Teacher And The Team
by Roger Grey
(MLP-202)


Introduction 

Through the generations writers of novels have employed the technique of 
using a microcosmic society to symbolize the society at large. It is to the 
credit of the medium of fiction that concisely and within a limited and 
bounded set, be it Camus' Oran or Solshenizyn's Siberian prison camp, a 
skilled author can create a reflection of a whole time, an entire nation or 
the world itself-a reflection that oft-times is clearer than the original 
itself. Roger Grey's brilliant new novel Teacher and the Team employs a 
small northern California community as the setting for this shocking expose 
of avarice and immorality. Any adept reader will see in the turmoil that 
takes place in this small football-oriented town, a prototype of the turmoil 
that has beleaguered the country at large during the wake of a disastrous 
war and the grips of a previously unheard of inflationary recession. 

We would however caution readers not to look too far outside the book, too 
far beyond its characters and its setting, for greater symbolic meaning. The 
larger symbol is there, but we would hate for that to be allowed to obscure 
what must be one of the most moving stories of human conflict and emotions 
that has crossed our editorial desk in years. This saga of a young woman 
torn between lust and morality, trying to find her place as a liberated 
modern woman in a restricted and narrow stratum of society, stands on its 
own as a gripping minor masterpiece of suspense, heartbreak and finally, an 
ironic kind of redemption when the heroine finally comes to terms with 
herself. The greater politico-social allegory that can be read into it is a 
fringe benefit. 

Once again Mr. Roger Grey has taken a naturalistic setting and a group of 
real and unromanticized characters to weave a poignant commentary on 
modern-day American life. We, The Publishers, are certain that this 
hard-hitting novel will be welcomed by the mature adult reader as an 
instructive and entertaining addition to his library of contemporary mores. 


CHAPTER ONE 

They had eaten in an Italian restaurant in North Beach, then bar-hopped 
along Broadway until well past midnight. But behind all their apparent 
carefree gaiety was a tempering gloomy resignation, and the sexual tension 
hovered always in the air between them. And though they had agreed 
beforehand that that night would not be spent lamenting or arguing about 
tomorrow, Barbara Halperin sensed what her fianc' had on his mind when he 
suddenly steered her into the dark quiet little bar at the foot of Grant 
Avenue around the corner from the Broadway and Columbus taxi rack. 

"Now we're gonna have one last one. For the road," Greg Benson said with a 
hint of sarcasm or bitterness as he felt the supple blonde's slight 
reluctance to go through the door. "And yes, we are going to talk about 
what's been on both our minds all evening. So don't argue with me." 

Barbara sighed and shrugged her shoulders, offering no resistance as Greg 
guided her to the rear booth of the almost deserted lounge. He left her 
sitting there and went up to the bar to order a pair of gin and tonics, then 
returned with the drinks and slid into the booth beside her. 

"Here, drink up," he said, pushing one of the glasses into her hand. 

Fully aware that she'd already imbibed a dangerous amount of alcohol, 
Barbara nonetheless obediently drank, the effect hitting her almost 
immediately to cause a further lightening of her head. In spite of the dread 
of the debate she knew was about to come she was acutely aware of the 
masculine presence of the man she loved sitting beside her, and she realized 
that her present hyped emotional state had combined with the alcohol to make 
her even more vulnerable to the purely physical need that had been stirring 
all evening long through her virginal young body. 

"All right," Greg said after they each had a stiff shot of gin. "For the 
last time forget this foolishness; marry me now, come with me overseas. I 
can even put off leaving for a week if you want to make it the big church 
wedding like we always planned." 

"Greg 

"Shhhhhhh.w He covered her lips with his hand to stifle her protest and 
doggedly continued: "Now you can't make that much money teaching school and 
with the money I'll be making over there we'll never need it anyway. And 
where I'm going I am going to need a wife, I mean you." 

The sensuous blonde gritted her teeth slightly in exasperation, not sure how 
to respond. Of course they'd been over all this before and always reached 
the same impasse. Perhaps, she thought now with the alcohol weakening her 
resolve, Greg was even right. He was certainly right about the money. With 
the cost of living what it was today her salary as a high school teacher in 
Northern California would leave her very little extra after she supported 
herself, and as a petroleum engineer for an American oil company in the 
Persian Gulf Greg would be, monthly, putting a small fortune into the ' 
bank. During his service in Abu Dabhi literally all of his living expenses 
would be taken care of by the company from the subsistence allowance he 
received in addition to his salary, and Barbara knew that if she accompanied 
him, as his wife, those allowances would almost double. 

"I mean, what's all this idealism anyway?" Greg prodded, looking almost 
angrily into her soft blue eyes. 

"It's not idealism," Barbara said with another sigh. "Maybe its selfishness. 
I studied to become a teacher. I at least want to try out what I learned. 
I'm not ready yet to become a housewife, a dependent, in a foreign colony of 
American dependents. I'm just not ready and you've got to understand it." 

"Oh hell, all right. I guess I do understand it," Greg conceded. "Score up 
another one for Women's Lib." He paused, lifted his glass and drained it. As 
his arm moved up around her neck and his hand lay softly down over her 
shoulder to the smooth bare skin of her generous upper breasts exposed by 
the low-cut cocktail gown she wore, the look on his face suddenly changed to 
the most intense and commanding stare Barbara thought she had ever seen. 
There was something almost hypnotic about the way he fixed her with his 
steel gray eyes, and though his hand felt light on her shoulder and upper 
breasts there was a strength and a firmness in the way that he held her that 
reminded her hers was definitely the weaker sex no matter what anyone might 
say about Women's Liberation. "All right," he repeated, still staring 
intently into her eyes. "I'll catch my plane for Beirut tomorrow. You catch 
your bus for Eureka next week. Tonight you're going home with me. 

Before she had time to protest he kissed her, his lips covering hungrily and 
hard over hers, his tongue snaking forcefully into her mouth as his hand 
pressed down against the voluptuously pliant swell of one of her 
half-protected breasts. Little ripples of unwanted delight tingled through 
Barbara's urgently swelling nipple as Greg cupped his hand more firmly over 
her breast, the friction of the material of her flimsy brassiere on her 
sensitive little bud causing it to perk suddenly to full rigidity within the 
constricting cup. He reached around her back with his other hand, turning 
her to face him in the booth and pulling her body tightly against his own. 

Then as suddenly as he'd begun the kiss he broke it off, drawing back to 
stare almost fiercely into her flushed and lovely face. 

"Finish your drink. Let's go." 

"But.. . , " Barbara began weakly, almost overpowered by the determination 
she perceived in his voice and in the way he was looking at her. 

"Finish it." 

Greg lifted his own drink and downed the rest of it in several rapid gulps 
and after a second or two Barbara followed suit. Then they were up and 
moving toward the door, Greg striding swiftly before her, Barbara 
half-following, half-being pulled along behind by the vise-like grip with 
which he held her slender wrist. 

A taxi was just pulling to the curb as they reached the corner of Broadway 
and Columbus and, still dragging the speechless blonde behind him, Greg 
barged directly in front of an elderly tourist couple to open the rear door 
and virtually shove her into the back seat. Ignoring the shouts of protest 
from the tourists, he climbed in behind her and gave the driver the address 
of his Telegraph Hill apartment. Only when the light changed and the taxi 
pulled away did he consent to release Barbara's wrist. 

The virginal young blonde's alcohol-muddled brain was a labyrinth of 
conflicting images and she didn't even know how to react to her fianc''s 
sudden brash seizure of the initiative. His tactics had changed so rapidly 
she still hadn't had time to adjust her own defense, yet something in his 
uncharacteristic aggression was stirring in her own body a longing and 
hunger that made it all the more difficult for her to cope with the brazen 
attack. 

"Greg," Barbara managed, at last having found her voice. "You've got.. . 
you've got a long flight ahead of you tomorrow and if you don't get some 
sleep you'll be in terrible shape tomorrow night when you land in Lebanon." 

"I get to Lebanon day after tomorrow morning," retorted Greg. "And I'm going 
to be screwed up for three days no matter what I do. Haven't you ever heard 
of jet-lag?" 

"And . . . and it's just going to be a long night of insomnia and 
frustration if we try to sleep together," Barbara continued uncertainly. 
"You remember what it was like the last time we tried . . . the last time we 
tried that.. . . " 

The slender blonde's voice almost faltered as she saw the look with which 
Greg reacted to that piece of pragmatism. Then a little gasp rose in her 
throat as his next remark made it clear to her and the taxi-driver as well 
what he really had in mind: 

"Honey, I'm not talking about another night of frustration. You're going 
home with me now and you're going to bed with me to relieve the frustration 
we've both been needlessly subjecting ourselves to all this time." 

Oh my God, she thought. He was really serious. And in her present emotional 
state of mind she even saw a logic in what he was proposing. She had long 
been convinced, on an intellectual level, that her vow to remain a virgin 
until marriage was outdated and even impractical. Greg was the man she was 
going to marry. Her having guarded her chastity through five-and-a-half 
years of college went against the present socially acceptable standard of 
behavior and even made her somewhat of a freak among her more liberated 
female contemporaries, this granting the fact that having finished high 
school at sixteen and completed her masters' studies by the time she was 
twenty-one made her younger than most of the graduate students at S. F. 
State with whom she'd associated. But she'd made a vow when she first left 
home for college and watched a series of roommates go through a series of 
usually disastrous and un-fulfilling deflorations. Always stubborn, she had 
stuck to her vow even after she'd fallen in love with Greg. Somehow she'd 
even led him to agree, in principle, to see things her way. 

"I know what you're thinking," Greg said, still staring deeply into 
Barbara's troubled eyes. "And I want you to forget it." 

"I can't forget it," the blonde whimpered. "Even if maybe I do want to, I 
can't." 

"Yes you can," he insisted, his hand moving around her shoulder and again 
dropping down to cup over the sensitive half-revealed swell of her breast. 
"You're going to sleep with me tonight and we're going to make love just 
this once before I go." 

"Greg!" Barbara gasped, noting the way the taxi driver was regarding her in 
the rear-view mirror. "He can hear us," she added in a whisper. 

"Then don't argue and we won't have to talk," Greg answered, again covering 
her lips with his mouth and thrusting his hands over her breasts in an 
almost brutal and lustful kiss. 

But now in spite of all her embarrassment and indecision Barbara found 
herself melting almost willingly into her lover's arms, her body squirming 
warmly against his until she could feel the tell-tale bulging erection that 
tented up his trousers pressing firm against her belly to only further 
impress upon her confused consciousness the seriousness of his obscene 
demand. 

Then almost before she knew it the taxi had pulled to a halt outside Greg's 
apartment building. He paid the driver and they were out of the cab, 
entering the building, riding the elevator up. Greg opened the door and she 
walked, almost trance-like, before him into the cozy den. Without hesitation 
he guided her to the bedroom door, then pushed it open, pausing just 
outside, and turned her forcibly to face him. 

"Now. Go in and undress and get into bed. I'll be there in five minutes." 

Looking into his eyes, Barbara knew he wasn't kidding. It was all happening 
too fast for her. He was ordering her around like she was some kind of harem 
girl and he wasn't even giving her the option of saying no. But in spite of 
the little surges of yearning coursing through her breasts and down between 
her thighs she still felt compelled to resist. She couldn't give in just 
like this, after all the frustration she'd put herself and Greg through 
during a year of increasingly heavy petting since they'd first started going 
out together. 

"Greg," she began after a pause, her voice quivering with her own building 
lust. "We can't. Not like this. We just can't." 

Greg's voice was remarkably calm and self-assured as he answered steadily, 
"We can and we're going to. I'm not going off to the Persian Gulf and leave 
you here saving it for me for a whole year. Because if I do leave you . . . 
like this . . . I won't trust it being here when I get back." 

"Greg!" 

"Now go on in and get undressed." 

"But . . . we've already waited all this time." 

"I know we've waited all this time. And Barbara, that waiting was just sheer 
fucking nonsense. We're not waiting any longer." 

Almost mortified by the vulgar language he'd used right in front of her, 
Barbara didn't resist as he pushed her backward through the door. But in 
spite of her shock the coarse image the word prompted to dart through her 
mind only increased her weirdly building excitement, and she was completely 
at a loss for what to say or do as Greg suddenly turned and walked away. 

Her heart beating rapidly, Barbara waited just inside the door and watched 
Greg cross to the liquor cabinet and pour himself a drink. She waited for 
him to turn and look at her again but he merely stood with his back to her, 
drinking in silence. 

At last she retreated into the room and flicked on the nightstand lamp, then 
stood staring silently at herself in the mirror, still not certain what to 
do. But one thing she did know: Greg was dead serious in his plan to seduce 
and deflower her tonight. He was so bent on accomplishing his purpose that 
she didn't dare imagine what he would do if she tried to say no. And she 
knew that deep down inside she couldn't blame him for the way he felt. He 
was perfectly right, this day and age, in demanding that she submit to him 
before they embarked on this long year of separation. 

But it was still almost without conscious thought that the sensuous young 
blonde reached up and undid the zipper down the back of her low-cut cocktail 
dress, the upper half of the sexy garment falling away suddenly to 
completely reveal the lush upstanding swells of her breasts. She gave a 
little wriggle of her hips as she shed the dress down off the flare of her 
buttocks and her long slender thighs. Then it dropped to the floor at her 
ankles, leaving her naked except for her brassiere and her flimsily clinging 
little bikini panties. 

Her breath coming in low strained gasps, Barbara gazed through narrowed eyes 
at the reflection of her sensuously exposed body in the three-quarter length 
dresser mirror. Her supple frame bore not an inch of superfluous flesh. Her 
skin was creamy smooth, golden-bronze tanned except for the thin 
bikini-bottom outline of white and the fainter lightening across the 
rose-tipped swells of her high, tautly upstanding breasts standing out proud 
and firm beneath her gently sloping shoulders as she reached back and 
unsnapped her brassiere, releasing her full breasts. Her legs were long and 
shapely, her thighs tapered, her waist narrow and her buttocks tightly 
rounded and firm. The soft light-brown triangle of pubic hair nestled down 
several inches below the neat little hole of her navel was sparse and silken 
as down. 

Her eyes fixed on her forbidden little vee of hair, as she slowly rolled her 
bikini panties down off her hips, and she felt more acutely aware of her 
inviting sexuality than she had been in years. Perhaps it was immodest for 
her to think it but she sensed that she had a body that was made for making 
love. And now she was so excited she could hardly stand it, though she still 
hadn't consciously come to terms with the final drastic decision she knew in 
the back of her mind was going to be forced on her very soon. She still 
hadn't admitted to herself that she was going to let Greg actually take her 
carefully guarded virginity. She had merely obeyed his command that she come 
into his bedroom and strip naked and wait for him. That still didn't mean 
she was really going to let him do it. After all, he had seen and touched 
and held her nearly naked body before, though even now the very thought of 
submitting to that exquisite and salacious teasing kind of fore-play caused 
her skin to prickle with puritanical indignation. 

Then Barbara was startled from her reverie by a sudden loud heaving of 
breath and she looked up wide-eyed to see Greg standing in the door, staring 
open mouthed at her naked and golden body. 

"God, honey," he said in a voice slightly slurred by alcohol. "You are so 
beautiful, I could . . . " 

He didn't finish the sentence but as she stood feeling completely vulnerable 
and exposed before his leering stare Barbara's passionand alcohol-altered 
mind raced through a shocking montage of lurid images of the things he might 
have said he could do to her. My God, never had he looked at her like this 
before, not even the other time she had consented to strip nearly naked and 
sleep with him in his bed. His expression reflected a sheer animal lust, and 
she felt a flutter of fear and excitement race through her belly as she 
realized that, with the amount he'd had to drink, he probably wouldn't give 
in to her wishes even if she tried to absolutely refuse the demand he'd made 
for her to offer up her virginal body to him tonight. 

Barbara could only stare in mingled apprehension and fright as Greg stalked 
toward her, and before she could bring herself to move he was on her, 
gathering her strongly into his arms and pulling her vulnerable nakedness 
hungrily to his chest. He kissed her with brutal animal fury, breathing 
gustily into her open mouth, his hands crushing over the sensitively exposed 
skin of her back as he held her limp and helpless in his powerful grasp. 

There was a hollowness in the pit of Barbara's stomach and she didn't find 
the strength to resist even as she felt herself being forced backward toward 
the bed. She felt so warm and safe in his arms, her breasts such a perfect 
fit against his muscular chest, her thighs so soft against his. Even her 
stomach seemed contoured to the hard-throbbing bulge looming up in his 
trousers to prod threateningly against the mound of her cunt. It was if her 
body were somehow one with his, and she yielded without struggle as he 
pushed her down into a prone position on her back on the top of the bed. 
Then her eyes widened slightly as he got to his own feet and, his eyes never 
leaving her open spread-eagled nakedness, kicked off his shoes and began 
hurriedly tearing at his trousers and shirt. 

Barbara lay mesmerized in a dreamy paralytic lassitude as her determined 
fianc' stripped off his clothes. Her eyes roved with unwilling hunger over 
his broad square shoulders and rippling pectorals, her gaze descending 
compulsively lower as he undid his belt and unzipped his trousers. Then a 
spontaneous little gasp rose in her throat as in one swift motion he jerked 
his trousers and jockey shorts down off his hips and suddenly the fully 
erected shaft of his cock burst freely into view, pulsing as though with a 
feverish excitement of its own, the shaft, a hardened blood-pumped muscle, 
the head, a menacingly swollen purple. 

She had seen it before, and once when they were playing around she'd even 
consented to use her hand to relieve his building lust. But she had never 
seen it looking like this. My God, it appeared big and hard as a horse's 
penis and Barbara shuddered at the very thought of even trying to take that 
enormous rod of flesh up into the tight sensitive virginal opening between 
her own legs. Then somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that the 
only reason Greg's cock must look so much bigger and so much more menacing 
than it ever had before was the fact that she actually was thinking about 
letting him use it to penetrate her virgin pussy, and with that realization 
came the final shattering awareness of the dangerous state to which her 
situation had deteriorated. 

But before she could move, her lover and fianc' was on top of her, now naked 
also, his hands exploring hungrily over her helplessly exposed body, mauling 
and bruising her breasts as though he wanted to punish them for their 
loveliness, his strong body pressing down heavily on hers to pin her 
abjectly beneath him. 

"No Greg," Barbara whimpered, her sudden fear giving her the will to resist 
where moral considerations had already almost failed. 

But it was as though she had not even spoken and he went on mauling her like 
a sex-starved animal, his lips sucking hungrily at the desire swollen buds 
of her breasts, his hands clawing at her tingling goose-bumped flesh, raking 
down over her ribs and the smoothness of her belly, down, down between her 
thighs into her soft thin curls of cunt-hair until suddenly she went stiff 
from the sheer raw sensation as his fingers trailed along the already lewdly 
moistened slit of her cunt, starting to part and spread her hair-lined lips. 

"Oh God," Barbara groaned from the illicit electric stirrings of excitement 
the lewd titillation sent surging through the nakedness of her open loins. 
In a half-hearted attempt at self-defense she tried to wriggle from beneath 
him and, sensing her continued reluctance, Greg only dropped his body even 
more heavily down upon her. At the same time he used his knees to pry her 
thighs wider apart and as he dropped between them she suddenly felt the 
surging hardness of the throbbing shaft of his penis prodding threateningly 
right up between her legs. 

The pinioned blonde's whole nakedly writhing body jerked in a sudden fearful 
spasm and a low moan spewed from her lips as she ground her buttocks down 
into the bed in an effort to escape the imminent rape of her secret 
genitals. She flailed her head from side to side, her eyes wide with terror 
as Greg levered further up on her body, at the same time working his 
outstretched middle finger even deeper up into the delicately moist folds of 
her little pussy entrance. 

"No, please no. You can't do it to me. Not like this. You can't rape me 
Greg! This is me, remember? Barbara!" 

Then for the briefest instant the aroused and frightened blonde experienced 
a mingling of relief and simultaneous bitter disappointment as the pressure 
against her skewered genitals suddenly ceased, as Greg raised his head up 
from between her naked breasts and lifted himself slightly to take some of 
the weight off her pinioned flesh. But she realized that her curious 
disappointment at the prospect of escape must have shown in her face, for 
suddenly Greg grinned almost cruelly, dropping his body down again on hers 
and lunging forward to prod his turgid penis even farther up between her 
thighs, an almost vicious smile twisting his lips as he spoke: 

"It's not really rape, is it baby? When you're my fianc' and you came with 
me here of your own free will and stripped yourself naked in my bedroom. And 
don't worry, I hadn't forgotten who you were. I know it's you, and that's 
why I'm going to do it." 

Then again he dropped his face to her naked breasts, cupping one of them in 
his hand to guide her tinglingly erected nipple between his eagerly sucking 
lips, biting down on it so hard she cried out in a startled little gasp. 

"Oh please," Barbara whimpered, still feeling a compulsion to fight back 
though she knew she'd already given away the fact that she wanted him to 
continue every bit as much as he did. Her whole body was crying out with 
inflamed and surging need and even in her half-conscious delirium she knew 
that she wanted Greg to continue in spite of all her protest, wanted him to 
force her so that finally it would be done and over with and afterwards, if 
she survived the unnatural and seemingly impossible penetration that was to 
come, she could perhaps somehow console herself with the rationalization 
that her breaking of her vow to herself had been his fault rather than hers. 

Then her eyes closed as he fixed his lips over her other tingling little 
nipple to begin a now gentle sucking pressure. At the same moment his hand 
slipped from her cunt, coursing up over the throbbing bud of her clitoris, 
and a moment later he slipped downward, sliding down the length of her still 
forcibly parted thighs, his tongue dipping teasingly into her sensitive 
little navel before leaving that little aperture to trail suddenly lower. 

Now once more Barbara's eyes opened wide with shock and moral indignation as 
she realized what Greg intended to do. This was much more than she was 
prepared to be forced to submit to but her surprise and her paralyzing lust 
left her incapable of moving to put up a defense as Greg's head disappeared 
suddenly right down between her thighs. 

"Nooooooh," the lust-incited blonde virgin wailed in unconvincing protest as 
Greg's thumbs pressed outward against the softly hair-lined lips of her cunt 
and she felt the cool air wash teasingly up into her chaste, desire-burning 
orifice. Then a low gasp escaped from deep in her chest as his breath danced 
through the sensitive golden curls of hair and the tip of his tongue flicked 
into sudden exquisite contact with the hard-pulsing bud of her clitoris. 
Then, spreading her moistened pussy even wider open to his leering gaze, he 
flicked his tongue lizard-like straight up into her moist opening, burrowing 
it like a snake right up into her dilated vaginal passage. 

"Oooooooh Jesus," the spread-eagled young woman wailed in response to the 
sudden wet contact. She'd never felt anything like this in her life and she 
thought she would die from the sheer maddening sensation as his tongue 
burrowed deeper up into the inner warm furrow of her loins. Then, unable to 
contain herself, she reached down, running her fingers into his curly dark 
hair to pull his face even tighter to her loins as she lunged her buttocks 
up from the bed in a sudden humping motion. Her mind almost blanked out as 
his lewd oral stimulation continued, and then a moan of disappointment rose 
to her lips as suddenly it ended and Greg was again sliding upward over her 
body. 

Barbara's aroused cunt was left tingling with the fire of unsatiated lust 
and now she made not the slightest move to resist as Greg seized the heated 
hardness of his cock, guiding it up between her thighs until suddenly his 
spongy cock-head pressed against the warm entrance to her now completely 
lubricated and readied vagina. At the same time he reached with both hands 
to seize her wrists, pinioning them tightly above her head to further arch 
and part her breasts. An instant later she heard him groan and with a sudden 
mighty lunge he rammed the bloated head of his cock right up into the 
elastically tight opening of her vagina. 

"Aaaaagggghhhhh!" Barbara cried out as though a spread-eagled prisoner at 
the beginning of a session of torture. The sudden sharp stabbing pain 
snapped her completely back to reality and she tossed and thrashed with all 
her strength as the searing penetration continued, his swollen cock-head 
ramming slowly deeper and deeper, pushing up into her cunt with a viciously 
penetrating fury, brutally forcing the soft walls of her vagina in pressured 
waves before it. There was no stopping him. Her hymen tore like tissue with 
a brilliance of fire-white pain, and she cringed beneath him as she felt her 
vagina completely filled, his hard-throbbing cock sunk up into her virginal 
depths to the hilt, enclosed in the warm moist sheath of her previously 
unviolated cunt like a fiery lance driven deep up into her entrails. 

"Oh God," the cringing blonde wailed in shame and agony, her whole body 
aflame from the brutal laceration. Yet she knew that at least the worst was 
over, and for a moment Greg lay completely still up in her, as if 
considering a reprieve. In spite of her bitterness at being so brutally 
taken she was still grateful for this little breadcrumb of mercy and she 
didn't resist as Greg again covered her mouth with his, snaking his tongue 
hungrily between her half-gritted teeth. Then she tensed as he flexed his 
penis to ram it even deeper up into her quivering loins, and a moment later 
he began to move. 

Mortified by her continued pain and fear, Barbara lay almost still, her body 
limp as Greg slowly drew his penis out of her wounded, blood-moistened cunt 
and then pistoned it slowly inward again. She felt completely lacerated and 
opened, injured beyond all repair, and she thought she would die if she ever 
had to submit to anything like this again. She could still feel the stabbing 
pain at his first brutal penetration, and for a moment that pain completely 
seized her mind. It was only minutes later, as Greg's humping movements 
increased and she found her own body slowly and sensuously undulating in 
response, that she realized the pain was not nearly as acute as before. It 
was there, yes, a lingering gnawing presence that could not be denied. But 
it was tempered by something else, the warmth of his body on hers, the 
caress of his hands on her breasts and tingling nipples, and most of all 
that slow ceaseless pumping back and forth in and out of her loins that was 
a raw, maddening stimulation that would not stop, and his pubic area kept 
rubbing against her throbbing little clitoral bud. 

"Oh!" Barbara gasped, hardly able to comprehend what was happening to her as 
she suddenly began to slither her cunt up and down on his still ruthlessly 
violating shaft of flesh embedded up between her thighs. My God, as much as 
it hurt it almost felt good and her body had been responding even if her 
mind was repelled. But most important of all was the fact that it was done. 
She was a virgin no longer, and it wasn't even her fault. She had been 
raped, but the rape had been committed by the man she loved, and with the 
increasingly exhilarating sensation his continued assault of her helpless 
little genitals inspired to surge over her goose bumped flesh, she could 
only vow that after this she would love him all the more. My God, why had 
they waited so long? This was wonderful! It was exquisite! It was like 
nothing she'd ever known, and with a sudden squeal of delight she suddenly 
thrust her face up from the bed, shoving her lips against Greg's, opening 
her mouth wide to suck his tongue deep down in her throat. 

"Oh yes," she moaned almost straight into his mouth. "Yes! I love it. Fuck 
me, Greg. Fuck me!" 

That was more than Greg could stand. It had been weeks since he'd been out 
with a woman other than Barbara and his own near-rape of her gorgeous body 
had pushed him to the brink of losing all control. Now her surrender after 
the way she had fought him and screamed and cried in protest gave him a 
sense of masculine triumph that was too much to contain. He had asserted 
himself and he had been victorious and even as he reveled in his conquest 
and began to pump and buck without further restraint, racking Barbara's now 
eagerly responding young body with a series of mad staccato lunges, his 
semen was almost boiling over in his balls. 

"Oh yes, fuck me, fuck me," Barbara chanted in wanton delirium as the 
rhythmic pounding of his hard cock-shaft over the little bud of her clitoris 
reached a frenzy. 

And Greg was fucking her, but it wouldn't go on for long. His sperm-swollen 
balls felt as if they were ballooning out of his scrotum and he let himself 
go completely as the surging liquid of his cum began its mad swift dance up 
the pistoning shaft of his cock. The lust-swollen head of his penis pulsed 
deep up inside Barbara's sex-ravished cunt as he rammed in to maximum depth, 
and his searing semen spurted forth like an erupting geyser from the slitted 
little glans at the tip. 

Greg continued to hammer up and down into Barbara's spasming, eagerly 
clutching pussy, racking her body with the fury of his successively violent 
lunges until he'd pumped every drop of his white hot cum up into her torn 
virginal cunt. She didn't even realize what was happening until moments it 
was over. Then, as she continued to grind back against his pubic mound, her 
cunt hungrily sucking and milking at the deflating shaft of his cock, he 
collapsed heavily, almost as though in sleep upon her. 

But the frustration she experienced was balanced somewhat by her physical 
relief at the realization that her ordeal was over, and as she sighed out 
deeply she wrapped her arms still lovingly about his back to hold him 
tightly to her, wondering if she should be glad or sorry about what he'd 
forced her to do. 

Greg lay still on her for a moment longer. Then he withdrew and rolled on 
his back. He turned to face her, kissed her, drew back to look, smiling, 
into her eyes. 

"See?" he said. "See why I wanted to do that? Now we will be together. 
Always. Now you have to go to the Gulf with me." 

Barbara hesitated but a moment, a fluttering of excitement coursing anew 
through her breasts as she considered that alternative under the light of 
this new development in their relationship. But it took her only that moment 
to make her decision, and when she spoke it was with a conviction that came 
from the heart. 

"No Greg. I'm not going to follow you to the Persian Gulf just because you 
made love to me, even if we should have done it long ago. I'm still going to 
do what I set out to do. I'm going to make a life for myself, for this one 
year at least." 

Greg sat up abruptly in bed, staring down wide-eyed at the lushly naked body 
he'd just so ruthlessly violated. "But how.. . after that . . . how can you 
let me go away alone? I mean, the way you've always felt.. . your . . . your 
vow?" 

"I don't know," she answered honestly, a lump welling in her throat as she 
got the first inkling of something she still wouldn't have dared to 
verbalize in her mind. "But I do know that you brought me up here with the 
idea of seducing me or raping me or maybe a little of both so that I would 
feel obliged to forget my own career and go away with you. And I'm not going 
to do it. I'm not going to abandon everything I've studied for just because 
you've.. . because you've fucked me.. . . And that's that." 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Avenue of the Giants is a long stretch of the San Francisco-Eureka Freeway, 
beginning several hours driving time north of the Bay City, on which the 
redwood trees visible from the road have never been timbered. Thousands of 
years old and hundreds of feet high, they appear an endless dense forest of 
giant wooden towers that, in their enormity and their abundance, defy the 
imagination of modern man. The trunks of the older trees have a diameter at 
the base of some twenty or thirty feet; the highway running through them is 
like a dark, shaded and endless-seeming tunnel. 

Though she'd lived most of her life in the San Francisco area Barbara had 
never taken this drive north before and she was enthralled as she peered out 
the window of the speeding Greyhound. She felt as if she had entered a magic 
forest and the sheer beauty of the giant phalli of the trees made her feel a 
small and insignificant creature in the universe. But still, she thought, 
the most astonishing thing about this beautiful and unique little piece of 
land could only be appreciated if one were aware of the fact that it was a 
freak of nature that had occurred. This was Northern California in its 
natural state, one of the few places that still remained untouched, 
unravished, by man. 

But in all her exhilaration her joy at the experience of visiting this 
little stronghold of nature was tempered by the memory and the lingering 
guilt that had obsessed both her waking hours and dreams during the week 
that had elapsed since Greg had left for the Middle East. 

That night lying in his arms she'd slept hardly a wink. After her assertion 
that she was not going to leave with him he had become violently angry. They 
had argued, at last made-up. Greg had slept fitfully for a while, snoring 
loudly, while Barbara lay awake staring up wide-eyed into the dark. It was 
only after her stubborn insistence that she was not going to change her mind 
that Greg had finally staggered, enraged, onto his plane and gone. Standing 
in the airport lounge with tears streaming down her face, Barbara had faced 
the fact she'd only sensed, unverbalized, the night before: She and Greg 
would never be married. And in her remorseful self-flagellating state it 
seemed to her that was a most poetic bit of justice. She had broken her vow 
and given her body to the man she loved; in doing so, she had lost him. 

Since that bitter morning her mood had hardly improved, though oddly it was 
not her feeling that, though their engagement still hadn't officially been 
terminated, she had relinquished her dream of someday being Greg's wife that 
bothered her most. It was something else, something she still couldn't quite 
pin down. Of course she was guilty and angry with herself for having given 
in to temptation, and yet she couldn't deny the exquisite little thrills 
that coursed through her loins and breasts every time she thought of that 
wonderful/terrible sensation she had derived from her cruel rape by her 
fianc'. 

Every time she thought of it she experienced a certain carnal excitement 
that now filled her with shame; it was a strange blend of revulsion and 
desire. And, she supposed now with reflection, what really troubled her was 
the future. In spite of all her remorse, she knew that her appetite had only 
been whetted. What she still didn't know was how she could live with the 
memory of what she had experienced without the promise she would soon 
experience it again. 

But in spite of the troubles that had occupied her the last week Barbara had 
at least managed to function and she had the feeling now that, even if she 
did not know what the future held, it had at least begun. She was moving 
into the next phase of her life and this troubling week had been a time of 
limbo between the new phase and the phase that had just passed away. She 
felt in a sense that she was starting over, alone. Within another few hours 
she would be arriving in Hatfieldville, the small farming and logging town 
where she would take her first English teaching post. She would be meeting 
with her superior, Superintendent Johnson; she would move into the small 
duplex apartment she'd rented by phone, sight-unseen; and tomorrow she would 
teach her first classes of English Grammar and American Literature. 

Barbara spent the last two hours of the trip trying to concentrate on 
pragmatic matters that would keep her mind off her guilt and her lingering 
excitement over the salacious act of sexual intercourse she had performed 
the night before Greg left. For a few minutes she even dozed off to sleep, 
and though it was but the briefest nap, it did wonders toward refreshing 
her. By the time the Greyhound pulled up before the curio shop that served 
as the Hatfieldville bus station, her mood had become almost optimistic. 

Clad in a modest white lace blouse and navy blue skirt that served to accent 
the classic beauty of her face rather than the mischievous sexuality of her 
supple young body, Barbara descended into the warm afternoon sunlight and 
moved around to the side of the bus where the driver unloaded her two heavy 
bags. He was kind enough to carry the largest of them into the shop for her, 
where she explained to an elderly woman behind the cash desk that she had 
rented the duplex apartment that belonged to a Mr. Gladstone. 

"You're the new English teacher then," the woman asked, looking Barbara over 
curiously. 

"That's right," the beautiful young blonde said with a smile. 

She was given directions to the Gladstone residence. Then the gray-headed 
woman hesitated, turned toward the back of the store and called: "Hey Sonny, 
come up here for a minute, would you." 

From behind a display of redwood curios a cute blond-headed teenager 
appeared. He looked at first annoyed, then on seeing Barbara he stopped dead 
in his tracks, gaping at he with open-mouthed surprise, his eyes descending 
slowly down the length of her modestly clad body. Feeling half-embarrassed, 
half-pleased, Barbara allowed herself to be subjected to the young boy's 
eager scrutiny. Then he was startled from astonishment to red-faced 
embarrassment by the shop owner's sharp exclamation: 

"Sonny! Don't stare at the lady like that. This is the new English teacher, 
Miss . . . ? " 

"Halperin. Barbara Halperin." 

"Miss Halperin. You take her biggest bag there and walk her over to Ernest's 
place." 

"Yes Ma'am," the youngster nodded. He swallowed, cast another quick furtive 
glance at Barbara, and came forward and took the larger of her two 
suitcases. 

Barbara picked up the other and followed him out the door to the street, 
where the Greyhound was just pulling away. There she paused, gazing around 
for her first real look at the town. She'd noted on the sign at the city 
limits that the population, as of the last census, was something just over 
seven thousand. She doubted from the looks of the place that it had grown 
much since then. There were several blocks of small businesses, grocery 
stores, real estate and insurance offices, a pharmacy, a number of bars; 
beyond that in either direction there were a few more blocks of residential 
area, plus a couple of service stations. It was not, she had to admit, an 
especially inspiring place to think of living for the next nine months, but 
then she hadn't come here looking for inspiration. She'd come here to work, 
to teach, and at least there was the consolation of the fresh clean air, the 
sunshine, and the redwoods spread over the low hills that surrounded the 
community in almost every direction. 

Barbara sighed and again lifted her bag, which she'd set down momentarily. 
Out of the corner of her eye she noted that the teenager, Sonny as the woman 
in the shop had called him, was staring at her again. But when she turned 
toward him he again looked embarrassedly away. They walked silently to the 
corner, then turned at the first side street down to the left. Barbara was 
acutely aware of the curious interest in her body the boy had displayed, and 
she realized for the first time that might be a problem she would encounter 
in dealing with her male students that she hadn't even anticipated. She 
could admit without being immodest that she was probably younger and more 
attractive than the run of the mill high school teacher, and she would be 
teaching kids just at the age where they were beginning to be curious about 
sex. It was strange, Barbara thought to herself. A week and a half ago this 
consideration would have completely eluded her. 

"I guess you'll probably be in some of my classes won't you . . . Sonny?" 
Barbara asked to break the silence. 

"I think so. I'm a sophomore." 

"Then I'll have you in grammar and composition." 

"Yeah, right." 

They walked a block and a half farther in silence. Up ahead Barbara noted a 
one-story duplex, plain, white-painted, but not unpleasant looking, that she 
presumed would be the place she had rented. Then, again becoming aware out 
of the corner of her eye that Sonny was literally gawking at her, she turned 
suddenly toward him with a reserved and courageous smile, and as he again 
blushed she asked softly: 

"What's the matter, Sonny?" 

"I dunno," the kid muttered, casting his gaze toward the ground. 

"You don't have to be so nervous, I'm not going to bite you." 

"That wasn't what I was worried about." 

"Then what were you worried about?" 

"I wasn't worried, I was just thinking." He paused, then continued: "I was 
just thinking about Miss Priddy, the English teacher last year." 

"And what about her?" Barbara coaxed. "She wasn't nearly as good looking as 
you are." 

"Oh Sonny, I certainly wouldn't know about that." 

"I was just thinking what it would have been like if it had been you . . . 
who.. . . " 

"Who what?" 

"Who did all that." 

"All what?" Barbara asked. 

"See, Miss Priddy got herself run out of town. She . . . almost the whole 
football team . . . uh.. . . " 

Barbara stopped, turning to stare with genuine concern and curiosity down at 
the cute youngster. But his voice had trailed off and he was staring 
intently up the street. Turning to follow his gaze the young blonde saw a 
blue, customized pick-up truck barreling full-speed toward them. As it drew 
closer she distinguished the four boys loaded into the cab. She started at 
the sudden loud blaring of the horn, and as the vehicle thundered by her 
ears picked up only vague sketches of a couple of obscene remarks that were 
shouted at them through the window. Then the driver hit the brakes, the 
vehicle skidded to a halt some paces back up the street. He put it into 
reverse and, tires squealing, backed up to where they were. Her face flushed 
with anger and embarrassment, Barbara faced the eager, leering gazes of the 
four boys who stared out of the cab. 

"Hey Sonny," the driver, a curly headed teenager who looked older, or at 
least more mature than her young companion, called through the window. 
"Who's that hot lookin' little piece you got there?" 

"I bet that's the new teacher who's gonna be living in old Gladstone's 
duplex," another boy put forth. 

"An' I bet she can teach us some things we couldda never learned from Miss 
Priddy," a third youngster added. 

"What's the matter, Sonny?" the driver asked. "Forget how to talk?" 

Barbara realized Sonny was gazing desperately at her for some sign as to how 
to react. "Say nothing to them," she whispered through gritted teeth, 
lifting her suitcase, which she'd again set down, and continuing swiftly 
down the sidewalk. "That must be Mr. Gladstone's duplex there?" she added 
stiffly as Sonny came back abreast of her. Then she sighed and again put the 
suitcase down as she heard the pick-up pull away, the echo of several final 
obscene catcalls almost lost in the roar of the engine. "Now who was that?" 

"The Four Horsemen," Sonny said bitterly. 

"The Four Horsemen?" The words beat like drums in her mind. Death. Incest. 
Pestilence. Famine. But that wasn't right. Where on earth did she get 
incest? And what was he talking about. "Of the Apocalypse?" 

"No. Notre Dame. Those were the first Four Horsemen. And these guys are the 
backfield here at Hatfieldville High. But that's what they call them in the 
papers. 

They're unstoppable---If you don't play football here in Hatfieldville," 
Sonny added after a brief hesitation, "then you're nobody." He paused again. 
"I'm just the assistant trainer. The guys are always giving me crap. Oh, 
sorry." 

Looking at the youngster, Barbara realized he was talking about something he 
felt very deeply, something which hurt him very deeply. And she felt the 
almost motherly compulsion to say something consoling. "But, the assistant 
trainer must be very important to a good football team. I mean, that's 
almost like the coach, isn't it." 

"The assistant trainer is only the water boy," Sonny said dryly, lifting the 
heavier suitcase and stalking away ahead of her just as a skinny old man in 
khakis and a straw hat emerged from the large old house next to the duplex. 

* * * 

By five-thirty that afternoon Barbara was unpacked and comfortably settled 
into her new place. Though by no means luxurious, the small four-room house 
was certainly adequate to her needs. Considering that the other half of the 
duplex was empty and considering that for the last six years of her life 
she'd lived constantly with girl roommates, she looked forward to enjoying a 
privacy and independence she'd never really known. Ernest Gladstone was a 
widower, a nice enough old country man who talked as though he might well 
have come from the mountains of Tennessee, and she was sure she would have 
nothing to worry about from him. The only thing that did worry her now was 
the incident with the boys in the pick-up truck which had triggered that 
almost surreal thought process in her mind in which some still unrecalled 
evil of man had become incest and in which Notre Dame (Our Lady if you 
translated it) had become the Apocalypse, or vice versa, depending on the 
view from which it was perceived. And of course she was curious and slightly 
ill at ease about Sonny's reference to her predecessor, Miss Priddy, and 
something that had happened with the football team that had gotten her run 
out of town. 

That little mystery she wanted to clear up right away, and after her 
unpacking was completed and she washed her face and brushed her long golden 
hair and made sure her blouse and skirt still looked tidy and not 
excessively wrinkled from her trip, she took only a few brief moments to 
lounge on the couch in her cozy little living room before going out. She 
found Mr. Gladstone sitting on his front porch smoking a pipe, told him she 
was quite happy with the place and asked him directions to the school, which 
he assured her was within easy walking distance. 

"In fact, 'bout any place you want to get to here 'n Hatfieldville, from 
wherever you happen to be when you start, 's gonna be easy walkin' distance 
for a healthy young gal like yourself." 

"And . . . do you suppose I'll be able to find Superintendent Johnson there 
this time of the afternoon." 

"Let's see.. . . " He pondered the question as though seeking a mathematical 
equation. "They finished football camp yesterday so today's just a short 
work-out with no pads. Shouldda finished up a few minutes ago. You'll catch 
Coach Johnson in the dressin' room, back door of the gymnasium. That's the 
big red-brick building behind the school." 

"Thank you very much," Barbara said as she started away, slightly troubled 
at the thought of having to seek out the Superintendent at the dressing room 
of the football team, which included those dreadful "four horsemen". Nor was 
she particularly encouraged to learn that the man who would be her superior 
for the next nine months was known here in town not as Superintendent 
Johnson but as Coach Johnson. It occurred to her that the football coach in 
a small school like this would probably be the man his team members were 
most likely to emulate, and if the superintendent of Hatfieldville High was 
the model for the kind of behavior she'd witnessed from several of his 
players earlier this afternoon, then the situation with which she found 
herself confronted was a sorry one indeed. 

Following the directions old Mr. Gladstone had given her Barbara crossed the 
main street, acutely conscious of the lecherous stares of a group of loggers 
standing outside the nearest bar, then took the opposite side street the 
four blocks to the two one-story sand-colored buildings joined by an arcade, 
which she recognized from her new landlord's description as the grade school 
and high school respectively. She passed through the arcade alongside a 
hidden structure, situated behind the arcade and between the two school 
buildings, which appeared to be an auditorium. Behind this she recognized 
the big red-brick gymnasium. The front door was indeed closed; she moved 
alongside it toward the back. She was halfway there when the boy she'd seen 
driving the pick-up before came around the corner, flanked by a tall 
athletic looking man with receding blond hair and broad muscled shoulders. 

"Hey Coach," the boy said, his eyes fixing on Barbara's slender body. 
"That's the new teach we saw with Sonny this afternoon." 

Wavering slightly under the tall man's interested scrutiny, Barbara waited 
where she was as he and the leering youngster walked toward her. Then the 
man turned and said something to the boy, who frowned, nodded, then turned 
and went back in the direction he had come. 

Barbara remained in her place as the man came toward her, alternately 
studying her face and her body and looking slightly as if he did not like, 
or did not approve, of what he saw. Or maybe, she tried to tell herself, 
that was just her own paranoia. And in any event, she wasn't going to let 
this overgrown college boy, which was exactly what the man looked like in 
spite of the fact that he was obviously in his forties, get the best of her 
right away. When he was upon her she smiled warmly and extended her hand: 

"I'm Barbara Halperin. I presume you must be Superintendent Johnson." 

"Call me Coach," the superintendent said, a faint smile now flickering on 
his lips. "I'm . . . uh . . . slightly surprised to . . . " 

"To what, Coach?" Barbara asked, her hand still resting in his. 

"I'll explain. Come on. We'll got to my office to talk." 

Coach Johnson's office, situated just inside the high school building, 
looked more like the trophy room of a sports club. There was a case full of 
bronze statuettes, footballs, both bronze and real, ribbons, plaques and 
medallions. The walls were lined with photographs of teenager's posing in 
uniform or actually playing. There were also several conference pennants and 
the picture was completed by a photograph of the coach himself, looking 
twenty years younger but hardly more fit then he looked today, in a college 
uniform she recognized as her own alma mater San Francisco State's. There 
was not, she noticed, a book to be seen in the place. 

"Well, Miss.. . Halperin. Would you have a seat," the coach asked, taking 
his own place behind his desk. 

Barbara sat down and carefully smoothed her skirt over her slender shapely 
thighs. "And what did you say you were surprised about?" she asked, fixing 
another fabricated smile on her face. 

The coach looked at her thoughtfully. "Frankly, you're a very good-looking 
young woman." Barbara maintained her smile, saying nothing. "Much better 
looking than I had expected. I suppose, from your record-high school 
graduation at sixteen, scholarship, B.A. in three and a half years and 
masters in another year and a half-I had surmised you would be somewhat of a 
female egghead." He chuckled. "I was thinking of someone pale and skinny 
with short hair and thick goggle-eye glasses. Instead.. . . " 

Barbara crossed her legs. "I'm sorry if I disappoint you Superintendent . . 
. Coach Johnson. But I can assure you that if I'm not quite as . . . 
studious looking as you had expected it will not interfere with my abilities 
to teach the subjects I've specialized in. At least, I trust not." 

"I'm sure you're very capable. It's not that. I just hope your . . . how 
should I say . . . sex appeal won't present a problem." 

"What kind of problem?" Barbara asked matter-of-factly, then when the coach 
didn't reply she immediately added: "Sonny . . . whatever his name is . . . 
made some reference to a Miss Priddy. Could that be what you were referring 
to." 

"Yes . . . uh . . . I'm afraid it is." 

"Perhaps you could fill me in." 

"Miss Priddy . . . or perhaps I should explain first: I believe the purpose 
of a high school education is to teach and to invest the young people who 
attend it with a certain moral fiber. As you may have noticed, or heard, 
Hatfieldville High places a particular emphasis on athletics, and-" 

"I have noticed," Barbara couldn't resist interrupting. "In fact, I almost 
have the feeling I'm in an athletic club instead of an institute of 
learning." 

"What do you mean by that?" the coach said with a scowl. 

"I meant nothing more than exactly what I said. It was simply an 
observation. But, about that former teacher, you were saying . . . ? " 

"Dorothy Priddy was not possessed of the moral standards to fit her for a 
teaching position here. To make a long story short, she seduced several of 
the male students, members of the football team in fact." 

"Your 'Four Horsemen'? " 

Coach Johnson scowled again. "She did it, the last time at least, the night 
before an important game. As a result of their exhaustion, the boys did not 
perform up to par and we almost lost that game because of her. Now perhaps 
you can see what I'm getting at?" 

"If you think I'm going to start seducing your football players for the 
purpose of ruining your team, or for any other purpose, then I can assure 
you, you are wrong. I came here to teach, not serve in a pep squad and 
certainly not to do anything like that and I resent the implication you . . 
. you . . . " 

"I meant to imply nothing like that. I meant only that boys will be boys. 
Because of the immorality of one of the women teachers to whom their 
education and training was entrusted, they have had an . . . experience that 
can only challenge them to try again if they think-and mark you I said 
think, even if they are entirely mistaken-that the opportunity is being 
presented to them. I simply wanted to warn you to be especially on your 
guard not to be anything that might give any of my boys the wrong idea. And 
keep in mind that you are a very much more inviting conquest than Dorothy 
was. There will be overtures, and I'm afraid that after everything that has 
happened that is only natural. 

"I might add, in summing up, that I do not mean to imply that our male 
students here are bad, I mean, hoodlums or anything. They are just good 
healthy boys. I want to see that they grow up to be good healthy men. That 
is why in addition to my duties as coach and superintendent here I also 
teach a Sunday School class at the local church, and I try to be a friend, 
to understand them and hold their confidence. If it weren't for that 
relationship I've established with boys like Bobby Lane, my quarterback, who 
you saw with me a few moments ago, Dorothy Priddy might still be on our 
faculty, corrupting our youth." 

"Then you are to be congratulated I'm sure," Barbara said with a hint of 
sarcasm in her voice. She thought briefly about referring to this 
afternoon's incident, then decided to let it drop. She would put the "Four 
Horsemen" in their place without the intervention of this pious old windbag. 

Shortly afterwards the interview was terminated. Barbara left the school 
with the most distinct impression that she and Coach Johnson were not going 
to get along. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

Barbara ate alone at the rear booth in one of the two cafes on Main Street, 
attracting a certain amount of conversation though she was not actually 
approached. She spent the evening watching television, the old 
black-and-white set having been included among the furnishings of her 
duplex. Tired from her trip, she turned it off at the end of the eleven 
o'clock news, then went into the bathroom and started the water running in 
the tub. 

After bending over to test it with her finger and adjust the faucets to the 
desired balance between hot and cold, she straightened up and started to 
unbutton her blouse down the front. 

The door was equipped with a full-length mirror and as she parted the lacy 
material off her brassiere-clad up-thrust breasts her eyes strayed to the 
reflection of her slender supple body. Still watching herself, she pushed 
the blouse off her shoulders to leave the upper half of her body completely 
exposed except for her tight white brassiere. She hung the blouse on the 
door knob, then loosened the snap at the zipper of her skirt and drew it 
slowly down, wriggling her hips in an unintentionally sexy gesture as she 
shed the garment down off her hips. Having removed her shoes while watching 
television, she now wore nothing but her brassiere and her flimsy bikini 
panties, and quickly she reached up behind her back to undo the 
brassiere-snap, shrugging her shoulders to let the flimsy garment fall from 
her arms and drop lightly to the floor. 

Barbara stared silently at the reflection of her sensuously revealed body, 
her eyes roving slowly over her slender teasingly exposed torso and her 
proudly up-standing breasts peaked by her wide-corona pink nipples that had 
already erected to tingling rigidity from their contact with the air. Then 
slowly her gaze descended lower, down over the smoothness of her belly and 
the dainty little aperture of her navel, down lower to her low hanging 
silken panties where she could just distinguish the soft sparse triangle of 
pubic hair nestled so invitingly between her slender thighs. Perhaps it was 
narcissistic, she thought, but she couldn't deny her sexuality. She looked 
like she was just made to be loved, to be ravished, to be fucked, and she 
couldn't help but wonder why Greg had waited so long to finally do what he 
should have done weeks before. He had raped her, or at least he'd forced her 
against her protest if not her total resistance, and in spite of all her 
moral indignation she had loved it like she'd never loved anything in her 
life. 

God, she thought, her mind blurring with the delicious memory of his hands 
on her naked flesh, his hard long prick tearing a burning hole of fire 
straight up through the tender little membrane of flesh that had guarded the 
exquisite inner secrets of her cunt. Now it seemed like nothing but a long 
lost dream, yet it was still more vivid in her memory than anything that had 
happened before or since. And here she was, alone in this little town 
devoted to the violent conflict of football, and he was so far away. 

After another moment of intense staring at her own naked, lovely golden 
flesh, Barbara turned away from the mirror. She glanced back at the tub and 
noted it was almost filled, then quickly pulled her panties down off the 
ripe half-moons of her buttocks, fully exposing the forbidden triangle of 
soft golden hair between her thighs. She stepped out of her panties, leaving 
the little garment where it lay, stepped into the tub and lowered her body 
slowly into the hot bath. The contrast of the temperature of the water and 
the air in the room caused her to suck in her breath in an audible gasp. Her 
golden tanned skin prickled with goose bumps and her nipples rose to even 
greater rigidity from the sharpness of the sensation. Then a low sigh rose 
in her throat as she became aware of the warm caress of the water on her 
pussy, and gradually she sank down to a reclining position in the bath, 
leaning her head against the back of the tub to stare thoughtfully up to the 
ceiling. 

For the first time since she'd arrived she seriously asked herself the 
question of how she was going to make a life for herself here in this little 
place. And the answer completely eluded her. Greg's cruel rape of her 
willing body almost seemed to have turned her into a new person. Though 
she'd tried to keep her mind off the memory, all through the evening it had 
been a lingering presence in her mind. She had to have a man, not just any 
man, but someone she was attracted to and cared for or loved. And here there 
was no one but those crude loggers who timbered the land, and that stupid 
hypocrite of a superintendent-football coach-Sunday school teacher, and 
Sonny, the cute little boy who was the only person she'd felt the slightest 
bit of rapport with, and those young toughs who were known as the Four 
Horsemen. God, thought Barbara, no wonder that other teacher got into 
trouble. 

Then her body suddenly stiffened at the implication of what had just 
occurred to her. It was really crazy for her to be thinking like that, but 
of course it had just been a passing fantasy. She wasn't the kind of person 
who could ever get involved in something like what Superintendent Johnson 
had described to her this afternoon. But if she wasn't that kind of person, 
what kind of person was she! Her appetite had been whetted. The sensuous 
woman who had lain dormant inside her for so long had come to life, and 
somehow now that almost alien-seeming creature would have to be coped with. 

"Oh hell," Barbara sighed uncharacteristically. It would all work out sooner 
or later, but she couldn't remember when she'd ever felt the way she did 
just now. The truth was that in spite of all her rightful indignation, she'd 
secretly been amused by the attention that had been given to her by the boys 
in the pick-up and by the way she kept catching Sonny looking at her when he 
was escorting her here from the curio shop. The whole day had been a kind of 
disappointing adventure, but for some reason her flesh and loins had been 
left prickling with a need that was stronger than anything she'd experienced 
since the night she'd finally given in to Greg. 

Barely aware of what she was doing, Barbara drew her hands slowly up the 
length of her nakedly submerged body, cupping them lightly over the firm 
young mounds of her breasts, squeezing their teasing pliancy and tickling 
over the already tightly erected nipples. Then she let one of her hands 
trail back down over her naked belly beneath the hot water. The contact of 
her hand on her tingling flesh was like an electric current of building 
desire. She stroked over the hole of her navel and then suddenly moved her 
hand straight down through the silken curls of the soft sparse hair of her 
cunt. 

The aroused young blonde drew in a low hissing of breath as her fingers 
ventured lower down between her slightly parted thighs, she played teasingly 
along one of the straining inner tendons before she suddenly made wantonly 
tantalizing contact with the lust-burning little lips of her cunt, the sheer 
raw sensation almost causing her to whimper aloud as the responsive surge of 
hunger went coursing out through her loins and breasts. Her whole naked body 
was crying out with untapped passion and without further hesitation she 
parted the blood-filled lips of her vagina, feeling the warmth of the bath 
water flowing straight up into the tight little orifice of her once-virginal 
cunt. 

Now Barbara was really drifting into a blurred dream-like state of 
excitement and a series of tantalizing images fluttered conflictingly 
through her mind. She was vaguely aware that tomorrow morning she would 
actually be starting her life as a schoolteacher, fulfilling the ambition 
that had driven her through five years of rigorous study at college. Yet the 
excitement she should have experienced at that gave way to something bizarre 
and even more stimulating. She thought: I will be standing as though on 
display for five hours a day five days a week in front of those boys, those 
same boys who were seduced and corrupted by the woman whose place I'll take. 
And they would be looking at her, wanting her, building up fantasies in 
their minds about having her supple young body; they would lust after her as 
she now knew men, oh so many men, had been lusting after her ever since 
she'd first begun the physical transformation from child to woman. And of 
course they could not have her, just as no man had ever had her except the 
one man who had been aggressive enough to take her by force. 

"Ooooooh," Barbara moaned in building delirium as her mind's eye was filled 
by a series of even more lurid images of the night Greg had so viciously 
ravished and thrilled her. She had not even had an orgasm and yet it seemed 
that the lack of fulfillment and satisfaction from that obscene episode left 
the memory of it even more vivid and compelling, and suddenly she extended 
the middle finger of her right hand and aimed it straight up between her 
thighs, stroking it right over the tingling lust-swollen bud of her clitoris 
to send a stream of maddening sensation coursing devastatingly over her 
naked, half-submerged flesh. 

Then she trailed her finger lower down between her thighs, pressing the 
length of it straight along the inflamed hair-lined lips of her vagina. She 
moved her other hand quickly down from her breasts, spreading the pliant 
folds of flesh before she began to work her extended finger up into the warm 
inner sheath, the lubricating liquids of her body flowing freely out to mix 
with the hot water still lapping up into her sensitive little orifice. 

The nakedly squirming young blonde grunted slightly from the sharp stab of 
sensation, then sighed as her finger slipped slowly deeper into her loins. 
Her tightly clinging opening parted, the walls of her pussy flowered out as 
though to suck the penetrating digit deeper inside. 

Fantastic sensations rippled through Barbara's whole passion-aroused body 
and her nerves were electrically charged, all her senses heightened from the 
desire surging illicitly through her flesh. She arched her ass-cheeks up 
from the bottom of the tub, a low whimper issuing from deep in her throat as 
she started to work her finger in and out of the quivering little opening of 
her cunt. Her teeth were gritted, her eyes tightly closed, her sultry face 
contorted with desire. She was on the verge of beginning to really 
masturbate in earnest. 

Then for a reason even she didn't understand, she sighed suddenly and sank 
back in the tub, her eyes opening wide and the motion of her hand between 
her thighs coming slowly to a stop. No, she wasn't going to do that. She 
wasn't going to masturbate. There might have been a time when she would 
have, feeling the way she felt now. But that time was past. Masturbation was 
play; but she had experienced the real thing. She would never really find 
true satisfaction, true fulfillment, until she experienced the real thing 
again. 

* * * 

There are moments in life, call them turning points or milestones, which one 
will await, long for or dread, imagine until they become almost real, almost 
lived before their time. Rarely, when one of these moments finally comes, 
does the reality of it correspond with the image so long anticipated. For 
Barbara, of course, her first day as a teacher was supposed to have been a 
milestone. In fact, perhaps because of everything else she'd been through 
during the last week and a half, that first day of classes hardly stood out 
from the day before or the day after. By the week's end it would just be one 
blurred memory out of time spent in a strange environment in which she still 
had not quite found her niche. 

Of course Barbara had done her stint as a student teacher, while still an 
undergraduate, to fulfill the requirement for her certificate. That had been 
at Galileo High in San Francisco. Hatfieldville and San Francisco were two 
different worlds. Perhaps, she thought, the distinction lay in the fact that 
a big city high school like Galileo consisted of hundreds of outsiders, 
pushed by circumstance into a bounded confine. That in fact was what a city 
was made up of. A small town, or a small town school, by contrast, consisted 
of the insiders, who had been placed in their respective niches and who 
could only with the greatest effort change their status in the society, and 
the outsiders, who had no niche, who wandered, as though in limbo or in the 
darkness of ignorance until they found their niche or it was found for them. 

Practically everybody in Hatfieldville High knew everybody else, and knew 
them intimately by the standards that prevailed in the places Barbara had 
lived before. There were several new students, but all but one of them had 
lived in Hatfieldville for at least half the summer, and though they were 
not really on the "inside", they were not total strangers. Barbara was the 
only new addition to the faculty. She had to get acquainted with her fellow 
teachers, she had to memorize the names of over a hundred students, but more 
important than learning their names, she had to learn who they were. That 
was the crux of the matter. These boys and girls all knew and understood 
each other, they were all fixed in their roles. Barbara had to recognize 
those roles, those places they filled in the school society, in order to 
deal with them as individuals. 

At the top of the student body hierarchy was Bobby Lane, this in spite of 
the fact that he was only a junior. His leadership derived in essence from 
the fact that as quarterback of the football team he was leader of the 
legendary "Four Horsemen". The nucleus of his group was made up of the other 
three backfielders, Danny Morrow, Jimmy Crane and Tommy Howard. These four 
boys had occupied four desks together in the back of the room where she 
taught the English Literature class. Sonny Wilkens, the cute youngster who'd 
taken her to Mr. Gladstone's place the afternoon she'd arrived, had also 
registered for this class in spite of the fact that he was only a sophomore. 
That put Sonny in two of her classes, for which she was grateful, as he was 
still the only person she'd met in Hatfieldville with whom she'd felt any 
genuine rapport. Sonny, who'd come from Southern California to live with his 
grandmother when his parents had been killed in a car-wreck several years 
ago, was also a kind of outsider. He was genuinely interested in reading, 
and while not brilliant, he was because of his interest far and away the 
best student in both of the classes for which he'd registered. 

So, gradually Barbara fell into the rhythm of teaching. She came to grasp 
the fact that football was king at Hatfieldville High, she tried not to 
fight that situation but to work within it and do her best to teach what 
she'd come here to teach without alienating her students by rejecting the 
sport they seemed to have been bred to focus their interest on in life. Of 
course after last year's scandal she inevitably was on trial herself. The 
first couple of days of classes she was subjected to considerable teasing, 
both to her face and behind her back, primarily at the hands of Bobby and 
his group. She tried to respond good naturedly, she did what she could to 
conceal the secret delight she derived from the unasked-for attention, and 
she thought that gradually she was winning the boys' respect. 

Night was the worst time. She had managed even to establish an uneasy peace 
with Coach Burt Johnson. She'd been surprised to discover he was a bachelor 
but when he'd invited her out for a meal and a movie she'd politely refused, 
having convinced herself that it was better not to have any social 
involvement with the man who was her boss and with whom she was hardly in 
agreement about the basic tenets of education. That was the only invitation 
out she'd had, except for a few playful overtures from Bobby, always made in 
front of his friends. She tried to read and watch television to while away 
the time, but she was constantly aware of a gnawing sense of unfulfillment 
that had plagued her ever since the night of her forced defloration by her 
fianc'. It was as much out of loneliness as anything else that when, on 
Thursday afternoon, Sonny Wilkens visited her alone in her home room and 
asked if he could come over to her house some time, she'd suggested that he 
come for dinner that night. The boy accepted gratefully and seemed genuinely 
pleased when Barbara suggested that since she really didn't know the first 
thing about football perhaps he could explain the basics of the game so she 
could better understand what was happening the following weekend when the 
team would have its opening game. He assured her he could tell her whatever 
she wished to know, then mumbled that there was something he'd wanted to 
talk to her about too and now each of them could help the other. But before 
Barbara could even ask him what that was he'd retreated awkwardly from the 
room. Barbara spent the rest of the day in a state of nervously fluttering 
excitement. She thought now that during the last week, spent in almost total 
solitude except for her time at school, she hadn't realized how really on 
edge she was. The thought of having male companionship for th evening, even 
if her companion was to be a young and innocent boy instead of a man, 
thrilled her almost beyond belief and it was with the enthusiasm of a 
teenage girl preparing for her first date that the sensuous young blonde did 
her dinner shopping and went home to prepare to entertain her guest. She put 
two juicy steaks to marinate in a special Chinese sauce she'd learned to 
make in San Francisco, put two large potatoes to bake in the oven, then went 
and quickly showered with the hose that attached to the faucet in the tub. 

Refreshed, her nakedly glistening skin still tingling with nervous 
excitement, Barbara got out of the shower and walked naked into her bedroom. 
She put on a pair of lacy black panties and a matching brassiere with flimsy 
net cups that did nothing to conceal the pert little points of her nipples. 
Then she hesitated, not sure what she should wear to greet her young 
visitor. She wanted to look her best, naturally, but by the same token she 
knew that she should be careful to be respectably and modestly dressed when 
he arrived. At last she selected a tight-fitting maroon sweater and a light 
beige skirt which stopped just above her knees. She put on a pair of thonged 
sandals with leather straps that wound around her ankles to hold them on, 
and which accented the length of her legs. Then she brushed out the golden 
locks of her hair, which she wore hanging long and loose over her slender 
shoulders, and went back out to prepare the steaks for cooking. 

It was seven o'clock on the dot when Barbara heard the knock on the door. 
Her heartbeat slightly hastened as she hurried down the hall to open it. 
Sonny stood on the front porch, looking red-faced and slightly embarrassed. 
Tucked under his arm were a couple of books and several mimeographed sheets 
of paper stapled together. 

"I hope I'm not late, or early," he said in a quavering voice. 

Barbara laughed gaily, her firm voluptuous breasts bouncing teasingly on her 
slender torso. "No, Sonny. You're just in time. Come in." 

"I brought a couple of books about football, and here's my copy of Coach 
Johnson's playbook. This will be more help than anything else. See?" he 
said, stopping just inside the door and holding up a bunch of mimeographed 
papers cluttered with hand-drawn diagrams. "The O's are us and the X's are 
the other team. These lines with the arrows on the end show where every man 
is supposed to go. The slash means a block, the dotted lines mean pass and 
this little V means a hand-off." 

"Yes," Barbara smiled, though she'd hardly even followed what he said. "I'm 
sure that will be very helpful. Now, why don't you go into the living room 
and make yourself comfortable. I'll go and broil the steaks." 

"Steaks?" he croaked. 

"Sure. Don't you like steak? And a baked potato with butter and sour cream?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, steak is great," Sonny said, though Barbara noted a slight lack 
of conviction in his voice. 

She escorted the youngster to the living room, where the dining table was 
already set, then went to the kitchen and put the two sirloins on the 
broiler. Ten minutes later she served up the two juicy chunks of beef and 
the potatoes and small accompanying salads, then took the two plates out to 
the living room, where the young boy was lounging on the couch. They sat 
down at opposite ends of the table and Barbara filled their glasses with 
iced-tea from the pitcher she'd brought out earlier. Then she attacked her 
steak and potato with relish. 

"After dinner maybe I can go over the play-sheet with you," Sonny offered. 

"That's very nice. Maybe we will," Barbara answered without real interest, 
then looked up. "But what was it you were saying you wanted to talk to me 
about?" 

A flicker of nervous alarm showed in Sonny's face and he averted his eyes. 
"Oh, nothing I guess." 

Barbara smiled warmly. "Now I know there's something, otherwise you wouldn't 
have mentioned it. We'll get to it when we've finished eating." Then she 
paused, noting that Sonny had hardly touched his food. "Is there something 
wrong?" 

"Hunh?" 

"You're not eating. Is there something wrong with your steak." 

"Naw," Sonny said, shaking his head. "I.. . I had to eat first over at my 
grandmother's. See, she wouldn't. . . she wouldn't.. . " 

The boy's voice trailed off and he was unable to meet Barbara's eyes. "She 
wouldn't what?" Barbara insisted, then just before Sonny spoke she thought 
she understood. 

"I didn't want her to know I was coming over here because.. . well, you 
know.. . what happened last year and all.. . " 

"Oh my God," Barbara gasped, putting down her knife and fork. "This is worse 
than I expected. Now what would that have to do with you coming to visit me? 
I'm myself, not that other woman. And your grandmother seemed perfectly 
friendly toward me the day I first got here. She even sent you to help me 
with my suitcase." Then the young blonde's eyes suddenly sharpened. "Sonny? 
Were you involved with Dorothy Priddy?" 

Sonny swallowed hard. "No. No, I wasn't." 

"Well, I'm glad at least for that. But why would your grandmother worry 
about you having dinner over here." 

Sonny looked down at the floor. "I dunno. Maybe she wouldn't. I didn't ask 
her or anything. I figured it was just better if I didn't mention it." 

"And what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Barbara asked 
suspiciously. 

"Oh heck," Sonny said, shaking his head. "I feel really stupid for even 
coming here." 

"I don't want you to feel that way," Barbara said softly. "Let me finish my 
steak at least and we'll sit down and talk the whole thing over, whatever it 
is that's bothering you." 

But the interruption had caused her to lose her appetite and after only 
several more bites she rose suddenly, took Sonny's plate along with her own 
and carried them back to the kitchen. She had emptied them and just put them 
to soak when Sonny came into the room after her, bearing the iced-tea 
pitcher and the silverware Barbara had left on the table. 

"Oh thank you, Sonny," she said, pleased at the teenager's considerateness. 
She pitched the knives and forks into the dishwater, then ushered him out of 
the kitchen and back to the living room. At her direction Sonny took a seat 
on the couch and after a moment's hesitation she joined him there rather 
than taking the easy chair across the room. "Now Sonny, what was it you 
wanted to come over here to talk to me about?" 

Sonny shook his head, breathing audibly. "Golly, Miss Halperin. I don't even 
know how to start. You're going to think.. . well I don't know what you're 
gonna think." 

Barbara gazed tenderly over at the nervous youngster. For a moment he looked 
back at her, his eyes wandering hungrily down over the full swells of her 
breasts clearly defined in the tight-fitting sweater she wore. Then again he 
looked away and cleared his throat, but said nothing. 

"Does it have something to do with this other teacher?" 

Sonny nodded and looked up. "What it has to do with . . . I wasn't in on 
that." 

"I . . . don't understand," Barbara said after a moment's hesitation. 

"Well . . . Sonny began again, then his voice trailed off and he shrugged 
his shoulders helplessly. 

"Oh Sonny," Barbara whispered, her hand moving up to touch the side of his 
face in a gesture of almost maternal sympathy. "Tell me then, what did 
happen? What was really behind the scandal?" 

"She . . . Miss Priddy, she wasn't nearly as young or good-looking as you 
are," the youngster hesitantly began. "But she was really wild, you know. 
She'd just got a divorce from her old man when she come here, and Bobby and 
the other guys started working on her and one night at one of the victory 
dances-we have a victory dance on Saturday night if we win, and we almost 
always win-Bobby got her in his pick-up and did it to her." 

Barbara gasped at the crudeness of the story, and the boy hesitated until 
she said tersely, "Go on Sonny; I'm listening." 

"Word got around pretty fast, among the guys I mean. I heard them talking 
about it and at first I didn't even believe it. Then one day she asked me to 
come over and do some work, helping her clean out the attic of old Jim 
Miller's place, where she was living. And she started telling me . . . 
telling me I was cute and all that sissy sort of stuff. I didn't know what 
to do and so I didn't do anything. 

After that the other guys really started bugging me, because by this time 
the whole backfield and about half the line had already fu-already done it 
to her. And then I knew it was true. And finally it really hit the fan the 
night of the pep rally before the Winders Falls game. They took her off in 
Bobby's pickup and got some beer and gang-banged her. Everybody but me." 

Oh God, Barbara thought, her mind recoiling at the revolting story the story 
the young boy had just so nervously recounted. Her hand still lay softly on 
his face and she could feel the nervous trembling of his body, almost feel 
the pain he was putting himself through to tell her all this. And she still 
didn't know what he'd really had in mind by coming over here to talk to her 
about this, but she did know that she had to do whatever she could to help 
him. What he'd just confessed, though it should hardly have made him 
ashamed, told her so very much about his relationship with the coarser and 
more worldly boys at the school, and she realized that by a certain way of 
looking at it, what had happened, or not happened, the day Miss Priddy had 
invited him to her home could even account for the way the boys in the 
pick-up had jeered and catcalled at her the first day when they'd seen her 
with him on the street outside. 

"But Sonny," Barbara began tenderly, "you should be proud that you didn't 
get involved in all that. Why I've never heard such a disgusting story in my 
life. You should be proud." 

"Proud of what? That I'm about the only guy left above freshman in this 
whole school who hasn't had his first piece of.. . well, you know." 

"But that will come in time," Barbara blurted. "You'll find a girl, a nice 
girl your age, who you can care for and with whom you can make . . . make it 
meaningful." 

"I'm not going to find any nice girls in this stupid town. The only thing 
these girls are interested in is being with the football heroes, and Fm not 
even on the team. I'm nothing. I'm just a lousy water boy, like Gunga Din." 

"That's not true," Barbara insisted, surprised at the poetic reference to 
Kipling. 

"That's what they think around here, the boys and the girls both." 

"That's not what I think," Barbara said with hastily quickening breath. She 
dropped her hand to cover Sonny's wrist, then let it rest on his knee. She 
saw the hope flicker in his eyes and he was looking at her as if trying to 
ascertain whether what she'd said was sincere. Then he looked down from her 
face, his eyes searching intently over the supple curves of her body, 
lingering momentarily on the up-thrust mounds of her breasts before 
descending to her smoothly tapering waist and flaring hips, her long 
beautiful legs outlined beneath the clinging material of her skirt. 

Now Barbara was acutely aware of the way the boy was looking at her and she 
knew he was becoming sexually aroused in spite of all his shame and 
awkwardness. He was so innocent and she could only imagine the suffering and 
embarrassment that had prompted him to come seeking help from her. She knew 
how boys could be, how they seemed compelled always to gang up and attack 
the weakest in their group, and though she knew that their conversation had 
ventured over the danger line, and knew that it was not proper for her to 
sit here with him like this with him staring with such open, hunger at her 
lithe young body, she knew also that for her to reject him in any way now 
might cause irreparable damage to his ego. 

Sonny moistened his lips, his eyes again lifting hopefully to Barbara's 
sensuously smiling face. "I guess the real reason I wanted to come here . . 
. , " he began, his voice again fading off. 

"What, Sonny," Barbara coaxed, waiting with baited breath. "Why did you come 
here." 

"I guess I had the idea you and I were somewhat alike," he said after a 
pause. 

"Alike?" Barbara said with surprise, wondering if somehow this innocent 
youngster could have sensed her own past and grasped the fact that she had 
spent a number of years of her life considering herself almost a kind of 
freak because she had remained a virgin much longer than most of her 
contemporaries. "How do you mean, alike?" 

"We're different than the people here," Sonny said. "I mean, I know you 
don't care about football and all that. I don't either. The only reason I 
even agreed to be assistant trainer was that it kept me from being 
completely left out. And you're not like the other girls . . . I mean women, 
around town." 

"Oh Sonny," Barbara said softly, little tingles of delight dancing over her 
skin as she gazed into the boy's excited eyes. She could feel a very deep 
trembling in her own belly and she felt almost like reaching and hugging 
him, kissing him, showing him at least the way to approach the seduction of 
a woman. But she knew it was wrong for her to even be thinking in those 
terms. Perhaps even now she was courting the same disaster that had befallen 
the woman who'd been her predecessor here, and suddenly she sat up stiffly 
on the couch, turning slightly away and trying to get a grip on her own 
fluttering emotions. 

"Now I've made you mad," Sonny said, dejected. 

"Oh no!" Barbara turned abruptly back to the wounded youngster, realizing 
she'd done exactly what she'd wanted to avoid doing. She had made him feel 
rejected, and she knew that was an act she had to rectify immediately. "No 
Sonny, you didn't make me mad. I feel almost flattered that you should talk 
to me like that." 

Sonny was again looking at her with that same furtive hope, and as she 
stared back into his innocent blue eyes the flood of emotion that swelled in 
Barbara's breasts was almost more than she could contain. God, she had been 
so lonely so very lonely, during the week since she'd come here. And for her 
it had been only a week, while for Sonny it had been several years. 

Then, almost before she knew what she was doing, the sensuous young blonde 
turned sideways on the couch and reached her arms out to wrap them eagerly 
around Sonny's slender, shaking frame. Her fingers combed softly through his 
curly blond hair and she took a quick deep breath before leaning forward and 
touched her lips to his, holding him tightly to her for a moment before she 
drew back and pushed him gently away. 

"There Sonny," Barbara murmured with a fleeting smile. "Now at least you've 
kissed a woman, if you never had before." 

"Yes," Sonny agreed with an eager nod. 

Barbara smiled, hoping the excitement surging over her own tingling skin 
didn't show. "So I hope you feel better," she said, trying to sound as 
casual as she could. 

"Yeah, but . . . , " Sonny began nervously, finding it necessary to rally 
his courage before finally blurting: "But I sure would like to do it again. 
Could we, maybe a little longer this time and . . . " 

Barbara started to say no, but the words didn't leave her mouth. Instead she 
waited in silence, knowing that now she really was treading onto dangerous 
territory, yet still unable to bring herself to make an outright refusal of 
the youngster's request. Of course there could be nothing really serious 
between them. She wasn't worried about that. She wasn't going to seduce 
Sonny and she wasn't going to be seduced by him. She doubted if he was even 
big enough or powerful enough to take advantage of her the way Greg had 
their last night together. But still she knew it was improper for her to be 
here with him like this, and she was almost at the point of explaining it to 
him on that level when he suddenly leaned forward, gathering her slender 
body awkwardly into his arms and locking his lips ardently over her slightly 
open mouth. 

The young school teacher started, trying weakly to struggle free from the 
eager embrace. And yet she couldn't deny her excitement at Sonny's 
surprising show of aggression even as she pushed against his body her mouth 
was sucking his cautiously exploring tongue deep between her teeth. Then she 
ceased to resist altogether, letting her body go almost limp and squirming 
her breasts warmly against the frailness of his chest. Now she felt almost 
eager as she shamelessly wriggled the soft supple curves of her body even 
closer against the trembling teenager, delighting in the feel of his firm 
small pectorals rippling against her breasts as he held her tightly to his 
heaving chest. Then she gasped from the even more devastating surge of 
passion that ripped through her body as Sonny reached up suddenly to cup his 
hand over one of the lust-tightened swells of her breasts, and she reached 
up to wrap her arms again eagerly around his shoulders to pull him even more 
tightly to her. 

A low moan of pleasure swelled in Barbara's throat as Sonny's fingers sought 
out the little distended bud of one of her nipples. 

His other hand was clawing frenziedly at her back and she felt half-drunk 
with the forbidden physical delight of this masculine contact, lost with the 
rising passion rushing almost out of control through her tingling flesh. 
Then her whole body jerked, a further chill of delight coursing up her spine 
as one of Sonny's hands suddenly moved up beneath her sweater to cup firmly 
over one of her breasts, now protected from his touch by nothing but the 
gauze-like cup of her skimpy little brassiere. 

Sonny was hanging onto the new English teacher's lustfully squirming body 
with all his might, his lips again wetly covering her mouth as he pawed 
awkwardly at her breasts. Barbara could feel the blood raging deep within 
her body and she knew she was duty bound to stop him right now. She'd 
certainly had nothing like this in mind when she'd decided to give him a 
kiss, but in her delirious state of excitement it seemed impossible to 
resist. It felt so good, so warm, so thrilling just to hold him in her arms. 
It was all so exciting and perverse, and as the young boy continued to paw 
and maul her aroused flesh she told hrself that still there was no real 
danger. She could always stop Sonny when it became necessary, and in the 
meantime, it couldn't do any harm to play around a little and enjoy herself 
for just a few minutes longer. 

Then another low moan rose in the young school teacher's throat as Sonny 
moved his hand down from her back to find the hem of her modest length 
skirt, tugging it quickly up her thighs almost to the leg-band of her 
tight-fitting little panties. A shudder coursed through her slender 
lust-racked body as she felt his fingers touch her inner thigh just above 
the knee, moving swiftly up across her sensitive satiny skin. 

"Oh no, Sonny. Stop," Barbara purred halfheartedly, tearing her lips away 
from the youngster's mouth as she felt his other hand press and squeeze even 
more forcibly at her breast. A little cry of mingled pain and excitement 
burst from her throat as he took her already distended nipple and rolled it 
forcibly between his thumb and forefinger to cause the little bud to swell 
to even greater hardness. Then his hand up beneath her skirt brushed along 
the tight-straining tendon at the top of her inner thigh, venturing 
gradually higher, and in sudden fearful desperation at the maddening urges 
coursing through her lust-ignited flesh she reached down to seize his wrist 
and try to tug his hand down from beneath her skirt. 

For the briefest moment Sonny fought back. Barbara held his wrist firmly in 
her own and she was struggling with all her strength to push it away from 
the burning softness of her cunt, and Sonny was pushing back just as hard, 
his fingers extended and groping until they just touched the little silken 
crotch band of her sheer panties stretched tight across the thinly haired 
plane of her pussy. Then he relaxed slightly, letting his hand slide back 
halfway down to her knee where he dug his fingers into the sensitive flesh 
so hard she cried out in pain, and as he tried to make a stand there between 
her legs his other hand suddenly yanked the flimsy little brassiere-cups 
away from her breasts, his fingers now tweaking and gouging at the nakedness 
of her rigidly swollen nipples. His mouth again covered hers firmly and he 
threw his weight hard against her, pushing her to a half-reclining position 
against the armrest of the couch. 

Now Barbara was really fighting for her life, her own lust mushrooming to a 
crescendo at the sheer animal assault being launched against her 
desire-saturated body. Still clinging to the hand that was thrust up beneath 
her skirt, with her other hand, she reached up beneath her sweater to try to 
defend her breasts. She bucked and squirmed, alternately sucking at Sonny's 
tongue and trying to fight it from the warm moist hollow of her mouth. And 
then, when she feared she was just on the verge of ceasing to resist, Sonny 
sighed, relaxed, ceased his struggling and, as she gave a little shove 
against his chest, straightened up and removed his two hands respectively 
from beneath her sweater and skirt. 

"Oh Sonny," Barbara gasped breathlessly, experiencing a strange mixture of 
triumph and disappointment as she realized her defense had been successful. 

"I'm sorry," Sonny gasped, staring still wild-eyed at her lust-strained 
face. 

"I know you are," Barbara managed in a quivering voice. "But you've got to 
go. You've got to go right now." 

"No please!" 

"Come on." She stood up suddenly, taking him by his wrist and jerking him up 
from the couch, leading him almost forcibly from the living room and down 
the hall to the door. 

"Now go, Sonny. Go on before we do something we'll both regret." 

"But.. . " 

"But nothing." 

"But.. . if I go now, can I come back again sometime?" 

"Oh Sonny. All right. But now you've got to go." 

She watched him retreat down the steps, half-dejected, half-hopeful. Then 
she turned and walked on wobbly legs back down the hall to the living room. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

That happened on Friday. He came back to her house the next Sunday night. 

Though as a child Barbara had been given a strict religious upbringing, she 
had during the time she was in college ceased to attend services regularly. 
This was not to say that she had abandoned her faith in God. If anything, 
her faith had grown stronger once it had been allowed to grow naturally 
rather than existing as an obligation to her parents. 

She had merely come to the conclusion that she could believe in God and love 
and serve him independent of any dogma or any organization. But on Saturday 
Coach Johnson had encountered her in the supermarket where she was shopping 
for the weekend's groceries and reminded her that he expected to see her at 
services the next morning, and she had concluded that it was probably 
advisable to attend. In a small town like this it certainly would serve no 
purpose for people to get the idea she was some kind of atheist or agnostic, 
and in any event getting dressed and going to church would give her 
something to do. 

Of course Sonny was also at church, sitting with his grandmother in the 
center section-Bobby Lane and his bunch, Barbara noted, occupied the pew at 
the rear and on more than one occasion during the service either the pastor 
or Burt Johnson saw fit to cast them stern glares of disapproval at their 
whispered conversation or giggling. Sonny was involved in a mischief of his 
own. 

Barbara was sitting next to Mr. Gladstone, a couple of pews back of the cute 
blond-headed youngster whose awkward and eager hands had on Friday night 
pawed and mauled so hungrily over her salaciously yielding body, and 
throughout the course of the long boring sermon he'd repeatedly kept looking 
back at her, hungrily, lustfully, his eyes sheepishly pleading for some sign 
of approval or recognition, intimate, until Barbara could have almost died 
of shame at the thought of what the rest of the congregation would think if 
they knew what had happened between them. 

And yet in all her shame and humiliation at what had happened between her 
and the innocent young boy, the mere memory of their illicit little 
interlude on her living room couch caused her skin to tingle with renewed 
hunger beneath the modest dress-suit she'd worn for the service, and as she 
let her own mind wander over the titillating recollection she was aware of a 
deep maddening flutter far up between her thighs and even a slight dampening 
of her panties by the time the final hymn was sung. 

Feeling nervously distraught, Barbara went through the formalities of 
politely refusing a few invitations to Sunday dinner. She did her best to 
avoid looking directly at Sonny and fled the church as quickly as possible, 
going back to the security of her little duplex. 

It was about seven o'clock that evening that she heard the knock on the 
door. It was a sultry late summer evening and, having had no intention of 
leaving her house, Barbara was lounging around in nothing but a pair of 
tight pussy-high Levi shorts and a sleeveless pink sweater which, lacking 
the presence of a brassiere, served to sensuously accent the shape and 
firmness of her high up-standing breasts. 

Barbara rose from her place in the easy chair before the television, her 
breath hastening slightly. She ran quickly down the list of people who could 
possibly be turning up now. Sonny's name came last to her mind, and that was 
the one that remained. For the briefest instant she thought of the way she 
was dressed, or almost undressed, and she considered the thought of changing 
into something more modest. Then as the knock was repeated she abandoned 
that proposition, switched off the television and hurried down the hall to 
the door. 

Sonny stood outside on the porch, his young eyes bulging slightly at the 
sight of Barbara's long, completely exposed legs. For a moment neither of 
them said anything. He stood on the porch, fidgeting nervously with his 
hands. Barbara stood inside, her breasts rising and falling visibly with her 
hastened breath-rate as she stared out through the screen. Then slowly she 
pushed the screen open, her eyes unconsciously surveying the street to 
ascertain whether anyone happened to be looking at her house. Then she 
looked back at Sonny, whose eyes were roving without inhibition over the 
lushly revealed curves of her slender inviting form. 

"W-what do you want, Sonny?" she asked at length in a soft strained voice. 

"Can I come in?" 

Barbara bit her lip. "I.. . I really think it's better that you don't." 

"But you promised. The other day when I left you promised I could come back 
again." 

Barbara breathed in deeply, gazing with a mingling of apprehension and 
longing down at the young boy's hopeful face. She remembered her 
embarrassing physical response earlier in the day at church when she'd seen 
him looking at her and had let herself recall their salacious carryings-on 
the last time she'd had him here in the house, and she knew that it would be 
insane for her to let him in again. And yet she couldn't help being happy to 
see him. She was lonely, and the natural yearnings of her awakened young 
body were making themselves known in spite of all her efforts to keep them 
under control. 

"Please Miss Halperin," Sonny begged abjectly. "Please, I've got to see you. 
I couldn't stand it looking at you today in church and then the way you ran 
off as soon as the service was over. You made me feel almost like you hated 
me or something." 

Barbara sighed. "All right, Sonny. You can come in for a minute. 

She pushed the screen-door open and Sonny brushed past her and walked 
quickly down the hall to the living room. Barbara followed more slowly on 
her bare feet, her heart pounding frantically and her breathing rising to a 
pitch. Reaching the living room door, she saw that Sonny was already seated 
on the couch. She didn't have the slightest doubt that he expected her to 
join him, and that was just the thing that she was not under any 
circumstances going to do. 

"All right, Sonny. What's on your mind." Barbara stood like an animal at bay 
in the center of the room. She was intensely conscious of her own slender, 
half-clothed body. She knew the shorts she'd worn were so tight the 
youngster must almost be able to see the slit of her pussy outlined in their 
crotch, and without a brassiere the tight-fitting little sweater she wore 
did almost nothing to conceal her breasts. Her sheer vulnerability to his 
hungering gaze only served to increase the excitement stirring in her loins 
and she knew that if she didn't send him away soon she might really be in 
trouble. "What do you want? You know I don't think it's right for you to 
come here after what happened the other night." 

"But I have to see you, Miss Halperin. I have to." Sonny hesitated briefly, 
then patted the place beside him on the couch. "Won't you . . . won't you 
come over here." 

"No Sonny," Barbara said courageously, sucking in a low gusty breath and 
shaking her head in the negative. "I'm not coming over there Sonny. And what 
happened the other night, it's not going to happen again." 

"But.. . , " Sonny gazed pleadingly at the shorts-clad blonde. The boy had 
been able to think of nothing but the sexy English teacher since night 
before last when he'd come here and almost made out with her, feeling her 
breasts and almost reaching her pussy. He didn't think he could stand it if 
he didn't get the chance to do that to her again. It was driving him out of 
his mind just thinking about, and this evening she looked better than ever. 

Suddenly convinced he was going to have to move quickly and take positive 
action on his own behalf before Miss Halperin kicked him out of her house, 
Sonny rose suddenly and moved swiftly toward the center of the room. Then 
before Barbara could even move to resist he reached out with both hands to 
seize the shorts-clad half-moons of her buttocks, pulling her body forcibly 
to his and planting several clumsy kisses on the golden flesh of her 
shoulders and neck. 

"God Miss Halperin, I'm sorry," he groaned heavily in her ear as she put up 
a faint struggle of resistance against the aggressive and awkward embrace. 
"I can't help it. You're too beautiful. I've got to touch you. I've just got 
to." 

"Ooohhh," Barbara moaned with spontaneous unwanted delight as the boy 
bounced onto his tiptoes and trailed his tongue along the sensitive smoothly 
tanned skin of her neck. She could feel the blood rushing deep in her loins 
and in the tingling nipples of her breasts. Then his lips were on her mouth, 
his hands digging deeply into the round pliant firmness of her squirming 
ass-cheeks, teasing and squeezing them with an urgency that jarred her from 
head to foot. She could feel his boyish cock pressing up against her bared 
inner thighs through the cloth of the crotch of his trousers, and her 
panty-covered vagina seemed to be throbbing with its own personal passion 
down inside her skimpy tight-fitting little shorts. She was doing everything 
she could to fight the illicit impulses surging through her loins, but more 
and more the unleashed desire that had lain dormant in her so long was 
beginning to take control of her body, spirit and mind. 

"Oh Sonny, please!" Barbara cried out with a low, lust-strained gasp, 
suddenly tearing his lips away from the young boy's mouth and pulling her 
head back to stare down at him with lust-glazed eyes. Yet still she was 
unable to disengage her body from his. She could still feel the bulging 
hardness of his cock now shoved right up between her thighs so the crotch of 
his trousers fitted right in against the crotch of her own shorts, and she 
could feel the pressure of his straining rigidity shoved right against the 
plane of her lust-moistened little cunt. 

Then Sonny's hand slipped down from her buttocks, pushing up between her 
thighs from the back to cause a friction of the Levi material right over the 
cringing little hole of her anus before his fingers pressed against her 
little cunt-slit itself, barely protected by the thinness of her panties and 
clinging shorts. 

"Oh God!" Barbara sobbed in a genuinely anguished tone as she felt further 
tremors of excitement coursing out relentlessly through her lust-tortured 
loins. Then the pressure of his probing finger increased, intensifying the 
raw sensation, and for a moment she thought she would swoon right there in 
Sonny's arms. Then somewhere deep in her subconscious a warning bell seemed 
to ring, and with a sudden animal gasp she began to tug and kick and 
struggle with all her might, her bare feet stomping into Sonny's shins, one 
of her knees jerking upward in a jackknife motion between his legs at the 
same time her hand found his face and her fingernails dug into the skin and 
clawed. 

"Uggghhh! Owwwweeee!" 

She heard the grunt from the contact of her knee, the cry that answered her 
scraping hand. She was free. Half-doubled over, Sonny was stepping back from 
her, his hands clutching at his crotch. 

Her breasts rising and falling heavily with her low strained animal-like 
breath, Barbara stared at him slack-jawed, wide-eyed with excitement and 
anger, fear and compelling want. For a moment she could hardly even sort out 
in her mind what had happened. The first thought that popped into her head 
almost caused her legs to go weak. If he were stronger, she was thinking, he 
would take me now, he would take me now and fuck me, and he would do it 
whether I wanted it or not. 

Her mind reeled from the very thought of it. Then Barbara was suddenly 
snapped to another level of reality by Sonny's whimpering wail: 

"My balls! You've busted my balls!" 

Barbara's hand flew up to her mouth and a little sob burst to her lips as 
she saw Sonny groaning and cringing in pain before her. My God, without 
realizing it she had kneed him right in the testicles. She had really hurt 
him and she could see the pain, both mental and physical, mirrored clearly 
on his face. And worse, she recognized all too clearly her own subconscious 
motive for her sudden violent defense. She knew she could have stopped Sonny 
with far less than the drastic measures she'd employed. But the truth was 
that she hadn't really wanted to stop him. Subconsciously, her desire had 
been to provoke him to an even more fervent attack. She had wanted to 
recreate the conditions of that one night Greg had forced her to do what she 
so badly wanted to and couldn't until she was forced. 

"Oh my God, Sonny," Barbara gasped, her remorse welling almost parallel to 
her still insatiable raging lust. "What have I done, oh Sonny, Sonny . . . " 

"You kicked me in the balls," the boy gasped, grimacing and writhing in 
pain, his hand still clutched protectively to his groin. 

Barbara's lips were quivering and her eyes filled with tears of shame and 
remorse as she confronted that terrible discovery about herself. She felt as 
if she'd found an evil growth that was slowly devouring her body and she 
thought she could have died rather than face that hurt look in Sonny's 
glaring eyes. She knew that somehow she had to make it up to him for what 
she had done. She could see that his trust in her and his confidence in 
himself was completely destroyed, and it seemed to her now almost certain 
that he saw as clearly as she did her real perverse and ulterior motive for 
what she had done. And she had to undo that horrible action. Somehow she had 
to turn the clock back. She had to have his forgiveness; otherwise, how 
would she ever forgive herself? 

Then, still not sure what she was going to do, Barbara stepped toward the 
trembling teenager, who retreated a couple of paces before finally allowing 
her to wrap her arms around him and hug his face to her breasts. Barbara 
moaned deeply, her guilt and her overflowing of emotion only heightening the 
deep throbbing in her belly and loins. She squeezed Sonny warmly to her, 
showering kisses on his head and cheeks, squirming her breasts full against 
his face. Then, her own passion rising like mercury in a boiling 
thermometer, she guided the still distrustful teenager back to the couch, 
urged him to a sitting position and dropped down quickly beside him. 

"Oh, Sonny, did I hurt you?" she whispered. "Did I hurt you . . . down 
there?" 

She said it and as she spoke her eyes dropped toward the lower half of his 
body. Her hands trembled as she reached down to remove his hand, still 
shielding his injured groin, and as he quivered before her she lay her hand 
down gently directly on the crotch of his Levi's. She felt his now deflated 
cock-shaft through the coarse material, evidence that his cries of pain had 
not been faked; then, as she began to stroke gently over his little member 
from the outside of the trousers that protected it, she felt it's hardness 
coming back. Then, still not thinking of the possible consequences of her 
action, Barbara sezied the zipper catch and pulled it slowly downward. When 
she had his fly open she fitted her hand inside to grasp the already almost 
fully-erected shaft of his penis. She worked it out of his jockey shorts and 
freed it completely to protrude straight up out of his open trousers fly, 
the slitted glans at the tip glistening with a little drop of seminal fluid 
that had seeped out and bore witness to the regeneration of his lust. 

"Oh Sonny, I'm so sorry," Barbara whimpered in her lust-inspired delirium. 
She wrapped her hand around the now upstanding shaft of his cock, squeezing 
it tightly between her inexperienced fingers as her other hand went up to 
loosen the buttons of his shirt and then undo his belt and the top button of 
his trousers to give her even greater access to the object of her illicit 
desire. 

"Oh!" Sonny gasped, a trace of suspicion lingering in his voice in spite of 
his renewed excitement. "W-what are you doing?" 

Barbara was too involved in the masochistic expiation of her guilt and the 
correlative lust surging through her own body to even answer. Her head was 
spinning in a spiral of sensual need, and slowly she began an up-and-down 
stroking motion along his straining little cock-shaft, her fingers tracing 
lightly over the swollen veins and the resiliency pulsing flesh. She still 
didn't even know what she was going to do. Ever since her violent outburst 
when she had kneed him in the groin she had been operating on sheer feminine 
instinct. All she did know was that she had hurt him, here, right on his 
youthful genitalia; now she was determined to make him feel good, on the 
same area of his anatomy. 

"Ooooooh boy!" Sonny groaned in spite of himself as Barbara continued the 
teasing pumping rhythm of her hand sliding up and down the length of his 
cock. 

Now Barbara was almost out of her mind with masochistic craving. She stared 
hungrily down at his small resilient hardness, marveling at its youthful 
benignity compared with the giant shattering maleness that just less than 
two weeks ago had permanently lacerated the sensitive hymen of her vagina. 
And as she continued to tease and fondle the excited and astonished 
youngster, the words that poured from her lips were like a pagan chant of 
invitation to joy and delight: 

"Oh Sonny, did I hurt your little penis, did I hurt your balls? I'm going to 
make it up to you, I promise I'm going to make it up. Did I hurt you there, 
oh God, what can I do to make it well? What can I do? Would you like me to 
kiss it, Sonny? Would that make it well?" 

The words came to her as distant echoes, hardly even like her own voice, but 
Sonny's reply sounded real enough: "Yes, Miss Halperin. Kiss it. I bet then 
it would really feel all right again." 

Oh my God, Barbara though, blinking in astonishment as she realized what 
she'd said. And yet she had said it, she had offered to do this in return 
for what she had done before, and as she gazed narrow-eyed down at the 
purplish straining shaft the suggestion did not seem half as revolting as 
she would have imagined. In fact, there was something almost awesomely 
beautiful and tasty-looking about the erected little cock-shaft she held 
gripped so tightly in her palm, and with a low gasp she pushed Sonny 
straight down to a reclining position on his back. She leaned forward, 
lowering her face over his loins, her blonde hair dangling down over her 
cheeks like a tent around the up-thrust pole of his hard young maleness, her 
lips poised but inches from his blood-swollen cock-tip. 

Then with a low gasp the masochistically aroused blonde dropped her face 
lower, extending her tongue out so it darted into the tiny slit of the 
purplish glans to lick up the little droplet of seminal fluid that had 
seeped forth. She'd never done anything like this in her life, and she was 
both surprised and excited by the pleasing tangy taste of the clear viscous 
substance. She gripped his pulsing cockshaft firmly at the base between her 
thumb and forefinger, pulling the skin tightly down and holding it there as 
she observed and studied the slitted little opening staring back at her now 
like the eye of a Cyclops. Then, surrendering completely to her irresistible 
urge, she moaned softly and dropped her head lower, letting her lips part 
into a salacious oval to envelop his whole rubbery blunt-ended cockhead. 

Sonny gasped out in surprise, his face turning pink as Barbara's moist lips 
covered the end of his cock. Her tongue swirled in teasing circles around 
his sensitively jerking cock-head and she could feel his penis further 
stiffening as she dropped her mouth lower. She heard Sonny groan, and before 
she even realized what was happening, he reached down to run both his hands 
through her long golden hair, holding her face buried against his loins as 
he thrust his buttocks up from the couch in an act of instinctive aggression 
that drove his palpitating rod of flesh all the way to the hilt into 
Barbara's helplessly unresisting mouth. 

"Uggghhhhh!" the startled blonde grunted. This was more than she'd intended 
to do but with the grip he had on her hair it seemed impossible to resist. 
The boy's sudden seizing of the offensive had almost gagged her and she 
thought she would choke from the now seemingly monstrous presence of his 
lust-swollen cock-head buried far in the back of her throat. And yet she 
took a strange masochistic pleasure even in this depraved use of her mouth. 
Now Sonny thrust his buttocks upward, impaling her mouth deeper with his 
pummeling hardness, and she groaned even louder, struggling, gasping to 
catch her breath on the out-stroke before he thrust fiercely again up 
between her lips. 

Then, still clinging tightly to her hair and to the back of her neck, he 
began to hump and buck in a frenzied rhythm, ramming brutally inward time 
and time again until he was literally banging into her face with his 
pounding upward lunges. 

Shamelessly Barbara submitted to this cruel fucking into her ill-used mouth. 
Sonny's pelvis was jerking in a frenzy of lustful force, his whole body 
trembling as he bucked up and down in staccato rhythm to ram his expanded 
cock deeper and deeper up between her slavishly sucking lips. She could feel 
the resilient ridges of the hard-pumped flesh swelling against her hollowed 
cheeks, his spongy cock-head slamming against her sensitive tonsils, and she 
tasted more of his tangy viscous seminal fluid mingling with her own freely 
flowing saliva. And then suddenly as the excited teenager's body abruptly 
began to quiver rigidly, the reality of what was about to happen dawned on 
her with all the force of a sledgehammer hitting her on the head. 

He was going to cum! And if she didn't get away he was going to do it right 
in her mouth! 

"Mmmmmnnnn! Uhhhhggghhh! Noooo pleaseeee!" Barbara groaned and gurgled 
almost unintelligibly around his hard shaft of flesh still plunging 
frenziedly to the threshold of her throat. She jerked her head violently 
back, but Sonny clung desperately to her hair, then dropped his hands to 
seize her by both her ears, pulling her face again flush against his loins 
as his penis flexed even larger into her already obscenely stretched and 
hollowed mouth. 

Oh God, she thought. He was really going to do it, forcibly, and there 
wasn't any way she could stop him. He was going to cum in her mouth whether 
she submitted or not. It was just like the night Greg had finally lost his 
patience after all that time and fucked her in spite of all her attempts to 
resist, and she realized that under the present circumstances it was exactly 
what she'd asked for. It was as if her evil thought had backfired in her 
face. He hadn't had the strength to overpower and rape her in the standard 
fashion, but once she'd been placed in this groveling position over his 
loins, the grip of his hands holding tightly to each of her ears made it 
impossible for her to escape. 

Then, her body trembling in masochistic resignation, Barbara reached one of 
her hands down between her thighs and up to her shorts to rub swiftly up and 
down across the crotch band of the little garment. She could feel that her 
panties were completely moistened, and the desire welling through her loins 
was almost more than she could bear. She was going to give Sonny his 
release; she had to have her own, and in an even greater desperation she 
extended her middle finger and slipped it straight up inside the leg of her 
shorts, pulling the crotch band of her moistened panties aside and working 
her stiffened digit straight up into the juicy folds of her cunt. 

In spite of all her shame and indignation at what she knew was about to 
happen, Barbara began to work even harder to please the excited teenager 
with the fervent ministrations of her mouth. She tongued eagerly around the 
bloated head of his penis, tightening her lips hungrily around the spiraling 
shaft, scraping softly up and down with her teeth to elicit little gasps and 
cries of shock and pleasure-pain from his throat. She knew he wasn't going 
to be able to control himself much longer under these conditions, and now if 
he was going to cum she was ready for it. She longed for it in a way she 
didn't even understand, and her hunger and need only increased with just the 
thought of it actually erupting and spewing between her lips, of that 
life-giving male semen actually pouring into her mouth and down her throat. 

Then suddenly the muscles of Sonny's stomach stretched taut and he arched 
himself up violently from the couch, driving his young cock deeper and 
deeper into Barbara's throat as he still clung viciously to her ears. His 
body shuddered and spasmed. A low moan of triumph and delight welled like a 
growl in his throat. 

A moment later it began. His cock gave a series of violently swift jerks 
against her palate and her tongue, and his control slipped finally away, the 
dam bursting in an obscenely lustful torrent as the searing droplets of his 
cum squirted forth in a flood deep into her mouth. 

Barbara gagged as she felt his slick semen splattering against her throat, 
gurgling as his white-hot sperm came gushing out down her tongue. She 
clasped her lips in a tight elastic-like ring around his wildly lurching 
member, swirling her tongue faster and faster around his exploding young 
cock-head. In her masochistic delight she hastened the finger-fucking rhythm 
up between her own exposed and scissoring thighs, ramming her plundering 
digit deeper and deeper up the leg of her tight little shorts and into the 
burning opening of her cunt. And as she threw herself wholeheartedly into 
the task of sucking the youngster dry, the fluttering in her own loins 
suddenly spiraled to a crescendo. The quivering in her thighs became a 
spasm, the spasm became a brilliant white light as her whole writhing body 
seemed to explode in a clear white flash of lust. 

Drop after drop of Sonny's gushing semen rushed up from his cock and 
squirted down Barbara's throat. She basked in the sheer humiliation of it 
all, closing her mouth tightly in an effort not to lose a single drop. She 
gurgled and swallowed until her tautly stretched lips were filled to the 
brim and still the volley of his obscene liquid continued. And it seemed 
like an eternity before the hands holding her ears finally slipped away and 
his cock gave a final short squirt of his boiling salty fluid and started to 
go limp in her mouth. 

Then his deflated cock slipped from her lips and Sonny sagged back, panting 
to catch his breath as the dazed blonde raised up from over his loins. 

Barbara reached up with her free hand to wipe the remaining mixture of 
saliva and cum from her lips. Her other hand was still embedded between her 
thighs and suddenly she jerked her finger free from the leg band of her 
panties and shorts and pulled it away. Gradually the shame and humiliation 
and the possible terrible consequences of what she'd done swept over her. no 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

Barbara didn't know how she mustered the courage to show up for school on 
Monday. She couldn't bear the thought of looking Sonny in the eye, and 
though she'd made him promise he would never tell anybody what had happened 
between them, she was deathly afraid of what she would find when she did 
finally have to face him and his more worldly classmates. But by the time 
her initial class period was completed, she was sure from the lack of any 
change of attitude toward her on the part of Bobby and the other's that 
Sonny hadn't talked. As for Sonny himself, he sat in his front row seat, 
looking at her smugly though she consciously avoided meeting his gaze, even 
when he volunteered to make a comment on the material they were studying at 
that time. 

After class, the students shuffled out in their usual noisy manner. Bobby 
winked at her as he went out the door, eliciting a few guffaws from his 
companions. Dora Maples, a rather simple and plain but well meaning junior 
girl who worked hard at her studies, lingered to ask a couple of questions. 
Then, after she'd told the girl what she wanted to know, Sonny came back in 
from the hall, looking somewhat less smug and self-satisfied than he had 
when the class began. 

In spite of her nervousness and embarrassment, Barbara did everything she 
could to maintain her self-control and authoritative air as the young boy 
walked toward her desk, a nervous, hopeful smile on his face. 

"Sonny?" Barbara asked in a terse voice. "Is there something you want to 
know about what we discussed today? Or about your assignment for tomorrow?" 

Sonny frowned as though with incomprehension. "Naw, I understand all that. 
That's kid's stuff. But.. . " 

"But what Sonny?" Barbara asked, her arms folded across her breasts, her 
lovely face a cold hard mask. 

"But . . . you acted like you didn't even know me today. After . . . " 

His voice trailed off and Barbara finished the sentence for him. "After last 
night?" 

"Yeah." 

Barbara was doing everything she could to maintain her control over her own 
emotions, but she was sure that still none of her inner turmoil showed in 
her face. "Sonny. I told you that what happened last night was an accident. 
It won't happen again." 

"Accidents can happen twice," he ventured. 

"Yes. Some accidents. But not that." The self-composed young blonde took a 
deep breath. "Now Sonny, I don't want you staying after class to talk to me 
about that. I want you to forget it happened. And if you have any respect 
for me at all, the most you can do is just promise you'll never, never tell. 
I know you could blackmail me, but that wouldn't work either. If anyone but 
me or you ever even shows a sign of suspecting that, I will simply leave. Do 
you understand?" 

"I . . . guess so. But . . . can I come over again tonight?" 

"No you can't come over again tonight!" she snapped, her voice raising 
slightly. Then she repeated more softly: "No Sonny, you can't come there 
again. That's all there is to it. Now go. I have work to do." 

He came to her place again on Wednesday night. She had been living like a 
hermit the last two days. As soon as school was finished she would go to the 
grocery store for her food, then go home and enclose herself for the night, 
curtains drawn, doors and screens locked. Her work, those two nights, became 
her life; the television, her remorse and her lingering still unsated need. 
She lived in silent and lonely suffering, but it was a suffering and 
solitude she knew she deserved. She felt cut off, not just from the school 
but from the whole human race, like a leper. 

Barbara was just finishing a minute steak and a plate of scrambled eggs when 
she heard the knock on the door, which that evening she recognized 
immediately as Sonny's. Her first thought was not to answer it, but she 
rejected that immediately, deciding instead that she would strive for one 
last confrontation with the youngster with whom she'd acted so lasciviously 
during her moment of weakness. But just for good measure she left the screen 
latched and talked to him through it, explaining as calmly as she could that 
it was just because she did like him that she couldn't let him in the house. 
Then she hit the clincher: "What would your grandmother think if she knew 
what you did to me the other night?" 

Sonny's eyes widened with fear at the very thought and through the screen 
Barbara saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "God, she would just die. 
Or kill me, I don't know which." 

"And that is why I can't see you here anymore. There are never secrets in a 
small town like this. And if you won't keep mine, I can't keep yours." 

After a bit of further, but weaker protest and pleading, Sonny left. Barbara 
walked, her shoulders shaking with sobs, back down the hall to the living 
room and the TV set that had become her only companion. 

On Friday night the football season opened. The temperature had cooled 
slightly and the sexy blonde English teacher, happy for a chance to get out 
of her house without having to worry about confronting Sonny, who of course 
had his duties on the sidelines and playing field, was comfortable in a 
light sweater and ankle length sheath skirt that somehow made her feel 
slightly less vulnerable to the stares and catcalls of a group of drunken 
loggers sitting several tiers below her. 

Halfback Danny Morrow took Winders Falls' opening kickoff and returned it to 
the defense's twenty-yard line. Three plays later Bobby Lane hit Darrel 
Clayton, the gangly right end for Hatfieldville, with a looping pass for the 
first touchdown. After that it was downhill for Winders Falls. By halftime 
the Four Horsemen of Hatfieldville had racked up a touchdown apiece, in 
addition to the original pass. During the second half Coach Johnson pulled 
out his stars to give the second string some experience, but even they were 
a match for the weaker team from the north. 

Barbara left the game feeling that she had genuinely enjoyed herself just by 
being out, even if for most of the contest she'd had very little idea what 
was going on. As she was leaving the field Sally Morehead, who taught 
history, caught up to her and reminded her to be sure not to miss the 
victory dance at the gymnasium on Saturday night. She quelled Barbara's 
protest that she hadn't planned on going to the dance by informing her it 
was at least unofficially required of all faculty members. It was supposed 
to be a show of school spirit. If there'd been any doubt of that in her mind 
Coach Johnson erased it the next afternoon with a phone call reminding her 
she was expected to attend. 

The faculty members had gathered, at the coach's invitation, in his office 
before the dance. Everyone was there but Sally Morehead, who'd been 
relegated to the task of watching over the arrival of the students to the 
gymnasium and seeing that things didn't get out of hand before the rest of 
the teachers arrived. At first Barbara had assumed that the gathering was 
special, that they had been called together there for some specific purpose. 
But as the coach began a rambling speech about how glad he was to have 
everyone back for another school year, how glad he was Barbara had joined 
their staff, how pleased he was with the way the year had begun, she begun 
to feel he'd decided to take a few minutes off to function as 
superintendent. That illusion was shattered immediately when he closed the 
introductory paragraph of his speech by saying how proud he was and how 
proud he was sure they all were of the team's performance the season's 
opening game. 

Then the coach proceeded to discuss school spirit, sportsmanship and the 
value of competition sports to prepare students for the competition of life. 
Barbara thought she was on the verge of passing out from sheer boredom when 
the coach suddenly and to her complete surprise produced a bottle of bourbon 
and a case full of brandy snifters, kept in the cupboard beneath one of the 
trophy cases, and poured drinks all around. It was the first taste of 
alcohol Barbara had taken since her last night with Greg and as they drank 
the first of a series of toasts, this one to the team's victory, she felt an 
almost immediate lightening effect. 

Coach Johnson continued to pour and the nine teachers continued to drink 
their toasts and soon the little gathering had reached a mood of real 
gaiety. But even though her head was almost spinning from what she'd drunk, 
Barbara couldn't help feeling that Burt Johnson was acting hardly different 
than he must have acted twenty-five years ago when as a high school boy he'd 
probably first raided his father's liquor cabinet and shared the spoils with 
his friends. He was enjoying the attention he received as dispenser of the 
drinks, and he was using it as a means of exerting his power over the 
others. By pouring the drinks, he paced their consumption, and once or twice 
Barbara, an empty glass before her, got the feeling he relished his ability 
to keep her waiting. But she was relaxed, almost enjoying herself, and she 
felt less like an outsider as far as the other faculty members were 
concerned than she had since she'd come here. She was almost disappointed 
when, though there still remained a little bourbon in the bottle, Coach 
Johnson consulted his watch and announced that it was time for the dance to 
begin and that they should all begetting over to the gymnasium. 

The coach put the bottle and the glasses away and they filed out of the main 
school building, down the arcade and along the sidewalk beside the 
auditorium to the lighted gym. At first Barbara walked alone in the group, 
then he moved up and walked just beside her. 

"I hope you enjoyed our little party?" he asked. 

"Yes, very much," said Barbara with a polite smile. 

"And the refreshments . . . " He paused. "I thought you looked surprised. 
Maybe you found it out of character after everything else you've seen since 
we met." 

"Perhaps I was a.. . little surprised," Barbara ventured cautiously. 

"Yes, the Sunday school teacher-superintendent-coach who serves whiskey to 
his faculty in his office on Saturday night." The coach laughed as though 
proud of himself. "I'm not as simple and one-track minded as I appear. I 
believe there are a number of things a person can enjoy doing in this life. 
Some of them are best done moderately. Like drinking. Perhaps dancing falls 
into that category too. But I sure hope I can have one with you tonight." 

Barbara looked sharply at the coach, wondering if she hadn't misjudged him 
even more than she'd thought. This time when she smiled her smile was 
genuine, and the only thing troubling her was the lingering knowledge in the 
back of her mind that if he knew the truth about what she had done with 
Sonny Wilkens last Sunday night instead of talking nicely to her like this 
he would be organizing a lynch mob to have her run out of town. "Yes," she 
said after a moment. "I'd be very happy to dance with you, Coach." 

The gymnasium was softly but by no means dimly lit. Along one side of the 
basketball court a long table was laid out with hors d'oeuvres and two large 
bowls of punch. Rock-and-roll music was blaring on a record player over a 
general buzz of conversation. Several couples were dancing in the center of 
the floor and off in one corner two girls were practicing a dance-step 
together while a third rather plain-looking girl looked on, but the great 
bulk of the student body was just standing around talking and waiting. It 
became evident, when the faculty entered, that what they'd primarily been 
waiting for was Coach Johnson himself. The music and the dancing and even 
the chatter suddenly stopped. Bobby Lane led a resounding round of applause, 
which the coach acknowledged like a smiling falsely modest politician. He 
then made a speech quite similar to the speech he'd made a short while 
earlier in his office. Then the music and dancing resumed. 

Still conscious of the effects of the alcohol she'd imbibed, Barbara went to 
the punch bowl and filled her glass, then milled around among the students 
and faculty. Several very hard rock songs played, than a ballad began and 
the coach came to claim his dance. Aware that a considerable amount of 
attention was being focused on her, the supple young blonde let the coach 
take her lightly in his arms. Though he was slightly awkward on the dance 
floor she followed him easily enough. It seemed that his dancing was 
supposed to be meant as an example rather than a means of entertaining 
himself or her. He held his body just away from Barbara's his face almost 
but not quite touched her cheek, and he still took her left hand in his own 
rather than wrapping both his hands around her body, as couples in Barbara's 
younger age group were prone to do. 

Then their dance ended. The coach stepped back and gave a slight bow and 
thanked her. There was more brief hand-clapping from some of the students 
standing around, including, Barbara noted, most of the starting line-up of 
the football team. She saw Bobby smiling at her, again leading the applause 
which she knew was for the coach rather than herself, yet now she smiled 
warmly back at him, remarking to herself that in spite of his less than 
exemplary behavior in class she did have to admit that he was going to be a 
very handsome young man. Then Barbara was distracted by a tug at her wrist 
and as she turned she found Sonny looking up at her face. 

"Miss Wilkens? Can I have the next dance please." 

For a moment Barbara almost lost her composure. The coach was still standing 
just beside her, virtually the whole student body was looking on, and here 
was this young boy who in a momentary fit of delirium she'd performed an 
illicit and unspeakable sex act with, asking her to dance. Then, managing to 
stifle the gasp that had almost risen in her throat, she forced a smile to 
her lips and shook her head. 

"No thanks, Sonny. That's kind of you to ask but I really don't think it 
would be proper for us to dance. Why don't you go find one of the girls and 
. . . " 

"Bull!" the coach's voice cut in. "There's nothing improper about you 
dancing with 

Sonny, or with any of the players either." He grinned as Barbara looked at 
him again with surprise. "Heck, it's not like you're old enough to be their 
mother or something. And I bet you're young enough you can really dance to 
this stuff they play. Go on, give her a whirl Sonny Boy." 

Before Barbara could offer further protest the coach gave her a slight shove 
on the small of her back and she was almost pushed into the youngster's 
eager arms. He wrapped his hands tightly around her back, hugging his body 
warm against her, and as he started to awkwardly guide her across the floor 
Barbara felt compelled to push his small trembling body back to a 
respectable distance away from her won, soliciting a raucous burst of 
laughter from Bobby and his bunch. Then, as soon as that dance ended and 
another faster song began, Barbara felt another strange hand take hers from 
behind. She turned to find Bobby looking at her with a friendly confident 
smile. She smiled back, shrugged, and began to undulate and gyrate her body 
in a sensuous teasing rhythm to the music as Bobby danced for all the world 
like a British rock star before her. Only out of the corner of her eye did 
Barbara notice Sonny moving disconsolately away, almost slinking. 

From then on the night went almost too fast. Barbara danced with one boy 
after another. At the encouragement of both the faculty and the students, 
she really let herself go, showing even the pep squad girls some things they 
didn't know about modern dance. But though she shared herself freely, 
dancing with anyone who asked, it was Bobby whom she found as her most 
frequent and most compatible partner, and gradually her original opinion of 
him changed from down-right dislike and mistrust to a liking and sense of 
real rapport with him. 

On several occasions Barbara's eyes would meet Sonny's. He was watching her 
continuously, and obviously sulking. She tried to smile at him and he merely 
scowled, then, still feeling loose from the bourbon she'd drunk in Coach 
Johnson's office, she returned her attention to her dancing. She went 
through several more partners and again found herself with Bobby. Out of the 
corner of her eye she saw Sonny's face redden bitterly. Then a new song 
began, a slow ballad. Bobby took her in his arms, pulling her body gently to 
his own. For a few brief moments Barbara forgot herself completely. She lay 
her cheek softly against his shoulder, her arms wrapping around his back, 
her breasts snuggled warmly against his chest. She felt, in that brief span 
of time, as if she had come back home, as if all the strangeness and the 
barriers between her and the world around her had fallen, and she was again 
at one with her surroundings. She was in the arms of a man, even if he was 
only sixteen years old, and her body was responding naturally and without 
inhibition to the warm and secure embrace. 

Then for some reason she opened her eyes and found herself staring straight 
into the wounded eyes of Sonny Wilkins. He was glaring back at her with a 
look of hatred and resentment the likes of which she'd rarely ever seen, and 
never on a face so young. She seemed trapped, fixed in his gaze. Then Bobby 
started to turn her on the dance floor, and as she followed his lead she saw 
Sonny pivot and start away toward the front entrance of the gym. He looked 
back at her once, his eyes menacing. Then he was gone out the door. 

Bobby was still holding her firmly in his strong young arms. His body 
brushed hers smoothly, seemingly without conscious effort on his part. But 
the trembling that suddenly possessed her supple young body derived more 
from nervousness or outright fear than the excitement building smoothly 
through her loins and breasts. The look on Sonny's face lingered hauntingly 
in her mind, and her realization of the delicate situation she was in 
gripped her like an icy hand. Sonny was possessed of information that, if 
exposed, could place her in the most serious predicament she'd ever been in 
in her life. Her teaching career would be ruined and she might even find 
herself subject to criminal prosecution. She had just rejected and 
humiliated him, and suddenly she feared that in spite of the difficulties 
telling on her would pose for him, he might be just angry and bitter enough 
to want to expose her at all cost. She realized that after what she'd done 
to him the previous Sunday night, he probably couldn't imagine that her 
dancing with Bobby and the rest of the football team was just innocent fun. 

Barbara let the young quarterback guide her several more steps across the 
floor. Then she stopped, gently disengaging herself from his arms. 

"I.. . I want to step out and get a breath of fresh air," Barbara stammered 
as the handsome youngster studied her sultry, now worried face. "W-wait 
here. I'll be right back." 

She bit her lip nervously, then pushed past him and made her way across the 
gymnasium through the dancing couples to the door, where science teacher 
Edmond Talbert was enjoying a cigarette. 

"Just getting some fresh air," Barbara explained as she brushed past him. 
She hurried along the sidewalk that flanked the auditorium, crossed through 
the arcade and emerged onto the mall before the front of the building. After 
a moment she spotted Sonny's shadowy figure, walking quickly across the lawn 
toward the corner of the campus. "Sonny!" she called, starting hurriedly 
down the mall. He glanced back, then continued. She stumbled after him and 
called his name again just as he reached the sidewalk that bounded the 
school's front lawn. Now he stopped, standing almost in front of Bobby's 
blue pick-up. He waited, looking back at her. Then when she was halfway 
across the lawn he turned suddenly and continued along the sidewalk. "Sonny, 
Sonny, wait!" she called at the top of her lungs. She followed, 
half-walking, half at a run. She reached the sidewalk and started down it 
just as Sonny was crossing the street at the corner. He stopped again and 
looked back, then continued. And Barbara walked several more paces before 
she stopped suddenly. 

She was standing directly in front of Bobby's pick-up parked against the 
curb. Next to it was the new Chevrolet Darrel Clayton's father, who owned 
the local sawmill, had bought him for his eighteenth birthday. Music was 
blaring from the tape-deck in the vehicle, loud in spite of the fact that 
the windows were rolled up. But that wasn't what had attracted the troubled 
young blonde's attention. 

A single bare leg, a girl's leg, was sticking up from the backseat of the 
car, the bare foot planted against the rear window. The sight was somehow so 
incongruous that for a moment Barbara couldn't take her eyes off it. She 
imagined, absurdly, that the owner of that sensuous lovely brown thigh had 
gotten into the car bottom side upwards, and she stared through narrowed 
eyes at the gently jerking of the bare, tapered limb. Then slowly she 
stepped down off the sidewalk, moving up alongside the car. And as she 
peered through the window into the backseat the sight that greeted her 
almost caused the shocked young blonde to pass out on her feet. 

The leg belonged to head-cheerleader Sandy Black, who was generally 
considered to be one of the best looking girls in the school. Up until 
recently, she'd been dating Bobby, though she was a senior and he was only a 
junior. But now it looked like she'd given up Bobby for good. She lay on her 
back in the rear-seat of the car, the one leg planted up over the top of the 
seat, her other leg sprawled on the floor-board. Her skirt was bunched up 
about her waist and her panties were nowhere to be seen. Kneeling on the 
seat, bent over between her wide-parted thighs, was the young owner of the 
automobile. And the act he was performing was the vilest spectacle the young 
teacher had ever beheld in her life. 

Darrel's face was buried flush against the brunette cheerleader's exposed 
and defenseless loins. Her hands were entwined in his hair and she was 
holding his face to her cunt as if she would like to swallow him up. But 
Darrel hardly seemed to be resisting. He was going after her naked little 
vagina like it was a plate of strawberry shortcake. He was eating her pussy, 
sucking and tonguing it with a subservience and effort that almost defied 
belief. 

Aghast, Barbara stared through the window, the horribly swinish scene 
momentarily blotting all else from her mind. It was awful. The depravity of 
it was beyond comprehension, and yet the girl lying on her back in the car 
seemed to be enjoying it like nothing else in the world. Her whole body was 
squirming and writhing like a sex-crazed heathen, her face contorted with 
lust, her head flailing from side to side on the seat of the car. 

Her whole body trembling in vicarious physical identification with the girl 
being orally ravished in the automobile, it took all Barbara's strength for 
her to jerk her eyes away from the compelling and lascivious spectacle. Then 
she noticed that Sonny had stopped again on the other side of the street 
that bounded the side of the campus. She was about to make a move to go 
after him when the song on the tape-deck ended and the hard-driving rock 
music was suddenly replaced by a cat-like wailing, the words of which became 
only gradually intelligible to her ears: 

"Oh eat me, Darrel! Eat my cunt. Deeper! Tongue it deeper!" 

She stared back through the window of the car, an unwanted flutter coursing 
through her loins at the thought of what Darrel was doing to the girl. God, 
it was worse than what she had done to Sonny the other day. There seemed now 
to Barbara in her muddled mental state something as perversely unnatural for 
a man to be licking and sucking a woman down there as it was naturally 
perverse for a woman to suck off a man. She couldn't even work it out in her 
mind, but it was just too depraved and, completely forgetting her lost 
evening with Greg, she thought she would die of the sheer shame of it all if 
she were ever subjected to such a thing herself. But with all her revulsion 
she was nonetheless entranced and again she had to fight to jerk her eyes 
away toward the corner where Sonny, just at that moment, was turning 
slump-shouldered away from her and starting on off down the street. 

Then she heard the faint crackle of footsteps in the gravel behind her. Over 
her shoulder she saw that Bobby had just stepped off the curb. And before 
she could even turn to face him he was upon her, his hands going around her 
waist to pull her back against him, the tell-tale hard bulge in his trousers 
pushing right up between her buttocks. 

"Oh suck it, suck it!" Sandy Black chanted banshee-like in the car. Down the 
street Barbara could' still see Sonny, walking swiftly away though he was 
looking back over his shoulder at her and Bobby. And behind her Bobby's 
pelvis was pressed hard against the cheeks of her ass. His strong arms were 
still tight around her, his hands now moving up to cup tightly over the 
rounded swells of her breasts. And the warmth of his breath on the sensitive 
back of her neck was causing undeniable little chills to dart relentlessly 
down her spine. And though she struggled silently, she couldn't get away, 
and again in spite of herself she let her eyes drift back to the shocking 
scene taking place in the back of the car. 

"Oh please Bobby," Barbara whispered under her breath, her hands coming up 
to seize and tug at his wrists. "Let me go. Let me go before they see us." 

"Before they see us?" Bobby chuckled into her ear. "Why shouldn't they. We 
can see them." 

"But.. . " Barbara turned her head to look pleadingly over her shoulder, and 
the moment she did the handsome, mature-looking youngster pressed his lips 
hard over hers, his tongue forcing its way deep into her mouth in spite of 
all her efforts to resist. At the same time he was beginning a gentle 
movement of his buttocks against her hips, working the hard shaft of his 
cock tenting up like a pole in his trousers rhythmically against the crack 
between the tight-clenched cheeks of her ass. 

Then almost violently she jerked her head back around, and now she was even 
more appalled at what she saw in the car. While Bobby had kissed her Darrel 
Clayton had shifted around in the car seat, straddling now at 
reverse-directions over the half-naked girl beneath him. Now his enormous 
cock was protruding lewdly free from the crotch of his trousers, poised 
right over the excited young cheerleader's lustfully ovaled lips. She was 
holding his turgid cock in her hand, bending it down so that it pointed 
right at her face even as Darrel continued his licking and sucking up 
between her scissoring thighs. And as Barbara gasped in disbelief, the girl 
lifted her head willingly off the car seat to take the thickly distended 
penis right into the open hollow of her mouth. 

"Ooooh," Barbara groaned as Bobby's hands continued to maul over the lush 
young swells of her breasts, the friction of her brassiere-cups rubbing back 
and forth over her nipples causing little tremors of unwanted delight to 
course maddeningly out over her flesh. "Let me go. Let's both go . . . back 
inside." 

"We got plenty of time," Bobby said. "And they're just getting started too." 

He kissed her on the back of her neck, then he bit her, so hard it was 
everything she could do to keep from screaming aloud. And letting that serve 
as a distraction, he dropped one of his hands down from her breasts to seize 
the hem of her skirt, tugging it up her thighs almost to the tight leg-bands 
of her panties before his hand covered suddenly full over the lust-heated 
plane of her thinly haired little cunt. 

A ravishing shock of delight rippled along Barbara's thighs as the 
youngster's loins ground again hard against her buttocks, now naked except 
for her flimsy little panties. She was still struggling with all her might 
and yet she felt powerless in his strong grasp and in spite of herself 
almost thankful for her inability to resist. Then she shuddered as she felt 
him slip one of his fingers slowly between her thighs from the front, 
pulling aside the tight elastic crotch band that was the only thing left to 
protect her already lustfully heated little cunt. 

"Oh please," Barbara whimpered, squirming her buttocks back in retreat from 
the finger prodding up between her thighs, searching through the sparse 
moist hairs that lined her burning little vaginal lips. Then an even more 
violent shudder racked her body as Bobby's probing finger made sudden 
delicious contact with the throbbing nub of her clitoris. He stroked the 
tiny bud to fully pulsing rigidity even as the near-panicked blonde school 
teacher continued to struggle to free herself from his grasp. Then her legs 
almost collapsed beneath her as Bobby fingered back down along her 
hair-lined cunt lips, parting the warm moist folds of her flesh, and he 
inserted his plundering finger straight up into her warm little pussy. 

Barbara sucked her breath in hoarsely, trying to hold back the groan of 
pleasure building in her breast. There was nothing she could do to escape 
and tears of shame spilled from her eyes as she found herself reacting 
involuntarily to the teasing caress of her vagina. For a moment she did let 
her body go completely limp in Bobby's arms. Then, thinking she'd 
surrendered to him completely, the athletic young boy relaxed his own grip 
on her trembling form. 

Considered in the light of what was to happen later, Barbara's sudden 
decisive effort at defense can only be to her credit. In spite of her 
lust-inspired state of delirium the moaning blonde saw her chance and almost 
reflexively she seized the wrist of the hand wedged between her thighs, 
shoving it downward so Bobby's middle finger slipped with a sucking pop from 
her moistly heated little cunt. 

And before Bobby could move to regain his hold on her she was free, running 
as fast as she could away down the sidewalk. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Almost blind with shame and inner rage at what had occurred, Barbara 
stumbled along, the sidewalk in the dark of the night. After she'd run 
nearly two full blocks she looked back over her shoulder and was surprised 
to see that she wasn't being chased. Then, panting to catch her breath, she 
slowed to a walk. Her mind was a jumble of confused and conflicting images 
and she didn't know when she'd felt so helpless in her life. She couldn't 
rid herself of the vision of those two teenagers she'd watched as they 
performed simultaneous fellatio and cunnilingus in the back of the car. Her 
flesh still tingled from the feel of Bobby's hands mauling over her tender 
flesh, and the wetness up between her thighs from forcible invasion of his 
finger into her helpless loins reminded her of the shameless way her 
treacherous body had responded. And all the time lingering in the back of 
her mind was the guilt and horror and anxiety that had first driven her to 
leave the gym and go after Sonny. She knew he must have run from her only 
because he'd seen that Bobby was following her, and she knew that after the 
way she'd hurt him tonight there was not a way in the world she could be 
sure that he would keep their secret to himself. 

Barbara continued hurriedly to the corner of Main Street. She crossed it 
hurriedly, aware of several catcalls from the doorway of one of the bars, 
then descended on toward the refuge of her duplex. She was just two blocks 
from home when she heard the pick-up engine and the sound of tires squealing 
as the vehicle rounded the corner behind her. Framed in the bright 
headlights, Barbara turned and stared like a wild animal frozen in 
headlights on a road as Bobby's Ford pick-up hurtled toward her. Then the 
vehicle came to a halt beside her on the street and she noted with slight 
surprise that its owner was alone. As she stood still, staring through the 
window on the passenger side, the handsome youngster leaned over and opened 
the door. 

"Get in Miss Halperin. I'll take you for a ride." 

"No," Barbara said in a voice that sounded strange and from far away. But 
she made no move to flee. She stood, paralyzed by everything that had 
happened to her, fear almost stifling her breath, the lust Bobby's lewd 
mauling of her flesh and the obscene spectacle she'd just witnessed had 
instilled in her still raging completely out of control through her 
passion-soaked loins. 

"Come on. I'm not going to hurt you. And I want to talk to you." 

"What. . . about?" 

Bobby hesitated for a moment, the beginnings of a smile playing on his lips 
before he said: "Sonny." 

"Sonny?" Barbara thought the fear in her voice should have only confirmed 
any suspicion the boy might already have had about her and Sonny Wilkens. 
She stared in terror at his handsome, confident face, then like a 
sacrificial slave walking to slaughter she stepped forward and climbed up 
into the cab of the truck. Bobby leaned over toward her and put the vehicle 
in gear, then eased off the clutch and it lurched forward. 

Stiff and breathless, Barbara sat silent as he drove down the street past 
her house, then took a left onto a gravel road which led out of town and 
into a now dark and dense-looking forest of second growth redwoods. The 
terrain was rough, hilly, the road narrow and winding, and Bobby took the 
corners fast but with a skill and obvious familiarity which made it seem he 
was running almost on a track. They rode for perhaps five minutes before 
either of them said anything, then at last Barbara broke the silence: 

"If Coach Johnson misses us both at the same time . . . " 

"Yeah? What?" 

"He's going to suspect something." 

Bobby grinned. She saw it in the lights of the dash. "Why would he suspect 
anything? And what?" 

Barbara realized the indiscretion of her remark. "I mean.. . after what 
happened last year, with that other teacher. And then tonight, you and I 
were . . . even if it was an accident.. . " 

"Yeah," Bobby chuckled. "That was just an accident, hunh?" 

Barbara didn't bother to answer. They drove another short distance in 
silence, then 

Bobby said: "Sonny has the hots for you." 

"What?" Barbara gasped, incredulous at the bluntly shocking remark. 

"You saw him. He's really got it bad. I think you could help him!" 

"Help him?" the frightened blonde ventured cautiously, realizing for the 
first time that perhaps Bobby didn't suspect anything untoward had actually 
happened between her and the youngster they were discussing. 

"Old Miss Priddy tried but she couldn't do any good. But you're different. 
He really digs you. See? Sonny's sensitive. He couldn't do it with just any 
girl, but I saw the way he was looking at you. And he really does need 
help." 

"Help with what?" 

"Don't play dumb? He needs a woman to break him in and show him the score. 
You could do it." 

"Why . . . " For a moment Barbara thought she'd almost lost her voice from 
her sheer indignation at what Bobby was suggesting. "If you think I'm the 
kind of woman who would . . . who would seduce an innocent boy like Sonny," 
she began, realizing immediately the hypocrisy in what she said. 

"Come on, Miss Halperin. Don't go virginal on me, I'm the guy who was back 
there feeling you up while you were window peeping on 

Darrel and Sandy in the car. Remember?" 

"Why you little heathen!" Barbara hissed, her shame and anger almost getting 
the best of her. 

Then they crossed a small rise, rounded a corner, and suddenly beside the 
road appeared a small open plot of land. Bobby swung onto the flat parking 
area and cut the engine, turning quickly in the seat to face the lovely, now 
completely rattled young blonde. 

His eyes roved over her soft sensuously curved body, hungrily taking in her 
lushly inviting breasts, slender waist, her long shapely thighs outlined in 
her skirt falling teasingly down between them. Then he abruptly opened the 
door on his side and climbed out of the cab. 

Stunned beyond capacity to cope with the bizarre situation in which she 
found herself, Barbara looked back through the rear windshield as Bobby 
moved around to the bed of the pick-up. She blinked as she saw him remove a 
tightly rolled sleeping bag, then continue on around the truck to her side. 
And her heartbeat frantically hastened as she saw him unroll the bag and 
spread it out on the dirt. Then before she'd completely grasped what was 
about to happen, he opened the door on her side and pulled her forcibly out 
of the cab. 

Barbara's legs felt weak as rubber and the whole world seemed to be spinning 
in some kind of crazy spiral as she let herself be pushed suddenly and 
almost violently down onto the bag. She went without resistance, mortified 
by combined fear and shame and an unwanted excitement stirring anew up 
between her thighs. She lay sprawled on her side on the soft downy pallet, 
her skirt pulled halfway up her thighs, her hair hanging loose and wanton 
over her cheeks and shoulders almost to her heaving breasts. Her eyes were 
wide, like the eyes of a frightened animal, and her breathing was coming in 
loud audible gasps as she waited to see what the aggressive and athletic 
youngster would do next Then she moaned deeply as he came down slowly onto 
his knees beside her, reaching with both his hands to turn her face up 
toward his own. 

Bobby stared with relish into Barbara's frightened eyes for a brief 
exquisite moment. Then suddenly he bent over and kissed her full on the 
lips, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth as she let her body again go 
almost limp, accepting his kiss and hoping only that her body wouldn't 
betray her with response. 

The experienced sixteen year old waited until he sensed the school teacher 
starting to give in, then he dropped his hand down to the hem of her skirt, 
pulling it slowly up her thighs until it was again almost to the leg-bands 
of her panties. At first she offered no resistance whatsoever, then as he 
reached his hand between her thighs, stroking up along one of the taut inner 
tendons toward the desire-moistened plane of her cunt, something seemed to 
snap. Her body stiffened, her hands were suddenly fighting to push him away 
from her and to yank down her skirt. She drew her face back from his with an 
angry shake of her head, kicking and pitching as though in a fit upon the 
ground. 

"Leave me alone!" she hissed. "Take me home right now, you little juvenile 
delinquent. Who do you think I am anyway?" 

Barbara continued to kick and thrash on the sleeping bag for a couple of 
seconds longer. Then suddenly Bobby seized both her wrists, pulling her down 
to a prone position on her back and pinning them above her head, the weight 
of his strong young body coming down heavily on hers so that she could 
hardly even move. At last, realizing she could never overpower him when he 
was on top of her holding her like this, she let her head fall back to the 
softness of the bag. She sighed and lay still, panting and looking up 
wild-eyed at the boy on top of her. 

Bobby leaned again toward Barbara's face. 

He grinned, then said softly: "I'm about to show you exactly who you are. 
All right?" 

"Noooooo," Barbara moaned as she realized the double meaning of the remark. 
She didn't need this teenager to tell her who she was. She knew already, 
even if the entity she had become the last few weeks still didn't have a 
name in her mind. But she knew she was vile, evil, shameful and immoral, and 
she'd learned all too well that only a certain amount of force was required 
to bring those despicable qualities to blossom. 

Her arms still pinned helplessly above her head by the vise-grip of one of 
Bobby's hands, Barbara shook her head from side to side in useless protest 
as the athletic youngster's other hand moved back down to cup over the 
high-arched mounds of her breasts. Then her eyes opened even wider as his 
hand swept quickly lower, seizing the hem of her skirt and jerking it 
suddenly completely up off her lushly molded buttocks, bunching it uselessly 
up around her waist like the skirt of the young girl she'd watched the other 
boy eat out in the back seat of his car a short time ago. Then Bobby's hand 
grasped the waistband of her panties and as she again began to buck and 
struggle beneath him he pulled them down off her buttocks, completely 
exposing the golden triangle of the hair of her cunt. 

"No please!" Barbara whimpered, straining to free her pinioned arms with all 
her strength. She felt her panties stretched by her thighs, held far apart 
by the position of Bobby's knees between them. Then suddenly the young boy 
gave another violent jerk and the silken little garment tore with a loud 
ripping sound, leaving her completely naked below the waist, still as 
helplessly pinned down as if she'd been strapped to a torturer's rack. 

Barbara's entire half-naked body was tightened with fear and lust as Bobby 
Lane arched his body up slightly and gazed down at he naked belly and 
defenseless loins. She felt completely stretched apart by the wide-set 
position of his knees. There was nothing she could do to defend herself and 
she knew she was going to really be raped this time, not just a kind of half 
make-belief game she'd played with Greg the time before. And yet in spite of 
all her horror and indignation, she derived a certain secret enjoyment from 
her knowledge that she couldn't get away if she tried, and she was unable to 
quell a low moan of masochistic anticipation as Bobby reached down to 
unbuckle and unzip his Levi's, jerking them almost violently down off his 
hips so that the full man-sized erection of his already rock-hard penis 
sprang suddenly to freedom. 

He took his thick cock in his hand, stroking the foreskin up and down 
several times over the purplish swollen cock-head in an intentionally vulgar 
gesture. 

"No, please don't do it," Barbara whimpered as much out of duty to her own 
self-respect as anything else. Her sheer helplessness was exciting her 
beyond anything she'd ever known in her life and her pussy juices were 
flowing freely in anticipation of the initial contact of this rock-hard 
shaft of cock-flesh poised just inches away from her defenselessly quivering 
vaginal lips. 

Then without further hesitation Bobby used his knees to spread her thighs 
out even farther on the sleeping bag, at the same time levering up onto her 
body to guide the pulsing head of his cock straight up into the soft 
hair-lined furrow of the entrance of her cunt. For a moment he held his 
menacing cock poised there, the sheer masculine fury that seemed to emit 
from his hot rod of flesh causing Barbara's whole body to shudder from the 
inherent threat of pain and promise of incomparable joy. 

Then he took a deep breath and rammed forward. 

"Aaggghhhhh!" the pinioned blonde cried out from the increase of pressure. 
She squirmed her buttocks fearfully down into the softness of the bag in 
retreat, but the excited teenager showed her no mercy, thrusting again and 
again until the knob-like head of his throbbing cock was wedged right 
between the burning lips of her cunt, and his prodigious instrument began to 
worm itself slowly up inside her warmly spasming vagina. His thick male 
cudgel pushed the soft inner tissues aside like flimsy veils, skewering 
relentlessly deeper and deeper until with a sudden lurch, Barbara felt it 
slam against her cervix and the boy's sperm-swollen balls slapped heavily 
down into the wide-stretched crack of her ass. 

"Ooh! Aaaaahhhhh!" she cried out, realizing the initial penetration was 
finally completed. She had only once in her life taken a man's penis inside 
her pussy, and the little orifice was still virginally tight, the warm walls 
of her secret flesh closing like a glove around his flexing cock so that she 
could feel every ridge and ripple of it. And though it did not hurt nearly 
as much now as it had the first time, the pain was an ever compelling 
presence, tempering, balancing, or even augmenting the little flutters of 
compensatory pleasure that darted out through her loins as Bobby began 
quickly to move. 

"Oh easy!" Barbara gasped, her body again going limp as she felt his rigid 
male hardness start to piston rhythmically in and out of her still 
unaccustomed vaginal opening. But the worst of the pain was past now and her 
legs had begun a gentle spontaneous scissoring open and closed around the 
teenager's impaling shaft of flesh. Her body was beginning to come to life. 
She'd completely ceased to struggle or resist and though she knew what she 
was doing could only lead to her damnation, she could no longer help 
herself. She was being fucked. She was being fucked again, and that, she now 
realized, was exactly what she'd been waiting for ever since that first 
night Greg had taken her. 

Lewd flames of desire were coursing through Barbara's veins as she began a 
slow undulating movement of her buttocks on the sleeping bag. She became 
aware belatedly that Bobby had released his grip on her wrists, and she felt 
his hands moving down beneath her body to clasp her nakedly rounded 
ass-cheeks, guiding her movements as he quickened the tempo of his own now 
violently racking thrusts. Mewls of animalistic acceptance issued in 
torrents from her lips and her lovely face contorted with passion as again 
the young boy dropped his lips to hers, kissing her brutally on the mouth, 
his tongue searching inside her mouth as though it would reach all the way 
to her throat. 

"Oh yes, God, yes Bobby. Fuck me! Fuck me!" Barbara pleaded in unrestrained 
submission as the boy again raised his head up to look down and observe the 
final surrender mirrored in her face. One of his hands reached up between 
her thighs from behind to fondle at the soft hair-lined lips of her cunt 
milking hungrily at his rampaging cock. Her vagina was flowering open, the 
soft inner walls clasping and spasming with glove-like insistence as though 
she wanted to swallow his plunging cock all the way to her stomach. 

Then suddenly Bobby quickened the tempo of his shattering lunges, racking 
her body with the intensity of his skewering thrusts. He slipped his hands 
down behind her knees, lifting up to jackknife them almost to her shoulders 
so that the naked plane of her vagina was wide open to the pile-driving 
thrusts of his rigid cock deep up into her quivering inner cunt. 

"Oh! Ooooooh," Barbara wailed beneath him. He was pounding her mercilessly 
with his body, his hands searching and tearing hungrily at her softly 
perspiring flesh, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of her shoulders 
and the tingling nipples of her breasts as he moved into a staccato rhythm 
that almost caused her mind to go blank. She panted and writhed as his cock 
continued to skewer into her like a ravaging animal, hurting her even with 
all the pleasure it gave, causing her skin to tingle from the tips of her 
toes to the top of her flailing head. It was like a dream, a heavenly 
nightmare. It was something she'd never known in her life, this mind 
blurring ecstasy washing in waves out from her ravished loins. Then, in a 
brief moment of delirious illumination, she realized what it was that was 
actually taking place. 

She was cumming. She was deriving an orgasm from this cruel and brutal rape 
of her supple young flesh, and as she continued to jerk and buck against the 
savagely fucking teenager she felt his cock grow huge and began suddenly to 
pump his hot thick sperm far up into her quivering belly. The great searing 
droplets splattered into her in a seemingly endless torrent, mixing with the 
fluids of her own freely flowing orgasm deep inside her as the surreal 
sensations continued to course maddeningly over her flesh. 

Then at last her legs went limp, twitching convulsively as she lay them back 
down to the sleeping bag. Her heart was still pounding frenziedly and for 
the first few moments she hardly even knew where she was. She lay moaning in 
an ecstasy of satisfaction, her whole body still jerking in gentle little 
spasms. 

Then Bobby withdrew his now flaccid penis, and she suddenly opened her eyes, 
tears filling them as she realized the seriousness of what had just 
happened. 

He had raped her, really raped her, but she had loved it.. . she had loved 
every minute of it! 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Barbara slept fitfully that night, drifting in and out of erotic dreams and 
nightmares. She woke Sunday morning, remembering with a sudden surge of 
anxiety and remorse the wonderful terrible events of the night before. And 
she knew she was lost. It had happened and it could not be erased, and if 
there'd been a chance in the world Sonny would keep secret the fact that she 
had seduced him and sucked him off until he came in her mouth, she knew she 
could never hope for as much from Bobby. He would tell. It was inevitable. 
And it seemed to Barbara that her only logical course of action would be to 
get up right now and pack and catch the bus back to San Francisco, then send 
her letter of resignation from there. 

She knew that was the thing to do, and yet she did not do it. Instead she 
stayed, as people will sometimes stay in their homes and perish rather than 
flee a war or some natural disaster. She stayed because, even not admitting 
her motives to herself, she had loved what had happened to her and she knew 
that sooner or later that, or something even better, would happen again. In 
Bobby Lane she felt she had discovered a real man, the first real man she 
had ever known in spite of the fact that he was only sixteen years of age. 
He had fucked her, and not only had he had the courage to fuck her, he had 
given her an orgasm. And that was more than anyone else had ever done. 

On Monday morning she got up and went to school with a mingling of dread and 
burning anticipation. She knew not what the day would have in store for her; 
she was prepared, somehow, for almost anything . . . and nothing happened. 
It was like any other day at Hatfieldville High. She taught her classes, had 
her lunch with her unsuspecting fellow faculty members, listened to a few 
special problems some of her students brought to her after class, and put up 
with the usual amount of nonsense from the most mischievous of her students. 
Bobby looked at her in a slightly different way, with a kind of intimacy, as 
though they shared a secret that belonged only to the two of them. But they 
were private glances, meant she knew for no one but her. 

That afternoon when she left school and walked home alone Barbara felt a 
combination of relief and disappointment, disappointment she then attributed 
to the fact that the humiliating confrontation and exposure she'd thought 
was imminent was being postponed. The following day was no different, with 
one notable exception. Sonny, who had during the last several school days 
become sullen and moody, began again to participate in class. 

And so it went. By Wednesday Barbara was almost in a state of euphoria. She 
began to believe that somehow she might have been spared. She had committed 
her wrongs, she had been prepared to pay the price, just as her predecessor 
Dorothy Priddy had paid. Now she was beginning to wonder if she hadn't 
miraculously been given a second chance. It was of course an unrealistic 
dream. But she clung to it, as a condemned murderer might cling to the dream 
of last minute pardon. 

The big topic of conversation that week around both the school and the town 
was Friday night's game with the neighboring town of Hastings. Hastings and 
Hatfieldville, she learned, had a long history of rivalry and even enmity, 
where football was concerned. For several years Hastings dominated both 
Hatfieldville and most of the other teams in the area. Two years ago 
Hatfieldville had eked out an upset. Last season Hatfieldville had been the 
hands-down favorite, and they had lost in a game marred by poor 
sportsmanship on both sides. This year local sports writers were calling the 
teams evenly matched in spite of the awesome reputation of The Four 
Horsemen. School spirit was riding high. 

Thursday night was the night of the traditional Hastings-game pep rally and 
bonfire behind the gymnasium. Not only the school but most of the town 
turned out for the occasion. The bonfire was enormous, the pep talks and 
shouting and speeches on the part of the coach and the stars of the team 
reminiscent, in Barbara's mind at least, of Nazi rallies in Munich in the 
1930's. There was a madness in the air, a madness that was contagious in the 
sheer mass energy it engendered in the universal consciousness of the town. 
It was contagious even to Barbara, who found herself participating avidly in 
the yells. And at least it served as a break in her routine of lonely 
nights. Since Bobby Lane had so cruelly ravished and raped her defenselessly 
responding young body, her nights had become even more unbearable than 
before. Sometimes she lay awake almost till dawn, tormented by the exquisite 
heartbreaking memories of those few moments of forbidden ecstasy she had 
known once and had begun to fear she would never know again. 

The pep rally lasted until about ten o'clock, then Coach Johnson announced 
its end, admonishing the team members to go home and get a good night's 
rest, admonishing the townspeople to go home and pray to God for victory. 
Barbara stood listening to this final anticlimactic speech in the flickering 
orange light of the dying bonfire, her eyes wondering over the crowd to seek 
out the face of Bobby Lane, standing with the other three backfielders and 
Darrel Clayton just behind the coach. Then Burt Johnson finished and she 
felt a faint twinge of disappointment as she saw the youngster who had so 
violently raped her turn without a glance in her direction and walk, with 
his entourage, off the field toward his pick-up. She sighed, also turning to 
start back to her house, when she was startled by the hesitant voice at her 
back: "Hello Miss Halperin. I was wondering if I could walk you home?" 
Barbara looked down with surprise at the hopeful face of Sonny Wilkens. 
"Just to the door," he added quickly. 

Barbara hesitated for a moment, glad for the company, any company, yet 
placed naturally on the defensive after what had happened last Saturday at 
the dance. But Sonny seemed during the last few days to have forgiven her, 
and this would perhaps give her an opportunity to re-establish a rapport 
with the teenager of whom she'd once been so fond. Then she smiled, warmly, 
looking tenderly down into his eyes. 

"Yes Sonny. I'd be very happy to have you walk me home. To the door." 

Together they walked around the corner of the gymnasium and started down the 
street. It was a clear comfortable night. There was a feeling of lingering 
excitement and movement in the town, deriving perhaps simply from the 
movement of the automobiles of the townspeople driving home from the rally, 
and hardly a word was exchanged between the teacher and her young student 
until after they'd crossed Main Street and were descending the last couple 
of blocks to her place. Then hesitantly Sonny broke the comfortable silence. 

"I guess I acted like a real idiot Saturday night." 

"Oh no, Sonny," Barbara said quickly, wanting to smooth that over as much as 
possible. "You're . . . your attitude was understandable." 

"I was just jealous I guess. I thought, after what had happened-" 

"Sonny," Barbara interrupted. "I don't want you to talk about that." 

"No. I want to tell you what's on my mind," Sonny said resolutely. "After 
what.. . what happened, I guess I got to feeling that I had some special . . 
. hold on you. Then when I saw you with Bobby. Bobby has everything . . . so 
many women. He's the football star and everything. And for him to take you 
away from me, I just couldn't stand it." 

"Bobby didn't take me.. . away from you," Barbara stammered in exasperation. 

Now they were but half a block from her place, and Sonny walked the greater 
part of that distance in silence, speaking again only as they were crossing 
Mr. Gladstone's driveway: 

"I know. I understand. Bobby and I had a long talk about you the next day." 

A spontaneous gasp rose in Barbara's throat, and when she spoke it was with 
a cracked and quivering voice. "You had a talk about me?" 

"Yeah. Bobby told me what had happened, and how he'd talked to you about me 
and my . . . problem. And of course I told him how.. . you know . . . what 
you had done for me . . . " 

"Sonny!" Barbara whimpered, a tightness constricting in her throat. "You 
told him about . . . about that? And he told you . . . about.. . ? " 

They were crossing her yard, ascending the steps. Barbara was walking on 
wobbly legs and she felt in her shock almost severed from her own 
salaciously excited body. She realized but vaguely that during these last 
few days she'd been living in a dream, deluded, unable to face the facts of 
life. And this now was the beginning of the end, the end to which she'd been 
resigned and then somehow imagined she'd escaped. 

"So I was thinking maybe . . . , " Sonny went on, "how you sort of told 
Bobby you would really help me out. I was thinking maybe we could do it 
tonight?" 

"I didn't tell Bobby anything of the sort," Barbara gasped, looking down 
wide-eyed at the self-confident youngster. "So you go, now. You go home 
right now and I.. . I will just.. . leave here . . . tomorrow." 

"No," Sonny said. Then he opened the door, which Barbara had not even 
bothered to lock before going out, and walked ahead of her into the house. 

Dazed, Barbara followed him down the darkened hell. She saw his silhouette 
framed in the doorway of the living room. She was reaching for the light, 
but Sonny reached first for her, his hands going up around her, his body 
pressing awkwardly against her breasts. He bounced onto his tiptoes, kissing 
her hungrily on the lips as his hands moved down to seize the tight-clenched 
half-moons of her ass-cheeks from the outside of her skirt, pulling her 
loins urgently against his grinding pelvis so that she was acutely aware of 
the lust-bloated hardness of his cock grinding right against her pubic mound 
on the outside of her dress. 

"Ooooh," Barbara purred in spontaneous reflex to the physical sensations 
darting through her loins from the teasing contact. For a moment she let 
herself respond naturally in spite of the horror and shame that gripped her. 
She felt Sonny's hands tearing at her clothing, jerking the tails of her 
blouse up out of her skirt and starting to lift the skirt itself up off the 
panty-clad half moons of her ass. Then something in her snapped, as it 
always did, and in a sudden violent motion she pushed Sonny away from her, 
pulling her skirt back down and retreating a couple of steps back into the 
hall. "No, Sonny," she said in a trembling voice. "I'm not going to do it. 
I'm not. And you're not strong enough to force me the way Bobby did." 

Panting like a cornered animal, Barbara stood in the darkness staring at 
Sonny's shadowy form. Then she sucked her breath in in a hoarse gasp, 
stepped forward and reached to the inside of the door-facing to switch on 
the light. Then she almost fainted at what she saw. 

Seated around the room, on the couch and in the easy chair and the 
straight-backed chairs at the dining table were Bobby Lane, Danny Morrow, 
Jimmy Crane and Tommy Howard. The Four Horsemen! 

Barbara felt as if she could have passed out right there on the spot from 
the shocking sight of the four eagerly leering teenagers, staring at her 
with their hungry animal-like eyes in a way that made her skin crawl. And it 
was then that it came to her, vaguely, from somewhere far in the back of her 
mind: 

War. Pestilence. Famine. Death. 

The original Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, out of The Revelation. And 
Barbara didn't think now that she could have felt any more helpless and 
vulnerable if it had been those four mounted symbols of human suffering who 
confronted her right now. 

"W-what do you want?" Barbara gasped absurdly, her face pale with fear and 
shame. 

"I think you know," Bobby said with a trace of a smile. "Sort of a matter of 
team spirit. One for all and all for one. Like the Three Musketeers. And we 
figured Sonny deserved a share too since he missed out on Miss Priddy." 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Barbara croaked. "I want you to 
get out of here right now. I don't know what you're talking about." 

"We're talking about gang-bang, Miss Halperin," said Danny Morrow. 

"Noooooooooo!" Barbara squealed, her sheer sensation of hopelessness causing 
a lewd masochistic excitement to dart feverishly through her betraying loins 
and flesh. "Nooooo, you can't do it to me. You can't. I won't let you." 

Mortified by shock and fear, Barbara watched the two boys stand up and walk 
slowly toward her. She knew she could not escape. They had her. Both her 
terrible secrets had been exposed and by tomorrow certainly the whole school 
would know every evil thing she had done and had had done to her since she'd 
come here. But first she had this final humiliation to endure. Yet still she 
felt obliged to protest. 

"You can't do it," she blurted again as the boys moved into a circle around 
her, Sonny taking her hand to pull her in toward the center of the room. 
"Tomorrow's the big game with Hastings," she stumbled absurdly on. "You'll . 
. . you'll wear yourselves out." 

"We can handle Hastings this year walking in our sleep," Bobby said 
flippantly. "But I think you're the one who's going to be worn out before 
we're through tonight." 

Then they were on her. As Barbara stood still and unresisting, immobilized 
by her shock and fear, the boys tore at her clothing, pawing over her with 
their hands. She felt completely demoralized and defeated and she knew there 
was nothing she could do to resist. She stood passively as their fingers 
moved over the softness of her half-naked flesh and continued to tear at the 
remaining flimsily concealing garments of her underclothing until she was 
stripped finally to the nude, and she could do nothing but gaze hopelessly 
around, trying futilely to shield her breasts and the little golden patch of 
the hair of her cunt with her hands. 

"Who's first?" Danny Morrow asked, starting eagerly to peel the shirt off 
his own broad muscular shoulders. 

"We can take her two at a time if somebody doesn't mind her mouth," said 
Jimmy Crane. 

"Hell, I'll take her mouth," Tommy Howard put in quickly. 

"No, I don't want it," Barbara sobbed helplessly as the shocking chatter 
continued, her eyes glazing as she watched the boys stripping off their own 
clothing to reveal their athletic naked young bodies. "Please, just let me 
leave. I'll go. I'll leave town right now, tonight, if you just. . . " 

"Sonny's first," said Bobby Lane, putting a sudden halt to conversation. 

"You damned right," Sonny said in a voice that was uncharacteristically 
tough and determined as he stripped off his own shirt to expose his 
comparatively frail torso and started to remove his trousers. "And a couple 
of you guys hold her for me, because I want to do it right." Then, a sharp 
glint coming into his eyes, he looked at Barbara and smiled. "Miss Halperin, 
have you ever had your pussy eaten?" 

"Oh God no!" Barbara sobbed, trembling with shame. 

Then suddenly she was being pushed down to the floor, naked on her back. 
Someone seized her wrists, stretching her arms straight out above her head 
on the scratchy carpet while two more pairs of hands grabbed her ankles, 
pulling her thighs out into a spread-eagled posture to completely expose and 
open the tingling little orifice of her cunt. She was helplessly pinioned, 
completely open and vulnerable, naked to the bone. There was nothing she 
could do to resist, and as Sonny, now also naked, dropped suddenly down to 
his knees between her thighs she couldn't deny the tremors of even further 
longing shooting out in a wild electric current along her straining inner 
thighs and over her lightly perspiring flesh. 

She was lost in a shocked state of drunken numbness and, through glazed 
eyes, she stared down at Sonny, looking now almost fearful as he lowered his 
own face between her loins, his hands moving up to ease her thighs even 
farther apart before his tongue suddenly flicked from his lips to dance 
directly down into the soft hairs of her cunt, flicking teasingly over the 
quivering bud of her clitoris as his fingers moved higher to slowly part the 
moist gently pulsing little slit until her vagina was completely exposed to 
his excited gaze. Then with a low groan of lust the blond-haired teenager 
dropped his head lower and buried the full length of his tongue straight up 
into the sensitively quivering depths of Barbara's openly flowered cunt. 

"Ooohhhhh," the spread-eagled blonde school teacher whimpered in spite of 
herself, her whole voluptuous body jerking in a sudden tremor from the 
unwelcome shocks of pleasure purling relentlessly through her belly and 
loins. "No, please, Sonny," she wailed in a delirium of insincere protest. 
"You can't. Please don't do it to me. Please don't do it." 

Yet even against her will she could already feel the traitorous excitement 
building through her body until she thought the very nerve-ends of her skin 
would explode in the searing flames of her desire. Already she was finding 
it less and less easy to remember that she was being raped against her will. 
Sonny was drawing the tingling delicate folds of her vagina deep into his 
mouth, and a low sigh escaped her throat to signal the beginnings of willing 
submission to the lewd assault. 

Smiling in lascivious triumph, Sonny pressed his face lower, pushing his 
open mouth against the desire-swollen wetness of her cunt, nibbling gently 
at the erect little bud of her clitoris before again darting his tongue 
straight up into her burning vaginal opening to prompt a sudden automatic 
writhing of her hips up from the carpet to meet his slavishly sucking lips. 

"Oh God," Barbara whimpered in submission, her cries of pleasure echoing 
through the room. Her vagina was on fire and as Sonny continued to tongue 
deeply into the warm moist furrow of flesh her face contorted with passion, 
her body jerking in frenzied little contortions in its spread-eagled 
position on the floor. Now all her inhibitions were lost and the 
lust-demented school teacher groaned in shameless desire, shaking her head 
from side to side to whip her long golden hair over the softness of her 
shoulders as her cunt flowered open wider and wider, the fragrant wetness of 
her passion running in narrow trickles down the sides of the teenager's 
cheeks. 

"Boy, look at Sonny go!" said an anonymous, excited voice. 

"Yeah, look at him eat that cunt!" another echoed. 

Barbara barely even deciphered their obscene comments. She was completely 
swept up in the obscene sensation of the lips and tongue sucking and licking 
gluttonously at her flame-seared little cunt. Her eyes were closed tight, 
her teeth-gritted, her face contorted with her building lust as she began to 
buck and writhe even more wildly on the floor. Then suddenly the madly 
titillating sensation ceased. She opened her eyes, a little cry of 
frustration escaping her lips, then sighed and sank down in peaceful 
surrender as she saw Sonny slide quickly up over her body and felt the 
small, rigidly erected hardness of his cock prodding right up against the 
lust-tortured lips of her cunt. 

"Oh yes," she moaned. "Yes, fuck me, Sonny. Put your cock in my cunt." 

After what he'd just been through Sonny hardly needed any further 
encouragement, and he leaned quickly forward on Barbara's luxuriously naked 
breasts, positioning his pelvis between her thighs and guiding the swollen 
head of his rigid cock right up into the entrance of her passion-saturated 
little cunt. He groaned as he felt her tightly clinging skin close 
glove-like around it, sucking and pulling hungrily at his erect little 
phallus, and he skewered it as deep as it would go, his sperm-swollen balls 
smacking with a thud against the crack between her upturned buttocks before 
he flexed deeply, then, almost losing control immediately, withdrew and 
fucked hard up into her again. 

"Oooooh," Barbara moaned ecstatically beneath him as the moistly heated 
inner walls of her vagina slipped wetly over his impaling cock-shaft like a 
tight-fitting glove. Sonny's slenderly distended cock was racing in and out 
of her like a rapidly pumping piston, his pelvis grinding down hard onto her 
straining flesh as she squirmed and tossed beneath him, her bucking 
movements almost pitching his light young body completely off as the boy 
intensified his own thrust to a frenzied staccato rhythm. 

Then suddenly Sonny groaned, moving into a series of even more violently 
racking lunges, and Barbara's eyes rolled in her head as she realized what 
was happening. A moment later she felt his cock stiffen even harder and 
begin suddenly to spew its white-hot liquid far up into the hidden recesses 
of her womb. Spurt after spurt of his gushing sticky semen ricocheted 
against the walls of her expanding passage as she jerked and writhed even 
more wildly, straining for the release that evaded her. But it was too soon, 
and even as she continued to buck and thrash beneath him she felt the 
impending relief slipping relentlessly from her grasp. Then Sonny's weight 
fell heavily across her continually writhing body and his spent, already 
rapidly deflating penis began to slither back out of her desperately 
clenching loins. 

"No, oh God no!" Barbara cried out in her unbearable frustration. "Don't 
stop now. That's not fucking, you little . . . 

Her tirade ceased and she looked up through dazed eyes as Sonny rolled off 
her and sat up, looking shamefully around at his companions. "I guess I 
loused up," he croaked. 

"Oh God," Barbara cried, unable to contain herself. "I want more. I want a 
real fucking. Bobby. Bobby, come on and give me the real thing." 

"Not me," Bobby said. "Tonight's for the other guys first." He paused, 
looking around as the two youngsters who'd held Barbara's arms and legs 
released her. "Tommy, you and Jimmy go ahead. One of you take her mouth and 
the other get her dog-fashion from behind." 

"Oooooooh," Barbara moaned in the shame and humiliation of it all. She 
closed her eyes, letting her still spasmodically twitching body go almost 
limp as she was rolled onto her belly, two new pairs of hands searching over 
her flesh, pushing her into position. 

"Kneel up," a voice commanded her and she drew her legs obediently up 
beneath her belly almost to her breasts, arching her buttocks invitingly 
high into the air. She felt Jimmy Crane scoot up on his knees behind her, a 
little shudder coursing through her loins at the first contact of his full 
man-sized penis up between her open-splayed thighs. It was almost twice as 
big as Sonny's and a little tremor of delirious delight coursed over her 
flesh at the thought of having it finally inside her, filling her, quelling 
the raging lust burning out of control through her loins. The whole episode 
still seemed almost more than she could imagine, but now she was in it and 
she knew there would be no way out until the end. 

At the same time Tommy Howard was stationing himself on his knees before 
her, his erect cock bent downward by his hand to aim straight at her slack, 
slightly open mouth. She was going to get it from both ends at once and as 
Jimmy suddenly levered even more tightly up against her from behind and she 
felt him insert the thick cudgel of his bulbous cock-head between her 
already flowering and moistened cunt-lips, her spontaneous movement of 
retreat caused her to run almost smack into the pulsing male hardness aimed 
down at her face in front. Then, as though operating by means of a silent 
signal, both boys suddenly thrust. 

"Uuggghhhh!" Barbara grunted as Tommy's gagging cock-shaft rammed suddenly 
into her mouth and Jimmy's hard male penis plundered just as swiftly up into 
her from behind. She took them both at once, Tommy's rigid cock sliding 
easily between her teeth and down the length of her saliva-coated tongue, 
Jimmy's lust-hardened cock skewering relentlessly up into her defenseless 
vagina to the hilt. The boy behind her wrapped his hands around her flanks 
to prevent further retreat, and Tommy seized her hair to hold her face in 
place against his loins. Then, almost as if they'd practiced it before, the 
two youngsters began to fuck in a swift and perfectly timed rhythm in and 
out of her from both ends. 

Barbara's trapped body was buffeted like a rag doll between the two groaning 
and panting youngsters. Jimmy skewered into her with hard racking lunges, 
slapping his pelvis loudly against the proffered cheeks of her ass as he 
drove his penis again and again to the hilt up into her lust-inflamed little 
vagina. From the front Tommy's engorged cock-head was ramming almost to her 
throat, filling and stretching her ovaled lips until she thought she would 
gag. 

But there was no escape, and the tremors of delight coursing out over her 
loins were already blotting out the frustration she'd derived from Sonny's 
ignominious failure, and she sucked slavishly at the penis invading her 
mouth, swirling her tongue in tantalizing circles around the thickly surging 
cock-shaft as it rammed deeper and deeper toward her throat, grinding and 
wiggling her naked buttocks wildly back against the boy fucking and mauling 
her from behind. She was conscious of the leering gazes of the other boys 
crowded close around to watch, and out of the corner of her eye she could 
see Sonny sulking in the far corner of the room. She knew her game was up. 
Something like this could never be lived down in a little town like 
Hatfieldville and her career here as a teacher was finished. But in the 
meantime she was determined to exact every ounce of pleasure she could from 
the lewd ravishment that would inevitably lead to her downfall. Tonight it 
was the backfield, tomorrow night if there was a tomorrow it might for all 
she knew be the line. But in the meantime there was nothing but the present, 
nothing but the two wildly fucking boys skewering their twin cocks into her 
separately yielding orifices, and the helplessly wanton young blonde wanted 
nothing more than this, to please and be pleased, to finally quench the 
fires of lust that tortured and devastated her loins. 

Whimpering with masochistic rapture, Barbara let herself go completely, 
wiggling and grinding her buttocks back with a frenzy as Jimmy's impaling 
cock continued to plunge into her from behind, sucking with fervor on the 
engorged instrument of flesh that violated her mouth. She humped and bucked 
in eager response as they drove her lust-beaten form brutally back and forth 
between them, mauling and pawing over her nakedly cringing flesh, the very 
debasement and humiliation to which they were subjecting her prompting in 
her an excitement and raw titillation that went beyond anything she'd yet 
experienced. She could feel the nerve-ends of her flesh ignited with the raw 
searing sensation of the dual-fucking of her mouth and cunt, and already the 
first tremors of pre-orgasmic release were surging relentlessly over her. 

Nor would the boys be far behind. Jimmy was building swiftly toward his own 
rousing climax, slamming his body violently against the upturned crevice of 
her ass, attacking her with animal frenzy that matched the animalistic 
position in which she'd been placed. Tommy was fucking into her mouth with 
an equal fury, the seminal fluids issuing from the slitted glans at the tip 
of his cock mixing with the saliva that filled her sensuously hollowed 
cheeks. Together the three of them were building toward the end, and moments 
later it began. 

Suddenly the nakedly squirming blonde felt Jimmy's ponderous cock twitch and 
distend even deeper into her from behind, stretching her cruelly invaded 
little pussy almost beyond belief as he launched into a series of final 
hard-racking lunges against the wiggling cheeks of her ass. The boy used his 
knees to spread her thighs even wider apart, his battering cock thundering 
almost up to her belly as it began suddenly to pump its hot teeming load of 
semen far up into the quivering depths of her womb. 

Sensing what was happening, Barbara rocked back to grind her buttocks even 
harder against his loins, relishing the painfully deep violation of her 
loins and the final pummeling fury as he built to the peak of his assault. A 
moment later the boy in front of her seized her hair even more tightly, 
smothering her face into his loins and ramming his pile-driving cock all the 
way to her tonsils as the dam of his own restraint gave way and the first 
wave of salaciously squirting sperm began its mad dash from his balls up the 
length of the elongated shaft of his cock. 

Barbara gulped as she felt his hot cum spew suddenly into her mouth, the 
pungent liquid pumping in an incessant flow as jet after jet of his viscous 
semen pelted to the back of her throat. She was forced to swallow to keep 
from choking and her cheeks were filled with the lewdly flowing liquid, her 
eyes watering from the strain as she gulped it hungrily down. At the same 
time she continued the wanton thrashing and humping of her buttocks back 
against Jimmy's pumping loins, and her brain was reeling as she felt her own 
release fluttering to a crescendo far up in her loins, her body soaring and 
exploding in a devastating burst of fiery delight. 

And then it was over. Barbara collapsed on the floor beneath the two boys, 
feeling their spent penises slip from the respective orifices of her mouth 
and her cunt. For a moment she basked in shameless satisfaction, purring 
softly from the little orgasmic waves still rippling over her flesh. Then 
two more boys replaced the ones who had just spent their lust on her body. 
She felt herself being shoved, faintly protesting, back into position to do 
the same thing again. Deliriously she realized that, far from over, her 
ravishment was just beginning. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Barbara went like a zombie through the motions of the next day's classes. 
Everywhere she went she heard, or thought she heard, a buzz of conversation 
behind her back, the giggles of girls and young boys, the boastings of the 
boys who had already had her, the eager exclamations of the boys who had not 
yet had her and were sure now that soon they would. She was almost numbed 
from her shame and she functioned mechanically, hardly caring. Her life 
seemed over. She knew she was living on borrowed time. She felt like the 
worm in hell that would not die. 

She left the game that night at half-time, a sickening nausea rising in her 
throat as she watched the Hatfieldville starters trudge from the field, 
beneath the scoreboard that registered Hastings' 14 to 7 lead. At home she 
sat on the couch in her darkened living room. Far away she could hear the 
crowd at the stadium, roaring, falling silent, roaring again. 

It was sometime after eleven when she heard the knock at her front door and 
went to answer it. Standing outside, looking nervous and slightly downcast, 
was Sonny Wilkens. "We lost," he said. "They had a chance to tie it at the 
end Bobby fumbled a hand-off to Tommy on the seven yard line." He paused as 
Barbara nodded grimly, then looked up at her hopefully. "Can I come in." 

Barbara shook her head, reaching up unconsciously to check the latch on the 
screen. "No Sonny." 

"But. . . " 

"No!" she snapped shortly. Then, as he stared forlornly in, she shut the 
door and locked it, walked down the hall to her bedroom and went to bed. 

Barbara awoke with a start from her sleep, her naked body stiffening in the 
darkness as she heard the loud banging at the front of her house. It took 
her a moment to determine that it was the front door, not a knocking on the 
door but someone banging against it with their whole body as though trying 
to brak it down. For the first few seconds she couldn't even move, then, 
hearing the door suddenly give way she kicked off her covers and scrambled 
naked from the bed, pulling her light housecoat hastily over the lush naked 
curves of her body as she heard the footsteps coming down the hall. She went 
to the door and flicked on the light, then jumped back as she saw the 
hulking form of Coach Burt Johnson, followed by Bobby Lane. 

"Come on," the coach said, seizing her arm. "I didn't think you were ever 
going to wake up. We've got to get you away from here right now." 

"W-what is it?" Barbara gasped, still half groggy with sleep in spite of the 
fear that had gripped her. 

"Sonny talked," the coach said. The whole town knows what happened last 
night. There's an angry mob coming down the street right now, and what 
they've got planned for you is even more than you deserve." 

"What plan?" Barbara gasped, hardly able to believe what the coach was 
saying. 

"I won't go into details. These men or just drunken loggers, but they love 
my football team. There's an interesting device in the sawmill which you 
might have seen employed in an old movie rerun sometime. What they have in 
mind is a sort of Islamic justice." 

"Islamic justice?" 

"Yeah," the coach said tersely. "If a man steals, cut his hand off. If a 
woman . . . " He left the rest to Barbara's imagination, but the image was 
clear enough. "I'll take you to my place tonight, then get you out of town 
in the morning. That's the last place they would expect you to hide." 

"But . . . , " Barbara began. "Why are you doing this?" 

"Because I wouldn't want to see anybody's asshole run across that buzz-saw. 
And Bobby told me what really happened last night. Maybe it wasn't all your 
fault." 

Barbara wasn't even given time to put on a dress. Clad in nothing but her 
flimsy robe, she let the coach lead her out into the cool night air where 
Bobby's pick up waited. As they got in and pulled away she looked back 
through the windshield at the mob rounding the corner off Main Street. Bobby 
drove them to the coach's place and dropped them off there. Inside in the 
masculine-decorated den of his ranch-style home the coach poured her a stiff 
shot of Bourbon and Barbara tried to explain what she'd come to understand 
during the hours she'd lain awake thinking before finally drifting into the 
deep and restful slumber from which she'd been so rudely awakened. 

"I missed the most important part of my adolescence. Sexual discovery. You 
might not believe me, coach. But I only lost my virginity a week before I 
came here. My fianc' raped me, though I guess deep down inside I wanted it. 
Then, I found myself in a teenage environment. There were all these boys, 
handsome strong boys around, the kind of boys I should have been sleeping 
with when I was seventeen or eighteen. It just happened. And I've got to 
admit it wasn't all their fault either. Maybe that buzz-saw is exactly what 
I deserve," she added with a little shiver, then went on: "But anyway, I 
don't know how I can thank you for what you've done tonight." 

"You don't?" the coach said, his eyes drifting hungrily over the soft curves 
of Barbara's body scarcely concealed in the flimsy robe she wore. 

Then, understanding, she smiled and nodded. "I guess I do understand. Is 
that what you really want?" 

The coach drank down his whiskey. "It's what I've wanted ever since that 
first day I saw you. I guess that's why I don't blame the boys, even for 
losing tonight." 

Barbara finished her own whiskey, feeling slightly numbed by all that had 
happened. "Then, I guess after everything else I can hardly say no to you." 

He took her to the bedroom. He kissed her hard on the lips, pulling and 
mauling at her lush young body as he pushed the robe from her shoulders and 
held the ripeness of her breasts tight against his chest. He groaned in her 
ear, his hands sweeping down over her buttocks, squeezing and fondling them 
greedily as Barbara felt the first sensuous tingles of delight darting up 
through her loins, as she realized that for the first time in her life she 
had actually said yes to a man. She wasn't being raped tonight, she was 
giving in out of her own free will even if the submission was obligatory 
after the fate the coach had saved her from, and as she realized the 
significance of that fact she suddenly rose onto her tiptoes, her arms going 
tight around his neck to hug his muscular body even more tightly to her own, 
her lips showering hungry kisses of affection and gratitude across his face. 

The coach endured this for a moment, then suddenly his strong hands gripped 
Barbara's shoulders almost painfully. He shoved her down to a sprawling 
position on the bed, glaring at her almost vengefully. 

Barbara couldn't believe the hatred with which the coach was looking at her. 
"W-what happened. I thought.. . I thought you wanted me," she whimpered with 
building disappointment and frustration. 

"I do want you, you bitch!" Burt Johnson hissed through gritted teeth. "But 
I wanted to win that football game too, and we would have won if you hadn't 
been here, even if last night wasn't your fault." 

Oh dear, Barbara thought as she watched the strong hairy chested man 
suddenly peel off his tee-shirt and start to unbuckle his trousers. Her eyes 
were glazed with a mingling of fear and lust as he pulled his trousers down 
and the unbelievably gigantic shaft of his cock sprang suddenly to shocking 
freedom. He was still glaring at her as if he would like to kill her, though 
she could see clearly the angry raging lust in his eyes, and she made no 
move to escape as he climbed up onto his knees beside her on the bed, his 
hands cupping and digging at her breasts and searching brutally over the 
nakedly cringing curves of her flesh. Then with a sudden grunt he rolled her 
over onto her belly and before Barbara could comprehend quite what was 
happening to her he fell on her with all his strength and all the crushing 
weight of his body, his cock lying like a menacing presence straight along 
the crack of her ass as his hands suddenly pushed her knees up under her 
almost to her breasts. 

Barbara's head was buried in the pillow and her back ached painfully from 
the weight of the hulking man on top of her. She felt completely helpless 
and vulnerable, her buttocks pushed defenselessly high in the air, her skin 
quivering as he scratched and mauled over her nakedly rounded ass-cheeks. 
Then, as his thumbs dipped down into the forbidden crack between them, 
spreading the two half-moons forcibly wide apart to completely expose the 
puckered little hole of her anus, she shuddered with the first bitter 
inkling of what he intended to do to her. 

"I wanted to win!" he growled. "Did you hear that, you bitch? I wanted to 
win. And we would have if it hadn't been for you." 

Then Barbara's body stiffened as one of the coach's hands slipped down 
between her thighs from behind, his fingers brushing swiftly over the 
already lust-dilated lips of her pussy to spread several oozing droplets of 
her moist feminine lubricant back over the sensitive little membrane that 
separated her cunt from her anus. Staring wide-eyed ahead of her, Barbara 
felt him work the moisture around her cringing little asshole. Then suddenly 
he drew his finger away, and as he levered forward another couple of inches 
on the bed, it was replaced by the thick cudgel-sized head of his hotly 
swollen cock. 

"Noooooo!" Barbara squealed, suddenly gripped by terror as the coach shoved 
forward and she experienced the first sudden savagely painful pressure of 
his cock-head pushing right against the tight little aperture. "Oh God no," 
she whimpered. "You can't do that. Not in . . . not in there!" 

"The hell I can't," the coach growled. "Now open up or I'll give you back to 
that goddamned buzz-saw." 

How could this man ever have the audacity to stand in front of a Sunday 
School class and teach the Word of God, Barbara asked herself as she knelt 
trembling in terror before him. This was worse than any fate she could ever 
have conceived of and in spite of the blinding pain surging through her body 
as the pressure on her defenseless anus increased, she still had the 
presence of mind to wonder if after he was through with her she would ever 
be the same again. The burning sensation up between her buttocks was almost 
more than she could bear, and she felt shamed and degraded beyond all human 
decency as the grunting ape of a man struggled to fit his giant cock into 
the tiny little hole of hr anus. 

At first it seemed that no matter how hard he pushed it would never fit. It 
blunted against the resisting little orifice or slipped downward toward her 
wetly dripping cunt. Then he seized his massive cock with his hand to hold 
it in place, his other hand reaching beneath Barbara's belly to hold her in 
her menial position, and with a sudden heaving of breath he gave a mighty 
forward lunge. 

"Aaaagggghhhhhhhh!" Barbara screamed as the coach succeeded in forcing just 
the spongy head of his massively palpitating cock up into her vainly 
resisting little anal opening. "Stop, please, you're killing me!" she 
whimpered as he flexed his hips forward again, pushing relentlessly inward 
to shove his long penis deeper and deeper up into her heatedly cringing 
rectum. But her cries reverberated heedlessly through the room, and as she 
continued to squirm and writhe in anguish and humiliation, he shoved the 
full length of his punishing rod of flesh all the way up to the hilt, its 
driving hardness sweeping aside all her inner anal resistance until his 
plundering cock was embedded in her to the hilt and his loins smacked down 
hard against the soft ripe cushions of her ass. 

"I wanted to win that game!" the coach hissed in her ear, sagging heavily 
upon her as his initial penetration was completed. Then, still long before 
Barbara's ravished asshole had had time to adjust, he pulled back and lunged 
forward again, instituting an intense and rhythmic pistoning motion as his 
rock-hard penis skewered in and out of her tightly clenching little hole. 

Sobs of pain and misery poured from the kneeling blonde's lips as the 
hulking football coach lunged the skewering hardness of his cock again and 
again up into the most tender depths of her rectum. Her body shuddered in 
spontaneous little spasms and for the first few moments she thought she 
would pass out from the pain of it all. But to her amazement she began to 
realize that the initial agony had faded rather than increased. The pain was 
becoming oddly almost pleasurable, and tentatively she moved her buttocks 
back to meet his next racking lunge, feeling the first stirrings of a new 
kind of passion rejuvenating through her naked body as she wiggled her 
buttocks in small little circles, relaxing the inner muscles of her bowels 
as her pliable anal flesh began to adjust to the filling presence thrusting 
up inside it. 

"Oh God," Barbara wailed as the sputtering and cursing man continued to bang 
and thrust into her tightly quivering rubbery sheath of flesh. His hands 
were still crawling and dancing over her sensitive back, moving down beneath 
her to cup and fondle the swaying ripeness of her breasts, pinching 
painfully at her lustfully erected nipples as he further intensified the 
rhythm of his merciless assault, his breath rasping loud and hoarsely in her 
ears. 

Barbara waved her buttocks wildly back against Burt Johnson's racking 
lunges, her mind blurred by the sheer intensity of the sensation she was 
experiencing. She was being fucked brutally in the ass and she was enjoying 
even this, and again she could only remind herself how much life she'd 
cheated herself out of during the long years she'd spent in self-enforced 
chastity. She felt no pain now, only an exquisite warm wetness in the 
crevice between her asscheeks and a lurid burning far up inside her bowels 
as the coach skewered even more forcibly and more deeply into her. She was 
straining back against his pummeling penis, feeling it throb to even greater 
size and hardness to stretch her tightly clasping anus almost beyond 
endurance. 

"Oh fuck me in the ass," she chanted in soft delirium, flailing her head 
from side to side as the length of his penis began to twitch and convulse 
far up into her bowels and he began a final series of shattering thrusts and 
at last let go of his weakening remnants of self-control. 

"Yes cum," she screamed. "Cum in me!" Deep up toward her belly Barbara felt 
the splatteringly pelting droplets as the coach let himself go completely, 
humping and bucking like a wild man as he pumped his teeming load of hot 
male sperm deep up into the tight hollow of her ass. And as she realized 
what was happening Barbara felt her own body suddenly tense, waves of 
masochistic ecstasy sweeping out over her tingling flesh as her mind almost 
blanked out from the sheer devastating fury of the anal orgasm that engulfed 
her. 

The she gasped as she felt the coach's limply deflating penis withdraw from 
her asshole with a little pop. She sagged, panting, down on the bed, feeling 
him pull her body to his strong chest, holding her tightly in his arms. 

"Jesus," the coach gasped through his still rasping breath. "I don't know 
now but what it was worth it." 

"Worth what?" 

"Losing to Hastings." 

 CHAPTER NINE 

The sun blazed fiercely down over the anvil of the desert, stretching 
endlessly as far as the eye could see. Greg Benson descended from the rig 
and walked, sweating in his open khaki shirt, toward the truck. 

"Letter, Greg," the American driver said, handing him an airmail envelope 
with Barbara's San Francisco return address and a red sticker that said 
Special Delivery in small print and Express in large. He opened it eagerly. 
Then the smile on his face turned to a dark angry frown as he saw the first 
lines of the brief nastily scrawled letter. And as he read on, the anger 
changed to hurt, then hopelessness. Dear Greg, I don't know how to begin 
this. Call it a dear John, and try somehow to forgive me. 

Something has happened to me during the last few weeks since I last saw you, 
perhaps the most profound change in my life. You were the catalyst for that 
change, . though I know you will hate me for saying it. But I have 
discovered that until that night, I never knew how to live. I have been 
learning ever since. I still don't necessarily want to break off. our 
engagement, as I don't know what things will be like when you come back a 
year from now. But I wouldn't want to be married, today, or tomorrow, or 
next week. I won't want to be married until I've experienced enough of what 
I missed during all those years I wasn't, wasn't.. . How can I say it? 
Fucking. You did it to me first, anyway. I'll still always love you for 
that. Please try to forgive me and try to understand. And get yourself a 
harem over there to keep you company until I see you again. (I'm back in San 
Francisco. I'll start a Ph.D. program at 

Stanford this winter. Teaching didn't work out, for reasons I won't go into 
now.) 

Just understand, Greg, I'm sorry if this hurts you or comes as a shock. And 
know that I'm not doing it bluntly out of spite. I just don't know how else 
to say it and I have literally been working on this letter for days. 

Love, Barbara. 


THE END
