Molested Mother
by Timothy Dann


FOREWORD 

There are two great motivators in the world which seem to beg to say, "The 
end justifies the means." They are greed and sex. Perhaps there is only one, 
because in many ways, greed is simply a perversion of the sex drive. 

However, in this book there are two, separate and apart from each other. On 
the one level is the civilized man, indulging in his desperate greed with 
paid violence. And on the second level is the bought man, transforming the 
violence he is paid to perform into sexual pillage. 

Perhaps this sexual pillage becomes a kind of greed, also. There are no easy 
answers when one gets into the perversions men will demand of helpless 
women. But then, there is almost no accounting for the strange design hidden 
deep in every woman which allows her to experience the ultimate depths of 
sexual satisfaction at the moment of greatest terror and helplessness. 

It is almost as if the world were deliberately put together with sexual 
terrorists and their victims, and that without each other neither could know 
the full depths of life. 

Of course, this is only a novel, not a psychiatrist's textbook. But it is 
worth thinking on. 

-THE PUBLISHER 


CHAPTER ONE 

Karla Thompson peeled off her yellow robe and stood naked before the 
full-length mirror on the inside of her closet door. Her deep blue eyes 
gazed vacantly into space as her tapering fingers worked at unbraiding her 
long golden hair. When it hung loose-almost to her waist-she gave her head a 
shake and eyed her reflection critically. 

Her face was youthful, her fair skin peppered with a sprinkling of freckles 
which had been darkened by hours of work in the sun. Her features were small 
and well-formed, giving her a look of innocence which made her appear even 
younger than her thirty-two years. But her body was that of a woman. 

She was about five feet four inches tall, with a slender and willowy figure. 
Her waist was trim above hips that were flared and curvaceous. Her shapely 
legs were gracefully contoured. A pair of firmly rounded breasts rode full 
and proud on the crest of her thorax. She looked healthy and alive. 

Karla had always been energetic, even when she and Dick lived in the city. 
Back in San Francisco, she had jogged in the park almost every day in an 
effort to keep her flesh firm and well-toned. Then, six years ago, when they 
bought the almond ranch in Nut Valley, she had found ample outlet for her 
energies right at home. Their four ten-acre orchards were in constant need 
of attention. And since Dick was a pilot for a commercial airline out of San 
Francisco airport, one hundred miles away, she and their young daughter 
Gretta had to handle most of the work alone. 

Karla never minded though. She loved working with the trees, and she loved 
living in the Valley. She and Dick had always agreed that the country was 
the only place to raise children. The ranch meant so much to them. Until 
that day two years ago when Dick's plane went down and she became a widow at 
the age of thirty. 

At first, she thought the world had come to an end. She and Dick had been 
childhood sweethearts. He was the only man she ever knew. He and Gretta were 
everything to her. How could she go on? 

But Gretta needed her. And the land needed her. The trees had to be watered. 
The almonds had to be harvested. The earth had to be cultivated. Everything 
she and Dick had saved was invested in the ranch. She owed it to him to keep 
it going. There was no time for grief. 

Somehow, she managed to survive. For the past two years she had been both 
mother and father to Gretta, now fourteen. Her days had been filled with 
labor. But her nights had been empty and lonely. She tried to fill the void 
with memories of Dick and the good times they had together. But somewhere 
inside her heart there was a hollow feeling. 

Today, though, the emptiness inside her was filled with the fluttering of 
butterflies. This evening, for the first time since her husband's death, she 
had a dinner engagement with a man. A very handsome one at that. 

She had seen Paul Sterling several times, when he came to inspect the land 
which surrounded her orchards. His real estate company had already purchased 
hundreds of acres in the Valley, and, according to rumor, was planning some 
kind of development. She knew, of course, that he had only asked her out to 
discuss the purchase of her property. In fact, she had already turned down 
an offer which his partner, Mr. Stone, had made. But Sterling was so 
charming and pleasant when he invited her to dinner, that she agreed to 
listen to his arguments and consider the matter once again. 

Besides, the prospect of going out with him excited her in a surprisingly 
girlish way. All day long, she had felt nervous and jittery. Several times, 
while she was working in the south orchard, she thought the phone rang. But 
when she ran back to the house to answer it, she found that her ears were 
playing tricks on her. Even Gretta had startled her with the sound of her 
voice when she came home from school and joined her among the trees. 
Finally, at her daughter's insistence, she decided to stop work early to 
prepare for her date. 

Standing nude in front of her closet, she selected a chic white pants outfit 
which she hadn't worn in more than two years. She was certain, however, that 
it would still fit her. Hanging it on the closet door, she turned and headed 
for the bathroom, her buttocks swinging from side to side as she walked. 
Their smoothly curving surfaces gleamed white against the deep tan of her 
legs. 

Reaching into the shower stall, she turned the faucets, waiting for the 
water to warm. Then, stepping inside, she allowed the hot spray to play over 
her nudity. The water felt good, massaging her neck and shoulders with its 
pressurized stream. All the tension of her anticipation ebbed out of her 
muscles, her whole body relaxing under the heated flow. Turning slowly, she 
directed its jet against her throat and the tops of her breasts. Her hands 
moved lazily as she rubbed her soaking skin with a gentle circular motion. 

Taking a wash cloth from its hook inside the stall, she began to lather it 
with a soft bar of soap. The thick absorbent material swelled with creamy 
foam, the suds making her fingers slick. Returning the soap to its dish, she 
began to draw the lathered cloth across the sloping plane of her belly. 

With spiraling strokes she scrubbed herself from the top of her golden pubic 
triangle to the bottoms of her swelling tits. Moving her hand between the 
pink-tipped mounds, she soaped her bosom's cleavage carefully. Then, with 
tender movements, she lathered each of her boobs, washing gently around the 
shadows at their peaks. Her nipples were dark and satiny, the roseate tissue 
puckering under her ministration. Their centers elongated cylindrically as 
the twin nubbins became erect. Absently, she plucked at them, turning her 
back to the shower's hot spray. 

Dick used to hold her nipples this way, toying with them lovingly while he 
kissed her lips or whispered in her ear. If she closed her eyes, she could 
almost feel his comforting touch. His hands would cup her breasts for a 
moment and then return obsessively to their peaks. 

She felt the fullness of her tits, filling her palms with their resiliency 
as she mused. Dick had been so gentle; so very tender. She missed the touch 
of his hand, the warmth of his caress. She longed for the security of his 
embrace. Clearing her throat to stifle the sob which was building there, she 
turned her face to the shower again. Briskly, she rubbed herself with the 
washcloth, soaping her thighs and buttocks before bending to wash her feet 
and ankles. But the aroused tingling which had begun with her memories of 
Dick did not stop. She felt the warmth of mounting excitement rise like a 
volcano in her loins. The membranes of her pussy sizzled, copious secretions 
coating their smoothness. She cursed the sensation, and the agonized 
frustration which it inevitably brought. 

When Dick was alive, they had been ardent and ecstatic lovers. None of the 
conjugal joy which they had found in their youth ever waned or dissipated. 
Instead, it deepened, bringing consummate bliss to their relationship. It 
would not do to let her body remember his touch. 

The recollection could not be stifled, however. Her nipples quivered in 
tremulous erection, their rigid points aching to be fondled. Repeatedly, her 
soapy hands brushed across them, making them tingle with desire. She tried 
to fight it, to stave off the desire which directed her self-caressing 
hands. But it was hopeless. She had been too long without a man. 

Uttering a muffled groan, she filled her hands with the softness of her 
breasts. Hungrily, she squeezed the fleshy mounds, allowing the slickness of 
her lathered fingers to stroke sensuously over their surfaces. Her hips 
rotated rhythmically, carrying the hair-covered hump of her pussy forward 
and back. She bit her lip, knowing where the stroking would lead and unable 
to do anything to prevent it. Her breathing was becoming labored. 

Making a last vain attempt to resist the forbidden urge, she soaped the 
washcloth and began scrubbing herself briskly. But each laving stroke seemed 
to end at her bosom. Involuntarily her fingers nudged at her boobs. 
Unconsciously her palms rippled across the turgid nipples. The hot shower 
water warmed all of the nerve endings of her body, making her even more 
susceptible to the stimulation of touch. Squeezing her eyelids tightly 
together, she pressed herself against a tiled wall of the shower stall in an 
effort to neutralize the heat. 

The cool ceramic felt smooth and soothing against the skin of her cheek and 
breast. But she soon found herself grinding her cunt against it, her 
temperature rising once again. The golden down which lined the prominence of 
her mons was dotted with droplets of shower water, the wiry curls matting as 
she rubbed herself against the wall. Her clit was already beginning to 
swell, the hot rivulets of water which washed across its vibrating surface 
heightening her excitement. As though it had a mind of its own, her hand 
stole between her body and the wall, seeking the moist warmth of her vaginal 
slit. 

She and Dick used to make love in the shower sometimes, his hands caressing 
her lovingly each time their lips fused. Now, as her finger burrowed between 
the thick lips of her pussy, she envisioned his body. It had been lean yet 
muscular, and coated with a curling layer of masculine hair. She could 
almost feel it against her as the tip of her finger played with the 
sensitive flanges of her cunt. She could almost taste him as her knuckle 
grazed gently over the nubbin of her clit. Unconsciously, she bent her knees 
to allow the probing digit to enter. 

The air in the stall was steamy and heavy, bathing her body in a sensuous 
aura of passion. She felt her heartbeat quicken as her breasts became firmer 
and more pointed under the tingling shower spray. All her organs tingled 
erotically in response to her desperate masturbating caress. 

One finger had already found its way inside her vulva as far as the first 
knuckle. Cupping her pubic mound, she rubbed her clit with her palm while 
she penetrated the yearning slash. At the same time, her other hand moved 
idly over her body, caressing her breasts, stroking her inner thighs, and 
petting her smooth flat belly. The soap and the washcloth were forgotten. 

Turning slowly to face the shower once again, she allowed its fluid heat to 
bathe her self-caressing form. Short groans of excitement issued from her 
throat as she plundered the depths of her own cuntal canal. Her eyes were 
tightly shut, her mind filled with visions of her husband. What a marvelous 
cock he had been blessed with. What happiness he had given her with it. How 
fulfilled he had made her feel. Trying to duplicate its girth, she slipped 
two fingers inside her. Then three. 

Her cunt had grown tight from frustrated disuse. She could feel its flanges 
clutching at the probing digits as she worked them in and out. But it wasn't 
enough. With her other hand, she lifted her breast toward her lips, trying 
vainly to kiss her own nipple. Then, when only a fraction of an inch 
prevented the contact, she thrust out her tongue, lapping hungrily at the 
swollen nub. 

Deep in her heart, she felt ashamed of what she was doing; embarrassed by 
her clandestine masturbation. But she was a woman, and her body's needs 
could not be denied. Gasping as her pussy swallowed her plundering hand, she 
proceeded to give herself what she so urgently needed. 

Her fingers fluttered from one boob to the other, twirling her puckered 
nipples as she cupped the fullness of her tits. Her cunt had opened fully to 
the exploration of her hand, the clit standing up tall and stiff to command 
her attention. 

Opening her eyes, she looked down at herself. The sight of her naked body, 
speckled with droplets of water and flushed by the steamy flow, excited her 
even further. Deliberately, with eyes wide open, she withdrew her hand from 
her vulva and arched her back. The needle spray of the shower jet beat at 
the sensitized tissues of her loins, massaging her button of pleasure and 
making it throb. Extending her middle finger, she began to stroke its little 
pink head. 

Staring down through the cleft between her breasts, she watched the swollen 
button rise even higher as it reached for the ecstasy which her self-loving 
finger offered. 

She sighed as she worked at it, overcome by the much needed pleasure. But 
her hand felt clumsy. Awkward. She had done this many times since Dick's 
passing, but she had never learned to be comfortable about it. 

Dick had always known how to relax her, how to turn her body on while 
calming her mind. His fingers had always touched her cunt at just the right 
time and in just the right places. His lips had always sucked on her nipples 
with just enough pressure and just enough tenderness. As she rolled the pink 
caps in the fingers of one hand, his picture filled her mind. 

If only she could hold him once more. If only she could take his cock in her 
hand and play with it, stroke it, love it. As her fingers glided in and out 
of her cunt, she imagined his organ swelling and pulsing under her touch. 

She remembered their first night together on the ranch. Everything had been 
wonderful then. They had been so happy. Dick was as excited as a little boy 
with a new bicycle. He showed her joyfully around the house, saving the 
bedroom for last. Then, when they were inside it at last, he undressed her 
with passionate hands. 

His penis had been stiff and swollen, as strong and as hard as an iron bar. 
She fondled it gently at first, her fingers tightening to pull harder and 
harder as her excitement mounted. Then, suddenly, Dick pushed her hand away 
and fell to his knees before her. Looking down in aroused anticipation, she 
watched as he pressed his face to her loins, burying his nose and lips in 
the fur of her pussy. She felt the heat of his breath caressing the tissues 
of her vulva as he kissed and nibbled at its flanges. Then, slowly, his 
tongue began to work on her. 

She felt it slide delicately in and out of her palpitating opening. A little 
at a time, the pink and trembling lips drew back for him, presenting his 
tongue with the savor of her inner cunt. Tangling her fingers in his hair, 
she pulled him tight against her, forcing his lingual probe deep into her 
sweltering twat. His hands gripped her buttocks, pulling the front of her 
body tight against his pussy-loving face. She felt his fingertips stealing 
between the fleshy gloves of her ass-ckeeks as his tongue delved deeper into 
the pit of her vaginal chasm. 

"Oh, Dick," she moaned as her hands whipped her juices to a froth. For the 
moment, she forgot that she was a woman who had been sleeping alone for two 
years. For the moment, she was with her husband--her beloved Dick. It was he 
that she felt slipping into her as her fingers penetrated the cuntal opening 
to bathe luxuriously in the fluids of her love. Her clitoris, stiff and 
hard, jabbed at her palm as she rubbed it. Her nipples, turgid and erect, 
shone pink at the peaks of her titties. 

"Love me, Dick," she sighed softly. "Love me." She squeezed at her bosom, 
the roughness of her passionate hands increasing her fervor. Her pelvis 
rotated drunkenly, a slave to her driving digits. With the tip of her thumb, 
she plucked at her clit. Each time she stroked it, a low whining gasp 
escaped from her lips. 

Her hand began to move more rhythmically now, her fingers sliding in and out 
of her crack like a stiff and tapering tongue. It was Dick's. It was in her 
again, tasting the spicy arousal of her feminine musk. Faster and faster she 
pistoned, her fingertips scissoring as she drove toward her cervix. Her eyes 
were closed tightly once again, her face washed by the shower's flowing 
waters. She was so close. So close to release. 

She could feel his tongue tunneling between the cloying walls of her pussy, 
plowing back the resilient membranes to seek the core of her sex. Deeper, 
deeper it probed, approaching the magic button which would set off her 
explosion. When it came, when at last it came, it would be magnificent. It 
would explode like a Roman candle inside the cavity of her skull; a bomb 
bursting hotly in the crater of her cunt. 

Harder and harder she strained, her fingers working rhythmically inside her 
as her body pumped and ground. The tissues of her vulva were becoming red 
and irritated by the desperate thrusts of her knuckles, but the irritation 
was arousing her even more, bringing strangled sobs of desire from her 
wheezing lungs. Her hips rocked back and forth in the age-old rhythm of 
intercourse. While she fucked her own hungry pussy, her other hand reached 
unconsciously for the security of her husband's swollen cock. But all it 
could find was the stiffness of her own tormented nipples. With a vengeance, 
she twisted and tweaked them, her head spinning with the eroticism of 
sensuous pain. 

Her whole body was undulating, her cunt a flag which flapped and waved in a 
gale force wind. It sucked at her fingers voraciously, threatening to 
swallow them into the heated hollow of her reproductive system. She was 
tense, her taut muscles vibrating uncontrollably under the pleasuring of her 
cunt-diddling digits. "Oh, Dick," she sighed softly. "Suck my pussy." 

She tried to exclude all thought save the memory of his loving face. But 
inside, she knew that he was gone; realized that the fantasy was only 
invention of her lonely mind, a shame she had created to save her from the 
shame of wanton self-stimulation. It wasn't his tongue that was in her, it 
was her finger. It wasn't his body she was stroking. It was her own. 

With a sob of frustration, she looked down at herself once again. Her tits 
were heaving pathetically as her hand brought pleasure with artificial 
passion. Her pussy was grinding rhythmically in circles, her fingers 
plundering the forbidden depths of its dark dank interior. 

For a moment she feared that she would lose the excitement which had been 
building; that she would remain desperate and frustrated through eternity. 
But somehow she managed to close her eyes once again, recapturing the memory 
of her husband and glorious lover. His tongue had found the point of her 
clit and he was lapping it affectionately as her juices flowed. His fingers 
were at work on her tits; stroking, petting, rubbing, and caressing. Her 
nipples swelled even bigger under his loving exploration. Her cunt flowed 
like a river of joy. 

She lowered herself to a squatting position, the spreading of her shapely 
thighs pulling the lips of her vagina further apart. like a caged she-demon, 
Karla fucked herself, each probing stroke bringing a strangled groan from 
her throat. In her imagination, she was holding her husband's penis. 
Somehow, her shame had been buried for another few moments. 

The organs of her system were working overtime to produce a river of fluid 
which would free her mercifully from the tension of sexual solitude. She 
felt a rising surge of power flooding through her vitals, drenching her 
pussy in heat. The desperation of her response began to overcome her. She 
stood poised on the brink of total demolition. The sound and the spray of 
the shower had faded from her awareness, leaving her alone with the magic of 
her thoughts and the stroking of her hands. In her mind, she and Dick were 
together again, climbing the ladder of ecstasy. As she reached the top-most 
rung, she felt his arms circling her, his lips kissing her in a thousand 
places at once. Finally, she succumbed. 

Her climax rinsed all the frustration from her soul, suspending her 
weightless in the care-free world between heaven and earth. She felt total 
and complete, if only for a fleeting instant. Dick was with her. They were 
cumming together. 

But such ecstasy couldn't last. Slowly the waves of pleasure which rocked 
her quivering frame began to subside. For a moment, Dick's image was 
replaced by another. And in that instant, the world came back to her. Dick 
was gone. It was Sterling she had seen. Paul Sterling, the man she was to 
have dinner with. Shame and humiliation returned to her heart. Her eyes 
misted. Turning to face the shower head, she began to soap herself swiftly, 
as though washing away some unctuous but toxic chemical. 

Quickly she bathed, stepping at last from the stall to begin toweling 
herself briskly. She felt guilty about what she had done. But she felt even 
worse about the image she had seen in her final moment of ecstasy. In her 
mind, she had been unfaithful to the memory of Dick. 

It was bad to live so long without a man. It led to thoughts which were 
better left alone. 

When she was dry, she rushed quickly to her room, anxious to be dressed 
before temptation struck again. She dabbed a bit of perfume between her 
breasts before slipping into her bra and dusted her loins with powder before 
donning her panties. Only after she had put on the pants outfit did she stop 
to look in the mirror. She looked good. It was nice to get dressed up again. 
It made her feel like a woman. 

She worried for a moment about how to wear her hair. Then she decided to 
leave it loose. She brushed until her arm was tired and then went down to 
the living room. 

Gretta was there with an overnight bag in her hand. 

"I'm going to spend the night with Mary Frawley," the teenager said, without 
looking up. Then, glancing at her mother, she squealed girlishly, "Oh, Mom," 
she said. "You look beautiful. All dolled up for a date." 

Karla laughed, "Date?" she said. "Don't be silly. This is business. Strictly 
business." 

 CHAPTER TWO 

"One moment," Sue Bennett said, examining her scarlet fingernails 
critically. "I'll see if Mr. Stone is in. Who shall I say is calling?" 
Waiting for the answer, she clicked the hold button on her desk-top 
switchboard and went back to filing her nails. Mr. Stone was in, all right, 
but it was a cinch he wasn't taking any calls. He and his partner, Mr. 
Sterling, had been arguing all afternoon. 

Punching another button, she returned the phone to her ear and said, "I'm 
sorry, Mr. Stone is in conference. Would you like to leave a message?" She 
wrote the caller's name and number carefully, trying not to smudge her nail 
polish. When she hung up, she returned to the manicure. 

Inside, the argument was going hot and heavy. She couldn't help overhearing 
it. It seemed that the partners had one every time Mr. Sterling came into 
the office. It was a good thing that he only came in one day a week. 

Not that she cared. She always considered real estate something that was 
over her head. In fact, she felt that way about business in general. She 
would much prefer to have been at the beach, or riding in a sports car down 
a country road. But Dave Stone was a good boss. He paid her well, and didn't 
make her work very hard. In fact, he expected very little of her. Except, of 
course, when no one else was around. Then he expected everything. But she 
didn't really mind that at all. 

Mr. Stone wasn't handsome, exactly. But he wasn't bad looking either. He was 
about five foot eight with a stocky solid body. His black hair and neatly 
trimmed moustache gave him a determined and masculine look. And the slight 
limp with which he walked made him appear quite distinguished, in spite of 
the ruthless glint in his eyes. 

His voice, which was gruff and unpolished, could be heard through the thick 
oak of his office door. "Damn it, Paul," he was shouting at his partner. 
"It's easy for you to stand the loss, but I've got everything tied up in 
this. I'm not a lawyer with a big practice like you. All I have is this 
deal. If we can't start building in three weeks, I'll lose everything." 

His partner was calmer, although his voice too sounded agitated. "Listen, 
Dave," he said. "Sometimes you've just got to take your losses and go on to 
the next venture. If the lady won't sell, we can't buy, and that's all there 
is to it. You should have negotiated with her before you bought up all the 
surrounding property. The geologists' report says she's got the only decent 
drinking water in that part of Nut Valley." 

"That's why we've got to have her place," Stone fumed. "I'm not ready to 
give up yet." 

"Neither am I," Sterling responded. "I'm taking her to dinner tonight. I'm 
going to offer her top dollar. More than her place is worth, if necessary. 
I'm sure I can convince her to sell." 

"Maybe you can," Stone said, his voice suddenly gentle and controlled. 
"You're a sharp lawyer. Everybody knows that. That's why I asked you to be 
my partner on this deal. Maybe you can change her mind." 

Sue had no idea of what they were talking about, but something about Mr. 
Stone's tone made her curious. She wasn't accustomed to hearing him speak so 
softly, or sound so reserved. Usually, he was harsh and unyielding in his 
fights with Mr. Sterling. He must have something up his sleeve. Holding her 
breath, she strained to hear more, but the ringing phone shattered the 
silence. Shrugging, she composed her face into a smile and reached for the 
receiver. 

"Stone and Sterling," she answered musically. "May I help you? One moment, 
please. I'll see if Mr. Stone is in." Stabbing the hold button, she looked 
up in time to see Paul Sterling leaving Stone's office, briefcase in hand. 

"I'll see you next week," the handsome lawyer said, flashing her a friendly 
smile. Then, with a wave, he walked out into the street. 

Returning her attention to the phone, Sue stabbed an intercom button and 
said, "Mr. Stone, there's a Mr. Ted Cooper on the phone. He won't say what 
it's about." 

"I'm not taking any calls," her employer's voice growled from the receiver. 
He sounded angry again, and very masculine. Sue's heart began to pound as he 
barked his next command. "Get rid of him," Stone ordered. "And get your 
pretty ass in here right away." As an afterthought, he added, "Don't bother 
to bring your steno pad." 

She felt her temperature rising. Mr. Stone was a very passionate man, and 
when something was upsetting him he could be a tiger. Then, nothing could 
calm him down. Nothing except a good torrid fucking. Her hands were already 
beginning to shake. 

"Mr. Stone will have to get back to you," she said into the phone, not even 
bothering to wait for a response before returning it to its cradle. Removing 
a mirror from her purse, she checked herself quickly in it. With practiced 
movements of her fingers she smoothed her flaming red hair into place, the 
fuck haircut which she wore making it easy. Pursing her lips, she moistened 
them with the tip of her tongue. Although she never used lipstick, her mouth 
was full and lusciously red. 

She blinked her brown saucer eyes rapidly, watching her long curling lashes 
flutter. Then, returning the mirror to her bag, she rose, pushing back her 
chair as she stood. With a sensually fluid movement, she ran her hands over 
her petite but large-breasted frame. Her ties felt full and heavy in the 
chambers of her bra. Her waist felt waspishly slim. Her wide hips were built 
for fucking. Patting her skirt-covered pussy, she stepped out from behind 
her desk and headed for his office. At the door she hesitated for a moment, 
letting the desire which flooded her body simmer anxiously. Opening it 
slowly, she stepped inside. "Yes, Mr. Stone," she said girlishly. Her 
eyebrows were raised to give her sultry eyes a look of mock-innocence. "Did 
you want to see me?" she asked. 

Stone swallowed hard, his eyes devouring her undisguisedly. Without 
speaking, he stared at her, a muscle at his temple twitching involuntarily. 
He licked the dryness of his lips with a slow and studied gesture. "Come in 
and sit down," he said brusquely, indicating the chair at the side of his 
desk. 

Sue closed the door behind her and walked to the seat. It was low and slung 
back so that it would reveal the thighs of any woman who sat in it. When Sue 
Bennet flounced to the cushion, she managed to hike her skirt all the way up 
to her hips. She looked casually at a painting on the wall, aware that her 
boss' eyes were glued lustfully to the exposed crotch of her panties. 

She had ordered the underpants from a Hollywood catalog, especially to 
tantalize Mr. Stone. She knew that he liked his goodies to come in pretty 
packages. This pair was extremely brief, barely covering her strawberry 
pubic hair. The material was a soft satiny pink, trimmed with the daintiest 
red lace. Embroidered at the center of its narrow crotch band, right on the 
spot where the taut material stretched across Sue's pouting pussy, were the 
kissing lips of a sensuous mouth. 

She heard Stone's breathing quicken and glanced at him out of the corner of 
her eye as she rearranged her legs to point her crotch at him. His nostrils 
were flared, his skin beginning to flush. As though unaware of his 
attention, she idly stroked the skin of her own inner thigh, beginning at 
the knee and working upward. When her fingers came to rest on the 
satin-covered cleft of her vagina, she heard him sigh. Turning to smile 
sweetly at him she said, "Did you want to give me dictation, Mr. Stone?" 

"No, he said without changing his expression of lust. "I want you to take 
off your clothes." 

Sue's olive skin was beginning to glow. "Whatever you say, sir," she 
croaked, trying to continue her coquettish little game. But all that came 
out was a whistle. She sensed his hunger for her. She felt the heated 
vibrations which emanated from his body. The effect on her was potent. The 
fluids of her cunt were beginning to flow, drenching the seductive garment 
which hugged her heated loins. Her nipples were swelling, making the cups of 
her bra feel even more confining. She was having trouble catching her 
breath. 

Suddenly unable to meet his searing glance, she looked down at herself and 
began undoing the buttons of her clinging white sweater. When the top two 
were undone, she could see the lacy top of her crisp white uplift bra. She 
knew that he could see it too. The sound of his wheezing breath told her 
that. Still not looking up at him she opened the rest of the buttons and 
shrugged out of the sweater. 

The bra was deeply veed in the front, and constructed to push her already 
voluminous breasts up and together. Her cleavage was thus accentuated, 
forming a deep and shadowy valley of secret pleasure. Filling her lungs with 
air, she thrust her tits forward. It excited her to be exciting him this 
way. 

In a hurry to show him more, she reached behind her to unhook the strap of 
her bra. Immediately, it fell away, cast off by the springing resiliency of 
her now-unfettered bosom. Her tits were full and spherical, each capped with 
a luscious rosebud nipple. As the room's air conditioned atmosphere washed 
over her partial nakedness, they stirred to fuller erection. The nubbins 
were thick and round, with aureolar discs the size of silver dollars 
surrounding them. As David Stone's glance caressed them longingly, the rigid 
centers stood up stiff and tall. 

Sue felt her pussy slavering with desire. like her tits, it too longed to be 
free. Rising from the chair, she shook her shoulders slowly side to side, 
making her weighty boobs swing like a pair of lusty pendulums. 

Turning slowly in place, she basked in her employer's admiration, allowing 
his eyes to study her wordlessly, and giving his imagination a chance to 
heighten his arousal. 

She began to toy with the tab of her miniskirt's zipper. In a series of 
teasing staccato bursts, she tugged it downward, letting the material of her 
skirt fall open. Looking directly into his eyes, she peeled the garment over 
her hips, stepping out of it as it dropped to the floor. Clad only in skimpy 
panties, she ran her fingertips over her body. 

As her hands cupped her tits, she stared pointedly at the crotch of his 
trousers. Stone, who was standing now, seemed totally enveloped in lust. His 
cock was so hard that it lifted the front of his pants, tenting them 
significantly. His stocky frame was tense, all his muscles flexed as his 
body hungered for the feminine softness of her nudity. Forgotten was the 
relationship of secretary and employer. All that mattered now was the lust 
which her naked presence generated. 

"Would you like to see the rest?" she asked in a husky whisper. Stone nodded 
silently, the twitching muscle in his forehead beating out a savage tempo. 

Coyly, the nearly nude redhead hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her 
briefs. She knew that in a few moments he would be in control again, 
dominating her with his maleness as he stabbed into her with the hardness of 
his prick. But for a little while longer she could lead him; playing him 
like a fish, using her womanly body as bait. So long as her pussy remained 
shrouded by the satiny fabric of her undergarment, the promise of what was 
to come hold him spellbound. She reveled in her temporary control. 

But her cunt longed for a different kind of satisfaction. It wanted to be 
penetrated; to be stretched by the brutal thickness of his massive rod. She 
could wait no longer. With a gracefully arcing movement of her wrists, she 
stripped the skimpy briefs from her loins, baring all to his torid gaze. 

Stone's hand was moving absently over the tented prominence of his penis, 
stroking the turgid staff through the material of his pants. An expression 
of lustful excitement passed over his face as his eyes devoured the luscious 
ripeness of her cunt. Caressing her pussy with her fingers, Sue rubbed 
gently until its delicate flowers petaled open. Advancing slowly toward his 
desk, she slipped one tapering digit into the moistness of her cuntal crack 

Stone drew his breath in sharply as his secretary unzipped his fly and 
opened his belt. He remained silent as she slid the pants and shorts down 
his hairy and muscular legs. But when her long and graceful fingers closed 
gently around the length of his throbbing staff, he moaned. The sound made 
Sue's vaginal liquids gush. She grasped him tighter and pulled his penis up 
and down as she finished undressing him. A toneless hum of sensuality filled 
the room as her hands brushed tenderly over his skin. When he was totally 
naked, she stepped back to look at his stocky and well-muscled body. 

"It's a good thing you've got such a sweet cunt," growled Stone, a sneer 
passing over his granite features. "Because you're a rotten secretary." 

The unexpected insult stung Sue like a slap. Before she could recover, his 
hands were on her tits, squeezing them roughly and pulling at her nipples. 
At first the carelessness of his fingers hurt her, making her stomach knot 
with fear. But as he tweaked and twisted her nubbins, they rose to puckering 
erection. He was turning her on. 

Without another word, he pressed his lips against hers, his teeth nipping 
cruelly at the softness of her slightly parted lips. A little sob of pain 
caught in Sue's throat. But the discomfort only served to enhance her 
arousal. The muscles of her vulva flexed rhythmically as her body tingled 
with need. 

His hands were everywhere, squeezing at her tits, clutching at her buttocks, 
and swiping possessively over the mound of her cunt. She lowered her body 
slightly, spreading her knees to allow him entry at her portal. Her blood 
was boiling with excitement. The lips of her pussy were coated with a sheen 
of sizzling juice. 

His fingers bathed in it, spreading the syrupy moisture to the swollen nub 
of her clit and bringing a grunt from her tormented lungs. Lowering his 
head, he began chewing at a nipple, gnawing harder in response to her 
passionate cries of pleasure-pain. Two of his fingers were scissoring inside 
of her now, galvanizing her naked young body to action. 

She was undulating wildly, her cunt rising and falling against the brutal 
caress of his hands. "Oh, fuck me, David," she gurgled, all reserve thrown 
to the winds. "Put your cock in my cunt and fill me with it." 

"I will when I'm ready," he spat, refusing to relinquish control. "First I 
want a taste of that pussy of yours." Taking his hands from her cunt, he 
pushed her back suddenly, so that she lay across his desk with her buttocks 
balanced on its edge. Her legs, thrown wide apart in sensuous desire, 
dangled over the side, her toes barely grazing the carpet. Giving her 
titties one final squeeze, he knelt between her feet, burying his face in 
the warmth of her vaginal slash. As she felt his tongue spearing deep 
between the flanges of her cunt, she howled in desperate yearning. 

"Oh, yes," she sobbed, her voice nearly drowned out by the slurping sounds 
which his mouth made as it sucked voraciously at her snatch. She could feel 
him drawing the thickly fleshed lips of her vulva between his teeth, 
nibbling on them just hard enough to keep her on the brink. She tottered 
between ecstasy and agony, glorying in the pain which his vibrating teeth 
brought to her pubis. 

She could feel the juices of her womb flooding her vaginal chasm, soaking 
his countenance with the pungent syrup of desire. Each time his nose bumped 
the vibrating tip of her clit, she shuddered. The sensitive skin of her 
silken thighs crawled with goose flesh. He was pleasing her in a way that 
few men ever had. 

Again and again his long pointed tongue snaked across the length of her 
clit. Its tapering tip sought out each convoluted cranny of sensitivity, 
while its broad pebbly blade slithered wetly over her labia. When he heard 
her croons of excitement, he dipped lower, wetting the nut of her ass hole 
before continuing his lingual exploration of her pussy. 

Beside herself with arousal, she threw her legs over his shoulders and 
encircled his rhythmically bobbing head. Tensing all the muscles of her 
thighs and calves, she pulled him more tightly against her and began 
rotating her hips. She was climbing higher and higher up the ladder to 
fulfillment, and knew that in a moment the world would be exploding around 
her. "Oh, David," she sighed. "I'm going to cum." 

Sadistically, Stone pulled away from her. "like hell you are," he snarled 
curtly. "You won't do anything until I say so. Now turn around." 

Sue's body was shaking with desire, so close to completion that she could 
think of nothing else. Mindlessly, she obeyed him, getting to her feet and 
turning her back as he had commanded. like a rag doll, she allowed him to 
turn her, his hands pushing and pulling her body until she was bent over his 
desk, her melon breasts squashed against its smooth mahogany top. The wood 
felt cool against her feverish skin, but nothing could lower her 
temperature. His hands were already on her buttocks, lifting her ass a bit 
higher, moving her slightly to the left. His fingers tugged at her thighs, 
spreading her legs to ease the entry for which he was preparing. 

She could feel the head of his swollen fuck-rod scuffing against her 
ass-cheeks as he moved up behind her. Then, his hands took her hips in a 
vise-like grip, pulling her back against his turgidly pulsating staff of 
desire. For a moment, its bulbous head foundered in her genital-anal 
crevice, as though undecided on which course to take. Without guidance from 
his fingers, it found its way to the flowering opening of her vulva. 
Lowering the weight of his muscular body onto her spread-eagled form, he 
eased the organ into her opening. 

She felt the walls of her pussy rolling back before his massive plow. At 
first, she felt filled by its head, her cuntal orifice closing snugly around 
it as it forced its way inside. But the heat of her passion relaxed the grip 
of her genital muscles, and he easily drove another third of his tool into 
the breach. 

"Oh, David. Oh, David," she wailed, the sounds of her supplication muffled 
by the desk top which pressed at her face. His cock in her twat felt so good 
that she wanted to scream. But she was too weak from the joy which mounted 
within her to make any but the softest of sounds. He humped powerfully 
against her, driving more of the rigid weapon inside. At last, she felt his 
pubic hair scraping at her ass. He was in all the way. 

Almost at once, his hips began pumping in and out, stroking the length of 
his penis with the undulating tissue of her inner cunt. His cock was 
swelling, filling with the hot cargo of gism which his nuts had been 
producing. She could feel it stretching the elastic fibers of her vaginal 
canal, increasing the friction of their copulating combination. She was 
poised once again at the brink of explosion. But something held her back. 

Then Stone leaned over her, burying his face in the fragrant softness of her 
flaming red hair. Reaching around her body, he filled his hands with the 
flesh of her titties, squeezing steadily to increase her sexual tension. 
"Now you can cum," he whispered coarsely. "Now, while I fill your pussy with 
juice." 

Sue felt the heat of his semen flooding her belly and, at once, her passion 
overflowed. It was as if his words pulled the stopper which had been holding 
back her response. She was free now, free to loose the tension of her 
excitement. 

like a chorus of bestial howls, their cries of passion filled the room as 
higher and higher they rose in the whirlwind of orgasmic climax. Each 
surging pump of his hose-like member brought a rippling gush of secretions 
from her womb. Each thumping drive of his pile driving prick brought a 
shimmering burst of blinding light to her consciousness. 

For what seemed like forever, they remained tied together, connected by the 
shaft of his sperm-spewing cock. Even after their excitement had been spent, 
they remained sprawled across the desk. Then, as though nothing significant 
had taken place, Stone pulled his flaccid penis from her hole and began 
gathering his clothes. 

"Get Ted Cooper on the phone for me right away," he said suddenly. His voice 
had become cold and business-like. He didn't even look at her. "If Sterling 
strikes out tonight, I may have a job for him. It never hurts to have an ace 
up the sleeve." Although Sue had not left the room, it was obvious that he 
was speaking to himself. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

"I'm so glad that you're not angry about my refusal to sell," Karla said, 
seating herself on the couch next to Paul Sterling. She handed him the drink 
which she had just finished pouring and took a sip from her own glass. "Your 
partner, Mr. Stone, got very upset when I turned down his offer. I was 
afraid that you might feel the same way." 

"Stone is a little pushy at times," Sterling admitted, frowning. "But I'll 
straighten him out. I admire you for wanting to hold on to the property, and 
as far as I'm concerned, all talk of sale is finished." 

A wistful expression came over Karla's face as she looked into his eyes. 
"Dick and I always dreamed of having a place like this; a place where our 
daughter could grow up free and clean. When he died, I promised myself that 
I would stay here and keep it going. I owe it to Dick. And to Gretta." 

"I think it's wonderful," Paul said, moving a little closer to her. "And I'm 
glad we got the subject out of the way over dinner. Because ever since we 
finished talking about business, I've been having a terrific time. You're 
really quite a woman." 

Karla felt her face blushing at his complimentary remark. Mr. Sterling was 
very handsome and charming. And it had been so long since she had been with 
any man, that his kind words embarrassed her somewhat. But they also made 
her feel good-very good. Paul had been gentle and attentive ever since he 
first picked her up this evening. She had known that he wanted to buy her 
property, and thought, at first, that he was just buttering her up. But even 
after she made it clear that she would not sell, he had continued their 
conversation with enthusiastic sincerity. 

She had talked all through dinner, telling him about her life. Once or 
twice, when she spoke of Dick and the love they had shared, she felt her 
eyes fill with tears. But Paul was understanding. Taking her soft hands in 
his, he had soothed and comforted her, managing to make her smile, and even 
bringing a laugh from her throat. He was very witty and articulate. Karla 
couldn't remember any time within the past two years when she had felt so 
good or had so much fun. 

After their lavish and sumptuous dinner, they had gone to a quiet cocktail 
lounge to continue getting acquainted. There the atmosphere was soft and 
romantic. They sat at a corner table, sipping wine and listening to the trio 
that played in the background. Paul told her of some of the amusing cases 
which he had handled, keeping her thoroughly entertained. Even while they 
were dancing, their conversation continued. Karla felt almost as though she 
was making up in one evening for her two long years of loneliness. 

When Paul drove her home, they were both reluctant to say good night. In a 
spontaneous attempt to make the evening last just a little bit longer, Karla 
invited him in for a drink. Without hesitation, Sterling accepted. 

Now, as they sat together on the couch, Karla was beginning to feel nervous. 
She hadn't been alone with a man since her husband died, and wasn't sure of 
how to handle the situation. The sudden moment of silence which fell between 
them frightened her in an eerie kind of way. She searched her mind 
desperately for something to say; some words with which to fill the void and 
mask-even from herself-the thoughts which were swirling through her head. 

Suddenly Paul's arm, thrown casually over the back of the couch, loosely 
encircled her shoulders. For a moment, she felt panic rising in her breast. 
But the mellow tone of his voice put her at her ease once again. "You know, 
Karla," he said softly. "I really want to get to know you better. I hope 
that we'll see other again." 

The attractive young widow swallowed hard, at a loss for words with which to 
answer him. Then, suddenly, his lips met hers. For a moment she remained 
motionless, uncertain of how to react. Almost involuntarily, she began to 
return the pressure of his lips. 

They kissed lightly, experimentally, as though neither person was sure of 
where the contact would lead. Gradually, however, the ardor of their embrace 
increased. Karla felt her breath becoming labored as the energy of desire 
flowed from mouth to mouth. It had been so long since she had been held by a 
man. So long since she responded to a masculine caress. She heard a soft 
moaning sound, and realized that it was coming from her own throat. 

Both of Paul's arms were around her now, pulling her gently against him. Her 
hands pressed flat against his chest, as though she had stopped in the act 
of pushing him away. She felt tense, her muscles taut, her nerves straining 
for control. But as he kissed her, she felt herself relaxing. "Oh, Paul," 
she murmured when the contact was broken. "I don't know if I.. . " 

But he was kissing her again, not waiting for her to finish the sentence. 
This time she responded at once, her arms snaking around his neck. Clinging 
to him as though drowning, she tasted the manly flavor of his mouth. The tip 
of his tongue was darting between his lips to play at her gums. She felt her 
heartbeat quicken as they soul-kissed. Clumsily, as though she had forgotten 
how, she met the thrusts of his tongue with her own. 

For a long time they kissed, their tongues dancing hungrily from one mouth 
to the other. Her eyes were tightly shut, blocking out the arousing sight of 
his attractively molded features. But a vision of his face filled her brain. 
She felt weak and confused, unsure of what to do next. 

Breaking the kiss, she turned away, unwilling to let him see her. Her skin 
had flushed pink, her entire body suffused with a moist and crawling warmth. 
She knew how much she needed male companionship, but somehow she felt 
guilty. Holding and kissing him this way made her feel unfaithful to Dick. 
She had thought it would never happen again; believed that with Dick gone 
there could never be another man. Now, however, she didn't know what to 
think. 

Taking her face gently between his hands, Paul turned her toward him once 
again. There was a twinkle in his crystal blue eyes and the hint of a smile 
playing around his lips. The cleft in his chin and the dimples in his cheeks 
were accentuated by his expression. "Don't be frightened," he whispered. "I 
won't hurt you. I promise." 

"I know that," Karla said, her voice barely audible. "It's just that it's 
been so long. I don't know . . . " Sterling silenced her by kissing her once 
again. 

This time there was no hesitance in his embrace. This time he let his desire 
be known. The strength of his arms and the firm pressure of his mouth on 
hers made Karla feel weak and in need of support. Parting her lips, she 
allowed his plundering tongue to explore the honeyed cavern of her mouth. 

Paul's fingers trailed lightly over the skin of her throat, making her body 
tingle with excitement. Turning his face slightly to one side, he began 
nibbling at her earlobe, his tongue darting out to jab and stroke the 
sensitive tissues. Karla sighed in aroused confusion. 

"Be gentle with me, Paul," she implored. "I'm so frightened." 

"Don't be," he whispered softly. His hands had journeyed lower to pass 
slowly and deliberately over the swollen mounds of her breasts. As she felt 
his fingers exploring her through the material of her top, she shivered. She 
wanted him to stop. But even more than that, she wanted him to go on. 
Kissing her on the lips once again, he began to toy with the button at her 
throat. 

Karla drew her breath in sharply. Instinctively she reached for his hand, 
meaning to stop him. But when her fingers closed over his, she found that 
she could not push him away. When he succeeded in opening the button, she 
guided him on to the next one. And then the next. Her head in a whirl, she 
felt her blouse fall open. His hand moved freely over the well-filled cups 
of her bra. 

"Oh, Paul," she sighed. "Oh, Paul." He lowered his face, gluing his lips to 
the softness of her heaving breasts. Looking down at him, she kissed the 
brown hair of his head, her whole body trembling in excitement. 

His hands were cupping her tits, lifting them higher as his lips trailed 
wetly over their shapely contours. She was growing short of breath. The fear 
which she felt was gradually leaving her, a thrill of anticipation replacing 
it in her heart. When his hand moved around her to begin searching for the 
clasp of her bra, she arched her back away from the couch to assist him. 
Holding her breath as he worked at the snap, she met his lips once again, 
their tongues duelling passionately. When the snap came undone, she sighed. 

Carefully, he slipped his fingers under the cups and lifted the garment away 
from her. For a moment, the material clung to her full and voluptuous flesh. 
Then it fell away, leaving her pink-capped boobs unfettered and totally 
bare. Quickly, he slipped her top off over her shoulders and dropped it to 
the couch beside her. A moment later, he dropped her brassiere on top of it. 

She felt panic returning to her for a moment. But as soon as his lips closed 
over her nipple, she relaxed. He sucked gently at first, bringing one little 
pink nubbin to full and rosy erection before moving on to the next. By now 
her breath was coming in short wheezing pants. Nipping lightly with his 
teeth, he scraped the sensitive tissues erotically. Then, with his tongue 
extended, he lapped long slow spiraling circles around the pebbled surfaces 
of her aureoles. 

Karla sobbed, her fingers tangled demandingly in her hair. Insistently, she 
moved his head from one side to the other while his tongue bathed her 
sensitive titties in heated saliva. "Oh, Paul," she sobbed, her voice 
cracking uncontrollably. "I'd almost forgotten how good that could feel." 

He looked up to smile into her sparkling eyes, the long cylindrical center 
of one turgid nipple still grasped between his lips. With his hands, he 
massaged the softness of her tits, pushing the massive globes together and 
then pulling them apart to reveal the stark whiteness of the pale skin which 
lined the valley between them. 

"Karla," he murmured softly. "I want to help you remember." With fluttering 
fingers, he caressed the bare skin of her belly, working his way lower 
toward the waistband of her pants. With no uncertainty, he began to work at 
the snap which held it together. His intentions were clear. 

The young widow tried to regain her composure, realizing that she had a 
decision to make-a decision which could not be undone once it was made. He 
was about to undress her: bare her body to his view, to expose her most 
private parts to his touch and his gaze. She hardly knew the man. They had 
barely gotten acquainted. But she wanted him! More than she had wanted 
anything in the past two years. 

Her voice soft with uncertainty, she said, "Paul, wait." Then, as he stopped 
to look imploringly into her eyes, she made up her mind. Gretta is away for 
the night," she said deliberately. "Why don't we go to my bedroom?" 

As she spoke the words, she realized their significance. She was committed 
now. She was giving herself to him to end the sexual solitude which had been 
all that she knew since her husband's plane went down. For the barest 
instant, she regretted having said it. But then, as his lips brushed 
affectionately over the skin of her breast, she knew that it had been no 
mistake. 

All at once she was in a hurry, suddenly desperate for his affection. It had 
been so long since she saw a man's penis; so long since she held one in her 
hand. "Please," she said, turning away in embarrassment. "Please, let's 
hurry." 

Without waiting, she rose from the couch and headed for the stairs. She 
could hear his footsteps behind her, but she couldn't quite bring herself to 
turn around and look at him. Running to her room, she threw open the door 
and stopped, waiting for him to catch up with her. An instant later, she 
felt his hand on her shoulder. 

Without any warning, he lifted her into his powerful arms. "Just relax, 
Karla," he whispered. "I want to make you feel good all over." Gently, he 
laid her on the bed. Then he stepped back to look at her. 

Karla felt his gaze playing over like a beam of heated light. It embarrassed 
her at first, causing her to face the wall in an effort to avoid his glance. 
But he just stood there staring at her and waiting for her to look at him 
once again. When she did, he smiled. "You're a very beautiful woman," he 
whispered softly. Just looking at you this way excites me." 

A moment later he was beside the bed and dropping to his knees. His hands 
worked swiftly, tugging and pulling at her pants until they fell away from 
her. Then, with a quick movement of his fingers, he stripped her panties 
from her as well. Without even thinking about it, Karla lifted herself from 
the mattress to make it easier for him. Then she was naked. 

He drew his breath in sharply as he looked at her again. This time she did 
not turn away. Rising slowly from his knees, he unbuckled his belt and 
dropped his trousers. His tie and his shirt followed quickly, leaving him 
clad in nothing but his shorts. The front was already bulging with the meaty 
hardness of his cock. The sight of it made Karla's lonesome pussy salivate. 

"Let me see it," she pleaded. "Let me see all of you." 

Swiftly he removed his shorts, bending over to pull them off over his feet. 
Then, straightening, he turned to face her. His cock was stiff and swollen, 
like a pointed staff poised for battle. It was long and thick, with a head 
that pulsed with desire. Its shaft was gnarled and potent, twitching in his 
anxiety. She could see a thick blue vein beating just beneath the surface of 
its reddened skin. 

Karla wanted to reach out and touch the turgid rod, but she just stared, her 
hands remaining on the mattress beside her. She bit her lip as she caressed 
his manhood with her gaze. His scrotum was full and heavy, hanging between 
his legs like a sack of weighty stones. The reddish brown hair which covered 
it was curly and coarse. One short step at a time, he approached her. 

Each time he moved, his prick bobbed up and down before him, making her 
think of the pleasures which soon they would share. When he reached the side 
of her bed, he leaned forward, touching each of her nipples with the tip of 
his finger. Then, perching on the edge of the mattress he cupped her breasts 
in his hands. 

Her body began to move as though touched with an electrical current. She 
felt his fingers gliding over her in long undulating strokes which began at 
her bosom and did not end until they reached her sculptured ankles. When he 
passed over the mound of her sex, he petted it lightly. As he stroked 
upwards he caressed her inner thighs, spreading them with the gentle command 
of his fingers. 

She made herself flexible, parting her legs to reveal the moistened scarlet 
gash of her hungrily yearning cunt. Placing one hand over its prominence, he 
applied tender pressure to heighten her excitement. She felt her little clit 
spring to attention. The moisture in her twat was flowing in waves, bathing 
his caressing fingers with heated and fragrant dew. Her voice was an 
uncontrollable force which bubbled in her throat, filling the air with the 
passionate sounds of her desire. 

"Oh, yes," she wailed, sobbing impatiently. "Touch me there. Touch me there. 
It feels so good I can't believe it." 

She wanted to hold him, to feel the heft of his prick in her tender white 
hand. But she was embarrassed, afraid to take the initiative. As his finger 
found its way between the lips of her pussy, however, she could resist her 
urges no longer. Reaching for him she closed one hand over the length of his 
tool. It felt strong and manly-even bigger than her husband's had been. She 
explored its dampening tip with delicate fingers, handling the fleshy 
cylinder like a stick of dynamite which could explode at any moment. Slowly, 
cautiously, she traced the shape of its shaft following its masculine lines 
until she arrived at its hair-covered base. 

Emboldened by the smooth touch of his prick, she brought her other hand to 
his loins, seeking the bag of his testes. She rolled them in her fingers, as 
though she had never before touched so wondrous a device. While she played 
with his nuts, her other hand jerked rhythmically on his rod. 

Paul's fingers were plunging into her pussy now, carrying the moisture which 
flowed within it to the swollen bud of her clitoris just above. Leaning 
forward, he kissed passionately at her belly, the tip of his tongue making 
circles around the deeply sunken navel. She was huffing and panting 
bestially, her soul buoying high on the rising cloud of excitement. Drawing 
her knees back, she opened her cunt even wider. The smell of her excitement 
filled the room. 

Allowing her to pull him by the handle of his cock, Sterling lay down beside 
her. He stretched out fully, taking her in his arms to press the softness of 
her womanly body against him. Her breasts flattened, the pointed nipples 
boring searing holes in his chest. His cock jabbed at her lower abdomen. 

Karla felt its tip against her and knew what she wanted now more than 
anything. Reaching between their bodies to take hold of his prick, she 
rubbed its thick and syrupy head against her skin. Moving it lower, she 
dragged its tumid tip through the tangled jungle of her golden pubic hair, 
bringing it to rest for a moment against the quivering nubbin of her clit. 
Then, rolling over to pull him on top of her, she aimed the swollen organ at 
the slit between her thighs. 

Paul supported his weight on his elbows and knees, allowing just the end of 
his magnificent penis to touch her. The lips of her pussy had rolled back to 
welcome the swollen fuck-pole. They were kissing lightly at his head. 
Slowly, a millimeter at a time, he lowered his weight onto her. Karla gasped 
as she felt his cock boring into her cunny. 

It was so much thicker than his finger, and so much stiffer. For a moment, 
she wondered whether she could take all of it into her without screaming. 
But as it drilled deeper, her elastic vaginal muscles adapted to its girth. 
Her cunt closed up tightly around him, increasing the friction of his entry. 
For the first time in more than two years she lost consciousness of 
everything but the overpowering needs of her feminine body. She wanted more 
of him. She wanted all of him. 

Arching her back, she lifted her buttocks above the mattress, her cunt 
reaching out for more cock. Deeper and deeper he plunged. The tissues of her 
inner vaginal cavern parted before his onslaught. It seemed endless. At 
last, however, she felt his hairy pubis scouring at her cuntal mound. She 
knew he was in to the hilt. 

Instinctively, without needing to think of what she was doing, she began to 
rotate her hips. like a creature possessed by its own reproductive drives, 
she threw her pussy up at him, skewering herself on the solid stiffness of 
his prick. She could feel its head bumping bluntly against her cervix, his 
balls caressing the softness of her upturned anal crack. He was filling his 
hands with her tits while his lips nibbled sensuously at her throat and 
shoulders. She hung suspended on a cushion of lust as he lifted her closer 
toward the height of ecstatic fulfillment. 

She wanted the pleasure to continue forever. But she had been too long 
without it. She felt a climax beginning to build almost as soon as he 
entered her. After a moment, she realized that holding it back would be 
hopeless. "I'm going to cum," she whispered. "I can't wait any longer." 

"Don't wait," Paul murmured huskily. "We have the whole night ahead of us. 
And a lot of catching up to do." As he spoke he humped forward, driving his 
lust-hardened cock to its limit in her cavity. Already the warmth of her 
secretions were beginning to bathe his staff. Harder and harder he bucked, 
each thrusting stroke like a tug on the strings of her climax. 

At last it broke around her, filling her body with heated ecstasy and 
drowning all thought. Wave upon wave of orgasmic delight rippled over her, 
wrenching mindless screams of pleasure from her lungs. No longer ashamed of 
her needs, she abandoned herself to them, hardly aware of the river of semen 
which was flowing from his penis. She felt real! Fulfilled! For the first 
time in what seemed like an eternity, she was getting what she needed. 

When it was over, they lay in each other's arms without speaking a word. 
Both of them knew that there was more joy to be had. The night was young. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

"All right," Gretta said impatiently. "You said that you'd show it to me out 
here in the orchard. Now, what is it?" She tossed her soft brown hair 
coquettishly, her pretty blue eyes sparkling as she spoke. 

John Willows looked at her for a moment and then smiled superciliously. He 
was enjoying her suspense, and wanted to make it last as long as possible. 
"Not so fast," he said. "If anybody sees us with this, we'll be in big 
trouble." He peered dramatically through the almond trees, shading his deep 
brown eyes with his hand and brushing back a strand of sandy hair. John was 
tall and muscular, looking at first glance like a man. But he was only 
fifteen, a year older than Gretta. 

"Come on," she said breathlessly. "What have you got?" Her interest was 
obvious in the tone of her voice. She made no effort to hide it. She was 
about to burst with curiosity. She and her boyfriend frequently came to this 
spot in the west orchard when they wanted to be alone. Here they could kiss 
and pet without any fear of being seen. Sometimes, she even allowed him to 
unbutton her blouse, exposing her naked breasts to the air and warm 
sunshine. They had never even come close to being caught. So for John to be 
acting this paranoid, he must have something really good to show her. 

When he had stretched out the moments of waiting as long as he possibly 
could, John turned to face her again. "Here," he said. "Let's sit on the 
ground by this tree." As he lowered himself, his back against the 
rough-barked trunk, he took a paper back book from his pocket. 

"A book?" Gretta sputtered. "Big deal! We've looked at books before. Why did 
you make such a fuss about it?" Her hands on her hips, she stood glaring at 
him defiantly. She knew that she looked sexy in her tight white shorts and 
vee necked halter top. She could tell by the way he was staring at her, his 
eyes flitting anxiously over her bare midriff and thighs. 

Gretta was tall-even taller than her mother. Her figure was lithe and 
youthful, with breasts that had already begun to develop and hips that were 
girlishly flared. 

She felt her boyfriend's gaze lingering on her titties. It made her feel all 
warm inside. 

John grinned smugly. "This is no ordinary book," he said. It's got pictures 
in it. All kinds of pictures." 

Gretta's expression of sophisticated indifference faded at once. "You 
mean...?" she began. 

"Yep," he said. "Definitely rated 'X'. 

"Ooooh. How did you . . . Where did you get it?" she stuttered. With her 
adolescent curiosity aroused, she sounded like a child in spite of her 
deliciously curving figure. 

"I found it in the bunkhouse," John answered. "Right after the Mexican 
migrants left." John's father was one of the most important tomato growers 
in the Valley, and farm life was as natural to the boy as hay is to horses. 
There was much to be learned from the land and its cultivation. But there 
was something to be learned also from the itinerant field workers his father 
hired to help with the planting and harvesting. "What are you waiting for?" 
he asked. "Why don't you sit down and look?" 

Gretta dropped to the ground beside him at once, snuggling close and rubbing 
her shoulder against his. John put his left arm around her, holding the book 
between them with his right. "Here," he said. "You turn the pages." 

Gretta was captivated by the cover. On it was a photograph of an attractive 
long-haired woman. All she was wearing was a pair of filmy panties which 
barely covered the obvious shadow of her crotch. The rest of her was fully 
exposed. The young teenager's eyes widened at the sight of the woman's 
breasts. They were huge-the size of melons. The nipples were a dark, dark 
brown, and totally distended. Emblazoned in red across her middle was the 
book's title, FREE WOMEN. 

Gretta looked quickly down at herself, automatically comparing her own 
adolescent titties with the boobs in the picture. Hoping John hadn't 
noticed, she looked surreptitiously up at him. His eyes seemed to be glazed 
as he stared the photograph. He was almost unaware of his pretty 
girlfriend's presence. 

"The pictures inside are even better," he mumbled, his voice husky with 
excitement. "There are men and women together." 

Gretta felt her little nipples hardening inside her bra at the thought of 
what she was about to see. She had heard about books like this, but until 
now the most pornographic thing she had ever seen was the centerfold of a 
magazine which John had once showed her. The woman in that picture also had 
big boobs, but the expression on her face had not been as wanton as that in 
the picture on the book cover. 

Her hands trembling, she opened the book. The very first picture which she 
saw in it shocked her. There were a man and a woman in it, lying on a 
rumpled bed. The man didn't seem to have any clothes on, although the woman 
was lying across his groin and abdomen hiding his genitals from view. The 
woman was clad in bra and panties, but the bra had been unsnapped and pulled 
back to expose her tits. Her head was pillowed on the man's shoulder, her 
face wearing a beatific smile. 

One of his arms was around her, his hand loosely cupping her breast. From 
between his fingers, Gretta could see the nipple. It was fully erect. The 
other one was just a hard, although he wasn't even touching it. His free 
hand was thrust into the front of her panties which he had succeeded in 
pulling down far enough to expose a band of thickly curling pubic hair. The 
woman's legs were spread apart, and Gretta was sure that she could see his 
finger in her cunt right through the filmy crotch band. 

"Wow," she said softly. She was having trouble catching her breath. If she 
had been able to take her eyes from the picture, she would have seen that 
John was too. Her lips felt very dry. She licked them nervously. 

"Turn the page," John whispered. "The next one's even better." As he spoke, 
he drew her close to him. The tips of his fingers grazed lightly at the 
swollen contour of her booby. For the moment, he would attempt to go no 
further. 

The next photo was of the woman on the cover. In this one, she was seated on 
a table fully naked and facing a large mirror. Her knees were drawn up and 
back to expose the hair-covered gash of her vagina. The fingers of one of 
her hands framed the puckered opening, while the other plunged between its 
lips. The sight shocked Gretta. 

"Oh, my God," she muttered, gnawing nervously at her lower lip. 

"Yeah, ain't that something," John said softly. 

Gretta breathed deeply, unable to speak. She had never seen anything so 
obscene in her life. 

"Did you ever try that?" her boyfriend asked, a little shyly. 

Gretta's face reddened. "John Willows," she gasped. "How could you? What a 
thing to ask." 

"Well, did you?" he repeated persistently. "I thought we tell each other 
everything." 

"Some things are just too personal," the pretty teenager retorted. She knew 
that she would answer his question. She wanted to. The conversation was 
making her all dewy inside. She swallowed hard. 

"I've done it," John confessed quietly. 

"Lots of times." 

Gretta giggled. "How could you?" she asked. "You don't have a . . . " 

John laughed. "No," he said. "But I've got what I've got. And I've played 
with it lots of times. Now how about you?" 

Gretta looked away, suddenly interested in a squirrel which was shelling an 
almond on the branch of a nearby tree. "Me too," she said at last, almost 
too softly to be heard. "But never in front of a mirror." She could hear her 
boyfriend's breathing quicken, and suddenly she wanted to tell him more. 

"Sometimes," she said, looking him right in the eye, "I take off my pajamas 
at night and lie naked on my bed. Then I run my hands all over my body. I 
touch myself here, and here, and here." As she spoke, she pointed first to 
her breasts, and then to her belly, and then to her inner thighs. She 
watched John's eyes following her every move. 

"Then," she continued. "When it feels so good that I think I can't stand it 
any more, I touch myself here." This time, she cupped her pubic mound 
quickly with her hand. Suddenly unable to face him, she turned away again, 
her hand remaining at her crotch. John was wheezing softly. 

"What happens then?" he asked quietly. 

But Gretta took her hand away from her tingling pussy and returned it to the 
book. "I think we'd better turn the page," she said, her voice pitched 
somewhat higher than usual. With a vain attempt at nonchalance, she riffled 
pages, stopping at random at a full color photograph. 

There was three people in this one: two men and a woman. The woman was 
seated between the men on a couch. All three were naked. The woman's knees 
were spread, her huge winking eye of a cunt staring out at Gretta and John. 
The breathless teenagers stared right back. 

She was holding the cock of the man on her right in one hand. It looked 
brutal and huge, mesmerizing Gretta. What captivated her most, however, was 
what the woman was doing to the other man. Bending over him her tits 
dangling onto his hairy thighs, she was sucking his penis deep into her 
throat. The man's face wore an expression of ecstasy, as though he had left 
this earth to go on a long astral journey. 

"How gross," Gretta murmured, still not taking her eyes from the erotic 
photograph. "How could anyone do something like that?" 

John's gaze was also riveted to the page, although he had seen these 
pictures several times already. "What do you mean?" he asked absently. 
"Making it with two guys at once?" 

"No," she answered. "That must be fun. I meant sucking on his thing that 
way. I could never do that." 

"I once heard my dad say that that's something only a prostitute will do," 
John said softly. He stopped to clear his throat and lick his dry and 
cracking lips. 

But Gretta was so fascinated by the photo that she hardly heard him. At 
last, she turned the page again, anxious to know what other perversions 
would be pictured. She felt all trembling and warm. A hot tingling current 
seemed to be emanating from her loins. Her tits felt flushed with blood and 
swollen to twice their normal size. She wondered if John noticed. Her pussy 
was itchy and wet, some of its moisture spilling out to dampen the crotch of 
her panties. She hoped that it wouldn't show on her tight white shorts. 

As she focused on the next full color picture, she felt John's fingers move 
to the strings which tied her halter shut at the back of her neck. His hands 
were shaking, and she knew that he was as aroused as she. Nervously, she 
looked around the orchard. Except for the squirrel, they were completely 
alone. Heaving a sigh, she cuddled against him as he removed her top. "My 
bra," she whispered. "Take off my bra too." 

John's trembling fingers struggled at her back in search of a clasp. "Damn," 
he muttered in frustration. "What's the combination to this thing?" 

Gretta giggled. "It's in the front, silly," she said. While her boyfriend 
watched, she reached for the snap at the center of the band which held her 
bra's cups together. Twisting it slowly, she worked it open, the garment 
falling apart to reveal the whiteness of her conical breasts. 

Short of breath, her boyfriend peeled the wispy underthing from her. Then, 
with a strangled groan, he buried his face between the twin mounds of her 
tits. "Oh, Gretta," he sighed. "I love touching your titties." 

"I love it too," she murmured. "Play with them while we look at the 
pictures." 

Intrigued by her suggestion, John sat up again, taking her boobs in his two 
hands. He petted and stroked them clumsily, his fingers brushing across the 
swollen tips of her rosy nipples. She almost forgot about the book. Then, 
flipping its pages, she stopped at another obscene picture. 

In it a man and woman were sitting together on the edge of a bed, their arms 
around each other. The woman was totally naked, the whiteness of her breasts 
stark against the tan of her midriff and shoulders. The man beside her wore 
only his trousers. There was a drink in his hand. The woman, her eyes 
staring deeply into his, had unzipped his fly and extracted his penis. It 
was long and thick, engorged with heated blood and bloated with desire. Its 
head was full and swollen, shaped like the cap of a giant edible mushroom. 
Gretta hummed softly at the sight of the oversized organ. 

"Oooooh," she said, a note of awe in her voice. "He's really got a big 
thing." 

John snorted. "A really big what?" he demanded. "You mean his prick?" 

"His prick," she echoed in a whisper. The sound of the dirty word fascinated 
her, sending chills of passion through her youthfully yearning body. "A 
really big prick." This time she said it louder and without hesitation. Its 
sound seemed to caress her throat. 

"Shit," John replied. "It isn't so big. You ought to see mine." 

Gretta felt a rush of heated excitement pass through her body. It seemed to 
start in the center of her puckered little pussy and gush like a fountain 
through her entire being. She had felt John's cock up against her once or 
twice, when they embraced. And once, she had even stroked it through his 
pants. But she had never let things go any further. Now however, the thought 
was simply too appealing to resist. 

"Show me," she said deliberately. 

For a moment, a look of surprise passed over John's face. Then, before the 
mood could be broken, he undid the buckle of his belt and opened the front 
of his pants. His cock was tangled in the fabric of his brief white 
undershorts, and he reddened with embarrassment as he struggled to work it 
free. Finally, he slipped his jeans and shorts down over his hips, and his 
long youthful prick sprang into view. 

Gretta gasped at the sight. "Oh, John," she murmured in a daze. "It's so 
huge. And so hard." Her hand, as if acting on its own accord, reached out 
for it. But when her fingers were just a fraction of an inch away, she lost 
her nerve and stopped in mid-grab. Gingerly, she stroked the throbbing 
organ's smooth white underbelly with the tips of her extended fingers. Her 
boyfriend gasped, and began cupping her breasts once again. The picture book 
fell forgotten to the grass. 

Gretta's hand seemed to gain confidence as her fingers tightened hungrily 
around the shaft of his pulsating staff. She could feel the little veins 
which crisscrossed its length, throbbing against the smoothness of his 
youthful organ. Experimentally, she glided her hand up and down the length 
of his tool. 

She felt weak; dizzy. Her head was filled with the sound of celestial 
harmony as the rhythm of her heart matched the beating of his palpitating 
cock. Its surface was moist and slick with the oozing secretion of his 
testicles. The fluid sheen lubricated the movements of her fingers as they 
tremulously masturbated his prick. 

Slowly, with curiosity, she explored its unfamiliar contours. It was so 
long. So stiff. She played with the swollen purple bulb which was its head, 
stopping to ring her thumb and forefinger around the ridge which circled its 
crown. Her tender cunt cringed as she imagined it being invaded by so 
massive an instrument. 

Cooing quietly, she stroked and petted the pale young penis. She could feel 
it swelling still larger under her finger's ministrations as its tissues 
filled with the heated blood of passion. The sounds of desire which bubbled 
from her boyfriend's throat, the acrid aroma of his arousal, his uninhibited 
response to her digital manipulations-all heightened the need which was 
building in her pubescent body. She wanted him to be touching her too. She 
wanted to experience some of the pleasure which was making him croon this 
way. She wanted his hand on her at the same time that her hand was on him. 

While she jerked and pulled on his dick, she opened the front of her shorts 
with her free hand. John let go of her tits to cover her hand with one of 
his. She could feel him shaking as he realized that she was undressing for 
him. When her shorts were un-snapped, she stopped and looked into his eyes. 
Her own were glazed with lust. 

"Touch me, John," she said passionately. "Touch me like I'm touching you." 
Moving her hand downward, she punctuated her plea with a gentle squeeze of 
his scrotum. 

Biting his lip, John pushed and tugged at her shorts, working them 
laboriously down over her hips and buttocks. Then, practically tearing them 
as he pulled them from her ankles, he slipped his fingers into her white 
cotton panties. They tangled briefly in the thick and cushiony pillow of her 
cunt hair. Then he began pulling down her drawers. 

Gretta held her breath as her most intimate body orifice was exposed to her 
boyfriend's burning view. Her hand still clutching at his prick, she looked 
down to see her panties slip away from her cunt. The rush of air which 
warmed and caressed her puffy labia made her moan in shimmering excitement. 
His hands trembling uncontrollably, John placed them both on her hairy 
mound. 

All at once, Gretta felt the fluids of desire rising in the cup of her 
mound. His fingers were on her, petting the prominence of her mons; dipping 
into the honeyed cleft of her slit. It felt better than anything ever had 
before. She wanted him to know it. Placing her lips to his ear, she 
whispered, "Oh, John, that feels so good." She began jerking at his cock 
once again. 

Turning his head, John pressed his lips against hers and buried his tongue 
in the velvet softness of her throat. She sucked voraciously on it. Somehow 
the touch of his hands on her pussy had inflamed her basic instincts. No 
longer a rational person, she had become a bundle of cravings; an exploding 
nebula of emotion. Leaning back, she lay on the ground, spreading her legs 
to make her cunt open up to him. Joh lay beside her, rubbing his stiff and 
aching cock against the skin of her naked hip. As his fingers began to enter 
the warmth of her vaginal cave, she threw her arms tightly around his neck, 
pressing his face to her youthfully pointed tits. 

The inexperienced boy kissed the fleshy mounds noisily, making circles 
around the pink and turgid caps. Then, propelled by the instinct which keeps 
humanity alive, he wrapped his lips around one swollen nipple and began to 
suck. His middle finger had slipped into her cunt as far as the first 
knuckle, and Gretta thought she would die from the pleasure. The lips of her 
virginal opening closed tight around the plundering digit as though trying 
to exclude the ravager. But the tightness increased the friction of his 
entry and inflamed her excitement. Arching her back, she lifted her pussy up 
against him, driving another inch of finger into the crack. It felt too good 
to stop. 

"Stick it in deeper," she murmured huskily. "It feels wonderful." 

John grunted passionately and did as she bid him. With a rippling moan of 
excitement, he buried the full length of his finger in her syrupy slash. She 
felt the palm of his hand pressing flat against her pubic mound and rotated 
her hips to press firmly against him. Her teenaged clit was swollen and 
sensitive, making each little movement a thing of ecstasy. 

She could feel the tip of his penis pressing tightly against her thigh as he 
moved his body against her. Reaching for him, she took the swollen staff in 
her hand once again and began pulling it up and down. She tried to match the 
tempo of her masturbation with the rhythm of his finger as it slid in and 
out of her cunt. She drew her knees back-like the mirror-woman in the 
picture book-and looked down at herself. She could see the hair of her cunt 
curling brown around the whiteness of his hand. And she could see the 
shining juices of her femininity coating his skin with a patina of 
excitement. Shifting her gaze, she looked at his loins. 

His cock was a throbbing red pole, twitching and thumping under the loving 
touch of her fingers. Gleaming at its tip was a glistening drop of fluid. 
With her fingers, she spread it over the distended mushrooming prickhead. As 
she did so, she felt the organ jump. Clutching it tightly, she massaged its 
burgeoning girth. The sight of her fingers curling around the manly tool 
inflamed her. 

She felt her little cunny salivating, pouring its juices over the hands 
which stroked and explored it. She was so hot she could almost smell smoke. 
Shutting her eyes tightly, she allowed herself to be lifted like a curling 
wisp hanging on the currents of desire, sailing the crest of her adolescent 
yearning. A volcano was erupting inside her, filling her with the white heat 
of its flowing molten stone. She could hear the air around her snapping and 
sizzling as she neared the point of explosion. 

John's penis was galloping in her hand, its tubes filling with the liquid 
product of his loins. She sensed that something was about to happen to both 
of them. Then it did. 

The young prick began spitting, spewing its cargo of semen in a series of 
long curvings arcs through the air. Gretta even felt some of the heated 
moisture splatter onto her naked skin. It felt warm, and slick, coating her 
with its erotic viscosity. At that moment, her own river started to flow. 

In a series of rollicking explosions, the dynamic virginal orgasm overtook 
her. It was un-like anything she had ever experienced at her own 
masturbating hands. Un-like anything she had ever experienced in any way. It 
was magnificent. 

Flames of passion licked at her libido, heating the tissues of her climaxing 
cunt to crackling intensity. Each movement of his pussy plundering finger 
heightened her pleasure. Spiraling shock-waves of orgasmic sensation flooded 
her being. "Oh, John," she moaned. "I can't believe what's happening. Oh, 
John." The rest of her words were lost in a long blabbering moan. 

Her boyfriend's fingers continued pistoning into her pussy long after her 
orgasm was finished. Finally, as his prick softened, his movements glided to 
a stop. Side by side on the ground, they lay in silence, each lost in the 
newly discovered world of sexual ecstasy. Finally, Gretta opened her eyes. 

Everything looked hazy. At first she thought that her vision had been 
blurred by her experience. Then she realized that the air was full of smoke. 
All around her, almond trees were being consumed by flame. Leaping tongues 
of yellow heat danced from branch to branch and from tree to tree. 

"The orchard," she screamed. "The orchard is on fire." 

John sprang to his feet, grabbing for their clothes. In an instant, both of 
them were dressed. She was in a panic, not knowing what to do. Running from 
tree to tree, she tried to beat out the flames with her hands, but John 
pushed her away. 

"It's too late for that," he shouted. "I'll turn on the irrigation 
sprinklers. You go call the fire department." His voice sounded firm and 
authoritative. Somehow it gave Gretta direction. 

"Be careful, John," she called. But he was already running toward the pump 
house. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

"No, I do not have an appointment," Karla said to the white-haired secretary 
in Paul Sterling's law office reception room. A trace of anger was evident 
in her voice. "But I'm certain he'll see me. My name is Karla Thompson." 

"He's with a client right now," the secretary answered, her tone 
professionally pleasant. "Why don't you have a seat and I'll tell him you're 
here." 

Clenching her teeth, Karla perched on the edge of a leather chair against 
the wall. She glanced impatiently around her at the tasteful furnishings of 
the office. The floor was carpeted with a thick and cushiony oriental rug. 
Several original oil paintings decorated the mahogany-paneled walls. The 
lighting was indirect, but there was ample illumination throughout the room. 

On a small wooden table beside her were several magazines. Picking one up, 
Karla began leafing through it idly. But though her eyes were on the 
pictures in the pages before her, her mind was not on what they saw. She was 
furious; ready to give Paul Sterling a piece of her mind. 

When the fire department official called her this morning, she had been 
shocked by what he had to tell her. The fire in the west orchard had been 
started with gasoline. The fire marshal scolded her like a child, telling 
her to be more careful in the future. When she suggested the possibility of 
arson, he only laughed. But Karla knew that the fire was no accident. She 
and Gretta never kept gasoline in the orchards. They had discussed it many 
times. Safety was always a kind of fetish with her. 

Somebody started that fire deliberately, no matter what the fire department 
thought. And there was only one conceivable reason. A certain real estate 
company named Stone and Sterling wanted her land. The property was valuable 
to them, and they were determined to make her sell. They must have been 
responsible. She just wanted to scream. 

At least Stone had been honest about it. He admitted that he wasn't ready to 
give up when she rejected his first offer. But Sterling! That louse! He had 
tricked her, conned her. When she said she wouldn't sell, he pretended to be 
understanding. He even said he admired her. Then he seduced her, taking 
advantage of her loneliness to lure her into bed with him. He even pretended 
to like her. Then, when that didn't work, he set fire to the orchard. 

She felt tense, her muscles tight like the strings of a violin. She didn't 
know what she would say to him, how she could express the anger which she 
felt. So lost was she in her reverie, that she didn't notice him step 
through his office door. She wasn't aware of his presence until he was 
standing directly in front of her. 

"Karla," he said. "I'm so glad to see you. How did you know I was back?" 

Karla looked up, bewildered by the sudden return to reality. Paul was 
smiling warmly, his even white teeth flashing. He really looked happy to see 
her. 

Suddenly she knew that she had been wrong. He could never have been mixed up 
in anything like that. He was too nice; too good. He genuinely liked her. 
She could tell. 

"Oh, Paul," she said, her lower lip trembling. "I just don't know what to 
do." Her eyes were beginning to fell with tears. 

"I've been out of town," he said with concern. "What's wrong? Tell me what's 
wrong." As he spoke, he placed his arm lightly across her shoulders. His 
very touch comforted her. "Come inside," he said softly. "And tell me all 
about it." Then, turning to his secretary, he said, "No calls or 
interruptions until further notice, please." Quickly, he led Karla into his 
office, closing the door behind them. 

Karla felt terrible. How she had misjudged him. It was obvious that he knew 
nothing about the fire. How awful it would have been if she accused him. 
Suddenly, no longer able to hold back the flood of emotion, she began to 
sob. As Paul guided her gently to the couch, she cried openly. Sitting down, 
she buried her face in her hands. 

In an instant, he was beside her, drawing her face to his chest. For a 
moment, he said nothing, stroking her hair comfortingly as she wept. Then he 
said in a firm but gentle voice, "Now stop crying and tell me what's wrong." 

Karla looked up at him. Gradually she managed to bring her sobs under 
control. At last, she dabbed with her knuckle at the tears which remained on 
her cheek and, breathing deeply, she started to speak. "Somebody tried to 
burn my orchard," she said. "Gretta and her boyfriend were almost caught in 
the fire." 

Paul's brow knitted in concern. "When did this happen?" he asked. "And what 
makes you think someone did it deliberately?" 

"Yesterday," she answered. "Late in the afternoon. When the fire marshal 
called this morning, he said that it was started by gasoline igniting near 
some of the trees. He thought it was our fault." 

"Are you certain that it wasn't," Paul asked gently. There was a note of 
lawyer-like professionalism in his tone. 

"Paul, I know that it wasn't," Karla answered with determination. "We're 
very careful about gasoline. It's kept only in the equipment shed. We would 
never leave it in the orchards." Her voice was cracking with emotion, her 
eyes sparkling with righteous anger. "Somebody did it deliberately. I just 
know it!" 

"Who would want to hurt you that way?" he asked. 

Karla's face flushed with shame. For a moment she turned away, staring at 
the floor. Then she looked back into his eyes. "I hate to admit it," she 
said, hesitantly. "But when I first came up here, I thought it might be you 
and your partner." 

Sterling looked stunned. "Karla . . . " he began. 

She interrupted him. "I realize now that I was wrong," she said. "I feel so 
guilty about having even thought it. It's just that your partner was so 
adamant about buying my property." Her voice trailed off. 

Sterling gripped her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "Stone is a ruthless 
businessman," he said. "And he does want your place very badly. But I'm 
certain that he's completely legitimate. I'm sure he wouldn't stoop to those 
tactics. But I'll talk with him, I promise. You mean a lot to me, Karla. And 
I wouldn't want anything to happen to you." 

She was already beginning to feel better. It had been so long since she had 
anyone to share her troubles with. So long since anyone cared. Paul's 
strength and his reason gave her a comforting feeling of security. She could 
lean on him. She was no longer alone. 

"How much damage was done?" he asked. 

"About ten acres," she answered sadly. "The entire west orchard. At least 
half the trees were burned out completely. And the nuts on the ones that 
remained were all water-damaged. They'll rot on the trees before they 
ripen." Her hands started to shake, her voice beginning to quaver. She knew 
that she was about to cry again, and wanted desperately to hold it back. But 
she couldn't. Then the dam broke, and she was sobbing once more. 

Moving closer to her, Sterling took her in his arms. Hugging her gently, he 
pressed his lips to her eyes. A moment later he was kissing her. The touch 
and warmth of his embrace made her feel sheltered and secure. Still sobbing 
quietly, she turned to meet his lips with her own. They kissed softly, the 
warmth of their emotion passing freely between them. Gradually, the mutual 
pressure increased. Karla felt her unhappiness turning to passion as his 
tongue glided over her lips. 

"I'm falling in love with you, Karla," he whispered. 

"I know," she responded. "I feel it too." Her answer startled her. She 
didn't know she felt that way until that moment. In a flash, her tension 
melted, all her muscles relaxing. She was safe. She was in his arms. 
Pressing her body against him, she drew strength from his presence. 

Paul's hands were moving over her, caressing her back through the smooth 
material of her blouse. She felt her skin starting to tingle in response. 
She knew that she wanted him. Her nipples were already rigid as her mind 
flashed on the memory of the pleasure he had given her the first time they 
were together. 

"I want to make love to you, Karla," he whispered. "Right here! Right now!" 

His words took her breath away. Her cunt was all warm. She could feel 
moisture oozing through its tunnels. She looked into his eyes without 
speaking. But her answer was clear. 

"Lie back and let me love you," he murmured. As he spoke, his fingers undid 
her buttons expertly. In a moment he had removed her blouse and was 
unsnapping her black lace brassiere. A moment later, her pants had been 
slipped off over her legs. And her panties. She was naked. It felt 
wonderful. 

Submitting her will to him totally, she yielded to the gentle pressure of 
his hands, lying back on his comfortable office couch. In silent yearning, 
she watched as he removed his jacket, tie, and shirt, holding her breath 
when he stepped out of his trousers. She was a little disappointed when he 
left his undershorts on, but the feeling left her when he dropped to his 
knees beside the couch to press his lips to her mouth. 

As he kissed her, his hands meandered over her naked body, stroking and 
caressing her electrically tingling skin. His touch was feather-light. Its 
tantalizing flutter brought her nerve endings closer to the surface, 
heightening all sensation. Then, as she warmed to him, he began to massage 
her more firmly. She felt his palms and fingers traveling skillfully over 
the muscles of her arms and her legs. As he rubbed her, she relaxed even 
more. It felt so good. So comfortable. He kneaded the flesh of her thighs, 
his fingers working deep into their fiber. Each rotating movement brought 
him closer to her vertex, to the hair-covered slit of her vulva. But though 
he skirted its puckering prominence with his fingertips, he refrained from 
making direct contact. She could feel her vaginal lips puffing outward, 
blossoming like a flower in the hope of attracting a bee. 

He rubbed her abdomen, pressing outward toward her hips with each expert 
stroke. Her breasts heaved and bobbed as his caresses approached them. Her 
nipples were so hard that they ached. Fluidly, he cupped the fleshy mounds, 
squeezing them gently in his muscular fingers. Karla gasped, overcome with 
pleasure. Her nipples, like a pair of flaming embers, burned into his palms 
as they swelled in hungering lust. 

The blonde woman's eyes were shut tightly a stream of melodious moans 
issuing from her throat. When Sterling's fingertips closed over her rosy 
nubbins, she bit her lip. Lovingly, he tweaked and twisted them, adding fuel 
to the furnace of her desire. Then, he moved his hands away, running his 
fingers softly over the silky skin of her chest and shoulders. 

Karla sighed in contentment as his hands moved attentively over the nudity 
of her body, exploring her with love. He traced the lines of her tits and 
the arcs of her ribs. He ran his fingertips in little circles around the 
crater of her navel. He nudged softly at the pits of her arms. He stroked 
the outer curves of her bosom. 

The widow was in motion, now, her hips rising and falling rhythmically. Her 
heels dug into the couch, her fingers gripping its material. She wanted to 
shout her passion to the world, but miraculously, she kept it contained. 
Only a low animal hum of desire gurgled from her throat. Paul's lips found 
her nipples, and were trailing wetly from one to the other. She could feel 
him burrowing in the valley between her tits, his tongue tip caressing her 
sensitive skin. His hands grasped her hips while his head moved lower, his 
lips kissing their way across the plane of her belly. She could feel them 
pressing against the hair-covered mound of her pussy. 

Her clit was rigid, its pink head poking out from its protective sheath. 
When his lips brushed tenderly across it, she grunted in emotion. The tip of 
his tongue curled out to caress the little button. Her hips began waving 
from side to side as he tongued and lapped her center of pleasure. Then, 
moving onward, his tongue plunged into the depths of her vagina. 

She felt her consciousness lifting on a billowing cloud of sensuality. Her 
twat was open wide, sucking his tongue deep into its confines. His mouth 
worked at her pussy, drawing thick rolls of pink flesh between his teeth. He 
licked and he lapped at the convoluted membranes, his tongue-tip discovering 
caves within the caves. Karla couldn't remember ever having experienced so 
much pleasure or excitement. He was strong, and it felt good to abandon 
herself to him. 

She could feel the heated length of his tongue plundering deep into her 
cunt. She could hear the expressions of delight which bubbled from his lips. 
As he lapped her cuntal orifice, his nose brushed lightly over her clitoris, 
doubling her thrill. Wrapping her legs around his head, she pulled his face 
more tightly against her. She turned off her mind and allowed herself to 
drift downstream into the world of sensuous bliss. 

When her cunt was dripping with the heady combination of his saliva and her 
love juice, he moved his tongue lower. Delicately, he flipped its tip over 
the sensitive nut of her anus. With a moan, she bucked against the prying 
organ. Slowly, deliberately, he worked his lingual probe into the rubbery 
tightness of her rectal depths. She sobbed in excitement. 

As he reamed her ass hole with his tongue, his fingers re-explored her 
drooling quim. Crossing his index and middle fingers, he skewered them 
inside while this thumb sought the hardness of her clit. Pressure was 
building in her loins. Each time his tongue pistoned deeper in her ass hole, 
she lifted her pubis up toward the heavens. Each time his thumb tweaked the 
quivering button of her clitty, she rocked back against his face. The 
knuckles of his scissoring fingers were warming her twat till it felt ready 
to boil. The combination was too much for her to stand. 

"Oooooooohhh, Paul," she moaned. "I think I'm going to . . . " He pulled his 
tongue from her anus and swept it across the long puffy slash of her cunt. 
Then he whipped it in circles around her little love button, bringing the 
last word from her throat in a gasp. "Cuuuuummmmm." 

She felt wave upon wave of orgasmic solution flooding the passages of her 
cunt. She heard his tongue slurping through it, lapping up the precious 
juice as though it were the elixir of life. Crashing crescendoes of sound 
blasted deafeningly in her ears. Swirling patterns of light blinded her with 
their brilliance. The world was shattering, bursting into pieces and flying 
off into infinity. She howled her joy to the universe, heedless of anyone 
who might hear. 

Sterling worked with a frenzy to keep her energy flowing. Over and over, the 
broad blade of his tongue stroked her clit. Again and again his lips 
fastened to her labia, pressing hotly against her lust-moistened membranes. 
Taking her clit into his mouth, he sucked gently on it, rolling its spheroid 
head with the tip of his tongue. She couldn't be sure when her first climax 
had ended and the next one was beginning to rise. It was incredible. All 
reality had changed into a phantasmagoria of delight. 

Her excitement was building anew. This time, however, she did not remain 
passive. Reaching for the bulge at the front of his shorts, she pressed her 
fingers to it. It was as thick and straight as a lodge pole. Instinctively, 
she clutched it, pulling up and down through the fabric of his briefs. At 
last, clumsily, she exposed it by tugging at his elastic waistband. 

It was a magnificent penis, stiff and swollen with desire. Wrapping her 
fingers around its length, she pulled roughly at it. Thick droplets of goo 
worked slowly from the distended slit at its tip. Experimentally, she dipped 
her fingertip in one of them and carried it to her lips. As Sterling 
watched, she tasted its flavor. Then her hand returned to his staff. 

Paul removed his shorts and stood up straight for her to see. Covering her 
hand with his own, he jerked the massive organ with her. His other began 
fingering her pussy once again. Slowly, she pulled back her legs opening the 
reddened slash in lustful invitation. 

She watched in hypnotized silence as he knelt between her legs on the couch. 
His cock stood out before him, leading the way to her cunt. Breathlessly she 
waited as its head scuffed her inner thighs. Then, when its dewy cap was so 
close to her twat that she could almost feel its heat, she reached for him 
again. Paul placed his hands alongside her shoulders, allowing her to direct 
his cock into the warm and fragrant pit of her pussy. Slowly he lowered 
himself, dipping his pulsing glans in the warm honey pot of her sex. At last 
her cunt felt the stretching presence of his entry. She placed her hand on 
his naked chest. 

He was muscular and strong, the masculine contours of his pectorals exciting 
her as her fingers explored his bare skin. His nipples were small and dark, 
each ringed by a thatch of auburn hair. Lovingly, she took them in her 
fingers. She felt the leathery tissues respond to her at once, his nipples 
hardening under her touch. Looking into his eyes, she whispered, "Yes, Paul, 
fuck me." 

Her lover smiled serenely, burying another portion of his rod in her wet 
opening. "I'm just beginning to fuck you," he whispered in a voice that was 
thick with desire. With a sudden thrust of his hips, he humped all the way 
into her, sinking his prick to the hilt in her heated vaginal cavity. 
Rolling his ass, he ground against her. The head of his tool scoured her 
inner membranes as it rocked on the fulcrum of her mons. 

Her buttocks lifted off the cushion to press her cunt tightly against him. 
Her tits squashed between them, the rigidity of her nipples raking hotly 
across his chest. Throwing her arms around him, she raked at his back with 
her fingernails. Her legs and his intertwined. 

They moved in erotic unison, dancing a conjugal ballet on his office couch. 
As she rose up to meet his plundering drives, he fell like a stone against 
her. She could feel his pubic bone crash against the mound of her clit. She 
could feel the head of his penis drilling hard against the mouth of her 
cervix. It didn't seem possible, but another orgasm was building. 
Breathlessly, she awaited its arrival. 

In a rhythm as old as the universe, their bodies came together. The copious 
flowing of her vaginal juices lubricated his movements, making his thick 
fish of a cock slide easily down the tubes of her womanhood. In and out it 
flew, the cloying tissues of her cunt clinging desperately on the out-stroke 
and rolling back submissively on the inward plunge. Her juices were foaming, 
coating her buttocks and inner thighs with a froth of passionate desire. She 
could even feel the moisture finding its way into the crack of her ass. 

"Again," she wailed. "I think it's happening again." 

Sterling's voice was a strangled growl in his throat as his cock swelled 
within her. Her cunt was contracting rhythmically, milking his masculine 
organ and sucking him inward. He moved so fast and so hard that his balls 
swung against her, striking her ass with an audible slap. She could feel the 
wrinkled bag of his scrotum nestling momentarily in the canyon between her 
cheeks, then clinging briefly as it swung back and away from her. 

Raising her legs, she encircled his waist with them, her cunt turned up to 
meet his plundering thrust. The heated swamp of her loins threatened to 
swallow him completely. She was panting as their pelvises rocked together. 
His cock seemed to mushroom inside of her, swelling so large that it 
stretched the already-taut fibers of her pussy. Then it spat, pumping its 
lust liquid deep into the well of her womb. She could feel the whirling tide 
cascading against the back walls of her cunt. His ejaculate was warming her 
belly. 

like a reservoir which had finally burst through its floodgates, her orgasm 
began. Rolling currents of hot syrup flowed freely through her, soaking his 
pistoning dick and matting their pubic mounds. The stiff curling hairs of 
their loins stuck together, as though connecting them to complete the union 
of their intercourse. She heard the rhythmic groaning of his pleasure as her 
climax reached a second towering peak. For a moment, all was dwarfed by the 
blinding light of glory. like a tigress in heat, she bellowed her needs to 
the jungle around her. Then she allowed the flood of satisfaction to carry 
her away. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Gretta felt John's hand closing gently over her breast as she kissed him. It 
made her feel warm and comfortable. Boldly, she thrust her tongue into her 
mouth, tasting the sweetness of his saliva. Then, coming up for air, she 
said, "I'm glad we came out here instead of staying inside." 

As she spoke, she looked around at the stately old trees of the south 
orchard. They were heavy with nuts, their long twisting branches bowed under 
the ripening weight. The air was filled with the fragrance of growth. The 
breeze played a symphony through the foliage. 

"I don't know," John responded uncertainly. "With your mother out for the 
afternoon, we could have had the house to ourselves. But out here . . . " He 
looked around in search of prying eyes. 

"Don't be silly," Gretta chided. "Nobody can see us out here. And nobody can 
hear us. We can do the same things that we could have done inside." As she 
spoke, she looked at him seductively, the promise of youthful excitement 
glistening in her eyes. 

"Well, just the same . . . " he began. She silenced him with a long and 
lingering kiss on the mouth. For a moment he was unresponsive, his tongue 
still poised in mid word. But the warmth of her lips against his made him 
forget his objections. Enthusiastically, he returned the tender pressure. 

Gretta ran her hands over his broad shoulders, pulling her body tightly 
against his. Since the day of the fire, her mind had been reeling with 
thoughts of the things they had done together. She had been unable to think 
of anything else. In a way, it was a good thing that Mom was so preoccupied 
with the possibility of arson. Or she would surely have noticed the change 
in her. 

Whenever the teenager thought of the sensations which his hand on her pussy 
had created, she felt weak and quivery. It had been un-like anything she 
ever experienced before. She wondered whether it was something that would 
happen every time, or whether it only happened once. She was determined to 
find out. 

Brazenly, she ground her body against him, her pelvis rubbing across the 
muscular surface of his thigh. She hummed softly as they kissed, the sound 
communicating her desire. When his hands began to move slowly down her back, 
she wiggled her hips encouragingly. 

His fingers wandered freely over the blades of her shoulders and on down to 
the small of her back. She could feel him tracing the curve of her spine 
with his palms. His hands dipped lower. Briefly, he encircled her waist with 
them. Then he cupped the split melon of her ass, holding and squeezing one 
of her buttocks in each of his hands. 

Gretta sighed, working her hips in a tight little circle as his fingers 
stroked her through the taut material of her jeans. It felt wonderful to 
have him touching her this way. It was making her tremble all over. She 
began kissing his throat, nibbling gently at the sensitive skin as she 
worked her way closer to his ear. Then, wetting her lips, she kissed and 
licked his earlobe, thrilling to the moan of excitement which the caress 
brought from his lips. 

"John," she murmured softly. "I want you to hold me like you did the other 
day." 

He stepped back, looking anxiously around once again. She giggled, and he 
grinned sheepishly. Kissing her lightly on the lips, he looked deep into her 
eyes. 

Without averting his glance, he began to undo the button at her collar. 

When it was open, he bent to kiss the white triangle of skin which was 
revealed. Gretta squeezed her eyes shut and moaned at the tenderness of his 
approach. She was anxious for her top to be off. She was wearing one of her 
mother's bras: a sexy wisp of lace which barely held her growing tits in 
place. It was a little big for her, but still it made her breasts look 
fuller and more voluptuous. She knew it would excite John to look at her in 
it. And that thought excited her. 

"Hurry," she implored. "I want you to see me." 

Suddenly she heard a raucous laugh from somewhere behind her. "Yeah, hurry," 
a gruffly masculine voice said. "We want to see her too." 

Spinning instinctively on her heel, Gretta turned to see two men standing 
just a few feet away. One of them was huge and light-skinned, with long dark 
hair and a full beard. The other looked like a Mexican-American. He was 
shorter, darker, and slighter of build. The look of cruelty in his eyes made 
her shiver. 

"Who are you?" she demanded righteously. "And what are you doing on my 
mother's property?" She was beginning to think that her mom might have been 
right about the fire in the west orchard being deliberate. These men looked 
disreputable enough to be guilty of anything. 

Without warning, the Mexican stepped forward and slapped her viciously 
across the face. "Shut up, cunt," he spat. 

"Now wait a minute," John protested, jumping toward him. "You get your . . . 
" But before he could finish his sentence, the burly bearded one punched him 
solidly in the back of the head. The teenager's eyelids fluttered and his 
knees started to buckle. But he managed to keep his feet. 

"What's going on here?" he asked weakly, turning to face the mountainous 
thug. 

The stranger grinned humorlessly, showing a gap where two of his teeth 
should have been. He was dressed in black denim pants and a sleeveless tee 
shirt which was stained with grease and sweat. The muscles of his bulging 
arms were covered with tattoos. One of them consisted simply of the word 
KILL in crude blue letters. 

"Let's fight, turkey," he said after spitting through his teeth. Dropping 
into a crouch, he advanced on John, his arms moving before him like a 
gorilla's. 

Gretta screamed, throwing herself froward in an instinctive attempt to 
protect her sweetheart. But the Chicano grabbed her and put his hand over 
her mouth. "Don't make a sound," he said, tightening his arm around her 
throat. "Or Jose's gonna kill you. Now let's watch Butchie beat up your 
boyfriend." 

The girl continued to struggle, but it was hopeless. The man was strong, and 
he held her in a grip of iron. Tears ran unchecked from her eyes as she 
watched in horror while the big man towered over John. 

"Come on, turkey," he said again, feinting at the youngster's face and 
laughing when John nearly tripped trying to get out of the way. The next 
time he swung, he connected, his knuckles sinking in the flesh of John's 
nose with a sickening thud. The boy's head snapped back with a crack, a 
crimson rivulet issuing from one of his nostril. 

Gretta sobbed and tried to twist out of the dark-skinned hoodlum's grasp. 
She howled in pain as his fingers dug deep into her arms. Roughly, he 
twisted them behind her, wrenching her shoulders agonizingly upward. 
"Ooooooowwwww," she cried, abandoning all resistance. 

Realizing that he hadn't a chance against his powerful assailant, John tried 
to shield his face with his hands, backing cautiously away. But Butchie 
moved in on him, punching him heavily in the body with a series of short 
punishing jabs. Each pummeling blow brought a grunting expulsion of breath 
from the teenager. 

He lowered his hands in a feeble attempt to block the punches, but the 
sadistic attacker changed trajectory, raining a series of hooks and crosses 
to his face. John gasped and staggered back, eyes crossing momentarily. Then 
he tottered and sank to the ground. 

Gretta was weeping softly. Horrified, she watched the tee-shirted criminal 
swing his leg back to deliver a kick at John's chest. When he prepared to 
aim another at the semi-conscious boy's head, she shrieked, "Don't. Leave 
him alone. You'll kill him." 

Butchie looked at her and laughed. "I might," he sneered. "I just might at 
that." Turning away from his helpless victim, he stepped up to wave his 
finger in her face. "Unless," he said leering. "Unless something else keeps 
me amused." 

The one called Jose laughed obscenely in her ear. It was a cackling sound, 
originating at the granite core of his demonic spirit. It frightened Gretta. 
For some inexplicable reason, it frightened her even more than what she had 
already seen them do. 

Letting go of her wrists, Jose placed his hand between her shoulder blades 
and shoved her forward, propelling her into his powerful partner's arms. 
Then, reaching into his pocket, he took out a knife. Its handle was pearly 
white and glistened in the sun. In its center was a shining silver button. 
With an elaborately graceful movement of his wrist, he touched the button. 
Immediately, the blade sprang open. It was razor sharp, its honed edge 
flashing in ugly threat. 

Butchie turned Gretta around so that her back was against him. "I want you 
to see this," he said cruelly. Then, to his friend, he added, "Why don't you 
perform a little surgery, Jose?" 

The Mexican's eyes flashed as he moved menacingly toward John's motionless 
form. The dazed boy's eyes widened in horror, and he stirred slightly. But 
lifting his head seemed to take all of his energy. With a weak sigh of 
frustration, he fell back again to the ground. 

Jose dropped to his knees beside him, pressing the point of his switchblade 
into the teenager's chest. "I could cut out his heart," he said 
thoughtfully. Then, with a snicker, he moved the knife into the crotch of 
John's pants. Skillfully, he inserted its point into the fabric, slitting it 
open to reveal his shriveled penis. John squirmed, but the hoodlum placed a 
knee in his belly to pin him to the ground. 

"Or," he muttered slowly, looking right into Gretta's eyes, "I could cut of 
f his cock." Placing the deadly blade against the pale and puny organ, he 
laughed again-the same eerie cackling sound. "Would you like that, Chickie?" 
he asked, using the weapon to lift the little prick for her to see. "Well, 
would you?" This time his voice was more menacing, and even colder. 

"No," she answered in a voice that was barely a whisper. "Please don't." 

"Then make my friend Butchie feel good," Jose spat. In a shout, he added, 
"Now." 

Gretta began to shake. She realized that she and John were completely at the 
mercy of these crazy men. These animals. There was nothing to stop the 
knife-wielding Jose from butchering John. There was nothing to prevent 
Butchie from beating them both to death. 

"What do you want me to do?" she asked softly, stifling her sobs. 

Butchie released his grip on her, knowing that she wouldn't try anything 
with her boyfriend at Jose's mercy. Flashing a toothless grin, he said, 
"Strip! I want to see you finish what lover-boy started." Then, as an 
afterthought, he added, "And make it slow and sexy. I've got all afternoon." 

Gretta wept openly, sobs of dismay wracking her trembling body. "Why are you 
doing this to us?" she whined. "What do you want?" She couldn't accept his 
command as a reality. This was all too nightmarish. It just couldn't be 
happening. 

But the gorilla's face became hard, his lips drawing tightly together. "Make 
him bleed, Jose," he ordered, shifting his glance to his partner. 

Almost at once, Gretta heard John scream in pain. Turning, she looked down 
at him. There was a long jagged streak of blood on his thigh where the 
Mexican's knife had cut through his pants leg. She could see the scarlet 
flow beginning already, wetting the dark material of his trousers. "No," she 
cried. "Don't hurt him again. I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want." 

"All right, then," Butchie sneered. "Off with the blouse." 

Her hands shaking in terror, Gretta reached for the button which John had 
never gotten to undo. Clumsily, she fumbled with it, trying to work it open. 
But her eyes were filled with tears, blurring her vision. Finally, impatient 
with fear, she pulled until it popped, widening the vee at her throat. 
Without waiting for another command, she tugged at the next one, working it 
open too. 

She knew that her mother's sexy black bra was showing, and she wanted to 
crawl into a hole and hide. The muscular tough was looking straight at her 
bosom and licking his lips. God only knew what he had in mind. Trying not to 
look back at him, she opened the rest of the blouse-buttons. 

The sweater fell open, revealing the graceful contours of her adolescent 
breasts. The bra barely covered their nipples, leaving most of the creamy 
white globes visible. She wanted to cover herself with her hands, but she 
didn't. The speed with which Jose had carried out Butchie's order to hurt 
John drove her onward. These were men to be feared. To be obeyed. Instantly 
and to the letter. 

Shrugging out of the top, she let it fall to the ground. In a quandary, she 
hesitated. What should she take off next? If she removed the bra, her 
titties would be totally uncovered, despoiled by the slimy stares of the two 
thugs. But if she took off her jeans, there would be nothing but her panties 
to cover her sex. And since they too were skimpy, matching the sexy bra as a 
set, most of her pussy would be exposed. 

Butchie was obviously growing impatient, his lips drawing back to reveal the 
gaps in his teeth. "Jose," he said again. But Gretta didn't give him a 
chance to finish the command. 

Reaching behind her swiftly, she undid the snap of her bra and let it drop. 
Now her titties were totally unprotected. Their skin crawled as she felt his 
eyes roving lustfully over them. She wanted to turn and hide, but remembered 
Jose's knife. 

"Nice boobs," Butchie exclaimed, taking a long step toward her. "Give 'em a 
little shake." As he spoke, he reached out, pinching one nipple between his 
thumb and his forefinger. 

Gretta winced in pain. As the little nubbin grew hard, she tried to move her 
shoulders from side to side as she had seen dancers do on television. Her 
firm adolescent tits swung slowly, the nipples inscribing a pair of delicate 
arcs in the air. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and dropping onto them. 
But the hoodlum who stood menacingly before her was unmoved. 

"Drop your drawers," he commanded tersely. "I want to see the rest before I 
decide what to do with you." 

"Please," Gretta wailed. "Why don't you leave us alone? Haven't you degraded 
us enough?" Her chest was heaving with emotion, her adolescent boobies 
rising and falling erotically. 

All Butchie did was glance in Jose's direction, but it was enough to make 
the frightened girl obey him, abandoning all protest. Trying not to think 
about what she was doing, she unbuttoned her jeans and peeled them down over 
her hips. Then she kicked them off, standing practically naked before him. 

The underpants which she wore were so brief that they failed to cover all of 
the light brown hair which ringed her pussy. She could feel his gaze burning 
into her, singeing her cunt with its heat. Mechanically, she put her fingers 
under the elastic waistband prepared to draw it downward. 

But Butchie stopped her. "Leave 'em on for now," he said, perversely. "But 
pull 'em over so I can see your cunt." 

His words stung her like a slap in the face. She wasn't sure of what she 
wanted, but she knew that she had better do her best to comply with his 
demand. Jose was probably itching for a chance to hurt John again. Cupping 
her hand over her panty-covered pubic mound, she hooked her index and middle 
finger into one of the lacy leg-bands. Then, pulling on the diaphanous 
material, she stretched it to one side. Then thin band of cloth bunched 
together, bruising the sensitive membranes of her twat as it tightened 
across it. She could feel the heated summer air washing across her naked 
little cunny. She was mortified. 

"Stick your fingers in it," he commanded. "And tell me how it feels." 

Gretta's blood ran cold. There was nothing for her to do but obey. While he 
watched with bloodshot eyes, she inserted her middle finger into her pussy. 
The tissues were dry, making the entry painful, but she didn't stop until 
the digit was buried to the second knuckle. 

"Well," Butchie asked. "Is it wet?" 

"No," the ashamed teenager answered, looking down at the ground. 

"We'll just have to see what we can do about that," the hoodlum replied. 
Then, his manner becoming business-like and impatient, he said, "All right, 
get 'em off." 

Almost grateful for the chance to take her hand away from her vagina, Gretta 
obeyed, slipping out of the panties and letting them drop to the ground. Her 
cuntlips were pressed tightly together, as if instinctively closing out the 
rest of the world. She felt helpless and vulnerable, standing naked in the 
orchard before this cruel and perverted sadist. 

"Show my pal," Butchie ordered. "And let lover boy get a look, too." When 
Gretta, not understanding what he wanted, failed to respond, he barked, 
"Turn around." 

Slowly, the girl did as he commanded, realizing that she would now have to 
face John for the first time since the hoods had begun tormenting her. She 
tired to avoid his eyes, but she felt them staring helplessly at her. She 
was baring her most private parts to these strangers, while poor John was 
forced to witness the whole thing, with a knife at his groin. He, too, was 
at the mercy of a sadistic criminal. 

The switchblade-wielding vandal's eyes flashed as he appraised her 
developing young body. "You got a nice little girlfriend there," he said 
mockingly to the boy who lay on the ground. "I'll bet she's one hell of a 
beautiful fuck!" 

"You bastard," muttered John, tears of helplessness glistening in the 
corners of his eyes. He tried to struggle to a sitting position, but Jose 
pushed him down without effort. He lay the point of his knife at the 
teenager's throat. 

"I could kill you before you say another word," he hissed cruelly. Then he 
twisted his face into an evil smile. "But this time I'll let you off easy." 
Returning his knife-edge to the flesh of John's prick, he looked up at 
Gretta. "Come here, cunt," he said. "I want to feel your pussy." 

John tried to sit up again, but went limp when he felt the point of Jose's 
knife piercing lightly into his cock-skin. Gretta began to cry. like a 
puppet, she shuffled over to where the bandido knelt. 

When she was within reach, he cupped his free hand and placed it on her 
pubic mound. Gretta drew back involuntarily, but remained within his reach. 
Stiffening his index finger, he thrust it quickly inside. Then, removing it, 
he held it to his nose and sniffed. "Almost ripe," he said, cackling. 

Gretta looked down at her boyfriend, trying to ease his suffering with the 
expression of her eyes. I hate them, she tried to tell him. So the things 
that they do to me don't matter. But her message was somehow not 
communicated. 

"She's still a little dry," the knife-artist said, looking John in the eye. 
You're her boyfriend. You rub it a little bit. Get her warmed up for us." 

The blonde youth was about to refuse when he felt the knife bite into his 
penis. Quickly and without a word, he reached up to pet his girlfriend's 
pussy. It was the most humiliating experience of Gretta's life. They were 
making sport of her while John watched, a helpless prisoner. And now they 
were forcing him to participate in the lustful activity. 

His hand passed over her pussy, trembling with emotion. But as he stroked 
her, his cock began to stir. She could see it rising to partial erection, 
its distended shaft pressing back against the razor sharp blade. Her clit 
became rigid at the sight. 

"See, Butchie," Jose said. "She-likes it. They both like it. Why don't we 
make her suck him off?" 

Gretta's heart skipped a beat. She vividly remembered the picture she had 
seen in John's book of a woman sucking a man's cock. She had never been 
quite able to get it out of her mind. It was gross; disgusting. And now they 
were going to make her do it to John while they watched. How awful! 

But then Butchie spoke, she realized that there was no end to their 
degradation of her. "Why him?" the burly tough guy exclaimed. "Let's make 
her suck me off. I can use a good blowjob. The strip show got me all turned 
on." As he spoke, he pulled down the tab of his zipper, extracting his long 
and sinewy cock. like the rest of his body, it was thick and oversized. Its 
shaft was long and swollen, capped by a huge bulbous head. 

"Tell her to suck Butchie's prick," Jose ordered John, drawing the 
knifepoint lightly over his stiffening pole. The prisoner gritted his teeth. 
He was prepared to endure the most horrible of pain before we would comply 
with this ugly demand. But the Mexican only grinned cruelly. 

"If you don't tell her to do it, I'm going to cut her up as soon as I finish 
with you," he said casually. "First I'll cut off her titties to make a 
couple of stash pouches. Then I'll give her another hole between her cunt 
and her ass. Then. . . " 

John groaned in helpless frustration. "Gretta," he said softly. His voice 
was a hoarse croak which almost didn't get past the dryness of his lips. "Do 
what he said." Then, in response to the angry jab of Jose's knife in his 
loins, he added hopelessly, "Suck his prick." 

The naked teenager sobbed at his words, knowing that there was no other way. 
like a mindless automaton, she turned to face Butchie once again and dropped 
to her knees. The burly hoodlum had opened his pants completely, letting 
them bunch up around his ankles. His cock stood straight out before him, 
throbbing as her lips moved closer to it. 

Gretta tried to close her eyes and blot out the horrible sight, but its 
details remained emblazoned in her memory. She could smell the acrid 
fragrance of his unwashed genital organs. He humped his loins at her to 
bring the tip of his rod to a hair's breath from her mouth. In a moment she 
would be tasting him; feeling the slimy surface of his prick over the blade 
of her tongue and into her throat. She wanted to die. 

Grimly, she thought of what they would do to John if she didn't comply. 
Slowly, she opened her mouth. Her jaw muscles felt all tight and tense, 
permitting her to part her lips only half-way. Butchie moved forward, 
touching their softness with the brutal head of his dick. 

"This is a big one," he said. "Not like that peanut on your boyfriend. 
You'll have to open wider to get this chunk of meat in your throat," 

Gretta forced herself to obey, opening her mouth as far as it would go and 
letting the fat weapon slip between her lips. It was huge-even bigger than 
she had realized. She felt its bulk pressing against her lips, drawing them 
tightly around it. Her mouth gaped as far as her aching jawbone would 
permit. 

The penis tasted salty, its surface remarkably smooth against her tongue. 
Experimentally, she licked at it, trying to lubricate its painful entry into 
her oral cavern. Butchie winced at the lingual contact, drawing his breath 
through clenched teeth. "That's it, baby," he murmured, looking directly at 
John where he lay on the ground. "Lick it with your tongue." 

Involuntarily, the tormented youth groaned. His discomfort amused the 
muscular Butchie, bringing a perverted laugh from his throat. "Hey, turkey," 
he said to the boy. "Did she ever do this for you?" 

John turned away, but Jose regained his attention with the point of his 
blade. "You better answer him, punk," he said menacingly. 

"No," John answered, defeated. 

"Maybe you just didn't ask nice enough," the thug said. "You gotta 
sweet-talk a young cunt like this." Laughing raucously, he said, "Here, I'll 
show you what I mean." Reaching down, he tangled his fingers in Gretta's 
loose flowing hair, twisting as he pulled. Only the thickness of his prick 
pressing against her tongue kept her from crying out. "Suck it deep, bitch," 
he said coldly. "Or I'll put my foot up your ass." 

Jose laughed as the girl struggled desperately to please his partner. Her 
head bobbed spasmodically up and down as she took more and more of Butchie's 
swollen sex staff in her mouth. She could feel the curling hairs of his 
pubis tickling her nose; could smell the tangy residue of the last cunt he 
had been in. When the bulbous knob bumped against her palate, she thought 
she would gag. But she fought the vomit reflex, anxious to be done with him. 
If this went on much longer, she knew she would die of shame. 

Butchie bit his lips as her unskilled manipulations began to take their toll 
on him. She could feel his organ swelling in her mouth, filling her throat 
with the noxious pressure of his excitement. She knew instinctively that he 
was getting ready to shoot his load. The full horror of it didn't dawn on 
her for a moment. Then she realized that she would be forced to swallow his 
sperm. Ugh! 

Recoiling at the thought, Gretta started to pull back her lips. But Butchie 
gripped her tightly by the hair, forcing his weapon even deeper. She felt it 
striking against her tonsils, threatening to choke her with its girth. Then 
the torrent began. 

The first whirling droplets shot from his prick with the pressure of a fire 
hose, spattering hotly against the back of her throat. She sucked 
desperately on his hotly throbbing cock. Tightening her throat muscles, she 
tried to store the hot flowing liquid in her mouth, to keep it from sliding 
down her gullet. But it kept coming and coming. She feared that it would 
drown her, that she would smother in a river of semen. 

Convulsively, Gretta began to swallow, trying to breathe. Her cheeks puffed 
with effort as she forced the disgusting semen down her throat. But it was 
coming faster than she could gulp it down. She felt a trickling flow of scum 
escaping from the corner of her mouth, where she knew John would see it. 

She slaved harder, her throat working to swallow every drop. Again and again 
his cock swelled and spat, pumping an ocean of gism into her belly. She 
thought it would never end. But at last the penis began to soften, the flow 
of joy juice slackening. After what seemed like an eternity, it stopped 
pumping. Butchie loosened his grip, allowing his cock to slip from between 
her lips. 

Taking it in his fingers, he gave it a shake in John's direction. Then he 
looked down to smile obscenely at Gretta. "That wasn't bad for a beginner," 
he said critically. 

"We'll have to try it again some time." Glancing in the direction of his 
friend, he said, "Why don't you give it a go, Jose. Her mouth is nice and 
warm. She'll make you feel good." 

The Mexican rose to his feet, still holding the knife over John. "No, I 
don't think so," he said casually. "Not today, anyway. But I'll get her good 
the next time we meet." The ominous sound of his words made Gretta shudder. 
Leering at her obscenely, he said, "Make sure you tell that to your mother. 
Tell her that Butchie and Jose are coming back for more. And ask her if she 
still thinks that this is the right place to raise her family." 

Butchie grinned. "I hope she stays," he said. "I just can't wait for more of 
your sweet head." 

Jose brandished his knife while his burly partner pulled up his pants. 
"We're going to be leaving now. But if you call for help or try to run we'll 
come back and cut your bellies open. So count to one hundred real slow 
before you even move." 

Turning on his heel, he led Butchie into the trees. Gretta watched until 
they were out of sight. Then she heard the sound of motorcycles being 
started, and they were gone. Turning to John, she began crying hysterically. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Karla was furious. The sheriff was being gentle and solicitous, but it was 
obvious that he didn't believe her. He thought her a paranoid widow who had 
been sleeping alone so long that she had lost all sense of reason. He 
practically said so. 

"I know how tough it must be, Mrs. Thompson," he was saying, "to handle 
something like this without a man in the house. If there's anything we can 
do to help, please let us know." 

His well-meant words angered her still more. 'There is something you can 
do," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Get the animals who did it 
and put them in a cage where they belong. And stop whoever it is that's 
doing this to us." 

"Now, Mrs. Thompson," the tall blue-eyed policeman drawled with elaborate 
patience. "We went through all of that last evening when I came to talk to 
Gretta. We'll do our best to catch them all right. But when we do, I'm sure 
we'll find that they were a couple of drunken migrant fieldworkers out for 
some excitement. The tomato harvest has been slow this year, and a lot of 
them aren't working. Damn wetbacks! They give us more trouble." 

Karla stamped her foot in frustration. "No," she insisted. "There's somebody 
out to get us. I know it! First the fire in the west orchard. And now this! 
You've got to do something." 

"We are doing something," the cop said, in a voice usually reserved for 
stubborn children. "We got a pretty good description from the Willows boy, 
and we're checking all the labor camps in the area. Those two won't go far. 
They'll drink another bottle of wine and forget it ever happened. We'll get 
'em. You'll see." 

Karla started to speak and then swallowed her words. What was the use? Even 
if she told him of her suspicions about Stone, he wouldn't believe her. And 
that wouldn't be fair to Paul. She had tried calling him yesterday, as soon 
as Gretta blurted our the horrible story between hysterical sobs. But his 
secretary said that he had been called out of town unexpectedly and wouldn't 
be back for a day or two. 

"Now why don't you just try to relax," the sheriff said. "The nightmare is 
over." He rose from his seat on her couch and headed for the door. "By the 
way," he began, stopping to face her again. "Your daughter is still around, 
isn't she? When we catch those dudes, she'll have to make an 
identification." 

"She's upstairs sleeping right now," Karla answered. "The doctor gave her 
enough sedative to keep her asleep for days. She's had a terrible 
experience." As she spoke, a sob built up in her throat and her eyes filled 
with tears. The sheriff was right. It was hard to handle problems like these 
without a man in the house. "But when you need her," she went on, her voice 
cracking but determined, "she'll be ready. We want those animals behind bars 
where they belong." 

"We'll get 'em, ma'am," he said again, stepping out the door. "Don't you 
worry about that." 

She stood in the doorway watching as he got into his police car and headed 
up the drive. Feeling totally drained, she started to go inside. But then, 
when the car was halfway to the main road, it stopped and backed quickly up 
to the house again. 

Rolling down his window, the officer hollered, "Hey, Mrs. Thompson." Karla 
opened the door wide once more. "You'd better shut off them irrigation 
sprinklers." 

He was waving his arm toward the north. "Or your whole crop'll be ruined." 
Before she had a chance to respond, he gunned the engine and headed for the 
main road. 

"Wait," she called after him. "Wait, please." But the sound of his tires 
spinning up the gravel drive drowned her voice. In a moment, he was gone. 

Karla felt a cold chill run up her spine. The irrigation sprinklers were on 
in the north orchard. If she lost those almonds, on top of what was 
destroyed in the fire, she wouldn't even be able to pay her taxes next 
winter. Letting the door slam behind her, she ran across the field, heading 
for the pump shed. She had to turn off that irrigation pump. 

Powerful jets from a hundred whirling sprinkler heads sprayed her as she ran 
between the trees. Her loose-fitting housedress was plastered wetly to her 
body. Her water-logged moccasins slapped against the heels of her feet. All 
around her, branches were bending under the weight of dripping and 
water-soaked nuts. The ground was littered with them. As she drew nearer to 
the pump house, she realized that it was too late. The nuts would be rotten 
before the week was out. 

In despair, she shuffled to a stop, approaching the irrigation shed with her 
head down. Whe she looked up, she noticed two motorcycles standing beside 
the small wooden building. She stopped in her tracks, frightened by the 
sudden knowledge that the saboteurs must be somewhere around. Her first 
impulse was to turn and run. But she steeled herself. If she could just get 
a look at them. Maybe then she could get the sheriff to believe her. 

Moving slowly, and as quietly as possible, she circled the whitewashed 
building. Maybe they were inside and she could see them if she peeked 
through a crack. Tiptoeing stealthily, she moved closer to the weathered 
boards. Pressing her face against them, she peered through a chink. It was 
dark in there, but she thought she could make out the silhouetted outline of 
two figures moving in the shadow. Holding her breath, she strained for a 
better look. 

What she saw took her breath away, leaving her frozen to the spot. There 
were a man and woman embracing. The man was fully clothed, but the woman was 
totally naked. They were kissing, and it looked like he was fondling her 
naked breasts. Just who the hell did they think they were? 

She was about to rush angrily inside, demanding that they leave at once, 
when she heard a sound behind her. Turning quickly, she saw a short, thin, 
dark-skinned man. "What are you doing on my property?" she asked. 

The man said nothing, his dark eyes glinting cruelly. With the slightest 
trace of a smile, he drew a switchblade knife from his pocket. "Hello, 
pussy," he said. As he spoke, he flipped open his blade and waved it at her. 
Then, stepping forward, he pressed the tip against her breast. "Let's go 
inside." 

Karla was terrified; speechless with fear. In response to the prodding of 
his knife, she moved toward the pump house door. Still holding the 
frightening weapon against her, he pushed it open. Then he shoved her 
roughly inside. 

The writhing couple stopped kissing to look up at them. "What the fuck . . . 
" the man complained. 

The one called Butchie grinned, a wide gap showing between his scattered 
teeth. Still holding the nude woman in his arms, he flexed his muscles, 
making the network of tattoos which decorated them dance obscenely. "Let 
her," he said. "I'm not gonna stop now." 

Out of the haze in Karla's mind, a dim specter of recognition began to 
arise. The name Butchie. And the tattoos. The one with the switchblade must 
be Jose. These were the same two men who had attached and abused Gretta. 

She felt her knees shaking. She knew what these criminals were capable of. 
She knew what they had done to her daughter. She thought of trying to run, 
knowing full well that the dark one's switchblade knife would be in her 
before she had gone two steps. Perhaps it would be better to die. 

Trembling, she stared at Butchie and the girl. They kissed again. Karla 
could see the woman rubbing her naked tits against the grease-stained front 
of his tee shirt. His fingers were digging into the soft olive-skinned flesh 
of her ass. She wanted to turn away, but found that she could not. 

Without warning, Jose threw her roughly to the packed dirt floor. Placing 
the heel of his boot against her throat to keep her from moving, he used his 
knife to cut a length of rope from a coil which was hanging on a nail. 
Kneeling, he quickly tied her wrists behind her back. Then, looping an end 
of the rope around her ankles, he fastened them securely. Within moments, 
Karla was hog-tied. Although the ropes bit harshly into her wrists and 
ankles, she could stand the discomfort as long as she didn't try to move. 
But each time she attempted to shift her position or straighten her legs, 
the bonds drew tighter, bringing tears of pain to her eyes. 

She lay helpless on the floor, a thousand terrors alive in her heart. What 
would they do to her? Would they rape her? Kill her? She wanted to scream. 
But there was no one to hear her. 

Jose knelt beside her for a moment, idly running the point of his knife over 
the contour of her breasts. She wore no bra beneath her housedress and could 
feel the cruel implement pressing against her. In spite of the pressure of 
the ropes, she tried to squirm away. The hoodlum laughed. 

"There's nothing you can do," he said, "but lie there and enjoy the show. 
Butchie and my sister Maria really know how to get in on." 

With the eyes of a caged animal, Karla stared out of her body. Before her, 
the burly man was running his hands up and down over the dark woman's naked 
form. He squeezed roughly at her tits and plucked at her burgeoning nipples. 
The girl was sobbing and moaning as though nothing had ever felt better in 
her life. Karla was disgusted. 

"Play with my pussy," Maria begged as the man's hands traveled over her 
breasts and her belly. His fingers wandered to the dark shadowy triangle of 
pubic hair, tangling in the stiff and shiny black curls. One thick digit 
began working its way into her cleft, bringing strangled cries of pleasure 
from her lips. 

Karla just stared in silence. Maria was rather good-looking, actually, 
although the bound woman would have hated to admit it. She was tall and 
shapely, with golden skin and shimmering black hair. Her eyes were deep and 
almond shaped, so dark that they appeared to be windows into her very soul. 
Her boobs were big and round, capped in nipples of dark, leathery brown. Her 
ass was full and perfectly contoured. 

The man was sucking one of her nipples, making loud slurping noises as he 
rolled his tongue over its sensitive surface. As he licked and lapped, his 
head moved lower. Karla could see a wet trail of his saliva tracing the path 
of his lingual journey. Down into Maria's cleavage it went. From there it 
zigzagged across the curving slope of her belly. Maria was moaning 
rhythmically. 

Butchie dropped to his knees at the dark woman's feet, his lips pressed 
hungrily to her vulva. Karla shuddered at the sight. She felt her own body 
responding instinctively, her nipples hardening inside her dress. There was 
a moist warmth creeping through her groin, beginning at her pussy and 
spreading rapidly throughout her torso. Her eyes opened wide as the thug 
began tonguing the naked woman's cunt. 

Then, to her horror, the one called Jose moved into the picture. He had 
slipped out of all his clothes and was standing there with a hard-on as long 
as a telephone pole. It was thick and brutally gnarled, curving upward like 
a scimitar to point obscenely at the heavens. His eyes wore a glaze of lust 
as he stared at his sister and Butchie. His hand was sliding slowly up and 
down the length of his rod. 

Stepping forward, he eased into position behind Maria. As his heavy set 
companion licked her pussy, Jose reached around her, filling the palms of 
his hands with the firmness of her titties. Karla gasped in shocked 
disbelief. 

He had referred to her as his sister. Yet here he was fondling her breasts 
and rubbing his naked penis against her ass. Was it possible? Could anyone 
really be that depraved? 

"Ooooohh, Jose," the dark woman murmured as he started playing with her 
nipples. "That feels sooo gooooood." Butchie looked up at her words, 
flashing his toothless grin at the sight of his friend's hands on her 
titties. Jose gripped them harder, tweaking the nipples and twirling them 
like the knobs on a radio. 

Karla could see Maria hunching back against him, pressing her buttocks 
against his naked and hirsute manhood. Butchie's lips were back at the well, 
sucking at the thick membranes of her snatch amd making the naked girl sigh 
in passionate excitement. "Oooooh, Butchie," she moaned. "Take off your 
pants. I want to play with your prick." 

Her vulgar words jolted the hog-tied prisoner, reminding her of the peril of 
her situation. As long as the two thugs entertained themselves with the 
willing little slut, they would leave her alone. But when they finished with 
Maria, she would be next. She resolved to do nothing to attract attention to 
herself. Silently, she watched the lewd troilistic coupling. 

Butchie's head was bobbing up and down as he fucked the attractive girl with 
his tongue. Her body was undulating rhythmically, pressing her loins against 
the kneeling man's face and then swinging back to rub her ass against her 
nude brother's cock. Suddenly, the tattooed tough-guy stood up, taking his 
mouth from her sweet-smelling slash. Quickly, he began to undress. 

Karla glanced fascinated at Maria's exposed pussy. It was all puffy and 
pink, coated with a glistening sheen of saliva and love juice. The black 
hair which surrounded it was spotted with pearly droplets of fluid, looking 
frosted and inviting. Her clit, which was erect and swollen, stood out 
prominently above the long drooling slit of her cunt. Something about the 
sight of it made Karla's own clitoris expand, causing her panties to cut 
painfully into the slot of her vaginal orifice. 

Then her attention was recaptured by 

Butchie, who had shed all his clothes and was standing stark naked in front 
of Maria. His cock was long and thickly bulbous, a drop of lubricating juice 
sparkling at its tip. It was a massive weapon, enough to frighten the most 
experienced of women. The young widow thought of what her daughter had been 
made to do and shivered in dismay. 

In silent hatred, she stared at his phallus. Beneath it hung his balls. They 
were huge and heavy, bloating the wrinkled sac which contained them. As he 
moved, they swayed slowly from side to side like a weighted pendulum. He 
stood for a moment, watching Jose's hands move over Maria's breasts and 
belly. The woman was humming with excitement. At last, when he stepped up to 
rub his swollen prick against her, the woman gasped softly. Reaching from 
him, she wrapped her fingers around the length of his cock. Slowly, with an 
erotically hungry movement, she pulled it up and down. 

Karla was astounded to see Butchie's massive penis grow even bigger under 
Maria's fondling touch. It twitched and bucked as it mushroomed, 
communicating its need to the hand which cradled it. Its head was as big and 
as round as a billiard ball. As Maria stroked it, it darkened to a deep 
shade of purple. The naked woman's breathing could be heard even over the 
sound of the still-running irrigation pump. She seemed to have been 
transported to a new plane of sensation by the two men who were sexing her. 
Karla couldn't help wondering how it felt to have two pricks at a time. 

Maria was tugging on Butchie's lengthening tool, pulling him against her to 
guide its tip toward her cleft. The big man bent his knees, lowering himself 
into position. From where she lay on the floor, Karla could see his cock 
moving up between the dark woman's thighs toward the center of her vaginal 
target. 

Jose pushed his sister gently forward, tilting her dampened snatch to a more 
receptive angle. But Butchie's prick was still just out of reach. Karla saw 
Jose's hand reach between the woman's buttocks to caress her cunt from 
behind. She thought she even saw his fingers dipping into it. 

Then, carefully, Jose lifted his sister off the floor, using his hand like a 
sling under her crotch. He swung her forward, bringing her within range of 
his husky partner's cock. Butchie looked down at the black-fringed cunt and 
grinned, his gums flashing. With his hand, he aimed his cockhead for the 
opening, rocking his hips back and forth like a mindless stud animal. 

Maria gasped when the swollen organ struck her clitoral mound, kicking out 
instinctively with her legs. Karla sympathized with her, imagining the pain 
of such a contact. Pushing downward on the base of his rod, Butchie adjusted 
his aim. This time, when Jose swung his sister toward him, he scored a 
bull's eye. Karla's eyes widened as the plundering tool drove past the 
puckered barrier of Maria's twat. 

The naked girl sobbed with pleasure as the thick penis penetrated her pussy. 
"Oh, Butchie, that's good," she howled. She wrapped her arms around the big 
man's neck, clinging tightly to his body. Her legs encircled his waist, her 
ankles locking in the small if his back. 

Karla could see the swollen purple organ sliding all the way in to her rosy 
pussy. Creamy white foam oozed from Maria's cuntal opening to coat it with 
moisture, easing the friction of his entry. As he drove inward, Maria 
rotated her hips, screwing herself all the way onto the towering fuck pole. 
At last he was in to the hilt, the curls of his pubic hair tangling with her 
own thick pelvic fur. 

Immediately, he began to slide outward again. Thick rivulets of her frothy 
fluid followed the retreating member. Karla watched fascinated as it slipped 
outwards, knowing that any moment its bulbous head would pop from the 
comfortably cuntal confines. His penis seemed endless, more and more of its 
length being revealed as he withdrew from her opening. 

Then just when the bloated head was about to pop from between the puffy pink 
labia, he reversed direction. This time, the entire length of his prick was 
immersed in her with a single swift stroke. She grunted bestially, a sound 
of mingled pleasure and pain. 

Karla found herself reacting to the lascivious sight in spite of her 
revulsion. Her nipples were as hard as stones, tenting the material of her 
dress over their pebbled contour. Her cunt was juicing wildly, soaking the 
material of her panties where they pulled tight between its lips. She 
wriggled her pelvis in an attempt to ease the tension, but that only drove 
the bunched fabric of its crotch band deeper into her slit. She could not 
tear her eyes from the lewd scene before her. 

Jose had been rubbing his penis while he watched Butchie fuck his sister. 
But there was a desperate look in his eye. His cock was long and hard, 
throbbing with desire. Karla feared that he might try to use it on her. 
Mentally, she drew herself into a ball, trying to be as inconspicuous as 
possible. 

But the Chicano was not interested in her. He had eyes only for his sexy 
sister. 

His gaze was riveted to her ass. Each time it lifted, the lips of her pussy 
scaling Butchie's tower, the Mexcian's prick jumped. His tongue licked his 
lips absently as he took a step closer. Then he acted. 

As she rode the heavy man's huge staff of life, Jose placed his hands on her 
hips. Then, when she reached the top of her undulating cycle, he held her 
there. Stepping forward, he swung his prick beneath her, poising her anus 
over the tip of his dong. With a wrenching twist of his pelvis, he nudged at 
the puckered nut with his tapering penis. 

Karla could see the fluid which oozed from its tip coating the lips of his 
sister's rectal mouth. She knew what he was getting to do, and the thought 
of it horrified her. To begin with, Maria was Jose's sister. But as if 
incest wasn't bad enough, he was getting ready to take her rectally, while 
another man fucked her in the cunt. How awful! Yet while her intellect 
recoiled at the shameful display of lust, Karla's body involuntarily warmed 
to the sight of it. She was no longer aware of the ropes which bit painfully 
into her wrists and ankles as her body writhed on the floor. 

Jose had worked his cock deep into Maria's ass hole, and was groaning like a 
wounded animal. His sister's eyes were tightly shut, her teeth buried deep 
in 

Butchie's shoulder. The big man's buttocks worked rhythmically back and 
forth as he drove his weapon up into Maria's twat. 

Karla's mind whirled at watching the naked girl being buffeted erotically 
between two plundering penises. The one in her ass hole was in all the way 
to the base now. As the girl dropped her weight on it, it plunged deep into 
her bowel. Jose's nuts were swinging wildly as he fucked into his sister's 
ass. 

The bound woman wanted to close her eyes; to turn her face to the wall. But 
she was hypnotized by what she saw. Her gaze was cemented to the sight of 
Maria's loins. The double impalement held her in total fascination. 

Butchie's grunts were becoming louder and more rhythmic. The muscles in his 
thighs and buttock stood out like heavy braided ropes as he lifted Maria's 
weight with the strength of his prick alone. She was rising and falling 
against him, burying both pricks in her at the same time. Lewdly, they 
rubbed together through the thin membrane which separated her orifices. When 
Butchie's balls were ready to explode, he howled like a wolf at the kill. 
Then his churning testicles sent a hot load of gism through his tubes. 

Karla could see his muscles tensing as he shot his load into the pretty 
Chicano woman. Maria's face was twisted in ecstasy, and Karla knew that she, 
too, was experiencing an orgasm. Then Jose lent his voice to the chorus, a 
string of unintelligible syllables bubbling from his lips. The three 
revelers rode the breezes of glory together, their vibes of shimmering 
ecstasy filling the air. For a moment Karla almost thought that she too 
would climax, spilling the sauce of her womanhood over the fabric of her 
panties. 

She listened, entranced, as the lewdly coupling threesome sang their 
excitement to the universe. The men appeared lost in a shimmering world of 
orgasm, gone ten million light years beyond the earth's atmosphere. Maria's 
eyes were open, glazed with growing desire. She seemed to be staring 
directly at Karla. The helpless woman tried to avoid meeting the torrid 
glance, but she could not. Some magnetism held them bound together as Maria 
and the men coasted through their pleasure. 

At last Karla shivered and turned her head away. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

By the time the obscenely troilistic embrace was broken, all of Karla 
Thompson's terror had returned. Perhaps she was safe for the moment with the 
hoodlums' sexual appetites obviously sated. But she knew that it wouldn't be 
long before their lusts were revived, and she feared that she would be their 
next victim. The thought of being sandwiched between those two sex fiends 
horrified her. She strained at her ropes, but they tightened instantly, 
making her whimper in pain. Maria, still naked, looked at her, sympathy 
flashing in her eyes. 

Jose and Butchie hurried into their clothes. When they were dressed, Jose 
turned to his sister, tossing her dress at her from the corner where it lay. 
Without bothering with underwear, she slipped into it. The soft white 
material hugged her body, accentuating every curve. She smoothed its skirt 
over her hips. 

"You stay here with the cunt," Jose said. "Butchie and I have one more 
little job to do." Signaling to his partner, he started to leave. But Maria 
stopped him. 

"Wait," she said. "You don't have to leave her like that. The poor thing can 
hardly move." 

Her brother snickered. "You never get enough, do you Maria?" he said, 
laughing obscenely. His sister only smiled. 

"Come on, let's get going," Butchie growled impatiently. "Fuck the bitch. 
Let her suffer." 

"No," Jose said with a knowing grin. "I tied her very tight. I can't untie 
her completely, though. I want to be sure she's here when I get back." 
Snapping his fingers, he got an evil gleam in his eye. "Quick," he said to 
Butchie. "Get the chains from the motorcycles." 

Butchie stepped out and returned a few seconds later with a length of heavy 
chain and two locks. Jose, taking it from him, looped one end of the chain 
around a pump shaft and fastened it in place with a padlock. Then, wrapping 
the other end around one of Karla's ankles, he did the same to it. 

"There," he said, tossing the keys to his sister. "That should be enough to 
hold her." 

Taking his knife from his pocket, he switched open the blade and held it up 
where Karla could see it. She trembled, terrified of what he might be 
preparing to do. But then, bending over her, he cut the ropes which bound 
her. 

Karla sat up on the ground, rubbing her wrists and her ankles. She squatted 
on her haunches, looking up at him like an animal tethered in a cage. Then 
she turned away, tears flowing from her eyes. Without another word, the two 
thugs sauntered from the pump shed. Outside, she heard them starting their 
motorcycles. In a moment, the sound of their engines faded into the 
distance. 

Karla stood up and paced to the end of her chain. It was only a few feet 
long, and she couldn't take more than two or three steps before it pulled 
her cruelly back. But at least she could move her arms and stretch her legs 
a little. She felt the circulation returning to her hands and feet. 

She knew that Maria was looking at her, but she couldn't bear to meet the 
woman's glance. After what she had just seen, she found it difficult to 
think of Maria as a human being. Then she reconsidered. After all, it had 
been the girl who asked Jose to cut the ropes. Looking cautiously up at her, 
Karla said, "Thank you for making him untie me." 

Maria laughed. "Nobody makes Jose do nothing," she said. Taking a step 
closer to Karla, she put her hand on the tethered woman's shoulder. "I saw 
you looking at me before," she said. "Did you like to watch what I was doing 
with the boys?" 

Karla turned away again, astonished that the Chicano woman should refer so 
casually to the perversion. Biting her lip, she held her tongue. 

"Yes," Maria said slyly, "You liked it, all right. I could tell by your 
face. Have you ever tried anything like that?" 

Karl's eyes narrowed in anger. "Don't be repulsive," she sputtered. "I think 
it was disgusting. The three of you were behaving like . . . like . . . like 
animals!" 

Maria laughed. "Isn't that what we all are?" she asked contemptuously. Karla 
didn't answer. "Well, isn't it?" She stepped up to confront Karla face to 
face. "Haven't you got the same things I got?" she demanded, reaching out to 
fill her hands with the softness of Karla's breasts. 

The prisoner's nipples hardened at the contact, and she tried to step out of 
reach to hide the fact. But the response was not lost on Maria who was quick 
to pick up on all manifestations of the erotic. "You see," she said 
laughing. "You are an animal too." 

Karla buried her face in her hands and started to cry. She was no longer 
tied, but she was still a helpless prisoner. The men had apparently gone to 
do more damage to the ranch. They would soon be back, however, and when they 
did, there would be nothing to protect her from their lust. "Leave me 
alone," she sobbed. "Why don't you all just leave me alone." 

As if sensing the reason for her terror, Maria capitalized on it. "Leave you 
alone?" she mocked. "When my brother and Butchie come back, that's the last 
thing they're gonna do. They like women like you. The more you cry and 
scream, the more it turns them on. And you oughta see the things Jose can do 
with that knife of his. He is an artist. A true artist." 

Her words inflamed Karla's anxiety, reducing her to a quivering bundle of 
hysteria. "No," she screamed. "You can't let them. You've got to help me get 
out of here." 

Maria only laughed. "Do you know what Butchie would do to me if I helped you 
escape?" she said. "And Jose would probably help him." 

"But they'll kill me," Karla wailed. "They'll tear me apart." She was 
totally irrational, sobbing like a beaten child. All she could think of was 
the men and what she knew they were capable of doing. They had forced Gretta 
to commit fellatio on them. But after what she had just seen them do with 
Maria, she knew that that was nothing but a warm up. "Please help me," she 
whimpered breathlessly. "I'll do anything." 

Suddenly, Maria's dark flashing eyes lit up. "Anything?" she echoed. "Will 
you really do anything?" 

Karla regretted instantly that she had used that figure of speech. Biting 
her lips, she whispered, "Please let me go." 

Maria's hands were suddenly on her again, cupping the fullness of her 
breasts through the perspiration moistened fabric of her dress. She could 
feel the Chicano woman's fingers caressing the curved softness of her 
titties, searching for her nipples. The pink tips were beginning to swell 
once again. Karla cursed herself for the instinctive response. Marshalling 
all her strength, she jerked free of Maria's grasp, retreating until the 
chain stopped her movements. "Take your hands off me," she spat, icy 
hysteria quaking in her voice. 

Maria smiled, but without humor. "You know what this is?" she said, holding 
up a ring of keys. "This is your freedom. Maybe your life. And I have it. 
Right here." She rubbed the keys lewdly across her pussy, licking her lips 
obscenely. Then, turning, she hung the key ring on a nail, far out of 
Karla's reach. 

Understanding began to dawn weakly in 

Karla's tormented mind. This woman was a total pervert. Even after being 
serviced by two men at the same time, she was not satisfied. As if being 
sodomized by her own brother wasn't enough, now she was demanding homosexual 
contact with Karla. 

The chained woman sobbed softly, not fully understanding what Maria wanted 
or expected; not at all certain of what she should do. Whatever the woman 
had in mind, it couldn't be as bad as the things the two men would do to 
her. Yet, she couldn't stand the idea of allowing a woman to touch her. 

When Maria's hands pressed against her bosom once more, however, she fought 
to control her revulsion. If she could only hold still long enough to 
satisfy the sex-crazed female's perverted lust, she might have a chance to 
get away with her life. Pressing her lips together, she willed herself to 
remain silent as the feminine hands explored the curves of her titties. She 
felt her ears reddening in embarrassment as her nipples grew quiveringly 
rigid again. She tried to disconnect herself from reality when Maria 
responded by tweaking them hungrily. 

She felt the woman's fingers pawing at the buttons of the bodice of her 
dress. As much as she wanted to slap the hands from her, she managed to keep 
her emotions in check. The top of her garment was open, the inner halves of 
her breasts revealed to the sex-hungry gaze of the woman who was so casually 
undressing her. 

"Please don't," Karla begged, fearful of her own body's response. "I don't 
want. . . " 

But Maria silenced her by kissing her full on the mouth, burying her tongue 
in the warmth of Karla's throat. At first, Karla resisted, making her lips 
hard and unyielding. But gradually they relaxed under the gently insistent 
pressure of Maria's labial caress. The woman's tongue tasted spicy and 
exotic. Her body smelled musky, an aroma suggestive of sex. Breaking lips 
contact, the dark woman buried her face in the exposed cleavage of Karla's 
bosom. Then, kissing each breast lightly, she looked into her prisoner's 
eyes. "I give you my word," she said, "that I will let you go if you give me 
what I want." 

Karla stared dumbly at her, at a complete loss for words. 

"Do you understand what I am saying?" Maria asked. The prisoner nodded in 
silence. "And, you will do it?" Maria insisted softly. 

"How do I know you will keep your promise?" Karla blurted. 

"Because I swear it," Maria answered. Then, in a quiet voice she added, "And 
because you haven't any other choice." 

Karla realized with sinking heart that the woman was right. She would have 
to do what the foul female demanded, no matter how vile or perverted it was. 
She would do it because no matter what it was, it was better than being at 
the mercy of those two horrible men. She would do it if there was only one 
chance in a million that it would earn her her freedom. How could she not? 

Her throat was dry, her lips parched and cracking. Her panties were still 
wet from the fluids which had flowed while she witnessed the troilistic 
encounter of a few moments ago. She could feel the moistened fabric 
irritating the nub of her clitoris as she spoke. "All right," she whispered 
at last. "Tell me what you want me to do." 

Without a word, Maria finished unbuttoning the housedress and slipped it 
over Karla's arms and head. Karla was naked except for the chain on her 
ankle and a pair of pale pink panties. Efficiently, Maria ripped them along 
the side seam, slipping them in tatters over Karla's one unfettered foot. 
Then, stepping back, she stared at the chained woman's nakedness. 

"You have a very beautiful body," she murmured, her eyes glinting with 
lesbian lust. "Turn around and let me see all of you." 

Her cheeks reddening with shame, Karla obeyed, stepping over her chain so 
that the woman could ogle her ass. When completed three hundred sixty 
degrees, and faced Maria again, the dark woman stepped forward, taking her 
in her arms. Karla felt the material of Maria's dress caressing the 
nakedness of her skin. It had a sensuous effect on her, making the lips of 
her naked pussy cringe in anticipation. Through the flimsy garment, she felt 
Maria's titties, huge and swollen against her chest. They were soft yet 
firmly resilient. Deep within her, there was an ineplicable urge to touch 
and fondle them. But she controlled the urge, keeping her hands at her 
sides. 

Dropping to her knees in fron of Karla, Maria pressed her lips to Karla's 
smooth white belly. Gently, lovingly, she nibbled little circles around the 
indentation of her prisoner's navel. When the tip of her tongue flipped over 
its sensitive skin, Karla gasped involuntarily. Maria moaned. 

Briefly, her lips glided over Karla's golden pubic hair. The young widow 
could feel the passionate woman's breath warming her clit, bathing her 
vaginal membranes in dewy heat. Strangely, she felt her hips beginning to 
move involuntarily. She tried tensing her muscles, struggling to keep her 
body perfectly stiff. 

Suddenly Maria rose to her feet. With a single fluid gesture, she stripped 
her dress off over her head and flung it from her. Now she was as naked as 
her hapless victim. Karla found her eyes traveling over the woman's body, 
appraising it as only another woman could. 

Maria's breasts were disproportionately large. But the huge brown nipples 
which capped them gave them grace and a kind of exotic loveliness. The two 
cylindrical caps stood out long and thick from the tips of the uplifted 
globes, each cylinder surrounded by a darkly pebbled aureole. A thick shock 
of raven hair upholstered the Latin woman's vaginal mound, metallically 
shiny against the soft unblemished smoothness of her skin. Karla could see 
the puckered cuntlips pouting scarlet in the middle of that busy tuft of 
black. 

As if she had followed the prisoner's gaze, Maria began rubbing her cunt 
with her own tapering fingers. The sight entranced Karla. Instead of feeling 
disgusted or turned off, she was becoming stimulated by the naked woman's 
body. She almost forgot the chain which was fastened tightly around her 
ankle. 

Aware of Karla's attention, Maria drove a long finger into her own cunt, 
circling its tip in a spiral as she drilled the tender passage. Withdrawing 
it slowly, she rubbed a drop of frothy liquid on the tip of her swollen 
clitoris. The sight made Karla's entire pelvic region tingle. Then dipping 
into her pussy for fluid again, Maria stepped forward. This time, when she 
withdrew her finger from her cunt, she lifted it to Karla's face. Slowly she 
turned her hand so that the bound woman could see the juice with which it 
was coated. With an elaborately sensuous gesture, she massaged the creamy 
foam into Karla's nipples. 

The young widow whimpered, closing her eyes in an attempt to shut out the 
obscene vision. But it stayed with her, haunting her mind. Maria's fingers 
were moving lightly over her nipples, massaging them with the fluid of her 
loins. Her palms were cupping the sensitive breasts, filling Karla's heart 
with palpitating desire. 

Experimentally, not sure of what to do but anxious to try, she reached for 
Maria. Her fingertips touched the dark-skinned woman's breasts for a 
fleeting moment, stroking timorously over their silky surfaces. They felt 
smooth and comforting, making her want to fill her hands completely with 
them. Karla stroked the twin mounds of lust with her open hands. As she 
rubbed the turgid nipples with her palms, she watched Maria's expression 
change from patience to pleasure. 

Suddenly Maria threw her arms around the unwilling lust partner, pressing 
their naked bodies together. Karla felt her breasts nestling against the 
softness of the other woman's bosom. Her nipples grew even larger, boring 
like drills into the soft skin before them. She felt Maria's belly rubbing 
against her own, and marveled at its smoothness. Then Maria humped her 
buttocks forward pressing her hairy vagina against Karla's naked mound. 

Karla could feel the other woman's cuntal lips kissing her own obscenely. 
She knew that the contact should turn her stomach; but it didn't. Instead, 
it made her skin crawl with desire. Her hair seemed to be standing on end. 
The woman's clit was as hard as a little pebble. She could feel it rubbing 
against her own, bringing her to full and throbbing erection. For a moment, 
their bodies remained locked together, tit to tit, belly to belly, cunt to 
cunt. Rotating their hips in opposite directions, the two women rubbed 
against each other, their clits in constant and electrifying contact. Karla 
thought she felt something building inside her pulsating loins. 

But Maria suddenly pulled away from her, allowing air to flow between them, 
cooling the ardor of their cunts. Falling to her knees, the Chicano pressed 
her face to the chained woman's open and oozing pussy. Karla felt the female 
lips upon her cunt lips, nibbling erotically at the softness of her twat. 
Maria's tongue shot forward to stab at her trembling clitoris, wrenching a 
groan of involuntary passion from the prisoner's throat. Encouraged by the 
sound, Maria sucked the rigid little nubbin into her mouth, holding it 
gently in her teeth while her tongue rolled it around and around. Karla 
thought she would scream with excitement. 

She felt Maria's hands on her hips and knew that the woman wanted her to lie 
on the floor. Not even thinking of their bargain or of the promise of her 
freedom, she complied. Spreading her legs wide, she opened herself to 
Maria's delicious exploration. The Chicano girl lay beside her, her feet 
toward Karla's head, her head nestled on Karla's thigh. Breathing hotly 
across the trembling membranes of the fettered woman's cunt, she dipped her 
fingers in it. She rolled the clitoral nubbin gently about. Karla's 
breathing was labored as she responded with genuine excitement to the 
homosexual caress. 

Rising to her knees, Maria straddled Karla's face. Once more she buried her 
head in the prisoner's groin. Lustfully, she began to lick the labial 
tissues with the tip of her tongue, causing the puckered orifice to blossom. 
Karla felt her cunt lips opening like the petals of a rose. Passionately, 
she looked up into the gaping snatch which waved above her face. It was 
coated with moisture and flushed a deep, rosy pink. Inhaling deeply, she 
smelled the fragrance of it. Its sweetness of exotic musk was mingled with 
the acid scent of sperm. She remembered how Butchie's cock had slid so 
easily into it. No longer able to contain her desire, she lifted her head. 
Brushing her lips lightly across the blushing membranes, Karla tasted the 
heady flavor. 

Maria moaned at the contact, responding by thrusting even deeper into 
Karla's vaginal cavity. Immediately, Karla slid her tongue forward, gliding 
its tip over the parted lips of Maria's snatch. Reaching up, she threw her 
arms around the naked woman's ass, lifting herself so that her face pressed 
tightly against the aromatic pussy. 

Motivated by the lust which Maria's caresses had inspired in her, she 
plunged her tongue deep between her cunt lips to taste the full and glorious 
flavors of womanhood. Maria's hips began to thrash, waving her pussy from 
side to side. But Karla stayed with her. The taste was spicy and sweet, with 
a faintly acid overtone which incensed her; aroused her. It made her own 
juices flow even more copiously. 

She could hear Maria sucking them enthusiastically from her slit. She felt 
teeth and lips nibbling at the folded rolls of her inner cunt flesh. 
Hungrily she sucked huge mouthfuls of smooth and tender flesh into the 
warmth of her honeyed throat. She ran the blade of her tongue over the 
sensitive tissues, feeling the woman's writhing response. 

When Maria's tongue wrapped once again around her active little clit, she 
moaned. The sound set up a vibration in her throat which turned her mouth 
into and electric massager. She could taste a change in Maria's fluids. They 
were becoming thicker, richer, with a more intoxicating flavor. The scent 
was going to her head, spinning her around and making her forget who she was 
and what she came from. 

All she knew was that she and this strange and evil woman-this girl without 
morals-were riding together on a whirlwind of excitement. She felt herself 
approaching a new kind of climax, one like she had never experienced before. 
The softness of the other woman's touch; the depth of her response; the 
unembarrassed groans of passion which came from her lips; all served to 
distinguish the experience from a heterosexual one. All thoughts abandoned 
her, all reasoning left her. She was no longer a prisoner held in place by a 
chain, but a willing slave to lust. 

"Oh no," she wailed, her words muffled by the cunt flesh which filled her 
mouth. "It can't be happening. I don't want it to. . . " 

But Maria drove back against her more firmly, pressing her pussy against the 
sobbing woman's lips. Karla's nose nudged at her dark and spicy ass hole as 
her tongue plunged to the roots in her roiling cuntal cave. For a moment, 
she flashed on a vision of Jose's ass-reaming probe. But then all 
recollection faded. 

All at once her magnificent orgasm began. She almost didn't recognize it at 
first. There was no tedious buildup, no accumulation of pressure. Instead, 
it was as though a giant balloon had suddenly burst, pricked by the sharpest 
of pins. Fragments of her shattered consciousness sailed off in all 
directions. A swizzling sizzling sheet of flame simply engulfed her soul all 
at once. With a bestial scream, she began flowing, filling Maria's mouth 
with the juices of her femininity. At the same time, she felt a river 
flowing in her throat. 

The Chicano woman bucked and rolled above her, pressing her pussy against 
Karla's contorting face and then pulling it away again. Locked together, 
they toiled, each spewing the liquid fury of passion into the other's 
throat; each moaning the joy of her climax to the uncaring solar system. 
Then, just as quickly as it began, the explosion was over. 

Karla was jolted back to the harshness of reality. No longer tripping like 
an angel through heaven, she found herself naked and lying on the 
hard-packed dirt floor of the pump shed with a cunt in her mouth. She 
couldn't believe it had happened. 

Maria rolled off Karla with a joyous smile on her face. "That was 
beautiful," she said. "Now I will keep my promise." 

For an instant, Karla forgot the horror of what she had just been forced to 
do. She had earned her freedom. She could escape to safety. As Maria bent to 
insert a key in the lock which held her chained, the prisoner reached for 
her clothing. 

Suddenly the earth shook to the sound of an explosion not far away. 
Instinctively, Karla threw her hand over her head in a gesture of 
self-protection. But Maria didn't even look up. Hurriedly, she finished 
unfastening the chain. "Quickly," she said. "You better hurry before they 
get back." 

Karla was stunned, staring out the door at the billow of smoke and flame 
which was consuming a wooden building in the east orchard. It was the 
equipment shed. They had blown it up, destroying the tractor and all of the 
orchard machinery. She felt her heart sink into a deep and bottomless pit. 
That was it. Now she had nothing. 

But Maria snapped her out of it by taking her shoulders and shaking her 
roughly. "Go!" she commanded. "Now! Run like you life depends on it." 

Realizing the danger she was in, Karla left without another moment's 
hesitation. Somehow, as she sped across the orchard, she managed to struggle 
into her dress. Miraculously, she made it back to the house. Slamming the 
door, she locked it securely behind her. Then she fell sobbing to the 
carpeted floor. 

 CHAPTER NINE 

Karla felt like the lone surviving member of a defeated regiment. It had 
been three days since the horrible experience in the pump shed. She had 
hardly slept an hour in that time. The sheriff had come to speak with her 
several times, but was no closer to catching the vandals than he had ever 
been. He still wasn't ready to admit that she was the victim of a plot, and 
he persisted on blaming the incidents on trouble-making migrants. 

Karla had told him only about the crop damage, and the destruction of her 
equipment. She made no mention at all of the perverted orgy which she had 
been forced to witness, or of the lesbianic relations in which she had been 
made to participate. She didn't even tell him that she had seen the 
culprits, afraid that she would blurt out the entire story as soon as he 
asked for a description. 

She had tried calling Paul Sterling, but he was still out of town. With him 
gone, and with the sheriff taking so blas' an attitude, she felt totally 
alone. Afraid that the hoodlums would be back again, she had sent Gretta to 
visit with an aunt in Tucson, Arizona. For a while, she had been tempted to 
go herself. But she simply couldn't give up. 

Not that there was much left to fight for any more. The west orchard had 
been destroyed by fire. All the almonds in the north orchard were 
waterlogged and would be rotten within days. And the equipment shed 
explosion had practically wiped her out. She wouldn't be able to cultivate 
next spring without a tractor and implements. But she was determined to hold 
out. 

Disgusted with the lack of police interest, she'd armed herself, getting 
Dick's old shotgun out of the closet and cleaning it carefully. He had 
taught her to shoot when they first moved to the Valley, and she had no fear 
of firearms. Loading both barrels, she dropped an additional supply of 
shells into her pocket and went out to patrol her last remaining asset-the 
south orchard. If she got so much as a glimpse of Butchie, Jose, or Maria, 
she was going to blow their heads off. 

Wearily, she paced between the trees, the gun clenched tightly in her hand. 
Once or twice she put it to her shoulder when she saw movements from the 
corner of her eye. But each time it turned out to be nothing more than a 
squirrel. She longed for revenge, almost hoping that the thugs would return. 

She had been standing guard for hours and her vision was beginning to blur. 
But when she saw three men approaching from a distance, she became instantly 
alert. Squinting, she looked up to see whether Butchie or Jose was among 
them. They weren't. The men were dressed like hunters, and seemed to be 
joking as they walked. Each held a rifle, but all three weapons were in 
cases. In spite of their innocent appearance, however, Karla was cautious. 

Raising the shotgun and pointing it in their general direction, she called, 
"Stop right there." The men obeyed, remaining as immobile as statues while 
she approached. "Who are you?" she demanded. "And what are you doing here?" 

One of the men broke into a smile. "You've been watching too much 
television, lady," he said. His tone was friendly, his eyes kind and gentle. 
He was tall and slim, with a walrus moustache and hair that was fashionably 
long. He was dressed in traditional hunter's red, and wore a bright peaked 
cap. "My name's Ted Cooper," he said. "These are my buddies Bob and Wally." 

The one called Bob made a formal little bow as he was introduced, his hand 
reaching up to tip an imaginary hat. He was shorter than his friend, but 
stocky, with broad and powerful shoulders. Wally looked like a dentist on 
holiday, with close-cropped hair and black-rimmed spectacles. His hunting 
clothes looked brand new. 

Karla kept the shotgun trained in their direction, but loosened her grip on 
the handle. "What do you want?" she asked them. This time her tone was a 
little less stern. 

"We're out for rabbits and squirrels," Cooper said matter-of-factly. "Most 
of the folks around here have given us permission to hunt on their land. The 
way those varmints eat nuts, we're doing the ranchers a favor every time we 
shoot one." He smiled again, his white teeth flashing. "How about you? Would 
it be all right if we hunted here?" 

Karla stopped to reflect for a moment. It might be a good idea to have armed 
men around. Not even Jose or Butchie would try anything then. "I don't 
know," she said indecisively. "There's been some trouble around here." As 
she spoke, she lowered her shotgun. 

"So we gathered," Cooper said, indicating her weapon. "That's a hell of a 
way to greet strangers." Then, laughing, he added, "But it's a good thing 
you didn't fire with that barrel all jammed up that way." Smiling casually, 
he reached for the weapon, taking it gently out of her hand. 

Karla, lulled by his friendly tone, was startled to find herself so suddenly 
unarmed. Immediately, the three masculine faces hardened. Wally, the one 
with the glasses, stepped around behind her. Bob moved off to her left. She 
felt her heart begin to pound like a tom-tom as she looked around helplessly 
at the three men who encircled her. 

"What is this?" she sputtered. "I thought you wanted to hunt." 

The one called Bob laughed menacingly. "We've got what we were after," he 
said, uncasing his rifle. It was a brutal looking weapon with a long black 
barrel and a powerful telescopic sight. Lifting it to his shoulder, he 
squinted through the crosshairs, aiming it directly at her forehead. Karla 
felt sick with terror. 

"Take off your clothes," Ted commanded. His voice was soft and 
well-modulated. But he was definitely in charge. 

Karla stared uncomprehendingly. It couldn't really be happening. It just 
couldn't. 

Ted waited patiently for Karla to obey him, giving her a moment to collect 
her thoughts. But when she still didn't move, he turned to his associate. 
"Count to three, Bob," he said softly. "Then shoot her right between the 
eyes." 

His words jolted the despondent woman. He was so casual, so nonchalant, that 
it was hard to believe that he was actually ordering her execution. Folding 
her arms, she glared at the men, her eyes shifting from Bob to Wally and 
then back to Ted Cooper. 

Then she heard Bob speak. "One. . . " was all he said. Her mind spun in 
terrified confusion. He was counting. As though he really meant to go 
through with it. "Two . . . " he intoned in the same flat emotionless voice. 

Suddenly Karla realized that if she didn't do something, she might have less 
than a second to live. Wordlessly, she pulled her sweater from the waistband 
of her jeans and drew it over her head. Then she opened the snap of her 
pants and peeled them over her thighs. 

"That's better," Cooper said. "Maybe we won't have to kill you after all." 
His eyes flashed as he looked her up and down. Her panties and bra were of 
simple white cotton, covering her as much as any such garments could. But 
they seemed to hide nothing from his hungry lustful gaze. 

Karla felt helpless and bare before the three armed and dangerous men. "What 
. . . What.. . What do you want from me?" she stammered. "I've done nothing 
to you." 

Immediately, the other man said, "One . . . " 

Karla started to cry, knowing that there was nothing to stop them from 
having their way with her. Helplessly, she unsnapped her brassiere and 
removed it. Then, without looking up at them, she stripped off her panties. 
Her breast heaved with sobs as she gave up all hope. Whatever they asked, 
she would do. She was like a trained animal whose spirit has been totally 
broken. 

"All right," Cooper said. "Who wants to be first?" 

His words emphasized her total vulnerability. Automatically, she covered her 
naked cunt with both hands. It was a token attempt to shield herself from 
their lustful stares. She was being offered like livestock on an auction 
block for the satisfaction of their perverted whims. It would be better to 
die right there on the spot. 

"I'll be first," Wally said. His glasses had become steamed, and he took 
them off to wipe them on his shirt. Putting them back on, he walked around 
her, carefully scrutinizing her naked body. "Yes indeed," he murmured under 
his breath, as though talking to himself. "I'll be glad to go first." 

Suddenly the full significance of the word "first" struck the widow, making 
Karla's knees weaken and almost throwing her off balance. They were going to 
line up and take turns with her. She had to run. Even if they killed her. 

But before she could lift a foot, Ted and Bob fell upon her, dragging her to 
the ground and pinning her in spite of her struggles. Each of them leaned 
his weight against one of her shoulders while gripping an ankle to pull her 
legs apart. She felt her cunt being opened and exposed to their lewd 
intentions. Through a cloud of bitter tears, she saw Wally bending over to 
peer at her sex as though it was some oddity on display in a bottle. 

"Very nice," he was muttering to himself. "Very nice indeed. I think I'll 
put it right in there." Unzipping his fly, he took out his prick and waved 
it at her, smiling cruelly when Karla winced in horrified anticipation. 
Then, without bothering to remove his pants, he fell to his knees between 
her forcefully splayed thighs. Inching his way toward her pelvis, he held 
his prick in his hand, rubbing its head against the smooth white skin of her 
inner thighs. She twisted and fought in an effort to break the grips of the 
men who held her captive, but it was hopeless. In an instant, Wally's dick 
was prizing at the gateway to her sex. 

He worked it up and down, rubbing the swollen organ between the partly 
stretched lips of her pussy. She was dry inside, all of her instincts 
rebelling against his forceable entry. Nothing could hold him back, however. 
Shaking his hips in a series of nervous contractions, he jabbed at her pussy 
with his weapon. She could feel its blunt tip driving against her aching 
tissues, forcing her vaginal flanges apart to allow him inside. For a 
moment, a flashing recollection of Maria flitted through her mind. How 
gentle the woman had been; how nearly affectionate. Wally had no regard at 
all for the sensitivity of her vaginal tissues. All he wanted was cunt. 

Throwing himself forward, the spectacled rapist speared an inch of penis 
into Karla's recoiling vagina. Her grunt of pain brought a laugh from Ted 
Cooper's throat. Now that Wally was in her, it was no longer necessary for 
the others to hold her legs apart. But they continued to do so. Brutally, 
the men pulled back on her ankles until she thought she would split. The 
pain in her hips was excruciating, yet it was dwarfed by the ache in her 
pussy. 

Wally was drilling deeper, ramming his penile muscle home in the soft wet 
interior of her tender widow's cunt. As soon as he hit bottom, he began to 
rock, driving his cock in and out of her like a steam-powered pile-driver. 
Her internal pussy membranes remained dry. Each vicious stroke irritated 
them a little more. Karla cried out in pain as he mercilessly scoured her. 

The woman's shouts of agony only seemed to enhance her attacker's perverted 
pleasure. Faster and faster he pistoned, the friction of his unlubricated 
cock irritating her tortuously. If she could have wrapped her legs around 
him to slow his jerking rhythm, Karla would have done so. But the iron hands 
which held her wouldn't even permit her that. There was a stone under her 
ass, digging painfully into her. Each time Wally's pelvis slammed into her, 
she felt it bite the softness of her naked skin. Overhead, the sun shone 
brightly, stinging her unprotected nakedness. She was in torment, condemned 
to an earthly purgatory from which there was no possible escape. 

Wally's breath was coming in short labored gasps as he used the weeping 
woman for his ugly satisfaction. She tried to block from her mind the 
knowledge of what soon would be happening, but it was impossible. His seed 
would inundate her, soaking her vulva with obscene viscosity and easing its 
movement within her. Then, when he had done with her, the others would add 
their juices to his, forever polluting her with their sperm. 

"Nooooooo," she shrieked in frustrated desperation. "Nooooooo!! ! " 

Wally fastened his teeth to one of her nipples, chewing and gnawing at it 
until it hardened in spite of her revulsion. His tongue swept over it 
roughly, totally unconscious of her sensation. His fingers pinched the flesh 
of her hips, moving her with him as he fucked her without mercy. He was 
hurting her all over, making her wish for death to end the agony of living. 
But he wasn't finished yet. 

Reaching between them, his finger sought the tightness of Karla's clitoris 
where it hid nestled in its sheltering pouch. Insensitively, he rolled it 
with his fingertip. He jabbed at it harder and harder, as though angry that 
it failed to respond by becoming erect. The pain of his rough treatment made 
her whimper, and he mistook the sound for an expression of excitement. 

"Oh, you like that," he muttered, laughing softly in her ear. "Well, here, 
have some more." He was knuckling the little love button relentlessly, 
bruising it with the motion of his fingers. 

Karla grunted in agony, weakened by the pain which he was causing her. But 
there was something else too. Somehow another feeling was taking shape in 
the pit of her genitals. A feeling which she had to struggle not to 
recognize. Although everything hurt her-her cunt burning with the roughness 
of his unlubricated penetration, her clit throbbing with the agony of his 
carelessly diddly fingers-there was a glimmer of excitement glowing softly 
in her womb. 

In spite of her disgust, the fluid of desire was starting to flow inside 
her, easing the brutality of his copulation. She hoped he wouldn't notice 
it. She prayed for him to remain unaware of her involuntary capitulation. 

Wally was too lost in his own illicit pleasure to be conscious of anything 
else. His breath was coming in groaning, wheezing gasps as he humped his 
pelvis against her. His cock was swelling inside her, its thickness doubling 
as an orgasm bubbled in his nuts. Suddenly it began pumping its load of 
steamy gism into her tingling twat. 

She could feel the heat of it coursing into her tubes and splattering 
against her inner vaginal walls. It was thick and moist and syrupy. The 
thought that it was capable of making a child horrified Karla. She tried to 
press her ass against the earth, but her rapist's two accomplices held her 
fast. 

"Unh, unh, unh, unh," Wally grunted, the contractions of his throat 
coinciding with the contractions of his squirting penis. He was filling her 
with a hot load of semen, leaving his filthy residue in the pit of her womb. 
She felt the vile liquid oozing out to coat her tense thighs and buttocks. 
At last, after what seemed like forever, he climbed off her. His prick was 
limp and flaccid, dangling uselessly from the front of his pants. The cloth 
of his trousers were stained with his ejaculate, a large ring of dark 
moisture surrounding the opening of his gaping fly. 

"Not bad," he said, standing up breathlessly. "That's one hot little pussy. 
Maybe when you guys are done, I'll give it another go." 

Karla turned her face to the side and spat. But the men only laughed. 

"Why don't you take her next, Bob," Cooper said. "While she still has some 
fight left in her." 

"All right," Bob answered casually. "But sit her up. I feel like a blowjob." 

His words sent an icy chill up and down Karla's spine. They were going to 
make her suck him off like those other animals had done to Gretta. The image 
brought the taste of bile to her throat. Unable to help herself, she gagged, 
to the amusement of her tormentors. 

"That sounds like a good idea," Cooper said. Taking hold of her golden 
braids, he yanked her to a sitting position. Karla whimpered softly knowing 
that resistance was out of the question; that she would end up doing 
whatever they demanded. Silent and sullen, she watched as Bob undid his belt 
buckle and lowered his pants. He was wearing loose-fitting boxer shorts with 
bright hearts printed on them. The looming shape of his cock was ominous and 
threatening. Swiftly, he peeled down the drawers to expose it. 

His prick was short, not more than four or five inches in length. But it was 
as thick around as a salami. His pubis was almost hairless, as white as the 
belly of a fish. But his scrotum was huge, dangling down almost halfway to 
his knees. He reminded her of a bull. Then Karla remembered what that bull 
was getting ready to do to her, and she bit her lip in horror. 

Still holding her by the hair, Cooper twisted her head until her lips were 
just inches away from the stubby organ. like a jockey surrendering the 
reins, he handed her braids to Bob and stepped back to watch the action. 
Karla didn't even try to resist. When he pulled her toward him, she complied 
without protest, stopping only when his thick prickhead nudged at her soft 
lips. 

For a moment, she clenched her teeth, refusing to allow his foul member to 
enter her mouth. But when he yanked brutally on her braids, she opened wide 
and took its tapering point inside. The head was only slightly bigger in 
circumference than the stubby tool itself, and she couldn't be sure when her 
lips had reached the shaft. When he humped forward, she felt his balls slap 
against her chin. She knew that he had worked it all the way in. 

Her lips were stretched as wide as they could go around the massive girth of 
his organ, forming a perfect "o". Her cheeks already ached from the strain. 
She felt the heavy cudgel lying on her tongue. To avoid choking on it, she 
moved her head back slightly. 

"That's it," Bob said. "You got the idea. Suck it good. And give me a little 
tongue action." 

The vulgarity of his command jolted her, but Karla knew that there was no 
choice but to comply. Tentatively, she lapped his weapon's underbelly with 
her tongue. Some part of her heard him sigh, but her conscious mind blocked 
the sound in an attempt to avoid the pain of realization. Mechanically, she 
moved her head back and forth, stroking the thickness of his staff with her 
tightly stretched lips. His pubic bone pressed against her nose and she felt 
the tip of his organ nudging at the back of her throat. For a moment, she 
thought she would choke, but then she managed to slide backwards again, 
relieving the pressure on her palate. 

The man let go of her braids to clutch painfully at her ears, twisting them 
as he maneuvered her head the way he wanted it. "You give a good blow job," 
he growled as his prick slid swiftly in and out of her mouth. "And here 
comes the payoff." 

She felt his stubby organ swelling even thicker as its tubes filled with 
semen. Then it began to twitch and contract. Gob after gob of whirling gism 
shot from its tip to fill her mouth with the taste of burnt almonds. She 
almost choked on the jetting stream of obscenity, but managed to force it 
past her constricting larynx. As she felt the vile liquid slithering down 
her throat everything around her started to go dark. Bob was huffing and 
bucking urgently, pouring his hot load of semen into her unresisting belly. 
But, for a moment at least, Karla was spared the torment of knowing it. 
Mercifully, she slipped into a shroud of unconsciousness. 

When she awoke, she was draped over a log with her naked ass lifted high in 
the air. One of the men was holding her feet to keep her from struggling. 
Another stood on her hands. Ted Cooper, the leader of the felonious trio, 
was kneeling between her legs, his cock skewering into her pussy from 
behind. Karla had no way of knowing how long he had been fucking her, or how 
many times she had been screwed since Bob went off in her mouth. It didn't 
even matter any more. She was devoid of all sensation, lost in a fog of 
nonawareness. 

She felt Cooper grinding his hairy loins against her buttocks as he rammed 
his prick all the way into her cunt. She was no longer dry. Her membranes 
were no longer unyielding. She had been lubricated thoroughly by the gism 
which flooded her against her will. Detached from reality, she waited for 
him to finish with her, no longer caring what would happen next. 

Cooper was rotating his hips with each forward stroke of his cock. She could 
feel its head scouring at the inner walls of her cunt, bruising and 
irritating her vaginal lining. His voice was a grunting drone of bestial 
satisfaction, each crashing stroke bringing another grunt from his lips. 

like a rodeo cowboy on a bucking bronco, he rode her twat to glory. In and 
out his penis flashed, churning the fluids which mingled inside her to a 
frothy whipped cream. His fingers dug cruelly into her shoulders as he 
slapped his loins against her. Then, to relieve the building strain, he 
exploded. 

She felt his load of gism pumping deep into her channel, drenching her 
cervix and flooding her womb. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drifted once 
again into the peace of unconsciousness. But the trio of rapists continued 
using and abusing her body until they reached the limit of their capacity. 

When she awoke the next time she was naked and alone, her genitals drenched 
in male gism. 

 CHAPTER TEN 

It was late afternoon, and Sue Bennett was beginning to get bored. Things 
had been slow in the office for the past week or so. Dave Stone spent most 
of his time at his desk with the door closed. Almost nobody phoned him. 
Except for Mr. Cooper, and a man named Norcrest who worked for the bank. 
Whenever Cooper called, Stone spoke to him. But he gave her specific 
instructions that if it was Norcrest, he was out. 

It was beginning to look like the firm of Stone and Sterling was in some 
kind of financial trouble. Business and finance were a little over Sue's 
head, but from the conversations she had heard, she gathered that it had 
something to do with the Nut Valley development. Apparently Mr. Stone had 
been unable to acquire a certain piece of property which he needed. And that 
was holding up the whole deal. There was even talk of the bank calling in 
its notes if construction wasn't started at once. 

David had become morose. In the past week, he had hardly spoken to her at 
all. When he did, it was in grunting monosyllables. Once or twice, he had 
called her inside for a fast afternoon fuck. But each time, he had been so 
swift and brutal that she hardly looked looked forward to the sessions any 
more. 

As Sue sat at her desk, she found herself thinking about Mr. Sterling, 
Stone's partner. He was a gentleman. A lot nicer than David. She had never 
heard him raise his voice. And when ever she saw him, he was wearing a 
smile. Too bad he only came in once in a while. And too bad it was Stone who 
had the hots for her instead of Sterling. 

Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes and thought about what it 
would be like to squirm naked in the arms of Paul Sterling. She could see 
his cock in her imagination sliding into the cleft of her pussy. She could 
almost feel it getting her off. Her cunt was just beginning to warm to the 
erotic daydream when the sound of a buzzer jarred her from her revere. 

"Yes, Mr. Stone," she said into the intercom. Her voice was almost business 
like, but not entirely convincing. 

"I need you in here," he said curtly. She heard the intercom click off. 

She had a pretty good idea of what he needed her for. After all, sex was her 
only office skill. In spite of the way things had been going lately, she 
felt her body tingling in erotic response. Any fuck was better than none. 

Reaching for her purse, she extracted a mirror and checked her appearance 
quickly. Her red hair was in place, her fuck cut giving it a studied tousled 
look. Her brown eyes were clear and sparkling. Her long lashes fluttered 
when she blinked them. Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, she 
puckered them, studying her reflection carefully. Satisfied, she returned 
the mirror to her bag. Standing, she smoothed the skirt of her micro-dress 
over her shapely thighs. 

When she entered Stone's office, he was sitting on the edge of his couch. 
The fly of his trousers was open, and his swollen organ was already sticking 
out. As she closed the door behind her, he stroked it slowly up and down 
with his hand. Sue stopped to watch him for a moment. 

His cock was long and hard. It pulsated rhythmically, pounding blood 
engorging its veins and arteries. As he masturbated idly, she saw its 
swollen head double in size. It was round and thick, like the cap of a 
mushroom. A single winking eye bisected its surface. From this slit oozed a 
steady stream of syrupy goo. 

Sue felt her pussy salivate at the sight of his naked prick. It didn't 
matter how rough he treated her or how much he neglected her. When she saw, 
or even thought about his cock, she desired it. It was a reflex. An 
instinct. 

"How do you want me?" she asked softly, her eyes glued to his drooling 
pecker. 

His answer was curt. "Naked," he said. 

Aroused by his directness, and by the obvious hunger in his glance, she 
hastened to please him. Reaching behind her, she unzipped her dress. Without 
a word, she slipped it over her shoulders and stepped out of it. 

Her breasts were held in place by a scant wisp of fabric which did little to 
contain their rolling movement, and nothing to hide them from view. Her 
nipples were puckered and rigid, two dark points against the translucent 
material of the bra. Looking down, she could see their prominence. like a 
pair of six guns, they pointed at the target of her lust. Undoing the snap 
which held the garment in place, she freed herself of it. 

He sighed softly as her tits sprang into view. A droplet of saliva was 
forming at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were glazed with desire. 
His hand moved more quickly up and down the length of his rod. 

Standing in her panties and hose, she eyed his cock and licked her lips 
significantly. "Is that what you've been doing in here all by yourself?" she 
asked. Her voice was sultry and seductive. 

He said nothing. Instead, he stared at her pussy. The look on his face said 
enough. 

Her pantyhose were sheer but dark, exposing the shapely softness of her legs 
and the cushiony fur of her pubic plane. Beneath them, her underpants could 
be seen. They were really nothing more than a narrow strip of elastic with a 
black fringe over the spot where her pussy gaped hungrily. With a languidly 
sensuous movement, she stripped the nylons off. Tugging erotically, she 
peeled them over her hips and thighs so that only the scanty fringe covered 
her loins. Then, drawing them slowly over the shapely contours of her legs, 
she kicked them from her. 

Without looking at him, she could tell that David was becoming even more 
excited. She could hear it in his breathing which had become deeper and more 
sibilant. She could feel it in the vibrations of lust with which he filled 
the room. With a single swipe of her hand, she pulled the fringed drawers 
from her crotch, leaving herself totally naked. 

Going to the couch where he sat, she dropped to her knees between his feet. 
Leaning forward, she took his organ in her mouth and sucked it vigorously. 
His hand continued sliding up and down its turgid length. His knuckles 
grazed her lips at the top of each gliding upstroke. A little at a time, she 
gobbled his prick into her mouth. As it entered her, she laved it lovingly 
with the flat of her tongue. Stone's pulse was already beginning to quicken. 

After tonguing him from the base of his member to its dilated cum-slit, she 
stopped and looked into his eyes, the organ's shaft still in her mouth. 
Parting her lips, she let go of it and reached up to kiss him on the lips. 
She drove her tongue deep into the warmth of his mouth, caressing his palate 
with the taste of his own sex. Nibbling at his ear, she whispered, "You can 
do anything you want to me. I'm yours." 

Stone's voice croaked dryly as he spoke. "Your ass," he muttered hoarsely. 
"I want to put it in your ass." 

Sue's breathing quickened at the lewdness of his statement. He had never 
done it to her that way before, although he was fond of taking her cunt from 
behind. The thought of what was about to happen thrilled her, making her 
clitoris harden until it stood out like a miniature prick from her loins. 
His cock was thick and fat, and she knew that it would probably hurt, boring 
into her tight and tender ass hole. But the snugness of the fit would 
heighten the pleasure for them both. Leaning over him again, she began 
licking his dick like a lollypop. She knew he was watching as she ran her 
extended tongue up and down over its throbbing surface. She wanted him to be 
thoroughly wet before he attempted anal penetration. 

When his cock was coated with a glistening sheen of saliva, she turned from 
him and poised on her hands and knees on the floor. "Wet me too," she said, 
looking back at him through her legs. "Otherwise that big cock of yours will 
just tear me apart." 

Still completely dressed, with his cock sticking out at the front of his 
pants, Stone got onto the floor behind her. Bending forward, he puffed his 
warm breath over her tight little ass hole. Her thighs were parted, her 
knees about two feet apart as she tilted her ass back at him. Beneath the 
little brown button, her cunt was red and gaping. A thick coating of vaginal 
lubricant covered the rosy flesh of her twat's out-turned inner lips. 

He ran his tongue tip lightly over the entire length of her slit. At its 
bottom-most end was her clit, hard and pulsing with sex-hunger. There his 
tongue began its journey, rolling the little marble around until her hips 
were flailing wildly from side to side. He bathed her vaginal opening with 
his tongue as he brought it upward toward the fragrant entry to her rectum. 
Then, stiffening the lingual organ like a prick, he drove it between 
puckered anal lips. 

For a moment the sphincter muscle resisted him, holding the little opening 
shut to keep him from tasting its interior. But as he rolled and twisted his 
tongue inside it, she opened to him. Sue could feel the warm organ snaking 
into her ass, coating the walls of her bowel with moisture. Lowering her 
face to the floor, she lifted her butt even higher, moving it in swirling 
figure-eights to caress his nose and face with her crack. One of her hands 
stole down between her body and the floor to cup her clitoral mound. With 
her fingers, she scissored the little pleasure button, stimulating it as he 
tongued her anus. At last she was thoroughly lubricated. 

Stone straightened, undoing his buckle and opening his waist button. He 
pushed the trousers down over his hips, baring the hairy patch which 
surrounded the base of his cock and freeing his balls from the confinement 
of his crotch. His swollen organ sprang forward, aiming instinctively for 
the anal opening which lay spread out and greased up before him. Kneeing his 
way forward, he inched closer to her. 

Sue felt the taut-skinned head of his throbbing penis sliding erotically 
over the soft white skin of her ass cheek as he drove toward her nether 
opening. She stroked her own passionate clitty until it throbbed hotly. The 
tapering tip of his rod was nudging at the forbidden portal of her ass hole. 

The pressure which he applied at first was gentle and uncertain. But when 
the lips of her ass hole remained closed to him, he pushed a little harder. 
With a series of short staccato jabs, he drove the tapering point into the 
rubbery warmth of her anal ante-chamber. Then, with a grinding roll of his 
hips, he plunged ahead. 

Sue felt the bulbous head of his weapon being swallowed into the tightness 
of her anus. She began to move at once in the rhythmic tempo of lust. A 
millimeter at a time, the penis humped its way inside, stretching the walls 
of her already aching rectum. She was not accustomed to being penetrated in 
the ass hole, and the suddenness of his entry hurt her in spite of the 
copious sheen of saliva with which both of them had been coated. 

When Stone was an inch and a half into her, he stopped, allowing her tight 
muscles to grow accustomed to the unnatural intrusion. Slowly, they began to 
go slack, pleasure gradually overpowering pain. A low guttural sigh issued 
from the secretary's throat, filling the room with the music of lust as he 
worshipped at the altar of her bottom. 

She rocked forward and back while he remained perfectly motionless, her ass 
gobbling his prick at its own lustful pace. The rubbery walls of her bowel 
rolled back for him a little at a time, allowing his cock to go deeper and 
deeper still. When he was halfway into her, she threw herself back at him 
with all her strength. Sensing her intentions, he met her thrusts. 

All at once, he sunk to rock bottom in the well of her rectum, his cock 
screwing to the hilt in her ass hole. She could feel the curling wool of his 
pubic bush scouring at her buttocks and massaging the soft fleshy crack 
which separated their softly rounded fullness. like a strangled animal, she 
moaned, her gurgling voice spurring him onward. 

He began to move quickly, rocking forward and back as he buried his prick in 
her ass and then drew it almost all the way out. She timed the movements of 
her clit-stroking finger to coincide with his ass-fucking rhythm, and found 
herself climbing higher and higher on the ladder of excitement. Her cunt was 
juicing furiously, thick rivulets of slime dripping out to stain his carpet 
and to wet the knuckles of her self-loving hand. 

It felt good to be fucked this way, to be sprawled on the floor with her ass 
open and exposed while he stuffed it with the meat of his pecker. She had 
never suspected that it could feel so good. Her voice a rasping cacophony of 
sexual sounds, she howled her pleasure to the world. Her hips rotated 
drunkenly as she scoured her internal anal membranes with the head of his 
masculine flesh pole of desire. 

She could feel his heavy testicles slapping against the backs of her thighs 
as he rocked his body vigorously against her. The hair which coated his 
scrotum tickled her, making her writhe sensuously each time he bucked 
against her. Her breath was coming in short panting gasps, barely enough to 
keep her lungs supplied with oxygen. She was beginning to feel weak and 
dizzy. 

The tingling waves of pleasure which emanated from her clit were overtaking 
her entire body. Harder and faster she masturbated, her fingers slipping 
wetly through the fountain of fluid which bathed the sensitive nubbin. His 
cock in her ass was elevating her to heights which she had never before 
dreamed of reaching, while her self-loving fingers brought her closer and 
closer to release. 

Then it happened, all at once and without warning. The first rollicking wave 
of orgasm washed over her, leaving her mind drained of all thought and 
reason. Her body shook like a mountain in an earthquake, tremors of 
excitement wracking her frame and making her skin sizzle with the heat. Her 
cunt began to flow like a river unleashed, hot torrents of sex juice 
spurting from her as she rode the crest of a wave. 

"I'm cumming," she announced, her finger still twirling over the root of her 
pleasure button. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cumming." 

Her words overtook the man who slaved hungrily at her ass. In an instant, he 
too was exploding in orgasmic fulfillment. She felt the first rippling burst 
of semen shoot from his prick to sear the lining of her belly. It was 
quickly followed by another, and another, and another. As though he had been 
saving it up for a lifetime. Stone unleashed a tidal wave of hot gism into 
her anus. She could feel it flowing thickly into her intestines, lubricating 
his still pummeling penis as it drove in and out of her ass. 

Not caring who heard her, she shrieked like a wounded animal, lost in the 
throes of dynamic sexuality. Stone's voice joined hers, a series of bestial 
grunts tearing from his lungs as though he were being tormented by the fires 
of hell itself. Together they serenaded the god and goddesses of lust, their 
bodies coupling unnaturally to mingle the heat of their vitals. 

After an eternal moment non-connection with the realities of life, they 
drifted together back to earth. "Hhhhhhmmmm-mm," the woman sighed, allowing 
her body to stretch limply out on the floor. "That was wonderful." When he 
rolled off her, she turned over and reached for his prick. It was soft and 
flaccid. Cradling it in her fingers, she began rubbing it lovingly, in an 
effort to restore its virility and strength. "Let's do it again," she 
whispered. "Right here and now." 

Stone grunted, his lips turning up in the barest hint of a smile. "I can use 
it," he said softly, "if you can raise it." It was the first time in a week 
that she had heard anything other than hostility in his voice. Maybe she had 
discovered the secret of soothing the savage beast. 

Suddenly there was a commotion in the outer office. As though their naked 
bodies had been touched by a live electric wire, Stone and his secretary 
sprang to their feet. She rushed to gather her scattered clothes while he 
quickly pulled his pants up over his hips. The woman was still undressed 
however, when Karla Thompson burst angrily into the room. 

Karla was so filled with fury that, for a moment, she didn't realize what 
she had interrupted. Then she looked around her, blinking as recognition 
dawned. Mr. Stone's pants were rumpled, and his fly was gaping open. His 
secretary was totally nude, her under things strewn about the office floor. 
When she finally realized that they had been having sex, she was shocked. 
All the angry words which she had been rehearsing fled in the face of her 
embarrassment. Open-mouthed, she stood there just glaring at him. 

"What the hell do you mean coming in here that way?" Stone demanded, 
instinctively resorting to bravado in a sticky situation. "I'm a busy man. 
And I don't see anyone without an appointment." Turning to the redhead who 
was busily slipping into her underpants, he said, "Finish getting dressed, 
Miss Bennett. And show Mrs. Thompson out." 

His words reminded Karla of why she had come there. "You bastard," she 
hissed through teeth that were clenched. "You dirty rotten bastard." 

Stone smiled without humor, and spoke in carefully modulated tones. 
"Understand you've had a bit of bad luck, Mrs. Thompson," he said softly. 
"But I guess that's a farmer's lot. Maybe you should have sold when I asked 
you the first time, eh?" 

Karla's eyes narrowed. "You're not going to get away with what you've done," 
she said hotly. "Even if I have to kill you myself." 

"Is that a threat, Mrs. Thompson?" the realtor asked coolly. "Miss Bennett, 
did you hear that? She threatened me." He turned to his secretary who was 
standing there in her bra and panties, unwilling to say a word. 

"I threatened you?" Karla sputtered, finding it difficult to keep her 
emotions in control "It was you. I know it was you! First you set fire to my 
orchard. Then your hoodlums attacked my daughter. Then the explosion. And . 
. . and . . . " Choked with sobs of bitter frustration, she was unable to go 
on. Her shoulders heaved spasmodically as she began to weep. 

Still half naked, Sue Bennett went to the crying woman and put her arms 
around her shoulders. She had no idea of what Mrs. Thompson was talking 
about, but it sounded like she had been through hell. 

Stone was unsympathetic, however. Striding over to where the two women 
stood, he shoved his secretary roughly aside, pushing her away from Karla's 
trembling form. Then, with his open hand, he slapped Karla heavily across 
the face. "Listen, bitch," he said angrily. "Don't come in here again unless 
you're ready to sell out. And you'd better make it soon. I'm running out of 
patience." 

Karla stared uncomprehendingly at him, all the fight gone out of her. 

"I've been kind to you up until now," he continued. "But from here on it, no 
more nice guy stuff. You think you've seen trouble. Believe me you ain't 
seen nothing yet." Filling his hand with the front of her blouse, he twisted 
roughly until two of her buttons popped. Then with a stiff movement of his 
arm, he flung her halfway across the room. 

Sue Bennett gasped, jumping instinctively between her boss and the woman. 
But he shoved her away as he took another step towards Karla. This time when 
he hit the weeping widow, his hand was clenched into a fist. It struck her 
right in the pit of her stomach and knocked the wind out of her. "Now make 
up your mind," he said. "You've got no choice." 

He was raising his arm to strike her again when a powerful hand caught it 
and twisted it behind his back. It was Paul Sterling. Spinning his partner 
around, Sterling caught him on the jaw with his fist, dazing the stocky 
realtor. Before Stone had a chance to recover, he hit him again and again. 
Stone went down. 

"I've been out of town doing some checking on you," Sterling said as Stone 
struggled vainly to gain his feet. "It seems you're wanted for stock fraud 
in Arizona. And the Nevada police are looking for you too. Something about a 
murder. I've alreayd spoken to the district attorney about extradition. The 
police are on their way right now. 

Turning to Karla he said, "I'm so sorry for what happened. I should have 
known from the start what a low life he was. But you'll be safe now. Stone 
will be taken into custody. And from what I understand, they're going to 
throw the book at him." Stepping forward, he took her in his arms, soothing 
her with his touch. 

She let her head fall to his shoulders and wept without shame, feeling 
secure for the first time in two years. 

 CHAPTER ELEVEN 

The Nut Valley sun was shining brightly, warming the earth and breathing 
life into the thickly foliated almond orchards. But Karla and Paul had no 
interest in the weather. They had been lying in bed together for hours. For 
them nothing mattered but the inside of Karla's cozy bedroom. 

What was left of Karla's almond crop had already been harvested and sold. 
Gretta, after coming home to testify against Stone's hired gorillas, had 
returned to Tucson where she planned to spend the rest of the summer with 
her aunt. There was nothing for Karla and Paul to do but stay in and make 
love. Which is what they had been doing for the past several weeks. 

Stone, unwilling to take the rap alone, had named his accomplices, and all 
had been rounded up and taking into custody. It seemed certain that he would 
be in prison for the rest of his life, and most of the others with him. It 
gave Karla some satisfaction, whenever she thought of the things he had done 
to her and her daughter. At least he didn't win. At least he wouldn't get 
away with it. 

Paul had stayed with her-a loving attendant and an attentive lover-ever 
since Stone's arrest three weeks ago. They had talked little about it, but 
he knew enough to realized that she had been through a terrible ordeal. In 
part, he felt responsible for it. 

Now, as they lay side by side in her comfortable double bed, he slipped his 
arm around her protectively. "I love you, Karla." he said, pressing his lips 
to hers and kissing her passionately. "I love you as I've never loved 
before." 

She sighed, returning the pressure of his kiss. "And I love you," she 
answered, her voice soft and musical. "I'm so glad that we found each 
other." As she spoke, his hand traveled slowly up over her lovely naked 
body, exploring the sensitive recesses of her most private regions. She 
moaned softly, her skin tingling to his touch. 

Kissing her again, he cupped her mountainous breast in his hand, rolling the 
nipple gently between thumb and index finger. She felt it stiffen, and 
reached automatically for his cock. It too was becoming stiff and hard. 
Using his erect organ like a handle, she pulled him on top of her, guiding 
the rigid staff to the place of boiling heat which sizzled between her legs. 

"There is something I want to say to you," he whispered softly as his tool 
slipped into her cunny. 

Karla placed a finger to his lips. "Sss-shhh," she said. "Fuck me now. Then 
we'll talk." 

Without another word, Paul lowered himself onto her, driving his prick into 
the warmth of her vaginal opening. She could feel his member sliding in, 
stretching the sensitive membranes as it filled her body with pleasure. 
Simultaneously, their bodies began moving, bringing their loins together and 
apart in the age old ballet of corporal love. 

They were perfect for each other, their bodies fitting sublimely, one inside 
the other. She could feel her tissues tightening gently around the staff of 
his masculine member, milking and squeezing it to massage all of the nerves 
which lined the throbbing surface. Almost immediately, her fluids started to 
flow, buoying her on a cloud of pleasure; lifting her toward the pinnacle of 
heavenly orgasm. 

Higher and higher she rose, each stroke bringing her closer to her climax. 
She could tell by the expression on his desire ridden face that he was 
bubbling under too. It seemed to take less time for them to cum each time 
they made love. The were growing together, their two bodies merging into 
one. 

Within moments, the waves of ecstasy began cascading over both of them. They 
panted and they moaned, each expressing his excitement to the other; each 
expression of excitement heightening the pleasure which they mutually 
shared. 

When it was over, they lay silent, rolling in each other's arms and gluing 
their lips hungrily together. At last, when their passion was totally spent, 
she looked deeply into his eyes and asked, "Now, what was it you wanted to 
say?" 

Paul smiled, kissing her lightly on the forehead. "Just that I love you," he 
said. "And that I want to get married." 

Karla held her breath for a moment before responding to his unasked 
question. She had known it was coming; had known that he was falling as 
deeply in love with her as she had fallen with him. But there was still one 
thing that stood in the way. "I love you too, Paul," she said. "And I do 
want to marry you. But you know how much this place means to me. And to 
Gretta." 

"Of course," he answered thoughtfully. "And I'd never ask you to leave it. I 
guess deep down I've always wanted to live in the country too." 

There were tears of gladness in her eyes as she kissed him warmly on the 
mouth. "Then, yes, darling," she murmured. "Yes, oh yes, oh yes." Excitement 
making her hands tremble, she reached for the phone. "Oh, I've got to call 
Gretta and tell her," he said. 

But he stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist. "Call her afterwards," 
he whispered, pressing his already stiffening penis against her thigh. 
"First let's celebrate our betrothal." 

A woman in love, her thighs opened to him. 


THE END
