Message-ID: <56379asstr$1186157403@assm.asstr.org>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 03 Aug 2007 02:29:49 -0500
From: Ludwig Davon <hersch@bcgsoft.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Subject: {ASSM} story:  LLP-171  Honeymoon Hotel by Michael Jaeggers
Lines: 6317
Date: Fri, 03 Aug 2007 12:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


Greetings all,

You'll find below the story LLP-171  Honeymoon Hotel by Michael
Jaeggers.  If this type of material floats your boat feel free to
browse through our online cata log of over 1500 vintage adult
titles available in ebook format (pdf,doc,html,txt), priced at
only $2/each.  The ebook catalog is at the URL below:

http://www.adultbookcovers.net/album/index.html

The vast majority come with a cover scan. Shipping is by email
and free.

Cheers,

V.A.B.
eroticebooks@gmail.com
*****************************************************************
*******

LLP-171  Honeymoon Hotel by Michael Jaeggers





Honeymoon Hotel

By Michael Jaeggers



Prologue


Fog moved sinuously -- billowing, as it hugged the surface of the
lake -- and from a distance the dark castle looked as if it were
floating atop a cloud.  No light showed within those crenellated
stone walls; it was as if the structure were some ghostly
apparition -- a mirage of the past.

A fish jumped; the splash of its return to the water was muffled
by the fog.  Above the swirling vapours, one large, black night
bird flapped its way across a starless sky.  Then, as if giving
lie to its ghostly appearance, somewhere within the confines of
the castle a clock struck midnight.

A flashlight flickered briefly in one window on the third floor.
It moved on to the next window and then, at the corner of the
castle, the lights came on in a large room.

"I say, Morgan, isn't it a bit chancey; I mean, lights and all
that?" The question came from the older of two men as he gazed
somewhat apprehensively down at a deeply sleeping girl.

"You should know me better than that, Lord Medwell.  She won't
awaken until I tell her to.  Watch."  He laid down the camera
case he was carrying and lifted the covers from the reclining
girl's body.

Lord Medwell's breath whistled out of him in one lewd groan when
he saw the full ripe contours of the girl's lush young body.  The
blue nylon gown had crept up to mid thigh, and the left shoulder
strap had slipped down revealing a luscious mound of flesh the
size and shape of a ripe melon.  Tom Morgan simply reached
forward and pulled the bodice down until it revealed the brown
areola and nipple.  "Watch," he ordered again.  Taking the nipple
between his thumb and forefinger, he cruelly tweaked it.  The
girl did not stir, but the nipple -- like some slowly awakening
thing -- came erect.

"Watch," Morgan repeated, and lifted the hem of the gown to
uncover the pouting mound of Venus between her legs and its
luxuriant growth of sparse black pubic hair.  He parted the
girl's legs and, using his right arm under her knees, raised them
until the soft pink lips of her vagina came into view.  Morgan
glanced over at Lord Medwell and laughed at the rapidly breathing
older man.  Slowly, he placed the tip of his middle finger
against his thumb and then flicked at the pouting clitoris.  The
girl remained motionless, but a low moan of lust was wrenched
from Lord Medwell's throat.

Morgan dropped the girl's legs; they remained spread lewdly out
with the vaginal lips slightly open ... the entrance to her
secret-most regions was completely exposed, defenseless.

"Satisfied?" he queried with a slight knowing smirk.

Lord Medwell trembled in eagerness.  "Oh my, yes!" he said
hurriedly.  "Such a beautiful young creature.  Such a fine tight
little cunt.  I can hardly wait to pay a visit there." He placed
his camera on the chair.

Tom Morgan grinned at the older man and mentally laughed as he
said to himself, "The old goat is really in heat tonight." And
why not!  Hadn't he carefully built Lord Medwell up to this
point; hadn't he spent weeks and weeks in preparation for this
moment.  Morgan knew Lord Medwell's proclivities -- as well he
should, having catered to various wealthy and powerful men like
him for over seven years.  As with most of Morgan's clients, Lord
Medwell at sixty-six years of age, liked his women young,
helpless, and tearfully innocent.  Most important, however,
Morgan's operation was practically foolproof.  There had been no
repercussions during the seven years; there was no reason why
there should ever be any in the future.  In Lord Medwell's case,
he liked young brides -- newly married, still with the dew
freshness of their wedding ceremony clinging to them.  And what
better place to get them than at a honeymoon resort, a romantic
old castle where for over seven years brides had co
 me to be deflowered by their adoring husbands.

"These women," Lord Medwell had earlier explained unnecessarily,
"present a great challenge to a man like me.  Young, arrogant,
proud, and sure of their undying love for their new husbands,
they have to be humbled -- almost broken in spirit -- before they
can be taught to crawl to their real master's feet."

Now as Lord Medwell watched the sleeping girl, he began to feel a
familiar awesome power growing in his loins.  The sheer nylon
gown, above the girl's waist, showed the smooth white plain of
her belly and the mysterious crater of her navel.  Her pubic hair
was like soft black down, and the thin fleece-lined vaginal alit
was an open invitation to a warm and heavenly tunnel.  His eyes
fastened on the contours of her buttocks and then moved up over
the rising and falling of her breasts.  He could see the little
nipple still standing proudly erect.  Although his throat was
dry, his mouth watered.  He was impatient to get his teeth and
hands on those magnificent mounds of young, almost virginal flesh
and to twist, tease, massage, and bite them until they became
unbearably trembling volcanoes of passion struggling to erupt.

"Hurry, Morgan," he snapped, not taking his eyes from the girl. 
"Let's start with the pictures!"

"In a moment.  Wait until I get the camera on the tripod." A
second later, Morgan grunted his satisfaction with the setup and
said, "Okay."

The thought of those young, almost untouched lips mewling and
begging in passion, brought a rocklike hardness to Lord Medwell's
penis.  The blood pounded painfully throughout its throbbing
length, and he could feel droplets of thick white seminal fluid
already beginning to ooze from its urethral opening.

"All right," Morgan directed.  "Stand close to her.  Start
unzipping your pants."

Lord Medwell opened the fly of his trousers.  His large prick,
almost eight inches long and of astonishing circumference, leapt
out as though it were some voracious tiger suddenly released from
an insufferable cage.  The flash of light was brighter than a sun
as Morgan snapped his first picture.  Hastily, Lord Medwell
dropped his trousers and underdrawers.  Another flash, together
with the sound of film being wound on the next exposure.

"Go on," Morgan commanded.  "I'll shoot as you go along."

Lord Medwell hesitated now for the first time; he glanced
apprehensively toward Morgan.  "Are you positive she's under all
the way?"

Morgan sighed in exasperation and walked over to the bed.  He
stared intently down at the girl.

"Dorothy ... Dorothy, can you hear?" he asked in a flat tone of
voice.

"Yes." The word was a monosyllable without inflection.

"Dorothy ... you are with your husband.  Open your eyes,
Dorothy." He pulled Lord Medwell over alongside her.  "See,
Dorothy.  This is your husband, Roger.  Say 'hello' to Roger."

The girl blinked, then smiled and said in a loving voice, "Hello,
Roger."

"Dorothy, you will do anything your husband asks.  You'll do it
because you love him, and you know it will give him great
pleasure.  You will feel much pleasure from him when he makes
love to you ... so very much pleasure."

She was silent only a second, then she woodenly nodded her head
and said, without blinking, "I will do anything my husband asks
... it will be pleasure."

"Satisfied?" Morgan asked the older man.

Lord Medwell eagerly nodded his head.  Morgan went back to his
camera.

Lord Medwell squeezed the thick foreskin back from his painfully
throbbing prick and bared his teeth as he advanced toward the
girl again.  The proud young bitch was totally at his mercy.  He
had heard her giggling as she talked to her husband about him
earlier that evening.  She had said, "That Lord Medwell is a
dirty old man.  A nice rich dirty old man, but a dirty old man
nonetheless.  Did you see the way he looked at me during dinner?"
Well, the huge cudgel he held in his hand was a great equalizer
between the generations.  He'd teach her.  He'd see if she still
called him a dirty old man when his prick was rammed deep between
those white thighs of hers and its head buried far up inside her
quivering little belly.

He was only dimly aware of Morgan taking another photo.  The heat
was on him and it was all he could do to keep from leaping like a
starving wild animal upon his prey.  But common sense gained
control of his body.  The pictures, the ones that would bring her
crawling abjectly in helpless desperation to him and insure his
and Morgan's future safety, still had to be taken.

"Dorothy, dear," he intoned.  "Turn your head toward me."

"Yes, Roger," she answered, and her head turned on the pillow.

"Dorothy, it would give your husband great pleasure if you kissed
and sucked on his penis ... as much pleasure as it gives you when
he nibbles at your breast."

A troubled expression crossed the girl's face.  She hesitated.

Alarmed and wide-eyed, Lord Medwell turned toward the
photographer.  Morgan merely shook his head and put his finger to
his mouth in a charade of silence.

On the bed, the girl trembled and then, almost as if she were
frightened of being bitten by it, reached out her hand toward
Lord Medwell's cock.  The old man grinned in triumph and moved
forward until the straining organ was almost touching her lips. 
"Open your mouth, Dorothy."

She did as she was instructed, and the smooth, throbbing tip
slipped partially through her stretched lips and came to rest
against her bared teeth.  The soft flesh of the ripe full
puckered lips closed down about the head.  There was a flash of
light as Morgan took the picture.

Against his cock, Lord Medwell could feel the hot air exhaling
from her nostrils, and could feel her innocent young tongue
quivering in ignorance against the instrument in her mouth.

"Delicious," he muttered, "simply delicious.  Suck a little and
nibble a little, dear." He began moving his hips back and forth
as Morgan came in with another camera for a closeup.  Several
small droplets of cum had seeped from Lord Medwell's cock and had
lubricated her mouth that was surrounding its head.  Looking down
directly at her face, he could see a small stream of glistening
saliva and cum running out of the corner of her mouth.  Again,
for just a moment, the animal heat came upon him.  He wanted to
shoot his full load into her sweet young gullet ... wanted to see
her larynx jiggling up and down as she attempted to gulp it down;
he could picture it-his cum would spurt out of her mouth, into
her hair, and run like a white hot flow of lava across her
breasts and down her belly.  The mental image goaded him into a
sudden frantic motion and he was uncontrollably battering his
cock down her choking throat, the girl was gasping for air and
clawing at his buttocks when Morga
 n grinned nastily and said, "Easy, man.  We still have a few
pictures to take, remember?"

Lord Medwell reluctantly removed his cock from her mouth.  He had
come so close ... so very close.  He stood there breathing deeply
as he sought to regain his composure.  Finally he sighed and
said, "That was beautiful, Dorothy.  Now your husband will repay
pleasure for pleasure."

He reached down and removed the remaining strap of her gown, and
stared hungrily at the breast.  With a low moan of lust, his hot
eager lips fastened like a leech to it.  There was another flash
of light as he used his fingertips to tease the other nipple.

Beneath his lips, he heard a low groan of pleasure from the girl.
 She placed both hands gently and possessively behind his head. 
Lord Medwell glanced over and grinned in victory at Morgan.  His
lips went back to work, and his other hand dropped until it found
the moist hot cavern at the junction of her thighs.  He used his
finger -- as though it were a violin bow -- to scrape across the
length of her vaginal lips.  "Oh ... oh," she purred.

Dorothy began to breath more rapidly as the sensations mounted in
her body.  Lord Medwell used his thumb and forefinger to tease
her gently pulsating clitoris; this resulted in a low, almost
animalistic moaning, "Ohhhh ... Roger ... that feels wonderful. 
Bite me -- rub me harder!"

Lord Medwell suddenly crawled onto the bed and crouched on all
fours over the helpless young body.  "Dorothy, raise your legs
and put them up over my shoulders," he commanded.  The girl
paused, as if not understanding the instructions, but a moment
later subserviently bent her legs at the knees and spreading her
legs wide raised and placed her calves up over his shoulders. 
Lord Medwell pushed her knees back against her chest; her
upturned vagina, secreting its own lubricant, was in plain view
-- unprotected and vulnerable to any attack.  His mouth watered
in anticipation as he gazed rapturously down at the palpitating
little pussy.  Spittle slid out of his open mouth as he
lecherously ogled the open slit of her vagina running down from
her smooth white belly and dark silken pubic hair to the full
rounded spheres of her buttocks.  He could wait no longer to
feast down between her thighs.  His head lowered, his mouth
opened, and his tongue -- like a wet red miniature little pr
 ick -- came into action.

The girl gasped.  "Oh ... oh ... Roger!  You mustn't?  Oh ..."
She jerked as his lips encompassed and began sucking at the soft
hair-lined opening.  His tongue flickered like lightning against
the clitoris, which was beating visibly.  "Ohhh ... daddy ..."
Her hands came down and pressed against both sides of his head;
it was as though she didn't know whether to force him away or
force his tongue and face even deeper into the moist pit of her
throbbing cunt.  Now his tongue had begun seeking entry into the
vaginal passage itself.  It flicked in and out rapidly, little
licks and little strokes of passion that penetrated almost two
inches.  The girl's hands fell loosely from his head as she
groaned and began to rotate her hips in an effort to get his
tongue in deeper.

Lord Medwell was an expert at this sort of thing -- had been ever
since his early introduction and instruction in its finer arts by
a fiery French governess while he was still only ten years of
age.

Suddenly, he withdrew the tongue and his mouth from her now
responding vagina.  Dorothy groaned again, this time in
disappointment, but only for a second, for his tongue had begun
working again; its soft flicking tip made circles around the
quivering erected clitoris, and his lips sucked, drawing the
organ deeper into the hot saliva-filled cavern of his mouth. 
Then he abruptly changed techniques again.  Like a thirsty dog
lapping water, he used his tongue to lick the entire length of
her wet, rotating cuntal slit.  Dorothy's loud moans of pleasure
turned almost into a scream of delight when his tongue traced a
pattern of fire past her vagina and kept going down, down until
it made lewd, flicking entry into the tight, puckered little anal
ring.

Flashes from the camera -- like a summer electrical storm --
continued to brighten the room.

Lord Medwell was oblivious to them now.  He had the snooty little
bitch going; she squirmed and panted like a helpless puppet under
his tongue.  She could be brought back to her senses now and
she'd be so hot that she would beg him to continue.  She was
completely at his mercy.  Her mewls drove his tongue faster and
faster as it licked its way up and down the now wildly clasping
lips of her cunt.  She was almost there; he could tell by the
contractions of her vaginal muscles.  His muffled laughter came
as her hands desperately clawed at his head -- seeking to drive
his tongue further and further into her.  The hot happy bitch, he
thought; she doesn't realize that what she really wants right now
is a hard cock.  She'll be begging for it within seconds.

He pulled his face away, tormenting her.  Dorothy's face was
wildly contorted in what appeared to be pain.  She cried, and it
was a moaning plea, "No ... Roger.  Please, Roger ... keep
going."

Lord Medwell let her force him this time, and she did so,
frantically, pressing his mouth against her hungrily quivering
vagina.  His lips rounded and covered the clasping viscous
opening, and he thrust his tongue deep into it.  Her thighs
closed convulsively around either side of his moving head.  On
his inward strokes, he could feel her deeper vaginal muscles
sucking and milking at his tongue as though they were seeking to
rip it out by the roots and devour it.  Dorothy's legs had found
leverage against his back and she pushed down until he could
barely breathe.  With tongue deep in her vagina, he used the tip
of his nose to titillate the tiny throbbing clitoris.  Every
muscle in the girl's body seemed to be as taut as a steel cable.
The cords of her neck tendons stood out as she tried to raise her
head to look down her naked body and see what he was doing.

"Oh!  Ahhh?  Ahhhhaaa," she began, as if questioning exactly what
was happening to her.  Then she screamed, "Aiieee ... Ah ...
aiiieee, I'm cumming, darling!  I'm cumming!" Her body thrashed
from side to side, her legs splayed open releasing his head, and
her feet beat a tattoo of wild abandoned lust against the
crumpled sheets.

Lord Medwell didn't even glance over toward Morgan.  He could
stand it no longer.  Even as the girl was thrashing and twitching
involuntarily in the throes of her orgasm, he grabbed her
flailing legs behind the knees again and shoved them roughly back
against her shoulders.  His long rigid prick was placed against
the visibly throbbing lips of her cunt.

"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk," he said through
gritted teeth, and suddenly began pushing forward.  The elastic
rimmed tightness resisted his huge circumference for only a
moment, then rapidly gave way to his unrelenting pressure.  Down,
down, down, the pulsating white rod drove.

Dorothy tried to pull back from his attack.  "No, Roger," she
whimpered, "darling, you're hurting me."

Lord Medwell paused.  The contractions of her cunt continued to
squeeze at the head of his cock; he hadn't realized the girl's
pussy was so tight.  It fit his prick like a very tight leather
glove, and he thought with some glee that the girl undoubtedly
had been a virgin on her wedding night three days before.

She obviously had never had a prick this deep into her before, he
gloated to himself, as he watched her from above with a lust
filled smirk on his face.  Her lips had curled back from her
teeth.  Pleading, incoherent whimpers of pain came from deep
within her throat.

Abruptly, he could stand it no more.  He rammed forward giving
her all he had in one great implacable thrust; his huge expanded
cock sunk in all the way to his pubic hair, and his balls -- like
weathered pendulums -- slapped hard against her uplifted
buttocks.  Her legs jerked out wide on either side of his body as
she kicked futilely into the air and screamed, "Oh, God!  You're
killing me, Roger.  Please!"  It was a scream wrenched from the
deepest depths of her tortured womb.

As though he were demented, Lord Medwell screwed her brutally
down into the squeaking mattress -- pounding into her with the
uncontrollable fury of a typhoon.

Morgan watched with some amusement as the old goat went about his
business of ravishing the helpless girl.  He had already shot two
rolls of film on his tripod camera and had expended another two
rolls on closeups.  The girl's face was too distorted by pain to
take any photos at the moment, but Morgan knew that her
expression would change once her tight young pussy got used to
the old man's cock.  You bad to hand it to him, he thought in
admiration as he watched the white pistoning rod being driven
relentlessly into the girl's tightly clenched vagina.  Medwell's
hung like a small stallion.

Even as Morgan was thinking these thoughts, the girl's body
seemed to be reacting slightly different.  Her groans of pain
came less often now; they sounded different -- questioning,
perhaps.  Once, when Lord Medwell had pulled his prick out about
six inches and then driven it inward with one masterful stab, the
girl had moaned and an unmistakable flicker of pleasure crossed
her contorted face.

A moment later, there was an almost imperceptible change in
activity on the bed.  Morgan saw it first, simply a small motion
on the part of the girl as she pushed up to meet a downward
thrust.  The rest came rapidly; the young bride's eyes were
beginning to glaze in pleasure, and her tongue had crept out of
her mouth to rest quivering on her lower lip.  It presented a
lustful picture; Morgan lost no time in capturing her lewd
changing expression on film.

Now the girl was moving, experimentally rotating her hips and
putting her arms around Lord Medwell's midriff.  Not satisfied
with this, she reached down and cupped his buttocks in the palms
of her hands and began of her own volition forcing him deeper
into her.

Lord Medwell could hardly contain himself as he felt her abdomen
begin moving up and down in time to the thrusts of his hardened
cock.  The contracting muscles inside her pussy were hungrily at
work massaging and sucking at the inflated head.  With each
withdrawal of his long white cock, the pink lips of the vagina
pulled and milked at the instrument.  The girl was a natural born
piece of ass, he thought in glee, as her quivering body pumped up
and down on the rigid penis fusing the two bodies together.

Morgan had begun to feel some excitement growing within himself
as he watched the girl strain against the older man.  When she
raised her ass from the mattress, he could see the little brown
puckered anal entrance already covered with trickling cum.  And
he thought happily, eagerly: You're next, little asshole, you're
next!  I've got just the thing for you.  Morgan took photographs
of it all, capturing on film the utter abandon of her labours and
the half-crazed erotic smile of lust playing across her taut
lips.  She was moving even faster than the old man now, and
thrusts had become more violent as she desperately sought her
second orgasm.  Above the tortured creaking of the bed and the
almost obscene slap of flesh against flesh, Morgan could actually
hear the wet sluicing sounds of her hungrily sucking pussy as it
reluctantly relinquished its hold on the lustfully driving cock
sunk deeply between her thighs.

Suddenly the girl's back arched and she pushed upward with a
frightening power that almost threw the old man out of the
saddle.  "Ooooh God ... I'm cumming, love me.  Fuck harder ...
fuck fuck ... fuck, fucker, Roger ... Oh, God ... I'm cumming."
With a deep throated groan: her body began convulsing in lewd
untamed pleasure.  Hot wet cum spurted from the throbbing
passage.  It's sticky warmth flowed down the crevice created by
her buttocks; the viscous fluid inundated her anus -- bringing an
impatient groan from Morgan.  She jerked about frantically, as
though she were suffering seizure.  She clawed at the old man's
back; her legs pumped against him as she sought to drive him in
deeper.  Lord Medwell's face was taut as he sought his own
release; he rammed his reaming cock forward with all his fading
strength.  His body drooped down heavily on her, mashing her full
ripe tits against his own hairy chest.  His long hard strokes
moved violently in and out of the steaming passage
 that was now wet and slippery from the girl's continuing climax.
 Abruptly, he could feel the orgasm building up like explosive
fumes inside his tortured balls as they beat against her
unprotected ass.  The lustful pleasure arched across the nerves
of his abdomen and his prick throbbed once, twice ... then began
to spurt.

"Oh, yes, darling.  Cum in me ... cum all the way inside of me,
Roger." Dorothy chanted as her head rolled laxly from side to
side and she frantically pumped her vagina up and down the long
spurting rod of flesh in an effort to drain it of everything.

Lord Medwell felt the hot slippery walls of her cunt sucking
hungrily at his cock until there was nothing left in him, and his
hardened organ began to deflate.

The girl lay back full-length in bed, with his prick still buried
inside her.  "That was wonderful, darling," she said, huskily. 
Her eyes closed in weary pleasure.

Lord Medwell slowly pulled his slippery penis from the girl.  She
moaned as though reluctant to have it leave her body.

Morgan, who had been becoming increasingly impatient, took a last
closeup as the prick slowly slid out of her battered cunt.  He
could see the girl's wet matted pubic hair -- like black moss
hanging over a peaceful river bank -- glistening on both sides of
her vagina.  The insides of her milky white thighs were smeared
with the cum from both of their bodies.  The open crevice of her
ass was completely wet from it, and Morgan knew he could stand
the sight no longer.  If ever a woman was lubricated and ready
for sodomizing this one was.  He already knew how it would feel
-- hot, tight ... oh, so very tight!  ... and beautiful.

"Hurry," he grunted to Lord Medwell, as be dropped his trousers.
His own cock, like a lean telephone pole angled on the side of a
hill, was stiffly ready.

Lord Medwell wearily dried his wet penis on his underdrawers and
put on his trousers.  A moment later he was standing behind the
tripod camera.  "All right," he said.  "Ready any time you are."

Morgan said to the girl, "Dorothy ... I am your husband, Roger. 
Say something to me."

The girl scrunched herself deeper into the bed and mumbled
hypnotically, Roger, darling, I love you."

Morgan said, "Dorothy, darling, don't you want to repay your
husband for the pleasure I just gave you.  It would be nice if
you sucked on my penis."

There was no hesitation this time.  Dorothy turned her head and
opened her mouth.  There was a flash of light and Lord Medwell
nodded.

"Now, Dorothy, I'm going to make love to you in a new and
excitingly different way.  Get on your hands and knees ... that's
right, and spread your legs out wide."

The girl did as she was told.  Lord Medwell moved in with the
closeup camera.  Morgan used both thumbs to peel the smooth white
cheeks of her tender young buttocks apart to reveal the
quivering, puckered little brown circle no larger than a dime. 
Really he thought in ecstasy, it looks like an oval of tiny pink
lips.  He rubbed his prick in the crevice, lubricating it from
Lord Medwell and the girl's cum.  The girl winced when Morgan
inserted his middle finger into the opening.  He moved it in and
out, and around and around.  The girl moaned in pain when a
second finger joined the first.  Then Morgan could stand it no
longer: Placing the tip of his hardened cock against the tight,
puckered nether lips; he plunged forward ...

The photograph was taken just as the head of Morgan's cock
disappeared through the tight resisting ring of anal muscle. 
Lord Medwell continued to shoot pictures as Morgan gleefully
pounded his prick into her vaginal rectum and until her groans of
pain became mewls of pleasure and surprise and finally of
screaming release as her helplessly impaled body reacted
orgasmically like a bitch dog in heat to the unnatural invasion
of her bowels.


                        *     *     *


Downstairs, the clock struck twice.  Lord Medwell helped Morgan
change the badly stained and wet linens on the bed, as the girl
stood blank-eyed and stiff near the closet.

"Get back in bed, Dorothy," Morgan ordered.

The girl walked like a zombie across the room and climbed into
bed.

Morgan pulled the covers up to her shoulders, the began intoning,
"You are sleepy ... sleep.  When you awaken tomorrow morning at
nine o'clock, you will not remember that we were here.  Anything
you will recall will be simply a dream about your husband.  Do
you understand?  You have been dreaming about Roger fucking you.
Say it!"

 "I ... have ... been dreaming ... about Roger ... fucking ...
me."

"Yes, you have been dreaming.  You are sleepy.  Your eyes are so
heavy that you cannot open them.  You are sleepy ... sleepy."

The girl slumbered peacefully.

Morgan glanced at his watch.  "Two fifteen.  It's almost time for
'Roger dear' to wake up next to my wife.  Care to bring your
camera along and take candid snapshots."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, old boy," Lord Medwell laughed
lewdly.  "Wouldn't miss it for the world.  If his pecker reacts
half as well as that hot little cunt of his wife's, it should be
quite a show." He clapped his hands together in eagerness.  "I
can hardly wait until tomorrow afternoon when we show that
arrogant little bitch our photographs.  How overwhelming.  How
simply delightful!  She'll come crawling to me then.  Oh, she'll
do anything.  Anything!" he gleefully repeated.  "And she'll do
it fully conscious!"

The two men were still chuckling as they walked the darkened
corridors of the castle.  When they reached the east wing, Morgan
pulled down on the handle of a sword on a suit of knight's
armour.  The hidden door swung silently open to reveal a
well-lighted passageway.  Two minutes later, they were seated in
comfortable armchairs and drinking whiskey and sodas, as they
watched -- through the large pane of one-way glass -- a young man
slowly beginning to awaken next to a voluptuous nude woman who
looked up directly at them and winked conspiratorially.  Then her
face changed.  She looked as if she had been weeping, and when
the boy's eyes opened, she sobbed, "You beast, you.  How could
you ... after we had offered you the hospitality of the castle
... to cruelly rape me ... Oh, Roger!  And I was beginning to be
so fond of you.  What will poor Dorothy think ..."


                        *     *     *


The following afternoon, a bewildered and ashamed Dorothy
"crawled" for her pictures, and then learned that she must
continue to be nice for as long as Morgan and Lord Medwell and
their assorted friends decreed.  Only then would she receive the
negatives.  Precisely thirty-two minutes later -- the seminal
juices of two strangers in her mouth, vagina and anus -- she
leapt like a wingless bird from the roof of the castle and
splattered against the cobblestone courtyard 90 feet below ...




                          Chapter 1


The young girl -- fourteen, freckled-faced, and with a
surprisingly mature body for one her age -- was dressed in
skin-tight white shorts and was braless beneath her powder blue
blouse.  She lay 'crosswise on the bed, and stared up at an older
girl who was standing before a mirror and running a comb through
long blonde hair.

"But aren't you excited?" Marylou asked, shivering in vicarious
enjoyment.  "I mean ... I would be!  After all, your wedding is
only two days away, and then you and Dick go to that groovy
castle place in Ireland for your honeymoon.  Why, you must be
excited."

"Of course I am, silly." Sue's voice was patient with her cousin.
 "I'm happy and excited.  But I'm also calm." That last statement
was a lie, but Marylou couldn't know it.  The younger girl
couldn't see the turmoil Sue felt, the oppressive feeling of
apprehension that bordered on fear.

"It must be wonderful to be really in love and be old enough to
get married ... and wake up in bed next to your husband." Marylou
put a hand to her mouth and giggled.  "I mean my husband.  If I
had a husband."

"Marylou?" Sue's voice had just a bit of shock in it; she gazed
in mock severity at the girl and began weaving a thick braid into
her hair.

Marylou's face was cupped in her hands; elbows were planted on
the bedspread.  The girl obviously decided to throw all caution
to the winds with her next remark.  "Well, isn't a bed better
than a back seat?"

"Marylou!" Sue threw down the comb and spun around to face the
girl.  "What are you talking about?"

"What else?  Sex?"

Marylou had the bit in her teeth and was not to be denied.  She
abruptly sat up and curled her bare legs beneath her -- sitting
buddha- like on the bed.  "If I tell you something, will you keep
it a secret?"

"I don't want to hear it," Sue said, emphatically.  She was
pretty sure of the drift of the conversation; this was nothing to
discuss with a girl only fourteen.  She hadn't even talked to her
mother about it, even though the older woman had hinted broadly
that they must have a conversation before the wedding.

Marylou looked toward the closed door of the bedroom as if
suspecting someone were lurking outside at the keyhole.  Then she
lowered her voice and said, "I know you won't snitch." She
grinned conspiratorially.  "I'm not a virgin, you know."

The news momentarily shocked Sue, although if she were really
honest with herself, the information did not come as a surprise.
Marylou showed all the signs of becoming a swinger, and she
already had the build of a 22-year-old bikini model.

The girl continued almost proudly, "I haven't been one for almost
a year.  It was Petey Barnard.  After the final football game
last October ... after he was appointed head cheerleader.  We had
a bottle of beer and it made me dizzy, and then he ... began
feeling me.  And, ah ... asked me to feel him.  Then he got in
the backseat of his car and ... ah ..."

"I don't want to hear another word." Sue's voice brooked no
disobedience.  "Not another word." She shook her head in dismay.
"I'm shocked at you, Marylou, really shocked.  You're either
fibbing or you just blithely gave away your virginity.  Just like
that," she snapped her fingers.  "Just like you were giving away
old clothes or something.  I think you'd have more respect for
yourself."

Marylou merely shrugged and her breasts jiggled with the motion.
She replied, somewhat defiantly, "It was fun.  It felt good.  And
I've let him do it five other times, too.  We're going steady. 
We love each other.  And everyone in school does it.  Why not?"

"Why not?  Well, I'll tell you why not.  What does a fourteen
year old know about love?  What if your parents found out?  What
if the police discovered you and Petey in the back seat when you
were ... you were?  What if you get pregnant as a result of it?

Marylou snorted.  "Oh, poo!  I won't get pregnant.  I'm not that
dumb.  Why, I wouldn't have let him do it the first time if he
hadn't been wearing a rubber."

Sue held up both hands commandingly.  "I said before I don't want
to hear anymore.  I mean it."

The younger girl shrugged again.  "Okay.  Okay."  She critically
inspected Sue, then cocked her head to one side and bit her lower
lip in indecision.  "You're a cool chick ... real cool.  But I
wouldn't be surprised if you're still a virgin, even though Dick
looks to me like he's the impatient type.  He's probably snorting
and pawing the stable floor." She wiggled her eyebrows
suggestively.

Sue strode to the door and angrily opened it.  "Out," she
commanded.

Marylou insolently got up from the bed and stuck her feet into
her sandals.  Smirking knowingly, she walked across the room and
stopped in the archway of the door.  "I wouldn't have believed it
-- a girl as beautiful, as well built as you, a girl who has been
engaged for over a year -- still a virgin.  Like wow!"

"Yes, damnit.  I am still a virgin ... and I am proud of it.  Not
that it's any of your business."

Marylou held out her hands beseechingly, "Okay ... okay.  Don't
get mad.  I was just curious.  I never have seen a 20-year-old
virgin before." She was grinning impudently as Sue closed the
door in her face.

Impertinent little snip, Sue thought; My God, what are these high
school kids coming too!  She knew Marylou wasn't putting her on;
the girl was telling the truth about Petey.  A moment later,
though Sue's inherent common sense took over and she realized
that only a strong will power had kept her, too, from losing her
virginity.  Marylou had been right about Dick, he was the
"impatient" type ... but he was also understanding.  He had
proved that time and time again.

She and Dick had gone steady for almost two years before their
engagement; and they had been engaged for almost twelve months
now.  While they were going steady, they had necked -- some
really passionate kissing had come about, but when Dick had begun
fumbling for her breasts, she had managed to stop him each time.
Since their engagement was announced and she received her ring,
there had been some petting -- at least on his part.  She had
permitted him the possession of her breasts and, three or four
times, he had been allowed to touch that sacred area which would
be completely his only after the marriage ceremony.  Sue had been
forced to put a stop to his eager odysseys down there because of
an underlying fear that she, herself, would lose all control.  It
did feel wonderful; that, at least, she could admit. 
Unfortunately, after these episodes, she would lie awake all
night feeling the restless pounding of her heart being echoed
deep within her womb.  One night -- for the
 first and only time -- the throbbing had become so painfully
intense that she had touched herself there with one finger.  She
moved it cautiously, and her lonely vagina cried out in ecstasy.
A second finger joined the first, the two of them gently rubbing
back and forth on the now damp slit.  The motions had become less
tender -- more rapid!  She had continued this for almost fifteen
minutes, but aside from her vagina becoming too tender to touch,
nothing happened.  She hadn't even come close to that elusive
realm of physical release mentioned in various books.  She tossed
and turned all night -- sleeping fitfully.  The next morning she
awakened to a deep sense of shame -- a feeling that still came
back with the full force of its guilty intensity each time she
thought about it.

But now all that is past, she thought, as she finished braiding
her hair.  A moment later, she slipped on a blue cardigan sweater
to match her muted blue-plaid mini-skirt, and started downstairs.
 Marylou, bright-eyed and undaunted, met her at the landing. 
"Like, wow!  You're really getting some groovy loot," she said. 
"There must be a couple of tons of crap in there."

Sue laughed in spite of herself, "Marylou, you are hopeless."

"Come on, let's see the stuff that came this morning." Marylou
eagerly led the way to the living room where the already opened
wedding gifts were piled atop each table as though they were
luxury items on display in a small department store.  Other gifts
-- unopened -- were stacked on the floor.  Marylou picked up one
and shook it.  "Try this one -- from the Wilsons."

It was impossible not to laugh at the girl: she was as excited as
a four year old under a Christmas tree.  Sue cautiously unwrapped
the gift, taking care not to ruin the white satin ribbon, and
saving the paper.

"Holy Donovan!  A Waring blender.  Neat-o!" Marylou's exuberance
was contagious.  She grinned and affectionately put her arms
around her cousin.  "Come on," she said, "you can help me open
them.  But keep the ribbon, and the paper ... and the boxes.  And
don't get the cards mixed up.  Better write down what the gift is
on each of the cards, so I can write thank you letters later."

The two girls had been working almost an hour opening and
recording the new gifts when the telephone rang.

Sue, thinking it was Dick, answered it on the second ring.

"Sue ... this is Peggy Martini.  Your gown's ready for final
fitting.  When can you try it on?"

"I'll come right over ... if that's convenient for you."

"Come ahead, dear.  I think you're going to be very pleased with
it."

"Oh, I'm sure I will be," Sue said ecstatically; then, as the
doorbell rang, she shouted over her shoulder, "Marylou, get that,
will you?"

"Be sure and bring the undergarments you're going to wear at the
wedding," Mrs. Martini added.  "We want the gown to be just
right."

"I'll be there in about five minutes." Sue said, hanging up, and
looking toward the door where the deliveryman from Holman's
Department Store and Marylou were both carrying in additional
gifts.  Three different trips were made between the front door
and the truck.  Sue signed the delivery slips while Marylou was
busy counting and shaking packages.

"Golly, seventeen more gifts ... and this one weighs about thirty
pounds," Marylou's excited voice reported.  "Shall we open them?"

"I can't right now.  Mrs. Martini wants to do the final fitting."
Sue saw the disappointed look on the girl's face.  "Hey, why not
come along to Mrs. Martini's with me?"

"Oh ... I'd like to, but Petey and I are going swimming.  He's
picking me up here in about twenty minutes or so.  How long will
you be?  Will you be back before he comes?"

"I doubt it.  The fitting probably will take at least an hour."

Marylou looked down at the rug and traced an abstract pattern
with her big toe.  "I don't suppose you'll change your mind about
the hayride tonight?" she asked hopefully.  "Petey and I wouldn't
bother anyone.  Honest.  I promise!"

"I'm sorry, chicken.  No.  There will be liquor and, besides,
everyone there will be in their twenties.  We'll be just a bunch
of old fogeys."

"Okay ... of you don't want us."

"Look," Sue said in an effort to make the girl feel better, "I'll
save some packages for you to open tomorrow.  Okay?"

"Ummm ... I suppose so." It was said listlessly.

Sue picked up her purse.  "I've got to go.  Be sure and lock up
before you leave."

Five minutes later, Sue was in a dressing room at Mrs. Martini's.
 She quickly slipped on the blue lacy garter belt and her hose. 
"Now, dear, lift your hands straight up," Mrs. Martini ordered. 
"No quick moves; the gown is just tacked.  We don't want it
falling apart." Sue felt the rich nylon garment slip down over
her arms and bead.  She looked at herself in the mirror.  The
gown clung to her like a second skin.  Mrs. Martini zipped up the
long zipper in back then stood away to inspect her work. 
"Beautiful.  Just beautiful!" Mrs. Martini's face grinned over
Sue's shoulder in the mirror.  "You like?" she asked, fitting a
veil over Sue's blonde hair.

"Oh, yes!" the girl answered sincerely.  "It's ... it's just ..."
She closed her eyes, unable to think of the appropriate phrase. 
It is so beautiful, she thought; Dick will love me in it.

The older woman smiled in understanding.  "Well, that's all then.
 We'll sew it up this afternoon; I'll deliver it on Sunday around
one."

"You mean ... that's all?  Nothing more for me to do?"

"Nothing," she said airily.  "All you have to do is step into it
Sunday at three, and then walk down the aisle."

Mrs. Martini helped her out of the gown, and Sue dressed again in
her blue sweater and plaid skirt.  She glanced at her watch and
was surprised to see that only ten minutes had elapsed.  "Maybe
Marylou will get to open some more packages after all," she said
to herself.

It was a pleasant day, Sue noted, as she walked the two blocks
back to her home.  Sue felt like skipping, and she did ... for a
second or two until she remembered to be ladylike.  She hoped the
clear warm weather would hold until Sunday at least.  She hoped
it would be nice weather in Ireland.  She hoped so many things,
"But mainly I hope Dick and I will be happy together." She was
humming a tune when she turned the corner and saw Petey's car in
the driveway.  Her step faltered; she abruptly remembered
Marylou's candid confession about being intimate with the
cheerleader.  The boy was only fifteen, he might even be fourteen
-- not yet handsome, but fairly good-looking, with a pleasing
personality.  He had a certain poise; Marylou had undoubtedly
helped to bring part of that about.  During the Spring semester,
he played shortstop on the high school baseball team -- was too
small of stature and build for football -- and had earned his
letter.  Marylou and he made a rather attra
 ctive couple of teenagers, Sue thought.  Still, though, they
were teenagers and should not have been physically intimate.

Knowing what she did, Sue was sure that she would be unable to
hide her mixed emotions if she faced the boy, so she walked
around the side of the house and came quietly in the back way. 
She had planned to stay in the kitchen until he and Marylou left
to go swimming.  Obviously, they would have to be leaving in a
minute or two.

The house was quiet -- too quiet, she thought.  Surely the young
couple had left.  For a moment, Sue deliberated calling Marylou's
name, then decided she would just walk in unannounced.  After
all, it was her home!  Sue left the kitchen and went through the
alcove next to the living room.  She was about to slide the doors
open when she heard what sounded like a low cry of pain. 
Puzzled, she peered through the crack and then froze in shock and
amazement.  There, stretched out full length on the couch, were
Petey and Marylou.  The girl's white gym shorts had been unzipped
and -- together with her white nylon panties -- were down about
her knees.  Her blouse was open all the way, and Petey's mouth
was glued to her right breast.  Even as Sue watched Marylou
groaned again -- and Sue realized it was not a cry of pain, but
of delight.  The boy's middle finger was sawing away in maniacal
fury at the junction of Marylou's widely outspread legs.  Her
young pelvis was moving up and dow
 n in an effort to capture and hold on to the elusive digit. 
From her vantage point, Sue could even see the enlarged pink
clitoris almost as large as an infant's penis.

Sue knew she should go away -- go back to the kitchen -- and
perhaps slam a door as if she had just entered.  Then she could
call out Marylou's name; that would give the boy and girl a
chance to get into their clothes.  But then she also knew that
she wouldn't be able to face either one of them after what she
was viewing now.  Her attention snapped back to the front room as
Marylou arched her back up off the sofa and began to pant
hoarsely.  "I'm cumming, Petey," she cried once, then fell back,
her face twisted in a lewd expression of delight and her legs
beating against the leather couch.

After her movements had slowed, Petey took his finger away and
lifted his mouth from her breast.  He slid one knee over her
thigh, as he began fumbling with his zipper.  "Put it in for me,
huh?" he requested.

"No!  I told you no." Marylou said.  In spite of the fact that
her eyes were closed in satiation, there was no mistaking her
adamant tone of voice.

"Please!" It was a frantic plea from the boy.

 Marylou sighed in exasperation and opened her eyes.  "I told you
before you started messing around.  It's the dangerous time of
the month for me, and even if it wasn't, you'd still have to have
protection.  You know that!"

"Oh, God.  I'm dying," the boy wailed.

Marylou sat up on one box.  She had a very patient expression on
her face.  "Lie on your back," she ordered, and turned on her
side to give him more room.

Petey did as he was told.  She suddenly realized that Marylou
knew exactly what to do ... had probably done this many times
before.  Even as she watched, Marylou expertly unfastened the
boy's belt, undid the waistband hook, and then unzipped the
trousers.  His jockey shorts were bulging.  Marylou's hand
slipped in the opening and withdrew the penis.

She was frozen; she couldn't have moved now even if the house had
been hit by an earthquake.  She had never seen anything like this
before, although she knew it must happen all the time between
some boys and girls.  It had almost happened with her and Dick. 
That didn't change the situation; it was still lewd, dangerous,
and wicked.  Marylou's hand encircled the virile instrument at a
point just below the head of the organ.  She began moving her
hand up and down, up and down.  Petey lay back with a blissful
look on his face, his eyelids fluttering, and his breath coming
rapidly.

"Let me know," Marylou said.

"Yeh ... yeh ..." it was a hoarse grunt.

Less than thirty seconds later, Petey raised his buttocks off the
couch and his face twisted in a grimace, "Ahh ... ahhh," was all
he said, but the communication was obviously effective for
Marylou quickly used her other hand to pull up the jockey shorts
just as the first white spurts of the boy's sperm came flooding
through the subterranean channels of his penis.  Marylou
continued to stroke him -- more gently now -- and on her face was
an unfathomable look that might have been either pleasure or
satisfaction.  Finally her hand motions stopped.  She grinned
down at the boy.  "Feel better, sugar?" Sue asked softly.

"Ummm.  God, yes," Petey sighed.  "It's not as good as the real
thing -- like fucking inside of you ... but it's better than
nothing."

Marylou laughed, "And better than doing it yourself?"

"Hey now.  I don't ..."

"You do," and she hit him playfully, "doesn't everyone?"

After a moment, Marylou brought her hand out from beneath his
jockey shorts.  Sue could see the hand was all wet; it glistened
in the reflected light.  Marylou calmly wiped her hand on the
tail of his tee shirt.  Petey turned his head toward her;
Marylou's breast was only three inches away from his mouth.  He
parted his lips, his tongue came out and licked the erect brown
nipple.

With a look of rapture on her face, Marylou put her hand behind
his head and pulled him closer to her.  His mouth opened all the
way as he seemingly attempted to devour the entire breast.  "Ummm
... that's wonderful." Then, abruptly, she pulled away from him
and was very businesslike.  "That's enough," she said in mock
sternness.  "We'd better get going.  Sue will be back in a few
minutes.  Come on ... get up, lazy." She prodded him with her
knee.

Reluctantly, Petey stood up and faced the alcove door behind
which Sue was hiding.  His levis were down around his knees, and
he stood straddle-legged to keep them from slipping down any
further.  In an attempt to straighten out his sopping wet jockey
shorts, he was forced to lower them to about mid-thigh.  Sue saw
his cum-covered penis, flaccid now and only about two and a half
inches long.  He used the lower part of his tee shirt to dry it,
and the vigorous drying motions started the organ swelling and
elongating again.  Marylou unconcernedly got off the couch, and
Sue was able to see sparse young triangle of pubic hair before
the white nylon panties and tight white gym shorts hid it from
sight.  Casually, the girl buttoned up her blouse, all the while
smiling affectionately at the boy.  A moment later, arm in arm
and giggling, they left; this was followed by the sound of
Petey's car starting up.

Sue suddenly realized that she was debilitated -- so weak that
her legs were almost unable to support her weight.  She felt
shame at having acted as a "Peeping Tom", but more than that, she
could feel a sense of forbidden excitement that raged like a wild
fire in her own loins and brought a hot fevered dampness between
her thighs.  For a moment, when the boy and girl had been
petting, it seemed almost as if Sue herself were being fondled. 
Woodenly, she slid the door open and walked to the couch.  She
reached out one trembling hand and touched the leather.  No, it
hadn't been a dream.  The leather was still warm from the heat of
their bodies and, in one place where Marylou had lain with her
bare buttocks pressed against the sofa.  She could feel dampness
where the girl's love juices had flowed down between her legs to
the couch itself.

She sat down and thought about what she had seen.  The
performance of the two teenagers was wrong.  Not only wrong, but
sinful and dangerous.  Yet, on the other hand, it had seemed such
a natural thing and so very enjoyable!  She had no doubt that the
real act of sexual intercourse between Petey and Marylou would be
just as natural -- accepted just as calmly.  And her thoughts
moved on to her relationship with Dick.  When she permitted Dick
to fondle her, she had known excitement ... at least for a few
happy, beautiful moments.  Always, though, she had become
frightened as she felt her senses drifting away leaving her body
helpless to any onslaught.  And so, she had tightened up each
time.  As for touching Dick's penis ... no matter how much Dick
wanted her to caress him, she couldn't bring herself to do it. 
His male organ frightened her.  Even though she had never seen
it, she knew it was much, much larger than Petey's.

Sue picked up a wedding gift.  "Everything will be much better
after the wedding," she said aloud, and felt immediate depression
because she was pretty sure it wouldn't be that much better.  She
forced herself to grin and began ripping the paper off the
package.  "I am just having prewedding jitters.  Every bride has
them.  Don't they?" And she laughed humorlessly with the
realization she was talking to herself.  More than once during
the next hour her eyes fastened on the couch, and she found
herself wondering what it would be like if she and Dick ...

Five hours later, when Dick came to pick her up for the
traditional "final date" before marriage, the combination of
perturbation and forbidden excitement still racked her body.  She
met Dick at the door, threw her arms around his waist, and kissed
him warmly.  As she pressed her body in close to him, she could
sense his surprise at her uninhibited welcome.  Her mouth opened
to receive his tongue and her own tongue quivered and played
effusively with his.

Dick, delighted with the greeting, drew back and asked, "What
gives here?"

"I can kiss my husband-to-be, can't I?" she said, grinning in
what she hoped was a wicked manner.

"Anytime, baby.  Anyway!" They clenched again, then drew quickly
apart as Sue's mother banged a door at the top of the stairs and
came down.

"Good evening, Richard," she said, primly, not smiling.

"Hello, Mrs. Ogden.  How are you this evening?"

"Not very well, thank you.  I have a headache." Silence settled
over the group.  Sue finally broke it by taking Dick's arm and
saying, "Don't wait up, Mother.  It'll probably be after midnight
before we get back from the hayride."

Mrs. Ogden stared at Sue, then nodded.  "Have a good time," she
said, and it was obvious the statement was made perfunctorily.

Dick opened the door for Sue and led the way to his side of the
convertible.  She slid in, showing more thigh than she usually
showed, and didn't bother to pull down her skirt when Dick got
behind the wheel.  His mind was on something else, it seemed. 
"Brrr," he said, shivering as though he were freezing.  "It was a
bit cold in there tonight."

Sue quickly put her hand over his.  "Mother means well."

"Sure," he answered, starting the car and backing out of the
driveway.  "Just like last week when I told her to cheer up; that
she wasn't losing a, daughter, she was gaining a son.  She looked
at me like I was something that had crawled out of the apple pie
and said, 'I am losing a daughter.'"

"Everything will be all right," Sue said, moving over until her
hip was touching his.

Dick looked down at her legs and breasts, grinned, and said,
"Everything is perfect already."

She dimpled and replied, "Thank you, kind sir," and felt the
happiness well up in her.

Dick drove quickly -- surely -- driving with one hand, with his
other arm around her shoulders.  His tape deck was playing
something soft -- something for people in love.  Neither of them
spoke as they drove out of town, heading toward the farm where
the haywagon ride was to originate.  They were the last to
arrive.  Other couples were already in the wagon, and shouting
impatiently for the evening to begin.  Several bottles of hard
liquor were in evidence, being passed around to be drunk
straight.  Sue had a mouthful of straight bourbon and coughed as
it burned its way down her throat to her empty stomach.

Someone began singing as the two horses pulled the wagon across
the countryside.  With the coming of darkness, the various
couples began snuggling down into the sweet--smelling hay.  There
were muffled giggles from the girls and occasional barks of
laughter from the boys.  Sue knew all of the others on the ride
-- most of them had been friends since kindergarten.  They were a
nice bunch of kids, she thought.

Dick pulled her down deeper into the hay, and she found herself
almost buried in it, and lying full-length and pressed against
him.  The image of Petey and Marylou came to her at once, but she
forced it out of her mind by asking, "Happy?"

"Uh-huh.  You?"

In reply, she kissed him and found his mouth partially open:
without volition, her tongue swam into his mouth.  He savagely
returned the kiss, and the excitement Sue had felt earlier began
creeping back again.  Now Dick's hands cautiously touched her
breasts.  Even through the sweater and blouse and slip and
brassiere, she had felt the electricity between them.

The spell was momentarily broken when from the other side of the
wagon, Sally Miller, the pert little redhead who was to serve as
bridesmaid on Sunday, said very loudly, "Harvey Johnson.  You
stop that.  You just behave yourself.  You hear?" The remark was
followed by ribald laughter from all the boys, including Dick. 
Even the driver, a 70-year- old coloured man, doubled up in
laughter.

A second later, Dick began kissing her again.  Their two tongues
sparred, and she felt his hands becoming more sure of themselves
when she did not protest.  Lying as they were, face to face, Sue
was also becoming very aware of the hard bulge beneath his
trousers, which confessed his desire.  She wanted to reach down
there and caress him the way Marylou had caressed Petey; she was
steeling herself to do it when his hands moved beneath her
sweater and his knee moved between her thighs, separating them.

She made no effort to halt his fumbling efforts to unfasten the
bra clasp, trusting him and herself.  His movements, concealed by
the straw and the night, were successful.  A delicious moment
later, his bare hand was on her naked breast; his fingers played
over the nipple and he lovingly squeezed the firm, full mound of
flesh.  Never before had it felt so delightful to her.  His
tongue had become imperative, his movements almost frantic.  His
hips buffeted against her pelvis.  She found herself panting --
wanting him to stop, yet deep inside wanting him to go ahead
forever.  She wanted him to kiss and bite her breasts the way
Petey had with Marylou.  She was only vaguely aware of the
clopping of the horses' hooves and the murmuring sounds of other
couples who had also buried themselves in the anonymity of the
hay.  No doubt everyone was necking furiously, she thought. 
Suddenly, the breath went right out of her body.  With one
unhesitating smooth motion, Dick's hand slid up h
 er thigh, dug itself under the thin elastic leg band of her
panties, and touched the hot, moist lips of her now fevered
vagina.  Oh, God!  She had been dying for him to do this ... and
now she didn't want him to.  Immediately she dropped her arm and
tried to pull his hand away; she also attempted to move her mouth
from his.  She was helpless, so weak.  She was almost beside
herself as he began massaging the hot throbbing passage between
her legs.  Once, his thumb and forefinger tweaked the sensuously
tingling clitoris and a shower of ecstasy sparked through her
groin.  He began using his other arm to force her hand down
toward the awesome bulge in his pants.  She could feel reason
leaving her; it was insane.  "No ... no!" she cried aloud and
struggled upright.  No one noticed her.

Sue saw him looking at her, wild-eyed and trembling.  Finally he
seemed to gain control of himself and nodded that it was safe to
come back into his arms.  She did so, trembling like a person
afflicted with epilepsy, and kissed him gently on the lips.  The
bulge in his trousers felt even larger now, and she could feel it
beating like a second heart against her bare thigh.

She had almost decided she would do something about relieving
him, when the driver shouted to someone, and Sue heard Sally
Miller's voice, "Hey, everybody, we're here!" The wagon made a
half circle and stopped at the bank of a river.  A huge bonfire
was scattering sparks to the night.  The smell of broiling steaks
came on the wind.  A keg of beer was tapped as one of the farm
hands began playing a guitar.  Dinner was followed by a round of
singing as the bonfire slowly died down.  One by one, the couples
began drifting into the perimeter's darkness.

Sue felt Dick's hand pulling her to her feet.  Arm in arm they
walked down the dark beach.  They had almost reached the end of
the sand bar when he suddenly stiffened and whispered, "Shhh. 
There's someone out there." Sue could hear the muffled groans and
something that sounded suspiciously like the sound of body
slapping against body.  "What is it?" she whispered,
half-frightened, not knowing what lay out there in the darkness.

She saw Dick grin and he put his mouth against her ear.  "I think
it's Sally Miller and Harvey Johnson.  Come on, let's see."

Sue held back.  "That wouldn't be nice," she hissed.  "We
shouldn't."

"Come on," Dick insisted, and took her hand.  "Be quiet."

They moved silently across the beach heading toward the little
gully that separated the sand bar from the bank.  Dick pulled her
low to the ground in order to cut down their silhouette.  They
peered over the bank.

Sue made an audible gasp, which was quickly shut off by Dick's
hand over her mouth.  Her eyes were wide in amazement.  There,
down below them, only about ten feet away, were two nude bodies.
Sally Miller's naked white thighs were spread wide and jerking
frantically in the air as Harvey Johnson lay heavily between
them.  She saw Harvey's buttocks raise, revealing a huge white
rod of glistening flesh in the moonlight; the rod was sunk deep
between Sally's open thighs!  Harvey thrust it forward and the
girl's naked vagina rose to meet it in midair.  She squealed out
in delight.  Faster, faster, the two bodies moved against each
other.  Sally's breath was coming in loud, short, puppy-dog-like
pants and her movements were frantic.  "Fuck me harder, harder
... oh, yes ..." Sally groaned then, with her face contorted in
lascivious lust and passion, cried out, "I'm cumming, Harvey. 
Ah!  Ahhh ... aieeeee.  I'm cumming.  Fuck harder!" She made one
maddened thrust upward and then fell
  back on the sand, her body spasming uncontrollably, her legs
pounding the ground.  A moment later, Harvey rammed forward and
groaned out his own release, and the couple lay still; the only
sound was their hoarse exhausted breathing and the slap-slap-slap
of water as the little silver river waves rolled peacefully up on
the sandbar.

Sue was only vaguely aware of Dick leading her away into the
darkness.  Well, now she'd seen it.  She knew the word for it;
Sally had been 'fucked', and Sally had used the word 'cum' as her
body went insane with lust ... just as Marylou had screamed out
she was 'cumming.' And Sally had enjoyed it, had obviously been
deliriously happy during it ... and so had Marylou.

The sight had almost maddened her with a strange unwanted desire.
 She could feel the hot dampness now of her own awakening loins.
Dick was pulling her firmly away from the bank toward the darker
shadows by the bluff.  Once, when she opened her mouth to say
something, he held up his hand and silenced her.  After they had
gone about fifty yards, he stopped and pulled her body around
toward him.  They kissed.  Sue wasn't attempting to tease him;
she had a fire in her loins that cried out for extinguishment. 
She didn't know how to put out the fire or how it could be put
out; that would be Dick's job.  All she knew was that she was
instinctively grinding her pelvis against that forbidden area
where his trousers bulged.  Instinct told her that when these two
junctions were finally joined, the fire would blaze up in an
all-devouring conflagration, explode, and then slowly die like a
beautiful sunset.

Standing on tip-toe, abdomen wantonly pressed against him.  Sue
suddenly felt Dick's sure hands sweep up under the short skirt
and cup her thin panty-covered buttocks in his palms.  A second
later, his thumbs hooked over the elastic waistband and with one
delicious motion, her panties, were pulled down over her hips. 
Dick fumbled with his zipper and then the long hard rod which had
been held captive for so long was released.  It pressed hotly
against her naked belly, throbbing hungrily with each beat of his
heart.  Standing pelvis to pelvis, she felt his knees spread
outward a bit to lower himself.  Then the fevered cock was
between her thighs.

"Dick," she moaned.  "Please ... no.  We can't." That was what
her lips said, but her body was screaming, 'Oh, yes ... now,
right now, my darling.  What difference does a day or two make
now." And so, without conscious volition, she flexed and unflexed
her thigh muscles against his throbbing penis knowing by his moan
of pleasure that she was instinctively doing the right thing.

Dick sawed his cock between her thighs; she could feel the
hardness of it moving back and forth inside its sheath of hot
thin skin.

His finger had begun to seek out the now moistened entrance to
her womb and after a second he found it.  He turned his hand palm
up to cup the whole of her naked crotch in his hand and, at the
same time, force her thighs apart.  She hated to lose that
wonderful contact between her upper legs and his penis, but she
permitted him to spread her anyway.  His fingers were moving like
those of a sensuous harp player across her vaginal lips.  She
wanted to cry out in delight.  Never before had she ever felt
anything so soul consuming.  Her neck arched and she moved her
face from side to side, her lips contorted and panting out over
and over again, "No ... no ... no," and obviously -- from her
wanton actions -- meaning, "Yes ... yes ... yes."

Dick was grinding his teeth and grunting softly as he moved his
penis up and down the length of her thighs.  She could feel some
moisture there; she wondered if he had 'cum'.  He still was hard,
still was moving ... so obviously, she thought, he hadn't reached
his climax.  There was a moisture -- a hot, slippery moisture --
in her own vaginal split; the artesian springs of passion coming
to life under his quivering rod.

"Sue ... please!  I want you.  Let me." He continued to buffet
her thighs with his prick.

I can't let you, she thought, incapable of speaking through her
own longing.  I can't stop you ... I won't stop you if you really
try.  His huge rod now had slipped up to the top of her thighs
and its head pressed and quivered against her hungrily throbbing
cunt lips.  She cried silently, "Oh, how I want you to make love
to me.  Do it now!"; nothing escaped her lips though except wild
hoarse pantings of desire.  For the first time in her life she
felt as if something good was about to happen to her down there
between her legs.  Her heart rejoiced.  There was no fear this
time, as there had been in the past.  No sudden withdrawal of her
senses.  If anything, her senses stayed right there and
intensified.  It was beautiful.  It was wonderful.  She wanted to
cry out to him, "Take me ... take me now, darling." When her
fiancee began pushing her gently down toward the sand, she went
willingly.  Panting, she lay on her back, legs slightly spread,
looking up unseeing at the starry s
 ky and watching as Dick unfastened his trousers and dropped
them.  Then he was kneeling between her thighs, the heat of his
bare hips and buttocks against her abdomen and legs.

"Be gentle," she moaned, as she felt the huge head of his prick
pressing at the lips of her unprotected vagina.  She lay there,
the heat of the moment on her -- wanting it beyond all other
things, and ecstatically happy that the fright had finally left
her.

Dick's tongue sought possession of her mouth, his weight
descended upon her lower belly, and the first gentle probe of his
cock slid lengthwise across her vaginal lips.  She gave herself
to the sensation; she could feel all reason leaving her body --
replaced only by pure feeling.  Dick lifted his buttocks back a
bit in preparation for this first entry.  The throbbing head of
it touched her vaginal lips, pushed forward and separated the
soft yielding pubic hair, and paused there beating, beating,
beating.  Now he withdrew the head, now he replaced it and this
time pressed just a trifle deeper.  Oh, God, she thought; it is
so beautiful.  She could feel her vaginal lubricant oozing around
the head of his cock.  Now she wanted it deeper.  Instinctively,
she had reached down there to caress his balls when -- with a
terrifying suddenness -- the breathless moment was shattered by
the loud shrill tweet of a police whistle blown only a few yards
away.  And the sound of it caused Sue'
 s nerves to suddenly scream and react as though a stick of
dynamite had exploded beneath her.  Simultaneous with the
whistle, which was the signal from the wagon driver that the
evening was at an end, there was the sound of a giggle right
above them, together with a muttered, "Ooops!  Beg pardon." Sally
and Harvey were laughing as they backed away after stumbling over
them in the darkness.  "Didn't mean to break in," Harvey's voice
said, followed by Sally's hissed "Shut up, Harvey."

Sue put her hands against Dick's chest and pushed him away. 
Frantically, she tugged at her skirt, attempting to pull it down
and cover her naked loins.  The beautiful moment had fled, and
the way her nerves were screaming it was probable that it would
not return for a long time ... if ever.  It was as though she
were a child undergoing psychological conditioning: Reach out for
a pretty vase and receive a powerful electrical shock upon
contact.  Or an alcoholic reaching for a drink in an institution
-- a type of don't touch conditioning ... brainwashing.

Her nerve endings were all jangling like a hundred alarm systems
being shorted out at once.  She wanted to scream.  Just as
devastating was the embarrassment and humiliation that she felt.
God, how cheap and vulgar she must have looked there with her
legs spread out like a wanton whore.  She covered her eyes and
began sobbing quietly.

Dick, though, was not about to give up that easily.  When he
sought to pull her skirt up again, she jackknifed her knees
beneath him and twisted on her side.  "Don't," she commanded, and
it was an order not to be disobeyed.  "I'm so embarrassed."

"God, we can't stop now," he groaned.  "It doesn't matter if they
saw us."

"It matters to me," and the sobs began coming more rapidly.

Dick angrily rolled over.  "Oh, shit!" he said very loudly, and
got to his feet, pulling up his trousers.

"I'm sorry," she weeped.  "I can't help it."

"Come on," he said, and it was almost a snarl of contempt, "Get
up."

Trembling, Sue stood and then feeling even more embarrassment,
reached down and attempted to raise her panties; she heard them
rip as her heel caught the elastic.  Dick had his back to her. 
Why, oh why! did everything go wrong all of a sudden.  She had
wanted him to make love to her -- she needed to be made love to.
He had even begun to make some penetration.  And then that ...
that "damned" police whistle, together with Harvey's crude
laughter and Sally's knowing eyes.  Contritely, she completed her
dressing, and then said quietly, "Dick."

He refused to answer.

She sniffed.  "Dick ... I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, you acted like it," he mumbled.

"Well ... I am."

"Okay," he said, his voice cold and distant, and not giving an
inch.  "You're sorry.  I'm sorry.  That doesn't make any
difference to the condition I'm in right now -- the same
god-damned condition I've been in ever since I met you.  Don't be
surprised if you hear tomorrow morning that I was arrested for
raping someone on the street."

Sue flared, "It's just as bad for me."

"I doubt it."

"What do you mean by that?" she commanded.  "Forget it."

"No, I won't forget it.  What did you mean?"

He turned finally and looked down at her.  After a long moment,
his shoulders slumped, and he sighed in exasperation.  "You can
turn it off.  It's easy.  Look at me, though.  Just look!" He
cupped his bulging trousers in one hand and clenched his fist
tight around it.  "What am I supposed to do with this?  Christ! 
It hurts a man when he gets all set to make love and then nothing
happens."

Sue's retort was cut off by the sound of the police whistle
again.  Someone shouted their names, "Hey Dick ... Sue!  Come on.
 Time to go!"

"Come on," Dick said, roughly grabbing her arm and leading the
way toward the wagon.  Sue followed him docilely; she was
thinking of what he said -- about it hurting a man when nothing
happens and he's ready.  Marylou apparently knew the solution to
that problem this afternoon with Petey.  And at that moment, Sue
decided she would "relieve" Dick this way, if it would help him.
He would have to make the first move, though; she couldn't bring
herself to be that bold.

The ride back on the hay wagon was silent, and the atmosphere
painfully strained between the two of them.  He made no effort to
kiss or hold her.  When they got back to the ranch yard, he had
assisted her down from the wagon and then opened the door to the
right side of the car -- an obvious invitation to sit on her own
side of the car.  Not one single word was spoken during the short
journey home.  When he pulled into the doorway, he kept the motor
running while he escorted her to the door.

Sue's emotions were churning; she was torn between embarrassment,
shame, and anger.

"Good night," he said, simply nodding his head, and again making
no effort to kiss her.

All right, if that's the way you want to play it, to heck with
you, Mister, Sue thought.  She forced herself to smile, though,
and said, "Good night, Dick." She put her key into the lock,
entered without looking at him, and closed the door behind her. 
She stood there, heart pounding, with her back pressed tightly
against the door, until she heard the roar of his engine and the
screech of his tires as he angrily departed.

"Sue, darling, is that you?" Mrs. Ogden's voice came from the
living room.

She sighed, that was all she needed to make the evening a
complete -- an inquisition.  "It's me, Mother."

"Come in here, please."

Sue had no inclination to talk to anyone at the moment; all she
wanted to do was go upstairs, take a hot shower, and go to bed
with her own thoughts.

"Sue?  Are you all right?" Her mother's voice was insistent.

"Yes, Mother." Sue took off her sweater and put it on the hallway
bench.  She glanced at her hair to make sure it was clean of hay
and not too mussed, and checked her clothing for signs of
disarray.  Then she went into the living room where the older
woman stood before the fireplace.

Mrs. Ogden's eyes flickered over her daughter as if she were
evaluating a stranger's honesty or trustworthiness.  After a
moment, she blinked and held a tightly wadded handkerchief up to
her mouth.

Puzzled and alarmed, Sue asked, "Mother?  What's happened? 
What's wrong?"

Mrs. Ogden seemed reluctant to speak.  Then with big tears
looming up in her eyes, she reached out for Sue and said, "Oh,
darling.  I should have told you before, but it was go
embarrassing for me." She sighed deeply, wiped her eyes with a
lace handkerchief, and sniffed.  "I just didn't want to embarrass
you, too.  But I can't avoid it any longer."

"What is it?"

"Sit down, dear." She motioned to the couch, then sat down beside
her daughter.  The older woman's face was flushing as she sought
to put words to an obviously distasteful task.  "I've never
spoken to you about ... about your marriage duties and marriage
night.  I must do so before you find out for yourself.  This is
something a mother must pass on to her daughter.  It isn't
something you will find in those horribly nasty dirty marriage
manuals with their filthy pictures and diagrams ... or those
Communistic sex education classes they tried to put on in the
high school.  I'm so relieved that my woman's club was
instrumental in getting rid of all that smut.  After all, this is
something that should be taught and discussed in the home."

She was appalled.  This was the last thing she ever expected to
hear from her usually reserved mother.  The older woman was
undergoing almost a Jekyll-Hyde transformation as she warmed to
her subject.  Earlier embarrassment had evaporated -- being
replaced by something akin to hatred and anger.

Mother said, "I think you know that men and women have different
reproductive organs."

Sue was amused in spite of herself, but she realized she must
bite back her smile.  She wondered what mother would say if
daughter was to tell her that the first time she had ever seen --
in living colour and stereophonic sound -- a full-grown male's
erect "reproductive organ" had been that afternoon on the couch
... that Mother was sitting on the exact spot where Marylou's
"reproductive organ" had damped the leather some 12 hours earlier
... that Sue's own "reproductive organ" had been rubbed by Dick's
"reproductive organ" only an hour before.

Mother continued her lecture.  "May I suggest that you use your
... ah ... reproductive organ as just that.  Get pregnant right
away, as soon as you can, then you won't be bothered by Dick. 
Sex, after all, is enjoyable only to men; it is something we
women must bear with fortitude -- no matter how distasteful."

Sue swallowed, confused.  "But, Mother " she protested, "Sex is
supposed to be beautiful between a husband and wife."

The older woman closed her eyes and shook her head.  "Sex is only
beautiful in that it leads to procreation.  Remember the Bible:
it says, 'Woman submit to your husband.' That word 'submit' means
just that.  Sex is a cross we women have to bear.  Nothing is
fair or equal about it.  For example, on your wedding night, you
will give your virginity to Dick.  He will take it joyously.  And
what does that gift cause you?  Not joy!  Pain!  Your hymen will
be brutally ripped, the pain will be excruciating ... and then
you will begin to hemorrhage.  I have even heard stories of women
bleeding to death on their marriage bed.  Once -- you remember?
-- I broke my leg and the bone popped out of my skin?"

She nodded, remembering the afternoon when she was only five
years old; she'd had nightmares for weeks after seeing the blood,
the white bone, and hearing the sounds of her mother's screams.

"You remember how I finally passed out from the agony, and when
they tried to move me I came to again, and how they had to give
me morphine to ease the pain?"

Wide-eyed and wondering, Sue said quietly, "Go on."

"Well, the pain that afternoon was nothing compared to the agony
I suffered when your father took my virginity ... even though he
tried to be gentle.  That, of course, was before he became an
insensitive alcoholic brute." The older woman's eyes narrowed in
recollection.  "It was always painful.  It hurt every time he
insisted on my performing what he called 'marital obligations."
She held up her hand as Sue opened her mouth to speak.  "Wait,
don't interrupt.  My mother suffered the same way, and her
mother, and her mother's mother before her.  Your poor Aunt
Margaret!  It is a fact of life you must learn to accept, and
that is why I say to you, 'get pregnant as soon as you can'."

Sue was slow putting her thoughts into words, but finally her
feelings came tumbling out.  "But  ... but don't most women enjoy
making love with their husbands?"

"Whores!  And don't disgrace that beautiful word 'love' by using
it in that filthy context.  'Making love', indeed!  'Making war'
would be more like it, for the woman is always defeated,
degraded, and brutally subjected to all types of indignities. 
Can you image ... (No, of course you can't, and pray God that
you'll never have to!) ... what it is like to have some foul
breathed, wine-swilling, cigar stinking beast crawl like a spider
over your naked body?" She shuddered from the thought of it; and
Sue -- watching her mother's genuine horror -- couldn't help
thinking about what had been said.

Sue was fairly sure that her mother was telling the truth -- at
least the truth as the older woman saw it.  Perhaps there was an
inherited physiological trait that had been passed on through the
female genes in her mother's family.  She had read and heard
about such things.  Perhaps it was painful!  Maybe there was some
almost insignificant anatomical or neurological difference in the
female line of her family.  And, abruptly, as the horrifying
thought came to her, Sue clutched the arm of the couch: Could the
trait have been passed on to her?  Would she know agony ...
instead of passionate enjoyment?  Would she have known
excruciating pain if Dick had continued his penetration?

Her mind was a maelstrom of confusion and fear.  There were so
many questions she wanted to ask now ... and no one to answer
them.  Sue wanted to ask if Mother had ever enjoyed a male's
caresses and fondling, but such a question was embarrassing and
at that moment almost senseless.

Then, almost as if reading her mind, her mother said, "I think
almost all women enjoy 'sparking' with a man -- the touch of his
hand upon your arm," and the older woman blushed, "or a gentle
kiss.  The body responds, of course.  But the act of sexual
intercourse itself is degrading." A moment later she began
speaking more rapidly -- almost irrationally.  "Remember what
Saint Augustine wrote, 'Nothing is so much to be shunned as sex
relations.' And remember what I said.  Sexual intercourse should
be used only for procreating the race.  Birth is painful --
horribly so -- but the act of conception, of mindless copulation,
is equally painful.  Get pregnant, my darling, as soon as you
can."

There was more of the same, but Sue's mind could not absorb any
more.  Sue knew her mother was wrong -- terribly wrong.  That
statement about only "whores enjoying sex" was almost pathetic. 
Marylou certainly was no whore -- nor was Sally.  Then there was
Cynthia and Donna, both of whom had been friends of Sue's for
almost all of her 22 years; both had married earlier this summer.
 They certainly weren't "whores", but they had made some ecstatic
reports about what their husbands did to them in bed.

Long after she had gone upstairs, Sue lay awake -- unable to
sleep.  She gradually became more and more certain that her
mother was telling the truth as she saw it.  It was painful to
Mother; it probably was agonizing ... to Mother, to Mother's
mother, and Aunt Margaret.  If it was true, and Sue had
absolutely no reason to doubt it, then most probably the same
thing was inherently wrong with her.  It would be as agonizing
for her as her ancestors once Dick made full penetration.

It was a family curse, her confused mind decided; a curse handed
down from one female to another on her mother's side.

Down there -- deep within her womb -- she felt her vaginal
muscles tighten.  It was a though a lock had been put in place
... a lock without a key ... a lock that would keep spring and
summer out forevermore.




                          Chapter 2


Dick knew he was acting like an immature teenager when he "burned
rubber" pulling away from Sue's house.  He had popped the clutch
without thinking, his mind too full of anger and unhappiness to
care about noise or wear and tear on the new car.  His anger was
directed against not only Sue, but himself as well.

He realized Sue wanted to keep her virginity intact until the
wedding; that, at least was understandable.  It was all right
with him, too, as long as he could occasionally score with a
college girl from out of town or one of the occasional hungry,
but discreet older married women he met while working as sales
manager in his father's imported automobile showrooms.  The
really big problem was that Sue kept displaying these frustrating
moments of willingness to go all the way ... until she began
getting up tight.  She wasn't a do prick teaser", it seemed more
like she was really seared.

He rubbed his cock through the material of his trousers.  His
balls were hurting again -- the usual occurrence after a date
with Sue.  "Jeez, we came so close tonight, and she was almost
letting me," he said aloud, and then added, "that god-damned
police whistle scared hell out of me, too.  And Harvey making
with the wise cracks ... that's all we needed ..." Sue had
tightened up like quick concrete the second she heard the
whistle; it was almost as if she had suffered instant rigor
mortis.  Then something had seemed to have collapsed inside her
when she realized there were witnesses.  That had been Harvey's
idea of a practical joke -- butting in just at that moment.

Dick stopped his car at a traffic signal; when the light turned
green, he raced another car away from the light, burning rubber
for almost half a block.  A black and white police car coming in
the opposite direction blinked its headlights in warning at him,
and Dick immediately slowed down.  He watched in his rear view
mirror, but the police car continued its patrol and did not turn
around in pursuit.

When he turned off the Boulevard onto Main, he was surprised to
see Harvey Johnson's sports car on the side of the road; its
parking lights were blinking, and a cursing Harvey had his head
under the hood.

"What's wrong, pal?" Dick asked as he pulled alongside and
stopped.

Harvey looked up.  "Oh, this son of a bitching oil line blew on
me again.  Third time this week.  Christ, for two bits I'd drive
the god- damned thing over the railing on the trestle and dance a
jig all the time it was sinking into sixty feet of water."

"You know where to come for a good new one."

Harvey stuck out his tongue and made an obscene noise.

Dick laughed.  "Anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you've got three feet of quarter inch copper tubing?"

"'Fraid not.  Can I call a garage for you?"

"Naw.  The cops came by a few minutes ago and radioed for the
auto club; but the tow truck is out on the highway with a wreck
right now.  They can't be here for another half hour or so."

"Okay ... see you later then," Dick said, and put the car in
gear.

"Hey, wait!" Harvey came over to the side of the car, a troubled
look on his face.  "Say ... ah ... you could do me a favour."

"Sure, anything."

Harvey nodded toward the front seat of his car.  "Can you give
her a lift home?  Her old man's going to be raising all sorts of
hell even now; another thirty minutes, he'll probably be waiting
on the front porch with a shotgun."

For the first time, Dick saw Sally Miller peering at him from the
dimness of the front seat.  "Hi there," she said, brightly.

"Hello, Sally." Dick shrugged as he turned back to Harvey. 
"Would you rather I stay with your car, and you take her home in
mine?"

"Naw.  I'm the only one who can sign the auto club slip. 
Besides, with an Honest John citizen like you bringing her home,
her old man will have to believe that I actually did have car
trouble this time."

"Right." Dick leaned across the seat and unlocked the door. 
"Come on Sally ... got your bus transfer?"

Sally slid out of the driver's side of Harvey's car, and her
little mini-miniskirt crept up almost to her waist.  From the
position of her legs, it was difficult to tell if she were
wearing panties or not.  Harvey paid no particular attention to
her or her legs.  "I'll call you tomorrow," he said, patting her
shoulder, and then looking over at Dick, "Thanks."

"No sweat," Dick answered.  "Want me to come back after I've
dropped her off ?"

"Harvey shook his head.  "Not necessary.  I'll manage." A moment
later, he was lost to sight as Dick turned the corner.

Dick was all too aware of Sally's body next to him, even though
she sat next to the opposite door.  She'd made no effort to pull
down her skirt when she got into the car.  Her well-shaped thighs
were really something to look at, he thought, and the proud
upthrusting of her breasts beneath her sweater gave ample
evidence that she had not bothered to put her bra back on after
the beach episode ... if, indeed, she had ever worn one at all. 
He'd be willing to bet that she wasn't wearing panties, either. 
These thoughts and remembrance of the beach scene brought
stirring life to Dick's penis again.  The vision of Sally being
soundly fucked by Harvey came back all too vividly.  He knew he
was tensing up, knew his prick was beginning to swell painfully
again ... knew also that Sally was aware of his tenseness.  God,
that's all he needed now -- another hard on!  And with Sally, one
of Sue's best friends.

It was she who spoke first, saying "Look ... I'm sorry we ...
Harvey and I ... ah ... interrupted -- intruded, tonight."

He shrugged.  "It's okay.  You really didn't see anything anyway,
because nothing happened."

"I really didn't think so."

"What do you mean?"

Now she shrugged, and gave a knowing little smile.  "You're too
up tight.  You'd be more relaxed ... if something had happened."

"Is it that obvious?" Dick asked, mildly astonished at the girl's
boldness.

Sally grinned.  "You might say that it's obvious as hell."
Without a warning, she reached over and touched the bulge in his
trousers.  "Like so." The contact created the same result in his
loins as a match struck in a gasoline-vapoured chamber.  She left
her hand, not teasing him, not caressing ... merely resting her
fingers on the throbbing cloth lump created by his desire. 
Sally's eyes were locked on his face; the intensity of her glance
was something he could feel.  She seemed to be asking silent
questions -- and receiving silent answers.  Dick was aware that
he was driving very slowly now -- the vehicle was barely moving,
as a matter of fact.  His breath caught with the next comment
from the girl, "If we hadn't intruded, you wouldn't be uptight. 
Would you?"

Dick had to force the words out of his suddenly dry throat.  "I
guess not." He kept his eyes on the road.

"Then ... I'm responsible in a way." She looked over her shoulder
out the rear view window, then glanced ahead of them.  "Keep
driving," she ordered.  She had some plan, obviously; her actions
were unmistakable.

Through a haze of uncertainty and growing heat, Dick felt her
hand leave his leg and begin fumbling with his belt.  "Take a
deep breath," Sally said.  He did as instructed, and she quickly
unfastened his waist band.  A second later his zipper scraped,
and her knowledgeable hand and fingers released his hot throbbing
cock from the imprisoning confines of his shorts.  He groaned
deep in his throat as she stroked it a couple of times.  "My ...
it's beautiful," she said, breathlessly.  "So big!  So hard!" She
lovingly pumped it for a few seconds, then rolled it like a thick
cigar between her fingers.  The reflected light from the
dashboard instruments showed her hand moving up and down on his
long white prick.  God, how he had wanted a girl to do that!  It
was almost more than he could stand.  Already, even though only
thirty or forty seconds had elapsed, he could feel the gathering
thunderheads in his balls.  The girl was an expert; she knew
exactly what to do and how to do it.
  He groaned, and his breath began coming faster.

He was so caught up in the delicious sensation that Sally had to
make the request twice.

"What?" he muttered, not really sure he comprehended.

"Move the seat back further," she repeated.

Dick mentally knew what was coming next.  Eagerly, he reached
down on his left for the seat release and pushed with his back. 
The seat slid all the way back.  He was forced to drive with his
arms almost straight out in front of him.

Sally glanced out the rear view window again -- looked ahead at
the vacant street -- and ordered, "Just keep driving.  Tell me if
you see any cars coming from behind.  Call this my wedding
present to you." She bent forward and her hot lips slipped wetly
down over the head of his bulging cock.

"Ahhhhhh," it was a moan of delight wrenched from his soul. 
Nothing had ever felt so beautiful before, or at least nothing
recently.  Her tongue flickered at the urethral opening and then
ran maddening circles around the head.  She had pooched out her
lips so that her mouth felt like a soft hot clamping vaginal
ring, wonderfully moistened.  With her free hand, she reached
down into his snorts and began gently squeezing his testicles in
rhythm to her sucking movements.  Up and down her mouth moved,
gently bobbing like an oil pump pulling precious liquid from the
subterranean depths.  Dick was about to go out of his mind from
the sensation.  The girl had said to keep driving, but it was
almost impossible to do that because of what he felt.  He
couldn't have been travelling more than three or four miles an
hour when the girl, as if sensing his impending orgasm, began
taking the cock deep into her throat.  Faster, faster, faster her
head moved until Dick could stand it no longer
 .  He arched his back and raised his buttocks off the seat in an
effort to jam it further down her throat.  She took it all, and
as the head of his prick began swelling to enormous size, Sue
started sucking voraciously, interspersing the vacuum with
occasional little nibbles using her teeth against the trunk and
head.  The dash lights showed her lips being pulled out
grotesquely as they clung to his white driving rod.  He continued
to push up to meet her, and she continued to take him.  His mouth
was swollen shut and long hoarse pants of breath whistled through
it.  His prick felt as though it weighed a ton -- a ton of hot
molten lava restlessly surging below the surface of a volcano. 
He knew he was on the verge of cumming and felt he should prepare
her but as her motions became more rapid and the suction
increased, he suddenly knew it didn't matter.  She obviously had
done this before; she was an expert.  The lava gathered, seethed
and boiled.  The eruption was imminent.
 Low guttural noises of delight came rumbling out of his thro!
 at.  He
was cumming ... cumming ... almost there.  Almost.  Now ... Now!
Now!  The first hot spurts of sperm boiled out of his balls and
screamed along the duct leading to the head of his cock.  "Ahhhh
... hahhhh." His cry was meant to give her some warning, but the
sound merely increased her frenzy.  The hot cum roared out of his
cock in great, smooth gushing quantities and she went on sucking
furiously as he shot everything he had into her wonderfully warm,
greedy mouth.  And still he came, as weeks of pent up frustration
and abstinence manifested themselves in almost half a cup of the
viscous elixir of love.

She used her tongue to tease, her mouth and lips to suck, until
his penis became less osseous and began to deflate.  It was as
though she felt it necessary to suck every last drop of lust from
him.  She continued to work until he was sure he was getting
ready for another erection, then she suddenly stopped.

Dick gave a mumbled sigh of happy release, and abruptly became
aware that his car -- lights on, motor running -- was standing
motionless right in the middle of the street.  Sally withdrew her
dripping lips from his cock, then kissed its head which was
inflamed from her nibbling and smeared with her lipstick.  She
slithered up until she was enclosed in his arms.  Then she kissed
him wetly; her tongue darted and licked around his mouth.  He
could taste the alien taste -- the taste of his own sperm in her
mouth.  Sally's face was slippery -- glistening from his seminal
juices and streaked with her lipstick.  She scooted back over to
her own side of the car, opened her purse, and carefully wiped
her mouth with a kleenex as he began driving again.  He turned
onto the street where she lived as she glanced over toward him,
"Do I look presentable?"

He inspected her face, and nodded.

She smiled as he stopped in front of her house and started to get
out of the car to open the door for her.  "Don't bother," she
said quickly and slid out.  As her skirt flared up, he realized
he had been right; she wasn't wearing panties, after all.  The
crack of her smooth young buttocks was a dark inviting line at
the top of her white thighs.

Dick saw her father part the curtains and stare angrily out into
the night.

"He's seen you," Sally said.  "So now he'll believe the story
about Harvey's car." She grinned impishly at him as she closed
the car door and leaned through the window, "Did you like my
wedding gift?"

"The greatest."

Her laughter came floating through the cool night air and, as she
turned to go up the walkway, she tossed back over her shoulder,
"Make sure Sue sends me a 'thank you' note." She was still
laughing when the door closed behind her excessively wiggling
little ass.

Relaxed and sleepy, and feeling only a minor pang of remorse at
having "betrayed" Sue with one of her best friends, Dick drove
slowly homeward.  He puzzled over the opposite sexual reactions
of the two girls; there was all the difference in the world
between them.  Sue was loving.  She had moments of great warmth
and tenderness that seemed to engulf him like a pleasant
comforter on a cold night.  Yet, she had very obvious sexual
hang-ups.  He knew -- from the way she reacted when he caressed
her -- that she couldn't be frigid ... at least not in the
technical sense.  She seemed almost "frightened".

Sally was a different proposition.  She was "hot"; from the
gossip among the fellows, Dick knew she fucked like a rabbit and
had been doing so since her freshman year in high school.  She
also had other talents in the sexual line, as she had just
demonstrated!  There were a lot of girls in the world like Sally;
he had known a few himself before he became engaged to Sue.  Some
of them already at 14 or 15 -- were "tramps", and that, he knew,
was the kindest word for them.  They pretended sexual excitement,
they screwed, they bellowed, when they reached their pitiful
little climaxes, but there was always something missing.  Sally
really couldn't be called a "tramp".  She considered sex as
merely another adjunct to friendship, and thus she enjoyed a good
fuck.  When she got married, she would be the one who suggested
"husband swapping".

But Sue?  There was an untapped reservoir of passion in her; he
could sense it.  There was more power, more heat in her loins
than in Sally's.  But how to reach it that was another thing
entirely.

As he drove into his own driveway, he thought sleepily: Maybe Sue
will change once she gets the wedding ring.  He was sure she
would, otherwise the marriage would never go.  She wasn't at all
like her mother -- dour and dried up and seemingly hating me.  At
least ... he prayed she wasn't like her mother.

As he got out of his car he felt the dampness of his shorts where
the seminal juices had seeped after Sally had finished her
ministrations.  For a moment, he visualized Sue doing that for
him; such an act would be clear evidence that she had rid herself
of some of the hang-ups.

And, abruptly, he had an erection -- just as big and powerful ...
and painful, as earlier.  The thought of Sue doing that stayed
with him even after he hopped into the shower and until he soaped
his penis -- running his slippery hands up and down its throbbing
trunk.  Then ... feeling as foolish as a 15 year old ... he
soaped until his huge rod spat out its load against the tile
walls of the shower stall.  He watched the cum run down the
tiles, and he thought: That's the last time I'll ever have to do
that again ...




                          Chapter 3


Saturday passed in a whirlwind of activity for Sally.  The
wedding rehearsal was scheduled for four-thirty in the afternoon;
it was to be followed by a dinner for the bridesmaids and ushers.
 She felt awkward when she met Dick at the church that afternoon;
she had planned to apologize to him, to hold him and have him
hold her.  Yet, the second she saw him, an unwanted thought
boiled up in her mind: He is going to hurt me tomorrow night ...
I know it!

Dick, however, surprised her by apologizing for his short
behaviour the night before.  He seemed somehow different today --
more relaxed and at ease.  Abruptly, Sue felt all her doubts
dissipating.  He was to be her husband; he would protect her.  He
would never knowingly hurt her.

And so the rehearsal passed, and Sue was in a glow of happiness
as she sat holding hands with him during the prewedding dinner,
listening to the idle gossip and chatter of the other couples. 
When he kissed her goodnight at the front door, it was almost
midnight.  She responded warmly to him.  "This will be the last
time," Sue said softly, her voice full of love.

"The last time what?"

"The last time you'll have to say 'goodnight' like this." She
knew her face was aflame as she said, boldly, "Tomorrow night you
can whisper it before we go to sleep."

Then she was inside the house.  The spell was broken immediately.
 Aunt Margaret, her mother's sister, was talking loudly in the
front room.  Her strident voice cut through the hallways like a
runaway robot harvester cutting down everything in front of it. 
"I still say Sue should have had a surgeon inject a local
anesthesia and then have the doctor cut her hymen.  And maybe he
could prescribe some sort of suppository she could insert each
time before, which would deaden the pain.  Why should she suffer
needlessly?"

Mrs. Ogden's whining voice came.  "Oh, I tried to talk to her --
to explain the disgusting thing that is going to happen ... but
she just sat there with a look on her face that said, 'Maybe
it'll be different with me, Mother.'  I just don't know what else
to say to her; I don't want my only daughter to be hurt -- to be
degraded by some ... some ..." Her emotions obviously were
getting the better of her.

There was a short pause before Aunt Margaret said, "Did you ever
think ... that Sue might not be a virgin still?"

"Margaret!  What a horrid thing to say!"

"Well?"

"Of course she is.  I'm positive she hasn't cheapened herself
that way."

There was another moment's silence, then Margaret said musingly,
"Yes ... I suppose you're right.  She couldn't hide that from
you.  She would have been in pain for days when it happened.  You
would have known."

She could listen to no more.  Why, oh why! did everyone have to
conspire to ruin the most beautiful moment of her life, she
thought.  Why?  Her Mother and Aunt Margaret quibbling over her
virginity -- discussing it as though Sue were some animal to be
trained or doctored.  Wasn't this something between her and Dick?
 Was it anyone's business but hers?  She fought the impulse to
run in and shout at them, fought another impulse to run up the
stairs.  Instead, she forced herself to tip-toe quietly up to her
bedroom.  There, hanging on the closet door like some ghostly
figure mocking her, was her bridal gown and veil.  Sue reached
out one trembling hand to the nylon mesh.  She shuddered at the
feel of it.  Maybe, she thought in sudden dismay, I should call
the whole thing off while there's still time.  But she knew that
it was already too late.

When she heard Aunt Margaret and her mother's querulous voice in
the hall forty minutes later, she pretended as if she were
asleep.  Her door opened and the two women whispered in the
darkness.  Her mother said, "She must have come in while we were
in the kitchen and not wanted to bother us."

Sue felt someone standing next to the bed.  Then Aunt Margaret's
soft voice said, "Look at her ... the poor child.  Sleeping so
innocently.  For the last time."

Her mother's sniffle was the only answer.

That night was spent with Sue's body as rigid as a railroad tie.
She tried to sleep, but it was an impossible task.  When she
glanced at the luminous hand of her watch, it was three o'clock,
and she thought: Only twelve hours more.

When dawn finally came, Sue was slumped dejectedly in a chair in
front of the window, and was thinking that she still had nine
hours in which to extricate herself from the trap of marriage. 
Sounds began in the kitchen a short time later as her mother and
Aunt Margaret began the day's activities.

Breakfast -- unwanted and tasteless -- followed a shower, then
Mary Corona arrived to do Sue's hair.  Sue woodenly answered
everyone's questions and made light conversation with the
hairdresser.  And during it all, she was thinking: Still three
hours to call it off.

Then, with a flourish, Mrs. Martini arrived to assist with the
wedding gown; she was followed moments later by the first two
bridesmaids.

And, abruptly, all of the sands had run out.  It was time!  Sue
had absolutely no cognizance of being taken to the church; in
many respects it was like a condemned man spending his last hours
before taking that long last walk.

She heard organ music.  She was walking -- because someone had
told her to begin walking and had nudged her.  She saw a sea of
smiling faces.  She saw Dick's face, strained and smiling at her
from the altar.  She saw the bridesmaids in front of her scatter
out like brilliantly colored petals of flowers unfolding.

A face: the minister?  "Do you accept this man ..."

Her nod and voice from a million miles off, "I do ..."

"Do you accept this woman ..."

And Dick's voice -- hoarse -- answering ...

"I now pronounce you ..." The strident roar of the organ, the
brilliant blindness of the sunlight outside the chapel ... the
flash of the photographer's camera.  The sting of thrown rice ...
the shouted congratulations and, from a couple of the junior high
school kids who had been invited, "You'll be sorr-eeee." The
reception line -- a never- ending line of faces and kisses and
mouths uttering words she couldn't comprehend.  The cutting of
the cake.  Everything all blur.  Then Mrs. Martini again --
removing her gown -- helping her dress in a new tweed suit for
travelling.  A corsage being pinned to her coat.

Then Dick again ... meeting her in the hallway of the second
floor outside her bedrooms ... holding her.  A shout as the
reception guests saw them.  A mad dash down the front stairs to
Dick's car all painted with signs.  The car door slamming. 
People shouting gleefully.  The sound of Dick's car starting, the
screech of his tires as he attempted to elude the jokers who
wanted to follow with horns blaring.

And the last -- the very last -- view of her house.  Mother, and
Aunt Margaret ... like two dark accusing angels of doom, standing
there silently -- not waving ... merely watching as the car drove
off ... an expression of grief on her mother's face ...

She began weeping.

Dick patted her hand.  "Okay?" he asked solicitously.

"Yes," she lied, through a muffled handkerchief, "I'm just
happy."

"This time tomorrow, we'll be in Ireland.  And tomorrow night
we'll be at the castle."

So full of dread was Sue at the thought of this first night
stretching in front of her that she didn't respond to his
excitement.

"Just think of it," he continued eagerly.  "Two weeks of doing
nothing but lying in the sun and swimming all day and making
loving all night."

"Yes, darling.  It will be lots of fun," she said, not believing
her own statement.  The fright was beginning to boil up in her
again.

Sue became more tense -- more silent -- with each passing mile as
they drew closer to the international airport hotel where they
would stay tonight prior to boarding the plane early tomorrow
morning.  She tried to purge her mother's voice from her mind,
but it came creeping back like a freezing bone--numbing fog. 
"Dear God," she prayed silently, "don't let me be like mother and
Aunt Margaret.  Don't make it repulsive or painful ..." The
dread, however, continued to raise in her.  She was close to
tears when they checked into the motel.  The manager almost
seemed to smirk at her when he led the way to their suite. 
Inside, there was a bottle of champagne on ice -- courtesy of the
owner -- and inscribed, "To the honeymooners".

Almost frantic now with fear and nervousness, Sue pressed the
manager to stay for a "toast." She didn't want to be left alone
with Dick.

The manager merely smiled and said, "Oh, no!  The champagne is
just for the two of you lovebirds.  Congratulations to you both.
Have a goodnight."

The door clicked behind him, and the nightmare began.  Dick tried
to take her in his arms, but She reflexively put both hands
against his chest and pushed back.  "What's wrong?" he asked
genuinely perplexed.

"Nothing," she lied.  "Just a splitting headache ... I'll take an
aspirin and be all right in a little while.  Maybe you should
take a shower?"

He looked concerned.  "Is there anything I can do?"

"No.  It'll go away.  Take a shower."

Dick grinned in mistaken understanding.  "Ah ... I bet I know. 
You want to get rid of me while you change your clothes ... and
get into something more ... ah ... comfortable." He wriggled his
eyebrows.

Sue anxiously seized the remark.  "Yes!  yes, darling!"

"All right.  One shower coming up." Dick laughed and took off his
coat.  He opened the suitcase and brought out a new pair of blue
silk pajamas.  He held them up for her inspection.  "Pretty sexy,
eh?  Just wait until you see them on me." He kissed her
passionately, then disappeared into the bathroom.  A moment
later, she heard the water being run and his voice raised in
song.

Quickly, she removed her clothes and slipped into the white
peignoir purchased for the honeymoon.  She caught a glimpse of
herself in the mirror, and she blushed in shame.  When she had
tried the negligee on in the store she had been wearing panties
under it.  Now, however, it clearly showed the small dark
triangle of her pubic hair and the brown nipples of her breasts.
She opened the bed, climbed in, and pulled the covers up around
her throat.  Two minutes later Dick, somewhat flustered, came out
of the bathroom.  The reason for his chagrin was plainly evident;
the front of his p.j. bottom bulged out as though he had a huge
banana protruding from between his legs.

"It must be something they put in the soap," he said, making a
feeble joke.

Sue did not laugh; she cringed deeper into the bed.  Although she
had felt his penis through his trousers before and although he
had touched her with it before, never -- not in her wildest
imaginations -- had she conceived it was as big as it seemed to
be.  Through the pajamas it appeared to be at least twice as
large as Petey's had been.

Now she knew what her mother had been trying to say; no woman's
body could safely take that huge bulging staff.  It would split
her apart like a Parker House roll.  She whimpered when Dick came
alongside the bed.  That ... that thing was only inches away from
her head as he turned out the light.  Then she felt the covers
being pulled back and Dick's body and his huge male organ of
destruction pressing against her side.  Without preliminaries, he
kissed her -- possessively at first and then with rapidly
increasing passion.  She responded only perfunctorily when he
tried to shove his tongue down her throat.

Dick drew back from her.  He leaned over on one elbow, "What's
wrong, darling?" he asked.

"Nothing," the word was said so softly it was almost inaudible as
she lay there transfixed with fright.

"Are you nervous?"

She leapt at the remark as though it were a life ring.  Perhaps
if she admitted to it, he would leave her alone tonight.  So she
said, "Yes ... terribly nervous."

Dick laughed.  "Well, then.  We'll just have to take care of that
nervousness.  I've got just the thing to remove nervous strain. 
Leave everything to me." He kissed her neck and his hot wet
tongue traced a design down to the top of her gown.  She felt his
hands pull down the straps of her gown, then he began caressing
her bare breasts.  She felt nothing except the fearing pounding
within her heart.  He bent forward and glued his lips to the left
breast, and his teeth playfully bit and teased the nipple.  Soon
his hands moved like conquerors across her taut belly and sought
the hem of her gown.  He pulled it up so her loins were naked and
open to him.  Slowly, using his middle finger, he began moving it
between her thighs and up and down across the length of her
vaginal lips.  There was none of the excitement she had felt the
night at the beach ... none of the beauty and none of the fire. 
Only numbness -- a deadening absence of sensation.  Sue quivered
in fright, and Dick to
 ok the motion to mean that she was shivering in excitement. 
"Like that," he asked, not waiting for an answer.  He tweaked her
clitoris.  She felt nothing, could feel nothing.  It was as
though her body now was elsewhere.  Her husband was fondling a
wax statue.

Then Dick suddenly rose up in bed.  She felt him struggling with
his pajamas.  He removed his top ... then kicked the bottoms out
of bed where they lay in a heap on the floor.  When he stretched
out full- length beside her, she could feel the hair on his chest
against her bare shoulder, his hairy legs against her smooth
ones, and ... and that thing! which seemed hotter and larger than
ever.

She was absolutely cold with terror when Dick gently spread her
legs apart.  Then he swung his legs over her thigh and put his
knee between her legs.  A moment later he was hovering over her
and kneeling between her legs.  Sue lay there, close to panic,
trembling with a fear that Dick mistakenly accepted as desire.

She felt him fumbling for a moment, then the head of his hardened
penis was pressing against the still dry lips of her vagina. 
When he touched her with it, it was as if someone had stuck a
soldering iron against her bare unprotected skin.

"Don't hurt me, Dick ... please.  Oh, God ... don't hurt me," she
whimpered, trying to press herself into the mattress.

Dick was breathing heavily and he did not answer.  He still
reacted in a gentle fashion, however.  He slowly pushed forward,
spreading the sparse young pubic hair and the head of his cock
slipped into the virginal portals of her vagina.  She winced,
"You're hurting me."

He moved the head of his prick in and out between the red full
lips of her vagina; he did not seek to penetrate, merely to
lubricate it.  In spite of all her fear, Sue could feel a
moistness beginning down there as her body responded
automatically.  Perhaps, she thought, it will be all right, after
all.

Then, he began to really hurt her when he attempted to push it in
even further between her thighs.  "No ... Dick ... Stop!" Dick
stopped.  And she repeated, "You're hurting me."

It was then he said it.  She heard it and interpreted it as a
confirmation of everything her mother had tried to warn her
about.  He said, "It always hurts a little the first couple of
times."

"No, then.  I don't want to do it!" she whimpered.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, and pressed his now heavily throbbing
cock in a bit further.

"No ... please." She felt as though he were already ripping her
apart and he had only the head in -- what would happen when he
tried to insert the other seven inches?

Suddenly, Dick made one hard long thrusting motion.  "Gaaaaghhh,"
she screamed.  His hips fell heavily between her wide-spread
thighs, and she was pinned like a helpless butterfly to the bed.

"No ... God!  No," she cried aloud.  "Help me ..." The words
simply goaded Dick on to almost a maniacal frenzy.  He shoved his
pelvis hard into her squirming defenseless crotch ... seeking to
reach that soft yielding belly that had been denied to him for
over a year.  She was squealing like a stuck pig as his cock
reached the hymen and ripped through it like tissue paper touched
with a glowing red poker.  She splayed her legs out widely in the
air in an effort to spread her cunt even wider -- seeking to ease
the agony ... but it was hopeless.  The cruel impalement was
killing her, and he still did not have it all the way in.  Down,
down, down, ever deeper his rampaging cock ripped until she could
feel the agonizing head of it finally coming to rest buried all
the way to what seemed to be her navel.  His rigid fleshy column
was there only a second; he didn't even give her a chance to
adjust to it.  His motions -- back and forth -- became a wild
demented thing.  He pulled out,
 slammed it in -- seemingly attempting to drive it ever deeper
into her tortured pain-filled belly.  Finally -- and it seemed an
eternity, although it couldn't have been more than a minute or
two later, she felt his prick begin to throb as the hot eager cum
spurted from him and flooded her virginal womb.

All in all, he came three more times before he finally pulled his
penis from her vagina, before he stopped violating her body and
went to sleep.  Each time he had grunted and groaned out his
climax and she had felt it spurting inside her, it was more
painful, more disgusting than the first.  Sue wept silently.  Her
vagina was a throbbing nest of agony, and her silent desperate
screams echoed through her mind and she saw her mother's tightly
pressed lips saying, "See ... I tried to tell you."

At dawn the phone rang.  Sue, who had not slept, wearily reached
over to the bedside table and answered.  The hotel switchboard
operator cheerfully sang, "Good morning.  It's five-thirty."

"Thank you," Sue said, without feeling.

Beside her, Dick stirred and groaned.  "Whasszit?" he mumbled.

"Five-thirty," Sue answered.  "The airport limousine leaves at
seven.  I'll take my shower first, if you like."

Dick cocked one eye at her and made a sleepy effort to grin
lewdly.  "Why don't we both shower together?"

"No ..." she shook her head.  "No."

He shrugged.  "Okay, you take yours first."  He rolled over on
his side and was asleep again before she could answer.

Sue got out of bed, wincing at the painful tenderness in her
abdomen.  Her belly actually felt as if someone had repeatedly
kicked her there.  She felt as if she had been cut open in the
crotch, as if a stripped corncob had been shoved in there.  When
she looked down at the sheet, she saw it was matted over a large
area with brown blood and dried semen.  Wide-eyed in horror, and
with the room swirling around her, she gazed at her new peignoir.
 There was blood and sperm all over it -- front, back, hemline
and bodice.  She ran for the bathroom, put her head into the
toilet bowl, and vomited.  When she took off her gown later, she
had blood and semen all over her legs and in her pubic hair and
on her stomach and buttocks.  It looked as though she had been
wallowing in a slaughterhouse trough.

She used almost an entire bar of soap cleaning herself, but it
did no good.  She still felt dirty ... degraded.

When she got out of the shower and began towelling herself, she
noticed that the blood had begun, to seep again from her injured
womb.




                          Chapter 4


Dick wheeled the rental car around a curve on the side of a hill
and saw the castle down below on the shores of a rather large,
blue pear-shaped lake.  The sight looked like something seen on a
travel poster.  He glanced over to see if Sue had awakened yet,
but she slept on.  The poor kid, he thought; she had said she
hadn't been able to sleep at all for the last three nights.  He
put it down to bridal nerves, just as he put down her coldness
and reluctance to participate in the sex act to nerves.  She had
slept the sleep of the dead on the five-hour flight over -- not
even waking for supper.

Gently, he reached out and shook her awake.  "Sue, we're here."

She came awake slowly, her mind swimming reluctantly to the
surface of consciousness.  Then she remembered and abruptly sat
upright.  Her muscles ached and her entire body felt as if she
had been drugged.  Dick was smiling at her, and suddenly she felt
a great wave of tenderness and love go out to him.  Now that she
had had some rest, she was once more determined to make him a
good wife.  She loved him.  That and the knowledge that he loved
her would be enough for her.  She would permit him sex -- as much
sex as he wanted -- and she hoped and prayed that he would never
know how much pain he was bringing her each time he invaded her
body.  When they returned home, she would quietly go to a doctor
and get some suppositories to make her numb down there, something
to deaden the nerves.

Impulsively, she bent over and kissed his cheek.

Dick nodded his head toward the window.  "The castle," he said.

Sue took a deep breath when she saw the lake.  At the far end, a
small sailboat was a dot of white against a blue and green
canvas.  Smooth, green rolling hills came down to the water's
edge on the other side.  It was a land for long hikes, of walking
hand in hand, and communing with nature.  Below her, the castle
looked as if it had come out of another time period; which, of
course, it had.  There was a small dock and a large white sandy
beach.

Oh, Dick, darling.  It's so beautiful."  This sight alone had
made the journey worthwhile, she thought.

Dick grinned at Sue's animation.  It was the first time since
before the wedding that she had seemed her old self -- happy,
vivacious, and affectionate.  Last night at the hotel, he had
moments when he felt as if he were raping a stranger.  He simply
didn't understand it.  Hell, after he had made love to her the
fourth time, he had been able to sleep like a baby.  Yet,
apparently, she hadn't slept at all.  And she hadn't cum, either,
even thought he had prolonged his lovemaking in an effort to get
her there.  When he thought about, she was the first woman -- out
of the dozens he had had -- that he hadn't been able to build up
to a rip-roaring climax.  But, of course, she was his first
virgin ... and maybe virgins react differently, he thought.

The car swept down the hill, across a small stone bridge, and
reached the level.  Two large Irish wolfhounds met them at the
wrought- iron gate.  The dogs, barking furiously, ran alongside
the car until they reached the front of the castle.

Up close, the U-shaped structure looked larger than it had from a
distance.  Counting the crenelated roof, behind which archers had
once crouched , it had four stories.  The open part of the "U"
faced the lake.

The dogs stopped barking and sat on their haunches, gazing
expectantly at Dick and Sue, staring at the couple almost as if
asking, "Well, aren't you going to get out?"

Dick stepped out of the car and was scratching one of the dogs
behind the ear when he saw the woman coming toward them.  Tall,
full- breasted, black hair cut short, and wearing a long red and
grey striped hostess gown that accentuated her splendid mature
figure, she smiled and waved in greeting.  In one arm, she
carried a large bouquet of long stemmed yellow roses.  A wide
generous mouth, smouldering passionate black eyes with heavy
black eyebrows, and the rich tan indicated more than a little
Latin blood in her veins.  Dick thought with some delight and an
instinctive tightening in his groin: My God, what a sexy woman! 
And Sue, with considerable envy, felt almost childlike opposite
her.

"Hallo," she said warmly.  "I'm Nora Morgan.  You must be Dick
and Sue Bennett."  Her voice was melodic and deep, with just a
hint of Irish in it.

"We are," Sue answered, smiling timidly at her.

"These are for you, Sue," Nora said, holding out the roses.  Then
she held out her hand to Dick.  "Hello ... welcome to Castle
Fleur," she said again, shaking hands with him.  Her grip was
especially strong for a woman, and she had a disconcerting way of
looking at a man ... gazing right at him with such intensity that
Dick felt as if he were drowning in her eyes.  And, even though
he was on his honeymoon, Dick knew with a sudden guilty feeling
that he would like nothing better than to have those long legs
wrapped around his buttocks, those breasts straining against his
chest, and those full lips tightened back against her teeth in
lust ... as he pounded his hardened cock into her steaming pussy.

Nora's lower lip dropped almost imperceptibly as if she knew what
be was thinking.  Then she turned to Sue.  "You must be weary
after your long journey.  Come, I'll take you to your room so you
can freshen up." When Dick started to grab the bags, she shook
her head.  "No ... leave them," she ordered.  "I'll have one of
the boys bring them up to you."

Dick watched the two women walking in front of him; it was not a
good comparison.  Nora obviously was all woman -- and very very
sure of herself.  The long hostess gown covered her limbs, but if
her legs were like the rest of her -- arms, breasts, hips -- then
they would be perfect too.  Sue?  Well, Sue had every bit as good
a figure -- not quite as tall, but offsetting this was her
undeniable femininity, a sort of helplessness that made a male
want to protect her.  Actually, aside from colouring and height,
the main difference between the two women lay in their projected
sensuality and poise.  Sue seemed almost adolescently
self-conscious as she walked next to Nora, and if Dick had been
able to read Sue's mind at that very moment he would have
realized just how inferior his wife felt.

Nora led them to a spacious, expensively decorated room on the
third floor.  Large picture windows looked out over the lake and
distant hills.  "This is your sitting room," Nora said.  "Wood
for the fireplace is in the box there." She opened a connecting
door.  "This is your bedroom.  I'm sure you'll find it
comfortable." There was a big king- sized bed under a blue and
white striped canopy.  She indicated another door, "And the
shower ..." The shower, Dick noted, was large enough for three
people; it had an overhead nozzle and two fine spray nozzles
which shot a stream of water midriff -- front and back.  Dick
couldn't help thinking, "What a great play pen." Something must
have shown on his face, because Nora dimpled and Sue blushed.

"Dr. Morgan and I would like you to be our guests for cocktails
before dinner this evening," Nora said.

Sue glanced at Dick, who replied, "That's very kind of you, Mrs.
Morgan."

"You must call me Nora.  And Dr. Morgan shall insist that you
call him Tom."

"All right, Nora," Dick said.  "What time?"

"Well ... let's see.  You're the only guests we have at the
moment.  Lord Medwell and Lady Margaret will be checking in
tomorrow; then we have another young American couple due in on
Thursday.  So we can be flexible about dinner time tonight.  An
hour from now?"

Sue felt grimy after the flight and car trip.  She said, "I would
like to take a shower, and change into something else."

Nora was immediately apologetic.  "Of course, my dear.  How
thoughtless of me.  I'll have your bags brought up at once." She
glanced at her watch.  "It's five thirty now.  Shall we say seven
thirtish?"

Neither Sue nor Dick were prepared for Dr. Morgan when they met
him two hours later.  He had a stern military bearing about him
which was deceptive, for he turned out to be just as warm and
friendly as Nora.  And, as his wife had said, he did insist on
being called 'Tom'.  He was at least two inches taller than
Dick's six feet, and weighed in the neighborhood of 220 pounds --
and it was a lean 220 pounds at that.  A grey mustache cut a thin
line across his lips.  All in all, Sue thought as she stared at
him in open admiration, he cuts a dashing figure ... like
something out of a liquor ad or a suspense film about Scotland
Yard.  He, like his wife, exuded an animallike sensuality.  Side
by side, the Morgan couple definitely would be attention-getters,
even in a crowd of sophisticates.

Dick and Sue both felt at ease with them during cocktails in the
huge library.  This was surprising in view of the fact that Nora
was in her mid thirties and Tom probably in his middle or late
forties.

From the library, they went to the baronial hall-like dining room
where the four of them were served by a dour and silent old Irish
maid.  It was not until the final course that Sue got around to
asking, "What kind of a doctor are you, Tom?"

"A retired one," he said, smiling mysteriously as he held up his
wine glass to the candlelight and inspected its contents.

Nora said, "Tom!  Don't tease." She turned to Sue and said, "He
was a gynecologist -- a very successful and famous one, I might
add."

Tom snorted as though enjoying a private joke and a look of
warning was flashed by his wife.  As brief as it was, it
sufficed, for the man came back to his winning ways again.  "All
sorts of rich ladies with all sorts of rich ladies problems." He
shrugged and laughed.  "A very lucrative profession.  I made
enough in ten years to refurbish the family castle.  And here I
am."

Nora commented, "Actually Tom is much too modest.  He has a great
many other talents.  Right now he's doing some very important
research on ESP."

"ESP?" Sue asked.

"Extra sensory perception," Nora explained.

Tom, who was rolling a fork back and forth between his thumb and
forefinger, looked up and said, "It's mainly a hobby -- something
to keep me busy -- although the government is interested in the
experiments.  I believe that ESP can be enhanced by putting a
person in a light hypnotic state; then we place someone very
close to this person in another room and attempt to establish
communication betw