Much is written currently on adolescent sexuality and changing attitudes in our modern society. To those of us growing older, it simply seems that kids are starting earlier. This, though, is not necessarily the case. It would appear more likely that sexuality is more open and honest than in past American generations.
Rhonda, fifteen and a virgin, is just the typical sort of teenager awakening to the fact that she is, besides being a citizen, also a highly sexual being. And, with little communication from her elders to guide her ... save the token "sex education" received in school, which is little more than a gesture at information which really skirts all graphically honest, in-depth information ... she is really quite uninformed and naive about the mechanics and psychology of seduction and sex. Too, she is ripe, ready for sex, at least her body is.
This is quite often the case in our society, that through lack of communication and education, a person falls prey to more sophisticated, devious individuals, who may still have merely the purest of feelings toward that young target, but who cannot fight the highly powerful allure of eager pubescenece. Rhonda's case, as stated before, is a typical one; it could happen anywhere, even next door...
Suree Limited Inc. has made every effort over the past years to discover and present exactly what YOU, our esteemed reader, wishes to read. We have solicited comments and correspondence concerning sexual matters and adult reading tastes, and, while not all of those letters have been answered, most certainly each and every letter has been seriously considered in our editorial process.
We have something for you: the brand new Readers Choice Library, a sparkling, fresh line of paperbacks tailored to the readers' suggestions and designed to fulfill the readers' tastes. Of course there are nearly as many different sexual turn-ons as there are readers particularly speaking, but we feel that statistically the Readers Choice Library is the general mirror of what the reader ... not necessarily the publisher ... wishes to peruse.
Every attempt has been made to make the Readers Choice Library the perflect reflection of your reading tastes, and to do so, we urge you to write, IN ABSOLUTE, STRICTEST CONFIDENCE, signed or unsigned, with exact details about what kind of books you would like to read, or any other sexual matter of concern to you. Only in this manner can we be sure we are giving you what YOU want. Only YOU can do it ... and only if YOU write. No matter is too complex or difficult for us to consider, and all story suggestions will be turned over to our staff of writers all over the world.
THE PUBLISHERS
Chapter One
Rhonda let the housecoat slip from her shoulders and heard a swishing noise as it fell onto the floor. Underneath she wore a pair of light blue bikini panties and a soft matching bra. She looked at the contrast of her bronzed young skin against the almost shocking impact of her underclothes and felt a little giddy about being nearly naked in her mother's bedroom.
Her mother was safely tucked away, however, in the office where she worked in Bloomington. She wouldn't be home until after five and it was now only ten in the morning. Rhonda had the entire day free to herself and she wanted to take advantage of it. The June sun was already hot and there would be people out on the lake in boats and swimming on the beach. Staring thoughtfully into the mirror which reflected her semi-naked image, Rhonda told herself out loud that it was wonderful to be fifteen years old and alive on a pretty day with no one to tell her to clean up the kitchen or take out the garbage.
Her eyes swept up and down the full length mirror before she reached behind her back and unsnapped the bra. With a gentle tug, she managed to pull the garment off and free her perfect, pear-sized titties. The delicate flesh was ivory-colored except for the tanned upper halves and the pink, buttonlike protrusions of her nipples and the rosey aureoles that surrounded them.
While she watched, the nipples puckered into tiny, hard little peaks. Rhonda thought about the fact that nipples were make to suckle babies and the thought made them even more erect. She wondered what if would feel like to have each little bud between the lips of another human being. Or even to have another person touch them with fingers or the palm of a hand. Rhonda had only touched her breasts a few times herself but she knew she was going to touch them again, right there in front of the mirror in her mother's bedroom.
Slowly, shyly, she inched an extended forefinger up from the smooth belly to where her rib cage flared and divided. The fingertip felt hot as she brushed it across her skin and when she touched it to the center of her perky left breast, the contact was electrifying. Waves of delicious, queasy excitement rushed through her body, nearly toppling her.
"Gee," she said aloud to the mirror. "This never happened before!"
The mirrored image echoed her words and she slid the fingertip around the hard nipple four or five times. Rhonda felt a growing heat down between her legs and she had felt the heat before but never quite like this. With her free hand, she reached for the damp crotch of her blue panties and felt around just to see if it really was that hot down there. But when her hand finally found the lightly furred softness of her pubic nest, it lingered, seemingly of its own accord.
There was something alive down there and it begged to be experimented with. Something that felt good but was at the same time quite frightening. It felt too good, really, when she pressed a little harder and sensed her hips reflexively hunching forward to increase the pressure. There was also a connection between the hand that was now fondly caressing her titty and the one that was feverishly clutching her mound. Kind of like having a toothache and finding that the whole body is sore, only there was nothing painful about the feeling that was making all her teenage senses tingle with anticipation.
There was also guilt. Rhonda had never masturbated, but she knew what the word meant from her health class at schoool. She didn't even know for sure how it was done, but she had an idea that she was going to find out very soon. There had never been any words spoken in the house about masturbation, at least not by her mother. But one time Rhonda's older brother Stanley was in the bathroom for nearly an hour with the door locked and Rhonda had to pee but he wouldn't let her in. When he came out, redfaced and panting, she asked him why he'd locked the door. Stanley told her, "Because Mom'd kill me if she'd walked in a few minutes ago."
Rhonda wasn't quick to understand what he'd been talking about, but after a few days she realized that he'd been masturbating. And if their mother would kill him if she found out, what would she do her sweet, innocent daughter? Out of fear, she'd simply kept her hands away from between her legs and her thoughts on things like babies and schoolwork. Only now it was summer and there was no school work to be done and there were boys on the beach with bulges in their swim shorts that couldn't be overlooked even by a girl who wanted to be good.
She and Sue, her best friend at the lake, had talked about the boys on numerous occasions but Sue was as completely innocent as Rhonda and the discussions were invariably academic. Rhonda knew there was no way to really talk about something she'd never experienced, and neither she nor Sue had ever experienced anything sexual.
But Rhonda was experiencing something now, and she couldn't stop the action of her one hand on her titty or the other on her maddeningly throbbing mound. Finally she could no longer resist the urge to shimmy out of her sheer panties and see what was going on down there. Taking a deep breath, she hooked her thumbs on the elastic waistband and pushed the garment down over her hips and tingling pubes.
Completely naked now, she let her hands fall to her side and simply stared at the full length image of her nude body. Light brown hair cascaded down over her shoulders and brushed the tops of her adolescent breasts. The brown eyes that stared back at her were those of an innocent young doe, set in a face that had so far been completely free of the blemishes suffered by other girls her own age. Below the face was a delicate, slender neck that dipped sharply into the rim of a prominent collar bone.
Below the collar bone was a body Rhonda was unfamiliar with. She had long avoided looking in the mirror at her naked titties and silk-smooth belly and the way her hips flared out to provide the perfect frame for the vee-shaped sparse tangle of honey brown pussy hair. Now her eyes were fixed to the magic spot where her thighs came together. A stranger in even more strange territory, she felt the exhilarating rush of excitement that comes from discovering something completely new. With deliberation, she spread her legs and tilted her pelvis upward.
She could see the alluring groove she'd always known existed but had never really thought about. It reminded her of a furry apple with a narrow slice taken out of the middle, only there was an inexplicable lump of flesh right at the top of the slit. Curious as the child she was, she gingerly touched the lump with a scientific middle finger.
"OOOOOOOOOO," she cried, reacting to the pulsating rhythm of heat waves that raced through her body. Never, never had she felt anything like that before!
Using the finger like a precision instrument, she scribed a tiny circle around the nodule of erotic flesh, rubbing it gently on all sides. The sensation was so overpowering she dropped to her knees on the thick carpet of her mother's bedroom. She watched her face redden, not from embarrassment, but from the sudden heat that was produced by her anxious young body. Her features took on a wanton, abandoned look she'd never seen on anyone before and her middle finger fairly danced around the organ she didn't know a name for.
"Clitoris!" she suddenly said, remembering her health class and the diagram on the blackboard. It had to be the clitoris, the center of sexual excitement, the compact bundle of nerve-endings that could drive a woman into a frenzy.
Rhonda was certainly in a frenzy right now as she madly frigged her clit and stared, slack-jawed into the mirror. She had a free hand and remembered how good it had felt to play with her tittie before she'd discovered the headier delights between her legs. Instinctively, the free hand went from one nipple to the other, pulling, rolling and twisting the erectile flesh until she began to sob with pleasure.
Out of nowhere came a feeling that something was going to HAPPEN! Something big and important and earth-shaking. If she would just continue playing with herself, doing the things she had been doing, something fantastic would develop. The word "orgasm" drifted through her conscious mind and she wondered if this was what an orgasm felt like. Whatever it was, it kept getting stronger and stronger until she thought she might explode like a pricked balloon and go flying all over the room until she was completely deflated and lifeless.
The feeling grew so intense that it began to frighten her, but there was no way to stop now. Even if she had wanted to, she couldn't have told her hands to cease producing the most incredible pleasure she'd ever felt in her entire young life! Her knees became weak, and she finally fell backwards on the floor, unaware of anything but the excitement that raced through her nervous system and pounded in her veins.
"OH MY GOD!" she shrieked. "OH, MOTHER! OH, GEE, NO... OH... OOOOO WWWWWWOOOOOO WWWWWW!"
Orienting herself as to time and place, Rhonda found herself curled into an almost fetal position, one hand tucked tightly between her upper thighs, pressing hard against her dripping virginal pussy.
The other hand rested loosely on the nap of the carpet and she rubbed the scruffy shag for a moment before trying to sit up. Then, just as she managed to pull herself to an upright position, the telephone began to ring.
As though in a dream, she heard the ringing but could do nothing about it. Her body wouldn't respond to what her mind was telling it to do. It wasn't important anyway, she rationalized. If it was her mother, she would just think her daughter had gone out for a stroll on the beach. If it was ... oh, it would probably be Sue!
With great effort, Rhonda managed to get to her feet and walk to the telephone in the kitchen. She was aware of her nakedness as she walked and the new-found freedom of being unburdened by clothes. The telephone rang two more times before she reached it and pulled the receiver off the hook.
"Hello ..." she panted.
"Rhonda!?" It was Sue. "What's WRONG with you?"
"Wrong? There's nothing wrong. I just... uh, I was in the shower."
"Oh. Sorry to get you out, but I was wondering what you wanted to do today."
"Well, it's an awful pretty day out. I thought we might sunbathe on the beach. My tan's gonna fade if I don't get out a little more."
"Sounds good. Maybe we can meet some, uh, boys!"
"We might, but we haven't had a lot of luck so far." Rhonda's breathing had returned to normal and she felt like her old self again.
"Now don't be negative! We've only been here less than a month. Give love a enhance."
Rhonda laughed at her friend's perpetual optimism. "Come on over. I'll finish my shower and be ready in a few minutes."
"Okay. 'Bye."
It wasn't until the phone was back on the hook that Rhonda looked out the kitchen window and saw the mailman looking in at her. It took a second or so for her to realize that she was naked as a newborn baby and that the only thing between her and the mailman's leering eyes was a thin sheet of completely transparent glass. When the realization struck, she instinctively covered herself as best she could by putting both hands over her mound and covering her titties with her arms. Then she scurried back into her mother's bedroom with the man's laughter ringing in her ears.
"Damn him!" she snapped, looking at her red face in the full length mirror. She was angry at the audacity of the man playing peeping torn with her uncovered body, yet she felt a sudden surge of heat she had felt only moments before. She wondered if maybe it felt good to have a man look at you when you were naked, or if it was supposed to. Then she felt a slight twinge of fear, thinking the man might come inside the house before she left in the morning. There was no danger there. Only ... what if he DID come in? What would it feel like to have old Master Weathers running his hands over her body? Rhonda shuddered at the thought and quickly jumped into the shower.
While she was drying her hair, Sue knocked on the front door. Rhonda wrapped a towel around her body and went to anwer the knock. She smiled at her best friend and allowed the girl to enter. Sue walked across the living room and plopped herself down on the sofa with a sigh.
"You don't sound too good," Rhonda said.
"I'm not, if you wanta know the truth."
"How come?"
"Mom and I had a fight. You know the kind. Over the bikini I wanted to wear today."
Rhonda gave her friend a conspiratorial grin and asked how the fight had come out.
"Well," Sue began, smiling. "I waited until she had gone to the store, then I put my suit back on and left!" She stood up, unzipped the windbreaker she was wearing and opened it. "How about this?"
she asked.
"Oh, WOW! Where'd you get that?"
"In town." Sue took the windbreaker off and did a model's swirl.
Rhonda watched her friend's soft red hair flow around her shoulders as she turned, then took a good, close look at the new bikini. It was nearly the same color as her hair and so small it barely covered anything at all.
"My God, Sue! Did you know your ... your ... hair shows? Down THERE!?"
"Of course I know! That's why I bought it. There's no sense in hanging out on the beach all summer if the boys aren't gonna notice me at all!"
Rhonda had mixed emotions about her friend's swimwear. For one thing, the sight of Sue's curly red pussy hairs protruding from beneath the bikini crotch were strangely exciteing. She felt the tingle in her loins that she had felt for the first time less than an hour ago and knew that the dampness was growing between her legs already. If it was that exciting to her, she wondered what it would do to the boys on the beach! On the other hand, she hoped they wouldn't both be arrested for indecent exposure.
"Maybe I oughta wear my new suit," she said, mostly to herself.
"Let me see it!" Sue begged.
"Hang on a minute. I'll get it."
Rhonda's new suit was not a bikini, but one of the new one-piece "string" suits that were all the rage over in France. Rhonda realized that Orange Lake was not exactly the Riviera, but her mother had encouraged her to buy the suit if it was what she'd wanted.
In her own bedroom she dropped the towel she'd been wearing and removed the new suit from the top drawer of her bureau. In her hand, the lifeless garment felt like a pair of pantyhose, only not quite as heavy. The material was flesh-colored and when she held it up to the light, she oculd see right through it! But on her body, she knew it would take on a different character.
The leg holes were cut high and wide enough that her hip bones were completely exposed. There was no back to the suit whatsoever and the front consisted of two straps barely big enough to cover her nipples and tied behind her neck. Rhonda stepped into the suit and strutted proudly into the living room where her friend waited.
"Good Lord, Rhonda!" Sue cried. "You aren't gonna wear THAT!?"
"You sound like your own mother! What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing... except you can count every hair on your twitchet!"
"Nonsense! It'll be all right as long as I don't get it wet. And besides, at least my hair doesn't stick out under the leg bands like yours does!"
"I just have more hair than you do. I can't believe your mother let you buy that thing!"
"Well, she did. And maybe you're right. There's no sense in us hanging out on the beach without picking up a couple of boys. Maybe if we go out in these suits we won't have so much trouble!"
Mary Lousie Stapleton sat at the desk in her office and thought about her son and daughter. Usually she didn't have the time to indulge herself in the contemplation of family matters while at work, but there wasn't a whole lot to be done today and she was taking it easy. There were four letters to copy and mail and nothing else, so she poured herself a cup of coffee and pushed the typewriter away.
She was quite proud of the way they were both turning out, expecially since they had lost their father so young. For a moment, Mary's lips formed into a bitter frown while she thought breifly about her equally brief marriage to Tom. She'd married him when she was only seventeen and he a mere twenty years of age. They had both been nothing more than children and their relationship had been very much that of two immature children trying to play house, buy cars and have babies. For three years it appeared to work out quite nicely, but Mary ultimately realized one tear-filled day that they had no interest in common and did not talk to each other except for mundane discussions regarding the next night's dinner or if the insurance premiums had been paid.
Then Tom began staying later and later at work until finally he began staying overnight a couple times a week. When Mary got over wondering how the work of an auto parts salesman could be so demanding, she realized the simple truth that Tom was having an affair. She tolerated this knowledge in silence until one day she returned from the doctor's office with the two children and found a note with two simple words written on it: "I'm sorry."
Tom was gone and she never heard from him or of him again. She called his employer to find that he'd quit his job more than a week before his disappearance. A check with the local police turned up less than nothing and her attorney advised her that it was likely a well thought out disappearance and that he was probably gone for good. She filed suit for and got a divorce and that was fourteen years ago and she hadn't once contemplated remarriage since.
She dated and she had boyfriends who would last for a while until she found ways she wanted to change them but didn't have the ambition to do so. Then there would be a new boyfriend and he would last a while and then join his predecessors in exile. Mary didn't really think there was anything wrong with her or with the way she lived; she simply had not come across a man who meant enough to her that she could level with him and tell him what she wanted or didn't want.
She didn't worry about loneliness because she had Stanley and Rhonda at home and she wasn't lonely by nature if there was someone to talk to. Stanley had been the one most of the time because he was very precocious for his age and a member of the male sex. Mary liked men better than women and while her son wasn't a man yet, she found it easier to talk to him than to her daughter. Of course, he was away in college now aad she was left with Rhonda as the last at-home member of her family. Rhonda would be gone soon and there would be no one and Mary Stapleton didn't exactly know what she would do when that time came. She could only joke to herself that she would drive off that bridge when she came to it.
Stanley at seventeen was a bright young man who was interested in law and economics. He was kind and masculine and good-looking and Mary rarely gave his future a thought. He would be a lawyer or a public accountant or a judge or something. It cost a lot of money to send him off to Southeast College but she thought it was worth every penny to guarantee her son a future. He would do something and he would do it well and she would be proud of him until her dying day.
Rhonda was another story. Mary saw a lot of herself in Rhonda and it scared her. Her daughter was as naive as she herself had been at that age. With a twisted smile, Mary remembered that she had been an actual virgin when she'd married Tom. As though it was only yesterday, she could remember the night they were married, when she'd come out of the hotel bathroom wearing a white lace nightgown and Tom had pushed that nightgown up to her neck before sliding between her legs and shoving his impatient cock inside her vagina. She could remember the pain and the pleasure that almost, but not quite, resulted in an orgasm.
She closed her eyes and pictured her daughter in bed with some unknown young man, crying out in pain and perhaps writhing in pleasure. It would happen to Rhonda and it would probably happen soon. Young people were different now than they had been when Mary was young and it hadn't been all that many years ago. But they were still different, still more sexual, and it was just about time that Mary had a heart to heart talk with her daughter about the subject of birth control.
She grinned, remembering Rhonda coming out of the dressing room of the boutique In Indianapolis wearing the skin-tight, flesh-colored bathing suit. Mary didn't think her daughter had any idea whatsoever of the impact such a swimsuit would have on the average man. But Rhonda was young enough and pretty enough to get away with it and while Mary had concealed reservations at first, she finally tok herself to hell with it, why not let her daughter dress as she pleased? She just hoped the girl wouldn't end up raped by a gang of Hell's Angels or something worse. But then, a girl could get raped wearing a cast iron jump suit, so what difference did it really make?
"Morning, Mary."
The voice sounded familiar but far away and it took Mary a little while to realize that she'd been off in a dream world and had to bring herself quickly back to reality.
"Hi, Harry," she said in a controlled voice. Harry Engels was six feet tall and had black hair and smoke-colored eyes. He was handsome in a clean cut way, very intelligent and one of the attorneys she worked for at the office in Bloomington. He was also Mary's most recent, most current lover.
It had been very hot on the beach and Rhonda was pleased that she was in the shade of a large pleasant tre that grew on the bank of a small pond in Brown County. It seemed cooler here, not only in the shade, but even out in the sun. The trees seemed different and there were more hills and everything was greener. The pond was clear enough to swim in and there were no people around except for the boys who had brought Rhonda and Sue from the populated beach of Orange Lake to the secluded pond outside Needmore.
The boys seemed nice enough, even if they were three years older than Rhonda or her companion. They had both just graduated from high school that spring and were debating whether to go to college or into the military. One of the boys, Don Braxton, especially intrigued Rhonda with his knowledge of photography, and his red hair a shade or two lighter than Sue's, and his broad shoulders which sloped down to a narrow waist before disappearing into the faded denim of his Levi's cutoffs.
Fortunately, Don had taken an immediate interest in Rhonda and Sue was stuck with the guy Don called "Hadley". Hadley's complexion wasn't that good and all he could talk about was his brother in the Army. He was also skinny and had an Adam's apple that bobbed up and down like a yo-yo when he swallowed.
Hadley and Sue went for a walk in the woods while Don and Rhonda sat down beneath the tree with a half-gallon jug of illicit wine. They sat cross-legged, facing each other, and Rhonda suddenly felt very vulnerable in her new swimsuit. It was just so thin and there wasn't any padding and only a few feet away was a boy who was obviously interested in what went on underneath the sheer bathing suit.
She wasn't accustomed to drinking wine or anything else alcoholic, but Don offered her a paper cup full of the stuff and she drank it like it was water. It had a strong, fruity taste and it made her stomach feel warm after she swallowed. Don took a picture of her sitting under the tree and then sat back down. He poured more wine and then reached over to catch her hand For the third time that day, Rhonda felt something crazy going on in her insides. She had let other boys hold her hand before but this was a magic moment and there was more to it than simple affection. Don's hand felt warm and soft and she could somehow feel that the rest of him was warm and soft, too. With out touching him, she could feel his chest pressed against her titties and his legs wrapped around her own. She could feel his lips on her lips and taste his breath and she knew it was going to really happen very shortly.
When they came together, she tried to resist at first. It was all so new and strange and she didn't know if she could take him being so close like that. His body felt like it was a part of her body and his tongue was inside her mouth. She didn't even know that was how people kissed but she guessed it must be so or it wouldn't be happening. Don was older than she and had obviously been around girls before and maybe even made love to them ... whatever that meant.
She knew what it meant, actually. She knew it meant that the boy put his penis in the girl's vagina and did something with it while it was in there that made semen come shooting out of the end of it. Semen was a fluid that carried spermatozoa and the spermatozoa went up inside the vagina to the ovum and fertilized the egg that would become a baby. Rhonda knew all that, but she didn't know why her heart was beating so fast, or why she was sweating so much, or why everything she looked at seemed to be viewed through tinted glass.
Lying on her side with Don's body pressed against hers, she felt his hand running up and down her back, dipping lower and lower until she could feel his fingertips caressing the soft flesh of her buttocks through the thin material of her bathing suit. Something deep inside her belly tickled and she found herself thrusting her pelvis forward, just like she'd done earlier that day in front of the mirror. Only this time there was something for her to thrust against besides her own hand. Don was lying next to her, face to face, and when she hunched herself forward, she felt something very hard and very big underneath the cutoffs he was wearing. When she realized what she was feeling, she pulled away, but only for a moment.
Don groaned and pressed his lips that much harder against hers and shoved his tongue that much deeper inside her mouth. His thighs rubbed her thighs and her titties were crushed against the hardness of his chest.
"Oh, God, what am I DOING?" she whimpered.
"You're diggin' it baby, that's what." Don whispered. He pulled his face away from hers and contorted his body until he could move one of her bathing suit straps aside and slide one of her perfect, strawberry nipples into his mouth.
"Don..." she cried. "I don't... I don't know..."
"Yes, you do, baby, your body knows just fine."
Rhonda felt as though she was far away and watching herself make out with the boy instead of actually being there and really doing it. His tongue and teeth felt so exciting on her perky little nipple she thought she might explode. Both hands were on the cheeks of her ass, pulling them, rubbing them, moving deeper and deeper down until she could feel his fingertips tickling the stray hairs that sprouted around her rectum.
Her breath was coming in short, rasping pants and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It was as though she'd been engaged in some vigorous physical activity, yet she'd done nothing but lay on her side with her anxious young crotch pressed hard against his, feeling the throbbing hardness of his erect cock. Shyly, she wriggled her hips against his prick and felt a rewarding surge of pleasure course through her body.
Don pulled his face away from her sweet young tittie and said, "Touch it, baby ..."
Rhonda didn't need an explanation of what he wanted her to touch. But she was afraid to. If felt so strange and hard through the denim cutoffs and she wasn't sure she was ready to actually put her hand on it.
"I can't."
"Sure you can. All you have to do is stick your hand inside my pants and do it. Here ..."
Moving back to give himself room, the red-haired boy unsnapped the buttons on his shorts and unzipped the fly. Rhonda stared, transfixed, as his cock came into view. She hadn't seen a male member since she was a little girl and she and Stanley used to bathe together. But Stanley was little, too, and it just wasn't the same thing at all. Where her brother's prick had been a soft, white little worm, Don's was thick and long and rigid as a piece of wood. There were veins on it that stood out like the veins on a man's arm when he's lifting something heavy. The tip flared out like the head of a venomous snake and was all purple. It looked angry and she was afraid.
"Feel it," Don hissed. "Come on, baby. Put your fingers around it and pump it a little."
"Please, Don ... I'm ..."
"You're scared, aren't you? You've never done this before, have you? Hot damn, a cheery!"
Rhonda pushed him firmly away and stood up angrily. Here she was with a boy she'd known less than an hour and her bathing suit was half off and her titties were hanging out. Things had gone too far too fast and she wasn't going to let them go any further.
"What're you doin?" he demanded. "God, baby, I've got blue balls!"
She didn't know what he was talking about because she could see that his balls weren't really blue. They were a little red and puckered like chicken skin, but they weren't blue. And she didn't want to look at them any more. She didn't want him to look at her either and she quickly tucked her firm titties back inside the swimsuit.
"I want to go home," she said. "Now."
"Aw, baby! You don't know what it'll do to me to just stop like this!"
"I don't care. I want to go home."
Just then, Sue and Hadley came out of the woods holding hands. Rhonda wondered what they'd done during the time that she and Don were making out, but she didn't want to ask. She'd find out soon enough when she and her friend were alone.
Don leaped to his feet and zipped his shorts up like someone caught in an embarrassing position at a high schook dance.
"She wants to go home," he gasped, talking to Hadley. The other boy gave a curt nod and they were quickly back on the road headed for Orange
Lake..
The two girls got out of the car at Rhonda's house and watched their dates drive away in a flurry of squealing tires and loud motor noise.
"Good God!" Sue exclaimed when they were gone. "What was that all about?"
"Pd really rahather not talk about it right now," Rhonda told her. "I need some time alone ... to think."
"I guess I understand. I'll call you tonight or tomorrow. Or you call me if you want."
Rhonda leaned against the front door of her house and watched her friend walk away.
Chapter Two
Rhonda had been home no more than half an hour when she decided to go to bed. The wine had made her a little tipsy and the hot sun combined with all the strange feelings she'd been going through made her crave sleep in the worst way.
She took off the bathing suit and vowed never to wear it again unless she was on some secluded beach with her mother or alone. Then, finding a pair of pink baby-doll pajamas, she slipped between the sheets and let her head sink into the soft down pillow.
It wasn't so much Don's actions or demands that had frightened her that afternoon. It was her own response to them. She likened the situation to going for a hike with a moutain climber and being asked to scale a cliff. She didn't know how to scale a cliff and keep from crashing from the heights to a painful death at the bottom. Nor did she know how to engage in love making without being emotionally hurt or worse . .. becoming pregnant! She knew there were birth control measures available, but she didn't know how to go about purchasing them, if it was even that easy. Birth control pills probably required the advice and consent of a doctor and she was afraid of what the family doctor might tell her mother if she went to him on the sly. And she couldn't ask her mother for advice ... no way. Young girls just didn't talk to their mothers about such things.
Half asleep now, she ran her hands lightly over her slender, pubescent body and felt the thrill that was.already becoming familiar. But she stopped before her fingers found the secret treasure that lurked in the tangled pubic moss at the juncture of her thighs. Once in one day was enough, she decided. In fact, she wondered if she'd ever do it again, at all.
Mary Stapleton was still in her office, but she was no longer sitting at the desk with the typewriter in front of her. She was sitting on the desk and the office door was locked and she was not alone in the room. The drapes were closed over the big picture window that looked out across the street at the university and the only light was provided by a small, high intensity desk lamp.
"God, I love the taste of you ..." Harry Engels said in a hushed voice.
Mary looked down at him and giggled. It was a funny picture, the sophisticated attorney's face framed by the twin, cherry-tipped hills of her titties and farther down by the spread of her thighs. His chin was not visible at all because it was below the line created by the brillo looking tangles of her pussy hair. In the dim light, it almost looked like he had a strange new kind of beard.
Harry was on his knees on the plushly carpeted floor and he was glad the carpet was there, because his knees would be hurting by now if he was kneeling like that on a hardwook or tile floor. The air conditioner was bad enough: without a stich of clothes on he had gooseflesh on his arms and shoulders, but without the constant whirr of the machine, the moaning and groaning sounds they would be making in a few minutes would be heard throughout the office complex.
"Put your tongue inside me," Mary insisted. "Don't just lick my clit!"
"MUMMMMMMPH," Harry managed to say before thrusting his tongue deep inside the secretary's gushing channel. Her vaginal walls felt like a hot silk glove only they were very wet and getting wetter every time he slipped his tongue in or pulled it slowly back out. His hands were under the cheeks of her ass and he pulled them apart, searching for her tight anal opening with experienced fingers.
Mary's head rolled back on her shoulders and her jaw fell slack. Both her lover's hands were busy with her ass, so she reached for her own nipples and rolled them as though they were control dials on a television set. The twin cones hardened at her touch and she immediately felt the warning sensations of impending orgasm.
Years ago, she had discovered that her own sexual pleasure was something that didn't really concern the average man. Many men didn't seem to know or even care about making their women cum and those who did frequently became manipulative machines which twisted this way and pulled that way and Mary didn't like fucking machines at all. Orgasm was nothing more or less than a state of mind anyway, so she found no fault whatsoever with playing with her own titties or frigging her own clit while she was being fucked.
She also knew that it was exciting as. hell for a man to look up from his work and see an attractive woman wantonly playing with herself. She'd tried to encourage some of her more liberated lovers to do the same with themselves, but she'd had no success so far. Men just naturally seemed to be more inhibited than women and she didn't know why unless it had something to do with social programming. Men were hung up about the size of their cocks and about how long they could pound in and out of a tight cunt before shooting off and about how much noise the woman made just before or after they pumped their load of semen into the place that wanted it pumped. Actually, it had been Mary Stapleton's experience that nine out of ten men are just plain fucked up in the head.
But Harry was different. So far, they'd fucked in the men's room of the Bloomington courthouse, on a motorboat out on Orange Lake, on the balcony of his apartment in broad daylight, and now they were going at it in Mary's office. She'd never fucked him that she didn't cum at least two or three times, and the balcony scene had been so exciting she'd cum so many times she lost count.
Right now she was ready to cum again, and Harry hadn't even considered getting off his knees and sticking his pulsating prick inside her cunt. He had one of his fingers shoved as far up her ass as it would go and he was rolling it around in there enough that she could feel the walls of her vagina being indented and compressed. Other fingers were gently teasing her hair-lined outer lips and stroking her slick, wet perineum. When he finally slid his tongue out of her clutching hole and proceeded to bite her clit in a painless but firm manner, she cried out.
"Jesus, HARRY! OH GOD, I'M GONNA MAKE
IT! OH! HONEY!"
Harry didn't say a thing, of course, having a mouthful of delicious, quivering pussy. He could feel the muscle spasms happening in her thighs and her breathing became so accelerated, he was half afraid she'd become dizzy and fall off the desk. He sucked hard on her clit and wiggled his mouth back and forth and up and down until he felt feminine fingers grabbing his ears and forcefully pulling him to his feet.
"FUCK ME!" Mary begged. "Fuck me till I can't stand it any more!"
Harry stook up and pulled the secretary farther out on the edge of the desk and put his arms around her. Their mouths came together, open and hot, tongues dancing to a rhythm that was heard only by them. Mary's firm titties were crushed against the attorney's chest and her hands glided down the hard-muscled broadness of his back until they found the target, small globes of his buttocks.
She didn't need to guide him inside her. His prick angled out from his body at about twenty-five degrees and when she pulled him close, the swollen-wedge-shaped head naturally plunked inside the opening to her slippery tunnel. She pulled harder and felt his pelvis slam home against her own. Her clit was pulled almost inside her vagina by the force of the thrust and she nearly swooned with the pulsing sensations that rippled through her body.
Harry pulled back out until only the tip of his dripping cockhead was still inside Mary's pussy. Then, taking his time, he glided slowly back up to the hilt. Her breath came out in a sudden, rasping rush and she sucked it back in just as the man's rock-solid cock slipped back out.
"Now!" she cried. "GIVE IT TO ME!"
Whatever control Harry might have had vanished at the sound of her throaty plea. Without warning, he slammed his throbbing cock hard into her and held tight. He could feel the mouth of her womb yielding to the pressure and the strong muscles of her vagina clutching and pulsing. For several seconds, he didn't move at all. Then he eased himself back out and slammed hard against her again.
Each time Mary was impaled with such vigor, she felt the impending waves of orgasmic pleasure rise higher and higher. Her stomach fluttered with the pleasure-weakness and her legs felt numb, kind of like the way they did when she had Rhonda and the anesthesiologist gave her a saddle back and she was numb from the waist down. Only she wasn't that numb now! Aside from her legs every part of her body was alive with sensation. Her brain fairly tingled with excitement and anticipation. Her arms and shoulders felt like she had a firm grip on a low voltage hotwire and her stomach muscles were tied in knots.
Harry changed his thrusting method and began putting a hook into each movement, twisting slightly sideways as he rammed his cock home. The change caused her clit to be pulled slightly to one side and then the other and her excitement grew tenfold. She grabbed the cheeks of his ass and increased the tempo of their fucking by pulling him against her faster and harder. Soon the office was filled with the slap-slap sounds of high speed fucking and the moans and groans of two people who appeared to be nearly dying of a pleasure overdose.
Then the telephone rang.
"For Christ's sake!" Harry growled.
"I'll... I'll get it! Just, oh Lord, just let me pull myself together for a minute."
"They're probably looking for me...."
"Well, here you are!"
They both laughed and when Mary recovered from laughing, she picked up the receiver. "Miss Stapleton," she said, as businesslike as a woman could sound while sitting on her desk with a ramrod stiff prick stuffed as far inside her as it would go.
"Mary?" It was the receptionist. "I thought maybe you were out for coffee. It's an outside call on line four."
"Thank you, Barbara." Mary pressed the appropriate button and said, "Miss Stapleton here."
"Good! This is John. I was afraid you'd be busy."
"I am busy. How are you, John?" She watched the expression change on Harry's face. John was an old lover and Harry knew about him.
"I'm just fine, sweetheart, but I need to see you. When could we get together?"
"What do you need to see me about?"
Harry slowly pulled his cock out to the head, then slushed it gently back inside, causing a quaver in Mary's voice.
"Nothing, really. I just wanted to talk to you. You know, kind of get together in a bar or something. Just like old times."
"Just like old times," she repeated, reaching down between her legs and cupping Harry's balls. "Well, I'm busy tonight. How about tomorrow?" "What time?"
"Say, right after work. You could meet me here, and we could have a drink before I go home." "Sounds okay to me. I'll see you then." Mary was thankful to hear the click-click as the call was disconnected, but when she replaced the phone on the hook it immediately rang again.
"Shit!" she hissed, no longer pleased with the novelty of talking to one person while being pronged by another. More than a little perturbed, she picked the receiver back up. "Yes," she said flatly.
"Mary?" It was Barbara again. "Mister Peters wants to see you right away about the Bellsworth case."
"Thank you, Barbara." She hung up the second time and looked squarely into Harry's adoring eyes. "Mister Peters wants to see me."
"Hell! A person can't even fuck in peace in this office!"
Mary laughed, but cut it short. "Jesus. Let's get dressed before they start knocking on the door."
Rhonda awoke from her nap feeling a lot better than she did when she first went to bed. She'd had a couple of confusing dreams but they weren't really nightmares and she couldn't even remember what they were about after she was completely awake.
Her first conscious though was hunger. She hadn't eaten anything all day and the wine had given her an appetite. A quick glance at the alarm clock beside her bed told her it was only three in the afternoon. Her mother wouldn't be home for more than two hours and that was too long to wait to satisfy the craving in her stomach. Maybe she would fry a couple eggs and some bacon and then put dinner on after she had snacked.
She pulled on a clean pair of yellow panties and found a snapless bra that roughly matched. Even though no one ever saw her in her underwear except her mother or Stanley or Sue, she still liked the idea of wearing matching colors. A pair of tight jeans and a T-shirt completed her attire and she walked into the kitchen..
After opening a coke, she set the eggs and bacon out on the counter top. The coke washed away the sour remains of wine taste and she turned the left front burner of the electric range to medium. The sun cast pretty shadows around the room and there were birds singing in the woods away from the lake and she felt happy for the first time that day.
She waited a substantial amout of time before tearing the strips of bacon out of the package and placing them in a skillet. Then she put the pan on the burner and waited for the meat to start cooking. Five minutes later, she decided there was something wrong with the stove.
She tried the other burners, but nothing happened there, either. There were a few dollars in her jewelry box, and she could always go down to the Port Hole Inn for a hamburger, but then supper wouldn't get cooked in time for she and her mother to eat. In fact, it might not get cooked at all unless her mother knew more about electric stoves than she did.
Rhonda sipped thoughtfully on her coke for a minute, then decided to call the office. Barbara answered and recongnized her voice. "You want your mother?" she asked. "Yes, please." There was a clicking noise on the other end of the line and finally her mother's familiar voice came on. "Hi! What's up with you?"
"Darned old stove won't come on," the girl complained.
"It won't? It worked fine this morning."
"Yeah, but that was this morning. I can't get any of the burners to come on and we won't have dinner unless we go out." Rhonda sighed and she heard her mother sigh too.
"Listen, I'll tell you what. One of our clients ... it's Benson Electronics. I'll call them and see if they can come right over and fix it. If they can't, we'll just have to go out tonight. Did you have any lunch?"
"That's what I was fixing."
"Well, go get a hamburger. You have money, don't you?"
"Sure."
"Okay, but leave the door unlocked if you're gone so the man can get in to do the work. Oh, by the way, I'll be a little late tonight."
"How come?"
"I'm, uh, going over to Harry Engel's to go over a case he's working on. I'll be home by seven for sure."
"Okay, Mom. I'll see you then."
"'Bye, honey."
The phone went dead and Rhonda hong vp. She thought about putting the eggs and bacon away before leaving, but she wanted to go ... l back in time to be there when the repairman came ... if he came. So she quickly got her money from the bedroom and slipped into a pair of sandals for the walk to the Port Hole Inn.
It was hotter out than she remembered and it seemed like the humidity was up a little from that morning. By the time she'd walked a hundred feet she could feel the dampness gathering under her arms and on her neck. Fortunately, the Inn was air condidtioned and she was extremely thankful for the cool blast of air when she stepped inside.
The restaurant was divided into two parts, one being for adults and the other for kids and families. A part of Rhonda yearned to be an adult and to be able to sit in the forbidden side and maybe drink a cool beer. Another part of her didn't like the atmosphere of the cocktail lounge and the people who always seemed to be in there. Men with red faces who smelled like whisky and cigarettes and aftershave. Women with a lot of makeup and hair up on top of their heads.
"Can I help you?" the waitress asked after she sat down at a small table.
"Sure. I'd like a cheeseburger and french fries.
And a coke, too."
The kindly looking woman with white hair and a white uniform jotted the order down on her pad and walked away. Rhonda watched her go, then glanced around to see if she knew anyone at the other tables. She didn't recognize any of the half dozen people and turned her thoughts inward.
One of the strange things about being fifteen, she decided, was that you were neither a child nor an adult. She and her brother had talked a little about that when he'd been home for the break between spring and summer quarters. For him it was probably even worse, because he was older and more of an adult and less of a child, but still forbidden many of the things that adults were able to have. But for her it was bad enough.
She'd felt very much like an adult that morning, standing in front of her mother's full length mirror with no clothes on. Just remembering gave her a tingling sensation in the bottom of her stomach. She remembered touching her titties and running her fingers through the hair that grew between her legs. Children didn't have titties or pubic hair and they didn't have to shave under their arms or shave their legs. Rhonda didn't have to shave her legs yet, but she knew she would have to start doing it pretty soon.
Children had feelings, but they were different from the feelings you had when you got to be thirteen or fourteen. She could remember being a child and concerned with things like eating, drinking or going to the bathroom with embarrassing problems. But she couldn't remember thinking about boys except to tell herself that they were disgusting with their pet frogs and lizzards and things.
Now boys meant something entirely different to her. The terrible thing was, she wasn't sure what they did mean. She knew that people grew up and got married and that they got married because they were in love, but she didn't know what it meant to be in love. Her mother and father had probably been in love, but she couldn't even remember what her father looked like or how he talked. She could only remember that somewhere she did have a father.
Stanley could remember better than she could and he couldn't remember all that much. She didn't think Stanley had every been in love either, or he probably would have said something about it. Just as the waitress arrived with the hamburger and fries, Rhonda found herself wondering if it wasn't a lot more difficult for a girl like her to understand the mysteries of life and love when she didn't have a normal mother and father to watch and learn from.
"Here you are, young lady," the waitress said, setting the plate in front of her.
"Thank you," Rhonda replied politely.
When she took her first bite of the sandwich, she realized something was amiss. Usually the Inn's burgers were "primo", but this one didn't have any taste at all. She tried the french fries and they were just as tasteless. The coke tasted like coke, but even it was flat.
Still, the urge for survival was stronger than the urge for fantasmagorical indulgence, and Rhonda munched away steadily until only bread crust and a few overcrisp fries were left on her plate. While she ate, she thought about the boy with red hair and tried to recreate the circumstances which had led to her lying beside him on the bank of the little pond with a bottle of wine and a lustful desire to do something she'd never done before.
She and Sue had been sitting on the beach soaking up the rays in their spiffy new suits. This was nothing unusual. For two weeks or more they'd been sitting on the beach watching the boys and the other girls and wondering how long it would be before they found themselves involved in some kind of romance with someone, instead of simply sitting and watching everybody else.
Then Don and Hadley had walked up and spread a blanket out within talking distance of the girls. They had a radio with them and tuned it in to an FM rock station that broadcast out of Indianapolis. Rhonda and Sue listened to the music and exchanged glances for a while until Don leaned their way and asked if they lived on the lake or in town.
This opened the door for a conversation that didn't end until the four of them were in Hadley's car headed for parts unknown. It all seemed so easy and spontaneous when Rhonda thought about it. Simplest thing in the world. A boy and a girl start talking and pretty soon they're making out.But how did you tell if you were in love with someone.
She decided she wasn't in love with Don because she didn't like the way he acted when she told him she was afraid. Only, what that really meant was that she didn't like him and was there a difference in liking someone and being in love with him? And if there was a difference what was that difference and how did you go about deciding between the two?
Rhonda needed to talk to someone who knew more about such things than she did and Sue wouldn't be any help at all. Sue didn't know tapioca from apple butter when it came to affairs of the heart and Rhonda knew this well because she knew Sue as well as she knew herself. They had spent endless days and nights together since they were both in the second grade and what one didn't know about the other wasn't worth knowing at all.
Yet, Sue would be better to talk to than no one, and Rhonda couldn't imagine just who she might beard on the subject. Her mother would be helpful... no doubt about that, but how would she go about explaining to her mother what had brought the question up in the first place? She couldn't just say, "Mom, I was out drinking wine with this boy with red hair and we were lying down by a pond and started making out... ." No, she couldn't say that and she couldn't say she'd gotten freaked out when the boy unqipped his shorts and wanted her to put her hand on his... no, that would never do at all.
The plate was empty and the coke was gone and Rhonda stepped up to the cash register, pulling a couple of crumpled green bills out of the front pocket of her jeans. The bill paid, she left a quarter tip, like her mother had instructed her to do in such situations, and started back to the house.
It was hotter still on the way home, and as soon as she hit the front door she started wishing the house was air conditioned. Funny, she thought, how it hadn't bothered her earlier in the day. In fact, it hardly ever bothered her but right now she was hot as a firecracker and just had to get into something cooler than jeans and a T-shirt.
In her bedroom, she stripped down to bra and panties and then decided the bra was part of what was causing the discomfort. Where the seams came in contact with her skin, there were pockets of perspiration. Without a thought for modesty, she shed the garment and went back to the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of pink bikini panties.
The bacon and eggs on the drainboard caught her attention and she realized with a start that a repairman might be coming at any moment to fix the stove. And there she was half naked, maybe three-quarters naked, standing right in the room where he would have to work! That wouldn't do, no matter what, so she went back to the bedroom to find something decent that would still allow her body to breathe.
In the closet there was a very short white muslin dress with red and gold embroidery around the yoke. She donned the dress but was dismayed to find that she was still hot, only now the heat seemed to be concentrated around the area of her hips. Probably the tight bikini panties, she thought. It was easy enough to take them off, which she did, but she would have to remember if the repairman came to keep her legs together and her dress pulled down.
In the kitchen, she carefully extracted the bacon from the skillet and put it back in the wrapper. Then she put the bacon and eggs both back in the refrigerator and wiped the counter off with a sponge. No use in letting a stranger think untidy people lived in their house.
Then she opened another coke and sat down at the kitchen table to leaf through a movie magazine. Usually she was intrigued with the romances described in such periodicals, but this afternoon she found herself dwelling on the pictures. Photographs of handsome men and attractive women, holding each other, appearing together at parties and grand openings, caught at descreet little Hollywood restaurants on the sly. Rhonda kept noticing that the women were dressed in what might be considered a seductive fashion.
Rhonda started thinking about seductiveness and what it really was. Were women seductive because of the way they dressed, because of halter tops that showed off their titties and skirts that were slit up to the thighs, or was it just a look that some women had and some women didn't? A photograph of Cher caught her eye, and she decided the lady singer was certainly seductive, for whatever reason.
Rhonda's mother was seductive, she knew. Only her mother never dressed in revealing clothes ... at least no more revealing than any of the other women who lived around the lake. Maybe a pretty skimpy bikini for sunbathing or a low-cut gown for going out in the evening to some place fancy, but never anything like the women of Hollywood wore. Yet, she was still seductive in a way that men looked at her when she walked or even drove by them.
Did she have that same seductiveness, Rhonda wondered? Was it something you inherited, or was it something that developed over a period of years? An image of Sue came to mind; Sue in her mini-minibikini with little tufts of flaming red pussy hair sticking out of the crotch and somehow Rhonda couldn't think of her friend as being seductive. Still, the sight of that new bikini had started the juices flowing down between her legs and Rhonda was a girl and shouldn't be excited by such a thing at all.
In gym class at school the girls frequently saw each other naked, but Rhonda couldn't remember being turned on by any of those encounters. Maybe it was just the uptight atmosphere of being in school and having to race into the shower and dry off before the next class started. Maybe if there was a lot of time to lounge around naked in the locker room there would be a lot of girls turned on by each other's bodies. But wasn't there something wrong with girls being turned on by other girls' bodies? It seemed that she could remember some gossip or other about what happens when girls like girls or boys like boys instead of boys and girls liking each other. It was called homosexuality. Flipping through the back pages of the magazine, looking at lingerie ads, Rhonda found herself hoping she wasn't a homosexual.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway. Maybe not a car, but a truck instead. It made more noise than her mother's little Pinto and sounded bigger somehow. Rhonda left her seat at the table and went into the living room to look out the window.
It was a small van with no windows except in the front. The color was a dull, faded red and the words "Benson Appliance Repair" were stenciled on the front door under the window. Rhonda couldn't really see the man inside except to know that he was looking at a notebook or something. Then she heard him or someone talking on a radio. ISure enough she could see the microphone in the man's hand and she realized he was reporting in to the place he worked that he was at the Stapleton residence.
When the man finally opened the door of the van and stepped down on the concrete driveway, Rhonda sucked in a breathful of excited air. She'd seen handsome men before, especially the ones her mother brought home after going out with them. But this one was something else altogether. He was so good looking that the word beautiful seemed to fit him more than handsome.
Maybe it was the shoulder-length blond hair that made her think of him as beautiful. His hair was certainly prettier than Rhonda's and she was almost jealous of it. His face was clean shaven, whereas most of the men in Bloomington who wore their hair long had beards or mustaches. His eyes were brown, so brown that she could see the color from a distance. His shoulders were very broad but his waist and hips were unbelievably narrow. When he disappeared from view behind the cedar tree in the front yard, Rhonda felt herself shaking inside. Then the doorbell rang.
"Yes?" she said, in a voice that intimated, she was expecting no one.
"Hello," the man said, very softly. "I'm Bill Sommers, with Benson Appliance Repair. I was told to come here to check out your electric range."
"Oh, yes," she replied in a voice that was not her own. She couldn't stop looking at the man's eyes but managed to explain, "Yes, it does seem my mother mentioned something about it."
She stood to one side and Bill Sommers brushed past her, gently grazing her arm with his own. Without asking directions, he walked right into the kitchen and stopped at the stove. Rhonda was breathless by the time she arrived at his side.
"What's the problem here?" he asked, taking his eyes from the stove and leveling his gaze, not on Rhonda's eyes but on the front of her dress where her perky little titties pressed against the gold flowered embroidery.
Blushing, she said, "The burners won't come on."
"Okay, then," the piercing brown eyes came up to face level. "First thing to check is the fuse box. Know where that is?"
"Sure, in the laundry room. Only ... I'll have to move a couple of things so you can get at it." Feeling a strange nervousness, she hurried down the short hallway,, past the bathroom and to the door of the laundry. Inside, there were boxes of Christmas decorations stacked at the end of the room where the fuse box hung on the wall.
Bending over to grab the biggest of the boxes, Rhonda suddenly realized that she was wearing a very short dress and had no panties on underneath. She hadn't heard the footsteps, but she knew the repairman was standing behind her, waiting for access to the fuse box. If he was back there, he was probably looking at her bare bottom ... unless he was a monk or something. Her first impulse was to quickly right herself and pull the dress down. But something made her stay in the same bent-over position with her legs spread slightly apart. "It seems stuck on something," she lied. "Here, let me see," said Bill. He quickly strode over beside Rhonda and grabbed the box. Close up, she could see the wrinkles around his eyes and across his forehead. She wondered how old he was to have wrinkles like that but her thoughts were distracted when he easily picked the box up and moved it over to a less obstructive area.
She stood upright, her tight little fanny covered once again, and felt ashamed of what she'd done. But when the repairman came back for another box, she looked down at the front of his pants and saw they were all tented out. She remembered her experience with Don earlier that same day and realized that the man had an erection! A grown man, maybe thirty, thirty-five years old ... and he had an erection from looking at HER!
Suddenly she was overwhelmed by a newfound sense of- power. She remembered how upset Don had been when he realized she wasn't going to touch his cock, much less do what it was that he really wanted... to go all the way. She didn't understand this power, but it had something to do with everything she'd been thinking about. There was something about the female body... about HER body, that caused men to desire sex. And once the desire was flamed to life, a man obviously wanted to do something about it. And if she didn't do anything about it, the man would become angry. If she did do something about it, the man would no doubt be very happy.
Bill had moved enough boxes that he could get at the power source for the house. Taking a screw driver out of his shirt pocket, he removed the cover plate and looked inside. Skillful hands reached inside and pulled out a piece of black plastic. He inspected the piece, slipped it back into place and flipped a switch.
"Let's go turn the burners on and see if they work now," he said.
Wistfully, Rhonda followed him back through the hallway to the kitchen. The man twisted the dials for all four burners and then went after the oven switch. The little red lights came on adjacent to each burner knob and within minutes the burners were warm enough to feel that they were working.
"No problem," the man said. "Gee, it sure was easy to fix." "All it means is that the circuit became overloaded and threw the breaker off."
"Breaker?" Rhonda didn't have the slightest idea what the man was talking about.
"Yes, it's like a fuse. You know what a fuse is?" "Yeah..."
"Well, it's that thing I took out of the metal box in the laundry room. If it happens again, you just go in there, find the breaker that says stove right next to it and flip it on."
"I'll remember that. Say.. . would you like a coke or something? It's awfully hot out!"
Sommers said, "Sure," and then his eyes widened as Rhonda bent over to remove two big bottles from the bottom of the refrigerator. His gaze followed her firm, narrow ankles up along the tanned graceful curve of her calves and the silken swell of her thighs. At the tops were two half globes that framed the pink rosebud of the girl's asshole. Below the puckered opening, tangles of blonde hair began to grow and centered in the tangled moss he briefly glimpsed the glistening pinkness of her pussy.
It was no accident this time and Rhonda had to stifle a giggle when she straightened up and closed the refrigerator door. She had planned the little peep show while Sommers was busy testing the stove. It couldn't possibly hurt anything and besides. .. she wanted to see what happened afterward.
What happened was the repairman sat down at the table and appeared quite shaken. His complexion was suddenly ash-colored and when he reached in his uniform pocket for the statement booklet, his hands were shaking.
"How old are you?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the bill he was writing.
"Suh.. . seventeen," Rhonda lied. No one would ever know the difference and anyway, if he thought she was seventeen, maybe ... just maybe there was a chance that he might be interested in her. She knew one part of her body interested him half to death!
"Have you graduated yet?" Now his eyes came up from the bill and they focused on Rhonda's.
"No, not till next year."
"Well," he said, taking a sip of coke before continuing. "Enjoy it while it lasts. It's a whole different world when you're out on the street trying to make a living."
Rhonda had heard that before and had learned only that year in school that things you heard over and over again were called "cliches." But somehow the repairman seemed dead serious about it and she found herself liking the way he talked.
"Are you in school at the university?" she asked him.
Sommers broke into a quick laugh and the color returned to his face. "No, I haven't been in the university for ten years. I dropped out just twenty hours short of my Master's degree. Of course, I hadn't done the thesis either."
"What were you studying?" Rhonda leaned forward, elbows on the table, knowing that the front of her dress was falling away to reveal most of her perfect little titties.
Sommers gulped. "Psychology," he sputtered, his eyes sliding uncontrollably in and out of the girls dress front.
"Really?" She shifted slightly to give the man a better view, feeling intensely excited and just a little bit guilty. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright and folder her arms across her breasts.
"Listen," Sommers said before taking a giant swig of coke. "I have another call or two to make. So I'd better get going. Here's the bill. If you have any more trouble just give the company a call."
"Okay. Thanks for coming out."
"It's my job," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. He rose to his feet like a man who would have preferred to remain seated. Once standing, the hardness that had so suddenly crossed his face was gone.
"Well, thanks again," Rhonda said, fumbling for words.
"Say," Sommers started, as though he had a very bright idea. "I'd really like to take you out somewhere. A movie maybe, or there's a great coffee house in Bloomington ..."
"Really?" Rhonda's heart was racing and she could feel the blush coloring her face. "I'd ... I'd love to go."
"When would be a good day?"
"Well.. . tomorrow night my mom and I are going out to dinner and she'll be late tonight. I'd have to tell her you know. But maybe day after tomorrow. Night after, I mean."
"That sounds great. I'll drop by here around seven."
Without further discussion, Bill Sommers was out of the house and in his company truck. Rhonda remained standing in the kitchen, her mind racing like wildfire.
"A date!" she cried. "An honest to God date with a real grownup man!" She reached under her short dress and patted the furry warmth of her virginal pussy. Suddenly she was awestruck with the realization that it was her pussy, that secret dark place between her legs that had earned her the date. And if it could achieve the unachievable like it had done, what else might she use it for?
"I just have to talk to someone," she said to the vacant room. She pondered for a moment, realized there was only one person she could talk to about such things and reached for the telephone.
Chapter Three
"Funny you called," Sue said, coming in the front door without knocking. She was wearing skin-tight Levi's cutoffs and a skimpy knit halter top that was covered with paisley flowers.
"Why's it funny?" Rhonda asked her friend.
"'Cause I needed to talk to someone and you know I don't have anyone to talk to except you."
"Come on into the kitchen. I have to put dinner on. You're invited you know."
"Yeah, you said so on the phone."
The two girls sauntered into the kitchen and Sue plopped her tight little denim-clad ass down in a chair. She casually spread her legs apart so the cool indoor air could circulate around the places that were overly hot and humid.
Rhonda took some hamburger and onions out of the refrigerator and when she closed the door her friend gasped, "God, Rhonda, you don't have any panties on!"
"So..." the girl shrugged her shoulders, delighted with the knowledge that the repairman had indeed caught sight of the fact that she'd been naked under the short little dress.
"Well... uh ..." Sue was obviously short of words to express her feelings on the matter. "I... uh .. . it just doesn't seem natural!"
"Natural! I'm surprised at you. You sound more like your mother every day!"
"Oh, come on. I don't care if you wear panties or not, it's just that... well, I don't know."
Rhonda was feeling a new sense of power with her friend and she decided it was only because she was gaining some experience with men. "What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked.
"Whadaya think? Comic books?"
Rhonda laughed. "No," she said seriously. "I'll bet it's about those boys that picked us up today."
"Right on. Did that character you were with try any, uh ... funny stuff?"
"Funny stuff? I'm not sure I know what you mean," Rhonda said, knowing full well what her friend meant, but excited at the idea of Sue explaining in detail.
"Well, let me tell you what happened with me and Hadley. He's strange!"
"Okay, so tell me."
"Well, you know when we went for a walk... after we'd all been swimming. We went around to a little cove in that pond where you guys couldn't see us and Hadley said we should go skinny-dipping!"
"Gee! Really?"
"I'm not kidding! He said we should both take off all our clothes and jump in the water stark naked!"
"What'd you say?"
"I told him he was crazy! But it made him mad and he said he was gonna go swimming in the nude, and if I didn't want to I could just watch him. So I did!"
Rhonda started whacking at the onions with a vegetable cleaver. "What was it like."
"Weird, that's what. All he had on were those shorts and a T-shirt and they came off just like that. There Hadley was, grinning at me with his ... his, uh"
"His cock!" Rhonda said, helping her friend.
"Yeah, that's right. He was standing there with his cock hanging out, only it wasn't really hanging, you know?'
"No, I don't." The tears were coming to her eyes from the raw onions and she sniffled a couple times.
"Well, it stuck out, kinda. More than that. It almost stuck straight up!"
"I didn't know they did that," Rhonda admitted.
"I didn't, either. I mean, you know, we read about erections in school, but WOW!"
"Did he go swimming?"
"Yeah, he jumped right in and splashed around for a while and then came back out. Only he didn't put his shorts back on. He just laid down on the grass ... right next to me!"
"He was dressed when you guys came back ..."
"Well, see..." Sue paused for a minute and looked like she didn't really want to go on. But she gathered her courage and continued. "He laid there for a little while on his back and then he sat up Indian fashion. He asked me to sit up, too, and I did, facing him, and I couldn't take my eyes off his ... cock!"
"He could tell, I mean, it was pretty obvious. So he asked me if I liked looking at it. I told him I did and he asked me if I'd like to touch it. I told him not particularly, but he grabbed my hand anyway and yanked it over there .. . you know . .. put it right on it."
"What'd it feel like?"
"Rhonda! You have no idea! It was the most incredible thing I've ever felt! It was as smooth as velvet only hard as a ballbat. I just didn't know they got like that!"
"Well, what else did you do? Just set there and hold it?"
"No, he said he'd make me cum if I'd let him slip his hand inside my bikini bottoms and then run my hand up and down on his thing. I didn't know what he meant by cum, but as soon as he started playing with me I got the idea. God! It felt so good and it just got better and better! So I started pumping up and down on his thing and it got even bigger than it had been! Turned kinda purple around the edges and you could see all the veins standing out on it!"
"Well, this went on for a couple minutes and Hadley sounded like he couldn't breathe and his eyes rolled up in back of his head and then it happened!"
"What happened?" Rhonda asked, still playing devil's advocate.
"It shot white stuff out the end! Looked like yogurt, only it was runnier and more sticky. It landed all over my stomach and I made Hadley wipe it off with his handkerchief."
Rhonda was shaking with excitement by the time she got the hamburger and onions in the skillet and on the stove. Her knees were weak and her heart was fluttering and her pussy, naked under the white dress, had an aching need to be caressed and fondled.
"Did you cum?" she asked her friend.
"Yeah, uh ... I don't really know."
"You don't know! Didn't anything happen to you?"
"Well, something happened."
"What?"
"I just felt good . .. that's all. It just felt good and then Hadley shot his stuff all over me and it stopped."
"Did you feel like you wanted him to play with your pussy some more?"
"I... I guess so."
Rhonda gave her friend a stern glance. "Haven't you ever played with yourself?"
"NO! My mother told me a couple years ago I'd go crazy if I did!"
"Your mother lied," Rhonda said. Then, out of nowhere, came a wicked idea. She thought about it for a minute, knowing she shouldn't suggest it, but she just couldn't help herself.
"Sue," she began, "would you like me to teach you something?"
"Sure. I guess..."
"Okay then, let me turn this stove down."
Rhonda raked the hamburger and onions with a spatula and turned the heat down to low. Then she pulled a chair up right next to Sue's and said, "Okay now, we'll take off all our clothes."
"Rhonda! I don't believe you! Take off our ... clothes?"
"Sure! We're both girls. Can't hurt anything can it? I just want to teach you a couple things so you'll know what it's like to cum. Then the next time you're with a boy and making out, you'll at least know if you did or not!"
Sue didn't answer for a minute. When she did, she said, "Okay, but let's lock the door. I wouldn't want anyone to see us. Oh, and draw that curtain, too!"
Rhonda went to the front door and locked it. Then she pulled the curtain too, so that no one could see them from the driveway. Then she swiftly pulled the thin, short dress over her head and was naked.
"Your turn," she said.
Sue hesitated, but undid her halter top. Rhonda was amazed at the difference in her nipples and Sue's and wondered why she'd never noticed before. They'd seen each other naked in the shower at school but maybe she'd just never looked. Her nipples were perky and cone shaped and a strawberry color. Sue's were flat, round discs and as pink as her mother's Pinto.
Sue stepped out of her sandals and unsnapped the top of her cutoffs. She had to peel them off because they were so tight and when they came down, her polkadot bikini panties came with them. She sat down in the chair and Rhonda patted her on the shoulder.
"Now we're both naked. Does it feel good?" "God... I don't know. I feel like we're doing something wrong!"
"Oh, Sue! What could be wrong with learning about our bodies? I bet you don't even know the place to touch to make you cum!"
"Okay, show me ... on yourself." Rhonda was delighted with the fact that she could act so bold and knowledgeable when only that morning she had touched herself for the first time. Turning slightly toward her friend, she placed a newly experienced finger on each side of her pussy. Then she spread the hair-lined outer lips gently apart, revealing the slick-wet inner lips and the hooded protrusion of her swollen clit.
"It's right there," she said, touching the organ with the index finger of her free hand. The little bud gleamed with a tiny drop of clear liquid, and Rhonda reeled with pleasure.
Sue, very shy at first, awkwardly spread her innocent pussy lips apart and found her own clit. It was just like Rhonda's, except it was a lot bigger.
"Touch it," Rhonda urged. "Rub it a little. You'll like what happens!"
"RHONDA!" she gasped at her own touch. "That's just the same as... that's where Hadley touched me when we were down at that pond. And it feels ALMOST the same!"
"I'll bet it does! Did you know that it helps make the feeling stronger if you play with your nipples?" Rhonda demonstrated, rolling her perky red cones between thumb and forefinger. "Like this!"
As her excitement grew, Rhonda found herself staring with fascination at her friend's nakedness. Sue was really pretty with no clothes on and she had never really studied a naked member of her own sex before. Sue's arms were long and graceful and the front of her shoulders, where they curved down and out to the full roundness of her pink-tipped titties was beautiful. She thought about the boys she'd seen at the beach naked except for swim trunks and she didn't think they were as beautiful as girls were.
The pleasure she was giving herself with her hands was growing more intense all the time, but she found herself wondering if it wouldn't feel that much better if someone else was playing with her dripping pussy and rubbing her tingling titties.
"Sue ..." she started, feeling a complete lack of shyness. "Would you touch me? I want to see if it feels different."
"Touch you?" her friend gasped. "Where?"
"Anywhere! My pussy!"
"ME touch your pussy!? That's not right. I just KNOW it isn't!"
"Oh, Sue, don't be such a prude. What can it hurt? You've felt someone touching you before. I haven't. Please?"
"Okay, but just for a minute!" Very slowly, Sue reached over and graced her friend's pussy fur with the palm of her hand. Immediately, beads of sweat began to appear on her forehead. She felt the warmness of Rhonda's cunt and then spread the outer labia apart so she could find the frothing love button.
Rhonda thought she was going to explode! Just the thought of being touched by someone else had driven her crazy with desire and now Sue's fingers were rubbing in tiny little circles around her clit! The pleasure was overwhelming and when she looked at her friend she could tell Sue liked what she was doing.
"Don't stop," she panted. "Please don't stop!"
"Do me," Sue hissed, so stunned with new sensations that she could barely talk.
Rhonda closed her eyes and reached for her friend's body, burying one hand in the alluring hollowness between Sue's legs and finding the swollen hot titties with the other. She hunched her hips forward and back against the fingers that were so deliciously occupied with frigging her clit and swung her shoulders this way and that, feeling the weight of her titties pull and bounce.
Soon the two girls were moaning and writhing, sliding their asses around on the kitchen chairs that had become sticky and slick with love juice. Sue had liked Rhonda's hands on her breasts so much that she decided to give her friend the same feeling and the touch of titty flesh on her palms and fingertips only added to her pulsating pleasure.
Like watching a thunderstorm moving across the lake, Rhonda could see and feel her orgasm coming from a long distance, getting closer all the time and threatening to be devastating when it arrived. The intense electrical waves of passion pulsated like rays of light in the rain and the fingers that caused the sensation were dancing over her body now. Her clit was jerked and yanked and pulled and pushed and Sue was holding one of her titties like it was a softball instead of delicate flesh.
"Feel it happening?" she panted.
"God, YES!" Sue cried. "It's... OH, GOD! I'M CUMMING! I'm cumming! I'm, Jesus God, I'M CUMMMMMMMMING!"
Their bodies convulsed together and they found themselves in each other's arms, feeling hot and sweaty and exhausted and loving. It had been beautiful and now it was over, but they didn't want to let the closeness slip away so soon.
Rhonda felt her titties smashed against Sue's and her thighs against her friend's and her arms pulled the girl even tighter against her.
"Oh, shit!" Sue said, leaping to her feet. "A car door."
"My mom's home," Rhonda whispered. "Quick, get dressed!"
Sue pulled on her panties and stepped into her shorts while Rhonda simply let the white dress fall over her head. Slightly angry that there was much more for her to do to get dressed, she said, "Hey, you'd better unlock the front door for her."
"No," Rhonda said. "I keep it locked all the time. She won't be suspicious. But I'll wipe off the chair bottoms before she gets inside." She grinned at the redhead and Sue grinned back.
"You're so clever," Sue whispered. "I feel like kissing you, do you know that?"
Rhonda grabbed the dish towel and swabbed the seats. The key was clicking in the front door lock when she said, "No, as long as we don't kiss, we're not.. . you know ... queer!"
Chapter Four
Mary Stapleton sat quietly in John Elkins' car as they drove up the country road to Needmore. There were a couple of important things on her mind and she wanted to think about them. John made a few attempts at conversation, but she put him off each time.
She and John were on their way to visit a young couple who were having an orgy the following weekend. Ben and Sylvia were their names and they were from California. They had friends in Los Angeles who were making a film in Indiana and wanted to film an orgy scene. Ben and Sylvia had apparently agreed to throw a party and turn it into an orgy for the sake of the movie industry and a few thousand dollars. Anyone invited would receive a hundred dollars in cash if they helped act out the scene.
John knew Ben and Sylvia, and when they explained to him that they needed people who were attractive and liked to swing enough to do it on camera for a little money, he immediately thought of Mary Stapleton. The night before, he had given her the proposition over cocktails and Mary had said she wanted to meet the people who were doing this so she'd have some kind of feeling for them.
Mary felt weird about the idea of actually being in an orgy, even if it was nothing more than an acting job. There would still be fucking and she would probably be fucked two or three times by men she'd never seen in her life! Still, though, the idea was a little scary, she had damp panties just thinking about it. After all... an orgy!
She also felt strange about her daughter. When she'd come home from the rendezvous with John she'd come into the kitchen to find the air absolutely riddled with the smell of excited pussy. Sue and Rhonda were dashing around looking busy and redfaced and Mary had been angered. She didn't know where the anger was coming from, because she'd always considered herself a liberal and lenient parent where sex was concerned. After all, she'd let Rhonda buy that see-through bathing suit, knowing full well that every man who laid eyes on her in that outfit would have a hard-on for her.
Yet she was still angry and she hadn't been very nice to her daughter since the encounter. She suspected that Rhonda and Sue had been experimenting with each other and somehow the idea was appalling. Sex was for men and women and there hadn't been a man there at the time.
Looking out the window of the car, Mary decided she wasn't going to come to terms with herself or her anger on the way to talk to Ben and Sylvia.
"John," she said, reaching for his thigh and caressing it. "I'm just excited as hell about this thing."
Rhonda stepped out of the house when Bill Sommers wheeled his Triumph sports car into the driveway. She had worried all afternoon about what to wear, then finally settled on a grown-up looking linen pantsuit. Under the suit jacket she wore a jersey blouse with a deep throat and no bra. She watched the repairman climb out of his roadster as she clicked along the concrete in her high heeled pumps.
"You look really pretty," Sommers said, smiling and opening her door.
"You don't look bad yourself," she told him. And it was true. He wore a patchwork Levi's suit and a flowered cowboy shirt. Out of the work uniform, he was even more handsome than before. Rhonda licked her lips and settled into the bucket seat.
They left Orange Lake at a steady but not too fast clip and Sommers began talking about his life. Rhonda thought it was really strange for someone she didn't know to just start talking about himself like that but it sounded interesting and she listened politely. He was thirty-four years old and had been married once when he was in his twenties. He had two children, a girl and a boy, whom he hadn't seen in half a year. The man had become frustrated with school while working on his Master's degree, which she already knew, and now he was an electrician. He'd worked his way through the first four years of college as an electrician and he really didn't mind the work.
"Sounds like you've had an interesting life," she told him, feeling ill at ease with the conversation.
"What about you?" he asked. "Tell me about the places you've lived and what you like to do."
"I haven't lived many places," she admitted. "But I like to do all kinds of things. Like ride horses and listen to music and swim and go to the little theatre at school."
Sommers seemed to withdraw into himself and he concentrated on the road for several quiet minutes. When they reached Bloomington, he braked the car for a stoplight and said, "Now that we're in town, what you like to do?"
"The coffee house sounds good," she said cheerfully.
"Coffee house it is then," Sommers nodded. He drove to a aide street off Kirkwood and shut down the engine. He looked at Rhonda and there was something in his eyes she really couldn't figure out. They looked like they might tear up any moment but they looked kind too.
"Are we here?" she asked him, just to break the silence.
"Sure. I was just thinking that I don't even know your name."
"Rhonda," she told him. "Rhonda June."
"Well, Rhonda, let's go listen to some music."
The coffee house was dimly lit and Rhonda had trouble seeing while Sommers ushered her to a tiny table. He pulled her chair around so she could see the singer and then arranged his right next to hers. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she could make out the silhouettes of a few dozen people scattered around the large room. There was a small stage big enough to hold only three or four performers and an old black man sat in a chair on the stage.
Rhonda was quickly captivated by the music and stared transfixed while the black man played gutsy guitar and sang the blues. It seemed like she could feel the music vibrating in her body and the words were so strange. The words weren't that different from the rock and roll she listened to at home and at dances. Songs about being in love and being hurt by it. But somehow the mood was so different it made her feel weird.
Other things made her feel strange too. Like the fact that she hadn't even told her mother she was going out. It wouldn't really matter, because her mother had planned to spend the night with a couple friends and wouldn't be home until the next morning. Rhonda hadn't told her because she was mad at her. She didn't know why she was, but she just was.
The blues singer stopped playing and announced he was going to take a half-hour break.
"That's too bad," Sommers said. "I wanted to hear some more, but I don't want to wait here for a half hour."
"Well," Rhonda suggested. "If there's someplace else you'd like to go, we can go. If there's time later, maybe we can come back."
"Well put," Sommers told her, grinning. The waitress arrived and asked if they wanted to order, but the repairman told her they would be back later on.
Out in the car, Sommers told her he'd like for her to see hjs house. She said okay, though she didn't see why he wanted to show her a house.
It was only moments away and Rhonda soon found herself walking up the steps to an old frame house with glass on the front door that looked like it was cut from church windows. The living room was good-sized but no bigger than the one at home. It had an elaborate stereo system that took up most of one wall and the biggest speakers she'd ever seen.
"Wow!" she said. "That must sound really good!"
"Well try it out," Sommers said. "Have a seat..." he gestured toward the sofa. "Could I take your jacket?"
She was suddenly self-conscious, being in this man's house alone with him, being treated like a woman. She took off her jacket and gave it to him before she settled into the sofa.
"Do you like Poco?" he asked. "The group I mean?"
"Oh, yeah." Rhonda hadn't heard of them, but she thought better of saying so.
"If they're okay," he said, "I'll put them on."
"They're okay."
"Then what would you like to drink?"
Rhonda's mind reeled as she realized he was offering her a drink. Thinking fast, she remembered the wine she'd sipped with Don and asked if he had any wine.
Sommers nodded and began working on the stereo equipment. In a minute, he had a nice, mellow rock group sending music through the big speakers. After adjusting a few sensitive dials, he left the room and returned with a slender bottle of Cabernet Savignon and two sparkling glasses. He uncorked the bottle, poured a glass and handed it to Rhonda.
"This is good," she told him after taking a sip. "Glad you like it. Is the music loud enough for you?"
"Yeah, If it was any louder we couldn't hear each other talk."
"Something you'd like to talk about?" His eyes were fixed on hers for a minute but they slowly slipped down to take in the pointy protruberances of her nipples where the little buttons pressed against the thin jersey of her blouse.
Rhonda watched Sommer's eyes and knew full well what he was doing. She arched her back ever so slightly, increasing the jut of her firm young titties and providing her date with an even better eyeful.
"I'm not really in all that much of a talking mood," she told him. "Somehow, with the music and wine and all... it just seems like a quiet mood."
"I know what you mean."
Rhonda took a sip of wine and giggled at the look on the repairman's face.
"What's funny?"
"You!" she said. "Sometimes you get the strangest look ... I guess it's your eyes."
"What do they do?"
"Well, they're so brown anyway, and so deep-looking, and now and then they just get so far away... I guess I'm not doing a good job of explaining. What goes on in your mind when you're doing that?"
"Oh, just thinking. Right then I was thinking about you."
"Thinking what?"
"Thinking you're pretty."
Rhonda blushed heavily. It was a pretty direct compliment and it made her feel uncomfortable.
At the same time, she liked the idea of a handsome man in his thirties telling her, fifteen-year-old Rhonda that she was pretty.
"Where's your bathroom?" she asked, shyly.
"Right through that room" Sommers said, pointing.
She found the bathroom, turned on the light and closed the door. In the mirror, she could see her reflected twin and the girl that stared back at her with shoulder-length, light brown hair and sparkly eyes was pretty indeed. She turned from one side to another, figuring out which the prettiest side was and observing the way parts of her titties were exposed by the low slit front in the blouse.
Rhonda was excited from looking in the mirror and the excitement showed where her nipples touched cloth. She was also a little damp down between her legs and she felt like something big was about to happen. She had seen Sommers' desire before and she knew it could be raised again. But how? She didn't have on a short dress with no panties tonight. The linen slacks were very modest, even if they fit snugly and clung to every curve and indentation of her thighs and ass cheeks. But she couldn't show off her pussy without being awfully blatant about it and her titties just didn't seem to be enough.
"Oh, well," she sighed, still looking in the mirror.
Sommers was sitting on the sofa and when she returned to the room she sat down right next to him, brushing his left thigh with her right. She could feel the warmth of their two bodies even through the two layers of cloth and the excited, giddy feeling she'd felt so few times before was returning.
Then Sommers put his hand on the back of her neck, underneath her shiny hair. Rhonda shivered at his touch and started breathing a little faster. She turned her face toward him and suddenly his lips were touching hers.
She had been kissed before, but nothing like she was being kissed now. Sommer's tongue was deep in her mouth, tracing over her teeth and gums and the insides of her cheeks. His arms encircled her back, pulling her against him and she could feel her titties crushed by the firm hardness of his chest. His hands ran gently up and down the length of her back and when the fingertips grazed the waistband of her slacks she found herself wishing she didn't have them on, so his fingers could move lower.
Sommers stopped the kiss and pulled his face back a few inches. He looked at her and that same far away look came over his eyes. His hands came around from her back and gently caressed the tops of her shoulders. Then they eased down over her arms, thumbs extended just enough so that they feathered the sides of her anxious titties.
Rhonda gasped and closed her eyes. The strong but gentle hands continued their journey, caressing her arms and hands and sides and neck and finally coming to rest, hot and moist, with the palms of each one covering a throbbingly erect nipple.
"Your hands feel good," she whispered.
"So do your breasts," Sommers said. He bent forward and pulled the top of the blouse apart until enough of firm ivory mounds were exposed that he could kiss them. He brushed her flesh with his open lips, teasing her, making her sensitive young globes swell with desire. Then his tongue slithered out and touched her, tracing a spiralling circle around and around until it touched the sweet rosehip bud of a marble hard nipple.
Rhonda's breath went out in a shoosh and her heart began to race. Hot, wet lips sucked her nipple between them and Sommer's tongue flipped the bud back and forth in a fluttering motion. Her head swung back and forth, mouth open, delirious with pleasure. Her excitement kept growing and growing until she was in a completely strange and new reality and when that happened, Rhonda became frightened.
"Stop," she said, summoning all available self-control.
"Stop?" Sommers slowly withdrew his face from the front of her blouse, abandoning the sweet taste of firm, young titty. That far away look came into his eyes and his face was a mask of non-understanding.
"Please," Rhonda pleaded. "It's just too much for right now." Her breath ripped in and out of her lungs in jagged gasps.
"You're... you're a virgin, aren't you?" Sommers asked. "You're a cherry and you're scared."
Rhonda looked at him, looked at the soft lips that had made her feel so strange and decided there was no use lying to him. "Yes," she whispered. "I'm a virgin. And I'm scared."
"Jesus, baby," he said, smiling. "There's no need to be frightened. I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to. But believe me, there's a whole new world you've never discovered and now is as good a time as any to start exploring. How old are you ... really?"
"Fu-fu ... fifteen," Rhonda sputtered.
"Good God! Do you realize what the law could do to me for just having you here?"
"No." It had never occurred to her.
"Well, that's beside the point. I asked you out because I thought you had the hots for me. And I still think you do. That scene at your house with you strutting around in that little white sundress with nothing on underneat... I don't think that was just innocence. Was it?"
"No," Rhonda answered, feeling somehow more at ease. "No, I wanted to ... to excite you."
"And you sure did. And I'm excited now. I'd like to lay down with you and hold you and show you what it feels like to be loved."
"But I... I'm still afraid."
"Nothing to be afraid of. Any time you want to stop, just tell me. I'll stop and take you home and that'll be the end of it. Believe me?"
"Yes," she said, staring into the depths of his brown eyes. "I believe you."
"Then let's go into the bedroom." Sommers stood up and reached for Rhonda's hand. Blindly, she let him take it and followed him into the bedroom.
Rich blue drapes covered the wall behind Sommers' antique maple bed. All the furniture was maple and it was all old and Rhonda felt like she was taking a journey back in time. In some ways her date looked like a character from out of the past and she didn't feel like a fifteen-year-old high school girl from Orange Lake, Indiana.
"Let me undress you," Sommers said, slipping his fingers under the hem of her blouse.
Like an obedient child, Rhonda stuck her arms up in the air and stood quietly while the slippery jersey garment came up and over her head. Her titties fell free, perfect little half globes with precisely matched strawberry nipples.
Sommers bent down and kissed each hard bud and then worked his way up to her throat and chin and cheeks and ears and eyes and mouth. Rhonda felt her fear slip away and slid her tongue into Sommers's mouth, imitating his own kiss. She felt the ridges of his teeth with the tip of it and the inside of his mouth. His tongue moved against hers and her titties were crushed against his chest and she wanted to feel more of him.
"Take off your jacket and shirt," she told him, pulling her face away.
"You take them off," he said.
Slowly, inexperienced at undressing a man, she removed the jacket and the flowered cowboy shirt until Sommers was naked to the waist. His chest was broad and covered with curly blond hair. His shoulders and arms reminded her of the limbs of a pasture oak, strong and knotted with veins very close to the surface of his skin. There was a large mass of hair around his navel and the mass disappeared beneath the waistband of his Levis.
"What about our pants?" Sommers asked.
"I'll take yours off," she said. The belt buckle was hard to figure out but she finally managed and then unsnapped the waist. The zipper came down easily and the Levi's split open to reveal a pair of tan boxer shorts underneath. Carefully, she eased the jeans down over his hips and they fell to the floor. Inside the boxer shorts she could see the complete outline of a massively erect cock.
"Let's leave our underpants on," she shyly suggested.
"Anything you say." Sommers lifted his hard-muscled legs and stepped out of his jeans. Then he dropped to his knees in front of Rhonda and began kissing her soft, smooth belly. His hands went around to her back and he gently massaged the lower muscles before letting his fingertips graze the flared curves of her asscheeks.
"Oh ... God, you feel so good," Rhonda sighed.
Hearing her words, Sommers stopped kissing the delicate flesh and applied his attention to removing her slacks. There were two hooks that held the waistband together and he deftly unfastened them.
Then he eased the zipper down and pulled the pants over the gorgeous swell of her hips and ass. Rhonda's panties were whit, lacy bikini style and his eyes focused on the dark tangle of matted pussy hair that was visible through the semi-transparent material. The linen slacks dropped to the floor and he gently pressed his face against the jutting prominence of her mound.
"Oooooooo," Rhonda moaned. The next thing she knew she was lifted off her feet and carried to the antique bed. Sommers easily placed her on top of the blue velour bedspread as though she was a tiny child. They he lay down next to her and pulled her to him.
Their lips met and she could feel the giant hardness of his cock pressing against her belly. His body was hot and hard but somehow soft and smooth at the same time. His chest felt good against hers and his arms felt good around her back. She ran her hands up and down his spine and felt the layers of muscle under the thin skin.
Sommers' hands slipped inside her panties and molder her asscheeks as though he was kneading bread. He pulled them apart and pushed them back together and every sensation that she felt on her ass flesh seemed to race with the speed of light to the top of her pussy, where her throbbing clit waited anxiously to be touched.
The embrace ended and Sommers rolled Rhonda over so she was lying on her belly. He began kissing the back and sides of her neck and then started moving slowly downward, kissing each of her shoulder blades and the space between them. Farther down he found the dimples in her lower back and traced delicate patterns with his tongue on each indentation. The groove between her ass cheeks extended above the waist of her panties and he slid his tongue into the groove as though something delicious was in it.
Rhonda sighed and moaned with pleasure and anticipation. She felt her pelvis involuntarily thrusting against the bed, searching for more sensation. She felt the soft velour bedspread caressing her titties and belly and the fronts of her thighs. Her panties were slipped down partway and she could feel the searching tongue probing the dimples of her ass and she was almost shocked at the pleasure a man's tongue could provide.
Sommers pulled the panties back up and moved Rhonda onto her back. Her titties stuck straight up in the air and her legs were slightly parted, revealing a large and growing damp spot where the lacy material covered her quivering hole. Sommers slipped his fingers inside the front of her panties and through the tangled curls of fur. Rhonda arched her back and shoved her hips up, anxious for that first exhilarating rush of clitoral contact.
Yet his fingers seemed to touch everything in the world but her clit. He traced the perimeter of hair-lined outer lips and reveled in the slick juices that covered the inner labia. He found the tight, juicy band of flesh that ran from her vagina to her asshole and pressed gently against it. Then, keeping the pressure even on the fourchette, he burrowed his thumb between the soppy folds of flesh at the top of her pussy and finally found her swollen, aching clit.
Rhonda's whole body fell slack, then immediately tensed again. She knew it wouldn't take much to make her cum ... not in her present condition. It had only taken a couple minutes with her own fingers and it had happened faster when Sue was doing the work. And she was more excited now than she'd ever been in her life and Sommers had just that very minute touched the magic button.
While he rubbed around and around on her pulsating clit, Sommers bent his neck enough to bring a perky red nipple within sucking distance. He pulled the hard flesh between his lips and sucked hard. Rhonda cried out in joy and began wildly pumping her cunt against his hand. She had never known the human body was so well designed for moving hips up and down, but she knew it now and she was making the most of it. The more she moved, the faster she thrust her pussy against the man's thumb, the closer she came to cumming.
Slowly, the realization dawned on her that Sommers was giving her all the pleasure and she was giving him none. Maybe he took great pleasure in playing with her pussy and sucking her titties ... she really didn't know. But trying to be an equal partner, she reached between their bodies and touched his stomach just above the waistband of his boxer shorts.
"No," he said, softly, a juicy glistening nipple resting against his cheek. "The first time I want you to feel me is inside your cunt."
Rhonda was taken back. Don had been so desperate for her to touch his cock and this man didn't want her to at all. Maybe he was just different. Maybe it was because he was a grown man, not an adolescent schoolboy. Maybe... she couldn't concentrate any longer. On anything.
The waves of orgasm were moving closer to shore now. Her entire body thrashed around on the bed. The finger that had been pressed against her fourchette was now at the rosebud mouth of her asshole, not yet inside but pressing in that direction. The thumb rubbing her clit felt like some kind of wild animal that had a mind and a rhythm all it's own. A hot, wet mouth sucked hard on the nipple of her right titty and unseen fingers worked on the strawberry tip of her left. She was going to explode any minute and the warning tremors of the earthquake to come were already tingling in her thighs and belly.
"Oh!" she cried. "Oh ... OH!"
She was still humping her pussy up into the air when she realized that there was no longer a hand down there. Nor was there a mouth on her titty or anything anywhere. Bill Sommers was sitting on his heels next to her, watching her with those detached brown eyes.
"Would you like me to take off your panties now?" he asked her, smiling.
"Anything!" she gasped. "ANYTHING, but please make me CUM!"
Swiftly, Sommers grasped the elastic band and pulled the panties down to reveal a rich forest of golden blond pussy hair. He slid the garment off her feet and cast it aside before burrowing his nose in her muff. The sweet scents of hot virginal pussy wafted into his nostrils and he flicked out his tongue to touch her frothing love button. He licked it for a few seconds, just long enough to feel her thrusting her cunt against his face. Then he leaned over on his side and quickly removed his boxer shorts.
Rhonda's eyes grew wide at the sight of a fully erect adult male organ. It seemed to be about the size of a flashlight, only longer. The tip was swollen and flared like the knob on a gear shift. There was a purplish hue at the base of the head and blue veins stood out all along the throbbing shaft. At the bottom, an immense mass of tangled hair billowed out over and around the sac that contained his balls and the skin reminded her of chicken skin, only it was very hairy.
She wanted to touch it, to feel it and play with it. Sommers had seemed to enjoy putting his mouth on her pussy and she thought maybe a cock would taste good. She tried to imagine the taste ... would it be salty or sweet? In the midst of her thoughts, the man lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms.
She could feel his naked cock against her now, his balls just below the opening of her pussy and the pulsating head pressed between their bellies. With a newfound skill, she managed to thrust her dripping mound up high enough so that her cuntal groove opened around his shaft. She slid up and down on it, smearing Sommers' cock with hot, slippery juices.
Sommers kissed her face and eyes and nose and finally thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth. She rewarded him with her own tongue and her arms were around his shoulders, pulling him tight against her. Without noticeable effort, he moved his body slightly and Rhonda found herself laying on top of him.
"Sit up on me," he instructed her.
Surprised, Rhonda sat up. She put a foot on each side of his narrow hips and lowered her bottom until her pussy was spread wide over the roundness of his shaft. She slid back and forth a few experimental times, then looked into his eyes.
"Take it in your hand," he said. "Guide it into your pussy. You do all the work, and that way if it hurts, you can stop."
Rhonda grasped the throbbing pole delicately, as though she might hurt it. But when his man-flesh was heavy in her hand, she realized a cock was no feeble, defenseless organ when it was swollen with excitement. It felt like Sue said Hadley's felt... hard as a rock and yet silky smooth. Carefully, she raised the organ up and placed the head against the quivering lips of her desperately anxious pussy.
It felt like heaven immediately and it wasn't even inside! Sommers' cockhead was hot and throbbing and her pussy was like a steamy volcano and she wanted to feel more heat, more sensation. Very slowly, she pressed her weight down and felt her cuntal lips stretch to accommodate the new and exciting intruder. She remembered the one time anything had ever been shoved inside her, the time her mother's gynecologist had inserted a rubber-gloved, well oiled finger just to make sure everything was there. But this was different. Sommers' cock was the size of four doctor's fingers taped together and she knew a lot of stretching would have to take place before she could take it all the way into her yearning hole. She pressed a little harder and heard a sucking noise as the twitching knob of cockhead sank inside her pussy.
A little more and an inch of the shaft was inside. The pressure was fantastic but it hurt just a little. Her knees were trembling and she was afraid she might lose control and impale herself all in one falling motion.
"I don't know if I can ..." she cried.
"Sure you can. The worst is really over."
Rhonda nodded and gritted her teeth before lowering herself slowly but steadily all the way down over his cock. She felt the tip of it rearranging all her female organs and felt the hardness of his pelvic bone pressing against her clit. A rush of flooding warmth came over her body and she moaned with pleasure. She'd done it! She'd taken away her own virginity and it didn't even hurt enough to complain about!
With great difficulty, she used her legs as levers to pick her bottom up off of Sommers' thighs. She felt the swell of cockhead against the clasping tightness of her vaginal walls and felt her clit being pulled downward as she moved upward.
"Jesus, you've got a nice pussy!" Sommers said, smiling. "I've never felt one so tight and hot before! Move up and down slow and steady and it'll feel good!"
Rhonda found her rhythm and began fucking him. She discovered that it felt better if she put a little twist into the downward motion and the look on Sommers' face told her he liked what she was doing, too. Up and down she went, feeling new strength in her legs and back and buttocks. Sommers closed his eyes and blindly reached out to grasp both her nipples between thumbs and forefingers. He rolled them first one way, and then another, and Rhonda's mouth fell open with delight.
"Oh, Bill!" she sobbed, rocking faster and faster until her body and mind were completely consumed with the magical feeling of fucking and being fucked. When her cunt smacked against the man's pelvic bone it made a slapping noise and the sounds and odors of fucking made it even more exciting.
Still rocking back and forth, she felt the imminent throes of orgasm building past the point of return. More and more motion came out of her body until her arms and legs and stomach and titties and head were all a writhing mass of sexual fire.
"Bill..." she choked out. "Oh, God ... Bill! I'M GONNA CUM! I'm gonna cum real soooo ..."
"Cum baby! Cum, and I'll cum WITH you!"
"Oh, God, it's gonna happen! NOOOWWWWW!"
Rhonda's body twitched and convulsed and she felt white hot flashes of energy rippling through her insides. The muscles of her pussy pulsated and contracted, making the feeling even more intense.
Finally she stopped humping up and down on Sommers' cock and she felt his seed spurting in gush after fiery gush way up inside her channel.
Instinctively, she squeezed herself around his shaft and delicately milked him until the sticky sperm stopped flowing.
Then she fell forward, her body against his, her face next to his face. Her heart was fluttering like a bird caught in a trap and she could feel his beating inside his chest. She was so happy she felt like the end of the world had come and she was up in heaven among the angels. But in her heart she knew it was really the beginning of something, not the end of anything.
"Did you like your first time?" Sommers asked her when he had regained his breath.
"Like it?" she panted. "I LOVED it!"
"Enough to do it again?"
"Right now?" she grinned, a lewd but innocent grin.
"No, baby, not right now. But soon."
Chapter Five
Mary Stapleton was seated in a dark living room with John and Ben and Sylvia. When the light came on, it was a high intensity bulb that flashed on a large movie screen. The movie started with some beautiful western scenery, with mountains in the background and a road through the desert in the foreground. An old hotrod roadster came into view and as it moved down the road toward the mountains, the camera zoomed in for a view of the car's occupants.
The driver was a boy who looked to be about sixteen. He had dark curly hair and was wearing a black T-shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve. The girl had long, long blonde hair that streamed out behind her as they motored down the road. She was very pretty and didn't look as old as Rhonda. She was wearing a 1950s sytle high school letter sweater and Mary Stapleton suspected she would have on a knee length skirt and bobby sox.
The car slowly pulled off the main road onto a smaller dirt lane. Close up now, Mary watched the boy pull out a whiskey flask and drink out of it before handing it to the blonde girl. The boy turned off the dirt lane into a little flat area where a few salt-cedar trees grew.
With the car stopped, he took another drink of whiskey and the camera zoomed in close enough to really pick up on the actor's features. The boy looked very young and the girl was just a child. The couple talked for a minute but the words couldn't be heard as there was no sound to the film.
The boy leaned over and kissed the girl very passionately and the camera focused on his hand sliding up underneath her plaid skirt. The skirt hem came along with the hand and the girl's slender thighs were revealed. Then the boy's hand disappeared under the skirt and started moving around the area where the girl's pussy would be.
The camera came in close on every detail of the two adolescents undressing each other. The girl's panties came down and off and then the skirt was unzipped and down around her knees. She took the boy's cock out of his pants and began rubbing it with both hands.
Mary was a little repulsed by the sight of two children playing with each other's sexual organs but as she settled into the eight millimeter film she began to feel herself heating up. When both kids were completely undressed, she found she couldn't keep her eyes off the boy's adolescent cock. And the girl was so young that her breasts were still tiny and there was only. a sprinkle of golden- yellow hair sprouting around her pussy.
John Elkins was a little less reserved in his excitement. She reached over and traced the tops of her fingernails over the length of his swollen cock. Even under his knit slacks it felt hot and twitchy to her touch.
The kids got out of the car and the girl sat spraddle-legged on the front fender. The camera zoomed in on her nearly hairless twat and Mary heard John choke down a gasp. The boy on screen started eating the girl's pussy and the camera caught every detail of tongue against clit. The boy's cock was fully erect now and amazingly long. He took his member in hand and began to pump it up and down while he lapped and sucked the girl's barely-haired cunt.
"Shit, this is good," John wheezed. And it was good, Mary realized. The color was good and the camera work was fantastic. She'd only seen a handful of pornographic films in her life but they were usually very primitive and poorly done. This one had her excited enough that she slyly slipped a hand under her short dress and inside her panties. She spread her thighs slightly and began massaging her marble-sized clit.
She knew Ben and Sylvia wouldn't be shocked or surprised if they noticed what she was doing. They were swappers and were probably playing the movie hoping to get everyone turned on enough to have a small, private orgy of their own.
When the young boy finally stood up and stabbed his spear like cock into the girl's cunt, Mary felt a very small orgasm shoot through her body. Nothing big, just the kind of thing she would expect on seeing an adolescent girl being impaled by her male counter- part.
Unfortunately, the movie started going downhill at that point and the boy madly humped his companion for a few seconds before quickly withdrawing his ravaging cock and shooting spurt after spurt of cum all over the girl's stomach.
Ben turned the projector off and the lights on and returned to his seat in a wing-backed chair. Mary had discreetly removed her hand from her pussy but she noticed that both John and Ben had giant erections under their pants. Sylvia, a voluptuous redhead in her early twenties, was sitting stock still but her blouse had been unbuttoned down to the waist. She smiled at Mary, showing even, white teeth.
"You guys like that one?" Ben asked his guests.
"Sure," Mary said, looking at him. He was a thin man with a sensitive face and blue eyes and slightly long but balding blond hair. As she looked at him, she made up her mind on the spot that she wouldn't mind fucking him. In fact, she decided, looking at the bulge in his trousers, it would be a pleasure.
Everyone was game, she knew that. They'd talked about the orgy and about how people didn't have to actually fuck for the cameras but that quite a few people would, themselves included. Ben had explained that he and Sylvia had been swinging for five years and that they didn't feel life would be worth living if they couldn't fuck whomever they pleased whenever they pleased.
Mary figured she might as well get on with it if they were going to bother at all. Without hesitation, she slipped out of her blouse and dropped her skirt. Clad in nothing but a pair of smoky, transparent bikini panties, she walked over and sat down in Ben's lap.
Rhonda gave her new boyfriend a long, soulfull kiss before getting out of his sports car and walking to the front door of the house. She sighed happily at the fact that her mother's car was not in the driveway. Inside, she went to the kitchen and looked at the clock. It was only one-thirty in the morning.
She was happy and tired and madly in love with Bill Sommers. They had fucked four more times and each one was better than the last. She'd learned how to fuck dog style, missionary style, standing up, and sitting on Bill's lap while he sat on a chair.
Her pussy was sore as a boil, but she didn't regret a minute of her evening and would gladly fuck again before going to bed. But that was out of the question. Bill was on his way home and she was in her mother's house and somehow the two pieces of information just didn't fit together. It saddened her that she couldn't spend the entire night with him, sleep with him, but that was an impossibility, too.
Rhonda was only fifteen and for three more years she would have to be an obedient child. She didn't know quite how she was going to work out her desire to be fucked regularly but she knew she'd do it somehow. Having finally discovered sex, she was addicted to it. There was no other way in the world to feel that kind of pleasure and she wasn't at all willing to give it up.
In the bathroom, she stripped off her clothes and ran a tub full of water. Somehow a long soak seemed better than a brief shower and she poured some bath oil in the water. When it was full enough, she lowered herself into the tub and felt the hot water swirling around her body, caressing it. Lying down, relaxing, she reached between her legs with both hands and cupped her crotch lovingly.
Four days ago she hadn't even known the world of sex existed. Now she felt like a veteran. She could hardly wait to tell Sue about her adventures and watch her friend nearly die of envy.
The front door opened and closed and shattered her train of thought. "Mother?" she called out. No answer. She thought it might have been the wind, but there were quiet footsteps sounding in from the living room. Then they were louder when they clicked across the kitchen tile. In the hallway they were back on the wall-to-wall carpet and didn't make as much noise.
"Mother?" Rhonda cried, her heart thumping in her chest. "Is that you?" Then just as her last word echoed through the bathroom, the lights went out. Rhonda couldn't see a light anywhere, no reflections from the kitchen or living room or hallway. She remembered turning on a light in each of those rooms and now the house was in total darkness. Whoever was in the house had probably cut off the power at the fuse box. She thought about screaming for help, but no one would hear. She could get out of the tub and make a mad dash for the front door but if she made it that far she'd find herself out in the dead of night, stark naked and unable to awaken the neighbors.
There was always a chance that whoever jt was didn't know she was in the bathroom. No, she chided herself for being so stupid. Any fool would have heard her calling for her mother and that fool had walked down the hallway right past the half-closed bathroom door while she was calling. Realizing this, she felt incapable of producing another plan. There was nothing to do except sit quitely in the water and wait.
"Stand up!" an angry voice hissed. "Get out of the tub.'.
"Who are you?" Rhonda demanded.
"Get out of the tub or I'll drown you in it!"
Trembling violently, Rhonda stood up and stepped out of the tub. She couldn't place the hissing voice at all. The Only thing she knew for sure was that it belonged to a man. And she was alone and naked and scared to death!
"Turn around!" the hissing continued. "Face the tub. Now bend over and hold onto the side with moth hands!"
Rhonda quickly did as she was told. For all she knew the madman might really kill her. The only way out of this was to do exactly what he told her to do. And Rhonda intended to follow his instructions to the letter.
She heard him tell her to close her eyes tight and not open them until he said okay. She closed them and listened. The medicine cabinet opened and closed. There was a noise like someone had set a glass down on the sink top with a little force. Then she heard a lid being unscrewed from a jar or can. A zipper zipped in the darkness and the jar rattled around on the sink top. When she felt something hot and wet on the lips of her pussy, she cried out. "Please! Please, don't! Oh, my God!"
"Shut up!" the man growled.
Rhonda didn't speak and within seconds, there was a cock thrust up he pussy and a hairy pelvis shoved hard against her ass. It didn't feel at all the way it had when it was Bill's cock. It felt cold and impersonal and she didn't like it. But there wasn't a thing she could do about her displeasure.
She kept stock still while the man pulled his cock almost all the way out of her violated hole and slammed it in to the hilt. The man was strong and his thrusting almost knocked her headlong into the tile wall behind the tub. She was being raped by a man who hadn't even touched her before and the amazing thing was that it didn't really hurt. It was frightening, but only because she was afraid and the man might kill her after he raped her. If all he was going to do was pump in and out of her pussy until he came ... she could put up with that.
The man continued to ease way back and then jackhammer into her pussy. She could hear the raspiness of his breath and she thought, thank God it'll be over soon. She was still sore from fucking
Bill and having her pussy stretched for the first time and it didn't feel all that good to have a cock reaming in and out of it... a cock she didn't care anything about.
Where it had been sore, it started to itch. Rhonda worried a little about that and wished the man woul hurry up and shoot his load. Only he didn't seem to be in any hurry and the itching got worse. She wanted to scratch it, but if she'd let loose of the tub for a minute she'd be knocked unconscious against the tile wall. She just hung in there getting fucked from behind by a stranger, until the itching started to change. It kind of tickled and itched for a minute, and then it just tickled. When the tickling stopped, Rhonda found herself humping her ass backwards to meet the rapist thrust for thrust.
The rapist started laughing while he fucked and he increased the tempo of his slamming in and out of Rhonda's excited pussy. He started fucking so fast she couldn't keep up with him and had to simply hang onto the tub and keep from falling over. The man was sucking in great lungfuls of air by now and he sounded so breathless Rhonda was afraid he might have a heart attack.
Then, without any warning, the fucking stopped. The breathing slowed a little, but it was still ragged. She felt the guilty cock slide out and heard a little plopping noise when the head of it escaped the clasping grip of her vagina.
"Don't move," hissed the rapist.
She heard the zipper sound again, mixed with irregular and rapid breathing. She was so dizzy she could hardly have moved if she wanted to. And she didn't want to. She wanted to just stand there bent over with her naked ass in the air until the man went away.
"Don't move for five minutes or I'll come back and kill you!" This was the last she heard from the man except the sound of his footsteps and the closing of the front door.
When the door closed, she dropped to her knees on the bathroom carpet and began to cry. Rhonda didn't know why she was crying, but there was something wrong with her in the pit of her stomach and she only knew she had to cry.
Mary Stapleton was on her way back to Bloomington with John when she heard someone crying in the car. She took a quick look at her escort and noticed he was not the offender. Of course, he had little reason to cry having just finished fucking Sylvia three times and Mary twice. But someone was crying and it was right there in the car!
"Do you hear anything?" she asked John. "Wha'sis," John muttered. "Huh? You talking to me?"
"Yes. Did you hear anything?"
"What, something wrong with the car?"
"No, not the car. I thought I heard someone crying------"
"I didn't hear anything." John returned his total attention on the task of wheeling a death-dealing machine down a country road at three in the morning with a painfully sore cock and a stomach full of alcohol.
Mary was a little fuzzy-headed from the wine she'd consumed during the evening, but she was clear enough that the crying worried her. What worried her most about it, even though it had stopped, was that the voice had sounded vaguely like her daughter's.
She'd read about such phenomena as hearing the voice of someone close to you when that person is in distress and she'd even heard her own mother calling her name just before the old lady had passed on from lung cancer. The crying had the same kind of haunting eeriness to it, like something that was real but really wasn't.
No matter what she thought about the strange event, there wasn't anything she could do about it except become involved in a paranoid fantasy about the cause. She felt herself doing this and tried to cut it off short. If there was something wrong with Rhonda, she'd know soon enough. If there wasn't, she'd know just as quickly that there was nothing to worry about.
The endless narrow blacktop meandered through patches of early morning ground fog and stretches of bright starry Indiana night. There were bullfrogs croaking in the ponds and whipoorwills appeared on the road with their eyes glowing red in the headlights. Mary looked over at John's profile and reflected on the evening's events.
Ben had been a good fuck, no doubt about it. While John and Sylvia were going at it, she had let herself be fucked between the tits, in the mouth, in the pussy and in the ass. Each time she'd somehow managed more than one orgasm and at the moment she felt like she wouldn't care if she didn't see another cock for a week. Her cuntlips were swollen from sustained excitement and the friction of having an above average-sized cock jabbing in and out of them. Her clit was sore from when Ben had exuberantly nearly bitten it off and he had sucked her tongue so far inside his hungry mouth that the muscles that held the organ down felt like they'd been torn loose. Her nipples were still straining and erect from all the attention they had received and she could feel them pushing against the material of her dress when she moved.
John had been the same old John she'd always known. He knew all the right moves, knew all the right places to kiss and touch and suckle. But somehow he lacked the zest or zeal that made a really good lover. It wasn't lust he was lacking. Mary knew he loved to fuck more than anything in the world, but after fucking him, even though she always came, there was invariably an empty feeling inside, like some part of her need simply hadn't been satisfied. She grinned inwardly with the satisfaction that she had insisted on fucking Ben the last time of the evening. Ben just wasn't at all like John.
Finally the lights of Bloomington brightened up the sky and the sense of concerned anxiety quickly returned to Mary. Before they were inside the city limits, she put a hand on John's knee.
"Hey," she said. "Let's take the cutoff over to the lake. I just want to make sure everything is all right before we go to your place."
John gave her a glance that said, "I don't want to, but have it your way, lady." Mary shrugged it off and sat in silence while he turned left on a narrow land that was flanked on either side by pasture. She watched the fence posts coming up and saw the speed limit signs and heaved a sigh of relief when Lake Orange came into view with it's lights twinkling from the distant shore.
They turned off past the Port Hole Inn and within seconds were parked in Mary's driveway. She took her keys out of her purse and raced up to the front door. Before she tried the key, she twisted the knob and the door came open. That was odd: Rhonda always locked the door at night, sometimes even during the day.
In the doorway, she stood perfectly still, listening for she knew not what. Just a clue, maybe, just some little thing that would make her feel everything was all right. The sound of her daughter snoring. The buzz of the radio she'd forgotten to turn off before falling asleep. Anything. But there was nothing. Only silence.
Mary flicked on the living room light switch but nothing happened. The switch made a noise, kind of a popping sound, but it didn't sound like an electrical short. John had a flashlight in his car and she was just starting to go out for it when she heard a wretched sobbing voice. "Mother! Oh God ... mother." "Rhonda! What's wrong? What's happened?" Mary raced through the darkness until she found her little girl, naked and trembling. She threw her arms around Rhonda and held her close while the girl began crying hysterically. She held her a long time, knowing that talking was useless at this point. Something terrible had happened and she'd have to wait until her daughter was in control of herself to even find out.
"What the hell... ?" John mumbled, appearing in the doorway with his back to the street light.
"Go get the flashlight!" Mary shouted at him, even though it wasn't necessary. "Get the flashlight and see what's wrong with this damned electricity!"
"Sure, baby," John said over his shoulder as he took off at a trot. The way she'd shouted at him, it didn't sound like she wanted him to take his time.
He came back in with the light and the first thing the intense beam settled on was the most beautiful ass he'd ever seen in his life. There wasn't anything covering it, either, and he stopped dead in his tracks for a minute until Mary told him to get a move one. Just as he brushed past the woman and her naked daughter, Rhonda spoke.
"It's ... the main switch," she choked out. "He turned it off in the ... in the laundry .. . room."
Mary watched John's flashlight bouncing down the hallway and asked, "He whoV
"I.. . don?t know," the girl sobbed. Her body tensed for a moment and was still. Then when she started ta speak it began shaking again. "He ... he raped me!"
"No! NO!" Mary yelled, clutching her daughter that much tighter. "OH, MY GOD, NO! You poor baby, let's get you right into bed. Your skin feels like ice!"
The lights came on in a blinding flash and John leaped into the hallway just in time to catch a frontal glimpse of the naked girl being led into her bedroom by Mary.
"John, call the police," the woman told him.
"Right away, baby," John replied.
Mary got her daughter into a nightgown and a robe and under the covers. Then she pushed the damp wisps of hair away from Rhonda's forehead and said, "I want you to calm down and tell me all about it."
Bill Sommers hadn't been able to go to sleep all night. He'd tried listening to slow, soft music and that didn't work. Warm milk and toast hadn't done the trick either and even an hour in bed with Reader's Digest didn't bring the sheep leaping over the fence of unconsciousness. He glanced at the clock and saw it was nearly four in the morning. He knew he wouldn't be able to work the next morning unless he could push some kind of magic sleep button and even then, he'd be a little on the groggy side.
There were two drugs that immediately came to mind, now that he was becoming desperate. One was a bottle of sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet. The other was an unopened fifth of Wild
Turkey and the more he thought about it the more he leaned toward sipping... no, gulping down some whiskey.
Naked, his cock swinging back and forth like a clock pendulum, he strode into the kitchen and poured half a water glass of hundred-and-one-proof bourbon. Grinning, he examined the contents of the glass and decided if that didn't put him to sleep, he just must not be tired.
Back in bed though, he realized it wasn't a case of not being tired. It was a case of extensive excitement and he didn't know just what to do about it. To find himself, at his age, in the position to take a fifteen-year-old's cherry was unbelievable. And not only had he penetrated that sweet, virginal pussy with no more than a minimum of blood and the slightest of protests, he'd kept the door open for a second encounter and a third and maybe... his prick was hard as a rock just thinking about the possibilities.
He belted down .a slug of potent whiskey and felt the liquid burning all the way down his esophagus and into his stomach. The shock made him tremble a little but his erection didn't waiver the least bit. He patted the throbbing organ and closed his eyes, recreating the picture of the naked young girl spread-eagled on his bed, pussy lips spread wide and perky little titties standing straight up in the air like inverted snowcones.
A twinge of conscience ripped through his brain and he opened his eyes. The situation was not without its dangers and pitfalls. He could remember something a lusty friend of his had said when they were landing at the airport in Indianapolis, flying over suburb after suburb of modern frame and brick houses. The friend had told him everyone of those houses had a daughter living in it and maybe three-fourths of them were fuckable and available.
Carried a step further, every one of those daughters had parents. Some of them had fathers who were gun happy and mothers who could swing a mean rolling pin. Some had brothers with brass knuckles and zip guns and there wasn't any way around the fact that his relationship with Rhonda had a better than average chance of ending in disaster.
The girl's father was out of the picture but she still had a mother and there was always the law.
Bill grinned again, thinking they'd hang his ass if it ever came out that he was fucking a fifteen-year-old chick. Stupid damned law indeed. He didn't believe in butchering, but if they were old enough to bleed, they were sure as hell old enough to have a gentle, experienced cock plunged up inside their pussies.
Rhonda, for instance, was perfectly capable of handling the emotional problems that would come when she realized she'd really been pronged. She had her Victorian hangups, but then Bill had never known anyone who didn't, including himselbeen pronged. She had her Victorian hangups, but then Bill had never known anyone who didn't, including himself! The hangups were always there, it was just a matter of dealing with them. And Rhonda had dealt just fine. She would wake up the next morning in her sweet smelling young bed and remember something beautiful had happened the night before.
He wanted to see her again and couldn't lie to himself about that. But on the other hand, it might be better to just let it slide, let the girl forget him, and move on to new pastures. That way he wouldn't have to worry about the repercussions of statutory rape or the possibility of an irate mother putting a skillet alongside his pretty blond head. But his cock still felt like a phallic- shaped piece of hot granite, and he knew that given the opportunity he'd shove it up a nun's ass at midnight mass, much less the anxious, innocent pussy of a teenaged girl.
Bill took another swig of whiskey and wondered just what had gone on in the girl's mind while she was deflowering herself on his rod. She'd looked pleased every step of the way, like a kitten just learning about catnip. There just wasn't any way, though, for him to get inside the girl's head. He could only speculate and watch for reactions and try to interpret them the best he could.
He could sure as hell remember the first time he'd been laid. He leaned back against the pillow and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift back more than twenty years to when he was twelve and a half. His uncle's farm, down in Jackson County, was as fresh in his memory as though he'd been there last week. He couldn't remember his uncle very well, but he could remember his aunt, a plump, jolly lady with black hair and a daughter named ... Jenny.
Jenny was thirty years old at the time and she didn't live on the farm any more. She lived out in California somewhere near Los Angeles, Bill racked his brain and remembered that she taught art at one of the state colleges. A thirty-year-old art teacher with wild ideas from the West Coast and a body that was more than capable of demonstrating the hows and whys of those ideas. Without any trouble at all, he could remember every curve and protrusion of that exciting body. Every mole and hair and dimple was clearly etched in the recesses of his mind.
She had come to the farm for a couple of weeks to get away from the mad house she said California was turning into. The farm was where she'd grown up and an only child, she'd one day inherit all four hundred acres of it. She always said she felt at home there and wanted to be there when she was old and thinking about death.
Bill, at age twelve, thought Jenny was the most fantastic thing to come along since crackerjacks. She came to the breakfast table wearing nightgowns that were transparent with the morning sun for a background and in the afternoon she would lay on a blanket in the yard with a two-piece bathing suit on and have him undo the halter and rub lotion all over her naked back.
She would go horseback riding with him, take him for a long walks in the woods and talk about anything in the world he felt like talking about. He could remember trips to Louisville with Jenny, riding in her Packard convertible with the top down and her long red hair streaming out the back like erotic flames out of a sexual blow torch. That summer was the first time Bill had ever fallen hopelessly in love and he remembered how much it hurt when Jenny wanted to be alone.
One morning he remembered her appearing at breakfast completely dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a denim workshirt and wearing a pair of hiking boots. His heart raced at the sight because he knew it meant she wanted to go into the woods with him. But when she saw the excited look on his face, she told him straight out that she needed to be alone to do some thingking.
Bill had watched her disappear into the junglelike growth at the edge of the lower pasture and the tears had rolled down his cheeks. His lover had abandoned him and though he was old enough to know she wasn't really his lover, the separation was still painful. He'd gone up to his room and pouted, then found himself fearing the inevitable end of Jenny's vacation when she would climb behind the wheel of the Packard and disappear into the sunset forever. That would happen in less than a week and the realization made him sick to his stomach.
At noon, his aunt called him down for dinner, but he wasn't hungry. He went out and sat on the porch swing but it was so hot he could barely stand it. An idea hit him and he raced back into the house and up to his room. Finding a pair of shorts, he stripped down and put them on, then stuck his feet back into the shoes he'd been wearing all morning. Downstairs he told his aunt he was going swimming in the pond.
"Now you watch out for snakes!" he'd heard her say as he dashed out the front door of the farmhouse.
He knew his aunt and uncle thought he always swam in the pond in the middle of the upper pasture but he almost never swam there. It was always too hot because there were no trees around the water. The pond he usually chose was on the farthest corner of the woods in a clearing.
The pond boasted considerable wildlife in the way of birds and frogs and he'd even seen a buck deer stop once for water. There was also a book he'd stolen from his uncle's secret collection, wrapped in tin foil and hidden under the leaves. The book had pictures of women doing things to each other, and though Bill didn't know at that time what the women were doing or why they would want to do it to each other, he sure knew that looking at the pictures made his little prick grow into a man-sized cylinder of meat.
Sometimes he'd spend hours sitting by the pond, going through the book and pulling on his swollen cock until it spurted some kind of sticky white juice out the end. He didn't know what the white stuff was because he hadn't been able to talk to any of his friends back in Bloomington. He'd only learned the art of jacking off that summer and he knew it wasn't the kind of thing he could talk about to his aunt and uncle.
When Jenny came to the farm, he had abruptly halted his experiments. Initially, he'd been scared to death she would catch him at it. His aunt and uncle never set foot out of the house in the heat of the day, but Jenny liked to walk around the farm and Bill knew it. Also, as he found himself liking her more and more and felt the crunch of his first crush on an older woman, beating his meat just didn't feel all that good.
Today, however, he was hurt and a little mad at his cousin, and he intended to go out to the pond, take off his shorts and jack himself into oblivion.
"To hell with her," he remembered saying out in the woods. "To hell with everything."
Yet a strange feeling came over him as he followed the path to his pond. His breathing didn't seem right and he had a peculiar ache in the muscles of his back and legs. He didn't want to stop, though, until he reached sanctuary, so he pushed on through the woods. When he finally came into the clearing, he swallowed hard and then couldn't swallow at all.
There was a woman on the rock he had always used to dive off into the deepest part of the pond. The woman was more graceful than any calendar model he'd ever seen. She had a slender waist and nicely flared hips and titties that drooped slightly but turned upward at the reddish brown tips. When his eyes focused on the flaming red thatch of hair that sprouted at the juncture of her thighs, he immediately looked up at the hair on her head. It was just as red as down below, and Bill knew that the woman was Jenny.
She dove into the water, slicing through it with hardly a splash, and Bill advanced his position. He knew she hadn't seen him and though he was afraid she wouldn't like being spied on, he couldn't help himself. He had to get a better look at a real woman with no clothes on. His cock had tented out the front of his shorts and it ached so bad he thought he might die. But hehind an old oak not twenty feet from the diving rock, he caught his breath and bore the pain in silence.
His hand was in the front of his shorts when she emerged from the water and started back toward the rock. Her red hair was dripping wet now and water ran in rivulets down over her breasts and belly and legs. Bill pumped his cock slowly, hoping to not make any noise. She turned her back to him and he could see her naked ass so clearly he thought he might reach out and touch it Then, just as she reached the rock and stepped back up onto it, he sneezed.
It wasn't a real loud sneeze, because he used every muscle in his body to stifle the noise. But it was audible, and Jenny heard it.
"Who's there?" she asked, angrily.
There was no way out. "Me," he said, moving from behind the tree.
"Billy I What are you doing here?" She turned to face him, no longer angry and making no attempt to cover her beautiful titties or red-haired cunt.
"I'm ... uh ... here to go swimming," he told her, his face beet-colored.
"Why were you hiding?"
Bill didn't answer. He couldn't. He didn't even know for sure why he had stationed himself behind the oak tree.
"Did you want to see me nude?" she asked him. "You should have just said so! I don't mind ..." She came down off the rock and stepped toward her young cousin. Within seconds, she was to face to face and naked as a plucked chicken.
He couldn't look her in the eye, but it wasn't because of embarrassment. He just couldn't keep his gaze away from her titties and pussy. The titties he'd actually seen before in brief glimpses, when she would bend over in her nightgown at the breakfast table. But her pussy was something else again! He didn't know what it was for, but he knew it was magic.
"I'll bet you don't know a thing about women," Jenny said. "Or fucking."
"Fucking?" Bill gulped. He'd heard that word in school and somehow he knew it had something to do with that secret place between his cousin's legs that was all covered with red fur.
"Yes, fucking!" Jenny's face became a devilish mask and she said, "Wouldn't you like to learn?"
Helpless, he confessed ... "Yyeesss."
"Well, take off your shorts then!" Without waiting, she unsnapped the garment, fiddled with the zipper and yanked them down to his knees. He hadn't worn underpants and his cock was completely exposed to his cousin's view.
Jenny dropped to her knees on the leaf-covered earth and took his organ in both hands. Grasping the shaft firmly, she touched her tongue to the flat of her thumb and rubbed the saliva around the head of her cousin's prick.
"You've never been touched by a girl, have you?"
"N-n-n-no," he said, gasping for breath.
Boy, do I ever have a lot to teach you! Jenny laughed softly and leaned forward, deftly sucking the head of her cousin's cock inside her hot, thirty-year-old mouth.
Chapter Six
Rhonda felt a little better by the time the police came. Her mother had rubben her back and swabbed her face with a damp washcloth, then gone over the late evening events blow by blow. It was hard for Rhonda to talk about it all, but her mother's sympathy made it easy enough that she made it through the whole episode once.
Then the police came, a man and a woman, and the blue uniforms and badges and guns scared Rhonda and made her start crying again. The police woman tried to comfort her but she didn't want comfort from a middle-aged matron she'd never seen before.
When she stopped crying long enough to find out she had to tell the whole story again for the police record, she started crying so hard that her mother convinced the officers that she had heard it clearly enough to accomodate the initial report they would have to file. In her room with the door closed, Rhonda heard her mother walking about the house with the police, re-enacting the scene of the crime, showing them the front door where the rapist entered, the laundry room where he had thrown the main power switch, the bathroom where Rhonda had been bathing before she was forced to bend over and let the man fuck her. Her mother and John explained that they had been visiting friends in Needmore and then Rhonda couldn't hear any more talk. She thought... she hoped to God, that this was the end of it, that the police would go away and leave her alone to cry and sleep.
The door opened and her mother came into the room. "You have to get dressed, honey," she said. "Why?" Rhonda pleaded. "Because we have to go down to the police station."
"No! I can't!"
"You have to dear. A doctor down there will have to give you a pelvic and make a report on what he finds."
"Oh, Mom! I couldn't! I couldn't let another man touch me... down there! Not tonight!" There was wild fear in the girl's eyes and she was on the verge of hysteria.
"Listen, Rhonda," her mother argued. "Be a big girl. This is what happens when you get raped. You have to go to the police station and be examined. It might help catch the man who did it to you. Now come on and get dressed."
Rhonda saw there was no arguing, so she slipped out from under the covers and put on panties and Levi's under her night gown. Then she pulled the gown off and slipped on a bra. Looking around the room, she saw the linen pantsuit draped across the dresser and hoped her mother hadn't seen it. If she had, she would wonder why it was out and where her daughter had gone that she needed to dress up. Rhonda shuddered at the thought and picked up the green blouse with the low neckline. That just wouldn't do with Levi's, so she rummaged through her drawers until she found a cotton turtleneck pullover.
In the police car she felt very uncomfortable. Her mother was in the back seat with her and that helped, but not much. There weren't any handles on the back doors for windows or anything else. They were prisoners until the police officers let them out. There was a heavy screen separating the front of the car from the back and they couldn't even talk to the officers if they wanted to.
The trip to town seemed to take forever and once they got there, another eternity passed before they arrived at the police station downtown. There, Rhonda was helped up the concrete stairs by her mother on one side and the police woman on the other. She didn't need help climbing the stairs and it made her feel like a criminal being brought to justice to have someone firmly holding onto each of her slender young arms.
At the front desk, the policeman stopped to hand in the report and Rhonda was escorted down the hall to a tiny room with no windows. There was a narrow chrome table with stirrups at one end like her mother's gynecologist used and a gray desk and a gray stool. The police woman reached inside a small cabinet and brought out a starched white robe.
"Undress and put this on," she instructed Rhonda. "The doctor will be in in a minute." Then, turning to Rhonda's mother she said, "You'll have to wait outside with me."
"But can't I stay with her? She's only a child!"
"I'm sorry, ma'am. It's the rules."
Rhonda felt more alone than she'd ever felt in her life when the heavy steel door closed. It was all she could do to keep from crying again, but she didn't want the doctor to see her that way. She didn't want the doctor to see her at all. But there she was in an examining room with a white hospital gown in her hands and she'd been told to strip and put it on. So she quickly undressed, put the gown on and sat up on the table.
The air conditioning was turned up too high and the top of the table was cold as ice. She shivered and wondered what time it was and what time it would be before they would let her go home and go to sleep. She thought about Bill, who was probably curled up in his wonderful bed. If only he could be with her in this little hole of a room, holding her hand, telling her everything was all right. If only ... Rhonda felt the familiar tears on her cheeks as she realized that "if only" didn't mean a damned thing.
A woman dressed in white entered the cubicle and Rhonda immediately disliked her. At least the police woman had a kind appearance with her clear blue eyes and graying hair. This new woman looked like a rat with a pointed nose and beady black eyes and clipboard tucked under one arm.
"I'm the nurse," the woman said in clipped words. 'Take off your gown and stand up."
Rhonda shuddered. "Do I have to?"
"Yes, you have to. Now get undressed so I can look at you."
"I thought a doctor would d ... "The doctor will be in shortly to do a pelvic. I'll inspect your body for bruises or lacerations in the meantime. Now do as I say!"
Shaken, Rhonda slid off the table and removed her gown. Naked and cold, she stood still while the witchy woman studied her from head to toe. "Now turn around," the nurse commanded. Rhonda turned and she could feel those black eyes on her nakedness. They felt cold and evil and penetrating. She wished she could turn around because she didn't like the idea of the woman standing behind her at all. "Now bend over!"
Rhonda bent doulbe, grasping her knees with her hands. She could see skinny white-stockinged legs and the hem of a white dress. She could hear the sound of a pen scratching paper for several seconds and when the noise stopped, she was told to stand up and put her gown back on.
She had just finished tying it in back when the door opened again. A big man entered, wearing a blue suit, thick glasses and an enormous mustache. He closed the door and looked at Rhonda.
"My, my, what do we have here," he said, not really making a question of his sentence. "Alleged rape," spat the nurse.
"What does alleged mean?" Rhonda meekly asked..
"A precocious child!" the doctor bellowed. Then, calming himself, he answered, "It means young girls sometimes have their fantasies."
Rhonda trembled and decided against further comment. The nurse instructed her to lie on the table and before she could make herself confortable, she felt her knees being harshly bent and her feet crammed into the metal stirrups. The gown barely covered her bottom when she was standing up and now, lying flat on her back with legs spread wide and knees drawn up, she felt terrifyingly vulnerable.
"Slight swelling around the perenium," she heard the nurse say. "No other marks."
"Thank you, nurse. Gloves please."
Rhonda turned her head to see the doctor pulling on a pair of thin rubber gloves. He snapped the wrists when he had them on and clapped his hands together once. Then he turned toward the nurse and said, "Move the light down."
Beady eyes pulled a light down from the ceiling and turned it on. The high intensity bulb put out so much heat that Rhonda could feel it on the insides of her thighs.
"Let me see here," the doctor chirped, moving to the end of the examining table. As though studying the pages of a book, he pried the lips of her pussy apart and stared at her unveiled secrets intensely.
"My, my," he said. "Still all wet and gooey. Nurse, slide and test tube. Also a scraper."
Rhonda felt an instrument probing way up inside her vagina. It worked up, then down, up and down for nearly a minute.
"Interesting," the doctor chortled. "Interesting indeed. Tell me, young lady. How many times were you raped?
"Once," Rhonda squeaked.
"Nurse," he bellowed, looking away from Rhonda. "Get this girl dressed and out of here!"
Within minutes, Rhonda was fully dressed and trembling uncontrollably. The nurse led her outside the cubicle and down the hall to the room where her mother and the matron were waiting.
"You took terrible!" Mary told her daughter.
"Was it that bad?"
Rhonda just looked at her and didn't speak. She was exhausted and humiliated and frightened. There wasn't anything she wanted to say to anyone.
Shortly before noon, Rhonda opened her eyes and realized she was in bed in her room at home.
Her dreams had carried her to the far corner of the universe and it was with a lot of relief that she looked around at the familiar furniture and the clothes draped across the dresser and the rocking chair. The curtains were half open and she could see it was very bright outside, which meant it was also very hot.
Muffled through the closed bedroom door, she could hear the telephone ringing in the kitchen. Instinctively, she started out of bed to answer it, but when her feet touched the carpet she heard her mother's voice talking in monotones.
Rhonda thought about lying back down, pulling the sheet and spread back over her tired body. She felt like she could sleep a week at least, and there was nothing she really had to do today. But it was almost twelve o'clock, and somehow it just didn't seem right to sleep all day. She stood up on shaky legs and went to the closet for a housecoat. After she had slipped into the bulky quilted garment, she twisted the doorknob just as her mother yanked the door open. Rhonda smiled weakly.
"Don't smile at me you little bitch!" Mary Stapleton snapped.
In shock, Rhonda felt the blood draining from her face. "Wh... what's wrong?" she barely managed to ask.
"You know what's wrong! I just talked to Doctor Smathers."
"Ye ... yes____?"
"He's the one who examined you early this morning, after your so-called rape!"
Something in Rhonda snapped. She had always been an obedient child, always listened to her mother carefully and never shown disrespect. But right now she couldn't take someone shouting at her.
"Mom, what's WRONG?" she screamed. "STOP YELLING AT ME!"
Hot tears stung her cheeks as she heard her mother retort, "You know what's wrong'! You've been out SCREWING!" "Mom, I have not!"
"The hell you haven't! Doctor Smathers said there were two different types of semen in your vagina! Now don't tell me you haven't been screwing around! You said you were raped by one man. Now I don't even believe you were raped at all!"
"Mom, I swear to God I was!" Rhonda staggered backwards, tripped over the edge of the bed and sat down hard. Her hands came up to cover her face and she began sobbing loudly. "Crying won't get you out of it!" Mary yelled.
"What are these?" She grabbed the linen pantsuit and threw it at her daughter. "Where did you go that you needed to dress up? Tell me!"
"I... I..." Rhonda stammered. "I went to a movie."
"And let some boy screw you in the back seat of his flashy car! Maybe there were two of them! Who were they?"
Rhonda didn't answer and she felt her mother's strong hands on her own, yanking them away from her face.
"Answer me!" the woman screamed.
"I can't!"
"The hell you say! You can and you WILL!"
Rhonda felt the slap first as a tingling sting, then as an aching blow to the side of her head. The force of it nearly knocked her over on her side. She reached out a hand to keep herself from falling, but the arm buckled and she went on down. Her body convulsed with uncontrollable sobbing, but she fought for control. Finally she stopped shaking long enough to look her mother in the eye.
"I HATE you," she said.
Mary Stapleton's fists were clenched tightly and Rhonda thought she was going to be hit again. Her mother's face was so white it was scary. But instead of striking out, the woman turned quickly and fled the room. Rhonda heaM her mother's bedroom door slam shut and then she heard the sound of muffled crying.
Rhonda slammed both her fists into the pillow. Why was her mother being like this? She'd always been so kind and understanding before and now she was acting like a mad woman. The girl had been raped and she expected sympathy and all she got was damnation. What difference did it make if she'd lost her virginity with Bill on the same night she'd been accosted in the bathroom? She'd still been raped and now she had no one to turn to.
Angrily, she tore off the housecoat and pulled the nightgown over her head. She jumped into the Levis she'd worn to the police station, pulled a halter top from her dresser drawer and slipped into a pair of sandals. There was some change in her jewelry box and she pocketed it before leaving her room and heading for the front door.
Even outside, she could hear her mother crying. But Rhonda didn't care. She had herself to worry about and she desperately needed someone to talk to who understood her. Someone like Bill Sommers. A phone booth gleamed in the hot sun outside the Port Hole Inn and she headed straight for it. The door closed and the overhead fan came on. The constant whirr sounded like a small airplane to Rhonda, so she cracked the door open until the noise stopped.
She looked up Bill's home phone number, even though she figured he would be at work. But when she dialed, it only rang twice before a masculine voice came over the other end.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Bill? This is Rhonda."
"Uh, Jesus, Rhonda! How are you?"
"I'm in really bad trouble," she said calmly.
"What kind of trouble?"
"I need to talk to you about it. I've... been raped!"
"Oh, God, no! When did it happen?"
"Last night... after you brought me home."
"Jesus, did you call the police?"
"My mom did. She called and they came and took me down to the station. They scraped my insides and got semen samples. Then they found out there were two different kinds in me. My mom hit the ceiling and it was so bad I had to leave the house."
"Where are you now?" He somehow seemed shaken, but his voice was still calm and steady.
"I'm in a phone booth. What are you doing today?"
"I was getting ready to go into work for half a day. I called in sick this morning because I was so tired."
"I've got to get away from here! Just for a while. Please!"
"You want me to come pick you up?"
"Yeah, I'd love it. You know the bridge just before you get to the lake?"
"Sure."
"I can walk there from here and then you wouldn't have to come so close to the house. Mom'd probably kill you if she knew you and I had ... made love."
"I'll bet she would. Listen, I'll come down there as soon as I can make it. You'll be by the bridge?" "Yeah, I'll be there. Bill?" Rhonda paused for a few seconds, then said, "I love you."
Bill didn't say anything for a while. She could hear the sound of his breathing, but nothing more. Finally he cleared his throat and said, "Well talk about that when we're together. Okay?"
"Okay. I'll see you then."
"Bye." The receiver made a clicking noise and the phone went dead.
Chapter Seven
"Do you want something to eat?" Bill asked her when they entered his house in Bloomington.
"No thanks," Rhonda told him, even though she was half starved to death. She took a quick glance around the familiar living room and said, "I want to lay down with you and have you hold me."
He gave her a strange look, as though he didn't understand. But he said, "Okay, if that's what you want."
Together, they walked into the bedroom. The bed was made and everything was tidied up from the night before. Rhonda flung herself down on the luxurious spread and lay there, waiting for him to join her. The man kicked off his boots and eased his weight down next to the girl.
Rhonda immediately slipped into his arms and began crying. She had told him all about her encounter on the ride into town and now it seemed like there was only one thing left to do ... cry it out. Her tears rolled down her face and were absorbed by Bill's tan workshirt. She shook like a child and sobbed softly, feeling strong arms around her shoulders and smelling the man smell of perspiration and aftershave and coffe. Finally, there seemed to be no more reason to cry and she abruptly stopped.
"Feel better?" he asked her. "Yeah, I do. I feel a lot better. I wonder what it is about having somebody to talk to, to hold you? God, I felt so bad when my mom was mean to me this morning."
"I'll bet you did." Bill pushed her face away and looked into her eyes. He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away her tears. "It's rough as hell," he told her, "when someone you love turns away when you need them. And you needed your mother this morning."
Rhonda looked at the man, studying him, feeling his nearness. She wondered how many times he'd been hurt in all the years he'd been alive. Probably a lot, she figured. While she looked at his face, she felt his body shift next to hers and felt something about his body that was different than a minute ago.
Hey?" she asked him. "Are you turned on?" "Yes, I am," he confessed. "Why?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's my hands on your bare shoulders and back. Maybe the way your breasts feel against my chest. I really can't say."
"I think it's neat! You've just had to listen to all my sadness and hold me while I cry and now you're turned on! It makes me turned on to feel you hard like that."
Rhonda's hand slipped between their bodies and her sensitive fingertips traced the length of his shaft through the material of his work pants and cotton shorts. Then her fingers curled around the hard cylinder and she squeezed it.
Bill's complexion paled and he slid both his hands under the stretch material of Rhonda's halter top. Her nipples grazed his palms and his touch made them spring to life. The little buds grew and hardened until they were like erect little berries. He clasped each one between thunb and forefinger and rolled them around.
"Oh, God, Bill!" Rhonda cried. "Let's take off our clothes!"
Bill didn't say anything, but he reached behind the girl and untied the halter straps. He pulled the loop up over her head and she was naked from the waist up. Bending his neck, he found his lips within range of her firm titties and sucked a nipple inside his mouth. Rhonda pressed her breast hard against his face and inhaled deeply.
She felt strange in a way, wanting to be fucked so soon after the traumatic events that had been so devastating the night before. But she 'felt it anyway. She felt the throbbing ache between her legs and the tingling in her titties.
Bill deftly opened the top of her blue jeans and slipped a searching hand between the soft denim and the tender flesh of her young belly. His fingertips moved slowly down until they were under the waistband of her flimsy panties and tangled in the mossy curls of her pussy hair. Rhonda tipped her pelvis up toward him and felt her cuntlips spread. She was hot and juicy wet and a moan of pleasure escaped her lips when she felt a finger on either side of her yearning clit.
She began to hump his hand rhythmically while he flipped the swollen love button back and forth and rubbed it up and down. It was so different to have a mouth sucking her titties and a loving hand frigging her clit... so different from being bent over a bathtub and pronged by an unseen stranger who seemed to have no hands or feet or body at all. Nothing but a prick that roughly plunged in and out until it spurted and was gone. Rhonda shuddered at the memory.
Her own hand found her boyfriend's pulsating cock hard as an oak limb. She rubbed her thumb on the urethral opening, mostening the entire head with the little droplets of lubricant that oozed out at her touch. It felt so good and hard and hot that she wanted to feel more of it, to see it and taste it. Pulling away, she bent down and unfastened his belt and pants. She eased them down to his knees and inspected the throbbing organ.
It looked bigger and more swollen than she remembered from the night before. The head was purple-red where it lay against the soft brown curls of hair that grew on his stomach. The shaft was a fleshy grey color with knotted blue veins that ran up and down like soft nylon cords. She traced one of the veins with the tip of a fingernail from where it began down near the hairy sac that held his balls to where it disappeared into thelumpy circumsized flesh below the flared base of his cockhead. Bill's prick twitched and she was almost startled.
"Did you make it do that?" she asked him.
"Sure."
"How?"
"I don't know. Like that." His cock twitched again. While she fondled it some more, he reached for her waist and began removing her blue jeans.
Rhonda's fascination grew and she found her face closer and closer to the object of her intense interest. Her lips parted and her mouth fell open, seemingly with a mind of its own. Her hand held his prick firmly upright and she flicked the urethral hole with the tip of her tongue. The taste was strange, but not unpleasant. A little salty and musky at the same time. Experimentally, she lowered her face until the swollen knob at the end of his cock was inside her mouth.
"That feels so good!" Bill groaned, pulling her legs toward his head.
Rhonda rolled her tongue around the flesh she had captured between her lips and felt Bill's strong hands on her knees, pulling them apart and placing one on each side of his lower chest. Then the hands were on her ass, pulling her down and down until she felt something hot and wet touching the lips of her trembling pussy.
The idea shocked her at first. Even though she was bent over, laying on her elbows and sliding her tongue around a man's sex organ, it was weird to think of Bill with his mouth on her pussy and his nose pressed against the tight flesh above her asshole. But when she felt his tongue hard and hot on her gushing clit, she forgot about everything except the pleasure it was giving hei.
Pressing her face lower, she took another inch of cock into her mouth. The head rested against the back of her tongue and she thought of a doctor's tongue depresser and how it would gag her if it was where Bill's satiny prick was. But she wasn't gagging at all. She took another inch inside and sucked.
Bill revelled in the pleasure of licking and sucking and tasting a fifteen-year-old pussy humping against his face. He didn't seem to mind the owner of the delicious pussy was mouthing his cock either. He traced the delicate inner lips with the tip of his tongue and then plunged it deep inside Rhonda's clasping vagina. '
Feeling it, she trembled with excitement and pressed her pussy hard against his chin. She felt the cock in her mouth pressing upward and let it slide a little farther inside. The head touched the back of her throat before it slowly slid back until it almost escaped the grasp of her saliva-slick lips. Then it plunged back inside, pistoned by Bill's powerful hips.
Sensing the rhythm of his need, she began dipping her head down when the man humped upward, then pulling back when his hips swiveled downward. Her mouth was being used like a pussy and the idea delighted her. His cock slid in and out, faster and faster until she could hardly keep up with the movement. It was hard work to bob her head up and down so quickly and she was further distracted by the fingertips that had suddenly found her blood-engorged nipples and begun to twist them.
The strain of holding herself up on her elbows caused the muscles in her back to spasm. The sensation of having Bill's tongue dipping in and out of her gushing cunt and having her titties played with at the same time was overwhelming. All she wanted to do was let go and cum! Only she wanted Bill to cum too, and she just couldn't keep on the way she was going.
Suddenly, she yanked her head back and heard his cock slap against his belly. She hurled herself away from him and landed on her back. Her legs spread as far apart as they would go and she said, "Fuck me! I wanta be FUCKED!"
Without a word, the man obligingly got up on his knees and positioned himself between Rhonda's widespread thighs. Her pussy was open to him and he paused for a second, watching the hair-lined flesh quiver before his eyes. Then he leaned down on his elbows, slowly lowering his bulk onto the yielding body beneath his own. His cockhead touched the beckoningly moist inner lips and he plunged himself deep inside the hot, clasping channel of the teenage girl.
Rhonda shoved her cunt hard up against his pelvic bone, squeezing her clit between her pubic mound and his. Waves of pleasure rippled through her body and she twisted her hips to feel more. Bill's cock eased out and slammed back inside so hard that the bed creaked under his weight. He held it there for a minute, then repeated the process. The second time he jackhammered into her, she thrust her hips upward to meet him.
Her titties were pressed flat by the pressure of his chest and she could feel the tingling in her nipples. It moved from there inside and down into her stomach, where it spread out before gathering in the central place between her legs. The speed of the fucking intensified and the aching but pleasurable feeling grew with each quickened thrust. Her hips swiveled up and down with an abandon she had never felt in her life. She felt hot and wet all over and when their bodies came together she heard a splash-slap sound.
Her body twisted and jerked in series after series of earthquake-like spasms, but Bill kept right on hammering in and out with lightening, fast strokes. The muscles knotted and stood out on his neck and his face was apple red. Rhonda saw him through half-closed, half-glazed eyes. She saw the droplets of sweat on his forehead and the far away look in his eyes. Then she saw an almost agonized expression and another shattering orgasm raked her nervous system as she felt spurt after spurt of hot, gushing cum shoot deep inside her pulsating channel.
Bill rammed in and out a few more times, but it was only the last gasping attempts of reviving an act that was already over. He was breathing harder than Rhonda had ever heard a person breathe and she felt relief when he relaxed his body and lay comfortable on top of her.
They lay like that for a long time, listening to each other breathe and feeling each other's heart beat. For a day that had started out to be pure hell, Rhonda was amazed to find that she had never felt better in her life. She was happy and warm and secure and loved. It had to be love, the way she had felt when she was being fucked. It had to be love when a girl wanted to put a man's cock in her mouth and when a man wanted to eat her pussy.
"Bill," she said. "Is it always really good like that?"
The man opened his eyes, propped himself on one elbow and said, "No. It's not always good."
"This was good, wasn't it?"
"Yes, this was very good."
"Bill?"
"What?" he asked softly.
"I love you."
Bill pulled his deflated, soggy cock out of Rhonda's pussy and rolled off her body. Sitting cross-legged by her head, he looked down into her eyes.
"You do," he said. There was no feeling in his words. Rhonda felt sad and hurt. She wanted him to tell her he loved her, but he didn't and it seemed like he wasn't going to. His eyes had that strange look in them again and it didn't look like he was going to say anything at all. But finally, he asked, "What is love to you?"
"I don't know," she confessed, "I guess it's just a feeling."
"You have to know more about it than that. What kind of feeling is it?"
"I guess it's feeling that someone cares for you. And that you care for them. Do you care for me?"
"Yes, I care a lot."
"I care for you, too."
"I know that; you already said it."
"Is that why you came and picked me up when I called? Because you care for me and I needed you?"
"That's a lot of it," Bill said. "But there's more than that. I came because I care for you and I knew you needed someone to care and to help. I also came because I wanted to fuck you again."
Rhonda lay naked on the bed, still spreadeagled and on her back. She looked at Bill and her eyes began to sting. She didn't know why, but there were tears flowing out of the corners and she was crying.
Chapter Eight
By four-thirty in the afternoon, Rhonda's mother was angrily pacing the floor of her living room. She had smoked one cigarette after another all afternoon and now she was gulping gin and tonic in an attempt to calm herself. It wasn't like her daughter to do such a thing, to just stomp out of the house and not come back. Mary Stapleton was worried sick, but she was also mad.
She'd missed a day of work because of staying up all night and going to the police station at the crack of dawn, She had also missed lunch with Harry Engels and the noontime meal was always something to look forward to with Harry. She shivered with anticipation remembering his call at one o'clock. She was still crying, but had managed to pull herself together enough to answer the phone. Harry said he'd missed her at lunch but would be delighted to eat her for dinner.
The very thought of Harry's tongue stuck up her cunt made Mary's panties so wet she could mop the kitchen floor with them. Even after spending the night before fucking two men one after the other, she still wanted Harry. More than being the best lover she'd ever had in her life, she loved him. She still liked to fuck whomever she pleased when the idea took her fancy, but she loved Harry and missed him when she didn't see him every day. And if Rhonda didn't get home soon, she was going to miss having him eat her pussy for dinner.
Mary didn't feel at all good about the encounter she'd had with her daughter. The shouting session had left her in tears and full of doubts about how Rhonda was going to turn out. Fifteen years old and with two different kinds of semen in her snatch! And the rape thing... Mary seriously doubted that there had been a rape at all. She suspected it was a mere child's fantasy, designed to remove the victim from the guilt she felt about having been fucked.
Rhonda shouldn't be fucking anyone anyway, Mary told herself. It wasn't natural at her age. Fifteen was too young. What about birth control? What about venereal disease? She shuddered at the thought of her little girl pregnant and suffering from syphilis or gonorrhea. The notion struck her that she should beat the girl's ass with a ruler and make her stay in her room for a week. Rape, for Christ's sake! Mary hastily gulped the contents of her glass and stalked into the kitchen for a refill.
She had tried to be a lenient mother. She'd let Rhonda dress the way she wanted. Even that silly see-through bathing suit! It was a wonder she hadn't been raped, wearing that damned thing around. Mary tossed her head back to get the hair out of her eyes and went back to the living room.
The lenient parent bit could only go so far, then a foot had to be put down, a line drawn. When the girl was older, she could do as she pleased. But while she was under her mother's roof, she had to behave like a normal teenager. There was no way to avoid petting sessions in the back seats of cars... Mary knew that. She even expected her daughter to lose her virginity in the next couple of years. It was only natural and it was bound to happen. But at fifteen years of age, she was absolutely not going to pull rape fantasies after being pronged by two pimply-faced high school boys in one night!
Mary tossed half the drink down in one gulp and heard a voice humming a tuneless tune. It sounded like Rhonda's voice. There were footsteps, too. Sandaled feet clattering along the road, then onto the driveway, then up the walk.
Rhonda felt strong and brave as she walked up to the front door of her mother's house. She knew she could handle her mother one way or another. But she also felt more than a little sad. Bill had spent a long time educating her to the facts of her fifteen-year-old existence. He had told her he was not in love with her, for one thing.
He had told her she was a child in the eyes of the law and that he could be busted really bad for fucking her. His semen sample was on file at the Bloomington police laboratory and if her mother ever suspected him, she could take him to court and prove that he'd had sexual relations with her daughter.
So he couldn't offer her anything except kindness, comfort and orgasms when a rendezvous could be be arranged. It was tough, he'd said, but that was the way life was. When she was eighteen, if they still knew each other, they could spend time together openly. But that was three years away and Bill said she would probably have gone through half a dozen boyfriends by that time and wouldn't even remember who he was. Rhonda didn't really believe that last part; she didn't believe she'd ever forget Bill Sommers. Cautiously, she reached for the doorknob and twisted it.
"Where in the hell have you been!" her mother snapped. It wasn't even put as a question. "Out whoring around, I suppose!"
"Mom," Rhonda said, her voice steady. "Please don't."
"I'll do what I goddamn well want! Tell me where you've been, young lady! Right now!"
"I've been walking. Thinking. I heeded to be alone." She was proud of herself, the way she was remaining cool. But she knew she was on shaky ground with a mother that was on the edge of hysteria.
"I don't believe you," her mother said, voice a little lower. "I don't trust you any more. Do you know that?"
"You said it. I believe you."
"Now don't get smart with me, you little bitch! I'm your MOTHER!"
"I'm not getting smart..."
"The hell you aren't! You just shut your mouth and get into the bedroom!"
"What for?" Rhonda asked, frightened now.
"Just get in there!" Mary grabbed her daughter by the shoulder and gave her a shove.
Rhonda went willingly enough, but she didn't like the idea of being cornered in a tiny bedroom by a woman who was obviously out of her mind with anger. She really wanted to bolt for the front door and run away. Maybe forever. But her mother was right behind her and when she lagged, she was pushed and shoved.
In the bedroom, her mother slammed the door shut and glared at her. "Get those clothes off," she yelled.
"No!" Rhonda shouted back.
"Yes! Get those clothes off! I'm gonna look at your cunt and see if you've been out fucking again. If you have, I'll march you right back down to the police station!"
"Mom ..." she pleaded.
"It's against the law for a girl your age. If you've done it again, I'll get to the bottom of who it is and have him prosecuted. Now get those clothes off!" She reached for the front of her daughter's halter top but she was forcefully shoved away.
"Listen," Rhonda hissed, feeling bolder than she'd ever felt in her life. "You're acting crazy and I won't stand for it! I'll fight you if I have to."
"The hell you will!" her mother screamed, leaping for her.
Rhonda wasn't glad about what was going on. She was as big as her mother, but it hurt to think of fighting with her. She had never dreamed it might come to this, but she wasn't going to give an inch.
Yet, with one fast movement, Mary Stapleton had her daughter's halter top clutched in her hand and ripped it off. Rhonda was naked from the waist up and she felt terribly vulnerable and frightened. But she was also angry and she grabbed her mother's blouse and yanked all the buttons off the front. She was soundly slapped for her effort and the force of the blow sent her reeling sideways against the closet door. Rhonda leaped at her mother and woman and girl found themselves wrestling on the floor of the bedroom.
Rhonda had the advantage, being on top. She was a mindless bundle of angry energy and without thinking, she tore her mother's blouse off completely. She raised her hand in the air and doubled it into a fist. She was ready to strike, but something stopped her. Something she felt in her stomach that made her simply unable to hit her own mother. She began to cry and fell forward, her body melting against another, softer one. She felt her mother's arms coming around her back and realized that she was crying too.
Chapter Nine
For the next several days Rhonda felt that there existed what she could only describe to herself as an armed truce in the house she shared with her mother. She was embarrassed by the fight they'd had and she felt confident that her mother was equally embarrassed. During the few times mother and daughter met each other's gaze, they both turned quickly away and went about their business.
Rhonda busied herself reading romance novels and waiting. She waited for her brother to come home for a visit and she waited for school to start again. She waited for Bill Sommers to call and she waited for her mother to start being friendly again.
Mary Stapleton seemed to be working harder than ever, spending many evenings at the office and seemingly never eating dinner at home any more. Rhonda suspected her mother was simply using every excuse she could come up with to stay away from home and in many ways she was just as glad not to see her.
Sue dropped by from time to time but somehow Rhonda didn't feel like she could talk to her friend about the many things that had troubled her lately. Sue was simply too immature, too inexperienced to understand the intricacies of being in love with someone who doesn't love you or being raped by an unknown stranger and not even being believed by your own mother. Nothing had ever happened to Sue like that and it would be like trying to explain algebra to a first grader.
Aimlessly, Rhonda got out of bed and wandered around her room, wearing a short, pink pajama set. She peeked out her window and noticed that a thunderstorm was brewing. There were scary black clouds looming out over the lake and it looked as though any minute blue-white threads of electricity would reach down out of them and strike the water. Weather like that put the nix on swimming or walking on the beach and for a moment, Rhonda was angry at the elements.
She'd read all the books in the house that interested her and the nearest library was in Bloomington. There was a grocery store where she could buy a paperback, but it was a long walk and Rhonda didn't make a habit of walking around when the weather was threatening. Too many people had been fried on or around Orange Lake doing just that.
In the kitchen, she turned on the radio but there was so much static that she couldn't make out the words that were being said. That meant it was storming like crazy somewhere and it would probably be doing the same thing on the lake within a few minutes. She opened the refrigerator and looked inside just as the wind started howling.
Midsummer was. not really the season for tornados, but the awesome storms had walked through Indiana during every month of the year at one time or another and the threat of destruction was something that was best to always keep in mind. Rhonda decided that if the house was to be blown away with her in it that she wanted to be dressed in something more substantial than a pair of baby doll pajamas. Quickly, she returned to her room and pulled on cutoffs and a halter top.
Thunder was booming in the distance by the time she returned to the kitchen. She opened a coke and sat down at the table to wait out the storm. There was no basement in the house, no place to go if a tornado did come, so there was nothing to do but sit and wait and hope it didn't. Still, her fateful attitude didn't keep her from being nervous and scared and she wished Bill could have been there to comfort her.
Bill. She wondered what he was doing. It was Friday, so he would be at work. Driving around in the van, checking electrical systems that had gone awry, replacing burned out fuses, just being Bill.
It was a Friday, so he would probably have a date when he got off work. Rhonda wondered what his date would be like. Probably nothing like herself, she thought. Probably someone his own age or maybe a little younger. Maybe a student at the university. Or a teacher. No girl or woman in her right mind would turn him down if he asked her out. Rhonda had a sudden image flashed on her mind screen of BUI holding a beautiful coed in his arms and the picture made her feel hot all over. And jealous.
The telephone rang just as lightening struck not far from the house. Rhonda didn't want to answer, as she knew it was dangerous to hold onto anything, that operated on electricity during a storm, but she figured it might be important. She picked up the receiver and heard Sue's excited voice at the other end of the crackly connection.
"Isn't this awful?" Sue said.
"Sure is! Have you heard a weather report?" Just as she asked the question, another clap of thunder rattled the dishes in the cupboard.
"Good God, that was close!" Sue shrieked. "It's just a severe storm watch, so I guess we don't have to worry."
The kitchen turned an eerie shade of blueish white and thunder shook the entire house. Rhonda felt a tingling shock as sparks flew from the receiver.
"Let's hang up!" she shouted. Before she could get rid of the phone she heard Sue saying something about coming over when the storm passed, but she wasn't sure of the words because lightening struck again, only not so close to the house.
She was really frightened now and she looked out the window to see the rain blowing sideways across the lake. Hail started to rattle like rocks on the side of the house and that was a bad sign. Her mother had taken her to the southern part of the state after a tornado had gone through and she remembered seeing places where hail had been driven through barns and houses like bullets from a machine gun.
There were no windows in the bathroom and she decided it would be the safest place for that reason. During violent storms, more people were injured by flying glass than any other cause and she felt safe once she closed and locked the door. The bathroom was not without it's bad memories however, and when a nearby lightning strike took out the electricity she ran, screaming, back into the kitchen.
The wind had died down, though, and the lightning seemed to be moving away. She waited, nervously sipping her coke, and after a while was able to calm down. The thunder marched off into the distance and little patches of sunlight spotted the lake. The water was still churning around but nothing like it had been only minutes before. Rhonda acknowledged with a sigh of relief, the fact that she would live another day.
Once she had relaxed, however, the same old doldrums were back. The weather obviously wasn't going to clear and the likelihood was that there would even be a couple more storms before the day was over. At least if it would stay calm for a while she could go for a walk on the lake shore and get out of the house.
The telephone rang again and Rhonda figured it was probably Sue. She was surprised when she answered to find that it was her mother.
"Are you okay out there?" Mary Stapleton asked her daughter.
"Sure, Mom. It was pretty bad, though."
"Any damage to the house?"
"I don't think so, but I haven't been outside yet.
The power went off ... it still isn't on yet."
"Well, they'll get it going after a while. Don't worry."
There was a tense silence for nearly a minute and Rhonda instinctively knew what was coming up next.
"Say, honey," her mother said. "I'm going out of town this evening and I won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. Why don't you have Sue come over and stay with you so you don't have to be alone."
"Okay, Mom." Rhonda sighed. "Have a nice time."
"I will, honey. You be good and I'll see you tomorrow. Bye bye."
There was a click and the phone went dead. There were tears in Rhonda's eyes but she wasn't going to give in to them. She was just sick and tired of being left alone all the time and she wished that her mother would get over whatever it was and start acting like a mother again.
"Damn her!" she said, just as the telephone rang again. This time it had to be Sue.
"Hello," she answered dully.
"Rhonda? Bill here."
"BUI! Gee, it's good to hear you! How have you been?"
"Pretty good. You?"
"Well, okay I guess." She wasn't about to admit her condition.
"Was the storm pretty bad on the lake?" "It wasn't much fun. A lot of lightning." "Well, listen ..." he paused. "What I'm calling about is that I was going to go visit some friends out in the country. Just a young couple I see now and then and I thought you might like to go along. Could you get out of the house without any trouble?"
"WOW!" Rhonda beamed. "I sure could! Mom's going away and won't be back till tomorrow afternoon. I'd love to go with you!"
"Well then, I'll tell you what. My boss invited me to dinner tonight, but I never stay very long. I'll pick you up about eight and we can go on out. That okay with you?"
"Sounds great."
"I'll see you at eight then."
"Okay. Bill..."
"Yes?"
"Thanks an awful lot for calling."
"Sure thing. Ill see you tonight."
Rhonda hung up and danced around the kitchen with joy. Bill hadn't forgotten her after all! And he was even going to take her to meet some of his friends! She looked at the clock and calculated that it would be nine hours before he came to pick her up and she thought she might die waiting for him.
By eight o'clock she was nervous as a cat at a dog pound. She'd taken two showers, washer her hair, brushed it until it felt like it was ready to fall out and spent hours thinking about what to wear. She wanted to look sexy but not too sexy. She wanted to look older than she was, but she didn't want to overdo it. She wanted to dress nicely but not so nice that she would look out of place visiting people in the country.
When Bill pulled up in his roadster she stepped out of the house wearing a pair of patchwork Levi's that she'd done the work on herself. For a top, she wore a pre-faded Levi's jacket with a halter top on underneath. If it was too hot, she could take the thin jacket off and be comfortable, but she wouldn't have to freeze to death on the way home if it got foggy and cool.
Bill gave her a hug and kissed her lightly on the lips when he got out of the car. "It's good to see you," he told her.
"It's good to see YOU!"
"Well, it's a little after eight, so let's go on out there. It's about a twenty minute drive." He opened her door for her and closed it when she was seated.
"How are you and your mother getting along?"
he asked, crossing the bridge.
"Terrible! God, I've wanted to talk to you about it but I didn't feel like I should call."
"That's ridiculous! Call any time you want. What's the trouble between you two?"
"After you brought me back here last week, she got really mad and we had a fight. Not just yelling at each other. We hit and pushed and shoved and it was ... it was awful!"
"Sounds like it. And you haven't made up yet?"
"Far from it. I guess she's embarrassed or something, but she's hardly ever home any more. I don't think we've even eaten together since it happened."
"What was she mad about?"
"The whole rape thing all over. She doesn't believe I was raped and she thinks I'm too young to..."
"Be having intercourse."
"Yeah. I wish something would happen ... like I need somehow to prove to her that I was raped, only I don't know how. Or if I could just show her that I'm old enough to do what I want and that I won't get into trouble. I don't know. There's just got to be some way we could get things straight between us."
"It might take a few years."
"That's what I'm afraid of," she agreed. "I.ve even thought about running away."
"You're too young to run away and that's a natural fact." Bill was firm in his opinion.
"Isn't there some way ..." she persisted.
"No, there's not!" He turned off to the right and accelerated through the gears. "Besides, the life of a runaway, while it lasts, isn't all it's cracked up to be. You'd be more miserable than you would be at home waiting it out."
"Well, I'm not through thinking about it. I've got to do something!"
Bill smiled and put his hand on her knee. "Listen: why don't you just relax and have a good time tonight. Enjoy yourself. I think you'll like my friends. Then, tomorrow, you'll feel a lot better. Just wait and see."
"Oh, Bill! You make me feel better just talking."
Rhonda watched the lights on the road and saw a couple of rabbits hop across in front of the car. The air was cool and the ground was wet and it was starting to become misty. There were flashes of lightening way off in the distance but they didn't seem threatening. The sky was still overcast, though, and there weren't any stars visible.
Within a few minutes raindrops started spattering the windshield and Bill turned on the wipers. The wind was picking up, but it wasn't anything like it had been earlier that day.
"It's getting worse," Bill said, peering through the increasing density of wetness. "I. hope we don't have another storm."
"I do too. They scare me."
"Well, we're only a few miles away now. The house we're going to sits down in a valley and you'll feel safe there even if it does start to storm."
They drove in silence for a few minutes and Bill's face showed some concern when the motor started to sputter. The rain was heavy now and he obviously didn't like the idea of car trouble in a downpour. The sputtering got worse and Rhonda could feel the tenseness in the man's thoughts.
"What's wrong?" she asked him.
"I don't know. Shit! I'm not about to get out in this to find out, either!"
"What'll we do?"
"Just try to make it on out to Larry's house. It sounds bad though."
Rhonda didn't know anything about cars, but she didn't like the way this one sounded. She looked over at the speedometer and noticed that they were barely doing twenty. In a minute, it was down to ten. Bill cursed with a vengeance and banged his fist on the steering wheel when the motor died altogether.
"This is it," he said, easing the sports car off onto the shoulder.
"What'll we do now?"
He didn't answer for a while, but seemed to be thinking. "Well," he finally said, "it's raining like hell out there but I see some lights up ahead. We could make a run for it, use their telephone and have Larry come and pick us up."
"Sounds better than sitting in the car all night."
"It sure does. It sure as hell does." Bill put his arm around Rhonda and pulled her close. "I'm sorry to get you wet," he whispered.
Mary Stapieton had never been so turned on in her life. On the floor in the middle of twenty-odd naked people, she felt like she was in a veritable sea of writhing, sucking, fucking humanity. The movie cameras had bothered her at first and the intense lights bothered her a lot more, but she felt as unbothered as a woman could feel at the moment.
She had never been one to involve herself with young boys, feeling that there was something kind of perverse about a woman going for a man who was even a few years her junior. But that was before she had come to the orgy and seen half a dozen teenage boys with no clothes on. Their nearly hairless bodies had excited her, but not nearly as much as the array of glistening pink cocks and boy-balls that hung down from them.
At the moment, she was putting on quite a show for the camera and enjoying the fact that she was the center of attention. In a bent-over squatting position, she had managed to accpet one young cock in her pussy, and another smaller one in her ass. Then, as delightful as a table full of chocolate sundaes, she was lavishly sucking and licking a beautiful phallic specimen belonging to a boy who couldn't have been as old as Rhonda.
Mary had no idea where Ben and Sylvia had come up with all the teenage flesh and she had twinges of paranoia when she thought about what would happen to all the adults present at the party if the police happened to stumble inside and catch the action. But Ben had guaranteed her that money had changed hands and that there was absolutely no danger.
So she simply let herself enjoy the sensation of having two nice cocks sawing in and out of her two nether orifices while she sucked the very life substance out of the one lodged in her dripping mouth. The boys behind and under her were fucking pretty fast and her head was bobbing up and down like a jack-in-the-box. It wouldn't be long before all four of them came and it would be time to get into a new partner or better yet, a new pair or trio of partners.
Her lips curled into a grin when she felt the throbbing waves of orgasm coursing through her body and squeezed her asshole and vagina tightly around their mentors so that the boys would cum with her. Then she thrust a forefinger into the ass of the boy she was sucking and felt his hips gyrate wildly in response.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught some movement that didn't seem to belong where it was, but she was in no position to take her mind off the task at hand. All the muscles in her body started to tingle and twitch as she started to cum. Her body contracted like that of an epileptic and then it relaxed and contracted again. She felt hot, juicy sperm shooting into her from three directions and had to concentrate to gulp down the load that was spurting into the back of her throat.
Her eyes were closed and she felt exhausted, even though she knew she would be ready for action in a few minutes. She was blissful and euphoric, as though someone had put some kind of happy pills in the wine she'd been drinking. But through the euphoria, she heard a vaguely familiar laughter.
The laughter grew more shrill and more intense. It sounded like a crazy woman going through some kind of hysteria right next to her left ear. Mary didn't want to open her eyes and see the source of that laughter. Something warned that she was in for an unpleasant surprise. But the laughter went on and there seemed to be no way to shut it out. With a rapidly deflating cock still sucked tightly inside her mouth, she twisted her head to the side and opened one eye. She saw an extremely handsome blond man who was fully clothed. But he wasn't laughing. No one else had their clothes on, and she thought it was strange that this man was still dressed. He was also dripping wet, which was even more unusual. The she opened her other eye and saw a young girl who had stopped laughing but had started saying, "Mother, Mother, Mother..."
