Archive Note: Whole pages have been removed from this book, apparently while using a razor blade to cut out some images.
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CHAPTER ONE
Cathy sat very still, trembling slightly, as her father unbuttoned her blouse.
He was drunk. She could smell the alcohol on his excited breath. But he wasn't so drunk he didn't know what he was doing.
Fred Dietz began to smile, then became serious. "You took Mary from me. You killed her ... killed your own mother ... killed my wife. ... " He fumbled the last button from its hole and spread Cathy's pink blouse to reveal her small, young breasts.
She wept and tried to turn away. "It wasn't my fault, daddy! The other car. ... "
"Don't give me any excuses! I don't want excuses! You've got to take your mother's place! That's fair. Isn't it?" He gathered her into his strong arms and pressed her tender flesh to his rough, wide-wale corduroy jacket. He rocked to and fro, to and fro, holding her prisoner, muttering his justifications.
Cathy didn't know what to do! She was nineteen, he was so big and strong, they were all alone in the farmhouse now, five days after the funeral, seven days after the accident that had killed her mother and left Cathy with only a few bruises.
Mary Dietz's death had hit Fred like a thunderbolt. He had been a happy-go-lucky, generous, hardworking man, a successful farmer of 245 acres of lettuce and onions and cabbage.
Overnight, since the accident since seeing his lovely wife's face ripped and gouged by glass and metal he had become a silent, brooding, heavy-drinking brute.
And now he was probably insane. The base of his life and his beliefs had been destroyed.
Abruptly, he held her away at arm's length, his big, strong fingers digging into her bare shoulders. His bleary gray eyes examined her small, perfectly formed breasts, her button-like pink nipples.
Cathy flushed. "Daddy!"
"You're nineteen. That's old enough. Mary 'n me were in the hay when she was your age. Got married right after. Best wife a man ever. ... "
He blinked and swallowed and closed his eyes. "DAMN YOU! You and your wanting to learn to drive!"
"It wasn't my fault!"
"Hell it wasn't! I saw the official report. I talked with the other driver! You ran Allen Junction! Didn't even slow down!" He shook Cathy violently. Her head snapped back and forth.
She burst into tears. Was it true? She couldn't remember. The seconds before the accident were hazy in her memory. All she recalled was her mother's scream, a blur of green car coming from the right, the terrible slamming impact, their car slewing, tilting, her mother's awful screams.
"You're a murderer! And by God, little girl, you're going to pay for it. Because if you don't make good what you've done ... if you don't take my Mary's place ... then it's ... the whole world is a fucking lie! Nothing makes sense! There's no point to anything if. ... "
He threw Cathy across the small living room to the overstuffed sofa. "It's either this, girl, or I kill you. There has got to be justice done here, one way or another. If there's a God in heaven, if there's any meaning to life at all, there's got to be justice here and now! You hear me?"
Cathy nodded miserably. Deep down she accepted his judgment, even though the official inquest hadn't blamed her. She had to make it up to him. "Get in the bedroom!"
She shivered with dread and a shameful excitement. "Daddy, I've never done it before."
He stood, swaying, blinking, for a few seconds. "You're cherry, huh? That's good. That makes it better. That helps even things a little more." He gestured roughly for her to go ahead.
Cathy stumbled as she entered the bedroom and saw the old brass bedstead that had been in the Dietz family for generations. Her throat tightened up and her belly felt sick. She wanted to turn and run, to bolt from the house.
But she went forward to the bed where her father and mother had made love only a week ago. And now her father was going to make love to her.
He clumped into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. He was a big man, six feet two, and weighed over two-hundred pounds. His blonde hair was crewcut he had never had anything but contempt for what he called "the shaggy-dog look". He always made fun of the long-haired boys who came to see her, and of Jerry, the hired hand who lived in the travel trailer out by the machinery barn.
"Get the rest of those clothes off. Get in under the covers."
Fighting a rising tide of fear, she obeyed. She turned her back to him and slid her skirt down. and then her panties. She made a quick, scurrying move under the covers. She pulled the sheet and thick quilt up to her chin.
Fred Dietz observed this, grunted, and said, "I'm still gonna get a good look at you naked, girl. And you're gonna get a good look at me, too."
A moment later she saw him naked. Her blue eyes widened. She had seen her father stripped to the waist often. She knew his wide bony shoulders, ropy arms and flat, ridged belly. But now...
His cock riveted her gaze. It was terrifyingly long as it hung down between his thick, powerful legs. It was like a horse but curved slightly to the left. And his sack hung a long way, too, fuzzy with blonde hairs.
He stood beside the bed, arms folded across his chest. He ordered, "Take hold of it. Get a good feel of it. Make it feel good."
Cathy licked her lips. Her mouth was dry. She couldn't look away from his cock. She reached out from under the covers and gingerly touched it.
It was surprisingly cool. It was strange to touch a cock. She let her fingers curl around the shaft. She lifted it and examined the purplish, exposed head. She supposed he was circumcised because the skin wouldn't slide forward to cover the head.
He stood looking, nodding. "Play with it. Play with it. Get it really hard."
Cathy trembled. Wasn't it hard now? Could it possibly get bigger?
She squeezed and tried to bend the massive thing. It yielded like rubber. She made a fear sound in her throat. She whispered, "It's too big!"
"Hell, Mary loved it. You will, too, once you've had it a while. Stands to reason you're built to take it just like she was. Big mules run in our family. My dad had one on him would make a cow think twice. He said his dad was hung like a horse. The Dietz men are real men, and we always pick women who like deep fucking. No point in marrying some girl can't accommodate a real man and who don't like to be fucked."
Cathy made a face. "How big is it?"
"Dunno. Hell of a lot bigger than most. And it's all going into your belly, and that pretty damn soon, so make up your mind to make the best of it."
He reached down and threw back the covers, exposing Cathy to her knees.
She made a reflexive, abortive move to cover her cleft with her free hand, but then let him see what he wanted. She was slim, with narrow, boyish hips, and hardly any pubic hair at all, and that so fine and pale blonde that it was almost invisible. Except for her small, lovely breasts she appeared a child.
She edged away from him. He easily burrowed a long arm under her back and slid up against him.'I'm going to teach you how to take a big man, and I'm going to teach you how to suck me off like your mother did."
He saw the shock in Cathy's eyes. He laughed. "You think Mary never did things like that? She took to it like a calf takes to the teat."
He took Cathy's hand and guided it to his huge cock. "Play with it. Think some on sucking it." he put his hand on her left breast and caressed with surprising gentleness and skill. His big, thick fingers tenderly rubbed the nipple between them, causing tingles in Cathy that astonished her and shamed her.
Tears trickled down her cheeks. "Daddy, I loved mother too. I didn't want her dead. I didn't!"
He continued to caress and touch. Cathy's nipples turned to itchy pebbles. He said, "You two was always fighting. Always picking at each other."
"But I didn't want her dead!"
Fred tensed with rage. "WELL, SHE IS DEAD! AND I HOLD YOU RESPONSIBLE, GIRL!" His alcohol breath puffed in Cathy's face. She turned her face away, weeping, miserable, ashamed, afraid.
Cathy had played around a little with boys ... kissing and petting and some furtive touching. Brian Gerber from the next farm was the latest ... he was her unofficial boyfriend ... and she had let him feel her up twice, to the point where he had kissed her nipples and wormed a finger into her and gotten her so hot something had happened a kind of release.
She remembered it very clearly; the hot glow in her loins and the excitement, the weird pressure that made her more and more agitated. Then a feeling of out-of-control, a sense of possession of some rushing force in her body, and a sweet tide of pleasure that had burst in her loins. She had panted and moaned helplessly, clutching at him. It was wonderful.
She hadn't seen Brian since her mother's death. Everyone in the area had come to the funeral, of course.
"Look at me. Look at me!"
When she obeyed, sniffling, watery-eyed, he kissed her on the mouth. It was open-mouthed, and his tongue tried to enter.
Cathy struggled and made no sounds, but he held her and persisted, locked her in his iron grip ... and after a dozen long seconds she seemed to go weak inside and her tensed mouth softened, and her lips yielded, and his tongue entered her mouth and he grunted with satisfaction.
Cathy fought the terrible excitement that began to pervade her body and mind. She withheld her tongue from the kiss, but he flicked his tongue deep into her mouth, touched here and there. And his hands slid again to her naked little breasts and rearoused her nipples to fiery little pink stones. Her breast seemed small furnaces, radiating heat.
In spite of all she could do, her breathing quickened. She couldn't get enough air.
Fred seized her right hand and placed it on his as it rubbed and enlarged the hole in her hymen.
His hot mouth left her mouth and he commanded again, "Play with it!" She hadn't been doing anything with his huge cock. Her attention had been centered on her loins.
Cathy gripped the warm shaft and began stroking up and down. Her hand was too small to enclose it. The feel of his big thing now excited her. The hug maleness of him, the power, the terrifying prospect of all this length and thickness and hardness being thrust into her excited her in a perverse way she didn't understand.
Cathy shivered and opened her eyes and watched her hand manipulate the giant organ. The purplish head with its slit fascinated her. She half-imagined the slit was an eye and that it watched her, winked at her.
Her father's cock was very hard now, and he was breathing hard, his alcohol breath seemed to envelope her head. He explored her cunt deeply and shallowly, always seeking to loosen the opening, to widen it, to prepare her for the invasion to come.
Cathy licked her lips nervously, fearfully, wanting and yet not wanting. Her loins were glowing hot, sparkling from the fingerfuking, from the constantly rubbed sensitive clitoris.
Abruptly, he said roughly, "That's enough. You're plenty juicy. Time to break you in." He reared over her. His large, bony knees wedged between her slim thighs.
Sudden terror flooded her. She tried to roll away, to escape. "No, daddy, please no! You'll hurt me! You'll rip me!"
"Maybe a little bit, the first time. Got to expect that, girl. You're gonna be a woman in a few minutes." He pried her thighs further apart.
Cathy was close to vomiting with fear. Her eyes were wide blue pools of dread. Her mouth was contorted. She didn't know how to fight. She could only pant with terror and fling her head this way and that. She dared not hit at him; she knew it would only enrage him and cause him to beat her. And he'd still do what he wanted to do.
She felt the head of his giant cock prod into her cleft. Her hips tried to shrink away, but there was nowhere to go. She felt the pressure of insertion, the straining, the pain as her remnant of hymen yielded and tore. She screamed as the massive cock surged deep into her belly, stretching her inside, forcing her channel to expand.
Fred Dietz grunted and muttered drunken satisfaction. He grinned and worked his hips and sank more and more cock into his daughter's engorged, virginal cunt.
But he was careful. Even drunk he was considerate to a degree. He watched her face for extremes of pain, and lessened a thrust, a too-deep plunge. He took his time once the entry was completed, once his monstrous cock was embedded in her tight, spasming vagina.
As the first shock and terror of her deflowering passed, Cathy existed in a personal world of intense body-knowledge. There was the ring of fire that was her torn hymen, there was the weird, entrancing sensation of his thick, long cock inside her body, there was the gorged feeling of containing too much, there was the movement in her belly, the thrusting, and there was the strange beginning glow in her loins. And there was a deep inner satisfaction, a dreadful happiness, that she didn't want to know.
Fred Dietz kept on and on, fucking his daughter, making it last, chuckling as he noted the gradual change of expression on her tear-streaked face. She wasn't crying anymore. She was quiet, breathing hard, avoiding his eyes, gripping the sheets with tightening fingers.
He whispered, "Getting to liking it, huh?" He kept on watching her face as he screwed her, as he ran his cock slowly in and out, as he gradually pressured deeper and deeper, working fat, rigid inches of cock into her tight, wet, hot cunt. Deeper ... and deeper ... and deeper.
Cathy was more and more aware of the pleasure. The fire of her entrance was fading as the stimulus of stronger sensations tended to cancel the pain in her nervous system.
She was in her mind a long, dark red tunnel, and she was host to an immense ram that surged into her length and battered at her quivering, yielding depth, forcing ever more room for its endless shaft. Each plunge of the ram brought a gasp, a shudder, a new, gradual deepening of the hot glow that was permeating her lower body.
There were sounds ... her father's gasps, his selfish, pleasured grunts, the creak of the old bed, the steady, embarrassing squeak-squawk of the springs, and her own pantings, gasps, catches of breath.
He gasped, "Getting there ... getting there
Cathy barely heard him. She was immersed in the sudden tide of hot pleasure that erupted in her loins, electrifying her, causing her to whimper with shame and the agony of climax. She cried out, "No, no, I don't want it!" But it was a lie, and the pleasure shook her and impelled her loins to jerk up, to take more, to seek with blind greed for more cock.
Her father grunted and leered and fucked all-out, driving the last extra-thick inch into her quivering, spasming cunt, jolting her, slapping her flexing, taut belly with his rigid, muscled stomach, causing a whimpering, keening shriek in her throat, causing a wild flailing, a manic, wild-eyes return fucking, a fierce clawing gripping of his arms by her suddenly strong fingers.
Cathy gave herself up to the overwhelming orgasmic pleasures, to the demonic lusts in her mind and body. Great shudders wracked her body, especially her rippling belly.
Her father's thrusts were shattering, gigantic, as he climaxed. He hissed and roared, bellowed, swore, cursed, and his cock, rock-hard, spewed semen like a fountain in her clenching, clonic, jelly-fist cunt.
And then he was finished, flopped on the bed beside her, arms flung wide, big chest heaving, his long, softening, wet cock shrinking, leaving a wet track on his lower belly.
Cathy was dazed, her entire body still pulsing with the sweet afterglow of that terrifying, shattering climax.
Fred Dietz sighed deeply three times. He sat up and looked around. He looked at his daughter and he scowled. He left the bed and began to dress.
Cathy rolled over onto her stomach. She buried her face in the pillow and began to weep again. Great, wracking sobs shook her.
Her father picked up his corduroy jacket and said, "Okay, girl, you're a woman now. No going back. You're my woman. You cook for me, clean for me, and you spread for me when I want you. I've got me a big farm to run, and I don't want no trouble from you."
He took two steps to the doorway. "I'm taking Jerry into town for supplies and we'll eat supper at Mabel's Place. So you don't have to cook tonight. You can clean yourself up and get yourself settled in your mind. I won't be wanting to screw you for a while, till you heal some and get the handle of things around her, more 'n now anyway. But you are my woman now, for sure, so think on it that way and act on it that way, and we'll get on fine."
He paused. "You hear me?"
Cathy wailed, "Yes!"
He grunted and left the house.
CHAPTER TWO
Cathy sniffed and pitied herself, and winced as she left the old bed. Moving slowly, she ran water into the tub for a bath.
She sat, naked, staring into the slowly-rising hot, steamy water. Her small hands were pressed against her lower belly, kneading, and she remembered every instant of what her father had done to her.
She heard him; him and Jerry talking, out by the barn, then the coughing, reluctant start of the old pickup. A moment later they were gone, and she was alone in the house; alone on the farm.
She thought about killing herself. She could cut her wrists and bleed until the clear, soapy water around her was streaked with red, until the water turned pink, and she got so tired and weak ... and the water would get a deeper pink.
Cathy didn't really want to die. Suicide was romantic and all, but it was too final. It was stupid. A part of her said, so he fucked you? So what? You like it.
She couldn't fool herself for long.
Cathy thought about getting dressed, packing, setting fire to the house, and leaving forever. There would be a lot of satisfaction to that.
But it wouldn't be smart.
Neither would killing him be smart. She was too young to run the farm by herself. She wasn't planning on that kind of responsibility just yet.
She hated her father. That was for sure! He was crazy, and he was going to come home and make her do some awful things ... suck him? Suck that huge thing?
She made a face and scrubbed herself with a washcloth loaded with soap.
Fred Dietz was going to come home and ... maybe in a few days, if she was lucky ... he was going to snap his fingers, make her get on the bed naked, and fuck her again. He'll drill her with that huge cock and make her hot and passionate so that she'll come again. It was awful, having a climax from your father fucking you!
Cathy started to cry. She wailed aloud, I'm not a whore! I didn't like it! I HATED IT!"
She didn't want to cook and wash and keep the house clean. She was being asked to be a wife, being asked to give up her pleasurable, young womanly years. No more dances or dates. It just wasn't fair!
Seething with resentment, Cathy finished bathing, and put on a long dress to cover her lack of panties. She was too sore to wear anything tight against her crotch. She had to move carefully and walk with tentative, little steps.
There were sharp, jabbed little pains where she was torn, and a deep ache in her belly.
She made herself two egg sandwiches, drank a glass of milk, and chomped on an apple. She sullenly watched TV for a while then got bored in the quiet, empty house, and wandered outside. She heard the chickens clucking for their feed, and for a change of water and the usual pickup of their eggs. They knew the routine. But she wouldn't do it!
Her own father had fucked her! She had a right to forget all the chores she usually did. Let HIM do the chores when he got back; he owed it to her.
Cathy thought about going to live with widow Martin. Jane Martin was in her late thirties and lived alone, just a half a mile away to the north, across the fields.
Tom Martin had got rolled over by his tractor, and Jane was whispered to be strange now ... talking to herself and acting funny. Sometimes she forgot to dress right and people had seen her walking half naked in yard.
Cathy thought widow Martin would be the last resort.
There was her mother's family ... the Knebels, who were located five miles away down the Old Trestle Road. Dirt poor and proud of it. Shanty trash whites. They'd lived on that worked-out land for almost a hundred and fifty years. All they did was provide girls for the young farm boys to marry. The Knebel girls got married and their new husbands' families paid a kind of dowry to the Knebels, because the Knebel girls were known to be lovely, passionate and fertile ... and hard workers.
like Cathy's mother. And Cathy was supposed to be like them, too.
Am I? She tried again to deny the pleasure she'd known when her father had fucked her. He'd done it for so long! Any girl would have turned on! It wasn't her fault. Even if he was her father, he sure knew how to fuck!
Cathy licked her lips and stared at the lingering sunset.
What could happen if she went to live with the Knebels? Would they keep her ... turn her back to Fred Dietz? Would they use her to produce more marriageable Knebel girls?
There just didn't seem to be any way out.
Cathy wandered slowly across the scraggly yard to the old travel trailer where Jerry lived. over their faces...
Cathy stared, straining to see in the semi-darkness, at the gooey strings of semen that puddled and laced across their open-mouthed faces, at their amused eyes...
What did it taste like?
With a jerk, a shock, Cathy remembered that her father had said that he was going to make her suck him! Her mother had loved doing it. NO! Her stomach roiled. She flung the magazine on the floor and lurched from the trailer.
She stood outside in the gloom and smelled the puffing evening breeze ... warm and heavy with the crops. She clenched her small fists with frustration.
Jerry and her father would be back soon, and she didn't know what to do. She swallowed a mouthful of saliva. She looked around wildly. She shivered in the warm night, feeling the tenderness of her naked loins under her dress, feeling the nakedness of her small breasts in the dress ... remembering the way her father had touched her, the touch of his knowing fingers on her nipples, on her belly.
She whimpered and turned toward the house. She took a step and then turned toward the fields. The skin on her belly suddenly began to itch and she scratched furiously. Her entire body was abruptly a mass of itchy, prickly sensations.
She screamed with fear and anxiety and lurched into the house. She went to her room, locked herself in and threw herself on the wooden bed. She clawed the pillow to keep from clawing and raking her skin.
What's the matter with me? she thought.
In the distance, she heard the approaching growl of the pickup.
CHAPTER THREE
Cathy huddled in her room as her father clumped into the house and called for her. She didn't answer.
She heard him walk heavily through the rooms, and finally come to her door. He growled, "You in there, girl?"
She drew her knees up to her chin, chewed her lower lip and watched the door with wide, fearful eyes. She didn't answer.
He tried the door and found it locked. He was enraged. "What the fuck are you trying?" He rattled the doorknob. "Listen here, this is my house! I own it and by God, girl I own you! You don't lock any door against me!"
Cathy flinched as he smashed against the old, frail wood. The ancient lock tore from the wood and Fred Dietz lurched into her small room. He peered into the gloom and saw her cowering on the narrow bed. "You're not sleeping in here no more. You sleep with me, in my bed. You move your clothes into my bedroom."
Cathy swallowed and licked her lips and nodded.
He didn't see her nod. "You hear me."
"Y-yes."
"All right." He was drunk again ... or still drunk. He stood swaying slightly, framed in the doorway by the light from the hall. He squinted at her, grinning.
Cathy could see the long bulge of his cock in his pants. She begged, "Please, daddy, don't ... don't do it to me again."
"Told you I wasn't gonna fuck you again right away. Give you a couple days." But his grin widened and twisted into a leer. "Said I was gonna teach you how to suck me off like your mother used to."
The mention and thought of his dead wife made Fred weep. He turned away. "You come to your right bed now. You took Mary from me. You are going to do for me what she did ... no two ways about it! You're gonna suck me off and suck me off good."
He lurched down the hall to the bigger bedroom. He kicked the half-open door wide and disappeared into the darkness.
Cathy was filled with loathing. Yet she had to obey him. He was a crazy man. Drunk. He'd kill her if she didn't do it.
Her mind was full of sucking images from the porno magazine she'd seen in the trailer. She couldn't do that. She'd vomit. She'd gag.
"CATHY! YOU GET IN HERE TO ME!"
Moaning, stomach churning, Cathy reluctantly slipped off her bed and walked slowly out of the room she would never sleep in again ... out of the innocence of a young woman, and into the bedroom where her father wanted her to perform a disgusting act.
He was struggling out of his clothes. He said, as she entered, "Get naked, girl!"
Numbly, Cathy obeyed. As she drew up over her body the material of her clothing, her naked breasts tingled in response to the enticing feeling of the tickling cloth. Her nipples instantly turned to hot, itchy pebbles. A deep throb echoed in her belly. She bit her lip and tried to deny the sensations she was feeling.
She climbed into the big bed and slipped under the covers. The sheets smelled sour. She automatically made a mental note to change them in the morning. She huddled and waited.
Fred pulled off his torn undershirt, peeled down white briefs, and sat heavily on the bed. He flipped up the covers and rolled in beside Cathy. The springs squeaked with his weight.
He took her into his arms and held her tight against his naked, hard-muscled body. He sighed. "Good to feel a woman against me. Can't do without it."
Cathy was terribly aware of his big cock. It lay pressing against her thigh, a hot snake, alive, slowly thickening, getting longer, moving, throbbing.
But she liked the closeness with her father. The body-length contact, the strong holding of her in his arms. She sighed, then wished this moment would last and last.
He was relaxed. His breathing deepened and became regular. Then he said, "You're going to be a good girl and make daddy happy, aren't you, Cathy?"
She was forced to whisper, "Yes."
"Remember the last time we were close like this? Don't mean this afternoon. Remember when you were about six years old? When Mary was in the hospital with that infection? You slept with me then. You remember that?"
Cathy shook her head. "No."
"We was both scared she wouldn't come back. You saw me naked that time. All eyes, you were. I figured it was okay for you to see a naked man. Part of life. Nothing wrong with that. I didn't touch you any way with sex in mind. Six year old girl!"
Cathy found herself trembling. She couldn't remember. She believed him. But she couldn't remember her mother ever having been sick in the hospital. Wouldn't that "abandonment" by her mother, and seeing her father naked, and sleeping in his bed with him, being cuddled by him ... wouldn't that make an impression? Wouldn't she remember that?
Cathy puzzled over the gap in her memory. But then, Fred shifted to lie on his back. He cradled her shoulders with his right arm. His hand naturally moved to cup her pert right breast, and his fingers, with surprising gentleness and skill, played with the hard nipple.
Her stomach filled with dread. The sex part was starting.
"Play with my prick!" he said.
Cathy moved her left hand and found the long, rubbery organ. Touching it and handling it wasn't as repellent or as disturbing as before. The size of it didn't terrify her. She had had it all in her. All of it!
She fingered the head and traced the edges of the circumcision. She trailed fingers along the length, and slipped her hand around the thickness and slowly pumped it.
It was strange and somehow nice, to have control over this huge center of her father's life. This massive cock.
"That's good, he said, satisfied, "just like Mary, you got a sweet touch."
His cock was very hard now. Throbbing strongly, pulsing in her soft grip. Doing this was such an alien thing for her ... her father. But Cathy was enjoying it, yet not admitting it.
For a few more minutes she handled the huge, hot, hard cock, explored its surfaces and contours with curious fingers, and became lost in a sensual reverie as his fingers continued to caress her left breast and toy with the burning nipple.
Then, he said huskily, "Now you start sucking it, girl. Move yourself down and start using your tongue."
Cathy swallowed a sudden accumulation of saliva. "Please, daddy . . .can't I just. . .just do you with my hand?"
"Nope! Don't want no hand job. Go on, now." His strong arm urged her downward, under the covers. His voice edged with lust and threat. "You start sucking!"
She made a face but yielded to his forceful pressure. She whimpered complainingly and pulled the covers over her head. She wormed lower along his body. She shifted hands and took hold of his monster cock with her right hand. She twisted to face his cock.
There is a special kind of privacy under the covers. . .warm, cozy, silent, like another world. Cathy was grateful for the privacy. She couldn't have done it with him watching.
In the total darkness ... with the sheet and weight of blankets pressing comfortingly against her body ... Cathy guided the long, thick shaft 'til the head was very close to her lips. She could smell his cock ... it stank of his sweat and of his juices from fucking her earlier.
She heard his angry, impatient command through the muffling covers: "Get to it! Suck, damn you!"
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Had her mother really done this and liked it? Cathy tentatively extended her tongue and touched it to the swollen glans. She licked ... it tasted ugly, but she knew she dare not stop.
She licked all around the head. Her eyes were closed in the darkness. The air was getting stale. She thought to pump the long, thick shaft as she licked. Hoping that would make him come quicker.
Then a sickening thought: Will he squirt all over my face? How awful and messy!
Making a face, Cathy obeyed. The big glans were clean from her tongue and tasted only rubbery. She took him literally and did suck his cock ... as if it were a big piece of chocolate.
To her surprise he groaned with obvious pleasure. His cock stiffened even more, and his body shifted, turned on his hip toward her. "That's it, girl! Suck! Yeah! You're learning, all right!"
She liked his praise. She liked his reactions. She put both hands on his cock and held it and sucked harder. It throbbed so! She felt his strong muscles against her belly tighten. He was so restless. He was breathing differently now.
All because she was sucking him!
He was like a puppet dancing at the end of his cock ... and she controlled his cock.
She began to see why her mother had liked to suck. It gave a woman an enormous power.
Cathy had to send an arm to the edge of the covers to lift them, so she could get some fresh air under the tent-like structure the bed covers formed. Then she concentrated more fully on the task of sucking her father's enormous cock.
She began to experiment a bit. She rotated her tongue in different ways. She stroked his cock as she sucked. She took the head deeper into her mouth, far back, until she gagged and had to retreat.
Boldly, she used one hand to play with his sack. She explored his genitals in the dark world under the covers, learning, marveling.
She learned physically and emotionally. And she sucked! She sucked! She knew he was getting close to coming.
Fred Dietz was in heaven. His hips moved in automatic coital thrusts, driving his cock into her mouth. He groaned and panted. He cursed with pleasure. He muttered, "Just like your mother . . .first time out she took to sucking like a calf to the teat..."
Cathy knew he was going to squirt his stuff in a minute. In her mouth. That thought made her for me, and you're gonna do it as good as she did it, whenever I want you to do it! There are no two ways about it. That's the way it is gonna be! So, now you start sucking!
Cathy snuffled and swallowed snot and made faces ... and asked pleadingly, "Will you p-put the covers over me again? I can't do it if you watch."
"This time. Next time it's out in the open, so I can see. Seeing it done gives me a charge. None of this hiding like a baby next time."
Cathy could only nod miserably. When he flipped the covers over her he muttered, "You swallow, now. Hear me?"
"Yes." In the welcome darkness, she obediently filled her mouth with his cock. She closed her eyes tight and tried to think of something else ... anything but what she was doing and what was about to happen.
She unconsciously resumed the delicate tongue-strokes and hand strokes and gentle suckings that had wrung such heartfelt groans of pleasure from him. In spite of herself, she wanted the power back, the subtle control.
Cathy hated the prospect of his stuff shooting into her mouth. But if her mother had done it ... a lot ... and if most women did it for their men ... It couldn't be all that terrible. Could it?
She felt his ecstasy approaching. He went right out of his mind. He was panting, groaning, almost incoherent with the pleasure her mouth and tongue and hands were giving him.
His cock became absolutely enormous. It seemed to thud with the power of his heart, with the pressure of the blood that engorged it. She could only get the plum-like head and a few inches of shaft into her mouth. But she knew instinctively that those were the most important inches.
Her father gave a curious, high-pitched cry, like a wounded pig. His cock leaped, pulsed, and a thick jet of syrupy fluid splashed into her throat.
Cathy froze for an instant. She gagged, then had to swallow. His cock erupted again and again, spewing the stuff over her tongue, everywhere in her mouth.
Her father yelled frantically, "DON'T STOP SUCKING!"
He hit at her through the covers.
Jolted, in a kind of daze, in shock, Cathy sucked on the now drooling head, which nestled deep in her mouth. She swallowed again and again, as the stuff accumulated and triggered the reflex.
The bed shook as Fred Dietz thrashed and howled. His hips jerked ruthlessly, pounding his long meat against the clenching resistance of her palate and throat.
Cathy's mind blurred. She held on to his giant shaft with both hands and kept the head and more in her mouth. She kept it from going too far in, and she sucked and sucked, and wondered dimly how long he could come. How much stuff was in him that she had to swallow.
Then it was over. Fred quieted. He stilled. His cock no longer drooled in her mouth. But she kept on sucking the shrinking organ until he said weakly, "Okay, okay, that's enough girl."
Cathy lay under the covers, breathing deeply, one hand still holding his shrinking, softening cock. She was deep inside herself, tasting what she had swallowed, comparing it to other tastes, thinking about sucking.
The stuff was soapy and salty. Not any worse than the gunk she swallowed automatically, without thinking, when she had a head cold and her sinuses drained into her throat.
And, how her dad had liked it, wow! The sucking. How he had thrashed about and made weird noises when he came. It was kind of funny. She smiled in the private darkness. Just put his cock in your mouth and do certain things with your tongue, and a man jerks and moans and shoots.
Cathy wondered if Jerry would react the same way? She pursed her lips and considered.
Fred said, "Come on out from under now. No reason to hide any more." He sighed. I am wiped out for a while, now, he thought. He laughed, then sighed. "Girl, first time out of the chute and you damn near matched Mary. You got natural sucking talent. You sure as hell are a Knebel girl. Got that sex know-how straight-from your mother."
She crept out from under the covers. She noticed how softened the lines of her father's face were. He lay limp, on his back, hands locked behind his head. He was smiling at her.
Cathy protested, "Mother never told me anything about doing ... how to do things like that."
"She didn't have to. It's in your blood. Just like a bird knows how to make a next, you Knebel girls just automatically know how to do a great fuckin' and suckin'. "
Cathy frowned. "What did I get from you, then?"
Fred grinned, "Not sure yet. We'll just have to wait and see. You're just a young woman. Man, I got years and years of sweet bed times coming to me."
Cathy made a face. Fred didn't see her swiftly passing expression. One thing she wasn't going to do and that was stay on this farm and work like a drudge all day and give him sex at night whenever he wanted it!
CHAPTER FOUR
But three weeks later. ...
Cathy lay under her father, knees high and wide, her juicy, hot cunt full of his driving, massive cock. She clutched his sweaty, hard-muscled back and shoulders with digging fingers. She panted with him and fucked with him, letting her hips surge to meet his plunges.
Small puffed grunts were pushed from her as if by the fat, long piston of his cock as it was driven so wonderfully deep onto her belly.
The golden glow of intense pleasure was in them both. She had stopped trying to mask her rapture soon after he had resumed screwing her, about ten days after the first time.
The old bed creaked and groaned, creaked and groaned, in a loud betrayal of what they were doing. Anybody standing outside by the bedroom would have heard ... and known.
Cathy was sure Jerry, the hired hand, knew. She had caught the looks he sent her way. She had heard tail-end jokes and cut-short comments by Fred.
She hated the idea of him telling Jerry what was going on ... joking about it ... about her. Probably telling how she was in bed ... how she sucked.
Only a month ago she had lain awake in her old bedroom, in her old, narrow bed, and listened to this bed creak and groan as her mother took this marvelous cock. She had heard Fred's groans ... his odd cry when he came and had been eaten up with curiosity. A virgin's curiosity.
Now she knew everything ... and her mother was dead. No. She was now her own mother. She was her father's wife.
And she loved it. And hated it!
She stopped thinking. She was going to come! He was drilling his cock so far in now. It had to be over nine inches. And so thick around at the base. That was what hurt a little, even now, after getting it every night for a week and a half now that great, thick last inch or two.
Cathy gritted her teeth with exquisite pleasure and pain. The tide of ecstasy swept her away and the pain was gone. There was only the heavy, sparkling, sweet glow the mind-flooding intensity of orgasm!
Her whole body was alive! Her breasts were larger, firmer, hot! Her belly leaped and flexed as Fred went into her spasming cunt to the limit!
She opened her eyes to the dimness of the faint yellow light cast by the shaded single bedside lamp. Fred seemed a crouching monster as he covered her, as his lean, bony hips rose and fell, arched and drove! He was panting with lust and exertion. His face was twisted in a mindless, grinning leer. He gasped between the massive, awesome surges of his giant cock, and watched her reactions with greedy eyes, and he said, "Yah like it a lot, don't yah, girl? like ole man's big meat."
He saw she was in orgasm. He saw her flushed face, dilated eyes, pebble-hard nipples. He felt the spasming, the jelly-fist loosening and gripping of her deep cunt, knew the frantic taking of her hips, the clawing grip of her fingers. "Love it when your daddy fucks yah!"
He was merciless. For some reason he wasn't coming now as he usually did, with her. He kept driving his cock so incredibly deep! He kept on taunting her. He kept on forcing her to face her pleasure and her status, and her sins.
He stroked faster, and harder! Not letting her orgasm end. Keeping her in a state of intense, chronic ecstasy.
Cathy couldn't evade the terrible reality, the terrible pleasure, the terrible lust in her body. She rose and fell in sweat, overwhelming pleasure, in a pink and purple world of rippling sensations.
Cathy writhed and twisted under him. She squirmed and panted and grunted with the wonderful impacts of his hard belly against her soft, engorged belly. His sack danced in her crotch, his cock was totally buried in her hot, wet, slippery cunt. She felt she was nothing but fiery cunt. There was nothing in the world more important than his massive, pleasure-giving cock.
On and on and on. ...
Until something broke in hr pleasure-drugged mind, and she whimpered, "Daddy, daddy, I love you, love you ... always loved you ... always wanted this ... you in me ... like this ... FUCKING ME!"
He laughed as he panted and worked.
Her eyes flared. "NO! I DIDN'T! I DIDN'T!" She tried to get away and could not. He was finally coming. He squealed and jolted her with frantic, orgasmic, ruthless, pile-driving plunges. The bed shook and rattled.
She could feel the hot jets of his semen inundating her cervix, virtually being squirted directly into her womb.
She had no fears about pregnancy. She had found her mother's supply of birth control pills, and those subtle drugs were in her system now.
What she and her father were doing was awful. To have a baby by him would be an even more terrible crime.
Fred Dietz was insane. Cathy thought she was, too. Because she couldn't stop him from having his way and couldn't stop herself her body from wanting it, too.
He levered himself off her. "Shee-it! That takes it outa a man." He sank heavily to the mattress and closed his eyes.
Cathy got off the bed and went to the bathroom to wash, her hand cupped over her slit, keeping the syrupy stuff from leaking to the rug. Not that it would matter.
As she washed she noted the dirty walls, the grimed tub and bowl. Everything in the house got so dirty so quickly!
Fred didn't give a damn! He only half washed his hands when he came in from the fields for lunch or supper. Most of the dirt was wiped off onto the towels. He refused to take off his frequently muddy boots when he entered. The rugs and linoleum floors were always tracked with scraps of dried mud and dirt.
The old automatic washer in the small utility room was making odd, grinding noises during its cycle, and she thought it was close to quitting on her. One of the heating units on the electric stove was burned out or something; it didn't work.
Cathy threw the damp washcloth into the bathtub and sat on the toilet seat and buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
The house the cooking and cleaning was too much for her to handle. She didn't want to handle it! She was only nineteen and she wanted a life of her own. She wanted dates and school and going places and excitement and ... anything else but this!
A cold, calculating part of her self, in the back of her mind, told her that sex wasn't everything. There were other men boys who could be as good in bed as her father. There were other cocks as big. She was pretty. And now she was experienced in sex. She could make out anywhere, now. All she had to do was dress, pack a bag, and walk.
But she was afraid of the outside world. Afraid of being alone on her own. And she did feel an obligation to her father. If it wasn't for her, her mother would still be alive. She owed him something. But how much? For how long?
Cathy sighed and sniffled and retrieved the washcloth from the tub. She took it and a dirty towel and threw them on the overflowing hamper in the utility room.
She padded, barefoot, naked, across the cool linoleum tile to the back door. She opened the door and enjoyed the cool night breeze on her skin, on her breasts and loins.
She felt delightfully naughty. fingers push deeper. Her breasts began to heat and itch. His thumb, constantly moving in the upper folds of her slit, sent shivers of pleasure coursing through her. She began to breathe through her mouth, and began to squirm restlessly.
"Shit, this is gettin' me interested again. Take a feel." He shifted position to his right side, to give her hand access to his cock.
She obediently groped and found him half-hard. She began playing with him.
Fred said after a minute, "Want you to suck it now."
Cathy was almost breathless from an approaching climax. She said, "I will." Her hips moved sinuously. She closed her eyes.
"Now!"
"Please, just a minute."
"You get to suckin' and I'll keep fingerin'. "
Desperate for release, she made a small whimpering moan, and swiftly moved in the bed, slipped her head and shoulders under the covers and stuffed his cock into her mouth. She sucked passionately. She turned her body so he could reach her humid loins.
His long cock thickened and stiffened as she sucked. She was rewarded as his hand returned to her crotch and resumed the adroit finger-fucking and thumb caress. His bunched fingers weren't long enough to touch bottom, but they opened her up good and kept the mouth of her vagina sparkling. His thumb rotated in a soup of oily secretions, making her gasp around the head of his cock.
She climaxed. A series of rippling shudders quaked her belly. She moaned and sucked in a frenzy of lust. Her tongue lashed the sensitive surfaces of his glans.
The sensations ebbed. But his fingers stayed in her, moving gently as before, tireless.
Almost immediately the sweet glow resumed in her belly, promising another orgasm in a few minutes.
Fred was pushing a lot of cock into her mouth now, as she sucked, pushing her head back, making her gag. She had to pull her mouth away to get her breath.
He threw the covers off her head and shoulders. "That's enough of that. Get your legs open."
Cathy spread. She drew her knees up to her chin as she had been taught. She waited, swallowing in anticipation, eyes closed, as he came over her, as he positioned the big head of his huge cock.
They groaned in unison as he plunged incredibly deep. His bulk was both terrifying and satisfying. She didn't understand how there could be room for it all in her. But it went in and in and in, swiftly, easily, filling her, bulging her belly, causing her to puff air with the force of the invasion. Only the last inch the very thick root of him the last inch that strained with sweet. painful pressure, the very limit of her channel's elasticity only that fearful extreme caused her some pain, at first.
Cathy hugged her knees and took the swift, monstrous plunges. She grunted and gasped and shook as the bed shook and glowed and lost herself in swiftly mounting pleasure. Each incredible smacking impact each total engorgement sent a shock of ecstasy like hot lightning.
She began to howl shamelessly, as the pleasure seemed to overflow her capacity to experience it. She quivered with it, quaked with it, lost all control.
Her mind cracked open and she remembered things repressed, hidden, buried. Seven year old Cathy.
Hearing her mother sobbing, crying, moaning, hearing the familiar bed sounds. Creeping, fearful, tantalized by curiosity, out of her room, seeing the other bedroom door ajar. Seeing her mother with knees drawn up, seeing her father spearing her mother with his giant man thing. Watching, paralyzed, until he stopped and pulled the long thing from her. Feeling, feeling strange. Wide-eyed, trembling with an emotion. Hearing her mother say in a reverent tone, "No man could ever satisfy me after you." And her father replying, "No woman in the world like you, Mary. I love you more than anything in the world. You're the only one."
Cold, incredulous shock. Creeping away, back to her bed. Weeping disconsolately into her pillow.
Cathy was vaguely aware that Fred had finished. She lay sprawled, legs wide, breathing fast, blinking in the darkness, fists clenched at her sides. She felt his semen oozing from her, dripping, wetting the sheet, and didn't care.
The memory of her traumatic childhood experience was once again locked away. She couldn't recall it. She knew she had sort of blanked out. The sheer overwhelming intensity of the sensations! They scared her. Her father's power over her scard her. Was she going to be a slave to that huge cock of his?
Drudge all day and a sex slave at night?
Cathy shivered and chewed her lower lip. She had to get away! She made a sound.
Fred grumbled, "What's the matter with you, girl?"
"Nothing." She cupped herself and left the bed. After a few minutes she returned with a damp washcloth and a towel and wiped and covered the semen-wet spot on the sheet. She knew she had to change the sheet again in the morning and run at least three loads in the washer.
CHAPTER FIVE
Next morning, when her father was far out in east forty mending a stretch of fence trampled down by a neighbor's bull, Cathy wandered out toward the barn.
Jerry was lying on a pad under the old Deering tractor, tinkering with its guts.
She wore jeans and a loose plaid skirt. She never wore a bra, anymore. Fred liked to be able to feel flesh when he fondled her during lunch ... or whenever.
She squatted beside Jerry's legs. He saw her, and grinned. She asked, "What's the matter with it this time?"
"Leak in the transmission. Needs a new gasket."
She made a face, imagining Fred's complaints about the cost of parts. "Why don't you cut a new gasket from a piece of linoleum?"
Jerry laughed. "Might have to. It might work."
Cathy watched. She inspected his body. He was a short boy, in his mid-twenties, red hair, gray eyes, stub nose and wide mouth. He wore an old pair of green corduroy work pants with generous patches on the knees. He worked bare chested.
She decided he was attractive, in a plain sort of way. And he was strong. His muscles were well-developed. He was tanned beautifully. Whenever he could he worked in the fields stripped to the waist.
Her eyes drifted to his loins. His soft cock was outlined in his pantsleg. She guessed he wasn't wearing underwear.
She asked, "Why are you really quitting?"
"Want to learn baking. I want to be a jack of all trades. I think being able to do a lot of different things of value will be a great advantage in the depression that's coming."
Cathy shrugged. "Daddy says the farmers've been in a depression for years."
"Um-humm. Because prices the farmer gets don't keep up with the rate the government degrades the money. Politicians have been ripping off the farmers to keep the city consumers quiet. They've been masking the real inflation rate that way."
"I don't know about that." Cathy untied his left boot.
"Hey!" Jerry smiled and kept on working. She walked her fingers up his leg to his knee. "Do you like me, Jerry? I like you."
"Sure." He glanced at her quizzically. "If you let your fingers lead you someplace you might get more than you expected."
She walked her fingers a little farther up his leg. She knew she couldn't ask him to take her with him right away. First she had to hook him, ; and the only way she knew the only thing she ; had to offer was sex. He was a college graduate. She couldn't attract him with her mind.
Cathy replied, "Maybe that's what I want." He chuckled. "I smell an ulterior motive." She couldn't fool him. She didn't have the womanly experience and he'd been around too i much. She decided to simply be honest.
"Jerry, I have to leave. I can't stand it here! I want you to take me with you, when you leave."
"Oh, yeah? Well, I can dig your wanting, but there are problems for me if I do."
"Maybe I can make it worth it." She boldly slid her hand up his thigh and began gently fondling I his cock through his pant leg.
His cock began to lengthen and harden. He I stopped tightening a transmission bolt and watched. "Maybe you can."
Cathy said, "I can." She glanced around the farmyard. She listened and could barely hear the distant thwock ... thwock ... as her father worked on the fence. He was out of sight beyond the barn.
She watched her hand massaging his covered manhood and marveled at herself. Here she was seducing the hired hand in broad daylight. She shivered and avoided his eyes.
She discovered he wasn't anywhere as long or thick as her father. Just from feeling it, hard, in his pants leg. She leaned forward and used both hands to unbuckle him and open his pants.
She had been right in guessing he wasn't wearing underwear. She said, determined, desperate to bribe him with sex, "Lift your hips."
He obeyed, and she pulled his pants down to his knees. His skin below the beltline was pale, white, traced with occasional faint blue veins. His cock was only about five inches long, like a white finger. He hadn't been circumcised at birth, and a sheath of skin pouted open to half reveal the dark pink glans.
Cathy was delighted. It was so nicely formed and ivory tinted. She said, "It's beautiful."
Jerry smiled wryly. "Can't take credit for it."
"I guess not." Cathy smiled shyly and had to force herself to begin playing with it again. She wished it was night ... or that she was under covers. She nervously looked around again. She said, "I guess we're stuck with what nature gives us."
"Some ways, yeah." He watched her play with his cock for a minute. She began pumping him. "You just going to jack me off?'
Cathy asked in a small voice, "What do you want me to do?" She was scared.
"How about sucking me off?"
She paled. "I couldn't do that!" She continued pumping him. His small cock was easy to hold and manipulate. It was very hard now, and seemed to vibrate in her moving hand. The perfect little head appeared and disappeared as she moved the skin up and down.
"We could go inside the trailer for a few minutes."
"No ... I just couldn't ... suck!" she made a face.
Jerry grinned. "No?"
Something in his tone made her look up and meet his gaze. She paled. He knew about Fred and her! She stammered, "What do you mean?"
"Meaning I walk around at night because the trailer's a hotbox until about midnight. Couple weeks ago I accidentally heard you and Fred going at it. The window was open. I didn't look in, but I sat down outside and heard it all."
Cathy stopped handling his cock. She collapsed beside him on the ground. She hid her face and wept. "Ohhhh, God. ... "
Jerry wriggled out from under the tractor. He wiped his greasy hands on a rag and pulled up his pants. "I'm going into the house for a beer. Then I'm going out to help your dad with the fence." He took two steps and turned. "Hey, I won't tell him you want to take off."
Cathy snuffled and slowly got to her feet. "I'll go in with you." She brushed dust from her jeans and shirt.
In the kitchen, Jerry sat on the big, sturdy eating table and looked out at the east forty. Fred Dietz was clearly in sight, digging a post hole.
Cathy wiped her face with a damp towel and stood with her back to Jerry, and she watched her father, too. "Did he ever say anything about it?"
"You wanting to leave?"
"No. What he makes me do at night."
"Not exactly. He hints at it. He shows that big hose every chance he gets and says there isn't a girl around who can resist him, bar none. And he says it like he means even you."
"I hate him!"
"Ummmm." Jerry swigged his can and flicked his gaze over Cathy's body, then out across the huge field to her distant father. "But he turns you on, doesn't her?"
"No!"
"I listened to you two more than once. You're a highly sexed girl. You've just got a hell of a guilt problem."
"I'm not guilty of ANYTHING! I didn't kill my mother, or want her dead! I didn't!" She turned her with him and get away clean.
She muttered, "All right." She pulled one of the old cane-seat wooden chairs around and was about to sit when Jerry motioned her up ... to stand before him. He said, "I want to kiss and play a little, first. We can both watch ol' Fred while we get each I other hot." He unsnapped the front of her jeans and ran the zipper. He hooked thumbs under the waistband of her panties, too, and skinned both garments down over her slim hips, leaving her naked below her skirt.
"Now we open your top." He unbuttoned and spread the shirt. "Very nice little breasts. I like small, stick-out tits like this."
He put his hands on her warm flesh. Cathy tensed for a few seconds at his touch ... then relaxed. He, too, was gentle and knowing. Her nipples popped out, hardened, and tingled. N Jerry pushed her shirt off her shoulders and it slipped down her arms and fell to the floor. She was all but naked, with her panties and jeans bunched at her ankles. She didn't like being exposed like this. She closed her eyes and said, "Keep watching!"
"I am, don't worry." He turned her and said, "Sit on the table beside me." He lifted her.
Cathy opened her eyes and checked on her brother. She closed her eyes again as Jerry bent her and started kissing and licking her breasts hot little nipples. In spite of herself she arched her back and made a small pleasure sound.
"Like that? Mmmmm." He suckled on a nipple and lashed it expertly with his tongue. His fingers kneaded the other nipple ... rolled it ... twisted it teasingly.
Cathy's insides heated and simmered. She felt sticky between her legs. Her naked thighs pressed together and relaxed, pressed and relaxed.
Jerry raised his head and kissed her throat tenderly. She caught her breath with a sudden pang of affection for him.
Then he claimed her warm, pouting lips. His strong hand cradled the back of her head ... his other hand cupped and molded a breast.
Cathy was impelled to seek his cock with a small, questing hand. She found it and played with the head. She used fingertips to gently raise and lower the skin over the glans.
Jerry's tongue invaded her mouth. His fingers dug into her scalp. His hand tightened on her breast. He moaned.
Then his hand left her breast and slid down hen tensed belly to her loins. His fingers explored the sparse blonde fuzz and then pressed down into her crotch. a
For an instant she resisted keeping little thighs closed tight because she was ashamed the stickiness he'd find. But then she surrendered to his tongue and to her own intense sexual needs. Her thighs loosened and parted. Jerry's curious fingers covered her wet slit. His middle finger pressed lightly and her pussy lips seemed to part for it, welcome it, and he tenderly explored the warm, wet valley, seeking first the tiny, hardened pinhead that could bring so much pleasure, then the inner mouth, the opening to her depths.
She quivered when his fingertip eeled over and around her exquisitely sensitive clitoris. She responded to his seeking tongue and fenced, causing even more excitement for them both. Her fingers trembled on his cock. She was breathing faster, deeper. Her nostrils flared.
Cathy felt his finger enter her vagina and sink in, felt his touching the inner folds, the inner surfaces.
She was breathless. She pulled her mouth free of his. She gasped, "Why don't you just. . .put it inside me?" She squeezed his cock. She looked out the window and saw her father still way out there by the fence.
Pounding, thrusting.
Cathy froze as she realized what she was thinking and how strong was her need. No! No! She tore her mouth from Jerry's and turned away, pushing his hand away. She buried her face in her hands, and huddled, shaking, sobbing.
"What's the matter?"
She couldn't tell him.
He waited. He drank the rest of his beer.
She wanted him to go away! But she realized now, even more clearly, that her only hope for redemption and a different life was to get away! And he was her best way out of this terrible way of life.
Cathy shivered with the knowledge that if she stayed with Fred she'd end up worse than he ... a totally depraved, sex-mad slut, slave to his giant cock, slave to her insatiable loins. Maybe there would come a time when he wasn't enough.; Maybe she'd end up the county whore ... a hot-eyed, slovenly, disease-ridden cunt who'd take any man. Anytime. Orgies!
After a moment of snuffling and gulping, Cathy took a deep, shaky breath and straightened up. "I'm sorry. I guess I've been going through some kind of nervous breakdown for a month or so." She slipped off the table and washed her face with cold water at the sink. Fred was still out at the fence line.
Cathy put aside the hand towel and smiled weakly at Jerry. "Where were we?" She boosted herself back into the kitchen table beside him.
Jerry smiled in return and put his hands on her again. . .her breasts ... her open loins. "We all go through changes. You're going through a bunch. Just go with the flow. Certain things have to happen, that's all."
Cathy nodded. She found it easier to touch his cock, to play with it. She really liked him, more and more. "Just like fate."
Jerry shrugged and turned her face and kissed her again.
She enjoyed this kiss. She opened her mouth and took his questing tongue and met it with her own. She welcomed his hand to her hot, slippery crotch, and shivered with pleasure as his fingers stroked up and down in the gooey slit and then went into her depths.
She played with his cock as cunningly as she could, gently, with fingertips, feeling it harden again, become vibrant with the pressure of blood and the thudding of his powerful heart. I They both became oxygen starved and had to break the passionate, deep kiss. Jerry had three fingers into her and was manipulating her tiny, hard pinned clitoris with a knowing thumb. She was trembling, close to an orgasm.
Cathy whispered shakily, "I'll do what you want?"
"Okay. Want to me to finish you this way, first?"
She nodded shamelessly. Yet she felt shame, and guilt. She peeked through almost closed eyelids and made sure her father was still in sight, still far away. Then she gave herself to the lust that had turned her belly and loins to a sweet furnace.
Jerry said tenderly, "Lean back ... lay back on the table." He leaned back with her and cradled her head on his arm. His fingers continued a deep, thrilling, rhythmic penetration. His thumb pressed and moved, circled.
The pleasure deepened, permeated her guts, spread ... became more and more intense. It was a golden, breathless glow. It was urgent and so beautiful. She could just let it happen ... let the pleasure build and build.
Cathy seemed to become more beautiful. Her face radiated the pleasure. She panted. Her stomach tightened ... tensed. Her hands clenched. She had been playing with his cock, but forgot as he orgasm shook her and caused her to give small urgent cries of delight. In the throes of her climax she blindly sought Jerry's mouth for a steamy, moaning kiss.
Then she relaxed. Her stomach quieted. Her thighs quivered and closed on his moving hand. She dropped her head back to his arm and still with eyes closed she smiled. But then her smile faltered and she whispered to herself, half-aloud, "I shouldn't like it so much! It's not. ... "
Jerry laughed. "Sure it is. It's nice as hell. It's good for your body and good for your soul. An orgasm a day keeps the doctor away."
Cathy flushed. "I could have a dozen a day!"
"Okay." He grinned. "Have them. There'll be years when you're eighty-five when you won't have but one a week. It'll even out over your lifetime."
Cathy laughed, delighted with him, for a moment free of guilt and fear and unhappiness. "I like you!"
"I like you." He took his hand from her loins and sat up. He glanced out of the window. "Fred's still out there. We have a few minutes more."
"I know." She sighed and knew she had to suck him off now. And she had to really make him happy. She got off the table and pulled up her panties and jeans. She put her shirt back on. As he had suggested earlier, she pulled a chair around and sat facing the gorge of his white thighs, the small white pole of his cock, the taut, fuzzy sack.
She hitched the chair closer. She leaned. She put her hands on his genitals. She squirmed on the chair, and frowned and couldn't bring herself to lean forward and take him into her mouth. She blinked fast. Her hands clenched.
He was watching her. It was daylight! Even if she closed her eyes he would watch!
She played with his cock and chewed her lips and scowled ... and couldn't do it!
Jerry seemed to divine her problem. He said, "Hand me that apron over there."
Puzzled, Cathy obeyed.
He tied it around his waist. His lap to his knees was covered. His small cock poked up. He lifted the apron from the bottom and said, "Go ahead. This'll cover your head and I won't see a thing."
Cathy felt humiliated in a different way. But she knew it would work. She leaned forward and easily guided his cock into her mouth. The apron settled over her head. She closed her eyes.
She pressed her lips tight around the head and suckled. She felt his naked thighs tense against her shoulders and heard his breathing catch.
She took more cock into her mouth. She was curious to see if she could manage all of it. She took her time, letting her wet lips taste a little more every few seconds, every few sweeps of her lips down the thin shaft.
Jerry appreciated what she was doing. He started moaning and grunting. And when she tried something he especially liked, he whispered, "Oh, yeah ... That's fantastic! Do that more. ... "
Cathy came to enjoy sucking him. When her lips kissed the kinky dark red coils of his pubic hair at the base of his cock, the head was just tickling the back of her throat.
She moved her head up and down slowly, taking all of him, teasing with her tongue, sucking with her cheeks and mouth. She had him squirming after a few minutes. His moans and heartfelt exclamations were constant.
She shivered with a weird delight a power joy. She found she could play his body his reactions, like a musical instrument: this tongue stroke and nibble produced a certain sound from him ... that long suckle and tongue flip produced a different sound ... a twisting of her head and a slow tongue slither the length of his shaft brought still another sound. And there were other moves, uses of her hands and fingers with her mouth and tongue and lips. There were variations.
Cathy became absorbed in her new game and was attempting to wring a scale of sounds from his pleasure-wracked body, when his cock reached a vibrant hardness and his thighs tightened even more, and his breathing was fast, deep.
He gasped, "I'm coming!"
She made the decision without thinking. She kept on sucking, and used his favorite suctioning with tongue strokes technique to make his pleasure all the more intense and exquisite.
She kept her eyes tight closed and tried to think as his cock jerked and leaped in her mouth and his semen spurted and splashed into her throat and caused her to swallow spasmodically.
The convulsive, forced swallowing while his cock was buried in her mouth caused him even more mind-blowing ecstasy. He grunted and howled and sobbed. He jerked and twisted on the table, and hunched over and grabbed her working head with too-strong hands. His fingers clenched in her hair in spite of the intervening apron.
But she liked it! The power to bring a man to this kind of helplessness. To wring such naked cries from him. She was amazed at herself ... and him.
The thick spewings of semen diminished. His cock jerked again and again and only a few more drops emerged. He moaned, "Oh, wow, oh wow. ... "
Then he lifted her head up from his loins. The apron fell back to cover his wet, softening cock. He was smiling, shaking his head in wonder and admiration. "You're really something else, Cathy. That's the best blow-job I've ever had!"
She couldn't meet his eyes for more than an instant at a time. She loved the compliment, but it said she was a depraved woman, a girl with an obscene talent. She stood up and turned quickly to the window. They were still safe. Fred was now carefully stringing barbed wire. She rinsed her mouth and spat.
She said, still looking out, "Does that mean I'm worth taking along?"
"Oh, damned right!" He got off the table and pulled up his pants.
She turned. "When can we leave?"
"Well, you heard me and Fred last night. Two weeks."
"I don't want to wait two weeks! I want to leave now! Tonight!"
Jerry made a "helpless" face and shrugged his shoulders. "I've got to give him time to find another hand. I have my word."
"Would he give you two weeks notice if he was going to fire you?"
"I don't know ... maybe."
Cathy surprised herself with, "Bullshit! You're just chickening out now. You got your suck off and now you don't want to keep your end of the bargain!
"Hey, nothing was agreed!"
"You think you can keep on getting 'the best blow-job' you've ever had every day from now on and then sneak off without me!"
"No! What the hell's going on here? I said I'd take you when I left, and I will! But I've got to keep my other promises, too! You wouldn't trust me two inches if I broke my word to your dad and ran off with your right away."
"Well I don't care! I've got to get away now! He's going to come stomping into this kitchen in a while and want lunch and want to grope me and maybe I hate it! I hate him! I want you to take me NOW!"
"I'm sorry, Cathy. I can't." He was angry. "If you can't hack it around her another goddamned hour, all you have to do is take off. Take a hike. Stick out your thumb. You'll make it. You might have to put out to a couple guys on the way, but you'll make it out of here."
"Thanks a lot! Thanks for the advice! Be a slut."
"Okay, thumb your way and carry a long hatpin. Do you have any money."
"A few dollars."
Jerry shrugged again. "You do what you have to do. I've got to get out there and earn my keep." He turned to the door.
"What a great moralist you are after you've got your boss's daughter to suck you off!"
Jerry started to retort, said "Shit!" and strode out the house.
CHAPTER SIX
Fred Dietz came clumping into the house an hour later and threw his sweat-stained hat onto the sofa. He sank down beside it. He bellowed, "Bring me a beer!"
Cathy dreaded getting near him. She gave the soup one last stir, turned down the heat and got a 12 oz. can of beer from the fridge.
As she neared Fred, in the living room, and handed him the beer, she smelled him, rank with sweat and dirt. Sweat glistened in his crewcut hair.
He pulled the tab and swigged long and deep.
"Ahh..." He took another long swig. "That fuckin' bull does that again, I'll shoot his balls off." He laughed. He pulled a large red bandana from a pocket and wiped his face. He turned his attention to Cathy. "Come over here. I wanta feel those tits."
"The soup needs stirring."
"Fuck the soup. It'll wait a minute." He gestured menacingly for her to come to him.
Cathy had to obey. When she got within reach he dragged her down beside him. His hands were under her shirt in seconds, fondling and squeezing her naked breasts. She kept her face down, slightly turned away.
He chuckled with satisfaction and nuzzled her neck. His day-old whiskers sent shivers through-her. Her breasts were heating up, tingling, glowing. Her nipples became hot pebbles under his sly, tickling fingers.
She breathed faster and hated the simmering lust that had bloomed in her belly. She wanted to reach over and feel his cock, to see if it was getting huge and hard. She curled her fingers to fists and kept them rigidly at her sides.
Fred whispered in her ear, "I'm gonna get some food in me, then, I'm gonna get some long and hard meat into you." He laughed and pushed her easily to her feet. "Get my lunch ready." He gave her rump a slap. "I'm gonna wash up."
Cathy went quickly into the kitchen, her loins pulsing with a syrupy heat. She hated herself ... hated her need ... but was eager for what he had promised. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she ladled a big bowlful of thick vegetable soup and made a thick sandwich of cheese, ham and rye bread. She found herself humming as she popped another can of beer for him and set it on the kitchen table. She quickly wiped her eyes as she heard him leave the bathroom.
As he ate, Cathy stood by the sink, nibbling a piece of ham, sipping a beer of her own. There was a roiling weight in the pit of her stomach. She darted nevous glances out of the window. Where was Jerry? Was he creeping up to the house, creeping to beneath the bedroom window, seeking to hear Fred do it to her?
She said, "Why don't you let Jerry go right away? Why keep him?"
"Next two weeks are cabbage harvest time. Need somebody, and good help is scarce. He figured to stay through the cabbages, and I appreciate that. Kid's got some sense of responsibility. That's rare these days."
She bit back words that would have blown the whole situation. Just an hour ago Jerry's rump had been where Fred's plate was now, and she sat in that same chair, sucking Jerry's little cock.
And, in a few minutes...
Fred drank off the last of his third beer. He belched and smiled. He looked over to her and said matter-of-factly, "Get your pants off!"
Cathy bit her lower lip, nodded, and started to leave the kitchen.
"Hold it! Where you goin'? "
"The bedroom."
He laughed and smirked and winked. "Gonna fuck ya here, right on this table. It's just about the right height."
"No! Please, no. Not here!"
"Sure, right here! Because that's what I want, girl, and what I want goes! And you don't start telling me where or when I can stuff your tight little pussy! I'll screw you out on top of the barn at high noon if I take a good strong mind to! You understand that?" His tone was mean.
Cathy nodded, head down. She silently took off her jeans and panties. At his gesture she took off her shirt, too, and stood quivering with shame, totally naked, in the strong sunlight that poured through the windows.
Fred nodded with satisfaction. "You do have a nice little body on you." He pushed the dishes, bowls and empty beer cans aside on the kitchen table. He kicked the chair back. "Get your ass up here now!"
She edged reluctantly toward the table. He cursed, grabbed her, hoisted her up and pushed her down on her back. He pushed her legs up and said, "Keep 'em spread." He dropped his overalls and handled his giant cock in self appreciation for a few seconds. He looked down at himself, grinned, and guided the big, purplish head to Cathy's slit.
She covered her face with both hands, knowing he saw the oozing juices of her wanting and readiness. She gasped as he entered and pushed deep. Her insides seemed to come alive with the monstrous invasion. She could never really become accustomed to the incredible size of him ... the terrifying and wonderful length of him. Each time he came into her body was an experience! Each time she was scared and delighted, amazed and appalled that she could take such a huge cock.
He thrust slowly at first, his hands making soft handfuls of her lovely breasts. He tweaked her hard little nipples and laughed as she gasped.
She hated having him looking down at her with a light on, or in the daylight. He could see her reactions. She couldn't have taken her hands from her face. But she couldn't cover her mouth ... she had to breathe! She needed more and more air. Her body demanded it. The fire in her guts demanded it!
Now, Fred was gripping her narrow waist with his big, calloused hands, and thrusting harder, deeper ... deeper!
Cathy tried as usual to resist the hot, pounding pleasure that pulsed through her guts to the beat of his gargantuan penetrations.
She grunted with the jolting and the battering. The table joints creaked. She sucked air and whimpered and grunted like a satisfied pig as he fucked her.
Her belly muscles flexed and rippled. Her belly bloated and sucked in, as his giant cock slid in and out of her juicy channel, thrusting up to the spasming entrance to her womb.
Cathy fisted her hands, and tried to stuff them into her gaping mouth, to stifle the screams of ecstasy she could not control. Her eyes flicked open but she was unseeing. Her hips jerked in unending greed as he powered his huge organ with smacking, jarring thrusts.
She wasn't aware of his coming, at first. Gradually, she returned to reality in a fizzing tide of slackening rapture to find him slowing, panting, muttering to himself, a lazy, soft smile changing his tough face for a few brief seconds.
Cathy flushed and threw her arms over her face. It had never been so good! She wanted it again. She wanted him to stay and fuck her all afternoon!
Her skin puckered with goose bumps. She wanted to vomit. She didn't understand how she could feel these terribly conflicting emotions at the same time.
She had to do something. She had to get away. She had to end this awful, unnatural relationship or in another month or two she would be unable to make a change. She'd be a total slave to him. She'd have his children. And if one of them was a girl in eighteen years he'd want to break in that child of his. He'd find a way of making it sound right and proper.
"I want some lovin', damn it, and I'll get it! Come in here to me."
Her heart sank. The pit of her stomach turned queasy and her loins turned itchy. She lowered her head and whispered, "Oh, God, help me."
She clicked off the bathroom light and went slowly back to the bedroom. She was wearing her robe.
She wondered if Jerry was crouched outside their window, listening. Did he masturbate while listening?
Cathy slipped off her robe with her back turned to the bed, and quickly slipped, naked, under the covers.
Fred turned off the bedside light. "Yeah, now..." His big, rough, yet gentle hands took possession of her small body. He began licking a nipple, and a finger wheedled its way into her body as her thighs betrayed her by loosening and opening for more.
Cathy watched the half-open window, the curtains puffing from the fitful night breeze, and whispered to Fred, "Where did you get the idea for using the kitchen table like that this afternoon?"
"Jerry tol' me about doin' it that way. Said he had it from a college girl one time at his frat house in the kitchen. Sounded good. like he said, it's just the right height." He squeezed Cathy's left nipple between thumb and forefinger. The sensitive button of flesh flared with hot, itchy pain. He wondered, "What's a frat house?"
In spite of herself, Cathy had to ask, "What else did he say you ought to try?"
Fred chuckled lewdly. "Something I'm just about to test out. He's been around, that kid. They really learn a lot in colleges these days." He laughed.
Cathy lay dreading the next few minutes. "What is it?"
"Well, now, you sit up and rest your head and shoulders on the headboard. Put your pillow behind your head."
Puzzled, she obeyed. "What are you going to do?" She clutched the covers to her. The sheet only barely covered her breasts.
Fred ruthlessly tore the bedclothes from her fingers and flung them to the foot of the bed. He reared up and straddled her slim, naked body. He climbed on top of her chest.
Cathy knew then what he wanted. His huge cock, half-hard, lay on her chest just below her chin. Fred loomed over her. He gripped the top of the headboard. "Gonna fuck you in the mouth, girl. You suck while I fuck." He laughed. "I'm a poet."
She couldn't protest or refuse. He'd beat her. Abuse her. She had her plans and making him mad now, would maybe foul things up. She wanted him exhausted, in a deep, deep sleep, when she made her break.
Cathy grimly determined to let him do this to her. And she would do her best to get it over with as soon as possible. That meant sucking as skillfully and artfully as she knew how.
But she was afraid of him in this position. He could stuff her mouth full of his huge meat and strangle her. She whispered, "Let me use my hands too. It'll be better for you." She squirmed and wormed her arms and hands inside the prison of his knees and thighs.
She grasped his cock and played with it in the darkness, he loomed over her like a black giant. She roamed one hand up onto his washboard-flat, ridged belly. Then down along his corded, thick thighs. In the dimness, she saw him peering down at her. She shrank and curdled in her mind. She begged, "Please don't watch."
"That's half the fun." He jerked his hips slightly. His cock was thrust forward in her hand. "Get it in your mouth. Start sucking!"
Cathy closed her eyes and grasped his long, fat, hard cock with both hands and guided the big head to her lips. She knew he watched, for he pushed and the head and an inch or two more, was thrust into her mouth.
She sucked fervently, using tongue and lips as he flexed his hips and slid the thick, rigid organ in and out, with short strokes.
He hummed with pleasure and muttered and whispered to himself. He reached down and patted the top of her head. "Real Knebel woman..."
It took longer than usual for him to get close to coming. The fuck at lunch had taken the edge off his usual urgency.
Cathy used her hands, too, as he fucked her mouth. She played with his sack and stroked the skin as the shaft moved back and forth.
When his pleasure reached a certain intensity, Fred became careless and greedy for more, deeper pleasure. He began butting his cock to the back of her throat.
Cathy choked and gagged on the bulk, but he didn't stop. Her throat spasmed and somehow it clasped the head of his driving cock, briefly, and he felt it, and wanted to feel it again.
He shoved in until she was choking and pressed more and more until her throat was clenching and flexing, straining for air. He crowed with lust and approaching climax.
Cathy beat at him with her hands, but he was impervious. He pulled out almost all the way, allowing her to get a good, deep breath, and to cough for a second, and then he shoved his cock into her throat again and shouted with pleasure as the convulsing muscles brought him off.
Cathy fought sideways and managed to swallow the jets of semen that inundated her mouth. She sucked his glans with relief, glad, grateful, that he wasn't trying to bury his entire cock in her mouth and throat. She mentally cursed Jerry for his suggesting this to Fred.
Fred pumped the last of his outpouring into her mouth and then sat back on her belly, crushing her into the bed. "That was good, let me tell you. Good! Got to do that a lot!"
"You almost choked me to death!"
"Not-likely. You're still breathin', aintcha? When you start going limp on me and turnin' blue, that's when I'll pull out and let you breathe." He laughed and got off of her. He flopped onto his back beside her. "Shit, that was great!"
Cathy thought to herself, Shit, that was awful! She was even more resolved to leave this night, as soon as he was asleep.
She crawled from the bed, naked, and took up her robe. She went to the bathroom to rinse her mouth and gargle. Her throat was sore. She vowed to never, ever let that happen to her again! She'd die before she'd get back into that bed and let him mouth fuck her again. He was just too big to take that way, and he was too selfish and inconsiderate.
Cathy waited in the bathroom a long time.
When she returned, silently, to the bedroom, he was snoring. She went through his pockets and found the pickup keys.
She took a deep, resolute breath. Now or never. There could be no turning back. She took her jeans and shirt and socks and shoes and went down the hall to her former bedroom.
She dressed, picked up her bag, and went silently out of the house.
Cathy walked across the farmyard to the trailer. There was a light on inside. She knocked lightly on the door. Jerry opened the door a crack and then more. He gaped at her. He wore only his briefs. He noticed her small suitcase.
"What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you for a minute."
He hesitated, then turned away. She climbed up into the small trailer. He had retreated to the bed. He sprawled.
She said, "That was a lousy thing to do . . .tell him how great it is to do it in my mouth!"
Jerry half smiled. "He tried it with you tonight, huh?"
"You know he did. You were listening, weren't you, under the window?"
"No." He nodded at her suitcase. "Going for a long walk?"
"No, I'm taking the truck. I just ... I'm here to see if you want to come along."
Jerry grunted and shook his head. "Two problems. I don't have any money. I have to put in my time and get a final paycheck. And, second, the pickup's got a clogged up gas line, and It'll take me a couple of hours to fix it."
Cathy's heart sank. "No! I don't believe you!" She started for the door.
"Hey, you idiot! Wait a minute! You start grinding that battery down and you'll wake him up. That truck won't start, I'm not shitting you!"
"I don't care! I'm not staying here another day! He might wake up and want ... that again."
Tears coursed down her face. "I HATE HIM! I'd like to kill him like I. . . " Her eyes flared. She went white. " ... like a dog. He's a beast. He's crazy. He's my father, and he ... you know! You put him up to things ... new sex techniques." She picked up a sex magazine and threw it at Jerry, who ducked. "That you see in awful magazines like that! They shouldn't be allowed to be printed!"
Jerry stared at her. "That's crap. I mean, mags like this, they're resented and feared by a lot of people. So, following that lovely reasoning, why not ban anything a lot of people think shouldn't be published ... like crime news. like certain economic viewpoints. like certain blasphemous religious dogmas. like murder mysteries, because a lot of writers work out some pretty ingenious ways to kill their victims, and some ready might try it on a wife or husband or rich uncle. Can you dig that? Or ban books and magazines about wrestling or boxing or self-defense systems. Better yet, ban all information about guns."
"You know what I mean!"
"Sure I do, but you don't. You want to ban a book or a magazine that presents sex and sexual fantasies. Aids to masturbation. Shit, fewer of those sex books sold than the cheapest how-to mystery."
"Oh, I don't care about your awful sex fantasies! I'll bet you never got on top of a girl and pumped in her mouth. I'll bet you were just lying to him."
Jerry said, "No, I've tried just about all the variations of sex. You know, you hear about them, and your girl has, too, so you try them, to see if it's all it's cracked up to be, and you find out if it works for you, if it turns you, or her, on."
"What if it hurts? What if it's dangerous?"
"Then you don't do it, or take precautions. But there are always nuts and psychopaths around who carry things to extremes ... in sex, politics, money ... you name it. A political leader gets wiped out by a bunch of monomaniacal, solipsist, nihilist fanatics and people don't go around beating drums to burn political science texts and jail political science professors and writers."
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Cathy was sobbing. "I don't care about any of that! I just think you're contemptible! And I'm leaving."
"Okay, but don't try the truck. Believe me on that, at least."
"Where can I go?"
He shrugged. "Got any relatives?"
"No ... just mother's folks. But. . . "
"Or you could go back to the house, get some sleep, and wait till I fix the truck."
Cathy's skin crawled at the idea of climbing back into that bed ... of enduring Fred's morning pawing.
She shuddered. "No. I won't do it. I'll just walk."
She picked up her bag. "I hope I never see you again!" she said to Jerry as she left the trailer, vindictively leaving the door wide open.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cathy walked two hours till she came to Knebel Gulch Road.
Ten minutes later she trudged up to the farm where her mother had been born and raised.
In the moonlight, surrounded by a littered yard and a shaggy stand of pine, the old ramshackle clapboard house was dishearteningly small and poor looking. The barn was small and leaning dangerously far to the left.
Cathy was heartened by a dim, flickering light in the single attic window. Was it candlelight? Didn't they have electricity?
She knew it had to be past one A.M., but the night had turned cold and she had no place else to go. At least they'd let her sleep in a chair and maybe give her breakfast.
She walked up to the house, up onto the creaky porch, and knocked on the rattly door. One of the small panes of glass in the door had been broken and covered over by cardboard.
Nothing happened. She waited for long minutes, then knocked again, harder. The door shook on loose hinges. She wondered if it was locked.
Finally, the door was opened by a little naked girl child who stood in the darkness and scowled at her. "What do you want?"
"I'm Cathy Dietz. I'm Mary Knebel's daughter. I. ... " She tried to remember names from those visiting at her mother's funeral. The Knebels had come in a big, ancient flat-bed truck and they'd been all girls of varying ages up to sixteen or so, and there had been one older woman and the Old Man. That's what everybody had called him: the Old Man. Bearded, skinny as a rail, with piercing sky-blue eyes. His teeth had been all rotten.
Cathy managed, "I want to see the Old Man. It's very important."
The child brushed back unruly blonde hair. "What about?"
"I guess ... I want to stay here for a while."
The child giggled. "Old Man'll like that." She turned away and disappeared, leaving Cathy standing at the door. The door was left open.
Cathy was cold. She edged inside, into the darkness of the house, and closed the door. The house stank of cooking and dirt and sour clothing.
She heard the mutter of voices from the back of the house, and she saw a faint movement at the top of the stairs.
She waited, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that there were three girls watching her from the attic landing. They appeared to be in their early teens. They wore plain, single piece night gowns. They whispered to each other.
She was in the main room of the house. There were shadowy couches and chairs and tables. A large fireplace took up most of the left wall. It held the glowing embers of an earlier fire.
Finally, a door opened in the back of the house and a light appeared. Cathy saw the Old Man come into the hallway with a candle. He wore a tattered robe held loosely closed by a length of cinched rope. He walked toward her briskly, holding the candle far forward, his bright blue eyes glittering in the flickering yellow light.
He stopped before her, candle high, peering at her. He nodded and smiled and his teeth were like rotted stumps. "I remember you, Cathy. True to the Knebel bloodline." His fierce eyes raked her body. "Granddaughter. Good marriage. What you doing here?"
"I just want to stay here ... maybe for a couple days ... I had to leave. I couldn't stand it any more. Since mother died ... he's been making me ... making me take her place. Cathy's voice broke.
"Yuh. Figures. You pregnant?"
"No." Cathy noticed a young woman in the hallway. The girl had come from the same room as the Old Man. The girl wore only bikini panties. She was lovely, with the graceful slimness of a dancer. Her breasts were high and full and wobbled as she moved. Her hair was long and blonde. All the girls in the house were blonde.
The girl stopped close behind the Old Man and stared curiously at Cathy with dull blue eyes.
The Old Man nodded. "You kin stay. Suppose there's room on a mattress up in the attic with the girls." He peered around at the three at the landing. "You make room for her!" He turned back to Cathy. "We'll have us a good talk in the morning about your situation." He stroked his blonde, gray-streaked beard and looked her up and down again. "Yuh. We need some new blood around here."
He turned away and saw the nubile young woman behind him. "Git back to the bed, Marthy. You still got to finish your lesson."
He shooed her down the hall, paying no more attention to Cathy. In a few seconds Cathy was alone again in darkness.
She looked uncertainly up the stairs. She said to the girls, "I could sleep down her on the sofa."
One of the girls said, "Naw, naw, it's got busted springs. We got room now that Faith is married off. Come on up."
Cathy regripped the handle of her small suitcase and mounted the rickety stairs.
The attic was low and floored with a worn old cheap rug. The girls had fixed it up with gaudy wallpaper nobody could have wanted, and hung some pictures of movie stars from old magazines. There was a fold-out male nude from a woman's sex magazine. He was very muscular and well-hung.
Two double-bed size mattresses lay on the floor with sheets and a single blanket on each. The closet was a rod that ran from one slope of the roof to the other, with a curtain hung before it.
The candle Cathy had seen from outside was stuck in a small dish. It guttered and gave off a lot of smoke. She realized it was homemade.
The girls introduced themselves. There was Chris, with a square face and full lips and a stocky, square angled body.
Debra was the beauty, with a sensuous oval face, a small, well-rounded body, and small, delicate hands.
Alicia was short, too, and pretty, with the narrow face of the Old Man. She was about six months gone in pregnancy.
The girls talked in whispers, because the Old Man could hear them otherwise. His bedroom was almost directly under them.
Cathy was very tired and sleepy. It was decided she would sleep on the right hand mattress with Chris. Debra and Alicia shared the other.
As the girls quieted, sounds from below became clearer. The Old Man ... Marthy ... The candle had been blown out.
Chris edged close under the sheet and blanket and breathed into Cathy's ear, "Want to play a little?"
"What? Play what?"
"Tingle, we play it all the time up here. It's one thing he doesn't teach us to do in bed." Chris's hand crept onto Cathy's naked left breast.
Cathy tensed. But she didn't stop Chris's hand from its soft, gentle seeking and caressing. She had never done anything like this with a girl! But she'd heard about two girls fooling around together. She didn't think it could do any harm. The most they could do was maybe finger each other.
And, she thought, she wouldn't have six inches of big, fat cock rammed down her throat till she nearly choked to death! And she couldn't get pregnant from a finger.
So Cathy sighed and turned toward Chris and put a hand lightly in turn on Chris's breasts. She touched through the girl's thin nightgown, gently moving the much-washed cotton over large, big-nippled mounds.
Cathy heard Debra and Alicia whispering, giggling, and moving under their sheet and blanket.
While they played with each other, Cathy and Chris exchanged confidences. Soon Cathy knew everything about the Old Man, his girl farm, what he taught them in his bedroom almost each night, and what her fate might be if she stayed.
And soon Chris's nightgown was off and the two girls clung naked to each other in the darkness, soaking in each other's warmth, stroking each other's back and cheeks and thighs.
Then Chris shifted to her back and pulled the sheet down to expose her large, soft breasts to the faint moonlight that sifted in through the small window. She whispered, "Kiss my titties, Cathy. Please. I really like it."
Cathy saw that Debra was ardently suckling on Alicia's bulbous breasts. The other girl's weren't giggling now. Alicia's delicate hand was moving between Debra's open thighs, causing soft moans and even more passionate suckling.
Cathy didn't like doing it in the open, but complied with Chris's wish. She toyed tenderly with the large, rubbery nipples, and was drawn, instinctively, to draw them in between her lips ... to lick and suck them.
"Oh, yes, I love it," Chris became restless. She pushed her breasts up more. She writhed slowly, breathing deeper. And after long moments of sighing pleasure, she whispered, "I'll give you a treat in a minute if you'll. ... " She urged
Cathy's hand to her open, waiting crotch.
Cathy had expected there would be more. This. And she willingly explored the girl's loins. The warm, fuzzy mound ... the warmer slit, moist and ready ... the slick inner gorge, and the sensitive little button of flesh that caused a sharp, delighted inhalation of breath when touched ... and the opening to her depths with its soft-slick rippled inner walls.
Cathy experimentally pressed a finger in as far as she could. Chris was deep, too. Cathy tried a second finger, too.
Chris stopped her. "No, don't. I don't like finger-dipping. Just diddle my button. That's what brings me over."
Cathy nodded and caressed the small, turgid clitoris. Her finger rode over and around and over the taut little organ in warm stickiness. Faster.
Chris's breathing speeded, too. Her nipple hardened in Cathy's sucking mouth. She half sighed, half moaned. Her hips surged. Her hands clutched at Cathy's arm and thigh, gripping.
Chris's belly jumped and sucked. She caught her breath in a series of sharp inhalations. Her loins bucked against Cathy's clinging hand. Cathy knowingly kept her finger moving on the girl's hardened, vibrant clitoris.
Then Chris went limp slowly, sagging, quieting. Sighing.
Cathy slowed her finger, then when she judged the moment right, gently pulled her hand away.
Chris surprised Cathy by leaning close, embracing her and kissing her on the lips. An open kiss, but not a passionate one. "Thank you! Thank you!" She hugged Cathy tightly. To the other girls she whispered loudly, "She really knows how to make you tingle."
Cathy flushed in the darkness. She wondered fearfully if she had some kind of instinctive, obscene talent for sex. Men ... girls. ...
Chris kissed Cathy again, and whispered, "Now I'll give you that treat." She eased Cathy to her back and began feasting on Cathy's small breasts and nipples.
Cathy wondered how she would react to having a girl kiss and touch in private places ... and was vaguely alarmed at the quickness of the physical responses ... the tickling, glowing excitement that opened up in her breasts and caused a similar itch of need between her thighs.
Cathy expected Chris to do for her what she had for Chris. But Chris's idea of a treat was something else. Chris spent five or ten minutes loving up Cathy's breasts and in delicately running inquisitive fingers over Cathy's belly, thighs, and mound ... yet never seeking to penetrate the oozing slit.
Cathy was glowing, her belly ached for penetration. Her loins pulsed with need Chris was teasing her to a very high level of excitement.
Cathy whispered breathlessly. "Please ... do it to me." She meant masturbation ... fingers.
Chris giggled. "Ummm. I guess you're ready, all right." And she slipped under the covers ... moved with experience and assurance ... urged Cathy to raise her knees, to part them wide ... and moved into place.
Cathy frowned in the darkness as she felt Chris make these moves ... and relaxed a bit when she felt the girl's fingers toying with her slit, parting it.
She gasped as she felt Chris's hair tickling her inner thighs, and felt the girl's hot breath on sensitive, open flesh, and gasped with surprise and shock and amazement and mingled revulsion as she felt the first adroit exploration of the girl's agile, darting tongue.
Cathy made an abortive move to push Chris's head away but stopped when the flickering tongue found her clitoris. "Oh!"
Cathy froze. A new world of sensation and delight was opening for her. It was depraved but she liked it! She couldn't resist it!
Even in the near total darkness she covered her face with both hands. She hissed with pleasure as Chris discovered and concentrated on that certain magic spot.
She heard the other girls doing this, too. A liquidy sound of mouth and tongue. She was bold enough to look sideways and could barely see a suggestive bulking and moving of forms and bedding. Was it Debra who was doing it to Alicia?
Was it Alicia who was moaning so meaningfully?
And from below the Old Man's loud groans. Marthy was performing her lesson well. Was he making her do it over and over until she got it just right?
Cathy abandoned herself to the electric pleasure Chris's technique gave her. The tongue was like a darting, intelligent little bird. The approaching ecstasy came like a furtive little mouse scurrying from corner to corner, closer, closer. Now it was a cat creeping closer to an unsuspecting bird; crouched, inching forward.
Now, oh, now! It was a tiger! It possessed her! The incredible rapture had her body and soul!
Cathy thrashed and whimpered, shamed and shameless. She fisted her mouth, eyes tight closed, thighs wide open, belly surging, jumping, rocking Chris's head.
Cathy was filled with that special kind of golden lightning that can only be known in this way, from tongue-on-clitoris.
Too soon it was fading. Yet there was a secret inner knowledge that it would come again if she let Chris continue that magic, delicious licking. But she couldn't expect the girl to go on doing it.
Unless Cathy guessed unless I do it to her in a few minutes. But she couldn't bring herself to do a thing like that. Not yet. If she stayed here. ...
Chris moved up under the covers and kissed Cathy's breasts again. Her head emerged from the covering sheet and blanket. She asked, "Really fine for you, huh?"
"Um-ummmm!" Cathy touched her cheek in appreciation.
On the other mattress one of the girls panted into her orgasm, her voice keening up the scale.
Chris whispered, giggling, "Alicia goes crazy when Debra gives tongue. Debra's the best in the world!"
"Does your ... the Old Man know you do things like this up here?
"Sure. He and Mom don't care."
"Where is your Mom? I don't see anybody."
"She's over at Wentworth visiting Janey and Franella." Chris added in explanation, "That's the state school for the empty heads retards."
Cathy didn't say anything.
Debra crawled over to their mattress. "Want me to do you, Cathy?" She was eager. She spoke low, not bothering to whisper.
Cathy detected a kind of sing-song in Debra's voice and knew that Debra was probably a low-grade moron. She'd heard that same cadence that slow, childish, willingness-to-please in a couple of the 'stupidos' in grammar school, years ago.
She answered, "No thanks, Debra. I'm tired. Maybe another time."
"I can do it better than anybody. And you ought to see me do the Old Man. I really do good with him. He said so."
Cathy patted her on the head. "Good for you. Let's go to sleep now. Okay?"
"Okay." Debra crawled to the mattress she shared with the pregnant Alicia.
The girls said goodnight.
Cathy accepted a sweet goodnight kiss from Chris, then rolled onto her side in her best getting-to-sleep position. But sleep wouldn't come.
She stared into the darkness, listened to the girls' breathing and quiet rustling, and wondered what she had gotten herself into. And she wondered as her loins still simmered from the powerful climax Chris had given her am I a lesbian, too? What kind of creature am I? She decided to leave the first thing in the morning.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Knebel house seemed like a normal farmhouse in the morning, except for the lack of electricity. The girls had the chores divided up: Chris made a fire in the old cooking stove, Debra brought in water in buckets from the well pump. Alicia set the table and helped Marthy with the egg frying and biscuits.
The little girl swept and made the beds. Cathy helped.
The Old Man sat in a rocker out on the porch, relaxing and smoking a pipe. The little girl chattered, happy that Cathy was doing some of her work. They were in the big downstairs bedroom. The child's name was Sally. She climbed onto the bed to plump the goose down pillows. "I like you. I think you'll be a good one to take Mama's place. She's wore out, he says all the time."
The Old Man appeared in the bedroom doorway. "That's enough talk out of you, squirrel. You go wash, now. Food'll be on the table in a couple of minutes." To Cathy he said. "You stay. I want to talk." He shut the door after the departing Sally.
Sally licked her lips nervously. She stayed where she was, in the narrow aisle between the bed and the wall. "I thank you for putting me up for the night. I'll be going right away."
"Naw. You got no place to light. Have to get yourself picked up by some city man on the highway. I've seen some of my girls run to that kind of life. That's not for a Knebel girl. You stay here."
"I don't think I want to. I guess you're looking for a ... a new girl to have kids by. . .so you can sell them off to the men around. I don't. ... "
"Sheet, girl ... Cathy, was it? I don't sell my girls. They find themselves a young man who wants a good wife, and the boy or his family settles a dowry on her, and she gives over most of it to me, in appreciation for what I've done for her in preparing her to be a real woman for a real man."
"But the mother to all the girls here now ... she's your daughter!"
"Well, yes. Ginny's my first. She was bellied by a boy twenty year ago when she was twelve or so, and then when my Hanna died we had other girls to take care of it was just sort of natural for her to take over. She was the oldest by then. Around twenty, she was. We got close and before we knew she was big with my child. So it got to be a settled thing."
The Old Man drilled Cathy with his incredibly bright, piercing blue eyes. He compelled her to listen, to see things his way. He wouldn't let her look away. He continued, "All we got is the dowries settled on us for the girls when they marry. And nowdays Ginny's dropping more and more boys, and what girls come alone like as not they aren't smart enough to be a good wife. Men don't want a wife can't think clear. Life is gettin' a lot more complicated nowdays and the young men want smart girls besides the ability to please them mighty fine in the bed."
He sat on the edge of the bed. He toyed with some of the fringe hairs on his white-blonde beard. "Ginny's close to forty and she just isn't no good for bearin' girls anymore. Now, Alicia is big belly now, but not from my doin'. The boy's too young and too poor to settle anything worthwhile on her, so we'll let her have the baby, and if it's a normal girl, we'll keep it and raise it up."
Cathy managed, "What about the boy babies?"
"Well, we can't afford to keep boys. So we adopt 'em out ... or send 'em to that state home if they turn out with scrambled brains."
Cathy was still determined. "I don't want to be a brood mare for you." She made a face. "I don't want this kind of life. Besides, it's too close to my father. He'll come here . . .come looking for me."
"Oh, we got places we kin hide you."
"No. he'll hear I'm here, and he'll tear this place apart to get me back. He's a crazy man!"
The Old Man shook his head. "I've handled many. ... "
They both heard the roar of a truck coming up the road to the farmhouse. It was coming at reckless speed.
Cathy blurted, "Oh, God! It's him!" She ran from beside the bed to the window. She saw the old pickup careen into the yard and squeal to a stop. Fred Dietz exploded out of the cab with his shotgun in hand.
He saw her at the window. He pointed his finger at her and headed for the door.
Cathy quailed away from the glass. "He saw me!"
The Old Man snapped, "You git in that closet there. Crouch down and git under some things." He went to the bedroom door and called. "Alicia! Git in here! Chris! Bar the door!"
Fred pounded on the door of the rickety farm house. The walls trembled. He shouted, "Old Man! You fuckin' old sonovabitch! Open up or I'll kick my way in. You come out with my girl!"
Alicia came into the bedroom wide-eyed. Cathy was burrowing into the evil-smelling pile of old blankets, clothes and shoes in a corner of the large closet. The Old Man tossed some more things over her and closed the door. To Alicia he said, "You been in here making the bed! Understand? It was you who was lookin' out the window a minute ago when he drove up so fast. Understand? You understand me, Alicia?"
"Yes."
"And another thing. Cathy isn't here! She never was here! Can you remember that."
"Yes. But she's...."
"She isn't here! Never was! Now you finish with this bed."
"The biscuits'll burn."
"I'll tend to them." The Old Man darted out to the kitchen. The other girls were staring at the door which was split and shattered from the continual pounding. Fred raged and cursed at the top of his lungs.
The Old Man instructed his daughters, "Listen good now: Cathy ain't here and ain't been here." Then he went to the door and slipped the bar that held it loosely closed.
The door burst open and Fred stalked in. wild-eyed and deadly, clutching his twelve-gauge shotgun with whitened fingers.
The Old Man said calmly, "Fred, you gotta pay for that door. What are you so riled about?"
"You got my girl here! She ran last night and she's here. I saw her at the window ... that left hand window!"
"No, no. you-likely saw Alicia." The Old Man called, "Alicia, you come in her for a minute!"
Alicia edged fearfully into the living room.
The Old Man said, "She was in my bedroom when you roared up, and looked out to see what was goin' on." Alicia did have a resemblance to Cathy.
But Fred wouldn't buy it. "I say my girl in that window, and I'll tear this shack down board by board till I find her. You understand that Old Man?" He notched the twin barrels of the big old shotgun under the Old Man's chin. "Or maybe I'll just settle for blowin' your fuckin' head off now if she don't come out of wherever you got her hid. You ain't got but a few ticks to live, so you better start hollerin' for her to get in here!"
Fred's voice was edged with hysterical rage. He was on the edge of carrying out his threat and the Old Man knew it. This was not a man in control of himself. He truly was crazy!
The Old Man said quickly, "We was just bein' hospitable to kin, Fred. You kin have her. She's in the bedroom closet." He shouted. "YOU COME IN HERE NOW, CATHY! WE GOT NO CHOICE!"
Cathy had heard the exchange. The inner closet wall was part of the living room wall. She scrambled out from under the pile and bolted from the closet. She looked wildly about for a split second. She went for the window and raised it.
Fred heard the scraping, rattling sound and knew what it was. He cursed and ran out of the farmhouse.
He caught Cathy fifty feet away as she made for the pines. He dragged her. kicking and screaming and crying, to the truck. He tied her up and threw her on a pile of cabbage sacks in the back. Then he climbed into the cab and drove away.
Cathy was terrified. What would he do to her? He was insane, capable of anything, and she was positive the Old Man wouldn't call the sheriff.
She struggled with the thick twine that bound her hands and ankles together. The knots were too intricate and tight. There was nothing in the jouncing truck to cut with.
Cathy was sobbing when Fred turned into their farmyard and pulled up to the house. She saw Jerry slowly driving the tractor toward the east lettuce fields. She screamed, "Jerry, Help me! Help me!" But he couldn't hear over the rattling roar of the faulty engine ... and she didn't know what he would have done if he had.
Fred came around to the tailgate and stared hard at her. "Cry all you want. girl. No good'll come of it far as I'm concerned. You got to do your duty to me and by all that's right and proper and fair, you will! What you took from me you got to replace. You took my Mary, so you got to be mine. She was riveted by his long, thick cock. Her belly started to simmer inside, down low. and her breasts began to glow.
The sight of his huge manhood triggered her lust as nothing else could. It triggered a deep body knowledge and memory of the pleasure his thrusting cock brought to her. She had been conditioned. And she hated him and herself for it.
Her helpless response made her feel like an animal.
She felt him make insertion ... felt the delicious, filling thickness of him ... felt the sweet impalement. . .the long inches filling her, deeper, deeper.
Cathy sighed and fluttered her eyes closed. It was going to happen, so she might as well enjoy it again. She caught her breath as he thrust all the way. What a wonderfully sweet shock of pleasure when the head butted and pressed against her cervix. It was hot, shivery lightning. And at the same time his kinky pubic hair was scraped into her gaping slit and pressed with quick, rough impacts against her swollen little clitoris. The combination of sensations was enthralling.
She quivered from the giant thrusts. The bed quaked. Fred breathed like a bellows as he fucked her fast and deep.
If only a few moments Cathy was possessed by a gut-wrenching orgasm. She couldn't suppress her keening moans and cries of delight.
She was shamed by it, and by his panting laugh as he continued the breathtaking plunges. He thought he was her master because he could make her come like this! Because it was so obvious that his cock had conquered her body ... her resistance.
Cathy willed herself to turn off, to not feel the deep hot sliding of his fat cock. But it was useless. The sparkling rapture had barely passed before the familiar lava-like glow began building in intensity again.
She began to hope she could come again and to fear that she would to fear that soon she would be so attuned and so consumed by his fucking that she would come three times.
Fred choked out, "Coin' off now!" He reared and plunged even faster, and harder. He held her by the shoulders, covered her completely, buried his face in the pillow beside her head, and fucked like a berserk animal.
Raw grunts and oaths puffed from his muffled mouth. His cock was tremendously hard and long and thick.
Cathy was in a world of golden, total thrusts and impacts. Her entire body glowed, and her loins and guts seethed and bubbled with unbearably ecstasy. She went convulsive with a second climax that tore screams from her contorted face. She lost identity in the furnace of that tremendous orgasm. It blotted out her consciousness. She became pure cunt, pure lust, pure exalted, mindless pleasure.
She was aware when he jetted into her, when he bellowed and cursed in his own peak, but only marginally. Then she keened with animal disappointment when she felt his huge cock soften and shrink, and felt the thrusts diminish ... stop.
Cathy surfaced to control and felt skin-crawling loathing for herself. She had grunted and squealed and wallowed in the fucking like a pig! She was a monster! Was this what she had wanted when. ...
Cathy screamed and turned over violently, burying her face in the pillow, digging fingers into the sheet. She shivered uncontrollably.
Fred got off the bed and pulled up his jeans. He scowled at her. "What's the matter with you. girl? I know you enjoyed that a hell of a lot more than I did!" He laughed, relaxed. "And I had me a royal fuck. You got the tightest, deepest, juiciest box I ever been in. including Mary's. Course you're young yet, and I got close memories of Mary bein' kinda loose the last couple years."
Cathy couldn't stand it. She turned her tear-reddened, twisted face from the pillow and screamed. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" She glared up at him with blue eyes as wide and wild as his own had been at the Knebel place.
Fred was taken aback. He squinted, puzzled. He zipped up. belted his jeans, and stepped away from the bed. He took her clothes from the closet and from the floor. "From now on, girl, if you want to run again, you'll have to do it bare-assed naked!" He gathered all her clothes in his arms.
He carried them out of the bedroom and out of the house.
Gasping with grief and shame. Cathy scrambled to the window and watched him disappear into the barn. She muttered to herself, "You Goddamned sonofabitch! I'll get away! I'll kill you."
She glared around the room. Slowly her rage dissolved to fear and dread. She threw herself on the mussed bed and only then realized she had forgotten to clean herself. The insides of her thighs were sticky with his semen. There were wet spots on the sheets.
Cathy blinked at the mess, wailed, and pressed a hand to her crotch. She ran into the bathroom.
She forced herself to change the sheets and to run the soiled ones through the washer.
She walked and worked naked through the house, defiant. She toyed with the idea of just taking off across the fields in the opposite direction from where Fred and Jerry were working.
Would people think she was crazy? She could explain. But. ...
Cathy crept out of the house and ran to the barn. She searched for her clothes. Where could he have hidden them? She found a large wooden storage chest with a big padlock on it and knew she was defeated ... for now. She's have to pry the hasp loose with a crowbar, and there wasn't time to do that now. The men were due back from the fields for their lunch.
She ran back into the house and cut some arm and a head hole in an old pillow slip. The improvised garment covered her nakedness about as well as a minidress. She rinsed out a pair of panties that had been in the soiled clothes hamper. It was just her luck that there hadn't been a pair of jeans and a shirt waiting for washing.
Fred came stomping into the house a few minutes later. He laughed when he saw the "dress" she wore. "Take it off. I want you naked all the time."
"But what about Jerry?"
"Shit, he's seen girls naked before. Maybe even seen you, too, for I know." He stared at her. frowned, then stalked off to the bedroom. He called over his shoulder. "Get my food on the table."
Cathy quickly made two thick sandwiches of cheese and ham and tomatoes. She popped a big can of beer.
Fred returned with a pillow slip full of her shoes and panties and bras and stockings. "Told you to git naked!" He stalked out of the house and headed for the barn.-
Cathy stood in shock. He was really serious! This wasn't just for a day or two. It might be for weeks ... all summer?
She had to break open that box the first time it looked like she could have at least an hour or two of escape time.
She saw Fred call something to Jerry as he headed into the barn. Jerry had to know! Fred had probably told him everything!
That realization caused a flushed to pink Cathy's face. At the same time she experienced a definite glow of lust in her loins. She beat a fist into her crotch. She glowed more.
She looked down at herself and savagely ripped the altered pillow slip and the damp panties from her body. She stood naked, chin high, seething inwardly. She whispered intensely, "You want naked? You want a cunt? Fine! Okay, okay! I'll give you more than you want!" She spread her legs and fingered herself. She found wetness and instant pleasure.
She jerked her hand away and went to the kitchen closet. She took an apron from a hook, hesitated, then put the apron back.
Cathy was very nervous. She chewed her lower lip. She decided she was hungry and started a sandwich for herself.
Someone entered the house and clumped toward the kitchen.
Cathy stuck out her perfect little breasts. "Is this the way you want..." It was Jerry.
She flushed beet red and ran into the small pantry.
Jerry said. "He told me to come on in and you'd make a couple sandwiches for me ... and give me a beer."
Cathy felt a fool! Jerry had seen her before everything-she had. He'd fingered her, kissed her, touched her everywhere and here she was cowering in the pantry like a modest virgin.
She reached to a high shelf and took down a large wedge of chedder. She didn't look at him directly as she re-entered the kitchen. Naked. Naked. She couldn't help the continuing flush that pinked her face and neck and upper chest.
Cathy said. "I guess you know he's got my clothes hidden." She started making him the sandwiches.
"Yeah." He shrugged. "You should've waited." He watched her. "Now you're in for worse than before."
"He said he wouldn't use my mouth again, that way." She whirled. "You didn't put him up to doing it in my ... in my ass, did you?" She held the butcher knife she had used to slice the cheese in a threatening manner. Her eyes blazed. She trembled.
"Hey. no! That isn't what I meant. He just told me before I came in here, he said maybe we'd have a two-man gang-bang."
Cathy's mouth dropped open. Her trembling increased, but now it was a hot, disturbing shaking. And her guts began to simmer. The special place in the depths of her vagina began to itch delicately to want pressure and impacts.
She turned swiftly back to preparing his sandwiches. She licked her lips. She was ashamed of the way her nipples had popped out.
She said, voice shaking. "I'll bet that turns you on."
"Not especially. All he wants to do is show off his prick and see how little mine is."
Cathy found herself giggling. She couldn't stop. She thought, I'm going crazy, too!
Fred came into the house. From the living room he called. "Break it up." He laughed as he entered the kitchen. His hard eyes flicked from Cathy to Jerry and back, and a smile lingered. He swung a long leg over the back of the chair before his food and sat. He sucked a long draught from the beer. He began wolfing his food. He said, "Looks like Cathy needs more than one man to keep her satisfied."
She cried. "No!"
But he ignored her. He grinned at Jerry. "Maybe we both ought to give it to her and keep her happy, uh?" He flicked a flint-blue look at her at her pretty little naked breasts, her aroused nipples, her tensed belly, the honeyed blonde loins, the slim young thighs as she served Jerry.
Jerry was uncomfortable. "I don't know. ... "
"Shit, if she ran to Old Man Knebel and that crew, you got to know the truth of her body. The pussy hey, how does that French saying go? In vino ... vino. ... "
Jerry said, "In vino Veritas. Means there is truth in wine. Or when a person's drunk, they tell the truth."
"Sure. So I'm saying in pussy Veritas. It's how a girl acts with her belly full of cock that's real and true, not what she says later or before." He grinned lecherously atCathy. "Hmmm.girl? You can't lie. in bed, with eight or nine inches of hard meat drilling yah, can yah? All that moanin' and pantin' and comin' means plenty."
Cathy whispered, near tears, "It means I can't help myself."
He laughed. "Meanin' it feels too good to stop, huh? Meanin' you're plumb ashamed to admit you love gettin' fucked by me and maybe other men. too, huh?"
"Nobody else ever ... I've never done it with anybody else!"
"What, fuck? How about that boyfriend that used to come around here pantin' after you before I run him off? What did you two do together?"
Cathy licked her lips. She had her hips pressed to the edge of the table to keep Fred and Jerry from looking at her crotch. She wanted to cross her arms across her tell-tale breasts and nipples, but it would be too obvious and Fred would make her expose them again. She said defensively, "We didn't do anything ... except fool around a little."
"What does that mean? You give him hand-jobs and he fingered you off? Kissed your titties?"
She nodded reluctantly.
"Huh! Thought so. Wouldn't have been another month and you'd have juiced up and gone all the way with him." Fred stuffed his mouth with sandwich and poured in beer to wash it down. He suddenly asked, through a full mouth. "He got a big cock?"
Cathy didn't answer. She was humiliated, shamed, by this merciless cross-examination.
"ANSWER ME. YOU GODDAMNED CUNT!"
Cathy cringed from his anger and dominance. She stammered, N-no. J-just average ... I think."
Fred grunted with satisfaction. "Go a long way before you find a cock big as mine." He looked sideways at Jerry, smirked, and drank more beer.
Cathy waited, dreading what he had planned for after the meal. She retreated to the drain board, turned her back to the men, and nibbled at a half-sandwich. There was a slimy weight in the pit of her stomach. She had no appetite. She wished her body would stop its pulsing anticipation. She discovered she was rhythmically pressing her loins against the projecting breadboard, and flushed even more. She held herself rigid.
Fred took one last swallow of beer, burped loudly, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood up. "Okay. I'm in the mood for undressing. He began stripping, too.
Fred sat on the bed to take off his work shoes. "Got any ideas about who goes first or what?"
Jerry said, "Let Cathy decide."
Fred chuckled. "Why not?" He put a hand on her rump. She was lying face down, face in a pillow, hands working in a sheet. "What's your pleasure, girl?"
She heard and didn't want to reply. It was awful, what Fred was doing ... what he was making happen. But she was afraid of what he might decide if she were silent. Or what Jerry might dream up. So she said softly, "Jerry first."
Fred laughed! "See? Told yah. Let her suck you a bit, too. This girl sucks great."
Jerry almost said, "I know." He bit back the words. He pushed down his briefs and got on the bed next to her. He began running his hands over her naked body. He said, "Turn over."
Cathy bit her lower lip and turned over to give his hands and lips free access to her breasts, and whatever else he wanted to play with. She kept her eyes closed. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't bear the the expression Fred would have. She wished she could be deaf for an hour ... deaf and blind. Cut off from having to hear them and see them.
But not cut off from the pleasures they'd give her! She felt Jerry's hands on her belly, moving up to cover her warm, stick-up breasts. He squeezed gently and tenderly rubbed her sensitive, tingling, puffed little nipples. Her back arched reflexively. She sighed and forgot, after a few seconds, that Fred was sitting close, watching.
Then Jerry leaned over her and kissed her on the mouth. A sweet, easy, clinging kiss that he continued and continued, making her own warm and soften and open to his darting, tickling, exciting tongue.
Her nostrils flared as she filled hungry lungs. She made a small sound in her throat.
Then Fred intruded-ruined the moment by shifting on the bed to the other side of her, and putting his big hands on her belly and into her crotch. "Gets me worked up seeing you two kiss like that. Come on, girl, open up. Spread the legs!" He pushed her thighs open, and to avoid discomfort she raised her knees. But she was in an agony of embarrassment. She tried to forget him. She tried to lose herself in Jerry's endless kiss. She loved his touching of her glowing breasts and perky, ticklish nipples.
She was about to put her arms around Jerry when Fred took hold of her right hand and guided it to his cock.
He was half-hard. She hated to touch it, yet the feel of the cool, spongy fatness, the growing of it, the hardening provoked a shameful itching again in her vagina, deep, where only he could reach.
In spite of herself Cathy stroked his huge cock with loving care and with anticipation. She touched and caressed and squeezed till it was like a hot bar of flesh, pulsing with the lust.
In the meantime his hands were doing things to her ... foraging in her crotch, seeking with long fingers, entering her, finding the slick, juicy entrance, feeling her own heat and readiness.
With curious fingers she sought Jerry's cock with her other hand, and found it vibrantly hard. She played with both cocks as they played with her. She was breathing faster, fluttering her eyes open to the gloom, to the strong, passionate naked male bodies on each side of her own smaller, naked form.
Fred whispered lewdly. "Suck him. Suck him off. Get up on your elbows and knees."
Jerry whispered. "Yeah, Cathy. Do it."
She whimpered in protest but shifted they all shifted positions. And she tried not to see in the semi-darkness how Fred's eyes glowed and how his enormous cock flopped heavily between his strong legs. She knew, then, what he was going to do!
A thrill raced through her. She became breathless as she knelt over Jerry's hard white cock and licked the small purplish head. She closed her eyes but heard Fred moving behind her. his hands on her hips.
The secret itching need in her cunt was stronger. A body-mind wasyellingathim tostick his monster cock in her, fuck her, fuck her deep!
Cathy sobbed as she licked and stroked Jerry's cock. She felt the first nuzzling touch of Fred's big cockhead against her exposed vulva.
Jerry said, "Start sucking me." He put his hands on her head and gently urged her face lower ... urged her lips to take him.
She did it. She didn't care about the shame of having sex with both of them at one, of how it must look. How she would be thought of if it were known ... if they talked ... bragged ... only whores and degraded women did this!
She shivered and gasped as she felt Fred find the entrance and push into her. She filled her mouth with Jerry's cock and sucked fervently, loving the groan she wrung from him, loving the thrust of massive cock into her hot, jelly-fist cunt.
Cathy groaned, too, around the four inches of Jerry's organ she tongue-lashed and sucked and stroked.
Fred was into her deep! So good! All the way! Touching the deepest places, crushing more and more rigid meat into her dilating cunt.
Fred crowed with pleasure. "Wheeoo ... This is fine. Back door position. Yessir. Fine!" He gripped her slim, white hips with strong, calloused hands and fucked hard and fast.
Cathy was rocked to and fro by the breathtaking thrusts and jolting smacks from his loins. She was two minds in one body she sucked and sucked and sucked, tongue working, fingers aiding ... and she was concentrating on the wonderful glory of sensations that were occurring in her belly. She grunted with the sweet, punishing impacts, the incredibly good-feeling surge of Fred's giant cock, the electric thrills as his cockhead compressed the ticklish cervix at the end of her long tunnel.
Jerry was panting, arching his hips, unconsciously digging his fingers into her hair, urging her mouth lower, wanting her to take his whole cock.
Cathy's consciousness receded. She forgot who she was and where. She was pure body enjoying pure sex, giving pure sex. Nothing interfered, nothing spoiled it. Shame and mortification had faded with the diminishment of the Self.
She circled the base of Jerry's cock with her thumb and forefinger and sucked and bobbed her head and kissed her fingers. Somehow she did not gag. She let the movement from Fred's thrusts provide her deep-throat swallowing motion. She made sounds as she sucked, as she was fucked. Her belly sucked and bloated and clenched. She was in the golden time! She shuddered into a long orgasm, almost screaming with pleasure, sending the sound of her ecstasy humming through Jerry's cock.
It triggered him. He went, "Ahhhh!" and jolted her head with his up-thrusts into her clinging, caressing mouth. His semen spurted and splashed in her mouth and she let it accumulate, let it run down out of her mouth to coat his leaping cock and her fingers.
Fred was taking more time coming. He hissed and panted and drew deep, quick lungfuls of air and fucked Cathy like a machine ... deep, hard lunges into her cunt, pounding her insides, making her rock and whimper as she sucked the last drops from Jerry's wilting organ.
For a long minute the only sounds were the creaking of the bed, Cathy's small, ecstatic cries, and Fred's louder, urgent breathing. Jerry sighed and lay spent.
Cathy rested her forehead on Jerry's relaxed belly and gripped his muscular arms for stability as Fred continued to ram into her guts with his giant cock. Her face and cheek grazed to and fro on Jerry's belly. She gritted her teeth as another wave of pleasure built its fizzing comber in her guts and broke ... cascading through her nervous system, making her dig strong fingers into his skin, making her muffle her howls in his belly.
Her entire lower abdomen was golden, glowing, a seething sea of rapture that crested every minute or two and caused massive shudders and tremblings.
Fred's cock was an instrument of sweet, ecstatic torture for her. His smacking thrusts sent electric shocks of pleasure arcing through her, overwhelming pleasure. It couldn't keep on and yet it did! It couldn't keep surging and surging yet it did!
Cathy's body was wracked by ever-exhausting orgasms. There was only so much overload her system could endure. She was a mindless thing, whimpering, weeping, crying out in her helpless ecstasy again and again.
As Fred grinned with maniacal lust and power, knowing her condition, knowing what his endurance the continual, endless fucking was doing to the deepest levels of her psyche. He panted and sweated and fucked! His huge cock seemed like a golden club as it battered her into total submission, total dependence, total slavery as it conditioned her. seduced her body/mind with the narcotic-like rapture of recurring, convulsive, mind-wrenching climaxes. He was her master! She was his slave!
Cathy's eyes were glazed. Saliva leaked from her loose mouth. Her cries grew fainter.
Fred couldn't maintain the pace. The gradual intensity of his own orgasm built too high to resist any longer. He renewed his grip on Cathy's bruised waist and hips with aching hands and forearms. His chest was like a bellows. He ran with sweat. His eyes were fixed and glaring. He thrust harder! His giant cock plunged! All of it. all of it into the tight warm, hot, slippery, wet. velvet, jelly fist that was her cunt! His guts went loose and turned to lava. His cock was like iron, like a bar of steel! Every cell sensitized.
He roared and tried to ram his cock even deeper. His face turned up, neck muscles straining, face contorted, eyes dilated. His huge cock jerked and pulsed as he jetted in her uttermost depths. He cursed and gritted his teeth and rammed and rammed!
And then it was over. The pleasure was too keen, too sharp, to continue.
He hunched over Cathy, gluing his sweat-slick belly and chest to her rump and back. He sucked deep, satisfied lungfuls of air. He whispered, "Ahh, shit ... that was the best. That can't be beat!"
Cathy's surface personality and character swam, still, in a swamp of pulsing aftershocks of pleasure ... in a swamp of sweat and semen ... in a quicksand of suctioning, inescapable fear.
Jerry was shaken, too. He knew something was happening to Cathy but didn't know what. He had seen her submersion of self, and the gargantuan lust inhibited by both her and her father. It was a sick scene, and he wanted out! This was a deadly serious life-script being worked out, and he didn't want to be one of the victims.
Jerry said, "Hey, you two are heavy. Let me get out from under and take a shower." He tried to work his way free, to squirm sideways.
Cathy gave a strange, quivering shudder and opened her eyes. She howled eerily, sending chills up Jerry's spine, and then she clawed herself from between the two men and scrambled into the space between the bed and the wall. She huddled there, weeping.
Jerry stared. "Hey, I think she's flipping out."
Fred made a contemptuous sound. He shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. He scratched his sweaty belly. "Just goin' through one of her 'Oh, I'm so ashamed!' acts. She can't get enough good deep fuckin' but can't admit it to herself. She'll get over it in time." His face hardened. "She'll damn well have to." He gestured to the door. "Take your damned shower, but make it quick."
"You locked the door."
"Yeah." Fred fished in his pants pockets and got up, naked, unlocked the door, and padded down the hall to the kitchen.
Jerry saw him take-a beer from the refrigerator. Jerry looked over at where Cathy huddled on the floor between the wall and the bed. "You okay?"
She didn't answer. She wept.
Jerry shook his head and said half aloud, "Christ, I'll be glad to get clear of this place."
CHAPTER NINE
Cathy stood, naked, in the doorway of the house and watched Fred and Jerry drive away in the pickup. But Jerry wouldn't be coming back. His time was up, he had his last paycheck and he wouldn't be back. He hadn't spoken to her ... hardly a dozen words since that time in the bedroom.
He'd treated her like a loathsome creature, she thought. He'd been polite, but she had seen it in his eyes. The contempt. The judgment.
She blinked rapidly and her cheek twitched. She turned away from the doorway, small fists clenched. She wondered if Fred would bring back a new hand. Someone with a big...
She growled and ran into the kitchen. She took a beer from the fridge and popped it carelessly, letting the spume spray the floor. She drank and stared resentfully at the pile of dishes in the sink.
Her right hand strayed to her loins. She began fingering herself ... teasing her vulva, tickling the tiny clitoris ... giving herself tiny quivers of pleasure.
It only made her want Fred back so she could get him to fuck her again. The past week it had been strange how he grew more and more reluctant as she grew more willing, eager and demanding.
But it wasn't her. It was her hungry cunt. It yearned for his huge cock. It schemed for it, pleaded for it. Made her act like a shameless whore...
Cathy looked down and saw she had stuffed three bunched fingers into herself, and was pushing, squirming. ... It felt good, but cunt wanted that big, fat cock that hung between his strong thighs.
She gave a cry and, trembling, straightened up and ran to the bathroom to shower. She was going crazy. She knew it. She almost welcomed it. She had Fred, but she was going crazy. That was amazing.
She didn't care about having clothes any more. He could keep them locked up in the barn forever.
Being naked in daylight didn't bother her any more at all. Nothing bothered her, except when her cunt didn't get its way.
She went into the bedroom and sprawled face down on the bed and began to weep. She couldn't stop. She began to sob, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Cathy sat in a corner of her mind and observed all this and wondered what there was to be so sorry for? The rest of her knew, maybe even cunt knew, but it was information walled away.
Was this what was called a nervous breakdown? She didn't like it. She knew her cunt wanted to go on and on, filling the days and nights with Fred's wonderful cock. Cunt was even willing to get pregnant to please him. To keep his cock in her as much as possible, that was what cunt wanted.
Cathy shivered. She had to get away. No. She had to try to get away. That was the way it was supposed to.
She wailed aloud and sprang off the bed. She ran out of the house to the barn. She took a sledge hammer and, panting, howling without knowing it, broke the lock on the big storage chest.
She dressed in panties, shirt and jeans. She put on socks and walking shoes. She went back across the yard to the house, muttering, "No ... yes, yes, I will ... it's stupid! Shut up, you cunt! Girl, you've just got to make up your fucking mind! I want free! I WANT FREE!"
She stood in the living room, shaking like a leaf.
She blinked and twitched ... and she couldn't take another step. She was immobile. Locked tight. At war.
Cathy growled like an animal. She wept. She quivered.
She was still standing there when Fred returned from town. She heard him slam the pickup door shut and crunch across the yard toward the house.
He called, "Got my lunch ready!"
She staggered, almost fell, and took a deep shuddering breath. She ran into the kitchen and shouted out of the window as he neared, "Be a minute!" She made his sandwiches in record time, popped a large beer, and was opening a can of vegetable beef soup when he entered the kitchen.
Fred sat at the table and took a huge bite of the first sandwich. "Lousy kids, don't want to work at all these days. Had word out in town for weeks."
Cathy stirred the soup. Outwardly she was normal. "Did Jerry really leave?"
"Yeah, on the bus." He sucked beer. "Listen, girl, you're gonna have to help me in the fields for a while. You been lettin' the house get dirty anyway." He gestured angrily at the sink and at the dirty floor.
Then he suddenly realized she had clothes on. His face darkened with rage.
Cathy realized. She had forgotten she had them on. She knew she should have. ...
He reached out and seized her wrist and pulled her close. "What's the idea? What you plannin'? "
"N-nothing! I just ... I just can't go around naked forever!" I can't help you in the fields without wearing something!"
He relaxed a bit. "Yeah. Okay. But inside here, I want you naked! I want you bare-assed. Now!"
Cathy obediently stripped. She went to the stove and stirred the bubbling soup. When she served him a bowl she artfully brushed her left breast against his arm.
The grazing of her sensitized nipple on the rough fabric of his shirtsleeve caused the eager flesh of the pink button to yeast out to a ticklish little knob.
He ignored it. She chewed her lower lip as she sat down to a bowl of soup, and finally, cunningly, said, "We've been having too much sex. I don't want to do it but once a ... maybe once every three days." She kept her eyes down. He must not see the hot glow in them. She slumped to hide her hardened nipples.
As she had expected, he bridled. "Listen, girl, I'll get into you when and where I want. We fuck when I say so! Not you!
Cathy said in a low, apparently contrite voice, "I only thought ... three times a day is too hard on you. You don't have the strength to do it that much. You probably don't want to try now, for instance."
"Huh! Don't I? We'll see about that, girl! Soons I get my food down." He chuckled. "You kin get me in the mood. You just get under the table and open my pants and give me a suck job."
She blinked fast. She licked her lips. She hesitated a few seconds, until he looked warningly at her. Then she nodded and slipped under the wooden table.
Cathy knelt on the hard linoleum and pushed open his legs. She reached up and tugged down his zipper. His cock was hanging loose down his pantleg. She delved into his pants and grasped the soft thickness. It was warm and clammy and so easy to bend. She worked it up and sideways and finally brought it out of his gaping fly. The purplish head nodded at her.
His pants smelled of grease and sweat. His cock was clean but it had acquired an aroma of his pants.
Nevertheless, she wanted it hard, so he would be ready to fuck her ... drive it deep, drive it hard.
She took the head into her hot mouth and laved it with her tongue. There was a taste, then it was gone. She rolled and slithered the glans in her mouth. It grew bigger. His cock lengthened and thickened and hardened in her warm hands.
She was getting to him, all right. She took more cock into her mouth, sliding her clinging lips down the shaft, lashing his pleasure surfaces, sucking, swallowing saliva, bobbing her head slowly, but refusing to take too much, refusing to push the head into her throat.
She heard him drinking and swallowing as she sucked him. After two or three minutes his cock was at a full erection, a huge, thick, long monster that filled her hands and her mouth. Her cunt itched and burned and tingled with wanting. She squeezed her thighs together rhythmically, teasing herself.
She pulled her mouth off the wet, turgid monster. He must have finished his beer and soup. It was quiet overhead.
Fred muttered, "Go on with it. Told you to suck me."
She said, "You're ready. You're in the mood."
"I'm ready for suckin' is what I'm ready for. My back's been hurtin' lately, and fuckin'you doesn't do it no good. So you go ahead and suck me off. I think I'd like pure suck-offs for about a week."
Cathy scowled. Hate surged. "What about me?"
Fred gave the table a shove. It skidded back away from him. Bowls and beer cans toppled and rolled and crashed to the floor. Dregs of soup spattered the linoleum.
Cathy was startled. She looked up at his enraged face. He gritted, "What about you? Nothing about you, girl. You got no rights around here. You purely and simply do what I tell you or I beat the living shit out of you. You try runnin' away again and it gets worse. You still have to suck me off all the time if that's what I decide I want!" His big fists were balled, ready to strike. "You understand that? Do you finally understand that?"
Cathy nodded. Her cheek was twitching. Inwardly, one of her made avow. Another part of her nodded and smiled. Outwardly she shivered without knowing why, and closed her eyes and guided his cock to her mouth again. Her hands stroked his shaft lightly, gently, as she sucked artfully on the head.
Her loins burned and wanted, but nothing was going to enter there, now. She took one hand from him and slid it between her thighs to the warm slipperiness of her slit. She fingered her clitoris and gasped at the instant surge of orgasmic pleasure. She sucked his cock more enthusiastically as a result.
Fred sat back in the old wooden chair, let his legs sprawl, and watched Cathy suck him. He smiled and on occasion showed his teeth in a satisfied grin.
The time came a few minutes later when he gripped the side of the chair and hunched forward, tense, breathing fast.
Cathy knew he was close to shooting. She wanted to get it over with. Her right hand was half buried in the juicy depths of her cunt while her thumb rotated in slippery ooze on her clitoris. She shuddered with self-gratification.
She twisted her head as she sucked, as she bobbed and as she stroked with her left hand. She flicked her tongue on the golden triangle of the underside of his glans ... that special place of concentrated pleasure nerves on every cock.
She felt him go extra tense. Her fingers around the base of his cock felt the thrumming of the blood and the first great pulse of semen jetting up the tube.
She bobbed her head swiftly and lashed with her tongue as the gout of stuff erupted into her mouth.
Fred cried out as if mortally wounded.
More semen spewed, and more. His cock leaped and leaped in her mouth as muscles contracted in spasms of release.
She had to swallow a lot of it. He' hit her if the semen escaped ... leaked and stained his pants.
Then it was over. He went limp and sighing and grinning. His cock began to soften and shrink.
He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, a good one that time. You really know how to suck me off." He stuffed his cock back into his pants and stood up. He moved to the kitchen doorway. "You git this place cleaned up some. Take an hour ... do an hour's worth of cleaning, then you git those clothes on and come out to the south acres. We got to work hard on spraying this afternoon."
Cathy remained kneeling on the hard linoleum floor. She remained staring at the tiny cracks in the worn surfaces.
"Hear me?" She nodded.
"You do what I say, then. No layin' around. Git this kitchen cleaned up. Fuckin' mess." He stomped out.
Cathy said softly, after he had gone, "You made the mess." But she didn't move. She was mildly surprised that she couldn't move. She was mildly surprised that she couldn't move. The voices were alive in her head again, arghing, contending, struggling for control.
The trembling returned. The twitching. She listened to herself muttering and whimpering. Finally, she got tired of it. She moaned and flattened on the dirty floor. The linoleum felt cool against her bare skin.
She rolled over onto her back and blinked ... and said aloud, "I'm going to get the fuck out of here!" She sprang to her feet and gathered her clothes. She dressed frantically, whispering, "I will leave! I will leave! I will leave! She giggled uncontrollably and ran out of the house.
She veered wildly in the yard, undecided, and finally ran out across the fields toward the distant house of the widow Martin.
As she ran she looked back and saw Fred on the tractor just coming into view from behind the barn. He was faced the opposite way, following a long east-west row.
Cathy was tiring. Running across thirty acres of cabbage rows ... jumping, jumping, jumping. ...
Halfway across the last five acre section she had to slow to a walk. She was puffing. She looked back and saw Fred turning the tractor ... and he saw her!
She stopped, frozen for a moment. He waved and shouted, but his words were lost. Then he did something to the controls of the tractor and disconnected from the sprayer.
He was driving the tractor heedlessly, at top speed, across the rows, coming straight for her!
Cathy sobbed and began running as fast as she could for the nearby Martin house.
CHAPTER TEN
Cathy scooted under the fence and ran, panting around the large house's front door. As she ran she saw the terrible, run-down condition of the rusting machinery, the weathered, rotting barn, the peeling, blistering paint on the cedar shakes of the main house.
She wondered if the house was occupied; it had such a dead, dirty, abandoned look. All the windows were shut and covered by drapes or shades inside. Yet she noticed a thin plume of white smoke coming from the fireplace chimney.
Cathy bolted up onto the porch and banged on the windowless door. "Mrs. Martin! Mrs. Martin? It's Cathy Dietz from the next farm! Let me in, please! Please!
Silence. She could hear the approaching tractor about a hundred yards away. Would Fred drive through the fence?
She banged on the door. "Please let me in! I'm in trouble! I need help!"
The roar of the tractor grew louder.
Cathy turned away from the door. Where could she run to now? Where was there a place to hide? He'd search the old rickety barn! The empty chicken house?
She was just about to run again when the door lock turned over behind her. She whirled and had to wait as two other locks were opened.
The door opened a crack. Crazy mrs. Martin peered out at her. "What are you saying?"
"My father's after me! He . . .he wants to get me in bed!"
"You're Mary's little girl. Grown up a lot. Got yourself in trouble?" The woman opened the door wider after surveying the porch and yard.
She was tall, almost six feet, and heavy and strong in the shoulders and hips. In the thin, flowered housedress she was massive, with pale, tree-trunk like legs and pasty arms. Her greying hair was drawn back in a bun. She wore old-fashioned bifocals. Her mouth was a thin red slash. Her dark eyes glittered with suspicion.
Cathy repeated impatiently, "It's Fred ... my father! Ever since mother died he's been after me! I couldn't stand it anymore! Please, let me in! He's right behind me ... there!"
The tractor roared around the side of the house. Fred shouted something.
"Trying to violate you, is he?" The widow Martin's face hardened. "You come in. We'll see about that. Never liked Fred Dietz, Never trusted him!"
Cathy darted inside. The widow slammed the door shut and set all the locks. She went into the bedroom as Fred steered the big tractor close to the porch and hopped off. The engine went to idle and he bellowed, "YOU COME OUT OF THERE GIRL! WIDOW! WIDOW, YOU SEND HER OUT OR I'M BUSTING IN!"
He stomped up onto the porch and rattled the small panes with his heavy blows.
Cathy retreated, away from the door. She looked around for the widow. Then she heard a window in the bedroom open and the widow's strong voice. "You get off my land, Fred Dietz, or you'll be carried off it!" There followed an ear-splitting BOOM! that had to be a shotgun going off.
Cathy ran into the bedroom and saw the big woman jacking another shell into the 12-gauge she was pointing out of the window.
She heard Fred scream, "You crazy woman! You shot my tractor!
"Lucky it wasn't you! Now get off my land! Get! Now!"
Cathy rushed to another window. She saw Fred run to the tractor. The large right rear tire was pocked and flat. The machine tilted. He was cursing non-stop as he mounted the wide, cushioned metal saddle and put the machine in gear. The tractor wobbled and lurched as he drove it slowly back around the side of the house.
The widow Martin muttered to herself and carried the shotgun into the kitchen, where she peered out and, with Cathy, watched the wounded tractor with its big tire flopping, and Fred, lurching in the bucking saddle, weave across the back yard and through the hole in the fence he had made a moment ago when pursuing Cathy.
The widow grunted and set the shotgun on the table. "Piss ant. Like as not he'll come back tonight with his own gun."
"Can't we call the sheriff?"
"Don't have a phone. Didn't use it enough to have one ... all that money for nothing." Her voice was changing, deepening.
Cathy got a creepy feeling. The widow Martin was changing, subtly. Cathy asked, "Do you have a car?"
"In the barn. But no gas for it." The woman's voice was now an octave lower, deeper, pitched to imitate a masculine voice. She looked down at Cathy and smiled ... differently. She held her big body in a stiff manner, like a man. Even her face. ...
Cathy was frightened. "I think I should go now ... while he's gone. I can get a good head start."
The large woman quivered and became herself again. She smiled and said softly, "I'm sorry. That was my Henry. He gets strong sometimes and shows himself."
"What do you mean?"
"My husband, Henry. He died ten years ago, but you know, a few years later he started talking to me in my head, and I wasn't alone anymore. It was just like before he died. I didn't lose him after all. He came back to me." She smiled beautifully, happily.
"Oh, that's nice." Cathy swallowed and made an incomplete gesture. "I really should go. I. ... "
"You can't go now. Your father is still out there. Look." The window pointed out the back window.
The tractor was standing quiet a few yards beyond the fence, on Dietz property. Fred wasn't visible.
Cathy's heart sank.
The widow said, reasonably, "You stay here with me for a while, until we see what you father has in mind. We won't hurt you."
Cathy chewed her lower lip. "All right. I guess I have to. It's just ... A minute ago, you changed ... like ... like Henry was talking to me, like you were a man."
The widow Martin nodded agreeably. "He does that sometimes. He'll just take over and do things around the house and the farm, or. . .Well, he is a man, and ... Well, you know men. They get their nature up sometimes."
"What?"
"I don't always remember what happens. It's all blurred. It depends on how strong he is. But you don't have to worry. Henry is a gentle man. He couldn't have shot that gun a minute ago. I had to do that."
Cathy felt itchy all over, and afraid. Talk about going from the pan into the fire!
The widow sat Cathy down at the kitchen table. "Henry lied about the car, and the gas. If we have to we'll drive you to town and see you on a bus. But we don't have money for a ticket for you."
Cathy slumped. "Neither do I. I just ran."
The widow cut Cathy a piece of deep-dish apple pie. She poured milk. She watched, smiling, as Cathy ate. "There's more."
They talked. Slowly, wheedling, guessing, the woman got the whole story from Cathy. They talked for hours, and at the end Cathy was lying on the bed in the woman's arms, being mothered, crooned, cuddled.
Cathy discovered that the widow possessed soft, warm breasts. In the housedress they hadn't been obvious, but when the woman slipped off the dress and got into the bed in an old, yellowing nylon slip with no bra, the masses of flesh sagged sideways, and the woman's nipples poked out. The white, veined roundness became impossible to ignore.
Cathy slept with her head cushioned in the deep warm hollow between the woman's huge, matronly breasts. She was held and sung to ... she was an infant again.
Cathy awoke frowning. There was a hand between her legs, seeking to arouse her. The fingers pressed rhythmically against her jeans crotch.
It was the widow. Except. ...
"Don't you like that, Cathy?" It was Henry's voice. The widow's body felt different against her. Different muscle sets, tensions. The voice was astoundingly masculine. The hand acted masculine.
"NO!, Please ... Henry, don't do that." Fear made Cathy breathless and sick to her stomach. The big woman/man held her easily with one arm while the other marauded over Cathy's body.
"I want to touch you. I haven't touched a young girl in a long, long time ... I won't hurt you. I only want to touch. ... "
There was nothing Cathy could do. The arm that held her was shockingly strong. And she didn't want to make this an all-out struggle, because if pushed to extremes maybe Henry would be violent.
And ... somehow, Cathy trusted the widow, Henry to be gentle and trustworthy. Her judgment was made at her gut level, in her unconscious. The child in her had made a reading from dozens of insignificant signals and knew ... just knew, that no harm would come from letting Henry have his way.
Cathy managed to relax somewhat, and her terror passed. It was a weird situation ... but she had to smile faintly ... her own mental problems were as weird. And what had happened with her own father! So why not let Henry enjoy himself. Maybe ... maybe she would enjoy it, too.
Cathy closed her eyes as the strong hand unbuttoned her shirt and spread the garment to reveal her breasts. Her nipples told on her by being puffed and excited. She turned her head to one side and secretly enjoyed the big hand's caresses. She could really believe it was a man touching her, gently molding the warm flesh, stroking fingertips over the enlarged, sensitive nipples.
The widow shifted and Cathy gave a small surprised and grateful moan as the mouth descended and kissed the distended little tips of pink tissue.
Cathy couldn't help arching her back as Henry suctioned them into 'his' mouth and tongue-lashed them. Her rounded, touched, fondled breasts glowed now, and sent hot messages to her loins. The itch ... the hungry itch for long, fat cock was awakening. ...
Henry whispered, "You like it, don't you, Cathy?"
She nodded. She couldn't look at the widow's big body, the woman's head, and face set in strange lines. It was too grotesque. It was too weird. She just wanted to drift with the situation without much thought. The morality of it was so complicated!
Cathy didn't think ahead. She didn't anticipate the next move by Henry. How would a man in a woman's body satisfy another woman?
Soon Henry was opening her jeans, pushing them down, pulling them off. Now palming the smooth warm flesh of Cathy's belly ... now edging fingers under her panties.
Cathy burned with need. She hated herself, her body, for the addiction to sex she had developed. Her insatiable lusts were humiliating, degrading. They had led her to. ...
She couldn't permit the thought to be completed. She sat up abruptly and pushed the woman's hands away. "Don't!"
Henry asked "Why? You like it, he said, you'll like it a lot more, too."
Cathy couldn't cope with Henry's voice and the subtle masculine set to the widow's facial muscles, and the overwhelming feminine body. She recoiled and fell back, unwilling to face the scene, the argument that would follow, and maybe the struggle if she opposed the strange schizophrenic madness of the widow.
Cathy turned her face away again and whispered, "All right, do it. Do what you want."
As she let the hands delve into her panties and press down into her moist crotch to discover her body's lust, Cathy wondered what Fred was doing? Crouching out there at the fence line, scheming, devising a plan to get her out of the house. Fred was insane, too. Old Man Knebel was crazy. Was the whole world crazy?
Cathy felt her panties being eased off. Now she was naked. Now Henry was kissing her belly, hands busy gently exploring hr vulva, finding the taut little clitoris, the juices, the entrance to her depths. ...
Henry whispered, "I know what you want, Cathy. It's what Gretchen-likes all the time."
Cathy expected him to finger her, or go down on her. Except ... how could Henry go down on the widow, since he was only a part of her mind?
Cathy lifted her head to look, in spite of her reluctance to contend with the widow Henry in the widow's body situation. She said, "What are you going to do to me?"
"You'll love it. You've been getting it from Fred for a long time. I knew Fred when ... before I came into Gretchen. I know how well hung he is. I can make you happy like he did."
The widow reached between the mattress and the box springs at the head of the old bed. She, Henry, brought up a silk wrapped object ... long and thick.
Cathy knew what it had to be even before Henry unwrapped it. Yes, an artificial, homemade cock. It was constructed of wood and wrapped sponge rubber and string. It bulged in places to almost frightening thickness. It was a foot long.
She gasped, "It's too big!"
Henry had opened a bedside drawer and taken out a package of condoms. He was rolling one onto the phallus He opened a jar of petroleum jelly. "It isn't too big for Gretchen. We'll give it a try. I isn't too big for Gretchen. We'll give it a try. I would never hurt you, dear. When it gets too much, let me know. I only want to please you and give you what your body says it wants."
Shamed, frightened, Cathy said, "My body doesn't talk!"
"Oh, yes it does. Bodies always talk, and they tell the truth. The mind ... the surface mind, is always full of lies and should never be believed. Only the body tells the real truth."
Cathy had no answer. She clenched her small fists and let Henry kiss her on the mouth, on her breasts and nipples again, and in spite of herself she became aroused even more. Her cunt wanted that big cock, artificial or not.
Henry was gentle and considerate. The rounded head of the thing entered on a well-oiled, slick skin ... and he took a long time working it gradually deeper and deeper ... as Cathy breathing faster, became restless, raised her knees as she began gripping the quilt under her heated, naked body. She licked her lips and heated, naked body. She licked her lips and began a soft, embarrassed moaning.
Henry said, "I'm pleasing you, I knew I would. Take your time, dear. There's no hurry. Let yourself go. Let your body tell you, let your body have what it needs."
And Cathy did submerge. She let Cunt take over. She breathed, "Faster ... deeper!" . "Yes, I'm so happy!" Henry hugged Cathy closer with one arm and powered the artificial cock further into Cathy's clenching, spasming vagina, and faster, faster, deeper!
Cathy was in that special orgasmic heaven she had known when Fred had fucked her and fucked her and fucked her, showing off before Jerry that time ... only it was different now. Not quite as good. Because she missed the weight of him, the panting, the intertwined movement, the subtle interactions, the heat and presence of him.
That part of sex was more important than she had realized. Now she was getting a royal fucking. It felt so wildly good, the thing was into her so far! Although, an extra dimension was missing. And this ... this artificial cock being plunged fast and hard and deep into her guts by a man/woman, was in the final analysis, only a form of masturbation. .
But, as Cathy sobbed and moaned into a quivering, gasping climax, even as masturbation it was incredibly good.
She was tortured by the keen pleasure, and fisted bunches of the quilt with clawing hands and emitted strange screeches as she climaxed again, intensely, almost instantly after the first.
The huge bulk of the rubberized cock, driven by Henry's tireless arm, pressed exquisitely, repeatedly, against the spasming mouth of her cervix, deep in her belly.
Cathy felt the smack of the gripping hand against her engorged, gaping vulva, against the flushed, vibrant, pebble-like button that was her clitoris. The tiny organ was like a pleasure bomb exploding every two or three minutes now. Forcing a red flush of congestion in her face and upper chest. A wildly thudding heart. A shivering, trembling, near convulsive reaction in her thighs and belly.
When the fifth orgasm left her dizzy, panting, unable to think, unable to coordinate, fizzing and trembling through and through, Cathy managed, "Stop, please stop! I can't take any more."
The widow kissed her lightly on the lips. The voice of Henry said, "I loved giving to you, dear. It was a joy to watch you."
Cathy smiled faintly. She was wiped out. Weak as a kitten. She was both relieved and disappointed when the immense artificial cock was eased from her still-spasming cunt.
Henry said, "There is something you could do for me, if you will. When you've rested. It would be nice if you'd do for Gretchen what I've done for you. It won't take long. I can't do it as I usually do for her, because I've been surfaced far longer than I am used to. I have to sink now, down into her mind, to a special place all my own. My home since I died and went over. I came back because Gretchen needed me so much. But I can't surface for too long. I expose myself to ... You mustn't know about them. I have to sink now. Remember there is an afterlife, Cathy ... It is possible to come back ... if ... a ... loved ... one..."
Henry's voice faded and grew faint. It was gone.
Cathy watched the widow's fee soften and change as the Henry persona relinquished body control. It was amazing and fascinating. And scary!
The widow Martin sighed and closed her eyes. When her eyes opened, she smiled and said, "You like what Henry did for you?" She picked up the artificial cock and said, "This is how we make love. It's his way. I enjoy it plenty. I lay back in my mind and I let him do it to me. We talk in my head and he uses my arms. To me it's like I don't have arms. To me it's like he's on top of me . . .I can really feel him on me ... and this is his manhood."
The widow smiled shyly and lowered her eyes. "Just between us, Cathy, he never was this big before. I always wished he was, but I never told him, or let him know in any way he wasn't ideal. But I secretly wished he was built bigger. A lot bigger. Then ... when he came back to me in my head, seems like he knew my secret thoughts, and he took over one day and made this thing for us."
She laughed. "Imagine my surprise when he told me what he wanted to do to satisfy my needs and my wishes to him. He knew. He knows everything I know. So that's how we make our life together now, for lovemaking."
She stepped toward the door. "I'll just wash this off good." She went into the bathroom.
Cathy wanted to giggle hysterically. She pressed a hand to her pulsing lower belly. Small pleasure quakes still tremored there reminding her how good it had been. How weird. And how good it would be again, if...
She hopped off the bed and peered out of the window. She could see across the fields toward her house, and along the fence for a distance. The tractor was sitting atilt, in the rows of cabbages. Fred was nowhere to be seen.
Was he creeping around the widow's house, looking for a way in? Was he about to confront her through the window?
Cathy quickly pulled the homemade drapes shut across the window. She stood trembling.
The widow returned. "What's the matter, child?"
"I'm. . .I'm just scared he'll break in. Where is he?"
"Don't care where that man is. There's triple locks on both doors, the windows is all locked, and I got this shotgun to blow his head off if he tries to get in. I know the law. Let him get hisself more'n halfway into this house by breaking and entering, and I'm free to shoot. Sheriff Grant'd just grunt and cart the body away, me protecting us from a crazy man like Frank Dietz."
"Would you really shoot him? Kill him?"
The widow's face hardened. "You damn right I would. Don't care what Henry says in my head."
Cathy went to the bed and sat, shivering. She blinked fast. She swallowed. She whispered, "What would I do without him?"
The widow sat next to her and enfolded her in her big, strong arms. "It'd solve all your problems."
"No ... I'm no good. I need..."
The widow pressed Cathy's head to her huge, soft breasts.
"You don't need him, child. Henry and me can give you everything you need. You could live with us."
Cathy's thoughts swirled. She remembered when she was five years old, going to the bathroom and finding her father there, peeing. She had been amazed by the sight of his big organ. It had seemed immense. Fearful.
Alluring, somehow. The magic male thing. She didn't have one.
Fred had laughed at her staring. He'd said, "You're too small for it, girl. It belongs to your mom."
She had backed out of the bathroom, blinking, wanting it anyway.
Cathy shivered in the widow's arms. She had forgotten that incident completely, until now.
The widow eased Cathy backward onto the bed and joined her. "I heard Henry ask you to do something for me."
"Oh, yes." Cathy gingerly took the huge artificial cock from the widow's hand. It was heavy. It was absolutely gigantic. And all but an inch or two had been in her own cunt a few minutes ago! She couldn't believe it.
Cathy stared at the long, thick condom-covered monster. She could understand the widow being big enough. The widow was a very tall, bulky woman. But I'm only a girl. I'm small. I'm ... I'm a perverted, degraded, lust-ridden, mother-killer! I don't deserve to. ...
The widow squirmed out of the old yellowed nylon slip she had been wearing. Naked, she was grossly over-fleshed in breasts, belly and hips. She sank down on her back and spread her doughy thighs. She cuddled Cathy up against her. "Henry plays with me some before he does me. like he played with you."
Cathy nodded and licked her lips. She had to fight to keep an expression of revulsion from her face. She didn't want to kiss this old woman, or suck the big, fat, brown nipples. Or sexually fondle the big, slack breasts. Or finger the deep gash between the thick legs.
With the Knebel girls it had been different. They had all been young and attractive and slim ... almost relatives.
But Cathy knew she deserved this. She deserved this degradation and ugliness and depravity. Freedom from this life was impossible for her. There was no way out except. . .
"Start on me, child. Henry is getting impatient."
Cathy nodded and withdrew from the acts she began to perform. She was a spectator. She ordered her hands and mouth to do things and watched the performance with a critical judgment. There was an invisible wall of glass
The woman's nipples surged up to become thick, red-brown, puckered fingerlets. Teats. Cathy sucked on them. Cathy worked them as she would have a small cock. She tried to make the widow's nipples climax. She molded the soft breasts like bags of warm, half-set jello.
The widow was delighted. "Ohhh, you dear child! You're so good to me. Henry is so pleased. ... "
Cathy ran her fingers down the heavy body to the thick mat of pubic hair, and lower, to the loose, slippery lips that so easily parted and admitted her fingers.
The hot groove was juicy. The bulbous little clitoris seemed to twitch and stiffen on contact.
The widow inhaled sharply. Her heavy thighs parted even more. She said, in Henry's voice, "Now fuck her, Cathy."
Cathy reached for the huge artificial cock. She held it at the end and carefully rubbed the head into the widow's slippery, loose-lipped vulva. The surrounding hair was glistening with her juices.
The widow sighed, and braced her feet on the bed. She made coital moves even before Cathy pressed the head into the slightly gaping cunt.
Cathy was at the same time both bored and interested. She was withdrawn and acutely involved. She watched the widow's changing expressions at the long, thick rubber cock was worked deep.
The widow participated thoroughly ... fucking up against Cathy's pressing hand, taking more inches of the shaft. She bubbled with happiness and whispered words to Henry and used her hands to maul her large, quaking breasts and tweak her nipples.
Cathy wondered if Henry had control of the arms now.
The widow's voice asked thickly for more and more.
Cathy obliged, forcing the shaft in and in further, until with one near-savage thrust, and one greedy open-thighed leap of hips by the widow, the cock was buried in the quaking belly, and Cathy's gripping hand was slicked by the gaping, slippery, pink-fleshed lips. The red-knobbed clitoris was rubbed as Cathy twisted the cock and worked it in a figure eight movement, bringing gasps of delight as the implement probed and moved in the hot, tight depths.
The widow's cunt closed on the cock like a fist, and gave it up reluctantly as Cathy strained to pull most of it out. This was tiring work, after a while. Cathy had to change positions in order to grip the big rubberized cock with both hands, in order to haul it out and shove it in ... It was like churning butter.
The widow groaned and heaved and sweated on the bed. Her belly quivered, her breasts jiggled, her thighs jumped and flexed as her blocky hips jerked up and down.
Cathy began to wish the widow could come! This was heavy labor! Pull, push, pull, push, against increasing resistance, because the hotter the widow's cunt to orgasm, the tighter she gripped the cock.
Cathy's arms ached, her legs were cramped. She panted with the effort. She whispered half-aloud, "Come ... come ... make it now!"
With each stroke she buried the cock. The shaft was oiled with the woman's juices. With each stroke, Cathy twisted the shaft during its extreme penetration, rubbing the distended clitoris with her gripping fist, again and again, trying every way she knew, to get the woman off.
And at last it happened. The widow shuddered massively. Her flesh rippled. She croaked, "Ahhhh ... my darling ... I'm there ... I'M THERE!" She seized the cock from Cathy's aching, exhausted hands, and with frantic, brutal, gut-wrenching thrusts, fucked herself maniacally with the huge artificial cock. She grunted and gurgled and howled. She gasped and popped her eyes. Her belly heaved. The bed seemed near collapse from the violent movements.
At the end of this cycle of orgasm, the widow pressed even the last few inches used as a grip into her cunt. With the palm of one hand, pushed by the other palm, the final inch of the huge cock disappeared into the quaking belly. She puffed and mouthed air like a hooked, landed fish. She stared, glassy-eyed, at the ceiling.
Then, she let her hands fall away, lax, and the cock slowly appeared, moved by spasming internal muscles, and inch by inch was expelled from her cunt. After a moment it hung from her cunt, two-thirds exposed, wobbling with the continuing internal reaction to the intense orgasm.
Cathy was disturbed. The widow had had a climax at least as strong as the ones she experienced. That proved Cathy was insane, too. Only crazy people could let themselves go like that ... could let their sexuality have such a free reign, with no inhibitions.
Cathy experienced a queer shiver of satisfaction. That sure explains a lot. They made me crazy, both of them, all these years.
The widow was recovering. She drew Cathy up on the bed and enfolded the girl in her arms. "You were very, very, good, child. Henry is very pleased with you, and so am I. Oh, I'm very happy now."
Cathy endured the embrace. The widow and she were both sweaty and icky. She wanted a shower or bath. She wanted to be ready when Fred returned. That part wasn't finished.
The widow said, kissing Cathy, stroking her, "Henry and I both want you to stay with us. We can let you use the car when you want."
"But my father
"I'll take care of that awful man. We can lure him inside and take care of him easily, i know people think me crazy because I don't keep up this farm, and don't live like other folks live, but I can talk normal to them anytime I want. Henry keep low and I can act as sane and responsible as any of them. And with you to back me up, telling about how Fred Dietz tried to abuse you in a way a father shouldn't abuse his daughter ... well, we'll be written up as heroines!"
The widow laughed. "We might even get famous!"
Cathy didn't like the idea. It wasn't right.
Something was missing. But thinkin about it made her head buzz. She asked, "Couldn't we talk about it later? I feel all sweaty. I want to clean up."
The widow smiled. "Of course. We'll both get clean. Then we'll have super. I have some pancake mix and a few sausages left and coffee. Will that be enough?"
Cathy nodded and managed to squirm free of the widow's arms.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The bathroom was old the house was old, from, the late 1800's and the fixtures were from ancient times. There was a shower, but ... Cathy stepped into the homemade enclosure of tin and a shower curtain, and surveyed the plastic water pipes that led up through the ceiling. She tentatively turned on the "hot."
A weak spray developed slowly, of warm water. Cathy shrugged and took up a big bar of homemade soap. She lathered herself thoroughly.
The widow came into the bathroom, naked, but with Henry's muscle set and expression, and voice. "I rigged up that shower ten years ago. Got a roof tank that heats in the sun. Water keeps hot long enough into the dark to provide what we need."
Cathy said, "It's not very hot now."
"That's cause I just pumped the tank full before you ran over here. That water'll be too hot to stand under in a couple of hours."
The widow came into the small shower stall with Cathy. "This old body needs a wash, too. Don't waste the water. You can pump the tank full afterward. It doesn't take but a few minutes."
Cathy resented the intrusion. She had to stand pressed against the widow to share the weak spray. She said petulantly, "Why don't you have an electric pump?"
"Costs too much. Threw out the electric heater and saved ten dollars a month on electricity." The widow's big hands lathered and moved to Cathy's beautiful little breasts. "I love to feel your sweet titties, Cathy. Doing this makes me want to satisfy you again. You enjoy my loving so nice."
Cathy scowled. "Please ... Henry ... don't. I'm sore. That big thing. ... "
"Oh. I understand. That is a lot of man for a little girl like you to take. And you sure took it! I can see where you'd get sore inside." Henry didn't stop fondling Cathy's breasts. Her nipples were poking out again, being excited further, spreading the warmth.
He continued, "But you know, before I died, Gretchen used to love my other kind of lovemaking, which I cannot give to her now. But it would be a pleasure for me to give you that loving, Cathy, with Gretchen's agreement."
Cathy said weakly. "No, please. ... "
The widow surfaced for a few seconds to say, "Child, you let Henry pleasure you. He drove me wild with his mouth when he had a body. I want him to use our body now to give you that pleasure. It'll sure make you want to stay with us if anything will."
Henry took over the body again. The switches were very quick. Cathy was coming to accept the reality of the widow Gretchen Martin/Henry Martin schizophrenia ... the sharing of the woman's body by the two personas. The voices were so different, and the expressions and muscle fixes were so different!
Except ... Cathy knew Henry wasn't really real. He was a recreation by the widow's grief-stricken mind, a solution to the problem of intense loneliness and need. A denial of death.
Cathy recoiled from the other's touch. "I want to leave!"
"No, you come on, now. I'll show you how nice it can be. Nothing wrong with it, Cathy. Doesn't do no harm to anybody." He turned off the water.
Henry took Cathy's hand and towed her out of the shower, down the short hall, to the bedroom. "Get on the bed and let your legs hang over the edge. That's it ... that's fine ... now hold your knees up ... hug your knees ... show me your pretty little pink pussy."
Cathy closed her eyes and shivered with self-loathing and revulsion as the woman's mouth came to her slit. It was Henry but it was really the crazy widow doing it or was it? Cathy squeezed tears from her tightly closed eyes. It was crazy, too. for going along with it, for humoring the woman, for letting everybody dominate her like this. Even a ghost male could dominate her!
Yet the mouth was doing sweet, licking, sucking things to her slit. The woman's fingers held the vulva lips apart and her tongue licked tantalizingly in the wet. pink gorge, and flicked knowingly over the taut, sensitive clitoris.
Cathy clutched her knees to her chin and quivered with surging, ticklish, fizzing pleasure. This was a different kind of pleasure from fucking. It was a delightful pleasure Chris had given her that night in the Knebel farmhouse.
Cathy's belly began to flutter. She hissed with the keen rapture.
She tried not to think of who was doing this to her. She tried not to think of doing it to the widow. For Cathy expected that Henry would expect her to do it to the widow in his place.
Was it the widow who wanted it from her? Was all this Henry business an elaborate fake by a depraved, lustful old woman?
Cathy's mind seemed to melt. She began to pant into a swiftly escalating orgasm. How sweet it was! How intense! She trembled and keened in her throat.
The glowing, fizzing rapture receded from the peak, but continued on a high level. The woman continued to lick and suck in special places.
Cathy knew another climax was on the way. She could feel it gathering in her guts, in the peculiar buzzing tickling sensation that glowed in her loins ... tightening ... coming!
They heard the tinkle of breaking glass, the thudding, splitting sound of yielding wood.
Cathy screamed, "He's back! He's breaking in!"
The widow surged to her feet. Naked, still damp from the shower, she mouthed an o' i and went for the half-open bedroom door. "' , blow that bastard. ... " She ran heavily for the kitchen where the shotgun lay, forgotten, on the table.
Cathy was shaking. She was immobile, cuddled up in a fetal ball, whimpering, wanting to die, wanting to escape, wanting to kill, wanting to be somewhere else!
Fred was in the living room, bellowing, "YOU COME TO ME, GIRL! WIDOW! YOU KEEP OUT OF. ... "
"Git out of our house, Fred Dietz, or I'll blow your guts out!"
"WHAT YOU DOING NAKED? YOU BEEN DOING THINGS WITH MY GIRL? YOU widow hadn't had the courage or the need to shoot him. Maybe Henry had prevented her. The widow had him to keep her company why kill for Cathy?
Cathy felt betrayed. She felt weird relieved. Happy! She ran through the house to the bedroom, grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt from the closet and, panting, screaming to herself, ran out the back door toward the truck.
Fred was so close! He was yelling she heard fragments over her own desperate breathing as she groped frantically for the key. She whined and sobbed and her fingers closed over the key box. She pulled it free of the steel frame and ran three steps to the pickup's cab. She bolted into the cab and fumbled the key into the ignition. The engine turned over.
Her mouth was dry and fuzzy. Her stomach was icky with terror. She made sounds and wasn't aware of them.
Fred was only a few yards away. "Git outa there! Git out!"
The engine caught! She revved it and slammed into low.
The truck leaped forward. Cathy looked around and saw Fred angling to intercept her. She twisted the wheel and gunned the pickup in a power turn. The right-hand wheels lifted a few inches.
Fred tried to throw his shotgun into the rear of the open bed pickup, but misjudged. The gun landed in the dust. He cursed and scrambled to intercept Cathy again.
She found herself in danger of hitting the house. She turned sharply the other way, heading for the gap between the barn and the tractor shed.
Fred managed to gather his last reserves of strength and sprint after her. He had an angle.
Cathy floor-boarded the gas pedal. The truck roared between the shed and barn. She veered left and looked around to see where he was.
To her horror, she saw him clinging to the tailgate, one leg up and in.
She screamed and veered left and right sharply, trying to throw him off. She bumped into the fields, jouncing and rocking, but he clung tight, and was managing to climb into the back.
Cathy steered with one hand and reached over to roll up the passenger side window. Then her window. She locked the doors.
She steered for the farmyard again, and roared out onto the road. As Fred pounded on the rear window of the cab and shouted over the roar of the engine and the wind, she gripped the wheel tightly and kept the pickup racing at over 60 miles per hour.
Cathy didn't know where she was going. She made a turn onto Crazy Owl Road. She blinked fast, and a lightheadedness came to her. She laughed. She screamed over her shoulder at her father, "Now I've got you, you son of a bitch!"
She roared up the bluff road. She was breathing deep and fast, hyperventilating. Her eyes were huge, dilated. She was happy! She felt almost completed. Crazy Owl Lookout was only a few curves ahead.
Fred didn't realize what was going to happen until the racing truck was too close to the guard rail for him to leap free.
Cathy had the throttle to the floor. She saw the rail swept toward her heard the impact, felt the shock and then the truck was hurtling over the edge.
Two hundred feet below was a tumble of rocks and boulders.
In those first free-fall seconds, Cathy was at peace. Everything was equal, now. With instantaneous clarity and honesty she acknowledged that she had tried to kill her mother and had succeeded. She'd wanted her father and had gotten him! One thing had led to another. She had done everything she'd been told to do. Consciously and unconsciously. Wasn't this what her mother and father had wanted?
It was only in the last split-second before the terrible impact, before death, that Cathy realized she had been subtly programmed by the pair of half-insane people who had brought her into the world and raised her.
Her mother had been crazy, too.
She hated them both for what they had done to her!
