Some environments are made for sex. Lipton is such a place. It is a town where fucking is a part of its politics, its social life, and even its educational system. It's a place of which it has been said cock meets pussy more regularly than people eat; a place where the men-especially the powerful men of the community-can arrange to get their cock sucked twice during the five minute walk from railroad station to the city offices. Lipton is a place of sexual stamina. It's a community of many hard ons, and just as many moist cunts.
In Lipton, Kentucky power dictated sex activity. Employment is not always at full throttle in small communities. It wasn't in Lipton during the time of this story. Patronage was the basis of many jobs, especially those as teachers within the Lipton School System. And sex was the bartering media for the female teachers. All kinds of sex. Two men held the real power of the community, and there was nothing they liked better than pronging a twat with their rods or having a pretty girl's mouth working hard, slithering up and down their hard powerful cocks. This, to the powerful men, was the supreme example of their power, unless, of course, their particular taste at the time called for something else, like sixty-nine, or perhaps a hard go at a pretty girl's asshole.
Lipton, Kentucky.
Lust Town
A place of sexual havoc. A place where the powerful men try to live in a constant state of coming. A place where women like that too. Lipton, Kentucky. Cock Town. Cunt Center. Pussy Corners. A place of many nicknames and the drive to live up to all the names imply.
And so it is in Lipton that our story is set. The jobs were few and the people abundant. The cocks were stiff. The cunts were itching. And two men held most of the power, and used it for their own sexual gratification.
CHAPTER ONE
She was fabulous pussy, But she was damn well bored with men undressing her with their beady eyes, even though it was flattering. No woman, she felt, ever really gets tired of a man looking just once, no matter if she's older than sin.
At twenty-three, five-nine, thirty-six bust, twenty-two-inch waist, thirty-eight-inch hips, Polly Brooks was an ample-looking, tall blonde. She was long-legged, with an almost pretty face.
But then, who was looking for a face when the pussy cried for attention.
Polly was what the birds and bees were all about, the bushes, the sighs, the hot, sticky thighs grasping a hardened prick tightly, the seeking lips, the ever tightening arms, the whole bit. She knew .what she possessed, and just exactly where it would take her. Had she no morals, many men would gladly pay upward of one hundred dollars a night just to possess her pussy. But this wasn't her bag, although she didn't look down on her sisters for this affair. That was their business.
Luscious Polly Brooks stepped from her Volkswagen, creamy thighs flashing beautifully for a moment, wondering about this Friday night date. Or should she say invite? This wasn't a blind date in the usual sense. A hundred questions flooded her mind once she arrived at this powerful-looking place. She felt fear, but was also curious, and somewhat excited. She didn't expect it to be long. She only knew that Link Caldwell, the most powerful man in Lipton, Kentucky, had sent for her, and she'd been told he wasn't ever to be denied bodily presence when he requested it. Well, she was here. Would he have a hard on?
She wondered if she was teaching the children satisfactorily. Mr. Caldwell ran the School Board and was its most powerful member. She needed this teaching job to last out the year. She hoped that everything was all right. Her whole teaching future could balance on this meeting.
Walking briskly up the short walkway, much brisker than she felt, the short skirt tail popping, she rang the doorbell twice. The fall night was rather warm and humid for late September. But then, the south is always warmer, they say.
The man was tall, rather good-looking in a mature way, with a good, solid build, and not some old bastard as she expected, fumbling on a cane to keep from falling down. He couldn't have been more than thirty-six, if that old. There was a set glassiness about his eyes, as though he'd been doing some rather heavy drinking, but that wasn't her business. Her business was teaching, and he wasn't a pupil.
He invited her in, without inquiring her name, or nature of her business.
"I'm Miss Brooks, Mr. Caldwell," she told the tall man.
His arm helped her over to the couch. She carried the feeling that once that door shut, it sealed some ominous doom for her.
The time was nine on this early fall night.
"Take them off!" he ordered her without fanfare.
Amazed, Polly didn't quite understand. "Sir?"
"Don't be naive, my child. The shortest distance between two points is straight. So I'm straight-out telling you that I want every strip of clothing you wear off in less than five minutes, or I'll rip them off."
Her breath seemed to hang in her. The very nerve of this male animal.
"I won't do it," she snapped, stamping her foot impatiently.
"Miss Brooks, I appreciate jokes in their place, but not now. My humor is low, and I crack few. If you value your job and your brains, you will. Now take them off!" he barked.
She jumped from fear, beginning to back off. Every word had been delivered clearly and concisely, as though he meant to be clearly understood.
"Miss Brooks, Polly, I'll make this short. Either you drop those lovely clothes from your body, or you'll never teach in Kentucky, or anywhere else, ever."
He held up her contract in both hands as though to rip it apart.
It was a cold threat that stopped her completely. "You just can't do this," she stammered helplessly. "Have you no common decency?" He smiled coldly at her.
"Miss Brooks, Polly, a hard prick has no reasoning power. I'm in a fucking mood which makes my prick boss here. Unless you comply to help my prick soften, and also enjoy yourself, immediately, if not sooner, Lipton Grade School, First through Third, will need a new teacher promptly. You'll be immediately blackballed in this state, and the net results will be a looney bin for you, once the firing squad releases you. In fact, the records I will release will blackball you the world over."
"The what?" she asked, puzzlement in her voice.
"You Ve heard of fire down below, right?"
"Yessir."
Man, she was really a sweet thing. If she came through, he had a hunch she was going to make some lovely fucking.
"I'll cheerfully enlighten you, my dear. A certain woman once wanted to make trouble because I took her virgin daughter and made a full woman of her. Not by force, mind you, but rather choice. I couldn't have this, as I'm sure you understand the position I hold. Two men, built like studs, a lonely road, and you. One fills your buttocks with plenty of vaseline, then backs himself into a car, or something solid to lean back on. You are then forced backward to him, to receive fire below in your asshole. The second man nails you from the front at the same time, and little lady, when they finally release you, you aren't worth a quarter. Now you have exactly two minutes, my dear, or lose all."
She was trapped. The lesser of the two evils seemed much the better.
Slowly, as though hating every watchful movement of his hard eyes, she dropped her blouse. Then her skirt left.
"Care for a drink?" he stopped her.
"N-no, sir." The kindness in his voice was shocking.
"Miss Brooks, you might as well unbend and enjoy this. It's going to happen, anyway. Would you like a drink?"
"No, sir."
"Carry on."
Dressed now in panties and bra, garter belt and nylons, he was tempted to rip it all off, she resembled such a sexy goddess, but he wouldn't.
Goddamn, what exotic pleasures lay in store for me, he thought.
Polly was tall, but not bony. Her blonde hair fanned out about her shoulders, her oval face frowning and glowing red, with small, pert lips almost suppressed in a narrow line of pure, unadulterated coldness for this man. His eyes swallowed her lovely, full breasts, with no sag to them, her sucked-in stomach as though she was a weight-watcher, -rimmed in the middle by her panties, the suggestion of blonde down showing slightly, and her lush thighs. If this wasn't a lover's paradise, there never was one.
Polly was forbidden fruit that wasn't meant for every man to feast on. Big Link Caldwell was going to richly enjoy every thrilling moment of this woman tonight, and any other night he felt the urge. There was no wife to come home and that made it all the better.
Her bra and panties dropped to the floor.
"That's enough for now. Come here!"
Walking stiffly but proudly, she came to him, stopping just a touch away, breathing shallow, eyes slits of hate, nostrils almost flaring with the tremendous madness flowing through her body. Link clasped her down to him, running his tongue in her ear, licking and blowing, his hand caressing her blonde-covered cunt. Seeking her lips, he found her mouth cold but there.
Stepping away, he shucked his clothing swiftly, their naked bodies once more mashing sensually together. Though she was coming to him in disgust and revulsion, she couldn't stop that wonderful heat and smell of her. She felt his rock-hard prick rubbing between her thighs. His hands were hot on her breast, his tongue licking around her ear.
"My God, my pleasure!" he exclaimed, rubbing her breast almost violently.
He would kiss them, rub them, lick his tongue around them until they were glistening with wetness.
"I'm doing no worse than a true lover would. Get loose, baby," he moaned.
In spite of herself, his masterful attentions were arousing a subtle sensation in her body, as she could feel her wetness beginning to seep. Little trembling tremors coursed throughout. He could clearly feel them like the first rumblings of an earthquake.
"Please...." she moaned, her tongue running swiftly along slightly bruised lips, her breath coming faster, her hands rubbing along his thighs.
"Play with me," he whispered softly. "Don't," she sighed, caressing the steel pole softly.
Link forced her easily onto the carpeted floor, her small mouth receiving his hot kiss violently, returning it with a vigor of hotness. Her thighs rubbed along his, her hand rubbing up and down his back, his lips kissing her throat as he shook her breast violently. His lips planted fire-seared little kisses on her stomach, his hot, questing, seeking lips sending sensation after sensation coursing through her body, her breathing becoming like a fat hog after being shot.
Lower now, warming up to his actions, his probing lips sought out her hairy cunt, her legs really moving around, her body arching involuntarily.
The harmonious sounds she now made were pure, sweet music to his ears. She was fully ready to receive him, but he wouldn't stop. Unable to control herself any longer, Polly locked her thighs around his head, lifting them both from the floor, as her arching hips fully received the sensation of blessed release.
"Oh, my God ... oh, Christ, don't stop...." she screamed. "Ooooh, ahhhhhhh."
A violent shudder shook her throbbing body to its depths, as her hands now fought to push him away. His hands grasped each side of her hips, drawing her thighs closer to his gyrating tongue.
"Please, please, pleaseeeee...." she screamed. "Getaway."
When he finally let her go, she rolled into a lushy ball there on the floor, gasping for breath, her back to him. Looking down on her now, his prick harder than any brick, the full desire came over to grab her once more, to burst her butt hole, all that creamy ass turned up to him, but he wasn't in any rush now. She was his for this night-completely-and any time he wanted her.
He looked hard at her moist lips around her cunt, slightly bruised and flattened, but ready, her seed slowly crawling down her thighs like a slowly advancing snake.
Shaking ice into a glass, he poured himself a drink. Swirling it around a moment, he allowed the ice to melt and mix in just a bit. Sipping now, he looked at the still shuddering, lightly breathing ball of pleasure.
"Get up," he ordered her gently.
She rolled onto her back, looking up from shielded eyes.
"I'm weak," she cried.
"Aw, baby, you just need a drink."
"Yes," she agreed.
He mixed her a strong scotch and water. Taking a deep drink, she then raised slightly, where he could look up her cunt air the way, her seed still boiling around. He helped her up, squeezing her buttocks for a moment.
"Feel better now?" he asked, once she was seated beside him on the couch.
"Yessir. May I please go?" she asked him timidly.
"Answer me truthfully, honey. Do you really want to leave now?"
She was silent for a long moment.
"Not really, but I'm supposed to meet my boyfriend for a late date."
"Honey, I'm no one-shot man. In fact, I haven't fired that first shot. I merely did you the tremendous favor of warming you up, my dear. You are one shot ahead of me, but all things will even out. We have all night, and we're going to thrillingly enjoy it. Any further protest will be useless, so don't bother to utter any. Consider your friend as being stood up, Polly. Hell have to screw you later, if you have anything left."
"You don't know that we were going to," she fired at him.
"It doesn't matter, really. I know what you are going to do here. And that's all that counts."
She then finished her drink, refusing the offer of a second. He did likewise. He then retired to the bathroom, where he took a seltzer, thereby neutralizing the effects. He drank gin every day, but ate well, and took the pill. He could make a woman wish for faraway places when he got to her. Before leaving the bathroom, he took on a fresh supply of Klick.
"Tell me a little about yourself," he said, returning to her.
"What's there to tell? I'm a teacher, and want to be a good one. You know, it's funny. I used to read about such as this, a girl having to put out to gain or hold a job, but I never really believed it. I must have been pretty stupid. When I was a child growing up, I used to see all those fancy-dressed women, driving those fine cars, and really envied them. I began reading sex novels, and they told me how many of them got into the fine life. Their fault, I felt, but now I know better."
"Look at it this way, baby. A woman has sexual feelings the same as any man. And she's going to have a man. All right, so she sees this well-paying job she desires, and the man wants into that nooky to hire her. You give it to your boyfriend, and get nothing in return but accusations of other men, you don't love him, trash like that. There really isnt much difference between her giving him a free piece, than her boyfriend, only that shell gain far more from this union.
"A boyfriend only means jealousy, lousy accusations that aren't true every time a man looks at you, and sometimes, you might even get beat up. The other way, you gain adventure, get your kicks, plus a job and money, prestige, independence. How can you possibly lose in this manner?"
She looked at him incredulously.
"Mr. Caldwell, when you say that a woman feels the same about sex as a man does, you Ye almost right. But she also feels that she, and she alone, should be able to fully choose her sex partner without force. You place sex in the manner of a cold, hard business deal, and it's really not that way at all. Sex is the major part of love, I'll admit, but not all of it, a truly warming sensation not to be taken lightly. This way, we're no more than animals."
"Polly, is there any real difference in coming for love, or having it by force? Remember, you have to desire it to come. Now that's the real difference between man and woman. He can come anytime he shoves it in. A woman must be aroused."
"And you think because you aroused me, that was a warming sensation?"
"No, baby. That was white-heat." She blushed.
"You simply reduced me to animal form on that floor, but that doesn't mean it was love, or a warming sensation. It only proves I'm just a normal, healthy, young woman. To be honest, once a woman is aroused, she's much like a dog in heat. Any man that crowds her fast enough can get over, and make her enjoy it in the bargain, but that doesn't make it love."
"You sound as though you've had the experience before," he remarked calmly.
She was quiet and thoughtful for a long moment.
"I suppose I might as well tell you. When I was going to college, two men broke into my room located off campus. Before they left, they forced me to submit to just about every pleasure there is under the sun. I couldn't help myself once they really got me going. They made me beg for it, before it was all over. What you did to me on that floor, they did to me, but broke off abruptly, leaving me like an animal in heat. I gladly begged them for it ... They had a ball...."
Taking her into his arms, they shared a long, deep kiss.
"Don t love me like that anymore," she pleaded with him.
"Baby, I'll love you any way I please. You're built for long, hard sessions. Even when you're in pain, you're fully enjoying it. I once had a babe tell me about the first time she received a prick, hard as rocks, up her butt. This is what she said, and I quote: 'He was pumping it to me pretty hard, when it slipped out, and into my butt hole, while he never lost a stroke. I screamed from the pain, but it felt so good, I wouldn't let him stop, except to get on me from behind. With his hard prick shoved up my butt, his finger in my cunt, I couldn't hardly control myself.' Unquote. So you see, my dear, when a woman cries that something will hurt her, she merely means that she hasn't had it enough to really enjoy its richness, fullness. It's early, baby. We have all night, so let's not waste it."
"You arent going to try and shove all that up my asshole, are you?" she asked, fear in her voice.
"I might," he answered calmly.
"Mr. Caldwell, I've had it before that way. The night those two men got me, I damn near died, and neither of them were hung nearly as heavy as you. Please don't make me submit to that."
Her sleek hands began moving up and down his body, seeking him out. Just the feel of him thrilled her.
"Does your boyfriend make you feel this way?" he asked her quietly, licking the underside of her breast.
"Nooooo, darling. I've only had love made to me this way once before," she answered, rubbing his prick.
"Who was your first lover?"
"Please...."
"Darling, you should know by now I don't conform to any modesty, false or real. Whatever you say is between us."
"A boy named Andy, when I was fourteen ..;"
"I'll bet you screamed and cried all over the place," he teased her.
"Sure, I did, darling. How would you like having something hard shoved up you?"
"How many lovers have you had before me?"
"Oh, I don't know," she hedged, slightly annoyed.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of, baby. I've had many women."
"How many?" she asked coyly.
"I really can't say. I started out when I was twelve, and I'm thirty-five now. It's been a long and highly enjoyable twenty-three years."
"I've had five lovers before you, including the boy waiting tonight."
"Were any of them like me?"
"No, darling ... I can't wait...." she moaned, grasping him close to her.
Link took her high in his arms, seeking out the guest bedroom. Lowering her to the bed, her thighs immediately spread for him, her body arching.
"I'm going to make you come twice, then you're going to return the favor."
"Yes," she cried, anything to make him mount her.
She sincerely hoped he wouldn't be like those two that night. Both of them had made her French-love them, going off in her mouth. God, she wanted to kill them, herself, but they wouldn't let her. When one crawled away, the other mounted.
The first thrilling entry was gained. Just a little way in, as he teased her. The cunt grasped for it, the hot lips biting. Link teased her further by rubbing it up and down in the moist lips of her hot cunt. She threw her legs around his back, locking them. She was so hot by then, she could hardly stand it.
"Fuck me!" she screamed. "Don't tease me!"
She was wriggling about so hard, she almost threw them both off the bed. When she popped off first, screaming frantically, he then shoved it all in, drawing a pained moan from her.
And they went at each other violently, as though there was no tomorrow. And later, after they had gone over together, he felt her hot lips and tongue, teasing his prick deliriously.
"Do you like that?" he gasped.
"Pleasing you is my only aim," she mumbled. "I want to suck you, fuck you, do everything to you."
"But do you like it?"
"Yes ... oh, yes...." she cried.
And the night faded into a mushrooming cloud of sex.
CHAPTER TWO
Early in the morning, around four, he woke her once more, his slippery tongue diving intensely between her lush cunt lips.
"Oh, God, darling," she moaned, bucking. "don't you ever get enough?"
Both his hands clasped tightly to the squirming thighs, tantalizing, searing, thrilling.
"Baby, good cunt is hard to come by. When I get a really good one, I like to make a hog of myself."
One of her legs now rubbed backward along his sweat-gleaming back.
"But it's the same one that walked in here last night. Why won't you let me get a little rest? I'm so sore," she whined.
His answer was to plunge deep into her, with a searing thrill of entry, feeling her buckle under him like a bucking bronco, moaning out deeply.
"don't, oh, God, stop...."
Whispering, biting, scratching, he raised her. When she went, he thought she would break his neck. She pleaded with him to stop as her climax all but knocked her out. But he wouldn't. He made her go a second, shattering time, then made her turn about the favor fully, almost pulling her ears off upon his climax.
And she never once thought of killing him.
* * *
The time was nearing five-ten in this new morning. She would have to be up and gone by six. Caldwell sipped his drink slowly, looking off into the darkened downtown Lipton below. His home high on the hill made many people secretly carry the fear that one day, in case of a low, dense fog, it would be struck by a low-flying plane to crash and bum on the town below.
Far below, he could look over quite a bit of the town, the few car lights moving off toward Tennessee, some twenty miles away, their big night over, moving slowly in the early morning fog that nearly always moved in low off the Cumberland River.
Far down below, the lights of an almost ending night were about to give way to a beginning dawn, as daybreak was a little slow in getting started at this time of the year.
He glanced tenderly at the sleeping beauty, much used by him this long night, her legs thrown wide and hellishly, seeking the cool night air that would help ease the stinging and burning of the tender flesh.
God, he'd really balled into those thighs this night, and just seeing her cunt once more was arousing him fully, though he was so sore and tired he could hardly stand. The liquor, long hours and the heady work on that cunt were all getting to him strongly now. Maybe he was getting ready to die, but he just couldn't seem to get enough of the woman lying before him. Sure, he'd enjoyed many first nighters, but none like this that he could recall.
Maybe it was because those two men had raped her repeatedly a few years back, had released some animal in her, that would make all men crave nothing more than to die in her body. Hell, she was so complimentary in bed, a man just couldn't walk away. Every sexual pleasure known to man, she could make ring supreme, and there was no false modesty about her. How she was in school, he couldn't say, but in sex, she was power.
But how thankful he was to be in this most gratifying position. As head of the School Board in this town, his word was law. He was now thirty-five, and fully enjoying himself. Each year, for some reason or other, teachers had to be replaced. The turnovers weren't really all that bad. This year had been the worst. Four teachers had to be replaced, and four young females were all he could get, which wasn't bad at all. One of them had now paid her dues. The men teachers usually shy away from a small town, if truly dedicated to chasing cunts.
Mrs. Grayson had retired. Mr. Simpson's heart gave out. Miss Doolittle had gotten married. That woman he knew absolutely nothing about. She wasn't a looker, so he hadn't bothered with her. Somehow, she always treated him so coldly when they chanced to meet. Maybe he missed something very good there. Mr. Peabody had to be replaced because he murdered his wife. Seems he couldn't do anything for her, but a high school kid could. They made the fatal mistake of getting caught.
Miss Brooks, Miss Jones, Miss Hefferman, and Mrs. Peters were all going to be had by Link, or go by the firing squad. It was strictly their choice.
Sheila Romera had been the type that wasn't going to put out. Boy, that was some choice tail. She gave a man a ride long to be remembered. And she hadn't near the body of the frothy type Miss Brooks possessed. She even taught him a couple of tricks.
Sheila was engaged to be married. After a forced night with him and a forced night with fat, repulsive Robert Starks, she gladly ran back into his arms, whimpering that he could have her anytime, anyplace, anywhere he wanted. Just make Starks leave her alone. Cunt for protection from Starks.
Caldwell felt that if he were a woman, he would want a thousand dollars for crawling into bed with a man like Starks.
Also, he made her watch the Firing Squad work over a woman one night, before she gave in; before either he or Bob had her.
At Junctions 639 and 90, Link turned right onto 639, a black-topped road leading far back into the dense Kentucky woods.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked worriedly, fearing forcible rape.
"Shut up and ride," he barked.
Talking women got on his nerves, except on special occasions.
"I want to know where you're taking me," she insisted.
"don't worry, baby. Rape is beneath me."
"Is anything beneath you?" she asked him hotly.
"You're not beneath me."
"No, and I'll never be."
"Shut up and ride."
"How you'd like me to be beneath you, but I'm not," she derided. "You will be."
"Hah!"
"Baby, I can personally guarantee that you'll drop those drawers faster than Robert E. Lee dropped that pen after surrendering," he remarked.
"But you won't be around when I do," she replied, blushing to her pretty knees.
"I'll be there, and I'll have a stiff prick that will ride into your hot, juicy cunt, and you'll dig every wonderful minute of it. I'll make that thing pop so, you'll think I'm going to pop it right off your body. In fact, I'll make you so hot for it, each time you sit down and I'm going around, you'll squirm in your seat, stimulating the lips. So now you just shut up and await further actions from me. Before I'm finished, you'll be running after me nightly."
She laughed what was supposed to be a crippling laugh.
"Mr. Caldwell, I'm twenty-six years of age, and I've had sex in my life before. I know sex, and if I'm of a mind to, I can perform it any way a man chooses. It's simply two people bonding their bodies together in the most ridiculous positions under the sun, and both of them seeking a climax. Or in your gutter language, to come. When it's over, you're sweaty and dirty, though it's usually enjoyable fun. So now pray tell me, O Mighty Man, how are you going to make me so wild for it that I'll just rip your fly open?"
"Baby, actions speak much louder than words."
After riding for about five miles, they came to a dirt road that led further back into the black woods. Link turned left, slowing down his speed, as the big rocks along here could totally tear a modern car.
"Where are you taking me?" she almost screamed, alarm filling her voice.
"Ride easy, baby. No one will harm you unless I say so. Relax now. It's getting close to fly-tearing time. Perhaps you're now beginning to understand why I said what I said. A team of wild horses won't be able to drag you away from me after tonight."
"Ooooooooh, I get it. You're taking me back into these woods to frighten me into submission, or else I walk back to town, huh?"
She had to admit secretly he held the high cards. She would swallow all pride, and give him all he wanted before she would allow him to leave her back here.
"Nope!"
She felt somewhat better on that score. 'Then what is this all about?"
"Ride and shut up."
About five miles further into the woods, they came upon a wide clearing where, when the big moonshine raid came up last year, someone had accidentally set the last house in these parts on fire.
When Link doused his lights, another car already there before them turned its lights on. Two men, with a wildly struggling, naked woman between them, stood in front of the lights. Sheila watched in silence, fright making her eyes big, barely breathing.
"Stop them!" she screamed, struggling to jump from the car when she could stand it no longer.
"Stay in here and look," he ordered.
One man was now backed into the car, his well-exposed nakedness gleaming in the light. He was doing something to the screaming woman's buttocks, before she was forced back up on him.
Sheila could plainly hear her now pained screams fill the night. The second man, holding her with one hand, quickly dropped his pants. Sheila could plainly tell the woman was impaled upon the man in back, for she tried to break loose, but he continued working on her violently. The second man was now forcing his attentions upon her from the front. The man behind now held her arms high. The man in front gobbled on her breasts while hunching into her like a wind-driven jack hammer. The woman, held as she was, could do nothing but moan and accept the full treatment. A second crew was waiting to work on her, as there were four men in all. This would go on, each man having her both ways, until she broke.
Sheila, unable to look any longer, moaned pitifully, then slumped forward to the dashboard.
A very realistic show, Link felt.
"You see, my little darling, Link Caldwell has his way in this town regardless. Now will it be just me for the rest of this night, or will I turn you over to them to replace her, my dear?"
"Oh, God," she moaned.
"Call on someone that can help you, like me. I'm all that stands between you and them. Calling in the law won't help you any, because you'll have no concrete proof. I can't be connected with those men in any way. The woman is not important to any cause."
"D-do w-what you w-will with me. Just don't...."
The woman's screams, the sight of it all, had been more than enough for her.
When he got back to his house, she couldn't shuck her clothes fast enough.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" he teased her.
"Oh, my God, yes," she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Are you shucking those drawers for me?"
"Please....Take me before you change your mind," she begged.
"Why would I possibly change my mind?"
"You might be mad at me because I refused you before. Oh, I'm so sorry...."
She laid out on the couch for him, legs wide.
"Come on. don't make me wait," she begged.
Man, that had been a night to long remember. Once she got started, she wouldn't let him rest. Fear drove her desperate.
The woman and all four men received cash payments of one hundred dollars apiece the next day. Link wanted to know how she would emit such a horrifying scream from playacting. She sheepishly replied that was no joke. The man behind had accidentally slipped it home once. They all shared a big laugh over that.
Sheila would come across anytime he wanted her. The rest would follow suit, or face the same fate. And she would be jabbed up a little.
In thinking of Sheila, Link had become powerfully aroused once more. All his life he'd been this way. Polly lay almost on her stomach, her full buttocks gleaming whitely. Getting into bed gently over her, pulling her wet cunt lips apart, trembling with full lust, Link went into her powerfully from behind, the surge of air making a gurgling sound in her body. She squealed, coming to life.
"Get on me right," she cried. "You're hurting me something awful, Link. You're too big this way, and I'm so sore."
"Just roll this thing on me, baby."
In searing pain, Polly felt him bang her harder and harder.
"Don t hit me so hard," she pleaded.
"Shut up!"
He rode like a wild bull trying for the kill. When he went off in her, he forced it all in, drawing a long scream from her. When he slumped to her body, she lay there weak.
When Polly finally arrived back at the apartment she shared with the others, she was so thankful it was Saturday morning. She could have no more taught those kids than she could have stood another round with Link.
She didn't know yet about Mr. Starks.
From high on the hill overlooking Lipton, the scene shifts to the northern part of town, and the home of the second most powerful man in Lipton, Jack Lane.
"Harder, darling, harder," the slightly plump woman gasped, rubbing her hands feverishly up and down his back, her legs locked tightly with his.
He could clearly feel himself balling deep into her, then out. God, what a moment!
Her personal motto was: You're not too old if you're not too ashamed.
Jack Lane balled into his wife with renewed vigor, her arms now folded across his back vise-like, her legs entwined tighter with his-if that was possible.
"Jazz it to me good, baby," she cried harshly.
Goddamn, he was forty-six years of age, and she was forty. None of that change jazz seemed to be affecting this woman. Hell, she still craved a stiff prick almost more than she did twenty years ago. She could go more than many young chickens.
Why, just last week, Cindy, a high school junior, had begged him to let her be, and she wasn't faking as seen by her red, weary face, the sweated, straggly hair, the blotchy locking thighs. Man, she was whipped. Hell, she was young and tender, and should have been able to stand more. When he popped it to her the last time, she fainted. Her body was red, and whacked good. She worked part-time in his store, and to keep her job, she had to put out.
CHAPTER THREE
"Ooooooooh...."
Like a rumbling mountain crashing down around its base, she shook like a leaf from a hard-blowing storm, planting little, tender kisses all over his face, calling his name over and over.
"God, darling, that was so wonderful," she throttled, still thrusting the smoking pussy on him.
He smiled manfully, feeling himself still strong inside her, but knowing that he couldn't make another fuck right now.
"It's always swell with you, baby," he replied, patting her warm flank. "But work is calling me now."
She smiled faintly, sleep fast claiming her.
"Ummm, I'll be glad when tonight comes," she sighed, still somewhat gasping for breath.
"I'm glad you're mine, woman. Hell, I couldn't stand it if you didn't enjoy it like I do."
She smiled fondly, eyes closing for a moment.
"You remember, darling, twenty-three years ago when I first talked to you of marriage? You weren't much for it. I told you then we were ideally suited."
He kissed her long and hard, the velvet tongue grazing deliciously inside his mouth, her breast digging into his chest, her thrusted thighs seemingly trying to claim him once more.
Really, ennui just didn't stand a ghost of a chance.
"You always did know more about me than I knew about myself, dear."
"Uh-uh, darling, you just want me to feel this way. You know full well what you're doing at all times. You make me know you're the pants wearer here, and I dig that."
He laughed proudly, crawling from the bed.
"Have a lovely day, darling, and don't work too hard," she called out to him, then rolled over for more steep.
Lane shaved his craggy face carefully, noting the greying around his temples. Though he was forty-six, he could easily pass for a man in his late thirties. Standing six-four, he tipped the scales at a solid two-ten. He was manly strong, with hardly a paunch. He didn't exercise much, but didn't get fat either. And it was this that had made little Cindy beg for relief, plus what he had hung in her.
When he was ready to leave, he looked longingly at his easy sleeping wife. Boy, that piece of ass was never satisfied. Right now, if he woke her, she could go just as hard as if she hadn't had any for six months. What a woman! And she was all his.
Oh, well, off to work before he jammed her cunt once more.
Saturday was the biggest shopping day in Lipton. People would be buying all their weekly needs, from nine in the morning until ten at night; especially the far-out farmers that hated shopping during the week. Already the town was getting jammed, although it was still plenty early.
In anticipation of some new thrills, he'd deliberately shifted Debbie Kent's hours to conform with his quitting time. She'd been with them for one week now. She did a bang-up job, but so could many others. In this small town, few jobs paid over a dollar seventy-five. She would come across, knowing that the harsh soap and water of day work wouldn't pay as much. And anyway, most whites in these parts secretly felt that only blacks should do this type of work. So, to keep her job, she would have to play ball with him.
Debbie was twenty, a rape-type shape that just sent him drooling each time he saw her, big legs strongly muscled but in a feminine manner, and those God-sweet, lovely breasts. Why, goddamn, he could spend hours just playing with them. And with today's short skirts not hiding much, he knew she possessed a much better playground than his old lady. And man, that was some playground!
Hell, it wasn't really anything new. Old Doc Smith made his nurse put out regularly, although the old bastard couldn't do much, and she had to help him get ready. But you didn't see her running off. Hell, even Mr. Simpson died that way. It wasn't a widely known fact, but it was known that Mrs. Shulman had a rather brilliant son in Dale. It seems that Simpson wanted her in the worst way. It seems that he wanted her so badly, he was more than willing to try a wild chance to succeed. He told her that if she didn't come across, he would fail her son in English, thereby depriving him of an all-academic scholarship. It seems that she was too damned countrified and dumb to know that he couldn't do that without a lot of troubles for himself. A week later, she gave in, but apparently too much. He died on her from the overly rich excitement of her lush, hot thighs. She ran like a scared rat. Only one person knew of her being there-him. That had been four months back. He hadn't approached her as yet, since his wife and Cindy kept him plenty busy. But he would soon collect on this choice bit of information.
As the day wore op, he was much too busy to think about anything save work. Complaints upon complaints. Keeping a customer satisfied could be a damning thing. Where the hell did this bull about the customer always being right come from, anyway? Hell, the bastards could be wrong like anyone else. Such as Miss Long, a middle-aged spinster. The saying of you can't take it with you was a damned lie in her case. People would pay her to keep it. He wasn't saying she was ugly, but if it came to her or sin, God would take sin.
She regularly complained about the pork chop prices. Last week they were a dollar and ten a pound. This week, a dollar and seventeen. She definitely accused the checkout girl of cheating her. Hell, he had to jump in and go through a long session of explaining food prices continually rising while money wasn t.
"That's the way it goes, Miss Long. As you can plainly see, the price is clearly marked."
"You wouldn't be calling me blind now, would you,Jack?"
A few people laughed.
"No, ma'am, Miss Long." He played it straight.
When that was finally settled, he and Debbie looked at each other with mutual understanding. A point in his favor.
At five that evening, Debbie took her customary fifteen-minute break. The employees' lounge was empty, except for her.
"Tired?" Lane asked her.
It was hard to keep feelings and anticipation from showing plainly. Maybe he was counting on too much, too fast.
"Not really, Mr. Lane. That Miss Long nearly made me blow my top. If you hadn't stepped in when you did-"
"Aw, don't let them get you down. Oh, yeah, once we close tonight, I want you to stick around awhile."
Alarm covered her pretty face.
"But I have a date, Mr. Lane," she protested weakly, disappointment forming in her face. She wasn't supposed to work late.
Frig that silly date, honey, he thought.
"Miss Kent, how long have you been with us?"
Apprehension struck her. She just couldn't lose this job. Her sick mother depended on her.
"A-a week," she stammered.
"Now don't be frightened, Miss Kent," he soothed her. "Now as head of this store, I'm only human. Some day, I don't know when, I'll have to be replaced. I want you, starting tonight, at a raise in pay, and you don't have to announce this among the others just yet, to start really learning what makes a successful store tick. 'North and South' chain stores aren't smalltime, Miss Kent. Anyone just isn't allowed to even work for them, let alone be considered for moving higher. Suppose you learn this real well, and I submit your name as possible replacement for me? You were born and raised here. You know the people, and you definitely have the-I mean, personality. That counts heavily with 'N. and S.' I believe the chain is nationwide, and some outsider could alienate these people right away, because he wouldn't be able to understand or appreciate their individual problems as you would. We don't want that to happen. We desire happy, well satisfied customers. Homegrown managerial material fits this requirement better than any outsider ever could. Furthermore, thinking on a strictly local term, I want you to begin learning the bookwork right away. As I've said before, this will mean a slight raise in pay, and I'm sure you can use the money."
And with that, he turned and walked away, almost running headlong into Mrs. Shulman.
"Why, hello there," he smiled congenially.
Unless one really knew what to look for, this woman seemed supremely happy. Her son was in Louisville University on a full four-year academic scholarship, and life couldn't possibly be better. But he knew. The little worry pinches around her eyes; the way sudden-like things upset her; the quick darting of her head and eyes. That deeply suppressed secret was about to get her down.
"How are you today, Mr. Lane?" she inquired, her worried smile friendly.
"Fine, thanks, and you?"
"Just fine, and just a little lonely."
"For Dale?"
"Yes."
"Mrs. Shulman, I sincerely hope you won't take this in the wrong manner, but I'd like you to do me one big favor. Don't you worry that boy so hell give up all just to return here. don't get me wrong. Lipton is just fine, but a young man like that really needs his education. You've fought so dearly to get him just this far, don't destroy all that now, please."
There was a slight tightening to her features.
"Well, I'm rather in a hurry."
He didn't attempt to hold her any longer.
Evening time flourished in, bringing a symphony of sameness. A small country town with nothing much on hand to do but flood the mile center until certain hours at night, then retire to home. Maybe a movie, maybe a trip to the Greyhound ticket office, even though buses came no closer than about twenty-five miles from here, but mostly just doodling with some hot woman, and getting a few kicks before the sameness of another day ended with sleep.
"... Bobby, I have to work late tonight, and that's that." Debbie was explaining to her boyfriend.
"But why, dammit all to hell? We had this thing all lined out two weeks ago, and you know it. Let me speak with Mr. Lane," he suggested.
"Heavens no, Bobby. You know I have my sick mother to support. Can you afford to help me with her, in case he fires me because of you?"
"You know damn well I can't, and that's not the point anyway. That guy was young once, hell understand. If he fires you for a date, then you don't need the damn job anyway."
"You gotta be sick," she frowned. "Bobby, I know that you're hurt and disappointed, but this extra work means more money, and I desperately need it, as you well know. I even had to miss my college education because I'm supporting mother. So perhaps you'd better leave, and come by the house later."
He wheeled without another word, leaving her alone in front of the store.
For a small moment, she felt so small, frightened, and all alone. Would she ever get a college education, and be able to enjoy her boyfriends like other girls?"
At last, they were alone. Debbie had sent her boyfriend on his way, and while she was doing that, he was pulling all the shades. He wanted no interruptions while baking this cake. He was going to French fry those buns in boiling come, and make her love every thrilling moment.
"Now, to the business at hand, Miss Kent."
She smiled faintly, somewhat afraid to be alone with him this way, a little nervous about her chances to be moving up so soon. They were alone in his private office, the shades drawn, the only lights to be seen in the store were the night lights. No one really would think them to be here.
"How well do you really like your job?" he asked her, rubbing his palms together.
She shyly looked at him for a small moment.
"Why, just fine, Mr. Lane. And I really need the money, as you well know."
Smoking, baby ... Those buns are going to be smoking....
"I imagine your mother's bills are rather costly."
"Yessir, they are. She must have two shots a day, and they are five dollars apiece."
Now, he could be a good Joe, and pay for those shots for some of that nooky, but he'd rather not. "Hmmm, that is trouble...."
"Almost more than I can bear," she sighed. He walked over to her then. "Well, Miss Kent, I don't want you to think hard of me."
She deeply feared that she was going to be fired, and that this talk earlier was just to keep her mind off it. Tears silently crept through her eyes.
"I don't think hard of you, Mr. Lane," she sobbed.
He went on as though she hadn't spoken...." but unless you get yourself naked and over there on that couch, with that fine, juicy cunt ready to fully receive my prick, you aren't going to be working here any longer."
Give it to them straight from the shoulder, let all the facts out into the open.
She gasped, a sob catching in her throat, knowing what he was saying, but unable to really comprehend fully, feeling somewhat elated that she wasn't going to be fired right off, wishing now that she'd gone with Bobby, but her sick mother needed medicine and each was a cash payment.
"I-I don't understand, Mr. Lane."
He grinned, seeing that she hadn't run out.
"Yes, you do, honey. don't play games with me. You've understood ever since you were fourteen or so, and that big man impaled himself inside your luscious thighs on that clod of dirt. I'm talking about fucking you, and I know you clearly understand. Do you want to play ball, enjoy yourself, earn a little extra in your paycheck, or do you want to be out in the cold?"
It was clearly her choice.
"I! You! I-I couldn't," she hedged.
He could already feel those warm thighs snuggling to him, pumping like pistons.
"Then your final pay will be ready Monday morning when we open for business."
"Mr. Lane!" she sobbed.
"Unless you consent to play ball, there's no need of further talk." He was brutal.
She was already one hundred dollars in debt, because of her mother, unable to make any real headway with this bill. All future medications had to be cash. The bills would really pile up, plus her mother might die.
She remembered well what he was talking about. When her father had been alive, and, oh, how she missed him, they had owned a farm, with hired help. One of them, a six-footer, had sweet-talked her down into the cornfield one day. What had happened then consisted of pains, screams and sweet remembrances of a man that had drilled her to perfection. Many times after that, she'd gone back with him. Her father had died, and all hell broke loose. He was so far in debt, they lost everything. Her mother eventually worried herself into sickness. And now here she was.
"Please don't fire me, Mr. Lane. You know my personal circumstances well, and you know I really need this job. Please don't," she begged.
"Are you a virgin, Miss Kent?"
The question took her by complete surprise, and she answered him, "no," before she thought.
But it really didn't matter, for he already knew. "Then, Miss Kent, there, on that couch, can be another of the many heated, thrilling sessions we are to learn about one another. Now it's not going to be prolonged, or I'd offer you a drink, some dance music on the radio, and all that sentimental jazz that eventually leads up to what we want most. Now shucks, get them drawers away from that hole, and let me plug it. C'mere."
Debbie walked stiffly to him", to the edge of the desk. Drawing her close, he smelled her for a long moment. The dim wisp of perfume still clung sweetly to her body, the smell of work mixing in delicately. But most of all, she smelled of woman, powerful in her movements, strong in her needs. He kissed her resilient lips wantonly, screwing his mouth hard on hers, jamming his tongue deep into her mouth. She could smell and taste some sort of funny smell on his breath. He was old enough to be her father, his lips on hers, his hand rummaging under her dress, and she was going to fuck him because she needed money more than honor.
"How long will you keep me?" she asked him resignedly, feeling his hand so powerfully caressing her soft buttocks.
"Just long enough, my dear," he replied, slowly squeezing each cheek, as though he might be drawing a map.
Unbuttoning her uniform down to the waist, Lane relieved her long, silken arms of the nylon material, tying the sleeves around her loosely. He kissed her warm flesh just below her amply filled bra. He felt her suck in her breath. Whether from shame, disgust, or desire, he didn't know, or care. Releasing her bra clasp, her breasts were allowed to flow fully and deliciously. For a long moment, his hands and mouth ravaged her breasts, working the tips into a state of particular hardness that had her breathing heavily. When he returned to her lips, her tongue shot hotly and unashamed into his mouth, grounding and working, coursing a thrill down to his wiggling toes. He crushed her to him, feeling her arms snake about him tightly.
"All these clothes are making me so hot," she sighed seductively.
Lane pushed all of her clothes down at once. The full sight that met his eyes nearly made him pop a gut. He couldn't help himself. Meshing his lips into the brown cunt, he could feel her wiggling and squirming about in his arms, her lifted legs allowing his lips and tongue to work freely.
"Ooooh, aaaaaah, don't....please....
Hmmmmmm, stop now. You are going to make me go before I'm, ooooooh-ready. Aaaaah, oooooooh," she pleaded with him.
"Baby, baby, baby," he moaned over and over, kissing her strongly now, forcing her to bend backward over his desk, feeling her body swing into a wiggle of no return, his tongue driving, thrilling, searing.
"don't, don't, don't...." she moaned.
"I'll be right back, baby," he hoarsely told her, jumping away before the last second, feeling her slump in disappointment. She fell away to the couch, averting her eyes from his, a crying expression on her face, a soft cry escaping her lips, her hand now pressed to her mouth. He knew she was about ready to pop, and he'd stopped her just in time.
Retiring to his private bathroom, Lane lubricated the head with a cooling medication that ceased all natural feelings.
"I thought you had deserted me," she teased, one of her legs raised almost to her head, as she lay on the couch, the other on the floor. The pink stripe was all he could see, all he wanted to see.
"You'll wish I had before I'm finished."
"You promised not to be too long," she reminded him.
"Just long enough, my darling."
Her legs were locked into his, as her hips arched to fully receive him.
"Take me," she moaned, feeling the hard prick in her down.
Easing just the head in, Lane lunged his body deep, hearing her gasp out, her thighs rocking. Taking her strongly, Lane felt her trying to back off, but forced more into her. She was close built, and couldn't take it all right off. She cried out, wiggling her thighs about. She didn't plead with him to stop as she cried out he was hurting her.
"Work that nookie up to me, mommy. Give it all to me," he begged.
He knew that he was getting more than she'd given in a long time.
When they were finished, she began kissing his sweated stomach.
"Come on, baby. The animal is hungry," she pleaded.
"Let me rest for a moment, baby." He tried to push her off.
"Uh-uh. You forced me to submit, and now I'm alive. You're going to make my body die."
With that, she pounced on his prick, her slippery tongue making him moan. Switching her body around, she forced him to return the favor fully each time he cried help. He was sobbing from the thrills her tongue was throwing on him, and trying to get away from her. What had he stirred up here this night?
The night exploded for them. It was a smacking, sucking night; she being the very best of cocksuckers; he cunt-lapping as if he had been born for that alone.
It was near one when Lane forced his protesting wife back into bed, the gin in his body forcing him onward, the medication helping him to hold up, exotic memories of Debbie fogging his eyes. He hooked one of her legs behind his neck, then pummeled her until neither could stand.
CHAPTER FOUR
Coming along Kentucky 90, into Lipton, a tourist or a visitor returning home once more wouldn't fully realize the inner turmoil or resentful emotions deeply inflicting this community of fifteen hundred, or slightly plus.
One would see only the slight beauty of a very small, southeastern Kentucky town, nestled into slate-like hills not too far from the Tennessee border. People walked the streets of the town center, the courthouse seated squarely in the middle, surrounded by the main store, drug store, bus ticket agency and various sundry smaller enterprises.
One would also see some of the inhabitants with deeply furrowed brows, worried about their future, once the actual tearing down of homes started for the Inter-State.
For a man well used to his personal comforts, a town of this size could damn well be a nuisance, even though staffed with two motels. This was dry country to add to the nuisance. But it was Pussy Town too.
But let it be known far and wide, though most of the people around here were farmers. and bootleggers, they were not dumb in any sense. There was television from Nashville, a weekly town newspaper, papers from Glasgow and Louisville, radio, and people traveling to and fro with news. The school system was one of the best for a small town, as there was no real tax problem to battle over, such as in the big cities.
This was Lipton, a small Kentucky town, a town of pussy and cock.
But for Link Caldwell, this was home, and had been all his life, except for army, college and various trips away on business. Even before the Civil War, Caldwell's ancestors had settled here. They drew up plans, zoned, and settled this community, even to the naming. Down through the years, unlike many names, Caldwell didn't mean overpowering riches, in the terms of pure money. Oh, no. They had something far more powerful besides influential powers. They'd always had plenty, and no one was truly willing to buck them. Ask the city cemetery.
The power the Caldwell name possessed in this town wasn't anything one was willing to discuss openly, or even try to tamper with. Word gets around when the wrong one hears it, and trouble develops. link Caldwell realized this power fully as a child. He was given, or took, just what he wanted, with no protests coming forth, without the risk of limb and life. In those days, he had two older brothers. They took up for him against anyone, and what they couldn't finish, the old-man, with his hired help, really moved aside. But death has a way of being an equalizer.
The older brother had been killed in World War II. The next brother had been killed in the Korean conflict. The father had been struck with a stroke. But Link Caldwell was old enough then to fully realize just what he held, and the townspeople wouldn't buck him any more than they would before.
Link Caldwell understood this fully at the tender age of fourteen. Mrs. Crosetti had a lovely, budding daughter of twelve. It didn't matter to Link that sex wasn't supposed to be a part of her formative years. When her mother caught them together, drawn by her young daughter's cries, she protested and loudly. She was found three days later, raped senseless. Her daughter, thrown aside by Link two. years later, went on to fully to become the town's biggest roundheel before she moved away to Glasgow, eventually to be killed by an unsuspecting, highly jealous husband.
It wasn't even discussed secretly that Link's father had hired three men to take care of that loudmouth, troublemaker Mrs. Crosetti.
When Link turned thirteen, his oversexed cousin had taught him the facts of life, in a back bedroom. He thought he was. pissing in the warm confines upon his first climax. She merely laughed at his embarrassed whimperings, calling him silly, then pulled him back down to her.
At the age of eighteen, having taken the Mayor's daughter out one night, he made her produce with the buns before he returned her home, threatening that he would throw her into the Cumberland River if she didn't come across. When she wanted to know how he would explain it to her father, his explanation frightened her so badly she helped him all she could. Furthermore, although she could swim, the water was cold and messy. Anyway, why fight to protect something her father's assistant was using secretly anyway?
Returning back to town at a rather high rate of speed, he ran the town's only policeman off the road, completely demolishing the car, breaking the poor man's arm. As it was in the winter, it was merely polished off as icy roads that caused him to skid. Especially by people not caring to rock the boat. But Johnny Poston knew better. He soon resigned, knowing that if he ever told the truth about how it really was deliberately done, thereby causing public embarrassment to the Caldwell family, he might as well give his soul to God, because his life wouldn't be worth a plugged nickel. He soon left town, a broke and beaten man.
When Link reached the age of twenty-nine, his mother passed away, leaving full rein of power to him and in a position to hurt many. He was head of the School Board and Chairman of the Town Council. What more did he need?
Link Caldwell presided over this community of fifteen hundred with an almost iron hand. His word was law, if he deemed it so. Of course, the lesser elements in the line of power pushed what they could, but Link was law, and all knew it.
But even in all this power, there was one good thing he stood for. He deemed that every child in the Lipton School System have the very best education possible, even if it meant extracting money from his pocket with which to purchase the books. And the teachers had to be the best, interested and patient with the children, even the so-called slow heads. As this was a small place, time could be spent with them. Any child that didn't get an education in Lipton had no one to blame but himself. Or his parents, if they kept them out of school for various reasons. He allowed no child to be mistreated by anyone on his payroll, no matter what creed or color. All teachers were faithfully instructed about this matter and anyone caught going against the rules was in for big troubles. He thought nothing of firing one for this reason, and it had been done before. He tolerated no nonsense when it came to the matters of education.
And why? He held a fetish about the big city trying to lord it over the small community, simply because it was supposed to be far richer, more in the know, the total more that supposedly leads to bigger successes. Every child that came from the Lipton School System would be able to fully compete with anyone on college entrance exams. Of course, he couldn't control the exceptionally bright people, no matter what, but the average ones would not beat his kids. Of course, in the matters of total polish, the city kids should have it.
Robert Starks, School Board Member and secretary in the Town Council, Jack Lane, the "North and South" chain store president and executive manager in this area, and vice-president under Caldwell on the Council and cousin to him by blood, although this wasn't common knowledge, and Noah Connors, Lipton School System Principal, were the chief threats to replace Caldwell if ever he wasn't around.
Jack Lane, forty-six years of age, felt that he was overworked in the store, and town problems, also. He was a very successful man by any count, but his many duties were beginning to rob him of many hay-rolling sessions with fresh cunts. Debbie Kent was the brightest person on the staff and the newest. Her sick mother must be treated seven days a week, plus sometimes at night. This called for money. So she played ball, and now he was going to begin delegating more responsibility her way, thereby gaining more free time for himself. Why, just last night he was humping Cindy pretty good, when it suddenly dawned on him about bookwork. Much to his regrets, and her relief, he had to cut early. He'd now made a careful study of this business, and the hours between six and nine were the dullest for him. And it was during this period that he had to find something fully exciting to do. With Debbie running things, after she was well broken in, he could sneak away.
To get a job in the store, the women had to come under the firm, strong hands of Lane. If they refused to bun with him, they couldn't work in the store. And to find well-paying work in this small town could be hell. And man, he was living great.
Fat Lula didn't want to ball with him, but finally he was able to pry those fat thighs apart and soaked in that good cunt until she cried.
A few years back, to teach, their first test came under Starks, the fat, repulsive man. When Caldwell first heard about this, he quickly scheduled a meeting with Starks. The riot act was read, some of his powers stripped away. Hell, he might sneak into something Link really desired. Hell, his old lady was enough for him. Now Connors could have himself a private party, if he could find the time. His wife was rather busy in community projects, and found little time to be jealous, plus the fact that Link didn't have the wary eye out for the handsome, likable guy.
But none of them bothered any of the women anymore, after word got around about Starks, unless Caldwell turned thumbs down on them, or just didn't bother.
Polly Brooks, Anne Jones, Marlene Hefferman and Ginger Peters, the only married one of the bunch, pushed their 62 Ford down the old highway in record time. It was very hot on this August day, as they were just twenty-two miles from their destination. They were all from Glasgow, all but Ginger educated in Bowling Green, and now here.
Ginger had gone to Louisville, where she married her husband, who was a coming sales manager of a popular department store there. He'd tried to talk her into staying home this year and wait for that opening in Louisville the coming January, but she desired this experience. So he finally relented. It wasn't known then, but Link Caldwell would make him regret this decision for as long as he lived.
"Almost here," Marlene remarked, sipping her gin drink.
She made them up as the car zoomed along. As they were now entering Cumberland County, dry as hell, she sadly pondered her situation. She simply couldn't live without her drinks, and they weren't sold openly here. The Louisville-based State School System really socked it to her.
Polly, the driver, getting ready to trade this thiiig for a Volkswagen, feared to let her eyes drift from the road, crooked as hell. The old, two-lane road, with cars and trucks rushing toward her, could be a death trap. It was very easy to run swiftly upon a country farmer taking a slow ride on his tractor or, coming out of a blind curve, to run upon two farmers, with both lanes blocked, talking in the middle of the road. This was common, and having been born and raised less than forty miles back, she was well aware.
"The little country bumpkins aren't going to learn anything anyway," Anne commented.
"Tch, tch," Ginger sighed. "How are you going to teach kids anything, Anne, when they're more interested in the birds and bees?"
"Did I hear someone mention between my thighs?" Marlene spoke up.
They all shared a laugh over this.
"Nothing to it," Marlene chipped. "We teach, whether they learn or not. Next year, we leave or we stay. What difference does it really make, anyway? Most of them already don't give a damn, anyway. From the age of twelve, they see a girl developing, and already they think of what's between her legs rather than what's between the book covers. The girls see the boys, and think of what's hanging between their shorts, and how to find out if two and two really makes four. Most of them will be pregnant by fifteen, married by sixteen, with the future of one crumb snatcher right after the other, because they simply cannot escape the clutches and curiosity of some male's hardened manhood in the dark. Before they realize it, the boy is excited and isn't going to accept no for an answer. So, in the very promising darkness, they feel something hard rammed into them, and they react. Nine months later, their reactions are more statistics for the ever jumping population.
"So you see, girls," she sighed, finishing up. "Our little expenditure just might be worthless."
A serious quiet developed between them.
"I don't quite believe it's all that bad," Anne commented. "But there's plenty of truth in what you say, honey."
"You talk as though from experience," Polly spoke up, teasing Anne.
"I was born and raised in this country, honey. I know a little about a lot of things. I don't deny whatever I've done, and I'm not ashamed of it. But the point is: I didn't go hog wild for whatever I got."
"In that respect, we all know something of life," Ginger concluded.
"Our mellow little wife is merely saying that she shopped around before settling down to one prick for life," Marlene said.
They all laughed over that.
Robert Starks, fourth in command in this town, as far as school went, and only that, was an angry man. When it came to far bigger, more powerful, far-reaching decisions, especially concerning the welfare of the town, Link Caldwell and Jack Lane were the ones to see. Of course, many tricks had been tried to get around them, but somehow, somewhere along the way, their vast influences had to be met head on. No man was ever struck by lightning to come out completely unscratched. And so it was when facing these two.
Starks deeply resented this fact. Though mostly everyone considered him a fat, repulsive man, especially the young, soft, long-limbed women he craved so badly, he thought of himself as being Mr. It. Hell, he could cut quite a swarth with the women, if they'd only let him.
Five years ago, the big resentment toward Caldwell really got its start. Starks came up through the ranks. He toiled long and lonely hours to reach this plateau, never defaulting any given orders. And so it went. After twenty-three years of full service, the first eighteen most faithful, the last five more resentful, he was getting awfully fed up. When he didn't get the job Link now held, that was just the beginning. Two years ago when luscious Miss Pamela Doolittle came to town, Starks couldn't even look at her without bursting a gut. After almost a month, he couldn't hold it any longer. He approached her with a final ultimatum: either come across with that nookie, or get out. She ran to Caldwell and squealed, the shapely bitch.
"Mr. Starks, you and I crossed paths three years back. Then, I deeply felt we could be friends, with a little understanding on your part, but I now see just how wrong I was. The time has now come to fully rectify that little oversight. I want you to understand this fully and clearly. I'm well aware that you have twenty-one years of service in the Lipton School System, and in the town as well. I'm also well aware that you resent my being in this position over you. You think that my money, position and influence got me this spot over you. Well, you're goddamned right.
"Yes, I have this position and I can crush you like so many worthless grapes under my feet. Permit me to make myself clearer; you try pushing one more teacher into bed against her will, and your fat butt will soon know the full wrath of my powerful blow. Miss Doolittle came here to teach, not screw every body-hungry male on the prowl, unless she wants to. And you damn well had better remember this fact. If she does something detrimental toward the children, and my personal investigation fully and clearly determines this, then, and only then, she's automatically out.
"Now, in case you're harboring any retaliation toward this woman, forget it, because I'm going to check on this situation closely. And if you so much as try to lean on her, even slightly accidentally, give your soul to God, because you belong to me.
"And as a further reminder, you no longer have any voice whatever, under any terms, in the Town Council meetings. If you wish to attend, that's fine by me. If not, then you might be missed. And furthermore, you have now dropped a notch or two in regard to your School Board membership, which means that you don't bother any teachers anymore, male or female. You step out of line one more time, and goddamn your fat soul to hell, because I'm going to break you in half.
"That will be all," he finished coldly.
He never once raised his voice, but a cold sweat broke out on Starks as he spoke.
Many months later, Starks, returning from up the road, saw her car turn" up a winding road toward his house. He followed at a safe distance. When he finally summoned up enough nerve to leave his car and take a peek, Link was literally eating her breast off, her eyes closed, and her loving every minute of it. She didn't come out of that house until four in the morning. All night long he watched. All day long he watched her, and she was sleepy as hell.
He wouldn't ever know that Caldwell had forced her to do what he wanted.
Starks opened his eyes on this hot Sunday morning. His ugly wife lay beside him snoring, her tobacco-stained teeth showing clearly, her night breath not too pleasant. God, if only he could be satisfied with this one woman. She was ample down there, even if she didn't like getting it jammed as often as she once did. But he was a man nearing fifty-five, and time was swiftly going by. Hell, his wife couldn't seem to keep him supplied and satisfied. Hell, he just didn't have the money to buck Caldwell.
She didn't nag him about losing that much desired position, but her sense of his personal failure was there. He looked down at his sleeping wife for a moment, a yawn forcing his eyes closed.
Her ruddy, ugly face lay tight in sleep. Her flat, small breasts showed clearly through the thin gown. Hell, she might as well sleep naked, as her gown had worked up around her breasts. Her stomach, going to fat, wasn't too large, as it tapered off into fleshy, jutting thighs. Her legs were slightly spread, one drawn up at the knee. He could just climb on her and ride until he couldn't....
Leaning over her, the smell of her body strong, not nasty stinking, but a strong, woman smell, his wild mind thought of something he'd been wanting to try with her. He hadn't ever before tried it with her, but many times with others.
Leaning in closer, his tongue moving out of control, the saliva-laden instrument of this love joined with her, tasting, savoring the delicious saltiness. She immediately jumped, trying to get away.
"Wooooo. What are you doing to me?" she cried out sleepily.
His hands were holding her thighs tightly, enabling him to control her.
"Bob," she sighed. "Ooooooooh, Bob." Her thighs began to thrash about.
This new sensation was something she hadn't ever experienced in her life, not even with any of her lovers. She felt shamed, yet sensualized beyond comparison. Not trying to get away now, her body arching to him, her head thrown back wildly, harsh sounds coming from her lips, she began going wild under him. Her expressed features grew tighter and uglier. Her movements became more intense, her legs locking high on his back. And when she could stand it no longer, her body gave its rough, well familiar heave, and she screamed, her fingers digging frantically into the bed, almost rocking them both off. When he fell from her, she clung to him, throwing herself frantically on top, her body coupling with his, both her legs jammed between his, as she moved her body like a rowboat, roughly and harshly.
What a way to be awakened!
He jammed one Of her small breasts into his mouth, biting it lightly. Her hands locked on either side of his head. The head of his prick was taking a terrific beating from the highly aroused woman. There hadn't been this much sex between them since he missed that position. She groaned, rocking wildly now. He couldn't hold back any longer, raising himself frantically to meet her every thrust, gripping her buttocks tightly. Off they went together. He cried out from the terrible beating she was giving him, locking his legs with her, but nothing slowed her. It was as though he'd broken a tiger loose inside.
Like a wild, hungry, long-starved sex machine, she was at him, even after their explosion. Grimly determined to keep up, he fought. Even when he felt he was finished, her oral manipulations egged him onward, and she was hungrily at him once more, switching her body around for them to favor each other fully, more deliriously.
Later, totally spent, they gasped for much-needed breath, fully fed now.
Man, he was glad there was no heart attack!
CHAPTER FIVE
Ginger Peters, a vivacious, stunning, well-built brunette, short, dark-complexioned, two years of good marital fucking behind her, remained seated, her 36-24-38 frame digging seriously the sordid tale of enforced love Polly cried forth into her ears alone. My God, what manner of man, she felt.
She was secretly fuming, amazed that such a man actually lived, that could pop it to a woman time after time, and not poop out just when she wanted-most to go. Outwardly, she appeared deeply upset. How could one man possibly think himself so powerful, he could demand a woman submit her body for his personal use, or be fired?
"I've been had before," Polly was saying quietly. "But never like that one man had me last night, all night. The man just couldn't seem to get enough. It's as though in sex, he's not quite human."
This was late Saturday morning, after the fateful night before, and the other girls had gone shopping. She related many of the more intimate details for Ginger's eager ears, though she played down her real interest.
"I've heard these small-town men are something else," Ginger remarked quietly, as though she hadn't been born in a slightly larger town.
"You'll have your chance to find out just how he really is," Polly told her knowingly.
"My husband will break his neck," Ginger replied strongly. "And mine, also," she felt.
"Something really should be done about him. After I lay weakly on the floor, I begged him to let" me be, but he wouldn't. At five-thirty this morning, he was still ready for fucking.
As Polly lay sleeping fitfully, every once in a while whimpering in her sleep as she was still very sore and bruised at the pussy, and dreaming of Link, Ginger had a real chance to think about her remarks about Caldwell. Somehow, though it .really shouldn't have, it got next to her.
She was far from being a virgin, but somehow, though it was sordid as hell, and equally against all rules of decency, she felt that old, wild stirring in her cunt. She knew that some men were hogs about sex, and especially one new, soft and fresh to play in, soak in, wallow in, fuck with.
Ginger had been born in Glasgow, not too far from here, to parents that were neither rich nor poor. She had grown up in the beautiful luxury of love. When she was but thirteen, she found herself walking among the cool woods surrounding her home one hot summer day. She was humming to herself when the man came into view. For a moment, she'd been almost frightened, but no harm could come to her, she thought. Life around these parts was farming and taking it easy. But how was she to know the man was an escaped convict on the run? Anyway, they approached each other quietly.
"Hi," she spoke to him softly, but cheerfully.
"Hi, yourself, sweetheart. What's a nice little girl like you doing running all alone through these bad and lonely woods?"
"Oh, nothing. I walk like this all the time. Nothing can harm me here."
The hell it can't, he thought.
"Are you kidding? With all the rattlers and copperheads running around loose, I wouldn't be out here myself if I didn't have to be."
"Why are you out here?" she asked innocently.
Smart little bitch.
"Looking for my lost dog. You seen one running around here anyplace?"
"No, I haven't. Is he pretty?"
"Quite. So, you're out here alone, huh?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"Because I feel that it's dangerous for you to be out here alone."
"Uh-uh, Mister. I walk like this all the time."
"Don't your folks mind?"
"Not if I have my homework done."
"And being such a sweet, well-raised little girl, you have your homework done, right?"
"Yessir."
You deserve a reward, and I'm going to give you a big, fat, juicy, hard one.
Ginger was short, but with the mentions of a sexy build even then. She hadn't filled out all the way, but the muscles in her legs were strong and plenty sexy looking. The little buds of breasts could be taught to respond to touch.
"What time are you expected back home?" he asked her.
"Just whenever I return."
Nice. Loose control meant that no one would come seeking her in a hurry, unless something came up. These days, you had to take chances, and that bunch of stupid cops were far enough behind to allow for something he hadn't had any of for a long time. It didn't matter that she was young. A hard prick has no conscience. All it knows is to jam a gap.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked her. She blushed, then giggled.
"I didn't mean to embarrass you," he grinned.
He looked her up and down slowly, while her eyes fell from his. From the high crown of brown hair to her lush, slightly thick lips, just made for kissing, to the beautifully honey-colored, suntanned skin just above her blouse, her small waist, jutting off into swell buttocks, crotch, thighs, and well-rounded legs. Yessir, the fucking was going to be just fine. If she suspected anything, it was much too late to run now.
"C'mere," he told her calmly.
Stupidly, without thinking, she walked just close enough for him to grab and hold her, the long, thin blade close to her pretty throat.
"Now, little girl, I'm not known to kill, but I sincerely believe that if you don't fully cooperate with my every wish, you're going to wind up missing from the land of the living."
Her big, brown eyes, badly frightened, merely looked at him.
Looking about him, the guy chose a clump of bushes close to a stream, full enough to hide them from all sides. After he got through steaming it, the water could cool it down. Forcing her into this, he lowered her to the ground easily, her tight shorts pulling tighter around her thighs. He could clearly make out the imprint of her panties encasing the treasure. Brushing her hair back, he looked deep into her eyes before they closed to him.
"Have you ever been with a man before?" he asked her.
"No," she replied, frightened.
"Do you know what to expect from me?"
"I-I t-think so." More frightened.
Taking his time, he felt between her legs through the shorts, feeling the soft cunt almost clearly. He ran his finger up the side, just being able to touch it, almost.
"Do you know what to expect from me now?"
"Please, don't...." Her voice sounded full of tears. "Are you scared?"
"Yes...."
"Well, don't be. I won't hurt you much, baby," he said softly. "I wish it didn't have to be at all, but some things simply can't be helped. But I must warn you against crying out, or making any sudden noises that would attract attention to us. I won't stand for that. A man doesn't like to be disturbed when he's groovin'. You understand, I'm sure...."
She shook her head yes, eyes seeking out that blade.
His mouth fell to hers, but found it closed and stiff.
"Have you ever been kissed before?"
"Just on the cheeks."
"Well, I'm going to kiss you once more, and I want you to open your mouth, understand?"
"Oooooh," she smiled childishly.
"I want you to slip your tongue into my mouth." , "That sounds nasty," she giggled.
"Just do it."
Hesitantly, her wet tongue gradually slipped fully into his mouth, where he grasped it with his own, entwining them, forcing his lips deep into her own. She struggled to get away now, whimpering from the pain, but for a long moment, he made her let him have his way. She lay breathing heavily, as though strangled for air.
"Now, was that really so bad?" he asked, smiling.
"I thought you were trying to kill me...."
He couldn't help himself. He just doubled over and laughed.
"What's so funny?" she asked him smartly.
"Boy, you really are a cherry," he remarked.
She knew something about that word, and the way he said it made her feel two years of age. She knew that she was young, but she didn't dig being laughed at this way.
Once more, before she could seat herself, he kissed her deeply, feeling her hold her breath, her tongue inside his mouth, and her lips somehow clinging. She was determined. When he let her up for air this time, her eyes were slightly glazed as she lay limp in his arms.
Unbuttoning his trousers, he worked them down around his legs, exposing his hardened prick fully.
"Do you dig this, baby?" he asked her hoarsely, hardly able to wait until he could really mount this fresh, young cherry filly.
"Golly...." She was amazed. Like a frozen snake, it hung in mid-air over her belly. She could see real power there, though it was the first time in her life to see the male body.
When he kissed her once more, she could feel it rubbing her thigh, causing a funny heat to rush through her body and then causing a funny, shivering feeling, as though she was cold.
Feeling him unbuttoning her blouse, she felt a deep shame. Her mother had always taught her never to let a boy see or touch down there. He hadn't seen her down there, but he surely had touched. She felt him relieve her chest of the bra, the growing buds now in plain view. She felt his mouth smash into them hungrily, as though he would devour them from her body. She squirmed under him now, feeling his teeth nip excitingly here and there, his long tongue licking them all around.
Golly, what was happening to her? It was as though she couldn't lie still anymore. She was breathing faster than a racing filly just finished covering a mile. She could clearly feel him working her shorts and panties down, but she was powerless to stop him, the grass cool to her naked buttocks. Then he was kissing her lips once more, spreading her thighs just a little. When she felt his finger enter her just a little, to be stopped by something, she jumped, but he kept kissing her torridly as though he would gobble her up in nothing flat.
When she felt his hot lips on her bare stomach, she couldn't help throwing her arms around his head tightly, doubling her trembling thighs up about them. When she felt his hot lips kissing into her beginning down, she almost screamed as he tickled. And then his hot, seeking lips were on her throbbing, moist parts. She gurgled in pure joy, sensation after sensation soaring through her body. This was all new, and although she knew it to be wrong, she was loving every thrilling moment.
Then he was up once more, his lips finding her hot mouth, as he lifted one of her hot thighs in his arm, widening her spread. She felt the hot, iron-hard prick just enter into her very moist cunt, and she began to arch under him already. Working skillfully, he didn't try forcing it all in at once, but slowly, teasingly, he worked just the head with her, talking slowly, not about what they were doing, but other things. She was searing down there, not really knowing what to do. And he kept talking to her. Unexpectedly, hisbody gave a powerful lunge, and he was all the way in, the pains like nothing else ever before in her short life, but his powerful hand covered her mouth, drowning out the loud scream that instantly meant discovery.
When he had her somewhat calmed down, he talked to her more, the pain now very dull and throbbing. She listened to him, feeling the big, hard prick deep in her tail, his weight not a factor, as he was up on elbows and knees, his toes not touching the ground.
"Bounce your butt off the ground, baby, and meet my strokes. Easy now, or you'll hurt too much. Just do as I say, and we'll set these woods on fire."
He was above her making his strokes, and she tried it. More than enough slipped in because she bounced too high. Her nails dug into his back, but she didn't scream. When he could stand it no longer, he lunged into her powerfully once more, seeking the bottom of this wonderful cunt. Her feet dug into the ground as she tried to inch backward, away from him, but he clung to her skillfully, and she could feel him hard, powerful and deep, working like an air hammer into her soft, inexperienced body.
"Oooooh....Ouch....Eowwww...." she moaned from time to time.
"Oh, baby, fuck with me," he moaned. "It's time. Mmmmmmm, God, I'm coming, and it feels so damn good after all these years. Man, this is some good fucking!"
When he slumped to her, she could clearly feel them both breathing heavily.
When he looked deep into her cunt, she closed her eyes in shame.
"Baby, do you love your body?" he asked her.
"No...."she sobbed.
"Why not?"
"Because my body is hurting me something awful...."
The ragged edges were mute testimony.
"Time will heal all that. Love your body for the good in it. Honey, what you possess will make all men return for more and more."
Later, after he really made her a woman and had scratches in his back to prove it, he was talking about kidnapping her. But she was far ahead of him. Her even better idea had him hiding in her father's barn, and letting her bring him food and love every day.
"I might be, but I don't want to see you leave me now. And if you take me with you, all the police in the world will be hunting us. And we'll get caught, and all my friends will know what I've done. Come home with me," she begged.
He was thoughtful for a long moment.
"I don't know, honey...."
"Are you afraid to trust me?"
"Why do you really want me to go home with you?"
"Why do you want to kidnap me?"
He had to laugh, her young logic was so powerful.
Strangely, he went for it. This arrangement lasted about one week, until he almost got her caught. That night, after making a final, soft love to her, he sneaked away.
Ginger was sick for three days, but a woman can't cry forever.
Harry, one of her father's farmhands, was next. This went on for three years, until she playfully told him one day she was pregnant. He wasn't to be seen the next day.
This time, she didn't get sick. She merely kept her pants up, graduated high school, went on to college, met her husband and now was happily married-or thought she was!
But then, if she was so happily married, why did Polly's story make her think of the one man in her life from long ago? That one man had made her wild in the cunt. And no other man had really been able to tame her since, neither Harry nor her husband. Whenever she went around him in that barn, she always knew how it would wind up, though she might not have but five minutes to spend with him. And she wanted it, actually desired it. One day he had her twice this way, until she could get to him for a long stay, as she was hotter than a four-alarm fire until he cooled her down.
And now this Caldwell fellow. He was much the same from what Polly had described. A free-wheeling, take-what-you-want-type lover, that thrilled all women. And especially her.
Thinking about him made her cunt hot. She showered.
CHAPTER SIX
Sunday morning in Lipton was just like Sunday morning in any other place in these United States. People rose, ate breakfast, laid back down, dressed for church, fought a sickening hangover with another drink, pop, or what have you, sought out the day's first drink, pussy, or whatever they fancied. It went on in Lipton, also.
In some houses, there were the moans and groans of sexual pleasures, the usual family fights, the arguments, the late sleepers, the early risers, the usual drunks. Hell, simply the fucking usual.
Reverend Luther Martin stood on his front porch drinking his early morning cup of coffee, looking over his sinful town spread out before him. He wanted so much good for these wayward people, but many actually scorned him, the devil so thick inside their souls, hardly anything could move them. Oh, they came to the service, but not really to worship. Just to be counted as being there, seeing what Mary Jane was wearing and didn't old deacon Tom sound funny. And ain't Mary Lou expecting? Nothing toward saving their souls.
If he were to write a book today, there would be many divorces in this small town. In fact, if he was a wicked man simply looking for a buck, all he knew could cause a blood-bath in this town between husband and wife.
Sadie Jane should know better than to lie in a car with old Bill, while her husband babysat at home.
But the worst one of all was that Link Caldwell, a man of no real conscience or concern for his fellowman. He dallied around with any weak woman that would service him. And there were many. Oh, make no mistake about it. Not only the average women employed by him, but many of the town's finest women citizens. Jack Lane was running a close second, almost a tie for first. He even corrupted many of the town's finest teen-agers. But he'd never catch up, because Caldwell wasn't married.
The goings-on in this small town were a masterpiece of sin. God didn't smile on these types of goings-on. Some day the very wicked were going to be struck down. It was his job to show many of them the errors of their ways before it was much too late, if they would but allow him. And this job he relished.
Preacher Martin believed wholeheartedly in God. He supposed he sinned in some ways, as no one was perfect, but he strived constantly to be a proper guiding light for this fine, if sinful, community. God forgave only those that asked for it.
Today, he knew what his sermon had to be about. Time was winding up, and these wayward children had to realize this fact above all others. The weakness of the flesh, the frantic chase of the material life, all this must cease, or the perpetrators must pay the full price for the wages of sin.
Faye Martin stood back in the shadows, watching her man meditate with his Lord. This had always been her life, the background. While growing up, her parents made her wait to eat, to speak, to anything, until all the elders were gone. Nothing has really changed now, she felt. Even her husband made her wait for fucking, until he was all spent with his Lord.
Faye was a quiet, unassuming soul, but she did recognize her bodily needs. Sometimes those needs became so great, she had to fight desperately to keep from running naked into the streets and giving of herself to the first male able to get a hard prick up her.
Sure, she recognized her duties and responsibilities, but at the same time, Martin should also recognize his toward her. She was human ... she needed cock . .'.
The Indian summer heat bore down thickly. Many people squirmed around restlessly in their seats. The preacher was a truthful man, in that he believed sincerely in hitting the nail on the head by way of seemingly endless sermons.
Link sat straight as a poker, listening to the preacher lamenting the fantastic turnover of female teachers, and implying that sex was behind it. He didn't give one iota of a damn what was said. The preacher could call his name outright, if that pleased him. Damn right he was a power structure, himself, and these local yokels knew what side their bread was buttered on, and they wouldn't openly oppose him. If he spotted a woman he wanted, and could force himself into her bed, damn right he would screw her all night, or however long he held up. Take Martin's wife. Now that was a desirable piece of fluff, and to his well-experienced eyes, her buns weren't being buttered not nearly enough. Martin should watch out. She was a short woman, powerfully built body that could stand the biggest and best, with a cleavage ample enough, but not fat. The swells of her slightly plump stomach could stand plenty of moist kissing that would leave her breathless, her thighs flopping open in the breeze, her moist parts aching for a plundering. A little on the dark side, she was a cute woman, just made for protection and loving. Probably her sex lay right on top, her spur tongue nestling in her panties making her hot and eager just from moving her thighs. But right now, he couldn't think of any way to force her into his bed. Maybe he was sinful as hell, but he didn't pimp for any man in this town. Nor did he try to buy any woman.
But he was a man who wanted and needed a woman constantly, and he didn't want the same one all the time. It wasn't that he couldn't make a woman on his looks, as he wasn't repulsive, but a man can only go so far on his resources, and then something else must take over. Sure, he could ply his women with money, liquor, sweet talk about the moon, dates, and all that jazz, the romantic works, but that wouldn't allow him access to as many as he could now reach.
You meet a woman, and you want her. You date her, but if she doesn't mean to cut that twat loose, you go home with a hard prick, and stronger determinations to conquer the next time. You call, set another date, and the same thing might happen again. The so-called good women won't screw until they know you better, and this could take awhile. So while you Ye tied up with this one dame, a few others get by, and you might end up with nothing. So why not slip them into the first bed handy, and do all your romancing, dating, talking, the moon, all that jazz rolled into one, hard poker shoved deep into her thirsting parts? Really, in the very end, once a woman takes you into her body, and you can do nothing further for her, it's all over, anyway. His way, she was well pleased, and would come back a second time. Once he got into a babe, very seldom did they balk. So his way was faster, better, and more to the point of what this loving is all about. Even Martin had to satisfy his wife in bed, or someone else would do it for him. So to hell with him ... He played strictly the cream this way, and a mighty damn few escaped his body-hungry clutches. Preacher Martin could raise all the hell he was big enough to raise.
Link sat before his fireplace sipping his drink slowly, desire for a new woman coursing through his body strongly. He could feel his eager parts just throbbing to plunder some strange body. Often he wondered, knowing that all women were constructed the same upon birth, why must he constantly have a strange face under him all the time? Basically, some women are dead in bed, while others are live wires, bucking broncos, and then there are the ones in-between. That little hole, that fleck of joy between a woman's thighs ... are all constructed the same. Some can be plump, thin, well-defined, what have you. Hell, it didn't matter that the same thing would happen all the time, but it just had to be new, knowing that in the end, if he'd married Sheila, and plundered her parts three or four times a day, he would still fly to heaven in the end. But still, he desired that new face under him all the time.
Take a woman, make her slim and tall, or short and slightly plump; she possesses a head, two eyes, one nose, lips to be kissed tenderly or bruisingly, breasts to be tortured any way man liked, a delicious stomach to be dissected, jutting off into that down-covered fleck of joy, whether it be tight or loose, the size of a silver dollar, or even a water bucket; the same results would end out. Once the thrust claims a woman, chain reactions bring the delicious joys of fluids joining in her body.
Take ten different women, line them all up, and he'd be willing to bet there wouldn't be five different bits of undulations in their bodies, but all ten would be mounted by .him, because they were all different women, though basically the same. He'd often wondered why a man would say he got some last night, but it wasn't any good. Hell, he'd never had a bad one. There are cold-tailed women, who do their best, and there are hot-tailed women, who are the best, but no bad ones.
The well-brought-up woman can be more joy in bed than the well-experienced loose woman. It's all in the teachings at a man's hands. If he knows nothing, she will reflect it.
This quiet house could bore into him, if he allowed it. Maybe he might ring that chick one more time....
To hell with a phone call. He was going to pay those teachers a visit. Maybe he could add to Martin's figures, and bring in some new flesh, because in the end, he was going to have them all! If that left scars, let them join the flight. They would merely have to be replaced, and that probably meant new women. He didn't give a damn if they were of the matronly type. If they were desirable, married or not, he would have them, or they wouldn't teach in his town.
What ye sow, so shall ye reap.
Tough as Link Caldwell appeared to be, these were the words, the only words, he really feared. He wasn't married, though he'd planted plenty of wicked seeds with married women he couldn't reap this way. Not just yet, anyhow. And this was what worried him so. Sure, he'd done many cruel things in his life, most of them being to force some woman to bend to his sexual will. Oh, he made old Johnny Poston burst his arm one night, but he hadn't ever killed anyone, though he'd caused many people to be beaten up. But that shouldn't mean a thing. People get beat up every day for some reason or other.
Though he used it wisely, the Firing Squad hadn't been his idea. His father had taught him this. After all, a woman can hurt you in far more ways than a man, and you can't just beat the hell out of her. That tends to make them more reckless than ever. But they can be reached. His father dreamed up this idea long before he was born.
This certain girl had promised him a date, but broke off when it was far too late for another, for a very special event. The fellow had taken her out, a staunch competitor, had then bragged about how he'd gotten to her. But in his bragging, he neglected to mention how she'd been so drunk from moonshine, a whole platoon could have had her, and she wouldn't have known it. His father had hired three of his best men to kidnap the girl and take her far into the woods. This is where the Firing Squad was really born. The three men worked her over brutally, his father finally learning the real truth of that night, but it was too late. They took her back to town, threatening that they would really work her over the next time, if she ever told anyone. She never told a soul, but his father knew.
But Link only used this on special occasions. After all, some women can go to extremes on anything.
But getting back to him, although he wasn't married, there had been plenty of married women in his life. Through a strange quirk of fate, he'd even made the woman his father wanted to date that night long ago, and she'd told him the whole, wicked tale, in between lapping up his loving.
There was Mrs. Lane. Now, man, that was a hot one. When ole Jack had to go out of town for three days that time, she'd moved into his house for three nights, telling him that she'd heard a lot about him, and she was going to find out firsthand. Man, that had been the wildest. Nothing was forbidden between them. Like an old Tomcat, he popped it to her, but she didn't howl out like the female cat. She gutterally begged him to keep gang-banging her, when his body was lifeless. But she knew the way to bring him alive. Jack would kill him if he knew....
He stopped his car before the girls' apartment house, licking his well-inflamed chops. Being a big man in town meant he could visit anyone, anytime, and no one would meddle in his business.
Two little boys stood On the corner watching him.
"That's Mr. Caldwell," one told the other.
"Aw, what about him? Let's play ball." The other wasn't concerned.
"He gets more pussy than drawers, that's what about him."
"Oh...."
Anne was there alone-or so it seemed.
"Good afternoon, teacher. My, you're looking swell," he exclaimed. "Is class in session?"
"Thank you, Mr. Caldwell. Please don't keep up so much noise. Polly is trying to sleep."
"My name is Link, honey, as well as your name is Anne. None of that formal stuff between two steamers."
She simply looked at him, committing herself neither way.
"How do you mean, is school in session?" she asked.
"I'm ready to sign in, and I brought my own pencil."
She shivered.
"Mr. Caldwell, what you did to that poor child, animals don't do. Do you realize that she got so drunk awhile ago on your dirty moonshine, she hasn't awakened yet? What kind of man are you?"
She was plenty fired up, her voice cold.
"Boy," he replied teasingly. "Why the cold atmosphere on such a beautiful, warm, fall afternoon?"
"Dirty men always pick on the weak ones," she spat. , "Whoa, girl. First of all, allow me to remind you I don't traffic in moonshine. I don't need that type money. That should clear me of that charge. How did she get it?"
"I don't know. I only know when I came in from church, she was out cold. You should be ashamed of yourself."
"For what?" he asked innocently.
"For what you forced her to do. You know all about it."
He laughed a soft laugh.
"I only know that she's a woman, I'm a man, and we had sexual intercourse Friday night."
"Is that what you call it?"
"Just what did you mean by that remark about the weak ones, my dear?" he asked, a bit of an edge to his voice.
"You forced that poor child to stay up on that hill with you all night, and what you must have done to her must have been pretty wicked. She's had dates before, but she never reacted this way."
"Honey, you have your information all wrong. She stayed up on that hill all night because she desired to. I daresay her other dates might have been more gentlemanly, but I'm no gentleman. The situation was handled just as it should have been handled. She has her own car, and could have left any time, but didn't. My advice to you is talk what you know only. Which room is she in?"
"You can't go in there," she exclaimed, jumping in front of him.
He caught her to him, holding her tightly.
"Little girl, I can, and will, go in there. Watch out that you don't make me mad. Your little friend simply paid her dues, just as you're going to do, or I'll replace you. The State Board won't question the letter I'll send, and your four years of college will be wasted, as far as Kentucky is concerned. Don't make me work you over twice."
She looked up at him steadily, her eyes flashing a cold message of hate.
"What do you mean, twice?"
"Honey, wise up. I'm going into that room and see her, if I have to slap you around a bit. Then you know I'm going to screw you, or get rid of you. That makes twice."
She said nothing, her breathing shallow and mean.
"Baby, Polly came to my place, and we simply had demanding sex off and on all night. That's all. Now what's wrong with sex?" He softened a bit.
"I hate you," she replied.
He laughed.
"You only think you do."
He felt her soft butt.
"Stop (hat now!" she shouted, struggling with him, but he was so strong.
"Let me go, you big beast! Turn me loose!"
He simply pushed open the door to Polly's room, quieting her struggling. She didn't want the girl awakened.
Polly, wearing nothing but panties and bra, had kicked out from under the sheet, her legs thrown wide, just a glimpse of her blonde down showing through the drawer-leg. Anne tried to get loose from him to cover her.
"Baby, don't be ridiculous. I know all about what those drawers are covering. If you'll remember, I had that all night Friday night."
His utter disregard for people's feelings, his cold callousness, was too much for Anne. She burst into sobs.
"Honey, you shouldn't worry about her now. If I were here alone, she might have troubles, for I probably would fuck her. But I have you. And you're alive and in color."
"Oh, my God," she moaned, sobbing more.
He kissed her bruisingly, feeling her soft lips crush so easily under his, her nose pressed tight into his face, one of his hands going all over her buttocks, the other holding her to him.
Polly stirred slightly, causing Anne to jerk in his arms. He brought her out of the room and she was now resigned to her fate, his hand on her breast, her mouth being used. But when he tried to run his hand under her dress, she began to struggle. Suddenly, he turned her loose.
"Look, baby, I've never fought with a woman yet, and I won't lower myself by beginning now. Time has run out. Miss Anne, I have a big yen for a woman, and I want you. Now you have exactly one minute to make up your mind. Do or die, baby."
For perhaps thirty seconds, she was silent.
"We can't do it here," she sighed, her small voice resigned once more.
"Right here and now," he said firmly.
"But the others might come in," she protested weakly. "And Polly is in the next room."
"Who gives a damn? Don't you have a bed?"
She did.
"Then, honey, let's make those springs cry."
He didn't leave her until two hours later, and none of the others had come in, nor had Polly disturbed them.
"Honey, it's been fun," he remarked, feeling her tongue dig deep into his mouth on her good-night kiss.
"If there wasn't any school tomorrow, I'd keep you up all night," she told him ravishingly.
"Honey, that's a date-any time you wish to keep it."
"And I promise you that I will. I'll keep you fucking for a solid night"
CHAPTER SEVEN
October rolled in with black clouds, lightning and thunder, and a vicious rain that slashed at the small town with torrential force, frightening the weak-hearted, and somehow making the strong-hearted wonder about a few things.
The cold rains slackened in their intensity, but they fell on, bringing a cold wind out of the north. The oldtimers knew that the good days were about over.
Preacher Martin had stirred quite a few people's thinking caps, concerning this town. They knew what he was driving at and why, but not what medicine might be effective for a cure.
People are like lambs. Even when they Ye stirred up, someone must take the lead to make them effective. If no one is willing to lead, to fight for a just cause, then a bunch of sorely disorganized, well-meaning people aren't going to accomplish anything but their own destruction. Lipton seemed to be loaded with leaderless people these days.
They knew that Link Caldwell forced teachers and other women into sexual acts of highly controversial natures, because he possessed that power. Not because he gained it through due process of law, but because his family owned this place.
They knew that Link Caldwell could have a woman attacked in some dense portion of the woods surrounding this town, and later someone would find her body split from brutal sex, and then she would be treated, and that would be the end.
They also realized that Link Caldwell did several things around this town that weren't right, but in the end, none of them really had to suffer for his actions, especially none of the people that really meant something in this town. Hell, women are going to screw somebody. Their kids were being given a swell education all up and down the line. They had but to take complete advantage of it. And furthermore, it's pretty hard to tell a woman she must let one use hef body just for a job, and have her fall over just that easily. They wanted to fall over. And most of them kept coming back to him, the ones he would have over. Was that so much force?
And this Firing Squad deal. How many decent people had Link Caldwell given over to these shadowy men, to be manhandled, anyway? The only ones caught in this net were no good for the town, for themselves, or for anyone. And furthermore, who could really say Link was behind all this? Women as bad as this are raped every day of the week, and some of them get torn because the men are too big and too rough. Are they put up to this?
Rationally, these people could find no real fault with Link, no matter what Preacher Martin really said. After all, they were merely dirt farmers. They were not big planners, big-city thinkers. None of them had the real education to form a reform plan if they really wanted to.
"Ah have nuthin' 'gainst Mr. Caldwell," one of the usual Saturday morning crowd standing in the barbershop said. "When muh boy wuz sick last summer, and old Doc wouldn' let me have thu medicine on credit, jest until muh crop came in, old Link talked him into it. Ya remember when muh boy had dat fever. He damn near died, and only Link saved him. He ain't hurt me none."
"Me neither."
So Preacher Martin could very well find some other tree to crawl under. None of them really were going up against Link. And those women school teachers would have to fight their own battles. If they didn't want to, they really couldn't do anything.
The air was cool on this cloudy Saturday morning. Ida Starks lay in bed comfortably, lazily thinking over what her weekend might be like. She had no real plans for these two days. She should get up and start breakfast, but what's the rush. Bob wasn't home, and she wasn't too hungry. Thinking of him made her remember to almost a week ago. What he'd done had thrilled her so, she nearly went crazy with sex. God, she was so hot, she wondered if she might not kill them both. And at her age. Well, maybe she was like that woman she read about in the book. Snow on top, fire in the furnace. But it took special treatment to bring her alive.
Her hand lay snugly between her legs, the inner warmth feeling very hot to it. She idly wondered what it might be like to have Link Caldwell in bed with her. From what she heard, he could really make a woman sing under him. But he wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole, even if she looked like a movie star. She was too old. He only wanted young meat squirming under him. And from all the talk around town, he was getting plenty of it.
She hadn't gone to church last Sunday, but Mr. Martin must have dropped a bomb among them. Mrs. End could talk of nothing else but that wonderful sermon.
"Honey, he really laid it to old Link. He even went so far as to say Link had screwed more women in the last five years than we've had die in the last three. Honey, if that man is throwing that thing around like that, I don't see how he lives," she exclaimed over coffee the next morning.
"That's easy. He does absolutely nothing but just lay around all the time. If he didn't chase skirts, what would he do?"
Mrs. End chuckled wickedly.
"Honey, you do have a point there. Makes me just wish I was about fifteen years younger. I'd rape him."
"Why, Mrs. End," Ida laughed.
"Honey, this is just between us now." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Why, my old man's pecker ain't been good now for ten years. He petered out long ago. When we do something now, if I don't get mine in a hurry, I can forget it. Can you imagine what it must be like to lie there and luxuriate, knowing that it's ready any time you are."
They shared a nice laugh over that.
"You reckon Link is all they say he is?" Ida asked her seriously.
"I don't know, but I also don't see that he does all that much wrong. I mean, the man tries his best to see that the town has what it needs to survive. We surely aren't taxed to death, and he sees to it that all the federal money we have coming gets in here. I mean, the man is only human. From what I hear, Preacher Martin might do a little better prospecting in his own gold mine."
"You mean the good man is so busy chasing spirits, he can't take care of the most urgent needs of his own house?"
"Now you know how people talk, and this is a small town, but they say she wears some mighty revealing clothes about the house. Honey, when a young pussy is in heat, she's going to find a way to let some man know there's room for readjustments to be made."
"The preacher's wife ... Hmmmmmmm...."
"He'd best be picking fights in his own bird's nest," Mrs. End remarked.
"I can't really see anyone going up against Lank in a fight, anyway. Mr. Starks tried it, and Link damn near threw him out on his head," Ida remarked.
Mrs. End laughed inwardly at her. The poor child either didn't know, or didn't want it known she knew her husband almost got thrown out because he and Link were chasing the same skirts, and to the winner goes all the spoils.
"I noticed that. Mr. Caldwell is too powerful in this town for anyone to really hurt him. And those school teachers must love what he does. His house is like Grand Central Station; arrival and departure...."
Ida refilled her cup.
"I hear that he went over to their apartment house yesterday after church, and stayed there for more than two hours, honey," Mrs. End revealed.
"I wonder what for," Ida laughed.
"I'll bet it wasn't to welcome them to town, unless it was in the official Caldwell manner. But then, only two of them were there."
"Golly, is he that much of a man?"
"I don't know, but I heard that one of them walked him to the door all smiles, her hand on his arm. So he must have done all right there."
Ida lay thinking over all this now. And the more she thought, the more she wondered about a date with Link. She was old, but she bet she could teach him a thing or two.
Behind every great man, as the saying goes, stands a woman. Apparently behind every great man's fall, there also stands a woman. It may as well be clarified that every man craves the green grass on the other side, and from this, stems his fall.
Noah Connors was the man silently chosen by the small town to lead them, if ever a Caldwell wasn't around. Apparently Link would be the last one. His fucking gained no offspring.
Connors was tall, handsome, greying just a bit, but devilishly distinguished. His higher learning came from the University of Kentucky, in Lexington. He graduated with high honors, then was drafted into the army. After World War II, he taught school in Glasgow, coming to Lipton in 1953. Two years later, he met the former Mrs. Lenora Graves, and her baby daughter. They fell in love and married. It seemed to be a highly successful union, as they complimented each other in taste, style, and that certain portal of happiness all married people strive for, but few seldom achieve. Unquestionably, they well understood the give and take. Sure, there had been the loud arguments, which prompted her daughter, Cally, to request her mother to leave her stepfather, as she didn't have to take all this. But Mrs. Connors had learned much from her first marriage, and as life went, she and Noah resided in heaven. Sometimes they just couldn't agree on current subjects.
Noah knew as much about this town as anyone. In fact, there were several people that knew absolutely nothing about the town, even after being born and raised here. So he could become quite a leader. There was nothing about him to even remotely suggest Caldwell. He was a church deacon, a qualified leader in this community, a member of the Masons, a Captain in the U.S. Army Reserves, president of the Kentucky Water-Wanderers, a social group that went camping and swimming during the summer months, planning events to aid the poor at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and several highly rated community projects. No wonder he was held in such high esteem.
In each man there lurks a dark, sinful side.
Some men, weaker than others, or maybe they're stronger as the case may be, fight these wicked compulsions daily, determined to live the best of their lives, and never knowing any real excitement. Then there's the group that repulses so long, the wickedness can no longer be contained.
He was forty-two, and she was sixteen, his short, plump, sexy, big-assed stepdaughter, and he desired her so desperately, that lump in his pants sometimes could hardly be contained.
Being a rational thinking man, Noah knew that his plans could backfire into an all-lost cause for a piece of young, jailbait cunt. But this could be doubled into incest, for in a legal way she could be considered his only daughter, although he possessed none of the joys in bringing her into this world. In fact, his personal playground was the same cunt she plopped out of. And now, more than anything, he was going to sample what that thrilling cunt had birthed into this world.
Cally, the sign of sex, was about five-one, around one hundred and thirty-five or forty pounds. She definitely dug boys, but didn't go out on many dates. She was certainly pretty enough for dates. Her personality was good, and she met a lot of boys, including men. Some of them were going to try, he knew, and if she weakened, some of them would make out. He sometimes wondered about this, but felt a deep, secret pleasure that she didn't. Some fat, fast-talking young man, with a line from here to Florida, might sweet-talk her into liking him, and in a soft moment, jam her with a poker so long and hard', she just might go crazy over sex and be lost to him forever. Make no mistake about it. When a woman's in heat, she demands a stiff poke. The stiffer, the better she craves it.
With today's short dresses and skirts, a plump woman can show quite a bit when she sits, if she isn't careful. Cally knew mat Noah's eyes hawked the upper portions of her thighs whenever she was seated. He also tried to look into her bedroom whenever he could. Well, she might as well admit it. She dug this attention, careful not to overdo it. When she knew she was going to stir up the fires, she was always careful to draw her short skirts down as far as possible, closing her legs tight together, and turning sideways. But if he looked closely, he could still see all the way up to her crotch, the upper portion. This was more decent than if-she'd let her legs flop open, just as she knew he would love her to do when her mother wasn't around. Furthermore, without him telling her, she knew that he would just love to see her flop her thighs high in the air, and let him see all the way up to her panties. Sometimes, she wondered if he would really do something to her.
She remembered the morning she was wearing her shortie housecoat, with only her gown underneath, wearing no panties. As he came down the stairs, she was reclining on her bed, and she knew that he could see her naked buttocks, all the way up to the creases, but she never moved, and he didn't linger.
Let him see what he wanted to play with. What could he do? Oh, she was a hip little sister, and knew how to turn him on, but nothing would ever come of it. She didn't crave old men, and especially the man that slept with her mother. She knew what they did up there, as she could sometimes hear them whispering, the bed creaking, their steady movements, and then they would sleep, knocked out, no doubt. Good God!
Noah always bought his liquor by the case. Just this Saturday morning, he'd driven the few miles to Tennessee, and purchased a case of fifths. If winter came on rough, he had enough to last him for a long while. His wife got drunk on Saturday nights, if they had no place to go, and this was one of those nights.
Now that she'd staggered up the stairs and was now asleep, his sexual feelings concerning Cally took on a concentrated form. He was never more ready to make his play. She was wearing a loose-fitting culotte shift that showed plainly her panty-girdle whenever she sat down, bent over, or anything that caused the shift to ride up her big ass. From sideways, her buns revealed a dream, resembling two mounds of blessed heaven wrapped in clinging silk. And before this night was over, he meant to fully explore inside those panties, or face the end.
"Cally," he called out softly, the scotch giving him all the nerve he needed.
"Huh?" she answered, annoyed that he disturbed her television watching.
"Go into the living room for a moment."
"Go ... are you crazy?" she questioned him, an inquiring frown mounting her features.
"No. Just do as I tell you."
"Boy!" she exclaimed. "Some people...."
But she complied. He possessed a certain feeling about her. If he was wrong, maybe he could successfully lie his way out of it. If he was right....
Shortly, he followed, walking up behind her in the darkness, the draperies closed, clutching her to him tightly before she could do anything. She might scream now, or squeal on him later. All was on the line now, and he was going to pursue it fully. Come hell or high water, a jail cell, complete ruination later, right now he was going to finish this, or die trying.
"Noah, what are you doing?" she whispered, feeling her big ass tight against his pelvis, his arms tight around her ample waist.
"Baby, you may destroy me later, but right now, I want you so badly, I can't help myself."
"Stop! You'd better leave me alone!" she sighed lowly.
She felt his hot breath on her neck as he kissed her there.
"Don't, Noah, please ... You're my mother's man, almost like a father to me. Please don't...." There was a tremor of a sob to her voice.
Good God!
But there was one important item standing out firmly: Her voice never raised, and with the television still playing, even if his wife suddenly awakened, there would be no sudden silence to alarm her, to maybe warn her that something was amiss in this household. She would simply think they were watching the late show, when she wouldn't find him in bed with her.
Ah, but he could get that any time he wanted ... this was fresh cunt.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Noah's hands arose to Cally's big, soft, melon-like breasts, caressing the nipples through the material roughly, her ass still tight against him, a full struggle from her as yet not forthcoming. She was strangely silent, her hands not trying to tear his fingers away from her nipples. His prick was so hard, he felt it would burst forth from his confining pants, and drop right into her butthole, as her big ass was flush against it, the crack in her cheeks magnetically enclosing his prick through all their clothing.
As his fingers now took a stronger hold on her large and firmer breasts, her breathing became more and more shallow, her mouth wide open, her eyes closed, an animal, whimpering sound emitting from her throat.
She never knew when he took her upper clothing away, the culotte top now held waist-high between their pressed-together bodies, his hands all over her now nude breasts. When he forced her back, his head coming over her shoulder to take one in his mouth, she almost screamed aloud, as he thrilled and hurt her, but she suppressed it in time, her hands rubbing nervously up and down his thighs.
She knew that her mother was jealous of them, and didn't trust them alone together. If she brought shameful discovery down on them now, it could be so shocking as to completely destroy her mother. After all, if she really didn't desire his advances, she could have done something about it long ago, but she was ashamed to. So she held fast, feelings in her body so new and strong, his hands and mouth doing things to her naked breast that shamed her deeply, yet the feeling of acceptance was strong, so strong, she desired more of it, even as she knew it was so wrong.
"Oooooooh," she moaned.
"Rub my candy stick, baby. Don't be afraid...." he whispered, her hands still rubbing his thighs.
"Good God," she moaned.
This man was more like a father to her than her real father, and was not so square that she didn't sometimes think of him in terms of an older brother. But yet she was powerless to resist his strong advances, because they made her body feel so wonderful. Her mind made her feel dirty, thinking about the same man that slept nightly with her mother was now about to do some of the same things with her. Things they were trying to hide out of respect.
She was now breathing through her mouth, feeling his hot lips wetly on her neck.
"Oooooooh, baby, you feel and smell so good," he mumbled.
Oh, a thousand baths would never clean her anymore. Then he turned her around gently, her culottes dropping softly to the floor, only her panty-girdle keeping her from being completely nude. She felt his hand between her legs, her breath catching as his lips closed on hers, his tongue shoved so far into her mouth, making her feel giddy.
A girdle fits tightly, and she could feel hers being roughly worked over her plump buttocks, down her plump thighs, until she could feel air cleanly, and his finger entering her body. Maybe if she'd worn a dress and simple panties, he wouldn't have made her completely naked.
Noah was beside himself now. When he felt his long finger enter her wet cunt, he felt her body twist, as her tongue now shot into his mouth, her muffled whimperings so low and intense. She was actually trying to work off on his finger, he was making her so hot. His clothes left his body.
"Noah, oh, Noah...." she sobbed, both nude now.
There was a big chair in the living room. For three long, sexually frustrating years, even when he felt hopeless of ever having her, he'd constantly visualized her on all fours, that fat, soft ass turned up to him, as he stood straight, cramming into her from behind. Now, at long last, he would have this. He placed her just as he desired, the arms of the chair too wide for her to remain comfortable for long, the seat just right. He furiously worked a French tickler on his hard, dripping prick, knowing that he wouldn't need anything else.
From behind, a woman and a cow are built in the same likeness, that sweet cunt sloping downward, but placed just right, like driving a straight turnpike. He worked the head in easily.
"Oooooooh," she moaned, keeping her voice low. "Noah, you're hurting me. Don't make me spoil it all now...."
Not losing control, he simply probed gently, the tickler fully determined to do its job, evidenced by the fact that her body was going crazy from his manipulations.
Though he could keep control, a slippery cunt cannot, especially when the woman is aroused enough to make it more and more slippery with each thrust. And Cally began working her hips in a crazy motion, roundward, drawing him deeper into her, her arms snaking back to grasp him by the thighs strongly, her head resting on the arm. She said nothing, breathing heavily, feeling flesh against flesh.
All at once, he knew. She pushed her ass so hard against his stomach, almost as to knock the wind from him, the prick into the balls, and she still couldn't seem to get enough, going completely wild now. She groaned into the chair, rocking so hard, it scooted about on the floor. He was relieved they had carpeting.
When they were quieted, he relieved himself of her, placing the towel between her thighs. They stared at each other fully in the gloom, death-like quiet, the light from the den their only source.
"You shouldn't have done that," she remarked quietly, staring him steadily in the eyes.
"Will you tell on me?" he asked her, knowing that he felt so ashamed right now, he would deserve any punishment he received. That old saying was very true: There are some women in this world a man just can't fuck.
"You didn't ask me before, why ask me now?" she asked him simply.
He had no reason to answer.
"Tell you what. Well make a pact, Noah. You don't tell the town council about me, and I won't tell mother and my friends about you. I don't feel any better about this than you do. Oh, I suppose I could have made you stop before we reached the joining of no return, but if it had to happen, I'm glad it was you."
He felt no better. She turned her back to him while she wiped, lifting one of her plump legs to the couch, as his eyes dropped to the floor. He wasn't off yet, and she was naked, not bothering to cover herself, or leave the room. He knew that before he dropped his load, he would have to remove this tickler and go inside her plain. He would simply jerk it out upon coming, refusing to take chances of going off inside her, as he might accidentally make her pregnant.
He grabbed her to him once more, covering her protesting lips, his finger inside her wet body. He forced her onto the couch, forcing her thighs apart, going inside her strongly. He became all powerful, feeling her trying to force him off, but he wouldn't be denied. Then she was fighting to help him as she was going wild. He meant only to bring about his release, then quit her, but she made it so good to him, they went off together, and he forgot to jerk it out, just kissing her in time to snuff out her joyful cries.
When he released her this time, she grabbed up her clothing, streaking naked for her bedroom, determined that he wouldn't get anymore this night. God, he was strong....
Noah fixed himself a big scotch and water, feeling a mixture of remorse and joy. Boy, that was some good, tight cunt, but she shouldn't have let him. Short as she was, her womb must have been straight up and wide opened to receive his full charge. And he must have shot a gallon into her, the powerful spurts going off so fast he could hardly breathe, feeling himself still draining minutes later. God, the crazy way she threw that thing back at him. Sort of like you-hit-me-I-hit-you-back. Holy Jail Cell, was his life now shot to hell?
Noah brooded and cheered himself, feeling his prick, feeling life shoot back. Thinking of that girl aroused him once more. He couldn't call her back, but he knew he wouldn't gain any sleep until relief claimed him.
Climbing the stairs "easily, he almost changed his mind and went back down those stairs. A sore-cunted woman can cry louder than one thinks.
His snoring wife let him know she knew nothing. Climbing easily into bed, her back to him, he grabbed the cheeks of her bare ass, pushing his hard prick up against them. When he could stand it no longer, he entered her easily, her tight cunt crammed full of steaming prick. She moved slightly, grunting in her sleep, but never waking. When he was finished, he rolled away from her, dropping into a satisfied, drunk sleep.
He arose around nine the next morning, hearing his wife bungling below, Cally strongly in his mind, and his prick so goddamned hard he thought it would jump off his body, run down those stairs, and attack her in sleep.
He felt both elated and terrible. Elated because he'd finally gotten those chops, the top, choice price. Terrible because he'd drank too much, hadn't had enough sleep. Well, he couldn't go back to sleep.
"Lenora...."he called out.
"Yes, dear?"
"Come up here a moment." Man, he must be dying. His prick was standing so straight and stiff, it was throbbing. She stuck her head around the door. "What is it, Noah?"
"Daddy is cold, and your asshole needs plugging," he said to her.
"What in the world are you talking about?"
"This...." He shook his prick at her.
She laughed, making a face at him.
"I thought you got enough last night," she innocently accused, merely teasing him about getting a piece while she slept off the drunk.
"What are you talking about?" he almost shouted, for a moment looking positively wild and unnerved, as though she'd really caught him doing something terrible. Had she skipped down the stairs earlier this morning, seeing, not saying anything until now? But no. She wasn't the type. He would have had to kill her to stop her.
He merely laughed it off, unable to hide the nervous shaking of his hands.
"Why should the truth upset you, dear?" she asked him, a quizzical frown on her face.
He was making her suspicious of something, when there was really no reason for it. Or was there?
"Aw, nothing, dear...." he laughed. "I wanted to without you knowing anything about it."
"Then you should have wiped me out after you finished. You must have shot a gallon in me."
But she wasn't fully convinced, and he knew it.
"Say, you weren't up to anything while I slept, were you?"
"Scout's Honor, darling." He raised his right hand. "I never left here."
"Mmmm-hmmmmm...." she replied, trying to make light of something that suddenly worried her.
But she knew that if he did have someone on the side, it would soon be known all over this small town.
"Come on, Lenora, lift that housecoat...."
"You didn't seem so wild about it last night, that is, until I went to sleep," she replied accusingly.
One lie starts out small, seemingly to end there. He might as well get the worry out of her mind. He took her in his arms.
"Honey, you kind of shook me up with your remarks about last night. While you were asleep, I couldn't, and then I did some things with you that people don't discuss openly. I thought you were asleep. When you said what you did, you scared me, as I wouldn't want anyone to know about it."
"Just what did you do to me?" she asked him, a funny sound to her voice.
She well remembered a few other times when she was drunk and when he could talk her into it.
The law would call it sodomy, but she called it pain. After awhile, she wouldn't let him, telling him to find someone else to use that way.
The lies he told disgusted and equally enflamed her to the point of readiness.
"God, Noah, you make me feel like a drunken whore, that I could sleep through all that. You must have had a party with my body last night. Are you sure that's all you did?"
"I finished just as I'm going to do now...."
His finger was well up her cunt, making it wet and slippery. He drew her into bed with him, the familiarity of her naked thighs making him think of the newness of Cally's as he mounted her, feeling the familiar, unexciting drive of her.
"Easy, honey, easy...." she moaned and cried, his powerful slamming hurting her.
"Sorry, baby, but this thing is so good, I want all ... "
"Hah!" she snorted, feeling him drive deep in her cunt. Deep, deep, deep....
Lenora was called away to the next door neighbor's house for a moment, just about the time Cally was getting up. They met on the confinement of the stairway.
"Morning, my love," he spoke, remembering.
"Don't turn it on too hot, man. Mum's the word. You blow your cool, and we'll both perish."
"Kiss me," he requested hoarsely.
"Cool it, man," she whispered frantically. "Where's mother?"
"Next door, baby. C'mere."
She finally had to kiss him. He clutched her to him tightly, hungrily, his finger entering her. And she fought him now frantically, trying to break away. When she was finally able to break free, she raced into the bathroom, locking the door, choking for much-needed air. God, he was going to get them both killed. She thought of running away, getting some distance between them. She thought of many things, but knew that she would have to fight it out right here. She had to be strong for the both of them. When she didn't tell, or get away from him in the very beginning, she left herself wide open for all this.
Cally sat shaking and trembling on the toilet seat, so stirred up that she knew if she hadn't just literally broken away from him, it would have been the same all over again. He had only to touch her, and she was ready.
Last night, there had been no real fear of discovery, and she'd held nothing back when she clearly realized the only way to stop him would be to wake her mother.
Good God, it was too good for that!
And now she sat here, her body blazingly alive, wanting and needing him so desperately, having to deny herself because of her mother, that same mother now carrying his seed deep in her belly, if it all hadn't run out. Oh, she'd heard them a short while ago, the bed creaking, her mother moaning and crying something painfully, as he seemed to be using her body as a battering ram, much as he did her last night.
And last night, when he should have forced his way into her bed for a third, thrilling, exciting time, he instead crawled stealthily into bed with her mother, and he'd shoved all that good driller up her dead ass. Oh, she knew, because she listened halfway up the stairs. Oh, she wasn't listening for this. She was sure her mother would awaken when he got into bed, but she hadn't.
She was deeply insulted that he could just leave her, well, not really, as it was over an hour later, but she thought he had enough. He could leave the young, vibrantly alive confines of her cunt, and slam into her mother's.
The resentment began for her mother in a small way. They had only the weekends to fully enjoy each other, as he was much too busy during the week. Why couldn't her mother have some pressing engagement that took her away from them for a few free hours? God, what a party ... Oh, she still loved her mother, and clearly realized he couldn't stop servicing her without it causing a fight, but why couldn't she be democratic enough for them both to share him? The world wouldn't have to know. Just think, they both had periods in different times of the month. He wouldn't have to miss any loving this way. One of them would always be ready to receive him. But her mother wouldn't ever go for such a thing. Hell, if she even came close to suggesting such a thing, someone would have to kill her mother to get her off, but no one could kill her for thinking. Gee, parents should realize that kids have feelings, also. If it was a boy out in the streets, it wouldn't be so difficult, but this was so much different. The three of them were cooped up here together. This could mean trouble, if she wasn't mature enough to handle them both....
The following Monday, after the Friday night date with Link, Miss Brooks switched down the
"Miss Brooks," Mr. Starks called out, motioning her into his office.
She walked in, wondering what was going on, this meeting not unlike the first one with Link. Ah, but she had no fears here.
"Yes, Mr. Starks?"
"When we're alone, my name is Bob. I want us to become close friends, Polly." He possessed the smile of a copperhead.
"We're close enough, Mr. Starks," she replied evenly.
What was this stuff, anyhow? Did she have to screw every hard-pricked man in this town just to teach? God, she might as well pack a mattress around on her back, just lay down anywhere, and say come on.
"I don't like to keep correcting people, Polly. I usually say something once, and that's the end of it. Now, when we're alone, and I do mean for us to be alone sometimes, Polly. You're a very desirable woman, and I mean for us to be close as two peas in a pod."
"Mr. Starks," and she was mad now; so mad, she could have snapped him in two. "Mr. Starks, you don't have to correct me anymore. We're as close as we're going to get. What you suggested is completely out of the question. And furthermore, you're a married man...."
She watched him fight to control his anger. He won the battle, easing her none. She was mad.
"Miss Brooks, you're turning me down cold, and I won't forget this. Before too much time goes by, you'll regret this decision more than anything in your life. More than anything you've ever done before, I fully guarantee you."
"Mr. Starks, save your childish and unreasonable threats for someone that might be frightened by them. I'm not going to date you, and if you pester me anymore, I'll find the proper authorities to tell about you."
"Try Mr. Caldwell," he bluffed, hoping against hope that she wouldn't. She mustn't write to anyone.
"No. That would make it too personal. If I have to write to Louisville, I'll stop you."
She then walked from his office, unmolested further.
CHAPTER NINE
How does a woman actually feel when she's about to get a big, hard prick jammed up her cunt, and she doesn't particularly want it?
I really wonder, Lane thought, standing just outside Mrs. Shulman's front yard.
He took a last puff from his butt, thinking of Mr. Simpson and Mrs. Shulman together. Mr. Simpson had been fifty-five, and she, forty-eight.
So Lane felt he might as well find out what was so good about it that caused Mr. Simpson to die of a heart attack while mounted. Not that he was hard up, or she that good-looking, but as the saying goes, those ugly women can sure show you where it's at.
The November air was cold, and he was glad she lived away from the street light. He walked upon her porch, glad that he'd made Debbie take over a bundle of his workload. Lots of nights he could now get away for a few free moments. The first time he'd sneaked in on his wife, damn near scaring her to death, then mounted and whacked that thing until she begged him to stop. He was back in his store by eight. He only bothered Debbie one night a week, if that much. She was earning her money, and though some of the older employees had been upset about it, he was boss, and his decisions went, and they'd damn well better abide by it, or get lost.
Mrs. Shulman opened the door with a fearful look, but smiled a familiar greeting upon recognition.
"Why, Mr. Lane, what brings you by on such a cold night? Brrrrr...."
He wondered how she'd really greet him if she found out why he was here.
"Mrs. Shulman, I'm doing a little early business calling. As you know, we're having a Town Council meeting shortly, and I'd like to know your opinions, and ask you a few pertinent questions about some proposals I'll bring up, definitely in the interest of Lipton. I just want a general feeling on your part about them. Nothing really strenuous about it."
Just yet....
"Fine. Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?"
He would, black.
When they were relaxed, he continued.
"As you well know, this is dry county, and many people say fine. I used to feel the same way myself, but the cost of living has risen, swelling money into an even bigger factor. Now, we all know that people, many people in this town, drink, including some of the loudest voices for keeping it dry. And I don't only mean the bootleggers down here and up on the hill, as well as between here and the Tennessee line. It's a well-known fact around here that many bootleggers make a fine living off this sort of thing. Now, I'm not against people making a living, but I am against a select few getting fat and not returning any of this money into the town. From my proposal, the vast majority would gain, not personal property, mind you, but gains for the general welfare of the wh ole town....
"Getting to the point, election time is less than a year away. If we could get this county voted wet, things would be a lot simpler, but I don't really believe this is feasible from many standpoints. So this brings up my proposal. Ask the State to build us a liquor store, stock it on the first round, and once we pay the State back, use the profits to build up Lipton. As you well know, we have plenty of room to grow. Many of our young want to live and work here. Marry and raise a family. I firmly believe that if we could get this project off the ground, although I may not live to see it through, we could eventually draw some fine industry into this town, with a few well-paying jobs for our young. After all, once the Inter-State is finished, the bigger places, like Nashville, Louisville, even Indianapolis, would be easily accessible.
"By this proposed liquor store being for all the people, no one individual could get fat, because our stock would be a moving item, constantly in demand. Proper books would be kept, to insure honesty at all levels, with a State and Federal Examiner to come in twice a year to further insure this. Take your son, for instance. If we had something around here befitting his education, don't you honestly feel he could help us raise higher in the State?" She smiled proudly.
"Why, of course, Mr. Lane. What sort of question is that anyway? You know how I feel about my son, and you equally know how I feel about having him close by. As for the liquor store, I'd have to really think about this. It could lead to all sorts of criminal corruptions in this quiet town. I personally feel we have enough already, without adding on any more, although progress is the thing. Put the wrong man in charge, and you'll have complete chaos. I'd really have to think about that...."
Well, he didn't care to get too serious, anyway. He was here for fun and games, and it all lay between her thighs. If he got her too worked up, in the wrong direction, he might never get her warmed to him.
Anyway, this proposal might never leave the Town Council.
"Aw, Mrs. Shulman, it's not really important right now. Unless a special election is called, and I seriously doubt the feasibility of that, it won't become really serious until about the last of next August."
She agreed somewhat wholeheartedly with that.
"Speaking of your son, Dale, Mrs. Shulman, I have a personal proposal I feel you might be interested in...."
She smiled proudly once again.
"I'm interested in anything concerning my son." There was so much motherly pride displayed in those words, it was such a shame to do what he came for.
"This concerns Mr. Simpson."
Suddenly, the proud smile was wiped away, her face very stricken and ashen, her eyes suddenly filling with harsh, bitter memories, tears, the long days of keeping this horrible secret locked deep inside herself. Her weary eyes looked deep into his steady ones, then fell away, as she sat trembling and shaking.
"Mr. Lane," she whispered his name, sobbing weakly.
"We both know that Mr. Simpson died of a heart attack."
"Mr. Lane...."
"In fact, the whole town knows that he died of a heart attack."
"Mr. Lane...."
"But only you and I know why he died at that particular time."
"Mr. Lane...."
"I want to know the source of excitement that caused him to get so excited that he experienced this fatal heart attack."
"Oh, Mr. Lane...." She sobbed wildly, her voice breaking completely.
He walked over to her, the front of his pants about to burst.
"Stand up, Mrs. Shulman," he ordered gently.
She wrapped her arms tightly around his legs.
"Mr. Lane," she sobbed. "I-I-" She couldn't go on.
He lifted her gently, her head laying easily on his chest. Time was passing, and he knew he couldn't stay all night. He worked her dress up around her waist, feeling the heat of her warm them both.
"Mr. Lane...."
"Don't hold anything back from me, baby. I want to really get excited," he groaned.
"No...." she sobbed weakly. "That devil hole between my legs has killed one man...."
Lane worked her panties down far enough to fall on their own. Then he seated himself on the couch, backing her to him, opening her cheek with his trembling hands, placing his throbbing prick between her soft, old thighs, and immediately she began bouncing about, much as a motor springs to. life once it has been switched on, her thighs forging the insertion thrillingly. Lane gasped in wonder.
"I'm glad it's over...." she cried. She was to repeat this the whole time he went at her hungrily, as she rocked about now, so thoroughly gone, her denial of nature not a normal thing. Lane felt if he sat still, she could thrill them both, she was so wild for it. But no, he was getting his licks in.
They were quiet now, she laying softly in his arms, feeling, welcoming, his hot, raining kisses on her face, the quiet afterglow so peaceful.
"If you knew all along, Mr. Lane, why didn't you just confront me long ago? I've suffered so that someone might find out, and you knew all along. You are so cruel," she told him softly, accusingly.
"No one knew but me, and that's the way it will always be, Mary, if you so desire. This will remain forever our secret."
"You know I do, Mr. Lane. This would kill Dale ... this thing that has happened between us....I understand why you blackmailed me into it, but Mrs. Lane is a close friend of mine. I wouldn't want her to ever know."
"Nor would I," he replied, his finger entering her wet cunt.
"But I'm glad it's out in the open now. don't, please ... Thank God. Maybe I can now get some sleep at night ... Oooooh, I wish you wouldn't...."
While they were on the couch, arm in arm, loving it up, at least he was, she explained fully what had happened.
Simpson had been after her for a long time, perhaps as much as a year and a half. After all else, he finally threatened to fail her son in a vital subject, which would stop his graduation, but would abort his academic scholarship, and she couldn't take any more. She didn't report it because it would have been her word against his, and equally important, everyone knew of her son's brilliance. So how could Simpson fail him, they would ask, thereby casting doubts on her credibility? They would think her nutty. So she said nothing, finally giving in. He was so excited, as his breathing wasn't right before. Only a short time had elapsed, about a minute and a half, he grunted, then stilled on her. She became so frightened, she didn't really know what to do. She worked out from under the heavy, dead man, looking about her wildly, but no one was around. She hurriedly washed her cunt juices off his prick, leaving him nude in his home, sneaking away.
Lane had spotted her, put two and two together, upon learning of Simpson's death, then he knew he had this cunt wrapped up.
"Mr. Lane, how could you possibly be so cruel?" she asked him, amazed at the mercy of her to him.
"Was I cruel moments ago?" he asked her. "No," she admitted, turning her head away. "Were you really putting it on old Simpson?" he asked her.
She turned red.
"I'll bet he thought he was in a storm," he laughed.
"Don't joke about death," she angrily snapped.
"Mrs. Shulman, this won't be our last date, rest assured. You have something beautiful I dig. Well make a different date the next time. Right now, I'm going to enjoy this thing one more time, then I'd better get back to the store. Sleep well tonight, my dear, and keep that lovely cunt warm...."
"I hope no one sees you leaving here," she moaned to him later, kissing him goodnight, thinking of his cock.
No one saw him.
This was a most special evening in Lipton, but known only to two people. To others, it was merely another cold, November night, not really fit for man or beast outside, as it had now dropped to ten degrees above, headed for five below. But this mattered little to the occupant driving the 1962 Ford carefully up the big hill, a determined gleam in her eyes. She had both heaters working, and she wasn't cold.
As she rounded the last turn, she laughed softly to herself, not a second thought behind her any place. This was no invitation from The Master, but a flame-fed desire on her part, and she meant a serious confrontation of the man that could jerk a woman's panties off without a second thought, jabbing them off and on all night, until they begged to be released. Polly had now had two more dates with him, each time coming home resembling chopped-up hamburger meat. That man was a menace in bed, and someone had to do something about him.
The tall, sexy, buxomed lady parked the car with care, not glancing about her nervously, but bouncing from the car with a creamy display of sexy thighs only the falling of night witnessed. She walked determinedly to his door, knocking once, seeing it fly back, the great man standing there, a slight smile on his face, as she pushed her way in.
"Hello, Big Man," she spoke breathlessly to him. "They tell me you're a big-time studder from way back, that can make a girl wish she was back in her mother's womb. Man, I hear you can jazz a girl up so good, she begs for release. I'm willing to bet you ain't shit, man, in or out of bed, and I'm here to prove my bet," she offered, unbuttoning the top of her blouse.
Link laughed.
"Baby, a born loser might run from such a challenge, but I say drop your drawers, and let's get this bet on the road. I carry a full orchestra, baby," he said, taking off his shirt.
She smirked.
"They say you're like pulling a train on a girl. Hah! I'll bet! When I leave, I'll tell Anne and Marlene they don't have to report unless they want to be teased. I'm a wild-cunted woman, and I haven t met but one man that can handle me."
"The fact that you're here means it isn't your husband. I'm not Avis, baby, so don't rate me as second best, as trying harder. All my sidemen are inside me. First is first, and I've never known anything else. You should know I'm a winner, by your being here without being forced or asked to come. Had I met you first, you wouldn't seek other men, nor would you now brag."
"I came here more out of curiosity than any worthless orders. Baby, your orders aren't worth a damn with me, or any stupid letters you may write. If I hadn't wanted to come, and I mean that literally, I would have sent word for you to shove your job up your ass, and be back in Louisville, sweating under my beloved husband, a laboring guy who can't quite cut it. But I simply adore a challenge, because I have new arrangements I want to try out. Though my cunt is soft, hot and wet, I'm standing here to say your hard prick can't cool it down, or make me want to stay, or make me beg you to stop, as did poor Polly. She's a normal child, but now you have a full woman to contend with."
"I'll be a number one hit before morning, if the evidence is presented like I think it ought to be presented," he told her confidently.
"Then tune up, man. The night is now ready to explode."
They now stood before each other naked, having fully removed their clothing while talking.
"Okay, baby, it's main event time, and I hope you won't beg. It makes me cruel," he intoned sardonically.
And they met in the middle of the floor, pulling and tugging. She could feel herself being made ready by his eager lips.
"Oh, God, Link...." she moaned, her lips like hot fire caressing his chest.
She lay on the floor as he stood over her.
"Since Polly gave you a round-by-round account, you know what to expect from me. Baby, don't you dare utter one plead or I'll break you up so bad, you'll run from sex."
She said nothing, sighing contentedly, as her arms reached to help him fall on her. But he didn't enter her widening thighs as she expected, but slid softly down her body until he came to her foot, where he sat back on his haunches, raising her right foot gently.
"Well, I'll admit, you're original," she smirked.
When he reached the soft inner thighs, her smirk was changed to moaning, her body arching and heaving, as he teased and toyed with her, his well-experienced tongue and teeth doing things that nearly drove her wild, as she now forgot not to beg, pleading with him to send her to heaven, as his attentions grew rougher, his teeth doing things that were sweet pains, thrilling her beyond anything she'd ever known.
And when he reached deep inside her, she was off like a primed rocket, unable to hold back.
"Oh, God, you dirty ... Ooooooh, you made me before I was ready ... Oh, sock it to me...."
The night turned into liquor and sex for them.
CHAPTER TEN
Link stood over the delightful girl as she slept easily, knowing more about her in this one night of fucking than he could have learned about in a lifetime of talking. She wasn't a special case, as evidenced by her sleeping now, but she did possess a tough, sexual drive, that a guy just fucking for release wouldn't ever be able to hold. Just as she stated when she walked in, she came for business. Well, he was able to stand up, though he had no possible idea she was coming.
Actually, she now seemed a bust, although she really wasn't. She was everything she represented herself to be, and more, but he wasn't new at this game.
He walked into his kitchen, seeking some greasy food, the liquor powerful inside his stomach, as though a thousand teeth ate at his vitals, making him nauseous. Gin always did him this way. He hated that he wasn't one of those super-duper guys that could hold out. Gin was his equalizer. Actually, between gin and Ginger, he had nothing inside himself to combat it.
Laying the hot hamburgers on the cheese, he momentarily fried the bread tops in the hot grease, eating the two sandwiches in record time. He then drank a seltzer, as this would keep him from getting sick.
When he returned to the bedroom, Ginger was stretching deliciously, her long limbs opened invitingly. He smiled, her gleaming body so ready for love. He walked to his window and she presently joined him.
Link and Ginger stood before his specially cut, spacious picture window, larger and wider than normal, brought high on this hill, and carefully installed at an astronomical cost, but a selfish delight to him, for he was the only one for miles around to own one of this spaciousness.
They stood there in their nakedness, not lewd, but two fun-loving night people, fully enjoying the local view with only goose pimples for clothing, unable to be seen through the mass of bushy trees.
The time was fast slipping away, just as it always does when two people are thoroughly enjoying themselves. He repeatedly tried to talk her into staying until Sunday night, but she declined, saying that her husband might call.
"I'd have to be there," she remarked.
"Why?" he asked her.
He made her feel somewhat whorish with that question, but he wasn't known as a sensitive man.
"Don't be smart, Link," she answered, admonishing him. "You know damn well why."
"But what if he called after you left tonight? Wouldn't this be just as bad?"
"Don't even think such a thing," she frighteningly remarked. "If he did, he'd kill me." link had smiled men. "Maybe you need my protection."
"From what? A crazed jealous husband? Hah! That would be a riot. Husband and lover battle it out for teacher's affections. Boy, I'd never live that down."
"As my woman, you wouldn't have to."
But that had ended in another hot session of sex. Now they stood before this window.
"You're everything I've heard of," she remarked quietly, an inner glow of satisfaction, fulfillment in her soft voice. "It's funny, I haven't known many men intimately, and you're the only man besides my husband I've ever spent the entire night with. I didn't get up and leave him like a few others, because I made a damn fool of myself by marring him. I've stayed with you because I wanted to."
"Of course, it helped that I twisted your arm," he teased.
"You don't have to fish for compliments, Link. Whatever it is about nature that makes a woman know when she's really satisfied, youVe performed it brilliantly."
He felt just a little foolish for his remarks.
"You expect too much of men," he said, seeking to simply analyze her plight.
"In general, maybe, but in sex, a girl has every right to expect, and fully needs the best in satisfaction, or else she's dead. A man can gain sexual satisfaction so easily. A woman has to work for hers, and when she loves it, the man gains still more. Possibly more than hell ever really know, or appreciate. A man can be many things in a woman's life, but he's nothing if he can't bring satisfaction to her body. And women, whether they'll admit it or not, actually need this satisfaction more than any man ever did. Even those that substitute work for a man need a hard prick more man the average housewife ever thought she did."
"All right, baby. You banged your way in here crying to be fucked, and you got it."
"Link!" she cried, embarrassed.
"Baby, I call a spade a spade. You're tall, shapely, well-built, with luscious buns I love to cream. In fact, if I ever fall in love, I hope it will be with someone like you. In fact, I wish you were mine."
"Oh, Link, don't start that again."
But in spite of her protest, she realized she was seeing a side to him few, if any, had ever seen before. So the man wasn't really just another sex machine, with no further compassion for the human race, but was a warm-hearted, vibrantly alive man with life.
Having been rich all his life, so the story goes, two older brothers and a father had taught him that he could have anything he wanted. His mother had been too busy trying to keep his father out from under other women's skirts, leaving little time for his refinement.
The town was like her personal vehicle, the people his pistons, rings, motors, sparkplugs, the works. All of them formed together, to take him wherever he wished, and he could drive slow or fast, depending on his mood. And so, like a master cracking his whip over his slaves, he drove them; the women's bodies, those he desired to be with him, as long as he desired; the men to do his biddings in other ways.
But beneath this veneer of friendly coldness, link was just another warm-hearted human being, allowed to box these people around because they let him.
"If I were really yours, what more could you do with me?" she asked teasingly, feeling his hand on her butt.
"Baby, I'd make a sex queen of you. My Sex Queen. Night and day, any time I wanted you, you'd be there by my side...."
"That sounds dangerous, Link," she teased further, caressing his soft prick.
He grasped her full meaning right away.
"Baby, don't worry. I wouldn't embarrass you. And furthermore, I wouldn't want every Tom, Dick, or Harry looking up my wife's cunt while I creamed it," he smiled, pinching her.
"Ouch! "She jumped.
She felt his finger seeking to enter her butt hole.
"Don't, Link," she snapped. "That hurts."
She felt his strong hand grip her buttocks powerfully, squeezing almost painfully.
"Then, baby, you're in real trouble. I want some of that, and I won't take no for an answer." His voice had now toughened with cold business.
She stared at him wildly for a moment, seeing that he meant every word, after all the silent applause she just socked to him.
"You'll burst me back there. I have trouble taking you naturally," she said quietly, hurt in her voice.
"Baby, we're grown up, and I see no reason to beat around the bush. Like I said, I want to feel my balls shooting love juice up that bum hole. Now, if you can't see me doing it, how would you like two men riding both holes at the same time?"
"My god," she exclaimed, shocked. "You really are a cruel man. Didn't you mean anything at all before?"
"Baby, I meant it all. Let me enlighten you to a few facts about us. First of all, you have long-limbed, bouncy buttocks that were just made for riding. Some people call it unnatural sex, even the law will arrest you for it, but I say what a man and woman do behind closed doors for sexual enjoyment is their own business. With your bum hole placed just right, I could go off in that thing a million times a night. It would be a part of my love for you. Either it's me, or I'll arrange a punishment to fit the crime of refusal."
"My God...." was all she could say.
"Frightening, huh? Well, just listen, baby. One man leans back into something solid, and you're backed and fitted to him, your bum hole greased. All goes in, unmindful of your screams of pain. That little hole is greased to perfection, and honey, let me tell you, a tree wouldn't have any trouble gliding in. The second man will come from the front, fit himself inside you roughly, or maybe tenderly, depending on how he wants to sock it to you, honey, and they'll go to town on your meat. At a prearranged signal, the front man will force you back, both your pretty legs now lifted free, the fire down below really scorching. Honey, you won't be fit for too much loving after that, because the mopup men will take over, and they'll be fresh, while you...."
"Oh, my God, you're crazy," she cried,-backing away from him, a deep fear formed in her eyes, her trembling cheeks flushed, her whole body quivering. "Didn't anything we did tonight mean anything to you?"
"You want it my way, or...?"
"Link, please tell me that you're only joking. That it's only your way of teasing me...."
He shook his head ominously.
She began to cry, feeling herself being taken into his arms, allowing herself to be led to a wall, where he forced her against it, his prick now ready for a tiger, pulling her bouncy cheeks apart, finding his now throbbing prick jumping in his hand, as he eased into her.
"Look at it this way, baby. Woman is placed here to please man, in any fashion, if she's going to be his. This satisfying deal works both ways."
"Ooooooh, stop, stop, stop!" she cried, her hands frantically digging at the wall, her feet and legs arching as though trying to climb the wall. "Stop! I can't take anymore."
He looked down at them, both his hands now holding her cheeks apart, enjoying the thrilling sight," the head appearing and disappearing, her wails getting louder, as he now began to feel the beginning thrills of release.
"Oh, God...." she cried. "Please, Link...."
But he worked into her, not losing control of himself. It wouldn't hurt her to be painful, but he didn't want to burst her.
"Oooooooooh...." Her thin scream split the night when he shot his hot juices into her.
And she slumped, forcing him to bend over, the steaming buttocks bunched hotly into his stomach.
"Oh, baby," he moaned, over and over, pains shooting through him from the powerful tightness of her.
When he released her, she slumped weakly to the floor. He grasped her just under the chin, forcing her face up to his prick.
"Finish it," he moaned hoarsely. "Suck it."
"But, Link," she sputtered weakly. "You just came...."
"Then wash it off," he barked hoarsely.
She softly washed and dried, feeling herself being forced back to her knees, his hands holding her ears tightly. Her soft lips on his soft and sore prick nearly drove him nuts, the animal sounds spewing forth from his mouth driving her onward, her dignity shot to hell, as she gobbled him uncomfortably into her mouth, her loving tongue forcing his body to jerk with thrills she was socking to him, his lasciviousness slamming deep into her soul, driving her wild, as he forced her head away.
"Run and jump into the bed just like I want you."
She couldn't seem to run fast enough, as she sprawled out on her back, her legs swung up and wide, her hot cunt lips held wide to receive him by her eager fingers, as he swiftly joined her, the surging tide joining them both never more fully, as she knew she wasn't married anymore to Glenn Peters, his great big, healthy, country girl now lost to him forever. This man's powerful needs and her needs, blending beautifully in a heavenly mixture, would never let another man touch her.
"Do it, do it, do it," she moaned, her wet lips clinging very feverishly to his, their arms and legs tightly entwined, their togetherness forming solid.
"Sock it to me, mamma," he moaned. "Make me know I'm digging you."
Their bodies galvanized in fullest climax, as both screamed out their purest enjoyments, so caught up in this moment they couldn't stop, as she begged and urged him onward.
As Link and Ginger battered each other on this Sunday night (she stayed over the weekend), another neighbor joined them, but neither had knowledge of the other.
There was no need to have lied at all!
Noah realized this much later, when he was trapped on this Sunday night. He hadn't had a chance to be alone with Cally any more, occasionally sneaking a quick feel or kiss around the house. Their conversations were the same as always, after that bad Sunday, three weeks ago. Come Monday, they had their little differences. He dealt in facts, she in emotions, he explained. Facts are cold, emotions are warm. There's no in-between.
"What did you do to me that night, honey?" Lenora asked him softly, tight to him as they lay sideways in the bed.
"Huh?" he asked, thinking of Cally sleeping below, with a hot cunt confined between her thighs just going to waste.
"I want to know what you did to me while I slept that night," she repeated softly, her warm breath striking his face, her hand snuggled warmly in his shorts.
He could feel himself growing by leaps and bounds, his prick beginning to throb in her caressing hand, as she toyed and rubbed his prick and balls.
"Aw, nothing much. I just did a few things...."
"Do them now," she requested sexually, her voice soft and quivering, her tongue lapping softly inside his ear, like a sweet dream too soon gone away.
"Aw, baby...."
"I want to, darling." She snuffed his protest by lightly squeezing his balls. "It had to be something unusual, for my asking you the next morning frightened you so. You resembled a child caught in the cookie jar. But you're too big for that, so I'd have to say caught in a pussy. Please do it to me now," she begged.
God, what a trap, he felt, as she rubbed hotly against him, her lavish charms hot and ready. If he failed her now, she would worry him until he lashed out in a needless fit of anger, causing a needless breach brought on by his needless fucking of Cally. He should have left that young cunt alone. God, but that fat thing was good, and he didn't really regret a damn minute of his prick being hidden in those hot, juicy confines. It wasn't her fault he'd talked his way into a trap.
He was a guy that hadn't ever done anything like this with any woman before. His sexual desires were normal, and above reproach, fully believing that he was man enough to satisfy any woman. Shove that hot, hard prick up that soft, hot cunt, and man, the mixture had to be heavenly.
"Please, honey," she groaned faintly, her cunt going wild on his finger, much like Gaily's. She was in a white-heat fever, as she rubbed frantically against him, seeking she knew not what, but something so different and exciting he wouldn't tell all.
"Please, darling, honey, Noah...."
He knew the smell of a woman's body, even before sexual stirrings, is, at least, offensive, but the taste must be terrible. And now, with her being so stirred up, his finger could just about finish the job. He was stuck.
"Come on, honey ... Do, do, do...."
She was now pushing on his head and shoulders, instinct driving her now, his lips glued to her breast, her cunt jerking and drawing like a house afire, her needs so powerful, she might not have been able to fight off a stranger from her affections.
"Ooooooh," she moaned. "I feel so good."
Noah felt his hot lips taste the sweating, heaving stomach, her nakedness now so lewd to him, the rippling flesh now tasting salty, her navel, her heaving thighs almost knocking him out of the bed. Oh, God, the wet down snuggling his chin, her hands now pushing frantically in his head.
"Oh, God, baby ... Don't make me wait ... Oooooh...."
His tongue shot out involuntarily, the slippery cunt lips throbbing and whirling like a whirlwind, like a slumbering bear awakened from its winter's nap. Both his hands gripped her powerfully lunging thighs tightly, as they arched higher, lifting him along.
"Oh, God, honey, don't-stop! Ooooooh, it's so good. I can't take it ... Ooooh ... Darling, please don't-stop! Oooooh ... Ooooooh...." Over and over.
Noah was so enthused in his fervor, he couldn't hear her lusty screamings, as she was coming like a house afire, her body humping and jerking like a bucking bronco.
Cally, having been awakened by all the noises, listened to her mother's sexual screamings halfway up the stairs, her ears disbelievingly telling her all.
"God, what's he doing to her? She never hollers this way," she thought. His prick wasn't this good to her, but she wouldn't dare venture any further.
Lenora was still moaning and crying, her heaving thighs held tightly in his arms, her hands talon-like clutching the bed.
"Oh, God, God, God...."
Never in all her days had anything so wonderfully powerful happened to her before. There could be no greater thrill. This simply had to be infinity.
Noah sickened to his stomach, crawled weakly away from the heavenly thriller, his tongue weary and thick. What had his lies wrought?
A new phase had been inserted into their sexual life, stimulating to say the least.
Lenora lay heaving weakly, sleep dredging her eyes. She knew his sexual demands hadn't been met, but she was too blasted out to do anything for him.
"Ooooooh, baby," she sighed weakly, then was asleep.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
He lay there in a sexual stupor, his angry needs magnified by the powerful demands of her body now sated, stilled in sleep, the two drinks and his ministrations knocking her out. His unreasoning mind urged him to force his attentions on her, until every drop in his balls was drained away. But he wasn't an animal, very able to understand her going off right away. Many was the time she knocked him out this way, but not orally. Furthermore, without movements, he might as well masturbate.
Noah lay thinking of hot-pussied Cally below, surely awakened by all the noise Lenora had made. Would he dare go to her now? Would she reciprocate? If she would, would Lenora awaken during his absence, get up to investigate, and discover what surely must be kept hidden? She was known as a heavy sleeper, once she went, but the unexpected should always be expected. And the best way, in this case, seemed to be to attack her, or masturbate himself into sexual satisfaction.
He climbed from the bed, his wife not moving, her stomach heaving in the true sense of deep. satisfied sleep. He went down the stairs carefully into her room, never once turning on a light, or making any undue noises.
"Noooo...." she whispered frantically, her hand! flying to her mouth as though she might scream, her head shaking a no-no, but he wasn't to be denied.
He clasped her to him, the sweet smell of her hair, her fast, frightened breathing, her arms snaking up to cling tightly, desperately, her breasts digging and moving into his chest, the womanly heat of her, the moist lips clinging wetly to his. Hell, he couldn't back off now, no matter what.
He kissed her hungrily, feeling her tongue shoot wetly and hotly into his mouth, her arms clasped so tightly around him now, he knew she must have heard all, and was never more ready for love. As proof, she hadn't the panties she usually wore when sleeping, and she was awfully wet down there, the cunt lips making a smacking sound.
"What have you been doing with yourself?" he asked her hoarsely, his tongue jabbing into her ear
"About to go nuts down here by myself. Oh, God, you just don't realize, Noah. We're so wrong but this is so right, right now. God forgive me, but ooooh, kiss me, kiss me," she groaned.
Their lips clung greedily, partaking of stolen pleasures, her body moving into his naked lap, his prick jammed between their bodies painfully, as he! lowered her flaming body into bed, her thighs, of their own volition, opening wide to receive him.
Neither of them cared if they were caught, the wild abandon claiming them so deliriously, but they were not, as a tired Lenora slept on, snoring gently, her slack body testimony to his powers, never knowing he didn't return to their bed until four in the morning, tired and haggard after a full night of sex.
He entered her room around ten forty-five. She was too wild to stop, and he trudged onward....
The silken touch was at once golden and soft, like velvet clouds floating out of the sky, to warm and gently caress the wicked earth below.
He awakened sluggishly, a dull, tired feeling over one hundred percent of his body. Man, was he logged ... He had pussy crawling out of his eyes, blinding him like sleep.
"Darling," the soft voice crooned, the sexy vixen enthralled, rubbing his dead prick tenderly, the hot lips of her fingers sending a message to his brains by pony express, only to be rejected.
"Please forgive me for going out on you, but I simply died. God, you were wonderful to me ... Good God...."
He could merely grunt in reply, wanting only to sleep, to drink something that would maybe pep up his drugginess. And today Monday. Man, sweet cunt had damn near killed him last night.
"Darling, how come it's not moving?" she asked, holding the dead limb limply in her quizzical hand.
"It's been knocked out, baby, from a pussy attack."
"But how, when?" she asked.
"Last night. I wallowed in that thing."
"Oh, you poor dear. Seems like mother is always too knocked out to entertain you properly," she remarked to his dead prick, shaking it.
"Are you hot for it?" he asked her, hoping the negative.
"I want it so far up in me, I'll think it's coming through my throat."
"If you want it brought back alive, there are certain things you must do."
Boy, this would be rich. He would stuff Lenora with a mouthful of prick.
"What must I do, darling?" she asked him seriously.
"Let the fires from your lips rejuvenate it."
She was now over him, rubbing the head in the lips of her wet cunt.
"What knocked you out of commission?" she asked him.
"I just told you. That same treasure you're now punishing it with."
"When?" she asked him, astonished, disbelievingly.
"Last night, darling."
"But I fell asleep, and couldn't push it back."
"Look, baby, let me explain a few things to you. Whenever a person comes, his strength is ebbing. Your pushing it back to me would have been a double effort. Okay, you came once, and fell over for dead. I didn't. Your cunt remained opened, darling. I whacked it three times."
"My poor darling, you must have been really mad at me."
"I was. I tried to punch it off you."
"Silly."
Her manipulations were affecting her, not him. "What did you say I must do?" she asked him, knowing what it was all the time.
But before he could answer, her hot tongue clingingly claimed the prick head, as she took it fully into her mouth, her hands playing with his balls, causing his body to jerk involuntarily, spittle running down the side of his mouth.
Almost instantly, the familiar sensation began stirring through his once aching body. His sluggishness began to disappear, the heady feeling of strong youth capturing him bodily, then turning off sensation of the past, the ever-quickening need of complete relaxation strong in him. She pounced up and on him like an inflamed, enraged tiger, her hot, strong limbs locking him to her, the torrid slamming of her body at once punishing, her sense of time and reasoning shot. She bit into his neck, nipped and blew into his ear, her tongue leaving a blazing trail of nestling love over all his body. Once more she was at him madly, wildly, the groan low and intense that tore from his mouth, his hands struggling in her hair, trying to push her away. But she fought him, that loving tongue nipping and thrilling deeply, her teeth doing soft, little bites, his groans more intense, his body lifting involuntarily, until she lunged deep into him, her movements rapid and frantic, taking his load into her treasure, her lips glued solidly to his, the bed going wild under them as she joined him.
"'Bye; mother," Cally called out.
"See you later, dear," Noah intoned.
He backed carefully out of the driveway, seeing Cally's skirt had ridden up her fat thighs, the view beautiful, checking one last look to a waving Lenora.
"What are you going to do about us?" Cally asked, her guilt-ridden question exploding inside like a bomb, her skirt now up far enough for him to catch just the merest hint of her green panties covering her swell cunt.
They had just a mile to ride to school, and he wanted to arrive composed. It was going to be hard.
"If we had the time, I'd take you by a back road, and ride that thing until you screamed out," he replied, wiping his forehead nervously.
"Could you, now? I doubt it seriously. I doubt if that thing could get up to ride me a minute. It must be very tired and beat out."
"What do you mean?"
"You had mother last night. Then you came to my room and stayed late. This morning I heard you and her. Now, I ask again-what are you going to do about us?"
"Do about us how?"
"You know what I mean, Noah. Do we always have to wait until the weekends?"
"No doubt about it, Cally. You know we can't take chances during the week."
He wouldn't be getting in until late some nights, and Lenora would wait up for him, his dinner hot and ready. Sometimes they would make love later.
"God, Noah, I know we're all wrong by every law of God and Man, but I can't quit because of that. I know that were the lowest forms of humans, but I accept my sins fully. You made me do what I'd been somewhat curious about, and now I like it. God, Noah, a brainy man like you should be able to come up with something to help out."
"I can think of many things and remedies, but none of them are really safe. What we have between us is so beautiful, but we must keep it hidden, and you well know why. On behalf of her, I sometimes wish I hadn't started it, and this includes the beautiful moments we've spent together."
"No, Noah, don't say that!" she screamed.
"All right, all right." He gave in to quiet her.
"Noah, I'm old enough to clearly realize what you're trying to say, and I understand clearly. I just don't wish to wait until the weekend to mate with you."
"How you do talk," he laughed.
"Well, I'm honest. I want it. I need it. I've gotta have it."
They arrived at school without further discussion of the subject, but her mind was made up. She knew exactly what she was going to do this afternoon....
The store was closed now, another weekend. Lane breathed a sigh of relief on one hand, fear on the other. He was afraid to be alone with Debbie.
"Phew, I'm glad that's over," he said carefully, not quite understanding why he felt this way. But there was a feeling of guilt in his body.
"So am I, because now, baby, it's just me and you. I have two main wants, and you'd better not fail me on either of them," she cracked.
Employee-employer relations shouldn't be like this. He was boss here. This little chick would have to clearly realize that.
"Hey, Miss Kent, you apparently don't realize to whom you're speaking?" His voice firmed.
Debbie knew she could be fired, but she would have her say.
"Mr. Lane, you can have my money ready on Monday morning, if you wish, but tonight belongs to us. As I said before, I'm going to get two main things from you, and they'd better be right, or you can explain the knock-down drag-out here. Now cut out that boss jive, because it isn't going over. This is after working hours."
"What fight?" he asked uneasily.
"Between us, man," she answered hotly.
"About what?"
"Your lack of communication."
"What two things do you wish, my dear?"
"Information, and some prick loving. Well take information first."
"Fire away."
"Do you honestly think I'm going to run the store while you're out running and whoring around?"
He wanted to laugh, but didn't, though he couldn't hide the amused expression on his face.
"What gives you these ideas?" he asked, trying to keep his voice flat.
A man and a jealous wife is one thing, but a jealous mistress can be something else altogether again, and he knew this better than anything.
"I believe you're cheating on me with someone other than your wife, while I slave my ass off in this damn store." Her voice wasn't quite so fiery now.
"Do you have firm information on this, or is it that you're just hot for some fucking and need a cooling down, and like most insecure women, you'd rather fight first, because I haven't been paying you too much attention lately?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"I'll be honest, Jack. I haven't ever seen you do anything out of the way toward any woman, but you aren't leaving here all those nights for nothing. And you never touch me anymore," she accused.
"Come here."
She complied willingly, falling into arms that tightened around her Just as she wanted them. She received the kiss, her hot tongue flashing sexually in his mouth.
"Honey, I have other business to attend besides this store, and you know this. That is why I made you my assistant. I had to have someone young enough to grow, yet wise enough that I could trust fully. I'm not trying to make a slave of you, but my business about making this town grow is getting bigger and bigger. Honey, what are you beating me for? Honey, what you really desire is some hot loving, isn't it?"
"Yes," she admitted softly.
"Why didn't you just say so?"
"Because you haven t touched me in over two weeks."
"And you thought a bunch of other women, including my wife, were taking up my time?"
"Yes," she admitted shyly.
"Honey, I won't deny I partake of my conjugal rights with my wife, but not when I leave here."
She kissed him hungrily, her legs running wet and rubbing his, her cunt tight to his touch. He didn't believe she'd had any since the last time. No wonder she was so angry.
His finger rubbing up and down her back made her reckless, her feelings rising higher and higher, her mouth opened wide, her breathing getting more shallow.
"Jack, darling ... Oooooh-don't make me wait much longer," she pleaded and moaned to him.
Throwing her slim arms tight about him, she grasped him tighter to her, her buttocks arching higher and higher off the couch.
"Now, now...." she cried.
But he wouldn't. He toyed with her, his tongue licking around her tongue fully, the heat of her a consuming thing, his tongue dwelling in her navel longer than necessary, her cries becoming more shrill, her hands rubbing up and down his body frantically, her legs high in the air.
"God, darling," she moaned. "don't torture me."
Young, hot and alive, made to miss what she was used to because of him, her boyfriend not coming around too much any more since that first night, she was begging for completion from head to toe.
She felt his hot tongue jam strongly into her wet, hot cunt, causing her to almost faint as the joyous, screaming delight flooded her body in wonderful, spurting, flooding tides of delicious sensation time after time, gagging on her own spittle, as she rocked about wildly, trying to scream his name over and over.
And then he was up and in her, the long strokes searing her insides with a thrill that made her rock about, her hips whipping about so fast now, he had to grasp her tightly about her waist with both hands, just to hold on. She locked her legs around his back, sealing him to her, the wildness lifting them both, as she was hardly breathing, feeling him contorting madly on her, driving her deeper and deeper into the wilderness of animal sex, as neither of them could utter a word, saving their much-needed breathing to force their bodies into greater, thrilling heights. She could stand no more as her cunt grew tighter around his prick, calling for his love juices to mix with her steaming portion, his lips uttering cry after cry.
They stilled, their bodies sated for the time being, their breathing ragged, their sweating bodies glued together.
"Someday you might make me kill you by making me wait," she whispered to him, kissing his fevered mouth.
"Then God has devised no greater way for man to die."
"don't say that!" she cried. "You're much too good to me for any such thing to happen. don't ever take life so lightly, dear."
He couldn't say any more, for he was cock-weak.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The one man in Lipton itching to set Link Caldwell's world on fire took heart from Preacher Martin's sermon, although it took him from the time he heard it until after Christmas before he could react.
Robert Starks, unbeknown to anyone, drafted the long letters, listing alleged allegations against one Link Caldwell.
1. Link Caldwell forced teachers he desired, female, to share his bed, under threats of being barred from teaching any place in Kentucky.
2. If they refused his advances, he sometimes forced them under brutal usage of the Firing Squad, a group of his hand-picked, hard men, that raped a woman senseless, under Link Caldwell's personal orders.
3. That whereas education, and the educational system, in Lipton was drafted to be one of the best, the children, impressed deeply by the man, were not won't to take advantage, thinking that actions such as those exhibited by one Link Caldwell were all really needed to make it.
Robert Starks sat back, folding his hands across his belly, relishing his role, snuffing back his slight fears. Great men never stepped forward if they paid any attention to fear. Most of all, possible rebuttal from the people that were friendly to the man. Something had to be done, and he was the man to ignite the fire. The spark had always been there. He'd merely had to fan it, the spark would catch, and a mighty tree would tumble....
Marlene Hefferman stood before the great man, a bit of fear in her eyes. She stood trembling, watching him advance ori her, the glossiness of his eyes belying his seemed steadiness, having disobeyed his orders to disrobe.
"Mr. Caldwell, I know why you sent for me, but I wish you wouldn't," she said quietly, facing him squarely.
"That's what they all say," he laughed, taking her into his arms.
"I'm not the others, and though you probably will force me, you'll never enjoy it," she remarked simply.
To him, a hurled challenge can be devastating.
"Why do you wish I wouldn't?" he asked, his hand under her dress, in her panties, on her naked buttocks.
"Because I'm engaged to be married on Christmas Day. I'd like very much to enter my marriage clean, not from the hands of another I don't, and never could, love."
"Is this how you really feel?" he asked her seriously.
His finger entered her juicy cunt easily, working the sensitive parts expertly.
Every day since his date with Ginger, some mighty changes had taken place in his senses. Here was a long-limbed woman that could easily be handled by him, bounce right back for more, and still come up with new terms of her own. She was the most woman he'd met in a long time this way. Once before, there had been one, but he was much too young to think about marriage. Now he was much older, and though she was married, that would be easy to fix, and maybe he could then settle down into something good, warm, and wonderful.
"Yessir, Mr. Caldwell, I'm not cut out for this type of life. Oh, sure, I could crawl into your bed, do what you want, then be on my way, but my spiritual values are higher than that. I feel deeply that sex should be performed between two people that really and truly have something to offer each other, not as animals in heat. We Ye supposed to be smarter than them. But this way, it would only make us lower than a snake's belly. You care absolutely nothing for me, except for my body, and I don't even care that much for you. If it wasn't for my body, you wouldn't have sent for me in the first place."
"Why did you come up then?"
"Fear is not one of my better qualities. If I had run, then everyone would have had something to talk about. I meet you head on, tell you the truth, and go from there."
Straight into my bedroom, he thought.
"You wouldn't fox a guy, would you?"
"Not on your life."
Link clasped her to him easily, not like a wild man, as his senses requested, but easy.
Her closed, unmoving lips offered no resistance, no help.
"Baby, we're going to have a good time," he moaned.
"Neither of us will," she stated flatly, feeling his hand working skillfully, knowing that her little speech had gone awry.
Opening her blouse, he removed it easily, unclasping the bra, releasing twin buds of agony, thrills, pleasure, all things a woman's breast means to a man hell-bent on sex.
He took one gently in his mouth.
"Oh, stop! Please," she cried. "You'll give me cancer."
He'd sucked it so hard, she could clearly feel intense movements inside.
"Baby, you've got cancer, and before it's over, I'm going to claim you from head to toe."
Be strong, child, she told herself. Look straight ahead to your coming marriage.
Her other breast was given the same treatment, her facial color reddening, her breathing changing, her tongue moistening slightly opened lips.
"Hmmmmm...." she sighed, moving about in his demanding arms.
He said nothing, nipping her neck, sinking his lips deep into her throat hollow, her head thrown back, white teeth flashing, breathing heavily.
"Don't, please. Oh, God, don't. You're making me cheat on a good man," she moaned.
For a long time, Link never touched her below the belt buckle, sensually warming the young woman in an experienced manner that left her gasping.
Oh, God, please let him be gentle ... She felt her skirt fall away, soon, her body was bare.
"Oh, God, ooooooh, aaahhhhh," she moaned aloud.
Heavy breathing, lips on flesh.
"Oooooh, fill me, drill me, thrill me, kill me," she screamed aloud, gasping, caressing him in a tender, loving hand.
"I should take you standing up...."
"Any way, as long as you pleasure me," she returned.
"Link, what if Mike won't marry me?" she asked him later. "I won't either!"
"don't say it in such a cold manner," she cried protestingly.
"Baby, the truth is always cold. I realize the afterglow should be warm, gentle, and sensual for a woman, but I see no point in lying. Neither of us gains anything that way. I promise to marry you, and you'll expect just that, when you really know I won't. Honey, we would just make shambles of a most sacred thing."
"Why?"
"Because I'd still be chasing everything in skirts. If you tried to match-me, practically every man in Lipton would be having you, leaving you nothing. If you remained true, then misery would be your company, still leaving you nothing...."
And on through the night they talked, loved, then talked more....
News of the hearing broke like wildfire from the Lipton Press. It was a fucking mess.
It has been learned by this paper, from a very reliable source, that No. I citizen of our town, Mr. Link Caldwell, will be the subject of a hearing for the alleged misconduct of educational affairs, by the Kentucky State Teachers Association. A heavy cloud of secrecy surrounds this hearing and no complete details can be reported at this time, but a wide range of speculation spreads, as unduly harsh questions are being asked by an aroused citizenry of Lipton. We all wonder just what Mr. Caldwell might have done to secure this wrath.
The Lipton Press wishes to go on record as saying it does not question this investigation, from a whitewash standpoint, but one can't help but wonder if this isn't all dirty politics. Or maybe an inside job by a jealous man that thinks maybe he might prosper by playing a Judas. Looking over the records, although the School Board had always been in the Caldwell name, only Link ever tried to do anything to further the cause of a real education for our children. The quality of education in this town can rival any big city in the union, and all brought fully about by the same man now under investigation. Our children can go into any college or university in the land, and more than hold their own with the best of them. All because of the one man now under investigation....
There was more, but Robert Starks angrily flung the paper from him. Goddamn, this man certainly led a charmed life. Even the press backed him fully. And that crack that a local man might be behind all this could lead to big troubles. But of course he knew all this before, but he didn't expect the press to exert such pressures for all to read. Now things could really backfire on him....
"Big Man," Ginger sighed lightly, as Link went about his personal, private business at hand. "I hear you're in big trouble."
"Nothing I can't handle," he laughed easily, mixing them drinks.
"Don't laugh, baby. You go into that hearing with a cocky attitude, and that government man is going to literally tear your head off."
"Baby, school is out. They might fire both barrels at me, but right now my record stands for itself. My private life is my own, and nobody messes in that. I have a sawed-off shotgun I can fire all my own."
He smiled at her. He simply couldn't fathom her deep worry. Oh, he knew hearings of this type meant trouble for him, but he wasn't used to worrying about anything. He'd been around enough to know that State and Federal government could be plenty tough. But then, so could he.
Ginger worried more than normal. When she returned home for Thanksgiving, she damn near threw up when her husband touched her, after those wonderful sessions with Link. Furthermore, she made a special trip back to Louisville during the Christmas break just to tell him to seek a divorce, then she rushed right back to spend the season's brightest holiday with Link, her true love, though some of the things he made her do didn't speak much of love. Now this damned hearing. If they learned of this, things might go rougher for Link.
But when he took her into his arms, his liquid kisses drained her of all worry, as she was mere putty in his hands, to be bent to his will, even when it was painful.
To society, or a certain segment of society, a man such as Link is a menace, and worse. He is a lowdown, trifling, no-good, skirt-chasing predatory that should be put forever out of business. He shouldn't be allowed any powers at all, for he abuses more than he rules.
But Link Caldwell was a man that made all people that touched him have opinions, whether he directly touched their lives or not. Such as Faye Martin. Such as Ida Starks.
Though she held no definite proof, Ida Starks knew her husband had stirred all this. He was like a snake in the grass, crawling into position until he could strike, sending forth his deadly venom. But prepared people carry snakebite kits and know how to use them. And use them in time. Oh, one feels sick for a while, but one returns better than ever, healthier and happier than ever before. This would be Link, and her husband would sink. But he was a game little bastard, this she would have to give him credit for. But credit simply means pay more later.
His now precarious position would be shot out from under him, because Link Caldwell would surely survive this investigation, because nothing really definite could or would be proved. He didn't mess in the school funds, only in the school teachers' drawers-and they dug this too much. Actually, the only reason for this thing in the very beginning concerned those teachers. Hey, wait a damned minute! Old Bob must not be making out too well, and this is his way to get even. No wonder the old bastard can't do anything for her half the time. He's too busy trying to satisfy other women, while she suffers at home. So that's it. Well, there was no really written proof that he ever really threatened any teachers. And as far as sex went, what woman doesn t want a handsome man humping her-at least once before she dies? Link Caldwell provided this service, and from all she could hear, satisfaction was guaranteed on every trip.
"Mr. Caldwell, this is Mrs. Starks, and I'd like a private business conference with you," she stated, coming to the point.
Link couldn't imagine what she might be calling him for so early this Saturday morning.
'When might I be of service to you, Mrs. Starks?" he asked, certainly feeling funny about all this.
Right now, you Thriller, she thought.
"When do you think it could be arranged?"
"Tonight would be my only free time. Tomorrow I must go out of town, then my hearing."
"Is that the best?" she asked, her heart beating wildly, not wanting to appear too eager.
"Unless it can wait," he replied.
"It can't. This important matter concerns this hearing, Mr. Caldwell, so it'll have to be tonight. It is safe to come up there after dark, isn't it?"
"As safe as being in your home."
The date was now set and her thighs and cunt were quivering so, she was too weak for a moment to rise.
She had a way to make him want her so that he would go wild and tear her up, even though she was older, and he might not desire her.
She would show him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The naked, white buttocks gleamed brightly in the soft light, the cunt lubrications clearly visible. Her head was jammed into the cushion, not hard but confining. He grasped her thighs tightly with both hands, knowing what he was about to ram home, the brick-like prick invading fully her hot, juicy, smoking cunt.
"Ooooooh," she cried out, as he half slid home, trying to scamper away, but with no place to go, her cunt lips stretched wide.
He lunged deeper, drawing almost a scream from her, the smile on his face cruel testimony of his sexual knowledge.
"Oooooh, ouch, oooooh, aaaaah, please," she cried, feeling him go deeper. "Turn me over and give it to me right."
But he churned his body harder, the popping sounds nearly driving him mad, as he was in, then out, slamming home the message of playing with dangerous fire.
"Ooooooh, don't ... You hurt meeeee...."
He said nothing, breathing heavily, his grip on her hot, squirming thighs tighter, as she sought to get away from his plunging deep and rapid, the big stabber at its peak of hardness.
"Oh, God, God, God, pleaseeeeee...."
His pussy whumper was never livelier. He felt the familiar, burning sensation start, knowing it wouldn't be long now.
"Oooooh, God...." she cried. "You're killing me ... Stop ... Ooooooh, please ... I can't take anymore," she sobbed, her hot tears wetting the couch.
He kept pouring more and more prick into her cunt, ignoring her pain-filled cries, as a loud groan of pleasure built deep in his rampaging gut, struggling upward, filling the room, the whole house, with his lustiness, her old body taking a savage beating.
Then he was coming, going into her so deep she screamed loudly, trying so desperately to get away, but held so firmly. She was at his powerful mercy, the hot shots of come dropping into her body like molten rocks, his hot balls glued to her buttocks. He was shooting it in so fast, from the torrid position he held her in, she felt it might shoot out her mouth.
"Ooooooh, you cruel male animal ... Stop ... Mmmmm. Ouch...."
When he stepped back from her, pulling what she felt was a long hose pipe from her juicy, well-whacked cunt, she fell over weakly on the couch, breathing heavily.
"Baby," he fought for breath, pointing toward her wet cunt, now dripping his hot seed onto her thighs. "Don't ever let no man tell you that ain't a lover's paradise. If I had something to hold my come back all night, I'd ride that thing until I fell over from exhaustion," he exclaimed.
"Thanks for nothing," she spat back, drying her eyes, lying sideways, unwilling to press her cunt lips just yet. "I come up here, bringing you this lover's paradise, never more ready for long, hot, tender loving, and what do you do? Get your kicks and leave me sore, hot, and painful. You skinned me something awful. I might as well have stayed home and suffered."
He took her protesting into his arms, drowning out her flimsy protest with a kiss so resounding she was left limp, her gaping thighs beckoning so deliciously, the down bathed well with his come, glistening like a welcoming light on a dark, lost night.
"Look, baby, I realize I got a little carried away, and shot it to you hard and heavy, but it was your fault for coming at me the way you did. There ought to be a law against you carrying something like that packed between your legs. No judge would ever convict any man for raping you, if he sampled it. He would lock you up for the protection of manhood."
"Bullshit," she laughed good-naturedly.
She fixed them both big drinks of scotch and water, then reseated herself beside him, immediately his finger diving between her thighs, the wetness sounding off.
"Sounds like two people kissing," she laughed.
"Ah, good scotch, good pussy, a good woman, and all night long to fully enjoy it all," he laughed happily.
"You drive a hard bargain, lover," she sighed, lifting one of her legs slightly. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."
"The harder I drive, the better you know you're going to richly enjoy it."
"Not like you just finished driving it to me. Never fuck me that way again."
"But I dig different positions, baby," he protested.
"So do I, when they're comfortable. The way you had me, it was all pain," she timidly explained.
Ida had arrived for this date fully ready. When Link threw open his door, she stood there with her coat fully folded across her full front.
"Why, Mrs. Starks, step right in...." He invited her hostfully, somewhat like the spider to the fly, although he really wasn't expecting a fuck from her. In fact, he was somewhat bewildered by her phone call, having it drift from time to time through his worried mind. Maybe the old bag smelled a rat concerning her husband, and had come to fight for him. But why? For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why.
Maybe she might want to know how he would feel about Bob testifying if he was called. Hell, that wouldn't be any bother, unless he tried to lie about something. Then he would snap him in half.
It never entered his mind Bob might be the man behind all this!
"Mr. Caldwell, I do hope I'm not intruding on anything ... of a personal matter," she remarked, looking around as though she might be seeking someone.
"Disappointed?" he asked her, a dazzling smile playing around his mouth.
"Happy. I want this meeting to be held in strictest secrecy."
"Rest assured. That's why no one is around but us."
"Are you really sure we're alone?" she asked. She seemed to be really worried about this point.
"Further assurance can only come from a full house inspection, Mrs. Starks. Shall we begin?" He held out his hand.
She wanted no cameras around.
"Oh, come now, Mr. Caldwell, let's be mature about this thing. After all, we are adults."
"Rest assured, we are."
She seated herself on the couch.
"Are you ready?" she asked him, a honey of a wicked smile playing about her painted mouth.
"Let's get this business under way."
"Let's."
She threw open her full-length coat, then stood up, laughing at the surprised and shocked look registering in his face. She came dressed in her birthday suit, except for the coat.
"Why, Mr. Caldwell, I do believe you're shocked speechless, my good man. I never thought the sight of pussy would cause you such consternation."
And he was. Never in all his pussy-plunging years had anything met his tired eyes this way. And especially from someone so long in the community.
"Cat got your tongue?" she teased, moistening her lips.
"Why, n-no," he stammered.
She reseated herself, swinging her legs up and wide, the coat now discarded, the split slightly opened, the pink meat visible.
"In all your cunt-hunting days, Mr. Caldwell, how can I manage to shock you?" she teased further.
"It ain't easy, but you surely have," he blurted.
"The meat is here. Ain't you going to feed your dog, man?"
He undressed so swiftly, it was record time.
"Are you satisfied now?" he asked her hoarsely, both of them breathing heavily once again, her thighs still locked with his.
"Oooooh, yes, yes, yes," she sighed, swinging her head up from where it had been hanging off the couch to kiss him.
"Oh, Lord, yes, I guess I am...."
"Fix me a big drink, man," she laughed loudly, a joyous scream filling the air.
"How big?" he boomed, both of them well lit. "Bigger than anything...."
"What anything?"
"Bigger than the Empire State Building, babeeeee."
"Why so big?"
"Because I want to stay up with you all night, baby. Mama mustn't sleep a wink. I want you to go deep-sea fishing, oil-well drilling, knife plunging, bun burning, feed the lion, all that pussy-popping jazz. I want you to plunge that wick in my lamp, oil me, so that I may light up bigger and brighter than the sky. Light my fire, man...."
"Baby, you're crazy," he laughed.
"Crazy for more of this." She grabbed his prick.
"So you think Bob set me up for this?" he asked lazily.
"Aw, don't even think about that party-pooper, let alone speak about him. Forget that I'm married to him. It's time for rod knocking, baby. My block needs oil, and I ain't gonna throw this rod," she crooned, drunkenly kissing his chest.
"I know." He kissed her until she begged for relief. "Baby, you may tell me something I can use for my defense."
"I don't know what I can tell you, but I sure have plenty you can use any way you see fit," she giggled.
She'd once been an aspiring ballet dancer, but lack of money forced her to abandon this dream, though she practiced through many routines she'd caught from various movies, and some original moves her wild imagination dreamed up.
She liked to lean back on her haunches sideways, one leg outstretched before her, the other high in the air, one hand supporting her from behind. As she was somewhat double-jointed, she was able to strain her neck far enough to look up her cunt.
"God, I look like a monster in there," she thought-"I wonder why men go absolutely wild over something as nasty-looking as all that...."
Ida had been a curious child. Her mother, old-fashioned as the hills, believed severely in an early-to-bed, early-to-rise existence. One morning, early, something stirred her awake earlier than usual. Normally, the door to her room was kept shut, but her father must have left it open when he brought her the glass of water. Anyway, she could hear their bed shaking and her mother making a funny, whining noise, as though daddy might be killing her. "Mother," she whispered, jumping off the bed, something warning her to be quiet. As she silently approached their room, her father, his voice very different, was talking to her mother. She sounded all out of breath, sort of choked up, and then they went into the damndest noisemaking she'd ever heard in her life. She was alarmed, yet fascinated, but yet something held her back from running to them.
"God, God, God...." she heard her mother moan.
In the gloom, she could now make out their figures, her father's heaving body beating her mother down into the bed, and she was trying to beat him up. They were wrestling, her legs locked around his back. She couldn't see it all, but every time he slightly raised his body, her mother seemed to be trying to come up with him, but he beat her back.
Later, when she asked her about this, she was almost beaten to death. But she found out anyway. One night the lights were on, and she could see the long thing appearing and disappearing. She felt between her legs. Why wasn't a man on her? She pee'd, too. Man, her mother was having fits.
Later a boy named Black taught her plenty, though he hurt her at times.
"Do you remember the first piece you ever got?" she asked him, nipping his ear.
"Sure."
"What was she like?"
"All soft, long-legged, easy to tire out, and just plain helpless, plus being scared to death...."
"Ooooh, I'll bet you set those drawers on fire," she crooned, nipping his stomach painfully.
"Ouch, baby, That's not the way to love me."
"As long as we do something, I'm satisfied."
"You act as though you haven't had any in weeks," he laughed.
"It isn't funny," she pouted, turning her back to him.
"Aw, baby, don't act so childish. You came to me for loving, and I shall deliver."
Presently, she found his well-experienced tongue doing things to her down there, as she began to gasp and moan, thrashing about wildly under his expert manipulations, her utter cries of helplessness fuel to the fire, as sweat popped out all over her, the moaning cries she created were a musical of pleasure-pain.
"Oh, Link ... Baby ... God-you. Ooooh, and-God...."
With sensation after powerful sensation spewing through her body, her heels dug into the bed, her thighs lifting mightily as Link clung with all his strength, her heaving body about to shake him off, as her hands clawed the bed.
"Drill me, oh, drill me, fuck me, but don't kill me," she cried, her blazing tongue dipping his ear, her charms locked solidly to him.
Ida had consumed a gallon, it seemed. Link knew well she wouldn't ever make it home alone.
In fact, she couldn't even make it up from the floor where she lay slumped.
The time was near four in the morning, and they'd had some kind of a party. Boy, what a rowdy night he'd spent. She'd certainly consumed her liquor in one night, throwing more hot cunt at him than two women, which just goes to prove, youth isn't always the winner. For a woman closer to retirement than to twenty-five, she certainly was a rocker, that swinging cunt grasping his hard prick snugly time after time, demanding and getting the joy juices that make sex so complete. And those young bitches with their hot cunts thought they were so much hell....
If not. for this coming investigation, he would put her to bed, and permit her to sleep it off, then hammer that cunt some more, but that wouldn't work now, as Bob seemed to be his main adversary. But he couldn't place too much stock in that. Preacher Martin or any of those teachers he'd fucked could very well be behind this whole thing. And then again, it could very well be someone not standing to gain a damn thing but the sweet sight of seeing him taken from power in this town. His provocations touched many lives, and Starks had entirely too much to lose by a fool play such as this.
Uh-uh. She was probably mad at him about something, and took it out this way. Women react funny when they're mad. And from the way she came about, and at him, Starks wasn't dropping enough loads in her gun. link staggered to the phone, taking a long time to dial a simple number, the fuzziness of drunk sleep grabbing for his heavy eyelids. She and he were so drunk, it would take three days to sober them up. Later, he would have to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed if he was to make this business trip. Of course, he could cancel out, but wouldn't, unless forced by circumstances beyond his control.
Billy Adams, one of Link's personal workers, taken from a friendly poker game, arrived eager before his door, walked calmly in, not really sure of what to expect.
Link swiftly explained the situation. Ida must be returned home. He could leave her in the car, if he wished, but she must be gotten home. Link slumped out of sight now.
"Goddamn, what a party," Billy mused, wrapping the coat around her dead weight body, after ramming his finger up her wet cunt. His prick jumped so damn hard, he wanted to mount right then and there, but Link might stir awake.
Billy placed her in the car on top of her neatly piled clothing, the cold night air doing nothing to revive her. She slumped over the minute he let her go.
Having started the car about ten minutes before bringing her out, with the doors shut, the heater working, the smell of sardines and liquor and sweat assailed his nostrils strongly. Not too offensive a smell, when one is used to women.
"Baby, you must have pussy whacked ole Link good," he guffawed.
The plan formed swiftly in his mind. Hell, he wasn't dirty or cruel, but everyone needs money. Just before pulling around the bend that would bring him to the stop sign before entering Kentucky 90, he stopped the car, turning off the headlights, locking the car in park. "Baby...." he shook her.
There was no response, save her ragged breathing.
"Wake up, baby...." He shook her once more, his finger up her cunt.
"Boy, if you weren't so dead, I'd ride them buns awhile myself."
He then pulled on.
"Boys, wanna have some fun?" he asked them.
"Man, wha'cha talkin' 'bout?" one of them asked, a guy that answered to Red.
"Boys, what's the worse snake in the world?" he asked.
Puzzled, all three of them had an answer.
"Boa constrictor," Red.
"Sidewinder rattier," Blue answered.
"Cobra," a guy named Ben said.
"You're all wrong," Billy laughed. "It's the Pants Snake."
"The what?" Confusion ringed among them.
"The Pants Snake. It can bite a woman and she won't get over it for nine months. Now, what I have to offer is a woman, a little dead meat she is right now, slightly spoiled, and well used. Them pants snakes can do a little biting, and nothing will happen in nine months. I'll make you guys a deal. For five dollars a piece, I can git your ashes hauled to the limit...."
"Man, what th' hell you mean?" Blue asked.
Billy quickly explained.
"She could be the governor's wife, and I wouldn't pay five good dollars for it. Not moving...."
"Okay, fellers. Just thought I'd ask."
He started for the door.
"Wait," Red called out. "Hell, five dollars ain't nothing. Bring 'erin...."
"All you goin'" Billy asked.
Reluctantly, yes. Billy collected fifteen dollars.
"Boys, the meat is yo'all's to cut, but hold that stopper up until all of ya go init. Then we'll stand 'er up straight, and see how much drips out...." he guffawed.
Ida was laid out on a table just high enough for each man to lift her thighs so that she wouldn't drip until they finished, as they held her in their arms.
"Let's take her outside," Red suggested, still plunged deep in the wet, hot confines, but all drained out now. He was the last.
"No. It's too dark. Right here in the light."
They swung her up gently, three men's leavings striking the floor with a dull, thud-like, flop-flop-flop-spat. Ida's head lolled to her chest, as she now began to stir, her first wakefulness.
"Oooooo," she moaned as she was lowered back to the table.
"Git 'er coat on," Billy ordered them.
He was going to get her out of here fast. With her waking, it would be well into the day before they would let her go.
When he pulled up before her door, she still lay slumped in the seat.
"Baby, one more round fer th' night, and you Ye through, unless your old man wants some," he guffawed.
Billy sprawled her out in the front seat, then mounted her easily, her thighs rubbing hotly up and down his sides.
"Make it good to me, baby," he cried, whacking her good.
"Good, so good," she crooned. "Oooooh, baby, don't stop."
They went off together, then she slumped back out. He eased himself out of the car, walking up the street, whistling a happy tune.
Starks heard the car door slam, investigated, then brought his drunk, nude, well-fucked wife into the house.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The hearing was about ready to get under way. Nothing was for sure in this thing, as it was being played mostly by ear. There were many accusations, but strangely few cross-accusations. In fact, Caldwell had kept a strange quiet throughout the entire thing, not saying much. Unless some breaks were gained along the way, Caldwell would retain his position, his power, the whole works, because they really had nothing concrete on him. But maybe the least bit of doubt could surely be cast in this unhealthy situation. In any event, he would be closely watched from here on.
John Gapp, federal man from Louisville, was merely here as an observer, a legal guardian out of Washington. Since federal funds came directly to this man, to be used as needed for education, it was specifically wanted to be known if he made personal use of them for his many dates, as this was common knowledge. The federal man couldn't care less how many women lavished their charms on this man, unless federal money was being used to finance these deeds of pleasure.
Brett Hayes, Sixth District Representative of Kentucky State Teachers Association, would conduct this hearing to the best of his natural ability. His whole case definitely hinged on what the teachers, females, reported. Though a man had definitely sent in the report, it wasn't likely that much prominence would be placed in his position, unless he could deliver positive proof of his accusations. He positively wanted to know if these women had to lavish their charms on this man just to retain their jobs, as reported.
Richard Bartlett, President of the Kentucky State Teachers Association, all districts, would conduct this hearing. He definitely felt himself a man on the spot. He and Link's daddy had gone on many hunting trips together and enjoyed a fine friendship through the years. He wasn't near as close to Link, but he definitely knew the man, and knew him to be hard, cold when he had to be, but fair in most dealings. As long as these women did their assigned jobs, it would be hard for him to act as judge of their morals, although everyone serving the public has the social obligations to present behavior above reproach
"This hearing will come to order," rapped Jacob Sterns.
It was a cold, clear day outside, and the February weather was about right. A sampling of the people's opinions had been taken, and few knocked the man in question. They backed him overwhelmingly.
Link seated himself quietly, wishing that he was in between a fat pair of thighs, balling it to some woman strongly. This hearing was a bunch of bull, and equally a waste of time.
"This is a closed-session hearing on the alleged misconduct of Mr. Link Caldwell, President of the Lipton, Kentucky Teachers Association Board. The first witness in this hearing will be Mrs. Sheila Burns."
Sheila came forward in all her sexy loveliness, causing a stir among the men in this group. Those that still recognized true sex, all the many pleasures it meant.
She took her seat after swearing to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth.
"Mrs. Burns, we want you to fully understand this is a closed-session hearing on the alleged misconduct of Mr. Link Caldwell, concerning his personal behavior toward the female teachers in this town, and that anything you say will be held in strictest confidence. Mrs. Burns, how long did you teach in the Lipton School System?"
"Five years."
"Was Mr. Caldwell president all this time?"
"Yessir."
"In fact, he did the final okaying of your contract, is this correct?"
"Yessir."
"What was his behavior at that time, Mrs. Burns?"
"Purely business-like, as I remember it. I seem to remember he said something about how the Lipton school children deserved a much better education, as they were from a small town, and could possibly get trampled by the big city competition, unless they excelled. So, therefore, only highly qualified teachers would be accepted."
That somewhat rankled his next question, forcing him to drop many things entirely.
"Very well, Mrs. Burns. Now I must ask you some rather personal questions about your association with Mr. Caldwell. Mrs. Burns, it has come to my attention that you used to date Mr. Caldwell quite frequently, and that many of these dates were of the forced variety. Is this correct?"
She said nothing.
"Mrs. Burns...?"
She still would not reply.
"Mrs. Burns, we all know this is a rather embarrassing position for you to be in, but this is a hearing on a rather important issue, and we must have answers to all questions put to you by Mr. Stern," Hayes reminded her quietly but forcefully.
She nodded her head affirmatively.
"Yes, I used to date Mr. Caldwell...."
Now, they could get to the real meaning of this hearing.
Caldwell sat relaxed, seemingly not worried about anything. He wasn't represented by any sign of council, feeling that this would be an admission of guilt. He frankly didn't give a damn what they did. They couldn't keep him from a woman, no more than they could keep people from making money.
"Were those dates acceptable to you?"
"Yes."
She might as well get this over with. "Were you forced in any way?"
"No."
"Just exactly how did your dating with Mr. Caldwell actually begin? I mean, did you seek him out? Was it a normal meeting between you two? Or did he just come right out and say that you had to date him, or be blackballed from teaching the rest of your life?"
"Forced?" she asked eloquently. "I mean, you didn't have to date Mr. Caldwell to retain your position?"
"The only man that ever tried to force a date out of me to keep my job was Mr. Starks. Mr. Robert Starks."
And that really dropped a bomb on this hearing, making the important ones forget that she hadn't answered any questions about Mr. Caldwell.
"And exactly what position did you take with Mr. Starks?" Stern asked, not feeling too well right now.
"I simply reported the whole thing to Mr. Caldwell."
Robert Starks, the man behind this whole matter, was now clearly and irrevocably brought to the front.
"Mrs. Bums, let me clearly understand this: You dated Mr. Caldwell freely, and Mr. Starks tried to coerce a date?"
"Yessir. Mr. Starks stated that Mr. Caldwell was no better than he was, and if his father had been in power, their positions would be reversed. Unfortunately, Mr. Starks just turned me off entirely."
"In the beginning, exactly how did you and Mr. Caldwell get together? I mean, exactly how did you meet under social terms?"
Sheila pondered for a moment or two. Over the phone, Link had ordered her to bring that sweet ass up to him or else. Later, he was making it so good, she didn't give a damn.
"Mr. Caldwell and I met socially at a party, where we danced, talked, and found a mutual attraction for each other. Well, you know...."
He smiled.
Miss Brooks testified that she dated Mr. Caldwell any time he wished, and other occasions also, and that Mr. Starks had tried to force himself off on her, and they had fought about it.
"He told me that he could break Mr. Caldwell any time he wished, and that I'd better realign myself with the winning team before it was much too late, or be washed down the drain with Mr. Caldwell."
"What then, if anything, did you do?" she was asked.
"I merely laughed at him. He couldn't make me date him with a hundred guns. To be honest, Mr. Starks was highly repulsive to me...."
She was soon hustled off the stand.
The federal man left town shortly. He simply had no case. In fact, if everyone handled the federal money with the same forthrightness and sincerity that Mr. Caldwell did, he might well be out of a job. The money was used exactly as allotted, and the teachers were all topflight. In fact, Mr. Caldwell had personally sunk his private funds into this picture to make this high-toned education deal work.
At the conclusion of the hearing, Mr. Starks was the man in the spotlight now. And Mrs. Starks didn't give a damn at all. She could get Mr.
Caldwell's attention sometimes, and that was better than none at all....
"Those prick-hungry bitches lied for that raping son-of-a-bitch," Starks remarked bitterly.
Early on that Sunday morning, after Starks had finally gotten his wife somewhat sobered up, after the five men were finally through with her, he wanted to choke and beat her. There could be no possible denying of what she'd been doing. He didn't know where or with whom.
If Ida had possibly known all the facts behind this night and fully related them, Starks might have been made wild enough to kill her. She only knew she wouldn't ever, ever, ever tell him about Link, and she didn't know with whom she was in the car, or why she felt somewhat sore down there.
"I merely went across the line for something to drink, got stopped by some men in a car, and they made me have a party," she sickly told him.
A fit of rage swept through him.
"Did you try, at any time, to get away?" he asked her, a cold edge to his voice.
"Honey, I couldn't get away. They took me to come lonely place, stuck a gun in my neck to make me drink, got me drunk and took what they wanted...."
"Did you try to fight?" he asked her.
"I can't fight a gun and four men."
"Did you notify the police of this afterward?"
"Noooo ... You found me in the car...."
"Let me get this straight: You were kidnapped by four men, all of whom made you get drunk, stripped you, then made you have intercourse with Ihemall."
"Don't say it like that," she cried, faking a shame she didn't feel.
"Well, how the hell else should I say it?"
"Honey, please don't shout. I know I was wrong for going over there alone, and I might have been killed, and all that, but you never pay me any mind, and I gotta have something. I just wanted a drunk...."
She sounded so sad and pitiful, he eased up just a bit.
Starks walked on away from his wife, not really caring any more. He about had everything wrapped up in his favor, and she wouldn't be a part of his life any more.
And then, that loss....
Cally purchased the strongest sleeping pills she could find that were not habit-forming. Though she would feel like a coward slipping this into her mother's drinks, she'd be damned if she'd wait until the weekends for intercourse with Noah, and then may not be able to make it. And she couldn't depend on her mother getting drunk all the time. Nor would she allow that stupid clod to touch her anymore than just kissing. So she had to do something on her own, and these sleeping pills were it.
It was a Tuesday night, and her cunt was burning and itching something awful. She needed action and no fumbling little boys were going to mess with her. She knew that Noah would be late in coming home from school, and that she didn't want to use this stuff too early. By having no experience with it, she didn't know exactly what to expect. But she couldn't have her mother waking up just when things got best.
When Noah walked into the door, Cally was seated on the sofa in a thin nightgown, with nothing on underneath, her cunt freshly washed and water tightened.
He had to stop for a moment, surveying the situation cautiously. He didn't really know what to make of it.
"Where's Lenora?" he asked quietly.
"Where she should be when my tired lover strolls in. In bed asleep."
There was something about her assurance that frightened him.
"She must have had a rough day."
"No rougher than usual," she answered casually.
"Cally, just what the hell is going on around here?"
She explained swiftly to him.
"I want you, man. Mother took some sleeping pills, and she won't disturb us. Eat your dinner, which is ready, and then talk to me about the birds and bees. I want that stiff prick in my hot cunt immediately, if not sooner."
Already, he was deeply sorry about it all now, but it was a little too late. Knowledge about this affair to be shared by others would make him a ruined man. If Lenora knew, he would be a dead man.
"Cally, why didn't you wait like I asked you?"
"Because I don't care to wait. I want you, and I want you now. Waiting is a thing I've had to do all my life, and I'm tired of it. You get that food down your gut, and get ready to ride this Palomino. I mean do it to death...."
Noah shed his coat, unable to eat anything. Suddenly, food lost all taste to him, a ball of fear in his stomach too big to handle.
"Cally, I don't want to hear of your using sleeping pills on your mother anymore. I want you to understand this clearly. Ruining your mother's health isn't going to prove anything."
Cally flared angrily.
"Big Man, you made me get this way. I used to sit around here minding my own business. All I ever had was that television set, and I can't very well make love to that. So one night you got drunk, and couldn't leave me alone. What's the matter, man, you getting tired of what you can have all you want for nothing? Maybe it's the same old story. You want something so bad until you get it, then it means nothing. Well, it won't work that way with me. When I want loving, baby, you're going to thrill me until I want to scream. And when I want it, I'll get mother out of the way in a manner that won't hurt any of us. We all can use a good night's sleep now and then. Tonight is her turn. You deny me now, or ever, and Big Man, I can punch a hole in your sail. I've got you bent backward over a barrel, and you're going to sock it to me. So now, if you can't eat, get up and get with it."
She came close, rubbing his temples tenderly. "Big Lover, I don't mean to be harsh, for that won't make a good loving atmosphere, but facts are facts. I'm just a hot-cunted babe, and until I meet someone that can go like you, then you'll just have to fill the bill."
She kissed his head warmly.
She placed his hand under her gown.
"Feel how hot I am, darling," she crooned into his ear softly.
Like a hand possessed, it grabbed her hot parts caressingly, his finger with a mind all its own. No matter how much he might dislike what she'd done, or what he'd allowed himself to be pushed into, Lenora could come down those stairs now, and he would attempt to make a deal about having them both, just as he sometimes felt.
He felt her hand on his pants.
"Your hosepipe seems ready to water my grass, Lover," she said softly, her lips clinging hotly to his.
"Let's do it right here," he growled, caught up now.
Cally straddled his lap, immediately, impaling herself on his prick, the wetness of her accepting him easily, though she groaned in slight pain, her hot thighs as lush as anything.
As she struggled strongly over him now, Noah forgot all about everything, glad that she put Lenora out of it, glad that he could make both women under this roof, glad that he was alive to fully enjoy it all.
"Sock it to me, mama," he groaned.
Like a squeezing, ever-tightening vise, her cunt swelled on his hard, stabbing prick, making it feel so good he damn near screamed out.
"Is it good to you, baby?" she teased.
"Yes," he moaned. "Is it good to you?"
"Yes...."
"How good is it, Lover?" she asked, going off. "It's so good ... Oh, God, I'm coming," he groaned.
Lenora stirred in her sleep, dreaming that something was going on, but unable to fight her way out from under the intense cobwebs. Something wrong was going on, and she could clearly sense it.
But she was helpless to fight....
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Climbing slowly from the scented bath water, a sluggish aching back not being helped much, Faye slowly dried herself, knowing the one answer to this monumental problem. Always before, a scented bath left her feeling refreshed and cool, but not this time. Even the fragrance sickened her.
Lying on her bed, throwing both legs in the air, high and wide, her water-tightened cunt never really drying anymore, she thought of her husband, somehow the image always coming up Caldwell.
So much so that now she wasn't shocked by her wicked mind.
God help her, but there was a man that knew what a woman is for, why she is for it, and what it really means. He would plug her cunt full, if he ever got the chance, and make her love every scorching minute, her big, healthy, country girl body now needing a man's attentions so badly, forgive her, Lord, she wanted to scream.
If a boy broke through that door, she would send him away-later.
Faye lay rubbing her melon-sized breast tips, feeling them harden, sending a message centered between her gaping thighs ... Cunt, prick, come mix. Lips chill, thrill, feel, arms and legs entwined.
"Oh, God," she moaned lowly, almost a, cry.
Luther was more than adequate for her needs, when he fulfilled them, but not nearly often enough. The grass always looks greener on the other side. Is this then why women really play?
She often wondered if other women suffered as she did. Maybe that's why there's so much cheating, wife-swapping, divorces.
That gaping patch winked at a man constantly, causing fright in most of them. It wasn't that she had to be fretted, petted, wetted, before being taken, as she was forever in a constant state of agitation.
Luther was just so busy saving souls, he seemed to forget about saving their marriage, that soul centered between her lovely thighs, just made for wopping a man until he screamed for release.
When she was a young girl, not that she was frivolous with her charms, but she made many a young boy wish for a baseball field, especially in the hot summertime, when she could sweat like ninety and never tire. And she wasn't like most women that became sore after a few punches. Sometimes her tail became sore from bouncing around on hard clods, when some big-pricked man seemed to bore her through the ground. Oh, yes, a couple of grown men had shagged her tail real good, when she was but fourteen. She hadn't been so foolish as to get caught either way, so most men felt her to be a demure virgin, until she got them alone....
On her wedding night, Martin had begged for sleep, after only twice. Though she craved more, she finally relented.
God, right now she was so hot and bothered, the turgid lips of her cunt just chafing for a battering, she was game for almost anything, up to and including masturbation. And this was such a sinful waste.
Now, that Caldwell guy....
They'd been in this town for a little over two years now, and she'd heard plenty about him.
Her first encounter came from two women in the market, even before she knew the man existed.
'Honey, I'm so sore, I feel like a tree has been shoved up my tail all night...."
T know what you mean,' the other woman exclaimed excitedly, their whispering voices carrying to her. That man rides a saddle until it's almost too sore for washing ... '
'He fulfills a woman's expectations, and then some."
'And that's not all he fills,' the second woman giggled.
T wonder if I'll ever marry such a man."
T won't be so lucky. I'll probably tie up with some guy that will leave me higher than a kite in the long run."
'Before Jenny Maxwell's old man made her leave this town, I hear old Link was really botching up his pitiful performances."
They both laughed, moving on.
Such nasty women, Faye then thought, but not anymore.
Now Luther needed Link's help-and was going to get it, if things kept up at the sorry rate they were going.
Faye wanted deeply, almost desperately, to feel a hard prick shoved deep into her soft, wet, hot cunt, the hot balls smack against her bun cheeks, the hot juices from the intense lovemaking burning into her bum hole, her body servicing back like volleyball returns, her arms and lips caressing, driving her lover through to completion, her enthralled kissing driving both of them into coolness and satisfaction, only her burning cunt lips bearing full testimony. But right now, all she had was a cunt so juicy it was about to sag her panties off.
How could she possibly meet the terribly lovely man?
For a solid week, Faye had teased and hinted strongly to Luther of her intense needs, but to no avail.
"Darling, how can we possibly find out if two plus two really makes four?"
"Honey, would you like to go deep-sea fishing?"
"Dear, drill my oil well awhile."
"Need your ashes hauled?"
"My money-maker sure needs your bankroll."
And such.
But he prayed on, reading his Bible, and spoke of fire and brimstone eventually coming to fully destroy this cruel and wicked world.
Oh, this wicked city, the wicked people populating it, and their wicked ways. God doesn't love ugliness. Weakness of the flesh had foolishly destroyed so many useful people, that had so very much to offer, until Satan whacked deep into their brains about the sinful ways of the weak flesh. Old men, certainly old enough to know better, fooled young, innocent girls into their beds, back seats of cars, almost any place save actually downtown daylight, and this might become common any day now. Thus deflowered, used into misfits, these now bitter misses ushered their charges into this wicked world, allowing them to grow up like wild weeds, strong as trees, dead in the brains like winter leaves, to populate their world with a particular brand of hatred, demanding this, taking that, leaving plunder and total destruction in their wake. One wonders how it all really starts, until the weaknesses of the flesh blot out all but that total sinful need once more, and man deflowers more, breaking the sacred bonds of marriage, not caring one iota as they destroy the most beautiful life on earth, as flesh must be served, no matter in what capacity.
In this great day and age, leisure time breeds weaker ideas, and the flesh craves more plunderings, the imagination going wild with the restless times, man wildly dreaming up bigger and better ways to promote more leisure times. Our hands are empty, our, minds full, as gadgets have replaced the needs of man to earn his living by the sweat of his brow, leaving ample time for evil thinkings, evil doings, automatically turning to beautiful womanhood. And so, womanhood, excited, agitated, like never before, becomes fully caught up in this livid turmoil, actually boasting this plundering, seeking ways to best help this predatory male destroy her....
Take me, hold me, kiss me, thrill me, Faye screamed silently to her husband.
But he meditates on, seemingly oblivious to her needs, the world weighing so heavily on his shoulders.
Fuck me, Oh, Great Man of God's.
Her silent pleadings went to no avail.
Hell, she needed no reasons. The fires in her cunt were reasons enough....
Christmas, the hearing, any reasonable reasons she might have for paying a visit, were all gone. No special church collections were necessary, unless....
She simply couldn't walk up and ask the man to fuck her, could she?
"Why, Mrs. Martin...."
He could-clearly tell she was upset, shy, frightened....
"May I come in?" she asked with a soft coolness she didn't near feel.
Neat. Class, he felt.
"By all means, Mrs. Martin. What, may I ask, entitles me to such an honored visit?" he asked, excited, not even bothering to offer her a seat or any refreshments.
To get my cunt plundered, I hope, she answered to herself.
"Well, seeing how you're the town's number one citizen, and even though it's only the middle of January, I'm trying to kick off an Easter drive for the poor and needy children in this town. To purchase some clothing and eggs to hide. From my now meager beginnings, I hope this will become an annual event. I mean, we have all other drives going, but Easter seems to be forgotten about entirely-nationwide. I'm asking early, to give people plenty of time to think."
He wanted to laugh, yet didn't. He wanted to grab and hug her, yet didn't. If ever a woman came for a fucking, this one was it. Yet she sought to gloss it over with nonsense.
A powerful animalism aura surrounded her. This poor child, his sensitive cells seeing all out, wanting to devour this fair maiden, her gaze intense for a moment, then dropping away shyly, her melon-sized breasts pushing steadily against the cheap material that restrained them, the slim waist with slight stomach rise, jutting off into perhaps the most powerfully built set of thighs he'd ever seen on a woman. A great big, healthy, country girl just made for his special brand of loving.
"Might I offer you something in the way of refreshments?" he asked her.
Yes, about nine inches, man.
"Do you have a Pepsi?" she asked aloud.
"Plenty. I want to hear more about this drive ... "
I want to hear you grunting over me, fucking us both to satisfaction.
After perhaps twenty minutes or so of small talk, Link, tired of this senseless drivel, his prick jumping and throbbing to taste the lovely, soft meat seated between those lush thighs, his clenching hands just aching to play with her breast, her clitoris, her all....
Unable to control himself any longer, Link took her hand in his, rubbing it softly, noting her eyes slightly widening, her breathing changing.
"You are too beautiful," he enthused.
"Mr. Caldwell," she coyly pretended shock.
"Forgive me, Mrs. Martin, but I am overcome by your sexy and wanton beauty. May I not make an ass of myself, but I want to feel my balls moving against your juicy, delicious cunt lips, your cunt surging my prick as if to snap it off. I know you feel the same way, my darling."
"Mr. Caldwell," she sighed, blushing, reddening.
He pulled her closer, the woman heat, smell, the melon breast, the contours into the gentle, soft, sweet orifice of lush pleasure, the all of her assailing him so intently it was hard not to lose control, her hot, honeyed lips tasting of the first flower of spring, her hand playing around his pants fly.
"Mr. Caldwell, don't," she sighed lowly, one hand in his back, the other now inside his pants.
"Baby, I must have your love juices," he said, feeling her luscious breasts through the material.
"I have many gallons that need dumping," she cried, biting his ear painfully.
Unable to wait any longer, Link lifted her dress, not even taking her panties off, moving them aside, working into the juicy cunt lips so easily, both of them going at it like mad dogs, her hands digging frantically into his back, her lips seeking his eagerly, her surging thighs threatening to floor them both, as her tongue shot deeply into his mouth, seeking to blot out the powerful shame her animalism had forced her into.
"Oooooh, baby...." she moaned. "Blot out all evil between my legs ... Oooooh, it's good...."
Her juicy tongue rammed in and out of his mouth, in time with their frantic movements, as though she might be mouth fucking him. .
"Mmmmmmm...." she screamed in her throat, her mouth now glued to his, her arms tight around his waist, and he well knew why.
"Damn, baby," he groaned, both of them lying weakly on the floor. "You came like ninety...."
"Don't laugh! It's not a bit funny. I just haven't had any action."
Boy, if old Martin could see them now! His old lady at his side, her sweet cunt so full of love juice, a battleship could have floated.
"I must go soon," she reminded him lazily.
"You reckon we have time for another soul-saving time before you go?"
"All the time in the world. I'm ready as ever," she sighed, caressing every inch lovingly, her eyes sparkling, looking deeply into his.
I'll send the preacher man back an assful of nature, he felt, falling into those lush thighs, feeling them surge honey-sweet, the gasping tide seeking even his balls that bounced greedily along the cheeks so lush, her greedy cunt lips sucking his prick for its endearments....
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Spring rolled into these fuck-filled hills, bringing the warming relief all people eventually seek, no matter how much they love winter. Change is good.
Romance filled the air, with a sensual feeling, mat had boy dreaming wildly about something he couldn't quite understand. He knew the little girls were now shedding their heavy, figure-hiding wraps, were now showing all their lovely charms. Thank God for miniskirts. This coming season would mean the biggest showing of gams the American male would ever see.
To Link Caldwell, a miniskirt was just a necessary nuisance to hide the true package until he could unwrap it alone in his bedroom.
Jack Lane ordered Debbie a special pair of mini-panties, which he made her embarrassingly model for him alone one night, the sexual tide leaving them both weak and exhausted.
Noah Connors was very sorry for his, and the discovery of sleeping pills. No matter what suspicions he might voice, Cally had a rapid reply, made up sorely to please her buns. As a result, his sexual intercourses had increased to a point where only the monthlies allowed him any real rest. But he knew Lenora was much too smart to fool much longer. Something would happen to trap them. She was highly suspicious of her falling asleep so often.
Robert Starks, a broken and beaten man, resorted to drinking to comfort his aching mind. He had played his cards, and lost the whole pot.
Link didn't break Starks' back, but he took away a very useful thing he was involved in; namely, the Town Council and the School Board. He was like a fish out of water. The only avenue of revenge opened to him was murder, and that was beneath him. So he was left to mire in his own muck, seeing his once beloved Ida drift away from him. She now went about much as she pleased, sometimes coming home smelling of liquor, sometimes like sardines, and a lot of times smelling of both. Whoever was screwing her must be doing a bang-up job, as she refused every advance her husband made. So he had only his cheap bottles.
Ginger had now filed for divorce from her husband, even though she knew Link would never really be hers. After the hearing she'd caught him in bed with Sheila, though neither of them knew she'd ever been around, or cared. She brokenheartedly listened to their sex reunion party for as long as she cared, then stole away into the night, hot tears burning her cheeks. He'd caused her home to be broken up, and now she couldn't even claim him. Probably no one woman ever would.
She knew that Polly and Anne saw him any time they wished or he desired them, which was quite frequent. She also knew that Ida Sparks shared his bed from time to time. And even Faye Martin dabbled with him. Yessir, old Link really kept his share of the women happy. Why couldn't he keep just one? Her....
"C'mere," Jack Lane ordered, pulling Ida into his arms.
For a moment, she deeply feared rape, walking along this dark street on this cool, early spring night. But she recognized Jack Lane just as his mouth fell on hers. She pushed him away.
"Why, Mr. Lane, I do believe you've taken leave of your senses," Ida reminded him.
"No, baby. The only thing taking leave of me will be my hot essence of love once these panties leave from around your hot cunt. Then I'm going to cut that thing down to my size, and thrill you, baby."
She was furious with him.
"Mr. Lane, if you don't let me go right this minute, I'm going to scream my head off."
"You do, and I'll tell all about last Saturday's date, almost two months ago."
She was quiet for a long moment, studying him carefully.
"What about it?" she finally asked.
"Link Caldwell and four other men, the last right in front of your door."
"You're crazy," she laughed at him.
He told her all about that night.
"Baby, you were so drunk and out, you didn't even realize that Billy Adams and his boys had a party with you that night. He screwed you in the car, after taking you home. But the whole party actually began with Link, Baby. Would you like for the whole town to know all the facts about one of its own citizens?"
Twenty dollars, and threats of a jail sentence, had induced Billy to tell Jack everything, "You know I saw you," he said.
"Yes, you seem to have seen me, and you're making it so good to me," Ida crooned to Jack.
It was later now.
"Mr. Lane," Ida smiled sexily, her hand holding his now soft prick. "How are you going to adequately service us four women?"
"Four women, my dear?" he asked innocently.
"Four women, my dear," she answered matter-of-factly. "Mildred, Debbie, Mary Shulman, and now me."
Jack was so surprised for a moment, he didn't know what to say.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Lane, I know all about it, the holes you plug. But at your age, don't you think that's a little dangerous for the heart?"
"In a way, but dying is like taxes."
"Mary killed Mr. Simpson, you know."
"How...."
"How did I know? Oh, come now, Mr. Lane. I couldn't divulge that information," she replied saucily.
"I guess you couldn't," he laughed, turning to her once more.
"What new positions can we think of, Link?" Mildred asked him, kissing his face.
"I'll leave that to your very vivid imagination, my dear. You supply the positions, and I'll supply the meat."
"Oh, darling, I simply love that. You really know how to please a love-starved woman," she laughed sexily.
"Baby, that is my sole position in life."
"And as I remember it, you're nothing short of professional."
"Now, don't make me sound all that good," he laughed.
"Baby, the applause is all yours. I could no more deny what you mean to me than deny myself a need for water."
"But it's been so long ago."
"A woman never forgets her first love, right? Also, a woman never forgets the one man that makes it so good to her, after she's been at this fucking game of years, and could grow boredly tired of it. You're a delightful refresher course, my dear."
Link prepared them both drinks. Sometimes he grew tired of this constant need to be on all the time. He sometimes wished he was just another clod, with one woman to be constantly with, and he wouldn't have to be on all the time. He deeply hated himself for hurting Ginger, after she'd made it so clear he was the only man for her. But then the lures of a fresh cunt made him realize that no one lived always, and one must live his life fully or be a dead man before he stopped breathing.
"That son-of-a-bitch is fucking everything in this town but me. Sock it to me good. Hurt me," she cried with zeal.
The same, old good cunt, he felt.
Mildred Lane rocked it to him harder and better than he knew any woman could. She possessed a deep madness about her that brought this on.
"Noah, we can go on forever," she cried, seeking his bruised, sore lips.
Unless we get caught, he felt.
His prick was rubbed raw. Between her and Lenora, he would soon be a dead man. These women were very demanding in bed. And since Cally had discovered sleeping pills, he had few free moments.
Was this the good Lord's way of punishing him for coveting Cally until he forced her to really dig it? Something must be wrong. When Lenora didn't drink herself to sleep, Cally was right there with the sleeping pills, which put her out anyway. Neither of them worried about any protection. And one day it was too late to worry about it.
But Lenora was no fool. She knew something sneaky was going on. Noah had a well-used, tired, deeply worn look about him he didn't used to have. Something about this house wouldn't allow her to stay awake any longer. Was what she'd feared for so long now taking place?
Lenora purchased a tape recorder, sneakingly setting it up in Cally's room. She set the tape at four hours, concealing the mike in some flowers. Later, she was so sleepy she couldn't stay awake, and finally just slumped over.
"Cally, darling, we must ease up a bit," Noah reminded her weakly. He was so cunt-whacked he could hardly hold both his eyes open in school anymore.
"Darling, Noah." She kissed him with a loud smack. "We don't do anything but rock out mighty thrills to each other. You can ride in between my thighs as long as you can hold up. Honey, a devil is loose in my body, and it constantly takes your prick to ease the hot fires. Every time you stroke me, darling, I go to heaven, feeling something so sweet and delicious inside my thighs. Just love me, darling."
What had he created?
There is an old saying in life about some women a man should never have. Of course, you really can't realize this until much too late.
Noah felt her arms and legs locked tightly around him, nearly squeezing the dear life out of him. He was so goddamned weak, he could hardly hold his head up.
"God, Noah, you know I haven't been on for almost two months now," she smilingly reminded him.
"Oh, God," he moaned.
"Maybe I'm not really pregnant," she teased.
"Don't joke about this," he roared harshly.
"Easy, Noah, baby...." She stroked his chin. "A woman is always proud to carry inside her belly the child of the man she loves. Why do you think I bought those sleeping pills for mother? Darling, I love you. You should be very happy about this sweet turn of events. Here you have perhaps the greatest life any American has ever lived. You're one of the few men alive that can screw thirty days a month, if you wish. Mother and I don't have our periods at the same time. So why should you worry, man? If I'm pregnant, I'll have the baby, and never tell anyone who the real father is. Some women get raped in the night, and nine months later the results are there for all to see. And you know there have been some nights that I've been out. Strangers come through this town all the time, and one of them snatched me into his car, took what he wanted, then threw me out. I didn't tell the law because I was too ashamed...."
Noah lay there, a sexual stupor capturing his senses. If he could spend just two nights a week away from her, it would be fine. But she fed those sleeping pills to Lenora any time she felt like it. Once she fed them to her three nights in a row.
"Noah, baby, it's now ten. Cally wants you to drill her twat once more, then you can go with mother...."
Her thrilling lips soon had him moaning, as his prick grew by leaps and bounds.
"God, baby, make it good to me," she cried strongly into the night, her grinding hips shaking the living life out of him.
"Make it real good for her, Noah," Lenora said, breaking in upon them two nights later.
"Mother!" Cally screamed.
"My God!" groaned Noah.
They all stared at each other silently.
"My own flesh and blood, laying up with my husband," Lenora cried bitterly.
What could they say?
"I ought to kill you, Noah." Lenora continued. "But I won't. I simply can't. Oh, I could get by with it, once the truth was known, but I don't wish for my dirty linen to be aired in this small town. So there's only one thing left for us to do. Since we've been sharing you all along, we'll keep right on. God help your worthless ass, because the rest of you belongs to us and all the fucking we want."
