The realm of sexual expression has remained one of controversy for many centuries, and undoubtedly will remain so for many more. There is no answer for the individual considering any particular form of sexual outlet, except that he must be true to himself. The mature individual who has achieved this sort of self-honesty and completeness will be little harmed or affected by the illogical or irrational opinions of others.
In this exceptionally well written novel the author has cleverly woven this truth like an unseen thread throughout the entire work. Had the characters faced up to their unusual desires instead of trying to repress them, much of the anguish they suffered would logically have been avoided.
The author does not claim this concept of opinion to be solely his own, nor a revolutionary thought. To the contrary, it has been expressed by the wisest thinkers through the ages. "This above all: to thine own self be true," was Shakespeare's way of saying the same thing; but it comes to us from still an earlier source, and one which not even the most rigid moralist can contest..."Happy is he that condemneth not himself for that which he alloweth himself. But he that doubteth is damned if he eat. " Those who deny others sexual pleasures by quoting the Scriptures would be well advised to consider this quote from Romans.
No doubt this era could be called the age of sexual enlightenment. That this ultimately will be for the benefit of all mankind is obvious merely by looking at the past and previous ages of enlightenment. But even a brief glance backwards will also reveal that, in such times, honored traditions and concepts were re-examined, and many times discarded. What was considered fact was found to be imagine. In short, the excuse that "it isn't done" or "it's shameful" will no longer suffice in denying man a specific form of pleasure.
The author has published many volumes of contemporary fiction with us. We offer no further comment, except our extreme pleasure in. presenting this timely work. We now suggest that you read it and draw your own conclusions. A work of art, no matter how contemporary, should speak for itself.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
Porterville Youth Ranch had all the outward appearances of a guest farm for kids whose parents had money. There were horses ambling about the dusty pastures, neat rows of irrigated crops, a large barn, several brick cottages sprinkled about the expansive grounds, and one large, imposing building in the center.
The name was deceptive Porterville Youth Ranch was in fact, a euphemism for the Juvenile Rehabilitation and Correction Facility of Porter County, Nevada. With a few exceptions, the kids there were from very unrich families; broken families, or no families, or those with parents who couldn't or didn't want to cope with delinquent children. Porterville Youth Ranch was an alternative to jail, or perhaps, a prelude to it...a place that most law-abiding citizens chose to call "reform school."
However, as "reform schools" go, Porterville was supposed to be a model community, and a lot of taxpayers' money had gone into its planning and construction. The concept was unique: minimal security, minimal supervision of unstructured activities. Meals came promptly at 8, 12, and 6. Ranch chores began at 6:00 AM and resumed at 4:00 PM until dinner time. Classes were held from 8:30 until noon; vocational training and craft workshops consumed three hours in the afternoons; sports were mandatory on the weekends, as was Sunday chapel. It was on Sundays that the children were allowed visitors. Discipline was implicit in the regimentation; it was explicit for infractions of the countless "No's, for violation of the honor system (only the most intractable youths were incarcerated in the big building; the majority of the "students," as they were called, were free to roam the 350 acre ranch which was electrically fenced and cross-fenced and thirty miles from the nearest town, encircled by a formidable wall of barren, granite mounttains...) and for "fraternization" (read, "sex play" of any kind between two or more people of any age or gender.)
Yes, there were women at Porterville; women nurses, teachers and housemothers. There were also female "students" between the ages of twelve and sixteen. Naturally the presence of the females taxed the ingenuity of the boy "students" who were of comparable age; most of their free moments were spent in figuring out how to get a piece of ass without the "Old Man" finding out the "Old Man" being Warden Blanchard, a tight-lipped, by-the-book sonofabitch who made damned sure nobody did anything to rock the sweet little boat he had for himself. After thirty years of riots, hunger strikes, stabbings, fires and bad food at the State pen, where he had come close to death a number of times at the hands of hardened cons, he had finally landed this cushy, political appointment babysitting a bunch of snot-nosed little bastards paradise! Six more years, just six more years, and it was the little fishing cabin in the Sierra!
* * *
Thelma Matthews felt a sudden thump on the back of her head. She turned quickly, looking over her shoulder towards the back of the room, the direction in which the flying missile had come. Richie Perrera was facing the front of the room, where Jenkins, the algebra teacher, was writing out a complicated looking equation on the blackboard. Richie's eyes, however, were slanted in Thelma's direction. He used them to motion to the object on the floor beside her desk. Carefully she reached down to pick it up, bending down imperceptibly, without taking her eyes from the teacher.
"Brooks needs a Candy Barr, his first. How about a goody for his sweet tooth? Give you some of my stash...OK, Sugar?" Thelma crumpled the note into a ball again and popped it into her mouth as Jenkins turned around.
"Are you chewing gum, Thelma?" he questioned.
"N-no sir." she blinked, swallowing the hard little wad of paper. A muffled titter circulated the room.
"Just so we know the rules." Jenkins said sarcastically.
When Jenkins turned to the blackboard again, Richie made a sign with his thumb and forefinger to the little skinny kit two seats away from him. There was a confident smirk on his face. The kid reacted with surprise and a certain anxiety. He brushed an imaginary lock from his forehead, as he always did when he was nervous. Geez, Richie was fantastic! Not that he thought his friend's scheme would work, but the guy had guts all right, setting him up for his first lay, and right under the old Man's nose!
An eternity later, the loud brass bell on the wall signaled the arrival of the 12:00 lunch hour.
Mass exodus from the classroom. Brooks caught up to the broad-shouldered, good-looking boy who was his best friend at the ranch. Opposites attract, and never more so than in this curious, Mutt-and-Jeff friendship between the little sandy-haired egghead and his Puerto Rican mentor, who was the "bad boy" of Porterville.
Richie Perrera was big for his age and much more knowledgeable about everything than most of the kids at the ranch. He had a particular mistrust deep loathing of adults in general, and of authority figures in particular. He took countless chances, proving at every opportunity that he was smarter than they were, that he was better at almost everything and Brooks had to agree it was true. Richie was a fantastic athlete, a facile talker, a charmer with women and with men, when he had to talk his way out of a rap an expert mechanic (he knew more about cars than anybody) and he could do anything with his hands, including the most sensitive drawings and water colors. His artistic ability was particularly appreciated by Miss Warner, the Arts and Crafts Rehab Teacher. In fact, Miss Warner seemed to like a lot of things about Richie, and not all of them were artistic! She was always asking him to help out on special projects. 'Course, she might have felt sorry for Richie after all, he was an orphan kid who'd been kicked around from one foster home to another, often beaten and mistreated by "parents" who didn't give a shit about him; people who only wanted to rip him off to get their dough ,from the state. No wonder he learned how to live by his wits; no wonder he grew up hiding his hurt with hate.
In some ways Richie was luckier than he was though, Brooks thought. It was probably better to have no parents than to have a mother and father who were both hopeless alcoholics...parents who probably didn't remember half the time that they had a twelve year old son, or what his name was. That's why he'd started to steal little things at first, like gum and yo-yo's and cap guns, and then, bigger things, like bicycles and B-B guns. He needed attention from somebody even if it was the cops.
"She wouldn't do it, would she?" Brooks asked his dark-haired friend. He was almost hoping for a "No."
A slow grin spread Richie's lips. "Whatsa matter? you're not scared, are you?" he teased, knowing that Brooks was scared as hell. "Has your ol compadre ever let you down yet?"
"Well, no...but, when?...where."
"Let's eat. But don't stuff your gut you're gonna get a little piece of ass for desert!"
Brooks stopped in his tracks. "Wha-at? You mean at lunch time? In...in broad daylight?"
"Yeah, well it's usually light out at noon, isn't it? Although you may find a dark corner in the art supply room."
"Man, you're crazy! I can't screw her in the art supply room!" gasped Brooks.
"Well, then, how about Blanchard's office! Come on!" the youth motioned impatiently. Brooks meekly followed him to the cafeteria.
* * *
Brooks sipped the last of his root beer, making a rude sucking sound with his straw among the melted remains of ice cubes. Then he pushed the Styrofoam cup aside, neatly squared off the textbooks on the table and brushed the non-existent lock of hair from his forehead. He looked at the big wall clock 12:20. It was time. Richie had left the cafeteria at 12:15; Thelma would appear at 12:35. That gave him fifteen minutes to get laid. Not much time, but it was enough to make him a man!
Brooks scooped up the stack of textbooks from the table and tried to look as cool as possible as he sauntered out of the noisy lunch hall. His palms were sweating, and his heart had begun to pound furiously in his narrow chest.
He still couldn't believe it was really going to happen, that after all these months, with nothing to witness his burgeoning sexuality except the stains on his bedsheets night after night, he was finally going to get his first piece. Guys talked about getting screwed all the time, and here he was, a "virgin." But Richie had fixed it up for him, and it was really going to happen. So what if it was Thelma Matthews, the whore of Porterville. Poor kid her old man was a smack head. He had her turning tricks for him when she was eleven years old to keep him in fixes. They should fry his ass for that! But Thelma was still a cute chick, with a good body, too.
Still he was so nervous he thought he'd wet his pants. Badly as he needed what Thelma could give him, he was kind of hoping that she wouldn't show.
No such luck good or bad! Brooks heard quiet whisperings as he approached the art supply room. He looked around, to make sure " there weren't any proctors around. Then he gently opened the metal door and peered inside.
Thelma was lying back on some huge foam pillows that had been used as part of an "environment" exhibit the crafts class had put together. Her skirt was so far up her thighs that Brooks could see her white panties. In spite of his nervousness, it was an alluring sight. Already he could feel his penis becoming erect in his jockey shorts.
"She's all yours." came Richie's confident voice from another corner of the half-light room.
"Hi, Bashful." Thelma teased, uncrossing her legs to give Brooks an even more exciting glimpse of her sheer panties and the little wisps of dark pussy hair that curled around the inner edges of them. Brooks felt the blood rush to his face as Thelma smiled, her eyes charting his whole body in a calculated glance.
"Why don't you come over here?" she beckoned, doing a thirteen years old's imitation of Mae West. "Matter of fact, why don't you come over here and take your clothes off? I haven't had lunch yet, you know I've got to get to the cafeteria pretty soon."
"Oh...oh, sure, Thelma. I forgot. I'm sorry." Brooks stammered.
"Cut the apologies just drop your shorts." Thelma ordered dryly. She was beginning to unbutton her blouse.
Brooks continued to blush. With trembling fingers, he fumbled with the buttons of his own shirt, feeling his cock twitch more determinedly in response to Thelma's full breasts emerging from the unbuttoned blouse. They were barely concealed under a thin, cotton bra. Soon, that too was removed, as was her skirt and half-slip, and the white nylon panties.
Brooks almost gasped aloud at the sight of her furry cunt. Then the nervous twelve year old felt obliged to avert his eyes in shame as he dropped his jeans and peeled his jockey shorts down, allowing his hard-throbbing cock to spring suddenly into lewdly shocking freedom.
"Show him what to do, Thelma." directed Richie.
"You bet I will!" the juvenile prostitute affirmed. "Commere, lover boy. Mama's got some nice, warm cupcakes for you..." she cooed seductively, cupping both hands under the heavy, upright mounds of her breasts.
It was like a dream. Brooks could hardly believe what was happening. But he needed no further invitation.
Stepping out of his shoes and jeans, leaving himself totally naked except for his white crew socks, Brooks moved forward and grabbed both of Thelma's breasts in his hands. He clumsily massaged them with his sweating fingers, then hesitantly put his head against her cleavage, brushing her flesh with the soft little bristles of his closely cropped hair. He put his salivating mouth awkwardly over the nipples, first one, and then the other feeling embarrassed at his actions. He was doing what Richie had told him to do, but he didn't feel at all sure of himself.
Then Thelma stepped back and lay down on the big pillows, pulling Brooks down with her. She parted her thighs wide, making room for him to nestle his body between her legs. Then she took hold of one of his wrists, guiding his hand down to the warm nest between her thighs; encouraging him to stroke the forbidden little slit of her pussy with his finger. To his complete surprise, the little box grew moist under his touch, which excited him even more. Then he really gasped in excited anticipation as Thelma took hold of his boyish cock, bending it downward to brush the lips of her hot little pussy.
It's really going to happen! he was thinking incredulously. He was just seconds away from becoming a man. His cock was that close to the mouth of her cunt. No longer would he be a virgin punk, the laughingstock of the other boys at the ranch. He could already feel the swelling in his chest as pride flourished within him.
Only afterward would he be able to sort out what had happened, and even then, it would be a blurred carbon of the original.
"Cheesit!" came the strangled expletive from Richie, who was standing watch at the door.
"Eeeeeeeeeek!" came the piercing little scream in his ear as Thelma squirmed out from under him.
"OHHHHH!" seconded the woman's voice. He would remember it later as Miss Warner's.
"Thud!" was the sound of his own body as he fell hard on the supply room floor. At another moment, he would remember the tickle of Thelma's pubic hair against his loins as she scrambled out from under him.
"What's going on here, Miss Warner?" thundered the Old Man's voice from down the hall.
"Oh...eh, nothing, Warden...I was...just going to get something from the supply room, but I changed my mind. It can wait."
"Really? I think not, Miss Warner!"
Brooks was still on his elbows, his bottom resting on the cold floor, looking upside down at the face behind the gravelly voice. He was crimson, from his head to his crew socks. From somewhere out of the corner of his eyes, he got a brief but perfect little glimpse of the glistening slit of Thelma's cunt and the pink pucker of her anus as she stooped to grab her sweater and panties before darting behind some large canvases to finish dressing.
"All right, you little punk, get up and get your clothes on!" the warden was growling over him like a talking Tower of Pisa. The heavyset man looked even more formidable from that perspective than he looked normally and he was not an inch less than six feet two!
Brooks grabbed for his jeans and managed to make the Guiness Book of World Records for getting-into-a-tight-pair-of-jeans-while-sitting-on-the-floor. He set another record as he got his sport shirt around his frail torso with the speed of a special cinematographic effect and stuffed the jockey shorts into a back pocket and followed Thelma, Richie, Miss Warner and the Old Man down the hall, walking into his laced up sneakers as he went.
"Hey, Holliman," a kid snickered, "Didja get laid first?"
CHAPTER TWO
The warden was addressing the four figures who stood in a semicircle on the other side of the big oak desk.
"All right, let's have it." he barked tersely.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
"Maybe a week in the meditation room will jog your memory, Perrera." The meditation room was a vicious sobriquet for solitary a six-by-six foot cell with only a hard steel bed, a small basin and a seat-less toilet. It was considered the worst punishment for severe violations of the rules. The kids couldn't bear to be locked up; alone, with no one to talk to, not even the "proctor" who, wordlessly mailed the trays of food through the shallow slot in the door.
The green-eyed, willowy blonde woman spoke up quickly: "Please, Warden Blanch-ard," she entreated, please don't do that. Richie was only standing by the door."
The warden frowned and looked at her severely. Then the faintest smirk crossed his lips. "He was only standing by the door..." he mimicked. "And who the hell you think engineered the whole disgraceful scheme? Who's behind every dirty little caper at Porterville? Huh? Let me remind you, Miss Warner: I am running a state-endorsed correctional institution for juvenile offenders not a ruddy playground for junior pimps! even if they are teacher's pets!"
Lorie Warner blanched noticeably. She was enraged at the pointed accusations, and embarrassed to the tips of her tapered fingers. She dared not look at the dark youth who was standing a few feet from her. Then she drew herself up to her full shapely, five feet, six inches and said, with feigned composure, "If you'll allow me to say so, Warden, you're being unfair to me. My concern here, as I'm sue yours is, is to correct the shocking situation that took place a few moments ago, in a manner that would be beneficial to the rehabilitation of these children. I fail to see that any benefit can accrue to any of the parties involved if Richie Perrera is made the scapegoat. The meditation room seems to me cruel and unusual punishment for this kind of crime."
"Is that so, Miss Warner?" the warden boomed. "And would you kindly tell me what, if any, other brilliant ideas you have for impeding the administration of justice in this institution?"
"Excuse me, sir," Lorie continued, "but I am just as concerned about the proper administration of justice as you are. But let the punishment fit the crime. I fail to see where the solitary incarceration of this boy would be in his interest, or would benefit these other two children."
"It would be in the best interest in the whole goddamned facility with possibly one exception, Miss Warner!" Blanchard thundered, pounding his massive fist on the table. "In fact, it would be in the best interest of everyone in the state of Nevada if this spic punk were sent to the big house! He'll get there sooner or later anyhow!"
"Then I shall be forced to write a letter of complaint to the authorities." Lorie stated firmly, trying to hide the quaver in her voice. She knew she was risking her job.
"You'll WHAT?" Blanchard echoed. He was livid, but a rivulet of fear had begun to seep into his veins.
"I will write a letter of protest to the state authorities, sir, to Justice Alvarez. And I shall tell him that I note a certain unmistakable prejudice towards this orphan boy of Puerto
Rican descent, and for that matter, towards people of all races, colors, and minorities."
She knew she had him now. Will Blanchard was a bigoted, right-wing fascist who was always using words like "nigger."
"wop."
"kyke."
"greaser" and "mick." It was a dangerous indulgence, particularly in a civil institution. Justice Alvarez happened to be Puerto Rican, too. He wouldn't take kindly to racial and ethnic slurs in Nevada's "model" youth prison.
Blanchard controlled his rage. He spoke through clenched teeth, the veins on his temples three-dimensional. "Aren't you over-stepping your bounds rather flagrantly, Miss Warner?" he ground out, piercing her to the quick with a murderous look.
"Let me put it differently, Warden Blanchard," she said quietly, attempting a soft v smile. "I'm just as shocked as you are about what happened today. But I feel certain that there is a more constructive alternative to rehabilitation than the meditation room."
"Thank you for the unwelcome opinion, Miss Warner." the old man said sarcastically. "That and twenty five cents will get you a Coke and a half. Now if you will just go back to painting your pretty pictures and leave the administration of Porterville to me, I would be ever so grateful!"
Lorie stood there for a moment, burning with anger and embarrassment.
"That's all now, Miss Warner. Do you need a motor-cycle escort to show you to your classroom?"
"No sir, I..."Lorie stammered.
"Then get the hell out of my office!" Blanchard shouted, pounding the beefy fist on the desk once more, sending the papers in the air like rectangular gymnasts flying from a trampoline.
Lorie gave a curt nod to the big man, then abruptly turned on her heel and walked into the hall, bumping into several "students" as she breezed through the door. They dispersed like a flock of chickens when a fox enters the barnyard.
CHAPTER THREE
Lorie was waiting at one end of the hall when the proctor escorted the three young people out of the warden's office. She pretended to be diagramming a large, gray wall that was to have a mural painted on it within the next few weeks. When the group passed her, she turned to search the faces for clues. Thelma shot a quick, flippant look at her, but there was fear in her eyes. Brooks managed an embarrassed, innocent little smile. Richie's face was set grimly, but his eyes flashed little icicles of contempt that sent a shiver down her spine. The proctor's face was blank and dispassionate, as per usual.
Later, at dinner, she managed to stop very briefly at the girls' table, where Thelma was sitting sullenly, toying with her food. Lorie was well aware of Richie's absence from the big dining room.
"Thelma, please tell me what happened in the warden's office after I left." she questioned the voluptuous teen.
"Oh, well, the old man gave me a month's worth of latrine duty the bastard!" she began, fighting back tears that had begun to well in the large, brown eyes. Brooks is confined to his quarters, under the proctor's watch for a week. Richie is in the box but just for tonight. Him and Brooks have to paint the cafeteria the whole damn thing! No canteen privileges, no TV, no nothin' for a week...the bastard! Lorie was shocked. "Why, Thelma, that's terrible! That's awful!" she blurted, holding her hand to her mouth in a gesture that expressed both surprise and horror.
"Yeah, well, that's how the cookie crumbles, ya know." Thelma shrugged. "I gotta go now. Miss Warner." she said hurriedly, and she got up quickly and bolted out of the cafeteria, sobbing as she ran.
Lorie stood there watching her for a moment. She was stunned. He is a bastard! she was thinking. Putting Richie in the meditation room, like that. How clever of the old man to keep him there for just one night she couldn't very well write a very detrimental report to Alvarez for that. As for the painting, that sort of punishment was a standard kind of correctional procedure at Porterville; only the dose was, as a rule, considerably smaller. " Standard, too, was the withholding of rec room and canteen privileges that in itself was considered to be a pretty rough go on the kids. During her six months at the ranch, Lorie had taken a special interest in the Puerto Rican boy. Richie Perrera was certainly the kind of kid one would notice. It was more than his extreme good looks, or his athletic body. He had a charm, a charisma that was apparent to everyone even to Blanchard. She always felt that the gruff, older man was jealous of the handsome youth, that he envied the many gifts and abilities the boy possessed that he resented bitterly the boy's countless successful maneuvers to outwit the old man and everyone else in authority at Porterville. Richie had an animal cunning, an impelling survival instinct, an excellent mind, though he tried to hide his intelligence at times, particularly when it came to school work. He had contrived to flunk several subjects that would have been a 'piece of cake' for him to pass it was another way of giving the authorities the finger; another way of frustrating the efforts of supposedly well-intentioned adults.
Regardless of the reasons, it was clear that Blanchard had it in for Richie. The two of them had a running game of psychological chess a game that each of them was determined to win.
Sure, Richie was a troublemaker. He was rowdy and vulgar at times, surly to almost everyone outside his own peer group. With them, he was a different person. He would take all sorts of chances to help a friend. He had a fierce loyalty, particularly to kids younger than himself. His word was his honor, and he never went back on his word. She admired that it took guts, and Richie was the gutsiest boy at the ranch. She admired his intelligence too. She appreciated tremendously his artistic bent, the sensitive way he rendered striking water colors; the power behind his line drawings of the human body. There was a deep sensuality that showed in those drawings Richie was a...a sexy fifteen year old.
But of course, that was ridiculous...he's only a boy! Lorie quickly dismissed the latter thoughts from her mind and went back to her cottage. She didn't sleep very well, that night. Thoughts of Blanchard, Richie and the other two children crisscrossed her mind. She kept seeing instant replays of the appalling sight she had witnessed that day: The brief eye contact with Richie as she unexpectedly walked right into him, and the momentary feel of his broad, muscular chest against her jutting breasts . . .the look of momentary interest, followed immediately by one of extreme exasperation, followed by the epithet, "Shit!"...the sight of Brooks Holliman's small white bottom sticking up in the air . . .of Thelma's widely spread legs, and arms flailing about wildly as she scrambled for cover...the birdlike shriek that came from the girl's throat...the quizzical expression on Brooks' face as he tumbled naked as a jaybird to the hard cement floor...then Blanchard's chilling inquiry spewing out of his mouth like gravel from a big machine: "What's going on here, Miss Warner!"
By the time they got to the warden's office a virtual mob of students and proctors had assembled behind them, as though Blanchard were the Pied Piper. She couldn't help overhearing their snide remarks the obscene four-letter references to what Thelma and Brooks had attempted to do; that it was about time Brooks got laid...would Richie go to the box for this one?...one slice off a cut loaf is never missed . . .et cetera, et cetera. Someone even asked if it had been Richie and the art teacher imagine! That bothered her most of all . . .Sure, she had taken a special interest in Richie, because he was so talented...but she had never, ever made the slightest kind of overture to him in a physical way; never! It hadn't even crossed her mind-not consciously. As a matter-of-fact, she felt in some ways that Richie didn't like her any better than he did any of the other staff members, and she admitted with dismay to herself that she sensed resentment vibrating from him when she had spoken up in his behalf with the old man. Still, she had felt compelled to try to be an object of trusting concern and encouragement to him God knows that was more than he ever got from most of the dozens of foster parents who had had him in their care for brief periods over the years.
Yes, she reluctantly admitted to being a lily-white liberal and why not? She was brought up by loving and concerned parents who were staunch, God-fearing people. It was her duty to help those less fortunate than herself, they taught her. She must always be "kind" to those of lesser means and advantages, particularly the pariahs of society. Lorie had taken their admonitions to heart, enrolling in a teacher's college, and then majoring in special problems of rehabilitation instruction. She wrote her master's thesis on "The Effects of Environmental Trauma on Learning in the Disadvantaged Minority Child." By that time, she had already decided that her teaching talents, her art ability and her social values could be focused best in correctional work.
Armed with a couple of sheepskins and a set of lofty ideals, Lorie began her career at a private school for "difficult" children. It didn't purge her of the guilt, however, and after four years of misplaced do-gooding, she applied for a position at Porterville, the revolutionary reform school in the harsh Nevada mountain-and-cactus country.
She was thirty years old now, though she looked a good five years younger. She was thirty a very attractive...spinster! The word caused her to shudder. Oh, there had been men...she was even engaged once, in college, but she couldn't take marriage seriously then. Later there had been dates with several other guys, but nobody she could get very interested in for very long. She had her career, her work, and that took precedence. There would be time, later, she rationalized. But she was in no position to meet a number of men at the school, and here, at Porterville, well there just didn't seem to be anyone who struck her imagine. Most of the proctors were married couples, and those men who weren't were the dreariest kinds of creeps...especially Will Blanchard. He had never married in his 59 years, probably didn't want to subject a wife and children to the threat of being made a widow with fatherless kids. At any rate, Blanchard was, she suspected, a dirty old man, a real letch under that gruff and correct facade. She had seen him eyeing little Thelma Matthews more than once. In fact, she caught him appraising her own body when she was bending over the water fountain to get a drink.
No...there just weren't any men to interest her at Porterville. There was only this kid, Richie Perrera! Unconsciously she looked down at her long, graceful thighs. She crossed her legs quickly. Then she noted the swelling mounds of her breasts under the light blanket that covered a thin cotton gown. Self-consciously she pulled the covers up around her neck and snapped off the light.
* * *
Lorie was surprised to see Richie in the art room with the other students the following afternoon. Her heart beat faster when she saw the shock of thick, dark curls inclined over a large drawing pad. During the workshop, she quietly asked him if he would stay a moment after class, to help her move some of the large canvases in the supply and storage room. For an instant, the boy looked at her coldly, strangely. Then his lids lowered and his focus dropped to the inviting globes of flesh beneath her light sweater. The germ of a sly smile crossed his lips.
"Sure." he shrugged insouciantly.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lorie answered one of the student's questions about secondary color values as she made her way over to the big, metal sink to wash out some brushes. But she wasn't thinking about colors, or paint brushes. She was thinking about the good looking boy with the thick, black curls who was still drawing intently at one of the work tables.
Yes, she thought, Richie was certainly an attractive kid. She did not doubt that the old man had been right in assuming that Richie was behind the shocking scenario that took place in the storage room yesterday. Easy as Thelma was, she probably wouldn't have risked being caught like that if there hadn't been something more enticing in it than the shy Holliman kid's pecker! Lorie knew that Thelma was a passionate devotee of drugs particularly anything that could be smoked. Richie probably had promised to supply her with some of his dope. Where he got the stuff, Lorie couldn't imagine, but she knew there was some around.
For all her thirty years,""" she was terribly naive...gullible, in fact. There was an awful lot she simply didn't "see" maybe because she couldn't bear to.
In spite of her own shock at stumbling upon the lurid farce., in spite of her embarrassment and righteous indignation, she had to giggle inwardly at the sight of the gawky youngster trying desperately to pull his jeans on in the humbling shadow of Warden Blanchard's stance above him. Even if she didn't approve of what the two kids were doing, she had to agree that it was a perfectly natural outgrowth of a young boy's need to experiment sexually. Goodness knows, she had never done anything of the kind as a sheltered teenager herself...in fact, she had always found it difficult to confront sexual situations, though she had, as an adult. But she could never come to terms with it emotionally. Perhaps that was the real reason why she had never dated seriously after that innocent engagement in college...perhaps that was the reason Richie Perrera bothered her so much...
She was certain that he looked upon sex not merely as a natural, biological function, but as an animalistic ritual as well. She'd caught snatches of whispered remarks about his carryings on at Porterville and elsewhere; not just with Thelma, but with some of the older teenage girls. He was even supposed to have seduced one of the housemothers, a married woman! Both she and her husband were summarily dismissed from Porterville.
She had also gathered that Richie not only looked on sex as dirty, but relished it because of that. Here was a challenge: to help this misguided boy see intercourse, and male-female relations in general as a wholesome exchange between two people, a source of affection and caring, rather than just a ceremony to achieve self-gratification her intervention and the verbal abuse she might have to suffer from him for a while would all be worth her efforts. Here was an opportunity to influence this unfortunate boy's perspective in a constructive way...
"Ahhhhhh!" she gasped as a firm, young body grazed the mounds of her buttocks. She turned quickly. Richie's face was only inches from her own. "You want me to help you now?" he asked, a teasing smile fluttering about his sensuous lips.
"Oh...well, yes, Richie. The two biggest canvases...you'll see them in the other room." she sputtered. The blood had rushed to her face, and there were little currents, strange electrical ones, running through her veins. "I'll be there in a minute."
She wiped the brushes and placed them on paper towels to dry, wiping her hands on her loose, paint-stained smock as she made her way to the storage room. She didn't know what she would say, or how she would say it, but she had to talk to him, had to try to help him. Really, she needed some reassurance that he forgave her for intervening the way she did. Somehow, she desperately needed to reach him, though she kidded herself that her motivation was purely altruistic; was purely for his benefit, and not her own.
"These the ones you mean, Miss Warner?" Richie asked indifferently.
"Yes, those two, and the two opposite them. Let me help." replied the nervous woman. She reached up high for the top corner edge of the first canvas. It was reinforced with wood strips, and it was heavy. Richie slid his arm up along side hers, near her hand. It was an easy reach for him, he was fairly tall. She noticed the muscles rippling on his strong forearms as he reached up. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her bare neck. She tried very hard not to breathe faster.
"Richie...I...please, Richie," she implored.
"Please what, Miss Warner. She could feel his eyes roving over her figure, penetrating the back of her head. But he didn't move away.
"I wanted to thank you for trying to help me, Miss Warner." ' His tone was faintly derisive, she thought. But she couldn't be sure. Richie was also a very clever actor.
"It's nothing...nothing, really. I just wanted to make you feel that...that there is some adult person who cares what happens to you...someone who doesn't want you to be hurt anymore than you already have been in life."
"That's very noble, Miss Warner. It really is." Richie responded with impressive sincerity in his voice. "But you really shouldn't bother yourself about...a rotten punk like me. Blanchard's right I'm no damned good!" And he let his head fall abjectly to his chest. Barrymore couldn't have done it better.
Lorie whirled around and grabbed him by his powerful shoulders. Her eyes were blazing with the light of a cause well embraced.
"No! No, Richie! You must never, ever say that about yourself again...ever! That's not true! You have so many fine qualities your artistic talents, your keen mind, your courage...all those things and more. You're a wonderful person, Richie. You just have been kicked around a lot, and so you don't trust anyone who isn't your own age. But I have to make you understand that there are some trustworthy adults in the world...people who care very much...some adults who trust in you, too! And I happen to be one of them, though I may not have shown it as I should have."
He studied her intently for a moment. Then he slowly spoke, "Do you really mean it, Miss Warner? Do you really trust me?" he blinked incredulously.
"Of course I do, Richie," she reassured. "I've always taken special interest in you."
"I've always taken a special interest in you too, Miss Warner." he said cryptically.
A shudder racked her torso. "I didn't mean it like that! she stammered.
"Like what, Miss Warner?"
She couldn't bring herself to say what she obviously the object of his remark. "You know..."she managed, and then, "as I said, I care what happens to you. I want you to trust me. I want you to know there is someone older you can trust."
"I never thought of it in those terms; like you being older than me. I just think of you as a woman, the same way I think of twelve-year old girls some of them as women."
Lorie was stunned, but only for a moment. Then her body stiffened as the darkly handsome youth leaned toward her, planting his lips on her mouth in a calculated kiss, then snaking angrily into her mouth with his tongue, while his educated hands slid up under the smock and perused the lines of her body. Then he crushed her to his broad chest in a passionate embrace.
She was acutely aware of a blunt knot of hard, throbbing flesh against her lower belly. She was trying to say something while his tongue burrowed greedily into her mouth; she was trying to beat him back with her fists, but she was locked in his viselike clutches.
Finally he released her, as quickly as he had made his first advance. It all happened so fast, caught her so off-guard that she barely could believe what was happening.
"Richie!" she scolded, glaring up at him with rage, shock and visible excitement.
"Whatsa matter, Teach? Doesn't my interest, interest you?" he queried mockingly. She thought she had never seen a more sullen, contemptuous look in anybody's eyes. He was making fun of her. He was cheapening her, treading on her good intentions. She reacted spontaneously.
Whap! The sound of her palm striking his warm cheek reverberated in her ears like the after echo of a pistol crack. She saw the crimson imprint of her hand on his light olive skin, and it both shocked and upset her. But Richie's face was an inscrutable mask. There was not the faintest twitch, the slightest grimace of any kind. Only his eyes showed emotion they were deep pools of bitter gall. Tears welled in the art teacher's eyes, blurring her vision of him as he quietly turned and walked out of the room.
CHAPTER FIVE
The big wall clock in the cafeteria said 4:00. Brooks stood on the scaffolding, looking at the endless light gray surface that lay, like the Great Wall of China, before him. He was a pint-sized Stan Loral, in his over large white paint shirt and pants. Next to him stood the big, galvanized bucket full of cream colored liquid. He held the four-inch brush in his small hand; he could already feel the cramping sensation in his fingers. He was just about to dip the brush into the bucket when a voice boomed over the intercom:
"This is the warden speaking. Holliman, report in."
"Here, sir."
"Perrera, report in." Silence. "He'll be right here, sir . He had to go to the..."
". . . Had to take a leak sir." Richie shouted into the intercom as he ascended the scaffolding.
"Hop to it, Perrera, you smart-ass spic!" the old man thundered.
"Man, have I got something to tell you!" Perrera whispered to his shy friend. "Shut your face up, Perrera! I'm gonna keep this intercom on for the next two hours. One word between you two little punks and I'll slap you into the box again, Perrera. Got that?"
"Yes, sir," Richie replied sullenly, punching the "sir" with a verbal right hook. It was right out of 1984, he thought the intercom, with Big Brother at the controls, Geezus!
"All right. Now get those paint brushes going, and do a good job I'd hate to see you have to do it over, boys!"
The two youths exchanged a knowing glance that said, "Like hell you would, you dirty old bastard!" and dipped their brushes silently into the two buckets of paint.
Brooks was struggling with his paint brush, laying the dripping liquid on the walls as best he could when he suddenly looked up to see his friend writing something in the fresh paint with the tip of his index finger. Brooks nearly fell off the scaffolding. Neatly written, in fingerprinted News Gothic Condensed, were the words: "I'm going to screw Miss Warner. "
Lorie Warner glanced nervously at the clock on the wall. She made a few idle strokes on a sheet of sketching paper, then hastily crumpled it up and threw it in the wastebasket. She buried her face in her arms.
She couldn't remember feeling so terrible. She could just kill herself for her disgusting performance in the supply room. Not that she had any illusions about what Richie Perrera had in mind when he kissed her that way--it was most flagrant and, obvious sort of advance. She had no doubt that if she had allowed him, Richie would have pushed it all the way to its most obvious and perverted conclusion--he would have made love to her if she had let him.
So much for Richie. But what about her own hysterical response? She was a mature woman. She knew the facts of life, even if she had never been able to comfortably handle her sexual relationships with men, or rather, her responses to them. But Richie was just a boy--albeit a boy with a man's body--she should have been able to handle his advances. Why had she comported herself so stupidly with him? Why had she allowed him to touch her at all? She could have engendered the youth's respect for her with a simple but straight forward "No." Instead, she had reacted like a silly schoolgirl out on a first date, right down to the face slap! Her childish behavior could only alienate Richie further...it would confirm his mistrust of adults.
"Damn!" she muttered to the sketch pad beneath her lips. Any communication she might try to establish with Richie now would be all the more suspicions in his eyes; it would be all the more strained. How could she bear to face him again? But she had no choice except to face him. He would be coming to the workshop again tomorrow afternoon. She would encounter him in the cafeteria at meal times. She would see him on the grounds. He had nowhere else to go, and neither did she. They were both prisoners at Porterville; he by directive, she by choice. Difficult as it would be, she had to try to set things right once and for all. If she didn't, she would never forgive herself--and neither would Richie forgive her.
That's why she had ever so casually arranged to pass him in the cafeteria line at dinner, whispering her terse request as she reached for a salad: "Please come to the art room when you finish dinner." He hadn't even given her the slightest nod of acknowledgement. Perhaps he wouldn't show at all. Moments later, her question was answered by the soft sound of a doorknob being gently turned. She stiffened like a frightened animal. Then, the handsome Puerto Rican youth tiptoed into the room.
Lorie caught her breath, unable to keep from recalling the little threads of forbidden pleasure that unraveled in her body when he had kissed her and felt her breasts. Now, the sight of him arrogantly strolling towards her, hands in his back pockets, made her stomach flutter nervously. She thought he had grown three inches in a few hours. There were paint spots dappling his hands and bare arms. Flecks of the cream colored enamel highlighted his glossy, black hair. She hadn't the slightest idea what to say to him.
"Did anyone see you come in?" she blurted out. (That didn't sound right at all!)
"I don't think so, Miss Warner." he replied slowly, a faint smirk playing about his wide mouth.
"I mean, I don't want you to get in trouble again...because of me. Maybe, maybe you should lock the door."
"I did, Miss Warner." The smirk broadened. The way Richie looked at her made a chill run down her spine. Again, she realized, he had the wrong idea about why she had asked to see him.
"Richie, I hope I can make you realize why I wanted to see you at this hour." she bungled again.
"Sure. I think you've made me realize why you wanted to see me now, Miss Warner." he said, letting his eyes rest upon the obvious swell of her breasts, feasting greedily, in fact, upon the full molded protuberances. She swallowed hard.
"Richie...please don't look at me that way." she begged.
"Why not? You like it. You liked it when I kissed you. You liked it when I felt you up." he said matter-of-factly.
"No!" Lorie objected, almost too quickly. She detected the lack of conviction as her own voice registered in her ears. She knew it was obvious to Richie, too.
"Alright..." she admitted grudgingly, looking downward, "maybe...I did."
As soon as she had said it, she knew it was a foolish admission on her part. It would only encourage him to press his advantage further. Her only hope was to summon every ounce of control and maturity she had.
Quickly she got up from the desk and walked towards some long work tables on the other side of the room. Anything to get out from under his penetrating stare, his confident smirk, his compelling...sexuality!
But he grabbed her in a trice, and hungrily clutched her trim body to his, hungrily massaged his lips against hers, hungrily searched her mouth for contact with his tongue. Her body went limp. She had to exert every ounce of self-control to keep her arms at her sides.
Appearing unresponsive was the greatest challenge she faced at that moment. She closed her eyes, trying to force shut a door in her mind that would close off the rampant and incalculable need that fanned the long-banked generator, charged to the extremities with an electric titillation that she had not felt in such a long time--if ever. Lorie Warner knew that she was dangerously vulnerable with this hot-blooded youth near her.
Suddenly Richie loosened his hold on the art teacher's curvaceous body and took a step backwards. His look pierced her like an arrow. She was trembling so much she could hardly speak.
"Richie, please," she said quiveringly, "please believe me. I didn't call you here for this."
A familiar cynical and arrogant smile etched itself slowly on the youngster's lips. "Believe you I don't, teach. You think I don't know why you stuck your nose into that business with the old man? You must think I'm just a big, dumb kid!"
"Oh no!" she gasped. "I didn't speak up for you because I wanted something from you!" She was beginning to feel sick inside. "And as for your being a dumb kid, Why..."
"Nobody ever does anything for anybody unless they want something in return. It wasn't out of the kindness of your "heart" but because of the need somewhere further down, Miss Warner!"
"Richie! How dare you speak to me like that!"
"Don't give me that preacher-in-the-pulpit shit, Miss Warner. Underneath that lily-white exterior, beneath all those "good intentions" is a woman who needs to get laid about as bad as anyone I ever saw. I've seen it in those big green, innocent looking eyes of yours every time you've looked at me. It's been pretty obvious for a long time!"
"Oh no! No! You're wrong, Richie, you're wrong!" she sobbed into her hands. She felt like a little girl being reproached by her angry father. Could he be right? Had she really looked at him as a potential lover? It was too shameful to ponder. She had never been so put down, so humiliated--particularly by someone whom she cared about so genuinely; someone who was only half her age!
His hands were warm, gentle, reassuring as he took her by the shoulders and drew her close to him. For a moment he just held her that way; it was his apology for having talked to her so brutally. Then he began to stroke the hair at the back of her neck very lightly, causing her to shudder noticeably. Then she felt his lips on the sensitive skin of her throat. Then he purposefully took her hands away from her face and tilted her chin upwards. The boy kissed her softly at first, then with greater intensity. She melted under his lips. She moaned as his hands moved to the turgid mounds of her ripe breasts and massaged them into tingling melons aching to be plucked and eaten. He forced a thigh against her moist groin and ground his swollen young cock into her pussy mound. She pulled back, attempting to resist his army of one, but he was there more urgently than before. She couldn't deny the thrilling surges of pleasure that coursed through her. Her need, her longings were evident now to her, as they apparently had been to him for quite some time.
Deftly he eased the sweater up and unhooked the constricting brassiere, freeing her longing breasts from their harness and exposing them to his hungering gaze. Moaning in half-hearted protest, Lorie looked down in stunned disbelief at the humiliating sight of her naked and voluptuous breasts and the boy's tongue extended towards them.
Somehow, someway, she had to get a grip on herself! It was all happening to--the lust she had so long repressed, her desire for this handsome teenager--it was too apparent now. His arrogant and pointed accusation had been keenly on target.
Richie took her hand and led her towards the art supply room. She balked. "Come on, Miss Warner," he encouraged, "You know you want it. You want it as much as I do."
The pretty older woman shook her head in a vain effort to negate his accusation. But quickly he bent his head again and licked hungrily at her turgid nipples, weakening her resolve. Now she knew for certain that she did, indeed, want him. She even conceded to herself that her desire must have been an unconscious factor in her support of him when they were in Blanchard's office.
Richie was moving backwards, drawing her with him in a kind of slow dance. She let her hands move up his back, up his muscular neck to his soft, curly hair as she held his head against her bosom. She was forgetting who she was, and where she was, lost in the delirium of sexual excitement as she continued to let the mature youngster lap and suck the highly sensitized breasts. He continued to inch towards the supply room as she laved the trembling mounds and eagerly caressed the firm half-moons of her buttocks, hugging her loins against his rigidly erect cock and bumping her pubic shelf with forceful persuasiveness.
A bastard offspring of sanity suddenly knocked at the door of her consciousness. With a mewling whimper of frustration, she pushed Richie away.
The expression in her eyes was one of pleading supplication and apology thinly veiling desire. The expression in the brown eyes that blazed back at her was one of disgust, frustration and derision.
"You're a prick tease, aren't you, Miss Warner?" the boy shot at her through tight lips. The words were 38-caliber bullets right through the heart. "You're just a prick tease, as well as a hypocrite!"
This was too much. The word "hypocrite" was even harder to take than his reference to her sexual flirtatiousness. She had to prove to him that she was neither of those things. But how? She had made a royal mess of things, alright. Yes, by letting herself succumb to desire, she had really let him on, had encouraged his advances. She had to repair the damage, somehow.
Her legs went weak from the obscenely shocking idea that suddenly popped into her head. It was to absurd, too perverted for words, yet by its very perverted nature, it assumed a strangely positive character. The idea also tapped a well-buried masochistic bent in Lorie that she hadn't acknowledged before. What better way to win his allegiance than to prove her good intentions by giving him the pleasure he wanted and denying herself the same excursion into the forbidden valleys of lustful satisfaction?
"Yeah," he was repeating, "you're just a simpering prick tease--not a real woman, like
I thought you were. You're not only as bad as the old man, you're worse. At least he doesn't try to hide his hate for me!"
"Alright," she said softly with an air of resignation, "I'm going to do something for you. I'm going to do it to prove that at least part of what you said is false--I'm not a...a prick tease, as you say, and I have no intention of leading you on." Fingers of masochistic pleasure prodded at her loins as she visualized the "sacrifice" she was about to make. "Just promise me you'll never, ever tell anybody."
"Tell them what?" he questioned suspiciously.
Lorie hesitated, letting her gaze fall to the telltale bulge in Richie's pants. She could see that he was terribly excited, and she knew that, above all the other moral considerations, she had no right to leave him with aching frustration. Still, it took every ounce of courage she had to make her next statement.
"Promise me you won't tell anyone."
"I promise I won't tell anybody."
"I'm...I'm going to suck you."
Richie let a flicker of surprise cross his face, then he quickly became poised again. He said nothing, but inwardly he was thinking of the punch line of that old joke: "Gee, you really are a good sport!"...Miss Warner.
He let her lead him into the supply room as though he were a reluctant little boy about to get a spanking. She motioned towards the pillows
--the same pillows Thelma had used in her abortive attempt to make a man of Brooks Holliman. The thought of Richie's bare body on the same surface where the girl had lain filled her with a momentary twinge of jealousy. "Lie down." she ordered gently.
Lorie was amazed at herself. She had never submitted willingly to oral sex in her life. Several times during her engagement her fiancé had pushed her head into his loins during moments of frenzied passion. She submitted, but always with some reluctance and distaste.
Now she found herself suddenly longing to perform the act she had previously abhorred. She wanted desperately to suck Richie's cock. Moreover, she wanted to rid his mind of every doubt about her...to free him from the suspicions he had about her intentions, her sincerity. The debasing act of sucking his cock was the most perfect way she could think of to do so.
Almost delirious with her own rising want, Lorie watched through glassy eyes as Richie stretched out on his back, propped against the plump pillows. His look was eager, expectant, and still somewhat derisive. He was daring her to go through with the obscene thing she'd proposed to him. As she kneeled before him on the floor, Lorie was almost overwhelmed by the force of her own depraved desire. What had begun as an outlandish but pragmatic plan to convince the rebellious youth of her sincerity had grown into overriding lust--lust given impetus by the unspeakable and forbidden nature of satisfying the boy. He had been right
--nobody does anything for anyone for nothing. She was giving him something of herself that was to be a meaningful sacrifice of her pride, true...but she could not deny that she would also derive considerable pleasure from the act of satisfying this handsome and defiant youth who lay submissively before her.
Sighing softly, she put a trembling hand to the zipper of his pants, then reached inside his fly.
Richie's hips jerked in sudden excitement as she closed her fingers around the throbbing shaft of his rock-hard young penis. It swelled considerably in her hand as she worked it free of the fly, allowing it to appear before her eyes in all it pulsating splendor.
Lorie bent the throbbing cock slowly backward, tugging gently at the foreskin and drawing it teasingly up and down the engorged shaft. She continued the rhythms stroking for several moments, moaning softly as she stroked the young cock. Then, as Richie groaned and writhed beside her, Lorie slowly slackened her up and down motions, finally holding the lust-inflamed cock towards her mouth. She was licking her lips.
In a momentary flash of reason, she realized that she was courting disaster, that there was no reason whatsoever to believe that once she had sucked the teenager's cock, he would honor his promise to keep it a secret. But she also realized that if she questioned his trustworthiness now, she would forever alienate him form her, and might do him irreparable emotional and psychological damage as well. Besides, she had made a promise too. If she reneged on her word she couldn't expect him to believe anything else she ever said.
It was too late now to back out! As mad, as perverted as it might be, she had to suck him off, regardless of the consequences to her.
Richie's cock head shone with a tiny droplet of seminal fluid that had seeped from the minute slit at its tip. The art teacher and vocational rehabilitation counselor turned cock sucker flicked her pink tongue out enticingly and licked the droplet into her mouth.
"Yes...that's it. Suck it, Miss Warner. Suck my cock!" the lad admonished her. His blunt plea excited her more. Gingerly she circled the head of his cock with her tongue, as the youngster's moans grew louder and his hips began to gyrate wildly in response to the arousing sensation.
Again her tongue darted wetly into the tiny crevice of his glans, tasting the tangy fluid which was an aphrodisiac to her. Then her hand slipped softly to the base of the hotly pulsing shaft as she continued to lick teasingly at the purple head.
With a sudden aggressive motion, he thrust his fingers into her blonde, wavy hair and pulled her head further onto his prick. The adult woman made a muffled cry of protest, but readily allowed the invader to graze the back of the throat. It almost choked her, but she derived a wanton and masochistic pleasure from the boy's sudden display of aggression. Purring softly around the throbbing shaft, she began to suck his hot member with creative determination.
Richie's hips quivered against the pliant folds of the foam pillows as Miss Warner's warm, wet lips caressed the fleshy shaft. He groaned and shoved his hips upward, ramming his hard-on deeper into her mouth.
Again and again the heated projectile plunged in and out of the teacher's mouth as the youth bucked excitedly. She met him half way, working her mouth up and down his poker-hot shaft in wanton response to his thrusting movements.
Now Lorie was beginning to shed her burdensome inhibitions emboldened by a passion such as she had never known before, she sucked the boy's cock with savage abandon, making gurgling sounds and breathing excitedly to fan the flame in his sensate organ. She was sucking ravenously, a thirst for his bittersweet semen. She knew it was beginning to well-up in the taut, furry testicles.
"Ahhhh! Yes...that's the way. Suck it like that." he was calling to her. He clenched her scalp with the tips of his fingers and drew her head even further down on his distended prick. His pleasure was heightened by the total subjugation of the older woman, the "Authority figure" who was slavishly stropping his young cock with her tongue.
"Yemmmmmmm," Lorie gurgled, yielding masochistically to the rampaging desires in her own body and the youth's flagrant sensuality. Faster and faster she sucked on the delicious young hardness, her body swaying under the impact of uncontrolled desire and oral pleasure.
Momentarily, she again realized the sheer madness of what she was doing. It was an open invitation to humiliation and disaster. It could even cost her, her job, if anyone ever found out. But at that instant, it didn't matter. All that mattered was the handsome boy she was so obviously gratifying, and the intense excitement and pleasure that were so foreign to her. She couldn't remember ever being this excited. Her whole body cried out with newly unleashed passion, and she longed for the cum that would soon spew forth into her eager mouth.
She hadn't long to wait. Richie moaned again, and then his athletic body stiffened. He was about to come, and from the tightening grip of his fingers on her scalp, she knew he was determined to shoot off into her mouth.
Yes! Yes! Fill my mouth, my sweet boy! I want to taste you! she communicated wordlessly to him by intensifying her lewd sucking and the eager swirling of her tongue around his vigorously roiling shaft.
"Ahhuuunnnghh!" he groaned as the first spurt of hot seminal fluid issued from his delivering cock.
Lorie gulped as she swallowed every bit of the life-giving fluid that spattered against the back of her throat. She groaned and cooed submissively, displaying a lustful fervor that witnessed conclusively her capitulation to her junior partner, compounding her masochistic degradation.
Richie continued to groan and writhe for some time, gripping her head with his hands as he shot the last drops of his desire-heated young cum into the teacher's mouth. Then he released her from his imprisoning grasp and gave a little sign of expended sexual energy.
Lorie licked every last drop from his shrinking shaft before she let it drop reluctantly from her lips. She looked at him, not knowing whether to smile or act contrite. Mainly, she was both embarrassed and highly excited. She wanted to avert his eyes.
Richie gave her one of his irresistible smiles. "Wow, Teach! Just give me a minute to get it up again. Then I'LL FIND ANOTHER NEED AND FILL IT--as Henry Kaiser said. He has it painted on the sides of those pink cement mixers. Ever see'm?"
Lorie turned away, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Then she looked back at him, her body quivering with unfulfilled longing. She shook her head.
"You'd better go now." she said firmly. "They'll be looking for you. It's almost curfew time for you."
"Huh? But..."
"I did what I did to make a point. I'm not a prick tease--I think you know that now.
And I'm not out to use you for my own selfish ends. I'm not going to let you satisfy me now, even though I might want to. This was all for you, believe me...Now please go quickly."
She rose to her feet and took a few steps away from him, sliding the brassiere straps over her shoulders then awkwardly hooking it together in back of her. She didn't want him to see the tears that were welling in her eyes. She heard him zip his fly, unlock the door quietly, then pause, before walking out into the hall. She didn't see the triumphant grin on his face as he left the art supply room.
CHAPTER SIX
Lorie Warner placed the glass on the bedside table, slipped off the short, cotton nightie and climbed into bed for the third time. She reached for the glass and took a long swallow, shuddering as she drank. She had laced the milk with a full jigger of Scotch, her one concession to immorality. Not that she drank much, but she had found, over the years, that a drink from time to time did relax, particularly during those sleepless nights that plagued her so frequently. Tonight was no exception. She had fought the temptation to drink, but after three hours of tossing and turning, after one attempt at reading and a few boring games of solitaire, she finally succumbed to the soothing amber pacifier.
She felt somewhat better as the liquid receded in the glass, and she lay back against the pillows, staring at the blank, green ceiling in her one-room cottage.
The thin, white sheet lay, like a blanket of snow, over the rounded contours of her flesh. Inwardly, she still burned with the feverish desire that had been so obscenely unleashed just hours before, when she had committed that unspeakable act of perversion with Ritchie.
The pretty blonde woman could remember nothing in her life as exciting as the boy's spirited orgasm, when he had filled her mouth with all that tangy-tasting, hot cum. He had used her lips and tongue ruthlessly to sate his eager young lust; he'd shot his entire load into her welcoming throat. What's more, she had swallowed it unhesitatingly, every last drop. She'd sucked the fire out of his rigidly throbbing penis, and left him limp and sated before her. In exchange, she'd gotten nothing but the masochistic pleasure of subservient submission.
A slight, sardonic smile crossed her lips as she recalled her vow to deny herself while giving the youth his own unconditional satisfaction. It had seemed very noble at the time, but it struck her now with bitter irony. It hadn't occurred to her that, once his desire had been sated, her own punishment would be in its unimagined horror. Through the long hours of the evening, as she struggled to occupy her mind and her hands with constructive things, her lust had gnawed at her mercilessly. It was gnawing at her now, demanding attention, shouting for some kind of satisfaction, regardless of the means.
Her eyes sketched the outline of her body under the thin sheet. The rose-tipped nipples showed through as faint, pink stains. Her girlish waist was a slender vase. The light-brown pussy hair, a darkly delineated wedge between her parted thighs.
She yielded to the temptation to let her hand slide to the half-exposed swells of her breasts. Her fingers circled the pert nipples over the fabric of the sheet, causing them to tingle into rigidity. She sighed and squirmed, warming the mattress sheet with the friction of her naked buttocks. Without conscious thought, she let her hand venture under the top sheet and massage the bare, attentive breasts some more. Then she moved the hand downwards, over the warm, sensuous flesh of her belly and into the little crater of her navel. Her own touch prompted little tremors of forbidden delight to course through her, which encouraged her, then, to send a lone scout into the jungle of hair between her thighs.
Suddenly she stiffened from the electric contact of her finger on the already distended little bud of her clitoris, and she realized with horror what she had been subconsciously contemplating though she couldn't bring herself to name it.
Lorie sucked in her breath hoarsely, as an unwelcome spasm of longing emanated from the palpitating nipple nestled at the top of her pussy and ran, like a mouse in a maze, over her lust-wracked body. She continued to tweak and massage the little pussy nipple, teasing herself about the thing she wanted but didn't want to do.
With another sigh, she closed her eyes and pushed her finger down the slippery little slide between the curl-fringed lips and into the tight, wet mouth of her cunt.
Then her eyes flew open and she froze with shock as she mentally confronted herself with the obscene act she was about to commit. Fingerfucking herself! It was unimaginably perverted for a mature woman like herself. She hadn't done such a thing since she was in her teens! but what else was there? She had to have some kind of relief, or else she'd lose her mind. At least this self-manipulation, however depraved, might satisfy her forbidden hunger enough to keep her from succumbing to the next inevitable temptation she would have to face with Richie.
Once again, she sighed as she parted the fringe of pubic hair. More heated sounds issued from her throat as her fingers spread the moisture up and down the tingling slit and began to dart in and out of her pulsating vaginal orifice. She arched upwards, kicking off the top sheet, so that she lay completely naked in her own sight. With her thumb, she began to massage the little mound of her clitoris, while she continued to worm her finger around up inside the warmly throbbing walls of her cunt with her middle finger until she could do nothing but surrender completely to her urgent need, writhing and undulating on the bed lewdly as she finger-fucked herself faster and faster.
Her eyes were tightly closed, her teeth gritted from the strain as she began to thrash her body in wild contortions of uncontrolled passion. Grunts of salacious pleasure spewed from her lips as her fingers stroked in and out of the tightly trembling vaginal opening, her thumb working with maddening effort on the staunch little clitoris. Her face was shining with perspiration, taut with the tension of increasing sexual desire, flushed with the fever of lust. Deeper and deeper, faster and faster, went the worm of her finger into the forbidden recesses of her cunt.
She tossed her head wildly back and forth, her neat blonde waves matting with the friction of her head thrashing against the mattress as she intensified her finger-fucking rhythm. Then she raised her head to look between the heaving swells of her breasts at the obscenely perverted sight of her own fingers hungrily attempting to satisfy her desire-filled pussy.
Lorie could hardly believe her wanton response to the obscene manipulation of her own fingers in her loins. Her body squirmed and tossed in feverish contortions, and she couldn't deny the perverse thrill she felt at the sight. The very depravity of her act excited her, and she was determined to obtain her release from the devastating want that consumed her no matter what humiliating act she might have to commit upon her helplessly aroused body to obtain it.
Her loins were thrust eagerly upward, meeting the probing middle finger as it fucked wetly, slickly up into her hotly flowering vaginal depths. The continued maddening caresses of her thumb over the violated nipple of her clitoris almost drove her insane with passion. Reality drifted into fantasy, and her finger became Richie Perrera's stiff young cock invading her cunt.
Suddenly Lorie's whole body tensed. She shuddered, jerked and quivered to the staccato rhythm of her tireless finger, moaning deliriously and perspiring freely. In a sudden whiplash movement, her legs scissored tightly together, grasping the finger that fucked her passion-wracked pussy. A moment later, she felt the rising tide of an orgasm well deep in her loins.
A spontaneous contortion jolted her voluptuous flesh as the release she had strained for was imminent. The salacious promise welled even more in her belly, and she moaned aloud in wanton delirium, drawing her finger completely out of her vagina and concentrating all her frenzied efforts on the throbbing hut of her clitoris.
Then she shoved her finger savagely back into the small, wet cunt hole. Her breasts were atingle with pleasurable sensations; her naked buttocks smacked the mattress with desperate determination as she remained a moment longer in the purgatory of unfulfilled lust.
Then...at last...it began: a deep trembling that erupted in the hot, volcanic crater of her cunt and surfaced to her loins, then flowed through every nerve in her fiercely quaking body. She heard herself crying, "Richie, Richie..." as she continued her frantic finger-fucking, wallowing in the depraved bliss of her self-induced orgasmic upheaval.
A seeming eternity later, Lorie let her buttocks relax against the mattress. Her head dropped heavily to the pillow and she lay there, gasping for breath. Reluctantly she withdrew her wet, sticky finger from her vagina and reached down to draw the sheet up tightly around her body. She was still flushed with the warm aftershocks of her holocaustic orgasm and she couldn't resist the temptation to gently stroke the lust-swollen mounds of her breasts, smearing softly the warm, wet remains of her arousal juices over the hardened tips of her nipples. Her eyes closed, and for a few uncountable seconds, she drifted on a twilight tide of half-consciousness.
Then she opened her eyes and stared around the dimly lighted room. Nothing had been solved, she despaired. True, her lust had been sated for a while, but in obtaining that perverted release, she had only brought her urgent desires into sharper focus. Painfully, she acknowledged that she wanted to be fucked by the handsome Puerto Rican youth whose penis she had sucked to fulfillment. She had to admit to herself now that he was right he had been right about her all along. She had desired him for a long while...perhaps from the first encounter, but she had repressed that desire into an unconscious corner of her mind. She had to admit, too, that, at this moment, her perverted lust was even greater than before.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brushes and rollers at the ready, the two young painters were at their posts at 6:00 AM the next morning, ready to begin their tedious and punitive assignment once more.
Richie was in high spirits, considering his loathing of the job, while Brooks yawned broadly, trying to fight off the sleepiness that still dulled him.
"Holliman?" came Big Brother's voice over the intercom.
"Yes, sir." was the listless reply.
"Perrera?"
"Right her, sir!" His response was so enthusiastic, Brooks was jolted to alertness. He must be high on something, the skinny lad was thinking.
The old man was surprised, too. For a moment he was tempted to question the strapping youth, so he said: "All right, you little punks, get your asses in gear. I expect to see half that wall finished by breakfast time--and keep your yaps shut, too! Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir." they answered in unison. Richie gave the intercom the third finger, and Brooks started to giggle.
"What's so funny, Holliman?" thundered the intercom immediately.
N-nothing, sir." Brooks stammered.
With his lips, Richie formed the sentence:
"Damn that bastard--I'll kick his ass good when I get out of here!"
His painting partner seconded the intention with an affirmative nod of his head.
Soon after the cream colored enamel shone on the wall, a nudge from his friend caused Brooks to look over at the neatly lettered printing on the wet wall. Brooks blanched, and his eyes became saucers filled with disbelief. The printing said: "MISS WARNER SUCKED MY COCK."
The hands on the wall clock grew leaden, as Brooks waited in endless agony for the breakfast bell to free them from their burdensome task. He gulped down the orange juice, inhaled the milk, gobbled half the sawdust eggs, then tore out of the cafeteria and into the boy's John, where the good looking boy was leaning casually against a white, porcelain basin, smoking a cigarette. A cock-sure smile was tattooed on his lips.
"So what happened?" the younger boy asked breathlessly. "Tell me--I just can't believe it! How did it happen?"
"Like I told you--she sucked my cock!" Richie said, sotto voce.
Brooks held his breath, waiting expectantly for an elaboration. "Well?..."
"It was a cinch; easiest thing I've ever done." he boasted. "Remember how I told you that I made a pass at her yesterday after the workshop session?"
"Yeah, yeah?"
"Well, last night in the cafeteria line, she whispered to me to come and see her in the art room after dinner. I did. She said she wanted to make me understand that she trusted me, and she didn't mean for anything to happen. Well, I called her bluff--I just made another pass at her. Then she tried to act real passive, ya know, like she was resisting. But she was so hot she hardly knew where she was, man! That gave me a chance to think. When she tried to stop me, I was ready for her. I called her a prick tease. That really blew her mind. So like I was hopin', she must have figured she had to prove that it wasn't true...so she sucked my cock."
"Geezus! Wow!" Brooks aspirated.
"Naw--that's next." Richie said with perfect assurance.
"When?" asked the attentive buddy.
"Tonight, kid. Tonight. It'll take a little more effort, but I'll do it."
"Yeah, you. You and a couple of other kids who really need a good piece to start you off right. I'll set it up somehow."
Brooks frowned dubiously. "You really think you can pull it off?"
"Has your old compadre ever let you down yet, kid?" the tall boy grinned.
"Well, no, Richie. You haven't, but..."
"So hang ten, Holliman. I know what I'm doing. That broad's hot to trot. She's begging for it, and I'm gonna let her have it in spades. I'll teach that self-righteous cunt not to treat me like some stupid charity case--nobody treats
Richie Perrera like that without paying for it!" he said angrily, jabbing the butt of his thumb into his chest.
Brooks searched the handsome face before he spoke.
"I...I don't know." he said quietly, looking at his sneakers.
"You don't know what!" he shot back defensively.
"Miss Warner...I just don't know if it's right, forcing ourselves on her like that. I mean, she's really been nice, and all. What have you got against her?"
Richie grabbed the shorter kid by the shirt collar. "Look, stupid, do you want to get laid or not?" he asked angrily.
"Sure...yeah, I've got to get laid."
"Then don't ask stupid questions!"
* * *
At the workshop that afternoon Richie worked intently over his sketch pad, making several anatomical drawings. When he saw Lorie go to her desk to get something out of the drawer, he quickly got up and headed toward her. In a voice audible to the other inmates he said: "Oh Miss Warner, would you please give me an opinion on these drawings?"
Lorie barely looked up. Her face was flushed with embarrassment and she didn't want Richie or any of the others to see the beet-red giveaway. "Certainly." she replied crisply. But when the sketch pad was held under her face, she was forced to stifle a gasp. There before her, perfectly drawn to the last detail, was a large picture of a male and female copulating! The two figures bore a startling resemblance to herself and Richie Pererra! Next to the drawing was a cleanly lettered note which read: MISS
W--Could I talk to you about a special project I have in mind? I will come to the art room at 6:30. Please write "OK" if it's OK. Thank you.
Lorie was beside herself. She was stunned and angered by the boldness of his approach. She was shocked by the lewd drawing. But she was even more horrified to note the excitement she felt in looking at the almost photographic rendition of herself and Richie obscenely cohabiting like that. He was standing too close, brushing her thigh with his knee and tremors of heated anticipation were beginning to course through her. Saying nothing, she quickly took a black charcoal pencil and began to draw over the lines, obliterating some of them and revising others, so that, when she finished her corrections, the drawing resembled nothing more than a mallard swimming in a pond. Then she flung the charcoal on the desk and looked up at him, her green eyes sparkling with anger and indignation. "There, Richie. I think that's a little better now." she said, controlling her voice as best she could.
He simply gave her one of his irresistible smiles. "Is that 'OK' then, Miss Warner?" She hesitated. She knew that somehow she would have to break it off before she lost control of herself completely. She had to set him straight before he weakened her again. She could hardly do it in front of the other youngsters. On the other hand, if she agreed to see him after class hours again, it would seem like an open invitation to enact the drawing he had put before her eyes. If she said "No.", he would be left puzzled and would have an opportunity to reinforce his mistrust of adults. She sighed. Unfortunately there was nothing to do but see the boy and hope that she could maintain her control long enough to explain why she could never allow anything sexual to happen between them again. Finally she reached for the charcoal pencil and quickly scribbled two letters that brought an instant grin to the boy's handsome face. "Thank you, Miss Warner." he beamed, as he read the word "OK."
CHAPTER EIGHT
There was a flatbed truck parked outside the big, main building that squatted under the blistering desert sun. The truck had arrived that day with some shop machinery and kitchen equipment for the cafeteria. Half the stuff had been unloaded from the huge, wooden shipping crates, but the other crates still wore the heavy steel bands that testified to the merchandise inside. It happened that the truck was parked opposite the arts and crafts room, on the west side of the two-story building, putting the crates at eye-level with the open windows on that side of the building. A person standing on the truck bed could clearly observe the activities in the sunlit work room. Richie had already determined the perspective from his post at the long, linoleum covered table when he attended the art workshop that afternoon.
Now he watched covertly from a rear door in the cafeteria as the three young figures scrambled, one by one, onto the idle truck and hid themselves in the empty crates.
Richie chuckled with amusement as the fat kid struggled to get up over the high railing. Arnie Taggert really was a good kid, and funny as hell. (That's something the hard-nosed Puerto Rican wouldn't give most people he'd ever known.) Arnie's trouble, as far as girls were concerned, is that he used food to try and solve his emotional hungers and any other problems he had. Consequently he was a walking Tweedledee. People laughed at him, and so he attempted to swallow his hurt feelings with every mouthful of food. Secondly, he wasn't exactly a good-looking kid he was about an "8" on the ugly scale.
Dwayne Berman, the other third of the trio, was not bad looking at all. He was just hopelessly dumb. He was only bright enough to realize that he wasn't very smart, and that kind of bothered him. His dumbness made him shy; at least he appeared shy because he never had much to say to anyone. Naturally, Dwayne rarely talked to girls. He'd never know what to say to get one to jump into the sack. But a good roll in the hay with Miss Warner ought to loosen his tongue.
Yes, all three of those guys including Brooks, who'd come so close to getting laid the other day needed to get laid. Richie was glad for the opportunity to show these kids the ropes.
Carefully surveying the area for lurking proctors and nosy fellow "students", Richie walked out of the cafeteria and along the dusty footpath until he reached a side entrance to the main building. Pausing to listen for footsteps, he stealthily walked a few feet more until he reached the closed door to the art room.
He lifted his hand to knock, then changed his mind and softly opened the door, then turned the key in the lock behind him.
Lorie heard a faint noise and looked up sharply to see the brash face of the handsome boy who was striding towards her.
"Hello again, Miss Warner," Richie said with a grin.
"Oh, Richie, I'm glad you're here," she began in a business-like tone.
"So am I, Miss Warner," he grinned again.
She ignored the innuendo. "Richie, please sit down. I have to explain something to you."
"Yes ma'am?" he obliged, hopping up on one of the work tables.
"What happened yesterday can't happen again."
"Oh, I dig that, Miss Warner. I know you didn't get anything out of that that was chintzy of me. From now on I'm going to make damned sure you get something in return. After all, sex is a give and take thing."
"That's not what I meant, Richie," she said, blushing at the misinterpretation. Her voice was unemotional but inwardly, her feeling was quite the reverse. It was going to take all the will power she could muster to keep her resolve with the maddeningly appealing youngster.
"You know as well as I do that we can't go on like this. I mean...what happened yesterday was an accident. I somehow got carried away with myself, and I'm not going to let that happen again."
There was deep hurt in his eyes, and bitterness which he apparently could not conceal. Her heart went out to him. She wanted to clasp him in her arms and stroke his hair and whisper, "There...there, now. Everything's going to be all right." The kid looked up at her forlornly, his face filled with sensitivity. For one moment he seemed to have dropped the mask he presented to the world. For one moment he allowed her to see the real Richie Perrera a misguided but compassionate teenager!
"I...did like it," Lorie gasped. "But...I guess I liked it too much, and that's why we can't do that again, or anything else like that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get some things out of the store room." Quickly she turned on her heel and almost sprinted to the adjacent room, tears pooling in her green eyes. Dammit! she was thinking, why does that boy get to me so much! She cried silently to herself as she fumbled with sketch pads, paints and brushes, hoping fervently that he would not be there when she walked back into the room.
Richie grinned diabolically as he walked over to the open window that was at eye level with the empty crates on the truck. The sun was beginning to set, and he squinted as the blinding rays pierced his eyes. Because of the sun, he couldn't see the three figures who were secretly observing the room from their hiding places in the crates. But he knew they were there. What's more, he knew the art teacher couldn't see them either. Nor could he be observed from the path under the high windows. She would know that too.
Quickly he unbuttoned his shirt, unzipped his Levi's, unlaced his sneakers and stripped to the buff. He could only laugh at what the three green kids in the crates were thinking. In time they'd learn that there was more than one way to get a piece of ass! Then the determined youth looked down at his burgeoning cock. It was hard, but not fully erect, so he grabbed the warm shaft and stroked it back and forth in his hand a few times until it blossomed into obscene flower just as Lorie Warner appeared from behind the supply room wall.
She almost fainted at the shocking sight, dropping a handful of brushes as she stepped back into the workroom. She never would have expected this! Richie had looked so hurt, so utterly wounded when she had stalked out of the room. She honestly thought he had left quietly, that she would be alone. Instead, he was standing near the window, his body spotlighted by the sun, totally naked, a lewd, mocking grin on his face. Worse, his hand was obscenely stroking the stunningly displayed, blood-engorged penis!
She stared at him, spellbound, despite herself. She'd never seen him without his clothes on. Even yesterday, when she had submissively sucked him off and let him come in her mouth, he had been fully clothed except for his naked cock. Now he was displaying one of the most beautiful, most muscular, most flawless young bodies she had ever seen in her life. For a moment she was paralyzed. Then she was mobilized by the sight of him walking towards her slowly.
"No, Richie...please!" she pleaded, as she tried to run for the door.
"But, Miss Warner," Richie intoned with astonishing sincerity, "I want to make love to you. I want to fuck you."
She was on the other side of one of the long tables. For a moment she could find no words of protest. Looking at his body was irresistible for her, and her eyes roamed the naked torso. She would love to sculpt him one day. Again she flashed on the masochistic ecstasy she experienced yesterday when she had taken his cock into her mouth. She wanted him so badly she could hardly stand it. She thought she would die if she had to deny herself, but she mustn't yield to him she couldn't! She just couldn't!
"No, Richie," she said in a strained whisper. "We can't. That's all there is to it. We just can't."
Richie watched her silently. He knew it was now or never. He couldn't lose face with his three junior protégée's. He had to make his move.
With amazing agility, Richie vaulted up onto the table and then jumped down to the floor, right next to where the startled teacher was standing. She gazed at him, dumbfounded, as he gently but firmly took the sketch pads from her arms and the jars of paint from her hand and placed them on a nearby stool. She began to tremble with fear and excitement as he extended one of his hands slowly toward her breast. She leaned against the high work table, a soft whimper of protest rising in her throat as the palm of his hand came in contact with one of her already swollen mounds, crushing the covered nipple with the heel of his hand. The nipple responded instantly to his touch by rising to a tingling rigidity.
The older woman heaved a deep sigh, her knees almost going weak as Richie moved closer to her. Once more her eyes feasted on the looming cock that was close to brushing her loins. Suddenly he grabbed her and pressed his mouth eagerly to her sensuously parted lips. Before she could protest, his tongue burrowed deeply into her mouth. He was eagerly kneading and fondling the up-thrust, ripe breasts as he kissed her hotly, and the titillation was already beginning to weaken her resistance.
Lorie closed her eyes, fighting with all her strength against the forbidden electric sensations coursing through her body. She squirmed and writhed in a half-hearted effort to wriggle away from the young boy, but the movement only served to put her body into closer and even more arousing contact with his. The shocking pressure of his thighs and the demanding erection of his naked cock pushing against her loins further stimulated her, making it increasingly difficult to resist his urgent advances. She couldn't help herself she wanted Ritchie so badly that she hardly could force herself to remember the dreadful consequences of surrender. Her body was crying out in wanton desperation; her will was buckling.
Then she shuddered as Richie drew back just far enough to allow his hands access to the buttons on her cotton dress. His strong hands deftly flicked them, one by one, exposing the rising and falling cleavage of her milk-white breasts that were thrust up against each other by the restricting cups of her brassiere. The teenager kept his gaze fixed on hers, smiling with perfect confidence, as he continued to work open the buttons down the length of her excited body.
Lorie waged the losing battle against her lust for a few more minutes, but she acknowledged that it had been hopeless from the beginning. Things had already gotten too far out of hand. Richie's bold gesture of stripping himself naked had been too much for her. She couldn't resist the beckoning sight of his smooth, muscular body and the prodding of his erect cock between her thighs. Dammit! Why did he have to be so clever, besides being the most sexually appealing...man she had ever known. Yes, he was only fifteen years old but he was unmistakably a man! Now, with the smooth, rigid penis brushing against the thin panties, she was helpless to resist. At last she heaved a deep sigh of resignation and nodded her head, pushing Richie gently away from her.
"All right," she conceded. "You win. But this is the last time," she warned. "Don't ever come back here again."
Through lust-lidded eyes came the triumphant smile as Richie lifted the dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. The teacher was clad in only her brassiere and sheer panties now, her back to the open window where the three youngsters were all eyes. Richie gave a quick look over her shoulder as he reached behind her back and made an "okay" sign with his hand before deftly unhooking the white fabric band. Richie stroked the straps away from her shoulders, causing her flesh to rise in tiny bumps of pleasure. She could feel the last, hot rays of the setting sun against her heated flesh. Her ripely rounded breasts stood at attention, without the need of artificial support. Indeed, she wore a bra only for the sake of decorum. She didn't want to appear seductive to any of her young wards at Porterville, much less to the warden! She was a little bit afraid of the older man.
Lorie couldn't help but notice the look of eager appreciation in Richie's eyes. His eyes widened as she hooked her thumbs around the narrow, elastic waistband of her panties, then slipped further down inside the flimsy material to brush the warm smootliness of her belly and the sepia strands of her pubic hair. He knew he had her now, and she would never again be able to say no to anything he or his friends demanded of her.
The sensuous woman gazed down wantonly at her own near-naked body. Anticipation mounted in her as she surveyed the arching breasts, the pointed nipples, her naked belly and the softly curling pussy mound under the near-transparent panties that were barely covering her lower hips. She toyed a bit longer with the waistband, drawing it a half-inch lower on her inviting hips, looking at the naked boy through seductive eyes.
A soft moan issued spontaneously from her lips as her eyes trailed slowly down his muscular young body and rested once more on his lustfully bobbing penis rising from the crisp, dark curls that furred his genitals.
Lorie knew there was no stopping herself now. She had gone too far. She would have him now, regardless of what happened later. She was going to be fucked as she had never been fucked in her life. There would be ample time to consider the consequences later!
She took his hands in hers, guiding them to her hips, encouraging him to take the panties down. His breath blew warmly over the pouting nipples of her aching breasts as he seized the tight waistband of her panties and inched them over the clefted cheeks of her buttocks and over her marble thighs, exposing the softly curling hair on her already hotly flaring pussy lips.
Then she shivered with excitement as the good looking youth pressed his face into the deep valley of her breasts and his tongue hiked cross-country over the yielding hillocks and the sensitive peaks of her breast buds. He seized the warm cheeks of her buttocks and pulled her tightly against his own straining loins, pressing his impatient cock against the moistening protuberance of her cunt. She whimpered delightedly.
Eagerly she enclosed him with her arms, her fingers etching wild patterns on the rippling muscles of his back. His broad, hairless chest incited the supple mounds of her breasts; his prodding shaft goaded her perspiring loins.
A soft moan issued from her throat as Richie parted her ass cheeks with a sure finger and let the exploring digit descend to the tantalizing slit of her pussy.
Lorie's whole body jerked spasmodically; maddening flutters of desire ran rampant through her as his finger teased the surface of her hungering little cunt hole. She eagerly lapped and kissed his smooth, olive forehead and the lids of his dark, smoldering eyes, his firm cheeks and his full, pouting lips. It was going to happen at last! she was thinking. Despite the utter insanity of it, she was going to get fucked by fifteen year old Richie Perrera, the "bad boy" of Porterville! And at that moment, nothing could thrill her more.
"Turn around," he commanded gently. "I want to feel you against me like that."
With a supplicating moan, Lorie obediently turned to face the sunset, pressing back against his warm loins with her quivering buttocks. His hot young cock pressed up between the tensed cheeks of her softly mounded ass-flesh, evoking moans of intense pleasure. With one purposeful hand around her body, he kneaded her luscious breasts; with the other, he stroked the slippery little crevice of her throbbing pussy...massaging the distended clitoris, then easing inside the squishy vagina with an experienced touch. She gasped and ground her ass into his loins with a fierce abandon and wanton need.
"Oh yes...yes!" she rasped, shivering with heated anticipation and uncontrollable emotion. "Oh, Richie fuck me. Fuck me now!"
Without further invitation, the youth easily hoisted her up to the table, in a sitting position. Quick as the blink of an eye, it seemed, he was beside her, lying on his back and motioning for her to get on top of him. She wondered why he hadn't chosen the soft, caressing pillows in the supply room. As though he could read her mind, he suddenly said, "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, Miss Warner. The table is kind of hard for you."
"Shouldn't we go into the room?" she asked in a trembling voice.
"It's a thousand miles away, my lady. I want your cunt sliding down over my cock too badly to make the journey!"
That did it. She was putty in his hands. God! Where did he pick that up? she wondered. This kid could teach a course to the men of her generation!
"Oh, I want you too, Richie," she crooned. "I want you so very much!"
She positioned herself above the youth's powerful body, placing a knee on either side of his muscular thighs, allowing the blood-engorged head of his lusting cock to brush along the downy surface of her cunt. He seized the hard probe with one of his hands and guided it to the tingling little bud of her clitoris.
"Ah!" she gasped, grinding her hips against the velvet knob. "Ah! Ahhhhh!"
Richie hesitated for a second, holding the throbbing tip of his cock against the defenseless slit of her hungering cunt lips. Then, his own hips quivering, he gave an upward thrust of his bottom, pulling her down on the invading shaft with the other strong arm.
Lorie stiffened, her body contorting from the pain, as the lips of her pussy yielded to the penetration of the fiery tip of his prick. She gasped as she allowed her buttocks to sink slowly downward, implanting the palpitating hardness into her soft, cuntal opening. Simultaneously, Richie thrust upward again, burrowing like an earthworm deeper into the dark, wet folds of her liquidly enveloping vaginal depths. With another short jerky motion from both of them, his conquering young cock was embedded to the hilt deep up inside the art teacher's hotly clasping cunt.
They lay there motionless for one, long moment of delicious denial, relishing the sensations that enveloped them. Lorie, skewered like a stuck pig, was lost in ecstasy and breathless anticipation. Richie, the skewering stripling, was flushed with the fever of youthful desire and the fervor of youthful conquest. He knew his younger buddies were getting a ringside seat at Miss Warner's seduction; knew they were probably beating off as they took in the unfiltered view of her lush, naked ass waving high in the air with his cock buried deep in her cunt below. They could easily see the wanton way she embraced him, the obscenely passionate kisses she lavished on him.
Unable to control her desire any longer, the older woman began to writhe against him. He answered her mating call with a sensuously compatible undulation. She was all gooseflesh as he began to grind her softly curving buttocks slowly up and down, easing his slippery cock in and out of her heated pussy in smooth, rhythmical manipulations. His hands massaged the sensitized mounds of her breasts, and his fingers tweaked the rosebud nipples as he continued to penetrate the velvet folds of her pussy. He was spearing her harder and harder now, and she responded with more frenzied up and down thrusts on his virile young cock.
"Ohhh! Ohhhh, yes! It's so good...so wonderful, Richie!" she purred into his ear. She let her tongue dart into the little cave, sending incredible shocks of pleasure through him. She had lost all her inhibitions. She was tonguing his ear, whispering obscene, four-letter words into it, galloping on his fiery steed for all she was worth. Richie had to admit that Miss Warner was the best piece of ass he'd had in his four years of screwing. For a moment he almost forgot his grim resolve. But he quickly blotted any compassion for her from his mind. There was a lot more where this came from, and he was going to make damned sure he got it. He was going to make damned sure his callow compatriots got it, too! Richie championed the underdog. As for the rest they didn't need it. That's the way he looked at it.
Richie grinned triumphantly at the strained face of the beautiful, naive woman above him. Her eyes were closed, her teeth were gritted between bared lips. Moans and whimpers of ecstasy escaped from her throat. She was leaning into his hands, begging him to continue the heated caresses of her breasts. She was like a woman possessed, tossing and writhing with savage abandon. Her body had come to life totally in a wanton spell of electric excitement that had origins deep in her pussy. She flowered into naked womanhood before him; before, she had been an attractive female who kept her sexuality hidden under a prim and official facade. Richie had never seen a woman so hot in his life, and his chest swelled with pride.
"Oh fuck me, darling. Fuck me harder," Lorie pleaded into the young boy's ear. The profanity coming from her own lips only heightened her perverse enjoyment of the wanton ravishment he was inflicting on her willing body. "Yessss...fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!"
The reform school teacher continued to moan and mewl without restraint into the boy's ear, her hands roving hungrily over his firm, young body, bucking and tossing wildly on his marauding cock. She knew she was getting close now. The shivers of ecstasy were coursing through her lust-fired flesh with greater and greater intensity. Her body had already become as tense as a coiled spring with the obscene lust that even the depraved act of fingerfucking herself the other night hadn't been able to relieve. She was coming closer and closer to the blissful state of release she so badly wanted and needed. She knew she would not be denied.
The last lustful strains of the overture were ringing in her ears. The orgasmic symphony was about to begin. She thrashed up and down on the youngster's eagerly fucking hardness, feeling his taut testicles smack hard up against the crevice of her ass; feeling the dark forest of his genital hair merging with the soft, light blonde thicket of her own pubic curls. Then suddenly her body thrashed even more wildly as he rammed his cock brutally up to the farthest reaches of her narrow, vaginal channel. The waves of ecstasy began to break against the beach of her body, swelling in her belly and crashing against her loins, so that the reverberations could be felt to the very soles of her feet and the follicles of her hair.
"Oooooohhh!" she panted aloud. "I'm cumming, darling. I'm cummmmmiinnnnng!"
Her climax consumed her, blanking her mind to all but the raw sensations that ran amok in her body. There was only the indescribable ecstasy that possessed her; that, and the throbbing young cock that filled her spasming pussy and sent her rocketing into outer space. That beautiful cock and the beautiful boy attached to it had brought about the delirium of ecstasy, as nothing else, as no other man and no other cock had done. At that moment she capitulated totally to her helpless infatuation with the boy. She knew then that she would do anything he asked of her, regardless of the act; regardless of the consequences. She was in love with Richie Perrera.
With the woman's orgasm a fait d'accom-pli, Richie felt at liberty to release his long withheld climax. He couldn't hold back any longer, nor was there any need to now. He began to buck and thrash spastically beneath her with great, heavy gasps of passion coming from his lips as the hot, sperm-laden cum welled up in his balls and began its frenetic journey through the engorged tube of the deeply embedded cock. Instantly it was spewing out into the heated confines of her ravenously sucking pussy, filling the moist cave of her cunt with the creamy ooze she was hungering for, begging for. Again and again he pumped the sticky liquid into her hungering cunt as he continued to fuck up into her with the force of a jackhammer. Excited mewls of submission and gratitude flowed freely from her lips as she once more showered eager and lascivious kisses on his perspiring face. Through the ecstatic, orgasmic grimace on his face came an expression of triumph, a confident smirk of power at the sure knowledge that from the truck twenty feet away, his three friends were witnessing Miss Warner's every move...were hearing her grateful sobs.
Tremors of pleasure continued to wrack her periodically as she hugged her boy-lover tightly. Then she propped herself up on her elbows, took his face in her hands and gazed at him longingly, her expression one of tenderness, deep affection...and love.
"That was so good...so good, Richie," she said softly. She paused, searching his face for reassurance, for an affirmation. "See I do care for you," she said, almost desperately. "And I'm not what you called me yesterday. I know your home life, your unfortunate upbringing well, all that has caused you to resent grownups, to mistrust them. But I hope you know now that you can trust me. I hope you know now that I trust you. Do you, Richie? Do you...? "
Lorie was taken aback by the dispassionate glint in his eyes. Then he melted her again with one of his winning smiles. "Do something for me, Miss Warner," he said softly.
"What?" she asked with faint apprehension.
"Get up and walk over to that window."
"Why?"
"Just do it, Miss Warner."
Reluctantly, Lorie rose from the boy and edged to the floor. She had a strange, unpleasant tightness in the pit of her stomach as she drew nearer the open window. The sun had almost set on the horizon now, silhouetting the shipping crates on top of the truck. She stifled a shriek as she saw the three figures scattering in all directions. Her heart sank as she realized that not only had they seen everything, but Richie had known they were there all along.
Tears of hurt and humiliation welled in her round, green eyes as she turned to question his betrayal. He was dressing hastily as she asked: "Richie, why? What is the meaning of this?"
"It's very simple, Miss Warner. Those kids never had a piece of ass. They need a good, "trusting" adult like you to break them in."
Richie got to the door, unlocked it, then turned halfway around. "Oh, by the way...we'll be at your cottage about ll:00 tonight."
"But..." she protested.
"See ya, Teach," he grinned as he closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER NINE
Lorie drummed her fingers nervously on the lamp table next to the overstuffed chair she was sitting in and stared at the print curtains that were tightly drawn. She looked at her watch, then brushed the imaginary wrinkles out of her kelly green jersey dress. Green was her favorite color; it brought out her eyes. It wasn't by accident that she had chosen the clinging dress with the buttons down the front. If she was to be a sacrificial lamb, she wanted to at least draw admiring responses from the little butchers.
Her hand trembled as she lifted the glass of amber liquid to her lips again,, the ice cubes clinked against the sides of the container. The scotch helped, but not enough. She wished she had a gallon of it.
She looked at her watch again--10:56.
How would Richie ever be able to sneak out of his cottage without being seen? How would the other boys get away from under the house proctor's nose. Knowing Richie, he could get away with anything. She'd already found that out this afternoon! How could he have made love to her so sincerely, knowing all the while that he was setting her up for the shocking and humiliating ritual that was soon to begin? Maybe the other boys would be unable to slip away, she thought hopefully. Perhaps it would only be Richie...she would have him all to herself, to reenact the thrilling drama that had so profoundly affected her.
At that moment she realized how much she really did care about the boy who had betrayed her. Earlier, she had felt her whole world collapsing as she saw the young friends of his who had witnessed their entire act of love-making. She saw her carefully structured life about to crumble. Her job, her reputation, her self-respect--those should have been her prime considerations. Instead, she was overcome by the treasonous plot that her trusted young lover had engineered against her. She wanted so desperately for him to feel at least some of the emotion wedded to her passion for him.
The lovely, blonde arts and crafts teacher knew now that her days at Porterville were numbered. She was resigned to that. The worst part about it would not be the shame she would feel when Warden Blanchard confronted her with the inevitable gossip, or the dismissal, or the lack of a job she really enjoyed tremendously. No, all those things would be terrible, but they would pass. She would find another job--not working for the state of
Nevada, of course, but there would always be a job somewhere. But how could she bear to be without Richie Perrera?...the first man in her life whom she cared for deeply?--the first lover who had truly satisfied her as no other man ever had?
It was too absurd--he was just a kid! she reminded herself. She was a thirty your old woman! He had matured physically, but emotionally he was still a child. How could she have expected a child--particularly a defiant, angry and rebellious child like Richie
--to keep an affair with the ranch's art teacher a secret! It was too juicy a plum, too great a feather in his cap to withhold from the other boys. And that Arnie Taggert, he could never keep his mouth shut--unless it was filled with food!
There was one faint possibility left: the hope that somehow she could reach Richie on an emotional level, could somehow win him over. It was a tough challenge, but she couldn't allow herself to think that it was futile. She was going to use the remainder of her time at Porterville in pursuit of that goal; the one that had gotten her into this lurid affair in the first place.
She was swallowing the last of the amber liquid when there was a soft knock on the door. She almost choked. Quickly she got up from the chair and took the glass into the small kitchenette at the end of the room. She ran water inside the glass and swirled it around vigorously, then placed the glass in the empty dish drainer. She popped a breath mint into her mouth, smoothed her short, wavy hair and made her way to the door. She staggered dizzily from the effects of the hastily swallowed liquor. She hoped it wouldn't be apparent to her "GUESTS."
She took a deep breath and opened the door. Richie was standing on the threshold, flanked by Brooks and Dwayne Berman, who had an idiotic expression on his face. Behind the three was Arnie Taggert, his grossly overweight body equaling the other three in breadth.
"Hi!" Richie said flippantly, another triumphant grin on his face. His pajama top was visible under the light, cardigan sweater thrown over his shoulders. Brooks had a terry cloth robe on. The other boys were dressed in jeans and shirts.
Richie looked appreciatively at the shapely body in the clinging, green jersey dress. "Aren't you going to ask us in, Miss Warner?" he teased. Then he pushed past her, grazing her breast with his arm as he ambled nonchalantly into the small room. The other boys followed like sheep. Lorie closed the door behind them and locked it. She stood with her back to them, trembling, before she turned to face her young seducers.
Richie had assumed a commanding position in the big chair. "You've been drinking, haven't you? he accused.
"Why, no...no I haven't, Richie." she lied.
"Yes you have." he said firmly. "Why don't you share some with us? I haven't had any booze for a long time. And Dwayne is pretty shy, as you know. It might help to loosen him up." He gave her one of those grins.
"Very well." she conceded with a sigh. "I guess I could use some more myself."
"Why not? It goes good with the hash."
"The hash?" Lorie said with widening eyes.
"Don't act so innocent, Miss Warner. You know what kind of hash I'm talking about." Richie said reproachfully.
"I won't have it!" Lorie said self-righteously.
"Get the booze."
"All right, Richie. I'll get the booze. But I won't have you smoking that dope in my cottage!" she said adamantly.
Lorie went the few steps to the kitchenette and got the Dwar's White Label from the cupboard. She took five small paper cups from a plastic wrapper and closed the cupboard door. A strange scent greeted her nostrils. At first she thought it might be something in the kitchen, but she had very little food there. She sniffed around suspiciously, trying to pinpoint the source of the unfamiliar odor. Then she turned and went back into the bed-sitting area of the room. Richie was inhaling deeply on a hand-made cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs and squinting his eyes before he passed the paper-covered weed to Brooks, who approached it the same way, grasping it between his thumb and middle finger, then inhaling deeply and holding his breath.
"Richie, I warned you..."
"You're not exactly in a position to warn anybody about anything now, Miss Warner." he said, emphasizing her title. "Just pipe down and pour."
With trembling fingers, Lorie half-filled four of the five paper cups with the pungent scotch. She filled the fifth cup and drank it down with scarcely any awareness of what she was doing. Then she remembered to pass the little cups to the young visitors before filling her cup again and drinking that too.
Lorie observed, through blurred vision, that the cigarette had been passed to Arnie Taggert. His cup-shaped, little hippopotamus ears wiggled as he drew deeply on the weed, the way the other two youths had done. When he finished inhaling, his close-set eyes reflected the effects of the drug.
"Smoke up, Arnie." Richie commanded. And the fat kid took another long pull.
"How did you get this stuff?" Lorie asked her defiant young lover.
"It's easy, when you know the right people," he grinned. "Anything's easy when you know the right people." she gave an involuntary little shudder at his cutting insinuation.
"Pass it to the Teach." Richie said next. Compliantly, Arnie held it up to her.
She shook her head negatively, but mutely accepted the fat boy's offering. Daintily she lifted the skinny cigarette to her lips and took a long drag. The smoke was hot and harsh, and she choked and coughed violently, evoking childish giggles from the group. Then she handed it to the very dense Dwayne German, who sat there on the floor watching her with a dim-witted look of puzzlement on his face.
"I don't feel a thing." she announced proudly.
"You will in a minute." Richie told her.
The cocky youth poured himself some scotch, took another deep inhalation on the cigarette then passed it back to Lorie. "Have another go." he directed her.
The alcohol-dazed teacher obeyed his Svengali command as though she had no will of her own. She knew things were out of her hands now, anyway. In one sense, she was already doomed. Oddly enough, the inevitability of her sentence gave her a sudden feeling of freedom. Why not?, she thought giddily. What difference did it make now, Richie had already betrayed her. She had admitted him and his friends into her cottage for the express purpose of initiating the boys into the secret fraternity of promiscuous sex. She would inevitably be found out, would be dishonorably discharged from her position at Porterville. So what difference did it make if she let herself go tonight? If she were going to be used sexually by all four of these boys in the same evening she preferred to be half-drunk and drugged with a powerful narcotic. She would let herself descend to their level, and perhaps this would foster some kind of communication with the boy she cared for so desperately, the boy whose callous disregard for her feelings and her welfare slashed at her heart like a dull knife.
Passively she took another long pull on the hashish cigarette. This time she managed not to cough.
"I still don't feel anything from it." she said, handing it back to Richie.
"You will, sweetheart...you will. Now take off your clothes."
"What?"
"You heard me--take off your clothes."
Lorie was stunned at the hardhearted way in which he spoke to her. Did he have no feeling for her whatsoever? He was treating her as though she were a piece of beef on the hoof...as though she were a common whore.
She looked pleadingly at the other boys for some show of empathy. But there was only slack-jawed anticipation on their stoned little faces. She suddenly saw poor Arnie Taggert as an enormous Humpty-Dumpty. She could barely prevent herself from a singsong of the nursery rhyme. She wondered if, like the egg in the verse, he would break into a thousand pieces when he had his first climax with a woman. She started to giggle. The whole episode was too ridiculous for words. It was a Dali painting, a scene from The Mad Woman of Chaillot. It was the Katz 'n' jammer Kids and pure Heteronymous Bosch!
"All right, boys." she said, looking at Richie. "Just gimme another little drink and I'll do my thing!"
Richie grinned enthusiastically, giving the high sign to Brooks, who poured the last of the scotch into her cup. She chugalugged the burning alcohol with barely a tremor, then she looked slowly from one boy to another. She could feel something now. Whether it was the booze or the hash, or both, she couldn't be sure. But she sure felt something. Otherwise she would never have been able to do what she did.
Slowly Lorie reached up and began to undo the buttons of her tight-fitting dress. She let the fabric fall away from her body carelessly as she continued to look from one young face to the other. She ran her fingers along the exposed flesh of her shapely and erotically stimulated body. It was madness. Sheer madness. It was just too insane to be believed. But it was happening.
"Who's first?" she asked, trying to sound very bold.
"Brooks." Richie told her.
"Oh course. I might have guessed." she said pointedly to Richie. When she shifted her gaze to the small, skinny boy, he seemed as nervous as she was. That was some consolation.
"We don't mean any harm, Miss Warner. Honest." Brooks reassured her.
"Of course you don't, Brooks." she cooed at him. "I know this isn't your idea--it was
Richie's. Richie wants to do something nice for all of you, to show you what a good friend he is.
Richie wants to help his little friends--at my expense; to show me how much he hates me." she jabbed sarcastically at the person who had hurt her so much.
"Cool it, Teach." Richie warned her. She was getting to him a little bit, and he couldn't afford to let that happen.
"And you're all going to watch, aren't you? she continued, ignoring the warning. "You're going to watch like nasty little boys spying on grownups doing grownup things...just the way you did this afternoon, when your generous mentor had you hide in the packing crates. Peek-a-boo...I see you-oo!" she giggled again. She was almost finished unbuttoning her dress. She really had expected no less than what was happening.
"And then?" she looked at Richie for direction.
"Then Dwayne and Arnie." he shot back at her.
"Have we left anybody out?" she goaded. "Oh yes, I almost forgot. You're last, of course. My, you really are a gentleman, Perrera. I must speak to the old man on you're behalf again."
"Thanks--but you've said enough already." he ground out at her.
"Oh no I haven't, ducks." she retorted, undoing the last button and letting the dress slip to the floor. She was about to unhook her bra when she noticed that Brooks was still fully clothed. She put her hands on her hips and assumed a challenging stance. "Well, Brooks, do you intend to fuck me with your clothes on? That's not much fun." she teased.
"N-no ma'am." he stuttered, nervously beginning to untie the belt on his robe.
Then Lorie's eyes narrowed to mere slits as she deftly unhooked her brassiere and let it fall away from the voluptuous, spherical breasts. "Wow!" Arnie gasped.
She was clad only in her panties how, and even in her drugged state, she felt more vulnerable than she had ever felt before. Yet, despite the embarrassment and humiliation she felt in front of the leering, eager youths, she was becoming aware of an even more poignant sensation--an approaching excitement in her loins and belly, a distant bugling that grew more discernable with each moment. It began to thunder within her like the galloping hoof beats of a hundred charging horses. The act of stripping naked in front of these innocent boys gave her a perverted pleasure that was completely beyond her control. The very forbidden idea of it excited her tremendously. She enjoyed exhibiting her lush, womanly body before the eyes of these young voyeurs.
She was breathing harder now, as she hooked her thumbs under the elastic band of her panties and drew then slowly downward over her firm buttocks and over her belly, revealing the downy hair of her genital wedge and the enticing pink slit of her pussy nestled so tenderly between her thighs.
The intoxicated woman lost her balance slightly as she stepped out of her panties, prompting a dim-witted guffaw from Dwayne Berman. His laugh embarrassed her in her contrived one-upsmanship ploy. But she regained her composure when she looked at little Brooks Holliman.
"Why Brooks," she said maternally, "you don't even have a hard-on yet."
"I'll get it up in just a minute, Miss Warner." he promised apologetically.
"I'm sure you will, Brooks. I'll do everything I can to help you." She was amazed to hear herself saying anything so bold to the kid.
"I'm the director of this play." Richie cut in suddenly. "You let me call the cues."
Lorie's eyes shot angry sparks at him. She realized her vulnerability again when he ignored her look and roamed her naked body with his own eyes. "Or do you want to stop the show?" he asked unexpectedly.
"What do you mean?" she gasped, Again he had caught her off-guard.
"Do you want us to leave?" he asked quietly.
"I...I..." She couldn't even say it. She looked at Brooks, who was regarding her with desperation. She looked at the other two boys, who were hanging by their nails, hoping for fulfillment. The she looked back at Richie. His face was an equation without an answer. Finally, she hung her head in silent surrender. Now his triumph was complete. Not only had she agreed to submit to his demands, she had refused his offer to withdraw them. And the other boys had witnessed her willingness to submit to the ordeal. The only flimsy justification she had was that she couldn't bear to let Brooks down, especially after he had come so near to losing his virginity a few days before. It was a hollow excuse, but it was the only one she had; it was the last vestige of self-deluding pride.
Then Lorie turned to face the trembling virgin boy. The look of gratitude in his eyes was enough to make the orgy tolerable. She noted that his penis was more nearly erect now, and she beckoned him to her as she lay back on the bed.
"All right, Brooks," she purred. "You may get on top of me and fuck it." Brooks moved toward the bed hesitantly, brushing the imaginary lock away from his forehead. He kneeled beside her on the mattress. Then looked at her anxiously.
"I'm...not sure...what to do." he stammered.
"Don't worry, Brooks. I'll show you. I'll show you everything." she encouraged in a soft, lusty voice.
She took hold of his small, slender hand and placed it on her breast, rotating it in wide circles over the alabaster mound with the perky, pink nipple. This is the living end, she mused fleetingly. She was sinking to the depths of degradation, having sex with this pubescent boy while three more boys, drugged with dope and alcohol, watched every move. Moreover, she was in the same shameful state of intoxication herself, unable to offer the slightest objection. In fact, she was beginning to take the initiative in the wanton corruption of these minors.
With a soft moan, the naked teacher pulled the shy boy on top of her. "Lie between my legs." she whispered.
The youngster's whole body jerked as she reached down and grasped the tingling shaft of his fully erect cock with her fingers. She stroked the distended young member gently up and down its rigid length. At last she bent it towards the warmth and softness of her own moistening pussy, tugging it gently, urging the frightened youngster forward.
Brooks needed no further encouragement.
As embarrassed as he was at stripping before his friends, not to mention the art teacher, his excitement was beginning to override his apprehension. He'd come so close to getting laid before, and now he was close to it again. He just prayed that nothing would happen this time to prevent him from accomplishing his purpose.
Then, to his complete astonishment, the gorgeous blonde woman kissed him right on the lips, pulling him down more heavily on her naked body as she did so. One of her hands still clutched the twitching cock, while the other one moved forcibly up and down his back. Miss Warner had begun to sensuously writhe her narcotized body beneath him, and he could feel the teasing friction of her nipples brushing against his chest as she sucked his tongue into her mouth, moaning softly and skimming the warm flesh of his little cock with her fingers...her beautifully sensitive fingers.
Then she whispered into his mouth, "Feel my pussy. Feel my pussy, Brooks, and get me ready to be fucked."
Shocked at what he'd heard, the boy moved his hand cautiously from his side and placed it between the teacher's thighs, feeling his own excitedly throbbing little cock as he placed a tentative finger in the warm, wet slit of her pussy. This action evoked more mewls of desire from the passionate teacher.
"Yessss, Brooks." she hissed hotly into his ear. Feel my pussy. Rub your finger up and down in it." She momentarily forgot the presence of the other youths as she concentrated on the innocent boy who had mounted her.
Lorie hugged the trembling boy even more tightly against her swollen breasts and her eager loins. She was becoming steadily more excited by the thrilling sensations his finger produced as it perused the sensitive slit of her pussy. The juices were flowing more freely between her thighs from the tantalizing contact. She groaned aloud, Arching her ass up from the mattress in an even more obvious invitation to be fucked, grasping the small, half rubber balls of his buttocks in her hands and pulling him down harder on her.
Brook's rigid cock was now resting hard against Miss Warner's trembling cunt. He lurched as the teacher thrust a finger into his tight little anus, and the lunging motion sent his rigid young cock spearing into the hotly waiting mouth of her open cunt. She caressed his soft, almost hairless young balls with her fingers as she alternated between the anal thrust and the testicle massage.
"I did it!" Brooks suddenly cried.
Lorie had closed her eyes as the welcome penetration filled her with sensuous pleasure and her eagerly clasping vaginal sheath enveloped the excitedly pulsing young hardness. The boy's penile length was buried in the velvety dampness of her cunt, his semen stuffed testicle sac was resting in the nakedly spread crevice between her buttocks.
Now she opened her eyes to look at the youngster.
"What?"
"I did it," Brooks exclaimed again. "I got my first piece!" The other boys laughed. She smiled at him tactfully, suppressing the laughter in her own throat. He looked at her sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Miss Warner. I hope I didn't say the .wrong thing."
"That's all right, Brooks. That's quite all right."
"I guess I didn't believe it would ever happen, that's all."
"Well it hasn't really happened yet, Brooks." she said playfully. "You've got a little bit more to do."
"Yeah--like fucking her, Brooks." said the rotund Arnie.
Brooks grunted deeply and began to hump her in jerky, rhythmical movements. The teacher undulated her naked body sensuously beneath him, making a fluid motion with her hips, trying to control the youngster's movements by steering his buttocks with her hands. Gradually he caught on, and was soon falling in rhythm with her, moving nicely on her hotly writhing form.
"Easy now." she coached. "Just take it nice and easy, Brooks. Let it happen very naturally."
Brooks tried to comply, but he realized that fucking wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. He was scared to death that he was going to shoot off every time Miss Warner ground her hot little cunt mouth up against his balls; every time his cock slid back and forth in her tightly clenching pUssy. This had to be the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him. Fucking was the best thing in the world! He was going to fuck every day of his life until he dropped dead from pleasure! But it sure wasn't easy now. It was almost as hard as dancing-maybe harder. He'd never felt so awkward. But he was determined to give his best effort, so he tried to divert his thoughts from the mounting sexual tension in his pecker to things from like painting that goddamned wall, and his alcoholic parents, and a broken arm he had when he was nine--things like that. He must be doing a bit better now...Miss Warner was moaning and whimpering beneath him, churning her pelvis wildly, wrapping her legs around his ass. She was running her hands eagerly over his back, hugging him to her, crushing her lush breasts against his chest.
"Oh...oh, Brooks. You're doing so well!" she breathed.
Brooks felt an inner pride welling in his chest at the encouraging words from an old and experienced woman like Miss Warner. He had been so worried that he wouldn't be able to please his sex partner when he finally got the chance. But he was pleasing her. He could tell she really like the way he was fucking her, and that only spurred him on to greater heights of screwing. He intensified his lewdly thrusting movements, driving his little body harder and harder into hers, shoving his hotly pulsating cock deeper and deeper into the tightness of her pussy.
Lorie, in turn, was thrashing her body wildly beneath the inexperienced youngster, straining more and more desperately for the elusive climax she wanted so badly. 'She could tell he would cum very soon from the way he was shuddering violently and fucking into her cunt with all the force he could muster.
She thought she would lose her mind if the young boy came before she reached her climax, leaving her on the frustrating threshold of orgiastic desire. The hash she'd smoked made her need more compelling, made her lust more wanton. She would do anything, anything, to make herself come.
In a sudden gesture that took Brooks completely by surprise and shocked him beyond belief, the teacher raised her buttocks high in the air and, grabbing his hand tightly, forced one of his fingers up into the tiny, pursed little hole of her rectum.
That did it. It was more than Brooks could stand. There was something so perverted, so dirty about what she had made him do that it triggered the pent-up orgasm he had gallantly tried to stave off. His body stiffened.
Lorie's expression changed from one of dismay to one of delighted surprise, as she felt the first tremors of orgasmic release begin deep in her belly. Heedless of the pain, she screwed her buttocks down tightly onto the finger that violated her asshole, the burning sensation only giving impetus to the uncontrollable passion that held her in bondage.
The wanton woman gasped and moaned in ecstasy, thrashing her head from side to side on the bed as the young boy's cock unloaded his spermy young cum deep up into her ravenously milking vaginal walls and she was simultaneously engulfed in the waves of her own devastating orgasmic ecstasy. She drifted in a sea of foamy bliss, devoid of thought, unaware of the avid spectators who all bore staunch, young cocks in witness to the fantastically arousing spectacle before them.
Finally--after the boy's penis had spurted Jetstream after Jetstream of frothy cum into her still cumming pussy, after she moaned the last moan of sexual ecstasy, she relaxed the tightly contracted muscles of her buttocks and lay back heavily on the bed, the equally spent youngster resting like a vat of molten lead on top of her.
"OK, Brooks. Time's up." she heard Richie say. "Get your little caboose out of the train yard. It's their turn now."
A little gasp escaped from Brook's throat as he withdrew his spent penis and raised his head to look at her affectionately. "Thank you, Miss Warner." he said with heartfelt sincerity and gratitude.
"Cut the touching love scenes, Brooks." Richie said derisively.
Lorie shot a wounded look at him. She couldn't believe his heartless attitude, his total lack of concern for her or her feelings. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she realized that for all her efforts at appeasement, for all the passion they had shared, she had still gotten no closer to any kind of "communication" with the dissident teenager. He chose to remain an alien in her world. He was punishing her for something she couldn't even comprehend. He was making her suffer for all the grownups who had hurt him since his early childhood. At least that was clear. Would he ever stop punishing her?
"Arnie, Dwayne...get trucking." he said, averting his eyes from her.
The teacher's green eyes widened. She looked desperately at Richie, then at the two boys who were approaching her, both of them naked and sporting erections.
"But...Richie, I..." she attempted.
"Don't worry, Teach--they're going to take their turn together. That'll make it twice as fast for you."
Together?" she asked hoarsely.
"That's right, Teach." Richie answered triumphantly. "One in your pussy and the other in your mouth. If you like, they can draw straws to see who goes where, although I don't think it matters much to anybody at this point."
CHAPTER TEN
The passion-drugged school teacher was beyond disbelieving now. Nothing would surprise her at this point. What better way could the fiendish "director" of this sordid drama degrade her than to offer her up as a living sacrifice to these two young boys at once? He was exhibiting her as a mindless piece of property, forcing her into both intercourse and fellatio simultaneously.
Oddly enough, it no longer mattered. The alcohol, the hashish and the shattering orgasm she'd just experienced had all conspired to rob her of the last vestiges of inhibition and concern. Lust engulfed her in a shroud of insatiable desire, and she was prepared to allow and even encourage whatever perverted scenes her demonic young Svengali might order for her.
She was dimly aware of three voices echoing hollowly in her ears as the initiates argued with their guide about positions and procedures.
Finally, the two Perrera-directed boys climbed on the bed beside her and assumed their starting positions at the gates of her mouth and cunt. She was log-rolled onto her belly by eager, inept hands. Her thighs were guided up under her, so that she was jackknifed on her knees and elbows, leaving her naked asscheeks thrust defenselessly up into the air for all to see.
She opened her eyes to see what was what and who was where. The first picture before her was the slender cock attached to the dull-witted Dwayne Berman. She looked up at his face. The kid looked at her sheepishly, then gave her one of his Mortimer Snerd-like grins. By an easy process of elimination, she figured the Humpty-Dumptyish youth for the rear. Arnie Taggert had elected to fuck her from behind, in the humiliating doggy position.
The blimpish boy sagged against her back. She gasped as she felt the helmeted head of his circumcised penis pressing between her trembling ass-cheeks to make shocking contact with her already cum-filled pussy.
Then the voluptuous art teacher inhaled her breath sharply as the egg-shaped young teenager scooted forward on his pudgy knees. The disturbing sensation bought a sharp gasp from the woman's throat. She hadn't noticed the fat boy's cock before, but as she turned around to look, she saw that it was a blood-filled leviathan, already slippery and glistening with the lubricating secretions generated by sexual excitement. The Loch Ness monster squirmed against the wet walls of her sex cavern, eager for admittance. All that food hadn't lodged in his waistline and his puffy jowls some of it had obviously been distributed to his cock! How would she ever be able to accommodate such a piggishly huge penis?
Yet, the sheer enormity of the heavily hardened young cock that prodded so pruriently against her quivering pussy lips evoked a regenerating wave of excitement to stir deep up in her belly, despite or perhaps, because of the thundering orgasm she had just experienced when the first boy fucked her.
She wanted it. Large as it was, she wanted it fucking far up inside her hotly demanding pussy, and she eagerly screwed her buttocks back to the marauding magnum of flesh until the pulsating cock-head split the sticky lips of her pussy mouth and wormed its way snake-like up into the velvet folds of flesh. Deeper and deeper went the burrowing tool until it was two thirds of the way up inside the liquidly clinging walls of her cunt.
She had momentarily forgotten the unintelligent boy whose contrasting cock was waiting for admittance into her mouth. She heard the nervous boy say, "Miss Warner...uh..."
For a moment the drug-dulled woman was uncomprehending. It was another surreal vignette: the living nursery rhyme behind her, implanting in her a penis that, judging from the way it was stretching her tight little cunt, was of prize-winning proportions...and in sharp contrast, the Porterville boy whose penis was only slightly larger than his pathetically small Intelligence Quotient. It would have broken his heart to have her say it, but his little prick was hardly a mouthful bite-sized was the word. She could just be thankful they hadn't decided to reverse positions! She imagined herself as a spirit ascended from her lifeless body, reading the coroner's pithy report: Death by strangulation. Weapon: Caucasian male penis; circumference: four inches, length: ten inches. Victim's age: 30 years. Suspect's age: 14 years. Instrument of death has been remanded into suspect's hands. Suspect has been remanded into custody of juvenile authorities. Case dismissed due to shrinking evidence.
With a soft mew! of acquiescence, Lorie lifted up her head and smiled a signal for the boy to put his little protuberance in her mouth. He either did not understand the nod of her head, or else he was too bashful to do the thing he had been directed to do. So she reached up and took hold of the softly bobbing cock with one of her hands. The youngster tensed at the touch of her hand on his sensitive flesh. His face turned crimson. Then she made a purring sound in her throat, which became a groan as Arnie flexed his penis inside her. Managing a sultry smile despite the pain-pleasure sensation the fat boy's cock created in her, she took Dwayne's cocklet and guided it up between her tightly oval lips, swabbing it softly with her tongue.
The boy let out an oafish grunt and his eyes grew huge. He was momentarily taken aback. Then, his body trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement, he placed his hands cautiously in the tousled waves of the teacher's short, blonde hair and held her face against him as he gave a short, forward thrust with his hips.
Lorie made a muffled moan at the boy's sudden display of aggression as she felt the slender shaft of his rock-hard little cock plunge deeper into her mouth. Then Arnie groaned behind her, thrusting his own loins eagerly forward and ramming the enormously distended hardness of his own penis even deeper into his teacher's lewdly filled vagina.
"Give her hell, you guys!" came Richie's voice through the hash and alcohol fog.
After that, all became a jigsaw puzzle of a thousand unplaced pieces. She heard the two participants and the two observers' further exclamations of excitement and triumph. She felt the motions of the two boys fucking into her mouth from the front and into her obscenely ravished cunt from behind. She felt the lewdly shocking thrust of their cocks in merciless synchronization, plunging again and again into her two cock-filled orifices. She was buffeted helplessly between them, being pawed and pummeled like a rag doll, no longer able to distinguish which hands belonged to which youngster. Everything melded together into a surreal montage of lust and humiliation and wanton, masochistic bliss.
Behind her Arnie grunted and groaned his obscene excitement at fucking his teacher in the dog-fashion position. He could look down between her two circumflexed ass-cheeks and vividly detail each entry of his blood-engorged cock into her little hair-lined cunt. He also had an unrestricted view of the hairless, puckered hole of her anus, and he thought he had never seen such an excitingly forbidden sight in his life. It gave him a raw sense of power to have her in this position before him. He had never in his life dreamed that fucking a woman could be so much fun.
Dwayne was no less excited by his own experience. His reaction when Richie told him earlier that he was going to get a shot at the art teacher was one of confusion and fear. Sure, he had thought about sex before, but it seemed something remote in his mind. Girls, sex...what was it all about anyway? Sex was the great unknown, something people did to have children, though he wasn't sure how. Now here he was without his clothes on, being sucked by an older woman!...by a woman who was probably old enough to be his mother, although his mother was ancient. She had gray hair and wrinkles, and walked with a limp. In fact, Dwayne's married brother was probably about Miss Warner's age. He was pretty old, too.
But he got a feeling of excitement and confidence that he never had dreamed was possible when Miss Warner had taken his cock into her mouth! He was amazed and excited almost beyond belief at the sight of her groveling below him, sucking him without restraint.
Richie squirmed in the big chair, his erect cock bulging from his Levi's. He felt like he could cum just sitting there watching the whole lewd display. He had engineered it all, he was the boss; he was calling the shots. He got a perverse satisfaction from watching his "mistress" being fucked piss-less by his two buddies. That'll teach her trying to meddle in his life...having the gall to pity him because he was a minority kid with a lousy upbringing. What the hell did she know about life anyway? She was some weak-kneed little wasp who went through life wearing a robe and halo, bestowing her goddamned charity on "unfortunates" like himself. He was going to expose her for what she was: a self-deluding hypocrite and...a whore! Why didn't she have the strength to stop him? Why was she letting him use her so callously? Why was she so hungry for affection that she'd consent to anything he asked of her, no matter how much it cost?
A bony finger of guilt poked at his conscience. He couldn't allow it to pierce his well-constructed defenses. Quickly he reshaped the finger of guilt into a thumb of contempt. He had to despise her in order to preserve his faltering self-respect. He had to block any sentiment that would weaken his resolve...
Yeah. Miss Warner...Lorie...was just a juicy cunt and a cock-sucking mouth. Screwing her, and turning his friends onto her for a gang-fuck, had been one of his greatest triumphs over "them".
Brooks had dressed and was watching the lewd gang-fuck with curious interest. But he was satisfied now, and he knew he wouldn't get another piece for the rest of the night. In fact, he thought, he had better be getting back to his own cottage pretty damned fast, before the proctor woke up and found him missing. One thing was certain, though: he was going to want it again tomorrow, and the first chance he had, he was going to be working on Miss Warner, trying to convince her to let him fuck her again. After tonight, it shouldn't be that difficult.
For a few minutes longer, Lorie squirmed and writhed and sucked as she was fucked wildly from both ends by the two boys. But the depraved abuse of her body between them had completely destroyed her resistance, and now the desire that had regenerated itself in her loins was even more urgently demanding release. She had never felt so soiled and degraded in her life. But, by the same token, she didn't think she had ever done anything so exciting in her life as to submit to the obscene group orgy Richie had chosen to inflict upon her.
She could feel the electric current flowing between her lust-tortured thighs and she knew it wouldn't be long before she got the satisfaction she so desperately needed once again. She sucked ravenously on little Dwayne's thumb of a cock, hungering for the fresh-tasting sperm she knew was going to come spilling forth any moment from his hotly throbbing penis. She drove her buttocks furiously back against the beefy loins of the lurching and lunging fat boy behind her, taking the massive hardness of his over-stuffed penis deeper and deeper into the tender moistness of her cunt, relishing the raw penetration and the stinging slaps of his loins against her nakedly upraised ass-cheeks. She was being used obscenely by the two boys at once, and she was loving it.
Then suddenly an even more lascivious tremor coursed through Lorie's trembling body as she felt Arnie stiffen behind her, his cock flexing even more rigidly up into her open vagina.
"Oh!" he grunted. "I think I'm going to cum."
"I'm gonna cum, too!" chimed the oafish Dwayne. He seized Lorie's ears in his hands and held her against his slender loins, his tiny, fleshy worm thrusting avidly in and out of her mouth. Lorie wanted to cry out her own need, but she was as helpless as if she had been bound and gagged. She could get no intelligible words around the penis which sawed relentlessly against her lips and tongue. There was no way to communicate her own longing to the two boys who were obscenely fucking her between them except to suck more savagely at Dwayne's cock in front, and to screw her ass even harder back against the fat boy's heavily torpedoing cock from behind.
Then it began. Arnie fucked into her mercilessly with a powerful thrust that sent her face farther into Dwayne's loins. At the same instant, the first drops of the young boy's hotly erupting cum came spurting out from his small cock and into her eager mouth. Lorie sucked lustfully on the flailing penile shaft as the boy groaned soul fully and ground his loins spastically against her face. The fat boy groaned behind her at the same time as he began to shoot his hot load of semen into her feverishly absorbing belly. He put all his considerable weight behind the series of violent lunges against her as he pumped gush after gush of the obscenely spewing cum far up into the naked depths of the art teacher's gratefully accepting pussy.
And as the two youths simultaneously shot off into the nakedly kneeling woman's two cock-filled orifices, she felt the crescendo of furious passion score her loins with another body-wracking orgasm. The two youngsters continued to buffet their teacher's body wildly between them until every ounce of their scalding young seminal fluids had been spewed out into her mouth and cunt, while she continued to be engulfed by the electrifying orgasmic waves surging through her own limbs, washing away everything from her mind except the sheer ecstasy that almost caused her to lose consciousness.
At last the two minors sagged tiredly and withdrew their shriveling penises from her sperm-filled vagina and lips. Lorie sank heavily down on the mattress, her eyes closed in half-conscious delirium. She lay there, basking in the warm afterglow of sexual ecstasy and almost drifted off to sleep. Then something caused her to open her eyes. When she did, she saw Richie beginning to undress.
"Oh yes how could I have forgotten," she said dreamily. "Act Three the scene where the director takes the ravaged heroine in any one of the novel and perverted ways his cunning mind can devise. Ready when you are, C.B."
"I hope you like surprises, Teach," he said. She was stunned with incredulousness. "You ask me that at a time like this?" she offered ironically.
Richie felt his heart beat faster at the sight of Miss Warner lying in total naked subjugation before him. He knew she hadn't experienced anything like this before in her thirty years of sheltered womanhood. She must never have dreamed that she'd let herself be screwed by two boys at the same time. It was obvious that she'd never smoked dope. Most likely she'd never submitted to the kind of surprise he had in store for her. Neither had he, for that matter. Though he was a little apprehensive about going through with it, he knew he had to. He'd always secretly wanted to try it, and he knew it would blow everybody's mind especially Lorie's.
Lorie waited in complete surrender on the wrinkled bed. She'd never felt so soiled, so used in her life nor so satisfied. During the ravisliment she had been subjected to, first by Brooks, then by the other two boys, she'd completely lost track of time. The effects of the Scotch and the hashish still lingered. Undoubtedly they both contributed to her distorted perception, as well as to her heightened sensual awareness. She had never experienced such rousing climaxes in her life as the two which had cum seemingly one right after the other. She'd finally let her body surrender to her lust and ceased her mental resistance to the forbidden and masochistic pleasure she received from her wanton degradation at the hands of the three boys who had already fucked her.
And now the fourth, Richie, was stripping off his clothes in preparation for the culmination of his exhilarating conquest. In spite of the orgy she had already participated in, in spite of the degradation, in spite of the satiety, the thought of Richie Perrera once again pressing his maddeningly desirable young body against hers began to fill her spent body with another surge of raw lust.
Richie tossed off his pajama top and kicked off his shoes, then quickly began to undo his fly. He could see the gleam of interest in the blonde woman's green eyes as she rolled over onto her back to watch him undress, and he knew there would be no resistance from her, regardless of the indignities he subjected her to. Her ripe flesh was faintly shining with perspiration that clung to her milk-white skin in tiny, transparent beads. She was breathing coarsely, and her fully rounded breasts heaved upward with each heavy inhalation. Her shapely hips undulated slowly and sensuously on the bed in anticipation of the continued orgy of lust as she waited nakedly for him to ravish her. Her body was an open invitation, a party at which he was the guest of honor.
Then slowly the boy-man dropped his pants, revealing his handsome erect cock and his taut testicles in all their naked glory to the passionate teacher who lay on the bed. He wasn't wearing undershorts, and the surprise of that naughty little gambit evoked an audible gasp from the young woman's throat. Richie was, by far, the sexiest kid she had ever known.
She licked her lips and swallowed hard. "Don't keep me waiting forever," she purred in a come-hither voice. Her eyes were glazed with lust for the macho youth and she was consumed with longing for him.
Lorie couldn't even believe it herself. After all the perverted experience that she had subjugated herself to, she was again on fire with a rampaging need. She wondered if the hashish weren't an aphrodisiac.
As Richie dropped down to his knees on the bed between Lorie's parted thighs, he gave her one of his inscrutable, melting smiles. Then he turned slowly to look at the other faces in the room. They looked exhausted, beaten, spent. But there was an undeniable flicker of lust in their eyes.
Lorie noticed it too, and it only reminded her of the sheer depravity of her actions. But there was no going back. After tonight, she would never be the same again anyway. Now the very perverseness of her sexual caprices only whetted her long-suppressed sexual appetites. Now she wanted more and more of the lustful subjugation. Now there seemed to be no limits to the needs and desires that controlled her.
And Richie the little bastard was the catalyst. He opened the floodgates of carnal desire and he, as well as she, would be inundated by her insatiable sexual cravings.
Trembling with her desperate desire, Lorie reached up with both arms to the naked teenager's shoulders and pulled him forcibly down towards her. She arched her hips and rotated them in an eager, obscene undulation as she stretched her thighs wide apart and prepared to receive her boy lover between them.
Richie was momentarily tempted to forget his plan. The art teacher was ready to fuck she needed no further preparation, and he was so excited from having watched her get fucked by the other three boys that he would almost have been satisfied just to stick his cock in her, fuck her ass off, and let it go at that. But that would have been anticlimactic. It would have relegated his role in this debauching ceremony to a position of secondary importance. He demanded more of himself than that. His young protégées expected more of him than that. This was still his show; he was the Director, and he was determined to upstage the other players, even though it meant resorting to something that shocked and frightened him almost as much as it would Miss Warner.
Richie resisted her attempt to pull him down on her. Slowly he eased away from her, and Lorie let a low moan escape from her lips as she felt the rigid cock retreat from the soft furry nest between her thighs. She opened her eyes wide and looked at him uncomprehendingly. Was he going to deny her? Was he going to taunt her, to make her beg him to fuck her? That was too much. That was the final, pitiless indignity he could bestow; that would be the crowning act of contempt.
Richie grinned at her in mocking triumph, then let his eyes slowly descend the length of her glistening, sensuous body, roving between her plumply spherical breasts, then across the smooth, flat plane of her belly, and...down between her thighs, where he could just distinguish the tiny tip of her clitoral bud between the pink seams of her already cum-flooded pussy. Her light blonde cunt hair was dewy with the residue of her own lubricating juices and the cum from the fucking of the other two boys. It only compounded his reluctance to go through with what he'd planned. But he knew also that her awareness of those factors would only make his overture more shocking in her eyes.
Suddenly he moved toward her again, dropping his face eagerly to the nakedly up-thrust mounds of her breasts. He felt her body tense at the first contact of his lips and tongue on one of her rigidly swollen nipples. She sighed deeply, dropping her buttocks back on the bed, then arched her hips upward again as Richie slid even lower. His tongue etched a path of fire over the sensitive area beneath her heaving breasts, moving gradually lower down her belly toward the neat little navel.
"Yes, yes," she encouraged, still not realizing what the young man intended to do. Her hands roamed over his muscular shoulders, urging him on towards his unrevealed destination.
Richie flicked his tongue teasingly into Miss Warner's abdominal crater, prompting an even more enthusiastic moan from her lips. Then he hesitated again, taking a deep breath. He could smell a strangely pungent odor that beckoned him like a Circe to her loins. There was another odor, too. He knew that to be the smell of semen because he had smelled his own often enough. If he went through with his plan, he would taste the cum his two friends had spewed out into her vagina, as well as her hotly mingling cunt juices.
For another brief moment he was actually tempted to back out. He had never performed cunnilingus the medical term, unless he was mistaken, for eating pussy. But he'd always been curious. He had heard his older friends talking it up when he was still on the streets and raising hell. The guys told him how much women liked it. It seemed to him that if a guy expected a woman to suck him off, it was only fair to do the same for her at least once in a while. But thinking about it and doing it were two different things. It would take all the courage he could muster to go through with the act himself. But if he backed out now, he would lose all respect for himself. He had to do it.
He took another deep breath, and then he took the plunge.
Lorie's body stiffened as Richie's face dropped lower between her thighs. She had never felt anything so exquisitely pleasing in her life as his tongue licking on the sensitive skin of her belly and his thick, dark curls tickling her inner thighs. But still she hadn't come to an awareness of what was actually happening. It was only when she heard Arnie Taggert's sudden exclamation of surprise that the shocking truth finally dawned on her.
"He's going to eat her!" said the fat youth.
Lorie's half-closed eyes suddenly opened wide. She stared up in shock at the three boys who were watching the obscene display with looks of unbridled lust on their faces. Then she looked down to see the dark curls of Richie's head move lower down her belly. At that instant she felt the sudden shattering contact of his tongue on the already tingling bud of her distended clitoris and she almost passed out from the devastating sensation that darted through her whole naked body. It felt better than anything she'd ever experienced in her whole life, and in spite of her feeling of embarrassment, Lorie's first impulse was to push the boy's head even lower, to part her thighs even wider to give his laving tongue even greater access to the forbidden fruit of her desire-ripened pussy.
But it was too depraved. She just couldn't permit it. Never in her life had Lorie allowed anyone to do this to her, and the fact that she'd already been fucked in her cunt by two other boys only compounded the crime of lust. No, decency demanded that she resist the obscene assault no matter how badly she might want to yield to it. With a low cry of protest, she slipped her hands beneath Richie's shoulders and desperately tried to tug him upward.
"No, Richie, no!" she gasped, her whole body contorted in a posture of gyrating passion from the maddening assault on her defenseless genitals.
Richie closed his eyes and shrugged off her hands as he buried his head salaciously between her thighs. Now he could really smell the tantalizing scent of her nakedly spread cunt and the oddly inviting aroma of her loins, and the proximity of his tongue to her succulent pussy flesh made him shudder with excitement and apprehension. But he had to do it. He had to lick her cunt, no matter how nervous the prospect made him, because he knew that, in the long run, it was the best way to complete his triumph over the older woman.
After another short hesitation, Richie burrowed his long wet tongue deep up into her teacher's moistly pulsating pussy lips, in spite of all her efforts to restrain him. Lorie gasped, her buttocks arching involuntarily and her thighs parting even wider as she felt Richie's tongue flick into the softly curling strands of her pussy hair. Then suddenly it whipped between the elongated lips to find renewed contact with the sensitive little bud of her clitoris.
"Ooooooh!" she gasped aloud from the sudden electrifying contact. A shiver darted out from her loins, spreading through her naked belly and up to her swollen breasts and the apex of her nipples. It moved down to her knees and her calves and her ankles, so that even the tips of her toes seemed to curl and tingle with the spidery sensations telegraphed by the movements of Richie's tongue on her pussy tit.
Then, as she quivered in helpless anticipation beneath him, spontaneous moans of passion pouring from her throat, he moved his hands up the straining tendons of her inner thighs and with a deliberate motion, pulled the softly moistened flanges of her cunt lips apart to expose the glistening, forbidden furrow. Groaning hungrily, Richie swiped the full length of her wildly throbbing vaginal slit with the damp swab of his tongue.
A deeper moan issued from her lips as she jerked her body in a sudden convulsive movement, her buttocks grinding down spontaneously against the mattress to escape the maddening sensation of his depraved attack. Then with a soft sucking of his lips, Richie drew the throbbing, cum-slickened bud of her clitoris wetly between his teeth and caused Lorie to moan even louder from the provoking action.
"Wow!" Arnie cried, his face flushed with excitement. "Look at Richie go!"
"Look at Miss Warner go!" Brooks paraphrased. "He's driving her out of her gourd!"
"Yeah, he sure is!" Dwayne seconded.
Lorie stared in dismay at the feverish faces of the three boys. Then she closed her eyes, dropping her head back to the carpet, her hands beginning to sensuously massage Richie's olive-skinned shoulders as he intensified his wanton attack on her helpless loins.
"Ooooohhh!" she gasped, hardly able to believe the excruciating sensations of pleasure that surged out from her genitals as Richie's tongue flicked deeper into the quivering tightness of her cunt. It felt like nothing she'd ever known in her life, and the stropping softness of his tongue was such an exhilarating contrast to the hardness of Arnie Taggert's dirigible cock that she could hardly bear the exotic sensations that renewed her loins with lustful longing. Richie was now immersing himself whole-heartedly in the obscene act of tongue-fucking, licking deeper and deeper into her tender vagina, sucking harder and harder at the throbbing little nipple of her clitoris.
Then, as an even wilder chill shot through her and she closed her thighs tightly up around Richie's ears to hold his face to her loins, she twisted her body on the floor and reached down between her young lover's thighs to seize the lustfully swollen shaft of his erect penis. With little thought to what she was doing, she began to tug on it, urging him to reposition himself so that she could suck his cock while he was licking her cunt.
Richie's moan at the contact of her hand on his penis was completely muffled, but he got the idea, shocking as it was to him. He hadn't expected it, but he wasn't about to resist.
Richie shifted around, never removing his face from between Lorie's loins, and to the excited exclamations of the three boys who watched, mounted the art teacher in reverse angle. His face was still nestled snugly between her thighs, but his own erect cock was pointing straight down at her beautiful face.
"Now, Richie," she moaned deliriously, "fuck me in the mouth!"
In spite ,of all his pent-up bitterness and resentment, Richie couldn't quite resist the temptation to swell with pride as he heard the desperate plea from the art teacher. She was giving something to him that she knew he welcomed, she wasn't just taking. Much as he hated to admit it, he had to say that she was really quite a woman underneath that do-gooding garbage. (From that moment on, everything was just sheer, lust-driven experience. He ceased to reason when he lunged his hips suddenly downward and felt her guide the shaft of his cock straight to her hungrily waiting mouth.)
He heard her muffled gasp as he rammed his cock brutally down into the teacher's throat, feeling at almost the same time, the first pre-orgasmic quivers begin in her loins. It excited him, and he continued his depraved licking and sucking of her cunt as he began to fuck her mouth in earnest, sliding his slick shaft in and out of the liquid depths of her throat with smooth, rhythmical strokes. He didn't bother to control his heated movement, knowing that it wouldn't be necessary to hold back his own orgasm. She was too far gone, too close to cumming for him to have to play the gentleman.
Lorie trembled ecstatically beneath the ruthless assault. Little muffled whimpers poured from her lips as Richie drove his cock swiftly in and out between them, thrusting his impaling prick all the way down the length of her tongue as he continued the maddening invasion of her pussy with his own hotly licking tongue. She was going out of her mind. The climax was already stirring in her belly and she couldn't stop it even if she had wanted to.
Lorie continued to quiver and quake for a few more moments, like a volcano that is about to erupt. She tossed her head wildly in wanton abandon, caught in the throes of passion and in frantic need of orgasmic release. She sucked ravenously on her boy lover's cock, desperately thirsting for his hot, creamy young cum.
Then a sudden, violent spasm wracked her body. Another deeply muffled groan issued from her throat and she squeezed the boy's head tighter between her thighs, her naked buttocks pitching and rolling as the shattering waves of pleasure crashed in her loins and spilled over her belly and rolled along her breasts and her thighs and to every extremity of her body. Her violent release released the violent storm in Richie's body, sending hot torrents of creamy cock juice spurting out into the wantonly sucking woman's ravenously milking mouth. Eagerly she sucked and swallowed the salacious shower of semen, gloating gleefully as the hotly cascading jism glided down into her gullet below.
The two mismatched lovers continued their frenzied tonguing of each other as they writhed and moaned and contorted together in front of the pop-eyed, slack-jawed initiates. Then, as though given a silent cue, they both sagged with exhaustion qn the accommodating mattress. Lorie gave a little whimper of protest as the boy withdrew his still-hard cock from her mouth. He pivoted on the bed, as though to get up. He looked at her very enigmatically for a moment. Then he did something else that threw her completely off guard. She felt a lump in her throat, a small tear threatened to surface, as Richie bent down and kissed her very warmly on her cum-smeared lips.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lorie was busy tidying things up in the arts and crafts workroom. There was a big student exhibit coming up the following Sunday. Not only parents, but townspeople and correctional officers, as well as many of those who had served on committees and collaborated on the planning and construction of Porterville Youth Ranch were expected to show up. There would be an auction of the inmates' work, with half of the money going to Vocational Rehabilitation Fund, and the other half to be put into private trust funds for the individual student artists. Lorie was excited about the exhibit. This was her baby, a project that she had conceived and fought long and hard on. It had been really tough to convince the stodgy Warden Blanchard that this sort of undertaking had merit. Creative projects of this nature seemed frivolous, a waste of time and state money. The little bastards were here to learn a lesson by virtue of enforced incarceration and rigid discipline--they weren't here to paint pretty pictures and tie intricate knots and play with clay.
But after weeks and weeks of quiet but persistent argument, she had finally convinced the Old Man to give the project his stamp of approval. He had even begun to realize that is the art teacher could pull it off, it would reflect very favorably upon the administration at Porterville, and the administration meant Will Blanchard.
There was a quiet knock on the door. Lorie look at her watch: 6:30. Brooks was right on time. Of the four boys who had fucked her that Huxleyan evening, and quite a few times since then, Brooks was the most imaginative. There seemed to be no limits to his sexual curiosity, as well as his unbounded sexual appetites. Every day he had some kind of original plot to test on her. He was the only one of the boys she continued to make love with, other than Richie. Richie was Numero Uno in her life, and she had grown hopelessly enamored of the handsome youth. She marveled at his courage, his bravado, his ingenuity. She was thrilled with his artistic talent. He was sure to win first prize in the painting contest that was also an important integument of the student exhibit. Winning it meant a scholarship! He would be sixteen in a few months, which meant that he would either be transferred from Porterville to another correctional institution--a tougher one--or he would get a custodial parole; he would be free to move about in the world under the court-appointed aegis of a juvenile relations officer, since he had no parents.
She wanted that so badly for him. Nothing could please her more than to see that boy have an opportunity to justify the faith and trust she had placed in him.
She had even forgiven him for the awful betrayal. In spite of all her shame and humiliation at the things he subjected her to that night when he brought his three friends to the apartment, she had to acknowledge that it was in some ways, the best thing that ever happened to her. She had found a smoldering sexuality, a sensual proclivity that she had long suppressed in herself. She was fully satisfied, and it showed on her face and in the way she did everything. There was an ease, a carefree quality in her approach to life, and it reflected itself in a better communication with everyone at Porterville. Even the Old Man had noticed, and he evidenced his appreciation of her in a pithy compliment: "My, you're looking well these days, Miss Warner. You seem to be enjoying your assignments at Porterville."
"Yes, I am...very much so." she had responded, repressing a giggle. If he only knew just how much she enjoyed her "assignments!"
It would all come to an end, and soon. She knew that. She knew it would all come crashing down around her ears with a terrible cacophony of outrage and accusations. In fact, she was surprised it hadn't happened before now. But her persistent attempts to communicate with Richie on an emotional and psychological level were finally beginning to bear fruit. That was her justification for taking the enormous risks of exposure that she had taken.
Though Richie usually maintained his callous, indifferent exterior, he had dropped his guard a little bit on more than one occasion, showing her the sensitive person he was underneath the crude and well-constructed facade. When The Fall of Lorie Warner did come, she could still consider that the whole affair had been worth everything she would have to pay for it, and she would have to pay dearly.
But it was a coin with two heads--S physically she had never been so contented; spiritually and emotionally, she had never been so rewarded. The brash Puerto Rican kid had forced her to see herself for what she was--a hypocrite; a well-intentioned but misguided woman who was doing most things for the wrong reasons. He had, that fifteen your old kid, he had made her grow up. She would always be grateful to him for that. He had held up a pitiless mirror, and though .she winced at her reflection, she knew that seeing herself as she really was had enabled her to set about making the necessary rearrangements of personality that were obviously called for.
* * *
"Come in," she called out.
The shy twelve year old stepped quietly into the room and locked the door behind him. "Hello, Miss Warner." he said half apologetically.
"Hi, Brooks." she said cheerfully. She smiled warmly at him, relishing the boy's hungry gaze as he mentally undressed her. The excited twinkle in his eyes told her he had another perverted fantasy he wanted to make come true.
"What's on your mind today, Brooks?" she said playfully.
The boy hesitated for a moment, looking down at his shoes. "Well, you know this is our first day of freedom."
"Freedom? she asked.
"Yes, ma'am. Richie and I finally finished that damned paint job in the cafeteria."
"Congratulations." she offered.
"Thank you, Miss Warner." He hesitated again, then brushed the nonexistent lock of hair away from his forehead before saying, "I sort of thought...well, I wondered if we could try something different, to celebrate."
Lorie felt a little tingle of excitement in her loins. She would never cease to marvel at the boy's insatiable curiosity--children were terrific that way. He had used it to explore the variety of possibilities open to two people sexually. She had been so inhibited herself, had had so many taboos. Though it was inappropriate and out of context, she couldn't help remembering that line from the Bible: "And a little child shall lead them..."
"All right," she said softly. "What would you like to try today, sir?"
"Maybe I'd better show you," he replied.
"Very well. Lead on, MacDuff."
She followed Brooks into the storage and supply room, which was now quite crowded with paintings and sculptures and other products of furious, creative endeavor. There was barely enough room to lie on the big, foam pillows wedged between the canvases and macramé wall hangings. Those pillows had really seen a lot of action in the past couple of weeks, and so had the arts and crafts teacher! The battleground was stained with the issue of many exploits. She waited for her commanding officer's instructions.
Brooks began to unbutton his shirt. Taking her cue from him, she also started unfastening the buttons of her short-sleeved blouse. Undressing before Brooks was a ritual she thought she'd never tire of. Even now, though she'd revealed her luscious body to him many times during the last two weeks, she felt a forbidden twinge of excitement at feeling his bright eyes roving hungrily over her enticing, naked flesh.
The eager pre-teen wriggled hurriedly out of his jockey shorts. She unhooked her nylon brassiere, noting with approval that the boy was having no problem raising a hard-on. He hadn't been plagued with that problem since that first night he had fucked her in her cottage.
She sensuously peeled off her sheer, bikini panties in front of the excited youth and sat down languorously on the pillows, opening her legs invitingly to tease him with the wanton display of her naked cunt. His penis rose and saluted her appreciatively.
Lorie welcomed the slender boy in her arms as he again brushed the imaginary lock away from his brow and kneeled down between her legs. He kissed her...gently, at first, then with increasing fervor. A soft moan rose from her throat as she felt one of his small, warm hands cup each of her swollen breasts and eagerly massage the rosy aureoles before nursing on them with his boyish mouth. Then he let his tongue follow his hand down the sensitive plane of her belly, into the downy nest between her thighs.
She arched her body and rasped her breath as Brooks stroked the moist crevice of her pussy with both his finger and his tongue, then burrowed up into her vagina.
The boy continued the double manipulation of her excited genitals for a while longer, until her desire grew to dizzying proportions and her voluptuous body writhed in wanton abandon on the narrow bed of pillows. She couldn't wait any longer, she had to know his battle plan.
Panting excitedly, she gazed up at the clever youngster. "What are we going to do, Brooks?" she begged to know. "You said it was something different, but I can't imagine..."
"I want you to turn over on your stomach." he said.
A look of surprise, perhaps slight disappointment, crossed her face, but she obediently rolled over on her belly in response to the boy's request. A little moan of frustration issued from her throat as he drew his slender finger out of her grasping cunt. The action made a wet little popping sound. Then she moaned with delight as once again he blazed a trail with his finger from the top of her pussy lips down the slick trench, over the excited bud of her clitoris, past the Venus fly trap and on to the tiny puckered circle of her anus. She gasped again as the boy thrust the skinny prod inside her secret anal stockade.
At last she could no longer stand the suspense. She was certain he was going to fuck her dog-fashion, a thing they had already done on other occasions.
"But Brooks...you mean you're going to fuck me doggy-style? We've already done that."
"Not quite." he said enigmatically. Then he withdrew the finger from her anus and scooted around in front of her, so that his stiff little prick was bobbing enticingly just inches away from her mouth. "Suck my cock a little bit, please, Miss Warner, and get it all slippery." She complied without hesitation, still not comprehending what he had in mind. She leaned on one elbow and took the other hand and guided his hardened young cock into her mouth. Brooks lurched forward, gasping and grasping the sides of her blonde head with his small hands as he shoved his engorged young hardness deeper into her willing oral cavity. She licked around the tip of his heated organ, then made her mouth a sensuous oval and stroked the throbbing member with her wetly pursed lips. Brooks was so excited he could have popped off in her mouth. But he didn't want to. He just wanted to get his prick nice and wet and sticky with saliva and his own lubricating oils--so that it wouldn't hurt her so much.
The art teacher got so caught up in sucking the boy's cock that she momentarily forgot about his perplexing and undisclosed plan. Then just as confusingly as before, he abruptly withdrew the ripe banana of flesh from her mouth and crawled quickly back to his position behind her nakedly raised buttocks.
She reacted with surprise, frustration and confusion. What was he trying to do to her? Brooks was so sweet, so tender. He had never shown the slightest sort of sadistic behavior with her. Could this sort of teasing and taunting be the first sign of intended torment? That's not like Brooks!
Then he slowly stuck his finger into her crinkled little asshole again and slid it gently back and forth. Suddenly she got the horrible message. She couldn't believe it...It was to perverted for words. A spontaneous groan rose in her throat as Brooks pushed the finger in further. In spite of her efforts to contract the sensitive sphincter muscle around her rectum, the finger wormed slowly up inside her.
"Brooks...you can't mean..." She never finished the question.
"That's right, Miss Warner." Then he took a deep breath before completing the sentence, "I want to...to fuck you...in the ass!"
So it was true, she thought. Was there no limit to the youngster's perverted imagination? After everything else he had subjected her to, after all the kinky experimentation, he wanted to sodomize her too. He wanted to fuck her in the ass!
"Brooks, dear..." she began. "That's going too far. I just can't allow you to do that to me."
"Please, Miss Warner," the boy pleaded behind her. "I've been thinking about it ever since that first night at your place, when you had me stick my finger in there. I've read about it in a dirty book. People do it."
Despite her fear and apprehension, Lorie had to laugh. Brooks was something else!
"But Brooks, that's too perverted!" she protested.
"No it isn't, Miss Warner. I read about it in another book too--not a dirty one. That book said it's perverted only if it's used to replace sexual intercourse. This is not a replacement, it's just an alternative, a supplement."
The kid was one for the books. Twelve years old and two weeks beyond his first sexual experience with a woman and he was already begging her to submit to the most unnatural act of sexual perversion ever recorded in the history of mankind: sodomy. But the worst part of it all was that, in spite of her fear and shame, she too derived a perverse thrill from the thought of subjecting herself in this shocking and depraved manner to this adorable but debauched little sex fiend. It seemed so debasing, so taboo, that it became almost irresistible.
She could feel the pressure of Brooks' erect cock knocking at the little brown door. She groaned with fear and uncertainty as the boy pushed gently against her. Even that slight pressure was painful, and she was tense with anticipation of the horrifying ordeal to follow.
But there was no escaping it now. It was too late to protest, just as her other protestations had died stillborn during that night of narcotic madness. She couldn't thwart the boy's obscene intention to take her anally, "Greek style," as she had heard it referred to snidely before.
"Aaaaagghhhh!" she cried into the acoustical shield of the pillows as the forbidden little orifice was stretched wide for the first time by a cock head. "Aaaaagghhhh!" she cried again as she felt it ease inside the virgin cove. The sudden white-hot pain caused tears to flood her closed eyes.
She couldn't even contract her rectum defensively to ward off the unwelcome invader. The throbbing spear had gained entry to her posterior fortress, and now she had to submit to it fucking her there whether she wanted to or not.
She continued to sob from the pain as the conquering young cock slithered slowly upwards in the tiny rubbery tunnel of her rectum. She felt his hot thighs against her flanks as he skewered deeper and deeper up between her helplessly spread all-cheeks until he had impaled his heavily marauding young hardness to the hilt up inside her tightly clinging anal passage.
Then, to her surprise, she found that the entry wasn't quite as terrible as she thought. Once the initial pain of penetration had been experienced, once she had gotton accustomed to the shock of inexperienced sensation, she was able to relax somewhat, allowing another sensation--that of pleasure--masochistic pleasure--to temper the discomfort. The raw and forbidden violation fired her loins with desire. The very awareness of the unspeakable act inflamed her with lewd and lustful longing.
Then, as Brooks began to fuck slowly backwards and forward in her rectum, the soft clap of the tight sac holding his cum-laden testicles against the passion-filled slit of her cunt below distracted her from the pain, and tempered it to bearable proportions. Now her whimpers of pain and protest were gradually evolving into mewls of sodomistic passion.
Brooks grunted excitedly at Miss Warner's growing pleasure response. He moved his hand around her thigh to her soft underbelly and once more began to stroke the vertical slit of her pussy. He massaged the tiny mound between the secreting slit where the woman's nub of orgasmic pleasure was centered, evoking gasps and moans of expectant fulfillment from the sodomized art teacher. She reacted spontaneously with an upward thrust of her firmly curved buttocks against his sweating midsection, forcing his heated young cock to jerk up deeper into her assaulted rectum.
His movements were controlled, cautious, Miss Warner's asshole was twice as tight as her cunt, and so soft and hot and rubbery up inside! The depravity of it, the tightness...he wasn't going to be able to control himself for very long, but he was determined to do everything he could to make her achieve her own climax, even if he did shoot off sooner than he wanted to.
He probed her pussy with his finger and stoked faster along the throbbing little clitoral nub.
Lorie languished in a limbo of confusion for a few minutes. She could no longer distinguish between the pleasure and the pain, the sexual agony and the sexual ecstasy. At first she had dreaded the ordeal, she had hoped for a speedy end. But then she suddenly found her body beginning to demand more and more of the perverted torment, though her will and reason demanded it to stop.
There was a quality even to the pain that she found irresistibly exciting; a perverse appeal about the lewd act that beckoned as nothing else had. In a sudden unexpected gesture, she drew her knees up under her belly and rocked backwards, shoving her ass against him violently and forcing his cock deeper up into her inwardly sucking asshole.
Brooks was hardly able to believe his eyes as the teacher turned her face around to him--it was a contorted mask of lust, then she groaned in a quavering voice, "Fuck me harder, Brooks! Fuck my asshole as hard as you can!
Don't worry--I can take it...so shove it into me hard!"
That was more than he could handle. An instant later, fucking into her as hard as he could with long, ass-flattening strokes, he lost all control. His body quivered against the nakedly kneeling teacher's ripely grinding ass-cheeks. The passion-crazed woman was gyrating wildly, screwing her buttocks madly back around his virile skewering young hardness.
Brooks groaned as the hotly erupting liquid-passion of his balls began to pour out of his cock filling his teacher's now ravenously milking rectum with creamy, white cum in a lewd sexual enema. As he continued his wild flooding of her virginal receptacle, he felt her shuddering with familiar shivers of quaking orgasmic surges.
Cataclysmic shocks of pleasure shook her body. She gasped and moaned without restraint from the sheer bliss that consumed her. The pain was gone from her cum-filled rectum. She was engulfed in waves of sexual euphoria.
After moments of enduring delight, after the panting and the grunting had subsided to a more rhythmic and quieter respiration, Brooks sagged on top of her. "That was fantastic, Miss Warner!" he whispered appreciatively in her ear. "You're the most beautiful woman in the whole world!' he beamed. She was duly complimented by the twelve year old.
"Well you're quite a man too, Brooks!" she told him. Wow! From that moment on, Brooks was ten feet tall.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lorie Warner looked in the mirror as she put the finishing strokes of lipstick on her mouth. She combed her wavy, blonde hair, then stood there looking at herself appraisingly for a long, hard moment. She could see the sparkle in her eye, the glow in her cheeks, the contented expression that met her glance from the face reflected back to her. There was no doubt that she was a happier, more relaxed person than the one who walked up those steps to the big double doors of Porterville's main building a few months ago.
Meeting Richie Perrera, letting him make love to her and turning her on to juvenile sex with his friends was the odd thing that had brought her out of herself in ways she never, ever had expected. She didn't think of herself as corrupt, nor as a corrupting influence on the morals of these young boys. In fact, they taught her most of what she had learned about the art of lovemaking! They, especially Richie, and then Brooks, knew a lot more about it than she did. It was another example of the pupil teaching the teacher.
Yes, she smiled at her reflection, she was very happy at the moment. The exhibit was tomorrow. Everything was ready: paintings were hung, sculptures were mounted on tables and pedestals, the pottery and the weavings and the macramé all were very attractively labeled and displayed. The exhibit was sure to make a smashing impression on the invited guests. It would probably become an annual event at Porterville...though she knew she would not be responsible for next year's exhibit...that was too much to hope for under the circumstances. She just prayed fervently that Richie would win first prize in the competitive painting category, and the overall contest. He deserved it his painting was a Renoir-like portrait of a woman who bore a striking resemblance to his art teacher, except that the woman in the painting had dark hair and eyes. But the breasts thinly disguised under the romantic white camisole were unmistakably twin likenesses of Lorie Warner's ripely rounded bosom. It was a silent tribute to the thirty year old woman. She only hoped the facial resemblance would not be apparent to the warden.
There was a soft, familiar knock at her cottage door. A pang of excitement shot through her. That would be Richie...
She ran to the door and opened it. The beautiful youth gave her one of his melting grins. "Hi, Teach." he said. "I'm here for the anatomy lesson."
"Silly!" she giggled girlishly as she kissed him lightly on the cheek. He came into the room, a sketch pad under his arm and a couple of charcoal pencils in his hand. He was wearing his pajama top tucked into his Levi's. She knew he had nothing on underneath, and it excited her to think about his smooth, hard young cock, and his full testicles encased in the conflicting denim.
"You look beautiful, really beautiful tonight." he said sincerely, appraising her lush figure as well as her smiling face.
There was something about the way he said it that really touched her. Richie was never free with compliments to put it mildly. In all their nights of love-making he had never said any of the things she so desperately wanted to hear. He had never even said she looked nice, let alone "beautiful". The closest he came to anything reassuring was his occasional reference to her sexual capabilities, and that had made her feel more like an object than a person with a soul and an intellect and a deep longing to be loved by the boy she so desperately cared for.
He moved closer to her. "Kiss me, Lorie," he told her. She melted again. There were other sensations barking at her body besides those of lust. Eagerly she embraced the handsome youth, pressing against his broad chest with fervid emotion. He suddenly dropped the sketch pad and the pencils and threw his arms around her in a deeply meaningful embrace. He kissed her hungrily, but there was more than passion in his sensitive lips, more than lust in his caressing tongue. There was an integument of emotion, of feeling long withheld from her.
He drew back suddenly from her lips and looked at her in a way he had never looked at her before. His gaze was soulful, penetrating, enigmatic. Then a quixotic grin broke the spell. "Hey, Teach...let's get on with the figure drawing course."
Lorie was still dazed from the embrace and the kisses and his strange, new behavior. She shuddered with emotion. There had been something else in his eyes, a dusky portent of things to come, and it filled her with dread. Perhaps because they communicated to her in that one instant the thing they both knew but buried in a deep, dark corner of their sub-consicous minds.
Richie took his sketch pad and the charcoal and assumed his director's position in the big, over stuffed chair as she started to do a sultry strip tease before him. He made rapid sketches of her in various stages of undress. She couldn't see his cock bobbing under the masking wall of paper, but she knew it was flowering into another thrilling erection, and she would see it soon enough. It would suddenly burst from between the folded flanges of fabric and stare at her teasingly and temptingly while he lunged back into the chair, waiting for her to kneel before him and put her mouth around the palpitating organ, or straddle him and let the lubricated shaft slip into the sensual sarcophagus of her cunt.
"Pose for me, September Morn." he asked her.
She readily complied, slipping into a variety of positions as he did sketch after sketch of her into two minute intervals. She spread her legs languorously on the bed, one knee tucked under her, an arm extended on the pillow. She kneeled, like Psyche on the rock, and looked into an imaginary pool of water. She stood seductively with her hip thrust forward, like a Matisse odalisque. She turned her back and looked over her shoulder at him, like Sargent's "Egyptian Girl". Then she was a Modigliani portrait, Durer's 'Eve", Titian's "Dance" and a Degas ballerina.
The drawings mounted around his ankles like stacked leaves in autumn. Finally she asked, "Can the model take a break now, Michelangelo?"
"Sure, kid." he grinned without looking up. He was concentrating on the last drawing. She lay on the bed with her hands under her head, watching him. Then he put the drawing on the table, face down, got up and removed his clothes, and walked over to the bed, sporting a half-erection and a strange smile.
Without bothering to kiss her, he put his mouth between the soft folds of her breast and licked the sensitive cleft with his warm, wet tongue. She moaned in eager anticipation. Then he teasingly tickled the warm, rose-tipped nipples with the tip of his laving instrument. He lapped at the ripe flesh as a puppy would lap a bowl of milk, sending tingles of wanton desire through her breasts and down her belly to her hungering loins. Then his head moved lower, and he brushed her soft abdominal flesh with his dark, thick curls of hair. She responded by shivering noticeably and whimpering approvingly.
He scooted backwards on his knees, and she felt the fully hardened shaft in his groin brush the warm underbelly and tickle the sepia-colored cunt hair between her legs. More moans and shivers of excitement and delight.
Then he grasped her heated thighs gently in his hands and levered them further apart. With his fingers he spread the quivering lips of her pussy open wide, then planted a tender kiss on the little pouting titty of her clitoris. She squirmed and bucked involuntarily as the scintillating touch of his lips sent thrills coursing through her body.
Saying nothing, he renewed his knowledgeable attack on her slippery chute, lathering it with passionate tongue kisses and sucking the succulent tissue into his mouth. She groaned and writhed and uttered gasps of passion and desire. "Yes...oh yes, my baby. Do me...do me." she coaxed. Never, in all the times he had eaten her, never had he done it this well...with this much feeling and tenderness. That was the difference: tenderness.
Richie lifted the marble thighs high in the air, exposing the smoothly curved crevice of her ass and the soft little crypt of her anus to his lusting eyes. He looked at her widening eyes and gave her a sly smile. Then, still looking at her, he stuck his tongue out as far as it would go and wagged it in the air. She gasped with disbelief. He wasn't going to do that! He wasn't going to stick his tongue up in her back there!
Oh yes he was! Before she could protest, Richie thrust his wetly stiffened tongue tip up into the softly flexing lips of her rectum. There was a sharp, but pleasantly pungent taste, and it was an exciting one, too. After all, if he could eat her cunt after two friends had fucked their cum into her there, he could just as well stick his tongue in her asshole. That was the last venture into the sexual unknown, as far as he knew, except for the other thing...the thing Brooks told him about a few hours ago...He'd have to try that someday...But not tonight.
Lorie went wild under the forbidden invasion of his tongue in her openly flaring little anal mouth. She thought she had experienced every kind of sensation anyone could feel, but this was new, this was something out of this world. Not even the wild ass-fuck she had subjugated herself to earlier with Brooks could compare with this. This was heaven pure pleasure, without the masochistic pain. And it was made all the more rewarding because it was Richie's tongue, and Richie was the boy-man she loved.
The Puerto Rican Adonis continued to lap and prod into her rectum with his tongue. He was excited as hell too, but he wanted to give her this for free. He went again to her cunt, and licked and Frenched the palpitating Papillion between her down-lined pussy lips. Then he went back to her little brown asshole, and poked it some more with his tongue. Her legs were flailing wildly in the air as he held her up by the thighs, and he almost got pummeled by her heels a couple of times. She was going to cum any second, he could tell, and he swelled with pride at his latest coup it was damned rewarding to know you could satisfy a woman so well!
Lorie was kicking and bridling in the air, bouncing her head back and forth on the pillow, devoured by lusting and lascivious pleasure. Her body was on fire, and the holocaust was rampaging in her loins. Then it spread into every taut-nerved region of her body as the orgasmic conflagration roared within her and all hell broke loose in her body. Sheets of raging fire spread to every extremity. She was consumed with ecstasy as Richie continued to drive her wild with his hot and forbidden lickings and caresses up inside the hotly sensitive walls of her asshole. She was still shaking violently when he released her legs and crawled up between them to plant a passionate soul-kiss on her lips. She tasted her own secretions, both vaginal and anal, and it excited her again with perverted longing and surprise.
"That was for you, Teach." he grinned at her. "I owed you one, remember?"
She perused her mind for a clue. Then it hit her that first day in the supply room, when she had sucked him off...that's what he was talking about.
She hugged him to her, still shaking with emotion and with the lingering waves of her orgasmic release. "Oh darling...my darling, darling Richie." she whispered hoarsely. "Fuck me, darling. Please fuck me now. I want you inside me."
Richie kissed her passionately again, then scooted down on her body until his throbbing cock head was touching the warmly melting lips of her cunt. She gasped again and spread her perspiring thighs, inviting him to fuck her, inviting him to spew out his virile young seed far up into her welcoming belly.
Slowly, very slowly he guided the rock-hard shaft into the warmly waiting walls of her vagina. She moaned again and screwed her buttocks hungrily up onto the pacifying probe. Slowly again, he eased it into her, until it was deeply imbedded in the possessively clinging walls of her pussy. She thought she had never experienced such exquisite agony as the anticipation of the royal fucking she was to have came fully into focus. Prolonging the inevitable was a thrilling torture that fired her once again with naked desire. Another triumph for the conquering hero. She was gotten again. The teacher was being taught.
"Oh darling, I want you so badly!" she gasped at him. "Give it to me, darling...Give me your beautiful cock." she begged.
He began to fuck slowly back and forth inside her, confidently, rhythmically with smooth, long strokes. She met his thrusts with her own upward heaving motions. Gradually the tempo increased. They were in synch, totally compatible in the sensuous tango of sexual love. It was more than she had hoped for; it was a total involvement of minds, bodies and spirits, and she felt herself blasting off to a new planet where she had never been before. She had glimpsed it through a dark glass, but she hadn't been there yet. Now she was on her way.
On and on the young stallion posted on his lovely mare. They roiled and writhed and grunted and groaned and whispered obscene words of love to each other, until...he tensed significantly on top of her, and she answered his mating call with a fervent plea: "Oh fill me...fill me...fill me with your sweet, darling young cum!"
"Yes...yes...! " he gasped. "Take it, Lorie. Take it all, Lorie." And he poured out his bittersweet male juices far up into the impassioned woman's ravenously siphoning cunt, filling her with his hot creamy sperm and the telling witness of his orgasmic release. That was the fuel that fired the rocket that shot her into outer space and she soared dizzily into the greatest heights of cum-propelled ecstasy that she had ever known. She was not only full of her youthful lover's cum, she was full of love for him, and in those moments of renewed climactic fervor, she realized another dimension to the sexual design, a kind of spiritual fulfillment that abetted the electrifying climax and gave her total absolution from any remorse that she had previously suffered.
This is what it's all about, she knew at last. This is what it's supposed to be. She knew now that she would never again have sex with Brooks or any of the boys at Porterville. She was truly a woman now, and she couldn't play "student" or teacher to any youngster again.
"I love you, Richie." she said suddenly, unable to hold back the sentiment any longer. She hadn't wanted to actually say it not because she was ashamed to admit it to him, she was sure it was perfectly obvious anyway but because she feared it might cause a painful breakdown in communications. A boy like Richie probably couldn't handle such emotion, particularly from an older woman, a woman he had mistreated and misused. But it was said, and like everything else, there was no going back.
For a moment he said nothing. His head was nestled in her neck and she could feel his warm breath against her sensitive skin. Then he raised his head and gave her another deeply penetrating stare. She thought she saw the tiniest semblance of a tear in the corner of one eye. Then he kissed her again with great tenderness and longing and a kind of desperate regret. Moments later, he got up, went over to the chair and began to dress.
Lorie lay there watching him, admiring his smooth, muscled body. "I want to sculpt you some day," she said, voicing her thoughts.
"Why not?" he answered, not looking at her. Was he angry? she wondered.
"May I see your sketches?" she attempted.
"Sure." he answered laconically. He gathered them up and brought them in a neat pile over to the bed. He sat down beside her as she exclaimed and marveled at his artistic genius. They were only quick sketches, but they were brilliant. They showed an eye for form and a sensitivity that was beyond her own capabilities. "These are wonderful, Richie! They're marvelous!" she enthused.
He gave a kind of shrugging acknowledgement. "Let me see the other one, the one on the table. Or is that a reject?" she said, smiling at the youth.
He reluctantly got up and went over to get it, hesitating as he looked at it again. Then he crumpled it up and threw it in the wastebasket. "Yeah, it's a reject." he affirmed. When he finished dressing, he gathered the sketches up and put them neatly under the unused sheets in the drawing pad.
"Aren't you afraid someone will find those, Richie?" asked Lorie, a frown marking her brow.
"Naw." he grinned. "I have a secret hiding place for my things. Nobody's wise to it yet."
He didn't kiss her again, but went to the door and opened it a crack to check for spys. "By the way, Lorie," he said quietly, "I think it would be a super idea if you cooled it with Brooks, okay? You're my woman, ya know. If you wanna play house, you can play enough house with me." He was gone then, stealing furtively into the night like a cat, leaving her agape with amazement and stunned with the impact of his strong parting words. She would remember them the rest of her life, no matter how many men she ever slept with, no matter whether she married happily and became a nice little suburban housewife somewhere, no matter what ever happened to her again.
"You're my woman..."he had said. "You're my woman..."If she were to die at that moment, it would all have been totally worthwhile...It was the only way he knew to tell her he loved her...
It wasn't until the next morning that she remembered to look at the crumpled sketch Richie had thrown in the wastebasket. She gasped as she looked at it. There was a perfect caricature of Brooks, complete with horns and a tail, sodomizing a cartoon Blondie as Warden Blanchard looked on, a bullwhip in one hand and his gigantic prick in the other!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The hot, Nevada sun was up early, and so was Lorie Warner. She felt both nervous and excited. Today was the big day, the day she'd worked so hard for; the day the students had labored so diligently for. There were rumors that even the Governor might attend!
She carefully selected the green jersey dress the one she had worn that night for the "initiation" ceremonies...both hers and the three young converts to male-female sexual relations. She wanted to look her best, not only for the guests and the staff and the other students, but for Richie...This dress would guarantee it.
She breakfasted quickly at the cottage, which she often chose to do rather than to face the overly bright lights in the ranch cafeteria at eight o'clock in the morning. Sunday breakfast was at nine, followed by chapel, which was a little better. But she still preferred to greet the students at the exhibit rather than give away the surprise of her green dress in the lunchroom, where she would be just one of many sleepy-eyed people milling about with a tray of food and institutional silverware.
On her way to chapel she saw Jenkins, the math instructor. "Well, well, well...if it isn't the lovely Miss Warner, the pride of Porterville." he beamed. "Good morning." she acknowledged. God, how she hated that man's guts. There was something so slimy, so creepy about him. He even grimaced when he smiled, as though he were in pain. And sarcastic? Well! Everything he said was a sarcasm. But his remark still made her feel uneasy. Why did he have to address her that way?
She assumed a place on one of the hard, oak pews in the chapel. This was the protestant service; the Catholic mass had been said earlier, and she had seen the priest leaving the chapel when she entered it.
She looked around. There were all the familiar faces, including that of Brooks, who was looking at her very curiously. She smiled warmly at the young boy, but he looked at her like a startled fawn and quickly bowed his head to pray.
Warden Blanchard was there, too, reading the order of worship. He looked up at her furtively, then quickly looked down at his reading again. Oh well, he was a queer duck anyway, she thought. That sort of behavior didn't surprise her. Still, she couldn't help but feel a slight queasiness in the pit of her stomach. Was it her imagination, or was there something funny going on?
After chapel, Warden Blanchard approached her. as she stood on the step talking to one of the women proctors.
"Good morning, ladies." the Old Man said warmly. He sounded like a church deacon paying a visit to the shut-ins.
"Good morning, Warden." she responded, as did the other women.
"Miss Warner, could I speak to you for a few minutes in my office, please?" he asked her with unusual solicitude.
"Certainly, Warden." she replied. Why can't he talk to me right here, she wondered.
A few minutes later she was standing before the big, oak desk, waiting for him to be seated. The tall, portly man sat down heavily at his desk. He put his elbows on the dark green blotter and rested his chin on his hands. For what seemed like an eternity, he stared at her with piercing, narrowed eyes. He looked up and down her body, sending a suppressed shudder through her. He had never done that before! She had only caught him eyeing her like that once or twice when she had suddenly turned around to face him. At those times, he made it a point to blink and turn his head.
"What did you wish to speak to me about, sir?" she asked him. "I do have to get to the exhibit hall rather soon, you know."
"Yes, yes I know you do, Miss Warner." He looked at her for another painful moment, then he heaved a sigh and opened the center drawer in his desk. He never took his eyes from her as he reached in and slowly took out a sheaf of white papers that Lorie...recognized...as...the...sketch paper...from the...pad...that Richie...
"Oh my God, No!" she gasped in horror, putting both hands up to her mouth.
"Oh my God, yes...Miss Warner," the warden paraphrased, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! YES!" he boomed, laying a sketch on the desk before her with every "Yes." Lorie's eyes filled with tears, and she sobbed into her hands. The one concern she had was Richie what would happen to him now...what had happened to him?
"In all my years Of criminal work, in all my years of correctional work in detention facilities, I have never seen anything as reprehensible as this and I'm not talking about these pretty little drawings done by a mewling, teenage lothario, Miss Warner! I'm talking about the corruption of minors in a state institution! I'm talking about the seduction of these juvenile offenders by a trusted state employee who was hired in a judiciary and rehabilitation capacity by the State of Nevada to mold and encourage and help reform these unfortunate little snot-nosed bastards who are unlucky enough to be here in the first place!"
"The State of Nevada is paying you a salary to teach, Miss Warner, and that obviously does not mean to teach twelve and thirteen year old boys how to screw a woman!" he thundered, the anger blazing in his eyes like firing pistols.
What could she say? It was true. The warden was right. She was the adult, therefore she had the greater responsibility for her actions. And as far as the law was concerned, she had total responsibility for every sordid thing that transpired between her and those minor youths. She could be sent to prison! That hadn't really registered with her till now.
Lorie still sobbed violently into her hands. She couldn't look at the warden. She could find no words of defense. She didn't even have the guts to ask about Richie then. She knew it hadn't been him who betrayed her secret to the warden. Who was it? Arnie? Dwayne? Brooks?...
She felt a piece of cloth demanding attention at her face-shielding hands. It was a handkerchief, the warden's handkerchief. She gratefully accepted the truce offering, daubed her eyes and blew her nose. Then she hung her head in shame; she still couldn't face him.
He was speaking to her again. "I've given this situation a great deal of long, hard thought in the past few hours, Miss Warner. Legally, you know, I am empowered to send you to prison..." (Lorie blanched. She was trembling visibly.)
"But that action would only call this outrage to the attention of the authorities, as well as to the public at large. I've served my time, too, you know. And I'm not about to be drummed out of public service at this late day in life particularly under the shadow of scandal."
The warden paused. He explored her body with his eyes again. "I also considered another possibility...one that would certainly be beneficial to my..."interests", shall we say. You're a very attractive woman, Miss Warner. I have noted that fact from the beginning. In fact, I have long considered you an itch that I'd love to scratch..." (Lorie shuddered again.) "...But that's out of the question too, of course. Much as I'd like to have you "instruct" me on the fine points of female anatomy, my position as administrator of this institution forces me not only to abide by the laws of this state, not only to execute them for the benefit of the state and the juvenile offenders incarcerated here, but above that, to set an example...to be an exemplar, you might say. I am expected to exhibit the highest moral character possible. The same is expected of every other employee under my jurisdiction here..." (Lorie winced. The warden was absolutely correct.) "Naturally, I have carried out these moral responsibilities at some sacrifice to my personal needs and interests." (Lorie felt a twinge of pity for the big, older man. She'd never thought about him quite that way, as someone who needed love and affection and sexual satisfaction as much as anybody else. Of course it must be terribly difficult for him.)
"You know, Miss Warner," he continued, "I envy that little spic bastard in some ways, he's got the world by the tail. I'd give anything to have his talents, his cleverness, his youth...The boy could have a stunning future if he doesn't let his genitals get in the way. Nothing would please me more than to see Perrera get the hell out of Porterville and he will before too long. I just hope to God he doesn't wind up in the State pen!"
"Where is Richie? What are you going to do to him?" she asked anxiously.
"I'd like to beat the shit out him myself just between you and me, Miss Warner." the Old Man went on. "But that wouldn't help him or me though it sure would please the hell out of me, I must admit. But I can't conscientiously do that either. Perrera will spend some time in the meditation room, then he'll resume his normal schedule here at the ranch."
"But that's so cruel!" she cried.
"Is it really, Miss Warner?" the warden asked reprovingly. "Is it as cruel as what you've done to him?...exposing him to sexual experimentation with a woman twice his age...firing him up so that he'll be trying to violate every female person at Porterville?"
His words cut like a knife. Again the warden was right. In allowing Richie to degrade her sexually, in willingly participating in his sexual adventures, she had unwittingly abetted his further exploits, placing him in a position to risk further punishment!
"It's too bad, really. I've seen a change gradually take place in the boy, and I've no doubt that it's been due to your influence, your interest in him and I'm not talking about "bed" interest, though I'm sure that's taken some of the pressure off him. I think you have been a very positive influence on these kids. It's a rotten shame it had to end this way..."
"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes wide with fear. She felt nauseous.
Will Blanchard opened a side drawer in his desk, took out another sheet of paper and placed it before her. "I made a phone call to a friend of mine in San Francisco who heads up a home for the aged and infirm. He's agreed to take you on as a rehabilitation worker. It's a probationary type of assignment, Miss Warner. That is, you will be allowed to prove yourself there, providing they don't catch you beating off any senile senior citizens!"
"But..." she began. The warden cut her short.
"Please, Miss Warner. You're getting off easy. If it wouldn't reflect badly on me, I'd throw your enticing ass in jail! But one thing is certain you'll never work with teenage kids again not as long as I'm alive. Don't even try!"
"That's the worst punishment I could possibly have, Warden. You know that, don't you?" Lorie sobbed.
"Would you sign this for me?" he said, in a way that was more command than inquiry. She looked at the paper, more tears welling in her eyes, then she looked up again at the warden. "When do I have to leave?" she asked in a barely audible voice.
"Today...at five o'clock. I've arranged for a ride into town with a friend who'll be at the showing. You'll get a bus into Carson City, and from there, a plane to San Francisco. I want you out of the State of Nevada tonight, Miss Warner."
The warden held a pen up to her. With trembling fingers she dumbly took the ball point and scribbled something on the bottom of the page.
Then the Old Man reached in his breast pocket and drew out an envelope. "Here," he said, "This is in lieu of severance pay. Now go back to your cottage and pack your things. Our guests will begin arriving in about an hour."
Lorie paused at the door and turned to look back at the Old Man again. "How...how did you...find out?" she questioned softly.
"You really want to know?"
"Yes...please."
"Jenkins overheard a couple of the kids whispering about it in the horse barn yesterday. He set it up with the house proctor in Perrera's cottage. They followed him to your place and nabbed him on the way back."
She hung her head again and sobbed some more. She felt more remorseful then than she had felt during or after any of the sexual escapades with Richie or his friends. She had gotten him into this awful mess. Would he ever forgive her? Worse, would the whole episode implant his bitterness and mistrust of adults even deeper in him? Would he be permanently alienated from the law-abiding world?...Then another horrible thought struck her.
"Did Richie...was it him?..." she faltered, not wanting to verbalize her fear.
"Don't worry, Miss Warner. They got nothing out of your lover boy. They didn't have to. These drawings were evidence enough. These, and the Holliman kid's testimony..."
* * *
The exhibit was a great success. All sorts of people, including some press reporters and photographers, came to see the "student" work. Of course, Richie won first prize. She was thrilled and excited for him. This would mean an opportunity to continue his art studies, to make a name for himself in the art world perhaps.
She had little opportunity to talk to him, and she was grateful for that. They were separated by a sea of strange faces "oohing" and "aaahing" around each of them. She swelled with pride mainly for the kids. They had worked so hard for this. She felt it was enormously beneficial to them to have this kind of recognition and appreciation come their way.
But there were strained moments, too. From time to time she caught some of the staff members looking curiously at her and whispering behind their hands. The students looked at her strangely, too. She would see little knots of them giggling self-consciously as she passed by, then hear the sibilant sounds of youthful whispers in her wake. It was all a hideous nightmare come true, almost like Picasso's "Guernica". The thing she feared had become reality, though it had never been as terrible in fantasy as it was in actuality. It was all she could do to smile and be pleasant. She had to summon all her will to keep from bursting into tears at every moment, and she barely heard the many lavish compliments that came her way.
"You look quite pale, my dear." someone said. "Are you ill?"
"What?...Oh...yes...yes, I'm fine." she said, misinterpreting the question. "It's the excitement, I suppose..." Everything was a blur. She moved through events and people with no sense of time, with no clear perception of anything that was happening. It was all a dream...a terrible, terrible dream.
Suddenly she heard the warden's big voice calling for quiet in the hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, fellow staff members and students, I have a couple of important announcements to make. First of all, I wish to extend the congratulations of all of us here at Porterville to student Richard Perrera on his winning first prize in this competitive exhibit." (Hearty applause.) "He will receive a $500 Art Scholarship to any state-approved university of his choice upon achieving his legal majority at the age of eighteen. (More applause.) "Secondly, I want to extend the whole-hearted thanks of all those connected with this institution to our Arts and Crafts Teacher, Miss Lorie Warner, for the splendid job she has done in organizing this event, as well as my personal thanks for her considerable contribution to the vocational guidance and rehabilitation incentive program of the Porterville Youth Ranch facility." (More applause, coupled with some significant throat clearing from the staff and some more self-conscious giggling by the students.)
"It is therefore with deep regret that I make this next announcement." the warden continued. A hushed and breathless silence descended upon the assembled group.
"I have before me a letter of resignation that was tendered to me within the last two weeks by Miss Warner. I should like to read it to you now...'Dear Warden Blanchard: This is to notify you of my resignation as Arts and Crafts Teacher and Vocational Guidance
Counselor of the Porterville Youth Ranch, effective Sunday, April the twenty sixth. I have enjoyed my duties at this institution enormously during the past six months. However, I have just received an affirmative response to an application submitted to the Laguna Honda Home in San Francisco, California some months before undertaking my teaching duties at Porterville. I feel that the position with the geriatric patients in that lovely city would best suit my talents, temperament and capabilities at this time. Therefore, I respectfully ask to be extended the favor of terminating my services and responsibilities as a member of the Porterville staff. Thank you. Sincerely and respectfully, Lorie Warner. Carbon copy: Justice Alfonso M. Alvarez.' "
The big man cleared his throat. Throughout the room there were hushed comments. Lorie felt as though she had just been sentenced to Purgatory by a stern St. Peter. Then the warden spoke again: "Fortunately, I have been able to acquire the temporary services of a respected correctional educator, Miss Abigail Voss, who has graciously consented to come out of retirement and assume Miss Warner's duties and until a suitable replacement can be found. Miss Voss will be arriving in the morning. Now, I am certain that all of you here want to join me in wishing Miss Warner the very best of luck in her new post at Laguna Honda. And I can't think of a better opportunity than at the big buffet table at the end of the hall, where I invite you to join Miss Warner and myself for some of the kitchen staffs delicious punch and cookies."
* * *
The slender boy shifted nervously from foot to foot and brushed an imaginary lock of hair from his forehead as he stood by the brown station wagon, waiting for the blonde woman to appear. In his small, perspiring hand he held a plain, white envelope, unaddressed and already showing smudgy wrinkles from the anxious handling it had gotten. Suddenly the woman appeared, flanked by one of the house proctors and an unidentified man who was carrying her suitcases. Brooks felt an enormous lump grow to basketball-sized proportions in his throat. Unwelcome tears began to fill his eyes, and he desperately tried to wipe them away with his sleeve of his little-worn suit.
"Oh...Brooks." the woman said in a startled voice when she saw him. "I didn't expect you to be here."
"Miss Warner...I...I...Please don't hate me! I didn't want to tell! Honest, I didn't! They made me tell. . . they forced it out of me!" he cried, falling into her arms, his little body wracked with heartbreaking sobs. Lorie broke down, too, as she hugged the trembling youngster. Then she quickly remembered that she was holding him against her soft, yielding bosom! She almost pushed him away from her. She looked at him through tear-filled eyes. He was a dim blur of the boy she had frolicked with so wantonly before. He seemed years younger than his age, and she felt another torturing pang of guilt and shame for her lewd and obscene behavior with him.
"I know...I know, Brooks, and it's all right. It wasn't your fault. You've got to believe me when I say that. You're a fine young man, Brooks, and I shall never, ever forget you. I hope for absolutely nothing but the very best of everything in life for you, you deserve it."
"Miss Warner...eh..." the stranger's voice said. The man was looking at his watch. "It's a long drive, you know."
"Yes, of course...I'm sorry." she managed, regaining a bit of her composure. The house proctor put a motherly arm around the sobbing youth, then extended a hand to the blonde teacher. "Good-bye, Lorie," she said sympathetically.
A trembling handshake was all she could manage. Then she got quickly into the waiting station wagon. She couldn't bear to look again at the sobbing boy. He thrust something in the window and it fell to her lap. "H-here, Miss Warner. He wants you to open this later." Then the dusty, brown automobile pulled away.
It was only much later that evening, as she sat in the bleak and fetid airport waiting for her flight, that she had courage enough to open Richie's letter.
Tears came to her eyes, and she was choked with emotion as she read the neatly scripted missive:
Dear Lorie:
I don't know what to say, or how to say it exactly. Funny I've always been a fast-talking smart ass before. Maybe because I never worried about feelings. My own or anybody else's. But now...
You have done more for me than anybody ever did in my life. (And I don't mean physically though you know how I feel about that with you.) But in other things. You gave me something to shoot for...something to think about besides how to raise hell and get away with it. I realize a lot of things now that I didn't know before. That's really something!
I do care for you. Perhaps I even came close to loving you though I really don't know what that's all about. But I will someday. I know that now too.
I hope you can forgive me for all the rotten things I laid on you. (You should have kicked my ass good or had the Old Man do it!)
Maybe I'll get to San Francisco some time. They say it's really terrific there. Maybe you could drop me a line. I'm going to miss you a lot, Lorie. Take good care of yourself, eh? Love, Richie
The letter smudged under the drops of salty tears. She hugged the paper to her breast, and managed a smile which slowly grew on her lips.
It had been worth it! Everything she had gone through, the anguish, the remorse, the warden's reprisal all of that was relegated to a secondary position in her mind. She had helped salvage a worthwhile young soul, and that redeemed her for all her misdeeds. She could begin again. What's more, she knew that Richie Perrera was on his way to becoming a talented and law-abiding member of society.
