Never before in the history of this nation have the issues of sex and violent crime been so thrust upon the people. All the people! Everywhere! In the cities, the suburbs, the inner-cities, the super-rich communities, and in the most isolated rural areas. Sex and violent crime, as if by some remarkable rapport of their own, have joined in a partnership to create fear among the people. And, even worse, according to some authorities, the fear has created an attitude for repression and denial of constitutional rights among governmental agencies. Thus, fear has spawned an activist approach that might well in another decade or so ignore the human rights of American citizens.
We believe this issue of the Cameo Sex Behavior Editions is of vital current interest to every person who is intellectually curious about the life around us. We are presenting it in its entirety, as prepared by a lay author of long experience and insightful craftsmanship. In this text, we are foregoing our usual practice of injecting your editors' opinions, based upon our collective professional experience, into the text itself. Our reason is sound, we believe, for the case histories of violence and sex crimes, which appear in-depth within these pages, are of such a nature that any interruption of them might rob the reader of the communication that is intended.
You will find the case histories of this report longer than most. You will find them presented in a rough, two-fisted manner. How else can such subject matter be honestly communicated? And we are confident that you will find within the cases much that is important about the life around us the life that seems, at times, to be surrounded with the threat of personal violence.
Although names and locations and other data have been changed, many of the case histories herein may seem familiar. If they do, it's not unusual, for the cases have been developed from true life experiences have been narratively developed by the author from pathologist reports, police files, newspaper accounts, and from his own personal reportorial background: a background that has viewed the most sexually violent side of human life.
There is much to gain here, friends. Any communication concerning the times in which we all live is of immense value, for by the insights gained we, hopefully, learn how to better deal with the diverse elements of our own society.
The Cameo Physician-Editors
CHAPTER ONE: SODOMY, MURDER AND STRANGE RETRIBUTION
July 21, 1971 was recorded as the hottest day in the history of Marine County. The treacherous winding road to Stinson Beach was crowded with hordes of automobiles with city folks retreating to the beaches. Hal Goodman, driving his MG, thought it was much too hot to be working. But he had promised to drop off some important papers at the home of one of his clients. Hal Goodman was an accountant for J. H. Harrington Corporation. J. H. Harrington owned a beach home on the outskirts of Stinson Beach. Customarily, such a trip on a Saturday morning would not have been necessary. But J. H. Harrington was out of town on business. It was imperative that Goodman have Mrs. Harrington's signature on a series of documents. Hal Goodman would have much rather spent his day basking in the sun. In a strange way he resented wealthy people, in spite of the fact that he was himself in a higher income bracket.
Hal Goodman arrived at the Harringtons' home at 10:45. Mrs. Harrington was waiting for him on the patio. From the patio there was a splendid view of the ocean and the beach that stretched for miles in either direction.
"Isn't this a gorgeous day, Hal? I can't believe it's this hot. It must be over 90 degrees," said Mrs. Harrington. She sipped orange juice as she signed the last of the legal documents.
"You don't know how lucky you are to have this beautiful home on the beach. You have the whole Pacific Ocean for a back yard."
"Well. Believe me my husband and I worked plenty hard to get here. You remember that, Hal. If you want something in this world you have to go after it!"
The Harringtons' daughter, Sandy came onto the patio.
"Hi, mom! Hi, Mr. Goodman. Mom, I'm going down to the beach now. Okay?"
Mrs. Harrington looked up and gave a final inspection to the bikini her fourteen-year-old daughter was wearing. Mrs. Harrington, the strict mother, restrained her comments since Goodman was present.
"Where are you going, darling? Aren't any of your friends going along? You know I don't like to have you bathe alone." She turned to Goodman. "You see, we have to be careful. Most of this area is private beach-but the people have no regard for people's property so they intrude on our privacy. On days like today when it's so hot, we get flooded with drifters, and the likes. I don't like Sandy to sunbathe alone."
"Oh, mother! Who's going to bother me? Besides, I know a secluded place just down the beach. No one ever comes there. Okay?"
"All right. But don't stay out there too long. You know you burn easily. And be careful and take Chula along with you."
Chula was the Harringtons' German shepherd. Hal Goodman looked at Sandy and Chula trotting off down the beach. It was always a treat to see little Sandy Harrington. Each time he visited the Harringtons' home he became sexually aroused. Sandy might be only fourteen but she was a shapely little miss. When she first came out this morning in the orange bikini, Gordon nipped. There should be a law preventing girls as sexy as Sandy from wearing bikinis; especially if they were as well stacked.
Sandy Harrington had beautiful, curvaceous legs and the bikini encasing them made her look like a dream. He saw the bulge which told him Sandy must have a lot of pubic hair. Her cunny bulged so much that it appeared she had a penis down there.
Hal Goodman had thought about trying to fuck Sandy many times. Of course, there was never any opportunity. Although there had been times when the Harringtons left Sandy alone. But there were servants about. Yeah, but pussy like Sandy wasn't meant for people like himself. That was top-notch Grade-A stuff -that commoners had no right to. Then he thought of what Mrs. Harrington had said to him, "If you want something-you have to go at it!"
At 11:45 Sandy Harrington was seen going into the liquor store to buy cigarettes. She came out the store and double-backed toward the beach. The dog, Chula, ran playfully through the sand ahead of her.
Hal Goodman was not the only man who was aroused by young Sandy. Most of the neighbors along the Marina Coast had seen her strutting down the beach. That morning a great many heads turned in her direction. There was not a man she passed, who did not notice how she strutted her stuff. She was indeed a sexy package. The narrow waistline made her buttocks look all the more enticing. Her small behind swept low and cupped sharply into soft balls-buttocks that swished around inside her bottoms. They rotated as she emphasized the sway of her hips. The bikini was snug into her center and made her flesh bounce when she walked. The bikini was so sheer one could see where her vagina was a long slit burrowing into those sweet thighs.
The men she passed must have thought Sandy had a stick shoved up her rear, and she was stepping cool and easy, trying her best not to bruise anything. It was bad enough that her precious little buttocks were so round and soft, but they also quivered with her every step. She had a way of adding a little spice to her gait, that swished her fatty cheeks and set off the motion. Her tits would be repeating the motion, only in the reverse gear. Sandy Harrington was a symphony of sweet music being stirred up against her will; Mother Nature had given her a difficult course to travel. The sexuality of her young willing body said that her mind was weak-and ready to defect to her rebellious nature.
The sun was warm on her body as Sandy stretched out on a blanket. It was so pleasant and nice this morning-and there were not a great many people on the beach as her mother suspected. No one knew this place. Sandy raised up for just a moment to see what mischief her dog, Chula, was into. He had disappeared somewhere. She looked in back of her up the hill where there was a thicket of cypress trees. Chula was probably up there chasing something. She lay back down and closed her eyes. The sun was beautiful.
Then suddenly-from out of nowhere a towel came down over her head. Before Sandy could react, there was a strong arm around her neck-choking the breath from her. She tried to fight but the hands which held her were strong. She could not scream. She twisted and squirmed in the sand-until she felt a hard blow strike the back of her head . . . and from then on it was like a horrible nightmare.
The attacker dragged her body behind a boulder where he could not be seen from the road above. He would take his sweet time now; enjoy this brand-new pussy as he had so long wanted to.
He ripped away her bra and squeezed the titties. He saw the expression of pain over her face. He tightened the gag to make sure she would not scream. He checked to see if there was any chance of her getting free of the rope around her wrists. There was not.
His penis came out of his pants and he pushed between her legs. The mysterious attacker knew Sandy was virgin pussy and he was careful to make the fit just right. When his penis flushed into her narrow slit, he felt a surge go through his body. It was steaming red hot! An animal sound came forth and he shoved his long cock into her pussy. Sandy groaned and wrenched her hips from side to side-trying to prevent the penis from piercing all the way up her channel.
"Hold still, you bitch! You little cunt-teaser. I've wanted your pussy for the longest-"
The more she twisted, the more savagely he screwed her. His dick fucked in and out to break her spirit. Harder and deeper he fucked. He felt his penis jamming her bottom-ripping out her insides. He was determined to make her feel the pleasure his shaft was receiving.
He tried to kiss her-but he had gagged her. In angry frustration he struck her across the face. Blood spurted from her busted ear, and she bucked to throw him off. He loved every moment of it-a young cunt that was a fighter. He hit her again, to instill the fact that he was her master. As he slapped her, first one cheek, then the other, he fucked simultaneously. He shot off. Then he snatched his penis from her hole, huffing and puffing, watching his semen spill over her tan stomach . . . how it ran down the soft, fine muscles of her center and spilled back into her slit.
He raised up on his knees and stretched her pussy as wide as it would go. He saw how it was pulsating-he had not gotten it all from her. That's the way young bitches were-they needed to be balled from day into night-to fuck away the last horny juices! They were all prick-teasers. With that thought in mind he whammed her for good measure; he wanted to hear her scream. That was all a part of the ritual, as the shooting off of his semen.
He moved his body up near her face and slapped his penis on the side of her face. His penis rose again, semen splattered weakly.
Again he fucked her. His dick melted into her pussy again and this time she was weakening. He fucked her long and hard until she began to rotate against him. He saw her muscles as if she was about to come with him. His hands moved over her breasts, grabbing them like rubber balls! Sandy moaned and pulled away from his arms and flipped her hair back. She was a haughty bitch full of breeding, even while being raped. He liked that.
He looked down on her body, the golden tanned face and the blue, sexy, exotic eyes. They were the eyes of a wild animal, a female protecting herself in the crudest form of self-preservation. Her thighs gapped open around his waist with his penis pumping in and out of her pussy. It was sheer madness watching her squirming while he raped her good!
He gave her straight shots as hard as he could. It jarred her enough to make her body t: emble; a sensation that traveled the length of her body to the tips of her nipples! Sandy sank deeper into a web of ecstasy and the animal inside of her cried out until her body shook with delight.
The trembling body told him that she was afraid he would tear her insides more. It was such a narrow channel. He took her by the ass and positioned her the way he wanted. Her buttocks kept sliding and slipping out of his hands and she was a bundle of wiggles. Each wiggle was as though she was bursting her rocks! She squirmed and twisted her ass, trying to move against his penis. He fucked harder to settle her down. She whined through the gag in a discouraging moan and lay back, still. Then he raised her hips so her knees were around his neck.
"Now-let's see how much dick you can take!" he snarled.
Sandy groaned and kicked in the sand, completely out of control. He hit her again across the face. Then he ripped off the gag.
"If you scream for help, I'll kill you!"
"Please, you're hurting me-"
"It's supposed to hurt. Tell me it's good!"
"It hurts!"
"You like this big hairy dick of mine, don't you? "
"Yes . . . I love it . . . I'll say anything you want. Only don't kill me. Please!"
"Then give this pussy up. Open your legs wide-give it all to me!"
"You're making me bleed down there-"
"Shut up! Has anybody ever fucked you before?"
"No," she cried.
"Good! Then my cock is the first and I'm gonna make sure I get it good!"
"Please, let me up . . . "
"You better fuck me back or I'll slit your goddamned throat!"
She obeyed instantly-her head went back and her ass thrust back onto his monstrous-sized shaft, already digging between her pert buttocks; spreading and enveloping his penis with so much warmth that it was soul stirring! His hands held her tits in front like a cowboy would use the reins on a bucking filly! He turned her over, face down into the sand with her ass sticking up!
"That's right, now we're gonna get it from the rear. Just like dogs fuck-satisfy my dick!"
He saw her ass and how her pussy hung down between her deliciously fat buttocks. He saw the red pinhole of her asshole and that deep widening gap of her slit. The lips around her pussy hole were pink and swollen from the enormous stiff fucking he had given her. It was now waiting for that good sphere to come into her again. She was forced to wiggle violently with impatience. For just a second she looked back over her shoulder while bracing herself on her elbows. In that brief moment her face said enough to make him spurt a load of semen. Little Sandy was preparing to fuck for her life!
He slapped her hard across the ass. Then he rolled her cheeks in his hands like rubber and stretched them apart. Sandy's head buckled and she screamed out loud.
"Shut up! This ain't gonna hurt much!"
He struck her again and saw the billows of flesh tremble with the baby's softness. He beat her down along her hips and inside her thighs until she was a wild thing not knowing what the hell to do! Still he had not put his cock in her back there. He jabbed his penis against her clitoris. Then he took another big handful of her ass and spread it apart and jabbed his dick slowly into her narrow snatch, all the way, until her shallow anus was filled to the brim. He went crazy seeing that only half the length of his penis was in her; there was a good five inches left!
It was the most forbidden of all crimes, in his mind, to violate the tender asshole of a virgin girl. The world moved beneath him as he felt the shattering experience of sliding in and out of her juicy asshole. There was pressure from all sides of her rectum-it was muddy-it was gritty-it was hot enough to burn his dick to a standstill, nearly spurting to a full climax. You did not have to rape a virgin's asshole because it raped any instrument that came into it!
There was a chocolate brown substance over his shaft.
It was a wild frantic moment. All he knew was that he was pushing in as far as he could go. An explosion rose within him. He humped her as fast as he could-swelling her rectum twice its size until she buckled up in pain. She fell flat in the sand, her body collapsing in sheer orgasm. That quickly Sandy had been made to climax. Now she was as he wanted her-empty and drained. Her female's arrogance was void, and her asshole would be ripe for fucking now, after this.
They struggled in the sand. Sandy decided she would rather die than let him violate her rear again. Strange-but in her frantic struggling she understood now why the vagina was so important. She managed to make such a fight of it, the attacker shifted his cock into her vagina.
He became a mad creature. Over and over again, he fucked her pussy, plugged up her hole until there wasn't room for her to even breathe; she held her breath wondering how much more this crazy man wanted. He closed his eyes and savored the beautiful lines of her round flowing buttocks forming two buttermilk balls to cushion his driving penis, and semen shot from his cock with a great urgency, when he heard Sandy's passionate, pitiful cry; like a female animal being raped by an enraged bear!
The madness of it all was proving too much for her and she fought to get out of his hold. She managed to break free and scrambled across the clearing trying to get away, to stop the merciless fucking. But the attacker raced around the boulder to catch her and threw her back down on the sand. He held her by the wrists and put them high over her head and stepped in behind her ass. He wanted to fuck her asshole standing up. His dick was then like a ramrod, determined to finish the rape.
"Please-I can't take any more. Let me go! Let me go!" She panted, feeling him rotate his body over her pussy, his stiff dick virtually lifting her off the ground. It was too much dick to take again. Sandy went limp and he had to hold her up, never stopping his frantic rhythm for a second, his penis going full steam ahead.
Suddenly, there were sounds from above the ridge. Someone was coming their way. He didn't stop fucking. He just looked over at the ridge-fighting to get his last nut. He snatched it out of Sandy's asshole and turned her around. He grabbed her face with both hands and shoved his cock in her mouth-to let it go off again. He drained his last drop into her.
He turned just in time to see the intruder. A teenaged boy. The boy couldn't believe his eyes. He moved to help Sandy and then felt a hot, stinging pain enter his chest. He spun on his heels and fell into the sand. The attacker then turned to Sandy. She could identify him. Too bad the boy had to stumble along when he did-now there could be no witness left . . .
The body of Sandy Harrington and the teenaged boy, Leslie Baker, was found at 7:35 that evening. The investigation was conducted by Inspector Sam Damon. The crimes were a mystery; anyone could have committed them. The beach area had been crowded that day. Inspector Damon checked the witnesses who had seen Sandy at the liquor store earlier that day. The inspector came up with a blank.
There was another mystery that baffled them -what had become of Sandy Harrington's dog, Chula?
J. H. Harrington, crushed by the death of his daughter, offered a one-hundred-thousand-dollar reward for information that would lead to the capture of the murderer. Two months passed and there was nothing, although the police continued their investigation. Chances were the crimes were committed by an unknown person passing through the state. The inspector concluded this, realizing that during the summer months the coastline was plagued by thousands of college students and hippie types. Not two months before the Sandy Harrington case, a mass murder was committed in Yuba City. The inspector feared the state might be in for an epidemic of senseless murders.
It was nearly three months before Hal Goodman returned to the Harringtons' home again. As always, it was a matter of great urgency, there were important papers to be signed. Mr. and Mrs. Harrington received him on the patio where they finished off the business. The Harringtons noted that Hal Goodman was extremely nervous, breaking into a cold sweat. Goodman quickly excused himself.
Hal Goodman collected his papers and stuffed them into his attaché case. He said good-day to the Harringtons and had just turned to leave when suddenly he screamed in terror!
The Harringtons turned to see what had frightened Goodman. They saw their dog, Chula, attacking Goodman about the throat. J. H. Harrington shouted to the dog to retreat. Before they could aide Hal Goodman, the dog had ripped his throat open. Hal Goodman was dead. The dog trotted away, licking the blood from his mouth. The dog fell dead when he reached the end of the patio.
It was after the confusion had died down that J. H. Harrington realized that the dog that attacked Goodman was not their Chula. But the dog did resemble Chula. "Why it's not our dog at all. I wonder why he attacked poor Goodman that way?"
Inspector Damon, who was not a superstitious man, could only offer one solution to the mysterious attack on Gordon. "I've been a cop for twenty-five years. I've seen them stranger than this. You know, no matter how much leg work we cops do, tracking down maniacs and killers-the cases we can't solve always seem to work themselves out. You see, killers have to live with themselves. So I guess there must be a higher institution of peacemakers up there on the other side . . . "
Although officially, the murders were never solved, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington somehow felt that justice had been avenged.
CHAPTER TWO: REVENGE, SEX ATTACKS AND THREE WOMEN
On November 14, Harry P. Marvel was released from San Quentin prison after serving ten years for armed robbery. It had been a long hard sentence. Every minute of the day Harry P. Marvel swore he would get even with Police Captain David Hightower. Harry P. Marvel, operating out of Chicago, had robbed the National Trust Bank of a quarter-million dollars. It had been a daring daylight robbery in which no clues were found. Marvel and his gang had baffled the police.
David Hightower, an ambitious man, dedicated to upholding the law, and having no respect for the criminal, would not give up the investigation. He harassed known informers for information on who masterminded the robbery. Hightower was known in the underworld as a tough, brutal cop. He put the "pinch" on these informers, which eventually led to the arrest of Harry P. Marvel and two of his accomplices.
Captain Hightower was praised by his constituents for cracking the case. It had been a brilliant piece of detective work, save for the fact that the money had not been recovered. Only Harry P. Marvel knew where the loot was hidden.
Captain Hightower was a clever man, one of foresight. He arranged to have Harry P. Marvel set free on bail, hoping that Marvel would make a desperate grab for the loot and jump bail. He believed in giving the criminal enough rope to hang himself. He hoped that Harry P. Marvel would do the obvious, thinking the police would not expect it. It was a well-set-up trap.
Marvel panicked behind the thought of spending any time behind bars. He decided to iump bail and grab the money and run. Dumb logic. Nevertheless, he was desperate. With that much money in his hands, he could pay his way to freedom. All he had to do was make it to the airport-possibly hijack a plane. There were many possibilities.
Marvel spent a whole day eluding the policeman who tailed him. He took a Greyhound bus to the county line, told the driver he was ill, debarked in the middle of farmland. He hitched a ride back into Chicago. He went back to the bus station and boarded another bus. The bus pulled out of the depot and had gone four blocks when Marvel forced the driver to let him off. He crossed the street and boarded a subway train. He rode for twenty minutes before he stepped off and went back in the same direction. When Marvel felt he had shaken his "tails," he went to pick up the loot. Captain David Hightower was waiting for him.
Harry P. Marvel had made one mistake. He had slept with a prostitute, who had gone through his pockets-noticed an address, because the street was the same as her last name, Barrington. The informer who pointed the finger at Harry P. Marvel knew the prostitute, and he phoned the information to Hightower. Hightower put two and two together and came up with the Barrington Subway Station. Captain Hightower was standing by the check lockers when Harry P. Marvel picked up the money. Marvel had been caught with the evidence. This got him ten years behind bars.
Now that Marvel was outside the wall, she had his revenge all planned out. He had thought of it for ten long years, putting all the pieces together. What would be the best way to hurt Hightower in the worst way? Something to tear his guts out. Putting a bullet through his head was the easy way out. Marvel wanted a slow death for the good captain.
Harry P. Marvel's ingenious brain kept focusing around Captain Hightower's four daughters. Captain David Hightower was one of those bitter right-wing conservative types. He had bred his daughters to follow in his professional footsteps. He had no sons to carry on his name. His daughters were of the new breed of females who believed a woman's place was one step above man. Agness, his oldest daughter, was an attorney. Margaret, the second oldest, was a college teacher. Debbie was a teenager in high school.
At Mission High School, Larry Wells was nervously waiting for his sixth period to end. The day had dragged, which did not help the misery in his loins. Debbie Hightower said she would meet him in the girls' gym. They met there occasionally-when he could persuade Debbie. Old Daddy Hightower did not want anybody messing around with his flower, not until she was of age. He had Debbie's future already planned.
Larry couldn't wait for the bell to ring. How he hated those damn bells. A bell for this, and a bell for that! Free! That's what he wanted to be. But he couldn't be free because Debbie wouldn't give him any. Whenever he got her alone all she'd let him do was finger-fuck her.
The bell rang. Larry rushed out of his class and down the corridor, racing for the gym.
"Psst! Larry, I'm over here," whispered Debbie Hightower, peering out from one of the dressing stalls.
Larry saw her. He tiptoed quietly down the aisle and into the stall.
"Hi!"
"I was afraid you weren't going to come . . . "
"I wasn't sure I should again . . . "
He took a moment to see her. Debbie was beautiful, long blond hair, ivory complexion with pink cheeks. Her high cheekbones gave her an exotic look. Her mouth was little more than a rose petal, luscious and sweet. Her dress was a frilly thing that displayed her shapely legs. The way she looked at Larry put a slow burn on his sexuality. Debbie had a way of standing as if her body was tired of waiting for a penis. Her cunt was so hot she found it unbearable to stand still. She was slightly off balance, as if a cock would be too much for her.
Her legs turned Larry on, in that they were so silky and well formed around the upper thighs. The dress was short and cut just where the imagination wondered what the pussy looked like.
"I've been so damn horny for you, baby. I smoked some grass before fourth period and I got turned on."
"Kiss me, Larry. Hurry, don't talk!"
They clung to each other, their bodies melting in a hungry squirming. He rolled his thigh delicately into her center. He always took it easy with Debbie because she was such a gem. Sometimes his hard cock frightened her.
"You can take me to the dance Friday night. I asked daddy and he said yes."
"Oh, Debbie. You gotta give me some. I ache all over-I can't sleep."
"We'll see. Maybe Friday night we can go to Bluffer's Point afterwards. Okay?"
After the dance, Friday night of the 17th, Larry and Debbie parked under the stars at Bluffer's Point. It was a warm night, just the kind of romantic setting Larry needed to get his first piece from Debbie. It shouldn't be hard tonight because Debbie was stoned. Marijuana made her horny and she had been Miss Wiggles all evening at the dance. Debbie was nearing her fifteenth birthday; just the right time to get a taste of her snatch.
They listened to the radio for a while and smoked two joints. Larry put his arms around Debbie's back. They kissed and his hand went directly to her small breasts. She melted like butter when she had her virgin nipples pinched. Oh, wow! She was so fucking hot-why wouldn't she let him fuck her?
Larry took her tits in his hands and squeezed. Debbie folded back against the seat looking down at his hands. He kissed her neck and moved the blouse off one shoulder. Debbie went braless, so when he had the third button unfastened, one luscious tit sprang free. He sucked its nipple and licked delicately along the rigid nipple.
"Does that feel good, baby?"
"Oh, yes, Larry. Maybe we should be going. I don't like it up here in this place. You read the newspaper how bad the Peeping Toms are up here on the Point. A girl was raped up here two weeks ago."
"Where else can we go? I can't take you to a motel because someone would recognize you."
"I know, but this place gives me the creeps," she whimpered and put her arms around his neck. She squirmed down in the seat to let him stroke her between the legs. Her legs fanned open and shut.
He held her head back and kissed her hard. Her thighs were soft and warm, and hot. Her panties felt wet and he ached to get his finger into her pussy. Each time he would try, she would clasp her thighs over his hand, stopping him.
"Why do you torture yourself, Larry? You know I can't go through with it. I don't dare take the chance of becoming pregnant. Daddy would die!"
Larry caressed her ass and hunched inward and pushed his cock into her thighs. Then he put one leg between her thighs. Debbie swooned when she felt how hard his penis was. She sank further down into the seat. The windows of the car began to fog up.
"C'mon, baby, give me a little pussy. Let me stick this in your cunt. You know you need some."
His voice was like an explosion in her ear. She wiggled all the way off the seat, dry fucking the air, twisting her hips in a funky motion. Larry moved on top of her. His cock got harder and Debbie could feel it good. It was a soul-stirring sensation that made her want to fuck. She sucked her breath through clenched teeth. The dress came up very slowly at first, working up over her thighs-where she was trying her best to dry fuck Larry. When the dress was high enough Larry reached under and felt her pussy. This time she let him put his finger into her slit. At last!
He cupped her cunt in his fingers, squishing it around like a marshmallow! Young Debbie clawed her nails into his arms. He forcefully pushed his finger further up in her hole. He moved the finger around until he got her to return the action. Soon, she was moving her hips in a circular motion, pumping her pussy up and down. She wanted to fuck, but was fearful. She began to breathe heavily, in near panic as the good funky feeling spread throughout her like wildfire! The moisture was seeping out of her tiny vagina to soak his hands and panties. She didn't want him to feel how soupy her pussy was getting. A dead giveaway to how close she was to giving in.
Angrily, Larry got out of the car and came around to open the other door. He snatched it open and glared impatiently down at Debbie.
Sweet Debbie sat up and straightened her hair. "Larry-what are you doing out there? I'm not getting out of this car. I think you should take me home anyway. You need a cold shower . . . "
"You stupid broad! Don't you know that cold showers don't help a man's hard go down? Shit, I'm nearly seventeen and I need the real thing."
"But if you love me, you'll wait. I know that sounds terribly straight in these days and times-but I swear when we get married I'll make it up to you in a way you'll never forget!"
"That's not helping me now. Shit, Debbie, you've been teasing me too long. I'm not afraid of your daddy!"
Larry, still standing outside the car, spread his legs and unbuckled his trousers. The expression on Debbie's face made his penis burst into full bloom! He had had it with the courtship crap-he was going to take advantage of the moment. There she was sitting there looking as pretty as a peach, her pussy boiling over -and she was saying no.
He peeled the trousers down. He took out his penis slowly, inch by inch until it looked like a small baseball bat swinging between his legs. He stood there proudly, exhibiting himself. He had heard that young girls go crazy when they see a cock. At Debbie's age her conscience didn't stand a chance against a throbbing cock dripping come on the ground.
In the moonlight, it was difficult to see his cock well. But Debbie did see that it was plenty long enough. In a strange way she was proud of her boyfriend's cock. She had worried that he was just a mere boy. But here was the proof she had wanted to see. It wasn't always easy to tell how big his dick really was when she felt his bulge. She began to think how it would feel if it was inside her. Would she be able to take something that large inside her? Would it hurt? His finger didn't hurt her too much. It did when he first broke her cherry. But not any more! Would the penis feel much better than his finger? Of course it would. Look at it. It was longer and wider and pretty around the head. Maybe she could get away with just sucking it off tonight. But she wasn't sure she could do it without getting sick.
Debbie shut her eyes tightly and pressed her knees together-fighting a surge of boiling pussy juice that smashed against her willpower!
Larry peeled back his cock and let the red shiny head rise up. In the moonlight it was like a gleaming red apple. Debbie was hypnotized by it and almost immediately began to squirm. She leaned back against the seat, pulling away from his weapon.
He reached down and pulled her blouse off her shoulders. Debbie's naked tits leaped out like bullets; her nipples puffy and ready to pop! Two juicy balloons ready to be licked to death. Velvet eyes reflected how much pleasure she was receiving; her head tossed passionately, spilling the hair over her sexy eyes. Debbie seemed to be suffering for having made her body wait so long. It was hell being a virgin. This was all making her feel like a woman at last, and the way Larry gazed in admiration at her breasts, told her he knew what tasty morsels they were.
"Take me, Larry. I want you to fuck me-I want you to take me against my will. That's the only way I'll be able to-you have to show me how much you love me, and really want me . . . "
Suddenly she clung to him, her face warm against his legs; his cock only inches away from her pink lips. Larry felt the warmth of Debbie's face upon his penis; it throbbed and frightened her and she drew back and stared. Then she came forward and took it in her mouth and sucked it. Her fist held the base of his prick, while her tongue flickered in a circular motion-around and around the crown. Licking away all the fuzz from his leans, and the dried come that sat on the tip of his tube. It was like licking a big sucker. Debbie bit down on it, pulling it in and out of her mouth just as if her lips were a pussy. It seemed to Debbie the mouth made a better pussy anyway for a man's prick. Her pussy was all nasty with juices, all hairy and funky; she couldn't see how any man would dig a raw vagina hole. But then, she was very, very young.
She clutched his balls in her small fingers and examined them, never once missing a stroke with her tongue. Then Larry almost gagged her as it got too good for him to stand still any longer. It was what Debbie wanted and she put her arms around his ass and used her hold to guide his penis deeper into her mouth. She seemed frustrated that all of its length would not fit in her small mouth. Then she thought what she was doing was silly-she was only avoiding the issue. No matter how long she kept her mouth over his crown, eventually he would want to put it in her pussy.
She slipped slowly back on the seat and raised her arms over her head. He slid the dress off over her head. Then she lay before him only in panties, choking into her ripe flesh, the thighs, large, intensified by the heat of her cunt. His eyes swept the full length of her body, over the bountiful mounds of her small tits.
The panties came off with the grace and beauty worthy of Debbie's character; her sweetness, her willingness to test herself. To see who she was. The softness of her legs was warm, and her skin, tender silky. Larry saw the cottontail and the dark ridge of bushy hair and the pinkness of her slit making a path through the dark jungle. Then Debbie was naked under him, eagerly pulling him on top of her cunt. Her mouth showered his face with burning kisses. She twisted so much that he couldn't put his cock in her. For a long while he returned her kisses, soothing her down while his penis stretched to maximum length. He lowered into her crotch.
"Kiss me before you put it in me, Larry. I want to remember this moment as long as I live. I just wish it didn't have to be in this dirty old car . . . "
"Oh, baby-can I really fuck you?"
"Yes! But only please hurry!"
He had his cock flush against her pussy hole -he could feel how slippery it was, and so hot! Her cherry was blocking the entrance-what a sweet girl she was, to let him take her cherry!
He raised his ass up to give her one good shot-all the way in. He had thought about teasing and melting down the blockage-but he was too hungry, the best way to get it done, was to plow right in there. He bit his lips, and prepared to give it all he had.
Suddenly, Larry felt cold hard steel against the back of his neck. He froze-realizing it was a gun. Then Debbie screamed in terror. Harry Marvel stood above them, his face leering down in hateful vengeance.
Swiftly, Harry Marvel yanked Larry out of the car and tied his hands. A gag was put in his mouth and he was slammed down to the ground. Marvel looked at little Debbie, shivering in fright. The flash of a knife was seen in the moonlight. Debbie held her breath and drew into a knot on the front seat, backing under the steering wheel. Harry Marvel turned in his tracks, reached down and ripped the knife along Larry's right shoulder!
"Now come out of the car, bitch! That's to show you I mean business! I'll kill the both of you. Do as I say and come out of there . . . "
Reluctantly, Debbie crawled across the front seat and stepped out. Her arms were folded across her chest to hide her little titties. In the moonlight, she looked beautiful, with fear in her eyes-knowing this animal desired her worth. Marvel moved toward her and she locked her knees, the feminine pride still dictating that her pussy be asked for, rather than taken.
Harry Marvel snatched her to him with one hand. Then, his face covered in dark shadows, he peered down at her luscious body.
"Oh, please, mister, don't hurt us! We weren't doing anything."
"Shut up, you little bitch-I saw you teasing this boy. So you have never been fucked, eh? " Harry Marvel turned to face the boy on the ground. "Sorry, kid, I hate to have you watch this. I feel bad about taking your pussy-but it has to be done. It's fate that I, Harry Marvel, should be the first man to fuck old man Hightower's youngest daughter . . . "
He grabbed Debbie with both arms. They fell against the hood of the car. Debbie turned her head from side to side to keep this vile creature from kissing her in the mouth. But Harry Marvel, inspired by Debbie's youth, and crazed by his own vengeance-put a strangling bear-hug on the little girl.
He positioned his body between her thighs so that Debbie was sitting half off the front fender. Her legs were up around his waist. Then with one hand held across Debbie's chest, and his free hand guiding his dick-Harry P. Marvel proceeded to rape the child.
For young Larry it was a sight he would never forget. He felt a sickening sensation in his bowels. He lay there unable to help his girl. The gag kept him from screaming out when he saw the size of the man's cock. Oh, no! He wasn't going to fuck little Debbie with all that meat! It wasn't fair. It was a violation ! Debbie was such a baby and he was a grown man, an insane animal who raped little girls. He would probably fuck Debbie so hard it would rip out her tender insides!
He saw Harry P. Marvel setting his feet firmly on the ground. In the moonlight, all Larry could see was the big long silhouette of the man's penis. But he could see Debbie's white thighs being raised until they touched her chin. He saw the big dick come pushing out at her small slit of a pussy. Then he heard her scream, like a wounded female animal in the forest. The night suddenly became quiet. The only sounds were the rapist's heavy breathing, huffing and puffing as if Debbie was the best pussy he'd had. Then came the erratic breathing as he fucked as fast as he could, plowing into little Debbie's precious cunt hole.
Larry thought he would die when he saw the man beat Debbie across the face. But why? Why would he want to beat her when she was so beautiful?
Then a strange sensation came over Larry. It was a fate worse than death because suddenly he noticed that Debbie had stopped screaming and fighting the man. He thought she was just being smart; it would not have done any good to fight him. She would be the only victim. But it was more than that with Debbie now. Larry saw her raise her head up off the hood of the car to look down between her legs.
She peered at the long shaft going up and down in her body, becoming more fascinating by the lightning and thunder of his quick strokes! So this was how the adult animal mated with his woman.
Then he saw the man give her a good hard one that ended with the man freezing, standing up on his toes, getting the last drop into her pussy. He heard Debbie sigh and hold her breath. Evidently, the man had shot off for the first time. The lump of semen inside of Debbie's cunt must have felt really good to her!
So good that Debbie reached her arms up to pull the rapist down to her bosom. Larry went wild with rage. The beast was charming his sweetheart. Now Larryhad had a question answered for him. One penis was evidently as good as another-although he had not been given a chance to prove himself.
Harry P. Marvel withdrew his penis and turned Debbie over-face down over the car hood. He pushed her back down flat with both of her arms stretched out. Then he positioned her legs so that she was spread-eagle-he then had a straight shot at both of the little girl's holes.
Debbie moaned in pain with the first insertion-the dick felt harder, bigger, even after shooting off twice inside her snatch. Her whole body quaked as the man put full force behind his fucking, rocking her head at the height of each hit! They were hard solid stabs.
"Listen, you little bitch . . . you're getting off lucky tonight. Only because I need you to carry a message back to your father," said Harry
Marvel, holding Debbie by the waist and giving her machine gun blurts! ". . . you tell your dad that Harry Marvel did this to you."
He stopped fucking, caught his breath, and put his dick into her small anus. A scream more piercing than her first, came from Debbie, putting the forest into an eerie silence.
"Oh, oh . . . oh, oh, no, no," her voice trembled and bubbled off into unconsciousness.
Harry Marvel watched her limp body fall to the ground. Then he looked at Larry on the ground. "You tell them, kid, that I intend to get even with Hightower. I'm gonna make him sweat like he made me sweat for ten years!" Then Harry Marvel pissed all over Debbie's naked body. He silently disappeared into the night.
Captain Hightower went berserk at the hospital when he saw his daughter Debbie-the way she had been beaten. Then when he heard the awful tale of how his daughter was pissed upon, he tried to attack young Larry, yelling obscenities that the boy should have given his life to protect Debbie. Larry's father was with the boy and a fist fight occurred, which a photographer snapped.
When the captain was calmer he called in his staff and discussed what had happened. It was obvious that one of the criminals he had sent to prison was out to pay a vendetta. Hightower had no trouble in remembering Harry Marvel. But Marvel had been a clever man, not one prone to rape and sadistic crimes. But ten years was a long time for a man to kindle enough hate to carry such a thing off. Where would Marvel draw the line? Was he intent upon attacking all of High tower's daughters? None of them were married; they should know about it.
Hightower placed a call to each of his daughters and warned them. He explained that there was no need to be concerned, but it always paid to be prepared, just in case. Agness, the attorney, offered her services investigating Marvel. Hightower said no, he could handle the case, and it would not be long before his men picked up Marvel.
Hightower was wrong. It was not just a matter of time before Harry Marvel would be picked up. A thorough investigation was launched and nothing turned up.
One month dragged by. Hightower's nerves were somewhat relaxed, thinking that perhaps the attack on Debbie had been enough for the rapist. Then the morning papers carried stories of rapes that were brutally committed on the U.C. Campus. A rapist had attacked twelve coeds in a period of two weeks. Berkeley citizens were in an uproar. Hightower checked twice daily with his daughter Margaret, a member of the U.C. faculty. She assured her father that she would be fine, and that these things happened, although she was concerned with the series of rapes. She couldn't help wondering what a father could have done to someone to make that person want to do such a thing.
Margaret Hightower sat in her apartment overlooking the Berkeley campus. It was eight thirty, a very quiet night with an eerie stillness that was disconcerting. Telegraph Avenue was deserted and most of the shops were closed. She put aside the papers she had been correcting. Her arm ached from writing and she massaged it. She lit a joint and went to stand by the window. Poor Debbie, she thought. What a horrible thing to have happen at her age. And her boyfriend, Larry-to have been made to watch your girl get raped-to see another dick go into his own Debbie. Oh, wow, the poor kid!
Then Margaret chuckled. Maybe it wasn't so bad having your ass ripped off. To have some man so hot for your body he'd knock you down and take it. It was probably the best thing that could have happened to Debbie-the last daughter under their father's roof. As long as you were under his roof and he was paying the bills, you were going to do as he told you! No question about it. What a laugh on all those people in San Francisco if they only knew what an ambitious bigot, and wife-beater father he was. Her family still believed in yesterday's pipe dreams, and prestige was everything. Her father had raised them to be pure, lily-white female robots, with no minds of their own. When Agness was five, he told her she was going to become a lawyer. Margaret was to be a teacher. He had never let them date or have boys visit their home. They were never to forget that the family name was to be upheld.
Margaret was happy to be out of her father's house and into her life's work, helping others to communicate in love, to have compassion for their fellow man. That was enough for her. The work was exhausting, the rewards few, and the physical misery was a story in itself. She couldn't remember the last time she had gone to bed with a man. There just wasn't time. It wasn't that she didn't believe in freedom of expression in the physical sense, she felt that it was not giving her all if she was not well prepared to teach her lessons.
The men she knew were boys anyway. Big pricks, perhaps, but no salt. Too much of her father was instilled inside her. She had to say that because her father was all man. She could not love some guy who didn't measure up to her standards of a man. That in itself was a little bigoted. But that's the way things were.
The ringing of the phone broke Margaret's concentration. She answered it, and to her surprise, it was Steve Webber. Webber asked if she would meet him for coffee and a friendly chat. Margaret was pleased to receive the invitation because she did need to talk with someone. She told Webber she would meet him at the coffee house in thirty minutes.
Margaret went into the bathroom to draw a tub of water. She was quite happy to shed the boredom that went along with this apartment. It was so gloomy. Perhaps, when she had the time, she would paint it bright colors. She let her hair down and pulled her sweater over her head.
Soon she stood there nude and looking into the mirror. Maybe Steve Webber would take her to his apartment after coffee and give her some dick. The word "dick" tickled her fane" She was twenty-five years old now and she had learned that "dick" was more than just a name to her. The older she grew, the more a man's penis meant to her. How terrible it is to be in heat-and to sit back to wait for a man to ask you out. The competition was stiff and there was so much free and willing pussy on campus that the handsome guys were all taken. It was damn near degrading to practically beg a guy to ball her.
She could feel her vagina bubbling over inside. The tight entrance of her vagina contracted as if it had a mind of its own.
She climbed into the bathtub of warm water. It felt delicious and momentarily soothed her horny body. She let the water rush over her body and saw her breasts floating on the surface. The warm water splashed her nipples and they rose like periscopes, turning bright red. She couldn't resist cupping them, to let them splash in the water. The friction of the water stung the undersides of her breasts to make her wiggle below.
She leaned back and rested her head on the tub. She closed her eyes and opened her thighs. They were nice thighs, soft, shapely, tender and hot around the upper portion. Very slowly she fanned them open and shut to let the water gush between. It felt good splashing over her pussy. Her hands opened the lips wide. Ahhh! There! She was already leaking from within and the pussy juices flooded out into the bath water. She could see the stream of white fluid blend into the soapy water.
The water splashed over her clitoris. She gapped her legs as wide as the width of the tub would permit. Then she used her hands to splatter water over her clitoris again. The clitoris sprang up like a little red button. She flicked it with a finger and watched it twitch. She wondered about the human body. Sometimes her vital organs, especially her clitoris, were alive as if another soul was in her being. She had absolutely no control over her clitoris. When she was a little bit horny she had to fight it. It was like having someone reach a hand up in her womb and grab her ding dongs and not letting go-until she let a penis come up there.
Suddenly, there was a sound from outside in the living room. Margaret sat up and listened -her senses razor sharp. Had she forgotten to lock the door? No, of course not, she always locked the front door. Or did she? Her eyes flashed around the bathroom. Suppose there was someone in her apartment-the rapist maybe? How would she protect herself naked and in a bathtub? Ridiculous. Then she thought about the movie "Psycho" and her blood turned cold.
She automatically moved to stand up in the tub when the door came flying open. A man lunged at her! She saw flashes of his image with one hand raised-she opened her mouth to scream but no sound came forth. She was grabbed around the neck and yanked from the tub.
Her nude body was dragged from the bathroom into the bedroom where she was tied to the bed. Margaret prayed she would pass out and miss the ordeal that was in store for her. Although she was frightened beyond her wits, she was compelled to watch everything her mysterious attacker did to her. He was poised, not frightened at all. After she was tied securely to the bed, the man went into the living room to lock the front door. He came back and leered down upon her naked, writhing body.
"Don't be frightened, little girl. I have to do this. If you fight it'll make it all the harder. But I kinda like a gal who's frisky. So make it easy on yourself."
Margaret's eyes followed everything Harry P. Marvel did. It was like a dream happening to someone else. The way this man stared at her naked body, her tits and into her pussy. She felt ridiculous lying there with her legs stretched open. Funny, but she rather hoped that he liked her. A question arose in Margaret's mind-would this rapist fuck her because she was good, or would he fuck just anybody? She would like to think that her pussy was special.
She bit down hard on the gag when she saw him snatch out his cock. Oh, wow! Would you just look at that! His cock looked like a red sausage. It had been so long since she had seen a penis. All that gorgeous meat dangling down in front of him. Then she got a better look when he came over her.
She kept making sounds to let this man know she wanted to speak. Finally, Harry P. Marvel took off the gag.
"If you make a sound I'll kill you! Understand?"
"I won't scream. Is pussy all you want?"
"Why? What difference does it make?"
"Because you don't have to tie my hands if that's all you want." She paused to see how he would react. "I won't tell if you rape me. I need a good fucking, but I like to participate. I love to suck cocks. I'll suck yours if you want me to."
"Don't believe you, bitch. Don't you get enough? "
"I haven't fucked in six months. So you don't have to tie me up . . . "
"All right. No funny stuff!"
The thought appealed to Harry P. Marvel. It was safe enough. The lights were out in the front room and no one would think she was home. This bitch wasn't like the average straight broad. After all, she was an educator; she had a lot on the ball. Besides, these college kids today were sex freaks and enjoyed giving that snatch away.
Marvel cut the sheet that he had tied around her arms and legs. Yeah-what a beautiful chick this one was. Thanks to this girl's father, he would never have the nice things in life, bitches who looked as good as Margaret. He gazed down at her. Margaret half-smiled. She looked as though she was happy to have the confrontation.
"What are you, crazy? I came here to rape and kill you!"
"Hell. What kept you? I could use some tonight."
"I'll be damned-the teacher likes to screw."
"Damn right. But you sonofabitch'n men want a woman to kiss your asses, just to give up some dick."
"Is your pussy any good?"
"I think so. Guys always come back for seconds. I can say that. What about you? Why do you go around raping women? Why don't you just buy some cunt? Heaven knows there're enough whores in the bay area."
"You sound bitter, honey. What are you afraid of? Did your daddy tell you not to?"
"My daddy was the one who taught me what it was all about!"
"That figures."
"You know my father, don't you? You're the one he's looking for-you know all about my family. I don't blame you. They're all assholes, including my father. He needs a kick in the teeth. If you really want to get next to him -steal his money. You think he gives a shit about his daughters. It's just a big show for his friends downtown. It looks good in print. My father wants to be governor of this state. He'll make it, too."
"Why aren't you afraid?"
"Because I believe in a different world than my parents. I'm a part of the movement. I want to see change. Sex isn't dirty to me . . . I think a woman should fuck a man. If other dumb-assed, two-faced plastic prick-teasers want to dry up-that's their business. But not me. I love to fuck."
"You do look like you could use a little dick-"
Her face was serious. She wiggled and pulled her arms over her head, her lower body curling up, closing both knees-squeezing her pussy juices.
He could smell the raw cunt; the female animate in need of a good lay.
"Shit, I could use a lot." When Margaret said this, she flipped her head back and opened both thighs. She made her ass hump the sheet -then she humped her cunt up at him.
He came closer, his dick hanging like a sword. The look in Margaret's eyes suddenly transported her from the present into a long, lost dream. She was probably happy that she had at least found a man capable of fucking the shit out of her . . . leave no stone unturned . . . grind out the gritty, bitchiness deep in her soul that made her bitter throughout the day.
The moment was tense. For the time being things seemed to speed up, as when two people want something good to come out of a bad situation. The only thing that Margaret was aware of was Harry P. Marvel's dick swinging like a pendulum. Let's face it, she told herself, a dick like that was good on a rapist, or a straight guy. Her face pinched in agony as soon as she saw it. Her hands stroked over her clitoris. The blond hair fell over her eyes; her head tossed back, the mouth came open as if waiting to suck Harry Marvel's cock.
She let out a grunt when he climbed on top of her. His big pole bumped from one thigh to the other. He came down and took her ass in his hands to guide her fucking. He sounded the depths of her well until he thought his penis was going out through her buttocks. Margaret twisted, adjusting to the snug fit and came wiggling in for more. It was as if someone had stuck a long fat pole up her womb. She screwed around and around over the pole, happy her pussy was good enough to be raped. It was good for the soul to be taken in this cave man fashion-to hear this male beast grunting, as if she was a meal herself. It was fucking a big grizzly bear; the sweaty odor was as funky as his king-size prick-tearing down her pussy walls, fucking the grit out of her soul, to store hot lumps of semen. She was sure he must have gone off at least three times, and his dick was still as hard as steel.
A shaft of steel. A thunderbolt that tightened her thirsty pussy, drying up her tunnel. Her pussy hole became a suction cup that sucked his meaty gorge into her precious juice hole. Margaret slowly slipped away, climaxing continuously.
She opened herself to him-her pussy was his to do with as he pleased. He could jug as deep and as far as he wanted because she was at his mercy. Mercy, mercy! However, she hoped he was not all dog, and would not fuck her so hard she'd pass out. She would not be able to enjoy it when unconscious. It was all a dream then . . . a nightmare that was turning out beautifully. A strange man had broke into her apartment to fuck her pussy-as if he, the alley cat, had passed her place, sniffed her leaky cunt, and came charging in!
There was an entanglement of arms and legs and somehow she was on top of his penis. She settled down in the saddle, her face pensive while she adjusted. It was difficult getting her narrow pussy hole down all the way over the dick head. Then, when she had it the way she wanted, she began to fuck.
She fanned her ass around and around, whipping her snatch up and down on his pole. She was good at it. She would reverse the action from time to time. She got a kick from teasing his dick. She would let her pussy slide all the way down the pole-and she would sit there content to hear him groan. Then she would screw up along the cock until her pussy entrance was sitting around his crown. That was when she would raise up and fuck him like a corkscrew. She felt his dick throb violently and knew he had reached the end of his rope.
Harry P. Marvel was a wild man using his shaft of steel like a weapon. The more he jugged Margaret, the better she liked it. The roles were reversed and she raped him, to keep from being raped.
They clung to each other, both their souls being devoured from within-as though their organs were no longer a part of their body they could control. They rolled off the bed with a terrific boom! Harry stood up with Margaret wrapped around his legs. She put her arms around his neck and bit his ears, raking her nails over his shoulders. He grunted as if he had been wounded. Margaret's pussy was so good he could barely stand. His penis was stuck in her hole. He fell back against the wall. He turned so that Margaret's back was against the wall. He squared himself and began to fuck her standing up.
With her legs wrapped around his waist it was just the right projection for his penis to stroke up into her. He fucked that way for a long while. The sound of his grunts fascinated Margaret and with each grunt she climaxed a little more.
Margaret had never been fucked standing up, She lent herself to it, dropping her buttocks down over his pole, taking stiff jabs straight up in her hole.
He stood there flat-footed with his dick going in her like a jackhammer! Very slowly Margaret collapsed, sliding down along the wall until she hit the floor.
Margaret folded to the floor, half-unconscious from the glorious orgasm. Harry P. Marvel shook the come from the head of his dick.
He put a chair in the middle of the bedroom and tied a rope around the chandelier.
"Oh, no. What are you going to do?"
Before Margaret could speak again, Marvel gagged her again and carried her to the chair. He stood her up on it and tied her hands up to the chandelier.
"I hate to do this to you, girlie," Marvel groaned, "but I want you to give a message to your father. One that he will understand."
Margaret felt her heart thundering inside her chest; pulsating with horror. What was this insane man going to do to her? He had tricked her. He had used her and then double-crossed her. Now he was going to hang her.
What other reason would he stretched her up this way? What kind of a creep was he?
She hung there by her thumbs watching him dress, methodically, as if he was figuring his next move-thinking if he had left any evidence. This man was very thorough. When he was dressed, he took his belt from his trousers and moved in front of Margaret.
"It's a shame to scar that beautiful flesh of yours. But it must be done. Too bad, you seemed to be a good person. I guess youngsters never finish paying for their parents' sins. Sorry, little girl. But your pussy is good."
Margaret shut her eyes anticipating pain. He was behind her and her flesh crawled, sensing his face close to her buttocks. She felt his hands on her as he kissed the back of her thighs. The lips came further down and she tingled, feeling his wet mouth in the valley of her buttocks. He sucked the soft moons playfully into his mouth.
She felt her cheeks being parted and his mouth came up against her anus. Then there was the sharp bite of his tongue darting into her hole. She contracted her muscles to prevent the intrusion but he put a finger up her pussy and tickled the clitoris. It made her lightheaded and she released the tight hold around her rectum. His tongue came two inches into her mud flats . . .
Then, remembering that he was running out of time, Marvel kissed her ass affectionately and hit her with the belt. The first blow caught her just over the rise of her pretty ass. The second blow burned the flesh off her thighs!
Her body jerked and swung like a pendulum.
She hung by her thumbs while her legs dangled in the air. He beat her more until her pink body was red with welts. A knife materialized and there came a shattering scream. Then the bedroom fell into silence.
The helicopter hovered over a tall massive body of cliffs in Eclan Bay. The ocean splashed against the bottom of the cliffs where a colorful entanglement of cypress trees surrounded a narrow slope that led up to the estate that sat atop Eclan Point. David Hightower looked down from the helicopter at the house below. He saw the landing lights blink on and the lone figure of Eston Howard staring up.
"Awright, Lou, take her down."
The helicopter landed just beside the tennis courts. Eston Howard rushed to meet the helicopter. Hightower opened the door and looked out.
"What's this all about, Hightower?" said Howard, churning up his face against the rush of wind from the propellers.
"Climb in and I'll tell you. We can talk up there," said Hightower, beckoning for Howard to get in the helicopter.
"I have guests for dinner. I can't go barging off. You know better than to contact me here at my home."
"I know. Now get in, Howard, or you're going to make me angry. I flew up here from San Francisco to have this talk with you. I have a message for the Big Man."
Howard looked back to the terrace. He saw his guests mingling inside the house, enjoying cocktails. He climbed in the helicopter.
The helicopter lifted up into the darkness.
"This had better be good, Hightower. What's this all about?"
"I need a service. I want to speak to the Man."
"You know that's impossible. The Man has been going through troubled times."
Hightower replied, "I don't have the time to argue. I need a service done or next year the Man won't be elected."
"You know, Hightower-I'm disappointed in you. You know better than to risk security. You are a public official-now how would that look if you were connected to the Man? What would the good citizens of this state think if they knew the whole city was in the control of the rackets? We went through hell getting your post for you. Now I'm beginning to doubt your capability."
"Listen. My family is in danger. Some psychopath is trying to ruin my life. I've tried to track him down, but this guy is smart. He's raped a whole slew of coeds just to make cover to attack my daughter Margaret. You must have read how she was beaten nearly to death -by that animal!"
"Don't be a crybaby. You knew there were certain dangers that went along with the job. It's your personal problem-you're the big bad police captain-you find this guy and arrest him. It's sad news when you have to come to the Organization to put a hit on a crook. It's even funny. Hightower, you're a funny character!"
"Funny or not, you make it perfectly clear to the Big Man I want this guy hit. I can't do the job through the law-law is too sticky nowadays. You have to warn a ass before you can arrest him, of his legal rights and all that shit. This rat has to be killed for what he's done to my two daughters. I want to set an example for every hood in the state. I want this guy hit right away before he gets to my oldest daughter."
"All right. I'll pass it on," replied Howard. "Set this whirlybird down and let me out. I'll do what I can. But the Man is very busy these days. The less he figures into, the better for him. No hard feeling."
"Listen, you bastard! You had better take care of this for me. I know the Organization has a work force twice the size of the city police. They can find anybody. Now I want this guy found or else!"
"Or else what?"
"You just make sure the Man gets the word. Now you can go back to your swanky party. It must be nice living up here on the top of a hill in all this splendor. I'd hate to see you lose it all. Now get out and don't forget. I want immediate action on this or things downtown will get very tight! Understand?"
The helicopter landed again and Howard climbed out. The copter lifted back into the black sky. Howard stood peering up at the blackness-wondering just how much of High-tower's threat he was capable of keeping . . .
Two days later, Agness Hightower spoke with her father on the phone from her office. "Yes, dad-I know, dad. You're taking this thing much too serious. Personally, I don't think I am in any danger. I know, dad. But you forget that I'm a chip off the old block. I can take care of myself. I'm an attorney, a professional just like you. Yes, Jeff is going with me. I'll be away for at least two months, so I don't think your psycho-rapist will follow me to Paris. Yes, dad, I will call you later. I'm going to be busy this evening with a very special friend. Yes, good-bye, dad."
Agness put the phone down and leaned back and took a drag off her cigarette. Her father was a worrier. The man who raped her would be in for a pleasant surprise. If only her poor dad knew that she did not dig men. In fact, what would he think if he knew she had made it with some of the most luscious bitches in this town? He'd croak for sure. Well-it was his fault because he had raised her to do her own thing. She couldn't help it if men were utterly stupid and women desirable. It worked out just fine. She handled divorce cases which put her in close contact with wealthy women who were down on men-some were willing to give it up to her. She had it down to a routine because she took a lot of time with each client. She had access to their homes and privacy which a male attorney would not. She would put a loving arm around her clients and dry their tears, then fuck them into oblivion. When she finished with a new broad, that broad would never desire another man.
The intercom buzzed and Agness picked it up mechanically. She answered it and went back to reading the papers on her desk. Ah, everything was all cleared for her trip to Paris. She was aware of the door opening and her secretary announcing someone. Agness thought she was dreaming when she looked up and saw Cybil Stanway.
"Sweetheart. You're early," said Agness, getting up and putting on her coat. "Did your nasty ol' husband call this morning?"
"No, he didn't call. Thank God. I'll tell you the latest development at lunch. Shall we go?"
There was a cool breeze blowing throughout Cybil Stanway's penthouse apartment. There was soft music on the stereo and the thin white curtains danced in the late evening's breeze. Harry P. Marvel stood just outside the bedroom on the terrace. He could see very well through the curtains. He had followed both women to lunch and prearranged entrance to Cybil Stan-way's apartment.
Harry P. Marvel was well hidden when they arrived. Cybil Stanway had told Agness how thankful she was for the large settlement. They chatted for a while, then had a few drinks. Harry P. Marvel got a surprise when he saw them kissing on the bed.
Well, well, well! He hadn't suspected she was a dyke. But then he took a good look at Agness. She was a blonde, a small potato face, but attractive. Her hair was cut in a fuck. There was a small frame and fairly large thighs. Cybil Stanway was a tall, lanky brunette with a ruddy complexion. There was something very masculine about the both of them. There seemed to be life in their eyes, as if they were both past caring about anything.
While they kissed, his eyes went from one to the other. Agness had nice thighs and good legs. They looked sexy with the small frame, as though she couldn't take much dick. A cock of any size would bend her out of shape.
On the other hand, the dark-haired Cybil Stanway appeared to be built solid, stored with milk and honey. She was a long, tall broad, almost ugly but all together very fuckable. She was the typical lesbian type.
Agness was wearing a white shift. When the kiss was broken, Agness calmly opened it down the front. She reached in and cupped one tit to show Cybil. Her tits were mere whiffs of mounds of softness with bright pink nipples. Cybil leaned over and sucked the nipple. She pulled back and was delighted to see it swell and twitch.
They kissed again. Agness automatically opened her legs with the touch of lips. Cybil used the flat of her hand to stroke over Agness' crotch. The hand came away from the crotch and caressed the inner thighs. Cybil took a long while rubbing Agness' thighs, squeezing, molding the lobes of softness. As Cybil warmed the thighs, she kissed Agness' neck, her shoulder, her tits, and then down along the thighs.
She pulled Agness' panties aside. She saw a small portion of her pussy. But there was a lot of pubic hair, all tangled and moist. Hairs as long as that would cut off a man's prick!
It was Agness' turn to explore Cybil's body. She stood up and put her hands inside Cybil's blouse. Cybil drew up as if she was in shock. Agness rolled her breasts around and around, to juice them. She left one hand in the blouse and lifted the skirt. Cybil squirmed her hips to slip the skirt off easily. As soon as the skirt had cleared the upper thighs, they came apart.
Harry P. Marvel saw it all. It excited him and his penis rose and stood straight out. It did his spirit good to see how this rich bitch, Cybil, sitting there squirming and groaning, her legs jacked open. And to see Agness High-tower shove her hand down the inside of Cybil's drawers, and twirling around in her cunt. It was sexy to see how they turned on to each other. It said that females were easier to get to, much more than they indicated in public. Looking at the two women, Marvel discovered how hot and inwardly greedy cunts could be.
Agness kept feeling around inside the panties. Cybil Stanway shifted her wide hips from side to side. She squirmed her buttocks over the bed. Agness finger-fucked her. She stuck two fingers into the pussy hole, then three, and finally her wrist It looked as if Agness' whole arm had disappeared up into Cybil's cunt hole. He imagined Agness was groping around inside of Cybil's vagina, scratching, tickling, driving the woman out of her mind.
"You knew I wanted to fuck you, didn't you, Cybil?"
"I couldn't believe you wanted me. After seeing how ignorant I was with my husband . . . "
"I've wanted you from the first time you walked into my office. I could see that you had class. I saw how tender you were all over. How shapely your thighs were-like mine-how your tits looked as if they needed sucking . . . "
Agness moved in closer to Cybil's face. She held Cybil's face deep in her crotch-to let her sniff the fumes of her leaky cunt. Cybil rolled her face into her crotch and nudged at Agness' pussy mound. When Cybil had more than she could take, she pulled up and kissed Agness.
Then with tantalizing slowness, Agness pulled up Cybil's blouse. When Cybil's breasts were in full sight, she arched sexily and blushed like a school girl. She took the blouse off, and settled back on the bed. Agness crawled over Cybil's body and began to lick the well-rounded thighs. She barely touched her thighs-just enough to hold Cybil steady while she used her tongue. Agness cocked her head to one side, studying the sight of the open gash of pink. There was a bush there but it would not hinder Agness' plans to lick the cunt dry. At first, she just rubbed her hand up and down both thighs. The very stroking of her hands was like a hot poker raking over Cybil's flesh. Yes, indeed, Cybil was hot because she had not fucked in ten months.
Agness licked up the right thigh to the center of the action. But she did not go toward the pussy hole. She went across to the other thigh. Cybil was somewhat disappointed. She had to wait now until Agness finished licking the other thigh. Finally, Agness lapped over the pussy hairs. Cybil's body wobbled, frantic with the heat of passion. Cybil held her breath, expecting some glorious eruption to occur.
Cybil's thighs came open wider-there was just enough space for Agness' tongue to lick between. The juices from the leaky pussy hole dripped down on Agness' tongue. Cybil raised her hips to give Agness a better shot . . . she dragged her pussy lips back and forth over the stiff tongue.
It was torture for Harry P. Marvel-seeing Cybil catch a tongueful of come, then bring the tongue back into her mouth. He decided it was time to make his move. If things went well, he would have time to fuck them both.
Harry P. Marvel made his presence known and stepped through the terrace door.
"Don't either one of you broads make a sound. Keep quiet! I mean business!" said Harry P. Marvel, waving his gun at the naked women on the bed.
Another voice shouted, "Drop that gun, Harry P. Marvel! The gig is up!"
The bedroom door came bursting in! There stood Captain David Hightower with two policemen. Three other policemen stepped in from the terrace-guns drawn.
"Oh, thank heaven, dad! This is the man you've been looking for."
"I know him," said Hightower. "Harry P. Marvel. You bastard!" Without thinking, the good captain knocked Marvel down. "You dirty mother-fucker! I should shoot you down like the dog you are! Who gave you the right to endanger people's lives?"
The policemen handcuffed Harry P. Marvel and led him away.
"Daddy, you shouldn't lose your temper. It's all over now, the case has been solved. But tell me, how did you know you'd find me here at Cybil's apartment?"
"I knew all along about what you are . . . I'm not putting you down for it," he spoke quietly. "I know I haven't been a good father to you girls. So whatever you are, I'm to blame. Anyway, I figured you'd be here because you're leaving for Paris in the morning. Naturally, you'd want to spend your last night with your lover. Harry P. Marvel had to be some place close by. I knew he would strike where he least expected me to cover. It would have worked, too, but I was smarter."
"Oh, daddy . . . I don't know what to say."
"There's nothing to say. I'm happy my daughters weren't killed and this mess is over with. It's taught me one hell of a lesson!"
CHAPTER THREE: THE VIOLENT MUTILATION OF ONE CHILD MOLESTER
Joel Lacy was a convicted child molester. In December, 1966, he was arrested and sent to prison for assaulting a six-year-old girl. After four years behind bars, he was back on the streets to continue his perverted practices where he had left off. Since being free, Joel admitted to us, he had raped four more girls without being apprehended. Joel Lacy finally realized what he had been doing wrong, and consented to let us print his story in hopes of discouraging other men like himself, to warn parents, and to give us an insight into such a criminal's mind.
In Joel Lacy's own words:
"The law is too easy on guys like me. The courts have a funny paradoxical, process of justice. I had been making it with little girls long before they caught me the first time back in 1966. I can't explain why I do the things I do-why I go for girls so young. The prison psychiatrists had a lot of imagine names for what I was, but they didn't mean anything to me. I still feel a ripping in my groin when I see a cute child-untouched.
"The first time I did it to a child, I was sick for days after. I couldn't live with myself. I wanted to kill myself. But then I stopped trying to see what was right and wrong. I didn't think of them as children anymore. They were little women. I was wrong, I know, but I couldn't help it.
"I used to hang around parks and school grounds. I would see a little girl walking home alone. Children are such real persons and it wouldn't take much to seduce the girls into coming with me. I would usually take them for rides in my car out into the country. The small country towns are great for that. Parents don't worry so much about their kids until the sun goes down. But by that time it would all be over. But I never did hurt one of the kids. I had to gag them occasionally. I would warn them that if they told I'd come back and get them. I would make a return trip to some of them. There was this pretty little blonde kid about seven-she liked me. She was my friend and we played games together . . . we played house. I was the father and she was the mommy. Then I was discovered and had to leave town.
"When I got out of prison I swore I would go straight. I mean the worst thing in the whole world to be is a child molester in the pen. I had my ass kicked plenty of times. You were acceptable as a man if you committed robbery, murder, manslaughter, or extortion, but you were an animal if you were what I was. It was hard time for me to kill, but I got out. And as I said, I was going straight.
"I came back to a society that had changed a lot. Bitches were wearing miniskirts and showing their tits. Free fucking was everywhere-and the hippie movement had everybody smoking pot and freaking out. I was gonna try it the straight route. It's not that I don't nut when I fuck a grown woman, it's just that they leave me so cold. Women are vain, selfish creatures that are on this earth to emasculate pricks. If you ever lived with a woman, and saw how slutty she became after the honeymoon, then you can sympathize. But I compromised and decided not to fuck any girl under eighteen. Unfortunately, I didn't stick to that decision.
"I moved to San Francisco at the peak of the Haight-Ashbury action. The streets were crowded with young, runaway girls. They were broke, hungry, and willing to do anything for a bed overnight. But I'm not the most handsome guy in the world, and I was over thirty. In fact, I was the guy they pointed their fingers at-the suit and tie, part of the plastic generation who didn't understand them.
"You can probably see how frustrated I became. Everywhere I looked there were all kinds of cunts, flirting, and begging to be fucked. Sometimes I would go into Golden Gate Park and park my car and watch the wild goings-on. Those young gals would be running buck-naked teasing the boys-right there in the park. At night they would camp out there under the trees and fuck. I used to sneak out there and peep. Once or twice I did join in. Like the time I raped this black girl-but only after some more fellows had her down on the grass. There were about six boys, and when they let her go, she came crying toward me. I knocked her down and fucked her-which left me unsatisfied, because after all, they had her first. I only enjoyed pussy that nobody had touched before.
"I left San Francisco because the cops were beginning to put the head on drifters and dropouts. If you have a record for child molesting, they are constantly picking you up. So it wasn't healthy to be seen around the Haight.
"But before I left I cornered a young girl about fourteen in the hallway of her apartment building. There was a long dark corridor in the back and I put a knife to her neck and dragged her back there. She fought me like a tiger-good pussy, though-and I had quite a few bad scratches on my face. I knew that she would identify me, so I slugged her and took off running. I panicked. When I came to my senses I was up in the big-foot country of Oregon. I was surprised that my old car had made it. It was like I had been lost in a fog and woke up to find myself looking up at tall evergreens and rolling hills.
"There was a trailer camp not far from where I was. The summer was just ending, but a few stragglers had stayed on. I had thought about going down and asking for a meal, when I saw this little girl walking down the path. There was no one around. I knew that she was staying with her family at the camp.
"This little girl couldn't have been more than eight or ten years old. She was a sweet, demure youngster. She was slenderly built with long, brown, stringy hair. She was wearing shorts that were much too tight for her and a T-shirt with her school name on it.
"When she saw me she stopped and smiled. I asked her where she was going. She was just out for a walk and her parents had gone into the town to get some supplies. Her brother, Peter, was playing over by the creek, which was some distance away. I asked her if she minded if I walked along with her. She told me her parents had warned her not to talk to strangers. I explained that I had been traveling for a long time. I said my car had broken down and I needed help and food.
"She became frightened. I realized that she might turn and run at any moment. Something came over me and I was that ugly person I tried to hide . . . but it was too late. I had looked at how the shorts were cutting into her crotch, and how her baby fat was making her shapely thighs quiver. My dick got as hard as a rock!
"This strange feeling came over me and I was desperate-sweating. I opened my fly and pulled my cock out. It was hard and it popped out as if it had a will of its own. The kid stood there wide-eyed-not knowing what to say. But I could see that she was fascinated-her eyes never moved from my cock.
"When I knew that I had her attention, I began to piss. I said excuse me, politely, as though nothing was wrong with what I was doing. Evidently, this little girl's parents had brought her up to know things about sex; she wasn't shocked by normal body functions. At least she didn't appear to be.
"But I watched her eyes. She was frightened, but brave. I could see she was thinking about running away fast.
" 'Do you know what this is? ' I asked, shaking the last of the piss from my cock and stroking the shaft to make it come full hard.
" 'It's your dick-I mean, penis,' said the little girl.
"I backed up and pulled my trousers off my hips. I sat on a boulder and beckoned for the little girl to come there. She stood there with both hands behind her back, her eyes fluttering downward.
" 'Come on, I'm not gonna hurt you. I wish I had some candy to give you.'
"She answered that she didn't eat candy.
" 'You know what's sweeter than candy?'
"She came slowly toward me, watching my penis wiggle now.
" 'What?'
" 'This!'
" That?
" 'Yeah.'
" 'I don't believe you. How come?' she asked. " 'Because I'm a man-and you're a little girl.'
" 'That sounds funny. I don't believe you.' " 'You have something sweet between your legs, too.'
" 'My vagina?'
" 'Oh, you know the word.'
" 'My daddy and mommy taught me about sex.'
" 'Do you ever see your mommy and daddy having sex? Your mommy thinks your daddy's thing is sweet-and she knows what to do for it.'
" 'What?'
" 'Doesn't she suck it for your daddy?'
" 'That's none of your business, mister . . . '
" 'You don't have to get upset about it. I was going to let you suck mine, but I see you're very mean.'
" 'I am not!'
" 'Well-when you grow up maybe some man will let you suck-'
" 'I don't know you. Why should I? '
" 'It likes you. You wanna see? ' I took my cock in hand and pointed it at her.
" 'It looks funny. It looks like a snake.'
" 'Wanna touch it?'
" 'May I?'
" 'Okay. But not for very long-'
" 'I won't for very long.'
"My cock hung down. The little girl came closer and patted it with one hand-as if she was stroking a strange puppy-nice doggie. My cock was spurting and barking, wiggling just like a dog's tail!
"The little girl put both hands around the stock. She stretched it, curious to see how far it would go. Then she pushed down and made the foreskin peel back-my cock stuck up like a red apple. The head of it fascinated her and she stared with childlike innocence down the eye of the crown. I could see her wetting her lips in preparation. She waited to see if it would grow any larger. When satisfied that it was as long as it would stretch, she stroked down the sides of it with tender hands.
"I could feel my dick throbbing and my nuts tingling. I was on fire throughout my lower cock. Somehow just having her hold it as if it was something special turned me on.
"Then the little girl took the first exciting lick! My penis might have been a lollipop, or an all-day sucker the way she tasted it. Everything depended on that first smack-if she would find it delightful enough. Then she licked it again, this time swirling her tongue around the stock. She went up and down along my dick string and my cock mushroomed larger. When I saw her measure my dick against the length of her face, I shot up and come spurted everywhere. She drew back and shook her hand-trying to get the sticky semen off her fingers.
"I caught her before she could move away. She was excited and awestruck by all that had happened. I pulled her into me and put my arms around her. I held her sideways and lifted her T-shirt. Her titties were little more than a palmful. The nipples were larger, like strawberries, but the nipples were just sweet nubs. I reached in back of her with my right hand and cupped the right tit. I fastened my mouth over it and sucked delicately.
"The little girl twitched and squirmed her hips; now realizing that we were doing something we shouldn't. In her mind she was sharing a secret with a friend, a friend who loved her body-who thought she was pretty.
"I sucked her tit harder into my mouth and could feel juice squirting out-sweet honey fluid-she was still to be weaned. Very slowly I rubbed my hand over her stomach in a circular motion. It didn't turn her off, she didn't mind my hand being that low. But when I went lower to the cup of her pussy, she drew her legs together. I managed to get two fingers between her legs and rubbed her crotch. I could feel how wet the material was where her little pussy had been leaking. I played over her clitoris and it was like turning the light on in a dark closet. She whimpered and started to shake. The feeling was so good to her that she tossed her head. She was becoming frightened now. I had to take it slow.
"I got her shorts down. She was so bewildered and horny she didn't know what she was doing. She obeyed me as if all grownups held full authority over children.
"When she was nude I looked at her pussy mound. She was very pretty between her legs. There was just a slight growth of pubic hair, but mostly bald. Like a new-born baby's cunt. I rubbed it lightly. I made sure I got that area good and hot before I stretched open her pussy lips. I tickled her there with my finger. The little girl liked this and responded eagerly now. It was a new kind of sport that she found physically exciting.
"Her cunny was dripping juices and I smeared the cream over her clitoris to heighten the sensation. Then I stuck my finger in her pussy for about an inch. She buckled and went weak in the knees. My face was then between her sweet legs.
"The moment I had been waiting for. I cupped her buttocks in back and pulled her cunt to my mouth. I licked my tongue out and separated the fine hairs covering her entrance. When the hairs were cleared, I lapped her clitoris. That set her body in motion and it was as if she had a wiggly worm inside her precious flesh. The center of her cunt tasted good, so I put my mouth over the width of her hole and sucked inward. Her little fuck hole juiced up again. I sucked and dug into her vagina. I made a rocking motion with my hands on her buttocks and she followed. I felt the pressure on my tongue, trying to slip past the cherry, which clamped down like an iron clam!
"It was time to put some dick in her. I sat down on the boulder and pulled her over my lap. She faced me with both of her legs outside mine. My cock stuck straight up through her legs. I positioned her cunt so it was right there ready for my prick. There was pain for the little girl right away and she bit her lips. I spread my legs wider which opened up her vagina more. I knew that I was giving her an awful lot of dick to cope with, but she did so happily.
"I held her by the waist and yanked her down -my big, hairy dick plugged up her slit. The little girl started to cry and shriveled up. I quickly pumped in and out to get the rhythm going . . . then she stopped crying, her sounds only in tiny whimpers.
"It was beautiful with her sitting up there on top of my cock. Of course, I wasn't getting all pussy inside, but gradually the little girl warmed up and her vagina stretched to accommodate me.
"I changed positions. I moved her to the grass behind some bushes, just in case anybody came along. I took off my trousers and lay down on her back. I rubbed my body all over her neat little ass. I fucked her that way and this time she was ready for it. She was not pleased that she didn't make the nice man like it more.
"This little girl's cunt was like a rubber band around my crown; hot as hell! My dick was on fire! I didn't even feel like fucking her. I could just let my dick hang off in her tiny cunt and absorb the groovy sensation shooting over my shaft. She drew up and pushed her buttocks up to me. It was hot to her, too. She looked back over her shoulder with pleading eyes. She wanted me to please hurry and get it over with. Her little brother was waiting for her at the creek.
"In a strange way it was like giving me an okay. I swear that kid's whole personality changed. It was freaky. My dick slipped into her hole up to the hilt. It seemed she held back because she didn't want me to know how large a little girl's pussy could be, and so easily available. My dick pushed in clear to her cervix. We got stuck! I rolled inside her and scraped my dick head over the roof of her pussy. I rang her ding-dongs a couple of times and she raised her ass for more.
"As I fucked her, I played with her buttocks. I molded them in my hands and saw my prick shooting in and out between her crack!
"That was the last thing I remembered. The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital coming off the operating table. The little girl's father had doubled back to their campsite to get his camera. His son was there crying because he couldn't find the little girl I was fucking. The father grabbed up his rifle and came looking for his daughter. He found her, with me sticking my dick in her rear. I was shot three times, once in the butt hole, once in my back, and the third shot ripped off my right testicle. I have had no desire since then."
CHAPTER FOUR: VINDICTIVE LESBIANS
Randa Brooks, a twenty-eight-year-old white female was brought to the psychiatric division of the U.C. Hospital, by the police. Randa was employed as a medical transcriptionist.
Ella Johnson, a thirty-four-year-old black female, was a registered nurse at St. Mary's Hospital. She had been Randa's roommate for one year.
Tiny-twenty-five years old, was best described by her name. Tiny worked part time as a secretary.
Randa came to the San Francisco area from Seattle. She was running away from two bad love affairs-one with a man and one with a woman. When she couldn't combine the two, she decided to remove herself from the situation, in order to make a decision as to which way she wanted to go.
After a couple of lonely months in San Francisco, Randa made a few discreet inquiries and on Tuesday night after work, she found herself sitting in a bar on Castro Street. It was moderately filled with working people, warming themselves while waiting for their catch. As the dinner hour came and went, the people there changed only in quality, not quantity. The change was maneuvered so subtly that it was startling when one suddenly became aware that the room was filled with women engaged in conversation, both heavy and light. At one corner of the room four women played bar-dice. The impressive thing about the whole scene was the fact that the women were able to drink and have a good time without becoming bored and nauseatingly obscene as men so frequently do when they go to the neighborhood bar to have a few drinks.
And it was not necessarily what one might think. These were just women exercising their rights to be individuals, to burst the fantasy that women live only to be with men; that they are so neurotic that when they are not with men, all they do is talk about them. While many were lesbians, many were just clever women who picked men who were secure enough in their own masculinity that they were able to encourage their mate's expression of herself.
Soon, Randa was caught up in the conversations around her. She was particularly attracted to Ella, a black woman a few years older than herself. She liked the way this woman spoke with the ease of knowing you are right.
Ella offered Randa a ride home that night and during that time they found themselves fast friends. It was one of those relationships that just clicks. Randa told Ella that when she was thirteen years old she had been on a community girl's swim team. One day when she stayed after practice, her coach, Mrs. Twyler, told her she wanted to speak with her. Mrs. Twyler came right to the point. Randa's mother had asked that she speak to Randa. It seems her mother had entered Randa's room one night and found Randa playing with her genital area in her sleep. Her mother felt that Mrs. Twyler could best handle this matter with Randa because she herself was not close to Randa and was so disgusted at the act that she could not discuss it.
"Do you ever do this when you are awake?" Mrs. Twyler asked.
"I have a couple of times."
"Why do you do it?"
Randa hung her head and sighed, "It makes me feel good."
Mr. Twyler touched Randa on the arm and said, "There is nothing wrong with what you did. Let's talk about it."
They discussed the subject of masturbation for the next fifteen minutes. During this time, Mrs. Twyler had sat down next to Randa on the cement around the edge of the pool. She frequently touched her on the arm or leg to emphasize a point.
Then Mrs. Twyler said that she would like to be sure that Randa was performing the act correctly. She began rubbing her hand up and down Randa's thigh as she spoke.
"Do you put your finger right here and push?" Mrs. Twyler's finger slid across Randa's leg and found that center spot of her pussy and rotated it gently against her pubic bone. Randa squirmed and giggled.
Mrs. Twyler lifted her hand and said, "Show me how you've been doing it, Randa."
Randa felt her body tingle as she reached her fingers down to rub her clitoris. She pressed the heel of her hand against her mound and rubbed firmly. She slid down the bottom of her swim suit. Mrs. Twyler dropped into the water and stood directly in front of Randa. She gently pushed her legs, open a little. Randa ran her fingers through the hairs that were beginning to grow. They were new so they were fuzzy soft, like silk. She used both hands to lightly caress the swelling lips of her vagina. Randa could feel the juices filling her up inside and as she stuck her finger into her hole the wet sound of the sticky substance revealed her true feelings. She heard Mrs. Twyler moan, but was so caught up in her own good feeling she was not really conscious of it. Then, suddenly, she felt a new wetness coming up along the inside of her leg. Mrs. Twyler grasped both her legs and pressed them tight around her head. She gently reached to open Randa's pussy lips and flicked her tongue over the opening to Randa's vagina. Now Randa moaned and shook so hard she was beginning to feel afraid. She didn't know if she could handle this feeling.
Mrs. Twyler pressed her lips gently over her clitoris and nibbled at it, teasing it until it stood up, swollen and red. Then she stuck her tongue hard into the wet softness of Randa's tunnel. It was contracting violently with the thrill of orgasm. It was deliriously hot and as Mrs. Twyler lapped up the escaping juice, Randa felt the surging hotness grip her body once more as she added more juice to her coach's mouth.
After that incident, Randa had tried to blot it out of her mind, at least that's what she told Ella. Ella couldn't quite understand why Randa had chosen this subject.
They decided to become roommates since they hit it off so well. It soon became apparent that Ella was very fond of Randa. Ella did all the cooking, kept the apartment clean, and generally catered to Randa's whims. They had separate bedrooms but there were times when Randa swished about the apartment in sheer panties. Randa never wore anything over her breasts. So it was nothing to see Randa eating an apple on the couch, viewing television, with her naked titties exposed! It was becoming too much for Ella, to see her tits springing about, and Randa's neat little buttocks rippling inside her panties.
Ella wasn't sure if Randa suspected that she was a lesbian. She kept thinking about the story of the swim coach screwing Randa, until she had to have her.
One evening after work, Randa came home and caught Ella masturbating. Ella had taken two sick days off from her work.
Randa had entered quietly and went directly to her room, where she kicked off her shoes. She saw Ella pass her door, nude, going to the kitchen. Out of curiosity Randa watched Ella silently, not wanting any conversation at the moment. She moved to the bedroom door and peeked out.
Ella went into the kitchen to a pot that was sitting on the stove. There was one large wiener in it and she removed it, almost with loving care, and took it back into her bedroom.
Randa wondered what the hell Ella was going to do with it? Oh, now, Randa, she scolded herself, no more peeking! It flashed in her mind that Ella was going to masturbate. Randa had always wondered what gorgeous girls like Ella did in their idle time.
Inside her room, Ella climbed onto the bed and stretched out. Her eyes darted to the clock, and then to the partially open door. She wasn't expecting Randa home for another fifteen minutes.
For a moment, she sat there with her legs drawn up, her chin cupped over them, looking at the wiener that was on the night stand. Her head dropped to one side, totally absorbed in some bizarre thought. Then, with a sly grin on her lips, as if to say, "Why not?" she took the wiener in hand. She slowly began to rub the wiener between her legs and up and down her thighs. First one, then the other. All the while staring across the room at the mirror, digging her reflection.
Ella moaned in a building passion and her breath heaved. With her free hand she stroked the hairs over her mons area, twisting the long, dark strands around and around and over her fingers. Then one finger pricked her clitoris, and the membrane stood up like a soldier, raising its head ready for duty! "Oh, shit, why am
I torturing: myself over Randa?" Ella moaned to herself.
She tossed her head back and pulled her hair behind her ear, then carefully, slowly, she used the wiener as a dildo. One hand pried the lips of her vulva apart, leaving enough room to slip the wiener between the fingers into the contracting slit of her vagina. The wiener was almost eight inches long and she pushed it all into her hole. Then to brace herself, she reached her hands around her thighs and began moving her buttocks just as if there was a man there, pushing the wiener into her cunt. Her hands squeezed and fondled the soft resilient flesh of her firm thighs. One hand came further down to the orifice of her rectum and disappeared. Both openings were now fully being occupied, both giving her equal amounts of pleasure.
"Oh, shit, this is no good-it's gotten cold-I need the vibrator!" Ella cursed and threw the wiener down and rushed across the room. She returned to the bed with an electric vibrator, a dildo shaped like a man's penis.
Ella had ordered it through the mail, mostly because she did not believe such things existed, at the time. It had taken her a while to adjust to it, then she found that it eased countless nights of lonely frustrations. She plugged it securely. Then she nestled down warmly on the sheets. She closed her eyes, seeming ashamed of having to relieve her horny pussy in this manner, thinking of how it all had started. She drifted off into a mild fantasy as the dildo shook the walls of her vagina and its warmth thrilled her cervix . . . coming deeper and deeper into her tunnel.
Randa watched, flabbergasted, thinking how sexy Ella was. Ella was thirty-four years old when they met, and was just in the process of cleaning up the court mess involved with her divorce. Ella had a gift; she wasn't an ordinary woman, not by a long shot. In fact, everyone was drawn to her. To look at her face was to want to fuck her! Although she was thirty-four, there was still the beauty of innocence, however true that might be. Ella had a pretty face, turned up nose, small pouting lips, large bright eyes with dark long lashes and brown hair that was swept to one side of her face almost to cover her eyes.
Her provocative figure was magnificent, perfect for her weight and height. She was much taller than Randa, with sturdy legs and fully rounded buttocks and hips. Her breasts were about the size of large oranges. Her nipples sat on puffy circles that easily enlarged and pouted as though there was honey juice there.
All about her was softness, overly so. The fleshy parts of her body, her thighs and buttocks mostly, were resilient, trembling in warmth. Her thighs were beautiful in that she had the magic quality of some maturing women who are just taking on the bit of extra poundage. When Ella walked, the flesh of her upper thighs would swish and roll slightly, trembling in heaviness. All of this implied that her pussy was so ripe and hot that her body seemed to be swelling, throwing off its inhibitions in making ready for her big orgasm!
And as Ella had observed Randa, Randa observed Ella. She was especially flabbergasted seeing how sexy Ella looked in white jeans and her red T-shirt. There was the shadow of a slight indentation making a valley between her breasts and it was quite obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. The hard tips of her big child's nipples brushed and slid under her T-shirt. Her waist was small and her hips jutted out into flaring pillows of buttocks. They were cupped smoothly and solidly into her jeans and the material was lodged deeply between her cheeks-pulling taut where her flesh swelled out.
All together she looked as if she was carrying a load! The way her hips curved down into that thick conjunction of thighs gave buoyancy to her cheeks, made them look that much softer.
Without knowing why, Randa pushed open the door to Ella's bderoom. They stared at each other, Ella holding the electric dildo. For a moment there was a sheepish look on her face, then she decided that since she had been discovered-why not go all the way?
"Hi," was all that Randa could think to say.
"You're home early," whispered Ella, putting the dildo aside.
"Yeah. What's that-I mean, what does that do for you? " Randa referred to the vibrator. She came and stood at the foot of the bed.
"I was thinking about you, Randa-"
"Ohhh, that's what you do when you're-"
"-when you want to fuck someone so badly, and that someone doesn't know. Don't you know what I am, Randa?"
"Yes. I know what kind of girls go to that bar on Castro Street."
"Come to bed with me, Randa. Let me show you how beautiful it can be. No one would be the wiser-after all, we room together. It'll be our secret. . . "
Ella crawled to the side of the bed. She pulled Randa close to her and began to unfasten her skirt.
Randa flicked her hair, haughtily, and gazed up at the celiing as if to regain a moment of sanity. She was beginning to squirm out of her skirt. Her movement seemed to say that she was willing to go along with whatever Ella was planning. When the skirt slid down over her ass, it was like saying: "All right, here's my body. I know it's too much, but I can't help it. I'm bored, and I was born horny. I love to fuck so I keep my body shapely so all the men will see how ripe I am and want to fuck me. So don't be too critical, honey. Just because you've got yourself together.
Then the skirt fell to the floor and Randa stepped free of it. She then removed her blouse and flung it to the center of the room. She looked as if she was ashamed of her breasts because they were so huge. Her arms covered them, protectively.
Ella brought Randa closer and touched her thighs first, then lowered her panties, all the while gazing down into a honey-colored forest. The panties fell with a faint hiss of air. Ella encircled her arms around Randa and pressed her head to her stomach.
It was sensational the way Ella worked on Randa's breasts; she knew that Randa was somewhat ashamed of her mammoth-size tits, so she pretended that they were the sweetest-tasting tits ever. Ella ran her right hand up the center of the large melons and spread her fingers, clasping over one breast. She pulled downward, as though the tit were a water-bag, and the pressure made Randa's tits swell up and her nipples enlarge. They became pinkish red, hardened by the hot sensation shooting through her sumptuous, excited body.
All the time she was fondling her titties, Ella was whispering things in Randa's ear, kissing down along her neck, making her throw back her head and shut her eyes in ecstasy!
It was strange for the two women to be together this way. Perhaps Ella thought Randa was going to say nasty things to her; knowing how catty some chicks were, she expected her to laugh in her face and make fun of her because she was a lesbian, and wanting to fuck her so badly. But Randa was learning. Shit, the second Ella started playing with Randa's naked tits, and they were in the open, both women had one thing on their minds; how to get the most satisfaction for themselves.
Ella began sucking and licking on Randa's young breasts and the room was filled with electricity. Ella had not had a good fuck for a long time, and she was hungry for young, tender meat. Soon, she had pushed Randa down on the bed and climbed on top of her.
"Kiss me, honey, it's not going to be bad."
Randa was beneath her, twisting, tossing, moaning through her teeth. She had her arms folded across her breasts.
Ella had started something that had to be finished. But Randa was not too strong on kissing another female in the mouth! It was fine if Ella only wanted to kiss and lick her titties, or suck her cunt. But for Randa to return the show of sexual affection-that was somewhat different.
Then, as though realizing her hesitance, Ella came between her legs and let one of her giant-size titties push over Randa's clitoris. It was as if Ella was using her tit as a would-be penis, rubbing that big juicy glove up and down, and all around in between Randa's pussy. But it appeared perfectly harmless; in fact, while she was doing that, she very lovingly caressed Randa's fine, mellow thighs.
Ella took a long while just staring down at Randa's naked body. She began trembling all over as if she had just stolen something and feared getting caught. Instinctively, she gazed all around the room as if to see if anyone was watching. Then she smoothed her one hand up and down Randa's body; stroking, teasing, and making suggestive circles with her fingers around her navel, Randa was so inflamed by the burning sensation, that she would draw up one leg, drop it back down, and raise the other. She did not know exactly what to do to relieve herself; and that was what Ella was banking on.
While Ella stroked, Randa was tossing her head from side to side, until she accidentally collided with one of Ella's tits. Automatically, she raised her hands up to capture it, and the next thing she did was to nibble it with her teeth! She nibbled, pulled, and finally took as much as she could into her mouth. That gave Ella the shits! Knowing that Randa had finally decided to enter the game.
To show that she approved, Ella leaned down and kissed Randa's leg. She started at the kneecap and slurped up to her thighs. That made Randa sit straight up, embarrassed and shocked by this new and soul-stirring sensation.
It was out-of-sight! Two healthy females, filled with softness and overripe pussies, playing with each other. They were touching and asking questions. One would touch the other's tits, and wait for some kind of response. If it was pleasant, the hand would remain there and the caresses would continue. Each was telling the other where they enjoyed being touched the most!
Ella kept right on kissing up along the thigh; and Randa leaned back and raised her arms to give her room. Looking down between Randa's legs, she saw how sloppy wet her vagina fluid was pouring down. Ella must have felt compassion for her, seeing her wiggle and beg, bolting up and down. She lowered her head, slowly, until she was inches over Randa's contracting pussy and blew her hot breath into it.
"Oh, baby, kiss me, before I eat your cunt out!" Ella said and snatched Randa's head down on the pillow and raped her lips.
"Yes, yes, anything you tell me to do-I'll do . . . "
"Have you fucked many men?" Ella demanded.
"Not too many. They couldn't make me come."
"I'm going to turn you on to something special."
"I told you I'll go for anything you say. My pussy is yours, Ella. Shit, I can see you know what you're doing."
"Okay, if I do this, it means you're my old lady. I don't do this for just anybody. I want to warn you beforehand, I'm a possessive bitch!"
"I won't run out on you, honest. I wouldn't mind eating your pussy, 'cause you're so damn sexy, Ella."
They played with each other for a long while. Then Ella mounted Randa as a man would. She took a stout hold on her buttocks and yanked her hips up into her own. Their thighs were locked together where they could work their clits into the position they desired.
"Oh, shit-you're good! I want you to have the best fuck there is the first time!" Ella snarled as if she was angry now, and began humping down into the creamy softness . . . dry-fucking Randa harder and faster. Then, she suddenly stopped and drew away. That left Randa begging, moaning and grabbing for her arms to pull her back. But before Ella began again to dry-fuck her, Ella made her kiss her.
When satisfied with the tongue-kissing, she again lowered down into the folds of pussy and worked the slimy cunt to a burning crisp. Ella did not leave one spot of the crevice unlicked or untouched! She buried her head inside Randa's pearly white thighs, and they both nearly exploded. Ella's tongue was flicking fire and fanning that cunt to a fine morsel!
Then it was over and Randa let out a moan that almost shook the apartment building! It took a full minute to quiet her down. She lay there shaking like the leaves on a tree, gasping for breath and crying in Ella's arms.
Only Randa wasn't chicken, either. She hopped right up from the bed and made Ella stand up. Then she bent her over the bed and she came in from behind Ella. She began licking her ass! Her right hand circled around in between Ella's thighs and tickled her pussy at the same time.
Ella was too far-out to know anything except the wonderful feeling going on behind her.
Randa felt no qualms as she licked over Ella's buttocks and in between her crack until Ella could not stand still and grew weak in the knees. When she got too weak to stand up, Randa pulled her down so that her ass was over her mouth and she ate awhile in that position.
All that could be seen was Randa's head and hands spreading wide, soft cheeks, and licking up at the knob of snatch hanging in her face! She drove Ella out of her mind; first licking her tongue up under the asshole to the tip of the cunt, and the rich fluid would leak into her mouth-she sucked that in and pushed her pointed tongue into the vagina. She held it there and Ella had to wiggle her big buns around to get some action going! At that point, Randa pushed her entire face further up between the buttocks and stuck her wet tongue clear inside the asshole! Ella had a fit and busted her nuts, crying, cursing, and loving her newly found sex partner.
Ella got off the bed and swished across the room, the juices in her pussy sounding. Squish, squish!
There was a whip on the chair and she called Randa over to where she stood by the door. Before she told Randa what she was going to do to her, she leaned down and sucked at her cunt for just a second, then pushed Randa's face against the wall and hit her across the ass with the whip! Whack! Whack! Whack!
Randa's face was distorted with weird expressions; pain, sorrow, pleasure, lust, and most of all, and easiest to read-the expression of gratitude from having her woman's body used to please another woman.
Ella and Randa became lovers. Randa at this point had no idea what she had let herself in for.
Before Randa began to room with Ella, Ella had been going steady with a black girl named Tiny. Tiny lived upstairs in 303. Ella and Tiny had not gotten along, they fought because Ella was jealous. They decided it would be best to break up before violence came between them.
Tiny had not come down to see Ella since Randa moved in. Tiny saw Randa a couple of times, passing in the corridor. But when she did pay a visit, she knew right away she had to have Randa.
Evenings when Tiny visited, she kept her eyes glued on Randa. Ella caught it and they played a cat-and-mouse game; Ella's cold stares warning Tiny not to mess with her new catch. Randa felt very uncomfortable, while also having her ego inflated.
Ella left for work in the mornings before six o'clock. Randa did not leave until eight-thirty. Tiny knew this. One morning, she let herself into the apartment after Ella had left for work.
Tiny was very familiar with the apartment. She went to Randa's bedroom door and opened it. Randa was just awakening, glowering at the alarm clock.
"Is that you, Ella?" called Randa.
"Naw, baby-it's Tiny. Hey, did Ella cut out already?"
"Yeah, if she's not out in front."
Randa sat up and rubbed the sleep from her sexy eyes. Her breasts were naked.
"I came down to have a cup of coffee. I ran out. Okay?"
Tiny waited to see Randa roll out of bed. She did a double take when she saw how sumptuous Randa looked in a pair of choked-off panties.
"Would you mind making me a cup?"
Yeah, Tiny could see that Ella had spoiled this baby chicken already. Ella probably waited hand and foot on Randa.
"Sure! Come on in the kitchen. . . "
Tiny didn't know how she was going to make the move. She had very little time; Randa would probably want to shower and take a long time dressing. Was it better to try here in the bedroom?
Tiny went into the kitchen to make the coffee. Randa disappeared into the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she came into the kitchen, she was still in panties with nothing on top. Well, Tiny knew then that she was a gamely little bitch. Shit, as uninhibited as Randa appeared to be, Tiny was going to have her hands full. But Randa was new to all this. She didn't know that she should not have let Tiny in, nor was she ever to display what was thought to belong to Ella. The unwritten law, you never show your pussy to anyone but your dyke.
Tiny took her cup of coffee out into the living room. Randa followed, treading on tiptoes, looking fresh as a daisy.
"Look here, I don't mean to butt in your business-but ah, is Ella fuckin' you yet?" Tiny turned up her cup when she spoke, waiting to see if her pigeon was vulnerable.
Randa turned and looked at Tiny. "I don't see that's any of your business. . . "
"Ahh, why don't you come off it. You've been baitin' me for a week now." Tiny put the coffee down and spread both arms along the back of the couch. She reared back like a big, tough, strong dyke."
"I have not either!"
"Yes, you have, bitch. Don't give me none of that shit. I ought to whip yo' ass and take me some of that white stank. Did Ella tell you how I fucked her?"
"Were you two going together?"
"Yeah, that's right. I fucked the shit out of Ella. So whatever she's doing for you, I can do better . . . "
"No, thank you!" Randa said, coldly. She put down her coffee cup on the fireplace and started to go toward the bedroom. "Excuse me, I have to get dressed for work. You can stay here if you want. I have to get going!"
"Bitch!" Suddenly Tiny flew into a rage and leaped up. She darted around the couch and caught Randa's arm. "You don't walk out on me while I'm talkin' to you-white whore. Sit yo' ass down and let me tell you a few things-"
"I don't want to fuck you, Tiny. I'm sorry. It's nothing personal-besides, I'm not horny in the mornings-"
"Well, when are you gonna give me some of your pussy?"
"How would Ella like that? Ask to fuck me when she's here."
Tiny grabbed Randa by the hair and shook her-then slammed her back against the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of Randa. She became panic-stricken.
"Are you gonna give me some of that pussy?" Tiny screwed up her face and her large lips snarled.
"Will you kindly let go of me."
"You don't think I mean business, do you?"
Tiny pulled back and punched Randa in the mouth! Then she slapped her continuously.
Randa raised both arms to protect herself and tried to duck. Tiny yanked her around in a circle while bombarding the back of Randa's head with hard blows. Then in one angry thrust, Randa went sprawling to the floor.
Tiny walked over and kicked her in the ribs. Randa moaned and rolled over. Tiny put her foot down on the back of her neck.
"Are we gonna fuck or what?"
"Ella's going to beat your ass good for you. You just wait," sobbed Randa, humiliated.
"You want a beating?"
"You better not hit me again!"
Tiny reached down and dragged Randa by the hair to the couch. She picked her up and slammed her down. Randa drew back in fright.
"Nigger!"
"Yeah, nigger in your pussy!"
The relationship between Tiny and Randa began. Randa found that Tiny's brand of raw, brutal lovemaking turned her on. Ella was good in bed, but she handled Randa with kid gloves. There was also a thrill in knowing that Tiny was black. Tiny was so hot natured that she would love her all day-just as long as Randa could get her nuts. That's what she liked about the black bitch.
Randa was caught in the middle. Tiny would come to the apartment during the day and practically rape her. In the evenings Ella was ready to play her sex games with her body.
Then it happened: Ella came home sick one day and found Randa in bed with Tiny. A fight ensued-and Tiny yanked a great deal of hair from Ella's head. Ella ran out into the kitchen to get a butcher knife. Tiny caught her just as she reached the utility drawer and beat the shit out of her.
Randa finally got them calmed down. When Tiny left Ella jumped on Randa. Randa didn't speak for two days and was cold in bed. Ella naturally assumed that she was still fucking Tiny on the side. She beat Randa without provocation-every chance she got.
Tiny got messages to Randa. Randa would go up to Tiny's apartment. Once, Ella waited outside Tiny's door for five hours.
"Tiny! You black bitch! You better send my woman out of there-or so help me, I'll break this door down!" The police had to be called and Ella was arrested when she assaulted the officers.
Ella spent five days behind bars-she was humiliated because her friends at work knew about it. She quit her job so she could stay home with Randa.
Randa tried her best to keep the peace. But there was a war waged between Ella and Tiny. Each time Ella discovered Tiny and Randa together, she would punish Randa. Randa was brutally beaten, almost to the point where she was unable to walk. To teach Randa a lesson, Ella bought a snake. She knew that Randa was deathly afraid of snakes. The snake was put in a box. Ella waited until Randa was soaking in the bath tub. Then she rushed into the bath room and threw the snake into the tub. Randa went berserk!
That had been the breaking point. Randa had to be brought to the U.C. psychiatric division. She was released, after being advised to find a new place to live; she must break away from Ella and Tiny. Randa took the advice and moved out. For a long while neither Tiny nor Ella could locate her. Then Tiny found her, beat, her, tied her up and stuck a cherry bomb in her vagina. Tiny lit the fuse-it burned down to the stem. Then Tiny snatched it out just in time and threw it across the room. It exploded and so did Randa.
Randa is still recovering from her mental breakdown.
CHAPTER FIVE: THE STALK OF A TWENTIETH CENTURY RAPIST VAMPIRE
The scream sounded like a shot in the night. A metal trash can crashed down on a wet cobblestone street, clanking into the gutter. A single street lamp glowed through a thick muggy fog to cast an eerie light upon two figures in a death struggle. Penelope Black, twenty-two, felt the breath go out of her as she was being strangled by strong hands. She had not seen the attacker come up behind her, before he grabbed her! Her dress was ripped from her body-an iron-clasp grip held her down-then the flash of blue steel pressed hard against her neck. She felt her panties being torn off her body. Then came the hideous length of his vicious penis. She struggled to prevent the intrusion, but then the knife sliced painfully into her flesh, blood spurted over the front of naked titties. She panicked and froze her movements, only aware of the flush sensation that flashed through her body-there was a man inside of her-fucking her savagely! The penis, like a shaft of lightning, his penis fucked in and out, ripping her core! He was worse than a madman, fucking her harder and harder-her head banged against the cobblestones again and again. He grunted and climaxed. He snatched out his penis and pointed it at her mouth just as the semen splashed from his tube-the sticky semen exploding all over her pretty face.
Then the glimmer of blue steel was seen again as the attacker swung the knife high over his head. The screams in the night faded and there was silence again, and the low moan of foghorns.
The London Chronicle carried the story in bold print: JACK THE RIPPER AT LARGE AGAIN!
Late autumn of 1971, London, England was besieged by a wave of rape-murder cases. The victims were all pretty prostitutes. The patterns were similar in each murder: the bodies were found nude, bound with ropes. Both mammaries of each victim had been carefully cut off. Two tiny punctures on the right side of the neck were found. The murders had now numbered twelve. After four months of the hideous murders, Scotland Yard admitted they were baffled.
The murders struck fear into the hearts of women throughout London. The streets were not safe to walk at night and a curfew went into effect. All of London held its breath. Good citizens locked their doors and a cloak of death hung over the city.
Abruptly, as the baffling murders had begun-they stopped. Scotland Yard was again baffled. A news story from America caught the attention of the Yard A psychopathic rape-murderer was on the loose! Four young prostitutes had been victimized.
Scotland Yard was particularly interested because the sex crime patterns were similar to theirs. The bodies found nude, bound with ropes, and the breasts of each victim severed.
Scotland Yard contacted the police officials in Washington, D.C. and requested more information. Homicide Inspector Harry Engles reported back that they had no clues. The Yard asked permission to send an agent to help cover the investigation, since there was a mutual interest.
The agent from Scotland Yard arrived in Washington, D.C. Sergeant Hennison from the homicide detail was in for a big surprise when the agent passed through customs. The London investigator was a woman.
"Hello. I'm Regina Ashley, Scotland Yard."
"Howdy, ma'am. We weren't expecting a lady-I mean-welcome to the United States. Please come right this way."
Regina Ashley was led to an automobile outside the air terminal.
"Inspector Ingles couldn't come to meet you. This case has him tied up. Everybody is screaming for his blood. You know how a city panics when something like this happens. Women are afraid to walk the streets."
Inside the automobile, Regina Ashley sat back and lit a cigarette. She took a deep breath and looked around. At last she had reached America. A lifelong dream had come true. A twist of fate had got her here. Bloody shame it had to be under such circumstances.
"Have you any clues yet?" she asked the sergeant.
"No. It's the freakish thing we've seen here in the Capitol. No explanation. No motive. It's just like one of those old ghost stories with the vampire and all-our victims' throats were punctured and the blood drained from their bodies. I don't suppose you believe in such things, Miss Ashley?"
"I assure you, Sergeant, there are no such things as ghosts, or vampires. Our killer is flesh and blood. Our job is to track him down before he kills more innocent victims. If the victims are innocent. . . "
Regina Ashley met Inspector Ingles at his office. There was a handsome news reporter there with the inspector. Inspector Ingles introduced him as his son, Clark Ingles.
Very briefly, Regina Ashley was given an account of how the rape-murders were committed. The first victim was found one month ago. Since that time there had been six others. Two murders weekly on the average. That alone was enough to set Washington into panic and protest. There were still no clues. The attacker came out of the night, swooped down on his victims, bound and raped them. Afterwards the breasts were cut off. The most puzzling element was the puncture marks left on the victims throats.
"Is there one particular area of the city he kills in?" Regina asked.
"No. Two of the prostitutes were found in their penthouse apartments. We found a few in parks. It looks like it could happen anywhere in the city."
Clark Ingles interrupted. "Miss Ashley, what's a pretty girl like you doing tracking down a psychopathic killer?"
"I'm a criminologist. I think experience is the best teacher. And Scotland Yard thinks very highly of my ability. London also happened to think that there was a link between our criminal and yours. We want this killer just as badly as you do."
"Oh, I see. You're one of those women libbers-on the criminal side," Clark said with a smile.
The smile was not well received. "Not at all, Mr. Ingles. Do you object working with a female?"
"Certainly not."
Inspector Ingles spoke, "You must forgive my son, Miss Ashley. Clark think's he's as smart as his old dad. He's been a super-snoop since he was old enough to read comic books. He's a good reporter, though-likes to stay on top of everything."
"Inspector, I do appreciate your letting me work with your department on this case. And it seems to me, that since there are no clues-we'll have to figure out where the criminal will strike next." Regina spoke after a great deal of thought.
"Sounds easy enough," quipped Clark.
The door opened and an officer spoke to Inspector Ingles. "Inspector, there's been another one! A young girl was found dead at the Wellington Arms."
The Inspector grabbed up his coat and hat. "Miss Ashley, it looks as if you got here just in time. Our killer has struck again."
They arrived at the Wellington Arms where the seventh victim had been found. The body had been found in one of the penthouse apartments. The inspector's men were already there along with laboratory technicians. The body of the dead girl was stretched nude across a king-size water bed, the nipples missing, and two small punctures at the throat.
"How horrible!" exclaimed Regina Ashley.
"It's not a pretty sight. Perhaps you should wait in the outer room," said Inspector Ingles.
"No, go on with the investigation. I'm fine."
Detective Sergeant Harriman began reading information from a note pad. "The girl's name is Elsa Bright. She was twenty-five and a professional call girl. The desk clerk said that he never saw men coming and going. He also said Miss Bright had very few friends. He noticed nothing suspicious preceding the time of the murder. It's too soon to tell now, but it looks like the girl has been dead for over twelve hours. . . "
"All right, thank you, Sergeant Harriman. Finish up with your work. Make sure you guys don't miss anything. Check everything. I can hear the mayor now shouting at me clamoring for my badge."
"It's not fair. It's not your fault!"
"Yeah, but your city hicks don't see it that way. Okay I want to talk with that desk clerk. It's evident that he didn't see all of Miss Bright's friends because our killer got past him tonight."
"You're assuming that the killer was a male."
"Yes, Miss Ashley. Call it instinct. I can't see a female perpetrating these violent crimes. Especially the part about the nipples being sliced away."
Clark added, "This chick must have known her killer because she let him into the apartment."
"We don't know that," replied Captain Ingles.
"There's no sign of a struggle. The furniture is still in place-she had to let him in. There's no way up the side of the building-it's fifteen stories. It's a straight drop off the terrace."
Regina Ashley stroked her chin, moving about the bedroom, stepping around the laboratory technicians. "I'd like to see the list of her clients. Call girls usually keep a date book about. . . "
"We'll do a thorough investigation into her private life. You can be sure of that." Inspector Ingles thought about how smart the British were; he didn't want to be outfoxed by a female snoop.
Then there was a clamor of protest coming from outside in the corridor from news reporters.
"What will you tell the press? "
"No statement. Sorry. Clark, be a good son and take Miss Ashley to get her settled. I have to get to work here. If anything turns up I'll call you. We've arranged for her to stay at the Clinton Manor."
Regina Ashley moved about the apartment deep in thought. "Yes, quite ready now. And, captain, do let me know if you turn up that date book of Miss Bright's."
Clark Ingles drove Regina Ashley directly to the Clinton Manor where the department had reserved a suite for her stay. Clark brought up her baggage and helped her settle.
"There's something about this case that bothers me," she said.
As Regina acquainted herself with the suite, Clark Ingles took the liberty to notice her fine figure. Regina Ashley was typical English stock, reserved, calm, and quite collected. Disregarding the cold surface, she was a pretty woman. A short crop of blond hair and a slender, curvaceous figure, added to her appeal.
"What's that?" he asked.
"I can't put my finger on it yet. But I have these psychic vibrations . . . it'll come to me.. . "
"Well-I'd better be going. I do hope you enjoy your stay in the United States. Have a good night's rest and I'll pick you up for lunch. I'll be done with my work at the newspaper about eleven-thirty and I'll call for you then."
He said good-night and left Regina Ashley alone.
Clark arrived very early the next morning. Regina was preparing for her bath when she admitted him. She dashed back into the bathroom, leaving the door open so they could talk.
"Sorry I'm such a wreck. I slept late this morning with the plane trip and all. Do make yourself comfortable and fill me in."
Clark poured himself a glass of orange juice and mixed in a shot of Vodka. He sat on the couch which faced the bedroom door. The door was open and he could see the reflection of the bath through the mirror on the vanity. He smiled and sat down. He wondered if she had purposely left him such an enchanting view.
"You were right about there being a date book. . . "
"Oh, then they found it-"
He saw a movement in the bath; Regina was stepping into the bath tub. The short blond hair contrasted well with her olive skin and her breasts which were big, wondrous things, firm and luscious. The circles around her nipples were as round as half dollars. Her buttocks, hips, thighs and center were beautiful to behold.
"Yes. Quite an explosive little book. Elsa seemed to have gotten around to high circles. Some of her male clients were the top brass in Washington . . . senators, congressmen, aide to the president. Men you would never suspect. She knew them all."
He couldn't give his full attention to what he was saying. The vision of Regina Ashley's naked body was too disturbing. He raised up to see more of her body. But now he only had the top view of her body.
"We had a nasty bit of scandal not too long ago. If the names in that book of Elsa's were released, it'd probably blow the lid off here in the Capitol."
He saw her step delicately out of the tub and slip into a pair of too-tight panties that choked her upper thighs until they appeared swollen and enlarged. Strands of pubic hair peeked from beneath them at her crotch. Clark sighed longingly and settled back down in his seat.
Regina came into the front room with a terry-cloth robe on. It was a three-quarter length and revealed her sumptuous thighs. Under the robe she looked to be the athletic type; she kept herself in shape pretty well. She spoke, as she dried her hair with a towel. "Clark, did Elsa have a close friend? Usually a call girl has at least one girl friend she takes into her confidence-"
"Yeah. A chick named Janet Boyle."
"Is there an address for this Janet Boyle?"
"I have it written down. You plan to do a little investigating on your own?"
"That's why Scotland Yard sent me here, luv. Do tell me more."
"There's nothing else, except we did establish the time of death."
Clark could barely keep his mind on what he was saying. Regina was a real charmer. As she stood there in front of him, completely relaxed, and uninhibited, flicking her head from side to side-now combing her hair. When she paced the floor she looked so naturally feminine; her hips swayed in a pulsating rhythm while her buttocks quivered in a melody of their own. Each cheek rose and fell, soft and lushly, like butterballs.
The robe was held fast by a belt, but the top was loose enough to see the valley of her exquisite breasts. The robe wasn't together around the bottom. When she made a sharp movement he could see the round thighs, and the cut of her panties. She had a deep tan and the cottontail emphasized the softness. There were traces of white where her bra had concealed her nipples. The whiteness seemed to make them look larger, like golden, milky pineapples. The nipples were bright pink like two bull's eyes! Everything seemed to quake in the softness and her tits shook and swayed so much that she suddenly became embarrassed and brought her arms up to cover the display. This was something he had never suspected of Regina Ashley.
They stared at each other, for the first time realizing they found each other very attractive. Regina had never had much time for men. Clark Ingles was the very first man she had taken a good look at in some time. He wasn't bad at all.
Clark cleared his throat and put out his cigarette. He hoped he had not shown too much admiration in his face. But Regina Ashley was ready for action-he could see it all over her body-the way her legs were fully blown and had that full look that all maturing females acquire when their bodies become overripe. Her thighs swept together warmly, and it was as if he could hear her pussy calling to his penis to come inside her.
He even liked the way she looked with her hair down, and the way she trod on bare toes; carefully, delicately, as though the hot flames inside her cunt were making it difficult to walk. She was toeing on egg shells, afraid that if she stepped too hard, the rich, funky juices would all come spilling out of her hole. She needed a cock for that. He would need more time to see what she was all about. What makes a woman of Ashley's caliber choose a life of crime fighting?
Regina, aware of the prolonged silence, said, "I noticed something. . . . "
"What's that?"
"There was a full moon last night."
"Is that supposed to mean something?"
"I should think so. If we're supposed to believe we're dealing with a vampire. . . "
"Go on, I'm listening."
"Well, luv, I checked. I don't believe in this rubbish about the puncture marks on the girls' throats. However, I did note that several of the killings did occur when there was a full moon."
An eerie sensation ran down his spine. "Which proves?"
"Which proves our killer strikes on full moons. Which proves he is human. If he is human, then he forms behavior patterns, in which case he has left us a clue that's invisible. As to when he will murder again."
"How? When?"
"The next full moon."
That evening, Regina begged off from having dinner with Clark and his father, Inspector Ingles. She had a plan to put into effect. She had gotten Janet Boyle's phone number. She was not sure if the call girls worked through an answering service, but she took the chance. It had been arranged, Janet Boyle had taken the bait. It would cost Regina Ashley one hundred dollars, but Janet Boyle said she would be there at her suite at eight o'clock.
Janet Boyle arrived on time.
"Are you Miss Ashley Regina Ashley?" Janet nearly did not get the question out, completely startled by the lovely face in the doorway.
"Yes. And you are Miss Janet Boyle."
"May I come in?"
Janet gave Ashley a quick once over. Her body wasn't too sexy, but enough to make the job easy. The thought of her being so virginal gave her sexuality a new fire. This woman had the freshly scrubbed glow, and at one time she might have been chubby. However, she was all grown up now, she had ripened into a voluptuous bitch. The miniskirt Ashley wore was so short it was only an inch below her buttocks!
Regina mixed drinks and sat them on the coffee table before the couch. "You're very prompt, Miss Boyle. I must admit I was doubtful of going through with this. But I am happy that you are here now." Regina took her own drink to her lips, her eyes lowered sexily, her face growing more exotic.
Janet could see her mind registering like a computer, deciding how badly she needed this.
Regina decided to play the part. "Stand up for me let's see what I paid for."
Janet Boyle was surprised and became mildly irritated with her professional attitude. She thought about it, then stood up absent-mindedly, brushing her hands over her thighs.
"All right, that's good," Regina said. "You're not bad looking. What's a nice girl like you doing in a business like this? Are you worth all this money?"
"You can make your own conclusions later."
Regina's eyes flashed; she had needed to hear that. The ice was broken and she paced before Janet. She wanted her to pay her more compliments, to be equally as pleased with the prize she was servicing.
"Tell me something," Regina said. "Are there many young ladies doing this sort of thing here in the city? I wonder what other females do when they need something. I had no choice because of my family's name, and frankly, I never thought I would see the day when I would pay a man to ball me. . . "
"Is that the real reason?"
"Oh, I thought it was the answer to some of my hang-ups. Maybe I need to talk with someone. I heard also that prostitutes are similar to psychologists-only there is a bed instead of a couch!"
"Anything you say. It's your time and money. I have all night," she smiled. "As to your question, more and more women are going in for paying for certain services."
"Will you answer other questions, if I decide to ask them later? I have a super-dooper ego and a curious nature. I'm probably like no other woman you'll ever meet. I was engaged to be married, but I ran out on the guy in Paris."
"Why did you come to Washington?"
"I heard this city is for swingers-and a lot of single girls work for the government. I thought it would be a swell place to find myself."
Janet Boyle watched Regina kick off her shoes and fluff out her hair. She then picked up a cigarette box and came and sat down beside her. Janet admired her legs, warm and inviting, and she wished she could see further between them-to see how large her thighs were. To see if they were squeezed tight together, bathing her precious cunt. Janet Boyle had heard many stories about English ladies like Regina Ashley.
English women, supposedly, enjoyed their sex raw-the funkier the better, no restrictions. Regina Ashley did look good all over. She was so ultra-feminine and her gestures said she was a delicate thing inside and out. She wondered what her cunt would taste like; Janet enjoyed women who were easy to fire up.
Regina's long blond hair fell over her eyes. Her fingers tapped the rim of the cocktail glass.
"Are you nervous?" asked Janet.
"Yes."
"You don't want to go through with it."
"It's not that, only . . . "
"Go on, you can talk to me. I'm here to please."
"No-not that-you don't look the type."
"You do want to fuck . "
"I think so."
"Honey, I could love you like nobody else ever will," Janet said as she lifted her skirt and opened her legs. She rubbed her center, viciously, making sure Regina saw it.
Regina, out of her role, fluttered like a bird. "Ah, have you ever done something and didn't know why?"
"Come here, beautiful."
Regina was becoming skeptical; she could start her interrogation now and skip the sex part. She had gotten Janet Boyle here so she could question her. But somehow, knowing she was alone, and it would be her own secret-why not? Indeed, she was horny.
Janet Boyle knew she had to start the action before Regina went off into a memory bank. At first, she only looked at her without moving. Nor did she show any signs that she intended to. Then their eyes locked, which was enough for Regina to stand up.
Janet put her drink down and her hand around Regina's waist. Regina was soft there. Their legs and feet entangled and she lost her footing and they made the electric contact!
"You sure are a fine little ole thing, baby," she whispered, feeling herself get into the mood. Time was money in her profession. She moved her hands along Ashley's body. Ashley stood perfectly still and trembled.
Regina stood with her knees drawn tightly together, as though she intended protecting her pussy from the vicious cunt-sucking Janet Boyle might give her.
Janet Boyle drew Regina closer. She pushed up her hemline, looking straight into her dark, blonde triangle. The sight of so much pussy stunned her! Moist strands that trailed all the way over her panties to her navel. Beautifully entangled, indicating that her passion was just as fiery! It made a frame for the open lips of her cunt, a long succulent slit with a clit that hung out like a ding-dong! Janet knew the taut material of the panties was giving Regina holy hell! It had to be torturous having so much friction burning the head of her clitoris; what misery it must be for her to wear panties all day. Janet was curious about this English bitch. Was her virginal pussy as good as it looked? Would it taste as good? Would she give her all when she went down on her?
Janet Boyle encircled one thigh and hugged the round, firm softness. Then she kissed Regina's tawny skin, moving her mouth from one thigh to the other-kissing, teasing her quaking flesh. From time to time her nose brushed against Regina's crotch and her clitoris-each time Janet did, Regina moaned and cried out in a new series of passionate whimpers.
That was much better. The English bitch was losing her reserve.
"This is going to be a pleasure, honey," teased Janet Boyle. "You taste good all over! Especially between your legs. I bet your pussy is good and hot! Open your legs a little wider for me. Let me look into your cunt."
Janet Boyle's words made Regina's whole body turn to jelly. She reached behind Regina and put her hands over her pert ass. It wasn't a bad little nest, for a young broad. A little fiat, but enough roundness and one flaxen cheek seemed to quiver and explode in her fingers. The panties were skin-tight and they packed in Regina's goodness. The flesh of the buttocks spilled out and over, being chocked and caught at the thighs. The center of her crotch was as wet as a river-spouting leaky juices like a fountain!
"That feels terrific. I like to have my ass squeezed . . . and squeezed. You have good hands, Janet," she whispered, and felt Janet's hand go inside her drawers to mold the spongy flesh there.
Slowly, the panties were pulled off. Janet kissed down from the navel.
A soul-stirring sting of sensation drew out of Regina Ashley's animal traits. The only thing that mattered now was satisfying her throbbing pussy. She had always enjoyed it when a man had eaten her pussy. It alarmed and startled her that a man should want to eat her before sticking his penis in. When she was a lot younger, several of her dates tried to suck her pussy because she refused to give them any. Once she had let Jerry Dunigan lick around her pussy for a little while, and in fact, when anyone did suck her cunt, she usually reached two or three climaxes before they finished. That is, when she found the time to have sex with anybody.
Most of the time it was hard for Regina to reach a climax because her vagina remained in a constant state of heat . . . her drawers stayed wet all day. The slimy insides, the vaginal fluid flowed fire and gnawed at her with a horny sensation. When she walked, her meaty thighs were hot pillars coming together to pull her panties taut, applying tantalizing friction over her clit. Sometimes she had to stop and stand still until the eruption of her volcano cooled!
As soon as Janet Boyle kissed her pussy-Regina felt faint. The touch of Janet's tongue with its course fibers, felt like sandpaper, pricking her clitoris. Then she sucked the lips apart and the whole pussy lay open. Regina felt Janet take her clitoris between her teeth and nibble it. It was more than she could bear.
"Oh, don't bite, Janet. Be tender," she begged.
Janet Boyle, the professional, sucked all the harder.
"Don't tell me how to do my thing; nobody tells me how to do my thing!"
However, Janet decided to have mercy. She did not want Regina to blow her stack-not just yet. Pretending that her tongue was a penis, she stuck it inside Regina's vagina-curious to see how she would fuck if she were a man. The tunnel of the cunt was not very deep, a shallow hole belonging to a baby! Not many penises had been there because the muscles of her inner walls were still strong. She had never been fucked real hard. And that was exactly what Janet would like to do. Janet was going to make sure Regina got a good fucking tonight!
She turned Regina around. Now the pert buttocks were facing her mouth. Janet Boyle, the professional, dug her fingernails into the cheeks. Then she cupped one round ball and lapped her tongue up and down. She licked over the cheek, then switched to the other one determined to set fire to this English bitch's asshole.
Regina could not stand still any longer. The tongue gorging in and out her rectum was too much. She was embarrassed, and her face, as well as her ass, turned bright red.
Janet Boyle pushed her forward a bit-so she could get down in between the valley of buttocks.
Regina was hot enough now. Janet Boyle pushed Regina away and stood up. She smiled sinisterly, and stripped in a matter of seconds. So quick that Regina was somewhat pissed because she did not get the chance to see all of the sexy body.
Regina took Janet into the bedroom and turned back the covers. Janet climbed on top and began fucking her hips down into Regina's pussy box. Their thighs interlocked, and they were pussy to pussy! Janet reached down and stretched both pussies apart-to make sure that the clits were touching. It was more exciting when she did this for Regina. To actually have another clitoris meeting your own, with equal electricity.
Janet showed no mercy now. She took advantage of Regina's horniness and lack of experience to burn her to a crisp! The bed rocked and banged against the wall.
Then it was all over for Regina. Then Regina fucked Janet, and much to the professional's surprise-Regina made her go off in a matter of minutes!
Janet Boyle lay stretched out on the bed, her breasts heaving, trying to get her breath back. Regina Ashley rose and put on her robe, mixed a drink and came back to sit on the side of the bed.
"Here, honey-take a swig. Then we have something to discuss. . . "
There was something in Regina's voice that told Janet Boyle she had been played for a chump. Regina's voice took on the cold authority of a cop. Janet Boyle knocked the drink from Regina's hand.
In a lightning move, Regina slapped her hard across the face and pushed her back on the pillow.
"Now listen, you dumb broad. I need some information. It's unofficial. I'm the law, but I'm off-duty-working on a special case."
"You fucker! You creep! I knew something was wrong 'with this setup. You British are all the same-cold-hearted bastards!"
"Shut up and listen to what I have to say. Elsa Bright was your best friend. You know that she was murdered-"
"Yeah, sure by some freak. It happens in our profession. She knew what she was getting into. . . "
"You're wrong. It's a freak all right, but one somewhat different than you'd ever know. The person who killed Elsa was a homicidal psychopath-and he'll kill again if you don't help us!"
"Help you, how?"
"We need to know more about her. What kinds of things she was into. What did she do the day before the killing-was she seeing anybody special?"
"Elsa was a funny girl to know. She wasn't seeing anybody special-she didn't dig on men. They were a means to her living, and nothing more. If you know what I mean. But Elsa wanted the moon and she gave life her best shot. It wasn't long before she had made contact with some of our nobler government officials. Her cover was keen, because of all the call girls, Elsa was the only one who's name was on all the guest lists in Washington. Two days before she was killed she said that she had been contacted by Big Shot he wanted her to meet some guy who was visiting here. This party was to be set up especially for that. That's all she told me."
"Whose party?" Regina waited anxiously, knowing that the clue could lie in what Janet Boyle had to say.
"It was at the home of Senator Langley. . . "
"And who was this important visitor?"
"Elsa didn't tell me that. That's all I can tell you about Elsa."
"That's quite enough, sweetheart. Now just forget this little visit. It never happened. Here is another two hundred dollars. I can't tell you how much of a help you've been, honey. Now get your ass up and get out of here. I have some work to do. . . "
When Janet Boyle had left, Regina picked up the phone and went to work.
Janet Boyle had said Elsa Bright had attended a party last Sunday which was the tenth of October. If the good Senator Langley had guests, undoubtedly they would have arrived two days prior to the party. The guests would have to be well vested before Langley exposed them to a party. Therefore, if they were from another country they would have, more than likely, stopped off in New York, and then flown to Washington. It was all hypothetical, but Regina checked it out. In her mind, she had already envisioned that the visitor would be
British--if her killer in London was to match the killer in Washington. She sensed that such a person, who would commit such brutal murders, would undoubtedly be a little squeamish about flying. It felt right. She followed her premonition and checked all the logs of ocean liners that docked in New York harbor on the eighth of October . . . looking specifically for British-sounding names. Lord James Edmington stuck out like a sore thumb. Lord Edmington had arrived by ocean liner Friday, October the eighth-accompanied by his nineteen-year-old daughter, Alicia.
Lord Edmington and his daughter took a plane from New York to Washington. It was too much of a coincident. Regina called Clark and asked for his assistance. He confirmed her suspicion, there was a Lord Edmington, and a daughter. They were house guests at the home of Senator Langley.
Regina called Clark and asked for information on Senator Langley. Senator Langley, Clark told her, had been a public servant all his life. He was close to the president and above suspicion. Regina did not agree. Then she told him about Lork James Edmington being the senator's house guest. Lord Edmington was then the man in question.
Scotland Yard answered Regina's query about Lord Edmington. At best, they could only come up with a sketchy history of the man. His family had always been nobles down through generations, and on the mother's side of the family tree, he was related to the Queen. As a young man, Lord Edmington had been known to squander investments. He was, as Scotland Yard explained, a bit of the black sheep of the family. Edmington had published papers on the supernatural, The World Without End, early in 1950. He had achieved no great notoriety on his work, but was said to hold séances from time to time, which only included close friends.
In Regina Ashley's mind it all began to tie in. It was just possible that Lord Edmington had some kind of mental disease, perhaps a brain tumor that made him commit such horrid murders. What was she doing? She was convicting the man without a trial; thus far, the man was guilty of nothing-except in the figment of her imagination.
They were in good luck. The coming Saturday night there was going to be a formal dinner party at the Sinclairs, who were very close friends to the Langleys. Regina and Clark were certain that Langley would bring along his house guests. It just so happened that the Sinclairs and Clark's father were very old friends.
Saturday night, Regina, Clark, and Captain Ingles attended the dinner party at the Sinclair estate. Regina was indeed impressed. She had read about the staunch, stuffy dinner parties given by the dignitaries of Washington. It was all true. There were about fifty guests, all of whom were world-known. It seemed unreal to Regina, seeing so many famous people in one room. It was a great deal like the affairs of court that went on back home in England.
"I hope you two will be satisfied when you see how ridiculous this is," Captain Ingles said, in a somewhat grumpy mood. He had wanted to throw Regina's theory right out the window.
"At least give her a chance, dad," said Clark. "Let's take a look at the guy. If he's innocent, he has nothing to worry about. Guilty, and you'll be in for a promotion. Let Regina have a go at this guy."
"I told you, captain, I work on hunches. I'm psychic. I just know I have the right man. . . "
"No motive."
"I know. I know. When I see him, I'll know."
Regina's moment came, when shortly before dinner they were introduced to Howard Sinclair and Senator Langley, along with Lord Edmington and his daughter, Alicia. They exchanged formalities with Regina, introducing herself as a news reporter from London. Thereby giving herself and Lord Edmington common ground for communication. She told him that she had heard of his good work in the field of psychic phenomena-and further, she would love to chat with him on the subject.
Lord Edmington, a tall man, well over six-feet-four-inches, portrayed a picture of total disinterest. He had sensed that this woman was making herself available to him. For what purpose, he was not sure.
The group was disengaged when dinner was announced.
Regina Ashley was sure she had her man. Throughout dinner, she could not take her eyes off the slender, plastic face of Lord Edmington. There was something very cold about the man; his eyes were beady, his cheeks sunken.
His brows were those of the devil himself. He moved slowly and no emotion was exhibited over which he had no control. His young daughter reminded Regina of a librarian. Although she hated to knock a fellow countryman, Alicia was ugly, extremely pasty and white. But her features were good. There was not one single feature she could point to that made her total look so displeasing. Poor, sickly-looking child, Regina thought.
"Cut it out, Miss Ashley-you're staring at the man. You're making me uncomfortable," Clark warned, sitting beside her at the dinner table. Then he turned and engaged in polite conversation with the guests.
Throughout the after-dinner conversation, Regina watched the clock. Slowly, the evening dragged on, a mixture of light chatter and political philosophies. At eleven-thirty, she still followed every move Lord Edmington made. Quarter to eleven, she noticed that he suddenly became drawn and weak. He seemed to be more pale than before. Her eyes switched to his daughter. Alicia was at his elbow, as if frightened. They were both edgy, nervous about something. Then Regina saw them rush for the front door where they said goodnight to the host. When Regina looked at the clock again, it struck midnight.
In a moment of great inspiration, she leaped to her feet, knocking serving trays from the hands of a waiter, and dashed outside. The night air stung her face. There was no one there. Lord Edmington had disappeared. Vanished into the night, she thought. They couldn't have had time to get into the car, start it, and drive away that quickly. No way. There was something peculiar going to happen. Regina Ashley knew then that she was on to something.
Affiter dropping his father off, Clark took Regina to an after-hour discotheque called Robbies. They danced and had a good time. For a moment it looked as though Regina was going to let her hair down!
The last dance of the evening was a slow one. They had both had a bit too much to drink. Clark held Regina close in his arms. For a moment it seemed as though they paused for the initial contact of their bodies. Clark was much taller than Regina, and she fitted closely between his thighs. It wasn't a position that she especially cared for because her bust was against his lower chest, pressed tightly, and his penis was warm on her stomach. Then Regina slightly pulled back as though a hot poker touched her, when she began to feel his manhood surge.
He was aware of her breasts squeezing into his chest and he was between two beautiful pillows. The valley between Regina's thighs was hot to his penis, which he could feel rising slowly, searching out for that sweet warmth of her femininity.
"You know, in a funny way-I'm glad I met you." He decided not to be smooth, as usual, when on the make, but to show his boyish charms.
"Ohhh . . . yes," she whispered, feeling" for the first time how his penis was. throbbing against her. "I'm happy to have had this chance to work with you also."
"Well-you know, you just don't think of detectives as being pretty Women. You're so pretty that you throw a guy. You know?"
"Yes, yes, thank you. I'm very flattered," she said, in her very calm British manner.
Regina was happier than he thought because she didn't back off from the penis he was pushing between her legs.
"I know this is going to sound clumped up, but I'm really taken by your charms, your wit. It's a pleasure having met a woman who has an inner quality, rather than just a sexy body," he told her.
"Oh?"
"I'm only sorry that I didn't meet you earlier -in life. . . "
"Mr. Ingles-I think you had better watch what you say. I think you're a wee bit tipsy. It is getting late."
They stopped at the table long enough to finish their drinks. Then they left the club. They were soon at the hotel and Clark led her through the garden and in through the side entrance. On the way up, Regina was placid and once or twice she looked at him in a regretful way; as though she was having a furious battle with her moral conscience.
He was trying desperately to decide if he should make the big push tonight. Regina was stoned and pretty well warmed up; it wouldn't be that difficult. All he had to do was take advantage of her mellow feeling. But then, if she wasn't really stoned, she would know right away that he was a phony, on the make for a quick lay. She was a very sensitive girl and it was a sensitive moment of decision for both of them.
As Regina walked ahead of him going down the hallway, he saw how trim and pretty her legs were. How the miniskirt rose and fell, hinting, exposing her upper proportions. She was a tall shapely chick-lusciously filled and needing a king-size cock in her pussy. There was so much that cried eager in the carriage of her sexy torso. He remembered how uninhibited she was in her apartment after showering.
When they reached the door to her suite, Regina handed him the key. He moved in front of her and unlocked the door. He held it open for her and he arrogantly stepped aside to admit her, pretending he was angry because she was saying good-night. Her eyes caught the action and she fluttered up like a lost bird.
"Oh, really, Clark. What can I say-but thank you . . . it's been an evening I'll always remember. I do wish that I wasn't so tired-but I'm beat.. . "
He didn't say anything.
"Oh, I say. I suppose I could offer you something to drink. You may come in if you like."
She looked drained as she ushered him inside and clicked on the lights.
"Hey, listen," he took her hand. Regina turned slowly, knowing that he wanted to kiss her; she held her face away and spoke without looking at him. "Please, don't Clark. It's been so beautiful until now. I appreciate what you're trying to say. But I just can't right now."
Clark held her in his arms and tried to kiss her. Regina seemed to come alive, suddenly. Their lips met, and she paused to see what there might be in his kiss-that pause was long enough for Clark to maneuver his hands down her back. He was not sure he should feel the ass of a lady of this caliber. Regina was such a lady. He could not resist. Before he realized it, his hands were cupping over her round buttocks and testing for softness.
Regina was embarrassed and passive at the same time. His caresses felt good, but she could not let herself behave like a common animal.
Regina felt good in his arms; they went well together. It was easy to hold her and caress over her body. She was particularly hot in the center of her thighs; he attacked her there by rubbing his thigh in and out. Soon she was forced to ride his leg with her cunt flat out against it.
Regina flung her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. They toppled backward until they reached the couch. Clark reached to unfasten her dress. Regina very calmly stopped him. She stepped away from the couch and began to undress.
Her eyes never left his all the while she stripped away her clothes. Finally, she stood there naked before him. "We English believe in doing tilings correctly the first time. If you don't have time to do it right the first time-when will you ever find time to do it a second time?"
Clark held his breath not believing his good fortune. So, Regina Ashley was human after all. She was a woman with a cunt who needed a cock. He reached for her and put his hands around her waist. He pulled her into his face and kissed her stomach. He licked over the navel, down and around, and just over the top of her bushy blond fuzz. The taste of her skin was delicious.
He pushed her back a little-to have room to lick between her thighs. He spread them apart and noticed how round and fleshy the inner thighs were. He adored that portion of a woman's body. He mouthed the inner lobes of her thighs, then took a mouthful.
"Hmmm, you're beautiful, Ashley-"
"Call me Regina-we know each other well enough now." She tried to move, but Clark's hot breath was burning her cunt unmercifully. She could feel the warmth seeping through her pubic hairs, bothering her hole. tie ran his hand up and down the back of her knees. She let him move his hands up further along her legs. He touched her buttocks and tickled his finger in between the cheeks. There was something about the way he felt her up that both repulsed and thrilled her at the same time. He seemed to know that women enjoyed being made to feel risqué.
While he dug in her ass, his face was pushing up into her pussy hole. It was an awkward struggle, so Regina resigned herself and helped him. She wiggled her ass a bit and fucked into his mouth. Gradually, she drew down to the couch. Clark stood up and tore off his trousers. His penis shot out like a sword! He positioned himself on the couch between her legs. He guided his stiff penis into her pussy hole. Regina took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. He was much too large for her. He shoved an inch of penis into her slit. He shoved again and thought he was going to shoot off. Regina Ashley's pussy was like being inside a hot furnace -she had closed the door tight around his crown-he was trapped-with the head of his cock sticking into a juicy hell hole! She wiggled and flames flickered around the ridge of his crown. She moaned and groaned as if it was the best dick she had ever had.
Slowly, he made progress he was three inches into her pussy and searching for the bottom. It was getting better and better-his load was building to an unbelievable peak.
He fucked to the right, barely in her pussy. He fucked to the left. Regina moved about, making the target difficult to penetrate. Clark had to catch her buttocks in his hands to hold her steady. His ass pumped up and down like a jackhammer . . . the semen already spilling from his prick tube. He tightened his muscles to hold back the flood. Each stroke he made was like a slow, beautiful release. It was just getting to the stage where he could let himself go, when the phone rang.
The phone call was from Clark's father. There had been another rape killing.
The automobile came to a screeching halt. Clark and Regina got out and ran to the small group of police officers. There was an ambulance and two squad cars blocking off the street.
"We found this one about an hour ago. It looks like our boy has struck again. How do you explain this one, Miss Ashley?"
Regina looked down at the path of earth where the body had been. There were chalk marks outlining the body. A photographer snapped his last shot.
"This case is a little different. We found the same puncture marks on the throat, but on both sides this time. So there were four all together. From the looks of things, rape was not the primary motive. When we found the girl her dress had been ripped down the front, and her nipples sliced off. She was stretched out in a pool of blood."
"Inspector Ingles, was there any identification found? " asked Regina.
"That's another thing that was different, which blows your theory to pieces, Miss Ashley. This girl was a secretary for the government. All the others had been prostitutes."
"Sorry, dad! I guess you'll really be called out on the carpet. This makes the eighth victim!"
"If only we had some kind of a lead."
"Pardon me, but where are we? This all looks familiar to me somehow," said Regina.
"Don't tell me you feel some kind of psychic power? You think you've been here before?"
"I know you men think women are stupid, but sometimes we sense things. Where is this place?"
Then both men looked at each other. The idea had not occurred to them, but they were only one mile from the Sinclair estate, where they had attended the dinner party earlier.
"Naw, it couldn't be. I know what you're thinking-"
"How can you when I don't-" she replied.
"What my father is trying to tell you is that we are less than one mile from the Sinclair estate."
"I knew it! I sensed it."
"You sensed what?"
"Never mind, Inspector Ingles. We'll let you get back to your work. Clark, will you drive me back to my hotel! I think I know how to burst this case wide open!"
The next morning the phone in Regina Ashley's apartment did not answer. Clark Ingles became frantic with worry. He rushed over to the hotel. The desk clerk said that Regina had left early, before eight o'clock. There were no messages for Clark. Now it was he who sensed danger. Where the hell could Regina be? Had she been taken against her will.
On the morning of October 18th, Regina Ashley parked the car she had rented in front of the circular driveway of the Sinclair estate. When greeted at the door, the servant told her that the senator and his wife were not in. Regina asked if Lord Edmington was receiving visitors. She was asked to wait at the door while the butler disappeared into the study.
Suddenly, Lord Edmington loomed in the doorway of the study. He dismissed the butler and asked Regina Ashley to come into his study.
Regina felt chilled and very much in danger as she went into the dark study. It was a room with a tall ceiling and there were bookcases surrounding the walls. The French windows were closed and draped. There was very little sunlight coming in through the curtains. Lord Edmington, his face drained, seated himself behind the desk.
"What can I do for you, Miss Ashley? I dare say you didn't just chance by this morning . . . "
Lord Edmington was wearing a smoking jacket, a black ascot choked around his neck with a gold pin. His grim eyes cut into Regina like an X-ray.
"I say, I hope I didn't disturb you, sir."
Regina stood there longer than need be, wanting him to see her. This morning she knew she was breathtaking. It had taken long hours to apply her make-up, and everything was just so. The face was fresh, having that early morning glow, rosy cheeks and bright white smile. It quickly faded.
"Let's not play games, Miss Ashley. You underestimate me, as I had underestimated you. Had I known that you were on my trail, believe me, it would have been a different story. However, since I am in a strange country-there were circumstances beyond my control."
"Well then, you are the man I was looking for," Regina said, trying to remain calm with her arms folded over her sumptuous bust.
"You are a clever woman," he said. "How did you know I was the killer? You might as well tell me, Miss Ashley. You don't have much longer to live."
"Why?" She was outraged, realizing that she had solved her case. Lord Edmington was the rape killer.
Lord Edmington stood up and went to the cabinet. He opened it and there was a mirror inside. He stepped in front of it. "Now-what do you see?"
Lord Edmington had no reflection.
"Incredible!" she said, calmly.
"There are many things on this planet human beings do not understand. This planet is only a stopping-off place; there is another side where we do our life's work."
"You know, of course, that you will be apprehended. You don't dare kill me because my friends, Inspector Ingles and his son will come looking for me."
"Nonsense. You wouldn't have found me if it hadn't been for your psychic powers. You had best say a prayer. We have need of your substance now. . . "
"What part does Senator Sinclair play in all this? Does he know what you are?" Regina asked.
"Of course, Miss Ashley. Sinclair is a member of our devil's cult, in America." Lord Edmington pushed a button on the desk and the door to the study opened.
Alicia and the butler stood there, leering at her. The butler moved toward Regina on Lord Edmington's command. Regina's mind searched for some means to escape. She drew back into a corner, preparing to defend herself. Lord
Edmington raised his hand in a symbolic gesture instantly Regina Ashley was put into a deep trance and became paralyzed.
"Take her down to the basement. I will deal with her later."
When Regina regained consciousness she found herself locked in a dark basement that looked like an ancient dungeon. High above her was a window and a shaft of moonlight sliced the darkness. Her eyes gradually became accustomed to the eerie black surroundings. This place looked like the torture chamber used in the early thirteenth century. There was a long black table that sat in the middle of the dungeon. An old metal door clanked shut at the top of the staircase. She heard footsteps descending the stone steps. Then there stood Lord Edmington and Alicia.
"What are you going to do with me?" Regina asked. She made no sound. She was powerless to speak. She was shocked to discover that when she tried moving her limbs, she could not.
Alicia carried a candelabrum of nickering candles. She put it down on the table and looked at Regina. The light from the candles distorted Alicia's features and Regina cringed.
Lord Edmington stood in the background. Regina's eyes flashed back to Alicia. There was a royal blue cape with blood-red lining around Alicia's shoulders. Alicia's face was drawn one side of her face was twisted, and the muscles stretched her mouth hideously. Before Regina's eyes, Alicia was undergoing a strange process of disfiguration: the face that was once young and beautiful was now aging, transcending into a milky white of ageless, caked fish.
Alicia's eyes were yellow in the dark, bloodshot, drilling into Regina's.
Regina felt fright as never before. Alicia came closer. She spread her arms and opened the cape. She was naked beneath-and her body was no longer that of a child, but of a woman hundreds of years old.
Alicia's right hand clutched the neck of a dead chicken. The chicken had been plucked of its feathers; it, too, was naked and scaly-looking. Blood dripped from where its neck used to be-onto the cold, stone dungeon floor.
They were face to face. Regina wanted to scream and end this nightmare. She could only stand there and see the bloody chicken touch her tawny flesh.
Regina's head dropped to see Alicia rub the chicken over her breasts. The blood painted Regina's body crimson. When this was done, Alicia threw off the cape and kneeled before Regina.
Slowly, the aging flesh of Alicia hunched forward and began licking Regina's body. She fastened her mouth to the trembling breasts. She bit down hard on the nipples and rolled them in her mouth. Alicia devoured the English woman's body with gluttonous jowls. She moved her mouth down Regina's side, across her stomach, and down to the entanglement of pubic hairs.
Lord Edmington stood beside his hideous daughter; his eyes savoring the sumptuous curves of Regina's body. He raised her hair to bare the back of Regina's neck. He leaned over and kissed her there to taste of the succulent beauty.
"What a beautiful child she is" he said, in a mysterious voice from some other world.
"Yes, master she is so young and tender . . . . "
When Alicia had thoroughly licked Regina's body clean, she reached open Lord Edmington's cape. She bowed her head before lifting his penis in her fingers. Regina heard her say, "Oh, master, we are here to do your biddingto obey the serpent of life that hangs between your legs."
Regina could only move her eyes. She saw Alicia, her face a thousand years old now, press against Lord Edmington's penis.
The penis was like none she'd ever seen. It indeed looked like an evil serpent, coiled and lumped, like a boa constrictor. It overlapped its length, and a red shiny apple-size crown hissed in the air squirming like a periscope, searching for the pussy now a foot away.
Oh, no! Not that hideous thing! Regina died a little inside, but nevertheless she could feel her pussy properly boiling. He must not touch her with that snake-like phallus. But what could she do to prevent it? She was under the spell of this vampire and his blood-thirsty daughter.
"Lay her down on the rack. The time is at hand and the hour hastens past."
"Yes, master. I will do as you say. For soon it will be midnight. Soon we will have this virgin's blood to restore our youth and cast off this ugly skin that befell our bodies. . . "
"Quickly. I have need of her. This evil, devil's spirit within my phallus will not be patient a moment longer."
He threw back his cape and it fell to the floor. Regina had been placed upon the rack. Lord Edmington hovered over her, his phallus dangling, uncoiling, and slithering toward the golden thighs.
The head of the phallus pinpointed the open vagina and its length stiffened. Lord Edmington looked down upon himself-as if he had no control over the throbbing linkage of phallus -now descending into Regina's pussy!
His body cast a long shadow over her blond, ravishing body. Somehow, the horror mirrored on her face made it a delight to fuck her. Lord Edmington, the hideous man that he was, was not of the human species. He was centuries old and his blood line was rooted in the savage prehistoric caveman. Pussy was more than a substance to be possessed by his long phallus-pussy was the transfusion by which he existed. To be knee-deep in bottomless pussy was to know life itself. It was a labor of love by which he restored himself that he may live yet another century.
He and his giant-sized phallus had an obligation to the gods of evil to cleanse this female creature of the bitchiness within. To fuck her so thoroughly clean, that she would then be pure as when first born into this world. His cock could go where no man dared, for he alone, through divine evilness, knew the inner working of a true woman's mind. He knew what delight the penis was for her, and she would be helpless but to obey the master with the most furious cock. . .
He raised both her legs so her knees were touching her tits. Regina Ashley was too reserved, too cold, too much of a liberated bitch to fuck, as you would an everyday female. The penetration into her vagina must be deep-to establish which of the souls bore the masculine title.
Her legs up he pushed the crown of his cock into her small pussy. The lips were tight and dry Regina was still frightened. He had no time to make her juicy enough to free-float a fuck to her. He shoved his tip hard into her center; the lips gave way and he was a good three inches into her tunnel. Inside the pussy there was more moisture, and he rolled his crown around and around in a tight circle to lubricate his shaft. He froze and noticed how hot the walls were, and how even though Regina pretended to be frightened, her pussy nonetheless contracted and tried to get a perfect fit on his dick.
He fucked her easily to begin with, to throw her off the track. She had expected a hard thrashing, with Lord Edmington grunting like a madman, possessed by the call of her cunt. He did not rape her, but seduced her senses to a hot frizzle where every stroke his dick would make, she would be aware of. His crown lay in the opening of her pussy like a giant snake resting getting energized and throbbing, each throb increasing the size of the crown. Until it fumed and swelled up like a tight balloon. He had literally plugged up Regina's cunt hole.
It was then that he viciously rammed his dick straight up her hole. His top hit rock-bottom and he threw his weight into her, fucking to break down that false bottom. All females present one level as the depth of their cunt holes. This is so nice men won't think their pussy is too big. They always tighten up their cunts until the going gets good and then they let loose-and a cock of any sizable length will sink yet another fathom.
His stiff, long dick took him well below her third level now. They were fucking into eternity, for he had the will to lift her through the deep trance he had put her into. She was experiencing the sensation of having stepped off into space floating amid astral organs being inside a tickle that was bliss, and then some. She could touch stars, and float from planet to planet, see wondrous things, a hallucination that was more real than life, as long as he fucked her thrashingly, brutally in machine-gun spurts. She screamed in horror, and utter delight, with mixed emotion. This devil of a man-creature was inside her soul, his evil power had taken her where no penis had. Truly, his length would slide through her midsection up into her mouth where she could, perhaps, suck his crown while he fucked her.
His good dick made the moment a shower of glorious fantasies!
He was reborn again through the carnal spirit by watching the expression on her face, as he drove deep into her pussy. Not leaving her an inch to spare, while fucking her so hard and deep, her mouth was open and gasping for breath. He humped her deep, and added a twist to his strokes, that caused a movement at the top of her cervix. It thrilled her beyond imagination. A dick that really screwed. But then she thought that was only because this man was one of the devil's own, and his penis was, perhaps, in reality, a serpent perhaps that same ancestry that tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden.
It must be. It was too good. No other explanation would satisfy her, because every woman dreams of being taken by the sheer power, and force of a gluttonous man! A man who cared nothing for morals, and saved no bright moment, than that which he felt while burrowing knee-deep in her good worth. It was then that Regina Ashley felt she was all about something a part of this universe. A hard, stiff, burrowing gorge of an evil dick was the only thing that would satisfy that empty void that pleased her femininity.
She knew that he would no doubt take her life when he had finished with her. It was that thought that made it so funky. The fuck of death! Maybe there was in her feminine will power, the power to fuck him to death, while he mounted her. To make it so good to the snake dick inside her, that she would send him into a cardiac arrest! Just whip her pussy on him in such a way that it would blow his circuit. Even the devil could be pussy-whipped. And indeed, she had the devil, himself scraping", cleaning out the fifth, and sixth level of her bottomless pussy.
She opened her pussy up to him in such a way as to say there was no more left after fourteen inches of his dick but he seemed to know that she could go on climaxing, and stretching her pussy forever just as long as he had another stab to take she'd give it up.
In the depths of her warm pussy, he had descended his stiff cock to her eighth level they had reached a sexual beta. Into which they floated out into a hollow shell and the world was a silent whisper. They met there in a different form than Regina had known, outside her body. This fucking had taken her inside her body actually inside her vagina.
From where they stood upon the soft, pink tissues of her inner lining, they could see the round head of his penis moving at them. They were at the end of her tunnel looking back at her vagina walls contracting over the head of his dick.
Together they grew smaller and smaller, beyond the size of a single molecule, split in half, until the goodness enveloped them and an electric current ignited and they exploded back into full bloom and emerged as a glorious orgasm!
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no . . . stop it! It's too good!" screamed Regina Ashley opening her eyes and realizing she was still in the hideous dungeon, and this devil man was on top of her.
"I must have it all!" he said grumpily, seeing that his will was weakening. Regina had somehow broken his power, while they were in the house of beta.
Regina also had psychic powers. Hers lay with goodness.
"Kill her now," screamed Alicia. "She is of another spirit."
Alicia clawed at Lord Edmington's back to get him off Regina. It was she who was working the spell, with her legs coupled over his back and her pussy fucking a mile a second they were stuck.
"Master, I beg of you stop!"
"I cannot! I must show her that our will is greater than good will. . . "
Regina said nothing, not understanding most of it, for she was still drugged and in a trance stage. But she did know that her pussy was not a part of her any longer, some other force had taken possession, devouring the serpent within her.
There was a struggle between Alicia and Lord Edmington. He was pulled back and off the pussy.
"My lord, come to yourself. It is two minutes to midnight! We must drink her blood. . . "
"Yes, yes, you're right," he breathed heavily, looking around the dungeon wildly. His mind racing frantically, knowing that the blood ritual must be completed before midnight or he and Alicia would perish.
It was life or death for the both of them.
They stood with Regina between them. They both simultaneously leaned over her neck . . . their mouths open and suddenly there were long front fangs that materialized like magic.
Regina screamed for her life!
Their fangs pricked the skin on her neck . . . and she held her breath.
"Hold it right there, Lord Edmington!"
Voices came from the top of the stairs.
Clark Ingles came flying through the air from the top of those steps. He crash landed on Edmington and the table holding Regina toppled over. Alicia screamed and grabbed up her cap and flung it before her face spreading her arms into wings.
There was confusion as Inspector Ingles and two policemen ran down the steps. Clark and Edmington wrestled into a dark corner. Alicia in fright picked up the candelabrum and threw it at the chasing policemen. They leaped back. The candelabrum crashed to the floor and ignited. Flames rose up instantly, separating Alicia and the policemen.
"Get back! Watch the fire."
"Somebody grab Regina . . . "
"Clark!" Inspector Ingles called through the smoke and flames.
No answer came from the corner of the dungeon. Then the inspector saw his son come stumbling into view, holding his neck.
"He bit me."
"Never mind, grab Regina and let's get out of here."
There was another loud noise from the corner and a tremendous crash as wooden posts gave way and cracked. The last thing they all saw before escaping the dungeon was Lord
Edmington, body aflame, his arms outstretched like a burning cross . . . and they heard his pitiful cries of agony just before he went up in smoke!
It was a long drive from the Sinclair estate back to police headquarters. Regina Ashley sat beside Clark Ingles, slowly regaining her composure.
"A job well done, Miss Ashley-"
"I thought I was finished. I'm happy you found me. That was a good piece of detective work in itself."
Clark asked, "How did you know it was the lord?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth. I sensed it. Lord Edmington was not only a cult leader but he also believed in Communism. He had lived in Wales, in a small village where the party drew up a master plan to destroy the United States. He came to London to confer with higher members of. the party. But Lord Edmington was indeed a vampire, of sorts. He had a very rare disease and only certain types of blood would save his life. Which was the reason for killing the girls. They purposely severed the breasts from the victims to throw the cops off . . . to make the crimes appear more bizarre and perpetrated by a mad, rape killer . . . "
"And the senator, what was his part in it?"
"Senator Sinclair was born in Southhampton, England. He was taught Communism since he was three years old. His father was an army captain, so the party figured that his cover would be perfect. They trained him during all those early years to take office in this country. Simple. Sinclair was a member of the devil cult and it all fell right in line. He was supposed to have spearheaded the Communist plan I think we interfered just in time!"
"Miss Ashley you are amazing. I'm happy to say that this case is closed."
Inspector Ingles had a broad smile on his face when he saw his son kissing Regina. Regina would be a welcome member to their family.
CHAPTER SIX: PRISON DEATH RAPE
Warden Gillespie of Chesapeake Prison, was particularly hated by the convicts in cell block 711. The leader of that cell block was Lefty Malone, the most notorious killer inside the gray walls. Lefty was serving out a lifetime sentence. However, he had made a vow to get Warden Gillespie for running a pig stall.
Lefty's chief complaint was that the prisoners were treated like dogs! The sanitation was poor, the food was lousy, and they were kept segregated, not by their choice but by the administration's choice. They kept the blacks and Mexican Americans isolated from the whites. The most common place for the outbursts of heated racial tensions was the TV room. Usually, the whites controlled the channels, deciding what programs they watched. One night, Hee Haw was seen and a fist fight ensued.
Lefty admitted that most of the prisoners deserved to be in the tank. But most were victims of their environment, and poverty but they were still human beings. No one seemed to care on the outside. The mail was strictly censored and they were virtually living in a hell. It made Lefty puke each time he saw the warden. Warden Gillespie had put Lefty Ma-lone in solitary confinement because during an open-house inspection by the city supervisory board, Lefty screamed that the whole thing was staged. The prison had been washed down the day before. They were given good food on the day of the inspection. Lefty made his point known. Nevertheless, he was thrown into solitary.
Lefty had thoughts about taking over the prison. He had that much power; the inmates would follow him to death's door and back. But hearing what had happened at Attica, Lefty thought better of the idea. It would probably turn out to be a slaughter with his pals getting the worst of it.
There had to be some action that he knew would make all the heads on the outside turn. Then one evening after supper, Lefty decided what he was going to do.
On March 31, 1972, one of the most daring escapes ever recorded in Chesapeake Prison took place. Lefty Malone and eight inmates escaped from their cell block.
They took two guards as hostages and made their way across the big yard to the hospital. From there they went over the top of the adjoining wall to the building next to it, which also housed Warden Gillespie and his family. This was Lefty's destination.
"All right, Warden, just sit still!" shouted Lefty Malone, breaking into the Warden's dining room. "I don't want any shit from you. And you better just tell your family here to cool it. I mean business I have nothing to lose and you know it!"
The warden stood up in a rage. "You won't get away with this! There's no way you can escape!"
"Sit down. Now you folks just go right on eating. Take a look around, Ike. Some of you guys keep the front door covered. Set those machine guns up there in front."
Lefty stepped aside while the inmates went about their duties. They covered the upstairs windows and sealed off the connecting entrance.
Warden Gillespie and his wife, June, and their two daughters, Jill and Janet, all sat at the dinner table. They huddled in fear. Lefty's eyes went to the warden's oldest daughter, Janet.
"You might as well give yourself up, Lefty Malone. You know they will never let you out of here. They won't hold back their fire to save our lives!" said the Warden.
"Oh, come on, Warden. You're an important man. You carry a lot of weight they don't want to see you and your family shot to death."
"I'm warning you. I won't permit any monkeying with my family! If you so much as harm one hair "
Lefty's right-hand man, Ike, suddenly slapped the warden across the mouth; blood spurted out over the white table cloth.
"Hey Lefty. The warden sure eats good don't he? Jus' look at this table the old guy sets. All we ever get is shit on the shingle!"
Lefty held a shotgun to the Warden's neck.
"You know what they say in the big house, warden. Some of the inmates actually accuse you of taking money from the city budget. You keep the money and feed us slop. What do you have to say about that, warden? "
"You men never had it so good before I took over. I give you more than you are entitled to."
"Warden Gillespie," Lefty went into his vest pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. "We fellas have made up a list of demands. Each one of these must be met if you want to live!"
"You must be insane!"
"We'll see. . . "
"We're surrounded, Lefty. They have us covered on both sides. There must be over a dozen men out there with guns. What do we do now?"
"Good," said the warden. "Next they'll call in the National Guard and then you won't have a chance."
Lefty turned to one of his henchmen. "Did you guys set up that speaker system?"
"Yeah. It can be heard all over the prison yard."
"Good. You guys keep an eye on the warden. Take those women off into the bedrooms, and put somebody with them. In case the shooting starts I don't want them hurt!"
Lefty then addressed the armed guards outside the building. He gave them the list of demands. "And furthermore, we wait no longer than eight hours. That gives you eight hours to make up your minds. I also want a newsman inside with us. We won't hurt him, but we want to be sure our side of the story is told so there cannot be any misunderstanding. If you try and rush us, or throw in tear gas, I'll blow these folks' heads off. One by one!"
They waited. There was gunfire from the outside. Lefty Malone calmly got up and went into the corridor where there were two guards tied. He yanked one to his feet and dragged him to the front of the house. "Open up the goddamned door these sonofabitches think I'm playing. Not this time!" Lefty pushed the guard through the door. The guard stumbled out into the yard. Lefty fired four quick shots into the guard's head!
A gasp went up from the surrounding guards who witnessed the shooting. They stood stunned!.
"All right, he's just the first one, if you don't do as I say. I'll shoot the women next. Now send in that reporter!"
A news reporter volunteered and was sent to the house. Lefty's men searched him for weapons and then admitted him in.
"What's your name, Mac?" Lefty growled.
"That's it-MacBrown".
"All right, MacBrown. You look like an okay guy. Now here is what I want you to do for us. There's a lot of guys in that stinking prison who are getting a dirty deal. I don't mind what happens to me, but these guys deserve a break. The noble citizens of this country don't give a damn what happens to us. They turn deaf ears when the ballots ask for money to improve prison conditions. We want to focus on the poor treatment. The guards spit on us; they hustle hard drugs into the prisoners. They are part of the trouble. The society on the outside says violence is not the way. Well, what kind of insane people will say this but go on killing in the name of war? This whole country is run by a few big shots they control everything simply because the silent majority won't get off their fluff. Well, we want to wake them up to the violence that takes place here in the prisons."
"Public opinion will be against you, you know that. Right now the news has hit the wire services. The governor is deciding now what to do about your prison break."
"Don't worry about the governor; he's a meathead. You just report everything you see here."
Two hours passed and there was no news from the outside. Lefty began to get grumpy. He had the Gillespie family brought back into the kitchen.
"You don't really think they'll let you get away?" asked the warden.
"Sit down, Warden Gillespie. You shoot off your mouth too much! The action will be starting in a minute. You boys stand guard at the window," Lefty said, walking up to Mrs. Gillespie. "And you, lady, fix us something to eat. We want a decent meal for a change. Killer, you keep an eye on her out there in the kitchen. Make sure she won't poison us. You don't mind do you, warden?"
Killer took Mrs. Gillespie out into the kitchen. Mrs. Gillespie stopped at the door and looked back fleetingly at her family. Killer took the opportunity to feel Mrs. Gillespie's ass. The warden leaped from his chair in anger. Lefty put his gun in his mouth-and shoved it up against the man's tongue.
"Now, like I told you, we mean business. You're lucky I don't put a bullet down your throat. So just keep still. Better yet, somebody gag this creep. Before I give him a taste of his own medicine."
The warden was gagged. Lefty stood still for a moment, looking down at the table, getting his thoughts together. The situation was a lot more serious than he was letting on. But he was determined to do this last thing before he died. He knew they would kill him, even if he was taken captive again. One of the "bulls" would arrange for his accident. The guards and prison officials had their clean-up system when the law couldn't do the job for them. They assassinated troublemakers what they termed as troublemakers, and black political prisoners. So Lefty knew he was a walking dead man. But he was going to do something good before they got him.
Lefty took a good look at the two daughters. The oldest one was a cute, witch-of-a-bitch. Just like her father, she had a snooty look of authority plastered on her face. He thought how he would like to wipe that smug, haughty look off her face. Put about ten inches of steel cock up her tubes. She needed a good fucking, all right! Which was why she was so damn bitter. She was probably a bull dyke, in the making. But Janet wasn't a bad-looking broad. She had reddish-brown hair, parted on one side and fluffed on the top like one of those society dames. She had buck teeth but had learned to apply make-up to compensate for it. The high arched eyebrows, the green eyes, and the rose-colored lips were enough to make her quite attractive good enough to stick a dick in. It would be a challenge to fuck her to see if that bitter crust could be broken through.
All the while she had been sitting at the dinner table, Janet let her eyes examine each of the criminals knowing that they had not had a woman in perhaps years! The thought left her at loose ends with herself-but she was bitch through and through, just the way Lefty summed her up. She even crossed her legs to show a good portion of her upper thighs. The short skirt did little to conceal what was under it. Lefty made a mental note to save her cunt for himself.
The youngest daughter was a complete opposite from her sister. Jill was about fourteen years old, with the body of a full-grown woman. She was a sweet, honeysuckle blonde, with hair that fell all the way below her ass. That in itself made her an item to be tinkered with. Each inmate who passed through the kitchen, checking, taking orders from Lefty, took the moment to openly stare at this young flower. All with the same thought. Then all looking disdainfully at Lefty; Lefty meant to have her all to himself. Which was only right, he was the leader. But Lefty had never shitted on them, he was loyal to his men; he would sure let them fuck her when he had finished. So, they got the taste for virgin pussy out of their minds because Lefty was going to break that cherry! He and his pile-driving dick head were stiff and mean enough to bust through two cunts-fuck right through the first one, come out the other side into the next cunt hole. Lefty was that emphatic about good pussy!
So the presence of little, young, honeysuckle sweet Jill was making them all more nervous than the National Guard outside with their rifles drawn. Jill was a treasure house of delights to be seen. She had a cute, angel face-only her halo was not over her head-but rather in the way she looked at you. The way her small fish mouth seemed so tender, moist, as if waiting for the right dick, with the right taste, to come her way. It looked as if she had practiced on popsicles, and pickles, and doorknobs, doing stretching exercises to ensure she could take the biggest of crowns.
One look at Jill and you knew that she didn't have a stitch on under her dress-which was a simple straight piece, thin enough to cling over her every curve. The breasts were about the size of apples, and the brisk points of her nipples were outlined through the fabric. The waistline was small enough to get both your hands around. Which made her hips flair into shapely pouts of buttocks. She was the farmer's daughter who came to the big city and trimmed down. The baby fat was now maturing into the first stages of puberty. The thighs were large, shapely like those of a dancer's.
She was about five feet four inches tall, which made her just the perfect height to hold in your arms-and have your dick rub in her hot belly.
Jill showed no signs of fear, whatsoever. She sat there calm and collected, actually finishing up her meal. When she did look up, she flicked her hair to one side and looked at Lefty. Her eyes hung there below his belt buckle-as if to say: Why don't you guys cut the bullshit? Start the action before they come in here and capture you. I want to see what you'll do with good pussy. I can't vouch for my sister, but I need a good fuck. I'm sick of pretending I am so good-my cherry needs busting. You guys all look mean enough, dog enough to do a top-notch job. Shit, get rid of my daddy, so we can fuck. I think I'll offer them some of my grass. That would blow daddy's mind. Daddy is all right but he's just in the wrong line of work. He's like the hangman that nobody likes to have around. . .
Beth conveyed her message well. Lefty signaled for his men to move Warden Gillespie into another room. "I want all these people separate. They might get courage enough to give us trouble being together-the family unit and shit. I want them alone, each to worry about his individual self-that way they'll be easier to handle-if you know what I mean. . . "
"Hey-look, Lefty. Ain't we gonna fuck these broads? Do ya' know how long it's been since I had a piece of-"
"Shut up, Angelo. Have a little respect for the ladies. Don't talk dirty to women in my presence. Understand? Now you just let me handle this. We ain't here to fuck. We have a noble cause at hand . . . that's the trouble with the world now. How ya gonna get anything done if everyone is fucking?"
After the warden had been taken out, Lefty said, "Hey, Angelo. The reason I took the old man out, is because I didn't want him to know how much fun we're gonna have. You let me run the show. When I want suggestions, I'll ask for 'em. Now, you know we're gonna get us some of this pussy. We got all night. . . "
Inside the kitchen Killer didn't think so. He wanted his pussy right there on the spot. Mrs. Gillespie moved around the kitchen, warming what was left of the main course. Bending over the stove, hunching her wide ass up the cheeks winking at him. Yeah, she was a good-looking old bird. They said old meat was the best to have; old meat knew how to make a young man's cock bark-roll over and wag its tail.
Killer propped himself against the sink and kept his eyes glued to Mrs. Gillespie's ass. Once she bent down to reach a lower cabinet which hiked up her dress so he could see the back of her thighs. It had given Killer a complete view of her entire backside. He saw that she was wearing white panties. He could see where the bottom of her buttocks was spilling down, peeking from beneath her drawers. She had nice juicy thighs, and they looked swollen around the upper portion. They quaked with just the right softness; she wasn't fat or flabby, but beautifully conditioned. Seasoned.
Killer wondered if the warden was fucking his wife. Well, he had to be fucking because he had sired two daughters. Naw, the kids probably weren't even his. Mrs. Gillespie had probably slipped out to the market and let the butcher fuck her. Naw, she wasn't getting much dick, she was too ripe. After having babies, women's sexual appetites increase, and they become like addicts to worshipping cock. The warden was too busy denying prisoners their rights to put dick in his wife. If anything, he had a puny prick, that only tickled Mrs. Gillespie. She was a big broad, who needed to be strung out and whipped with the head of a man's dick. Killer thought he would like to use his snake of a dick to beat across her ass.
His dick was getting hard. He wanted that pussy right there in the kitchen. Well-Lefty hadn't said not to bother the woman. Anyway, Lefty had to think, use his brain, so he would be kept busy for a while.
"Does your old man fuck you much?" Killer asked, with a grunt.
Mrs. Gillespie pretended she didn't hear him; suddenly realizing her number had come up. She had thought that the children might make these men have a heart. Instead, she was discovering that all they had were hards.
"Ah, come, now. We might as well be friends. We're gonna be here for quite a while. It depends what that jerk of a governor does. Ya know, we can be friends, can't we? I mean you might as well be nice, because we are all liable to get shot down in the morning . . . " His hands went down and rubbed his cock.
Mrs. Gillespie saw it out of the corner of her eye.
"Wanna see my dick? Huh? I bet you'd like that?"
"Please . . . if you don't mind. Your leader told me to get the food ready. I can't if you stand there and do that-"
"Huh? Do what? You mean this?"
This time Killer grabbed a fist full of his cock through his trousers and jerked it at Mrs. Gillespie. She dropped the plate. It splattered over the kitchen floor.
Then she stood there and froze. She took a deep breath and gathered her courage. She decided that she would turn her back and do her chores; that's what she came in here to do. But she could feel Killer's eyes on her backside. She could feel them coming under her dress, crawling up her juicy thighs, and creeping between the buttocks to stare into the heart of her pussy-then she shuddered and shut off the thought. What was wrong with her anyway . . . she was getting itchy.
She made a move to turn around, only to feel the cold blade of a kitchen knife at her throat.
"Now, just be cool, and don't move. You won't get hurt!
While resting the knife firmly against Mrs. Gillespie's throat, Killer came up behind her ass. His cock was throbbing when he positioned it between her buttocks. He hiked up her dress so he could feel the warmth of her flesh. The skirt was over the back of her ass, and his dick pressed hard into her crack.
With one hand he reached around in front and felt her breasts. Hmmm, they were soft and round, hard nippled. He ripped the collar down and slid his hands between the two creamy mounds. Her bosom was on Are, hot as could be. He clutched one tit, then the other in his fist, and they were sweaty, slippery. Hot and greasy, like a mature woman should be.
He took his hand out of her bosom and reached down between her legs. Mrs. Gillespie made her first attempt at struggling, when he fingered her cunt. When he felt her move, he took a fist full of pussy mound. He churned downward and rang her sack out. Mrs. Gillespie started to sink to the floor, growing weak in the knees, but she stopped when she felt the knife at her throat. She straightened up to let Killer have his way with her.
Mrs. Gillespie began to stir, the hot dick in her crack was too much for her. She writhed and sighed, and tried to let the man behind her know.
Killer took his time feeling over Mrs. Gillespie's body. He rubbed her stomach and down into her crotch, then off to the side and over between the hot boiling thighs. The panties were peeled down far enough to set her buttocks free. He hunched her over the sink and braced himself. He unzipped his fly and his penis sprang out. It was hard, mean, vicious, and wiggled to find the direction of the hole it sought.
Killer eased his penis in to feel how hot it was going to be. Then when he felt the delicious sting, he fucked Mrs. Gillespie like a sex machine. His penis was a jackhammer, pounding into her softness. He humped her with straight shots to the belly. Each stroke made her grunt and groan. Mrs. Gillespie fell face first over the sink. Killer raised her buttocks so he would have a straighter shot, and not hurt her so with his pile-driving dick!
Killer's dick head grew bigger and bigger until he shot off. Semen splattered everywhere. He drenched his penis in the semen and made circular motions over Mrs. Gillespie's buttocks.
Mrs. Gillespie turned around slowly. She looked down at Killer's cock; she had to see it. To see how a real he-man's dick looked-to see it all red and dripping white come one the kitchen floor. She had not felt such delicious sensations within her vagina for years. The warden had stopped fucking her years ago-the most he did for her sexually was to eat her cunt. His penis was as puny as a toothpick. When Killer had plugged up her pussy she was aware of the thunder and lightning. It felt good to be fucked like a mature woman should.
The sight of Killer's stiff, slimy penis made Mrs. Gillespie weak in the knees. She melted back against the sink from the sheer magic of it. Her mind raced and her eyes stared at the door, expecting someone to come in and spoil this forbidden moment. How shameful of her-she scolded herself. But Killer had violated her now, and she wanted more. It was torture to have a taste of a good pole and not be able to ride it until she climaxed. She could not stand still, she was nervous, trembling spastically. The naked cock had a pull on her so strong, she could not break it!
Killer saw that look. Killer knew Mrs. Gillespie was a horny devil. He could tell by the way she shifted her gears when he was deep in her cunt. He had once fucked a cow on a prison farm, Mrs. Gillespie had that same funky goodness, and knew how to shake her shit up. From the rear, half the action was how the woman moved her buttocks-the more she moved-the harder the penis got, and the sooner it shot off. Mrs. Gillespie, being desperate for cocks, jelly-fucked and put her weight on one hip, then switched to the other, shoving her pussy on his dick at the same time-letting his dick free-float, hitting her deep spot where the target popped up. Jelly-fucking. She rocked his dick in her cradle of hot cunt, paused ever so often to make sure it was still there. Sometimes when she got this hot, even a big penis got lost in her ocean drop.
"You devil, you. You want some more of this cock, don't you? Jus' tears you up lookin' at it, don't it? Want some?" he teased, shaking his cock at her.
Killer moved in closer. "Git down on yo' knees, bitch. I want you to suck my cock this cock-while it's drippin'! "
Mrs. Gillespie got down on her knees. Her hands were like hot irons everywhere she touched his body. It was clever, the way she felt his body, going down, as if she needed this body for support to keep from falling flat on her face. When she was down, she took one fleeting look at the door. The swinging door that could spoil it all for her. What if her daughters or her husband walked in? The hell with the girls. They were old enough now. Besides, she couldn't be sure any of them would get out of this alive. There was always the chance that her pussy might be good enough to make Killer like her. If Killer liked her, he might spare her life. If she sucked him just the right way, maybe he would grant her a favor. Why not? It was worth a try. Shit, she was not a sissy at sucking a cock. She had already got him to shoot off, now she would blow his mind, as the kids say. The warden would never let her suck his prick-so this would serve her husband right! Yeah-get on down there, girl!
Mrs. Gillespie looked up at Killer with cold gray eyes.
"Listen, if I'm going to suck you off, I don't want nobody barging through that door."
"I'll shoot 'em if they do. Get on down!"
Mrs. Gillespie obeyed his command and took her sweet time. She even kissed his bellybutton.
She pounced upon his big cock. Her mouth swallowed up his crown and rinsed it in hot, sticky saliva. She gargled and teased the dick string while it was still submerged in her mouth. She dropped it from her mouth and came up for a breath of air. She pulled her head back and stared intensely at the long length of it. The penis fell over limp from the first hot blasting. She bent her head and came up under the penis. She used her tongue to cup it right over the eye. Without touching his dick, she sucked it until it stood as straight as an arrow.
Then she moved to one side and stared along the length, deciding if she wanted to suck his balls this time, or go for the tip again. She decided one of the balls would be nice to gargle. Her head ducked under his crotch and she had a mouthful of nuts. The right hand came up around his ass and punctured Killer's asshole, Killer jumped. He was ticklish back there.
"Get it good for me, bitch!"
She looked up through his buttocks and whispered, "When's the last time you've had a bath, fella? You funky devil, you!"
"Don't worry about it, just do your thing, mamma!"
"If I do you won't be able to stand it. I oughta lick out of your ass."
"Naw, you better not-"
"See, just like all men. You just play the game halfway. When it gets dirty you retreat; you just like your cock blown. But shit, there are other things to be blown, don't you know any new ways?"
"I'm gonna fuck you in the mouth if you don't shut up."
"Talking turns me on. I like to hear funky fun talk-it makes me cream in my pants. Go ahead! Fuck me in my mouth. I dare you to!"
"You're a nice lady, I wouldn't want to do that-"
"Chicken shit! Nice lady, my asshole."
"You really want it in your mouth-hard."
"I dare you. You ain't got the guts. Straight on and as hard as you can. . . "
Killer spread himself like an eagle and planted both feet on the floor. He was two hundred and eighty pounds of muscle and grit; he was going to rip this bitch's mouth off, good and clean! He grabbed her face and put it right in front of his dick. She didn't seem to be bothered that he was raging, gathering steam to ram her through. If possible he was going to plant twelve inches of cock down her windpipe! After all, fair was fair, she had asked for it.
He jerked his hips in and out, desperate to get his cock in her mouth. Mrs. Gillespie, tenderly, patiently, held the cock until it stopped letting off steam, then she sucked the head. He fucked it into her mouth. The deeper it went, the better it felt. It felt as though she was trying to convey a message-she wanted him to think of her pretty mouth as being a pussy hole. With that thought in mind, Killer was dying a thousand deaths, his socket was about to short circuit at any moment.
Killer dared to look down on her face. There was such a pleasant look there. Mrs. Gillespie was practically smiling. He saw how the big gorge of a penis went into her precious, pink mouth. How she slurped and sucked in air between her cheeks. His dick slipped out of her mouth in the heat of passion. She turned her head so her chin held it against her shoulder. The side of her face smoothed along his shaft. He felt compelled to continue fucking, he stroked his dick on the side of her face. Mrs. Gillespie held his penis as if she was playing a bass fiddle. She strummed the shaft to its limit, throbbing and about to explode.
She loved it when it was as stiff as it would get. She became deliberately cruel in teasing the shaft, daring the penis to explode. Yet it withstood the pressure of her taunting tongue and mouth; she was asking to see how much man he was. How long could he hold out and stand his ground? After all, this was just a sample of what it would be like inside her pussy. If she liked him this much, how much better would she make her cunt for his dick?
Killer grunted and groaned, holding on. He could not jerk his hips any longer, for the sensation was too soul stirring. He was about to shoot off in a thousand directions-but she had his tube plugged up her mouth. Still she dared him!
"Wowee, just look at it. Is all that you."
"Don't tease me, baby. Take it back in your mouth!"
"I'm in no hurry. I want to see it shoot off. My husband never could-but you look like you're going to explode. Do you like it that much?"
Killer looked for his weapon (he had put it down a long time ago). He had lost his threat, his power, and now the female attacked his cock like a leech, not letting up for one moment.
"C'mon, shoot off for me. Let me catch it in my mouth. I like the taste of it. If you've been locked up for a long time, shit, there must be loads! Shoot it off, let me suck it!"
Killer groaned louder than he had before. Mrs. Gillespie was getting to him and he drew back, tightening every muscle in his body.
Could he do it? Could he hold out long enough to get it in her pussy? He remembered how good it had been just a moment ago. He couldn't decide. To fuck or to be sucked. That was the question that was draining out his nut bag, that was ripping out his guts, and he felt this sensation of having to pee-then suddenly she let it go. The pressure was released for the moment. There was no one to help him-he was far out-on a cloud-counting all the nights on his prison bunk when he ached for a female. He had not dared to dream of a woman going down on his cock. In prison, it would be enough just to fuck. Now here he was in the warden's kitchen getting the best blow job he'd ever had -from the warden's wife. Shit-life was a kick in the teeth in every respect. Fuck it. He would shoot off and give her what she sucked for. . .
Killer stood there weak, looking at the door. What if Lefty walked in now and saw him shivering like a baby? What would he think? He stared at how Gillespie was clinging to his hairy legs, eating his come off his hairy thighs. Oh, shit, to see what she was doing was too much! The more she licked away the semen, the hotter he got. It was too painful, his cock wanted to get hard again, but it was just too sweet of a sensation to even attempt it. Yet there she was, gnawing at his dick bone like a bitch dog. Her bark was in the way she nicked and picked at the ridge-then moaned out loud to let him hear how hot she still was.
"Hey, that's enough lady. Back off!"
"Oh, no, not yet. A little more, please, while my husband's locked up. He never lets me have any fun . . . now you won't either!"
"Hey, no. Stop, you'll get me in trouble. I mean, I wasn't supposed to be doing this in the first place. You know? I don't want to be no more of a cheater than I already am. . . "
Mrs. Gillespie looked up at him with pleading eyes, the hair falling apart, the jaws sore from snapping at his dick, and her tits hanging out of her bodice. "I'm sorry. But you'll just have to beat my ass. I got to suck your cock some more. It's simply the best, the very best, I've ever put in my mouth. So, please, pretty please . . . won't you let me suck it some more? Don't make a horny woman beg."
"It ain't that, lady, it just won't get up again!"
"Bullshit! You have been behind bars too long. You forgot what a woman is all about, haven't you?"
"Hey, c'mon, lady-I said to get out of there!"
"I must have some more," she lunged for his penis. Killer turned away. Mrs. Gillespie went sprawling to the floor.
"Now cut it out, lady! They'll hear the noise and think I'm beating your ass. . . "
"Yes, beat me-anything, only let me have some more cock!"
She squealed and leaped for his penis again.
This time she caught it and churned down on it. It was killing poor Killer and he tugged to get his penis free. At that moment he lost his temper and knocked her down.
Mrs. Gillespie fell down and the door opened. There stood Lefty with his mouth open.
"What the fuck you been doing in here, Killer? Huh? What did I tell you?" said Lefty speaking from the corner of his mouth.
"It ain't what you think. She wanted to-"
"Sure. I know, she wanted you to let her fuck you, right? She just couldn't tear herself away from your dick. You lousy cock-sucker, I oughta beat your ass. I'll let you know when it's time for action. Don't forget where we are. We got the whole National Guard breathing down our necks. So just keep cool. When we fuck the old lady here, I want the warden to see it. Now get the food like I sent you in here to do!"
They were all grumpy by midnight. Their nerves were getting raw from waiting to hear from the governor. Lefty was the most nervous of all. He paced the floor, his face grim.
"All right, look around to see if there's anything to drink in this dump. We could all use a little something to drink for the nerves."
Killer, still thinking about Mrs. Gillespie said, "Hey, look, if you don't mind me asking, what are we saving these broads for? If we get caught, we get the chair. So we might as well go for rape, too. Shit, did you see how fine the warden's daughters were?"
Ike joined in with Killer, "I think Killer has a very good point. He don't make sense very often, but he's got a point this time. I want first crack at that oldest daughter. What a mean bitch she is. I'd like to jam my whole arm up her snatch. Just to teach her some respect. I can see how the warden has been raising his daughters. That bitch thinks she's hot shit. Did you see her prancing around?"
"Who asked you two dumb mother-fuckers to say anything? But you're right, Killer does have a point. Okay, let's have some fun. Shit, two can play this waiting game. Bring that haughty bitch in here."
They responded right away. Moments later, Janet was thrown into the room. The men all lurched like caged animals eyeing the juicy piece of meat in their midst.
Although Janet was frightened, she kept her cool. She still remained the stern bitch. She stood perfectly still to let them gawk over her body.
She stood there with her nose in the air. A thin shift draped over her luscious, slender body. The material pulled taut across her breasts and the outline of those braless wonders appeared majestic. She held her slinky pose to torment each of them. Ike, who was a leg man dug the way her legs were so long and fleshy. The knees even looked sexy, as well as the ankles. He visualized how hot and stanky her pussy must be now. Knowing that four men were in the same room and about to rape the shit out of her.
Killer was a man who could cream off just looking at a pretty face. It wigged him to see how pretty the warden's daughters were. Janet had high cheekbones, pink cheeks, a pouting, thin mouth, and an elegant nose. The reddish-brown hair framed a magnificent piece of art. She was too pretty. Killer remembered the neighborhood where he grew up. How the pretty little girls' mothers would not let them play with him because he was too ugly. Killer grew up loathing females. Before he was sixteen years old he had been convicted of committing seventeen rapes. He was big, a brute of a youngster and fucking cherry pussy was like stealing candy from a baby. He and his killer-size cock equipped him well for the profession he chose for himself. Rapist supreme!
Lefty looked at Janet in a different way altogether. He enjoyed getting deep down inside a female. He enjoyed seeing what it was that made them tick. To see if the pussy controlled the woman, or if the woman controlled the pussy. Some women used their vaginas as weapons to keep men on their knees-that was the kind of bitch Lefty enjoyed balling.
He already knew that none of his men would be able to please this bitch, Janet. She was from a long line of bitter Puritans. Janet was hard on the outside, as if she could take a pounding type of a fuck from a virile man. That was a lie. She was really a sweet, demure little angel, in disguise. That disguise each woman uses to set the trap for men. Janet would rather have you pound in her pussy and make her whimper-it proved how doggish men were. Most men did not know how to fuck, thereby missing the true essence of good pussy. Janet was good pussy for the right man. She would give it freely to any man, until she found the man who suited her. Lefty planned to fuck her in such a way that Janet would be able to tell he was real.
And if he got the chance without the other boys looking, Lefty planned to eat the lining out of Janet's cunt. Just to put icing on the cake.
Lefty gave Ike and Killer the okay to seduce Janet. She stood still while they sandwiched her between them. Their hands moved over her body. She didn't move a muscle and closed her eyes, trying her damnedest not to respond.
Ike was behind her with his hands on her hips, rubbing the soft material of her dress over her buttocks. Her ass felt like hot round balls in his fingers. He patted her cheeks and pushed his penis on her rump. When Ike's penis came between Janet's crack, she straightened up as stiff as a board!
Killer, in front, kissed Janet's face. He squeezed her breasts at will. He milked them and shaped them into cones. She had not yet made a sound.
Ike unzipped the back of Janet's dress and it fell to the floor. Killer was very careful as if he was unwrapping a Christmas package. He peeled off her panties. A beautiful bush of pussy hairs winked at him from between her golden, honey-filled thighs.
When Janet was nude, they sandwiched between them again. Killer then kneeled low enough to put his penis up into Janet's pussy. The penis pushed in painfully-she could not open her legs to assist. That is until she felt Ike's cock from the rear, prodding at her anus.
Janet had no choice in the matter and she was entered both ways. One hard dick in her asshole and a harder one stuck up in her pussy hole from the front. Janet was on a string between them-Ike pushed while Killer pulled. Then they would reverse the motion. When Janet jerked back off of Killer's cock, her ass hunched back to Ike, who stabbed her a good one.
The penis in her rump was tearing her asshole. But the sheer pleasure from the one in her pussy made it bearable. She found herself rocking with the strokes. They fucked her harder and straighter. She was lifted to her toes to let them each get up in her hole, as they liked.
She heard Ike moan-he was getting his nut. She let the muscles relax to make her tunnel more available-thereby shutting Killer off at the pass. Killer huffed and puffed to fuck and make Janet open up her pussy again. But she had Killer's penis pinched off an inch deep in her. She eased her ass down on Ike's dick. Ike climaxed and released the last drops of semen up her anus tube. Janet farted and came, joltingly.
Lefty sat in a chair, masturbating. He was turned on by what he witnessed. The two dicks fucking Janet had been the straw that broke the camel's back! Nowhere in Janet's imagination had she dreamed there could be so much pleasure from two cocks. She was now committed to continue, to see what else there was to fucking-having warned herself there would be days like this. After twenty-five years, Janet was no longer a virgin.
She squeezed Ike's cock out of her asshole. Now it was she and Killer. She stood bowlegged and her cunt sucked his pole deep in her. A moment of inspiration came over Janet; a hot sensation from the goodness of Killer's cock that made her shake spastically-she looked like a puppy shaking water from its back. Her whole body was one delicious shock of wiggles and contortions. That easily she made Killer shoot his wad!
Killer's penis popped out. Janet fell limp into a chair. Ike and Killer closed in on her face. She took both of their cocks in her hands. She sucked Killer's first. Then she turned her head and stretched Ike's penis to suck it. She repeated this until she had both pricks hard again. Then Janet really got heavy into her thing. While she sucked one man's dick, she rested the other dick on her shoulder.
Lefty was still sitting in the chair. He had taken off his trousers, waiting his turn. He noticed the expression on Janet's face. How she had changed so suddenly. He must have been wrong about her being so sweet inside. He didn't think so. Janet was just thrilled by the moment, having this many men want to jam her-would make her forget her personality. Or was it the other way around?
Janet was actually finding personality in each of their cocks. She was slowly learning to make them do her bidding. Her expression showed that she was into what she was doing -more than that, she was enjoying it. He could see that she had an inner desire to be made mistress to man's brutal sexual nature.
Killer, in another rage to get his nuts off again, snatched the tablecloth from the table to make room to put Janet's naked body on. They lay her down amid the spilled gravy and bread crumbs. Ike grabbed the salad bowl and spilled what was left over Janet's titties. A cucumber slice landed on her right tit and Killer bent over and ate it off. Then they poured honey all over her body, between her thighs, and between her toes. Both Killer and Ike licked her body clean.
While Killer sucked Janet's pussy, Ike put his dick in her mouth. There she was with her head hanging off the table, a dick in her mouth and Killer eating out her cunt hole.
Lefty stood up and walked toward the table. He saw their hands all over Janet's body. It was his turn now.
"Come and get some of this pussy, Lefty."
"Yeah," said Ike. "We'll stick her pussy on your dick."
"You're going to like this, bitch. Honey-get ready because Lefty has a dick as big as a house. You're gonna get it now!"
Lefty, feeling lightheaded, stretched out on the table. Ike and Killer picked Janet up and spread her legs wide. Then they held her over Lefty's dick-then lowered her down until there was about nine inches inside her hole. Lefty fucked up at her pussy; his penis pierced the butter-warm pussy tunnel and his crown tilted her cervix. Janet sighed and caught her breath. It was getting good to her.
Lefty closed his eyes and became familiar with her pussy. It was a shallow hole, but the boys had stretched it out of shape. But it was tight and hugged his shaft, as he piled deeper.
He could feel the tip of his penis touching the top of her tent-and that was how she liked it. When it was in as far as it could go, she began to move her hips, spinning and screwing down on his pole. Lefty moaned the next time.
Janet wasn't pleased with the position and managed to climb off Lefty's sticker. She wanted to be comfortable to take Lefty fucking.
Lefty got off the table and leaned her over the back of a chair. He put his hands on her hips to keep her legs spread. He eased into her hairy pussy. He plugged in and the union made a popping sound!
He pushed his penis in until there was only an inch to spare on either side. He was as snug as a bug-then he began to fuck her.
He screwed to the right. Janet moaned. He screwed to the left. She whimpered. He stopped fucking and tickled her clitoris. Janet tried to twist away. But Lefty held her firm and jammed her all the way to her backbone! He popped her again and again before she could cry out. He fucked her so hard that she turned crimson-and there was white cream spouting over her open pussy, spilling down the back of her thighs.
He felt as if he was going to burst open Janet's pussy. But he did not let up. He knew his boys were watching his action. He got into his rhythm and danced into her snatch. He fucked her, shaking his ass, and jerking his torso.
Janet grunted and gasped for air. Her screams broke the rhythm of the pounding of his cock-smashing her cunt open! Wider and wider, taking all there was to give. He became aware of how his penis was expanding-he was about to shoot off! Lefty felt the surge of goodness rushing through his groins, splashing against the pussy walls. When she felt it, Janet's pussy contracted so hard that it blew Lefty's cock out. A lump of come hit Lefty on the chest, and he ducked . . . then he realized that she had that one stored up for a long time.
Lefty licked the come away and smiled at Janet. "You turned out to be an okay bitch!"
"Fuck me some more while my father is tied up. . . "
Janet cockily stood up and went to get a drink of water. Then she smiled and looked cautiously to where her father was locked up. Then she said to the men, "Well. . . who wants to be next?"
"All right, it's been over four hours. I guess that no-good governor thinks we're kidding. We'll probably have to shoot our way out of this. But before I go I want the warden to remember us. Go get him and bring him here," said Lefty.
The warden was brought in, his hands tied behind his back. He looked for some sign of his daughters.
"Your daughters are okay. But I can tell you this, they weren't too concerned about your well-being. Warden Gillespie, it looks like nobody likes you very much. Sit him down, boys."
The warden was pushed in a chair. Lefty pulled his chair around so that he faced the warden. Lefty pointed a gun in the man's face, then scratched the warden's chin with it.
"You know, warden, killing you is too good, you know? So I want to do something that will make you remember us." Lefty turned to Killer. "Bring this man's women in here."
The women were brought in the room. The mother and Janet stared shamefully at each other; each telling the other of their guilt.
"We're going to set your women free, Warden. I don't see no reason not to give them a second stake in life. With you out of the way they may have a chance."
"Don't be ridiculous!" said the warden. "They wouldn't dare leave without me. My family sticks together-one for all!"
Lefty spoke to the women. "It's your choice, ladies."
The ladies did not say anything, merely dropped their heads. They knew that Lefty meant business. They liked the old man, but wanted to live. Besides, this whole situation was his own special hell he had created for himself.
"Don't forsake me girls-don't leave me with these killers! Don't leave your father!"
"Shut up! Let's not get dramatic. I'll tell you what, warden. It looks like they aren't gonna go for our deal-the governor. Which means they're gonna come charging in here with the tear gas and the bullets flying! And you know how you give the order to kill on sight. In fact, they might come rushing in so fast they might shoot even you! Like they did in Attica. But to prove a point, I'm gonna make a deal. I'll set you free if you fuck your youngest daughter. That's all you gotta do to live. Huh, warden?"
The warden raised his head. The warden stood up.
"Daddy, you wouldn't," said young Jill.
"C'mon over here, little Jill. I want you to stand before your father."
"George.'" shouted Mrs. Gillespie. "If you touch one hair on that child's head-" She turned scarlet with anger.
"Daddy, you couldn't-" cried Janet.
The warden cocked his head and looked from Lefty back to his daughter, Jill. The gun in Lefty's hand was the deciding factor. Warden Gillespie took off his shirt, keeping his eyes on the floor. The entire room gasped. Why the dirty sonofabitch!
"Don't put me to shame in front of my family, Lefty Malone. I beg of you," the warden finally spoke.
"Not me. You're the one, warden. Now go on or I'll put a bullet through your skull."
"Kiss your daughter-bastard!"
No one believed that he was actually going through with it. No one, but Mrs. Gillespie. She had known somehow just how chicken-livered her husband really was. But there he stood with his arms around his own daughter, naked, letting these criminals reduce him to a dog. His family would never forget this night.
"On the floor, Jill. You get on top of her, warden-c'mon, be quick about it!"
Jill, stretched on her back, curled up like a kitten, beyond this bit of fantasy. If there was an answer to be found, then so be it, but only get on with the action.
The old man leaned over in a half attempt to suck her tit. There was no visual sign that he had a hard yet. Jill had such sweet titties and soon the criminals forgot it was her own father who was sucking them. They all had dreamed of putting dick to little Jill. But this was the way Lefty wanted to play it. Lefty was their leader, he had his reasons. So all they could do was stand there and watch this father fuck his daughter.
Warden Gillespie was the kind of man, that no matter how you looked at him, he came out ugly. He had jet black hair that was greasy and slicked back. He also had a thin, shifty moustache. He was a fat man, heavy bones, and must have weighed a good two hundred and thirty pounds. So that was a lot of beef on top of little Jill-his daughter.
"I don't think I can get a hard," he mumbled, stalling for time. Perhaps the state troopers would rush in to save him from this degradation. No such luck!
Lefty put his gun against the warden's ear. "Did you say something, old man? You take your choice. You get a hard or lose all your brains. Now get cracking!"
The warden reached down and grabbed his dick. It rose up into Jill's pussy. It wouldn't fit. Jill tossed her head from side to side-then put her hand down to hold her pussy open. Her movements and familiarity said she had masturbated many times before. The lips of her pussy were puffy. There was a crusty brown layer as if there had been wear-and-tear from her fingers.
The warden had a nice-sized cock to put in her. If he could get it in-it was a tight squeeze, both mentally and physically for the good warden. This wasn't just any pussy hole. This bubbly cunt belonged to his own precious daughter.
The warden rolled on top of his daughter. They all saw Jill's facial expression change. They knew then that Gillespie had actually penetrated.
"George!"
"Daddy, how can you?"
To drown out their shouts of protests, Gillespie dicked his little daughter harder. He forced himself to enjoy it. He was soon knee-deep in good funky hot pussy. It was so good that Gillespie felt it was scalding the head of his penis.
Jill began to moan.
The warden reared up and fucked as if he was home-free. The pussy beneath him was just that-pussy! After all, it was not the first time he had fucked Jill. He had balled her plenty of times in the middle of the night when the family was asleep. Jill never made a noise either-she just quietly took his cock. Then, in the later stages, just before she turned thirteen, he had let her go down on him.
"Now let's see you fuck her in the butt hole. The way you shaft us inmates! Come on, give it to your own daughter the way you gave it to us!"
"Yeah! The way you screwed Leroy in your office-while two of your bulls held him down on the desk. You degenerate bastard! Tell your family about that!" Ike hit the warden across the head with a broom.
The warden held up one arm to protect himself against the blows. He tried to fuck at the same time; his dick now pinched into Jill's anus!
"That's enough. Grab that sonofabitch and lay him out on the table. Face down!"
"Oh, no, please!"
"Shut up, punk! Beg for mercy the way some of our guys begged you. You remember those guys you shot down and later said they were trying to escape. You had them killed because they were political prisoners. This is too good for you, warden."
Lefty grabbed up the broom. He put the end at the entrance of the warden's butt hole. "Warden," he said, "this is for being such a creep. For playing god with the lives entrusted to you."
Lefty jammed the broomstick all the way up the warden's rectum. He did it four or five times, good and hard!
"Now stand him up, fellas. Lay his cock out on the table."
Lefty went to the cabinet and brought back a meat cleaver.
The warden begged for mercy.
"Warden, maybe we can't fight the system, because it's so corrupt. We can't get the silent majority to see the injustices, nor to see that they are as much victims as the poor-but I can even the score for a lot of good guys you've crucified. . . "
Lefty raised the meat cleaver high over his head. There was a thudding sound when he brought it down! The warden's agonizing screams shook the house. . .
The National Guard stormed the house early the next morning. After the barrage of bullets and tear gas and the smoke cleared, there were no survivors . . . in the rubbish.
The captain of the guards, disgusted by the death and bloodshed, crumpled the sheet of paper with the list of demands, and threw it to the ground.
Chesapeak Prison was then back to normal.
CHAPTER SEVEN: MOTORCYCLE SADISTS BENT ON BRUTALITY
On July 10th, 1969, a missing person report was filed at the Bakersfield police headquarters. Mr. and Mrs. James A. Cross reported their two daughters missing for four days. They had gone to a July 4th picnic celebration in Ickler Park and had not returned. The police were given full descriptions along with photographs of the two young girls. A bulletin went out and a search was conducted throughout the neighboring county.
Police Captain James Willard thought, perhaps, the two girls were hitchhiking to Yosemite National Park. For the past two summers the young people had been going there during school vacation. The park was overrun with teenagers and a nearby town called Horseshoe, which had a population of six hundred, was a perfect haven for motorcycle bums and hippies.
A description was sent to the forest ranger to be on the lookout for the two girls-Margie and June Cross.
Margie and June Cross had planned their runaway very carefully. They were going to
San Francisco. They were not worried about getting rides. What man wouldn't give two pretty females a lift? Especially, seeing how young and innocent they both looked. Their first day's travel took them fifty miles from their home town. They met a group of kids going in the opposite direction to Mexico. They told the girls fantastic tales about San Francisco, which delighted both girls. They wanted thrills and kicks.
The next evening, they sat huddled together at the side of the state highway. The sun was just sinking over the mountains when they saw motorcycles blasting down the highway. The bike riders stopped. "How far are yuh two birds going?" one of the fellows asked. There was a woman with them who looked to be about thirty-five. She was slenderly built and wore black, oily jeans and a leather jacket.
"We were going to San Francisco," Marge told them. "Do you know where we are now?"
"You're thirty miles off the main drag. You want 99."
The woman who sat straddling the bike like she was born on it, said, "You two must be pretty hungry, huh?"
June nodded and stepped closer. "Yeah. We sure are!"
"All right, climb aboard. We're camped down the road a bit. We'll take you there and give you some grub."
Reluctantly, they climbed on the back of the bikes and held tightly onto their suitcases.
The campsite was off the main highway in a clearing outlined with tall trees and bushes. There was a large river just in back of the campsite. Six other members were seated around a campfire. They were dressed in black jeans and leather jackets, too. Two more women were with them. "Hey, cats! Look what I brought ya. These two birds are headed for the Golden Gate. They're going to Hippie-land!" They all laughed and Margie and June immediately felt immature, thinking that the group had already been there and that they were just square teenyboppers. "Sit down and take a load off your feet." Again there was a mocking laughter. "Glad to have you join us. We're going up to Yosemite. It's gonna be a far-out get-together. Ya wanna come along?"
"I would!" shouted Margie!
"Well, why not," said June-the cautious one. We're certainly not in any big hurry."
The night dragged on and they passed marijuana joints around. It was pure gold and it wasn't long before Margie and June were stoned. The campfire flickered. The boys just sat around on the ground, resting their backs against their bikes. Then one of the girls, Gloria, a skinny chick, kissed one of the guys. He felt over her body and then took her off into the trees. June could hear the sounds of the girl's clothes being taken off. Then she heard the girl whimper-that must have been when the boy stuck his penis in her. June sat perfectly still and her eyes examined each face in the light of the campfire. Then there was another couple rolling on the ground. Jane began to get a little horny. She turned to look at her sister, who had been sitting in back of her. But Margie and the woman called Hedy, had disappeared.
She stood up to move away from the circle. She wanted to hide so she couldn't be seen. There were more boys than girls in the group and they would probably want to fuck her. June left the campfire and was nearing the clearing's end, when the leader called to her.
She heard his footsteps in back of her. She stopped and waited for him to catch up.
"Hey, look here, baby. Why don't you stick around? Ya know, like we could use another chick to turn on. There ain't that many babes, ya know?"
June dug her toe into the turf and dropped her head. "I don't think so. I don't feel like it tonight . . . "
"Yeah?" he grinned. "Do you feel like it any night? Dig it, chick, you're a cute littje number. And some people think you should share your cunt. Ya know, it ain't that much to a cunt, huh? You must be on the pill. We shared our home with you, man-this beautiful forest, gave you a ride, fed you-so what's the hang-up? Like these cats are really beautiful."
"I didn't say they weren't. Only I. . . " She thought about how greasy and nasty their Levi's looked, and how much funkier their pricks must be. "I just don't feel well, that's all. Have you seen my sister?"
"Yeah, she took off with Hedy."
"Which way did they go? I think we should leave."
He laughed. "Shit, by the time you find your sister, she won't want to leave. By now Hedy is fucking the shit out of her!"
"I don't believe you. My sister wouldn't do a thing like that."
"Shit, yo' sister is a dyke. Hedy spotted her the moment she set eyes on her. Now what's it gonna be? You gonna give us some of that cunt, or do I have to take it?"
Another member of the gang stepped up. "What did she say, she gonna turn on us?"
"I think we have ourselves a virgin here," said Marty, the leader.
"Yeah, baby, just look at those tits . . . like ripe fruit."
"Did you see that cute ass she's got? Jus' like she was poured into those Levi's!"
"Do you think she's a natural blonde?"
"Well-they say blondes have more fun, huh chick?"
"I don't believe it, man. Let's see if blondes have more fun."
"You heard the man, baby, take off your clothes and let's see what you've got."
June was horrified beyond reasoning. When she saw the other two girl members of their gang, she felt somewhat relieved. But there were suddenly greedy gleams in their eyes, too.
"C'mon, baby! I said take 'em off. Or I'll do it for ya!"
She knew that the boy meant what he said. Without hesitating, June slowly lifted her sweater. Her breasts came plunging into view in the moonlight. She cringed slightly and cast her eyes down.
"Hey, that's nice, huh? Hey, Judy, why ain't you got tits like this little chick?"
As June unbuttoned her jeans, she felt a smashing blow above the ear. She went sprawling to the ground. A boy stood over her, his face hideously screwed in anger. From the look in his eyes she instantly knew that he was high on some drug. He weaved back and forth, and his eyes were aglow with a frenzy as they stared at her body. All the others in the group stood back. "Hey, watch, Marty's going to give us a real happening! " Marty grabbed for June. June fought back gamely, and tried to slap his face. It only enraged the boy more, and he tore off his T-shirt and began chasing her. The others followed with loud cries of strange laughter. June's heart beat frantically, when suddenly she was trapped in a small clearing.
"Somebody hold her!"
"Stand back! I don't need no help!" Marty shouted as he took firm hold of her arms.
June was lifted off her feet, and once again she went smashing to the ground. She lay stunned for the moment, looking up at Marty. Marty slid his belt from around his trousers. His pants fell to the ground. Next his shorts were discarded and he turned for all the members to see. The girls all gasped and cautiously moved away into the group. He then went to where June lay, his arms folded across his chest. Even in her horrified state, June refused to scream. She would not give them that satisfaction. She would play their little game if they wanted. But she would not be called a square by them. There was no resistance to his clumsy lovemaking. She gave herself freely to his demands.
Marty was not taking any chances that June would struggle again. He hit her across the mouth, and she held still. Then he stretched both her arms above her head. He held them down and hovered over her body. His penis throbbed against her tight hole. He pushed his penis in and wiggled the crown, testing to see how funky it was. She was a virgin and his entrance was blocked. He grunted and bombed her a stiff one! He had to jam her twice before he broke her cherry. Then it was clear sailing.
It had been last summer since he had broke a cherry. Last summer he fucked nothing but young runaway chicks-all of whom were mostly virgins.
He pushed his cock in further, intending to tame this wild filly. She refused to fuck back and he humped her dead center! She wiggled and rolled her cunt to the side. He followed and played possum until he had another shot at her right corner. She moaned and her hips shook off the spastic sensation.
He was stinging her so rapidly that she had to hold her breath. She began to warm up and gapped open her thighs. His penis was proving too much to play it cool any longer-June was beyond the brink of ecstasy.
While Marty fucked June on the ground, Judy came and hovered over June's face. Judy felt one of June's tits. June snarled a warning to get away; she didn't want a chick feeling over her body. But Judy continued to play with the tits. Then another girl reached for June's tits.
Marty was hot seeing the two chicks eat up June. He balled June harder each time she breathed. Judy stood up and pulled down her jeans, there were no panties beneath. She squatted down over June's face. "C'mon, suck my cunt, sweetie. You'll like it once you start . . . you want some of my juice, don't you?"
"Oh, get off the girl's face-" cried Bobbi.
"I wanna fuck my pussy in her mouth."
"Can't you see Marty is fucking her?"
At that time, one of the boys put some dick in Bobbi and she shut up. But her mouth still remained fastened on June's tits.
For the next hour all that was heard was the sound of grunting pleasure from the entanglement of arms and legs on the ground. One by one, they collapsed, totally satisfied. The orgy was over.
The following day was a hot dusty one and the temperature was over one hundred degrees in the shade. Male members of the motorcycle gang arose early and went into Horseshoe to check it out. The girls remained behind at the campsite, sleeping late. Hedy, Judy and Margie Cross set out on a hiking adventure.
They hiked along the river for a few miles into the lush greenery of Clanton Valley, not far from Horseshoe. They rested on a sloping hill. There was a road below that led to an old farmhouse. There was a red truck going away from the house toward the main highway.
A man was driving the truck, which meant that his wife and family would be all alone.
"Hey, listen, you guys. We need some chow. There must be somebody down there. What say we take a look and see what's happening?" Judy suggested.
"What if there's somebody home?" asked Bobbi.
"Then we'll just take what we want, that's all."
Hedy smiled at Margie, her newest pet, and they went down the hill, arm in arm.
They stopped abruptly on a slope overlooking the back yard of the house.
"Wow, zoowie! Hey, you guys, just take a look at this!"
Hedy turned to see what Judy was pointing to. She saw a woman on the back steps of the house. The woman looked to be about twenty-five years old. She was wearing a black and white body shirt with a belt. The woman had light brown hair and was just pulling the top of the shirt off her shoulders. When she did, the girls all gasped.
"Wow! Look at the size of that bitch's tits! Look, Hedy!"
"That bitch looks like she's got cow tits. I guess that's what living in the country will do for you. I've heard of big, fine country girls, but this is ridiculous! Let's go down and have a closer look. If we're lucky, maybe nobody is home."
They crept closer, not making a sound. The woman on the back steps sat there, soaking up the sun. She did indeed have tremendous breasts. They looked like pink headlights glimmering in the sunlight. She tossed her head back and stretched her arms above her head. The breasts rose up with the movement and quivered. Then the woman put her arms down and cupped each tit. They were much bigger than her palms. Very slowly she began to work the mounds over her chest. Then she plucked a nipple and raised one breast to her mouth. She sucked the nipple and flicked her tongueit was easy to see that this was a form of masturbation she practiced often.
When she had licked them to her satisfaction, she dropped her arms straight down into her lap, and squeezed the mounds together. The titties rolled and spilled over the sides of her arms.
"Howdy do, ma'am," said Hedy, stepping into the back yard. Judy and Margie were close at her heels.
Their sudden presence startled the woman on the steps. She embarrassingly pulled the shirt back on her shoulders. But she could not get the buttons fastened before the girls had a good long look.
"Good morning. Where did you all come from? "
"Oh, down the road a piece. We were camped out there in Butes Flats. We got hungry and thought we could find someone who would give us a meal."
"Oh, dear," said the woman. "My husband isn't home-but I guess I can fix you kids some breakfast-if it's food you really want . . . "
"That would be great!"
"Thank you, ma'am."
"I'm only too happy to help out. My name is Laura Hatfield. My husband is in town this morning. I was just catching some sun."
"Great country you have around here."
They were all surprised that Laura Hatfield was so young. It appeared as if she could have been a model at one time. She was a knockout ! Maybe she had done an act on Broadway featuring her size-fifty titties. Laura Hatfield definitely had a professional look about her. The skin was too perfect, the face glowed, shimmering clear without make-up.
Laura Hatfield led the girls into the kitchen.
"Wanna leave the kitchen door open. It's hot as blazes today," Laura said, moving about the kitchen, making room for the girls to sit down.
"We don't get many visitors up this way, very often . . . " Laura tried to make conversation, feeling tense because so many eyes were on her. The mammoth breasts were making her self-conscious.
"Beautiful country though . . . " Hedy could not even pretend-she was captivated by this strange creature. What was a handsome bitch doing stuck out here in the wild country, tied to some old man?
Laura cooked them bacon and eggs and served orange juice, along with piping-hot biscuits. The girls ate the meal and leaned back and patted their stomachs.
"You know, Laura Mrs. Hatfield, you sure do know how to burn. That meal was tasty. I bet your husband is happy to have you keep his house."
"Oh, no, I don't think he even knows I'm here half the time. As they say, it's great as long as the honeymoon lasts, but when it's over, it's a different story. So let me warn you girls about marriage."
"Why do you live out here?"
"Oh, my husband likes it. I was tired of the city. I needed peace and security that country living brings."
"Your husband sure is a lucky devil. You're a good-looking woman. Wow, and those boobs of yours -"
The girls giggled. Laura unconsciously hugged her bosom.
Hedy went and stood beside Laura. Laura didn't know what to make of the sudden move. Then Hedy said in a kidding voice, "Does your old man give you much? I bet he freaks off your boobs -"
Laura did a double take. Then she looked cautiously at each of the girls' faces. It dawned on her. She had noticed that Hedy and Judy were hard-looking females. Judy had dark hair with a ruddy complexion and a sour mouth. She had bushy eyebrows, much like Hedy's, and broad shoulders. How could she have missed it? Hedy and Judy were bull dykes. Evidently, they were members of some motorcycle gang. Perverts! What had thrown Laura Hatfield was that Margie looked so sweet and darling.
Hedy casually reached across and squeezed one of Laura's tits.
"What do you think you're doing, young lady?"
In a quick move, a push-button knife materialized in Hedy's hand! She made a half attempt at stabbing Laura, who leaped back in fear.
"Let's have some fun, girls. Looks like we found ourselves a pigeon all alone." Hedy waved the knife in a threatening way.
Judy began slamming dishes to the floor. It seemed to have delighted something sadistic inside her. She glared at Laura and went through the house breaking lamps and furniture.
"Hey, come here, you guys! Look what I found," Judy screamed from one of the front rooms of the house.
Hedy pushed Laura Hatfield into the room at knifepoint.
Judy was standing in front of a tank of tropical fish. "Ain't this pretty! What say we smash up this slob's fish tank and let the fish swim around the floor!"
"You don't have to do this!" Margie spoke up. She had wanted to be a member of their gang, but senseless violence was stupid. "Why destroy her fish? She probably loves those fish very much. Leave them alone for Pete's sake!"
"You know, Margie you came on strong last night. You wanted to become a Hawk, right? Okay, get over here and get in this bitch's ass. We want to see you eat her out!"
"What? Why me?"
"You have to pay your dues. You got your first piece last night. Now you're getting some more this morning!"
"I don't want to."
"Get something to tie Mrs. Hatfield up with. We're going to have a demonstration. Margie doesn't realize how hard new pussy is to come by. You have to take what you can, before some man beats you out."
"Good. Step over here, honey. We're going to tie you up. You have a treat in store. I bet you thought this morning was going to be just another dull day out here in Butes Flats!"
"I'll do what you tell me," Laura said, looking at the knife. "I won't fight you. So do you have to tie me up?"
"That's half the thrill. Take her into the bedroom there. "
They pushed Laura down on the bed. Hedy tied her right leg to the bed post and Judy tied the left. Laura was then spread-eagle her legs apart and her hands tied over her head.
Margie stood in the doorway, feeling a certain power. There was a naked body, stretched out, awaiting her bidding. She had gone down on Hedy last night, and enjoyed it. For the longest time she had thought she might be a lesbian. Last night confirmed it. The taste of Hedy's pussy juice was still pungent in her mouth. And here was a tender housewife who masturbated all day with her cunt open a slave to whatever Margie wanted.
"Looks like this whore could use a good tongue bath.. . "
"Not bad, is she? Except for those big, booming tits, she won't have to worry about keeping her figure."
Margie quickly tugged off her sweater. She took a fleeting look at Hedy and Judy. She climbed on the bed and hovered over Laura's body. She looked up and down along the flat stomach and the valley of tits. She cupped Laura's right breast in both hands the flesh squeezed through her fingers like putty. She squeezed, tested, having never seen tits so huge and round. One tit was impossible to hold in one hand. Then, Margie, as she had been taught last night fastened her mouth on the nipples.
Hedy and Judy observed everything Margie did to Laura. To begin with-they knew Margie didn't have her heart in it at first-then gradually her expression changed.
Kissing Laura's mammoth-size breasts had turned Margie on in spite of herself she stroked up and down Laura's pretty thighs squeezing the tender lobes of thighs that guarded the precious pussy mound. Laura's pussy didn't have hair over it. Her mons area was as bald as a baby. Margie drew in close to see the cunt better. A thrilling sensation shot through her body when she saw how churned and battered Laura's vulva lips were. Which told Margie that living so far out in the country had taken its effect. Laura was a compulsive masturbator; the churned-up puffy pussy lips were from sticking things in her hole. Margie knew about it because she had masturbated the same way when she was thirteen-with a Coke bottle. Seeing Laura's raw cunt hole, pink and quivering, excited Margie because now she knew that Laura was as hot natured as any of them.
Margie worked her hands over and around one tender thigh. She kept her mouth stuck on Laura's tits, working the hand over to the pussy. As soon as she touched the cunt, Laura bolted! That was what Margie had been waiting for; she had gotten the signal. This bird could fly. All she had to do was turn her on and point her in the right direction there would be pussy enough for everybody to eat.. .
Marge dug into the pussy slot. Gorging her fingers in and out hard! The harder she jugged, the better Laura liked it.
Hedy and Judy came closer to the bed; staring at the newest member of their gang how quickly she adapted to the trade.
Margie removed her fingers and licked the juice from them. Then she scooted down and got a good position between the thighs. She ducked her head under and licked out at the open slit. It was slimy and droplets of come were seeping down between Laura's crack. Margie put her tongue there and lapped the droplets into her mouth.
She licked her tongue under the buttocks and all between them-sniffing out the rectum. Laura tightened her cheeks so she could not dig her tongue there. Margie brought her arm over Laura's pelvis and held her still, at the same time applying pressure over the clitoris. The clitoris being stimulated, reduced Laura to a mere tremble and she relaxed her muscles. Margie was at liberty to tongue her asshole as she pleased.
She could taste little crinkly things, and she crushed them in her mouth. She was digging gold from the ass tunnel, making a payload of goodness. The tongue squeezed into the tunnel, and Laura now lifted her hips. She became elastic to give the dyke what she needed.
Margie withdrew her tongue and licked the chocolate flavor over Laura's buttocks. She looked up through the thighs to see Laura's bosom heaving up and down, frantically. She had awakened her horny vibes, all right. Now to get at the pussy hole.
She took both hands and spread Laura's pussy as wide as it would stretch. The lips were pulled back and the tiny orifice of a vagina peeked out like a pink pinpoint. It pulsated and squirted, winked at Margie . . . ready for the attack-the inner walls of the pussy knew that the vulva lips had been captured-that soon an invader would be there to sap the sweet juices.
Margie went at it vigorously. She licked both sides of the hole before inserting her tongue. When the tongue was inserted, it slipped in and wiggled around-teasing the roof of the pussy. Then the tongue twirled around and withdrew to lap over the clit. This drove Laura insane! She was wild now, leaping up and down, fighting the bonds that tied her. But Margie would not let up on the clitoris. When she did, she ducked her tongue back inside the pussy hole.
Now Margie's body was on fire. And she rolled over on top of Laura. She positioned her thighs so they were between Laura. Their cunts were pressed into each other. Margie had to stop and pause. To feel another pussy hole plush up against your own was a delight few women experienced. She lay there and let the two cunts introduce themselves. Laura's pussy hole seemed to heave a suction that drew in Margie's clitoris . . . almost an inch. Margie could feel the pain as her clitoris stretched, being sucked in . . . it was pulling an orgasm from deep within. Then Laura jerked up and Margie went off! "Ohh . . . oh . . . , " she cried, gasping for breath, and falling over in a heap.
"You bitch-you ain't shit. She's the one who's tied up and she knocks you over like a bowling ball. Get out of there!"
"I can't help it-it's so good. I'm new at this, remember?"
"Ah, shit, even a baby knows when to tighten up!"
"Move over, Margie," said Judy.
Judy came over Laura with a determination to clean her out. She took up a sixty-nine position with her head over Laura's pussy. She reached under the thighs and took a firm hold on them. Then she dropped her head and ate between the thighs.
From the other end, Judy's asshole was sitting on Laura's nose. Laura could not help but feel curious if she could make this girl hot enough to weaken her. So, she stuck her tongue in the pussy that hung over her face.
It became a back-and-forth action-first Laura would lick and slurp, then rest. While she rested, Judy did her thing on the other end. Soon Hedy was there on the bed eating out of Judy's rump, and kissing Laura on the mouth.
Margie climbed on top of Hedy, remembering last night-and having just had a good climax a moment ago, gorged her fingers up Hedy's crack.
They applied all kinds of torture to Laura Hatfield's body. Hedy found particular pleasure in beating her ass with a belt. Judy and Margie wanted no part of that action, so they watched. At first, Hedy went about it quite jokingly. Then her face slipped into a sadistic twist, and she beat .harder with the belt.
Hedy stood Laura up and moved in a circle around her, hitting her with the belt.
Each time Hedy struck, Laura locked her knees and shivered. When Hedy saw her do that, it excited her-and the next blow would be a little more savage.
Then it appeared as if Laura was beginning to enjoy it. She raised her arms, implying she wanted to be beaten around her tits. Laura proudly stuck them out, the nipples pointed. The leather bit and snapped across the pink nipples and made a stinging sound. Laura closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. She shook her wide hips as if some imaginary penis jabbed at her holes. She went into convulsions, shaking her titties and falling backward on the bed. Her legs went, straight up in the air. The belt cracked her across her haunches, touching up the fatty portion of her thighs.
When Laura could not move anymore, her body covered with welts and bruises, Hedy put down the belt. Hedy climbed on the bed and licked away the blood. Margie and Judy could see how the come leaked out of Hedy's cunt when she did this.
It was as though Laura had forgiven Hedy for the beating, because she raised up and kissed Hedy in the mouth. She whispered, "You sweet, mother-fucker, you! You knew what I needed."
At high noon, Sheriff Aimer Hatfield came home to the farmhouse, his muscles aching. It had been a busy morning with the calls from the Bakersfield police inquiring about the two missing girls. He parked his truck and went inside the house. As soon as he stepped in, he saw the mess-the table overturned, dishes broken, food thrown over the walls-he automatically withdrew his revolver. He feared for his lovely bride and rushed toward the bedroom. The sight that greeted him nearly made him lose consciousness. His wife's body lay on the bed, beaten, and sliced by a knife.
His wife was rushed to the hospital. Later, Laura Hatfield was able to give a positive identification of the one girl, Margie Cross. Sheriff Hatfield had his first lead. "All right, men, we know the two girls are in the area. They're with some gang of hippies. They won't be easy to spot because by tomorrow the state park will be swamped by thousands of kids, and longhaired freaks. There will be a lot of youngsters fitting Margie and June Cross's description. No matter, I want these monsters apprehended. They're gonna pay for what they did to my wife. With these kind of degenerates running loose, none of our families are safe!"
Six o'clock on the night of July 18th, the owner of the saloon in Horseshoe was reported shot in the chest by a gang of bike riders. The shooting occurred after the riders and the locals tangled in a fist fight, which resulted in the owner being shot.
Sheriff Hatfield was outraged. He would not permit this kind of lawlessness in his town. He took an armed posse and drove to the outskirts of Butes Flat where the Hawks were riding.
The only person Sheriff Hatfield found was little June Cross, shivering in the cold night. The others had left her after raping her. June told how she tried to make her sister leave the gang, but she refused.
June Cross was returned to her family in Bakersfield. Margie Cross was never heard from again.
CHAPTER EIGHT: WHITE POSSEE LYNCHERS FOR A BLACK LOVER
It was a sweltering hot day in Lincoln, Alabama, on the day of August 28, 1965. At the stroke of noon, a hush fell over the streets. Men, women, and children stopped and gazed with a sickening terror toward the end of Washington Street. An old Model-T Ford bumped and rattled down the center of the road -tied to the bumper of that vehicle was the body of a black man. The driver of the car rang a bell, tolling a warning to all blacks that Jimmy Joe Brown was dead at last.
"That ain't Jimmy Joe them white folks is draggin'. Jimmy Joe would not let the white men catch him," a little black boy said to his grandmother.
"I don't know, boy. That looks like Jimmy Joe they's draggin' . . . "
"Naw, mamma. Jimmy Joe was a brave black man. They may kill the man-but I don't believe they can just kill a spirits-"
"Smart boy, ain't ya?"
Jimmy Joe Brown's body was dragged down Washington Street to the city square. There, a group of men cut the body free from the bumper. After all the dragging, somehow Jimmy Joe still breathed. He was taken to the center of the square.
"Lord, have mercy! Looka' there-go head on, Jimmy Joe! The nigger is still breathin'. Sure hard to kill a nigger ain't it?"
The black citizens, for whom the protest demonstration was intended, gathered around the city square to see if there was any justice for the black people. When they saw the white men string Jimmy Joe up on a cross, the blacks knew there was no justice . . . especially when just before lighting the fire under Jimmy Joe's feet-they hacked off his penis-the chunk of meat dropped into the fire and the good white citizens gave a joyous cheer. For a moment, the bright day was overcast, but only for a moment-those things that were bright and shiny turned gray.
What was Jimmy Joe Brown's crime? He had allegedly raped a white woman.
Jimmy Joe Brown had once been a bad-assed nigger! Jimmy Joe believed that the mind and spirit of man always stayed young. The body was what grew old, the spirit didn't have any age. So Jimmy Joe grew up-until the white man killed him-trumped on his body, but not his spirit-feeling free. As free as a black man-child can be down in ole Alabama. Jimmy Joe just loved to be bad for the sheer joy it brought his soul. He rejoiced in kicking people's asses! Any people's asses. Although he really meant no harm. He thought everyone was into his trip. When you are free, everything you do is just for "kicks." Freedom is having nothing else to do, he guessed.
It was Jimmy Joe's haphazard attitude toward life that triggered the events which are known in Lincoln, Alabama, as the "Saga Of Jimmy Joe."
The events lasted from July 6, 1964 to August 28, 1965. During which time the good citizens witnessed a wave of terror and crimes, and bloodshed-that struck fear into the hearts of every man, woman and child . . .
There were several events that had led to Jimmy Joe's unfortunate date with destiny.
Emma Jean Wilson was a bad little white gal. Everybody knew that she was the child of Satan. Her punishment for having been born to wealth, was to have the flesh of the devil. All the money, class, and breeding, were not enough to cool down her temperature.
Emma Jean was such a slut, flies wouldn't light on her. Although only fourteen years old, Emma Jean was already the village whore. She would meet men in town, lure them into the woods and go down on them. Sucking cock was Emma Jean's favorite pastime. Emma Jean would suck your cock tonight but the next day in town, she'd spit on you!
Jimmy Joe wanted to screw Emma Jean just because so many white men had fucked her. He felt he had the best prize of all, a big, fat dick that would jar her soul open. Naw, Emma Jean hadn't had any real fucking, not so she'd know it . . .
Emma Jean's mommy sold her to Harry Okker because there were fourteen other children. Emma Jean was the prettiest, so they sold her into marriage, for a cow, three chickens, six hundred dollars and two pigs!
Jimmy Joe was a curious cuss. He wondered how in the hell old Harry Okker was gonna fuck young Emma Jean. Shit, just a taste of her hot stuff would give the old man a heart seizure. Everybody in town was betting the marriage wouldn't last. They all said that Emma Jean would be back out in the woods fucking the horse in two days. The old men said they knew Harry Okker, and, old cuss or not, he had ways of keeping a young gal tied down.
Jimmy Joe wanted to see for himself. One night, he slipped out to their cabin. It was in the summertime and all the windows were open. He heard the crickets chirping as he peeked into the back room where they slept. Old Harry Okker was standing naked, all except for his drawers. Emma Jean was in front of him with her underwear on. They were just getting ready to fuck.
"C'mon over here, honey," he said, "and let old Harry teach yuh a thing or two." As he said that, Emma walked over to him.
Harry just sat there and stared at all of that loveliness-oozing in how good it looked to him. It looked good to Jimmy Joe, too. He was outside the window, knowing that if the white man caught him peeking, he would cut off his nuts. So, it must have been pretty sexy for him to stay there and watch. Emma was the very first white woman that he had seen naked.
Hmmm, what the white man was getting!
Little Emma Jean looked good enough to eat. He dug the way her ass spilled out of her drawers, her cheeks rosy and pink. Her thighs were nice and round, and the drawers choked them off. Her center was delicious looking oozing creamy goodness. A cunt that would make a man cry-just being two feet away from it. He could tell the way Emma Jean shook her stuff, that it was good twat. Her ass shook like Jello, which meant there was a lot of cream filling her buttocks.
Harry kissed down the front of Emma Jean's body until she was too weak to stand up. He made her walk across the room while he jacked himself off. He said to her, "Make that ass shake, baby gal. Yuh remember that yuh is my wife now. I want yuh to mind what I tell yuh."
Emma Jean obeyed and tried to make her tender ass rotate while standing directly in front of Harry. All of her young meat churned like a motorboat. Then Harry got up and grabbed a handful to slow her down a bit.
"That's it, now, turn around, gal, so I can see it good."
She turned and Harry spread her legs apart and inserted a finger. "Ohhhh, that hurts a little bit, Mister Harry," she said and panted, and squatted lower, with his hands doing a pumping motion. All the while he still held his penis. Semen squished over her pretty thighs. Looking down at his long pecker apparently sent her into convulsions.
"It's about time I gave you some of this. Yuh is old enough now," Harry said.
Emma Jean nodded, "Mister Harry, it looks too nasty, though."
"Nonsense, gal. A man's prick ain't nasty. It's fer yuh little girls. Now lie down over there on the bed."
It was more or less their honeymoon. Jimmy Joe had never seen a white man jug any gal that young before. A grown man fucking a baby child, like he was taking advantage of a premature female who did not know what it was all about. Old Harry was really lucky to be the first man to put a dick to Emma Jean regularly.
Harry took off his drawers. He could have screwed an elephant with the monster thing he had between his legs. His big, old body twisted down into Emma Jean's willowy thighs and up against her fluff.
"Oh, goddamn, but yuh sure is a hot youngster. Oweee, it's stinkin' good."
Emma Jean got a frightened look on her face, then her eyes lit up just waiting for his dick to push into her cunt.
Jimmy Joe shot off in his britches, seeing all the perverted things the old man did to Emma Jean.
After that one night, Jimmy Joe was more determined than ever to have Emma Jean for himself. But there was an unwritten law in the South that black men did not mess with white women, and if caught, the black man was strung up to the nearest tree.
That did not keep Jimmy Joe from reckless eyeballin'. He went on watching Emma Jean. Some days he would pass Harry's house and see her outside hanging up clothes. Emma Jean was very uninhibited and wore thin cotton dresses. Standing in the sunlight, Jimmy Joe could see the silhouette of her body through the thin cotton fabric. Emma Jean didn't wear drawers, either.
Jimmy Joe watched Emma Jean daily.. He realized that he was near the point of raping Emma Jean; like thousands of other black men were supposedly doing in the South. What was so special about white women? He kept a hard-on the entire day and sometimes it swelled so big, he couldn't take a simple piss! He even quit fucking the regular die-hards-saving it for little sexy Emma Jean.
Every two days or so, Emma Jean would visit Dorothy Turner, a white widow lady who had been married to a wealthy man. Her husband had suffered a stroke, they say, but rumor had it that Dorothy put glass into his daily meals. That was a thing widely practiced in the South. A lot of slaves used to murder their slave master that way. Dorothy was plenty smart because she got every dime of her late husband's money, and she was staying there only until her lawyers cleared up the legal mess. But in the meanwhile, she was about to go crazy with the lack of something constructive to do. Dorothy was about twenty-four years old and she and Emma Jean had a lot in common. Emma Jean wanted to see the big city, the bright lights and Dorothy knew all about it.
Dorothy Turner was not an ordinary woman, not by a long shot. In fact, everyone was drawn to her. To look upon her face was to want to stick a cock in her cunt. Altogether, she looked as if she was carrying a heavy load. The first time Jimmy Joe met her, she stared him down. Dorothy did not seem to see blackness. It did not upset her that he was a black person. Instead, her attention was drawn to the big bulge between Jimmy Joe's legs. Jimmy Joe did not miss that. And his eyes went up and down the front of Dorothy Turner's body. "Owee! Sure would like to stick a little dick to that fine heifer! Now there's a white woman I sure would like to ball."
Jimmy Joe's penis had cause to get horny for Dorothy Turner. She was indeed a sexy bitch. There was something classic about her, the way city-bred, high-class women look. Like the pictures you see in those big-time magazines from New York City. His eyes ate Dorothy Turner up-looking at her tilting buds of tits and her flat stomach where her jeans divided and made her flowing curves look all the more provocative; the hips wider, rounder. The jeans were pulled over the center of her cunt, covering a large mound; one of softness and bushy hairs. Jimmy Joe could tell that she had a fat pussy, not firm, and he imagined there would be a lot of hairs, which was why her bulge appeared so fluffy.
And what blew Jimmy Joe's mind; he heard Dorothy Turner ask the store clerk what his name was.
So, naturally, he became curious as to why Emma Jean was seeing so much of Dorothy Turner all the time. One day he didn't do his chores and went to Dorothy Turner's house.
Her house was real cool because it was outside of town and there was a river running right in back of it, and tall trees to shade it well. No one hardly came there to bother her, so he felt safe going right up to the window to take a good look at what was happening inside. They weren't in the front room so he had to sneak around to the back of the house. They were in the bedroom. Dorothy Turner was just standing up and unbuttoning her blouse, thinking that it was time to make a move towards her prey. "Hey, honey, I'm gonna git comfortable. How 'bout yo'self? It's so damn hot and sticky in here."
He saw her eyes cut to the bosom of Emma Jean's stupendous pointing tits. It was really cool the way Dorothy worked on Emma Jean's titties; she knew that Emma Jean was somewhat ashamed of her own small tits, so she pretended that they were the sweetest-tasting boobs ever. Dorothy ran her right hand up the center of the small melons and spread her fingers, the fingers clasping over one breast. She pulled downward as though the tit was a balloon and the pressure made Emma Jean's tit swell up and her nipple enlarge.
While Dorothy fondled her breasts, she was saying things in Emma Jean's ear, kissing down along her neck, making her throw back her head and shut her eyes in ecstasy!
That afternoon was the first time Jimmy Joe had seen two women screw each other. He watched, fascinated by the way they seemed to eat each other up. He didn't see how a pussy could shoot off with a dick inside it. Dorothy and Emma Jean solved that problem, because Dorothy put her cunt on top of Emma Jean's and they rubbed together. They ground their clitorises together until they had an orgasm. It was sexy the way Dorothy Turner screamed and threw back her head and grunted profanities ! It sure did look as if it was good to her.
When they finished fucking cunt to cunt, they did it with their mouths. Dorothy sat on the side of the bed and finger-fucked Emma Jean for a real long time. Then she bent her head down and nibbled the long clit. Emma Jean's clit was a long, stretchy-pink piece of meat. It stretched out from her pussy like a piece of rubber. Dorothy would pull and let it pop back! Jimmy Joe knew that had to be good because when he finger-fucked a bitch, she climbed the walls.
Jimmy Joe had to let it all lay for the time being. Until he figured out some way to get Emma Jean alone.
Jimmy Joe was Mister Charlie's boy, which meant he worked for an important white man. Charlie Pepper, the richest honky in Lincoln. Therefore, Jimmy Joe was Mister Pepper's boy. Jimmy Joe was the only black man in town who did as he damn well pleased. No one dared mess with Mister Pepper's boy.
Jimmy Joe and Mister Pepper had a deep friendship-Jimmy Joe was Pepper's ticket into nigger town. Nigger town sat one mile on the other side of the tracks.
Pepper was proud of Jimmy Joe in one other aspect: his young buck had the longest dick in Lincoln County. And masculinity played a very important part to the locals.
On July 9th, the body of a five-year-old blond-haired girl was found by Crescent River. The little girl had been sexually assaulted and then strangled. She was left on the river bank, naked, and with a belt around her neck. And any time a white female was found murdered, blacks were accused.
"That poor young thing was ripped through and through-whoever the nigger was, he had to have the all-time king-size cock in the county!" A judge and jury were not needed in Lincoln County. They had their own kind of justice.
They went looking for Jimmy Joe. Mr. Pepper stood up for his boy. He told the mob that Jimmy Joe had been with him on the night of the rape-over at widow Stewart's house.
Things quieted down and the black people stayed inside their shacks. It was always better to wait out the storm. Blacks knew that some peckerwood had raped that child and lay the blame on a brother.
Jimmy Joe-the free spirit-did not let any man put a curfew on his time. He continued to stalk pussy in the dead of night as always.
High noon, two days after the raped little girl had been found, Emma Jean went skinny-dipping alone in Crescent River. What she did not know was that Jimmy Joe had been there when she arrived. He was sleeping in the sun up on the bank in back of some trees.
Ironic enough, Emma Jean was thinking of
Jimmy Joe out there splashing in the water. Everybody was all disturbed about that five-year-old gal getting ripped off. One of them sexy niggers had done it-them with those long cocks! Shit, she bet it was hell sitting on one of them poles. She wasn't gonna let no nigger ever fuck her-and mess up her sweet stuff. The white men who had fucked her, all said her pussy was too good for a black dick. Emma Jean believed that. Although that nigger Jimmy Joe was good to see. Dorothy Turner had asked about him; which meant Jimmy Joe must have something on the ball she didn't know about. It did seem kind of stupid to let a city bitch come into Lincoln County and get the biggest dick there. Dorothy didn't have any hang-up about what color a dick was. All she cared about was getting the job done. Emma Jean told herself that it was time she thought that way. Being married to old Harry was just a tease. All he did was suck over her ass and eat her pussy. She was a young, growing girl and she should have a hard cock to play with. That was normal.
Hell, parents bought little boys dogs to grow up with. Emma Jean thought it was only right little girls should have a dick to keep them out of mischief. She would enjoy getting into some mischief with Jimmy Joe, all right! He made her pussy bubble. The way he looked at her with those greedy eyes. Why that dirty sonofa-gun, to look at a girl with such lust and let her know it, had to be confidence. She liked a man who was sure of himself. The way he looked at her legs told Emma Jean that he would go the distance with her. Although he did not look like a cunt-sucker, she was sure he desired to please. She had heard most black studs did.
Was she crazy? What was she thinking about fucking a black man for. They would run her out of town if they found out she had long-dicked some nigger. Especially Jimmy Joe. In the South, it was thought a disgrace if a girl was fucked with a long, huge penis-and could still walk. Jimmy Joe must have a cock about a foot long-she could tell by the way he moved. The way his body was muscular and slender; slender men seemed to always have the longest cocks!
There was no sense in kidding herself, Jimmy Joe's sexy stares had gotten to her. He had made her panties drip with premature come, reading his thoughts. She had yet to meet a man who said so explicitly what he would like to do with his sticker. He was the kind of nigger who would be sweet and gentle to start. Then come down into himself and grow brutal and ram all the dick he had! He was the type to fuck old ladies and crippled goats! Young or old, he looked as if he could go to town on any piece of ass! He looked as if he might have known how badly she suffered. How each day her pussy was tortured, wanting and not being able to have. To see strong handsome men on the street, strutting, with their cocks banging away in their jeans, and more than ready to ball. Yet, her inner conscience forbade her to slut that way now that she was married.
Emma Jean splashed around on the surface for a while, then ducked under the water. While submerged, she gapped open her legs and rubbed her pussy. She stretched the lips open so the water could gush against her clitoris. This was Emma Jean's favorite way of masturbating. It felt so good to have the cold water rushing between her thighs. She enjoyed seeing how her titties could float on the water.
She came up for a breath of air. She looked down at her tits, sweet as ripe peaches. They floated and jiggled with the wave of the water. Then she looked up toward the shore and saw Jimmy Joe. Jimmy Joe had his back turned. He was taking a piss-evidently he didn't know anyone was around.
"Hey, boy! Yuh git on away from here. Stop that pissin'! What's wrong with yuh-yuh can't be pissin' in broad daylight!" Emma Jean waded up to the bank.
She had scared the hell out of Jimmy Joe. He whirled around with his dick still in his hands.
Emma Jean came ashore, swishing her fat ass, and buck naked. She flicked the water from her face and pulled the hair from her eyes. She stood there, showing this black man all there was to see. She was curious as to how he would react. Then she noted the huge piece of black meat in his hands-and that quickly Jimmy Joe had taken her game from her.
"Where did you come from?"
"I was here first. I was out yonder in the river swimming. Why was yuh peeking at me?
Don't yuh know you ain't supposed to see no naked white woman?"
"I was here first. I was sleepin' up there on the bank . . . "
"How come yuh don't like me, Jimmy Joe?"
"Who said I didn't like you?"
"I see the way you look at me. Yuh like that Dorothy Turner, don't you? She speaks highly of yu', too . . . both of y'all oughta git together . . . "
"Why don't yuh put yo' clothes on? "
"Why don't yuh leave? What's the matter, yuh can't take it . . . "
"Yuh ain't that hot-"
"Shit, yuh ain't never had no white woman. Yuh don't even know what's good-"
"It ain't good for me to be standin' here-"
"Yuh wouldn't know what to do with it if I did give yuh some."
"There ain't but one thing you can do to pussy-"
Emma Jean picked up her drawers and stepped into them. She spread her legs and yanked them up hard over the crotch. Then came a devilish look to her eyes.
"Take out yo' dick and let me see it," she said and looked at him with dreamy eyes. "I bet yo' dick is ashamed to be seen by me, ain't it?"
"Yuh better stop needlin' me . . . "
Emma Jean cocked her head, folded her arms, and put her weight on one leg. "Yuh know, I can make yuh do anythin' I so please. If I want ta. Yuh know that, don't yuh, boy
. . . all I got to do is jus' holla' and yuh is in trouble . . . "
Jimmy Joe held his head back and looked down his nose at this sumptuous little bitch. He had not planned on this. He had thought seeing his dick might have made her hot enough to fuck. But now she was putting shit in the game. Compulsive fucking was for the birds -he was a free spirit.
"C'mon, Jimmy Joe, let's see it. Everybody's always talkin' about how much man yuh is. I'm gonna count to three an' yuh better have yo' dick out!"
Jimmy Joe looked around and decided to go along with her. He unbuckled and unzipped. The black piece of meat fell out of his fly and bounced back up like a yo-yo.
"Hmmm, boy! Yuh nasty ol' thang, yuh! Whatcha doin' with a thang that size . . . "
"Okay, I got to go now . . . "
"Yuh'll go when I tell yuh to go. Yuh jus' stand there an' be still. How would yuh like to have someone suck that thang for yuh? "
"I gotta go now."
Emma Jean walked up to him. There was a smile on her lips as she slowly wet them. She stood in front of him, her naked tits pricking his hairy chest. She was so close, Jimmy Joe couldn't breathe. She stared into his eyes, daring him to move, while her fingers worked below and touched his cock. Her lingers measured the length first. Then she wrapped one fist around it and yanked. He took a deep breath and withstood the pain. She was like a cat, curious now. Then she put two fists around the shaft and milked it until the crown rose up.
She moved in closer and stuck his stiff cock between her legs. She wiggled her ass, lifting one hip and then the other. It was see-saw action and she was sitting her buttocks on a draw-bridge.
"Oweee, boy. Yo' dick can go all the way through my legs." She reached one arm in back and pulled his crown through her crack. Then his penis wrapped around her lower right thigh-like a lone tentacle of an octopus.
The elephant trunk of a penis, pulled the thigh into his middle, and he grinded back. She stopped and snapped, "Whatcha doin', boy? I didn't say yuh could rub against me. I told yuh to jus' be still . . . didn't I?"
"Yes, ma'am . . . I gonna be still . . . as still as yuh want me . . . "
"Don't yuh move now," she said, going down to her knees.
She lifted his penis in both hands. It stretched in her open palms and she licked the tip. The penis stirred and wiggled and the crown turned red. She stuck the tip of her tongue into the eye of the crown. She sucked hard and slimy semen spurted out.
"Yuh is a nasty mother-fucker, ain't yuh?" she smiled and looked up at him. When he saw the sexy blue eyes and the blond hair cascading over her face-he shot off a glob of semen.
It no sooner hit her palm, before she had swooped it up into her pretty mouth.
"I got to tell yuh somethin', boy . . . yuh got the best-lookin' dick I done seen . . . "
"Thank yuh, ma'am . . . but yuh better be careful. In fact, yuh oughta let me go now . . . "
"Not until I suck it."
Emma Jean was just about to take the crown in her mouth-when there was a loud voice behind them.
"All right, git yo' hands up, nigger!"
"Don't move or we'll blow yo' head off!"
Three white men stood on the rise with shotguns pointed at Jimmy Joe. "We caught yuh dead 'n the act, this time. We gonna teach yuh niggers yuh can't go 'round makin' our white women suck yo' dicks! We gonna string yuh up, boy!"
Emma Jean scurried away to put on the rest of her clothes, using her arm to wipe away the come from Jimmy Joe's dick.
"Wait a minute, just a second. Yuh got this wrong. I wasn't doin' what y'all think. She asked to see my-"
"-yuh jus' a lie, too! I did not!" Emma Jean screamed with her eyes ablaze.
"What?" exclaimed Jimmy Joe.
"He told me if I didn't suck his nasty dick for him, he'd cut my pussy with a straight razor. I'm sure glad yuh came along when yuh did. Y'all ain't much menfolks if yuh let wild niggers run rampant, molestin' us women!"
"Emma Jean is right. We oughta kill this nigger right here on the spot . . . "
"Wait a minute, that's Pepper's boy. Don't yuh work for Mister Pepper, boy?"
"That's right!" Jimmy Joe said proudly.
"We'd better take this nigger on into town. The sheriff will deal with 'im. Besides, yuh know the sheriff ain't gonna stop us from roast-in' this nigger when we get ready. Come on, nigger!"
Jimmy Joe was taken to town and thrown into jail. Within one hour there was a lynch mob outside, crying for his blood. But Jimmy Joe still believed there was justice. He thought of himself as being a man, and not completely black. He was a man first.
He had no fear his life would be taken until the sheriff lay the rape of the five-year-old girl on him, too. They intended to clean up the backlogs of crimes on him. Jimmy Joe did get a little worried and asked for his boss, Mister Pepper, to come to his defense.
Mister Pepper sent word back to the jail-house that he was out of town. And just by coincidence, he had just hired a new boy. Jimmy Joe knew he was in trouble then.
In a moment of panic, Jimmy Joe snatched a deputy's shotgun, blasted two times and leaped through the window!
By the time the men raced out into the street, there was no sign of Jimmy Joe.
The church bell tolled and a posse was formed. The hound dogs were brought from the kennel and given Jimmy Joe's scent. The manhunt for Jimmy Joe began. Every house in the black community was searched. The dogs picked up Jimmy's Joe's scent just outside of Niggertown. It led them to Crescent River where they found no other signs.
Jimmy Joe had known the dogs would be sent after him. He escaped as far as Crescent River. He pushed a dry log into the middle of the river and floated downstream for five miles to King County.
For the next three days the crimes of Jimmy Joe rioted the people. Two middle-aged white widows claimed a lone black man rose out of the night-with an axe-and forced them to submit sexually.
Jimmy Joe had many friends throughout Lincoln and King County. They hid him from the law. Two white hunters were found shot to death at Lookout Pass. Townsfolk claimed no one else could have done it but Jimmy Joe.
What had really happened-the two hunters stumbled upon each other in the night. They both thought they saw a black man and panicked. They shot each other to death in the crossfire at someone they only thought was there.
This was a sign of things to come. A bank in Lincoln was robbed of thirty-five thousand dollars. Although the armed bandits wore hoods, their white hands were seen. And yet witnesses swore it was Jimmy Joe and some of his friends.
Jimmy Joe became the most sought-after black outlaw in the state of Alabama's history. The law officers made speeches on the radio and television, calling for law and order, and the apprehension of Jimmy Joe. A reward was put on Jimmy Joe's head, dead or alive.
White folks knew that they had to put down this terror fast. Other black men might follow Jimmy Joe's example and rise up in numbers.
That thought struck fear in the hearts of men and women throughout the state. Folks began to lock their doors at night. They kept a closer check on their children, and there was a gun in each house. Storekeepers were ordered not to sell arms to blacks.
The Klansmen fought back in their own style. They indiscriminately raped and killed black women for the fun of it. Two nights consecutively, Klansmen stormed Niggertown. The third night they returned to find that Jimmy Joe and a band of black rebels were waiting with guns.
The shoot-out lasted ten hours. The state troopers had to be flown in. The black rebels retreated, but the story of how they withstood the siege of the white army spread like wildfire. Young black men left home to join up with Jimmy Joe. The black man was fighting back at last, and they wanted to be there.
Black folks dug up old guns they had buried in the back yard, and hidden in coffee cans, and passed them to Jimmy Joe's raiders.
Jimmy Joe and a band of fifty men raided Camp Pixon and confiscated enough arms for a company of soldiers. They were ready then and fell back into the hills to learn to soldier.
Then Jimmy Joe went into action. He robbed three banks in the course of one week. He divided the money and put it back into the backwoods to the poor black people. He bombed city hall and busted into the jail and freed all black prisoners. He struck again two days later on Olson Prison Farm and freed the black and white chain gangs. The white prisoners decided to stay with Jimmy Joe because they would neither be wanted, nor accepted back in the lily-white society. At least, with Jimmy Joe, they would get three square meals a day, and no worry about the law. The law didn't dare fuck with Jimmy Joe now.
Deputy Jules Reed and Clem Book were conducting a search party. They had three dogs with them, trying to pick up new signs of Jimmy Joe.
"We ain't never gonna find them niggers. They's hid out there in Rocky Mountain Pass. No way you can get into that box canyon without losing men."
"We'll get 'em. My dogs will find 'em if they's in the state. They can't be in Rocky Mountain Pass-we got helicopters scoutin' up there. Naw, Jimmy Joe is somewhere around in these parts."
"Well-with that many men, yuh'd think we'd see 'em."
"Shame on yuh, Clem. Yuh know 'em niggers are like animals-they got that kind of instinct-they can jus' disappear. Jus' like scoutin' an injun."
They came upon a wood shack at the side of a hill.
Jules said, "I guess we better search that house, too, huh? Don't look like nobody lives there. It's all run -down . . . "
"Elmer Washington lives there. Ain't got no wife, jus' he an' his daughter, Hattie."
"Yuh don't mean Hattie Washington? That
H'l ol' sassy whore bitch who works at Lulu's roadhouse? That ain't her is it?"
"Yes, it is. None other!"
"I'll be damned! Hey, we had better look in on her, don't yuh think? I mean, being out here in the hot sun all day, lookin' for a jack-necked nigger, can make a man a bit hungry-"
"See if yuh can't get her to come out of the house. Let's take Hattie off inta' the woods and fuck her."
"Yeah-all right, it is kinda sexy that way. Them black gals likes to be treated like wild animals. Hattie, yuh 'n there? Come on out here, gal!"
Hattie appeared in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She only had on a thin white slip that outlined the contours of her body perfectly.
"What y'all want this time of day?"
"Yuh papa home, gal?"
"Naw-pa ain't been home for a week. Yuh know he's a drink'n' man."
"Come an' go with us, gal. We got somethin' to show yuh up the road apiece."
"Y'all come back some other time. I had a hard night last night. I don't want to be bothered now."
Jules cocked his rifle. "Come on, honey. We ain't got all day. Come on, and there won't be no trouble. Jus' do as we say."
Clem went to the house and took Hattie by the arm. He pulled her out into the yard. As he did so, he let his right hand drop to pinch her bubbly ass.
"Y'all got somethin' funny on yuh mind," grumbled Hattie, being led off into the forest.
They treaded through some bushes. Clem, who was behind Hattie, was having a fit. His eyes stayed glued to the way Hattie's high ass bumped up and down. They were big round balls of ass, and they jiggled with each step. She dropped her weight when the forward foot hit the ground, and the trailing leg let the ass ride up and down. A quiver of sensual motion that had Clem's dick bursting at the seams.
"Ah, shake that shit, mamma. Look here, Jules-this gal sure got some bumpers on her! Look how that ass of hers shakes up and down." Clem waited for Jules to catch up and they both stared down.
"Better cut that out. Y'all stop lookin' at my ass back there."
"We gonna do more than jus' look at it. Stop right there. This is far enough, ain't it, brother Clem?"
Clem put his rifle down and looked around. It was the perfect spot. There were tall green trees all around them and the tree tops served to make a covering. Clem went right up to Hattie and rubbed his dick on her round thighs.
"Wait a minute now, Clem. Who said yuh were gonna be first?"
"Ah, c'mon, Jules. Yuh fucked the bitch in town on Saturday nights a dozen times. I ain't!"
"Wait a minute," said Hattie. "Is this what y'all done brought me out here for? Ta get some free pussy? Yuh ain't getting no pussy for free, I'm tellin' yuh right now. A gal got to make a livin'. "
They looked at each other. Clem looked over Hattie's body. She didn't exactly look like a black nigger. Hattie must have been from New Orleans, because she was high yellow. She had reddish-brown hair that was parted in the middle. Her complexion was a golden caramel with freckles. She had big saucer-cup eyes and sexy eyelids. Her mouth was wide and puffy red; as if her lips were exclusively for sucking dick.
Hattie was short, which distributed her weight to make her look full and meaty. Her titties could be seen pushing out through the straps of her slip.
"Yuh gonna give us some, all right. We ain't got no money. We ain't got nothing but hard dicks . . . "
Clem came up behind Hattie and put his arm around her neck, and locked her tight. He pulled her back a little so that her ass was sitting on his leg. With his free hand, he rubbed her boobs into cones.
Seeing his pal touch Hattie's body turned Jules on. He stepped up and unzipped his pants. His long pole of a cock shot out and spurted juices on Hattie's belly.
Jules reached under her slip and grabbed a handful of pussy. He squeezed down and milked it until Hattie screamed in agony.
"Owee, shit, this gal is hot!"
"All black bitches are hot! Let's lay her down and get her out of this slip."
"Yuh dirty motherfuckers, y'all gonna take advantage of me. I wish I was a man. Y'all gonna have to beat me 'cause I don't work for free!"
Clem hit her across the mouth and Hattie fell down on the grass. "Now, I don't believe in women talkin' back to men, black or white. Now shut yo' mouth niggerwoman or I'm gonna put somethin' in it that's gonna gag yuh!"
"Yo' dick wouldn't gag a thimble! Yuh freakish white fag!"
Clem stomped her in the belly. Hattie threw up both arms and spread her legs. Clem bent down and shoved his hand into her slit. "Don't make me hurt yuh now, 'cause yuh much too pretty. I don't know how Jules is gonna fuck yuh, but I'm gonna put some age on that cunt of yers! Yuh believe that, bitch!"
Clem took off his jeans and crawled on top of Hattie. He tried to kiss her. She bit his lip and brought her knee up into his groin. Clem moaned and struggled to hold her still.
"Yuh ain't got no dick to fuck me with! Why don't yuh get up off me, yuh fag!"
Clem raised up just long enough to slap her across the mouth. "Lay still 'til I get this cock in yuh. I'm gonna show yuh!"
Jules came in back of Hattie and held her arms down. Clem was now free to stick it in her. He was already sweating, and his dick coiled down into her pussy like a corkscrew!
Hattie's body quaked a few times with the hideous pain, then she spit in Jules' face. It made Jules want her all the more. He gritted his teeth and started in fucking her for real.
He pumped her hard until his dick was slippery enough to fuck from any angle that he wanted. The black gal's pussy was red hot and sticky inside. Her walls seemed to cling to his shaft even as he was stroking in and out. Hattie's pussy hole had inside feelers that formed a suction cup. He could just lay his crown on the outer lips of her cove and the suction sucked his dick all the way up to her cervix. Good pussy. But then Hattie was a professional. Shit, with so many white dicks pumping her every Saturday, she had to know all the tricks. Hattie wasn't allowed to sell pussy to a black man in Lulu's place. The white men didn't want a big-dick black spoiling her good-time hole.
It wasn't long before Jules, the poop-butt, pooped his wad. He fell back, breathing hard and swearing to return and do better.
Clem took his time getting set. He rolled Hattie over on her stomach. He stroked her back up and down, and then patted her juicy butt hole. He barely touched her cheeks, and they trembled as though a storm was rumbling inside. He parted her legs and sat his ass down on one thigh. Then he put his dick just under her buttocks. When his tremendous cock popped in, Hattie gave a shrill yell. She buckled up into a knot, leaving her ass and cunt level with his straight arrow. He pierced her with it, too, right down the center core. He rang her chimes on the first stroke inside. He plugged into her electric system and Hattie automatically began to fuck him back. Hattie enjoyed it this way. She loved to watch the dogs fuck in the summertime-she found it quite romantic seeing fourteen dogs after one little female pooch . . .
It felt good to get it from the rear. She wiggled her ass back up for his strong fuck-she didn't like the mother-fucker, but he had a harder dick than Clem. She didn't want to hurt the other guy's feeling, but Jules didn't leave any stones unturned. He did a thorough job on her pussy. His dick was everywhere inside her, top, bottom, sides, middle, grinding, hunching, getting it for all he was worth. Then he did something that made Hattie shoot off.
He fucked her in rapid fire, driving up toward her windpipe, so hard that each hit jarred her head. Then as he was coming, he slowed down the fuck, to a gradual standstill-the sensation about to explode-even to the point where Hattie froze to get the good sensation-to wait for his semen to come spilling into her womb. But instead, Jules froze and then pissed inside her vagina!
"Oh, yuh mother-fucker, yuh! Yuh done pissed in my cunt!"
Hattie rolled over and fell back. Clem grabbed her and put her on top of his cock. "Jump up and down on it, baby. I like to see little gals fuck on top. Do it, mamma!"
There wasn't anybody around, so Hattie thought she would set this white cock on fire. No harm in enjoying herself. She twisted and wiggled until she got his dick exactly as she wanted it. She fitted down on the pole so it was tight up against her belly. She didn't want the cock sliding up and down. She just sat there and rocked from side to side. Every time she would rock, Clem would try his best to put some dick straight up in her.
Then Hattie reared straight up and began to dance on his dick. She popped her fingers and rolled her pussy on his pole. When she wanted it deeper, she leaned forward and spread her cunt. In no time at all, Clem had shot off a second time.
But Jules pushed Hattie back down on his cock. "Let me show yuh something, boy." Jules positioned himself in back of Hattie's ass while she was still over Clem's cock.
"What you doin'? "
"I'm fillin' up both yo' holes-that's what."
Hattie got it from both ends.
Both men fucked Hattie until they were exhausted. Then Clem, evil man that he was, called his dogs. He bent down and spoke into the biggest dog's ear. The dog wagged his tail and barked at Hattie. Hattie was just about to put her slip back on.
"Wait a minute, Hattie. Our dogs ain't fucked yet. They tell me that you screw dogs, so how 'bout givin' our dogs some."
"Yuh must be crazy!"
"Git that pussy, Jeff! Go get it, Butch!"
The two dogs barked and surrounded Hattie. Their jaws snapped her. Butch, the biggest dog, leaped upon Hattie and knocked her down. She tried to get up, but Jeff stood over her, growling. While Jeff threatened her, Butch sniffed between her legs.
"Git these dogs away from me!"
"Shut up, and yuh better not hurt those dogs!"
"That's right, Hattie-fuck 'em nice."
Hattie was helpless. She knew the dogs would snap her arm off if she didn't do what they wanted. The white men had trained the dogs to kiss, and evidently how to fuck females. Hattie rolled over, trying to get away. Butch leaped upon her ass with his front paws and barked. The bark sounded vicious, so Hattie froze. Then Butch's long red penis came into view-the dog knew that there was good pussy waiting. With his front paws on her ass, Butch pumped his prick until it made contact with Hattie's pussy.
It didn't take much for the prick to enter, and when it did, the dog growled deep in his throat. It was good pussy. Jeff, the other dog, heard the low growl and he howled. He got nervous and started jumping all over the place. The smell of pussy and prick was in the air, driving Jeff insane. He moved around watching Butch hump Hattie in the rear. Jeff seemed to be looking for some hole to plug. When he found none, he barked angrily in Hattie's face.
Clem and Jules sat on the ground, watching the dogs fuck Hattie. Clem brought out his whiskey bottle and they drank. Jules was leaning back against a tree when he heard a shot. Clem's head moved-and in that instant, the top of his body was blown away!
With the first shot still ringing in his ear, Jules leaped to his feet and tried to run. He had gotten no further than the center of the clearing when two shots hit him in the spine. He twisted and fell just short of where the dogs were still barking over Hattie. Two more shots were fired and the two dogs fell dead.
Hattie stood up, scared to death. Who was doing all the shooting? Then she saw Jimmy Joe and his men step into the clearing.
"Them dirty mother-fuckers! Yuh'll be all right now, Hattie. Yuh run on back home and forget about this. It's time we paid them peckerwoods back!
Emma Jean had been quiet since the disturbance began. Her husband, Harry, was pissed at her for being alone with Jimmy Joe at the river. Emma Jean kept trying to convince Harry that Jimmy Joe did not touch her. "He must have fucked you. Yuh too hot not to give it away to the first man who asks . . . "
"Yuh jus' pissed off because yuh can't fuck no more. All yuh can do is eat pussy. Hell, I should have fucked that nigger. Anything would be better than sufferin' in this here house with the likes of you." She caught her breath. "An' furthermore, one of these days I'm gonna give my pussy to some able-bodied man."
Harry had not fucked her in all that time. Emma Jean was ready to climb the wall. Although she felt badly about setting Jimmy Joe up that way, she still had herself to think of.
She tried to give her next-door neighbor some pussy, but his wife came home and spoiled it. She really had the old man going, too.
Everybody was nervous and jumpy with the killer niggers on the loose. Emma Jean wondered why Jimmy Joe had not come to fix her wagon. After all, she had started it all. By now that nigger was miles away from Lincoln. He wouldn't dare show his face in these parts.
One morning, Emma Jean got up feeling wicked. She wouldn't fix old Harry's breakfast. He cursed and went out to plow the fields.
Emma Jean got up and stood before the mirror. She threw off her nightgown and looked at her reflection. Thinking about Jimmy Joe had made her hot now. She wished the nigger would show up to rape her or something. Get rid of that itchy feeling she had inside her bowels.
Emma Jean freaked on herself. Like most women, she thought her body was the deciding factor to woo a man into bed. It strayed a little from her theory. Emma Jean believed it was in a woman's face. Her large almond-shaped, green eyes, gave her the look of a Southern tigress. The nose was elegantly shaped, the mouth wide, pouting at the corners, full, pink lips that implied so much. In all, she concluded that she was not bad to look upon. Men were suckers for that innocent, helpless stare. Invariably, she had found that men enjoyed being made to feel masculine by the sweet-purring whine of an eager-giving Southern belle.
Her tits, as her husband called them, were pretty good to look at, too. They even excited her, as she admired their images in the mirror. And she loved the way they were just heavy enough to make her notice how they jutted out in front of her.
A sensual smile crossed her lips as she lovingly cupped one and pricked a nipple. They spread with the burning fire inside them. Then she started to squeeze and pull the tit and the smile broadened. She looked into her eyes: "You devil you!"
Emma Jean turned her back to the mirror to see her ass. That was certainly one part of her body that men could not resist looking at. Her waistline was small and made her hips curvaceous, lending that well-rounded, pert appearance to her ass. Again, she thought herself lucky-while her buttocks were enormous pillows, and they trembled and shook all over the place, especially when she really strutted her stuff, they were still in proportion to the rest of her. Whenever she wore miniskirts, there was just the slightest hint of the enormous eclipse of her fat ass. She liked it that way. When she walked down Main Street, she could feel her cheeks shaking from side to side-giving off that friction inside the skirt. Oh, and shit, to wear silk, or rayon . . . really turned her on.
And the backs of her thighs gave her a charge, too. Her legs were long, and firm, still having that sexy resiliency. They were very well shaped and fleshy at the upper thighs where her panties squeezed taut over her cup -to show the bulge of her snatch. That was what the men in town had called her cunt-a little snatch box. In those days when she had necked in the woods, the first thing a guy grabbed was her shallow pussy! Foregoing everything else to get their fingers into her sticky slit. And she had grown rather fond of the name; her snatch box was pretty and complemented her beautiful legs.
Then she ran her hands to the insides of her thighs, grabbing a fistful of flesh, savoring how the softness felt in her own hands. Doing so, Emma Jean could imagine the pleasure it gave men to feel a woman up!
If only they knew. She shut her eyes before touching her center and imagined there was a huge, monstrous penis trying to push into her slit. She could feel the pain in her hole-gaping, contracting, and the hot flood of fluid seeping through her tunnel to wet her crotch. Her eyes shut tighter with the sensation, her little finger cocked and scratched at her clitoris. Through the silk panties, the excitement was magnified a hundred times-a tiny whimper rushed from her lips.
She loved it when any man looked at her and wanted to fuck her. It thrilled her to think she could so easily excite any prick. She enjoyed it most when a man was so hard and stiff that his penis was like a brick, strong enough to ram inside her pussy, calling out to let go . . . and swim in the sea of the man's come!
She loved the pain of a man's cock fucking her. To have to wrestle with it, bargaining, paying the price to see who would sell out first. To see if the female could once again service, conquer, and still get her kicks! And to make the horny cock seek return for the next performance. She loved looking at a man's body. And to think that when that monstrous cock could take no more of her own, special goodness-she and her shallow pussy could be drowned in the semen of all the explosive power! It thrilled her more than anything to see her man come and share his orgasm with her. In a strange way, it filled her with power to know that men found her irresistible. There wasn't one single husband in Lincoln County who would pass up the chance to ball her. Although their country community fell short in many things, it did provide kicks for those who wanted them. And weren't too chicken shit to try it.
Emma Jean stopped-she felt the presence of another person in the room. She turned and saw Jimmy Joe staring at her in the doorway.
"What are yuh doin' here, nigger?"
"Yuh still talk bad, don't yuh? I come back to kick yo' li'l ass for gettin' me in this trouble. Since I got accused of raping yuh, I thought I might as well get some."
"Yuh ain't man enough to take it, nigger!"
"Jus' watch me, bitch!" he said, coming out of his shirt.
Emma Jean leaped back around the bed. Jimmy Joe kicked the bed over with his foot. The bed rocked over on Emma Jean and made a crashing sound! Before Emma Jean could get free of the corner, Jimmy Joe grabbed her by the hair and slapped her. He swung her across the room. Emma Jean landed up against the vanity dresser! Jimmy Joe hit her again.
"Yuh can yell all yuh want. Ain't nobody near here and my men are outside guarding the house. So yo' ass is mine, bitch!"
He grabbed her hair again and snatched her head back. He planted a kiss on her mouth. A chill raced through Emma Jean's body.
"Yuh gonna have to kill me nigger!"
"I will baby-but I'm gonna do it with my dick! Yuh understand that, whore?"
"Fuck yuh!" she spit in his face.
He brought his knee up and sent it smashing into her middle. Emma Jean doubled with pain, she looked up, and he hit her again. She landed on the broken bed and he jumped on top of her.
This time when he kissed her, he bit her lips. Blood spouted between their mouths. Emma Jean soon calmed down.
Jimmy Joe growled like a dog and took a moment to catch his breath. Yeah-he was going to fuck the shit out of this white whore. He admired her wide hips and big, round, pretty thighs. It made Jimmy Joe's dick hard seeing how good and sexy she looked naked.
Jimmy Joe took out his dick. Suddenly, Emma Jean was gawking at his big, long, nasty dick. Her breath was taken away and it excited her to see him naked that way. She thought she would cream in her crack looking at that black powerful body moving toward her; its dick sticking straight out like an iron ball!
He grabbed her up and fitted her pussy over his dick. She had to stretch to accommodate all of him. His penis felt like a shaft of steel against her pussy.
Then, suddenly, Emma Jean was kissing him, holding his head down and flicking fire in his black face. Rape or no rape, she had missed her chance the first time. Her body was thirsty and needed some strong fucking. She was going to let this black man have her body, the crude, hot-natured bastard! He knew. He could smell her!
Then like a madman, he grabbed her and held her fast. Jimmy Joe wanted this pussy more than anything. He plunged ahead with all the power stored in his nuts. He was almost jumping up and down in Emma Jean's pussy. He was giving her all the dick he could, beside himself with delight, holding her ass tightly in his hands, while he fucked deep into her center-and made her stand up to every violent thrust he gave her. Emma Jean almost felt proud that he liked her so much! She tried to pull back to give him room to go along with his rhythm. But Jimmy Joe wanted her still where he could line up on her hole and put it straight in. His ass was going so fast that it was like a jackhammer, punishing her pork pussy! Then the fire ignited and suddenly there were two clawing animals; two pigs fucking each other, getting the best, right down to the very last drop.
"Oh, shit, give it to me, nigger!"
He jammed her especially hard for the name-calling. He long-dicked her then and Emma Jean was receiving but the best of the length.
Each time he stuck her with the stiff dick, Emma Jean shuddered in joy. It got better and better until finally she was tearing out her hair. She scratched his back to get him off of her. They had been fucking over forty minutes. Emma Jean's pussy was getting sore.
She had come six times and was going down for the last time.
Jimmy Joe came. But he wasn't through. He turned her over and fucked her in the asshole. Emma Jean didn't take to it right away -but she picked up rhythm and got into it. There was no way his pile-driving dick could fit into her small orifice-but there it was. Jimmy Joe laid his weight into his dick. It felt as though he was pile-driving a block of mud inside her tunnel-he jabbed, and jammed until he made headway. There wasn't an inch to spare in her precious fart hole. There was soon a bubbly, sticky, muddy substance all along his shaft.
Emma Jean gave a loud fart just as he jammed for the last time.
When Jimmy Joe had fucked her for the last time, he called in his men. They each had a turn with Emma Jean, and by the end of an hour, she had been balled severely by the biggest dicks in the country.
Jimmy Joe tied her with wet rawhide to a tree stump in the front yard. Her legs were stretched apart so when the sun dried the wet rawhide, it would stretch Emma Jean apart. Jimmy Joe spit on her and raced away.
Jimmy Joe was finally caught. One of his own men sold out for the reward money. The word was passed to the sheriff where Jimmy Joe was held up. The law swooped down on Jimmy Joe before he knew what was happening. Most of his men got away in the confusion; the law was only interested in apprehending Jimmy Joe.
The day the good folks of Lincoln, Alabama, burned Jimmy Joe alive, on the cross-Emma Jean was the first one to strike the match. And a reign of terror was ended for the white man.
CHAPTER NINE: SADIST NYMPHOMANIACS AS KIDNAPPERS
The entertainment world was stunned with the news that Tommy Weldon, the singing idol of millions of teenagers-had been kidnapped. The whole world sighed and held its breath.
There had been a very interesting twist to Tommy Weldon's rise to fame. Tommy's father had been the singing rage of the early forties. Bobby soxers swamped all of Dick Weldon's performances and tore off his clothes. Dick Weldon enjoyed a long success and retired early in 1968. His son, Tommy Weldon, recorded his first record which sold seventeen million copies in less than one month. He was a star overnight, like his father. America opened its arms to young Tommy Weldon. He starred in his own television show, which caught on and became number one in the ratings.
Young Tommy appealed to both young and old women. His best drawing card was his sexy build, and the fact that he wore no underwear. Millions of women throughout the world waited for his TV show to admire his sexy antics.
During personal appearances, women often threw their panties along with their motel keys on stage. It was virtually impossible for Tommy to leave after a performance without being mobbed.
Then, suddenly, at the height of his career Tommy Weldon was kidnapped. When Dick Weldon received news from Las Vegas where his son was starring at the Pebble Hotel, he was shocked. He flew his private jet from New York to Vegas, frantic with worry.
At first, Weldon thought his son had been abducted by the gangster syndicate of the night club circuit. Seventy-five percent of Vegas was legally operated, but the remaining twenty-five percent was controlled by organized crime. If an entertainer broke his contract too many times he was blackballed. A black singer, and a close friend of Dick Weldon had been the romantic idol of the early fifties, but was blacklisted when he dated a famous French actress. The big money said to lay off with the interracial dating. The black singer refused. He had signed a seven-year contract with a major recording company, and they would not release him. He got no work for the next ten years until the company let him go.
Dick Weldon knew how powerful the mob was. And, too, his son had broken several engagements and was having a money hassle. Dick Weldon naturally thought the mob was putting the screws on. Even though it did seem unlikely the mob would heist the kid. Nevertheless, Weldon wanted to make sure he was on hand when the negotiation for his son's life began.
By the time Dick Weldon arrived in Vegas, the abduction was a front-page item. There were screams that his son's disappearance was a hoax, a cheap publicity stunt. Hollywood said Tommy Weldon had run away because he was unhappy being the son of a famous personality.
AH vital details were given to the father, concerning the kidnapping. Tommy was last seen after his midnight show; he walked offstage toward the dressing room-from there he dropped out of sight.
Dick Weldon went directly to see the Big Man. Carl Riskins who sat on the Vegas empire. "Hey, it's me. Your long-time buddy, Tom. Why would I get your kid? Calm down. You don't know what you're saying . . . "
Weldon and Riskins argued bitterly in Ris-kin's lush penthouse.
"Riskins, I know you are a powerful man. But so help me, if anything happens to that kid, I'll tear your head off!"
"I did not snatch your kid. The organization has gone straight. You know that. We don't use strong-arm tactics anymore. Besides, if the kid is anything like you-he's probably just out balling some bitch!"
"Whatever. But just remember what I said. I'll get you, Riskins, if you're responsible."
After Weldon left, Riskins made a phone call to one of his boys. "Listen, Bilko, look into the disappearance of that Weldon kid, huh? Put some of our people on it. See what you can turn up. The FBI is too slow. I want that kid found. Yeah, I also want to have the kid's old man in my debt again. So find that kid."
Dorothy Cole had been arrested for robbery, prostitution, and attempted murder of a Las Vegas club owner. Dorothy worked the whorehouses in and around Vegas. She was nineteen years old, had dark brown hair. Her face was plain, but with make-up, Dorothy could hold her own. She was tall and slender, yet fleshy in the right places. Dorothy Cole was a nymphomaniac. A Scorpio who held no respect for the law.
One day before the Tommy Weldon disappearance, Dorothy Cole was told to get out of town and stay out by the local police.
That night Dorothy met Roberta Henson. They met in the Greyhound bus terminal coffee shop. Roberta was a good-looking brunette, twenty-five years old. Quiet, passive, and socially neurotic. Roberta virtually had no mind of her own. She had difficulty holding down a job because her attention span was short. The other hip chicks, the dykes and hustlers, used Roberta while in Vegas. Roberta remained in a constant state of heat and was ready to fuck on the spot!
"Did you get run out of town, too?" Dorothy asked Roberta.
"Naw, these whores stole my clothes and money. I guess I am a sucker. I always get-"
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Money is the only thing that counts in this country. This dump stinks. I wish I could get my hands on some real dough. Just once I'd like to shove shit in the Establishment's face. The way they shit all over us little people . . . "
A third girl, Lola joined the table. "You chicks mind if I sit down here? My dogs are barking!"
A mutual friendship blossomed between the three. All had similar problems and general dislikes for the Establishment. Lola had just been fired for balling a janitor, after hours. The owner, a male chauvinist pig shouted nasty things at Lola about her worthless talent. Lola lost her temper and stabbed the owner in the hand. Thus, she had to get out of town in a hurry.
The three women did not take the 9:30 bus to Los Angeles as they had intended. They picked up their bags, left the bus terminal, hotwired an automatic and drove off toward San Francisco.
Early that morning, twenty miles out of Vegas, their automobile broke down. They pulled the car off the road. It had been a nowhere trip. They were hungry, tired, angry and without money.
"What's wrong with the fucking car?"
"The starter is gone. The battery is okay-it's the starter!"
"How do you know?"
"My brother worked on cars. So you chicks get your thumbs out!"
Lola said, "I'm beginning to doubt having come along now. Why did I let you chicks talk me into this? I thought we were going to set the world on fire-we certainly didn't get very far. Let's face it. It's a man's world. Here we are, three dumb broads who can't fix a car."
"Ahh, it could have happened to anybody."
"Didn't happen to anybody-it happened to us!"
Dorothy said, "None of that has anything to do with it. A car is a piece of machinery."
Roberta, disgusted, put down her bag and went to sit on a boulder by the side of the road. The sky was just starting to glow with the morning sunrise. There was nothing but desert on either side of them.
Lola just plopped down on the ground and put her chin on her knees. But girls looked up at Dorothy, who was more or less their chosen leader.
Dorothy paced up and down the road, swishing her sweet ass. She was wearing a tight white skirt that cupped her small ass deliciously.
"Let's not panic, girls. I have a plan. I have a gun in my bag. We need some money because we ain't gonna get far without it. At this time of the morning the suckers will be driving along this stretch, drunk, and loaded. All we have to do is flag one over and stick the gun in his face. Then we'll take his money and his car. How does that sound? "
"You must be kidding," said Roberta.
"Naw, I'm from New York. We do it all the time there. It's easier than you think. The pigs are too busy to bother with petty shit like that. We'll be out of the state before the guy will be found."
"You think so, huh?"
"Here's what we'll do. I hitch a ride. Soon as I get in the car I'll shove a gun in the guy's belly and take his bread. We might even have a little fun. Who knows?"
Things did not work out as they planned. It was late morning before they saw a car on the road. The first two cars passed them by. Then they saw a convertible Ferrari cruising down the highway. There was a good-looking guy at the wheel.
"All right, you kids get behind that boulder. I'll flag this one down."
Dorothy stepped to the side of the road. She stuck out her thumb and took a wide stance. A breeze caught the material of her short skirt and pushed it between her legs, outlining delicious-looking thighs. The Ferrari braked and pulled over.
"Well-good morning, beautiful. Can I give you a ride? " called voice from the driver's seat.
"Wow, yeah! Thanks." Dorothy said, making her way to the side of the car. When she reached it, she pulled the gun and pointed it at the man.
"Hey-is that thing loaded. What's this?"
"Turn the motor off, buster. Sit still and you won't get hurt. Come on out girls-look at the fish I caught."
Lola and Roberta came out from behind the boulder. "You won't believe this, but I got Tommy Weldon," Dorothy told them.
"I'll be damned," exclaimed Lola. "It's really Tommy Weldon."
"At your service, ladies. But won't you please put the gun away?"
"I don't care who you are. I said sit still. Now shell out with your cash. We need dough!" The gun was waved dangerously near to his temple.
"If money is all you want. . . "
Lola tugged at Dorothy's arm, "Psst! That's Tommy Weldon. We just can't stick him up. Let's fuck the guy. Hell, I could use a good piece. Shit, I get horny in the morning-in all this sunlight. . . "
Roberta came over. "What are you two discussing?"
Dorothy stroked her chin in deep thought; there could be more money in this. She had an idea. "All right, you guys get in the car. We're going for a little ride. Move over, buster -I'm doing the driving."
They drove off the road. Dorothy was looking for a remote place where they would not be seen from the main highway. She found the perfect isolated spot and turned off the highway. They parked in a clearing where tall trees surrounded them, and there was enough brush to hide them.
"Get out of the car. Take him over there in the bushes . . . "
They got out of the car and led Tommy Weldon to a clump of greenery where there was a boulder. Lola walked beside him, reaching in front of Weldon to feel his dick. "Hmmm, he's got a nice cock, too. I used to dream about fucking you, man. I watch your show."
Tommy Weldon gave a genuine blush.
"All right, cut the chatter," said Dorothy. "Now we were just talking about how fate never smiles at us. How we never got the breaks. Well, look what fate dropped into our laps this morning. We can do one of two things. We can fuck the guy, have a couple of good nuts, take his cash and split. Or . . . we could hold out for more money."
"How?" asked Roberta, looking at Weldon standing before the boulder. Her eyes fastened on the tight pinch of his crotch. Lola was right-he did have a nice cock. She began to get itchy.
"Ransom. Do you know, according to what the papers say-this joker is the son of Dick Weldon. The old man is crazy about his kid. He'd pay a million dollars to get him back. Let's face it, this guy is important to millions of people. They will pay to get him back."
"That's kidnap!"
"The only way to score fast! We get the loot and split the country. Then we can make men bow at our feet. . . "
"If I may butt in," said Weldon. "I think you're making a big mistake. My old man doesn't give a shit about me. I'm just an item, a pound of flesh to those big shots. You'd just be wasting your time. Why don't you just let me go?"
"Didn't I tell you to shut up, mother-fucker! You pretty boy, you! You may be who you are when you're on stage-but you're with us now, facing a gun. You're just another fart to me, pal. Now cool it!"
"Hey-my head aches. Why don't we fuck him and talk business later."
"Yeah, Dorothy. This is Tom Weldon. Millions of women are creaming over themselves to sniff his cock. We have it right here. It'll be the first celebrity's cock I've ever fucked."
"You hold the gun on him, Dorothy. We'll take off those clothes and see what the star looks like. Eat your heart out American women!"
They rushed upon him and he staggered backward. Lola went to her knees and Roberta took off his shirt. While Lola unbuckled his pants she rubbed her hand over his cock. It bulged and stood stiff.
"Hey, look, girls. I'd be happy to oblige you some other time. But I just finished fucking a bitch, and I'm all pooped out. . . "
"Nobody asked you for a damn thing. I got the gun, buddy. You'd better get it up or I'll shoot your nuts off!"
"Don't worry, we'll get it up for you, honey." There was something in Lola's voice when she said this; clutching now, yanking his penis out of his fly.
"Oh, look!"
"Wow . . . we've got ourselves a big fucker."
"Kiss it, Lola."
"Let me get his clothes off first. . . "
Lola was now frantically yanking the trousers down Weldon's legs; excited by the other girls swooning.
"Shit, suck it quick, Lola!" Roberta was dancing on her toes, gleefully, like a child.
"All right. All right, give me a chance. Let me feel it first." Her small fingers came around his stock. She pumped it straight back and forth until the crown rose. Then she milked it down, its head pointed to the ground. "Oh, yeah, he's been fucking all right. Looks like the bitch he was with left her load here. Look at all the dried come around his crown. I'll lick it off-"
Her mouth clamped down on his penis. She took it as far as it would go into her mouth. She gagged, then looked up sheepishly at the other girls.
"Let me have some." Roberta was on her knees beside Lola. She snatched the dick away from Lola and sucked it. "God, it's juicy. You should try some, Dorothy."
Then the love ritual began. Tommy Weldon stood there between the two girls-one on each side of his legs. They both fingered his buttocks, moving around behind his ass. Lola had a bright smile, showing white teeth, as she smoothed her face over his right cheek. Then she leaned her head around and licked her tongue into his asshole. Weldon bolted. Lola giggled and patted his cheeks. "He's got an ass like a girl," she swooned.
The comment made Roberta try his asshole -only she dug her tongue in deeper.
They moved in front of him to grasp his penis. By this time, his penis was as hard as a rock. Lola stood up and put her arms around him. She kissed him in the mouth, not caring if he returned the kiss or not. She was like a kitten, snuggling her body all over his chest. Savoring the nakedness of his body.
Lola stepped back and unbuttoned her blouse. She was out of the blouse and skirt in seconds. This time, she ducked down to get her thighs up under his nuts, before coming on his cock once more. She put both arms around his neck and rolled her cunt over his penis. She spread her legs and dry-fucked him.
Roberta was down on her knees under the action, looking up from between Weldon's thighs. Her hands roamed over his hairy thighs and she stared at his penis, hanging down and rubbing in Lola's pussy.
The sun was beating down on Weldon, and the heat melted into a sexy energy. He was moved by the way the chicks were carrying on. Okay, so who was he to turn down pussy. Shit, why not be himself? At last, he was with real people, real women, not phonies like the ones in Vegas. Yeah-he was going to try and cock all three!
He pulled Lola to him (he liked her best) and fitted her thin frame to his hips. He rubbed his dick all over her small belly and between her thighs. She snuggled closer and he could feel her shiver. He squatted and pulled her legs apart. There was just enough room to get his penis in her cunt. It was a soupy, tight cunt. It took all his skill to get his penis a good six inches into her pussy. When his penis was finally inside, locked in, he began to hump her.
He fucked her fast, at first, just to get her going. Then he slowed down a bit and gave her straight shots up to the stomach. He knew that broads like her enjoyed their screwing hard and straight. He was a master at that. He could feel his dick stinging her, lifting her off the ground. He humped her harder and she grabbed on and threw her legs around his hips.
He cupped both his arms under her bottom and held it tight around his waist. His dick was screwing up like a mixer. They kissed and he stumbled around, with her holding on like a teddy bear.
The action was so fast and furious that the other girls stood paralyzed, trying to see everything at once. They did not think he would be so eager. They had expected him to fight. Not so.
Dorothy passed the gun to Roberta. She took off her skirt and sweater and stretched out on the ground. "Come here, cutie," she said to Weldon. "Let me show you something. They don't know what to do for a cock . . . "
Dorothy made him crawl on top of her. He sat on her chest while she fucked his dick between her tits. His cock was stuck warmly between her two soft mounds. For a moment, she raised up and took the penis in her mouth. She just wanted to get a little taste. She wouldn't let go of his penis and kept mouthing it.
Weldon, still sitting on her chest, reached back and finger-fucked Dorothy. She fanned her thighs open and shut, fighting the fiery feeling.
He went back to fucking her titties. Dorothy used her palm to keep the dick's thrusts straight, while her fingers teased and stroked the dick, sliding, slipping between her tits.
Dorothy had it all down. She was a professional, loving her work. She knew how to get the best out of a dick. Before mouthing the crown, she would rub the shaft to get it hot. From the shaft, she ventured down around the nuts. She squeezed them, but knowing how to delicately keep the pressure from crippling him. When she saw the shaft jerk, throb to shoot off, she put it in her mouth to taunt the oncoming explosion. Once she had captured the crown and knew it was about to shoot off, she would not let go. No amount of begging, or passionate pleas would free her mouth. It was as if a turtle had snapped down on the penis.
Dorothy maneuvered him into a sixty-nine position. Afterwards, she climbed on top of Weldon's cock and fucked a mile a minute.
They came that way and she reeled around and shoved her rear to his cock. Weldon took the lead and rammed her in the asshole. It was the same as fucking her pussy. Dorothy, being a whore, made use of all her holes. She had charged her customers double the price when she gave up her rectum. Usually, when Weldon fucked a chick in the butt hole, it was a hassle. It was either too small, or too gritty! Dorothy's asshole was as juicy as her vagina. He slipped in practically unnoticed.
His penis was stuck a good ten inches into her rectum. Weldon braced himself. Dorothy squirmed and wiggled back like a whiplash! It got so good to Weldon that he collapsed over her back. He had to let her do the fucking. He had all he could handle, simply holding on. He grew weaker. His nuts were being crushed by the tight cunt, pounding back on his rod.
Dorothy took pity on him and turned over on her back. He got down between her legs, anxious to shoot his best shot. He raised both of her knees to her chest-he wanted plush pussy. Dorothy kicked her heels in the air-and took it all. Right down to the very core of her cunt hole. All they could see then was Weldon's pink ass shaking in the breeze.
Weldon shot off and fell over.
Lola pounced on his dick, beating out Roberta, to see who would suck the come away. Lola was a come-freak and she lapped up the sticky substance in a flash. She looked at Roberta with come juice dripping from her lips. Roberta said, "You pig!"
Roberta snatched his dick away from Lola. "God, it's so damn big. Oh. shit! I didn't think men could be this big-" She leaned across his naked body and began sucking his cock. Roberta's head came down and his penis pushed up into her mouth. Her hands cupped under his nuts and his peter strained bigger . . . standing out like a limp serpent. She tickled his nuts very carefully, knowing how tender they were. Then she concentrated in earnest on sucking the crown. Her head went up and down. Then she reared back and withdrew his penis and made her tongue dance over it, before taking another mouthful! Up and down like a suction cup!
Roberta was so hungry for it. As if she at last had the privacy she needed to freak out on a slimy, come-filled cock. It was sheer misery for Weldon to see this crazed creature hovering over his penis, keeping Lola away. Her eyes rolling around in her head, her fingers stretching, teasing, and her tongue driving his dick head crazy. He couldn't help himself and shot off in her pretty mouth. The semen spurted all over his crown. The moment she saw the juice, she whipped out her tongue. And there came a slurping noise as she drank it-making sure there was none left. Roberta drained him and his penis fell limp, and she was more loving, as if she had just won a victory and was most understanding of a man's feelings.
However, Lola did not want his prick soft, so she continued loving him down around his nuts. Gradually, his pipe wiggled and found new life and again stood tall like an ivory tower. Her eyes brightened, knowing that he must be one hell of a stud to get a hard-on again so quickly. Perhaps it had something to do with Dorothy holding the gun to Weldon's neck. Roberta made a vow in her own mind that she was going to give his powerful penis an extra-special job.
When it was hard again, she set out to love down along the shaft. He changed positions, wanting to pump his penis good and stiff into her mouth. So Weldon lay Roberta down on her back and climbed over her face, and she was between his hairy legs. His ass was sitting on her tits. It felt great because her mouth was warm and slippery. It felt best when he would push too much length down her throat and she'd nearly gag. And every time his penis struck deep in her throat, he could feel his semen spurting. She drank and sucked. Deeper and deeper his penis sank, until finally, she angrily pushed it out of her mouth. "Oh, you're choking me!"
Roberta tired of sucking his cock. She pushed Lola off to one side and moved Weldon to his back. Roberta caught his penis and put it into her slit. His body humped up into her tunnel. Roberta rode his cock as she would a bucking bronco, hanging in there. He whip-lashed her and drove up like a jackhammer. The flesh of her quivery buttocks shook violently with the roughhouse fucking. Her ass made nice globular balls and his hands were there to grasp them as she sat on his rod just the way he wanted.
Weldon had so much cock hung up in her that he thought she was going to break down and cry like a baby. But Roberta did not. She enjoyed it more than he did. Even when he felt his long shaft pierce far up into her stomach-she only giggled and shot her ass down harder. Slip, shot, slip, shot!
Roberta lost his rhythm and fell behind-by the time she caught up, Weldon had made her climax! She had been out-fucked!
Lola, jealous of the way Weldon had fucked the shit out of Roberta, said, "I sure wish we had a better place to cock this dude. Where I could get into his ass good . . . "
"You're right. That's enough girls," said Dorothy. "I know a swell place to hide him. I used to date this guy who owns some property nearby. There's an old cabin. I think I can still find it. I used to drive out there to sell him pussy. Come on."
They found the cabin. It was far enough in the foothills to be safe. There were tall trees and foliage enough to cover the cabin from the main highway. During the search for the cabin, the girls heard the kidnap reports on the radio. They knew that the world was looking for Tommy Weldon. There were all kinds of theories as to how Weldon had disappeared, and where. The last report had Weldon skyjacked over Cuba.
The girls laughed. Suddenly, they realized that they were important public figures. They had pulled off the greatest crime of the century, with all the cops baffled, without even trying.
"Now, here's the setup, girls," Dorothy said, after they had squared away the cabin. "Tomorrow morning I am going into Vegas to contact Weldon's father."
"Hope you know what you're doing."
"Don't worry. You guys just make sure you don't fuck this guy to death!"
"Hey, it's my turn with Weldon. My own man to play with. I can do anything I want and he can't fight back. How marvelous!"
"Wait a minute-you two got it pretty good out there. It's my turn to tan his hide!"
"After me," said Lola, walking over to the cot where Weldon lay. "Wake up, pretty boy."
He stood up and was made to face the wall. Lola pulled his trousers down over his buttocks. She took a moment to lick each cheek. Then she tickled her thumb into his rectum. "How do you like that, huh? Ain't that what you men do to women? You treat women like dogs and sex objects. How does it feel to be our sex object? There's something I have always wanted to do . . . "
Lola swished her ass back a few paces and took up a wide-legged stance. Then she swung a belt that cut Weldon across the buttocks. He twisted around and snarled. "You little bitch!"
Lola pulled her weight behind the next blow and the belt wrapped around Weldon's face. He quickly turned to face the wall again. He was at their mercy.
It was ironic that Lola should have her hair fixed in pigtails. Her honey-colored face just did not fit the role of a super-sadistic bitch who got her kicks beating virile men's asses!
Dorothy and Roberta watched quietly, excited by the lesson being taught.
All of Lola's life she had been a sex object. Men fucked her and threw her away-like snotty tissue. One could understand the delight Lola felt beating Weldon's ass.
For a long while she beat and beat to get the hate out. When her arm got too tired to swing, she switched hands, and beat some more. When she finally paused to catch her breath, she saw how his back was red with blood. It seemed to delight her even more when he groaned in pain. The female was exerting authority for a change.
Weldon, too weak to stand-turned around and slumped against the wall. "Stand up straight, you bastard."
"We could cut his dick off," suggested Roberta, caught up in the bizarre thrill of seeing a man too weak to stand.
"Not yet. His cock doesn't look so masterful now, does it?"
"Men without their cocks couldn't run the world then. Could they?"
"Yeah-pretty boy. You think men don't need women. You think femininity is just something to rub your feet on . . . "
"Yeah, we're door mats to you! Hit his ass some more, Lola. Hit him one for me. Slash his dick one time!"
Lola did exactly as she was told. She snapped her arm back and hit his penis with a good firm stroke. It was a damaging blow that nearly detached his penis from his body.
"Lay his weak ass on the table. We're gonna show him how it feels to be a female. Show him the pain that women have to suffer at the hands of male dogs."
Weldon was picked up and thrown across the bunk. Roberta stood at the head and held his arms. Dorothy sat on the small of his back and pushed his face into the mattress. Lola had found a large Coke bottle and had the nose of it at his rectum.
"Please, don't do this to me, girls!"
"Ah, c'mon, you've fucked girls in the asshole before. Women and punks take it. You can, too!"
"I think he feels he would lose his masculinity, if he was degraded that way-well, it puts females down if yuh fuck 'em in the ass-the way you rape sheep."
"Give it to him, Lola. Don't let him talk his way out of it!"
The whole cabin shook with a piercing sound that Weldon made when the Coke bottle was shoved up his rectum. He then weeped quietly.
Dick Weldon did not think anyone would recognize him with the dark glasses on. He was wrong. He was being watched by a beautiful girl in a bikini at poolside. Weldon had a long weary night answering phone calls, avoiding news reporters trying to get the inside story of his son's kidnap. He had been hassled by the police. He had not wanted interference from them in case he was contacted by the abductors. They insisted that his phone be tapped. Weldon, a man with power himself, flatly said no! The Hollywood press said that Dick Weldon was drunk with power, so much that he'd take the law into his own hands. Then came the nasty one-liners that implied that Weldon was using the special forces of the underworld to find his son. Others said it was all a publicity stunt, and nobody in the world was crazy enough to hit Dick Weldon's own son!
Despite the reports coming out of Hollywood, Weldon was worried about his boy. But he decided that he would play it cool for the time being. Whoever kidnapped his son was professional and would have his own method of contacting him. He decided he would sun-bathe at the motel pool. That would be the last place snoops would look for him, figuring he would be bereaved by the disappearance of his son.
He was wrong. He was being watched. The beautiful girl in the bikini was on the other side of the pool. She casually took off her sunglasses and dove into the pool. She swam across and emerged near Weldon's table.
"Good morning, mind if I join you?"
Weldon didn't say anything. At first, he thought it was some cheap hustler who made a practice of hustling celebrities at poolside. Then when he saw the girl pull herself from the water, he did a double take.
"You're Dick Weldon, aren't you. I mean I'd know you anywhere."
"Yeah, chick, what can I do for yuh?"
"To begin with, I'm not a chick. You look as though you could use a little company. Mind if I sit down?"
"Help yourself," he was sure he had made contact.
He glared across the table at her. The bikini was flesh-colored with white trimming; it was virtually impossible to tell where her flesh began and the bikini ended. Her hair was pulled back in a twist, with a fall at the rear. It was a perfect frame for her sexy, exquisite face. There were large, deep pools of blue eyes, accented professionally by false lashes.
"Care for something to drink?"
"It's too hot down here . . . "
He stared at the half-cup halter and the tops of her breasts were like moons peaking over the horizon. Her large tits were a bursting bloom of prickly nipples, reflecting brilliancy.
"I'll come to the point, Mr. Weldon. We have your son."
She waited to see the effect. Weldon straightened up and looked around as if there might have been CIA agents sneaking about.
He could say nothing.
"All right, that's established. Let's talk about money. And try to act as though you're picking me up. I suggest that we go up to your suite and discuss this, cards down on the table."
"We can discuss it here. Is my son okay?"
"You'll see soon enough. We'll kill him if one single thing goes wrong. Now how much money can you raise in the next hour? Two hundred thousand? "
"You gotta be out of your cookie. I can't raise that kind of money on a moment's notice. An hour? No."
"Then say good-bye to your son, daddyo!"
His mind raced. "Would you settle for a lower amount?"
"Two hundred thousand dollars! And you're getting off cheap. You have one hour to get it up. Of course, I'll stay by your side. Like I said, I'm the pickup you intend to screw. Let's move, we've talked ten minutes already. You have fifty minutes left."
"You must be crazy!"
"Yeah," she smiled. "I am."
Weldon asked the waiter to bring a phone to the table. He called Carl Riskins.
"Listen, Riskins. I don't have a lot of time. I need two hundred thousand dollars. Right away."
Riskins answered, "Are you off your rocker? Oh . . . you've been contacted. Who has the kid?"
"Cool it. I have to draw the money with nobody noticing it. Here's what I want you to do. In fifteen minutes I'm going to try my luck in the casino. You arrange for me to win two hundred thousand dollars. Fifty thousand at the dice table, one hundred thousand at the blackjack table . . . that way it won't arouse the cops' interest."
"Who's gonna pick up the dough? Maybe we can arrange to help."
"No. You just make sure those boys at the table make sure I win."
It was done. Weldon won the two hundred thousand dollars without too much suspicion. The luscious dame at his elbow was even more noticeable than his winnings.
Upstairs in his suite, he handed over the money to Dorothy.
"What happens next?" he asked.
"You just sit still. You'll hear from us. Now it's up to you to make sure I get out of this hotel safely. Anything happens to me and your son is a goner! You'll hear from us in one hour. It's been a pleasure doing business with you. Oh, by the way-you have a lousy voice. Your kid sings much better than you ever did. Just thought I'd throw that in there!"
Three minutes after Dorothy had left the suite, two plain-clothes men barged in. "Weldon, you've just made the biggest mistake in your life. Why didn't you let us know the contact was being made.
Weldon looked up over a glass of Scotch. "I told you I would handle it my own way. You guys would have muddled it."
"You don't really think they'll let him go now. They have to kill him."
"The trouble with you cops is that you have no faith in your fellow man. Money talks in this society."
They argued and waited. One hour passed, another, and Weldon broke out in a cold sweat. Could he have made the wrong decision? Maybe the police were correct.
The doorbell rang. Weldon leaped to his feet and snatched open the door. A bell-cap stood there with a box in his hand.
"It's for you, Mr. Weldon. It was delivered in the lobby by a pretty young lady. She said that I was to make sure you got this."
Weldon snatched the box and tore the wrapping off of it. Then he ripped it open. He froze, and a horrible look came across his face. He grabbed his mouth and rushed for the bathroom.
The two policemen, stunned by Weldon's action, picked up the box to see what was in it. The white tissue paper was covered with blood, and in the center was a lump of meat that had once been Tommy Weldon's penis . . .
