The Violated Virgin by Ward Fulton Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Suzanne sat in the bathroom for almost an hour, trying to compose

herself and wondering what to do, where to go and how she should plan

her future. She knew she couldn't stay in the neighborhood; that was

out of the question, she reasoned. And yet, if those boys wanted to

find her, they had only to call her home anonymously and find her new

address and then the whole horrible scene would start all over again.

Finally, she realized she was getting chilly, and reached for her robe,

tied it around her and lay down on the couch, her hand over her eyes.

Her body was still throbbing painfully, and she eased herself against

the cushions, trying to relieve the ache.

Suddenly her nerves jangled with alarm as she heard the clatter of

footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later a loud knock on the door,

and Yvonne's throaty voice came filtering through.

"Hey, anyone home?"

"Come in, Yvonne," Suzanne called out thankfully, and as her friend

walked in the door Suzanne felt the tears well up. Yvonne took one look

and hurried over to her.

"Oh, baby, what's the matter?"

Suzanne reached for the other woman, buried her face in her shoulder,

and sobbed hysterically. Yvonne remained silent, rocking the girl

quietly in her arms until the crying spell had passed.

"Okay, you want to talk about it? Is it Sam?"

Suzanne wiped her eyes, and shook her head.

"No. No, it's not Sam. It's ..." Her voice broke, and a fresh flood of

tears cascaded down her cheeks. Her robe fell open, and Yvonne's eyes

strayed down to her breasts.

"Good God, what's happened to you?" Instinctively the older woman put

her hand out and touched the scratches and bruises on the smooth, firm

white breasts. Then her face blanched. "Oh, no, don't tell me. Who was

it?"

Suzanne looked away, flushing, her mind filled with confused thoughts.

"Come on, I know something's happened, and you look like you were raped

by a regiment. Who was it, goddammit?"

Suzanne looked at Yvonne, and her lip trembled.

"It ... it was that kid, Donald, you know. He and his brother and a

colored boy. They all ... they all ..."

"Jesus Christ!"

Yvonne stood up and reached in her pocket for a cigarette, lit one and

stood back, observing Suzanne. The cigarette trembled in her fingers,

and her dark eyes were filled with anger.

"You want to talk about it?"

Suzanne nodded, sat up, and carefully related her experiences of the

past two days, making sure to leave out nothing. When she had finished,

Yvonne, who had walked to the window and was looking out, listening,

turned to her and ground her cigarette in the ashtray.

"Well, there's not much you can do, I guess, except get the hell out of

here," she said. "Those little bastards'll be back again, you know

that. One thing: you're not staying here tonight. You come to our

apartment. You can stay with me and Carole. You'll probably feel better

with some decent company around."

She took Suzanne's hand and lifted her up. Suzanne rose and put her

arms around Yvonne.

"Oh, Yvonne, I feel so dirty," she murmured. "They were so horrible, so

mean."

"Oh, dear, I've just thought of something," said Yvonne. "Have you had

a hot bath, and douched?"

Suzanne shook her head. "I just sat in the bathroom, trying to think,"

she replied. "I haven't done anything."

"Okay: first thing, you go lie in the bath for an hour, and douche real

good. You sure as hell don't want to get pregnant at this stage of the

game. You say they did come in you?"

Suzanne nodded. "Yes, they did. I could feel it shooting inside me and

running out."

"You're not on the pill, I gather?"

Suzanne shook her head. "Why should I be? I've never done that with a

guy before. I wanted to save myself for Sam. And now, oh, Yvonne, it's

horrible."

"Yes, yes, I know, dear. Listen, perhaps you'd better come to our place

now. You can use our bathroom, and I have a douche can which gets lots

of use, let me assure you."

"No, I'll come down later," said Suzanne. "I'll bathe up here."

"Look, dumdum, they might just as easily come back now," Yvonne said.

"Come on, come down right this minute. Lock your door behind you, and

turn the lights out."

"All right. Are you sure Carole won't mind?"

Yvonne laughed loudly. "Of course not. Would you believe Carole started

living with me after something similar happened to her, about a year

ago? We both lived in a building over on Cass, and I figured it was

safe enough, but I guess you never can tell. Carole was raped by a guy

one night, and came running to me for help. She spent the night, and

the next day she moved in. We've been sharing a place ever since. And

believe me, there've been no more episodes like that in her life."

Yvonne's face softened from its usual cynical demeanor. "You poor kid.

Come on."

Suzanne looked at her friend, and smiled for the first time since the

boys left the apartment.

"Thanks. I do appreciate this."

"Nonsense."

Yvonne put her arm around the girl's waist and they walked to the door.

Suzanne took the key off the nail where she usually hung it and locked

the door behind her. In silence they walked to Yvonne's apartment. As

they entered, Carole was seated on the couch, reading.

"Hi." Then she saw the expression on their faces. "Oh, wow, what's

wrong?"

"You remember one night something that happened to you?" said Yvonne,

and Carole nodded, her face becoming grim, "Well, it happened to

Suzanne. Not one, but three, all at the same time. One black, two

white. Now that's what I call carrying integration too far." She tried

to smile, but Carole's face remained impassive.

"Jesus. You going to call the police?"

Suzanne shook her head.

"That will only mean scandal, and it would be their word against mine.

What can you do, really?" She sat down, and stared vaguely around the

apartment. Carole whistled softly, and looked up at Yvonne.

"Men," Her voice spat out the word. "Who needs 'em?"

Yvonne nodded. "They're all animals, beasts," she agreed, "Thank God I

can live without 'em."

Suzanne frowned, and stared up at Yvonne.

The sincerity and hate in the woman's voice was unmistakable.

"Yvonne, you ... you ..."

Yvonne grinned, reading her mind. "Oh, don't you believe all you hear,

dear," she said lightly, some of her usual flipness returning. "I put

on a good front, but believe me, the only cock I admire is the one on

my father's farm in Upper Michigan, and all he does is make a lot of

noise every morning. Which is what I do about men, just to keep them at

arm's length."

Suzanne frowned, and decided not to pursue the matter further. She

suddenly felt extremely weary, and the idea of a hot bath appealed to

her.

"I'd like that bath now," she said. "Then I think I'd just as soon lie

down. I'm worn out."

"Fucked out, you mean, dear," said Yvonne bluntly. "But don't worry.

You'll be all right tomorrow, take it from me."

Suzanne stood up and slowly walked to the bathroom. Yvonne followed her

in, and pointed to a towel behind the door. "You can use that towel,"

she said, "and the douche can's in the cupboard there. Make it nice 'n

hot, and put a tablespoon of this in the water. The douche water, I

mean." She reached for a box and handed it over. Suzanne looked at it.

"Don't look so confused," said Yvonne, grinning. "It's plain old douche

powder, but it'll kill anything that shouldn't be up that little twat

of yours. It'll also soothe those tender spots, and they can get very

tender, I know. I've had my share. Years ago, you understand." She

laughed, and Suzanne smiled at her.

"You're a good friend," she said warmly. "Thanks."

Yvonne left, and Suzanne closed the door and began running the water

into the tub. She mixed the douche powder and inserted the nozzle,

feeling the hot water gushing into her vagina, reminding her of the

penis that had been up there, that enormous, black cock which had given

her such pleasure. What was she thinking? Pleasure? Yes, her mind

echoed, yes, it did. It made you feel better than any sex you've ever

had. You've ever had? You've only had sex since yesterday, and before

then it was your finger doing the walking through that cavern of yours.

Well, it was better than Ted, better than Donald, she admitted to

herself. And there was such a perversity about it, especially

considering her innate feelings about the blacks. Not that she was

anti-Negro; she just didn't ever desire to have relations with one. The

rest of him she didn't particularly like. But his penis was undoubtedly

the best: long, thick, rigid, able to probe her very depths and give

her satisfaction like she never dreamed possible. What was his name

again? Clayton; that was it, Clayton with the big cock.

She lay back in the tub, letting the hot water lap around her neck,

covering her completely and easing the soreness in her limbs,

especially her thighs and her neck. Yes, those would be the places that

ached the most. Her thighs from all the action with her legs, wrapping

them around those sweating, fucking bodies and having those pricks

ramming in and out of her. Carefully she put her finger down to her

vulva and probed inside. It was tender, but not so bad as she thought

it would be. Hell, why should it be? she reasoned. Nothing sharp had

been put in there, only a soft tongue or a hard, smooth cock. But even

too much of that can cause redness, soreness, swelling ... swelling, oh

God, she prayed she wasn't pregnant. But she remembered somewhere

reading that a good hot bath and a douche will take care of any

unwanted pregnancy. She had done that last night, and now again

tonight. She was all right; she knew she was. She prayed she was.

Her fingers massaged her neck, the muscles on each side that had been

given such a workout with sucking all that cock. She wondered how

whores managed, doing it every night. Maybe they got used to it, or

maybe there was a knack to sucking a penis without getting sore muscles

in the neck.

She lay back, letting her arms float, and closed her eyes. The memory

of the three boys was still vivid, and the more she relived those

moments of horror, the more she admitted that there had been a

satisfaction about it. After all, they weren't doing anything that she

wouldn't have been doing with Sam, once they had been married; but then

wasn't that being just old fashioned? She heard her mother's voice,

telling her not once but many times that nice girls don't let boys have

their way, not until after marriage. "Yes, my dear," Mrs. Delacorte had

said. "All this talk today of sleeping around may sound very modern and

clever, but let me tell you, getting pregnant isn't any fun. I remember

when I was carrying you, how often I'd get sick in the mornings, and

then when you arrived, let me tell you, having a baby is just about the

worst experience any woman can endure. I've often thought the Lord

might have thought up an easier way. Maybe one day science will provide

the answer with incubators and computers. It certainly will save a lot

of inconvenience, don't you think?"

Yes, maybe so, Suzanne had thought; but now she had experienced sex,

she wondered if the good Lord didn't have the right idea after all. It

was a wonderful feeling, and whether it had been Ted, or Donald, or

Clayton, her body had responded, and she trembled again at the thought

of their organs penetrating her and sending those exquisite feelings

through her, and her orgasm had been something she could scarcely

believe. Oh, how wonderful she had felt! Yet why couldn't it have been

someone nice, a boy like Sam who loved her, and who treated her with

tenderness and was gentle with sex, instead of that violence, with its

ugly words, its revolting bestial overtones, like she was an animal

there to be fucked and nothing more? Yet she had to admit she enjoyed

it. There was something perverse in her nature, she decided, that

wanted to be treated roughly, to be physically manhandled and taken

bodily without regard to her sensitivities. In some ways, she wouldn't

mind having sex again with those boys, but not in the same way,

perhaps. Suzanne sat bolt upright in the tub, her eyes wide open at the

thoughts; good grief, she thought, I'm sick, thinking things like that.

Any self-respecting girl would never want that again; but then, how

really self-respecting was she? Was it that perhaps she needed that

type of sex to truly satisfy her, something loathsome to her previous

ideas, something so different from what she had dreamed of ...

"You all right in there?" Yvonne's voice came ringing through the door.

"Yes. Fine."

The door opened, and Yvonne peeked around at her.

"We're fixing supper," she said. "How long'll you be?"

"I'm ready to get out now," replied Suzanne, smiling. "And would you

believe, I'm starving."

Yvonne sniffed in her best Eve Arden manner. "I know what you mean,"

she said cynically. "Nothing like a good fuck to work up an appetite."

"Yvonne!"

The door closed, and Suzanne smiled to herself. Yvonne was a nut, but a

good friend, a sincere and true person.

She climbed out of the tub and stood, drying herself carefully, paying

special attention to her crotch and her breasts. The marks had faded

slightly, but her nipples were still very sore and tender. She slipped

her robe on again and walked out into the living room. There was a

smell of stew, and the small table in the kitchen was set for three.

Carole was standing over the stove, stirring a large pot. Yvonne was

opening three Cokes and pouring them into glasses.

"Well, feel better?"

Suzanne nodded. "Much. I still ache, though, and my breasts are sore."

Yvonne chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Sounds like they really gave you a

working over."

"They did."

"The bastards."

Carole tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and turned,

grinning. "Yvonne and I both know about the kids in this neighborhood.

They look like sweet innocent little things, but they've been fucking

their sisters since they could get a hard-on. And the girls are no

better. I caught one the other day in the alley, blowing some man for a

quarter."

Suzanne's eyes opened wide.

"Don't look so shocked. That's nothing to what really goes on around

here." Carole laughed. "I've done a little research myself. I'm also

taking sociology, remember."

Suzanne sat down and pursed her lips. "You know, I truly feel that if

these people didn't live in such degraded surroundings, they'd have the

chance to develop better, to have a more uplifting outlook on life. And

sex," she added.

Yvonne snorted. "People are people," she snapped. "Just because the

income's low and the area a slum doesn't necessarily mean people have

to indulge in behavior like they do. It's not the finances or the

neighborhood. It's what makes them tick inside. Take it from me. I've

known lots of people from Grosse Pointe who do just the same, only

perhaps with a little more finesse."

Suzanne nodded.

"I know. I've heard about the orgies they have, but at least there

isn't the rough raw ..." She groped for words, "... the bestial type of

approach. Those kids handled me like I was just some object they could

do what they pleased with. There was no hint of love, affection, or

anything like that. It was pure animal sex, and nothing more. It's

frightening."

Yvonne sat down and nodded. "Yup. I know. Would you believe when I was

ten, I was gang-banged by four kids at school. They walked home with

me; we lived quite a ways from school. This was up in that stinking

little town in Upper Michigan where I was born. Anyway, the one guy,

his name was Hank. I'll never forget him. He must've been around

fourteen, real good-looking, and he had been paying me a lot of

attention. He said I was the prettiest girl in school. I knew it was

just because I sassed him back when he talked to me. I was pretty

mature for my age, I guess. And I knew all about the birds and the

bees, so I knew what he was hinting at all the time, but I wasn't

giving them any chances. Hank even asked me once if I wanted to come

home with him and play with his prick. He said it was the biggest in

class. He wasn't lying about that, by the way. Jesus! I told him to

quit talking like that or I'd report him to the teacher.

"Well, this afternoon, I'll never forget it, he walked me home, and

these other three kids joined him. They were all about thirteen or

fourteen, I guess. Hank started talking dirty, and then suddenly, just

as we were passing old man Johnson's barn, they grabbed me, and whipped

me inside before I could scream or shit or go blind or anything. They

had my clothes off and were having at it before five minutes had

passed. Two of them held me down while the others had their fun. I've

never been so scared in my life. I bled like crazy, but that didn't

stop them. They all got their rocks off, and then ran like hell,

leaving me there.

"I kinda cleaned myself up as best I could, and limped home. I could

hardly walk, my cunt was so sore. When I got home, I went to the

bathroom and sat in a tub for hours, it seemed. When mother got home

from work, I told her what had happened. She went to the principal of

the school, and the boys were hauled up and all hell broke loose. Of

course, they all denied it, and it was four of them against me. And

that's where it ended. I was too young to get pregnant, thank God, and

none of them had the clap, so after a few days, apart from a tender

cunt, I was back to normal. But I've never forgotten that. Which is why

I feel the way I do about men right now, I guess."

There was a silence. Throughout Yvonne's story, Carole had been

watching her, her eyes filled with compassion. Suzanne gasped when

Yvonne ended.

"You mean ... nothing was done?"

Yvonne gave a short laugh. "Like I said, was their word against mine.

Just like you and those bastards. If you go to the police, it will only

mean scandal, and you couldn't prove anything. And they'd get their

families to provide an alibi. No, little one, chalk it up to

experience, just hope you haven't been knocked up, or got the clap or

something, and let it go. Of course, if any of them come knocking at

your door again, call the police first and don't open the door whatever

you do. Better still, stick your head out the window and scream bloody

murder. That'll scare 'em off."

Suzanne thought a moment.

"I guess I'd better get checked out by a doctor, just in case."

Yvonne shrugged. "If you want to. I'd wait a few days, though. You'll

know if anything's wrong in that department. As for being pregnant, I

don't have to tell you how to know about that." Her tone softened, and

her hand came out and squeezed Suzanne's arm. "You poor kid. It's rough

to go through something like that when you've been protected all your

young life."

Suzanne grinned. "Well, we live and learn."

Carole brought over the food from the stove and placed it in the middle

of the table.

"Okay, enough of this talk," she said lightly. "Time to eat. Dig in."

Thankfully, Suzanne helped herself to the stew, and began eating

ravenously. For some reason, the horror of her experience had faded and

she felt a warm glow, surrounded by her friends in a pleasant

atmosphere where she knew she was safe. At least for the moment. But

what about tomorrow?

* * *

The silence was broken by Carole slamming her books closed, and pushing

back the chair from the desk.

"Well, enough of abnormal psychology for one night," she said. "I think

I'm going to bed. You all about ready?"

Suzanne opened her eyes and stretched her arms above her head. She had

been resting on the couch.

"I guess I'm ready," she said. "How about you, Yvonne?"

Yvonne looked up from a textbook, removed her glasses, and nodded. She

looked over at Suzanne.

"You don't mind sleeping with us, do you?" she asked. "We have that

king-size bed, and it's big enough for four, really."

Suzanne smiled.

"That's fine. I really appreciate this. I'm feeling much better

already. I'm still a little tender, though, here and there."

Yvonne smirked. "Here and there. You mean your tits and your cunt,

don't you?" Suzanne flushed and Carole laughed.

"Oh, you're such a prude, really," she said. "I can't believe you're

from Grosse Pointe. Almost everyone I've met from there is about as

raunchy as they come. At least with their language. Or maybe I've not

met the right people."

"I'm not a prude," Suzanne said defensively. "It's just that ..."

"We know. We know." Yvonne's voice boomed across the room.

"Incidentally, I've got some real great cream which I think you might

use tonight. It'll ease those scratches and help the healing. It's in

the bedroom. Come on."

Carole turned off the living room lights, and they all went into the

bedroom, where the bed seemed to stretch from wall to wall. Yvonne

rummaged in the dresser drawer and came out with a tube of cream. She

walked over to Suzanne.

"Okay, relax. Let mother do it."

"I can do it myself," said Suzanne, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

"Nonsense; don't tell me you're shy in front of me?" said Yvonne,

chuckling softly. "Go on, strip."

Suzanne undid her robe and let it fall away from her. The other girls

stared, and Carole whistled.

"Oh, wow, look at those tits," she murmured.

"Yeah, they are kinda bruised, aren't they?" said Yvonne softly,

sitting down next to Suzanne and uncapping the tube of cream. "Lie

back, dear. This won't hurt a bit."

"I can do it myself, Yvonne, really," said Suzanne, but she lay back

and watched as Yvonne spread some cream on her fingers and reached

forward, spreading it over her breasts. Suzanne closed her eyes and was

conscious of a rising excitement within her. Yvonne's hands were

incredibly soft, and they spread the cream over each breast, rubbing it

gently around the nipples. Within seconds, Suzanne's nipples were hard

and projecting up from her large round orbs.

"Feel good?" asked Yvonne, and there was subtle change in her voice;

normally rough and raucous, it now held the sensuous overtones of a

tender, compassionate woman.

"Hm ... too good," said Suzanne.

"I know. Relax."

Yvonne continued massaging the cream into Suzanne's breasts. Carole

climbed under the sheets and lay back staring at the others.

"You've sure got lovely breasts, Suzanne," said Carole.

"You've said it," said Yvonne huskily. "Best pair of boobs I've seen in

a long time. Next to you, of course, Carole," she added hastily.

Suzanne was beginning to feel completely relaxed, but conscious of the

growing feeling of sex within her. Despite the experience of the

afternoon, the gentle massage of her bosom was having its effect. She

felt her vagina begin to react and the urge assert itself once more.

"I ... I think you'd better stop," she murmured. "That's fine, thanks,

Yvonne."

"Oh, there's still the rest of you," said Yvonne, her voice unnaturally

forced and gay. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

Before Suzanne could move, Yvonne's hands had slid down to her crotch

and she was massaging a large glob of cream around her vulva, her

fingers slipping into her crack and sending chills through her body.

"That all right?" asked Yvonne softly.

"Yes." Suzanne's voice was low and uncertain. With the growing desire

prompted by the massage of her breasts, she now was experiencing an

almost overpowering urge to have Yvonne touch her clitoris and

masturbate her. The more she resisted the idea, the more she found

herself weakening. Yvonne's fingers probed, touched, titillated her,

rubbing in the cream, and at the same time arousing her to a fever

pitch.

"Yvonne, I ... I think that's enough, thanks," said Suzanne weakly,

raising up, and as she looked down she saw the expression on Yvonne's

face, and a cold chill ran through her. It was quite obvious that

Yvonne was enjoying what she was doing, and from the movements under

the sheet she knew that Carole had her hand in her crotch and was

playing with herself. Yvonne looked at Suzanne and smiled.

"It's never enough," she said. "Ask Carole."

Carole laughed.

"Stop trying to corrupt this child," she said evenly. "Besides, I'm

here."

"Okay, okay," said Yvonne, standing up and capping the tube of cream.

Without another word, she went into the bathroom, and returned a few

moments later, stark naked.

Suzanne looked at her curiously.

"We always sleep raw," said Yvonne perfunctorily, jumping into bed.

"Come on, you can sleep on this side."

Slowly Suzanne crawled under the sheets, her heart beating wildly, and

as the light clicked off, she felt Yvonne's hand creep around her

waist.

"You relax," was the quiet command. "Try and get some sleep now."

Suzanne lay still, aware that her heart was thumping like never before,

and that Yvonne's fingers were soft on her skin. The desire which she

had felt before now asserted itself even more strongly, and she bit her

lip, trying to chase the thought from her mind. She bit her lip again,

harder, till she felt sure she had drawn blood, thinking that she must

think of anything except those soft fingers touching her, titillating

her, feeling her up, oh, God, please, please ...

"What's the matter, Suzanne?"

Only then she realized she must have given a soft cry, and she felt

even more embarrassed and ashamed.

"Is it still hurting down there?"

Yvonne's voice was low and insinuating, and Suzanne felt the woman's

hand creep down and place itself gently between her legs, her fingers

just probing into her vulva and touching her clitoris. Suzanne gave a

moan, and then Carole's voice broke the silence.

"For Chrissake, Yvonne, quit screwing around."

Yvonne's voice was no longer soft, but its usual raucous and commanding

self. "Fuck you, baby."

There was a click and the light went on, and Suzanne blinked to see

Carole sitting up in the bed, her face flushed and her lips pursed

angrily.

"Did you ask Suzanne up here to fuck, or what?"

"Cool it, Carole."

Suzanne struggled up to a sitting position, and her eyes flashed.

"There's something I guess I don't know," she began, but Carole cut her

short.

"Listen, Suzanne, I don't mind Yvonne screwing around, but not in the

same goddamn bed with me. Understand?"

Yvonne giggled, and it was the first time Suzanne had ever heard a

truly feminine response from her.

"Jealous, dear? It's not the first time we've had company and shared

it."

Suzanne's face was scarlet. "Do you mean." Her eyes went from one to

the other.

"Yes, dear, if you must know, Yvonne and I are lovers. What's so

almighty strange about that? Don't tell me you didn't know."

Suzanne shook her head dumbly. Lovers. That meant they were lesbians.

But how was that possible? Yvonne was supposed to be screwing every

good-looking guy on campus.

"I didn't know, and I don't believe you," Suzanne said heatedly.

"Yvonne's got lots of boyfriends."

"Yes, dear, that I do," said Yvonne calmly. "After all, we've all got

to keep up appearances. I'll even shack up once in a while with a man,

but this is where my heart is."

She reached over and embraced Carole. They kissed quickly, and then

Yvonne turned to Suzanne and smiled.

"I could feel something when I was putting the cream on you," she said.

"You'd like a little fun, wouldn't you? Come on, admit it. You're as

horny as ever right now."

Suzanne flushed and bit her lip again. Carole laughed.

"You ever had sex with a girl?" she asked bluntly. "No? I thought not.

Well, I guess today's the day for education. Lay back and enjoy it,

dear. Yvonne taught me everything, and believe me, she knows what she's

doing."

Yvonne reached over and put her hand between Suzanne's legs. "Once you

enjoy it, you'll forget all about those boys," she murmured. "You might

even forget about men, period."

Suzanne felt a shudder pass through her body as Yvonne's fingers probed

her canal, touching her clitoris. No, no, no, this is wrong, she

thought quickly; I mustn't. I mustn't. Yet why not? The gentle

persuasion of those fingers could not be denied. Suzanne closed her

eyes, and then she felt the soft pressure of Yvonne's lips on her own,

and Yvonne's tongue pushed into her mouth. Instinctively she responded,

and she heard Yvonne's breath heavy on her as the woman exhaled deeply,

pulled their bodies together and they kissed with all the passion

possible.

After a moment, they broke apart, and Yvonne smiled at her tenderly.

"See. That didn't hurt a bit, did it? Now you lay back and Carole and

I'll show you what it's all about."

Carole scooted over, her breasts swinging in front of her, and Suzanne

suddenly realized what big tits the girl had. Beautiful big tits, with

upturned nipples that pointed provocatively at her.

Yvonne's mouth closed over hers again, and as they kissed, Suzanne felt

something warm and wet sliding up her leg. She glanced quickly down and

saw Carole's head bobbing between her legs; she was licking her skin,

up and down the inside of her thighs, working slowly up to her bush,

and finally lowering her mouth over it, her tongue probing in, licking

her clitoris and sending sensuous thrills through Suzanne's body as she

had never before dreamed possible. Oh, how wonderful, she thought, how

soft, delicious and wonderful; better than that hard, ugly rod that had

probed her vagina so violently earlier that day. Oh, yes, more, more,

suck it, suck it.

She began twisting her body, writhing in ecstasy. Yvonne's hands were

on her breasts, caressing them, touching her nipples and rubbing her

skin, still moist from the cream. Carole concentrated her attention on

her moist, oozing crack, her tongue licking and pushing in and out

slowly and with infinite tenderness and erotic titillation. Suzanne

began moaning, and her arms went around Yvonne, holding her close and

holding her tightly.

"Oh, yes, yes," she breathed, and then from inside her she felt an urge

that she had known was there, but had never allowed surface, and she

screamed out, "Fuck me, fuck me."

Yvonne pulled away quickly and grinned at her.

"Wow, we've got a little tiger here," she murmured. "What do you know?"

Suzanne pulled Yvonne's head to her own, and kissed her passionately,

running her tongue over the woman's checks and neck. Yvonne shook with

passion, and her hands played over Suzanne's body.

Suzanne felt as if she was floating up off the bed and looking down,

watching this strange drama being played out by a cast of three, two

obviously experienced and the other new to the arena but with a

multitude of hidden desires that were boiling up and taking control,

turning the sweet, innocent little girl into a voracious animal with

fire in her loins that demanded quenching.

Without realizing what she was doing, Suzanne reached down and began

feeling Yvonne's breasts. They were rather small and flat, but they

felt like the most sensuous orbs, capable of arousing her even more;

hungrily Suzanne lowered her lips and took a nipple between her teeth

and bit gently. Yvonne gasped and her fingers dug into Suzanne's flesh

in response, and almost with the same movement she pushed Suzanne over

on the bed, and her tongue went down, licking her flesh. Yvonne swung

around so that her hips were opposite Suzanne's head, and it seemed the

most natural thing in the world as Suzanne's mouth descended on the

dark brown bush between Yvonne's legs, and her fingers pulled the lips

apart and her tongue pushed in, licking and tasting for the first time

the warm wetness within her cunt.

Yvonne and Carole both began exploring Suzanne's crotch. Carole's

fingers held it apart, and they both gazed inside at the hot, soft

flesh oozing with juices of desire. Yvonne's lips rubbed over the

folds, and she took the clitoris between her teeth, the end of her

tongue flicking across it, sending stabs of ecstasy through Suzanne's

body.

Their bodies blended, twisting and turning, crawling over each other,

their fingers and tongues exploring every crack and crevice, receiving

and imparting the most erotic delights that are possible. Suzanne could

scarcely believe herself; only hours before, she had been pinned

beneath a vicious thrusting male, hurting and pleasuring her at the

same time, and making her scream for mercy and relief from the scene.

And here she was, embroiled once more in an orgy of sensual delight.

What did it matter? Who cared? Sex rose up within her, demanding

relief; her lifelong frustrations and continence had driven her over

the edge. For the first time she was indulging without inhibition,

without any reservations. No more the timid little girl masturbating by

herself in the privacy of her room; here she was, naked and aroused,

intertwined with two other bodies, each eager for the ultimate peak of

ecstasy, and not caring how it came, or with whom. And it was with two

girls. Did this mean she was really a lesbian? Suzanne didn't care, and

hardly thought about it. She only knew deep within her that these two

girls would not hurt her the way the boys had - they were being gentle,

tender, yet at the same time violently arousing. With every feather

touch of their tongues, her vagina quivered with increasing delight,

its folds voluptuously reacting to their stimulus. There was nothing

but sweet, lovely sex, a stimulation she never dreamed possible. This

was the way it should have been before; this was the way she bad hoped

it would always be, with Sam, with anyone, who cared? It was sex -

pure, wonderful, cunt-twitching, tit-twisting, lip-sucking sex - and

she was loving every second of it.

Her throat began making little animal sounds of pleasure as she sucked

and licked around Yvonne's crotch. She thrilled to the hardness of the

woman's clitoris between her lips, caressing her with tenderness and

passion. And between her own legs, the others were paying homage to her

sweet, hot little pussy, giving and getting their pleasure from her

innermost erotic feelings.

Suddenly Suzanne knew it couldn't go on much longer; she felt the slow

surge of deep desire, right from her vagina down to the mouth of her

womb, throughout every part of her. Her breasts were quivering, her

thighs twitching, her entire body trembling with the approaching

climax, and then she screamed out, "I'm coming, Jesus God, I'm there,

I'm there. Fuck me, fuck me!" And Yvonne's tongue pushed even harder

into her canal as her insides convulsed and she felt the warm rush of

her juices spewing forth, running down to Yvonne's greedily licking

mouth. Her hands clawed at the body next to hers, clawed at the air,

and she was totally unaware of what she was saying or doing; the

overpowering strength of the orgasm, the most beautiful orgasm she had

ever experienced, took over and drove all else from her mind.

Suzanne felt it lasted forever, and then it was over, and she lay back,

exhausted but immeasurably satisfied and feeling so content she wasn't

quite sure whether she was lying on the bed, or floating on clouds.

She was dimly aware of Carole and Yvonne continuing for a little while,

until they both climaxed, each moaning and thrashing together on the

bed, their bodies blending, their breasts flying and their mouths

covering each other's cunts. Then they lay back, breathing heavily, and

Yvonne kept saying, "Oh, sweet Jesus, I don't believe it, I don't

believe it."

Carole slid off the bed and went to the bathroom. When she returned,

she lit a cigarette and sat up against the headboard, smoking and

staring down at Suzanne with a sly grin on her face.

"You're something else," she commented.

"She is that," said Yvonne, opening her eyes and reaching for Carole's

cigarette. "Gimme a drag." She inhaled deeply, her eyes on Carole, then

she turned and looked at Suzanne. "That was pretty good for an amateur,

baby."

Carole laughed coarsely. "Amateur? Huh!"

Suzanne smiled at them. "That's the first time ever for me," she said

in a small voice. "But ..."

"But it's something you've always wanted to do, is that it?" said

Yvonne.

Suzanne nodded. "And it was so much better than with the boys today."

Carole laughed. "Compliments will get you everywhere."

"No, I mean it," said Suzanne. "With the boys I was scared, and they

hurt me. There was no tenderness. No ..." She paused for a moment. "No

love," she finished shyly.

Yvonne smiled, and patted her on the shoulder.

"You're very sweet, love," she said sincerely, "and I won't deny I've

always wanted us to ball. But in any type of sex, it's the feeling

behind it that counts. I think you've always had a lot of feeling, and

just needed that first time to break the dam, if you'll excuse the

simile."

Carole laughed. "I felt the same way. Yvonne was my first girl."

"And I don't feel bad about it, either," said Suzanne defiantly. "I

mean ..."

"Okay, okay," said Yvonne. "This ain't the time for soul-searching. Or

for a dissertation on sex. It's time for bed. And for sleep. Come on,

I'm bushed."

"Me, too," said Carole, mashing her cigarette in the ashtray.

"You know something?" said Suzanne with a giggle. "I'm ready to go

again."

Yvonne and Carole exchanged looks.

"Dear God, what have we started?" said Yvonne, and she leaned over and

gave Suzanne a playful spank on her rear end.

"You're going to bed and to sleep, young lady," she said in mock

severity. "Tomorrow's another day."

Carole reached for the light switch, and the room plunged into

darkness. There was a rustle as they adjusted themselves under the

covers. Yvonne and Carole lay together, their arms about one another.

Suzanne lay, her back to them, and closed her eyes. Her body was still

glowing, and her vagina felt sensitive and satisfied. The memory of the

boys had faded beneath the knowledge of her recent actions with the

girls; how wonderful it had been, she thought. This means that maybe we

can do it again tomorrow ...

Tomorrow ... what would happen tomorrow? Would those boys come back?

What should she do about it? As she slipped into sleep, she pictured

Clayton's large black cock, its surface shiny and the head oozing as it

was waved in front of her. It hadn't been that bad, she thought; maybe

... She shivered, and was asleep.