The Violated Virgin by Ward Fulton Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The early morning light filtered through the drapes, and in the street

the first sounds of activity could be heard. A friendly shout between

two men echoed up to the room, and Suzanne stirred, opened her eyes and

looked about. At first she felt a stab of uncertainty, then she

realized where she was. Then she remembered what had happened the night

before, and her face went scarlet. She looked over her shoulder and saw

Yvonne and Carole, still asleep, their arms about each other, a look of

beatific contentment on their faces. Oh, God, what have I done, she

thought. How could I possibly have joined them in that orgy of sensual

delight? Suzanne shivered and pulled the sheet up to her neck. Ah, but

it was wonderful, wasn't it? It was the best sex ever. But what about

the boys?

She shivered again, remembering the harshness of the boys' words,

actions and manner; yet there was something primitive and appealing

about it. God, she didn't want to go through that again, but she did

feel that she wouldn't mind having sex again with a man. After all,

that wonderful piece of meat, that lovely long lance that could

pleasure her vagina with such ecstasy. Oh, yes, she wanted that again.

She wondered who it would be with; she hoped it would be Sam, because

she knew Sam's penis was large and long. She had not touched it, but

she had seen it, sticking up out of his pants that night on Belle Isle.

Oh, why didn't she give in and take it then? Sam might not have gone

off to Europe. They might even have been married by now. She knew she

loved him, and he loved her, so why didn't she? She wanted to;

remembering back, she knew she did want to feel it, to take it between

her lips and suck it till his sperm shot out in great gobs into her

mouth, coating her tongue with delicious saltiness before being

swallowed and becoming a part of her. Oh, yes, she had wanted him that

night; she had wanted him many nights, but she could never bring

herself to go through with it. She always remembered those moments when

her mother had said to her, "Suzanne, remember, nice girls don't. Only

cheap little tramps will indulge before marriage." And she had wanted

to ask her mother then whether she hadn't made it with a boy before she

married.

But there was something about Mrs. Delacorte that made Suzanne afraid

of asking anything so intimate. Her mother was very prone to discussing

the intimacies of Grosse Pointe gossip, but something as personal as

sex was taboo. There had been several times when her father had brought

up the subject, often in a joke, and Suzanne felt a warmth; but

inevitably her mother would freeze them both with a cutting remark and

comments about "not being coarse."

Now that she had finally experienced sex, an overwhelming orgy of

sensation, she wondered why and how the whole aura of dirt and

revulsion became attached to the subject. After all, it was a most

enjoyable experience; at least, despite the horror of the attack by the

boys, she knew that the ultimate penetration and orgasm was something

undeniably pleasurable. And with someone tender and loving, as Yvonne

and Carole had been the night before, it was the greatest release, the

highest expression of emotion. Yet why, then, did she still feel such

pangs of remorse, such a feeling of guilt and self-recrimination?

Suzanne looked over towards the two sleeping girls and wondered whether

they felt the same ugly gnawing in their stomachs after indulging in

relations? Obviously not, if they had been living together as lovers.

Yet how could Yvonne also have sex with men? Suzanne had read a

marginal amount of literature on the subject, but she was aware of

Freud's bisexual theories, which must have some basis of fact, judging

from her own reaction the night before and her active participation in

sexplay.

But still, she couldn't help wondering how she was ever able to indulge

with the girls, not merely the act itself but so soon after the

traumatic experience with the boys. It must have been Yvonne's tender

massage of her breasts and her vagina, she knew that was it. Any girl

would react to such a stimulus; yet she knew deep within her that it

was more than that. It were as though a demon had been loosed in her

loins. Held back for so long, she finally felt her inhibitions falling

away. She wanted to indulge, she wanted to enjoy the delights of sex,

to throw herself with complete abandon into the most perverse practices

she could imagine, provided they were pleasant and didn't hurt anyone

and, most of all, there was no violence except in the intensity of the

sexual feeling that quivered in her.

With a sigh, Suzanne pressed her hand to her forehead to ease the ache

that had just begun. There was a movement on the bed and she heard a

low moan.

"Oh, God, it's morning," said Yvonne, her voice sounding like the

rumble of the trucks up and down Woodward Avenue.

"Hi," said Suzanne.

Yvonne reached out a thin arm for the cigarettes on the night stand.

She shook one out of the package and clicked the lighter, inhaling

deeply and leaning back, holding Carole's still sleeping body in one

arm.

"Oh, that's better." Yvonne managed a grin and tapped Suzanne's

shoulder with her forefinger, still holding the cigarette in her hand.

"How's our little violated virgin this morning?"

"Okay, I think."

"That doesn't sound very convincing."

Suzanne shifted in the bed. "Oh, I've just been lying here thinking."

Yvonne heaved under a sudden attack of coughing.

"That can be dangerous, especially at this hour. I guess you've got all

sorts of guilty feelings running around that head of yours, huh?"

Suzanne nodded. "I'm ... a little confused."

"Aren't we all? Let me tell you something." Yvonne took another deep

drag from the cigarette and exhaled slowly. "I won't hand out advice,

but I'll make a few comments. You've gone through a lot in the past two

days. I mean, with sex. I know what happened with those little bastards

must've shaken you to the bottom of your carnal cavern, and last night,

well ..." Yvonne laughed softly. "That's another bag of beans entirely.

But am I right in saying that you've had more sex the last two days

than you've ever had before?"

Suzanne nodded. "I've never had sex before. Ever. Not with anyone. But

... but I've often wanted to."

"Why didn't you? I thought you and Sam were pretty thick there for a

while."

"Well, mother's always told me it wasn't right. I mean, not until after

you're married."

Yvonne snorted loudly. "Yeah, I get the picture."

"I wanted to, but I just couldn't. There was one night, no, there were

lots of nights when we almost did, but right at the last minute I'd

hear mother's voice and I lost interest."

Yvonne nodded. "It sounds like lots of mothers I know. They may have

screwed their asses off when they were teenagers, but they don't want

their daughters to do it. Some sort of moral retribution or whatever.

Hell, I'm disgusted with people like that. Including your mother. I

feel it's better to be open about things than brainwash someone until

they're so full of guilt and misery that they never can enjoy sex, even

after they're married. I know lots of couples like that. I mean,

married, but still have a hang-up which stems from an overly strict

upbringing. Maybe that's why I'm so free about things."

Suzanne frowned and stared at her friend for a moment.

"But how ... I mean, I don't understand how you can say you and Carole

are lovers, and yet you can still go with men. You said last night you

do."

Yvonne nodded. "Yes, I do, sometimes. Like Jeff. I've shacked up with

him a couple of times, but then he's one of the few men in my life that

really turns me on. I mean, he's without a doubt the sexiest guy on

campus. You've got to admit that. And what he does in bed is a whole

chapter out of my diary. Oh, wow, that guy is something else again.

He's got a body that won't quit and a cock that should become a

national monument one of these days. Not that I'm hung up on big cocks,

mind you," Yvonne added hastily. "But Jeff's is about the most

beautiful piece of meat I've ever seen on any man, bar none."

Suzanne giggled. "Is it as big as they say it is?"

Yvonne reached for the ashtray and mashed her cigarette, erupting with

a deep laugh at the same time.

"So you're curious as well? I noticed the way you were watching him in

Verne's the other day. I guess every chick at Wayne would like to know.

Well, I'll tell you, my former vestal virgin. Jeff's cock is long. It's

also rather thick. It has enough foreskin over the end to make drapes

for this entire apartment. His balls could double on the pool table,

and when that whole gorgeous area stands up to attention, I feel like a

dog beside a fireplug; I just want to lift my legs and wrap myself

around it. He really is quite incredible."

Suzanne nodded. "That colored guy Clayton is big."

"They say all colored studs are bigger'n white guys, but let me assure

you, Jeff'd give the whole goddamn NAACP a run for its money. Also, I

guess for me the most important thing about that adorable man's penis

is the fact that it's very white, very smooth. No big veins like some.

Just one big white lollipop waiting to be licked." Yvonne shifted in

the bed and laughed again. "Jeez, I'd better stop this. I'm getting

horny just thinking about him."

Suzanne laughed. "I've often wanted to know Jeff better. I've only said

hello a couple of times. But I know he lays just about any girl he can,

and I felt it wasn't any use, you know trying to know him, because I

wouldn't go to bed with him."

"But that was before, dear," said Yvonne crisply. "And now? Would you

now?"

Suzanne nodded slowly. "Maybe I would. I don't know for sure. I still

love Sam, and he's the one I really want."

Yvonne smiled. "Well, let me tell you something else, then. I love

Carole. She's everything to me. But we've been together long enough to

know that love is based on more than just sex. Which is why I'm able to

shack up with some guy, or like last night, we're both able to have a

little orgy with some other girl, and not let this get in the way of

our feelings for each other. Sex is sex. To me, and to Carole, it's

part of the scene, but not the most important. We can take it or leave

it. We always take it, though, I assure you. And I've always believed

in not having sex with someone just because you might feel like it at

the time. Like with you, I've wanted to ball you ever since we met. But

I got to know you, and I knew there'd be a right time. It's like every

person: there's a right time, a right place, a right individual, and

then everything fits. Everything comes out right, like last night. You

enjoyed it, didn't you?"

Suzanne nodded. "Of course I did. You know that."

"Sure. And maybe we'll ball again. Who knows? And don't you go getting

any romantic notions about me or Carole just because we had a little

pussy for late supper. It was something that was fun; it happened and

it's over."

"You sound so sensible about things," said Suzanne. "I wish I were. I'm

still kinda confused, because ..." She hesitated. "You see, the way I

suddenly became so sexy last night, it sorta scares me, looking back on

it. I mean, now I feel I've done something very wrong. When the boys

attacked me, that was different. They forced me. But last night, I did

it because I wanted to. You understand? I really wanted to do

everything we did, and even while I was doing it, I felt it was wrong,

but I didn't care. Something stronger made me do it. And it was

wonderful. But now I'm wondering: how about what I really feel? Do I

want men? Do I want women? Oh, Yvonne, I feel so terrible."

"Yes, yes, yes." Yvonne reached over and patted Suzanne on the

shoulder. "You're only going through a delayed adolescence. Hell, you

should have been behaving like this five years ago, but then you've got

that mother of yours to thank for that. She should join Billy Graham

instead of organizing tea parties for the Grosse Pointe Ladies' Club.

Anyway, try not to feel guilty. Would you believe lots of girls, and

men, too, will mess around like we did. It doesn't mean you're a dyke.

It just means you let go because you'd been primed right. Jeff even

told me once that he'd had a wild evening with some guys over on Forest

Avenue at some house there. You know that big three-story one near

Lincoln? They call it Homosexual Haven because of all the queens living

there. Well, Jeff says he kinda hung one on over there, but that

doesn't mean he's giving up girls. And what we did last night doesn't

mean you're giving up boys. I'll bet the minute Sam gets back into

town, you'll be rolling into bed with him so fast it'll make your boobs

turn to jelly."

Suzanne laughed. "Yeah, maybe so. Oh, Yvonne, you're so wonderful. I

wish I'd gone to bed with you a year ago. Maybe I wouldn't be so

screwed up right now."

Yvonne pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "I wish we had, too, but

then, like I said, these things always happen at the right time.

Seriously, baby, you do have a problem with those little finks up the

street."

Suzanne felt a stab of terror as the memory returned, and her pleasant

talk with Yvonne suddenly disappeared in a sea of apprehension.

"Oh, dear, I'd almost forgotten."

Yvonne laughed grimly. "Well, let me tell you, they'll probably be

back. They know you're scared out of your wits, and the fact that

they've laid you already only means they think they can do it again. So

remember, don't open your door under any circumstances until you know

who it is. And if for any reason they do get in, scream bloody murder."

"I've been thinking maybe I should move."

"No, that's only running away. It'll have to get pretty hairy before

I'd advise that."

Suzanne pondered a moment. "You know, the sad thing about it is I

didn't think Donald was like that. In fact, I believe he'd be all right

if it weren't for his brother and his influence. Ted's the bad one in

that family. But Donald is a nice boy at heart."

"Nice? He fucked you, too, didn't he?"

"Yes, but ... well, okay, so they all did, and it was pretty horrible,

but at least I noted a different feeling with Donald. I mean, he's

younger. He's got some tenderness in him."

"You mean he had his tenderness in you, don't you?"

"No, come off it. I mean, he's a good kid at heart, but he's been led

astray. That's what I want to find out about this neighborhood, about

the people who live here. Is it because they're bad themselves, which I

don't believe, or is it the poverty, the misery they live in which

makes them that way?"

Yvonne sighed. "Listen, Miss Goodbody, you can't change the world.

You've got to take it as it is. And those characters are all the same.

They start fucking at six and they'd do it if they lived in Grosse

Pointe or the Appalachians, where most of them come from, anyway. No,

dear, there's some who just don't have the inborn reserve about sex

that we expect. So don't waste your time with them. If you want to see

them again, of course, that's a different matter." She giggled. "Maybe

they're good sex. Were they? I mean, how big were their cocks?"

Suzanne flushed. "Stop it."

"No, I won't. Tell me. I mean, I know you don't have much basis for

comparison, but you can tell, can't you? Like this Donald that you seem

to be in a tizzy about. Was he as big as his brother, or the colored

boy?"

"No, he wasn't, but he was big, I'm sure, for his age. Ted was bigger,

and Clayton was really big, and real thick, too."

Yvonne laughed. "Like the three bears, huh? Momma, poppa and baby bear.

Let me ask you something. Suppose they came back, no threats, no

violence, but real nice, calm, reserved, and said how about it? Would

you go to bed with any of them again from choice?"

Suzanne flushed. "I don't ever want to see any of them again," she

said.

"You don't sound very positive about that."

"Well, maybe Donald."

Yvonne's laugh caused Carole's eyes to open, and she murmured, "Shut

your hole, godammit, I'm trying to sleep." Suzanne smiled self-

consciously.

"He is kinda sweet," she murmured. "I like him, too."

"You mean you like him because he's young, sexy, well-built, and has a

big cock. Oh, dear, how typical can we get?"

Yvonne reached for another cigarette, and inhaled deeply.

"I'm willing to bet you do have sex with him again. Maybe with all

three."

"No, never."

"Okay, okay, I was only kidding you. After all, dear, I know you're

still pretty shook up over what happened, and there's no use sitting

around moping about it. So I find it's often better to make a joke of

things."

"Well, that's no joke, believe me."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

Suzanne paused a moment, then giggled wickedly.

"But if Donald comes back alone, and is nice to me, well, who knows?"

"Oh, you little bitch!"

They both broke into loud laughter, and Carole raised up and glared at

them.

"Son-of-a-bitch," she muttered. "Fuck all night and talk all day. Never

a peaceful moment around here, that's for sure." She leaned over and

kissed Yvonne lightly. "Good morning, love," she said warmly.

Suzanne stared at the two girls, and for a moment envied their obvious

closeness, their rapport, the feeling that they shared.

"Good morning, Suzanne," said Carole, putting her hand over and

squeezing her softly. "You okay today?"

Suzanne nodded. Carole swung her legs out of the bed, stood up and

stretched, yawning loudly. "I'll go put the coffee on," she said,

moving towards the kitchen.

Yvonne winked at Suzanne. "Just like a good little wife," she said

coyly. "Come back here for a quickie, Carole."

"Fuck you," came the voice from the kitchen, quite pleasantly.

Yvonne laughed. "You know what a dyke with a hard-on looks like?"

Suzanne shook her head, and Yvonne stuck her tongue out and held it

there, projecting stiffly from her lips. Suzanne laughed, and Carole

put her head round the door.

"That broad's always got a hard-on," she commented.

"With you around, can you blame me?" replied Yvonne casually, slipping

out of bed and reaching for her robe. "Well, I'm going to take a

healthy crap, if you'll excuse my French."

She disappeared into the bathroom, and Suzanne lay back, staring across

the room, and thinking how wonderful it would be to have a close friend

to live with; maybe not for sex, but just for company. She envied

Yvonne and Carole; their life together seemed so secure, so fulfilling.

With a sigh, she sat up on the edge of the bed, put on her robe, and

walked into the kitchen and sat down. Already the percolator had begun

filling the air with a pungent aroma. She felt refreshed and cheerful.

"I have a class at nine," she remarked, looking at the clock, which

pointed to seven-fifteen.

"You mean you want to bug out?" asked Carole, busily washing dishes at

the sink.

"No, I'll have some coffee, and then I'd better get back to my place

and clean up."

"Okay. You can eat here if you like. We've got plenty."

Suzanne shook her head. "No, I'm not hungry. Some coffee'll be fine,

though, thanks."

She stared at the other girl, standing naked at the sink, and admired

her figure, so slender, yet with such full breasts and wide hips,

immeasurably feminine. There was no trace of embarrassment in her

manner; it seemed so natural for her to be without clothes. In the back

of her mind, Suzanne heard her mother's voice, echoing back from years

before ... "A lady never goes around naked. Even your father's never

seen me without something on. I believe in modesty, like every self-

respecting woman."

She smiled to herself. If only her mother could see her now, she

thought.

* * *

The front door closed behind her, and Suzanne locked it with a sigh of

relief. Even though she knew it would be too early for any young man to

have rape on his mind, she was taking no chances. She had had Yvonne

scout the stairway before she left the apartment for her own, and once

inside, the warm comforting glow she experienced with her friends began

to disappear. She was once more alone; once more vulnerable.

Stop it, she whispered to herself, walking into the bathroom and

turning on the hot water faucets in the tub, there's no sense being

ridiculous about it. The door's locked. You're safe. Maybe safe from

physical harm for the moment, but what about her own fears? What about

her own desires? Would she ever be safe from those?

Impatiently Suzanne hung up her robe behind the bathroom door and

reached for her toothbrush. Energetically she attacked her teeth,

scrubbing harder than usual, as if through the act she would help chase

the feeling gnawing at her stomach, aching in her loins. Yes, she

couldn't deny it, coupled with the fright was the deep desire for

something to happen again, something that would help mature her

burgeoning sexuality, help make it blossom to its fullest so she could

no longer think of herself as a girl but as a woman, filled with all

the passionate responses a woman should have, able to handle any

situation where a man (or a woman) was concerned. Yes, it wasn't just

sex with men now; it was sex, plain and not so simple. It was the tiger

let loose in the jungle of her pubic hair.

She turned off the water and eased herself into the tub, letting her

body slide beneath the warm water, savoring the sensual pleasure of the

splashing against her skin, vitalizing her vagina again with erotic

desire and bringing her breasts once more to erection. It was true; as

her fingers rubbed over her magnificent orbs, she felt the nipples firm

beneath her touch. Jeez, had she turned into a raving sex maniac?

She closed her eyes, and with the soap in one hand she slicked her

other and rubbed herself, carefully, sensually. Her fingers massaged

her breasts and nipples, and her mind fled back to Yvonne's soft

caresses the night before. Mentally she felt Yvonne's fingers on her

body, Yvonne's softness exciting her to a fever pitch of desire. Her

groin tingled with the rising tide of sexual arousal, and slowly she

let her fingers slide down, across her stomach, and come to rest in her

bush, pushing her labia open and reaching their final goal.

She felt the electric thrill as her finger touched her clitoris,

already hard and throbbing. She gripped it, caressed it, rubbed the

shaft, pinched it, and her hips began undulating gently. In her mind

she remembered Carole's tongue paying homage to her pussy, bringing her

even greater delights than the hard prick which had cruelly defiled her

earlier. But had it been that cruel? Had Donald really hurt her that

much? He may have scared her, being stronger and holding her down, but

once he had slipped that lovely long cock into her eager pulsating

pussy, had it been that bad? She had to admit honestly it hadn't; she

had loved it. She relished the thought of it cramming deep into her

depths, its thickness pushing aside her cunt-lips, probing her vagina

and sending shivers of excitement up to the mouth of her womb. Deeper

... deeper, Donald ... let me have it all, let me have that rod, all

the way.

Suzanne's fingers were pushing in and out of her wet, warm cavern, the

tantalizing sensations only made greater by the warm water lapping

around her body, licking at her breasts as they almost floated on top

of the surface. Her hips were moving quicker and quicker, making waves

that only stimulated every inch of her skin, making her wish Donald

were there, his tongue licking her all over. Not only Donald, but Ted

and Clayton, all three of them, their hands, tongues and cocks all

dragging over her, pushing into every crevice, bringing her the

greatest delight she was capable of experiencing. Yes, yes, all of

them; all those three wonderful cocks, all together, all pushing into

her. Yes, two cocks up her twat, the third up her asshole. She was

being fucked by them all at the same time. She slid one hand between

her buttocks and pushed a finger into her anus. Oh, Jeez, she couldn't

stand it. The sensations were mounting. Her asshole was on fire. Her

twat was oozing her juices. Her breasts were going to explode. Higher

and higher ... quicker and quicker ... rub that clitoris, up and down,

pinch it, squeeze it ... fuck me, fuck me ... Donald ... deeper. Ted,

quicker. Clayton, give that lovely big black piece of meat to me. All

of it, plunging deep into me. Oh, yes, yes ...

With a strangled cry, Suzanne's body heaved, sending large splashes of

water up the sides of the tub, spilling over onto the floor as she

convulsed and felt her orgasm mounting, shaking her entire body, and

from her mouth came little animal moans of ecstasy.

Slowly the feeling receded, and she lay still, her fingers still

manipulating her flesh slowly, gently as the waves of emotion receded,

becoming still as the waves in the bathtub. She opened her eyes and

stared down at herself. Oh, Christ, that was wonderful. It wasn't just

the physical orgasm; it was the thought that perhaps it might have been

those boys again. Yes, again, again. She wanted then again, loathful,

hateful, hurting; but she wanted them. Oh, God, what was she going to

do? What would she do when they came knocking at her door again, and

something told her they were coming. They would be there, all three of

them, panting, with enormous hard-ons sticking out of their pants,

those lovely shafts of gleaming meat, two white, one black, each

throbbing with anticipation, eager to sink into her unresisting body.

Biting her lip, Suzanne climbed out of the tub and reached for a towel.

As she stood in front of the mirror, she stared at herself, filled with

loathing that she had allowed herself to be so carried away. What was

happening to her? Did all girls go through this when they first found

out about sex? She looked at her body. It was the same as it had been a

week before. There was no difference. Her eyes lifted, taking in her

crotch, her breasts, and then she looked at her face, at the smooth

round cheeks, the slightly upturned nose, the wide, sensual mouth, and

her eyes, staring back at her with a new expression, a new awareness of

her womanhood. And in that glance, she knew she had forever lost her

innocence; her childhood lay buried under a sea of come that spurted

out of a large, jerking penis while she stood beside it, hugging it

with her arms, crying because it was too big to take, and all she could

do was hug it and cry, "Fuck me, fuck me!"

With a shudder, Suzanne walked into the living room and over to the

closet. As she slowly got dressed, she knew it was going to be a

difficult day, yet ten minutes later, as she bounced gaily down the

stairs and out into the sunshine, she smiled to herself and hummed a

tune. Come on, things weren't so bad, really; and what was so wrong

about letting oneself go?

"Hi, Suzanne, how are you today?"

It was her slovenly landlady, calling out from the door of her

apartment.

"Fine, thanks, and you?"

"Oh, I'm okay. Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Sure is."

She ran out the building and up the sidewalk, suddenly realizing she

only had seven minutes to make her class.