Chapter 3
She was stroking her hair again. Goddamn it, why did she have to do that so fucking often? Why did she even have to have hair like that, full and flowing and glossy-black, some of it hanging down her back, the rest falling toward her high round tits? She was smoking another cigarette. That was unusual. It hadn't been five minutes since the last one. As she puffed, he caught a glint of white light, shining on the slick, wet-looking red stuff she wore on her lips. Wide, neat lips, not too thick, not too thin, a little over three-quarters of an inch from the underside of her nose. Matt wondered how those lips would look, shaped into an oval, making room for a hard, thick pecker to thrust into her mouth.
Oh, my God, he thought, that's the sickest idea I've had yet! His stomach gave a warning twinge and he despised himself. If only, he thought, if only I'd stayed with the guys the other night-drank some more beer, talked a little more trash-instead of coming home and walking in on that -scene in the living room. He blinked, and in the split second his eyelids were shut, they .were like a projection screen, playing and replaying the picture he had seen. Not even last evening's delight with Susie could remove the memory from his mind, could erase the lingering ideas and speculations that seemed to boil inside his brain.
He needed more distraction. His hand moved toward the radio dial. Something loud and heavy, he thought. Maybe there was some hard-rock station on the FM band. Diana's fingers touched his and he felt as if he were freezing. His hand fell away from the radio. "Listen," she said. He listened. The one o'clock news. He caught the drift, and it held his attention.
"Just before closing time, at noon, the first national bank in Lancaster was robbed at gunpoint by three masked bandits. The robbers are believed to have netted a sum approaching fifty thousand dollars. Police have set up roadblocks and hope to make arrests as soon as possible. No descriptions of the robbers are available at this time, but one of the trio is believed to have been a woman."
Diana shook her head. "I thought bank robbers went out with the Model T," she sighed. "Oh, my, we're almost to Lancaster too. You'd better be watching out for those roadblocks, darling. And, oh, would you look. at the sky, there, toward Columbus! Doesn't that look like the cutest collection of rain clouds you ever saw? I'll probably have to drive home through a deluge." She puffed on her cigarette and, just as she exhaled, rain drops began to splatter on the windshield. Matt flipped on the wipers, and he didn't look any longer than necessary at his mother's parted thighs, open and-inviting?-in her tight jeans. God!
But at least the back and forth of the wipers had a distracting effect. He could follow that with his eyes, feel less tempted to look away, to think and wonder and speculate, and he found a comfort in it. His body began to grow more calm and he was scarcely aware of his mother's perfume, let alone of her presence on the seat beside him. The rain grew heavier and he found himself listening to the slap-slap-slap of the tires on wet asphalt. I haven't, he reminded himself, had any of those sick thoughts for the last five or ten minutes, at least. It seemed a kind of triumph, but it vanished in a twinkling.
Diana put her hand on Matt's thigh, squeezed to get his attention. "I said," she repeated, "why don't we pull off and see if we can find a restaurant? I'm starting to get a little hungry."
Matt looked at her, at the crescent-shaped, glossy smile so red and inviting on her pale face, and he felt drool forming in his mouth. "So am I," he said huskily.
They took the next exit from the four-lane highway, pulling off into a small town a few miles south of Lancaster. So far they'd not run into any roadblocks. Probably when they started north again. "Here," Diana said, pointing to a diner which resembled an old streetcar. "Let's stop here. " Matt grimaced. "It looks really gross," he said.
There was a McDonald's, the golden arches visible, several hundred yards down the street.
"Here," his mother repeated. "The food may not be as fast, but at least it's food."
When they left the diner later, .rain was pouring down by the bucketful. They had to run for the Chevy. "Cats and dogs," Diana sighed, piling into the car. Her sleeveless top had gotten wet during the mad dash to the car, and it was really clinging to her smooth tits now, clinging like a layer of wet flesh.
From the diner, it was three miles back to the Interstate highway, and Matt drove slowly, carefully, in the heavy rain. The wipers swished back and forth across the windshield, moving rhythmically and gracefully, and he didn't even see the girl. "Oh, my God," he heard his mother say, "look at that poor thing!"
Matt slowed a little, and he saw her, perhaps thirty yards farther, standing beside a heavy rhododendron bush that wasn't tall enough to shelter her from the elements. She was tall and slender, wearing a denim coverall suit, with her thumb stuck out in pitiful despair. One arm shielded her forehead, trying to keep the rain out of her eyes, but she was blinking and apparently the gesture was not working.
"Aren't you going to stop?" Diana asked. "If I ever saw anyone who needed a lift... "
"I thought you didn't believe in picking up hitchhikers," Matt replied, pushing the brake. The girl was very pretty-or she would be, if she weren't so wet and bedraggled-looking.
The Chevy slid to a stop, moving off the road just short of the girl by the rhododendron. Her face brightened and she ran toward the car. Matt rolled down his window as she came up beside him.
"Hey, thanks," she said, leaning close. Her breath was sweet and her teeth were very pretty. Vivid green eyes, too, Matt noticed. She looked as if she might be in her early twenties.
"I really need a lift," she added, and he could see partway into the top of her coverall outfit. It had a zipper front and it wasn't . zipped up completely, and Matt was eyeing what appeared to be very nice tits, a little whiter than the girl's tanned face. There were droplets of water running into her cleavage. He couldn't see a bra and, though he looked, he couldn't quite see her nipples either. She had blonde hair.
The girl was still smiling and Matt Flaherty still looking-no more than twenty seconds could have passed, he was certain, when there was a sound at the. other side of the front seat. Matt's head spun around, just in time to see the door being jerked open. A man leaned into the car, a big revolver in his hand. Diana screamed, but the sound was very short-lived. The man grabbed her by the chin, forced her head around, and stuck the barrel of his gun into her open mouth. "One false move and I blow your lady friend's head off," he said.
"Oh my god," Matt gasped, and something cold tapped the back of his neck. He looked around and the blonde girl was holding a pistol, too, a black automatic.
"Get her into the back seat," the girl commanded. "I'll ride up front, just in case our young friend gets any heroic ideas."
Everything was happening so swiftly! Matt's head kept turning from side to side and he felt the world spinning around him. There were two men on the passenger side of the car now, both of them carrying guns, and they were dragging Diana out into the rain, shoving her into the back seat, crawling in after her. He could hear her making little chirpy noises of fright and, in his mind's eye, he kept seeing her with that gun barrel thrust into her mouth, just like a slender blue-steel cock invading the red-lipped opening.
The blonde girl went around the car and took the seat Diana had just occupied. She slammed the door, pointed her gun at Matt and said, "Drive."
He put the car into gear and it lurched forward.
The men, he thought. They must have been behind the bush, using the girl as a front. But who were they? What did they want? What was going on?
"Stop here," the girl said. Matt stopped. The gun poked his ribs and he didn't dare resist. A car was parked by the road, two of its wheels sunk in a muddy ditch. They couldn't have driven more than twenty or thirty yards from where they'd been assaulted. The girl jumped out, ran to the car, delved in the back. She came back carrying three large bags. She got into Matt's car, threw the bags into the back, where her two companions were holding Diana. Matt caught a flash of one bag as she tossed it. It was marked in heavy black stencil lettering, FIRST NA TL BANK, LANCASTER.
"You're the bank robbers," he said, suddenly getting it.
"Came the dawn," the girl said. She had a deep alto voice that seemed to come from the middle of her throat. It would have been a pleasant voice if she hadn't been holding the gun, if her two friends hadn't been in the back with Ma, if... if... "Well," she added, "get moving. Take the southbound ramp."
"We're going north," Matt protested. The girl shook her head and touched his chin with the flat end of her pistol. He took the southbound ramp and, in a few moments, the Chevy was heading back the way it had come.
"Please, no; stop," Diana said. She was between them on the seat. One of them had put down his gun, started to caress her tits through the soaked polyester top she was wearing. The other sat watching, gun in his hand.
"Feel these," the one said, squeezing her tits till she groaned. He let go and his friend took over.
"Damn," the other one concurred. "There are tits, and tits, but these are fucking TITS!"
Matt shivered. He looked into the rearview mirror, saw the hideous scene in progress. The men taking turns playing with his mother's boobs while she sat ashy-faced between them, her lips mumbling feeble, futile protestations.
"Keep your eyes on the road," the blonde girl said. She moved a little closer. "What's wrong?" she asked. "You jealous? They won't hurt-your chick. She's built like a brick shithouse, though, and you can't expect a guy to keep his hands off something like that." Her thigh brushed his. Matt squirmed, and his foot did a little tap dance on the gas pedal. In the back seat, his mother was still making those whimpering sounds, and he was afraid to look in the mirror and see what was happening to her now.
"She's not my chick," he said in a thin, tense voice. "It's my mother."
"Your mother?" the girl said. Her eyes got big.
They were lovely eyes, and right now they seemed very innocent, despite the pistol in her hand. She shook her head. "Jeez."
She turned, leaning over the back of the seat.
"Hey, you assholes," she said, "would ya knock it off? It's the kid's mother and he's getting all upset."
Diana groaned as the men released her tits. She leaned forward, hiding her face in her palms, curling her body into a defensive ball.
"That's better isn't it?" the girl told Matt. She rubbed her thigh on his. "How old was she when she had you, anyway? About eleven?"
Matt didn't answer. He slid away from the girl, thinking as he did that, normally, she was the kind of girl he'd have been instantly attracted to, and here he was, avoiding her very touch.
"You're not very friendly," the girl said. She put her hand on Matt's shoulder. He felt the muzzle of her gun bump his heck, and he was terrified that she might accidentally pull the trigger.
Something damp and warm touched his ear. He made a sound of protest before he realized that he was being licked. She blew on the spot she'd wettened, and Matt felt as if his guts were full of squishy, crawling worms. She blew into his ear again, and her other hand came to rest on his thigh. "You're cute," she said. "Anybody ever tell you that?"
He didn't answer. "Hmmmmpphhh," the girl said. Her fingers danced up his thigh and across his crotch. Matt almost lost his grip on the wheel. "Watch it, you sonovabitch!" she said, nudging the back of his head with her pistol. "Don't you have any self-control?"
"Well, what the hell do you expect?" he said, suddenly filling with courage. "I mean, I stop to give you a ride because it's raining and you look like a drowned rat, and all of a sudden there are three of you and you've got guns and there I am, driving the goddamn getaway car, and your buddies are doing all kinds of rotten stuff to my mother and you 're-"
"Cool it," the girl said, nudging the barrel of the gun against the side of his head. "This hasn't been a good day for us either. That shit back there," and she jerked her thumb at one of the men in the back seat, "ran the car into a fucking ditch, just when we were all clear and on our way." Her hand closed on Matt's crotch and she gave him a vicious pinching squeeze. "So, if I wanna put my hand in your lap, kid, you remember-I'm the one with the gun. My God, you've got a big one!"
Matt went scarlet. She was fondling him as she talked, and his pecker was getting hard, very hard, despite the danger of his situation. Her hand flexed on him again, and he was almost as stiff as he'd been in the restaurant. His balls began to ache as his penis filled up. "Don't," he said weakly. "Please. " In the back seat, Diana felt herself being lifted up. "No," she told the man who was pulling her up. "Don't. Don't touch me."
One of the men caught the hem of her sleeveless top, jerked it upward. Diana tried to cover herself as he pulled the garment up past her bra, but it was too late. The other man had her arm under control and he pulled on it, almost wrenching it from the socket. The man who had lifted her top sat beside her, his eyes glittering as he gazed at the well-filled cups of her bra. It was her skin-tone beige bra, about as opaque as a pane of glass, and her berry nipples were rigid from terror already. They seemed to stiffen even more as the man's eyes feasted on the sight of them.
He watched her for a moment, his stare going from tit to tit, and then he began to stroke her, using only the nails of his index fingers, rubbing each of them back and forth across a nipple's big protuberance. Diana shivered and she was positive that she was on the verge of passing out. Her head felt cold, as if all the blood had drained from it, and there were a million butterflies in her stomach.
"Make them stop," Matt told the girl, but she wasn't listening. She leaned against him, fist full of the big cock grown to full erection in his pants, and she was blowing in his ear again.
"Just keep driving," she said. "I'll tell you where to turn off."
The man leaned toward Diana. His tongue came out and flicked across one of the nipples he'd been fingering. Diana made a whimpering cry and she jerked back, right into the grasp of the man who flanked her from the other side. He got both her arms, pinned them, held her in place.
They were young, all three of them, she told herself, trying to think about anything except what was happening to her. The girl looked about twenty or twenty-one, the men not much older. Except for the guns they were normal looking people. The girl was rather pretty, or would be, if her hair were dried and combed, and the men would not, if she'd passed them on the street, have seemed unusual in the least. Longish hair, one of them reddish-brunette, the other a sandy brown, their faces tanned and average-looking. But they weren't average people. They were bank robbers, desperate criminals. Diana's foot touched one of the bags the girl had thrown into the back of the car, and she could heat the crinkle of currency inside it. That bag, and the two others on the floor, were full of stolen money. Fifty thousand dollars, the radio had said.
Oh, my God, Diana thought, ten minutes ago we were on our way to Matt's camp. We were normal, everyday people, doing normal everyday things. We stopped to help and now we're prisoners, in our own car, held at gunpoint, being subjected to...
The man bit the end of her titty and she gave a weak scream. His teeth dug in more sharply and she squirmed, but all that the squirming accomplished was to make his teeth rotate on her heavy round tit. Her nipple throbbed like a drum and she knew she was on the very brink of fainting. He covered her other breast with his hand, pinching off the nipple between two stubby, hard fingers, and she tried to make herself faint, but it didn't work.
Diana noticed the blonde girl was nuzzling Matt.
Oh, God, that was even more disgusting! She'd heard enough, guessed enough, to know that the girl was doing something to her son. She'd heard the girl say, "My God, you've got a big one!" What was she talking about? Diana couldn't see where the girl's hand .was, but she could guess. And the thought made her sick.
"Lean her back," one of the men said, and she was dragged abruptly back to her own reality. She was being stretched out, laid across one man's lap, her quivering tits thrust upward in their beige, see-through bra. She saw the glint of a knife blade and her eyes rolled in their sockets. Cold steel touched her flesh-they were going to kill her.
No. With one quick flip, the man sliced the center strip of Diane's bra and the taut cups sprang free, loosing her jiggly tits. Her face went crimson as the man took her bared tits in hand and began to knead them like lumps of bread dough. "For the love of God," she moaned, "for the love of God."
The blonde girl was almost lying on Matt. She had him hard as a rock and her thigh kept slipping over his, heel rubbing up and down the inside of his calf, and it was all he could do to keep the car on the road. The zipper tab of her coverall had slid down a little farther and, if he looked in that direction, he could see a lot more of the girl's cleavage, could see where the flesh grew whiter, a telltale sign of bikini tan-could see everything but her goddamn tit itself, jumping out at him. And she kept laughing, as if it were the funniest fucking thing she could imagine, to be playing with him while he tried to drive, to have his mother in the back, with God knew what being done to her.
Matt stole a peek at the rearview mirror and he almost ran into the stripe between northbound and southbound. Jesus fucking Christ! They had Mom stretched out on the seat, with her shirt pulled up and her bra tom in half and one of the guys was sucking her tits like a hungry baby while she lay there all pale-faced, big tears glistening in her eyes.
I ought to do it, he thought, squirming while the blonde tickled his dick. I ought to smash us up, just turn this car upside down about forty-five times, kill the fuck out of all of us. That would teach these weirdoes a lesson!
But who would be left to appreciate it? Oh, shit, he thought then, his fingers flexing on the wheel. The blonde's pistol was still rubbing the back of his neck, and he was afraid to move. She kept fiddling with his prick, and it was hard as steel, but his bladder was full of fright-piss and he was so stiff that, even if he could get out and try, he still couldn't empty the water that was clogging up his body. Oh, Jesus, how did we get into this? he kept asking himself. How in the goddamned hell?
"Take the next exit," the girl purred. Her tongue skated into his ear, traced the loops and whirls, and she blew on him again. Her boobs were rubbing him from the side, and, Christ, what tits they were! Not as big as Ma's, but a lot bigger and rounder than Susie Cooper's cute, tiny apples, and he could feel body heat radiating from her, coming through the denim of her coverall suit, warming him where their bodies touched.
Matt signaled and eased the car into the off-ramp, hoping this would all be over soon. Please, he thought. Soon. The blonde girl tightened her fingers on his cock. At the same moment she clamped her teeth on his earlobe and he felt a twitching in his balls.
"Oh, hell," he moaned despairingly. His cock shivered in his pants and suddenly his shorts were full of spurting cum.
He began to jerk behind the wheel, jerk and shiver and groan and moan, and his dick kept squirting and squirting and squirting while the blonde girl laughed and leaned even closer against him. Her fingers kept up their insistent squeezing and he kept on shooting his seed, wasting it in his pants.
There was a stop sign at the end of the off ramp.
He saw it coming, but he was coming too, and his foot refused to move onto the brake.
"Ohhhh, hot damn!" the blonde giggled into his ear, loud as thunder.
Even louder, he heard the sound of a horn blaring, blaring, the squeal of someone else's brakes. "Hang a left," the blonde cheered, and Matt whirled the steering wheel to the left. He was aware of the car that had almost smashed them broadside, had stopped just short of a deadly collision, but he couldn't worry, not as the Flaherty's Chevy sped on, in the direction he'd been told to take.
In his pants, his cock gave one final convulsive shudder and went soft. He could feel cum beginning to ooze down his leg, sticky and clammy against his flesh, and the girl's hand lay in his lap, soft and gentle now that she'd finished molesting him. He felt, rather than heard her sigh where she leaned against his shoulder, and he sighed, too; How much longer would this go on? he asked himself. And, God, when this stopped, what would take its place? He was frightened terribly now, and he had to piss so badly.