Chapter 10
After Linda's departure, Betty wandered thoughtfully in the back garden of her home. It was too sad about Linda. She had withdrawn into herself and seldom sought Betty out. And one had only to look at her to see that her health was suffering, yet she seemed unconcerned about what was happening to her. She was becoming just like the junkies Sam had told them about, the people who spent their whole time lying in a semi-stupor, too lethargic to eat, even to move. Sam was almost one himself. Poor, dear Linda. Betty felt horrified that her friend had so deteriorated. She didn't know exactly why she felt the way she did. It wasn't simply that Linda looked so unhappy except when she was taking heroin; Betty felt there was something degenerate about the whole thing.
Des was the only person who could bring her to her senses; Des, who was too sensible to take more than a very occasional shot of horse. It was only since he'd stopped going around with her that Linda had taken to the stuff with such abandon. In a way you might almost say that Des was responsible. Perhaps if he began to take an interest in her again she would give it up or at least cut it down-but perhaps she'd already gone too far and couldn't.
She turned in the garden and looked back at the house. If only she could make Des go back to Linda. And maybe she could. Perhaps if she saw him and begged him and explained to him, he would see that it was his duty to try and get Linda back on the path or normalcy. But perhaps he wouldn't-and even if he did, unless he were going to marry her, he'd leave her again and then she'd fall back into her present routine. Still, that was looking too far ahead. The thing was to take it a step at a time and the most important step at the moment was to stop Linda ruining herself on drugs.
Slowly she walked back into the house where her mother and father were watching television with blinds drawn against the summer twilight.
"I think I'll go for a walk," she told her mother in a whisper, leaning over the back of her chair.
Her mother's hand touched hers.
"Do you think you'll be late, dear? We'll leave the key if you're not getting back before we've gone to bed."
"No I shan't be very long at all, mummy. I just want a breath of air and a bit of exercise."
"All right, dear."
Her father didn't look up at all until she closed the door, and walking towards the dance hall, Betty pondered on the acceptance that habit bred in people.
Both parents now accepted the fact that she might be in after they had gone to bed and were not unduly worried about it. This was due to the precedent she had created-against their original desires-by going to such a number of fake parties until early in the morning and then getting home all right. They began to be convinced that she was capable of taking care of herself, that there was nothing to worry about, that she was with nice friends. Frequently they asked her about the good time she'd had and she made up tales-always with a twinge of regret, as she really got on very well with her parents-which put them more at ease. They too felt rather sorry for Linda as they knew she didn't get on at all with her mother and that her stepfather was a polite stranger to her.
Poor Linda, Betty thought again. Her mother accepted almost anything from her, but not through trust and love, simply because she couldn't have cared less, frequently didn't even know or care what her daughter was up to. But like all parents who spend half their time not caring, she was inconsistent and would sometimes fly into rages because Linda had not told her where she was going. The stepfather took no apparent interest in Linda at all-except for the one instance when he had in fact taken a supreme interest and forced her to yield her virginity to him. After that, it seemed, fear that the mother might find out, or perhaps, simply lack of further interest, had made his attitude towards her one of cool unconcern.
Betty turned her thoughts on Jim. It was strange that she had never felt about him the way Linda felt about Des. Although not really. She had a background of love and affection; she didn't need to seek out so desperately as Linda. God, if she'd had parents like Linda's she'd probably have drooled over Jim. As it was, she was able to keep him in perspective with the result that.he was more interested in her than she was in him.
She had even lost her curiosity about sex now that she knew what it was like and, although they had intercourse fairly often, she sometimes stood him up on it just so that he wouldn't take it for granted.
Wondering if he'd be with Des tonight, she turned at last into the High Street.
There was the usual muted bustle of activity. The fish-and-chip shops were blindingly alight and noisily crowded, a maze of trams and cars shuttling to and fro. People were pushing up and down the steps of the public lavatory in the island in the middle of the roadway and staring as always into the lighted shop windows.
Betty walked unseeing towards the dance hall, wondering what she would say to Des, how she could succeed in getting him to do something about Linda. By the time she reached the crowded entrance she saw herself clearly as the champion who alone could use her influence to save her lost friend from misery.
There she hesitated. There were so many youths lounging in the foyer-why did they always lounge in the foyer?
She walked past the entrance, afraid that if she lingered by herself they would annoy her, try to pick her up. There had been no sign of Des or Jim.
Slowly she walked back again, peering in as far as she could see. A youth walked out towards her, a conceited grin on his face.
"What-ya doin'? " he asked.
His approach determined Betty. She pushed past him and went up to the man at the turnstile.
"I want to see if someone I know is inside," she said. "I don't want to stay. There's just something I must tell him. Could I just pop in for a minute?"
The man looked her over in mock seriousness.
"I'm sure they won't want to let you out once you've gone in. All right, Miss, don't be long."
Betty pushed through and went quickly down the passage to the big bare hall where the inevitable band was inevitably playing a tired waltz.
She saw Des immediately and breathed a sigh of relief. He was standing with a group of youths. Jim was not among them.
She waved at him from the doorway and for a moment he stared at her uncertainly. Then-when he realized she was alone, it seemed-he waved back cheerily and came around the floor to meet her while the eyes of several companions followed him.
"Well, hi," he called when he was still a few feet from her. "Long time no see. All by yourself?"
"Yes, Des. Look, I wanted to talk to you about something. They've only let me in for a minute to find you. Do you think you could come out for a bit?"
He looked at her doubtfully. He always felt uncomfortable when a woman talked to him earnestly as if she wanted something.
"Well, I'm with some of the boys down here. Why don't you stay? I'll get your ticket."
"No, really Des. I'd rather talk to you away from here. I'll tell you what it's about when we get outside."
Des looked back at the "boys" who were staring along with interest.
"All right." He waved them a nonchalant farewell and strolled out behind Betty. Behind him they raised eyebrows and grinned.
"So that's the way it is with Linda, Des. She'll go out of her mind."
Betty wondered if she'd painted the picture of a degenerating woman a little too vividly for truth. But he deserved it, after all. It was largely his fault.
Desmond's face had taken on all manner of expressions throughout her account and he'd tried to butt in several times. But now he looked thoughtful. It seemed to her that there was even a trace of considered cunning in his eyes as he looked down at her.
"It's none of my business, Betty, you know that. I understand the way you feel. It's only natural as you're her friend. But just think if she'd picked me up and I'd gone willingly, and she'd wanted me to fuck her and I'd done it and then she'd been taking horse and I'd wanted some, and I'd fallen heavily for her and she'd played ball and then changed her mind-how would you feel then? Would you feel so sorry for me that you'd plead with her to start taking an interest in me again?"
"But Des..."
"I'm sorry Betty. I thing you're looking at it the wrong way. You're just emotional about it. It's very understandable, as I said."
Betty stared at him. All this quiet reasonableness and refusal amazed her.
"Des, I can't stand for you not to do anything. Even though you don't care for her, couldn't you just pretend to for a little while until she got back to her old self?"
"Don't be a pain in the neck, Betty. You know how she'll get about me if I do and then it'll be worse than before."
"But Des, she's soon going to become a hopeless addict and then if she can't get the stuff she'll be committing suicide or they might put her in one of those places."
"Look, Betty, I'm very sorry about it, naturally, but I'm not her nursemaid. People should take responsibility for their own lives."
He spoke as if he were quoting something he'd read and remembered because it suited him.
Betty stared at him despairingly. His refusal to help made it all the more desperate that she should influence him to do something. The bit about Linda committing suicide had just come out on the spur of the moment; she'd never thought of it before, but now in her racing mind it seemed eminently possible.
"Des, I'd do absolutely anything for you if you'd only see Linda and take her out a bit."
He looked down at her and there was no doubt about the cunning in his eyes.
"Why should you want to get mixed up in it?"
"Because she's my friend and I-love her, I suppose."
He continued to look at her calculatingly. "Suppose I asked you to love me, then?" he asked.
She gazed at him in astonishment. "But Des, I don't..."
Her voice trailed off as he put his arm around her. She suddenly realized what he meant. He wanted the love of her body. Her mouth opened to speak ... he knew she was still seeing his pal Jim, he knew how she felt about Linda and what she considered to be, or wanted to be Linda's property ... but she saw in his eyes how irrelevant these things were to him and she didn't utter a word.
"And then I'll go and find Linda, and act like I think I've been an idiot to stop seeing her."
Betty drew her eyes away from his which seemed to be hypnotizing her. She didn't dislike Des and the act would be easy except for the feeling of guilt she'd have towards Jim and Linda. In fact the clandestine sensation made her shiver with a little voluptuous pre-taste. And she was doing it for Linda.; there was no reason to feel guilty.
As if he recognized her capitulation, Des added a fresh condition.
"Course there's no reason why you and me shouldn't have a bit of enjoyment anyway. You're not exactly giving me anything-we're both enjoying something. So to make sure I really have a fair bargain for what I'll have to go through, there's something else."
Betty looked back into those eyes gleaming at her, knowing their ascendancy. Her heart began to thump.
"You saw the boys back in the hall. Well I owe 'em some money. Now, in order for me to agree to this little arrangement we might have, you're going to have to pay off the debt for me-you know how. They'll be delighted to take it in kind."
Betty stared at him aghast. Her heart thumped furiously and color flamed to her cheeks.
"You can't be serious!" she flared. "As if I'd behave like a whore just to help you settle your filthy debts. You must be mad!"
"Well, I guess if you really want me to stop Linda doing away with herself you'll do what I say." His voice had taken on an indifferent tone.
Betty's blood boiled. She could have flung herself on him and scratched his face to ribbons. The impudence of his trying to turn her into his prostitute!
Des said nothing and they walked side by side, silently, towards the dance hall.
But her thoughts went back to Linda. Poor, dear Linda. Maybe this was one act of evil which would produce an enormous result of good. She cooled down a little, considering. After all, she hadn't known Jim when she'd first let him have her but that had probably been the pot. Still it was soon over. The only thing was the embarrassment of seeing the boys again. But she need never go to the dance hall after that and they never went anywhere else. Of course, Jim might find out but Linda meant more to her than Jim, much more.
She stopped thinking in words and thought in pictures, pictures of unknown boys screwing her, of Des screwing her. It filled her with a mixture of thrill and loathing. Perhaps this was the way Linda had felt when her stepfather had put his incestuous hands on her.
"Des, wouldn't you just leave it the way it was. Just me and you? The other's too horrible."
Des shrugged his shoulders. He had become completely indifferent. He knew how to judge a situation.
"If you don't want to do it, then it's all off," he said. "Jeez, you don't realize what a bore it'll be for me having to go around with Linda."
Betty felt again the urge to dig her nails in his face. Instead she said: "All right, Des."
He looked down at her with a broad grin of triumph.
"That's the idea," he said. "You're a real pal to Linda."
His eyes flickered over her face and rested on her breasts. They had almost reached the entrance to the dance hall now.
"We can all go up to the park, now," he said.
Betty was going to object. The thought of having them fuck her one after the other was too much. But then she thought that maybe it would be better to get it all over with in one night."
"The park won't be open much longer," she said, "and there are people about."
"Okay, so we'll have to hurry,' he grinned. "We can always avoid the people."
"Des, tell them to follow us up. I can't bear the thought of them looking me over on the way."
"All right. But you mustn't be snooty when it comes to the job or they might insist on having it twice."
Betty looked at him coolly, trying to hide her sudden fear that she was putting herself utterly in Desmond's hands, that he might demand all sorts of things from her on subsequent days.
"Don't worry. I know how it's done," she snapped.
Des chuckled.
"You wait here," he said, "and I'll tell 'em to follow us up."
He left Betty in the foyer and none of the loungers bothered her because they'd seen her with Des.
Inside, Des had gathered his cronies into a little group. There were five of them.
"You saw that chick who came in here and called me?"
The answers were a series of soft whistles and duckings.
"Who wants to screw her?"
There was an electric silence.
"Is she willing, Des?" someone asked him eventually.
"It'll cost you ten bob each," Des said. "I'm going first and I'll be able to tell you how good she is."
"Is she a whore then?" asked a voice.
"No, that's the point. She's not far from a virgin. I know the guy who fucked her for the first time a month or two ago and she's a nice girl, but she owes me money and can't pay. So she said to me just now that she'd screw any of you for ten bob and give me the money to pay off her debt so you can give me the money now."
"And when and where do we try the goods?"
"Well, being a nice girl and never having done this before, she's a bit embarrassed. She wants you to follow me and 'er up to the park. When we get there you can all shove it in her as hard as you like in the dark."
His words had an inflammable effect on the little group.
Hands went to pockets and then somebody said:
"But there might be a few people in the park, Des, and there's old Jim, the parkie. He might try to run us in."
"You afraid of old Jim?" Des asked scornfully. "We'll have to do it standing up. She can bend over a seat or something it's a bit awkward sitting on yer lap. The rest can keep watch around and whistle if anyone's coming, then whoever's in at the time just behaves like they're a necking couple. Necking's not fucking."
There was a cackle of laughter.
"Probably wouldn't hear a whistle," someone said with a chuckle.
"Might be too weak to come out," said another.
"Okay, let's have your ten bob."
All five paid him the money and followed him out with hot pressures already against their flies.
"Just hang back a minute," Des said, "and then follow us up you can stare at her ass on the way, it's pretty nice. You can decide in what order you're going to fuck her in after me and when we get to the park, we'll find a spot and you can keep at a distance and watch for people. If anyone comes, whistle 'Clementine ! ' Everyone who finishes putting his spunk into her can whistle 'Keep the 'Ome Fires Burning' and then the next can take over all right?"
"Okay, all right." There were murmurs of excited agreement.
"See you then," said Des and walked through the corridor to the entrance where Betty was self-consciously waiting for him.
On the way to the park, under the street-lamps, Betty fought against an overwhelming desire to look around to see the gang of youths she could hear following them. They had come out quickly from the dance hall and she'd caught a glimpse of them with their eyes roving all over her lecherousy. Now she knew they woud be staring at her behind and she wished her dress didn't feel so tight. Still the more excited they were the sooner they'd come.
Des walked with his arm around her and one hand over her breast, playing with it. She wished, now, that she could give in and enjoy herself with him, make the best of the inevitable, but the thought of that gang following her and how they were all going to plunge their pricks into her intimate part filled her with a nervous excitement which kept her in a state of tension.
Des lowered his hand to her behind as they walked and she felt it move over the buttocks, exploring, at the same time as she heard the appreciative whistle from behind.
"Can't you wait until we get to the park?"
"You're too exciting, Betty."
She felt his fingers push her dress into the ravine of her buttocks, tightening it round the pert ovals of flesh. She walked on, putting up with him making a little exhibition for the gang, afraid to deny him anything.
When they reached the park he pulled her round to him and kissed her, slipping his tongue in her mouth and pressing hard against her, rubbing his hips against hers, bringing, in the deeper darkness, her first tremor of real response.
The park was fairly large, but also rather formal. There were no wild spots for making love, only places where shrubs and trees gave a greater gloom and, perhaps a seat half surrounded by foliage a short distance from one of the paths along which people exercised their dogs and lovers strolled.
Des slowed down so that the gang behind could catch up a bit and not lose sight of them.
"It's not very secluded," Betty said, apprehensively.
"We'll have to stand up," Des said. "It's best if you lean over one of the seats and I come from behind unless you can think of anything better."
Betty gulped. It always seemed strange to her to be had from behind. But that would mean that the boys would not see her face it would be more impersonal.
"I don't care."
Des looked round to make sure the gang were with them. He saw the vague figures about fifty yards away, vague darker shapes than the rest of the darkness. They walked on along one of the paths and then climbed up a bank and down a rock garden into an ornamental garden where little wooden bridges crossed narrow streams and pools. Here there were leafy arbors more secluded than anywhere else in the park and it was easy to watch for the approach of strangers.
Des led Betty along one of the narrow, gravel paths, waited until the shapes of the gang formed in their wake and then pushed her into an arbor which crept back from the path. There was a seat in the arbor and, a few feet behind it, the rock garden, crowned with large bushes rose into darkness. It was gloomy in the arbor and she could only make out Desmond's face and the glimmer of stars in a distant pool.
"This'll do," Des said with a hoarse note in his voice.
He pulled her onto the seat and his hands began to run wildly, excitedly over her as his lips fastened wetly on her neck, her lips.
It was very quiet. The gang must have split up to take up their watch. Betty could hear Desmond's breathing like an alien animal in the silence of the night. And she heard her own breathing too as his hand slid up under her dress and he strained her against him.
Betty felt her heart jolt up to her throat as his fingers crept under her panties and reached the concealed lips. Her dress was up, way up her thighs and she felt the cool night air. It was the first time she'd been made love to in the open air. It made her feel naked, vulnerable.
Des was breathing like a steam engine. He was trembling and in a hurry as his fingers plunged into her vagina. She started and the members of the gang stationed within short distances of the arbor, heard her intake of breath.
"Take out my prick!" Des ordered.
With fumbling fingers she felt around his loins, met the great, hot bulge and felt over it for the buttons. She found them and began to snap them open one after the other. Her hand advanced inside, into the sudden heat and pulled aside the ends of his shirt.
The prick was thick and sweatingly hot in her fingers and she drew it out into the chill air and ran her fingers up and down it.
Des had unzipped the dress from the armpit down to just below the breast where the zip ended and his furiously searching fingers had unsnapped her bra and closed over the warm, softness of her breasts.
She felt the excitement grow in her. Anyone might come at any moment. As if in answer to the thought and to frustrate the growing excitement, the rollicking notes of "Clementine" came whistling at them through the darkness.
"Fuck!" snapped Des furiously.
He thrust his prick back into his trousers and, whisking Betty's dress down embraced her in the more decorous fashion which was nothing new to the local parks.
Pretending to kiss, they both watched for whoever was coming. If it was old Jim, he'd 'probably shine a torch on them and occasionally a police patrol passed through to enliven their beat.
But instead of old Jim or the police, it was simply a courting couple who wandered along the gravel path, started into the arbor, and then, realizing it was already occupied, swung out again to find somewhere of their own.
They had hardly turned, before Des, his body heaving with emotion, had whipped up her dress again and was mauling her vagina.
After a couple of moments, Betty pulled out his prick again and began to squeeze it tightly.
"Take your panties off," Des whispered hoarsely, "And we'll go round the back of seat."
Betty glanced round, hesitantly into the darkness behind the wooden seat, and Des impatiently reached right up under her crumpled dress and started to pull her panties down over her plumpish little belly.
Betty pushed his hands away and stood up in front of him, pulling her dress up around her waist and pushing down the briefs.
Des couldn't keep his hands off her. They closed on her buttocks, ran between them, felt her belly, curved down to the revealed muff of hair, jabbed between her legs. She could just see the dim outline of his penis cleaving almost luminously out from his loins.
She got her panties down round her thighs, holding onto Desmond's shoulder with one hand. Over her knees and then she lifted one slim leg and pulled it and her high-heeled shoes through the leg space. She released her hold on Des's shoulder and, balancing on the free leg, brought the other up through the panties. Des pulled her at him and kissed her buttocks, her belly, and she felt a sharp sensation run through her hips.
"Give me those," Des said.
He took the briefs from her and stuffed them in his pocket. He let her dress fall and stood up, kissing her, pressing against her so hard that she thought she would fall over. She felt his hot, naked organ clearly through her dress, against her thighs.
"Jeez, I need it bad, Betty," he whispered with a catch in his voice.
She put her hand down and squeezed his sex-arm in reply.
"Come on."
They moved round to the back of the seat. Once they started, there would be a certain urgency in case someone came. Des couldn't face the idea of having to stop, even if he had to rush. He could force Betty into letting him fuck her in comfort some other time. Now he needed the breathtaking relief of plunging his prick into her warm, waiting hole.
At the back of the seat, he kissed her finally and then turned her around. She wasn't quite sure how she should position herself and stood uncertainly, while he pulled up her dress at the back.
"Bend forward, rest yourself on the seat back." He pushed her forward gently and she leaned forward and lowered her head onto her arms on the seat back.
She felt him pulling her legs apart and then his hot prick was between her thighs and pushing up towards her vagina, "Push your hips back," he whispered, and she obliged, so that her body from bottom to head was pushed back at him, forming a horizontal line between his loins and the seat back.
With a groan of pleasure he reached the lips with his knob and sank into the moist, warm passage. Betty straightened with a gasp, but he pulled her back again, drawing her bottom back firmly against his lower belly.
Des grasped the fleshy fold of her hips on either side and thrust his loins at her again and again. Sharp spasms of rending, fluid sensation shot through his penis. He tried to control his breathing, not to make too much noise. He could hear her gasping quietly against the wood of the seat back, trying to smother the audible sounds of her passion in her arms.
Her skirt fell back and hung around his prick, hiding it underneath, so that they looked almost respectable from a distance, except for the extreme suggestiveness of his movement.
He grasped her hips through her dress, unable to see her flesh or his under the concealing folds of the dress, the concealment making the union more sexy in some strange way. There was nothing to see except a normally clothed girl bending forward over a seat. There was just that gorgeous hidden sensation down there below her buttocks, between her legs where his penis was secretly gouging her.
Pushing back against him to avoid being pushed forward over the seat, Betty could feel the smooth cloth of his trousers against her nude thighs. It seemed deliciously obscene to her that he should be clothed, all except for that all-important rod of white flesh which jutted stiffly from the slit his flies made in the garment. She had no contact with him except the hands squeezing hard into her hips, the thighs and the lower portions of her buttocks against that strange cloth and between the two, that solid bounding prick surging into her body, splitting her lips away from each other, forcing between and soaring up inside. She tried to control her excited gasping. Apart from the possibility of anyone coming, she knew the gang were within a short distance and could probably hear every lovemaking noise which was torn from either of them.
Des quickened his strokes, flexing his loins, tightening them inside, concentrating his mind on Betty and her helplessness before him, on the delightful thought of his possessing her, while his senses were devoured in that prick-point between her legs.
The darkness surrounded them, showing vague shapes, the dim form of the leaves with an occasional silver reflection from the pool, and above a lighter, starlit darkness.
Des hurried, tensing, concentrating. God, it was wonderful! She had a wonderful cunt! It held him in nicely and contracted with a gentle squeeze around his prick as he shoved roughly and regularly into her. His penis was heavy with sensation.
He pulled her dress up and held it under his hands around her hips. That way he could look down on the dim, white circle of her bottom, could see it moving back at him, could watch his throbbing prick as it disappeared with strong jerks into the dim cleavage between her cheeks.
He gritted his teeth as he flicked his prick into her and tightened his hands around her hips. Every so often she gasped loudly, as if with pain, but after each gasp she thrust her bottom back at him with renewed vigor.
His penis was heavy, so heavy, too heavy not to suddenly reach its peak and crash over into newfound lightness. He began to mouth vague words of delight. His penis was big, enormous, and he knew that it was going to reach the point, the coming, teeth-gritting point when it would crash over the line.
Down on the level of his loins he could feel the plump flesh of her bottom flattening against him. She was very excited and gasping into her arm.
Listening, trying not to be distracted from their task of watching for strollers, the gang heard an account of the act which was just as descriptive as if they could see through the darkness.
The gasps and rushings of breath which had become audible enabled them to follow the intercourse stroke for stroke until, to their straining ears, Desmond's gasps streamed into a sharp choking cough and they heard Betty give a stifled scream as if from pain.
After a few minutes the nostalgic lilt of "Keep the Home Fires Burning" floated through the dark stillness.
Betty remained in the position in which Des had left her, leaning against the seat back with her dress up around her waist. She had not reached a climax and it had left her excited and frustrated, waiting impatiently, but with considerable embarrassment for the next.
She heard him grope through the darkness and come towards the seat.
"Here round the back," she whispered.
He came around the back of the seat and she didn't even look at him, so acute was her embarrassment for he didn't speak or try to kiss her. He stood behind her and she heard him fumbling with his trousers.
He, in his turn, was fascinated by the fleshy fullness of the bare bottom which trembled and waited in front of him. He was a little afraid of offending this unknown and attractive girl and he didn't kiss her or maul her about. He just stared at her dim, white contours for a few seconds with his heart beating rapidly and his penis shooting up to its fullest extent and then he took it out, took a deep breath and moved in towards her. He, too, was afraid someone would come.
Without looking at the youth, not knowing him or his face, Betty suddenly felt his anonymous hands gripping her waist and the hot length of his strange organ rubbing against her thighs too low down.
She felt one of his hands leave her waist and brush against the insides of her thighs, the abrupt roundings of her lower buttocks, as he searched for the spot. She felt the blunt end of flesh against her anus and then he had moved it down again and drove into her gently as if he were half afraid of what he was doing.
His sigh was one of utter relief as if he'd been waiting all his life for this moment.
It took a second or two for the new stimulant to work and then Betty began to recapture her sharp, needling progress towards climax. But then, when she began to sweat on her upper lip and the desire was like a urinating strain in her vagina, he didn't give her enough, was still gently afraid.
"Harder, harder," Betty begged. "Push in!"
She felt him enter farther, his grip tighten on her waist. He couldn't seem to believe that she wanted him to shock her with his fury, to fuck her as if he meant to kill her. She groaned with the coming explosion. She was suddenly furious at him, through her passion.
"Oh, what's the matter with you!" she spat. "Fuck me! Fuck me like hell!'
Her words seemed to break his reserve and she felt a sudden fierce inrush of thick flesh which speared up against her cervix and robbed her of breath. She gasped and gasped again, hanging onto the back of the seat as if she were on a crazy switchback.
He drew back and rushed savagely in again and she was suddenly on the point and she rammed her behind back against his trousered loins and rotated it in abandon on his prick, uttering cries of mingled pain and ecstasy as his organ chafed her passage and rammed to its end.
She felt the growing explosion. Ready, ready, coming! She rammed her behind back at him and held it there with all her force as the walls of her channel seemed to break, to split and reform, split and reform in a wild, killing pattern of fluid ecstasy.
She half-collapsed over the seat back and his body followed her quickly forward, his hips jerking uncontrollably, afraid of losing their position.
Betty now found herself in a state of semi-exhaustion with her head and torso flopped forward over the seat, her hips crushed against the back, feet almost off the ground, on tiptoe.
Every forward ramming of his hips crushed her hard against the wooden rest and his prick seemed to nose into her as if it would push through her to the seat.
The position was uncomfortable, but it added to the whole savage unreality of the situation, and in her half-swooning state of fulfillment the aches and pains seemed hardly to belong to her at all.
Savagely he thrust into her. Precision had given way to a blind, uneven pattern of searching for fresh, excruciating angles of entry, of long strokes, short strokes, quick strokes, slow strokes. Now he pulled her back at him and held his penis hard in to its extremity for some seconds, giving out a whine of breath, now he rushed in and out rapidly with little accompanying grunts.
She felt his snuffling in to her, gasping with passion, shuffling in with his feet and his hips as if he, now, couldn't get it in far enough. He seemed to want to stretch her cunt, to protrude it farther towards him so that his penis would descend deeper into its ever more stimulating depths.
He pushed her forward slightly and she felt herself losing balance. Her head and top half from the waist fell forward over the seat and she put down her hands to hold herself up, placing them on the seat base. She felt herself falling farther and squealed a warning and then his hands moved onto the tops of her thighs and pushed them against the back of the seat, using them as a lever to keep her in her stretched, upended, uncomfortable position.
Thus her cunt was pushed out to him, her hips resting on the top bar of the seat, her buttocks pushing upwards in hillocks.
He pulled her thighs wide, still holding them hard against the seat to prevent her sliding over completely. She felt stretched and open as if she were all vagina. It had never been so stretched and exposed.
Then he dug deeply into her again and it seemed to penetrate farther than ever before and made her cry out in spite of her efforts to be silent.
It didn't seem to matter to him that she cried out. He dug in again and again until she felt she couldn't stand it and the blood was running to her head, and the seat back was cutting in a ridge across her hips. And then she felt him quicken and slow and give one final lunge which sent fresh spasms of pain up into her belly, pain which was lost in his excruciating groan of fulfillment. He gave another lunge and another and it was only her knowledge that it was all but finished which stopped her from fighting against him.
Forgetting her when it was over, he let go of her thighs and she half fell, half slithered over onto the seat. He seemed to collapse against the seat back and leaned, panting, his head on his hands, his penis hanging, small, limp and dripping from his trousers.
After a few moments she straightened her dress and climbed up off the seat. He had hurt her. Her vagina was slightly sore and there were pains in her belly. She felt she couldn't face anymore. She took a few deep breaths and then she heard the youth rustling about and stared round to where he was buttoning himself up in the darkness.
He didn't say a word to her, nor she to him and in a second the familiar tune was whistling up from behind the seat and he had brushed past her and his shadow had receded from view.
Betty took out a handkerchief and wiped the sperm which was running down her legs. Four more to go. She suddenly felt less noble about Linda but it became almost a question of fear overcoming her desire to creep off into the sheltering darkness. They would find her and be the more brutal for her attempt to escape their aroused lust.
She stood perfectly still, listening, and she heard the footsteps approach and saw him loom up, anonymous, pull her at him and devour her mouth.
This one pushed her down on the seat and she relaxed, sinking onto it, relieving the ache of her back.
He wanted more than the quick act. He'd seen her breasts as she and Des left the dance hall and now he slipped his hand into the slit of her dress left by the still open zipper and moved it under the disarranged brassiere. He was breathing fast. The very contact of his hand with that large springy, hard-crowned mound of flesh excited him so that she heard his hips shuffling on the seat beside her. He kissed her and wormed his tongue into her mouth, biting her lips.
Through her dress she felt the seat, hard and cold against her hot flesh. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to contain and ease the pain in her vagina.
Soon his hand wandered away from her breasts, down to her knee and began a slow ascent up her thigh, tickling the glossy flesh of the inside until it reached the point where her pubic hair infiltrated in a downy vanguard from the surrounding exterior of her vagina.
She felt nothing; no emotion, no sensation. He was like so much putty. She let his hands go where they wanted to, let him do what he wanted and soon he'd pushed her down on the seat, opened her legs and wriggled between them on the narrow seat. There was a shock of pain as he entered her to the hilt. Her vagina had grown dry and he chafed her as he rubbed in and in.
He put his hands under her buttocks, lifting her hips up towards his prick. His hands were warm against her flesh where the cold seat had been and she let her head fall back under the arm rail of the seat.
She heard and experienced everything very clearly, as if she were a detached person, watching except for the pain.
His breathing seemed ridiculous, incongruous in the still night. His passion, compared with her lack of feeling, was grotesque.
She could feel his prick very clearly, very separately in the dryness of her channel. His hands clamped her buttocks in sharp squeezing motions on the in-thrust and his knees scraped against the seat as he pushed into her.
For a time she watched his face above her he couldn't reach her lips as her face was cut off by the arm rail twisted with passion, continually changing in expression as he groaned and moaned quietly. Every so often he hurt her with a sharp searing pain as he rammed right up into her and she winced and closed her eyes. Eventually she closed them all the time.
She heard the warning whistle, but he went on screwing her, gasping away.
"They oh they whistled ah!" she warned him between gasps of pain.
"Fuck them!" he gritted between his teeth.
She closed her eyes again. If he didn't care, she couldn't care less. It was too unreal and there were three more to come.
Through his breathing she heard the footsteps and, opening her eyes, stared out of the arbor to where the lighter darkness of the sky threw a dim light on the path.
She saw the couple reach the arbor. The youth on her either didn't see or didn't care. He was breathing quickly and furiously, reaching his climax.
The two shadows stopped, stared into the arbor and waited, listening.
She could see them dimly and she watched them quite dispassionately. They were obviously a courting couple. She saw them bend, trying to peer at the seat from which they could hear the strange noises issuing.
She actually heard the man whisper something to the girl. She heard them because she could see them and could distinguish different sounds beyond his breathing. The girl giggled that was clear too. They had realized what was happening.
Undulating on her, the youth took no notice. His prick seemed one solid weight that never left her passage. She was not aware of comings and goings, only of the continuous solidity of it. Her dress was up around her waist, her thighs on view. She knew that as their eyes became accustomed to the gloom, the couple peering in from outside would be able to make out the white of her thighs, the approximate shape of their molded bodies just as she could now dimly make out their faces.
They stood as if fascinated and then she heard the giggle again. They didn't seem embarrassed to be listening and trying to watch so near. Perhaps the scene impassioned them, simmering their latent lust.
His penis was no longer tearing at the skin of her passage. He must be near his climax. The preliminary seminal fluid would be moistening her before he shattered his lust into her body.
She gave a gasp of pain, still, every so often and when her screwed-up eyes opened again she would see the couple outside bending still lower trying to gain all they could from the act they could hardly see.
"Oh God! Oh God!" her ravisher uttered suddenly. She felt him stiffen against her, the weight of his hips and thighs crushing her pelvis and then a long, moaning rush of breath shot from him and she knew that his sperm had inundated her protesting vagina.
When she looked back beyond him as he collapsed on her, resting his head on the arm rail above her, the couple had begun to move on, giggling. She saw the man stoop to kiss the girl just before they moved from sight. She wondered if they would find a quiet spot to emulate what they had just heard and half seen.
After a few minutes, the youth got up and left her, forgetting to whistle in his empty exhaustion.
She lay still. She didn't know how long it was before the next shadow was with her, finding her just as the previous one had left her. Hands on her buttocks, lips trying to find hers under the arm rail, prick in her cunt, movement inwards, outwards, breathing, gasping on and on until it seemed to her there would never be an end. Each seemed less real than the previous one; each time she felt less, was aware only vaguely of the violent activity around her, in her, for which she was the cause, the source.
At last, somebody came out of her, leaving her, this time, hanging once more over the back of the seat with her naked buttocks, whitely protruding towards the bushes and the rock garden behind.
Her vagina was hot and aching; the pains still in her belly. She clung to the seat, un-moving until she felt a hand on her arm and a voice which she recognized as Desmond's saying:
"Come on Betty. What's the matter with you? The boys are very pleased."
She let him lead her away from the seat back and sat on the seat. After a while she put on the panties he held out to her. Then she sat still again, numbly.
Des looked at her. His well-being from his fulfillment and the money in his pocket dissipated very slightly at her obvious distress. He didn't see why she should feel that way.
"Come on," he said at last. "I'll buy you a coffee espresso. The park'll be closing down in a minute."
She allowed him to lead her away. The pain in her vagina made walking difficult.