Chapter 4
Maureen, the girl who tended the shop with Ginger in the afternoon, was already there when Ginger returned a short while later. She entered the shop breathless, for she had hurried to get back.
"Where have you been?" Maureen asked her. "You look as if you've been running."
"I was rushing to get back here," Ginger replied, avoiding Maureen's plainly inquisitive glances. Ginger did not think much of
Maureen. She felt her to be much too prim and modest. She was cut out to be a chilling old maid, who in later years might be seen walking the streets in tight, completely buttoned suits of some bland gray material with condemning looks on her wizened and forever puritan face. Maureen hated her, really.
"Well, where had you been? You were late. I was shocked to find you absent. You're usually so punctual."
It was so like Maureen to be utterly and disgustingly precise in her use of language, thought Ginger to herself, smoldering under this encroachment on her freedom. Ginger felt like smacking her from here to Mars. But instead she said archly, "I've been out fucking, if it's any of your business."
"Well, I never!" Maureen exclaimed, outraged and Ginger didn't doubt it.
It was torture enduring the next couple of hours till the shop closed.
But finally the hour of five rolled around, and Ginger locked the shop door behind herself and said a perfunctory goodbye to Maureen and started on the way to the subway station.
She was feeling sultry and bitchy. "I need a lay if I'm gonna be able to endure life till I get back home." She eyed the men who walked alongside her on the sidewalk. Some of them looked back, plainly admiring her. She liked to be sized up like that by inquisitive and searching male eyes. It never failed to make her hot and ready to spread out her smooth legs screaming for someone to fuck her. "I have such a hungry bitch of a cunt," she thought to herself. "Always looking for a lay. It's so goddam indiscriminate. But so what. That's probably good, since it leads you to find out a lot of things."
Waiting for a red light to turn green at one of the corners, her attention was caught by a rather well-dressed and fairly good-looking stud standing next to her. She gazed at him with great persistence, giving him the most enticing, beckoning look she could muster. He returned her stare, but seemed rather offended by the directness and brazenness of Ginger's eyes. In a moment he looked away, saying nothing, and giving the impression, to Ginger at least, that she was contemptible, and utterly beneath him.
This fired Ginger up no end.
"What kind of stud are you anyway?" she asked him just as the light changed.
The man said nothing, and didn't even look at Ginger.
"I've never met a member of the castrati before," Ginger called out to him tauntingly, as she crossed the street to get away from him. She was thoroughly enraged. The world was in bad straits because of people like Maureen and this stuck-up idiot she had just dismembered.
Just that moment a rubber ball rolled across the sidewalk in front of her. Ginger hurried to retrieve it, and in the same instant that she had grasped it in her hand a small boy dressed in jeans and a striped T-shirt rushed up to her.
"Can I have the ball, lady?" He said in a squeaky voice. "It's mine."
Just then an obscene thought raced through Ginger's mind, firing her up to a dangerous pitch of excitement. Ginger laughed inwardly. Wouldn't this be a grand way to make sure that at least this little boy wouldn't grow up to be a tight-assed adult. What a grand way to aid in making foreign relations of the future a freer, more exploratory enterprise than to let it remain the stiff and formal institution which it now was. Get at future diplomats while they were young. That was the idea! Strong stuff! And a good way to get rid of all the sexual tension that was building up inside of her at the same time.
Ginger had never had intercourse with a child before. She wondered hotly how it felt. She had read about it in pornography books, and although she had never tried it, and had even recoiled from the thought, she could not deny that she had often felt a chill tingling streak through her body when she thought about it. Pederast. It had a cruel, clinical, perverse sound about it. It sounded like some sort of insect. like cockroach, or centipede. That was it, a centipederast. An insect that rapes children.
"Can I have the ball?" insisted the little boy. He could not be more than nine or ten.
"How would you like to play a game?" Ginger suggested.
"I'm playing a game. I'm playing stickball." Ginger was ready to faint. Already she could feel the boy's tiny little prick making its thrusts inside her gaping cunt.
"How would you like to ball me?" Ginger asked, her eyes grasping the little boy's eyes and holding them in a vise-like stare.
The little boy skewered his face, perplexed. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"I'll show you," Ginger offered helpfully. "Is this school still open?"
When the boy answered that it was, and that there was only the custodian there this late, she took him by the arm and led him into the school with her.
"Can my friends play too?" asked the boy. Ginger's body was seized with a strong plunging desire as she thought of several children's bodies crawling over her, kissing her skin, poling their inquisitive virgin fingers all over her, digging into every cavity and orifice.
"Of course they may," she answered. She waited while three other boys came running towards them from the school play yard.
She led them into the building and had them lead her to the school auditorium. They went backstage, where there were some chairs and mats strewn on the floor, for use in plays and so on.
"What game are we going to play?" they asked her in their pinched squeaky voices. Ginger could hardly wait to strip them all and have them walk and crawl all over her hot lustful body. Desire for them seized her. She could feel the wetness of her aching cunt, and the swelling of her large breasts with their turgid nipples.
"I'll show you what game," she said, calculatingly, as she sat down on a nearby chair and sat one of the boys in her lap.
"What's your name?" she asked in a sweet voice as she held him with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other actively exploring the inside of the boy's thighs.
"Bobby," he managed to squirm out, for he was twitching his body uncomfortably on Ginger's thighs as she caressed his erect little prick through the material of his pants.
"Do you like what I'm doing to you, Bobby?" she asked.
Bobby was breathing hard and fast, but he managed to indicate that he was enjoying it immensely.
Ginger's lust grew by leaps and bounds as she watched Bobby's writhing body and his anguished face. Quickly she undid his pants, ran down the zipper, and drew out his prick.
Her own breathing quickened, and her body felt like a raging mass of heated coals as she gazed at the unviolated child's cock pointing up at her like a pink spear. Her throat went dry at the sight of it, and the twitching of her cunt reached momentous proportions. The boy's three friends gazed at Bobby's distended cock with fascinated eyes and gaping mouths. They looked up at Ginger with eyes wide open. Her body leaped with surging excitement at the sight of the three companions watching her fondle their friend's prick.
She grasped it in her hands and gently massaged it, while the boy in her lap twisted and moaned from the sensations of it. Ginger pulled him closer to her, pressing him against her heaving large breasts, crushing them against Bobby's small pliant body.
He clutched madly at her, burying his face in her breast area, grunting all the while. Ginger kissed him madly, giving full play to her madly roaming tongue.
In a few moments of this Bobby's body convulsed against hers bucking and twisting with the force of his orgasm, with Ginger holding his prick capped in her palm in the event that some fluids should ejaculate. None came, but she held the little prick in her hand, experiencing a hot unstoppable flow of delight coursing through her body, a delight which she had never before tasted.
Bobby lay limp in her lap, exhausted by the excitement that had let loose like a tornado in his frail young body.
His three friends watched him avidly in shocked disbelief. One of them clutched his penis through his pants, his mouth open and his breath coming in short panting gasps.
"Is that what fucking is?" one of them asked tremulously.
Ginger looked at him, her eyes glazed with the sensations which ate up her insides and made her clit twitch excitedly for rubbing and stimulation.
"Will you give me a piece of ass?" asked the same boy shyly, wrinkling up his nose.
The question came like a prick into her ears, and her body exploded with desire the instant she heard it. The impulse to see each of these boys naked gripped her with demonic force as her body screamed for fulfillment. Quickly she got up, and putting down Bobby and letting him rest in the chair, went over to the boy who had asked the question.
"No, that's not fucking," she answered him, taking him by the hand and leading him to one of the mats lying on the floor.
"All the rest of you come over here too," she ordered, her voice cracked with her lusts.
Quickly she disrobed the boy whose hand she held. He watched her as she tugged at his clothing, making no effort to help or interfere, his mouth open in amazement and his eyes bulging.
As soon as she had removed the boy's clothes Ginger hastily disrobed herself. All the children's eyes riveted to the bulging breasts that swayed slightly in the air and at the triangle of pubic hair that held her hungry cunt hidden.
Ginger lay down on the mat, the cloth of it cold and uncomfortable against her soft white skin.
"Come here," she beckoned the little boy, "I'll show you what fucking is."
The childish little prick was full and erect, and though it extended for only about four inches, it drove Ginger wild with uncontrollable desires.
She took the tumescent prick into her practiced hands and mashed it gently, putting it into her mouth for a brief moment, slipping her greedy tongue over its contours, drawing it finally over the glans, and removing it altogether from her mouth as the little boy groaned with pleasure, his eyes closed.
She pulled him down to her cunt, and taking his prick in hand she guided it to her vagina and brought him up close against her well-curved and hungry body. The touch of his cock inside of her had the effect of a live wire, making her body jerk involuntarily. She was on the brink of losing control of herself, of giving herself up completely to her need for fulfillment.
"Rock your hips," she ordered the little boy, whose face was buried in the swelling mountains of her breasts, which his tongue timidly licked. She pulled him close to her body, and encouraged his impulsive jerking motions as his young turgid cock slammed into her cunt with blinding speed.
"That's it, faster, faster and deeper," Ginger explained, sighing deeply while the child on top of her frantically lunged in and out, clutching madly and excitedly at Ginger's breasts, squeezing them so hard that it hurt.
"Fuck me you little cock," Ginger groaned, as her body surged and mounted with excitement. The boy's little hips rocked against her encompassing pelvis, completely swallowed up by their largeness. Ginger groaned and spread her legs, permitting the little cock to go as deeply as it could into her.
"Keep it up," she ordered, as her body drowned her in lusts and cravings, and her hips worked in unison with the little boy's. "The rest of you," she started, "the rest of you strip and get on top of me. And hurry up, you little bastards."
In an instant the three children who watched the lurid scene with avid eyes had stripped themselves completely and had tossed themselves with abandon on Ginger's swelling and receptive body. For a few brief moments arms and legs and bodies flailed in utter pandemonium as each of the young boys struggled to claim a larger area of Ginger's body, clutching at her skin, scratching at her, poling at her, muttering little curse words at her and at themselves, till finally they had apportioned her out and were humping against her, rubbing their cocks against her sweaty white skin.
Ginger grabbed the nearest cock and stuffed it into her mouth, clamping her lips around it and sucking deeply on it. The feel of the boy's springy pubic hair crushing against her impassioned face had her half-crazed, and she viorously drew her mouth up and down the now slimy prick. The boy's hips pumped against her face, hurting her, but the sensation of the soft skin against her own compensated for it and increased her ardor. Harder and harder she moved her mouth, her tongue rasping against the slim cock in her mouth, pressing it, curling around it. She was buried in bodies. There wasn't a portion of her skin that hadn't been clutched or grabbed or kissed or pulled. Everywhere her skin was being manipulated, and the sensations of all this comprehensive touching drove her senses wild. She shrieked.
The boy whose prick she was mouthing began to have his orgasm, and he curled hotly around her face, completely wrapping himself around her while his hips rammed into her opened mouth. When he had finished he rolled off of her and curled up on the floor, moaning and groaning.
"I love you little fucking brats," Ginger screamed at the top of her lungs, her body twisting beneath the mass of flesh that held her so excitingly pinioned. "Pump!" she ordered to the boy in her cunt. "Pump harder you little cunt lover. Slam your rod into me, kill me with your stick, slam your white little balls into my cunt, drive me crazy, crazy, crazy..."
She began to moan fiercely as her come swept over her and made her body twist savagely, dislodging the cock from the pulsing channel of her vagina. The child clutched frantically at her in an effort to insert his prick back into her. But his efforts were in vain for
Ginger's buttocks heaved mightily over the floor as her come torched through her with unsurpassed force and momentum, with a ferociousness and savagery that left her dazed and breathless at the end of it.
"Dear Jesus," Ginger sighed, astonished, "you fucking little kids are some lay, aren't you. I never went through anything like that before."
The child whose prick had been dislodged was still reaching into her in an effort to get himself inside her, but in one swipe Ginger threw him onto the mat beside her and appreciatively and fondly caressed his hard little prick, while the boy made groans under the feel of the expert hands that played over his prick.
But Ginger was concerned to get back to Frank before too much time had elapsed, and she was quite late already. Without a second thought she abandoned the needy prick in her fingers, leaving it jerking and orphaned in the air while she jumped up and hurried back into their clothes.
"Hey, lady, I wanna fuck. I wanna fuck." The little kid persisted in a demanding voice. He charged at Ginger, burying his anger and frustrated face into her cunt, but Ginger gave him a sharp cuff in the face that spilled him onto the floor head over heels.
"The ungrateful little prick," said Ginger hotly.
Quickly she hurried out of the school and started on the way home, the thought of what had just happened lingering like a soft happy dream in her mind.