Chapter 1
The Tarantula is a poisonous spider. It spins no web as a snare but catches its prey because it is fleet of foot. It's home in the ground is lined with silk. Remember these things.
It is told in the villages that one who is bitten by this dreaded scourge falls to the floor as one dead. And only by the skillful use of magic can he be brought out of his deathlike trance. For then the subtle strains of music excite an overpowering desire in him to dance, until he falls to the floor bathed in profuse perspiration but secure in the knowledge that he has been ridden of the envenomed virulence. City doctors from Madrid and Seville, they scoff at this statement. But the old men of the village who sit in the square after a siesta, in the sun, and soak in God's sunshine, they know far more about the bite of the Tarantula than do the august and revered doctors. For they have lived long. They know life. They know, too, of the human tarantulas that have infested our dear somnolescent Spain.
They know of her whom men call "La Tarantula."
And as these old men of the village soak in the healing warmth of the sun, into their bewrinkled faces, they talk through their beards of the woman whom they knew in their youth as "La Tarantula."
She, too, caught her prey because she was fleet of foot. For she was the most agile gypsy dancer in all of Spain. Like her dreaded namesake, she lined her home with silks and satins and varicolored laces and shawls, there to ensnare her men in the oldest trap in the world, her vagina. Her cunt was one of the most irresistibly enticing a woman ever had between her legs, luring her victims with the million-pleasured joys of its throbbing, pulsating essences but insidiously marking them with the death's hand.
For it is recorded that, of all the fuckers that "La Tarantula" harbored to her cunt, not one there was who died a natural death, not one there was who in his deathbed was able to smile sweetly up to the ceiling and receive the prayers of his loved ones gathered around him. All of them died violent deaths, as men should die, by the sword, by the fire and by the beast.
"La Tarantula" was ill starred-a deadly lay.
She was born in Triana, the gypsy settlement, across the Guadalquivir in Seville. It was in this section of the city that the notorious Carmen worked in the cigarette factories for which that part of town is famous. When "La Tarantula" was born, a porcelain factory close by burst into sudden flame. It was an ill omen. The world should have known that she was both for the hump pleasure and the death of man.
When she was ten years old "La Tarantula" became a woman. In the south the blood runs hot. Passions bloom in children like gorgeous hothouse flowers, before their time. Girls' breasts and nipples quickly take on that roundness which makes them fit the eager palms of man. Their hips take on that snaky sinuousness with the full curves that beguile the male into ecstasies of expectancies. Their bushes become starry with faint hairs that do not hide the tiny pouting lips of their virgin vaginas but deck them as though with a filmy curtain of sheer mantilla lace, so that when one sees the moist pink jewel between their legs, one's eyes grow wide with desire and one's breath comes in short labored gasps out of sheer forepleasure.
It was when she was ten years old that she attracted the attention of her uncle, the notorious "Chato Doble." He was a powerfully built gypsy famous for his strength, agility, and the tremendous size of his cock and balls. Tales of the virile conquests of his magnificent prick were legendary among the Romany people all over Europe. As a horse trader his cunning had no equal. It was told of him that he filled an old nag's ears with quicksilver so that it would not droop with age. Once he stole a mule from a tavernkeeper in Granada, clipped its hair and tail, and disguised it so perfectly that he was able to sell it back to the man from whom he had stolen it. It was this sort of a man who eyed "La Tarantula" with a hard-on stiffening his fabulous dick when she first felt the pangs of womanhood creeping into her blood.
She had awakened one morning to find a few tiny specks of blood in her bed. At first she thought that it was the blood of some crushed bedbugs that infested the two rooms in which she and her father lived. But they were much larger than the usual blobs of blood. And when she saw that there was blood, too, around the warm little hole between her legs she let out a shriek of fear and fell back against the wall.
Immediately, her father came rushing into the room from the outside where he had been sunning himself. Behind him was the towering figure of "Chato Doble," her father's brother.
"What's the matter, child?" her father cried.
"La Tarantula" could say nothing. All she could do was point to the blood on the bed. Her father shrieked out a curse when he saw the blood. "Who! What mother's bastard raped your innocent cunny? What sneaky prick pierced your little cherry? I shall slice off the dog's balls and toast his treacherous dick over a slow fire! Come on, gypsy! Tell me!"
"La Tarantula" could not understand her father. Nobody had raped her, she whimpered. She had slept alone all night. She did not tell her father that she had had a beautiful dream in which a handsome Spanish don from across the river had kissed her and had fondled her pussy and had fucked her beautifully in her dream. "I awoke from sleep," she said, "and there was the blood."
Her uncle "Chato Doble," pushed his way in past his brother's body who was standing in the doorway. He looked down at the bloodstains. Then he looked down at the shapely young body of the girl, his niece. He saw the well-rounded breasts budding into bloom like a pair of golden Seville oranges. He saw the well-rounded ass of a young girl shaping out from what had previously been an adolescent's slim, bony shanks. He realized that the child that had once been a spindly-shanked girl was blossoming out into a woman. And his heart told him that, although she was his niece, she was still a woman and she was beautiful. And his huge penis already leaping into a hard-on between his legs and an ache in his balls told him that her cunt was beautiful to see and, what was more, more beautiful to fuck. "Christos!" he swore beneath his beard as his eyes glittered at the sight of her downy bush hair and mature cunny-lips.
Then, taking his brother aside, he whispered something into his ear, the while the girl lay back against the wall and eyed the two men fearfully. She saw a gleam come into her father's eyes. Then a look of relief settled into his features. "So that is all," he sighed.
"What, father?" she inquired anxiously.
Her father advanced toward her and seated himself on her bed. "Cover up your naked body, my child," he said, "for there are men in the room with you. You must learn that these charms are not to be exposed freely. Your intact maidenhood is worth much silver to me. You have already become a woman."
And she was glad. For she knew now that she was no more a child. That she could flirt with the men who came from across the river to see the gypsy girls dance and show their naked thighs as their swirling skirts rose. If they threw silver, they could see glimpses of bush-hair. And when their blood ran hot, for more silver they could take the dancer of their choice in her locked wagon.......
She was glad she would be dancing herself soon, feeling their hot eyes piercing her to the very marrow of her soul, looking at her sex.
But "Chato Doble" had already seen her naked. He had seen many women naked in his life. His prick was as long and thick as his life and as active. He had thrust it thousands of times into the quiver ing quims of Spanish ladies and gypsy girls. But never before had he seen a woman's body that compared to the body of his young niece. There was a velvety smoothness to her skin that almost hypnotized the hands, begging the fingers to touch of its sleekness. There was a curve to her buttocks that promised a thousand lewd lovetricks. And although he realized that he could be guilty of no greater crime than fucking the daughter of his own blood-brother, he still coveted her virginity in his heart. In fact, he remained at the house of his brother for a much longer time than he had ever done before. Usually, he dropped into his brother's cottage in Triana, for only a short visit. In no time, after a repast of soup, cheese and a glass of "oloroso," he would be off again to Castile or Granada or wherever his heart so willed. But now, now his insistent hard-on willed him to remain. To remain in his brother's house where he might feast his eyes on the loveliness of the alluring ass, saucy tits and sensuous face that was his brother's daughter.
Night after night he would turn and twist on his pallet in the kitchen, dreaming fitfully of the beautiful naked body that he had seen in the gloom of the room, but nearly always unable to close his eyes in sleep because he knew that less than ten feet away from him there reposed that same glorious virgin pussy of which he dreamed and for which his prodigious penis actually ached. Hours he would spend in sleepless nights detailing to himself the marvels of her beauty, going over each of her charms like a monk fingers his rosary, reluctantly allowing each to slip away and avidly seizing another charm and fondling her tits, pussyhps and clitoris in his mind until he almost grew mad with desire.
But there were two things that deterred him from getting up and slipping into his niece's room and letting his hard-on pierce her cherry as she lay sleeping. One of these deterrents was the heinousness of the crime of incest. Another was the custom of proving virginity among the gypsies. He realized that when a gypsy girl was married she must show proof of her virginity by staining the white sheets of her marriage bed with the virgin blood of her maidenhood. This bloodstained sheet would be paraded around the streets so that all would know that she was a virgin. He realized that if he stole his niece's virginity, his brother, according to ancient gypsy custom, would be forced to avenge this insult by killing the deflorator of his child.
And all the while, "La Tarantula" would walk around the house attired only in a thin, transparent dress. And when she would kneel sometimes, her uncle would see the downy bush-hair that covered her delicious cunny. And he would clench his fists and suck in his breath and bite his hps to keep himself from seizing hold of her and throwing her to the ground, there to fuck her with his prick that was demanding entrance to her alluring cunt.
Once, "Chato Doble" thought he would try to forget the young girl who had so bewitched his pecker. He went into the city across the river. There he picked up a prostitute, a woman of the streets, and took her to a "cafetine," a low class cafe. He got himself thoroughly drunk on brandy. He got his senses inflamed watching a Spanish wench swing her hips and breasts in a sexy "flamenco" dance. But when he tried to fuck the whore he had taken in from the streets, he saw only a shrivelled-up body with thin, bony legs and an enormous hole of a cunt, a dog if ever there was one, instead of the well rounded shape of his niece with her pink-lipped quim nestling in its maiden hairs. With a roar, he pushed the dazed whore, whose legs were spread awaiting his cock, away from him, sprang out of bed and ran stumbling down the street.
When he had himself ferried over the river he gave himself over to thoughts of his niece, indeed the picture of her luscious cunny, a fruit ripe for picking, had never left him. And the more he thought of her the more he desired her. His drunken brain refused to voice the fears that had stopped him from raping her before. He became recklessly brave from the strong cognac and encouraged by the drunken proddings of his heart, he stumbled out of the boat, down into the depths of the Triana into the slum district where his brother lived with his niece.
The fates conspired with him. On that same night, his brother had found it necessary to remain the night with his own mistress whom he was fucking at her home. He dared not bring her to his own home because he did not want to contaminate his lovely innocent daughter with the sight or sounds of the hot screwing they indulged themselves in. His woman was wont to shriek as if she were being murdered when he ejaculated in her torrid twat. And so, that night, of all nights, he remained away from home leaving his daughter alone in their house, sleeping peacefully, dreaming perhaps of a blackhaired young Spanish dom who was stroking her buttocks and kissing her wildly on the lips before inserting his noble prick in a most gentlemanly way up her pussy.......
Her uncle meanwhile, had stopped outside in the street and was debating with himself whether he should go up or not. A faint glimmer of sense in back of his head had warned him to continue onward. But a stronger surge of passion, a truly painful hard-on troubling his big, thick prick, coupled with the force of his drunkenness tugged at his aching balls and at his penis and painted beautiful pictures in his mind of what would happen. He saw himself stroking the lovely girl's limbs. He felt her cool young body next to his inflamed delirious dick. He could almost feel her tongue insinuating itself into his mouth, searching every nook and cranny for some spot to titillate. Was there no wonder that he chose to do as he did? He had always been a prisoner of his powerful pecker.
A wineshop was next to the house in which his brother lived. In the moonlight, he saw the slender necks of winebottles glinting like jewels. Wrapping his hat around his fist, he looked cautiously around first and then sank his fist into the window. A thin tinkling sound broke the night air. He remained quiet for a while listening for sounds. None came. Not even in back of the shop was there anyone stirring. With satisfaction, he swept up a number of bottles of choice wines and ducked into the hallway at the side of the winestore that led up to his brother's rooms. In the distance he had seen the glint of the patent-leather cocked hats of a pair of the constabulary.
Craftily, he ascended the dark stairs, making no sound. The bottles in his arms clinked as he took each step. Their contents of wines gurgled merrily. A broad grin came to "Chato Doble's" face, the fantastic head of his cock throbbed pleasurably with anticipation. He would ply his brother with wine and get him drunk. And then, when he would fall off to sleep, in a stupor, he, "Chato Doble," would slip into the girl's room and there partake of that sweet, honeyed cunt for which he had thirsted, for which his parched tongue now clove'to his palate.
He pushed the door open slightly and listened. There was no sound. All he heard was the faint clicketyclack of the constable's heels on the cobblestones in the street below. Soon he heard the sounds grow fainter and fainter until they were no more. He was surprised not to hear his brother's deep stentorian snores. And when his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, he looked around. He saw the same bare room he had left before. His pile of clothes lay in the corner. The charcoal brazier smoked lazily against the wall. A plate of beans and potatoes, his dinner, had grown stiff on a plate on the table and was covered with hardened fat. A gleam came into his eyes. His brother was not home, was this not the night he fucked that piece of ass he had in the city? The gleam was changed instantly to a perplexed frown. Perhaps he had gone out with the girl? Perhaps she, too, was not home. His heart beating like mad, his breathing labored, "Chato Doble" edged over to the door that separated the two rooms. For a second he heard nothing but the beating of his own yearning heart. Then, faintly, he heard the calm, regular breathing of a young girl.
He stepped into her room.
The bottles of wine still rested in his arms.
In the bed, he saw her, for whom the biggest cock of the Romany people yearned. Not daring to breathe for fear of waking her, he stood staring down at her young body partially uncovered, the quilt covering her tossed aside in her sleep. Directly in a thin, tremulous shaft of moonlight that had slithered into the room from the window above her head, he saw her left breast tumble out from the confines of her shift, standing out from the darkening gloom of the rest of her body like a white breast of carved Carrara marble. And pointing up from this perfect tit, surrounded by an aureole of pink-tinted flesh, he saw the ruby nipple of the girl, standing up as though erect with passion.
His throbbing balls ached so at this sight that "Chato Doble" could control himself no longer. Sinking to his knees, with a moan, he dropped his mouth to the firm breast and gently tongued the nipple, caressing it subtly with his lips occasionally feeling its tender tip stiffen almost imperceptibly under the manipulations of his ardent, hot tongue.
He heard his niece sigh and then suck in her breath as though she were experiencing an orgasm in her twitching young cunny. Immediately he refrained from tonguing her nipple, anxiously watching her eyes for fear she should awaken before he had fully aroused her passion. But she sank once more into her deep slumber. But this time, instead of dreaming only that her dark lover was only kissing and fondling her, she felt him gently insinuate the noble, swarthy cock that was dangling elegantly between his legs in between her own legs. In her dream, she realized now what the big cock was for that hung between her father's legs and which she heard him piss through. It was also to go into her own cunny-hole between her legs. That's what it was for. And as she felt her dream lover inserting his ideal dick into her, she felt a quiver of pain go through her. But it was a different sort of pain because, although it hurt her, behind the pain there was a sort of pleasure that made her gasp with joy and shiver with fright at the same time.
Suddenly she opened her eyes.
Looming over her, she saw the dark, bearded face of her uncle, "Chato Doble." Unable to control himself any longer, he had lifted the quilt from off her legs, drawn away the thin shift that covered her nakedness and had inserted his finger into her sweet cunny, skirmishing meanwhile for the little button of pleasure, her clitoris. It was at that point that he saw his niece's eyes open. But he saw that there was no fear in them. He noted that she did not shriek. Instead, she stared calmly up at him, wondering why he had shoved his finger into her hole but knowing that it felt good, that it seemed to be that for which she had been waiting for all of her years.
For a moment, neither said a word. "Chato Doble" allowed his finger to remain in her cunny moving it gently. Then he said in a low tone, his voice quivering with emotion, the words scarcely spoken, "Are you afraid of what I am doing down there, my child?"
She shook her head from side to side.
And her eyes widened at what her uncle did next.
"Chato Doble" withdrew his finger. Then he took up a bottle of wine from the floor where he had dropped them all. When he pulled the cork out, the pop resounded against the walls eerily. The odor that emanated from the neck came up to his nostrils. He sniffed it. Muscatel. Sweet, heavy wine. Intoxicating wine. He leaned over the bed to his niece and offered her the bottle. Her eyes still wide, she took the bottle from him and put it to her hps and threw her head back. She felt the liquid splash into her mouth and course down her throat. She felt a suffusing warmth gliding into every vein of her body. She felt a gentle throb pulse its way into her head, like a small headache. The wall of the room fluttered like a moth crazy with light. The ceiling quivered like a rabbit's heart. A ringing came into her ears like the sound of church bells miles away. And, as though he were as many miles away, she saw her uncle's face, emerging from a mass of indeterminate features. Closer and closer she saw the face come, taking on recognizable features all the while. Then she felt his lips touch hers. She felt his avid fingers caressing the stiffened nipples of her breasts. She felt a thick, enormous stiffness brushing up against the pink, moist lips of the cunny between her legs.
She wanted to let out a cry. She wanted to seize hold of his fingers at her titties. But the resultant reactions of his expert fingering on her tingling hard nipples made her forget to object. She wanted to contract the opening of her legs so that he could find no entrance for the big thing that he was rubbing against her wet pussy. She wondered why she felt as if it were drenched with warm, flowing juice from somewhere deep within her belly.... But her own desires made her throw her thighs open to him. AreH she felt the tremendous tip of his prick inching gently into her, rubbing against the little clitoris that had already stiffened like a rod. And she found a delicious warmth glowing up all around her midsection. But there was pain there. The further in she felt his huge thing going the more pain there was. She tried to scream in terror and pain. But no cry came. Only a deep sigh and a moan. She clutched her uncle's buttocks in a frenzy and sank her teeth into his cheek. But he continued to thrust his prick down deeper into her cunny.
Suddenly, she felt something deep within her break down. An excruciating spasm of pain tore through her like a jagged spear ripping through her innards. And she did cry out, like a wounded thing, moaning, weeping and wailing.
"Chato Doble" immediately withdrew his penis from her wriggling pussy. It was still swollen and enlarged like an enormous club. The tip of it was splattered with blood. He looked down at his niece's now gaping cunny and saw a thin trickle of blood issuing from between its pulsing crevice. No wonder she was so wild. She was a real virgin and he had just torn her maidenhead with his willful cock. He looked down tenderly at her, tears almost coming to his eyes, a sob catching his throat when he saw her weeping into her hands.
"A thousand pardons, darling! I'm so sorry!" he said, and he stroked her ass gently and kissed her forehead and eyes tasting the bitter tears between his lips.
But the girl was a true gypsy, and the women of Romany have always known instinctively how to handle a virile cock. She had seven and one half ribs under her flanks, as all real sons and daughters of Egypt should have. Stifling her tears, withholding her sobs, she reached up and took her uncle's head between her little hands and withdrew his face down to hers. Then, almost instinctively, she seized hold of his lips with her own untutored lips and glued them together, forking her tongue lasciviously into his mouth, entwining it around his tongue and, with nervous fingers, reaching downward between the soft fuzz of his thick bush and seizing hold of his enormous, stiffened prick.
"Give it to me! give it to me, uncle!" she cried, as she felt the superb shaft of the biggest penis of all Romany burning in her palms.
And he gave it to her. Now that he had already broken her maidenhead, there was no bar guarding the thrust of his rampaging cock. Inserting the tip of it into her hole, he first skirmished around its narrow entrance, touching her clitoris with the tip of his knob from time to time, each contact sending delicious thrills coursing up her spine, like lightning flashes.
"Shove in! in!" she insisted, her voice scarcely able to speak the words, so intense was her passion, so ardent were her emotions.
In he went, ramming his shaft with a full thrust of his strong loins.
Up and back he pumped his dick, first sending its entire length to the hilt into her cunt and then withdrawing it only until the tip rested on the lips of her vagina. And then, when she could not stand its absence any longer, he would shove it ramming into her. And with eachocruel thrust she would give a cry. And with each cry she would catch herself from sobbing. She seized hold of his flesh and dug her fingernails into his flesh as she felt his prick filling her virgin cunt, the pain almost overpowering her sometimes. But she held on to him, moving her ass and thighs as best she knew how, with a sure instinct for taking each violent hump-thrust with a valor that was worthy of any soldier on the battlefield, because, in her virgin state, the fucking that she was getting from her big-pricked uncle was simply forcing the walls of her tender vagina apart. But she held on grimly, sometimes biting her lips to keep herself from shrieking, sometimes biting her uncle out of sheer passion, seizing hold of his hps at times and biting his lips and tongue and feeling him bite her. Frigging a male dick, no matter whose, was instinctive with her.
Before she knew it, she came.
She felt a curious overloading in her belly and ass. She felt a strange whirling, bubbling inside of her. She felt a choking hot wind come up to her mouth and nostrils and seize her in an iron vise. Madly she rotated her hips, not knowing what she was doing. Wildly she rolled her eyes. Panting, her breath came to her like the heavy gasping of one dying for lack of air.
And she came-for the first time!
Bubbling over inside of her she felt something in her overflow itself and permeate her whole body and soul with its boiling hot essences. And then she went weak. She fell back onto her pillow sobbing pitifully because it was all over, because the intense thrill of her climactic emotions were slowly ebbing away and away, until it seemed that she had never experienced them at all.
Then she felt a great torrid splashing within her. She felt a series of jetting spurts. And the emotions returned partially. And she seized hold of her uncle's quivering ass and wrapped her limbs around his back and glued her lips onto his lips.
They lay that way together for ten minutes, as his cock kept shooting his semen up her pussy, until her cunt actually overflowed with the whitish stuff. Neither said a word, both resting in their own thoughts, each wondering what the other was thinking of.
It was in that position that "Chato Doble V brother found them. He himself, returning home from his steady hump's rooms was sadly ruminating on the fate that forced him to leave the warm comforts of his piece of ass's bed. Hearing noises in his daughter's room, he stepped into it to see the enormous bare ass of a man lying over his daughter's naked body, her legs spread wide apart in screwing position. A red film came over his eyes. He saw nothing only the hateful back of the man who was deflowering his virgin daughter. His hot Spanish blood seethed in him. His gypsy sense of justice came to the fore. Hastily looking around for a weapon, his eyes fell on the wine bottles his brother had dumped onto the floor. Taking one of them he smashed its neck against the edge of the wall. The red wine came spurting out like blood from a severed artery. The top of the bottle neck flew off leaving a jagged series of knifelike edges around the bottle's neck.
Raising it high above his head, he sank his improvised dagger deep into the naked back of the rapist. Blood gushed forth from the gaping wound and mingled with the red of the wine seeping out of the bottle. The rapist gave one mortal cry of terror and then sank limply onto the girl's nude body, the blood streaming over her white nakedness like spilt wine.
When her father turned the body over in order to extricate his daughter from the gruesome mess, in the eerie moonlight he saw the face of his own brother "Chato Doble" grinning up at him, as though the whole affair was a huge joke. "Chato Doble!" he cried out. But the girl who was to be known as "La Tarantula" gave vent to a loud shriek. The Tarantula made its first strike.