Chapter 8
They had sent Astrid Fullhan back to her kitchen, sobbing with remorse after having made her swear that she would show up promptly at two o'clock a week from Sunday afternoon at the house of Dodie Ames on Cedar-ton Road. "Because if you're late or if you don't show, bitch," Henry Warren had snapped at her as he himself had yanked up her suspants-not without pinching her bottom and finally applying a sadistic little pinch to the plump mound of her thickly fleeced cunt- "I'll personally come over to your house with a projector and have your hubby watch this movie, every bit of it. Betty will call you later during the week to tell you what to wear for the initiation. Now go back home and stay there, snoop!"
Once the kitchen door had banged behind the sobbing bespectacled blonde matron, Henry Warren went back into the garage. All this time, he hadn't bothered to put his ferociously erect penis back into his shorts, and he didn't now. He plunged his hand into his pants pocket and took out a rubber, then fitted it onto the bony-looking, mushroom-cap-like tipped lance, smoothed it out without a wrinkle, and then moved over to his entranced red-haired girl friend. Betty understood without words; with a giggle of anticipatory delight, she whisked off her miniskirt and stepped out of the net panties, moved over to the old trunk near the back of the garage over whose surface she had already draped a car-blanket, and then, with a gasp of eagerness, lay back down on it. "Oh Hank, lover, you were just wonderful, and I'm so randy I can't see straight," she breathed. "I want you to have me now, I can't wait till we get married. And I see you brought the necessary, so it won't do any harm at all. Please hurry!"
"A gentleman doesn't have to be asked twice with an offer like that, sweet stuff," he grinned wickedly as he moved toward her. A moment later, bending over her, his hands fondling her panting breasts, he sealed her mouth with a passionate French kiss, as he edged the tip of his rubber-sheathed penis against the moistened, quivering pink cuntal lips of her virgin orifice and entered the tight warm young lob-byway.
"I don't care if it hurts, I want it bad," Betty whispered when the kiss was over. Her arms linked round his neck, squeezing tightly to her, and she arched herself as she sensed his muscles tightening for the assault upon her maidenhead.
She winced when the battering ram of his organ abruptly banged against the thin membrane of her hymen, and then the twinge of pain was forgotten, and she groaned with delight to feel the heavy, hard-rooting spear impaling her to its very hilt. Her lovely bare legs flung up and locked over his wiry buttocks, and she began to join her rhythm to his, urging him to hurry, to do it to her, to bring her the fulfillment that her wildly aroused senses so desperately needed.
"I ought to send her some flowers or something after Hell Night, Hank lover," she panted as he kept stroking away, "because if she hadn't snooped on us from the start, you wouldn't be doing this to me now-oh it's so good-oh fuck me hard-faster, oh darling, give me every inch you've got-oh I'm sure glad I didn't wait till we got married-and we can do it all the time now, because it's safe, isn't it-oh Hank, oh sweetheart-oh I'm going to cum, I know I am-oh lover-aaahh-oh Hank, now, now!!
Her voice rose to a paean of rapture, her arms and legs locked tightly round him, as he thrust a final time and burst himself within the rubberized safeguard which kept her chastity intact if not her hymen. Betty was shaken by the spasm of furious relief, and she kissed him frenziedly until at last the sweet oblivion and lassitude after coitus eased their tensions.
"What are you going to have her wear, baby?" he asked her a long while later, as they shared a cigarette together.
"She'll have to keep those pigtails and those ribbons, and, I'll make her wear a kid's outfit, you watch and see."
"Can I?"
"You mean actually be there at the initiation? Gosh, we've never had a fellow. And I don't know if Dodie would go for it," Betty said doubtfully.
"Suppose I tell the girls they can all watch while I give it to the new pledge after she's gone through Hell Night," he hinted with a leer.
"You mean-you'd fuck Astrid, lover? That's a simply terrific idea! I know Dodie would go for that-and so would I." Then she frowned at him. "Only just don't go getting too much of a taste for her brand of snoopy pussy, lover. Now that I know what it's like, I'm going to put my brand on you. But just once to teach her a lesson, I don't think it'll do any harm. Now hurry up and get another safe on and give it to me again. Am I ever glad Daddy went and got himself married!"
Astrid Fullhan had died a thousand deaths of humiliation and apprehension by the time the Sunday of her command appearance before the "Summerton Swinging Sexpots" fell due. Matthew Fullhan had come back from his Boston meeting with Amos Denby and another seance with honey-haired Eleanor late the previous Sunday night, and his bespectacled wife had very nearly been tempted to throw herself on his mercy, confess what she had done, and what compensation was being demanded of her by vindictive Betty Jurgens and Henry Warren. But her guilty awareness of her own "sin" in spying on the two young people had begun to gnaw on her conscience, and most of all she was terrified at the idea of what her usually mild husband would say and do if he were to see a print of that movie in the garage. No matter how she tried to explain it, she realized, appearances would be very much against her; even though she had struggled and been revolted at the stripping of her garments and her enforced proximity to that shameless boy, the undeniable fact remained that she had been pictured in tight embrace with him and then, the recollection of which made her blush violently with mortification, knelt down and posed as if she were about to accept his penis orally.
Besides, there seemed to have been a change in Matthew Fullhan himself, one that she was powerless to analyze. He had been extremely cool and diffident towards her, kissing her lightly on the cheek and saying very little about the trip except that his work had been approved by the agency and that he might have to go back the next weekend. At that point, she fervently hoped he would, because then he wouldn't be around to have to explain to why she had to leave home on Sunday afternoon.
On Friday afternoon, she had received a call from Betty, reminding her to be there promptly at two o'clock on Sunday afternoon and telling her that a last-minute change had been arranged for her initiation costume: She would be given it when she arrived at Dodie's house. Nobody would recognize her, and once the initiation was over she would be given the reel of the movie to destroy or to do with as she pleased. Nor would Betty and Henry make any further comment about the episode once she had kept her part of the bargain.
She had thus spent a wretched week, not only wondering about what would happen to her on Sunday afternoon but also whether Matthew was going to be absent from the house when her ordeal took place. Moreover, her husband kept up his aloof attitude all through the week, not once going to bed with her and remarking that he was going to stay up late and work on some of the preparatory sketches for the follow-up campaign on the fish cannery account which was bringing them such welcome extra revenue. As a consequence, Astrid wasn't called upon to fulfill her marital duties; indeed, Matthew Fullhan had made love to his wife exactly once since his very first trip to Boston.
Then on Saturday afternoon, he got a call from Amos Denby to tell him that the follow-up campaign had been postponed for a fortnight and that he needn't come to Boston for this particular weekend. Thus, over the breakfast table on Sunday, Astrid Fullhan found herself compelled to invent an acceptable lie to explain her leaving the house that afternoon.
"M-Matthew, would you mind if I went out this afternoon?" she had begun.
He had looked up from the newspaper and shaken his head. "No, why should it I'm just going to finish some of my sketches and get them ready for when the agency calls me back to Boston. You go ahead. You'll want to use the car, I suppose?"
"Oh yes-I mean-yes I'd like to, if I may."
"Of course. Will you be back in time for supper?"
"I-I think so. But maybe-well, would you mind very much having dinner at a restaurant this evening in case I'm late?"
He put down his paper and stared at her. "No, I suppose not," he said slowly. "Mind telling me where you're going?"
Astrid's face flamed and she lowered her eyes. Her lips had suddenly gone dry and she licked them furtively as she hastily summoned all her powers of inventiveness. "Well, you see, our bridge club is having an election of officers, and I've been nominated for president. And I suppose I have to be there in case I'm elected."
"Good luck. Only I didn't know you'd taken up bridge. I've never seen any of the neighborhood women over here playing cards, come to think of it."
"Well, you see," Astrid frantically improvised, "when you go to Boston, I'm sort of at loose ends, and I really like bridge a lot and I used to play it back in school-so Wilma Corrigan and Lois Dawson invited me to play. It-it's over at Lois's this afternoon."
"Well, good for you! I'm glad you've got yourself a hobby, Astrid. One of these days, though, when I've got this Boston thing all lined up and my working schedule pretty clear ahead of me, you and I are going to sit down and have a little talk about the future."
"Of course, d-darling! Whatever you say. Thank you for being so understanding," Astrid nervously stammered.
As she hurried to the sink to do the breakfast dishes, Astrid's cheeks were burning, and she didn't notice that Matthew Fullhan was studying her intently with a speculative look in his usually mild blue eyes. . . .
She parked the car along the curb in front of the address which Betty Jurgens had given her, got out, and, biting her lips, walked up the steps and rang the doorbell.
Dodie Ames was Betty's age, a tall haughty black-haired senior at Summerton High, and her parents were probably the richest family in all Summerton. They had left two weeks ago for a European second honeymoon, promising their only daughter a similar trip as a wedding present when she married Fred Hennings in September. Dodie was president of the secret high-school sorority, which comprised about eighteen girls between the ages of sixteen and eighteen and which pledged only those girls known to have "gone the limit" or ready to approach that sophisticated sexual stage with a steady boyfriend, and also whose grades were satisfactory, enough so that the school authorities would attach no particular significance to their regular dating habits.
Actually, "Hell Night" was to have been the following Friday evening, but Betty Jurgens had had a long session with Dodie and explained the unusual circumstances of the "masked pledge" who would be the piece de resistance at this ceremony. So Dodie had laughingly agreed to hold the ceremonial in the basement recreation room of her parents' palatial house where there was no danger of intrusion from unwanted outsiders or snooping neighbors.
"First, we're going to blindfold you, Astrid," Betty announced, as tall Dodie appeared beside her in playshorts, bra halter, high-heeled black leather pumps and transparent black clockwork net hose that disappeared under the legs of her shorts and were held up by a single tab clamping high against each thigh from a green satin-elastic garter belt.
"You're sure-you're sure nobody is going to know who I am?" Astrid Fullhan nervously quavered, her face very red as Dodie's amused and scornful gaze fixed on her.
"I promised, didn't I? Now come along!" Betty curtly commanded. They took hold of Astrid's wrists and led her down the hallway of the big house and thence to a narrow door opening just off the pantry, down a flight of narrow stone steps into the huge basement, part of which had been sectioned off with several Japanese shoji screens. Betty opened a storage-room door, flicked on a light switch, and pointed to a straight-backed chair on which was placed a dress box. "Here's your outfit, Astrid. You'll find a mask in there; actually, it's a kind of hood. That way, you can even wear your glasses, but nobody will see your face. Now get moving. We're working on two other pledges before you, but you'll be the only one going through the line. Make it fast!"
With this, the red-haired teen-ager shoved Astrid into the room and locked the door, while she and Dodie shoved aside one of the screens and went back into the initiation area. Two sixteen-year-old pledges were going through at the same time, one of them a petite dark-brown-haired Venus with big round breasts and bottom to match, plump thighs, and a pale milky skin, the other a slim, shy, coppery-haired girl with willowy legs and small apple-like breasts. Both girls had been ordered to report wearing the sheerest nylons they could find, garter belts, high-heeled pumps, bra and panty sets, and only a dress over that provocative deshabille. They had both been blindfolded, the dresses removed, their hands tied in front of them, and then each of their "Big Sisters" had led them by tying a cord to their wrist-bonds and drawing on it like a leash through the waiting paddle line. Each girl had gone through twice, the first time with her panties on, and then Dodie Ames had condemned the pledges to make a return trip with their panties removed on the alleged grounds of cowardice.
Meanwhile, trembling with shame and fear, Astrid Fullhan hastily began to undress. But to her ears, very plainly, came the sounds of pinewood paddles landing crisply on naked girlflesh and the wails and cries and piteous pleas of the two young sufferers to be let off. "Oh-oww-eeyarhhh-oh please stop, oh I can't take anymore-owww!-oh please do stop, please, it hurts so much-Aiiii!"
Then she heard Dodie Ames's haughty voice sneeringly ordering, "The big babies, all that fuss over a little spanking! We'll give them one last chance, but first we're going to have our Midwestern transferee. We're going to call her Miss X, because she's asked that we keep her real name a secret, girls. Oh yes, one last thing-she's just a little older than Phyllis and Delia there, so I expect you sisters to give her a real warm welcome to Summerton High S.S.S., and I mean just that! Madam Vice President, will you go see if Miss X is ready to meet her betters by now?"
Astrid Fullhan uttered a strangled cry, her heart pounding wildly. She had opened the dress box after having stripped down to her suspants, bra, hose, and pumps, and discovered indeed, a new "initiation outfit." It comprised an old flour sack that had been turned inside out and made into a kind of dress, such as farmers' wives wore a couple of generations ago, a black lace-trimmed strapless bra, a pair of lace-trimmed, very flouncy black satin panties which at first horrified glance appeared to be somewhat small for her generous proportions, a pair of gauzy smoke-colored nylons, and a gaudy red satin-elastic garter belt, and finally a pair of four-inch-heeled red leather pumps.
The door was unlocked and Betty Jurgens appeared, hands on hips. "My goodness, haven't you finished getting dressed, Astrid? We're waiting for you. Now get a move on!"
"But-but-you don't expect me-these things are just disgraceful-"
"You mean they're too sexy? You put them on, Astrid Fullhan, or we'll run the movie right here and now in front of all the girls. Not only that, we'll tie you up and paddle your big bottom raw just the same. Now you've got your choice!"
"Oh, dear-oh my Lord," Astrid wailed, but the hard glitter in the teen-ager's eyes convinced her that to comply would be the lesser of two evils.
She was blushing to her hair roots as she stood at last naked, and then even more hastily pulled on the snug-fitting black satin panties. Betty had to aid her, and they very nearly split, but at last they were in place, outlining the ripely opulent, deeply grooved cheeks of Astrid Fullhan's bottom like a second skin that had just been sewn on. "Oh dear, I won't even be able to walk in these without splitting them," Astrid Fullhan moaned.
"Don't worry about that. Now hurry up, I told you they're waiting for you!" Betty Jurgens impatiently commanded.
There was one final item in the dressbox: a black hood which covered the head and fell to the shoulders, with large cut-outs for the eyes and nothing else. "Keep your glasses on, and let's get moving!" Betty snapped as Astrid, at last dressed in the flour sack and squirming uneasily in the fearfully tight panties and an almost equally tight bra which hugged her closely spaced, upstandingly rounded cantaloupe-like breasts, took a few tentative steps on the high-heeled pumps and then burst into suppressed sobs. "I-I can't walk in these shoes, Betty-honestly I can't-" she moaned, wringing her hands in despair.
"Oh yes you can, and you'll learn! You come along with me now. Hold out your hands- there!" Swiftly Betty looped the noose of a white felt cord over Astrid Fullhan's wrists, tugged it tightly, and then used the other end like a leash to lead the blonde matron, stumbling forward, uttering frantic little cries of fright for fear that she would topple to the stone floor. As she had been ordered, she wore the two childlike pigtails with blue ribbons attached to the ends, and of course these could be seen descending beneath the hood.
Mock whistles of jeering and greedy admiration greeted her appearance from behind the shoji screens, and Betty Jurgens led her in front of the single line of sixteen sorority sisters, each brandishing a pinewood paddle.
"Miss X wishes to say that she is humbly ready for her initiation into our exalted and exclusive sorority, Madam President," Betty Jurgens announced to the grinning black-haired Dodie Ames.
"Let her begin the test of courage now then. Prepare her, Madam Vice President!"
While Betty continued to hold the improvised leash, two of the sorority girls hurried forward, their paddles tucked under their arms, lofted Astrid's flour sack dress and rolled it high on her back where they pinned it up with safety pins. More whistles of admiration rose at the sight of the spectacularly ripe bottom, the black satin shaping out the cheeks and the crease between them in the most suggestive way. Astrid's face was almost purple now with blushes of shame, and the backs of her legs were trembling so that she swayed on the high-heeled pumps to which she was entirely unaccustomed.
"Now then, Madam Vice President, since you are acting as her Big Sister, bring her before the exalted tribunal," Dodie Ames announced, and swept her paddle downward in a wicked arc to indicate the beginning of Astrid Fullhan's expiation.
Betty had decided not to blindfold her victim, because it would add to her terror and humiliation; thus Astrid Fullhan was able to see through the disguising hood what awaited her . . . sixteen girls swinging paddles, licking their lips, giggling, and awaiting her in a single line. Her flesh cringed at the thought, but Betty was already tugging on the cord. "Come on, Miss X, don't be bashful, we want to give you a warm welcome into our sorority!"
As she passed the first girl, a plump, smirking seventeen-year-old dishwater-blonde, the latter drew her paddle back and applied it with gusto across both cheeks of Astrid Fullhan's ample bottom. With a wild shriek, the frantic matron stumbled forward, but already a second paddle collided across both bottom-globes, at almost the same place, and then a third and a fourth as Betty pulled her forward. "Oh no-it hurts-oh my God-I can't stand it-wait, oh I can't walk on these awful shoes-ahrrr-oh my God, have mercy, Betty, please-oh don't-ahrrww ouuu!! Please stop -oh you're killing me-you're just killing me-aiiii-eeyahhrr!!" Twice, under the flailing paddles, Astrid Fullhan lost her balance on the pinchingly tight spike-heeled pumps, stumbled and sank down to her knees, only to be jerked up by the pitiless redhead. During these interludes, the giggling girls took full advantage of her helplessness to apply several more swats till at last she scrambled to her feet and stumbled forward, wailing and sobbing, her cheeks drenched with juvenile tears of pain and woe.
When they came to the end of the line where Dodie awaited her, the black-haired president of the secret sorority regaled the sobbing matron with a ferocious swat across the base of her bottom that drove Astrid down on her knees again and then sprawling flat on the floor, kicking her legs and sobbing as if her heart would break.
"Miss X is a worse cry-baby than those little freshies we just dusted off," she said contemptuously. "Madam Vice President, take her through the line again, and this time raw!"
"To hear is to obey, Madam President," Betty winked and giggled. Then, bending down, she put her hands to the waistband of the black satin panties, noticing that here and there at the seams there was evidence of splitting. One vigorous ripping jerk and the sheath was torn off a lusciously opulent bottom that was already a violently bright-red hue from chink-bone to the tops of her quaking thighs.
"On your feet, pledge!" Betty moved round and forward now, yanking at the cord. But Astrid plaintively implored mercy, ignominiously lying there on her belly and looking up through the slits of her hood at her vindictive young tormentress: "Oh please, no more-I'll be so good-I won't ever snoop again-please, Betty, have mercy, I hurt so!"
"Want me to show the movie, Miss X?" was all Betty had to say, and with a wail of anguish, the unhappy matron awkwardly got to her feet, crying out again as the maneuver sent new waves of burning anguish through her naked behind.
This time, it was Dodie who started Astrid off on her second run of the mill, with a diagonally placed swat that made the pinewood paddle jump over the huddling, inflamed naked globes and wrenched a piercing shriek from the mature sufferer.
Now she cast aside all dignity and poise, all intellectual stature: Astrid Fullhan had been reduced to a plaintive, anguished little girl whose bottom pained her dreadfully and who was ready to do anything in the world if that pain would only terminate. At least four times she fell down on her knees and wildly begged Betty to be satisfied with what she was suffering already, but each time she was dragged to her feet and made to continue, and the girls, reveling in the prospect of initiating a full-grown woman who was acting like a child, applied many more spanks than she would have had had she been able to go through the line stoically.
And then at last it was over, and once again she lay sprawled on her belly, weeping hysterically, her bottom swollen, the cheeks opening and contracting convulsively, kicking her pump-shod feet to and fro in the air as she tried to ease the fiery agony in her bare behind. Now all shame at being thus exposed had fled; pain dominated, gnawing and searing pain the like of which she had never before experienced.
And now, Miss X," Betty bent down to whisper, "we're going to keep our bargain. You'll get back the movie. I'm going to take you where you'll find it."
Sobbing loudly, Astrid slowly got to her feet, but not without the aid of two of the gleeful sisters. Still clad in only the bra, garterbelt, hose, and pumps, she was led by her wrists out of the recreation room and back up the stairs. Betty this time generously permitted her to remove the pumps so that she could negotiate the stone steps. But once they had reached the level of the pantry, she had to put them back on again. And then Betty led her down the hallway to a guest room, opened the door, and said, "Now you can ask Henry real sweet and nice for the movie, and I'm sure he'll give it to you."
She pulled the door shut behind the half-naked blonde matron who still wore the hood and whose wrists were still bound, the cord now trailing on the floor. Astrid Fullhan uttered a strangled cry of disbelief and shame- because standing there in front of her, naked except for socks, his penis in ferocious erection, was Henry Warren, a cigarette dangling between his lips. He had watched behind one of the shoji screens, and when Astrid had come at last to the end of her initiation, he had hurried up to the room to get ready for her. He lifted the canister of film in his right hand and showed it to her. "Here it is, Astrid baby! You earned it, but you'll have to be real sweet to me to get it."
"Oh please-you-you're naked-oh please -this is awful-I hurt so, oh please, let me put my clothes back on and go home-please, Mr. Warren-"
"Oh ho, so it's Mr. Warren now? Well, that's a good start. Come on, Astrid girl, you know you don't want to go home right now. Your ass is burning so much your pussy must be just as hot in front. Let's find out, shall we?"
He stooped, picked up the cord-leash, and yanked it as he moved towards the big double bed whose covers were already drawn.
"No-what are you going to do-no-oh my God, not that-oh this is horrible-it's unfair -you and Betty didn't say I would have to- oh no, let me go-aaahh-" Astrid Fullhan cried out as Betty's virile black-haired lover now grabbed her by the waist and forced her onto the bed, rolling her over onto her flaming, burning bottom. Instantly she rolled onto one side, crying out, "No, don't do this to me, oh please, oh no, let me go-haven't you done enough to me already?"
But Henry Warren was busy fitting a safe onto his rigid weapon, and then he mounted the bed and forced her onto her back again. Her hands were still bound, and she couldn't fend him off. Desperately she kept her thighs clenched tightly as she could, turning her face from side to side, until he whisked off the hood and grinned at her. "I like you, Four-eyes! You've got a nice big juicy ass and a fat little cunny I'm going to get into right now. But don't worry, Astrid honey, you won't get a baby. See this safe? Or doesn't your hubby wear one? Or maybe you don't even do it at all with him-anyhow, let's find out."
"Oh no, oh don't-help-oh someone- aaaahhhhrrrrr-" Astrid's frantic cries were smothered by his avid mouth coming down on hers. She wriggled and twisted, but she was no match for him. Deftly, he pressed the tip of his white-sheathed spear against the dark thick bush which shrouded her fleshy, quivering cuntal lips.
"Oh no-" With a supreme effort, she managed to twist her face away, but Henry Warren followed her, his hands now sliding under her burning, swollen buttocks and his fingers digging into the cheeks. As she opened her mouth to cry out in pain, his mouth again clamped over hers, and then he thrust himself and felt himself penetrate into the warm tight cavern of Astrid Fullhan's matronly but as yet unawakened cunt.
Her eyes bulged through the misted horn-rimmed glasses, and her nostrils flared wildly as she fought for breath. Her bound hands had tried to thrust forward and cover her threatened cuntal lips, but he had maneuvered to wedge his belly against them and prevent their descent until he had affected entry. With another thrust, he hilted himself inside her. Astrid's eyes rolled in their sockets, her head tilting back.
"God, you've got a tight box, Astrid baby," Henry Warren panted, "I'll bet you haven't had much regular fucking, have you?"
"Oh, don't-don't do it-oh I want to die- this is dreadful-you said I only had to be initiated-"
"And you are being initiated, baby, into hot old-fashioned fucking, just the kind that soft fat cunt of yours in dying for!" he savoringly finished for her. "Now if you're a good bitch, I'll untie your hands and then you can hold on tight. No? Okay, suit yourself. But make up your mind to it, Astrid baby, you're going to be right royally fucked as you've never been before!"
He squeezed the hot throbbing cheeks of her behind and drew a wild cry of anguish from her, and then clamped his lips over one thrusting nipplebud that strained against the gauzy bra. He began to suck at it, while halting inside her, feeling her cuntal walls clench and grip him spasmodically as if in abhorrent revulsion. Then gradually, he pulled his right hand out from under her behind and put his forefinger to the nodule of her clitoris and began to rub it very lightly.
Astrid Fullhan's head twisted to one side, her eyes glassy now, and supremely dilated. Her breasts had begun to heave convulsively, and now he slid the other hand out from under her and ripped the bra away. She was reduced to nylons, garter belt, her pumps already having been scuffed off as she fought and threshed against her young rapist.
Then his left hand once again thrust under her bottom, and this time the forefinger nudged towards the plump rosette of her virgin anus, pried between the crinkly, puckering lips, and entered up to the knuckle. A bawl of anguished shame tore from the frantic blonde matron, whose head turned from side to side, her ribboned pigtails dancing and tumbling this way and that. Now, his mouth fixed to one dark-rosy nipple, he began to suck avidly, and to thrust his delving forefinger back and forth inside her rectal sheath while with the other he plied her stiffening clitoris with expert touches.
Whimpering moans, mewling gasps, incoherent, babbling words tumbled from her panting mouth. He could feel her nipples stiffen against his lips as he continued to suck at them, and the frantic constriction of her rectal walls against his imbedded forefinger now surpassed the feverish contractions of her agitated cuntal walls against his deeply imbedded lance.
Each time he touched her clitoris, her loins and hips heaved and jerked under him, and then at last he began to draw his organ back and thrust it forward in the rhythm of primeval copulation.
Thus besieged throughout her erogenous system, the naked blonde matron shuddered violently. She began to whimper, her face turning this way and that with a restless, hasty compulsion. Her eyes were glazed and hugely widened behind the misted glasses, and her bound wrists jerked under him, rubbing his waist and chest, her fingers clawing her own flesh as well as his.
Now he had achieved a regularized rhythm; a deep long thrust, then a slow withdrawal, hovering at the brink of her fleshy, twitching cuntal lips, then a long hard dig to the hilt again. Moaning sobs and babbled, tumbling unintelligible phrases poured from her panting lips now, as her body seemed to buck and thrash and arch to him each time he dug into her, each time his finger hilted and then drew out of her clenching bottomhole, each time he tweaked and prodded and pressed down her hardened lovebutton.
He held himself back beyond his own abilities, wanting to conquer her totally, glorying in his mastery of this haughty, frigid, mature matron who had shamed his girl friend. Yet even so, he was cynically aware that if she hadn't intervened as she had, he might never have got to take both Betty Jurgens' delicious cherries and to achieve the coveted status of being her accepted lover.
But by now Astrid Fullhan was furiously awakened, her sinews, her nerves, and veins aglow with the multiple assault upon her carnal senses. Her head had fallen back, her eyes staring up at the ceiling unseeingly. Her naked breasts lifted and descended with tumultuous rhythm, both nipples glistening and stiff like spear points. And her clitoris had elongated and thickened, darkened from the erogenous blood drawn to its exquisitely membranous surface. The walls of her now seething cunt bound and clamped convulsively each time his weapon thrust deep between them.
And then, as he speeded up the work of both forefingers, as he quickened the cadence of his fucking, Astrid Fullhan suddenly managed to pull her bound wrists out from under him and to fling them over his head and then down against his back as she held him to her, and her nylon-sheathed legs locked frenetically over his sinewy buttocks as she began to thrust herself back and forth with him, grinding her loins to his, greedily seeking appeasement.
Her sobbing cry, strident and prolonged, announced her wanton awakening at last. . . .