Chapter 4

During the months that followed, Carol continued to visit Mr. Lecheur's apartment. Even after his leg knitted and he was able to remove the cast and take care of himself, she still came to see him two or three times a week, whenever he wanted her to. Because making his bed, doing his laundry, straightening up the apartment or even preparing his dinner were no longer the real reasons that she visited him. There was no longer any need for subterfuge. She went there to take care of his sexual needs ... and do it in any way he asked her to.

by mid-Spring, she had reached the point where she thought nothing of sucking him off, masturbating him, or having normal intercourse with him. It made no difference. She would open her blouse, or her dress, or roll up her sweater, take off her bra and let him nurse at her breasts. When the mood struck him, she would drop her panties and sit on the edge of a chair, or the floor, or a table, or the divan or lie on the bed and let him eat all the pussy that he wanted. In return, he paid her anywhere from three to five dollars every time that she came to see him; even more, if she needed something special. But after the first few practical things that she needed, such as dresses, coats, panties, bras, sweaters, shoes and pantyhose, she splurged on luxuries, such as costume jewelry, fake eyelashes and makeup. She even bought a blonde and a red wig to make her look different, as well as several pair of sheer-sheer nylons and a black lace garterbelt that Mr. Lecheur had her wear with nothing else when he wanted to feel especially horny.

At first, Carol was very careful about letting her mother see her in any of this new finery and kept most of the things downstairs in Mr. Lecheur's apartment. But after a while, she grew a little more daring and began to break out in her new clothes when her mother came home. When her mother asked her where she got the clothes, Carol told her the truth, that Mr. Lecheur bought them for her-but she didn't say the reason. To Carol's surprise and delight, her mother didn't seem to see anything wrong in a girl Carol's age receiving gifts from a man like Mr. Lecheur, or maybe she felt that the more he bought for her daughter, the less she would have to spend on the girl. So even if she continued to keep her libertine forays with Mr. Lecheur a secret, there was no reason for Carol not to wear her ill-gotten clothes to school, especially since her mother had reconciled herself to the fact that she could no longer deny that she had a growing daughter.

This marked change in Carol's appearance, coupled with the melting away of the last traces of her baby fat, and the fact that she had let her sleek black hair grow longer than shoulder length, didn't escape the notice of the males at school. Dates and invitations to parties became much more frequent. But even at sixteen, the age that she had now reached, Carol remained "true" to Mr. Lecheur. If she liked a boy well enough, she might go in for some open-mouthed kissing, or maybe let him put a hand down inside her bra, or up under the leg-band of her panties and feel her pussy. She might even go so far as to give him a "dry fuck" while saying goodnight to him, but that was it. Whether out of loyalty, or because she wanted to take no chance of killing the goose and cutting off her supply of golden eggs, that was where she drew the line for everyone, except for her benefactor.

In addition to all these rather remarkable changes that had taken place in her young life, Carol was no longer looked upon as a member of the "square set" at school. As a matter-of-fact, thanks to her sexual experiences with Mr. Lecheur, she became something of an authority on the subject and when she spoke-everyone listened. Her female classmates didn't have to resort to books to find out everything that they always wanted to know about sex. All they had to do was ask Carol and she would recite, graphically, details of her own experiences with Mr. Lecheur-without mentioning him by name, of course. This went on for quite a spell until one day, in late April, Olivia Grant overheard one of Carol's explicit, informative lectures on the subject of sex.

Olivia was one of the teachers at the high school that Carol attended. A tall, thirtyish spinster, Olivia had a figure that was more devoid of curves that most of her young students. However, with proper makeup and her mousy-colored hair arranged more flatteringly, instead of in the severe, pulled-back way that she wore it, she might have been rather attractive, because she had clean-cut, if somewhat bony features, expressive gray-green eyes behind her horn-rimmed glasses and a nicely shaped, full-lipped mouth. Olivia Grant was Carol's English teacher.

That same afternoon that Olivia Grant eavesdropped on Carol's discourse on sex, as the girl was leaving class, the teacher said, "Would you please wait a few moments, Carol? I'd like to talk with you."

When the last of the students had filed out of the room, Olivia got up and closed the door. Then she had Carol sit beside her at her desk. But strangely, she didn't mention a word about what she had overheard. Instead she took a folder from one of the desk drawers and spread it before her on the desk top. She said, "With the end of the school term only a couple of months away, I've gone over your record very carefully. I find that the credits you can receive from me will make the difference whether or not you are promoted. Of course, you could go to summer school and make them up. But I'm certain that a pretty and popular young girl like you could find more interesting ways to spend your vacation. Am I right?"

Carol wagged her head. "Yes, ma'am."

"Not only that," the teacher went on, "but you strike me as a far above-average young lady, who might aspire to something a great deal more than a mere humdrum existence. Am I correct in assuming that, too, darling?"

Again Carol nodded in accord, wondering what the teacher was leading up to.

"For someone like me to tell you this might sound ridiculous, since I have never married. But there have been reasons why I never did and, I assure you, that it was not because I didn't have the opportunity," Olivia imparted. "However, I have observed one truism and that is, if you must fall in love and you do marry, be judicious and remember this one bit of advice: it is just as easy to fall in love and marry a rich man, as it is a poor one."

"Yes, ma'am. My mother told me that."

"Good," the teacher said with a smile. "But did your mother tell you that it is much easier for a woman to find her rich man if she is well educated-providing, of course, she has all the other requisites that you have?"

"No, ma'am."

Olivia put her fingertips precisely together and studied the girl seated beside her for a long moment, then she said, "It isn't only that I'm a sentimentalist at heart and would like to see a girl with as many favorable qualities as you reach her goal, but it will be as much a discredit to me if you fail to get passing grades. It will mean I've failed you as your teacher. So, darling, if you're agreeable, I'd like to help you."

"Oh, I am, I am!" Carol assured the woman, emphatically.

Olivia smiled again, more intently. "Do you think you could arrange to come to my home, let's say, two nights a week, from now until the end of the term? We can begin tomorrow night and I'm sure we can make great strides."

Carol agreed to be at Olivia Grant's apartment the next night at seven.

"I would prefer, Carol darling, if this were kept quiet," was the teacher's parting shot. "I wouldn't want anyone to find out that I was showing preferential treatment-especially from any of your classmates."

The next evening at seven o'clock sharp, Carol stood in front of the door of Olivia Grant's frame house in the residential section of West Allis, about a mile from where she lived with her mother. She took a moment to smooth down the dress that she was wearing, made sure that her hair was neatly arranged, then she put her finger to the doorbell. There was a brief pause, then the door opened.

The teacher stood in front of her, smiling a gracious welcome. Carol couldn't help but be slightly taken aback to see Olivia in a lacy, white, almost transparent negligee; her brown hair combed out and hanging down almost to her shoulders, and without her glasses. Not only had Carol never seen the teacher looking like this, but it was also hardly the sort of, thing that she expected the woman to wear for a study session.

"Come in, Carol darling," Olivia said in her sweetest voice. And as Carol stepped across the threshold, the woman further amazed her by kissing her full on the lips. A warm, moist, soft-lipped kiss.

Whatever uneasiness that the kiss might have caused Carol, she blossomed into genuine apprehension when she felt the teacher's arm encircle her waist and the hand rest on her hip as Olivia walked her into the living room and toward the portable bar that stood in the far corner.

"Before we do any studying, I'm sure you'd like a drink," the teacher said as they halted at the bar. "What will you have, darling?"

"A-a Coke if you have one?"

Olivia nodded and went around behind the bar to pour Carol's drink as the girl climbed up onto one of the bar stools. It gave Carol an opportunity to glance around the living room. It was very nicely furnished to a woman's taste. And, by the way that the furniture was arranged and the drapes hung, it was obvious that Olivia Grant had a definite flare for the artistic. Only the oil paintings that adorned the walls injected a jarring note. Nudes and semi-nudes particularly of young females, none of them pornographic, yet each of them unmistakably depicting some mild feminine perversion. One showed two women in naked embrace. Another portrayed a woman cupping her partner's bountiful breasts from behind. A third had two lovely young girls close together in the bath.

"I see you're admiring my handiwork," Olivia interrupted as she came around from behind the bar and offered one of the two tall, iced drinks that she was holding to Carol. Olivia didn't get up onto one of the stools. She preferred to stand beside the girl, where she could look down at the liberal expanse of bare thighs that Carol's short skirt provided-with a great deal more than just passing interest.

Carol took the glass that Olivia held out to her and looked at the woman with profound surprise. "Did you paint those pictures, Miss Grant?"

Olivia smiled modestly. "One of my many well-guarded secrets," she said as she touched her glass to Carol's and took a sip. "Like them?"

"They're terrific!" Carol said alluding to the craftsmanship but with no mention of the embarrassing subject matter, as she put the glass to her lips and took a generous swallow. Immediately she choked, coughed and grimaced and held the glass away. 'This-this doesn't taste like Coke, Miss Grant?"

Olivia's smile deepened, almost impishly. "It's Coke, all right, darling. Coke with just a dash of rum in it."

Carol started to place the glass on the bar. "I-I don't think I ought to have any liquor, Miss Grant."

Olivia laughed amusedly. "Rum won't hurt you, darling. You're a big girl now. Drink up and we'll get busy with our studies." Again she touched Carol's glass with her own and proclaimed, "Here's to a very pleasant and fruitful relationship."

Carol faltered for a moment, then put the glass to her lips and swallowed. This time there was no choking, no coughing, no grimacing. In fact, the liquid was rather pleasant going down, made her tummy feel nice and warm. Olivia refilled both glasses, insisting that the Coke would go flat if they let it stand too long. This second drink Carol found even more palatable-even though it contained more than twice as much rum. It also made her feel considerably more relaxed, not nearly so tense and apprehensive. In fact, after a few moments, the paintings that had mildly shocked her began to take on a new glow, a new significance. She found herself wondering what it would be like to rub her naked body against that of another woman, to have a member of her own sex fondle her breasts.

She suddenly was aware of the teacher standing close beside her, draping an arm with studied nonchalance around her shoulders. She caught a whiff of the heady perfume that Olivia was wearing and, as the top of her negligee parted slightly, Carol got a close-up of the woman's conical, little-girl breasts that seemed to be almost all nipples and oversized areolas.

Olivia saw her looking and said, T don't have very much, do I, darling? I'd give anything to have breasts like yours."

Carol felt a mild return of apprehension when the woman punctuated her explanation with a kiss on the side of the neck close to her left ear, that sent shivers racing through her. But her concern was quickly dissolved in the quantity of alcohol that the woman had put into her drinks.

"Do you want to know a little secret, darling?" Olivia whispered. "Hear a little confession? Ever since I first saw you, long before you were even in my class, I've wanted to see your exciting breasts, your delightful young body-in the nude." She felt Carol stiffen and added quickly, 'To paint you, darling-to make you the subject of one of my oils." She hesitated a moment, waiting until Carol began to relax again. "I'm afraid I fibbed to you yesterday afternoon. It's true, I do want to help you with your studies, help you get a passing grade. But that isn't the only reason I asked you here. I wanted to see if I was right, if you are even lovelier naked and if you are, to pose for me."

The tenseness had almost completely gone out of Carol again, thanks to both the rum that she had consumed and the soft sincerity in Olivia's voice. She watched as Olivia's fingers slipped down from her shoulders and began slowly unbuttoning the front of her dress. Suddenly she grasped the woman's wrists.

"I-I don't know whether I should, Miss Grant," Carol said with embarrassment.

"It's no different than disrobing in front of the girls in the locker room at school," was the older woman's argument.

"Maybe-maybe it's because I'm sitting here, like this, at the bar," Carol groped.

Olivia smiled knowingly. "Of course, darling. You're so right. Come, let's go upstairs to my room where you'll feel much more comfortable."

Carol had no idea why she should feel any more at ease in the woman's bedroom than she did there in the living room. She had even less of an explanation why she obediently got down from the stool and went with the teacher across the living room to the door. She felt a little dizzy, she admitted, but she wondered if it was necessary for the woman to keep an arm around her waist-her fingers so close to the sides of her. large full breasts. Once or twice, the teacher even touched them, as they went up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Again, the room reflected the touch of an artistic woman with impeccable taste. The walls and ceiling were pink and off-white. The drapes at the windows and the furnishings followed the same color scheme. The focal point of the room, of course, was the queen-size canopied bed all done in pinkish frills and laces.

Olivia threw back the lacy spread and sat on the edge of the bed. She beckoned Carol forward. "Come, darling, stand here in front of me and let me undress you."

In spite of the fog of rum that hung in her brain, Carol took an uncertain step backward instead of forward.

Olivia frowned but she didn't allow herself to get too annoyed. "If it'll make you feel any less uncomfortable," she said simply as she unbelted her negligee, threw it open and let it slide down from her shoulders to the bed. 'There!"

Carol stared at the woman, sitting in front of her stark naked on the bed. Her slight rib-showing body looked even more immature than Carol's. Yet for such a skinny woman, she had rather meaty thighs and nicely shaped legs. She also had a considerable bush of thick, silky black hair that ran almost up to her belly-button and down between her legs.

"Make you feel any easier?" Olivia asked, unblushingly.

Carol wasn't sure that it did, or whether the woman's complete nudity made her feel even more uncomfortable. She took another step backward.

"Is this how you act in front of that man you visit?" Olivia hit her with.

"Man?" Carol echoed as her head cleared momentarily and fear replaced the cloudiness in her brain.

"Yes, Carol darling," the teacher replied with a sudden sharpness in her voice that made her sound more like the woman that Carol was used to hearing in the classroom. 'That man you were telling your girlfriends about yesterday afternoon. The man who taught you all those things about sex."

"I-I just made him up," Carol tried to bluff.

Olivia shook her mousy-colored head insistently. "No one could make up those things you told your friends, darling. They could come only from firsthand experience." Her voice softened, "Actually, my darling, I don't care who he is, or how many there were before him."

"There were no others," Carol blurted out, without thinking.

Olivia smiled at Carol's admittance and said, "I told you I don't really care, darling. If I did, I would have had your mother come to school and told her about it. All I want from you is to stop acting silly and do as I say. Now come closer."

Carol took a couple of mincing steps forward and halted directly in front of the woman. She was aware of the fog bank rolling back into her brain, muddying up her thinking again. She kept her hands at her side and stood submissively, making no attempt to stop Olivia's fingers from unbuttoning the front of her dress. She kept telling herself that all the woman wanted was to see what she looked like in the nude, to ascertain whether or not she would be a worthwhile subject to paint. She sincerely wanted to believe that. But in her heart, she knew differently. Once her clothes were off, it wouldn't stop there. The woman would want to make love to her and there was very little that she could do to stop her, now that she had told Carol that she knew about her affair with Mr. Lecheur-even if she might not have any idea who he was.

by now, Olivia had pulled Carol's short-sleeved dress down to the waist. The woman sat there looking up at the tautly filled bra for several moments, hungrily. Then she placed her hands on the girl's hips and turned her around so that she could reach the hooks at the back of her bra. Once the hooks were unfastened, she turned Carol to face her again, the straps of the bra hanging precariously from the girl's shoulders.

"Lean forward, darling," Olivia murmured.

Carol did as she was told and the straps slowly slipped down her arms and the cups slowly un covered her breasts. She could see Olivia's gray-green eyes, bright and shiny, as they fastened on her big, bared, dangling tits. The alcohol was really catching up with her now, making her feel giddy, causing her to sway slightly. "You're going to make love to me, aren't you, Miss Grant?"

"I'd like to," Olivia replied without evasion as she reached up and with gentle fingers cupped the girl's heavy, lush, white mounds of flesh, the deep pink nipples standing out like hard, wrinkled push-buttons against her sweaty palms.

Carol shivered under the woman's knowing touch and moved back quickly, reminding her, "I thought we were going to study."

"We have two whole months in which to study, darling," was Olivia's reply. 'Tonight I just want to get acquainted with you ... get to really know you."

The next thing that Carol knew, her dress was off and Olivia was pulling her down onto the bed beside her. Carol had nothing on except a pair of white lace panties that Mr. Lecheur had bought for her. She wished that the whooziness would go out of her head and she could think more clearly, as she brought the top sheet up over herself. Right now her brain was a whirlpool of confused, contradicting thoughts.

"This man you visit-tell me about him, darling?" Olivia whispered as she reached under the covers and clasped the girl's hand warmly. "Do you enjoy having sex with him?"

"Sometimes," Carol replied, not entirely sure why she had let the woman worm such an intimate confession out of her, so easily.

"Have you ever been made love to by another woman?" Olivia asked as she brought her other hand over and placed it on Carol's hip.

The girl shook her black-thatched head and became aware of the teacher's hand stroking her hip, then sliding lightly over her thinly covered cuntal area.

"That's the difference, darling," Olivia murmured. "With a woman it wouldn't be only sometimes-you'd enjoy it always."

Now the hand slid upward to Carol's left breast. The fingers spread wide in an impossible attempt to enclose the full swollen mass of firm, soft pink-white flesh. Carol's intake of breath was sharp.

Olivia caressed Carol's breast gently, fingers tormenting the hardened nipple, the puckered areola. She moved a little closer and kissed the girl's cheek, close to the corner of her mouth as she moved her hand over to the other breast to find its nub already aroused. Little by little, Carol's high, full breasts were uncovered.

All Carol's fears rushed back into her brain in a torrent. Olivia's touch was exciting her. The gentle hand was so soft and sure, the touch so light and delicate-so different from Mr. Lecheur's hard, bony hands. The rum had relaxed her, given her the false courage to allow this. But now with her passion aroused and her breathing grown ragged, she could only imagine what was going to happen. Since it was inevitable, she found herself wishing that the woman would stop teasing ... that the hand on her breasts would move down her body and that she would kiss her tingling nipples. She stirred restlessly.

"You excite easily, darling, same as I," Olivia said, her voice thickening with desire as she let go of Carol's hand and rose on her elbow to lean over her. 'That's very good. That means we'll have lots of good times together."

Carol saw Olivia's head loom over her. She waited and held her breath, then felt the first contact of lips. She let her own lips soften and mold to Olivia's. She tasted the sweetness, the warmth of another woman's mouth. She experienced a terrific hunger for air in her lungs. Her nostrils flared. She needed no urging to part her lips and accept Olivia's hot, inquisitive tongue.

Carol moaned with ecstasy. Her breasts felt as if the nipples would burst, if they weren't soon kissed. Her stomach was constricted with a fierce urgency.

She tore her mouth free and sucked air into her lungs. Her mind was no longer dulled, but somehow it didn't matter. Her vulva had been sparked by that kiss. She threw the sheet down to her waist.

Olivia accepted the invitation, willingly, and placed her warm wet mouth to Carol's left nipple, tightening her lips on it and sucking hungrily. It was impossible for Carol to hold back a deep sigh of pleasure. It felt so good, so very good! She couldn't remember herself getting this hot with Mr. Lecheur, or any of the boys that she had allowed to fondle her breasts. Oh, God, if only-if only the woman would touch her down there.

Almost as if Olivia had heard her silent wish, her gently hand began moving downward, sliding over the velvety skin of the girl's tense belly, stretching the elastic waistband of her panties and then moving down inside. Instinctively, Carol brought her legs together as she felt the insistent hand creep through the silken hair that covered her mound. Olivia made no comment but kept her mouth fastened to Carol's left nipple, sucking with as much relish as if the girl's breasts could give milk.

As spontaneously as she had brought her thighs together, Carol parted them again as she felt Olivia's hand move down between them to brush softly over her throbbing, wet pussy lips. Without further hesitation, Olivia pushed a rigid finger into Carol's cuntal orifice.

Carol lifted herself, arching her back in answer to the wave of liquid pleasure that was washing through her nerves at the woman's seductive touch. The panting young girl hung there for a long moment, paralyzed by the beautiful sensations of complete sexual arousal that the older woman's finger was bringing her as she moved it in ever widening circles, stretching the vaginal opening wider and wider until she was able to wedge a second finger up into the hole.

Carol dropped back onto the bed and squirmed uncontrollably. The mouth on her tit and the hand in her cunt were going to make her cum! It wouldn't take two minutes ... or even one minute....

Olivia's mouth came to her lips again ... the hot serpent-like tongue ... the maddening fingers. Carol began to twist and turn more violently with the sensation. She had never been so high in her life before. Never!

Olivia pulled back, her mouth hovering just above Carol's, so close that the girl could feel the woman's panting breath, T love you, darling," Olivia purred. "You're so sweet and young and lovely. Now I'm going to show you what it's like to be made love to by a member of your own sex."

With the first sliding movement downward, the first kiss on her body, Carol knew what was going to happen. Panic streaked through her with the terrible thought that she might like it ... too much! That Olivia might make her become a lesbian like herself, because there was no doubt now in her mind that that was what the school teacher was. Carol didn't want to become a lesbian, because then she wouldn't want a man and that would keep her from achieving her goal.

"No, Miss Grant ... don't ... please no! I don't want you to do that to me!" she cried out.

But it was too late! A terrible weakness, a fierce urgency came over her with Olivia's kiss on the underside of her left breast ... then on her stomach ... on her belly-button. A slight movement and the tip sheet was gone. A gentle tug and Carol's panties were gone, too.

"No ... Please ... I don't want you to!"

"Of course you do."

Carol couldn't resist Olivia's lips as they kissed along the satiny insides of her thighs. She opened them wider, enough for the woman to get her mousy-colored thatched head between them. She lay there on her back, helplessly, breathing fast, deep, her mouth parched, her eyes staring up blankly at the ceiling.

She moaned as she felt the first brush of Olivia's tongue over the partly open, moist outer lips of her vagina, licking from her perineum all the way forward to the throbbing clitoris standing stiffly in the bow of her boat. She licked Carol's ultra-sensitive clit a few times, bringing the flat of her tongue over it. Then she moved her tongue down the insides of the girl's spreading, pink-lined lips, then darting in and out of her hole. But mainly she concentrated on the clitoris and upper lips, lapping and washing them with her saliva.

Carol was panting, moaning, twitching her buttocks around on the mattress, hanging onto the back of Olivia's head with both hands. Mr. Lecheur had performed cunnilingus on her many times, but it had never been like this. Never! Olivia was kissing and licking and sucking now, working on Carol's pussy as only another woman could, knowing precisely where and when to nibble and apply the pressure.

"Ooohhh ... God...." Carol cried out in wild abandon and thrust her pussy up against Olivia's mouth; her legs quivered and chills ran along her spine as a volcano erupted in the depths of her interior, threatening to tear apart her belly and scatter her guts!

With a supreme effort, Carol mustered every last ounce of strength inside her body and pushed the woman's head from between her legs. Then she lay there on her back, for eternal moments, unable even to think until her climax had receded.

"Was that enjoyable enough, my darling?" Olivia asked as she moved up and kissed the girl's mouth, the residue from Carol's orgasm still on her lips.

Carol made no answer.

Another kiss and Olivia said, "Now it's my turn."

Carol was a little repulsed at the thought. "You mean-me-do you?"

"Turnabout is only fair play, darling," Olivia said, panting heavily. "You surely wouldn't want to leave me like this?" She moved a little higher on the bed so that her conical breasts hung directly above Carol's face.

Carol looked up at them. She had always wondered what the big deal sucking a woman's breasts was all about. Now she was about to find out, as Olivia lowered herself slowly and dragged her right nipple over her partly opened mouth. Carol touched her tongue to the tip of it and Olivia squealed. The next instant, the pointed tit was in her mouth and she was pulling at it. She couldn't understand why it excited her so, unless it was the teacher's response, the way that she was wiggling and the sounds of pleasure that she was making. Certainly there was no taste to it, no nourishment.

Olivia took as much of the suckling as she could stand, then she shifted around until she was straddling Carol's head in the familiar "69" position that Mr. Lecheur had taught her.

Deliberately, Carol turned her head to the side to avert looking at the woman's cunt. For one awful moment, Carol told herself that she couldn't continue. What Olivia was asking her to do was completely against her nature, obscene, unnatural. It was for lesbians to do-and she wasn't one! She wasn't!

And then she felt the teacher's smooth, soft, knowledgeable tongue against her cuntal lips, arousing her again, filling her with lust, making her want to cum again! The warm feel of the downy insides of the woman's thighs against her cheeks, checked her panic. She forced herself to turn her head and look up at the totally naked pussy which Olivia was presenting to her.

She never really saw any female genitalia other than her own and the size of Olivia's cunt amazed her. It was slippery wet and --rimmed with thick, coarse black hair, much darker than the hair atop her head. But it was immaculately clean and smelled nice, too, since Olivia had sprayed it with a raspberry-flavored vaginal deodorant.

In a way, it was exciting and very tempting, and the timidity that Carol had felt before gradually grew weaker as she saw the rawly open slit coming closer and closer. Its lips were stretched wide apart, its complex of vulnerable flesh yielding up its deepest secrets.

Slowly, Carol raised her head to meet the descending cunt, pursing her lips and pressing them into the warm, wet bog to kiss the heart of the woman's most precious treasure. The sweet ness of the raspberry flavoring, blending with the intimate musk, presented a scent and a taste that was indescribable. Carol closed her eyes and just let her senses drift away.

She was aware of Olivia wrapping her arms around her and doing a complete rollover on the big bed, ending up with Carol on top and herself underneath, without even losing contact. If that was how the teacher wanted it, she had no objections. Right now she was concentrating entirely on the sense of touch and smell-ignoring all thought as to whether what she was doing was right or wrong. She applied herself wholly to the kissing and sucking of Olivia's throbbing, thoroughly inundated cunt, nibbling on the flaccid flanges, licking the clitoris, trying to remember all the things that the woman had done to her-and slowly becoming oblivious to everything else.

So deeply did Carol fall into this delirium of pleasure that she didn't hear a third party enter the room and climb onto the bed behind her. Even when she felt a hand caressing her back and hips and upturned buttocks, she thought that it was Olivia's hands.

It wasn't until she felt hard, ungentle fingers spreading apart her buttocks, traveling the length of her rear crease and then dipping into her tightly puckered asshole, that she suddenly realized that someone else was on the bed with her and Olivia. It jolted her back to sharp reality!

"Miss Grant!" she screamed in terror and made a desperate effort to try to look over her shoulder and see who it was. But the way that Olivia was clinging to her made the movement impossible. "Someone is on the bed with us. Someone is-"

"It's only Simon," Olivia said calmly, momentarily lifting her mouth from the girl's twat.

"Simon?" Carol echoed shrilly.

"My brother."

New horror streaked through Carol as she felt the hands of Olivia's brother still spreading apart the cheeks of her bottom, as far as possible. Then he leaned forward and Carol was shocked beyond words to feel his tongue start at the rear of her cunt, where his sister was sucking madly, and lick right up to the base of her spine, then down again to concentrate lasciviously on the hard, taut bump of Carol's anus. These were sensations that Carol had never experienced before and they were almost more than her mind and body could endure.

Oh, please, Miss Grant, make him stop!" Carol cried, struggling to get away from between the two of them. "You don't know what he's doing to me."

"I know," Olivia responded, unmoved, as she returned her mouth to Carol's pussy.

"Then make him stop! Please make him stop!" Carol yelled almost hysterically, moving helplessly now with the double thrill that they were bringing her.

"Stop? I can't make him stop, Carol darling. And if I were you, I wouldn't try, either," Olivia told her. "Simon gets very violent when people don't let him have his way. That's why I have to keep him locked up in his room most of the time."

Locked up in his room? Carol shivered in an ecstasy of fear. If he had to be locked up-! Merciful God-what had she gotten herself mixed up in?

She was too frightened now even to try to move, as she felt Simon applying a soft, smooth, jellylike substance to the exterior and interior of her anus, pushing his fingers in and out of the hole, trying to spread her as much as possible. Then she felt the heart of his cock against the backs of her thighs and her buttocks. The next thing she realized, he was pushing the greased head into her stranglingly tight asshole, ramming it upward.

She let out a scream of pain and tried to pull away from him. But the way that Olivia was holding her made escape impossible. Besides, it was too late to struggle. Already the slippery glans of Olivia's none-too-bright, lust-aroused brother's cock had wedged its way past the dry, muscle-tightened membranes of her anal opening and was now well into her aperture. One thing in her favor, he wasn't oversized, or he would have ripped her apart. As it was the pain was excruciating, as he kept pushing into her rectum, relentlessly. She made one last futile attempt to free herself, by shaking her buttock violently. But he was embedded too deeply inside her. Then he began to pump against her, faster and faster as his sister kept lashing away at Carol's cunt with her tongue.

Carol went limp and docile for long moments, letting the two of them have their way with her. She tried to ignore the pain that the unaccustomed invasion of her anus was causing her, tried not to feel either of them, or even think of what they were doing to her. But more and more, she became aware of the reblossoming of her arousal.

Slowly, the pain grew into pleasure that heated her brain and the perverted use of her body was gradually forgotten. She was ashamed and hated herself for being so weak, for allowing herself to enjoy it, even a little. But gradually the pleasure became so intense that it overcame her protests and her aversions and she dropped her head between Olivia's splayed legs and resumed sucking on the woman's cunt with a new vigor and vengeance.

She felt Olivia's first orgasm catch on, felt the spasming of her clit and cunt walls, tasted the fresh flow of warm, slick juice that the climax induced. She didn't let up. She kept sucking and chewing, poking at the woman's hole with her fingers until Olivia came again.

That was when she became aware of a blinding, building pressure in her loins, a shimmering bubble of expectancy in her belly. And then-at the very height of her rapture with her brain seething and her body as hot as an acetyelene torch, Simon blasted his load into her rectum, flooding her canal to overflowing, his sperm flowing out of her anus at both sides of his spurting cock to dribble down the insides of her widespread thighs.

So violent was the explosion inside her that it jarred loose her own orgasm, filling her with sensations that were more than her body could stand. With a long, loud moan she collapsed against the woman beneath her and lay there shaking and quivering as a complete and impregnable blackness swept every conscious thought from her bursting mind....

Once she recovered consciousness, it didn't take Carol very long to find out that while Simon wasn't a raving maniac, who needed the confinement of a padded cell, he was imbecilic enough for Olivia to keep him out of circulation. He also was a satyrist of the first order. Before the night was very far along, Carol learned, too, that while Olivia was an over-sexed lesbian, in her own right, she did what she could to accommodate her brother's sexual needs-with no guilt complex regarding incest. However, he often got too much for even her abnormal capacity and she brought in girls, like Carol, to service him.

Throughout the long, maddening, mind-racking night, the two of them shared Carol. Every time he could get the bone back into his tireless, by now beet-red organ, Simon fucked the sixteen-year-old girl like a sex-starved stallion at stud. During the intervals, his sister made love to her. At times the two of them went to work on her together.

When dawn finally brightened the drawn shades in Olivia's upstairs bedroom, Carol's body ache, every ounce of vitality drained from it. Even then, they didn't leave her alone to sleep.

"It's time for you to get up now, darling, and get on home," Olivia told her. "We wouldn't want your mother to worry about you."

Then Simon carried Carol into the bathroom, and stood her under the shower. But the sight of the water splashing down on her naked, white, young, big-breasted body proved too much for him and his sister. So he knelt behind Carol and his sister knelt in front of her and they brought the half-delirious girl again to orgasm by using their tongues on her twin holes.