Chapter 1
SODOMY, MURDER AND STRANGE RETRIBUTION
July 21, 1971 was recorded as the hottest day in the history of Marine County. The treacherous winding road to Stinson Beach was crowded with hordes of automobiles with city folks retreating to the beaches. Hal Goodman, driving his MG, thought it was much too hot to be working. But he had promised to drop off some important papers at the home of one of his clients. Hal Goodman was an accountant for J. H. Harrington Corporation. J. H. Harrington owned a beach home on the outskirts of Stinson Beach. Customarily, such a trip on a Saturday morning would not have been necessary. But J. H. Harrington was out of town on business. It was imperative that Goodman have Mrs. Harrington's signature on a series of documents. Hal Goodman would have much rather spent his day basking in the sun. In a strange way he resented wealthy people, in spite of the fact that he was himself in a higher income bracket.
Hal Goodman arrived at the Harringtons' home at 10:45. Mrs. Harrington was waiting for him on the patio. From the patio there was a splendid view of the ocean and the beach that stretched for miles in either direction.
"Isn't this a gorgeous day, Hal? I can't believe it's this hot. It must be over 90 degrees," said Mrs. Harrington. She sipped orange juice as she signed the last of the legal documents.
"You don't know how lucky you are to have this beautiful home on the beach. You have the whole Pacific Ocean for a back yard."
"Well. Believe me my husband and I worked plenty hard to get here. You remember that, Hal. If you want something in this world you have to go after it!"
The Harringtons' daughter, Sandy came onto the patio.
"Hi, mom! Hi, Mr. Goodman. Mom, I'm going down to the beach now. Okay?"
Mrs. Harrington looked up and gave a final inspection to the bikini her fourteen-year-old daughter was wearing. Mrs. Harrington, the strict mother, restrained her comments since Goodman was present.
"Where are you going, darling? Aren't any of your friends going along? You know I don't like to have you bathe alone." She turned to Goodman. "You see, we have to be careful. Most of this area is private beach-but the people have no regard for people's property so they intrude on our privacy. On days like today when it's so hot, we get flooded with drifters, and the likes. I don't like Sandy to sunbathe alone."
"Oh, mother! Who's going to bother me? Besides, I know a secluded place just down the beach. No one ever comes there. Okay?"
"All right. But don't stay out there too long. You know you burn easily. And be careful and take Chula along with you."
Chula was the Harringtons' German shepherd. Hal Goodman looked at Sandy and Chula trotting off down the beach. It was always a treat to see little Sandy Harrington. Each time he visited the Harringtons' home he became sexually aroused. Sandy might be only fourteen but she was a shapely little miss. When she first came out this morning in the orange bikini, Gordon nipped. There should be a law preventing girls as sexy as Sandy from wearing bikinis; especially if they were as well stacked.
Sandy Harrington had beautiful, curvaceous legs and the bikini encasing them made her look like a dream. He saw the bulge which told him Sandy must have a lot of pubic hair. Her cunny bulged so much that it appeared she had a penis down there.
Hal Goodman had thought about trying to fuck Sandy many times. Of course, there was never any opportunity. Although there had been times when the Harringtons left Sandy alone. But there were servants about. Yeah, but pussy like Sandy wasn't meant for people like himself. That was top-notch Grade-A stuff -that commoners had no right to. Then he thought of what Mrs. Harrington had said to him, "If you want something-you have to go at it!"
At 11:45 Sandy Harrington was seen going into the liquor store to buy cigarettes. She came out the store and double-backed toward the beach. The dog, Chula, ran playfully through the sand ahead of her.
Hal Goodman was not the only man who was aroused by young Sandy. Most of the neighbors along the Marina Coast had seen her strutting down the beach. That morning a great many heads turned in her direction. There was not a man she passed, who did not notice how she strutted her stuff. She was indeed a sexy package. The narrow waistline made her buttocks look all the more enticing. Her small behind swept low and cupped sharply into soft balls-buttocks that swished around inside her bottoms. They rotated as she emphasized the sway of her hips. The bikini was snug into her center and made her flesh bounce when she walked. The bikini was so sheer one could see where her vagina was a long slit burrowing into those sweet thighs.
The men she passed must have thought Sandy had a stick shoved up her rear, and she was stepping cool and easy, trying her best not to bruise anything. It was bad enough that her precious little buttocks were so round and soft, but they also quivered with her every step. She had a way of adding a little spice to her gait, that swished her fatty cheeks and set off the motion. Her tits would be repeating the motion, only in the reverse gear. Sandy Harrington was a symphony of sweet music being stirred up against her will; Mother Nature had given her a difficult course to travel. The sexuality of her young willing body said that her mind was weak-and ready to defect to her rebellious nature.
The sun was warm on her body as Sandy stretched out on a blanket. It was so pleasant and nice this morning-and there were not a great many people on the beach as her mother suspected. No one knew this place. Sandy raised up for just a moment to see what mischief her dog, Chula, was into. He had disappeared somewhere. She looked in back of her up the hill where there was a thicket of cypress trees. Chula was probably up there chasing something. She lay back down and closed her eyes. The sun was beautiful.
Then suddenly-from out of nowhere a towel came down over her head. Before Sandy could react, there was a strong arm around her neck-choking the breath from her. She tried to fight but the hands which held her were strong. She could not scream. She twisted and squirmed in the sand-until she felt a hard blow strike the back of her head . . . and from then on it was like a horrible nightmare.
The attacker dragged her body behind a boulder where he could not be seen from the road above. He would take his sweet time now; enjoy this brand-new pussy as he had so long wanted to.
He ripped away her bra and squeezed the titties. He saw the expression of pain over her face. He tightened the gag to make sure she would not scream. He checked to see if there was any chance of her getting free of the rope around her wrists. There was not.
His penis came out of his pants and he pushed between her legs. The mysterious attacker knew Sandy was virgin pussy and he was careful to make the fit just right. When his penis flushed into her narrow slit, he felt a surge go through his body. It was steaming red hot! An animal sound came forth and he shoved his long cock into her pussy. Sandy groaned and wrenched her hips from side to side-trying to prevent the penis from piercing all the way up her channel.
"Hold still, you bitch! You little cunt-teaser. I've wanted your pussy for the longest-"
The more she twisted, the more savagely he screwed her. His dick fucked in and out to break her spirit. Harder and deeper he fucked. He felt his penis jamming her bottom-ripping out her insides. He was determined to make her feel the pleasure his shaft was receiving.
He tried to kiss her-but he had gagged her. In angry frustration he struck her across the face. Blood spurted from her busted ear, and she bucked to throw him off. He loved every moment of it-a young cunt that was a fighter. He hit her again, to instill the fact that he was her master. As he slapped her, first one cheek, then the other, he fucked simultaneously. He shot off. Then he snatched his penis from her hole, huffing and puffing, watching his semen spill over her tan stomach . . . how it ran down the soft, fine muscles of her center and spilled back into her slit.
He raised up on his knees and stretched her pussy as wide as it would go. He saw how it was pulsating-he had not gotten it all from her. That's the way young bitches were-they needed to be balled from day into night-to fuck away the last horny juices! They were all prick-teasers. With that thought in mind he whammed her for good measure; he wanted to hear her scream. That was all a part of the ritual, as the shooting off of his semen.
He moved his body up near her face and slapped his penis on the side of her face. His penis rose again, semen splattered weakly.
Again he fucked her. His dick melted into her pussy again and this time she was weakening. He fucked her long and hard until she began to rotate against him. He saw her muscles as if she was about to come with him. His hands moved over her breasts, grabbing them like rubber balls! Sandy moaned and pulled away from his arms and flipped her hair back. She was a haughty bitch full of breeding, even while being raped. He liked that.
He looked down on her body, the golden tanned face and the blue, sexy, exotic eyes. They were the eyes of a wild animal, a female protecting herself in the crudest form of self-preservation. Her thighs gapped open around his waist with his penis pumping in and out of her pussy. It was sheer madness watching her squirming while he raped her good!
He gave her straight shots as hard as he could. It jarred her enough to make her body t: emble; a sensation that traveled the length of her body to the tips of her nipples! Sandy sank deeper into a web of ecstasy and the animal inside of her cried out until her body shook with delight.
The trembling body told him that she was afraid he would tear her insides more. It was such a narrow channel. He took her by the ass and positioned her the way he wanted. Her buttocks kept sliding and slipping out of his hands and she was a bundle of wiggles. Each wiggle was as though she was bursting her rocks! She squirmed and twisted her ass, trying to move against his penis. He fucked harder to settle her down. She whined through the gag in a discouraging moan and lay back, still. Then he raised her hips so her knees were around his neck.
"Now-let's see how much dick you can take!" he snarled.
Sandy groaned and kicked in the sand, completely out of control. He hit her again across the face. Then he ripped off the gag.
"If you scream for help, I'll kill you!"
"Please, you're hurting me-"
"It's supposed to hurt. Tell me it's good!"
"It hurts!"
"You like this big hairy dick of mine, don't you? "
"Yes . . . I love it . . . I'll say anything you want. Only don't kill me. Please!"
"Then give this pussy up. Open your legs wide-give it all to me!"
"You're making me bleed down there-"
"Shut up! Has anybody ever fucked you before?"
"No," she cried.
"Good! Then my cock is the first and I'm gonna make sure I get it good!"
"Please, let me up . . . "
"You better fuck me back or I'll slit your goddamned throat!"
She obeyed instantly-her head went back and her ass thrust back onto his monstrous-sized shaft, already digging between her pert buttocks; spreading and enveloping his penis with so much warmth that it was soul stirring! His hands held her tits in front like a cowboy would use the reins on a bucking filly! He turned her over, face down into the sand with her ass sticking up!
"That's right, now we're gonna get it from the rear. Just like dogs fuck-satisfy my dick!"
He saw her ass and how her pussy hung down between her deliciously fat buttocks. He saw the red pinhole of her asshole and that deep widening gap of her slit. The lips around her pussy hole were pink and swollen from the enormous stiff fucking he had given her. It was now waiting for that good sphere to come into her again. She was forced to wiggle violently with impatience. For just a second she looked back over her shoulder while bracing herself on her elbows. In that brief moment her face said enough to make him spurt a load of semen. Little Sandy was preparing to fuck for her life!
He slapped her hard across the ass. Then he rolled her cheeks in his hands like rubber and stretched them apart. Sandy's head buckled and she screamed out loud.
"Shut up! This ain't gonna hurt much!"
He struck her again and saw the billows of flesh tremble with the baby's softness. He beat her down along her hips and inside her thighs until she was a wild thing not knowing what the hell to do! Still he had not put his cock in her back there. He jabbed his penis against her clitoris. Then he took another big handful of her ass and spread it apart and jabbed his dick slowly into her narrow snatch, all the way, until her shallow anus was filled to the brim. He went crazy seeing that only half the length of his penis was in her; there was a good five inches left!
It was the most forbidden of all crimes, in his mind, to violate the tender asshole of a virgin girl. The world moved beneath him as he felt the shattering experience of sliding in and out of her juicy asshole. There was pressure from all sides of her rectum-it was muddy-it was gritty-it was hot enough to burn his dick to a standstill, nearly spurting to a full climax. You did not have to rape a virgin's asshole because it raped any instrument that came into it!
There was a chocolate brown substance over his shaft.
It was a wild frantic moment. All he knew was that he was pushing in as far as he could go. An explosion rose within him. He humped her as fast as he could-swelling her rectum twice its size until she buckled up in pain. She fell flat in the sand, her body collapsing in sheer orgasm. That quickly Sandy had been made to climax. Now she was as he wanted her-empty and drained. Her female's arrogance was void, and her asshole would be ripe for fucking now, after this.
They struggled in the sand. Sandy decided she would rather die than let him violate her rear again. Strange-but in her frantic struggling she understood now why the vagina was so important. She managed to make such a fight of it, the attacker shifted his cock into her vagina.
He became a mad creature. Over and over again, he fucked her pussy, plugged up her hole until there wasn't room for her to even breathe; she held her breath wondering how much more this crazy man wanted. He closed his eyes and savored the beautiful lines of her round flowing buttocks forming two buttermilk balls to cushion his driving penis, and semen shot from his cock with a great urgency, when he heard Sandy's passionate, pitiful cry; like a female animal being raped by an enraged bear!
The madness of it all was proving too much for her and she fought to get out of his hold. She managed to break free and scrambled across the clearing trying to get away, to stop the merciless fucking. But the attacker raced around the boulder to catch her and threw her back down on the sand. He held her by the wrists and put them high over her head and stepped in behind her ass. He wanted to fuck her asshole standing up. His dick was then like a ramrod, determined to finish the rape.
"Please-I can't take any more. Let me go! Let me go!" She panted, feeling him rotate his body over her pussy, his stiff dick virtually lifting her off the ground. It was too much dick to take again. Sandy went limp and he had to hold her up, never stopping his frantic rhythm for a second, his penis going full steam ahead.
Suddenly, there were sounds from above the ridge. Someone was coming their way. He didn't stop fucking. He just looked over at the ridge-fighting to get his last nut. He snatched it out of Sandy's asshole and turned her around. He grabbed her face with both hands and shoved his cock in her mouth-to let it go off again. He drained his last drop into her.
He turned just in time to see the intruder. A teenaged boy. The boy couldn't believe his eyes. He moved to help Sandy and then felt a hot, stinging pain enter his chest. He spun on his heels and fell into the sand. The attacker then turned to Sandy. She could identify him. Too bad the boy had to stumble along when he did-now there could be no witness left . . .
The body of Sandy Harrington and the teenaged boy, Leslie Baker, was found at 7:35 that evening. The investigation was conducted by Inspector Sam Damon. The crimes were a mystery; anyone could have committed them. The beach area had been crowded that day. Inspector Damon checked the witnesses who had seen Sandy at the liquor store earlier that day. The inspector came up with a blank.
There was another mystery that baffled them -what had become of Sandy Harrington's dog, Chula?
J. H. Harrington, crushed by the death of his daughter, offered a one-hundred-thousand-dollar reward for information that would lead to the capture of the murderer. Two months passed and there was nothing, although the police continued their investigation. Chances were the crimes were committed by an unknown person passing through the state. The inspector concluded this, realizing that during the summer months the coastline was plagued by thousands of college students and hippie types. Not two months before the Sandy Harrington case, a mass murder was committed in Yuba City. The inspector feared the state might be in for an epidemic of senseless murders.
It was nearly three months before Hal Goodman returned to the Harringtons' home again. As always, it was a matter of great urgency, there were important papers to be signed. Mr. and Mrs. Harrington received him on the patio where they finished off the business. The Harringtons noted that Hal Goodman was extremely nervous, breaking into a cold sweat. Goodman quickly excused himself.
Hal Goodman collected his papers and stuffed them into his attaché case. He said good-day to the Harringtons and had just turned to leave when suddenly he screamed in terror!
The Harringtons turned to see what had frightened Goodman. They saw their dog, Chula, attacking Goodman about the throat. J. H. Harrington shouted to the dog to retreat. Before they could aide Hal Goodman, the dog had ripped his throat open. Hal Goodman was dead. The dog trotted away, licking the blood from his mouth. The dog fell dead when he reached the end of the patio.
It was after the confusion had died down that J. H. Harrington realized that the dog that attacked Goodman was not their Chula. But the dog did resemble Chula. "Why it's not our dog at all. I wonder why he attacked poor Goodman that way?"
Inspector Damon, who was not a superstitious man, could only offer one solution to the mysterious attack on Gordon. "I've been a cop for twenty-five years. I've seen them stranger than this. You know, no matter how much leg work we cops do, tracking down maniacs and killers-the cases we can't solve always seem to work themselves out. You see, killers have to live with themselves. So I guess there must be a higher institution of peacemakers up there on the other side . . . "
Although officially, the murders were never solved, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington somehow felt that justice had been avenged.