Chapter 9
Margaret's heart was beating like mad by the time she got to Sherry's house. And it wasn't from walking fast either. She felt guilty about what she was going to do to Sherry. But Margaret didn't have any choice.
Margaret was dressed casually and she carried a small grocery bag. To a passerby, she looked like just one more suburban housewife on her way to visit a friend. Or perhaps bearing a gift.
But Margaret was hardly the average housewife. For one thing, her cunt had been continually wet since meeting Gordon. A second did not go by when she did not think of his massive cock plowing into her portholes.
But recently, her daydreams had taken on a different configuration. Sherry had entered the picture. And though Margaret had learned to tolerate Sherry, sex was still not the same thing it used to be. She was jealous of the younger woman. Jealous and scared. Because Gordon was paying a lot more attention to the teenie bopper than to her.
Margaret decided to take action into her own hands.
Standing outside the ramshackle two story house, balling her fists to ease the tension that racked her body, Margaret had misgivings. She had a right to be upset. But after all Sherry was only a child. It was one thing to punish Sherry for encroaching on her territory. Her man. But what Margaret had in mind was . . . well, drastic.
Maybe Sherry isn't home, Margaret thought. Then the door opened, and then the small blonde-haired girl appeared, her familiar, angelic face beaming incandescently back at Margaret. And she laughed to herself. Because Margaret realized she was capable of everything.
"Did you want some coffee, Mrs. Jackson?" Sherry asked. It was a surprise seeing her so early. Sherry half expected Gordon and her heart was still pounding like a hammer inside her chest. Now the excitement had turned to fear.
Mrs. Jackson was a big woman and without Gordon there to protect her, Sherry felt weak and helpless. And Mrs. Jackson was not the friendly type. Her tiny breast still ached from Margaret's mouth. A small red splotch had appeared around the nipple and didn't go away for several days.
Since Gordon had stuck his big cock into her tiny hole and made her a woman, Sherry was not the same little girl. And Margaret was not the nice, neighborly woman she had been. Perhaps Margaret was jealous of sharing Gordon. But that was silly because Sherry didn't mind sharing him with another woman. She didn't mind in the least bit.
Out in the kitchen, Sherry rinsed out a coffee mug and dumped in a heaping spoonful of instant coffee while the water came to a boil. Steam swirled up as the dark powder turned black as ebony wood when the water was added.
When she took the steaming mug into the living room though, Sherry had a surprise coming.
"Put the mug down on the table, Sherry," Margaret said, her voice was harsh and grating. And her eyes stared down like burning coals.
They looked at each other and Sherry felt a curious weakness in her crotch. The tiny blonde hairs, just beginning to darken on her twat tingled. She was all wet and loose all of a sudden and if Margaret had been Gordon, there was no doubt that he could have stuck his big, hairy thing up her crack with ease.
"Are you frightened of me?" asked Margaret. In the girl's absence Margaret had locked all the doors and drawn the shades in the living room. Not that this precaution was necessary. The girl was half in shock. She was not going to run anywhere on those quivering, rubbery legs.
Margaret stared at her and the blood rose in her face. She was suddenly nervous as a virgin going to a drive-in movie. She wasn't deceiving herself anymore. Margaret wasn't to violate the girl. If she had been blessed with a cock at birth, Margaret would have bent that quivering, pitiful blonde tramp over and rammed her dick between those lovely, sweet cheeks and up her asshole. That's what she wanted more than anything else in the world.
Margaret didn't have a cock.
And then again she did in a way.
She smiled at Sherry, the spider to the fly, and walked up close so her crotch pressed against Sherry's breasts. With little movement, she could unzip her fly and push the girl's face into her crotch cunt.
Margaret's pelt was wet and drippy all over from the sexual excitement tingling in her loins. Sherry's mouth would feel fantastic down there licking and sucking. How pleasant it would be, to have her groveling like a common whore. Her tongue darting into her red rimmed slit. How nice! And it would be free too!
"Gordon is coming soon," said Sherry weakly. It was a mistake and one she regreted the minute the words tumbled from her lips.
"It's a hot day," Margaret began. "Why don't you take off your . . . dress!"
Sherry shook her head in disbelief. Suddenly her nipples were pulsating and her breathing labored.
"But. . . why would," she stammered.
Margaret felt testy. "Do as your told," she snapped. "Get those clothes the hell off. All except your panties."
Quickly Sherry's hands found the buttons to her school top and in several quick movements, her clothes lay at her feet. A cool gust of air sent her warm, wet skin tingling with goose bumps. They dimpled her belly, spreading quickly until her abdomen was covered. It was embarrassing for Sherry and she crossed her arms awkwardly in front of her breasts.
"Don't hide yourself," Margaret snapped. The uneasy smile crossing her lips drew tight as the muscles bunched on either side of her jaw. "Be a woman," she snapped. "Don't play school girl with me."
Instinct told Sherry to get out of the house, even if it meant running outside without her clothes. Margaret was acting very strange. Her drawn lips trembled as she lowered her gaze. It was as if Sherry had ceased to be a human being. When Margaret advanced closer, her lips were only inches away, Sherry shuddered. Quickly she turned her head away from Margaret's eyes, away from breasts heaving under her blouse.
"Don't be afraid," Margaret whispered. Already she was reaching for the zippers and snaps that held her clothes so tightly against her supremely shaped body. Margaret was breathing heavily, almost panting. She was capable of anything. She was a gifted, finely educated player in the game of love. She experienced the joy of penetration both in the cunt, mouth and rectum and was expert at using herself. She was an instrument of love, a wonderfully complicated organism capable of the most complicated of sexual intrigues. And now, with Sherry present she was going to indulge her sensibilities.
"Do not be afraid," she announced once more.
"Oh, Margaret," Sherry sputtered. "I mean Mrs. Anson. Don't you think we should wait for Gordon?"
She looked around frantically. Anything to avoid Margaret's hypnotic stare. "I could do the dishes."
She turned quickly for the sink, but a strong, powerful hand touched her shoulder. The palm was moist with sweat and very, very warm. It sent another shower of goose bumps rippling like wheat before the wind across her slender buttocks.
Margaret, sensing the time was right, stepped close to Sherry, thrusting as she moved, so her loins rubbed up against the girl's small twat.
"Gordon will be coming shortly," she answered. Gently she pulled Sherry around forcing the teenage girl to stare into her eyes.
Suddenly, she bent forward and pressed her drawn lips against Sherry's neck. She kissed hard and firm using lips, tongue and teeth to suck on the straining flesh.
Oh, she was good! Margaret could hardly believe her good fortune. She was overcome with passion. Her heart pounded swelling her chest with the deep rapturous stirring of joy. Her hard nipples pressed against Sherry's pudgy undeveloped tits. Her bush was stuck against Sherry's crack; they were connected these two women at the cunt, tits and face. It was a powerful embrace for both of them and when Margaret's lips left Sherry's neck it was with a great sucking sound.
"I must show you something," Margaret said. Her pendant breasts heaved. She turned the curious child around then stooped for her burlap purse on the floor.
Sherry tenderly rubbed the red weal forming on her neck and wondered how she could get away. True, her nipples pulsated, the stirring of hot, red blood gorging the pink areolas. But what did Margaret desire from her. She was confused. Her puny cunt was no match for Gordon's trunk-like penis. It didn't even have hair covering the slit opening. She squirmed nervously while Margaret, muttering to herself, reached into her purse.
"Where the fuck is . . . " she said.
In the few moments that transpired, Sherry could have made a break for it. That she did not was her own fault. Perhaps, she did not want to leave. Curiosity tugged. She was so confused by Margaret. By the way her own body responded to stimulation. By the fact that she was just thirteen years old and knew so very little about the world.
With knowledge comes pain. An old aphorism learned in school came back to her. Wisdom is not given, it is learned. And learned painfully. Perhaps, it was the quest for wisdom, the seeking out of the unknown that kept Sherry in the house while Margaret went about looking for whatever it was in the purse.
"At last," Margaret said, rising up. She turned around to Sherry, her drawn face now beaming with a devilish smile. Her breasts were the color of a lobster, the ends now glowing like coals. Her eyes once again made the forbidden journey from Sherry's down Sherry's scrawny body. The pudgy breasts, the thin hips, the soft, hairless cunt-all were examined carefully by eyes as sharp for detail as any diamond cutter's.
Sherry found her gaze painful and looked away. The white, cylindrical object caught her eye. It rose from Margaret's clutching hand like a tent stake except much thicker and longer. Around the grip, the baton had ridges for secure holding. At the tip, however, the surface was smooth and white. like a whale's tooth she had once seen in a museum.
"What is that," Sherry asked.
The question was met with a sudden, ferocious outburst of laughter. Margaret's body jerked violently, her mouth gapping now, a huge black void cut into the middle of her distorted face.
"I forget, darling, that you know nothing," she said.
"Are you going to . . . hit me?" Sherry asked.
The older woman only smiled this time. It was going to be more fun than first expected. She tightened her grip on the plastic dildo. It was hard and firm. The best dildo money could buy. She rolled the handle, feeling her cunt suddenly spasm. A Japanese salesman, an old friend of her husband had brought the dildo over from Tokyo. She had made some passing remark about Oriental sex devices and was surprised that he had remembered her. She wasn't too keen on the Jap anyway; his lovemaking technique was quite formal, almost ritualistic, and unsatisfactory. His foreplay was brief and unconvincing and the penetration itself was entirely too short. He had been hardly worth her time, especially since there were so many red blooded, macho Americans who could satisfy her wants.
But he did have the dildo. And if his lovemaking was not up to snuff, the mechanical prick more than fit the bill. He showed her where the batteries went, and how to work the tip into her cunt, so the juices flowed all around the conical shaped tip. Juices that would aid in penetration.
His instructions bordered on the obsessive especially the fittings. He made Margaret squat down while he penetrated her cunt and then slowly rise up taking ten deep breaths before turning on the dildo. She was about to tell the slimy Jap to stick his fucking plastic cock up his own hole when he reached between her legs and hit the switch. Immediately, her whole body was turned to the consistency of butter. Electricity zinged up and down her spine, and through her vagina and breasts and out her pee hole and her shitter in great galloping jolts of passion. She instantly forgot about the WOG's sexual inadequacies and immediately fell in love with his plastic love tool.
It was the same tool she was about to use on Sherry. She was going to give this young girl, this nymphet, this bubbly little Lolita a taste of hard, jolting sex. A taste that would linger on the end of her tongue, not to mention the sweaty walls of her vagina for sometime. Perhaps for ever!
I'll
"It will not hurt," Margaret said with assurance. The girl was frightened. She could see that advancing now, moving the baton back and forth like a street fighter working a switch blade. Scared, but curious. For why else would she stay on. Margaret's thinking was distorted by the wild passion spilling over her iron wall of self-control. But if the girl was scared she would have left.
"What are you going to do?" Sherry asked.
Margaret moved within an inch of Sherry. "Put your hands against the back of the chair," she insisted.
"What?"
Margaret brought the baton down to the tip of Sherry's nose.
"Do as I instruct," she said.
With great reluctance, Sherry turned and with both hands, leaned against the chair. Behind her, she heard Margaret moving about.
"What is that?" she asked.
"Vaseline."
The fear, held back as if by a mental dam, suddenly burst forth. She spun around, trying to move away, feeling Margaret's firm hand against her thigh, feeling the pain of those strong fingers holding her fast and she screamed.
"Don't hurt me," she begged. "Oh, please don't."
Her voice was filled with dread and fear. And her wish fell on deaf ears.
With terrible swiftness, Margaret was behind Sherry. Her fingers slid up the trembling legs, up to the girls ripe, moist cunt. Sherry arched her rump outwards, and Margaret, sensing the moment was right, slid a finger into the girl's cunt. "Nooooo!! ! "
It was the cry of a lonely, frightened girl. The cry that a child makes when lost. A terrifying sound really; the sound of despair, of passion turned inward, of unrequited love.
Margaret chose that moment to pry open the girl's cunt and jam the plastic dildo tip up inside the womb.
"There!" Margaret insisted. Overwhelmed with the moment, she could not resist rubbing her wet, excited pussy up against Sherry's leg. The sensation was euphoric. Her rigid clitoris rung like a bell clapper. It made her so fucking hot, she nearly had an orgasm right there in the living room. With the dildo only inches inside the child's tender pussy.
"Aaaaaaahhhh!! ! "
The surge of pain was replaced by the throb of desire. Sherry writhed and wriggled, her cunt a great, seeping orifice. Margaret worked the mechanical fuck stick up the girl's tight, but quickly softening quim with quick, darting motions. The smell seeping out with each stab of the cock brought tears to Margaret's eye. It had the musky, sweet fragrance of old leather books left in an attic closet.
"Bend at the waist," Margaret ordered.
She did. And her rump parted open allowing Margaret to drive the baton into the crux of the "V" formed by the girl's action.
"You know what comes next, don't you, Sherry?"
The little girl, now helpless as a wounded rodent in the clutches of a hawk, nodded meekly. Her thighs shivered as the driving shaft widened her fuck hole. Sherry felt so humiliated. It was like the enemas she received as a young girl; the discomforting sensation of having something mechanical forced into her body. It was just awful. And this baton was much bigger than an enema hose. It felt big around as Gordon's wrist, a huge plastic sausage that caused not pleasure, but merely sensation. Awareness that a big, lifeless object being shoved rhythmically in and out of that, tiny most precious slit between her thighs.
"It will hurt at first," Margaret was saying. But her admonishments fell on deaf ears. Sherry would have none of it. If she couldn't stop Margaret, then damn if she would give the old woman the time of day. She would finish soon enough and then Sherry could put her clothes on and leave. She would tell Gordon. But later. Right then, she wanted to control her shaking thighs, and bite on her lower lip to stop her jaw from trembling.
She snapped her eyes shut and bore up under the humiliation. Margaret was panting like a dog in heat. Her hand worked the evil stick into the socket made between her legs. Finally, when she could hold back not another second, Margaret leaned forward and said in a husky voice: "Now, my darling you will learn the full joys of this beautiful martial aid.
Her finger found the button and pressed down. And a thousand volts of electricity went shooting out the end and into Sherry's hot, defiant twat.