Chapter 7
Cathy walked two hours till she came to Knebel Gulch Road.
Ten minutes later she trudged up to the farm where her mother had been born and raised.
In the moonlight, surrounded by a littered yard and a shaggy stand of pine, the old ramshackle clapboard house was dishearteningly small and poor looking. The barn was small and leaning dangerously far to the left.
Cathy was heartened by a dim, flickering light in the single attic window. Was it candlelight? Didn't they have electricity?
She knew it had to be past one A.M., but the night had turned cold and she had no place else to go. At least they'd let her sleep in a chair and maybe give her breakfast.
She walked up to the house, up onto the creaky porch, and knocked on the rattly door. One of the small panes of glass in the door had been broken and covered over by cardboard.
Nothing happened. She waited for long minutes, then knocked again, harder. The door shook on loose hinges. She wondered if it was locked.
Finally, the door was opened by a little naked girl child who stood in the darkness and scowled at her. "What do you want?"
"I'm Cathy Dietz. I'm Mary Knebel's daughter. I. ... " She tried to remember names from those visiting at her mother's funeral. The Knebels had come in a big, ancient flat-bed truck and they'd been all girls of varying ages up to sixteen or so, and there had been one older woman and the Old Man. That's what everybody had called him: the Old Man. Bearded, skinny as a rail, with piercing sky-blue eyes. His teeth had been all rotten.
Cathy managed, "I want to see the Old Man. It's very important."
The child brushed back unruly blonde hair. "What about?"
"I guess ... I want to stay here for a while."
The child giggled. "Old Man'll like that." She turned away and disappeared, leaving Cathy standing at the door. The door was left open.
Cathy was cold. She edged inside, into the darkness of the house, and closed the door. The house stank of cooking and dirt and sour clothing.
She heard the mutter of voices from the back of the house, and she saw a faint movement at the top of the stairs.
She waited, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that there were three girls watching her from the attic landing. They appeared to be in their early teens. They wore plain, single piece night gowns. They whispered to each other.
She was in the main room of the house. There were shadowy couches and chairs and tables. A large fireplace took up most of the left wall. It held the glowing embers of an earlier fire.
Finally, a door opened in the back of the house and a light appeared. Cathy saw the Old Man come into the hallway with a candle. He wore a tattered robe held loosely closed by a length of cinched rope. He walked toward her briskly, holding the candle far forward, his bright blue eyes glittering in the flickering yellow light.
He stopped before her, candle high, peering at her. He nodded and smiled and his teeth were like rotted stumps. "I remember you, Cathy. True to the Knebel bloodline." His fierce eyes raked her body. "Granddaughter. Good marriage. What you doing here?"
"I just want to stay here ... maybe for a couple days ... I had to leave. I couldn't stand it any more. Since mother died ... he's been making me ... making me take her place. Cathy's voice broke.
"Yuh. Figures. You pregnant?"
"No." Cathy noticed a young woman in the hallway. The girl had come from the same room as the Old Man. The girl wore only bikini panties. She was lovely, with the graceful slimness of a dancer. Her breasts were high and full and wobbled as she moved. Her hair was long and blonde. All the girls in the house were blonde.
The girl stopped close behind the Old Man and stared curiously at Cathy with dull blue eyes.
The Old Man nodded. "You kin stay. Suppose there's room on a mattress up in the attic with the girls." He peered around at the three at the landing. "You make room for her!" He turned back to Cathy. "We'll have us a good talk in the morning about your situation." He stroked his blonde, gray-streaked beard and looked her up and down again. "Yuh. We need some new blood around here."
He turned away and saw the nubile young woman behind him. "Git back to the bed, Marthy. You still got to finish your lesson."
He shooed her down the hall, paying no more attention to Cathy. In a few seconds Cathy was alone again in darkness.
She looked uncertainly up the stairs. She said to the girls, "I could sleep down her on the sofa."
One of the girls said, "Naw, naw, it's got busted springs. We got room now that Faith is married off. Come on up."
Cathy regripped the handle of her small suitcase and mounted the rickety stairs.
The attic was low and floored with a worn old cheap rug. The girls had fixed it up with gaudy wallpaper nobody could have wanted, and hung some pictures of movie stars from old magazines. There was a fold-out male nude from a woman's sex magazine. He was very muscular and well-hung.
Two double-bed size mattresses lay on the floor with sheets and a single blanket on each. The closet was a rod that ran from one slope of the roof to the other, with a curtain hung before it.
The candle Cathy had seen from outside was stuck in a small dish. It guttered and gave off a lot of smoke. She realized it was homemade.
The girls introduced themselves. There was Chris, with a square face and full lips and a stocky, square angled body.
Debra was the beauty, with a sensuous oval face, a small, well-rounded body, and small, delicate hands.
Alicia was short, too, and pretty, with the narrow face of the Old Man. She was about six months gone in pregnancy.
The girls talked in whispers, because the Old Man could hear them otherwise. His bedroom was almost directly under them.
Cathy was very tired and sleepy. It was decided she would sleep on the right hand mattress with Chris. Debra and Alicia shared the other.
As the girls quieted, sounds from below became clearer. The Old Man ... Marthy ... The candle had been blown out.
Chris edged close under the sheet and blanket and breathed into Cathy's ear, "Want to play a little?"
"What? Play what?"
"Tingle, we play it all the time up here. It's one thing he doesn't teach us to do in bed." Chris's hand crept onto Cathy's naked left breast.
Cathy tensed. But she didn't stop Chris's hand from its soft, gentle seeking and caressing. She had never done anything like this with a girl! But she'd heard about two girls fooling around together. She didn't think it could do any harm. The most they could do was maybe finger each other.
And, she thought, she wouldn't have six inches of big, fat cock rammed down her throat till she nearly choked to death! And she couldn't get pregnant from a finger.
So Cathy sighed and turned toward Chris and put a hand lightly in turn on Chris's breasts. She touched through the girl's thin nightgown, gently moving the much-washed cotton over large, big-nippled mounds.
Cathy heard Debra and Alicia whispering, giggling, and moving under their sheet and blanket.
While they played with each other, Cathy and Chris exchanged confidences. Soon Cathy knew everything about the Old Man, his girl farm, what he taught them in his bedroom almost each night, and what her fate might be if she stayed.
And soon Chris's nightgown was off and the two girls clung naked to each other in the darkness, soaking in each other's warmth, stroking each other's back and cheeks and thighs.
Then Chris shifted to her back and pulled the sheet down to expose her large, soft breasts to the faint moonlight that sifted in through the small window. She whispered, "Kiss my titties, Cathy. Please. I really like it."
Cathy saw that Debra was ardently suckling on Alicia's bulbous breasts. The other girl's weren't giggling now. Alicia's delicate hand was moving between Debra's open thighs, causing soft moans and even more passionate suckling.
Cathy didn't like doing it in the open, but complied with Chris's wish. She toyed tenderly with the large, rubbery nipples, and was drawn, instinctively, to draw them in between her lips ... to lick and suck them.
"Oh, yes, I love it," Chris became restless. She pushed her breasts up more. She writhed slowly, breathing deeper. And after long moments of sighing pleasure, she whispered, "I'll give you a treat in a minute if you'll. ... " She urged
Cathy's hand to her open, waiting crotch.
Cathy had expected there would be more. This. And she willingly explored the girl's loins. The warm, fuzzy mound ... the warmer slit, moist and ready ... the slick inner gorge, and the sensitive little button of flesh that caused a sharp, delighted inhalation of breath when touched ... and the opening to her depths with its soft-slick rippled inner walls.
Cathy experimentally pressed a finger in as far as she could. Chris was deep, too. Cathy tried a second finger, too.
Chris stopped her. "No, don't. I don't like finger-dipping. Just diddle my button. That's what brings me over."
Cathy nodded and caressed the small, turgid clitoris. Her finger rode over and around and over the taut little organ in warm stickiness. Faster.
Chris's breathing speeded, too. Her nipple hardened in Cathy's sucking mouth. She half sighed, half moaned. Her hips surged. Her hands clutched at Cathy's arm and thigh, gripping.
Chris's belly jumped and sucked. She caught her breath in a series of sharp inhalations. Her loins bucked against Cathy's clinging hand. Cathy knowingly kept her finger moving on the girl's hardened, vibrant clitoris.
Then Chris went limp slowly, sagging, quieting. Sighing.
Cathy slowed her finger, then when she judged the moment right, gently pulled her hand away.
Chris surprised Cathy by leaning close, embracing her and kissing her on the lips. An open kiss, but not a passionate one. "Thank you! Thank you!" She hugged Cathy tightly. To the other girls she whispered loudly, "She really knows how to make you tingle."
Cathy flushed in the darkness. She wondered fearfully if she had some kind of instinctive, obscene talent for sex. Men ... girls. ...
Chris kissed Cathy again, and whispered, "Now I'll give you that treat." She eased Cathy to her back and began feasting on Cathy's small breasts and nipples.
Cathy wondered how she would react to having a girl kiss and touch in private places ... and was vaguely alarmed at the quickness of the physical responses ... the tickling, glowing excitement that opened up in her breasts and caused a similar itch of need between her thighs.
Cathy expected Chris to do for her what she had for Chris. But Chris's idea of a treat was something else. Chris spent five or ten minutes loving up Cathy's breasts and in delicately running inquisitive fingers over Cathy's belly, thighs, and mound ... yet never seeking to penetrate the oozing slit.
Cathy was glowing, her belly ached for penetration. Her loins pulsed with need Chris was teasing her to a very high level of excitement.
Cathy whispered breathlessly. "Please ... do it to me." She meant masturbation ... fingers.
Chris giggled. "Ummm. I guess you're ready, all right." And she slipped under the covers ... moved with experience and assurance ... urged Cathy to raise her knees, to part them wide ... and moved into place.
Cathy frowned in the darkness as she felt Chris make these moves ... and relaxed a bit when she felt the girl's fingers toying with her slit, parting it.
She gasped as she felt Chris's hair tickling her inner thighs, and felt the girl's hot breath on sensitive, open flesh, and gasped with surprise and shock and amazement and mingled revulsion as she felt the first adroit exploration of the girl's agile, darting tongue.
Cathy made an abortive move to push Chris's head away but stopped when the flickering tongue found her clitoris. "Oh!"
Cathy froze. A new world of sensation and delight was opening for her. It was depraved but she liked it! She couldn't resist it!
Even in the near total darkness she covered her face with both hands. She hissed with pleasure as Chris discovered and concentrated on that certain magic spot.
She heard the other girls doing this, too. A liquidy sound of mouth and tongue. She was bold enough to look sideways and could barely see a suggestive bulking and moving of forms and bedding. Was it Debra who was doing it to Alicia?
Was it Alicia who was moaning so meaningfully?
And from below the Old Man's loud groans. Marthy was performing her lesson well. Was he making her do it over and over until she got it just right?
Cathy abandoned herself to the electric pleasure Chris's technique gave her. The tongue was like a darting, intelligent little bird. The approaching ecstasy came like a furtive little mouse scurrying from corner to corner, closer, closer. Now it was a cat creeping closer to an unsuspecting bird; crouched, inching forward.
Now, oh, now! It was a tiger! It possessed her! The incredible rapture had her body and soul!
Cathy thrashed and whimpered, shamed and shameless. She fisted her mouth, eyes tight closed, thighs wide open, belly surging, jumping, rocking Chris's head.
Cathy was filled with that special kind of golden lightning that can only be known in this way, from tongue-on-clitoris.
Too soon it was fading. Yet there was a secret inner knowledge that it would come again if she let Chris continue that magic, delicious licking. But she couldn't expect the girl to go on doing it.
Unless Cathy guessed unless I do it to her in a few minutes. But she couldn't bring herself to do a thing like that. Not yet. If she stayed here. ...
Chris moved up under the covers and kissed Cathy's breasts again. Her head emerged from the covering sheet and blanket. She asked, "Really fine for you, huh?"
"Um-ummmm!" Cathy touched her cheek in appreciation.
On the other mattress one of the girls panted into her orgasm, her voice keening up the scale.
Chris whispered, giggling, "Alicia goes crazy when Debra gives tongue. Debra's the best in the world!"
"Does your ... the Old Man know you do things like this up here?
"Sure. He and Mom don't care."
"Where is your Mom? I don't see anybody."
"She's over at Wentworth visiting Janey and Franella." Chris added in explanation, "That's the state school for the empty heads retards."
Cathy didn't say anything.
Debra crawled over to their mattress. "Want me to do you, Cathy?" She was eager. She spoke low, not bothering to whisper.
Cathy detected a kind of sing-song in Debra's voice and knew that Debra was probably a low-grade moron. She'd heard that same cadence that slow, childish, willingness-to-please in a couple of the 'stupidos' in grammar school, years ago.
She answered, "No thanks, Debra. I'm tired. Maybe another time."
"I can do it better than anybody. And you ought to see me do the Old Man. I really do good with him. He said so."
Cathy patted her on the head. "Good for you. Let's go to sleep now. Okay?"
"Okay." Debra crawled to the mattress she shared with the pregnant Alicia.
The girls said goodnight.
Cathy accepted a sweet goodnight kiss from Chris, then rolled onto her side in her best getting-to-sleep position. But sleep wouldn't come.
She stared into the darkness, listened to the girls' breathing and quiet rustling, and wondered what she had gotten herself into. And she wondered as her loins still simmered from the powerful climax Chris had given her am I a lesbian, too? What kind of creature am I? She decided to leave the first thing in the morning.