Chapter 2
Hours later, Maggie threw herself across her bed and sighed. The letter was written and the envelope was sealed, but she had no idea of when Jack would get it. Only the Agency knew his exact location, and all correspondence had to be routed through African headquarters. She longed to pour her heart out to him, but realized that his mail would probably be opened and read before he received it. So she only hinted at what happened, and asked him to try and come home. Nevertheless, she had expected to feel better after writing it. But she didn't.
Her hysterical anger had subsided, but she was still trembling with emotion. Brady Tilden's prick had knocked her off balance. After lifting her to the peak of passionate excitement, it had left her dangling over the abyss. She felt nervous. All wound up. She just had to do something.
Resolutely, she pulled her skirt up around her waist. Her hands moved tenderly to the burning tissues of her cunt. There was no other way. She simply needed relief.
The lips of her pussy were swollen and distended with lust. As she rubbed them with her fingertips, she moaned in passion. A thick coating of moisture already lubricated the vaginal opening, easing the friction of her masturbating hand. Her eyes were shut tight, memories of the sheriffs massive cock haunting her mind. Slowly, she inserted a finger inside her hole.
Streaks of jagged lightning shot through her at the auto-erotic touch. Her cunt was aware of her finger at the same time that her finger was aware of her cunt. It felt good. She began to fuck her pussy with her hand. Scissoring two fingers together, she spread the thickly flanged labia to allow the hot afternoon air to wash over her inner membranes. Then, carrying a dollop of cuntjuice on the tips of her digits, she wet the nut of her clitoris.
The tiny ganglion was red with sexual hunger. It tingled with erotic sensation. Each time her fingers nudged its surface, her body twitched in reaction.
She rolled it from side to side, coating it completely with the dew of her secretions. Then, taking it between her thumb and forefinger, she pulled it gently up and down.
It was like a miniature penis, throbbing in response to her manipulations. She wished that she could bend forward and suck it, the way she had sucked Brady Tilden's cock. She wished she could run her tongue over its glistening head, the way Jack did whenever he was home.
Dipping in the slash of her pussy for another load of lubricant, she greased it some more. The sounds of pleasure which were spewing from her throat became louder with each tantalizing stroke. Her cunt was open wide, prepared for the intrusion of the mightiest cock on earth. Ironically, it got nothing more than her own slender fingers.
Nudging at the love button with a knuckle, she plunged the depths of her opening. She placed the soles of her feet against the mattress, lifting her buttocks high off the surface of the bed and opening her pussy even further. Pressing her palm flat against the swollen hump of her mound, she buried her middle finger to the hilt in her fragrantly dripping slit.
It felt good-almost good enough to let her forget her frustration. But the need for a cock kept intruding on her self-stimulation, she thought of Jack's-all brown and shiny with dew. She thought of Sheriff Tilden's-thick and brutal looking as it protruded from the front of his pants.
She felt herself lifted higher on a billowing cloud of excitement. Continuing to diddle her twat with her right hand, her left began searching the night table beside her for the hand mirror which she kept there. Reaching between her splayed thighs, she positioned it to reflect the red-lipped orifice of her cunt. The sight of its convoluted membranes pressing softly against her fingers excited her still more.
She watched as her cunt kissed the palm of her hand, coating her skin with her sweet and fragrant fluid. Taking her fingers from opening, she lifted them to her nose and sniffed delicately. The aroma lifted her higher. Snaking her tongue quickly out from between her lips, she tasted it. It was rich and musty.
Quickly, she returned her hand to her slash. In and out, in and out her fingers plunged. Her hips were grinding in tight circles, her ass rubbing against the sheet each time she swung down against it. She watched the mirror as her hand fucked her pussy. She gazed at the swollen redness of her clit. Her tension was increasing. The muscles of her thighs drew taut, trembling with fatigue. Her body was in motion, her pelvis rising to meet the thrusts of her plundering digit. The crisis was approaching. It was beginning to happen.
Like the crashing of a tidal wave, it was upon her at last. Her head spun crazily as the rollicking bolts of ecstasy slapped and lashed at her. Her belly fluttered, her buttocks clenched and unclenched. Rumblings of thunder filled the air around her, drowning her uninhibited screams of delight.
Torrents of rich vaginal fluid drenched her masturbating hand, making her fingers slick and smooth. She brought her thighs together, wrapping them tight around her fist in a mindless effort to keep it from withdrawing. But her palm was fastened tightly to the free-flowing fountain of her sex. Like a creature with a will all its own, it reveled in the glory of her completion. In its way, it too experienced a kind of orgasm.
She panted and she moaned, not caring who might hear her cries. A finger-fuck might not be much, but it was all that she had. And her body was making the most of it. Like a sky-diver in free fall, she coasted weightlessly while her mind whirled in the throes of self-induced orgasm. The mirror, forgotten, dropped from her hand to strike her thigh and fall to the mattress beside her. Her eyes were shut tight, excluding everything but the glow in her cunt. For a while, she thought it would go on forever.
It didn't. When she had finished pouring the juices of frustration from her womanly well, she lay back in breathless silence. She felt better now. She would be able to face another day. But what would she do tomorrow?
Downstairs in the living room, Petey was whispering softly in Amy Bradshaw's ear. "I know I'm just a kid," he said. "But I think I'm falling in love with you."
Amy was fourteen, just two years older than Petey. It was obvious that his smooth words were having an effect on her. They had been hugging and kissing for about half an hour, and Petey was ready to move on to bigger and better things. But first he had to soften Amy up a little more. These country chicks were a cinch for smooth-talking Petey Edwards. If Amy succumbed, she would be the sixth one that he fucked in the three months he had been staying with his sister.
Petey grew up in a poor section of Charleston, where it took a fast pair of fists or an even faster mouth to stay alive. He was young and compact, but he was tough. So tough that when his parents died in an auto accident, he had never even shed a tear. He was sure he could continue to survive on his own.
He never really wanted to move in with his sister who lived in the country. He hadn't even seen her since she ran off to marry her nigger soldier boy four years ago. And the thought of rural life didn't appeal to him at all. But there wasn't anyone else, and the court wouldn't allow him to live by himself. So it was either Maggie's place or a state-operated orphan asylum.
In the past three months, though, his feelings had changed. Jack turned out to be a pretty nice guy. He was away most of the time, anyway-stationed overseas somewhere. And country living had quite a bit going for it. Especially the girls. They were all so sweet and innocent, too honest to doubt anything that was said to them.
Petey played them like game fish, enjoying the struggle almost as much as the catch. Usually, he pretended to be immature, letting the one he was after treat him like her own baby brother. Then, when the girl's resistance was at its lowest, he made his move. Completely unprepared for his advances, she usually found herself seduced before she even realized what was happening.
So far, every one of the girls had been cherry before he got to them. That gave him the biggest kick of all. All of the girls he knew back in the city started fucking as soon as they were old enough to know a bird from a bee. Out here, it seemed, things moved more slowly.
He was sure that Amy Bradshaw was a virgin too. He could tell by the hoarseness in her lungs when he kissed her on the lips. He could tell by the way her nipples hardened the instant his fingers brushed across the front of her shirt. She was a juicy exotic fruit, just ripe for picking.
He kissed her again, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck and pulling her close to him. He felt her breathing quicken. Her body was supple and compliant. Her lips were soft and yielding. Gently, he eased her back onto the cushions of the sofa in Maggie's living room. Her long black hair spread about her like a dark and shimmering halo. Her soft green eyes glittered as she looked into his.
"I've never done anything like this before," he whispered. Then, before she could answer, he pressed his lips to hers. Her response was uncertain at first. But she gradually surrendered to the warmth of his kiss. Slowly, her lips parted for the entry of his tongue. As he explored the inside of her mouth with it, she began to moan softly. She fenced with his tongue for a moment, engaging its tip with the point of her own. Then she allowed it to plunge to the opening of her throat.
Petey continued kissing her while his fingers strayed casually across the swelling front of her shirt. For a girl of fourteen she had a nice pair of tits. He could feel them straining at the tight bra which encased them beneath the material of her top. He wanted to rip the garments from her and bury his face in the softness of her bosom, but he held back.
With simulated uncertainty, he cupped one of her softly feminine boobs. It was firm and resilient, returning the gentle pressure of his hand with adolescent exuberance. He heard her gasp in surprise, and knew that he had reached a crucial point in the chase. If she was going to resist him at all, it would be now. With passion, he chewed on her lower lip. Her breathing quickened. He could feel her heart pounding against the wall of her chest. Moaning, she pressed her lips fully against his. This was it. She was his for the taking.
While his tongue traced the lines of her teeth and gums, his fingers slid between the buttons of her shirt. Gingerly, he fan their tips over the cloth-covered contours of her youthful tits. Her body was undulating on the couch, her heat making itself apparent. When he was sure that he had warmed her up enough, he proceeded to the next step.
With a touch too light to jar her conscience, he began to undo the buttons of her shirt. It only took him a moment. Then, when all of the buttons were unfastened, he drew the garment open to reveal the softness of her skin and the crisp whiteness of her bra. His lips still nibbling at hers, he ran his hands lightly over the mounds of her titties, feeling them stir inside the cups.
She groaned, her head turning from side to side as their lips locked together. For a moment, he thought that she might be getting ready to break from his grasp. But her voice became louder as his fingers encircled the fullness of her breasts.
"Oh, Amy," he sighed. "I shouldn't be doing this."
The girl covered his hands with her own, pressing his fingertips into the firm mounds of her bosom. "Hold me," she entreated. "Don't be frightened." Her tone was gentle and maternal. She was hooked.
"I can't help it," he sobbed. "I've never done this before." His lips trailed hotly across her throat and shoulders as he murmured the sweet deceptions.
Her hands went to his head, her fingers tangling in his hair. Tenderly, she guided his face to the cleavage of her teenaged bosom. Moving excitedly, she rubbed her tits against him, stroking his cheeks and his chin with the powdery smoothness of her skin.
His fingers were already working their way under her back, searching for the clasp of her bra.
Before she knew what was happening, he had it open, freeing her breasts from its restricting confinement. With his nose, he nuzzled the undergarment away from her, uncovering her titties completely. Opening his eyes wide, he stared hungrily at them.
Her tits were beautifully contoured-long and shapely, with nipples that stood out like dark little plums. Their centers were hard and elongated, rigidly inviting his lips to suck on them. But he didn't rush into it. He puffed his warm breath across their goosepimply surfaces, smiling inwardly as the ripe nipples puckered to even stiffer erection. Then, with the broad flat blade of his tongue, he began to lick and caress them.
Amy was moaning and panting uncontrollably, her tits rising and falling with the struggling of her lungs. He buried his face deeply between them, inhaling the perfume of her femininity. Then, without further prelude, he caught one of the rubbery rosebuds in his teeth and nipped lightly at it. As he flicked the sensitive tissues with his tongue-tip, he heard her sob in excitement. He knew that she was ready for the next move.
"You're beautiful," he whispered with practiced shyness. "You're so much a woman. And I'm only a kid. How can I expect you to like me?"
"No," Amy whispered, her voice strident with desire. "I like you a lot. And I don't think you're a kid. Why you're almost a man." She pulled his lips against her again. But he wanted more.
Taking her hand, he guided it to his crotch. He rubbed her palm against the rise of his hard-on, letting her feel it through his pants. He could tell that it was making her even hotter.
"Oooooo yeeesss," she hissed. "You are a man."
He was mouthing her nipples vigorously now, moving his head quickly from one tit to the other. His hands cupped and squeezed her titties as he licked and sucked their pebbled centers. He left her hand unattended at the burgeoning crotch of his pants. The next move would be hers.
She was nervous and unsure of herself. But his words had placed her in charge. She had to do something to prove that she was worthy of his respect. Moving her hands slowly, she held his cock through the material of his pants. Petey moaned in unfeigned delight. His success was assured.
His hips revolved in spiraling circles, bringing her fingers into contact with his entire groin. When they encountered the fly of his trousers, he stopped moving. His hands worked at her boobs until she was quivering with excitement. She really had no choice.
Driven by the instinct which serves to keep humanity alive, she began to fumble with his zipper. Her fingers were clumsy, but determined. She tugged and she pulled until, at last, the tab began to come down. In an instant, his pants fell open at the front. His cock was just a hair's breadth away.
He could feel his youthful erection straining at the tight material of his white jockey shorts. Then her hands were all over it. It happened every time. Her budding sexuality was getting the best of her, just like it had with all the country girls he fooled around with. Now that she had begun, she wouldn't be able to stop. Not until the last irreversible step had been taken.
No longer needing it as a tool of seduction, Petey cast his pretended innocence aside and devoted himself completely to getting her hotter. His fingers squeezed at her titties, his lips traced the contours of her naked chest. A little at a time, he worked his way lower to the waistband of her jeans. Swiftly, expertly, he undid the snap. Then, with skillful hands, he stripped the denim pants down over her hips.
Her panties were pink and ruffled, surprisingly feminine under her boy-cut farm clothes. The sight of them made Petey's prick throb with excitement. He felt her fingers closing around it, milking and jerking the youthful organ through his underpants. She was so busy with his cock, that she hardly noticed when he began peeling the panties from her loins.
Hurriedly, he drew the elastic waistband downward, exposing a thin band of curling black cunthair as he lowered it. The growth was thick and wiry, and he was tempted to stop right there to play with the strands for a while. But he wanted her pussy. Rolling the diaphanous pink cloth over her buttocks, he bared her hair-lined slash. Now she was naked.
Placing his hands on her pelvis, he framed the glorious slit, stopping to look at it hungrily. It was all puffy and red, the thick lips coated with a glistening sheen of adolescent desire. His nostrils flared at the pungent aroma of it. Without wasting another moment, he began stroking the opening with his fingers.
She dropped her grasp on his cock and threw herself back against the cushions. Sobs of delight were bubbling from her throat. Her body was wiggling like a pinned snake. He could feel an ocean of fluid flowing out from inside her hole to wet the tips of his brazenly cunt-stroking fingers. Suddenly, he dipped one finger into her.
Amy cried out with pleasure and surprise. The sound drove him on. Burying the entire length of his middle finger in the warmth of her slash, he began stroking it slowly in and out. Each driving motion brought another gasp of joy from her lips. A little river of saliva trickled from the corner of her mouth.
Her hands found their way into his shorts and began searching for his prick. It wasn't hard to find. Standing up straight and tall, the young male organ greeted her faltering fingertips with a rhythmic pulsing throb. His juices were already beginning to flow.
He let her play with him for a few minutes longer while his fingers delved deep into her virginal opening. Her tissues were moist and slick with cuntal fluids. She was tight. Real tight! He roamed up and down the length of her drooling slit, stopping occasionally to twirl the nub of her clitoris. Each time he did so, she wailed in delight.
Her thighs were falling open, silently inviting the entry of his cock. There was no reason to wait any longer. Standing up beside the couch, the boy stripped the white shorts from his body. Licking his lips as he looked at her, he stroked his penis slowly up and down. Then, savoring the hypnotized expression of lust which played over her features, he crawled between her knees on the cushions.
Her eyes were shut. Her lower lip was clamped between her teeth. The sounds coming from her throat told him that her body was ready. But he knew that she wasn't really expecting him to fuck her. Heavy petting was as far as her virginal imagination could take her. She was in for a surprise.
When he crept up toward her pussy, she pulled back her thighs to give access to the finger which she was expecting. Petey clutched his cock in his hand, aiming it for the sensitive crack between her cuntlips. Then, throwing himself forward, he embedded the tool in her softness. He didn't stop plowing forward until he encountered the barrier of her hymen.
The teenaged girl opened her eyes in alarm. "No!" she cried in desperation. "Don't! Stop!" But it was too late. Grunting with effort, the precocious pre-teener drove forward, smashing her maidenhood with the blunted point of his ram.
"Oh, God," she screamed, pain flooding her green eyes with bitter tears.
Petey paid no heed to her suffering. He was getting what he wanted and that was all that counted. With a relentlessly drumming rhythm, he pounded his dick into her. His drive wrenched sob after gasping sob from her throat. Her mouth contorted with shame. Her face was wrinkled in horror.
Within seconds, though, his pelvic thrusts began getting to her. No longer in command of her own reflexes, she wrapped her legs around his hips. She fused her pelvis to his in an instinctive attempt to drive him yet deeper. Her sobs of agony turned to mewls of pleasure and desire. He knew that she was rising toward a woman's total fulfillment.
Dropping his head, he took one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked it as he ground his pelvis against her mound. That was all it took. With a mindless howl of bliss, her first orgasm began. His followed immediately. His balls ground together as he pumped his youthful seed into the snug receptacle of her snatch. Everything melted in the heat of the moment. Their paroxysms coincided as maiden and seducer became one for an infinite second in time.
When it was over, the girl wept quietly. "I'm not a virgin anymore," she whispered. "I've given you everything."
Petey kissed her. But his mind was somewhere else. He thought he heard something up in one of the bedrooms. It sounded like somebody groaning. It must have been Maggie.