Chapter 5

The car sped through the dark, suburban streets and, while Carole drove, Yvonne puffed furiously at her cigarette.

"I hope he'll talk with us," Yvonne said grimly. "He might not even let us in."

"And he might not be there."

"True, but I think he'll be home. He probably figures we'll be in touch again. I bet he's sitting by the telephone, feeling sorry for himself and hoping Suzanne will call."

"Bastard. I feel sorry for Suzanne. Why the hell can't she find some nice girl to live with like I did?" Yvonne bent over and squeezed Carole's arm.

"We can't all be lucky," she murmured. "She goes to her church and we go to ours."

"Yeah. I sometimes wonder, though."

They drove on, their minds busy with the problem.

"There it is," said Yvonne, "just past the gas station."

Carole swung the wheel over and the car turned-up the side-street, passing the brightly lighted living room windows of other homes.

"The house with the shrubs by the driveway."

They pulled-up, and Yvonne noted with satisfaction that the lights were on. Quietly, they both slipped out and walked-up to the front door. "Here goes."

Yvonne pushed the doorbell and they stood back, waiting. A moment later, the shaft of light from the hallway cut across them and Sam stood there, clad only in blue jeans. "Oh. Hello."

"Can we come in?" asked Yvonne, moving forward. "I suppose so."

He stood back and the girls entered, moving through to the living room, and sitting down next to each other on the couch. Carole stared, noting the patch at one end that was a little darker than the rest. Her nostrils also detected an acid odor.

Sam dropped into a chair and reached for a cigarette.

"Okay. What's on your mind?"

The girls exchanged a look and Yvonne launched into her speech.

"Well, first I'd like to say your rudeness is exceeded only by your lack of faith in your wife." Sam laughed and sneered at them.

"Look, I don't need a lecture. What happens between Suzanne and me is our own business."

"True, but after what you did to her, I think she needs a little support." Sam sighed wearily and puffed at his cigarette.

"Listen, Yvonne, I knew she was lying. Maybe I was a little rough on her, but dammit, this is my house and I don't like my wife fucking someone else in this living room."

"And how do you know she did?"

"Christ, I could smell it when I came home. You know that smell? I guess you do, both of you." They nodded and remained silent.

"So when she started giving me this bunch of horse shit about being attacked and raped, I knew it was just a cover-up. We'd had sex every night since we were married, and, then, all-of-a-sudden, she doesn't want any. Even when she's had the rag on, she's gone down on me, or jacked-me off. She's a horny little bitch, in case you don't know it. She loves cock better than a high-class whore."

"We're not interested in hearing your intimacies," said Carole, frigidly. "We knew Suzanne long before you married her. She may be sexy but she's honest. She did not lie to you."

"You mean she was raped by some stud before I married her?"

Yvonne exchanged a look with Carole.

"We all were," she said, wearily. "This young punk attacked Suzanne in her apartment, when she lived upstairs from us. Then one night, when she was in our place, this character and two friends of his dropped-in. There was a gang-bang. We all got it." Sam stared, disbelievingly, at them.

"And you didn't holler? You couldn't have screamed? In that building, you could hear a mouse fart two floors down. Hah!"

"It's true, Sam," said Carole earnestly. "They said if we made any ruckus, it was their word against ours, which was true. Suppose the manager had come up, there were three girls and three guys together. They said they'd claim we were all whores who had brought them up there to fuck for money. And you know what sort of scene that would have been, especially if you'd seen the guys. Punks, all of them, and one of them a black, too. It wasn't any fun, I'll clue you."

Sam glared at them both, biting his lips.

"It's true, Sam," said Yvonne. "The youngest one came by your house last night. He pushed his way in and attacked Suzanne. She was raped again, and, after that, could you blame her for not wanting to be touched? Even by you?"

"So why didn't she tell me?"

Yvonne sighed and shook her head.

"You're not a woman, Sam, so you wouldn't understand. After something like that, you don't want to talk about it, think about it, or anything. You just want to sleep and try to forget until the hurt goes away. And believe me, getting raped is a lot different to plain, old, loving sex. I don't blame Suzanne for not telling you. I wouldn't have, myself. And, then, tonight you give her the same sort of treatment all over again. Jeez, I thought you had a little more feeling in you."

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Christ, look at my side, dammit. I love Suzanne... " Carole gave a contemptuous laugh.

"You love her and you did that to her? She told us. Oh, wow, I'm glad I'm not married, I'll clue you."

"All right, so I slapped her 'round a little. But I was just so mad, I couldn't help it."

"A likely excuse," snapped Yvonne. "Right now that wife of yours is over at our apartment crying her eyes out. And when we call, you hang up. You're really some son-of-a-bitch, Sam, you know?" He was silent and took a final drag off his cigarette before stubbing it in the ashtray.

"Okay, I'm sorry. But what about this stud? Do you know where he lives? I mean, I plan to do something about it."

Yvonne shook her head.

"He used to live on Forest. But he moved away and I don't know where he's staying now. He's just back in town recently, he told me."

"Oh, you've talked with him?"

"Yes, I ran into him on campus by accident. He's a handsome little bastard but he'll fuck anything. A no-good, poor-white trash."

They were silent for a moment and Sam tapped his fingers nervously on the table-top. Carole stared across at him. "That is the truth, Sam."

"I know. I know." Yvonne exploded.

"Well, goddammit, don't you have anything to say?"

He glared at her.

"No, I don't. Anything I say will be to Suzanne." Yvonne turned to Carole. "I guess maybe that's our cue to leave. Makes one sorry, sometimes, you try to help out friends." She rose and Carole followed her to the door. Yvonne paused and looked back. "You might want to call her at our apartment," she said. "She's sitting there waiting."

"Okay. Okay."

He remained seated. Yvonne turned the handle of the front door and she and Carole stepped out into the night.

As the door closed behind them, Carole turned to her friend and shook her head sadly.

"Men!" she muttered. "Who needs 'em?"

The telephone shrilled through the apartment, the silence broken only by the heavy, labored breathing of Suzanne as she lay on the couch, her shoulders held down by Donald's strong arms, while he thrust his penis in-and-out of her mouth. They both started at the sound of the bell and Suzanne struggled to rise.

"Let it ring," he snapped.

She evaded his organ and gasped up at him.

"Please, let me answer it. I'm expecting a call."

He grinned.

"Your sweet, ever-lovin' husband, mebbe?"

"Donald, please."

"Hell, no. I'm not that dumb."

"I won't say anything about you. I promise. You can hold the phone if you want to. But let me answer it, please."

"I got better things to do. Like fuck you."

He pushed her back on the couch, and eased forward. The phone continued ringing. Three times. Four times. Five times.

"Donald, the neighbors might hear the phone and come over to find out what's wrong. Let me answer it!" Her frail logic touched his fear of discovery. Slowly he moved away. "All right, but one word outta you and you'll be sorry."

She scooted-off the couch and limped over to the instrument. Her ankle was still paining her. She lifted the receiver.

"Suzanne?"

"Oh, Sam, yes, it's me."

"You all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"You sound funny."

"Yvonne and Carole and I are just having some pizza. My mouth was full." There was a silence, then Sam's voice came back, curious and uncomprehending. "Look, they left here only two minutes ago."

"Yvonne says she wishes you were here, too. This pizza's real good."

Suzanne used every bit of self-control, keeping her voice light, her eyes focused on Donald, who had moved across and was standing next to her, a warning glance on his face. "Suzanne, something's wrong, isn't there?"

"Yes."

"You can't talk?"

"No, but I'm longing to see you. I'll be home soon."

"Oh, God... Suzanne, is... is that guy there with you again?"

"Of course, we're having a party."

"I'll be right there."

"Okay, see you, honey."

She replaced the receiver and turned to Donald.

"See, I didn't say anything."

"Okay, okay, come on now, let's get back to fucking. Look at him. He's asking for some more action." Her eyes followed his down to his crotch where his penis was projecting from his pants, slick from her saliva, throbbing with desire. "Donald, please, can't we... "

"No! I said now!"

He shouted at her and reached around her waist, pulling her forward and throwing her bodily on the couch. "Now take off your things. We're going to get down to some solid stuff now." She stared up at him, not moving. "Or do you want me to rip them off again?"

"All right, all right."

In silence, and with trembling fingers, she undid her dress and slipped it off, followed by her underwear. Donald skinned out of his blue jeans and took off his shirt and stood, naked and rampant before her. "Lay down and spread those legs, baby."

Shaking uncontrollably, Suzanne lay back and watched his body as it descended upon her, his arms holding him up while he lowered his hips, his penis dropping down slowly until the end touched her bush. She cringed and then she felt it penetrate her labia. Her clitoris tingled as she felt the hot flesh touch her own and, then, with a sigh, he thrust himself completely into her, still keeping his upper torso suspended on his arms, while his hungry eyes watched his violation of her.

"Lookit, look," he muttered and, automatically, her eyes followed his and she saw herself impaled upon his penis. "Spread your cunt with your hands," he commanded. "I want to see more."

She reached down and with her fingers, pried open her outer lips until they could both see her dark red flesh gripping the shaft, enclosing his length and holding it firm.

He moved his organ in and out and moaned approvingly not only from the sensations, but from the sight of her hot skin surrounding his rod, enclosing it tightly as it pushed in and then was pulled back out until the head almost was visible, and, then, back in again with a sharp jab.

"Good, huh, baby? You like that?"

She remained silent, and closed her eyes, trying to blot out the reality of the moment.

"I said look!" he snapped. "It ain't every day you get a dick that size up your snatch."

She opened her eyes and watched again. Slowly she felt the innermost recesses of her vagina respond. Her glands were secreting more and more, her hot juices lubricated her channel, making it wet and slick, enabling his prick to slide easier, further. She felt the end of it touching the mouth of her womb, and she let out a groan.

'Yeah, get with it, get with it," he snapped. "Good pussy, good pussy." Dimly, Suzanne became aware that her hips were beginning to move, her body was lifting to meet his as he thrust down, and she felt the soft slap of his enormous sac against her buttocks as he entered her completely, driving his tool to the deepest part of her. She had never had intercourse with her outer lips stretched apart as they were now by her hands and the sensation was excruciatingly erotic. She stared hard, seeing her flesh oozing around the shaft as her juices were forced out by the thickness of his prick. It was truly a magnificent organ, so smooth, so white in contrast to the folds of red flesh that gripped it as it bore down into her and, then, lifted-out again as his hips continued the steady, driving rhythm. Her eyes shifted to his body, marveling at his muscles, his trim waist, his thighs and calves, every part of him so exquisitely formed. How could such a beautiful physical specimen contain such a warped and sadistically perverted mind? Why couldn't he have had a mind like Sam, together with that body? That would have been the perfect combination. Sam... yes, where was Sam at that moment?

She pictured him rushing out of the house, getting into his car and driving hell-for-leather down the expressway to reach the campus. Soon, he'd come dashing up the stairs to pound on the door. It was locked, but at that moment, she would scream and he'd break in, tear Donald limb from limb, and carry her home.

But what about Yvonne and Carole? Sam said they had left the house already, which meant they would be climbing the stairs any minute; and when they couldn't get in, they'd know what was going on; but what could they do?

Oh, God, what's happening? Her thoughts were chased away by the mounting passion in her loins as his steady thrusting overpowered every other response, every other thought. She found herself concentrating on combining her movements with his to make the best fuck yes, Donald was the best fuck ever and she might as well enjoy it.

She lifted her hands from her labia and clasped them around his back, pulling him down on top of her and her mouth sought his eagerly.

He moaned as her tongue pushed into his mouth, licking his own and sucking his lips, feeling the incredible smoothness of his skin against her own as her hands went wild across his back. Her nails traced patterns of pleasure across his skin and he writhed in ecstasy.

He rolled over so they were facing each other, sideways, continuing his thrusting. His hands sought her breasts, squeezing them tightly; his thumbs rubbing across the nipples and causing them to get even harder, to stand up more beneath the onslaught of his desires. His mouth slid down her neck, licking, biting her earlobes; and, then, his teeth closed around her nipples, first one, then the other, biting just hard enough to cause her to jump, making her vagina to close even more around his shaft.

His tongue went wild over her soft flesh, licking and biting; the lower he moved down her body, the less he was able to thrust into her, until finally, on a back thrust, the end slid-out and she felt the sudden emptiness in her cunt. She gasped, and then his face pushed-down, licking her bush, his tongue probing into the hot cavern his prick had just left. She cried out, feeling the tip of his tongue touch her clitoris and lick-up-and down, his teeth nibbling at the flesh. Her hands descended to his head, caressing his ears and the back of his neck, as his hands pulled her cunt open as wide as he could, allowing his face to go in deeper-and-deeper, his mouth bringing her such sensual delight that she felt she would reach her climax any second.

"Oh, Donald, Donald," she moaned, "suck it, suck it!"

A throaty sound emerged from him as he continued licking her; then his hands slid down between her legs to her buttocks, lifting her. His tongue slid from her cunt, through her wet, oozing bush, soaked with her juices and around to her anus. She felt him mouthing around the orifice and, then, his tongue pushed-in and her sphincter tightened, then relaxed, beneath the pressure of his tongue as it probed into her. His hands lifted her, his muscles flexing, as he pushed her up on her shoulders, her legs in the air, his head buried between her buttocks, licking her asshole.

He squatted on his haunches, holding her up and pushed his penis up against her shoulder blades. She could feel the hard tool against her, sliding in-and-out of its own foreskin as he humped against her while his mouth sucked on her, licking all around her anus, back to her bush and around her legs. She felt the rising tide of her own passions, that not-to-be-stopped mounting surge of feeling from deep within her vagina and she cried out: "Donald, oh, Christ, I'm coming, I'm coming!"

He pushed his penis harder against her back and his mouth penetrated her cunt, his tongue ramrod-firm as it entered her hot, steamy flesh and found her clitoris again and began flicking across its hard nodule. Her insides convulsed and her vaginal canal was awash with her love juices. Her hands clawed the air and found his head, holding him firmly, pushing him deeper into her as her body shook and every nerve exploded with the ecstasy of her ultimate pleasure.

Her body heaved and she felt herself climax... once... then again, and she cried out, hardly knowing the sounds that emerged from her mouth, her mind completely lifted-up and overcome by the intensity of her emotions.

Donald lifted his head up and looked at her through dreamy eyes, his face aglow with sensuality and delight.

"Good, baby, good, huh? Best bit of pussy-eating you've had, huh?"

She was scarcely conscious of his lowering her buttocks, pulling them towards him and pushing the end of his erect phallus against her anus, still wet and slippery from his saliva. She felt the stab of his entry, then her intestines throbbed as she felt his length slide into her and he began rotating his hips, moving his shaft within her rectum and withdrawing it slightly then thrusting in, again, until his pubic area banged against her with the force of his fucking.

She cried out again and he laughed down at her.

"Nothin' like a tight asshole, is there, baby?"

He held her firmly and she began struggling, her breasts flopping from side-to-side as she moved. He slid a hand up and his fingers entered her vagina, probing, titillating the already red-hot flesh, slick from her coming and his sucking. The afterglow of her orgasm subsided beneath the rampant titillation of his fingers and her clitoris began to hurt, to send stabs of pain to replace the pleasure she had wallowed-in, earlier.

"Stop it, Donald, stop it!"

"I ain't stopping till I come, baby!"

Every time his penis thrust deep into her anus, his hand penetrated her cunt, flicking around on her flesh. He bent forward jack-knifing her body until he was pressing down on her. Her spine felt ready to snap; and the constant pressure of his rod within her felt like a poker about to tear her insides apart. His face came nearer, his hot breath on her face was fast and she could smell the garlic on him from the pizza. His lips touched hers and closed over, licking, sucking, probing.

Her breasts were being squashed beneath her knees; and, with every movement, she felt her nipples rubbed, stimulated to the point of unbearable tension. She broke from his mouth and cried out. "Donald, let me down. You're breaking my back!"

With a muffled curse, he released her, moving back. She collapsed on the couch, thankful for the merciful easing of her muscles and bones. His hands gripped her hips and rolled her over on her stomach; he straddled her, guiding his penis back into her anus once more. His hands slid around the front of her, gripping her sweaty, aching breasts and began squeezing them as he continued his fucking of her asshole; in... out... harder, faster... until she felt nothing but a dull, pitiful numbness in her groin. She began praying for merciful release, for someone to come and end the encounter which had now degenerated into a loathsome ordeal for her.

Her mind was wandering; and silently she prayed for the girls to return; for Sam to come bursting through the door; for the manager to enter anything to save her from the degrading situation in which she, once more, found herself. There was none of the perverse pleasure she had experienced the night before with him. This time it was his pure lust satisfying itself at her expense. Her body was trembling and aching; her groin was numb and her insides felt as though an army was marching through, stomping every nerve ending with rough boots searing her senses and sending stabs of pain through every corner of her intestines.

He began moaning and she felt his fingers tighten on her flesh. His penis was thrusting faster-and-faster and it seemed to be getting thicker, pushing aside her sphincter with more force. She felt, subconsciously, that he was on the verge of climaxing.

His moans got louder; and then he opened his mouth and gave a loud cry: "Keerist! I'm there, I'm there. Fuck, fuck, fuck, shoot, shoot!" His voice trailed off and she felt him plunge his phallus deep into her where it flexed, jerked and she felt the warm come spurting out into her, being squeezed out between her buttocks as he quivered and moved his sex around to get the last vestige of sensation from her.

With a gasp, he straightened up, withdrawing his penis. As it slipped out, she felt a sharp sting as her anus contracted again and she stared at him vaguely, conscious of his sweating, gleaming body and his penis, very distended and red, shining from the juices and the come.

He stared down at himself and touched the end of his cock, pulling the foreskin back over the end. He grinned at her and wiped his forehead.

"Wow, that was something else," he muttered, 'You've got the tightest ass I've ever fucked. Sure made him sore, but it was good!"

He stood up and walked over to her beer bottle, tipping it to his mouth and draining it in several loud gulps.

He dropped into a chair and sat, staring at her. "You okay?"

She turned her face away and remained silent.

"Come on, baby, it was good. Don't tell me you didn't have a ball."

Slowly she raised up, feeling the ghastly ache in her body and she groaned.

"You little bastard," she said softly, "you've just about killed me."

"You'll live," he said lightly, "and you'll be ready for more."

She stared at him, and her hate welled up.

"No, not ever again," she spat out, her voice dripping venom. "I don't care how good it has been, or what you think of that goddamn cock of yours. Never, never again. I'll kill myself first."

He broke into loud laughter and walked into the kitchen, getting two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, coming back, handing her one.

"Here, this'll cool you off," he snapped.

She shook her head.

"I said, take it," he said, loudly, but she remained silent, not looking at him. "Goddamn!"

He put one bottle on the end table, knelt beside her with the other, placing his thumb over the end, shaking it violently. A moment later, he grabbed her legs, viciously, pulled one away from the other, exposing her tender and dripping cunt. He shoved the neck of the bottle into her and released his thumb.

Suzanne flinched and screamed as she felt the ice cold liquid bubble-out and spurt into her, streaming through her vagina and running back-out, on to the couch.

Donald sat back on his haunches and roared with laughter. Suzanne took the bottle and, with a curse, threw it across the room, where it broke against the wall with a frothy crash.

"Best douche you ever had," he said. "Feel better now?"

"Get out! Get out!" she screamed and came at him, her nails clawing for his face. He grabbed her wrists and held her down, laughing obscenely at her.

"Oh, my, she's a tiger after all," he said. "Maybe you should use all that energy up. You ready for some more?"

"No, no, no!" Suzanne's voice rose in an ear-splitting scream; and, then, pure hysteria took over she began shrieking at the top of her lungs. Donald lifted a hand and brought it down hard across her cheek, then across the other cheek. In a second, she was silent, but the echo of her screams still reverberated through the building.

She heard voices on the stairs and the clatter of footsteps. A moment later, there was a loud banging on the door and she heard the manager's voice: "What's going on in there? Yvonne... Carole... You all right?"

Donald's face was ashen and his eyes bored into hers.

"Get rid of them," he hissed. "Get rid of them or you'll be sorry."

Stumbling, Suzanne moved across the room in a haze and stood by the door.

"It's okay," she said, "just a nightmare."

"Who's that?"

"It's me, Suzanne. I fell asleep on the couch. I must've had a bad dream."

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yes, thanks."

"What about the girls?"

"They're out. They'll be back soon."

"Okay, but keep it down. You're waking up half the block."

She heard the footsteps receding as the manager went back downstairs. She turned and saw Donald, once more grinning at her.

"You do good, you know," he said. 'You know what to do when you're s'posed to. Now come back here."

She stood by the door, shook her head and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door.

"Okay, take a good piss," he shouted out. "Get that ol' pussy ready for more action."

Suzanne sat down on the toilet and held her head in her hands. Oh, God, what is going to happen? Where's Sam? Where are the girls? They should have been back ages ago.

She completed urinating and surveyed herself in the mirror, recoiling from her appearance: her makeup gone, her hair wet and stringy, her body gouged with nail marks and dripping with sweat. I look like a cheap, fucked-out whore, she thought. Maybe that's what I am.

She opened the door and went back into the living room. Donald, still naked, was sitting on the couch, gently massaging his penis.

"Hey, you got some cream in there?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, cold cream, Jergens lotion, something like that. My cock's sore." She snickered.

"Good. I hope the goddamn thing drops off."

"Listen, bitch. Go get me some cream and put some on like now or you'll be sorry, I'm telling you. Go."

There was a look on his face which made her quail in terror. She couldn't stand any more violence. Without a word, she turned and went back into the bathroom, rummaging around the medicine cabinet until she found a small jar of cold cream. When she returned, Donald was lying back, his legs spread and his penis flaccid, hanging down over the edge of the cushions.

"Okay, give him the works," he said, "and be gentle. He's kinda sore. You sure got a tight ass."

She stared at him and then started laughing quietly.

"Whatsamatter?"

She dropped to her knees before him, and started unscrewing the cold cream lid. "You telling me to be gentle," she said. "Oh, God, is that funny?"

He grunted and lifted his penis in his hand. "Come on, slap it on," he said.

She put a finger into the cool white cream, lifted out a great gob and, taking his penis in one hand, she began spreading the cream over the skin. It was very red, she had to admit, not like its usual pure white color. He must have really been pushing it to its limit. Serves him right, little ass-fucker!

Suzanne's fingers caressed the thick length of flesh and then she pulled his foreskin back and massaged some more cream around the glans. She felt it respond, jerking a little, but remaining soft. She pulled the foreskin back over the head and massaged the cream into the shaft and down towards his balls. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Oh, wow, does that feel good!" he murmured. 'You keep it up. It feels just as good even if it's soft." Suzanne continued manipulating the cream up and down his penis, sliding her hands down and around his testicles.

"Oh, yes, play with my balls," he muttered. "Wowee, that's great."

She got another gob of cream, rubbed her palms together and enclosed his balls in her fingers,, pulling on them and slicking the skin with the cream, rotating them and then moving back up the shaft, which was slowly beginning to thicken and get hard.

"I'm getting up again," he said. "Easy does it, baby. He's still tender."

She moved around to ease her legs and squatted more comfortably, facing him so that her hands easily reached his crotch. He leaned back, gazing at her, his face enraptured.

"Oh, this is great," he said. "Nothin' better than a beautiful chick playing with your cock."

She giggled. She had to admit that her own aching body had eased a little; and the feel of his genitals in her hands was more than stimulating. He did have a magnificent basket, with that lovely, thick, long cock and big balls; with every caress, she felt the flesh quiver and jerk and get longer, thicker, until it was once again standing in its full majesty.

She pulled the foreskin back, exposing the head and massaged that, rubbing her thumb underneath where she knew it was extra-sensitive. He moaned and his hands came forward, his fingers gently touching her arms, caressing her flesh tenderly.

Quickly, all the tension in the apartment evaporated; she felt a warm glow; her mind was no longer confused, no longer reeling beneath the degradation of his attack. She felt he was calm, relaxed and she was reminded of the wonderful moments she had shared with Sam, when they had lain together in their bed after having sex; and how they had kissed and fondled each other without the frantic desire for orgasm. It was just a moment of sweetness.

Now Donald had climaxed; and she had orgasmed before. They both had their passions stilled for the moment and they were lying together like two lovers, enjoying the sensations of touch and sight, without any pressure of passion.

She looked up at him and smiled.

"You see how nice it can be when you don't get nasty," she said softly. "Isn't it better this way?" He shrugged.

"It's great, but any sort of sex is great," he said without malice. "I don't care what it is, as long as a chick is playin' around with me like you are."

She knew it was useless to try a sentimental approach to the conversation. He was too inured to his way of satisfying his urges. She remembered Yvonne's advice about him. Despite her warming feelings, she jerked herself back to the reality of what was happening. She was sitting between his legs, masturbating him; that was the blunt reality. And she was enjoying it. Yes, she was. Admit it, Suzanne; this is something you like, something you want to do. You want to hold that enormous shaft in your fingers, feel it quiver and respond to your touch. You're no better than he is; you're as hung-up on him as he is on you. So where do you go from here?

Guiltily, she glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was after midnight. Where were Yvonne and Carole? Where was Sam? If the girls had left when he said they had, they should have arrived ages ago. And Sam should be here, too. She knew he had taken the hint from their telephone conversation and would be on his way. Maybe they had a wreck or, maybe, a flat tire. But whatever had happened, she couldn't be caught here with Donald like this.

"Hey!" She looked up at him. He had closed his eyes and his face was the picture of contentment. "What?"

"Donald, I know you love this, and I do, too, but Yvonne and Carole are due back any minute. I think you'd better go. Honest. I'm not trying to get rid of you. But what's going to happen if they arrive at the door and find us like this?"

He giggled.

"I'll fuck 'em, too. One at a time, or both at once."

"Come on, be serious."

"I am. You know me. I can fuck all night. Look at him now. He's up and ready for action again." She tweaked the end of his penis playfully. "He's still sore. You said so."

"That was before you put the cream on. He's okay now. Maybe I'll fuck you again just to prove it."

"No, you won't. You're going to get dressed and leave, and" She hesitated. "I'll see you again. I promise."

"You will?" His eyes opened quickly and he stared disbelievingly down at her. "Yes, I promise. I'll call you at the Pizza Parlor one night. Okay?" He smiled slowly.

"Well, whaddya know? You're okay, Suzanne."

He leaned forward, took her face and kissed her on the lips tenderly.

"Come on, now, for your own good. Get dressed and leave."

He stared down at his erect penis, slick and shiny with the cold cream.

"What about him?"

"He'll wait."

"I don't think so. Finish him off again. Hey, I got a better idea. Here." He bent forward, lifted her up next to him.

"Now lie down on your back. He's all greasy. I'll fuck you between the tits and come that way."

"Donald!"

She struggled and tried to pull away, but his arm held her firmly.

"Donald, we don't have time. They'll be back any minute, I know it. Please."

He shook his head slowly.

"That door's locked, and there's a chain. No way for them to get in here. So I'll fuck you and then I'll go. Fair enough?"

With a sigh, Suzanne stretched out and he straddled her stomach, pushing his penis between her breasts, which he cradled in his hands, making a soft tunnel to enclose his shaft.

"Mm... " he moaned as he started thrusting, "this is better'n your jerking it."

She looked down, watching his body flexing as he moved, pushing his penis up and down between her breasts. As it came forward, the head slid out of the foreskin and almost touched her lips; then it slid back again. He watched his actions, getting a sensual thrill from seeing himself in action.

"Suck the end as it comes through," he said roughly, his actions getting faster, and she knew he was approaching his climax again. Obediently she opened her mouth and took the head as it came forward, licking the end and tasting the greasiness of the skin, covered with cold cream.

He pushed harder, quicker and began moaning.

"Keerist!" He pushed forward, allowing the end to penetrate completely between her lips, and held it there. She felt his body quiver; and then her tongue tasted the thick, rich love cream as he shot into her, load after load. She let it linger a moment, savoring its taste, before swallowing, licking around the head quickly, pushing her tongue across the slit and milking the last drop from his shaft.

He slid off her, and stood beside her, breathing heavily. He bent down and kissed her quickly. "That was good," he said. "Now I'll go. A deal's a deal."

He bent over, taking his jeans off the floor and pulling them on in a second, followed by his shirt and his loafers. She giggled, thinking that he sure could dress in a hurry; he probably had to, most of the time, if his nocturnal sex life was as promiscuous as she suspected.

She lay back, licking her lips and tasting the odd mixture of saltiness and grease. She made a face and wiped her lips.

"Next time I suck you off, you'd better not have cream on your cock," she said, and giggled. He burst out laughing and came forward, lifting her up into his arms and embracing her. "I love you, Suzanne," he murmured. She stared at him strangely.

"And in my own odd way, I love you," she whispered, "though, God knows, I shouldn't." He broke away and moved to the front door, lifting off the chain. As he turned the handle, she detected a noise outside.

"Wait," she whispered. But it was too late.

The door was open and they both saw, standing in the hallway, Yvonne and Carole; and behind them, two figures, men. Suzanne cried out and Donald pushed shut the door just as they heard Yvonne scream out, "Sam, Sam, we're here."

Donald turned to Suzanne, his face devoid of color.

"The back door," she said, and he turned and ran. As he entered the kitchen, he saw Sam coming in through the back door, together with two other men. He turned, and stood, petrified, his face desperate, pleading. Then, the front door burst open and Brett and John came in, their faces grim, followed by Yvonne and Carole. In the kitchen, Sam and Grant and one other student were rushing at Donald. Suzanne gave a loud scream, felt her senses reeling, and then the floor caved in as she fainted across the couch, her naked body spread obscenely. Her last image was that of Sam's fist descending on Donald's face and the boy's body twisting and falling to the floor beneath the force of blows which Sam was crushing down upon him.

Even as she passed out, she thought: no, don't hurt him, please, Sam, don't hurt him... And she wondered why, after all she had endured, she should have thought of Donald.