Chapter 1
"Don't worry." His voice was a whisper. "I won't hurt you. Trust me, dear. Let me stay a little while."
His intense eyes looked down into Tricia's and she knew that she could trust him. Didn't love mean trust? Magically, she felt herself propelled to the bed and then she was conscious of him above her, her gaze focused on his firm mouth with the gleam of strong teeth inside. Out of nowhere a hand slid, tantalizing, burning, over the rise of her young tits, down past her waist and then making little circular motions on one thigh.
Something like a furry animal leaped up within her. Fear, mingled with an itchy, burning desire she had never known before, spurted through her body. The expanses of her youthful flesh, now exposed, tingled for more caresses. Yet in the back of her brain she knew he should go, that it was wrong to be here together behind a locked door--and on a bed.
An alarm bell jangled distantly. Tricia struggled, moaned--and then heard his smooth whisper again.
"Trust me."
Well, why not? She was so warm and soft and weak--she really didn't want him to go. Not yet. In a little while, perhaps. But not now. Oh, not now!
It took Tricia Goode a long time to realize that the new sound injecting itself into the room was her own jet-like breathing. Writhing, she tried to evade his hands, which were finding their way through the openings of her clothing. But she could not evade them--they followed her, found her, fondled her as if they had inclinations of their own. And punctuating the twisting drama were the unmistakable tugs that meant her clothes were now being stripped from her body. When it actually happened she had no idea, but suddenly she was naked. Under the eyes of a man--naked--for the first time in her life. The sensation was thrilling and fearsome all at the same time. That swirl of pinkness at the foot of the bed was a bra and panties and slip--hers!
"Trust me."
The words were daggers, jabbing, stabbing, piercing the last core of resistance.
Breathing was difficult. As if a blanket was smothering her, suffocating her, slowing the world's movements down to the slow motions that her body was now churning through. Her head was light and yet heavy, her lips quivering, the peaked points of her breasts aflame under his fierce attention.
Only rarely in her young life had she gotten any hint of what resided within this tight container that was her body. True, there had been warnings, and she should have heeded them. Was it too late? She was hurtling down a steep hill on a motorcycle with no brakes, gathering momentum, unable to halt the terrifying rush, throbbing deep in her belly with the impending ecstasy of danger, excited beyond the point of uttering anything more than moans and choked-up sighs.
Then he pressed his face to her firm bosom and began to lick and suck. Wild sensations went through Tricia.
His wet sucking mouth moved from nipple to nipple, and he licked each one thoroughly before he took the tingling flesh-buds between his lips. He sucked and laved them with his warm, moist tongue. He nibbled at the pegs of erectile tissue and hot darts of sinful delight coursed through her body.
"No, no!" she screamed aloud, and she writhed against his face. But it only caused her taut breasts to vibrate and her nipples to leap in and out of his mouth, arousing him still further. He caressed her quivering tummy, then slid his hand down over her mound and between her thighs, pressing the heel of his hand against the flaming, moist lips of her cunt.
Tricia closed her eyes against the tremendous thrills that rocked her. And then as his fingers petted her pussy directly, she felt that she must cry out for him to take her. He leaned on one of her legs, holding it against the bed.
"I hate you, Walter!" she screamed, although her hot young body was singing a different tune. Her virginal cunt was already awash with excitement, and she knew his hand was making him aware of the fresh, warm moistness from her pussy as it seeped its girl-juices, coating his fingers and palm.
Now he grasped her by the ankles, and pushed outward, spreading her legs apart. The result was that her crotch and ass were laid open to his lascivious gaze as they'd never been exposed to anyone before.
Her cheeks burned with mortification as she imagined his hot eyes prying into the pink, moist split of her vulva and touching the tight puckered hole of her anus.
Walter's prick pounded with blood as he gazed at the breathtaking beauty of her firm thighs, so creamy-smooth as they converged on the hair-fringed splendor of her virginal cunt-- then at the cunt itself, small and tight, yet partially open to him now as he held her legs well apart. Finally his gaze stroked like a paintbrush down into her buttock cleft where a pinkish-brown dimple winked at him from between white, firm loaves of flesh.
Next, Tricia's legs were pushed almost up to her breasts, and she felt utterly humiliated, but her pussy was dribbling madly. She imagined Walter could see the pearly moisture oozing out of it, as it curved toward him, ripely split.
And then... and then her pleasure senses felt his warm, grabbing kiss against the center of heat, while her legs were placed atop his shoulders and his head bowed into the sweet, warm valley between her thighs.
Tricia reacted with panic. He mustn't do this to me! she thought. Not THIS!
But he zestfully lay his long, moist tongue against the ever-moister, pink slash of her pussy and began to sensually swab it up and down, licking indiscriminately over her silky hairs and the slippery edges of her cuntal folds.
How magnificent! her mind screamed, and it became even better, if that were possible. Walter wiggled his sinful tongue in between the lathered flanges of her cunt and slurped up her free-flowing juices, fluttering little tongue-lashes against her hot-as-cinder little clithead, which trembled and throbbed so blissfully that Tricia was sure she would explode. Walter wormed his tongue in and out of all the labyrinthine folds and finally concentrated on the hot secret opening of her vagina, licking ardently, trying to penetrate it. But her maidenhead stopped him from getting his tongue in very far.
Tricia was ooh-ing, aah-ing and wiggling her legs on his shoulders as he refused to stop licking, sucking and biting at her little pea of a clithead.
Tricia grooved, flipped, went wild with passion. She felt her brain going up like a rocket when he took the clit between his teeth and bit on the spongy, firmly fleshy protrusion.
"Oooooh-oooh--ooh--ooh!" Tricia panted as she kept throbbing in utter bliss, her clit vibrating against his teeth and lips and tongue.
Then Walter was back up over her and she felt his weight. She stared up at him with her pink lips moistly parted, her high, aching breasts rising and falling, their rosy nipples stretching against his chest, and she waited.
A question shot through her mind like a bullet. How could this be so terribly wrong, yet unspeakably good at the same time?
Walter's prick gave a series of tight jerks as he massaged her beautiful fanny, rolling, quivering, shivering its close-set globes.
Tricia squealed with a sudden sweet shock. Walter kept caressing the inner mouth of her cunt with the glistening head of his prick, widening the cunt-mouth slightly and stretching the hymen, readying it for rupture.
The cockhead seemed to be talking to the lip-stretched stubborn cunt, demanding the full feel of hot female flesh around it as it throbbed violently with blood.
"Easy..." Walter whispered. "Easy..."
And the brutally blunt-headed cock burst through her virgin's tissue, the pain now ebbing from her body, a new voluptuous sense of pleasure replacing it as his length, bone-hard thick rod glided up tightly, stretching the channel, the great fullness creeping deeper and deeper into her. He was forging deeper, opening more and more with each stroke, the clutching, slipper snugness clinging around him. Fucking her, harder and harder, his hard belly against her soft one, his coarse hair against her fluffy down, the encircling wet-warm taking him and taking him and taking him, the fullness supreme, so awesome Tricia was sure she could never let go. She opened and blossomed and gave up all reserve, the inner muscles of her pussy quaking, her legs scissoring at him.
"Yesss! Ooh, dooo it!" Tricia heard her own voice cry out, drowning out completely the small voice that still cried NO!
She panted and worked her hips eagerly beneath his. Then she felt the world closing in, and she couldn't breathe. She fucked up at him and let out a series of keen wails, gasping, feeling the moment come closer and closer until in a shattering moment the inward pressure turned into an outward rush, atingle from head to toe, in a blissful flood of warmth she had never before imagined.
As her taxi rolled to a halt at the pier entrance, Tricia Goode hopped out, flung a bill to the startled driver and then turned and raced away. A uniformed porter said, "Sailing on this ship, miss?"
She nodded and he took her bags from the back seat and followed quickly behind her.
Tricia went through the red tape of getting aboard. Tickets, passport, baggage, walking up the gangplank, feeling the eyes from the deck, fellow passengers appraising her girlishly slender figure in its flattering sheath of brand-new traveling suit.
She was finally led to her cabin door, and once inside she surveyed the neatly made-up double-decker bunks, the table and bureau bolted to the floor, metal chairs, a cushioned lounge. Above the lounge, like a big eye looking on all this, a single porthole.
Tricia sighed. Seven days in this tiny trap-- and sharing it with some unknown female besides. A roommate--unknown to her as yet-- would probably arrive any moment, she guessed. But all that was unimportant. She had escaped. Escaped from the grasp of the city, escaped from WALTER!
Well, hadn't she?
She felt swollen somehow--bloated, and for a silly moment she wondered if she could be pregnant. No, they were child-thoughts. But her breasts felt hot and heavy and she asked herself the question again. No, she was thinking like a naive virgin. Ex-virgin, she reminded herself acidly.
By climbing to the upper bunk she was able to look out the porthole and see the grand and evil outline of the city she had just left. He knew she was leaving this morning... that's why Walter had to make his play last night, she thought.
Last night. God, she couldn't even think of it. What a frightening, nightmarish... and beautiful night it had been.
She got down and looked in the mirror, and the look coming back at her was one of reproachful solemnity. And the guilt in those eyes!
Now, without even looking out the porthole, she could feel the city out there, pulsating like a gigantic heartbeat.
How she hated it! And hated Walter! And hated everything!