Chapter 1

Nan Flanders was exuberant. Today she was given her first real assignment. As the New Toronto Gazette's cub reporter, she had thus far covered school board meetings, bird and bug club gatherings and ladies' teas. Now came her big chance!

Nan, at eighteen years of age, was lovely to behold. Male members of the small Southern California daily had panted after her form from the first moment she stepped into the newsroom as a bonafide employee... all to no avail. Nan resisted their wiles while at the same time increasing their determination.

Her refusal to surrender to their most ardent entreaties was not through any puritanical instinct. Nan was a virgin by choice and despite close brushes with complete surrender she had always drawn upon some inner strength which caused the suitor of the moment no small amount of frustration. Nan had no illusions. She knew that someday, sooner or later, a man would come along to whom she would give herself completely. She had only one reservation in the back of her mind and that was that she must be sure she loved him. It was her one strength... or weakness.

Mae Gail Jetty, the town's one and only claim to fame, had been killed in a plane crash Sunday night. It was now Monday morning and Nan's city editor had assigned her to dig up all the background she could find on the late millionairess and philanthropist. The New Toronto Gazette wanted to run an extensive, in-depth feature story on the late Mrs. Jetty.

Nan skimmed through the Gazette's chintzy morgue and managed to find a few names connected with the globe-trotting Mrs. Jetty. She also read every bit of information the files held regarding Mrs. Jetty herself.

Mae Gail DiMintri was born February 17, 1925 to parents of moderate income and unspectacular accomplishments. Her early childhood was a blank. Nothing in the files indicated exactly what took place in Mae's New Toronto school days until she reached the second year of high school. Then a small clipping revealed that her interest seemed to indicate a natural bent for business and finance. The clipping noted that she had won an award in a statewide contest for the best student written essay on economic change in a wartime democracy. That had been in 1941, only two months before the attack on Pearl Harbor.

About this time Mrs. Jetty became involved with the son of a local banker, Paul Hanley. Paul was twenty-three when he first met the beguiling Mae who was sixteen. Paul was 4-F which left him on the home front to woo and sin many a lass whose boyfriends were off to the war. 1942 was a good year for the charming and personable Hanley. He had just graduated from Clavey College where he had distinguished himself in business administration. His flashy 1941 model convertible was one of the few in town and the lonesome young females were ripe for plucking... plucking, that is.

None of the information in the files indicated to Nan any such goings-on and all Nan could really ascertain was that Mae had evidently been tutored by Hanley in the ways of the business world. Several clippings told of smaller financial coups credited to Mae before she reached the age of twenty-five. Always, it seemed, Paul Hanley was in the background. His guiding hand was ever present.

Nan had the first lead on her big story. She would contact Hanley and arrange an interview that day. She was certain he was capable of giving her much information on the early money-making days of Mrs. Jetty. Then, too, he might be able to give her names of other persons who could contribute to the New Toronto Gazette's story of the year.

Nan's editor, John Lopez, was about Mae's age and had lived in New Toronto since the war, but said he knew nothing about Mrs. Jetty except that she was rich and generous. He showed her clippings from his private file.

"Read these before you start interviewing people," he said, handing her the neatly trimmed stack of old news stories. She spent an hour going through them, taking notes as she read. They were all pretty much the same thing: descriptions of Mrs. Jetty endowing an education fund for ghetto dwellers and financing orphanages and libraries. She had built hospitals all over the world; had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars helping the American Indian; had tried in her travels to drop a little silver into every poverty pocket she passed; and generally had spent her tremendous wealth on everyone but herself.

"There's more to her life," Lopez told her when she brought the clippings back to his office, "but it's mostly gossip. All I know is there used to be some wild times around New Toronto when she lived here," he grinned lecherously. He always grinned lecherously, Nan thought. It's the only way he knows how to grin.

"I don't know if she was involved in it," he added, "because frankly, I wouldn't know Mae Gail Jetty if I sat on her... you should pardon the expression." Nan winced and her reaction drew a nasty guffaw from him.

"You have until Saturday to hand in a story for the Sunday supplement," he said, looking at her in a way that made Nan's skin crawl. If Mr. Lopez half tried, thought Nan, he could really be a dirty old man. His eyes seemed to devour her.

She told him where she was going and then headed for the home of Paul Hanley.

Paul Hanley owned a huge house in the rich section of town. He didn't live in the house, however, because he realized a nice profit by leasing it. He lived at the rear portion of the property in what in the old days had been servants' quarters above a spacious garage.

Hanley was fifty-three and still fancied himself a lady killer. His graying black hair added to the distinguished appearance which was only slightly marred by the beginning of a paunch. He had little cause to work anymore though he still kept an office in town. Most of his time was spent exercising his limber muscles and looking around Southern California for virgins to seduce. All of his adult life had been spent in that search and he could verify what he described as fifteen kills, starting with Mae Gail DiMintri all those years ago. Hanley did not, of course, ignore other women-dozens of them knew his private gate and the back stairs to his apartment-but he always had an eye out for a susceptible virgin.

He was sure he saw one now; a very small girl was walking up the driveway, her blue minidress giving the hint of luscious curves and very large, full breasts. She lilted as she walked and Paul Hanley knew that only a virgin could suggest such depth of innocence merely by her gait. Her hair was bright red and her flesh seemed to give off a reddish aura. He guessed who she was; the girl reporter who had called him that morning. Yes, that was the voice of a virgin... it had made Paul's skin crawl just to hear it.

He watched her from his living-room window as she clicked her high heels down the driveway... She was tiny but her legs were magnificent and her walk had a swing to it that made every curve and crevice show even though she obviously wasn't aware of it. When she turned to start up his front stairs, he saw and measured the shape and fullness of her lovely young ass beneath the thin material of her dress. Where my eyes are now, he told himself, my hands soon will be.

He listened to her feet on the neatly painted wooden stairs as he opened his liquor cabinet and placed a small, white pill behind a Scotch bottle. The soft chimes sounded as she punched the doorbell, and he walked slowly to the door.

"Miss Flanders?" he said, ushering her in. Her face was equal to the rest of her. She was beautiful, and she was a virgin or his name wasn't Paul Hanley, the hymen breaker, now looking for number sixteen.

"I am sorry you had to climb those stairs, Miss Flanders. Let me get you a drink."

Before Nan could say anything the fatherly appearing Paul Hanley had seated her on the couch and handed her an ice-filled glass of Scotch and soda.

The room seemed inexplicably dark to her. Curtains filtered the midday sunlight and only one lamp was burning, its soft glow causing sparkles to glint from the bottles and glasses on the liquor cabinet beneath it. The room was expensively furnished and every inch a man's study; all leather and darkly gleaming wood.

He sat next to her and pulled a coffee table closer to them for their drinks.

She took a notebook from her purse. "I'm trying to find out all I can about Mrs. Jetty," she said as businesslike as possible. His closeness made her a little nervous.

His body seemed to stiffen at her remark. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "Were the two of you very close?"

"It's all right," he said. "I think I can talk about poor Mae. She was a wonderful woman, you know... but her death... was so recent."

His face seemed to Nan that of a father who had lost a daughter, its expression so deeply sad and yet brave. She reached out almost involuntarily and touched him. He immediately clutched her hand in both of his.

"You... you're obviously a very understanding person," he said, "despite your youth."

Nan was touched and she felt herself blushing. No older person had ever given her credit for being understanding... and Mr. Hanley was such a fatherly looking and kind man.

I've got you, you little cunt! Hanley was thinking. He watched how she sat, pressing her legs together and primly holding her untouched drink balanced on one knee while her notebook sat uselessly beside her. Press your beautiful thighs against that untouched pussy, a voice inside him was screaming. I'll be there... and damn soon. This looks easier than I thought... easier even than Mae had been.

"I kind of get the feeling that Mrs. Jetty was like a daughter to you," Nan said tentatively, interrupting his thoughts.

"Well, not exactly," Hanley said. "More like a friend. We were partners, you know... long ago we were partners in business... and in other... activities."

"What sort of... uh... activities... if you don't mind my asking?"

"Life itself, my child. All the activities that make life worth living were shared between that darling girl and me. You must drink your drink, my dear, or the ice will melt and ruin it."

Mr. Hanley wasn't much older that her editor, thought Nan, but what a difference. Old Lopez with his leering eyes and his dirty stories was no equal to this man, who was apparently so human, and yet so worldly. It must be his broad experience in life that made him affect her this way... made her feel safe and somehow warm. She finished her drink and put it down.

He was up like a cat, though she hardly noticed his movement as being overly fast, so enchanted with him was she.

"One more drink before we talk," he said. He walked noiselessly to the bar. As fresh ice tinkled into the glass, the small white pill went in too. A little time, he thought, to let it melt... a little more Scotch in this one. She's almost ready. We'll start with a little of Mae's favorite pornographic art and then up that virgin cunt we go.

Fixing his face in the fatherly look that she seemed to appreciate, he turned to her again. "Just the other day I received a gift from Mae... from the Orient," he said. "There on the table."

He indicated a large book on Indian temples. Nan picked it up. It was heavy and she set its back in the crevice of her legs and opened it.

"Mae was a great believer in all facets of life," said Hanley, wishing the pill would melt a little faster. "Just like the Hindus, she wanted every act of man to be honored for itself." As he watched her face, she began to blush again, this time more deeply.

She had opened the book in the middle somewhere and the pages she saw on her lap contained two views of an old temple that was ringed for decoration, she supposed, by row upon row of human statues, men and women, engaged for all time in every possible act of sex. All around the temple, these lifeless rocks had their lithic members inserted halfway into lithic cavities, anal and oral as well as vulval.

He sat next to her, this time even closer, and handed her another drink. She could feel his closeness now but was too overwhelmed by what she was looking at to be wary of him. "You need this, apparently," meaning the drink, "but you mustn't be shocked," his fatherly smile assured her, "at this ancient and very respected monument to man's most delightful activity... Mae would be in full accord with me when I say that what you see there are acts as holy as any prayer... for, in fact, this is a holy temple dedicated to an ancient and very important pantheon."

He placed his body against her and put his arm around her to help her hold the book up. He turned a page and Nan almost gasped to see that close-ups of the statues that were printed there.

"You see the deep respect for their subject the artists had when they carved this holy relic. Only a virgin would fail to appreciate the full impact, the full meaning... but you must drink your drink, my child. And then we'll discuss more of Mae's hobbies and thoughts."

Nan, lost in confusion and shock, didn't have the presence of mind not to obey. She downed her drink in one gulp and set the glass on the table. It was Hanley's turn to gasp. He had never seen anyone take the whole pill all at once. God only knows what would happen now.

Nan closed the book, trying to keep her mind on business, to crowd out the images of those stone fornicators. Fumbling for her notebook, she started to ask him something, but just then a volcano erupted in her stomach. Hot lava flowed through her, sending heat right out to her fingers and toes, but centering in her pelvis and now moving slowly into her vagina. She was afraid to look for fear smoke would be rising from her lap.

"You drank too fast," he said, moving his arm... "Oops! I'm terribly sorry." He had spilled his drink down the front of her dress and Nan, emotionally flustered by the heat raging through her, began to cry.

She felt the cold liquid slide down the hollow between her breasts, then over her belly, finally into her panties and down all the way into her pubic hair and between her legs. Her nether lips were so hot from the recent explosion in her insides that she was surprised the liquid didn't sizzle when she felt its freezing cold inundate her cunt. A little ice cube-filled puddle lay in her lap.

"You must get out of those wet things," Hanley said, his voice dripping with fatherly concern. '"You poor thing, you could catch your death."

She looked at him, her face a study in desperate confusion and, he could see, underlying passion brought about by his own secret cure for virginity. Over the years, that little white pill has served him well... and most of them blamed themselves so he got them at least one more time when they came back to apologize.

"In the other room," he instructed, "you'll find a nice warm robe. We can put your things in the dryer while we talk." He was using a handy towel to pat and dry her lap... lovingly, he stroked the thighs under her dress and, like a good mother hen, admonished her to hurry and get into something warm.

Hanley kept his air conditioner on high for such occasions as these, and Nan was freezing by the time he had finished drying her off. Beginning to be suspicious of his motives, she was almost afraid to go into the next room for fear it would be a bedroom and for fear that she would not be alone in there for long.

It was not a bedroom, she was relieved to discover when she had closed the door behind her, and he hadn't even made a move to pursue her. Guilt flowed through her for thinking evil of Hanley who, after all, was only trying to help her get to know Mae as he had. Such intimate knowledge was extremely valuable.

The room was an office. It was connected to a bathroom and beyond that to the bedroom. By handy chance, it seemed to her, a large man's robe was thrown over a typewriter on the room's only piece of furniture, a table. The muscles of her pelvis agitated her movements as she undressed. She couldn't understand why they dilated and contracted in a motion equal to her pulse; she couldn't understand the strange heat that suffused her crotch and made her pubic lips quiver as if in anticipation; she couldn't understand the hollow aching in her vaginal regions.

She came back with the robe wrapped around her, completely covering the naked morsel within it. Hanley smiled warmly as he took her wet clothes. When they were safely in the dryer and the machine set to run for too short a time, he came back and mixed them two more drinks. Now it starts, he thought gleefully... the last act.

He sat close to her and began to tell her about Mae Gail Jetty's rise to financial success. He wrote out a list for her of other people in town who had known Mae. He talked for several minutes, and appeared very engrossed in his subject-then he stopped. Nan's crotch was a seething cauldron. The terrible aching in it was expanding all the way up to the pit of her stomach. A great hard knot seemed to be forming in her tummy and she was at a loss to explain to herself the churning desire between her thighs.

"My, dear, I can't help noticing that you're squirming. Do I make you uncomfortable?" He put a comforting arm around her.

"No. I don't know what's wrong."

"Does your stomach bother you... perhaps the drink is too heady..." his hand went into the robe and began to massage the bare flesh of her belly.

His touch made her jump as it resounded through her, cell by cell, awakening something that had lain dormant all her life. She could feel whole new sets of muscles working within her, trying to gain expression on their own, apparently whether or not she wanted to allow it. A flexing and relaxing motion in her crotch was causing her to wriggle where she sat, as if her hind end was trying to rut itself into the cushion.

Her first thought was to hit him and try to make a run for it, clothes or no clothes. She only had to make it to her car and then drive home to get a new dress. But something wouldn't let her do anything to stop him. Two opposing points of view struggled in her guts, one warning her she was about to be raped, the other pooh-poohing the whole idea, declaring that a nice man like Mr. Hanley would never do anything to hurt her. She honestly didn't know how to react. She knew, however, that she had better do something, so she said, "Oh. That feels good. That feels much better... very soothing... I don't know what's come over me."

His warm hand was a welcome sensation on her chilly flesh. He rubbed slowly, his hand making an ever-widening circle until she tingled to feel it touch her pubic hair on the down-sweep and both her breasts on the upsweep.

Like her crotch, her breasts were throbbing in an ever-tightening ache. She could feel them getting harder each time his circling hand touched them. He's doing that on purpose, she thought. He doesn't have to rub everything I've got; it was just my tummy we were talking about. It was no use thinking about it or offering any objections to it, however, because her breasts were thickening with longing and seemed to want to be touched, rubbed, massaged, and even... their painful swelling brought her to another small crisis and she couldn't help herself-was even surprised to hear herself-when she cried, "Oh, Mr. Hanley, would you... could you... would it be awful of me..."

"My poor child, what is it?"

"It's only... I don't know... My breasts do ache so..."

"Why certainly," he agreed readily.

Opening the robe, he exposed two large, round, full white, pink-tipped, hardening breasts that throbbed to the touch of his hands, both of which now went to work to massage those ripe young elastic bulbs.

"Ooooohhh," she moaned. "I never felt so goooood."

Nan could feel his hot hands kneading and plying the foam-backed flesh of her breasts. It sent warmth through her whole being as he worked around them, cupping them so that only the red nipples stuck out, pressing them together to rub one nipple against the other until they became so hard she was afraid they would shatter like two glass knobs.

Then he placed both palms over the nipples and pressed them in a circular motion as if trying to rub her breasts back into her chest. When he let go they sprang back into shape and he cupped them again so that the nipples looked out between each thumb and forefinger. She was fascinated, watching his manipulations with glazed eyes. Then she saw his face move closer, then the top of his graying head as she at once smelled his hair oil and felt her left nipple enter something warm and wet.

Hanley kept his eyes open and saw then blue veins in the flesh of her chest and breasts and he began a gentle sucking of the nipple in his mouth. He worked his tongue on the nipple and shifted position to move more of the breast into his mouth while the tongue teased the nipple, licking from the bottom, then from the top and then in a swirling motion that made her body twitch in pain and pleasure.

Nan felt a movement in her vagina with every pull of Hanley's rhythmically sucking mouth. The ache in the belly, rather than diminishing, was ballooning. She tingled all over, but didn't understand what was happening to her. She only knew it couldn't stop... if it stopped, she'd die. She had no other thoughts until his mouth took the other breast and she felt the cold air surround her abandoned left nipple as the moist warmth of him embraced the right.

No, she cried from within: No. No. He's going to try to rape me. I've let him go too far. He's got to stop... even if the aching in my stomach kills me.

"Please stop," she said weakly. "Please, Mr. Hanley. We're not animals... are we? We mustn't do this."

His only answer was to bite her nipple, jerking a scream of pain from her. "Oooww. God, that hurts. Don't do it like that."

But that wasn't all, she soon realized. She was relaxed so thoroughly that her firmly closed legs had fallen laxly apart and his probing hand darted between her thighs, one finger rubbing the lips of her cunt from just inside them. It tried to enter her but she was sitting and he couldn't get his fist deep enough between her now clamping thighs. She felt the juices of her cunt laving his finger as it moved up one lip to the front and down the other all the way to the back of her precious opening. Back and forth it went sliding in her lubricating fluids, constantly pressuring to enter her and seek out her clitoris as his shoulder pressed against her, trying to force her into a lying position, and his mouth sucked at her breasts, alternately taking each into it and holding it so that his tongue could renew its attack on her nipple.

A tremendous throbbing was coming from her pubic muscles. She could feel her vagina open and close, fairly wriggling to get at the finger now trying to enter her. She knew she couldn't resist much longer and, loathing her own weakness, she began sliding down the couch's support cushions to lie on her back.

The throbbing inside her was now out of control, unstoppable and uncontainable, in the deep unentered recesses of her womb. She wanted to feel his penis inside her; she knew now that what she wanted was described by that ugly, awful word she had never mouthed. She wanted to be fucked, had to be fucked... if that was what would quiet her raging insides... even to be raped.

Hanley sensed her going down. With one last push, he had her on her back and was immediately on top of her and between her rising knees. He swept open the robe and drew in his breath at the rare beauty before him. Her flesh seemed to be a golden red and gave off an aura of that color. Her full, round breasts stood straight up, so hard were they, and throbbed out the meter of lust. The belly button centered in her soft white belly was an eye of desire; the red hairs of her pubic vee sent rosy invitations all the way through him down to his dancing prick, still imprisoned by his trousers. The hair between her legs curled around a virgin's cunt that, due to the aphrodisiac he had given her, called him with trembling red lips. His clothes practically flew off his body of their own accord and his prick leaped up to answer the call. It stood out erect and pulsating, its slit offering a drop of lubricant to the goddess cavern trying to open itself to his planned thrust.

Nan, through passion-hazed eyes, saw him throw away his shirt before she realized his pants were already on the floor. Then she saw his prick... that first one she had ever seen. Its head was purple-red and slimy from his juices-she wondered if he had already cum-its thick shaft was distended with blue veins and the whole thing jerked up and down in rhythm with his pulse just as her womb seemed to be opening and closing with hers. His foreskin had already been pulled back and the little slit in the head of his prick seemed to be opening, creating such a hole that she thought she could have inserted her little finger into it.

Despite the condition of his lust-filled member, Paul was in control of himself. He leaned over her, caressing her breasts again. They were by now painfully sensitive, but his touch felt good. She lay there with her eyes closed, waiting for something else to happen. She was afire but also scared, and she lay, her eyes wide open now with as much fear as desire, like some poor helpless creature of the jungle confronted by a killer snake.

Paul moved over her, letting go of her breasts. She closed her eyes again, not knowing what to do. He kissed her belly, licking furtively into her belly button, then continued down... down. She started to grit her teeth when she felt the first gentle kiss of his hot lips against her hungry virginal cunt. She almost went insane. He began to lick that aching slit, and the touch and feel of his wet tongue sent her into a new physical state of readiness. That's how it was, she thought, marveling, for she had never realized that there was so much to the sex act. She groaned and joyous ripples of pleasure spread out through her. Now Paul found the clitoris with his tongue and, licking as he went, moved down to her tightly puckered little anus. Then he changed technique, like the master he was, and his lips became a vacuum cleaner at her vagina. So powerful was his effort that she feared momentarily that he would suck every organ right out through her cunt.

Then, with his hands strategically placed between her warm satiny thighs, he began opening with his thumbs the pink fringed slit so delicate-looking with its soft red hair, two tiny glistening droplets of moisture dampening the little pink inner petals that peeked out at him. Now a hideous lust came over him and showed in his face as Mr. Hyde finally emerged from the defeated Dr. Jekyll.

Suddenly she wanted out from under him, wanted his laving tongue to get away from her virgin slit. But she lay seemingly rooted to the couch, her terror-filled eyes pleading, as he again placed his thumbs to rest on the soft, fleshy lips of her cunt and torturously drew them apart, spreading the soft curls of pubic hair and laying open her moist, coral-tinted secret flesh to his no longer paternal gaze.

Nan now saw herself as if from outside her body and was repulsed at what she was allowing to happen. But her body wouldn't respond to her inner cries to escape.

She cringed in revulsion as she felt the hot wisps of his breath graze her sensitive, virginal flesh, never before defiled, and she moaned aloud in hopeless shame, her head raised, her breath strangling in her throat as she heard him issue an animal grunt and saw his face drop... abruptly she felt the full length of his hot tongue plunge wetly up into her tight, quivering vaginal passage. She struggled but her own passion overwhelmed her. She closed her soft warm thighs convulsively around his moving head. She could feel his ears wiggling against the velvety inner thighs. She screamed unrestrainedly when he suddenly bit her sensitive clitoris.

She was completely at his mercy. Nothing now existed but the insistent throbbing in her cunt and the tongue that now laved it with oral desires. Her back was arched like a bridge as it bent upward toward his eager lips. Her feet dug into the cushions beneath her and then she thought she felt something happening inside her, a new explosion like the one she so unexplainably experienced just a short while ago.

Throwing her legs apart, she flailed them, kicking her feet in joy and lust and the volcano erupted again, not in her stomach this time but in her cunt, and she felt a release so deep it was almost spiritual wash down her passage into the mouth of her attacker. She collapsed, her legs falling on the couch. Thinking that was all, she stirred to get up, but felt him lifting her knees and pushing them up until they pressed against her softening breasts and the soles of her feet aimed right at the ceiling. She opened her eyes. His face was next to hers and he kissed her savagely; she tasted for the first time the honey of her own cunt and the singular acidic sweetness of her own cum.

Gradually, Paul Hanley lowered himself onto her body. And now she could feel the hardness of that awesome male instrument down there where, only a minute before, her juices had flooded his soft hot mouth. She was about to be fucked-fucked like she had never imagined it would be... by a total stranger. The understanding of what was happening took over her drugged brain, but it didn't matter. She felt herself tensing, preparing for she knew not what.

He was over her, holding her knees to her chest, his cock rubbing against her slime-washed cunt, now wide open and pulsing to his ravening eyes. His flesh was blotchy red with his age, and a little potbelly sagged from his middle, but his cock was only in its twenties by the look of it. Without using his hands, he moved its head into the yawning red slit. It lodged before the whole head was in, and would go no further despite the lungings of his hip and ass muscles.

She felt like she was being split in two. Don't, she screamed to herself. "It's too big, Mr. Hanley," she pleaded. "You'll split me in two. Please don't try."

"Never you mind," he said. "There's always a way."

Gripping her knees again, he spread her legs as far as they would go, then pulled a cushion from the back of the couch and stuffed it under her hind end. "Hold your legs as far up and out as you can," he instructed, "and rest your beautiful bottom on this pillow."

He let go her legs and, holding his prick with one hand while spreading her cuntlips with the fingers of the other, he relodged the head of his manroot and began pushing his way into her vital parts. After the first inch he stopped. "Hurt?" He looked at her.

It had been painful, but she was afraid he would stop if she admitted it. "No. It's all right."

He wiggled his hips more violently and worked in another inch. "Okay?"

She was squirming in pain but could feel her cuntal walls adjusting to his size. "Keep going," she said. The soft rustling movement of his hairy scrotum against her tender, wide-open asshole was driving her crazy. With each of his movements, that pendulous cum-filled bag plopped on her dilating sphincter and cuddled her cheeks excitingly.

Paul was about to lose all control. He felt her sheathing him tighter than any girl, even any virgin, had ever done. His prick seemed trapped and he didn't know if he had enough patience to continue working it in with slow massage and buildup of her juices. She had to stretch and, of course, she would stretch before he was through with her. She would open wide and swallow him down and the suction he could feel on his throbbing prick would become a tool to ultimately help use men as she wanted. She had the same type cunt that Mae used to have. And once you got into it you could never forget it. If this Nan Flanders ever learns how to work her vaginal muscles, she'll have hardons leaping at her from every doorway.

He was in a third inch now and could feel her giving way to his prick, her passage now flowing again with encouraging juices.

"Oh, it's much too big," she complained, tears of pain filling her eyes. He could tell it was hurting her so he worked it out and in again, trying to loosen her up.

She could feel its massiveness inside her and she could tell it had a long way to go. But she couldn't take any more. It was just too big, or her poor battered pussy was just too small. As she felt him moving in and out, she rolled her hips to his rhythm. Looking down between her still erect breasts to her uplifted cunt, she could see as well as feel its lips straining to encompass him. His shaft, most of it still showing was red now and the veins stood out as he began flexing his prick to help her stretch to receive him.

"Oh, God. What are you doing?" she cried. His prick jumped up a size with each flexing action and she could swear it grew even bigger after he relaxed it and flexed it again. Her pubic mouth was wide open for him but it didn't seem to be enough. He was lodged. Stuck. They were like two dogs hung up and the thought of two dogs doing just what she was doing with this man embarrassed her.

Finally he stopped flexing his prick and, to her amazement, it slid a little deeper into her, shattering her virginity with utter finality and tearing at her womb with sharp pain which immediately subsided.

"We're going to make it," he shouted and lunged with all his might driving into her untested vitals.

"Aaaaaarrrrrrggggggghhhhhhh!!!" she screamed.

He thrust it into her again, deeper this time, then pulled all the way out until the head of his prick touched her cuntlips and drove down again still deeper into her torn and bleeding vagina.

"Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh. My God! Oh, my Gawd! Oooooooohhhhh, mmmmmmmyy gggaaaaaaaaaaaawwddd!" she screamed with each painful thrust. Each time he drew all the way out along her quivering passage and each time he slammed it to the hilt to the accompaniment of her screams and a sucking, slushing sound from her cunt.

She writhed under him, the pain declining as a mountain of passion grew up to take its place. She felt it in and out of her, thrusting and retreating only to thrust again as her stretched cuntal walls closed on it again and again, her vagina sucking at it, trying to hold it, opening for it each time it pulled away and drove back in again. "Mmmyyyy gawd, it's gooood! Oh, don't ever stop! Fuck me," she said the word for the first time in her life. "Fuck me deeper and deeeper and deeeeeppeeerrr! Fuck meeeeeeeee!"

Now a flaming, raging, throbbing, churning, boiling flood of passion took over her crotch. She rolled her hips to get him in deeper and then clamped her legs around his ass to keep him in.

"Keep it up," he ordered gruffly. "I'm about to cum!" he shouted.

"Oh, God! Not yet. Please not yet. Puuulease wait."

Trying to hold it, Paul gaped downward at where his prick was slipping smoothly in and out of her unbelievably tight little cunt, concentrating on the spine-shattering sensation of the soft hair-lined folds of her clasping pussy as it clung to his furiously rampaging cock ramming with jackhammer force up into her. As he fucked her, he couldn't help thinking of all the things they could do together. He pictured himself holding her ears as his big cock filled her sucking mouth, he could almost feel her tongue willingly washing the slimy head of his throbbing prick; he could picture her on her hands and knees, glorying in her own nakedness as she rolled her thighs and moaned at his length entering her virgin asshole. But these thoughts didn't help him hold his cum. He couldn't help it, he was about to go off.

She, too, knew that her time was here. Her whole insides seemed to broil with lust and she felt her final explosion was upon her.

His balls shriveled up as they bounced against her asshole and she could feel his prick, now planted firmly inside her as their crotches slammed together in that final lunge, begin to jerk spastically as hot fluid spewed from it washing her insides in a warm and glorious bath.

"I'm going to cuummm!" she shouted.

"Aaaaaaahhh!" he shouted.

"I'm there!" she screamed. "I... I'm... IIII'm ccccuummmmmmmiiinnnnnngggggg!"

He spent into her before she could get started, but she had apparently made it even as his prick was diminishing. He was glad of that. If he made her cum her first time, she was likely to come back some day for more of the same. And she had a pussy he was going to want again and again. Leaving her on the couch, he went into the bathroom.

Nan slept, still wrapped up in Paul Hanley's flannel robe. Her sleep was peaceful and deep and before Paul left the apartment he saw her smile in her sleep and softly moan as her body performed a gentle writhing dance. He left for his office, but intended to come back before she woke up. More of the same was in order, as far as he was concerned, and he would treat her to the best dinner in town. The only trouble was he didn't recover as fast as he used to and he needed a couple of hours in between sessions. In the old days, he thought... ah, but one grows old... the spirit is still willing, but the flesh needs hormone shots. Before leaving he wrote her a note just in case she woke up prior to his return and couldn't wait for him.

When she woke up, Nan realized it was already late afternoon. She felt warm and lazy as she stretched and idly wondered where she was. Then the dull ache in her cunt reminded her as she sat up abruptly clutching the robe around her. She listened to the quiet apartment. Nothing. He must have gone out. She relaxed again for every muscle in her light young body had gone tense. Spreading the robe, she looked down at her poor battered pussy. It hurt from the lips all the way in and she rubbed her crotch tenderly, soothingly as she thought of what had happened. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry... she had saved it purposely for eighteen years to give to whomever she could find to love. Now this! Gone. Taken by a total stranger who just happened to know what he was doing. It was degrading. Gone. Forever. Her cherry was gone leaving only a few drops of blood and the crust of their mutual spend in her red pubic hair.

Well, she finally realized, the world hasn't ended... and I've still got a job to do. There was a note on the coffee table. "My dear child," it read, "Thank you so much. Nothing is sweeter to an old man than the love of children. Your clothes are in the dryer. Please call or come to see me again. And I'll be happy to help you with your story-anytime. Paul."

"Mr. Hanley," she said aloud, "I'm sure there's a name for you. I just haven't been around long enough to learn it."

She got her clothes and went home, not forgetting to take with her the list of Mae's friends that Hanley had written.