Chapter 4

Turk Crumm threw his head back and roared with laughter. He laughed so hard the tears shone in his eyes. Finally, he slammed the palms of his hands down hard on the desk and looked straight up at the young girl who stood facing him. "A park," he chortled. "You wanna build a park for the poor, unfortunate slobs who live in the ghetto."

"That is correct," Trish said, refusing to be intimidated by the man's ridicule, his sarcasm, his rudeness.

Crumm suddenly stopped laughing. There was a toughness about the girl that suggested a threat to his well-being. She wasn't going to be so easily brushed off. And she could have connections behind her. That he would have to determine, and immediately. "Buildin' a park down here takes dough. You got any bread?"

"No," Trish said bluntly. "I don't have any bread. Not a nickel."

Crumm looked at her curiously. "And you don't work for one of those do-good government projects?"

"I thought I could get more done on my own," Trish informed him, and meant it. She didn't have much faith in bureaucratic organizations. "All I need is your help."

Crumm scowled. "You must be some kind of nut. Comin' into my office without bread or representing some kind of government poverty project. Then you got the gall to ask my help to build a park in this goddamn stinking slum. Who for?"

"The people who live here," Trish replied evenly. "The poor people who live here and have no place to go except the fire escape. Just maybe a park could avert another riot."

Crumm stood up to indicate the interview was at an end. "Parks cost bread. I ain't got none. You ain't got none. End of discussion. I ain't running no charity hall. That's the city's job. Now, if you don't mind running along, I've got work to do. Important work that ain't gonna wait."

"Like the kind of work you do in the basement with married colored women?" Trish asked. There was no change in the expression on her face.

The words froze in Crumm's mouth. He looked as though someone had just kicked him in the groin. His initial warnings about the girl were confirmed. She was tough and determined, and certainly off her nut. She added up to one word, and that word was trouble. "If you think you can shake me down," he said, darkly, "you're gonna be sadly disappointed."

"Blackmail?" Trish echoed, raising her eyebrows in mock surprise. "Perish the thought. But if some of the big boys downtown were to find out their ward boss was having a dangerous kind of sexual relations with a married colored woman in their district, they might be very unhappy with you. In fact, you might find yourself out on your can, and you know it, Mr. Cruram!"

Crum waved a hand for Trish to be seated. Then he sank back in his swivel chair again. The girl was right. The bigshots were sensitive about adverse publicity, especially around election time. However, there was always the possibility the girl was bluffing. "I really don't have any idea of what you are referring to, Miss Lovejoy," Crumm said.

Trish refreshed his mind. "Yesterday. In the basement. You and Hazel. And, oh yes, a little bit of perversion called the sixty-nine."

Crumm grimaced. "If there's anything I hate it's a lowdown snoop."

"I'll admit I was snooping," Trish admitted candidly. "But I'll even stoop to that if it will help the people down here."

Crumm made a face, as though he was slightly upset at the stomach. Girls like Trish were no novelty to him. For the most part they came down to the ghetto to get a piece of ass, despite their lofty motives which they used to delude others as well as themselves. Scrutinizing Trish, he couldn't quite make up his mind about her. Was she really a do-gooder, or was she in reality hoping to get her cunt serviced away from the influence of parents? Trish, Crumm decided quickly, was the kind of dish who would never have trouble finding cock. And there was an aura of electrifying sensuality that the girl naturally exuded. Crumm's eyes danced over the big, shapely tits, the narrow waist, the flaring hips, and the swelling cheeks of Trish's ass. And the shapely, nutcracker legs on the girl were the kind that Crumm like to have wrapped around his rib cage while he pounded cunt. The full, red, and perfectly shaped lips of the girl stimulated him in the exact manner in which they had ravaged the erotic fancies of the president, Crumm kept seeing wild and exciting scenes of fellatio flash before his eyes. The girl was a naturally talented cocksucker. And experiencing a bloodcurdling blow job was Crumm's highest priority, with no exceptions. The ghetto girls were too damned conservative as far as he was concerned. The uptown broads were always more imaginative and skillful when it came to a skin-scorching blow job.

But Crumm was clever enough to play it cool with a girl like Trish. The possibility existed that she could have influential parents or important connections. If he made a wrong move and she hollered, he'd be out on his ass, or could even have a rape charge hung around his neck. And there was always the possibility, also, that the girl was actually sincere and wanted nothing more than to help the ghetto people.

Crumm arrived at a conclusion that he felt would solve his problem with the young, rich and sensually shaped girl who was already making his cock stir by her mere presence. He'd describe the character of the people in the ghetto, the people she thought she wanted to help. And along with that description, he'd throw in a few sexual encounters of his own that typified ghetto life. If she wasn't nauseated, or panting for a hot cock, she had to be a sincere type of do-gooder who intended to stick it out regardless of the obstacles he threw at her. In that event, he'd give her the runaround and get rid of her as painlessly as possible. If she grew nauseated at his description of ghetto life, she'd leave of her own accord. And if she grew naturally excited by all his explicit details of ghetto life in the raw, he'd shove his cock inside her mouth before she left the room. The thought of the possibly impending blow job made his voice tremble a bit as he tried to probe the determined girl.

First he'd try reverse psychology. "The safest thing for you to do, Miss Lovejoy, is to go back home. You ain't gonna help nobody in the ghetto. And I'll tell you why. You're too damned good-looking for your own good. Every man down here who gets one look at the shapely ass of yours will want in, and quick as possible." He peered carefully at the girl to properly assess the results of his frankness. A glow crept into the face of Trish, but aside from that there was no other discernible reaction. And Crumm had no way of determining whether the blush in Trish's face was caused by his blunt language which repelled her or his reference to sex which excited her. There was only one thing to do now, and that was to plunge on and further describe the sex life of a big city ghetto.

But Trish anticipated him. She had already received experience of that nature from President Fowler who had hoped to seduce her with sexy references to his childhood. Trish announced calmly, "If you think you're going to get me all hot and bothered by some ridiculous story involving sex, forget it! Another dirty old man tried that one on me and failed miserably." She smiled sweetly. "So why don't you just help me get the ball rolling, and we'll have us a park down here in no time at all."

Crumm clenched his fists tightly, which he always did whenever he felt angry or thwarted. However, he hadn't gotten to be the ward boss by allowing some seventeen-year-old cunt to outfox him. He stifled his anger and walked around his desk. He sat down on the edge of the desk before Trish who was now seated directly in front of him. He spread his legs as though to emphasize the bulge that refused to soften. He tried to sound reasonable in a tight, restrained voice. "But you ain't got no bread. How do we build a park?" His hand dropped onto his lap in such a way that his fingertips touched the area over his nuts. Every now and then his fingers danced over the cloth that covered his erection.

But Trish paid no attention to such juvenile maneuvers. Instead she plunged on with her plan to build a park in the ghetto. "It's not going to take as much money as you think," she said enthusiastically. She opened her purse and took out a map of the ghetto district. Without permission from Crumm, she spread it over his desk and pointed to a particular area that was already circled in red. "Right here," Trish indicated on the map. "A corner on East Fifth. It's just a vacant lot that apparently no one wants. Right now it's filled with rubbish. I'll find the volunteers and clean it up. I'll even raise the money to plant the grass and trees." She looked up at Crumm. "All you have to do is get city hall to okay the lot as a city park and remove it from the list of city land that's for sale to the highest bidder."

Crumm put on his spectacles and peered closely at the spot on East Fifth that Trish had earmarked for a city park. He was compelled to stifle a laugh. That particular corner lot had already received several bids. But Crumm was holding out for the party who paid him the highest kickback. That particular piece of property represented a tidy little profit for himself. But he said, "I'll give it every consideration, Miss Lovejoy. However, I'm not a type who gladly sticks his neck out to have it chopped off. So don't be surprised if I turn down the plan, as admirable as it may be."

Trish looked at the man closely. "In what manner would you be sticking your neck out to help ghetto dwellers have a park to sit in and enjoy a few hours of every day?"

Crumm heaved a deep and meaningful sigh. "D'you think you're the first do-gooder to come down here for a bit of slumming?"

"I'm sure there have been others before me," Trish replied evenly. "But I fail to see any positive results of their presence. The people down here look miserable."

"They are miserable," Crumm said pleasantly. "'Cause that's the way they like it! For your info, I already built a park for these no-good buggers down here. And what happened?"

"I'm sure you'll tell me," Trish said skeptically. She had familiarized herself with the history of the ghetto area, and had not uncovered any period when a park had been turned over to the enjoyment of the people.

"You bet your sweet ass I'll tell you," Crumm said. "There ain't nothin' about it on the record books now. But believe you me, it happened. There was a park down here. And I was the moving power behind it. And for my pains, I almost got a jail rap hung around my neck. And balls, too," he added for good measure.

Trish's skepticism cracked and began to fall away. The man sounded too emphatic to be making up the story. And he had voluntarily and partially cleared up the reason she couldn't find any record of such a park. Something had happened to demolish the entire park project and make the city hall people erase any mention of the park from the records. But what? "What happened?" Trish asked apprehensively, for her own future in the ghetto depended on the answer.

Crumm relaxed in his chair again. But he tried to look very sober, and sad too, as he recalled the history of a good dead project that went sour and almost sent him to prison. "They tried to hang a rape charge on me," he said. "They accused me of trying to fuck a young girl, thirteen years of age."

"There seems to be no end to your talents, Mr. Crumm," Trish said with open revulsion. Where there was sexual smoke around this slob, there had to be fire, she reasoned.

"I was innocent!" Crumm snapped. "I was framed. That's how everything got dropped and hushed up. But that was the end of the park I tried so hard to build for these no-good assholes your heart is bleeding so hard to help."

Trish folded her arms. "Nothing you can say is going to dissuade me from building a park in this ghetto. But I could possibly profit from the mistakes and pitfalls you already made. Let's have it," she snapped. "And you'd better be telling the truth."

Crumm raised his one hand. "So help me, I wouldn't try to snow you, Miss Lovejoy. But please listen and pay heed to these gray hairs of experience I got the hard way. You can bet your sweet ass you'll benefit from my past errors. Got an idea you'll even turn tail and head back to Park Avenue where you can enjoy life like a nice, normal rich girl. No one will think the worse of you."

"Without the bird seed," Trish said blandly. "Just tell me what happened." She was convinced that Crumm was too coarse a person to be invested with imagination. His story would probably be partly true, she decided. It would be up to Trish to determine the part that was true and the part Crumm embellished upon.

Crumm leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. His voice sounded dreamy s as he reached back into his memory about a park in the ghetto and his near-miss with disaster. "A bunch of do-gooders sent us a bunch of dough with the orders we gotta build a park for the ghetto people." His eyes slid halfway open. "Y'see, you ain't the first one with this park idea for the ghetto assholes."

"And you actually built the park?" Trish asked incredulously.

"The park got built," Crumm said emphatically. "I saw to it personally. Lots of grass and trees, and the statue of a little kid in a fountain with water running out of his dick. I tell you, it was terrific."

"Then what happened?" Trish asked impatiently.

Crumm became melancholy-faced. "Y'see, there was only enough money to build us one John."

Trish looked wide-eyed. "The men and women used the same toilet?"

"Sure. They've been doing that in Europe for centuries. No big scene. And we even got a special permit from city hall to do the same in the park."

"A boy and a girl got caught together in the park toilet," Trish said resignedly.

"A man and a girl, to be exact," Crumm corrected.

"A man?" Trish looked suspicious.

And her suspicions were well founded. "That's right," Crumm replied. "A man and a girl. A thirteen-year-old girl, to be more exact."

"Of course, you were the man," Trish said, more as a statement than an accusation.

Crumm shrugged. "It ain't the way you think it was. Y'see, one night I happened to be in the park. Takin' a stroll like the rest of the ghetto people, of which I am one. I got the urge to take a piss. So I dropped down into the basement John we built for the park. The minute I started to relieve myself this girl walks in. And instead of going to her own side, she just stands and watches me. Or, to be exact again, watches my cock. Can't take her eyes off it. Probably it was the first man's prick she'd ever seen."

"And instead of going about your business, you took advantage of an impressionable thirteen-year-old girl," Trish said, this time with an accusatory tone of voice.

"Wrong," Crumm sniffed. "The kid took advantage of me. At first I couldn't do much when I was leaking. I had to finish and let her look at me with her round, curious, and excited eyes. When I got through and shook the dick a bit, I turned immediately to the kid. 'You ain't supposed to be here while a man is takin' a piss,' I told her.

"The kid just continued to stare back at my cock, and she didn't say a word. She was a pretty little thing with long, blonde hair down to her waist. Her eyes were round and blue, and you could tell that when she grew a bit older she was going to be a real pretty doll. Tits were already pushing out of her chest, and the tight sweater outlined the curving shape of her tits as well as the hard, pointed nipples that must have been pulsating for a suck. The kid was wearing one of those miniskirts which gave me an eyeful of legs that were firm and already shapely. The kid's cheeky ass rolled out at you, and her skirt was so tight I could almost see her asshole. The cleavage between the cheeks were very well defined. And although she couldn't have been more than thirteen years old, there was already a sensual aroma about her. I could almost sense that she thought about cock morning, noon and night. And there wasn't any doubt in my mind at all that she was an expert masturbator. Probably she jacked off four or five times a day. And her pussy must have been itching because she was roaming about late at night. Either she was looking for a fuck or was in hopes of watching a hot fucking scene between an indiscreet ghetto couple." Crumm's gappy teeth showed as he smiled. "We ghetto people ain't so modest when it comes to body functions. On a summer night, it's a common sight to see a lot of boys and girls screwing in some alley or behind a store. I've even watched a beautiful fuck between a couple standing up on a fire escape." And at the memory of the fire escape scene of copulation, he broke out into a noisy chuckle.

Trish cut in impatiently. "I said without the bird seed. Just tell me why the park was demolished. If sex is so common and open in the ghetto, I can't really believe that any great scandal was caused because a thirteen-year-old girl saw your exposed penis. I'm sure a ghetto girl is familiar with the sight of a man's exposed penis long before she's thirteen years of age."

Crumm shrugged. "It went a lot farther than a thirteen-year-old kid takin' a look at my cock."

"Yet you claim you didn't take advantage of the situation."

Crumm raised his hands and assumed the look of an innocent but much maligned character. "Gimme a chance to explain. I told the kid to get lost, but she just kept staring at my cock. In fact, she took a step closer to get a better look." He sighed. "I'll admit I was weak. After all, I ain't made outa iron. When I realized how excited she was growing at the mere sight of my prick, the shaft began to slide outwards, and the next thing I knew I had a king-sized bone on. Now the girl was really impressed. She had probably peeked at a man's exposed dick before. But she certainly never saw a cock erect before her eyes. It was a bit of magic she wasn't prepared for. She took another step closer, and all the time she never once could take her eyes off my cock flesh. And incidentally, my cock bone was getting bigger and redder by the minute. Finally the kid looked up at me and asked appealingly, 'Oh mister, it's beautiful. May I touch it?'

"My first impulse was to refuse the request and kick her little ass outa the John. But every pore in my body was aching for the touch of her soft, virginal thirteen-year-old hand over my old cock. I had never fucked a virgin before, and already I was getting this notion to feel my shaft in the tight, hairless cunt of my little virgin who was so much on fire to look at my prick.

"My throat was very dry when I answered her. And my voice sounded so strange, I thought it belonged to someone else. 'Okay,' I said. 'Just touch it, and then you'll have to get outa here. If someone came in and caught me with you, I'd be in trouble.'

"'I don't want to make any trouble, mister,' she said, wide-eyed. But instead of turning and walking away, she reached out with her shapely but firm fingers and took hold of the shaft. The feel of that kid's hand over my cock bone almost blacked me out. An explosion ripped through my entire body like an atomic bomb. And right there and then, I knew I was hooked. I just had to fuck her or go outa my mind."

Trish said disgustedly, "So you did make the first move to get into the young girl's pants."

"Oh, no," Crumm said with wide-eyed innocence. "Nothing like that at all. That kid was in charge of the scene. And believe me, she knew what she wanted. At first she was just content to hold the bone. Then her grip tightened and I thought she'd break it off. I wanted to push her away and walk outa there before it was too late. But I just stood there, paralyzed, wondering what the kid was going to do next.

"I didn't have long to find out. Her fingers relaxed their grip but started to dance up and down the shaft. She looked up at me with a mischievous smile. 'How does it feel when I do that, mister?' she asked.

"By now, the cock cream was beginning to feel real heavy in my nuts, and I gotta fight down the compulsion to grab her, pull down her pants and stick my cock inside her tight cunt. Or would it be so tight after all her jacking-off exercises? But by superhuman effort, I gained control of myself and did nothing at all. Then I felt those soft, cool and beautifully shaped fingers steal all the way towards the base of my cock shaft and very gently caress my soft nuts. I winced with agony at the effort it took to hold myself together. 'Don't,' I pleaded in a strangled voice.

"For reply, the kid started to jiggle my nuts all the harder and pull on them. Never before in my life had I ever experienced such a sensation that was charged with both ecstasy and anguish at the same time. My cock bone raised itself up even higher. In fact, I'd never seen it strive for such a high angle. There wasn't any doubt that every impulse in my brain was frantically sending out orders for me to fuck the girl and the devil with the consequences. 'Have you ever been fucked before?' I asked the girl.

"The kid shook her head. 'No. But I sure would like to feel a great big old hard cock poked into my pussy.'

"The girl's desire for sex, and the easy way in which she referred to her desires, was almost potent enough to make me blow my nuts right there and then. But I took a tight grip on my emotions. Maybe there was even time to back out of the whole thing yet. I took hold of the kid's hand and pulled it off my cock bone. With the willpower it must take to move mountains, I managed to whisper in a hoarse voice, 'I'm gettin' outa here before I get into trouble.'

"When that kid saw I meant business, she calmly stepped back and raised her miniskirt up to her waist. She wasn't wearing a thing underneath. Her tiny and fleshy little cunt was the most delicious-looking thing I'd ever seen in my life. And I'd seen many cunts before. The cunt lips weren't drawn together as tightly as I thought they'd be. In fact, there was enough space between them to suggest she'd been fucked before. Or maybe constant and determined masturbation, which I'm sure she engaged in, pried the lips apart and gave them a mature kind of look. The little darling was just beginning to sprout hairs around her pussy. But what hairs she did have were long, blonde and fluffy. The kind I wouldn't mind pulling into my mouth at all. And to my utter surprise, the kid's clitoris, her precious, little female prick, was in a state of prominent erection and was as big as the clit on most mature women. Now I felt positive that she'd been fucked before. And with that knowledge my conscience no longer bothered me."

"Your conscience?" Trish echoed in disbelief.

"Yeah! My conscience!" Crumm replied angrily. "I was a victim of circumstances. I don't go around blowing thirteen-year-old kids."

Trish felt he was going into a lot of irrelevant detail. All she wanted were the details about the park, and she told him as much.

Crumm said sourly, "Just let me tell it in my own way. I'm trying to paint the whole picture for you so you won't waste any more of your time or mine about that goddamn park. Excuse my French, but I almost got a jail sentence on account of that little piece of greenery for the ghetto bums."

"All right," Trish agreed. "But must you be so explicit? I've got the picture. Really!"

"You only think you've got the picture," Crumm said, peering at her with sharp, appraising eyes. Was he getting to her? At that particular moment, he wanted to fuck Trish a lot more than he lusted after the cunt of a thirteen-year-old kid. And before she left the room, Crumm promised himself that he'd sink his cock between Trish's legs. Crumm decided that he was definitely affecting Trish's cunt with his lurid description of the sexual encounter between himself and the sexually precocious thirteen-year-old girl. Trish's face looked redder than normal, for one thing. And she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs as though her cunt was heating up. Pleased with himself, and the warm feeling of anticipation of Trish's cunt, Crumm resumed his narrative. "I remember how I kept staring at the girl's cunt as though I was paralyzed. I couldn't move, I could hardly raise my voice above a whisper. 'Do you like it?' she asked me with a smile.

"Then she turned around and gave me a good look at the cheeks of her ass. Believe me, they were sweet as peaches. I could have dropped to my knees and taken a big bite out of each ass cheek. And to my utter surprise, that horny little kid flicked one cheek aside with her hand and gave me an unobstructed look inside her asshole. For some reason, the kid had a lot of hairs growing out of her rectum. And that profusion of long, wiry asshole hairs gave a sharp and erotic contrast to her entire body which was otherwise devoid of sex hairs. The saliva seeped out of my lips as I hungered to drive my tongue straight up her ass and feel each one of her cheeks on either side of my face. Believe me, I was a tormented man, a man who struggled every inch of the way with his baser instincts."

"And your baser instincts won the battle," Trish said, a bit on the sarcastic side. Obviously the man had the morals of a goat. And any female, white or colored, from thirteen to seventy-five could very easily seduce him. And the nucleus of an idea began to shape itself in her mind. Suppose she played him along? Not give in to him, or anything like that. But suppose she merely suggested that the possibility of a lay existed. Would she then be able to gain his much-needed support?

At the moment, Crumm was locked in the struggle with lust and the memory of the girl.

The memory of that precocious child of puberty with her edible-looking cunt, her just-formed tits, her curving ass and firm ball-breaker legs fired him up again. "Yes, I lost the struggle," he said in a choked voice. "I simply had to taste her flesh, eat her cunt, drive my pulsating prick deep in the heart of her love box. And the girl, as young as she was, kept smiling at me in her silent way, egging me on, daring me. And when I still hesitated, her face twisted in a sneer as though she doubted my manhood. Finally a scream tore out of my throat as I fell to my knees before this tiny goddess of love.

"Very calmly, the girl unfastened the belt around her miniskirt and let it drop to her feet. Then she slithered out of her sweater and stood stark and lustfully naked before my eyes. 'Eat it,' she whispered caressingly in my ear. 'Tongue it, lap it. Do the same thing to me I saw the delivery boy do to my mom.'

"The world of sanity faded away, and all that remained were two people. Me and my darling love child whose precious cunt began to moisten ever so slightly. The drops of love dew that oozed out of her crack came from the heart of her cunt. Her virginal cunt. She was offering this treasure to me, Turk Crumm, a man who had fought and kicked for everything he'd ever received. And this wonderful doll of desire was willfully offering up her delicious naked body to me alone. I would be the first in her cunt. The first to ravish her tits, her slightly curved belly, her daringly swollen ass cheeks, her firm, strong legs. She was giving herself to me alone. And like a demented fool, I had hesitated, been full of doubts and fears. I swept aside all these craven thoughts and became the bold and daring man I had always wanted to be. 'Darling, darling,' I babbled like a fool, 'you're my own true love.' And without further hesitation, I grabbed each cheek of her ass with my hands and buried my face up against her cunt. The kid's smile faded and was replaced by a lust that gripped her face and made it old-looking.

"'Suck my cunt,' she cried out, and in her innocent-looking face danced the eyes of a whore. My long, curving tongue bolted out and made contact with an almost hairless and virginal cunt. The girl's head snapped back, and she let out an unearthly sounding wail that reverberated throughout the entire lavatory and drifted upwards into the park. I didn't care. All that mattered to me or had any meaning was my tongue up against a virginal cunt. I started to lick the entire gash from top to bottom, and my head bobbed up and down like a little puppy-dog licking her own cunt.

"As I sucked, the darling child spread the cheeks of her ass out in such a way that my one finger naturally dropped into the crevice of ass and buried itself between the two cheeks and finally into the rectal love tube. This feeling of my finger stuffed deeply and tightly up her ass must have been an extremely exciting one for the girl, for her screams grew more shrill, more desperate, more perverted. And during this period, I was especially rewarded by observing the erection of her tiny clit. It jutted out like a hard and shiny white piece of gristle and seemed to cry out for a mouth. Instinctively I sucked the entire female but virginal cock into my mouth. Once again I was rewarded with a series of screams that rollercoastered out of her mouth, and ricocheted against the walls, the ceilings, and I'm positive burst out of the room and into the park. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except this beautifully pure act of cunnilingus. I sucked so hard my jaw muscles started to ache. But that didn't even matter. My goal was near, I knew. My goal of cunt juices flowing unabatedly into my mouth. I became like a man bereft of his senses. I had to make my darling come. I had to be the very first male to drink the juices of love that would gush out from deep within the box of perpetual love.

"And as I sucked so furiously, I looked up into my darling's face and eyes. Lust was still her mistress. And this was reflected in her clit, which was growing longer, harder and hotter in my mouth. Was that my imagination? It didn't matter. But I swear her tiny clit seemed to fill up the entire space inside my mouth. And now the time had come to apply my expertise as a cunt lapper. It seemed as though every cunt I had ever possessed with my mouth in the past was merely a prelude leading up to this one, great, and glorious moment. Soon, very soon, I'd be rewarded.

"The girl grabbed hold of my head and commenced to slam her cunt back and forth against my face. And as her hips thrust back and forth and gyrated, I slid my tongue over her clit and under it and alongside of it. I nibbled at the head, the shaft, and even drove my fleshy mouth cock deep into her vagina where no other tongue or cock had ever visited before me. The vagina, the true valley of cunt, felt hot and wet and steaming with lust. At one time my sucking of the valley as well as the clitoris became so noisy that the girl's screams were drowned out. Finally obscene oaths that she had learned from the ghetto streets boiled out of her tiny mouth. 'Blow me,' she burbled. 'Blow me, you motherfucking, cunt-lapping, asshole-tonguing bastard. Blow me!'

"And I did. A stream of cunt juice jetted into my mouth. This stream of love was very narrow, but the force behind it was unbelievable. It hit the roof of my mouth harder than a man's fist, and I was terrified lest my throat blister and choke me to death. But as soon as the numbness wore off, I sensed everything was going to be perfect. For one thing, the doll's cunt honey tasted sweeter than nectar, and I couldn't get enough of it. I sucked so hard my mouth felt like a suction disc. But every single drop of that cunt cream was precious to me. And I swear I felt younger, more virile, and a sense of elation flooded throughout my entire body. I had found the fountain of youth. And that fountain was contained in the love box of a thirteen-year-old girl."

Crumm stopped talking for a moment. He seemed lost in thought. Trish actually felt sorry for him. Ever since he had been a kid, Crumm had hustled, scratched and fought for a mere existence. Every ounce of his considerable energies was spent in the struggle to merely exist. There was no time for much happiness. But for a moment, with the forbidden fruit contained in the form of a thirteen-year-old Lolita-like girl, the aging Crumm found a drop of happiness, a bit of compensation for all the years of unhappiness. But it couldn't last.

"I didn't even get a chance to feel my cock inside her," he mused, as though he felt that even a smidgen of happiness in his direction had been some sort of ghastly mistake or a great big hoax played on him by the Fates.

"Someone had heard the girl scream," Trish guessed, and again a wave of sympathy for the bearlike man gripped her.

Crumm nodded slowly, as though he still didn't quite comprehend what had hit him. "The next thing I knew the whole stinkin' lavatory was filled with people. Mostly cops. And there I was on my knees with my face up against the cunt of a thirteen-year-old girl. And even then my swollen cock refused to quit on me. It stood erect as ever, and this, too, was evidence enough to damn me. The cops actually had to protect me from the mob of ghetto goons who tried to string me up." He gave an ironic laugh. "Not one of those assholes would have passed up the chance to screw the kid. But when they found someone else in her cunt, they became mean enough for a lynching." He felt his throat. "My lynching."

"And the case was never brought to court?" Trish asked incredulously.

"Naw," Crumm chortled. "I'm too valuable to the big boys uptown to ditch me. Besides, the kid run off with a truck driver, and the whole thing collapsed."

"But why take out your spite on the park?" Trish still did not comprehend the man's devious character.

"I had to," Crumm replied quite calmly. "Every time I passed that park, I almost went off my rocker. That goddamn piece of green in a ghetto almost sent me to jail. Almost ruined me-I'd have never fucked, or tried to have fucked, a thirteen-year-old girl if it hadn't been for the park. No ma'am, I wasn't going to put up with it. I convinced the boys uptown to sell off the property, and we all made a buck out of it." He was silent a moment, and then rationalized his behavior. "After all, the ghetto assholes didn't really appreciate it. Those kind would rather sit on the fire escape where they can look into the neighbors' window and watch them fuck." A throaty laugh bubbled up out of his throat. He leaned forward in his chair and smiled at Trish. "So now you know why I'm bitterly opposed to making a park in the ghetto. Besides, it ain't economical."

Trish was beginning to thoroughly understand the man. "In brief," she said, "there's nothing in it for you."

"Now you dig," Crumm said, a bit elated that she finally understood his philosophy. "You get nothing for nothing."

"What you're trying to say," Trish said sweetly, "is that you get back what you put out."

"Right on!"

"Suppose I was willing to put out?" Trish asked.

Crumm stiffened. He looked back unbelievingly at the girl. Ever since she had walked into the room, he had been on fire to screw her. But he never thought for a single second that there was going to be any cooperation on her part. And she was a doll. She was about seventeen, but there was still a virginal look about her. And at seventeen her cunt was still charged with youth-giving juices. And from the very beginning, the man of the ghetto had loved everything about the girl from Park Avenue. There was an aloof calmness to her, and yet in her lips and body and legs there was more than just a hint of a raging sensuality once her cunt was awakened from its virginal slumber. Crumm moistened his lips to speak. He could hardly force out the words. And when at last he did speak, his voice sounded strange and unnatural. "If you was willin' to put out," he said, "there ain't no telling how much I'll help you. I could even help you with the goddamn park."

Trish studied the man carefully. He did exert a certain raw, manly power that was rare in an age when men were acting and dressing more and more like women. Perhaps, in time, she could be attracted to him. And that's what she had meant when she raised the matter of her possible availability.

But Trish still didn't understand the man from the ghetto. He was a man of immediate action. Long-range relationships didn't enter his mind, and he wasn't interested in them at all. When a girl told him she was willing to put out, that meant instant cunt. Already the thought of Trish's cunt had unleashed the ever-ready sexual hormones into his bloodstream. A number of other responses, all of a sexual nature, were also triggered within the burlyframe of the ghetto man. And all of those quickened responses built up to one thing: a king-sized bone that wasn't going to soften until his nuts had been drained of cock cream. He stood up, and the bulge between his legs was now a frightening thing to behold.

Trish was aghast. She had never seen a man shaken by so many changes, so quickly, and in so many different parts of his body. The cheeks of his puffy face were stained with unsightly red splotches. There was a queer and unnatural light in his ferretlike eyes, and his breath was wheezing in and out of his flaring nostrils at a much-too-rapid pace. And it was almost impossible for Trish to associate the mountainous protrusion between his legs with a normal man's cock even when it was in an excited state of erection.

Trish leaped to her feet, alarmed. "Now, don't get any ideas," she said quickly. "I meant, in time, when we got to know each other, we might find a physical attraction and even love for each other."

Crumm replied in a silent way that had had meaning since the dawn of time. He unzipped his pants and let his mushroom-shaped tool of flesh slide out into exposure. "I don't need no time to know I'm physically attracted to you, baby," he breathed. "And you got class, doll. You're the kind I could get serious with. That fat black broad and all the others were just passing through my life. But you, baby, you I want for keeps." He began to walk around the desk towards Trish, who stood as though paralyzed. "And I'll help you get your park if that'll make you happy." He smiled in what he felt was a warm smile. To Trish, his smile had all the warmth of a striking rattler. "I'm really a big-hearted slob. A gem in the rough."

Trish's eyes fastened themselves on the man's reddening prick. Certainly it was large and impressive enough to brand its owner as a real man. And a real man was the only kind who could win Trish's affection. But not this way. She hadn't become an animal yet. "No," she said to the advancing man. "This isn't the way to make me love you. And sex was never meant to be like this."

Crumm wasn't listening. He was deafened to all other voices except those that came roaring up at him from the pit of his genitals. And those lusty voices kept pushing him forward towards Trish. "Like what?" he mumbled, not really knowing what he was saying.

Trish started to back away from him. She shouted back. "Sex wasn't meant to degrade. Between the right people, it's the most beautiful expression of love of which we're capable." Her voice rose, high and shaky. "Give us time to get acquainted. Please, let's go about it right. But not like this. Like animals devoid of feeling or respect for each other!"

Crumm moved forward towards Trish in the same relentless manner in which he had risen above the rank and file in the ghetto and had become a ward boss. "My prick tells me I gotta fuck you. That's good enough for me. We got a whole lifetime to get to know each other. So please don't fight it, baby. Let's fuck!" And with that last remark, he reached out and grabbed hold of Trish's sweater. His intent was to seize her breasts and feel their soft warmness in his hands. But Trish had been a bit too fast for him. She twisted her body backwards in time to elude his grasp, but not in time to prevent his clawlike hands from grasping hold of her sweater and pulling it over her head. Trish had never found it necessary to wear a bra. Her breasts were too firm and too perfectly shaped to require support of an artificial nature. And so now her breasts became exposed to the lust-maddened Crumm. This was another facet of Crumm's character that Trish was just being introduced to. Opposition only enraged the man and made him all the more determined to gain his goals. And right now Trish, or rather her body, was his goal.

Trish looked wildly around her at the door and windows. Crumm had bolted every avenue of escape. "I'll scream," she threatened as she still backed away from him.

Crumm's blood-red face broke into a smile that looked more like a sneer. "You can scream your fuckin' head off. People in this building are used to screaming women. This is the ghetto, baby. You ain't on Park Avenue now where those faggy men ain't interested in tasting a bit of pussy." He snarled at her for her obstinacy was beginning to rankle. "And I aim on tastin' your pussy before you get outa here. So relax and come across. You and me could make a beautiful team together."

"Not like this," Trish wailed out. But even as the words soared out of her mouth, she knew she was wasting her breath. And her desperate plight became all too apparent to her. She was trapped alone in a locked room with a bull-like creature who was more animal than human. He was devoid of any feeling or respect, and completely incapable of a single, decent act. And to make matters worse, he had political connections which could protect him regardless of what he did to her. He could rape and murder her, and still get away with it. But she tried to fight off the waves of panic that beat against her brain and garbled her senses. She was going to need every ounce of her mental and physical strength to extricate herself.

Immersed with these inner problems, Trish inadvertently lowered her guard. And at that moment, Crumm sprang at her with the determination and agility of a football tackle. He caught her around the waist and both man and girl fell backwards, onto the floor. "Cunt," Crumm breathed hoarsely. "Gotta have your cunt or I'll die." And he meant it. The man had worked himself up into such a state for intercourse with Trish that if he was thwarted in this goal he'd suffer terribly in both body and spirit. But he had no intention of being thwarted from ripping the clothes off the stubborn girl and banging her ass with all the gusto of a sex-famished con who had just been released from prison. "Cunt!" His voice broke into a roar. "Gotta have your cunt!"

For the moment, Trish was in no position to prevent Crumm from having his way. He tore the skirt from around her waist. Then he quickly pulled her panties down her legs and flung them across the room. Trish's naked body was now exposed before the ghetto man's eyes. And those eyes ravished the naked, virginal flesh of the young girl. Her tits were round, firm, and neither too large or too small. They were fleshy semi-spheres of perfection. And despite her protests, her nipples, crimson and porous, were prick stiff. There wasn't an ounce of fat on her shapely body, which was cream-colored and youthfully smooth. But the girl's cunt held his eyes more than any other part of her body. The girl's cunt was that rare piece of perfection that artists and true connoisseurs of the female form have sought after for all of their lives and, in most cases, have never found. Now Crumm had found that cunt of all cunts. And he'd never let it go. There wasn't that profusion of hair around the lips that was usually found on more mature women. There was just enough hair to nicely frame the lips and fan up the belly in an inverted triangular patch. The cunt lips were perfectly shaped also. They weren't too thick, and not too thin. They slashed up from between her legs and were just slightly distended to give Crumm a teasing peak at the fleshy, moist and warm goodness that was contained within the love valley. And to Crumm's intense joy, the girl's clitoris was in evidence. The excitement of the moment had probably pulled it out of its little hiding place. That excitement was probably born of fear. It was Crumm's job to replace that fear with lust. He felt positive that if he could only get his mouth over her clit, his goal of getting her excited would be quickly accomplished. Then he'd have her cooperation and trust. The ghetto man opened his mouth wide and bobbed his head down in the direction of her cunt.

But once again Trish was too fast for him. She twisted her body over, and the man's face bounced up against the ass of the girl. And even in this posterior region, which he didn't normally associate with love, the feel of his mouth against the flesh of her ass thrilled and delighted him. Before the girl could move again, he clamped his huge, pawlike hands around her waist and buried his face between the cheeks of the girl's ass. There was a faint odor from her ass that only excited him all the more. When he was in heat, the odor of a young girl's ass was definitely a sexual stimulant as far as Crumm was concerned. He stuck out his tongue and began to lap her ass like any dog excited by a bitch in heat.

Once again Trish was assailed by bursts of utter degradation and humiliation. "I'm not an animal!" she screamed. But to no avail. The man from the ghetto, saliva streaming out of the corners of his mouth, plunged his tongue even farther down the rectal passage until Trish could feel the entire area penetrated with the man's mouth flesh. But this was not an erogenous zone for Trish. But even if it was, she wouldn't have been able to assess her sensations under the present conditions of rape.

Crumm was under no such handicap. The taste of Trish's ass, the feel of tongue inside the rectal tube, the odors from her rectum, and the fleshy feel of her ass cheeks up against his face fevered him with such a lust that the cock juices began their relentless flow to the head of his cock. Feeling the liquid boiling and moving within him made Crumm yank his head out of Trish's rear valley of love and take instant remedial action to circumvent a premature ejaculation. He wracked his brain to think of all sorts of neutral thoughts that would deaden the lustful thoughts and soften his prick. Unimpeded, the cock juices would soon reach their exit at the head of his cock and he wouldn't be able to fuck the girl. "Can't blow now," Crumm told himself with a desperate and pleading cry. The man was actually pleading with himself to think up some sort of non-sexual thought to flush the starch out of his cock. Then, out of desperation, or perhaps inspiration, Crumm was suddenly confronted with the solution. He'd think of black Hazel, and of being confronted by her husband, who was an ugly brute, an uppity Negro who kept preaching about black rights in the ghetto. The ruse worked. The very thought of being caught with Hazel by the black woman's husband quickly dealt a karate chop to his own lusts of the moment. His cock began to wilt, and the flow of cream was averted.

With the danger of an unwanted ejaculation past, Crumm resumed his attentions to the girl's ass. But before he was able to do a thing, he was rudely awakened from his lustful anticipations by a loud pounding on the door. "Open up, you son-of-a-bitch," a voice on the other side of the door called out in an angry manner. "Open up, I say." And without waiting from Crumm to make a move, Trish recognized the sound of a heavy and broad shoulder battering against the door. The cheap lock soon broke. The most burly black man Trish had ever seen came crashing into the room.

The barrel-chested black man looked down contemptuously at the couple on the floor. He pointed a finger at Crumm. "You gonna pay for fucking my wife, you whitey bastard!" As he advanced towards Trish and Crumm, he pulled a knife from under his jacket. "I hates all whites," he cried out with a rage that had been born centuries past.

The intruder was Hazel's husband, a man who had been cuckolded by Crumm and knew it. At the moment, the man was possessed by his insane rage against all white people. And before him was the naked flesh of a white man and girl. The enraged black raised his knife and slashed out.