Chapter 1
The warm spring air fanned the leaves of the old elms, and they swayed above the intricate roofs of the two Victorian houses set wide apart to form a small park between. The park needed little transformation to become an outdoor theatre for the annual Shakespearean production of The Peabody School of Dramatic Arts.
The folding audience chairs had been set up in a wide crescent around the playing area which backed up to the path leading to the former servants' quarters that now served as dressing rooms. Celia Brown carefully powdered her throat and expanse of snowy bosom displayed by the low square-cut neckline of her costume. Her hand was shaking a little.
It was more than just the usual tenseness before a performance. That was a tenseness she welcomed, for it was an occupational hazard that once lived through usually presaged a good performance. This was a nervous excitement that bordered on the edge of hysteria, and it was caused by Webster McCullough.
The way he'd looked at her a while ago when he'd come to the dressing room door... as though he could devour her on the spot. His piercing blue eyes behind his glasses had missed nothing... Celia's polished pecan-brown hair that swung around her heart-shaped face like a bell, her wide almond eyes that tilted up at the corners, her delicate little nose and curved mouth that quirked up in faint mockery. His eyes had assessed and caressed her luminous white skin from her wide brow down to her slender throat to the mounds of her breasts, barely covered and pushed up by the boning of the costume till they were lifted and pressed upward as if in invitation. Even where she was covered she felt naked under his eyes, as though he could see her narrow waist and curved hips and long thighs under the heavy rose brocade.
Celia had seen a decisiveness suddenly tighten his good-looking face. A muscle twitched in his firm jaw. He reached out one arm and circled her corseted waist and pulled her to him fiercely, his lips against her ear. "I'll be parked around the corner. Come to me as soon as you can. I can't wait much longer, baby."
"Web... please. There are people all over the place."
"Hurry and get through this damn dress rehearsal. I want to get you alone... away from everybody." His lips had burned a quick brand just under her jaw and he was gone.
She'd watched him stride down the path, dodging actors and props and bushes. Her real nervousness had started then, for he looked and acted like a man who meant what he said. The quiet easy charm that he usually wore like a jaunty feather had turned to armor plate in that brief moment. He looked like a man about to do battle who had no doubts about his ability to win.
Until now Webster McCullough had looked like what he was... a serious young businessman, a C.P.A. who was on his way up. He was a shade above middle height, with thick wavy blond hair and blue eyes that varied in temperature from hot to cold in a flash sometimes, but were usually controlled to a moderate setting. The long hours of sitting he offset with arduous gym hours that had built powerful muscles on his shoulders and chest. His glasses only added to his seriousness and made him look older than his thirty-one years... but his easy disarming grin counterbalanced them.
But now he looked different to Celia... so different she was a little frightened. But the fright was threaded with shivering strands of excitement that raced through her veins. She knew that a change was coming in their relationship, and most probably tonight!
She shaped her lips again with the lip brush dipped in rosy rouge. These last three months had been the best time of her whole nineteen years, and she didn't want things to change. Not yet. It was too perfect. She wanted to keep it that way.
It was still a miracle to her that she was here in Dallas... living alone and away from her parents in Waxahachie. The thought of their dreary little hardware store and equally dreary neat white frame house with the starched priscilla curtains could still give her the shakes. Their life was as circumscribed as the ledgers her father pored over and as inevitable as the false friendliness her mother exuded on customers. Work, gossip, church, lodge, family reunions, gardening, TV, and sleep. Their early to bed and early to rise existence Celia dreaded more than loneliness or death.
She'd hated it so fiercely from her early childhood that she'd thought for years that she must be adopted or else just a born freak. Her only defense had been the slow shyness and bookishness her teachers had liked.
First books and then movies had shouted out other worlds to her... worlds she could never reasonably expect to inhabit. And then it had happened. She'd been in a school play! Her own world and her identity in that world as George and Opal Brown's daughter had disappeared and she could at least briefly enter other worlds in other bodies, with other feelings. She could be somebody else!
From that moment on she had lost herself in plays and in acting. In high school, she'd been so good at pretending that she stood out in almost frightening intensity. Even Mrs. Goodman had been a little in awe of her uncanny natural ability.
After high school, two years of college had not satisfied her or given her what she wanted. A small teacher's college had not taught her anything about acting she didn't already know. All the other classes were so boring she couldn't even bear to listen to them.
Finally, in desperation, she'd gotten Mrs. Goodman to persuade her parents to let her come here. She knew the Peabody School was not the ultimate. It was an impoverished, slightly talented, old maid's hold on culture and art. Esther Peabody was never much of an actress herself, but she could choose and direct the people who were genuine actors. Many of her students had gone on to better things. One was even a movie star of some fame.
And so the best three months of her life had begun. Celia had found a job in Highland Park across from S.M.U. She was a clerk of all work in a college dress shop during the day, and at night she rehearsed and read and went to classes at Peabody on a scholarship.
Even now she knew that her father would never have permitted it had Miss Peabody not been so obviously genteel and refined. Celia roomed with two other girl students on the top floor of one of the old Victorian houses in a large airy flat that had its own living room, kitchen, bath, and three bedrooms. It was perfect for Hilda and Rosemary and herself.
"They're all whores... those damn movie stars. Pick up any paper... you'll see!" Her father was fond of shouting, but Esther Peabody was so completely a lady and so quiet and modest that he'd reluctantly let himself be persuaded. Celia knew, however, that one slip, one suspicion that she had conducted herself in any way other than circumspectly, and she'd be dragged home to wither and die in Waxahachie, Texas.
She bent forward to the mirror to lengthen the dark lines at the corners of her eyes. Her full rounded globular breasts almost tumbled out of the top of the costume. If her father could see her now, for instance, he'd get so angry he'd threaten to kill her.
If he knew about Webster McCullough, he wouldn't just threaten... he would! Her father's idea of a date was to sit in the parlor and drink lemonade! She'd had so few of even those dates through high school and college that she couldn't even handle them very well.
But then, men had not really interested her that much before Web. Men! She'd never really known any men. They'd been pimply boys! Web was too old for her, she supposed. But he didn't seem old. He just seemed like a man. A real man.
There was Bullock Brand and Patrick Flanner, and they were men too, but they didn't seem that way to her because she worked with them in plays all the time. They were students, involved in her work, and lived right downstairs. They'd come barging up to borrow the peanut butter or put a light bulb in for you. Well, they seemed more like family. That was the way theatrical people were. They lived together whether they did, in fact, or not.
Satisfied at last with her makeup, she stepped back to get a full-length view of herself. She turned and dipped, pleased again to be another creature. Shakespeare's Helena this time. She could hear the murmur of the small crowd. An invitational audience Esther invited in hopes they'd contribute to the school... Very few of them ever did.
Celia looked critically at her creamy breasts pushed high and round above her tiny corseted waist that rose like a stem from her voluminous skirt that swept the floor. She blushed thinking of Web's eyes so hot on her. What if... if she couldn't handle him tonight when she met him later. A shiver of goose bumps broke out on her bare elbows.
His good-night kisses had gotten more and more insistent, but he'd never been... well, awful about it or anything. He'd always been kind and sweet and considerate and fun. She really didn't want that to change, and yet...
The door banged open abruptly and Hilda Norman, one of her apartment mates, came galloping in with her skirts held up in one hand.
"Miss Pea says three minutes till curtain." She stopped then, a frown crossing her narrow colorless face. It wasn't fair that Celia could look so beautiful! "Well, well, I wonder what your old Daddy would say if he could see you now!" Hilda was all of a color, mousy hair, mousy eyes and skin, tall and slender. Her only distinguishing feature was a strident, stagy, sophisticated voice reminiscent of a Noel Coward drawing room comedy.
"He'd horsewhip me... that's what he'd do, as you very well know, honey chile." Celia laughed. She linked arms with the tall girl.
"Come on, Hilda... let's knock 'em dead."
Esther Peabody stretched out her hand in greeting to Justin Garrett. She was a pretty woman in her early forties, but her hairdo and clothes were so dated she could have been any age between thirty and sixty. Long, thick, honey-colored hair was pulled into a loose knot on the nape of her neck, and deep waves framed her ears. Her clothes were invariably four precise inches below her knees, and the printed chiffon she wore fluttered about her excellent calves that were camouflaged by the awkward length. Her nails were polished in pale pink with the moons left bare. Her only makeup was pale pink lipstick that the girl drama students were sure must be Tangee natural from the dime store. She was slender and tallish, but again her clothes fit so loosely that ii was almost impossible to say whether she had a good or bad figure. She always looked like a housewife in one of the magazine advertisements from the thirties... innocuous, pretty, motherly and utterly devoid of sex.
"Mr. Garrett! I'm so delighted you could come. It's almost curtain time, but I've saved you a seat without a tree trunk!" she laughed gaily.
"I'm delighted to be here, Miss Peabody. Any excuse to see you." He brushed the back of her hand with his lips elaborately.
"Now, Mr. Garrett. Save your compliments for all those starlets. By the way, as I told you, there's a young girl playing Helena tonight you may want to use in one of your Little Theatre productions. She s charming.
"Charm, I don't need. Talent I do." he grumbled. Justin Garrett was a bear of a man, great arms and shoulders and hands and neck, looking as though he'd been mistakenly stripped of his fur. But his face was that of an aging matinee idol who constantly showed his handsome profile. Dark hair swept straight back from his high forehead and silvered becomingly over the temples above brooding eyebrows and fiery dark eyes that he flashed effectively for emphasis.
Patrick Flanner spoke to Celia with the passion of his own conviction, not just that of the character he was playing. The lights blinded him to the audience, but he could see that beautiful creature clearly. One day, he thought... one day.
"... Virginity by being once lost may be ten times found; by being ever kept, it is ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with it!" God, yes, away with it. He'd like to be the one who stormed Celia's little hymen.
Patrick was the epitome of what most people thought an Irishman should look like. Curling red hair and blue eyes that crinkled in wild laughter, pale faintly freckled skin and a silver tongue that minted words indefinitely and spent them lavishly. He knew he had the natural gift for gab attributed to his ancestors, and that's why he was at Peabody. He wanted to augment that gift by learning the timing and phrasing that only a drama school could teach him. He was going to need that training. Certainly he wasn't going to organize other people's little local political campaigns forever. He was going to run for political office himself and change the whole idiot world.
"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to heaven..."
Patrick jerked himself back into character as he heard Celia pronounce the beginning of the famous speech of Helena.
"Bullock Brand... stop that!" Rosemary hissed in a stage whisper behind the myrtle trees and lilac bushes that served as the wings of the playing area.
"Mm-mmm-mmm," he mouthed against her bare throat, holding her back against him so his hands came from behind her to cup her barely covered breasts in the costume. He was never going to get enough of women, not if he lived to be a hundred. And he'd been so afraid they wouldn't even look at him when he'd come home from Vietnam, with his prematurely balding head and gaunt face. But it wasn't what you looked like. It was how you treated them. And he knew how to treat them. Fuck 'em! He'd been working on this one for a month, and he thought tonight might be the night.
"Stop it... it's almost time for my cue, damn you!" she whispered desperately. She couldn't even think what her first line was with Bullock pawing her. If the truth were known she hadn't really done a lick of work on her thesis since he'd moved in downstairs. She didn't really know what was so disconcerting about this one. He was certainly nothing to look at. It was those damn sad eyes of his and that balding skull over his young-old face.
"Okay, baby... later." Reluctantly he let her go. She stood a little away from him and turned to throw him a quick smile when she saw his sad face. She was a pretty thing with soft dark hair curling around her shoulders and an earnest expression in her greenish eyes. If she'd been in the movies she'd always be given the girl-next-door parts. Sort of an Ali McGraw type, but prettier with better boobs and legs. Yeh. Maybe tonight.
The dressing room was the usual madhouse after a performance. Bodices being unlaced and bras put on, slacks replacing voluminous skirts, makeup being slathered away with great gobs of cold cream and the incessant giggling, chattering, and squealing of girls after a dress rehearsal that had gone well. The same furor came from the boy's dressing room.
Frantically Celia threw on her plaid skirt and silk shirt. Now that it was over she wanted to see Web. The worry about his possible insistence had evaporated during the play somehow. Everything always seemed a long time ago when she came out of the trancelike state of playing a part. She wanted to get out before the inevitable preparations about where to go for hamburgers and who was going to ride in whose car. It was better if they just assumed she'd gone to bed, which she had on occasion.
Web saw her come rushing around the corner, her long legs twinkling under her short skirt in the angled light of the street lamp. Her beautiful breasts were jiggling from her fast walking and were clearly outlined mounds that tightened his groin. Jesus, she was a beautiful thing! Easy, he cautioned himself. You want to screw her, not marry her.
She slid into the car beside him, laughing and panting from rushing so. He pulled her against him hard and captured her soft mouth with his before she could do more than utter an unfinished "O..." He kissed her deeply and long, crushing her so hard to his chest he could feel her heart beating wildly. One soft hand touched his face tenderly, the fingertips just grazing his freshly shaved cheek while the other pushed hard against his shoulder to break his hold. She wanted it all right, but she was trying to tell herself that nice girls didn't.
Celia could feel Web's hard arms holding her in a viselike grip and his mouth bruising her lips, his tongue sunk deeply in her mouth and probing. What was the matter with him? He'd never grabbed her so abruptly and held her so roughly. Her breasts were mashed hard against his chest and his thigh was pressed hotly against hers and a strange warmth was stealing through her though she could hardly breathe. Finally she twisted her head away and gasped, "Web... please... you mustn't... I..."
"Sorry... Hell, no! I'm not sorry. You looked so damned beautiful coming toward me. I guess I... but I'm not sorry." Just as abruptly, he started the car, turned on the headlights, flipped the radio on, and pulled away from the curb.
She could still feel her heart pounding in her chest, and she felt both relieved and disappointed that she was not still in his arms. The nervousness had returned tenfold, for if he really got insistent she didn't know what she would do. She'd had to fight boys off before, but they were so easy if you just said something cutting and laughed at them. But Web was a man, not a boy. What would she do?
She leaned her head back on the seat and tried to make some kind of natural conversation. "It... the play... it went well tonight. Mr. Garrett wants me to try out for him at the Dallas Little Theatre. He used to be a Hollywood director. Isn't that great?"
"No, it isn't great. It's just that much less time I can see you... and I want to see you more, not less," he grinned.
"Maybe we've been seeing too much of each other already," she said in her strangely gritty-satin voice.
"Never," he vowed, steering with his right hand and reaching across with his left to catch her right hand and pull it to his lips. He kissed the palm softly, and she could feel the kisses travel like lightning impulses all the way up her arm. Then with his eyes steady on the road he kissed the fingers solemnly one by one. The insidious warmth was stealing through her again. She knew she should snatch her hand away, but she couldn't.
"Where are we going to eat?" she inquired as casually as she could with her hand still being kissed and fondled with his lips.
"Where we can be alone. Where there's nobody but us," he answered. And Celia shivered, not sure if Web was being ominous or not.
"Do you suppose you could spare my hand for your driving? I mean it's dangerous in this traffic," she said meekly, for the cars were flashing by like streaks and the stoplights on cars ahead were polkadots of red reaching into the distance.
"Sure, baby." He dropped her hand, only to pull her roughly snug against his hip and thigh. His hands were both on the wheel now, and she was tired. It would be all right.
Celia roused from a deep drowsiness that weighed her down like a mountain of featherbeds. The effort of lifting her own eyes and moving her body seemed too much for her muscles. She could hear Web saying something to her, and the car wasn't running any more. He was standing by her side of the car with the door open and was trying to help her out of the car.
"Come on, sweetheart. Up we go."
"Oh... where are we?"
She blinked her eyes and leaned against him to steady herself. They were parked by a patio with garden chairs and gay umbrella tables. It was pretty dark. With his arm around her he walked her to a big door with a brass doorknob.
"I don't understand. Where are we? Are we at a restaurant?"
"No, we're not at a restaurant." His arm tightened around her, and he was opening the door with a key that had a plastic number plate attached to it. "But we are going to eat."
He pulled her inside a darkened room, closed the door, and flipped a light switch. The large expensively furnished room glowed with a soft light from tall lamps. There was a round walnut table under a bay window with two deep armchairs pulled up to it. A long elaborate shelf and chest and desk arrangement on one wall held a television set. An enormous king-size bed covered sumptuously in blue velvet dominated the room. The drapes and chair coverings were in matching blue velvet. A bad reproduction of The Blue Boy hung over the bed. The thick blue carpet dragged at her heels as she walked a few steps into the room. Why... it was a motel room! How dare Web take her to a motel! Her suspicions were confirmed now!
She whirled to confront him, suddenly angry and a little frightened. "It's... it's a motel! Whatever gave you the idea you could bring me to a motel..."
He put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her with his sincere blue eyes, serious behind the glasses.
"Two reasons... you're hungry and I wanted to be really alone with you. Except for driving someplace in the car we've never been really alone together. Is that so terrible?" He looked at her quizzically and then kissed her quickly.
"But..."
"No buts. You come right over here and sit down. Your steak's ready." He maneuvered her across the room and seated her at the round table. Only then did she notice the silver domes covering steak platters. The aroma hit her nostrils. The heavenly aroma of broiled steak. He lifted the dome in front of her with a flourish. Her salivary glands started working furiously at the sight of the rare fillet garnished with buttery mushrooms and broiled tomatoes. She hadn't eaten since breakfast. She never could before a performance, and afterwards she was always famished.
Suddenly she felt very ashamed. This must have cost Web a great deal of money, and she knew how stringently he budgeted so as to acquire the capital to open his own business. He even lived in a single room and cooked over a hotplate to cut down his living expenses.
"It's... it's lovely, Web," she smiled up at him uncertainly.
"Eat your steak, woman. You're starving." She nodded and cut into the beautiful meat. Web opened the champagne and poured. She'd never even tasted it. Waxahachie drank beer, and the closest anybody there got to champagne was looking at the rich beautiful people on a movie screen. He held up his glass in a toast, just as they did in the movies, and his eyes burned into her.
"All's Well that Ends Well," he toasted her with the title of the play, but his eyes gave it several meanings.
It was a long leisurely dinner, and Web could see that Celia was completely relaxed and just a little tiddly. The top button of her blouse had slipped loose from the hole, and he could see the creamy rounds of her breasts cleaving together in a "V" of alabaster flesh. He felt his penis leap against the bindings of his shorts and pants. There was something about this particular girl that sent him right up the wall. The way her eyes tilted, the way her shining hair swung, the curve of her mouth in that kind of Mona Lisa smile, and that voice that even on the telephone could make his gut tighten. She was both old and wise and young and innocent, naive and worldly, trusting and suspicious. A paradox. He hadn't really figured her yet. All he knew was that he had never waited almost three months to lay a girl. Goodnight kisses were as close as he'd gotten, and he'd never stood for that nonsense from any girl before. He looked up from his glass to watch her mobile, beautiful face and expressive hands pouring out a funny story about the actors she worked with. Her whole body leaned toward him. It was as though she put her whole self into everything... even telling a funny story. She gave. Well, he wanted all she could give. Now.
He stood up and walked the step to her chair and lifted her to her feet. Her big eyes looked at him, wide and uncertain, and the words of her story died on her lips. He pulled her to him and bent his mouth to kiss her hungrily. She kissed him back and then tried to pull away. He crushed her to him even closer, and he could feel the delicious sensation of her big beautiful breasts mashed against his hard chest and the "V" of her legs joining and the little mound of Venus under her skirt. One hand slid down to cup her firm young buttock and his other hand held her skull through her silky hair, pressing her mouth open under his for his starving tongue. She was moaning and trying to wriggle away, but he held her fast and hard.
Celia breathed raggedly through her nose, and it wasn't very satisfactory because Web seemed to be sucking the very life out through her mouth and his hand held the back of her head so hard that she couldn't move it. Her bottom felt hot where his hard hand held it to shove her so close against him that she could feel his organ, huge and menacing against her soft little belly.
This wasn't any groping boy. He knew exactly what to do and how. Just when she thought she'd have to do something awful like trying to stomp on his toe, his hand came up and closed over her breast and his mouth slid down her throat and buried against the hollow between her shoulder and neck.
"Don't fight me, baby," he ordered harshly, his lips hot against her skin.
The terrible warmth was making her limp... yet her breasts were heaving under his hand. Her eyes were closed, and the heat from his lips against her throat sent radiant warmth coursing all through her, and her breast was blazing from his hand. Oh, she didn't want to fight him. It was so lovely in his arms... but it was all wrong. Everything she'd ever been taught said it was all wrong. How could anything so wrong and sinful feel so marvelous?
Strange fragments of thoughts that were not even really thought--just fragments, glimpses out of time-flashed across her mind. Her father screaming about actresses being whores... her mother warning her about men who only wanted one thing out of you... the panting fevered pimply boys she'd occasionally had to fight off... the trap of early marriage she'd seen her girl friends fall into... one pitiful girl who'd gotten pregnant in high school... all these things flashed in painful memory in a montage that wheeled and would not focus in her head.
A jolt shot through her so delicious that her limbs turned to jelly, for his hand had slid her blouse off one shoulder and the bra strap with it and his burning hand cupped one full heaving naked breast. It was as though she'd been waiting all her life for that particular sensation... Web's warming palm sheltering her soft vulnerable breast.
Web could feel her soft pink nipple stiffen to a closed coral bud against his palm in immediate eager response. He'd known from the minute he saw her three months ago that he had to have her and that he would! He was only amazed and scornful of his long and unfamiliar patience. She was shuddering and shivering under his hands and mouth and arms, as he'd somehow sensed from that first moment that she would. That wide-eyed faintly mocking smile was a good mask to put off innocent horny boys, but he'd had too many women to be fooled by it.
"I almost ripped that costume off you tonight... so I could touch you like this," he muttered against her open upturned mouth, his hand kneading the firm satin flesh of her heavy young breast.
"Please... please... don't," she moaned, trembling even more as his hand slipped her other white shoulder out of her silk blouse, freeing the other peaked mountain of breast. Her blouse dangled limply down her arms, and her bra hung by the straps on her elbow. His fingers traced the globes of both breasts that hung like fruits from the tender truck of her body.
"Nooooooo!" She screamed softly as his thumb and forefinger pinched her hard rubied nipple painfully and an electric shock flashed through her and something pulled inward in an agonizing pleasure between her legs. She could feel moisture dampening her pantyhose.
Suddenly her father's face, twisted in horrible anger, as it had been that time he'd caught her coming out of a movie with Johnny Benson when she'd supposedly gone alone, dominated the whole of her mind. She suddenly saw herself as she would look to her father now... breasts bared in a motel room with a man... the whole sordid unsavory picture... the small-town girl lured into a sinful vulgar fleshly hell. The greatest hell of all was knowing that if this escapade was found out, she'd be dragged home to rot forever.
A terrified sob welled up from deep within her, and she tore herself from Web's arms and started toward the bathroom to put her clothes in order and then somehow get out of there before she was further defiled.
Just as she got to the bathroom door, Web caught her from behind-one strong arm pinning her arms to her sides. The tears were pouring down her face now and the sobs rising in choking waves. "Stop acting like a child," he ordered sternly. "Open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at yourself." His hand was tenderly sweeping across her naked breasts, thrusting fully into his hand while he held her immobile in front of the mirrored bathroom. "You are a full beautiful enchanting woman. Not a naive child. You have a woman's needs and I have a man's needs. We are grown up and we care about each other. I knew from the moment I saw you, you were going to be my woman." His voice was imprinting the hypnotic words against her throat, and she could see her own breasts, turgid-tipped and fully developed, come to quivering life again under his hand that spoke a tender body language as mesmerizing as his voice.
Web kept talking softly, and Celia's sobs were subsiding as he gently removed her arms from the blouse and unhooked the bra to let it fall to her feet. He worked quickly but stealthily so as not to alarm her again. Fortunately her skirt only wrapped and unbuttoned and fell in a bright plaid pool. He caught his breath as he saw the brown triangle of pubic fleece revealed by her sheer pantyhose. The pale slender columns of her perfect legs joined to form that sacred triangle, and her firm flat belly and hips formed planes as aesthetically perfect as a da Vinci geometric drawing. His cock jerked wildly in his pants against her firm buttocks and spine. Easy, he cautioned. His hands caressed her belly and hips and thighs, feeling the perfection his eyes laved, and in the process he slid the pantyhose down till they too fell in wisps around her feet.
At last she stood naked as a marble goddess but far more beautiful, for the blood coursed under that flawless skin to tinge its white perfection with rose. The flesh under his hands hollowed and swelled in impossible curves, and he shook in spite of himself at the sight he had waited for so long. Feverishly he pulled his own clothes off with one hand as he stood behind her, holding her with his arm and letting his hand stray over her lush nakedness.
Celia felt as though she might fall, but Web's rock-hard arm and wandering hand held her both literally and figuratively. In trancelike fascination she watched her own naked body being caressed, and her eyes registered the delicious sensation her flesh was feeling. This couldn't be happening. It was a delight she had dimly imagined in her loneliest moments as being possible perhaps when one was married... but it was so far from her own experience that it seemed she was playing an impossible part with ease and eagerness. Celia Brown had never felt a male hand on her naked flesh, and she could see the muscles of his hand, the tendons, the veins as they worked in deft combination to move that delight-giving hand over her bare body. She could even see her pelvis arch as he smoothed her belly and then inched down to tangle his fingers in her pubic hair. Her own moisture was seeping damply from deep inside her to sheen her thighs on the inside just where her legs joined. Her cheeks were still wet, but her eyes stared wildly back at her, glazed in a mixture of terror and pleasure and awe. The branding heat from his hand flowed right through her flesh wherever it touched, firing some inner furnace deep in her vitals. She heard him moan deep in his throat and felt him turn her and crush her to his own naked wanting body.
"Oh... baby... God." His mouth attacked her own and she was crushed delectably against the hard hairiness of his strong male body. She felt his tongue plunge deeply into her throat and his arms clenching her painfully as though he were going to press her completely into his own flesh. Oh, yes. She could never get close enough. Her own arms crept up around his neck and she opened her mouth wide to receive him. She could feel the huge throbbing instrument of his penis, upright and rigid, mashed between them as her thrusting breasts were mashed into his hairy chest. The incredible tactile messages bombarding her brain were jamming the circuits to reason and sense and judgment.
Web fucked deeply into her warm velvet soft mouth with his tongue and his prick jerked irritably in jealousy, still imprisoned between their naked bodies. Never mind. He was going to bury his cock up to the hilt in that sweet little pussy in short order. She was getting hotter by the second and he was going to ignite that inner fire to a blast furnace. He massaged her silky warm little rounded buttocks with both hands and cupped them to lift her up to him even harder. Stooping a little, he wrapped his arms under her globed buttocks and lifted her up against him till her head was above his, still locked to his mouth, and then let her beautiful naked body slide slowly down his own. He could feel the soft flesh of her slide down against his cock, pressing the foreskin down. Oh, God! He couldn't wait. He had to stick it in her, shove it into that hot little box, hollow and waiting between her legs.
When Celia was standing again on the floor, he released her mouth and stared down at her with burning blue eyes that bored into her very soul. Sometime, somewhere, she realized he'd taken off his glasses. His eyes burned fiercely into her and she felt her whole body quake and shiver. Her fingers trembled against his mouth and she tried to speak, to communicate the volcano of surging emotion that was erupting inside her. Solemnly he kissed her fingers, never taking his hot eyes from her face.
"Oh, Celia, Celia... Celia," he sighed at last, turning his head so his jaw pressed her temple, and the image of their two bodies pressed together from head to feet sprang into view in the mirrored wall of the bathroom as they still stood in the doorway. He pressed her closer with his hands in sudden fierceness to hide even from himself the surge of tenderness that swept him.
"Look at us," he whispered. "Look how we fit together... how we were made to fit." Her eyes leaped to his in the mirror and then saw... really saw the beauty of their naked bodies twined and cleaving. His hardness against her softness, his straight leanness against her swelling lushness as they stood, belly, breast, thigh, faces together. Her eyes widened in fear and amazement as she saw his huge, thrusting, blunt-headed enormous organ mashed between them. An instrument of torture, of agony. How could it be so massive? She'd only really seen her father's when she'd inadvertently rushed into the bathroom when he was there, and it had seemed a limp, purplish obscene and rather pathetically ugly peeing instrument. The facts taught in hygiene class were not even close to the incredible fact of seeing Web's gigantic pulsing thing. Oh, God! It looked even bigger than it felt against her.
Suddenly the horror of what she was... where she was... what she'd been doing hit her with a full load of guilt and shame. She'd been able to bear her father's taunts and accusations and predictions about her insistence on a stage career all these years only because she knew she was innocent... a virgin... pure in fact despite his suspicions. Yet... here she stood naked and panting against a naked man who was obviously only after the one weapon she had against her father's anger. She'd be ruined... forever ruined. No man would ever want to marry her. No-o-o-o-o! It mustn't happen!
She tore herself from his arms and tried to pick up her clothes, now terrified and frantic to get away. Oh, why had she come out with Web at all? She longed to be with the others at some hamburger place, eating and laughing and safe.
"What are you doing?" he roared incredulously, grabbing her arms.
"Look at us," she snarled sarcastically. "Well, I looked and I saw." She blazed at him furiously. "My mother was right. My father was right. You... you just want... to..." Tears of rage and disappointment and shame welled up.
"Say it... fuck you! Yes, I want to fuck you... and what's more you want it, too! I don't even believe you! You're out of another century! A god-damned prick tease! Well, baby," he shook her, his hands biting brutally into her arms. "No woman teases me. I've waited three long months for you! You had me so goddamned hung up... I haven't even had a woman since I met you!"
"Please... please!" She wept in terror and pain. His anger hurt even worse, stabbing her heart. "No, Web... please... please let me go," she sobbed. "Don't make me hate you."
"You won't hate me, bitch! I can promise you that!" he snarled wildly, turning her around and shoving her farther into the bathroom right up close to the mirrored wall. He caught her elbows behind her back and held her captive. "Look at yourself," he thundered, grabbing her jaw and forcing her head up till her eyes lifted to the image of her naked recoiling body and part of his naked body behind her.
Celia saw her own eyes wide with terror, the eyes of a captive animal, cornered and beginning to lose hope. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her mouth hung slack and bubbling with sobs.
"You see these tits! They were made for a man's mouth." He flicked the reddened hard tips of her nipples with his fingernail. She shivered and moaned, the nipples closing even tighter to pointed hard tips that tried to turn inside out, the soft velvet flesh of the areolas clenching and darkening. "You know why they poke out like that? Because they want to be sucked and bitten and chewed till they blow up like balloons!" His hand came up to cover one white fleshy mass of roundness. "You know why that feels so good... so delicious? Because it makes your hot little pussy get all ready for my cock!" He moved slightly so she could see the huge rod poling up from his mat of blond pubic hair.
"We're going to teach you a few things, baby!" His voice was hard and unforgiving, and she could feel his anger almost palpable in the mirrored room that was full of their naked reflections no matter where she looked. The sobs still bubbled up from her chest, and they brought a hopelessness she'd never experienced before. Here in this place-this rented place of assignation-she was going to be raped and ruined forever. She sagged against his rock-hard arm that held her pinned like a calf for slaughter.
"I said... look!" he roared wildly, snapping her jaw up again. Her eyes opened again painfully. She obeyed wearily and fearfully. He could do worse than rape, she knew, if she fought him. He could break every bone in her body with those hard, expert hands.
"Now this is my cock, my prick, my tool, my meat," he stroked the length of the rigid rod with one hand, moving the foreskin back and forth until she could see that the head of the fleshy stem was oozing a thin liquid. "And it doesn't like to be teased. Made to stand up proud and proper and ready and then told it can't ram into your hot little pussy." His breath was rasping through his nose and made a tiny fogged cloud on the mirror.
She watched in horror as his hand came out and snaked across her white belly and down into the pale brown triangle of her pubic hair. "This is your pussy." He stood behind her and put both arms in front along her sides and both hands between her legs and spread her thighs slightly until she stood in a parade rest position. Celia could feel his mammoth cock pressed into her spine, and it sent pulsing messages tingling up her backbone... lewd messages that her tired brain did not want to translate but her body received anyway.
His hands moved, and the forefinger of each hand traced along the outer edges of her privates that were fringed with hair. "These are the labia majora," he grunted as his fingers slid back and forth over the swollen lips and she could see the rounded lips were moist.
"And then just inside are the labia minora." And his fingers touched the inner lips that he peeled open to her horrified eyes. She stared in fascination as his fingers smoothed up and down, and she could feel the sticky moisture lubricating her inside.
"Then right up here," he panted harshly, his eyes fastened on her box where his fingers played and stroked obscenely, "is the clitoris... your clit." His finger darted up to touch something that only looked like a fold of flesh at first at the upper end of the aperture but felt as though her whole body were electrified by the sizzling jolt that shocked through her. He'd touched her center, the very center of her being, and it buzzed like an alarm button that sent shrieks along her every nerve.
"When you were a little girl, you rubbed your fingers there, as I'm doing now, or you rocked it against your favorite doll because it felt so good." His massaging finger did the motions his voice described. Celia shook, and her hips arched forward to his terrible finger that sent such raging flicks of desire racing through her. She remembered dimly... not a doll... but sitting and rubbing her thighs together because it felt so delicious... the piano stool. Yes, the piano stool. And her mother had punished her terribly, beating her bare little bottom unmercifully with flaming hands. She'd been so sore she literally couldn't sit down, and she'd sobbed for hours in her little bed... but she'd never done it again.
This indescribable, incredibly delectable lovely feeling was what her mother had punished her for. This feeling was what she wasn't supposed to feel. It was a sin to feel this. A sin she'd never be forgiven for now... for she was feeling it... and oh God, it was so good.
"That's where it is, baby. That's it... rock it up to me," he urged. "Rock it up to me."
Web could feel her shake and watched her hips lunge forward in the grind of a belly dancer, rocking her clit up to his massaging finger. He could see the pink flesh in firm swollen lips, wet with her moisture. Carefully he peeled the flesh back until he could see the tiny bud of her clitoris, erect and quivering like a tiny gorged penis. She was moaning and wailing in spite of herself, and then holding her breath as she saw her own clitoris reflected in the mirror and his finger press the tiny button. She jerked like a prodded animal at the end of an electrified cattle prod. Web could feel his cock jerking wildly against her smooth silken buttocks. Soon. Oh, God.
The mirrors reflected the rosily white flesh of her beautiful nakedness, thighs splayed and head now and then flopping back against his shoulder, the big heavy firmly rounded young breasts heaving and the pelvis arching lewdly to his pillaging finger. Jesus! That was the fieriest, pinkest, wettest, meatiest cunt he'd ever seen. Young and tender and ready. He moved one hand up to enclose the resilient heaviness of one breast and began sliding his finger along the length of her slick furrow.
"Oh-h-h-h-hhhhhhhhh," she breathed softly as she felt and saw him manipulate her naked body, his hands tanned against her whiteness- the blond hairs standing out on the backs of them. Her breasts felt tender and swollen, and the one he held seemed to flow over his clasping fingers, kneading the tenderness. Her vulva was wet and opening like a lascivious pink orchid, spreading its petaled lips to the burning sun of his golden hand.
This was a role she could never have imagined playing. The harlot writhing to the satyr's touch, her flesh sensuous and eager and urging, wanting his hot hands to never stop their insane libidinous machinations. She watched her body play the role avidly on this tiny bathroom stage. Only her eyes told her it was herself, not a character she could hide behind. It was herself that was enjoying this fleshly hell. It was herself that was reacting and participating. It was herself. Her own flesh, her own naked wanting flesh. How could her father have known that all the time she was a whore... that under her demure, modest demeanor there raged a waiting whore who needed only the opportunity? How could he have known that the real Celia Brown was a Jezebel, a harlot, a slut, a chippy, a brazen whore?
Web had stripped her mask as easily as he had stripped her body, and she had let him, ignoring all the signs, all the clues that had warned her that this night would happen... that this play would be played.
God damn! It was worth it! It had been worth waiting for. This girl was the hottest, most luscious, erotic thing he'd ever been lucky enough to hold in his lusting hands. He wanted it now. He'd waited so long, but he couldn't tear himself away yet from watching her writhing naked beauty under his hands, in the harsh light that showed him all of her in clinical yet poetic detail. He couldn't remember ever seeing any woman in such living color and detail as this well-lighted mirrored room showed him.
His hands moved slowly over her... as far as he could reach... up and down the sensual curves of thigh and hip and waist and breast and shoulder and arms and throat and all the way back down again. The white skin was like hot satin writhing under his hands to cleave to his caressing, wandering, adventuring hands.
He'd been a god-damned fool to wait so long. He'd known she was hot the minute he'd laid eyes on her. He still didn't understand his own patient plodding building up to tonight. It wasn't like him. But now that it was here... he was going to savor every bit of it. From now on, he'd have her any god-damned time he felt like it. This was his! He was going to have it whenever and wherever he wanted it.
"God!" he groaned, and turned her and caught her to him fiercely, pressing her hot white curves into him as hard as he could and finding her mouth. He could still see her imprinted behind his eyeballs, burned in rosy color into his brain as he closed his eyes and plunged his tongue into the wet warm hollow of her mouth. His tongue fucked into her mouth ferociously as his cock beat against her belly in frantic knocks.
He tore his mouth away finally to pant, "I'm going to fuck you silly, you beautiful little bitch," catching her hand and pulling away just enough to guide it down over his upstanding prick. He watched in the mirror the visual ecstasy of her hand, her little white hand slide down his aching, bloated cock.
"Skin it for me," he hissed feverishly, never taking his eyes from the lewd image of his own springing shaft enclosed in her soft hand, the bulbous head bursting out in a purpling bloom, his hands moving to stroke her breasts to coral-tipped rounded cones.
She looked up into his averted eyes that were glued in hot blue fascination to the mirrored reflection of their naked bodies ready for fucking. She looked quizzical and afraid and uncertain. Stalling again! He grabbed her loosely gripping hand and squeezed it hard over his almost bursting cock and jerked her hand under his, guiding it fiercely up and down.
"I said, skin it!" She trembled at the returning anger in his voice and the hardened closing of his face... but she knew now what he wanted. She pulled up and down on the massive long thickness of his penis that felt so foreign in her hand. She could feel the blood coursing in it under the hot skin and see the veins striating the surface and the purple obscenity of the head with its one eye oozing. She could not imagine how it could ever penetrate her body without killing her. How could she possibly hold its enormity within the small fleshy folds he had revealed to her where her thighs joined? She knew intellectually it must be possible, for the race could only generate in this terrible, horrible act that she knew was going to be done to her.
She looked in curiosity and growing dismay at the jerking, bucking instrument in her hands, the weapon that seemed to have a life of its own, as though it were unconnected to Web.
"That's it, baby," he panted obscenely, thrusting his hips forward so it touched its sticky, lewd head against her skin. She shrank back, her skin recoiling from the feel of that ugly, beastly organ.
Suddenly she felt ill... as though she were going to throw up the contents of her steak dinner all over this mirrored bathroom and all over his naked lusting animal body. She couldn't. If he killed her, she couldn't. She pulled away from him in horror, trying to quiet her churning stomach.
"I can't... Web..." she sobbed, fresh tears pouring from her eyes.
"We'll see," he screamed like a wounded bull, reaching out and picking her up to sling her over his shoulder like a sack and marching out the door toward the huge bed. Her hands beat wildly and ineffectually against his back. She was sobbing uncontrollably and wriggling and beating at him with her little fists which he ignored. He jerked the blue velvet coverlet back and then the bedclothes. God-damned bitch! By God, if she wanted rape.... that's just what she'd get!
He flung her onto the white sheets, and her head snapped onto the pillow. She looked small and vulnerable and miserable, the tears streaking her contorted tortured face. Ruthlessly he threw himself down on her, pulling her lovely legs apart so she was spread-eagled beneath him, and dropped his head to catch one beautiful mountain of breast in his mouth.
"Agh... aghhhhhhhh!" she screamed as she felt his mouth close on her naked breast. Her arms strained against the bonds of his hands and her legs tried to scissor closed, but she was trapped, pinned down helplessly by his strong, hard body. She could feel his tongue swirling around her nipple, which had popped out in his mouth in quivering attention. Oh, no! What was he doing? She could feel his hot breath rushing raggedly through his nose against her shrinking flesh as his blazing mouth began to suck her breast in a fierce suction that sent fine needles of pleasure threading through her body. Something strange was happening to her... down there... between her legs. The nausea had fled and a sucking in-an in-drawn sensation that seemed to draw in time to his voraciously sucking mouth-replaced it. It was a feeling of longing... of loneliness... of yearning that she didn't understand.
He held her immobile and savagely sank his teeth into her nipple, knowing the pain would be a pleasure she'd scream for again. She did scream "AGGGGGGGHHHHHHH"... and arched her breasts up in the agony, her muscles ridging as her arms and legs tried to escape his cruel hands and body.
Web slid his mouth over to drink from her other bursting breast. Oh, God! Her scented flesh smelled faintly of gardenia and lemon, and he could almost taste droplets of some exotic creamy aphrodisiac flowing out of her rigid ruby hard nipple into his lusting mouth. He sucked harder, feeling the velvety tiny buds like taste buds on the end of her nipple against his tongue. Her sobs were gradually changing to moans. That's it. Moan for me, baby. The blood was pounding in his temples and echoed in his thirsting cock that pulsed fitfully.
Celia was writhing and struggling uselessly against the iron fetters of his hands and the hard weight of his hot steel body. Her breath labored in shudders through her lungs as her body arched her breasts up to his gluttonous mouth. A hot heavy golden honey seemed to flow from deep within her to her breast and out the focused nipple into his draining mouth. He drew his mouth out to the very tip of her nipple, leaving a large wet portion of her breast exposed to the air. She could feel Web's tongue lick in little trails from the base up to the crowning tip of her mountainous breast. He licked and licked both breasts all the way around till both nipples stood up in quivering wet yearning. The sobs that wracked her were easing to strange sounds like a searching puppy eagerly seeking the home flesh of its mother.
The terrible, beautiful warmth was stealing back through her anger-chilled limbs, and the fire centered somewhere in her depths under her navel was kindling and spreading. It brought a lassitude that relaxed her arms and legs and the muscles gradually eased to limpness against the sheets. A numbing blankness was creeping through her brain, and thought was shrinking out of her consciousness and only feeling was taking over her whole being.
"Fucking god-damned bitch..." Web muttered against the hot white satin of her skin, kissing the valley between her breasts up her breastbone to her throat where a pulse beat wildly in the tendoned cage. He kissed over the whole surface of her soft shoulders and the hollows of her tender young throat, up her jaw and ears, plunging his tongue into the hot haven of her rosy little ears. He could feel her shiver and shake beneath him. She was heating up again just fine... and the thought sent a stabbing shiver down his spine that dove inward to pierce his bloated balls. Jesus. He didn't want to be a bastard, but no bitch was going to treat him the way she had.
He kissed the salty tears from her temples and cheeks, over her little nose and across both fluttering ivory spoons of her eyelids. Web found her soft trembling mouth with his and bruised his lips down on hers. Her mouth responded and clung to him. Cautiously and waiting for one false move, he slid his hands up her arms and dug one arm under her to cup her buttock. Her hands and arms fluttered tentatively up to slide around his shoulders and up the back of his neck. That was better. He could feel the muscles tighten in her thighs as he lay between them, and the blood in his cock was beating urgently in a message he was sure she was receiving in the warm bowl of her belly.
"Mmm-mmmmmm-mmm," Celia heard him groan in her mouth as his tongue lunged between her teeth and probed her own deeply. She could feel the hard muscles of his shoulders and arms bulge, and he tightened his hold on her and the weight of him pressing her into the crisp sheets was suddenly a dear weight she felt she could bear forever. Timidly her hands strayed down his hard naked body. She no longer felt pinned down but protected by his strong muscular body, wide shoulders narrowing to lean buttocks. Even as she held him, naked and close between her legs she wanted to be even closer.
Web slid one hand down the silken length of her beautiful body that cushioned him so perfectly. He moved slightly to allow his hand to inch toward her mound. The soft crisp hairs were electric to his fingers, and he parted them gently to slide one finger down into the hot channel he'd already prepared. His finger met slippery, silken wet flesh, and he slid up and down the length of delicious slit, open and silkily liquid to receive him.
"Ohhhhhh... We-e-e-e-ebbbb!" she groaned and writhed beneath him. She felt again the sliding delicacy of his finger in her private part.
"Goddd... baby... stop kidding yourself! You're hotter than a pistol. I can't wait, baby... you're all ready... I'm going to put... my love stick right up in... your love nest...." He panted, catching his hard, impatient, throbbing prick and placing it in position right in the edge of her slippery vulva lips.
Her eyes opened, and the glaze of passion was suddenly wiped with fear. "Oh... Web... please... don't... stop... stop now!" The tears poured afresh from her eyes and naked terror shone once more from her face. "I... never... have... please don't...." All the while she begged him not to, her pelvis arched up to him and her hands clutched his shoulders. If ever a woman needed fucking, this one did! Web flexed his knees and tightened his buttocks and dived into her waiting, quivering heaven open beneath him. Jesus! She was so tight it was like having his cock skinned by a vise... and he was only inside an inch or two. Christ! Maybe she was telling the truth. It seemed impossible that a girl this beautiful could possibly be a virgin at nineteen in this day and age. But she had come from a small provincial town.
Celia felt hysteria begin to grip her though she had no name for the fragmented helpless feeling that made her want to scream and curse and sob and strike out. He was doing it! She could feel his great throbbing instrument forcing against her tender flesh. It was so huge! It would kill her! There'd be headlines. Her father would know that she'd finally sunk to the level of his predictions.
Her body seemed not to heed the terror that was stalking through her just from the feel of his great pulsating organ that was inside her so tightly. Involuntarily and without her permission, her pelvis ground up to him and he eagerly forced the advantage, taking her movement as a signal.
"God... baby... you're so tight... so good!" he grunted, burying his lips in her neck. "Ohhhhh... I can't wait...." She felt Web arch and lunge, and she was split! The pain was excruciating!
"Ahhhhhhhhh!" she screamed a high piercing wail so loud that he was afraid someone would come to investigate. He covered her mouth with his to stifle her. Jesus! She was telling the truth! She was a virgin! My God! Her tight little cunt was almost painful, clenched around his prick so hard and close, and something had given when he'd lunged so hard. He'd felt it. The tears were pouring from her eyes again, and she was blubbering into his mouth pitifully from the pain.
"Lie still," he commanded. "Be very still. I won't move. It's all right, baby. It'll stop hurting in a minute."
"We-e-ebb," she sobbed. "Hu-u-ur-r-rts... so... terrible... please." She'd never felt such unbelievable pain. The knife of his huge penis had sliced her in two, and she knew she must be bleeding. It couldn't hurt so unbearably without bleeding. She wondered dimly if she'd have to go to a hospital to be sewn up.
"It always hurts the first time... but it'll stop soon," he soothed, kissing her wet face and smoothing her tear-soaked hair away from her temples. "I promise you, baby. It'll stop. We'll lie very still till it stops hurting." He was still amazed that she'd been telling the truth. He'd heard that line from so many, dames who'd been at it since they were fifteen, hot and heavy. Despite his guilt, his long-denied penis jerked inside brutally, joyful at being where it needed to be at long last. A grimace of pain twisted her face and she wailed again.
"No-o-o-o-o-o-o...." Celia heard the sound come out her own throat as she felt his mammoth organ jerk deep inside her belly. It hurt so terribly she didn't know how she was going to stand it. She felt Web withdraw a fraction of an inch, and she held her breath and then caught it... anticipating more agony.
Very slowly Web pushed forward again and then eased out a bit more, feeling the hard rubbery walls of her vagina hold him in a biting grip. God! He'd never felt anything so fantastic. She had the smallest tightest little cunt he'd ever been in, and he longed to fuck into her frantically, for the pressure in his balls was almost excruciating. Suddenly he couldn't stand it. She'd pushed his buttons long enough! He lunged, hoping he wasn't tearing her too badly, but unable to stop. He had to have it now!
The pain was excruciating as she felt his huge, filling, ripping penis fucking in and out of her small helpless body. She tried to will her mind to ignore it, to erase it, to get somehow above the torture, but she felt all of it, all of the ramming, raping bull organ that ravished her.
To Celia's amazement the pain was gradually being mixed with a strange excitement. Somewhere in the hysterical, frantic workings of her numbed brain, she knew she was no longer a virgin, no longer pure, that her father's predictions had come true... she was a fallen woman... a whore. Her throat closed even tighter, and she screamed brokenly, "I... don't want... to be... a... whore...."
"You're not a whore, baby," he panted. Jesus! No whore could be as hot and tight and fucking good as this.
Her body and her mind and her heart had never been so assaulted with such conflicts and questions and unfamiliar emotions. She was never going to be the same after this night. Her whole life was being changed right now, this moment. Out of the whirling chaos in her head, Patrick's lines in the play came back to her... "Virginity by being once lost may be ten times found...." She must cling to that. She repeated it over and over in her head as she felt Web's great, huge steel shaft begin to ease a little deeper inside her.
Web increased the slow plunder into her, trying to distract his wildly eager cock until she came fully to life and could enjoy it. As he kissed her, his hand stroked her white silken skin... her breast and rib cage and curved hip and thigh. As he pulled his huge impatient prick out almost to the end, he slipped his hand between their naked bodies and found the quivering little button of her clitoris. Gently he massaged it and it rose to swift attention, erect and quaking, and she moaned and arched beneath him.
He wanted to go down on her and suck her frightened little cunt to wild orgasms, but he knew that could frighten her even more than fucking right now. As he massaged the tiny organ with his finger, he could fuck into her easier, for she was flowing fresh rivulets of fluid from deep within her.
"Oh-h-h-h..." she moaned softly as she felt the incredible sensation of his finger on her there. A fluid warmth was vibrating somehow down there, and she wanted to be closer and closer to him. She could feel his mammoth penis sliding into her, and she wanted it there now. She wanted him deeply inside her... a part of her... joined and closer... and closer. Her thighs opened wider of their own accord and her hips lifted up to meet his thrusts and it was beautiful to hold him deep in the well of her body.
His hand slipped around to hold her naked, firmly round buttocks and lift her even closer to him as he plunged into the heaven of her close-fitting vagina. The muscular walls were clasping and holding him now in eagerness, and he could begin to unleash the full force of the raging carnality of his bulging, thrusting, huge, blood-gorged cock that had been so long denied.
Celia whimpered in his arms and kissed him hungrily, her tiny tongue darting timidly at first into his mouth. Slowly she was beginning to writhe and undulate beneath him, her breasts and belly and thighs and hips arching in turn to cleave even closer to his deepening thrusts into her moist velvet cavern that choked hard on his great blunt rod. His mouth was ravenously trying to suck the sweet nectar from her ripe lips while their tongues made love in lewd fucking, back and forth in time to his hardening lunges deep into the secret recesses of her awakening body.
Web forced his hands beneath her shoulders and ran them under her to feel the smooth curves of her back and hips. He felt the raised ridges of her spine moving almost imperceptibly as she writhed slowly to him in a slow teasing rhythm. Her innocence was being overcome by the age-old instincts that flowed hotly in her blood without her knowledge. He wedged his hands under her smooth buttocks, sucked in his breath and threw his hips forward, feeling her receptive, moistly tight virginal hole accepting and absorbing his rigid prick all the way to the hilt.
"Ah-h-h-h-hhhhhh!" she screamed, but the passion had somehow edged over the pain. There was a strange pride in knowing she had taken all of him into her body... deeply into her very depths to hold him and cherish him. She was his woman. She must be a full woman and bear the pain for his sake. "Oh, God!" Celia cried out at the almost enrapturing sensation of his thick long rock-hard shaft sliding deep deep deep into the seething constriction of her vagina.
Web could feel his cock buried deep in her fully dilated, moist, clasping cunt and his balls caressing the smooth furrow between her lush white ass cheeks. The knowledge that he was the first... the only man who'd ever been inside her sweet-flowing, encasing pussy sent incredible spasms of enchanting bliss coursing through him. She was his! His very own! No one had ever plowed this field before him and he raked harder into the moist virginal earth of her beautiful, passionate body. There was nothing but the sensation of his heavy cock entombed deep inside the velvety walls of her tight young hole... nothing except the unbelievable pleasure of this wonderful, lovely girl who now wanted him as much as he wanted her.
"Ohhhh... baby..." he groaned, and Celia still whimpered at the pain-pleasure of the unexpected agony of the rubbery head of his thick cock battering the depths of her soft yielding body. Her torment now seemed to incite his passion even more, and she could feel him drive even harder into her, grinding his pelvis harshly against her tender sensitive loins, flexing the head at the apex of each thrust and raising more moans from deep in her throat. She was entirely impaled on his rampaging cock that was probing the intricate core of her secret depths. She strained up to him, knowing somehow that the pain could only be eased now by heading straight into it and not trying to avoid it... and she was right. A rapturous feeling was beginning to slowly rise in waves of a bliss she could never have imagined.
"Ohhhh... oh, darling... darling... take me... take all of me... just love me... "she begged in the throes of an ecstatic anesthesia that numbed her reason and judgment and blanked out the whole world except for the union of their wildly cleaving bodies.
Web could never remember feeling anything to equal the building rapture that her eager young body was giving him and the impassioned begging she moaned up to him only increased his ardor. She was a giving woman. She gave and he wanted all she had. Christ! He could fuck her forever! Her soft young arms were clasping his back as hard as she could and her hands were digging into his flesh and he was sure she didn't even know what her own hands were doing. Soon they'd be digging the nails in furrows down his back!
He felt her spread her lovely thighs to the fullest, giving him full access to the ravishment of her beautiful wanting pussy that he was giving the best initiation he was capable of. For the first time he began to understand the insistence down through the ages of men for virgins. It was the god-damnedest sensation he'd ever had! Knowing it was the first... and the only time this particular experience could ever happen to her... and that he was the one who could give it to her. Jesus! He was going out of his frigging mind!
Celia offered up her whole self to Web's demanding hard body that was urging her onward and upward to a universe of feeling she had never before entered. The edge of a whirling vortex was beginning to suck her in as his pillaging penis drove into her sensuous depths and the passionate moans spilled from his lips against her throat where his lips buried and his mouth blew in gusts of hot lascivious anguish. Her whole body lurched and arched up to him, straining ever closer to some holy vision, some godhead of delight that awaited her. Miraculously the pain had gone as he'd predicted, and she could accept his huge throbbing pole completely inside her soft depths with abandoned rapture. She could feel him stroke in and out of her private secret entrance with building intensity and she drove him on... her nails beginning to rake his back. There was some nirvana they were striving for... some pleasure beyond the incredible waves that were washing her ever closer and closer... a goal to be reached... unknown but ecstatic.
"Ohh... my darling..." she panted, "tell me... show me... teach me..." she begged, tremulous tears of an imagined inadequacy gathering in her eyes.
Her head was flailing from side to side and her body lurched fitfully as she shook with the unbelievable enormity of what she was feeling and experiencing for the first time. Web could tell that it was going to be all right. Her time was close. He could hold out. By gritting his teeth and forcibly holding back the threatening flood of semen that was splitting his balls he could hold out. He had to! God! He mustn't spoil it now.
"My... baby... my woman... just hold me... hang on to me!" He frantically grabbed her thighs till they clasped his waist as he fucked into her furiously. She responded and rode his pole like a dancer, clenching him with fevered arms and hands and legs, wails of unintelligible passion now spilling from her lips, her face contorted in the deep throes of the agonizing ecstasy that was opening for her. His hot wet rod fucked in and out of her clasping pink pussy with a sucking sound that was audible, and he could smell the musky odors of their mutual desire as their fluids poured and mixed and lubricated their mating organs.
Suddenly she tensed to a rigid string of muscle as she arched even higher, and Web knew it was beginning for her.
"Cummmmm... cummm... cum on baby cum with me... CUMMMMM!" he screamed just as Celia felt the vortex suck her into a blinding, exploding, whirling, igniting burst of rapture that showered stars in her head and new worlds spun off with the speed of light, colliding and exploding in sheets of light flashes brighter than any sun.
"AAAAA-EEEEEE-IIIIIII-AAAAAAAAA-EEEEEEEE!" she screamed, her body arched and pushing him with her completely up off the bed till they hung as though pierced through the loins and suspended in midair by an unseen sword. Goo-o-o-od-d-dd! It was too much. Web felt the intricate mechanism of his genitals begin to scream into the agonizing release of his own orgasm, triggered by her exploding body. Great pressurized streams of semen flew from his bursting balls to roar down the constricted channels of his rigid penis and into her blinding-hot belly and pool deep in her vitals. He could feel the pumping gusts spewing out the nozzle of his cock in spending spraying beautiful streams. Jesus!
His head drew back and the muscles of his neck stood out in cords, and he fucked the spasms of creamy sperm deep inside her receptive womb that sought to suck the very life from him.
"FUCK... FUCK... FUCK..." he screamed uncontrollably, his body carrying out the action of his words in a frantic effort to force his prick completely through her clenching, rigid body. This had to be the end of the whole damn world.