Chapter 5
Barbara usually had a Coke before she went up to bed. Downstairs, that is. Upstairs, she might have a small shot of the vodka that she kept so well hidden-or, if there was nobody around, she'd sneak a tumbler of gin into her bedroom and enjoy a nightcap before bed. But on that particular night-the night of the day when Jerry bruised his shoulder-her secret supply of vodka was dry, so Barbara was mixing some of her father's vodka with the Coke in her long, slim glass.
Jerry came into the living room and saw her. Barbara was surprised. She'd thought he was in bed. He usually went to bed early to keep out of her way, Barbara suspected, to put an end to her ceaseless series of teasing sessions. Tonight, with her parents out, visiting friends, she'd been sure that he was securely in bed, sleeping-or, she thought with a giggle, diddling with his fiddling, engineering fingers. Maybe his bruised shoulder interfered with his diddling! Barbara felt a tremor of amusement flicker through her body at the thought.
Then Jerry spoke. "You drink?" he sounded shocked as well as surprised.
Barbara gave her little-girl sigh. "Headache," she murmured, "I've got a headache. I'm afraid I won't sleep, so I thought a teeny drink might help." She smiled at Jerry, watching for his blush.
His expression seemed more strained than embarrassed. "W-would you like one of these pills?" he asked, taking the vial from his pocket. "The ones that the doc gave me for sleep?"
Barbara's eyes widened. "Oh, no-what a dreadful thing!"
Jerry moved uncomfortably. "W-what's so dreadful?"
Barbara stared at him in mock horror. "Just one of those would knock me out. You know that! I'd be helpless!"
The vial seemed to tremble in his fingers. "Well-I mean, if you're going to bed with a headache, one'd make you sleep."
"No, thank you, Jerry," she said primly, determinedly. "Just a little Coke and tiny shot of vodka will put me to sleep all right." She smiled at him demurely, then walked into the kitchen to get a cube of ice.
Barbara was replacing the tray in the fridge when she glanced up and saw Jerry in the mirror. She froze. From where she was standing in the kitchen, Barbara could see the reflection of the liquor cabinet in the antique mirror on the far wall of the living room. She could see Jerry, too-and her drink. Jerry was dropping some pills into the glass! The sleeping pills! She closed the door of the fridge quietly and moved out of the line of vision.
Why would Jerry do a thing like that? Barbara sat on a kitchen chair. She wanted to think this out. After a moment, she took a deep breath and stood up. She had figured it out.
She smiled at Jerry as she walked back into the living room and dropped the small cubes of ice into her glass. "D'you think I should?" she asked Jerry.
"S-should!" he stammered. His face seemed pale, not blushing.
"Take a drink, I mean-" she said, indicating the glass. "Maybe my headache'll go away- maybe I shouldn't drink this."
His hands started to tremble. "Oh, I think you should." He sounded too anxious. "It'll help you a lot. I know it will!"
Barbara smiled at him. She was right! "You really think so?" She slightly raised her eyebrows.
He wanted to knock her out, and then he could-just what would he do? She felt a burning curiosity to know. Would he rape her? Or would he be too shy? Would he lose his nerve -even with an unconscious girl-and stand there, diddling himself, playing with himself, maybe staring at her breasts, or her what?
"Oh, yes." He was overeager. "I'm sure it'll help you!" Then the phone rang. "S-shall I answer?" he asked with his stammer.
She smiled at him. "All right, Jerry." She watched him as he shambled into the hallway. As soon as he was out of her sight, she took a fresh glass from the cabinet, filled it with Coke, then added a spare cube of ice. The other glass, the one with the vodka and the pills, she took to the kitchen and quickly and silently emptied its contents down the sink. When Jerry returned, she was standing by the cabinet. "Well?"
"Your father," said Jerry, "they'll be very late-your mother and father-somethin' w-with the c-car," he finished, stammering worse than ever before.
Barbara sighed. "Well-no use waitin' up. Guess I'll go to bed." And she moved towards the stairs. "Good-night, Jerry," she called over her shoulder.
"Your drink!" his voice was shrill like a girl's. "You've forgotten your drink!"
"My drink?" Then Barbara sighed, as if remembering. "Of course." She moved back to the liquor cabinet, picked up the glass. "Can you drink a whole glass in one long swallow?" she asked.
He shook his head, watching her, breathlessly.
Barbara tiled the glass, threw her head back and poured the Coke swiftly down. She gasped, choked a little, then pretended to stagger. "Funny," she said, very low, "I-I feel kinda dizzy-" He reached for her arm, held it. She could feel the tremor in his fingers. "I'll help you upstairs," he muttered, his voice all choked up.
"I-I'll be all right," Barbara made her voice weak. "I'll go straight to bed." Then she moved away from him and walked unsteadily up the stairs. She didn't know how fast the pills were supposed to act, she thought as she wobbled upstairs, didn't know how shaky to act-how soon -but then, Jerry didn't know either, she reassured herself, restraining a giggle at the crazy situation.
Barbara stood in front of her dressing mirror in her panties and bra and admired herself. So that's what Jerry wants to screw! she said below her breath, then giggled. She slid down her panties, stepped out of them-then her eyes flickered back to the glass. The pubic hairs seemed more profuse each time she examined them. She let her hand drop, stroked them lightly; they seemed alive with electricity. She slid her fingers down, felt the wet lips moving of their own accord. She slipped a finger inside, let it glide up and felt her clitoris twitch. Barbara moved her hand away quickly; she didn't want to peak too soon.
She giggled. Then she saw the pink slit oozing open. That! she spewed, wetly and soundlessly, That's what Jerry wants! Her hand moved up, removed her brassiere and her breasts seemed larger, bigger, fuller than usual. She stroked them idly, unconsciously almost, thinking of Jerry, and wondering what he'd do if she let him do anything... He'd squirted his stinkin' stuff onto her. Now, he wanted to spurt it into her!
She mouthed the words at her reflection, forming the words with her lips visually but soundlessly, then adding: Filthy prick! Horrible thing! Saying it, then repeating it-and finding strange pleasure in that, too! How could she tease him when she was supposed to be unconscious? she asked herself.
She jerked up her hand, stared at her face this time instead of her body. Her lips looked pale, and the lines around her mouth seemed tight, strained, tense. She'd like to hurt Jerry! Barbara clenched her small fists in the thought. Her eyes flickered back at her from the glass; flickered wildly, rapidly, erratically. She felt hungry for pain, to inflict it! How could she do such a thing without him being aware? Without making him aware that she was awake?
Her fingernails pierced deeper into her palms as she clenched her fists more fiercely. He'd know she was awake! A real live girl, not some inanimate doll that he could rape or screw or use in any way he liked, then discard! All at once, Barbara became aware of the pain in her hands and unclenched her fists. Her head jerked down and she looked at her hands, opening them, curiously, wonderingly, staring at the small marks that her sharp nails had left in her flesh.
The breath hissed from her lips! She'd claw Jerry! It would be the natural thing to do- even for an unconscious girl-to scratch, tear, to use her nails, claw like a cat or a kitten.
A kitten, she thought. Jerry probably thought of her as a kitten, not a cat. She smiled at the thought, then her lips tightened. Even a kitten has claws! She tensed suddenly. Was that a sound on the stairs? Barbara strained her ears, heard nothing, then slid her feet out of her shoes, stared down at her stockingless legs. Then she slipped lithely under the covers. Had she heard Jerry coming up for his piece?
She closed her eyes, just in case. She wouldn't want to shock him with wide-open eyes! He'd be scared! The thought amused her. Imagine Jerry thinking that he could use her!
Barbara clenched her lips to restrain her giggles. Then she heard him, and lay very still, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, breathing deeply, serenely-like a good little girl, who'd been doped.
Jerry stood at her bedroom door, staring at her. Drinking her in with his eyes. She was out! he told himself. Right out! "Barbara," he whispered, just to be sure, "are you asleep?"
She lay very still, barely moving.
He gave a deep sigh of relief, moved into the bedroom and carefully, closed the door, then locked it.
Barbara heard the click of the lock-and felt a faint flicker run through her body. Not of fear but of curiosity! He locked the door before he diddled. Did he have to lock it before he screwed or raped? Then, belatedly, Barbara felt revulsion. The prick! The horrid, filthy prick!
She didn't want it in her! She was a nice, clean girl who didn't screw. That's what she was-nice! Everyone knew that. She was sweet and nice and Daddy's little girl! but if she was unconscious and raped, that wouldn't stop her from being nice! She'd still be a sweet, young virgin really. Even though someone had pushed it in her-the thing-the prick! It would only be because she couldn't help it!
She felt a new kind of sensation flickering through her body. A sensation of half apprehension, half desire. Would it hurt? Barbara's thighs squeezed tightly together at the thought, as though they were denying entry to any alien flesh or muscle or bone-she didn't even know exactly what it was! She let her breath out silently. Maybe, just maybe, Jerry wouldn't even try to rape her! Maybe at the final moment, he'd be too scared. Too shy! Barbara was startled at the throb of disappointment and fright that pulsed through her body. She relaxed her legs, opened her eyes a crack, saw Jerry standing there, unfastening the buckle on his belt. Oh, my God! Something like fear raced through her veins. What had she started? But he was merely preparing to slide his pants down. He wasn't going to slash her, as she'd thought for a frightened tingling minute. She bit her lip surreptitiously to keep it from trembling. That's what she'd have wanted to do! Barbara screwed her eyes shut tight, as if ashamed of her own emotions, desires... If she'd had someone helpless, at her mercy it would have thrilled her intensely!
She eased her eyes open. His underpants were off now and the penis was visible, protruding outward, already aroused. Barbara looked at it through shielded eyes. She'd seen it through the bathroom keyhole, she'd seen it in Jerry's bedroom. Each time, he'd been gripping it, lathering it with a sweaty slather of lust, of frustrated passion-because of her teasing!
She was still aware of a sensory response at the sight of it. Even though it seemed as familiar as the big, nervous hands which gripped it as though they hated it, squeezed it as though they loved it, and pulled, twisted and tortured it with such savage intensity. Barbara remembered seeing it, too, when he'd paused at her bedroom door-then entered, stood at the foot of her bed and pointed it at her as though it were a gun. It had exploded, all right! The penis had shot a spurt of wetness onto her flesh, and she recalled her emotions afterwards-the strange, melanged emotions of hatred and love. Repulsion and desire! She had the same sensations now.
Jerry ripped off his shirt and she saw that his hands were trembling; saw too, that his penis had risen of its own accord until it seemed to be pointing at her face. Naked now, Jerry walked to the head of her bed and stood very still. Barbara closed her eyes tightly to hide the smallest glimmer. She could hear his breathing: harsh, heavy, uneven.
"Barbara," he whispered, then louder: "Barbara-can you hear me?"
She lay still, kept her breathing regular, easy and relaxed with an effort of will.
He seemed reassured and she felt the bed sag as he sank down on it close to her face. "Oh, Barbara," he breathed with bated emotion.
Now! the small voice in her head told her, warned her, promised her. Now he'd rape her! Then she felt his face touch hers, gently, softly -and it was hard to restrain a startled gasp when she realized that he was rubbing his cheeks against hers.
"So smooth," he murmured, "so sweet." He nuzzled her, hungrily and longingly. He kissed her forehead, then her eyes, cheeks and lips with a gentle mouth.
She felt him draw back, then he spoke quietly; "Sweet-but cruel!" His mouth went onto hers again, but this time he drove in fiercely, probing his tongue into the secret crannies, sucking the warm, wet tissue, drawing her tongue into his mouth, and savoring it, hungrily, urgently.
Barbara neither helped nor impeded. He held her close with his fingers, pressing inward, forcing her lips to part whether she wanted them to or not, and she accepted his ministrations as though she was a limp, plasticated, but porous doll.
She felt him stand up and she lay still as though she were quite helpless, unconscious, drugged. But her eyes opened a glimmer and she saw the big hands holding his penis. Holding it lightly, pointing it towards her face. Then he moved it forward and she felt him rubbing it against her cheeks. It crossed her lips and her slightly parted mouth felt the wet slit at its tip pause at the opening. Oh, no! she moaned within herself, Not that! Please, not that!
He pushed it inward and her lips stretched as wide to accommodate the bulbous head forced into her mouth. He slid it in, then out, with smooth, wet movements.
Barbara took it passively. The head of the shaft felt so smooth, as though the skin was stretched to the tightest limit to contain the pulsing energy which was striving to burst out and spew itself onto her tongue, her lips, her teeth. For a crazy moment Barbara wondered what he'd do if she bit down sharply with her strong teeth, sinking them into the vibrant but vulnerable shaft, drawing blood from the alien flesh that dared to penetrate the secret recesses of her mouth. She felt a shiver of pleasure just at the thought. It would be an intense sensation for both of them!
She restrained a crazy giggle-and heard Jerry's breath rasping in his throat. He withdrew his penis from between her lips and she felt a driblet of wetness drop from the end of it onto her chin as it passed. Filthy prick! she spewed silently. But she was careful to keep her lips still, retain her pose of helplessness.
"Lovely!" Jerry said the word out loud as though he were bolder now. He squeezed the tip of her breast, making the nipple flatten, then tense, elongate. His mouth went onto it and he drew it into his mouth, sucked it as though he were a child.
She felt his hand moving over her body as he did it. The long, sensitive fingers traveled over her flesh. Stroking, caressing, feeling, probing, exploring. Curious hands, she thought, nervous fingers, so used to manipulating, fiddling, diddling. He was diddling her now! She felt the finger press into her vulva. Felt her vaginal lips part spontaneously as he pushed upward. The inner walls squeezed against the long slenderness, gripping it, creating wet sucking pressure. The air panted from Jerry's mouth, hitting her breast as his lips sucked, pulled, bit.
Then she felt his whole body tense, his finger freeze when it encountered her intact hymen. His head jerked back from her breast. "A virgin!" he breathed. Then his head slid down her body until it nestled between her thighs. Two long fingers slid into the opening, stretched the wide vaginal lips, while a third finger slipped up, high up, and then jabbed at the barrier. "Untouched!" Jerry gasped, then: "Incredible!"
She felt his body trembling with emotion-or eagerness? Then he was dragging her legs open, pulling them apart heavily, viciously as though he no longer needed or desired to be tender. "You're gonna be screwed!" he mouthed loudly. And it didn't sound like Jerry's voice at all, Barbara thought. "I'm gonna screw your teasing, virginal hole, my little bitch," he muttered wetly. "Screwable little bitch," he added as he spread his long body on top of her small, so vulnerable and available flesh.
His knees pressed against his thighs, opening them wider and Barbara felt the wet lips parting with a small, sucking sound. He dropped on top of her heavily; his chest flattened her breasts, his face was so close to hers that his breath rasped in her ears. He groped down with his hand, seized his penis and steered the pulsing shaft up to the virginal cunt, pried at the entrance, opened it-thrust up...
It's too big, Barbara screamed inside herself. It's too long! It'll tear, rip, shred me wide open! She tried to say the words out loud, but couldn't because his mouth covered hers, his lips slathering saliva onto hers, into her mouth, while his whole face worked spasmodically.
The stifled scream was quelled by his mouth when his penis touched, then pierced the fragile hymen. Barbara felt the pain shooting outward, then inward until it climaxed at the tender ring of ruptured tissue. "Rape!" she wanted to shriek. "I'm being raped!" But the maw of a mouth which covered hers muffled all sound.
He was too engrossed in his thrusting, jerking motions to be aware that she was wriggling her body, gripping him with her thighs, bending her knees. He worked until his penis had swollen grotesquely, stretching Barbara's vulva as it had never been stretched before. Then he thrust deeper, lifted his shoulder, arched his back, spurted.
"I'm coming, Barbara!" he shouted, though he thought she was unaware. "I'm screwing you, Barbara!" he screamed. "You virginal cunt!" And he drove with a violent compulsion. "Oooooooh, Barbara!" His voice rose to an ear-splitting shriek. "I've come! I've screwed it- you teasing, prick-tempting, delicious cunt!" His body collapsed on top of her. His breath came in painful sobs. With his mouth beside her ear, he moaned: "You little bitch, you-you sweet bitch!" Then he moved his head tiredly and kissed her on the mouth.
Barbara lay very still as though what had happened was not of her doing. As if it were an occurrence over which she had no control, no power, no involvement. She was still a virgin! A sweet, young virgin! She was still nice! She tried to smile, reassure herself that what had happened wasn't really real-was just some dream, some daydream that hadn't taken place. Hadn't involved her. But she knew it wasn't true, because when the raping penis had squirted its lust, its juice spurting through her shattered virginal barrier, she had orgasmed with a wild intensity that was not only unexpected but also undreamed of. She had been involved-so very involved!
You bastard! she wanted to scream. You filthy bastard! But her limp body felt powerless; her lips too weak to move, and her voice was paralyzed by the paroxysmal orgiastic frenzy which had enveloped her so completely.
She felt Jerry rolling off her; moving slowly, tiredly, breathing deeply through his nose. He lay very still for a minute, then she felt his hands go onto her body again, and he was turning her, as if she was a raggedy doll, until she was lying facedown on the bed. His breath seemed to hit her bare back with small hot spurts, then he spoke: "I've seen it before," he muttered, hoarse and breathless, "but never so close."
His hand went onto her buttocks and he squeezed her flesh, twisting it between his long, strong fingers, pulling it, teasing it. "Never so -" he rasped, "accessible!" Then his hand came down with a sharp, hard slap, and Barbara felt the hotness spreading from her bottom to her thighs, then flickering between them and upward. His hand came down again, harder. "Ohhh, honey...!"
And Barbara's flickers started. The flesh on her buttocks was a hot mass of tender tissue. Each slap seemed to burn in a little deeper, penetrate more intensely. Barbara moaned audibly.
Jerry stopped his spanking and moved his head close to her face. "Barbara," he hissed.
She lay still, breathing deeply, forcing her lips to keep closed.
He gave a small sigh of relief. "Don't wake yet," he said lightly, as if he were making a joke. "I haven't finished with my teasing little girl yet!" And he spanked her again, making her bottom bob up and down the violence of the slaps.
He was still slapping, and with the other hand waving her rear architecture in front of his wide eyes. The eyes were feasting madly on the jutting, high-set moon-round haunches. He moved the deeply divided domes of saucy, taut flesh in a slow pain-enacted grind. He spread her cheeks with almost dainty fingers this time, and a slightly rosy glow marked the center spot.
His eyes were still feasting. He arched her ass, then swung it shallow in a forward thrust. She was now turned halfway to one side and the silhouette of twisted waist and adorable bottom was superb before his gaze. He moved a hand up, fingers spread wide apart, to make her creamy bubbly breasts bob and jiggle a separate dance.
Now he was gently holding her hips, steadying them in his grasp of easy rhythm, and he was just watching, enchanted. He was breathing painfully hard, the one hand again creeping up to those white tits, under them, squeezing and feeling and nipple playing. His fingers began a gentle rubbing and plucking at the long, tender, aroused nipples. His hands were now both filled with the smooth, round and resilient flesh.
His entire body seemed strained with excitement. His strong fingers dug into her as he arched her against him. His body was all gleamingly sweat soaked. A speculative withdrawal, a determined goading, a wiggle, a grind and then another rubbing of his full weight thrust down on her.
His kisses all over her body were hungry, deep, long and exalting. There were tears on his cheeks, his arms locked around her ribs now as he held her in a long enduring embrace, all his senses reeling, instinct and desire gushing through his balls, his prick, his stomach, gashing itself against the inside of his spine. With a single, seasoned motion he again dropped his hand over her bottom and plunged a solid finger, bulls-eyeing her asshole on the first shot. Little gurgles of sudden astonishment caught themselves in Barbara's throat, and she wanted so badly to aimlessly walk her legs up in the air on either side of him...
He rocked back and forth on the bed, as if in a cradle, his finger a knuckle into her rear, then two joints. Barbara's mind was going wild. Tears rubbed off his cheek onto her tormented flesh, his mouth woman-hungry, gulping at her. Every nerve in her body urged her to become a bursting bouquet under him, let her hot skin become hysterical with movement, but she resisted. Sky rockets shot up at the roof of her mouth, and she dared not even swallow. A leaf drifted downstream inside her excited brain.
Then his body went limp over her young hunger. She could still hear the long moans deep in his chest, while he did nothing but move that one submerged finger. When he finally ceased, the spurting throbs of heat ran over the whole of her body, and tiny thrills of melanged pain and pleasure flickered in every part of her flesh.
"Good," said Jerry softly. "That was so good, Barbara-tease." He caressed her flesh again, gently, not hurtfully this time, then asked: "Like it, Barbara-puss?" She heard him laugh and hated him, because she knew he was mimicking her father.
"Barbara-baby!" he said, touching the tiny star that nestled between the hot, abused cheeks of her bottom. "Barbara-baby like?" he asked, thrusting his finger into the small orifice, then twisting. The sound bubbled from her lips and he withdrew his finger quickly. "Don't waken," he spoke urgently. "Not yet-not just yet."
She forced herself to curb her moans. The dirty diddling slob! She sobbed to herself, as she felt his finger slide out of her anus.
"Irresistible," he said quietly. "That's you, Barbara, quite irresistible." And she felt him lower his head, press his mouth against her tender flesh, and kiss her beaten buttocks. He kept his head down, pressing it between the sensitive cheeks and mumbling words that she didn't understand at first.
"Barbara-ooooh, Barbara!" She listened, trying to decipher the sounds. His tongue moved wetly on the skin that she knew must be marked. "Barbara darling," he said, and she felt surprise that was more like shock. Darling! She wriggled herself, as though she were stirring in slumber.
His tongue traced its way up her body, sliding through the crevice of her bottom, up the rocky mountains of her spine until he reached her neck. He kissed the small, bare spot below her tousled hair. "You don't know it," he mumbled, kissing the back of her neck, "you can't hear it," he said, turning her head, then her whole body over until she was laying on her back. "I love you, Barbara darling, I love you!" And he kissed her lips, this time as though he were doing it for love, not lust. "I love you, Barbara-puss."
And he didn't sound as though he was mocking anyone when he called her Barbara-puss this time, she thought, letting his tongue slick onto hers with a warm, moisty devotion. At length, he drew back with a sigh, rolled himself off the bed.
Barbara took a chance, sneaked her eyes open a slit, stared at him. He was standing beside the bed, his hands hanging down and his penis swelling before his eyes. She looked at his face. He was staring at her body. His eyes were riveted on the triangle of pubic hairs and the abused slit at their base. His penis was getting bigger. He moved a hand onto it, curled long fingers about it.
He leaned forward, not looking at her face- not seeing that her eyes had opened more than a crack-and pushed his shaft towards her breasts. Barbara felt her nipples tensing, spontaneously. He touched each tip with the wet slit at the end of his penis-touched them, teased them, then drew back.
She saw his eyes moving and closed hers until she could only see the glimmer of his penis approaching her face. He touched her cheek with the tip. The head of his penis had swollen immensely. It was so close that Barbara could see small, mottled veins which seemed to pulse and throb and enlarge.
"I love you, Barbara," said Jerry, and his fingers started to move. She watched breathlessly as his hand slid up and down the massive shaft. He was pressing his pelvis forward, throwing his head back, and the organ in his hand was jerking and straining as though it was trying to escape from his grasp.
"Ohhh... take it!" he screamed, squeezing, sliding his fingers, then squirting a wet stream of spurts onto Barbara's face. The wetness hit her lovely lips, her eyes, her cheeks and her chin. Sighs of release sobbed from Jerry's mouth. Barbara opened an eye a fraction. Jerry was standing still, his eyes closed, and his penis was slowly sagging downward, with drops of goo trickling onto his thigh.
As she watched, he moved. He opened his eyes and reached to the bed, dragged up a sheet and covered Barbara's nakedness. His eyes flickered over the outline of her body. "Love you," he mouthed, then he uttered something soundlessly and turned, picked up his clothes, and, without bothering to don them, moved to the door. Before he put out the light and closed the door, he said it again, with sadness. "Barbara darling-lovely Barbara darling, I love you!"
Then he was gone, and it was a long, long time before Barbara could fall asleep.
Barbara pressed her head into her soft pillow, remembering it all, reliving it all. So long ago, and yet, so vivid. Jerry had been different during the last two days of his stay at the Bennett house.
"How's the shoulder?" Neil had asked during breakfast. His concern appeared genuine.
"Better," said Jerry, not stammering; then he had seemed to glance towards Barbara, sitting very still, very quiet, as he added: "It seems to have cured itself during the night."
And Barbara's head shot up.
"Good," said Neil, smiling, "nothing like a good night's sleep."
"No," said Jerry, eating his food with relish, "It seems to have done it good."
Barbara had felt her face flush angrily. The smug, dirty bastard! Then her anger had evaporated as she remembered his words: Love you, Barbara darling, love you. She pecked at her toast, wondering if anyone else had ever told her that he loved her. Wondering if she had to be drugged, passed out-or thought to be-before anyone could tell her something like that.
"I hope you'll be back with me," said Neil. "Keep that in mind, won't you, Jer?"
And Jerry had said that he would, while Harriette had smiled at him-as she never smiled at Barbara-and said, "It's been really nice having you, Jerry, really nice!"
"Thank you, Mrs. Bennett," Jerry had said. Then he added, looking at Barbara but speaking to Harriette: "I'll never forget you."
"I'll see you again," he'd said to Barbara, shortly before he left. His eyes had moved over her body, lingering on parts that she'd flaunted so brazenly, so teasingly, frustratingly-until he'd finally taken them and used them, abused them.
Barbara's eyes flickered to his hands. "You've got big hands," she said. Then she glanced up quickly to see if he'd blush; he didn't. "Long fingers," she'd added, and moved her glance from his hands to his crotch, "never still, always moving, fiddling." Then she'd lowered her voice so that Neil and Harriette wouldn't hear. "Diddling," she'd hissed.
He'd flushed then. She was very close to him, and it might have been accidental that a long finger protruded, touched the hem of Barbara's mini then pressed against her crotch. "Yeah," he'd breathed, "diddling," and his finger moved, causing wetness to flood Barbara's cunt.
Barbara squirmed herself deeper into the mattress of her bed. Would Jerry be changed? Just thinking of him had made her more awake. She hadn't forgotten the thing he'd done, but it had been buried in her mind. Her father's brief words had brought it all back. Did she want to see him again?
Barbara sat up in bed. She felt more like a drink than sleep. She pricked up her ears: the muffled sounds of sullen mumbling had long since ceased to drift to her ears from her parents' bedroom. The coast was clear, she could nip downstairs.
She slid out of bed, glided lightly downstairs and opened the liquor cabinet. As she poured a strong shot of vodka in a long, slim glass, she thought of Jerry again. Did she want him to be changed or the same? Then she'd wondered... Which was the real Jerry? The shy one-blushing Jerry-or the one who'd raped her? Which?
She ran upstairs on her toes, balancing the glass with the grace of a ballerina; then she closed and locked her bedroom door. Which Jerry did she want? Or did she want him? He even had two personalities, she thought to herself. Her father didn't know that, neither did her mother, but Barbara did. She swallowed her drink in a gulp. Took great draughts of air into her lungs, felt better. She'd know how she felt about him when he came back, she told herself as she climbed back into bed.
Barbara swallowed the tablet that was ready on her bedside table, closed her eyes, prepared for sleep. The contours of Barbara's face softened as she relaxed, and the last conscious thought she had before sleep completed its insidious invasion, was: Why did thinking of Jerry make her feel more sexy than thinking of Grant? A tiny sliver of moistness started to trickle as Barbara slept, and she squeezed her thighs together, tightly and fleshily, as if to stem the flow.
She dreamed that night.
In her dream, a multiple-faced man worked his lips feverishly over Barbara's pussy. Sometimes in the dream it was Jerry's face. Sometimes it was Vincent. And sometimes it was her father's face. One by one the face changed, as the dream man knelt at her side. Barbara turned over on her stomach with her body trembling and heart beating madly, and lay with her thighs slightly parted, her arms crossed in front of her face to provide a pillow.
The man took hold of the waistband of her panties and began to lower them over her buttocks, inch by inch they were peeled away from her cheeks, bringing the round white spheres into the dream's full vision. First Jerry studied them carefully. Then Vincent did. Her father looked longest of all, lowering his face until his eyes and lips were extremely close to his daughter's now naked ass. Soon a probing tongue-was it Jerry's?-began to tickle and lick that "honey" cunt. She felt her pussy begin to contract. Then it was Vincent-continuing to tongue her cunt, smiling into it and getting as much pleasure from it as Barbara was.
Her thighs were now widely spread and the tongue turned to her asshole and licked furiously at it.
Now she was sure-it was her father, sucking back at that cunt again, working the clit between his juicy lips. He sucked that honey pot slowly-as if he was relishing every moment of it. Then the vibrant hard tongue pulsed inside her pussy and crammed it completely.
He made the tongue quiver as fast as he could. His lips revolved also, keeping wet, wild, juicy movement around that tasty cunt always.
"You have to fuck me now," she heard her father's voice saying, and Barbara awoke and sat straight up in bed-still shaking from the orgasms that were wracking her body.