Chapter 1
Everybody was doing it. Fifteen naked people in a group-grope, kissing, sucking... and the vibrators working all over. It was tremendous. Jane felt like she was literally coming all over, through every pore of her body! She couldn't bear to wait then, using the hard solid attachment on her own breasts while fingering her pussy. She could actually feel the sensation of the buzzing vibrator running over her full, ripe breasts, all around them, under them, on the sides, teasing herself until she was almost hysterical before using it on her swollen nipples... just barely touching at first, then bearing down until her breast quivered like a bowl of jelly and Jane Morrow was screaming with joy... and she couldn't keep still, squirming all over the bed and screaming... "oh fuck... fuck me... "
When she awoke from the torrid dream, she reached down under the covers and felt her pussy dripping. Still not completely out of sleep, she turned her face to the pillow, a face wracked with pain that hurt so good...
In her mind's eye, as she lay there, the vibrator was still on her nipples, even though the dream was over and little by little she was becoming wide awake. Her hand under the covers rotated, then the heel of that hand dug inside of her slurping vagina. She kept coming and she had to keep going faster and faster, doing more, moving more, imagining more so she could come some more. She punished herself by taking her hand away, and then she pinched her nipples until they were sore to the touch. She had to hold back a scream. She lay there and pictured a huge cock coming closer and closer, smiling at it as if it was really there, and the excitement inside her brain kept building and building. Her hand went back down to her crotch, picturing a fingernail as a tooth, and that tooth was nipping little bites at her clit while the warm flesh of her hand pressed at all the gooey mass of vaginal walls she could press it to. A finger jerked at her vaginal lips, making it redder. Then the clit between two fingers, jerking it all around! It hurt but she didn't care. Her tears, dropping on the pillow, were mixed with joy, and she wanted it to go on and on.
But it didn't. It never did. Her dreams always ended like that, with her trying to get her breath back, realizing where she was, in her own bed, a bed she had shared with Bill, her stale husband, a husband who barely touched her any more. Their marriage, which had started off so wildly, even frantically, had chilled suddenly in the face of the realities. And so Jane was left with these damned... wonderful! dreams. Jane's mouth turned up at the corner suddenly. "The realities" -- what a term to use for things as mundane as having to look at each other early in the morning, or having to plan evenings out when a sitter was available. And yet the term applied. The "realities" were there, and they had to be faced from day to day. And it was that the necessity of having to look at each other every single day -- which had sounded out the death knell for their marriage. At first, Jane had thought that the children would cement the marriage, would give them some basis in common. But the opposite effect had been achieved. Bill, normally a bit reticent, now turned to his work completely, and abandoned her to her task of taking care of the children.
And now here she was, a thirty-four-year-old house-wife, dreaming of the wild and free love that a teenager usually dreams of.
Jane dosed her eyes against the pillow. So much of her life seemed to balance out to -- zero. A safe, secure marriage... and no romance at all. Wonderful children -- and a father who was never around to get to know them. She had made his breakfast this morning, given him the usual peck on the cheek and sent him off to work. Then she had climbed back into the huge, lonely bed, planning just to dose her eyes and think. Instead she had fallen back to sleep. And then that dream again.
She got up, splashed water in her pretty face, and then walked down into her spacious living room, with its low-swept, modern furniture, soft sofa, and thick beige carpet.
"That does it," Jane announced to herself. "I've got to break this routine, or I'm finished."
The words sounded strange to her ears, and Jane could hardly believe she'd had the nerve to admit out loud what she'd been thinking and dreaming of, privately, for months. And, oddly, it was as though, by saying the words, Jane had freed herself of the last restraints upon her being. She was now open, come what might, to any opportunity for escape. Her "opportunity" was to present itself that very afternoon.
The way the boy in the coffee shop looked at her was flattering. No man or boy back in her section of San Francisco would ever look at her that way. But that is why I've driven down into this ghetto, isn't it?, she asked herself, sipping the coke. To be looked at that way! And how he was looking! He wore a black leather jacket, and couldn't have been more than seventeen, though a bit on the tough-looking side.
"Pass the sugar," he said, and their eyes met again. He didn't ask, he commanded. And strangely, that thrilled her too. He was staring at Jane's slim legs, her full tits, her tightly rounded ass sitting on the counter stool. She sipped the last of her drink. Silly, she thought, I'm old enough to be his mother. But his eyes! They never left her, and that, for some strange reason; had her breathing heavily. She paid her bill and walked to the door, playing lightly with the fantasy of an hour alone with him -- where no one else could see. She raised her arm to open the door, but his hand was on it first, his young, clear blue eyes staring into hers. He pointed to her car, parked at the curb.
"Your wheels?"
Jane couldn't speak, she just nodded her head. She felt her knees go weak.
"Now that's a righteous short!" he grinned, boyishly.
"A what?"
"It stokes me, dig?"
"Is that good or bad?" Jane asked, having a feeling there would be no turning back now.
"Why don't you invite me for a spin and find out?" he sneered.
Dumbly, weakly, she moved to the door of the car, turned awkwardly to see if he was still behind her. He was, his bulging-at-the-crotch jeans just a few inches behind her bouncing buttocks. He opened that door for her too, then skipped around to the passenger side. That door was locked, and Jane only paused for an instant before reaching over to snap the latch for him.
As she pulled away from the curb, she felt she had to say something, so she said, "My, you are quite bold, aren't you! I don't even know your name."
"Better that way. I don't know yours, you don't know mine. Isn't that the game you're playing? Rich lady down here for an afternoon of slumming. Ain't that what you rich dames call it? You think you're the only old married chick that jumps down here for an afternoon of fun?"
"I'm not rich and I'm not an old married... chick!" She knew her lip quivered as she said it.
"Turn left at the next corner. I know a place." He was grinning that boyish grin again, eyeing her slim legs, looking down at her gloved hands gripping the steering wheel, catching a glimpse of her soft inner thigh as her short skirt rode higher as she raised her leg to touch the brake.
"A place? A place for what?" But even as Jane said it, she could hardly wait to get him inside of her, feel his young, strong body working over her. She couldn't know that the boy sitting next to her was thinking, Something about these snotty old bitches, they all need the same thing. A good, hard young cock.
Jane felt glued to the leather car seat, where the now slushy warmth of her crotch mashed wetly underneath her. Ten minutes later, at his directions, the car swung off the highway and careened up a dusty road leading to a sheltered meadow near the county reservoir. Jane knew her short skirt had slipped even higher, giving his eager eyes a glimpse at her stained panties, at the tempting band of lily-white silk that stretched tightly over the mounding triangle that tapered down to her perfect thighs. As she stopped the motor, he leaned forward, placing a smooth hand on her bosom and pushing her back, making her lean hard back in the seat. His other hand yanked up her skirt in a quick motion, baring the junction of legs and the low-slung cradle of her panties. He jabbed with his forefinger, lewdly boring between her silken thighs with the digit until his fingertip was hooking up into the sodden squinching fabric that concealed her dampened bush.
"Son of a bitch!" he smiled, his lips close to her ear. "You're just running with it, ain'tcha? Got that pussy juice running right down your leg, eh, babe?"
"I beg your par... yieeee! What are you doing? No! Stop!" Jane sank away from his obscene exploration of her body, her ears burning at his words. She tried to worm away, but he quickly straddled her leg and pressed her deeper down in the seat. His lips came down on hers, and she felt herself going, melting, feeling his fumbling hands pulling off her panties, hooking his strong fingers in the flimsy waist-band and dragging them down, baring her creamy belly with its fine line of delicate hairs crawling between the dimple of her navel and the glossy, full bush of her protective pubic hair. The steering wheel was getting in the way, and he brought her to his side of the car. She stopped resisting, now, knowing he had worked her panties down over her ivory hips, as his eyes gleamed at the pelvic perimeter which framed her female treasure, knowing she was open and exposed to him.
When he had the soiled silk down to her knees, he moved his hand up between her thighs, skewering up with his finger, momentarily diddling the delightful thicket of her moistened crotch fur, and then jabbing up and back, sinking his finger between the puffy lips of her vulva, right into the warm mush of her shivering sex, pushing up to find the smaller ruffled inner hole of her cream-lined cunt, and in, past the second knuckle, until the boy had accomplished the finger-rape of her inviting, glassy channel.
Jane gasped at the sudden flow of new desire. flooding from her top to her bottom, flushing all other thoughts and principles away, telling her that finally she had found what she wanted, though he was just a dirty boy, savage in his ignorant way, but at the moment able to satisfy as Bill had not in years.
Jane stared down at his hand as it worked between her legs. The absolute brazenness of the finger digging inside her, revolving around and around, stroking the rim of her vaginal vortex with unbearable friction, delighted her to the very core of her being.
She looked into his young face at last, studying the knotted muscles of his almost-beardless jaw, the matted, unkempt hair which curled over his ears. She couldn't meet his eyes. They were too busy watching his own hand, feasting on the spectacle of his own fingers sullying her sensitive secret sex parts.
Jane gave a sigh and sagged a bit, closing her eyes as if to deny the guilt that lingered in her as the boy responded by thrusting his finger up farther into her hole, driving it in to the hilt, then rubbing his calloused palm against the jellying hair-lined fissure of her vulva with maddening sensual motions.
"Please don't stop, I beg you, don't stop! Ohhhh!" she groaned, baring her white teeth and tossing her head wildly against the back of the seat. She closed her thighs around his hand, desperate to keep the hardness of his finger within the itching, burning circlet of her orifice.
"Spread your legs, mama," he whispered in her ear.
He crooked his legs, angling under her, and when he rose up the blunt head of his member pushed against the heated damp of her genital gorge.
"Yes, yes, I can feel your cock. Come into me now, now!" Jane gurgled, saliva forming at the corner of her parted lips.
He let his prick skate up the creamy crack until, at a certain point, her outer fatty lips seemed to part for it, to pull at the rounded end.
"I can't stand the wait, oh put it in, pleeeese!"
He nudged up a little more, savoring the way his foreskin was swallowed right up between the soft slippery walls of the gulch her bending body presented to him. He pushed a little more and sighed with pleasure. Jane was moaning with joy as his thickness plunged into her time and time again, faster and faster, hotter and hotter, sending chills through her bowels, up her spine. His hands jerked the bunched blouse, swam up under the fabric, poking into the lacy cups of her bra, pushing the garment up and off her tender, rigid nippled breasts, then cupping them, squeezing them, taking them into his mouth and sucking on them like a baby, never once missing his up-and-down strokes that went thickly into her insides.
"My baby, my baby!" she murmurred into his ear. "Oh yes, yes, do it! Oh, it's delightful! So good, so good! Come, my baby, come with me, I'm going to come! Ohhh! Oh yessssss -- ahhhhh!"
It took a long time for Jane's thoughts to return to her husband Bill. She had dropped the boy off at a grubby clubhouse, and was halfway home by the time she even brought her mind back to reality. "Realities," she repeated, for the umpteenth time that day.