Chapter 2
Ruthie glanced at the dainty gold watch on her slender wrist and noted that she and Cheryl had only five minutes of their allotted bath-tune left. She twisted the bath brush lodged in Cheryl's cunt with a more feverish urgency so that Cheryl, too, might get her rocks off before they had to yield the tiled cubicle to another pair of girls. She was slightly disappointed-she had hoped that after she and Cheryl had had an orgasm apiece that they might try the famous 69 position, a favorite of Ruthie's. There just never seemed to be enough hours in the day, she pouted.
Ruthie knew that she wasn't gay. She, as were most of the girls, was only marking time until she graduated from the Jason Maxwell School for Girls, known "lovingly" to it's "inmates" as "Sing-Sing." There was less humor than venom in the title. In the meantime, there were a limited number of ways for healthy girls to appease their appetites.
Cheryl looked up from her sprawled position on the floor with slightly crossed eyes. Her head tossed back and forth on her neck like a wild animal seeking to escape from confinement. Ruthie reached down and gently, almost lovingly stroked the other girl's pussy as she fucked her with the bath brush. She heard Cheryl gasp.
"I'm cuming ... !" she announced in a hoarse whisper.
"Good," Ruthie said soothingly, rather detached from the scene by her annoyance. She left the brush alone, deep in Cheryl's hole. Cheryl tightened her stomach muscles and shot herself from one high to another. She had promised to teach Ruthie the trick, but had never done so. Of course, thought Ruthie, there were almost six months left until the pair became alumni of Maxwell. There was plenty of tune left before they would hit the streets free girls, able to concentrate on "straight" fucking, maybe professionally, in much the same ways (though with more dedication than ever before) that had gotten the pair sent to Maxwell in the first place.
"Pull it out," Cheryl gasped. She was still cuming. Ruthie grasped the bristly end of the brush firmly and drew it slowly out of Cheryl's misshapen hole. She found it difficult to budge in spite of the wetness that had formed a pool on the floor under her mate's crack, as her continuing orgasmic spasms sought to draw the brush deep inside her.
"Unh," Cheryl grunted and loosened her knotted abdomen, letting the sustained climax slip away. She was exhausted, Ruthie could see. Wordlessly, Ruthie crawled up and bent over her friend, then lowered her lips to Cheryl's. The pair met in a satisfied kiss of mutual thanks. Ruthie slipped her tongue into Cheryl's mouth and gently caressed the insides of her lips and the pockets of her cheeks. They held each other's eyes for a long moment. There was love in the gaze-until spring and Graduation.
"Let's get out of here before Miss Rexhaven starts snooping around," Ruthie suggested in a whisper. She was referring, she disgustingly framed the thought, to the tall, stoop-shouldered crone who was head mistress of the school, better known to her charges as DYKE I. It was only a guess, thought Ruthie glumly. If they could get the goods on the old whore, perhaps they could blackmail her ...
"Here's your towel," Cheryl said, breaking Ruthie's reverie. She handed Ruthie the coarse, cheap towel. She started to wrap it around herself, but decided against it. If the girls hadn't seen a cunt by now, Ruthie thought, they were long past-due. She looked over at Cheryl, noting that she draped the towel unconcernedly over her arm. She, apparently, had the same thought.
Of the two girls, Cheryl was the older by two years and the more domineering. She had run away from home at age 14 and earned a living soliciting on a busy thoroughfare in Houston before her recapture. She was a broad-beamed, busty girl with wide hips and a proportional ass split by a long crack, her cheeks spread exceptionally far apart. Her long, wavy hair was honey-blonde on her head, slightly darker between her legs and considerably more curly. Her most outstanding feature was her eyes, however. They were common brown but there was a hardness and cynicism in them uncharacteristic of a girl of 18. Ruthie, on the other hand, was short and petite all over. Her figure was willowy. Her breasts were small, rounded swells capped with chocolate and dotted with the freckles that could be found everywhere on her body. Her ass was smooth and round, the cheeks clenched tightly together and sprinkled with her characteristic freckles. Straight brown hair hung without a curl just past her shoulders and was wispy and unruly around her crack. Looking back, she reflected, she'd often felt insecure about her cunt-it's lack of accustomed bushy hair was a source of concern to her. Also, her actual pussy was rather large for a girl of her size and build; it seemed that her legs were placed further apart than most girls' to compensate. Maybe, she thought, she was just being oversensitive, but no matter what sort of trousers she was wearing it seemed as though she was wearing some garment under them to fill the crotch out, like an artificial penis. Oh, well ... as she paused at the bathroom door, her hand on the knob, she smiled. That was the way the old ball game went. She had a wide, bright, almost flawless smile of straightened teeth. Her eyes squinted when she grinned. They were green and placid-looking, not the eyes of a hooker. Her dotted nose, naturally upturned, seemed even more so when she smiled. Her overzealous Catholic parents had committed her to Maxwell after a family crisis over what they regarded as her excessive masturbatory practices ... what business of theirs it was in the first place had always eluded her. She snorted. Indiscreet, perhaps, but no more excessive than most teenagers. So she couldn't find a guy, or maybe she was simply scared of guys, thanks to her parents. They sent her to a prison, where she would be sure to learn sex from the most vicious and seamy perspective. They had guaranteed, if nothing else, that there would be plenty of guys for her when she got out.
The door swung open to reveal Pam Doubleday and Diane Pollard, already stripped and ready for their bath-day tryst. "Jesus Christ," said Diane without any real annoyance. "I was about ready to jump the doorknob, you guys were taking so long. Have a heart, will ya? I got rocks, too!" She paused and leered almost comically. "Tel me, Cheryl," she commanded matter-of-factiy. "Was It good?"
"Absolutely out of this world," Cheryl rejoined enthusiastically, if lecherously. She was playing her role in one of Diane's customary impromptu dirty dialogues.
Diane nodded knowingly then stage-whispered to Ruthie, "Why don't you leave this jerk and elope with me?" She indicated Cheryl.
"Meet you by the newel post at 10," Ruthie replied and the four naked girls laughed heartily.
"Seriously, though," said Pam, glancing at Diane. She was obviously telling a story she had heard from her bawdy mate. "This is Rexhaven's bowling night." Ruthie and Cheryl looked at the other two girls with astonishment "How did you find out?" asked Cheryl at last. Such information was hard to come by because it represented a "license to, kill", of sorts.
"I blew the office boy behind the bushes," Diane said. "He happened to mention it. What do you say we meet in the linen storeroom at 11 and have a few orgasms? Just the four of us, I swiped a key while Rexhaven was taking a shit."
The girls would never cease to be amazed at Diane's resourcefulness. "You bet!" said Cheryl at length, her voice laced with excitement.
"I'm game," Ruthie added in much the same tone.
Cheryl nodded. "Meet you there at 11," she said, then grinned. Her bawdy sense of humor was notorious. "I haven't had a double date in almost a year," she noted. The two couples laughed again and parted.
Ruthie overheard Diane addressing Pam as the door shut. "Let's try 176 from the Kama Sutra," she suggested. Ruthie wondered what sort of position that was. She made a mental note to ask.
She returned, refreshed from shower and cunnilingus, to the dingy sleeping-hall that reminded her of an old-tune hospital ward. The bedsteads were tarnished, barred brass, the walls devoid of decoration. The light was poor, but even in the daylight that managed, once in a great while, to seep into the room the walls were a nasty, aged shade of beige. In the dun light that came from the cheerless chain-suspended fixtures, they seemed even more oppressive. Eight girls shared the hall, though there was a ninth bed that was frequently occupied by the Gestapo district representative to Maxwell, Miss Rexhaven. She came in late some nights, and some not at all, but without a definite timetable so that the girls stayed more or less in line.
In the year, thereabouts, that most of the girls had been there, they had become divided into couples and doubles, though the girls were mutually friendly and oversexed. There was nothing wrong, they told themselves, with yielding to the needs of the moment-it was a transient circumstance, to be rectified by all their impending graduations the following spring-not all the girls in the school, of course, but all the girls in Ruthie's hall. They lived and loved for that tune.
Ruthie eyed her watch again as she sprawled on the bed to read. It was 10:30. Pam and Diane were really getting a raw deal, having to shower so late, but she wasn't at all sorry to see that there were only 30 minutes to go until Maxwell's version of a swinger's party began. She wondered how Diane had managed to steal a key ... Christ, she mentally swore. That wasn't the issue at all. The issue, she thought, parting her legs slightly, was that she needed to get fucked again. She .could feel her cunt throb as she tried to involve herself in her textbook. The damn thing seemed to have a mind of its own, making known its headstrong desires many times before in just that irresistible way, she remembered-at school, at dinner. She had been notorious on "the outside" for constant hurried trips to the ladies' room to touch herself. It ashamed her sometimes to recall how great a percentage of her lifetime had been spent in either sleep or masturbation or both at once. Her life had revolved around sex even before she had been sent to Maxwell. But only sometimes. Other times, like right now, she felt like a million dollars; very healthy. She lay the textbook down on the floor by her bed. None of the other girls, she ascertained, was paying any attention to her. Cheryl was convincingly involved in doing her physics, and the other girls in other types of homework, gossip or sleep. She sighed. Ruthie Jenkins Portnoy rides (herself) again, she thought-there was no chance of concentrating on homework. She rose from her recumbent position atop the bed, turned down the covers and climbed between the sheets.
Ahhhhhhh, she silently moaned as her practiced fingers reached into her crack. She swiped two fingertips through her hot, wet cunt. Her meager cunt-hair was running with her juices. She plunged a finger, of each hand into her vagina and wiggled them in and out of her tight hole. Technically, she thought, she was still a virgin. With her thumbs she kneaded her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her flesh. It was hard as a pebble, as it had been most of Ruthie's pubescent life. Without removing a hand from her cunt, she kneaded the hairy and bare skin around her protuberant cunt, hard, with the balls of her hands. That was so great! she thought blissfully. She might have hesitated to spur herself to a quick climax if she hadn't known that there were plenty more in her bottomless pit where the one she was presently fingering herself would come from, and the one that she had experienced under Cheryl's skilled tongue had come from. She knew that she would add to the spreading wet stain on her bottom sheet, but what the hell did she care? She hadn't asked to be locked up. She gasped suddenly and came, the warm rush of cunt-juice running over her palms and dripping onto the bed. That was about the 15th rush to go onto the bed that week, she recalled. She'd hate to have to do her own laundry.
Removing her hands, she looked at her watch again. 10:47. At the end of the hall she heard the latch snap back on the bathroom door, and moments later Pam and Diane padded nude into the communal bedroom. Diane stopped alongside Ruthie's bed.
"Feel better?" she asked. Ruthie's desperate Portnoy practices amused her. Ruthie wondered how Diane would like to be on the receiving end of the never-ending hornies. Ruthie theorized that Nature had scrambled her hormones a little-there was no reason for Diane to feel superior. Ruthie's problems were a pain in her ass sometimes. Not that she could really get mad at Diane.
"Considerably," she admitted, "but I saved one or two for tonight."
"Good," joked Diane. "I don't think you've ever eaten me before."
"No. I guess I'll lose that virginity tonight."
"You could," Diane speculated, "lose the other, too, if you play your cards right." Ruthie wondered what she meant. Maybe she had invited the office boy to their little get-together? She decided to take the evening as it "came," so refrained from asking.
"I can hardly wait," Ruthie said, looking up from the bed. She was beaming her childishly eager smile.
"You betcha, kid," Diane assured her huskily. In addition to sounding and thinking like Mae West, Ruthie noted, Diane rather looked like her. "Watch for Pam and I to slip down to the other end of the hall as soon as they kill the lights, then you and Cheryl come on down. Try not to make noise, even though everybody in the fucking hall knows what's going on ... they should eat their hearts out." Ruthie shot a glance directly across the room to where a naked Pam was telling a similarly-clothed Cheryl the same thing.
She nodded. "We'll see you there." She rolled over on her side and pretended to sleep.
At 11 p.m. exactly, all the lights in the hall went out. There was much grunting and groaning among those more concerned with studies than sex, of which there were none consistently, and in the hubbub Ruthie rose to her feet and slipped noiselessly toward the linen room, which was at the end of the sleeping-hall opposite that of the bathroom. In the gloom, she could make out the figures of Cheryl directly in front of her and those of Pam and Diane slipping down the cement floor directly ahead of her. If any of the other girls noticed them, they said nothing.
Ruthie could feel herself getting hot again. She sneaked up behind Cheryl and poked her between the buttocks.
"Goddamn," exclaimed Cheryl in a hoarse whisper. "I just about peed on the floor! Don't pull that shit, Ruthie, or we'll be broadcasting to the rest of the girls.
"Sorry," said Ruthie without a bit of sincerity.
It seemed like miles to the linen room. The two naked girls crept slowly and deliberately down the hallways. At least they were out of the barracks-like sleeping hall and could stand erect. The door to the oversized closet was ajar, Ruthie saw-Pam and Diane had beds that were closer to the proper end of the quarters and had the jump on them.
"Come on," a voice urged from the dark. The huskiness of it identified the speaker as Diane. As soon as Ruthie came within reaching distance of the door, two hands grabbed her budded breasts and pulled her into the open portal. The palms created more friction against her cocoa buttons than was actually necessary, a giveaway of Diane's lust. Looking over, she could see that Pam and Cheryl had cupped each other's cunts in greeting.
"Let's get cracking, girls," urged Diane as master-of-ceremonies. "The old witch'll be home by midnight sharp." She ceased her breast-play at last and reached her arms around Ruthie, stroking her ass. She reached the fingers between Ruthie's buttocks, searching for her tight asshole as the girls melted together in a searing soul-kiss. Almost like a guy, the two thought in unison. Ruthie broke the kiss at last and hefted one of Diane's ochre-tipped breasts in her hand as she crouched and took the point in her mouth.
"Ahhhhh!" moaned the subject of the oral exploration. Encouraged, Ruthie plunged two ringers, then three, then four into Diane's yawning crack and began fucking her rapidly. Diane came in a burst of oil as Ruthie climbed easily over the hump autonomously. Looking over, she saw Pam and Cheryl in a 69 position, gobbling for glory.
It was clear that Cheryl was about to cum, as Ruthie knew from experience, and it appeared that Pam was getting close. Arms around each other's waists, Ruthie and Diane waited for the two to finish. Within moments, the cunt-eating pair collapsed in a heap on the floor.
"Bravo!" Diane applauded in a hoarse whisper. "Author! Author!" Cheryl grinned sheepishly. Diane, however, prevented any lag in the activity.
She hurried to what appeared to be a pile of dirty linen, and, reaching beneath it, brought out a crudely made, powerful-looking sex device. Two hand-carved cocks faced each other off at a right angle, base to base, and there were straps made of old brassieres that Ruthie could have likened to a walk-over seat-good for either side.
She had seen a double-dildo only once before, and it had intrigued her that such mammoth organs would fit a girl's pussy, though she had heard of actual flesh and blood peckers of the same elephantine dimensions. She remembered Diane's remark on the possibility of her losing her physical virginity that night ...
"Got any ideas?" asked Diane, looking from one thoughtful face to another. She shrugged when they were silent, then squatted and played with herself briefly, lubing her crack. She took quantities of her over-abundant grease and smeared the wood of one cock with it, then plunged it into herself. Ruthie had to stifle a laugh.
"You look like my Dad on Saturday nights," she teased Diane.
"That's all right, Ruthie," Diane retorted good-naturedly, pointing to her protruding cunt-lips. "You look like my Grandma on Sunday." The four laughed quietly.
"Seriously, though," Diane began, shushing them, "I called you all together to check out my new position."
"What?" asked Cheryl.
"I want to see if my latest contribution to the sexual arts of the world works right before I try to copyright it," Diane explained, grinning. She shook the dildo menacingly at the cluster of girls. "Who wants helm position?"
Ruthie had decided that she didn't want to lose her virginity to a chunk of cellulose, so she remained silent. Cheryl opted for the broom-handle plugging.
"All right," said Diane. She gestured to the broad, deep, high shelves that had formerly held sheets and pillowcases, but which Diane had apparently cleared earlier. There were three of them-one at floor level, one at waist level, and one just slightly below Ruthie's eye level. From the top shelf to the ceiling was approximately 5 feet. "Ruthie, you climb on the top shelf." Ruthie obligingly climbed up and crouched on the plank, waiting. She knew that Diane's sexual inventions were great fun-she felt a trickle of warm oil on the inside of her leg. She was as game for this trick as for any other!
"Okay," Diane continued. "Cheryl, you get onto the second shelf." Diane's shuffling put Cheryl on the proper level with the dildo, and Ruthie began to see the light.
Diane saved her the trouble of figuring it out, though, as she explained. "Pam, you get on the top shelf with Ruthie. Now, Cheryl, put your ass on the edge of the shelf so that your hole is close and you can wrap your legs around my waist. Ruthie, you do likewise, and I'll eat your puss for you. Sound good?" Ruthie nodded. It did indeed! "Pam, you sit on Ruthie's face, and I know she'll be glad to return my favor. See, we can all get our rocks off together. Got it?" Three horny girls nodded in unison, then scrambled to assume their positions. That done, they waited for Diane to fill in her position. Ruthie heard Cheryl sigh as she took the wooden dick into her cunt, then felt ecstatically Diane's face make contact with her inflamed twat. "Go to it," Diane mumbled through a mouthful of wet pubis. Ruthie hoped that Diane hadn't bitten off more than she could chew, so to speak. She could feel Diane's moans of pleasure through her lips as she imagined the dildo banging around inside her slurping eater. It was going to take only a little while to take Ruthie over the crest, she knew-she had long since lost the patience to restrain herself for any length of tune. She gathered, however, that her notoriously quick climaxes might be an asset in the present case-from the frenzy of Diane's lip service, she feared that the evening's planner might climax and collapse before satisfying her two friends. She imagined that Pam might feel the same way through Ruthie's lips as the girl greedily ate Diane's mate. The cunt-juice was smearing her face and hair, she knew, but it was worth it; having and being had at the same time. With her hand she fucked Pam's asshole, netting bucking hips that almost suffocated her.
The climax was fantastic. It was, Ruthie noted, a far cry from the feeble orgasms she was accustomed to attaining by prodding her always-upstanding clit with a fingertip or two. She heard Cheryl cry out first, as she always did when she was about to cum, so she assumed that the ex-hooker arrived first. Soon after, Ruthie felt a rush of cunt-juice from Pam. Two down, two to go, she later remembered thinking, after her senses returned. Before the slippery, hairy pussy was lifted from her face, however, Ruthie went off in a shower of unaccustomed glorious stars. She trembled all over as Diane blew on her cunt. When she came down to earth, she saw Diane sitting on the floor, the dildo still deeply imbedded in her, looking at the world with glazed eyes. They refocused slowly, then she reverently reached down, unfastened the dildo, and slid it out of her gushing hole.
"First thing after graduation," she vowed slowly, "I'm gonna patent that!"