Chapter 3
We didn't know the meaning of agony on that day. It got worse as the days dragged by. Each night, big old Pietro, the scourge of the commune, took another of our beauties to his cot (my cot, actually) . When she came out of it, she was unfit for any of us. Or, to say it another way, we were unfit for her.
Mike, the poor soak from Michigan who had missed out on the big orgy and had only gotten to whack off while the rest of us were humping, took it the worst. And he was the first one to test Pietro's rule of abstinence. It came on the sixth day when we were all aching in the guts from lack of sex and being around half naked broads all the time and watching and listening to nightly escapades between Pietro and one of our women. Mike had been sneaking out behind the wooden toilets to beat himself off from time to time, but that was far from satisfactory.
On the sixth day, he came up to me in the corn field and said; "I can't take it anymore. I got Lila to go along with me and we're going to hump down in the cane patch. I want you to stand guard, Ron, and whistle if the big monster comes around. Okay?"
I said okay, although I was against it for two reasons. One, I didn't think I could stand watching somebody get his kicks and me being left out. Two, I had a plan to take the big Sicilian and I didn't want anything to upset the plan. It depended on his complete trust that we were abiding by his rules. As soon as he got soft and didn't watch us like a hawk, I was going to make my move. Wayne, the big fullback from Purdue, and Allan, the offensive tackle from Tennessee University, were my allies. The three of us should have no trouble. But there was this time-out now for Mike to get his jollies.
I stood at the top of a rise, above the cane field, and watched as Mike slipped between the rows. Lila, smiling and breasts bouncing lasciviously in the sun-light, came over the rise, spoke cheerily to me and joined Mike. I tried to keep watch for Pietro, but my eyes were naturally glued to what was going on in the cane field.
It is always fascinating to watch another couple make love, but it was especially good that day because I was getting pretty horny. I hadn't had a brush with sex since that morning in the Great-house when we had our impromptu orgy. And I had to watch the half naked girls and witness Pietro's nightly deflowering exercises. Why did the girls have to scream so loudly and thrash about so wildly when he made love to them? What did he have that we didn't have, except a slightly bigger penis? What did he do that we didn't do? What was his secret?
Anyway, I stood there watching while Lila took off her jeans and Mike stripped off all his clothes. I saw his white prick flip into the open and saw Lila go to her knees to take it into her mouth. I erected there on the rise, standing like a dummy with an idle hoe in my hands. My prick got real hard and pressed against the tight cloth of my jeans and I felt a little bead of moisture collect in my shorts. God, I was hot.
Then, Mike had Lila bent over and he was behind her. He spread her white buttocks and the pink head of his dick disappeared between them. Her hands shot down between her legs and grasped his hanging balls and Mike reared his head back and let out a silent howl. It was a damned good thing it was silent; big Pietro, the Sicilian motorcycle rider, was coming up the rise toward me. I took a few steps toward him, to keep him from coming to the top.
"Where's the jackass from Michigan?" he groused. "And that cute little piece from Kent State?"
"I saw them down in the potato patch a few minutes ago," I lied.
"Try again, jocko," he growled. "I just came from there."
"The peach orchard?"
"I didn't look there. You go down to the peach orchard and tell them I want them. I'll be in the sweet potato field."
I left, reluctantly, but I left. Poor Mike. He was over the rise humping away, unaware that danger lurked within eyeshot. Luckily, Pietro didn't go to the top of the rise. He followed me , down the hill and went off toward the tomato garden while I ran to the peach orchard. I circled around through the wheat field and came up through the woods to a place above the cane field.
They were finished and Lila was going over the rise with her jeans back on and her breasts swaying in the wind. Mike came up the hill, buttoning his fly and frowning. I caught up with him.
"How'd it go?"
"She said it wasn't so hot. She likes Pietro so much, she can't enjoy herself with another guy."
"What the hell does he do that we can't do?"
"She wouldn't tell me," he moaned. "She just said I would never understand because I'm just an inhibited little college boy. Jesus, Ron, we got to do something about that bastard."
Two days later, I tested Pietro's rule. I had to do something or go out of my mind. I caught Suzanne, the great little blonde from Dennison College, out past the peach orchard. She hadn't been to bed with Pietro yet and she was hotter than burning coals. It was duck soup.
"I'm on the schedule for tomorrow night," she said, giggling, "but I can't wait. The other girls say he's simply fab, but I've got a hot twat right now. Boy, am I glad I found you out here alone, Ron."
"The feeling is considerably mutual," I said as I stripped off her jeans and feasted my eyes on her flowering blonde pube.
We found a soft grassy spot and, remembering the delightful finale with Sofia on the cot that morning of the general orgy, I couldn't wait to get my tongue into her snatch. She lay back and spread her pink legs and I moved in on her.
She squealed when my lips touched her moist cunt and I shushed her. She couldn't help it. When my tongue darted into the juicy cunt and found her flowering little bud of a clitoris, she yelped so loudly that I thought everyone in the compound would come running.
"Knock it off, sweetheart," I whispered. "You want me to lose my nuts?"
"I can't help it, Ronnie. Oh please, suck me hard and then fuck me. I'm too hot to wait."
"Just keep down the vocals," I pleaded.
I went back to the sweet nest and parted her cunt lips with my fingers. I kissed the tender flesh and then licked up across her open snatch with the flat of my, tongue. She gave out a muffled roar and I probed deeply with my tongue. I licked the smooth walls of her cunt and found that she was flowing copiously in her hotness. She was ready for a screwing now. And so was I.
Without losing contact with my mouth, I shifted around on the soft grass so that my cock was directly above her face. She grasped my prick hungrily and I felt her soft, strong lips and her flashing tongue on the head of my cock. She sucked hungrily and I felt the powerful rise of climax building inside me.
I wanted to hold off, naturally, but Pietro had caused a radical change in everybody; we were all ready to come at the drop of a hat and I knew that some of the guys had shot off their loads just working beside the half naked girls in the fields.
Suzanne came first, ironically, but I wasn't far be-hind. We never did get around to switching positions. I dung to her fleshy buttocks and sucked harder and harder while my tongue probed the wet, musky interior of her snatch. On her part, she had half my dick buried in her mouth and, when I came, I knew the spunk was blasting against the back of her throat. She held on tightly and, above her low moans of pleasure, she sucked me dry.
We were coming out of the orchard when Pietro came down through the weeds and saw us.
"What have you two been doing?" he snarled.
"Playing jacks," I said, facetiously. We walked past him toward the cornfield before he had a chance to say anything else to us. To hell with him. I had it up to here with the big jerk and I was itching for a show down.
That night, Pietro changed his schedule and took Suzanne ahead of Kath, the brunette from Kansas U. The next day, I tried to get Suzanne back to the peach orchard.
"You're out of your tree," she said snappishly. "I know a good thing when I see it and I'm not doing anything to spoil my next time on the schedule with Pietro.
After thirteen days, he had gone through the lot of them. And not a one of our thirteen chicks would have anything to do with the rest of us. When they hadn't been with Pietro for a time, they might show a little interest and a guy could work a chick into a small lather, but the results were always the same; "Pietro is a hell of a lot better."
At the end of August, we were cut off completely from sex and we were half out of our minds. We moved into September and the real growling began. I was besieged time after time by angry guys who thought I, as the former boss of the group, should take the necessary action to get rid of the big Sicilian and his hog--forever.
And then the goddamnedest thing happened. On the fifteenth of September, a bright, warm, glowing day just before we were to start the harvest, old Pietro mustered us all in front of the Great-house and made this announcement: "I got to go into L. A. for a couple weeks. I don't want no sex here while I'm gone, understand. Any girl lays with a guy she gets cut out of the schedule for a month. Any guy forces a girl to make it with him gets what I promised . . . his balls removed. Got that?"
Without further ado, he put on his black jacket, his blazing red helmet and leaped on his hog. He kicked the starter and, amid an earthquake of noise, blasted off down the road and out of the valley.
We cheered. We screamed. We leaped about and acted like a bunch of jungle animals. That is, the men cheered and screamed and leaped about like a bunch of jungle animals. The broads sat on the wide wooden steps and frowned.
"Be gay," I yelled. "The sonofabitch is gone and we can get back to our normal way. Now, first off, we reinstate the rules of dress. Girls will wear blouses or sweatshirts, but no brassieres. We go back to our normal sexual activities, although I don't think an occasional orgy will hurt us. Then, we can . . .
The girls got up and went into the fields. They weren't even listening to me. It was a punishing day.
It was a worse night.
All up and down the Great-house, guys were trying to crawl into the sleeping bags of the girls. They were being turned away like an overflow from champion-ship heavyweight fight.
That did it.
I had all the lanterns lit and stood on my wooden footlocker at the end of the room, beside Sofia's for-bidden cot, and read the riot act to the broads.
"All right, broads, this is the riot act," I shouted. "The big Sicilian is gone. Things are back to normal. "You have to knock off the silly games and get down to business . . . and you know what kind of business I mean."
"Forget it," Sofia said. No, she didn't say it, she snarled it, just like Pietro snarled. Jesus, they were not only loyal to the bastard, they were getting more like him every day.
I ranted on for a half hour, but it was for no good. Half of them went to sleep during my tirade and the other half ignored me. I called a private meeting of the guys out in the yard.
"This is really serious," I said. "What do we do? Move the commune to another place?"
"We can't," said David, from West Virginia University. "We put all our money into the mortgage on this place."
"And the girls 'probably wouldn't go with us," opined Jimmy, the former recluse and hippie from Oberlin College.
"Maybe we should find another batch of broads," suggested Mark, from Dartmouth.
"I say we kill that big ass when he gets back," said Wayne, the tough fullback from Purdue.
"Won't do any good," Doug, from Cornell, said. "He's already spoiled the broads. We kill him and they'll leave us."
We argued half the night about what to do and did not come up with a solution. The next day was business as usual, working side by side with the girls in the fields, watching their beautiful suntanned breasts and dark nipples sway and mock us in the sunlight, watching firm, well-rounded buttocks flex in tight jeans, watching pretty eyes and pretty faces smile inwardly in memory of big Pietro, ignoring us.
The two weeks passed like somebody was slowly pushing a bullet into our skulls. On the morning Pietro was supposed to come, the broads all showered and powdered and primped and assembled in the yard and on the steps, naked to the waist, waiting for their hero. Lunch came and we ate in silence. Dinner came. The same.
Night came on and I heard a couple of girls sobbing and I knew we had to find out Pietro's secret. What in the hell did he have to get thirteen beautiful women into such a state? Christ, was he drugging them?
The following morning was a repeat performance. The girls were up at dawn and standing in line, naked, I might add, at the shower stall. We watched them shower and dry and preen themselves and there were thirteen raging erections on the steps of the Great-house.
The day passed slowly and the spirits of the girls sagged. Ours rose. We began to think we were maybe free of the big jerk for life. In time, our women would come back to us. Another day went, and an-other.
At the end of the third week, I assembled our group outside and gave the women the word; "All right, it's been three weeks and we've just about had all we can take."
"More than we can take," shouted Dan from Boston College.
"You bet," agreed Mark from Dartmouth and J. C. from Berkeley.
"Your big friend with the magic dinkus just came here for a bit of fun and frolic. He's probably off terrorizing another commune by now, so you might as well admit that he's never coming back."
The girls mumbled and looked at each other. They were morose, but we could see that they were weakening.
"I hereby declare this a national holiday," I shouted, erecting as I thought about what was to come. "No work. Just eating and orgying. Right?"
The men all echoed: "Right!"
The girls mumbled some more and, after looking off down the road for a few moments, they leaped up and shouted; "Right!"
I waded through the group to Sofia and she was so hot and ready, I thought she was going to come before she got her jeans off. We danced around the yard, naked bodies crashing against naked bodies. We sang and screamed and roared.
It was the best national holiday the nation had ever seen, only the nation never saw it.
We paired off and Mike was happy as a lark to have his sweet little Tonia back. I watched the others for only a bit, then devoted all my attentions to Sofia.
We didn't bother going into the house to a cot. We found a grassy spot in the yard between J. C. and Lila, and Ken and Allison. We were so close to them we could feel the heat generated by their bodies as they rolled around on the ground, soaking up a month of lost passion.
I made up my mind to make Sofia forget the big Sicilian once and for all. I was going to give her the humping of her life.
She lay on her back, her legs spread waiting for me to kneel and enter her.
I knelt and gazed down at her gaping, oozing cunt, knowing that she was hungry enough to enjoy my formerly inadequate attentions. She was in for a hell of a surprise. I had never indulged in the so-called perversions with her or with any of the girls. I mean, I had sucked them and fucked them, but I had never tried anything really different. Maybe that was my trouble. That could well be the trouble with all us guys--we were too parochial in our approach to sex.
I didn't know what Pietro did to them to make them lust for him so much, but I was damned well prepared to match him in one way or another.
I went about it in the conventional way at first. I nestled my cockhead at the wet mouth of her cunt and she reached down to hold my throbbing cock and balls.
"Push it in," she cried. "Push it in and fuck me, Ronnie. Oh god, I'm so hot I could fuck a gearshift."
I pushed and the head plopped into her juicy cunt. I stopped quivering like a virgin, with just the tip of my prick buried in her snatch. She wriggled and screamed.
"Don't stop. Give me all of it. Oh, baby, ram the damn thing home."
My fingers were at her crotch. I probed the juicy lips surrounding my swollen cock and then moved the fingers down to her tiny anus. She bolted and jerked and howled again.
I poked a finger into her and she screamed with pleasure and agony.
"I love it," she screamed. "Oh, Ronnie, I really love it! Fuck me while you finger me in the ass."
I'll fuck you, sweetheart, I thought, but not the way you think.
I withdrew my cock and leaned back with the hungry staff pointing toward the blue sky. Her hands reached out hungrily and grasped it. She sat up and took the head into her mouth, licking all the cunt juice from it. I let her enjoy that small diversion for a bit--and I enjoyed it, too. Then I pushed her back, twisted her to her stomach and brought her up to her knees.
"Good," she squealed. "I like it from behind."
Good, I thought. You're going to get it from be-hind.
I dabbled the head of my prick in her pussy for a bit, but ignored her pleadings for me to ram it in. I pressed in the head, wiggled it around too collect plenty of moisture and then came out again.
She screamed for me to put it back.
I didn't. I took a bead on her little anus, spread her buttocks as widely as I could and planted the hot head of my prick on that tiny pink spot.
Her body shivered and her hips wriggled from side to side.
"You wouldn't," she gasped.
"Oh; wouldn't I?"
I slipped the fingers of my right hand into her drooping, sopping cunt and she flexed her muscles to grip them tightly. I pushed all four fingers in as far as they would go and, bunching them together, began to revolve them. She screamed like a mad woman.
Then I began pushing with my hips. My cock was far too big for the virgin channel, but the moisture from her cunt helped and I pressed harder.
Sofia screamed and leaped about on the grass and I saw others looking up from their endeavors to watch. They saw what I was doing--and were impressed--but they were too busy with their own orgies to stop.
"Give it to her," J. C. roared. "Fuck her in the ass."
The chant went up; "Fuck her in the ass! Fuck her in the ass!"
While my fingers revolved and probed in her cunt, I moved forward and the head of my prick bolted through the sphincter and entered the soft cavern. Sofia screamed again, but I didn't let up. I moved onward, onward, and felt my shaft grinding tightly against her muscles. The head was pushing into the softness inside and I felt weird and uncontrollable stabs of ecstasy streaking up through my cock and into my loins.
I should have done this long ago.
When I was buried in her and her lovely ass was crushed against my groin, I felt as though I might come now and blow her halfway across the yard. I held her tight and listened to her low moans and small words of protest.
"Take it out, Ronnie, it hurts. Fuck me the regular way."
"Not on your life, babe," I said, imitating the gruff Sicilian. "You're going to get the fucking of your life."
Then I started.
I pulled out until the head was just barely buried in her little ass, then I rammed forward with a full head of steam. Our bodies slapped. At the same time, I twisted my fingers in her cunt and began to slide them in and out.
Sofia screamed for me to stop.
After three more plunges and several strokes with my hand in her cunt, she was screaming something else.
"Oh, do it, Ronnie, do it, do it, do it! Fuck me in the ass and make me come. Shoot your spunk into my guts, Ronnie. Oh Ronnie, baby, it's great, great, great!"
And it was.
I set up a ruthless rhythm and belted into her with loud squishing and slapping sounds. She grabbed handfuls of grass and hung on. Her body flashed back and forth on the grass, meeting my plunges, and her hanging tits swayed and jerked beneath her.
While my right hand finger-fucked her pussy, my left hand slipped up beneath her and grasped her hanging, swinging breasts. All the while, I was belting her with my hips and watching my cock move smoothly in and out of her ass.
"Harder," she screamed. "Make it come out in my throat!"
It felt like it would.
As I humped away in her stretched channel, my cock seemed to enlarge and lengthen. I felt as though I could ream her entire body with my prick and I tried to, Lord knows I tried to.
And then I came, long before I wanted to, but it was good and I was starved for sex. She came on my finger as my juices roared into her bowels and we both fell in a lifeless heap on the grass.
There were screams, squeals and moans from the others and I knew they weren't finished, but I didn't have the energy to raise my head and look. I lay with my face buried in her long, silken hair and felt her body throb and churn with the remaining passion of our act.
And then the world caved in.
"All right, you bastards, what the hell is going on?"
I raised my head and my fears were realized. Pietro sat in the yard on his big motorcycle. Behind him on the seat was a great, Amazon sized girl with jet black hair, large dark eyes and a set of breasts that were out of this world.
"There'll be the devil to pay for this," Pietro roared as he and the girl got off the motorcycle. "The very devil to pay. I'm gonna harvest me some nuts today."