Chapter 6
The instant his shapely blonde deckhand dragged her slump-shouldered figure Ted Comfort recognized that something was the matter. Gone were the enticing bounce of firm young buttocks, the pert swing of her flaxen pigtails against the graceful curve of her proud neck, the vivacious grin which crinkled her cute little nose, the lilting, unconsciously provocative ring to her voice.
"Good morning," she mumbled when he greeted and approached her. Her melancholy brown eyes remained fixedly focused on the ten tiny white toes protruding from her sandals.
"Now, now, what's all this? You sure don't sound like you think it's a 'good' morning, sweetie. At your age you shouldn't have a hangover."
"Hangover?" Tracey echoed stupidly.
Funny, the successful entrepreneur reflected, how fond he'd grown of his pretty adolescent assistant-despite her overbearing mother. He shot her a penetrating glance, noting the deep circles beneath her oval eyes, the bruises on her sculpted legs which he'd certainly have noticed if they'd been there yesterday, and the rather wicked scar on her ivory-white neck which she'd inadequately attempted to hide with some sort of cosmetic cover-up cream. Looked like she'd had one hell of a hard night. . . the remarkable thing was that the shallowness of her skin beneath her healthy tan and her air of despondency made her look interestingly intriguing, fresh and pure in spite of her over-indulgence. The bloom of youth...
"Hey, honey, you sure look under the weather." Ted wrapped one arm around her bare shoulder in a fatherly fashion, chucking her under her chin and then rumpling her feather-soft golden curls. "Something bothering you? Usually helps to talk about these thing, y'know."
Was something bothering her? Tracey asked herself with a bitter, silent chuckle. That was putting it mildly. Physically, she was a wreck: every muscle in her battered body ached, she'd hardly slept a wink what with nightmares and agonizing over what she ought to do, and the last thing she'd eaten was the ice cream soda she'd shared with her boss yesterday afternoon. The mental burden of shame and worry which she had to bear all alone was even more distressing.
Obviously, she couldn't approach her mother. Mom would haul Rufus and Toby straight to court with all possible publicity, as a matter of Principle, and the sixteen year-old would rather have died than stand before a judge and jury and tell her sordid tale. What if the boys told how she'd acted like a whore during their vicious oral rape? No, no, a thousand times, no! She'd drown herself in Lake Michigan sooner than face that humiliation.
Since confiding in Mother was out of the question, Tracey'd decided she had no choice but to quit her job. Mom would get mad, of course, but she'd just have to dream up some sort of excuse. A summer of being nagged at was far preferable to a summer spent in close proximity to her rapists' leering mouths and bulging crotches.
"Nothing's bothering me," she lied, still staring down at her feet. "It's just that-that I have to tell you I'm qu-quitting."
"Quitting--? What on earth for?" Comfort pushed her face up, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Hey, honey, I know I treated you mean at first-gave you a lot of shit jobs, made you work too hard, maybe. But you said just yesterday it wasn't too much for you. And hell, if you can't handle the heavy work, I can always use help here in the office. This time of year, I never find time to get to the paperwork."
"No, no. I have to quit. Today!"
Good lord, what had got into the girl. She actually seemed terrified at the prospect of working for him, whereas yesterday he'd thought they got along fabulously.
"Look, I'm not saying that about helping in the showroom and office to be nice. I'm getting a lot more work than I'd expected this year, and Turetsky and
Bray are all brawn and no brain-can't expect them to do anything but manual labor. But you're a clever little gal, and you can do all different sorts of things." All this was true enough; it seemed unnecessary to mention that her physical charms were one of her more vital assets. "And I thought we were getting along real well. . . ? "
Tracey gulped back the tears which had started choking her throat at the mention of her two terrible co-workers, shrugging helplessly. In her concern with thinking of something to say to Mom, she'd neglected to consider that she'd have to give her nice boss some logical reason for quitting. Now, her head was whirling so wildly she just couldn't think of a thing to say.
"I-I do like you, Ted," she tried. "And it's a great job, too, but-b-but-"
Suddenly, almost as much to her own surprise as to his, she burst into a violent fit of sobs. His hand, which was still resting casually on her shoulder, circled her in a full embrace which allowed her tearful face to rest on his muscular shoulder, while his other hand gently stroked her baby-fine golden hair. Poor kid's really in a state, he thought, not yet admitting to himself that her pliant breast pushing against his chest was causing a suspicious swell in his trousers.
"I'm s-s-sorry," the blonde stuttered through her sobs. "I'm being a b-baby, but I just can't help it."
"Nothing to be sorry about, honey. Everyone needs a good cry sometimes."
The teenager threw him a look of gratitude, and gradually her eyes dried and her body stopped shuddering. Mr. Comfort sure was a great guy, she thought, and she felt better just being beside him. Once again, she reflected how much he was like her favority Uncle.
"C'mon, Tracey," said the middle-aged man, guiding her limp form back into the storeroom and easing her down on a folding cot, part of as as-yet unassembled window display. "Sit down and I'll get you some kleenex and a glass of water. And then I want you to tell me what's the trouble. Keeping problems bottled up inside only makes them worse, you know."
Kind Mr. Comfort returned, sat down close beside her, and started wiping away her tears. Soon there was a tremulous smile on the girl's pretty face-this was the sort of sympathetic concern she'd always imagined a father would provide. Somehow, before she knew what she was saying, the whole disgusting story had burst from her lips in full, incriminating detail.
". . . And the worst of it all's that-that I keep thinking about, keep seeing their things, keep feeling so f-funny inside. Oh, Ted, I just know I must be going crazy!"
Comfort's first impulse was rage, an inclination to rush out onto the dock and smash in the faces of those two punks. However, reason told him he'd deal with them better when he was cool and controlled and could really frighten them; besides, the cuddlesome creature snuggling against him needed his help right now. Obviously she was all mixed-up about sex, and he understood quite well that she couldn't possibly discuss things with her militant Womens' Lib mother.
"Now, honey, just calm down. Of course you're not going crazy-you're just feeling like any normal little girl would after an ugly thing like that." He pushed damp strands of golden curls off her flushed forehead and gave her a playfully tender kiss. "Don't worry about Toby and Rufus-I'm gonna fix 'em so they won't so much as look at you again, and you'll never be working with them alone. I'll look after you, sweetie."
"Oh, th-thank you, Ted. 'Cause I was so worried about what I'd say to Mom about quitting, and-"
"Sure, sure, I understand. I'm real pleased to help you out, Tracey. You're an awfully nice girl, and you can come to me with any problems, anytime, okay? like I was your daddy..."
She gave him a warm hug. "Gee, I'm a hundred million times happier than I was when I walked in here! But-but, I'm still worried about. . . "
Her voice trailed away in embarrassment. ". . . about acting like a whore," she'd been about to say, but after the initial hysterical outburst she was once again hesitant to talk about such forbidden things. Nice as Ted was, she really shouldn't have said all that she had. Why, she'd even admitted that she'd felt frustrated because she hadn't had an orgasm. He must think she was an incorrigible nymphomaniac!
"About what, baby?"
". . . about behaving like a slut," she whispered miserably. "I don't think I ever want to be with a boy again, after that."
"Nonsense! Listen here, it's a drag that you learned about sex from those two morons, but you did learn something that's good. You're a very female young woman, honey, and of course you get pleasure from your body. When you find the right man, you'll learn that sex is beautiful, not ugly."
"When she finds the right man..." His own words rang in his ears as he took a good look at the teenager in his arms. Last night he'd not had a date and had sat home sullenly drinking bourbon and watching television-an old movie called Lolita. The cute blonde could practically be the double of the star of the film...
"The right man..." Who, he asked himself with a quick glance down to his bulging groin, was a better man than Ted Comfort. He knew everything there was to know about dames, had deflowered at least ten virgins in his travels around the globe, and was sincerely fond of her so that he'd treat her with the necessary gentle consideration. Yep, he decided, he was elected.
And what a fantastic way of getting even with her snotty, tight-assed bitch of a mother!
Already, his husky suntanned arm was draped around her so that his fingers were nearly touching the ripe grapefruit mound of her budding breast. Squeezing her warm body a bit nearer to him permitted his middle finger to trace very gently around it from base to nipple in concentric circles. Then he opened his palm to tenderly cup the resilient flesh.
"Oohhh!" gasped Tracey, and blushed a furious shade of scarlet. "Wh-what-"
Ted laughed softly as he gave the breast a light squeeze. Since she wore only a flimsy sundress and no brassiere, it was almost like touching her naked skin.
"Don't worry, darling. I'm just showing you that it can feel good to have a man feel your breasts."
The teenager's body relaxed again. "You know, Ted," she said trustingly to her newfound father-substitute, "in a way I liked the mean way they pawed my breasts more than when my boyfriend touched them. That's why I think I'm sick! Rufus bit my nipple so hard it was bleeding, though ... and then it wasn't so good anymore ... but it was nice when they kinda pinched hard..."
Ted pinched her already pertly erected nipple hard, and she let out a sort of giggling gasp. "Ooohhh! Yeah, like that! Oh, you must think I'm just awful!"
"No, honey, not one bit awful. You're a very feminine, sensual person, that's all. And that's a great thing to be! The reason you felt like that's just because your boyfriend doesn't know much about pleasing a woman yet-and you've got a woman's body already, you know. Best thing that can happen to a growing girl is to learn about love from an older man who knows what the hell it's all about. like those South Sea Island tribes where the custom is that the uncle's in charge of the sex education department."
Tracey figured it probably wasn't right for her to be letting a man old enough to be her dad stimulate her breasts, that her mother would be horrified. However, she was a little tired of always trying to do what Mother thought was best, and Ted's hands felt wonderful.
"That's funny," she answered him. "Y'know, it was my uncle who told me about how people make love, when we were watching the dogs mate. And he told me real nice, too, lots better than the book Mom gave me for Christmas last year. I mean, the book made sex sound like doing exercises in gym class ... but Uncle Norm made sex sound like fun. He was a lot like you, Uncle Norm. I've sure missed him since he moved out West."
"Norm Aronson? Yeah, I knew him when we were kids. Good guy-we used to get in all kinds of trouble together!"
His hands were on both her breasts now, and thrills of delicious erotic excitement were slithering through the girl's bloodstream. As she sensed her panties' crotch band dampening, she squirmed a little on the cot and blushed again. Ted watched her, remembering how similarly her mother had acted at the same age and wondering what had turned Denise Aronson into a man-hater. Well, he was going to make sure that her daughter didn't suffer the same sterile fate, that was the important thing at the moment.
"It's funny how weird I feel all over when you touch my breasts," confided the pink-cheeked schoolgirl. "And what's even funnier is that I can talk to you about stuff like that. I never even do much with my girl friends ... but with you I feel so-so free."
"Good!" Ted kissed her again, still paternally but a bit more erotically than before. "Now, Tracey, you say that damn fool Rufus hurt your nipple? I think I better take a look and make sure he didn't do any serious damage. Jeez, I could kill those two for what they did to you!"
A curiously pleasant shiver coursed through the teenager's ripe loins at the idea of exposing her breasts to Ted Comfort. It was somewhat the same sensation she felt when she had to go to the doctor's, but much, much stronger. "Well, if you think so..." she murmured.
Her skimpy green sundress was cut high in front, plunged low in back, and fastened with a tie round her graceful neck; it took half a second to peel it down to her neatly nipped-in waist. Sure enough, there was a vicious black and blue bruise on the tip of her left breast, and purplish fingerprints on both proudly high-set mounds. Ted's cock lurched in lascivious excitement as he bent to kiss the blemishes.
"Poor kid," he soothed. "There, this'll make you forget all that nasty business."
"That's what Uncle Norm used to do when I fell down and skinned my knee or something..."
"Where else did those apes hurt you, sweetheart?" Ted, with an expertise born of much practice, peeled the little green garment all the way off before she realized what he was doing. Then he rose and carefully shut and locked the storeroom door. "Don't want
Turetsky and Bray snooping around while we're-uh, examining you, that's for sure. Now, just lean back. . . that's a girl..."
Feeling extremely shy and praying he'd not noticed the wet patch on her pink lace panty crotch, Tracey did as she was told. She shut her eyes as dizzy waves of delight surged through her virginal figure in response to his teasing, testing fingers on her belly and thighs. When she opened them again a minute later, her pink panties had somehow vanished from her body and were neatly folded, along with her dress, on top of a nearby stack of old Yachting magazines.
"You've got a truly beautiful body, Tracey, you know that?" his voice was low, husky as his fingers tangled in the silken golden-brown curls of her pubic "vee". "A body made for love, with those long Scandinavian legs and these perfect breasts and this delicious pussy. And one of the roundest, tightest asses I've seen in many a day. But just look at the ugly marks those animals left on your lovely thighs!"
Gentle but insistent hands pushed apart her unresisting upper legs, and the teenager let out a weak whimper as he traced a finger along the damp slit of her vagina! God! She thought wildly, I feel like I'm on fire. like last night, only better 'cause this isn't vulgar and smutty. I almost wish he'd kiss me down there like horrible Toby did...
As if he'd read her secret thoughts, the older man bent down to bury his sandy-blonde head in the "vee" formed by her splayed-apart thighs. Suddenly she noticed the huge protrusion inside his tight white-duck pants, and such a strong wave of excitation swept through her that she whimpered again.
"There!" Ted Comfort's hypnotic voice echoed in her ears. "I'm kissing your wonderful little cunt, and now you know that it's a good thing to do. Honey, I want to help you. I want to teach you about how sex should be-loving, tender sex without any anger or fear or ugliness. Let me show you how you can use your marvelous body like a real woman, okay?. "
"I-I don't know, Ted. You make me feel so good, but-but is it right?"
"One thing you'll learn as you get older, my dear, is that 'right' and 'wrong' are something you have to define for yourself."
Generally, the adolescent resented any sort of advice which began with, "when you're older. . . , " but Mr. Comfort's words seemed wise and meaningful rather than condescending. Maybe she did accept the dictums of her mother and teachers and boring people like Robbie and Clara Pringle too much at face value. It was high time she began thinking for herself!
"My motto," continued Comfort, "is, 'If it feels good, do it!'. So long's you don't hurt anyone, that is. And there's exactly where those thick-skulled louts who attacked you last night were off-base. Sweetheart, your pretty pussy's all wet and willing. You know, that's your body's way of telling you it needs some good love-making."
"Maybe," the naive high school girl faltered. "But ... but ... oohhhh..."
A talented tongue slid into her secretion-seeped passage, putting an abrupt end to her unpersuasive protests, then rose to titillate her instantaneously throbbing clitoral nerve center. Oh, good God, I'm going to go crazy! Her mind reeled as she stared at his hands massaging her bruised, fire-filled breasts. They were huge hands, at least twice as long and broad as her own, with short, clean nails and skin that was as deep brown from years in the sun and covered with sparse white-golden hairs ... masterful hands which handled her sensitive body as expertly as they dealt with the motors and machinery of sailing yachts, teasing and stroking until she was nothing but a helpless mass of quivering desire.
"What's wrong, honey? Aren't I making you feel good?"
"Oh, Ted, you know you are!" she burst out impulsively. "I'm in seventh heaven! But the trouble's that it feels so fantastic I don't want you to stop. I'm scared I'll get carried away and..."
Her voice trailed off into a sybarite's sigh of out-of-control sensuality as he played another Houdini trick and shed his pants before she could blink twice. His underpants-not the baggy white cotton kind which Robbie's mom ordered by mail from Sears Roebuck, but sexy black nylon ones like swim trunks which emphasized his huge hard-on-vanished next. Her boss was as naked as she was now!
Ted smiled as the young girl's big brown eyes filled with excitement and alarm. He resumed his position beside her slumped-back figure, resting his rock-hard length on her trembling upper thigh.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. We won't go any further than you want to-I just want you to see what a nice thing a man's penis is. Bet you never had a real good look and feel, right?"
"Well," Tracey was again astonished at her utter lack of shyness, "Robbie showed me his once, but it wasn't nearly so big as yours, and besides it was dark. Before I really got that much time to see it or anything, he came, all over my legs. Wow, was I ever embarrassed."
With an effort Comfort refrained at laughing at her girlish innocence. "You don't need to be embarrassed with me. And I promise I won't cum; unless it's inside your lovely little pussy, and that's your decision to make. Part of growing up's learning to choose for yourself, and once you've decided you want to be a real woman at last, then you'll be ready for love-making."
This twisted logic sounded very sensible to the confused adolescent. Feeling secure in the knowledge that nice Mr. Comfort wasn't going to rape her like those two creeps on the beach last night, she began caressing his mammoth reddish flesh rod from its velvety balls to the glans on its burgeoning head. A rash of goose pimples prickled on her naked flesh as the enormous penis jerked and swelled beneath her teasing, stroking touches and a droplet of fluid seeped from its seminal slit. Just like Toby's and Rufus' excited cocks ... except now it was thrilling instead of frightening. So thrilling that she bent her head to kiss its slick smoothness.
"You want to kiss my cock, honey?" Ted asked gently his fingers still busily at work on her vagina and breasts. "Is that what you want? Or is is something else ... ? "
Tracey was astounded at her reply, for she didn't realize that she'd unconsciously made her decision back when he first touched her pussy. "I-I want you to make me a woman, Ted," she whispered. "I'd rather you were the first, honest! You're much more exciting than any of the guys I know at High, and most of all, I really trust you."
"Tracey, you're a helluva lot more of a woman than most grown-up females I know." he kissed her full on the lips. "I'm 'fraid this is going to hurt a little at first, but I promise I'll do my best to make your first time a day you'll never forget. Now, lie down and put this cushion under your sweet ass."
Thank God the little girl was already very turned on and lengthy foreplay would be unnecessary, Comfort's mind whirled as he eased a boat cushion beneath her silken-fleshed little buttocks and stared at the fresh pinkness of her upraised virgin vagina. This was the most extraordinary thing that had happened to him since returning to live in Michigan, and his impatient phallus was throbbing with furious lust the way it had back in his own high school days. For a fleeting moment he compared the daughter's eager acceptance of her own sexuality with her mother's rigid morality ... times sure had changed, and for the better as far as he was concerned, at least in this aspect. Who needed all that hypocritical Puritan crap? On the other hand, it was getting harder and harder for a guy to make it independently by sheer force of will and character. He'd made it to the point where, at thirty-eight, he was a financial success and doing work he liked, had traveled the world over while learning a trade while working instead of rotting in a dusty college classroom for some of the best years of his youth and then slowly atrophying in some servile junior executive job: but he was an exception, and he knew it. Nearly all his former classmates were pot-bellied and balding, their balls broken under the burdens of nagging wives and bosses, mortgages and ulcers-whereas he felt every bit as virile as the day he'd run away to sea, or the night he'd put the make on shapely Denise Aronson.
The craziest thing of all was that, had his seduction been successful, this little girl offering up her beautiful body like a vestal virgin on a pagan altar might well have been his own child. HIS OWN DAUGHTER!
The thought might have been a sobering one if he hadn't already been burning with passion: as it was, obscure visions of incest only fires the flames of his lust. Maybe he was crazy-certainly nine-tenths of the folks in this neck of the woods would think so-but just because he'd moved back here temporarily since it was the easiest and most lucrative spot to establish himself and win a name in yachting circles, didn't mean he was under any obligation to accept Birch Bay's outdated ideas about right and wrong. He believed in following his own code, just as he'd told little Tracey, and she was giving herself to him of her own free will.
Enough of this stupid thinking! He told himself as his proud penis gave an impatient thud. Time for business!
"Now, baby," he said, kissing her again, a deep, tongue-twirling kiss that caused her to moan. "I want you to relax. Just let every muscle in your sweet, sexy body feel loose and easy."
As he spoke, he was finger-fucking her, circling her erect clitoris with soft, insistent and slightly irregular pressure as her moans rose to a steady mewl of longing and the fear faded from her long-lashed eyes. She was ready! Pulse quickening to a tumultuous tempo, he slicked back his thick foreskin and began rubbing his wetly glistening cockhead against her equally damp cuntal orifice.
"Ohhhhh ... aahhhhh! That feels fabulous, T-Ted, but it looks so big. How's it ever going to fit inside me without ripping me to pieces?"
"Honey, men have been fucking women for millions of years now and there was always a first time. Don't worry! That cute cunt of yours was built by a master-designer who knew his job. Remember, an eight-pound baby comes out of the sweet little hole." Suddenly he stiffened, an icy alarm overwhelming his desire. "Hey, do you take the pill?"
Fucking a girl young enough to be his daughter was one thing; an illegitimate baby with a sixteen year-old mother and militantly malicious grandmother was quite another story. Beads of perspiration broke out on the burly boatyard owner's forehead. Of course, he could always pull out before he came, but that sure would spoil the fun.
An oddly mature, husky laugh spilled out of the quivering corners of Tracey Aronson's parted lips. "Sure! Because my periods weren't coming on time. See, I'm not so dumb as you think!"
"Sweetheart, I never thought you were stupid. Not for a minute."
As a vigorous flood of relief shot through the older man, his penis swelled larger than ever and he unintentionally flicked his powerful hips forward, driving the mushroom-shaped tip a couple inches into her suddenly cringing cuntal channel. His throbbing thickness slid in easily enough, thanks to her copious feminine secretions, but her sharp gasp of pain told him that her inexperienced vaginal muscles were too suddenly spread. Gritting his teeth, Comfort forced himself to go slowly, steadily, gently. After all, this wouldn't be a true success unless he got the innocent schoolgirl so turned on that she craved sex for the rest of her life.
"Relax, relax," his hoarse voice crooned. "Once I'm in, it'll be marvelous. Promise!"
Tracey was also clenching her teeth together to keep from crying out in pain. He was so very big, that was the trouble. Or else she was built all wrong, deformed, unable to accept a man like the millions of women he'd mentioned before. Tears pricked in the corners of her wide-open eyes as she stared, mesmerized, at the salacious spectacle of his huge, steel-hard spear inching into her infinitesimal orifice, but no matter how much it hurt, she vowed to bear it without crying like a silly baby. If intercourse was going to be such a grueling ordeal as it promised at the moment, she was far better off with kindly Mr. Comfort than with some dumb kid like Robbie who'd probably injure her in a shameful way ... and she'd no intention to remain a dried-up prune of an old-maid, or a man-hater like Mom, no matter how bad the first time might be.
"I'm tr-trying, Ted," she whimpered. "Oooohhhh, that helps. When you touch me like that, I don't think about the-the other feeling so much."
"That's my brave girl!"
He stepped up his strumming motions on her crazily twitching clitoris as he forced his way deeper into her tight passage, remarking with relish how his manipulations loosened her involuntarily resisting vaginal muscles. Already, he'd plunged all the way down to the thin membrane of her mainden head, and she was liberally lubricated with dewdrops of desire.
"Keep those hips up, and keep those muscles relaxed," he commanded, kissing her lips and neck. "This is gonna be bad for a minute, but once it's over it'll be heaven. Believe me!"
Tracey believed him, but she couldn't keep her cuntal muscles from tightening up anyway. As his hips shot forward and his unbelievably enormous thing crashed down, through the protective sheath protecting her purity, there was such a flashing stab of agony that she thought she was dying, and the elegant stateroom was filled with shrill shrieks of anguish. Even if he didn't kill her, she'd certainly never be able to walk again!
"Aarrgghh! Oh, stop, STOP!"
The pain continued unabated as he continued to push down until the full length of his punishing pole was buried inside her and his sperm-bloated balls were bouncing against the bottom of her buttocks. Barbed darts of suffering shot from her severed hymen to every nerve ending in her quivering young body, but somehow she managed to stop screaming. It wasn't Ted's fault-he'd never have done this if he'd known what dire pain his penis would inflict. No, she must just be built wrong...
Comfort felt his proud penis piercing her maidenhead and gloried in the primitive rush of power and ultimate manhood which always followed his defloration of a virgin. Then, exerting the superb self-control which was the fruit of a rich and varied sex life, he held his impatient penis still inside her deliciously squeezing vaginal passage so the teenager would have a chance to adjust to its immense bulk.
"Now you're a woman, Tracey," he murmured, and was pleased to see that almost at once her expression altered from anguish to awe.
Indeed, the symbolic significance of the torn, tissue-thin little membrane moved the sensitive sixteen year-old so deeply that she forgot the pain in her impaled pussy. She was truly alive at last-alive and engaged in the age-old act of love-making which had united male and female since the dawn of history. Ted had been right, after all: sex wasn't dirty or sinful-it was the most wonderful thing in life.
"Oh, wow..."
"And now," he whispered, kneading her breasts, kissing her perspiration-dewed face, finally moving one hand down to softly massage her clitoris again, "now you're going to learn how to fuck."
Groaning under his breath from the exquisite tightness of her no-longer-innocent vagina, the middle-aged man began moving his massive member almost all the way out, then back down to the hilt. At first his movements were slow, careful, but as her breath quickened and he felt her fear-tensed inner walls relaxing somewhat he stepped up the pace to a rapid-fire rhythm that shook the mattress of the king-sized stateroom bed. "Oh! Ohhh, Ted! Ooohhhh."
"Stopped hurting, like I said it would? Is it better now, sweetheart?"
"It still h-hurts a little, but it hurts good," Tracey gasped out. "I ... I feel all tingly and excited and ... ooohhhh!"
"Yeah, that's the way! Move your sweet little ass, too! Jesus, honey, you have one of the greatest pussies I've ever felt-you're so tight and smooth you're driving me crazy!"
Tracey glowed at the praise and churned her hips up to meet the pistoning penis with vigorous enthusiasm. This wise and experienced older man liked the way she was making love! He considered her a real grown-up female-and she felt like one, too, the way her body was starting to sing with vibrating chords of pre-orgasmic ecstasy. Pleasing a man was, she decided before drifting into a mindless frenzy of sensuality, was obviously her true vocation. Every woman's true vocation, perhaps, which explained why her mateless mother was often bitter and moody and kept channeling her pent-up energies into causes.
I bet if Mom married a guy like Ted Comfort, was her last coherent thought, she'd be much happier, and much easier to live with, too.
Then, as purely physical sensations took control of her curvaceous body, the teenager forgot all her problems. Puzzling parents, unwanted going-steady rings, snubs from "in crowd" classmates, sex-crazed coworkers and the dim rumblings from her guilty conscience played no part in this wild universe of lust and flesh. Nothing existed now except belly smacking against sweat-slickened belly as a male and a female writhed on the soft furry coverlet in the motor cruiser's stateroom, and this magnificent man's iron-hard penis thrusting into her love-starved cunt and flooding her with undreamed-of delight.
"God, baby, you're fantastic!" groaned the feverishly bucking man above her. He'd abandoned his initial efforts to treat her gently, for by now it was apparent that Tracey's innocent exterior had been ripped asunder to reveal a wild wanton who yearned to be fucked with all the savage strength of his powerful loins.
It was really hard to believe that this ardently responsive blonde was the same naive, shy virgin who'd stood staring in shame at the floor only twenty minutes ago. She'd given herself up to lust now, flailing out her sculpted legs around his furiously pounding cock to kick up in the air and hammer her smooth heels into his back as though spurring on a horse. Through the tousled golden strands of her hair, he caught fleeting glimpses of a contorted mask of abandoned passion, and a lewd chorus of mewls and moans spilled from between her slackly parted pink lips.
Christ Almighty! She looked as though she were already on the brink of climax! Comfort had initiated a good handful of virgins into the joys of sex, but this was the first one who'd turned-on like a seasoned whore. It was incredible!
"Tell me when you're ready to cum, baby!" he rasped, thrusting deeper and harder than ever to speed her toward release. Her wanton arousal had excited him so much that his cock felt ready to explode at any second.
" Oohhh, good! Hard, harder, like that!" Tracey babbled. "Gonna cum soon ... sooooooon! Aahhhhh!"
The aroused adolescent felt her body rushing toward orgasm,-like an out-of-control car speeding around dangerous curves on some treacherous mountain road, but she wasn't afraid. She strained her body, striving with all her might for the violent explosion of ultimate release. Another two or three strokes of his deep-driving ramrod, and she'd be there!
"Ohohoh ... oh, Ted, I'm CUMMING!"
For a second everything went black, and then suddenly fountains of stars burst before her glazed eyes and her weightless body was rising with them into a new universe of pure sensual bliss. Low whimpers of ecstasy burbled from her lips, and her whole body spasmed and jerked around the pleasure-giving pole still spearing ruthlessly into her quivering vagina.
It felt to Comfort as though the little girl's convulsing cuntal walls were milking his potent penis, and within seconds he was groaning out his own release as the first hot jets of sperm shot from his blood-engorged balls into her never-before filled belly. "Goddamn!" he groaned. "Cuuummmmmming inside you, sweetie!"
She'd just surfaced from the exquisite unconsciousness of her first orgasm when the heated drops of male cum started splashing against her sensitive cuntal channel. He was filling her with his life-giving seed! she thought in a delirium of delight, and she wanted to drown in this erotic sea of hot, sticky sperm. Suddenly her lush loins exploded into a second orgasm, then a third, till she was almost insane from the sheer spasms of joy and collapsed limply on the bunk in a state of ecstatic satiation.
For what seemed a long while, the thirty-eight year-old bachelor lay entwined around her sex-flushed figure, panting hoarsely as he sought to regain breath after the wondrously skyrocketing orgasm. Half-asleep, with her pink lips slightly parted and her yellow curls spread over the pillow, her face had all the purity and innocence of a little girl playing the part of an angel in a Christmas pageant. Only when he ran his eyes lower, past the still taut tips of her breasts to where her small hand lay lightly on her sperm spattered blonde "vee" could he truly believe what a powerfully sensuous woman resided inside this slender sixteen year-old's body.
After a few minutes of rest, they showered together in the motor cruiser's luxurious "head", soaping each other's bodies lovingly. Then he sent Tracey up to the showroom while he went out on the dock to bawl out Toby Turetsky and Rufus Bray and frighten them away from the girl with threats of probation officers and job loss. As he'd expected, the two unintelligent ex-convicts cowered sullenly beneath his scalding verbal attack, and he felt so satisfied as he strode away that he didn't notice the shadow of young Colin Highsmith standing behind a boat within easy earshot of his tongue-lashing.
Colin's dark eyes were thin lines of scheming greed, his mouth was twisted into a lewd grin, and as soon as he saw Tracey Aronson's boss disappear into his father's motor cruiser, he headed purposefully toward the showroom to invite the overwhelmingly delighted to a party at his house that night.