Chapter 3

Barbara ate alone at the rear booth in one of the two cafes on Main Street, attracting a certain amount of conversation though she was not actually approached. She spent the evening watching television, the old black-and-white set having been included among the furnishings of her duplex. Tired from her trip, she turned it off at the end of the eleven o'clock news, then went into the bathroom and started the water running in the tub.

After bending over to test it with her finger and adjust the faucets to the desired balance between hot and cold, she straightened up and started to unbutton her blouse down the front.

The door was equipped with a full-length mirror and as she parted the lacy material off her brassiere-clad up-thrust breasts her eyes strayed to the reflection of her slender supple body. Still watching herself, she pushed the blouse off her shoulders to leave the upper half of her body completely exposed except for her tight white brassiere. She hung the blouse on the door knob, then loosened the snap at the zipper of her skirt and drew it slowly down, wriggling her hips in an unintentionally sexy gesture as she shed the garment down off her hips. Having removed her shoes while watching television, she now wore nothing but her brassiere and her flimsy bikini panties, and quickly she reached up behind her back to undo the brassiere-snap, shrugging her shoulders to let the flimsy garment fall from her arms and drop lightly to the floor.

Barbara stared silently at the reflection of her sensuously revealed body, her eyes roving slowly over her slender teasingly exposed torso and her proudly up-standing breasts peaked by her wide-corona pink nipples that had already erected to tingling rigidity from their contact with the air. Then slowly her gaze descended lower, down over the smoothness of her belly and the dainty little aperture of her navel, down lower to her low hanging silken panties where she could just distinguish the soft sparse triangle of pubic hair nestled so invitingly between her slender thighs. Perhaps it was narcissistic, she thought, but she couldn't deny her sexuality. She looked like she was just made to be loved, to be ravished, to be fucked, and she couldn't help but wonder why Greg had waited so long to finally do what he should have done weeks before. He had raped her, or at least he'd forced her against her protest if not her total resistance, and in spite of all her moral indignation she had loved it like she'd never loved anything in her life.

God, she thought, her mind blurring with the delicious memory of his hands on her naked flesh, his hard long prick tearing a burning hole of fire straight up through the tender little membrane of flesh that had guarded the exquisite inner secrets of her cunt. Now it seemed like nothing but a long lost dream, yet it was still more vivid in her memory than anything that had happened before or since. And here she was, alone in this little town devoted to the violent conflict of football, and he was so far away.

After another moment of intense staring at her own naked, lovely golden flesh, Barbara turned away from the mirror. She glanced back at the tub and noted it was almost filled, then quickly pulled her panties down off the ripe half-moons of her buttocks, fully exposing the forbidden triangle of soft golden hair between her thighs. She stepped out of her panties, leaving the little garment where it lay, stepped into the tub and lowered her body slowly into the hot bath. The contrast of the temperature of the water and the air in the room caused her to suck in her breath in an audible gasp. Her golden tanned skin prickled with goose bumps and her nipples rose to even greater rigidity from the sharpness of the sensation. Then a low sigh rose in her throat as she became aware of the warm caress of the water on her pussy, and gradually she sank down to a reclining position in the bath, leaning her head against the back of the tub to stare thoughtfully up to the ceiling.

For the first time since she'd arrived she seriously asked herself the question of how she was going to make a life for herself here in this little place. And the answer completely eluded her. Greg's cruel rape of her willing body almost seemed to have turned her into a new person. Though she'd tried to keep her mind off the memory, all through the evening it had been a lingering presence in her mind. She had to have a man, not just any man, but someone she was attracted to and cared for or loved. And here there was no one but those crude loggers who timbered the land, and that stupid hypocrite of a superintendent-football coach-Sunday school teacher, and Sonny, the cute little boy who was the only person she'd felt the slightest bit of rapport with, and those young toughs who were known as the Four Horsemen. God, thought Barbara, no wonder that other teacher got into trouble.

Then her body suddenly stiffened at the implication of what had just occurred to her. It was really crazy for her to be thinking like that, but of course it had just been a passing fantasy. She wasn't the kind of person who could ever get involved in something like what Superintendent Johnson had described to her this afternoon. But if she wasn't that kind of person, what kind of person was she! Her appetite had been whetted. The sensuous woman who had lain dormant inside her for so long had come to life, and somehow now that almost alien-seeming creature would have to be coped with.

"Oh hell," Barbara sighed uncharacteristically. It would all work out sooner or later, but she couldn't remember when she'd ever felt the way she did just now. The truth was that in spite of all her rightful indignation, she'd secretly been amused by the attention that had been given to her by the boys in the pick-up and by the way she kept catching Sonny looking at her when he was escorting her here from the curio shop. The whole day had been a kind of disappointing adventure, but for some reason her flesh and loins had been left prickling with a need that was stronger than anything she'd experienced since the night she'd finally given in to Greg.

Barely aware of what she was doing, Barbara drew her hands slowly up the length of her nakedly submerged body, cupping them lightly over the firm young mounds of her breasts, squeezing their teasing pliancy and tickling over the already tightly erected nipples. Then she let one of her hands trail back down over her naked belly beneath the hot water. The contact of her hand on her tingling flesh was like an electric current of building desire. She stroked over the hole of her navel and then suddenly moved her hand straight down through the silken curls of the soft sparse hair of her cunt.

The aroused young blonde drew in a low hissing of breath as her fingers ventured lower down between her slightly parted thighs, she played teasingly along one of the straining inner tendons before she suddenly made wantonly tantalizing contact with the lust-burning little lips of her cunt, the sheer raw sensation almost causing her to whimper aloud as the responsive surge of hunger went coursing out through her loins and breasts. Her whole naked body was crying out with untapped passion and without further hesitation she parted the blood-filled lips of her vagina, feeling the warmth of the bath water flowing straight up into the tight little orifice of her once-virginal cunt.

Now Barbara was really drifting into a blurred dream-like state of excitement and a series of tantalizing images fluttered conflictingly through her mind. She was vaguely aware that tomorrow morning she would actually be starting her life as a schoolteacher, fulfilling the ambition that had driven her through five years of rigorous study at college. Yet the excitement she should have experienced at that gave way to something bizarre and even more stimulating. She thought: I will be standing as though on display for five hours a day five days a week in front of those boys, those same boys who were seduced and corrupted by the woman whose place I'll take. And they would be looking at her, wanting her, building up fantasies in their minds about having her supple young body; they would lust after her as she now knew men, oh so many men, had been lusting after her ever since she'd first begun the physical transformation from child to woman. And of course they could not have her, just as no man had ever had her except the one man who had been aggressive enough to take her by force.

"Ooooooh," Barbara moaned in building delirium as her mind's eye was filled by a series of even more lurid images of the night Greg had so viciously ravished and thrilled her. She had not even had an orgasm and yet it seemed that the lack of fulfillment and satisfaction from that obscene episode left the memory of it even more vivid and compelling, and suddenly she extended the middle finger of her right hand and aimed it straight up between her thighs, stroking it right over the tingling lust-swollen bud of her clitoris to send a stream of maddening sensation coursing devastatingly over her naked, half-submerged flesh.

Then she trailed her finger lower down between her thighs, pressing the length of it straight along the inflamed hair-lined lips of her vagina. She moved her other hand quickly down from her breasts, spreading the pliant folds of flesh before she began to work her extended finger up into the warm inner sheath, the lubricating liquids of her body flowing freely out to mix with the hot water still lapping up into her sensitive little orifice.

The nakedly squirming young blonde grunted slightly from the sharp stab of sensation, then sighed as her finger slipped slowly deeper into her loins. Her tightly clinging opening parted, the walls of her pussy flowered out as though to suck the penetrating digit deeper inside.

Fantastic sensations rippled through Barbara's whole passion-aroused body and her nerves were electrically charged, all her senses heightened from the desire surging illicitly through her flesh. She arched her ass-cheeks up from the bottom of the tub, a low whimper issuing from deep in her throat as she started to work her finger in and out of the quivering little opening of her cunt. Her teeth were gritted, her eyes tightly closed, her sultry face contorted with desire. She was on the verge of beginning to really masturbate in earnest.

Then for a reason even she didn't understand, she sighed suddenly and sank back in the tub, her eyes opening wide and the motion of her hand between her thighs coming slowly to a stop. No, she wasn't going to do that. She wasn't going to masturbate. There might have been a time when she would have, feeling the way she felt now. But that time was past. Masturbation was play; but she had experienced the real thing. She would never really find true satisfaction, true fulfillment, until she experienced the real thing again.

There are moments in life, call them turning points or milestones, which one will await, long for or dread, imagine until they become almost real, almost lived before their time. Rarely, when one of these moments finally comes, does the reality of it correspond with the image so long anticipated. For Barbara, of course, her first day as a teacher was supposed to have been a milestone. In fact, perhaps because of everything else she'd been through during the last week and a half, that first day of classes hardly stood out from the day before or the day after. By the week's end it would just be one blurred memory out of time spent in a strange environment in which she still had not quite found her niche.

Of course Barbara had done her stint as a student teacher, while still an undergraduate, to fulfill the requirement for her certificate. That had been at Galileo High in San Francisco. Hatfieldville and San Francisco were two different worlds. Perhaps, she thought, the distinction lay in the fact that a big city high school like Galileo consisted of hundreds of outsiders, pushed by circumstance into a bounded confine. That in fact was what a city was made up of. A small town, or a small town school, by contrast, consisted of the insiders, who had been placed in their respective niches and who could only with the greatest effort change their status in the society, and the outsiders, who had no niche, who wandered, as though in limbo or in the darkness of ignorance until they found their niche or it was found for them.

Practically everybody in Hatfieldville High knew everybody else, and knew them intimately by the standards that prevailed in the places Barbara had lived before. There were several new students, but all but one of them had lived in Hatfieldville for at least half the summer, and though they were not really on the "inside", they were not total strangers. Barbara was the only new addition to the faculty. She had to get acquainted with her fellow teachers, she had to memorize the names of over a hundred students, but more important than learning their names, she had to learn who they were. That was the crux of the matter. These boys and girls all knew and understood each other, they were all fixed in their roles. Barbara had to recognize those roles, those places they filled in the school society, in order to deal with them as individuals.

At the top of the student body hierarchy was Bobby Lane, this in spite of the fact that he was only a junior. His leadership derived in essence from the fact that as quarterback of the football team he was leader of the legendary "Four Horsemen". The nucleus of his group was made up of the other three backfielders, Danny Morrow, Jimmy Crane and Tommy Howard. These four boys had occupied four desks together in the back of the room where she taught the English Literature class. Sonny Wilkens, the cute youngster who'd taken her to Mr. Gladstone's place the afternoon she'd arrived, had also registered for this class in spite of the fact that he was only a sophomore. That put Sonny in two of her classes, for which she was grateful, as he was still the only person she'd met in Hatfieldville with whom she'd felt any genuine rapport. Sonny, who'd come from Southern California to live with his grandmother when his parents had been killed in a car-wreck several years ago, was also a kind of outsider. He was genuinely interested in reading, and while not brilliant, he was because of his interest far and away the best student in both of the classes for which he'd registered.

So, gradually Barbara fell into the rhythm of teaching. She came to grasp the fact that football was king at Hatfieldville High, she tried not to fight that situation but to work within it and do her best to teach what she'd come here to teach without alienating her students by rejecting the sport they seemed to have been bred to focus their interest on in life. Of course after last year's scandal she inevitably was on trial herself. The first couple of days of classes she was subjected to considerable teasing, both to her face and behind her back, primarily at the hands of Bobby and his group. She tried to respond good naturedly, she did what she could to conceal the secret delight she derived from the unasked-for attention, and she thought that gradually she was winning the boys' respect.

Night was the worst time. She had managed even to establish an uneasy peace with Coach Burt Johnson. She'd been surprised to discover he was a bachelor but when he'd invited her out for a meal and a movie she'd politely refused, having convinced herself that it was better not to have any social involvement with the man who was her boss and with whom she was hardly in agreement about the basic tenets of education. That was the only invitation out she'd had, except for a few playful overtures from Bobby, always made in front of his friends. She tried to read and watch television to while away the time, but she was constantly aware of a gnawing sense of unfulfillment that had plagued her ever since the night of her forced defloration by her fianc'. It was as much out of loneliness as anything else that when, on Thursday afternoon, Sonny Wilkens visited her alone in her home room and asked if he could come over to her house some time, she'd suggested that he come for dinner that night. The boy accepted gratefully and seemed genuinely pleased when Barbara suggested that since she really didn't know the first thing about football perhaps he could explain the basics of the game so she could better understand what was happening the following weekend when the team would have its opening game. He assured her he could tell her whatever she wished to know, then mumbled that there was something he'd wanted to talk to her about too and now each of them could help the other. But before Barbara could even ask him what that was he'd retreated awkwardly from the room. Barbara spent the rest of the day in a state of nervously fluttering excitement. She thought now that during the last week, spent in almost total solitude except for her time at school, she hadn't realized how really on edge she was. The thought of having male companionship for th evening, even if her companion was to be a young and innocent boy instead of a man, thrilled her almost beyond belief and it was with the enthusiasm of a teenage girl preparing for her first date that the sensuous young blonde did her dinner shopping and went home to prepare to entertain her guest. She put two juicy steaks to marinate in a special Chinese sauce she'd learned to make in San Francisco, put two large potatoes to bake in the oven, then went and quickly showered with the hose that attached to the faucet in the tub.

Refreshed, her nakedly glistening skin still tingling with nervous excitement, Barbara got out of the shower and walked naked into her bedroom. She put on a pair of lacy black panties and a matching brassiere with flimsy net cups that did nothing to conceal the pert little points of her nipples. Then she hesitated, not sure what she should wear to greet her young visitor. She wanted to look her best, naturally, but by the same token she knew that she should be careful to be respectably and modestly dressed when he arrived. At last she selected a tight-fitting maroon sweater and a light beige skirt which stopped just above her knees. She put on a pair of thonged sandals with leather straps that wound around her ankles to hold them on, and which accented the length of her legs. Then she brushed out the golden locks of her hair, which she wore hanging long and loose over her slender shoulders, and went back out to prepare the steaks for cooking.

It was seven o'clock on the dot when Barbara heard the knock on the door. Her heartbeat slightly hastened as she hurried down the hall to open it. Sonny stood on the front porch, looking red-faced and slightly embarrassed. Tucked under his arm were a couple of books and several mimeographed sheets of paper stapled together.

"I hope I'm not late, or early," he said in a quavering voice.

Barbara laughed gaily, her firm voluptuous breasts bouncing teasingly on her slender torso. "No, Sonny. You're just in time. Come in."

"I brought a couple of books about football, and here's my copy of Coach Johnson's playbook. This will be more help than anything else. See?" he said, stopping just inside the door and holding up a bunch of mimeographed papers cluttered with hand-drawn diagrams. "The O's are us and the X's are the other team. These lines with the arrows on the end show where every man is supposed to go. The slash means a block, the dotted lines mean pass and this little V means a hand-off."

"Yes," Barbara smiled, though she'd hardly even followed what he said. "I'm sure that will be very helpful. Now, why don't you go into the living room and make yourself comfortable. I'll go and broil the steaks."

"Steaks?" he croaked.

"Sure. Don't you like steak? And a baked potato with butter and sour cream?"

"Yeah. Yeah, steak is great," Sonny said, though Barbara noted a slight lack of conviction in his voice.

She escorted the youngster to the living room, where the dining table was already set, then went to the kitchen and put the two sirloins on the broiler. Ten minutes later she served up the two juicy chunks of beef and the potatoes and small accompanying salads, then took the two plates out to the living room, where the young boy was lounging on the couch. They sat down at opposite ends of the table and Barbara filled their glasses with iced-tea from the pitcher she'd brought out earlier. Then she attacked her steak and potato with relish.

"After dinner maybe I can go over the play-sheet with you," Sonny offered.

"That's very nice. Maybe we will," Barbara answered without real interest, then looked up. "But what was it you were saying you wanted to talk to me about?"

A flicker of nervous alarm showed in Sonny's face and he averted his eyes. "Oh, nothing I guess."

Barbara smiled warmly. "Now I know there's something, otherwise you wouldn't have mentioned it. We'll get to it when we've finished eating." Then she paused, noting that Sonny had hardly touched his food. "Is there something wrong?"

"Hunh?"

"You're not eating. Is there something wrong with your steak."

"Naw," Sonny said, shaking his head. "I.. . I had to eat first over at my grandmother's. See, she wouldn't. . . she wouldn't.. . "

The boy's voice trailed off and he was unable to meet Barbara's eyes. "She wouldn't what?" Barbara insisted, then just before Sonny spoke she thought she understood.

"I didn't want her to know I was coming over here because.. . well, you know.. . what happened last year and all.. . "

"Oh my God," Barbara gasped, putting down her knife and fork. "This is worse than I expected. Now what would that have to do with you coming to visit me? I'm myself, not that other woman. And your grandmother seemed perfectly friendly toward me the day I first got here. She even sent you to help me with my suitcase." Then the young blonde's eyes suddenly sharpened. "Sonny? Were you involved with Dorothy Priddy?"

Sonny swallowed hard. "No. No, I wasn't."

"Well, I'm glad at least for that. But why would your grandmother worry about you having dinner over here."

Sonny looked down at the floor. "I dunno. Maybe she wouldn't. I didn't ask her or anything. I figured it was just better if I didn't mention it."

"And what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Barbara asked suspiciously.

"Oh heck," Sonny said, shaking his head. "I feel really stupid for even coming here."

"I don't want you to feel that way," Barbara said softly. "Let me finish my steak at least and we'll sit down and talk the whole thing over, whatever it is that's bothering you."

But the interruption had caused her to lose her appetite and after only several more bites she rose suddenly, took Sonny's plate along with her own and carried them back to the kitchen. She had emptied them and just put them to soak when Sonny came into the room after her, bearing the iced-tea pitcher and the silverware Barbara had left on the table.

"Oh thank you, Sonny," she said, pleased at the teenager's considerateness. She pitched the knives and forks into the dishwater, then ushered him out of the kitchen and back to the living room. At her direction Sonny took a seat on the couch and after a moment's hesitation she joined him there rather than taking the easy chair across the room. "Now Sonny, what was it you wanted to come over here to talk to me about?"

Sonny shook his head, breathing audibly. "Golly, Miss Halperin. I don't even know how to start. You're going to think.. . well I don't know what you're gonna think."

Barbara gazed tenderly over at the nervous youngster. For a moment he looked back at her, his eyes wandering hungrily down over the full swells of her breasts clearly defined in the tight-fitting sweater she wore. Then again he looked away and cleared his throat, but said nothing.

"Does it have something to do with this other teacher?"

Sonny nodded and looked up. "What it has to do with . . . I wasn't in on that."

"I . . . don't understand," Barbara said after a moment's hesitation.

"Well . . . Sonny began again, then his voice trailed off and he shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"Oh Sonny," Barbara whispered, her hand moving up to touch the side of his face in a gesture of almost maternal sympathy. "Tell me then, what did happen? What was really behind the scandal?"

"She . . . Miss Priddy, she wasn't nearly as young or good-looking as you are," the youngster hesitantly began. "But she was really wild, you know. She'd just got a divorce from her old man when she come here, and Bobby and the other guys started working on her and one night at one of the victory dances-we have a victory dance on Saturday night if we win, and we almost always win-Bobby got her in his pick-up and did it to her."

Barbara gasped at the crudeness of the story, and the boy hesitated until she said tersely, "Go on Sonny; I'm listening."

"Word got around pretty fast, among the guys I mean. I heard them talking about it and at first I didn't even believe it. Then one day she asked me to come over and do some work, helping her clean out the attic of old Jim Miller's place, where she was living. And she started telling me . . . telling me I was cute and all that sissy sort of stuff. I didn't know what to do and so I didn't do anything.

After that the other guys really started bugging me, because by this time the whole backfield and about half the line had already fu-already done it to her. And then I knew it was true. And finally it really hit the fan the night of the pep rally before the Winders Falls game. They took her off in Bobby's pickup and got some beer and gang-banged her. Everybody but me."

Oh God, Barbara thought, her mind recoiling at the revolting story the story the young boy had just so nervously recounted. Her hand still lay softly on his face and she could feel the nervous trembling of his body, almost feel the pain he was putting himself through to tell her all this. And she still didn't know what he'd really had in mind by coming over here to talk to her about this, but she did know that she had to do whatever she could to help him. What he'd just confessed, though it should hardly have made him ashamed, told her so very much about his relationship with the coarser and more worldly boys at the school, and she realized that by a certain way of looking at it, what had happened, or not happened, the day Miss Priddy had invited him to her home could even account for the way the boys in the pick-up had jeered and catcalled at her the first day when they'd seen her with him on the street outside.

"But Sonny," Barbara began tenderly, "you should be proud that you didn't get involved in all that. Why I've never heard such a disgusting story in my life. You should be proud."

"Proud of what? That I'm about the only guy left above freshman in this whole school who hasn't had his first piece of.. . well, you know."

"But that will come in time," Barbara blurted. "You'll find a girl, a nice girl your age, who you can care for and with whom you can make . . . make it meaningful."

"I'm not going to find any nice girls in this stupid town. The only thing these girls are interested in is being with the football heroes, and Fm not even on the team. I'm nothing. I'm just a lousy water boy, like Gunga Din."

"That's not true," Barbara insisted, surprised at the poetic reference to Kipling.

"That's what they think around here, the boys and the girls both."

"That's not what I think," Barbara said with hastily quickening breath. She dropped her hand to cover Sonny's wrist, then let it rest on his knee. She saw the hope flicker in his eyes and he was looking at her as if trying to ascertain whether what she'd said was sincere. Then he looked down from her face, his eyes searching intently over the supple curves of her body, lingering momentarily on the up-thrust mounds of her breasts before descending to her smoothly tapering waist and flaring hips, her long beautiful legs outlined beneath the clinging material of her skirt.

Now Barbara was acutely aware of the way the boy was looking at her and she knew he was becoming sexually aroused in spite of all his shame and awkwardness. He was so innocent and she could only imagine the suffering and embarrassment that had prompted him to come seeking help from her. She knew how boys could be, how they seemed compelled always to gang up and attack the weakest in their group, and though she knew that their conversation had ventured over the danger line, and knew that it was not proper for her to sit here with him like this with him staring with such open, hunger at her lithe young body, she knew also that for her to reject him in any way now might cause irreparable damage to his ego.

Sonny moistened his lips, his eyes again lifting hopefully to Barbara's sensuously smiling face. "I guess the real reason I wanted to come here . . . , " he began, his voice again fading off.

"What, Sonny," Barbara coaxed, waiting with baited breath. "Why did you come here."

"I guess I had the idea you and I were somewhat alike," he said after a pause.

"Alike?" Barbara said with surprise, wondering if somehow this innocent youngster could have sensed her own past and grasped the fact that she had spent a number of years of her life considering herself almost a kind of freak because she had remained a virgin much longer than most of her contemporaries. "How do you mean, alike?"

"We're different than the people here," Sonny said. "I mean, I know you don't care about football and all that. I don't either. The only reason I even agreed to be assistant trainer was that it kept me from being completely left out. And you're not like the other girls . . . I mean women, around town."

"Oh Sonny," Barbara said softly, little tingles of delight dancing over her skin as she gazed into the boy's excited eyes. She could feel a very deep trembling in her own belly and she felt almost like reaching and hugging him, kissing him, showing him at least the way to approach the seduction of a woman. But she knew it was wrong for her to even be thinking in those terms. Perhaps even now she was courting the same disaster that had befallen the woman who'd been her predecessor here, and suddenly she sat up stiffly on the couch, turning slightly away and trying to get a grip on her own fluttering emotions.

"Now I've made you mad," Sonny said, dejected.

"Oh no!" Barbara turned abruptly back to the wounded youngster, realizing she'd done exactly what she'd wanted to avoid doing. She had made him feel rejected, and she knew that was an act she had to rectify immediately. "No Sonny, you didn't make me mad. I feel almost flattered that you should talk to me like that."

Sonny was again looking at her with that same furtive hope, and as she stared back into his innocent blue eyes the flood of emotion that swelled in Barbara's breasts was almost more than she could contain. God, she had been so lonely so very lonely, during the week since she'd come here. And for her it had been only a week, while for Sonny it had been several years.

Then, almost before she knew what she was doing, the sensuous young blonde turned sideways on the couch and reached her arms out to wrap them eagerly around Sonny's slender, shaking frame. Her fingers combed softly through his curly blond hair and she took a quick deep breath before leaning forward and touched her lips to his, holding him tightly to her for a moment before she drew back and pushed him gently away.

"There Sonny," Barbara murmured with a fleeting smile. "Now at least you've kissed a woman, if you never had before."

"Yes," Sonny agreed with an eager nod.

Barbara smiled, hoping the excitement surging over her own tingling skin didn't show. "So I hope you feel better," she said, trying to sound as casual as she could.

"Yeah, but . . . , " Sonny began nervously, finding it necessary to rally his courage before finally blurting: "But I sure would like to do it again. Could we, maybe a little longer this time and . . . "

Barbara started to say no, but the words didn't leave her mouth. Instead she waited in silence, knowing that now she really was treading onto dangerous territory, yet still unable to bring herself to make an outright refusal of the youngster's request. Of course there could be nothing really serious between them. She wasn't worried about that. She wasn't going to seduce Sonny and she wasn't going to be seduced by him. She doubted if he was even big enough or powerful enough to take advantage of her the way Greg had their last night together. But still she knew it was improper for her to be here with him like this, and she was almost at the point of explaining it to him on that level when he suddenly leaned forward, gathering her slender body awkwardly into his arms and locking his lips ardently over her slightly open mouth.

The young school teacher started, trying weakly to struggle free from the eager embrace. And yet she couldn't deny her excitement at Sonny's surprising show of aggression even as she pushed against his body her mouth was sucking his cautiously exploring tongue deep between her teeth. Then she ceased to resist altogether, letting her body go almost limp and squirming her breasts warmly against the frailness of his chest. Now she felt almost eager as she shamelessly wriggled the soft supple curves of her body even closer against the trembling teenager, delighting in the feel of his firm small pectorals rippling against her breasts as he held her tightly to his heaving chest. Then she gasped from the even more devastating surge of passion that ripped through her body as Sonny reached up suddenly to cup his hand over one of the lust-tightened swells of her breasts, and she reached up to wrap her arms again eagerly around his shoulders to pull him even more tightly to her.

A low moan of pleasure swelled in Barbara's throat as Sonny's fingers sought out the little distended bud of one of her nipples.

His other hand was clawing frenziedly at her back and she felt half-drunk with the forbidden physical delight of this masculine contact, lost with the rising passion rushing almost out of control through her tingling flesh. Then her whole body jerked, a further chill of delight coursing up her spine as one of Sonny's hands suddenly moved up beneath her sweater to cup firmly over one of her breasts, now protected from his touch by nothing but the gauze-like cup of her skimpy little brassiere.

Sonny was hanging onto the new English teacher's lustfully squirming body with all his might, his lips again wetly covering her mouth as he pawed awkwardly at her breasts. Barbara could feel the blood raging deep within her body and she knew she was duty bound to stop him right now. She'd certainly had nothing like this in mind when she'd decided to give him a kiss, but in her delirious state of excitement it seemed impossible to resist. It felt so good, so warm, so thrilling just to hold him in her arms. It was all so exciting and perverse, and as the young boy continued to paw and maul her aroused flesh she told hrself that still there was no real danger. She could always stop Sonny when it became necessary, and in the meantime, it couldn't do any harm to play around a little and enjoy herself for just a few minutes longer.

Then another low moan rose in the young school teacher's throat as Sonny moved his hand down from her back to find the hem of her modest length skirt, tugging it quickly up her thighs almost to the leg-band of her tight-fitting little panties. A shudder coursed through her slender lust-racked body as she felt his fingers touch her inner thigh just above the knee, moving swiftly up across her sensitive satiny skin.

"Oh no, Sonny. Stop," Barbara purred halfheartedly, tearing her lips away from the youngster's mouth as she felt his other hand press and squeeze even more forcibly at her breast. A little cry of mingled pain and excitement burst from her throat as he took her already distended nipple and rolled it forcibly between his thumb and forefinger to cause the little bud to swell to even greater hardness. Then his hand up beneath her skirt brushed along the tight-straining tendon at the top of her inner thigh, venturing gradually higher, and in sudden fearful desperation at the maddening urges coursing through her lust-ignited flesh she reached down to seize his wrist and try to tug his hand down from beneath her skirt.

For the briefest moment Sonny fought back. Barbara held his wrist firmly in her own and she was struggling with all her strength to push it away from the burning softness of her cunt, and Sonny was pushing back just as hard, his fingers extended and groping until they just touched the little silken crotch band of her sheer panties stretched tight across the thinly haired plane of her pussy. Then he relaxed slightly, letting his hand slide back halfway down to her knee where he dug his fingers into the sensitive flesh so hard she cried out in pain, and as he tried to make a stand there between her legs his other hand suddenly yanked the flimsy little brassiere-cups away from her breasts, his fingers now tweaking and gouging at the nakedness of her rigidly swollen nipples. His mouth again covered hers firmly and he threw his weight hard against her, pushing her to a half-reclining position against the armrest of the couch.

Now Barbara was really fighting for her life, her own lust mushrooming to a crescendo at the sheer animal assault being launched against her desire-saturated body. Still clinging to the hand that was thrust up beneath her skirt, with her other hand, she reached up beneath her sweater to try to defend her breasts. She bucked and squirmed, alternately sucking at Sonny's tongue and trying to fight it from the warm moist hollow of her mouth. And then, when she feared she was just on the verge of ceasing to resist, Sonny sighed, relaxed, ceased his struggling and, as she gave a little shove against his chest, straightened up and removed his two hands respectively from beneath her sweater and skirt.

"Oh Sonny," Barbara gasped breathlessly, experiencing a strange mixture of triumph and disappointment as she realized her defense had been successful.

"I'm sorry," Sonny gasped, staring still wild-eyed at her lust-strained face.

"I know you are," Barbara managed in a quivering voice. "But you've got to go. You've got to go right now."

"No please!"

"Come on." She stood up suddenly, taking him by his wrist and jerking him up from the couch, leading him almost forcibly from the living room and down the hall to the door.

"Now go, Sonny. Go on before we do something we'll both regret."

"But.. . "

"But nothing."

"But.. . if I go now, can I come back again sometime?"

"Oh Sonny. All right. But now you've got to go."

She watched him retreat down the steps, half-dejected, half-hopeful. Then she turned and walked on wobbly legs back down the hall to the living room.