Chapter 10

Yvonne's arrival was greeted with a flurry of whispers that swept through the crowd as people turned to their neighbors and pointed her out. There was a certain poise, a certain dignity in her appearance. She was not exactly tall, nor was she short, but her medium dimensions were deceiving, for her bearing was regal and her body was rich and lustrous.

In the proper mood she could accept any man; but if Yvonne thought that she was being slighted, or that the man was being insolent, she would refuse him pointblank. There were young boys at the camp, meek-looking sixteen-year-olds, who had been into Yvonne and had felt the gripping, ripping fingernails on their backs when Yvonne had her orgasm. She was lewd beyond belief.

Yet there were men - Burt Conroy was one of them - who had never gotten into Yvonne for the simple reason that Yvonne distrusted them or thought that their attitude toward her was slighting. A few of them hated her for her attitude. They also hated her for her ability to take over the crowd. Don Pearce was one man who had never made it with Yvonne, largely because his way of approaching her was rough and point-blank. Don hated her also for the way she directed the attention of the crowd away from him and his sly witticisms and over to herself. At the moment, he was staring jealously at her, hating her for the way everyone had turned to watch her entrance - hating her for the way he had been humiliated, since there was no point in hating the big Texan, Davey, for what he had suffered at his hands. He could not take it out on Davey, but he might on Yvonne.

As for Yvonne, her entrance was indeed spectacular. She wore a tiny bikini bottom of some kind of lustrous material, and a top that just cradled her breasts lovingly without concealing them. Around her was swirled a cloak that was quite transparent, made of chiffon, that caught the light from the fire and turned it into a soft glow, as of a sunset.

Yvonne stood there for a moment, head held high, as always, for it was an aspect of her personality that she demanded tribute from her subjects. Then she let the filmy wrapping fall and the men leaned forward eagerly to see what she would do. One of them, a jovial, fat fellow from the local town, strummed a chord on a guitar, mocking Yvonne's somewhat pompous entrance. But in the next moment his fingers were still again as he watched, along with the rest, while Yvonne slipped the halter from her shoulders in one quick, graceful motion. Then he began to strum the guitar again, softly now, accompanying her movements as she began to dance for the company.

The women settled down. Curiously, none of them were even especially jealous of Yvonne, perhaps because she was professional at what they were only amateurs. A belly dancer by trade, Yvonne had perfected the sinuous movements and the inviting look that made men stop and stare and wonder if they could have her. But for all her quick temper, for all her pride, she was not catty, and the women, disarmed by this, saved their hatred for others among their group. Now they settled down with their men and their liquor and watched the proceedings.

The dance was stately at first. Yvonne swept around the circle, close to the fire, and moved in time to the strummed chords of the guitar. A few people clapped, then more.

Yvonne's body was oiled and her sweat beaded on her dark skin. The young man who owned the pony watched her and felt a deep longing inside him for that young body, that experienced woman. He wondered how he could ask her. Then he began to imagine himself doing things with her. He imagined himself lying on top of her, mixing his sweat with hers, smelling the rank smell of her sweat, burying himself in her furry, musky armpits and feeling the slick skin of her belly against his. He began to imagine himself holding her breasts, feeling them slither out of his grasp, oiled and sweaty. He began to imagine himself looking at her furry muff, or even dipping his fingers into the liquid secretions there, but Yvonne still had it covered up.

In the movement of the dance, Yvonne's fingers began to play about the lining of the brief panties that she wore, to turn it downward, until finally a puff of rich pubic hair was showing at her fingers. The men leaned forward, the women relaxed and took a drink. But the sexual excitement in the air was palpable; it felt like the vibrating, humming sensation that is in the air around a high-tension wire. It was not even a pleasant thing, for it suggested forces that had a kind of violence, of explosiveness, to them.

Then the panties were down and kicked off into the crowd. Yvonne had kicked them expertly at the young man with the pony, and when they landed in his lap he turned red and stuttered and pretended that he didn't notice the titters of the people around him. But he could smell the rank smell of female lust in their crotch, and knew that he would take them aside and inhale the tantalizing odor of them where no one could watch him. While he thought about Yvonne, wishing that he could make love to her.

The dance had picked up speed now. Yvonne was on her knees, her knees far apart, and everyone craned for a look at the moist, bushy pubic area that she was no longer making any attempt to conceal. In the flickering light from the fire, the lips of her vagina were revealed, pouting hungrily. They looked huge and eager, plunging out through the matted hair, tensing and flushing red as her sexual excitement increased.

Don Pearce stayed back in the dark. His chest hurt, and he felt a bitter hatred of the people around him. He took a deep draught of wine and realized that he wanted not merely to fuck Yvonne - she was too much in control, found it too easy to give a man the idea that she was fucking him, not the other way around - but to climb on her backside and ram his cock home in her asshole, making her squirm with pain and beg to be let go.

He thought about this for a while, standing there, and felt his cock grow hard from the thought. But he wouldn't do it alone. Instead he would wait until Burt came, and the two of them - he sat down on the ground and planned it out.

"Not now," said Burt Conroy. He was holding on to Ellie, who, whether because she had been drugged or simply because she was frightened out of her mind, did not struggle but simply stood there by his side, a vague look on her face.

Burt watched Yvonne's dance with only a trace of interest. Yvonne had denied him again and again, until he felt as if he would do anything to get into her. But Yvonne was popular; it wouldn't do to rape her. And yet - He glanced at the squat Bobo Tolbert, who was standing by his side and chortling happily. "Maybe," he said.

"What can happen?" asked Don Pearce belligerently. "The three of us, right? Bobo, he'll do what you ask - won't you, Bobo? Sure you will. Look, Yvonne's a cunt, that's all she is.

Nobody is going to have much to say if we do it to her. I figure we aren't the only guys around her who'd like to get into her. Maybe a gang bang would be in order."

"No," said Burt Conroy. "Nothing like that. I don't want it to be too much fun for her."

"That's why - that's what I'm talking about. Give it to her where it hurts. I want to get up on that bitch and make her beg me to put it in her cunt."

Ellie was moaning softly. She tried to move away from Burt. Bobo Tolbert was there to keep her from moving away. Then Burt yanked at her arm and dragged her toward him.

"What's with her?" asked Pearce.

"Meat," said Burt Conroy shortly. "Hot meat for the table. A real live virgin was going to fuck a dog tonight."

Pearce reached over to slap Ellie's backside, but his movement brought Bobo Tolbert between him and Ellie. With a growl, the powerful Bobo shoved Pearce away. Then he chortled at Pearce's angry expression. His monstrous cock was half tumid now, sticking out at right angles from him, a huge, swollen muscle, the head flaring out like a huge, purple plum.

"Leave her alone." Burt thought for a moment. "Okay. Only one thing, we wait until I give the word."

"Wait for what?" asked Pearce.

"We wait for Yvonne's act. Not the dancing. She's going to do something special for us tonight."

He gestured to a goat that was tethered nearby. Don Pearce looked startled. Then he grinned and nodded.

The four of them stood there watching Yvonne's dance. Ellie looked crushed.

Timmy Holstead, the boy with the pony, was a tall, gawky youngster with a bad complexion and a diffident manner that had so far kept him from knowing very many girls, and of those he knew he had kissed only two. He had not petted any of them and he had certainly not made love to any.

The girl in front of him was one of the Terry sisters. He had seen the two of them perform and longed for them the way he longed for Yvonne.

But he didn't know how to speak to them. When one of them - it happened to be Gabriella - came over to chat with Timmy, he stood there in front of her and couldn't think of anything to say. He nodded when she spoke. She was within inches of him, right in front of him, and he had to keep his heavy dick from swinging against her. He hoped that she wouldn't turn around and see it. He felt himself becoming faint at just the thought of reaching out and touching her on the shoulder. But then she turned around.

"This is boring," she said casually. "Let's go do something."

"Sure," said Timmy eagerly. Then he caught himself and tried to sound less eager. "That's okay by me."

They walked out into the darkness, along the stream. For a minute or two they were aware of thrashing bodies in the dark, not far from them, and grunting sounds as of hogs rooting.

Timmy was acutely embarrassed whenever he heard such sounds, but Gabriella didn't seem even to notice. He tried not to touch her for a while. Then he tried to touch her accidentally, and the feeling was exhilarating. But he knew that this perfect girl, this flawless girl with the lovely body and the soft, white flesh, only lightly tanned, could never be interested in him. His chance came when he helped her up onto some rocks. She asked for his help, and when he reached for her and she climbed up beside him, she was suddenly cold, or said she was.

"Warm me up a little, Timmy. I'm really cold." Then there was that moment - Timmy would remember it always - when he touched her gently and she turned her body toward his, letting her face rest against his chest. They stood there like that for a few moments.

Timmy was acutely aware of his cock which had surged upward against the girl, and he assumed that she was simply not aware of it. His surprise was great, therefore, when she suddenly reached down and took hold of his cock, which throbbed and jerked in her hand.

"You're very big there, you know."

Timmy blushed and wondered what to say. She was stroking his cock calmly, being very gentle, and it felt so good that he knew he had to do something with it before long. He wanted to get away and beat off in the dark, where no one could see.

"Does that feel good?"

Timmy stuttered and hated himself for stuttering.

"Let's lay down in the sand."

Timmy let himself be led a few feet away to where the sand was soft, and they lay down.

He could smell her in the cool air - smell the sweat, the female smells of her, the smells of a woman. When she turned to him and grabbed him, not even gently, he was astonished and had a momentary impulse to draw back, to withstand her onslaught. But then he let it happen. In a moment they were laying on the sand together, both of them naked, feeling their young bodies surge with feeling.

Timmy felt dizzy; he felt as if something was happening that he couldn't control. He could smell Gabriella's sweet breath. Then she kissed him. He felt her plump breasts moving against his chest and felt as if they were hot points of sharp steel penetrating him. Then he thought of what he could do to Gabriella, and wondered if he were capable of it. He knew that men became impotent in such situations and was deathly afraid that he would do so.

But when Gabriella lay back on the sand and drew him to her, his cock retained its strength and vigor. He got on top of her eagerly, feeling how his cock thrust accurately at the mushy soft spot between her legs. It took a moment of awkward shifting - Gabriella helped, directing his cock with her hand - before he got it up against her cunt. He was astonished to feel her cunt sucking his cock in, as it seemed. It had seemed so small when he had stolen a look at it earlier.

He came almost instantly, but didn't want her to know. With awkward feeling, he held his breath and felt the jism surge out of his body and into hers. In the next moment her hips bucked up hard against his and she let out a loud groan as she, too, had her orgasm. It was quick and violent.

They lay there in the night together. He could see her face in the moonlight and her expression had that openness, that raw look, that women have when they experience their climax. There were beads of sweat on her forehead and she was smiling at him.

"Did you make it?" she asked. He nodded silently.

"Do you want to do it again?"

He nodded again and his heart pounded in anticipation.

Ellie stared dully at the scene in front of her. The entire group, men and women together, had gathered in a circle away from the fire, and the inside of the circle was lit up by the harsh light from a Coleman lantern hung in a tree.

There was Yvonne, her plump, brown breasts succulent and full, and she was standing beside a contraption of some sort. Ellie was too confused, too deadened even to wonder what the device was for.

One of the men had built it for a very special purpose. It was a wooden frame with wooden ribbing over which was tacked an animal hide. The whole thing was tilted slightly upward and was set on sturdy wooden legs that were pointed outward for stability. Inside the tube formed by the hide, but about a foot and a half below the hide, there was a foam-rubber cushion that was about six inches thick and was resting on a curved board anchored solidly at several points to the wooden legs. The front legs of the contraption had leather grips on them, but what purpose these had could not be divined - certainly not by Ellie, who stared at the thing and did not even wonder what it was for, or why everyone was watching it with such interest.

The lower end of the board supporting the foam-rubber cushion was hinged, and a wooden screw underneath it, mounted in a two-by-four and operated by a steel handle clamped securely to it, could be used to raise or lower the hinged board.

Yvonne stood there and didn't seem to be quite sure what she was to do with it, but when one of the men - evidently the one who had built the machine - came over to help her, she let herself be shown its workings.

The crowd watched as the man instructed Yvonne to climb into the thing. She stepped up to it and climbed in headfirst, at the lower end of the machine, lying prone on the foam- rubber cushion, so that the framework with the animal skin was above her. Then the man showed her the leather grips, which she promptly took hold of. At this point the crowd shifted around so that everyone was standing directly behind the machine and Yvonne, with an excellent view of her hindquarters, and it became apparent to everyone that the machine had been designed to offer Yvonne adequate support when the goat fucked her.

"Obviously," said the inventor, "it's not feasible to let the goat just fuck a woman, since the goat would be much too hard on the woman. What I've done here is to construct a framework that takes up the weight of the goat and prevents it from hurting Yvonne. The animal skin is just for the sake of realism; it's not really meant to fool the goat. In my business, in the dairy business, we collect bull sperm by putting the bull in one end of a darkened corridor that has a frame like this at the other end, with a cowhide over it. The bull sees what he thinks is a cow, mounts it, and comes all at once, so that we can collect the jism for artificial insemination."

The man picked up a bottle of pale liquid and showed it to the crowd. He seemed quite pleased with his achievement. "This is urine from a she-goat in heat. We don't know whether it will work or not, but we'll see in a moment."

Walking over to the tethered billy goat he opened the bottle of goat urine and held it near the animal's nose. The goat sniffed and lunged against the cord that held him. His red cock came out several inches, flexing.

"What we'll do," he said as he took out a small paintbrush, "is apply a little of this to Yvonne." He did so, while the crowd watched and whispered quietly. "And then bring the goat over and find out what happens."

One of the other men brought the goat over to where Yvonne's rump protruded out of the machine. The man with the bottle of urine had painted it over the ripe lips of Yvonne's cunt and had then adjusted the screw so that her buttocks were not too high up, to keen the weight of the goat from hurting her. And he was now sighting carefully into the machine, only inches away from Yvonne's now smelly cunt, when the billy goat made a sudden lunge toward Yvonne, yanking the cord away from the other man, and mounted Yvonne.

The crowd gasped. The goat's cock had come out several inches more, a pointed, heavy thing, red and swollen, that jabbed in a furious arc at Yvonne's backside. Yvonne screamed with what sounded like real terror. Two men ran over and yanked at the goat, which came down and stood there for a moment shaking its head and stamping its feet.

"You okay?"

"I'm okay. Just give me a little warning. He got into my asshole that time."

"I'll stay here and direct it."

Again the attempt was made, but this time the goat was controlled until he was within inches from Yvonne's backside, and then he stood there for a few moments licking her cunt with his long tongue, while Yvonne held her breath and shivered with ecstasy and the crowd fell silent.

Finally he lunged up onto her, his forelegs clutching the framework that held the animal hide. Again his thrust was blind and inaccurate, but this time the one man grabbed for his huge cock and directed its swollen, pulpy mass at Yvonne's ample cunt, where the lips were swollen and flushed from sexual excitement. The goat's haunches slapped forward in one hard motion, and the slap could be heard throughout the area. Women clutched their men and shivered at the thought of what Yvonne was experiencing; their genitals twitched in sympathy. As for the men, they reached around and began to feel their women, letting their fingers explore in liquid cunts that supplied an ever-fresh quantity of cream for their probing.

The goat's motions were spasmodic and yet regular. Its hind, feet shifted constantly as it sought to get yet more of its huge cock into Yvonne, while its jism spurted out of her and poured down her backside to drip down her legs. After a minute or two, everyone became aware that, unlike a man, the goat was not limited by its ability to come, for it was evidently coming again and again, while Yvonne, too dazed even to speak, raised her backside to the goat's and tried to give its cock as straight a passage as possible to plunge into.

When Yvonne came, her whole body shuddered and she let go of the leather straps. The goat was still shifting its hind feet and clutching the framework above Yvonne with its forelegs.

"Pull him off," said Yvonne finally, gasping, when her orgasm had subsided.

The crowd yelled for more, but the two men pulled the goat off her. Its whole body was still arcing, as if it were still plunging into Yvonne.

"Who's next?" asked Yvonne with a cheerful grin. Her body was slack and soaked with perspiration. The goat, smelling the rank urine painted across her cunt, tried to follow and mount her, but was held back. No one volunteered to get into the framework.

"Betty wants to," said one of the women.

"Not me," said the woman named Betty. "You do it."

"I'll do it," said the first woman. "But only if you will."

The woman named Betty was licking her lips and looking thoughtful. When several of the women took up the cry, she finally let herself be pushed forward. "Wait a minute," she said then. "Let's see who all's going to do it. I'm not going to do it unless some of you will."

Several women agreed to do so.

"I'm going for a swim," said Yvonne. "But I'll come back later. I'll do it anytime. You show me a man like that and - " The men started to boo loudly, and they booed until she had disappeared down the slope toward the swimming hole. A young boy, seventeen years old, started to follow her, but Burt Conroy and Don Pearce struck up a conversation with him, and by the time he got away from them one of the women had climbed into the framework. The boy looked back, hesitated, then moved back into the crowd just as one of the men at the framework was slopping goat urine onto the woman's backside, while the billy goat reared up and strained at the cord.

Burt Conroy and Don Pearce watched the spectacle silently for a moment. Then, glancing at each other, they began to make their way down the slope toward the stream, dragging Ellie along.