Chapter 1
When Charley arrived that blustery November afternoon, only Carrie, his wife, was with him. No one else. Twilight was sweeping down as he marched into the large, old house near Millinocket and spurred Oscar, the major-domo, into action. He wanted everything in final order, drinks on hand, a meal preparing. His friends would soon be there.
We knew his friends. Most of them would have been there before, and those that hadn't wouldn't be strange. He chose his friends to help him pluck his victims and obey him at work and play. His generous hand kept their loyalty, and when that failed he had other ways to keep them, or kill them.
We knew his friends. They were either men happy to please a master, kiss the hand and dodge the blows, or disgruntled men afraid to speak or stir, except when told, much less to leave.
As they arrived we served them drinks, talked, and learned their names, though little else, for they all watched their tongues. They were all relaxing, unwinding from the long drive, drinking, talking quietly. All but one, who sat alone, nursing his drink, elbow in hand, huddled on a hassock, glaring fearfully at the rest. Only he didn't pat and prod and grope through our scanty underwear as we moved amongst them all. He showed no interest in the merchandise.
Intrigued, I dodged hands and arms to reach him and tried to draw him out, but failed. Moodily, he answered only in grunting monosyllables, saying nothing. I wanted to persist, but Oscar called me to tend to newcomers. I had to shrug and go, to hang their coats and endure their capricious advances while I showed them to the bar.
Twelve men filled the room when all had come, and quiet fell when Charley stood, Carrie keeping her seat beside him, and raised his glass.
"Is everybody settled? Well then, here's to a glorious weekend! Drink up! There's plenty more." He set down his glass and leaned, relaxed, against the end of the couch.
"We've only got one little piece of business to take care of this weekend, but I think we can leave figuring out what to do about Hank until tomorrow." Grimly, he smiled and waved in the direction of the quiet fellow on the hassock, who silently bared his teeth in reply. I wondered what he had done to so fear for himself. What would they do about him, or to him? The answer to that had to wait, though. Charley went on with his welcoming speech.
"You haven't all been here before, so I'd just like to say that nothing here is really free. I run it on a real old system; the Indians used to use something like it, but they never had it so good. The best way to explain it is to show you, so ... Penny, come over here, will you?"
He beckoned, I obeyed. As I approached he unfastened his pants, letting them fall about his ankles. Coarse laughter rose as the others realized what was coming.
"All these girls owe me rent on their fine rooms, but I can't collect it all. I have to pick and choose; the payment takes so much out of a guy, it's hard to believe he's collecting." Laughter. "This kid's got a real hot specialty. I give her a room, and she gives me her specialty. Come on, Penny, get down there. Show these jokers how good you are."
I knelt to pull his half-turgid organ from his shorts and fondle it carefully, stroking and kissing it to heated rigidity. While he and all his cronies looked on, I took it into my mouth and brought all my skills to bear.
The humiliation of being forced to perform before so many strangers scorched my cheeks. He had done similar things before, but in front of my family and people I'd known, and before I'd known his evil so well. That seemed as long ago and as far away as what happens in history books. But now I was fixed inescapably in the present-though a certain feeling of distance extended itself from my memory of the past, so that I didn't feel truly involved. My mind had wandered and I'd found myself, on first feeling his nubbly passage through my teeth, sorely tempted to clamp down upon him. Only fear of what his friends would do forced my attention back to my task.
His soul-felt groan of completion as he flooded my mouth with his hot, salty slime signaled that my distraction hadn't interfered. I was as able as ever to please him in my special way.
I swallowed his copious emission, but kept up my suction till he pushed me away. "Enough. Enough. Ahhh, that takes care of your rent all right. You like the looks of my system, fellows? I like to call it a system of bawder. Maybe you can see why." He sighed again, and stooped to retrieve his pants.
One evening, when I was nine years old, my stepfather took me on his knee and said, "Penny, honey, haven't you ever wondered what your Mama and I do when our friends come and you are sent off to play, or to stay overnight with a friend? You've never asked, but haven't you wanted to?"
"Oh, yes, Papa! Sometimes I hear funny noises when I come back early, or before I've gone very far."
"Well, Penny, I think that it's about time you learned how we have fun. You like to play with your dolls now, but before too awfully long you may want to join us." His voice had a peculiar flat quality, like an inexperienced actor making up a scene as he went along.
I smiled then, so he wouldn't feel discouraged, and he cried out, "Harriet!"
My mother replied from the kitchen, "Just a second, John. I'm almost done with the dishes."
"All right, but hurry it up, will you?"
He then asked me to turn on his lap till I was facing him, and began to unbutton his trousers, saying, "Do you know what I have here, Penny? It is the source of your mother's greatest pleasure and the same kind of tool that forged you on the anvil of her womb." Upon this he revealed his mighty penis, fully eight inches long and an inch and a half thick, and, though I have seen both larger and smaller since, I think his was of the size best suited for a woman's pleasure.
This was, however, the first male organ I had ever seen, and I didn't really know what to make of it. I could see the power inherent in its structure, and it was .plainly a penetrating instrument, but, beyond a vague idea about urination, I knew nothing of its purpose.
"Here," he said, "take it in your hand and feel it. Doesn't that make you want to see what it's for?"
"John! What are you doing?" cried my mother as she came into the room at last.
"Only beginning to initiate Penny into the mysteries of love, my dear. Don't you think it's about time?" he accompanied this with a significantly raised eyebrow and twist of the lip. "It won't be long before she'll be able to join us at parties."
"Are you sure she's ready for it, John? She might tell...." Mama looked worried, scared.
"Darling, look at her face. Doesn't she look just fascinated by my prick? I don't think she'll tell anyone about her little lessons. If she did, she wouldn't get any more, and she's going to enjoy these an awful lot." He seemed to be speaking at least partly for my benefit, for he added, "Do you understand, Penny?"
"Oh, yes, Papa. I'll never tell anyone. Just looking at your thing there makes me feel all quivery inside. I think your lessons will be so much fun." And I leaned forward and hugged him as little girls are won't to do, pressing his engorged prick between our bellies. This made him groan and say that I should get undressed, the better to receive my instruction.
While I was doing this, he asked Mama to do so too, as he stripped himself. My mother's naked appearance did not surprise me, as I had seen her nude many times before, but his engrossed me.
His was the first male nudity I ever saw, and far from the most unpleasant. His active life, running his gas station and small farm, had kept his body trim, and though it sagged a bit here and there, it showed none of the bags and pouches of flesh I was to meet later, and had even then seen often on the beach.
When we were all naked, Papa took me on his lap again so that I faced him and, while my mother seated herself in a chair nearby to watch, pointed with his finger at my small hairless slit and asked me if I knew what that was for. I had to reply that I had no idea, but that I was quite willing to be shown.
He then began to rub with his fingertip above and around it, saying, "Your mother has a slit just like this, and that's where I put my prick when we want to have fun. You can see that there is only room in yours now for my finger, but we'll fix that soon. How does that feel?"
He gently inserted his finger until he met some obstruction, which made me hurt as he pressed upon it.
"Oh, Papa, that felt wonderful, but it hurts when you press like that. What is it? Ow! Oooo! Ow! What'd you do?"
"It's all right, Penny. That thing that blocked my finger was your hymen, a thing that always has to be broken before a girl can get any fun out of her lessons. Look, see my finger? It's bloody from doing that, now, but you'll be all right very soon, and it'll be a lot better the next time."
After a comforting cuddle, he set me down, saying he didn't want to go any further with my lessons then; he didn't want to hurt me any more. Instead, he said he would demonstrate with Mama. I curled up in a chair to watch, the pain having diminished enough to forget, as he arose and took my mother by the hand to lead her to the couch.
As she lay down, he bent to kiss her, his hands going to her full breasts, softly kneading as their mouths ground together. When he drew his mouth from hers, his tongue flowed smoothly out from between her lips, closely followed by her own, dallied a moment and tripped daintily down the column of her throat to settle on a nipple.
She accepted his loving touch readily, her moans emerging in time with the butterfly tastings of his lips and tongue. She began to writhe languorously to his lascivious nipple-mouthings, presenting her flesh to his lips as it yearned for kisses. She grasped his member as his hand stroked down her side to grip a hip while the other caressed the heavy bush surrounding her gaping vaginal chamber, so different from my own little slit. The pink blush of passion was revealed as she spread her thighs to allow his hand more intimate freedoms, became bedewed and glistening as he shifted his position to bring his lips to the pulsing target. Her breathing labored, grew harsh, as he found the twig of flesh guarding the approach to her joy and began to kiss and suck it.
She moaned aloud, tossing wildly as she gripped his head and pressed it to her, thighs clamping about his ears. He kept on till she stiffened, and, trembling, uttered a low wailing cry.
Hesitating only to cast one quick glance at me, Mama tugged him down beside her by his stiff-standing prick and rose to straddle him, saying, in a voice throaty with her passion, "You saw what he just did. Now I'll show you one way to make a man happy."
She bent over my stepfather, enfolding his organ with hands and lips, sliding her mouth over the bulbous end, moving it in and out of her mouth. I could see the pulsating motion of her cheeks as she sucked, and I leaned eagerly forward to watch him moan with delight as his muscles clenched and he gripped her by the ears, trying to hasten her movements. But rather than give him the release he so plainly longed for, she drew away and lay down beside him again, throwing one leg over his hip, working the other between his thighs.
With their legs toward me I could see his moist anvil-pounder as it approached her gaping nether mouth and was thrust within by their mutual efforts. Their ensuing plunges and cries of joy excited me so much that I tried to copy them, thrusting a finger within my slit, finding the immature nubbin of flesh, rubbing it, teasing it, trying to find some pleasure to shadow theirs. But, where they soon spasmed and cried out their attainment of joy, immediately passing into a faint, I was still too tender and sore.
My parents showed no sign of coming out of their faint, so I left my seat and moved closer. A familiar, musky scent first assailed my nostrils, one that often permeated the house after their friends had left. The sheen of their sweat caught my eye, the lights of the room reflected in the little beads of moisture standing up from skin that gleamed wetly like plastic. Dead to the world they lay, their panting breaths resembling the chugs of some fading locomotive.
I picked up my clothes and went to my room, tired. I drifted off to sleep pouting with a certain resentment of my tender years, that would keep me from my father's arms for so long.
For the next few days I was a little sore from the bursting of my hymen, so no new lessons were proposed, but by the end of the week Papa thought I might be ready for another. After we had both undressed, he took me on his lap again and tickled my hairless slit while I handled his prick-to get used to it, as he said.
After a little teasing he lifted me up and poised me over his member while Mama parted my tender lips and guided its great head between them. He lowered me then till I could feel him pressing hard against my soft tissues. I was too tight, though, for him to effect an entrance, and he had to be content with bouncing me gently upon it. Even though he could only, at best, get about half the head of it into me, it hurt.
Finally, with a sigh, he lifted me down onto his lap and said, "Well, we can't get very far tonight, that's for sure. We'll just have to keep trying, and stretch you a little bit every night, until it isn't so small any more, eh?" I agreed, and he set me down, turning to my mother to say, "I think she'll turn into a pretty capable girl, don't you?"
"I imagine so, though she would anyway, probably, without any of this teaching." She sounded bitter, disapproving. I didn't know then why she would put up with it.
Hoping to forestall an argument, I knelt in front of my stepfather and said, "Papa, will you let me try to do what Mama did before?"
He looked a little startled, but answered, "If you think you can manage it, go ahead." Mama was quiet, though I could see that she didn't like the idea.
I took his prick in my hands and bent my head to kiss it before opening my small mouth as widely as I could to try to take it in. Alas, it was just too large. I had to content myself with kissing it, laving it with my tongue, sucking on the knob as at a candied apple. My poor efforts seemed to please him greatly though, even if I couldn't hope to match my mother.
"Oh, that's good," he groaned. "Oh, Harriet, do you see what she's doing? It's as good ad you can do, I swear it! Ahhh!" And my mouth was suddenly filled with his viscid spunk, the first, though not the last, I was to taste. Its sweet-salt flavor was wholly new to me, and strange. It took years to be sure I liked it.
When my mother saw what I had done, she was far from pleased. "You scamp," she cried. "You've robbed me of him! He's only good for one shot a night, and you'd better remember that in the future!" She was furious. She thrust me away from my stepfather, and the last I saw, as I fled her wrath, were her vain efforts to arouse him again.
The next day Papa sheepishly admonished me never to let things go so far with him again.
Throughout the next three years, Mama never again had reason to complain on that score. I heeded their warnings religiously. Always, after one of the daily stretching sessions, I would serve Papa as he liked so much, preparing him for my mother's attentive demands. I improved my skills, and stretched, and strained to grow, but never again did I drain him. I wanted to, I ached to, but my mother was always waiting, eager and ready to push me aside if I seemed to be getting too greedy.
Neither did they allow me to remain when their friends came for one of their frequent visits. I wasn't ready. At the age of twelve, I was only beginning to show the first light down in my crotch, around my cunt, as I had learned it was called, and I was only able to contain about half of Papa's prick.
One day, when the guests had arrived and my stepfather had driven me to a girl friend's house to play till it was safe to come home again, I didn't enter her house, but set out immediately across the fields toward my own house, all afire with childish voyeurism.
It was a fine July day, all hot and sunny, and everyone was out in the back yard, shielded by a tall hedge from prying eyes. As I crept up to one of my favorite vantage points, a hole in the hedge, worn by years of children and pets, my hand fell upon a heel.
Someone was already there! He jumped and scrambled to his feet when I touched him, and I found myself blushing under the eyes of one of my schoolmates, a short, thin boy named Bill, with a sharp-edged, shallow face.
His eyes were bright, his mouth half-open with alarm at his discovery or excitement at the scene before him. I couldn't tell, until I looked at his crotch and saw the bulging cloth.
"Th-they've started air-ready, h-huh?" I stuttered. That wasn't the right way to start. I should be indignant, furious at finding him snooping around my house, spying on my family. I tried again. "What are you doing here? Who do you think you are to come sneaking around here like this?" I had drawn myself up in my best imitation of Mrs. Maury, the fifth grade teacher at our school.
He must have been nervous himself. His eyes were shifting about like two flies in a bottle as he whispered in reply, "I heard some noises when I was going by, and I wanted to find out what was up. They've started all right, but how the hell did you know what they would be doing?"
"I bet you've been spying on us all summer. How else could you've found out about this?"
"I have not! I was just walking by, like I said, and heard the noise."
"Hah! People don't just go walking by in the middle of a field." He squirmed. He didn't want to say what he had been doing. He wasn't up to any good, even if he wasn't spying, I thought. Then, as he turned half away from me, I saw the slingshot in his hip pocket.
I pointed. "There! I bet you were hunting rabbits or something. And I know it's not the season for that. You can only hunt them in the winter, and you know it. I'm going to tell the game warden!" I crowed. I knew how to get rid of him now.
"If you do, I'll tell everybody what I saw down there." He pointed through the hedge. "Then you'll get kicked out of school and you'll have to move and go away, and everybody'll say you're nasty people, and you won't have any friends. I know what happens to people that do things like that. My father told me."
He seemed pretty sure of himself. I flushed, able only to say, "Okay, I won't tell on you, but you'd better go away now. And don't come back!"
He turned, began to walk away, but stopped to whisper hoarsely, "I've seen enough anyway."
I couldn't watch for long after that. I stayed only long enough to see that they weren't really doing anything new, and, even though it was as fascinating as ever, I had no heart for it. Bill was on my mind. Would he keep the secret? I could only trust in his fear of the game warden, and maybe he would want to come back and see more. I didn't believe his last comment. It was too much the sour grapes kind of thing kids say when they have to give something up.
A few weeks later I was back at my hole in the hedge, feasting my wondering, curious eyes on the grown-up antics before me. I was squirming with excitement, eager to bring a finger into play and vibrate the tension in me to an aching crest, releasing it at last. I was delighting in the anticipation, my attention wholly on the backyard scene in front of me, and just beginning to shift my position to make the fingering easy.
"At it again, are they?"
I was distracted. "They often are. They've even promised me I can join them when I'm old enough." I seemed to be answering my own thoughts, but suddenly I jumped, startled, realizing. "Bill! What are you doing here? I thought you were going to stay away!"
"Oh, I thought I'd drop around and see if anything was happening. It's quite a show, you know. And I don't have that slingshot with me this time, so you can't tell the game warden on me. No excuse." He grinned. He seemed to think he had me in a bind now.
"I can still tell him about the last time!"
"He wouldn't believe you. No evidence. You can't do a thing to me now." He gloated. He was going to enjoy the show this time.
"Well, you better not tell anyway, or I'll say you did the same thing to me, and then you'll get in just as much trouble as me and my parents." I was panicky. How could a twelve-year-old girl deal with a threat like this?
A sly look crept across his face. "You shouldn't have to lie, you know. I'm pretty turned on already, just from the little bit I've seen so far, and I bet you're even more turned on. I bet you even came out here to get all excited that way." He was right, but what could I say? "Wouldn't it be a lot better if we really did it too?"
I blushed, though he really didn't surprise me. I'd expected him to think of that sooner or later. Now that he had, I found myself warming, beginning to tingle at the prospect. My father's lessons left me awfully frustrated, and my fingers were never enough. I was receptive, then, to any man who would proposition me. Even an unattractive creature like Bill could make me want him with only a few words.
He took me by the hand and pulled me down. "Come on, Penny, let's watch. You can make up your mind later."
Unexpectedly, consideration. He must have noticed my ambivalence, though I would never have expected it, and I'm still sure he had no idea of my reasons.
Nevertheless, I followed him down, stretched out upon my belly, side pressing against him as we watched the grassy lovemaking before us.
For an hour we watched the jumble of bodies weaving paths of lust between each other, collapsing, rising, collapsing again. There were only eight people there, but it seemed like many more.
Their action never seemed to end, but kept on and on.
My excitement grew, reaching epic proportions. I could tell by the twitching as Bill sought to ease the weight upon his bulging organ that it was getting to him too.
I paid him little attention when he rolled up on his side and pressured his front against me. I was engrossed in the primal scene.
My burning lust suddenly flared, tissues swelling to exude their slippery fluids. I spread my thighs to ease the sudden growth of tension, and gasped at a sudden fiery thrust that pierced me to the quick. I started, turned, found his hand ensconced between my legs, thumb massaging my clitoris, a finger inserted deeply, goosing me up to an ecstatic agony.
His finger spread the tangled hairs, smoothed the wrinkled folds to stroke me to a panting moan, drive me to reach out for his young and bulging manhood. I grasped and squeezed. He groaned in sudden pain. The pressure was too much. He drew away and dropped his pants, fell to the ground again, though on me, not beside me this time.
His wildly flailing organ soon found the entrance to my grotto, followed the un-christened path to the limits of his reach, and began to pound away. He didn't really seem to care about my pleasure, as my stepfather did about my mother's, but only for his own. As soon as I had provoked his passion, he could wait no longer, but immediately began to satisfy his lust.
It was over all too soon for me, though he seemed quite satisfied as he pulled his clothes together again. He was smug, laid at last, though at the same time he looked a little nervous, as if he were afraid I would scream at any moment, claim revenge for his liberties. He didn't believe that I had wanted it as much as he, even though I hadn't really cared who he was.
"There, now you won't have to lie if you tell on me. I won't tell, though, 'cause I want to come back and watch some more. And you better tell me when they're doing it, or I will tell. And I'm not afraid of you telling on me either. My Dad runs around all the time, and he says I'm a chip off the old block. He won't do anything to me if you tell. He'll think it's great. You just try it and see."
He had really worked himself up about it. He was sure I would want to get him in trouble.
"Don't worry, Bill. I won't tell. And I'll let you know when they're having another party." I was sad.
"What?" He'd expected anything but that. He didn't know how to handle it, hesitated, turned and left.
When he was out of sight, I lay down to sob quietly, dismayed by his reaction, knowing I would want him again. I didn't like him, but he was the only one I knew who would dare do what we had done. I could hope to get past his callousness, teach him to make love the way my parents did, let me share my mother's heights.
I didn't want to tell my parents about Bill. I knew they would worry. After all, if he were to tell, they would have to stop inviting their friends or move. However, since he kept coming around to make love and spy on their revels, and since the stretching exercises continued throughout this time and showed greater progress than ever before, I had to tell Papa about Bill and his threat. He was awfully upset, until I convinced him I could handle Bill, as I had been doing, though I didn't enjoy it much.
Bill wasn't as hurried on his later visits. He took more time, and I was able to teach him to arouse me, though not wholly. Always, as soon as I would admit him, he would surge on, carrying himself to completion long before me. The only reason he could see for foreplay was to get me horny enough to let him bang away.
Once in a while I could provoke him into a second bout, and only then did I ever reach a climax, though it was feeble compared to what I'd seen in my mother. I worried that I wasn't complete in some unknown way, though I knew I was still young and had many years before me in which things could change.
I put up with Bill till the end of that summer, always hoping that he would improve, or that I would, that he would learn patience and a gentle touch, that I would learn to respond fully. Neither of us changed, though, and I think we were both happy when school started and our meetings had to end.
Papa calmed down a little when Bill didn't try to ask me for dates, though we both wondered why. When he didn't come around to see me in the spring, when orgies were once again possible outdoors, we both wondered, but a few discreet questions revealed that he had found a new girl friend. I hoped she appreciated his talents, such as they were, more than I had, and would keep him away from me. I was glad he had no time for me.