Chapter 10
Dee Oliver gave her a lift to town, and didn't ask questions about why Jill wasn't with Steve. They talked about painting their houses, and the coming calf crop, and how the price of beef was holding, and they interspersed the ranch talk with woman talk.
"Thanks again," Jill said, when Dee drove into the main street. "I can get by fine from here."
Her neighbor looked sharply at her. "If you really need anything, Jill ..."
"I'm just fine," Jill insisted, and kept the smile fixed until Dee drove away. Then she walked straight up to the gray Buick still parked where she'd left it the night before. Aaron or his men must have seen it there, but nobody touched it. So she climbed inside and was just putting the key into the ignition when a man's hand appeared on the door.
Jill flinched; the car keys rattled; she said, "Boyce! You-kind of spooked me."
He peered down into the car. "Nice; I think I've seen this car around town before."
"It's not mine," she said. "I'm just using it."
"Looking for money to pay the bank? I'm not fooling, Jill; I mean to start foreclosure proceedings forty-eight hours from now."
She remembered him on the phone yesterday, and how he'd big-mouthed their affair for Steve to hear. "You'd better start them from long distance."
He laughed. "Now, now-are you threatening me? With those photos, perhaps? Not since your husband came home; everybody in the county knows what a violent temper he has. Why, I understand he got into a drunken brawl just last night."
Jill said, "Glad you know about his temper, and his ability to break up things and people. Maybe you'd also like to know that your big, gloating mouth already broke our little secret. There's an extension in our barn, and he listened in on your phone call yesterday. That's why he was smashed and fighting mad. You want to bet I won't use those pictures now?"
His face went pale. "I-you're just saying this. He might even try to do something ..."
She stuck the blade deeper and twisted it, now that she'd found a soft spot. "The price just went up, Boyce: twenty-five thousand, above the mortgage."
Mopping a handkerchief at his face, he said, "No; I can't-damn it, I won't. That's a holdup, and my bank-"
"Add your wife to the pot," Jill said, "and your little daughter. Besides, that ought to leave you a fat profit, anyway; twenty-five from ninety leaves sixty-five."
He stared. "N-ninety? I don't know what you're talking about. If you have some idea of doing-" Boyce clicked his teeth shut on the rest of it, and he had control of himself again. Coldly, he said to her, "If circumstances warrant, I'll just have to chance those pictures that your hired hand took; if he took any. Before you blackmail me for that kind of money, you'd better bring me a sample photo."
He'd called her bluff, or part of it. Jill kept her voice steady. "Why not? There are several."
"Soon," Boyce said. "Within the time you have left."
"Count your own time," she said. "Steve might be looking for you right now. Maybe I'll have him bring you the picture."
"You are a rotten little bitch," he said.
"I think you're sweet, too." Jill let the Buick into gear and spun his hand off the door. Chin up, she drove down the street and turned the corner, just as if she knew where she was going.
She was through the fairgrounds gate before she pulled off to one side and parked. Putting her forehead down on the steering wheel, she let the tears flow unchecked. Oh, damn, she thought; she wasn't made for threats and intrigue, and she didn't like people hating her.
Dabbing at her eyes with a bandanna, she sat up and looked around to see if anyone had noticed her. Two men walked by and turned into the 4-H building, and there was a tractor pulling a trailer filled with manure crossing by the horse barns; nobody was staring at Mrs. Steve Devlin making a fool of herself. Oh, well, she thought; scratch one lover. She could definitely write off Boyce Pittman as a man who'd never warm her bed again.
And that left Aaron. Even if Steve didn't come home, that still left Aaron, until he tired of her and moved on somewhere else, or to someone else. She didn't kid herself about that. Aaron would say thank you and turn away, whenever the mood struck him; nothing she, or any other woman, could do would hold him one second longer than he wanted to stay. Jill considered; did she really want Aaron for any more than a sexual fling?
Maybe not even that, now. She was afraid of him now, and that might turn it all off. It was possible that the almost hypnotic spell was broken by what he'd had done to Steve last night, and Jill decided that she would only go to him for business. It might be better to use the phone, at that.
Restless, at loose ends, she climbed out of the Buick and walked past the closed fair buildings, the arts and crafts house, the huge shed where Grange halls built their exhibits. The beef barns were empty, of course, and the hog pens; come fair time, they'd be noisy with hectic activity, spilling over with stock and kids.
Her eyes blurring again, Jill wandered across the grounds, turned from the playground swings and just kept walking, head down and trying to see a way out of her troubles. When she looked up again, she was standing at the hay barn. It was mostly empty now, she knew, except for the far corner where several tons of oat straw were stored as stall bedding. She walked that way, moving slowly, without spirit. Instead of her husband helping, pitching in to take a fair share of the load, Steve had gone off on a tangent, maddened by her laying Boyce. The ranch was getting too heavy for her to carry alone, and very soon, she'd have to do something about it.
Leaning against a high wall of bales, Jill plucked a stem to chew on. She moved along the stacked straw, just walking because she had no place to go. And when she heard the sound of low voices, Jill stopped and looked around. Nobody in sight, she thought, and then the laughter rang sweetly out. Bending just a little, Jill peered through an opening in the bales, a rectangular window made by careless stacking of the straw.
She saw the girl, sitting on the bale and leaning back in an utterly feminine, provocative position. The girl was dressed in a simple T-shirt and cutoff jeans; she had on boots and her hair was deep red, highlighted by paler browns. Her eyes were a direct blue and her face was well-freckled. The hair was worn in short bangs over her forehead and falling softly in waves over her ears and down to the base of her neck in back.
She said to someone Jill couldn't see, "Aren't you afraid I'll scream and run away?"
Jill stared at the generous, soft mouth untouched by lipstick, at the tan that went down into the T-shirt, darker gold freckles scattered through it. The girl was so young and so naturally lovely. Jill's heart gave a little leap, and she thought, Oh, no; this can't be Sherry Pittman!
Then the man moved into Jill's line of vision, and she bit her lip as he said, "No, I'm not afraid. And I don't think you are, Sherry. If you were, you'd already be gone, giggling away like a scared kid. But you're not a kid, are you? You're a small woman." , The girl's little, braless breasts lifted when she took a deep breath. "I'm fourteen years old. Doesn't that make me a baby to you?"
"No way," Steve Devlin said, standing near but not touching her. "You've been a woman since you were about eleven, I'd say."
Sherry Pittman smiled; her teeth were small and even. "Nobody else tells me that. Nobody else ever saw it."
"They don't know how to look," Steve said. "I do. I remember you from before I went to Vietnam, years ago. I thought you were sexy and beautiful then, but you've grown into a sexier, even lovelier woman since."
Sherry lowered her red-brown lashes, and Jill felt a pang of envy, just watching the miniature seductress at work. The girl was so adorable, such a delightful combination of child and woman. Sherry said, "Am I really sexy?"
"Every inch," Steve said, and now his hand lifted, moved to softly touch her cheek, to brush lingering fingertips down the richness of her sunset hair. "And you know it, girl. You knew very well that I'd follow you in here."
Her smile brightened. "I hoped you would. And now what?"
He dropped his hand. "I already closed off this little room in the straw stacks. We're alone, and now I'll take off your clothes."
Jill could hear the girl catch her breath sharply. "And-and yours, too?"
"Of course." Steve said. "Then we'll make love."
Sherry sat up on the bale, her hands together and her eyes down. She said, "Does it matter if I never-did it before? I mean, older men are supposed to have this hangup about doing it to virgins."
Steve didn't hesitate; his voice flowed smoothly on. "I'm glad you are. It will be good, being your first man."
"Don't think I'm dumb, or something. I know how it's supposed to go, everything that happens. I know from sex education classes and from my horses, so I'm not just stupid. I was-well, all the boys who try to paw me are just boys. I've been waiting for the chance to do it with a man, but they've all been scared to try me. I'm so glad you're not scared; it seems like I've been waiting forever to get started. For a month now, I've been taking my mom's pills, just in case. So you needn't worry about getting me pregnant."
"I wasn't worried," Steve said, and Jill stared wide-eyed through her peephole, "because I intend to lay you anyhow. I want to screw you, pretty little woman, and that's all that counts."
"Oh, wow," Sherry said, and stood up suddenly, her pale, freckled hands gripping the bottom of her T-shirt. "I dig that kind of upfront talk, man. Oh, Steve-let's both get undressed at the same time, so I-I won't chicken out."
"All right," he said, and Jill drew back from the hay, straightened up and decided to break it up. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue and discovered with surprise that her fists were tightly clenched.
Did she want to break in on them?
Shuddering, her breath ragged in her throat, her nipples pushing strongly against the material of her shirt, Jill chewed her lower lip. Maybe not right away, she thought; she had never seen anyone screwing, never actually watched a man and a woman make it together. Even though this particular man was her husband, and the woman was only a little girl, Jill still felt a desire to watch it; just for a little while.
Leaning back to her view tunnel, she saw Steve peeling off his boots and coming out of his shirt. Looking over at Sherry Pittman, she watched the girl whip off her shirt and saw the gorgeous little tits, shaped just so, delectable little mounds with beautiful nipples rising from their creaminess, pink nipples fully erect.
Sherry was staring, too; her eyes were fixed upon Steve Devlin as he climbed out of his pants and his penis poked out through the buttons of his shorts. Jill saw the young girl tremble, saw her force her shaking fingers to pull the zipper on her cutoff jeans.
Sherry wore pants, simple white nylon snuggies that outlined every appetizing crease and every symmetrical curve of her lower body. Jill saw that she was far from physically mature, but with a marvelous hint of the lushness to come, with just the beginnings of a ripeness that had to turn on every male who saw it.
When the girl stepped out of her panties and stood erect again, Jill stared almost hungrily at the flawless young skin, the satiny perfection of a milk-white skin brushed with roses. Sherry's hips were slim and her tummy flat, a gentle rising that started from below her delicate navel and culminated in the lovely mound of her pussy.
Jill ignored Steve; she could not take her eyes from the naked body of the young girl, and now her gaze was fastened to the center of attraction, that hairy little pubic mound. It was a work of art, the creases of each slim thigh outlining its shape, the light growth of reddish hair merely accenting the pink labia. The line of her slit was clean, gently curved, adorable in the purity and the daintiness of its texture.
Then Steve couldn't be ignored, for he was moving toward the girl, his shirt in one hand, and his fully aroused penis throbbing in front of him. Sherry looked up from the male organ then, and looked instead into Steve's eyes, with a gaze so direct, so honest and childishly trusting, that it was a gift unto itself.
Steve spread his shirt upon the hay bale, and Sherry stood waiting, waiting. She looked so very small next to the massive body of Jill's husband that she was afraid Steve might hurt the child, crush her. His penis looked huge when compared to that tiny, elegant little pussy, almost hairless and so far unscrewed.
He placed both hands upon the smooth shoulders and looked down into the elfin face, into the trusting blue eyes, and said to Sherry, "I'll be gentle; I'll be very gentle, darling."
The girl shivered, and the tips of her breasts moved. She said, "I know it hurts a little. I already know that, but it has to hurt when you grow up."
He urged her tenderly back until she sat on the shirt, and said to her, "Lean back on your elbows, Sherry, and spread your legs. That's right, beautiful, sexy girl-oh, yes. What a lovely cunt; I've never seen a cunt so lovely."
Sherry sighed, and Jill sighed with her; Jill clenched her thighs tightly together and pressed the cones of her aching breasts hard into the hay. She stared entranced at the scene before her, and thought that if her husband didn't go down on his knees to that exquisite little pussy, he was out of his head.
He did just that, sinking to the earth and kissing her knees as his deft and knowing hands stroked her thighs softly, teasingly. Steve said, "I'm going to make it easier for us, darling; before we screw, I'm going to make love to you orally. I'm going down on you, to taste that sweet cunt, to eat you and make you have orgasm. When I do, Sherry, you react just the way you feel-wiggle or hold my head or kick, or push against my face-anything. Just let yourself go."
Never, Jill thought, holding to the outside straw bales; never did he tell me that, and he never went down on me, either-not in nine years of marriage did he put his face in there between my thighs. Then she forgot herself in the vivid identification of what was happening.
Steve's head lowered, and his caressing hands moved over the girl's sleek hips, moved down to her finely shaped buttocks, and held there as he kissed her thighs, top and inside, one leg after the other. Jill glanced up at Sherry's face; it was held far back with the chin high and her eyes closed, that rich hair hanging down, and there was a dreamy half-smile upon her lips.
Then Steve moved to her throat, stretching himself up and across the arched body to kiss her there. His tongue darted out to lick the pink nipples, and Jill could plainly see the ripple that moved over Sherry's entire body. He kissed down the slight rib cage and settled to probe his tongue into the girl's belly button. Sherry made a hushed, moaning noise, and arched to him, her hands fluttering helplessly .
He was into her crotch immediately, burying his face into Sherry's lightly feathered mound, and although Jill couldn't see exactly the moves he was making now, she knew that his tongue was working into those tight but eager lips, that he was probing into the narrow vulva to taste the inner juices of that fresh, unused pussy.
The girl's head lifted, swung forward, and her legs did the same; Sherry's head bobbed loosely on her neck, but her legs curled up and around Steve's shoulders, and her pelvis was grinding, surging into his face. And now she had her fingers worked into Steve's hair, holding him frantically to the heavings and squirmings of her wildly stimulated clitoris.
Jill knew exactly how the girl felt; she had gone through her own initial experience only days before, with Aaron Mercer's experienced mouth bringing her to the crests of delights she had never before known. Now she was one with this lovely, excited girl, sharing the experience with her.
"Oh, man-oh, man!" Sherry was panting. "I'm-I'm freaking out! Do-do it to me, darling-Steve, darling!"
His hands cupped the small, glossy cheeks of her churning ass, and his face was buried deeply into that satiny crotch, eating and licking and sucking. Jill dug her fingers into the straw bales, feeling a vicarious carnal bliss as the girl obviously reached her climax and cried out.
"S-steve-I-something's happening to me!
Oh-I'm coming apart-I can't stand it-I'm dying!"
He groaned into her pussy and continued to work at it, to devour that tender and honeyed warmth, and Sherry squeaked, "Oh! I can't hold it back-oh, I can't! Please-please-I might pee!"
And the girl shuddered, her body vibrating like a guitar string. Hunching weakly, she fell back, letting go of his head and going flat upon her shoulder blades on the bale of hay. It was only moments before Steve lifted his head and began to lick his way back up that supine body, his hotly suctioning mouth pausing at a pixie breast while his hand guided the head of his inflamed and already lubricated penis into the wet, relaxed vulva exposed so sweet and helpless for him.
Her eyes trembled open, and Steve said down to them, "You're juicy now, open and ready so soon after your first orgasm. Just stay loose, darling, and let me work it on into you-ahh-hot, wet and so hot I can't believe it-just relax, Sherry, and don't fight it."
Jill watched as the head of his penis pushed into the scarlet labia; the naked lips stretched to let it in, and as Steve rolled his ass, the swollen glans vanished steadily into the girl's vagina.
His cock hesitated, probed, and Jill heard the girl gasp; then Steve pressed forward with a sudden lunge, and the girl said loudly, "Oh!" but that was all, and the staff of his rod slipped on up inside the narrow sheath of her vagina. The hymen was torn, and Sherry Pittman could lay claim no longer to being a virgin, even if she had wanted to. She was being fucked, and her delicate ass hiked, wiggled, and those smooth pussylips took the first hard prick into their gates.
Jill chewed her lips and clutched the bales; her breasts were now flattened against the straw and she had to back away for fear of maybe toppling the stack over on them as they screwed. Sherry's arms and legs were wrapped around him now, and Steve held to her ass as he slid his penis in and out of that gleaming pussy. His balls swung into the hairless crack of her ass, and he burrowed his prong to the hilt with every hungry, driving stroke.
Sherry was losing her cherry to an expert, Jill thought, to a dedicated man who was concentrating upon providing the girl as much or more rapture as he was getting. He ground his pelvis so that his shaft would caress her clitoris, and he packed the head of it deeply to excite the vaginal depths.
"Darling," he groaned, "oh, darling baby girl-I'm letting it all go-I'm coming inside you-coming-coming!"
"Do it! Do it! Do it!" Sherry cried. "I'm coming, too!"
And suddenly they were locked together, immobile as two marble statues, his penis rigid inside her static vagina, and Jill knew the pure beauty of such a moment, that matchless moment in eternity when a man and a woman mix and blend their orgasms.
Tactfully, as quietly as possible, Jill backed away from her peephole. Her own vagina was throbbing, and the ache in her erectile nipples was torture, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She had seen Sherry Pittman deflowered, after first being eaten, and the nectar of her virginal pussy sipped.
Weak-kneed, conscious of the flame raging inside her own body, Jill made her way out of the hay barn and back across the playground. There she stopped to lean her feverish cheek against the cool iron support of a child's swing set, and turned her forehead to soothe it also.
There was something wrong with her, she was certain; more than simply coming into her sensual maturity, as Aaron claimed. All her life, Jill had been reasonably straight and sensible; if there had been anything twisted in her subconscious mind, she hadn't had the slightest hint of it. And now-now, she was a thoroughly confused woman, because she had not only stood idly by and watched her husband screw a fourteen-year-old cherry, but she had been a rapt and willing spectator, as excited as if the act was happening to her. If that wasn't offbeat and weird, she didn't know of anything that was.
Shaky, Jill left the playground and walked quickly back to where she'd parked the car. She reached for the door handle and pulled back her hand. Jojo was sitting in the car.
His face was a mess, the eyebrows cut and puffed, his mouth misshapen. But his little eyes were emotionless. He asked, "You find him?"
Jill said, "Find w-who?"
He climbed slowly, ponderously, from the car and propped a thick elbow on its top. "Mr. Mercer says call him."
"I will," Jill promised, and was glad when Jojo shambled away. Fumbling at the key, she finally got the Buick started and drove off, heading home because she didn't know where else to go.