Chapter 3
During the next few weeks Rita was often in O'Toole's company and spent exciting weekends at his isolated cottage in the scenic beauty of Killarny. Their intimate relationship was discreetly maintained and secrecy preserved. They met by arrangement on the outskirts of the city, usually at night. The manager took Rita to his luxurious O'Connell Street apartment on rare occasions, but preferred to conduct his love life in the remoteness of Whitehaven. Often, they sunbathed nude in the wooded grounds.
O'Toole had an astonishing sexual appetite and unusual capacity. Sometimes he fucked her three or four times in a single day, and was as randy by nightfall. They screwed wherever they happened to be, on the floor, the stairs, in the grass, under the shower, yielding spontaneously to overwhelming passion. Rita's succulent bottom held a special fascination for O'Toole. He wallowed in her secret flesh, seizing every opportunity to sniff and lick the sultry division of her incomparable arse. The musky odor of her intimate parts acted on his formidable prick like an aphrodisiac. Rita loved to sit on his cock and work herself energetically up and down, studying the changing expressions on John's face. She derived wanton delight in sucking his fat roll, crouching over his prone body with her buttocks grossly elevated and gobbling his savagely erect penis while he tongued the dark fissure of her cunt, squashing his face passionately into the hairy recess and gasping as the girl's tongue curled hotly round his jutting prick, letting the swollen knob plop in and out of her mouth. The proximity of his balls and pale buttocks filled her with coarse excitement, and she frequently thrust her face down past his rampant penis to kiss the thick, veined roots pulsing among the puckered ridges of skin and flesh that merged with the taut linking flesh fringing his anus. Often they achieved mutual orgasm merely by oral stimulation. The stabbing thrust of John's tongue against her inflamed clitoris aroused all Rita's smoldering passions and flayed her erotic senses until everything was blotted from her seething mind except the desire to clutch and cling and suck, and inhale the unique odor of O'Toole's masculinity while the burning sensations in her aggravated cunt grew into a wild, thrashing frenzy that became almost intolerable before dispersing in the soul-satisfying sweetness of convulsive emission. And as the spasmodic delirium spread through her pelvis and belly she coaxed the gathering fury trembling in John's near-bursting penis, watching his organ distend enormously, synchronized the torrid motions of her writhing lips, and caught the spurting deluge in her mouth, squirming and panting, her hot flesh merging with John's jerking body, her limbs twitching and shuddering violently.
That particular form of sexual expression always left her limp and trembling, but gloriously exhilarated. She was obsessed with John's penis, even when it hung slack. She liked to play with it or merely hold it, but especially to whank it slowly, rolling the foreskin right back and watching the knob pulsing and expanding fiercely. She often sucked it from the completely flaccid state to a condition of incredible rigidity. But her greatest thrill came with the exquisite delight of fornication from behind, when he forced his great rod with controlled deliberation past the splayed folds of her vulva and slowly intruded into the glistening furrow of her quim, hugely expanding the softly throbbing funnel and rapturously prolonging the initial thrust, boring relentlessly in while her clutching cunt warmly engulfed the regal mass.
O'Toole preferred to fuck her dog fashion. He liked to watch the rippling movements of her bottom as he shagged, and he usually increased the spread of her vagina with his thumbs in order to see the pistoning strokes of his churning prick. Rita shared his enthusiasm because that method ensured maximum penetration with a minimum of effort. Another favored position was for Rita to sprawl on a table or any suitable item of furniture, lying on her back with legs wide apart, the vulnerability of her vagina affording easy access. Invariably, before putting his cock into the inviting gulf, O'Toole indulged in an orgy of licking and sucking, clasping her thighs while Rita raised her legs and bent her knees, sometimes laying her limbs over his shoulders. The pressure of his lips against her contracting cunt tremendously increased her sexual agitation. She could take all the cock O'Toole could slap into her and still crave more. She was his absolute sexual slave, just as she had been Mike's; she would have eaten his shit if he'd asked her.
O'Toole was equally lustful and durable. He fucked her in a. dozen different positions, and usually ended up fucking her mouth, not with the uncouth frenzy of an amateur but with disciplined control, deriving maximum pleasure and catering fully to Rita's carnal delight, pushing his cock very slowly in and pulling out as leisurely, drawing back until his fat knob pulsed between the girl's sensual lips and her tongue probed hotly into the rounded aperture, then thrusting in again, inch by torrid inch, filling her mouth completely and feeling the savage displacement of his penis flattening her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
Rita liked to squat between his widespread legs, on her knees, and work her fingers deep into the crack of his bare arse while she sucked him off. The hot blood of his sperm in her mouth merely increased her moaning excitement. She loved it, loved the smell, the potent strength, the intimate closeness, the feeling of being one with O'Toole, sucking the spunk from him, sharing his body and the very sap of his life's blood. Often, when she felt him coming, she pulled her head back and held his jerking cock with the wet knob an inch from her mouth, and thrust out her lower lip to form a cup to trap and catch the milky gush.
She wanted him to fuck her arse, but her anus simply would not accommodate O'Toole's great stalk. He tried Vaseline jelly, hair cream, spittle, lubricated his knob and the rim of her tight arsehole with semen, but could never penetrate beyond the tortured rim and invariably creamed in the trembling crack, spilling his load between the luscious cheeks.
Every week there was extra money in her pay-packet, and O'Toole was generous in other ways. He bought her clothes, expensive underwear, and gave her costume jewelry—never anything costly, but nice. And for the time being Rita was content.
The accident happened about 8:30 on a Friday evening. O'Toole had business in Dublin and agreed to take Rita with him for the weekend. He owned a new E-type Jaguar car and was anticipating extending its full power over a long run.
Speed terrified Rita, but she refrained from complaint as O'Toole drove the speedometer needle past the hundred mark, hurtling round bends with tires screeching. He was enjoying himself, oblivious of Rita's strain and tension. Eyes closed, she clung on desperately. A few miles from Dublin, as O'Toole negotiated a tricky turn, suddenly there was a large truck directly ahead, cutting into the main road from a concealed track. O'Toole had no chance to avoid it. He braked hard, the Jag slowed, bucked wildly, struck the truck's back end and somersaulted amid gushing flames and the jangling sounds of tortured metal.
Rita, struck on the head, was thrown clear and lay unconscious, bleeding from superficial cuts. O'Toole died instantly with the steering wheel crushed into his chest. Fire charred parts of his body before help arrived. What remained of his corpse was salvaged from the inferno. Rita, conscious but dazed and confused, sobbing hysterically, was taken into a nearby house, a sprawling residence set well back from the road in its own grounds, and screened by tremendous trees. Lights were blazing and the place rocked with noise. Pop music blared. Groups of young people gathered in the elaborate entry. Foremost was a tall brunette, a slinky type with small, pointed breasts and a weedy figure. She was neither good-looking nor physically attractive, but she radiated self-assurance and spoke in a richly cultured voice.
Rita, in pain and still dazed, was helped into the house past gaping guests—college students by the look of them—and laid on a sumptuous bed in an upstairs room. Somebody sent for a doctor. By the time Rita fully regained consciousness the doctor had arrived, delivered his diagnosis, and left. When Rita opened her eyes everything was blurred and she could hardly see. Her head was bandaged and ached abominably. The bedroom seemed gigantic, and every object was remote.
Presently, her eyes focused and she became aware of movement, of a slim figure bending over her. She tried to sit up, cried out and clasped her head.
"Lie back," a pleasant voice ordered. "It's all right now. Don't be afraid."
Remembering, Rita shivered. She asked where she was.
"Swansdale," the brunette told her. "Near Dublin. You've been in an accident, but everything's all right now. The police were here. They want a statement from you. I told them to come back tomorrow. I'm Pearl Delaney. My folks own this place. They're away right now, hence the wild party. Parents can be a frightful bore."
"The driver?" Rita asked. "The man with me in the car-?"
"Dead, darling. Killed outright. Go ahead and cry, get it out of your system. I'll leave you alone for a while." Pearl went out, smiling.
Rita felt sleepy. Her eyelids were heavy. The next time she opened her eyes the bedroom was in darkness. She moved her arm and something crashed to the floor. The door opened. Subdued lighting flooded the room. Pearl stood smiling, a clean towel folded over her arm. She held a glass containing a milky fluid.
"So you're awake at last," she said. "Drink this, then we'll get you cleaned up and find you some clean clothes. I'm a beanpole, but some of mother's things will fit you."
The house was quiet, the party over. Rita's headache was much less acute.
"If you feel up to it I'll show you where everything is," Pearl told her.
"But I can't stay here-"
"Why not, for God's sake? At least for tonight. You've had a nasty experience. I want you to stay. You'll be company for me. The bathroom's through here. You can get undressed in here. Don't be shy."
Pearl left the room. Rita got off the bed. She felt empty, hollow, her head clouded and confused, grief like a cold fist clamped round her heart. "Big John," dead- She felt numbed, acutely apprehensive as she slowly undressed. She was in the act of removing her jeans when Pearl abruptly re-entered the bedroom. Rita's nudity had a profoundly disturbing effect on the brunette. A flush crept up from Pearl's slender neck and into her sallow cheeks. She licked her thin lips, brought her thighs together. When Rita went into the bathroom, Pearl followed her and sat on a bentwood chair with her arms resting on the chair back. Her intent stare was embarrassing.
Rita got under the shower and turned on the faucets, forgetting the bandage round her head. When it shifted she removed it, discovered it hid a large bruise, nothing more serious. She discarded it, reached for the soap. Pearl talked incessantly. Eventually, glowing and refreshed, Rita groped for a towel and emerged from the shower. Pearl had twisted round on the chair and occupied it conventionally. She had the towel in her hands.
"Come here, darling, and I'll dry your back," she invited. Rita approached, stood close, allowed the brunette to draw her nearer. Pearl applied the towel vigorously, and on the pretext of drying Rita roved her hands lewdly over the girl's body, stroking and delving, obviously working herself up into a chronic state of nervous excitement. Several times her lips brushed Rita's warm, damp skin. Her slim fingers lingered on the robust swell of Rita's buttocks, explored between her thighs, timidly at first then bolder when Rita didn't object. Pearl's breathing became rapid. Her fumbling fingers trembled. Deliberately she kissed Rita's bottom.
"You're very lovely," she said wistfully. "God, if only I had a body like yours. Just touching you is a divine thrill, darling Rita."
Again yielding to impulse, she embraced Rita's hips and kissed her arse, then pressed her face avidly into the wet cleavage. Startled, Rita swore and twisted away when she felt the older girl's hand slide toward the vale of her wet cunt; but she experienced a distinct thrill and a tightness in her vagina when Pearl's fingertips touched the soft fissure.
Pearl stood up. She moved round, got behind Rita, reached round and cupped both the young girl's breasts.
"They're gorgeous!" Pearl declared. "You have superb tits, darling. I envy you. Don't be alarmed, Rita dear. I'm easily excited, very sexy, especially with— God! I could eat you."
She kissed the nape of Rita's neck, then laughed mockingly when Rita squirmed away.
"I have to go out for a while," she said. "You'd best get some rest. I've laid out some things for you, and a nightdress, although I prefer to sleep in the raw myself. Everybody's gone and we're quite alone except for the servants, and they occupy the basement. So relax."
She left the room. Rita put on the powder blue nightdress, then stretched out on the large bed. She had no illusions concerning Pearl, although her experience of dykes was limited. For the moment she was content to let things fall into place any way they would. She felt sick and utterly exhausted, and every time she thought of John O'Toole lying out there the knot of grief rising into her throat threatened to choke her.
After a while she succeeded in relaxing her body, but her mind remained active. She tried reading, watched television, wandered downstairs and explored until she located the kitchen and an enormous refrigerator. With a plate laden with cold chicken, crusty bread, and salad, and carrying a bottle of milk, she returned to the bedroom, flopped into a deep armchair and watched television while she ate. Despite the entertainment she felt acutely lonely and utterly miserable.
She went back to bed, tossed and turned until eventually she fell asleep. But it was a shallow, troubled sleep, and when Pearl entered the bedroom, long after midnight, Rita was wide awake, staring at the starlit sky through the wide window.
Pearl switched the lights on. She drew the window drapes together and locked the door. Rita, full of self-pity, welcomed the intrusion.
"Actually, this is my bedroom," Pearl explained. "I could have put you in one of the spare rooms, but I thought you looked so pale and dejected you might prefer to have somebody to talk to. It's always better when you have someone to share problems with. And, to be honest, I'm feeling a bit low myself. There's plenty of room—"
"It's your bed," Rita said. "I wouldn't want to deprive you. And I am terribly lonely."
Pearl smiled. She began to undress, talking all the time, stripped off completely and padded barefoot around the room, quite naked but showing no hint of embarrassment. The pale cones of her high breasts were elegantly formed, her buttocks small and firm. She moved with a lithe, sinuous grace, like a sleek cat. A great bush of glossy brown hair concealed the dimpled recess of her vagina. She bathed and, still naked, presently climbed into bed beside Rita, leaving the lights on but dimmed. Rita welcomed the comforting warmth of the older girl's body, and remained passive, unprotesting, when Pearl raised the short nightdress and began rubbing and fondling the exquisite mounds of her breasts. She found the gentle caresses rather stimulating and soothing, and involuntarily co-operated, prompted by vague inclinations she didn't understand. The room was warm, and when Pearl whispered, urging her to remove the nightdress, Rita tugged it over her head without question.
The subdued lighting emphasized the slenderness of Pearl's nude body and accentuated the shadowy contours of Rita's voluptuousness. Pearl put her slim arms round Rita and snuggled closer, placed a hand behind Rita's head and gently but firmly pressed the girl's face into the shallow depression between her own white throat and pouting tits, coaxing and whispering until Rita softly stroked and kissed the jutting cones. Caressing fingers moved promptly down over Rita's stomach to her mound, found the slit of her relaxed cunt and eagerly explored it. Feeling restless and sexually aroused, suddenly very close to Pearl even though they were strangers, Rita obligingly opened her legs. She squeezed the small, hard tits, traced wet kisses across their blue-veined whiteness, and eventually sucked the prominent nipples, anticipating the young dyke's craving.
Pearl sighed happily. She mauled Rita's breasts, crushing her face into the soapy perfumed ovals, squeezed the nipples, pulled them, and took each in turn into her hot mouth; meanwhile her left hand groped between Rita's thighs, probing her quim, delving into it, manipulating clitoris and vulva expertly. Her eyes almost shut, she captured Rita's right hand and conveyed it to her vagina, spreading her legs wide and raising the left one slightly to facilitate access to her hairy minge. The instant Rita's fingers made contact with the tight gash Pearl closed her thighs convulsively, forcing the intruding hand into her softly yielding fissure.
She was dainty, down there, and extremely sensitive. She voiced a prolonged moan of anguish and commenced squirming and thrashing about, begging Rita to go down on her, to eat her. Suddenly Pearl heaved up and flopped across Rita's belly as if trying to mount her. Her mouth trapped Rita's, and she thrust her tongue repeatedly between the younger girl's lips, blurting crude appeals, still pulling and probing at Rita's cunt. Rita, fiercely aroused, kept massaging Pearl's palpitating groove, until finally Pearl flung the bed covers off and struggled to a kneeling posture astride Rita's waist but facing her feet. In that gross position her firm little arse nestled against Rita's luscious tits and her hairy quim adhered with suction-like cohesion to Rita's rounded belly. Hoarsely, impatiently, she urged Rita to bend her knees. Her own feet intruded under Rita's armpits. The moment Rita complied Pearl lowered her torso and, clasping Rita's thighs, dipped her head and thrust her face into the quivering juncture of thighs and cunt, dragging her tongue in the moist ruttish split like a cat licking cream. The acute forward stretch thrust out her bottom, and as she squatted with her mouth clamped against Rita's quim and her pointed tits distorted from pressing into Rita's lower abdomen, her vulva was obscenely defined close to Rita's face. Every detail was visible-the shadowy folds and grayish, writhing lips below the crinkly brown pit of her slightly protruding arsehole.
Her darting tongue curled into every crevice of Rita's quivering cunt, fluttering, fiercely tantalizing, agitating the thickened clitoris and driving Rita frantic. The proximity of alluring arse and shaggy cunt inspired a lustful urge to wallow in carnal flesh just as Pearl was wallowing in hers—and Rita extended her neck and tentatively nosed into the provocative little split. Her lips touched the pouting quim, and Pearl promptly squatted lower, forcing her vagina against Rita's mouth, writhing furiously. Rita felt neither disgust nor revulsion, only the urgent need for sexual relief however crude and bizarre. Her mind was still shocked by the tragedy, susceptible to any suggestion that combined comfort with release in any form. Sex was a safety valve, and Pearl the vital factor, the link who, by indulging her own vices, provided the outlet so necessary to Rita in her present state of mind.
Like animals they heaved and surged in carnal embrace, heads bobbing, disordered hair flopping, mouths drooling, twisted, clamoring, tongues stabbing and flickering in a mutual glissando of slavering movements, eyes wide staring one instant and half closed the next, and finally jerking and mewling in the sweet throes of copious orgasm. And as Pearl came and her prolonged juices wetted Rita's crimsoned face, the younger girl experienced an emission as shatteringly satisfying as any she had ever known, a climax so powerfully convulsive she cried out sharply, gouging her deeply embedded fingertips still further into the brunette's flesh and squalling her muffled outcry into the saturated gulf of cunt and bottom, then sobbed in the backlash of cruel reaction. She was lost in the swirling void of self-pity, condemnation, and absolute bewilderment.