Chapter 5
Two weeks passed, and instead of Mike Barton diminishing in his desire for Laura's still somewhat virginal body, his passion seemed to grow. And with it grew a rather monstrous young appetite for emotionally abusing her. He told her the most outrageous tales-sometimes she believed they were lies, and sometimes she wondered-about his exploits with the girls of his high school, and sundry females of the city. It was difficult for Laura to believe that a seventeen-year-old male could possibly have experienced what he had, but there was always some nagging hint of truth to what he said.
He told her how he had seduced girls as innocent as the farts of God, how he had turned their tight little slits into lewd and drooling cracks. All any young girl needed, he philosophized, like a teen-aged de Sade, was a banana-sized prick laboring in her cunt to change her overnight from madonna to harlot.
Laura knew only too well the truth of what he said.
After all, she had been changed herself from a prancing little know-nothing who needed her twat feathered, to a wanton who now could feel every pore of her body grown erotic. Like one of Pavlov's infamous dogs, she had a cunt which itched and slathered every afternoon when the time neared for Mike to come to her with his prick stiffened for pleasure.
But the mind-and the libidinal heart-plays tricks on one. In her reckless fantasies, she began to believe that Mike loved her. It is always difficult for the female of the species to think correctly, with a well-fed pussy, and she foolishly mistook the lusty hard-ons with which he reamed her oily cunt for valentines of romance. After all, she had never in her life really had a sweetheart, and now to have a half-grown adolescent coming to her every day to lick and fuck that well of loneliness between her legs was enough to unbalance the most sane of prim heads.
But it was not until another fateful Saturday, two weeks after their first blazing screw, that the truth came home to Laura with the impact of a mailed fist.
"You're almost as good a fuck as that sexy sister of yours," Mike said, as they lay in the afterglow of one of their best fornications. As a matter of fact, it had been their best, in Laura's opinion. She had spasmed until her voice was a strangled, hoarse gasp in her throat. And when Mike had shot his glut of steaming sperm into her, she had used her vaginal muscles to squeeze his throbbing prick into its final rapture.
And now to hear him say that he had fucked Beverly, and that she was a better fuck!
"My sister?" she stammered, thickly. "I don't believe you!"
He grinned and made her eyes glance, with his, down to the sprawl of her thighs where his large, half-soft prick was still lodged obscenely into the parted muck of her cunt.
"How can you look at the way my cock is stuck into your hole and doubt that I could have done the same thing to your sister, good-looking as she was. Hell, she fucked everything on legs in this town. The time I had her, I had to stand in line."
"When!?"
"Last summer. You remember when she was here. What do you think she was doing all those long hours you were working your pure little ass off in the library?"
"She was here, at home, studying the script of a movie she was to have a bit part in."
Mike's smile widened into a harsh grin. "She was studying all right-studying the cock-size of me and four of my high school buddies. We fucked her one afternoon right here with the shades pulled down. All of us are hung like studs, and that cunt of hers accommodated us three or four times apiece. Never saw such a hot bitch . . . glutton for big pricks . . . her hole looked like two slabs of raw liver by the time we-"
"Stop it! I don't want to hear!"
He grinned again. "You mean you don't want to hear how much better she was than you-or how much prettier."
"Stop!"
"I'll even tell you why she was better. Her cunt was hotter, wetter, tighter, deeper. And she talked to us while we fucked her. There's not a sailor on earth who could come close to imitating what she said. And to have a beautiful, stacked doll talk like that to you while you're pumping eight or nine inches to her-"
"Get out! Get out of here!!"
"Your sis is a beautiful whore, baby-that's all I'm saying."
"GET OUT!"
He stared at her for a moment, his cheeks blushing red with scorn and disgust. Then he crawled arrogantly away from her, his oversized, softening cock slipping with a sucking noise between her bruised and swollen labia.
"Cool off," he husked. "By tomorrow you'll be ready for another good fuck."
"Go to hell, you vain little clod!"
He thrust his long, muscled legs into his jeans and grinned emotionlessly at her.
"How long do you think that shaggy puss of yours can live without my twanger? This time tomorrow you'll be smelling my ass and licking my balls to get me to satisfy you."
She took one last savage breath, her eyes blazing with hate. "Motherfucker!" she screamed.
When he was gone, she buried her head in the pillows and sobbed out her hatred for both of them-for the male who takes without love, and for the female who lets him!
But even as she cried, she could feel the distant, teasing itch deep inside her lickerish cunt.
He was right about tomorrow.