Chapter 2
Janice Danfield curled all five-feet-four inches of her pert sixteen-year-old little body tightly together inside her oversized sleeping bag, shivering in the sudden chill of tropical night, though it was not a degree less than sixty on the quiet darkened Caribbean beach. Danny was a couple of feet away, further from the dying coals of the fire than she, for he had insisted that she, being a girl, should have the best — and warmest — spot. She had been trying very hard to fall asleep for over an hour now, but it was hopeless — there was something on her mind that kept her awake, and try as she might to shut her thoughts to it, those painful memories kept creeping back into her consciousness.
It was only last week, just before she and the family left New York in their car for the long drive down the Atlantic coast to Florida, where her father rented the boat. If only she had listened to her parents, heeded them when they told her to stay at home that night and rest up for the trip, maybe none of it would have happened, she told herself. But she knew that was a lie — with Chris Norwood, it was bound to happen sooner or later; every girl in school knew his reputation as a ladies' man. Only, why, why, did it have to happen to her?
She and Bobby Jansen had been dating since junior high, not really "going steady", but fast getting there. Both she and Bobby had dated other people; that was why she couldn't understand why he got so mad when he saw her with Chris at the local teen hang-out, Ernie's Drive in. Chris wasn't anything to her, at least not before that night. He was just another boy, even though he was captain of the basketball team and one of the top track stars in the district. Maybe a lot of girls were falling over themselves trying to get a date with him, but not her. In fact, until he asked her after math class when she was going to her locker for new books, she had never really thought of going out with him at all. That was what made the whole awful mess so ironic — and so tragic.
Bobby and she had never had any sort of agreement not to go out with other people; in fact, once or twice they had even double-dated together, both with other dates. Yet, when she and Chris had arrived at Ernie's that night and pulled into the only empty parking slot — right next to Bobby and three of his friends, you would have thought they were married or something. She hadn't even noticed Bobby at first because they weren't in his car, but all of a sudden, the door came open, and Jan turned just in time to see a blur of flying fists as Bobby tried to slug her date, and drag him from the car.
It was a good thing, at least, that the drive-in kept an off-duty patrolman on the premises on the weekends, for Bobby Jansen, even in his anger, was no match for the athletic Chris. She could only remember screaming as loud as she could, and then it was all sort of hazy until the patrol car arrived and the officers hauled Bobby into the station. They had questioned Chris first, since there was hardly a scratch on him and Bobby was barely recognizable under the blood from the cut over his eye, but even Bobby's friends admitted readily that it wasn't Chris' fault. Bobby had been drinking heavily all evening, and she found out later after the police had left, popping pep pills like M&M's.
And that was what got her into the mess — ironically enough, absolutely nothing had happened for Bobby to be jealous about. They had come straight to the drive-in from her house, and Chris hadn't so much as held her hand. At least not then.
She'd been upset enough, she remembered, to agree to go with Chris over to his friend's apartment. "Just for a drink to help you calm down", she recalled him saying. Janice didn't drink, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Anything to get away from the gawking onlookers and the cops and the flashing lights. But it had been one heck of a mistake, she soon found out, for once behind closed doors at apartment 408, Ravenswood Arms, the Chris Norwood she'd heard so much about began to surface, all six-feet-two inches of him.
Like a fool, she'd accepted that drink he offered her, falling into his trap like some stupid bug flying into a spider's web. Yes, of course, she knew it was stupid, that she wasn't used to hard liquor and that, being tired and strung-out from the excitement of Bobby's drunken attack and the ensuing scuffle, the liquor would hit her all that much harder. She knew all that now, but Friday night she must have taken leave of her senses. At least for the time it took to force down that awful-tasting mixture of Coke and whatever it was that Chris mixed with it. And that was long enough ...
She felt it tingle down her throat, into the pit of her belly, empty as they hadn't eaten yet, and then spread its potent warmth throughout her slender teenager's body. Maybe it was just an after-shock from all the night's excitement, but for some reason she began to shiver uncontrollably right after downing the strong drink, sitting on the leather sofa in Sam Dunaway's apartment. Sam was active in the athletic Booster's Club and let Chris use his place when he was on the road in his sales job.
Chris wasted no time putting his arm around her as she shivered like someone just in from hours of a blizzard, though it was close to sixty out and she was anything but cold.
"There, that's better, isn't it?" he asked, squeezing her tightly to his side as they sat together on the sofa. She looked around the expensive apartment and realized — fully — for the first time that they were alone together. It didn't really bother her then, but had she known what was coming, she'd have leaped from the balcony if necessary to get out of there!
Chris' hand stayed on her shoulder, though she thought of asking him to remove it. It seemed innocent enough, at the time, and after all, he had probably saved her from God-knows-what tonight at that drive-in. Wow, in that condition, Bobby might have done anything!
So when Chris eased his hand down along her upper arm, though she tensed at the sensation, she offered no objection. And that was her second mistake ...
"Janice?"
She turned toward his voice and was suddenly caught unaware by the fury of his hungry lips clamped wetly to her own. She cried out a muffled protest as his other hand locked to her shoulders and with strength a dozen times her own, he held her firmly positioned as his lips devoured her whole mouth, his tongue forcing its way between her clenched teeth and into her throat. Janice struggled wildly, but was helpless in his grip, as he reached up under her blouse in back, first tugging it from her skirt, and deftly unhooked her bra with his fingers. She kicked the air futilely, her hands straining to reach his face, but it was no use.
With her bra unhooked, his hand slid easily up under her blouse in front and in one quick motion, his fingers closed painfully tight around the ripely firm swell of her budding young breast. His touch on that sensitive zone brought new efforts to escape, but his grip only tightened, and his wetly eager lips never left hers for an instant, not even to let her gasp for air.
It pained her even now to remember what happened next, though the memories left behind in her insides a nagging sensation she had never felt before. Chris pushed her back anxiously onto the sofa, unable to contain his schoolboy's fervor for an instant, and as his weight pinned her to the leather surface, his other hand left her shoulder and rammed viciously up between her legs, pushing apart her trim white thighs though she tried hard to hold them closed, and his fingers knotted in the sheer fabric of her white bikini-cut panties. In another moment's time, he had yanked them savagely down her legs, leaving them just below her knees to hold her frantically kicking legs in place. Then, somehow, though the memory of it all even now was hazy and blurred, she found herself pinioned beneath her own legs as Chris doubled them back against her chest, smashing her young pink-nippled breasts under her painfully bent knees.
His lips were away from hers now and she could scream again, "No, no! Please, Chris, don't! I've never done it before, Chris! Please, don't make me!" But his eyes had feasted on the silken treasure of her fleecy pubic mound, golden and soft in the living room's dim light, and his ears were deafened to her cries. She felt, rather than saw, his heatedly throbbing penis suddenly poke hard against her nakedly upturned buttocks as he held her with one hand, still pinned to the leather sofa. "Oh God, no! No!" she screamed again, a sudden burst of energy and will to resist coursing through her half-naked young body.
Her legs were now levered back over her shoulders painfully, and scalding tears of horror and humiliation flooded her eyes as she fully realized what he intended to do to her. She cried openly as the teenage athlete, his massively pulsating cock in one hand, pushed and probed furiously, vainly seeking the tight little hair-lined opening between her pouting, virginal pussy-lips.
"You're not selling me that line, bitch," he growled at the young girl below him. "Nobody's a virgin anymore! You can't fool me with that bullshit!"
"Please, please," she pleaded, "I'm telling you the truth!"
But Chris wasn't having any excuses; he'd wanted to get in her pants since the first time he saw her in gym class, strutting in from the athletic field in those little white shorts, her titties poking deliriously from under her P.E. blouse. And that ass! Jesus, it looked incredible then, but now! Naked beneath him, twin perfectly-formed halves of soft warm flesh rubbing sensuously together as she writhed helplessly under his weight, her legs pushed far back so that the whole tempting expanse of her hot little pussy was upturned up to him like a waiting feast. And it was a feast fit for any king!
He pushed and prodded with the throbbing, hyper-sensitive head of his lust-swollen cock, already excited beyond belief from just looking at her beautiful young cunt, and then ... he found it, the lips parted just enough for him to ease his prick up to the very entrance of her warmly quivering vagina.
"No! No!" she screamed, and with one free hand, successfully made a grab for his menacing organ just an instant before he tried to ram it home. He moaned as her fingers tightened defensively around the heatedly throbbing shaft; and in her frantic passion to escape, her small fist moved down along the lust-hardened penis in a quick pumping movement, pushing the ravishing hunk of masculine flesh away from her virginal cleft. And that was enough ... the feel of her tightly-clenched palm around his ravenously hungry cock was just enough to end it all before it really began.
Before Janice's astonished eyes, the enormously swollen organ she held in her grip began to shudder and jerk ... and suddenly, from the purplish head, a torrent of white, sticky cum exploded onto her thigh, running in little web-like streams down into the crevice of her buttocks and then onto the sofa. She was too amazed and surprised to even let go and finally, when his load was emptied and the hot flesh between her fingers began to soften and became all rubbery, he pulled it away from her grip; the flaccid shaft oozed from her hand as if from a pussy, making a lewd sucking noise as it popped free.
Nothing else happened after that, and Chris hardly spoke as he drove her home. He didn't seem angry really, more hurt and embarrassed than mad.
And though it had been days ago now, she was still not over it. Sure, nothing really had happened, and she was still a virgin, though barely so. But it wasn't that that bothered her — it was something else. A strange new feeling that she had discovered inside her, a kind of gnawing sensation that she had never known before, like something was eating away inside her, yearning to be free ... and it had all started when she had felt that massive flesh — so warm and vital — pulsing like a heart in the palm of her hand ...
"Hey, Janice, you awake?" She was suddenly jarred from her memories and slammed back into the present. It was Danny, calling from his sleeping bag.
"Yeah, what'ya want?" she replied, using the normal brother-sister tone of indifferent annoyance with practiced aplomb.
"I can't sleep."
"So what do you want me to do about it?"
Danny eased out of his sleeping bag and onto the sand. "I'm going for a walk down the beach. You want to come?"
"What!? It's the middle of the night!" she exclaimed.
"No it's not," he defended. "It's only eleven. And I thought I saw a light down there awhile ago. I'm curious."
"Danny, it's none of your business. Stay here."
"Stay if you like, but I'm going for a hike." And he started off, barefoot, in the jeans and tee-shirt he had been sleeping in.
"Hey, wait for me!"