Chapter 7
"You see, Miz Cantrell," Tommy said, "this is what's kept me from taking care of Rachel like I should. I owe more to mama than I do to my sister. You can see that, can't you?" His voice was pleading, his young face sad.
"You mean, I guess, that if you 'take care' of Rachel like you should, you won't be able to, uh, take care of your mom, too? Is that it?" Elizabeth could sense that the boy was troubled, had sensed it yesterday, and now she knew why. "You should have told me," she said kindly, putting her hand on his thigh, near his dick. She was still tingling from the simply marvelous fuck the boy had given her. Her pussy still felt open and leaky, and deep up her, where her womb lay hidden, it was pleasantly aching from his thrusts.
"Rachel's a hot little girl," he said simply. "But when she started fooling with my dick, and I started messing with her, mama and I hadn't started. And Rachel, well, to me, at least, she just seemed a lot too young to fuck. Oh, damn it! I guess I'm mixed up, but when you live in a mixed-up family, how can you help it?"
The woman stroked his leg. "I suppose I should feel bad," she said, "taking a load from you that maybe you were saving up for your mom. But I just got so hot, thinking about you and your mother. I know her, you know," she said irrelevantly. "From the store. I always liked her. She's got character. I'll bet she likes it, too, and I'll bet she makes you like it."
"You're so right, Miz Cantrell," he said, blushing. "Maybe I oughtn't to talk about her like this, but she's, well, she's just super. You know, I'm supposed to be shy, because I don't run after girls. I don't have to. From the time I was first able to jerk my little old peter and make the juice fly, mom seemed to know it. Hey, you want to know something?" He was lost in reverie for a moment, no longer sad, then he spoke again.
"That time when Rachel came to the swimming hole and found me holding my peter-we were talking about it yesterday."
Elizabeth nodded, drawing a deep breath.
"Well," Tommy said, "mom was in the bushes, taking a little peepee for herself. She told me to keep it hard so we could finish, and that's when Rachel came along." He giggled. "It was real sweet of her, to decide that she had to 'help' me from then on. And she's a help, too, I got to admit it. Because my father's home almost every night and he's the one who bangs mom. Damn him!" The boy's voice was harsh.
"Well, Tommy, I really don't see your problem. I don't see, either, why you don't just go ahead and give Rachel a square deal. Equal time, you might say. You came twice yesterday, didn't you? Oh, three times, yes, that's right. And twice today. And unless I'm mighty mistaken, you could get it up again right now, if someone played with it, and let you play with them. Like me, for example."
She was smiling, but she was not kidding. She wanted to help this boy, too, but in a different way. And she knew, from her reading, and from listening to that old rogue, Sam Cantrell, that a man stayed virile only if he kept fucking as often as he could.
"Listen, Miz Cantrell," Tommy said earnestly, "I didn't mean you. You were so good to me, yesterday. Even if you didn't know it wasn't the first time I ever did it."
I'm just lucky you didn't know how ignorant I am, Elizabeth thought. Aloud, she said: "I thought it was odd that you know so much. About how to please a woman, I mean."
He blushed. "Well, you see how I'm in a bind," he said. "You know that Rachel's as hot as a mink. And mom, well, like I said, she needs me. So, if I get Rachel started, and maybe my pop leaves-which I wish he would!-won't I sort of be responsible if Rachel isn't getting enough? And goes out to screw every guy in Crosley County?"
They were pulling into a dirt road past a mail box with the legend: J. BRIGANCE. There were tall sunflowers along the narrow lane, and a house a hundred yards away. They could hear barking, and see dogs leaping in the fenced runways fronting clean, white kennels. Elizabeth stopped.
"Tommy," she said, "I think you're worrying too much about things that haven't happened yet. You remember yesterday-how mad you got when Rachel said you were jealous of your father? Or maybe I'm the one that said it. You're mixed up, like you said. But in a way that hurts you, your mother, your sister, maybe your dad."
The boy flushed and opened his mouth, but Elizabeth stopped him with a kiss. "Think about it, Tommy. Rachel has rights. If she needs a cock and you're not available, do you want her to suffer? And even if your dad leaves, which I don't think he will, you can't marry your mother, now, can you?" She laughed and squeezed his cock. "Go ahead and be a real boy. Have fun with lots of girls. And lots of old bags like me. And if ever your mom is in bed with your dad, and if Rachel's away with some other guy, you can always come over to my place and stick it in me."
His face had brightened, and when they pulled up by the dog trainer's front porch, he was laughing and had his hand on her leg.
Brigance was a big man with heavy features, a bushy beard, and a pair of fierce blue eyes. He wore a clean flannel shirt, faded denim slacks, and a pair of Wellington boots, somehow looking very dapper.
He showed them several dogs, among them an unusually large German Shepherd, black on top, light cream underneath. "He's not a guard dog yet," Brigance said. "He's about a week away. But he'll be a damn good dog by that time." He eyed the boy keenly. "You know anything about dogs?"
"Not as much as you," Tommy said. "But I know something about dog men. And I know you're not going to sell a woman your best dog, right off the reel. Not unless you have to." The kid grinned, sure of his ground, and the big man laughed.
"Okay," he agreed. "Maybe I've got a better one. Maybe I've got a couple of 'em. But who's to know if I sell the lady a bum? And what could she do about it?"
Elizabeth smiled at them both. "Tommy," she said, "thanks for protecting me. You're a wonderful guard boy. Now, go look in the trunk of the car. There's a camp icebox in there full of Cokes and a tray of sandwiches. Help yourself and go down by the creek. I know Mister Brigance won't cheat me. Sam Cantrell knew twelve of the best dog men in Crosley County. They would do a lot of talking if Mister Brigance took advantage of a poor widow."
She was trembling, and her palms were moist. This was the first aggressive act she had dived into since-well, she couldn't remember. And she was afraid of what the man might think. Or say. She expected anger, at least, but when she looked around, after Tommy had banged down the trunk of the car and left, he was looking at her with a broad smile.
"Got some guts, haven't you, chickie?" he asked. "Even a fucking tyrant like Sam Cantrell couldn't kill your spirit. Lady, I know what you went through. I knew Sam. I know his church. Here," he said, turning his back on her for a moment, "look at this!"
When he turned back, he had his cock in the palm of his hand. It seemed enormous to Elizabeth. She stammered and would have fallen, her knees went so weak, but he put an arm around her and held her. She hid her face on his cotton flannel shoulder, knowing she should scream, should slap his face, should threaten him with the police. But she could not. That cock had struck her dumb.
She stood where she was, seeing it again in the dark of her mind. Tommy had a big one. Very big, for a boy. Old Sam had had a huge one, or she had always thought so. The cock she had just photographed on her mind was bigger. And it wasn't even hard yet.
She felt Brigance's warmth against her, and all the heat in her body seemed to gather in her cunt. She whispered: "No! No! Put it back! Leave me alone!" But he held her to him, and now he ran one big hand down over the rounded strength of her ass, gently squeezing it in a way she knew would turn her to melted butter. So big and strong, so knowing. Holding the cheek of her butt, pulling it so that her ass cheeks separated and warm cunt juice ran down her inner thigh. "Please!" she groaned. "Oh, don't make me!"
They were a step or two from one of the outbuildings which dotted the big yard. Still with his arm around her, his hand holding her ass and seeming to lift her off the ground, he moved her toward it. She continued to moan "No! No!" and even tried to struggle, or thought she did, but he was crooning a coaxing little wordless order to her, and she had the sudden thought: I'll bet a cookie he trains dogs just this way!
Inevitably, her eyes swept the dark interior of the shed, wondering what sort of bed she would be fucked on. There was none, only a small stack of boards and some baled hay. Once again, following an old pattern of feminine habit, perhaps to show resistance, perhaps to insure the male's continuing, she tried to jerk away, crying: "Stop it! Stop! Let me go!"
But he lifted her so that she stood precariously on the boards, her back against the whitewashed board wall, and she could smell the rank maleness of his unwashed cock-and-balls in the silent heat of the little room. His cock was now hard, looking frightfully big, and he held her against the rough boards as if she were a rag doll, his big left hand around her arm, just at the armpit. In a methodical way, he unfastened the shoulder strap of her dress and yanked it down.
As her big breasts tumbled out, still hard-nippled and fuck-swollen from her marvelous session with Tommy's cock in the back seat of her car, he forgot his crooning, sucked in a deep breath, and said: "Ahhhhh! Beautiful!"
He used his other hand to scoop up one of the big, warm titties and put it to his wide, wetly shining lips, sucking almost half of it in, with painfully lovely results. She had never felt more helpless in her life, not even during her first nights of married fucking under the hammering prick of old Sam, and she tried to scream, but no sound came from her throat. In the meantime, in fearful anticipation of the potential pain from that huge cock, her cunt was convulsing inside, twisting as if it were trying to retreat up inside her guts.
With quiet precision, the big man, still sucking her throbbing breast, put his hand under her dress. It had a full skirt, and he made a sound of anger as his hand wrapped in it. He put his palm under her thigh and lifted, and she found herself spread open, one foot on a bale of hay while the other was on the boards. Only then did she realize she had been wondering how Brigance, a head taller than she, would be able to even try to shove that big thing into her while they were both standing.
She groaned: "Oh, oh, please don't! Oh, Mister Brigance, let me down," but her loins were moving, her traitor body and glands and slick-sweet cunt exposing the fact that she was dying for it.
She had put the skimpy panties back on, and expected the man to rip them off, but he simply pulled the thin strip of crotch material aside and went into her with his finger. To Elizabeth's surprised delight, it felt good. Hard-not too gentle-but very, very pleasant. Tommy's cock, her two orgasms, plus sitting on a hot and puffy-lipped cunt for thirty miles, had kept her juices stored inside her. She winced with pleasure as the enormous finger ran up inside her, twisting and turning, cleverly touching all the most sensitive points inside the squeezing mouth of her vagina.
"Good girl!" the big man whispered hoarsely, just as if he were encouraging a dog under training. "Juicy and nice! Hot and wholesome!"
The adjective struck Elizabeth as ill fitting, under the raunchy circumstances, but she was so hot by now that she no longer tried to pretend. She could not blurt: "Come on, you raping son of a bitch! Fuck me! I want you! I want your cock!" But the exact words were in her mind, and her body, her hips, lunged toward Brigance's cock, which sent up its throat-clogging aromas of lust, now that the thick foreskin had rolled back from the huge, heart-shaped purple head.
She worried about the crotch band of her panties, but he simply held it aside as he brought his cock to the trembling lips of her cunt, and she realized that the strained position, with one leg so high on the bale of hay, had opened her up as much as she could be opened. She only wished there were a mirror, so she could see it, see the slick and swollen inside of her outer lips as they were spread like a flower of purple-pink flesh, decorated with the red and lacy pattern of blood-filled veins.
And then the thick, hard pole started into her, and she found her voice as the lovely pain slugged her like a hard fist. And at the same time, all the heat that had started in her early, not quenched even by two hard orgasms with Tommy, and swept into flame by the sight of the big cock, its smell, the strangeness of her own feelings, the fantasy of rape acted out-all this joined in her panting mind and her pulsing cunt to make a hard, hot ball of lust that had to be lanced, had to be opened and brutally vented.
"OH, GOD!" she screamed as the hard fuck-stick ploughed into her tenderized vagina, past lips still trembling and eager from the hard but comparatively tender fucking with Tommy. "OH, GOD HELP ME! OH! OH! OH! OHHHHHH!" And she began to swing and bump like a marionette, feeling that she was held against the wall by that deep-impaling prick, a dancing doll skewered on a huge sword of hard meat and throbbing veins and masculine fuck-power. She felt it reaching depths she had not known she had, even her own weight joining with Brigance's strength and his big cock to thrust him and his pole deeper and deeper into her. Up to her liver, hurting against the tenderness of her bowels, of her rectum, and again, the extravagantly lascivious thought of a hard prick hurting and pleasuring her asshole made the red mist of lust brighter in her fuck-crazy mind.
She had begun to cum, it seemed, even before he poured that prick into her, stuffed her vagina full of it, stretched her bruised lips and hurt them with everlastingly glorious pain, the kind of loving ache that leaves women weak and happy with burnt out lust. But Elizabeth had reservoirs of sex madness of which she had never dreamed, even in the wildly hungry months when old Sam fucked her without satisfying her.
She could hear the big man's ragged breathing, she could smell the sweat in his damp hair and thick beard, and feel it stream down her own belly as she helplessly pumped her wildly spasming cunt back and forth on his cock. The heat of the boards, the heat of the sun beating down on the small shack and making an oven of it, all felt good to her bloated cunt, to her thighs wet with her cuntal fluids, to her ass still tingling from Brigance's hard and knowing grip.
"AAARRRGGGHHH!" she screamed in wordless, mindless heat, feeling the brutal, marvelous plunge of the powerful cock, the wet slap of his big balls against the sloppy-tender space between cunt and asshole.
She was limp from her own cumming, her pussy too tender to take any more, when the enormous cock swelled in her as if it had suddenly gone out of control. She let out a thin scream: "Aiiii! Aiiii!" as the first big load of hot sperm gushed into her, and then she fell limp, still trying to cum as the man's powerful jets of slick jism poured into her.
He held her, limp as she was, and fucked into her, uttering his own cries of lust and satisfaction: "OH, LOVELY FUCK! OH, LOVELY CUNT! AAARRRGGGHHH! UNHHH! UNHHH!" and fucking like a wild boar, as if he were trying to punch a hole through her body.
He must have been a strong man, unbelievably strong, because, even after his own gut-shaking orgasm, he could hold the limp but solid form of Elizabeth Cantrell up between him and the wall.
He was breathing hard, holding his belly against hers, but when she made a final, involuntary lunge of giving-and-taking, one last flutter of fuck-joy, her tightness squeezed his cooling dick out between her juiced and trembling lips.
They staggered together, and she regained control just as he did. He smiled down at her, seeing she was steady on the ground, not on the shaky pile of boards, and gave her another hearty squeeze on her ass. He said firmly: "Wait here!" and left.
In the house, he called to another huge shepherd, and let the dog smell and lick his cock, reeking from the cunt juice it had stirred up and drawn out of the woman's pussy.
A big-breasted, lazily smiling girl, dripping water as she stepped out of the shower, said: "You're selling her a fuck-dog, aren't you? Well, he's a good one." She knelt down and felt under the massive dog, looking up brightly at the trainer. "His cock's already out three or four inches." She stood up and looked at her hand, dripping a clear slime, smelled it, then licked it up.
"Man, he's ready," she said. "A real good fuck-dog."
The big man smiled. "You ought to know," he said.
When he led the dog out to the shed, Elizabeth, still shaken by the power of her own fuck-madness and this strange man's carnal confidence, was sitting on the bale of hay. Her thighs were spread wide because any pressure on her swollen cuntlips would, she felt, send her into the quick, bright shock of another orgasm. And she was suddenly aware that she had an enormous gift of sexual heat, perhaps as much as any woman ever had.
She had gotten her boobs back in the dress and it was modestly fastened on her shoulder, but the open thighs, and above all, the smell of lust which hung about her, told a story of fuck-lust that amounted to a marvelous kind of insanity.
The dog came over immediately and ran his big head between her thighs, lifting her skirt. His short, coarse hair rasped her tender skin, and startled her. But the man spoke swiftly.
"Don't do anything. Let him sniff you. He wants to know you, to know who his, uh, mistress is." He chuckled. "Used in its own particular meaning with a dog, of course."
The big dog backed away, wagging his tail and looking up at the trainer, and the man said: "He's taken to you. That's good. Otherwise, I'd have to get you another dog."
He walked her out to the car. "When you get home, hurry that guy who's putting up your fence. Coley, here, needs to have his territory understood. Until you've got a fence up, keep him in the house."
Tommy, from his perch on a big old grapevine swing, saw them at the car and slid down the vine. The man said: "Thanks for the business. Listen, the dog's guaranteed for life. If you ever need a word of advice or help, bring him down. Or I'll come up." He looked her in the eye and up and down. "You've got something pretty wonderful there, lady," he said. "As good as I ever had. Just wish we'd had more time. I'd like to suck all you've got right up and out of you." He ran his long, pink tongue out like a dog, and Elizabeth, her heart pumping so hard that she felt its beat in the thick lips of her pussy, reached and felt for his cock.
She squeezed it dreamily, smiling, and said: "I'll call you."
Going home, the dog sat in the car, dignified but interested. The boy, turning to look at the big animal every minute or two, said: "He's a damn good dog. Anyone could tell that. And they say that nobody handles dogs any better than Brigance." He giggled, then added: "Boy, this kind of dog sure has got some sort of cock! Wow! Look at it!"
Elizabeth, turning to look, almost ran the car off the road. The dog's big penis was a brilliant, wetly shining coral-red, pointed like a spear. As she looked, the dog calmly twisted to lick it, and the woman saw his long tongue, curling around the slick red meat, take up and swallow the drop of dog-juice on the tip.
She straightened the car out and held it straight. In front of this boy, who had fucked and sucked her, and whom she had, in turn, fucked and sucked, she felt oddly embarrassed.