Chapter 1
Cynthia Barret tossed and turned in her sleep, her body covered with a thin film of perspiration prompted by fear. Her full pretty lips parted as she mumbled protests over and over again. It was the same dream, the same fear welling up out of her unconsciousness once again. Her pretty head thrashed from side to side and an audible No! could be heard.
Cynthia was alone in bed, in her own apartment, asleep. It was near dawn and she was having her recurring nightmare once more. "Nn-ooo, n-nooooo!" she moaned. In her mind, her dream, she was far from home, far from the safety of her apartment.
In her dream, she was once again in Chet Larkin's apartment, at one of his wild parties. Or was it an apartment that just looked like Chet's? She had been in so many strange apartments lately. She was lying on a water bed again and she stretched her arms out for balance or to feel the sides so that she'd have something secure to hang onto. She pitched and rolled and undulated on the bed as other laughing bodies were nearby. As always in the dream, there were other bodies nearby and they were laughing or ... breathing hard.
And, as always in this recurring dream, she was naked and could feel those bodies pressing closer and closer to her own.
And it was her body, naked, unprotected, that was of special interest to her. It was the kind of body that would be of special interest to anyone, male or female. To say that Cynthia was "stacked" was being banal. Drag out all the old superlatives and adjectives and you wouldn't even get close to her shapely form.
Her body had been her problem ever since she could remember. In high school, she had been talked into modeling in a downtown department store. She quit after the first day when the assistant manager, unable to control himself, made an overt pass and Cynthia had to slap his face. Then there had been the way all the boys acted and the way they fought to sit in the stands when she was a cheerleader and the looks on their faces as her breasts bobbed up and down and her cute short skirt flounced up, revealing panties that seemed stretched to the snapping point.
Sex had been a constant thing in her life ever since she first began to develop. Men just wouldn't or couldn't leave her alone and most of her experiences had been unpleasant until she met, fell in love with, and married Mike Barret. But Mike was now a chopper pilot in
Vietnam and she was home alone, tossing, twisting, dampening the sheets of their bed with her perspiration, nearly waking.
But now she was deep in the dream. Chet Larkin's dream as she called it. Only it wasn't always a dream, it was once a reality. There had been the time, months before, when Chet first showed up, telling her that he was a buddy of Mike's, that Mike himself had stopped by and asked him to keep an eye on her since she was living all alone in San Diego, waiting for Mike to finish his tour of duty. Her first clue should have come when she had said, "I'll write Mike you've stopped by!"
Chet hastily said, "Don't do that."
"Why?"
Chet grinned. "He wouldn't know the name. See, I'm doing a little extra work for the army on the peace coffeehouses so, naturally, Chet isn't my real name. Better not to mention me to Mike at all. If you have to, just say a buddy stopped by. Now, for Mike, can I treat you to a good steak? I don't know about you, but my stomach is caving in. I'm still on Vietnam time."
But to get back to Cynthia's body. It was perfect. Simple. A perfect body that brought her all kinds of offers to model, be in the movies, have a drink, be touched, caressed, kissed, mauled, until she found herself fighting for her rights and dignity.
It wasn't all the males' faults. She had a body that was perfect, besides a pert and adorable face set off by long black hair and a dazzling smile rimmed by full red lips. Her breasts were high and firm. And also huge. They were perfect, rounded like two honeydew melons ripening in a hot Alabama sun. Put them on a petite rib cage and mount all that on the thinnest of waists, a real wasp waist, and you have an idea of what her torso looked like. But not if you leave out her flat hard stomach which had just a slight roll to it from hot afternoons spent out on the court. Her hips fanned out deliciously, forming buttocks that rode up and down when she walked in the most tantalizing fashion. She couldn't help it any more than she could help her full thighs and long legs that tapered down to thin ankles. Indeed, Cynthia Barret had everything other women envy and men desire and she had it all naturally, combined with a sweet and understanding nature that spelled nothing but TROUBLE for her after she met Chet Larkin.
Now she was having her recurring nightmare. The room was dark, filled with smoke and the pungent odor of pot, and she couldn't be sure if she were actually in Chet's apartment or at one of the many parties he had led her into. It didn't matter, for she was naked and lying on a waterbed. It wasn't until she had gotten to know Chet that she learned of the subtle thrills waterbeds held for her and others. She was lying on her back and felt the warm water moving below her lovely body. The bed contoured itself to her body completely, outlining the backs of her long lithe legs. Her rounded thick thighs gave her the look and raciness of a fine woman athlete. Her twin buttocks cupped deep into the water bed, trapping themselves as the small of her back curved away, lifting her stomach and causing her to suck it in, thus forcing her shoulders down into the warm liquid and thrusting her breasts out invitingly.
There was laughter and music in the dream, as always. There were figures moving and talking and drinks being drunk. The room was hot and dark and it seemed that more and more people were crowding around the room, around the water bed and staring down at her lying naked.
She put a hand over her crotch and tried to put her other arm across her breasts, wishing with all her might that she might wake up. But she didn't wake up! The dream went on with the people crowding around closer and closer. She could hear comments being mumbled all around the bed.
"I'd give a cool thousand for that. It would have to be for the whole night, but I'd sure give a cool thousand for a body like that."
"We could take her home with us, get her drunk and in bed and really work her over."
"She looks ready right now."
"Chet knows how to get them"
"How would you like to have that suck you off?"
"I can do anything she can!"
"Anything but look like that."
"Why doesn't someone join her? I mean, is this a show or what?"
"Let's see more of that wild body."
Despite herself, Cynthia found herself shocked and thrilled about the smutty suggestive way they talked about her; like she was just a thing to be played with and enjoyed. A strong sense of lewd shame spread through her body, exciting her. Her mind responded slowly and she took her arm away from her breasts, exposing them and listening to the group intake of breath and the mumbled comments as her nipples grew taut and bullet-shaped.
"Ah, look at that," a man's voice said. "Turn this way, my darling, so I can see them better," the voice asked and Cynthia found herself responding, turning slightly with her breasts shifting and quivering. Her breasts quivered and jounced whenever she walked.
"God, what a bitch!" a woman's voice said, full of jealousy.
"Maybe," a man's voice answered dryly. "But you'd love to crawl on that bed with her, baby."
"And I just might!" the woman's voice answered back.
Cynthia had her eyes open now. The room was too dark to make out any of the strangers' faces, but she could feel their body warmth and hear their whispered comments and she felt a lewd excitement surge through her body like a current of powerful electricity!
Men wanted her body and she heard them swear under their collective breath and she heard the room go absolutely silent as she took her hand from her pubic hair and revealed her soft jutting mound of Venus under the soft black pubic hair. There was a long low whistle and a voice said, "Two thousand."
Another voice chuckled. "Fairchild, you gotta marry something like that in order to get it."
"Not at all, gentlemen."
Cynthia stiffened on the bed and her heart began to pound with an increasing rhythm. She knew that voice. Who was it?
"Watch," the voice said.
Cynthia had gone into a curled fetal position at the sound of the voice, her hands trying to protect her body.
Slowly, hands were beginning to rock the water bed. (For the sake of the-uninitiated, a water bed is nothing more than a large plastic mattress filled with warmed water. Filled to just the right amount, it can be an experience difficult to explain or forget. like floating in warm oil, like drifting on a cloud, like floating effortlessly in a pool.) Now people were bending over the water bed, crowding even closer as they put their hands on the edges of the water bed and began to rock the water within.
The bed was encased in a sturdy wood frame and Cynthia began to feel her body undulate.
She opened her eyes and watched as slowly her hips began to thrust out in the most obscene way as the water rolled under her and lifted her buttocks in slow swells and people said, "Christ, look at that!"
Cynthia couldn't help herself. Dream-like, she was beginning to relax again and she let her legs and arms float out. She felt her breasts rise and fall, then her hip bones jutted up toward the ceiling and she knew that her vaginal lips were swelling with excitement as she felt her body undulate in an abandoned kind of way on the bed.
"Fuck her!" someone said.
Another thrill ran through her when she heard the word and thought of the many hot panting bodies that could fall on her. Despite herself, despite what was left of her rational conscious mind, she did the one thing she knew would inflame everyone, including herself. Bending her knees slightly, she slowly spread her legs.
She could hear the labored breath of the men who crouched around the pitching water bed as her hips rose and fell from the power of the water underneath, and the men looked at her nakedness, at the way her vaginal lips were swelling under her dark pubic hair and the hint of glinting moisture which was gathering on her vaginal slit.
Someone was kneeling on the edge of the bed now, taking off his clothes as the others shouted encouragement. "Fuck her!"
"Wait till she gets a load of that."
"Christ, save something for us."
"Wow!"
"Would you believe it?"
Cynthia turned her half-closed eyes and parted lips to look at what they were all talking about. Her eyes widened. A man was naked on the bed, crouching over her. It was too dark to see his face but she could make out the rest of his anatomy. He was naked and his cock was erect and it was his prick she was staring at! She had never seen anything so big in all her life. It was at least two inches thick and over nine inches in length!
An insane thought went through her mind the way she had heard a friend describe a big prick; like a baby's arm with an apple in its hand! This cock looked every bit that big and it was going to fuck her! Hands held her down all around and she screamed, "No! No! Mike!" She started calling her husband even though she knew he wasn't there, that he was halfway around the world, flying choppers. "No! Mike! NO, NO, NO, MIKE, MIKE, NO, MIKE!! ! ! ! "
She screamed and awoke and found herself in her own apartment, safe for the moment. Her fingers groped for a cigarette and she lit one with a shaking hand, telling herself it was nothing more than a bad dream.
A slow frown crossed her face as she took a deep drag and exhaled. All a dream. Or was it?