Chapter 3
Arturo drove Lizbeth and the young girls to the airport.
"What are we doing here?" the surprised school teacher asked when she saw the planes lines up on the ground. "You said your place was nearby."
"It is," Arturo replied, wheeling into a reserved parking space next to the terminal. "But the only way to get there is by air."
Lizbeth bit her lip.
"Is it all right, Miss Parsons?" Mary Ellen asked.
"Yes ... yes," Lizbeth said. "Please don't worry."
"I think it's fun!" Roberta said, hopping out of the front seat. "We're going to stay at a real Mexican rancho!" She obviously had gotten over the apprehension which her young eyes earlier had displayed.
"It trill be fun, my pet," said Arturo, giving her a fond smile as he opened the rear door for Lizbeth and Mary Ellen.
Though he was a man of about thirty-five, Roberta returned his glance flirtatiously.
That girl! Lizbeth thought. Tm really going to have to talk to her!
Then: What am I thinking about? I've got more important things to worry about than Roberta's sauciness!
Obsessed with the problems that plagued her, Lizbeth stuck her legs out of the car and slid forward across the seat without thinking about what was happening to her skirt. Arturo watched as her hem glided high on her luscious thighs, and he obviously admired the display of stockingtops, slices of pale skin, and garter clasps.
Lizbeth caught him watching her, and she yanked her skirt down as she got out of the car. But he already had seen a lot. She hadn't been able to read his eyes through his dark glasses, though he had quickly touched his lips with his tongue.
Well, he was a man, so what else could be expected of him, she thought. He was a handsome man, too. Very handsome . . . and smooth.
Lizbeth smiled at him as she stood up.
He escorted her and the girls to a private plane and helped them aboard. There was only a short delay before the take-off.
"Where are we going?" Mary Ellen, the perpetual questioner, inquired.
"To the gentleman's rancho," Roberta replied. "Didn't you hear him say that?" She glanced warmly up at the Mexican who sat beside her.
He chuckled and placed his hand on her bare knee. "I believe you will enjoy yourself, little lady."
From her seat across the aisle, Lizbeth noted the gesture of intimacy, and she frowned. Was she concerned about Roberta's welfare ... or was she jealous? She set that question aside without dealing with it.
"But how far is it?" Mary Ellen persisted as she craned her neck to look out the window at the ground which receded beneath the plane.
"A couple of hundred miles only," Arturo blandly replied.
"A couple of hundred?" Lizbeth spoke up. "My goodness, that's a long way!"
"We'll be there before you know it," Arturo said as he leaned back and stretched his legs.
It proved to be true, for the fast 6-passenger aircraft, competently piloted by a dark-complexioned man who spoke no English, covered the distance in less than an hour and set down on a dirt strip next to a rambling tiled-roof structure. There were barns and other buildings out back, along with a water tower. All about was rolling rangeland, sprinkled with cactus, where cattle grazed. Except for a dirt road which snaked through the hills, there was no sign of any link to the outside world ... no railroad or power poles.
"So you raise cattle as well as practice law!" Lizbeth said to Arturo as the plane taxied to a stop. She was impressed by the fact that his was a working ranch.
"I dabble," he replied, "in many things."
"Are we near any kind of town?"
"Oh, yes. You would not recognize its name, however."
Arturo guided the females to the door of the plane, and the pilot helped them down.
The skirts of the young girls billowed, giving the man on the ground two flashes of white panty. When Lizbeth alighted, she tried to preserve her modesty, but she couldn't help exposing her scissoring bare thighs which were bracketed by garter straps. The pilot took them in but didn't touch her in a familiar way as her feet settled to the ground.
Arturo hopped down.
"I just realized," Lizbeth said, "the girls and I have no luggage."
"That is no cause for alarm. I will supply clothing for you."
She looked at him closely as they walked to the house. His manner seemed to have undergone a subtle change now that they were on his property, far from the U.S. border. Lizbeth had no idea where they were, and that bothered her ... -but, as Arturo had said, she probably wouldn't have recognized the local names even if he had supplied them.
She was more concerned that her host and benefactor no longer seemed as courtly as before. His attitude had changed to one of cool command.
The house was magnificent ... a veritable palace in the wilderness. The entry hall was inlaid with dark wood which matched the massive staircase. The furniture was traditional Spanish, heavy and impressive.
A Mexican girl appeared to greet the hacendado. She was young and beautiful, with black hair tumbling about her beige shoulders, bare above a low-cut peasant blouse. She received instructions from her patron in Spanish.
"Please follow Lupita," he told Lizbeth. "She will show you to your respective rooms."
"Can't the girls and I share the same room?" Lizbeth asked.
"Please!" Arturo said brusquely, and gestured toward the stairs.
He was indeed a different man, now that he was on his own ground. Lizbeth's realization that she and her charges were totally under his control made her decidedly uneasy, even in such sumptuous surroundings.
Her room was large and comfortable, and had a private adjoining bath which was fully equipped with gleaming porcelain fixtures, sparkling mirrors, and Spanish tile. The house also was air conditioned and had electric lights, evidently made possible by a private generator.
It occurred to Lizbeth, just before the maid left to show the young girls to their quarters, that the absence of poles leading to the house
I meant there was no phone service. But Ar-turo had promised that she could make a call from there! She tried to question Lupita about it, but the maid only shook her head. She obviously understood no English. Lizbeth paced the expensive rub, apprehension growing within her. If her court hearing was held in a week ... and if the charges against her were dropped, which they certainly should be ... she still would be able to get the girls back to Alabama before the end of the winter vacation. So really it wasn't necessary to make a call. But she had to be certain that there would be no delay with the court.
Deciding she must have another talk with Arturo, she stepped to the door and grasped its black wrought-iron handle. The door would not open.
A catch came to Lizbeth's throat, and she began to pound on the thick oaken door while crying, "Sehor Reyes! Someone! Let me out of here!"
From the dull way her voice sounded to her own ears, she was forced to conclude that her cries were mostly absorbed by the heavy walls, ornate hangings, and massive furniture. She probably couldn't be heard outside.
She strode to the sealed double window and stared out through wrought-iron grillwork at a seemingly endless panorama of rolling, brush-studded hills, grazing cattle, and blue sky. A sense of total isolation heightened her foreboding.
The door opened, and she whirled about. Arturo stood there, without the tie and jacket he had worn earlier and without his dark glasses. Lizbeth saw his eyes for the first time, and they were harsh and predatory, like those of a hawk.
"Just what's the idea of locking me in here?" she demanded.
"Be quiet," he said, and shut the door.
"I will not be quiet!" the young teacher cried as he approached her. "I've done nothing wrong! There's no reason for any of this!"
His arm flew in a sudden, swift arc, and his hand slapped her so forcefully across the face that it sent her sprawling onto the huge four-poster bed.
He stood over her and unzipped his pants.
"I am going to fuck you!" he declared.
Lizbeth's mind was blurred. She couldn't belive she had heard correctly.
Fuck?
Had he actually said. FUCK?
Of course not!
But he had hit her ... awfully hard. That had shocked and hurt her, as well as making her brain woozy.
She struggled to a sitting position and stared at the Mexican through glassy eyes. His pants were open ... but, thank God, nothing was sticking out!
He was bluffing, obviously. He wouldn't dare attack her!
"Why did you hit me?" she whined, and began to sniffle.
"Because I don't like women who talk back. You will never talk back to me again ... do you understand?"
He dropped his trousers.
"Now, wait!" Lizbeth cried. "I don't know what you think you're going to do, but..."
He grasped her by the legs and yanked. Lizbeth slid to the edge of the bed, her skirt quickly rucking to her lap. Bare thighs and garters flashing, she skidded on her parity seat over the rim of the bed and dropped with a thud onto the carpet. The hard landing, on her thinly covered buttocks, jarred her and made her bottom burn.
She knew now that Arturo was serious. He did intend to take her ... to fuck her, as he had obscenely said. She kicked and squirmed. She swung her arms at him.
Standing over her, with his pants around his ankles, shirttails dangling about his boxer shorts, he held her thrashing legs straight up in the air, and he spread them wide apart. His grip around her ankles was so fierce that she couldn't kick free, and her strength was gradually sapped by her futile sturggling.
Arturo stared down at the strip of white panty that passed between her thighs and flared out to partially contain her quivering buttocks.
Though Lizbeth was dazed and terrified, and her vision wasn't working too well, she did note the front of the Mexican's candy-striped underwear, which began to push forward.
"You will stop fighting!" he ordered. "It will get you nothing, except that I will hurt you more! And I don't want to mark up that lovely body."
He was right, Lizbeth realized sickly. She couldn't resist him, and she would be hurt if she tried. The tension seeped from the muscles in her legs, and she began to cry.
Arturo dropped to his knees between her thighs. Her knees were steepled, her feet against the floor. Her skirt was wound around her middle.
The hump in the front of Arturo's undershorts stood higher now, and she stared at it while he looked at her lovely thighs. He trailed his fingertips along them and, despite her terror and the burning of her cheek and bottom, she felt an electric thrill.
His fingers stroked lightly up and down the satiny inner surfaces of her thighs, back and forth across the rims of her taut stockings. He took hold of her legs once again, this time behind her knees, and he boosted them up as he bent his head between them.
"Ooooooh, noooooooh ..." Lizbeth whined as he began to lick her sweet thighs from the tops of her stockings to the elastics of her pants.
Up and down her thighs his damp tongue stroked, spreading tingly warmth through her flesh. She began gasping ... half crying, half moaning, because her emotions were crazily mixed, with fear, humiliation, and ... yes ... pleasure all playing a part. She began scissoring her thighs against the darkly sleek sides of Arturo's head.
His nose approached the center of her panties, and he sniffed the clinging nylon. Her arousal and guilty gratification in the Tijuana gift shop had impregnated her panties with a strong scent of sex, which had grown a bit stale during the interim, but Arturo didn't seem to mind. He not only inhaled deeply, but he began to lick her panty crotch.
Lizbeth's humiliation increased.
She flopped her head from side to side on the carpet, her hair tangling. Her mind was in a furore, and her senses seemed to be going wild.
She felt Arturo pull her panties down, and she feared she was not going to be a virgin much longer.
After all these years, she pondered giddily, who would have thought that she would lose it on a secluded ranch in Mexico, at the hands of a man she had met just hours before? It was incredible. Yet it was happening!
As the man straightened up to haul Lizbeth's panties along her lower legs and off, she suddenly focused on the front of his underwear. The hump in his garment had skidded toward the fly. As he twisted slightly to toss her panties aside, his rigid cock speared out.
My God, it must be a foot long! Lizbeth thought.
Her heart hammered. Pear clutched her in a horny grip. She was terrified at the thought of taking the tall, slender Mexican's monstrously lengthy prick up her virginal vagina.
"NOOOOOOOH!" she cried, and began to kick and swing at him once again.
He bent forward and cracked her hard across a cheek, stunning her. He spread her legs nearly to the snapping point as he yanked them up in the air. But instead of moving forward atop her and driving his sexual spear into her unfucked cunt, he bowed his head once again.
This time he kissed her directly on her pussy.
"Ooooooooo ... " Lizbeth whimpered, and she squirmed, coming back to sharp, responsive consciousness as the man obscenely licked the hair-covered labia which guarded the entrance to her sensuous well.
Lizbeth's pubic hair was not thick on the lips of her pussy; the tendrils were silky and quite long. And they were a delicate light-brown, truly blonde as Arturo had expected.
He tugged at her cunt-hairs gently with his teeth and licked through them, then he began to pry lasciviously with his tongue-tip at the girl's elastically snug labia. Her whining and squirming increased. Though she felt offended by the man's filthy method of attack, and she hadn't forgotten her fear, her tactile sense wasn't immune to the intense stimulation which his tongue-tip provided at the sensitive, moistening slit of her sex.
Oh, God! she thought. Is he going to stick his tongue right IN me!
Indeed that was what Arturo intended, and what he accomplished as he worked between her now blood-puffed hairy labia and began to stroke the very moist and slippery folds within her lovebox.
"OOOH!" she cried, shocked by the intense stimulation, particularly when his tongue-tip brushed the inflamed head of her clit.
Her hips bucked uncontrollably, and she clenched her little fists against the floor.
The lustful Mexican licked more deeply into her luscious honeypot, while his cock stuck up out of his shorts, its veins pounding and its mauve head blood-choked to near bursting point. His nose was buried in her top fluff, breathing deeply of her feminine sweetness, and his tongue took up the tang of her arousal. The wiggly invader worked its way to the rim of her vaginal passage, toured that, then tested the entrance.
Arturo jerked his head up.
"My God!" he exclaimed. "You are a virgin!"
Lizbeth blinked, her body throbbing. "Yes."
"Shit!" Arturo said.
"What?"
"SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!" he cried, and leaped to his feet.
"Well, what did you think?" Lizbeth asked, sitting up. "You knew I wasn't married."
"Yes, but no girl over fifteen is a virgin nowadays, married or not!" he declared as he stood over her with his eight-inch, slender cock sticking up from the fly of his shorts.
Suddenly the rage left his face and was replaced by a slight smile. The drastic change of emotions occurred as smoothly as the passing of storm clouds from the face of the sun.
"Get up," he said. "Put your pants on. Lie on the bed."
"Put my pants on!" Lizbeth echoed foolishly, unable to believe it. (The Alabama girl said "pants" like pa-yuntz.)
"Yes, put your goddamned, fucking pants on!" Arturo cried. "You're worth too much to me the way you are for me to take out my own lust on you!"
He strode to the door, his erection still intact and exposesd as he opened the door to cry, "Lupita!"
Lizbeth scrambled into her panties and got up onto the bed. Why on the bed, she didn't know, but she was relieved that she wasn't going to lose her virginity. Wasn't she? Her body still throbbed, and her pussy was very wet.
Arturo backed away from the door, and Lupita entered. The young, black-haired housemaid, probably sixteen years old, stared at his exposed passion, and she smiled. She said something in softly toned Spanish, which Arturo answered curtly. He swung the heavy door shut.
Lizbeth stared, very fascinated by his cock. It was the largest she had seen yet. Or the longest, anyway. The cock on the man in the gift shop might have been thicker. The only thick part of Arturo's was its bulging head, which was quite dark. He had no foreskin. Veins stood out on his upthrust shaft like vines wound around the limb of a tree.
The first thing he did with Lupita was to grasp the scooped neckline of her white peasant blouse and yank it downward. Before Lizbeth's startled eyes, the Mexican girl's rounded, firm breasts popped out.
Titties, Lizbeth preferred to think of them. That's what the man in the gift shop had called hers, and, though the term was undeniably vulgar, it appealed to her.
Lupita's titties were brown as creamed coffee, their tips browner yet. The disks which surrounded her nipples were quite crinkled, and the nipples themselves rounded, not quite as tall as Lizbeth's pink ones.
Arturo grasped the girl's titties and rolled them. Lizbeth watched his fingers sink into the resilient flesh, and she could almost feel them herself.
His hands left Lupita's titties with a snap, causing the fleshy orbs to bounce, and he grasped her by the shoulders. Bearing downward, he forced her to her knees.
Not really forced. She seemed eager enough to go.
My God, what is she going to do to him? Lizbeth wondered briefly. And then it suddenly became clear to her, even before Lupita did it, that the girl was going to treat Arturo as he had treated Lizbeth a little while ago:
She was going to use her mouth on him!
It was an act which Lizbeth's decency impelled her to turn away from, but a curious fascination caused her to keep looking.
The Mexican maid grasped the limb which branched outward from the fly of her employer's shorts, holding it between her thumb and fingertips right at the fly, and she tilted it lower so that it pointed toward her mouth. Her gleaming rosy tongue appeared.
Lizbeth stared and felt an odd tingle as the girl began to lick the smooth, bulbous head of Arturo's cock.
He glanced at Lizbeth. "You watch this," he told her. "Lupita is very good. You can learn from her."
He murmured something in Spanish to the girl who was licking his prick, and he stroked her black hair. Her lips widened, her tongue withdrawing, and she clasped her mouth warmly around his cockhead.
Lizbeth watched her cheeks hollow as she sucked, and the virgin schoolteacher's stomach lurched. But that wasn't the only response she felt. Her giddy excitement was increasing.
When Lupita began to bob her head, briskly stroking her o-shaped lips up and down on Arturo's cock, Lizbeth felt a throbbing in her throat. The Mexican girl took her hand from the shank of Arturo's organ so that only her clasping mouth held the stiff, upward-slanting shaft as she pumped her lips on it. Her exposed titties trembled.
Lizbeth was salivating, and she had to keep gulping the juice down. She remained very hot and throbby between her thighs.
Arturo lifted Lupita's head from his sexual wand, which flipped almost straight up, dragging a gleaming strand of saliva from her departing lips. She visibly swallowed.
She reclined on the rug and drew her wide, loose-fitting skirt of many colors up around her waist. She wore plain pink panties, which was her sole article of underwear.
Arturo pulled her panties off and got rid of his shorts and shirt. He knelt between her thighs, his cock very erect as he topped the brown-skinned girl.
Because Lizbeth had a side view, she wasn't able to watch his erection part the labia of Lupita's cunt. But Lizbeth saw his shaft gradually sink out of sight into the girl's black puff of pubic hair.
She said, "Ayyyyyy!" and writhed voluptuously.
Arturo looked at Lizbeth as he began to bob his hips, and she watched his long, stiff cock rhythmically appear and disappear into Lupita's clump of black hair. Each time it came into view, it was gleaming wet. The girl had gotten lathered just from sucking Arturo ... that was clear to Lizbeth.
She wasn't satisfied with what she could see, and she quiveringly got off the bed and crept around behind Arturo.
Oh, yes! That was much better!
Now she could see his long, rigid organ gliding all the way into Lupita's passionately flared pussy with its profuse encirclement of black hair. The girl's rosy inner lips turned outward each time he withdrew, and her velvety, moist folds caressed every inch of his throbbing cock, right up to the rim on its head; then as he drove deeply into her, her folds turned inward, caressing him again. Lizbeth devoured the sight of every stroke.
She also eyed Lupita's asshole, which was darker than hers. (Lizbeth had looked at her own in a mirror.) The star-like depression between the Mexican girl's plump buttocks was cute, however.
Arturo began to stroke faster into Lupita's clasping cunt.
She clawed at his back and cried, "Chingame! Aay, hombre! Chinga!"
He grunted and fucked her even harder.
Lizbeth stared, her heart palpitating. Her pussy leaked love juice through the sieve of her panties and down her thighs. Since Ar-turo's back was turned to her and Lupita was on the floor, looking up, Lizbeth felt safe in raising her skirt and pressing her fingertips against her sopped panty-crotch.
She rubbed the slippery, gooey nylon in rapid rotation, then briskly up and down. She tossed her head back, and her mouth gaped open.
She hadn't noticed the mirror on the far wall which gave Arturo a perfect view of her as she diddled herself wantonly while he worked himself to a frenzy on and in the body of his maid.
"AAAAY... AAAY. .. AAAY!" Lupita cried, as the man pronged her fiercely. Her buttocks slapped against the rug.
Arturo's prick made a liquid sound as he stroked rapidly in the girl's overflowing quim.
"AAAAARRRRRGH!" he rasped, and drove deep within her, twitching.
She kicked her legs in the air, panting and moaning wildly. Then her feet settled to the floor, and she sighed so deeply and audibly that there was no doubt of her complete gratification.
"Oooh!" Lizbeth said with a little whine, and came. But not like Lupita.
God! she thought lasciviously. How I need a prick!