Chapter 2
Bedroom Interception
He felt measurably saddened during the quiet drive to Patti's home, but he was scarcely a stranger to such gloom. Parting from her was never without its shades of sorrow, particularly when, as tonight, they had made love and he felt so close to her. But there was nothing he could do about it. This bittersweetness was one of love's requisites, he convinced himself, and one day soon, the Fates willing, marriage would cancel out the need to say good night and travel to separate beds.
When they were two blocks from her home, she asked him to stop the car.
"I can walk the rest of the way," she explained.
"But why walk?"
Her sharp glance cut the darkness inside the car, and her expression, one he knew all too well, was one of utter exasperation: lips compressed to a thin line, brow knitted in a tight scowl, eyes rolled sightlessly upward. Had he not braked the car and edged to the curb, she would have reminded him why he could not drive her all the way to her doorstep. Her mother and father did not approve of Patti and Jim dating during the week-it would interfere with Patti's school work-and this was the way Patti quoted them-so if they broke the rule, such as they had tonight, a white lie was necessary: "I went to the library," or perhaps, "I was at Karen's (her girlfriend), " and occasionally, "We (the cheerleader group) were trying out some new cheers."
He understood all this; they'd been through it often enough, but he was always reluctant to leave her off on a lonely street corner, as opposed to driving her home.
"Some day you won't have to do it this way," she said, trying to pierce his gloom, "but in the meantime"-she glanced at her watch, frowned-"in the meantime, we'll just have to suffer."
She kissed him furtively, removed the picnic basket from the back seat, and was about to climb out of the car when he caught her and drew her back into his arms.
His kiss was impassioned to the point of desperation.
"I don't want you to leave," he said huskily, at the same time nibbling the lobe of her ear. "I want you to stay."
Fooling with her ear always excited her. She shuddered. She broke from him. "Jim, the time-I've got to go."
But he could not accept her denial. He wanted her again, and he pulled her roughly against his body. "Jim!"
But her protests went unheard.
His prick throbbing once more, he mashed his mouth against hers. He squeezed one of her tits. He tore at her skirt, working his meaty hand between her warm, vulnerable thighs.
She was angry. She beat her small hands against his chest. She freed her mouth from his.
"Jim, lemme go!" She seized his wrist and struggled to remove his hand from the exciting moistness of her crotch. "Jim, for chrissakes, lemme go!"
Her shrill protests exploded suddenly on his conscious mind. He released her with a start. His arms sagged, and with an abysmal shame darkening his face, he heard himself say, "I guess I got carried away."
"Kinda like," she said, smoothing down her skirt.
"I'm sorry," he fawned.
She shrugged. "So forget it."
He brightened. "You're all right, Parti."
"I know I am," she said in mock conceit, and then she inspected her hair and mouth in his rear view mirror. "See you tomorrow?" she asked, her hand on the door handle.
"You better believe it," he told her.
"I do believe it," she smiled, and she let herself out, blew him a kiss, then swung off into the darkness and disappeared.
He drove cross-town for the next ten minutes, stopped at a drugstore for the evening paper, chatted briefly with the elderly male clerk, something about the weather and new riots in San Francisco, and then he hummed and whistled his way back to the car. He knew Patti's cheerful goodbye had restored his former happiness, and he knew something else, too: things were going to work out okay between him and Patti. Just fine. And maybe they'd get married just a little sooner than he'd planned. And now he was humming quite loudly, wheeling his Datsun 240-Z through traffic, zipping to the off-campus apartment he shared with football teammate, Warren Yanko.
Warren Yanko was something else.
He was State Tech's fleet-footed left guard, a handsome 200-pounder who was capable of racking up the defense, blocking out the best in the game, and guaranteeing State Tech steady yardage. He was an outstanding student, brilliant in thermonuclear physics. Some of his term papers had seen print in certain of the prestige science organs, and one in particular, "The Computer Dynamics of Non-Elastic Interactions," attracted widespread commendation after it was high-lighted in a special edition of The State Tech Science Review.
But with all these stunning accolades going for him-outstanding academician, Phi Beta Kappa, spectacular athlete, class leader-Warren Yanko still did not measure up in the most important category of all-namely, sex. Mother Nature had short-changed Warren in this department. And not in a dimensional sense, he once confessed to Jim, but in a manner that was strictly psychological.
This was why Jim thought of big Warren Yanko as something else, for unbeknown to anyone else on campus except himself, Warren was an admitted homosexual. He was not gross-none of the limp wrist bit, or the falsetto-voiced feminine bag, which one usually related to the overt homosexual. Instead, he was quite unobtrusive, a passive homosexual, given to occasional chance assignations in public toilets.
"But it's the sort of thing you ought to know in advance," Warren Yanko had told him before they rented their present apartment. "I wouldn't want somebody pointing their finger at you because of-of the way I am."
Jim had hesitated to sign the lease. But Warren's complete honesty, coupled with his assurance that Jim had nothing to worry about-"Don't think you're my type," he joked-convinced Jim that there would be no problems. And now, nearly six months later, he did not regret his decision. Warren's homosexuality was never an issue. He had been true to his promise, never laying a hand on Jim (though he probably wanted to, Jim thought), and their common interest in football polarized them, obscuring the opposites of their sex lives.
Now, letting himself into their apartment, he was disappointed to see that Warren was already in bed. He had felt like shooting the bull tonight, telling Warren how it had gone with him and Patti-had to omit the juicy parts, of course-and getting his roommate's reaction.
Warren had been introduced to Patti following one of their scrimmage sessions, and he heartily approved of her, although he cautioned Jim that he might be getting too serious.
"Damn right, I am," he beamed. "I'm going to marry that girl one of these days. Mr. and Mrs. Jim Cade." And Warren Yanko remained politely noncommittal.
Locking the front door, dimming the lights, he poured himself a glass of milk and carried it to their bedroom. They had separate single beds and Warren, as usual, had kicked off the bedclothes in his sleep. He wore a pair of pale-blue silk shorts, that was all; and sprawled on his back, as he was, Jim noted that Warren had a big hard-on. Probably dreaming that he was playing with some guy's cock, Jim thought, and from the looks of things, it appeared as though somebody had been playing with Warren's.
He turned his back oh Warren and his stiff prick, gulped his milk, then undressed and climbed into bed. He was very tired, exhausted really, and sleep should have come easily. But that was not the case. His mind was restless and he continued to think about Patti.
What was she doing right now? he wondered. In bed, fingering herself? Taking a warm bath, sudsing her tits? Or in the kitchen, fucking herself with a pickle?
That was something, he thought. And it made him hot to think about it, and he considered himself thoroughly lucky to have a girl with no hang-ups, no kinky guilt complexes about sex, a pretty pussy-in-boots who was as uninhibited as his most lustful dreams. And besides that, having the good fortune to be in love with one another.
Now, and with no conscious effort on his part, he found himself wistfully visualizing their last few hours together, fucking her on that football field, ramming his cock in and out of her juicy pussy, feeling and pinching her lovely, curvy ass, French-kissing her hot, young mouth, finally filling her cunt with a load of his jizz.
These images excited him. His cock rose, the head of it throbbed, and he wished that Patti were here in bed with him so that he could give her another jump.
Try as he might, he could not blot out the lascivious fantasies that kept him from sleep. His cock continued to stiffen, his balls begged for fun. A half-hour slipped by, then an hour, and still there was no escape to slumber. Finally, tired of fighting his wakefulness, he crawled from bed, dressed, and padded to the living room to read. The newspaper failed to fatigue his eyes, and, midway in its reading, he felt hungry and decided to drive to an all-night diner and get a sandwich.
Most of the in-town places were closed for the night. The all-night diner which he had formerly gone to was boarded up, and there was a "For Sale" sign Scotch-taped on the front door. Consequently, he was forced to drive to the city's outskirts where he searched out a drive-in, Biggy's, which catered mainly to the high school and college crowd.
He slowly cruised the parking lot, found a slot, maneuvered in. He wouldn't go inside Biggy's, he decided; he would order something, eat it right here in the car.
The place was crowded and the mini-skirted waitresses were overtaxed, dashing back and forth between the kitchen and the cars, hopelessly behind with their service. And by virtue of this idleness: sitting in his car and waiting for a waitress, he found himself glancing at other cars, which is how he came to discover her. Patti!
He experienced a momentary disbelief. He blinked his eyes, stared hard. But it was her, his Patti, snuggled against some guy in a beat-up Chevy, about four or five aisles away.
His despair overwhelmed him. He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. His hands shook and there was a lump gathering in his throat.
Quickly, before she saw him, he backed out of the drive-in and drove off. His confusion damned him. His insides knotted, his eyes glazed, and he had absolutely no idea where he was going.
He drove several blocks before his senses caught up with him. Then he glided into the curb and sat there thinking. Maybe he had jumped erringly to a false conclusion. Maybe the guy was her brother-or her father-or an uncle, maybe. He hadn't got a close look at the guy, so why think the worst?
He mulled this possibility. He nibbled nervously at his lip, wanting to believe that it was a relative. On the other hand, she was kind of close to the guy. Would a girl sit that close to her father or her uncle? Perhaps so, he decided-if it was cold. And it wasn't cold, he told himself, the leaden feeling returning to his stomach. The weather was temperate, the guy was no uncle, and Patti-damn her!-was making out. But still, he was nagged by a doubt-no, not a doubt, but a hope. A hope that he was wrong.
He spun the car around in a U-turn and sped back to the drive-in. Patti and her escort were still there, and he drove on by, circled the block, parking in the darkness that faced and flanked the drive-in. It was a perfect vantage point from which to observe them-and follow them when they left.
His tension continued to mount, and he reminded himself that he must not believe the worst-not unless he really knew. His heart held out hopefully for a reasonable explanation. Patti wasn't that kind of a girl. Some of them cheated and fucked around on you, but not Patti. Patti had truer qualities than that, and hadn't she just tonight told him she loved him. And if your girl loved you-
His thoughts fused. He stiffened. Patti and the guy in the old Chevy were pulling out of the drive-in. But they were not headed toward town; they were headed away from it
Anger merged with his gloom. His jaw, which had been slack, was suddenly grim in its line. His eyes were hard and his knuckles whitened as he squeezed harder and harder on the steering wheel.
He chased after them. If that cunt was two-timing, he thought, there was going to be hell to pay. He'd make her regret the day she was born. He'd fuck her up, but good!
Now he closed some of the distance between himself and the old Chevy. Not too close, he warned himself. He mustn't lose them-not this late in the game-because, goddammit, he wanted to know. He wanted to see with his own eyes.
The Chevy slowed. Jim did-likewise. And then there was sudden reason to believe the worst. The Chevy was being driven into a motor court. They were going to rent a cabin, his Patti and this guy. They were going to rent a cabin and they were going to fuck!
He drove on by, found a cut-off: a dirt road which led to God-knows-where, and he pulled to the side, switched off the ignition, locked the car, then walked slowly back to the motor court. He did not weigh the danger of what he was about to do-the chance of being shot or arrested-because danger had no place in his conscious thoughts. He was driven instead by a crazed desire to see-and not because he was a voyeur or a pervert-to have visual proof of her duplicity. Then he could confront her and say, "Okay, you fuckin' cunt, I know all about you. I saw you."
Excitement welled in his throat. Adrenalin shot through his veins. His heart pounded harder, and he hurried across the road, ran parallel to the motor court until he reached the end cabin where the old Chevy was parked. A light was on, the shade was drawn, and he could see their shadows as they crossed back and forth in front of the window.
Tip-toeing the gravel-surface that fronted their cabin, he stole to the back. There were two small windows at the back of the cabin. The shade was drawn on one of them, but only partially drawn on the other.
He grew more tense. His throat tightened. He crouched, drew closer. The window was cracked a couple of inches, and he could hear their voices. Patti, her words not entirely distinct, was commanding her escort, a tall, grayish man of at least forty, to come and kiss her. The man-nobody Jim had ever seen-had just locked the door and removed his sport jacket. He draped it over a chair-all very methodical-then came to where she was standing, just in front of the large double-bed, and kissed her.
Jim's reaction was swift and certain. His jealously, a shapeless anxiety until now, was suddenly very real. Real and explosive, so explosive that he almost drove his fist through the cabin window.
But somehow he checked his temper and watched. Patti and her middle-aged boyfriend were still kissing. Kissing and exploring each other's bodies. The man was reaching under Patti's soft cashmere sweater, discovering how squeezably curvy her tits were. Patti squirmed against him. One of her hands lowered to his groin. She caressed the swelling behind his fly. The man loved it and groaned. He pushed her sweater neck-ward, and Jim was startled to see that Patti wore no brassiere, which could only mean that she was expecting all this, planning on the quick and easy fuck, planning on it from the second she climbed into the man's car.
Now, with her luscious breasts bared for the man's eyes, Jim was not surprised to see the stranger dive between her titties, rubbing her nipples against his ears. Patti loved this part, and she rubbed his pants more vigorously.
Patti's lover was quickly aroused to a frenzy of excitement. His cock threatened to pierce the material of his pants. His eyes glazed, and he opened his mouth and started to suck one of her lovely tits. Harder and harder he sucked, and the harder he sucked, the harder Patti played with his cock.
The man couldn't stand it any longer. He opened his fly and guided his stiff prick into Patti's hand. Patti smiled at his prick. It wasn't as big as Jim's but size, apparently, was of no importance. Neither was love. Neither was talk of marriage. At least not to Patti. For Patti, all that mattered was having her sex-crazed cunt filled with the jizm from another man's cock. Getting fucked, and the hell with love!
The two of them were going wild, he saw. The man was sucking her tits, licking the nipples the way a small boy licks an ice cream cone.
"I like that," he heard Patti moan.
The man licked her little-girl breasts with greater fervor. He thrust his pelvis back and forth, fucking the "O" that Patti had made with her hand.
"Wouldn't you rather do it to something else?" Patti asked him.
"What d'you think?"
Jim heard Patti's childish giggle. Then he saw her abandon the man's cock and pull up her skirt. Again to his surprise, he saw that Patti was panty-less. Her blond cunt, plump as a wipe pear, was projected toward her companion. She was ready to be fucked, just as ready as any girl could ever get.
The stranger moaned when he saw Patti's lovely blond-haired cunt. He fell to his knees as though he was engaged in a ritual of total worship. His gaze was trapped, held spellbound by her quivering, 18 year old cunt. This was his idol, the temple of his lust-and hers.
Unable to control his idolatry, he lifted his face to her cunt, stuck out his tongue, then began lapping her crack cunt, plump as a ripe pear, was projected toward her juicy cunt again and again, each time entering deeper than the time before.
Patti thrilled to his cunt-lapping. Every part of her being tremored with joy. She clasped his head and urged him to suck harder. She wiggled her ass, pressing her pussy to his mouth.
"I know a better way," he said during a pause. "C'mere." And he led her to the bed, instructing her how to position herself, which was to let her legs dangle over the edge of the bed, spreading them wide apart. This gave her cunt greater prominence, enabling him to insert his tongue to a greater depth. Patti rolled her ass and Jim was sure she had at least three orgasms while her male friend was sucking her cunt.
"Now I'm going to do it to you," she said, wiping the perspiration from her face. And without waiting for his response, she unfastened his pants all the way, drew them and his shorts down to his ankles, urged him to the bed, and then crawled over him.
She hand-brushed the hairs away from his erect cock, lowered her mouth to it, swallowed it in earnest. Her cheeks sucked inward as she lipped and tongued his inflamed cock, and it was plain to Jim that she enjoyed cock-sucking just as much as he enjoyed having it done. It made him wonder why she had never sucked his peter, and the answer, of course, the only answer, was that girls were more uninhibited sexually if they did not love you. This was a grossly baseless supposition, he concluded, but why else would Patti act this way?
And while he watched her swim over her lover, caress his balls, rub and suck his peter, tickle his nipples, occasionally finger her passion-wet cunt, he realized that his anger and jealousy were joined by yet another feeling: that of excitement. He had a hard-on. Worse yet, he had been unconsciously fondling himself.
"D'you want to come?" he heard Patti ask him.
"How?"
She lifted her cherry-red lips from his cock. "In my mouth."
"You don't care?"
"If I cared, I wouldn't tell you to." She "O'd" her lips. Her face came over his cock. Her mouth enveloped him.
He raised up, shuddered, moaned. She sucked harder. Her young breasts swept over his thighs. Her bare ass raised upward and Jim wished that he could slip up behind her and spear his big cock up her ass-hole. The thought of this, plus the image of what she was doing to her boyfriend, caused Jim's prick to harden even more. He lowered his zipper and finger-measured the length of his cock. It was board-stiff, ready for fucking, and as he touched it, tested it, rubbed it, Patti's boyfriend moaned that he was coming.
This passion-wracked announcement caused young Patti to suck even harder. Her tits, which had merely brushed his thighs, now bounced up and down on them. Her ass, which had simply been arched in space, was now pumping up and down in unison with her mouth.
Suddenly the man moaned loudly. He raised off the bed. His balls pulsed, his cock throbbed, and he clasped Patti behind the head. He shot his load into her mouth, and Jim, who had excitedly followed the spectacle, was even swept up by it to the extent that he had played with himself, now was carried away on a plateau of his own. He jerked his cock back and forth, swooned wildly, then shot his jizm against the window of the cabin. His sperm drained to the sill. Meanwhile, Patti and her boyfriend removed the rest of their clothing and prepared for what was apparently round two.
Jim wiped his cock. He looked on as the orgy took on unimagined proportions. Patti-Christ, she was a damn demon!-finger-fumbled with her lover's cock, encouraging it to get hard again. The man did not readily respond, so Patti told him to bend over the bed. After he complied, she mounted him from the rear.
"This is the way the dogs do it," she told him, pumping her cunt against his bare ass.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked. "What?"
"The male's supposed to have a cock. How are you going to fuck me without a cock?" he grinned, looking over his shoulder at her.
"I'm not fucking you. You're fucking me. Right now, I'm just showing you how it's done." She hunched over him, pushing her blond pussy hairs into the crack of his ass. He responded by wiggling his ass. She pumped back, her juicy cunt overflowing with his jizm. Then, simulating an act of dog-fucking, she reached around him, lowered her hand and found his cock. This he liked.
She continued this, seemingly fucking him in the ass, at the same time playing with his cock, and after three or four minutes, his cock stiffened anew and he was ready to fuck.
It was none too soon for the pretty, fuck-mad teenager. She rolled onto the bed, grasped his cock, and drew it toward her moist pussy.
"Put it in," she gasped frantically.
He pressed.
"Quick!" she urged.
And now it was entering her cunt, sliding between her wondrous pink lips, sheathing itself in the velvety warmth of her love, gliding deeper and deeper into her forbidden Garden of Eden, giving her the fuck that she so desperately craved.
"I love to be fucked," she whispered loudly, the bed creaking. "I could do it all night."
Jim, who had crept closer to the window so that he might better hear them, struggled with his hate. What a bitch! he thought. What a lousy, two-timing, crumby whore she'd turned out to be-but why hadn't he guessed? And if others had known, why hadn't they told him?
He looked on, unbelieving, but knowing-well, there she is. There's your love. Fucking another guy. Sucked 'em off first, and now she's fucking 'em blind. On the bottom, but shaking her ass so hard that her boyfriend can't hold her down. like riding a wild steed, getting thrown.
Suddenly the guy was thrown off. Patti rolled over on top of him. She grabbed his cock, aimed it at her cunt, shoved down.
Her eyes swam. Her eyes swam, and she shoved down again and again and again.
"This is the way I like it best," she groaned loudly.
Jim tried to see the expression on her boyfriend's face, but Patti's back blocked it out. Her back and her ass, plunging up and down, with her cunt eating up his cock, taking as much of it as he had, searching for more.
Jim's eyes grew moist. A mixture of black rage and heavy heart drove him away from the cabin window. He stumbled through the darkness and found his way back to his car.
Once inside the car, he slammed the door hard enough to shatter its glass, and it surprised him that it did not break. And it surprised him, too, that no tears came, that feeling as strongly as he did about her, that he didn't go completely to pieces.
Instead, he sat motionless, staring sightlessly at the gloom which surrounded the car. He wondered what he had done to rate such a raw deal as this. He had treated Patti like a queen. His love had been intense, maybe too much so. And if she hadn't felt the same way or was tiring of him, why hadn't she said so? Why fuck around on him?
His gloom mounted. He was basking in self-pity, and he knew it. And-sonofabitch-she wasn't worth it! No woman was. Cunt was cunt, and Patti was no better or worse than any other. But goddammit, she'd made a fool of him. A complete and utter fool. And that was one thing she wasn't going to get away with. She'd pay, damn her. She'd pay and pay dearly!
He started the car. He knifed backwards, grinding onto the main road. He shifted forward, jammed for the gas. His tires squealed. Clouds of exhaust poured from the car's rear. And like a bullet, he shot down the road and roared back to town.