Chapter 10

Troy came awake with a start and cursed himself for falling asleep in his clothes. Uncleanliness had always made him uncomfortable, and it was bad enough to be without a change of clothing, to say nothing of wearing that clothing twenty-four hours a day. Be bathed each day in the spring, and he had twice washed out his socks and shorts to dry before the fire and be ready for wear in the morning.

His built-in clock told him it was probably around three in the morning, and he started to get up to strip before he remembered where he was. He felt the warmth of Janey Daybird's body, and he wondered what Angela Holmes was thinking about this new lapse of his. Well, he would have to go to his own blanket and make the best of it regardless of her opinion. Come to think of it, he didn't really know what her opinion on his morals was. His light movement told Janey that he was awake, and she slid a warm arm under his neck.

"I thought you'd never wake up, Troy. I tried so hard to lie still so you could get your rest. My ankle is hurting, and I think the bandage is too tight."

Without being asked, Troy found her foot, unwrapped the undershirt strips, and rewound it more comfortably. He held her calf to make the final tie, and the muscles beneath the smooth, golden skin tensed at his grip. For the sheer hell of it, he ran his hand up to her knee and then continued to satisfy his curiosity about her thighs and the buttocks that had entertained him during the day. He found out that she was all long, sinewy muscle beneath that soft, misleading skin.

He had watched her butt sway and jounce, and now he knew that the swaying and jouncing had been only illusion. He congratulated her that she could make herself appear to be soft and feminine and yet have a healthy, rangy body without an ounce of fat. She was sleeping nude, and there was objection in her to the brashness he used in appropriating a right to lay hands on her.

Like Lorena Diaz and Owney Lee, she was no stranger to men, and she was inured to all the quirks and foibles of the sex-starved men who sought her out. Since this was to be for free, she was entitled to add her preferences to the list of things on the agenda. She rolled away from him and then inched her way back until their bodies touched again. Her backside was smooth, and she planted it squarely against Troy's lap with an unmistakable gesture.

She reached behind her and assured herself of his erection, and then she led it gently between her thighs. She imparted a slow hitching motion to her hips and then reached between her legs to hold it from the front. Troy was on his side and had little to do except allow her to continue. She started it in and then hitched backward again until it entered. There was a series of such hitches until full depth had been reached. She spoke over her shoulder.

"Maybe this seems odd to you, but you'd be surprised how it enhances a woman's enjoy-

She led his hand around her to fondle one of her superb breasts. He put forth a tentative thrust and was surprised that he didn't lose the union. He found out that the pressure she exerted squeezing her thighs together prevented him from slipping out. He approved the method and berated himself for never trying it before.

She dropped a hand to his hips, and her fingernails told him when to begin speeding up the action. The position intrigued him and brought him on prematurely. She came with him, and they reached a beautifully serene culmination.

He was ready to withdraw and call it quits, when she made him roll over on top of her without disturbing the joining. She pulled her legs apart and then raised her lower body slowly until she was on knees and elbows. He guessed that the penetration was a little deeper this way to her.

Now she was capable of more action, and her bottom twitched from side to side as he pushed and pulled. The dual motions imparted sensation upon sensation. It was much too sensual to endure for long and he was not sure, but he had the idea that she experienced several orgasms. He had no intention of delaying for the purpose of prolonging the pleasure, and he came with a rush.

Marilyn Burns saw the agitated heap of blankets where Janey had gone to bed, and she guessed what was going on. Her jaded and neglected senses were stirred by the congress. Her husband snored open-mouthed beside her, and his breath was terrible. Jefferson Burns did not wear well, and it had been a long time since she had felt like being sexy with him.

She had been so sex-starved that she had long ago started to build sex fantasies in her mind, and she had become so proficient at forming lewd pictures in her imagination that she could lapse into a daydream and experience an orgasm at will. She liked it this way, because there was no messy aftermath, and it seemed so sensible and decent. The gross animality of sex did not have to be endured, and unheard-of aberrations could be savored with no fear of public detection.

Right now she transferred the action under the neighboring blanket to herself, and she discarded Troy as a partner in favor of the much more exciting hippie, Bart Coldridge. The rape had appealed to Marilyn Burn's sense of dangerous excitement. She spread her fat loins, and her fantasy allowed her to feel an imaginary Bart make a brutal penetration that stretched every muscle. She needed that thought of pain every once in a while to make herself come.

Tonight's orgasm was terrific, and she made a mental reminder to do the scene over again at the first opportunity. She wasn't bold enough yet to indulge herself in broad daylight in front of other people, because she knew that she couldn't control the deep blushes and involuntary twitches as the experience culminated. It would be total embarrassment to have someone point her out and shout to the assembled crowd that she, Marilyn Burns, was mentally masturbating.

She saw Troy rise from the tangled blankets, and she had to choke back a sudden scream of abject fear. Her imagination had made such a successful transfer that she had thought him to be Bart Coldridge. She tut-tutted her taut nerves and knew that she would have to be more careful in the future. These damned daydreams were getting to be more life-like each day.

Her husband woke up and shifted his bulk closer. She didn't know if he sought her warmth or wanted sex, and she pretended deep sleep. He groped his way over her fat buttocks, and his chubby hand closed in a fist over her groin. All these young girls running around in miniskirts and short pants must have given him ideas. She let him tickle her a bit, and then she emitted a loud groan that made him remove his hand for fear that other people would wake up and find him picking away at his ugly wife. Marilyn knew that he was ashamed of her, and she was sure that he wasn't aware that she was thoroughly ashamed of him.

Angela Holmes was another spectator to the mad action taking place under Janey's blanket. At first she was amused that they would have the bold temerity to make love in semipublic, and then she just happened to think of the hunger that had driven them to be so open about it. She knew that hunger very well. She knew of the sleepless nights when the demands of her body made her toss and turn and pray for daylight so that she could be up and about with something else on her mind.

How many nights had she gone to bed determined not to let her hot sex drive take over, and how many nights had she firmly resolved not to touch herself under the strain? She grinned ruefully as she confessed to herself that the number of nights of her resolve equaled the number of nights that she had relieved herself manually.

It was hell to be born oversexed in an undersexed world. She was much too fastidious and moral to go out seeking any man just to satisfy her hunger. She had learned that that way spelled self-disgust, danger, and a terrible loss of pride.

Men on the make were neither clean nor particular, and she had found that most single men of marriageable age were not normal in sex. She supposed that if they had been normal, they would have been married. She had also found out that even married men were not all normal, and the question of normality made her admit that she was not one of the common pack.

Angela was beginning to despair of ever finding happiness in sex. Troy Woodford had looked good for a while, but then his seemingly insatiable hunger for sex had made her think twice about his possibilities. She didn't want someone who would chase everything, white, black, or indifferent. It had been hard at times to remain faithful to her first and only lover, but she had managed, and she would have to expect the same fidelity in the man she choose for her future. Troy didn't seem to fit the faithfulness category.

She wondered when he'd get around to her and what her reaction would be. Her hand wandered across her flat belly and she gripped her thigh with the thumb pressing on the inside of her thigh. Would she tonight-or wouldn't she?

A rustling sound made her turn, and she grinned as she recognized the tall lesbian. At least she was desirable enough for someone to seek her out. Since she had never experienced girl-to-girl love, she had no aversion to trying it out-at the worst, it would alleviate the necessity of playing with herself. She raised up the corner of her blanket, and the girl scuttled over quickly on hands and knees to slip in beside her.

Angela was amused at the girl's haste, and she tried to make light of her ready acceptance of the girl's unspoken proposition. "I don't think that we've been properly introduced. My name's Angela Holmes."

"I'm Franki. My friend's name is Jonni-you know, Franki and Jonni?"

"I can never remember which was which in the song. I guess, in your case, it wouldn't make any difference, would it?"

The tall girl laughed, but the laughter had a hollow sound. If it weren't that she was so particularly driven tonight, she would most certainly have passed this one up. She and Jonni had sensed the sex hunger in Angela, and the competition had been instigated. She couldn't give up now and let Jonni have the edge.

She was gentle as she stroked Angela's hair. There was a hesitancy in Angela, as Franki stirred her passion. Franki supposed that this conquest would be something like a man taking a virgin. She kissed the girl's forehead, and when there was no objection, she lowered her lips to press their softness on closed eyelids.

Angela felt the feather touches of the girl's lips, and her body lost some of its tension when she realized that she would be treated tenderly and knowlingly. Franki's fingers were little moths that flitted around the candle flame of Angela's aroused passion.

Angela found herself crying for more intimacy as the girl made her advances slowly and patiently. A rain of tiny kisses was poured on Angela's torso and her breasts were decorated with small spots of dampness that tingled in the drying long after the eager lips had gone somewhere else to tease and tickle. Her legs were pressed here and there, and then the teasing play settled high on the inside of her thighs. Fantastically adept fingers tantalized her clitoris, and she thought she would go mad with the demanding heat of her heightened passion.

Franki's lips found her navel, and thrill after thrill ran down Angela's spine as a tongue tip darted in and out of the little depression. She briefly wondered how Franki was going to accomplish a culmination, and then she gasped in pure delight as the lips and tongue found her groin. Hot breath made her arch her lower body upward, and soft lips and an eager tongue met her rise.

There was no possibility of concealing her delight, and she repeatedly tossed her hips forward as she came over and over. Franki stopped only when it became obvious that Angela's joyous whimpers were increasing in volume to the point where they would soon be discovered. Franki left off in her endeavors regretfully and patted her own flanks in satisfaction in the reflected orgasms that had stirred her own body. Angela's pleasure had been her own, and her frame was now temporarily sated. She crept away from Angela with shaky breath and weak knees.

Angela rolled to her side and hugged herself for the pure ecstasy that she had received from the girl's loving. My God, it had almost drained her of her strength toward the last when the girl's mouth on her groin had seemed to be insatiable. Troy could keep his hard rod in his pants for all she cared.

Still, there was something else to be taken into consideration now that it was over. It still wasn't complete. There should be a masculine aftermath of contented indifference. A woman liked to hold a sexual experience close while her man rolled over to begin a satisfied sleep. It was pleasant to catalog her man's reactions, savor his vigor, and know that she had been needed.

Damn Troy Woodford! Even now, with her body still trembling from the aberrated rapture it had experienced-even now, she longed for strong arms around her and a lightly haired chest where an ear could listen to the drumbeat of a steady heart.