Chapter 11
Tom Jack Murray tried to put the make on an unattached girl and she laughed at him. He passed out just below the high tide mark early in the evening. He was awakened by the same incoming tide which carried Pat Emory's body ashore. He felt water lapping at his feet and staggered away. He had a terrible head and a worse temper. After such a promising start with Pat, the weekend had gone sour. He looked up the beach toward the fires and cursed all of them, all the bastards, all the prudes, all the silly bitches. What the hell was wrong with them? Didn't they know a man when they saw one? You'd think there was something wrong with him, that he was a damned freak or something, the way they acted.
Just give him a chance and he could make any one of them squirm, like Pat. The thought of Pat sent lust surging through his loins. He walked toward the fires. There were girls there. Surely he could latch onto something. But they all looked at him with cold eyes as he neared. He didn't see anything promising at all. One tall one stopped him and asked him if he'd seen Pat Emory. He snorted. She was tall and almost skinny, and she looked at him as if he were some kind of bug.
"Do I take that to mean no?" Ellen asked.
"I don't care how you take it," Tom Jack said belligerently. He took a good look at her. She wasn't bad. He took her arm and smiled. "How 'bout you and me talking a little."
She slapped his hand and he, off balance, almost fell. Before he could recover, she was striding away on her long legs. He started to go after her. Who the hell did she think she was? But it wasn't worth the trouble. She was skinny, not lush like Pat. He walked on, found himself past the main group and continued walking aimlessly up the beach. He walked slowly and silently on the sand and he heard them talking before he saw them. He went closer, hidden by darkness, and listened to them.
To Jean Loras, the night was beautiful. It was glorious. She felt great wonderment and joy at the way she loved David. She'd loved him for a long time without knowing it, but now she knew and she liked to put her lips to his ear and say it.
"I love you."
Her heart would hammer as he told her, "I love you."
They had had only one beer. They didn't need alcohol. They were intoxicated on love, drunk on the beauty of each other. They talked and talked endlessly. There was some kissing, nice and warm. As the evening came and the night passed slowly they whispered to each other in lovers' secrecy, and kissed and talked and laughed. She could talk openly to him. He was the first person she'd ever known to whom she could really open her heart, speak her deepest thoughts.
"I suppose I'm old-fashioned," she said, "but I think that sex has no place in a girl's life until she's married. Not that I'm a cold woman, David, dear. Believe me, I'm not. There have been times when I found it very hard to be good."
She kissed him quickly. "like now," she said, squeezing him. "I could be bad with you very easily."
And later, after a lengthy kiss, "I didn't know it then, David, but all those times, all the times boys have wanted to touch me and do things to me and I wouldn't let them, I was saving it all for you."
"You didn't even know me then," he said. "I know, but I was saving all of it for you."
"Well make up for lost time when we're married," he said, feeling daring and very much in love with her.
"You bet we will," she said with meaning.
"I'll eat you," he said, biting at her ear. "I'll devour you whole and save the best parts for dessert."
Jean blushed, but with her new intimacy with him she was able to ask, "And what are the best parts?"
He showed her. Solemnly and carefully he touched both her breasts. She held her breath. He put his hand in her lap and for one wild, freewheeling moment, cupped her tenderly. She felt waves of weakness go through her.
"Sir," she said, because there was no use being shy with David. She was going to marry David, be his wife, bear his children, open her body to him, give him all the love she'd been storing up for the nineteen years of her life. "You'd best not do that, because if you do I might just do something crazy."
"Such as?" he asked.
"Such as," she said, throwing herself on him, pushing him back against the sand and lying atop him, full length, as her mouth closed over his.
David Wofford swelled with pride. Every man wants his woman to be wanton. With him. He was proud to be able to engender such strength of feeling in the girl he loved. He returned her kiss until she pulled away from him and said, "David, David, David."
So it went, through the warm, pleasant early part of the night. He would kiss her until he was breathless and she was pliant in his arms, soft, willing, yet very trusting. He knew that he would not betray that trust. She was too sweet, too dear. But after not kissing her for a while he'd have to kiss her again, and the night went by slowly and wonderfully. Jean Loras's virgin body was in a state of tumultuous need. For the first time in her life she was thinking seriously about going all the way because she was with her David, and David would always take care of her.
He was leaning on her, she on her back on the blanket, his torso on hers, her breasts against his chest. She kept her eyes closed and answered his kisses and told him of her love. It was too much for any man. It put too much of a load on him. She was so completely willing that he had to touch her. He had to feel her wonderful breasts again, as he'd felt them the night before. His hand came up slowly. When his resolution failed and his hand clamped into a claw of desire over her breast, he felt her sharp intake of breath and she didn't make him stop. He told himself that he would stop, that he would go no further. He was amazed when he realized that her halter was loose and that her sweet woman-flesh was bare under his hand, exposed to the warm night air. He toyed with the delightfully firm little nipples as he kissed her. She had moved her body to press tightly against him, to feel his readiness against her hip. She was his woman, so good, so warm. The next step came naturally. She was sighing with happiness as he kissed her breasts. She held his head tenderly in her hands as he caressed her.
And nature took them to the next stage. He was atop her, his body between her opened legs. Of course, their bathing suits were tight and secure between them, but he could feel her softness nevertheless. He could feel himself pressed under the mound and her body was tense and trembling. Neither of them had spoken in a long time. It was Jean who broke the silence.
"David?"
"Yes."
"Would it be all right if I touched you."
"Yes."
He rolled off her and she put her hand down the front of his suit while he kissed her. She found him, hard, long. She closed her fingers around that almost separate entity and he was breathing very hard.
"We shouldn't be doing this," he said.
"No."
"We've got to stop."
"Yes."
But they didn't stop just then. They didn't stop until he was experiencing almost climatic thrills from her fondling hand. They didn't stop until his hand, too reached inside a tight bathing suit and found intimacy. He could feel moist warmth and she was making small movements under his hand.
"Now we'd better stop," he said. "All right."
They lay side by side and breathed hard, both acutely aware of the other.
They both started to speak at once. "Go ahead," Jean said, giggling. "No, you."
"I was just going to say that I love you," she said.
"Me too," he said. Then he added, "No, I was going to say something else."
"What was it?"
"I was going to say that I have never, never wanted anything as much as I want you."
"I can say that, too, and be very much truthful about it," she said.
"I was going to say that if you hadn't stopped me I don't know what would have happened," he said.
"I didn't stop you," she whispered. "I don't think I could have, David."
"We'd better come to an understanding about this," David said. "We seem to do things to each other and something will give if we keep this up. Do you think we should discuss it?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Well, first of all, neither of us want premarital sex."
She felt very mischievous. "Don't we?" She kissed him, long, hard.
"I thought we had decided not to," he said uncertainly.
"We did," she said. "But I feel my heart pound." She put his hand below her left breast.
She was sensuously warm under his hand. She had not replaced the halter and her breasts were exposed. He cupped one breast and she came into his arms and they were deep into it again. Somehow, her bathing suit went. She was gloriously nude, lying on the blanket, uncovered for his admiring gaze. He placed his hand in her warm lap and brought a lusty movement of her hips with a caress.
"We'll stop," he whispered. "We'll stop before-"
"I want to say something," she said, pulling him to her. "I want to say that I'm yours, David, all yours, for always. If you want me now, if you think it will be all right, then go ahead."
"Oh, God, Jean." He crushed her in his arms. "I don't think we should."
"It's your decision, darling. Just remember that I'm yours to do with as you please."
"We won't," he said. "We'll stop."
But he would feel her first. He would just touch her. He was between her legs, pillars of love and beauty, warm against him. The moist touch of woman was against his heightened sensitivity. He could feel the plush, oiled parting of membranes and he felt the intense core of heat from her interior. His will was putty. He was one short movement away from heaven and she was looking up at him in wide-eyed expectancy, a little scared, lips parted, tongue touching the corner of her open mouth.
She said something. He didn't understand it.
"What did you say, darling?"
"Do you," she repeated faintly, "do you have any protection?"
"No," he gasped, moving ever so slightly to put a portion of himself tighter against the open portal to heaven, and to her body. "Well stop."
"Yes," she said.
He pulled away. It was the hardest thing he ever did, to leave all that promise of joy and softness and woman warmth. But he hid done enough. He'd gone much further than he wanted to go, further than safety. He was kneeling between her legs, throbbing ready, wanting to go back to her with all his being.
"If you can't handle the job, son," Tom Jack Murray said, towering over them, breathing hard from the excitement of watching them, "let a man do it."
He jerked David backward, flinging him onto the sand. Jean screamed and tried to cover her nakedness with inadequate hands. David scrambled to his feet and launched himself at Tom Jack. He was met with a hard fist. He spread-eagled backward and got sand in his face. He came back and a star-burst of light hit him and he was limp, not knowing, not hearing Jean's scream as Tom Jack grabbed her before she could run, and crushed her to him.
Tom Jack had watched the scene with wet lips. He could see them clearly by the moonlight. He could see her breasts and all of her body. He saw the jerk mount her and he felt lust pouring into every area of his body. He throbbed with violent spasms of need and when the jerk didn't finish the job it infuriated him and he went in to do it for the jerk. Doing away with David was simply a matter of a right and a left. Then he had the naked body in his arms and he knew how to use it. She screamed and scratched. He belted her a light one and she went slack for a minute and then started crying.
"Ain't gonna hurt you," he told her.
She fought as he forced her down onto the blanket. He didn't even hear her screams. He clawed his trunks away with one hand while he held her with the other. She jerked and screamed under him and he forced her legs apart with his knee, feeling her softness. He was only a moment away from what he needed, what she wanted and the jerk wouldn't give.
"Won't hurt you, baby," he said. He forced his way to her until he felt that body-trembling warmth. He lunged, but she moved and he punched softness off center. She was moving her hips in desperate little spasms, but he was too big, too heavy, too powerful. He held his hand over her mouth to stop the screams. He felt the first spear of contact and grunted with its goodness. She moved desperately, and her movement was the wrong one, doing exactly what she was fighting to stop. It allowed him to impale her with one swift lunge, the way oiled by the passion she had felt for David. She screamed in pain, the sound muffled by his hand. She fainted before she felt the huge spear of his passion bury itself deep. When she went limp, he was able to put his hands under her rump and lift her to him, to rock himself deep into bliss. He worked steadily and lustily.
She moved under him, coming back to consciousness. He was using her with lusty force and she was pinned under his weight, helpless. Her movements made him redouble his efforts. She sobbed in horror. That which she had saved for the man whom she loved was being taken selfishly, brutally, by Tom Jack Murray. Thinking rapidly, horrified, she turned her head and saw David lying limply on the sand. Oh, God, he could be badly hurt. She tried to fight, found it useless. She decided that the best thing to do was he limply and let the monster have his pleasure. If she fought he might hurt her.
But the greatest horror was yet to come. She let him use her and it went on and on endlessly. He kissed her and she kept her lips closed tightly and screamed once when he took his mouth away. His hand pulled and tugged at her breasts and without warning, without conscious realization, her lower body thrust itself upward to meet one of his great lunges. A lance of pure pleasure shot out from the point of contact. She tried to scream again and the sound was choked off in her throat, for with David lying not ten feet away from her, with her every sense crying out against the outrage, her body readied by the long, torrid petting session with David, was responding to Tom Jack's maleness.
Jean Loras was a tall girl with wide hips. She had a body designed for childbearing. She was able to take Tom Jack, to accommodate him, with no pain after that initial stab of horror at first entry. She was crying, cringing away from his touch mentally, but physically she was meeting his thrusts and feeling thunder and lightning grow inside her until, as he gave a great grunt of pleasure and lunged deeply into her, she felt herself burst inside. A torrent of bliss which was almost pain pounded inside her and brought a muffled moan from her lips.
She fainted again, feeling that greatness in her stomach, remembering the wondrous pounding of her interior muscles, feeling the towering pleasure of her first climax as her mind told her that something beautiful had been destroyed. The blackness was merciful. She didn't feel Tom Jack lying atop her. She didn't hear his contented grunts or feel the self-induced throbbing in her as he flexed himself to savor the after goodness of it. She had no way of knowing that her screams in the beginning had alerted the group down the beach and a few of the boys were moving toward them.
When she opened her eyes to the enormity of the terrible thing that Tom Jack had done to her, and to David, she screamed. She screamed and screamed and she was still screaming when they pulled Tom Jack off her and brought David back to consciousness. She was screaming hysterically when they led her to the road, after some of the girls had put her bathing suit on her.