Chapter 1
"Dear, dearest Bob," the letter began.
"I've arrived safe and sound. See? Your future wife can take care of herself. I'm excited and tired and dirty and excited (I wrote that, didn't I?) and I miss you. Above all, I miss you. To keep away the loneliness, I'm working very hard. It is an amazing thing to see. Everyone is so happy I'm here and going out of their way to make me comfortable and content. The children are adorable and so eager to learn. I feel very useful. And I miss you. Please understand my-enthusiasm. I'm using it as a shield against my need and love and desire to be with you."
She signed her name, Jane, with love and kisses, folded the letter neatly, put it in an envelope, sealed it, wrote out Bob's address back east - Boston, to be exact - licked a stamp, thumped it with her fist and sat back in her chair with a yawn so deep it curled her toes and stretched her arms. She looked at the clock and yawned again. It was only eight thirty but she felt like it was 2:00 A.M.
She had been driving all day over the flat tabletop land of Kansas, determined to get to her destination before dark. Everything in Kansas seemed much closer than it really was. Or maybe it seemed further away. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. She was so tired, she couldn't think straight.
She got up and moved around her little camper in a loose sleepy way, straightening up, smoothing out the bed then checking the curtains on the windows before undressing. Jane, just turned twenty-one, on her own for the first time in her life, had a voluptuous young body. She kicked off her cowgirl boots, wiggled her tight tantalizing hips out of her jeans and took off her checkered blouse, throwing all of her clothes in a hamper and stood in her bare feet, clad only in a bra and thin white little panties.
Her body was Jane's biggest problem and a source of concern to her fiance, Bob Eggers, far away in Boston. It was simply too good. It had been a source of concern and near-raging frustration when they were together in Boston. Jane couldn't help it. Physically, she was at the zenith of her life. Later, if she wasn't careful, she would have a weight problem. Now, she was just right, filled out to the utmost in all the right places. Her breasts were large and heavy yet firm and pointed in a way that could only bring attention to them. They were fine protruding melons, smooth and perfectly round.
Her stomach was slightly rounded and soft as a baby's breath, yet firm. Her buttocks were like sponge rubber and constantly undulated in a provocatively teasing way whenever she walked or even moved. Had she been short, her figure might have been too heavy, but she wasn't short. Jane's legs were long and equally well-formed. When she wore her jeans, her thighs seemed to protrude enticingly and her whole lower torso directed attention to her pubic mound which seemed to snuggle in her warm soft flesh like a prize to be sought.
It was her face that took people back. With such a figure one would expect a girl with a showgirl face. Yet, Jane Simpson came from a very old and good Washington family. Her profile was elegant, almost regal and aloof. In fact, when she had pulled into migrant workers' camp earlier that day, when she stepped out of the bus and was greeted by the workers and their families, the men present had taken their hats off. This was a lady. She was also a schoolteacher and Jane went about her business with an efficient enthusiasm. Before she was through, she had already formed classes, distributed books and assigned students times and tasks.
And she had loved the people. Always, she had felt she wanted to help what she called "the common people, the people who are the backbone of this nation". Now her chance had come and she was elated, floating on air. For one year she would travel through the southwest, teaching young, underprivileged people who had never had a chance to set foot in a school. Sponsored by a private foundation that her uncle was head of, she had browbeat him, her family, and Bob into letting her have a chance at doing something worthwhile. She was persistent and eloquent in her campaign and finally won reluctant approval. Bob had been the hardest to convince. No matter how they had discussed the project, he simply couldn't see her going off by herself with "a lot of goons", and not seeing him (except for vacation visits) for one whole year. Jane tolerated his remarks up to a point, then she accused him of being a bigot. Bob, his handsome face serious and dark, had nodded with a growing anger. "Oh, so that's it now, huh? I don't understand the working man and I have no compassion for my fellow man. I have no humanity, huh? Let me tell you, I was in the army and I saw those guys in action. I'm not being a bigot, I'm being realistic. Jane, for God's sake, there's a difference between being real and being poor. We both know some well-to-do people who are pretty real, too. Just because a person is poor doesn't always mean they're nice."
Standing in her camper, Jane unclasped her bra and her breasts seemed to leap with elation, glad they were free. They stood out, causing a deep and sensual cleavage as they shook slightly as she walked. She shook her head sadly. Her parting with Bob had not been good. Hooking her thumbs into her panties, she wiggled out of them, peeling them off as if they were a second skin, her buttocks quivering and shifting. She stood erect, naked, her lovely long body soft and sensual in the dim light of the camper. Her hands softly ran down over her nakedness, feeling the firm curve of her hips, the slimness of her waist and the full voluptuous richness of her breasts, her nipples hardening slightly as she rubbed her fingers over them.
She closed her eyes and thought of her last evening with Bob. He had taken her out to dinner that night, a night of farewell for almost a year. He had drunk too much during dinner and had insisted on going to a favorite bar of his near the Commons where all his advertising friends hung out.
He had drunk too much, finally getting surly with her. Reluctantly, Jane asked to be taken home. Having worked in the mail room of Bob's advertising agency, she had her own little apartment. Outside her door, although still drunk, Bob became contrite and apologized, asking if he could come up to say goodbye. Jane was relieved and let him come up and placed him on a couch while she made strong black coffee in her kitchenette.
Bob had been good for awhile, drinking the coffee and asking for a refill. Jane understood; after all, she was leaving the man she was going to marry. It was a big moment in her life and she wanted it to be right. She rationalized that Bob drank so much because he was so upset.
Then he began to get amorous. And that too, was all right. She loved Bob, wanted to marry him and be his wife and the mother of his children. Always, she wanted to give herself to him, for she felt passion sweep through her body like a brush-fire as he grew bolder and more forceful. Her long black hair fell loose under his fumbling and he had her bent back on her couch, her breasts jutting upward under her dress in a brazen invitation. She had struggled, trying to push him away with a warning, "Bob!"
Usually one admonition from her was enough. But not that night. Her struggles only seemed to excite him all the more as he looked down and saw her syrupy young body writhing sensuously under her dress. Then his hands were on her thighs, stroking them, exploring boldly and roughly. "Bob! St-" was all she could get out before he kissed her hard on the mouth. Jane made the mistake of relaxing for a minute. It felt so good with his arms crushing her and his mouth on hers. It was all the encouragement he needed. He was like an animal, grunting and breathing through his nose. His hot tongue shot into her mouth and she stiffened against her own desire to do the same.
It seemed like he had fourteen pawing hands and they were everywhere, all over her body, as he pushed her down on the couch and was half on top of her. "Bob!" she exclaimed, pulling her mouth free for a moment, "For God's sake, stop this!"
"Why?" he snarled and Jane looked at his face, her eyes wide. He was drunk, unreasonably drunk, and didn't know what he was saying or doing. When he had been quiet and polite before, he had simply been numb. Now the alcohol had triggered a deep desire in him and his eyes were glazed and unseeing, his face was twisted in a way she had never seen before and his breath reeked of scotch. "Why?" he asked again, taunting. "Give ya a li'l goin' way present," he said thickly, "Gonna do it for those workers anyway." He looked boastful. "You're gonna do it for your fee-ance-say." He laughed hard and low and started pawing her body again, pulling her dress up with a sneer on his face.
"Bob, this is me, Jane," she said in a frightened voice, trying to penetrate his alcoholic fog. "Bob don't ruin it all. Stop. Please. Remember our promise!" The promise she was trying to remind him of was one they had made long ago. No sex until marriage. Jane's parents trusted her to live alone and it seemed the least she could do was to honor their trust. It seemed silly and old fashioned, yet she liked the idea of going to her marriage bed knowing that she was giving herself for the first time to the man she loved. Bob had agreed reluctantly and had been good about it until tonight.
Now his hand was between her legs and her dress had been forced up to her hips, exposing the thin white crotch band of her panties. Her long naked legs writhed on the couch and she tried to close them and only succeeded in trapping Bob's probing hand between her strong thighs and guiding it to her nylon covered pubic curls and the softly throbbing lips of her vagina beneath them. "Ohhhhh, Bob!" she moaned as she felt his hot hand close over the thin protective material of her panties and a hot rush of pleasure throb through her belly. "Bob, for God's sake stop!" she cried, fighting harder now, fighting her own desire as much as his strength.
She struggled, managing to upset him slightly and getting her hands free. He attacked her again, a guttural snarl in his throat, drunkenly lashing out and catching a shoulder of her dress and pulling at it with all his strength, turning her half around with his force and ripping the dress down the front. "Bob Simpson, you're drunk and crazy!" she yelled, going on the defensive, trying to hold her dress together.
He stared at her like she was a stranger. "Crazy, huh?" he mumbled. He reached and tore at the dress again, ripping it away from her body and revealing her milk-white breasts quivering under her bra. A lewd grin came over his open mouth and two brutal fingers hooked themselves in the bra and tore with relentless force. The bra snapped and was torn from her body and Jane tried to hide her now naked breasts with Bob, cupping the nipples defensively as Bob fought with her hands. He pulled one hand free and his mouth clamped on the naked tip like a suction cup and Jane struggled, her head back, his hot mouth sucking at her nipple making it grow hard and taut. "Bob, stop, stop before it's too late, oh, God, stop!" she pleaded softly as she struggled, subdued, her body writhing in a kind of sensual rhythm to the inner pulsating of pleasure she was feeling involuntarily rising in her body.
Her dress was now a torn rag with Bob's hands tearing, pawing, caressing and the one hand still between her legs and the fingers massaging her vagina through her rapidly moistening panties. One finger protruded, forcing the band between her rapidly swelling and parting vaginal lips. The nylon of her panties, aided by his ravaging finger was hurting her and yet exciting her at the same time as it worked its way inexorably toward her vagina and clitoris. She felt a dampness of excitement between her legs and her breath was coming deeper and faster.
He bent her back again, the small of her back bending over one padded arm of the couch and her head fell back and her breasts jutted upward all the more. More quickly than she thought he could move, his mouth flew to her other breast and his tongue licked at the nipple as his lips closed over it and sucked. He sucked hard, hard enough to hurt. But it didn't, it felt good. It felt very good and aroused a dark passionate side of her that had remained dormant except for wild lewd dreams she sometimes had. Now she was nearly naked and helpless and loving it! Her mouth parted in a slow, lewdly accepting smile and she felt as if her whole body was swimming in warm butter and Bob's mouth closed over her heatedly pulsating breast was driving her mad!
Then, grunting, he started taking off his own clothes, pulling his pants down and kicking them off. He fumbled for a moment then squirmed over on top of her and she felt his heavy hard weight on her nearly naked body as his arms kept her from falling over the arm. And she felt something else! For the first time since she had known him, she felt his hot male hardness pressed against her thigh! It was so exciting and lewd! "Bob!" she murmured again. "Oh God, Bob!"
But now one of his arms reached down and he slid his fingers between her hip and the panties and began pulling them down, tugging wildly, then lost all control and ripped them completely from her helplessly squirming loins.
"No, no, no!" she pleaded, but it was too late, the panties were torn away, the tattered remnants hanging loosely down on one thigh. He had accomplished his purpose, her vagina was nakedly exposed along with the softly curling down of her pubic hair. Jane, moaning helplessly now, felt his cock, huge and throbbing, press forcefully between her thighs and he pushed down hard, then began pumping slowly back and forth. "Bob, stop, you've got to! I'll never speak to you again! Stop!" She groaned helplessly beneath him, her long silken hair flailing vainly from side to side.
Yet he couldn't stop, possibly couldn't even hear her as he went about prying her legs apart with his one hand while his other hand bent her back over the arm of the couch and his mouth greedily sucked at her breasts, leaving the nipples tense and wet. Slowly, with brute force, his nails digging into the insides of her thighs, he forced her legs open and, as she cried out, she could feel his thick prick slip between her legs and the blunt end of it push against her involuntarily lubricated cunt, spreading the eager vaginal lips and something in her turned to jelly. It felt so lewd! She remembered the thought going through her mind: if I had known how good it was, I'd do it all the time!
A shudder of wild, unwanted pleasure racked her body, relaxing all of her muscles and she closed her eyes with a long sigh that dropped down into a moan as she felt the smooth, rubbery head of his cock slipping up, its path lubricated by her growing excitement, spreading her vaginal lips until they hurt. But they hurt deliciously. Despite herself, her hips wiggled and undulated and her cunt, the tingling edges of her vagina, throbbed in growing hunger.
Bob felt her responding underneath her and shifted his weight, pulling back and gazing at her naked body with the tattered remains of her dress and panties still clinging to it and he grinned like a greedy and lewd rapist, his eyes glazed with alcohol and desire. He pulled her down on her back on the couch and pressed his body harder down on top of her, causing her to gasp for breath, his cock again probing, searching hungrily for her defenseless young cunt.
If she hadn't seen his face, she might have gone on, she might have followed her equally wild desire and given herself to him. No, it wasn't right! He was drunk and brutal and probably wouldn't even remember the next day. She wasn't Jane, his love, the woman he was going to marry. She was at this moment, anybody, a naked female body to ravish!
Her upbringing her sense of honor and her love for the tender Bob came welling up, dampening the passion. Putting her hands on his shoulders and using every bit of strength she had, she closed her eyes and shoved and twisted him to one side. She caught him by surprise in his drunken stupor and he tried to grab her but it was too late and he fell off the couch and crashed to the floor on his back, his head hitting a corner of the coffee table on the way down. He fell with a crash and lay still, his eyes closed.
"Bob?" she called softly, covering her breasts and drawing her knees up as she looked down at him. "Bob, are you all right? Bob don't play games, answer me!" Concern made her widen her eyes and with a little cry, she slipped off the couch and knelt beside him, naked, her breasts practically hanging in his face as she bent to hear his breathing. With a sigh of relief, she pulled back one eyelid and only saw white.
Her fear made her forget she was naked and she got to her feet and ran across the room, her buttocks swaying, her breasts bouncing, as she fled to the bathroom and came back with a cold washrag. She knelt by him again and was startled by a loud snore coming from him. She laughed, more in relief than anything. He had simply passed out!
She sat next to him, weak with relief, applying the cold rag to her own forehead. She looked down at him and at his exposed penis, still half erect, sticking out of his underwear. She bent over it and examined it closely. A wild thought was in her mind, something that she wanted to do, something with her mouth, so lewd and obscene, she didn't dare give it a name. With a shudder, she pulled herself back. Only perverts and prostitutes did a thing like that.
She had put on a bathrobe and made a bed for Bob right there on the floor. He had been too big and heavy and too deeply asleep to move. She had gone to bed to toss and turn, excited by the coming morning and the night with Bob. Before she dropped into a restless exhausted sleep, she thought: I've got a lot to learn about myself.
And now, in the camper, naked, feeling again the lewd promise and thrill of that night, she pulled on a robe and stepped into shower clogs, picked up the letter, a bar of soap and a towel and stepped out of the trailer into the hot Kansas night. Above were the stars in panoramic display, slowly wheeling overhead with the Milky Way on display, full of more stars then she could count and a luminous dust. It was so beautiful and she thought of how few stars one could see from Boston.
She stood for a moment, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the dark. The migrant worker camp was surprising to her, a lot cleaner and neater than she had expected. The workers lived with their families in little cottages with the single workers, make and female, living in separate barracks. Jane peered around, trying to get her bearings. There weren't too many lights on except for the houses and barracks because there wasn't any need for them. She tried to remember where the mailbox was. It probably was down by the admissions office. The office was run by a Mrs. Ramon. Maria Ramon, a young Mexican-American widow, her husband having been killed last year in a harvester accident. Beyond the admissions office was the shower room that everyone in the camp used.
Jane set off at an assured pace, walking across the parking area and striding up to the office. It was dark and she thought she could let herself in, drop the letter to Bob in the mailbox inside and go take a much needed shower. Her hand was on the doorknob when she froze, hearing a sound. She looked around quickly. What was it, a wild animal? Her heart was pounding against her ribcage as if it were trying to batter its way free when she heard the sound again.
"Oooooooooh!!!!" The sound swelled and grew high and Jane stepped back from the door, not knowing what to do. "Ohhhhhh," she heard the same voice say, a full octave lower. "Oh, baby, Chico, do it, do it, DO IT!!!"
Jane was stunned. Maria Ramon, the voice had to be Maria's and she was not alone. As she stood, rooted to the spot, she could hear other sounds coming from inside, small sounds that were suggestive of... She shook her head and started to walk quietly away, figuring that what was going on in the admissions office was none of her business.
Then, a deep dark cry from inside made her stop in her tracks again. It was possible that Maria was in trouble. It could be. Jane's brow wrinkled in an unaccustomed frown and her elegant society good looks were worried. On an impulse, she turned and tip-toed to the window next to the door. Licking her lips, she looked around, trying to see if anyone was out. It wouldn't look right if, on her first night in the camp, she was discovered peeking in windows.
Nothing moved in the camp and far out over the fields, she heard the lonely sound of a dog howling at the moon. She stood on tiptoe and looked in the window. What she saw almost made her scream. There was a cot right by the window on which Maria - or whomever was on duty-sometimes slept during the harvest season when people were arriving and leaving at all times of the night and day.
And Jane was looking down on Maria lying stark naked on the bed with a man who was also naked! Maria was in rapture, her head thrown back, her mouth open, her eyes closed, her arms thrown above her head as the man's hands rhythmically massaged her naked breasts with his bare hard worker's hands. Maria's knees were bent out as far as they could go and pulled up crablike and spread wide, exposing the whole of her moistly glistening cunt to the man. Jane couldn't see his face because it was buried tight up between her thighs, his tongue and mouth licking like he was a starving beast and Maria was writhing, twisting, moaning with pleasure as she suddenly grit her teeth and hissed, "Eat it, eat it, ohhhhh, eat me up!"
Jane leaped away from the window as if she had just gotten and electric shock, her hand over her mouth.
She spun on her heel, jamming the letter into the pocket of her robe and half-running, half-walking toward the showers. She had never imagined Maria Ramon to be like that! She was going to have to revise her opinion of her. She clenched her fists. She was going to do something about things like that! She would use all her moral force to stop perversion like that! She didn't know who the naked man was, but she would find out and bring conduct like that to an end!
She was almost shaking with indignation and rage as she followed the sign and painted arrow that said, WOMEN, and stepped into the showers. It was a big room, lean, dimly lit by a single bulb near the ceiling. Stalls, open on one side, lined one wall. Jane, trying to forget what she saw, turned a nozzle and water leaped out of a shower head in a fine needle spray and, as she held her hand under it, she felt it grow hot and steam rise up around her. She grinned in relief and quickly took off her robe and stepped nakedly out of her shower clogs while adjusting the cold water, getting the shower just right and stepping under it with a contented sigh.