Chapter 3
Seattle, like Rome, is built on seven hills. The similarity ends there. For Seattle is no ancient pantheon to the human spirit; it was, is, and probably always will be, a boom town. Born in a stand of virgin timber, tempered by the Alaskan gold rush, Seattle is a money town. And while the natural beauty of the surrounding country cannot be denied, the storied, crumbling ruins along the Alaska Way waterfront and the nearby First Avenue arcade district, give mute and constant testimony to those who have taken their money and run. On the fourth and final story of one such building, the entire level of which was occupied by the Trans-Pacific Import Company, the lights still burned long past the end of the normal working day. Jason Trimble was holding a meeting.
Jason Trimble. At fifty, he was still a powerful figure of a man, and though known to few, he commanded an almost automatic respect from those he came in contact with. He was tall, and a little gray at the temples, and he had the ruthless black eyes of a killer shark.
"Benny, you're falling a little behind in your collections lately."
Benny Mendez, an employee of Trimble's for the past eleven years, felt his knees tremble slightly at his employer's measured reprimand. Not only that, but the sight of voluptuous Rita, Jordan, Trimble's dark-haired private secretary, sucking the boss's cock beneath the huge mahogany desk while he and the two other men stood there at attention, had him badly unnerved.
"I-I'm sorry boss, I just been havin' a little trouble findin' all the people."
Jason eyed the pudgy Mexican-American speculatively, his fingers idly entwining themselves in Rita's mane of long chestnut-colored hair as if he were stroking a cat.
"Sorry doesn't buy it anymore, Benny. I've had to take over a few collections myself."
"I-If you mean that Potter guy ... I mean, I couldn't get a hold of him, boss!"
"Bullshit," Trimble returned without a trace of emotion in his voice, "I talked to the son-of-a-bitch today, on the phone at his butcher shop."
Mendez' face reddened deeply. There was no excuse, he knew, and trying to invent one would only make things harder on him. Besides, watching Rita, his own sister, sucking Trimble's cock had him so excited he had to get out of there and get himself a piece of tail before he started to cum in his pants.
"You've been spending most of your time balling the cocktail waitresses at the Brown Betty, haven't you!"
"Sure, boss ... I go in there once in awhile, but-"
"And you've been putting your drinks on the cuff, too!"
Benny gulped nervously. He'd been warned before about taking advantage of his privileged position at Trimble's upper-crust night spot in the Fourth Avenue financial district.
"Gimme another chance, boss!"
Jason Trimble smiled in amusement at the beads of sweat popping out on the squirming man's forehead. The fact that it was the man's own sister sucking him off beneath his desk, and that her husband Artie was also in the room with them, caused another tremor of sadistic excitement to churn in his balls. Rita was such a hot little number too, and as lovely in her soft, Latin sort of way, as dew on a buttercup. It was hard for Jason Trimble to understand how such a fat ugly bastard like Benny could have such a beautiful little sister.
"I'm going to have to teach you a lesson, Benny."
"Aw, boss, c'mon ... I work for you eleven years now!"
Jason Trimble's lust-engorged penis swelled even larger in Rita's velvet mouth.
"I understand you just got married, Benny. A pretty little Filipino girl, from what I understand."
Again, Benny gulped nervously. It was true, he had gotten married, and it was a fact he'd been trying his best to conceal from his boss, knowing how that boss was when it came to women. Por dios, it'd only been three weeks! But then, he should have known better than to conceal something like that from Jason Trimble.
"Yeah, boss," he grinned ineffectually, "real nice girl. Only nineteen, but quien sabe - who knows, about love, eh?"
Benny could feel his heart pounding mightily against his chest. His Tina was such a tiny girl, and so innocente!
"Either you take the punishment, or your new little wife takes it, Benny. The choice is yours."
Mendez blinked at him nervously.
"W-What kind of punishment, boss?"
He could only hope it wasn't something physical. He couldn't take pain.
"Take off your belt and show the man, 'Toad'," Jason grinned evilly up to his gargantuan number-one henchman, the only one who still seemed to be in full control of his faculties after watching the arousing spectacle of Rita's performance.
"Toad" Benko, though no one but Jason Trimble had ever had enough nerve to call him that to his face, obediently stripped the wide, steel-studded belt from around his barrel waist. Unprompted, he folded it in half, and using his thumb to make a loop, gave it a loud snap against his palm. Benny, his whole body shaking with fear, felt like he was going to faint right then and there.
Trimble watched the paling man with infinite satisfaction. He knew from long experience what Benny's reactions would be. Benny was a coward, who, when given unfair advantage, like all cowards, could be a positively ruthless bully. Artie was the same way. It was what made both men valuable to Trimble's organization. Benko wasn't a coward, but then, Benko wasn't exactly a man, either. He was the only guy Jason had ever met who could cum just from watching someone die.
"Well, Benny?"
"O-Okay, boss. You want Tina, you can have her. She's a real good piece of ass, boss, and she sucks a cock like a real pro!"
"Get your fat ass out of here before I puke!" Jason bellowed suddenly. "And make sure your little pussy is standing here in front of my desk tomorrow night with her panties in her hand, comprende?"
"Yeah, boss, sure, sure," the relieved fat man breathed excitedly, half running towards the door. "She's a real fine piece of ass, boss, you gonna love fucking my Tina! And slap her around a little, too, boss ... I been trainin' her real good!"
"Out!"
As soon as the door had closed quietly behind Benny, Jason turned his attention back to his remaining two employees.
"Okay, let's get down to business. Toad, you and me are going to pay the Potter guy a little visit Thursday. We've been carrying his account for too long now, and I've got an inside shot on a new dope trial for my son if I can get some money to the right people."
"Sure, Mr. Trimble," the giant replied in a voice deep enough to reassemble shattered crystal. "Thursday."
"And, Artie ... oh, for Christ's sake, man, straighten your cock out before it snaps in half and falls in your shoe! ... that's better. Artie, I want you to run a little errand for me tonight. You won't need your 'heater' or your 'peter' on this one." He fished around in his inside coat pocket, and produced a folded piece of paper. "Jeff's girl friend. He called me a little while ago, and said she was standing out in the rain waiting for someone to give her a ride over to her friend's house. Take the black Continental."
"Yeah, sure, boss!"
Damn! the hawk-faced, sycophantic Artie Jordan fumed inwardly. Just when things was starting to get good! There was nothing in this world Rita's husband liked better than watching some guy, especially someone cool like the boss, blow his nuts into his nakedly kneeling, sucking wife's face. And now, he was doubly excited over the prospect of his brother-in-law's wife getting hers the next night. Of course, he had a ringside seat to that little cock-stirring affair, since he'd been the one to tell the boss that Benny was married in the first place, but that wasn't going to do him any good tonight. Besides, an important guy like him had better things to do with his time than play chauffeur to some snot-nosed kid's girl friend! Even if the kid was the boss's son!
"And, Artie?"
"Yeah, boss?"
"Take your time. Little Rita here is going to be busy for quite awhile yet."
Mikki Chalmers gently eased her tired body down into the fluid comfort of the bubbly bathwater. It had been an absolutely trying day, and that little episode with her younger sister at dinner had left her slightly on edge. In retrospect, the svelte honey blonde supposed she shouldn't have said anything to daddy about Jacqui's going out with Jeff Trimble, but then, Jacqui had had no call to say those things about her, either. Maybe daddy was a little unreasonable comparing them all the time, but that wasn't her fault! Besides, he was still Jacqui's father, and she owed him a certain amount of respect.
God, the water felt good ... almost sexy the way it caressed her sore, aching muscles. It wasn't easy wrestling two energetic toddlers all day long, no matter how cute they were, and these nightly forays in the bathtub were about the only times Mikki had to herself these days. God, she wished Ward were home! What she needed, and needed bad, was a good fucking!
That's probably why I've been acting so "bitchy "lately ... no sex!
She stretched her still-trim, slightly tanned legs out full length in the tub, and admired their sculpted loveliness. They weren't as long or as slender as her little sister's, but still disproportionately long for her five-foot five-and-a-half inch height. And anyway, Jacqui was only fifteen years old, and nearly two inches taller, and hadn't had two kids, either! Mikki's hands idly soaped the washcloth, and began to lather her fragile arms. She stared with near-narcissistic satisfaction at her full, wide-set round breasts jiggling with the motions of her washing, and smiled wanly.
That's where it counts! she mused, deeply proud of the fact that though the rest of her body had recovered from her pregnancy with only the merest traces of motherhood, her breasts had remained the same swollen size they had been when they were filled with milk. Lovingly, she soaped their alabaster softness, using her bare hands in lieu of the rough washcloth, and immediately felt her nipples perk up against her gently probing fingers. No longer their former virginal pink, they looked even sexier in their present, post-natal beige. Rinsing the soap from them, she weighed them heavily in her hands, proud of the fact that even after having skipped a full cup size, from B to C, there was still only the slightest hint of sag in them - and none at all when she inhaled deeply. And despite some of the wives tales she'd been told concerning everything from breast cancer to complete collapse - including some from her own mother - Mikki was glad that she had chosen to breast-feed the girls, and infinitely proud of the fact that she had been able to provide enough milk for both of them.
Her hands left her breasts, lightly smoothing down into the water over the velvet softness of her lower torso, stopping at her narrow waist as she sucked in her breath to see how tiny she could make it.
Not too bad ... for a "mommy", she laughed with satisfaction.
Her delicate, fine-boned fingers traced down farther, then, to the barely discernible rise of her abdomen. The few inevitable stretch marks that remained were so faint by now as to be virtually unnoticeable, but she mused that though her tummy was nearly as flat as it had been when she was a teenager, there was a certain softness to it that would require some conscientious exercise to firm back up. She straightened her legs then, resting her heels on the edge of the tub on either side of the faucet, careful not to get her crisply cut, Sassoon hair style wet. It was her crowning glory, her golden blonde hair, and everyone said it looked sooo attractive cut jaw-length on one side and shoulder-length on the other. Besides, with the twins, it was definitely more practical than her former long style.
Inevitably, the twenty-three year old housewife's unconsciously searching hands found the tender swell of her pubic mound. Almost idly, she began to entwine her fingers in the sparse curls of darker blonde pubic hair there.
Oh, God! ... I wish Ward was back from Morocco ... !
Then, with a stomach-churning thrill of anticipation deep in the pit of her belly, she parted the delicate curls between her legs, and began to massage the swollen coral bud of her rapidly distending clitoris with the tip of her long pink-painted fingernail. She knew what she was about to do ... God knows she'd done it enough times in the past, whenever Ward was out of town for any length of time. But this time was something else again! Ward had never taken an out-of-town contract for more than a few weeks at a time, and good money or not, she was now as randy as a female cat in heat! She almost, though not quite, regretted having given Ward such an emphatic "No!" when he'd suggested joining that swap club a few months back.
She chuckled loudly then, wondering what daddy and mama would think of their wonderful, straight-laced son-in-law if they knew that he'd be willing to exchange their daughter's body for the use of some other girl's. But then, that was just Ward, and though the idea had, and still did, intrigue her, she knew that she would never violate her marriage vows ... not for a few years, anyway, until she got bored with him, that is. Ward was just horny, that's all. The big athletic bastard never had adjusted to not having girls fall all over him anymore since he'd quit playing high school football.
Mikki often wondered what it would be like making love to someone else, but she put it down to curiosity mostly, since no one but Ward had ever touched her before. She had her fantasies though, and so did he, and both admitted that they might have missed out on something by having gotten married so young. Still, she preferred some of their more elaborate sexual games to the realities, and potentially sticky situations intrinsic to actually swapping mates with another couple. And even now, as her extended middle finger began to slither wetly in between her quivering vaginal lips, her mind was on one of those elaborate games - the one where she would lie in the tub, much as she was doing now, and Ward would barge in with his old starter pistol, and pretend he was a rapist; jerking her out of the soapy water and bending her forward over the edge of the tub while h e took her from behind. Oh, Ward... Ward ... anybody! She moaned as her middle finger jerked faster at her tiny pulsating clitoris beneath the bubbly bathwater.
"Are you really a gangster?"
Artie blinked nervously at the young blonde teenager perched coyly next to him on the front seat of the sleek black Lincoln Continental.
She sure is a pretty thing, he swallowed tightly as the light changed and he set the car back in motion. Too bad she's so goddamn young ... and going with the boss's punk-assed son.
"Where'd you say your friend lives?"
"On Beacon Hill ... Are you a gangster, or not?"
She sure is a persistent little bitch.
"You been watchin' too many movies, kid."
"Everybody at school says Jeff's dad is in the mob."
"Aw, c'mon. Where'd they come up with something like that? ... . Mr. Trimble ain't in no goddamn mob!"
He glanced at his watch, reflexively. Right now, he ought to be about eight inches into my wife!
"They say he deals dope, and runs a gambling room in the International District and a whole lot of other things."
Somebody better shut his fuckin' mouth!
"Naw, that ain't true. The boss's got an import business, everything's legitimate."
"I bet it's just a front."
Artie fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette, found one, popped it into his mouth, and reached for the dash lighter, only to discover that she'd beaten him to it. He kept one eye on the roadway, and the other on her as she depressed the lighter, waited for it to pop out and held it for him while he lit his cigarette. Damn, she was a foxy little bitch! And all legs! He felt a nervous twitch in his trousers as he continued staring sidelong at her, while her skirt rode up close to her cunt. She'd already taken off her raincoat, and with one leg curled under her so that she sat half facing him, she began to inch a little closer to him.
"It's a little hot in here, don't you think?" he said, reaching for the window button.
"No. Do you?"
He cracked open the window.
"If Mr. Trimble runs a legitimate company, what do you do for him?"
Artie scratched his chinless jaw, thinking. "I-I'm an accountant," he stammered.
"Oh, really? she dimpled wryly, drawing her other nylon-covered leg up under her. "What kind of accounting do you do?"
"Uh, well ... I'm not an accountant kind of accountant if you know what I mean ... I mean I settle accounts for Mr. Trimble."
Casually Jacqui draped her arm over the back of the seat and rested her chin on her hand, eyeing the tightly swallowing man with profound amusement, almost as if she were mesmerized by his bobbing Adams apple. "Do you beat people up?"
He cast a pained expression in her direction. Christ, her skirt was halfway up to her neck, and he could see the crotchband of her panties in the shadowy softness up between her long golden legs! "Hey, knock it off, will ya? ... Where the hell do I turn, anyway?"
Timidly, the fifteen year old blonde raised her head and squinted through the silently whisking windshield wipers. "Left."
"Left? That's Seward Park!"
Boldly now, resolute in the decision she'd made the moment Jeff had told her he wouldn't be able to pick her up, Jacqui reached over and began to stroke the lengthening bulge in Artie Jordan's slacks. "You know, man," she said. "You look like a gangster, and you talk like a gangster ... but you sure as hell don't act like one!"
Mikki's entire pelvis was sticking above the water line of the bathtub, as she arched her body upwards to reach the stiffly probing slenderness of her long-nailed middle finger slithering so deliciously up into her voraciously clinging pussy. Oh, that feels so gooood! she mewled. I guess I'm just a little whore at heart, after all!
It wouldn't take long to cum tonight, she knew, and she could only hope that her climax would be more richly rewarding than her former self-induced orgasms had been in the past. Her finger dipped in and out in an ever increasing tempo of unpented emotion. She loved fucking - God, did she ever! - and knew that it was only a matter of time before she would take that big and final step to infidelity. What would another man's cock feel like thrust up deep inside me? she blushed. Would it be all thick and hot and stiff? ... Would it cum lots and lots? ... Would it last longer than 'Quick Draw McWard'? She wondered what it would be like to experience multiple orgasms, like she had heard some women could. Sometimes Ward was a little too much man for his own good - sometimes, often, leaving her with no climax at all, or at best a very feeble one. The few times he had been especially patient with her, she had found that she was capable of a full and deeply ' rewarding orgasmic experience - particularly when they were both feeling imaginative enough to invent a story situation to accompany their frantic copulation. Ward liked to 'dirty' up his sex, and for a straight-shooter like him, Mikki found it to be a peculiar, though enjoyable, quirk. Once, when he was feeling particularly clever, he made her dress up like a pre-adolescent girl, while he drove around the block a few times molesting her with his hands before going home to make passionate love. And another time, when she and Ward had been helping daddy do some inventorying at the butcher shop, he'd gotten her alone in the back room and had screwed her on the cutting block, all bloody from the previous day's work.
But then, there were some ways that Ward could also be an absolute prude when it came to sex. Like Frenching, for instance. One of her friends, and a former cheerleader like herself, Patty Higgins, had 'sixty-nined' with positive regularity, some of the better known players on the high school football team. But try as she might, the always curious Mikki had never been able to get her handsome athlete husband to try it. "Cocks and pussies are for sex," he'd told her, " ... mouths are for talking and eating." Oh, pooh!
Mikki's free hand found her breasts again then, as she arched her lower body still farther up out of the sudsy bath water. She could feel her now prolifically flowing cuntal secretions trickling down into the shallow crevice that separated her firm upper thighs from the smooth and quivering moons of her milk-white buttocks. "Fuck!" she hissed aloud, rolling the lewd word on her tongue like a sweet and forbidden candy. "Co c k ... c u n t ... suck ... asshole!" She didn't know why saying those words out loud, though of necessity not too loud, gave her such pleasure, but she guessed that it might have something to do with the role of 'dutiful daughter' she'd been more or less coerced into playing all her life, particularly now that she was temporarily back home again. It wasn't easy being daddy's little girl after four years of marriage ... and sex!
Slowly, agonizingly, she slipped another slender finger up into her too-long neglected vagina to join the other one busily churning her belly to a virtual sexual froth. Oh, God, Ward! ... One day well join your swap club! In and out, in and out, faster and faster, her fingers" sliced into the softly yielding flesh of her cunt. In and out ... in and out... Oh, Christ, if I could only go a little deeper, I could - her passion-glazed green eyes fell suddenly on an!' object resting against the wall between the tub; and the toilet; the long-handled plastic back-scrubbing brush! Oh God, what she couldn't do with that!
The frustrated twenty-three year of housewife's pink-nailed fingers continued to tweak and pinch lewdly at the distended nipples of her alabaster breasts as the hand that had just been between her legs now strained for the scrub brush. Then, grasping it firmly above the bristles, she plunged it into the water and began worming the cool plastic length of the handle obscenely up into her passion-slick vaginal sheath until almost half of its red-painted length was sunk deep between her trembling white thighs. Then, without hesitating, the moaning young blonde began pumping the bath brush in and out of her hungering vagina, watching her soft coral pussy lips turn inward around the smooth polished handle on the in-stroke, and then cling wetly to it as it pulled back out. It was wicked and wrong ... and beautiful! "Fuck," she repeated. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She closed her eyes and pretended that she was already in Ward's little swap club. She imagined that she was undergoing some kind of ritualistic initiation, where she was being fucked by the biggest cock in the club, a cock that belonged to somebody truly evil ...like her former classmate, Barry Trimble. Oh, God, no! ... not that! she panicked, immediately forcing the lewd picture from her mind. Well, and look what had happened to him - selling dope now to high school kids! Still, her mind rambled on, imagining ever more lusty postures, and ever more wicked sex partners. She wanted more. She wanted to do something truly awful!
Quickly, she flipped over on her knees in the bathtub, and bracing the bristled end of the scrub brush firmly between her slender calves, she reinserted it into the eagerly sucking mouth of her aching pussy. "Oh, yess! ... that's it!" She envisioned herself a lowly slave girl, kneeling before her cruel and sadistic master ... or that she was being loaned by that master to a visiting sheikh or wicked caliph. "Sperm ... cunt ... jism. .. whore... "
She rocked back and forth on trembling knees in the wildly slapping bathwater, surprised at how much of the red-painted brush handle she could absorb up between her legs. She could feel the juices in her warmly seeping cunt begin td, build to a light and syrupy froth as she chanted in masochistic delirium, "Oh yes, Master!' l hope I please you, Master!"
Supporting herself on her elbow, then, the lewdly kneeling blonde raked her pink. fingernails across the ripe, hanging mounds of her breasts, leaving faint red-trails on their alabaster whiteness. She could feel the spiked out points of her nipples grazing the warm soapy water of the tub, as one hand sneaked back to caress the obscenely raised firmness of her ass-cheeks. Tenderly, Mikki began to work a single slender middle finger into the tightly puckered opening of her own anus, careful not to tear her resisting nether flesh on her long fingernails. Gradually, it sank in to the second knuckle. "OOOoooh, God ... that's so good Master!" she crooned, still submerged in her lust-provoking fantasy.
Her finger sank in to the palm of her hand and began to parody the in and out motions of the brush handle fucking into her cunt below Her mind flew on to other fancies. She was a poor Jewish girl in a Nazi joy camp; she was a Pike Street prostitute. Her melon-like breasts danced and swayed in obscene cadence in the roiling bathwater. She was cumming ... ! The waves of self-induced orgasm were rolling over her helplessly kneeling body, convulsing her naked belly and dominoing outward over her flesh until, weak with passion, Mikki almost collapsed down into the soapy bathwater.
"Aaaaauuuuuggggghhhh!!! Oh, God, yesssss!" she panted. "Fuck me ... FUCK ME!" And she jammed the red-handled bath brush tighter up into her crazily spasming vagina as her slender frame trembled and shook and her mind swam with the force of her climax.
Gradually, her body began to relax, her belly quivering in the afterglow of orgasmic bliss. The pseudo-cocks in her cunt and anus left her body, and she turned back around in the tub. It was fun imagining all those wild and wonderful things, but she knew she'd never really be unfaithful to her wonderful young husband ... not for a good many years.
As the satisfied young housewife began to scrub her still passion-reddened shoulders and back with the brush that had just fucked her cunt, she heard her parents once again shouting at each other down in the living room.
"Goddamn it, Helen, I'm going to call the cops!"
"Oh Ted, please, be reasonable! I'll bet you ten dollars Jacqui went to the movies or something with Polly Tanaka. She's only been gone a couple of hours, and after the way you treated her at dinner, I can't say I blame her, either!"
The wind chopped waters along Lake Washington's western shore tipped silver in the moonlight that filtered down through an opening in the clouds. The rain had slackened, but the tall Douglas fire that surrounded the Seward Park parking lot wept steadily, the moisture that had accumulated on several low hanging branches dripping pingingly on the roof of the sleek black Lincoln Continental parked at the farthest end. It was the only car present that dismal Tuesday night.
"It's kind of spooky, isn't it?" Jacqui said. Artie Jordan, his hand still on the ignition where he'd just finished turning off the motor, blinked nervously at the provocatively stripping teenager sharing the front seat with him. He watched her unbutton and remove her sweater, staring glumly at the enticing sight of her ripe young breasts swelling out above the pink-lace cups of her tiny brassiere. He watched her fold the sweater neatly, drape it over the back of the car seat, then reach behind her to unfasten the catches on her brassiere. She rarely wore one at all, but she had that night ... just for added enticement!
"Hey, listen, kid," the gangster's henchman swallowed dryly. "M-Maybe we shouldn't oughta be doing this."
"Are you scared?" she teased. "A big tough man like you, scared of a little girl?"
Her little pink brassiere came away then, revealing the succulent firmness of her pointed, virginal breasts. "Do you like my titties?" she asked.
Artie felt his cock stiffen in his pants, and his hands clench tightly on the rim of the steering wheel.
She smiled seductively at him, tossing her head back in an effort to get her wildly flowing mane of golden hair out of her eyes. "I'm still a cherry," she said. "Doesn't that turn you on?"
Still a cherry! Man, that punk-ass son of the boss'sure don't take after his old man!
Laying the lacy brassiere on top of the folded sweater, Jacqui began to undo the zipper that ran down the side of her short plain miniskirt. Her heart pounded frantically with determined excitement as she slipped the skimpy skirt down over her trim hips and pulled it off her feet. God, what a hot little number! Artie choked dryly.
She was down to her pantyhose and shoes then, her full-mounded young breasts rising and falling heavily with her breathing. He could see the sparse golden curls of her pussy hair poking lewdly out around the edges of her thin nylon panty-crotchband underneath her pantyhose. "Here," she said helpfully, taking his hand and guiding it between her slightly parted thighs. "Feel me. Feel how hot I am ... for you!"
The perspiring, hatchet-faced con-man rubbed his shaking hand firmly over her nylon-smooth upper thighs, his long steely forgers brushing up against her panty-covered vagina. "Y-You're wet!"
"Of course I am, silly! Just like you're all big' and hard!" She reached between his legs then,' rubbing his reluctantly stiffened penis once again. "What's you name, man?"
"A-Artie. Artie Jordan."
She fumbled with the catch on his fly,, managed to work it down, and then reached inside to grasp the lust-thickened shaft of his penis through the thin cotton barrier of his shorts. God, he's big! she thought, wondering for a minute if she really ought to go through with this obscene plan to get back at her boy friend. Then, deciding that she should, the brazen fifteen year old ground her own pelvis up to his probing fingers, and reaching inside the opening of his shorts, brought his swollen penis out into view. It was thin, but long. Very long - a couple of inches longer than her boy friend's Jeff's, at least. Slowly, voluptuously, she began to work its thin covering of foreskin up and down over the pulsing hot shaft knotted with lust-engorged veins and blood vessels. She felt a warm web of something sticky leaking from its inflamed tip, and smeared it lovingly over the fat head with the palm of her hand. "Does that feel good, Artie?"
"Oh, man! Are you sure you're a cherry, girl?"
"MMMHmm, but I've been jacking guys off since I was thirteen, and I've been fingered and dry humped by so many guys I couldn't name them all." Then, giggling; "My daddy's a butcher, so I guess you could say I've been around meat all my life!" Her fingers gripped him a little tighter, stroking up and down his wildly throbbing penis with a smooth practiced rhythm. She noticed a bump then, just behind the coronal rim on the back of his cock, and asked, "What's this?" at the same time flicking it lightly with her thumbnail.
"That's my little built-in 'tickler'," he gasped, smiling. "It's a mole."
"MMMmmm, that's nice, Artie," she breathed conspiratorially. "Would you like to fuck me with your mole now?"
She stared at him hopefully in the half-light of the moon filtering through the rain streaked windshield. He was so swarthy that it was difficult to tell how old he was, but she guessed, correctly, that he was somewhere in his early thirties. It would serve all of them right, she mused, if she lost her cherry in the back seat of a car to a greasy looking third string gangster with a mole on his cock! "Please, Artie?"
The word jail bait fused in Artie's confused brain, but things had gone too far to stop now. Christ, she was actually begging for it! And why shouldn't he? If that Trimble kid was too stupid to prune his own rosebush, it wasn't his goddamn fault! And wasn't Jeff's old man fucking around with his own of lady at that very moment? "You better take off your pantyhose, then."
Abruptly, the young high schooler released the long, spearing cock in her hand, and deftly began to unbuckle the ankle straps of her mod looking black patent platform sandals. Quickly, she removed them, and raising her trim, boyish buttocks up off the car seat, peeled off her pantyhose and her bikini panties in a swift motion, pulling her knees back nearly to her naked breasts as she stripped everything from her feet. Then, in equal haste, she gathered up her removed garments except for the trench coat and stuffed the entire pile under the front seat of the car.
"What are you doing that for?"
"Dummy! Haven't you ever done anything with a girl in a car before?"
"Yeah, sure, but-"
"If a cop comes along, all I have to do is put on my trench coat and everything's groovy, see?"
She bent back down and began to put her shoes back on. "I know you're going to ask, so I'll save you the trouble. If a cop does come along, I'd look pretty ridiculous sitting here in a trench coat, barefooted!"
She refastened the thin black ankle straps and holding her feet primly together, wiggled her long toes. "Aren't they wicked looking? My dippy brother-in-law bought them for me for my fifteenth birthday at the Crop 'n' Saddle. I think he got them for a joke, but I think they're cool ... better than that stupid Barbie Doll they got me two years ago, anyway."
Artie looked down at her long, narrow feet. It was the first time he had noticed her patent leather shoes, and they were, indeed, wicked looking. They reminded him of some of the bizarre footwear he'd seen in those sexual bondage magazines in the arcades along First Avenue. The soles were built up, and the heels were at least four-and-a-half, maybe five, inches high, with thin crisscrossing ankle straps. A crazy thrill shot through him.
"Get in back!" he ordered, beginning to take the initiative. "Kneel up over the back of the seat, facing the rear window!"
Thrilled now that her 'lover' had finally begun to show his masculinity, Jacqui Potter clambered over the seat to the back, and positioned herself as ordered. "Like this?" she asked, salaciously wiggling her naked white buttocks back at him. "Are you going to fuck me dog-style?"
He could tell by the tone of her voice that she was excited at the prospect of losing her virginity in something other than the customary missionary position. "Yeah, any objections?"
"Oh, God, no!" she wiggled. "You can fuck me any way you'd like!"
Artie quickly joined the young temptress in the back seat of the car, dropping his slacks to his knees and pressing the tapering red length of his penis into the quivering crevice between her white ass-cheeks. He rubbed slowly, arching his back up over hers so that the sparse hairs on his chest tickled against her shoulder blades. His hands slipped beneath her to grasp and squeeze the ripely pointed fruit of her breasts dangling downwards. Beyond the face of her youth and loveliness, his mind tripped lewdly over the inspiring thought that the father of this little girl's boy friend was doing similar things to his own hot little bitch of a wife Rita. Rita was an absolute whore, but there was nothing Artie liked better than to fuck her when her cunt ... or asshole ... was all thick and creamy with another man's sperm.
"Finger-fuck me first, so I'll be all nice and wet for you!"
God, this little brat was too fuckin' much! If she was this wild now, imagine what she would be like ten years from now, when she got to be Rita's age!
With vicious abandon, Artie shoved not one, but two long fingers up into Jacqui's lewdly squirming vagina, reveling in the lewd smoothness of her soft tight inner flesh. And it was tight ... my God, was it tight!
"OOOooooh, yesss, Artie! It feels so goooood!"
He raked the nail of his thumb across the hotly distended bud of her adolescent clitoris, and hunched his pounding cock unceasingly in the lust-dampened crack between her clenching ass-cheeks.
It was only a minute or two before the easily aroused Jacqui moaned, "Oh, Artie, now! I-I'm soooo ready!"
Jacqui rested her cheek on the back of the warm leather seat, inhaling deeply of its rich aroma. It was a far cry from the scratchy plastic of Jeff's Volkswagen, or her father's six year old Chevy station wagon. She wondered what it would be like to be rich - to not have to worry about what anything cost or what anyone else thought of you.
"Okay, you horny little bitch. You want it, you put it in yourself!"
God, if you were rich - really rich, not just well-to-do - you could probably hire people to have sex with; any way you wanted ...,and any time!
"I said put it in!"
Reaching back obediently between her slightly spread legs, Jacqui grasped the considerable length of Artie's pulsing hard cock and guided it right up to her excitedly quivering pussy. She parted her desire-moistened pubic curls with its huge hot flint-shaped head, flinching at the electric contact it made with her tender clitoris, and positioned it at the very entrance to her tiny virginal cunt. Immediately, he began a steady upward pressure, feeling her resisting interior flesh part reluctantly before him.
When she married Jeff - and she was determined to marry Jeff - they would be rich, and have servants, and she'd make them fuck her. A butler, and a gardener, and a chauffeur ... a big, black chauffeur ... and she'd wear wicked shoes and see-through gowns and lots of jewelry, and - and then she felt the very real pain of the moment as Artie Jordan drove his lust-engorged penis hard up into her cherry-tight little cunt.
"AAA aaaaauuuuugggghhhhh! ! ! ! Y-You're tearing me, your thing is too big! Oh God! Oh, take it out! TAKE IT OUT ... !"
God! Artie's mind exploded in blood-lust. It's like trying to fuck a beachball, she's so tight! Still, he pressed on into her futilely protesting vagina. His eyes were actually glassy by now with lascivious excitement as, despite his own discomfort, he began to enjoy the idea that he was hurting this sassy little teenager. "Well, Miss Madness, how do you like having a man take care of you for a change, instead of them pimple-face high school kids?"
"Oh, it hurts ... it huuuuurrrrtssss!" Jacqui sobbed, realizing that she had grossly underestimated the power of this man she'd thought she had wrapped around her finger. "Please take it out ... please!"
"Not on your life, baby!" he growled and twitched his punishing penis another inch up between her thighs from behind. He was little more than halfway in, but he could feel the tender, sensitive membrane of her hymen stretched to its innermost limits, beginning to tear a little. He pushed harder and felt the fragile tissue part around his thick bulbous cock-head flexing itself deeper and deeper into her hot tight womb.
"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God--" she began to chant on the verge of hysterics, wriggling and twisting in a vain attempt to free herself of the painful intruder riding her back.
In a rash of meanness, Artie grabbed both her slender arms by the wrists and pulled them behind her back, gripping them in one hand while he began to slap her straining buttocks with the other. His sex-crazed penis was about to explode with sadistic excitement. His balls churned, his whole body broke into a drenching sweat, and he was in! All the way into her virginal belly with his rock-hard rod of flesh, as her face mirrored the pain and her voice choked in her throat.
Her cheek resting against the soft leather back of the car seat as her only support, the sobbing teenage girl bit her lips against Artie's painful assault. She could feel his brutal penis ripping lance-like up into the untouched innermost recesses of her virginal cunt as a thin warm trickle of blood began to mix with their combined secretions to drip down the soft inner flesh of her thighs. She felt tender and ravage and raped, but she was determined to beg no more for Artie to stop. It was all her own damn fault, she reasoned with a sudden burst o insight, and she wished to God now that she'd never made him drive into Seward Park in the first place. There was no stopping him now, and there was no way she could prevent him from' doing whatever he wanted to her. Oh God, it. hurt! ... A deep, searing hurt, like someone had shoved a hot poker up inside of her!
"You like that, bitch?" Artie gurgled brokenly, slapping her lushly wavering buttocks once again. "You like fucking gangsters?"
Jacqui bore up stoically, though unable to give him a reply for fear of sobbing out her heartfelt agony if she were to so much as open her mouth. She felt numb, and dirty, and abused - all at the same time. She was aware that he was slapping her on the buttocks, but the pain inside of her was so infinitely more acute as to render anything else he might have chosen to do to her unimportant. His long hard cock was sunk in so deep she felt like it was going to keep right on going till it came out her throat. But then, oddly, after seemingly endless minutes, the pain began to slacken a little, and she became increasingly aware of her stinging buttocks, until finally she felt the con-man's hands scoop under her to her breasts again, squeezing and caressing in time to his ever increasing tempo of fucking. She became numb throughout her entire pelvic area, then subtly, every third or fourth stroke or so, there seemed to be a faint flicker of pleasure, a tingling, vibrant thrill that raced to her heart. And with those initial thrills, Jacqui Potter began to respond, her slavishly postured white buttocks slicking back on the impaling presence of Artie's slippery penile flesh.
"Gettin' good to ya, chick?" he teased,; rasping. "You like the way it feels, little girl?" She was perspiring slightly, and her naked legs were beginning to stick to the warm leather of the car seat. But then, with a sickening thrill, she remembered that the leather had once belonged to an animal. She was wedged in it . .. wallowing in it!
"Oh, God, man ... fuck me!" she hissed, baring her even white teeth in a lewd grimace. "Fuck me to death!"
With brutal, cunt-plumbing thrusts, Jason', Trimble's hatchet man began to rifle into her newly initiated vaginal orifice, flexing his rock-hard staff deep within her as he battered and pushed against her delicate cervix. For long, delicious minutes he kept up his frantic pace, knowing that his own release was close at hand, but fighting desperately against it in an effort to prolong the thrill of taking this blonde teenager's virginity. Jacqui writhed and bucked; beneath him like a mad-woman now, loving'' every searing and wicked inch of him deep inside her body. She could feel their combined,; secretions, along with a faint smattering of blood, trickle down the soft ivory columns o her inner thighs. She could feel his prickly pubic hair tickling her tiny unprotected anus, and his hairy, drum-tight balls swinging upwards to slap against her swollen clitoris. She felt as stuffed a one of those long sausages that hung in her father's meat shop.
Artie could see the thin film of perspiration that glistened along the lightly boned ridge of her back as he raised his upper torso, gripped her tightly by the narrow waist, and began to hammer his aching cock home with long, smooth and practiced strokes. Damn, what a luscious little piece of tail she was! So young, so clean, so tight! He dropped his hands to her abdomen, and squeezing, he found the satiny warm flesh resilient as it ridged whitely between his grasping fingers.
"How is it now, sugar?"
God! What heavenly bliss! Jacqui had never, in her remotest dreams, imagined that such delicious sensations could come from fucking a man. Why, she wondered, why have I waited so long? "Oh, man, Artie ... y-you can fuck me any time you want!"
She sensed her womb opening and the mouth of her golden fringed cuntal slit expanding even further to receive the long hard penis fucking up into her now-hungry vagina. Her hands, freed now, reached back between the tapering ivory columns of her thighs to cup and fondle his swaying, prickly-haired balls. Then, in deeply thrilling excitement that rippled in overwhelming waves through her nakedly kneeling body, she knew she was there!
"Ohhh Gawwwd ...,I-I'mmmmmm cummmmmming! Fuck me, Artie! FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME!!! ...AAAaaaaa uuuuugggghhhh! ! ! !"
No need to hold back now! Artie reasoned as he slammed his lust-bloated rod of flesh deep into her quivering belly. She's cumming like a fountain! He felt his white-hot load of semen amassing in his balls as he continued to grind upward between the now churning cheeks of her buttocks. He was ready with his own climax, and with harshly kneading hands, he cupped the rounded firmness of her extreme upper thighs, pounding his spewing cock all the way to the hilt in her newly-opened cunt!
In her ecstasy, Jacqui felt a new sweet pain growing warmly in her insides as the head of Artie's deeply sunken cock suddenly flared into a hugeness that threatened to mangle her inner organs. Then, thickly, it began to spurt! She could feel the maddeningly hot liquid shooting into her in long hard squirts, again and again, until she began to feel as if someone had turned on a garden hose inside her. The very pores of her cuntal walls opened to it, oozing forth their own enraptured response, spilling her own heated orgasmic secretions into the already cum-flooded cavern of her torn pussy.
It was fantastic! No words could describe it! She was about to go out of her mind with erotic enchantment! Dear God, let it go on forever ... !
She continued with both hands to caress and milk his spending balls, her body spasming helplessly as his massive cock continued to squirt out its completion. Thick viscid jets of male cum streamed from its tip in great blissful gushes, overflowing her tightly-locked cunt lips at the base of it, until it offered one final convulsive spurt, the last few drops drained from it, and both of them tingled in the glow of satiation. Then, gradually, it softened a little and began to slip from her body, releasing still more of its obscene nectar to trickle down her legs and onto the leather car seat.
Artie Jordan, exhausted, fell back on his haunches. "T-That was beautiful, kid!" he stammered breathlessly.
Jacqui reached down between her legs to feel the blood-and-sperm-slickened triangle of her pubic mound. "oh, gicky-poo!" she winced. "Let me have your handkerchief so I can sop up this mess!"
Artie, still panting heavily, handed her his hanky. "That was really beautiful!" he repeated. "It was ugly!" she returned curtly, swabbing the slippery juices between her thighs. "Ugly, and dirty, and sordid ... " Then, looking back at him over her shoulder, her green eyes twinkling mischievously and her nose crinkling,
the fifteen year old blonde broke into an infectious grin...... And I loved every fucking minute of it!"