Chapter 1
The young girl-fifteen, clear-faced, and with a surprisingly mature body for one her age-was dressed in skin-tight white shorts and was without a bra underneath her rosy red blouse. She lay crosswise on the bed, and stared up at the older girl who was standing before a mirror and running a comb through her long blonde hair.
"But aren't you even excited?" Maryjane asked, shivering in vicarious excitement. "I mean ... I would be! After all, your wedding is only two days away, and then you and Rick go to that groovy castle place in Ireland for your honeymoon. Why, you just have to be excited!"
"Of course I am, you silly thing." Rhonda's voice was patient with her cousin. "I'm happy and excited but I am also CALM." That last statement was a total lie but Maryjane couldn't know that. The younger girl couldn't see the turmoil that Rhonda felt, the oppressive feeling of apprehension that almost turned into fear.
"It must be wonderful to be truly in love and to be old enough to get married ... and to wake up in bed next to your husband." Maryjane giggled and put a hand up to hide her face. "I mean my husband. If I had a husband."
"Maryjane?" Rhonda's voice had just a bit of shock in it as she gazed in mock astonishment at the younger girl and began weaving a larged thick braid into her hair.
Maryjane had her elbows planted on the bed and leaned with her face cupped in her hands. The girl had obviously decided to throw all caution to the wind judging by her next remark. "Well, isn't a bed better than a back seat?"
"Maryjane! What in the world are you talking about?" Rhonda sputtered and threw the comb down spinning around to face the girl.
"Sex! What in the world else?"
Maryjane had the courage to go on now and was not to be denied. She sat up abruptly and curled her bare legs beneath her, sitting cross-legged like a buddha on the bed. "If I tell you something will you promise to keep it a secret?"
"I don't want to hear it at all," Rhonda said emphatically. She was almost sure of the direction of the conversation and this was certainly nothing to discuss with a girl of fifteen. She hadn't even talked to her mother about it, even though the older woman had hinted broadly that they must have a conversation before the wedding day.
Maryjane glanced over toward the closed door of the bedroom as if she suspected that someone were lurking outside at the keyhole. Then she lowered her voice and said, "I know you wouldn't tell on me." She grinned with her secret and then shared it. "I'm not a virgin, you know."
The news momentarily knocked Rhonda off her feet, although deep down in her heart of hearts, the information did not come as a surprise. Maryjane showed all the signs of becoming a swinger, and she already had the build of a twenty-two year old bathing suit beauty.
The girl went on almost proudly, "I haven't been one for almost a year. It was Bruce Coventry. After the last football game last Autumn ... in October ... after he was appointed head cheerleader. We shared a bottle of beer and it made me very dizzy. And then ... he began ... feeling me. And, ah ... asked me to feel him. Then he got into the backseat of his car and ... ah...."
"I don't want to hear another word." Rhonda's voice brooked no disobediance. "Not another word!" She shook her head in dismay and said, "I'm shocked at you, Maryjane, truly shocked. You are either not telling the truth or you just blithely gave away your virginity. Just like that," she snapped her fingers. "Just like you were giving away an old dress or something. I would think you would have more respect for yourself."
Maryjane merely made a shrug and her breasts jiggled with the movement. She answered in a somewhat defiant manner, "It was fun. It felt good. And I've let him do it five other times too. We're going steady. We love each other and everyone else in school does it. Why not?"
"Why not? Well, I'll tell you why not. What does a girl of your age know about love? What if your parents found out about it? What if the police discovered you and Bruce in the back seat when you were ... you were? What if you get pregnant as a result of it?"
Maryjane merely snorted. "Oh, poo! I won't get pregnant ... I'm not that dumb. Why, I wouldn't have let him do it the first time if he hadn't been wearing a rubber."
Rhonda held up her hands in a commanding manner. "I said before that I do not want to hear anymore. I mean it!"
The younger girl shrugged again. "All right. All right." She inspected Rhonda critically, then cocked her head to one side and bit her lower lip in indecision. "You're a cool chick ... real cool. But I wouldn't be surprised if you are still a virgin, even though Rick looks to me like he's the impatient kind. He's probably snorting and pawing the stable floor." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Rhonda marched to the door and angrily flung it open. "Out!" she commanded.
Maryjane petulently got up from the bed and slipped on her loafers onto her feet. With a knowing smirk she strode casually across the floor and then stopped just inside the archway of the door. "I wouldn't have believed it-a girl as beautiful, as well built as you are ... arid a girl who has been engaged for over a year-still a virgin. Wow!"
"Yes, damnit. I am still a virgin ... and I am proud of it. Nit wit-not that it is any of your business!"
Maryjane held out her hands beseechingly, "Okay ... okay. There's no reason to get angry. I was merely curious. I have never seen a twenty-year-old virgin before." She was grinning impudently as Rhonda slammed the door in her face.
What an impertinent little snip, Rhonda thought; My God, what in the world are these school kids coming to? She knew that Maryjane wasn't putting her on; the girl was telling the truth about Bruce. A moment later, Rhonda's inherent common sense took over and she realized that only through a very strong will power had she kept her own virginity. Maryjane had been correct about Rick ... he was the impatient type ... but, he was also extremely understanding. He had proven that over and over again, time after time.
Rhonda and Rick had gone steady for practically two years before their engagement ... and now they had been engaged for almost a year....While they were going steady, they had made out a little-some really passionate kissing had come about, but when Rick had begun fumbling for her breasts, she had managed somehow to stop him each time. Since their engagement had been announced and she received her ring, there had been some petting-at least on his part. She had permitted him the possession of her breasts and, three or four times, he had been allowed to touch that sacred area which would be completely his only after the marriage ceremony. Rhonda had been forced to put a stop to his eager trips down there because of an underlying fear that she, herself, would lose all control. It did feel wonderful ... that fact she was at last able to admit. Unfortunately, after these episodes, she would lie awake all night feeling the restless pounding of her heart echoed deep within her womb. One night-for the first and last time-the throbbing had become so painfully intense that she had touched herself there with one finger. She moved it cautiously and her lonely vagina screamed out in ecstasy. A second finger joined the first and the two of them rubbed gently back and forth on the now damp slit. The motion had become less tender and more rapid! She had continued this for almost fifteen minutes, but aside from her vagina becoming too tender to touch, nothing else happened. She hadn't even come close to that elusive realm of physical release talked about in certain books. She tossed and turned all night-sleeping fitfully. The next morning she awakened to a deep sense of shame-a feeling that still came back with the full force of its guilty intensity each time she thought about it.
But all of that is totally finished and gone now, she thought, as she continued braiding her hair. A minute or two later she slipped on a blue cardigan sweater to match her softly plaided blue miniskirt, and started down the stairs. Maryjane was bright-eyed and totally undaunted by the earlier encounter. She met Rhonda at the landing. "Like Wow! You're really getting some groovy stuff ... there must be a couple of tons of crap in there," she said.
She laughed in spite of herself and said, "Maryjane you are totally and utterly hopeless!"
"Let's go, come on and see the stuff that arrived this morning." Maryjane eagerly led the way to the living room where the already opened wedding presents were piled atop each table as though they were luxury items on display in some kind of a store. Maryjane picked up one at random and said, "Try this one-from the Ashleys."
It was just not possible to keep a straight face with the girl; she was as excited as a child would be under a Christmas tree. Rhonda carefully unwrapped the gift, taking care not to ruin the white satin ribbon, and saving the paper.
"Holy Toledo! An Osterizer ... for cooking in as well as mixing! That's really neat!" Maryjane's excitement was contagious. She grinned and affectionately put her arms around her cousin. "Come on," Rhonda said, "You can help me open them....But save the ribbon and the paper ... and the boxes. And please don't get the cards mixed up. Better write down what the gift is on each of the cards so that I can refer to it when I write the thank-you letters later on."
The two girls had been working almost one hour opening and marking down the gilded loot when the telephone rang and Rhonda answered it.
Rhonda, thinking it was Rick, was excited, and had grabbed it on the second ring.
"Rhonda ... this is Chantal Maroni. Your gown's ready for the last fitting. When can you come over and try it on?"
"I'll come immediately if that is convenient for you."
"Come right ahead, honey. I think you are going to just love it!"
"Oh, I'm sure I will," Rhonda said excitedly; then, as the doorbell rang, she shouted over her shoulder, "Maryjane, will you answer that?"
"Be sure and bring the proper undergarments that you will be wearing with it at the wedding," Chantal added. "We want the gown to fit just perfectly."
"I'll be there in about five minutes." Rhonda said and hung up. She looked towards the door where the deliveryman from Howard's Department Store and Maryjane were both carrying in additional presents. Four different trips were made between the truck and the front door. Rhonda signed all of the delivery slips while Maryjane shook and rattled and counted the packages.
"Golly, twenty-one more gifts ... and this one weighs about a ton," Maryjane's excited voice reported. "Should we open them now?"
"I can't right now. Mrs. Maroni wants to do the final fitting." Rhonda saw the disappointment on the girl's face and suggested, "Hey, why don't you come along with me?"
"Oh ... I'd love to but Bruce and I are going swimming. He's coming here to pick me up in about fifteen minutes or so. How long will you be? Will you get back here before he comes?"
"I doubt it. The fitting probably will take at least an hour."
Maryjane looked down at the rug and played with the fringe with her toe. "I don't imagine that you will change your mind about the hayride this evening?" She asked hopefully. "Bruce and I wouldn't bother anyone. Honest ... I promise!"
"I'm sorry, honey. No. There will be liquor and, besides, everyone there will be in their twenties ... just a bunch of old fogies to you!"
"All right ... if you don't want us there...."
"Look," Rhonda said in an attempt to make the girl feel better, "I'll save some packages for you to open tomorrow. Okay?"
"Yes ... I suppose so." There was a listless quality about her answer.
Rhonda picked up her purse. "I've got to go now. Be sure and lock up the house before you leave."
Five minutes later Rhonda was in a dressing room at Maroni's Dress Shoppe. She quickly slipped on the blue lacy garter belt and her hose. "Now, dear, lift your hands straight up," Mrs. Maroni ordered. "No fast moves because the gown is merely tacked and we don't want it falling apart, do we?" Rhonda felt the luxurious garment slide down over her arms and head. She looked at herself in the mirror. The gown clung to her like a second skin. Mrs. Maroni zipped up the long zipper in the back and then stepped back to admire her work. "Beautiful! Just beautiful!" Mrs. Maroni's face grinned past Rhonda's shoulder in the mirror. "Do you like it?" she said, fitting the veil over Rhonda's blonde hair.
"Oh, yes!" the girl answered sincerely. "It's just ... it's just...." and she closed her eyes, unable to think of the appropriate phrase. It is so strikingly beautiful she thought; Rick will love me in it!
The older woman smiled in understanding. "Well, that's all then. We'll sew it up this afternoon and I'll deliver it on Sunday at around one o'clock."
"You mean that's all? There's nothing more for me to do?"
"Nothing," she said airily. "All you have to do is step into it and wear it down the aisle looking beautiful on Sunday at three o'clock!"
Mrs. Maroni helped Rhonda to get out of the gown, and then she put on her blue sweater and skirt again. She glanced at her watch and was surprised to see that she had been there for only ten minutes. "Maybe Maryjane will get to open some packages today," she thought to herself.
It was a terrifically nice day, Rhonda noted, as she walked the two blocks back to her house. She felt just a little like skipping and she did so! For just a second or two until she remembered her lady-like demeanor. She prayed that the clear warm weather would hold until Sunday at least. She also hoped that it would be nice weather in Ireland. She hoped so many things, but mainly she hoped that she and Rick would be happy together. She was humming a tune when she turned the corner and saw Bruce's car in the driveway. Her step hesitated and she suddenly remembered Maryjane's candid confession about being intimate with the cheerleader. The boy was only sixteen, he might even be fifteen-not yet handsome, but fairly good-looking, with a pleasant personality. He had a certain poise; Maryjane had undoubtedly helped to bring part of that about. During the spring semester he played shortstop on the school baseball team-he was too small of stature and build for the football team-and had earned his letter. Maryjane and he made a rather attractive couple of teenagers, Rhonda thought. Still however, they were just teenagers and should not have been physically intimate.
Knowing what she did, Rhonda was sure that she would not be able to hide her mixed emotions if she faced the boy, so she walked around the side of the house and came quietly in the back way. She had planned to stay in the kitchen until he and Maryjane left to go swimming. Obviously, they would have to be leaving in a moment or two.
The house was quiet-too quiet, she thought. Surely, the young couple had left. For a moment, Rhonda thought about calling Maryjane's name, then decided she would just walk in unannounced. After all, it was her home! She left the kitchen and went through the alcove next to the living room. She was about to slide the doors open when she heard what sounded like low cry of pain. Puzzled, she peered through the crack and then froze in shock and amazement. There, stretched out full length on the couch, were Bruce and Maryjane. The girl's white gym shorts had been unzipped and-together with her white nylon panties-were down about her knees. Her blouse was open all the way, and Bruce's mouth was glued to her right breast. Even as Rhonda watched, Maryjane groaned again-and Rhonda realized that it was not a cry of pain but one of delight. The boy's middle finger was sawing away in maniacal fury at the junction of Maryjane's widespread legs. Her young pelvis was moving up and down in an effort to capture and hold on to the elusive digit. From her viewpoint, Rhonda could even see the enlarged pink clitoris almost as large as an infant's penis.
Rhonda knew she should go away-go back to the kitchen-and perhaps slam a door as if she had just entered. Then she could call out Maryjane's name; that would give the boy and girl a chance to get into their clothes. But then she knew that she wouldn't be able to face either one of them after what she was viewing now. Her attention was pulled quickly back to the front room as Maryjane arched her back up off the sofa and began to pant hoarsely. "I'm cumming, Brucie," she cried once, then fell back, her face twisted in a lewd expression of delight and her legs beating against the leather couch.
After her movements had slowed down, Bruce took his finger away and lifted his mouth from her breast. He slid one knee over her thigh, as he began fumbling with his zipper. "Put it in for me, huh?" he requested.
"No! I told you no." Maryjane said. In spite of the fact that her eyes were closed in satiation, there was no mistaking her adament tone of voice. "Please!" It was a frantic plea from the boy. Maryjane sighed in exasperation and opened her eyes. "I told you before you started messing around. It's the dangerous time of the month for me, and even if it wasn't, you'd still have to have protection. You know that!"
"Oh, God, I'm dying," the boy wailed. Maryjane sat up. She had a very patient expression on her face. "Lie on your back," she ordered, and turned on her side to give him more room.
Bruce did as he was told. She suddenly realized that Maryjane knew exactly what to do ... had probably done this many times before. Even as she watched, Maryjane expertly unfastened the boy's belt, undid the waistband hook, and then unzipped his trousers. His jockey shorts were bulging. Maryjane's hand slipped in the opening and withdrew the penis.
She was frozen; she couldn't have moved now even if the house had been hit by an earthquake. She had never seen anything like this before, although she knew it must happen all the time between some boys and girls. It had almost happened with her and Rick. That didn't change the situation; it was still lewd, dangerous and wicked. Maryjane's hand encircled the virile instrument at a point just below the head of the organ. She began moving her hand up and down, up and down. Bruce lay back with a blissful look on his face, his eyelids fluttering, and his breath coming rapidly.
"Let me know," Maryjane said.
"Yeh ... yeh...." it was hoarse grunt.
Less than thirty seconds later, Bruce raised his buttocks off the couch and his face twisted in a grimace, "Ahhh ... ahhh," was all he said, but the communication was obviously effective for Maryjane quickly used her other hand to pull up the jockey shorts just as the first white spurts of the boy's sperm came flooding through the sub-teranean channels of his penis. Maryjane continued to stroke him-more gently now-and on her face was an unfathomable look that might have been either pleasure or satisfaction. Finally her hand motions stopped. She grinned down at the boy. "Feel better now honey?" Maryjane asked softly.
"Ummm. God, yes," Bruce sighed. "It's not as good as the real thing-like fucking inside of you ... but it's better than nothing."
Maryjane laughed aloud, "And better than doing it yourself?"
"Hey now. I don't...."
"You do," and she hit him playfully, "doesn't everyone?"
After a moment Maryjane brought her hand out from beneath his jockey shorts. Rhonda could see the hand was all wet as it glistened in the reflected light. Maryjane calmly wiped her hand on the tail of Bruce's teeshirt. Bruce turned his head toward her; Maryjane's breast was only two inches away from his mouth. He parted his lips, his tongue came out and licked the erect brown nipple.
With a look of rapture on her face, Maryjane put her hand behind his head and pulled him closer to her. His mouth opened all the way as he seemingly ate off all of the entire breast and attempted to devour it. "Ummm ... that's wonderful!" Then, abruptly, she pulled away from him and her whole demeanor changed. "That's enough," she said in mock sternness. "We'd better get going. Rhonda will be back in a few minutes. Come on ... get up, lazv." She prodded him with her knee.
Reluctantly, Bruce stood up and faced the alcove door behind which Rhonda was hiding. His levis were down around his knees, and he stood straddle-legged to keep them from falling any further down. In an attempt to straighten out his sopping wet jockey shorts, he was forced to lower them to about mid-thigh. Rhonda saw his cum-covered penis, flaccid now and only about two and a half inches long. He used the lower part of his tee shirt to dry it, and the vigorous drying motions started the organ swelling and elongating again. Maryjane unconcernedly got off the couch, and Rhonda was able to see sparse young triangle of pubic hair before the white nylon panties and tight white gym shorts hid it from sight. Casually, the girl buttoned up her blouse, all the while smiling affectionately at the boy. A moment later, arm in arm and giggling, they left; this was followed by the sound of Bruce's car starting up.
Rhonda suddenly realized that she was debilitated-so weak that her legs were almost unable to support her weight. She felt ashamed at having watched like a peeping torn, but, more than that, she could feel a sense of forbidden excitement that raged like wild fire in her own loins and brought a hot fevered dampness between her thighs. For just a moment, when the boy and girl had been petting, it seemed almost as if she herself were being fondled. Dazedly, she slid the door opened and walked to the couch. She reached out one trembling hand and touched the leather. No, it hadn't been a dream. The leather was still warm from the heat of their bodies and, in one place where Maryjane had lain with her bare buttocks pressed against the sofa. She could feel dampness where the girl's love juices had flowed down between the legs to the couch itself.
She sat down and pondered what she had seen. The performance of the two youngsters was wrong. Not only wrong, but sinful and dangerous. Yet, on the other hand, it had seemed such a natural thing and so very enjoyable! She had no doubt that the real act of sexual intercourse between Bruce and Maryjane would be every bit as natural and accepted in just as calm a way. And her thoughts moved on to her relationship with Rick. When she permitted Rick to fondle her, she had known excitement ... at least for a few happy, beautiful moments. Always, however, she had become frightened as she felt her senses drifting away leaving her body helpless to any onslaught. And so, she had tightened up each time. As for touching Rick's penis ... no matter how much Rick had wanted her to caress him, she couldn't bring herself to touch it. His male organ frightened her. Even though she had never seen it, she knew it was much, much larger than Bruce's.
"Everything will be better after the wedding ceremony is over," she thought aloud as Rhonda picked up one of the wedding presents. She then felt immediate depression because she was reasonably sure that it wouldn't be that much better. She forced herself to grin and began ripping the paper off the package. "Every bride has pre-wedding jitters ... that's all that I am having ... isn't it?" And she laughed without humor at the realization that she was talking to herself....
More than once in the next hour her eyes fastened on the couch and she found herself wondering what it would be like if she and Rick....
A few fours later when Rick came to pick her up for the traditional last date before marriage, the combination of her perturbation and forbidden excitement still racked her body. She met Rick at the door, threw her arms around his waist, and kissed him warmly. As she pressed her body in close to him, she could sense his surprise at her uninhibited welcome. Her mouth opened to receive his tongue and her own tongue quivered and played effusively with his.
Rick, delighted with the bold new greeting, drew back and asked, "What gives here?"
"I can kiss my fiance who will soon be my husband, can't I?" she said, grinning in what she hoped was a wicked manner.
"Anytime, baby. Anytime!" They clenched again and then drew quickly apart as Rhonda's mother banged a door at the top of the stairs and came down.
"Good evening, Richard," she said, primly, not smiling.
"Hello, Mrs. Corwin. How are you this evening?"
"Not very well, thank you. I have a headache."
Silence settled over the group then which Rhonda finally broke by taking Rick's arm and saying, "Don't wait up, Mother. It'll probably be after midnight before we get back from the hayride."
Mrs. Corwin stared at Rhonda and then nodded. "Have a nice time," she said and it was obvious that the statement was made perfunctorily.
Rick opened the front door for Rhonda and led the way to his side of the convertible. She slid in and showed more thigh than was usual for her. She didn't even bother to pull down her skirt when Rick got in behind the wheel. His mind was on something else it seemed. "Brrrr," he said, shivering as though he were very cold. "It was freezing in there tonight."
Rhonda quickly covered his hand with hers and said, "Mother means well."
"Certainly," he answered as he started the car and backed out of the driveway. "Just like last week when I told her to cheer up; that she wasn't losing a daughter but gaining a son. She looked at me like I was something that had crawled out of the nearest rock and said, "I am losing a daughter.'"
"Everything will be all right," Rhonda said, moving over until her hip was touching his.
Rick looked down at her legs and breasts, grinned, and said, "Everything is perfect already!"
She flushed and replied, "Thank you, sir Knight," and felt the happiness well up in her.
Rick drove quickly and surely as he drove with one hand and put the other hand around her shoulders. His tape machine was playing something soft and just made for people in love. Neither of them spoke as they drove out of town and headed toward the farm where the hayride was to originate. They were the last couple to arrive. Other couples were already riding up in the wagon and were shouting impatiently for the evening's fun to begin. Several bottles of hard liquor were in evidence being passed around and drunk straight. Rhonda had a mouthful of Scotch straight-and then coughed as it burned its way down her throat to her empty stomach.
Someone began singing as the two horses pulled the wagon across the rambling hills of the countryside. As darkness arrived, the various couples found themselves snuggling closely down into the hay with its seamy sweet odor. One could hear muffled laughter and giggling from the girls and an occasional roar of laughter from the boys. Rhonda knew all of the other couples on the ride as they had all gone through most of their schooling together. They were a nice bunch of kids, Rhonda thought as she realized that most of their friendships went back as far as kindergarten.
Rick grabbed her and worked her down deeper into the hay until she was almost buried in it and she found herself lying full-length pressed against him. She was immediately invaded by the image of the younger couple in her living room that afternoon. She forced it out of her mind and tried to keep it out by asking, "Happy?"
"Oh, yes! And you?...."
In order to answer, Rhonda kissed him and found in so doing that her mouth was pressed against his which was opened partially ... without even meaning it to happen, she felt her tongue swim into his mouth. He savagely returned the kiss and the excitement that she had felt earlier began to invade her being once again. Now Rick, let his hands cautiously touch her breasts. Even through her many layers of sweater and short and brassiere, Rhonda could feel the electric charge between them.
Suddenly from across the wagon Rhonda heard Betty Miller, the pert little blonde who was to serve as their bridesmaid on Sunday, say very loudly, "Harvey Evans, you stop that and you behave yourself. Do you understand me?" Rhonda felt the spell break for a moment and everybody laughed long and loud after this remark. Rick laughed as loud as anyone else there. She looked up and noticed that the old driver was laughing so hard he doubled up.
But only a moment later, Rick began kissing her again and she felt their tongues sparring as his hands became more and more sure of themselves when she did not protest his moves. Since they were lying face to face, Rhonda became also aware of the hard bulge beneath his trousers which confirmed to her his desire. She yearned to reach down there and caress him the way that Maryjane had caressed Bruce. She was preparing herself to make this daring move when his hands moved beneath her sweater and his knee moved between her thighs, separating them.
Rhonda made no effort to halt his fumbling efforts to unfasten her bra hook as she trusted herself and him too. His movements were concealed by the night darkness and the covering straw and they were totally successful. One delicious moment later, his bare hand was on her naked breast; his fingers played over the nipple and he lovingly squeezed the firm, full mound of flesh. Never before had it felt so delightful to her. His tongue had become imperative, his movements almost frantic. His hips buffeted against her pelvis. She found herself panting ... wanting him stupidly to stop and yet hoping that he would go on forever. She wanted him to kiss and bite her breasts the way that Bruce had with Maryjane. She was only vaguely aware of the clopping of the horses' hoofs and the murmuring sound of the other couples who had also buried themselves into the anonymity of the hay. No doubt everyone was necking furiously, she thought. Suddenly the breath went right out of her body. With one unhesitating smooth motion, Rick's hand slid up her thigh, dug itself under the thin elastic leg band of her panties, and touched the hot, moist lips of her now fevered vagina. Oh God! She had been dying for him to do this ... and now she didn't want him to. Immediately she dropped her arm and tried to pull his hand away. She also attempted to remove her mouth from his. She was helpless, so very weak. She was almost beside herself as he began massaging the hot throbbing passage between her legs. Once, his thumb and forefinger tweaked the sensuously tingling clitoris and a shower of ecstasy sparked through her groin. He began using his other hand to force her own hand down toward the awesome bulge in his pants. She could feel reason leaving her; it was insane. "No ... no!" she cried aloud and struggled upright. No one noticed her.
Rhonda saw him looking at her, wild-eyed and trembling. Finally he seemed to gain control of himself and nodded that it was safe to come back into his arms. She did so, trembling like a person afflicted with a disease, and kissed him gently on the lips. The bulge in his trousers felt even larger now, and she could feel it beating like a second heart against her bare thigh.
She had just about decided to do something about relieving him when the driver shouted to someone, and Rhonda heard Betty Miller's voice saying, "Hey everybody, we're here!" The wagon made a half circle and stopped at the bank of a river. A large bonfire was scattering sparks into the night. The smell of broiling hamburgers came into the wind. A keg or two of beer was tapped and one of the boys began playing the guitar. Dinner was followed by a round of singing and the bonfire slowly died down. One by one the couples began drifting into the darkness of the perimeter.
Rhonda felt Rick's hand pulling her to her feet and they walked arm in arm down the dark beach. They had almost reached the end of the sand bar when he suddenly whispered, "Shhh. There's someone out there." Rhonda could hear the muffled groans and something that sounded suspiciously like the sound of body slapping against body. "What is it?" she whispered, half-frightened, not knowing what lay out there in the darkness.
She saw Rick grin ear to ear and he put his mouth against her ear. "I think it's Betty Miller and Harvey Evans ... Come on, let's see."
Rhonda held back and said, "That wouldn't be nice ... We shouldn't."
"Come on," Rick insisted, and took her hand. "Be quiet!"
They moved silently across the beach heading toward the little gully that separated the sand bar from the bank. Rick pulled her low to the ground as they edged along. Then they peered over the bank.
Rhonda made an audible gasp that was quickly cut off by Rick's hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide in amazement. There, down below them, only about ten feet away, where two nude bodies. Betty Miller's white naked thighs were spread wide and jerking violently in the air as Harvey Evans lay heavily between them. She saw Harvey's buttocks raise, revealing a huge white rod of glistening flesh in the moonlight; the rod was sunk deep between Betty's open thighs! Harvey thrust it forward and the girl's naked vagina rose to meet it in midair. She squealed out in delight. Faster, faster the two bodies moved against each other. Betty's breath was coming in loud, short, puppy-dog-like pants and her movements were frantic. "Fuck me harder, harder ... oh, yes...." Betty groaned then, with her face contorted in lascivious lust and passion, and cried out, "I'm cumming, Harvey. Ah? Ahhhh ... aieeeeeee. I'm cumming. Fuck harder!" She made one maddened thrust upward and then fell back on the sand, her body spasming uncontrollably, her legs pounding the ground. A moment later, Harvey rammed forward and groaned out his own release, and the couple lay still; the only sound was their hoarse exhausted breathing, and the slap-slap-slap of water as the little silver river waves rolled peacefully up on the sandbar.
Rhonda was only vaguely aware of Rick leading her away into the darkness. Well, now she'd seen it. She knew the word for it; Betty had been 'fucked', and Betty had used the word 'cum' as her body went independently insane with lust ... just as Maryjane had screamed out she was 'cumming'. And Betty had enjoyed it, had obviously been deliriously happy during it ... and so had Maryjane.
The sight had almost maddened her with a strange unwanted desire. She could feel the hot dampness now of her own awakening loins. Rick was pulling her firmly widely away from the bank toward the darker shadows by the bluff. Once, when she opened her mouth to say something, he held up his hand and silenced her. After they had gone about fifty yards, he pulled her body around toward him as he stopped. They kissed. Rhonda wasn't attempting to tease him; she had a fire in her loins that cried out for extinguishment. She didn't know how to put out the fire or how it could be put out; that would be Rick's job. All she knew was that she was instinctively grinding her pelvis against his forbidden area with the bulge in his trousers. Instinct told her that when these two junctions were finally joined, the fire would blaze up in an all-devouring conflagration, explode, and then slowly die like a beautiful sunset.
Standing on tiptoe, abdomen wantonly pressed against him, Rhonda suddenly felt Rick's sure hands sweep up under the short skirt and cup her thin panty-covered buttocks in his palms. A second later, his thumbs hooked over the elastic waistband and with one delicious motion, her panties were pulled down over her hips. Rick fumbled with his zipper and then the long hard rod which had been held captive for so long was released. It pressed hotly against her naked belly, throbbing hungrily with each beat of his heart. Standing pelvis to pelvis, she groaned and felt his knees spread outward a bit to lower himself. Then the fevered cock was between her thighs.
"Rick," she moaned. "Please ... no. We can't!" That was what her lips said but her body was screaming, 'Oh, yes ... now, right now, my darling. What difference does a day or two make now.' And so, without conscious volition, she flexed and unflexed her thigh muscles against his throbbing penis knowing by his moan of pleasure that she was instinctively doing the right thing.
Rick sawed his cock between her thighs; she could feel the hardness of it moving back and forth inside its sheath of hot thin skin.
His finger had begun to seek out the now moistened entrance to her womb and after a second he found it. He turned his hand palm up to cup the whole of her naked crotch in his hand and, at the same time, force her thighs apart. She hated to lose that wonderful contact between her upper legs and his penis, but she permitted him to spread her anyway. His fingers were moving likes those of a sensuous harp player across her vaginal lips. She wanted to cry out in delight. Never before had she felt anything so soul consuming. Her neck arched and she moved her face from side to side, her lips contorted and panting out over and over again, "No ... no ... no," and obviously-from her wanton actions-meaning, "Yes ... yes ... yes."
Rick was grinding his teeth and grunting softly as he moved his penis up and down the length of her thighs. She could feel some moisture there; she wondered if he had 'cum'. He still was hard, still was moving ... so obviously, she thought, he hadn't reached his climax. There was a moisture-a hot, slippery moisture-in her own vaginal split; the artesian springs of passion coming to life under his quivering rod.
"Rhonda, please! I want you! Let me!" He continued to buffet her thighs with his prick.
I can't let you, she thought, incapable of speaking through her own longing. I can't stop you ... I won't stop you if you really try. His huge rod now had slipped up to the top of her thighs and its head quivered and pressed against her hungrily throbbing cunt lips. She cried silently, "Oh, how I want you to make love to me. Do it now!"; nothing escaped her lips though except wild hoarse pantings of desire. For the first time in her life she felt as if something good was about to happen to her down there between her legs. Her heart rejoiced. There was no fear this time as there had been in the past. No sudden withdrawal of her senses. If anything, her senses stayed right there and intensified. It was beautiful. It was wonderful. She wanted to cry out to him, "Take me ... take me now, darling." When her fiance began pushing her gently down into the sand, she went willingly. Panting, she lay on her back, legs slightly spread, looking up unseeing at the starry sky and watching as Rick unfastened his trousers and dropped them. Then he was kneeling between her thighs, the heat of his bare hips and buttocks against her abdomen and legs.
"Be gentle," she moaned, as she felt the huge head of his prick pressing at the lips of her unprotected vagina. She lay there, the heat of the moment on her-wanting it beyond all other things, and ecstatically happy that the fright had finally left her.
Rick's tongue sought possession of her mouth, his weight descended upon her lower belly, and the first gentle probe of his cock slid lengthwise across her vaginal lips. She gave herself to the sensation; she could feel all reason leaving her body-replaced only by pure feeling. Rick lifted his buttocks back a little in preparation for this first entry. The throbbing head of it touched her vaginal lips, pushed forward and separated the soft yielding pubic hair, and paused there, beating, beating, beating. Now he withdrew the head, now he replaced it and this time pressed just a trifle deeper. Oh God, she thought, it is so beautiful! She could feel her vaginal lubricant oozing around the head of his cock. Now she wanted it deeper. Instinctively, she had reached down there to caress his balls when-with a terrifying suddenness-the breathless moment was shattered by the loud shrill tweet of a police whistle blown only a few yards away. And the sound of it caused Rhonda's nerves to suddenly scream and react as though a stick of dynamite had exploded beneath her. Simultaneous with the whistle, which was the signal from the wagon driver that the evening was at an end, there was the sound of a giggle right above them, together with a muttered, "Ooops! Beg pardon." Betty and Harvey were laughing as they backed away after stumbling over them in the darkness. "Didn't mean to break in," Harvey's voice said, followed by Betty's hissed "Shut up, Harvey!"
Rhonda put her hands against Rick's chest and pushed him away. Frantically, she tugged at her skirt, attempting to pull it down and cover her naked loins. The beautiful moment had fled, and the way her nerves were screaming it was probable that it would not return for a long time ... if ever. It was as though she were a child undergoing psychological conditioning: reach out for a pretty object and receive a powerful shock on contact. Or an alcoholic reaching for a drink in an institution-a kind of 'don't touch' conditioning.
Her nerve endings were all jangling like a hundred alarm systems all shorting out at once ... she wanted to scream. Just as devastating was the embarrassment and humiliation that she felt. God, how cheap and vulgar she must have looked there with her legs spread out like a wanton whore. She covered her face and began sobbing quietly.
Rick, however, was not about to give up that easily. When he sought to pull her skirt up again, she kicked her knees beneath him and twisted on her side. "Don't!" she commanded, and he knew that she meant it. "I'm so embarressed."
"God, we can't stop now," he groaned. "It doesn't matter if they saw us."
"It matters to me," and the sobs began coming more rapidly.
Rick rolled over angrily. "Oh, shit!" he said very loudly, and got to his feet, pulling up his trousers.
"I'm sorry," she weeped. "I can't help it."
"Come on," he said, and it was almost a snarl of contempt, "Get up."
Trembling, Rhonda stood and then feeling even more embarrassment, reached down and attempted to raise her panties; she heard them rip as her heel caught in the elastic. Rick had his back to her. Everything seemed to go wrong so suddenly and she couldn't understand it. She had wanted him to make love to her-needed him to do it! He had even begun to make some penetration. And then that damned police whistle together with Harvey's cruel laughter and Betty's knowing eyes. She said quietly, "Rick...."
He refused to answer.
She sniffed. "Rick ... I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, you acted like it," he murmured. "Well ... I am."
"Okay," he said, his voice cold and distant and not giving an inch. "You're sorry. I'm sorry. That doesn't make any difference to the condition I'm in right now-the same god-damned condition I've been in ever since I met you! Don't be surprised if you hear tomorrow morning that I've been arrested for raping somebody on the street."
Rhonda flared. "It's just as bad for me."
"I doubt it."
"What do you mean by that?" she commanded. "Forget it."
"No, I won't forget it. What did you mean?"
He turned slowly and looked down at her. After a long moment, his shoulders slumped, and he sighed in exasperation. "You can turn it off. It's easy. Look at me though. Just look!" He cupped his bulging trousers in one hand and clenched his fist tight around it. "What am I supposed to do with this? Christ! It hurts a man when he gets all set to make love and then nothing happens."
Rhonda couldn't answer as the police whistle sounded again. Someone called their names and that it was time to go.
"Come on," Rick said, roughly grabbing her arm and leading the wav toward the wagon. Rhonda followed him docilely. She was thinking about what he had said-about it hurting a man when nothing happens and he's ready. Maryjane apparently knew the solution to that problem this afternoon with Bruce. And at that moment, Rhonda decided she would "relieve" Rick this way, if it would help him. He would have to make the first move, however; she couldn't bring herself to be that bold.
The ride back on the hay wagon was silent and the atmosphere strained. He made no effort to kiss or hold her. When they got back to the ranch yard, he had assisted her down from the wagon and then opened the car door. Not one single word was spoken during the short journey home. When he pulled into the driveway, he kept the motor running while he escorted her to the door.
Rhonda's emotions were churning; she was torn between embarrassment, shame and anger.
"Goodnight," he said, simply nodding his head, and again making no effort to kiss her.
All right if that's the way you want to be, to heck with you, Rhonda thought. She forced herself to smile, though, and said, "Good night, Rick." She put her key in the lock and entered without looking at him, and closed the door behind her. She stood there, heart pounding, with her back pressed tightly against the door, until she heard the roar of his engine and the screech of his tires as he angrily departed.
"Rhonda, darling, is that you?" Her mother's voice came from the living room. Rhonda sighed. That was all she needed to make the evening complete-an inquisition. "It's me, mother."
"Come in here, please."
Rhonda had no inclination to talk to anyone at the moment; all she wanted to do was go upstairs, take a hot shower, and go to bed with her own thoughts.
"Rhonda? Are you all right?" Her mother's voice was insistent.
"Yes, Mother," Rhonda took off her sweater and put it on the bench in the hallway. She glanced at her hair to make sure it was clean of hay and not too mussed, and checked her clothing for signs of disarray. Then she entered the living room.
Her mother's eyes flickered over her as though she was evaluating a stranger's honesty. After a moment, she blinked and held a tightly wadded handkerchief up to her mouth.
Puzzled and alarmed, Rhonda asked, "Mother? What's happened? What's wrong?"
The women seemed reluctant to speak. Then, with big tears looming up in her eyes, she reached out for Rhonda and said, "Oh, darling. I should have told you before but it was so embarrassing for me." She sighed deeply, wiped her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and sniffed. "I just didn't want to embarrass you, too. But I can't avoid it any longer."
"What is it?"
"Sit down, dear," She motioned to the couch, then sat down beside her daughter. The older woman's face was flushing as she searched for words. "I've never spoken to you about ... about your marriage duties and wedding night. I must do so before you find out for yourself. This is something a mother must pass on to her daughter. It isn't something you will find in those horrible nasty marriage manuals with their filthy pictures and diagrams ... or those Communistic sex education classes they tried to put on in high school. I'm so relieved that my woman's club was instrumental in getting rid of all that smut. After all, this is something that should be taught and discussed in the home."
Rhonda was appalled. This was the last thing she ever expected to hear from her mother. The older woman was undergoing almost a Jekyll Hyde change as she warmed to her subject. Earlier embarrassment had evaporated-being replaced by something akin to hatred and anger.
She said, "I think you know that men and women have different reproductive organs."
Rhonda was amused in spite of herself and realized that she must bite back her smile. She wondered what mother would say if daughter was to tell her that the first time she had ever seen-in living colour and stereophonic sound-a full-grown male's erect "reproductive organ" had been that afternoon on the couch ... that mother was sitting on the exact spot where Maryjane's "reproductive organ" had dampened the leather some hours earlier ... that Rhonda's own "reproductive organ" had been rubbed by Rick's "reproductive organ" only an hour before.
Mother continued her lecture. "May I suggest that you use your ... ah ... reproductive organ as just that. Get pregnant right away, as soon as you can, Then you won't be bothered by Rick. Sex, after all, is enjoyable only to men; it is something we women must bear with fortitude-no matter how distasteful."
Rhonda swallowed, confused. "But, Mother," she protested, "Sex is supposed to be beautiful between a husband and wife."
The older woman closed her eyes and shook her head. "Sex is only beautiful in that it leads to procreation. Remember the Bible: it says, 'Woman submit to your husband." That word 'submit' means just that. Sex is a cross we women have to bear. Nothing is fair or equal about it. For example, on your wedding night, you will give your virginity to Rick. He will take it joyously. And what does that gift cost you? Not joy? No! Pain! Your hymen will be brutally ripped, the pain will be excrutiating ... and then you will begin to hemorrhage. I have even heard stories of women bleeding to death on their marriage bed. Once-you remember?-I broke my leg and the bone popped out of my skin?"
She nodded, remembering that afternoon when she was only five years old; she'd had nightmares for weeks after seeing the blood, the white bone, and hearing the sounds of her mother's screams.
"You remember how I finally passed out from the agony, and when they tried to move me I came to again, and how they had to give me morphine to ease the pain?"
Wide-eyed and wondering, Rhonda said quietly, "Go on."
"Well, the pain that afternoon was nothing compared to the agony I suffered when your father took my virginity ... even though he tried to be gentle. That, of course, was before he became an insensitive alcoholic brute," The older woman's eyes narrowed in recollection. "It was always painful. It hurt every time he insisted on my performing what he called "marital obligations" ... My mother suffered the same way, and her mother, and her mother's mother before her. Your poor Aunt Margaret! It is a fact of life you must learn to accept, and that is why I say to you, 'get pregnant as soon as you can!' "
Rhonda was slowly putting her thoughts into words, but finally her feelings came tumbling out. "But don't most women enjoy making love with their husbands?"
"Whores! And don't disgrace that beautiful word 'love' by using it in that filthy context. 'Making love', indeed! 'Making war' would be more like it, for the woman is always defeated, degraded, and brutally subjected to all types of indignities. Can you imagine ... (No, of course you can't, and pray God that you'll never have to!) ... what it is like to have some foul-breathed, wine-swilling, cigar stinking beast crawl like a spider over your naked body?" She shuddered from the thought of it; and Rhonda-watching her mother's genuine horror-couldn't help thinking about what she had said.
Rhonda was fairly certain that her mother was telling the truth-at least the truth as the older woman saw it. Perhaps there was an inherited physiological trait that had been passed on through the female genes in her mother's family. She had read and heard about such things. Perhaps it was painful! Maybe there was some almost insignificant anatomical or neurological difference in the female line of her family. And, abruptly, as the horrifying thought came to her, Rhonda clutched the arm of the couch: Could the trait have been passed on to her? Would she know agony ... instead of passionate enjoyment? Would she have known excruciating pain if Rick had continuted his penetration?
Her mind was a malestrom of confusion and fear. There were so many questions she wanted to ask now ... and no one to answer them. Rhonda wanted to ask if her mother had ever enjoyed a male's caresses and fondling, but such a question was embarrassing and at that moment almost senseless.
Then, almost as if reading her mind, her mother said, "I think almost all women enjoy 'sparking' with a man-the touch of his hand upon your arm," and the older woman blushed, "or a gentle kiss. The body responds of course. But the act of sexual intercourse itself is degrading." A moment later she began speaking more rapidly-almost irrationally. "Remember what Saint Augustine wrote, 'Nothing is so much to be shunned as sex relations.' And remember what I said ... Sexual intercourse should be used only for procreating the race. Birth is painful-horribly so-but the act of conception, of mindless copulation, is equally painful. Get pregnant, my darling, as soon as you can."
There was more of the same but Rhonda's mind could not absorb any more. She knew her mother was wrong-terribly wrong. That statement about only "whores enjoying sex" was almost pathetic. Maryjane certainly was no whore-nor was Betty. Then there was Caroline and Jeanne, both of whom had been friends of Rhonda's for almost all of her twenty-two years; both had been married earlier this summer. They certainly weren't "whores", but they had made some ecstatic reports about what their husbands did to them in bed.
Long after she had gone upstairs, Rhonda lay awake-unable to sleep. She gradually became more and more certain that her mother was telling the truth as she saw it. It was painful to mother; it probably was agonizing ... to mother, to mother's mother, and Aunt Margaret. If it was true, and Rhonda had absolutely no reason to doubt it, then most probably the same thing was inherently wrong with her. It would be as agonizing for her as her ancestors once Rick made full penetration.
It was a family curse, her confused mind decided; a curse handed down from one female to another on her mother's side, Down there-deep within her womb-she felt her vaginal muscles tighten. It was as though a lock had been put in place ... a lock without a key ... a lock that would keep spring and summer out for evermore.