Chapter 9
The very day-and almost the very hour-that Priss Sanford's handsome and muscular young husband was getting his rocks with a Chinese Lesbian and the insatiable nympho Sara, his own cute little wife was going after her own trick. And that trick was the one she had casually drawn from the assortment of cocktail straws-Joan's curly-headed husband, Bill Wonger. Priss had made it a point to get a complete description of Bill from Joan. She had to practically pull it out of Joan using steel hooks.
"Well," Joan had grudgingly admitted, "I don't think you will find Bill the sexiest guy on earth. I mean, I'm very happy with him and all. But he had a very strict childhood. His dad was a preacher. He grew up with four older sisters who doted on him to the point that he thinks females are kind of scared and innocent."
"He married you, didn't he?" Priss had retorted.
"Of course. I'm not saying my Bill isn't as interested in sex as the next normal man. But I am saying that he's very shy. We've never had sex in daylight, for example."
That remark had brought a leer from Sara, who was listening to the whole conversation. "Listen, honey, you show me a guy who only wants to do it in the dark, and I'll show you a stud who believes sex is dirty. And the dirtier a fellow thinks screwing is, the better he is at it!"
Sara's rather practical philosophy hadn't convinced Joan, who only sniffed and shrugged the idea aside. "That's not true of Bill," she insisted. "My Bill thinks sex is a wonderful thing between a husband and wife. But he learned respect for womanhood from his sisters."
"Just who the hell were these saints in panties," Sara cracked, sarcastically.
"I told you, damnit-his four sisters."
It had been the revelation of the sisters in Bill's life that had taken seed in Priss' cunning young mind. She didn't know enough about psychology to really figure anything out. But she did have a savvy about what it meant to grow up with three brothers in the house when you were the only female.
Priss and her four big brothers were something she had not even discussed with The Wranglers, even at the height of their promiscuity in high school. It had been something she kept as her own deep, dark little secret. But the truth of the matter was that her brothers had started fucking her when she was thirteen or fourteen, and had kept it up until they had graduated and gone off to college.
She couldn't remember exactly how she and her brothers got started at incest, but she did remember not thinking a damn thing about it. To her it had been nothing more than a lot of fun-once she got her virginity taken away. She recalled that Phil was sixteen, Bob and Pete were fifteen, and Tony was fourteen the first time any of them had sex. Phil had been the leader that one rainy afternoon when both her parents were away for the weekend. She remembered that Phil came to her room and hopped right into a conversation about sex. The next thing Priss knew he had his hand in her panties and was playing with her tight, lightly-fuzzed pussy.
After that, Bob and Pete wanted to feel her hot young cunt, too. And then Tony got in on the act. They did it only in secret, sometimes standing guard while one or two of the others took turns pulling down her panties and playing with her pouting little slit. At first nobody suggested fucking her, but Phil finally talked her into letting him mouth suck her off. She thought it was vaguely dirty, but the pleasure she got from letting her big brother roll his tongue in and out deep inside her pussy more than made up for the guilt feelings.
Pete and Bob got into the habit of eating her-and since they were twins, they did everything together. One would lick and suck her foaming young cunt for five minutes, then let the other one take over. Priss could remember coming four or five times in one hour of such tonguing.
She liked getting her pussy eaten so much that one day when everybody but she and Tony were gone from the house, she seduced her youngest brother into trying his talent between her legs. The little bastard turned out to be the best tongue man in the bunch. He got her so panting hot that when he begged her to let him fuck it, she gave in like a teen-aged whore.
So Tony got her cherry in some forty minutes of frantic and youthful fucking. After that she gladly spread her legs for Pete and Bob and Phil-especially for Phil when she discovered that he had the biggest and longest cock and could screw forever with it. So she knew about brothers with a little sister. And she had more than an educated hunch about big sisters with a little brother.
After giving the matter almost a whole night of thought, Priss decided that the best approach to Bill Wonger would be to look girlish and young-even younger than she was at twenty-three. And she knew that she could do it with a little help from clothes, hair-do style and sunglasses. In fact, the Halloween before she and Greg had decided to go to a costume party, and she had gone as Alice in Wonderland.
She didn't need to look like Alice today, she told herself as she prepared to go meet Bill Wonger on his own ground. But she did want to look very young and very tempting. Before getting into her garb, she made a trip to the local shopping mall and found just the right pair of sunglasses to top off her costume. The glasses were red plastic in the shape of two hearts.
When she got back to the apartment she put on a red-and-white-striped polo dress with a huge snow-white collar. That style was currently popular with the high school girls she had seen around. Then she slipped on a pair of platform sandals and combed her hair down so that it hung straight to her shoulders. In the mirror Priss looked seventeen.
Shortly after one o'clock, about the same time that Sara had been cuddling up to Greg on Lin's sofa, Priss took a taxi to within a block of where Bill Wonger's huge car lot sprawled out under a sea of shiny hoods and gleaming bumpers.
She knew which guy to look for because Joan had taken great delight in describing him to the last hair on his curly head. He's about six feet two, Joan had crooned proudly, and he's got a cute cleft in his chin and dark brown eyes that sometimes look like a spanked poodle's-and he's still wearing his high school graduation ring.
It was all the identification Priss needed, and the second she walked up into the office, she spotted Bill like a bird dog sighting quail. She smiled at him and he came over to her, a flicker of interest in his saddle-brown eyes.
"May I help you, Miss?"
She answered in a little breathy way, using the kind of half-panting, half-lisping voice that sexy little girls latch on to early in life.
"Daddy said I could pick out a car for my graduation," she said, casually, "and you sure look like you've got a bunch of them."
He smiled at her, trying to avoid looking at what appeared to be a couple of gorgeously mature tits on her teen-aged body.
"What did you have in mind," he managed, huskily. "Would you want something in a compact, or maybe something in a good, one-owner convertible?"
"I love convertibles," she panted.
"Well, uh, I tell you what. I've got a few in the back lot. We could stroll around and look at 'em."
"Fine!"
Priss was enjoying the little-miss-innocent act to the hilt. And she knew without looking that as she walked along just a bit in front of him, Bill was staring at her hips, legs and tight buttocks.
They had gone away from the office, back in a cluster of cars that were hidden from any prying eyes. The couple of oldies that he pointed out to her looked like real junk. But she didn't care since the only kind of mechanical power she was interested in was the kind he had hanging between his legs.
"See anything you-uh-like?" he asked.
It was the greatest leading question, and she wasn't about to let it get by without an answer. With a suggestiveness that would have shocked the panties off a real seventeen-year-old girl, Priss glanced over at Bill's face and grinned slyly at him. "Want to take me for a ride in it?" she purred.
He blushed, but kept his business air. After all, how the hell could he be sure what he had on his hands?
"Sure, I guess I could give you a spin, just to try out the motor. You wanta just zip around the block, or... "
"Let's give it a good test. Let's drive out to Half Moon Lake!"
A smile twitched uncertainly at his lips. "Say, that's kind of far, isn't it? I mean, it's a few miles out of town.
"I know, but there are some good stretches of road out there without very many people around. We could really open it up. Do you think it might get hot out there?"
She saw the nervous bob of his Adam's apple, and grinned. In less than ten minutes they had the big yellow convertible out of the lot and were heading for Half Moon Lake. The lake in question had a dubious reputation, to say the least. There was not one person in the city who didn't think about sex when the lake was mentioned, because it had so many fabulous little nooks and crannies and sandy places where lovers could do their thing all night, if they wanted. Once or twice a year the police made their weary rounds of the lake, trying to discourage outright screwing. But most of the time the little suburban retreat was as wide-open as a whorehouse.
"You come out to Half Moon Lake a lot?" Bill asked, when they were breezing along with the convertible top flapping in the wind.
Priss had assumed a position beside him in the front seat of the car that allowed her maximum exposure of her legs. The polo dress really helped since it hid almost nothing if a gal was sitting the way she was. In fact, if Bill had bent his head just a bit down and sideways, he could have seen her panties tight against her heating crotch.
"I come out here sometimes with my boy friends," she lied, casually.
He waited a heartbeat, not knowing whether to pursue the obvious line or not. But finally, he took the plunge.
"I guess boys love to get girls out here, considering the reputation it has."
"Girls like it, too. I don't know a single girl in my class who doesn't brag about being boned out here at least once."
"Boned?" he echoed.
She grinned at him. "Oh, I forgot you don't know the modern slang. Boned means going all the way with a guy. You know."
"Yeah," he breathed, raggedly, "It was the same when I was in high school. That wasn't a thousand years ago, either."
"What did you call it when you... "
"What'd we call getting boned? Well, I think we called it feedin' the kitty."
"You sure that wasn't pussy?"
Bill turned a beet-red and didn't dare look at her. Priss was beginning to think that maybe Joan was right about his being shy, when he turned to her with a slack smile.
"You young gals nowadays sure don't give a goddamn what you say, do you?"
"Does it embarrass you, Mister?"
"Aw, hell no. I mean... well, I guess I grew up being used to different kind of talk from females."
"You had sisters?"
He gave her a quick, hot glance. She thought she saw another deepening shade of pink suffusing his cheeks. "Yeah, I had some sisters- Four of them."
"Younger?"
"Naw, older. Cindy was eighteen, Marge was seventeen, Betty was sixteen, and Lorrie was fifteen, and I was fourteen at the time."
"What time was that?"
"Eh?"
"You said at the time. I was just wondering what you had in mind. I mean, did something happen between you and your sisters when you were fourteen?"
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't say anything."
They had long since turned off the bypass, and now the old convertible was chugging as smoothly as could be expected along a stretch of the lake. The trees and bushes were getting thicker around them, and they could see the water winking in the sunlight every few yards.
Priss knew she was making Bill uncomfortable. She wondered if she was taking the right tack. After all, her mission wasn't to scare the poor dear to death, but to see if she could make him take his cock out of his pants. It wasn't his wicked past she was trying to uncover-it was the possibility of his wicked present.
Going just one step beyond what her conscience might ordinarily have allowed, Priss casually unbuttoned the two buttons of her polo dress. Since she hadn't bothered to wear a bra, her full and heavy tits quivered temptingly at the open cleft. She noticed that Bill was having a hard time keeping his eyes on the road.
"Nervous?" she asked, teasingly.
He shook his head, but she could see the knuckles of his hands turning white on the steering wheel.
"I think you're nervous," she crooned, softly. "I think you're all nervous and jumpy inside, huh? Aren't you, huh? Huh... "
Bill had enough. With a jerk of the wheel he pulled the big car sloppily off onto a side road and drove it to a deeply secluded spot, where a blanket of white sand made a natural little nest-private as a bathroom in a church.
"Wow," she tittered, licking her lips under the heart-shaped glasses, "I was right about you're being... "
"Nervous?" he exploded, huskily. "And why the hell shouldn't I be nervous with you hoisting up your skirt and unbuttoning your dress! What the fuck do you want from me, baby?"
"You said the right verb," she breathed.
"That's what I thought! Jesus-in-Detroit, girl! Do you think you can con me into fucking & somebody your age? Hell, they could put me away for life!"
"Not if nobody told."
"Sure! That's what you say now. You'll probably keep saying it until you get your rocks off. But what about tomorrow? What about when you run to Mommy and Daddy and tell 'em how this big bad man rammed his banana between your legs, and papa can't we sue him and get a really neat big car out of the deal!"
She stared at him: But he didn't buy the surprised look in her eyes. Instead, he leaned over toward her and pointed his finger in her face. "Listen, dollie, do you think you're the only cock-teasing female who's wanted to come out here on a joy ride with me? Hell, they come in every day. I can spot 'em a mile away. I can even smell 'em a mile away! They all have that pussy-hungry walk and that prick-eating grin. And I always know what they want. They want a free fuck!"
"And do you give it to them?"
"Hell yes, I do. But not to any sassy little bitch like you who isn't dry behind the ears!"
Priss found her voice again with difficulty. "You mean that you... you do this all the time?"
"Fuck the customers? Hell, I fuck the men with their money when they buy a piece of junk. And I fuck their women whenever they ask for it."
"Every day? All the time?"
"Day in and day out. Last week I fucked three dumb cunts in one afternoon. I was busy as a bird dog sniffing assholes. I balled the last one right over there on that soft stretch of sand after hanging her damp panties on a bush!"
His obscene confessions rocked Priss right to her toes. And she couldn't wait to throw the garbage in Joan's direction. It would serve that righteous bitch right.
"Fuck me, too," she said, flatly.
"Not a chance, doll. You're cute. And I can see that you've had a couple of high school studs maybe hump you a few times, but you're barking at the wrong stud."
"Why, damnit!"
"You're too young. I don't rob the goddamn cradle."
"I'll bet your four sisters robbed yours, though!"
He gave her a hooded glance, and she could see the corners of his mouth turning up in an evil, calculating little grin.
"You do have a damned dirty mind, don't you?" he rasped.
"You fucked them, didn't you?"
"Well, I... "
"I'll bet you filled those hot holes anytime they wanted it!"
"Maybe so, but... "
"No buts about it! I'll bet you're just dying to see what it would be like again to screw a young girl. I'll bet you have wet dreams thinking about all that tight pussy you used to get your boyish prick into!"
Bill's grin was twitching all over his face. His eyes were glittering with the rare lust that males usually save for fucking dirty-mouthed whores.
"You really want it bad, eh?" he whispered, hoarsely.
"Wrong, Mister Car Casanova. I want it good. I've had it bad enough times from those slam-bam-thank'ya-ma'am high school slit-hounds. Now I'd like to have it from a man!"
Priss could see the bulge tenting up the front of his pants. He had a hard-on, all right. What male worth his balls could have managed to not get one hearing a pretty young thing like her beg for a good fuck.
"You promise to be a good little girl, if I ball you?" he breathed, hotly. "You promise not to tell your daddy how you let a dirty old man put his great big pussy-stretcher between your cute legs?"
"What do you want, damnit, a notary public? Yes, I promise!"
He grinned and winked at her. "In that case, I'm sure lucky I brought this along."
Out of his pocket he pulled something that looked like a shuttlecock for playing badminton. Instead of feathers, it had dozens of little springy prongs of rubber.
"What's that?" she demanded, weakly.
His grin was even bigger now, curling up toward his ears.
"It's what they call a tickler, baby doll. Something to make that hot little pussy of yours fell so good it'll tingle for a week."
She had heard of such things, but she had never seen one. Nevertheless, a lusty little ripple of pleasure rolled up the center of her cunt.
"How does it work?" she wheezed.
"Get those goddamn panties off your ass, and I'll be happy to demonstrate!"