Chapter 4
The next morning Robin could hardly get out of bed. The tendons on the inside of her thighs felt stretched beyond limits, the muscles in the small of her back and in her ass felt strained, her tits were red and raw with teeth marks-and her asshole was sore. Like a kitten with its first scent of catnip, Bud had gone after her cunt with crazed hunger and crazy playfulness. Robin finally got his face out of her pussy at six o'clock by phoning the Chinese restaurant at the nearby shopping center for an order of chop suey and egg foo yung. She had insisted on a shower after they had eaten, but Bud was back at her cuntal trough for his dessert. Robin had swung her body around after she had come twice, thinking a session of sixty-nine would slow him down. She sucked enough semen out of him to fill an eight ounce cup, she thought, but the boy still suckled her clitoris. It seemed to Robin that she had been in a state of orgasm for months. Her joybud was in physical misery, and her cunt felt sorely abused.
"Bud!" she had said finally, "would you like to fuck me?"
"Oh boy! Would I!" He had rolled her over on her back, kneed her legs apart, and settled on top of her. His hand grabbed his hard cock. "You better put it in, Miss Cane."
"Right! Be careful, Bud. You can't put it in my cunt, remember!"
"How we gonna fuck?"
"Fuck me up the ass."
"Shit! " Robin laughed. "Maybe! Take it easy, Bud. My asshole's pretty small." She should have used a whole jar of Vaseline she thought later, instead of a copious layer of her cunt juice. It hurt like hell when he shoved his cock into her. It hurt worse as he continued to bang into her rectum, rotating his ass in wild swings as his stubborn cock refused to blow. Meanwhile his teeth bit into her breasts and nipples as lust drove him beyond control. Robin had finally managed to get him out of the house by eleven o'clock, and dropped him in front of his home at eleven-fifteen.
Robin soaked in a hot bath for half an hour, relieving some of the soreness, but the sense of shame and guilt was worse than ever. She began to suspect she harbored some sort of evil monster within her, planted perhaps by that most evil of men, Mr. Goggins, and now developed completely beyond her control. There had to be something wrong with her, Robin thought. 'I can't imagine Mother seducing a twelve-year-old boy, nor Father... Migod! I shouldn't dare to even think such a thought!' Bud Riggs failed to come to school Tuesday. Robin was glad she need not face him this day. By the time she completed her last class at two in the afternoon, she was almost at the point of collapse . At home a few minutes later, Robin stripped off her clothes, tossed them on a chair, and fell into bed, sleeping soundly until the telephone wakened her a few minutes after five. Reaching for the receiver, Robin yawned into the phone, then spoke.
A man's voice answered her sleepy "hello". "Sounds like 'Sleepy Time in the Suburbs'. This is Bob Morris. Hope I didn't wake you, Miss Cane."
"Who is this?" Robin sat up, fully awake.
"Bob Morris. You're Robin, I would guess. I'm a partner of your dad's... "
"Oh, oh yes! I remember, Mister Morris. Dad's spoken of you... he's not home. He... "
"I know, Robin. I wonder if he took my attach' case home with him last Friday by mistake. Would you mind checking... it's a black one. I see he left his here at the office."
"Hold on, Mister Morris. If it's here I know exactly where I'll find it. One moment!" Robin went down the hall to the den. A black attach' case was on the floor beside the desk. The initials "R.J.M." were stamped in gold beneath the leather handle. Returning to her bedroom, she said into the phone, "I have it, Mister Morris."
"Good! It's filled with a file of papers I need to examine tonight, Robin. Would you mind if I stopped by to pick it up?"
"Not at all. What time?"
"Six o'clock okay, Robin?"
"I'll see you." Robin cradled the phone, wondering what Mr. Morris looked like. He had a deep and resonant voice. Dad had spoken of him a number of times six months ago when he had discussed him with Mother as a prospective partner in the Cane Sales Agency. All that Robin could remember about him, however, was that he was a bachelor under thirty years of age. Deciding she would go out for dinner and go to a movie afterward, she bathed and dressed. By a quarter of six she was seated in the living room watching the news on TV. A few minutes later the doorbell chimed. Robin opened the door to find a young man of medium height with brown hair carefully combed over both ears. Long bushy sideburns flared out on his cheeks to meet the ends of his full mustache.
"Robin?" White regular teeth flashed in a pleasant smile beneath his mustache.
"Mister Morris? Won't you come in?" Robin showed him into the living room. "Have a seat. I'll get your case." When she returned to the living room, he was leaning forward staring intently at the TV screen. Robin stood to one side, regarding his well-shaped head and attractive profile, thinking that if she ever did date a young man, it would be someone like Bob Morris. She had gone through college refusing to date any boy. Because of her unusual ability in grammar and high schools, Robin had skipped grades, and on entering college, was several years younger than any of her classmates. The two years she had spent under the evil dominance of Mr. Goggins, doing any and every act he could imagine to satisfy his weird lust, had embittered her as to relations with any older male. Not that she had not taken enormous pleasure in such lustful actions-she resented the fact that she had been forced to do them, and even more deeply resented the very fact that she had enjoyed them.
"Gosh, Robin!" Morris said, jumping to his feet, "I didn't hear you. These color TV sets are really something else, aren't they? I must get me one soon."
Robin held out the case. "Would you like to see the rest of the news? You're welcome to stay for a while, if you like."
"Thanks, Robin." He took the attach' case from her, glanced at it, and set it on the chair, "That's it, all right. I can't stay - not today, Robin. I'm going to have dinner, then go home and do my homework." His glance swept over her. He smiled, "Looks like you're dressed for a dinner date."
Robin shook her head. "I never date," she said. "I am going out for dinner, then maybe a movie."
He tilted his head, squinting his eyes in query. "I seldom date either, Robin, because I'm so damned busy with business. How about the two of us taking an evening off and enjoying a steak. I'll get you back home early. I have a lot of work to do tonight."
"All right! Fine! I'd better get a sweater. Won't be a minute." I'm safe with him, she thought, slipping on a beaded evening sweater. She was not quite sure what she was safe from, but he was at least ten years older!
"Got any preferences, Robin?" Morris asked as he helped her into his Chevrolet. "I usually go to The Steak House when I eat out. Like steak?"
"I sure do. I'm hungry."
Morris got behind the wheel, started the motor, and turned to smile at her. "They have a nice little dance band. Do you like to dance?"
"Hm!" Robin muttered noncommittally. She began to realize how gauche she was in the normal social relationship between a man and a woman. Not once had she ever stepped onto a dance floor in the arms of a man. Worse, she had no small talk to keep a conversation flowing. On arrival at the restaurant, she was near panic at the thought of trying to dance, yet how could she gracefully refuse? As the head waiter seated them in a corner booth, Robin recalled her mother's easy manner when her father had taken the family out to dinner. She handed the large menu to Morris.
"Why don't you order? You know what's good here, Mister Morris."
"I'd be glad to, Robin - and please! My first name's Bob. Like martinis?"
"Yes, thanks, Bob."
Bob raised two fingers as a waiter approached. The waiter nodded and withdrew. "I always have a martini before a steak." His brown eyes twinkled. "I'm surprised he didn't ask for your driver's license."
"Why, Bob?"
Laughter crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Forgive me, Robin, but you're such a lovely, dainty young lady - you look no more than sixteen."
"I'll be nineteen next February."
"Yes." His smile was warm and friendly. "Your father told me you got through college at an early age, and I understand the minimum age for a teacher in Ocean County is eighteen." The waiter set the drinks before them. "To you, Robin, and a lovely evening."
Robin seldom drank, but she raised her glass eagerly. She needed the relaxing effect she always felt after one martini. Three musicians mounted the small platform as they finished their drinks.
"Would you like another one, Robin?"
She shook her head, very slightly. The martini seemed a bit stronger than usual, and she was a bit giddy. She felt the flush in her face, the warmth in her stomach, and the weakness in her legs. The musicians began to play.
"How about a dance before we order?" Bob was already on his feet, moving the table aside to help her to her feet.
Robin looked up into his eager face, a nervous giggle in her throat. "I'm really not very good... "
"Nonsense! A girl with a figure like yours?" He took her hand and urged her to her feet. "I'm the one with two left feet." Bob steered her through the narrow aisles between tables with his hands on her hips. Robin turned into his arms as they reached the dance floor. She stumbled several times before she caught the rhythm of his movement, then seemed to settle into a graceful stride. The music was slow and dreamy. She warmed to the feel of his strong arm around her waist, and his hand on the small of her back urging her this way, now that way as he turned her in slow, easy circles. The fabric of his tan double-knit jacket was smooth to her cheek, and the odor of his cologne exciting. "I thought you couldn't dance," he whispered in her ear.
Robin leaned her head back to look up at him, knowing her excitement showed in her glittering eyes. "I thought I couldn't either," she replied with a grin. She was suddenly aware that her action had forced her pubes against his crotch, and she hastened to back off before she roused a worrisome response. The music lasted through a medley of three or four songs. Flushed with this hitherto unknown pleasure, Robin returned to their table, her hand in Bob's as she regretfully followed him.
"Oh, Bob! I enjoyed that," she said, her face glowing, as he seated her, moved the table in and sat down.
"We'll do it again, Robin, as soon as I get a food order in." He summoned the waiter, ordered steaks, salads, and a baked potato. "I like mine rare, Robin. And you?"
"I like my meat pink," she replied, then blushed and lowered her eyes.
"Pink is a nice color, isn't it?"
Robin wondered if she detected a note of sly amusement in his voice. The music started up again, and they returned to the dance floor. Feeling much more relaxed and comfortable, Robin was more aware of their close body contact. No wonder women enjoyed dancing, she thought. She thrilled to the touch of his thigh between hers on tight turns, the pressure of his hipbone against her pubes, and the warmth of his hand on her back just above her buttocks. Several times she sensed his cockflesh on the inside of her thighs, although he made no attempt to maintain the fleeting contact. What thrills she had denied herself, the everyday pleasures normal men and women found in legitimate social contacts, such as her father and mother had enjoyed. How sweet it must be to fall in love with a mature and handsome man... like Bob! And not to seek the lustful joys of seduction of small innocent boys.
The steaks were delicious. Bob ordered brandy with their coffee. They danced again before leaving. Robin seemed to float about the dance floor in a rosy haze of romance, sensing Bob's warm intense interest in her, yet grateful for the cool control he exercised over his obviously aroused physical passion for her.
On the way home, Robin slid over to sit close to him. He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her upper biceps.
"You're quite a gal, Robin! I had a wonderful time."
"So did I, Bob, a really wonderful time." In the driveway, Robin got out of the car. Her nervousness returned. How do girls act on their first date? How far do they let their man go? A kiss at the door? She put the key in the lock, and opened the door. "How about a cup of coffee, Bob, before you leave?"
"Thanks, Robin, but I'll just pick up my attach' case. I left it on the chair in the living room. I got several hours work ahead of me tonight."
"Come in." Robin was disappointed. Bob hadn't even kissed her! He crossed the room, got his case, and returned to the door. "When will I see you again?"
Bob set his case on the floor. "This is Tuesday. I have a business deal tomorrow evening. Are you free for dinner Thursday night?" Robin nodded. "Good! I'll pick you up at six." He put his arms around her to lift her off the floor.
"Jesus!" he whispered, "you're lovely, Robin!" His lips were warm and tender. Robin threw her arms about his neck, and ran her hand up and down his back as she felt the tip of his tongue brush the inside of her lips. "Mmmm! You taste good!" he whispered.
Robin opened her mouth to suck in his stiff, probing tongue. She could feel his cock, hard and upright in his slacks, pulse against her belly, a huge cock swollen with love for her, a mature man's cock pounding its expression of his love.
"Darling!" he whispered, "Oh my lovely darling!"
Her whole body flamed with passionate desire. He let her descend slowly, her clitoris sliding over the length of his hard throbbing cock until her feet reached the floor. Robin sagged against him. She wanted him! God! How she wanted him! He released her, stepped back, and reached for his case.
"Bob!" she moaned.
"Jesus! I nearly forgot myself. Robin! I'm sorry. I better go! Thursday night. Six o'clock!"
He was gone! Robin stood in the doorway, tense, tears flooding down her cheeks. She waved as he backed out of the driveway. "Thursday night, darling!" he called as he drove away.
Robin closed the door. Shaken and somewhat embittered, she leaned against the door. She had never been so thoroughly aroused. Why had he fled without satisfying the craving he had induced in her? She walked slowly into her bedroom and flicked on the light switch. Undressing, she stood before her dresser mirror. Was this the way men in love acted? She ran her hands over her breasts and belly. The furrowed lines in her brow vanished. Her eyes lighted with joy. 'Of course!' she thought, 'that's exactly what they do! They don't think of their loved ones as a piece of ass! They don't try to fuck them the first moment... Joyous laughter burst from her throat as she pirouetted about the room, hugging her dress to her breasts. "He loves me! He loves me! He loves me!"
Robin hung her dress in the closet, kicked off her shoes, and went into the bathroom. The crotch of her panties was soaked. She slipped the waistband over her hips, let them fall to the floor, then stooped to pick them up. Putting the wet crotch to her nose, she inhaled deeply. The scent seemed to be different somehow. She tossed them into the hamper, and glanced at her reflection in the wall mirror. There was a glow about her face she had never seen before.
'I'm in love!' she thought. 'Wait till I tell Mom and Dad! At last I'm one of them!' Seated on the toilet to void a full bladder, she spread her legs wider to examine her genitalia, quelling an urge to finger herself to a release of the tension built up in her since her first dance. "You're not mine alone anymore, little pussy!" she whispered. "You belong to my love!"