Chapter 4
Shirley was not a drinker per se;an occasional cocktail or some wine during dinner was generally her limit. Her aquaintances in the apartment house all insisted she could stretch one drink further than anyone else they knew, and she thought of them at that moment as she idly agitated the Scotch and water in her hand. She listened to the tinkle of ice against the sides of the narrow glass and the thin plastic stirrer, smiling bleakly; those friends of hers would certainly change their opinion if they could see her now, perched up on a bar-stool.
The misery-laden piano teacher was in Jack's Trap, a suburban cocktail lounge mid-way between Larry's home and the Syndey. It was as far as she'd been able to drive before ragged nerves, tormenting guilt, and blinding tears had forced her to pull over in search of relief. Idly die had whiled away the hours, unable to face ihe prospect of teaching any more students that day, dully listening to the background and feeling the hot alcohol burning all the way down to fill her churning stomach. This was her fifth drink in almost as many hours, and she had the determined intention of staying at Jack's -Trap for as long as was necessary to quell her bleeding heart, or until she could no longer remain intact on the bar-stool.
The tortured woman felt a little ashamed at the way she'd been drinking, but she couldn't help feeling grateful for the lightheadedness that swirled through her blood and eased the agony that was paralyzing her brain. Her repugnance for having seduced little Larry Dempsey was worse than she had first imagined, for the more she meditated upon it, the more loathing became the thought of her rape. And rape it had been; a lewd, molesting rape. The poor boy had been given no chance against her carnal instincts once she had attacKed his defenseless immaturity with lusting desire. She had left him confused and upset after having hurriedly dressed and making pitifully transparent excuses. It had been a terrible route from his house, and leaving him in such an agitated condition, Shirley couldn't be sure of what the youngster might do now. Even though he'd promised to keep their morning together a secret, a child of his age had little control, and she could recall her own school days with the ever-present locker-room talk by both the boys and girls. A horrible nightmare welled up on the older woman's mind as she envisioned Larry bragging to his friends how he'd fucked his music teacher under the piano, and what would happen once her perverted streak was known. The notoriety; the ruination of her career; perhaps even prison, forever to be marked as a child molestor. . . The mere thought of the possibilities made Shirley lift the glass and take another deep swallow, choking to hold down the burning liquor.
God, how could she have ever done such a sordid act? She hung her head sorrowfully, wondering what warped part of her nature had taken control and driven her to seduce trusting young Larry. And worse, to encourage him to continue until he had lost all of his boyish innocence to satisfy her deplorable passions. Truly, she had unchained a prurience that could possibly torment him for the rest of his life.
Needfully, Shirley drained the last of her Scotch, almost upsetting the glass as she set it back down on the polished mahogany bar. She was, she realized dizzily, becoming slightly drunk! Actually she didn't want to get drunk, only drown her sorrow and humiliation. She paused to glance around her, watching for a few moments the large jovial bartender hustling industriously to keep up with the Saturday afternoon crowd. A waitress in net stockings and a short dress with white peplum moved gracefully among the dimly lit tables, always smiling, always cajoling another drink from the customers, even when some of the men became fresh and obnoxious toward her. Down the stools from Shirley were three couples, all of them with the married look to them, and from the snatches of conversation which drifted in Shirley's direction now and then, she became aware they were arranging a small bridge-club tournament for that evening.
How normal, she considered ruefully. How decent and middle-class and right. The wives were all pretty and fresh, obviously in love with their husbands, and at ease with their friends and neighbors. Not like she was, huddled in her own cold world of sexual ostracism. They would go to bed with the men of their choice, loving them and the physical union the way women should, knowing the delights of being lost in a man's embrace. But not her ...
The anguished teacher turned back on her stool, unable to take the sight of the laughing couples any longer. No, though the dull ache between her thighs was from a lover's penetration, the lover had been a fourteen year old boy. A fumbling, inexperienced teenager barely in his puberty had been the male who'd finally been able to give her body a wonderful new sense of satisfaction . . . and give her the feeling of emptiness once his slender, virile penis had been withdrawn from her ravaged vagina. She clenched the glass tightly, thinking of her suddenly unleashed cravings that she had denied for so long within her loins, and how now they had been awakened into an unquenchable force. She prayed that she would be able to suppress them once again, and that in time there would be nothing but a minor scar on her mind to remind her she had ever given way to them.
But at the moment, the salacious incident with young Larry Dempsey twisted like a knife in her soul. Had she been the morally upright person she'd always considered herself to be, she .vould have been able to avert the whole ;orrupting seduction of the boy. She was compelled to admit that she was weak; that she was a woman who was slave to her perverse emotions. It was a frightening realization for Shirley to make, knowing she could never fully ~ust her flesh again. According to her mother, Ladies were perfect and unblemished by sin or lust; now she could no longer claim to be that kind of person. She was painfully aware of the overpowering temptations of her body's sexual needs, and nothing could ever blot out the lewd sensations to which she'd so willingly responded.
Dear God, would any of her music pupils be safe from her now? She'd have to take double precautions to see that it never, ever happened again, salvaging what little self-respect she could muster. Perhaps it was her pride, her stubborn resolve not to be beaten which prompted her decision to go on as though nothing had happened. Whatever - she knew that it must not repeat itself, no matter how enticing little Larry or any of the other boys became.
But there was nothing she could do about it now, except to wait. Wait and hope and pray ...
She glanced up, sensing the presence of the smiling bartender. "You wanna 'nother, lady?" he asked, and a gold tooth glinted in the light.
"Y - Yes, another Scotch. And . . . not very much water, if you please."
"Easy on the water," the bartender said. "Sure, lady, sure. And this one's on the house, seein' as you've been a good customer and beautifying up the place."
"You don't have to."
"I want to, lady. I've had troubles of my own, so I know what it's like. We'll help drown whatever's ailing you . . . '
While Shirley was sitting in Jack's Trap and becoming increasingly inebriated, young Larry Dempsey was being harrassed by his brother Frank and the oafish Kirby Murdock. They had returned around noon, shortly after Mrs. Dempsey had returned from her Saturday grocery shopping in town, and the three boys were in the playroom, the door shut for privacy. Larry was sitting at the piano, staring disconsolantly at the keyboard and remembering all that had taken place there only hours before, and Frank and Kirby were sprawled on a large leather couch against the opposite wall.
"So how did it go this morning, pecker-tracker?" Frank maliciously goaded his' younger brother. "Did ol' Mrs. Jackson teach you how to play Chopsticks? "
Larry didn't reply.
"Hell, nothing could make me take lessons igain," Kirby said with obvious disgust. "I had enough of that sissy stuff before. Thank God my ma wised up finally, though I'll never forget that whipping I got from my ol' man."
"But Larry here likes it," sneered Frank. "Larry is in love with Mrs. Jackson, aren't you?"
Still young Larry remained silent, although he could feel his face burning with embarrassment at the all-too-true jibe.
"Yeah, see him blush? He's got a hard-on for his pianner teacher!"
"Haw! Haw!" Kirby snickered, and then with a glint in his eyes, he nudged Frank in the ribs, adding, "Well, there could be worse broads to have the hots for. Mrs. Jackson's sure got a nice bod!"
Frank whistled appreciatively. "You're not kidding. What a pair of knockers! And that tight, sweet ass! Now, if she was teaching sex instead of music, I'd be her star pupil!"
"Think of the tests!" Kirby expounded, waving his arms in obscene gestures. "A mid-term in screwing, and a final in pussy licking! Man, I'd flunk, just to take the class over again!"
"Never happen, though," Larry's older brother sighed reflectively. "She's a real prude, and what a shame. All that nice meat going to waste. I wonder if she's got a guy banging her regularily? I never heard of one, have you, Kirby?"
The other sixteen year old shook his head, "Naw, I hear tell she's strictly an old maid. Nobody's getting into her box."
"I know a kid who'd love to drop his drawers for her, though," Frank snickered cruelly. He pointed a finger at his younger brother. "Larry would. Larry creams in his pants every time she comes here on Saturday. Only his prick ain't big enough yet to stick in a squirrel, much less Mrs. Jackson's bush!"
Larry by this time was beside himself with frustration and pent-up resentment. He'd been goaded almost beyond endurance by the two older boys with their lewd talk of how immature he was and his childish crush for his piano teacher. And their contempt for Mrs. Jackson not having a boy friend was the last straw! She did have a boy friend - him! Or, at least ... that's what she'd said this morning, before she'd suddenly turned cold and distant. Almost in a wishful desire to prove she still wanted him, and to have his brother and Kirby finally admire him, Larry was unable to resist the temptation to brag about what he'd done. He really had something on Frank and his friend now! They'd sure change their tune about him and Mrs. Jackson once they knew he'd screwed her today! He hopped off the stool and clenching his small hands into fists, went over to the couch. He stood in front of the two teenagers, quivering with emotion.
"Yeah?" he retorted. "Well, you shoot your mouths off a lot, but I never see any action outa you, either."
"I suppose you can tell us different?" Frank replied, curling his lip disparagingly.
"I sure can," Larry said, now impulsive with his need to tell all. "You talk about wanting Mrs. Jackson, and how nobody can get into her. Well, you're wrong! I know ... because this morning, right here, I fucked her!"
"Flake off," Frank scoffed. "You've been beating your meat too hard, and it's rotted your brain."
"You've gotta have a few more years on you before you could tackle a woman like Mrs. Jackson," Kirby added. "She'd use your pecker for worm bait "to catch fish." And then both the older boys laughed contemptuously at the fourteen year old.
Larry snapped back angrily: "I'm not making it up! It's the truth! She stood over there by the piano and took all her clothes off until she was bare-ass naked!"
Frank, now frowning, caught his brother's intensity. "Hey, you're not kidding! Mrs. Jackson? You really fucked Mrs. Jackson?"
"Scout's honor!" Larry said excitedly, and seeing that he'd finally caught their attention, he hurried on with his story without considering either his promise to the older woman or the possible consequences for his rashness. "I was sitting under the piano, and then she got down on her hands and knees and crawled over to me, her titties swaying like bells! Then she started kissing me, and undressing me right there, and then she was playing with my prick! After a little of that, she rolls over on her back like a dog and tells me to tickle her twat! Man, that was fun!"
"Jesus!" Kirby gasped, his eyes widening with admiration. "You were finger-fucking Mrs. Jackson! Then what happened?"
"Well, she writhes and moans while I jerk her cunt off, and then she gets me up over her and sticks my pecker into her snatch. Fuck me! she was begging. Fuck me hard! So I did, and ..."
As Frank's younger brother recounts his tale of seduction, the older boy listened with baited breath. After his first breathless shock at hearing the news, he began to take in all the sordid details, and he could almost picture the lovely older woman naked on the floor, urging Larry to fuck her harder and faster. In spite of this having happened to his younger brother, Frank began to experience a certain vicarious response, his own penis starting to throb responsively in his pants with lurid excitement. He was forced to press his legs together to quell the tingling sensations that his brother's obscene account was rising in his loins, not wanting to have Larry or Kirby see him with an erection. That would be uncool!
But his salacious brain was saying to him: So Mrs. Jackson is hot for little boys, is she? A thin smile of prurient delight creased his lips as the teenager thought of the older music instructor, and of how he'd heard that she never responded to men around her own age. So that was the reason! She liked kids instead! Mrs. Jackson was nothing more than a grownup girl. .. and Frank was willing to bet that the older woman would be willing to spread her legs for other youngsters now that she had seduced his brother. And even if Mrs. Jackson wasn't willing, there might not be much she could do about it ... not now that he knew all about what had happened to Larry ...
The wicked young boy turned his undivided attention back to his brother, just as Larry was finishing his story. " ... She said she really liked it. But gee, then she turned awfully funny. She said we must never do it again, but she wouldn't give me any reason. Then she got into her clothes and rushed out of here!"
"Maybe you did it wrong," Kirby said. "Like I said, it takes more'n you've got to satisfy a real woman!"
Frank placed a restraining hand on Kirby's arm, interrupting with: "Naw, Larry, you did it just right. I can tell by the way you described it. You fucked her good, and she came just like she should've. You oughta be proud!"
"Well, then, why did she go away the way she did?"
"Women are funny about fucking, Larry. You'll learn that after another few times. Hell, she said she didn't want you to screw her again, but really she does!"
"Yeah, girls all the time say things like that," Kirby added. His own mind was beginning to understand the track Frank's fertile ideas were leading. "Something to do about their pride. They never can just fuck and like it; they have to have been drunk and don't remember, or raped and never wanted it, or some damned fool excuse to make them feel pure and holy again."
"You mean you think I could do it again to Mrs. Jackson?"
"That's what were're telling you, lame-brain," Frank said, and then after a small pause, he concluded: "In fact, I figure we could all bang her, and she'd love it!"
Larry sucked in his breath, his eyes blinking as he heard the emphasis of his brother's words. "Hey, now wait a minute ..."
"What's the matter, Larry? Afraid to share her?"
"No, it's not that, but ... " He wasn't sure exactly what it was that suddenly bothered him, but he was now very sorry he had ever opened his mouth so brashly. He had seen that kind of leering grin spreading across Frank's mouth before, and it always meant trouble. If anything happened to Mrs. Jackson because he'd mouthed off to his brother, he'd never forgive himself. He still loved her, in spite of how she'd acted toward him, and he didn't want her to regret making love with him any more than she did already. That wouldn't be right!
"Yeah, I believe you're straight on," Kirby went on to say. "We could all pile on her, Frank, and she'd eat it up like cake!"
"Eat us up, you mean!"
Larry desperately sought to persuade them from their obscene ideas. "Hey, listen, if you force her to do anything, she could have you arrested for rape!"
"Jesus," Kirby said, thinking about that for a moment. "She did that, and" our ass would be grass! We could get expelled or maybe put into jail or something!"
"Don't be stupid, stupid," Frank sneered. "After what she did to Larry, we could squeal on her. And they've got a fancy label for grownups who fool around with kids his age!" Then Frank snickered lewdly. "Besides, you remember how we fixed Monica Wellhaur's wagon last summer?"
"You mean with that stuff farmer Hadley sold us?"
"Right. That liquid he uses on his cows to make them breed faster, that Spanish Fly? After putting that in Monica's Coke, she was begging for us to bang her!"
"Yeah ..." Kirby said, licking his thick lips noisily. "She ended up humping the gear-shift knob in your Chevy, she was so hot! You thinking of doing the same thing to Mrs. Jackson?"
Frank shrugged. "Why not?"
"How?"
"Shut up a minute, and I'll tell you." He leaned back against the couch importantly, his eyes sparkling with a lewdly conceived plan.
"Now, she'll be here next Saturday, won't she? And Ma will be out of the house as usual, so we'll set it up just like it was this morning, and it'll look like she's alone with Larry again. That'll put her at ease."
"That's great!" Kirby enthused. "Though I dunno how I'll hold out the whole week until then. What're we going to do to make her drink the Spanish Fly?"
"It'll be best if Larry offers her water or juice or something. You know, on account it'll seem like we're not here, and she trusts Larry." Then he turned his attention to his younger brother, who was nervously figiting in front of him. "You with us, kid? Or are you chicken-shit?" ¦ "Well, gee, I dunno . .. ". Kirby snorted. "See, Frank? He's scared. He's too young. Why, he's probably making up the whole story just to put us on."
"No, it's true!" Larry protested hotly, but he was frightened. He was terrified of the whole idea of helping his brother and Kirby screw his music teacher. . . But then, this was his big chance to. show them he was grownup as they were! If he backed down now, they'd never let him forget it! His life would be doubly as difficult with them constantly needling him. Gripes, what should he do?
"You want to fuck Mrs. Jackson again, don't you? You said you did, Larry," Frank encouraged. "Well, here's your chance. You help us, and you get some of the action. Okay?"
"Well..." Damn it, the mere thought of that tight wet box of hers sliding up and down over his penis was making it harden in his underpants again! Darned tooting he wanted more of his music teacher's loving! "Okay, I'll do it," he agreed reluctantly. "Only you gotta promise you won't hurt her any."
"Naw, we won't."
"A little fucking never hurt no girl," Kirby added. "And she's a woman ., . one hell of a woman, who'd be able to take on all three of us and love it. All three of us ever-fucking guys at the same time and love it! You just wait and see, Larry!"
Shirley Jackson was once again late for her Saturday morning session with young Larry Dempsey. As the time for his lesson rolled around, the music teacher hadn't been sure she could even force herself to face the boy again or not, but when the morning came, she had bathed and dressed almost out of habit, driving across San Martin as if nothing had taken place at his house the week before.
Nothing had happened? Dear God, how could she even think of her despicible seduction last Saturday morning in terms of nothing? She had spent the past seven days trying to forget her molesting assault on his developing genitals, realizing she had to or she'd never be able to go on living. But simply the anticipation of seeing his lithe, eager body was enough to open her wounds again! Dear Lord, how did she dare face little Larry?
Yet as she considered the alternatives, she knew with sinking heart that her only choice was to continue teaching the youngster as she had her other pupils this last week. A hasty, feigned sick-call would only delay the inevitable, and she would have to return to his home sooner or later, the situation all the worse for her erratic behavior. A quick resignation would only place her in jeopardy, for then Larry's parents would become concerned over her abrupt departure and ask their son if he had done anything to cause it. And under pressure, the child would confess he had done something to his piano teacher, and the truth would spill out.
No, just as she had determined while sitting on the bar-stool last week, she would simply have to brazen it out and trust things didn't get any worse than they already were. But God, how could they?
She reached the porch of the Dempsey house, and then a deep, shudder rippled over her flesh. Larry was just beyond the front door, waiting for her to ring the bell, the memories of last Saturday still fresh and vibrant in his immature mind. God, did she have the strength to go through with it ... especially as once more she saw that the stationwagon and hot-rod weren't in the driveway? Well, if she couldn't face Larry all alone again, she had better turn around right that instant and run as fast and as far as she could ...
Resolutely, she took a breath and with chin held high, pushed the doorbell. The youngster opened the door almost immediately. He stood there, his face drawn in an oddly serious manner, and in response to his intensely soulful expression, the older.woman's throat suddenly went dry. She could feel that rather than blushing, her blood was draining from her face, almost leaving her too weak to support herself.
"Come in, Mrs. Jackson," Larry said. He closed the door behind her, and silently, they walked into the playroom. This time she didn't sit down in the chair next to the piano, not even daring to chance the close proximity. She went to the wide leather couch across the room and leaned gratefully against the cushions, crossing her legs and smoothing the hem of her flower-print dress primly down over her knees. "NOw, shall we begin with the Moonlight Sonata, Larry?" she asked briskly. "I ... don't have as much time this week, and the recital is tonight, only a few hours away."
Her cool aloofness confused the inexperienced youngster, for his brother Frank had assured him that Mrs. Jackson really did want to make love with him again, and would be cheery and pleasant. Maybe Frank and Kirby were right, and she needed that Spanish Fly to give her an excuse to relax. Larry had, in his innocence, believed the two older teenagers when they'd described the dangerous aphrodisiac as only a mild calming tonic, much like a drink or a marijuana cigarette.
"I ... I wanted to apologize, Mrs. Jackson," he said contritely. He didn't go to the piano, but stood with his eyes downcast in the middle of the room. "I didn't mean to make you mad at me last week. I only want you to like me." The sad, repentent tone in his voice made
Shirley wanted to weep bitter tears. After all, he was not responsible, even if in his inexperience and hurt he was taking the blame for what had happened. It had been her own shameless desires which had led him to fuck her; she had been the seducer, not him. "I'm not mad at you," she said after a pause. "It's just that. . . well, we can't do what we did ever again, and I.. . I don't want to make it seem as if we can."
"But why can't we?" the boy pleaded.
"Because . .. because it's wrong. Oh, it's very complicated, Larry, and you'll simply have to take my word for it." She squeezed her eyes shut, stroking her forehead with her hand. "Please, go and play the Sonata."
"You look awfully pale, Mrs. Jackson. Are you sick?"
"No, just a little tired. I've got a headache, too."
Larry hesitated for a moment longer, uncertain if he should go through with the indecent plan of his brother's now. This was his opportunity, right now . . . and his tongue nervously circled his lips as he looked at the mature body of his music teacher, his virile brain filled with the hopes of repeating what they'd done last Saturday morning. He could feel his temples pulsing strongly with the force of his passions ... passions which had been incensed by Frank's constant talking all week long. His mind reeled with memories of the soft warmness of the older woman's firm round breasts, and he ached to possess the tender moist hole between her thighs until she cried out her need for him again. His nostrils flared with his renewed cravings, all thoughts of right or wrong quickly evaporating in the heat of his lustful desires.
"Would you .. . like something to drink?" he asked with a sly glint in his youthful eyes. "Some punch, maybe?"
"It's not necessary, Larry."
"I was going to have a glass when you came, Mrs. Jackson. Are you sure you won't join me?"
"Well, if it's no bother, that would be nice. You're such a sweet boy!"
A pang of guilt raced through the teenager as he turned to go out of the playroom. If Mrs. Jackson only knew how bad he really was, she wouldn't call him so sweet! But cripes, he wanted her so darned much, and Frank had promised this stuff wouldn't do her any harm!
The kitchen door was across the room from the living room entrance; it also had two other doors, one leading to the dining room, and the other at the back, opening out to the garage. As he pushed the swinging door open, he heard the scuttling of Frank and Kirby, who had been hiding all along behind the panel.
"How's it going, squirt?" Kirby asked the boy in a whisper.
"Fine, fine! She wants some of the punch!"
"Shhhhhh! Keep your voice down," Frank warned his younger brother. "You don't want her to hear us, do you?" He opened the refrigerator door and took out a glass filled with a deeply red, rasberry-looking liquid. "Here. This is for her, Larry. We already put a couple of drops of Spanish Fly into it."
"I need a glassful too," Larry explained. "Only without any of that stuff."
Frank poured a glass for his fourteen year old brother from the pitcher that was in the refrigerator, and handed it to him. "Now, you think you can keep them straight? They look alike, and they just about taste the same, too."
"Sure, no sweat," Larry replied in a conspiratorial tone. "The glass in my left is the doctored one. That's the one Mrs. Jackson's going to get!"
"Yeah, and we'll be right here, listening and peeking through the door. When you get her all nice and going, we'll come in!"
"Don't I get to fuck her first?"
"You just get her hot, asshole, and we'll take care of the rest!"
"Gee, I thought-"
"Go on, get out there before she starts suspecting something!"
Somewhat nettled by the older youth's arrogance, but determined to see the lurid plot through to completion, young Larry gripped the two glasses of punch and walked back into the playroom.
Shirley took the offerred glass from Larry, thanking him. She would have preferred a cool Scotch and water, but she was glad to have the punch to help soothe her quivering nerves. The last vestiges of her shattered respect still clung stubbornly, and she once again resolved not to let anything more occur between her and the child. She sipped the punch, finding its tangy taste quite unique and then drank again, heavier this time as she used the glass as a shield behind which to hold her growing agitation. She was completely unaware that she was also drinking Spanish Fly, only that this punch was tasting strange though not unpleasant the more she had. After consuming half a glass full, she could hardly feel the liquid going down her throat!
"Do you like it, Mrs. Jackson?" Larry asked solicitously, drinking his own punch.
"Yes," Shirley said, curious that an odd tingling was beginning in the pit of her stomach. "Yes, I do. What is it?"
"Oh, it's called Sangria. " An apt name, Larry thought; it was Spanish, like the name of the drug that was in it! "Mom makes it a lot during the hot weather. Of course, it's not real Sangria, because we leave out the booze."
"That's nice," Shirley replied, and her answer sounded a little inane even to her own ears. She automatically took another sip of the punch to hide her growing concern for the peculiar tickling feeling going on in her belly. It seemed to be moving outward in her blood now, and lower, down into her loins. But the more she drank, the more dulled her qualms became about what was happening to her .. . She had never felt quite like this before in her life, and the delicious taste of the Sangria seemed to filter through her flesh, teasing her nerves deep down between her legs...
The eager teenage boy waited for the Spanish Fly to take full effect, sitting down beside his music teacher on the couch, quivering with expectation. He caught the almost imperceptible trembling of the older woman's muscles as her natural defenses fell under the spell of the aphrodisiac. Inwardly, he gloated at the wicked scheme's apparent success...
"Mrs. Jackson ... "
"Yes?" Shirley looked up, blinking in a dreamy stupor.
"It was sure fun last week, wasn't it?"
"Fun?"
"Fucking you." Larry was at first a little apprehensive to talk such obscenities to his music teacher like this. His brother had instructed him to do it, thought, saying it would help make her hot faster, getting her mind on sex that much quicker. "We sure had fun fucking here under the piano, didn't we?"
Shirley sucked in her breath with a shiver, not wishing to think of what she had done with young Larry. But perversely the images came back to her, this time a hundred-fold as the Spanish Fly swirled heatedly through her blood. "Oh God," she shuddered uncontrollably. "God, yes . .. But it was so wrong to do, so terrible wrong. I'm a horrible woman, Larry."
Dimly the older woman was aware that young Larry was touching her arm with his hand now. She could smell the clean scent of his fresh young skin in her nostrils as he inched closer to her on the couch, and it quickened the pulse of her heart until she could hear it throbbing in her head. She felt the tender, virile flesh of the boy press against her thigh in a comforting gesture, and her breasts ached in swelling agony in their lacy cloth cups. God, her desire for him was worse than ever! What was she going to do?
"Gee, Mrs. Jackson, you're not horrible. You're wonderful. You shouldn't say bad things about yourself," Larry said in a soothing voice. He put his glass down on the side table and put his other hand on her leg. "Especially when they're not true!"
"Oh, but they are," his teacher moaned. "Nothing can make what I did to you right!"
"But it was right, Mrs. Jackson!" Suddenly, everything disappeared from his thoughts except the burgeoning demands of his budding sexuality. Mrs. Jackson's words of remorse were overwhelmed by the erotic sensations pulsing in his immature mind, and he was compulsively driven towards the older woman, whether the aphrodisiac was fully working in her system yet or not.
"It was right to fuck you!" he repeated in a loud voice, as though repetition would make it true. He pressed against her suddenly, planting moist rapid kisses on her cheeks, and the mature instructor gasped in shock. His slender pink tongue slipped through her open mouth in a tentative French kiss, and delicious little spasms of pleasure rippled unwantedly through her belly and up to the rising nipples of her breasts. She was on dangerous ground and knew it, but for some unexplainable reason could not bring herself to break away. She was held spellbound by the Spanish Fly in her blood and the evil fascination that indulging in something desired but forbidden gives, even against one's will.
Larry noticed his music teacher's gradually weakening defenses as he broke away from kissing her, and knew that the drug was beginning to work in force now. He raised his hand from her arm and pushed it gently against her breast, squeezing softly as he heard the older woman moan in torment. He could feel her firm round globes harden and swell under his massaging fingertips, even as she tried to pull away.
Shirley shuddered at the indecent touch upon her breast, but as she tried to resist it, the growing excitement in her loins spread like wildfire, draining her of the strength to stop the boy. She gasped for breath and squirmed against the cushion, pushing the moistening lips of her strangely tingling vagina against it to try and quench the blaze that was unaccountably burning between her thighs. But nothing seemed to work, and her body only responded with greater desire as his fingers groped at the zipper behind her back. Before she was fully cognizant of what was taking place, she could feel the cool rush of air against her skin as he pulled the metal clasp all the way down to the tops of her buttocks. Suddenly the top half of her dress slipped from her arms to fall in a heap in her lap, and the youthful fingers were now digging at the hooks of her brassiere. At that moment Shirley was able to summon enough resolution to break the narcotic effects of the Spanish Fly and resist this unnatural affair with the adolescent youth.
"Larry . . . listen, please, we mustn't..." she murmured brokenly, trying to tear herself away from his pleading grasp. Mustering all of her remaining moral strength she jerked back away from his passionate hands and fell against the cushions of the couch, her brassiere-clad breasts jiggling from the force of her action. Fighting for breath, she gasped: "Larry, we can't do this! We just can't!"
"Oh, Mrs. Jackson, yes! Yes, I have to fuck you again!" the teenager cried out, a note of anguished determination in his voice. Shirley stared questioningly into his young beardless face, and saw unadulterated animal lust gleaming hotly from his dark brown eyes. Dear God, his tender innocence was gone! And then the ghastly truth struck her that she was the entire cause of his change from a once cherubic youth. She had perverted him for her own lewd desires, teaching him lust for lust's own sake without the tempering of mercy or compassion. She had nobody to blame except herself that now his young body was filled with a salacious urge for her again.
"Larry . . .Oh, Larry, please wait a minute ... !"
"No! No, I can't wait! I want to touch you and kiss you and make love to you! Right now! Please, Mrs. Jackson, please .. . let's take our clothes off and fuck!"
He reached out with his arms for the older woman again, and Shirley struggled in the boy's embrace weakly for another moment. Then all resistance ceased in her muscles and sinew, the Spanish Fly having finally taken almost total effect of her senses. The fourteen year old pressed his advantage over his music teacher, and ignoring her feeble denials, pushed her down on the cushion seats of the couch. Shirley's legs inadvertently opened, one foot unceremoniously kicking up in the air as her dress hiked up to her thighs. Larry sucked in his breath, his eager eyes seeing the crotch of her white nylon panties, and the tiny blonde tendrils of soft pubic hair which curled out from around the edges of the elastic leg bands.
And then as the older woman stared upwards half in horror, half in perverted anticipation, Larry began to undress. She watched him remove his tee-shirt, exposing his hairless, developing chest which was beating rapidly as a tom-tom . . . then slowly, almost torturously, unbuckle his pants and slide them down over his legs and kick them off with his shoes. He rolled his undershorts down next, his stiffened shaft of hardened young manhood jutting out from his youthful loins like a slender lance poised to spear her defenseless belly without mercy.
"Ooohhhhh God, noooo .. . " Shirley murmured in a daze, struggling to overcome her own obscene passions and the inexplicible effects of the aphrodisiac. She only knew that somehow she had to find the strength to close her wide-splayed legs. .. but before she could, young Larry was lying nakedly between them again in a mockery of natural sex and love. She was dimly aware of his hands once more beginning to strip her of her clothing, and told herself to stop him . .. stop him before again her desires burst out of control and ruined both of them.
But her drugged body refused to follow the weak commands of her mind, and she was incapable of fighting off his slender young fingers as they awkwardly jerked her dress down from her waist and wriggled it beneath him and over the tops of her knees. This time he was able to successfully wrestle with the unfamiliar snaps of her brassiere, and the boy muttered a lusty sigh of appreciation as he tore the cupping material free from her full white breasts and sent it spinning onto the floor alongside her dress. He raised up to his knees then between her quivering legs, and fumbled with the elastic waistband of her thin white panties as she writhed in'the paralyzing hold of the Spanish Fly. It took a moment for him to be able to slide the fabric from her gently undulating buttocks, but he learned quickly, and soon the secretion-wet panties were added to the skimpy pile of clothing beside the couch.
There was nothing left. His music teacher lay before the youth, completely naked as the goddess Venus, smoldering in overwhelming desire for the child who sat on his haunches between her open thighs.
"Ooohhhh cripes, Mrs. Jackson," she heard him groan. "I sure do want to fuck you again!" Shirley stiffened at the sound of the fourteen year old's obscenity, and yet his very lewdness only excited her more. She could feel a warm moisture seeping from the swollen pink lips of her exposed vaginal slit, and she tried to squeeze her legs together to ease the tantalizing sensations licking out of control through her naked loins. She brushed her inner thighs against the boy's slender sides, the very touch of his warm body making her tremble with renewed passion.
"What's happened to me?" she moaned incoherently. "Oh Lord, what's happened to me?" She felt her nakedness as a great shame covering her like an immoral cloak, one that could not be dislodged no matter how hard she tried. But soon she knew it would be replaced by something too sublime to resist - Larry's naked young flesh as he once more penetrated her vagina with his hardened virile cock. The fiery need for the boy who was hovering over her seethed through her heaving belly, and her head fell limply back onto the soft leather cushions, her breath deepening from her shameful surrender.
"Can I fuck you, Mrs. Jackson?" Larry plaintively asked. "Can I now?"
"Ohhhhhhhh Lord, yes! Yes, fuck me, you little darling!" the older woman groaned mindlessly. She was a slave to the drug-induced surges of forbidden lust that were making her ache to have this delectible child inside of her cunt once again. Her response to his tender, uncalloused hands as he suddenly smoothed them over her waiting , naked flesh with adolescent eagerness was explosive! Unknown to her, the aphrodisiac Spanish Fly had now taken complete control of her every nerve in her love-starved body!
An electrifying series of violent shocks seared through the mature teacher like a thousand tiny devils stabbing with wicked pitchforks. The gleefully tormenting demons prodded with needle-like tauntings along the inner moistness of her thighs, causing her to jerk her legs further outwards on either side of the boy, and involuntarily grind her writhing buttocks deeper into the cushions. Searing hot flames licked mercilessly at her nakedness, but her anguished rotations were futile in the drugged inferno of her passion. She lay twisting and mewling from the youthfully touch of fingertips along her inner thighs and lower belly, her mind struggling hopelessly against the stabs of delicious sensations which were teasingly following the feverish course of the boy's exploring hands.
Larry played delightedly with his music teacher's naked flesh, as a young kitten might torment an older but helplessly trapped mouse.
He glanced up and winked at his brother and Kirby Murdoek, who were looking through the open crack in the kitchen door, his chest puffing with the power he had over his desperately twisting teacher on the couch. Then the boy placed his thumbs on both the fleshy outer lips of her vaginal crevice, slowly pulling them wide apart until all of her tightly clasped, hair-fringed pussy was exposed to his lusting view again.
"Now, Mrs. Jackson .. . ! I'm going to fuck you right now .. . !"
... And behind the kitchen door that was slightly ajar, Larry's older brother turned to his sixteen year old buddy and said: "You think we oughta go in there now, Kirby?"
Kirby, his face etched with an obscene grin as he concentrated on the sight of the naked music teacher and her youthful lover, whispered: "No . . . not yet, not yet! I wanna watch this awhile! I've never seen Mrs. Jackson nekkid and screwing before! It's too hot to break up right now!"
"Sure, I guess you're right," Frank admitted, turning back to the depraved sight only a few feet away. "Besides, I guess Larry's sort of earned his turn with her. After we get started, he won't get a stroke in edgewise!"
But still the perverted teenager could feel a slight twinge of jealousy overcoming him as he studied the older woman's face and saw the unmistakable signs of sexual ferment. Damn, she liked Larry fucking her, and that was that! He leaned closer, edging the door open so he wouldn't miss any of this, partially contented in knowing that soon those long slim legs of Mrs. Jackson's would be wrapped tight around him as he shoved his own hard cock into her belly. By God, he'd fuck her within an inch of her life; he'd show her what a piece of ass was! She'd forget his brother and every other stud she'd ever known when he got finished with her! He could feel his own penis stiffening just at the idea as he crouched in the doorway and stared at the two naked bodies struggling on the couch across the playroom. Small beads of sweat began to form on his brow from the excitement he always felt when he watched a girl getting fucked by another kid ... especially this time when the girl was a thirty-two year old woman!