Chapter 4
Ken met her at the door. She had dressed, pulled her wet hair back in a pony tail, securing it with a rubber band, and looked anxious. It had taken her a long time to come and he had just about given up hope when he had heard the soft clomp of the chestnut's hooves on the soft earth.
They stood together for over fifteen minutes in front of the shack, and surprisingly enough, fell into easy conversation. By the time he held the door open for her, they had both relaxed into a mutual trust of each other and had gone so far as to sketchily reveal their backgrounds.
Once inside, it took Laurie's eyes a moment to adjust to the dark interior of the room. As Ken bustled about, opening a bottle of wine she had agreed to share and setting up cups, she had an opportunity to observe her surroundings. There was a lumpy mattress in one corner of the room; one straight-backed chair in front of a fairly large hand-made table; and on the wall over a Coleman stove, she saw a small variety of cooking utensils and a lantern hanging from pegs. A feeling of momentary sympathy came over her as she realized how terribly little the man had to his name. Aside from what she had first seen, there were only a few books and an ancient typewriter, an extra pair of trousers, several shirts, a rucksack and an axe, all either on or stacked next to the table.
"As you can see, Laurie, I live simply. I don't need much out here . . . But here," he said, crossing to the table and picking up a thick sheaf of papers. "This is the story I was telling you about."
She accepted one of the cups filled three-quarters full with a deep red wine. Sipping it, she moved to the table and, still standing, began to scan the pages of Ken Chester's novel. It seemed to be well written, she thought to herself, but she was having a difficult time concentrating on the theme he was expanding in the opening chapter. Instead, her mind kept wandering, picturing over and over again the frightening but oddly stimulating spectacle of the tall blond man's huge erect penis, how he had slid his hand up and down its awesome throbbing length while he had sat on the rock above her, watching her and eagerly devouring her nakedness. So that was what men did when they were alone and not actually in bed with their wives or girl friends . . . It wasn't as if she didn't know about sexual intercourse . . . it was just. . . well there hadn't been much time to experience it. There was last night in the motel and that one time, last summer when Uncle Ned had taken her aside to explain some of the particulars about sex between wives and husbands, boys and girls. He had even allowed her to witness a number of mating sessions between the prize studs and brood mares on the ranch.
She remembered how violent and dramatic those matings had seemed to her. Her mind could hardly accept that the mares were able to accommodate the gigantic pole-like penises of the stallions, and she had pleaded with her uncle to stop everything, lest the mares be torn apart and ripped inside. Ned Dow had merely laughed, though, and said that when she was old enough, she would understand that females, whether humans or horses, enjoyed mating just as intensely as males.
"Hey, what's the matter? Is my novel so thought-provoking that you can't get past the third page?" She was startled to hear Ken's voice at her shoulder, coming from less than a foot away. He was clad in only a faded blue swim suit and his nearness sent an unsettling chill of sensation up her spine.
"Oh no, I mean yes! It's very interesting," she lied, her eyes quickly searching the page for something to talk about. "I was just wondering what this word means." She stabbed the page with her finger, indicating a word in one of the last few sentences.
"Let's see," he said, taking a step forward until his bare chest brushed against her shoulder, his right arm slipping casually around her small girlish waist to rest on her hip. She was too terrified to move, to even speak, and stood rooted hopelessly to the floor as though her riding boots had been nailed to the spot. Never in her entire life had she been this close to a strange man especially not when he was all but naked and they were alone miles from the ranch. Her upper Up began trembling against her will, and she watched with horror as he moved even closer and placed his finger next to hers on the typewritten page, gently nudging her unsteady hand aside as he spoke:
"Oh, that one . . . The word is concupiscent. It's a Latin word. It means unbridled sexual desire. You don't know much about sex, do you?" he asked, confidently tightening his hold on her willowy waist and pressing his spread hand a little more firmly against her sinuously curving hip. She could feel his warm breath quickening, playing lightly on her cheek and along the graceful line of her throat. Then, without warning, a frightened shudder seized her as she sensed a subtle jerking movement high on her hip, just about where his loins, with slowly increasing pressure, touched her side.
"No, no I don't," she muttered shakily, aware that he was cautiously inching his body up close behind her. As he moved, sliding his arm around her narrow waist, his hand rubbed softly in a suggestive circular motion. Then his other hand that had been on her trembling hip began to move the same way, until both of his hands were palm-flat on her quivering belly, just below the swell of her lush young breasts. What on earth could she do, she wondered frantically, realizing that he was powerful and could abort any attempt on her part to break away and run. And yet, in the midst of her panic she sensed a tenderness and understanding in him . . . even though it was obvious that he was more interested in her young teenage body at the moment than anything else.
She gave a little cry when at last his hands touched the bottom-most fullness of her hugely set breasts, and protesting, she strained forward against the edge of the table. This seemed to suit him, though, for he grinned and pushed his muscular body more firmly against her twisting back, the table preventing her from moving out away from him. Suddenly his hands reached up to fully cup her jutting breasts, squeezing and kneading them like delicious dough under her flimsy cotton shirt. Laurie could feel the stranger's long thick penis swelling and growing, steadily climbing like a hardening rod halfway up her back, the huge base of it grinding into her just above the crevice of her smooth young buttocks. An unknown mixture of terror and something electric, almost like pleasure, raced through every fiber of her virginal young body. She must escape she must break free and ride
Sniffy like the wind out of that canyon. And never come back!
As she writhed, pinioned ever more defenselessly between the cruel table edge and Ken Chester's lust-inflamed body, she caught a brief glimpse of the swim suit that had girdled his hips. It was in a heap on the floor next to her feet, and she knew with a fresh rush of panic that now he was completely naked. Only her own clothing separated their naked flesh! The realization sent a flurry of intensely lewd thrills racing over every inch of her goose-bumping skin, but she fought them with her mind as savagely as though she were using her thoughts like clubs. Her responsive young body was betraying her, weakening her, making her feel the new lascivious sensations that she knew were wrong, evil, and certainly dangerous.
"Oh, please, please, Mr. Chester, let me go!" she finally wailed. "I'm afraid! You mustn't do this! It's. . .it's not right!"
"What are you afraid of.. . being turned on?" he taunted, his hot breath now coming in short panting blasts as he slipped both hands under her clinging shirt and roughly jerked her brassiere up over the soft heaving mounds of her breasts. His fingers found the already hardening nipples and plucked at them, rolling and pinching them as he held her fast with his forearms clamped securely against her ribs. She felt the tiny nipple-buds tingle and leap to even greater hardness as sharp darts of pleasure and pain shot along her violently quivering nerves. Her breasts cupped in his hands, pulsed in time with her heartbeat, and she remembered anew that he was completely naked, his rigidly throbbing cock pressing against her back like a column of solid iron. Oh my God, she thought, it was almost impossible not to let go and submit to the shameful fondling of her love-starved body. Never, in all her sixteen innocent years, had she experienced such an overpowering temptation to be truly evil for the sake of pleasure.
As though he had been reading her thoughts, Ken dropped one hand from her nakedly swaying breast and with the speed and efficiency of an expert, hiked the back of her shirt up to her shoulder blades, quickly pushing forward again to grind the scorching hot length of his cock into the helpless softness of her tensing back. He did not at once return his free hand to her breast, but worked it between their struggling bodies to pull at the hooks of the now exposed brassiere strap. When he succeeded in loosening the skimpy white brassiere, she gasped aloud as she felt his hand yank the partially unbuttoned shirt and brassiere off her shoulder, then bend back her arm so that they could be slipped down to her elbow. The remaining buttons on the bottom of her shirt gave, popping off, and she struggled with all her dwindling strength as he pulled the sleeve and shoulder strap over the crook of her arm and finally from the clenched ball of her fist. Suddenly he made a half step back and, with one swift movement, stripped the hanging shirt and brassiere from her other arm, tearing from her lushly formed body the last vestige of modesty.
She stood there quaking, a sob rising to her throat, as she heard him step back even farther. An admiring glint was in his eyes as he examined the half-naked young girl's beautiful back, her thick red hair gently cascading over her shoulders.
"All right, Laurie, turn around," he ordered quietly, an unexpected calmness in his deep masculine voice. His tone caught her off balance and she obediently followed his command, her head down so that their eyes would not meet. Ken's eyes drank hungrily from the sensual perfection of the voluptuous form before him. She was even more lovely up close, her adolescent breasts prematurely full and succulent, the dark pink nipples unusually large.
Jesus, he wanted to fuck her, right then and there, and take his fill of her never-before-touched charms. And he was certain he could, too, since she was slowly beginning to respond with the unmistakable passion of a highly sexed female. But she was young and had to be handled intelligently, and not like some full-blown slut. Another day or two, he decided, and she would be coming to him voluntarily for the bliss of her deflowering.
Waves of confusion, and even a tinge of disappointment, swarmed through Laurie's brain. In one way, the feeling that he was no longer attacking her was comparable to being rejected, and this was even more humiliating than what she had just been through while pinned against the table. What was wrong with her, she wondered, stooping automatically to retrieve her clothes from the floor while she had the chance. Yet she did not dress right away and continued to stand there, regarding Ken Chester's magnificent male body with a look of near regret in her eyes. She saw that his heavily-veined penis was now only semi-hard, jutting out and slightly downward to one side.
"I don't understand what happened today," she breathed, leaning forward to drop the swollen softness of her breasts into the brassiere cups. Reaching behind her, she fastened the hooks but did not move to don her shirt. Somehow it seemed ridiculous to cling so tightly to her modesty now. Twice today, he had seen her breasts once, all of her, though from a distance and moments before he had feverishly caressed her struggling body. And even though she had been terrified within an inch of her life, she could hardly deny that his passionately invading hands had set her impressionable girlish nerves afire with the beginnings of what she guessed would have ultimately been the purest ecstasy. And there still burned in her rocking brain the memory of his stiffened rod of male flesh, those sperm-bloated testicles hanging heavily beneath it a memory she would not soon forget. Still, unaccountably, she experienced the sting of rejection, the sense of fear that in his eyes she was not really desirable.
"Listen, Laurie," he began, as though once again interpreting her thoughts, "I want you to know how fond I am of you. You're truly a gorgeous girl practically a woman, except for the fact that no woman is still a virgin and I respect you enough not to force you to . . . to be a real woman." His last words were delivered as he walked around her to pick up a pair of sun-bleached jeans from the small stack of clothes on the floor next to the table. As if to shield her eyes from the sight of his nakedly exposed penis, he turned away from her to thread his feet through the trouser-legs, at last facing her again when he had finished dressing.
"I like you too, Mr. Chester.. . Ken," she blurted, not fully comprehending the words she spoke. Blushing, she added: "But why can't a virgin be a woman, a real woman? I already think of myself as a woman . . . a young woman, yes, but a woman."
"Being a woman isn't just a matter of age or attitude," he explained with an air of patient sagacity. "It takes a man, after all is said and done, to make a woman. Remember that.. . But I think you'd better be starting home now. I hear the wind rising, and that could mean that there's another storm."
"Okay, Ken, my uncle will be worrying about me anyway." She took up her shirt and hastily got into it, not bothering to tuck the tails into her jeans. She wanted only to get away, to think over what had happened, and yet she was also inexplicably reluctant to leave without being certain of his real attitude toward her, woman or not. She bestowed upon him the trace of a smile as she moved toward the door, but he closed the distance between them with two long strides, snaking his brawny arms around her and drawing her tenderly to his chest. Laurie sighed and arched her back to receive the poignant, lingering kiss he placed directly on her lush moist lips.
"I'll be seeing you," he called to her as she mounted Sniffy and pivot-reined him around to face the canyon exit. Although she neither confirmed nor objected to his assumption that she would return, there was a thoughtful smile on her face as she rode out of sight of the line-shack.