When Harl left, Brenda automatically walked him to the door like a good hostess before she remembered that she wore nothing except the twisted garter belt and stockings. She darted back into the vestibule with a little gasp as she heard another tenant in the hallway.
Harl laughed. "Nothing would surprise the people who live in here. They're too used to Ginny."
The name struck terror in her heart and seemed to echo in the silence like the eerie whine of a demon in a nightmare. Ginny… Ginny… Ginny… where are you?
He grabbed her roughly and cupped her buttocks as he pressed her against the wall with his body, rubbing his crotch into her naked groin.
"We groove, don't we?" he whispered. "I never balled with anybody like that. God, you're a good piece of ass. I'll see you soon again, humm?"
"Yes…" Her voice was low and uncertain for a moment, then she saw, over his shoulder, the tumbled bed and its leopard-skin spread heaped like a torpid animal in a corner. The apartment… Ginny's apartment, but now hers. The thought filled her with a desperate, insatiable need for sex. Suddenly she was excited again, hot and starting to feel the slow, delicious throbs in her cunt. She ground her pelvis against Harl and stretched up against him until her moist pussy found the shape of his cock in his pants.
"Yes! Come back to me, make love to me again and again."
She was ashamed the moment she spoke. That wasn't the sort of thing you were supposed to say to a man! A girl should pretend to be disinterested, undecided. She should have said, "Oh, maybe. I don't know. Let's see… we'll see… we'll see."
But she had said none of that. She had begged him eagerly, like any pushover! No matter how much you wanted to get laid, you always pretended that you didn't. That was the definition of a nice girl to Brenda's mind. But she was mindless now as she ground her cunt against Harl's hips. There was no mind, no Brenda; nothing except the spell of the girl who used to live in the apartment. Fright invaded her passion as she felt herself floating off, as though her consciousness were drifting into another world, leaving nothing but a hot vacuum demanding to be filled.
She had to have it again! Oh, God, he's got to fuck me again!
"Hey, baby… wow, you really want it, don't you?"
She heard the trace of uncertainty in his voice. Suppose he couldn't? How many times had they screwed?
"Come here, down on the rug," he whispered hoarsely. He pulled her onto the shag rug in the vestibule, his hand seeking her parted thighs. Yes, that was good! He was going to fuck her with those long, hard fingers…
His thumb teased open her dewy cunt lips and trailed up and down through the burning folds of pink flesh. Brenda spread her legs as far out as they would go, until a cramping pain knotted the muscles at her hips. As his thumb revolved over her clitoris his fingers played lazily over her up-turned cheeks, grazing the soft skin and dipping into her crack to tickle her asshole. It was maddening! For a moment she could not tell the difference between his light touch and the feathery caress of the shaggy rug under her wiggling ass.
He was grinning at her, as though deliberately trying to torture her. She cried out in impatient pleading and lifted her legs high, until her knees were over her breasts. This would be her own private party; all she had to do was lie back and enjoy it.
"Fuck me! Hurry, hurry, hurry! Do it! Put it in!"
As his forefinger slipped into her cunt she gasped and bore down on it, eager to grasp it tightly and feel it probe deep within her. Suddenly he thrust it in hard, striking the soft neck of her womb. He wriggled it around far up at the end of her cunt until she shivered and pumped against it. The grin faded from Harl's face as his arm began a pistonlike movement; his mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed into slits as he watched her face while she received the onslaught.
"How much do you want?" he growled, panting from his effort.
"More… a lot more. Ooooooh, that feels so good! Use more…ahhh! Yesohyesyes! Mmmmmmm!"
"Three?" he challenged.
"Yes… oh, God! I can feel it so gooood! I – OHHHHH!"
Her harsh moan split the air as he shoved three tightly clasped fingers into her pussy until they would go no farther. The entrance of her cunt burned and ached with pain and pleasure as the sore muscles stretched and opened wider to take it an.
His teeth clenched in determined concentration, Harl's arm moved from the shoulder in violent pummeling thrusts, his fingers buried in hot, throbbing cunt and the base of his hand slamming against her widespread pussy lips that had changed from coral pink to fiery red.
"God, your cunt can really take a beating, can't it? You like that? Want me to stop?"
"No! Don't stop! I'm… almost there!Oooooohhhhhhmmmmm! I'm cuming!"
The inside of her cunt stretched wide, its walls growing rigid in that split second before she went over the top. Then everything was soft and wet and palpitating again as a violent pulse swept her up into a screaming, crying ecstasy of climax.
She looked up at him in triumph. His face was red, his chest heaving with excitement. He pulled his fingers from her cunt and cupped her sore pussy in his palm, pressing it into her body as she winced in pain.
"No more, please no more! I can't stand it… It's so sore." She laughed weakly, a mewing sound, and pushed his hand away. Any contact now with her clitoris felt like contact with a live wire. She shivered almost convulsively.
"Don't, darling," she murmured. "When you touch it right after I've come it's unbearable."
"No fair. Now I'm hot again."
He unzipped his pants and pulled them down on his hips as he crawled between her legs. His cock rose up, stiff and swollen and threatening. Brenda looked at the dark red skin ridged with tiny veins. She couldn't take it again! But he was on top of her, pinning her hands back behind her head while his other hand shoved his giant cock into her sore pussy.
"Oooooh, don't! Oh, it's burning, don't."
"I want another piece, sweetheart. It's limbered up now so you can give me a real snappy fuck. My back hurts so I'm going to let you do all the work. Milk me… come on, milk me dry."
It felt like a searing rod inside her, ripping through the tender flesh of her cunt like a knife. He pushed it all the way in until it pressed cruelly against her cervix, then he lay heavily against her, stretching out and smiling lazily into her eyes.
"Now, snap," he ordered. "Caress it real nice. Use your thighs and your ass and your belly. You don't have to work hard if you work right."
His words excited her suddenly, making her remember the two dogs she had seen once as a little girl. They didn't move at all; they seemed clamped together, immobile, until you saw the rolling muscles of the bitch's haunches.
Brenda tightened her thighs around Harl's outspread legs and clenched her whole lower torso into a vise of hot flesh. An answering flutter began in her belly and scurried deliciously through her body. Harl stiffened, his hands tightening on her crossed wrists.
"That's it, sweetheart, I'm reading you," he murmured.
She could do it! It had always been only a secret wish, something you giggled about with other girls, pretending that it was a big joke, all the while you were dying to be able to do it to a man. Before, it seemed to her to be something that only whores could or should do, but now she gloried in the grasping hungry convulsions of her body.
"Now it deserves to be called a snatch," Harl said, straining into her.
The cloven lips of her pussy squeezed around the base of his long cock as the muscles of her thighs rolled against his naked legs. It became automatic now, and she no longer had to think about doing it. Her vagina fluttered faster and faster around the big dick that was crammed into it, sucking it off like an expert mouth.
Harl was moaning, his eyes closed in ecstasy and his hips beginning to pump up and down as she drained him of the cum that spurted from his imprisoned cock. He grimaced, shuddering. She heard the sound of his teeth, and then he was still and heavy on top of her.
He sighed raggedly, close to her ear. "Jesus… my nuts ache like a sore tooth."
After a moment he flattened his palms on the floor and rose slowly to his knees.
"You got it all that time. Bone dry, if you'll pardon the expression."
He stood up and zipped his pants, pressed a hand into the small of his back and rubbed, shaking his head.
"I'll drop by again," he grinned. "When do you start work – Monday?"
She nodded, moving once again with automatic courtesy to the door. Always see your guests out… She felt detached, as though she were two women; one a little girl back home listening to her mother, and the other a near-naked wanton who had done a whore's job on the floor. She deliberately turned and walked back to the living room as he let himself out and closed the door behind him. The instinct to walk to the door was as strong as her animal instinct to screw him had been at the moment he first walked in.
She walked to the mirror and looked at herself in silent wonder. Tousled hair, flushed face, thighs glistening with his cum and her own. Whore… whore in a garter belt. If only she were naked! But no, she was worse than naked with this black twisted snake slung around her hips. There was something vile about a black garter belt, no matter how much pretty lace was sewn on it, no matter how many satin rosebuds dotted its diaphanous material. Girls in peep shows, girls in dirty magazines – all wore garter belts, black stockings and high heels. The trademarks of a whore.
She cried out in panic as she saw the girl in the poster in the mirror's reflection. It was as if the silent smiling temptress were standing over her shoulder. She whirled and stared directly at it, blinking dizzily.
Had the lips quirked in that mocking smile? Had the eyes narrowed a little since the last time she looked at it? When had that been? When she was on the mattress with Harl, the first time. She had looked over his shoulder and thought she saw the eyes in the poster following her.
"Ginny," she whispered, gazing at the windswept swirls of green hair. Suddenly she knew that the girl in the poster was Ginny. Somehow, somewhere; Ginny had posed for the lithograph. It was her face, her cruel, mocking eyes, her innocent yet depraved rosebud mouth. It was Ginny, and she was laughing at her!
"No, it can't be!" she whispered. Her voice was a papery rasp in the room. "I'm being silly."
Humiliation flooded her and demanded purification. A bath… she would take a bath and wash the sperm off her legs, the smell of male sweat from her skin. Suddenly it smelled hideous to her, clinging to her like grave clothes.
She ran into the bathroom, fumbling for the unfamiliar locations of light switch and faucets as she ran a hot tub. She tore off the garter belt, ripping the stockings as she yanked them down her legs, not bothering to unhook them. She threw the obscene harness into a corner and stood completely naked, shielding herself with her arms and moving one thigh across her golden-haired crotch.
Hunched and starting to cry, she asked herself why. Why had she done such a thing? It wasn't like her! Oh, sure, she got horny sometimes – what girl didn't? She had done something about it, too, as most girls did nowadays. But there had been certain old-fashioned rules just the same, like knowing a man for a little while at least, before you balled with him. She had even higher standards; she had to be "going with" someone. As for Jim, they were engaged. He never took her to bed without telling her how much he respected her! Sometimes she hated him for that – it was no time to talk about respecting a woman! But now, she felt devoid of self-respect when she thought about Harl. Engaged to another man and she had romped on the floor with a casual neighbor – all because he had a big prick that poked up through his pants and made her hot for him.
She got into the steaming tub, recoiling at the hot water but forcing herself in a kind of punishment to sit down in it. The vapor rose around her head and her breath grew short until she felt that she would faint. Sweat poured down her face and her heart pounded in protest. She would die here… die in the tub. Faint from the seering heat and then sink down… down… down.
She put her head back on the edge of the tub and rubbed her neck tiredly to and fro on the cool, curved porcelain. The bathroom was bare, stripped of any sign of occupancy. Nothing of her own was in it yet except three new but cheap white towels she had picked up at the dime store, until her family sent her trunk to the new address. No perfume bottles, no scattering of rollers and pins, no dusting powder spilled on the floor. Nothing to show that Brenda Taylor lived here, that this was her bathroom.
Nothing but white tile…
Suddenly she thought of a morgue, of the room where they do all the awful but necessary things, the room with a drain in the middle of the cement floor.
Her mind throbbed with a hideous chant: Brenda doesn't live here… Brenda doesn't live here… Brenda doesn't live here!
She sank lower in the tub until the water touched her face, unable to stop herself from the necessary immersion of her shame. Jim. What would Jim say if he knew? Good old Jim – every mother's dream of a "good man" to marry off her daughter to. Brenda had grown sick of listening to her mother's paeans of praise to his good job, steady habits good prospects for future success. Sandy-haired and square-jawed, he belonged on a recruiting poster. So decent and straight-laced that he always apologized whenever he got hot. I'm sorry, Bren, but I'm only human.
Good, good, good! It had gotten so that the word seemed like part of his name. No one ever seemed to speak of him without adding "good" somewhere along the line. But there were some things he was not very good at, she recalled.
He got hot, that she would say for him. God, how he got hot! When she sat in his lap it was never long before he started to squirm and grow red. Soon she enjoyed tormenting and teasing him, wriggling around until her rump came in contact with his stiffly rising prick. She pretended not to know what was wrong, and he believed her! "Honey, things happen to a guy when a girl sits in his lap. I-I can feel the whole shape of you… down there. It feels damn good, too. I'm only human, honey."
She simulated wide-eyed innocence. "I'll sit harder on it and mash it down. Then it'll go away," she suggested.
"Sweetheart, it-it doesn't work that way," he laughed weakly.
One night he couldn't stand it any longer and pulled her on top of him, jiggling his hips and thrusting his imprisoned cock against her crotch. Her legs opened over his lap until her skirt split a little in the seam as she bore harder against the thick ramming rod in his pants. She could feel it swell and stretch as he got hotter for her. She groaned and yanked at her skirt until it was around her waist, leaving nothing but the transparent layer of her pantyhose between her swelling pussy and his cock. It felt as though she were straddling an iron banister. The delicious feel of such rocklike power against her tender cunt lips made her forget everything, all the games and ploys, all the secretly amusing, teasing jokes she played on him.
He thrust his hand between her legs and rubbed his fingers over the wetness that had soaked through her hose. "God," he whispered, unable to believe the slick evidence of her heat, "God, honey… you're excited, aren't you?" Clumsily, he fumbled with the elastic waistband of the hose and ran his hand down the front, against her smooth, throbbing belly, then going lower until his fingers laced through the bush of kinky crotch hair.
He went wild then as he felt it, as though he couldn't believe that anyone so pure and sweet had hair on her pussy. He peeled the hose down her thighs and separated her hot engorged lips, running his finger up and down the slippery folds, rubbing the wet outer edges until she began to move against him and whisper panting instructions against his ear.
"Up top, where the little bud is, rub it there… Easy, easy, just real light… Oh, yes, yes, yes."
She lay back against him, her legs spread out over his knees and her bare ass squirming against the rough material of his tweed pants. His cock was sticking into her buttocks with a probing insistence that made her long for still another sensation – a new, strange sensation that she had never allowed herself to feel. Jim was always talking about her virginity, how he wanted to save it for their wedding night, how he respected her wish to keep it until then… Could she do something else with him? Something that had nothing to do with her cunt that he thought was cherry? The new sensations were undeniable now; his prick poked through his pants and rubbed over the crack that separated her fun white orbs. She felt rough, tickling suit material against the tight rim of her asshole. The virgin hole fluttered with excitement and a maddening itch of yearning that she had not known was possible.
Would he do it, or would he be hopelessly shocked? There was a way to get him around to it…
"Jim! Stop… I-I can't stand it. We'll do something we'll be sorry for." She pulled herself up from his lap, her cunt throbbing and dripping with excitement. Her thighs were glistening with lubrication and she saw that his pants were wet from her.
"This isn't fair, darling," she whispered. "You're not getting anything, it's all for me."
His face was florid and sweating. "Honey, let me… do something else. I-I won't make you go all the way. I know what it means to you to be a virgin when we get married, but-but there's something else that we can do."
The fool! How could he be so dumb? How could he go with her for two years and still not know anything about her, or about women in general?
"What can we do?" she asked innocently.
"It won't hurt you, I promise. I'll be gentle. Just let me… put it in you here," he rasped, reaching around to touch her plump white cheeks. His fingers dipped into the crescent-shaped valley and palpitated her rectal rim. She gasped with pleasure at the touch and squeezed her buttocks instinctively around his fingertip.
She had to play along with his Puritanism.
"Oh, that's unnatural!" she wailed.
"No, it's not, really honey, it's something that everybody enjoys. There's feeling there, too. Anything a man and woman who love each other do is natural."
He had read that, she knew, in a book he had bought for them. His voice was rote, like a child reciting an obligatory poem. She knew he did not mean it but she did not care. He would convince himself that everything was all right. Somehow, he would put it through the wringer of his middle-class mind and make it acceptable to himself.
"All right," she assented, remembering to dip her head in a convincing expression of reluctant obedience.
His mild blue eyes widened and lighted with happy astonishment. He lowered her to the rug in front of the fireplace and crawled up behind her as she lay on her stomach, wriggling against the rough nap under her naked pelvis. She heard a zipper, then felt his panting breath hot against her neck as he loomed over her. He had not undressed, even though they had the house to themselves. It would make it official to his mind if they were both naked; that would mean they had gone all the way.
He knelt behind her on all fours. Brenda felt his blood-filled cock brush the back of her thighs. God, it was big! She had to give him credit for that. She moaned as the smooth round head prodded her skin like a powerful fist.
"I'll get you wet so it won't hurt, baby," he soothed. God damn him! She wanted a cock up her ass and she wanted it fast! It would be better if it hurt a little. Something dark and thrilling pounded through her brain as she realized that she wanted the pain.
His finger swabbed into her pouting cunt lips and drew their sex fluid back into the fuzzy slit of her ass until there was a slick puddle of juice over her rectum. The fingering drove her into impatient wigglings. She could feel the rim palpitating with desire as the tight cavern demanded fulfillment.
Jim pulled her billowing cheeks apart and knelt closer. "Put your hips in the air, way up, that's it. Relax, darling, re…"
His voice broke off and changed into a low animal growl as the tip of his cock pressed against the tight, suckling hole that she offered him. The monstrous head felt like a round hot ball of lead going into her ass. A dry, burning pain wrenched through her stomach as he thrust hard against the puckered opening. Brenda bucked forward, grunting in agony. But then something happened. It was as if the jagged knife of pain had melted inside her and transformed into a flowering branch of ecstasy. His cock heaved and thrashed inside her pinched, maidenly rectum, pushing its walls open and rubbing them with voluptuous friction. She shrieked in delight and slammed back against his invading rod. She had a belly full of cock, all that she could ever want. It felt as if it were coming up through her throat!
"Uummmmmmmm! Oh, fuck my ass, fuck it hard!"
He was all the way in her, his coarse puff of hair scratching her soft rump like a bramble bush. She was going to get it, better than she had ever cum before! His mouth, burning and wet, sank into her shoulder and she felt his teeth.
Then she felt something else, and she knew the party was over. His hot spurt filled her rectum like acid, powerful and copious, streaming thickly through her tight cavern and dripping out until their slamming bodies were slick with creamy cum.
He toppled heavily on her, growing soft within her until his cock became spongy and useless in a matter of seconds. She wanted to scream and curse in frustration, strike him and kick him. For a moment she loathed him with every ounce of strength in her.
He scampered up, zipping his pants like a fireman and looking furtively around the room as though it were full of invisible inquisitors. He knelt down beside her and smoothed her hair from her forehead.
"Brenda… darling. I…" He swallowed painfully, his eyes hollow and full of remorse.
"Forgive me, Brenda? I don't know what came over me… It was a terrible thing to make you do. I just wanted you so much, but I was afraid – I mean I knew that you were a virgin so…"
He gave her no choice but to play along. She was sick of his guilt-ridden minuets! Her body ached with unfulfilled desire and every nerve screamed out for more fucking! She wanted to grab the fire tongs and clout him with them until his head looked like a smashed egg.
He helped her up like a boy scout salvaging an old woman splayed in the snow, then turned around, embarrassed, while she pulled the pantyhose up over her hips.
"I swear I'll never make you do that again," he mumbled, unable to face her.
He was true to his word. Her contempt grew as her longing for satisfaction tormented her. She wanted to do it again! For a week or so afterwards he hardly touched her, then as his guilt receded somewhat he began his old make-do dry screws. It became a challenge to her to get him to take her to bed. He did, but it wasn't quite what she had in mind. He put his cock everywhere except the two places she wanted it to be. He came as soon as he touched her; between her tightly pressed thighs, on her stomach, between her breasts. Afterwards, he always said, "I respect you, honey. I want it to be right between us."
She could hardly keep from screaming at him, "Let's get something straight between us!"
Not long after that she decided to delay their marriage while she worked for a year in New York. At first Jim didn't take it too well; he even offered to come with her to New York and get a job there himself so they could be married right away. She stood her ground, insisting upon going it alone. Deep down, she knew that she wanted something forbidden and evil, that she had to escape from Jim's cloying goodness. But just what it was that she wanted she did not know.
The bathtub water had cooled somewhat, so that it was bearable now. Brenda began to feel better. Her body was a bright lobster pink from the burning inundation but her weak trembling had stopped. Gradually, her heart ceased its slow thudding and the sweat dried on her face. That must be what hell is like, she thought. I've been in hell's river… What is it called? The river Styx, that runs through hell, bubbling with searing brine.
It had been a kind of baptism and now she felt shriven of the sins she had committed on the floor with Harl. It didn't seem so bad now. She had come to New York for just a year, and she ought to make the most of it. It would be a last fling for her, before she got married, and every woman deserved a last fling. Most of them don't get one, she thought darkly, remembering the plump, self-satisfied wives who spent their energies on clubs full of other women. She wouldn't be like that; Jim would not make a skittish clubwoman out of her. She would have her "year" in New York, like a debutante, and then she would settle down. It would be her secret, something to warm her bones when she got middle-aged and housebound.
She washed herself with a cake of perfumed soap, feeling seductive and lethargic, her body heavy with satisfied desire. She lay back and soaked for a while, watching the wet strands of her cunt hair float near the surface of the water. How different it looked when it was wet, much longer and not kinky anymore. She touched the trailing tendrils and watched the hairs make patterned swirls in the soapy water.
Suddenly her body stiffened and she sat up, trembling. Now, instead of the intense heat, she felt cold. Crawlingly, malevolently cold. The hairs reminded her of the twining, swirling mass of forest hair in the poster.
She jumped up quickly and stepped out of the tub, reaching for one of the new white towels. She dried herself with shaking hands, her mind warding off the wailing terror that she felt with a kaleidoscope of fragmented plans. She had to get out… see the neighborhood… buy some cologne and some dusting powder. She needed some toothpaste, yes, she was sure of it. And she really ought to have some Cokes or something. I'll go out… I'll enjoy that. Yes, I'll go out.
When she was dressed she hurried out the door, turning her head so that she did not see the vixenish face in the poster.