"You've got your keys, haven't you, Beck?" Marjie suddenly asked as the two girls walked along the street en route to the house where the party would be held. "I came back to get mine, and would you believe, 1 forgot them?"
Becky wasn't paying much attention. Her eyes kept stealing down her front to gaze at the tantalizing exposure of her nipples. She wondered if the guys at the party would think she was just a slut for showing herself off. And she was once more afraid. Even though she knew that in her own eyes she was truly lovely, she wondered if the people at the party would think she was funny-looking. How had she let Marjie talk her into going? It was all because of the weakness of her mind, of her inhibitions, all the result of that incredible moment in which she had first let her finger slide into her young pussy and discovered the joys of which it was capable.
It was dark by now, and the streets of town were full of young college students celebrating their return to campus. Becky's spirits jumped considerably as she realized that guys were actually staring at her and Marjie when they strode past. Her chin lifted, and she drew her shoulders back, raising the angle of her breasts under the thin fabric of the jumpsuit top. She had once dreamed that perhaps going to college might mean the start of a whole new life for her, but now she was beginning to think her dream might indeed come true.
The walk was a long one, but Becky was in splendid condition and it didn't leave her panting the way it did her plump roommate. Marjie stopped to catch her breath at the near end of the block the party was on, and she spoke to Becky.
"Listen to me, doll," she said, "and listen close. Okay, I dragged you out of the dorm and made you come with me tonight. I did it because I thought you needed to kill that inferiority complex those assholes back in your home town stuck you with. But understand this before you go in. These kids are with it, and they may seem kinda wild to you. There'll be dope and booze and probably kids going upstairs to ball every now and then. But they're not animals. Nobody is gonna make you do anything you don't wanta do. Anybody gives you a hard rush or a rough time, tell me and I'll make sure his ass gets thrown out. So have a good time tonight and"-she smiled-"let your conscience be your guide."
Marjie tapped on the door and it opened to them. Even before they had stepped onto the porch of the small rented house, Becky had been able to hear the music playing inside. It was loud rock, and the rhythms set her toes tapping.
"Come on in," said a tall guy with long hair. Becky realized suddenly that this was the boy she had seen Marjie with last night in the dorm room, and she tingled delightedly with wicked knowledge as she shook his hand. Marjie introduced him as Jerry.
The living room was lit by a dozen enormous candies set here and there, and it was, or at least seemed to be, full of bodies sprawled there, there and everywhere-on the couch, on the floor. When her eyes had grown accustomed to the dimness of the light, Becky saw that there were no more than perhaps fifteen people here.
She sniffed suddenly. There was a strange sweetish aroma in the air, intermixed with tobacco smoke and the scented candles. Her eyes drifted hither and thither. She could see now that people were clustered in small groups and that each group was passing a strange object back and forth among its members. They were smoking it, and it appeared to be a pipe, but it certainly didn't look like the old briar Ted's father used to favor. Angrily she dismissed Ted and his father and everything else in Fayetteville from her mind.
Marjie and Jerry were walking across the floor to join one of the groups, and Becky, not knowing what else to do, followed them. She eased herself onto the floor beside Marjie, thankful inside that the light was too dim to reveal how visible her tits were in the borrowed outfit.
Marjie introduced her round the circle. There was Jerry, of course, and there was Sam, who shared the house with him. They were both juniors and had that romantic long-haired look so common on campuses today. And there was Jerry's cousin Bill, who was a freshman too, and with him a pretty girl with very long hair. Her name was Cathy and she had remarkable haunted eyes, deep-set in her head, that seemed as if they could bore a hole right through you when she stared your way. Cathy was a senior in the high school here in Henderson. That shocked Becky very much, even though she was only a year older herself. When she'd been a high school senior she'd never have dreamed of coming to a party like this where drugs were being used. Indeed, she very nearly hadn't come tonight at all.
Sam leaned across the circle and handed Becky the pipe. She looked at it wonderingly, touched the brass bowl and pulled her finger away very quickly. The metal was hot.
"I'll light it for you," Sam smiled. "You can have the first bit off this batch. It's our best."
Becky looked at him as he struck a match and lifted his hand to poise it above the pipe bowl. She looked at the pipe, noted the thin blades of marijuana in its loaded chamber. It hovered at her lips. The match was drawing nearer. Her eyes flickered to Marjie and the message she saw there seemed clear enough: Go ahead. It won't hurt you. Honest. So said her roomie's face. Becky put the pipe stem in her mouth. She knew that she had to puff on it to cause the flame to catch, so she puffed.
"No," Sam grinned. "Not like that. You gotta take a hit and suck it all the way into your belly." He took the pipe and toked heavily. "Like this," he said, speaking around the inhaled grass. His words were tight-throated and very soft.
"It's just like getting flicked," Cathy volunteered. "It's no good unless you've got it all the way in." She giggled and collapsed against Bill's arm. His hand cupped one of her large tits through her weather-beaten sweatshirt. She giggled again and rose with him. Her hand around his waist, his on her tit, they made their way up the stairs at the back of the room.
"Here," Sam was telling her. "You wanna try it again?"
Becky took the pipe. The puffs she had taken had really given her no idea what marijuana was like, beyond the taste on the tip of her tongue. She looked to Marjie for guidance.
A hand rested on Becky's soft shoulder. Marjie smiled and said, "If you wanna do it, go ahead. It won't kill you and it won't make you a hard mainlining junkie. But if you don't wanna do it, don't. It's your choice, Beck."
"Hasn't she ever smoked before?" she heard Jerry ask in a lowered voice, as if this were the strangest thing imaginable.
Becky made her decision. She put the pipe in her mouth again and sucked hard at the glowing load of grass, drew it into her mouth, deep into her lungs, all the way to the pit of her belly. She held it as long as she could, and when she released it almost no surplus smoke came from her lips.
"Good hit," Jerry said approvingly.
Becky tried to speak but her mouth was very, very dry. She made a croaking noise and Marjie spoke up quickly.
"She needs something to drink." Then to Becky, "It usually happens the first time or two you smoke. Nothing to worry about."
A glass materialized in front of Becky, containing a dark reddish liquid. She took it with thanks and drank a hearty swallow. It was sweet and tangy but she couldn't place the taste. "Ummm," she said. "This is good. What is it?"
"Boone's Farm," Sam said. Then, seeing that she didn't follow him, added, "Wine. Alcoholic soda pop, somebody called it."
So, she thought brazenly, tonight Becky Ryan turns into a real slut after all. Not only was she wearing a suit that exposed her nipples to anyone who cared to look, she had also taken her first puff of marijuana and her first drink of alcoholic beverage. Funny. She still felt the same Becky inside. A little daring, perhaps, but these people didn't seem to think anything of it. And, she thought with a start, what about those kids who went upstairs. I'll bet they're fucking each other. Right now!
The pipe had been smoked out and Becky was on her second glass of wine. Jerry and Marjie were nowhere to be seen, but Becky was much more interested in talking to Sam. He had such fascinating things to say. He was the first person she had ever met who thought President Nixon was unfit to hold office, and she listened with wide eyes to his explanations of why he held such opinions. And he knew all about music, too! He told her about groups she'd never heard of, singers who created beautiful songs that were unsung as far as she was concerned.
"Listen," he said. "There." A country singer was on the record player right now. He had a masculine baritone voice and an instrumental backup that was nearly as much folk as country and western. "That's the guy I mentioned," Sam explained. "Tom T. Hall. He can tell you more about life in two and a half minutes than any of the politicians in Washington or any preacher anywhere can in a year."
Becky listened to the song very carefully. Her parents had never cared for country music, and she had never been exposed to it. Now she was paying close attention to the lyrics, for the melody was little more than a vehicle for recitation. It was about a small-time country singer who has just come home for a short visit with his father, and in the course of the song she could see, plain as sudden lightning, how with a few deft images, Hall had laid bare the whole empty pattern of the young man's life. She knew as she listened that the singer he was writing about would never be any more than a small-time has-been (or never-was), breaking off ties with what had meant most to him at one time in pursuit of a success he could never find.
"That's really beautiful," she said thoughtfully when the song had ended. "I've never beard anything quite like that."
"Hall is really great," Sam agreed. "I don't agree with everything he has to say, but you can't get around his talent. Haven't you ever heard of him before?"
Becky shook her head. "Has he been around very long?"
"Six or seven years anyway. Hey, tell you what. If nobody's in my bedroom, come on up. I've got a little stereo up there, and most of my records, and I'll play you some more of his stuff. Okay?"
"I'd love to hear some more of his things," she smiled, and she followed him up the stairs. He tapped on the door and there was no answer, so she commented, "I guess there mustn't be any occupants."
"Guess not," he agreed, and they went inside. Sam turned on the light and began to rummage through a pile of record albums on the floor, coming up with several LPs. He set up his record machine and put one on to play. It was Tom T. Hall again, and Becky found comfort in the resonant, rural quality of his strong voice. Sam Indicated for her to sit down on his bed, and she did. He nestled on the floor beside her dangling feet, taking from his pocket the pipe and a plastic bag filled with what she now knew was marijuana.
"Like some wine, too?" he asked. She nodded, for she had grown fond of the taste of the new liquid, so Sam got up and went out. He came back in a moment with a bottle dripping wet and cold. "We don't need glasses," he volunteered. "We can just take hits back and forth. Its no less sanitary than a communal pipe, is it?" She giggled in reply and be handed her the bottle.
As they shared the pipe and wine, time seemed to enter a new dimension for Becky. Hall's voice, too, was a part of that new consciousness. Sometimes he seemed to be singing very fast, almost like a cartoon chipmunk, sometimes very slowly, like a tolling cathedral bell. Strangest of all, though, she never lost track of what he was saying in his songs. She giggled properly when he sang about a monkey that became president, giggled even more when Sam, at her feet, said "That's a true story-it happened in 1968 and 1972." She felt a shiver of identification, she knew not why, when he sang a long story about a man who got tired of being ridiculed by his neighbors and one day took a gun and went out and shot seven of them. And she felt closest of all to Tom T.'s songs about women-"Ravishing Ruby," the truck stop waitress who was only looking for a father in the men she drifted among; or Pamela Brown, the girl who didn't marry the narrator of one song and so left him free to do all the exciting things he'd found himself able to do. Would Ted think about her someday and cast her in similar recollection? She hoped not. She hoped he kicked himself in the ass every day for the rest of his life, thinking what a bastard he was to do what he did to her.
Strange how she was feeling. Her bead was light and giddy, and even though her throat wasn't dry she kept on gulping at the bottle Sam handed her from time to time. Her belly felt all warm and tingly inside, and her brain was dancing a gavotte to the music of a faraway orchestra.
And Hall was singing now about a beautiful girl married to a man whose brain had collapsed on him, and there wasn't a trace of criticism in his voice as ho told about how she gave her heart to Jethro and her body to everyone else. Something in his words, something the girl is supposed to say, about how her body was Jethro's but-how did she say it?-her God-given body was all hers-Becky suddenly empathized very closely with the song. She took another long deep toke on the pipe, and another, and another…
The only music playing now was somewhere in her mind. She was lying back on the bed, her feet hanging over the edge, and the record player was silent, and Sam was lying next to her. His prick lay like a long soft snake, crawled through his zipper opening. Its head pointed toward her. Awareness hit her slowly. His hand was stroking her soft hair, petting it like a beautiful kitten, and his head was close to hers. She had her hand on his chest, just rubbing at his shirt front.
The effect of what she had smoked and drunk was wearing off now, and she looked around her in surprise. Her eyes fell upon his exposed penis and she stiffened in fright. Sam's hand, lying on her tresses, felt the change in her body attitude and his stroking fell off.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a low husky voice.
"Your thing," she whispered. "You've got it out!"
"Correction," he suggested. "You've got it out. I didn't lay a finger on it"
She went goggle-eyed. "Me?" she said in a voice almost too soft and low to hear.
"You."
"What on earth for?"
"You said something about your God-given body being your own. I figured you wanted to play with it, so I let you fish it loose."
"Did I-play with it?" she asked breathlessly.
"A little."
Becky clutched both hands across her breasts. Her mind was in an uproar. Could she have done such a thing of her own volition? A stranger-a boy she'd lust met this evening-take his penis out of his pants and-finger and fondle it? Becky Ryan? Suspicion clouded her thoughts. Was he lying to her? Was he trying to take advantage of her when she was not in control of herself? Marjie had promised her that no one would dare try such a thing, but Sam lived here. Who would throw him out if he misbehaved? More likely it would be presumptuous of Becky, the party guest, who would be tossed out on her ear for rejecting the overtures of her host.
"Are you telling me the truth?" she demanded, a slight tinge of hostile suspicion flavoring her trembling voice. "Did I really?"
"Stay cool, Beck," he smiled. "Marjie caught me when I was downstairs getting the wine, and she told me that if I tried any dirty stuff with you, she'd cut my balls off with a dull knife. I've got plans for using those things the rest of my life, so I wouldn't try to cross her on anything. Besides, I like you too. I didn't bring you up here to try for a piece. If you wanta go, it's okay with me. I mean, you were out of it for a while and I just went along with you."
Becky was touched by what he said. She pulled gently at the front of his shirt once more. "Honest?"
"Honest," he smiled. "And by the way. You don't have to worry about whether guys think you're ugly. They sure as hell don't. And not all of us are like the one Marjie told me about." He saw the look on her face and followed hastily with, "I'm sorry, Beck-I didn't mean to bring up nasty memories."
"It's all right," she said. "It doesn't bother me any more. Say," she went on. "Would you mind very much if I did-kinda-play with your thing?" And before he could answer yes or no, she bad taken the limp snake between thumb and forefinger, bouncing it up and down, giggling at its flopping.
"Do you want to?" he asked warningly.
"I think so," she replied, her fist closing round his cock as she felt it respond to her caresses. It began to stiffen in her grip, it grew harder, longer, thrusting out of her clench like a proud tree. It was warm in her hand, yet with the stiffness of wood. Inquisitively she let her fist slide up and down its shaft.
A droplet of come appeared in the slit at the tip of his cockhead. It looked just like water as it hung there before sliding its way down the underside of his prick to drip on Becky's thumb.
"Are you gonna shoot out all that stuff?" she asked.
He nodded. "If you keep that up very long I sure will."
"Golly," Becky giggled like a schoolgirl. "Marilyn will shoot me if I get it all over her jumpsuit. Maybe I better take it off." And with that she released his cock, got to her feet, and put a finger to the zipper that ran down the front of the borrowed outfit. Leisurely she pulled the zipper down, opening the front of her costume; then just as leisurely she slipped the garment off her shoulders, baring her young tits to his gaze. He whistled as he saw them, his eyes lighting as they took in the pink perfection of her nipples. She worked her way out of the jumpsuit and, clad in her panties alone, returned to the bed.
His hands touched her tentatively, rubbing the smooth pink of her shoulders, sliding down her ribs, cupping her slim waist. He stroked her belly between navel and panty waistband, and felt her thrusting against him as he did so. Through the thin white nylon of her undies he drew a hand across the tightness of her high young ass, marveled at its springy resilience. Sam touched her bared thighs, tickled a fingertip along their inner curves, making her laugh sweetly with the stimulation.
Last of all he dared reach a finger to her tits. His finger aimed for the pink nipple of her left breast, halted tantalizingly just beyond its point, then knew wondrous joy as he felt her nip extending itself to touch ever so softly the ball of his finger. Admiringly he let a palm cup that breast then, hoisting its perfect orb.
"God," he sighed. He couldn't stop himself then. His head dipped, kissed a nipple, then sucked the point into his mouth. He nursed her dry tit, leaving little drops of saliva on the pink when he pulled away.
"Do you like them?" she whispered.
"Uh-huh," he confirmed.
"They're not too little?"
"Anything over a handful is wasted," he told her. "And yours were just made to be handheld."
And then his mouth covered hers and his body lay partially across hers, the shirt he wore rubbing her bare chest, his pocket buttons twiddling her nipples. She quivered and squirmed, digging her ass into the surface of the bed, shoving her breasts against him hard as she could. Her hands were round his neck, curling his long hair, stroking his spine.
At last he broke away from her lips. "Do you still want me to play with your-cock?" she asked, her lips forming the word that surprised her so much when she said it.
"I can think of something I'd rather do," he answered, hand once more clutching a tit.
Her reply was to unfasten his belt. Sam got the message and he fairly leaped from the bed, clothes falling like autumn leaves in a windstorm. When he rejoined her he was nude, and the only article of clothing between the two of them was the pair of white panties Becky still wore.
"Do you want to?" he asked her, his hands just beginning to tug at her waistband. He wanted her so badly he could taste his lust but be would not force her. If she was willing, they could fuck. If she said no, he would help her dress and take her downstairs as untouched as when she came up.
Becky's head still swam with the wine she had drunk, the weed she had smoked. She put a hand on one of her lovely breasts, felt its rigid nipple. Beneath the white nylon of her panties there was moistness, anticipation. Her eyes blinked a time or two, then shut tightly as she reached a finger to the steel-hard length of Sam's cock. Her finger touched it, rubbed the dark purple head, came away dewy with the droplets of semen that were already appearing from time to time in his ejaculatory opening.
"Yes," she spoke suddenly, "yes, yes, yes!" and she rolled onto her back, thighs open, the flanges of bet cuntal flower opening under the thin guarding veil of her undies. Her crotch was wet, a dark colorless stain dampening her white panties. She felt Sam's fingers tug suddenly at that last barrier, and she raised her ass from the bed to give him assistance in completing the task of undressing her.
His mouth covered hers and he lay atop her, heavy, hard, demanding. She wrapped arms round him and clutched him to her trembling breasts, hoping to still the mad desire that begged now for satisfaction.
Sam broke away from her now, and she reached for him with arms that clung like tendrils, not wanting to lose what he had promised to give her. He sat himself down on the bed, his back against the bedhead, his Legs outstretched, his cock pointing upward like a telephone pole. She crawled to him, and he put his arms on her shoulders and guided her.
"Do it this way," he mumbled, and she let him direct her. Her back to the boy, Becky squatted above his middle, the red point of his cock just touching the blonde fuzz round her pussy. She moved from side to side, teasing his prick with the friction of her cunt hair, giggling excitedly, until she felt his hands-take firm control of her waist. Becky relaxed at once, cooing at his strong touch. He braced one hand on her waist and slipped the other round the shaft of his dick, guiding it to the pink lips of her love tunnel.
She felt the blood-gorged head of him touching her cunt lips, knocking at the door as it were, and she strained to spread herself a little to allow him easy entrance. The petals of her flower parted and his prick began to slide inside her. Becky gasped softly, but the pain she had felt with Ted's rough flicking was absent now. Instead she knew delightful friction as his cockhead teased at her opening slit. It brushed her sensitive pussy lips, made her give a little ticklish trill of enjoyment. Sam didn't have to rape the lovely freshman girl. He was an experienced lover and he knew that fucking was most satisfactory for both partners when it was gentle and unrushed.
With preliminary entrance made, Sam was free to let go his cock. It could find its own way into Becky now that it had been shown the path. He let the released hand slide up Becky's side, to her armpit, rubbing softly the shaven area there. She tightened her arm on his fingers, pressing them into her moist axilla. He fought his way free of her squeeze and worked his fingers round to cup a small lovely breast. She squirmed as he fondled her nipple and teased delicately the underside of her little mound, and her head was swaying from side to side. The tantalization of his partial penetration, of his casually exploring fingers was too much for her.
"Please," she whispered, her lips trembling, spittle forming at the corners of her mouth. "Fuck me now. I can't wait another second."
And before he could react to her sudden demand, she had taken the initiative herself, pressing her body down upon his strong cock. The still-tight lips of her cunt parted as she forced her way down, and there was a momentary thrill of beautiful agony before she could accommodate herself to his presence. And then the agony gave way to glorious sensation.
Her cunt sucked hungrily at the new visitor, drawing it deeper and deeper of its own accord. Becky shoved herself down on Sam, pulling nearly all his length inside her. A joyous shriek burst from her lips as she eased all the way down upon him, embedding him totally inside her vaginal tunnel. She sat upon his cock for a long, long moment, drawing emotion she had never been able to imagine, joy indescribable, as she experienced the presence of his immersion. Juices flowed round the staff of his prick, wetting it, wetting her, and she wiggled upon him to scoot his cock round and round in her lubrication.
"You okay?" Sam asked considerately, his hands still touching her nipples, clutching her waist.
Becky nodded In determination, her hair bouncing up and down with the force of her gesture.
"All right, then," Sam smiled. "Let's go!"
Becky gurgled in surprised excitement then as Sam lurched upward, driving at her. His balls rubbed the splayed slice of her cunt, and she jumped in delight. And beneath her Sam was shoving up and down, trying to imbed himself in her tight cunt. She got the message and started to vibrate and bob on his impalement. He worked his hips in counterpoint to hers, and as she moved up and down, up and down, she felt the rigid shape of his tool moving inside her newly educated pussy.
The tickling sensation that affected her labia whenever he moved was breathtaking, and Becky looked down her front to see her left lit quivering with anticipation as her heart scuttered away Inside her body. She thought madly that the feeling must be closely akin to that of having your foot stroked lightly by a feather for hours on end. And she never wanted it to stop! She jerked herself up and down on his cock, her pussy walls striving to clutch it as tight as possible. Now it was vital that she be stuffed as full as she could be. With Ted the dry tightness had been nigh unendurable, but with Sam she wanted to know that lightness in even more thrilling measure.
Her mouth was open and her breath husking out of her from the fanatic determination with which she fucked herself on Sam's stiff cock. She put her hands on the points of her tits, squeezed the pink nipples viciously, brushed at a drop of saliva that trailed down her chin uncontrollably, laughed loudly, maniacally, as she felt the cock shafting into her almost unused vaginal tract.
Surprise hit Becky like a slap in the mouth when Sam's fingers stole from her waist and crept into the gold fringe of her cant hair below. She sighed and "oohed" at his first darting touch, then opened her mouth in a gasp of excitement as she felt a finger enter the fucked-open gash of her pussy. As Sam's cock screwed in and out, his finger touched roguishly the exposed nub of her clitoris. A shudder swept across her humping body, and each time he felt her love button once more, she fluttered again. Sopping juices were turning her cunt interior to pasty jelly, and every thrust of his prick rubbed against a new nerve, sending a fresh message of rapture to her brain.
Becky pushed her body back against Sam, striving to arch her loins so that he could the more easily caress her love bump. She spread her straddled legs till she feared her slice would burst open, but whether it split or not, she still had to allow him all the more access to her aching clit. Jacking up and down on his stiff prick, presenting like a Christmas gift the raw treasure of her femininity, Becky fucked herself like a madwoman on Sam's jerking cock.
Her eyes drifted round the room, went in and out of focus, settled at last upon the face of Marjie, standing in the door. Becky blinked two or three times to assure herself she was indeed being watched, and when she was sure that Marjie's presence was real and not imaginary, she wheezed out a greeting.
Marjie stepped across the room with a smile. The knit dress she wore swished and swirled round her plump thighs as she approached.
"How's it going, Beck?" she grinned, knowing that her blonde roomie was too far gone to carry on conversation.
Becky panted in reply, squealing suddenly as Sam's fingers rubbed once more the deliciously tender button. His cock was squishing in and out of her wet twat as she jerked up and down on his lap, and she could feel it swelling inside her, just as Ted's had in the moments before it spat its load.
"I'm gonna come," Sam grunted. "I can't hold it back!" and then he jerked upward just as Becky thrust down upon him, and he felt his cock emptying itself. He had no control now. All he could do was to push against her, burying his entire length in the blonde girl's cunt, shoving it at her on each squirt of his hot jism.
Becky hovered on the verge of orgasm. Her heart was leaping and her mind was in turmoil. As Sam emptied himself he continued to rub her clitty, and she knew as she pressed herself down upon his gushing peter that something totally new was about to happen to her.
Marjie stood close by, her face near Becky's, her eyes studying the young girl's strangely distorted features. "Come, Becky, come!" she was whispering hotly. "You can do it! Let go!" She clenched her hands so tightly the nails left imprints on her palms. If Becky didn't come soon, she knew she would jab her finger into the girl's cunt right alongside Sam's. She had to see that Becky got her rocks off too! It was all part of that good deed for which she felt so proud of herself.
Becky gasped, and her heart seemed to stop. Her clit seemed large as a peanut, quivering under Sam's brushing touches, and when he squeezed it suddenly, his cock still hard inside her though it had spilt its load and was now working overtime, she shrieked like a banshee.
She jerked herself upward, uncocking herself at once, feeling the sudden oozing drip of warm wet come from out of her pussy. Becky threw herself forward onto the bed, lying on her stomach, her legs bent upward at the knees, her hands beneath her, rubbing at her tummy, sliding down into the wet patch of golden hair in her delta. She stroked herself as she lay humping her crotch on the fingers, feeling the liquids that flowed from her, liquids that she and Sam had conspired to create, and her face looked toward the wall, seeing nothing. The mighty thumpings of her heart seemed loud as thunder in her ears, but she could hear very clearly the rustle of her hair against the bedsheet as she writhed in ecstasy, and she could hear herself repeating over and over again as she throbbed in the joys of her first partnered orgasm: "My God-given body is my own!"