Right at my pussy, Paula thought, squirming uneasily. He's staring right at my pussy!
The shabby Mexican boy was about Paula's age, fourteen, kneeling at her feet, holding and applying polish to her loafer with little slaps and rubs, the Juarez sun beating down very hot on them that summer afternoon.
Paula regretted having stepped outside the leather-goods shop in which her parents were still browsing. She also regretted having worn her new short skirt. With her leg hiked up and the boy kneeling before her, she realized he could see everything! Of course she had panties on, and he couldn't actually see her blonde mound, but his hot gaze and amused grin unnerved her just the same. The dirty boy was seeing more of her than she'd ever shown her boy friend back home!
"Watch it!" she snapped. "You're getting polish on my ankle!"
He said he was sorry, but Paula doubted it from the way he chuckled. She wished she hadn't let him talk her into a shine, even though she did need one badly. What I don't need, she thought, is his big, brown eyes eating me up like they're doing! For a second she allowed herself the knowledge that the Mexican boy was darkly handsome, and during that second his gaze caressed her crotch quite pleasantly, actually starting her cunt on its automatic response and making it juice slightly.
But she stopped that nonsense by shutting her eyes and raising her pretty face so she wouldn't have to look at him. Tossing her long, blonde hair, Paula opened her eyes and glanced inside the shop. Her parents were dickering over price, the salesman talking fast as he pointed out the quality of the hand-tooled leather purse her mother wanted.
The sidewalk was teeming with other vacationing Americans. From three doors up music blared in spurts each time anyone entered or left the night club which seemed to be going full steam even though it was only the middle of the afternoon.
Shops and bars, thought Paula. That's all Juarez is.
She didn't like the border city. There was something about the looseness of both residents and visitors which threatened her. She couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was that made her uneasy, but it did affect her. She would be glad to leave in the morning and get back home to Tulsa.
"Senorita?"
"What?" Paula asked without looking down at the boy.
"You want souvenir of Juarez?"
"I already have a souvenir, thank you."
"Not this kind, senorita. Look… look what I got."
Reluctantly Paula glanced down. He was handsome, despite his smug grin. She allowed a half-smile to cross her delicate face, showing her white teeth as her unpainted lips parted and curled almost warmly.
"Peechers," the boy said, reaching into his shirt pocket and coming out with an envelope, opening it and extracting a small stack of photographs. "Really good peechers, senorita. You want see them?"
Having no idea what kind of pictures the boy was going to show her, Paula nodded naively and held out her hand. "What are they of, the bullfights?"
"Much hotter than bullfights, senorita," he laughed. "You look. I sell them to you cheap. Ten dollars."
Paula scowled as she took the small stack of photographs. She knew she wasn't going to buy them at that price, but she had to see what he thought was worth so much money. When she turned the pictures over and got a look at the first one, the smile instantly vanished from her lovely face. She gasped audibly, her hands beginning to tremble and her knees feeling weak.
"You like, senorita?"
"No. It's obscene," she whispered, tearing her gaze from the photo and glancing nervously around as she pushed them at him.
But he was ignoring her, looking down at her shoe as he worked at it with a worn brush.
"Here. Take them back. I don't want them."
"They get better," he said without looking up. "Flip through them all. You'll see."
"No… I don't want to see," she protested, pulling the pictures close to her as a middle-aged couple and three children walked past.
The boy wouldn't take them. He kept working at her shoe, starting to whistle as he put his brush away and began using a polish-stained rag.
Not knowing what to do, Paula stood nervously with the pictures in her hand and her foot propped on the shine box. She had never seen anything like that awful picture, and her mind was still reeling from it. She thought of throwing the lewd pictures to the sidewalk and running back into the leather-goods shop. But she didn't. She merely stood there trembling, watching the boy finish her right shoe and letting him put her foot on the sidewalk and pull her left foot onto the box to shine her other shoe.
As the shock wore off, she realized the photo had also had another effect on her. Butterflies seemed to be darting around in her stomach-the same butterflies that always tried to fly out of her when her boy friend kissed her passionately and struggled to put his hand under her dress.
Feeling lightheaded and ashamed of herself, Paula brought the pictures up and furtively looked at the top one again. It was in color. A very dark Mexican man and a fair-skinned girl were lying on a bed, fondling one another's genitals as they kissed. Paula stared intently at what the girl held in her hand. Recently her boy friend had tried to put her hand on something very similar. She hadn't let him, of course, but it had excited her just brushing her skin through his trousers.
She couldn't resist going on to the next photo, and it was even worse than the first. She heard herself gasp again as she gawked unblinkingly at the perverted act it depicted. The girl was on her knees, bending over the man, taking his big prick into her mouth! Paula felt a chill dart up her spine at the pleased expression on the girl's face. Feeling somewhat nauseated, she slipped the disgusting photo off and put it on the bottom of the stack.
She didn't want to look at the rest of them-not really. But she couldn't tear her eyes away. The man was returning the girl's favor in the next shot, his face pushed between her spread thighs and his tongue licking deep into her hairy cunt. Paula stared at that one, feeling the butterflies in her stomach go wild as she read the obvious bliss in the girl's face.
"Oh my God!" she muttered softly, ripping the picture eagerly off the top so she could see the next one.
The camera had been between their legs for this one, and it had captured every detail. Paula choked back a moan as she saw the man's purplish knob pushing into the girl. She flipped to the next picture and let the moan escape her tensed throat. The male's cock was gone from view, embedded in the girl, his large testicles resting in the crack of her widespread ass.
A sensation of whirling enveloped Paula as she hurriedly flipped through the rest of the photographs. And the last one was the lewdest of all. The man's cock was all shiny-wet, looking soft and red, poised just outside the girl's cunt. They'd finished, Paula realized, fighting the urge to scream as she stared in utter fascination at the semen trickling from the girl's open pussy.
"Ten dollars," the boy said, "take them home and show to your girl friends."
With a start Paula realized the boy was finished shining her shoes. "I don't want them!" she hissed, thrusting the pictures at him. "Here! Take them!"
"You liked them."
"I didn't!"
He grinned, pointing at her loins. "You liked them. I see you are wet. Okay… five dollars then."
"You nasty thing!" she blurted, dropping the pictures as she jerked her foot off his shine box.
While the boy was hastily picking up his dirty pictures, she dug a quarter from her purse and tossed it to the sidewalk, then spun around and stomped toward the door of the leather-goods shop. She'd never felt so insulted. Raging, she darted into the doorway only to bump into her parents coming out.
"What's wrong, sweetie?"
"Nothing, Daddy. The heat, I guess. Can we go back to the motel now?"
"Let's stop at one more shop first," he said. "I want to get one of those black-velvet paintings with all the bright colors."
"For heaven's sake, Elliott," her mother snapped. "You can get your grotesque painting tonight. Look at Paula's face. Why, she's near heatstroke!"
"You are awfully red, sweetie," Elliott said. "Have you been standing right out in the sun? Stay here in the shade with her, Ruth. Let me get the air-conditioning going before you two get in the car."
When Elliott came from his shower, Ruth was standing beside the bed hooking her nylons to her garter belt. He stopped to watch the sensual scene. At thirty-five her body was even better than it had been when he'd married her sixteen years ago. And her face had mellowed rather than aged, making her a very beautiful woman indeed. Unlike most women her age, Ruth had no need for a bra. Elliott counted himself very fortunate to have married her, even though her sex drive was nowhere near as strong as his.
And his sex drive was beginning to make itself known. The light glinted off her very blonde and carefully coiffured hair as she bent to her task, her fingers popping the fasteners into place to hold her hose up snug around her long, shapely legs. In that position her pink-tipped breasts stood out from her body to best advantage, jiggling as she fussed to get everything just right.
All she had on at the moment was garter belt and hose. His cock coming to life, love for his beautiful wife welling up in his chest, Elliott sneaked up behind her. Being careful not to let his prick slip between her nude buttocks, because she didn't like that at all, he bent over her and cupped her tits, kissing her warm back and sighing.
She jerked, then ignored him and went on fixing her stockings to her garter belt.
"Ohh, how I love you!"
"I love you too, darling," she said coolly. "Get dressed."
"What's your rush? We've got all night. Come to bed and let's make love before we go out."
"I'm not in the mood, Elliott."
"It's been almost two weeks."
"I'm still not in the mood. This place upsets me. I don't like it here… and I don't like what we're going to do tonight."
Hurt, his cock wilting at once, he released her tits and stepped away. "You don't have to go with me, you know. Stay here if you'd rather."
"Oh, no," she sighed. "You'll be drinking much more than you're used to. I do have to go with you. I wouldn't want you doing anything foolish."
"Like what?" he asked tiredly, stepping into the fresh shorts she'd laid out for him.
"Hah!"
"Ruth, I'm a minister… remember?"
"You're also a man… remember? And booze and pretty young girls have a way of making some ministers we've known forget how to behave properly. Now I'm not saying you'd make an ass of yourself like George did, but with me along you're much less likely to get into anything you shouldn't."
"For crying out loud, Ruth!"
"I'm going!"
"All right!"
"I don't see why this nonsense is necessary, but I'm going."
"I'm writing a book on morals, dear… on vacation morals, how people differ in their moral outlook when they're away from home and job and family. Tonight is research, pure and simple. A border town is still a wicked place. I expect to get enough material tonight for at least one chapter… maybe two."
"Some research!"
Elliott jabbed his arm into the sleeve of his shirt.
"Going to filthy bars where girls strip and all."
"How else am I going to know what I'm writing about?"
"Can't you imagine what goes on in such places? Do you have to go see it for yourself before you can condemn it?"
"Yes, I can imagine what goes on; and yes, I have to go see if for myself. I've never written a book before, but I want mine to be factual and forceful… not full of hot-air sermons."
"All right, darling. I think I see your reasoning now," she said pleasantly, coming toward him with her panties on, turning and backing to him for him to hook her bra.
At nine, Elliott and Ruth were dressed to go out. Both were somewhat nervous about the evening ahead, though neither would admit it to the other. Ruth had never seen anything like the sensuality they were venturing into, and she would have preferred not to ever. But she couldn't allow Elliott – what with his strong drives and all – to do his border town research on his own. He was more than a minister, and she could imagine him drunk and carrying on in one of those dens of iniquity, the alcohol causing him to forget decency temporarily. Of course he would hate himself for it later, if such a thing should actually happen, because he was a very moral person. But with her going along, she reasoned, he would drink less and she could thereby save him any embarrassment and later guilt. She didn't know why he wanted to write that silly book anyway. They certainly didn't need the money he might make from it – not since he'd taken the big church he now pastored. But writing such a book had been on his mind for some years, and in a way she was relieved that at last he was going to do it and get it out of his system once and for all.
Elliott would have preferred to leave Ruth behind. He'd seen a bit of border town night life many years ago, before he'd ever thought of becoming a minister. He'd never been in Juarez, but he supposed it was somewhat like Nuevo Laredo, which he'd visited with three of his soldier buddies while stationed in Texas. He would rather have spared his wife an evening he knew could only make her upset and uncomfortable. But she was adamant in her insistence on going with him to keep him out of the "foolishness" he was certain he wouldn't get into anyway. On the other hand, he admitted to himself as they went into Paula's room to tell her good night, Ruth's reaction might be useful to his book since she was a God-fearing woman and would be seeing such licentiousness for the first time. But at any rate she insisted on going, and it was easier to take her along than cause hard feelings and suspicions.
Elliott knocked on the door between their connecting rooms.
"It isn't locked. Come on in," Paula called, pulling the cover over her because she had on her shortie nightgown.
"We're leaving now, sweetie," Elliott told her, crossing to her bed to kiss her good night. "It'll probably be late when we get back. Don't try to wait up for us, okay?"
"I won't, Daddy. I'm going to watch TV for a while though. I can't understand a word they're saying, but the Mexican station fascinates me just the same."
"You can get the El Paso stations too, you know," Ruth said, moving to offer her cheek for Paula to kiss, so she wouldn't smear her carefully applied lipstick.
"Mother, you look absolutely beautiful! Doesn't she, Daddy?"
"She always looks beautiful," Elliott said, smiling at Ruth.
"Well, I think you look extra lovely tonight, Mother."
"Thank you, Paula. Don't stay up too late, now… and be sure to lock your door. Ours is already locked. You don't have to worry about anyone coming in through it."
"I hardly think she has anything to worry about in this motel, Ruth."
"You can't be too careful, Elliott. I want her to lock her door as soon as we leave."
"All right, Mother. I will. You and Daddy have a good time. Don't worry about me. I'm big enough to take care of myself for a few hours."
"A good time," Ruth muttered disdainfully to herself as she moved to the door.
"Good night, sweetie," Elliott said. "Pleasant dreams."
"Daddy," Paula called, stopping Elliott in the doorway. "Did I tell you how handsome you look?"
Elliott chuckled as he shut the door.
Still smiling at the faint embarrassment her compliment caused her father, Paula kicked back the covers and went to lock the door. When she climbed back on the bed to watch the Mexican TV program, she didn't bother to pull the cover over her again. The air-conditioning made the room quite pleasant but not at all chilly. She felt her mother was silly to worry about her being alone. The Juarez motel was new and plush, with the vast majority of the guests Americans like themselves. The few Mexicans she'd seen in the dining room were obviously from the better families. But of course she would have locked the door anyway. She always did lock the door at any motel – because it was sensible – but not out of fear.
The next program on the Mexican channel was less interesting, but she didn't bother to get up and switch to another station. Inside her mind another program was beginning to play, and it was like nothing TV had ever broadcast! One by one the obscene photographs she'd been so stunned by that afternoon kept flashing into her consciousness.
At first it was upsetting and she tried to drive the horrid mental images away. But they refused to go. The more she fought them the more vivid they became. Soon Paula gave up, sighing as she shut her eyes. She realized instantly that shutting her eyes and relaxing had been a mistake, because her mental images grew even more vivid and lifelike. They were still awful, but now she found them exciting as well. She knew she shouldn't find such obscene trash exciting, and she tried not to let it affect her.
It did affect her, though, and soon her pink nipples were turning hard and her stomach was literally full of those pleasant butterflies. The Mexican shine boy's face came before her, handsome and smug as he pointed at her crotch and said, "You liked them. I see you are wet." And she had been wet. When she'd undressed for a cool shower as soon as they'd returned to the motel, Paula had discovered her panty crotch was soaked with secretions.
And she was secreting again, she realized with a start, even more than in the afternoon. The juices were beginning to boil inside her loins just from thinking about it. Her virgin pussy felt strange all hot and hungry and itchy!
"What's happening to me?" she moaned softly. "Am I losing my mind?"
My mind, she thought. It's only in my mind. It can't hurt anything if it's only in my mind. I feel so strange! I wish – oh God, I really do wish I was the girl in those dirty pictures!
And she became the girl in her mind – not Paula Strickland, the minister's daughter, but a lustful worldly girl, taking great joy as she dove mentally into an orgy of sexual sinfulness. The man in the pictures became the shabby but handsome shine boy. They were lying together – this other girl, not Paula Strickland – kissing passionately and handling each other's sex organs. Then this other Paula – this total stranger – was kneeling over the dark boy's body and taking his hard cock eagerly into her mouth, sucking it wildly and moaning with lust.
The moans were real, Paula realized dimly. They were coming from her own throat. Her nipples were so hard they hurt, and her young loins were threatening to burst into flames at any second. She reached quickly between her legs and cupped herself, moaning aloud at the thrilling contact, her fingers and palm feeling the wet, warm fluid which was oozing from her feverish cunt. She rubbed herself unashamedly, still thinking of her mouth – no, the other girl's mouth – on the hot male organ. She stuck two fingers into her mouth and sucked them loudly as her fingers worked under her soaked crotchband and began to trace the elliptical opening of her parting cunt lips.
Then she – no, the other Paula – was on her back and the boy was on top of her, pressing his hard cock into her as the man had done in the picture.
"I wish I'd bought the damned things," she muttered.
No! a voice inside her snapped. You wouldn't want anything like that. Think how terrible it would be if your parents found them!
"Right. I'm glad I didn't buy them, but I wish… I wish…"
Paula didn't know what she wished. Her mind was being bombarded by extremely powerful but totally new sensations, and she felt utterly confused by it all. She pushed her panties down her thighs and kicked them completely off the bed, then spread her legs wide and rubbed her hairy mound and her puffy lips, letting her finger slide inside part way and tickle her throbbing clitoris.
She abruptly changed hands, licking and sucking her own juice from her fingers as her spit-slick fingers began rubbing and dipping into her steaming cunt. She was careful not to damage her precious hymen. But she did press against it until she felt pain, imagining the pain was caused by the Mexican boy's hard cock entering her – and loving the sensation.
"Ohhh… oh, fuck me!" she panted, shocked at hearing such a dirty phrase rip from her mouth, but excited all the more by the lustful sound of it.
Paula kept changing hands, sucking and fingering, getting hotter and hotter as she saw the Mexican boy and the other Paula join together inside her mind. It was so real she could almost feel his big cock entering her own sweat-damp body.
"This is crazy," she moaned.
But it was terribly thrilling to think about, and she was only thinking about it! It can't hurt, she told her conscience. It isn't really happening! And her conscience, dulled by the lust which had overwhelmed her young body, gave up and went away.
It was all pleasure for Paula after that. She writhed and rubbed, sucked and groaned, secure in the knowledge that such a thing could never actually happen to her! And since she was alone no one could ever possibly know what she was thinking and doing to herself. It wasn't as if she hadn't touched herself there before. She had, but never this thrillingly, and never for this long.
"Good Lord!" she gasped, suddenly stiffening as an orgasm swept over her for the first time in her life.
The room spun dizzily as her body twitched and jerked. She panted for breath, whimpering and groaning as she bit her lower lip and tossed her head wildly from side to side, giving herself up entirely to the blinding joy of her first climax.