The late afternoon cast shadows into Miriam Dodge's living-room, stretching darkness across the worried English teacher as she sat slumped in an overstuffed easy chair. She gazed with sightless eyes out of the open side window, blankly staring at the same grassy field she had been able to see earlier from her bedroom. Now the park was empty, the teenage footballers having left for their homes and Sunday dinner. Just as well, she haplessly thought; she doubted she could stand the sight of any more virile young boys frolicking innocently around…
Idly she took the glass of vodka from the table beside her and sipped it, feeling the hot alcohol burning all the way down to fill her empty stomach. She had been nipping at the soothing liquor ever since Mark had left and she'd risen naked and trembling from her wettened, rumpled bed.
Miriam's first wild emotion had been to purge herself of the boy's warm wet semen which had glistened whitely on the soft blonde curls and pink wet lips of her vagina. But turning from the lewd sight of her semen-soiled sheets, she had faced the open bathroom door and been gripped by an almost insane sense of revulsion. To have stepped into the shower stall again or even to have douched in that bathroom would have been a mocking reminder of where she had finally surrendered to her lewd perversion. As unclean as she'd felt, she had hurriedly dressed in a short, pleated skirt of navy blue and matching thin pullover, wanting nothing more urgently than to cover her betraying naked flesh. Her second reaction had been to rush into the kitchen and open an upper cabinet to reach for the still sealed bottle of vodka…
The tormented woman felt a little ashamed at the way she'd been drinking, but she couldn't help being grateful for the faint lightheadedness that swirled through her blood and eased the torture that was paralyzing her brain. The hours she's spent catching up on her housework had helped as well, but everything was clean now and she had no more to do to keep her mind off her misery. Even her ravaged bed had been changed, though just the feel of the sheets in her fingers had sent queasy despair rippling through her.
Now, alone with nothing but her own morbid thoughts to occupy her time, Miriam was afraid she would go crazy. She lifted the glass and took a deep swallow, choking to hold down the burning liquor. Her repugnance toward her depraved seduction of Roger Trenton's son was worse than she had feared, for that was exactly what it had been – a lewd, seductive rape. He had run frightened and confused from the house once she'd allowed him to dress, and there was no telling what he might do once out of her sight. She'd warned him not to say a word, but a child of his age had so little control. A horrible nightmare welled up in her mind as Miriam envisioned the boy bragging to his friends how he'd fucked his English teacher, and what would happen to her once everybody in Logansville knew she was a child molester. Or would Mark confess to his father out of shame and bewilderment? The mere idea of what Roger might do then made her take another mouthful of the strong alcohol.
Little Mark's cum is still lying pooled in my belly, too, she moaned in helpless dejection. His virile sperm was the ultimate souvenir of how quickly the cherished promise had crumbled completely before her monstrous desires. She refilled her glass from the nearby bottle while images of Mark Trenton charged heavily through her head, his young black-haired handsomeness immediately stimulating her even as she cursed her animal-like cravings. Needfully, Miriam drained the last of the bottle into her glass; but as she drank, she became aware that she had consumed almost a fifth of straight vodka on an empty stomach. She was, she realized dizzily, becoming increasingly drunk. And, oh God, every sip she took seemed to incite her internal hungers more!
Minute tongues of carnal fire were beginning to lick tauntingly at the soft inner flesh of her white thighs and she could sense an unwanted moisture seeping from between the tight lips of her vagina. She could feel the strength steadily leaving her body as she kept remembering vividly the boyish penis pistoning in and out of her warm, willing cunt until it came and filled her wide-stretched pussy with wildly spurting young seed. Slowly and inexorably her breathing became more ragged, and beneath her short skirt and tight sweater she could feel her smooth warm flesh begin to seethe with newly-kindled desire…
"Stop it! Oh God, stop it!" she moaned incoherently to the silence of the tomb-like house. But deep down inside her heart she knew that she could not stop the chain of inexorable events she had unwittingly set in motion. Like a motor throwing its circuit breaker because of a short, Miriam's tortured mind could not take any more, and defensively it counteracted by spreading a sense of warm lethargy over the stricken woman. Aided by the alcohol she'd drunk, it let her drift drowsily… God, what was she going to do? Was there anything she could do at all…? She leaned back with her head resting against the top of the chair and stared at the ceiling above her, and for a long while she lay unmoving… and then her head drooped and she sunk into a fitful, restless sleep…
While Miriam Dodge was sleeping the sleep of the guilty, young Mark Trenton was visiting with Joey Gore, one of his friends from school, and another close pal named Donald Watson. The other two boys were freshmen students as he was, though both were a little older and more developed for their age. Mark had always been the junior member of the trio, often ignored and left out when Joey and Don would do things that were sort of "bad". His father had often told him that the boys were wrong influences on him, and that his grades would suffer if he continued hanging around with them, but in his youthful spirit of rebellion, his father's disapproval only made him want to be like them more than ever.
They'd been fooling around with Joey's model airplane collection, buzzing them around in mock dog-fights, recreating an imaginary air fight over Vietnam. But now they were tired, and were resting until a science fiction horror movie they wanted to watch came on the television. They were talking in loud whispers in Joey's bedroom at the back of the Gore house, Joey sprawled on the bed while Mark sat in a chair and Don read a comic book…
"Man, tomorrow starts another week of grinds," Joey sighed. "Shit on school, I say. I can't wait until I'm grown up and don't have to go anymore. Then every day can be like a Saturday and Sunday."
"Yeah, that would be keen," Don said, turning a page of the comic. "I'd sure hate to be a teacher like your dad, Mark. He has to go to school all his life. That's for the birds, all right."
"I dunno," Mark retorted, wanting to defend his father. "He's pretty smart, and he told me he'd hate to work in some factory where he was around nothing but dumb men all day."
Joey Gore laughed. "Yeah, you got something there, Mark. Hell, the scenery's better at least, especially with a knock-out like Mrs. Dodge around now. Man, she must have the finest set of knockers I've ever seen on a broad!"
"You ain't a-kidding," Don Watson chimed in with a low, appreciative whistle. "And what a nice ass she's got, too. She sure beats Miss Flannigan we had for English last year."
"At least old Flannel-face put out for us." Joey snickered. "Only way I graduated grammar school was by sticking it to her every week. She had a snatch like a berry-bush, but I got the passing grade, anyway."
"Same here," Watson boasted. "She wanted me to go down and lick her once, but that's where I drew the line. I'll stick my prick into anything but not my face."
"I'd sure love to get my nose down between Mrs. Dodge's legs, though," Gore sighed.
"You'll never get that," Watson sighed. "None of us will. Crap, and that's really a shame too. All that meat going to waste."
Young Mark Trenton suddenly wanted to brag about what he'd done that morning, unable to resist the chance to have the boys look up to him for a change. Shit, he'd never even gotten into Flannel-face – Miss Flannigan – on account his grades were always high enough otherwise.
But now, this time, he had something on Joey and Don! Eagerly, he dropped his voice to an excited whisper. "Yeah? Well, I've news for you two," he blurted. "I got into Mrs. Dodge!"
"Flake off, Mark," Joey snickered. "You've been dreaming too hard while jacking off."
"Right. You gotta be a real stud before that kind of pussy falls," Watson added. "A babe like her would chew your pecker clean off." And both the older boys laughed lewdly, tauntingly.
"I did!" Mark heatedly protested. "I sure as hell did! I saw right up inside her snatch and…"
"Bullshit," Joey sneered. "Only hole you ever saw is the one in your ass when you bend around and look at it in the mirror."
"Listen, you guys," Mark said, red in the face. "I tell you true. I was over at her house mowing the lawn like I do every Sunday, and Jesus! I look up once, and there she is, standing naked as a jaybird in the window!"
"Hey," Don said in a new, awed voice. "You're serious!"
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Mark retorted, and seeing that he'd caught their attention, he talked on without thinking of what he was doing. "So then I heard her calling me a few minutes later, so I went in to see if something's the matter. This time I see her naked in the shower, and she's fingering herself!"
"No!" Joey blurted, his eyes widening with excitement. "Got her hand right up her pussy, huh? Then what happened?"
"Well, she saw me and stopped. Then instead of screaming or telling me to get the hell out, she stepped real slow out of the shower, like she was a stripper or something, and peels my clothes off until I'm as naked as she is! Then she takes me in the bedroom and before I know it, I've got my prick sliding up her cunt! She moaned and groaned, begging for it! Fuck me, Mark, she yelled at me. Fuck me hard!"
"Jesus Christ," Joey Gore groaned, "she ever say that to me, and I'd ram it clean out her belly for sure!"
"Why the hell did she pick a kid like you?" Watson snapped.
"I dunno. Maybe because I was there and you weren't. All I can tell you is that it happened, and man, she is one fine piece of ass!"
"Ain't that the shits," groaned Don Watson. "I'm dying for some of that, and look who ends up throwing a fuck to her. There ain't no justice in the world, I tell you true."
"No…?" A vicious gleam began to glitter in Joey Gore's beady little eyes. "Well, now, maybe we can work something out so there is. I mean, hell… if Mark could do it, I oughta be able to slide my meat into her with no trouble at all."
"How you going to get the chance?" Watson scoffed. "Take over mowing her lawn?"
"Naw. I could take her up in the hills, though. You could come along and hold her down if she gets scared. Then I'd do the same for you while you throw one into her."
Mark was suddenly very sorry he'd ever opened his mouth. Jesus, if Joey and Don ever roughed up Mrs. Dodge that way, he'd never forgive himself. He liked her, liked her a lot – and inwardly he blushed as he remembered how he'd confessed to her about wanting her to be his mother. "Hey, you rape her, and she can have you arrested," he said, attempting to persuade them from their plot.
"Right," Watson agreed. "If she said anything, we'd sure be up shit creek, that's for sure. I'm too young to go to jail."
Joey Gore rubbed the lobe of his large ear for a moment. Then he nodded, saying. "Maybe you're right. But hell, I sure want to grab a piece of that cunt for myself…" Then his eyes began to sparkle with new-found lewdness. "Okay, then we'll get her Friday night, during the dance."
Watson gasped. "How?"
"Simple. First we act real nice to her this week, so she won't think something's cooking. Then we'll give her drinks of that stupid punch during the dance, only we'll spike them first."
"Right on, man," Watson chuckled lewdly. "We get her soaking drunk. Then what?"
"We get Mark here to lure her up to the gym storage room. You know, where all the wrestling mattresses are kept. She'll believe him more than us. Then we'll be waiting for her, and… pow! She'll be so boozed up that the rest will take care of itself."
"Hot damn, that's a fine idea," Watson said. Then he frowned and turned to young Mark Trenton. "But you in this with us, kid? Come on, are you chicken-shit?"
Yes… yes, he was! Mark's mind told him over and over. He was scared of the whole idea of helping Joey and Don fuck Mrs. Dodge… but then, this was his big chance with them! If he backed out now, he'd never get another chance of getting in with them. Crap, what could he do?
"You want to tear into that pussy of hers again, don't you?" Joey said. "Well, you help us, and you get some of the action, okay?"
"Well…" Damn it, the mere thought of that tight wet pussy sliding up and down over his prick was making it grow hard in his gym shorts. Shit, he sure wanted more of her! "Well, all right. I'll do it. Only you gotta promise you won't hurt her none."
"Naw, we won't," Watson said.
"Hell, for the way you tell it, Mark," Gore added lewdly, "we won't have to. She'll be like a mink in heat for all of us! All ever-loving, fucking three of us guys!"
Miriam Dodge was late for school Monday morning, the result of a throbbing hangover and a fearful reluctance to want to see Roger Trenton or his son ever again. She had been foolish enough to hope she could change her warped sexual desires, but that had been before yesterday and her depraved actions with young Mark. Now she could see that when at last she did face the loving, gentle widower again, it could only be to tell him she could not marry him, not ever! As for his handsome boy, she just prayed that she'd be able to seal away the unspeakable sordid episode with him in some dark recess of her mind. Eventually, if she could stay as far away from the temptation he presented, she might be able to feel nothing except a guilty scar to remind her what she'd done to him. She knew that she had to keep her mind off her nightmarish situation, or she'd never be able to go on, and that simply being around either of the Trentons would only make her wounds fester…
Yet as she thought of her alternatives, she realized with sinking heart that her only choice was to somehow continue her life here in Logansville as though nothing had happened to her. A hasty, feigned sick-call would only delay the inevitable, and she would have to go back to work sooner or later. In the meantime, Roger might become concerned and drop by – and then what could she tell him? A quick resignation and a sudden leaving of town would only place her where she'd been when she'd arrived – running in a fugitive-like panic. And this time, she didn't even have enough money to travel, her savings used up just to get her cross-country to California! She had to stick it out here, to somehow brazen through and hope things didn't get any worse. But God, how could they get worse than they already were?
She dressed hurriedly, not even taking time for breakfast. She'd lost her appetite anyway, the mere thought of what she had to look forward to making her queasy in her stomach. She speedily drove to the school, a thick lump congealing in her throat and her eyes constantly threatening to burst into tears.
Logansville High was a century-old, three-storied brick cube, situated in the midst of a tree-shaded park near the center of the small downtown area. By the time Miriam had parked her car, the first bell had rung and only a few stragglers were to be seen scurrying across the broad expanse of lawn to the building. She was walking quickly down the almost deserted corridor to her classroom, when she bumped into the school's principal, Harlow Cartwright.
Cartwright was a large man, balding and plump, with a round, moonish face given to grinning at things which displeased him. He adjusted his pince-nez glasses as he regarded Miriam with a thin, disapproving smile.
"Indeed, Mrs. Dodge," he said in his thin, nasal voice. "Late, aren't you?"
"I… I'm sorry," she apologized, blushing. "I… I had a little trouble with my car this morning. A flat tire," she lied. "I had to have it repaired."
"I see."
"M-my class must be waiting for me," Miriam said, now completely flustered. "I better be off, Mr. Cartwright."
Cartwright pursed his thick, rubbery lips, still studying her intently. "I'm glad we did run into one another, in spite of the fact you're tardy, Mrs. Dodge. I wanted to tell you, you don't have to be at the dance Friday night at seven o'clock as we'd planned."
"Oh?"
"Yes. My wife has decided to come, too." The principal made a small grimace, his mouth tightening as though in a grin of rigor mortis. "Agnes insists on taking care of the decorations and refreshments beforehand, so you can come around eight, if you wish."
"Thank you. That would be wonderful."
"Oh, and Mrs. Dodge…?"
"Yes?"
"Do try to be on time."
"Of course, Mr. Cartwright. Of course I will…" Miriam hurried down the hall as the principal turned away in the opposite direction. Damn, damn! Why did she have to run into that wretched fat man on this of all mornings? She could feel herself unraveling at the mental seams, what with everything bearing down on her the way they were…
She reached the door of her classroom, and then a deep, shuddering tremble rippled over her body. Mark Trenton was one of her pupils, and would be in there just beyond the door, sitting and waiting for her with the memories of yesterday still fresh in his young, immature mind. God, did she have the strength? Well, if she didn't she'd better turn around right that instant and run, run as fast and far as she could…
Resolutely she took a breath and with chin held high, walked into the room and directly to her desk. She saw the boy almost immediately as she turned to face the class. He sat in the front, alongside Gore and Watson, who were too mischief-making to allow to sit in the back of the room. Mark was staring at her in an oddly serious manner, and in response to his intensely soulful expression, her throat suddenly went dry and tight. She could feel that rather than blushing, her blood was draining from her face, almost leaving her too weak to stand.
Fortunately, the other students were chattering and asking questions, and she was able to occupy her mind with the day's assignment and the establishment of order. It was not an easy thing to do, but she managed to slowly get control of herself by blotting out Mark Trenton's presence and concentrating on the remainder of her two-dozen charges.
Unfortunately, however, she unwittingly looked directly into the eyes of Joey Gore. He was leaning on his elbows, his chin resting in his hands, his eyes lewdly raking up and down over her body. She suddenly felt as if he was undressing her mentally, and she flicked her eyes away in burning shame… only to see the twisted, crude grin on Don Watson's face next to him. Even as she watched them, Watson leaned over and whispered something to Gore, and then they both broke into a meaningful series of suggestive snickers that brought the blood racing back to her cheeks.
Automatically, Miriam rapped her knuckles on the desk for silence, while in her mind loomed the appalling thought the perhaps they knew! Both husky young boys were maturely developed for their ages, and if Mark had bragged to them of what he'd done with her, they wouldn't laugh it off with childish disbelief. They would see the horrid truth behind his exciting, if fantastic, story! Oh God, what was she going to do if that was so? But maybe, she prayed, it was only her over-vivid imagination…
"Joey, please go to the blackboard," she heard herself say. "Diagram the sentence that I'll give you to write."
Gore rose slowly, grinning even more suggestively. "Sure thing, Mizz Dodge. I'm right proud to do anything you like for such a pretty teacher like you."
"Right on, man," Watson hooted derisively to his friend. "Show her how it's done!"
A low giggle rippled through the class, but Miriam's sharply brittle voice silenced it abruptly. "That will be enough!" she snapped. "And when Joey is finished, we'll just see how good Donald is on declining verbs."
Through sheer self-control Miriam had never known she possessed before, she painfully lasted through the inner throes of her shame and fear for the rest of the class period!
And the balance of that day, and the following few days… Miraculously, things began to look a little better for the miserably haunted woman by the day of the Freshman-Sophomore dance. She could look back over the week and say that the two young ruffians, Joey and Don, had been uncommonly quiet, and she'd been able to avoid a head-on meeting with both Mark Trenton or his father, Roger. She was even beginning to feel an initial degree of peace of mind almost too good to last.