Lonnie Carmel stared morosely into her coffee cup. The silence of the house was oppressive to her ears, its emptiness a sacrilege to her eyes. It was always thus during the week, in that magical hour or so between the end of the housework chores and the entrance of her daughter, home from school. But with the knowledge that she was without her husband for another fortnight, Lonnie sensed that the house was like a tomb; still as death and just as vacant.
She sighed, wondering whether it was worth saving the special steak fromage she'd prepared for Roger, or if she should throw it away as carelessly as it seemed to her that her errant husband was discarding their marriage. A tear welled in one eye; she blinked rapidly and it rolled down her cheek and poised uncertainly by her trembling jaw.
Her thoughts were stilled when the front door burst open and Jennifer came in. She was a little breathless and her face was a soft crimson. "Hi, Mom," she cried out happily. "I ran from the bus stop because of the rain. Whoo-ee! Anything to eat?"
"I'll fix dinner soon," Lonnie said woodenly.
"You look sad, Mom," the daughter said, frowning slightly. "What's the matter?"
"N-nothing," Lonnie said haltingly. "Nothing at all."
Jennifer, concerned, put her books on the dinette table and sat down beside her mother. "Yes there is, I can tell it."
"It's… it's just that your father had to go on another trip."
"Today?" Jennifer was shocked: her father had just gotten home this morning! "You mean he's left again, today?"
"Yes," came the whisper.
Mother and daughter sat in glum-filled sadness. The pall of quiet engulfed them; a sound-proof cloak effectively sealing their separate thoughts even from being shared between them. After awhile, the daughter said: "I think it's a crime. Daddy's never home."
"It seems that way at times," her mother agreed. "But we have to remember that he's doing it for us."
"You say that, Mom, but you don't believe it."
Lonnie winced inwardly at the telling remark. It was hard to be coldly analytical in a situation as emotion-fraught as this. She had to remember, though, that it wasn't good to display her marital troubles in front of Jennifer. It only hurt the family needlessly, and certainly didn't help solve the problem. She tried to smile, it came out forced and shallow. "Well…" she said, "well, we can't just sit around and cry in our soup, can we?"
Jennifer remained sullen. Mothers were one thing, and she loved hers very much. But Jennifer had always been "Daddy's little girl", and she felt drawn to him strongly. When she worked hard in school, it was to make Dad proud of her; when she had a problem, it was to Dad that she went; when she thought about the man she would marry someday, the image came out to look like Dad. It was the natural, common Oedipus complex in female garb – nothing serious or especially unhealthy – but a source of frustration and anger when Dad was away.
Roger Carmel never dreamed how much his family really loved him. They would do anything for him, and might not have recognized how well he'd succeeded as a mate and parent. The Olisses did. They were counting on it, in fact.
"Tell you what, Jennifer," Lonnie said, a little more sprightly, now that she had something to do to keep her mind occupied, "I'll whip up a batch of pancakes. Norwegian ones; you always like them."
"Sure. Fine." Jennifer remained unmoved.
"Then we'll go to the movies, if you like."
"I don't feel like going out. Thanks anyway."
Lonnie glanced over at her offspring, wondering how to snap her teenage daughter out of the blue funk she was in. She chastised herself again for being as maudlin as she'd been when Jennifer had first come home. Her moroseness has transmitted itself, and she felt, as a mother, the burden of responsibility.
Her considerations were interrupted by the ringing of the door chimes. Now who could that be?
"I'll get it," Jennifer said, and rose. She wasn't overly quick about it, though she wasn't dragging her feet; merely disinterested and sluggish with sadness. She was surprised when she answered the door to find the Oliss women standing on the porch. "Why… Tamera! And Mrs. Oliss!"
"Mind if we visit, Jennifer?" Mrs. Oliss said sweetly. "Tam and I are without our man, just like you two. We thought we'd at least make it a lonesome foursome."
"Of course," Jennifer said, standing back so they could enter. "Come on in. Mom was fixing dinner."
"Oh, well if she's busy…"
"Not at all, Cylvia," Lonnie said, coming out of the kitchen and wiping her hands on a towel. "I hadn't really started yet. Coffee?"
"Sounds wonderful. Unless I can plead for a drink instead."
"Of course. Scotch and ginger? I'll join you."
"Got a Coke, Mrs. Carmel?" Tam said, the picture of adolescent respectability. If only Lonnie and Jennifer could have seen inside the girl's mind, read her evil and depraved thoughts, they wouldn't have been so glad to see her or her mother. But all they saw were the facades, and as a result, Lonnie and Jennifer were pleased and relieved to have them here. It was easier to share the depression with four people than with two, especially when the others were in the same boat.
Jennifer and Tamera went into the teenager's room, and within seconds the house reverberated with the sounds of rock music, the latest "top ten" singles.
Tamera, like her mother, was naturally blonde, but she'd let her hair grow long and combed it in that tangled, careless look as if she'd been in a convertible all day, driving with the top down. She had a little stubby nose, freckles across its bridge, and her greenish eyes were more cat-like and devilish than her mother's. Her pert breasts were twin small, firm cylinders, tapering from their swollen moorings to cherry-nippled crests. They bobbed invitingly as she jumped onto Jennifer's bed, and she purposely sat in such a way that her short skirt hiked past her thighs and Jennifer couldn't help but see the shadowed white band of molded panties between her legs.
A secret tingle went through Tamera's nerves, making her breasts electric and her pubescent vagina secrete little droplets of fluid. Her mother had told her what she wanted done, told her and Vic when he had driven Tam home from school and dropped in for a drink. Get Jennifer Carmel! Get her naked and hungry for her first taste of cock! She shivered with forbidden delight and one area of her mind dwelled on what was in store for her younger friend if everything went right tonight. The other portion of her brain was doing the talking, worming Jennifer around to accepting the initial stage of her seduction…
"I can't stay for long, Jennie," Tamera said, outwardly sad-faced. "Vic's invited me to a party."
"Oh?" Jennifer tried to conceal her obvious disappointment. If it wasn't her father, it was her friend who was deserting her. "Gee, I'd sort of hoped you could stay. I mean, your mom and mine will be talking for hours. I'll have nothing to do." She averted her eyes from the uncovered loins of Tamera's lithe body and changed a record. "What kind of party is it?"
"A real fab one. Most of the foxy guys from the football team," Tamera said conspiratorially. "If word leaked out about the drinking and… things, they'd be dismissed from the squad!" She almost made a slip; the time wasn't right to tell the innocent virgin girl what the other "things" would consist of. "It's going to be outa sight!"
"Wow!" Jennifer breathed with envious excitement.
"Vic's going to pick me up here at nine." She lowered her head, now looking contrite. "I'm sorry about it, Jennie. I know how you were counting on us keeping each other company tonight."
"Yeah, well I can understand."
"If there was some way you could come along…"
"Forget it. I'd just be in the way." She picked a cuticle. "You go and have a real nice time."
There was a long moment of silence – or as much silence as could be had when the record player was screaming out "yah, yah, yah, yah, yahhhhhh!" Then a small smile began an Tamera's lips. She said: "Wait a minute! Maybe we can get you along!"
"How?"
"That is… if you really want to go."
"Sure I do. You don't think I want to stay around Dullsville tonight, do you?"
"It might get a little… rough."
Tamera's warning only whetted the natural curiosity and the refusal in Jennifer to admit she wasn't "grown-up" enough; she jutted her jaw forward and said defiantly, "Don't worry about me none. I won't faint or something."
"Well, promise me you'll not panic, no matter what you see." She saw nervousness and indecision in Jennifer's eyes, so she hastily added, "Not that you have to do any of it." She didn't say what the "it" was – better not scare the poor virgin off entirely. Anyway, Tamera knew Jennifer well enough to know that the younger teen-ager's imagination would fill in some of the gaps, and would only entice her more than if she was told everything. "Just don't start making a scene. Act as if you're part of it like everyone else, and not a wet blanket." She smiled again wickedly. "That is, if you don't care for some of the action. What the hell, you might; I sure do."
"Sure I promise, Tam," Jennifer said hurriedly, her throat parched with excitement. "What do you take me for, a kid? I won't embarrass you any. You'll see. But how'll you fix it so I can go?"
"Well, we'll have to get you a date."
"But I'm not going with anybody. Besides, you said the guys are from the football team, and they're all going with girls now."
"Stan Lubin isn't. He broke off with Marsha Dixon last weekend, up at the mountains. Didn't you know?"
"Jeez! 'The Slam'?" Jennifer spoke in awe of the team's star fullback. His size and offensive determination had earned him the monicker of Stan 'The Slam' Lubin. He was Vic's buddy, and next to Vic, was the school's biggest athletic hero. "You think you could get me a date with Stan?"
"I can't promise, but I'll call Vic and see if he'll talk to Stan. If we do swing it, that's even more reason for you to be a sport. He doesn't cotton to sissies."
"For Stan," Jennifer said, stars twirling in her eyes, "I'd do most anything."
"We'll see," Tamera said under her breath. Then to Jennifer she said: "Let's go ask your mother if it's all right first, and then I'll call Vic."
Lonnie Carmel was ambivalent to the request. On one hand she saw the excitement in her daughter, and wanted to make her happy. But Jennifer was so young for such things. And besides, that would leave her home all alone, which was the last thing on earth the wanted to be faced with tonight. She shook her head. "I… I don't know, Jennifer."
"Aw, Mom! Please!"
"I'm sure Jennifer will be quite safe," Mrs. Oliss offered. "If I had any doubts, I'd never allow Tamera to go. But Vic's a good boy, and from the little I've met of Stan Lubin, he's been very polite and well mannered." She had a very hard time keeping a straight face, saying that garbage. Cylvia Oliss had first hand knowledge that Stan Lubin had gained his nick-name from his way of fucking girls as much as from ho football techniques. The third worst person to entrust a young naive virgin with was Stan Lubin in her estimation; Vic and her husband being the first and second, and not necessarily in that order.
"I'll keep an eye on her, Mrs. Carmel," Tamera sad. Damned right I will. I love watching 'The Slam' in action.
"Yes, but…"
"Tell you what," Mrs. Oliss said, as if suddenly struck with a thought. "Let the girls go out, and we'll go out, too. I think we deserve a dinner and a couple of drinks, after the way Martin and Roger deserted us."
"Sure, Mom, that sounds swell. You haven't been out for ages."
Lonnie had drunk three scotch and gingers, and her mind wasn't quite as sharp as it was normally… The liquor had relaxed her, made her feel as if life was worth living a little. Maybe going out for a dinner instead of slaving over the stove wasn't a bad idea; Lord knew she had earned a break.
"If I know Martin, he's lounging in the cocktail bar right now, lapping up martinis and ogling the girls," Cylvia continued. "Acting like he wasn't married, and he's just like all other men when they're away from home. Huh!" she sniffed, as if outraged at masculine games. "We ought to have the same privileges. We ought to have a night out once in a while to act as if we were the girls' ages again, without responsibilities."
"A dinner and a drink would sound nice," Lonnie said, already half convinced that she should go out and it would be entirely innocent. That nothing would happen. That Roger would approve if he knew what she was considering. That made her think of Roger, and the insidiously implanted suggestion of Cylvia's made her imagine Roger sitting beside Martin at the cocktail bar. Well, she would go, and damn the consequences – of which she was, sure there would be none. She and Cylvia were both adult and mature – and two unescorted women this day and age were not considered bad as they had been in her mother's time.
"I'm convinced," she said giddily. "Jennifer, if you promise to be good, and if Vic's friend wants to take you to the pity, then I'll let you. And you, Mrs. Oliss, will have the pleasure of escorting Mrs. Carmel to a steak dinner and drinks a little later on."
"Excellent!" from Cylvia.
"You're swell, Mother!" from Jennifer.
"I'll call Vic," from Tamera.
The phone call was pure fraud. A bald-faced con to convince the Carmel mother and daughter that this was all spontaneous. In fact, it had been carefully laid out before-hand; even 'The Slam' and his girl, Marsha, with whom he hadn't broken up with at all, were in on it. They hadn't been told why the alteration in Jennifer's virginal status was desired; Vic and Tamera had merely told them they had thought it up as the evening's entertainment highlight, a new twist to the usual alcohol and marijuana and sex kicks. They thought the forced seduction of Little Miss Carmel was one grand joke.
The result was that Tamera went through the motions of asking and arguing and hearing the I-don't-knows and I'll-have-to-check-and-call-you-back. The wait of fifteen minutes had been added as a special, exquisite form of psychological torture to insure that Jennifer was fully ensnared, wanting the date more and more with each passing second.
Cylvia got up, and as a long-time and trusted friend of the Carmel family, made herself and Lonnie another drink. She liberally laced Lonnie's with scotch, and added some vodka for good measure. What she had in store for Mrs. Carmel was going to take all the help she could get, and having her friend drunk would "grease the runway", to use a phrase of her father's.
Then the phone rang, and Tamera answered it. She attentively listened to Vic tell her what he was planning to do with his cock to her that night, and then she put the receiver down and turned to Jennifer. With a solumn tone she said what she had known all along: "Stan says he'll take you."
Stan leaned over the back seat of the car and said to Vic: "Any juice kicking around?"
Tamera giggled and turned her head. She smiled at Stan. "Can't wait for the party, huh?"
"Hell, that's a half hour's drive away yet," Stan complained. "Gotta have something to prime my engine before then."
Vic laughed. "Sure. I could use a pull myself. Reach in the glove compartment, Tam, and get the bottle."
Tamera did; she unstoppered a refilled Coke bottle and took a stiff swallow. She sputtered, and her throat worked, and then she handed the bottle to Vic. "Wow! That stuff's good!"
"Yeah," Vic said. He took his eyes off the road long enough to drink. The large convertible weaved erratically for a moment, throwing Jennifer off balance, and against Stan. The rugged football player put one arm around her so that she couldn't regain her position, and when Tamera took the bottle from Vic and handed it to Stan, he offered it first to the young teenager. "Here," he said with a grin, "ladies first. Just don't hog it."
Jennifer hesitated.
"What's the matter?" Stan frowned. "You drink, don't you?"
"Sure, I do," Jennifer said stoutly. She was bluffing and hoped that it wasn't too obvious. She wondered if she wasn't talking herself into a bad future position, for anything over a glass of wine gave her the woozies, but Tamera had kept repeating that this was her big chance to get in with the "in" crowd around school, and she couldn't afford to be childish or stubborn…
The fifteen-year-old virgin tilted the Coke bottle and a warm, sweet liquid filled her mouth. She could taste the tinge of bourbon or whisky – she didn't know which, just that it wasn't vodka or gin or stuff like that – and a syrupy flavor like raspberry or strawberry soda. It wasn't bad, not bad at all, and she took another drink before handing it to Stan. She drank again…
Stan Lubin and Vic Statler had come to collect the girls promptly at nine in Vic's Pontiac Bonneville, and after introductions and a few minutes of conversation, they and the girls had left. Stan almost made Jennifer giddy from the start. He was too much! He was going to be eighteen in the Spring, and looked at least a year older. He had long brown hair, combed back and around his collar, was six-foot-two, slim waisted, his shoulders and arms bulging with muscles. His face was pleasant, average, as ordinary as the clothes he wore: levi's, sweater, and loafers.
Stan pulled the girl close to him, hugging her, and for an instant, he scared Jennifer. Things were certainly happening fast! They were driving from one end of Rapier City, where Jennifer lived, right through the town to the hills on the other side. It was up in the desolate hills, at the end of an old, dead-end road that the party was going to be held. And they'd barely gone two miles before the bottle of liquor had been brought out and Stan and she were in the back seat cuddling!
Stan let his hand dangle gently over her shoulder, his fingers brushing softly against the tip of her breast. He smirked to himself as he thought of the way she had guzzled the booze – leave it to an inexperienced girl to get drunk before anybody else, not having the faintest idea what the liquor can do or when to slow down. He was growing more confident by the moment that the lewd and obscene things in store for this tender virgin were going to happen – tonight! – just as planned. Man, once she reached the stage of helpless submission he was going to turn Jennifer every way but inside out, and maybe he'd find a way for that, too. She'd know what fucking was all about when he finished with her! When he and all the others finished with her!
With a suddeness which bespoke his nickname, Stan crushed his lips on Jennifer's unsuspecting mouth, grinding wetly, and the girl moaned and struggled for one moment, panicked, feeling his hand on her breast, tenderly cupping the soft, resident mound.
"Hey, baby," Stan crooned, "I really like you, you know?" He felt his "date" jump slightly as she heard his lying words. He held her tighter, pressing his hands once more against the palpitating hardness of her nubile breast. She'd never before been this drawn to a boy, never believed that a kiss or a caress could be so exciting. She wanted Stan to like her, wanted him to take her as his girlfriend. Boy! Wouldn't that be a coup! She shivered, and the alcohol seemed to effuse through her system. She pressed her thighs tightly together to control a peculiar tickle which was worming its way through the sensual valley between her legs.
Stan Lubin pressed his attack, massaging her breast. He could feel the tiny, bud-like nipples harden under the thinness of her brassiere. Jennifer knew that she was going to have to stop him soon before things got out of control. She squirmed, trying to move his fingers away without him noticing and her short skirt hiked up over her hips. Her thighs were naked and she could almost see the white crotchband of her panties down between her legs.
She blushed furiously and tried to pull her skirt down. Stan stopped her. "Let it be, Jennie baby," he murmured. "You've got nice legs so don't hide them. You ain't got nothing between yours that I don't know all about!"
That brought a shriek of laughter from Tamera and a furious blushing from Jennifer. The young girl felt hot, but not wanting to let Stan think she was square, she didn't move her skirt. She leaned against Stan and nuzzled his chest affectionately.
Yeah, Stan thought, this one may be a virgin, but she'll be one hell of a hot box when I really turn her one, just like Vic promised. His cock swelled in his pants as he looked down between her thighs. He felt himself getting blazing hot, the tension grinding his loins, his testicles aching to be released…
He'd have to take it slow, he knew. Slow and easy and not scare the girl. First time's the big one, he realized, having melted many a cherry in his day. The heavy car sped through the night, toward the rendezvous with Jennifer's destiny, and all that the foursome inside acted like was as if this was just another night out, another date, an evening to laugh and joke and sip from the Coke bottle…
The party was in full swing when they arrived. They had to park the Pontiac down the hill, the last of a line of other cars which had gotten there before them. The house was actually more of a summer cabin; it was a small retreat belonging to the parents of one of the boys attending, a small place facing the undeveloped Guadalupe Canyon and the flatlands beyond. By turning around and staring at the black hills behind, the glimmer of distant Rapier City could be seen at their crest, their fusion of lights shining above like an Aurora Borealis. The bottle of liquor was empty and discarded when they stopped; Tamera was mellow and giggly, but Jennifer was half stumbling from the unaccustomed potion, and she allowed Stan to help her over the rough gravel road to the house.
Music spilled out as they opened the door, hot blow of smoky air and laughter hitting the cool air and damp drizzle of the Autumnal night. Jennifer laughed for no particular reason, just that she was empathetic to the swinging crowd. She allowed Stan to kiss her at the entrance, and then again, harder and longer. His hot moist lips seemed to be her world at that point, her alcohol fuzzed by not totally aware of too many other things at the same time, and she almost fell over from the spark of electricity which invaded her stomach.
"All right!" yelled one of the boys from inside. "Break it up, you two!"
Blushing again, Jennifer and Stan, followed by Vic and Tamera, entered the golden glow of the livingroom. She knew the others from school, and they all acted pleased and as if she truly belonged to the select group of high school students. There was George Slade and his steady girl, Gloria Talbot; Sanders, one of the ends, and Beverly Harland; Greg Mothra and Anita Funabass, one of the cheerleaders; Ken King and his girl, Fay Raye; and the last couple, Gene Rogers and Dale Butram.
The quartet wended their way through the crowded room, talking and joking with the others. Somebody pressed a drink into Jennifer's hands and almost unconsciously she found herself sipping it as she talked. The cool liquid felt good, dispelling some of the heavy, dense air of the room, but adding to the warmth inside her. And it helped her seem more at ease, for she was still very nervous and afraid, intent on making a good impression on Stan and Vic, and yes, on everybody else. She knew that Tamera had gone out on a limb for her, and she didn't want anything to hurt either her girlfriend's popularity, much less her own entrance into the social whirl that up to now she'd only heard about.
Eventually they found some space on one of the long, low, overstuffed couches. The room was rustic in decor, with hanging "kerosene" lanterns and a large brick fireplace and exposed beam ceilings. The walls were of knotty pine and Currier amp; Ives prints, and the furniture was the heavy masculine version of Early American. She rubbed the craved maple arm of the couch to wipe some of the sweat from her palm. The boys left them for a moment, and disappeared.
Tamera leaned over and whispered, "You're doing fine, Jennie. I'm really proud of you. Just keep it up."
Jennifer's heart was like a trip hammer inside her chest. "I am?" She sipped her drink, her throat suddenly parched. "Oh, I hope so."
"Vic and Stan will be right back; relax and enjoy the evening." Tamera was interrupted by Ken King, who jovially spiked their drinks from a bottle of brandy. It changed the taste – not unpleasantly so – and the effects. Jennifer found the glow was still there, but a strange giddiness began to pervade her. She should have had more for dinner than she had had, but she'd lost her appetite with all the excitement of going out with Stan Lubin, and had barely been able to choke down a half can of spaghetti and meat-balls. Now, she had to squint her eyes to see any distance, and to focus on Ken as he made conversation. It struck her then: Ken King was talking to her! Why, up till now, he'd not even nodded to her in the halls! She glanced around at the others when Ken moved on; seeing with reasonable clarity the groups of threes and fours scattered around the sofas, chairs, and on the floor. Rogers and the Butram girl were at the fireplace now, putting together a fire. He was laying the logs across the andirons while Butram stood beside him and handed the kindling and paper as he needed it.
"Want another stick of wood, Gene?" she asked.
"Naw, just gimme the matches now." He lit the fire, and soon it was sending a cheery blaze into the room. They doused the lights, and everybody became shadows and figurines in the flickering radiance.
Jennifer became aware then that Vic and Stan had returned, and she settled back, warm and snug and heavy with sedation from the powerful drinks. Stan curled his arm around her and made her lean back against the cushions with him. "More like a bed, isn't it?" he said.
"Yes… yes, I guess it is," Jennifer said, a slight stutter in her voice.
"Here," Stan said, and pressed a cigarette into her hand. She looked at it; it was like no other cigarette she'd ever seen! It was hand-rolled in a brownish paper. He grinned at her. "Light-up," he urged.
Jennifer had the sinking suspicion what the brownish cigarette was made of. Marijuana! She quivered with indecision, for she was afraid of what the drug might do to her – she'd heard too many stories and lectures from adults – but she was just as afraid of screwing up this good fortune she'd been having. She looked over at Tamera for guidance, for help. Tamera was already lighting up her cigarette, her eyes shut, oblivious to her girlfriend's plight.
"What's the matter," Stan growled, "aren't you hep?"
"I-I never smoked one before," Jennifer blurted, and then felt like biting her tongue. How uncool could she be? She wished she hadn't drunk so much out of the Coke bottle and then the glass in her other hand; she wasn't thinking clearly and was awfully warm, and there was a weight preying down on her forehead and eyes.
"A little grass never hurt anybody," Tamera said, exhaling. "Don't worry so much, Jennie."
"Ah, I knew we shouldn't have brought a kid here," Vic taunted with a sneer. Jennifer blanched with the direct punch of his contempt. Rebellion and resentment made her place the cigarette between her lips with defiance. A child, was she!
"Go on," Stan urged. "Let me light it for you. Once you're a little high, you'll feel things you never felt before." He drew out his lighter and trembling slightly, Jennifer allowed him to light it for her. She drew in heavily, and then coughed.
"Oh, for Christ's sake," Vic said disgustedly. "What a waste of good grass."
"Let her alone," Tamera said. "She'll learn. Try again, Jennie. Hold the smoke in your lungs."
The second puff was easier, and the naive young girl held the sour-sweet smoke down until she thought she'd burst. She exhaled, looked around with a smile of triumph, only to see she was behind the others, who were all busily inhaling their joints. She continued to follow suit, and by the end of the marijuana cigarette, she began to float.
Jennifer had never felt better in all her born days. She was happy and carefree, without a worry in the world. She felt a comradeship with everyone in the room, and she laughed and talked and laughed some more. Everything seemed so funny all of a sudden.
Stan gave her another smoke, and then reminded her that her drink was going stale. "How's it going, baby?" he asked.
"Like I'm on the moon!" Jennifer said breathlessly.
"Christ, there's so much smoke in here that I could get stoned without a cigarette," Tamera said. She cuddled in the protective arms of Vic. "Kiss me," she demanded of her boyfriend. "Kiss me hard…"
There was a long pause and then Jennifer heard the unmistakable rustling of clothes as Tamera and Vic settled back against the couch in a passionate embrace. There were the soft, wet sounds of their kissings and moanings, and the teen aged girl tried hard to avert her eyes from the petting so close at hand. But as she turned away, she found that instead of being horrified by the sensual display so openly being performed beside her, she was becoming aroused, and her breasts ached slightly with excitement. Jennifer was too close in her friendship with Tamera Oliss not to be drawn by the building, writhing apassionata, and the knew instinctively that she was approaching her own danger point from which there was no return if passed.
She looked around the cabin, and her eyes bulged as she saw the others in wild tableaus of sex. She'd been to spin-the-bottle and post-office type parties before – but nothing quite as blatant as this! Why… why in the firelight she couldn't be sure, but wasn't Slade moving underneath Gloria's blouse, molding his hand to her breasts? And… and Anita! She had her legs splayed wide and Greg Mothra was rubbing her clothed genitals, causing her to moan lasciviously in his ear. My God!
How far would they go? All the way? Jennifer felt a sudden chill hit the pit of her belly. No… no that was impossible, not with everybody here. Maybe alone the couples might, but even that was one of those things she found embarrassing to think about. The picture of any of them – of Jennifer herself – being naked and displayed unabashed in front of everybody was shattering.
It was entirely out of the question, and she lulled her mind to security again with a long drink from the glass in her one hand, and a long drag on the marijuana cigarette in her other. She leaned against Stan, the delicious warmth of the liquor and drugs seeping through her veins. She'd never felt as deeply involved before in her life. But as she curled up with Stan and his hand once more closed over her breast, the touch of her panties and the cushions pressuring up between her thighs exciting her more and more each moment. Material bunched against her thighs and grazed the sensitive, virginal pink lips of her vagina. Tiny throbs of secret pleasure pulsed in the bud of her clitoris and she tried to hold them back.
But it was to no avail. The heat of the room, the lulling, sensual effects of the liquor and marijuana, the lecherous scenes of lust before her naive and innocent eyes were all too much to be swept away. Necking while watching a distracting motion picture, or outside her house with the threat of being caught by her parents was one matter. This pagan and completely uninhibited fulfillment of lusts was another, and it was working its debauching influence on the virgin teenager.
She couldn't resist the ever-building fire which swelled in her breasts, her loins, her vagina. No matter how hard she squeezed her thighs together, the flames of her flowering young pussy seethed and lashed with constant pressure. She moaned and squirmed, terrified that she wouldn't be able to control herself much longer.
Just as Stan knew she wouldn't.
Just as Tamera and Vic knew she wouldn't.
Just as everybody in the cabin knew she wouldn't – and they all waited impatiently for the trap to spring shut with a finality which would rip Jennifer Carmel from all her final moral moorings. They waited, beasts of carnivorous appetite, secretly gloating over what they were dead certain would soon be the hapless virgin's uncontrolled plunge into their own carnal world of hedonistic delight…