The music had stopped, and the crowd grew impatient until the amplifiers crackled and sizzled and far away in the distance, no one knew where, a sound became discernibly audible. Sitting near the stage, Robert jumped to his feet, his face a show of gleeful revenge. This was it! He slipped his tennis shoes back on, threw his shirt over his shoulder, and headed up the hill. It had cost him a lid of dope, but it would be worth it, just to show that smart-ass Jim that he was just a stupid, blundering fourteen year-old kid who'd do a job for five bucks only to be insulted.
If his guess was right, and he'd be willing to bet his last nickel on it, the sounds coming over that microphone would set the woods on fire!
Inside the cabin, Art had slumped to the ground once again, lying in a pathetic heap like a pile of old clothes. Jim looked at him with disgust, then went over to shake him by the shoulders.
"Where am I?" muttered Art, opening his eyes, blinking with the effort.
"Just don't want you to miss the show. Our star for the day is… Mrs. Art McGuire!" mimicked the blonde haired boy, feigning a microphone in his hand, gesturing as if on stage before a crowd, not realizing that thousands of people were indeed listening.
Art shook his head, wondering what had happened to him and why. How had they prevailed on Kathy to put on this obscene exhibition – and in front of him? It was the dope, he told himself… that damned marijuana. That's what was making his dear Kathy act like this. He had feared all along that she could be provoked to an outrageous sensuality, always had that streak in her, but this? It was beyond any nightmare he had ever imagined.
"Stop!" screamed Art, unable to watch any more of this humiliating display of disgust. "Immunity… I'll grant you immunity… anything, just don't rape my wife again!" He felt his knees buckling under him and closed his eyes. The whole room, the whole woods, the valley seemed to echo his own words. He chalked it up to anxiety, but continued his pleading. "I'll let you get off, anything you want… just let her go!"
Down in the valley, the crowd stopped its milling around, beer cans immobilized in mid-air, couples lying in embrace under trees sat up straight; everyone listened. Where was it coming from? The stage was bare, for it was in-between acts. It was a joke, it had to be a joke.
"How the hell do we know you're telling the truth?" returned Jim. "How do we know you won't turn the cops on us as soon as we leave?"
"My word," pleaded Art. "You have my word. There are witnesses… look they're five of us here…"
"But we wouldn't want to leave the little woman high and dry, now would we Art?" insisted Jim.
They drew numbers.
Jim was the first in line, unzipping his fly as he crossed the room. He bent over Kathy and whispered, "Come on, lady, do your stuff," taking her hand and guiding it to the jerking protuberance still hidden by the stiff cotton of his levis. "Take it out," he ordered, and Kathy drew forth his massive cock, feeling it stiffen in her clutch. She began to manipulate the foreskin, easing it back over Jim's now swollen cock, pulling it forward again. She ran her fingernail along the rigid flesh, along the vein the stood out beneath it, her fingernails scratching gently along its surface to send shocks of rapture through his loins, and Kathy rocked back and forth, massaging Jim's erect cock, thrilling to Jim's pleasure, responding to his every motion. Oh, she thought as she had before, I'm making him so happy. I am so happy. Everybody's happy but poor Art.
That made her want to cry; she loved Art so, and here she was, making everyone else happy and she couldn't do anything for her own dear husband. She continued to stroke Jim's cock with one hand while she wiped a tear from her eye with the other.
"Ooooh, does that make you happy, Jim?" she cooed.
The valley roared with laughter.
And Mark, too, she thought, looking up to see him standing beside her. Without waiting to be asked, she reached out and herself unzipped Mark's fly, drawing his thick cock out just as she had drawn out Jim's. With ecstatic little mewls of pleasure that sounded like a cat in heat, she caressed it, too, into a hard, erect mass of flesh.
She struggled to sit up, but Mark pushed her back on the pillow, then knelt over her, his legs straddling her shoulders. "Take it in your mouth," he ordered, as she continued to stroke his rigidly pulsating hardness. "Come on, Kathy, suck it!" His voice sounded harsh and gruff, unlike the gentle, mild-mannered Mark who'd picked her up… when was it they went for that nice bike ride?
Without a murmur, Kathy opened her lips to receive the tip of his stiff, swollen cock, closing her mouth around it, clasping it, sucking it in, her cheeks hollowing as she did so. She ran her tongue around the throbbing head, felt the tiny opening that capped it, licked it gently at first, then more roughly, as tiny droplets of a thick, viscous fluid dribbled out. She ran them over her tongue, savoring their acrid taste before she swallowed them. Now she ran her tongue along the ridge beneath the one named Mark's wetly burning cock, and an electric shock seemed to go through his body, jolting him convulsively. "God, this little bitch sucks cock good," he groaned out loud. She was the best!
He arched his back, withdrawing his thick, piston-like cock, then with a sharp, sudden motion, rammed his fourteen year old, still maturing, cock deep inside Kathy's mouth, thrusting it back almost to her throat.
She gasped at the unexpected violence of the movement, then fought for breath. She caught it as Mark withdrew again, beginning to fuck in and out of her roundly ovalled lips, the countable pubic hairs surrounding his loins grazing the tip of her nose, while his chestnut-sized balls swung back and forth and smacked against her chin with a loud, resounding slap. Kathy increased her mouthing on Mark's cock, grinding down hard on the fleshy instrument that filled the hot, wet cavern of her mouth. One hand snaked around his slender hips, slipped beneath the top of his pants, and Kathy uttered a little cry of disappointment. Why hadn't he taken his clothes off? She was lying there without a stitch on, her slim, luscious young body exposed completely to him and Jim and, yes, all the rest who watched from the other side of the room – Art and Lydia.
Without stopping her feathery fingering of Jim's cock, she devoted her other hand to the struggle to strip Mark of his clothes. She wedged her free hand under his pants, wiggled them down as he rolled his hips to help. And then, they slid over it, slid it around to touch his balls, to tease them, gently squeezing them. She slid her hand on, her fingernails tickling the base of his pulsing cock, running along the underside of his prick as he withdrew it on the backstroke while he continued all the while the rhythmic fucking of her open mouth.
Mark could feel the boiling sperm building up in his scrotum, and a sideward glance at Jim's lust contorted face told him that his balls, too, were almost bursting, his loins aching with the excruciating excitement Kathy's hand imparted to his slipperily fucking cock. She held it tighter and tighter now, moving back and forth on it, manipulating it, milking it, drawing it down and releasing it, teasing, tantalizing with an expertness Jim would never have expected. My God! He couldn't stand it any longer, he thought, giving out a weird, harsh cry. Kathy felt his prick expand and contract in her hand, and then heard his helpless gasps of passion as the hot fluid spurted thickly and wetly in a wide arc, gushing like a boiling geyser onto her nakedly rippling stomach, then flowing down over the smoothness of her thighs, seeping hotly down between them like a searing stream of molten lava.
As Jim cried out, Mark's own grating shriek mingled with his voice, and his balls exploded, too. The crowd heard it all, as he shot his load of warm male semen into the soft, fleshy warmth of Kathy's hungry, expectant mouth. The young woman moaned, her body contracting and heaving rhythmically as her own moist juices seeped wetly from the walls of her cunt again, flowing forth to flood her pink slitted cunt in her own cascading orgasmic juices. Gulping desperately to keep from choking she greedily sucked at and swallowed the churning liquid that seemed to flow endlessly into her mouth, mewling with pleasure as she did so, fighting to hold every succulent drop within her mouth, licking hungrily at the few drops which trickled lewdly from he corners of her lips. As Mark's cock went limp and flaccid between her teeth, as Jim's collapsed within her hand, Kathy lay back, sperm covered, still, satiated, her eyes closed, her nakedly glistening young body motionless.
From across the room, Art had stared at the whole scene with a disbelief so great it came close to blotting out his disgust. His eyes bulged from their sockets, his face was red and apoplectic. The world whirled around him, making him feel dizzy, sick, as if he were standing at some great height, looking down into an abyss miles below. His fingernails clawed into the palms of his hands as he clenched his fists in agony and revulsion. He didn't care in the least; nothing physical could hurt him. His soul was scorched, withered by the sights he had been forced to endure. He no longer had reason to live, he told himself. The only thing in his life he held dear, had protected, that had never hurt him, had now destroyed him – his wife.
Below, in the valley, the uproarious had a new cause for excitement as they listened to a new character in the strange drama occurring somewhere close; no one knew where or who was involved. They thought it was a spoof, that someone was playing a record, a tape maybe, from a pornographic movie track.
Robert burst in the door of the cabin. "Well, I see you've been having a good time without me!" he grinned, stepping over Art's slumping hulk. "Everybody's had their piece of fun and now it's my turn."
No one protested, no one held him back.
Watching Robert stomp towards his wife, Art seemed to be in a state of shock, unable to move, unable to cry out, to protest; for Robert was unbuckling his belt as he did so, whipping down the zipper of his pants, pulling them down. He stood over the reclining Kathy, leering obscenely at her, "My turn, lady," he announced.
And then he squatted down by Kathy's bed, leaning over her, spreading her full, sperm-drenched thighs apart with his young hands. The pink slit of her pussy was exposed to full view, now, quivering and unbelievably coming to life again along its full, hair-fringed length. Robert drew his finger slowly, carefully, along the line of it, stroking it gently, searching out the tiny bud of her clitoris, coaxing it into a taut erection. Kathy gasped in delight at the welcome pleasure that sent little featherlike twitches spinning through her crotch, and on into the blood that coursed like a re-kindled wildfire through every vein she had. Robert felt her response and looked up into her face. "Good, isn't it?" he asked.
"Ooooh yesss," Kathy moaned, knowing nothing now but her mad desire for fulfillment. "I love your cock."
That brought a chorus of laughter from the crowd.
"Well, it's gonna get better," leered Robert, his eye on Jim. He smirked over his shoulder at Mark, too, and then he plunged his forefinger deep inside Kathy's warm, moistly palpitating cunt, worming it into the hilt, withdrawing, entering again. Oh, God, it felt good, Kathy thought, it felt so good she wished something so wonderful could happen to everyone. To Art, for example. And then she looked up to see that it was happening to Art. "Oh, look!" she chuckled. "Lydia's going to suck Art's cock now."
While Robert's finger moved in and out of her tight little cunt, finger fucking her, Lydia was on her knees before the unresisting Art, unzipping his pants and inserting her hand inside them, feeling under his shorts, and finally finding his soft, flaccid cock. She began to stroke it gently at first, then more vigorously, nursing it to life, until strength flowed mystically into it and it jerked upright.
Lydia drew it out then, holding Art's cock in her hand and then began to tease it, forcing the foreskin back, then running her finger along the tender underside of it. Kathy saw her husband's prick swell to enormous proportions – was that her straitlaced Art? she asked herself in amazement – then saw him begin to respond to Lydia's ministrations, moving back and forth as she clasped him tight, just as Jim had done when Kathy had held his prick in her own hand. And now Lydia was bending her head, taking Art's cock into her wide-open mouth, closing her lips around its tender flesh, sucking on it, her cheeks working madly as Art's shaft became rock hard, and began to fuck in and out of Lydia's widely ovaled mouth, shooting forward almost to her throat, retreating, entering again. The fear and anger combination he had felt such a short time before seemed to fade away, and Art began to feel nothing but ecstatic joy that Lydia brought to him. He shook his head, trying to sort things out for himself. For a moment everything seemed clear; he, Art McGuire was indulging in forbidden, perverted pleasures. And then it seemed that it was no longer forbidden, although no one could deny the pleasure of it, and Art relaxed and his pulsing cock moved in and out of the young girl's warm buttery mouth and he felt the churning in his loins, the dull, throbbing ache, and knew that this was the most important, the most exciting, the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him.
He looked over at his wife, and saw that she was doing just what Lydia was doing, sucking the desire swollen cock of some boy – Art had never seen him before. At the same time, Art saw that the boy was named Mark was between Kathy's legs now, his thick, hard cock moving against her pussy, parting her softly curling pubic hairs, then that Mark had taken his full hardened length in his hand and was guiding it forward, using the rubbery head to open wide the full fleshy lips of her cunt. Now the tip slipped through the tight, elastic opening, sliding along the smooth, moist cuntal hole, sinking in farther and farther, while Kathy opened her legs as wide as she could and pulled her thighs back to take this marvelous virile hardness deep up inside her hungrily waiting belly.
Art plunged forward into Lydia's mouth, withdrew, plunged in again, while shivers of ecstasy rippled through his whole body, and a strange, uninhibited wave of joy washed over him that he had never believed possible.
He glanced at Kathy again, and saw that still a third man, Jim was kneeling beside her; Jim had inserted his finger deep into Kathy's nakedly twitching anus, and she was swiveling around it, her hips rotated. She groaned as he thrust a second finger into the soft, warm depths, and then, as she became accustomed to the intrusion, fucked his hardened cock into her rectum as she began to moan and mewl with insane sounding pleasure.
The crowd loved it! The next band was setting up their equipment, ready to start; a hiss emanated from the crowd. They didn't want to hear music, they wanted to hear more of this strange story that was unfolded about their ears.
Art quickened his thrust into Lydia's all encompassing mouth, fucking into it hard and deep, his cock boring in to touch her throat, so that the girl choked and fought back, yet Art plunged on and on, aware that never in his life had he felt such thrills, such excitement. And Kathy was as dazzled and delighted as he, moving against the three men who invaded her in such diverse ways, screwing back against her fingers, their cocks, their tongues. He saw her begin to sway and rock in a wild erotic abandon, saw that the others moved with her, and realized that he, too, was caught in the grip of the same mad passion, moving with the others, swaying to their rhythm in some formalized, classic dance.
The ache in his loins became unbearable, the throbbing length of his rigid staff maddening beyond belief, and then, he heard Kathy's wild groans of passion, her repeated shout, "I'm cumming… Oh God, I'm cuuummming!" heard the ecstatic moans of the three boys, heard their panted, exhausted breathing as together they sent their hot, sticky semen spurting into all the openings of her hungrily accepting young body. As they did, Art could no longer hold back, no longer control himself. He, too, uttered a raucous, passion-filled cry, then sent his boiling white sperm spewing into Lydia's hungrily sucking fourteen year old mouth.
It seemed that everyone went limp then, lying back, while the whole world whirred around them. Art was the first to rouse himself from the torpor, to look at the others, to evaluate the situation. It was difficult for him to define; he only knew that everything had changed. He stared at the boys, his eyes roving over their slumped, inert bodies. They were still a bunch of stupid punks, he told himself, still a lot of dope-smoking dupes. Yet they had taught him something that they had known for a long time. They had taught him that he need not be ashamed of his passion, need feel no guilt – that it was a marvelous thing to experience what he had just felt.
Art sensed that he owed these kids something. They had, he knew already, changed the whole course of his life. They had shown him what life was all about, what happiness was, how he? Art McGuire, "uptight" and "strung out" as they would call it, could attain happiness with his wife.