Inside of the dust stuffy cabin, Jim, Lydia, and Mark were all growing impatient. They watched with envy the crowd filling the valley, wishing that they, too, could be down there listening to the music, drinking beer and smoking joints. They stared at each other and then back at Kathy.
Mark slumped against the wall, lifeless and worn; never having had a hangover before, he was convinced he was coming down with the flu. Gurgles and belches rumbled in his empty stomach and he took caution not to move too quickly, for fear last night's liquid dinner would become today's misery. He didn't have to stay, but he had his suspicions, especially after the way Jim had treated Robert, kicking him out like that. And it hadn't been fair, not a bit. After all the effort he'd gone through, he'd wait another couple of hours for his share of the dope.
"Well," sighed Lydia, with a grimace. "This is really a lot of fun, guys. We could sit and count each other's pubic hairs," she groaned with boredom.
"Hey, come on!" shot the blonde-haired leader. "You're the one who came in last night and pulled all your stunts, now just sit tight. If it's excitement you want, we still got a half lid of dope left. We could always give some to Mrs. McGuire here and watch her go crazy to fuck. Bet she'd like that…"
Kathy stiffened from her perch on the mattress. When would these children stop?
"We can't let her go until the connection is made," reasoned Jim, trying to placate his irascible girl friend. "Then, baby, it's fat city!"
"Yeah, well how long is that going to take?" pouted Lydia, sitting cross-legged drawing faces on the dusty floor with her index finger.
"Won't be long… here!" Jim threw her the plastic baggie half filled with dope. "Roll us a couple of numbers… it'll help pass the time."
Lydia obeyed, and handed a tightly rolled cigarette to Kathy who sat cowering in the corner. Kathy hesitated, then recalled the awful perversions of the night before, and accepted. It had not been so bad yesterday, she remembered; in fact the marijuana had had an alarmingly calming affect on her. Accepting it, Kathy inhaled deeply, letting the smoke swirl around her lungs as long as possible before blowing it out again; a strange feeling of peace and well-being came over her. She, oddly, was no longer frightened as she had been before, although it was obvious that she was in greater danger than ever. She was certain, though, through the drug she was taking, that nothing could touch her, nothing could harm her, and she was just as certain that, if she were threatened, she would have no desire to protect herself.
She was content simply to sit on the bed, staring at the mattress, counting the stripes that rippled across it. Even the music that filtered from the valley below took on a certain enjoyable rhythm, and she tapped her finger in time to it.
She heard her name called from somewhere outside, and although it was her husband, Art, it seemed to Kathy that it was the voice of the Angel Gabrielle, inviting her to enter a paradise here on earth. She noticed Lydia start at the sound of the voice; it seemed as loud to Kathy as a cannon shot – and then cup her hand to her ear as it was repeated. Kathy herself heard the words clearly, although they hardly registered. "Attention! Attention!" Art was bellowing. "You are surrounded by the police. We know that you are holding Kathy McGuire."
"What are we going to do?" spat Mark, with bloodshot eyes. A sinking feel, very real and very painful, welled in his stomach. He clasped his hand over his mouth, his cheeks reddening, and held his breath until the warmness subsided.
"Look!" hissed Jim, holding up his hand. "He has no idea who's in here holding his wife… it could be Chuck and his dealer friends, or a bunch of ladies at a lunch club. He's just guessing, he doesn't know. All we can do is fake him out. Just lay low," he gestured with his hands.
A delicate hand reached up to punch out the cardboard that held the glass pane in its ridged cell. In a low, gruff voice, Jim raised his head, just high enough to reach the hole. "Yes, we have Kathy McGuire in here as our hostage. She is unharmed and quite well." Hearing her name mentioned, Kathy grinned, smiled and nodded. "We will not let her go."
Art nodded. He felt slightly faint from the heat and the anxiety and the fear for Kathy that gnawed at him. All the thoughts that he'd had before came flooding back to his mind. Had she been forced to take dope by these wretched creatures, these dope dealers?
He had to get Kathy out of there… now!
He never thought it would come to this, but there was no choice. He would have to offer himself in exchange for Kathy; there was no other way. If he died, at least he would die knowing that Kathy realized how much he cared for her. Raising the bullhorn to his trembling lips, he boomed out his offer.
Jim, on the other side of the wall, grinned triumphantly. It worked! "Okay, here's what we do… when he comes in the door Lydia, you knock him over the head with that old lamp, and Mark, you tie up his hands. Got that?"
The two compatriots in crime nodded, staring at each other wondering if it was really worth it. Wouldn't the concert be more fun then being holed up here in this stuffy old cabin taking orders from Jim?
Jim called out his offer. "We accept your offer. Come out with your hands up and enter by way of the back door."
Art turned pale and bit his lips. An explosion of amplified sound shot up from the valley and Art ducked, certain it was gun fire. He gasped, released his clutch on the tree bough and rose to his feet. He walked mechanically, lifting one foot after the other, putting it down again, lifting it. The short stretch of space seemed to expand for miles and miles. The few minutes it took seemed like light years. Halfway across he paused, taking a deep breath to regain his composure. Then he walked on once more, slowly, steadily. Kathy would be waiting for him, just inside the door. As he entered, she would be allowed to leave. She would fall on her knees, kiss his feet, begging him to let her stay. But with firm resolve he walked on.
Art heard a new command: "Come in with your back to the door." Turning, he walked on once more. He had just about reached the doorstep now… one more step, he told himself, edging backwards.
Then everything went dark.
"Jesus, I said hit him not kill him!" sputtered Jim, watching the hulk of flesh crumble to the floor to lay in the shards of broken lamp glass. A small trickle of blood oozed from Art's forehead, directly above his eye. He moaned, trying to raise to his feet, then fell limp again.
"Good shot, huh?" beamed Lydia, standing over her prey triumphantly.
"Too good," scolded Jim. "Help me drag him inside so we can tie him up."
Lydia pulled on his legs, while Jim and Mark labored over his arms and chest. A buzz of activity hung over the moaning body, all except for Kathy, who sat on the bed, smoking another of the rolled cigarettes. Kathy stared at the three youngsters, thinking what wonderful, happy children they were, working so assiduously over the body of that man who fell backwards on the step. Wondering who it was, she craned forward, crawling over the mattress on all fours. She squinted into the sun. "Art!" she tittered gleefully. "What's Art doing here?" she asked the others.
"Jesus, she is loaded," giggled Lydia, holding Art's hands secure while Mark tied a rope around his wrists.
Kathy looked at Lydia and smiled, as she inhaled deeply on the sweet-smelling tobacco. It made everything seem so beautiful, she thought, so perfect. Nothing mattered except the warm, wonderful sensation of the moment. She wanted to share in it.
Art was alert now, though a bit groggy from the blow on his head. To soothe the laceration, he tried to raise his hands to massage the bump. He tugged, and for the first moment, realized he was tied.
Kathy started to giggle. "What's the matter, Art?" she teased. "Oh, don't be such a grouch," she scolded, playfully. "This is just a game, so don't look so serious."
Art squinted against the pain, his nose wrinkling, his mouth gaping open. What was wrong with Kathy? They'd drugged her… my God, his wife was smoking pot! The little bastards, the fucking little snots! He focused on the fuzzy-lipped teenagers working at the rope behind him, at the budding breasted young girl who leered down at him, whispering obscenities in his ears, just to taunt him. They were nothing but kids!
Kathy lay back on the mattress, waggling her hand back and forth at Art. She looked up with a start of pleasure. Jim was a beautiful young boy, she thought, Lydia was beautiful, life was beautiful, and she wouldn't for a moment have changed anything. "Hi," she said, again, grinning lopsidedly, her eyes squinting slightly to focus.
Mockingly, Mark turned. "Hi!" he grinned, waving back.
Kathy squinted dreamily at the others. Art was there, too, she saw. But how marvelous that was. Everything was wonderful! Jim – and in her confused, drugged state, the memory of Jim's hands on her naked body sent her soaring – Jim was here! And Art. And Mark. And Lydia. And everybody! She puffed the cigarette again, inhaling deeply. And when Jim moved forward, walking towards the mattress, she grinned up at him and offered him her joint.
The blonde-haired leader of the gang took one long look at Art, then his wife. It was all over for him anyway… the five pounds, the accomplishments and failures of his first real job. He might as well make the best of it.
He moved forward, then sat down on the mattress, one eye on Art who sat slumped against the wall, struggling to make sense of what was transpiring. He remembered he'd come here to save his wife… but his wife was in no danger, yet.
Jim plopped down next to Kathy, pulling her brutally to him. She giggled, responded with an unearthly thrill. Her entire body tingled with anticipation of the pleasure to come when Jim fucked her again as she knew he was going to do… yes, that was the word – fucked her – just the way he had before, her mouth… her cunt.
Without a word of protest, she let Jim ease his hands under the loose cloth of the dress she was wearing, slipping it down, unbuttoning the front of it so that Kathy sat there before all the world with her lovely rounded white mounds of her breasts thrust out like twin moons, hanging suspended in the open air. There was a burst of applause from the group sitting on the floor, mingled with a groan of fury and agony from Art, and then Jim's hand slid down across the tender, pointed breasts to Kathy's slim waist, moving back and forth gently, caressing the pale skin.
Slowly, patiently, he traced the deliciously rounded orbs of her buttocks under the panties she wore, torn down the sides from his previous assault. He stroked her lightly, casually, and then the fingers found the smooth white cleft between her buttocks, traced the line of it – down, down – thrust forward between her legs, spreading them wide, found the petal-pink slit of her cuntal lips, and caressed them, too, before retreating at last.
Once again, Jim traced the thin, fuzz-lined furrow of Kathy's buttocks, moved between the rounded cheeks of her ass. This time, though, he paused at the tiny puckered opening of her anus and smilingly wormed the tip of a finger in while Kathy grunted softly in unexpected discomfort, then withdrew it quickly, with a dry little sucking sound. Art, watching a few feet away, let out a shriek that sounded like a wounded bull and then made a final, desperate attempt to break away, to rescue Kathy. The ropes held him tight.
Now Jim ripped the remains of Kathy's underwear, tearing the thin elastic bands away from her panties, they tumbled to the floor, mattress.
Across the room, Mark sucked in his breath at the sight of Kathy McGuire's nude body. My God, she was gorgeous. He'd never seen a woman with such delicacy, and such sheer beauty. She was far more beautiful than any of the girls at school. Mark smiled in appreciation. It was Jim's turn now, but his time would come.
He watched, spellbound as Jim placed his hands on the young naked wife's ripe, full breasts, pressing his thumbs and forefingers against the tiny little buds of her nipples, rolling them into a tight erection. Mark felt his prick jerk inside his pants as he anticipated his turn.
Now Jim's hands roved down Kathy's body, caressing the firm flesh of her gently swelling belly, moving on to explore the mass of red, softly curling pussy fleece between her legs. Kathy lay transfixed in her drugged haze, a rising tide of passion surging through her at the delicious touch of the young boy's fingers and the palm of his hand. Tingling with excitement, she opened her knees so that Jim could stroke her thighs and run his hands down the outside of her thighs, over them, spreading them further apart in a slow, methodical movement, running his hands up and down the tender pink flesh of her inner thighs.
Kathy whimpered in ecstasy, and then drew her legs together in shocked surprise as the warm air blew from the open door across the narrow cuntal slit. Again Jim spread her thighs wide, and now his hand slipped closer to her pinkly glistening pussy, gently parting the sensitive fleece-lined lips while Kathy closed her eyes, head hanging backward, gasped with pleasure. She felt the surging desire flowing through her whole body, but converging there, a wild, throbbing sensation that was beyond her control, a desire that turned her narrow cuntal hole into a hot, seeping tunnel of moisture. She groaned softly and lifted her feet up with heels far apart on the edge of the bed and presented the whole of her naked pussy to his lewdly gaping eyes.
Now Jim's finger wormed tenderly into the wetness of it, and Kathy's entire being tingled. He probed deeper, fingering the fleshy lips, withdrew to find the hard, taut bud of her clitoris. He stroked that, too, gently, until Kathy responded with a sudden spasm of delight and sensuous grinding of her buttocks that was visible to all the onlookers.
She remembered them in some dim way, their faces merging with the bright colors and sweet sounds which were the setting for the marvelous sensations she felt, and the music, too. She turned her head to see Art.
She loved him so much, she knew. But he seemed angry. Now why would he be angry? How could anyone disapprove of anything as wonderful as this? Kathy brushed the question aside, lying back now, as Jim's finger eased gently into her hotly steaming cunt, probing deeper and deeper into her moistly welcoming cunt. She moaned and tossed beneath him, then with a sudden movement threw her arms up around his neck, as she began to rotate her hips against his searching finger.
She caught sight of Art's face again, bright red now with fury, with shock at her acceptance. I'll make it up to him, she promised herself. I'll explain, and he'll understand; we always communicated well. He loves children, so I'm sure he must love Jim, too. And I know he loves me. He won't be angry when I tell him that.
She held Jim closer to her, but there was something wrong – something awfully wrong. She didn't know what it was at first and then it dawned on her that Jim's young body, that should feel soft and fresh and warm, was scratchy. She focused her eyes on him, puzzled, and then it hit her that he was still clothed.
It half spoiled the fun. She began to rip the buttons off his shirt, but when her limp fingers slid around them, she reached for the zipper of his pants. That was easier, she found. She pulled and something snapped; she pulled on the metal tab and they rustled open; then she put her hand inside, maneuvering under Jim's jockey shorts to find the hidden, half-hard length of his pubescent flesh.
Kathy clasped her fingers around the young boy's blood swollen cock, massaged it gently, moving the foreskin back and forth, back and forth, until it grew strong and wiry. Then she drew it out, holding it in her hand. She gazed at it, admiring its size, staring unblinking, unwinking at the small hole that was like an eye at the very tip of his cock, noticing with a flash of pleasure the drops of lubricating fluid that gathered there, oozing from it slowly.
"Ooooh!" she moaned, falling back on the bed, her legs spread wide, her heels splayed out over the sides of it. "Ohh, Jim!"
With a quick twist of his wrist, he pulled his shirt off, unbuckled his belt, letting his pants slip down. He'd been kneeling, but now he stood, leaning over Kathy lying limp and waiting on the bed. "What do you want me to do?" he asked coldly.
"Ooohhh," Kathy moaned. "Ohhh… you know!"
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you do!"
"Tell me," he ordered.
"I want you to fuck me," Kathy said, all inhibitions wiped away by the exhilarating effect of the marijuana.
Jim shot a quick, evil glance at Art, who watched the scene in complete and utter shock. "Say it again, Kathy," he ordered her, twisting the emotional knife one more time. "Say it again so your husband can hear."
Art wanted to hear her say it, Kathy thought. But of course she would for him. She would do anything to make Art happy. They were man and wife. "Fuck me, Jim," she said in a low, passion-thickened voice. "Fuck me like you did before!"
She heard a scream that sounded as if it came from Art, but she couldn't understand why he would scream when she was doing what he wanted her to do, and then the scream died away and she forgot about it as Jim, kneeling eagerly between her open thighs, used the thick, bulbous head of his cock to part the soft silken strands of her pubic hair, sweeping them away from the pale pink lips of her cunt, leaving the exciting little vertical mouth up between her legs completely open to him. Now he forced the lustfully throbbing head of his pubescent cock into her moistly seeping pussy, pushing inch by inch into the softly yielding walls of her hungrily welcoming cunt. He settled his body upon Kathy, grinding his hips between her open thighs, filling her to bursting, then withdrew momentarily, penetrated her again, deeper this time until the head beat rhythmically, relentlessly against the bottom of her belly up inside.
"Ooooh, darling, you fuck me sooo good," she moaned and mouth open, moved her head from side to side. He rotated his hips, and Kathy moved against them, rotating hers in turn, while beads of perspiration formed on her upper lip. Jim reached down around her hips and cupped her naked buttocks to pull them up closer to his own surging loins, and Kathy was filled with an insane pleasure, a bliss so intense she found it almost unbearable. Nothing was real now, nothing existed except Jim's huge, young cock thrusting in and out, setting her quivering, quaking body on fire with pure passion.
"Oh oh ohooh, God!" she grunted softly as though speaking to herself beneath him.
His strokes quickened now, as Kathy's tightly gripping cunt lips grasped and sucked at his charging shaft hungrily, milking it crazily. His soft, hairless, sperm-filled balls slapped flatly against the naked cheeks of her upturned ass, and Kathy shrieked in wild abandon as she gave herself up to the lewd, obscene fucking she was getting. She writhed beneath Jim's tough, muscular, lean body, her legs jerking back spasmodically to wrap themselves around his torso, ankles locking behind his back, while he ground his fleshy, lust-hardened cock ever deeper into her greedily devouring young belly. And then, before Art's horrified eyes, Kathy began to lurch from side to side, her face contorted, her mouth wide open, in the mindless grip of her great passion. She gasped, panting hard, her breasts heaving, and her mewls of pleasure grew to a frenzied cry.
Jim felt the warm, sticky fluid of Kathy's beginning orgasm as it rose and spilled into her warm, tight cunt, oozed around his plunging shaft, bathing it hotly in its slippery wetness.
"Oh, God, God, I'm cummming!" Kathy wailed, and the satiated Jim thought, Christ, me too, and then he felt the boiling sperm in his inflated balls bubble up and spurt forward, mingling with Kathy's own hot juices, felt it spray the inside of her pussy, felt the incredible tensions of the past few minutes dissolve and disappear in a wildly exploding moment of supreme joy.
He fell back, exhausted, beside Kathy on the mattress, and lay there next to her for a few moments, eyes closed. The rock 'n roll music had stopped for a few moments and someone was talking, introducing another act maybe. Then he heard Mark say, "Okay, Jim. Now it's my turn."
He rose dizzily, found his pants and shirt, pulled them on, moving away from Kathy who lay back on the bed in an attitude of utter depravity. He caught a glimpse of Art's face, and at first found it hard to recognize him! The man was a tortured, maddened animal, snarling at the leash, ready to kill.
Even if Jim didn't get the dope he'd been promised for diverting the police, at least he'd had a fine piece of ass to chalk up to his youthful experiences.