'No, it isn't that, but…'
'You don't even have Mrs. Hamilton yet to share!'
Scott lapsed into momentary silence, unsure exactly what was troubling him. But he was suddenly very sorry he'd ever opened his fat mouth to Curtis, seeing a leer cross the boy's face and knowing it meant trouble. If anything happened to Mrs. Hamilton because of his rashness, he'd never forgive himself! In spite of how she'd treated him yesterday, he didn't want her to regret what'd happened anymore than she had already. Then for sure he'd never get another chance!
Desperately he sought to persuade Curtis not to do anything wrong. 'Hey, listen, if she doesn't love it, she could have us arrested or something.'
'Don't be stupid, stupid,' the second boy sneered. 'After what she did, we could squeal on her. She talks, we talk.'
Scott, caught on the horns of his self-made dilemma, tried again. 'Well, maybe she won't talk. Maybe she'll scream!'
'Screaming is normal for girls, until you get them going. I remember Jane Trenholm yelling like hell when three of us wanted to gang-bang her, and then we started tickling her bush with a parakeet feather. She was still yelling afterwards — but for it, not against it! Anyway, Mrs. Hamilton lives in that big house, so chances are nobody'll hear anything if she kicks up a fuss. I've got a hunch she won't, though.'
'I still don't think…'
'Sure! It'll be a snap. Hey, and I just thought of something else, kid. Marge left her sister's vibrator in the car last night, and buzzing that thing between her legs always sets her off like a firecracker! I was thinking of returning it to her today, but now I won't! We'll take it with us!'
'With us? Now?'
'You know a better time? You're in on this, aren't you?'
'Well…' Scott was torn with conflicting emotions now. Crap, he was scared shitless of going back to Mrs. Hamilton and trying to fuck her. But the more he considered it, the more he thought of her tight, wet cunt sliding up and down over his cock the way she'd promised him. His penis was growing hard just thinking about it! He did want her, and this could be his one big chance to be a big man with Curtis, too!
'O-okay,' he capitulated at last. 'Only you gotta promise me you won't hurt her any if she doesn't want to do it with us.'
'Naw, I wouldn't think of it, kid!' Curtis Benson laughed impatiently. 'Come on, grab Atilla and let's move. Man, my loaf is down to my kneecaps just thinking about sliding it into Mrs. Hamilton's oven!'
Again he laughed, and the two boys and the dog soon set off towards Mrs. Hamilton's house. Simple greedy lust burned in the older boy's mind, and his mouth felt dry, small beads of sweat forming unconsciously along his brow. Marge's vibrating massager was stuck in his pocket now, and as Curtis Benson fingered the phallic-shaped tool, he thought to himself: Just you wait, Teach! Just you wait for what's in store for you…!
Lisa Hamilton suddenly cried out, waking up with perspiration streaming down her face, her blonde-haired vagina curiously wet and tingling. It had been another nightmare, another in a long series of them since she'd gone to sleep Friday night. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it of its confusion, seeing by the bedside clock that it was nearly ten a.m. and far later than she was used to staying in bed. Perhaps that was it, she thought woozily; she'd been sleeping too hard, and that was the reason for the late hour, and for a head which felt as if swaddled in cotton. The thirty-one year old teacher slowly sat up, still feeling groggy, frowning as she tried to remember the nightmare that had gone on and kept waking her up screaming in the darkened room…
Little Scott Phillips, naked and aroused… herself, first on the floor and then bent over on the bed like a dog… like a dog… like a dog!
The impact hit her like a speeding bullet.
'My God! Last night! It happened!'
Feverish horror leaped through her mind, vanquishing the last traces of sleep in a single stroke. She felt the blood rising in her cheeks as vivid memories of the teenager's penis, and her own sordid performance of sucking it while Atilla was mounting her drifted back with singular clarity. She stumbled from her bed, narrowly avoiding the empty wine bottle on the floor, and lurched to the dresser to stare into its mirror with disbelieving eyes. 'Lord, oh Lord, I did it,' she moaned in anguish. 'I did it with a boy and his dog…'
Heavy lines marred her usually young-looking skin, and her eyes were sunk deeply into their sockets as if she'd aged a decade overnight. She glanced down then at her naked figure, and unconsciously her hands smoothed over her throbbing breasts. She moaned aloud as she touched their swollen nipples gently, and she moaned again as her hands explored further and fingered the flushed pink lips of her sensitive vagina. She probed softly around the tender cuntal slit and curly pubic hair, having to admit to herself that there were only a few outward signs of her experience, hardly worse than if she'd been out late and drinking. Strange, but I can't see marks of dissipation. Nobody could tell I'd been fucked senseless by an animal while I'd tasted a boy's sperm shooting in my mouth…
'God, what am I going to do? How can I ever face my chemistry class on Monday with young Scott there?' She mewled abjectly. She forced back tears and a wracking sob of shame, removing a chenille robe from the hook behind the door and slipping it over her mature voluptuousness. She buttoned it all the way from top to bottom, and then wandered lost and soulless out into the kitchen to plug in the percolator.
While waiting for the coffee to heat, she crossed to the windows along the back, staring out at the fresh spring morning and wishing it were cloudy and cold to match the barren winter in her heart. There were a few fleecy clouds floating in the azure sky above, and a large bird, perhaps a hawk, sailed on slow wing, swooping low along the emerald green of the distant hills. Its wide, floating circles and long, graceful curves were so lacking in effort that Lisa longed to be up there with it. To escape so effortlessly, to ride the air and feel the peaceful exhilaration the bird must feel… how different from her own incoherent mental agony! And always her harrowing thoughts returned to the reality of her actions…
Sex.
She could find no excuse for her horrid behavior yesterday, but she knew exactly what the reason had been behind it. Sex.
Sex had always been a nasty word, a notion of physical contact that she'd never been able to endure. She considered shamefully her lustful drives, so long hidden and repressed, and how they'd finally burst through her self-imposed shackles to overcome any sense of morality, or decorum. Like so much of human nature, suppression can be taken just so long before it riots — and the sterner the control, the worse the ultimate explosion.
Yes, and truly she had willingly entered into a new depraved life now, one in which dogs and children were the salve to soothe the fiery passions which had suddenly taken command of her senses. In discarding her prudery, she had become a seducer and an animal-lover, and she knew she should be filled with sickness, abomination, and a sense of utter loathing for herself.
But she was not, and this terrified her more than all else. For her nightmares were not so much of revulsion for what she'd done, as of the realization she'd done them wholeheartedly in eager abandonment. She was a slave to her emotions, and it was a frightening feeling to know she could no longer trust herself against her human frailties. According to her mother, she and those like her were perfect ladies unblemished by sin or weakness. And now Lisa could no longer claim to be a member of that select club, too painfully aware of the overwhelming power of her sexual needs… and now nothing could ever blot out those lascivious sensations she'd enjoyably rutted in, nor the awful fear that she'd repeat her responses should the temptations present themselves again.
Yet — God! She had to find a way of controlling her perverted impulses! She might be emotionally crippled for the rest of her life, but for the sake of her innocent students, she must keep the appalling truth of her character locked in the confines of her soul. It was the only way she'd ever have the chance to pick up the pieces of her splintered hopes and rebuild them into the image of a decent, respectful woman. But for the moment she could do nothing, nothing except wait, hope and pray for the chance…
Then suddenly there came a knocking, a determined rapping which caught her unawares, breaking her thinking and, with a shock she looked toward her kitchen door.
'Who's there?' she asked shaking slightly.
The knocking repeated, insistently, louder now.
'Who's there, I say?' she cried, irrationally trembling.
