Jane was in the kitchen. I took her arm and led her to the door.
“Didn't she know her father?” she said.
“No.”
“I wouldn't want to have my father turn up like that, would you?”
“No, I wouldn't. My father has been dead for ten years.”
Jane and I went outside. To hell with the slow approach I thought. I wanted to lay the girl.
“Would you like to go out to the barn and climb into the hay loft with me and be fucked?” I asked her.
“I would like to do that,” she said.
I expected, while we were there in the barn, that we would hear the engine of the Buick start pretty soon, but that did not happen. And when it did not happen right away I stopped listening for it.
Jane rolled on the hay and lifted her dress and showed herself to me. First she pulled her dress up in front and showed me her smooth belly and the triangular cut of hair, and then she turned and pulled the back of her dress up. Her ass had a tiny mole on one cheek. I had not seen that before. I kissed it. She was very warm and very soft.
Because the hay pricked us we spread all of our clothes out and lay on them. Jane sat up after being in my arms for an instant, and she put her hand on my prick and held it while she was speaking.
“Mrs.-Ruth told me that I shouldn't feel the way I did about last night,” she said. “I mean what happened in the car. She said that men always shoot in her mouth when she sucks them, and that they like to have it done that way. Do they like very much to have it done that way?”
“Yes,” I said. “Very much.”
The girl smoothed my prick with the tips of her fingers and then she held it tighter. The tip commenced to flow.
“And she said that after a time or two a girl gets to like the taste and wants to do it that way as much as the man does, and that she can want to French a man as much as to be jazzed. Is that right?”
“I think it happens that way sometimes.”
Bending forward with her tits swinging free of her body she put her face to my cock. But at the last minute, just when it seemed about to be touched by her lips, she turned her head and slid it along her cheek and kissed me on my belly.
“It could have been because I did not expect it,” she said. “I hadn't thought that anything like that might happen, and that might be why I didn't like it, and if I knew that it was going to happen and was ready for it, then I might like it.”
She rolled my prick between her hand and her face.
“If you did it I might like it,” she said.
I turned to one side, turning her with me, and I kissed her belly and then I opened her legs and looked at what was between them. I plunged for her cunt and glued my mouth to it.
Jane said something, but I could not hear her clearly, for at that moment her legs were tight-pressed to my heart and into her cunt. I found it tight, and my tongue entered like a wedge, spreading it and slipping in. Her hair prickled my lips.
She opened her legs, and her cunt opened slightly with them, and I curved my tongue around it, through the shallow places and into the hot hole. Jane pushed me away.
“Stand up in front of me,” she said, “and tell me to French you. Tell me to obey-make me!”
When she stood up I stood up with her.
“Tell me to obey or you'll kill me,” she said.
“Get back on your knees,” I said. “My prick is going into your mouth.”
Jane hunched her shoulders and looked at my cock, and for a single moment I felt that it was too real with her, and that she felt too much the words she wanted me to say.
“Or else,” I added, “I'll add you to tomorrow's soup.”
“Say it again. Say it to me the way a man would say it to a woman he didn't really like but was screwing because she was afraid of him and had to do what he said.”
“Say, what is this?” I asked her.
She laughed, and she quickly dropped to her knees, then caught my cock and looked up at me.
“I was only fooling,” she said.
“You'd damn well better have been fooling.”
Jane touched my prick with her nose and then with her lips. It was good to feel her lips on my prick, and they were warm and moist. They were easy to go into, and I gave my cock to her as fast as she was willing to take it. I leaned against the wall of the barn and she knelt with her knees half buried in the hay and her toes out and the soles of her feet pink and wrinkled. When Jane pulled her mouth away again my prick was wet, and the redness of the tip was not because of lipstick.
“I can do it,” she said. “All that was wrong was that I was not expecting him to shoot, so if you tell me you're going to shoot I can take it and I won't mind a bit.”
“Do you want me to shoot in your mouth?”
“Yes,” she said. “Shoot in my mouth while I am sucking you. Please do it.”
“And will you promise to swallow it and keep sucking and not try to get away? Because it would spoil it if you didn't do it just that way.”
“I won't try to get away,” she said. “I'll suck it and swallow the stuff when you shoot.”
They have to learn some time. I have known some girls who could never learn to go down on a man and stay there until he had hauled his ashes, and then I have known some who took to it as naturally as they took to breathing, but all of them had to learn some time whether or not they were able to do it. I stuck my prick in Jane's mouth and hoped for the best.
She squeezed with her lips, and her tongue shot around in her mouth, over and under my cock. At the beginning she was sucking so lightly that I couldn't really be certain that she was sucking at all, because she seemed to think that my prick was very tender and might get hurt. But soon my prick was as hard as a steel bar, and she worked harder on it then. She became excited, too, and it was nice to feel her tear into it and know that she was feeling the things she showed and wasn't just playing to the stands.
Just to tease her I jerked my cock away from her. I dangled it in front of her mouth, and she opened her lips and reached for it with teeth bared, but I wouldn't let her have it. She didn't use her hands, but just followed it with her mouth, and she was furiously anxious to get it back. I pressed it against her throat like a stiletto.
“You can have it when you've kissed it,” I said. “But just kiss it, or I'll take it away from you again, and you won't get it back.”
Very meekly, and almost chastely, she put her lips on the end and gave it several little pecks. Then I thrust it into her mouth.
She sucked just the end of it. Her tongue went around and around, and then her head took up the same motion. I stopped her.
“You'll make yourself dizzy,” I said.
“I'm beginning to know more about it already,” she said. “You're going to shoot pretty soon, aren't you?”
I said yes, pretty soon.
“I knew it,” she said. “See, I'm getting smart about this! I'll make it nice for you.”
She held my prick in her two hands and made small circles, rubbed the end inside the ring of her lips. But I pushed it past that ring and jerked my hips. I was ready to give it to her, and I wanted to be sure that she was ready for it as much as I was, so I asked her if she still wanted me to shoot or if she wanted me to call it off.
She almost choked herself trying to show her willingness to do it right.
In a minute more I shot, and just as she said she was going to, she swallowed it. She made a queer gurgling noise and kept at it until I had to tell her to stop.
“That's all,” I said.
I threw myself down with her. She moved her tongue around her mouth and swallowed several times in succession, like someone with a hair caught in his throat. She looked down to where the car was and where the sun was pouring in the door. The sun was coming in the sides of the barn, through the joints and cracks, and light dust glinted in the strips of color.
