curvy slimness of her figure drove men wild, and how the lush growth of onyx excited them even more than did her fine high breasts. She watched the man, naked, save for his concealing boxer shorts, react to her body in the expected way. She loved the wild feeling of jungle animalism her own beauty inspired in herself and others; she loved to play games with her body, show it off proudly. Most girls were impressed with their fine figures, Pat was enraptured with hers.
She walked to the man, grinning broadly at the way his gaze clung to her. She looked up into his eyes, forcing his attention away from her body and down into her eyes. 'You look big enough to undress by yourself,' she teased, suddenly kittenish and eager. 'Or do you need some help?'
The man jerked erect and, grinning foolishly, yanked off the one remaining garment.
Pat inspected the man critically, unimpressed by the layers of fat that thickened his waist, though, nodding with approval at the rest of him. She had seen firmer, handsomer men, but he would do… nicely. She kept her eyes intimately on him as she spoke. 'What's your name, anyway?'
'Bill. Why? Does it matter?' His voice was thick.
'Not really. But I want to know what to call you when I tell you what to do…' It seemed to Pat that the man paled as she spoke. She was going to like this… It still wasn't Karen, and it was Karen she really wanted tonight, but she was going to like this, anyway.
Bill reached out with both hands. He weighed and squeezed one lovely breast. 'You name it, baby. Just… name it!'
Pat's ice-blue eyes glittered wetly. She could suddenly taste again the bitterness of the cheap liquor her stepfather used. Since the death of her mother, when Pat was eight, her stepfather was the only family she had known… her life had been so lonely. There had been the school bus which had split the dusty road each day to take her away for a few hours from the tiny farm her father worked single-handed in the desolate corner of her native Oklahoma. But most of the time it had only been the two of them, fighting the reluctant earth, sharing a life together without love or understanding. Then one night, shortly after she reached her teens, he had returned to the ramshackle house late after an evening of drinking in town… She had tasted the liquor on his bruising lips, felt his hands ripping her cotton shift from her body, and screamed out in terror, knowing even then that there was no help for her.
Her immature body had suffered under her stepfather's heavy body frequently after that. Pat had hated the assaults. She had tried to fight them off once she knew that the sound of his unsteady footprints approaching her bed meant another violent attack. Her body tried to escape, first by pretending illness, then, when the rapes went on in spite of it, by very real sicknesses which, nameless, produced terrible fevers and terrifying hallucinations.
Pat could never really recall what it was that happened to her shortly after these attacks began. She knew that there was an abrupt change in her body, a painful change. There was a visit by the doctor who screamed at her father, threatening to report him to the authorities, telling him he had ruined her life, that she would never have children after what he had done. Then came a blissful reprieve in the small local hospital, a blindingly white operating room. Followed by more threats when Pat was returned to her father, but the assaults resumed once she was well again, and the doctor, a drinking crony of her father's, never did more than threaten.
She had hated her stepfather for his cruelty. Yet, as the years passed, something happened. She came to almost look forward to the familiar booze odor and the sickening, sluggish body crushing her developing flesh.
This man handling her body, this man who called himself Bill, was built like her stepfather. He even smelled vaguely like him. Pat threw her arms around Bill's thick neck, thrusting her hard nipples against him. She tossed her head back as far as it would go, began a swaying movement that caused her tight young body to rub back and forth against the man, and closed her eyes with a fluttering of her dark lashes. Everything else was forgotten – the money, the future, even Karen. 'Don't… don't be so gentle!' she panted.
Bill grabbed the girl and threw her on the bed. A new air of excitement had gripped him as well. 'Just remember, you asked for this…' His strong hands were on her, bruising and hurting the tender flesh wherever they touched. He reached down roughly and gripped her squirming legs, pulling them apart savagely. The man stared down at the straining thighs, and, more closely then, scrutinized the exposed valley of naked, darkly fringed flesh between them. He caught her ankles suddenly and jackknifed her legs against her tense belly and full breasts. The tempting fullness of her round buttocks and the jungle path of her moist core invited his attack.
'You beautiful slut… You whore…' he whispered fiercely, driving his fingers into the pulsating wetness waiting for his brutal touch.
Pat groaned, taking the furious assault on her body gladly, even joyously. Her limbs were uncomfortably twisted for his pleasure, but there was no pain. There was only a blinding, building pressure in her loins, a simmering bubble of expectant ecstasy. She was delirious with excitement – she didn't care what happened to her. Let him bruise her, ravish her – beat her, if necessary – she was beyond caring. She was wet and open, frantic to be used as a victim of this strange man's lust… and her own. Pat's fingers reached out for, and found, the throbbing stiffness of him.
At her touch, the man ceased his pillage of her body. Released, Pat slid from the bed and, like a large graceful animal, fell on her hands and knees to the floor.
'Stand up,' she begged, trembling.
Bill obeyed, his firm flesh curving rigidly from his belly. Greedily, like a great cat, Pat rubbed the side of her head, her cheeks, and, finally, her lips against the spear-like penis swaying before her face. She was moaning with anticipation, but she put off the moment until, muttering curses, Bill grabbed handfuls of Pat's short hair and forced her mouth into a deeper embrace. He kept her face locked against his sweating loins, jabbing into her mouth with short, deliberate thrusts.
She was dying, she was being stabbed to death, she was an open wound from her grasping lips to the depths of her protesting throat… The insistent flesh throbbed in her mouth as she scraped her teeth gently over its sensitive folds. The huge head of his tireless penis was an enormous wedge, threatening to split her jaws for his pleasure. She was being used thoughtlessly for his solitary enjoyment – and she loved it!
'You hot bitch!' Bill grunted, driving himself into her. 'You think if I come in your mouth I won't be able to shove my prick up your pretty cunt… I'll show you…!' He yanked again, with no trace of gentleness, on her hair, pulling her lips, still open and grasping, from his swollen penis. 'Just use your tongue on it, lick it like the good little whore you are!'
Pat sobbed with the desire to get back at his body, grasp him within her panting lips, but the hands kept her far enough away so that only her wet tongue could taste the bulging head of his arrogant masculinity. She lapped at him greedily, moaning softly all the time.
'Now you're going to get it. Then, you'll get it again, on your back. Faster, faster… now… whore! Now!'
Pat felt the sticky wetness shoot out of him, drenching her lips, trickling down into her mouth, defiling her face. She was insane with passion. Feeling the slackness of his hold on her then, Pat captured the dying meat in her mouth once more, draining his juice utterly, and even before the last trace of his seed flowed out of him. The hot wet mouth which engulfed his flesh, gave him a spontaneous rebirth of lust. Bill shoved the girl away from him, then half dragged, half pushed her to the bed. Pat fell on her back limply, eager now to be ravished thoroughly by this instrument of her rape.
Bill grinned down at her, enjoying his complete power to do with her as he pleased. 'Now I'm going to get my money's worth, baby,' he said, moving one hand to the base of his once again stiff cock. With his free hand he lifted her smooth buttocks so that the slit of dewy flesh and black foliage formed a perfect target.
Pat groaned in ecstatic relief as she felt him breaking into her. He was so big. He drilled himself into her flesh relentlessly, finding no resistance in the squirming creature beneath him. Pat felt the first orgasm catching hold. She rode the waves of her lust tightly, knowing that as soon as this one passed there would be more. She felt she wanted to come with every thrust he made into her cunt. She knew there would be time for five, six more orgasms before this beast dropped his load into the mouth of her womb. She couldn't help but think of her stepfather again. He was like this, hammering his juice into her belly, tormenting her with his huge shaft, a madman, using her young flesh in every way, until she felt like nothing more than a series of openings, existing only to satisfy hard staffs of insatiable lust…
Pat arched her supple back, drifting sweetly off into a hot bath of half-forgotten memory. She felt it build up in her as his rough hands manipulated her body. Next time it would be different – gentle – and that too, would be
