O BEASTLY LUST! read the title line. By Sandra Warfield. The cover featured a painting of a half-naked girl being menaced by three brutal looking men, one of them holding a whip in his hand. What was Aunt Susan doing with this? Well, it was her business. I was putting the spilled books back into the envelope when I saw a folded letter inside. Curiosity got the best of me. I took it out, unfolded it, and began to read:
Dear Susan,
Here are the comps of 'O BEASTLY.' Very hot, very good. We couldn't have printed this a year or two ago, but thank God times are changing! Have you finished SLUT FOR ALL SEASONS yet? Am anxious to see it.
Take care.
Yours,
Karen Butcher, Editor.
Aunt Sue had written this book? I couldn't believe it! I studied the cover again, the girl all but naked, the men feverish with lust. I read the blurb on the back cover: HER HOT BODY DROVE MEN WILD BUT HER COLD HEART TURNED THEM OFF. UNTIL LYDIA FOUND SHAME, DEGRADATION, AND BEASTLY, BEASTLY LUST!
Well! I opened the book at random, not quite halfway through, and began to read. I finished one chapter, then put the book down in a state of shock. My eyes were big as saucers.
I had just read twenty pages of the most graphic sex imaginable. Not only had the heroine Lydia gotten fucked in the asshole by her abductors, but then she had been forced into a cage with a hairy ape, which wrestled her to the floor and fucked her with his gigantic cock. Lydia ended up loving it, and when the chapter finished, she was coming with shrieks of undiluted ecstasy while the ape shot her cunt full of his jizz.
My Aunt Susan wrote that? I couldn't believe it! Again I stared at the letter. Her name and address were at the top, it began 'Dear Susan,' and the book mentioned in the letter, the book she was cheered for, was the very book I held in my hand. Any court in this lovely land would convict her on that much evidence. Could a niece be blamed for assuming?
But Aunt Sue? This was a pornographic novel, if I'd ever seen one. A lady getting fucked by a gorilla and learning to love it? X-rated, baby, X-rated!
I looked into the book once more. A few chapters further on, [missing text]. Now Lydia was strapped down on a tabletop. Vibrating dildoes were inserted in her ass and cunt – apparently the gorilla hadn't mined her snatch after all – and a huge, gross, [missing text]. The lady was squatting atop Lydia's face. Jello-quivery thighs, a cunt hairy, almost hidden in the folds of fat, its slice smelling of piss – and Lydia was slurping away while James, Ron, and Ted stood on the sidelines watching and enjoying.
I wondered how it all turned out, but much more important in my mind was the question, how in the name of slit did Aunt Sue come to write this book? She got embarrassed when I asked her if she was living with a guy. She seemed a bit upset to find that I'd quit wearing pajamas to bed. If I'd ever seen a prude, a prim, proper prude, she was IT. My hands were trembling as I stuffed the books and the letter back into the envelope. No fucking wonder she didn't have this little treasure up on the shelf with her Gothics and nurse stories. If any of this stuff seeped into her haunted castle and love in the hospital corridor books…
Then were more envelopes down there, at least a dozen. All the ones I could get to were return-addressed Bedtime Books, and all of them seemed to contain several paperbacks. The postmarks were 1970 and 1971, which must have been her sex phase. I didn't have to look inside the envelopes. I knew what I'd find, and the prospect scared me nearly as much as the first sight of that horny ape scared Lydia.
What was the score with my auntie? How many more secrets, did she have stashed away? I felt as if I'd been spying on her. It was none of my business. If she'd wanted any of us to know about those books, she'd have put them right up there on the shelf with the others. So why was I snooping around and digging them out?
I heard her horn tooting outside. She was back from town with the groceries. I grabbed a couple of mysterious castle books from a shelf and went out to meet her. Aunt Sue came up from the car with her arms full of grocery sacks and I hurried to help like a good little niece, but as I followed her up the steps to the front porch, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of a woman she really was.
On the one hand she seemed outraged when I brought up a subject that touched even lightly on sex, and she seemed honestly outraged. But on the other hand she was capable of writing O BEASTLY LUST. Not to mention SLUT FOR ALL SEASONS and who knew what else? Were there two Susans? Did she have a secret life that she didn't wish to share with outsiders? It was none of my business, speaking morally, but I've never been much on morals. I go where my instincts lead me, and my instincts were screaming FIND OUT WHAT MAKES HER TICK!
CHAPTER FIVE
The rest of Sunday passed placidly. Aunt Sue wanted to touch up the chapter she'd worked on yesterday, and I went into the backyard for a little sunning – this time with my bikini on, since her office window faced the spot where I was lying. Later we collaborated on dinner, then moved to the front porch for iced tea and talking. Finally we retreated to the living room, after the sun went down, and watched a little TV.
Aunt Sue went to bed after the eleven o'clock news but I sat up waiting for the late movie, an old Bogart flick. It wasn't one of his biggies, just a pre-stardom job with Bogie as a supporting villain. No wonder I didn't remember the title. I poured the last of the wine we'd began drinking into my glass, snacked up the rest of the cheese we'd been munching, and slouched in my chair trying to follow the rather draggy plot.
It wasn't worth following. I slumped a little more, stretching my legs, licking the last wine drops from my lips. The room was dark and quiet, save for the TV set and its flickering black and white picture. Aunt Sue was probably asleep by now. I felt as if I were totally alone.
Maybe. I unbuttoned my blouse, left it hanging open for a few minutes, then removed it entirely. I like to be naked. Of course, I don't get to do it much at home, except in my room, that with the family situation I live in, but when I get out on my own, I don't intend to wear clothes at all in private. Unless, of course, Mama and Daddy are coming by for a visit. Any other callers will have to take pot luck.
Why stop at half-measures, Pamela Crosby? I asked myself, and there was no viable answer forthcoming. I stood up and let my jeans drop to the floor. They're tight, and I had to wiggle to make them fall, and the clanging of the belt buckle sounded as loud as a hammer on an anvil. I held my breath for a minute, wondering if Aunt Sue had awakened, but she didn't call out so it must have been all right.
It was better than all right when I took off my panties and settled my bare butt onto the soft cushion of the chair.
I touched my pussy, a soft testing touch, and found that I was warm and velvety. A little smile curled my lips. My snatch wasn't quite so raw and tender this evening, and I didn't jerk spastically when I fondled the lips of my cunt. A sure sign that my period was drawing to a close. And thank God for that! No wonder we call it the curse!
The warmth began to spread as I touched and rubbed my gash with a bit more vigor. Hush-a-bye, I thought, hush-a-bye, Susie. Her bedroom was here, on the ground floor, and if she wasn't sleeping soundly, she might come strolling out when I least expected it. So I wished her sweet dreams and myself something even sweeter.
Oh, fuck! I shouldn't trust it to chance. I stood up and got into my panties and shirt and went tiptoeing down to her door. Gently I opened it, peering inside. A shaft of moonlight arrowed through the open window, outlining and revealing her face where it lay on the pillow.
Her hair was loose and flowing, her eyes shut in dreamy sleep, and the cover lifted and fell in a soft, almost imperceptible motion as she breathed in her repose. Funny thing about moonlight, I told myself. It was very kind to Aunt Sue's plain face. She looked almost pretty asleep, with her glasses off and her face relaxed. Or maybe it was just the relaxation. She wasn't engaged in presenting a desired image to the world at large. Her guards were all down and I was seeing the natural Susan. Such a shame. If she really wanted to, if she were willing to work on herself… Oh, it was her business, not mine! If she wanted to be dowdy and ugly, she could be as dowdy and ugly as she fucking well wanted. All I'd come for was to find out whether she slept or woke.
I closed the door and went back into the living room. As I passed the wine bottle, I picked it up by the neck and tilted it to my lips for a cleaning-up job on the final droplets left inside. A taste of wine tinged on my tongue,
