She is one slutty stewardess

"Hello, Ann. Hello you delicious cunt. Hello, mouth sucker."

"Who is this? Who the hell is this?" The sleep drained from Ann Barot's beautiful eyes.

"Ohhh, poor baby bitch! Don't remember the voice, eh? But do you remember sucking my big cock, lickin' it so smooth with that educated tongue of yours? Remember getting it up that sweet ass of yours? I remember your voice, Ann. I remember it from the way you screamed with delight every time I cornholed you, and the way you moaned at the sweet taste of my prick, mmm, you used to say how yummy it tasted. Know what else I remember? I remember them big tits of yours, especially those big wine colored nipples ... when they'd swell up nice and hard. But don't worry, you little cock-hungry nympho, you won't have to remember, 'cause soon now I'm gonna let you blow me again, and then I'm gonna fuck you nine ways from Tuesday, and I'm gonna lick you like a slurpee, eat you until you die from the heat of it and ..."

Ann hung up the phone.

Ann thought how lucky it was that her husband wasn't home. Or was it? If he were here, he might satisfy that damp little cloudburst in her crotch, brought on, she had to admit, by the both lovely and filthy language of the obscene phone call.

She stroked her bare breasts lightly and the nipples came alive. The caller was right, her nipples were unusually large, and they did have the color of wine to them. The stroking finger trailed down over her flat tummy and into the slightly creamed hole in the nest of soft crotch hair. She masturbated furiously, then forced herself to sleep. After all, she had to be wide awake for her biology class the next day. She would think about that, and not the sound of that monstrous voice.

The next day, in class, she thought again of the phone call. The voice had a familiar ring to it, and she told herself half a dozen times, no, it just couldn't be him. The rotten sonofabitch, she wouldn't put it past him, even after all this time. He'd be just that much of a bastard, she thought.

"Has everyone made the first incision on the dorsal side?" Professor Jacobs stood with his hands clasped behind his back, pacing back and forth between the laboratory tables where students sat clad in white smocks in her Biology 101 class.

Gradually Professor Jacobs sauntered in the direction of one of his older but prized students. "Ann, is everything okay here? Any problems separating the layer of skin from the muscle? Takes a steady hand to use the scalpel effectively."

"No, no problems, Professor." She gulped and swallowed hard as her deft hand sliced into the muscle of the artichoke-colored muscle ripping and tearing under the pressure of her graceful hand.

Professor Jacobs marveled at the woman's precision of movement. He'd taught at the University for twelve years, and never had he witnessed a female as captivated by the subject of biology as she. There was nothing this woman was frightened of. The professor, his index finger resting on his lip and one arm still clasped behind his back, recalled how enraptured and mesmerized she had been when a live snake was passed around the classroom, disproving the popular belief that snakes are cold to the touch. One student, he remembered, had fainted as Ann passed the snake entangled around her arm stroking its head, smiling.

"We have night classes with special instruction for those few students who excel in the field of biology and anatomy. Each student is given private lessons in dissection, just in case you're interested."

Ann raised her blonde head. "That's very kind of you, Professor. But you see I'm only going to school part time and I don't think it's really necessary."

Professor Jacobs removed his bifocals. He'd seen Ann from a distance, walking around the campus, books under her arm. She was, by any standards, one of the best looking women on campus. Once he had hidden in the bushes lining the football field, watching her with hungry eyes as the women's physical education class went through its ritual of exercises to warm up for their game of soccer.

She had stood with long well-developed legs and thighs, their golden tan set off appealingly by the blue gym shorts she wore. Her hips were slim and yet her buttocks stood out in an attractive way, for her waist was even smaller. Her breasts were her crowning glory; their voluptuous fullness topped her slender frame in a way that brought a pain of desire to his groin.

On countless occasions, Professor Jacobs had watched her through binoculars from the private seclusion of his office in the science building directly across from the field. His mouth would fall open as she bent and stretched her body in provocative stances, her breasts moving under her white gym shirt, the shirt unbuttoned and open at the neck, revealing the beginning of a cleavage that was golden tan and sprinkled with a fine film of perspiration. Two lovely mounds of flesh jiggled and rippled as she played goalie, bouncing the ball back to her opponents by the force of her slender foot.

The binoculars were raised now despite the shaking of his trembling hands, as he focused on her long flowing hair reaching down to her mid-back in even swirls of waves. Her face was well tanned and exceedingly healthy looking, indicating she spent a great deal of her spare time in the sun. Her brown eyes were offset by high arched brows, giving her an appearance of intelligence and alertness that favored few women. The classic straightness of her nose ended in curving nostrils, introducing her full lipped red mouth which smiled a great deal of the time. He studied her chin now, as the ball slipped through her block and she grimaced at her error in judgment. What a firm jaw line she had! So determined and set.

Professor Jacobs sighed warily. No way could he make her even look at him, except of course to ask questions that he often had to consult textbooks for an answer. He had tried everything his shrewd intelligence could muster to find out more about this mysterious beauty. Once in desperation he snuck into the registrar's office under the guise of needing information on a failing student and flipping through the files of B's, found an "out" card in her place. Accepting this misfortune as an omen, he laid his binoculars and pretensions aside for a week, but the frustration kept him awake for nights on end. He would lie there, tossing and groaning all night beside his snoring wife. The image of her blonde hair blowing in the wind would not leave him to rest. She reeked of sex. Every time she moved he interpreted her motion as a provocative invitation to sex. The way she called him 'Professor Jacobs', so polite and husky-voiced. Above all it was her selectiveness, her concentration whether she was lighting a cigarette or kicking a soccer ball, an attention to detail that made him guess she'd been around. Nothing could distract her.

Professor Jacobs treasured a scrap of paper discovered under her desk in row 2, seat 4. Although it was only a curt message to a man named John, he kept it stashed in his desk drawer along with his assortment of pipes and tobacco, right next to the bottle of sherry and two glasses -- just in case Ann Barot might consent to private consultation over her mid-term exam. He had the stage set. ...

Until, on a breezy fall day when he had followed her from the science building to the library, his hopes soaring with desire, she was intercepted by a tall, dark haired man who grasped her lovingly. The professor could sense his heart drop to his knees as he Blinked by the embracing couple who muttered something about 'going home and spending the night together for a change.' He watched them, his armful of test papers scattered to the wind as his lifeless arm dropped in desperation to his side, and they drove off in an embrace in a white MGB enshrouded in dust.

Professor Jacobs was not alone in his screaming need for attention from the lovely Ann Barot. To a man in love there is no torture as sweet as rejection,. and his mad pursuit. He purchased a telescope, telling his wife that he was tired of biology and wanted to turn to astronomy for inspiration. It was now the second semester and Ann's gym class was learning archery.

With his telescope adjusted to the stance of the bow and arrow sport, he could sit for a full hour with his instrument encompassing the high mounds of her breasts, even more accentuated now by the exaggerated pose of archery. The Professor had met Carol Nester, the thirty-seven year old gym instructor and he had thought her a bit kinky. She was a single woman with a butch-type haircut and a broad flat face; her posture was anything but stunning now as she stood with her heavy legs spread wide and her hinds on her barely evident hips. The wind blew through her hair, but it did not stir. Christ, does she use grease or what? thought the professor in disgust as this boyish woman blocked his view to instruct Ann on how far back to draw the shaft.

Word spread like a wild brush fire a few years back when a few of Carol Nester's students complained about her enraptured attention to her girls' hygiene. There was no excuse for not showering in her class. But no one could make a well founded objection because although she was constantly tempted and excited by the naked female bodies around her, she had never actually approached any of them.

Ann Barot had never exhibited modesty in the stuffy confines of the girls' locker room, reeking from the stench of sweaty bodies and athlete's foot powdered mats, and she stripped in front of Carol as if she were a professional, and stood brazenly naked before the bulging eyes of Carol, her heart pounding with lesbian desires.

"You ... you're doing just fine, Ann," Carol congratulated her student on her fine performance during the first archery lesson of the spring season.

"Why, thank you," acknowledged Ann as she swept by in her naked glory, leaving her instructor trembling with itching hands.

In five short minutes, Ann had showered and dressed in her casual attire-Levi's and a pink long-sleeved tee-shirt with "Oui" printed in bold black letters across her chest. Her hair was still a bit damp now from the shower and with a free hand she lifted her gold locks and ran her fingers through the baby soft waves, glistening in the sunlight of the warm April afternoon.

God, I've got two exams tomorrow, thought the lovely blonde strutting past the crowded library mall where countless eyes focused on her svelte form headed for the doors of the main library building. It's a good thing John won't be back from his flight to London until this weekend, she continued her thoughts, planning every minute of her busy day now that the spring session was well under way and her grades screamed for attention. Not that they were bad, she considered silently, especially for someone who hadn't been in school for four years.

Ann's life had taken a new course since her marriage to John Barot a year ago that May. Accustomed to the hectic life of a stewardess -- maintaining two residences, one on each coast of the country -- she found her new lifestyle surprisingly mellow and peaceful, especially now that she and John had purchased a house high on the winding road leading to Mount Tamalpais in Marin County, just a half-hour ride to San Francisco. There was the sunshine and the cool mountain air to wake up to every morning instead of rushing to put on makeup and press up uniforms. Her country life was growing on her, and horseback riding and hiking were among her newly discovered pastimes, since John spent a great deal of time away now that he was flying internationally.

Ann was humming to herself now as she thumbed through the card catalog under 'subjects' for a speech she had to give next week on changing marriage patterns in the United States. Mechanically fumbling through the endless stream of cards entitled, 'marriage,' 'courtship,' 'divorce, rate of', she sighed deeply, wondering if she should spend so much time on her speech when her two examinations were a day off. Anyway, she reasoned to herself, if anybody knows about marriage it's me.

Her mind drifted off, her hand still clutching a card, as she reflected on her first marriage, which ended two years before she met John. His name was Paul and he was a test pilot for the Navy in San Diego where she'd met him on a weekend yacht cruise from Monterey to San Diego. It was truly one of those rare 'love at first sight' occurrences that you read about in thirty-five cent magazines at bus stations. His square shoulders and red perky hair, that always stuck up in a cowlick, peeking out from the back of his head beneath the strict confines of his Navy hat, and his merry blue eyes, so typical of the Irish, struck her dead.

It was a week she would never forget! They'd met on Saturday and on Monday she called her friend and fellow stewardess, Trudy, and begged her, "Please, please, please, exchange schedules with me. I've met this knockout of a test pilot. He's with the Navy and he's such a hunk. God, Trudy, wait'til you see him!"

With thoughtful consideration, Trudy complied, and that very day Ann and Paul flew in his private plane to Reno where they were married. The honeymoon was spent at the honeymoon suite of the Harrah, breakfast delivered every morning, lunch every afternoon and dinner every evening, while the newspapers piled up outside of their hotel door, completely ignored. For three days they didn't leave the room, not even to try their luck at the tempting machines that clinked and clattered in the downstairs of their love bungalow. Frank Sinatra was opening in the very building, but they did not stir from the honey sweet love nest of their bedroom.

It was now Thursday morning and Paul had to return to the Navy base in San Diego or go AWOL -- neither a pleasant choice for a newlywed husband hopelessly in love with his Cinderella blonde wife, who purred her affection endlessly in streams of provocative lovemaking. But there was no choice, and with a freckled hand, he wiped the tears from her rosy cheeks, and bade his wife goodbye. He had to hurry now as the plane still needed some last minute repairs and a good check before he'd dare cross the desert, blasted with sand storms now sweeping the Southwest.

With trembling hands Ann packed her suitcase, the tears rolling down her tanned cheeks, dampening her honeymoon peignoir soiled from their three-day celebration of love and family hood. How she loathed going back to work, 'is there anything I can get you sir!' 'an aspirin for your headache, ma'am. Of course.' Smile, smile, smile, that's all you do when you're a stewardess, thought Ann securing the top button of her red blazer. I'm so tired of taking care of everyone's needs, she sighed, but now that Paul and I are married maybe I can live in one place and maybe, just maybe, even raise a family. Tucking in a blonde curl that escaped her red hat, she considered calling the airlines and telling her supervisor that as of that very minute her career as servile female was over -- for good. God, it's only been four hours since Paul left and already I'm hopelessly lost without him, she thought, stroking on her curled thick lashes.

The telephone buzzed. "Hello?"

"Ann? This is the desk. We have a call for you. Please hold on for the connection."

Ann cradled the receiver to her heaving chest; maybe it was Paul and he had decided to go AWOL and they'd romantically fly his private plane to Sweden and bask in the sun for the rest of their lives. Her reverie was broken by the flatulence of a deep voice.

"Ann Bailey. I have a notice here in my hand," he belched out every word, "that you are the recent bride of Paul Bailey."

"Yes," she stammered.

"He's had an accident. His two-engine plane took off from the runway but one of the engines failed ..."

"Is he all right?" Ann anxiously screamed into the phone.

"Afraid not. Plane went up in flames. No survivors."

The receiver dangled by its curly cord for three hours before anyone from the hotel thought it worth inspecting. Delivering the ordered luncheon of cheese plates, cold cuts and cantaloupe, the bell hop knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked louder and waited. Still no response. "Goddamn it!" he muttered. "Are they still in there making love? Never seen anything like it." He fumbled for a key thinking that if anyone was in there they certainly wouldn't allow their happiness of bedtime pleasures to be interrupted for the questionable delight of dried up contents under the silver dish on his cart. He stuck the key in the lock. Still no response. With a brisk movement the door was opened and, backing in, the bell hop pivoted with the cart, his back still to the bed purposely.

"Miss!" he screamed. Christi Hope this isn't another suicide, he thought as he lifted the head of the blonde woman whose wan face clearly showed an expression of grief even in her helplessly unconscious condition. With a splash of ice water from his cart, Ann was brought back to life once more but against her will.

Straining, she rose on one elbow, then, with the bell hop inches away the stark reality of her miserable life hit her like a gust of Arctic wind. "Ohhhh, God, help me," she repeated with blankly staring eyes. "He's dead ... Paul ... is dead ... dead ..."

It was over. Her happy life as wife and lover to her Irish darling was over. It was like a dream, a six day dream. He was gone and there was no sign of him as she scanned the room for affirmation of her past husband's existence. Yellow walls lined with Picasso paintings and Dali sketches smiled back at her mockingly.

How she managed to leave the empty cell of that room was an unsolved mystery to her, even a year later. An even greater enigma to the pale figure of the blonde stewardess, thin and visibly ailing from the shock of her loss, was how she returned to her routine of `thank you for flying with us' `here is your coat, sir', and the endless stream of meaningless innuendoes that cramp the life of an airline stewardess.

Trudy, a true swinger who used to laugh and giggle incessantly at the lewd behavior of the drunken first class passengers as they slithered their hungry fingers up her tapered legs to the top of her slim thighs, convinced her to get out of the four walls of their shared Boston apartment and start acting like the young and beautiful woman she truly was.

Reluctantly, Ann followed her roommate to singles bars, where they would sit conspicuously alone sharing bottles of fine French wines and packs of femininely slim cigarettes, ogling the steady line of blurry-eyed drunken males stumbling as they sought the acquaintance of the two lovely women. But it was a bore, and Ann returned to her library of Hesse and Jung, seeking an inner truth that she was convinced lay hidden in the wisdom of their words. But words couldn't fill her vacuum of dead love and Ann searched the extreme for something to plug up that hole of loneliness that ate away at her heart like a growing seed of destitution.

Trudy, her savior during this most horrid of times, took her recalcitrant roommate along to parties, sailing in the Boston Harbor, even for drives to up-state New York in hopes of bringing her back to life. Finally, even Ann could not tolerate her apathy for life and forcing her self into submission, began accompanying her brown-haired, brown-eyed friend to parties, risqué parties. There is no one more jet-set in their mentality than those who work for airlines, and Ann was soon to find this truth for herself.

"Comin' along to the party tomorrow, aren't you?" Trudy asked, pressing her black spaghetti strapped crepe dress. Ann raised her head from the newspaper she was reading and studied her friend for a brief moment, thinking I wish I could be more like Trudy, so free and aggressive, downright sexy in her provocative approach to the opposite sex. But there had been some suspicious occurrences lately in their Boston apartment, a few too many phone calls demanding arrangements for exact times and exact meeting places -- all too formal and carefully planned for casual affairs. One evening not too long before Trudy had snuck in the house unaware that Ann was still awake after a trying flight from San Diego where a thunder storm had delayed their flight twelve hours. Carefully Trudy had unlocked the door and, with her back to her roommate, tip-toed unseeingly into the bathroom. There was something strangely unnerving about Trudy's behavior and Ann put down her book and strolled into the bathroom where Trudy was running ice cold water over a washcloth for her eye -- her black eye, as Ann soon discovered. The secret was out.

"Well, maybe I just might. Where is this one? Chicago?"

"God, no!" Trudy laughed vivaciously. "San Francisco. One of the pilots, he's a real swinger, they tell me. Ann, I mean really," she set down her iron to remove a roller pick that stuck mercilessly into her tender scalp. "He used to be a mechanic and he's got some tricks you wouldn't believe! Anyway, that's what Sharon tells me, remember her?" Trudy's eyes rolled back in her head in reverie. "Anyway, we'll be going for a cruise in his yacht -- under the Golden Gate Bridge and everything! Oh, Ann, you have to come!"

"Mmmmm, maybe. I'll see how ..." She reconsidered. "Yes, that sounds just like what the doctor ordered."

It was that evening in San Francisco that Ann was to meet the man who would change the direction of her life from a soul-searching existence to one of unequaled debauchery. His name was Mike Boston.

Ann's dreams were broken now by Professor Jacobs, busily, clawing through a card catalog a few feet away, his eyes burning a hole in the back of her head. God, I wish he would leave me alone, she thought silently, scratching down call numbers in her notebook with a dull pencil.

"Mike Boston," she whispered aloud. Heads turned. Her thoughts returned once more to a yacht party in San Francisco two years ago.

It had been a pleasant evening, a bit too cool to her liking, but Mike had conviently stashed an armful of fur coats on board just in case any of the carefully selected females felt a chill. Mike was a pleasant man, not at all like an airplane impression of the handsome forty-ish trickster. Somehow it didn't follow that anyone with a meager job such as his could make enough money to throw lavish parties even one night a year, let alone once a month.

But she was soon to realize his evil depravities: true, he did work for the airlines, but he had been a pilot who had lost his license for smuggling diamonds in from Australia, and it was from the sale of illicit goods that he could afford any high class call girl who struck his fancy. Trudy was one such who now occupied that dubious distinction.

Ann had drunk too much that night, and the vertigo of the rocking motion of the boat combined with the wine, left her a helpless mass of putty. But what did it matter? Who cared what she did? Her drinking increased with intensity and before she could grasp for support, darkness overcame her. When she awoke she was in an apartment, alone except for the moaning and groaning of provocative lovemaking a few feet away on the bed. Must be Trudy, she reasoned, up to her tricks again.

Oh, my head, she moaned silently. God! what have I done to myself? Ann's feeble hand was pressed to her aching forehead when she felt a strange pressure on her arm. Opening her eyes, her vision grossly distorted from the alcohol coursing through her veins, she barely focused on the image of a dark haired man with a high forehead and close-set eyes framed by heavy bushy eyebrows. His straight nose ended in a small bulb, very attractive, she noticed in her state of acceptance. His heavy dark hair ended at his ears where scrubby looking grey sideburns took over, leading to his cleft chin. His full and sensuous mouth formed words she could not understand, and, recognizing the depravity of her state, he motioned with a crooked finger for her to follow.

Limply, Ann rose to her feet and after staggering a few feet, kicked off her shoes with a hearty laugh, but quickly stifled her sounds, remembering her girl friend Trudy making mad passionate love with an unidentified man on the bed. The stranger beside her guided her wobbling body through huge sliding doors. "Shall we go into my living room?" the stranger beckoned with an extra tug on her arm, warning her there was no alternative.

Ann couldn't prevent an involuntary intake of breath at the sudden flamboyance of her surroundings as she stepped down, nearly falling on her face, into the sunken living room. "My God!" she looked around in awe, "it's like a terrarium." Every inch of the spacious living room was covered with plants, hanging plants, potted plants, flowering plants, cacti, even blooming perennials.

Everything in the room looked like it had come from a museum.

The Swedish sofa sumptuously designed like a pair of huge red lips looked inviting and she plopped down on the softness of its sensuous form. Beneath her was a zebra skin rug artfully placed under the glass and silver metal table where a Wedgwood vase was crammed with poorly rolled cigarettes. Her eyes traced the smooth outlines of the marble fireplace that covered the entire wall, its brown streaks glistening in the sparkling light of the crackling fire, reflecting the blues and reds of its warm blaze. Through Ann's hazed eyes she spied twinkling lights in the distance. "Oh, you have a view!" she anxiously jumped to her unsteady feet.

"Do you like it, my dear?"

"Lovely, yes lovely." Her trembling hand cling to the heavy red velvet drapes attractively framing the wide veranda of the window. "Is this a Victorian?" she muttered in amazement. "Must be from the high ceilings." Ann raised her eyes to the high ceiling, decorated with crisscrosses of wood beams.

"I'm rather proud of it, myself," he admitted with no hint of modesty. "Why don't you sit down and have a drink with me?" he smiled crookedly.

"Oh, no thank you," Ann touched the back of her slender hand to her aching forehead. "An aspirin and a glass of water, no ... coffee ... please," she said politely, not forgetting her etiquette ingrained from two years of riding the skies.

"Nonsence," he growled teasingly; "how about some juice, and an aspirin," he added coolly.

He motioned for her to sit back down on the huge red lipped sofa that smiled across the room at her. "Have a seat, and I shall return immediately."

Ann sat stiffly, reassessing her situation. She was in a strange town, in a strange house, with a very strange man. With a deep heave of her chest, she scanned the room for a telephone. If nothing else, she could call her stewardess friend, Janie, and stay overnight at her apartment which she guessed was not far away. But before she could gather the strength to search for the hidden instrument, Mike had returned with a tray in hand.

"I'm sorry, but I neglected to introduce myself," he said with merry eyes. "My name is Mike Boston. Please call me Mike." A hint of animal desire in his eyes made her think she might not be leaving the confines of Mike's lovely trap.

"And I am Ann, Ann Bailey."

"Are you married, Ann?"

"No, no, I was ... for a few days and then ..." her voice trailed off into inaudible mutterings.

"I see," he said knowingly.

He was standing in front of her then, a drink in each hand. "Here we are, Ann. This will make you feel much better. Take a joint also, it helps this time of day."

Arm's red tipped fingers grasped the sweating glass, filled with ice and orange juice and the small cigarette on the table. Tilting her head she took a deep swallow and grimaced at the taste of alcohol polluting her fresh orange juice but the marijuana cigarette made her feel better. "It's a habit of mine, too," Mike said, his eyes studying the sensuous outline of her mouth and the way the smoke curled out of its soft-rimmed opening.

With a deliberate movement, he sat down on the couch beside her, patting her nylon-covered knee in mock affection. Then, sensing her almost simultaneous recoil from his unwanted touch, he withdrew his hand and smiled.

"You are a friend of Trudy's, is that correct?" His eyes refused to leave the red outline of her lips.

Ann felt a knot in her stomach, tightening mercilessly into a ball that kept growing, feeding on her fear and confusion. It had been eons ago since any man had actually made a pass at her, or was it since she'd let him?

He leaned back on the sofa and studied her proudly postured profile over the rim of his glass. "Tell me a little about yourself, Ann. How long have you been rooming with Trudy?" And then, as if to shroud his questioning probings with ignorance, said, "I don't know the girl personally myself, but. I have friends who are well acquainted."

"A ... about three years now," stammered Ann, now fully aware that something was astir as his stubby fingers reached for the pale blue Wedgwood vase and offered her a marijuana cigarette. "Oh, no thank you," she politely refused, "not when I'm already halfway there from the alcohol."

"Do you mind?" He lit one of the oily looking cigarettes. "I find it excellent for sex." He lifted his busy eyebrows and his dark eyes looked right through her. "Do you enjoy sex, Ann?" And seeing her nervous response as she wrung her trembling fingers about the glass, continued his probings. "How about a stag film? Have you ever seen one?"

"No ... no thank you, Mr. Boston ..."

"Please call me Mike, always."

Ann swallowed hard. There was no way out of this den of iniquity and she knew it. Oh, God I wish I were back in Boston, she thought silently.

Magically, Mike pressed a button on the same table-mounted control board that had switched off the lights, and instantly a motion picture screen began to unroll electronically from a space between the wood beams of the ceiling.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy this."

"No! I want to go visit my friend ..." and realizing her nervousness, restated her demand in a calmer voice. "Mr. Boston, I appreciate your hospitality, I enjoyed the cruise tremendously, but I don't feel up to watching any movies right now, and if you don't mind I am going to call my friend Janie and ask her if I could stay ..."

"Nonsense!" he boomed inches from her tender ear. "If you like, T have some things in my closet that might be a bit more comfortable ..."

"No, I'm fine, thank you," she chirped in a shrill voice as she clutched her low-necked evening gown, struggling to close the generous gap that filled his eyes with lust. Before she had the chance to mutter further protest, a pale blue peignoir was thrust in her face, and in her drunken state she rose and walked over to a broad leafed plant and slipped into the robe, leaving her dress in a heap on the floor.

"Much better, dear. We'll leave the rest for later."

"But I'm not wearing anything else!" she stammered. "Well, a garter belt and my nylons." Ann could feel her cheeks redden, even through the deep tan of her cheeks.

Ann was trapped and she knew it. It was that simple. Before, when she first stumbled into the living room, her attitude had been one of cool defiance, but now, she knew that she'd been fooling no one, not even herself. He'd seen through her nonchalant attitude in . a second, just as she'd seen through his false sophistication. God! how she had wanted to break through those locked doors and grab Trudy for the soonest plane and head back to Boston to the warm confines of her apartment. She was Mike Boston's toy for the evening and she knew it! Some friend Trudy is, she thought, leaving me like this.

Mike fumbled on the control board,, "This is one of my favorites, and I'm sure you will enjoy it equally." He pressed a button and a colored light knifed through the darkened living room. He sat down beside her on the sofa. "You're really a lovely woman, did you know that?"

At the sound of his words unraveling his plot like thread off a spool, she nervously tilted her glass and orange juice spilled on the zebra rug in a huge orange blob. "Oh, I'm so very sorry," she said, bending over to wipe it up with a kleenex from her bag.

Her breasts, dangling and free, swayed ponderously before her tilted torso, glistening in the meager light from the screen. A muffled hum came from the wall adjacent to the fireplace where the hidden camera projector-apparently set and ready for action at the flick of a switch-let off its bright beam.

Mike continued to puff wild circles of grey smoke in her direction and offered her a taste after each of his own long drags. His insistence was draining her strength and soon she was puffing away with him, passing the joint back and forth as if it were her normal behavior. Anything, she thought, to get out of here!

"Come sit on my lap, Ann," he beckoned her with an insistence not to be challenged.

The thought of this sleazy man putting his hands on her naked flesh was enough to send ripples of hesitation coursing through her body, and for a moment she thought she would have to excuse herself and head in the direction of the not yet discovered bathroom. It was too bizarre for words, thought Ann.

She felt his hands on her narrow waist, felt him drawing her to him, felt the stiff and obvious bulge beneath his slacks.

The movie was already in progress, but she could tell she hadn't missed much. The girl, a young Chinese, sat on a red tipped couch ... Christi he had filmed it right here, and she was reading a book and sucking on a popsicle. She was wearing a pair of blood red doll pajamas, and apparently naked underneath.

"That's my ex-secretary," quipped Mike, breathing huskily into Ann's ear, his hand lopping sinisterly around her narrow waist.
Ann sat speechless.

The young Chinese, was really beautiful. She had long, long black hair, and the most radiant olive complexion Ann had ever seen. Her eyes, glimmering black, sparkled mischievously as she read her Playgirl magazine, now spreading the center fold out so her anticipated audience could appreciate the blond Nordic male who sat lewdly naked in a sailboat, with only a sailor's cap on his blond head. The girl in the movie turned the pages quickly now, and with the other hand gripped the popsicle. Her lush sensual lips, coated thickly with deep red lipstick, slicked up and down over the shaft of the red popsicle in an obvious parody of sexual intercourse. The camera zoomed in for an extreme close-up of the girl's fleshy lips clinging provocatively to the penis-like fruit on the outstroke.

"I'm a photographer, did you know?" Mike boasted.

Suddenly a man appeared on the screen, a black man. The girl in the movie appeared frightened then, and Ann jumped as she felt Mike's hand on her naked breast, surreptitiously slipped under the blue peignoir unnoticed moments before. But Ann knew it was inevitable; there was no way she could leave that room unscathed and she vowed to make the best of it. In her nervousness, she suggested another joint as the first had left her pleasantly light-headed and more accepting of her fate.

Mike continued his ministrations, he squeezed her breasts, pinched her nipples to an infinite hardness, and then he took one puffy beige nipple into his evil mouth and began to suck on it with a lewd wet sound. It had been so long, too long, since any man had. been allowed the treasure of her sweet body and although she knew it was evil, that it would do her no good, she did not protest. It felt undeniably good!

The black man on the screen wore a trench coat with nothing beneath. He shrugged it off of his massive, hair-covered shoulders, letting it drop to a crumpled heap at his feet. From the rear, he looked like a huge ape, the blackness of his body and the curly hair of his chest made Ann gasp. At a closer glance, his enormous buttocks, flabby and the color of coal, dimpled obscenely as the black man approached the cowering girl.

Mike continued sucking on her swollen breasts, and in a position as lewd as the girl she was watching on the screen, Ann took another long hit off the joint and held her breath to the count of ten. Her mind reeled and whirled in dancing colors that flickered off the colored screen.

Her attention returned to the screen where the girl's hand covered her mouth in a rather convincing display of stark terror. Ann could feel her own lush buttocks quiver nervously on Mike's lap as she straddled him sideways, her hand now around his shoulders, her fingers playing idly in the curly hair at the nape of his neck as he continued to suck her now heaving breasts with mounting enthusiasm.

With her free hand, Ann put out the marijuana cigarette. She felt like rubber; she could be played with and stretched to any imaginable degree, and she'd feel nothing but numbness. Her attention was captured now by the black man on the screen whose lust-swollen penis jutted straight out from the matted thick hair of his loins like a spear head. It looked at least ten inches long ... and still growing!

"Do you like to watch people make love?" Mike's soothing voice sounded like the innocent purr of a sleeping kitten.

"Yes, yessss."

The head of the black man's penis was as large as a nectarine and equally brilliant in color. It glistened ominously as it approached the cringing girl's mouth.

Skillfully now, Mike inched his gentle, yet powerful, hand toward the tender flesh of the blonde stewardess' naked white thighs that squeezed together so provocatively up above her stocking tops. With each rapid breath now, the marshmallow succulence of her well-sucked breasts melted into the features of his shadowed face. Her nipples, stiff as spikes, grew out of their puffy surroundings like tiny clitorises eager to be sucked.

Mike Boston laughed silently to himself. He'd seen this type before: the beauty queen trapped in an early marriage, loses her husband and clings desperately to the dream of meeting another man to fill that hole in her life: He'd seen the signs in most of his call girls; it was an old story. He had her now! She was mesmerized by the film and she was his new toy.

The black man reached forward and cruelly grabbed the Chinese girl's luxuriant mane of shimmering dark hair in his dark hand, jerking her head back viciously. His other hand shot forward in a tooth-jarring backhand that would have sent the girl sprawling backward but for his grip on her hair.

"Look at his penis, Ann. Does it look any different?"

"It's ... my God! It's bigger!"

"He's a sadist," said Mike with measured precision.

Ann's trembling buttocks, naked below the clinching black strip of her garter belt, wriggled nervously on Mike's lap. She could feel the huge bulge beneath her thighs pulse and expand heatedly, and knew immediately what it was. Yet, curiously enough, there was something thrilling about being so close to the penis of a truly evil man, to feel it pressing against her naked flesh through the tweed of his slacks.

Her eyes returned to the screen again where, gripping his glistening gargantuan shaft by the base, the monstrous man was beginning to rub the blood-engorged head of his cock on the cringing girl's face, paying most attention to her full red lips, until her features began to shine with the sticky white nectar he smeared on them. Her eyes, opened wide and fluttered in anxious lustful desire.

"My God!" gasped Ann. "She really enjoys it!"

Then, miraculously, the ruby-red head of the giant's penis popped inside the straining lips of the Chinese girl. Somehow, though, it was beyond Ann's understanding, a cold shudder of delight spasmed deep in her own loins. It was exciting to watch that poor girl being subjected to evil ... a strange kind of evil that was thrilling ... just as she was almost being forced to stay in this apartment.

"She loves it, Ann, don't fool yourself."

Mike's lewdly searching hand was on her tingling pussy now, rubbing and probing with lingering delight. His fingers began to part the silken blonde curls of her pubic hair.

"Mr. Boston, really ..."

"I'm going to finger fuck you, Ann," he rasped brokenly in her ear. "Would you like that, while you watch the girl suck that man's big thick cock?"

Oh, God, it was happening! What should she say? What could she say?

"Yes, I mean, n ... yessss."

Mike Boston chuckled to himself as he felt between her thighs and pressed his middle finger slowly up into Ann's already passionately seeping pussy flesh. The powers of suggestion always seem to work best with the- sophisticates, he mused with sadistic pleasure. He felt her distended clitoris slip wetly forward to make searing contact with his probing hand as his middle finger entered her easily and wormed its way up into her unresisting vagina to the depth of his palm, and then slipped a second finger up in beside the first.

"Watch the movie, Ann. See how she sucks that cock! Look at her saliva spilling out of the corners of her mouth because there is no room for anything but his prick in there!" he purred in her ear, pronouncing each word carefully for full effect.

Long delicious minutes passed, and Mike's fingers had churned Ann's milking cunt-flesh into a virtual froth. The girl in the movie continued sucking on the black man's unnaturally massive cock, swallowing her own saliva to keep from gagging. His lust-bloated rod of flesh reached far back into her throat. He came ... and came ... and came. She sucked and sucked and swallowed in animal desire.

"Oh God!" Ann had never seen a stag film before and she found it strangely provocative.

"Like it, Ann? Don't you wish you were sucking a cock like that? A big, hard, thick cock, oozing with love juices. How long has it been Ann?"

"Oh, please. I can't watch anymore." Ann was losing ground fast and she knew it, even through her swimming mind.

Ann covered her eyes with her hands and began to sob. She was betraying herself, and the memory of her dear Paul, by allowing herself to be subjected to such filth. Her self-inflicted reprimands were short-lived, however; before she knew what was happening she was on her back on the couch with the beaming Mike Boston glowering over her in the dim light of the fire -- now that the awful movie was finally over. She could sense him rummaging around in a hidden compartment under the sofa.

"There it is," Mike muttered in growling tones. Ann's hands now lying limply at her sides, she had a full view of the next torturous toy of this madman. A giant dildo, a plastic cock, bigger than life! It was at least nine inches long and nearly two inches thick and had a three foot long handle at the end that he could control by several buttons.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Ann had pleaded. He was insane, she was convinced of that. But did he have to kill her with that? No woman could take a monstrous cock like that up into her cunt! She watched, her eyes wide, her mouth open and screaming, as the giant plastic cock came forward and she felt its brutal size and strength at the tender opening of her cunt.

"Don't worry, my dear. It's well oiled," Mike smiled sadistically down at the contorted face of the blonde woman spread helplessly beneath his power.

It came relentlessly forward, spreading the lips of her pussy, spreading them wide and tight in a perfect circle around the head. It continued to spread the lips as the huge rubbery head burrowed slowly up inside, aided by the oil and her own excitement. The walls of her vagina were spread until she felt excruciating pressure and felt she would burst.

With a smooth, wet sluicing sound, the cockhead slid slowly up into her cant and the lips of her vagina stretched taut and white, like rubber bands, around the artificial shaft. Slowly, the great plastic head began to pull out and she realized then that it was on a great mechanical shaft. Another of his tricks!

The hard voice of Mike Boston shattered through the pressure of the cock sunk deep up between her thighs. "In a little while, you're going to beg for more and more and more."

She groaned aloud as the plastic cock started forward again, fucking deep up into her and slowly withdrawing. She groaned again, wracked with a helpless feeling, seeing stars and begging with him when she could catch her breath.

To answer her pleading cries, Mike increased the depth and tempo of the rhythmically fucking instrument and she felt him tickling her nipple with his free hand. A great growing sense of lewdness and pleasure deep inside her quivering belly rose to meet and mingle with the hesitation she was feeling. Gone were all thoughts and memories of Paul, of a life that could have been.

Then, with a final jerk forward the dildo plunged home and as she felt it press hard up against her cervix, she moaned a deep, low, moan at the momentary pressure. Stars, like pinwheels of light danced in front of her face and she blinked her bugging eyes and saw the great cock, its realistic-looking shaft glistening with her cant's moisture, retracting from her and the lips of her vagina peeling outward with it; and rolling them back, revealing parts of her soft pink cant flesh as it did so. Then it plunged teasingly back in again, rolling ends of her soft blonde pubic curls into her cant with it. The tempo and speed increased and she couldn't protest because she was fighting for her breath with each stroke.

Her strength and resistance broke down as the dildo began pumping in and out. Faster and faster it went, bigger than any real cock and much faster. It could go on all night! It was impossible to stop or fight and, as she relaxed, wincing against the pressure, she felt an evil enjoyment, a tactile, lewd, devilish enjoyment of the artificial cock fucking her, something, an animal sound, a half-moan, half-whimper, escaped from her throat. She stared, with glazed eyes and watched the huge dildo slither obscenely up into her cant and pull out again, jerking her back and forth. She was beginning to feel a wild pleasure beyond description. This hurt, but it hurt good! Better than anything she had ever felt before! She was trapped and the artificial dildo drove home with such force that her body and breasts gave a lascivious leap and his massaging of her nipples sent a thrill down to her loins where the huge phallus was preparing to fuck up into her wide-spread cant again. A loose, wanton smile formed on her lips and she felt herself straining forward to accept the next long inward fuck as the machine increased its tempo and she felt adrift, abandoned, wanton, fucking wildly back at the machine while Mike watched and gloated.

His mouth next to her ear, he asked, "You like that, Ann?" She moaned and finally hissed, "Yesssss!"

"Would you like some more?"

Sweating, her teeth gritting, her face twisted with lust, she nodded and the tempo increased and her eyes rolled in her head and her mouth fell open in a low moan.

"Is that better than anyone you've ever been fucked by?" Mike asked, his voice breathy and high.

Her mouth was open and wet and her tongue licked at her dry lips as she drooled and moaned as the great cock plunged on and she felt her body tensing in anticipation of the orgasm that would course through her.

"Answer me!"

She nodded and breathed in a husky voice, "Better!"

"Better than who?" he asked in that strange voice. "Who? Better than any man you've ever had? Tell me!" he commanded sadistically.

"Better," she breathed again, feeling an odd pleasing shudder go through her body.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked.

Ann shook her head and closed her eyes. She didn't want to think, only to feel that thing plunging into her cant while she spread her long silken legs wide and enjoyed it to the fullest.

"Your husband," Mike whispered in her ear. "Better than your husband?"

A sob bubbled in her throat and tears smarted in her eyes. She shook her head quickly. For an answer, Mike increased the rhythm of the cock, sending her higher, spinning her into space where she was fucked beyond belief. "Agggghhhhhaaaaa."

"Better than your husband?" he shouted over her scream and Ann heard herself say, "Yes! Goddamn it, you!" And she felt herself slip into a mindless animal lewdness. Yes! Nothing had ever fucked her like this before and the humiliation and debasement she was going through was beautiful! Lewd and beautiful as her whole body tensed and trembled as the tempo increased even more and she was past caring or knowing anything other than the compelling desire to cum.

"Say it!" Mike shouted, up by her head now, the dildo fucking furiously into her hungrily devouring cant.

"Yes!" she moaned as she felt her head being tilted back again. "Better than my dead husband! Much better than anybody! Oh God!"

Her cries were stifled as her head was tilted far back and she saw his cock, hard and erect in his hand. Yes, she wanted his cock! Opening her mouth, she closed her lips over the swollen tip, feeling it hot and hard in her mouth, and she sucked while her tongue twirled over the rubbery head. Holding her head in his hands, Mike looked down at her lovely twisting and writhing form with delight. She was his, helplessly hot now, and he could do anything he wanted with her.

His lips twitched back and forth as he panted, and with a sharp high yell, he pumped his hot thick cum into her mouth as he came again and again.

His body shuddered and he slumped against her, his eyes half closed, watching with pleasure as she sucked him dry and strained on to her own orgasm ...

"Whew!" Ann leaned against the high wooden table in the library now, chewing on the pencil end. That was so long ago, she sighed with deep relief. She winced then as she recalled how her strange and evil relationship with Mike Boston had not ended, but only begun with strange exciting tricks hidden in every corner of his Pacific Heights Victorian mansion. Party after lewd party was followed with strange lovemaking, wicked and evil. She had become his property, his private entertainment to be shared with his friends and his body guards at the flick of a finger. So convincing and diabolical was he, that he had even rented her an apartment in San Francisco as well as maintaining her residence in Boston, and even changed her flight schedule to coincide with his wishes and demands. But she had loved it, difficult to admit though it was. It filled that vacuum in her life adequately, and, at that time, that was all she wanted out of life.

A list of call numbers scribbled down, she picked up her load of books and tucked them into her straw bag and headed for the stacks, reminding herself that it was all past history, never to be repeated.



Chapter 2

"Your stack permit, miss!" The blonde librarian looked up at the luscious looking woman fumbling through her straw bag, madly searching for her wallet. Christ! he thought, look at those breasts! His heart pounded and he straightened his posture, breathing deeply.

"Okay, go ahead," he motioned for her to pass through the wooden gate, turning his head to see her disappear into the narrow passageway of the stacks, a privileged area of the library reserved for students with a B average.

Ann pulled back her blonde hair to free her vision for the task of searching row after countless row of volumes for the sociology section. "Ah ha!" she said aloud, checking the numbers on her list against those crudely scrawled in white ink on the spines of the books.

"Find what you want?" a voice said from behind her.

Go away and leave me alone, she thought. It was nothing new or exciting for her anymore to have male students, even professors, come up behind her and offer assistance to open doors, reach books on the higher shelves, or pick up papers scattered by the wind. But that voice, that voice sounded strangely familiar. No, impossible, and she continued checking the call numbers.

"Aren't you even going to turn around to look at me, Ann?" a deep husky voice pronounced each syllable with utmost distinction.

No, it couldn't be, she reassured herself. But that ... that voice. Her hand shook as she reached for SOC 121 MB3.

"Ann, rise to your feet!" It was like the voice of God, not to be denounced.

Then she knew, the horrible reality loomed before her, and taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet her pounding heart, she rose to her feet, her back still to her aggressor. She slowly turned then, pencil and paper in hand, and greeted the sardonically smiling face of MIKE BOSTON!

"What ... what are you doing here?" she whispered, feeling herself pale beneath the deep golden tan. "How, how did you know ..." her voice trailed off into inaudible syllables that made no sense to her or to the grinning devilish face staring at her unblinking.

"Have you forgotten, Ann, who you're dealing with?" His voice rose a decibel.

"Shhh!" Ann put her trembling finger to her mouth to silence him mockingly. "Be quiet or I'll lose my stack permit. Christ, it's the only place on this campus to study without being ogled at."

"If you want," he chuckled loudly, "I'll buy this damned library. I'll buy this whole damned campus if necessary."

It was as if her thoughts had made the past present ... but hopefully; she gasped, not the future! She'd heard of such occurrences, but never dreamed it would happen to her, that her power of thought could bring those thoughts into human form, like Mike Boston standing inches away.

"I want to talk to you, Ann."

I'll bet you do, she thought fearfully. After she met John, her present husband, she left her life with Mike Boston behind ... but without his permission.

"No, I have nothing to discuss with you," she almost snarled through tightly clenched teeth. "It's all over. I never want to see you again:"

He grabbed her forearm, hard. "You have no control over me. I'm married and I love my husband."

His grip tightened in response. "If you want to stay married, you'll listen to me."

He had her then, and she knew it. All too well. John was the understanding sort, she reassured herself silently, but Mike possessed that typical macho attitude that made his ego snap in half at any refusal or lack of respect. "Why ... why don't we step into one of these cubicles." She pointed to the small cage-like metal holes in the walls intended for studying. Bending over too quickly to retrieve her pencil and paper that had flown out of her hand at the shock of his grip, she saw tiny spots of light flickering in every corner of her vision and for a second she thought she might pass out. She hesitated a moment to regain her failing strength.

Together they huddled into the small confines of the cubicle and, whispering, he related the purpose of his mission.

"I understand your husband is flying internationally, is that correct?" He grinned at her with eyes of steel. She nodded her head in affirmation, never daring to look him in the eye for fear he would cast another of his spells on her helpless body. After all, wasn't that what got her into this mess in the first place? ... his overpowering gaze, like knives stabbing you in the back with each unapproved move.

"Well, I have a mission for him ..." He was interrupted by Ann's head flailing back and forth in disbelief, knowing what would come next.

"No, I won't let him get involved in any of your illegal activities. He's waited so long and done such politicking to get his new assignment. I won't let him. No!" she announced affirmatively hoping to God her obdurate behavior would stifle his plans.

"Listen to me, you bitch!" Mike snarled impatiently and then regaining his composure continued in his softly convincing manner, "You remember Trudy and all the beautiful times we had together?"

Ann blushed even through her deep tan. "Yes," she acknowledged blandly, her eyes falling to rest on the linoleum covered table top inscribed with carved graffiti. Trudy ... she thought silently; how long had it been since she'd seen her old friend and stewardess pal? With concern, she wondered if Trudy was still working or if her paid activities had been exposed to the airline supervisor which, of course, would bring her career -- her flying career -- to an end.

"Need I say more?" Mike smiled. "It's up to you, Ann. It's your choice. Either you get your husband to fly for me or it's all over for both of you. What would John's boss think if he knew his wife ..."

Ann's sobs broke his thought. "Okay, what do I have to do?" she asked, acknowledging her defeat. She clenched her fists till her long painted nails dug into her soft fleshy palm.

With deliberation, Mike unraveled his plans for a flight to Columbia, which John would take alone in a well-equipped private plane paid for by Mike. There, in Bogotá, he would pick up an unidentified cargo and, flying low, so low he would not be detected by radar as he crossed the border, fly the cocaine to Chula Vista, California, where connections would relieve him of his illicit burden.

Ann could hear no more. "No way," she moaned in desperate agony, realizing the consequences of such a proposition. "I can't ask that of John, he's been so ..."

"Shut up and listen to me!" snapped Mike. "It's money, big money! Every fucking guard has been paid off from San Francisco to Bogotá and back again."

"But why? Why John? You must know thousands of pilots who could do the same willingly," she whined between sobs.

"He's got the credentials. He's Mr. America, you blind woman. He's got clearance from the CIA on down. Eagle Scout, Purple Heart, no, two Purple Hearts ..." he read from a paper that Ann guessed was Mike's personally prepared dossier on her husband. "Need I go on?"

Ann shook her head. She was had, as always, by Mike Boston.

"I'll be generous; I'll give you a week to convince your husband. How you do it is your business, but do it!" And, from the cords straining in his aging neck, she knew he meant business. "Just tell him it means money, more money than he can imagine. More money than that fat-assed mother of his will leave him."

Christ, he knew everything. He'd spared nothing in digging up information.

"I'll leave my number in case you need me. Don't bother ... I already have yours," he smiled crookedly at the tear-stained face of the blonde woman who, just a few years back, would have begged him, pleaded for him to let her suck him, fuck him, anything to please his wicked desires, but now she sat stiffly, seeing nothing but blackness in front of her as her bleak future.

"I'll be waiting ..." and with no warning he rose to his feet and disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared.

Numbly, Ann rose to shaking feet, her legs nearly failing her as she gathered up her school books, now seeming mockingly inconsequential and meaningless, and headed for the parking lot to go home and think.

"Shit!" she blurted loudly as she pulled out the parking ticket tucked under the windshield wiper, tearing it in her fury. "Another ticket! Two more and I can't park here any more!" What else can go wrong, she sighed, feeling like a puppet on strings. Two exams tomorrow, a speech to prepare for next week, and, and Mike Boston to contend with! She wished to hell she could change her past, but realizing that was a useless speculation, she revved up the engine of her red Volkswagen convertible, her angry foot mercilessly pumping up the accelerator. "That's for you Mike Boston, you son of a bitch!" and she screeched out of the parking lot.

It was not Ann Barot who drove over the Golden Gate Bridge, forgetting to slow for the toll gate, and it wasn't Ann Barot who contemplated hiring someone to knock off Mike Boston. If he were standing in front of her now, she'd run him over without blinking an eye; she might even back up and smash him a second time, she thought seethingly, almost missing her turn-off for Mill Valley.

John will be home tonight, she thought, minutes later, bending over to give her German Shepherd, Dante, a scratch behind his perky ear. "What am I going, to do?" she asked her loving pet, his deeply soft brown eyes reflecting her concern and anguish.

Clawing through her straw bag like a scared cat, she fumbled for her house keys, all the while her head reeled with plans and evil diabolical ways of convincing her faithful husband to risk his career and maybe his life -- she choked on her thoughts -- for the sake of their marriage. Was it worth it? Should she just pack up and run away? No, Mike would follow her -- he'd find her.

Plopping her weary body onto the nearest chair, she sipped on her iced tea and squished an extra wedge of lemon into the sensuous brown liquid, cooling and refreshing her parched throat. With a swift turn of her foot, she pivoted the swivel rocker and, pulling open the red plaid drapes dressing the wood paneled wall, stared blindly out over the tree topped view of Mt. Tamalpais. How could she explain this to John? What would Mike do if she refused? No, she couldn't do that; Mike had too much evidence on her and all he'd have to do was pick up the phone and call John's employer and it would be all over for his career anyway.
Maybe I'll prepare him a luxurious dinner and get all dressed up in his favorite ... no, that was too obvious, too unoriginal. She sighed deeply, her chest heaving against her pounding heart. There's only one way to get to a man, a lesson she'd learned years ago, and that's in bed. Yes, she'd tell him the plan and then seduce him. Yeah, a few drinks first just to warm him up.

Hours later she sat in the same chair, still overlooking the spaciousness of the empty sky now approaching sunset, her mood a repetition of her afternoon's torment. She examined herself in the full mirror next to the fireplace. Yes, this should do it! she thought as she studied her image, a provocative image of a full length evening gown secured in the front by a single circle which gathered the fabric from the front, attaching it to the bikini strapless top that barely covered the melon-like mounds of her sumptuous breasts. The back was bare to well below her waist, her hour-glass waist, she mused as she stood up to primp her hair. She ran her long slender fingers over the outline of her body, lending her needed confidence. Picking up her Tequila Sunrise for a sip to help slow her pounding heart, she heard a key turn in the door. This was it!

"Darling!" Ann ran to her husband, still handsomely dressed in his pilot's uniform, and threw her lithe tanned arms around his neck.

"What's this?" he chuckled pleasantly, "I thought you had a couple of exams tomorrow?"

She loosened her grip. "Oh yes," she stammered, "but I've already studied. I wanted to have some time alone with you tonight."

"Sounds good to me," he bent down, giving her a peck on the cheek and, moving with slow steps so typical of the cautious pilot, sat down in the rocker. Ann watched her husband as he slowly removed his hat and cradled it on one knee. He returned her glance.

"What's up?" he beamed, showing off his generous full mouth and pearly white teeth set off by the deepness of his olive skinned tan.

"Guess what?" she feigned happiness, "I ran into an old friend of mine from my old days when I was a stewardess and ..." she cleared her throat, hoping the three drinks would lend her the courage to go through with her evil plan. ". . . and he wants you to fly a charter job for him." She gulped down the remains of her glass sitting next to John on the marble end table.

"Sounds good, honey, but I really don't feel like discussing flying tonight. Had a hard flight," he said, wiping his beaded forehead with the back of his large hand. "Those thirteen hour flights are real killers."

"How about a drink?" Ann rushed toward the refrigerator of her rustic kitchen that she had so proudly decorated herself. On one shelf of the kitchen butch she displayed her collection of cook books -- a collection accumulated from years of John's and her flying. Ann fancied herself a gourmet cook and, so far, no one had disputed her domestic claim to fame. Against the other wall was a walnut stained cabinet filled with copper pots and pans, measuring cups, spoons and bowls. These, too, were gifts from John. Everything in the house echoed John, his generosity, his kindness, his concern for his lovely wife of whom he was so rightly proud. Her heart sank as she poured him a glass of fine French wine, specially purchased for the spell she was about to cast over him. Like a witch, she thought, disgusted with herself as she set the cork down, allowing the wine to `breathe' before his second glass. I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself: the words were carved in bold letters in her mind; she felt like Hawthorne's doomed female in The Scarlet Letter.

"Here you are, darling," she whirled toward the living room with a large crystal wine glass in her graceful hand.

"Thanks, honey," he pulled his wife to his knee and set his glass down on the end table with a crackle as it slapped the marble.

"Tell me about school, little woman of mine. How's it going? That fool professor ... what's his name? Still following you around?" He laughed amusedly at the thought of all those professors and pubescent fraternity boys running after his wife with their tongues hanging out of their thirsty mouths and cocks growing inch by surprising inch at the sight of his voluptuously breasted wife, who, knowing her sexual appeal, flaunted her stuff just to get a reaction. He'd seen that in stewardesses before. Christi He'd seen enough of them, probably more than his faithful wife would like to know about.

"Only once. Saw him just once today." Ann reached for her near empty glass and, finding it empty, settled for the cherry at the bottom which she teasingly sucked into her mouth and, kissing her husband wetly, slipped it between his teeth.

"Jesus! You're in a reckless mood tonight."

Now was her chance. "I'm just thinking about all the money you could make if you would take just one flight."

"Yeah," he sighed boringly, "I've heard about these flights. You fly low under the radar so they can't get you and you end up dead from air currents pulling you down. Most end up in flames."

Ann jumped as if a million watts of electricity had zapped her slender torso. It was too real, too agonizingly real! Her first husband, Paul's twinkling blue eyes flashed before her like a bolt of lightning. His perky red hair and that silly cowlick and his broad, toothy grin. No, she shuddered, she couldn't let that happen again, no matter what Mike Boston did to her. Ann took the cue, the ominous reality, and dropped the subject. There was time.

"Have you eaten?"

"No. Not hungry yet. Except ..." he drew her down close to him, her breasts crushing against his muscular chest. "Come here, you little school girl, you sexy thing! Tell your husband what you learned in anatomy. Show me!" he teased. He reached for his wine goblet and tilted it in the way of a salute and tossed the drink off and leaped to his feet with surprising quickness and ease, Ann's arms still clasped around his thick muscular neck. In a few strides, he was at their bedroom door and he snapped it shut. "That's so Dante doesn't come nosing around like usual." He set Ann back on her feet as he slipped off his shirt. Ann stood up leaning against the bedpost, disappointed with her unconvincing argument that would free her, free them both from her ugly disgusting past. He came back to her then and took her in his arms with such a force and strength that she gasped for breath. He kissed her hard on the mouth, running his tongue in between her teeth as she fought to get her breath.

He let her go and she staggered back, losing her balance and sprawling on the bed. He was on top of her in an instant, his strong body crushing hers as he kissed her mouth, face and neck and his hand massaged her breasts. He jumped up and seemed, suddenly, inexplicably, casual as he started to undress. He looked down at her with a little grin on one corner of his mouth. "Better get that dress off."

Ann stood up and, looking at her husband, pulled her strapless dress down over her well tanned body, and stood before him in her white lace bikini panties. John's eyes glimmered as he took in his wife's voluptuous form, her panties barely covering her swollen pussy mound. She turned slowly, exposing her bare buttocks with the flimsy panties biting deep into the crack between her cheeks.

"You're one hell of a woman," he purred salaciously. "And you know it too, you little bitch!" He stared at her full, round breasts. "Bet you could get a man to do anything you damned well pleased with that body of yours:" He ran his tongue over his lips in anxious anticipation.

Ann sighed, her melon-like breasts growing inches as she held her breath for a brief moment. Just about anything, she thought mournfully, except coerce you into making that one flight.

She watched her shirtless husband placing his hands on her breasts. "Not bad," he murmured, "not bad at all for a married woman:" Playfully, his hands pinched at her cripples and she felt them leap into life, sending a bolt of warmth and wetness down into her vagina.

"You love to show off your body, don't you?" he whispered wetly into her small ear, brushing against her gold loop earring.

With a grin, she unzipped his pants and undid his belt and watched as his pants fell to the floor with a clink of change and keys. John stood in his underwear, his penis growing underneath, and looked down. His easy laughter filled the room. "Ever notice how ridiculous a man looks with his pants down around his ankles!" he quipped.

Ann put her hand to her mouth and giggled. It was true, there was something absurd about it. He stepped out of his pants and pulled off his underwear and stood before her naked, his cock swelling as she watched it. It was a huge cock. Her husband had the biggest cock she had ever seen! It was almost as big as Mike's infamous dildo he had used on her that first night. She cringed at the thought. But this was real! With a little pleased sound she took it in her hands and lovingly caressed it and stroked the skin back so that the red mushroom head bulged out.

With a happy cry, she sank to her knees fn front of him, the cock still in her hands, and rubbed it all over her naked breasts and neck and face. Then, settling into position, she held it straight out in front of her and let the tip of her tongue slide slowly out and lick the head of his cock. She closed her eyes and tasted the cum -- one little drop -- that was glistening in the tiny end-slit. It tasted so good. Her lips formed a perfect oval and she pushed her head forward, feeling his desire-swollen rod pushing against her lips, feeling him pump his hips slowly forward as his hands tangled his fingers in her hair. With a rush, her lips gave and she opened her mouth wide and took all the thick hot cock she could. It filled her mouth and slid easily back into her throat, and she fought against choking as she began to gently suck, her lips stroking the tender flesh slowly back and forth. John didn't have to move as she worked her lips, tongue and jaw to slip his foreskin back and forth in her-mouth, his blood filled cock-head popping in and out. Above her, she heard him catch his breath and mutter, "Jesus, woman, you're one hell of a wife!"

Freeing her hands, she cradled his balls with one hand while the other slowly reached behind him, felt his hard-muscled thigh, and slowly started up until she found his buttocks clenched tight together. Slowly, with one finger extended, she began boring in, trying to find and touch his anus while she increased the rhythm and intensity of her sucking. She felt his cock swelling even bigger in her mouth, forcing her jaw open wider and her lips clamped around the shaft like two taut rubber bands.

Her finger found his anus and she heard his groan as she flicked lightly over it. With another deeper groan, he pushed her head away and, lifting her by the armpits, raised her high and. threw her on the bed.

Ann sprawled with her long blonde hair tossed across the covers, one knee up. John, his face taut with passion, was hovering over her, pulling off the flimsy white panties with a jerk and falling on top of her.

She opened her legs wide enough to feel his cock nestle between them, and then she squeezed her thighs shut and felt his wetly throbbing hardness caught in her warm soft pussy-flesh. As he caressed her breasts, cupping one so that he could bend his head and gently bite and suck on the nipple, she began undulating, moving her thighs and hips, teasing his tortured cock as she engulfed it again and she gyrated more, feeling his body hard and heavy on her. Then, opening her thighs just a little and forcing her hands down underneath her so that they cupped the cheeks of her buttocks, she slid them under until her finger-tips could feel the swollen lips of her soft, curl-fringed cunt. God, she thought, I'm so wet! He won this round, she mused, thinking only of the muscular torso hovering over her.

Slowly, she pulled her desire-swollen cunt apart, allowing her cherry-red vaginal lips to roll out and feel the shaft of his cock burying itself lengthwise along the hungering slit of her pussy. Then she let go and squeezed her thighs shut tight again with all her strength.

She exulted in the feeling of having his cock caught in her slippery cunt and she pumped her hips and shimmied her thighs as she heard his breathing coming heavy and hard. He slipped one arm under her waist and pulled her tight toward him, curving her back and forcing her breasts to jut out even further. Then she felt his other hand creeping down her back, feeling its way down her spine and then forcing, wedging down in between her firm full buttocks and the bed. His middle finger felt the soft, smooth crevice up between her ass cheeks and slid downward.

With a moan, she let her thighs relax and slowly spread her legs wide. She wanted him, she wanted his cock slamming inside of her. She spread her legs as wide as they would go and bent her knees, feeling a trickle of the secretions of her cunt seeping down between the bunched cheeks of her buttocks and felt it, warm and exciting, flowing over her tightly puckered anus. A little cry of delight bubbled out of her throat as she felt his finger slide up and press on her anal entrance, and she squirmed her buttocks and bent her knees even more, pulling them back so that her cunt and anus were exposed as much as possible to him. Again, she felt the delicious experience of giving in; of being submissive, of letting someone do what he wanted with her. The only thing that was missing was the humiliation, but the size and ferocity of his penis would more than make up for it. God, she thought, I want to be fucked by this man, this husband of mine till I'm blind! She closed her eyes and crooned and wished that every man in the world, her father included, would walk through that door right now and see her getting fucked.

"Oh, John," she crooned, "fuck me, do what-ever you want to me, fuck me all night!"

John responded by putting the head of his cock against her cunt and rubbing it massively up and down, tossing her clitoris around in a maddening way. She began pumping her hips, eager to get that huge lust-engorged cock inside her, hoping it would fill her and fuck her all night. "I love to fuck!" she whispered in his ear.

In answer, he pushed his hips down and forward and the huge head of his cock easily spread the lips of her vagina. She was ready and willing and begging. Ann felt her breath leaving her body exactly as if she were falling in a high speed elevator and she made a breathy sound as she felt his huge cock sliding and swelling inside of her cunt, stretching her vaginal walls in a delicious sensual way. And still it slid in, its passage made easy by her lubrication and desire to be fucked.

It seemed like it could go no farther and still it came, making her feel as giddy and hot as the top of a cast iron stove. No cock in the whole world could be that long! Still it came, bludgeoning at last against her cervix and bringing a spasm of momentary pain that delighted and excited her and made her flare her nostrils and moan, "Oh, John, fuck me, fuck me with all you've got!"

And John, his face aroused and alight with passion, began sawing his thick long cock in and out and Ann closed her eyes and felt as if she were a kid again on a roller coaster going down one dip to climb to the next, then, holding her breath she felt the hurtling wild plunge downward and she screamed with a wild abandon and delight. "Fuuuccckkkmmmeeee!"

John started slowly, gradually building the tempo, getting her hips and torso moving in rhythm to his, taking her along on a ride, building her to where she was wailing constantly while her fingernails clawed at his back and her body undulated and rippled in sensuous abandon.

Timing his move to just the right second, he sank his thick cock all the way home as she threw her head back and moaned wildly and thrust her hips up to take it all. The thick shaft of his cock had spread her cunt wide and she used all her strength to contract her vaginal lips around the glistening wet shaft and then trembled in place, each of them using all their strength to hold the pose.

Then, with a quick movement, he plunged his middle finger home into the tightly clenched walls of her rectum and Ann's mouth fell open and a long throaty cry came from her lips. "Aaaaaaggggghhhhh!"

And then, his finger moving and squirming deep up in her tight little asshole, he began fucking her savagely, his balls slapping against her exposed buttocks as he lifted her off the bed and slammed her down deep into the mattress and her natural resilience forced her up again to meet his cock ramming deep into her. Ann saw stars and his face seemed a blur in front of her eyes as she felt herself cumming with a rush, cumming with an orgasm that would be impossible to resist.

Her mouth flew open and her head thrashed wildly back and forth as her eyes rolled white in her head and she felt her body tensing; arching up as the orgasm came and twisted her body convulsively like a stick thrown into a roaring fire. "I ... I ... I'm cumming!" she moaned then screamed with delight as she felt every nerve in her body tingle and her flesh turn to soft, doughy rubber as her cunt jerked and twitched around the great cock and she came and kept cumming as he fucked her harder, hurting her now with his savage lustful strength.

And she kept cumming, again and again as he seemed inexhaustible. He fucked her until she felt his cock growing even bigger, swelling, torturing the wet inflamed walls of her cunt, and the pain increased her orgasm, sending her off in a second rocket burst of cum and she moaned and saliva caught and rattled in her throat as his prick kept swelling until she was sure it would explode inside her.
And it did, with John giving out a low bellow. It seemed to burst and shoot streams of hot thick sperm inside her, filling her up, engulfing her and seeping out of her cunt around the hotly clenched tendons of her vaginal lips.

One final wild lunge by John deep inside of her and one final spurt of hot cum and he collapsed moaning and rolled off her onto his back.

Ann, feeling her bones like warm taffy, rolled over and kissed him, then let her tongue slide down over his face, his neck, chest, and stomach. She licked his body all down to where she buried her face in his tangled pubic hair. She was on her knees now, her hand holding his still erect penis, and she could feel his hands caressing her buttocks and she spread her knees so his finger could play with her cunt. Opening her eyes, she saw his cock in front of her, licked the cum, his and hers, off the tip, and then put it in her mouth and sucked, her tongue twirling wildly around.

She wanted more. Despite her totally fulfilled feeling, lewdness and the thrill of having, his cock in her again came surging up. She wanted him to fuck her again and she sucked with all her might and guile, using every trick she could think of to make his cock grow hard and erect again.

She manipulated his foreskin with her tongue and lips, making it slide back and forth on the mushroom head and felt it grow as his hands grew more excited and his fingers began sawing in and out of her cunt, making a-soft wet exciting sound. She wiggled her buttocks and sucked as she felt the cock growing, swelling in her mouth and felt his hips beginning to pump.

The tempo increased and, as her head bobbed up and down, she took as much of his thick shaft as she could in her mouth, fighting the impulse to gag. She sucked harder and faster as his hips pumped and soon it was hard for her to tell if she were sucking him or he was fucking her in the mouth.

She sucked, feeling the head and shaft growing rock-hard again, feeling his massive hardness swell, and she knew he was going to cum in her mouth. She heard him moan with delight and thrilled at the way his strong loins pumped up and down, in and out of her mouth. She felt his hands circling her hip, pulling her over to him. She lifted one leg and lay flat on top of him, her shapely thighs split wide and her cunt right in front of his face. His hands cupped the buttocks and pulled her loins down and she felt his tongue licking maddeningly at her cunt, burying itself deep inside of her and then darting out to ,lick at her tiny rigid clitoris.

The two of them lay. with their hips pumping wildly and they sucked and licked as they clung together, undulating and writhing in sensuous abandon. And she felt John's body tensing, his cock swelling bigger, forcing her mouth open wide as he came, pumping more hot vicious sperm into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged and the cords of her neck stood out as she swallowed the hot, pungent liquid, her body twisting with delight as John darted his tongue in and out of her cunt and she came for what seemed like an hour.

Then, the two of them spent, she rolled off him and cuddled beside him, falling o$ into a deep, relaxed, dreamless sleep.



Chapter 3

A gentle mid-morning breeze blew in the half-open window of the bedroom. The brilliant mountain sunshine streamed through the antique lace curtains, casting a wide shaft of light on the brass bed-where the couple still lay deep in peaceful sleep.

Slowly, Ann awoke. She squinted her dark eyes and raised her arm over her delicate forehead as a shield, then turned to her side on the bed to try to escape the brilliant reflection of the sun on the well polished brass rails. Her arm curled around her husband's naked waist, her long fingers stroking the hair on his flat stomach.

Her eyes now open, she studied the smooth tanned patch of her husband's shoulder. She rolled over on her back and glanced at his uplifted arms, leaving only a thin shock of thick black hair. His strong inner sinews strained from upraised arms through rough muscular shoulders and over his tanned hardened back barely covered by the pale flowered sheet.

She pressed her blonde head back into the pillow and her brown eyes blinked painfully through the tears welling in her eyes. She wasn't so sure now that she even wanted to wake up - ever! Not if it meant facing the sad worrisome thoughts that were already looming through her cloudy mind. She turned on her side, a sense of anger growing in her heaving chest, and once again she studied her husband's tanned back.

She sat on the edge of the bed, still groggy with sleep, and slid her slender toes into her white satin slippers and pulled her robe from off the bedpost and shrouded it over her shoulders without putting her arms through the sleeves. She hesitated a moment, wondering whether she should awaken her snoring husband. No, she thought, he looks so peaceful.

Silently, then, she slithered into the kitchen and turned on the gas burner to heat some water for her morning coffee. "Oh, God!" she muttered, reaching in the kitchen cabinet for the aspirin bottle, "I'm going to need these today." Her head turned in the direction of the kitchen door, a strange but familiar scratching telling her Dante was hungry and ready for breakfast. "How `ya,doin', pup?" She bent over to give him a scratch under his patchy brown chin. "You and me are going to be alone today," sighed Ann. "Your master has to go out and make some money to feed that growling stomach of yours." She reached for a can of meaty chunks and dished a generous spoonful into his red dog dish. Footsteps in the hallway and the abrupt sound of the raining shower -- John was up. Settling into her rocker overlooking the tranquility of the 'magic mountain', Ann sipped from her pottery mug, burning her mouth on the first bitter and scalding sip. Except for a momentary wince, she paid no heed. Her mind was elsewhere, miles away.

Suddenly she jumped up: "Oh, shit!" she -reprimanded herself. "I forgot I have two exams today." Ann groaned with dismay. No way, she thought, am I going to be able to go into those tests with a clear head. Maybe if I just call and tell some outlandish story, they'll let me take the make-up. With a trembling hand she dialed the number for University information, and after practicing her speech: "Hello? This is Ann Barot. I was wondering if I could take the make-up exam. You see, my husband has just come home from the hospital with a ,case of appendicitis and he'll need some very special care." Yeah, she thought, that'll do it.

"What a lame excuse," she muttered, as she dialed the number of Professor Bradley.

That was pretty easy, reflected Ann with a grin. I only hope that weirdo Carol Nester will be as amenable.

"Not going to school today, honey?" asked John pouring himself a cup of hot water and dipping a tea bag in.

Ann watched the rippling muscles of his naked back as he stood there, a yellow towel wrapped around his loins. "Later." She took another sip of her tasteless coffee. "John, really. Wouldn't you reconsider my friend's offer? Wouldn't it be nice," her eyes glistened in the sunlight as she set her cup of coffee on the end table, "to spend the rest of our lives together without having to fly half way around the world just to make enough money to pay for this house?"

John answered her with a grin. "Maybe someday, Baby, but right now I'm doing as well as I can for just getting assigned to these new international flights." He wrapped the soggy teabag around a teaspoon and squeezed the last bit of darkness out of its hot limp bag. "I thought you liked having time alone and being liberated and all. Besides, that sounds a bit too risky no matter who's behind it."

"He says, John," she stammered, "that it's all set up. All you have to do is contact the assigned guards and it's all clear. No worries."

"Come on, honey. It's all I can do to muster up the energy to take on this extra flight." He took a deep sip of his tea and, wincing, reached for the bear-shaped honey container. "I'll make enough money this week to more than cover our mortgage payments."

Weakly, Ann rested her foot against the window pane. She knew better than to argue with her rationally minded husband. He was one of those precious few who, when they say 'no', mean just that. Taking her cue, she changed the subject, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain he could feel it vibrating the walls. With a grateful slurp, Dante licked her hand, fast.

What am I going to do, Dante? she thought staring into her animal's dark staring eyes.

Ann sat motionless, even while her husband picked up his hat and walked out the door. She heard the engine of their MGB rev up and, with a screech of the tires, the noise disappeared into the silent distance, leaving her alone, once more with her own vexation to keep her company. She was about to muster the strength to take a morning shower to do her yoga exercises when the phone rang.

"Hello?" she answered limply.

"Hello, Ann."

"What are you doing calling me at home? Mike, you promised to give me time!"

"Just wanted to tell you there are a few points I neglected to inform you of, my dear. My black Mercedes will be over to pick you up in an hour and a half," his husky voice echoed her fears.

"But ..." she stammered, holding the receiver in her sweaty palm, "you don't even know where I live and John is still ..."

"John just left for the airport." Mike finished her sentence for her.

"An hour and a half," and then he hung up.

Ann sat there like a statue, blindly staring into space, a space filled with nightmares, fear and loneliness. The most devastating loneliness she had ever experienced in her life-far worse than the affliction that had broken her heart and left her lifeless at Paul's death. No, she couldn't let this happen to John! She'd lick Mike's cock, she'd crawl on her knees, she'd subject herself to anything to keep the sanctity of her marriage.

She showered, exercised and went about her morning routine, all strange to her now. Ann studied her figure in the full length mirror. For the first time in her life, she wished she weren't so attractive. The image that stared back at her was that of a tall graceful well postured woman with large voluptuous breasts and a deep tan off-setting dark brown eyes and silken blonde hair. She stood, sleek and slim, with a waist like a wasp.

Her attire was carefully selected: a calf-length flowered skirt gathered at the waist, showing off her tiny waist with a cumberbund belt of deep rose to match the similar color in her long-sleeved jersey blouse, a silver and turquoise necklace adorning her slim, sensuous neck. The shoes were perfect too. White canvas platforms with jute heels and colorful ribbons that criss-crossed, winding their way up her slimly tapered ankles. She thrust her hands in her pockets and turned half-way round, examining her graceful image. just right! she thought. This will definitely please him.

Her heart sank to her knees with bewilderment. What twisted excuse did he have for wanting to talk to her? He was insane, and she feared him more than any thunderstorm or bolt of lightning that had several times threatened her on those numerous flights cross country. Her thoughts were cut short by a heavy thud of the door knocker and a fierce growl from Dante.

"That's him," she said aloud, breaking the silence of her torment.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

"Hello, Mr. Boston is waiting for you in the car." Dante growled hatefully at the small Chinese man who stood before her, like the face of doom. For a brief second she considered turning her dog loose on these depraved people who were sucking her energy and life out of her with every threatening glance. She picked up her bag and shawl and followed him out the door.

The door to the black Mercedes was politely opened for her, and she gracefully slid in, surprised that Mike was not in the car.

"Boss says to take you to his place," growled a huge black man eyeing her melon-like breasts with ravishing stares. His long sinewy arm secured the lock on the door.

It was a deathlike ride into San Francisco and even driving over the Golden Gate Bridge held no inspiration for her as it normally did with its magic sensuous fog drifting like a shapeless spirit; now it only laughed at her.

Ann's heart beat like an African drum as they ascended the tall Broadway hilt of Pacific Heights. Her stomach turned cold and she felt icewater in her veins as the Mercedes neared the wrought iron gated mansion of the infamous Mike Boston. A white smocked valet appeared from nowhere to open the locked gates; in her pulsations of fear he became a morgue attendant, the grave digger from Hamlet, the spectre. of Poe. He was everything evil and wickedly ominous as he reached for her hand to help her out of the car. Weakly, she stood up, fearful that her legs would give way under the extreme incline of her platform shoes and .she would fall on her face, groveling on the ground as she knew Mike would have her doing as soon as she walked through that fateful door.

An elevator decorated in black and white zebra wallpaper took her from the foyer to the bedroom where those familiar mammoth doors opened up magically to the living room, still decorated with plants. She stepped down into the sunken room to come face to face with her extortionist.

"You're looking mighty fine, Ann." Mike Boston, dressed in evening clothes, his hair clipped and his manner suave, waved her in. She sat on the red lipped sofa, its recollections making her skin crawl with a strange passion of hatred and desire, a wicked sensation, destructive to her soul. She looked up at his face smiling and relaxed, like a cobra ready to strike the mongoose.

"Okay, Mike. What do you want?" she stammered, nervously pulling at a loose thread on her skirt.

"How about a drink before we discuss business," he said offering her a glass of wine. Ann's floundering hand reached anxiously for the crystal goblet, and tilting her head she took a long swallow.

"May I repeat, you look dashing." His sweet words cramped her stomach.

"Okay, Mike," she insisted. "Let's get on with this. I've already had to postpone my exams for this bullshit you're putting me through!" Her anger was growing, seething within her blood.

A frown gave way to a crooked smile. "Let's remember our etiquette, Mrs. Bailey ... or is it Barot now?" Ann had forgotten how cruel Mike could be, how diabolical and cutting, slicing through, mercilessly through her heart like a dissected frog. Ann shuddered.

"Get on with it!"

"I see you've forgotten who you're dealing with," he said taking a long sip of his whiskey, staring at her dark eyes now welling with tears.

"You're insane!" she blurted out hatefully between her tightly clenched teeth. "You're a madman!"

Mike cocked an eyebrow and laughed a dry humorless laugh.

"Why?" he snarled. "Because I have money and I buy whatever I want at any cost? Look at yourself," he sneered pointing a crooked finer at her. "You don't even have the guts to admit to your own lewd nature. You love the way I treated you -- parties, yachts, fur coats."

It sounded like a stuck phonograph record; every syllable carefully enunciated with cold calculation.

Mike swallowed the remainder of his drink.

"Have you met my friends?" He motioned for, Ross, the six foot black man who'd sat beside her on the way to the city, his cheap cologne gagging her.

"Mighty nice, boss." Ross stepped forward, his arms hanging laxly at his sides while his clenched fists slapped into each other with anxious frustration.

"And Fred," he said motioning for the Chinese, who had called for her, to step forward, which he did with a deep bow.

"Fred is my new secretary. He keeps files on every one who crosses my path." His cold eyes made Ann's flesh crawl as he set down his empty glass and reached for a ledger on the table decorated with numerous Boston ferns. "A complete list, my dear." Mike thumbed through the alphabetized pages. "Ah ha! Here we have Ann Barot. We'll have to make more room for you under the B's now, my dear."

Ann wailed out loud. There it was: complete evidence, undisputable facts on every party she had attended, who she'd spent the night with, even a section for remarks which enumerated prices. On top of it all, Mike Boston was a pimp, a madman who kept all the money to himself. Ann had never seen a dime of the thousands upon thousands of dollars she'd made for Mike! He's paid her rent in a nearby Pacific Heights apartment, but his generosity ended there.

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed in a high wail, picking up her wine goblet and hurling it at Mike who stood there laughing at her misguided throw. Her eyes blinded with tears, she darted for the door, but Ross and Fred dragged her away and held her in iron grips and guided her toward the couch.

They threw her down on the sofa where she sat panting and hugging a throw pillow while the three men stood looking at her and grinning. "You evil bastard! Go ahead and kill me! I've had enough of your fucking games."

The three men looked at one another and Mike's bushy eyebrows raised a full inch as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You've become awfully high and mighty, Ann. Have you forgotten your true nature? Do you remember how you loved to suck those cocks, those pricks, those balls and testicles, slithering your slender little finger up those assholes?"

Twinkling stars against a dark background were all Ann could see now, as her body gave way to blackness and fainted dead away from the shock of his words. Mike shook her lifeless body with a quick jerk. "Get her a drink!" Obediently, Fred went to the concealed bar and poured a glass of whiskey which he tilted to Ann's slightly parted lips, bringing her back to life with a choking gag.

"I'm sure you'll feel better now, Ann." Fred and Mike grinned at one another. "Remember how you used to love to drink and suck cock afterwards?" Mike nodded and Fred poured another which he offered to Ann who sat wiping her clammy forehead with the sleeve of her jersey top.

"No, no, I don't want anymore, please." Her pleas went unheeded as Fred shoved it in her hand.

"I said drink, Ann!" snarled Mike. "Or would you like your husband and the board of directors to see this ledger? I can think of at least ten of your old buddies who will be ..." He stopped and smiled as Ann raised the glass to her lips -- followed by another and another til she could stand no more. She sat slumped over, knowing what the drink would do. It would make her want to fuck and suck like she used to do all the time before she was flying. Oh God, why couldn't she help herself!

Ross, grinning, advanced and sat next to Ann on the red sofa. "My, but you're a pretty one!" He seized her by the shoulders and pinned her in place with his strong black body.

He put his arm around her neck and with his massive thumb, parted her tear-wetted lips. She could feel the beginnings of his erection on his pelvis pressed up against her buttocks. Slowly, using his arm, he eased her head back and poured the remainder of her half-empty glass down her choking throat.

Ann struggled a bit, -but the massive man overcame her easily despite her flailing head that rolled from right to left in drunken abandon. Finally she gave up and accepted the refilled glass in one swallow, knowing she was going to do it sooner or later anyway. Once she got started with these men, she knew she couldn't make herself stop. She would act like always before, fuck herself crazy.

Half an hour later, Ann was slumped on the couch -- the same couch where it had all begun a few years back. Mike laughed at her limp body, rubbery with drunkenness. He liked to see Ann slobbering drunk and helpless to fight that hot little devil that lived in her throat and cunt. It gave him a sense of omnipotence. Fred and Ross were seated on chairs now, Ross smoking a marijuana cigarette with hashish oil smeared over the brown rolling paper. He was stripped to his underwear now; Mike had promised him a piece of the action and he was ready. Boy, was he ready!

He passed it to Fred, the oriental, who in turn offered it to Ann whose limp hand wavered out to accept it. She took a long deep drag and closed her eyes, leaning back on the couch: Her jersey was unbuttoned to the waist and her breasts were exposed almost to the nipples. They looked like rich tender melons waiting for someone to suck their sweet juices. Ross reached one hand under the blouse and caressed the nipple of one of them, springing it into erect life.

"She sure does have lovely breasts, boss."

"Hey," snapped the short oriental, untying his bowtie. "Don't forget I get a piece of the action."

"Come on, you two. Let's get on with it! We're going to help little Miss Ann here to remember her past."

As Ann sat dragging on the joint, Fred and Ross took off their clothes. "She's a hot one!" muttered Fred.

"Think she can handle both of us?" quipped Ross, stepping out of his pants.

The laughter made Ann look up, her eyes fogged and out of focus from the alcohol and grass. She looked up to see two naked men standing in front of her, one large and muscular and black, the other short and slender of frame and yellow-skinned. Her eyes traveled slackly down over their bodies to where their penises were standing up thick and menacingly, one black and the other olive colored. Her breath caught in her throat.

Before she could say a word, they were pulling her to her feet, taking the joint from her limp fingers. She squinted her eyes and tried to follow what they were doing. They were taking her skirt off and she was standing in her brassiere, panties, and platform shoes. Ross pulled off her brassiere and her lush full breasts leaped quiveringly free seeming to become bigger and more uplifted in the open air. Fred, kneeling by her, pulled her panties free with a jerk and left her standing naked in her shoes. "Let me see her!" Mike cried from his chair, his voice high again.

Fred and Ross each held an arm as they stepped back from her and Ann stood in the middle of the room with all her feminine loveliness exposed. They turned slowly so that Mike had a good look at her breasts which quivered and jumped as she put up a token struggle. Beneath her bare breasts with their swollen nipples, her rib cage curved down into a tiny molded waist. Her hips fanned out just far enough to support two smoothly rounded thighs. Her legs were long and tapered and, as the men slowly turned her around, Mike took in her long tanned back that curved delicately down to meet two firm full ass cheeks that undulated for his pleasure as they turned her around.

At a nod from Mike, the two men stood close to her and slowly, they guided her unresisting body down to her knees between them. She could feel her mouth growing moist inside from the rising saliva. She tried to bow her head for a moment to dampen her desire but the negro grabbed her by her long blonde hair and pulled her head up and back. jutting his naked pelvis forward he shoved his cock in her face. "Suck!" cried Mike from across the room, now sitting with another glass of wine, reveling in his position of power.

Ann struggled and tried to talk but it was no use. The alcohol and the joint had put her in a state where all she could think was: a cock is in my mouth.

Ross whipped her head around toward him and shoved his huge black penis at her face. "Suck," he repeated Mike's demand.

There seemed to be cocks all around her and people demanding that she suck them. Her hands groped and she felt something hard and hot and throbbing in her fist. It was big and it was exciting! Closing her eyes, she opened her mouth and her red wet tongue licked out and she tasted the huge black cock in her mouth.

Mike sat on the edge of his velvet antique chair, watching the lewd show in front of him with growing excitement. He saw Ann take the body-guard's massive black cock in her mouth. They didn't have to hold her by the hair any longer. He watched as Fred found her free hand and guided it onto his own huge Chinese rod of flesh, making her squeeze it and stroke it and play the skin back so that the thick bulbous head was exposed.

Still on her knees, Ann pulled her lips from the negro's cock and, opening her mouth wide, wiggled her tongue over the oriental's waiting hardness. Then, with a sigh, she let it slide into her mouth, filling it up as she sucked away.

The two men laughed and Fred began pumping his hips, sliding his cock in and out of her mouth while Ann hung on and sucked with all her might.

She didn't know where she was or who she was with. She didn't care. It had been a long time since she had acted this way. Mike was somewhere, controlling everything, controlling her, and she remembered the sexual heat and the thrill of doing what he wanted. There was something so frightening and, at the same time, alluring about going sexually wild. She would do anything they wanted. Nothing mattered to her now, school, John, nothing. The thought of wild abandon, of acting once again like a wild stewardess, sent wild convulsing impulses through her and she could feel her viginal lips swelling hard with desire and the walls of her cunt hot and itching and wet. '

There seemed to be cocks everywhere. How many? It didn't matter; there were more than enough. Now she felt herself clutching strong hairy thighs as her head was forced back, and Ross and Fred, black man and Chinese were standing side by side, bending over her .as they held their lust-engorged penises in their hands. They were forcing both their cocks into her mouth at once! Ann choked momentarily but sucked with all her might as she felt the two hot ramrods spreading her lips and sliding back into her throat.

Mike watched as she submitted eagerly, all of her conscious brain at rest. Now, she was just another animal, a beautiful lewd animal. He watched as he saw her buttocks quivering, her head held back as she sucked on the two cocks at once and felt his excitement growing as he saw her hands slip behind the two standing men and caress their buttocks.

Then they dragged her to her feet and the negro put his hand on her cunt and massaged it while the oriental fondled her hard-tipped breasts. An absent smile came across the betrayed face as she closed her eyes and let her hips move easily and lewdly, thrusting them forward so that the Chinaman could stick his finger up into her cunt and finger her. "Man is she ready!" he said in a cracked voice.

"Fuck her!" Mike said, his voice climbing still higher.

They let her fall back on the couch where she crawled on her back, all modesty gone, with her arms above her head, her eyes closed and her mouth open. As her breasts heaved up and down, her hips undulated obscenely and her thighs spread, one leg falling off the red couch. Two men stood and looked while the other sat on the edge of his chair and they all gazed at her wide-splayed cunt. Framed by her blonde curling pubic hair; it lay open to their hungry eyes, undulating as her hips gyrated and rolled.

With a low animal growl, the negro lunged toward Ann.

"Wait!" Mike's tenor voice, ready with excitement, cut through the air. "She's got to ask for it." He half rose out of his chair. "Do you want to be fucked Ann by a big black and a yellow cock?"

Ann, feeling her body immersed in a hot sticky sexuality, longing for a thick cock that would sink into her cant and send her spiraling toward bliss, thrashed her head back and forth and bent her knees, thrusting her yearning vagina upward. "Yessss!" she breathed.

"Say it!" Mike screeched, now sitting on the edge of his antique chair.

"Fuck me, fuck me with your big black cock; all of you, fuck me!" The lewd thrill, the orgasmic debasement of hearing her voice call out such words only made her more lewd.

Ross's big black frame was immediately on top of her and Mike felt his breath coming fast as he saw them, black and yellow, together. The hulking body-guard took her lovely form in his thick arms and put the head of his bloated black cock right on the slit of her wet cant and ran it up and down the full, wetly glistening length. Ann, underneath him, moaned with delight and squirmed around on the couch, eager for more. "Fuck me!" she murmured in Ross's ear.

Ross went mad, ramming his cock home in her white cant, filling it and splitting her legs wide as she cried out against the sudden shock and pain but kept pumping her hips, knowing she would soon crawl past the pain. Ross, his eyes bugging, fucked her with all his might, his semen-filled balls slapping against her wide-split buttocks as he lifted her up off the couch with each withdrawal then slammed down with all his weight on her again, his cock sinking deep into her boiling hot cunt.

"Hey Ross, save some for me!" the oriental called out as he knelt beside the couch and kissed Ann on the mouth, running his tongue lizard-like in and out between her lips.

"Just going to make her cum is all I'm doing," Ross grunted in his deep voice.

Fred was shifting position now, moving the drunken girl's head so that she could suck his cock as the black man fucked in and out fast and deep. Ann closed her lips over Fred's cock and felt the negro's huge black cock in her cunt and felt herself going on a long liquid ride -- a kind of obscene slide -- as her body undulated and met each hard lewd thrust and she sucked on the Chinaman's cock as hard as she could.

Then, her eyes wide, rolling back, she opened her mouth and her body arched upward, actually lifting the negro off the couch with a superhuman effort. The cords in her neck stood out as she let Fred's cock slip from her mouth and screamed, "Agggghhhhh!" And then she collapsed, quivering as she felt her nerves dancing to the wild maniacal fury of her orgasm.

She lay spent and quivering, moaning as Ross slowly withdrew his huge black cock and rolled off her and slumped to the floor.
Instantly, Fred, with his yellow skin and black hair, was on top of her. "Damn, I want to fuck her!"

Mike was wild with excitement. His own erection was hard and demanding, but he would bide his time. There was more to come. And when the time was right, he would join them.

Fred was grabbing Ann by her lithesome hips and turning her over onto her stomach. Ann responded with a lewd smile and lay flat on her belly, crushing her breasts against the red sponginess of the couch as Fred ran his hands over her smooth firm buttocks. Cupping his hands on the cheeks of her ass, he slowly spread them apart to reveal her tiny tight anus and Ann, her eyes closed, twitched as the tip of his finger flicked over the puckered little hole, and felt a lazy lewdness coming over her body. The alcohol and the grass bore down heavily on her conscious and, with a little laugh, she admitted to herself that she didn't want to think, only feel. She wanted to feel hands caressing her body all over. She wanted to feel cocks on her fingers and taste them in her mouth and feel them bulging and ramming in her cunt. There was no sense; thinking about it, she knew she was debauched: that she was, deep down, lewd and obscene and that being an exhibitionist delighted and thrilled her far beyond any other emotion.

She lay murmuring nonsense words, relaxing her body, spreading her legs slightly, allowing Fred freer play with her anus. His rhythmically flicking finger lulled her into a lewd daydream. She was on stage, in a theatre. She was a dancer on the stage and stood in the brilliancy of the spotlight aimed directly on her slim body as she stood proudly, one hand on her hip. People in the audience called out to her to take off particular articles of clothing and she did it until she stood naked in front of them. She turned around for them, exhibited her body, throwing articles of her clothing to particularly excited members of the crowd. She danced for them as obscenely as possible. Men came up out of the audience -- and women too -- to fondle her body and speak in crude terms. More men crowded around her and soon hands were all over her body, caressing, massaging, fondling her everywhere.

"Awww!" she cried, her face wincing in pain as Fred brought her back to lewd reality. His finger was suddenly bearing down on her anus, pushing hard and brutally.

"Aggggghhhhhh!" she suddenly screamed as the tiny rubber ring guarding her rectum suddenly expanded and his middle finger plunged in to the first knuckle. Immediately her anus tightened defensively around his finger as he began wiggling and turning it, feeling out the soft sensitive nether ring.

Ann lay tense and afraid as she felt the painful probing of the finger; then opened her eyes to see Ross, huge and muscled, lying on the floor watching, his prick big, full, and black. Across the room was Mike, half out of his seat, watching with his mouth open and a glazed look in his eyes. They were watching Fred with his finger in her anus. The thought was so lewd, so excitingly obscene that Ann began to enjoy the pain and the probing. Through the momentary pain, there came a lascivious delight at being fucked in the ass while someone else watched.

Her hips began rolling again. "Look at that!" Ross whispered. "Would you look at that, she likes it!"

Ann closed her eyes and spread her legs wider apart, enjoying the feel of the soft sensuous cushion against her cunt and clitoris as Fred bore down again, sinking his middle finger deeper into her anus and wiggling it again.

It hurt, but it felt good too. And lewd Using all her remaining strength, she lifted her wide-split buttocks off the couch and got to her knees, spreading her legs as much as possible, her head still down on the couch, her breasts spilling voluptuously downward, her hardened nipples just grazing across the soft red couch as she wiggled her buttocks and thrust upward and Fred began a slow fucking of his finger in and out.

Mike was beside himself and unzipped his fly and held his throbbing cock in his hand inside his pants as he watched his Chinese secretary, with his whole middle finger now buried in the beautiful young stewardess's asshole, get to his knees and waddle up close to her hotly gyrating buttocks to watch, his cock held in his free hand.

Ann felt the hard rubbery head of the oriental's cock being rubbed back and forth over her passion-drenched slit of her cunt and she moaned, her lust mounting as his finger probed obscenely deep in her anus. She felt her vagina moist again and shuddered with delight as she felt the head of his cock slipping with lubricated ease from the negro's cum up and down against her pussy. Slowly, she felt her vaginal lips being spread wide; wider, as she gave a low animal grunt of satisfaction. She felt his hot hard cock slip home and hold there while his finger continued to wiggle in her anus. Slowly, her eyes half shut, she began pumping her hips back and forth in time to Fred's grinding thrusts.

Murmuring with delight, the skewered blonde looked down to see the huge black cock swelling viciously with excitement as Ross watched the two of them locked cunt and cock together on the couch. Her arm fell off the sofa and her fingers trailed up along his powerful thigh to his massive black penis which she took in her hand and began stroking. Ross, wild with lust, got to his knees and crouched over next to her head.

Pulling his massive pulsating hardness toward her face, Ann let her tongue lick out and over his thick mushroomed cock-head and felt the hot heavy cock slide in.

Now, all three bodies -- Fred's yellow body offset by black straight chocks of hair, Ross's big black muscular body -- began to undulate and flow and pump in an obscene rhythm whose ultimate end was exquisitive pleasure for all three.

Ann felt her body caught up in the ecstasy of the moment. A sense of abandonment swept over them: it didn't matter what they did or who was watching. All that mattered was one thing: lewd pleasure that seemed to engulf them as Fred fucked her cunt and probed her hotly devouring rectum with his finger and Ross, on his knees, fucked his blackly bulging cock in and out of her tightly ovalled mouth while Ann sucked and screwed her buttocks back and forth and still felt another orgasm mounting deep in her loins. She would cum like crazy, she knew, and then collapse in an ecstatic state while the two men finished fucking her body as they liked.

"Now! Now, both of you at the same time!" Mike said, his voice shrill and penetrating as he slumped back in his chair, his hand still holding his cock inside his pants.

Instantly, greedily, the two men reacted, pulling out their cocks and tumbling Ann around. There was no resistance; all of them were eager for anything. There was just a momentary confusion born of lust.

Ross was lying on his back on the couch, his great chest heaving. Ann, her huge breasts quivering, her nipples distended, was over him, straddling his waist on her knees, her hips pumping obscenely, as she reached down between her widespread thighs and seized his cock and held it erect. Slowly, she lowered her hotly throbbing cunt downward, her hips twitching and rolling.

Ross's black hands reached up and gripped her slim waist and pulled her down so that his thick black shaft sank slowly up into her hungrily undulating cunt. Ann took it all, squirming for more, riding him slowly up and down so that Mike could see the glistening black shaft of Ross's cock fucking wetly into her blonde cunt while Ann, her blonde head flung back, slowly slid her hands up over her curved rib cage to cup her lewdly dancing breasts while her fingers squeezed at her nipples.

Behind her, she felt the small oriental's hands on her shoulders, pushing her forward until she was crouching over the negro, her soft, white breasts crushed tight against his chest and her buttocks spread wide and tight and obscenely exposed.

Fred looked down to see Ross's wiry pubic hair. Ann began a lewd animal pumping as she felt Fred's cock pressing harder against her anus. Harder. And still harder. The pressure mounted as he leaned his full weight down on her and she felt her tight little rectal mouth spreading wider and wider until she was sure he would split her like a ripe, juicy watermelon. The pressure still mounted far beyond anything she'd endured, and with a wild lunge, she felt the thick cock-head plunge suddenly inward and the hot rubbery walls of her rectum close tight around the deeply burrowing shaft,

"Aw, no! No, I can't do it so fast! Fuck it in slower ... fuck it in slower!" she pleaded with the toothily grinning oriental.

"Fuck her fast!" Mike demanded, on his feet now.

"Please, fuck it in slow!"

"Fuck her fast!"

"Oh God, you'll kill me if you do!"

"Fuck her, fuck her with all you have!" Mike said, his, voice high and unreal.

The oriental heeded his instructions and began fucking in and out, feeling the huge black cock in her cunt separated from his own by a thin wall of soft, resilient flesh. Each time he withdrew, Ann's anus would react, the warm rubbery flesh clinging hungrily to the shaft of the cock like it didn't want to relinquish its hold.

The negro, below her, put his hands on her breasts, forcing her torso up with great strength as he savagely massaged her breasts and nipples.

As Ann groaned and tensed, pinned in place by brute power, Mike came toward the couch, his mouth open. The oriental was fucking in and out of her anus in long smooth strokes and the negro was pumping his great hips up and down as Ann was battered and jerked and pummeled and twitched about, her head flying back and forth until her grunts turned to moans and her moans to groans and, finally, to wild animal sounds of sheer delight as her body found the rhythm and she began fucking back in unison with the two men, building, building, building ... her lust and desire.

"That's it, that's it!" Mike screamed with a queer falsetto as he ran to the couch and pulled out his rock-hard cock. He guided Ann's willing lips open with his trembling fingers and then slowly wormed his lust-hardened cock intro her mouth for her to suck on.

This was the final lewd thrill, the ultimate humiliation and debasement; sucking the obscenely aroused penis of Mike Boston while being sandwich-fucked so wildly by his two thug employees.

Mike began jerking his hips back and forth as the two men fucked, and Ann let her body ripple and undulate while she sucked as hard as she could and felt them all building to an insane crescendo. Mike was the first to cum, his body stiffening while he yelled and shot his white hot sperm far up into her feverishly sucking mouth, and her cheeks bulged and hollowed lewdly as she swallowed and sucked for more, her tongue twirling wildly.

The negro was the next to cum, exploding his thick white cum deep up into her hotly milking cunt with a roar. Ann felt the tempo, increase as she was driven inexorably on to a soaring wet orgasm that blinded her for a moment, and as Mike's cock trailed away from her cum-glistening lips, she let out a wail as the oriental fucked her with all his might.

White-hot momentary pain coursed through her rectum and mingled with her orgasm and only made it wilder, sweeter, more intense and prolonged. It seemed as if she were falling through space, through an endless void of pleasure and pain as she heard Fred give out with a guttural animal sound that sounded as if he were saying something lewd in Chinese and felt his cock swell painfully against the walls of her rectum and then begin to pump hot, slippery cum deep up into her, filling her asshole and belly to the brim.

With a deep sigh, Ann closed her eyes and collapsed, losing consciousness.

"What do we do with her now, boss?" Fred was zipping up his pants.

"Take her home. Get her out of here!" And looking at the disappointed faces of his employees, added, "Don't worry, boys. There'll be more. This was just a little welcome home party." Mike Boston wiped off his penis with a damp wash cloth brought him by Ross. "Wait till the party and she meets our friend from down South of the border, and that Turkish dude too. We'll see what Ann Bailey, I mean Barot, is made of. And I can assure you she ain't sugar and spice and everything nice."

They all three laughed boisterously as they dressed the limply unconscious body of the voluptuous blonde who minutes before had sucked and fucked them all into blind ecstasy.



Chapter 4

Ann Barot sat with her dimpled chin resting in the palm of her upturned hand, leaning over her graffiti carved desk, her large rimmed tortoise shell glasses slipping gradually off her straight nose. With visible anxiety, she nibbled on the hard black plastic of her pen that had traced the outline of her lips unconsciously as she pondered over her English makeup exam. Professor Bradley paced nervously back and forth before the handful of students as he checked his watch in three minute intervals. Wish these dipshit students would hurry up and get done. As if all I have to do is baby sit for these flunkies!

Ann had similar thoughts as she scratched notes on the margin of her blue book. Trace the development of Southern literature ... and draw conclusions about the culture from its major literary influences ... what the hell does that mean? With scratchy movements she noted Tennessee Williams, William Faulkner, let's see ... Robert Penn Warren, yeah, that's a good one. Robert Anderson ... no, she wasn't certain about that one.

Half an hour later she turned in her makeup exam, a smile of relief on her lips as she thanked the professor for his kind understanding in allowing her the liberty of blah, blah, blah. What a bore, she thought silently. And a pity too; she had found college tremendously stimulating just three days before Mike Boston' entered her life for a re-run of past attractions.

She stuffed her notebook and pen back into her straw bag and headed for the student union for a greatly needed cup of black coffee which, hopefully, would pump her full of courage to confront that kinky gym teacher of hers and explain why she hadn't made it to the field exam yesterday. Maybe I'd better think of some other excuse, she thought amusedly. Doubt that woman has ever felt any sympathy for a man.

Now she nestled into a concave green, chair and rested her weary, aching legs on the one directly across from her solitary table overlooking the library mall. Her slender fingers slithered toward the sugar dispenser and she measured two heaping teaspoons into the steaming blackness. Ah! she took a deep, satisfying sip. Already she could feel the caffeine coursing pleasantly through her tortured, dolorous, pain-wracked body with a mind to match.

Thoughts flooded her mind and she put her hand over her eyes and fought back the tears. What an idiot she had been! Had she actually believed she could please Mike Boston in any way? She had found out nothing yesterday. In fact she had only added to her own incrimination. She was digging her own gravel She had been fucked half crazy and turned on by people she would not even give the time of day to if she had met them on the street.

But, hadn't she liked it? She sat up straight, pulling her pant-clad leg off the chair. She had reverted to the wanton Mike had molded her into; she'd gone back to her evil ways. The pit of her stomach churned with fear that it might happen again and. she would not be able to hold back then either.

Suddenly, Ann felt intolerably lonely. Who did she have to talk to? Certainly not John! Anyway, he was always away from home these days. Is that house that damned important, she thought angrily. For an unbelievable second she considered the infirmary -- talking to one of the counselors there. God no! She reconsidered. I've heard about how they lock you up, slap a hospital name tag on your wrist and have the campus police on your trail if you don't get back by seven o'clock at night. She shuddered at the remembrance of one girl who'd been given electric shock treatments and "put in sheets" just because she'd been discovered making out with her boy friend. No, none of that, thank you!

She dimly remembered them reviving her yesterday with a glass of cold water poured over her naked body. Mike had retired to his bedroom to prepare himself for another evening of wild partying, and the negro and the Chinaman were left with her to dress and take her home. They had played more with her, worming their fingers up her vagina and rectum, pulling her off the couch and onto her knees again while they held her by her long blonde hair and teased her into sucking their cocks again.

She did what she was told passionately, barely conscious, and both men were staggering from fatigue. All three were seated and exhausted. They tired of trying to get aroused again, and so drove her home to Mill Valley where her dog greeted her with sad dark eyes. He knew; dogs always did.

What would Mike do next? Ann knew all too well this was not the end. There would be more days like yesterday, she thought, as she examined her bare arms for bruises. Somehow, someway, she had to convince John to take that one flight. And if he didn't, she would have to do something, anything to appease Mike! No, she refused to lose another husband, anything but that.

The hateful sensation of numbness, of apathy to herself and others returned now, like a nightmare from the past. Everything looked bleak. Everything including the marriage she was trying to save. John was probably rubbing his hand up some stewardess's thigh right now. And Paul, Paul was dead. What did she have that was real, except for a headful of dead memories?

She checked the time and gulped down the sugary, sweet coffee. She drew her sunglasses out of her fashionable straw bag arid headed for the ladies' restroom before confronting Carol Nester, who did not expect a visit from her pupil.

Ann examined her image in the mirror and was surprised to see that she looked presentable. Looking at herself, she had to admit that no one would ever suspect her of having spent eight hours sucking on thugs and fucking herself into unconsciousness. She removed her sunglasses to check her mascara. Except for the eyes! Anyone who studied her dark sloe-eyes would see that they betrayed the lust and the agony her soul felt. Immediately, she put her sunglasses back on.

"Now for Carol Nester," murmured Ann to herself as she climbed the cracked -cement stairs of the Physical Education Building and, checking the office directory for her office hours and location, jotted the information down on a scrap of paper.

Room 302, she saw the letters in bold black type on her slightly ajar office door. She halted now as she heard, low-toned voices inside. Stealthily so as not to arouse a stir. Ann took a quick peek. Yes, there was Carol Nester, dressed in her typical tee-shirt and gym shorts, her heavy brown legs tinned with white sweat socks and tennis shoes. But there was someone else in the room too: a young girl, who from the bits and pieces of the overheard conversation, was applying for the practice teaching position offered as part of the graduate program. The young girl was directed to another room and Carol Nester's muscular arm waved the secretary in, who, from the side profiled, looked like Carol's twin sister.

Then Ann overheard Carol's secretary: "She's twenty-three. just transferred from another state school. Seems she got into some trouble there," she rifled through papers in a manila file. "She came here when the scandal started."

"Scandal?" Carol Nester had arched her eyebrows hopefully.

Her secretary pushed her lips in a thin line and grinned. "Twelve girls. A daisy chain."

"And she was one of them?" Carol Nester's eyes were glowing in their tiny almond orbs.

There was a hesitation and the sound of more papers passing from hand to hand. "She was the leader!" blurted the gym teacher. "Where is she? Bring her back in, immediately." Ann watched the gym teacher trembling as though suddenly afflicted with Parkinson's disease.

The secretary opened the door of the adjoining office and called for the girl to come in before she left through the same entrance. The hopeful young girl looked obviously terrified like some poor little trapped animal suddenly thrust into a cage with a mad polar bear. She stood silently trembling in fear as the older woman made outrageous advances toward her. Ann covered her red ovalled mouth to muffle the gasp that escaped in shock. It was not until Carol Nester attempted to zip down the girl's dress that the young student tried to escape.

"You little fool!" growled the gym teacher. "Do you want me to tell the Dean of Women about your social activities at your last school?" Carol Nester's face was livid with anger now as Ann jerked her head back out of sight just in time to escape the glaring eyes of her teacher whose eyes scanned the walls and door for unwanted witnesses.

The girl wilted right on the spot. "Oh, Professor Nester! How could you know about that?"

"I know everything. Well, don't stall. Answer met Are you to let me be nice to you and reward you with entrance into our special program -- or am I to inform on you, and have you thrown out of the whole state of California?"

The girl did not answer, but her head lowered and her shoulders slumped.

Carol Nester grinned in triumph, then slowly began to undress the girl. She exclaimed over and kissed every feature of the girl, from the freckled tight little breasts to the overly large white hips and full buttocks. She almost went wild when the girl's soft black pubic hair and pouting mound of Venus was finally uncovered. The older woman had forced the girl to undress her, then Carol shoved the student's body back until her hips were on the carpeted floor. She forced the girl's legs apart as Ann stood in shock just a few feet away.

From her vantage point, Ann heard Carol Nester's loud Groan of ecstasy as she peered between the girl's open thighs since Carol had her back to the door which, in her carelessness, she had left ajar. Then Ann saw what it was that excited Ann so much. The girl's clitoris! To Ann it looked the size and color of a Brazil nut-just as thick, and a bit longer. It was fully erect now, and Carol Nester lost no time in clamping her hungry mouth and lips over it. The girl squealed like a pig. Furthermore, she came within seconds and flooded the wildly sucking woman's mouth with a hotly flowing young cream thicker than honey.

Ann gasped as the girl continued to curb as Carol's educated tongue and fingers wreaked a divine havoc through her sensitive vaginal area. The girl lay there helpless in desire and panted as the older woman moved the girl's legs out and straddled her, then lowered her own steaming cunt lips to the girl's wide open mouth. The student ate hungrily, eagerly, as Carol continued her ministrations at the tender crotch. They both screamed out their climaxes, the sweat poured off their thrashing bodies and their eyes rolled back and forth like maddened stampeding sheep with Ann standing just inches away, her head now firmly lodged in, the tiny crack between the door and the door jamb.

Somewhere during this, it was obvious to Ann that the student was beginning to obtain control over the butch dyke. It was the girl who began directing operations, and it was she who-timidly at first, and then with increasing vigor -- wormed a finger up the sweating anal passage between Carol Nester's broad white buttocks. The older woman groaned in pain and surprise, but a moment later was mewling in ecstasy as a second and third finger joined the first in an unbridled cavalcade of anal fingering.

And so it had gone for fifteen minutes, Ann' standing there glued to the door, until Carol Nester called a halt. Panting in exhaustion, she directed the still eager girl to her desk drawer and told her to pull out a black plastic box. The box was opened and Ann pulled her head back just in time as the girl's eyes lifted to her mistress, the girl's eyes wide in surprise and admiration, reverently pulling out an eight-inch dildo from which two large inflatable balls dangled. Ann continued to watch as the girl was instructed to fill the balls with hot water from the professor's private lavoratory. When the dildo was strapped on, the girl went, to work like a maniac on the older woman.

The sight was too much for Ann; Christ! she thought. If Mike and those two other guys were here right now I'd let them fuck me blind! She gritted her teeth at the thought of her predicament: her husband, whom she loved passionately, was gone three-quarters of the time, and the man she loathed and despised was conspicuously available, but offered her nothing but torment and sleepless nights. She mused on the lewd performance she'd given them yesterday. It wasn't to be the last and, for a brief moment, she felt a quivering sensation in her thighs at the thought of Mike Boston's exciting toys -- like the one being used by the two lesbian women.

Obviously, this was no time to be knocking on her gym teacher's door, and she tip-toed down the creaking steps of the Physical Education Building, careful that her wooden platform shoes wouldn't give her presence away.

She drove home then, with no recollection of the bridge or of following any road signs. Magically, she was seated in her living room, her faithful dog at her side, resting his heavy jaw on her leg when the phone jarred her out of her trance.

"Oh, hi, honey." It was John. "Yeah. I think I did okay on it. The hardest one was on Southern writers, but I'm sure I passed. You won't be home till when?" Oh, Christ, she thought to herself, another four days of cold feet and sleeping alone. "All right, I'll see you then ... surprise?" Probably another week of work, she mused wearily. "Can't wait to see you, baby." Click. '

Wonder what that's all about? Ann sighed and picked up the latest copy of Vogue next to her arrangement of red roses and unidentified white tiny flowers, a gift from John last week. Thumbing through the pages, she came across the horoscope section and mused at the accuracy of its promise: "... your husband if married, and lover if single, will soon bring you news that will send your heart soaring with joy." Wonder what that' could be? Maybe he's got another woman stashed away in London and, he wants a divorce and I'll end up with Mike Boston's entourage until I'm eighty-three. Dante whipped his long snake-like tail across the low coffee table, sending the magazines flying across the room. Maybe that's an omen, thought Ann. Maybe it has something to do with flying.

John had promised her that when he returned, he would have something very special for her, but right now he was working on it. "Oh shit!" she said aloud, her hands on her hips in a defensive stance. John wouldn't be back for four more days, which left her exactly sixty hours for her to coerce, drug or hypnotize him into Mike's evil plan, or leave the country herself. No, I vetoed that one, she thought. She shook her blonde head, her long thick hair swayed lusciously from the weight of its waves. There was just one thing to do: bide time, play along with Mike, do whatever he wanted until John came home and then she would spill the beans: she'd tell him everything, and if necessary, she'd pack her bags and split. "Nothing gained, nothing lost," she said, looking around the room at the fashionable splendor of her surroundings.

John was crazy about handmade art and the house echoed his fine taste in decor like the antique Tiffany stain glass lamp that hung from a heavy iron chain from the rustic roof beams of the A framed ceiling that opened up into a glass wall affording a full breath-taking view of the 'magic mountain' dotted with trees. She looked through that window now and spotted a hawk circling gracefully in the strong mountain air current; its self assurance and effortless glide lent strength to her tortured heart. This was her heaven, her bungalow in the woods, and she hated to give it up, but reminding herself that a human life is far more precious than material possessions she resigned herself to her fate.

A heavy thud of the wrought iron door knocker, and she knew she had visitors.

"Hello, Miss Ann." It was the Chinaman, Fred, Mike's secretary with an envelope in his skinny hand. A chock of straight black hair hung in his black eyes, and he pulled it into place, giving Ann a knowing look through his broadly grinning mouth. "He says he trusts you will comply," continued Fred with a deep bow that nauseated Ann. For a second she considered sicking her dog, who sat growling at her feet, on him.

"Stay!" she snapped at Dante whose white incisors were wet with saliva.

With no reply, except for the quaking in her bones, she accepted the envelope and thanked him curtly, slamming the door.

Fumbling to rip off a corner of the formally addressed envelope, she pulled out the letter, her eyes darting through line after line. She wanted to get to the heart of the message; the details could wait for later, more quiet moments.

She threw it on the table beside her open magazine, still opened to the horoscope section, and fell into the nearest chair. "Just as I thought," she moaned. "That son of. a bitch wants me to come to a party tomorrow night-to meet John's contacts! Shit!"

Daringly, she picked it up again. "In Mexico? What's he trying to pull anyway?" She read oil: "a plane will be leaving for Mexicali at precisely four-thirty in the afternoon. You are expected to be there promptly. All other arrangements will be taken care of by our host, Pedro Cortes. "

I'm not going to let this ruin my life, she protested, as she pulled on her riding Levi's and, holding her breath to help flatten her stomach, zipped them up, tucking her tee-shirt in. Then, with one foot resting on the bed frame, she pulled on her Toni Lama cowgirl boots-another gift from John. Ann removed all jewelry, except for the hand-wrought wedding ring John had had made for her in Spain, and yanked her hair back straight, securing it with a long tortoise shell barrett.

She was off in her red Volkswagen convertible, Dante sitting erect in the back seat, his head thrust over the side of the car allowing his saliva to drip down the polished redness of the automobile as they headed for the ranch. Careening around the mountain road, Ann headed for the ranch where her horse, David, was waiting for his mistress to brush and stroke him into obedience.



Chapter 5

Soon, Ann would be driving to the airport -- Mike's private air strip somewhere near Calistoga where he also owned his own vineyard and health spa complete with mud baths and swimming pools filled with mineral water -- and she would be hurled away through the skies to Mexicali. Would be an exciting weekend if it weren't for the company, she thought as she hooked the gold loop of her earring in place.

A shiver of anticipation swept over her and she finished her drink and headed for the living room where she put on the latest album of her favorite musician-a jazz flutist. Its soft lulling tones and rhythms soothed her crucified soul. She had dressed and made up carefully to please Mike and, setting her glass down on the end table, examined herself in the full length mirror. Ann felt an unguarded pride in her perfectly formed body as now seen in the diffused glow of the sunlight. Sometimes she felt so old inside, yet the proof of her voluptuous youth could be seen in the fresh bloom of her firmly rounded breasts with their lush pink areolas peeking through her voile calf-length dress with a deep cleavage which accentuated her tiny hourglass waist that flowed as in an artist's careful line down to the taut girlish curve of her full swelling thighs.

Good choice, contemplated Ann as she secured her stockings a bit tighter, hooking the colorless top of her deep rose garter belt. The coo-coo clock struck three. "God! I have to be there in an hour and a half!" Whereas Dante? "Dante?" she screamed, heading for the back door of the kitchen. "Come in here and eat!"

She rattled some dry food into his red dish labeled with his name, and poured out the stale water to replace it with mineral water from the large container in the refrigerator that was refilled by a distributor every week. "What a spoiled animal," she mused as she petted her dog goodbye -- he was her most faithful and appreciative male friend. "Too bad you're not human," she said, kissing him on his black and carmel spotted head. "At least you're always around, not like your master, John."

Grabbing her shawl and bag, Ann was out the door and well on her way to what she hoped to be freedom.

Winding her way through the country roads of Sonoma County, she found it unnecessary to consult the map Mike had so humorously included in the letter. Ann remembered every twist and turn in the mountain road that swirled and curled its way up to the summit where Mike's country estate, complete with Ionic columns and marble stairways, waited to, capture her in its cobweb of lewd memories.

An hour later, a Lear jet flew her, alone, to Mexicali. Ann remembered little of the flight except for pangs of fear bubbling in her empty stomach still churning from the glass of wine she'd poured into her growling belly before time prevented her from eating.

Her destination proved to be the country estate of Pedro Cortes, a rich nobleman who lived in Bogota, Columbia, but also owned this property high in the Mexican hills, surrounded by acres and acres of fertile green territory. Mike's pilot escorted her to the door of the mansion where one of their host's servants came out to meet them personally and he and Mike's pilot, Ed, greeted each other like longl ost brothers. Pedro's servant, Ceasar, was a slender well-dressed man in his thirties, with a finely chiseled aristocratic face. His large sensual eyes narrowed visibly as Ed introduced him to Ann and the girl felt a chill of interest pass through her lush young body and breasts. Ann wondered what wild, erotic experiences awaited her here on this secluded estate-thousands of miles away from John.

Ann was offered a glass of superb Mexican red wine and she felt it shoot immediately to her head as she drank thirstily. She reminded herself how all her troubles started with that fateful drunken party of Mike's years ago, but she failed to see how things could possibly get any worse than they were at the moment and she was parched from the long ride, so she drank her fill, reasoning that whatever was going to happen would be easier to accept lightheaded.

The big negro, Ross, brushed by Ann's naked elbow and whispered something inaudible in his sloppy English about her sweet honey cunt, and Ann winced. She hesitated now before making her appearance. Slowly she walked into the crowded room. It was like one of Mike's typical parties: lots to drink, plenty of exotic food which she nibbled at, a sip of wine following each spicy mouthful.

Ann mingled with the crowd of half Mexicans, half Americans, feeling less conspicuous that way. Through the swirl of smoke and talk and faces, there was a profile that made her jump with a strange combination of joy and sorrow. It was Trudy! Trudy! She pushed her way through the crowd of chattering men and brown Mexican servant girls whose fannies were slapped and whistled at repeatedly, and wormed her way across the room.

Forcing her way through the crowd, Ann kept her eyes on her long time pal who stood casually smoking a cigarette which dangled from her purple polished nails, her brown curly hair bobbing with the nod of her head as she exchanged remarks with a Mexican servant who stood before her with a tray of Mexican pastries.

"Trudy!" screamed Ann, throwing her lithe arms around her estranged friend's neck.

"Ann, Ann Bailey!" Trudy's drink fell soundlessly onto the paisley carpet. "Let me look at you!" She forced her past cohort in shame to step back a few feet, her arms extended with her palms resting on Ann's shoulders. "You look great!" Trudy studied her figure with alluring surprise.

Heads turned and mouths gaped at the girls who stood clinging to each other, screeching in high voices.

"You are the last person in the world I expected ..." they mouthed the words simultaneously and giggled girlishly.

Stuffing their mouths with pastries and sipping the pungent red wine, the two women exchanged stores: Ann told of her happy marriage to John Barot and Trudy of her continued flying career. They looked at each other questioningly then, the obvious question on the tips of their tongues: Trudy broke the silence of their silent thoughtful probings.

"Are you still seeing Mike?"

"God no!" Ann shook her head, unable to stare her friend in the eye. "Just got a letter from his secretary yesterday and since my exams were over with, thought I'd take him up on it for old times."

Trudy could sense a look of shame in Ann's down-cast eyes. "Same thing happened to me. Believe me, Anna" she laid her slender hand on her friend's tanned arm, "I wouldn't fall into that trap again for the world!" She took another deep sip of her wine. "I just happened to have the weekend off, and since I was going to be in California, I thought I'd check out the action."

There was silence for a moment, a very uncomfortable silence Ann sensed, until Trudy finished Ann's thought for her. "You know I'm really sorry for ever dragging you along to that party -- I mean when you first met him." Ann needed no further explanation as to who 'him' was.

"Don't worry about it," reassured Ann. "It was my choice. Nobody made me do anything. I just wish I had met John years before."

"Did you know I had nothing to do with him until you left? Absolutely nothing!" Trudy shook her head convincingly. "He kind of bribed me into going out with him one night just to pry and find out where you'd gone to. But God! You didn't let anybody know. Not even me." Trudy sounded sad.

In the distance, behind Trudy's curly brown head, Ann could see the familiar face of Mike Boston, watching prudently from afar. "Wonder what that son of a bitch is up to," muttered Ann into her nearly empty wine glass as she tilted it to her mouth, knowing full well that Mike was up to some sexual scheming.

She feigned a smile and excused herself, wanting to be the first to make a move.

"Well hello, Mike," she sauntered over salaciously.

"How are you? Nice party."

"Oh, just fine," she lied offhandedly. "Just give me a few more days and he'll be as willing as a hungry dog to make that flight." John, please forgive me! she thought prayerfully in silence.

Mike gave a false laugh and guided her in the direction of a dark Latin American with dark glittering eyes that mentally undressed her. "I want you to meet the man who will be furnishing the plane for your husband's adventure, Ann."

Ann extended her arm to the dashing South American. He's not nearly as repulsive as most of Mike's friends, she reassured herself as Pedro bowed deeply, kissing her hand.

"Pedro, meet Ann. I'm sure I've told you about this lovely woman," he said rhetorically, his eyes meeting Pedro's with a knowing look that did not escape unnoticed.

"Happy to make your acquaintance," Ann said in a strong convincing voice, grateful that it did not fail her.

Standing next to Pedro was a Turkish man who was introduced to her as Mr. Golgan. His mustache twittered as. Ann gracefully held out her hand to him in turn and she could smell his heavily scented perfume that clouded her mind with its sweet aroma, like incense.

Having maintained her polite posture through the painful ordeal of meeting the very men who would cause her pilot husband's downfall, Ann dragged Mike by the elbow and shockingly enough, he did not resist.

"You seem anxious, my dear. Something wrong?" Mike's piercing eyes shot through her like a hot knife in the back.

"Just want to know what you're up to? What's Trudy doing here? She part of your little game too?"

Before Ann could finish her angry assault on the fiendish Mike Boston, Pedro was moving calmly among his friends, ordering the servants to leave bottles of wine at various strategic locations throughout the room and then dismissed them for the evening-the male servants, that is. A select few of the young Mexican women were ordered to stay.

"Looks as if Pedro has arranged some entertainment for us," said Mike grabbing at Ann's elbow. "Would you care to stay and watch? You might benefit from it," he added ominously.

The crowd started moving in the direction of the veranda where Ann could see the darkness and a handful of stars twinkling over head, as if winking back at her in mockery. Several of the people had already left or filtered off into bedrooms, Ann wasn't certain which: but whatever the situation, she knew there was no way out of this house without some trick of Mike's to debase and humiliate her.

The coolness of the night air felt like a cold shower on Ann's bare arms and it was a relief to be out of the smoke-filled room. Mike had left her now, and she wondered where Trudy might be. Probably in bed with a servant, she laughed to herself. A jazz combo was setting up in one corner of the brick-lined patio, and servants were setting up a long buffet table of tacos, salads, enchiladas, guacamole and Mexican pastries. A beautiful young Mexican girl dressed in a peasant blouse and colorful embroidered full skirt offered her a glass of wine which Ann anxiously accepted.

"How are you?" she heard the voice of Ed, Mike's pilot behind her.

Turning, she greeted him and, for the first time, noticed the young man's blonde curly hair and sparkling blue eyes. Either I'm getting drunk, she reflected, or these men are getting better looking as the time wears on. Probably that lurid scene yesterday with my gym teacher raping her student is responsible for my change of heart.

"I see we are going to have some music," Ed said, trying to fill the obvious gap in conversation. "Maybe some entertainment, too."

"What's it like working for Mike?" she asked, taking a long sip of her delicious red Mexican wine.

"I don't talk about my work. I know better." Thus ended the conversation on that matter.

"You're a beautiful young woman," remarked Ed confidently, "and smart too. You're in school, right?" She nodded her head. "What are you doing with Mike?" He asked the obvious question and she faltered before answering.

"I don't know." She took another sip. "What's going to happen?" she changed the subject as a servant hooked up another set of lanterns in the veranda next to an improvised stage where the combo was beginning to play familiar old melodies.

Now a tall, beautiful black woman, her height and wild Afro hairdo suggesting she was one of Mike's jokes, walked briskly in front of the jazz combo, dragging a small peasant Mexican boy behind her. She was dressed in a long flowing gown of bright African sunset colors which covered her from her bold square shoulders to the floor.

The congo drummer started playing a catchy beat and the black woman teased the small boy -- probably thirteen, Ann guessed -- into the area of the spotlight. With a pull of her strong long arm, the black woman wound him up like a yo-yo in a jitterbug step and then whirled him around in dizzying circles.

Ann felt sorry for the young boy who looked healthy and ravishingly beautiful and excited as he eyed the buffet table, piled high with beautiful food. His young face and sparkling dark eyes pierced Ann's heart as the youthful boy, innocent and maybe virginal, tried to follow the practiced steps of the woman who undoubtedly was a professional dancer, from Las Vegas. The black woman, her face a little wicked and hungry, was smiling at the crowd as if there was some secret that they shared, and as she swayed in time with the tempo, Ann could see the heaviness of her full breasts swaying freely.

At a certain point, the black woman stepped behind the lithe young Mexican boy and put her hands on his frail shoulders. The boy must have been told what to expect, or just didn't care, because he showed no surprise as the beautiful black woman began running her hands lasciviously over the young boy's body. The two of them danced together for a moment; the boy seeming to enjoy the physical touch of the aggressive older woman.

"What do you think that's all about?" Ann queried the pilot beside her.

"Don't know. Probably one of Mike's tricks," he answered dryly.

Ann turned to see the two bodies of the dancers pressed tightly together back to front, and then the black woman's hands traveled sensuously to where her partner's shirt was hanging open button less in the front.

Ann and Ed continued their conversation, turning their backs to the spectacle that gyrated and twirled on the brightly lit stage. Ed slipped his arm around Ann's waist, smiling innocently down into her dark brown ;eyes and pulled her unresisting form closer.

They turned to see the young Mexican boy dressed in his white cotton pants, secured at the waist by a single string that gathered the pants tightly around his thin waist. Ann groaned as she watched the now savagely smiling woman lower, her voluptuous curved body to his chest and, still swaying her ebony buttocks sensuously in time to the drum music, kiss each immature nipple on the boy's chest. Never once did he flinch or take his eyes off sensuously swaying breasts.

To his surprise, Ann did not pull away from Ed, as he had expected, but allowed her weight to rest against his chest, as if they were old familiar lovers.

The young, dark-skinned boy was now clad only in his skimpy ankle-high pants and he shivered visibly as he turned, still moving gracefully in time to the music, facing the older woman. The crowd gasped now, at least some of those unacquainted with Mike's rancid sense of humor as the woman mechanically unfastened the long flowing gown decorating her colorful body and let it fall to the floor as she shook her shoulders impatiently. She was now totally naked.

The boy was shocked; for a moment he stood flat-footed, completely losing the music's beat and staring at the lovely curved black flesh which had unexpectedly been revealed to him.

The tall woman simply smiled, paying very little attention to the crowd now gathered around her and her massive swinging breasts rocked back and forth as she shook her body to the increasing tempo of the music. Her eyes locked on her young victim's face, the black woman slowly dropped to her knees, her body still swaying sensuously from side to side and her hands running down from the young boy's shoulders to his slender hips. With a sudden movement, his pants were untied and pulled off and flew into the air.

Ann watched the boy shudder nakedly before the laughing audience and she wished she could rescue him from this humiliation that she herself had experienced at the hands of Mike. The boy looked fearfully in the direction of Mike and Pedro Cortes, inching Ann's speculation that the boy had been bribed with sex. Mike and Pedro laughed ribaldry in a dark corner of the veranda.

Still on her knees, the black woman began running her lips lightly over the boy's soft yielding stomach. At first the boy tried to play along with this unnatural affection, continuing to sway back and forth, tiny beads of perspiration forming on his back and rolling down over his firm tensed buttocks.

The big woman's lips dropped to the quivering boy's tiny hairless public region and Ann could see her thick red tongue licking lewdly at the stub of the boys pubescent penis. The boy stared down at the slavering woman and taking her by the hair, tried to pull her tighter to him. With a grunt, the unrelenting woman tipped him backwards, spilling him flat on his back and then, moving with surprising speed, climbed over him in the "69" position, pinning her young lover securely to the floor.

The crowd jeered and laughed at the wildly excited boy. "Something I've felt myself," muttered Ann in tones too low to be heard by Ed whose attention was growing more evident each moment as he caressed her covered breasts.

Excitement from the lewd display was now spreading voraciously around the room and Ann saw several Mexican peasants being grabbed at, their elastic-topped peasant blouses pulled well below their nipples.

Ann took another sip of wine and watched the black woman who was now burying her face in the virile young loins of her young boy lover. His head flailed from side to side as he swirled his young tongue deep up into the black woman's pubic region which she was grinding hotly above his tiny face.

A drunken Mexican peasant girl, apparently heated by the lewd tableau and a generous allotment of wine, leaped to the stage and pulling him free of the hungry woman, offered herself in sacrifice. The girl pulled up her full skirt and lay in the position the boy had occupied moments before. With a lusty groan, the boy, aroused now as he probably never had been before, began swirling his heated young tongue tightly up into her openly moistening pussy.

Ann stood sadly shaking her head. No doubt it was Mike's idea to lead him into wild sexual debauchery at his tender age.



Chapter 6

"Sorry I have to go now," apologized Ed as he released his tight grip around her shoulders. "Gotta get back with that plane or Mike'll have my ass, if you know what I mean."

"'Fraid so," was Ann's only answer. He had been her hope, her savior in this foreign world of crazy drunken people who now were clawing and tearing away at each other's clothing like fighting alley cats. "Let me go with you!" she clung onto his sinewy arm. "Please take me back to California." Ann pleaded.

"Sorry, but I have to pick some people up in Chula Vista on the way back. Boss would never allow it." He kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "You can walk me to the plane, though, if you wish. We can drive as far as the field." He took her hand and, calling for one of Pedro's chauffeurs, they escaped the heat of the orgy that was imminently approaching.

"Boss won't like you leaving without his permission, Ann." He looked down at her, a true expression of concern covering his blonde Nordic face.

But Ann didn't care. She'd seen enough. Teaching little kids to make love right in front of a crowd of people. "I don't care!" she blurted out. "He's sick!"

With the mirror angled directly on Ann's heavy breasts, the Mexican chauffeur drove them to the air strip where, kissing her goodbye, Ed promised to come visit her bungalow in the mountains of Mill Valley.

The crisp night air felt good on Ann's sweaty forehead and reluctantly, she got back into the car. There was silence until the black limousine stopped short of the mansion, veering off to the left near a cluster of ramshackle buildings, colorless even in the moonlight. Great holes like gouged out eyes dotted the shells of crumbling buildings, and Ann shuddered with revulsion at the sight of caverns she guessed to be the servants' quarters.

"What are you doing? I'm going back to the mansion, please." But the driver paid no heed to her protests and, slowing in front of the battered shell of a house, he got out of the car and opened the back door.

"Get out of dee car, ladee," he grinned, his white teeth glistening in the moonlight. Then he grabbed her by the arm and, pinning her slender arm backwards, slammed her against the car. Against her throat, Ann could feel the cold steel of his knife. An eerie creak of the trunk lid told her they were not alone. Out of her peripheral vision Ann saw another Mexican and gasped as she recognized the swarthy handsome face of Pedro's servant. Caesar, his dark eyes shimmering in the reflection of the moonlight.

The men exchanged a few sentences in Spanish and dragged her, one on each arm, into the dilapidated shack. Caesar threw her down on a double mattress on the floor of the earthy smelling shack. She struggled in trying to rise to her feet and heard a ripping sound as she felt a tug at her dress. Caesar lit a candle, immediately followed by a scurrying sound. Ann gasped loudly.

"Don't geet excited ladee. Eet's only rats!"

"Rats?" screamed Ann.

"What's dee matter? You reech Americanos never seen dee rats we must leev with?"

Ann's eyes widened as she scanned the floor for any sign of the hateful rodents, but all she saw was a dirt floor covered with old clothes and empty liquor bottles. She quivered and fell back on the mattress, a faint shadow cast on the far wall of the shack reflecting the profile of her two captors. She rested her trembling arm on the bare mattress that served as the sole furnishings of the servant's house. Her arms speckled with goose bumps as she felt the layer of dirt coating the bare striped mattress. For a brief second she felt sorry for their miserable living condition. How horrible to be forced to serve demanding wealthy people while living in such inhuman squalor. The remembrances of the small Mexican peasant who'd been molested by that wench on stage just a short while ago added to the fuel of her compassion, but only for a brief moment.

"Eeekkk!" She was on her feet again.

"Don't you worreee, laddee, eet's only my hand." The two Mexicans chortled loudly.

"What ... what do you want with me? Ann brushed her long blonde hair back from her face to get a better look at the Mexican who was now setting the knife down among the debris of broken liquor bottles.

"We like your preetee hair, mees." The chauffeur named Enrico stroked her baby soft hair. "You are such a preetee Americana!"

Ann's blood turned to ice. She closed her eyes tightly hoping against hope that she was asleep and this was all a dream, a devilish nightmare. Enrico's hands were on her breasts now, following the broad outline of their fullness. "You have such preetee breasts, senorita." She opened her eyes just wide enough to focus on the broadly grinning face of her captor, his dark oily hair creating a shadow over his sparkling eyes.

"We want you, mees. Wee want to fuck you."

"No, no." Ann recoiled down on the mattress, accidentally falling on the rusty spring that stuck out visibly from the tatters that once served as a resting place.

"Take,off your clothes, mees. We want to look at your preetee bodee."

It was an order, there could be no disobedience. She fumbled, silent, unable to speak for the humiliation she felt. She wanted to scream for help, but realized it was useless. The men's eyes burned huge holes in her breasts and pelvic area. When she hesitated -- hoping they might change their minds -- Enrico picked up the knife and held it threateningly fn front of her, its blade reflecting lightning flashes in the dim candlelight. Ann swallowed hard, but felt a foreign sensation in her throat, blocking her saliva. Probably my heart, she thought, taking a deep breath to calm her shattered nerves.

The sound of a clanging bell sent Caesar out of his position in the corner where he sat gulping down huge mouthfuls of liquor stolen from his master's house. He arose slowly, swearing in Spanish and, exchanging a few words with Enrico, ran out the door. The knife waved before her throat again, and she obediently pulled her dress over her head. She had dressed to please Mike and wore nothing but panties and a garter belt underneath her clinging dress. Then, eyes closed and unable to look at him, she slowly unfastened her stockings and slipped them over her slimly tapered ankles.

"Beauteeful, beauteeful," the Mexican panted, unbuttoning his white shirt, revealing his dark hair-covered chest. She knew what was coming next and she lay there on the mattress, her eyes closed in abject horror at the reality that unraveled before her. In a strange country, in a strange shack, with a very strange man. It was a repeat, she told herself, of that first . evening with Mike. Only this was more real somehow; poverty is always real. She closed her eyelids so tightly that stars flickered before the darkness of her fear. Tears welled up in her eyes. She had come to Mexico in hopes of saving her husband and herself, and she was about to be fucked half to death by an illiterate servant who could hold her captive for as long as he wished. Days, weeks, years!

Ann shivered at the feeling of the dirty mattress, barren and caked with dust. How many other women had they raped on this mattress? Where were those females now, if they were still alive? She'd heard about such things happening in Mexico, but never had she dreamed it would be happening to her.

She was aware that her legs were being spread apart. She flinched, in spite of herself, when his finger parted the softness of her pubic hair and touched her vaginal lips. She felt nothing. Only a deadness down there as he began his perverted licking.

The numbness lasted until he reached the clitoris; he put his thick soft lips on it and began sucking as though it were a very small penis. Ann's body stiffened as she felt the unwelcome sensations return down there. Next she felt his tongue curl hotly up into her cunt; it was like an electric cattle prodder placed in there. She jumped, trying to pull herself away from him. Then the slow, rhythmic, tantalizing licking began again. She flexed the muscles along her inner thighs attempting to make the unwanted feeling of pleasure go away but it only added to her enjoyment. With the tensing of her thighs, Enrico went back to lick again at the tiny, suddenly pulsating, clitoris.

"What preetee woman you are."

Now Ann began to moan and sob as she realized what these sensations, these familiar old sensations implied. No, this couldn't be happening to her, a happily married woman. The nerve endings down there were betraying her -- again! She could understand how she'd tolerated the ravishment of Mike's men, but this, this peasant down between her legs was a different matter altogether.

But in spite of her revulsion at the act, her abdomen rose and fell with increasing rapidity as the peasant servant bean taking long licking strokes with his tongue and using his nose to buffet the clitoris while his mustache was scraping against her tightly clenched cunt. She knew she was beginning to secrete lubricants, but it wasn't until she discovered her pelvis was beginning to grind lewdly up into his knowingly smiling face that she realized she had lost. Her shamelessly aroused body was moving independently now. His hungry mouth enclosed the entire vaginal labia area and he began sucking voraciously at it. The exquisite sensations shot across her loins into the nerve endings at the mouth of her womb. His drooling mouth kept the lips tightly clamped, his tongue pressured its way through the compressed vaginal lip, and Ann almost lost her mind attempting to control her reactions.

Finally -- and she knew it the second that it happened -- she reached the point of no return. She was going to have a climax! She fought it, screamed against it in her mind, but muscles and nerves all rebelled against the discipline -- seeking instead the sweet release. Then her pelvis was jerking and her hands, locked behind his head, were trying to pull the peasant's face all the way up into her hotly tingling pussy, and a voice she couldn't control screamed, "I'm cummmmmmmmingl Oh God! lick faster, harder!"

She was almost unconscious from the combination of shame and satiation when Enrico raised her knees to her chest. Abruptly she felt his naked cock pressing against her openly spread cunt.

She attempted to scissor her legs, but the movement caused him to slip forward and his long hard cock slid effortlessly into the mouth of her cunt. "Gaaagh," she screamed. God, it was even bigger than the big negro's that had fucked her the other day! It was a hot, fleshy telephone pole plunged into her.

"You like that, mees?" He moved it out a bit; the withdrawal motion was agonizing. "Oooooohh, God! No, please. You're hurting me. Please, I'll do anything ... but." A sudden jab was the only answer to her pitiful plea. She was suddenly screaming at the top of her voice as he began rapidly fucking into her; she jerked her eyes open to see the Mexican's amused sadistic grin above her. He was fucking her brains out and enjoying every second of it.

Her vagina felt as though it had been stretched by three cocks at once and was ready to burst. His cock lay throbbing, sunk deep into her belly, filling every part of her insides. There wasn't a single fleshy ridge of his prick that she could not feel as it pressed tight against the soft inner walls of her cunt.

Enrico grinned down at her. He flexed his cock inside her belly and she felt it jerk up and against the cervix. "Aaaaaggghh," she groaned, and her face was visibly twisted in pain.

"Oooohhh ..." She kept her stomach muscles as tight as possible, hoping she would create an intolerable pressure for him down there.

Slowly, Enrico pulled his hardened penis from her tight vaginal sheath until it was about half out, then slowly -- oh, so very slowly, fucked it in again. He did this for about five minutes.

"Oooohhhh, please ... you're too big for me ..." trying to win some mercy from her captor, fully conscious that she was screaming a lie. Oh, it was tight. Very tight, and she was being stretched like she'd never been before; but the slow, salacious movements were not painful!

Enrico continued to move his cock back and forth slowly. Ann could hear her vagina making a wet, lewd sucking noise as it slipped moistly in and out of her fully opened vagina and that too suddenly began to add to the forbidden excitement she felt coursing through her betraying body.

"You reech Americanas, you must beg me to fuck you, mees," Enrico snarled between clenched teeth. Looking up, Ann could see the beads of prespiration dotting his oily dark forehead.

"Ooooh no! Please no." That would be the final straw -- it was too familiar, the repetition from her sordid past. She had maintained a tiny shred of pride because she knew she was being raped, dragged off to this rotten smelling hole by two Mexican peasants.

Ann clenched her teeth shut when she felt the pleasant warmth, a pleasant pressure. When his penis twitched again she felt her own inner cunt muscles involuntarily responding, sucking inward, bringing a smile to his dark face.

She fought with every bit of willpower she had to keep from doing that again. In her struggles she hadn't been conscious of doing that the first time; she wasn't sure how it happened against her will ... please, please, just don't let it happen again. But it did happen and there was a minor groan from him. It happened again ... and again ... and again until it seemed almost as if she had an electric milking machine down there between her legs.

"You feel so good, mees," Enrico's greasy voice whispered in her ear. The ladee beg me, thought the Mexican servant, so I'll jes' see how much of theese she can take.

Enrico was making a slow rocking motion between her thighs. She could feel the narrow passageway to her hotly grinding belly being widened with each short stroke. The friction had caused her vagina to run -- within seconds -- the entire spectrum from cold agony to hot willing anticipation. The hot passion outside was being rubbed and pushed inside; she could feel it creeping relentlessly along the vaginal walls to the tip of her uterus. She fought that too. She fought her breathing, which was becoming more shallow, more rapid. The perspiration popped out on her forehead as she fought a desperate losing battle with her pelvis after discovering it shamelessly rising to meet the downward thrust of his cock; she forced her pelvis back on the mattress. A second later, though, it had begun moving slowly upward again.

"Oooooooh," moaned Ann. And then, as suddenly as it began, the battle was over. Ann's body was asserting its independence from her wishes, her ethics, her morals and her husband. The lewd flames of lust coursed salaciously through her veins, and her heart sped up its action in an effort to get the hot desire-contaminated blood into every part of her body. Her pelvis was the first to unleash itself. After a long struggle, it began moving up and down of its own volition on the golden rod of hardness -- the two things moving in harmony and growing excitement. Her inner muscles went next; twitching against, massaging, and milking the cock for its entire length. One section of muscle squeezed so tightly on Enrico's prick that he groaned uncomfortably. "Mees, you sure do know how to fuck."

It was all getting away from her. Ann could mentally stand off and watch her body -- it was watching the actions of a lust-crazed prostitute beneath a strange Mexican's pounding weight. Her face was beginning to twist in an expression of unbridled desire. Her body writhed beneath him, and she made low hums of passionate encouragement with each new thrust of his prick. Her breath now was coming in puppy-like pants. Her legs on either side of his driving hips were moving in tiny lewd circles as though she were using a hula hoop. Now there was nothing but a delicious sensation of lying beneath this man who was bringing her rapidly to a peak of glory she had never consciously known existed. She was Gumming again.

"Oooooh, I'm ... I'm cumming!" She wanted it, so bad ...

Then, Enrico stopped.

Unbelievingly she looked up at his darkly smiling face, his oily skin glistening in the candlelight. "You Americanas sure like to fuck, eh?"

She stared at him, burning hatred in her.

Suddenly, she felt a strange finger rubbing from her vagina to her anus!

She caught her breath and twisted around, then moaned in shock when she saw Caesar beside the mattress. He was completely naked; his long thick cock was at full erection.

"Hello, ladee," Caesar said and pressured his wet finger into her tightly puckered little rectal mouth.

"Oh, no ... please no," Ann panted. "You can't ..." She jerked and tried to rise.

"Hold her, Enrico," Caesar ordered, and Ann felt Enrico's arms lock again like a vise around her waist. She groaned again, this time from the pressure, as the finger moved all the way in to its knuckle. She groaned as he began fucking it back and forth. Ann attempted to get away from it by pressing down; this only skewered her cunt more deeply on Enrico's cock fucking up into her from below.

She could feel the prick flexing inside of her. She tensed her buttocks tight in an effort to escape the finger; the action did nothing to halt Caesar's intrusion, but Enrico moaned in delight on top of her.

Caesar was kneading the left cheek of her ass with his hand. He kissed the sensitive little spot just below the base of her spine and bit her buttocks teasingly. And all the time his finger fucked rhythmically at the straining depths of her tightly clenched rectum.

"Please ... no," Ann had begun, but then said, "gaaaggghhh" as a second finger joined the first.

"Hurree, Caesar," Enrico commented. "This Americana ladee is fucking meee to death."

The pressure in her anus and rectum was intense. Ann splayed her legs to avoid the momentary pain, but this only brought a third finger into play -- all of them now making ever widening circles as her asshole was expanded even wider.

Satisfied finally, Caesar climbed atop the bed. He peeled open her soft, yielding buttocks with his thumbs and then leaned forward to drop a large drop of saliva which drooled down the smooth white crevice to her anus.

He shuffled up between her and Enrico's legs. He clamped his hands on her hips. Then he pressed forward with his cock. Ann fought it once again, but was held immovable by Enrico's arm and Caesar's grip. The head of Caesar's prick slipped easily into the already widely stretched anal opening and he kept right on fucking it in until all of a sudden, ;his balls slapped softly down against Enrico's below.

"Gaaggghhh!" she screamed. "You're killing me!"

Ann felt as though someone had shoved pillows filled with rocks into her abdomen. Her asshole was filled, her cunt was filled. There was only a thin membrane separating the two pricks, and they rubbed and bumped against each other like hungry sharks in an aquarium.

It was not long before the two dark Mexican men began fucking her between them-like a rag doll thrown in a game of catch. She had never felt so helpless and naked before in her life. Even those wildly arousing experiences with the negro and oriental were nothing compared to this. This was the end.

Caesar began driving in and out of her rectum with maniacal fury; Enrico was obviously close to cumming. Ann could feel the discomfort being replaced by a kind of masochistic pleasure. Unable to escape ... unable to prevent it ... her body had no recourse but to accept.

And once again she lost control of her bodyl She could feel her orgasm coming back again ... it seemed to hover like a bird of prey looking for a place to land.

Then with frightening suddenness, she was there! It was she, who in her sudden desperate hunger, took control away from the two men and she began frantically bucking between them, urging them on to harder and deeper thrusts. She reared her hotly grinding cheeks high in the air to get the full length of Caesar's cock in her ass, then ground heavily backward and down skewering herself harder still down on Enrico's wildly pistoning cock in her hungrily devouring cunt.

"Fuck me," she screamed. "Fuck me harder ... oh God! ... harder!" And it was her soprano scream that started the sweet upheaval first in her cunt, then seconds later in her rectum, and then in her clitoris. She came in all three places and she continued to cum as long as the men would have her; until they fell from her in satiated fatigue.

"What a fuck you are, mees," purred Enrico. Caesar lay silently staring into the shadows of her face.



Chapter 7

"Just can't keep away from cock, can you?"

Ann jumped at the familiar ring of that careful drawl. "Mike! Mike!" For a second she was relieved to see the face of the well-dressed man in the dim candlelight who looked like a specter standing there in the darkness of the doorway.

"They raped me!" she blurted out, clawing over the bodies of the two Mexicans as she pulled herself out of the mass of flesh that lay sweating in the heat of the summer night.

"Get your clothes on," Mike growled and, taking her by the hand pulled her off the bed with such force that she lay naked at his feet, groveling in the pile of liquor, bottles that clattered as she threw the broken bits and pieces away from her tender flesh.

Mike was counting out bills now from his alligator wallet as Ann sobbed hysterically, pulling on her torn and dirty dress. She had lost her panties in the foray and her stockings were anything but presentable as she held their transparent remains before the dim light for examination.

"Good work, boys." He handed Enrico and Caesar a generous handful of bills.

"Why, you son of a bitch!" screamed Ann in a shrill soprano voice. "You paid these men to rape me!" She was standing now, her once fashionable dress in shreds, her knees bleeding from the broken bottles that had ground into her feminine flesh, and picking up tier heavy platform shoe, wielded it over her head like a sword ready for attack. She wanted to smash his face in, see him bloody and humiliated on his knees. But Mike's strong hand caught her forearm in a vise-like grip that buckled her legs from the agony of his twisting arm that sent her to her knees, before him, a broken woman.

"I'm not through with you yet, you bitch!" Mike's scowl had turned to a crooked smile now as he studied the tear-stained face of the woman before him. Her thick yellow hair looked like a lion's mane, and her face was smeared with dirt and mascara. A tiny trickle of blood, the only color in the dark room, ran down her chin -- a self-inflicted wound from biting her lip in the wild, passionate orgasm she had just gone through.

"Now get to your feet! We're taking a little ride," he snarled. "Would Ann like to play stewardess to the honorable Mr. Golgan?"

"No, no, please no," whimpered Ann, choking on the helplessness of her situation. "I've had enough. Kill me, do whatever you want with me, but please, just please leave me alone."

"Come on, Ann. Get to your feet!" snarled Mike. "Quit acting like Miss Goody Two Shoes. I've seen you beg for someone to fuck you, I've seen you show off that body of yours like a stripper. I've seen you eat dirt and cock at the same time. You humiliated me once -- once too often. And now, my dear lady," he snarled, taking her by the hair and forcefully pulling her to her feet, "you are going to do me a favor. You are going to make me some money, some big money. I hope you like cocaine. Mr. Golgan is here with a sample." He tightened his grip on the roots of her hair and gave an extra convincing tug. "Because if he likes the little show you and a good friend of yours are going to put on, I am in business." He spoke the last words slowly.

"You're crazy!" she screamed at such volume that the two Mexicans ran from the shack, still naked.

"It'll teach you to stop rubbing against my men. The walls have ears you know!"

"You said," she gasped from the pain of her hair being pulled by the roots, "that it was John you wanted to fly ..."

"That comes later. Right now there are other more imminent matters." He let her loose then and called for the chauffeur. "Hey! You, driver, come back here!"

In minutes they were back in the black limousine on their way to the air strip where another of Mike's planes awaited her arrival. Ann shuddered and quaked from the chill coursing through her bloodstream. Christ, will I ever get back to California? she moaned to herself as an unidentified arm helped her into the plane where she immediately headed for the restroom to tidy up her disheveled body.

She cried in shock at the sight reflected in the mirror. Certainly that couldn't be Ann Barotl she cried silently. Her tanned face was streaked with mascara and tears. She had lost her purse in the shack and she fumbled through the medicine cabinet for a brush. She cried with joy at the sight of a fully equipped make-up bag and washcloths. She cleaned her face off with gentle wipes and building from scratch, applied layer after layer of makeup to her visibly tortured face.

"Much better," she sighed as she smeared another layer of brown-red lipstick over her swollen lips. With a safety pin, she gathered together the gaping wounds in her new dress, and walked out to her fate.

"Ann, you remember my friend, Mr. Golgan?" Ann extended her hand, glancing around the interior of the plane. All the seats had been removed to allow more freedom of movement, mused Ann, and replaced with large, brightly covered pillows. In the center was a round mattress, conspicuously a stage for Mike's lewd performances. The ceiling was painted with cupids, their tiny penises circled with haloes. The walls were papered with mylar that shimmered in the dimness of the candlelight. Mike has outdone himself, thought Ann as she scanned the plane's cabin to see the oriental, Fred, sitting on a nearby pillow chopping up a white powder with a razor blade. It clinked as it slapped against the small mirror built into an end table. How clever thought Ann; he has it all set up. Ross, the big negro, sat next to Fred, his long legs stretched out before him and Ann almost fell over him as she searched the room for an empty spot to rest her wracked body.

"Why ... Ann?" A voice from a dark corner echoed her suspicions. It was Trudy!

"What are you? ..." Ann rose to her feet and approached the cowering body of her friend. "I thought you'd left?"

"Shhhh," warned Trudy, holding her finger over her mouth. "We're in for it now."

"I know." Ann nodded her head.

"Before this whole lurid scene starts, I want you to promise that you won't hate me," she stuttered. "I mean, it's because we have to, if we ever want to get out of his hell-hole alive."

"Okay." Ann patted Trudy on the knee reassuringly.

Mike Boston returned from the cock pit. "Ladies, I'm sure you have both met Mr. Golgan, correct?" He sounded like a tourist guide. "He has graciously treated us to some fine cocaine and I would be most appreciative if you would tell me what you think of it ... after we have pleased Mr. Golgan." He stared into Ann's flooding eyes.

Politely, Ann accepted the mirror, .now detached from its base, and, placing the straw to her nostril, took a deep sniff. The sensation stung her sinus membranes and she felt a strange compulsion to sneeze, but seeing Mike's eyes burning into her brain, she obediently took another long snort before passing it on to Trudy who anxiously awaited her turn.

"He told me that's why he wanted me to stay -- to help him taste this shit. Should have known better!" whispered Trudy in a husky voice.

The bizarre mixture of wine and cocaine shot through Ann's body and suddenly she felt alive again -- very alive. And even more so, she felt happy and gregarious. Another mirror was passed now and with anxious anticipation she snorted loudly, the cocaine soaring to her brain, making every corner of it consciously alert. Ann felt her body tingling in a tactile sensuous way. Her mind was darkened and she didn't care to think, only feel.

All of them now, Mr. Golgan, Fred, Mike and Ross were seated on pillows, everyone obviously anxious for action.

"That's enough," announced Mike. "Our friend is ready for a little action." Mike's two goons sat silently with absent smiles on their faces, waiting, knowing what would come next.

"How about a little show, girls?" urged Mike. "Trudy you're the experienced one. Let's get on with it."

Trudy shot one look of sad apology at her friend Ann who sat nervously paring her fingernails with her left hand. Slowly then, Trudy stood up and pulled her dress off and Ann could hear the men catch their breath, slicing through the darkness of the dimly lit plane cabin. Despite the darkness of her corner, Ann could see that Trudy had maintained her figure and all she was wearing was a brassiere and black silk stockings. She hadn't bothered with panties, an old habit of hers, thought Ann. She stood there obscenely naked, her wedge of pussy hair showing, and, as Ann looked, she saw her vaginal lips swelling with desire.

Slowly, upon cue, Ann stood up and reached behind to unhook the single safety pin that secured her tattered dress. Trudy slipped behind her and helped, pulling her dress down to her waist and helping her get the dress off her shoulders, letting her hands slip down to cup her breasts while the tip of her tongue licked at the back of her neck and sent goosebumps down her spine.

So this was what Mike had planned. Ann thought, like Trudy I've done most everything else -- I've turned tricks, I've done many perverted things, but never this. He wants to turn me into a lesbian!

Trudy, standing behind her, let her arms slide down over her stomach and her fingers gently teased the lips of Ann's vagina, now naked and unprotected. "Please don't hate me for this," Trudy repeated her plea.

A shudder ran through the fearful blonde's body as she felt one of Trudy's hands slip behind her and salaciously run her hand up and down her spine with a light touch of her fingertips. Ann's mind was fogged by the wine and cocaine and she did not resist when Trudy's hands were all over her, nibbling at her nipples, sliding over her buttocks and whispering over her vagina, arousing her in a way. no man ever could, exciting her in a lewd way that only another woman could know.

Trudy turned her around so that they stood facing one another, quite close, and Trudy let her tongue lick out so that it just touched Ann's lips. She closed her eyes and could feel Trudy's fingers pulling her dress over her hips. It was slipping low and she could feel the tips of her fingers expertly caressing . her vagina, feeling unerringly for her clitoris and exciting it, rubbing it into vibrant life.

Hot sensual feeling mounted through her body and her mind drifted as she felt Trudy's tongue on her lips and her fingers on her clitoris. Despite herself, her body began to move and she remembered something she had once wished. It was almost as if Mike could read her lewd mind. She remembered wanting to be on a stage, naked, and do whatever she was commanded to do. She remembered the excitement of such an idea and of all the people caressing her and of all the cocks around her.

Only this was real and more exciting! This was raw sensual lewdness and she was behaving in a perverted way while men watched and approved and soon, soon, they would be fucking her and she would be ready!

Time had stopped again and she realized that her dress was off, that she had stepped out of it and she was standing with her legs wide apart and Trudy's hand was caressing her cunt and it was moist and hot and she was feeling excitingly lewd. Her tongue flicked out and the two of them stood licking, not kissing, as her hands went behind Trudy and she undid her brassiere and felt it fall to the floor of the plane. She heard the men murmuring and grunting approval. More than heard, she could feel them. The plane's interior fairly swam in a sexual heat that mingled with the heady pungent odor of marijuana that the men were now sharing. The two women stood face to face, naked except for Trudy's stockings and shoes, their tongues licking while Trudy reached and slid a finger all the way up into Ann's cunt and Ann felt herself doing something she had never dreamed she'd do-caress another woman's breasts, tease Trudy's nipples into taut erection, arousing her with a feminine knowledge of what she herself would appreciate.

Mr. Golgan was beside himself. He rolled in his chair, his penis exposed in his hand. He sat with wet eyes and watched the two women. Never, never in his harem in Turkey had he seen such beautiful women, so mystically enthralled with one another. Fred and Ross both had their cocks out and were also watching in a drugged, unblinking stupor.

He saw two women gradually going wild, exciting each .other in a state of wild abandonment. The tall one, the one called Ann, had a magnificent figure with high full breasts, a thin waist and full long thighs, and she was standing now with her legs slightly bent and spread apart, her pelvis thrust obscenely out while the other one, Trudy, the brown curly-headed one, was sliding two fingers in and out of her widespread cunt. Mr. Golgan saw how full and open her cunt was with passion and from where he sat, he could see the pink walls of her cunt glistening with passion.

Mike watched from his cushion, feeling the excitement and tension in the room mount as the two women, one naked' and the other nearly naked, stood face to face and their tongues flicked out and licked and he saw Trudy's free hand go slowly to her breast and take one of Ann's teasing hands and slowly guide it down to her own loins.

Ann let Trudy guide her hand down until she felt her softly curling pubic hair. From there, her fingers explored, touching, feeling. She let the tip of her middle finger slide between Trudy's swollen vaginal lips and she thrilled at the first time of ever touching another woman's vagina. Her finger slid along the slit, feeling the moistness and the excitement mounting as Trudy rolled her pelvis out and spread her legs.

The two women were standing so close, their stomachs and breasts touched and they swayed their shoulders back and forth, rubbing their nipples against each other as Ann, with a wild lewd thrill, felt her finger slide up into Trudy's warm wet cunt and she began sawing in and out as the two of them pumped their hips in wanton lewdness.

The plane was now completely silent as sex hung in the air in every corner and every eye was riveted on the two women moving and caressing each other in such an obscene way. Ann, her eyes closed, her body aflame with passion from the liquor and cocaine and Trudy's knowing obscene caresses, felt the other woman's middle finger pull out of her cunt and her hands slipping around behind her. Trudy was cupping her buttocks in her hands and pulling her forward toward her own out-thrust loins.

Similarly, Ann cupped the cheeks of Trudy's buttocks and the two women stood in the center of the plane with their knees bent, their thighs flush against one another, their backs arched away from each other, their heads thrown back in abandon and their hair hanging free as they ground their cunts together and Ann felt the thrill of her pubic hair slipping on Trudy's wet cunt and the electric excitement of Trudy's pubic hair scraping over her own clitoris and teasing it to new heights of sensual feeling. Occasionally, their wet cunts would meet and then they would clutch , one another and pump obscenely.

Ann felt dizzy with lust and excitement and started to fall, completely uncaring what happened to her so long as this delicious torment would continue while the men watched.

Mr. Golgan gave a cry of delight as Ann fell on the huge cushion behind her, sprawling across it with her legs split wide over the side. Trudy reached and pulled Ann's hips forward until they were right on the comer. Then she spread the girl's legs wide and Ann let them fall open with a lazy lewd motion. Trudy knelt up between them then, and, using the palm of her hands to force her thighs still wider apart, she leaned over Ann and saw her milk-white belly flowing up to her huge breasts and her head that fell in wild abandon off the other side of the cushion. Trudy's tongue darted down and licked her navel and Ann let out a long moan of pleasure.

Slowly, Trudy began licking down the reclining blonde's stomach, finally burying her face in her blonde curling pubic hair and, seeing Ann's cunt opened and twitching convulsively, begging in a rhythmic way as it glistened with excitement. All the men in the room sat forward watching Ann's cunt with lewd awe.

Ann, her head thrown back, could think of nothing else but her present state and she wished they would all crowd around her, that they would fuck her one after another and that Trudy would make love to her and that it would go on all night.

Trudy's tongue came out and slowly licked around Ann's swollen vaginal lips while Ann moaned and her whole body shook with desire. And she thrust her hips up and split her legs wide while the men murmured and grew even more excited.

Slowly, so torturously slowly, Trudy's tongue snaked up and down her cunt, barely touching it, teasing it into wilder desire. Ann groaned aloud as she felt the lewd thrill and her body began to move and writhe, and she longed for more.

Suddenly, Trudy plunged her tongue home into the depths of Ann's aching cunt, and Ann reacted by crying out and bending her knees and pulling them back and up so that they crushed against her magnificent breasts as she felt Trudy's knowing tongue darting about in her hotly pulsing cunt, driving her mad with desire.

Trudy pulled her tongue out to lick slowly over the other girl's trembling clitoris and Ann found she couldn't keep her hips still as she writhed lewdly in pagan delight.

Trudy, wild with desire, broke away and fell on top of her like a man, her tongue licking out. "Did you like that?" she whispered in her ear as her pussy ground down hard on Ann's nakedly exposed cunt.

"Yessssss!" Ann hissed.

"Would you do that to me?"

"Yes, yes, anything!" Ann said in a hoarse voice as their bodies, covered with sweat now, writhed together on the cushion. They grew so lewd as they licked tongues again and rubbed their cunts together that the men -- Mr. Golgan and Fred and Ross-gathered closer around them, sweat standing out on their faces as they licked their salty lips, their mouths suddenly dry from cocaine and a savage desire to fuck the two women who were exciting themselves into a frenzy.

And it was true. Ann found herself in a state she had never experienced before and Trudy's phrase "please forgive me," added to her heat -- she wanted to please her friend and she would. The more the two of them writhed and licked and caressed, the more excited she became. She was being driven into a frenzy -- a wild, heated, driving, surging passion: a feeling that kept building and swelling that seemed to surpass an orgasm. The more she did, the more excited she became; the more excited she grew, the more she wanted to do.

She was in a lewd hissing abandon; her eyes closed tight, her teeth gritted and bared. She wrapped her long tan legs around Trudy's waist and locked her ankles and squeezed with all her might, flattening her yearning cunt against Trudy's. They moaned and licked and writhed on the cushion while their hips pumped and they rocked back and forth -- rocked too far, teetered, and fell to the floor of the plane with a heavy thump and rolled apart.

Dazed, Ann got to her hands and knees and looked around. Trudy was next to her on the carpet covered floor of the airplane, sprawled spread-eagle, opening her moist cunt to Ann and all the men in the room.

Ann crawled between her legs and looked down at her. There was no denying the lewd excitement of a woman in heat. For the first time, Ann saw another woman as an object of sexual desire. She bent her elbows slightly, lowering her breasts so that her nipples just touched those of Trudy.

She let her torso sway back and north, rubbing her nipples over Trudy's breasts. Then, sensing the men in the room and knowing her bare buttocks were facing them, she split her legs wide, stretching her knees out until they touched the insides of Trudy's thighs. Every man in the plane, all of them, as one, moved closer to see Ann's cunt spread wide and pinkly glistening.

Slowly, she lowered her body onto Trudy who was thrusting her hips up in wild abandon; slowly she lowered her weight until she was pressed against Trudy's body and their wetly seeping cunts met and Ann pumped- her hips obscenely. Mr. Glogan was on the floor now watching, peering, his breath coming in quick little pants. "Such beauty of form," he muttered to himself with unbelieving eyes that twinkled in the dim light.

It was as if all of them were hypnotized by the immensity and taste and smell of lust in the plane. No one spoke; all pressed closer. They were almost touching the two women as they watched Trudy seize her breasts in her hands, cupping and tilting them and offering them up to Ann.

Ann bent her head and her tongue licked out at a nipple, feeling strange and lewd that she would like another woman's breasts, especially a long-time friend's. It was odd and lascivious, for she knew what would excite Trudy and she let her body slide down and took one of the pink nipples in her ruby mouth and gently sucked on it while the tips of her teeth nibbled teasingly. Trudy offered her breasts and Ann took them, caressing, sucking, licking.

A mad desire was mounting in her; an inhuman need to claw and writhe and drive herself away from this sweet torment and onto the ecstatic relief of an orgasm. Her body was aflame and, as the men watched, she wiggled down over Trudy who was moaning now, bending her knees, her hands playing with Ann's long blonde hair, as Ann, eyes closed, licked Trudy's navel and stuck her tongue deeply into it.

In Ann's drugged mind, it was almost as if she were a spectator, watching herself. It was almost as if she were outside of herself, another person, watching two other women make love and the sight was exciting.

Am I really doing this, she wondered. Is this really me? Am I really licking her pubic hair and the inside of her thighs?

Her eyes were open just a slit, her eyelids heavy with passion and there, not an inch away, at the apex of Trudy's lovely thighs, was her red-fringed cunt. Her fingers seemed to belong to somebody else as she gently spread the swollen cunt lips and Trudy's pussy-bright pink, moist, hot, slowly writhing-was there, right in front of her eyes.

Am I going to do it, she asked herself. This? Am I going to lick a cunt? This, this, finally?

Her tongue slowly slid out from between her lips and Ann closed her eyes and buried her head in Trudy's crotch and felt the pulpy pulsating heat and moistness of Trudy's cunt as her tongue darted and wiggled. And she loved it! She knew she was driving Trudy mad and the thought only excited her all the more.

Trudy wrapped her legs around Ann's neck and thrust her hips up and undulated and moaned, her arms flailing out at her sides. They writhed across the floor of the plane, rolling over once so that Ann lay on her back with Trudy on her stomach, her crotch on Ann's face as her hips pumped up and down against the maddening thrusts of Ann's tongue.

Thrashing her hair back and forth, Trudy up and leaped to her feet, her chest heaving, their bodies glistening with sweat and thrilling with desire.

"Let me fuck yow!" Trudy said, taking Ann by the shoulders and guiding her to the round mattress in the center of the plane where she lay on her back and spread her legs.

She lay in a dream of lust; it was all so unreal and yet it was happening! Dreamily, she bent her knees and let her legs fall to either side of the mattress so that they all could see her lust. The swollen slit of her cunt was glistening now. She watched, her eyes half-closed, her fingertips idly caressing her distended nipples as Fred and Ross came forward. Ross was carrying something, and, as they approached, Trudy stood still, her legs apart and her arms raised.

Ross was carrying what looked like a shaft with straps and buckles attached. The two men looked down at Ann with a wild tight expression on their faces. Both of them wanted her. But they knew their job and they kneeled around Trudy, greedily and lustfully taking in her naked hips and began adjusting the straps.

Ann saw it was a dildo, an artificial cock; a big plastic life-like prick that they were strapping to Trudy, tightening one strap across her buttocks, pinching the flesh in, then fastening a strap around each thigh and adjusting the buckles so that the prick was erect. Bending her knees, using one hand, Trudy slipped the smaller end of the artificial penis into her cunt.

Each thrust of the dildo would excite and please her as well.

When she was ready, she cupped her hands in front of her and Ross poured oil into her palms. Trudy turned to the mattress, coming to Ann slowly, provocatively, her hips swaying while her hands smeared oil all over the artificial penis.

Ann was ready for anything. This was just like Mike's stag films, only better. Ann thrust her hips up and her hands squeezed her breasts as she offered all of her sex to Trudy in this final depravity. Trudy crawled on the mattress, between Ann's taut thighs and the men in the room saw her strapped thighs and buttocks.

She lowered herself slowly as Ann, underneath, slid her hands under her buttocks and lifted her hips up so that her pussy jutted out and her cunt twitched and seemed to have a life of its own as it reached for the thick white head of the dildo.

Trudy, with a lewd cunning, rubbed the head up and down the lubricated slit and Ann squeezed her eyes shut and let her head roll back and forth, her breasts sticking up and quivering and glistening with sweat. "Fuck me!" she breathed, her voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. "Fuck me!" she pleaded, her voice one long lewd sigh.

Trudy put the head on the entrance to her cunt and pushed down, feeling it sink into the pulpy willing flesh and feeling the end in her own cunt expand and fill her with wild desire.

"Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!" Ann sighed and Trudy's deep moan of delight seemed to echo hers as the men in the plane watched the artificial head plow in, pulling her vaginal lips obscenely spread apart and watched Ann's body undulate in slow rhythmic lewdness as she tried to literally gobble the prick up.

Slowly Trudy withdrew an inch to plunge down, sending a good three inches of shaft driving home into Ann's cunt. Then the men crowded even closer, watching Trudy's strapped buttocks and thighs pump in and out as she fucked Ann like a man. Below her, Ann was bending her legs even more, her toes on the floor on either side of the mattress as she thrust her hips forward to take all of the artificial prick and Trudy fell heavily on top of her and shot her tongue in her mouth.

They writhed and undulated together on the round mattress, crushing their breasts together as Trudy drove the artificial cock all the way to the hilt and felt the other end swelling in her own cunt and tantalizing her on to more motion. Each time she withdrew, the fitted end in her own cunt would contract; each time she thrust home, the end would swell and surge in her and she began fucking faster and faster, building to a frenzy, the two of them digging their nails into one another as they fucked with all their strength and will.

Mr. Golgan was tearing his clothes off, his greasy face wild, his nostrils flaring. He crawled onto the round mattress, naked, his hands caressing the two women as they fucked and licked one another. He crawled up on the round mattress until his hips were on a level with their faces and then he lay on his side, jutting out his hips so .that his thick rock-hard cock stuck in their faces.

It seemed as though Ann and Trudy fought for his cock; their hands all over it, their tongues licking, their mouths open. Ann lay on her back with Trudy on top of her, feeling their soft, sweat-covered breasts crushed together with their nipples slipping and sliding as the great dildo fucked in and out of her cunt and watched Trudy take Mr. Golgan's lust-bloated penis in her mouth and suck on the head. Craning forward, she put her mouth around the shaft- and felt Mr. Golgan pull his cock out of Trudy's mouth and plunge it thickly into her own and she closed her eyes and sucked, loving the taste, having it build her lust and depravity even higher.

Mr. Golgan shoved his cock first into one mouth and then the other, panting, his gold teeth showing as he felt the two women suck and fight for his cock.
Other bodies were crashing onto the bed. Ross and Fred were crawling on the mattress too now, pawing the women. They were naked and wild with excitement and one jammed his finger up Trudy's anus as the other tried to wedge his hand underneath Ann, his finger probing for her own puckered and wildly sensitized anus.

Suddenly Fred and Ross were pulling Trudy off, throwing her off on her back, tearing at the buckles and tossing the dildo and straps to the floor and, as Ann watched and a deep dark lewd thrill ran through her naked body, Trudy disappeared under an avalanche of thrashing sex-mad bodies.

Ann let her head fall back. It would happen to her. Many men and many cocks ravishing her. Rape, she thought, this is rape! And her body thrilled as she felt hands grabbing her, caressing her roughly. Rape, and someone was pulling her and she looked and it was Mike, his face twisted, standing by the round mattress, his small cock in his hand, his clothes still on.

She slid across the round mattress until her head was clear on the edge and she let it fall so that she saw Mike and the roof of the plane upside down. And then she felt the hands and all the bodies. The legs and, above all, the cocks. The men were 'on her and someone -- it didn't matter who-was fucking her. Hands and lips and tongues and penises were all over her body. driving her toward one orgasm after another and Mike's small cock was before her eyes. She opened her mouth and felt it slide in, hot and hard and she sucked with all her might while her tongue twirled wildly around the tip.

They were a great writhing mass on the bed with Ann sucking Mike's cock while he watched the scene with bugged eyes and his body stiffened and he let out a screeching yell and came in her mouth, shooting frantic streams of hot male fluid which she swallowed and used her tongue to greedily lick for more.

With a final falsetto moan, Mike staggered back and fell to the floor of the plane, spent, watching the orgy on the mattress. To Ann it didn't matter: she was being fucked and sucked and pawed and battered and dragged back on the mattress and Ross was crawling and sticking his big black cock into her eager mouth.

An insane suppleness came over her and she writhed about, nearing an orgasm, knowing that it was only the first in a series of orgasms that she would have here, knowing she was literally being raped and degraded in a way she would never forget. Trudy was lying beside her, on her back, being fucked while Fred sucked on her breasts and the air was hot and sticky with cum and she felt it spilling on her own body and saw it glistening on Trudy, and as Ross pulled. away to fuck Trudy, the two women reached for one another and their mouths locked and they darted their tongues back and forth, each of them cumming, their bodies shuddering and twitching as they were fucked by one cock after another.

Mr. Golgan, yelling, made everyone back off and directed Trudy to get on top of Ann. They lay together, feeling dizzy, engulfed with lust, grinding their cum-drenched vaginas together once again, spreading their legs wide so that Mr. Golgan could get behind them and fuck first one and then the other. Each man, all, except Mike who had retreated to a cushion and sat watching, took turns fucking the two women and, as Ann felt each new cock plunge home, her excitement grew and her body convulsed as she came again, and Trudy, on top of her, threw her head back and wailed her delight at her own orgasm.

The atmosphere in the plane was becoming unbearable with the heat and sex smell mingled with the still heavy odor of marijuana hanging in the air. All of their bodies were glistening with sweat now as Trudy was dragged across the mattress, her face wild and ecstatic with lust as Ross flipped her over on her stomach and proceeded to sodomize her and Ann watched, her lips wet, her mouth open. She had never seen anyone sodomized before and she found it lewd and exciting.

With a great display of strength, Ross rammed his cock home tight into Trudy's cringing anus and rolled her over on top of him so that she sprawled obscenely, her legs apart, her face distorted with pain, her cunt gaping with the black shaft of Ross's. cock buried deep in her anus. Then Fred fell on top of her and Ann watched Trudy grope for his cock and guide the lust-swollen head up into her cunt. Then she watched as the two men fucked Trudy, battering her around, their hands mauling her breasts and she realized how obscene she had looked when that was done to her.

Hands were all over her body and they were forcing her onto her stomach and she sprawled, spreading her legs wide and reaching behind her and cupping the cheeks of her buttocks and spreading them wide while Mr. Golgan was on top of her and she felt the head of his cock pressing hard on her anus and she squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, knowing how much it would hurt, knowing how the soft walls of her rectum would cling to the shaft of his prick and also knowing that, beyond the momentary pain, there lay a lewd paradise where she would have an even more searing orgasm.

A lewd instinct told her to relax and she felt the head plunging home, felt it going deep inside her and felt the pain mount till she thought she couldn't bear it anymore as Mr. Golgan's cock sawed in and out; then she felt herself being lifted and turned and she lay on her back, Mr. Golgan under her, his thick hard penis rammed up her anus and his hands reaching around and roughly massaging her breasts. Over her was the co-pilot now, his long cock hanging menacingly before her. She smiled lewdly at him, reached for his cock and guided it up into her cunt, feeling the two penises moving at once and felt herself cumming again.

It didn't matter. It was a long night and there were plenty of cocks and hands and tongues. They would fuck her into unconsciousness and then take her helpless and limp body and fuck her some more. It would go on forever.

It did go on for longer than any of them expected. In the heat of the sexual madness, none of them realized the plane was in the air -- they were flying back to California. So involved were they in the thralls , of sexual desires that they never felt the vibrations of the shaking walls of the plane or the roar of the engines as they flew through the night, soaring through showers of falling stars and the light of the moon.

Only when the engines cut and time stood still as the jet seemed to stand still in mid-air, did any of the drugged and seething masses of flesh cease their thrashing and moaning.



Chapter 8

Ann and Trudy, now safely back in California, sat cross-legged on the Persian carpet of the Barot's living room, alternately sipping hot mulled wine and passing a joint back and forth, while Dante's uplifted head and flaring nostrils sniffed at the trail of marijuana smoke that circled about his head with aromatic sweetness.

"You have to admit, Ann, Mike does have a sense of humor in his own twisted way."

Ann took a long thoughtful drag off the joint before passing it to Trudy's anxious fingers. "I feel embarrassed somehow, Trudy. I ... I mean it's the first time I've ever ..."

"Hey! Don't worry about it," Trudy said, laying her hand on her friend's arm. "You know, like it's no big deal. I felt pretty strange after my first time, too." Trudy blushed, realizing her admission. "It's like a drug, you know. Each time I say never again, but I'm beginning to realize that it's part of my nature, my very human nature. I'm just ..."

"Just what?" Ann felt nervous now that the subject was out in the open. This was a girl she had lived with, shared a home with for over a year and it was not something to easily come to grips with ... making love to another woman for the first time.

"I'm just sorry that it had to happen under such, such strained circumstances, that's all." Trudy's slender finger traced the pattern of the paisley design of the carpet, ponderously.

"I know." Ann studied the profile of her stewardess friend, her brown curly hair hugging her head in ringlets of golden highlights that shimmered in the rich tones of the setting sun.

"It's just such a common thing among the people I hang out with, you know what I mean?" Trudy lifted her head to see the visible impact of her statement. Ann pulled her loosely hanging hair back with her free hand.

"I can understand that. You have to do something with those feelings. Mike has always been a master at that game. If it hadn't been for him I never would have made love to another woman."

"How come you got mixed up with him again, Ann? I thought you split from him?"

"I did!" Ann said loudly. "I was in the library one day and he found me -- out of nowhere." And Ann went on to explain the strained circumstances under which Mike had ordered her to his house and then turned his men loose on her, how she had actually enjoyed that debasement and how vile and disgusting it made her feel with herself. "After all, Trudy, I love John!" Ann shook her head at her perilous predicament. "Explain that one to me, please!"

"Oh, my God!" Ann's hands raised to her head, cupping her lovely face with the palms of her hands. "I've been so preoccupied with all this traveling around and with this weird situation between us, that I completely forgot: Mike Boston is still in control of me!" Ann groaned in mental anguish. "Trudy, what am I going to tell John? He's going to be back tomorrow and I know he still won't agree to Mike's plan." She shook her head in dismay. "What am I going to do?" she wailed.

"Maybe if we offer to turn some tricks for him, hell leave you alone."

"No, way. I'd only end up in more trouble," moaned Ann.

"I know. He's a sly one. Did I tell you he paid me three thousand dollars to go out and have coffee with him just so he could grill me on where you were?" Trudy poured herself another glass of wine from the quickly disappearing half-gallon of red table wine.

"He what?" Ann couldn't help but laugh.

Dante who had been lying before the fireplace was now nervously and ominously circling his mistress, his eyes leaving her slender form while he whimpered and whined his needs.

"Think he's trying to tell me something?" Ann rose to her feet to let him outside.

"You know what strikes me as really strange about Mike Boston?" said Trudy thoughtfully.

"Yeah? What's that?" Ann called from the kitchen where the back door was allowing a chill draft to waft through the room, the fire suddenly blazing from the input of oxygen.

Trudy stared into the fire. "Have you ever seen him make love, I mean naked?" She put her finger to her lips in a thoughtful pose. "I wonder if he's ever really made love to anyone-I mean other than making them give him head. A good friend of his ... you remember him, the guy I was in bed with that night of the cruise in San Francisco when Mike found you in his bedroom and hauled you off ... well, he was a good friend of Mike's and he said something about him being impotent. Kind of makes me feel sad for him. Must be an awfully lonely way to struggle through life."

"Come to think of it, you're right," said Ann sitting back down and lighting another joint. Then she burst out in gales of laughter. "Don't you realize what he's done? He's making us feel sorry for him!"

Ann sighed deeply then, the reality of the situation hitting her in the face like a cruel blow.

"Look, Ann. I've got to hurry if I'm going to make the night flight. Got to get back to Boston. I'm still living in .that same apartment, would you believe?"

Ann extended her arm and touched Trudy's hand. "Listen." She looked directly into Trudy's deep blue eyes. "If ever you need me for anything, don't hesitate to call. Please? And give no further thought to what happened last night. I enjoyed it."

It was the first time that Ann had actually said she had enjoyed it. Before it was a lustful experience-a predisposition born of drugs and alcohol. But now it was a reality and she felt the burden of guilt lift from her chest and clear her fogged mind.

The two friends hugged tightly. There was a new sensation now, between them. It was not one of lust or physical need, but a close bond of friendship and respect that even Mike Boston could not sour and destroy as he had done to countless others.

"Bye, pal." Trudy pecked Ann on the cheek. "Give me a call and let me know what happens with this quandary of yours. I don't envy you any." And with tears flooding her ocean blue eyes, Trudy walked toward the door and disappeared.

Ann heard the engine of Trudy's rented car rev up and roar away down the mountain road and out of her life. Not forever, she thought hopefully, not forever.

Every bone and muscle in Ann's body ached, screamed for relief. Her vagina and anus were sore and ravished. "And it's not over yet," she sighed and laid prostrate on the Persian carpet before the fireplace, her legs spread-eagled and her arms straight out from her sides. The position was a familiar one, and Ann mused on days of her childhood in Illinois when, after a new snow fall, the children would gather in her yard and lying like this they would wave their arms and legs in wide semi-circles. It was a game they called `angel', and they'd get up and see who had made the biggest impression on the snow. She recalled with nostalgia how cool yet warm the snow felt and how the powdery substance wormed its way up her jacket sleeves, up her snow panted legs, even into her mittens. How wonderful it would be, she thought, if life could be that simple. To make angels and watch the snow fall.

Her reverie was broken by Dante scratching at the back door. "I'm coming, I'm coming," sighed Ann, rising to her feet. That dog needs more attention than my husband!" she cogitated as she opened the back door. "Okay, you mutt," she teased as Dante came bursting through the door, a stick in his tightly clenched teeth. "Get that out of here!" Ann snapped angrily. I wish John showed as much interest, she thought angrily as she plopped down in the swivel rocker.

Laxly she picked up a magazine, the same magazine that she'd been reading when Mike's letter arrived two days ago. She reread her horoscope for Libras. "Some good news, huh?" she laughed at the meaningless words. "I could use a little good news."

She yawned wearily and was considering a good hot bath and shampoo when she realized how late it was. She had four hours of sleep last night and it wasn't nearly enough to satisfy her exhausted body, but feeling the need to remove the stain of last night's ravishment, she ran a steaming bath in their sunken tub and filled it with bubble bath. As was her habit, she locked all the doors -- including the bathroom -- and turned on the Jacuzzi. Its whirling action stimulated her aching body and she lay there for countless minutes, aware of nothing.

Her body and soul now greeted each other for the first time since Mike Boston had entered her life. She slipped on her blue plaid housecoat, not bothering to slip on her nightgown and threw a towel over her dripping wet hair.

From the dressing room she grabbed a hairbrush and headed for the living room.

She was greeted by a room full of sweet smelling flowers! Bouquets of red roses, of yellow roses and white roses. Arrangements of daisies, daffodils -- her favorite -- and iris. Peonies and violets. And in the center of them all stood John, cutting a handsome figure as he stood there erectly, his feet spread wide, glancing straight ahead with his pilot's hat in his dangling hands that crossed in the front. He looked like an Air Force photograph -- a conquering hero from a 1946 war movie. Ann ran to her husband and threw her arms around his neck, her wet hair dripping on his shirt.

"Oh, baby! What a surprise!" Mike Boston was now light years away.

"And I have a surprise for you, my dear." He unclasped her arms from around his neck and carried her to the bedroom where he set her down on the brass bed. "How would you like to move to Hawaii?"

"What?"

"Just got an offer. I've been thinking about what you said about spending so much time, alone and paying for this house and somehow it just didn't make any sense."

"Tell met Tell me more!" Ann jumped up and down on the bed girlishly.

"A friend of mine -- another pilot -- who owns land in Hawaii-beach front property incidentally, has been after me to go into business with him since he already has a plane. We're going to set up our own charter business and fly tourists from island to island."

Ann was beside herself.- "Oh, baby! I'm so happy."

"We can still rent out this house and keep it if you'd like. Anything you want! The world is at your feet, my lovely lady."

They made love passionately, sweetly, tenderly, and lovingly. And not until Ann Barot woke up the next day did she realize that Mike Boston no longer had a hold on her life. She and John would be flying to Hawaii the next day -- the last day of Mike's threatening power -- early in the morning. Mike Boston would be calling on an empty house. Once more the world was rich and full of promise. Her promise.