"The Violated Virgin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fulton Ward)

Chapter 5

The early morning light filtered through the drapes, and in the street the first sounds of activity could be heard. A friendly shout between two men echoed up to the room, and Suzanne stirred, opened her eyes and looked about. At first she felt a stab of uncertainty, then she realized where she was. Then she remembered what had happened the night before, and her face went scarlet. She looked over her shoulder and saw Yvonne and Carole, still asleep, their arms about each other, a look of beatific contentment on their faces. Oh, God, what have I done, she thought. How could I possibly have joined them in that orgy of sensual delight? Suzanne shivered and pulled the sheet up to her neck. Ah, but it was wonderful, wasn't it? It was the best sex ever. But what about the boys?

She shivered again, remembering the harshness of the boys' words, actions and manner; yet there was something primitive and appealing about it. God, she didn't want to go through that again, but she did feel that she wouldn't mind having sex again with a man. After all, that wonderful piece of meat, that lovely long lance that could pleasure her vagina with such ecstasy. Oh, yes, she wanted that again.

She wondered who it would be with; she hoped it would be Sam, because she knew Sam's penis was large and long. She had not touched it, but she had seen it, sticking up out of his pants that night on Belle Isle.

Oh, why didn't she give in and take it then? Sam might not have gone off to Europe. They might even have been married by now. She knew she loved him, and he loved her, so why didn't she? She wanted to; remembering back, she knew she did want to feel it, to take it between her lips and suck it till his sperm shot out in great gobs into her mouth, coating her tongue with delicious saltiness before being swallowed and becoming a part of her. Oh, yes, she had wanted him that night; she had wanted him many nights, but she could never bring herself to go through with it. She always remembered those moments when her mother had said to her, "Suzanne, remember, nice girls don't. Only cheap little tramps will indulge before marriage." And she had wanted to ask her mother then whether she hadn't made it with a boy before she married.

But there was something about Mrs. Delacorte that made Suzanne afraid of asking anything so intimate. Her mother was very prone to discussing the intimacies of Grosse Pointe gossip, but something as personal as sex was taboo. There had been several times when her father had brought up the subject, often in a joke, and Suzanne felt a warmth; but inevitably her mother would freeze them both with a cutting remark and comments about "not being coarse."

Now that she had finally experienced sex, an overwhelming orgy of sensation, she wondered why and how the whole aura of dirt and revulsion became attached to the subject. After all, it was a most enjoyable experience; at least, despite the horror of the attack by the boys, she knew that the ultimate penetration and orgasm was something undeniably pleasurable. And with someone tender and loving, as Yvonne and Carole had been the night before, it was the greatest release, the highest expression of emotion. Yet why, then, did she still feel such pangs of remorse, such a feeling of guilt and self-recrimination?

Suzanne looked over towards the two sleeping girls and wondered whether they felt the same ugly gnawing in their stomachs after indulging in relations? Obviously not, if they had been living together as lovers.

Yet how could Yvonne also have sex with men? Suzanne had read a marginal amount of literature on the subject, but she was aware of Freud's bisexual theories, which must have some basis of fact, judging from her own reaction the night before and her active participation in sexplay.

But still, she couldn't help wondering how she was ever able to indulge with the girls, not merely the act itself but so soon after the traumatic experience with the boys. It must have been Yvonne's tender massage of her breasts and her vagina, she knew that was it. Any girl would react to such a stimulus; yet she knew deep within her that it was more than that. It were as though a demon had been loosed in her loins. Held back for so long, she finally felt her inhibitions falling away. She wanted to indulge, she wanted to enjoy the delights of sex, to throw herself with complete abandon into the most perverse practices she could imagine, provided they were pleasant and didn't hurt anyone and, most of all, there was no violence except in the intensity of the sexual feeling that quivered in her.

With a sigh, Suzanne pressed her hand to her forehead to ease the ache that had just begun. There was a movement on the bed and she heard a low moan.

"Oh, God, it's morning," said Yvonne, her voice sounding like the rumble of the trucks up and down Woodward Avenue.

"Hi," said Suzanne.

Yvonne reached out a thin arm for the cigarettes on the night stand.

She shook one out of the package and clicked the lighter, inhaling deeply and leaning back, holding Carole's still sleeping body in one arm.

"Oh, that's better." Yvonne managed a grin and tapped Suzanne's shoulder with her forefinger, still holding the cigarette in her hand.

"How's our little violated virgin this morning?"

"Okay, I think."

"That doesn't sound very convincing."

Suzanne shifted in the bed. "Oh, I've just been lying here thinking."

Yvonne heaved under a sudden attack of coughing.

"That can be dangerous, especially at this hour. I guess you've got all sorts of guilty feelings running around that head of yours, huh?"

Suzanne nodded. "I'm… a little confused."

"Aren't we all? Let me tell you something." Yvonne took another deep drag from the cigarette and exhaled slowly. "I won't hand out advice, but I'll make a few comments. You've gone through a lot in the past two days. I mean, with sex. I know what happened with those little bastards must've shaken you to the bottom of your carnal cavern, and last night, well…" Yvonne laughed softly. "That's another bag of beans entirely.

But am I right in saying that you've had more sex the last two days than you've ever had before?"

Suzanne nodded. "I've never had sex before. Ever. Not with anyone. But … but I've often wanted to."

"Why didn't you? I thought you and Sam were pretty thick there for a while."

"Well, mother's always told me it wasn't right. I mean, not until after you're married."

Yvonne snorted loudly. "Yeah, I get the picture."

"I wanted to, but I just couldn't. There was one night, no, there were lots of nights when we almost did, but right at the last minute I'd hear mother's voice and I lost interest."

Yvonne nodded. "It sounds like lots of mothers I know. They may have screwed their asses off when they were teenagers, but they don't want their daughters to do it. Some sort of moral retribution or whatever.

Hell, I'm disgusted with people like that. Including your mother. I feel it's better to be open about things than brainwash someone until they're so full of guilt and misery that they never can enjoy sex, even after they're married. I know lots of couples like that. I mean, married, but still have a hang-up which stems from an overly strict upbringing. Maybe that's why I'm so free about things."

Suzanne frowned and stared at her friend for a moment.

"But how… I mean, I don't understand how you can say you and Carole are lovers, and yet you can still go with men. You said last night you do."

Yvonne nodded. "Yes, I do, sometimes. Like Jeff. I've shacked up with him a couple of times, but then he's one of the few men in my life that really turns me on. I mean, he's without a doubt the sexiest guy on campus. You've got to admit that. And what he does in bed is a whole chapter out of my diary. Oh, wow, that guy is something else again.

He's got a body that won't quit and a cock that should become a national monument one of these days. Not that I'm hung up on big cocks, mind you," Yvonne added hastily. "But Jeff's is about the most beautiful piece of meat I've ever seen on any man, bar none."

Suzanne giggled. "Is it as big as they say it is?"

Yvonne reached for the ashtray and mashed her cigarette, erupting with a deep laugh at the same time.

"So you're curious as well? I noticed the way you were watching him in Verne's the other day. I guess every chick at Wayne would like to know.

Well, I'll tell you, my former vestal virgin. Jeff's cock is long. It's also rather thick. It has enough foreskin over the end to make drapes for this entire apartment. His balls could double on the pool table, and when that whole gorgeous area stands up to attention, I feel like a dog beside a fireplug; I just want to lift my legs and wrap myself around it. He really is quite incredible."

Suzanne nodded. "That colored guy Clayton is big."

"They say all colored studs are bigger'n white guys, but let me assure you, Jeff'd give the whole goddamn NAACP a run for its money. Also, I guess for me the most important thing about that adorable man's penis is the fact that it's very white, very smooth. No big veins like some.

Just one big white lollipop waiting to be licked." Yvonne shifted in the bed and laughed again. "Jeez, I'd better stop this. I'm getting horny just thinking about him."

Suzanne laughed. "I've often wanted to know Jeff better. I've only said hello a couple of times. But I know he lays just about any girl he can, and I felt it wasn't any use, you know trying to know him, because I wouldn't go to bed with him."

"But that was before, dear," said Yvonne crisply. "And now? Would you now?"

Suzanne nodded slowly. "Maybe I would. I don't know for sure. I still love Sam, and he's the one I really want."

Yvonne smiled. "Well, let me tell you something else, then. I love Carole. She's everything to me. But we've been together long enough to know that love is based on more than just sex. Which is why I'm able to shack up with some guy, or like last night, we're both able to have a little orgy with some other girl, and not let this get in the way of our feelings for each other. Sex is sex. To me, and to Carole, it's part of the scene, but not the most important. We can take it or leave it. We always take it, though, I assure you. And I've always believed in not having sex with someone just because you might feel like it at the time. Like with you, I've wanted to ball you ever since we met. But I got to know you, and I knew there'd be a right time. It's like every person: there's a right time, a right place, a right individual, and then everything fits. Everything comes out right, like last night. You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

Suzanne nodded. "Of course I did. You know that."

"Sure. And maybe we'll ball again. Who knows? And don't you go getting any romantic notions about me or Carole just because we had a little pussy for late supper. It was something that was fun; it happened and it's over."

"You sound so sensible about things," said Suzanne. "I wish I were. I'm still kinda confused, because…" She hesitated. "You see, the way I suddenly became so sexy last night, it sorta scares me, looking back on it. I mean, now I feel I've done something very wrong. When the boys attacked me, that was different. They forced me. But last night, I did it because I wanted to. You understand? I really wanted to do everything we did, and even while I was doing it, I felt it was wrong, but I didn't care. Something stronger made me do it. And it was wonderful. But now I'm wondering: how about what I really feel? Do I want men? Do I want women? Oh, Yvonne, I feel so terrible."

"Yes, yes, yes." Yvonne reached over and patted Suzanne on the shoulder. "You're only going through a delayed adolescence. Hell, you should have been behaving like this five years ago, but then you've got that mother of yours to thank for that. She should join Billy Graham instead of organizing tea parties for the Grosse Pointe Ladies' Club.

Anyway, try not to feel guilty. Would you believe lots of girls, and men, too, will mess around like we did. It doesn't mean you're a dyke.

It just means you let go because you'd been primed right. Jeff even told me once that he'd had a wild evening with some guys over on Forest Avenue at some house there. You know that big three-story one near Lincoln? They call it Homosexual Haven because of all the queens living there. Well, Jeff says he kinda hung one on over there, but that doesn't mean he's giving up girls. And what we did last night doesn't mean you're giving up boys. I'll bet the minute Sam gets back into town, you'll be rolling into bed with him so fast it'll make your boobs turn to jelly."

Suzanne laughed. "Yeah, maybe so. Oh, Yvonne, you're so wonderful. I wish I'd gone to bed with you a year ago. Maybe I wouldn't be so screwed up right now."

Yvonne pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "I wish we had, too, but then, like I said, these things always happen at the right time.

Seriously, baby, you do have a problem with those little finks up the street."

Suzanne felt a stab of terror as the memory returned, and her pleasant talk with Yvonne suddenly disappeared in a sea of apprehension.

"Oh, dear, I'd almost forgotten."

Yvonne laughed grimly. "Well, let me tell you, they'll probably be back. They know you're scared out of your wits, and the fact that they've laid you already only means they think they can do it again. So remember, don't open your door under any circumstances until you know who it is. And if for any reason they do get in, scream bloody murder."

"I've been thinking maybe I should move."

"No, that's only running away. It'll have to get pretty hairy before I'd advise that."

Suzanne pondered a moment. "You know, the sad thing about it is I didn't think Donald was like that. In fact, I believe he'd be all right if it weren't for his brother and his influence. Ted's the bad one in that family. But Donald is a nice boy at heart."

"Nice? He fucked you, too, didn't he?"

"Yes, but… well, okay, so they all did, and it was pretty horrible, but at least I noted a different feeling with Donald. I mean, he's younger. He's got some tenderness in him."

"You mean he had his tenderness in you, don't you?"

"No, come off it. I mean, he's a good kid at heart, but he's been led astray. That's what I want to find out about this neighborhood, about the people who live here. Is it because they're bad themselves, which I don't believe, or is it the poverty, the misery they live in which makes them that way?"

Yvonne sighed. "Listen, Miss Goodbody, you can't change the world.

You've got to take it as it is. And those characters are all the same.

They start fucking at six and they'd do it if they lived in Grosse Pointe or the Appalachians, where most of them come from, anyway. No, dear, there's some who just don't have the inborn reserve about sex that we expect. So don't waste your time with them. If you want to see them again, of course, that's a different matter." She giggled. "Maybe they're good sex. Were they? I mean, how big were their cocks?"

Suzanne flushed. "Stop it."

"No, I won't. Tell me. I mean, I know you don't have much basis for comparison, but you can tell, can't you? Like this Donald that you seem to be in a tizzy about. Was he as big as his brother, or the colored boy?"

"No, he wasn't, but he was big, I'm sure, for his age. Ted was bigger, and Clayton was really big, and real thick, too."

Yvonne laughed. "Like the three bears, huh? Momma, poppa and baby bear.

Let me ask you something. Suppose they came back, no threats, no violence, but real nice, calm, reserved, and said how about it? Would you go to bed with any of them again from choice?"

Suzanne flushed. "I don't ever want to see any of them again," she said.

"You don't sound very positive about that."

"Well, maybe Donald."

Yvonne's laugh caused Carole's eyes to open, and she murmured, "Shut your hole, godammit, I'm trying to sleep." Suzanne smiled selfconsciously.

"He is kinda sweet," she murmured. "I like him, too."

"You mean you like him because he's young, sexy, well-built, and has a big cock. Oh, dear, how typical can we get?"

Yvonne reached for another cigarette, and inhaled deeply.

"I'm willing to bet you do have sex with him again. Maybe with all three."

"No, never."

"Okay, okay, I was only kidding you. After all, dear, I know you're still pretty shook up over what happened, and there's no use sitting around moping about it. So I find it's often better to make a joke of things."

"Well, that's no joke, believe me."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

Suzanne paused a moment, then giggled wickedly.

"But if Donald comes back alone, and is nice to me, well, who knows?"

"Oh, you little bitch!"

They both broke into loud laughter, and Carole raised up and glared at them.

"Son-of-a-bitch," she muttered. "Fuck all night and talk all day. Never a peaceful moment around here, that's for sure." She leaned over and kissed Yvonne lightly. "Good morning, love," she said warmly.

Suzanne stared at the two girls, and for a moment envied their obvious closeness, their rapport, the feeling that they shared.

"Good morning, Suzanne," said Carole, putting her hand over and squeezing her softly. "You okay today?"

Suzanne nodded. Carole swung her legs out of the bed, stood up and stretched, yawning loudly. "I'll go put the coffee on," she said, moving towards the kitchen.

Yvonne winked at Suzanne. "Just like a good little wife," she said coyly. "Come back here for a quickie, Carole."

"Fuck you," came the voice from the kitchen, quite pleasantly.

Yvonne laughed. "You know what a dyke with a hard-on looks like?"

Suzanne shook her head, and Yvonne stuck her tongue out and held it there, projecting stiffly from her lips. Suzanne laughed, and Carole put her head round the door.

"That broad's always got a hard-on," she commented.

"With you around, can you blame me?" replied Yvonne casually, slipping out of bed and reaching for her robe. "Well, I'm going to take a healthy crap, if you'll excuse my French."

She disappeared into the bathroom, and Suzanne lay back, staring across the room, and thinking how wonderful it would be to have a close friend to live with; maybe not for sex, but just for company. She envied Yvonne and Carole; their life together seemed so secure, so fulfilling.

With a sigh, she sat up on the edge of the bed, put on her robe, and walked into the kitchen and sat down. Already the percolator had begun filling the air with a pungent aroma. She felt refreshed and cheerful.

"I have a class at nine," she remarked, looking at the clock, which pointed to seven-fifteen.

"You mean you want to bug out?" asked Carole, busily washing dishes at the sink.

"No, I'll have some coffee, and then I'd better get back to my place and clean up."

"Okay. You can eat here if you like. We've got plenty."

Suzanne shook her head. "No, I'm not hungry. Some coffee'll be fine, though, thanks."

She stared at the other girl, standing naked at the sink, and admired her figure, so slender, yet with such full breasts and wide hips, immeasurably feminine. There was no trace of embarrassment in her manner; it seemed so natural for her to be without clothes. In the back of her mind, Suzanne heard her mother's voice, echoing back from years before… "A lady never goes around naked. Even your father's never seen me without something on. I believe in modesty, like every selfrespecting woman."

She smiled to herself. If only her mother could see her now, she thought.

The front door closed behind her, and Suzanne locked it with a sigh of relief. Even though she knew it would be too early for any young man to have rape on his mind, she was taking no chances. She had had Yvonne scout the stairway before she left the apartment for her own, and once inside, the warm comforting glow she experienced with her friends began to disappear. She was once more alone; once more vulnerable.

Stop it, she whispered to herself, walking into the bathroom and turning on the hot water faucets in the tub, there's no sense being ridiculous about it. The door's locked. You're safe. Maybe safe from physical harm for the moment, but what about her own fears? What about her own desires? Would she ever be safe from those?

Impatiently Suzanne hung up her robe behind the bathroom door and reached for her toothbrush. Energetically she attacked her teeth, scrubbing harder than usual, as if through the act she would help chase the feeling gnawing at her stomach, aching in her loins. Yes, she couldn't deny it, coupled with the fright was the deep desire for something to happen again, something that would help mature her burgeoning sexuality, help make it blossom to its fullest so she could no longer think of herself as a girl but as a woman, filled with all the passionate responses a woman should have, able to handle any situation where a man (or a woman) was concerned. Yes, it wasn't just sex with men now; it was sex, plain and not so simple. It was the tiger let loose in the jungle of her pubic hair.

She turned off the water and eased herself into the tub, letting her body slide beneath the warm water, savoring the sensual pleasure of the splashing against her skin, vitalizing her vagina again with erotic desire and bringing her breasts once more to erection. It was true; as her fingers rubbed over her magnificent orbs, she felt the nipples firm beneath her touch. Jeez, had she turned into a raving sex maniac?

She closed her eyes, and with the soap in one hand she slicked her other and rubbed herself, carefully, sensually. Her fingers massaged her breasts and nipples, and her mind fled back to Yvonne's soft caresses the night before. Mentally she felt Yvonne's fingers on her body, Yvonne's softness exciting her to a fever pitch of desire. Her groin tingled with the rising tide of sexual arousal, and slowly she let her fingers slide down, across her stomach, and come to rest in her bush, pushing her labia open and reaching their final goal.

She felt the electric thrill as her finger touched her clitoris, already hard and throbbing. She gripped it, caressed it, rubbed the shaft, pinched it, and her hips began undulating gently. In her mind she remembered Carole's tongue paying homage to her pussy, bringing her even greater delights than the hard prick which had cruelly defiled her earlier. But had it been that cruel? Had Donald really hurt her that much? He may have scared her, being stronger and holding her down, but once he had slipped that lovely long cock into her eager pulsating pussy, had it been that bad? She had to admit honestly it hadn't; she had loved it. She relished the thought of it cramming deep into her depths, its thickness pushing aside her cunt-lips, probing her vagina and sending shivers of excitement up to the mouth of her womb. Deeper … deeper, Donald… let me have it all, let me have that rod, all the way.

Suzanne's fingers were pushing in and out of her wet, warm cavern, the tantalizing sensations only made greater by the warm water lapping around her body, licking at her breasts as they almost floated on top of the surface. Her hips were moving quicker and quicker, making waves that only stimulated every inch of her skin, making her wish Donald were there, his tongue licking her all over. Not only Donald, but Ted and Clayton, all three of them, their hands, tongues and cocks all dragging over her, pushing into every crevice, bringing her the greatest delight she was capable of experiencing. Yes, yes, all of them; all those three wonderful cocks, all together, all pushing into her. Yes, two cocks up her twat, the third up her asshole. She was being fucked by them all at the same time. She slid one hand between her buttocks and pushed a finger into her anus. Oh, Jeez, she couldn't stand it. The sensations were mounting. Her asshole was on fire. Her twat was oozing her juices. Her breasts were going to explode. Higher and higher… quicker and quicker… rub that clitoris, up and down, pinch it, squeeze it… fuck me, fuck me… Donald… deeper. Ted, quicker. Clayton, give that lovely big black piece of meat to me. All of it, plunging deep into me. Oh, yes, yes…

With a strangled cry, Suzanne's body heaved, sending large splashes of water up the sides of the tub, spilling over onto the floor as she convulsed and felt her orgasm mounting, shaking her entire body, and from her mouth came little animal moans of ecstasy.

Slowly the feeling receded, and she lay still, her fingers still manipulating her flesh slowly, gently as the waves of emotion receded, becoming still as the waves in the bathtub. She opened her eyes and stared down at herself. Oh, Christ, that was wonderful. It wasn't just the physical orgasm; it was the thought that perhaps it might have been those boys again. Yes, again, again. She wanted then again, loathful, hateful, hurting; but she wanted them. Oh, God, what was she going to do? What would she do when they came knocking at her door again, and something told her they were coming. They would be there, all three of them, panting, with enormous hard-ons sticking out of their pants, those lovely shafts of gleaming meat, two white, one black, each throbbing with anticipation, eager to sink into her unresisting body.

Biting her lip, Suzanne climbed out of the tub and reached for a towel.

As she stood in front of the mirror, she stared at herself, filled with loathing that she had allowed herself to be so carried away. What was happening to her? Did all girls go through this when they first found out about sex? She looked at her body. It was the same as it had been a week before. There was no difference. Her eyes lifted, taking in her crotch, her breasts, and then she looked at her face, at the smooth round cheeks, the slightly upturned nose, the wide, sensual mouth, and her eyes, staring back at her with a new expression, a new awareness of her womanhood. And in that glance, she knew she had forever lost her innocence; her childhood lay buried under a sea of come that spurted out of a large, jerking penis while she stood beside it, hugging it with her arms, crying because it was too big to take, and all she could do was hug it and cry, "Fuck me, fuck me!"

With a shudder, Suzanne walked into the living room and over to the closet. As she slowly got dressed, she knew it was going to be a difficult day, yet ten minutes later, as she bounced gaily down the stairs and out into the sunshine, she smiled to herself and hummed a tune. Come on, things weren't so bad, really; and what was so wrong about letting oneself go?

"Hi, Suzanne, how are you today?"

It was her slovenly landlady, calling out from the door of her apartment.

"Fine, thanks, and you?"

"Oh, I'm okay. Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Sure is."

She ran out the building and up the sidewalk, suddenly realizing she only had seven minutes to make her class.