"Naughty aunt Susan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Ron)

CHAPTER SIX

True to prediction, I awoke early next morning with an aching pussy. It was like an open wound between my legs and I had to massage it with both hands before I could even stand to get out of bed.

Aunt Susan was the slug – a-bed today, though, and I felt smug and happy when she entered the kitchen to find me already at work on breakfast. "The day's half-over," I told her in a country drawl. It was precisely nine o'clock.

We shared a leisurely meal – it was after ten before we finally rinsed our coffee cups and cleaned up the few dishes we'd dirtied. Aunt Sue went into her office to get a bit of work done, but only a bit. She was driving into Athens for a visit to the library again today, and this time I didn't turn down her invitation. I'd been out here since Saturday afternoon and already I was going stir-crazy. I needed life and people.

There wasn't much life on campus during the second summer term, and Aunt Sue had no trouble finding a good parking place for her car. We went into the library, and I excused myself as soon as we were inside, to visit the ladies'. Aunt Sue showed me where it was and pointed to the elevator. "I'll be on 7," she said.

I went to 7 and trotted through the stacks in search of her. She was between two large book stacks talking to a man. Lee Kinloch, of course. I went in to join them, my footfalls silenced by the floor carpeting, and neither of them knew I was there till I put my arm around Lee's shoulder and leaned in to say, "Hi, Aunt Sue. You're hard to find."

Putting my arm around Lee was an automatic, unthought gesture. He blocked my way in, and I had to lean past him to get Aunt Sue's attention, and I'm a very physical person, besides, I like to touch and be touched.

Lee's head turned at my laying-on of hand, and he smiled in greeting. So did Aunt Sue, but her face was brick-red and I couldn't believe tne ferocious gleam in her hazel eyes. Didn't she even know that she was giving me a hate-filled stare? Her voice was no traitor. It was calm and evenly modulated.

She was jealous! It struck me at once. Aunt Sue couldn't bear the sight of me touching her friend, even in so innocent a fashion. That confirmed my suspicions. She was hung on him, and with about as much chance of getting him as Nixon has for a comeback. Well, fuck her! I had my eye on Lee, too, remember, and if I couldn't get him, he couldn't be gotten. I didn't create her plain and dowdy and backward with men.

But I took my hand away all the same, as Lee stood aside to let me join them. They were talking about books and authors – why didn't she ever try to bring the subject around to dripping pussies, her own in particular? Or maybe Aunt Sue was so dried up her pussy didn't even drip these days.

"Look," I said, "how would it be if I took a walk? I saw a couple of boutiques and shops that looked interesting."

"Oh, fine," Aunt Sue replied, with eyes only for Lee, who had his eyes on me. "That would be a good idea. I'll probably be here for a couple of hours."

"Okay," I grinned. "Catch you later."

Mostly I wandered around trying on clothes. Mama had given me a couple of hundred for expenses and trivia during the month I'd be here, and it was burning a hole in my purse. But today was just for looking. I went to several little boutiques and tried on a few items, but ended up empty-handed.

Finally I went back to the library but I didn't feel like going inside. It was a lovely late July day, warm and sunny, and the sun bathed the library steps. I stretched out on the stone banister, which was just made for lying on, and I wished I could strip off my clothes and let all of me enjoy the sun.

Not too far away the noon carillon was ringing in the campus belltower. Carillons are sweet music even when played slightly out of tune, as this was being played, and I closed my eyes appreciatively.

I didn't open them till someone tapped on my forehead and I looked up to see a guy. He was standing on the ground beside the banister, and he was built like a basketball player, very tall, very lean, cute in a jock way.

"Uh," he said, "is this the library?"

"Don't you know?" I asked. He was wearing an Ohio University T-shirt and he had some textbooks under his arm.

"Unh-unh," he grinned. "I've been here three years and this is the first time I've ever had to."

"Too bad," I consoled. "One more year and you could have tried for a record of some kind."

He smiled in agreement. "Life gets tasteless, don't it?"

He planted himself on the steps beside me and we began to talk. Obviously he didn't care if he never got to the library. His name was Alan Burke, and he was indeed a basketball player. Not All-American, or whatever basketball players get to be, but pretty good. At least, that's what he told me.

We were still talking when Aunt Sue and Lee Kinloch came out of the library and down the stairs. "Oh, hi," I told them. "Are you ready to go, Aunt Sue?" She nodded.

"You don't have to run off, do you?" Alan wondered. "I mean, I'd hate to lose you now. Would your aunt mind if you hung around a little while? I could take you home."

"Go ahead, if you want to," Aunt Sue said considerately. "You remember how to get back to Sugar Creek, don't you, Pam?" I was pretty sure I did, and so she and Lee went on. I was sorry to see them go, especially him. I'd been hoping I might have a chance to work my wiles on him – maybe even today – and this Alan character just wasn't in Lee's league.

But Alan was pleasant, and aggressive, too, and when he suggested a guided tour of the campus, I shrugged and went along. His tastes inclined to the more secluded areas, I was quick to learn. We went down a hillside, passing between two fraternity houses, and he led me across the dried-up bed of the Hocking River.

Alan led me up the bank and he pointed out the squirrels which scampered boldly everywhere. They were, he said, descended from the squirrels of Harvard Common. The founders of Ohio University were all Harvard men, and one of them went east to get shrub cuttings and fauna from Harvard Yard to add the homey touch to the new school's grounds.

That was a nice story, and Alan elaborated on it as we walked. Almost before I knew it we were deeply surrounded by trees and it was shady and cool and a squirrel was chattering on a limb overhead when Alan took me in his arms and pulled me tight for some kissing.

He was over a foot taller than I was, even with my three-inch heels on, and I stood on tiptoes until his hands clamped onto the cheeks of my butt. He lifted me up then, and I locked my legs around his calves as we rocked and kissed together.

My tits ground into his chest and my crotch was upon his. I could feel the presence of a cock inside his pants, a sizable cock indeed, growing more sizable by the minute. I pushed it with my cunt-mound, feeling it grow stiffer, firmer, and I should have been excited. But I wasn't.

His kissing was okay, I suppose, with plenty of tongue and lip action, and he was taking my breath away with it. His hands were big and hard and strong on my butt, and his body supported mine with no discernible effort. Alan was in good shape. So maybe it was me. Maybe I was just tired of it all.

He took a firmer handhold on my butt and his fingers began to dig into my skin through the velvety yellow layer of shorts and the panties underneath. Two of his fingers tickled the leg opening and started to wiggle inside, their obvious goal my covered pussy. I squirmed uncomfortably in Alan's grasp and loosened my legs from his.

"Unh-unh," I said, taking my mouth away from his and trying to step once more to the ground.

"Uh-huh," he grinned, holding me tightly with my legs kicking in air, and he crushed his mouth down upon mine.

I got my hand against his chest and tried to push myself away from him. Stop it! My body was telling him, but his body was having none of it.

Finally Alan let me sink to my heels on the soft grass. I backed away from him but he followed, and before I knew it I was really backed – against a tree with him pressing me from the front, trapping me where I stood. When he took my chin in hand and lifted my face to aware himself another kiss, I bit his lip.

His head snapped back and he rubbed the wound with his finger. "You're too fast," I said. "Give a girl a chance, will you!"

His answer was to pull open the tie of my halter and cover my bared tits with his big strong hands. He squeezed and caressed, manipulating me roughly while I warbled in protest. I tried to shove him away, but my feminine resistance was a joke in contrast to the power of his body.

"Leggo, damn it!" I was angry, breathing hard, and my tits swelled up big and full as they rose and fell. Alan's eyes grew dreamy looking into mine as he cradled my boobs in his palms. He leaned his groin against me and I felt his cock, even harder than it was before.

"Let's fuck now," he suggested. "I have to be at the gym by two-thirty for a workout."

"Get away," I replied, jiggling in his grasp. "I don't want to fuck." I didn't. He was too crude, too aggressive, took too much for granted. So what if he was cute, with an obvious hard-on? He was still a boy, and I'd had my fill of boys.

Alan let me feel the hot throb of his boner then, grinding his body on mine. "Tell him," he suggested, eyes flashing down to his cock for a second. "Tell him you don't want to fuck."

He pulled me to the ground with him, and still I was leaned against the bole of the tree with Alan pinning me from the front. One of his hands cruised back and forth between my freed tits while the other cupped the crotchstrip of my panties and the warm plump bulge lurking inside. He squeezed firmly and I felt my cunt almost thrusting itself more enthusiastically into his grip. Ouch! I was still sore from last night, even if my puss seemed to have a slutty little mind of its own!

"Nice," he complimented rue between sucker bites on my neck. "Hurry up and get undressed. I have a foot of pounding meat that has to get buried, and your little hole is just the place."

What a line! Universities spoil athletic stars, you know. They give them cash, a car, fancy apartments, all the pussy they can eat or screw – anything to keep a winning team. And Alan Burke was spoiled rotten. I'd gone for a walk with him, I'd let him kiss me – therefore, my twat was pouting for his prick. Jocks don't do much for me. They're usually so in love with their own beautiful bodies that they don't have any thought to spare for other beautiful bodies – like mine. All they want is a tight hole to puddle in.

Alan got his knee between my legs and it replaced his hand in rubbing my pussy. His thighs were long and hard, well-muscled, and one of them was wedged tightly against my box. God, when he slid it up and down! I couldn't believe I'd been slut enough to fuck myself with a bottle last night, but my aching gash reminded me vividly, and I moaned in discomfort as he grew more aggressive.

"We better hurry," he suggested, tugging my halter off my resisting shoulders. I twitched in refusal, but he got his mouth onto my nearest nipple and he started chewing and sucking. It was a rude, no-class type of assault but I felt my nipple stiffening under his attack.

"Ohhh," I wailed, hoping I wasn't weakening.

He fumbled with the button of my shorts, pulled down the zipper, and dragged the yellow pants to my knees. "Hey," I told his head as it nursed my right tit, "I have an idea. Why don't you let me give you a nice hand-job? I have magic fingers, you know. Zippety-zap, and – voila!"

"I wanna fuck," he mumbled with his tongue wrapped around my nipple. He crooked his fingers inside the waistband of my bikinis and tugged them down to the tops of my thighs. I felt a rustle of breeze in my beaver.

"I don't feel like it," I said glumly.

He raised his face and stared up into mine. "I feel like it, and if I feel like it, then you feel like it. Got that?"

He was smug and arrogant as he eyed me, and then he shifted his gaze down to my cunt.

"Holy fucking shit!" he spat, seeing the string of my tampon white and twined among the curly red hairs. "Why didn't you tell me you were on the Goddamned rag?" He caught the string and gave it a vicious yank that dragged the tampon out of my hole and made my slightly raw cunt-lips wince in pain.

He stared at the red-smeared barrel, then tossed the sanitary object into the bushes. "Come on," he said, "get those legs apart. I got a hard-on that won't quit!"

"Is that all that matters?" I asked. "Your lousy hard-on?" He didn't answer. He just got up and undid his pants. In a moment his hard-on was exposed before me.

He was right. That cock of his didn't look as if it knew the meaning of "quit". It was big and long and thick as a spray can of deodorant. Beneath it dangled a big sac of balls, and dark curling hairs grew all around the base in tangled profusion. It was a wicked-looking cock. He could have used it for a baseball bat, and I grew suddenly afraid as I thought of how it would feel, shoved into my cunt.

The tip was enormous, red as the end of a kitchen match, and Alan lunged towards me with it. He slapped me in the face with his prick, and his voice had a sharp tone. "Suck it first," he commanded. "I like to be sucked before I use my lousy hard-on in a lousy little cunt."

He kept banging his knob on my lips and I didn't have much choice. Opening my mouth, I sucked his rod inside.

My tongue glided and rolled as his cock rampaged in me. My lips were stretched to their fullest and still they seemed inadequate to accept his bulky tool. Suction was almost out of the question, but I tried. Maybe if I sucked his cock nicely, passionately, he might decide to let it go at this.

He seemed to appreciate the little I could do. He grabbed my head with one big hand – I suppose my head was smaller than a basketball, and consequently an easy mark for his fist – and he maneuvered me into place so he could fuck my mouth.

Well, if that would satisfy him! I stopped moving my head and tried to make my lips a soothing glove for his cock as he worked in and out. But Alan must have seen Deep Throat too many times. He fucked my face as if I were Linda Lovelace or some other cinematic champion cock-sucker, and I had to gurgle and gasp in protest when it seemed he was trying to raw my throat in the fury of his onset.

"More tongue!" he called, and it was hard to use my tongue at all, the way his prick was inserted, but I did all I could. I licked his rod as he thrust it back and forth, and I tried not to gag when his knob invaded the farthest reaches of my throat.

Alan pushed harder and harder, till the back of my head was square against the tree trunk and I could evade him no more. He moved, too, coming against me hard, and the tab of his undone zipper scraped my neck just beneath the chin when his cock was fully imbedded in me.

There was a moistness in my cunt – slowly oozing menses, most of it, but a drippy, watery lubrication was there, too, the kind I always get when I have a big, hard cock in my mouth. So maybe he didn't turn me off as much as I thought. Or maybe I had the intentions of a good girl and the body reactions of a grade-A slut.

Alan put his hand in my crotch, touching the damp slit, and his middle finger suddenly pushed into my hole. I moaned and yipped around his big dick as he worked that finger in my cunt. Yes, my pussy was sore, sore as a boil, but when he twisted this way and that, when he made a slow, dragging retreat only to plunge his digit all the way up my hole with a stabbing plunge – well! The soreness became something altogether different, something approaching ecstasy.

But his finger was only a bit smaller than the wine bottle I'd fucked myself with. He spread my cunt, he reamed it, but he didn't stretch me unbearably. I didn't think I could take his cock, on the other hand. If it strained my mouth to the ripping point, what would it do to my menstrual-tender pussy?

Alan pulled his cock out of my mouth with a sudden jerk that made my head reel. I bumped the back of my skull against the free and little stars flashed before my eyes for a second. There was a numbness and when I could feel anything, what I felt was Alan thumping the tip of his fucker in my bush.

"No," I said, "You'll kill me with that thing! Let me suck it for you."

"When I want to fuck, I want to fuck!" he snarled, and he shafted me with his polo.

I screamed. I couldn't repress it no matter how much I wanted to. Alan's prick slammed into my cunt, searing my raw hole with its hot thickness, and I wanted to burst into flames from my clit to my womb. I screamed again when I felt that he was pulling back for a fresh stroke, and he clamped his elbow down upon my chest, cutting off my breath for a moment. My head swam from oxygen-denial. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think. By the time Alan lifted his bony elbow, he'd plugged me half a dozen times in rapid succession. My cunt was still in one piece, but his prick was testing its limits and I felt like a production-line lemon.

Under normal circumstances I might have salivated at the very thought of taking his cock up my cunt. Certainly the challenge would have been irresistible. But these weren't normal circumstances. No seduction, no persuasion, no mutual inclination. Alan had simply led me into the woods, told me what I must do for him, and now I was doing it.

If anything, this cemented my growing dislike for the male species. Oh, not all of them, maybe. I was certain that Lee Kinloch would have a better technique than this. The only trouble was that Alan might turn me off men so thoroughly I'd never take the time to give Lee a workout.

Alan fucked in and out of me, gasping as he thrust his cock to full insertion, sighing as he jerked it back for a fresh onslaught. Each of his plunging strokes lifted me off the grass where I lay, and I felt the spread labes of my pussy kissing and caressing the base of his dick and the dangling noose of his balls.

It must have been fantastically easy for him. After all, my cunt was bloody-wet inside and greasy as an oil-pan. He moaned as he slammed me back and forth, but that moaning must have been due to the tightness of my snatch. Alan's was the biggest cock I'd ever had in my cunt, definitely, and I wondered how long I could endure it.

His eyes were closed and, though his hands clutched me, they weren't fondling or caressing. He was merely holding onto my body as a brace for his strenuous fucking. I meant nothing to him as a person. I'd known that for some time now. I was just a handy cunt – a giant fist in which he could shuck his pecker before going to the gym for a workout.

That fuck tool of Alan's ravaged the insides of my cunt and I wished it in hell a million times over. My body jerked and writhed each time his prick pushed into me, and my cunt was sopping with spilled menstrual blood. Jesus, I could smell it wafting up from down there into my nostrils. The way he fucked me I couldn't help moving and twitching, and he must have thought it was turning me on, because he muttered, "Oh, yeah, baby – yeah – shake your ass, Pat…"

"Pam," I corrected, finding my voice as he fucked me savagely and deeply. "Oh, Christ, I'm too sore! Why don't you quit it?"

"You – don't feel – sore – to me…" he grunted.

"Ouch!" I screamed shrilly, trying to prove that sore was what it was all about. Alan cuffed me hard alongside the cheek and I blinked back a hot burning tear. I didn't want to yell again. I could sense that he'd given me but a warning tap.

"Jesus, you're tight," he complimented between stabs. "You a virgin or something?"

Hell of a time to be asking that! "No, I'm not!" I gasped, feeling a particularly deep stab. Sometimes it's like heaven when a dick plays around the mouth of your womb. If the owner of the dick knows what he's doing. Alan didn't know much about screwing, in my opinion. He just lay on me, fucking his rocks off. And he smashed the end of my cunt the same way he tried to shove his cock down my throat – without the slightest consideration for me or my feelings. His cock was just a big pole moving around inside me, no brains, no plan, and the only thing I could hope for was that he'd be finished soon.

The ramming of Alan's pecker pulled and jerked my cunt, of course, but I could scarcely feel it. Mostly I just hurt. He hadn't done much to warm me up. He'd almost strangled me with his cock in my mouth, and he'd used his finger on my pussy, but that was it. The rest was the old routine – crawl on top and stick it in. I don't like that a bit. If I have sex with someone, I like to know that I'm a respected, desired part of the encounter. I like to be made love to, not just thrown and dicked. If only Lilly were here. She and I had taken six months of karate lessons last year and she remembered everything. She could give this bastard a chop that would separate his cock and his nuts for all time, and she'd laugh in his fucking face afterward. I wished I were Lilly. I wished I were balling Lilly right now, instead of being screwed by this basketball-playing goon.

"Hurry up," I snapped. "Your hot breath is making my eyeshadow run."

He mustn't have been used to getting lip from his girls – except for the kind of lip that melted around his peter. He called me a rotten name I won't spoil the paper with, and he began to fuck me faster. Of course it hurt – I wanted to spit him right out of my cunt and drip blood on him – but it was a sign that he should be finished soon, and thank God for that.

"Unh-unh-unh," he grunted, and his pecker slammed my box in hard, fast strokes. On the last one his body stiffened where it lay atop mine, and I felt him begin to unload his nuts. The hot cum squirted and sprayed inside me – I could feel each drop as it splattered from the tip of his prick – and it began to seep from the lips of my snatch as he pulled back to shoot me with even more. But his cock was losing its hardness, too – it was going slack even while it shot seed, and I sighed in relief.

Allan collapsed atop me then, sighing with fucked-out contentment. His body was long and powerful still, but he was weak from his release and I pushed him off me with no problem at all. He fell onto the ground with a snarl and he gave me a dirty look. I gave him the finger in reply and I pulled up my pants. My cunt was sopping with spilled blood and scum, and I couldn't bear to look at it.

"Get out of here!" I told him. "I don't want to see you when I opened up my eyes again."

He crawled towards me. "You fucking cunt!" he growled. "I should have stuck it up your asshole instead."

"You and who else, you overgrown pimple?"

He showed me who else then, when he belted me in the face. My cheek stung with the blow and I could taste blood on my lips where I'd bitten myself in surprise. His hand drew back to hit me again, and all I could do in defense was to close my eyes and scream the heavens down upon his head. It was a good scream, better than Fay Wray's in King Kong. The underbrush crackled, not far away, and a voice called out words I couldn't quite understand. Man made a gulping sound and he stood up fast, pulling up his pants as he did. He started running while he was still buckling his belt, and in the process he nearly had a head-on collision with a lady in a straw hat and artist's smock. She seemed somehow familiar, and then I remembered tat we'd seen her painting by the old riverbed.

She elbowed Alan aside and made straight for me. I sat up and pulled my undone halter shut just as she knelt beside me.

To begin, she wasn't a lady. No nasty meant there. But she was young, in her middle twenties, I supposed. Her hair was long, the color of spun gold, and her heart-shaped face was full of concern. For me? Who else? I asked myself.

"Are you all right?" she asked me, touching my shoulder. "Is there anything I can do?"

I shook my head. "I'm okay."

"Did he rape you?" she asked indignantly.

"Huh?"

She pointed to the front of my shorts. The mess from my pussy had leaked through, and there was a big purple-red stain on the pale yellow fabric. "Oh, shit!" I groaned.