"No longer virgin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Finch R W)

CHAPTER FOUR

Following her session with Miss Westoff, Wendy went directly home and packed. All that mattered was that she get away.

She now stood on the shoulder of U.S. Highway 20, about an hour outside of Fort Worth and was hitchhiking west under the blazing afternoon sun. The desert which stretched to the mountains in the distance, was a sandy, barren expanse broken only by small clumps of scrub pine and cactus. The road seemed endless, a narrow black strip of asphalt that ran both before and behind her to each horizon. She shifted her weight from one small foot to the other, watched impassively as a station wagon loaded with kids passed. She was in no great hurry.

The last ride she'd gotten had been with a weathered, red-faced old rancher in a fairly new pick-up truck, and had ended when he'd turned off for Mineral Wells. Wherever that was, Wendy thought.

She'd gotten out, thanked him, set her knapsack beside the road and thrust out her thumb again. Her face was beginning to tan deeply, her windblown hair, combed only intermittently over the last two days, was starting to look a bit tousled. She wore the same denims and blouse she'd left home in, had not bothered to change clothes, had slept in them both nights. She knew she needed a bath, but did not really care one way or the other. She'd straighten herself out when she reached Los Angeles, would wait to worry about her appearance until then.

A Cadillac with an elderly couple in it passed, threw dust on her, did not slow down. Wendy shrugged and sat down on her knapsack, waiting. She glanced around at the countryside, could not remember ever feeling so totally alone. She was impressed with the scenery, though, she had to admit. It looked almost like a painting, almost too perfectly beautiful to be real.

A battered Mustang slowed as it passed her, then stopped with a squeal of rubber. It backed up over on the shoulder of the road, sat waiting for her.

Wendy stood up. She noticed the Tennessee license plates, noticed also that the trunk of the car was almost completely bashed in. She hesitated a second, finally grabbed her knapsack and ran to the car.

A tall, dark-haired young man sat behind the wheel, smiling at her. He looked around twenty years old, was lean and wiry. The back seat was loaded up with clothes, books, some household goods, and what looked to Wendy like camping equipment. He seemed safe enough, she decided. She got in.

"Thanks," she said, set her knapsack on the foot between her feet. She exhaled with a small sigh, sat back. Her legs were beginning to ache.

They pulled back onto the highway, threw sand and gravel behind them. Wendy hung on, glanced over at the driver sharply.

"Where you heading for?" he asked. He talked with a distinctly Southern accent.

"Los Angeles."

"Well, isn't everybody?" he said. "I'm going out there myself to try to find some work. Guess we'll be together a bit. My name's Marshall. Marshall Tucker."

"I'm glad to meet you. I'm Wendy."

"City girl?" Marshall asked, tromping it to the floor and passing the Cadillac that had showered Wendy with dirt.

"Not really," Wendy laughed.

"Where you from?"

"Up north," was all she said. "You?"

"Tennessee," he said. "Snortbuck County. About ten miles east of Duck River. Nice place. Real comfortable. No work around, though."

"What a funny name," Wendy mused.

"Duck River? Yeah, it is kinda odd, I guess."

"No," Wendy laughed. "Snortbuck County. It sounds like some… wild western town or something."

"Nothing of the sort, I'm afraid," he laughed. "About the wildest it gets in Snortbuck County is when old Elmo Jenkins gets ripped on white lightning and starts knocking the pool hall to pieces. Yeah. Anyway, it's home to me. Hell, I miss it already and I've only been on the road one lousy day."

"So, you're going to Los Angeles, too?" Wendy asked, looked at him. He had an easy manner about him, relaxed, and that, coupled with his lean rugged appearance, appealed to her.

"That's right. I've got relatives there. Aunts and uncles and cousins, too. Never met any of them, of course. Talked to my uncle on the phone once, though. He told me to come on out. Well, here I am. What are you going out there for?"

"Oh…" she started vaguely. "I'm sort of looking for work, too. Mostly, I just needed a change of scenery. California seemed like the place to go."

Marshall was silent a moment, said finally, "You seem a little young to be out on your own. I mean, it doesn't matter to me, mind you. It's your business and all. It's just you seem kinda young to be so far from home."

"Well, how old do you think I am?" Wendy laughed.

"Oh… sixteen?" he guessed, glanced over at her.

"I'm eighteen," she laughed. "Everybody says that. That I look so young. I'll probably look twenty when I'm forty. I'm lucky, I guess. People tell me that, anyway."

"Always lucky to look young," Marshall nodded with a smile.

Wendy settled back, tried to stretch her legs. She really didn't have that much room. She pushed her knapsack aside slightly, got as comfortable as she could manage.

"How far is it to Los Angeles from here?" she asked.

"I don't know for sure," Marshall shook his head. "I've never been there. Never been out of Tennessee, actually. I figure, though, we should get into L.A. sometime late tomorrow night. Hell, it'll take us the rest of the clay just to get across Texas. It's pleasant enough country, though."

"It sure is," Wendy agreed, tensed when a huge semi-trailer truck rolled past them, almost blew them off the road. "God!"

"Yeah, those boys drive like crazy out here on this open road," Marshall said. "If I had a newer car, I'd just stay right behind one of those big rigs all the way. They do about eighty, got a radio, tell each other where the police is. They slow down, and sure enough, you'll always come across a Highway Patrol car, sitting about a mile up the road."

"I'm in no hurry," Wendy said.

"Oh, just relax now. I've been driving since I was ten years old. I'll get us there all right."

"I hope so," Wendy laughed.

"Marsh, you didn't have to pay for my dinner," Wendy said, shook her head with a laugh. "I have enough money."

They had just passed through the small Texas town of Odessa, were once again driving across the open prairie. It was dark out, not a cloud overhead, and the moon illuminated the desert rushing by them with an eerie glow. Wendy could make out the outline of a ridge of mountains, off to the side and before them, still miles ahead.

"Well, I know I didn't have to, girl," Marshall said. "You just hang on to your money, though. You're going to need every penny you've got when you hit Los Angeles. Besides, you might just make it big in the movies or something, never can tell, and, if you do, just remember old Marshall Tucker bought your supper once. Anyhow," he laughed, "you're sure pretty enough to be one of those Hollywood starlets and all."

"Oh, Marsh!" she laughed. "I'll bet you say that to all the girls you pick up hitchhiking."

"I never picked up a hitchhiker before," he said, glanced at her with a smile. "I never liked the idea of maybe catching a knife in the ribs when I wasn't looking. Never can tell, you know."

"Why did you stop for me, then?" she asked.

"Oh… you looked harmless enough. Kind of like an injured bird sitting there by the side of the road." He laughed at her expression.

Wendy shook her head with a smile, stared out the window.

"This looks like as good a place as any to get some sleep," Marshall was saying, pulled over into the roadside rest area. He stopped the car and cut the lights. They were still almost two hours from El Paso.

Wendy sat up. In the darkness she could make out several covered picnic tables, just as many stone barbecue pits, and two rest-rooms, separate out-buildings, sided with cedar strips. A semi-trailer truck and a few cars already occupied the short cut-off road and Marshall had parked as far from them as possible.

"Have you ever slept outside?" he asked her.

"When I was a kid, we used to camp out in the backyard during the summer a lot. I can handle it." She smiled at him.

"I've only got one sleeping bag and you can use it. I've got some extra blankets I'll just throw on the ground for myself. It's going to get pretty cold tonight. This desert doesn't hold the heat from the day too well."

"I don't want to take your sleeping bag," Wendy protested. "I can sleep with just the blankets. That's all I really need."

"Don't worry about it. You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"

"No," she laughed, and jumped out of the car to stretch her legs. She walked around a bit, felt good to be in the cool night air. She looked back to Marshall.

He was pulling a handful of tangled blankets from the back seat, carried them over to a spot beside one of the picnic tables. He dropped them, went back for the sleeping bag.

"I can help," Wendy said, and walked to the car. From the passenger's side she managed to locate the sleeping bag, tugged it out. She unrolled it, then dragged it over near the blankets Marshall had arranged on the grass. "Right here?" she asked.

"Sure," he nodded. "Have you got everything you need out of the car?"

"I think…"

He walked to the car, locked both of the doors, then came back to Wendy. "We've got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow," he said, sat down and took off his shoes. He left his clothes on, crawled under the mound of blankets, moved around some, straightening them as best he could, finally lay still. "I'll see you in the morning, Wendy."

"Good night, Marshall," she said, sat down on the sleeping bag. She slipped her shoes off, unzipped the side of her bed, then climbed into it. She took several minutes trying to get comfortable, then lay her head down. She rolled onto her back, pulled the flap of the sleeping bag up under her chin, stared at the black sky sprinkled with stars overhead. The moon was almost down already, hovered just over the ridge of mountains she'd been watching as they drove.

"Marsh?" she whispered. "Are you asleep yet?"

"Yes. No. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." She was silent for a moment, then she asked him, "Are you afraid at all?"

"Of what?" He turned to her finally, raising up on one elbow. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know exactly. Los Angeles, I guess. Being so far from everything. You know."

"Yeah, I know," he answered slowly. "Sure, I'm scared just a little. Not much, really. Mostly, it's not knowing for sure what'll happen next. It'll pass. It always does."

They were both silent.

"Marsh?"

"What?"

"Would you kiss me good night?"

He didn't answer her right away, then asked, "Do you really want me to?"

"I'd like you to. I like you. Everything's happening so fast."

He didn't move, merely looked at her.

Wendy said finally, "You don't have to, Marsh. Not if you don't want to. I wasn't trying to embarrass you or anything."

"You're not embarrassing me, Wendy. I want to. Kiss you, I mean."

"Just a good night kiss. No one's kissed me good night in ages. Not since I was a little kid."

Marshall crawled from under his blankets and crept over beside her. He touched her vibrantly warm cheek lightly with his fingertips, then leaned over and kissed her softly on the mouth. He looked down at her.

Wendy said quietly, "It's nice out here, isn't it? It's all so peaceful at night."

"Almost like back home," Marshall nodded. "Of course, we got no desert back home and flat it ain't, but it feels almost the same for some reason. Maybe because of the sky. I don't know."

He kissed her again.

"Is it comfortable over there in your blankets?" Wendy asked.

"It's all right. I've slept on a lot harder ground with a lot less over me."

Wendy looked away from him, said, "There's room enough in this sleeping bag for two, Marsh. We might keep each other a bit warmer."

Marshall hesitated only a moment, then pulled Wendy to him, squeezing her in his arms. Wendy held on to him tightly, was comforted by his strength, by his warmth. He unzipped the sleeping bag, then crawled in on top of her, cradled between her denimed thighs. He kissed her once, then again, probing with his tongue, the heat of his breath exciting her. He slowly pulled away from her mouth with a soft sucking sound.

Wendy said, "I haven't had a bath in two days. I probably stink really bad, don't I?" She wrinkled her pretty nose.

Marshall laughed, "You smell like a woman. You're supposed to."

Wendy giggled, and then said quietly, "Marsh, I've never…"

"Never what?"

"You know. Been with a man. Not really. Not like this, anyway."

"Never? With your looks? Oh, come on!"

"I've kissed and hugged a few. Maybe a little more sometimes. But I've never actually… gone all the way."

"You're serious? Nobody's ever fucked you before? You're still a virgin? For real?"

"You don't have to make it sound so terrible," she laughed. "There's still a few of us around, you know."

"I guess," he said.

"I want you to…" she trailed oft could not bring herself to say it. "Do you know what I mean?"

"Of course I know what you mean," he said.

"You don't sound very pleased."

"It's not that," he said. "I just feel kind of funny, being the first and all. I mean, don't get me wrong. I really like you a lot. More than a lot, even. You're damned easy to care about. But, why me?"

"I like you," she said quietly. "You're nice. And I need someone. Someone to be close to. I need it." She looked away, had not meant to sound so serious. Finally, she said, "I won't hold you to anything. You won't be obligated to me or anything like that. You don't mind being the first, do you?"

"Hell, no, I don't mind!" he laughed. "Of course, there's always a little pain when a man busts into a woman's cunt for the first time. It might make you cry out a bit."

"I know and I'm not going to worry about it. Anyway, I'm already open down there."

"What do you mean?"

"My… it's not closed up. My doctor, when he examined me, said it was broken already."

"Your cunt doesn't work?"

"Not that!" she laughed. "My hymen. It's already broken…"

He looked at her quizzically.

"My cherry," she said, blushed like mad after she said it. She was thankful for the darkness.

"I know what a hymen is," Marshall laughed. "But, come on. You can tell me. Who'd you really lose it to?"

"My bicycle," she said with a small shrug. "That's what the doctor said probably happened, anyway. I was so embarrassed when he mentioned it, he just kind of dropped it."

"And that's how it got broken?"

"Marshall, I'm serious," she said softly.

"I know, I know. Relax, I'm just kidding. But, it's still going to hurt you some. There's no way around it."

"I'll risk it," she breathed, moved her hips against him slightly. The heat between them was building already. "Are you sure I don't smell too terrible?"

"I won't know until after I get your clothes off," he laughed, then said, "Don't worry about it."

"Well, I don't want to be running around out here completely naked," she said, glancing around. "I mean, there are a few cars over there."

"We're not going to be doing much running," he said, then raised himself partially beside her, partially on top of her, and unbuttoned her blouse. He reached down and unsnapped her jeans, Wendy raising her hips to help him, then pushed her denims and underwear to her knees. "God!" he said, laughed. "I really can smell your cunt!" He worked his foot between her bare legs, pushed the garments down around her slender ankles.

Wendy kicked her feet, managed to free herself from them. She pushed them down into the bottom of the sleeping bag, left them where she could find them.

"It's kind of awkward in here, ain't it?" Marshall said, and slid his hand across her smooth tummy to her silky white breasts, squeezed first one, then the other, fondling them until Wendy's alert pink nipples puckered, stiffening erect.

She was busy undoing Marshall's shirt, wanted to feel his chest against her, wanted his body wrapped around her own. She pulled his shirt free, fumbled with his belt, finally unbuckled it. Then she unzipped him quickly and reached for him without hesitation, encircling his hardened cock with her slender fingers. She angled it out of his pants, pulling at it, fell it throb in her hand, alive with sensation. Marshall groaned low in his throat, pushed his pants down out of the way.

Wendy moved her hand along the warm fleshy shaft to the velvety smooth cap at the end, ran her fingers slowly over the keenly responsive glans, caused Marshall to shudder. She could feel the oily conditioning fluid dribble out of the small hole and she smeared it with her fingertip. It was sticky to the touch.

"It's so… big!" Wendy breathed, loved the feel of his stiffened cock in her hand. She shivered deliciously.

"What is?" Marshall laughed.

"Your… thing," she stammered.

"What thing?"

"Your…" and she closed her eyes. "Cock!" She started to blush again the instant she said it, had never once said the word aloud before. "Your cock!" she said again, almost proudly.

Marshall smiled at her excitement, then shifted his attention from her firm breasts and ripe nipples to the hair-covered hillock, between her eagerly spread thighs. He gently squeezed her pink cunt, compressed the moist lips, then opened them again. He searched, found the tiny erect button of her sensitive clit, circled it repeatedly. Wendy trembled, shaking, her eyes bright with anticipation. Wendy bit into her full lower lip. She was starting already to breathe more quickly, could feel the warm lubrication of her slick sex oozing from her, the heady fragrance of it now clearly evident to them both.

"God, your cunt gets wet quick!" Marshall said, pushed his finger slowly up into it, gently explored the interior heat of the tight cleft of flesh. Her trembling pink labial lips sucked wetly at his finger. "I never seen a pussy get so slippery so fast!"

"What do you expect!" she gasped with a sharp little intake of breath, giggling. "You're touching… Oh! Right on my… Oh!" She squirmed suddenly, raising her slim hips to him, at the same time pulled him almost completely on top of her. Marshall sucked at her ivory neck, worked his face down to her firm breasts, chewing at her taut rubbery nipples. He was between her slender legs, supported by the warmth of her bare inner thighs. He moved his hips against her.

"Go slow," Wendy said in a tiny voice.

"Relax. I'll be careful. We're just going to take it nice and easy. I got no intention of ripping up your sweet cunt before we even get started. Not right away, at least."

Wendy felt the warm tip of his cock graze along her damp thigh, felt it press against her tentatively.

"Oh!" she giggled, startled. "It's down too far! You're putting it… in my… OH! Here, let me!"

She took his throbbing cock in her small hand again, guiding him, the tightly veined skin of it shifting under her fingers, the hard center of it jabbing forward as he thrust at her. "Easy," she breathed, spread her knees slightly wider to accommodate him, felt the inflamed lips of her tingling pussy gaping open, swelling with the hot rise of her lust.

"Just relax now. It'll be all right," he assured her, then Wendy felt the swollen tip of his stiffness entering her, felt his twitching glans part the slick deft wetly. She tensed, held her breath while he gradually, inch by inch, began to slip into the pulsating passageway of her pussy.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"It's awful tight," she answered, swallowed. "God, it's so big! I'm not sure I can…"

He laughed, "You'll get used to it. You might even get to like it."

Wendy smiled, kissed him on the mouth lightly. He pushed his hips slowly against her, continued to inch slightly more into her heat.

"Wait a second!" she said quickly. "Just lay right there. Let me get used to it." She took a deep breath.

"I might just come right here," he said.

"Not yet!" she giggled softly, felt him throb within her. "Wait for me!"

He squeezed her around the waist, while she was still giggling gave a sudden vigorous shove with his hips and pushed his thick cock fully into the heat of her gripping cunt, cleaving all the way into her. Wendy let out a little squeal, clutched at his back, held herself rigid under him. "Don't move!" she gasped. "It hurts just a little."

He lingeringly kissed her on the mouth, lay buried to the hilt in her, the curly hair between their damp thighs meshed tightly together. He kissed along her smooth cheek until he was nibbling at her ear, then moved slowly back to her mouth.

Wendy attempted to move, took it very slowly and carefully. "Does that feel good?" she murmured, was tensing the muscles deep within her loins. "Do you like that?"

"You're so damned hot and tight in there, I can't believe it!" Marshall managed. "It feels like you're sucking on me with your pussy when you move like that! It's even making my balls tighten up!"

Wendy giggled, reached between his legs from behind, touched lightly at the fleshy pouch hanging there, gently stroked what felt to her like two walnuts suspended in oil. They bobbed away from her fingers, were difficult to restrain.

Marshall started to move his hips against her with short, almost bouncing, thrusts, slowly, then gradually increasing the tempo, was met each time by Wendy's hot moist crotch, her strong thighs pumping yet more quickly, more urgently with each stroke of his pistoning hardness. Wendy's muffled sighs rapidly became hoarse groans, then changed abruptly to sharp little cries of pleasure, her supple body yielding to his, squirming beneath him. She thrashed with her bare legs, was becoming tangled with the sleeping bag, tried to kick herself free, was hopelessly entangled.

Marshall hammered at her with his body, was driving the full length of his pumping cock into her with quicker and quicker thrusts, was engorging her cunt with his hard shaft, inflaming the tight passage.

"It's so far IN!" Wendy moaned, twisted against him. "Your cock feels so good! I… I love it, Marsh. Oh!" His hands were clenching at her back, at the undersides of her writhing thighs, at her sweaty, pumping buttocks. "Oh, Marsh, I love it! Oh, God! I love you fucking me! I love your cock!"

He was ramming his rigid shaft deeply into her, the base of it grinding against her wildly throbbing clit, pivoting on it almost, tightening the tension of her ravenous desire and stretching her into a taut squirming wire. Her young body, glistening with perspiration, bucked wildly beneath him, the quivering warmth of her churning vaginal muscles pulling wetly at his driving cock, sucking on it almost, lusting for the thick shaft of it to penetrate the pink heat yet more deeply.

"Fuck me, Marsh!" Wendy groaned. "Fuck me faster! Oh goddamn! Ram it in deeper. Deeper!" She writhed and thrashed, her hot thighs urging him on, faster and faster, her pumping buttocks digging into the ground. His battering cock was slamming up into her, pounding her wildly.

She was an animal in heat, delirious with the wanton ecstasy surging through her loins, was conscious only of the ramming stiff cock that gutted her senses. A profusion of ragged moans and sobs suddenly escaped her lips, and she was inside out, her crackling nerve ends exposed, her straining muscles convulsing.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried, was on fire, overwhelmed by the shuddering spasms that flailed her.

"I… oh! Oh, shit! Fuck!!"

Marshall was suddenly filling her with hot liquid, squirting it up into her, his action as frenzied as hers, his arms squeezing the breath from her. He ground into her once more, his teeth clamped to her neck, then was lifeless.

They lay in a sweat-covered haze, the night air cool on them and growing cooler, oblivious to everything but each other.