It was growing dark when Linda came to with a start. As she sat up her head felt as though it would fall off, her body ached when she leaned forward, groaning helplessly as the memory of the afternoon flooded back to her sickened, tortured mind. There was an ache between her legs, an ache that spread around to her back, and as she looked down along her body she saw the bloody stain of her virginity on the couch and felt the ooze of cum in her inflamed pussy.
With the curtains drawn the room was so dark she didn't see Hugh, who was dozing on the floor with a cushion under his head, until she stumbled over him on her way to the bathroom, waking him up. She could see flecks of white, dried cum in the sandy hairs at the bottom of his stomach, and the weapon that had so violently taken her virginity lay slack, bent against his thigh, exposing his large testicle sac. And even as she watched him opening his eyes to stare up at her in a dull, half-comprehending way, she noticed the limp cock move slowly from a bent shape into a growing, semi-stiff curve. She fled to the bathroom and locked the door.
"Hey there Linda! Open up and let's get together under the shower. Come on, be a sport!" he called out. Jeez, he thought, I could go on banging this little bitch all night.
"If you don't leave me alone I'll open the bathroom window and scream, do you hear?" The cold shower was refreshing her but with the sobering force of it needling her skin she began to realize her predicament. She was supposed to be home when her parents returned at seven. She had been ravished. Should she tell them what had happened… perhaps they would call the police. But then she had not actually been raped. It was those strange Cokes… what could she do?
"Hugh," she called out, tremulously.
"Do you want me to come in, baby?"
"I want to know the time. My parents expect me home at seven."
"It's only half-past, you're not very late." Hugh had been thinking how he would be in an awkward position if Jenny found the kid here, especially if she was being held against her will. And it'd be a real mess if Linda's old man got the cops out looking for her. Better play it cool, he said to himself.
"Tell you what, Linda," he called. "I'll walk you home, right now. We'll tell your folks that you didn't have your key and that you came to tea with Jenny and me. OK?"
Now he was being nice again, but could she trust him? There wasn't much she could do about it. She could wait until his cousin Jenny or the girl who shared the apartment returned, but supposing they stayed out all night… her parents would be frantic with worry. Perhaps they had already called the police.
"Okay, Hugh. My father has probably already called the police, and I think the State law here defines a minor as a person under the age of sixteen. I'm a minor."
Hugh felt weak in the knees. Jeez, a bloody minor. The filthy cops just love grabbing a man for knocking off girls underage. The dirty bastards also love quizzing the girls about every little detail. Why didn't the silly bitch tell me?
"Listen, I didn't know how old you were. I still don't know."
"I'm fifteen. Actually, fifteen and four months." She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was very worried. She smiled to herself: I'll make him squirm. She dried herself hurriedly and unlocked the door to find Hugh dressed in shirt and white slacks ready to take her home.
They were silent all the way back along the promenade until they neared the Spenders' apartment building, then Hugh said, "I'm sorry Linda, I guess I fell in love with you and just couldn't resist kissing you. And when I drank a couple of vodkas and Coke I had to make love to you. Can you forgive me?" he begged. This was his only way out, he believed – he had to win her.
"I don't think I could ever forgive you. You behaved like a bastard. You probably are for all I know. Only that kind of person would sneak vodka into my drink. I suppose it's all I should expect from a truck driver or whatever you are. Or are you a butcher?" All the way from the apartment she had been fretting, her pride outraged by the fact that Hugh was probably as common as dirt, as his language was, at least those bits that returned to her mind through a fog of memory. She felt defiled.
Hugh was quick to counterattack. "Listen," he said, raising his voice a little, "my ancestors weren't convicts as yours probably were. We're connected with the aristocracy in England. My father's a judge in the Supreme Court and I'm studying law at the Brisbane University. So who are you? Just a daughter of a Yank businessman."
At that moment they were entering the building and coming out of the elevator was Linda's father.
"Princess," he cried, running up to her and throwing an arm around her shoulders. "I was just coming down to look for you. We've been worrying our heads off about you, honey. We were a little late home and thought maybe you'd gone to a movie. But when we saw your keys still on your bedroom table and noticed that your bikini was missing we were about to call the police. What happened?"
"As you can see, Daddy, I left the keys behind when I went for a swim. Then I met Hugh who took me to his cousin's for tea. Hugh," she continued, unconsciously pulling him gently forward by his arm to meet her father, "this is my father, Arnold Spender. Daddy, meet Hugh Watson. He's a law student from Brisbane." Hugh breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't calling the cops, by the sound of it. Bloody little snob.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Spender," Hugh said, putting on his best wide smile and twinkling eye. "Jenny and I were pleased to look after your daughter, though she'd be pretty safe around these parts." Turning to Linda he said, "If you ever get lost again you know where to find us. Or you could always go to a police station," he added, laughingly.
"Would you care to come up for a drink, young man?" asked her father. Hugh looked at Linda whose eyes said, "Why not?" However, Hugh had a cunning plan forming in his head. He wasn't going to lose this hot little bitch in a hurry.
"I'd certainly like to, sir," he said, remembering that young Americans he saw on the movies always said "sir" to their elders. "Unfortunately, I have to study tonight. These surf carnivals use up too much of my time. Perhaps I might phone Linda one day, if that's all right with her. My cousin will lend her a surf board and I could show Linda where the big ones are." Hugh chortled to himself. The biggest one was in the pants of old Sludge-Pump Yates.
"Why, of course, Hugh. Phone any time. Here's our number." Arnold Spender took a card from his pocket and wrote down the phone number of the apartment. "By the way," he added, "I forgot to thank you for looking after Linda. Thank your cousin for me, too. Good night."
"Good night sir, good night Linda," replied Hugh.
"Good night," she said. Her voice sounded slightly timid; a bit weak, thought Hugh. Surely she's not falling for me – just because I said I was a bloody law student with a judge for an old man! Wouldn't that be a laugh! I must dash down to the Surf Club, he said to himself. I've got a lot to tell the boys. They'll never believe I knocked off a fifteen year old this afternoon. And what a fuck!
He strolled down the promenade smiling to himself. A bloody Princess! The thought of bringing this snooty young American down a peg or two pleased him immensely and he laughed all the way to the Surf Club.
Tiger Kelly, Jim Yates and Billy Sutton were in the bar of the club drinking large pints of beer when Hugh walked in.
"OK buddy, you buy the next round," called Tiger. "You're fined for desertin' us. Where the hell did you go with that Yankee bird?"
"Yeah," chipped in Billy, "what's the idea of keeping that bit of jail-bait all to yourself. She's under sixteen, ain't she?"
"It'd be worth going to jail for," laughed Jim. "Come on, line 'em up. I'm as dry as a nun's cunt. Four pints, barman. Hugh's payin' for the lot, the lucky bastard." Jim Yates had been drinking since five o'clock and was starting to look like it. The others had taken a break to eat something, not wanting to get too far gone; they hoped to pick up some "birds" at the carnival dance in the club that night, whereas Jim needed to get drunk first. He was strangely shy of girls when he was sober but with a few pints of beer under his belt he'd tackle anything. Usually the ugliest girls around, the desperate ones who overlooked the fact that he was coarse, crude, with a sadistic glint in his eyes that were set too close together; he always had a black stubble around his large chin, his nose had been broken in a barroom fight and one look at his thick, bull neck wrinkled at the back was enough to frighten away practically every girl he ever met. In Brisbane they called him Sludge-Pump because of the size of his cock. Like most hygiene-mad Australians, his foreskin had been removed soon after birth and whenever he took a shower in the locker room, his friends would always admire that huge brown member with its large, purplish-red flanged head. "Like a policeman's helmet," remarked Billy who had lived in London.
When the team went to Sydney for the championships Jim asked them to forget his nickname. Everyone in Brisbane knew of his reputation for having the biggest tool in Queensland – probably in any other State as well. A national cock record for length, width and strength. "Just don't call me Sludge-Pump in front of strangers, that's all I ask you blokes." They did their best to please him. For one thing he was a powerful steersman; for another he was a terrific backstop in a fight. Both he and Tiger lead-footed the big trucks on the Interstate runs or worked as laborers during the winter months, saving enough to beachcomb through the summer. Billy did nothing, apart from surfing every day that was sunny and shacking up with rich women for months on end; they liked him so much they never bothered to call the police when he robbed them of money and jewelry. Billy and Jim often remarked that they'd like to fuck Hugh's cousin Jenny. "Ram me bazooka right up her cunt," promised Jim… "I'd like to rape that beautiful model's ass," was Billy's ambition.
"Here's to birds and what they have between their legs," toasted Tiger, taking a long draft from the big glass in his hand.
"Here's to the cherry we all like to kiss," toasted Hugh.
"Here's to our American allies," toasted Jim.
"And here's to Hugh for getting us Little Miss America. I propose a toast to the blonde whose cunt will make us all happy if not rich. When do we get going, Hugh?" asked Billy. "Couldn't we get her up to Jenny's apartment?"
"You've hit the nail right on the head, Billy. That's the place. I've got it all planned. There might be a few dollars in it, too, the way I've been thinkin' about it."
"What do you mean, you dirty old bastard," asked Billy. "Are you plannin' to hawk her fork?" They all laughed, drunkenly waving their pints of beer in the air.
"Count me in, too," said Jim. "Haven't dipped the wick since I've been in Sydney. How about Jenny, do you think she'd play ball?"
"'Course she would," chipped in Billy. "Myself, I think she might be more than interested in a bit of lezzo."
"Careful what you say about me cousin," growled Hugh, forgetting his polite English. But he had been suspecting that there was something odd about Jenny. She never had a regular fella and jeez, wasn't Sydney renowned for queers and lesbians! Worse than San Francisco, he'd heard. "If you bastards upset Jenny the whole thing's off. She's part of the plan."
"Come on, let's pick up some tail at the dance," Billy said, draining his glass. "We'll leave old Sludgie at the bar."
"Don't call me that or I'll drop you," mumbled Jim. "No foolin' I will." The others strolled out of the bar, hearing Jim call after them: "Oh man, oh man. Tomorrow night's the night!"
All through dinner Linda struggled to remain cool while her parents described their afternoon with Arnold's business associate. She hardly listened to them, for her head was splitting in an agony of confusion, guilt and shame. She tried to put it all together; how she had allowed herself to be trapped in an inescapable position in that apartment. The main fault was in believing that Hugh's cousin would be there to act as a chaperone. And there was her stupidity in forgetting her key. That was simply an act of Fate and nothing she could do would alter that. The worst thing, the thing that disgusted her, that brought her near to tears every time she thought of it, was the fact that her self-control had been destroyed. Her body, something deep within her, had willingly – more than willingly – cooperated with him. Her mother's voice shook her out of her continuing introspection.
"Honey, why aren't you eating? You've hardly touched your food. Has the day been too exciting for you?"
"It must be something like that, Mom. Would you and Dad mind? I think I'd like to go to bed. I'm awfully tired." They both said that she must have a good long sleep. "I expect that handsome young man will be wanting to show you some big ones tomorrow, so you'd better prepare yourself for some wild surfing, Princess," her father added.
"Yes… er… perhaps I had," she faltered. "Good night, Dad. Good night, Mom."
"'Night Princess," they chorused. She certainly did look worn out, poor kid. They all were, after the long flight and a wearing day in the heat.
Linda closed her bedroom door with a sigh. She slipped out of her clothes and lay naked on the bed. The night was humid and hot, too much so to wear a nightie or get under the sheets. She could hear the muffled roar of the breakers down on the beach, mingled with the sounds of traffic in the street. She tried again to fathom her dreadful predicament but it was no use, the effort only started a throbbing in her head. She tried to think of Tom and how she would make it up to him. He should have taken her. It was, she knew, only natural that he had lost his head and asked her to kiss his… oh, hell, his cock. In her mind she saw it again: it seemed so small by comparison; hard but small. His hand moving up her leg; that had given her a wonderful thrill. Tears began to well up in her eyes: she was no longer a virgin! Oh God, why, why, why?
She felt her pussy, feeling for its soreness, surprised that it wasn't at all sore on the outside. She took her compact mirror from her beach purse and put it between her legs to inspect the damage Hugh had done her. She pressed her middle finger cautiously down into her crotch, spreading the swollen lips like segments of a particularly succulent peach to feel deeper. No, it wasn't very sore there, only a little, and it was damp with a warm moisture. She felt a glow spreading irresistibly throughout her body, her breathing quickened a little. She could see a drop of her juice slowly oozing through the lips of her parted vagina. The sight of it made the blood start pounding through her body, making her feel unbearably hot. She thought guiltily of Tom's cock and the electric feeling increased. Her finger began to rub slowly along the moist groove and across her twitching clitoris. That was a little sore, but she couldn't seem to stop rubbing and sliding her finger back and forth. She thought of Hugh licking her breasts, sucking and nibbling her nipples. Her other hand unconsciously came up to play with her taut breasts, pushing them up hard and then gently curling her fingers around the nipples. Her buttocks starting pushing up in slow surges as her finger on her pussy pushed down.
The confused young girl put everything out of her mind, all the guilt, the shame, the unbearable anxiety. Oh God. I wish I could stop this but I can't, I won't. What do they call it? A sin! But no. I read somewhere it's a harmless, natural thing to do. That's it! Harmless and natural, she rationalized to herself.
Rolling over on to her stomach, she kept her finger in the furrow, her other hand gently massaging her breasts. Her smooth buttocks moved up and down so that she didn't have to move her finger as much, though she tried to push it into her vagina – that hurt too much, she was still sore in there.
If only Hugh were here now. If only Tom were here, she corrected herself. I love Tom and I'm going to marry him. The deep and wonderful feeling was beginning to leave her: the guilt taking over. Would Tom marry me if he knew what happened this afternoon? Closing her eyes, she lay limp on the bed, her finger stopped in the warm moist pussy. I won't think about Tom, I won't think of anything. But into the blankness of her mind came the vision of Hugh's big member and the remembrance of her orgasm with him. She spread her legs apart, raised her buttocks and feverishly massaged her clitoris with all five fingers sending spasm after spasm of exhilarating sensation through her tensed up body until she felt she would explode.
Suddenly her eyes rolled back in her head, her nostrils flared and with a deep-throated groan her body vibrated uncontrollably, her vagina exuding sticky secretions over her hand, twitching fitfully in her soaking cunt, a strand of her sun-streaked hair caught in her gasping mouth. "Oh God, that was delicious, I really loved it," she murmured to herself. At last the ravished fifteen year old girl sank into a dreamless sleep.