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"Beg for it, you beautiful, little brown bitch," he gasped.

Kalola looked up at him with wild eyes, her pride and her hate forgotten. "Yes!" she cried. "Yes, I beg. Do it. Make me come!"

He leered. "Say please."

"Please! Please, please, please!"

"That's better, Goddamn you. Kick me in the nuts, will you? I'll have you on the floor licking my feet before this night is over."

"Okay. Anything! But please make me come."

Grinning savagely, he increased the tempo of his plunging prick. When he felt her cunt begin to work convulsively, he let himself go, filling her with the viscous, sticky stuff.

She thought her strength gone, her body weakened from the strain of the hour in which he had tortured her, but when she felt him gushing into her, it was as though he were injecting her with new power. She arched her back so violently that she lifted him a foot off the bed. Her strong legs clamped his thighs with the strength of a maddened octopus, her heels drumming on his buttocks as she tried to drive him even deeper into her. Her orgasm was devastating, a thing of total, bodily involvement. She felt that she was melting in the heat of her own passion… melting and running like a river of fire into the white-hot chalice of her own cunt.

It was over and yet it was not. Herb would not let it be over. Where Jimmy had been content after screwing her to light a cigarette or roll over and go to sleep, Herb gave her not even a moment in which to collect herself or to enjoy the deep, somnolent pleasure of passion's afterglow. He withdrew from her and immediately began to suck her nipples while his fingers did a light dance on her sensitized body. When she protested feebly, he ignored her plea and began making a tour of her body with the tip of his tongue. He drew it across her stomach and her ribs, down the length of her leg to her feet and up the other leg. He even rolled her over to give her back the same treatment, kissing and biting at her buttocks, then spreading them to tantalize the brown button of her anus, licking it until she was in a frenzy of new excitement and even forcing the tip of his tongue into the tight orifice.

She couldn't imagine why he was doing such a thing, but she didn't care. She was pleading with him to fuck her again. She was not aware of his intention until he had pushed her onto her side, hunched himself up close to her back and had the head of his cock started into her asshole. She struggled, but he was too strong for her. She screamed in real pain as he thrust strongly into her. She would have fought him, but he reached over her hip and thrust his hand in her crotch, his fingers finding her clitoris and agitating it. She forgot the pain then, even relishing it and letting it help her toward another orgasm. He made her come three times that way, then began another long siege of teasing until she was again a bundle of agonized nerves and begging for release.

"Okay," he told her, "take it in your mouth and I'll fix you up. Otherwise, I'll keep you going like this all night."

"I don't do that. It's dirty."

"Suit yourself."

"Fuck me in the ass again. I liked that."

"No, I'm tired of it. Suck my cock or I'll go down on you and I won't let you come either."

"Okay, but you make me come soon, hunh?"

"After you swallow my jism, baby."

He turned around on the bed and, putting a hand behind her head, thrust his dripping, shit-flecked prick between her lips. Kalola dutifully sucked. It seemed a strange and nasty thing to be doing until he put his face to her crotch and began licking her pussy. Then, when her passion had again been aroused to an intense pitch, she began to like the feel and the taste of him in her mouth. When he came, she swallowed rapidly and milked the shaft with her hand to extract the last drop of semen. She continued to hold his cock in her mouth as he worked her clitoris and brought her to another wild climax.

"You better go home now, kiddo. You got a show to do this afternoon," Herb said sleepily at six o'clock in the morning.

"I don't want to go," Kalola rejoined. "Why can't I just stay here with you, Herb? Tonight, after work, I'll fix dinner for you. I'm a good cook Hawaiian style. Then we can go to bed and fuck and suck all night again."

He regarded her coldly. "I see you don't get the picture," he told her. "I never screw the same girl twice, honey. You're a great little piece of ass, but, frankly, seconds on you would bore hell out of me. Run along now. It was fun. Let's let it go at that."

Considering the scene she had made when Jimmy Murphy had rejected her, Kalola went very quietly. She went to her own apartment, called an airline for reservations, packed and took a cab to the airport. She was going home and she would never again in her lifetime come to the mainland never even want to hear it mentioned.

She got in line to validate her ticket behind a beautiful, red-haired girl and a pretty blonde dressed like a hippie.

It required only two hundred miles of cottony white clouds, as seen from several miles above a sparkling blue Pacific, for the three girls to become acquainted. Seated together on the starboard side of the aircraft, they made an interesting study in contrasts with Kalola's dark, exotic beauty, the blonde prettiness of Ellen Canfield, and Lynn, the vivid and vivacious redhead.

By the four-hundred-mile point, they had begun to tell each other their troubles.

"I saw your picture in the paper," Lynn sympathized with Ellen. "How terrible for you for your… her… husband to die that way."

Ellen regarded her blankly. Then her lazy, pretty mouth curled into a smile that was half sincere. "You mean like the papers said, from an overdose of 'L'? Bullshit, darling. Maxy fucked himself to death, and don't start thinking what a lucky girl I was either. The son of a bitch didn't screw himself into the next world on me. He got tired of me after the first week. All I did after that was hustle for him to keep him in bread."

"Men are dirty bastards," Kalola put in, her eyes slitting and her lips forming a hard, bitter line. "I will never be nice to another man. I will take them for everything I can get from them… after I have made them screw me, of course."

"My own experience with them has not been so good," Lynn confessed. "My own husband divorced me for no better reason than because he happened to catch me playing with his best friend's cock. Now, mind you, we hadn't done a thing. It was at a party and we'd all been drinking. I'd been dancing with this man and he got a hard-on, and all I did was take it out and stroke it a little."

"And they think they're so superior," Kalola snorted, "the narrow-minded, nasty, selfish bastards!"

Ellen nodded in sympathetic agreement.

"What will you do in the islands?" Kalola asked her.

Ellen shrugged and looked vague. "I don't know. I hear there's a nice hippie colony out on Oahu. Max had two kilos of pot stashed away. I sold it for enough to get a plane ticket. I still got a half a kilo and a dozen tabs each of LSD, mescaline and speed. That'll get me by for a while."

"You're better off than I am," Lynn said. "That cheap brother-in-law of mine gave me only three hundred dollars. I guess I'll have to find me a little grass shack on the beach and live off of bananas."

Kalola looked at her pityingly. "Boy, you malihini wahines sure got plenty to learn. If you find a grass shack anywhere, it will be on top of a high-rise apartment building and cost you two hundred bucks a month. They catch you swiping bananas they put you in jail and forget they got you in there."

"What is a malihini wahine?" Lynn asked.

"Wahine is girl," Kalola replied, "and malihini is newcomer… like tenderfoot or greenhorn. You'll be lucky to find an apartment at all. I've got friends who live in what we call 'The Jungle'. That's the poor people's district off the main street in Waikiki. Sometimes you can get an apartment there for a hundred a month… you pay the gas and lights."