Ward Fulton - The Violated Virgin

With great care, she lowered her hands to her crotch and felt her mound, probing inside with her fingers where the still-tender folds of flesh told her it had not been a dream. Her finger touched her clitoris, and a hot sea of sensuality swept over her, reminding her of Ted's penis as it penetrated her. She touched her clitoris again, and once more the feeling gushed through her loins. She really wasn't hurt, she told herself.

With a sigh, she relaxed, letting her fingers coax her sexuality into a rising wave of ecstasy. Slowly she gripped the shaft of her clitoris, massaging the end with her fingers while her passions rose, and she began moving her hips slowly, her mind filled with the memory of Ted's swollen organ plunging in and out of her vagina.

With her other hand she caressed her stomach, sliding up to her breasts and tweaking the nipples gently, bringing them to a state of erection, their hard little nubs so sensitive as her fingers brushed over them.

She drew saliva from her mouth and rubbed around her nipples, making them slick and reminding her of the hungry mouth that had enclosed them and the ravenous tongue that flicked back and forth, exciting her beyond words.

In her mind she recalled the heavy breathing, the excited hiss of his words as he muttered obscene comments on their union, and with each "Fuck me, fuck me," she found her loins quivering with additional eroticism as her finger rubbed quicker and quicker around her clitoris.

Her hips were moving faster now up and down, just the way they had when she finally began getting with it and knew that Ted's massive phallus was the first thing that had really brought her knowledge of true satisfaction, a mind-blasting experience that shattered all her previous ideas of ultimate ecstasy. Yes, she thought, it is good, this is what I've always wanted; I've wanted to be taken, to be ravished, to feel a man on top of me, doing whatever he wanted with my body, giving himself all the sensations he could get from her hot, snapping cunt that clung greedily around that magnificent shaft as it slid into her, fitting so perfectly all the way into her vagina, its flat, wide head titillating the opening of her womb.

Her fingers pinched harder at her nipples, and her fingers pushed deeper into her canal, and in her mind it was Ted's organ there, propelling her faster and faster towards her own climax. She felt her insides begin to convulse, and her body was no longer heaving but trembling, shaking from head to toe, and she stifled the urge to scream out at the top of her voice, "Fuck me, you big-cocked stud, give it all to me, every goddamn inch of that big thick wonderful thing, jam it right up my cunt as far as you can and shoot your jism into me!"

She saw Ted's face above hers, and heard once more the giggling of his brother, his face glued between her legs, watching every movement while his hand manipulated his own throbbing cock. She could almost swear she could smell his earthy, male odor around her, filling her nostrils with extra stimulation. Then she felt her vagina quiver with its final orgasm, and her finger seized her clitoris as her other hand squeezed her breast and she felt her juices flowing and she cried out softly, moaning and twisting on the bed as she felt herself being lifted high up on a cloud of heavenly ecstasy. Then, just as she felt she had reached the peak of her climax, she heard a voice, "Suzanne… please … please…" and in her mind she saw the outline of a penis in the dim moonlight, and it was Sam's voice ringing in her brain. Her mouth opened and she screamed out, "Sam… Sam." Then all images disappeared from her imagination, and she opened her eyes to see the sun streaming through the venetian blinds, striping the carpet with a bright glare.

She withdrew her hand from beneath the sheet and stared at her fingers, still slick with the juices from her vagina. With a shudder she threw back the covers and walked quickly to the bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping into the stinging spray even before it had warmed up. She closed her eyes and stood, her skin flinching beneath the chilly stream, and only opened her eyes again as the warm water began.

In the distance she heard the clatter of heels on the stairs, and from below on the street the scream of tires mingled with the blast from a car horn. As she stepped out of the shower and began toweling herself, she bit her lip and once again pictured Sam's face before her. "Oh, Sam," she whispered, "Where are you, where are you?"

Suzanne found it difficult to concentrate on her classes that day.

Mechanically she went through the motions of greeting her friends, of taking notes, of listening to her instructors, and eating a steerburger and a Coke at Verne's for lunch. Yvonne was in the bar, playing pool with Jeff, a young medical student whose youth and virile appeal had given him quite a reputation around town as being a ladies' man.

Suzanne watched them both as they pranced around the pool table, Jeff exhibiting a boyish enthusiasm for his prowess and Yvonne doing her best Bette Davis impersonation as she studied each shot before lowering her practiced eye to the pool cue and sent the ball lazily across the green felt. Suzanne watched, thinking how their way of playing matched their personalities. Jeff took a few seconds to decide, then shot fast and hard, and usually made the pocket he aimed for; he probably picked his sleeping partners the same way, Suzanne thought. Yvonne took her time, considered all the angles, and then played slow and safe, her ball usually trickling across the table and dropping in the pocket almost as its momentum ran out. But then Yvonne was probably quite a bit older than Jeff; or would it be better to say Jeff was quite a bit younger than Yvonne? What difference did it make? It's not the age of your men, Yvonne had said once, but how well they can age you. Suzanne wondered how many years Jeff had put on Yvonne since they had met. She knew they had been going together, at least that's what the campus gossip had said. But then Jeff went with just about anyone; rumor had it he had donated his penis to the Smithsonian Institute upon his death to be enshrined as a national monument. After all, there were still quite a number who hadn't seen it, let alone had the pleasure of its company. Penis… cock… Suzanne shook her head and tried to finish her steerburger, but found herself chewing without enjoyment; tasting without taste. She pushed the plate away in disgust, staring at the meat between the bun and again remembering another piece of meat she had chewed on, a hard, throbbing member with a broad flat head, and again Ted's obscene words rang in her ears.

Yvonne's husky guffaw echoed through the bar, and Jeff threw the pool cue on the floor. His explosive "Shit!" caused several customers to turn, look and grin. The regulars at Verne's were well used to Yvonne's prowess at the pool table; her feigned concentration and naive approach concealed a pool shark from way back. She picked up her glass of beer and sashayed up to Suzanne.

"Well, darling, did you see, did you see?" she gloated, and then as Jeff walked up behind her, his handsome face frowning, she added,

"You're really not mad at me, are you, baby?"

Jeff grinned at Suzanne, and slumped into a chair, sucking his teeth.

"Mad? At you?" He grunted, and winked at Suzanne. "It'll take more than a pool game to get me mad."

Yvonne laughed loudly again, drained her glass, and rummaged in her oversized purse for a cigarette.

"Well, you two be good," she said. "I have to run. See you later."

Suzanne sat, toying with her glass of Coke, conscious that Jeff's eyes were fastened on her. Finally she looked at him almost defiantly.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" he countered.

"I know you've been staring at me."