Kenneth Dylan: Orgy Afternoon

As she drove the brand-new convertible through the big gates, Linda Carter knew that she should be very happy. But the feeling of restlessness and excitement that had been alive in her gorgeous body for some time now was throbbing and racing in her being and she could not imagine what was wrong.

She and Bruce had been married for a year. She adored her handsome young husband, and she loved being the very rich Mrs. Bruce Carter III, but even that was not enough anymore. Something was missing and she had to find out what it was.

She pulled up and parked the new car in front of the garages. She was glad that she would not have to listen to all of the good wishes that servants would ordinarily force upon her just because she had a new car. She had told Bruce early in their marriage that she wanted to do her own work and run her own house and Bruce had not argued with her. He never argued with her. Whatever she wanted to do was fine with Bruce.

It was a lazy spring morning and she wished that Bruce could be at home with her for the day, but he had taken the Cessna upstate and he would be busy for most of the day. And when he got home they would shower and change and dine in town and then go looking for something interesting to do.

For some reason, she remembered the morning that she had picked up the hitchhiker and just thinking about that made her skin prickle and she could feel a warmth and inner excitement building up in her loins and that delighted her.

She went into the big, tastefully furnished house that Bruce had inherited from his folks and as she paused for a moment, gazing around her, admiring the beauty of her expensive furnishings, she felt the hot, trickling sensations between her legs and she knew that she had progressed too far. She would have to do something about the burning, seething passions that were alive and bursting in her body now.

For some reason, she was changing. She turned on so easily now, arid often had to do something drastic about her blazing loins and fulminating crotch. But, she had now reached the point where she could enjoy what she had to do. Masturbation had no fears for her anymore; she simply used the long, slender vibrator where it would do the most good and spent hours at that sort of thing.

She was nineteen now and Bruce was twenty-three. She was sure that their sex life was dull, unimaginative, and decidedly unsatisfactory.

They had been married for about six months and Bruce had been off on one of his frequent trips. She had gone into town to do some shopping and on the way home she had seen the handsome young man thumbing on the highway so she stopped and let him get into the car.

He was very good-looking, sort of tall and well built. But he was a mouse, a meek and mild young man and his clothes were awful and he was undoubtedly a high school dropout. He was very much impressed by her and when she gave him a big smile and one of her cigarettes, he told her, blushing charmingly, that she was the most beautiful young girl he had ever seen. He was sure that she should be a movie star, he said. She was so much prettier than any that he had seen so far.

That pleased her very much. She knew, of course, that she was very pretty.After all, there had been so many people telling her how lovely she was all of her life. During her high school days she had learned how intensely boys could react to her blonde, Nordic beauty and she took very good care of her person.

Her figure had developed beautifully. She had lovely, firm young breasts that jutted from her chest, sharply pointed bullets of bewitching flesh, and the coral-tipped rosettes and nipples were things of exquisite beauty and sensitivity. Her legs were glorious, everyone said, and her cute little rump was an absolute delight to see, according to Bruce. She was all pink and gold and glorious; a luscious girl and she was aware of it.

The hitchhiker told her that his name was Bernie and he was from the East and was going West to find a job and settle down.

"You must meet all kinds of people when you hitchhike," she said, smiling at him, knowing that she was dazzling him, turning him on, too.

"Sure do, ma'am," he said.

He crushed the cigarette she had given him, then sat back against the cushions. She could see that he was staring at her long, pretty legs, liking what he saw. She could tell quite easily and in her miniskirt and pantyhose she had lots of leg exposed for him to see.

"I guess you run into a lot of sex fiends, too, don't you?" she said conversationally.

The young man shivered and when he turned to look at her she could see that he was blushing. He was just too young and too naive to dissemble so he told her the truth.

"The men are the worst," he said. "I got a ride last night with a big truck driver and he hurt me. He made me do something to him all the while I was riding with him. He made me do it for hours. And I had to swallow it all each time he came."

She stared at the boy and she was suddenly trembling, on fire with raw sexual urges that she could not quite define.

"That's too bad," she said sympathetically.

The boy shrugged and his attitude seemed to suggest that those who hitched rides should accept whatever was thrust upon them. She felt sorry for him and then she felt sorry for herself. She was turned oil more intensely than she had ever been and she knew even before her thoughts crystallized that she was going to take the young man home with her.

Bruce would be away for a few days and she would be alone. They had few friends and the big gates kept unwanted guests out anyway, so she knew that she could have the boy stay with her for as long as she might want.

Her mouth was dry and awkward as she smiled at the boy and began making her pitch.

"Are you hungry, Bernie?" she asked.

He nodded and his smile was young and timid and wistful.

"I'm always hungry," he said.

"Didn't that nasty truck driver feed you, Bernie?" she asked, her smile sparkling at him.

"No, ma'am," Bernie said. "He just wanted me to do you know what. He made me do it to him all night long."

She shook her head and her long blonde hair swirled around her shoulders and she knew that it was an alluring sight to a young male. Bernie was a little pale and when she offered him another cigarette from the pack on the seat between them, he took it and lit it with a shaking hand.

"Bernie," she said crisply, "I've made up my mind. I am going to take you home with me and feed you and see if some of my husband's clothes won't fit you. You can take a shower and clean up and eat and rest. Would you like that?"

His big brown eyes were alive with interest and she thought that he was very good-looking when he smiled.

"That's nice of you, ma'am," he said. "But you better just let me out when you turn off. That will be fine."

"Nonsense," she said firmly. "You just sit still and let me do this. I'm taking you home with me and I don't want to hear one more word out of you about it. You understand?"

She had cowed him and that amazed her. He nodded and he was close to tears.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

She pressed her foot down and the big car raced along in the morning sunlight. When she finally pulled up in front of the big iron gates she could see that her wealth impressed him greatly. She told him how to find the key and unlock the gates and after he locked them again behind them, she teased him a little about what she could do if she chose.

"You see," she said, "if I wanted to keep you a prisoner inside these walls, you would have to stay for as long as I decided. You would be my prisoner. Would you like that? "

He smiled at her, certain that she was just teasing him. She wasn't at all sure that she was teasing him.