Miriam screwed her nakedly upraised buttocks back hard against the squirting cock in her cunt, and with a scream from between her tightly clenched teeth, she felt her own body explode into what seemed like a thousand tiny pieces. Her legs could no longer hold her up, and she collapsed on the mat as the penis slid limply from her semen and orgasm drenched pussy, the room's fetid air rushing warmly into the unplugged opening.
"Jesus, now I wanna fuck'er again…!" young Mark Trenton gasped, and time after that became a meaningless blur, a constant merging of virile boy's cocks fucking her as they would and where they would. Her body reacted with orgasm after orgasm, even after her strength was gone and she could only follow their directions mechanically.
"Get those legs up! Move that ass, teacher! Suck me harder, Mrs. Dodge!"
She felt as though she was nothing more than a fleshy robot for their use, weakly moving her limbs to comply with their lewd commands. Finally, many long hours later, they dressed, Joey unlocked the storage-room door and the three boys left her where she lay. Miriam was too worn out to move, and she fell into an exhausted sleep on the soiled, stained mattress that would forever be her bed of shame and surrender to the lowest depths of desire of the flesh.
CHAPTER FIVE
Roger Trenton was not a drinking man per se. A martini before dinner or a bottle of wine during the meal, but not both – otherwise, he was apt to lose too much control over his reasoning and will-power. As he thought in self-torture, he had last Saturday with Miriam on the picnic… But here it was Saturday again, and he was sitting at two o'clock in the afternoon with his third brandy-and-soda in his hand, and feeling quite drunk…
The sadly contemplative biology instructor had been maudlin all week, plagued with feelings of doubt and guilt over what had taken place up in the hills with the English teacher from school. Damn! He was such a fool! He'd wanted her almost from the first time they'd met, his loins firing with sexual need every moment they were together. With an experienced man's instinct for such things, he felt she was as attracted to him as he was to her; and more, she was as sensual as she was provocative. Considering what he thought she was like, he couldn't blame her for reacting like a feline in heat to him – but neither could he be angered over her sudden switch back to modesty. Who could respect a woman otherwise? Christ, she was a voluptuous, curvaceous female; but so was a whore. He wanted a woman who was sensitive to affection and discerning in her choice of men, as well as being beautiful to look at.
Roger sighed, scratching the head of his large German Shepherd dog beside him before taking another deep swallow of his drink. Christ, if his blatant pressuring hadn't shocked Miriam enough, his impulsive proposal for marriage must have really jolted her. Hell, it had jolted him! What had ever possessed him to ask such a thing? Did he love the blonde-haired English teacher, or was it merely a bad case of the "hots" for her? Well, until he'd made love to her he wouldn't know if he was in love with her…
He smiled thinly at the idea. He'd had all sorts of dirty dreams lately about fucking Miriam half to death, but he could see plainly that he wouldn't get another chance to score with her soon the way things were going. He'd sat down with one brandy-and-soda in an effort to calm his misgivings about seeing her again. He'd had no thought in mind about getting drunk, but as he'd mulled over the way Miriam had obviously avoided him all week, he had allowed the one drink to flow into a second, and then into this third. It was past two o'clock in the afternoon already; he was late for his date with her; and at the rate he was swallowing the brandy, he might not get there at all.
Last Saturday, she'd told him not to apologize any more, but he knew that she was still upset and troubled, and he figured it had to be over his stupid actions then. A half-dozen times during the school week he had set out for her office after one of his classes to say once again that he was sorry, but something of pride always seemed to stop him halfway there. What bothered him were her so-called "reasons" she'd refused to give, and all her crap that they did not concern him. Horsepucky! If her reasons, whatever they were, were stronger than her affection, then she was obviously not that interested in him. Why the hell should he be crawling around on his knees? She wanted to keep their relationship at a distance, then damn it, he would treat her as an object, not as a woman whose feelings must be considered!
"Right, Buck?" he said to his German Shepherd. "You don't give a damn if the bitch is a collie or a husky, so long's you can climb on her and stick it in her hole, right?"
The dog barked as if he understood, and wagged his tail thumpingly against the floor.
"But Miriam is a human being, I'm afraid," Roger Trenton sighed regretfully. He sank back in his chair with his drink pressed to his lips. Sure, he could get as righteous as he wanted to, but he knew deep down he was only kidding himself. Miriam was much too beautiful a person for him not to be more tender and understanding toward her. He was acting overly impatient, considering he'd known her less than a month. Perhaps in time, if she was willing to open into a warm, intimate relationship with him, they could find a mutual, shared love and trust…
"D-Dad?" an anxious young voice called to him.
"Mark?" His father turned around in his chair to survey the boy embarrassingly standing a short ways away. All of Roger's thoughts about Miriam evaporated with one look at his stricken child, for he saw the pain in his expression and the puffy rings around his eyes. "Why, Mark, you've been crying!"
"Yeah, I… guess I have been," Mark replied, his chin trembling as he tried to hold back a fresh stream of tears.
In spite of his mind feeling velvety from all the liquor he'd consumed, Roger was immediately concerned. He'd been both father and mother to the boy for so long that there was nothing he wouldn't do to help him. He straightened up and said: "Come here, son. Something's bothering you."
"You… you won't get mad at me? No matter what?" the boy said in a fearful whisper, taking a hesitant step forward.
"Hey, don't mink that, son. We've been too close for you to believe such a thing. I'm your pal, remember? What happened? You flunk a test?"
"Ohhh," Mark suddenly burst into tears, and he crushed his young body to his father, almost upsetting the brandy glass on the table. "Oh, Dad, I've done something awful!" The youth was a quivering, guilt-ridden soul. He hadn't slept a wink all night, constantly thinking of how he'd left poor Mrs. Dodge sprawled naked and her legs wide open back in the gym. How could he have allowed such a thing to happen when he loved her so much? Now he'd hurt her, and he didn't know what to do or where to turn except to his father. It had taken most of the day to screw up enough courage to tell of what he'd done, but he had to do it and hope his dad wouldn't hate him or turn him over to the police. He couldn't go on living feeling this bad, not another day!
Roger was terribly upset over his son's behavior. His first off-hand guess that Mark was troubled over school work was wrong, he could see – besides, his child was too level-headed for that. He tried to recall his own teenaged days and what had been the source of his problems, and recalled that they had almost entirely been over puppy-loves. Well, Mark was growing up; it was time for him to experience some of the agonies of budding sex.