Chapter 4

Morning arrived all too soon.

The alarm clock went off, awaking Marleen, and she slowly came around to consciousness with a fuzzy, distant, half-jointed awareness. She turned over, at first curious as to why she was naked and on top of her covers--and then she recalled the previous night, what she had heard and done, and a wash of shame and self-loathing flowed over her. Quickly she padded to her closet and put on a chenille robe, not wanting to be reminded further of her indiscretion by seeing her nakedness openly displayed, and she buttoned the robe all the way down and up to her neck, covering her flesh. Barefoot, trembling and clutching the hem with her hand, she stepped into the livingroom, almost fearful that Wendy would see her like this, and crossed to the kitchen, where she plugged in the percolator.

The apartment was strangely quiet and solemn, the way a tomb might be... she wondered if her daughter was awake yet, then saw that her bedroom door was ajar. She glanced at the clock over the stove: eight-thirty. Wendy was up and gone awfully early, but then that wasn't incredibly unusual, and Marleen didn't worry about it any more than she'd worried about Wendy being out with Clyde the night before. She'd open the store in an hour, and sooner or later Wendy would come home...

She poured herself a cup of steaming hot coffee and sat down, staring stony-eyed at nothing in particular, her thoughts hazy and tormenting. Poor little Wendy; she had no idea what kind of mother she had, and had Marleen caught her masturbating the way she had last night, she'd have made quite a scene. Her shoulders slumped and her head bowed with the knowledge of her self-abuse, and she asked herself over and over the sickening question whether her six years of sexual chasteness had left her so weakened that she had to resort to manipulating her own breasts and vagina for satisfaction, whether she was on the verge of nymphomania, unable to control her emotions...

No, no it was because of David Preston. Not that she blamed her tenant for being the way he was, getting that girl of his up to his room and having her suck his penis... it was because there was something about him which seemed to release all of the locks she'd carefully placed on her body and feelings, and that if she'd heard some other man doing the same thing last night, it wouldn't have affected her anywhere near as strongly... and so for her own sake he'd have to leave at once before things got out of hand. It might not solve everything perfectly, she told herself, but it would be a start. As soon as she saw him, she'd tell him to go.

It was useless to chastise herself further about her masturbation; she couldn't wipe it off the slate of her life. It was done and the best thing to do would be to learn from it, and that she'd have to watch herself more closely in the future, even after David Preston was out bag and baggage. She hated to part with the two hundred dollars he'd given her, but that was a cheap price to pay for her sanity, and she was only lucky that no permanent harm had been done. After all, nobody had seen her finger herself while listening to the nakedly groaning couple next door, and it wasn't very adult of her to torture her mind with childish guilt as if she had been viewed by others. Yes, she said to nobody in particular, yes it was very lucky indeed that Wendy was out on a date last night and didn't know the horror her mother was experiencing...

Wendy awoke an hour earlier than her mother, one of the many times she'd woken during the night. It was useless to try and sleep, she decided, and she wanted to be gone before her mother awoke; she didn't know what she wanted to do, but she knew that she didn't want to face her, not yet, not until she had sorted some of her confusion and resentment out and resolved a few things in her own mind.

She decided to sun herself on the porch, though because of the new tenant she knew that she couldn't go bare-chested as she had been doing, and so she slipped on her magenta colored bikini and her terry-cloth beach robe that came just below her thighs, and silently padded out the apartment door and to the porch. She was deeply troubled by the shattering knowledge that her mother was a sensual and carnal woman, not at all saintly and above the "sins of the flesh" she had warned Wendy to avoid. There was nobody Wendy could turn to, nor was she sure of her own feelings, sensing little save a kind of reeling numbness; not hating, not loving, not really anything but confusion.

She was surprised to see David Preston down in the yard, playing with his dog. He was only in a pair of faded dungarees, and she gasped with admiration at the way the early morning sun rippled across his fine, exposed chest, his muscles firm and his skin copper. God, but that man's built, she thought peripherally, and so confident and virile. Clyde's only a boy compared to him. He was so graceful and lean as he played in barefoot happiness with his large, romping dog, throwing a rubber ball against the fence for it to catch. And the dog was just as magnificent, whipcord taut and large, with a glossy coat that wasn't too hairy and yet gave a shining covering of rich, fur-like texture.

David Preston laughed and King barked joyfully at the exercise as he took the ball from King's massive jaws, and he was about to throw it again when he saw the figure of the lovely young girl on the porch. He stopped, transfixed as the sunlight caught her beauty, her lithe, innocent ripeness. Her terry-cloth robe was untied, because the day was already uncommonly warm, and the creamy down of her smooth skin was displayed, barely covered by the thin strands of her bikini. Her mouth was parted and her teeth slightly bared as she looked down at him, and the sun seemed to focus on the triangle of her petal-like vagina, presenting it to him as if it was an offering there to be taken by his huge, stabbing cock. Her high, inviting globular breasts were barely restrained by the tight top, jutting out like twin hillocks, waiting to be climbed, and legs, so slender, so smoothly curving into her inner thighs and firm buttocks seemed to beg him to step up to her and bury himself between them. His cock strained against his pants as he gazed with increasingly lusting eyes up at the beautiful teenager, his mind devilishly churning with lascivious and devious thoughts as to how best bring her under his control and body...

Suddenly laughing, Wendy held her pose for a moment, thumbs pressed against her slender, sculptured sides, fingers splayed across her belly. "Mr. Preston? What're you doing?"

"Exercising King," he called back. "Come on down."

"All right." She giggled delightedly and disappeared from view, only to appear a few minutes later at the back door. She came across the yard, provocative in her walk and stance without even being aware of her natural sensuality. "Gee, you have a nice dog, Mr. Preston."

"Call him King," he grinned at her as she patted King's head. King lolled his tongue out appreciatively and panted. "And call me David; it's a lot less formal between friends."

"Oh? Are we friends?" she said coyly.

"Aren't we?" He knew this was a game, a teasing game that teenage girls love to play and never mean. He knew it and went along with it. Lose a battle, win the war...

"Sure we are, I guess, David. And I'm Wendy."

"I know. I heard your mother call you yesterday."

"Oh her," she grimaced.

Normally, such a reaction would be expected of a girl, it being no more than the usual unmeant disdain for parents, but Preston caught a deep undercurrent of true feeling behind her casual remark. Being the man he was with his devotion to seduction, he felt that there might be a weak point in which to drive the wedge of his cock; with the jungle instinct of a predatory lion of long experience, he began shaping a plan of attack around that innocuous throwaway comment.

"Where's your girl-friend?" Wendy asked slyly. She hadn't forgotten about the moans and growls of lust which had been emanating from his room while her mother masturbated. That didn't bother her--after all, David was a man, and such things were to be expected of him; her mother was the seed of her anguish. "You know, the blonde one you had in your room last night."

If Wendy had the impression he'd blush like the boys she knew would have, she was mistaken. He threw back his head and laughed uproarishly. "You know about Gloria, then?"

"Sure, the whole block does, you were making so much noise."

"What the hell, can't two people enjoy themselves?"

Wendy changed the subject, feeling it was getting a little too intimate for her; she wanted to escape lewdness, not get more of it. "I thought she'd be over here today with you," she said casually, but she felt her cheeks beginning to burn.

David chuckled, the man catching the blush on her pretty face. "Yeah, she left early to go to her brother's place. She'll be living there, you see."

"Oh..."

"You planning to sun-bathe?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Well... there isn't anything else really to do," she replied. "But I'd sure like to get away from here. You have a car?"

"Gloria's got it."

"Oh, yeah. Gloria."

"Come on, Wendy, she's just a friend. I'm not married to her."

"You sleep with her, don't you?" she blurted out before she'd realized what she'd been thinking. She averted her eyes, angry at herself, and embarrassed at the way David laughed at her again.

What do you know about sex, little lady?"

"More than you think," she said grimly. "More than you think."

He chortled again. David lewdly thought about the pawing, groping hands of the local kids on her tender breasts, and her passion-filled kissing in the drive-in. She was still a virgin; Christ, he could almost smell her quivering little hymen stretched across her cherry cunt... well, if he had his way, she'd sure have a lot of knowledge about sex, straight from his throbbing cock! But he'd have to get her away from here, away from the prying eyes of her mother--another luscious cunt he wasn't forgetting to consider ways and means about--and all the other distractions. Someplace quiet...

"Well, how about the boat?" the older man suggested, thumbing towards the Thompson outboard.

"Heck, I've seen everywhere that's anywhere around the bay, and the boat's not big enough to take out in open water."

"Well, I haven't seen everywhere and anywhere. Show me."

She looked up at him. Why not? A beautiful day, and it would give her something to do, and he was such a nice, understanding and cool guy. He might be over thirty, but he's not square, she thought, nodding her head in sudden agreement. "I'll get the keys," she said.

"And I'll get... some other things," Preston added, grinning with intense pleasure. Some extra special other things...

It had been a very fine suggestion, Wendy thought dreamily some hours later, the day blue-and-white, the sea Lucite clear and of long, low waves. The ride around the bay had been beautiful, the magnificent dog, King, barking at the swooping gulls and frothy spray, and she'd had fun pointing out all the homes and points of view as she stood in front, her hands on the windscreen, letting the salty, tangy breeze blow her hair and cool her skin, while David skillfully maneuvered the boat while sitting alongside her at the controls. Then they'd decided to go someplace and just relax, someplace out of the way and secluded, and she'd liked that idea as well, because she was still disturbed by the events of last night, and wanted a little peace and quiet in which to contemplate.

She knew just the spot, too. The pines were thinned out, allowing a small section of sandy beach about thirty yards long and half as deep--just enough to drop anchor and wade ashore and relax on the sand, alone and unsullied, the world going by without noticing them. She lay back on the towel, the warm rays baking her, feeling the nearness of the older man next to her, but not caring, not afraid... King slept in the shade, but ready should he be needed.

Preston sat up, stretching and yawning. "I could go for a cigarette. You want one?"

"No, no thank you."

"You don't smoke?"

"Well... sometimes." She didn't want to act unsophisticated in front of him, make him think she was a child or something. "Okay," she nodded impulsively.

He grinned at her and stretched himself so he could reach into his pocket for his pack. They were odd looking, she thought as he handed her one. Loose, with a funny brown-colored, shaggy tobacco. He saw her hesitation and explained: "They're Mexican, Wendy. I got them down there. Mild, but lots of flavor. That's what you smoke for, isn't it?"

"Yeah, sure... I guess so." She placed one in her mouth and cupped his hand as he lit it with his lighter. She inhaled, and was pleased to find out that he was right, that the cigarette was peculiar smelling but very tasty, sort of sweetish, in fact. But a small tendril of giddiness hit her, in spite of their mildness, and suddenly the ocean was a different color of blue. "Whoo! They're sure different, all right, but I like them."

"I thought you would," the man said insidiously. He thought to himself that this girl must be awfully stupid and very ignorant not to know that she wasn't smoking Mexican cigarettes, but marijuana. Hell, he'd never even been to Mexico. He watched her carefully as she smoked, keeping her mind off what she was doing automatically by a constant patter of lively jokes and remarks, making her giggle and her eyes sparkle and her lungs inhale the curling fog of the euphoric drug...

Slowly and without her realizing it, the young teenager began to fall under its magic spell, making her feel free, uncaring, devil-take-the-hindmost. She felt warm comradeship to David now, grabbing his arm as he told jokes and she laughed, giving him side-long glances of provocativeness, loving the world and herself and wanting him to like her as well. Wendy rested her chin on her drawn-up knees and dreamily leaned against David Preston to let him know that she was enjoying the day, and his company... and the delicious illusion festered by the marijuana he continually gave her pervaded her slim, untouched body, giving her a tingling sensation deep inside, so deep that she couldn't imagine its bottom.

"Oh, I don't want ever to leave here, David," she said.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to go home. My mother--" She caught herself just before she was going to tell all about what she'd seen. She put her hand to her mouth in a gesture of silence.

"Go on, what about her?"

"I can't tell you."

"You should tell somebody, Wendy. I can see you've been very upset and worried about something, and that's no good."

"You did?" she asked thickly. "It's not?"

"No," he answered smoothly, "it's not. And it was obvious that you've been bothered all night, because when you came downstairs this morning, you were almost shaking." She hadn't, but it was a good lie at the moment, and he knew that she wasn't in any condition to think rationally about this morning and contradict; she shook her head in agreement.

"Well, I have been, but it's not a nice subject. It's about... sex!" She said the last word in a hushed, excited tone, her eyes wide. "Sex, you know?"

"Yeah, I know, Wendy," Preston said. "But everybody has sex lives--you, me, your mother--and there's no use trying to hide the fact or pretending it doesn't exist." He felt her shoulders trembling, and he placed a protective arm around her, patting her other shoulder like a father would. "Go ahead and spill it, Wendy. I'm not going to spread it around, and you can't keep it bottled up inside you forever."

The marijuana-induced freedom lowered her gates of natural reluctance, just as if she'd been drinking all afternoon. She felt hot tears brim in her eyes, and while she felt silly for bursting into crying, she couldn't stop herself, feeling doubly all of the bitter emotions she'd been nagged with since she'd been almost de-virginated by Clyde Brooks. Haltingly, letting the whole confession pour out unstopped and uncensored, she lay bare her innermost heart, telling Preston in a babbling, choking slur about everything.

It didn't take much imagination for the man beside her to unravel her distorted and unconnected train of thought, and an excited glow flickered into his eyes, and the stirrings of lewd and excited passions boiled in the pit of his belly. Hot damn! Her mother fingering herself off while listening to me get sucked by Gloria! That only shows that the old lady is hot to trot for cock, especially, if her kid is right, she hasn't had a steady man around for six years. God, I'd burst apart if I didn't get my balls emptied for half that time! And this little virgin teenager, who's a virgin just as I thought, almost got some cock rammed into her last night, only leave it to some inexperienced kid to get over-anxious and ruin the pitch... But I won't screw things up. This one is as good as fucked right now...

Finished her agonizing story, Wendy pressed her face tightly against his cheek and cried softly, and in a muffled voice, said: "Oh, David, I'm so miserable. I don't know what to do!"

"Wendy, tell me something. Did you enjoy seeing your mother playing with herself?"

"What? No, no, I just told you--"

"Come on, tell the truth. You watched her for a long time, not doing anything, and if you were excited, you shouldn't be ashamed of it. Watching people having sex is almost as much fun as doing it."

"You... you sound as if you approve of what she did!" Wendy broke away in horror. "As if... As if you think that everybody ought to have their kicks any way they please!"

Preston shrugged, gazing at her through lidded eyes. "No, I'm saying that we ought to be honest with one another. If two people--or in the case of your mother--one person--enjoy what they're doing, who are you to castigate them? Sex is good, clean fun, and it can't hurt anybody, only make people closer."

"You... you mean like me and Clyde last night? I... I should have let him do it to me?"