Chapter 1

The flies were the worst of the many indignities. Even the odors of decayed fish from the nearby wharves, and the sharp, acrid smell of male urine from the pissoir outside her window, had become part of the accepted background. She was aware that her own body had begun to add to the aroma. Next to the flies, she hated more than all the rest to feel the acute needs of her unwashed body.

She tried to shift her position, but the bonds which kept her spread-eagled on the soiled bed linen were not loose enough to permit much movement. She looked down through the valley of her proud young breasts, over the creamy flat tummy and the blonde curls of her womanly forest, to the iron rails at the foot of the bed. The ropes which secured her ankles were tied to the two corner posts.

The shifting movement had caused a little chafing, but her ankles didn't bother her as much as her wrists. She couldn't see them but she could imagine the red rawness of the skin from the burning sensations. Yet, this misery paled by comparison with the flies.

The insects, which had awakened her by crawling over the damp stickiness of her exposed vulva had flown away as she moved. She knew she would have to move repeatedly to keep them away. She tried to scream past the gag in her mouth, but the only sound it inside was in her own head, where the pressure was so great, that she gave up.

If only the La Jolla crowd could see her now! Darla Fleming, princess of the tennis courts, pacesetter of the flashy younger set, untouchable virgin with a reputation for semi-frigidity! If she had only given herself to Jeff, or Alan! She choked back a sob, knowing from bitter experience how much more miserable she'd be if she let herself start crying with that gag in her mouth.

Some flies had returned to feast in the forest of her sticky golden curls. She rolled her hips, and the movement made all but one stubborn insect buzz off. She could feel it moving across the moist outer lips, then into the slit of her sensitive inner lips. She thrust her hip upward, and it flew out and away, joining one of the groups of its fellows hovering in the air, or crawling on the many unclean surfaces in the shabby room.

The perspiration was gathering on her skin, and it added to the discomfort and to the closeness of the room, as if the June warmth and the humidity of the harbor area weren't enough.

She tried to take her thoughts off her misery, to get away from the unendurable present. Not daring to think of what might lie in the immediate future, she could only dwell on the past. And the most immediate experiences of the last two days were so luridly etched in her memory that they flashed past her all too slowly.

The sights and sounds of Marseilles were novel and intriguing to Darla Fleming. Her four years of French were just enough to add spice to the adventure. She and her mother did all the translating and interpreting for the family. Daddy Chuck's meager vocabulary, acquired in the latter part of World War II, was almost completely lost, and Tommy had chosen Spanish for his language courses. Well, little brother was anxious to do the honors when they got to Spain. He insisted that he didn't care much for the French.

At nineteen, Darla was in full flower. Her luscious body and charming personality were almost the exact replica of her mother at the same age. But her goals were different. Ann Fleming had become a bride at seventeen, marrying Charles Eldon Fleming II in 1946, the week after his separation from the army. Captain Fleming and his bride were a handsome couple, and Darla enjoyed looking at the old photographs in the numerous albums at home.

Darla wanted a few more years of freedom before committing her entire life and responsibilities to another. She had her hands full with the young males of her acquaintance, finding it difficult to convince them of her true wishes for non-involvement.

But underneath, the juices of her flowering womanhood ran swiftly and warm. She knew her susceptibility to the healthy maleness of her friends, and took great care to avoid temptations. She blushed when she thought of how she had been aroused even by her own father, on several occasions. Well, she knew better than to blame herself for that. The constant denial of her womanly desires increased her sensitivities It was no wonder that being embraced by a proud and loving father could stir her unreasonably.

Especially a virile man like Daddy Chuck. Even now, at 42, he was more man than many of his juniors. Darla had seen numerous females make a play for the handsome industrialist. His six-one frame was in trim condition, only ten pounds heavier than he'd been in those wedding photos. And he still satisfied the constant hungers of his loyal wife.

Darla recalled all too clearly the scene she had witnessed by accident only a week before the trip started. At 1:30 in the morning, she had been unable to sleep, and decided to take a swim The warm evening and the high walled security of the Fleming estate had lulled her normal precautions, and she simply tossed a shorty-short terry cloth robe on her naked body, and went across the patio to the pool. Bare footing over the cool concrete, she had stopped short at the sight of her parents on the huge canvas pad at the far side of the big pool. The five-foot, eight-inch length of her mother's ripe body lay in serene repose on the mat, elegant in the creamy skin which glowed under the bright moonlight.

From her shadowed vantage point, Darla watched as her equally naked father knelt at Ann's feet. His short, brown hair glinted in the moonlight, and Darla could see bright droplets of water on his muscular body. Obviously, her parents had decided on a midnight swim, believing her to be in bed. Tommy wasn't due home from college until the weekend.

Daddy Chuck's hands took the slim ankles and moved them aside and upward. He went forward, and his face pushed into the valley of Ann's lovely breasts. Darla's breath caught as she watched the kisses he bestowed on the creamy mounds. Her own full globes ached as she watched him nibbling and tonguing the peaks, and she felt her nipples distend in sympathetic passion.

A mild guilt feeling tried to move her away from the scene. It was a private thing, between a man and a woman. What's more, it was her own father and mother. But her hungry body was tingling with its own fevers, and in the self-imposed restrictions of her young life, this was the only direct sexual play she had ever encountered. It was too much for her susceptibilities. She moved quietly and stealthily along the shadowed edges of the tall shrubs which surrounded the end of the pool. She didn't stop until she was behind the bush nearest the canvas pad.

She was only a few yards from the damp bodies, and she could hear her mother's low, purring sounds, and the wet, lapping sounds of her father's tongue and lips. He had moved down, now, across the sleek belly into the blonde, feathery curls be low.

Darla knelt in the grass, her hands clutching her fevered breasts, fingering the swollen nipples frantically. She saw the creamy tanned thighs open wide, and one of the feet, with its neatly pedicured nails pointed right at Darla's hiding place.

Chuck Fleming's lips and tongue were searching tenderly among the blonde curls, and Darla knew he had found what he sought when Ann's purring sounds became a louder, continuous moan, and the full hips rose from the pad. Ann's hands reached down and grasped the brown curls of her lover's head, pulling the ministering mouth tighter to her damp, heated flesh.

He's eating her cunt! Darla thought to herself. My God! That must feel wonderful. The girl dropped one hand from its clutching, squeezing movements at her breast. It sought the blonde jungle at the juncture of her quivering thighs. Her fingers parted the wet lips, and began to massage the stiff little bud of her passion.

Oh-h! I wish it were me! To have those lips and that tongue in my cunt would drive me wild! Darla's hand was covered now with the hot liquid of her passion's lubricant. Her breath was labored, and a jellylike weakness was creeping through her thighs and loins.

"Chuck! Oh, lover, drink me! Drink me dry!" Ann's trembling voice on Darla's ears excited her even more. She saw the wiggling hips moving in spasms as the climax built. Then a shuddering jerk of the moonlit body gave Darla the knowledge that her mother had found release. At that moment, her own orgasm began, and she shook under the intensity of its effect on her body.

Darla took her weight off one knee, and moved her thighs close together. It squeezed her hand in place, nestling it tight in the sloppy, swollen lips, and maintaining a glowing feeling with its pressure on her most sensitive spot.

Chuck had changed his position, and Darla could see the rigid tool of his loving art. The three-quarter view afforded her all too clearly a complete awareness of what took place.

Ann's thighs were drawn back and even farther apart, now. The gleaming pink meat of her womanhood was vulnerably spread wide, and Darla could see the juices flowing down it. Then Chuck's body hid the pulsing love-mouth as he positioned himself over his wife.

Darla moved quietly to place herself in another position, not able to make herself leave, knowing that she had to see everything. Then she watched as the purplish pink head of the rigid lance lay lightly in the wet lips Ann's hips raised, and Chuck's hips went forward. The shaft buried itself in the depths, and the sight of its hairy luggage swinging against the wet portals below it was too much for Darla.

Again, she worked feverishly in the sloppy heat of her crotch. Now, the anxious massage seemed not enough. As she watched the slow strokes of the plunging rod, she thrust a finger of her other hand into the tightness of her own virginal passage. The pain almost made her cry out, but she retained enough awareness in the midst of her extreme passion to bite back the sound.

She gave up the attempt, afraid of betraying her presence, and contented herself with massaging her hard bud and rolling her nipples-first one, then the other-between the fingers of her other hand.

Oh-h! If just watching can do this to me, what would it toe like to have a wonderful prick like that inside me? It looked so good, I almost crawled over there and put it in my mouth! My God! What kind of a nymphomaniac am I, anyhow? Her breath was sobbing in her throat as she worked her fingers in the slippery swollen meat of her nether lips.

Then she watched her father cease his plunging, grab her mother's buttocks, and press hard against her. Ann's husky voice was pleading.

"Fuck me deep, Chuck! Ohhhhhh! Now! Squirt the goodies in me! My cunt's so hungry for you!" The coarse words from the normally refined and quiet woman seemed to excite her husband tremendously. He cried out softly, and his buttocks squeezed together.

Darla had all she could do to keep from crying out herself, as she watched his muscles spasm, knowing that he was pumping some delightfully exciting elixir into the hot, female depths. She smothered her sounds as she moaned softly to herself, feeling the huge wave of heat tear through her body. A warm extra flow of juice poured over her hand, and she fell over backward and lay, trembling in the cool grass.

It was lucky that Chuck and Ann took their time about getting up off the mat. Darla's legs were like water as she tried to get to her feet, and they barely supported her as she slipped through the shadows back to the house. By the time she reached the French windows of her room, and entered, little streams of fluid were running down both thighs, tickling the sensitive skin.

She rushed into her shower and bathed quickly, ending up with a cold needle-spray. It seemed to help calm her down.

But, lying in bed, afterward, she kept seeing the actions she had witnessed, and before she realized it was happening, her hand was again seeking the heated and swollen lips. When she found how slippery and wet they had become from those recalled sights, she gave up all hope of restraint, and worked herself through another fevered climax, until she lay spent, panting for breath. Then she had to shower all over again.

Recalling the shameful episode had affected her strongly, Darla knew. She could feel the flow of her juices running down the crevice of her crotch, and wetting her tense anus before it added to the stains on the soiled linen. She twitched her hips and moved upward to shake off the flies, again, and to try to relieve the hot, tingling feeling around her genitals.

She fought back the sobs again, as she remembered how she had spied on her parents that night. They were wonderful parents. The mother who was so like her daughter in appearance, and apparently in passion, and the handsome, virile, accomplished father, who was so proud of his girls. She remembered how pleased he was the other morning~was it only two days ago?

They had left the hotel and started to see the sights of Marseilles. They intended to spend only two days there, until Chuck could make contact with a French competitor whose firm he considered buying to merge with his owes European company.

Darla and Ann were dressed exactly alike, in matching blouses and miniskirts, even to the sexy little boots. Chuck walked between them, and his pride in their beauty was evident to all who looked, including the girls themselves.

Tired as they were when they returned to the hotel, they were laughing and full of enjoyment from the novelty of the visit. Tommy had awakened from a nap in his room, and had joined them for a few minutes before going off on his own to look up a friend who had been an exchange student at his school.

Then Chuck and Ann flaked out in their room, and Darla rested for a short while. But she became restless, and decided to take a walk in the little park she could see from her window. She left a note on her table, and headed for the cool-looking greenery.