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CHAPTER ONEJoyce felt funny. She'd been away from Warren too long, and strange things were happening inside her body. She didn't understand what they were, but she was in great distress.She was restless.Her upper legs itched.Occasionally she broke out in a sweat.She was cranky.Joyce needed something.She hardly heard the droning voice as a pimple-faced girl named Mary Ann Waitkus read a few paragraphs from The Red Badge of Courage.God knew it was a small enough book; but if all the sophomores were as dull as this child, they'd be all semester finding out which side won the Civil War.Joyce sat at her desk, facing the class. She'd not liked the desk from the first day of school, but old Mr. Frankel hadn't been able to find her a desk that wasn't the see-through style. Joyce doubted that Mr. Frankel tried very hard, because he seemed bent on making her uncomfortable. He was doing a good job of it.She squirmed, careful to keep her knees together. Lord, but she was uncomfortable. California wasn't all that warm, but she'd never felt quite this way back in Nebraska. She'd never been away from Warren this long, either; and that one night in bed with him before they'd parted had been a terrible mistake.Joyce eased the center desk drawer open and plucked a Kleenex from the pink box. She wiped her lips and then her palms, before wadding the tissue and dropping it into a wastebasket to one side.She saw the boy looking at her again when she raised her eyes to scan the class.The semester was hardly a month along, but she knew his name well enough. Walter Bogg. He was a big lout of a boy with a long face marked by a cruel chin and insolent eyes. He was a classic discipline problem-poor scholar, bored, unwilling to study, difficult to handle ... and something else.They hadn't told Joyce about high school boys like Walter Bogg when she'd been at State Teachers College. She was almost afraid of him because of the way he would smirk at her, just daring her to make another scene. He was smirking now.Joyce frowned and shook her head almost imperceptibly, her eyes dropping to the book she held.He got her message clearly enough, but he was not going to obey. He kept on smirking while a finger dug into his left nostril.Joyce was afraid she was going to become sick again. She was that angry, that frustrated.She looked at Mary Ann and then at the clock. There was still fifteen minutes before the hellish hour was up, then she'd have a free period. She wouldn't wait to give him hell on her own time. This was her moment to strike back.Joyce stood."Thank you, Mary Ann," she interrupted. "That will do for today. Class, I'm going to dismiss you early; but I want you all to go to the library and find something by Crane or others who wrote about the terrors of the Civil War. I'll expect a report from each of you, one hundred words by the time we meet tomorrow."She knew that less than half of the class would do the assignment. They didn't care, especially the blacks. She had a half dozen of them in her class; and she'd been unable to motivate them, despite the fine new ideas they'd given her at college.Walter Bogg's reaction to her assignment was loud enough for her to hear, even though he always sat in the back row."Fuck that noise," he rasped to another giant of a boy who sat across the aisle. "I ain't gonna spend the rest of the day in the goddamn lib.. . ""Walter Bogg!"Her voice broke as she snapped the word so that it came from her lips as more of a desperate sob than anything else. Her chin worked as she struggled to keep it from crumpling.The class froze, half in and half out of their seats, their books motionless in the act of being scooped into their arms. It was like a wax museum, except that these people were alive and anticipating some sort of a confrontation.Only Walter Bogg shuffled all the way to his feet."Ma'am...?" he drawled, collecting a laugh from several of the boys."I won't have that kind of talk in my English class. I want you to march straight into Mr. Farr's office, and tell him what you said here."Her face was hot, and red splotches were appearing on her neck.God, she hated being so helpless! Why did she hate him so ... or was it all really hate?"Shit!" he snapped. "I'm on my way home. Pa wants me to help him work on the truck transmission."Joyce quivered, her knees shaking."Class, leave at once-except for you, Walter. You stay right where you are."Walter stared at her, his lips still twisted in a smirk.The class was curious, but the young people shuffled toward the door as they whispered. Their eyes darted back and forth, and Joyce knew they all wanted to stay to see what would happen.Two or three of Walter's cronies hung back until he waved his hand, then said:"You guys go ahead. I'll see you out front. This won't take long."Joyce was rooted at the side of her desk, the knuckles of her right hand jammed against the top so that she wouldn't lose her balance and fall. She kept her chin in the air, and her lips made a firm red line.At last they were gone, and she went to the door and flipped up the rubber stop so that it hissed closed. She pulled the blind over the small window that looked out on the corridor, then she turned and looked at him.He was still by his desk, slumping against it, his hands on his hips.Joyce kept her back against the door, as she said:"Well, Walter...?" "Well, what?" he drawled."When are we going to come to terms? It can't go on this way. You'll never get through to your junior year. I've tried as best I can..."His laugh stopped her. Shaking his head, he sauntered to the front of the room and sat at her desk. Casually he began opening drawers, poking his hands into them, examining books, papers, and a few of her private things. He took out her purse and placed it on the desk.She started toward him, her finger pointed and accusing."Get your hands off my things!"Outrage washed over her again, and she wished she had the strength to kill.She stopped a few feet from the desk, unwilling to touch him. Something was happening inside her. She hated him, but she was curiously stunned and helpless at the sight of his hands snapping open her purse. Her jaw worked and her fingers were clenched into fists as she stood rooted.He poked through the purse, pulling our her compact, comb, car keys, and then the letter.He smirked, then said:"Shit, I thought I might find a Kotex in here, Joyce.""Don't you dare call me by my first name, Walter Bogg!" she gasped.He stared up, looking as though he couldn't believe her words."What the fuck you talking about? I can call my mama an old cunt if I want. Pa don't care. Why should you?"Cunt. Fuck. Shit. The. boy knew all the filthy words whose meanings Joyce hadn't known until she'd gone to college. Her stern parents had never allowed her to be around people who used such language or, if they had their way, around people who thought such thoughts.This meant that she'd seen very little of boys, because boys everywhere thought those words. She knew that now. She'd found that out in college.Warren wasn't that kind, of course; but she'd allowed him to lead her to bed. Lead her to bed! She couldn't bring herself to admit he'd just plain fucked her.She moved her knees, because her thighs were burning. This confrontation, the thoughts of Warren, the sight of this filthy lout opening the envelope of her private letter-it did something to her body. She needed some release, or she'd begin to scream. That would create a public scene she could never bear.He was reading the letter."Who's Warren?" he asked, without raising his eyes."None of your business! Get away from my desk.""Hmm ... all the way from New York, but he remembers back home in Nebraska. Sounds like him and you had a high old time. Find anybody here to take his place?"Joyce grimaced, unable to speak. She was again gripping the side of the desk."I bet you been without any nookie for maybe a month or two. That ain't natural, Joyce."He dropped the letter and stood, taking a step toward her.She glanced quickly toward the door, realizing it was locked, since she'd released the inside catch. She could get out, but nobody could walk in on them."Forget the door. You and me are gonna talk about my problem ... and your problem. You got a worse problem than me, teacher. You got a burning pussy, and I can put out the fire.""You conceited fool!" she hissed. "Get out of here at once! If you touch me, I'll scream so loud they'll hear it all the way down to the principal's office.""No, you won't. You won't make any noise at all. You need me, lady, and you're gonna get me right now."She opened her mouth; and, in less than a second, his hand was clapped over it, stinging her, stifling her, except for a few anguished gurgles'. His other arm went around her waist; and when she reached back to. paw at his grip, he caught her wrists in his heavy fingers. Her arms were trapped behind her back as surely as though she wore handcuffs.She struggled, but her movements were not strong. She felt drained of the will to resist.He was still smirking as though he'd expected it all along."See? I knew you wanted this. You're going crazy because I got a hold of you, huh? You eat it up. You got a hot twat, and you can't wait to be pronged."He removed his hand from her mouth; and she opened her lips at once, forming them for a cry of alarm. But no sound came forth. Instead, her mouth twisted and crumpled."I hate you!" she hissed. "I'll see that you're expelled and thrown in jail for this.""You'll see nothing, except a few pounds of raw dong." He chuckled with a sick sound deeply in his throat. "Go ahead and scream. You'll look like a damned fool when they come in here and find nothing wrong. Why don't you relax and enjoy it? You know what you want, and I sure as hell been wantin' it ever since the first day I sat down in this room.""You're an animal!""So are you, baby. We're all animals. Admit you can't wait to be serviced. You want me to give it to you."She struggled again, but his hand locked over her wrists in a fresh grip. Still, she didn't cry out. It would be too much, too dramatic. She wanted to scream, but something stopped her. That same little voice had been telling her air along that something was wrong, that her body wasn't normal.His face hovered an inch from hers, and she stared up into his dark eyes. His face was massive, and his straight black hair hung over his forehead and almost down to his collar over his ears. He seemed almost like a thyroid case, with his long jaw and massive teeth.She could see the dark bristles on his chin and the pores, some of them harboring blackheads. He'd had acne at one time, and there were a few scars remaining that had not yet lost their angry red. His eyes were dark pools, deeper than anything she'd ever seen. He was a much stronger person than Warren.Dear Warren! Weak as he was, she wished she had him with her now.Again she struggled, but his hand was like a vise. His eyes looked down her writhing body, and her eyes followed as she paused.She wore a crisp white blouse and a lightweight skirt. Her collar was open at the throat; and she knew he could see down to the tops of her breasts, down where her mounds first divided to form their jutting twin hills. She was thankful that she wore a bra. She always had, but many of her friends at college and some of the teachers at West High did not."You got knockers, Joyce-I'll say that for you.You might not know what it's for, but you got a body to set a guy nuts." He licked his lips. "But I think you do know what it's all about. I'm gonna show you the fine points."She wiggled again, and her hip ran into his loins. She felt his stiffened cock jabbing against his jeans and against her thigh like a steel bar.Lord, she thought, he must have the equipment of a farm stallion!He pushed her back, and his eyes went farther down her body."Hmm, good crotch and hips. The engine room is important, Joyce. That's where the power comes from. You got a fine ass too, and good long legs. I'd say you must be pushing five-ten, huh? They grow 'em big back in the corn country."She made a sound of disgust as he laughed; and then his free hand went into action, swiftly so that she could do nothing more than suck in deep breaths to keep from fainting. He was pawing her breasts, cupping one and then the other.For some reason, she hoped he wouldn't leave grimy finger marks on her clean blouse; but she needn't have worried.He was unbuttoning her, as he said:"Let's just open this little old shirt, honey, so we can let those babies inside have a little air. Okay?"She closed her eyes as she swallowed. "God," she blurted, "please give me some strength!"But she was powerless. Her struggles were only a token effort. She had to work to keep her knees from giving way."Come on, lady-straighten up and fly right," he rasped into her ear.She could feel his breath on her hair, and a fresh wave of dizziness rocketed through her.She choked as he parted her blouse and his fingers jerked it from her waist. She followed his eyes as he spread the blouse to her ribs and stared. Her breasts seemed larger, filling her pink bra cups until they were in danger of spilling over the tops.As she sucked air, they heaved in and out, the cleavage between them growing ever deeper. They ached, and the pain was sweet and delicious. She found herself wanting to touch them, to massage them. Or, better yet ... no!"My, God, so you really do wear one of them harness things," he snorted. "I thought all of you liberated broads gave them up. You really are right off the farm." He licked his lips again. "Looks like they're filled with goodies, though. All the guys thought you had real ones. I wasn't sure but what they might be fake."For an instant, Joyce resented his accusation. Her wearing falsies, indeed! It was out of the question. The Remington women had always been well endowed. Her mother, her grandmother, and as far back as anybody knew. The women were tall on both sides of the family-tall and straight and beautiful, their fair skin and hair glowing over the flat farmlands."I guess we're ready for the main event," he said, in a low voice.Joyce glanced toward the door and then at him."Let me go. It's your last chance," she said."Christ, lady, this is your big chance. You're gonna get laid like you never got laid by any rube called Warren. I can promise you that."Joyce wanted to run; and she realized that she could, for he was no longer holding her wrists.She was free, but she merely cowered against the side of the desk.She wasn't going anywhere for a while.CHAPTER TWOHe was slipping the blouse from her shoulders, and she was letting him. What in the world was happening to her? Of course, she was a healthy, adult woman; and she needed sex. But with this lout? There were a number of young, .eligible teachers who'd asked her for dates; but she'd turned them down, mostly because of Warren. But now, suddenly, this boy had made Warren seem distant. She couldn't remember Warren's face."Warren!" she cried out."Lady, you still don't get it," Walter said, as he rolled her blouse and tossed it onto the desk. "That guy's nothing. If he was, you'd be where he is-or vice versa. He was just something that happened on your last night at home, so far as I could tell from that letter. Hell, if it had been me, I'd've been fucking you from the time you were eighteen."She said nothing; instead, she cowered. She leaned against the desk; and it caught her at the middle of her buttocks, thrusting her hips forward. The heels of her hands were on the desk top as she leaned back to support herself. Her position might've appeared inviting and seductive, but she told herself that wasn't what she had in mind.But Walter liked what he saw. That was obvious as he reached over her shoulders and worked at the catch of her pink bra. He must've been six feet, two. Joyce was more than five-nine, but she still felt small before him. She judged his weight to be a hundred and eighty pounds or more.He reminded her of the Nebraska farm boys, but he didn't remind her of Warren-the balding, bookish, small, raspy voiced Warren.She sighed as he released the bra, and she felt the sudden freedom about her breasts."Ah, so you like that, after all?"She shook her head, her blonde hair swirling."I was thinking of something else," she replied."We can't let that keep on." He chuckled. "I keep telling you-you're gonna forget all about that other guy.""I doubt that."He didn't waste time arguing. Instead, he lifted the bra from her, plucking the straps over her shoulders. For an instant, she was proud of his gasp of delight. His eyes bugged, and again he licked his lips. She thought she might have enjoyed kissing those lips, if only he'd kept himself cleaner and if only he'd shaved that morning.He stood back, then said:"God, love them pink nipples!"Then his hands were swarming over them; and, instantly, she felt her buds respond by thrusting forward and hardening. She closed her eyes as their ache for attention was answered.This was so wonderful! Warren had felt her; but he was so considerate, so tender, that she'd missed much of the pleasure. This lout of a boy knew of no such restraints. He was pinching her and hurting her, leaving bruise marks ... but she was loving it.She closed her eyes as her head fell forward.He grasped a handful of golden hair and thrust her head back. It lolled to the rear so that a generous expanse of throat was exposed. Then she felt the mouth on her Adam's apple.She swallowed, and his lips moved with her. He was pecking and nibbling, working over her creamy skin until she was unable to stifle a moan.He lifted his mouth an inch, as he said:"Still thinking of that Warren bastard, aren't you?""Please shut up.""Yes, ma'am."His mouth pecked its way the length of her throat and then it was hovering over her breasts. She wanted to dig her fingers into the back of his neck and push his face into her pillow softness, but she dared not. She couldn't encourage this awful person-not if she was going to survive later. She had a professional position, and that position wasn't one of fucking her students.She needn't have worried, for Walter kept on his route. He pecked his way into the valley between her breasts, and she loved his heat on her skin. She was already warm, and moisture was gathering between her mounds; but he added to her heat. It was like moving closer to a stove in an already warm room.He had his nose buried, and then he was turning his face. He moved up the side slope of her right breast, heading toward the pink and taut peak. When he reached it, he kissed the puckered area immediately around the knob. Then he let the point pop between his lips. It was like an eager puppy waiting to be nursed. He sucked hard on the nipple, and his tongue rasped across it.Joyce remembered an erotic game she'd played when she'd been eighteen. Eighteen ... that's when this boy said he'd have been fucking her regularly! Instead, she'd had to content herself by playing with her kitten.She'd placed butter on her nipples in the privacy of her upstairs room and then placed the kitten on her belly. The eager little thing had lapped at Joyce's budding breasts until she'd felt the moist flush of pleasure between her legs. She didn't know at the time that she was having her first orgasms. She'd only known that she felt ashamed of her pleasure.Walter jerked her back into the present when he bit the right nipple.She cried out softly and placed her hand at the nape of his neck.He lifted his face, then asked:"Too hard?""Too hard," she agreed.Then, as though she were reciting in a language she couldn't understand, she spoke like a zombie, as she added:"This is wrong. You must let me go.""like shit," he muttered..His mouth went to her other breast, and he began to lick it. His tongue moved in large circles around the perimeter of the mound, moving in ever smaller rings until he'd zeroed in on the bursting and neglected nipple.He finally took it into his mouth, and her fingers hammered on the desk top. She quivered as her nerves jumped from her toes to the roots of her hair.Again he looked up. "You goin' off already?" he asked. "Shut up, you gorilla!" she hissed. How could she hate him so and still adore every touch?He only laughed as his tongue resumed its strumming.She wondered if her nipple would break off like a steaming icicle. Her breasts wanted to jump right out of their skin, splitting it like split melons that have been allowed to hang on the vine too long.He straightened and looked into her eyes."Ready for the next act?" he asked.She was proud that she was able to say:"No! Get out-get out at once. I'm going to charge you with attempted rape!"He shook his head as he grinned."Not attempted rape, teacher. Walter Bogg never attempts anything. He just does it.""And then he brags about it," she taunted, knowing she was challenging him to go on.He was laughing as his face went back to work. He kissed her breasts again, lightly and swiftly. Then he moved his mouth lower, pecking down over her ribs and hitting her high on the belly.She felt her middle sucking in and out as her panting grew in intensity.He paused and rubbed his hands together."Time to shift gears again," he said.