by Edward Lee
He’d be there in less than an hour.
(III)
The girl screamed as The Bighead et out her clitoris and surroundin’ folds’a girlskin. Lotta blood down there already— from the corin’ he’d just given her—and Bighead liked the taste’a blood, yessir, ’specially when it were mixed with the taste’a girlmeat. He’d popped her open fierce when he’d first slid his bone in, busted her up bad, but The Bighead were gettin’ used ta that now. Had yet ta find a woman with big enough a poon ta take all’s his dickmeat.
Too bad.
She were purdy, she was. A right purdy li’l thing he’d found by the big creek leadin’ out’a the Lower Woods. She were bendin’ over quite nice, pluckin’ cattails off their stems, probably ta make cattail pancakes like the way Grandpappy showed him once. They were a might good.
She had barely no hair at all down their on her girlcut, as Grandpappy like ta call it, an’ she hadda right nice smell ta her. Musky an’ sharp, but not all stinky like most the gals Bighead had come acrost’a late. Had li’l tufts’a hair unner her arms too, which Bighead bit right out an’ swallered once her was done bustin’ his nut inta her bloody hole. She’s also had cute li’l feet on her, tiny li’l things, so’s Bighead brushed the dirt off the bottom of ’em, then et the skin off her toes, kinda like fer a tidbit.
Then he whacked open her noggin with a log an’ et her brain. Real salty-like, this one were, much more so than that last splittail. Meatier. Burstin’ with flavor…
Gawd damn, but weren’t it good ta et a raw brain busted fresh out the skull!
A’corse, ’fore he et her brain, he gave her butthole a good suckin’ outs too. Bighead, he liked the taste’a buttcrack, he did. It were un-yoo-sher-all, a word his grandpappy tolt him. Liked ta suck the hot poop right out’a that tight li’l hole, and it were always easier when they was dead. This gal here, this li’l blondie—well, Bighead could just tell what she’d et yesterday. Fresh corn an’ ham hock an’ steamed collard greens. Coupla fresh water clams in there too, he’s could tell ’cos clams were always kinda chewy and’d stick ’tween his back teeth. Ta The Bighead, food always were best comin’ out’a gal’s butt. Ta be sure! Try it sometime!
Then he sat on a stump, lookin up at the bright blue sky, lookin’ at the birds frolickin’ in the trees, an’ such other visions’a beauty. But humpin’ that blondie—just thinkin’ back on it, mind ya—well, it made The Bighead hard as Grandpappy’s cherrywood walkin’ stick. So’s Bighead whupped it out’a his overalls an’ jacked hisself a second nut right then’n there, he did. Good nut, it was, real good, like ta make his knees knock! He comed in his hand an’ slurped it up right quick, ’cos, see, Bighead didn’t like ta waste nothin’, not even his own peckersnot.
‘Sides, it tasted good.
— | — | —
FOUR
(I)
“My God!” Jerrica exclaimed, gazing out over the weathered wood veranda. “Look at all the flowers!”
“I know,” Charity said. She was remembering more and more, just in the few hours she’d been here. Aunt Annie was a bonafide green thumb. The back yard, right up the treeline, was a carpet of flowers. Flanks of mallows and bluecurls. Lines of adderstongues and yellow violets. Dense beds of day lilies and chickory and blazing-purple bellflowers. A veritable explosion of colors and scents.
Jerrica, unimpeded in only panties and bra, seemed seized in awe. More to herself than to Charity, she murmured, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful…in my life.”
Charity distractedly agreed. What distracted her was Jerrica’s state of dress, or lack thereof. Only moments ago, she’d boldly waltzed through the connecting door into Charity’s bedroom. “I’m such a ditz!” she announced. “I was just about to take a shower when I realized I forgot my deodorant! Do you have any I can borrow?”
“Uh, sure,” Charity said, and quickly rummaged through her suitcase for her can of Dry Care spray. The sudden vision shook her: Jerrica’s physique covered so scantily. White-lace panties and bra, nearly see-through. Charity tried to act normal but it was hard. Jerrica stood casually in her underthings, long sleek legs rising to give shape to a physique of well-defined, feminine curves. And she was so tan, every inch of exposed skin a shiny, deep nut-brown, which offered a sharp contrast to the linen-white orbs of her breasts. Dark-pink nipples easily showed through the lace, and so did the puffing tuft of dark, blond hair at her pubis. And the white-blond hair on her head only furthered the contrast; like glossing silk, the color of bleached straw, it hung straight to her shoulders. She’s beautiful, Charity thought. Certainly it wasn’t any erotic appreciation by which she appraised Jerrica Perry. It was, instead, a diversion of observations: envy and objective surveyance. Maybe some jealousy too. God, I wish I looked like her, Charity pined to herself.
“You…wow. You have a nice tan,” was the only thing Charity could summon to say.
“Thanks,” Jerrica offered. “It ain’t the sun, believe me. I go to a tanning salon in Bowie three times a week, year round. But…Christ, Charity.” Jerrica, then, casually as everything else about her, touched Charity’s shoulder, pushing aside very slightly the bra strap showing beneath her summer dress. “You look like you haven’t been in the sun in years.”
“I—well, I haven’t, really.”
“That’s what we can do while we’re here!” Jerrica excitedly exclaimed, her eyes brightening. “Tomorrow we can go out back and do some sunbathing.”
The idea seemed alien to Charity, and she remained thoroughly distracted by Jerrica’s close-to-naked body. “Uh, well, okay. That would be nice.” Charity, sheepishly then, handed Jerrica the deodorant.
“Oh, wow! Check this out!” Jerrica was exclaiming again. That’s when she’d noticed the open french doors to Charity’s veranda. She marched out and gazed in astonishment over the heavy wood rail.
Charity followed her. “Aunt Annie loves flowers. That’s why the back yard’s full of them. It’s funny, how well I remember it all.”
Jerrica’s sheerly brassiered breasts compressed as she leaned on the rail, peering out. “The only flowers I see in the city are fake.” As she leaned further, though, Charity couldn’t keep her eyes off the perfectly formed rump. More envy, more jealousy. Seeing her companion like this only made Charity feel more inept and dissociated. Maybe if I had a body like hers, she surmised, men would call me back…
“She’s always loved flowers,” she roused from her secret muse. Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, she felt misted with sweat. “When I was little, before the state took me, I’d wander around the garden for hours, every day during the summer.”
“I don’t blame y—” Jerrica began, then halted. She pointed over the rail. “Hey, isn’t that Goop?”
Charity hadn’t noticed. But, yes, back by the compost shed, there he stood, a huge flesh-sculpture in overalls. Goop Gooder, her aunt’s handyman. He was staring up at the veranda. “That’s him all right. And it looks like you’ve got a secret admirer.”
The moment Goop saw that they’d noticed him, he jerked around, went back to reeling up watering hoses.
“He’s kind of, well—” Jerrica paused. “He’s cute.”
Goop Gooder! Charity couldn’t believe it. He’s a hick! But, again, she couldn’t prevent her eyes from side-glancing up the sleek slope of Jerrica’s legs and back.
“Hi, Goop!” Jerrica fairly shouted, and waved. Her barely covered breasts swayed—more jealousy on Charity’s part—and her smile beamed down.
“Uh-uh-uh, hi there, Ms., uh, Jerrica,” he blathered and went back to his work.
“They guy’s a trip,” Jerrica said to Charity. “He’s such a cliche.”
Wait till you’ve been in town for a week, Charity thought.
“Well, anyway, thanks for loaning me your deodorant. I’ll bring it right back.”
“Talk to you later,” Charity offered.
And then, for the last time, Charity’s eyes fell on Jerrica as she walke
d out and closed the connecting door between their two rooms.
Charity didn’t falter. She rushed to the mirror, skimmed off her clothes. What glinted back at her was a body she hated. Her breasts were beginning to sag, her navel sunk, and her nipples were ovaled, so much unlike the pert, full, and perfectly round nipples of her riding companion. And I’m fat, she condemned herself, though she really wasn’t. She had a distinctive poshness under her skin, not fat at all, and well-formed feminine curves too. But it was the sheer indefectibility of Jerrica Perry that made her self-conscious. She couldn’t stop seeing it: that tight abdomen; the sleek, muscled legs; a tight, full buttocks. I should take better care of myself, Charity knew.
Her skin shone milk white, all over. Her pubic patch remained untrimmed. She hadn’t nearly the muscle tone of her friend, nor the beaming vitality. And her hair, which she also positively hated, hung about her head in unruly, chocolate curls. Being naturally curly, thanks to magazines such as Cosmopolitan, Vogue and Elle, seemed like more of a curse…
No wonder men never want to go out with me more than once, she considered her curse. Charity was a beautiful woman, but she’d never realize that thanks to the brain-washing designs of a cosmetic society.
Her hand, then, very discretely, brushed upward against the gentle furrow of her sex. A dull spark shot off, and for a single second, her breasts felt tingly and full. But then it all collapsed.
Just like it always did.
She showered quickly in cool water, dressed even more quickly. Yes, it was wonderful to be back, but what did that show her?
More failure. More disappointment and unfulfillment.
Back on the veranda, she tried to erase her self-condemnations. She gazed out onto the explosive beds of flowers, inhaling their meld of scents. Coming home was just what she needed, but, now, it seemed, it didn’t matter where she went. She would always feel second-rate, inferior.
An ugly duckling…
A sound swished at her ears. She gazed harder. What is that? she wondered. She was sure she’d heard a sound.
Then—
Aunt Annie, she saw.
Along the narrow aisle through the flowers, her aunt walked, her arms cradled with flowers.
Where is she going? Charity wondered.
There would be, of course, no answer. Eventually her aunt disappeared into the curtain of the woodline, and disappeared.
(II)
Gawd! Goop Gooder thought. Dirt scuffed off in his hands as he reeled in more hose, the sun on his back. His simple mind felt light and airy with wonders; he’d just seen the blond city woman, and with only her underwear on!
Done reeling in the hose, Goop scurried back into the house, carrying a bucket for some unknown reason. At the very least, he knew he was a handyman, and he figured that being seen with a bucket might make sense to an onlooker. Ms. Annie, though, had already left, with fresh-picked flowers, on her walk to the woods. It was something she did most every day.
And with Miss Annie out of the house, Goop didn’t have to worry about getting caught, did he?
He’d found it years ago, the loose panel in the back of his closet. He closed his bedroom door, set down the bucket. He couldn’t help it—he had to rub his crotch, and when he did so he felt that undeniable ooze of pre-ejaculatory fluid run up his pipe, because just seeing Miss Jerrica like that, all soft and tan in those pretty girl undies of hers, that had him hard in his pants in no time. He set back the sheetrock panel, then entered the oblong, black entry behind. A tiny pen light showed his way, through a modest labyrinth, and soon he’d arrived at the proper dot. See, Goop had long ago drilled the tiniest holes through the walls of most every room. The first hole he came to showed only Miss Charity, Annie’s beloved niece, sitting amope in a different dress than the one she’d come in. Miss Charity was a fair-looking woman, for sure, but when Goop put his open eye to the next hole, all he could think was:
Gawd!
It was that city blond, Miss Jerrica, just stepping out of the shower. All big tits and tan legs and a big blond bush on her. She began drying off with a towel, kind of slowly, kind of like she was savoring the feel of that towel against her skin…
Aw, God…
Goop, of course, expected her to put on her clothes, and that would be the end of it. Instead, though, what she did was this:
She laid down on the bed.
What the—
There was this look on her face. Pretty as her face was, the look made Goop Gooder a bit sad, for it was a look of unhappiness, even desperation. But all things considering, Goop didn’t pay it much mind when he saw what she did next.
Lying right there flat out on the bed, she…spread her legs.
And fine legs they were, no doubt, long and lean and tan like those California girls Goop had seen in the girlie mags. And the plot on her…
She had a plot that popped a stiffer on Goop right quick. It was kind of a dark blond, and Goop ain’t never seen a bush on a girl that wasn’t black. But this Miss Jerrica, she ran her hand through it just then, and her legs stiffened, and her ass, well, it flexed up. And—
Good Gawd!
Her other hand slid up that trim belly of hers, and gave one of her hooters a tight squeeze.
She was just so beautiful, Goop couldn’t stop himself. He liked her so much, and she must like him too, otherwise why would she have said hi to him when she was standing on Miss Charity’s balcony?
Yeah, maybe she likes me…
Goop unzipped and had his dog in his hand in about a second. He was hanging hard, he was, and he got to pulling his pud right quick. It felt so much better, doing himself while watching a pretty woman lie naked on a bed. But then she began to do more, like she got to really touching herself, and sinking her fingers deep into her slot, and her pretty ass was squirming all over. Goop loved those white tits on her, and that deep white patch of skin just above her plot. The rest of her was so brown, like the toast Aunt Annie made in her oven…
Aw, Gawd, aw, Gawd—
Goop’s balls pulled up as he was watching Miss Jerrica, and he shot a spunker right onto the inside wall. It drooled down like a long white worm, but, of course, it wasn’t the first time. Goop had jacked off spying female guests many a time. Only thing was—
This was different.
It wasn’t simply that he liked looking at this blond city woman. He could tell by the way she’d looked at him and by the way she’d said “hi” earlier.
Gawds Almighty, he thought, stuffing his deflated penis back into his pants. I thinks I loves her…
(III)
“Hold ’er down, Dicky, come ons!” Tritt “Balls” Conner exclaimed. “Hail! Ya gots ta hold her down harder’n that!”
They’d just got off a hooch run from Big Stone Gap just ’cross the state line, droppin’ a coupla hunnert gallons fer Clyde Nale, when they sawwed this creeker chick lyin’ passed out by one’a the fermentin’ tanks. “Takes that alky bitch outa here, ya want,” said the Kentucky cracker who runned the joint. “Blammed alkerholic she is, hangin’ round here ever-day givin’ my boys blowjobs fer hooch. We’se all sick’’a her, we is. So’s you take her outa here if ya want, fuck her, kill her, bury her, what’s ever ya wants. We’se don’t wants ta see he no more.”
Which sounded fine ta Balls, so he an’ Dicky, they throwed her passed-out dead-drunk skinny ass in the back’a the El Camino, covered her up with the tarp and tooks off. Hour later they was back ’cross the line and she still ain’t woked up, so drunk she was! Dicky parked the ’Mino up one’a the byroads off the Route and they’se hauled her out. Balls didn’t waste no time gettin’ the stinky clothes off her, and she were a sight, she were. All skinny and may-sher-ated on account’a bein’ a corn junkie, ribs an’ hipbones stickin’ out, ratty dirty head’a hair on her, titties all little an’ shriveled. Had long stretchmaarks, too, on her skinny belly, which meaned she’d had kids, an’ they was probably retarts ’cos she no doubt dranked like a fish whiles she were preggered, bu
t who know fer shore? Had big long dirty toenails, too, an’ a yap full’a rotten teeth that was almost black and caked with crap in ’tween ’em. Weren’t no prize, this gal. Nevertheless, Balls dropped trow, hocked a spitter inner dirty mufff, and gots right ta work. “Chrast, she a bony bitch, Dicky,” Tritt Balls observed once he got ta humpin’ her passed out girlmeat. “Fuckin’ hipbones like ta stab me in the belly!”
Dicky had his dick out, givin’ hisself a wank, but he just weren’t into it. Wouldn’t git hard, it wouldn’t. “Shee-it, Balls, let’s just leave and git outa here. This rummy ain’t worth havin’ a nut in.”
Balls, still humpin’ away, looked up a might disapprovin’ly. “Lets me tell ya somethin’ Dicky. Hail,” he berated. “If it’s a hole, it’s worth havin’ a nut in, ’cos that’s what holes’re fer… Shee-it! She a stinky bitch, too! Ripe!”
Tritt’s ass rose an’ fell a country mile a minute, whiles Dicky just up’n shook his head, puttin’ his pecker back. Weren’t a whole hell of a lot’a fun roustin’ a bitch when she were all passed out and smellin’ worse’n a pig’s butt. But Balls, he knew, were different. Shee-it, he humped fellas on occasion, when there weren’t no gals around, and a coupla times he’d even humped hisself some sheep. “Hail, Dicky,” he’d excused. “‘S’all pink on the inside, ain’t it?”
Just then, though, this rummy creeker gal perked up and started screamin’, she did, once she were conscious enough ta realize what were bein’ done ta her. “Hold ’er down, Dicky! Hold ’er down,” Balls had then started exclaimin’. “She’s fightin’ a might fierce!”
Dicky feebly attempted ta do so, pinnin’ her arms ta the dirt, but it weren’t ta much use. “You dirty crackers!” she wailed, and then—ya know what she did then? She hocked a stinky spitter right in Tritt Balls’ face.
