While the Whole Town Slept

She was reborn with his lips on hers. She tasted for the first time her own sexual excitement and the disgusting filth left inside her by her two rapists and she wondered what the odd tastes and scents were. And tasted a drop of salty sweat as it ram down the tip of Byron's nose to meet his lips and her searching tongue. It reminded her of the seawater. She savored it. But Byron hadn't been there that time and her mind grew confused. Where was she?

The confusion was replaced with a wave of pleasure as Byron teased her boobs and settled himself between her thighs. She felt his maleness at the entrance to her cunt. Nell realized what she wanted and knew exactly how to get it. She pulled her lips from her lover's mouth.

"Fuck me."

She felt no shame as she made her demand, didn't blush when she spoke the word she'd never said aloud or in secret silence.

"Fuck my cunt with your cock."

"I'll fuck you," Buzz laughed as he shifted his loins and held his cock at the entrance to her womb. "I'll fuck your cunt with my cock after you put my prick inside your pussy."

Nell never hesitated. She took the hot pulsating shaft in her long cool fingers. Guided it to her cunt and let the head of his cock bathe in her flowing juices that washed away her virgin blood and the semen of the rapists. Pulled him forward and felt the flash of another orgasm as the head lodged between her cunt lips and her free hand grabbed his buttock and pulled him forward and her lungs emptied as her pussy filled with his cock and he was inside her, his entire length settled in her heated tunnel and they laid there, Buzz on top of her, Byron inside Nell's cunt. He started a slow easy fuck. Slowly so that she could feel every stroke and match his thrusts with the rise and dip of her hips and as their movements synchronized he increased the pace and she followed as if they were two racers, stride for stride, matching each other, giving at the same rate they received, fucking and getting fucked and Buzz felt himself caught up in her tightness and humidity and the strength of her pussy as it gripped him and although he tried to hold himself back, for all his effort he failed and he knew he was there and he couldn't stop and he surged inside her waiting, her wanting womb and his nuts spewed forth their elixir of life and his world went dark while hers exploded in a fireball that made the sun puny by comparison and she knew that though she was dying, she would live forever in this moment and her world, forever changed, would never be the same...

Nell let him pull away from her at last. She didn't want Byron to leave her but instinct told her he needed to free himself from her embrace, if for no other reason than to breathe. So she let him go. And if he never returned to her, that would be OK, she thought as she dozed.

She awoke with his hand on her belly, rubbing gently before teasing her cunt.

"Darling, I can't take any more."

She was altogether one crazy bitch, Buzz realized. So he said nothing.

Nell turned on her hip so she could face him, bare breasted, bare belly, loins and legs and she was amazed how her long summer dress could occupy so little of her body, covering only just below her boobs (she savored the sound of the word as it silently rolled off her tongue; what a wonderfully descriptive word: B-O-O-O-O-B-S!) to several inches above her navel. All the rest of her was exposed to Byron and the moon and stars and the cool night breeze.

Her fingers felt for him, found his cock. She was amazed at the stickiness that coated his cock.

"You're such a mess."

"Clean me, then."

Nell pulled at the hem of her white cotton dress and started to wipe his cock clean.

"Not that way." Buzz stopped her. He touched her cheek and slid his hand around her neck. He pulled slowly, using no more force than was necessary to situate her unresisting head close to his cock. "Like this."

Nell felt his cock brush her lips. She opened her mouth, accepting his prick. She kissed it. She licked it. Nell was amazed that the taste didn't repulse her. She felt Byron's cock quiver under her lips and she knew she was giving him pleasure so she opened her mouth fully and sucked him inside as earlier she had sucked his tongue.

Buzz let go of her head and let her suck. She wasn't very good at it, but for him, even a shitty blowjob was better than none. She was a lot better fuck. That was probably an instinctive thing. Even dogs knew how to fuck, but he'd never seen a canine bitch suck off a male dog.

Despite her inexperience, Nell stiffened Byron's cock. As it grew in her mouth, for awhile, her efforts came easier. Soon, however, the cock was too big to fit comfortably in her mouth. She gagged. She drew away. She felt her lover's hands on the back of her head, holding her in place. She tried to twist away. His strength was too much and Nell failed to withdraw. She tried to gag again when he lifted his hips to force his cock deeply inside her mouth.

Her struggles to reject his cock ended when she realized that she could do this. She relaxed and the gagging impulse eased. Nell let his cock enter her throat. Huffing air in and out through her nose became a matter of survival. Once she conquered that task, she found that she could still use her tongue on Byron's cock. She worked around the shaft. It grew in length and girth. She felt solidly plugged and the sensation was somewhat like a bad bout of constipation. She kept after it, though, and found she could relax her jaws a miniscule amount more. Eased the pressure. She took him deeper. Let him guide her head up and down. Her fingers massaged his muscular thighs. She felt his hands leave her head and Nell decided that she must be doing better.

She was correct. As her mouth gained confidence, Buzz let her find her own way around his cock. Not that his hips quit moving. They still came up and down; he let her adjust to his movement, though. And with his hands free from the back of her head, he could tease her tits, ass, and cunt. He kept his hands moving, never lingering in any one location very long. He wanted to stimulate as much of her body as possible. Only once did his hands stop. When a finger probed her anus, the sucking woman had shied away and her mouth stopping playing with his cock.

His finger persisted, easing inside the humid hole of her ass and she had to either accept it or move her body from her task. Nell stayed where she was. She tried to ignore the intrusion. As the digit move inside her, the pain became discomfort. That changed to pleasure. It was different than the pleasure his cock had given her cunt or was now giving her mouth. She accepted it gratefully.

Slowly the idea came to her that if she liked a finger in her ass, maybe Byron would, too. One hand holding the base of his prick, she let her other hand go lower. She found the spot she wanted. She teased his ass first before slowly rotating her finger in a corkscrew motion.

Buzz was startled by the intrusion. He never expected the middle aged woman would be so bold, would take the initiative this way. He was thinking about what else she would learn when a second finger joined her first one and he came in her mouth, a spurt that caught them both by surprise.

Nell swallowed hungrily as the cock pulsed in her mouth. She knew she wasn't getting it all, that some of his semen was leaking past her tightened lips and matting his pubic hair. She had the happy thought she was making nearly as much of a mess as she had cleaned up and might have to repeat the process...

Nell was considering that possibility as she rolled away from her lover. The pleasant idea disappeared though as she saw her two rapists standing just a few feet away. She yelped. She tried to cover her nudity as best she could until Byron told her it was OK. The pair meant her no harm. They forgave her for tempting them and they would prove that by letting her suck their cocks.

She didn't understand, but if that's what Byron wanted, it must be OK. Nell went to her knees. The second rapist, she remembered the size of his cock if not his name, stepped forward. His cock, a jutting spear, pointed at her face. She took the cock in one long swallow. As she sucked the cock, her lover came up behind her. He toyed with her boobs. She felt his cock nudge at her back. She spread her knees and the cock slipped into her from behind. Byron fucked her as first one rapist and then the other splashed their maleness down her throat. Then her cunt was filled a fourth time. The once hard cocks pulled away from her and she fell forward.

Eleanor didn't hear them leave. When she woke up, she was alone and the moon was directly over head. She got up on her feet unsteadily. She found her panties. They were torn, unbearable. She let the skirt of her dress fall over her naked hips. She looked for and failed to find her brassiere. She didn't know that one of the boys had taken it as a souvenir. The teacher pulled up the straps of her dress, realizing that was as far as she could go towards modesty. It took her many minutes to find her sandals. One wasn't far from the sidewalk she'd long ago walked.

She had no idea of the time. The elevation of the moon told her it was after midnight. She walked slowly, because her loins were sore as was her jaw, her lips bruised.

Eleanor was glad for the lateness of the hour, because the streets were empty. The houses were dark. Except for herself, it seemed as if the entire town was sleeping. Even Sam Pfeiffer was probably napping, parked in his patrol car behind city hall. At least Eleanor hoped he was. She walked in mortal fear that he would drive by and she would be seen by the officer. There was no way she could answer her questions without obvious lies. Her best story, she decided that she'd been unable to sleep and had decided a late night stroll would calm her nerves. How to explain her attire? It was obvious to anyone with eyes that she was naked under the cotton sundress and that it was dirty and grass stained.

She felt thick liquid leaking from between her legs. With every step, the abrasion of her bare thighs made her aware of her, her cunt. Eleanor accepted the noun as easily as Nell had. And her nipples were pleasantly aroused by the cotton fabric as her tits jiggled. As her unconfined b-o-o-o-bs b-o-o-o-ounced under the bo-o-o-dice of her dress.

Idly, she wondered if she would ever wear brassiere or panties again.

A girdle was definitely impossible.

There was a faint flicker of silver from the sitting room window when she reached the Widow Woman Prichard's rooming house. The once spinster lady felt under the second flower pot to the left of the door, found the brass key, let herself in quietly, and returned the key to its hiding place.

Old Mrs. Abernathy, another widow woman, sat sleeping in an arm chair. The television set, sound turned down, showed a test pattern. It didn't matter if there was no sound or picture. The addled woman, who'd taught Eleanor in third grade and inspired her to be a teacher, couldn't hear, could barely see, and remembered little of what happened around her. And yet, Eleanor remembered, her mother often said that fifty years ago Judith Cromwell had been one of the prettiest women in Williford. Or in the county, for that matter. When she married Josiah Abernathy, son of the town banker, they were feted as the handsomest newlyweds in the state.

Taking off her sandals, Eleanor crept upstairs. The clock beside her bed said the time was 1:17. She had been gone over four hours.

Her room had an adjoining bath. She filled it with hot water and bubble bath. When she was finished soaking, it was going on two A.M.

Naked, she slipped between the clean fresh sheets that smelled of sunshine and new mown hay. Her sleep was peopled with pleasant people who danced at her wedding and toasted the bride and groom, the handsomest couple in the state. And she dreamed of her honeymoon.

The Monday afternoon paper had a front page story that caught her eye.

THREE COUNTY YOUTHS DIE

IN HOLD-UP ATTEMPT

Paula MCComber

Three Williford teens died after a botched hold-up attempt in Rawlings late Saturday afternoon. The robbery occurred at the County Line Package Store. The trio threatened the owner with a short barreled shotgun. The proprietor, James Snelling, told the county sheriff's office that after a previous robbery attempt last fall, he had kept himself armed. Before handing over the cash from his register, Mr. Snelling drew his .45 Colt automatic pistol and fired a single shot, striking the armed teen in the chest. The other two fled the store. Motorcycle Officer Jimmy Earl Damon heard the shot and sighted the fleeing pair of would-be robbers. He began pursuit while using his radio to alert other officers. Pursuit was rapid in developing as the felons' car proceeded down Farm to Market Road 701. At the intersection with County Road 51D, the driver lost control and crashed into a tree. Dead at the scene were the driver, William Taylor, 19 years old, and passenger, George "Buzz" Burke.18. Killed at the scene of the attempted robbery was Lester Walters, also 18.

All three teens were described by Williford Chief of Police Thomas J. Doniphan as "juvenile delinquents" and had various run-ins with the law. They were suspected in the burglary of habitat in Williford im March of this year and also in the attack of an un-named minor female last April.

James Snelling is expected to be no-billed for his shooting by a county grand jury, said county prosecutor Andrew Pickering,

* * *

Eleanor O'Neill recognized the name of George Burke as having been one of her students and William Taylor because of his mother. The other name meant nothing to her.

* * *

School started the Wednesday after Labor Day. Some of the other faculty members were surprised by the attitude presented by Eleanor. The teacher they had known for years seemed different. So did her mode of dress. Most of her co-workers thought the changes were an improvement. She seemed happier than in previous years and dressed more gaily.

* * *

A week after the start of school, Eleanor made an appointment to see Dr. Mallory. His father had delivered all the O'Neill children, seen to their colds and 'flu, broken bones and minor emergencies. The younger Malone was probably as good a doctor as any in the county and Eleanor knew he could be trusted.

She took Judith Abernathy with her to the doctor's office for reasons that were totally unclear to the elderly woman.

A nurse showed the two teachers, one retired, one still working, to an examination room and asked Eleanor to please undress. She left a gown for her to don. While the elderly woman dozed in a chair, Eleanor, fully clothed, perched up on the examination table.

Dr. Malone entered with the same nurse and was surprised to see that his patient was still dressed.

"The nurse may leave, doctor," Eleanor said. "My friend will safeguard medical propriety."

He looked at the elderly woman still sleeping quietly in the straight backed chair. It was out of the ordinary, but Malone nodded to her nurse who left. Interest and curiosity were plain on his face. He was really quite handsome, Eleanor realized. He had his mother's Italian coloring, the dark hair and complexion, the bottomless eyes that revealed nothing.

Eleanor O'Neill unbuttoned the back of her long dress, pulling it carefully over her head so as not to muss her hair, and hung it on the clothes tree by the door. She wore a cream colored slip. She took off this, too, and hung it with her dress. Naked save for her shoes, she hopped up on the table.

"I think I'm going to have a baby..."

And the examination confirmed her suspicion. Dr. Malone, knowing his patient's status in the community, as well as her marital status, asked if there was anyone she wanted him to speak with. Was there more anything he could do?

Smiling Eleanor told him that there was nothing more.

He recommended a OB/GYN and suggested an appointment as soon as possible.

As she and Mrs. Abernathy rode away in a taxi cab, Eleanor decided that if it were a son, she would name him Byron Del O'Neill. A daughter, Shelley Nell O'Neill., after Lord Byron's friend. And as her riding companion slept beside her, she saw the cab driver glance in the mirror at her. Although she didn't remember his name, she had seen him march in the town's annual Veterans' Day parade and periodically at church, along with his homely wife and three red-headed and freckled children. He was, she reckoned, a good provider to his family, one of those staid citizens who were the backbone of Williford.

Eleanor leaned forward and asked him if he would mind stopping at the Recreation Club. She handed him two dollars and would he mind going inside and buying her a six pack of beer? She was suddenly thirsty, Eleanor explained. What brand of beer, he asked. It didn't matter, whatever he preferred.

After he returned to the taxi cab with his package, his passenger asked him to drive through Settlers' Park and that they were in no hurry.

The driver nodded and glanced back at his passenger. She reached up and tweaked one of her nipples to prominence. His eyes got wide. He grinned and started to whistle tunelessly.

Author's Note:

When I was a girl growing up, my older brother (by five years), was reading a lot of science fiction. He got me interested in Ray Bradbury. Quite a change from Nancy Drew, of whom my mother approved as suitable for a young girl.

Recently, while rummaging through an old bookstore, I ran across a copy of Stories for Late at Night. (ed: Alfred Hitchcock. Random House, 1961) It was the exact same book my brother had once checked out from the local library and it has a gem of a Bradbury story, "The Whole Town's Sleeping." It takes place in a dusty, ageless Illinois town and involves a serial killer of women and a "spinster lady." I decided that I could perhaps write a "Bradbury" story. I took the setting, moved it to Texas.

My tale was originally going to be a ghost story. My female character was going to meet the spirit of her admired and long dead grandfather; he would fuck and impregnate her. The story took a wild detour, however, when I had my female lead sitting on the front porch as twilight deepened around her. Originally, I was going to describe a Packard or perhaps a DeSoto driving by, to deepen the atmosphere of small town Texas in the 1950s. For some reason, though, I decided to make the car a jalopy with three passengers. Gone was the idea of spiritual possession replaced by my trio of predators.

Although I wonder how my original story would have turned out, I hope that this version has been worth reading.