CHAPTER SEVEN
It seemed that little Marsha, even before we'd gone crazy and raped her, had pretty well figured out we were into swinging. She may have stayed a virgin until she was the ripe, old age of eighteen, but the kid was definitely hip.
"Whatever" turned out to mean Marsha wanted to go along to our swap-meets, now that we had broken her in.
"You did this to me. You made me what I am," she laid it on the line to us. "It's you two who made me want it so bad. You do what I say, or the whole story will come out and you'll be ruined. There are strict laws against the s****l abuse of minors in this state, if you know what I mean."
Things were starting to ripen. The smell of blackmail was in the air.
Unfortunately, the scent of blackmail is irresistible to those of us in the advanced
