"Fuck me hard, but don't fuck a baby into me," the girl panted, and Joanne recognized the tone of voice of a woman heated with the passion of sex. "I forgot to take my pill this morning."

"Your tough luck!" Tom said with a laugh. "I'm going to fill you with jism, baby; gonna shoot till it's running out of your nose and mouth and ears! Rub your tits against me. Let me kiss them again. Your nipples get so stiff, I can't believe it. Such little things, and they get so big! Mmmmm!"

"Ooohhh, you're biting again! But don't stop! And don't stop fucking me, either! Ram it up me, Tommy baby, let me feel every inch of what you've got down there. Oh, God, it's so big and hard, I think it's gonna bust me, think it's gonna split my pussy, tear me to little ribbons of twat and hair. But I don't care. I want it, Jesus, I want it, I need it, I gotta have it! Screw meeeeeee!"

And if Joanne had never heard a woman in the pitch of orgasm before, she knew that she was hearing one now. She turned away, unwilling even to face the little communications box that had allowed her to eavesdrop on Tom at his daily grind. Grind! What a great word for it! He was probably grinding for all he was worth, ramming that – that bitch, that cunt – with the cock he couldn't give his own wife. She tried to picture the girl, but she couldn't pin a face the voice she'd been listening to. She could see Tom, clear as day, but he had a blob of shapeless flesh mounted on him, a hole that he was using his cock on. She strove to piece together elements, to deduce physical characteristics from voice, but she couldn't. Whoever, whatever she was, Tom was fucking her and telling her that he loved her, and Joanne was sick with the knowledge of it all.

The girl's moans continued, and they scraped on Joanne's nerves like fingernails scraping on a blackboard.