White Slave Chapter 2
Chris O'Brien took one look at her checkbook balance and swore. Damn!
There was no way she could pay the rent and afford bus fare too, not to mention
coincidentals like laundry and an occasional glass of wine. Then the worst
realization imaginable struck the sandy haired girl between the eyes like
40,000 watts of voltage: there was no more money coming in until she found a
job. Thank God they were getting food stamps!
Oh God! What to do? She collapsed on the single bed that squeeked under
her slender weight and, covering her face with her hands, she wept, her
five-foot four-inch body rocking back and forth on the Indian print bedspread.
Why had she insisted on coming to San Francisco without a job? Her uncle Frank
had warned her, her aunt Violet, her father, and her very own younger sister.
But no, Chris O'Brien was going to prove her independence regardless of the
ominous odds. So what if California already suffered from 13% unemployment, not
to mention the spate of 18-22 year old jobless, of which she was but a
statistic. Chris would prove them all overly cautious and narrow-minded. She
would come in cold, get a well-paying, creative job with travel benefits. After
all, she had a college diploma in one hand and a portfolio brimming with talent
in the other. What more could she have going for her? Her professors at the
University had encouraged her, telling her she should try cracking into the
fashion design market out here on the West Coast. Sure, they'd said, it you
want to start a career, go to New York; but the West Coast has lots more
amenities. Now, after two months of scouring the streets, all she could show
for her efforts was a bad blister on her left heel and an arm-long list of
useless telephone numbers and contacts. And no money.
A roar as loud as her own crying rocketed through the Geary street
apartment, the din's vibrating rattle making the stereo groan, then skip a cut.
Chris pounded an angry fist into her knee. And this hole! It was filthy and
noisy, snorted Chris. You couldn't listen to a record album without a bus
interrupting everytime its brakes ground to a halt to repeat its never ending
route up and down Geary Street all night. But you could hardly complain to a
landlord about cockroaches and broken windows when you still owed last month's
rent and had no prospects for paying the current month's either. You bit your
lip and endured: that was city living.
What could she do? Chris bit into her trembling lower lips and stared
blurrily at the yellow cracked wall. She might as well call her parents
collect and humiliate herself by asking them to send her a one-way ticket back
to Detroit and forget there was any part of America west of the Mississippi
River. No. That would be giving in, sniffed Chris, wiping her nose with the
back of her hand. She'd rather work at the telephone company, God forbid, than
do that -- if they were hiring.
The twenty-two year old slim-hipped girl braced her foot on the bed board
and, out of habit, twisted to reach her cigarettes on the night stand. With a
wince and a snap of her fingers she remembered she'd smoked the last one last
night -- or had her roommate bummed it? She couldn't remember which. Just
yesterday she'd spent her last cash on a pair of stockings she didn't like, to
wear to a job interview for a job she didn't want. Damn! she hissed, clenching
her fists. We've got to do something. Anything!
And her roommate Sandy was no help either. God, she couldn't keep a
dollar in her pocket for five minutes without it sending up flames. That,
thought Christ pacing in front of the window, is the whole trouble with Sandy.
Drugs. Money spent uselessly on drugs, and all it got you was a headache and
another day in debt. In school it had been no problem even though they'd roomed
together since neophyte freshman. One collect phone call to the folks telling
them you needed another easel or art book, and the check was in the mail
pronto. Now, being twenty-two and independent, neither of the girls could
expect anything in the mail except for a good wish and a stamped,
self-addressed envelope to back home. A case of responsibility, pure and simple.
Chris put her finger to her lip and concentrated on the old man across
the street, stooping over to pick up cigarette butts from the gutter. Where
had last summer's savings gone? She tapped her foot, mentally counting off the
dollars. Rent-$70, clothes-about $10, rock concerts... ummm, that's where a
good share of it had gone. And dope. One pound of top grade marijuana that
she and Sandy had bought the first week in San Francisco. "Good stuff... safe
connection... you can sell it, keep a couple lids for yourselves and make a
killing on the rest." Right, thought Chris with a sarcastic nod of the head.
Safe investment, huh! The dealer, some guy Sandy had picked up in the park and
brought home for an afternoon of frolic and post-hippie lovemaking, sold them
the goods and ripped them off on the same night. Some scam!
He'd come late at night to break up the kilo and weigh out the pound in
front of the two girls. Next thing Chris remembered she was lying on the floor
from an overdose of PCP sprinkled in the marijuana -- a drug she'd smoked
occasionally while in school -- with Sandy making passionate love to the dealer
on the sofa. Chris, on hands and knees, had crawled to her bedroom, just one
doorway beyond, and listened to the grunts and groans and slurping and slapping
of flesh on naked flesh only to wake up the next morning to find her roommate
passed out on the couch and Chris' purse laying open and empty... and the pound
of dope picked up and carried off by the same hands that had brought it in only
four hours earlier. It was a killing all right, mused Chris with the caustic
wisdom of a victim of the city. A real lesson.
She'd blamed Sandy for it, calling her irresponsible and a poor judge of
character, that she should have been able to pick up on the guy's vibes and
known better than to buy dope from a stranger. But then, honestly speaking, if
Sandy had to pass on her judgment of people, she wouldn't have passed
kindergarten, for Sandy was a girl who knew what she wanted on the skimpiest of
superficial levels and sacrificed anything to get it -- money, honor. It
didn't matter. If it felt good, Sandy indulged. It was her life's principle.
"Some people live by the ten commandments," Chris remembered her best friend
saying, "and I have my fun." No one could argue the point; in a crazy sort of
way it made sense.
Even Chris couldn't argue with Sandy on that issue. The long haired girl
lit the half-burned cigarette she found among the marijuana roaches in the
seashell ashtray and lit it, feeling the hot match warm her fingers as she
thought on. No, Sandy had never been discriminate about her college dates. If
they liked loud music, beer, and dope, they were Sandy's kind of people. Poor,
rich, white, black, yellow, red -- Sandy had had them all. And loved it.
That must have been thought Chris pulling on the second-time-around
cigarette, why Mom and Dad were opposed to her coming along with me out here to
California in the first place. Though she was loathe to concede the issue, her
parents were right. Sandy was getting out of hand with bringing home guys from
the laundromat, the bus stop, and the pool hall -- anywhere she could find a
willing mate who wanted to spend an afternoon in bed. And worst of all, they
would crash all night with Sandy in her bedroom and play the stereo on full
blast so that Chris couldn't get to sleep until the east turned yellow.
But damn it, you couldn't help but love Sandy no matter how many times
she broke a promise or borrowed money. She was a true friend, a real sister,
and Chris would do anything to help her roommate. After all, Sandy had stuck
by Chris through all her traumas and hard times, always offering everything she had to give.
Like the time Chris's parents had decided to make a surprise Sunday
afternoon visit to their oldest daughter in college, and Sandy had given up her
afternoon to chat and play hostess to Mr. and Mrs. O'Brien while Chris lay in
frozen silence behind her bedroom door with her boyfriend after a night of
de-flowering love making. Chris had been far too embarrassed and shame-faced
guilty to face her parents, especially with Dick haggling her for a second time
around. Hadn't Chris a debt to pay there? Return one good turn for another?
Sandy had shrugged it off, saying she enjoyed company. True, the dark haired
girl did like people.
That, succinctly, was another one of Sandy's problems. But nobody could
blame her. Everybody said she was lucky not to be scared for life. And to
think her step-father was responsible.
Chris felt a wave of nauseating guilt. She drew heavily on the last drag
of the tortured cigarette and snuffed out the filter in the carbon-stained
seashell. For some unaccountable reason Chris sensed that she shouldn't even
be thinking about Sandy's problems... that lurid, terrifying story had been
related in confidence, and Chris wasn't even sure she had the facts straight.
The antidepressant drugs -- stelazine and meloril -- the doctors administered
to Sandy that night in the hospital after she'd attempted to commit suicide by
threatening to jump out of a ten story campus building because of a breaking up
with her boy friend, had triggered her memory and blurred her speech.
Chris had spent the night in the psych ward of the University hospital
holding Sandy's cold, clammy hand and listening to the mumbled horror of a
childhood nightmare. Had Sandy the courage to relate her story without the
mellowing effect of drugs to ease the emotional and physical torture that
scorched her body each time she talked about it, Chris was certain the
objective truth might run like this:
The day that Sandy was to remember forever had dawned very hot, and she
had decided to go for a walk down by the creek to get a bit of sunshine and
daydream as twelve-year-olds do. A physically mature girl for her years, the
black haired girl had walked with her back curved and her full young breasts
jutting out and bouncingly firmly. She'd been happy; her mother, after a year
of husbandless loneliness, had married a man at last, and Sandy was happy to
have a father.
Sandy strolled along, occasionally raising her hand to shield her eyes
against the glare of the sun. Born and raised in the Michigan countryside, she
loved the out-of-doors and especially the creek, where as a child she used to
build log dams and fish for trout in the cool fresh water. She sauntered down
to the creek that ran through their property, down to its shady banks where she
drifted under the willow trees, feeling the coolness like caressing fingers all
over her body, and finally reached a sheltered place she knew. It was a spot
where the creek widened out into a crystal pool that was hidden from all eyes
by the bushes and a natural embankment. Here, Sandy kicked off her shoes and
waded ankle-deep in the water, playfully kicking up a spray, with her dress
showing a flash of nakedly white thigh. Here, in the tiny glen, Sandy felt
that she was safe to do as she wanted.
It felt good being out of the house, because things hadn't been going as
smoothly as the twelve year old thought they should. There had been much
arguing between her mother and step-father, much of it having to do with Sandy
and her newly discovered social life. Already at the approaching teenage year,
she had dated once or twice and her step-father thought she was being too loose
for a girl her age. He had made accusations which sent her mother into tears,
and Sandy had the feeling he'd been following her, something her mother refused
to believe of her new husband.
The young brunette hadn't counted on the prying eyes of her step-father,
who made his quiet way up and down the creek embankment, and now stood looking
down at Sandy tossing her thick mane of black hair. He crouched down behind a
tree on the top of the knoll and watched Sandy sprawl in the grass and turn her
face up to the warming sun. Her face was delicate, with a slender nose that
ended in a provocative tilt. There was also a tilt to her wide pale green
eyes. Her face was delicate and feminine, right down to her wide, fleshy mouth.
But it was her voluptuous young body that excited her step-father and
made him chew on his lips. He watched his step-daughter from behind the tree
and saw Sandy lean all her weight back on her arms, letting her head even
further back so that her face and throat were presented to the warming sun. She
raised one leg and bent the knee. The man held his breath as he watched her
firmly white thighs. He saw her sprawled with the hem of her dress in her lap
and her legs spread as she let the knee wantonly fall over to one side,
revealing the tight white band of her panties that so snuggly held and hid her
pussy. He stared as though mesmerized at the flimsly white panties covering
the treasure he wanted to so badly to see, then blinked and wiped sweat from
the palms of his hands by rubbing them on his pants.
Christ, his wife had one hell of a good looking daughter, alright. A lot
of style for a young girl, the way she strutted her stuff, flashing her ripe
breasts in front of the young guys. And already she'd come home at two o'clock
in the morning on two different occasions. Hell if she wasn't out getting it!
Sandy sank back, her eyes closed, smiling slightly at the kiss of the sun
on her face and neck. It felt good! The rays caressed her flesh and made her
tingle in a drowsy kind of way. A slight breeze blew and sent ripples of
pleasure over her face and neck. Sandy listened for a moment while lazily
thinking how nice it would feel if she were to...
Her step father was like an Indian, freezing immediately when he saw the
girl sit up and open her eyes and look around. Slowly, he sank back into the
shade of the tree and held his breath. With one eye, he watched Sandy glance
around and cock her head as if listening for something. Had he made a noise or
did she hear someone coming? He was sure she'd run off and was waiting for her
boy friend to show up.
No! He held his breath and felt his rapidly awakening cock give a hard
jerk in his pants as he saw her unbuttoning the front of her dress and pull it
free of her creamy shoulders and gather it around her incredibly slender waist.
His mouth went dry as he saw her sitting with her breasts looking so full blown
that they were literally stuffed into the bra and were straining to burst free.
He watched as Sandy reached behind her with both arms. Her breasts jutted
forward and up as she worked with the clasp in the hollow of her back. Her
fingers snapped the clasp and her ripely fleshed mounds sprang quivering free.
The step-father, George, almost yelled and his cock jerked again so
powerfully in the tight confinement of his jockey shorts that he bent over in pain.
Jesus, Christ! His step-daughter had beautiful tits!
His mouth was as dry as sand as he looked at her two nakedly free breasts
with their tightly tensed nipples so dark and round. He watched her breasts
quiver and shake in a wantonly provocative way; they were ripe and round with
half-moons of shadow under them as she again leaned back all her weight on her
arms and let her head loll back with her eyes closed. Her breasts were jutting
up, right at him and the older man felt he could leap up, run down, surprise
her, and grab those tits in his hands... and massage them... and put his hungry
mouth over those tautly teasing nipples and bite and suck on them. He bent
over again, forced to adjust his swelling cock in his pants.
"Jesus, I'm in for a show!" He whispered the words in his dry, caked
throat as he waited for her boy friend to show up.
His hand swatted at the sweat forming on his upper lip just as Sandy sat
up again, and looked around with a dreamy expression. He sank back further,
keeping one eye on her and one hand on his painfully tight groin.
Sandy was feeling good, very good... and a little bold and wicked.
Supposing someone should come along? She smiled, knowing that no one would.
Only her mother was at home, and she was doing the wash. And her
step-father... well, he was probably in town getting drunk. After all, it was
Saturday afternoon. Just as well, her step-father had been accusing her of all
sorts of ridiculous things of late, and she'd just as soon he spent his time on
a bar stool, rather than trying to play father which he failed so miserably at.
Satisfied, she felt safe, felt that this was her day, her hour, that she
could be safely alone and do exactly as she pleased, that she could be free and
enjoy the sun. Free! The word hummed through her head like a song, a wantonly
sensuous song. She cupped her budding breasts with either hand, touching them
softly and intimately, her fingertips brushing across her already distended
nipples as she marveled at the way her body had changed so dramatically in the
last six months. Already the boys at school were calling her a cock teaser
because of the way she strutted proudly. A thrill of lustful desire swept
through her body, mixing, smoking and brooding, in her groin. Her entire young
body seemed to, for a minute, throb with the hotly liquid desire of being a ripe woman.
Sandy almost lost her balance as she felt desire ripple through her body
in increasing undulations as her fingertips brushed back and forth across her
nipples. It felt so good!
God damn! She's acting like some twenty-two year old whore!
Lust twisted his face as he watched the unsuspecting girl gently teasing
and exciting herself. He was right about her. She was putting out for
somebody! Somebody definitely was getting her nooky! He clenched his fist and
crouched low behind the tree, preparing to charge. He couldn't stand watching
any longer and, damn, her mother never did that for him!
He was just about to go barreling down the hill as if her were pulling
off an off-tackle plunge when he froze, catching his breath in an audible way
he was afraid she heard. She was sitting up again and using her hands to push
the dress down over her creamy-white hips. He held his breath as he watched
her rocking from one cheek of her buttocks to the other, wiggling and writhing
lazily as she brazenly slipped the bunched up dress down over her thigh and all
the way down to her knees. She sat for a moment in her little white bikinis,
feeling so drowsy in the sun.
George licked his dry lips and watched her with her naked breasts caught
between her arms, pressing her cleavage tightly deep. Her breasts ballooned
under her arms, making her nipples more tautly tempting than ever before. His
eyes greedily took in her firmly flat stomach with its navel plainly visible as
her abdomen tautly rippled when she again leaned back on her arms and tossed
her wild black mane of hair.
Sandy basked in the gently, sensuous warmth of the sun. She closed her
eyes and felt it warming her all over. On an impulse, she again sat up and
hooked her dainty thumbs in her flimsy panties and pulled them off, feeling a
rush of cooling air on her heat-moistened cuntal slit and in the deeply tight
crevice of her buttocks.
George felt his body quivering like a big cat ready to leap. There she
was before him, totally naked, her sensually voluptuous body so young and firm
with a rubbery kind of resilience. He watched her breasts twin white orbs
quiver elastically as she moved, lying down and stretching out in the hot sun.
He saw her young naked loins moving enticingly as she stretched her legs.
His eyes were drawn to her groin where her firmly shaped thighs met her
nakedly tempting torso and he saw her softly parted pubic hair that fuzzed out
virginally. His eyes fastened on that slit and he caught a glimpse of warmly
pink cuntal flesh as she lazily spread her legs. Her pulpy pussy lips were
already glistening and swelling even as he watched. His cock throbbed and
lunged once like a wild animal seeking freedom, and he gritted his teeth hard
in an effort at self control.
Sandy lolled back, closed her eyes, basking in the gently warming rays of
the sun and gradually becoming sensually aware of her own naked body. She felt
her genitals growing moist with a throbbing itch, and her hands whispered over
her ripely swelling breasts once more, her fingers teasingly skimming back and
forth. Then she let her hands trail down, down over her contoured stomach and
over her navel to the sparse triangle of pubic hair that was beginning to
sprout there. She felt wantonly hot and she raised one knee slightly as her
fingertips skimmed down the length of her wetly swelling slit. She felt the
moist warm heat of her own cunt, and a tiny moan of delight escaped her lips.
The sun, her hands, they felt so good!
Her fingers began tenderly probing and exploring her teased clitoris into
an erect life of its own. She felt a rippling erotic pleasure tingle through
her naked pussy under her gentle ministrations. She felt so devilishly wicked
as she allowed her hips to jut obscenely upward while her finger slid up and
down the heated lubricated slit in an ever increasing rhythm.
A crash from up on the embankment made the young brunette sit bolt
upright, a strangled cry frozen in her throat. She didn't have any time to
move before her step-father crashed on top of her with savagely guttural snarl.
Sandy was knocked completely over, her naked loins flashing, her young breasts
bouncing. They rolled over and over under the impact of his charge and ended
up right next to the pond, with George on top of her.
Sandy was seeing stars, and her lungs felt like they were on fire as she
gasped for breath and tried hard not to pass out. She opened her mouth to cry
out but George clamped his hand roughly over her mouth. "Shuddup, you little
bitch," he snarled. His wild eyed face was only inches from her. She could
smell beer on his breath. He had been drinking again! His lips were twisted
in a facsimile of a grin. "You make one sound, one little peep, and I'll beat
the living shit outta you."
The words were hissed, spat out in her face and her whole body tensed as
she tried to shirk away from him. He gradually removed his hand from her
mouth, keeping one finger held up as a warning. Slowly, he removed his weight,
getting up and allowing her to catch her breath with her breasts ripely heaving
up and down to in front of his eyes. She watched him with wide-open eyes as he
began taking off his shirt. She couldn't believe her step-father was doing
this to her! My God, he had to be insane! Or did he really hate her that much?
He pulled off his pants and kicked them to the side. She gave a gasp of
horror as she saw the hugely obscene bulge in his jockey shorts. His cock was
so big he had trouble getting it out of the underwear until finally it sprang
free with a life of its own. Her hand flew to her mouth as he stood nakedly
menacing over her. His cock! It was so huge! She had no idea men's cocks
could get so big. He held it lightly with one hand, sadistic grin on his
brutal face. She stared up at the lust-swollen, blood-red mushroom head. She
saw his thick white shaft with the bulging veins and, as she watched, her heart
pounding, he pulled back the tautly tight sheath of foreskin and the flanged
head ballooned out, red and shining. "No!" she cried, her voice trembling.
"Come on, you're putting out for those young boys," he growled. "And now
you're gonna put out for me!"
"N-no! Never, n-never b-b-before!" she stammered.
"Don't give me that shit! You been staying out almost all night with
those studs. Don't tell me you ain't fucked before." He crouched over her, his
voice grating, his long massively pulsating cock held firmly in one hand. "I'm
going to fuck you to within an inch of your life."
"No! Help! Mother!" Sandy rose up, crying out as loud as she could. She
never even saw the punch. She felt it as the world seemed to explode right in
front of her eyes; her head snapped around and she fell backward heavily,
feeling the pain sponge deeply into her face.
George kneeled over her naked young torso, sitting on her stomach and
slapped her face back and forth with an open hand. Sandy tried to ward off his
stinging blows but found she was too weak and stunned to have much effect. His
strength was incredible and brutally effective as he seized her wrists and bent
her arms back above her head just as his hotly wet mouth clamped over hers and
she felt his hot tongue wetly probing into her mouth.
She tried to yell, but his fiery hot tongue slid in her mouth and lewdly
lashed at her own tongue. The terrified young girl fought for her breath as
his tongue pumped lewdly and wantonly in and out of her mouth. Despite her
terror and pain, a certain lasciviousness rippled through her body pleasurefully.
George was grunting like a madman as he pulled his cruel wet mouth away
from her bruised lips and hissed. "You make one sound, and I swear I'll punch you silly!"
Again she tensed. She believed him; she believed he might even kill her.
He was wild, his eyes were bloodshot, his breath reeked of stale beer, and his
hands were hurting her wrists as he squeezed them tightly to show he meant business.
George shifted his weight and looked hungrily down at her large fleshy
breasts in all their firmly erect splendor. With her hands forced up above her
head and pinned there by his grip, her breasts were arched with her nipples
right below his face. With a savagely cruel chuckle, he lowered his hot wet
mouth and clamped his tongue and lips over one pinkly erect little nipple.
"Nnnnoooooo!" Sandy moaned, her head rolling back and forth as she felt
him first suck, then bite the nipple so hard she winced. Despite the pain, she
felt an unexpected ripple of pleasure mix deep down in her loins... a
masochistic thrill at being so helpless while his hungry mouth ravaged her
nipple, sucking and nibbling it into a tautly hot shape of its own.
"Oooooh, God, please stop!" she whispered, her voice hoarse, afraid to
yell. She shivered with fear as his voracious mouth moved over to clamp on her
other breasts, and she felt that second nipple being sucked until it ached with
a combination of wanton desire and physical pain. She knew there were red
teeth marks in the hotly tender flesh of her breasts.
"N-N-noooo!" she wailed as her hateful step-father shifted his weight on
top of her, his thickly muscled chest crushing her ravaged breasts and pushing
the breath out of her tortured lungs as he grunted, "Spread 'em, Baby! Spread your legs!"
"No! Please! I'll give you anything... I-I won't tell Mom." Tears
welled up in the naked young brunette's eyes from the pain and fear as she felt
his heatedly pulsating cock pressing against her stomach. It felt hard and hot
and thick and huge! He was going to tear her apart with that big obscene thing!
"Anything?" he asked between gritted teeth.
"Anything!" Tears snaked down her flushed twelve year old face, and for
a wild second she thought she might be getting out of it.
"How about a little nookey?" His laughter was wild and harsh.
Sandy screamed again and received another sharp blow that almost knocked
her out. Dimly, her strength ebbing, she realized he was forcing her legs
wide. She felt his powerful loins between her legs, and then her eyes opened
very wide, and she screamed in pain as she felt the thick head massively
pushing on her virginally tight pussy lips.
"Aaaaggghhhh!"
His teeth tightly gritted, his lips twisting open wide, he thrust with
all the brute strength he possessed. He was driven wild with the taste and
smell of her. He felt the thickly blunt end of his cock spreading her wetly
cringing cunt as he bore down hard. She whimpered and the sound caused him to
thrust forward with brutal delight.
The flanged head of his cock plopped just inside her tight, hotly
quivering little cunt with a wet tearing sound. Sandy felt herself impaled on
his heatedly pulsing cock. His massive cock head was buried just inside of her
cunt with her cuntal lips drawn tight as rubberbands around the thick shaft.
Sandy was positive he was going to shove his massive maledom clear up into her
belly and on past, on up into her throat itself. She trembled with abject
fear, sending her cunt into an oddly pleasing quiver around the throbbing head.
She smelled his sexual heat, and felt his huge cock like a throbbing piece of
hot meat lodged in her virginal pussy -- the treasure she had saved for the right boy.
Slowly, with a cold-blooded brutality, George began pumping his hips,
moving his rigidly thick cock like a huge piston plunging in and out of her tender flesh.
Sandy couldn't move, and she gasped for breath and tried to keep from
screaming as she felt the lust-thickened shaft spreading her cuntal walls until
it seemed they surely were being ripped from her clitoris to anus. She lay
rigid, her cruelly violated young body trembling in spasms of fear and guilt.
Guilt! She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, tried not to think about
the wanton excitement she had begun feeling with each brutal, pain-filled
thrust; she couldn't help herself, and the more she tried not to think of it,
the bigger and harder his cock became ... and finally she was forced to admit
to herself that she was enjoying it!
She loved it -- all twelve childish years of her!
A sudden stab of guilt shuddered through her body as she felt her wetly
pulsating cuntal lips inched in with each wonderfully heated thrust of her
mother's husband's heated shaft. On each withdrawal stroke she felt them
clinging to his hardened shaft and the obscenely exciting mental picture of
what was happening made searing spasms of pleasure streak through her loins and
caused her puckered little anus to tremble with delight. She was enjoying
making love to her own stepfather!
She knew she shouldn't be liking it, knew she was being brutally raped,
that she was being marked forevermore, she knew it and felt full of fear and
pain. Her pain made her sob real tears and babble incoherently for George to
stop. Her head thrashed from side to side, and she bit her lips against the
increasing pleasure she was feeling with each deeper stroke of his hotly
rampaging cock. She fought against the itching urge in her hips to pump them
lewdly back and forth. The more she tried not to think of it, the more she
enjoyed it. She loved it!
There was something so thrilling about being so helpless while being
fucked! She shuddered and her mouth fell wantonly open as she gave out a
half-cry, half moan. The cry ended in a deep moan, a moan as rich and deep as
a cello; her father grinned triumphantly as he saw her face and began fucking
her harder and faster.
He went crazy, fucking her insanely, his thick, wetly glistening cock
slamming mercilessly in and out of her hideously stretched cunt, his balls
slapping rhythmically against her thrashing, softly fleshed buttocks. He
fucked her with all his might, lifting her hips up off the grassy ground and
slamming her down again, ramming all the way into her, feeling his mushroom
head slam into her young cervix deep in that velvet volcano that was her tight
little pussy.
It was as if all restraining bonds had burst inside Sandy for she lewdly
threw back her head and thrust her nakedly straining breasts up at his face,
all the while wantonly pumping her hips up and down. She was suddenly a lewdly
writhing animal, curling her legs and arms around his hard body in an effort to
take all the cock he could offer.
Her mouth was open, her eyes closed, and she moaned with an obscene
delight as she gripped his hotly plunging shaft hard with her cuntal muscles.
She saw his eyes squint with pain and delight. He grinned savagely at her, and
then their needy mouths locked together, step-daughter and step-father, while
the girl ground her hips up into his groin and bent her knees as much as she
could. She wanted all of him in her, every last single inch.
George gripped her with all his strength, his eyes bulging. He was going
to give her the fucking of his life, a fucking she would never forget. He
gathered his strength, his teeth gritted. Damn, but she's tight, he thought.
He enjoyed the rubber-glove feeling of tightness he was getting in her
moistly hot little pussy. She trembled ecstatically at his slightest movement,
and he knew she was enjoying it. He could feel the rubbery tightness in her
cuntal lips and the taut exciting way her tiny erect clitoris stood up when his
pubic hair rubbed against it. She was loving it! She was a slut and loving
every minute of it!
They fucked, their now sweating bodies locked belly-to-belly as they
writhed and undulated. He crushed her with his arms as he gasped, "You love it, you little bitch!"
Her only reply was a low moan and her hips moved as if they were on ball
bearings as she fucked up against him with a wanton abandonment.
"Tell me you love it!"
Again she moaned as their sweating stomachs slid one against the other.
"Tell me!"
"I... I... like..."
"Tell me!" his voice was a growl as his wetly lubricated cock slammed
like a jack hammer in and out of her tightly fitting cunt.
"I... I like it."
"Louder!"
"I like it. I like it." Her voice began to waver and rise as she felt
the fucking rhythm increase and she worked to match thrust and thrust. She
could feel his heavy balls slapping wetly against the tightly clenched cheeks
of her buttocks. Her cuntal lubricant had seeped down into her anal crevice as
she fucked him with obscene abandon. "I lllloovveee it!!!" Her voice was low
and wanton, "I love it, fuck it, hurt me, fuck me, rape me!" She was screaming
with lust now, and it seemed his cruel hurting hands were everywhere at once,
all over her body; at her hips, her thighs, her nipples, raking across her
wildly thrashing buttocks and splitting her ass-cheeks open while a cruel
outstretched finger stabbed at her puckered little anus!
"Fuck me, fuck me all night!" she moaned, spitting the word, "Fuck" out
with delight and feeling and obscene pleasure shudder through her body at the
forbidden word. "Fuck me!"
George closed his eyes and thought of nothing but driving it home. They
fucked, crushing the wild sweet grass beneath their bodies, slipping and
bucking across the slope until they were splashing in the water. I'll continue
to fuck her even if she drowns! Fuck it, I ain't gonna stop now.
He fucked her as he felt her tensing beneath him and her moaning becoming
deeper and more rhythmic; it was only then that he felt his own heated cum
building in his balls to the point where they ached.
"Aaaaagghhh!" He felt her body suddenly full of a wanton strength as she
arched up beneath him and her body began trembling deeply. Then she was
fighting him like a game fish before falling back into helpless spasms of
searing ecstasy as her first orgasm convulsed her.
That was too much for the step-father and, with a guttural roar, he came,
pumping powerful spurts of his white-hot cum deep into her cunt, filling her up
so that it spurted out all around his wildly jerking shaft. Then grinning, he
pulled his eagerly ejaculating cock out and let it flop on her stomach where it
continued to pump sticky white sperm onto her nakedly rippling stomach.
She lay with her loins and stomach glistening with cum, completely
relaxed, feeling like putty, feeling tired, very tired ... and a little
uncertain about her own emotions.
George rolled off her with a groan and lay catching his breath for awhile
before he got up and slowly dressed. His clothes on, he looked down at the
still naked Sandy and spat in the water, then turned and climbed up the
embankment.
Left by herself, Sandy had rolled over, sobbed, and lay still until it
was almost dark. Then she slowly got dressed, a sad and weary young girl and
went home. Two months later she realized her afternoon encounter had left her
pregnant. She'd let her mother believe it was Curtis' fault, a young freshman
boy she'd been seeing on the sly. It caused an uproar, predictably enough, but
the reticent girl refused to tell the truth, reasoning she had been hurt
enough, there was no reason to destroy her mother's life, too.
The baby was adopted out from the hospital -- a darling seven pound baby
girl with black hair and brown eyes. Sandy had seen her infant through the
maternity ward's glass window, but never once did she hold her baby, never felt
it squirm in her arms. For nine months she had been holed up with nothing to
do but watch her body grow to a distended grotesque shape, and those months in
solitude had taken their toll. The thirteen year old girl made a vow to
herself on her first teenage birthday, to never, never allow any one man to
claim such a great part of her.
Any psychiatrist would say it was a natural rebellious response to a
stressful situation, that she had been far too young to bear the burden alone
with no natural father to help her through the rough times and dreary, lonely nights.
Predictably, it had been all down hill from there, though Chris would
never have believed it possible for her girlfriend to sink any lower into the
depths of confused depravity she was exhibiting now in her twenty-second year
of life. From what little Sandy had confessed, she'd spent most of her time
hot-rodding around town with the loose crowd in high school -- smoking dope,
drinking beer, having wild parties. Everything a young girl should not even
know about, let alone indulge in.
In college it had been the same way. Chris was the only friend who stuck
by her, sometimes out of pity, occasionally out of unsatisfied desire to have a
sister, but always out of genuine sincere friendship for Sandy, confused and
ravaged though she had become.
Sandy's carefree, live-for-today, the hell-with-tomorrow attitudes could
be a bit disconcerting sometimes, though, particularly when Sandy seemed to
bounce from one man to the next, from one affair to another, without a trace of
scars from the frequent, and often tempestuous breakups.
And Chris, her one and only real love experience now just a shattered
memory, still hated herself for crying softly sometimes in the night as she
remembered those wonderful times with Mark. She hated him now, loathed his
brutality and cowardice, but she still thought of him on lonely nights when she
lay there on the other side of the door listening to her roommate making love
in low soft whispers and giggles.
Chris O'Brien stared out of the window, watching Sandy get off the Geary
Street bus, a boy right behind her. Chris witnessed all of Sandy's feminine
tricks: the flinging of her long black mane of her hair over her shoulder, the
hip-thrust stance that could provoke the Pope himself, and the carefree style
in which she handed the stranger her telephone number as casually as if he were
asking for a donation for the Salvation Army. Oh, no, thought Chris with a
gasp of disbelief. Another night listening to Sandy making it with another
stranger... it never ends. She let the curtain fall from her clutching
fingertips with a movement that might have been a sigh.
