The seething passions that lurk within many individuals are often hidden beneath a veneer of normalcy, exposed only under extremely tempting circumstances.
The woman who, after a few drinks at a party, takes on all comers, male and female alike. The man who, during a strip show at a stag party, climbs up on stag with the girl and performs with her in front of his friends. The couple who, under group pressure, reluctantly join the neighborhood wife-swappers.
Lynn Stevens is one of these outwardly proper and quite normal people. A healthy, attractive teenager, she has no reason to think she is different from other girls her age. But within her a love of degradation and a desire to be debased lies coiled like a snake, waiting only for the proper stimulus to arouse it.
- a fictional story about those who appear normal, but whose needs are different.
-The Publisher
Chapter One
His eyes on the heavy action on the drive-in screen, Carl Smith curled his fingers around the lush mass of Sandra's breast. He could feel the heat of her soft flesh through her tee shirt. Her nipple jutted eagerly, pressed against his palm like a tiny burrowing animal. His cock was hard as rock as he pressed her tit mound, felt her meat squirm.
"My, you are the hot one tonight," Sandra purred. Through his tight jeans her fingers were playing a tune on his stiff dick.
Carl didn't answer. Although, his hand was on Sandra's tit, and his eyes were on the carnally locked couple in the X-rated flick, his mind was somewhere else. It was with Lynn Stevens. His gut was boiling with desire for her and fury with her. He was remembering the afternoon with the teasing little bitch. Her shirt had been tied under the jutting firmness of her teenage tits. But any attempt to untie the knot had been met with a coy giggle and a lithe twist. The same thing had happened when he tried to slip his fingers into the blouse. Even when he had tried to grab a feel through the shirt she had danced away.
It wouldn't have been so damn frustrating if only she hadn't kept leading him on at the same time. The flickering wicked smile, the glint in her eyes, the way her tongue danced along her upper lip - all of it was calculated to make his lust boil. Her bare midriff, the tight cut-off jeans that hugged the cheeks of her butt - everything was designed to keep his cock aching.
Her kisses were unbelievable - sucking, sweet, sopping open-mouthed invitations to rape. He could still feel his teeth clicking against hers as the tongues tangled ecstatically.
Then she would twist out of his grasp, and, while those beautiful boobs rose and fell with her panting, waggle a warming finger. She played him like a fish on a line until he was ready to cream in his pants.
The fact that he was thinking of her while Sandra was working his belt open, pulling his fly down, freeing his cock, was evidence of the hold Lynn had on him. He heard Sandra's gasp of pleasure as her fingers gained possession of his thrusting dork. He felt her turn, and managed to fasten his lips on hers and drive his tongue into her eager mouth. He fumbled with her tee shirt, eased it upwards. His palm stroked the hot silkiness of her torso as he groped for her hot globe. Her fingers tickled madly over his prick.
His mind kept returning to Lynn. He could see the wicked flash in her eyes, the sensuous curve of her lips. And, as always, the darting, teasing tongue that promised so much.
He freed Sandra's hot breast by cramming the shirt into a tangle above her breasts, up under her arms. His fingers closed on her tit, clamped down with all the frustration Lynn had left, dug into the soft mound with bruising force. Sandra moaned into his mouth. Her grasp on his cock tightened until it hurt.
After the afternoon with Lynn, Carl was on the ragged edge of cumming. His balls had been aching for hours. Only the appearance of Sandra - ready, willing Sandra - had kept him from beating off to relieve the titanic pressure Lynn had built up in him.
But he didn't want to spear Sandra once and then flood her twat with fizz. He wanted to give the girl a decent fuck. She had a rep for dumping guys who didn't bring her off, and if he kept missing with Lynn, and he knew somehow that he would, he would need Sandra.
"Suck me, baby," Carl urged her, guiding her head toward his lap. "Suck me, and later I'll fuck you 'til your eyes pop."
Sandra eased down toward his thrusting wang. Carl pushed gently on the back of her neck. He kept one hand cupped under her heavy tit, kept stroking and fondling the soft mass as she dipped her head toward his cock. On the screen, a naked blonde carefully tucked her hair behind her ear so the camera could get a close-up of her mouth encircling a mammoth dork. As the blonde's lips closed on the purple knob of the actor's schlang, Sandra's hot tongue stroked the tip of Carl's pecker.
Carl thought of Lynn's tongue touching his dick tip, whipping his throbbing knob. His hand squeezed Sandra's tit with gut-knotting frustration. The blonde on the screen slid the cock deep into her mouth. Carl's balls throbbed.
Sandra knelt on the front seat of the car and fucked her face on his dick. Without really thinking about it, he reached under her belly and flicked the button of her cut-offs loose, then pried the zipper down. As her hot mouth engulfed half his dork, he shoved her pants and panties off her, bared the lush, pale moons of her rear. His hand stroked the crack of her tail as she drew on his prick. He couldn't get the idea of doing this to Lynn out of his mind. He couldn't force from his memory the sight of Lynn's tight ass twitching down the street as he drove up behind her. He had seen her glance over her shoulder at him. That lush ass roll had been for his benefit.
Carl slipped his fingers down Sandra's rear until he felt the humid softness of her pussy. As Sandra stroked his dong with her hot tongue, his finger pried between her cunt lips and slid into her slippery tunnel. On the movie screen the blonde was moving her head up and down on the actor's shaft. She would pause every few moments and theatrically lick the underside of his cock.
Carl's balls felt as big as grapefruits. His whole crotch was a searing knot of horniness. He felt like he had gallons of cum stored up. He groaned and squirmed as Sandra's throat gulped at the head of his dork. The blonde in the movie was working her lips on the actor's pecker, working them to draw another inch of the heavy tower into her sucking mouth. Her spit trickled down the hard column, smeared the fingers she was using to steady her meal.
Carl's hips began to hump. He drew his finger out of Sandra's sopping twat, then drove it back into the hot, slick hole. He thought of his cock spearing between Lynn's slender thighs, and felt a hot drizzle of juice seep into Sandra's maw.
The blonde was bobbing her head harder and faster now. Her hair swirled around her face in spite of her efforts to keep it back out of the camera's way. Her face was shiny with sweat as she sucked the actor's cock. He had one hand tangled in her hair, and was guiding her moves.
Carl wondered if there was any way he could thrust his throbbing hard-on to the back of Lynn's throat. The thought of filling her teasing mouth with dork brought a hot surge of excitement to his guts. Revenge would be sweet. His hips hammered up, slammed his dick into Sandra's gulping mouth just as she was coming down.
She gagged, and moaned, and pulled up off him. After she caught her breath she went back to it. Her mouth enfolded his shaft like a hot, wet blanket, sent his lust soaring. He wriggled a second finger into her sopping twat as her ass squirmed and wriggled in the air.
The movie blonde had her head jerked rudely up off her meal. The gleaming shaft pulsed. The camera zoomed in, showed sperm spurting from the purple knob. The thick pearly gobbets leapt and jumped in the air. A thick driblet of jism spattered the actress's cheek. Then heavy waves drooled down the ,actor's cock and onto her fingers. She came down on his dork, his still pumping prick, and embraced the spurting head with her lips so she could take the rest of the load in her mouth.
The sight, and the thought of pouring shot after shot of blazing cum into Lynn's teasing mouth set Carl off like a missile. His balls convulsed, his ass cheeks knotted, his groin cramped, and he felt the first spurt rip the length of his dick like a wad of seething acid. Sandra wasn't working for the benefit of a camera. She took every bit with her lips and tongue, slurped up every gooey spouting. Carl wiggled his fingers in her soupy pussy as he poured wave after wave of jizz down her throat. All the horniness Lynn had built in his groin was unloaded into Sandra.
Up on the screen the actress was licking her partner's prick, sucking off the last pearly drops of jism. After carefully cleaning his dick, she sat up. Her heavy tits swayed lushly as she licked her fingers while the actor watched. The camera drew back, showed them together on the bed.
"Mmmmm, what a meal," Sandra purred. Carl pulled his fingers out of her pussy. She sat up. Her tits gleamed in the light from the screen. He kissed her, tasted his cream on her lips and tongue.
"Baby,- you are something else," Carl told her, his mind still more on Lynn than the girl he was with.
"Yeah, well, you better be able to get it up for me again," she warned.
"Don't worry, I've got lots more where that came from," he assured her.
Making no move to cover her breasts or pull her pants up, Sandra sat back. "Yeah, well, while you're recharging your batteries, how about getting me a drink?"
Carl began fastening his jeans. "What's the matter, don't you like the taste of cum?"
"It's like the finest wine, right when I take it," Sandra answered. "But a bit persistent, if you know what I mean."
"I don't, but I'll get you a drink anyway," Carl said, opening his door and slipping out into the darkness. "Back in a minute."
On the screen some attempt was being made at a plot. The drive-in was packed. There was constant motion toward the rest rooms and the food counter. The flow swelled and ebbed depending on the action on the screen. Carl unloaded his bladder, then went and filled a tray with colas and burgers and fries.
As he made his way to the back row of cars, he wondered how many tons of rubber were raked up every night. They looked like dead phosphorescent eels against the dark gravel. Reaching the car, he balanced the tray on one hand and opened the door wide. The dome light flicked on, and, when he saw Sandra, he almost dumped the food all over the seat. He threw himself in and slammed the door, hid her lush body in darkness. She was totally nude, and was sitting with her back against the passenger side door. Her sleek legs were stretched across the seat. She drew them back, bent her knees to give him room. The drinks were slapping against the plastic cup lids.
"Jesus Christ, you want to get us busted?" he asked, looking at her, wondering what she had done with her tee shirt and pants.
Sandra smiled lazily, and rubbed his thigh sensuously with her foot. "Just wanted to be ready for the main event," she purred. "Relax, they don't patrol this joint. Where's my drink?"
The crushed ice acted like an alarm, betrayed the shaking of his hand as he passed her cola over. "Got burgers and fries, too."
"Good, build up your strength," she teased.
He managed somehow to resign himself to her nudity. As he salted his potatoes, he turned to study her. Her breasts were exciting masses of silver flesh and jet black shadow. Her nipples were dark cones. Her pussy was in shadow, but her thighs were lit faintly.
"Bet you don't dare to get comfortable," she challenged. "You're gonna be bent over like a croquet hoop if you don't let your hard-on out." Stung, he yanked his jeans open, and let his throbbing pecker rest against the cool arc of the steering wheel as he slouched down. Then he looked over at her and grinned. Another hard ball of horniness was swelling in his gut.
The lips that had just sucked his cock sucked soft drink through a straw. Then he watched her sensuously munch down a limp, catsup-dripping French fry. "Saw you with Lynn Stevens this afternoon," she informed him.
"The fuck you did!"
Sandra provocatively ate another French fry. "You picked her upon Main Street, by the Post Office."
"So?"
Sandra reached down and wiped a blob of catsup off one naked tit. She sucked the red paste off her finger before she answered. "Don't know why you bother with that bitch. She's how old? Fourteen?"
"Fifteen," Carl growled.
"Fifteen!" Sandra snorted. "Skinny little runt doesn't even know what it's all for."
"She's not skinny," Carl retorted defensively. "Thirty-five-B-cup? I call that skinny," she said, and deliberately lifted her own thirty-eight C's and shook them at him.
Carl had no answer to that and glanced at the movie screen. The opening credits for the next flick were on.
"Man, I bet she's got you running in circles," Sandra noted through a mouthful of hamburger. "What do you mean?"
"She's a tease. She's a grade-A cock-tease. If you don't know that by now you're dumber than I thought."
Carl hid behind his soft drink cup. Ice crunched noisily between his teeth.
"She's a cock-teasing bitch," Sandra went on relentlessly. "A professional virgin: I'll bet she hasn't even let you get inside her non-existent, unnecessary bra."
Carl tried not to let Sandra see her shot had hit home.
She snorted. "A worthless bitch, that's what she is."
Carl was stung by her derision, and angry with himself, because she was right. It was stupid to waste time on Lynn. But just the thought of her face, her long brown hair, and her firm maturing tits, was enough to make his cock throb.
"Are we going to talk about Lynn all night, or do you want to fuck?" he asked bluntly, trying to head Sandra off.
She finished her drink and set the cup on the dash. "One thing's for sure."
"What's that?"
She grinned wickedly and let her legs spread slowly. As she sat facing him her hand slipped down to her naked pussy, into the impenetrable shadow there. "So long as you go on seeing her, you'll be ready and eager to prong me whenever I want you to. Because sure as hell, she's not going to give you a chance to get your rocks off in her." "Let's get in the back seat," Carl growled.
"Sure, Baby," Sandra replied, reached over her shoulder to unlock her door.
"Not like that!" Carl snapped.
"Chicken," she sniffed, re-locking the door and crawling onto the back of the seat. She paused, half way over, and wiggled her pale ass at him. Then she tumbled into the back.
The horn blared when Carl inadvertently bumped it. "Shit," he swore as he twisted around. The fact that Sandra was right about Lynn made him mad and clumsy.
"Hello, big boy," Sandra purred, curling her hand around his cock.
"You're a complete wanton, aren't you?" Carl observed.
"I love to fuck," Sandra said, guiding his dick to her cunt. She plowed her furrow with the head, stroked it up and down her hairy slit. His prick tip burned as it tore through her kinky pussy curls.
"And suck," Carl added as he mashed her heavy tits with his hands.
"And suck," she agreed. "And anything else you can think of." She was still dragging his cock head up and down her pussy. Her voice went ragged when his knob stroked her clit.
Sandra had her ass to the movie, and was straddling him as he slumped on the seat. She leaned back, arched her spine as he tortured her tits. Her cunt was thrust forward so she could split her slit with is dork.
"There anything you don't do?" Carl asked, his lust building as his cock was stimulated.
"Course not," she snorted. "Isn't that why you're here with me? Because you know I'll fuck?" "Yeah."
"I sure can't figure why you mess with Lynn." "Will you shut up about her?" he snapped, infuriated.
"Ow!" she yelped as his fingers dug into her naked jugs. "Yeah, okay," she agreed.
"You ever make it with another girl?" Carl asked curiously.
"Yeah," she answered, hissing as she nestled his dick-tip into her cunny. "Why?" He felt his balls steam at the embrace of her sizzling twat.
"I . just love ... to cum," Sandra grunted as she slowly drove herself down on his dork.
The sensation of having his dick gradually enfolded by Sandra's searing pussy brought a new wave of jism from his balls. It pooled in his gut like hot lava.
Carl thought of feeling Lynn's virgin channel taking his throbbing hard-on. He visualized her the way Sandra was, slender and graceful, her firm tits in his grasp as she slowly screwed herself onto his dick. The vision made his groin sizzle.
Sandra jammed down hard on his dork. His balls gave a convulsive gasp as her twat swallowed the full length of his pecker. "Stop thinking about that bitch!" Sandra snarled.
"How'd you know I was thinking about her?" Carl asked, too stunned to deny it.
"You were a million miles away for a moment there," Sandra answered. "Like I was nothing but a fucking machine."
"Well, aren't you?" he challenged.
Sandra pogo-sticked up and down on his dork. The light from the screen turned her pale brown curls into a shining halo around her shadowed face. "I am, but I still want your mind here, with me, not with some damn virgin slit. You want to make an ass of yourself with that cock-teasing bitch, go ahead. But right now, by damn, I want a good fuck and I need your attention to get it."
Carl's anger made his cock harder. "Well, you aren't doing anything to keep my attention;" he retorted.
Sandra slid up and down his cock, made the shaft burn. He felt more cum pooling in his guts. She added a back and forth motion in addition to the up and down one. The pressure when his cock tip dug at her pussy walls made his nuts knot.
On- the screen, over Sandra's shoulder, he could see a skinny redhead being held bent over the back of a chair by one man, while another aimed his cock into her twat from behind. The man's prick vanishing into the red snatch did little to increase Carl's already raging lust. But the sight of the girl being held helpless made something click in his mind. Then the thought was wrenched out of him by a -circular twist Sandra put into her screwing. With his cock almost full depth in her, she swiveled her hips, made his prick paddle her insides. She reached around his arms and began fingering her pussy.
Carl's nuts were a steaming swamp of semen. His whole gut was a knotted ache of horniness as his cock was stroked and battered by Sandra's cunt walls. For a fraction of a second a vision of Lynn flickered in his mind - her glittering eyes, her teasing tongue touching her upper lip as she threw him a coy glance over her shoulder. Then the feel of Sandra's cunt around his flaming hard-on drove the vision away.
"Jesus, you can fuck!"' Carl grunted. He had the feeling his cock was about to be ripped out by the roots.
"Yeah," Sandra panted. "Yeah, man, yeah! Carl struggled to ride with her. At first her wild motions had driven his lust higher. Now they just hurt - his cock was being yanked first one way and then another. He released her tits and grabbed her waist, tried to gain control of the proceedings. Sandra began grunting crazily as she neared her cumming. Carl jammed his cock up into her with quick, sharp drives. He could feel her fingers playing a mad tune on her clit. She kept on swiveling her hips. Then she stopped, started again, stopped sharply, started once more, then stopped dead. He rammed up into her as hard as he could. He felt the walls of her cunt spasming around his aching dork. She was rigid as iron. She wasn't even breathing. After an eternity she let a bit of her locked breath escape in a tight squeak. Then, as the convulsions of her pussy slowly faded, she exhaled. Groaning softly, she slumped forward on him. Her breasts mashed against his tee shirt. Instinctively, he cuddled her in his arms as his eyes focused on the movie. His cock stayed hard as ever as she caught her breath.
On the screen, a buxom brunette, fully clothed for a change, was boldly facing a threatening man. It looked like her hands were tied behind her back. As Carl watched, the man reached out and ripped away her blouse, revealed a monumental pair of heaving breasts. There was a flash of fear and lust on the woman's face, then pain as his hand clutched her jutting jugs.
An idea tickled the back of Carl's mind as he watched the screen and waited for Sandra to recover. Something about the way the man was treating the brunette stirred a responsive chord it Carl. When the man gave a brutal shove, drove the woman onto the bed, Carl felt his insides seethe with arousal. She writhed and bucked helplessly when the man grabbed her black slacks and yanked
them down, exposing her bush.
Carl felt cruel pleasure at the sight of the woman, helpless, being bared to the camera. The man stood back after depriving her of her last covering. With savage deliberation, he stripped while she watched with mingled arousal and tenor. He revealed a monster of a cock - a towering demanding shaft of lust. At the sight of his dick, the bound actress licked her lips and began pleading with him. The hot glow in her eyes betrayed her real feelings.
Carl shifted, stirred his hard-on in Sandra's cunt as the man on the screen advanced on his helpless prey. He was holding his cock in one fist, like it was a gun. The woman wriggled away from him until she was pressed against the wall. Her breasts heaved with her fear - panting.
"Fuck her, Carl grated as the man joined his victim on the bed.
"What?" Sandra asked, puzzled. "The movie."
"Oh. Jeez, you're still hard as a rock," she noted.
"I'll get back to you in a minute," Carl promised, his eyes glued to the rape on the screen. "Ho ho, listen to the big man," Sandra said. "Shut up," Carl snapped.
Something in his tone told Sandra not to mess with him this time.
The actor slammed his cock into the bound woman's belly. She screamed and bucked at the brutal penetration. But there was as much lust as pain on her face as he spitted her on his dork. Although her hands were bound, her legs weren't. She spread them wide, dug her heels into the mattress, jacked her pussy up invitingly.
The man clutched her, and fucked her with quick, sharp, impatient drives. His fingers dug into her tits as he raped her. Her head rolled with lust as she took his cock, heaved and humped beneath him.
Carl's balls knotted tight with horniness as he watched. He could almost feel the woman under him. He loved the idea that she was helpless. He would control the action! He would set the pace, and be damned if she was satisfied or not. He would haul his own ashes, and to hell with-her. For a change, the director let the couple in the movie stay locked, instead of having the man-pull out for a cum shot. The camera swooped in for a close-up of the mammoth pecker parting the black-maned pussy lips. The slithery gleam of the woman's juices was picked out by the hard light. They drizzled down over her puckery asshole, just under the balls of her attacker. The monster cock was pulsing. The actor's ass cheeks were clenching as he unloaded into the helpless woman. A thick creamy gray wave of goo erupted from around his dork and streamed down the actress's ass. Carl thought he was going to cum right then.
He held off, though. By gritting his teeth, he held off until the actor extracted his shrinking pecker from the actress. The brunette lay there limp and exhausted, legs sprawled wide, her chest heaving. Her pussy lips were swollen and flushed. Pearly cum spilled from her ravaged slit.
The man turned away from her as if she no longer existed. Carl returned his attention to Sandra. He twisted her sideways and dumped her on her ass on the car seat. Grabbing one of her ankles, he yanked her foot up to the back of the seat.
Sandra took it. She looked both surprised and excited as he lay over her, braced up on his hands. He raped his cock into her, hard. He felt his pubic arch crash against hers, felt his cock head ram the end of her cunt. Brutally, he slammed into her again and again.
The tide of cum in his guts was rising like it was driven by storm winds. He didn't care who was under him. It was a cunt. He fitted Lynn's face to the body, and his balls got bigger and hotter. All his frustration and fury boiled up as he rammed into Sandra's crotch.
Sandra was grunting with each impact. Her eyes closed and her head rolled as her breasts shivered from the jolts. The windows of the car were steaming up. Her mouth was a loose circle of horniness as he ravaged her. She lay under him almost, but not quite, limp. Her gut was tight as she humped her hips; invited his thrusts. Her hands were over her head, clutching the door handle. Carl imagined Lynn, ropes biting into her wrists, holding her helpless, as he rammed his cock into her. His balls went off. like Fourth of July fireworks. As he clung to the vision, his cock Roman-candled searing spurts of jism into Sandra's spasming cunt. His balls unloaded their fury in a series of volcanic gushes. He hosed her with burning fluid. The excess poured out, made a sticky wet-splotch on the car seat.
When he was done he lay down. His full weight crushed Sandra against the hard seat as he caught his breath. For the first time in weeks, since he had first started seeing Lynn, he was sated. There wasn't the slightest bit of horniness left in him as he dozed on the cushiony masses of Sandra's jugs. "Uhn," Sandra grunted at last. "What?" he asked, rousing from the half sleep.
"Off, dammit," she growled, pushing at him. "What's the matter?" He made no move to get up.
"Can't breathe," she wheezed, shoving harder. With a weary sigh, he heaved himself off her. He felt his dick slither out of her sodden twat. He looked down at her as she lay there on the back, legs still sprawled wide.
"Jesus! What the hell got into you?" she asked. "What's it matter?" he asked, reaching for a cigarette.
"I'll be sore for a week," she complained. "Tough shit," he retorted, blowing a cloud of smoke over her. "You loved it."
"Yeah, I did," she admitted, untangling herself from him and sitting up. She took the cigarette and sucked smoke deep into her magnificent chest.
"So, stop complaining," Carl told her, tucking her under his arm and cupping one tit with his hand. He grabbed the cigarette back and took another drag.
"Oh ho, so that's what did it," Sandra said, catching sight of the movie. Another girl, a blonde, was tied spread-eagle on an old-style pipe-frame bed. A man was humping her madly.
Carl studied the scene with almost intellectual detachment, noted how the ropes were secured to the blonde's wrists and ankles.
"You try something like that with me and I'll rip your balls off," Sandra warned, taking the cigarette.
"I'm not thinking of trying it with you," he assured her.
"Then who ... Lynn?" She didn't see his slight nod. She didn't need to. "I'll be damned," she breathed. "Just what the teasing bitch deserves!"
"Yeah," Carl agreed, hauling his jeans up and fastening them. "Let's get out of here."
"Hey, I want to watch this," Sandra complained.
Carl was tired of her, tired of all women. "Fuck you," he grunted as he scrambled over the seat and dropped behind the steering wheel. Reaching over, he rolled down her window, unhooked the speaker, and returned it to the pole.
"Let me at least get dressed," Sandra complained.
"What's the matter, you turning chicken?" he challenged.
Sandra paused, then dropped the shirt she had been about to pull on. Still naked, she climbed into the front seat. "No. Let's go."
In spite of being totally fucked out, Carl felt a tightening in his groin as he drove out of the theater. The light from the screen played over Sandra's lush body. She folded her arms under her tits, didn't cover them as they drove through town. At one point Carl pulled up next to a truck. He knew the other driver was staring down at Sandra's total exposure. She did nothing to hide her pussy or tits. The truck kept pace for the next three blocks. Then Carl turned off.
He pulled up in front of Sandra's apartment building and stopped. Then he looked at her.
"Well?" he asked challengingly.
There was a satisfying flicker of fear in her eyes. "Well what?" she asked.
"You going to get dressed now? Or walk in like that?" He was daring her.
She bit her lip, and backed down. He felt a surge of triumph as she reached for her clothes and dragged them on. Her back was stiff as she marched up the walk and let herself into the lighted lobby. She turned and gave him the finger before she went to the elevator.
Carl laughed. As he drove away his mind was busy on another scheme.
Chapter Two
Carl watched Lynn from a distance, noted the coy tilt of her head, the straightness of her back. Her tits were jutting against the halter top she was wearing. Jamey Dwayne was practically drooling as he leaned over her. He said something, and Carl saw a nervous flicker of excitement on Lynn's face as she fended Jamey off. Poor guy, didn't have a chance. He was a twerp. Cookie Dwayne, Jamey's twin sister, was there, too. She was sitting on the steps beside her brother. She was pouting.
Carl drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. His chest got tight as he reviewed what he had planned. The distinct chance that it would land him in jail held him in check as he watched Lynn flirt with Jamey. She was only fifteen, he reminded himself. Jailbait. He wished he could see inside her head, see what made her tick. Could be the whole thing was just an ego trip for her. Maybe she liked using her body to attract guys. Or, he mused, it could be she really wanted a good fuck, but was afraid.
Either way, she was tormenting Jamey beyond belief. Carl wondered if he should leave the little bitch to someone more her own age. There was always Sandra.
Then Lynn playfully pushed Jamey aside and walked away from him, left him standing there like a fool. Her hips swaying, her feet scuffing the sidewalk, Lynn made her walk an invitation to rape. Carl's guts began to bubble and steam. Cookie gave her brother's pants leg a tug and said something to him. Jamey nodded and slumped down next to her. He looked like he was extremely upset.
Carl grunted. The decision was made. His groin tightened as he reached for the ignition. Pulling away from the curb, he followed Lynn, slowly caught up with her as she sauntered along the sidewalk. She was basking in the glances all the men threw her.
He pulled up at the corner just as she got there. Then he leaned across the wide front seat of the old Caddy convertible. "Hey, Lynn."
She stopped and showily turned toward him. "Hi, Carl."
"Want to go for a ride?"
She leaned against the street lamp and toyed with a lock of her hair. "You know Daddy doesn't want us seeing each other." He heard the hint of a drawl in her voice. Ever since she had seen "Gone With The Wind" she had been using all Scarlet O'Hara's most aggravating mannerisms.
"You never let that stop you before," he pointed out.
"Well, maybe just a little one," she purred, starting toward the car as he opened the door. "But don't you go trying any funny stuff, Carl Smith."
Carl grunted and stepped on the gas, made her flop back on the seat as he gunned away from the light. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her carefully adjust her pose for the maximum effect. She thrust her breasts out, sucked her trim tummy in, curled one sleek leg under herself.
"Why don't you sit closer to me?" he asked, patting the seat.
There was the usual flirtatious, teasing interval before she agreed and slid under his arm. Then she carefully gripped his hand to keep him from slipping it down over her tits. She squirmed against his side, and then, cast a coy glance at him, let one of her slender hands rest on his hard thigh.
"Where are we going?" she asked as he sped through town.
"Where would you like to go?" "Oh, anywhere."
"We could go park."
"Well, maybe for just a little bit," she agreed with the proper amount of hesitancy. "But I have to be home before too late."
"How late is `too late'?"
"Oh, suppertime or so," she answered, keeping it vague as always. If she ran true to form, "too late" would be right when he was ready to rip the clothes off her in frustration.
But this time he would be calling the tune. The more she flirted with him, teased him with her wiggling and touching, gave him tantalizing intimations of the lushness of her tits, the sleekness of her body, the more he was sure he was doing the right thing.
"Where are we going?" she asked as he turned off on a side road.
"I'm looking for a nice private place to park," he answered. He knew exactly where he was going. He had grown up in the area. Now it was decaying farms and scrubby woods. He swung the heavy car onto a narrow track that twisted through the thick brush and trees.
"This is awful wild," Lynn noted fearfully.
The Caddy bumped from one pot hole to
another, then lurched over a half-buried root. He swung around a curve and jammed on the brakes.
A cloud of dust swirled past as he set the emergency brake.
In front of them was a sagging wooden shack. The windows gaped blindly, the door hung lopsidedly by one hinge. The wood siding was gray with age. All trace of paint had long since weathered away. Here and there a plank was warped or split. The front stoop consisted of two uneven concrete blocks. The thick weeds in the front yard were burned a pale brown. They were waving listlessly in the warm breeze.
"Gosh!" Lynn gasped. Carl wondered if he was going to have to drag her out of the car. "Can we go inside?"
"I don't know why not," he answered, relieved at her curiosity and confidence that she could handle him. "Come on."
"Doesn't look like anyone's lived here for years," she observed, skipping through the weeds ahead of him. She teetered on one of the concrete blocks and poked her head in through the door.
"There's only one room," she noted, disappointed.
"Any furniture or anything?" he asked innocently.
"A bed," she answered, then turned and waggled her finger at him. "Now don't you go getting any ideas, just because I'm going into a place with a bed in it."
"Wouldn't think of it," he answered with a wicked grin. She tossed her head and giggled. He heard her footsteps on the wood floor. When he looked in, she was stretched sensuously on the mattress he had hauled there to add to the frame and springs abandoned years before.
For a moment he stood over her, looking down, feeling his cock react to her slender youthful beauty, the thrust of her tits, the sleek satin smoothness of her tanned thighs. Her thick brown hair that fanned out around her face. There was a sparkle in her dark eyes.
Carefully, Carl eased himself down beside her. Deliberately, he reached out to stroke one of her still hidden tits, tits that he had vowed would not remain hidden much longer. Her hand, as he had anticipated, caught his. He let the motion carry until he was leaning across her. Then he slowly lowered his head toward hers.
The touch of her lips against his was, as always, electrifying. He felt her mouth moving sensuously, and delicately explored her lips with his tongue. With her usual touching shyness she admitted his probing tongue. She tasted of spearmint. He lowered his chest slowly to hers, then shifted his hand so he was gripping her wrists. She began writhing under him in a way calculated to drive him nuts.
He captured her other wrist and dragged her arms above her head. Keeping the kiss going, driving his tongue into her mouth, clicking his teeth against hers as she sucked erotically, he trapped her wrists in one hand, and used the other to slip the already-prepared loop of rope around them. He held her until the noose was tight, and bound her wrists to the center pipe of the ancient bedstead.
Then, at last, he broke the kiss and sat up. With deliberate insolence, he stroked his hands down her upraised arms, toward her shoulders, toward the breasts she so carefully defended against all comers.
She tried to pull her hands down to fend him off, and he saw the fear flash in her eyes. "Carl? What are you doing?" She tried to twist to look up and see what he had done, but he put one hand on the base of her throat and pinned her down.
Her breast was warmer and firmer and more exciting then he had dreamed it would be. As he fondled it through her halter top, he watched her eyes, saw the fear diluted by lust. She shook her head in useless denial of her nature. "What are you doing?" she asked again.
He fondled first one breast and then the other. He was fully aware that her legs were still free, that she could kick the shit out of him if she wanted to. But, she didn't really want to. "Feeling your tits," he answered.
"What did you do to my hands?"
"I tied them to the bed," he answered calmly. "Nooo," she moaned as he captured one nipple and twisted it gently.
"You've been teasing me for weeks. Leading me on and then stopping me abruptly. You're a cock-tease."
"I've got to get home, Carl," she said, her voice thick with lust.
"Not yet," he answered. "Later, if you still want to."
"What are you going to do?"
"I've wanted to see these tits for a long time," he answered. He kept her pinned down with one hand while the other found the bow knot behind her neck.
"Stop it, Carl!" she insisted, and began struggling. "Let me go!"
Ignoring her protests, he pulled the thin straps from behind her. Then he tortured himself by keeping the clinging material over her breasts. Her belly wriggled and squirmed as she struggled against the ropes. Slowly, teasing himself, he drew the halter lower and lower. He revealed the line where her deep tan ended. The sight of the soft lift of her boobs, pale ivory beside the tan, made his pulse hammer and his cock throb.
She stopped struggling, afraid to move for fear it would finish the exposure he had begun. He saw her glance down at herself to see how much he had revealed. "If you stop here," she hissed, "I won't tell anyone what you've done."
Carl laughed. "By the time I'm through with you, you aren't going to tell anyone anything."
He thought for a moment she would think he was planning to kill her. She didn't. "What do you mean?" she demanded.
"I mean," he said, running a finger from one exposed slope to the other - her nipples were still hidden -"that you'll like it so much you won't want to tell anyone."
"I will so," she snapped. "It's wicked and vile and sinful!"
"You've been begging for this," he said, easing the halter down farther, wondering where her nipples were. There seemed to be no end to the expanse of pale white flesh. It was faintly marbled with blue veins. "You can tell yourself you're helpless, that you can't help yourself, that it isn't your fault."
"That's not true," she retorted. Her answer lacked conviction. Carl slipped the material lower, revealed a curving pink sliver of a protuberant nipple. Slowly, he unveiled her firm, youthful, yet full, mounds. The pale white jugs were topped with aroused pink nipples. Her breasts quivered as she tugged against the noose holding her wrists. The pipe frame of the bed clanked as she fought it futilely.
"Noooo," she whispered as he slipped his hands over her heaving boobs. Her nipples were like pencil erasers - hard and rubbery. They scraped his palms as he mangled her soft jugs. Now the lust exceeded the fear on her face. As she twisted against the ropes the muscles in her slender arms stood out.
Carl's cock was a glowing, swollen ingot of horniness. It strained against his tight jeans as he fondled the half-naked fifteen-year-old. The line of her torso was spoiled by the halter. It was off her breasts, but still tied behind her back. He dug his hands under her and fumbled with the cord. Then he stripped the halter off and tossed it aside. Her white teeth digging into her lower lip, she watched it go. Her face filmed with sweat as she struggled against the ropes.
His hands went to her tits again. He pinched her buds, pinched them hard. Then he twisted them, rolled them between thumb and forefinger, and watched her heave and writhe with arousal. Her supple tan stomach shuddered. Her tongue, that lovely, erotic tongue, flicked out, licked her dry lips.
"I'm going to have you begging for it," Carl told her, still tormenting her perky tits. "You'll beg for it, and then I'll give it to you."
Lynn squirmed uncertainly on the bed. She was obviously aware of her naked tits, of his hands on them, and of the fact that her face was twisted with horniness. "I've got to go home, Carl," she moaned.
"Later," Carl promised. "Shit, it's hot today, isn't it?" Standing up, he stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. When she saw his tanned muscular chest she got a hot glow in her eyes. The feel of the hot summer breeze on his bare flesh built his lust.
"Let's see what else you've got hidden," he growled, reaching for the button at the waist of her hacked-off jeans.
"NO!" she screeched, kicking out. The bed squealed and rattled.
Carl pinned her legs down and straddled them, sat on her shins. He was conscious of the aroused hard bar of his cock. It was pressed up by his jeans and underpants. He knew that the tip was a fraction of an inch from exposure above the top of his jeans. He popped the button of Lynn's cut-offs, and ran the zipper down toward her pussy. The jeans spread open, revealed lacy white panties. The faint dark shadowing of her bush was visible through the lace.
"Carl," Lynn wailed as he dragged the jeans down her slender, tanned thighs. "Stop it!"
He yanked the pants to her knees. His teeth were clenched, and his eyes were fastened on the dark shadow of her muff as he hooked his fingers into her panties, and slowly, slowly dragged them down. He bared the wings of her pelvis, the tan trim curve of her belly, then, at last, the pale line that separated the permitted from the forbidden.
A few springy wisps of dark brown, wiry pubic hair sprang free of the panties. Fighting the drag of the elastic over her ass, he pulled the panties lower and lower. Her thick, dark bush fluffed up eagerly. A few of the fine ends stirred in the summer breeze that puffed through the empty windows and broken door.
Finally, he dragged the panties down to her jeans, bared her twat completely. For a moment he sat there, staring hungrily at her thick nest. His cock was dying to plunge into her thicket, to plunder her tight channel.
Lynn had frozen stiff. She was rigid with terror; and shame, and lust. She was bared to him and air was touching her belly, her snatch, her flanks, her breasts. Carl ran his hands up her satin smooth thighs toward the dark triangle of her pussy. He saw her belly muscles squirm as he stroked her intimately.
The moan he triggered by running his finger along the line of thigh joining body was thick with horniness. She twitched against his weight on her legs as he fingered her pale, untanned flesh. She wasn't trying to escape. She was trying to spread her legs in invitation!
"Oh, God," she moaned, her eyes closing as he fondled the fringes of her twat. Her nipples were harder and more distended than before. Her head rolled between her up stretched arms.
Slipping slowly off her, Carl dragged her panties and jeans the rest of the way down her sleek legs Then, before she could catch on to what he was doing, he grabbed one ankle and slipped the waiting loop of rope around it. He tightened the knots he had prepared, bound her leg to the corner of the bed. A second later he had her totally helpless, naked, spread on the bed. She was an upside-down "Y" of lust.
She twisted and fought against the ropes, tried somehow to get one thigh over her twat. Her writhing sent his horniness soaring. Her total helplessness made his gut ache. He feasted on her jutting tits, her slender waist, and gaping twat. He could see the pink ruffle of her inner cunt lips. They were distended with arousal.
"Please, don't," Lynn moaned as he stood staring down at her. "Please, don't. Stop."
He knelt on the bed between her gaping legs. He combed his fingers into her snatch, fingered her soft, hot labes. He saw shudders rack her gut, saw the muscles in her thighs flex and jerk. Parting the hairy cunt lips, he exposed the searing heart. Her inner ripples were glistening with juices. He explored them with his eyes. The pink button of her clit was hiding under its monk-like hood. Below that, just beneath the dainty dimple of her pisser, was the virgin-veiled mouth of her cunt.
He flicked her clit. She bucked and groaned hornily. Slowly, his eyes on her face, he slid a finger into the hot, slick, steaming heart of her cunt. She was gnawing on her lower lip, and beads of sweat were trickling off her forehead.
Dipping his head, he flicked his tongue at the berry of her clitoris. It was like touching an electric wire to her. She bucked madly. Tease him, would she? She was going to find out what teasing was all about.
His mouth savoring the clean taste of her virgin slit, he whipped her clit with his tongue. He felt her hips writhe and heave as he ran his tongue over the nerve bud. The bed bounced and squealed madly as heat raged through her slender body. He slid his finger in and out of her cunt as he tongued her clit-berry. Soon, she was raving with hunger for him.
"Stopitstopitstopit," she wailed. "Please." He stopped.
"Please, do me," she moaned. "Do what?" he asked.
"Put - nooo," she moaned when she realized what she was saying.
Slowly, tantalizingly, he pumped his finger in her flooded tunnel. He pressed his thumb on the starter button of her clit.
"Oooohhh," she groaned. "You want it, don't you?"
"Oh, God, yes," she whispered as his finger pistoned in the dainty opening through her cherry. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.
"I want you to do me."
"Use the word," he insisted cruelly.
"No!" She lifted her head and looked at him, then let it flop when a spasm of lust flared through her.
"You know the word," he growled. "Use it." He pushed firmly on her clit, ground it against the hard bone behind it.
She gave an animal grunt and bucked against the ropes. "Please."
"Please what?" His voice cracked like a whip.
"Please, fuck me," she moaned, her final barriers crumbling in the blow-torch heat of her horniness. "What? Louder, I can't hear you," Carl snarled. "Fuck me," she repeated.
"Louder!"
"FUCK ME!" Her whole body arched up off the bed.
"Beg for it!" he grated harshly, mangling her clit.
"Please fuck me. Please fuck me. Oh God, please fuck me, please fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she moaned and writhed wantonly on the bed.
Carl leaned back. He could feel his cock dripping hot, sticky pre-cum. He stood up on the bed, and, towering over her, unfastened his jeans. "Watch," he hissed.
He slowly exposed his thrusting, monster dork. He knew it was the first one she had ever seen. When she saw his erect dick there was a flash of fear in her eyes ... and a flicker of lust on her face. She licked her lower lip.
"It's so big," she said fearfully.
"You're going to get every inch of it," he told her as he stripped.
"Noooo," she moaned.
He had an urge to cork her mouth with it, then decided not to - that could wait. Right now he wanted to drill into her virgin shaft and unload the gallons of jism that were pooled in his groin. She looked tender and vulnerable, younger than fifteen. She also looked unbelievably desirable roped to the bed that way.
"Too bad there isn't a mirror over the bed. Then you could watch it go in," Carl noted, dropping to his knees between her spread legs. He wadded up his jeans and jammed them under her ass, lifted her pussy to a better angle. Her legs were drawn tight now. Her back was bowed backwards. Her twat was presented to him like it was on a platter.
Leaning forward on one hand, holding himself up off her, he bent his cock down and aimed it into her aroused gash. He nuzzled the aching head of his prick between her labes, squirmed it against the thin barrier of her cherry. The first touch of her sizzling cunt almost set his dork off. Fighting premature cumming, he leaned into her, slowly drove his dick through her hymen.
"OWW! IT HURTS," Lynn screamed.
"Shut up," he snarled. "It won't hurt for long." "You're killing me," she yelled.
Ignoring her shrieks of protest, he drove his cock into her. He felt her cherry rip as he slowly rammed into her clutching, hot tunnel. Jesus! It was tighter, wetter, and better than he had hoped. Sandra's cunt was limp and sloppy in comparison. Carl sank his dork into Lynn's snatch with a single, steady drive. As he filled her virgin channel with cock, her moans of pain slowly changed-to throaty groans of pleasure.
With his dick full depth in her, her soft twat walls clutching his hot bar, he lowered himself onto her slender body. He felt her soft naked tits mashing against his hard chest. His hairy thighs lay between her sleek ones. His groin was jammed hard against hers.
"Oh, my God," Lynn cried lustily as she squirmed feebly beneath him. She was a squashed bug spiked with lust.
Carl drew his dick out, paused, then slid it back in. The tight stroking of her cunt walls made his balls clench. He felt her pussy twitch from the stimulation. He deliberately hunched to grind his pubic arch against hers, to scrunch her clit between the hammer and anvil of the two bones.
"Awwwww," Lynn wailed.
He began to fuck her more boldly, began pistoning faster. She was tugging at the ropes again. Only now she was doing it to gain more freedom to move. For a second he considered releasing her hands, then discarded the idea. Better she remain helpless until he was done with her.
His guts were on the verge of firing. He tried to hold off, tried to bring her to a cumming before he hosed her with jism. She was keening under him like a half-squashed cat. Her hips were bucking and squirming. He stroked his dick into her as far as it would go, and felt the head push against the end of her hole.
The friction against the firing pin on the underside of his dick tip was sending wave after wave of fire through his nervous system. The cum in his gut was tossing and heaving like storm waves in the North Atlantic. Finally, he knew there was no way he was going to be able to stem the tide. "OH MY GOD!" Lynn wailed, and he felt her twat walls clench around his dork like a milking machine.
His guts emptied into her guts. He felt like the load was propelled by live steam. Every cum-muscle in his groin knotted with ecstasy, gave him the feeling he was tearing in two. Spurt after spurt of blazing cum hammered the end of her tunnel, flooded her tight young hole with its first load ever. His ass knotted with a final squeezing, spasming out his orgasm until he was aching and exhausted.
For a long time he stayed on top of her, savoring the feel of his dick shrinking in her snug hole, drawing back from her sodden depths. She was wheezing with exhaustion beneath him. Every exhalation was accompanied by a gentle whimper that might have been from pain, from sorrow, or from pleasure. Finally he got off of her.
"What happened?" she asked in bewilderment as he found a cigarette and lit it.
Carl blew out a stream of smoke and watched it swirl and twist in the sunlight from the window. "You came. Cummed? You got fucked." He stared at her with a dispassion he didn't truly feel. Shit! She was gorgeous. Made his drained gut ache just to look at her, stretched on the bed like that.
"It was awful," she moaned. "You loved it."
"I hated it," she snapped, her eyes flashing.
Carl laughed. He could see beneath that veneer. "You were begging for it! And you got it," he answered.
"Let me go," she ordered, straining against the ropes.
"Not yet."
"Let me go now and I won't tell anyone what you did to me."
"I'm not done yet," he answered, watching her lips, her sweet, virgin, teenage lips. He studied her tongue, the white shine of her teeth. His cock began to swell slowly. A fresh pool of cum began to form in his gut.
"I'm warning you."
"Shut up!" he rapped. He took a final drag on the cigarette and dropped it on the floor. He almost ground it out with his heel. Then he remembered he was barefoot. He wanted to grind the butt out on one of her tits. Instead, he picked it up and pinched the ash off and scattered the embers over the dusty gray floor.
"What are you going to do?" Lynn asked suspiciously as he knelt between her legs.
"I'm going to make you cum again, and then you're going to make me cum again."
Her pussy was still raised by the wadded jeans under her butt. He noticed with a trace of disgust that her cunt had oozed cum and stained his pants. Then the fragrance of her aroused twat captured his attention and he lowered his mouth to the hairy meal. Parting her cunt lips, he stroked his tongue the length of her sodden gash. "WaaaHHH!" Lynn reacted like she had been kicked.
Carl tasted his jizz and her cum-a carnal sauce b'arnaise. Lowering his lips to her pussy, he probed deep into her cunt, tasted her virgin blood. She began moaning when he drilled her sopping channel with his tongue. He could see the muscles on the insides of her thighs jumping and twitching. Her gut knotted as he probed deep into her shaft.
After scooping out thick waves of mixed juices, and wondering why the act was arousing rather than disgusting, he shifted his attention. Moving upwards, he licked apart the squirmy petals of her inner lips and rasped his tongue over the rubbery nubbin of her clit. Slipping his hands under her tight, firm tail, he lifted her pussy on the tray of her pelvis and sucked her clit.
Lynn thrashed madly against the ropes as he pulled her clit between his lips. Trapping the wriggly button, he tongued in the way Sandra loved to have him do hers.
Lynn yelled and bucked. The old bed shuddered and squealed in protest. The birds outside the glassless window were silenced by her lusty wails and moans. He ground his chin into the sloppy lower end of her snatch while he gummed her clitoris to a frazzle.
She was grunting like a pig, snorting and humping crazily as he brought her off. He felt her strain up, ram her snatch at him. She began shivering as she held the arch. She was cumming, again. He kept tonguing her clit until she collapsed with a weary moan.
Then, his hard-on swaying like a bludgeon, he lifted his head from the hair pie and moved up, straddled her strained, heaving chest. When he cupped his hands behind her head to lift it, her eyes flickered open. She saw him, towering above her, and shuddered. Then she saw his dork resting between her tits, and her dark eyes gleamed. She licked her sweet, teasing, tormenting lips.
He eased up her, slid his dick along her chest, painted pre-cum on her tanned flesh to the hollow of her throat. She kept her eyes on his cock until it went out of sight under her chin.
Then she looked up at him. "No," she moaned. His cock nuzzled her lips. She pinched them closed. Her nostrils flared as she sucked in the full essence of the cum drying on his pecker. Taking a grip on her hair, tight and hard enough to make her wince, he used his other hand to pinch her nose shut. For a few moments she held her breath, then her lips parted to suck in a gasp of air. He jammed his cock against her teeth. The sight of his dick head ramming her mouth made his nuts boil. "Open up," he warned, giving her hair a twist. "Ow!" "Open up!"
She gave in and he slid his cock into her mouth. "Suck it," he ordered, watching the play of disgust on her face.
Her lips closed around his throbbing, aching hard-on and he felt hot juice seep into her mouth. He knew she was tasting his pre-cum. Her tongue stroked the underside of his dick like a hot velvet blanket, triggered another thick, searing drizzle of seepings.
She sucked. Without him having to twist her hair, she sucked his cock. Holding her head, he thrust, drove his dork to the back of her mouth until she gagged. Her lips encircled his dick like she was as practiced as Sandra at cock-sucking. Lynn's tongue rubbed his meat to flame while her teeth very gently and delicately nicked his skin.
Holding her head in both hands, he let his hips swing in an easy fucking motion and watched his dork spear into her mouth. Her nose flared as she inhaled. He felt her spit drying coldly on his dick when he drew out so she had just the head of it.
He was going to cum. He was going to hose her tongue with cream, pour his thick jism down her throat. The thought made his balls steam. Because she was loving it. There was wanton lust on her features that she couldn't deny. He had her right where he wanted her. And right where she wanted to be. She loved being helpless, being forced to take cock wherever he wanted to deliver it. The way her tongue was working over the underside of his prick was proof of her desire to bring him off. Without him telling her, she instinctively knew what to do.
He thrust harder, faster, deeper. She took it.
Tears trickled down her cheeks as his cock head rammed the back of her throat. She gagged on the monster, rubbery knob. Before dragging up hard against his groin, his balls swatted her chin on each stroke.
He was going to cum. Jesus, it was like he had a geyser bottled up in his gut. He felt the pool of jizz getting hotter and larger and more impatient. The sucking and stroking of her lips and tongue got faster, harder, more urgent. Finally, there was no stopping the flood.
Semen erupted from his dick like blazing bullets, spattered the back of her throat, streamed over her tongue in a hot, sticky flood. Her throat bobbed as she gulped desperately, took the mixture of spit and semen. She choked for a moment. A pearly wave escaped, drooled down her chin and her slender throat. She sucked hard on his spurting dork. The spurts faded. And still she sucked, drew the last tasty drizzles from his pecker as it softened.
When his cock was small enough, and limp enough, she stuffed it all into her mouth and pressed the last seepings from his exhausted channel. Then she let her head fall back between her arms. Her lips puffy, she caught her breath. Her chest heaved under his butt as he eased down on her. He rested his balls between her jugs and draped his cock over them.
Finally he got off her and released her wrists and ankles. Dragging her hands down, she rubbed the welts left by the ropes.
"You didn't have to tie them so tight," she griped.
"You didn't know then what you know now," Carl answered around a smoldering cigarette as he dragged his pants on.
"I hate you."
"But you loved what we did," he retorted cheerfully.
Her silence was all the answer he needed.
She sat as far away from him as she could as they drove back to town. Both of them knew, without talking about it, that this was just the beginning.
Chapter Three
"Don't lie to me," Peter Stevens warned furiously. "Jake Randolph saw you in his car." Hands on her hips, Lynn faced her father defiantly.
"I've told you I don't want you seeing him," Peter went on angrily. "He's too old for you. What is he, eighteen? Nineteen?"
"Eighteen." She wanted to lie, to knock a year off Carl's age, but didn't.
She watched her father run his fingers through his thinning hair. He paced away from her nervously. "I told you what I would do if you saw him again. I told you. Didn't I tell you?" "Yes, Daddy," she answered softly. "Why did you do it?"
What could she answer? She didn't even know herself. She shrugged.
"Dammit, Lynn, I can't understand this stupid crush you have on that ... that dropout," Peter raved. "Why can't you take up with someone more your own age? Like Jamey Dwayne, for example. He's a good, decent kid."
"Jamey Dwayne is a drip," Lynn retorted.
"He's a nice boy, and what's more he's your age. All Carl is interested in is ... is . . . "
"Is sex," Lynn finished when Peter sputtered to a halt. "Or so you keep telling me," she added defensively, knowing that the truth would blow her father's mind.
"Well, dammit, he is," Peter raved furiously. "Guys his age are too old for you. They know things you shouldn't know yet. You're not old enough to be able to handle them."
That, Lynn mused, was true. But Carl sure knew how to handle her. Just the memory of that wild afternoon made her cunt tingle.
Her father turned on her. His face was set in a way that made her stomach tighten. "I warned you what I was going to do if you saw him again. Didn't I warn you?"
"Yes, Daddy," she agreed, "you warned me." Why had her pussy suddenly begun to steam? Was it looking forward to what was coming?
"I told you I'd give you one hell of a bare-bottom spanking," he went on. "I told you that. It was your last warning."
"Yes, Daddy," she sighed, wishing he would get on with it.
"Go to your room and get ready," he ordered. Suddenly, something made her resist. "Make me," she said insolently.
He looked as if he had been struck by lightning. "WHAT?"
"I'm a big girl now. There's no law that says you have the right to spank me."
"I'm your father, and you will obey me," he yelled.
"You want me to obey you, you're going to have to make me," she retorted.
"If I have to, I'll throw you down and hog-tie you," he snarled. He was losing control of himself. "If you think you're going to give me a bare-ass spanking, you'd better get some rope," she told him. The tingling in her gut was increasing.
She thought for a minute he was going to explode. His face turned a bright red. Then his eyes swept around the room. When nothing caught his eye, his hands went to the belt of his trousers. With ominous slowness, he unbuckled it and dragged it out of the loops.
"Just remember you asked for this," he warned, advancing on her.
Lynn cast a glance over her shoulder as she backed away. It was a mistake. She saw him coming out of the corner of her eye. He slammed into her before she could twist away. She fought like a wildcat, but he had her helpless in a moment. A few quick turns, and he had the belt around her wrists, had her hands bound behind her back.
The next thing she knew, she was flung over her father's shoulder, and he was carrying her out of the living room, toward her bedroom. Slamming the door open, he threw her onto the bed, then flipped her on her face.
Putting his knee across her calves to pin her legs down, he grabbed the back of her hip huggers and yanked, hauled her ass upwards, forced her tail into the air.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, suddenly scared. She was also acutely aware of the sizzling heat in her cunt.
"Spank you." "Please, Daddy."
"Shut up," he said sharply, slapping her hard on the backs of her thighs. "With a strap," he added, fumbling with the wide belt of her hip huggers. Reaching under her, he undid the buckle. The feel of his hands against her belly made her pussy steam. A shudder of lust shook her, then a knot of horror when she realized that there wasn't a chance in the world her father would plug her cunt. Ever since Carl had bound and ravaged her, she had been simmering like a volcano. Now, the binding of her wrists and the touch of her father's hands was sending her soaring.
She felt him dragging the belt out of her pants, and shivered. The pressure of his knee across her calves was brutal. The only thing she could do was straighten out and lie flat. Somehow, she knew it would do no good.
With the belt free, his hands returned to her belly, and fumbled with the button and fly of the low-slung pants. She felt the zipper go down to her hot, moist pussy, felt the pants loosen over her rear. Then he dragged them down, revealed her sheer bikini panties, let air touch her thighs as he jammed the hip huggers down around her knees.
The touch of his hands on the back of her panties made her whimper. He may have thought it was from fear. She knew the real reason. The flame in her guts flared hotter. The thought of having her naked ass exposed to him, in the position she was in, made her insides boil with desire. She felt her pussy seeping hungrily as her panties were hauled over her tight, pale, raised butt.
"I'm not going to say this hurts me more than it does you," he announced. "Because it's not true." She felt his hand stroke the sleek smooth globe of her rear. "God! You're as beautiful as your mother was," he whispered.
Lynn wondered if he used to spank her, too. Somehow, she had the feeling he had put Mom in this undignified position on more than one occasion.
Then the belt struck and the blazing pain that seared her ass blotted out everything but the flaming hominess in her gut. The belt, folded double, cracked like a bullwhip on her tight rear. She lurched and almost straightened out. Then her father reached over, put a hand on the back of her neck and pinned her down. Her calves were being ground by his knee, her face was being forced into the mattress by his hand. She struggled against the skillfully knotted belt that held her wrists.
The belt he had stripped out of her pants slammed against her stretched flesh again. She felt her twat gush erotically as her mind was boggled by the unbelievable pain.
He lashed her, again and again and again, with an almost berserk fury. It felt like the flesh was being stripped off her ass with hot irons. It was a few seconds before she realized the beating had ended, that his hand had left her neck, his knee her calves. She was afraid to move. Her rear felt as if it had been scoured with a blowtorch. For a few seconds she couldn't imagine where the blubbering noise was coming from. Then she realized she was bawling like a baby. She hiccupped in a vain attempt to stop. She twisted her hands against the belt tying her wrists, and wondered where her father was. Had he gone off and left her like this?
There was a rustle of cloth. The bed jolted, shifted. She looked back just in time to see her father kneeling behind her. His legs were bare.
Then something jammed against her flooding pussy. She moved her knees apart as far as the clothes tangled around her legs would allow. She felt her father's cock drill deep in her streaming tunnel. A wave of pleasure roared through her as he took her. The impact of his body against her inflamed tail made her buck in welcome.
"Oh, my God," she moaned, as his strong hands gripped her waist and his cock pistoned in her hungry pussy. She couldn't see him, but didn't need to, to sense the mad lust that was driving him on. His dick drilled her again, and again and again, stroked deep into her so-recently-virgin twat.
Her lust soared upward, carried by waves of pain and pleasure. Her father's dick screwed deep into her. The fact that he had just whipped the hell out of her heightened her excitement. That, added to the total helplessness of her position - wrists bound, ass high, face down on the bed - quickly brought her to a sexual peak.
He rammed into her and she flew apart into a million glittering fragments. She felt his dork leaping and jumping in her twat, felt his searing spurts flood her as he came along with her. With an animal wail of pleasure she abandoned herself to the incredible bliss of the incestuous rape.
The cock in her belly spurted and spurted. Cum ran down her thighs. Then the eruptions died, and suddenly were gone. She felt jizz spatter one burning butt cheek as he drew out with a groan of horror. He left her empty and exhausted. But still, somehow, in spite of her cumming, horny.
"Oh, dear God!" Peter gasped, staggering away from her. "What have I done?" He turned, and slammed into the wall, then bounced out the door. Desperately, Lynn heaved herself up. She fell off the bed, and scrambled to her feet. Lurching drunkenly, she kicked out of her hobbling pants and ran after her father. Her wrists were still strapped behind her back.
"Daddy?" she called. She turned the corner just in time to see his bedroom door swing shut. She slammed into the door, rammed it back, jammed it open with her shoulder.
"DADDY!" she screamed when she saw the gun. "NO!"
She reached him just as the muzzle touched his temple. She drove her head against his gun hand, jarred the weapon off target. It fired. The crash left her deafened, left her ears ringing. Her father fell onto the bed. For a horrifying second she was sure the gun hadn't missed. Then she realized he was shuddering, sobbing. He was on his back on the bed, covering his face with his hands.
And there, right in front of her face, was his cock. Pale, withered, glistening with their mingled juices. It lay limply on his hairy thigh. She knelt at his feet.
Without even thinking about what she was doing, Lynn sucked his drained dork into her mouth. Still helplessly bound, she tongued his slick prick, felt the warmth of the meat that had so recently penetrated her cunt, tasted her cum and his on his flesh.
She felt the limp sausage begin to respond. It expanded, extended, pulsed as if it was returning to life. She sucked on it lovingly, stroked it with her life-giving tongue. She rested her cheek on her father's hairy thigh.
She didn't really have to do it, of course. But she wanted to do something to end his heart-breaking sobs. And what better thing could she do for the man who loved her enough to tie her and beat her and rape her?
Lynn sucked her father's cock. As it stiffened and expanded, she sucked harder. She shifted around as it stood up more and more from his hairy groin. Because her hands were still tied, she had to keep the rapidly burgeoning dork in her mouth, and use her lips to keep control of it.
One of his hands came into her field of view. It was blurred and out of focus because it was so close to her eyes. He gripped and steadied his dick as she pumped her mouth slowly up and down. Her insides curdled with lust as she slurped on his dick.
His other hand touched her head, stroked her sweat-stringy hair. She glanced up along his lean body, saw that he was watching her suck him. His expression was mixed - fear and lust and disgust. They all mingled together as he watched his daughter's mouth engulf his jutting cock.
Her twat streaming with excitement, Lynn returned her concentration to her meal. Her breasts mashed into his legs as she leaned against him. Her tongue swirled around his pecker, traced the groove between the rubbery head and the hard shaft. Holding the cap, her lips in the groove, she wedged her tongue into the slit, pried it as far open as she could.
Then she slipped her mouth down on his pecker. Pressing her tongue against the underside, she slid his cock toward the back of her mouth, let it run along the hot velvet surface of her tongue as the pressure of her lips wrinkled the soft skin over the iron-hard core.
The head reached the back of her tongue and she almost gagged. Then she remembered, and tried to swallow his prick, and the gag urge faded. Raising up, she drove her mouth down, rammed his cock into her throat, past her glottis, down her gullet like a mammoth bite of steak.
Pulling up, she inhaled desperately, then swallowed the head again. Her tits were hard as steel ball bearings inside the midriff-baring blouse that was her only remaining garment. She felt his cum and her juices trickling down the insides of her thighs as she sucked him. The ache in her ass had faded. Now it was no worse than a bad sunburn. She realized vaguely that her fingers were tingling from the lack of circulation. Her shoulders were in agony from the way her arms were twisted behind her back. The leather belt was cutting into her wrists.
She swallowed his cock, over and over and over. Soon her throat was sore and bruised from the battering. But she kept on. On each downstroke her nose nuzzled into his kinky pubic bush. It was soggy and stringy from the rape. On the upstroke she could focus on the hand that was steadying his dick for her.
She felt his legs squirming and shifting, felt his hips jerking and humping as she sucked his prick. He had to be near cumming. Stroking his cock hard
with her tongue, she moved faster. Her guts knotted in anticipation of the searing flood. Her pussy was a steaming, seething, streaming swamp as she drew on his dork. The pain in her shoulders, her wrists, and her ass increased her soaring lust. "Unh," he grunted. "Unnhh."
She knew he was close. She sucked, pushed her face down, swallowed his cock head, pushed more, drove the mammoth rubbery cork down her throat. She worked her lips, tried to force another fraction of an inch of his tower down her gullet. Her nose burrowed into his wiry muff. Little sparkles danced in front of her eyes. Her body was screaming for oxygen! Her twat was spasming, flooding with a flaming empty cumming.
She felt it. She felt the first gooey shot of semen bullet up the channel of his dick. It was propelled by every ounce of force his groin muscles could muster. The first spurt hit her glottis like a wad of acid. Her throat convulsed and she had to back off as the second spurt spattered her throat. Pulling up enough to unblock her windpipe, she sucked in a cum-scented gust of air just as more creamy spoutings erupted against the roof of her mouth, the back of her tongue, filled her with thick essence.
Like a baby at its mother's tit, she suckled on the erupting cock. She sucked the cum out of it as fast as his balls could pump it. She tasted every thick, slimy, gooey jetting, swallowed each creamy drop after savoring it like fine wine. After he was through spouting his load into her mouth she didn't let his dick go. She engulfed more and more of his dork as it became less and less. Soon she was mouthing some of his thick brown bush along with all of his pecker. She drew on his dick, extracted the last exquisite drizzles of juice from his channel. Then she drew on his dick because she liked the feel of the limp meat in her mouth. Her cunt spasmed and spasmed and spasmed with the aftershocks of its cumming. His cock still in her mouth, she rested her head on his thigh. His hand was stroking her hair.
"Oh, baby," he moaned. "What have I done to you?"
Like an inchworm, she squirmed up on the bed with him and snuggled against him. Her cum-sticky lips nibbled his throat. Then she kissed him lovingly. "Spanked me," she answered.
"I did more than that," he sighed. "Jesus! I should be shot."
"No, Daddy! NO!" she protested, his near-suicide still vivid in her mind. "I need you, Daddy! I need you."
"You don't need a father that rapes you," he protested.
"I need a father that loves me,"-she answered. There was a silence while she gathered her courage. "I-I'm not a virgin," she admitted.
"You sure aren't," he said sourly.
"I mean, I wasn't a virgin before this," she confessed.
"I suspected as much." He was quiet for a moment. "Carl?"
"Yes," she whispered. "The other day. He ... he took me out to a place in the country, a shack. He tied me to a bed. And he raped me. Then, after he had eaten ... eaten my pussy, he made me suck his cock." The vile words rolling from her lips made her groin knot with hunger. "Bastard! I'll kill him!"
"NO! No, I asked for it," she added softly. "WHAT?"
"I ... I'd been teasing him for weeks. I think I wanted him to do it." She twisted her hands against the belt still binding her wrists.
"I'll have him arrested."
"If you do, I'll deny it ever happened," Lynn warned.
"He's a son-of-a-bitch."
Lynn squirmed on her father. Her breasts scraped his hairy chest. She clasped him with her legs, then wriggled around until she felt his dick nuzzling her pussy. He was half hard again. She managed somehow to get part of his pecker into her hole. "He didn't do anything you didn't just do," she noted. "Though he did have the courtesy to eat me out, which you didn't."
She felt her father's cock burrow deeper into her as it expanded once more.
"I'm worse then he is," Peter growled.
"Oh shut up and fuck me," Lynn snapped, wriggling down on his dick. "Don't untie my hands. Just roll me over and fuck me."
Amazingly, he obeyed. Carefully keeping his dick socketed in her sodden twat, he heaved her over so she was lying on her strapped hands. Then, he pushed up off her and stared at her. He began to unfasten her blouse.
Pushing it back off her shoulders, he bared her tits. His hands fondled her soft breasts, twisted and tormented her nipples while his cock thrust farther and farther into her.
"Just like your mother," he growled. "A wanton. A worthless slut."
"Yes," she hissed, loving the insults.
"Just like your mother," he went on, twisting her tits until they hurt. "The more helpless she was, the more violent and vile the act, the more she liked it."
"Tell me, Daddy, tell me," Lynn moaned. "I even pissed on her."
Lynn felt a hot flash of lust at the idea.
"I pissed on her, I buggered her, I made her suck my cock, I let other men have her, I whipped her. And she always came back for more, for worse," he rasped, digging his fingers into Lynn's titties. His eyes glazed as he remembered.
"Oh Daddy, fuck me," Lynn moaned.
"Bitch!" he rapped, slamming his cock into her sore twat. "Filthy, wanton bitch!"
"Yes," Lynn groaned as her lust soared from the insults and the rape.
"Cock-sucking whore," he snarled at his helpless, bound daughter.
"Awww," Lynn whined as his cock reamed her twat and his awful words raped her soul.
"Slut, slut, SLUT!" His prick tore into her with every snapped word. She bent her legs up and out until she felt the head of his cock pushing angrily against the end of her tunnel.
She began to cum. It was like an aurora. It pulsed and flared with every vile word and every powerful stroke into her battered cunt. Her insides drummed as his dick pistoned in her like a mad machine. She was reduced to a quivering mass of carnal jelly by the pounding. She didn't know, in the end, whether he came again or not. He finally left her a sodden heap on the bed. She lay with her legs spread wide so the inflamed, cum-sopping heart of her pussy showed.
He came back, rolled her over, and unfastened her wrists. For a moment she didn't move. The pain in her shoulders cut like hot knives when she tried to haul her arms around. Wearily, she pushed herself up, shrugged her blouse back onto her shoulders. Then, curling defensively into a ball, she turned to face him. She winced when her blistered tail scraped the bedspread. Then, ignoring the pain, she sat up.
"If anything of this ever gets out," he warned, "they'd throw me in jail, and you in an asylum." Lynn gulped, and nodded. "Yes, Daddy."
He had a drink in his hand. The ice cubes were clinking noisily from his shaking. He was wearing his bathrobe. "And, don't expect it to happen again."
She frowned. "No?"
"No. I'm your father. Not your lover." "Yes, Daddy," she whispered.
"Don't you forget it."
She wiggled on her burned tail. "No, Daddy." "Are you likely to get pregnant?" he asked abruptly.
"No." "Why not?"
"I ... I'm on the pill," she said defiantly. "I don't have to have your permission for it."
"Just as well. Because a week ago I wouldn't have given it."
She hugged her knees and thought about all the things he had said he had done with Mom before she died.
"It's too much to expect that now you've done it you'll stop," he went on. "Maybe someday you'll find yourself doing something so sickening, so disgusting, that it'll cure you. But I doubt it. Your mother never did."
She wanted to ask more about her dead parent, but didn't.
"Neither did I," he admitted sourly. "I thought I'd stop short of incest, but I didn't."
He was silent for awhile. "Anyway," he said at last, "if one word trickles back to me about what you're doing, I'll have you locked up."
"Why? "
"Dammit, I can't give you permission to ... to become the town whore," he snapped. "But I know, too, that nothing I can do will stop you. Nothing short of sending you to a convent, that is. All I'm saying is, for God's sake, be discreet."
"I will, Daddy," she sighed.
"Now get the hell out of here and take a bath," he ordered. "You're filthy."
"Yes, Daddy," she agreed, scrambling to her feet. She paused in the doorway, and, making no attempt to conceal her sodden snatch, turned to face him. "Daddy?"
"What?" he asked, his eyes hard. "I love you."
His gaze slipped and fell, and the hardness melted from his expression. "I love you, too," he said huskily. "Close the door behind you."
"Put the gun away, Daddy?" she asked.
Picking it up from where it had fallen, he opened the cylinder and dumped the bullets out. Handing the ammunition to her, he put the gun back in the bedside table.
"Thanks, baby," he grunted, eyeing the bullet hole in the head of the bed.
Chapter Four
Lust was knotting Lynn's stomach as she sauntered down the street. The battle raging inside her was increasing the steaming dripping of her twat. The fact that she wasn't wearing a thing under the loose shift that covered her from shoulders to knees intensified her horniness.
With every step she was aware of the silky stroking of thigh against thigh. Air stirred intimately around her snatch. Her tits were burning from the gentle rubbing of the loose dress.
She was trying to look in all directions at once without seeming to be looking at anything. She had the feeling a million eyes were on her, that everyone knew she was nude under the dress. She had the feeling, too, that everyone knew what she was on the prowl for.
She was looking for Carl. She knew what she was looking for him for, but didn't dare admit it to herself. She couldn't acknowledge the burning hunger that was driving her.
She wasn't worried about her father any longer. Not that she had particularly worried about his rules before. He hadn't said a word about Carl since the whipping and fuck. Her father seemed resigned to her basic lusts. He hadn't laid a hand on her since that time. But the hot hunger had shown more than once when he had caught sight of her in a revealing outfit or situation. It wouldn't take much to get his cock into her again, she knew.
But it wasn't him that she wanted, and it wasn't just cock, either. The memory of the ropes biting into her wrists made her twat twinge with hunger. She thought of fighting the unyielding bonds and wondered if she was likely to slide down into a steaming puddle of lust right there on the sidewalk.
The sight of Carl's big Caddy convertible by the curb almost sent her off in the opposite direction, screaming with panic. It wasn't that she was afraid of him - she was terrified of herself and what she was becoming.
She looked around for Carl, but didn't see him anywhere. Impulsively, she opened the car door and climbed in. She had the feeling that he wouldn't be long. He would come out from wherever he was and find her waiting for him. He would know what she wanted without her having to ask.
But when he did show up, he wasn't alone. Lynn felt her spirits drop. Sandra was with him. Sandra always made Lynn feel skinny as a stick and immature as a ten-year-old.
Only her raging hominess made her stand her ground as she looked up at Carl. "Hi!"
"Hi, yourself," Carl answered.
Lynn saw Sandra studying her, sensed Sandra's quick assessment of her - what she was wearing, what she wanted. In a split second, the older girl had figured out that Lynn was nude under the loose dress, and horny under her nudity.
Carl opened the passenger side door and gestured with his thumb. "Okay, out," he ordered. "No, wait a minute," Sandra said. Her voice gave Lynn goose bumps.
"What do you mean, wait a minute?" Carl asked, looking at Sandra. "We don't want her along."
Sandra stood with her hip cocked and toyed with a lock of her jet-black hair. She was wearing a clinging halter that showed her tits plainly. As Lynn watched, the eager knots stiffened, protruded wantonly against the thin knit.
"Might be interesting," Sandra pointed out. "I'd like to see just what the little slut can do. What she can take."
Lynn felt a core of ice form inside her. She also felt her hominess increase. Something held her pasted to the seat when she knew she should flee.
Carl thought for a few moments, then smiled in a way that made Lynn's blood curdle. "Yeah, it might be nice for the three of us to take a drive in the country," he agreed. "Move over," he ordered Lynn.
Obediently, Lynn slid along the seat, and Sandra got in beside her. Carl walked around and got behind the wheel. Lynn felt a chill when she realized she was pinned between the two of them. A scene from an old gangster movie popped into her head. She was "going for a ride" between them. The thought of how that ride was going to end made her want to burst into tears.
But the only thing that was really weeping was her cunt. She could feel thick juice on the insides of her thighs. She knew it was moistening the dress under her. She folded her arms across her breasts and huddled defensively, tried not to touch either Carl or Sandra as they roared out of town.
Nobody said a word as Carl headed for the abandoned shack. Lynn could feel Sandra's eyes stripping her naked as they sat side by side. And she could feel Carl glancing down the neckline of her shift from time to time. There was a massive lump in his lap.
Carl brought them to a halt in the little clearing in front of the shack. For a minute they all sat there, staring at the sagging shanty. The tension thickened until it could have been cut by a knife. Lynn felt herself sliding into a daze as terror and anticipation and hunger all fought in her gut, formed a sour taste in her mouth.
"Come on," Carl ordered. "Let's go, you two." Lynn realized that Carl was totally in control. Sandra was now, somehow, as much in his thrall as she was. The knowledge made her lust steam hotter.
As Lynn got out, Carl reached in the back seat and grabbed a coil of thick rope. Just the sight of it made Lynn's cunt drizzle. She thought of the harsh hemp rasping her flesh and shivered. Her nipples were so swollen with lust they hurt.
The coil of rope swinging easily in his hand, Carl led the way into the weathered building. Lynn followed, and Sandra brought up the rear. Lynn could feel the pecking order. She was at the bottom.
Lynn jerked to a halt in the doorway. Sandra, right on her heels, rammed into her, pushing her into the room. Carl fondled the rope, passed the coils from one hand to the other as he studied the two girls.
"Undress her, Sandra," he ordered.
Lynn turned fearfully toward Sandra and felt her guts coil tight. A nagging, sour, tickling itch was swelling in her crotch. Sandra smiled at her. It was not a comforting smile. Reaching out, Sandra took hold of Lynn's dress, and pulled it over her head. Lynn felt the air stroke her nude flesh and hugged herself nervously. She saw her dress tossed casually in the corner, and felt Sandra's and Carl's eyes raping her naked body. She felt skinny and vulnerable as she tried to protect her tits.
Carl came up to her and took one of her wrists. She barely resisted as he twisted her arm behind her back, then took her other wrist. The motion dragged her shoulders back, bared her breasts, made them thrust out. She tossed her head, flicked her shining brown pony tail. She tried to look brave as Sandra stood there gloating over her helplessness.
Carl knotted Lynn's wrists together with a quick twist of the harsh rope. Then, yanking her arms back, he wound coils of the scratchy half inch hemp up her forearms, laced it back and forth from one to the other. He took several tight turns around her biceps. She flexed her muscles so the coils would be loose enough to let some blood reach her fingers.
Carl finished off by winding several turns of the line around her torso so her arms were cinched hard against her sides and back. Glancing down at the coils, Lynn shuddered. They cut into her breasts, pinched her soft mounds, made her tits jut out.
Sandra grinned cruelly at Lynn's helplessness and agony and arousal. Lynn spread her feet a few inches to keep from swaying. Sandra and Carl walked around her, gloated over her naked bondage. The fires in Lynn's gut got hotter and hotter as she stood there, shuddering and squirming against the unyielding ropes.
"I think she's going to cum," Sandra exclaimed. "I think she's going to cum just from being stripped and tied."
Lynn was cumming. She knew she was cumming. She twisted, writhed thigh against thigh, tried to stimulate her pussy as the flame and itch swelled in her belly. She bent and wriggled, felt her cunt gush as pleasure roared through her, burned her from head to toe. For a long, ecstatic moment she was engulfed in the flames of her orgasm and was oblivious of the bindings cutting into her.
The sight of Lynn's total bondage made Carl's cock throb and ache with desire. Tying her up had been a real turn-on. The contrast of her satin skin and the cool, scratchy hemp in his hands had sent his lust boiling. Having Sandra watch made his cock harder and more anxious.
The idea of wrapping the left-over rope around Lynn's torso had come at the last moment. The sight of her tits being squashed made his mouth water. He had deliberately dragged the harsh rope over her flesh, burned her with it.
And when she had squirmed and writhed in the grip of an orgasm, right there, naked, in the middle of the room with him watching! Shit! It made his dick want to burst. He didn't give a rat's ass about what Sandra thought or felt-he had to plunge his cock into Lynn's lovely, luscious twat. Carl began tearing his clothes off. He kicked his worn loafers across the room, jerked his pants down, and kicked out of them.
He shoved, sent Lynn stumbling over to the bed. Another push and she was sprawled on her back across it. Her head banged against the hard wall. She lay there and made no attempt to conceal her cunt with her thighs or legs. The coils of rope were cutting deep into her tender breasts and upper arms.
For a moment, Carl towered over her. His cock drooled a thick, shining drop of juice as he surveyed Lynn's helplessness.
Then he reached down and grabbed her legs. He spread them apart like she was a wishbone, exposed the red, gleaming heart of her twat. Her inner cunt lips were distended with hominess, and formed a cat's eye of lust in the dark heart of her snatch. Holding her knees wide, Carl bent down and aimed his dick at his target.
"Oooohhhh," Lynn moaned at the first electric touch of his dick.
Carl felt like he was touching a battery with his cock head. Keeping her thighs spread wide with his grasp on her ankles, he drove his dick into her sopping, hot, yielding cunny.
His dick slid into her searing depths like the piston of a well-oiled machine. She bent her knees as he leaned forward on her and spiked her full depth with his dork. He watched the entire length of his pecker vanish into her crotch.
"Waawww," Lynn groaned as his dick jammed her full. She writhed and tossed on the mattress as he paused with his dick socketed in her clinging, clutching hole. The puddle of jism in his gut felt as big as Lake Huron, as hot as the sun. His balls throbbed with lust as he savored the feel of her hot meat engulfing his tool.
"Fuck her," Sandra hissed eagerly, her eyes glittering. She was enjoying watching the penetration. "Fuck her!"
Carl knew he wouldn't last long, he was so horny. Hooking his arms around Lynn's legs to keep them folded, he braced his hands on the bed. He kept his weight off her so the only point of contact were his arms, where they pinned her legs, and his cock in her cunt.
He began to fuck her with long, hard strokes. He dragged his tool almost all the way out, leaving just the knob in her hot socket. Then he rammed back into her sucking depths. His groin hit hers with a loud squishing sound, and his balls swung and slapped her ass.
"Fuck her," Sandra urged, kneeling on the bed so she could see better.
"Oooohhhh," Lynn moaned.
Carl pistoned in Lynn's tight twat, in and out, in and out. Her enfolding tube burned the piston of his prick. For a moment he thought of ripping his dick out and hosing Lynn's precious body with cream. The moment passed as his balls drew up hard and fired like a double-barreled shotgun. Spout after glittering spout of thick goo seared his cock, scalded Lynn's twat. She bucked under him, and a pink flush blossomed on her bound torso. She whined and gibbered in the grip of her cumming.
Carl's nuts wrung themselves dry until he felt a delectable ache of sexual accomplishment. He held on in her spasming depths until the last drizzles of jism were milked from his dick. Then, with a grunt of effort, he heaved up and away from her. Releasing her legs, he fell back from her. His dick was covered with their juices.
Moaning, Lynn let her legs down, dropped her heels to the floor with a ringing thump. Her breasts heaved against the ropes across them as she tried to catch her breath. Aftershocks of her cumming rippled across her taut tummy as she lay there, her ass on the edge of the bed, her back arced from the weight of her feet on the floor.
Her dark bush was a wet mass of ringlets. It was drenched with juice. Stringy strands of Carl's cum coiled across the dark hair. She didn't make any attempt to close her legs or conceal the aroused pink of her inner folds. They protruded, distended and battered, from her hairy outer labes.
Carl sank down wearily on the bed to catch his breath. Sweat rivered down his powerful body as he gazed at Lynn's helplessly bound form. Then he looked at Sandra, and saw the hot arousal in her eyes.
"She's all yours," Carl said suddenly, and felt a flare of pleasure at the fear that flashed across Lynn's face.
Sandra stood up. Every line of her lush body oozed sexiness. Carl remembered what she had said the night at the drive-in about having made love to other girls. He knew suddenly what she had planned. She stripped her clinging top up and off, revealed the creamy thrust of her fantastic boobs. Her dark tits were rigid with excitement. Without a pause, she unfastened her shorts, shoved them down, bared her thick, dark bush. She was naked.
She reached out and grabbed Lynn's ankles. A slow pull, and Lynn slid slowly off the bed, then sat on the hard, dusty floor. All through Sandra's strip, Lynn had watched. Fear, disgust, and horniness had played over her face.
As if she knew what was coming, Lynn licked her lips. The sight of her delicate teasing tongue made Carl's lust soar again. The knowledge of what that tongue was going to be doing in a moment brought renewed life to his exhausted dick.
Sandra was gloating over Lynn. Standing in front of the helpless younger girl, Sandra fondled her own heavy jugs, pinched and rolled her jutting tits. "Gonna have a rich meal, little girl," Sandra purred.
"No," Lynn whimpered. It wasn't a very convincing denial - her cheeks were flushed with lust.
Sandra stroked her hands down her lush torso toward her thick black snatch. She combed her fingers through the dense curls, fondled her soft outer labes, then humped her cunt at Lynn.
Lynn began squirming against the ropes ... but never took her eyes off Sandra's pussy. Lynn gulped, and her throat worked visibly. "Untie me, please?" she whispered.
"No way," Carl said. "Please?" Lynn begged.
"Not a chance," he assured her. "You know you don't really want to be untied."
Silence. Then, "I know it," Lynn whimpered, her face a mask of shame and horniness. "I know it." Tears trickled down her rosy cheeks as she made the confession.
Sandra was still fondling her twat. She parted her pussy lips, revealed the heart of her cunt. The inner tissues were slick and shiny with juices. Her long fingers fondled the folds, toyed with her clit, rimmed the vaginal opening.
"Hair pie," Sandra purred. "A box lunch for the little lady."
"No," Lynn whispered. "Not that."
"Anything we want," Carl snapped. "That's the way it is, and that's the way you like it."
Sandra put an end to the conversation by moving in on Lynn, straddling the girl as she slouched on the cold, gray, grubby planks. Sandra gripped the sides of Lynn's head, and, looking down, guided her thickly bushed twat to Lynn's face. Twisting her victim's head back, Sandra lowered her cunt to the girl's mouth, muffled her with thick soft flesh and kinky pubic hair.
"Eat!" Sandra urged. "Stick out your tongue and eat!"
With a strangled moan, Lynn slipped her tongue into the hot hairy nest. The feel of that molten, wormy tongue slipping between her labes sent a wave of flame through Sandra, wrung a hot groan from her. The sight of Lynn's dainty, usually aloof face buried in her crotch made Sandra's blood boil. The tongue stroked up her slit, parted her folds, penetrated her cunt, then stroked over her clit.
Lynn wasn't as helpless as she was pretending. She could have wreaked havoc on Sandra's vulnerable folds with her teeth. But roaring lust and raging curiosity and inherited madness made her drive her tongue through the thick hairy mass of Sandra's twat. The taste of Sandra's juices flowing over her tongue made Lynn's gut knot and her lust rise.
"Deeper!" Sandra ordered, adding force to the command by twisting handfuls of hair. Lynn obeyed, found the funnel of Sandra's cunt, probed deep into the hot hole. Marveling at the slick, wet feel of the rippled .walls, Lynn drove her tongue as far in as it would reach, then wiggled it in the hot sheath. She was rewarded by a hot moan and a thick gush of juices. Hungrily, Lynn scooped out Sandra's flow, savored the delectable flavor.
And all the while, there was a burning knot of arousal in Lynn's belly. It had been there since before she had found Carl's car. She was wrapped in rope like a mummy. The coils were cutting into her flesh, burning her skin. And she loved it. She loved the helplessness, the humiliation, the wantonness. Everything.
She scooped wave after wave of Sandra's juices out with her tongue. Carl wasn't able to see any of the details. All he could see was Lynn's face buried in Sandra's muff. That alone was enough to bring renewed life to his so-recently drained dick. As he lay back against the cabin wall and watched, his fingers toyed lazily with his expanding dork.
Sandra's belly thrust forward as she ground her twat on Lynn's mouth. The grip Sandra had on Lynn's hair was brutal. It was dragging strands of shining dark brown hair from the rubber band holding Lynn's pony tail. Sandra's jutting tits and quivering jugs increased Carl's horniness.
"My clit," Sandra growled. "Find my clit. You do know what a clit is, don't you, bitch?" Evidently Lynn did - but couldn't say so because of that twat in her mouth. Her head shifted. Sandra lurched when hot lips touched her cunt berry.
"Awwww shit!" she gasped as flames erupted in her gut. "Suck it."
Lynn sucked. Sandra felt her clit being pulled out to its full extension by the suction. Lynn caught the nubbin between her lips, and Sandra thought she was going to be ripped in half by pleasure. Then Lynn's tongue rasped over the nerve bud, and Sandra felt her insides being welded together by the searing heat.
Lynn's lust was as hot and vile as ever. The act of eating another girl's pussy was not something she would do by choice. But, bound as she was, she had no choice - so she might as well try to enjoy it. And she was enjoying it. She suckled on Sandra's clit as if it was a tit. She tongued the hard button and felt -shudders rack her tormentor. Her nose pushed against Sandra's hard pubic arch.
Sandra caught sight of Carl with his cock in his fist and laughed. "Like this?" she asked hotly.
"Love it!" he said. "She's got my clit," Sandra explained. "She's got the little button between her lips and she's sucking on it like it was her mother's teat. She's getting my goo smeared all over that prissy little face of hers."
Lynn heard the words, and her disgust and her lust roared higher. She wormed her jaw in Sandra's snatch, mashed the other girl's pulpy folds with lips and teeth and tongue.
"I'm cumming," Sandra hissed. "Oh, sweet Jesus! Am I ever cumming."
Lynn worked harder, lapped and sucked along Sandra's hairy twat. Wave after wave of juices streamed over her face and into her mouth. Her own cunt went into a clutching, spasmodic of cumming. She lapped and sucked and lapped and sucked until at last Sandra released her and backed away.
Lynn let her head fall back onto the bed, and inhaled air thickly scented with female sex juices. Her nose, her cheeks, and her chin were all smeared with Sandra's cunt fluid. Lynn's slender legs stirred, drew apart. Her knees bent in blind invitation for someone to plug her ravenous cunt as she caught her breath. Her ribs ached from the strain of battling the ropes. Her hands were numb and cold, they had been bound for so long. Dull knives were being driven into her shoulder joints, were trying to pry them apart.
"Willing slut, isn't she?" Sandra observed as she slumped down beside Carl.
"Yep," Carl agreed.
"What are you going to do to her next?"
Carl thought awhile. His cock was hard, but not impatient. "I don't know."
"She any good at sucking cock?" "Like a vacuum cleaner." "There anything she won't do?"
Carl grinned. "Is there any way she can refuse, hog-tied the way she is?"
"I guess not."
Lynn felt weird, like a piece of furniture. They were discussing her as if she wasn't there. She was their toy to be used and abused as they wished. Suddenly, she became aware of a desperate need to pee. "I've got to go to the john," she said at last.
"Awww, does-ums our little one need to go potty?" Sandra asked.
"Please, I need to go bad," Lynn whimpered, crossing her legs.
"Maybe we should have her do it right where she's sitting," Sandra suggested.
Carl frowned. "Naw, that'd stink up the place." "You're right. Guess she'd better go outside," Sandra agreed. "Think she can make it by herself? Or should we help her?"
Carl grinned. "If we help her, then we can watch."
Sandra laughed. "You really are a pervert, you know that?"
"Please, no compliments," Carl retorted.
They hauled Lynn to her feet and held her when she swayed uncertainly for a moment. Then, flanking her, they guided her to the door of the shack and steadied her as she stepped out. The sun on her naked flesh made her intensely aware of her exposure and vulnerability. Her tits were aching from the binding and pinching. Her pussy was wet with hers and Carl's cum. She wiggled her fingers in an attempt to restore the circulation.
The need to piss was a hot iron skewer in her gut. They led her away from the cabin. The weeds whipped her naked legs. Finally, they stopped and turned to face her. She looked at them and saw no sympathy in their eyes at all.
"Please turn your backs?" she begged. "Not a chance," Carl said firmly.
"Come on, let's see your fountain," Sandra urged.
The tightness in her bladder was too excruciating to endure for long. Then she felt her twat sizzle as she thought about being watched. What was it Daddy had said? Something about pissing on Mom. The idea brought a wave of cuntal contractions, a knotting that squeezed out a burning dribble of piss.
Unable to hold it any longer, Lynn spread her legs. Squatting slightly, she battled to release her water.
With a gush, the dam broke. Her piss arched in the hot sun, spattered the weeds, made them dance and bob. Her twat went into strange orgasmic spasms that made the gush of urine wax and wane. Being watched made her feel like her whole body was being flogged with hot whips.
She wrung her bladder dry with a final convulsive squeeze of her internal muscles. Shaking, she straightened up. She could feel piss drying coldly on her pussy.
"I can't wipe," she complained.
"Why, so she can't," Carl noted. "Think we should help the poor thing, Sandra?"
Sandra looked at him questioningly, knowing he had something in mind. "No toilet paper," she pointed out.
Carl grinned, and Lynn's blood ran cold. "You once told me you'd do anything, remember?" Sandra grinned tensely. "I remember."
"So, how do you think you could wipe the piss off that sweet little pussy of hers?" Carl asked. "You really are a perverted son-of-a-bitch, aren't you," Sandra commented.
"Not going to make a liar out of yourself, are you?" Carl asked.
"You want me to wipe her with my mouth, don't you?"
"Damn straight." "And if I don't?" "There's more rope in the cabin."
Sandra shivered and her tits stiffened. Lynn realized with a jolt that Sandra was intensely aroused by the threat.
"That won't be necessary ... today," Sandra answered at last. She shoved Lynn away from the sodden patch of weeds so she wouldn't have to kneel in piss.
Lynn stood with her legs spread as Sandra knelt in the weeds and dust. The sun burned Lynn's distended tits as she looked down. Sandra tipped her head back and proceeded to lap up the glittering golden drops of piss that were clinging to Lynn's cunt hair. Then, parting the labes, Sandra darted her tongue into Lynn's slit. Lynn almost collapsed from the blast of pleasure that flamed through her. Shaking and shuddering, she moved her feet further apart, and humped her cunt toward Sandra's eagerly-working mouth.
Carl's cock hung from his groin like a heavy weight. He watched the lush brunette wipe Lynn's pussy clean. His dick was more than ready for another go - at one girl or another. But, wanting to wait a little longer, he relaxed and enjoyed Sandra licking Lynn's crotch.
Lynn began swaying as the tongue burrowed into her hot gash, stroked her dripping folds again and again and again. Sandra took long swipes that stroked cunt-hole, then pisser, and ended by striking fire on Lynn's clit. Sandra's fingers dragged Lynn's hairy labes wide apart until her tissues were stretched and stinging.
Carl, his cock a mammoth tower of horniness waiting to be buried somewhere, was still watching. Lynn began to cum again. The shuddering orgasm made the wilderness around her haze out. She swayed drunkenly in the sun. If it hadn't been for Sandra's hand on her cunt she would have fallen. As it was, she nearly did anyway. Then Carl grabbed her and dragged her away from Sandra.
"Fuck me," Lynn begged as he mauled her naked body. "Please, please, fuck me. Fuck me now, pleasepleaseplease."
Carl chuckled, and pushed her to her knees in the prickly, harsh weeds. With a hand on the back of her neck, he forced her face to the ground. Soon she had her cheek in the weeds, her ass high in the sun.
"Like a dog, I'll fuck you," he told her. "I'll fuck you like the bitch you are. Here, outdoors, trussed up like a pig, your face in the dirt."
"Fuck me," she moaned, her lust roaring higher at the grinding humiliation. "Please, fuck me." She remembered her father had plunged his cock into her from behind and was racked by a gut-knotting shudder.
Carl got to his knees behind her and aimed his cock at her cunt. Just above it was the dusky pucker of her bung. For a fleeting moment he was tempted to ram his dick into the smaller target. Then he decided to save it for another time, and drove his throbbing hard-on into her sodden twat with a single powerful thrust. He jammed the whole way into her in one stroke. It wrenched a moan out of her and ground her face in the dirt.
Bending over, he reached under her and found the jutting points of her tits. Pinching the protruding nubbins hard, he fucked his cock into her with quick animal drives. His balls swung, slapped her pussy with every stroke. The pool of cum in his gut was scalding him, knotting his groin, filling his firing chambers. He thought he could feel sperm seeping from his balls to his prostate.
"Owww," Lynn wailed as her tits were tortured and her cunt was pounded.
"Slut," Cad grunted, slamming into her. "Whore." He pounded his cock into her again, and felt flames erupt in his guts. "Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!" Quick hard drives punctuated every sharp curse.
His cock exploded like a flare in her belly. He felt jizz blister his dick as it roared down the barrel, then spattered Lynn's clutching, velvet depths.
Lynn felt his dork convulsing in her like a cannon barrel. She felt his jism hammer the end of her hole, singe her delicate membranes. Her cumming flared up in a fireball that wiped away every sensation but the cock hosing her guts. With a soft moan, she pushed back against his thrusting hips. She wanted to keep his jetting pin deep in her spasming hole until his convulsions faded to twitches and then died away completely.
With a soft moan of total ecstasy she slid forward. His pecker slipped free and spattered her butt with wetness. She toppled to her side in the weeds and dust and lay there, a helpless girl wound in coil after coil of rope, while cum drizzled slowly from her abused, sodden twat.
She became aware of a pattering rush of water in the weeds a few feet away and looked up. Carl, grasping his dick, was silhouetted against the sun. A glittering stream arced from the tip of his pecker as he pissed. Lynn had a mad urge to crawl under the golden shower. His stream cut off before she could gather enough strength to stir.
"Feel better?" Sandra asked him.
"Much," he answered. "Come on, we better get the ropes off her before she gets gangrene in her hands. Help me get her up and into the cabin."
Lynn was hauled to her feet, and then was half led, half carried into the shanty and eased down on the rickety bed. Carl unknotted and unwound the ropes. He struggled for a moment with her wrists, and then suddenly, she was free.
"Oh my God," she moaned as circulation returned to her fingers with a rush. They tingled and burned painfully. Her shoulders were in agony. She dragged her arms from behind her back and rubbed her rope burned wrists.
Nobody said anything while Carl and Sandra dressed. Lynn was too sore and exhausted to do anything but slump wearily on the bed. Then Sandra helped her up and slipped the shift on over her head. Getting her arms into the sleeves made Lynn gasp with pain. Her shoulders wouldn't let her forget what she had just endured.
Carl coiled the rope carefully and put it in the car. For a moment, they all sat there in the Caddy, Lynn in the center, and stared at the shanty.
Lynn knew she would be back. The thought brought hot hunger to a twat that should have been sated.
Chapter Five
Lynn sat in the bright, sunny kitchen, playing idly with the soggy cornflakes in the bottom of her bowl. Her head in her hand, she tried to arrange the three flakes in an artistic pattern in the pool of milk. But every time she moved one it shifted the others.
"Shit," she snorted, dropping her spoon. Her mind flashed back to the hideous, humiliating, unbelievably arousing afternoon with Sandra and Carl. Every gross instant of it was indelibly engraved on her brain cells.
What horrified her was a realization that had come to her as she woke up that morning: she hadn't yet had a normal fuck. The only times she had taken cock she had been tied up. First it had been Carl, then her father, then Carl again.
She wondered if she would enjoy a normal screwing. Was she doomed to go through life searching for tighter bonds, crueler ropes, more humiliating penetrations? The thought made her stomach a bit queasy.
She thought of Cookie Dwayne. Good, wholesome, sweet Cookie would never fall to such depths. Probably she was still a virgin. Something about her innocent blonde good looks made it impossible to visualize her spiked on a cock. When she did get deflowered, it would undoubtedly be on her wedding night. Her handsome, tender, thoughtful husband would gently ease up a white negligee before slowly slipping his penis - not cock, penis - into her perfumed vagina.
"Shit," Lynn snorted again. She thought maybe she should envy Cookie, but somehow didn't.
But Lynn did wonder what it would be like to have a simple, straightforward, missionary-position fuck. The idea made her cunt warm slowly. A gentle horny itch was forming in her tummy.
Nervously, Lynn got up and began clearing the table. The house echoed emptily around her. Her father was at work, leaving her, as usual, to her own devices until late in the afternoon.
He hadn't commented on the rope burns on her wrists. They had been quite noticeable for two or three days following the episode with Carl and Sandra. Peter couldn't have missed seeing them: they were raw like a bad sunburn and the skin was chafed and flaking. There had been other burns, but less prominent ones, on her breasts and upper arms. Of course, she hadn't let him see her naked tits.
Thinking about her father got her hot. Her curiosity had been stirred by his talk about Mom. Lynn hardly remembered her mother - she had died of cancer when Lynn was five. The photographs showed a strikingly beautiful woman, dark-haired like Lynn, full-breasted with a gracefully slender body.
What was it Daddy had said? Something about Mom being willing to do anything. Apparently, he had regularly tied her up, beaten her, ravished her like a rutting animal.
Lynn was afraid she had inherited her mother's slut-genes.
Restlessly, Lynn prowled the empty house. The hominess in her gut would give her no peace. She was fighting the urge to search for Carl. Just the thought of his rope digging into her was enough to make her cunt drool.
"No, dammit," Lynn growled at herself, still pacing. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of her seeking him out. He was going to have to come to her the next time.
Then he could tie her up and rape the shit out of her, she told herself sourly. And he would, and she would love it.
But she had to find out if that was all there was. She had to know if she was doomed to a life of slavery, or if she could have a man on an equal basis, or if she could dominate a man.
The thought of screwing, just screwing, on clean sheets, was unutterably boring. But, she had to admit, arousing, too.
But who? Jamey Dwayne? Ridiculous.
Or was it? He was male; he had a cock. What's more, she could twist him around her little finger. It would be like taking candy from a baby.
Not, she had to admit, that he would be more than happy to give it to her. And, what better time than now, and what better place then in her own, frilly, teenage-girl bedroom? She went to the telephone.
It was just her luck that Cookie answered. "Who? Lynn?"
"Is Jamey there?" Lynn asked, resisting the urge to puke at the sound of Cookie's prissy, virgin tone.
"What do you want him for?" Cookie asked. "What are you, his watch dog?" Lynn asked angrily. "He can talk for himself. And if he doesn't want to come to the phone he can decide that for himself, too."
She tapped her toe nervously while there was a long muffled conversation. She was sure Cookie was trying to talk her twin out of coming to the phone.
"Hi," Jamey said at last.
"Hi," Lynn responded, her heart fluttering. She didn't quite know how to ask him to come over for a fuck. "Uh, you busy right now?"
"No," he answered cautiously. "What's up?" Lynn's mouth went dry. She licked her lips. "I ... uh ... thought you might like to come over and ... uh ... mess around."
"Oh?" There was interest in his tone, but also fear and restraint. He was remembering all the times she had teased him, led him on.
"No one's home but me," she said softly. "And I'm lonely."
"Oh."
"Nobody'll be home until late this afternoon," she added. She let her voice go husky and soft and intimate. "What do you say?"
The silence went on until she thought she was going to scream.
"I promise I won't be a bitch," she added. "Cross my heart."
"I'll believe it when I do the crossing of your heart," Jamey said.
"Why don't you come over and do it, then?" "You mean it?"
She nodded, then remembered he couldn't see her. "I mean it," she said in a tone that threatened to melt the telephone wires. Her insides were coiling with lust. "I promise! Cross my heart and hope to die."
"I'll be over in about fifteen minutes. And if you're lying to me, I'll beat the shit out of you." Lynn managed to avoid giggling at the threat. God, if he only knew what that would do to her.
"I'll be ready and waiting," she assured him, and hung up.
She dashed to her room, stripped to the buff, and quickly got dressed again - even bra and panties. Her blouse was sweetly sexy and the shorts hugged her bottom like a second skin. She dabbed on dots of perfume, ran a comb through her shining dark hair and applied a quick touch of lipstick. She finished just as the doorbell rang. With an eager skip, she hurried to let him in.
"Hi," he greeted her warily, leaning against the doorframe.
"Hi, come on in," she invited.
His eyes flickered over her, picked out her long, slender legs, the thrust of her tits, the way the shorts clung to her crotch. "You look nice," he noted politely.
"Thanks. Uh, come on into the living room."
He sat nervously on the sofa. She put some music on before sitting down close beside him. His arm went around her shoulders and she rested a hand on his thigh.
His first kiss was hesitant, shy, tentative. She let her lips soften and felt him respond, felt the tip of his tongue probe delicately. She let him in, welcomed him with her own tongue. The kiss grew harder and hotter until her heart was hammering and her whole body felt like it was melting. His hand touched her side, low down, then slipped up toward her breast. She tightened her grip on his thigh. She slid a soft hand up his strong chest as his fingers hesitantly cupped her tit through blouse and bra.
Her breathing got ragged as he put pressure on her boob. She felt the bra cup wrinkle as he fondled her soft mound. Her chest hurt more than it had when it had been wrapped in Carl's ropes.
When Jamey's fingers strayed to the buttons of her blouse it was a milestone. She had teased him along this far before, but always halted him before he could undress her. This time she held very still as he pried open button, after button, after button. She felt the blouse spread, and let him slide it back off her shoulders.
In a few moments she was bare to the waist, and his lips were closing on her aching tit, tenderly nursing on a jutting berry.
Lynn was relieved to find that the flames that roared through her from this gentle lovemaking were fully as hot as the ones she had felt when in bondage. She let her fingers measure the size of Jamey's cock, and couldn't believe it was as big as it felt. She began to loosen his belt as he fumbled with the fly of her shorts.
The cock she exposed was a mammoth monster of lust. With a delighted purr, she closed her fingers around it. She felt its heat, smeared it with goo while she lifted her butt so he could slide her shorts and panties down her lithe legs. Then she helped him out of his clothes.
"Come," she urged, taking his hands, leading him to her sunny, pink bedroom and its white-sheeted bed. He trotted along behind her eagerly, then lay down beside her on the cool sheets.
For a long time he just looked at her. She lay there gracefully, hiding nothing, but not revealing her innermost secrets, either. His eyes fondled her breasts, her soft tummy, the brown muff between her smooth thighs. She curled her fingers around his mammoth dick and squeezed it slowly and sensuously. She watched his glittering oozings as they welled from the smirking slit at the tip.
His cock was titanic. It was half again as long as Carl's impressive shaft. Its diameter was so great her fingers had a hard time encircling it. She moved her hand up and down on it, watched the skin slip over the rigid inner core.
His hand touched her breast, made her tit flame hot as it was brushed. His fingers measured the weight and softness of her boob. The lust flamed hotter in her gut. She sighed and let her eyes close while she savored the fire that was running through her whole body. His lips touched her tit and she whimpered. His hand slid down toward her pussy, and she spread her thighs, opened her innermost recesses to his exploration.
His fingers cupped her mound, then one slipped into her slit. Her hips humped, pressed his invading finger into her slick hole. His finger slid in. She sighed happily as it penetrated her.
"Oh, Jamey," she moaned, and squeezed his dork.
His lips smothered hers as he stroked his finger in and out of her snatch. As he explored her dripping slit, she wondered where he had learned so much. Then a blast of lust made thinking impossible.
"I need you," she moaned, pushing him on his back.
"What?"
"Let me," she whispered. "You're so big! Let me do it. Please?"
To her relief, he did, lay on his back and let her mount him. His hands came up, pressed her aching breasts as she straddled him and guided his monster dork to her burning slit. The mirror at the head of her bed caught her eye. She could see everything!
She lowered, and watched the mammoth knob push into her curling bush. She felt him press her hairy labes and reached down and pried them apart for his dick tip. Then his cock was nuzzling her cunt and she was shaking at the thought of taking that tower into her body. It might split her wide open.
"Ah!" she grunted as she took the head of his dick. Gurgling, she slowly spiked herself on his gross shaft. She watched ravenously as she leisurely speared herself. The sight of his gigantic dick vanishing into her hole, spreading her lips so wide she could see the shining inner tissues, sent her lust soaring.
And the feel, the sensation of having her so-recently-virgin cunt being stretched to the limit by his bulk was unbelievable. Every wrinkle and fold of her cunt tunnel had been ironed out. His fingers dug into her soft boobs as she slowly gored herself on his cock.
Then he was halfway, then three-quarters of the way. Finally, she felt the head of his cock meet the end of her tunnel. It was more than she could bear. Her muscles gave way and she fell the rest of the way in one sharp jolt that rocked her from her ass to the top of her head. She went rigid. The feel of his elephantine cock in her hole was stupendous.
"Oh my God," she whimpered.
Then she leaned forward and began to rise and fall on his giant tower. When she went up it felt like he was going to turn her inside out. When she went back down, no matter how she braced herself, the impact of his cock on the end of her hole wrenched a moan from her.
Reaching down, she fingered her clit as she rose and fell, rose and fell on his huge pecker. Rolling and twisting the squirmy little button sent hot flames raging through her, brought her closer and closer to cumming as she pistoned on Jamey's prick.
His grip on her tits became more impatient, harder, crueler. His hips were heaving and rolling, stirring his cock in her cunt as she pistoned up and down. His blonde hair was stringy with sweat as he rammed his dick up when she came down. Then he dropped away sharply and slammed up just as she was coming down. She thought she was going to black out.
"Gonna cum," he growled.
"Oh yes," she wheezed, fingering her clit madly as she fucked him. "Cum now, cum now, cum now, aaahhhh." Her voice trailed vaguely off in an orgasmic wheeze as the fireball of her cumming mushroomed up through her like an atomic blast.
In the mirror she saw his dork socketed in her cunt. The tiny sliver she could see spasmed. She saw that ivory, shining wet column convulse and heave and felt his eruption spray her guts. Then, as gout after gout filled her clenching, milking cunny, she saw a thick wave of overflow drench the tangled kinks of his strawberry blonde bush. She let her eyes close as the fire burned away her consciousness, left her with nothing but pure pleasure.
Lynn slowly tilted forward, levered his dick over with her cunt. She felt his still-massive hard-on slipping on a coating of cum. His arms went around her and she snuggled against him. Her breasts squirmed on his sweaty chest. Her tits were hard little raisins between them.
"Jeez, that was good," Jamey panted. His hands were stroking her nude back from shoulders to ass. Lynn squirmed. She loved the feel of her boobs squashing against his chest. "I promised you, didn't I?"
"You sure did!"
"Glad you came over?"
"Stupid question," he snorted. He wiggled, and she felt his still half-hard dork stir in her pussy. "Oooo, you are a big one," she moaned.
"So I've been told," he grunted, shifting so his dick stroked her cunny.
"Who told you?" she asked, curious.
"People," he answered vaguely. "Guys at school when we shower after gym class."
She was sure he was lying. So she tried a flank attack to get the information she wanted. "You weren't a virgin, were you?"
He was silent for a moment. "No," he admitted. Then he was silent again. "Neither were you," he said accusingly.
"Of course not!"
"Carl I'll bet," Jamey snorted.
"Who else?" She squirmed on top of him, shifted to stimulate his dick. She felt it respond, felt it burrow deeper into her. "How many girls have you had?" she asked.
"Enough to know what I'm doing," he answered vaguely.
Might mean more than one, she mused. But it might not. "Anyone I know?"
"Maybe. What is this, anyway, a courtroom?" "No, a fuck room," she purred, wriggling to get his cock to drill still deeper into her.
"You sure have changed," he noted, shifting and stirring his dick in her himself.
"Oh?"
"You used to be a tease. How come all of a sudden you're willing to fuck like a bunny?"
Lynn thought of her deflowering and a warm flush spread through her. "Let's just say I've seen the light."
"Do you just fuck?" "What do you mean?" "How about a little sucking?"
"Right now?" she asked. She was very content with his dick in her twat.
"No."
"Later," she hissed, sliding up and down him on a film of perspiration. She felt his pecker slide in and out of her cunt.
"Yeah," he grunted agreeably, helping her move by gripping her ass and pushing and pulling her. Lynn spread her legs wider, and managed to get her pubic arch to grind against his. Now, as she moved up and down him, her clit was pinched and rolled between the two bones. "Oooohhh, yesss," she purred as the embers in her belly were fanned into flames.
Jamey's fingers dug at her rear, pried her ass cheeks apart as he tugged and shoved at her. She felt him exploring her ass crack, and felt an itch developing in a most unexpected place. His strong fingers dug at the bottom of her ass seam and she whimpered.
His cock was almost full size again - which meant overgrown. She felt the head burrowing like a mole at the end of her hole, digging deeper and deeper into her as the shaft stretched her twat wider and wider. Hooking her arms under his and curling her fingers over his shoulders, she increased the speed of her fucking. Her clit became a fireball of pleasure as it was ground between the millstones of their pubic arches.
His finger touched her shitter and she moaned at the incredible pleasure. She wriggled her rear encouragingly as he probed her cum- and sweat-slimey bung. She couldn't understand why it felt so good. All she knew was that she wanted him to dig his finger into her asshole.
When he slowly began to work a digit into her asshole, she thought she was going to cum right then. For a moment he stopped. Her cunt went into spasms as muscle knots rippled through her. Her asshole burned like fire, itched like hell, and sent pleasure messages like she had never received before in her life. She fought to let him in, fought to relax her asshole.
"Awwww," she snarled as his finger slowly snuck into her crapper like a red hot worm. "Jesus!"
"Like that, huh?" he said lewdly, twisting and turning his finger in her bung.
"Awwww, shit, yes," she moaned. "Want to try two?"
"Ohhh, God, yeah," she agreed.
She felt a second finger touch her sphincter, then slowly pry its way into the rubbery ring. She battled to relax it more. She felt the muscle stretch slowly, and then felt the second invader slip into her asshole beside the first.
"Oh, my God," she wailed as Jamey socketed two fingers deep in her bung.
He stirred his dick in her, and she thought she was going to faint. He twisted his fingers in her rear, and the pain was exquisite.
"Too bad I'm so well hung," Jamey noted idly. "Why?" she moaned.
"I've always wanted to ram my dick into an asshole," he answered, wriggling his fingers in her shitty depths.
"My God," Lynn wailed as she thought of having a cock ream her out. Her asshole tried to pinch off his fingers, and got burned for its trouble.
With his grip in her asshole, he moved her on him. She realized that once again, even though she was on top, she was at the mercy of a man. It didn't matter. She skidded and slipped on his flesh. His cock squirmed in her tormented, stretched cunt as his fingers twisted and burned her rear. Her clit was on fire as she writhed on top of him.
With a heave that caught her by surprise, he tumbled them over, rolled her on her back, wound up on top of her. His cock and his fingers never left their hot nests in her bottom. Then he lifted up off her a little and began to fuck her in earnest, began dragging his dork out and slamming it back in. His fingers began digging at her tender anal wall, began pinching it as he put pressure on his cock.
Lynn gave up trying to control things and let her hands reach over her head and grip the edge of the mattress. Her mind was being reduced to tatters by the endless waves of pleasure - from her clit, her cunt, and her rear.
She imagined twists of rope cutting into her flesh, and felt the pleasure double and redouble. She crossed her wrists as if they were tied and writhed as if coils of rope were cutting into her tits and back. It was all there, all the unholy ecstasy she had felt before. Her first time with him faded in comparison. She was being inundated by her sensations.
Jamey rammed into her, hard, cruelly, until she thought she was going to be torn to bloody shreds by his cock and fingers.
He thrust as hard and as deep as he could, then used his grip in her rear to pinch his cock in her tight cunt. His jizz forced past the constriction like hot acid and burst from his cock like water from a firehose. He grunted hoarsely and doused her hole with sperm until she was flooded with cream.
Her cumming began to fade as his cock shriveled. Her asshole fought to drive out his fingers, and closed with a grateful twinge when he extracted them. Reaching blindly, she grabbed his wrist, and drew his fouled hand to her nose, smelled the earthy stench on his fingers.
"I'll go wash up," he mumbled, dragging himself off her. That, she thought, was something Carl would never do.
She rolled off the bed and showed him the way to the bathroom. His cock was impressive, even soft. It was shining and gooey with their gunk.
As he stood at the sink washing his hands, his cock was even with the basin. She imagined him pissing into the bowl. "Do guys like to have fingers put up their rears, too?" she asked.
Jamey rinsed his hands. "I don't know."
"Come on," she said, taking his dick in her hand, using it as a handle.
"What're you doing?"
"I'm going to show you I can suck too;" she answered, leading him back to the bed.
He lay down on the cool sheets and she embraced his cum-crusty cock with her mouth. He was already half-hard. Slowly, she swirled her tongue around his dork, felt the hot blood rush into his meat.
"Jesus!" he hissed as she bathed his dick. "Watch me," she said. She loved humiliating herself in his eyes.
She felt him watching as she licked his dork like it was a monster popsicle. She nibbled at it, first the top, then the bottom from base to tip. She engulfed the head of it again for a moment.
She imagined being bound to a post while he stood in front of her, fucking his cock into her against her will. Her head would bang back against the pole, the ropes would bite into her arms, her shoulders would be torn apart because her hands would be tied behind her back.
Her pussy flooded at the vision. She writhed around on the bed until her knees were near his head. When she started to straddle him, he guided her knee across his face. Then she lowered her sodden, oozing twat to his mouth and took more of his cock into her maw.
She fondled his balls, rolled them in their soft bag. His legs spread farther apart. Sensing the invitation, feeling his tongue stroking her steaming slit, she slipped her fingers into the sweaty pocket behind his nuts and fumbled blindly.
She touched his asshole, and he moaned into her cunt. His fingers pried at her rear again, found her asshole. She jammed her pussy down on his mouth. Slowly, gently, carefully, her insides curling into a tight, hard knot of horniness, she wriggled the tip of one finger into his rear.
Her reward was a gush of juice from the cock in her mouth. Slowly she drove her finger into his ass. She felt him repaying the favor as she penetrated him. Jesus, sweet Jesus! The hot burning invasion of her ass was unlike anything she could have imagined in a million years.
The knowledge of where she was driving her finger made her guts boil. She tried to get the whole monster mass of his cock in her mouth. She only got a quarter of it in, a third at most.
The tip of her finger was into his asshole now. Once she had made it that far, the rest was easy. Slowly, tantalizingly, she drove deeper and deeper into his shitty depths. She felt his finger dig into her rear while his tongue scooped out her cunt, scooped out her juices and his cum from their earlier fucks.
She put a little pressure on his asshole wall, and felt his prick gush hotly onto her tongue. She pressed again, and was again rewarded by a steaming flow. She sucked harder on his wang, rubbed it with her tongue, pumped her head on it, fucked the rubbery end against the back of her mouth.
His breath bubbled through her streaming snatch as he ate her pulpy folds. Ecstasy was boiling in her pussy. She wriggled and humped against his face and stirred her finger in his dirty road.
But she wasn't cumming, and he wasn't cumming. She felt herself reach a plateau somewhere short of the explosion point and whimpered around his glutting cock. Something was missing, something else was needed to drive her over the peak.
She thought of lying in the weeds and the sun, watching the piss arch out of Carl's cock. She imagined she was under that glittering stream.
It was what she needed to send her over the top. Clinging to the mad, disgusting image, she felt her cumming burst over her like an ocean wave. Jamey captured her clit just at that moment, and bit it. The flames that sparkled through her had a flash-powder quality. His finger in her asshole was a shaft of pain and pleasure.
Using her free hand, she jacked his cock. Then she began stroking his prostate. Her sucking mouth around the throbbing knob, she tongued and milked his monster dork. The air whistled through her nose as she fought to get him to erupt into her mouth.
She felt his nuts tighten up in his groin, felt the first spurt with her hand - a squirmy sensation on the under-surface of his dork as semen ripped the length of his tight tube. Then she was gulping down his thick, creamy spurtings and milking his pumping prostate with her finger. She kept stroking and stroking and stroking the pulsing gland until the last sizzling drizzles of semen were rolling on her tongue.
His finger twisted out of her rear as she rolled off him and flopped on her back. As she extracted her finger from his asshole she wrestled with a vile urge that knotted her stomach. Then she yielded, and felt another orgasm grip her guts.
She held her soiled finger over her face and then slowly lowered it to her mouth. As she sucked her finger clean, her guts wound themselves into a tight burning knot of revulsion and pleasure. She was so turned - on she began shaking.
Then at last she slumped limply to her back on the bed. She lay with no modesty at all - her legs were spraddled wide apart so Jamey had a perfect view of every crevice.
The best parts had been the worst. The foulest, grossest acts were what gave her the unbelievable, roaring cummings.
"You're something else, know that?" Jamey commented a few minutes later as they sat in the kitchen, wolfing down sandwiches. "Oh?"
"A month ago you were the original cock-tease," he noted. "Now I'll bet there's nothing you won't do."
"You're right," she confessed easily. "So, what happened?"
Lynn scraped a dollop of mustard off her tit and licked her finger. "I've been taking lessons, you might say."
"From Carl."
"From Carl," she agreed, adding in her mind, "and Daddy."
Jamey got a calculating look. "I'd kind of like to . . uh ... get in on one of your lessons with Carl some day."
The idea was very intriguing. Helpless while two men worked her over? The thought made her pussy water. "Maybe that can be arranged one of these days."
"Really?"
"I'll do my best. Come on."
"Where we going?" he asked as he got up. From the state of his cock, the thought of sharing her with Carl did things to his glands, too.
"Let's go fuck. I'm horny," she answered, leading him by the dick to the bedroom. Her mind was planning the scene already.
Chapter Six
Lynn studied the empty garage with fresh insight. Recalling what her father had told her shed a new light on the fixtures. Some of them made her tummy twist tight with that blood-tingling mixture of fear and horniness.
Most of it, she had to admit, was just like anyone's garage. The work-bench along the back with its all-purpose vise and rack of tools, for example. The garden implements hanging in neat array on one wall, the lawnmower and wheel barrow standing ready under them.
Even the things that made her tingle could have a perfectly innocent purpose. The eyebolts in the overhead beam, for example, could be for a hoist for working on the car. The drain in the middle of the floor had a sensible purpose, too. Even the coils of rope neatly draped over wooden pegs had uses in a garden or garage. The sawhorses beneath the ropes were spattered with paint, nicked by saw cuts.
But, somehow, she knew that half of what she was looking at had had other uses, years before. The fact that they were still there after so long held a subtle implication that they would be used again. Daddy's stated horror at what Mom had let him do to her hadn't rung quite true.
Lynn climbed the two concrete steps to the side door of the garage and crossed the six-foot breezeway between garage and house. In the kitchen she got a glass of milk, and tried to ignore the way her hands were shaking.
The genes were running true. The way the relatively sane screwing session with Jamey had ended had convinced her of her real nature. More vivid in her mind than the cumming his mammoth cock had given her was the memory of her gut-knotting ecstasy from the mutual finger buggering and what she had done right after.
Lynn squirmed, wriggled her slender thighs together as a surge of horniness itched through her like a burning lizard. The only question left in her mind was how she was going to get her father to do what needed to be done.
After chewing on her thumb for a moment, she put the empty glass in the sink and went to her room and dug into the bottom drawer of her bureau. She hadn't worn the thing in two years. And she had changed a lot in that time. It, plus a little sassiness and a beer or two, should release the animal that was lurking in her father, and in her.
She was bathed, perfumed, made-up and dressed, if it could be called that, when he drove into the driveway. Wearing a robe over what she had found in her bureau, she greeted him at the door with a dainty kiss that delicately hinted of lust.
"Hi, baby," he said, stripping off his tie and jacket.
"Hi, Daddy. Dinner'll be ready in a few minutes. Want a beer?"
"Please," he answered distractedly, his mind on the paper as he settled down in his favorite chair. It wasn't until he was at the dinner table that he commented on her wearing the robe. "How come?" he asked.
Lynn shrugged, and carefully let the front of the robe part to give him a tempting, tantalizing view of her cleavage, but without revealing what she had on under it. "Everything I had seemed to be dirty. "
I'll get you another beer," she said, getting up gracefully.
She cleared the dinner dishes while he had his usual glass of after-dinner wine. She sneaked a glass of sherry for herself. She felt the hot lust-lizard creeping around in her belly, getting bigger and bigger as it fed on her anticipation. Her hand shook, spilled a few drops of the sherry over her fingers. She sucked it off, and felt her guts twist tighter.
She took off the robe and hung it over a chair. Outside the sun was a hot orange ball low in the west. But it wasn't as hot a ball as the one that was searing its way through her insides. She carefully adjusted the too small bra of her two-year-old bikini, and tugged at the bottom half so it covered her bush.
Peter had been fighting his desire for his daughter ever since he had first fucked her. It wasn't that he hadn't had other women since his wife's death. It was that Lynn reminded him so much of her mother that it made him hurt. When Lynn had goaded him into binding, whipping, and then raping her, she had unleashed all the memories he had been keeping so carefully bottled up.
He barely glanced at Lynn when she appeared in the door from the kitchen. Then he did a double take, and felt his cock rocket upwards. He flushed, felt a wave of fury with himself, then instantly transferred the blame to Lynn. The beer and wine steaming through his veins did nothing to help his self-control.
The bikini Lynn was wearing was black nylon and two years too small. He was always surprised by the thrust of her youthful tits. The cups of the suit didn't support them, didn't even cover them adequately any longer. The fact that the undercurve of her lush jugs was visible below the bottom edge of the triangular cups made the effect extremely erotic.
The bottom half of the suit was low on her gently rounded tummy. The knots that tied on the sides of her hips were digging into her tender flesh. Curling wisps of her muff had escaped on the insides of her thighs and above the top edge of the suit.
"What the hell are you wearing that for?" he growled.
The saunter she used to cross the living room toward the television made his blood bubble and steam. "The robe was too hot and it was all I could find," she answered sassily.
In an effort to retreat, he snapped the paper up. "Well go back and try again." His eyes darted over the top edge of the paper, caught sight of her lush butt as she bent over to turn on the television. The suit was riding up into her crack, revealing a wide expanse of her butt cheeks. Remembering the wailing he had given those tender globes made his hands shake. The paper rattled like a seismograph. "No," Lynn said over her shoulder.
"I'm warning you," he grumbled.
"I like it," she sniffed, admiring her sexy lines in the mirror behind the couch. She tugged and adjusted the bra that was mashing her soft jugs, barely concealing her aroused nipples.
"Go put something else on," he rapped, cursing the flames that were roaring up in his groin. "Make me!"
The alcohol made it impossible to keep himself in check. He surged up out of his chair.
"And you'd better do something so I don't scratch your eyes out when you try," Lynn hissed viciously, her fingers curling into claws.
He saw her game in an instant, and a roaring fireball flared in his brain. "You bitch," he groaned, his desire for her overcoming what little judgment he had left.
Lynn's eyes glittered with triumph. She knew she was going to get what she wanted. "Why don't we go out to the garage," she suggested.
"The garage?" Just the mention of it brought back a flood of memories. "How'd you know about the garage?"
"I figured it out."
The memories pounded down the last of his inhibitions in their stampede. "I'll teach you to sass your father," he snarled, gripping her slender arm cruelly and dragging her toward the kitchen. As they crossed the breezeway, the setting sun hit them, bathed them in a lurid red light that made Lynn's body glow like hellfire.
He pushed her into the garage. She stumbled and went down on her hands and knees as he closed and locked the thick steel fire door behind him. Reaching over, he flicked on the lights, bathed the stark concrete floor and his daughter's soft, rounded body in harsh fluorescent light.
His sharp treatment brought Lynn's horniness bubbling to the surface. She got to her feet, rubbing the scrapes from her fall. He loomed over her, his hands flexing. The muscles of his powerful arms stood out. "I'm warning you," she growled. "You'll have to hog-tie me if you want to get me out of this suit."
"That can easily be arranged," he assured her with a softness that curdled her guts.
Balancing wearily on the balls of her feet, she watched him cross the garage and take down a coil of rope. Then he lifted out one of the sawhorses, carried it toward her, and banged it down in the center of the concrete floor. She felt a shudder of terror and arousal as he advanced on her with the rope.
She tried to back away, and stumbled on the bottom step to the door. As she staggered and almost fell, his hand clamped around her wrist like a vise.
She swung her free hand at him, her fear and arousal destroying any desire she might have had to pull the clawed blow. He ducked the swing easily and spun her around, then slipped a loop of rope over her wrist. He grabbed her other arm and had both of them twisted behind her back before she had a chance.
Her feet scraped and scrabbled on the concrete as he hauled her backwards toward the sawhorse. When he kicked the back of her knee, her leg folded sharply. He kept her from hitting the floor by pulling on her arm.
Before she realized what was happening, he had her over the bar of the sawhorse. One quick twist and the rope from her bound wrist was cutting across her just below her barely covered tits. Then her other wrist had a noose around it, and she was trapped. The bar of the sawhorse passed through her arms, across her back. The rope looped from one wrist, across her belly, then to her other wrist and kept her from unhooking her arms from around the bar.
The feeling of helplessness made her pussy weep into the tight, clinging shiny nylon. Her tits ached more from arousal than her knees hurt from the fall she had taken moments ago. She whimpered, struggled weakly, felt the ropes cutting into her wrists and torso.
"I'm going to take a few more turns with the rope," he informed her grimly. "But first I'm going to get that filthy whore's costume off of you."
For a moment she thought he was just going to untie the straps behind her neck and back. But he strode across the harshly-bright garage to the garden tools and took down a sickle. He got a stone and began to hone the edge of the reaper.
"When I'm through with it, you'll never be able to wear it again," he said softly.
He came toward her, the cutting edge of the sickle gleaming brightly. "I wouldn't move a muscle if I were you," he told her. "This is very sharp, even the tip." He fingered the needle point of the tool.
Lynn's guts clenched tight as he drew close. She kept her eyes on the glittering end as he slowly lowered it, and hooked it through the left strap of her bra. She shivered at the touch of the cold, deadly metal against her soft flesh. Without a sound, severed by the keen cutting edge of the curved blade, the thin strap parted. The cup fell away, bared her jutting pink nipple. The other cup, held up by the strap still curled around her neck, stayed up. The exposure of just one of her lush, pale boobs was more erotic than having both bared.
Lynn wished that she hadn't had the surreptitious beer and glass of wine. Terror and arousal had made her bladder full and she needed to pee. She squirmed delicately against the ropes, and felt the remaining bra cup slither on her tit. She had to stay still or it would fall away from her heaving jug.
The sickle came at her again, toward her tender belly this time. The point was up. She looked down and a sudden vision of being gutted by the cruel blade flashed through her mind. The vision wrung a hot trickle of piss from her bloated bladder. The icy steel touched her just below the bra, and hooked up through the thin tie between the cups.
Then, instead of cutting the bra there, between her tits, her father changed his mind. "No, you could repair the straps," he noted, and shifted his attack, dug the point of the sickle between the bottom of the bra cup and her soft, tender boob. She felt the curved tip scratch her warm mound as it scraped up toward her teat. The touch of steel against her nipple sent a searing flare of excitement through her. He eased the point up until it emerged from the top of the cup.
With a slow twist of his wrist, her father slit the cup of the bra. Lynn whimpered and felt her guts wrap themselves into a tight horny knot as he stripped the bra away.
Holding the already tattered scrap of nylon up in front of her face, he proceeded to whittle it into useless slivers with quick flicks of the scalpel-sharp sickle. That done, he started on the bottom half. He made short work of the knotted sides on either flank. The suit fell away, baring her dark bush.
When he aimed the needle point of the sickle at her slit it was more than she could bear. She squeezed her eyes shut, felt the fear-sweat trickle from her armpits. She was balanced precariously in a half squat, unable to sink lower or stand up because of the way she was tied to the sawhorse.
She felt the cold needle tip of steel touch her cunt, then wriggle delicately between her pussy lips.
Her terror overcame her resistance, and a flood of piss burst from her bladder, fountained in a disgusting arch from her snatch. She heard her father laugh at the sight of the humiliating gusher.
The feeling in her belly was beyond belief. God, she was horny! He hadn't yet touched her with hands or cock and she was already a raving maniac.
One corner of Peter's mind was horrified at what he was doing. A gibbering little monkey was reminding him over and over again that it was his own daughter he was threatening with the sickle. But the bottled lust of the last ten years overwhelmed the single imp. The sight of her yellow fear gushing from her snatch made his balls steam.
"Now a few more turns of the rope," he decided, wiping the piss-drenched sickle. After returning it to its place, he went around behind her.
Briskly, efficiently, he bound his daughter more tightly to the sawhorse, wound the rope around her torso, crossed it over her breasts, pulled it taut so it cut into her soft mounds. He finished the job by lashing her wrists as close together as he could without dislocating her shoulders.
"Oooohhhh, Daddy, it hurts," Lynn moaned. "Aww God, I love it."
"Slutty bitch," he grunted. "Just like your mother."
"Yes," she hissed as lust raged through her tormented body. "Oh, God, yes, I am. Punish me, please, punish me."
She was totally helpless. The rope had welded her to the sharp-cornered two-by-four of the sawhorse. The harsh bindings cut into her soft flesh, while the bar of the sawhorse dug into her shoulder blades and back and into her arms where they were bent around it.
Sweat was making his clothes stick to his back and shoulders. With a wrench he dragged the shirt off, then his undershirt. His powerful chest gleamed with sweat in the harsh light. His cock was an aching knot of agony from being cramped in his pants. While she watched, her eyes glittering, he unfastened his belt and pulled it out of the loops. Casually, he draped it around her neck, then shed his pants and underpants, bared his jutting hard-on to her ravenous, terror-racked gaze.
Dragging the belt from around her neck, he stroked it through his hands once, twice, then drew it back and flicked it across her tits where they jutted out between the cutting coils of rope.
The first stroke brought a wail of agony. He knew her titties were supersensitive. They were distended with blood and pinched outward by the ropes. He recalled how his wife had loved having hers tortured. He had lust-wrenching memories of first fastening clothes pins to her tits, and later sharp metal alligator clips. The pin would wring moans and whines from her as her cunt drooled its hunger to the cement floor.
Peter flicked the harsh inner-side of the belt against Lynn's tits again and again. Soon she was whining and moaning and writhing and sweat was beading her face. Tears were trickling down her cheeks.
"Awwww God, awwww God, awwww God," she wailed as the pain and pleasure stripped away the layers of civilization, bared her wanton animal core.
Unable to bear the throbbing agony in his groin any longer, Peter threw the belt aside, sent it skittering and coiling across the floor like a snake. Grasping his dork, he stepped toward Lynn and aimed his dick at her passion-twisted mouth.
She saw him coming. He saw gross lust flare on her face as she licked her lips. He saw the hunger in her eyes, and wished he had the willpower to withhold the meal from her ravenous mouth. The thought of tormenting her by not giving her his cock to suck brought a fresh steaming flow of cum from his swollen nuts.
He touched his dick to her lips, and watched her nibble his knob with tender, loving devotion. Slowly, he eased his dork into her and let her sweep his pecker head clean with her tongue and lips. He studied how it distended her lips.
He spiked her face with his cock with loving slowness, felt her hot mouth embrace his steaming meat. Her lips slid down its length, wrinkling the soft skin. Her tongue made love to the nerve-packed underside of his shaft, triggered a sizzling flow of pre-cum.
Reaching down, he cupped her head in his hands. He stroked stray strands of hair out of her face and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs the way he had when she had fallen and skinned her knee as a child. And all the while his monster cock was stuffing her sucking mouth.
Lynn was totally devoted to the man who had bound her to the sawhorse. The searing agony in her tits, the pain in her tortured shoulders, the ache in her half-squatting legs, all were testimony of his love for her.
As he tenderly wiped away her tears, she suckled on his steaming dork. She tasted the hot leakings of his glans and stroked his shaft with her tongue, tried to bring more. He began to fuck his dick in and out of her mouth as she sucked and drew on him, tried to trigger the blistering flow of his cum.
"Cock-sucker," he growled at her. "Cock-sucker."
The word made her insides coil with pleasure. She was a cock-sucker, his cock-sucker. She was his cock-sucking daughter, slave, and lover. She felt his pecker bruise her throat as he pumped it into her slurping mouth. Spit drooled down her chin as her mouth flooded from the delectable taste of his seepings.
He was ramming at her, harder. His grip on her became stronger, more demanding. She managed to get more and more of his rigid rod into her mouth. His balls swung, battered her chin with every stroke. She snorted through her nose, sucked in air whenever the chance came - when his cock wasn't blocking her windpipe. She sensed the growing tightness in his groin, and braced herself for the deluge that was to come.
In a final wrench of cruel self-control, Peter ripped his cock free of his daughter's sucking mouth just as the first searing glob of cum ripped the length of his shaft. Thick white semen burst over her nose and cheek like a spitball. Holding his spurting dork in his fist, he shook the next spattering over her eyes.
Her mouth gaping like a fish's, she tried to catch his gooey spoutings on her tongue. The sight of her hungering for his semen made his groin knot tighter, and wring more pleasure, more burning jism from his pounding prostate. He plunged his still-fountaining dick into her ravenous mouth and felt her suck and draw on his cock as wave after wave flooded over her tongue and down her gulping throat.
Holding her head between his palms, he burrowed his spurting prick deep into her. Finally, she had drawn the last of his searing essence from him. She kept on sucking his pecker until it was shriveled and withered. It was as if she had extracted the very blood from its tissues. When he drew away at last, she let her head hang wearily. Creamy juice was trickling slowly down her face, her chin was dripping spit and jizz.
Stalking over to his pants, he yanked out a cigarette and matches. After lighting up, he dragged out a stool and eased his butt onto the cold metal seat. He studied his helpless offspring pensively as he smoked. For a few minutes she just panted wearily with her eyes closed and her head hanging. Then she roused and glanced around, obviously afraid he had abandoned her. She squirmed against the ropes, shifted her cramped legs to ease the pain in them.
"Oh, Daddy," she sighed. "Slut," he snorted.
"Yes, Daddy," she agreed humbly. "Where do you and Carl go?"
"There's a shack, out in the woods on the south side of town."
"How many times have you been there?" "Twice. Once, the time I told you about, with just Carl. The second time was with Sandra and Carl."
Peter dragged on his cigarette. "She that incredibly stacked brunette?"
"Yes."
Peter snorted. "Slut."
"Yes, Daddy," she whispered in a tone that was an insane mixture of shame and pleasure.
"The ropes hurt?" "Yes, Daddy."
Stubbing out the cigarette, he got to his feet. "Shouldn't have had so much beer," he grunted. "I need to take a leak." He started for the door.
"Don't leave me!" Lynn called sharply. "Huh?" He turned on her.
"Please, don't leave me," she whimpered, really begging for something she couldn't put into words. "I got to pee," he complained. "Don't worry, I'm not through with you yet."
"Please, don't leave me," she repeated. "There . . . there's a drain in the floor. Right under me." For a moment he stood there, his heart beating hard and fast. "Just like your mother," he whispered. "A filthy, piss-loving whore."
Lynn hung her head. "Yes," she moaned. "Yes." "Bitch," Peter snarled, coming toward her. "Foul, filthy, wanton bitch."
Lynn lifted her head, and squirmed against the ropes cutting into her breasts and shoulders. Her lust wrenched the words from her, "Piss on me, Daddy. Piss on me. Use your piss to wash the cum off my face."
"Sweet Jesus," Peter growled, his lust fire-balling up through him like an atomic blast. The need to piss was a red-hot cannonball in his gut.
"Please," Lynn moaned, her dark eyes fastened on his half-hard dork.
Grasping his pecker, Peter aimed it at his daughter's face. The urine erupted from his cock like spray from a fire-hose. The glittering yellow stream splashed over her forehead and eyes, sluiced down her nose and cheeks, carrying away with it the slimy remnants of his cumming. Her mouth opened and the hot stream played over her tongue and teeth. Then he lowered his aim, hosed her tits and belly.
Lynn was being cremated by her roaring lust. She had seen his dick spit, and then she was being pounded by the steaming flood. Hot piss had spattered on her face, her eyes, drowned her in its salty essence. It had streamed in hot rivers down her cheeks and her lips, washed over her shoulders and her body.
She had felt the river shifting and opened her mouth, let him wash the cum from her tongue and cheeks with his salty wastes. Then he had hosed her body with piss.
Her pussy had knotted in a series of orgasmic waves as his pee had streamed from her body, then swirled and gurgled into the drain between her thighs. The hosing went on and on and on, then ended in a series of quick, sharp spurts that got her tits.
She shivered, felt his piss chill her as it evaporated. She felt drops trickling slowly down her face and her body and tipped her head back, rolled it from side to side to make the urine trace sinuous paths over her cheeks.
"Oh my God," she sighed as the ecstatic after-quake of her sodden cumming twisted through her tormented body.
"Now you're almost as filthy on the outside as you are on the inside," Peter told her, angry at himself for the raging lust he was feeling from all he had done to her. And he knew he wasn't finished with her yet.
"You disgust me," he growled. "You're filthy with piss. You need a shower." Going over to the wall, he uncoiled the hose attached to the faucet and gave the valve a twist. The hose stiffened as the pressure fought the pistol-grip nozzle at the end.
Lynn bellowed with shock as the stinging stream of ice-cold water lashed her tits. Bucking and writhing against the ropes, she gasped for air as the frigid stream battered and pounded her exposed flesh. The water hit her face, her eyes, flooded her nose and mouth. She twisted to avoid it, battled the unyielding ropes that held her wrapped to the sawhorse. Sputtering and choking, she felt the stream pound her tits, then her belly and thighs as her father washed off his piss. He moved behind her and the stream played over her back and shoulders, then her ass.
He finished by moving around in front of her and aiming the hammering jet of water at her gaping pussy. The water lashed her cunt into searing flame, ripped along her tender folds, pounded her clit, douched her ravenous, streaming hole.
The spray cut off sharply when he released the handle on the nozzle. For a moment all she could do was gasp, trying to catch her breath. She felt a hot flush spreading over her body as her blood vessels dilated in reaction to the frigid hosing. Her hair hung in matted strings around her face. Chilly rivulets streamed from the sodden locks.
"Oh, my God," she whispered as unholy sensations raged through her ravaged body.
"Poor, slutty bitch," Peter growled at his daughter. "You really love it, don't you?"
"Yes," she admitted softly. "Yes."
"I've got one last treat for you tonight," he said ominously.
"Anything," she sighed ecstatically. "Anything at all."
"Back through under the sawhorse," he ordered. Awkwardly, squirming like a duck walking backwards, Lynn waddled under the bar she was lashed to. The act of rotating around the two-by-four tore the skin off her back and inner arms. The ropes cut deeper into her tits.
"Stretch your legs out," he ordered from behind her.
Her knees creaked with agony as they straightened. She was now hanging under the sawhorse by her arms, face down. Her ass was high in the air. Dropping her head, she looked back along her body, past her rope-ravaged breasts, past the soggy curls of her twat. She saw him standing behind her, ten feet back.
He had a jar in his hand. He was smearing his towering hard-on with something oily. His gaze was focused on her invitingly offered tail.
"Know what I'm going to do?" he asked softly. "Tell me," she whispered, wanting to hear it from his lips. A flame of anticipation was flaring in her belly.
"I'm going to bugger you," he answered. "I'm going to ram my cock into your asshole. I am going to drive every inch of my dick up your rear. Then I am going to fuck it in and out of you until I cum." "Ahhhh, God," Lynn gasped.
She let her head hang, and watched him advance on her. He paused, and she felt him smear her ass crack with lubricant. The sudden penetration of her asshole by his finger wrenched a gut-deep moan from her. He twisted and turned his finger in her shitty socket, then drew it out, left her bung burning and eager.
Then, tormentingly, he ran his cock up and down the crack of her ass. The hot stroking of his pecker made her pussy drool. He teased it with his pecker, until she was ready to scream with hunger.
Then he touched the hot knob to her asshole and a wave of fire surged through her. Gone from her mind was the pain and degradation. All that was left was delicious warm anticipation of having her ass violated by her father's cock.
"Just like your mother's," Peter grunted as he studied Lynn's lush, white ass. His cock was an arrow parting her butt cheeks, a mis-aimed Cupid's dart splitting a Valentine from the top. He pushed slowly, felt her asshole resist his penetration, felt the rubbery ring pinch his cock head. He felt her asshole wink as she fought to admit him, felt his dick tip pinched as she succeeded.
Wriggling his cock from side to side, he slowly wormed it into her winking butt-hole. His balls steaming in anticipation, he thought of the hot socket that would clasp his dork.
Lynn moaned, made his blood steam as he wedged half his cock head into her resisting rear. He drove harder, felt his dick slither through on a coating of grease. He felt her bung clamp into the groove behind his knob. The hot grip of her shitter on his cock head almost brought him off right then. He paused for a moment, let the urge to cum fade. It was difficult, because he could feel her shitter winking around his shaft.
Then he slowly fed her asshole the remainder of his throbbing tower. The greasy walls of her rectum stroked his prick, sent flames surging along her nerves. The pool of jizz in his groin seethed and bubbled eagerly as he drilled full depth into her ass.
Lynn felt like she was being split open by the tower driving into her asshole. The first dilation of her bung, as the muscle tried to accommodate itself to the unfamiliar penetration, had been exquisitely painful. Then it had burned, and stung, and at the same time, itched for more. When he had stopped with the head of his dork in her, the stabbing, stretching feeling had faded to a delicious ache. Then he had driven into her the rest of the way, and it had been like a shit in reverse. She had gone from empty to full as his shaft filled her rectum.
His hands gripped her waist, and he began to slowly piston his cock in and out of her rear. The friction between cock and asshole walls was fantastic. As her shit tube was stroked by her father's prick, an orgasm roared toward her with the inexorable force of a tidal wave.
The tight hot grasp of Lynn's asshole brought Peter to the explosion point in a few slow strokes. He fought to keep from ramming hard into her, afraid of tearing her with his impatient prick. He did manage on the last stroke to gently bury the full mammoth length of his shaft in her greasy tube. His balls, knotting up against his gut, nudged her hairy pussy labes. Then his groin exploded, hosed her bowels with searing waves of cum.
Lynn's orgasm swept over her and tumbled her into a wilderness of carnal pleasure. She felt her guts being hosed with hot semen, felt the cock in her ass spasming until she was filled with live steam.
His pecker was still socketed in her asshole when she felt him untying the knots that bound her to the sawhorse. He unwound the coils of rope and eased her arms from around the hard bar. Sliding down, she let his shrinking dick slither out of her rear as tingles sizzled through her from the returning flow of blood.
Before he could back away, she turned and wrapped her arms around his hairy legs. Her mouth found his dork. As she slurped his cock clean, her insides slowly crisped to ashes.
Chapter Seven
The incredible itch was burning in Lynn's groin again. She knew her father was casting lip-licking glances at her tits. They were provocatively hazy under the nearly transparent pajamas she was wearing. Sitting primly, carefully straight, she picked away at her cereal, and waited for him to do something.
She didn't understand him yet. Maybe she never would. If driven far enough, he would subject her to sexual humiliations and perversions that were beyond belief. At other times, like the present, his attitude toward her was strictly proper father to daughter.
It was almost as if there was a safety valve inside him. Get the pressures high enough and sadistic, domineering lust exploded. It took a while for the pressures to rebuild after they were released.
It had been a week since he had taken her in the garage. Lynn hoped that was long enough. Her belly was a clenched knot of horniness. She knew if her father didn't satisfy her, she would go in search of Carl. There wasn't any question of looking for Jamey Dwayne, unless she found Carl first. Jamey's mammoth cock wasn't enough to slake her horniness, even though she had managed to convince herself that it was that one time with him. She needed ropes and whips to bring her off. She knew that now.
Giving a soft sigh, she felt her tits stiffening and swelling at the thought of being roped and raped. Pain and pleasure were twisted together inside her and couldn't be separated. The simple screwing Jamey had given her had been relatively satisfying only because of his gigantic dork.
She squirmed restlessly, felt her burning tits shift, felt them stroke the soft, transparent pajamas. Her pussy was steaming ravenously. She opened and closed her thighs restlessly. Surreptitiously, she sneaked her free hand into her crotch and rubbed her soft labes through the panties. "What are your plans for today?" her father asked, startling her, making her flinch.
"Oh, nothing special," she sighed.
Peter wasn't unaware of her hominess. His own guts knotted with lust just at the sight of her. He wanted to see her tits being gouged by ropes, to have her helpless while he plunged his cock into her sizzling twat. He knew she was begging for it, and was deliberately torturing them both by holding off.
Also, he had a plan nagging the back of his mind, a plan that would increase the pleasure for all of them. If one man and one cock were good, then two men and two cocks would be great. The thought of two dorks spearing his helplessly twitching daughter nearly made him cream in his pants.
"I'm going to be out all day," he informed her, his chest hot as he feasted his eyes on her rising and falling tits. Christ how he wanted to sink his fingers into those soft mounds!
"Oh, Daddy, no!"
"Sorry, baby, but it can't be helped." His lust made it easy to carry off the lie. "Business."
"Oh, okay."
He could see her mind working, feel her disappointment from across the table. Okay, give her the opening she needs. "Why don't you have a couple of friends over or something? There's plenty in the refrigerator, and records to dance to."
The spoon that had been stirring the dregs of her cereal paused. He could see the wheels turning behind her hot, dark eyes. "You can have the run of the whole place," he added.
Lynn thought, thought of having Carl here, to the garage, with all it had to offer. She was remembering, too, her idea of having Jamey present the next time she turned herself over to Carl's untended mercies.
"Well, I've got to be going," Peter said, putting his napkin on the table. He glanced out the window at the sheets of gray rain. "Not a day fit for man or beast."
Lynn wondered if the cabin in the woods leaked. The dirt road leading to it would be a swamp. They wouldn't be able to reach it, she realized.
Her horniness was too demanding to endure. She would have to find some way to slake it. She kissed her father good-bye. As he went out to his car, the flames began crackling in her guts.
Her hand shook like a leaf when she tried to dial. The endless burring at the other end of the line sent her spirits diving. It meant she would have to go out in search of Carl.
Just as she was starting for her room to get dressed, the doorbell chimed. She froze, and glanced down at her revealing outfit. Then she shrugged and started toward the door. Probably it was her father coming back for something. After all, it was nine in the morning, and a rainy one at that.
She regretted her decision the moment she opened the door. Without warning, it rammed into her, driven by whoever was on the other side. For a moment she resisted, then she was slammed against the wall.
Jamey Dwayne shoved into the house and banged the door shut.
Insanely, Lynn tried to hide her breasts and pussy with her hands. "Jamey, what're you doing here?"
Jamey loomed over her. His blue eyes were glittering, his hands were opening and closing. "I waited for your father to leave," he answered.
"Well," Lynn said, trying to gather her courage. "I think you had better go."
Jamey ignored her statement. "I've been talking with Carl."
"Talking with Carl?"
"Seems all this time I've been treating you like a lady," Jamey went on, "when I should have been treating you like a whore."
Lynn felt her insides clench at the threat, the insult. "Now wait just a minute!"
"No, you wait a minute," he retorted, advancing on her ominously. "You teased me for weeks. Then after Carl broke you in, you took my cock like you were granting some incredible favor." "Jamey, I'm warning you, I'll call the cops,"
Lynn said shakily, reaching for the phone.
He cuffed her away from it as if he was swatting a fly. Lynn staggered and fetched up against the door to the living room. There was a hot flush on her cheek from the casual slap-and a sudden soaring surge of horniness in her crotch.
Jamey kept her off balance, kept pushing and shoving her as he herded her into the living room. "Where's some rope?" he demanded. "Come on, give! I know what you like. Where's the rope?"
"The garage . . . " Her words were cut off when Jamey suddenly ripped the flimsy pajama top off her. She stumbled backwards over a chair.
Grabbing her arms, he yanked her to her feet, and spun her around. Her tits jiggled enticingly. Holding her in a double hammer lock, he propelled her ahead of him through the house to the kitchen. "You're hurting me," Lynn protested.
"And you love it," Jamey growled.
Lynn's snatch was clenching and squirming with arousal. She made feeble, half-hearted attempts to escape Jamey's grasp. They were more to prove to herself that she was helpless than anything else.
"Someone will see us," Lynn protested as he clamped both her wrists in one strong hand and reached to open the door to the breezeway.
"Tough shit," he snorted, yanking the door open and shoving her through. He never relaxed his bone-crushing grip on her wrists.
The touch of the cool mist on her nearly naked body made her wriggle erotically. He paused to open the door to the garage.
Once inside, she thought he would let go of her. He didn't. He kicked the door shut behind him, but didn't bother with the lock. Standing at the top of the steps, he studied the naked expanse of concrete and the tools ranked around the walls. Spotting the light switch, he flicked it on. The overhead fluorescents struggled to life.
Lynn squirmed, uselessly, then stumbled and almost fell when he pushed her down the two steps. The concrete was frigid under her bare feet, and the garage was cool enough to raise goose bumps on her naked flesh. Her tits, already rigid with horniness, stiffened still more from the touch of cold air.
"What are you going to do to me?" she asked in a tone rich with fear and lust.
"What I should have done weeks ago," Jamey growled. "I'm going to rape the hell out of you." "Noooo," Lynn moaned while her pussy swamped itself with sex juice.
"But first I'm going to make sure you can't get away," he added, dragging her toward the wall of rope. "Looks like there's enough here to hang you if I want to."
The thought of hemp slowly choking the life out of her brought Lynn's lust to the flash point. Jamey studied what was available. "Rope seems too gentle for you," he mused, and reached instead for a chain. It had hooks at both ends. It rattled and clattered as he shook it out with one hand. It looked like it was about twenty feet long, maybe more. The gray steel links looked icy. In comparison, hemp rope was soft and warm. Lynn thought of the cruel steel cutting into her, binding her, and bit her lip as a wave of lust and terror brought tears to her eyes and her twat.
Ignoring her feeble wiggling, Jamey looped the chain around her wrists twice, and pulled it tight until she was sure her forearms were going to break. With a brisk click, he secured the two loops with the hook at the end. Then he released her wrists and used the free length of chain as a leash. Is this a private party? Or can anyone join in?"
Lynn whirled at the sound of Carl's voice. He was standing in the door from the breezeway. He was leaning against the frame casually. His arms were folded across his powerful chest.
He didn't wait for an answer. He pushed the door shut behind him, and joined them. "Thought I'd find you here," he said to Jamey.
"Oh?"
Carl grinned. "Sure. After what I told you about my little slave, I figured you wouldn't be able to stay away from her."
"Yeah, well you can just leave again," Jamey growled, the chain clanking in his grasp.
Carl strolled around and studied Lynn from every angle. She tried to look defiant, but the chain digging into her arms was too great a reminder of her helplessness. "Tut-tut," Carl clucked. "There's enough for both of us, even if we don't feel like taking turns." He gazed around the garage. "Must say, this place has marvelous possibilities. I heard some stories about her mother, and from the looks of it, they were true." "What'd you hear?" Jamey asked.
"Seems she liked it rough, too," Carl answered. "Bondage, beatings, rape, the whole bit. Even liked to get pissed on," Carl added, turning to Lynn. "Right, slut?"
Lynn tried to deny it with her eyes, because she didn't trust her voice. It didn't work and her gaze slipped away from Carl's hard one.
"I'll bet you like it, too," Carl purred ominously. Reaching down, he felt the crotch of her panties insolently. "Sopping wet at the thought of it, aren't you, slut?"
Lynn hung her head in embarrassment as flames made her shudder. His fingers toyed with her twat through her pajamas, pinched and fondled her soft labes, pressed and rolled her clit.
When he let go of her pussy, he grasped her arm and turned her, inspected the chains that were binding her arms in a double hammerlock. "Chains! Wish I'd thought of that," Carl grunted.
"Yeah, well I'm the one who did," Jamey snapped, trying to regain control of the situation. Carl backed away and leaned against the workbench. "Carry on, carry on," he urged. "Don't let me stop you. I'm willing to take sloppy seconds."
Jamey paused, flustered, unsure of himself.
"Maybe the chains would look good digging into those little titties of hers," Carl suggested casually, toying with the vise, spinning the jaws open and closed.
"Yeah," Jamey agreed. While Lynn stood there, frozen in place, wearing only a flimsy pair of panties, he began to wrap the chill steel links around her. She bit back a moan as her flesh was pinched by the cruel, cold links. Looking down, she saw the chain digging into her soft, tender boobs.
"Not the tits," Carl cautioned. "We'll have other uses for them."
Jamey pulled the chain tight and crossed it under her jugs, made them lift up. Then he took two turns across the tops of her jutting boobs. Because of the pressure of the chain on her soft globes, her nipples protruded anxiously.
More than just the coldness, which was fading quickly as the chain was warmed by her body, Lynn was aware of the weight. The chain was heavy, dragging on her flesh.
"She loves to suck cock," Carl told Jamey.
"I know it," Jamey answered, still a little irritated by Carl's presence. Unzipping his fly, he released his titanic dork.
"Sonovabitch!" Carl grunted at the sight of it. "Down on your knees," Jamey ordered Lynn. With a moan of lust, Lynn dropped to the floor. She winced at the bruising impact with the concrete. Jamey brandished his mammoth shaft in her face. She smelled his arousal, the musky scent of his pre-cum. With a wanton groan, she opened her mouth, sought his gigantic prick. Thinking of what she must look like, holding in her mind the feel of the steel chain weighing her down, she engulfed the head of Jamey's dork with her sucking lips.
As she slurped and drew on Jamey's cock, Carl began to undress. He was naked in about two seconds flat. His pecker stood out stiff as a pole as he started toward her. Horniness was a flame in his gut as he studied the chains digging deep into Lynn's body. Her mouth gaped wide, embraced the monster knob of Jamey's cock.
Lynn was stroking her head slowly, forward and back, driving Jamey's cock down her throat. The fire in her loins had cremated the last of her inhibitions. She would do anything they wanted, anything at all, and she knew that they knew it.
Jamey's hands gripped her head and began guiding her. His hips thrust as he stared down hungrily, watching his dork splitting her mouth. His thrusts became harder, sharper, more demanding. Soon she was weeping from the pain of the oral rape. He was oblivious to her choking and gasping. He rammed his cock down her throat, making her gag and try to retch out the brutal block of meat.
He slammed into her, and she felt his dick spurt, spout, felt thick creamy essence stream over her tongue and down her throat. Choking, she gulped desperately. Wriggling against the steel chain, feeling it bite into her tits, her arms, she swallowed and swallowed. She had to or she would drown in hot cream. He didn't let her draw away until his dick was totally drained. Then he carefully wiped his spit- and cum-coated dork on her cheeks and eyelids and nose.
"Slut," he hissed.
"She loves it," Peter Stevens commented as he latched the door behind himself and began undressing.
"Jesus Christ!" Jamey yelped.
Lynn wanted to crawl into a hole. What was her father doing here?
"Son-of-a-bitch," Carl snapped in obvious frustration.
Casually, Peter continued undressing. He dropped his clothes to the floor, revealed his thrusting hard-on. "Don't mind me, I'll wait my turn," he assured the two boys.
"You knew about this?" Carl asked suspiciously. "I knew about you, and suspected about you," Peter answered, nodding at Jamey.
"But she's your daughter!" Jamey protested. "Disgusting, isn't it?" Peter asked mildly. "Almost like screwing your sister."
Jamey went pale. "How did you know?"
"I didn't," Peter chuckled. "But I suspected." "You don't mind?" Carl asked. "I mean, about us and Lynn?"
Peter shook his head. "She loves it. Who am I to stand in the way of my daughter's happiness?"
Carl brandished his thrusting dork. "Then you don't mind if I, ah, enjoy myself?"
"Be my guest," Peter said. "Care for a beer?" He went to the old refrigerator in the corner and opened it, got out three bottles.
Carl had jerked Lynn to her feet and was using the chain to guide her over to the workbench. "Bend over, bitch," he ordered.
Lynn followed his orders, leaning forward on the bench. Her tit was in the jaws of the vise. Slowly, Carl wound it closed on the protruding, tender berry of her nipple. The touch of the chill steel against her nubbin wrenched a desperate whimper from her.
"Not too tight," Carl hissed, carefully closing the vise until it had a mouthful of her flesh and was gently grinding it. "But tight enough for you to feel it."
Lynn moaned at the agonizing ache as her boob was slowly mangled between the brutal steel jaws. When he released her after what seemed a century, her jug ached and throbbed. Bending her over the end of the bench, he forced her head down on the cold surface spattered with paint and sawdust and oil, ground her cheek against the hard planks. Then he ripped away her panties. She felt his dick at her pussy and sighed.
He slammed his cock into her with a single brutal thrust that left her gasping for air. While her father drank his beer and watched, she was pounded by Carl's dork, jolted by his slamming impacts against her ass as he fucked her. She realized that she was cumming, sort of. She had been cumming ever since the chains had bitten into her breasts. The stroking of Carl's cock into her flooded pussy increased her ecstasy. The chain scraped her flesh, rattled against the edge of the workbench as she was jolted by Carl's raping drives.
She felt his dork leaping in her cunt, felt his hot semen flood her spasming cunny. With a shrill whine, she acknowledged her absolute pleasure at being hosed with his thick jism. She wriggled against his spurting pecker until she felt the overflow trickle from her abused pussy and dribble down her spread thighs.
Then Carl pulled away, left her leaning helplessly against the workbench. She managed to twist around. She was just in time to see her father start toward her, his cock leading the way. There was a hot gleam in his eyes.
This time it was a face-to-face ravishing. He bent her back against the workbench and hooked his cock up into her streaming twat. "Slut," he hissed, putting his hand on her throat and forcing her farther and farther backwards. He drove his dork into her with quick sharp thrusting drives that jolted the wind from her in soft huffs.
It was over in seconds. His cum spurted up into her already sodden tunnel. Waves of goo flowed from her drenched twat, flooded down her thighs in hot, sticky waves. When he was done, he grabbed the chain and yanked her to her feet. "Get over there in the middle of the floor and kneel," he ordered, giving her a hard shove. Weakly, Lynn sank down over the drain. "Oh God," she moaned as lust raged through her, left her shivering and weak, in the grip of her pain and humiliation.
"She really does like it," Jamey commented.
"In the mouth, up the ass, anywhere," Peter agreed, finishing his beer. "Just like her mother." The fact that it was her own father who was exposing the vileness of her desires made it all the more agonizing, and arousing. Kneeling in the center of the floor, her head hanging, she felt their eyes on her. She was aware of the warm smell of sex rising from her steaming pussy, and, in her belly, of a building need to pee.
"Is it true she likes to get pissed on?" Carl asked, trying, unsuccessfully, to sound casual. "Ask her," Peter grunted, flipping his empty beer can into a trash barrel.
Lynn didn't look up when Carl's feet appeared in front of her. He grabbed her tousled brown locks and yanked her head back. "Well, do you?" he asked harshly.
She tried to deny it, tried to fight back the tears of pain and degradation. But in the end she nodded. "Yes," she whispered miserably as her guts knotted with lust. She squirmed, thigh against thigh as her horniness built again.
"Coffee and beer," Carl said softly, "really get my kidney's flowing. You want it?"
Lynn bit her lip. She did, dear God, she did want it. She felt sick as she tried to deny it and failed.
"Tell me, bitch, do you want it?" Carl rasped. "I want it," she whispered.
"Louder!"
"I want it," she said, louder.
"Want what?" He sneered when she looked up at him. "Say it real loud, bitch:"
"I want ... you ... to piss on me," she said, choking the words out past the lump in her throat. "Beg for it," he snarled.
"Please," she moaned. "Please, please, piss on me, use me as a toilet, please, please, please." Her voice faded off into a mad mumble as tears of shame trickled down her cheeks.
Stepping back, Carl grasped his half-hard cock. "Open your eyes, bitch, so you can see it coming." She did as ordered and saw a hot stream erupt from his dork. Boiling acid spattered over her helpless body. As she writhed in agony, he played his piss over her tits and throat, her face, down to her thighs and belly. It went on and on and on. Then suddenly her own bladder couldn't be restrained any longer, and she felt her pee gush from her pussy, spurt over her thighs. She pinched them closed in a vain attempt to conceal what was happening.
"Goddamn. Pisses on herself, too," Carl grunted as his flow dwindled, then spurted one last time. "Too bad I ran out."
Then Jamey was there, and she was being flooded by his hot stream. Lynn didn't care any more. It was a sick hot shower. Fragrant piss flowed over her ravaged. body. Her father joined, added his stream to her disgusting bath.
She was left whimpering and moaning in the center of a puddle. She could hear it trickling down the drain under her. For a long time no one did anything but stare at her huddled form. She felt the piss drying coldly on her naked body.
Then, with an abject moan of total humiliation, she crawled to her father, and proceeded to take his still-dripping dick into her mouth. Her chained fifteen-year-old body squirmed with wanton lust as she massaged his dick to life with her tongue and lips.
Someone came up behind her and she felt a cock nuzzle into her ass crack. With a moan she submitted, let her shitter be slowly, agonizingly driven open by an un-lubricated dork. If it was Jamey, she knew she was doomed. His monster prick was too big.
She sucked on her father's prick and groaned with disappointment when she realized it was Carl's cock violating her shitter. She felt like she was spitted on two cocks as she sucked on one and took the other up her rear. She should be over an open fire, should be being twisted and turned on the two spikes.
"Get her on her back on top of you, Carl," Peter said, pulling his cock out of her mouth.
There was a mad giddy moment, and then she was on her back. Her legs were spread around Carl's as he lay under her. His cock was socketed full depth in her asshole. It felt like a steel bar was in her rear. His hands clutched at her. Her arms were grinding into his gut. The chain was pinched between them, and the links were grating against each other.
Her father came down on top of her and his cock found her cunt. With a moan, she felt his cock ram slowly into her pinched-shut cunny.
Carl hadn't believed what was coming, until he felt Peter's dork sliding into Lynn's cunt. He felt it through the thin tissue barrier between asshole and cunt. It felt as if a roller was slowly stroking up along his squeezed, sheathed cock. "Sonovabitch, I won't even have to move," he grunted.
Peter didn't care. He was pistoning his dork in his daughter, feeling the piss on her smearing his body as he ravaged her. Her cunt was pinched tight by the cock up her rear. The pressure and friction against his dong was exquisite.
Then he saw Jamey kneel down, and shove his monster dork into Lynn's mouth. Peter almost came in his daughter right then. His balls throbbed as he held back, and watched Lynn suck on the purple cap of Jamey's dick.
At long last Lynn was getting enough cock. She was pinched like a kernel of wheat between two millstones. The chain ground into her abused body. She was nothing but a receptacle for three mammoth dorks. She was reduced to a puddle of lust as the cock in her cunt, her father's cock, stroked in and out, in and out. Then Carl moved in her asshole and she was being rolled into a tiny pill of carnality. She was tossed in the air as they began to cum in her. She couldn't tell if it was all at once or one after the other. She was carried away into darkness on a steaming sea of cum. She gulped down Jamey's creamy contribution as the others hosed her asshole and cunt with theirs.
She came to slowly as the chains were unwrapped from around her aching breasts and arms. She was sitting on her father's lap. Moaning softly, she felt daggers driving into her shoulders and elbows as she straightened her arms. She turned and leaned against her father while Jamey and Carl unfastened her wrists.
"Carl, there's a collar over there on the wall," Peter told the youth.
Lynn watched, her insides soft and warm and satiated. Carl came back with a black leather band an inch wide. It was studded with chrome welts and rings.
"I think you've earned this now," Peter told his daughter. Reaching for his pants, he dragged them over and got out his keys.
Lynn didn't need to be told. She squirmed out of his lap and knelt subserviently in front of him. As she watched, he unlocked the padlock on the slave collar. She lowered her head and he slipped the cold leather around her slender throat. She felt, and heard, the lock click shut behind her. She felt more loved than she ever had in her entire life.
"I'll keep the key, but that collar is a symbol of your enslavement to Jamey and Carl as well as to me. Understood?"
Lynn nodded. Tears glistened in her eyes. "When you marry, your husband gets the key," Peter went on. "Now, go hose yourself off. You're filthy."
"Yesssir," Lynn said softly as she got to her feet. The collar was heavy around her throat. The heat from her lust and love made her practically oblivious of the chill of the water as she washed off their piss and cum.
