The question of guilt dates back to, and is inextricably bound up with, the very beginning of humanity's history. Was Eve guilty for taking the first bite of the apple--or for tempting Adam to take his first bite? Was the serpent who tempted Eve in the first place the original guilty party? A few years later, did Cain become the first actual criminal when he killed his brother Abel?
In modern psychiatric terms, do any of these questions have any real meaning?
In the thinking of at least one contemporary authority, these questions call for a good deal of re-examination. Nicholas N. Kittrie, S.J.D., Director of the Institute for Studies in Justice and Social Behavior of The American University Law School, in an article published in Federal Probation magazine, had these pertinent comments to make:
"Guilt is a legal concept, not a scientific fact. In modern society it is the function of courts of law, rather than witch doctors, legislatures, or bureaucrats to decree guilt and innocence and to assess punishment upon those found guilty. Today's method for finding guilt consists of an elaborate legal ritual, called trial, where witnesses come forward like actors in a play to give evidence. It is from this evidence that guilt of innocence is distilled. While the measure of punishment is typically left to the discretion of judges, the determination of guilt has been delegated to juries both by early English legislation and the American Constitution. It is thus one's own peers who must weigh the evidence and decide the probability of guilt--whether it has been proven beyond a reasonable doubt.
"Evidence is whatever courts consider proper and relevant for the weighing and determination of criminal guilt. Trial by fire--where guilt was proved by the accused's inability to put out the flames set by him, or by bitter waters, where the wife's infidelity was established by the swelling of her belly after drinking the testing concoction--were not uncommon until the Middle Ages. Trial by combat was another popular means for weighing evidence and determining guilt. Those not guilty were expected to prove their innocence through an armed victory over their accusers.
"Trials through witnesses go back to Biblical times. Yet one might assert that it was Europe's Age of Reason, with its emphasis upon communications and the rationality of man, which accounts for the emergence of the modern trial--where words rather than acts of faith take preeminence. In the courts of America proof is usually made today through either verbal testimony or demonstrative evidence. Most frequently, an eye witness will describe what he saw or heard. Occasionally, the murder weapon, including fingerprints, the forged paper, or the clothing of the suspect, may be introduced at the trial as demonstrative proof. Any one of these types of evidence may also be classified as either direct or circumstantial. Direct evidence means that the witness in fact saw the very fact he describes; circumstantial evidence relates only indirectly to the facts that need be proved. A witness who did not observe a burglary, yet who testifies to the accused's spending an unusual amount of money shortly thereafter, is offering circumstantial evidence."
We could quote further, but we think this is sufficient to establish the confused nature of the situation. Innocence or guilt is, obviously, not always a clear-cut and obviously defined decision. And the novel you are about to read, Diane's Lessons in Bondage by Warren Bisig, while highly successful on its own terms as an entertaining story, is an excellent illustration of this important point.
Diane, the novel's heroine, is obviously an innocent young girl. As the story opens, she finds herself face to face with a gang of armed thugs, who deliberately rob her uncle's jewelry store. To compound their guilt, they beat the uncle into insensibility, kidnap Diane, and immediately assault, rape, and torture her.
It seems perfectly obvious that they are guilty--and she is innocent. Yet is this completely true?
It would be a mistake for anyone to try to answer this crucial question before reading the entire story, weighing all the facts, and thinking seriously about his conclusions. The reader, while enjoying the book, should consider himself a member of a jury. There is a distinct possibility that Diane has deliberately provoked the situation in which she finds herself... or, at best, that she leads the hoodlums on into acts they would not have done otherwise. In the final analysis, how much of the guilt does she have to share?
It is up to you, the reader, to decide for yourself. And whatever your conclusions, we are sure you are in for a stimulating, thought-provoking experience.
The Publishers
Chapter One
"Scream 'n' I'll blow a big ugly hole in that nice fat tittie."
Diane, hazel eyes blinking disbelief, mouth agape, stared at the man wearing the nylon stocking over his head. He was tall, well-built, and the blue-steel gun in his hand looked to be a foot long.
"Don't try anything cute, Pops." The short man, the one wearing a red bandanna over the lower part of his face, used his gun to wave Uncle John behind the long display counter. His eyes, like nuggets of coal, darted from Uncle John to Diane. "On the floor, girlie," he barked.
Bug-eyed, Diane stared down the barrel of the second man's gun. This kind of thing happened only in movies, she thought. Yet there they were; broad daylight, her second week out of high school and the first week on the job in Uncle John's jewelry store. And it wasn't a joke. There was no humor in the eyes of the short, stocky man, and no eyes at all in the face beneath the nylon stocking.
"Down!" snapped the short man.
"Do like he says," directed Uncle John. Then to the man: "Take whatever you want, but don't hurt my niece. She's... she's only sixteen. A baby."
"How about that?" The short man, obviously the spokesman, glanced sharply to his cohort. "Hear what the man said, Skeet? A baby! Sixteen! Bet she's got some good hot cunt, too." Looking back to Diane, eyeing her long, white-blonde hair, he asked, "You got blonde hair on your pussy, too, girlie?"
Diane felt the blood rush into her face. Her belly tightened. "You... you... you're horrible!" she managed, feeling an invisible hand clamp over her vulva. She did, indeed, have white-blonde curls down there. But they were curls no man had seen: a prize she was saving for Mr. Right. She watched the short man smile, walk leisurely around the end of the display counter, shove past Uncle John and stop... the muzzle of the gun inches from her round belly. Her heart raced. Was he going to kill her, she wondered. She looked helplessly into the dark unblinking eyes above the bandanna.
"You got a fresh mouth, girlie." The man's hand snaked out and cracked loud against her cheek.
"Ow!" Diane staggered back. It was so unreal. And now, the sting of the slap spreading like fire through her face, she watched-as an observer watches a group of play actors-Uncle John spring at the man, saw the other man's gun reach across the counter and send her uncle, unconscious, to the floor.
"Get the registers, Skeet," growled the short man. Then to her: "Since you don't like the floor, girlie, get a bag 'n' collect the best ice or I'll put you to sleep like Pops here." He waved the formidable gun over Uncle John's crumpled form. "If yer a real good girlie," he added, leering, "I may even let you carry the stuff to the car."
It was a dream: a bad dream! she told herself. But the wind in her face was real. And the squealing of tires as the car swept through the outskirts of the city, tipping as they turned corners, headed toward the Palos Verdes Hills, was no mere nightmare. Ten minutes before it had been a casual, California spring day. Now?
She cringed between Skeet and the short man; whose name, she'd learned since stepping into the back seat of the getaway car, was Tony. She felt Tony's big hand high on her thigh... rough... kneading the tender flesh close to her pussy. Not breathing, lungs refusing to work, she watched the last of the city whiz by, saw the driver steer them into the green rolling hills, and knew, before the day ended, the lovely blonde wedge between her slim legs would be violated.
The small log cabin sat high on a tree-studded hill: a perfect hideout, she thought, as the car stopped in a cavelike space hacked out of the thick brush. The police would search and search. Her braless breasts ached. The thin mini-dress felt scratchy against her taut nipples. They'd search, perhaps call in the F.B.I., and never, not in a lifetime, think of looking here. She was frightened: more afraid than she'd ever been. These men-Tony and Skeet, and the other man, Sammy, the driver-could do what they chose with and to her. "L-let me g-go," she whispered. "Please."
Tony's laugh was cruel. "No way, girlie." The hand on her thigh shot up between her legs.
"Oh, don't. Dooon't!" Trying to hold her legs closed, she balled her small hands into fists and pounded his broad, muscular chest. But the fingers were strong. And as she struggled, as the driver and Skeet stepped from the car, Tony's hand cupped her pussy. She gasped. She twisted and tried to break free of the steel-like arm around her shoulders. The fingers dug in... forcing the white nylon panties up her tight slit. "OWWWWW! Oh, don't, please!"
Tony relented. The bandanna like a bib around his bull neck, dark face flushed, he removed his hand from her pussy and dragged her from the car. "This is it, baby," he said. Then to Skeet and Sammy: "You guys cover the car, brush over the tire tracks and camouflage the road in. Me 'n' Miss Girlie here got us a date in the back room."
Inside, the cabin was pleasant enough: two bedrooms at back, a wide front room with a fireplace, and a tiny kitchen off to one side. Under different circumstances, thought Diane, head spinning as Tony shoved her toward one of the bedrooms, she might even enjoy spending a few days here. But now, no longer any doubt in her mind concerning her fate, the place was hideous. She stumbled into the small, dimly lit bedroom, was flung onto the bed, and lay trembling. Terrified, she watched Tony close and lock the door and come toward her.
"I... I'll scream!" she threatened, coming off the bed and trying to dodge past him. "I'll yell so loud they'll hear me back in L.A."
"Holler yer fuckin' head off," taunted Tony.
Diane shrieked. She bellowed so loud she thought sure her lungs were going to burst from the effort. She screamed and backed into the night table, tipping the lamp, and watched her tormentor advance... maneuvering her into a corner... grinning as he trapped her at the head of the huge, feather bed.
Tony waited until she stopped screaming. Then his big calloused hand covered her left breast, and the hard thing, the cock which seemed to be a foot long, dug into her crotch. "You never answered my question, baby," he rumbled close to her face. "About your pussy, I mean. Whether it's blonde or black or what. Guess I'll just have to see for myself."
Again Diane shrieked. But it was useless, she knew. They were hidden away in the middle of nowhere, with only Skeet and Sammy to hear her cries. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as the hand on her breast slipped down, over her belly. "Oh, don't. DON'T. DON'T!" she sobbed.
"Don't what, girlie? Don't do this?" Tony's hand slipped beneath the hem of the mini. His fingers dug brutally into her hot pussy.
"OWWWWW!" She felt the nylon being shifted... felt the eager cigarlike finger burrowing between her tight cuntlips. She gripped his thick wrist. With tiny, inadequate hands, she fought to stop him. "Not that. No! Nooo! I... I'm v-v-virgin!"
Tony growled-a hungry bear. Hand working between the girl's soft, creamy thighs, he kissed her neck. With his free hand, he gripped the neck of the minidress... yanked! "A fuckin' cherry!" he choked. "A motherfuckin' pretty little blonde bitch like you. We'll take care of that, baby. Don't you worry. There won't be nothin' left cherry when I'm done."
Shaking, body rigid, Diane heard the dress rip. She felt the cool rush of air-woodsy air from the broken pane in the window beside the bed- on her naked breasts. She felt the hard thing stabbing in and out of her vulva, and the harder, longer, more awesome thing against her young thigh. Oh God! she thought. Someone! She was about to be raped. Her virgin pussy, the precious little hole she'd been saving to give to her husband on their wedding night, was about to be ravished: ripped open like the halves of the dress hanging on either side of her ripe, pink and white breasts.
The panties came next. Slipping his fingers from her moist cunthole, Tony took hold of the waistband. Again he yanked. Again the terrible sound of material being shredded tore through the room. "Holy sweet fuck. Lookit that pretty snatch," he croaked, staring as if mesmerized at the wedge of silky blonde curls atop and between the girl's lovely legs. "Jesus shit! You got a gold mine there, girlie. A fuckin' sunken treasure."
Diane held her eyes tightly shut and tried to think herself back in Uncle John's jewelry store. She was there, behind the display counter, before the armed thugs came in. But Uncle, too, she recalled, had developed a hard thing in his pantsleg. They'd been doing the inventory... she standing in the narrow aisle behind the counter... he rubbing against her each time he went from one end of the counter to the other. He'd made too many trips, it seemed. And she'd felt him, his cock, digging stiff into her soft ass each time he squeezed by. His thing had been almost as hard, almost as long, almost as awe-inspiring as the dick Tony now pressed to the mouth of her wedge.
Diane's eyes shot open. "Oh, nooo!" she wailed, suddenly aware that Tony had taken it out of his pants, and was trying-Oh, God! How he was trying!-to force the fat tip, the purple-red, fiery, nozzle-shaped glans up her pussy.
Whimpering, trying to fight him off, Diane clawed at his dark-almost brutishly handsome, she had to admit-face. Tony caught both her slim wrists in one huge hand. And, as if she were a rag doll, a thing to be used, swept her off her feet, one strong arm around her waist, and dropped her, like so many more feathers, onto the feather bed. On hands and knees, she tried to scramble away. He caught her ankle. She felt herself being dragged on her belly to the edge of the mattress. She felt her legs, her feet, drop to the floor. She felt the rough hand digging into her buttocks... spreading her cheeks, her thighs... opening her most secret parts to hungry eyes. She glanced back, gasped. He was undoing his pants... pushing the pants and shorts down his thick, hairy legs. And his dick, the big rigid thing standing straight out from a mass of black cockhair, was jerking and pulsing -anxious to be sheathed in her small round belly, she knew.
"Kinda dig it, huh?" Stepping out of the shorts and pants, clad only in a T-shirt, shoes, and socks, Tony took hold of his prick at the roots and shook the bloated monster at the terrified girl. "You'll like it even better once it's up you... in yer pussy. Almost a foot of hot meat, girlie. Enough to bust yer cherry three times over." He took hold of the hem of the minidress at her waist and tore the last shred of covering from the pink and white vulnerable body jack-knifed over the edge of the bed.
Fright had turned her legs to jelly. There was no resistance left when, after stripping the T-shirt off over his head, Tony fell heavily to his knees behind her. She felt his huge hands high on the insides of her thighs... spreading her open... making her front and rear hole more accessible. She sobbed, chewed her lower lip, and waited for the terrible pain of penetration. Yet despite her fear, her revulsion, there were butterflies batting excited wings in her belly. She'd often wondered what it was like. Fucking! A stiff hunk of man-meat sliding in and out of her wedge. But not in the back! she pleaded mentally. God! God! The front was tight, so tight. But she'd die if he tried to shove his big thing, his swipe-wasn't that what the boys at school had called it?-up her little backside.
"Hot as a fuckin' oven." Using two fingers on each hand, Tony opened the fat little lips of her cunt. He rocked from knee to knee, inching closer. "What's yer name, girlie? Tell me yer name."
"D-D-Diane."
"Yeah. Hold tight, Diane. Ole Tony's got somethin' big 'n' hard. Somethin' nice. Somethin' all the little girls like up in 'em."
"I'll do anything," cried Diane. "Anything else if you dooowwWWWWWW..."
It was too late. Tony was beyond hearing her entreaties, she knew. She twisted and gasped, clawed the bedspread, jerked her head from side to side, and felt the bulbous head of his dick pressing into her, opening the lips of her pussy. "Oh God, stoooooop! It... it's t-too b-b-big. You... you... OW, YOU'RE K-KILLING MEEEEEE!"
"Good. Good stuff. Jesus, it's tight. Um! Good fuckin' tight young stuff." Taking hold of her hips, Tony pulled back, until only the glans was embedded in her hot, white-blonde pussy and thrust.
Diane felt an excruciating stab of pain in her belly as the swollen head of his sex butted her maidenhead. She thrashed... trying to climb onto the bed... trying to escape the stiff thing boring relentlessly into her tiny love hole. She made incoherent noises; strange, strangled animal sounds, alien to her ears. The room spun. Multicolored rockets shot off in her head. Yet the awesome thing, Tony's long, thick dick, refused to relent. It pulled back again, thrusted, was repelled by the elasticlike barrier, and thrusted harder and harder and harder.
Then suddenly the fat pulsing meat was gone from her vulva. Was it over, she wondered. So soon? Had he done whatever men did: shot off without breaking the barrier, and without her being aware of the cream men were said to emit when they came?
"Get yer cunt up on the bed," directed Tony in a strained voice. "Gotta do this scientific... put a pillow under yer ass 'n' go in frontways." Without waiting for her to comply, he lifted her legs and threw her full length on the bed.
Diane bounced. Then she was on her back, and Tony, kneeling between her gaped open legs, was forcing a doubled-up pillow under her hips. She saw his magnificent-No! she thought. Not magnificent! Ugly!-cock jerking above her sweet little bush. It was wet. The purple-red tip glistened with clear fluid from her cunthole. And veiny. Veins all over the shaft: blue wiggly things beneath the loose jacket of skin that ended in a crewneck at the throbbing glans. Her cunt tightened. She couldn't tear her gaze from the long hard thing.
"Yeah. That should do it, baby." Tony bent, face close to her sex. "Now I can see yer soldier. What it needs is a little coaxin'. A tongue lick or two."
His hot breath made her shiver. She felt his lips at the tiny bud protruding from her hot cuntlips, and moaned. What was wrong with her, she wondered. She was being raped, forcefully taken, violated, ravished by a thug. Her tight virgin vulva still ached from the partial penetration of a moment before. Yet her body was reacting as it reacted when she necked... when she allowed special dates, extra nice boys, to pet her titties, or get atop her, in the back seat of a car, and ride and hump until the pleasure of coming contorted their faces. Her cherry was about to be taken by a brute! A criminal! she reminded herself. And yet... his stiffness held her attention, as if it were a big lollipop, and she was a hungry little girl anxious to suck him off. "No more," she made herself say. "No! No! No! No! NOOO!"
"Shuddup!" Again, as in the store, Tony's huge hand shot out and cracked loud against her face. "Fuckin' cunts're all alike. Wanna be persuaded? Okay!" He slapped her again. And back the other way. "Now open yer pussy, bitch. Raise her knees 'n' help me get it in."
Tears smarting in her eyes, throat tight, Diane obeyed. She raised her knees, spread her legs wide, chewed her lip and watched the thick cylinder of meat held tight in Tony's hairy hand. She watched him come down on her, watched him set the fat tip at the mouth of her pussy once more. Then she closed her eyes and tried not to think, not to feel. She clutched the bedspread. She listened to the sound of the breeze in the treetops outside... trying not to hear his labored breathing... trying to make herself an object apart from herself.
It was no use. She couldn't ignore it; couldn't not feel the hotness, the stiffness. She opened her eyes and watched breathlessly as the lengthy-so incredibly long-meat swipe inched up her pussy... parting the blonde curls... going in, in. She dropped her knees out sideways, opening her tight cunthole even more. Her body knew instinctively what to do. It reacted. She held tight to the bedspread, dug in with her feet, and watched until the pain ripped through her belly. Then she humped. Gritting her teeth, she thrusted her ass up off the pillow, using all the strength in her hips, and drew the fat throbbing dick through the thin membrane.
"Motherfucker!" gasped Tony.
"Don't hurt me," she whispered. "D-do it, but be gentle. It... it feels like a b-baseball bat in me.
"Shuddup 'n' fuck!" Tony reached for her breasts. His fingers dug cruelly into the succulent, tender young flesh.
"Ohhh! You... you're h-hurting me."
"You ain't seen nothin' yet, baby. Get yer ass workin' or else. Fuck that sweet blonde pussy aroun' some. Fuck it up into me. Fuck!"
Diane moaned as he took her nipples between thumb and forefinger and squeezed. Tentatively she moved her hips. Round and round. Up and down on his manhood. He was hurting her, wracking her trembling body with pain. Yet she lifted her ass off the pillow and fucked her white-blonde pussy, her tight cunthole, onto his cock. Her hands released their hold on the wrinkled bedspread... fluttering... reaching for his broad, muscular shoulders. No! she scolded herself. She mustn't let him know that aside from the pain there was something, something exquisite, something indescribably good happening inside her belly.
She closed her eyes, chewed her lip and clawed the bedspread. She fucked her cunt up at him. She felt his big dick begin to piston faster and faster, in and out, and thought, God! It was as if she'd waited all her life for this moment! As if nothing else mattered. As if her cunthole, her sweet little blonde pussy, was ablaze with a fire which never would go out. Never be quenched. As if her young, straining, newly awakened body would never again be whole without long, hard, brutally demanding man-meat inside it.
Chapter Two
She'd slept. Now she heard them, her kidnappers, in the next room... laughing, clicking glasses. She shivered. The sun was almost gone, and the breeze, coming through the broken pane in the window, was cooler, soothing. Escape! she thought. The woods!
But her body ached. The tiny hole between her bruised thighs felt as if someone had hammered a railroad spike up her belly. Her titties were sore. And her head felt as if there were a rock band inside, with fourteen electric guitars and too many drums.
"Leave 'er sleep awhile."
Quickly Diane closed her eyes and forced her body rigid, as Sammy, despite Tony's words, came to the bedroom door and peered in. "Man!" breathed Sammy. "That's some piece, boss. I can feel her heat from here."
Diane felt the man's hungry eyes on her body. She wanted to cover herself, to hide the burning flesh Tony had left behind. But she dared not move. She commanded her body to be still. Her limbs trembled. Oh God! she thought. Her body was going to give her away... make him know she wasn't asleep. And once they knew that, once Sammy and the others knew she was faking, they'd come in-perhaps all three at once -and she'd be forced to endure another horrible union. The thought made her tremble even more. Go away! she screamed mentally. Oh, please go away and leave me be!
As if having heard the girl's silent plea, Sammy said, "Guess you're right, boss. We'll leave 'er sleep for a while so she'll be nice 'n' sassy later. But, man! She sure is one fine piece of young pussy."
Breathless, unable to believe her good fortune, Diane squinted at the door. It was closing. Actually closing! Sammy was leaving the room and giving her the chance she needed to escape. She waited until the gruff laughter began anew. Then, moving cautiously, inch by inch, she gathered the shreds of clothing at the foot of the bed, covered herself, and moved silently to the small window.
"You hear something?" Tony set his glass down and glanced sharply toward the bedroom where the girl was supposed to be sleeping.
"Glass," replied Sammy.
Tony listened hard. The sound came again: the faint tinkle of shreds of glass falling to earth. The window! he thought, envisioning the broken pane in the next room. "Dumb bastard!" he roared, tipping the table and Sammy as he bolted from the chair. "What'd you close the goddamn door for?"
Tony stepped into the bedroom in time to see Diane's lovely leg disappear out the window. "Outside!" he called to Sammy. He hesitated a moment. Then, cursing his own stupidity for having left the girl alone, he followed her out into the deep green shadows of twilight. Again he hesitated, squinting into the near-darkness. He heard the rustling of bushes, the crunch of leaves underfoot. He crouched-the hunter stalking his prey-his cock growing hard in anticipation of what he would do once he got his hands on the lush little blonde with a cunt hotter and tighter than any he'd had before.
Heart racing, Diane found a pocket of brush and lay still. Oh, why hadn't she been more careful! she chastised herself. But she was so anxious to get out the window, to escape, she'd forgotten the broken pane, and now, the highway, freedom, a mere few hundred yards away, they were after her.
She hugged the ground, tried not to breathe, to make herself small. She could imagine herself being found and dragged by the hair back to the cabin. What would they do to her? she wondered. Beat her? She could almost feel Tony's thick belt whapping cruelly against her quivering buttocks. And her tight little pussy. What horrible thing would Tony and the others do to it next?
An involuntary sob escaped her throat. She burrowed deeper into the cool crinkly leaves covering the ground. Yet despite her fear, the revulsion she felt, the excited butterflies were back in her belly. She could almost feel the hard length of a swipe up her hole... rough hands kneading her breasts... a-muscular male body slamming furiously into her tender young flesh, making her moan and thrash, wanting more.
Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a shiny black leather boot stomped down on her hand. "I got 'er, boss," hollered Sammy. "Over here."
Whimpering, Diane pulled her hand free, leaped up and tried to flee. But she had gone no more than three feet when two steel claws closed about her slim waist. "No! Oh, nooo!" she cried, striking out blindly.
"A fuckin' wild one, you are. Man!" Sammy pulled the girl hard against him. He trapped her arms, pressed his stiffening member into the torn minidress covering her buttocks. "What you wanna go 'n' run for? Huh? Sammy ain't gonna hurt you. All he wants is-" his hand dropped to her crotch-"this!"
"I won't. I wooooooon't!" Diane fought. But the arms holding her were too strong. And the fingers digging into her pussy were too insistent. Each time she tried to pull away, the fingers crept deeper. Up her tight cunthole. Raking her sore little clit. And the thing poking into her ass was growing harder and longer... making her remember what it felt like to be taken.
"You let me go or..." she began as the bushes before her parted, and Tony, redfaced and breathless from the chase, appeared in the fading light. He laughed; a deep, totally masculine sound. Diane felt goosebumps break out on her skin. But she grew suddenly calm. His balls! she thought. She'd wait for him to step forward, and, as she'd done to the boy at school, the one who had tried to molest her on graduation night, she'd kick him so hard he'd double up and cry. She watched for her chance... recalling how the boy at school enticed her into the corridor, where it was dark, began kissing and pawing her, and, when she didn't resist- happy because it was prom night, and wanting, despite herself, to be felt-had dug fingers into her pussy, as Sammy was doing, and refused to stop when she became frightened and asked him to.
Finally Tony stepped forward. "What she needs," he told Sammy, "is something to tire 'er out. Guess I was too gentle with 'er before."
Diane kicked. But Tony sidestepped and the toe of her high heel merely grazed his dungarees. He caught her ankle, lifted until pain knifed through her thigh. Now she wished she'd worn the shredded panties. For with her foot high, Sammy's arms about her waist supporting her weight, Tony could see her bare pussy, she knew. And the hungry look in his eyes told her he had no intention of waiting the few minutes it would take to drag her back to the cabin.
Lifting her leg even higher so that the other foot was forced off the ground, Tony caught Diane's other ankle and stood between the girl's trembling, gaped-open thighs. "How about it, Sammy? Think she can take both of us at the same time?"
"She'll take it 'n' like it, boss. I got a yen for 'er asshole, anyway."
Oh God! thought Diane, too horrified to speak. They were determined to kill her. They were going to use her young body until they grew tired of it, then toss her worthless carcass into a dark pit somewhere. But there was a more immediate danger. And for now she was more concerned with the dark little pit between her legs. For, as she watched, Tony stepped closer and began to grind the crotch of his coarse dungarees into her exposed sex. She felt the rough material bruising her cuntlips. "Please," she whispered, tightening her belly, wiggling back into the hardness poking the virgin crack of her ass.
Abruptly Tony released her ankles. For a moment Diane thought he was going to relent. Until he undid his fly and told Sammy, "You better get planted first."
"Maybe we better lay 'er down?" suggested Sammy.
"Fuck that!" Tony freed his long, stiff swipe, held it at the roots, and rubbed the swollen tip in the girl's white-blonde pussy hair. He reached for the neck of the dress Diane had managed to hold together with bobby pins. One swift yank parted the material.
Diane felt the night air on her breasts and belly. It was almost dark now. She saw Tony's brutally handsome face as a blur. She welcomed the night. She didn't want Tony to see her chewing her lip... trying to hide what the smooth prick at her cunthole was doing to her insides. The soreness was suddenly gone. In its place was a burning emptiness... a need, a desire. She fought the feeling. But it was no use. Her mind believed one thing, and her body, the hot little gateway into her belly, demanded another. "I'll kill you," she hissed, not wanting to give in. "I... I'll wait 'til you're asleep and... and... and cut it off!"
Tony laughed. His hand closed tight on her left breast. His fingers twisted. "You're as hot as a firecracker," he growled. "Admit it, baby... you dig a big cock in you. Yer fuckin' nipples're standing up like tin soldiers."
"You...!" Again Diane tried to kick him. But now he was standing too close and her thigh merely slid up the outside of his pantsleg. Almost as if she'd planned it that way: as if her leg were reaching to snake around his waist, making her wet cunt more accessible. "Let-me-GO!" she yelled.
"Bend 'er over," said Tony. "Get yer dick in 'er ass so's I can get some too."
"You bet!" breathed Sammy.
Diane felt the hand high on her back; felt herself being bent forward and the shredded dress being lifted off her plump buttocks. She tried to straighten up. But Tony grabbed a handful of her hair, held her head down, and rubbed his stiff swipe in her face. Then she felt the hot tip of the dick at her asshole. Her head reeled. Her heart became a pneumatic drill. The hands on her hips held her trapped, and the stiff thing, Sammy's meat dagger, began to cut its way past the silky tightness of her sphincters.
"Man! Manoman!" grunted Sammy... pushing... pushing. His cock seemed too big for the tiny brown hole. He gripped tighter, digging his fingers, his nails, into the soft white hips trying to inch away from his rod. He pulled back and thrusted. The head of his dick disappeared into the lovely tightness. "Oh, man! AHHH!"
The pain made Diane gasp. It felt as if someone were driving a giant redwood up her quivering behind. It went in, in. There seemed to be miles of it. And it seemed to take a lifetime to grind its way into the hot depths of her rectum. She twisted and strained... trying to open wider... to ease the friction of penetration. She began to pump back into his forward drives... making herself slippery back there... helping him enter. She stopped thinking, allowed her body to guide her. Her hips knew instinctively what to do to make the terrible thing less painful. Or was it something else her hips sought, she wondered. Something hot and sticky and liquid. Something she had experienced for the first time when Tony raped her.
With one mighty lunge, Sammy embedded the last inches of stiff dick in the girl's nipping rectum. "Oh, man, boss," he sighed. "You sure knew what you was doin' when we snatched this one. Chrissakes! She... ahhh! AH! She's even tighter back here than Greta."
"Nobody's tighter 'n Greta," said Tony.
"This one is. Man! Skeet's kid sister is good, boss. But this one's even better."
Tony scowled. "Greta'd scratch yer eyes out she heard you say that. But we'll compare when Skeet gets here. Right now-" he released Diane's hair, lifted her face until she stood straight-"I gotta get my joint up this one's hole or blast cum all over the forest."
Diane hardly heard the exchange. Her ears were ringing. She felt the manmeat in her rectum expand as the cheeks of her ass closed tight. "Owwwww!" she moaned, unable to decide whether it was pain or pleasure she was experiencing. But there was little time to consider. For now Tony was setting the knob of his weapon at the swollen mouth of her vulva. And as the dick in her ass retreated, beginning to piston, the cock at her pussy began to bore home.
"It... it w-won't w-work this w-w-way," sobbed Diane.
"It'll work, girlie." Tony dug his fingers into the soft flesh at the back of her thighs... below where Sammy's hands gripped her hips.
"Fuck it up her, boss," routed Sammy.
"It's too tight standing up," blurted Diane, feeling the pole up her behind grate in to the hilt, while the one in front-longer, harder, and more awesome, it seemed-began to penetrate. She balled her hands into fists and pounded inadequately at the broad chest of the brute forcefully taking her for the second time in as many hours.
Tony grunted and drove half the length of his prick up her forebelly. "That's it, baby," he breathed into her face. "Fight! I like it better when you struggle. Makes it harder gettin' in 'n' better when I get there."
Diane whimpered. She squatted and drew the long veiny thing in all the way. It was the only thing to do, she told herself. If she resisted, tried to ward him off, he'd beat her, she knew, and have his own way in the end. But there was something inside her which continued to protest. Something which made her open one fist, and, as the last of the second big dick slipped into her body, drag her fingernails down the side of Tony's face.
A giant hand closed tight around her throat. "Wanna play, huh?" barked Tony. "See how you like this!" He squeezed-cutting off her air. The long dick in her tight little pussy pulled back, paused for a moment, then slammed what seemed to be three feet of thick throbbing steel up her pulsating vagina.
The treetops began to spin round and round in a Technicolor sky. And there were stars overhead. But that was impossible! Diane reasoned. It was too early for stars, and rainbows appeared only after storms. She felt herself sinking, blacking out. Then the hand was gone from her throat, slapping her face, pulling her back to the forest, and the two men, Tony and Sammy, and what they were doing to her trembling young body.
"Now fuck!" commanded Tony.
"Yeah! Move your pretty ass some or-" Sammy yanked hard on her hair.
Gulping air into her lungs, Diane complied. She wiggled her hips: tentatively at first, then faster-round and round like the Technicolor sky-as the sensations began to electrify her tiny hole. Her hands crept up Tony's chest, to his shoulders. Her breathing quickened, grew ragged. She closed her eyes, let her face fall forward, and began fucking herself-both hot wet holes-back and forth on the seesaw of hard meat butting heads within her two dripping channels.
"Jeez! Lookit her go!" Sammy released her hips. His hands glided up her rib cage, to her breasts. His fingers found the taut nipples. He placed his lips to her ear, nibbled the lobe. "Do it, honey," he whispered. "Keep that pretty ass workin' 'n' Sammy'll give you the best cumload ever."
Panting, unable to control herself now, Diane sawed her pelvis forward and back, off one cock and onto the other, back again. Her pussy, the curly blonde wedge everyone seemed to adore, was sopping wet and alive with exquisite sensations she'd never imagined existed. Her clitoris felt huge. And each time Tony pulled back, dragging the shaft of his swipe over the tiny pink button, pinwheels went off in her head. There was a flame in her belly somewhere between front and rear hole. And each time one or the other dick plowed, gliding smoothly now, meeting no resistance, more fuel was added.
She moaned and strained... milking the pricks... wanting more than anything to feel the hot liquid blast that would quench the fire. She wanted to raise her legs, to wrap her young thighs about Tony's waist, and fuck herself onto him that way. But that wouldn't do! she hastily reminded herself. She mustn't allow them-not Tony, not Sammy, not anyone-to see what she felt: mustn't acknowledge the wanton thing driving her hips, making her fiery cunthole contract and loosen, making her breath come in gasps, and making her forget where they were- rutting like animals in the damp woods-and that she was a prisoner, being forcefully taken by two armed thugs, who may, for all she knew, have killed Uncle John.
But she fucked. She threw her lower body wildly about, pressed herself into the rough hands squeezing her tender titties. She felt Tony's hands creep around to the plump cheeks of her ass, cup and knead the jiggly flesh while Sammy pistoned his stiff rod in and out of the hot little brown hole low in the crack between the sweet melons. She had always liked her cute bottom. It was round and soft, deep-clefted, and, when she wore tight slacks or shorts or a bathing suit, every male eye she passed devoured the natural swish of its perfect contours. But she had never before imagined the thrill center hidden within the twin velvet half moons she'd always thought of as merely a cushion to sit on and a means of locomotion.
Sammy hissed air through his teeth. His fingers became claws digging into her breasts. He pulled back until all but the fat tip of his joint was outside her body, then rammed and held himself buried... grinding his cockhair against the pinched crack up her bottom.
"Oh! OH, NOOOOOO!" Diane couldn't help herself. She felt the pulsing deep in her rectum -the same delicious feeling she'd experienced when Tony emptied his sacs into her earlier- and didn't want it to end.
"Ah! Ah, motherfucker!" gasped Sammy, grinding so hard he left hair burns on her soft bottom.
Diane squealed. Because now Tony was popping off, too, filling her cunt with warm cream which was thicker and seemed to spurt from the glans of his cock with more force than the stuff oozing off in her rectum. And there was something breathless happening inside her. It began at the little pink button within her wet vulva, spread to her spine, and rocketed into her brain. It seeped down her thighs, to her knees, where the thrill turned to jelly.
Unable to stand, she squatted and let the two spitting swipes keep her from crumpling to the forest floor. She was coming, she knew. Orgasm! Her first! She'd read about it, heard about it from girls she knew who'd been fucking since hair first sprouted on their love mounds. But never, not in her wildest, giddy dreams, nor in the stories she'd heard, had she expected it to be so overwhelmingly, incredibly, intoxicatingly good.
"You brutes!" she cried... struggling once more... twisting and lashing out... determined to conceal from her captors what was happening to her.
Tony cuffed her, once, twice, three times. "Fucking cunt bitch. Hold still 'til I finish!"
"Finish? Finish shit!" said Sammy. "I'm just gettin' started, boss. I got at least one, maybe more nuts ready to plant in this end."
Sobbing-partially from the stinging blows to her face, but mostly because she didn't understand what was happening to her-Diane submitted meekly to the four rough hands exploring every inch of her body. The two pricks deep in belly were only slightly less full since popping off. And as Tony and Sammy took turns feeling the plump halves of her ass, her tits, the damp white-blonde curls low on her belly, she felt the poles growing thick and anxious once more. She felt them begin to throb gently. She felt her pussy and asshole-as if possessing a mind of their own-begin to breathe and make ready for the pummeling to come.
Oh God! she thought. Make them hurry!
Chapter Three
Greta appeared to have been screwed by an army. Tony studied her. The girl's long black hair was a mass of knots and tangles, her blouse wrinkled, and the tight white shorts she wore-too tight to allow her to breathe, it seemed-were stained yellow at the crotch. Tony shifted in his seat; his cock, slightly raw from too much fucking, beginning to swell. Despite the "just got out of bed" appearance, or perhaps because of it, Skeet's thirteen-year-old sister was a luscious, seductive minx.
"Lose something?" Hands on hips, bare feet wide apart and shorts dipping snugly into her cuntlips, Greta stared defiantly back at him.
"What'd you lose on the way up here?" countered Tony.
"She ain't lost nothin' new," supplied Skeet. "A little face 'n' some ass. Nothin' she ain't give me almost before she could walk."
Tony watched the brother and sister exchange affectionate smiles. He couldn't blame Skeet. He supposed if he had a kid sister like Greta, who whipped it out of your pants and put it in if you were too slow, he'd be plowing the doll, too. But Skeet, he knew, had a special thing about screwing his relatives. Because aside from Greta, there were half a dozen cousins, an aunt or two and a niece he was plowing regularly. "She's asleep," announced Sammy, stepping into the room from the bedroom.
Tony scowled. "She was asleep before, too."
Sammy grinned. "She won't be goin' nowhere this time, boss. Take a look."
Skeet and Greta followed Tony to the open bedroom door. A small lamp beside the bed bathed Diane in diffused light. The girl lay on her back, the torn dress, haphazardly repaired, doing little to hide her lush charms. Her legs were spread. At the foot of the bed, a heavy rope, tied around her right ankle, secured her to the bedpost.
Diane stirred in her sleep. A bell tinkled. Tony's eyebrows shot up.
"That's in case she decides to play with the rope," explained Sammy. He moved to the foot of the bed, lifted the tether, and shook the small bell that had once been attached to a warning device above the entrance door to the cabin. "She won't be runnin' no more," he added, grinning and shaking the bell until Diane bolted upright.
Tony felt a twinge of compassion. There were tears in the blonde's hazel eyes. Trembling, she clutched the tattered dress to her breasts and stared at them as a child stares accusingly at an irate parent.
"Has she eaten?" asked Greta.
Sammy snapped his fingers. "How about that. Knew there was somethin' I forgot," he said sarcastically. "But she can wait 'til morning. She's one of the fat cats. Do 'er good to see what it feels like to go hungry."
"Feed 'er!" snapped Tony.
Sammy jumped. "Sure, boss. Sure. Only..."
Tony turned and left the bedroom before Sammy could finish. He was getting soft! he told himself. And that was dangerous. Not only wouldn't it do for Skeet and Sammy to see a sign of weakness, but once you got soft with a chick, he reasoned, once you showed her you cared and stopped being the boss, she became the master. And that had happened to him too many times before.
Diane was stiff all over. It was morning. She could tell by the warmth of the light coming through the cracks in the boarded-up window. She didn't want to open her eyes. Because once she did that, once she left the security of sleep, they'd be there-the three men and the girl- and the ripping and pawing, the violation of her body, would begin all over again. But she had to pee. She had to go so bad her pussy burned with the need. And if she didn't open her eyes, ask someone where the bathroom was, she'd wet the bed, she knew. Then they'd laugh and add a new shame to what she was feeling.
Abruptly she opened her eyes. She blinked. The room was deserted. Were they asleep? she wondered. Exhausted from having spent themselves on her body? Again she thought of escape. But then she felt the rope on her ankle, the thing she'd forgotten; moved and inadvertently rang the small bell. She cowered at the head of the bed as the door flew open, and the tall one, Skeet, glowered in at her. "I... I have to go to the bathroom," she managed in a small voice.
Silently Skeet moved into the room. He sat on the edge of the bed. Diane watched his gaze move hotly up her legs, to her crotch. Quickly she covered herself. Her cunthole began to throb like an abscessed tooth. "I have to go!" she insisted.
"Keep your panties on," said Skeet.
"I don't have any panties to keep on. Thanks to your friends." Immediately Diane regretted having voiced the retort. It seemed she said all the wrong things. Now the man's gaze was riveted to the dip where the torn mini lay between her creamy young thighs. She saw him grin, felt his calloused hand on her leg, and bleated, "No, don't!"
"A good hot pussy is one that has to pee," said Skeet, hand moving up the inside of her thigh.
Diane closed her legs tight. But the hand forced its way between. "C'mon. Please!" she offered. "I... I can't hold it much longer."
"It won't take long, baby." Skeet untied the rope tether, freeing her legs.
"Oh...!" Diane rolled onto her side... another mistake, she realized. The movement shifted the loosely basted dress, and now, Skeet's fingers seeking her cuntlips, her bottom was exposed to his view. She tried to twist back. But Skeet cupped her soft buttocks, fingers probing the hot crack, and two long thin darts began to pry open her holes.
Furious with herself for thinking she could reason with the brute and outraged anew by the degradation of being used at the whim of her captors, she began to fight. She clawed and kicked, used her elbows, knees, teeth, and butted with her head. When Skeet merely laughed, pinning her to the bedding with the weight of his body, proving how inadequate, how defenseless she was, she struggled even harder... ignoring the pain caused by the fingers digging brutally into the heated pockets between her bruised thighs. The pain spurred her on, made her wild. Until Skeet threw the dress off her shoulders, baring her breasts, and clamped his teeth down hard on one tender pink nipple.
Diane gasped... trying to wrestle his sweating face away from her body. But the teeth held fast. It felt as if her nipple was being chewed off. She stopped struggling, whimpered and submitted to his desires.
"That's better," growled Skeet. His hand coaxed her legs apart. He flattened his hand on her pussy and rubbed round and round. His middle finger found and began fucking itself in and out of her wet pink slit.
Now Diane gasped for another reason. Skeet had found her clitoris and was teasing, moving his fingertip back and forth over the hard little peg. She forgot about having to pee. She forgot the teethmarks and the trickle of blood at her nipple. She tried to pretend, but that, too, was gone. Now she wanted only to feel the stiffness of a big swipe up her cunthole... stoking in and out... faster and faster... throbbing and spitting hot cream... filling her with the delicious electric sensation of orgasm.
Skeet must have recognized her desire. He released her, stood, and, a knowing look on his face, began to strip. Diane watched. She couldn't help herself. Her gaze refused to be torn away from his crotch. Breathing as if her lungs were about to burst, unable to do more than lay there and stare hungrily-legs wide apart and cunt burning-she watched the pants and shorts fall, saw his hard dick spring away from a mass of curly black cockhair, and sobbed as if she were a bride, Skeet the groom, and this was their wedding night.
"Take off them fucking rags," said Skeet. Diane hesitated only a moment. Then, as if in a trance, she sat up on the bed, undid what was left of the minidress, threw it off, and fell nude onto the pillows. She looked from Skeet's long, bright red hard-on, to the little blonde triangle atop and between her young thighs. It felt swollen. And the entrance, too low for her to see, seemed to be sucking air. She had to restrain her hand, her fingers, from dipping into the gap. It was wrong! she told herself over and over. Perverse! So unlike her! But in the past twenty-four hours, since Tony and the others had entered her life and brought her to the cabin in the middle of nowhere, she'd experienced things, feelings, she couldn't explain. Her physical senses seemed to be an entity apart from her mind. And now, eyes glued to Skeet's bloated manhood, belly tight and thighs tensing in anticipation, her mind said no but her body refused to obey.
Kneeling beside her on the bed, stiff prick dancing within inches of her face, Skeet ran his hands leisurely over her soft skin. "You're like silk," he told her. "Hot silk."
Diane began to squirm; anxious to have him take her, to ram his manmeat up her pulsing pussy, but unwilling to say what she felt. She felt his hand on her belly. Her hips jerked up off the bedding. She gasped as the long middle finger returned to her cunthole.
"Play with my rod." Skeet inched closer, bringing the fat tip of his sex directly over her face.
"No." Diane whispered.
"Touch it," coaxed Skeet. "Feel how hard it is. All for you, baby. Show me how much you like it before we put it up here." He slipped another rough finger into her sopping wet slit. And another.
"Owwwwww!" Diane wiggled her hips against the wedge spreading the lips of her vulva. Her hand fluttered up off the sheet. His swipe was so big! Fatter around than Tony's and Sammy's together, it seemed. It would never fit in the tiny cave between her quivering thighs, she was certain. But she wanted it there. She didn't care if he tore her apart as long as she could feel another dick shooting before she died. Her need was desperate.
Skeet grabbed her slim wrists, guided her uncertain hand to his stiffness, and closed her small fingers tight around the powerful shaft. "Kiss it!" he grunted. "Gimme a blowjob. Put it in your mouth 'n' suck me off."
Diane recoiled. The heat of a moment before was gone. She had been speculating on the size of the filthy thing in relation to her pussy. But her mouth? Never! She could almost feel the awesome member filling her throat, choking her. "I won't do it!" she wailed. "You... you can't make me put that awful big thing in my mouth."
"Can't I?" Skeet laughed.
Before she could move or protest further, Skeet had withdrawn his fingers from her love hole, straddled her upper body, and Diane was staring at the throbbing glans of his cock. The acrid smell of sweat from his balls filled her nostrils. Horrified, she watched him steer the terrible thing to her lips. "Oh, no. No! No! No! No! NOOOOOOOO!"
Sitting heavily upon her chest, laughing, Skeet squeezed her neck. Diane opened her mouth. "That's it, baby. Pretend it's a lollipop," said Skeet. "You'll dig it real good once you get started. I had to persuade Greta some, too. Now she'd as soon go down on a joint as shake your hand."
Her head was reeling again. Greta! Who was Greta, she wondered. She remembered seeing a girl the night before. And she recalled Tony and Sammy discussing Skeet's sister. God! she thought. Did he actually do this horrible thing to his sister? And if the black-haired girl was his sister-the girl with a mouth no bigger than the mouth on a doll-was she actually capable of taking the entire length of his tool into her.
Skeet's persistent swipe made her gag. Where a moment before she'd been willing to give in, to have him take her in the normal way, she now was filled with loathing. The head of his rod was pushing in past her teeth, onto her tongue, and she couldn't close her mouth because the hand at her throat was making it almost impossible to breathe. She felt his big wrinkled sacs on her breasts, smelled the stink of his asshole, and knew she would pass out, perhaps never again to come to, if he tried to force the hot hard monster any further into her face.
"Just a little suck," groaned Skeet, inching his tense buttocks closer to her chin, "'til I'm ready to come. Then I'll give you a fucking, baby. I'll give you a screwin' like you ain't never had."
Diane remained unplacated. She squirmed, pressing her head back into the soft pillow until she lay almost flat. But the dick in her mouth continued to advance. Wide-eyed, terrified, she watched half the length disappear slowly into her face, felt it humping its way toward her gullet, unmindful of her struggles. "Don' may meee!" she gurgled. "Anything! P'ease! Anything but 'hisss!"
Skeet paused for a moment to look sharply about. His eyes narrowed. Dick throbbing in its sheath, he grabbed the pillow from the other side of the bed, doubled it, and shoved it under her head. Then he cupped her raised face in his hands, pulled back, and drove the last hard inches of thick prick into the wet warmth of her mouth. "Ahhhhhh!"
Diane gagged as the glans butted her tonsils. But now that he was firmly planted, now that there was no chance of her spitting him out, Skeet removed his hands from her flushed face, reached behind, and began to fingerfuck her pussy more rapidly than before.
"Oh! OHHHH!" Diane's hips began to gyrate. The unruly little pink guard at the inner gateway to her belly stood hard and tall. The electric sensations began to flood her body... making the thing slipping smoothly in and out of her mouth less dreadful. Then she stopped caring, threw her knees wide, opening her cunt for the fingers, clutching Skeet's balls, and sucked on the knob of his cock, as if... as if it were a lollipop! she decided. As if it were one of the sweet, all-day cherry suckers she'd loved as a little girl.
It lasted only a moment. "That's it!" breathed Skeet. "I'll... ahhh! Urn! I'll blow off in your face if we go any more."
Reluctantly, Diane allowed him to pull back. His swipe popped loudly from her face. She sobbed. "Do it," she heard herself say. "P-put it in me. Up m-my p-p-pussy."
Skeet needed no direction. Before the words were out of her mouth, he was positioned between her gaped open, lovely young thighs... long wet dick bobbing toward her pink cunt-hole. Slowly he let himself down. The tip of his rod butted her crotch... seeking... sniffing the enticing entrance.
"Hummmmmm!" Diane felt it: so close but missing the mark. Impulsively she reached down between their bodies, wrapped trembling fingers about the pulsing shaft, and guided the fiery glans to her vulva. "Fuck it up!" she breathed hotly into his face. "All the way in me!"
Skeet groaned. He seemed somehow different, thought Diane. She blinked. He wasn't much older than her, she suddenly realized. And now, the hardness gone from his features, mouth open, eyes glazed, he wasn't near as repulsive. She held his big prick, lifted her buttocks, and marveled at the way he trembled as the stiffness slipped into her pussy. She looked from his face, down their bodies, to her little blonde wedge. What an incredible thing it was! Not only did it possess the ultimate in pleasure for her, but hidden within the pink folds, in her round belly, was the power to change a gruff, tough character like Skeet into a trembling, willing tool.
Diane gasped and threw her hips high-taking the last of his swipe into her sheath. "Oh God! God! God!"
"You're good, baby," rasped Skeet. "Jesus! Your cunt's hotter than a fuckin' .38 slug."
Suddenly Diane glanced toward the boarded-up window. There now was new hope of escape- high up in her tight vagina where the head of Skeet's meat was embedded. It was dreadful of her, she knew. But perhaps she could fuck her way free. Perhaps she could use the hot hairy pockets between her quivering thighs to make Skeet, or Sammy, or Tony, one of them, take her back to Uncle John. She allowed her body to take over. She threw her legs high, onto Skeet's back, locked her ankles. She wrapped her arms about his broad shoulders. "Fuck me good," she whispered, humping with all her might up onto his rod. "Oh, do it. Do it!"
Skeet's hands gripped her buttocks. He began to rut... pulling back until his joint almost slipped from her cuntlips, then driving.
Escape! Diane thought, fucking her hips off the bedding. The trouble was... now, with a big stiff dick swabbing her pussy, raking her clit, causing the tingly sensations, she didn't care if she never got away. She didn't care about poor, sweet Uncle John, who had been a father to her since her own parents died. She didn't care about anything except the hot come inching up from Skeet's hairy sacs, and what it would do to her insides when he came.
"Fuck me," she sighed. "Oh, fuck me good!"
Nor did Skeet seem to mind being a tool.
Afterward, after they had come in unison and Skeet had allowed her to pee, they lay together in bed, side by side, basking in the warm afterglow of orgasm. Diane was content to lie there forever. Calm. Sated. But it wasn't to be. For as Skeet was pressing the fat knob of his prick into her tight cuntlips, ready to lift her to the bright lights once more, the door opened, and the black-haired girl, the one she'd seen the night before, stepped into the room.
"You lousy fuck!" Greta shrieked.
Suddenly Diane was snatched back from the world of calm. Mouth hanging open, she watched the tiny dark girl rush at them. She threw up her hands. Too late! A fist no bigger than a pink ball connected with the bony ridge beneath her left eye.
Grabbing both the girl's slender wrists in one huge hand, Skeet dragged her down, across Diane's body and onto the bed between them. "Knock it off!" he barked.
Greta bit his shoulder. Her sharp little teeth sank in, held. "You're mine!" she hissed.
Skeet slapped his sister so hard Diane winced from the blow. Was this actually happening, she wondered. It was as if she'd been torn from reality the day before, and bounced down, deposited in some black pit. She felt her cheek swelling where Greta had punched her; felt her hot little cunthole dripping thick juice, and watched the two tussle until Skeet pinned the girl. She saw the fat tip of his swipe poke up the legband of Greta's white shorts, saw the girl go rigid and grit her teeth as the dickhead found her pussy.
"This what you want?" growled Skeet, tearing at her blouse, baring miniature, big-nippled tits, and greedily sucking one taut pink peak into his mouth.
"Mother!" choked Greta.
Skeet humped until half the length of his rod was buried in the tiny young girl. The shorts stopped him from going further, Diane could see. Her own cunt began to pulse. She lay close beside them, eyes wide, one hand gingerly testing the bruise caused by Greta.
A sudden change came over the black-haired girl. Where before she had struggled to hurt, she now thrashed as Diane had gyrated moments before. Moaning, making small, wild animal noises deep in her throat, she threw her legs wide... shifting the legband of the shorts and drawing her brother's stiff member all the way up her black pussy.
Mesmerized, suspended between fear and fascination, Diane watched them fuck. They seemed unaware of her. Until she tried to rise from the bed. Then Skeet's hand slapped down hard on her belly, making her yell. Rough fingers stole through the white-blonde curls crowning her sex, down, down to the wet slit between her full thighs. Then she too was fucking, gripping Skeet's thick wrist in both hands, and grinding her cunt onto the fingers as she watched and listened to the brother and sister make love.
Incest! thought Diane... remembering how Uncle John had always found some excuse to rub against her in the store, and, at home, how he always seemed to linger at her bedroom door after saying good night. Now she envisioned the hard thing in his pantsleg. Had she known what pleasure it held, she decided, perhaps she and Uncle John, at that very moment, would be off somewhere committing the cardinal sin.
But that was dopey! she told herself, feeling the wonderful thrill of orgasm approaching. Nothing so good could be sinful. She only regretted having waited this long to find out how delicious it was to have a man-any man, she supposed, but some more than others-stick a long dick up her pussy, her asshole, in her mouth.
"Ow! Owww, Skeeeeeeet!" cried Greta, coming.
Skeet tore the shorts trying to get his hand beneath and onto the bucking girl's small bottom. "Tighten up, Sis. You know how. Put that juice-hole in gear. That's it! That's... ah! Ahhh! That's fucking the way fucking should be. Go, baby. GO!"
Sobbing, unable to breathe, Diane fucked her little blonde triangle onto Skeet's fingers, and thought, if only she'd known! It only she could turn the clock back, to the day at the store, and, knowing what she now knew, have poor, sweet Uncle John, who was not even forty and built like a grizzly and handsome, rub his stiff swipe into the crack of her ass once more.
Chapter Four
Three days later, as dawn was breaking over the Palos Verdes Hills, Tony and Sammy and Skeet and Greta were taken into custody by state police and federal agents who had surrounded the cabin during the night. Blinking, sporting a black eye with green and purple fringes and multiple welts and bruises, wearing loose-fitting jeans and an enormous plaid shirt, Diane was led out of the place.
At the drive, a trooper on either side of her, she paused for a last look at Tony. He grinned at her from behind the wire mesh and glass in the back of a station wagon. Goosebumps broke out all over her body. She knew that grin! It was the way Tony had looked at her each time he lashed out. But despite what he and the others had done to her, despite the dull ache at the pit of her belly and the stiffness of limb, she was sorry to see them caged. It was over! she thought. She'd never again see their faces! But the thought held no joy, no satisfaction. For there were other things they'd done to her, things she didn't yet fully understand. Things..."
"Your uncle's waiting for you," said the trooper in charge. He held the patrol car door open for her.
Hastily Diane stepped into the car waiting to take her back to L.A. Things she could tell no one, she thought... except, maybe, Uncle John.
It was as if she were seeing her uncle for the first time. There were things about him she'd never noticed before... the way he tried not to look at her jutting breasts... the way he stood with hips slightly back when he took her in his powerful arms, kissed the top of her head, and said, "I was crazy thinking I'd never see you again."
"I missed you too," whispered Diane, pressing closer, wanting to feel the stiffness rise. His cock was a limp length of hose in his pantsleg. But it was longer than she remembered, longer limp than Skeet's prick was when hard, it seemed. "I thought about you a lot," she added. "When... when those horrible creatures were d-doing all t-t-those terrible things to me." She pressed closer still. She'd pretend to be his little girl, she decided.
Hurriedly Uncle John pushed her away. "You need rest," he said gruffly. He tried to grin. He looked from her face, to the copy of the police report she'd signed, the account of the four-day ordeal. He cleared his throat and brushed hair back from the bandage at the back of his head. "We'll talk later. If you want to. If..."
"I'd like to clean up," interrupted Diane, feeling the now familiar pulsing in her cunt-hole. What would Uncle John do if she came right out and said what she wanted, she wondered. Beat her? Wallop her buttocks-as he'd done when she was little and naughty, and before he'd discovered the first hint of gold between her young legs? The thought made her tremble. "You... you can read about it while I take a bath," she said, pointing to the official papers he held. "Then we'll talk. I need someone, Uncle John. If you only knew how much." She stood on tiptoe and lightly kissed his lips before hurrying off to the bathroom.
By the time John had finished reading the police report, his dick was hard. He could imagine his niece, the sweet little blonde he'd wanted to rape himself more times than he could remember, tied to a bed in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Vulnerable. There to be used whenever her captors had what he now had in his pants-leg. He gripped his stiff cock, closed his eyes, and envisioned the girl naked. But she was his niece! he told himself. His dead brother's only child! And although he wanted her still, more now than ever before, he tried to stifle the vision of himself climbing between her full, tender young thighs.
"Aren't you going to the store today?" called Diane from the bathroom.
"Huh? What'd you say, honey?" His prick was so hard, and the running water so loud, he barely heard her. The girl called again, a small, muffled voice. No! he wouldn't touch her, he decided, rising from the sofa. But it wouldn't hurt anyone if he looked and dreamed about what others had done to her lovely young body.
Diane sat in the tub, the water level at the pink tips of her breasts. She smiled as he pushed the door all the way open, and stood, the crotch of his pants bulging, staring. He saw her gaze drop from his face to his manhood. Christ! he thought. She seemed to be egging him on. He stepped into the steam-filled bathroom and moved to the tub.
"See what they did to me?" Diane bent forward, displaying the red welts down her back.
"My God!" breathed John. He could see the welts and bruises, true. But beneath the water, as if he were looking at her reflection in a fuzzy mirror, he could also see the crack in her round white ass. His chest grew tight. How many times, he thought... how many times had he held himself momentarily against that sweet valley, and wished, almost prayed for the courage to take her. How he stood looking down at the flattened contours, his dick rigid. And Diane, looking up at him with wide, laughing eyes, seemed to be saying, "Go ahead, Uncle John. Touch me there if you want to."
"Do we have any salve you can rub on to make it less sore?" asked Diane finally.
John forced his hungry eyes away from her body. He looked deep into her face. But now she was sitting straight in the water, coyly holding the washcloth over her pussy and showing him the perfect cherry-tipped lobes of her breasts. He remembered the promise of blonde pubic hair he'd seen years before... the last time he'd spanked her. Was it gold now, he wondered. Like the long silky hair on her head? He'd seen only two in his lifetime, two real blondes. Both had had a triangle so curly and soft it was like fucking a cloud.
Turning abruptly away, he moved to the medicine chest and said, "You'll have to dry off first. I can't do it while you're in the tub." He searched through the bottles and tubes until he found the salve. Then, turning back to the girl, he asked, "What'd you call me for, anyway?"
"To make you come in 'n' see me."
John studied his niece. She seemed not to notice or care that he could see her titties, her legs. There was a dare in her eyes. It would be so easy to step to the tub, lift her out of the water, and crush her sweet little body to the rod in his pants. He forced the thought from his mind, commanded his joint to be still. "You're a woman now," he told her. "I shouldn't be in here with you undressed."
Diane sat taller. Her hard little pink nipples rose out of the water, dripped. "Don't you like looking at me, Uncle John? My body?"
"You're my niece!" he yelled, trying to convince himself as well as the girl. "Now get finished in here and put something on before I forget you're not a little girl and put the strap to your ass."
Storming out of the bathroom, John returned to the living room, and paced. He heard the water stop running, heard the drain gurgle, and heard Diane humming, as she toweled herself, he supposed. He could imagine the terrycloth moving roughly over her smooth skin... over the luscious half moons of flesh on either side of the pinched crack he'd seen in the tub. His gaze drifted to the police report on the end table beside the sofa. Sodomy! it said. Intercourse! Cunnilingus, fellatio, whippings, and orgies! And yet, aside from the welts and bruises, the black eye, the girl seemed not the least bit ashamed or concerned. He stared at the tube of salve in his hand. It would be so easy, he thought, so simple, to begin by rubbing her back, and creep lower.
He was sitting on the sofa, leafing through the report, when Diane padded into the living room and flopped beside him. The hem of the towel she wore as a sarong barely reached her lap. The top was tied right across her breasts, emphasizing the melons. "Rub me," she whispered. "See?" ,She .moved one small hand slowly over the fading welts on her thighs. "They did awful things to me, Uncle John. On my legs, my back, my buttocks. It was Greta's idea at first. She was jealous because Skeet, her brother, wanted me. So she got Sammy drunk and made him beat me with a belt." Diane turned, sat on the edge of the sofa sidesaddle, offering her back. She undid the knot at her breasts. The towel fell to her waist. She looked back over her shoulder. "After the first time, though," she continued, "after Sammy saw how I yelled and thrashed, he kinda got to like beating me. Especially my... my ass! He said whipping me there made my buttocks nice 'n' hot, and when he put it in me... his... his dick, I mean, well, I had to raise up off the bed, to keep from hurting the bruises, and me raising up, Sammy said, made it better for him."
Mentally, John groaned. He felt lightheaded. "You... you don't have to tell me," he said with difficulty.
"I want to." Diane inched her buttocks closer. "Put the salve on, Uncle John. All over."
John squeezed the salve from the tube onto trembling fingers and applied the slippery stuff to the girl's welted back. He began at her shoulders. But his gaze was on the towel at her waist. It slipped almost imperceptibly lower as he rubbed. His prick began to pulse and jerk in his pants.
"That first time was the worst," Diane went on. "They beat me once in the afternoon and again at night. But at night they had four pieces of rope, and Greta, whose idea it was, I think, really seemed to enjoy tying my wrists and ankles to the bedposts. I was spread-eagled. On my belly. But I could still see them... Sammy on one side of the bed, Greta on the other. And when Sammy took off his belt, I... I..." her voice broke.
"Did the girl, Greta, did she make... did she... did you and she...?"
"Make love?"
John nodded. In the lamp on the end table he could see his niece's reflection. The roundness of the lamp distorted her breasts, made the nipples pencil-like points. And the gap in the towel she held at her waist had widened so that he now could see the pinched crack up her lovely behind. He wanted to push his hand down into the chasm, probe her hot little asshole. He wanted to take out his cock, lift her onto his lap and make her slide down the stiff spike. "Did... did you and the other girl f-fuck?" he managed in a barely audible voice full of gravel.
"Not the first time," replied Diane. "But I think she came just watching Sammy beat me. And then, after I was all sore back there-" she glanced down, indicating her buttocks-"and Sammy had a hard-on, and they had untied me, Greta helped him turn me over on my back, and held my ankles wide apart while he climbed between my legs and stuck his big fat dick up my cunthole."
"Jesus!" John's hands slipped lower, to her waist... rubbing... rubbing. The salve had dissolved. But his niece wasn't interested in salve, he suspected. Nor was he. Now he wanted only to hear more about what the thugs and the girl, especially the girl, had done to her.
"Should I lie down?" asked Diane.
"Lie d-down?"
"Um. So you can rub the salve on my buttocks. The welts are worse there. See?" Abruptly the girl stood and let the towel drop midway down her behind.
John gasped. The plump half moons of flesh were marred with purple-red bruises. But they were nonetheless lovely. And the dark split, below an adorable dimple, showed a slight hint of the gold hair he knew he'd find on her pussy. He no longer cared that she was his niece. She seemed willing enough... using words like cunthole and dick... showing herself... offering to lie down. And now, as she stood looking back at him over her shoulder to gaze at his fly, she seemed almost mocking. "Yes!" he told her. "Lie down. On your belly."
Obediently Diane complied. She lay with legs slightly parted, arms at her sides, the towel draped over the round lower half of her ass. "Skeet liked to do me like this," she said. "In the behind. He said it was the best kind of fucking. Do you like it that way, Uncle John?"
"I... I haven't done that since your aunt died. She... she used to like it that way."
"Did she?" Diane pushed the towel down off her white and welted buttocks. The twin mounds jiggled.
"Better than fucking," gulped John.
"Tell me about it. I told you about me. Put the salve on my ass and tell me how you used to screw Aunt Margaret in the behind."
Was this actually happening, John wondered. Was this his niece? The girl was telling him, it seemed, in a subtle way, she wanted him to feel, perhaps fuck her ass. Or was it because his dick was so hard, harder than it had been in years, that he read more into the words than was actually there? She was so beautiful. Young. Naked. Waiting for his touch. Quickly he squeezed more salve from the tube onto his fingers and spread it over her exquisite little round cheeks. "Aunt Margaret was lots like you," he choked. "She... she liked me to rub her body with oil. It kept her skin soft, she said. But it never ended there. A massage always excited her... made her wild... a young girl again. Then she'd lay on her belly, like this, open her legs and beg me to... to stick my prick in her rectum." His fingers grazed the girl's crack. He felt the heat exuding from the tiny rear hole surrounded by tufts of soft hair.
Diane sighed. Her legs opened. Now John could see she was indeed a true blonde, could see the pink slit of her cunt. "We shouldn't," he said, unable to tear his eyes or hands away. "You should stop me before... before..."
"Before what, Uncle John?"
"Before you make me so crazy I won't be able to stop myself. Before I really forget you're my niece and do exactly what those three boys did to you."
Diane raised up on her elbows. She half turned, showing him one delectable tit and emphasizing the smooth swell of her bruised bottom. "Know what I was thinking all the time they were doing me?"
John couldn't speak. There was something stuck in his throat. He had to stop this! he told himself over and over. He'd be no better than the three thugs if he took advantage of her-worse! But she was making it so easy, wantonly offering her body, making him remember Margaret and that he hadn't had a young girl in more years than she was old. His hands moved lovingly over her hot little ass... kneading the tender halves... rubbing harder than he intended. And his cock, the fierce, throbbing thing in his pantsleg, made him crave what he knew he had no business wanting.
"I was thinking of you," said Diane at last. "All the time they were doing me, after that first time, I was thinking about how you used to press yourself against me at the store. I was thinking about how it should've been you... about how big your swipe is, and how good it would feel up my belly."
"No!" John slapped her. Hard! As hard as he could! To hear the words spoken, to have the girl say what he himself had been thinking, made it obscene. He slapped her again and again, not wanting to, but unable to stop himself until she was weeping and cowered at the armrest of the sofa. Then he sat staring. Because now she lay with knees raised to her breasts... fat pink cuntlips and curly white-blonde pubic hair completely exposed.
"You can beat me if you want. I don't care. Only do it. Do it to meee!"
Before John knew what was happening, his niece was against him, hand fumbling at his pants. "Fuck me, Uncle John," she breathed hot in his face. "Stick your big dick up my pussy. You know you want to. Don't pretend. All those times in the store, when you pressed against me, you were thinking how good it would be. And before in the bathroom. And just now while you were squeezing my behind."
The hand at his fly found the zipper, worked it down, and tiny cool fingers closed tight around the tortured knob of his cock. "It's beautiful," sighed Diane. "So hard. Fuck it up me, Uncle John. Please. PLEEZE!"
"Honey!" he gasped, unable to resist any longer. His arms went around her, pulled her close, onto his lap, and his lips, his tongue, sought the moist warmth of her mouth. Hungrily he kissed her. His hands moved down her back, to the plump cheeks of her ass, cupped the softness. His stinkfinger found her tight asshole, twisted in. She moaned and pressed closer. His free hand captured a breast. He pinched the miniature nipple, drove his finger all the way up her hot rectum, and shafted his tongue into the sweetness of her mouth.
Tearing her lips away, Diane whispered, "Fuck me now, Uncle John. I want you so."
"Lemme get undressed."
"Oh!" Diane released his prick and clawed at his belt buckle. "I can't wait. I'm so hot. Iiiieeeee...!" Her breath caught as his finger slipped from her asshole, across the island separating front and rear gate, and into the wet little gash between her anxious young thighs. "Oh, do it, Uncle John. Do it quick!"
John pushed her away, stood. His joint was a steel harpoon protruding from coarse cockhair. As he stripped, he watched the girl's glazed hazel eyes. Her gaze never left the joystick Margaret and others had told him was the biggest they'd ever seen. Momentarily he wondered if his niece, the beautiful girl stretched full length on the cushions, could take the fierce member. Her cunt was so tight! And her asshole! God, her sweet asshole! He'd tear her apart, humping it in back there!
"Hurry!" sobbed Diane. "My pussy's all wet. It hasn't had anything in it since yesterday."
"Tell me about the other girl," said John, running his fingers through her silk cunthair as he sat on the edge of the sofa. "Did you two... did you... did you and she...?" He couldn't make himself say the words.
"She sucked me," Diane supplied.
"Christ Jesus!" John drove his fingers deep into the tight but juicy hole between her gaped open thighs. He could imagine the girls, one atop the other, lapping each other's pink slit. "Did... did you suck her too?"
"Ummim. Y-yes. Owwwww!" Diane squirmed against his hand. She opened her legs wider. Raising one knee, she lifted her hips off the cushion, reached for him. "But I liked doing the guys better," she added.
"Then do me," he told her. "Suck my dick."
"Oh! Fuck me first. Then..."
"Now!" Panting, unaware of anything except the urgent need in his loins and the girl's glistening lips, John took hold of her hair. She offered a halfhearted protest. But with the vision of her going down on a prick vivid in his mind, the maddening thought of her mouth slipping wetly down the length of his stiffness, her protests meant nothing. He forced her head to his lap. He abandoned her pussy and gripped the roots of his sex. "Suck it!" he barked, steering his bloated rod to his niece's flushed, lovely face.
Diane whimpered. But her tiny hands closed tight about the base of his cock. Her tongue, an inquisitive butterfly, flicked out. John's hips bucked as the dart swirled around the tip, washed down, flattened against the thick vein along the bowed underside and licked swiftly back to the glans. She looked up at him from beneath arched brows. Her lips formed a wide O. Smiling at him with tear-filled eyes, she dropped one hand to his nuts, cupped, and gently drew the bulbous tip of his stiffness into the moist warmth of her beautiful mouth.
The contact tore a strangled cry from John's throat. "Ah, honey. Honeeeee!" His fingers locked tight in the girl's long hair. He pushed her head down, down, down the incredible length of his rod. He closed his eyes and savored the delicious sensation... grinding his hips... forcing his meat deeper and deeper. There was a roaring in his ears. A volcano. A tidal wave of jism seeping up from the knowing fingers, teasing his balls.
It ended too soon. Before his dick was fully embedded, before he could feel the girl's lips at the base, the roaring became the beat of ten thousand drums, the volcano erupted, and a tidal wave of hot cum shot up the length of his cock. "Oh, sweet Jesus!" he groaned, falling forward over the girl, forcing her head down with the weight of his body. Unable to think or hear, lost in the thrill of orgasm, he held her lovely face crushed to his coarse pubic hair, and fucked-humped spurt after spurt of thick cream into her gullet.
Diane gurgled. Noisily she sucked the hot fluid. She kneaded his balls. Her fingers played in the hairy crack of his ass. Although he was hurting her, John knew-although the wiry cockhair bruised her face, and his hands, fingers became grappling hooks, gripped her head as if he were drowning and she was a life preserver-she milked the last gooey drop: as if it were pollen and she was a bee and the hive in her throat was dependent on her for survival.
When it was over, when at last his prick was sated and growing limp, John released the girl. He watched her face rise up... lips red and swollen... a trickle of semen dripping down her chin. "I... I'm sorry," he told her, sick with his own uncontrollable desire. "For being so rough. For hurting you. I... I never meant to. I... I only wanted to... to..."
"It's okay. It was nothing compared to what happened up at the cabin. I... I guess I'm used to it by now." Diane hugged his legs. She rubbed her smooth cheek along the length of his wet joint. "As long as it was good for you. It was good-wasn't it?"
"The best, honey. The absolute greatest thing that's ever happened to me."
"I'm glad," sighed Diane. Her small hand closed around his thick dick once more. Head down, tongue doing a tantalizing dance between his tense thighs, she asked, "How long does it take to get hard again? Uncle John? Uncle?"
But John was too dazed to say more: too deliciously empty to do more than watch the silky blonde hair move like a delicate web over his thighs, his limpness. What was she thinking, this niece of his, he wondered. What did she think of her benevolent Uncle John now? What was going through her sixteen-year-old mind as she did her best to bring him back to full stiffness? Like a lollipop! thought Diane. Like the all-day cherry sucker she had never been without as a little girl. Her face burned from the slaps. But she didn't mind that. She didn't mind anything so long as she could have his big cock. Doing as Skeet had taught her, she held Uncle John's swipe and darted her tongue at the tiny aperture in the tip. It began to rise. She licked faster... making him groan as he'd groaned moments before when the delicious cream shot off in her mouth. Her cunt was dripping its juice all over the slipcovers, and the only thought in her mind was to make him stand tall and deposit another cumload... this time in the hot hairy hole between her trembling thighs.
"No more," said Uncle John. "Not this way."
She felt his hands at her armpits. She allowed herself to be lifted onto his lap. She wiggled until the crack of her ass pinched tight on the awesome length of his member. Then, nibbling his lips, rubbing her cheek on his whiskers, she whispered, "My pussy's so hot. Feel."
Guiding his hand to her cunthole, she opened her vulva, pressed two fingers into the wetness and closed tight. "It needs you. It wants more than anything for your big dick to fuck it. Put it in me, Uncle John. All the way up my belly. Make me yell."
"You... you like being hurt?" Uncle John was incredulous. He stared at her with the eyes of a man who had spent most of his life straight-fucking, and knew nothing of the joys -the overpowering captivation Diane herself didn't yet fully understand-of perversion.
"Hurt?" Diane, too, was incredulous. "It doesn't hurt, Uncle John. Whipping hurts at first. And like that. But fucking is wonderful."
Uncle John stared at her a moment more. Then his cock shot up stiff between her legs. He pulled her close, murmured her name over and over, and began to saw himself slowly back and forth in the pinched crack of her ass.
Is that what he wanted, Diane wondered. She leaned forward, spreading the cheeks of her ass, making her asshole more accessible. Now she remembered times when she was a little girl and heard strange strangled noises coming from the bedroom where her uncle and aunt slept. Now she knew, could tie the memory noises in with the sounds she herself made when Skeet and Sammy and Tony had spiked her behind. "Like Aunt Margaret," she told her uncle. "In... in back. You can do it that way. I don't care."
Uncle John kissed her. He mashed her lips so hard she thought sure her teeth were coming through the skin. She felt his hand on her bottom, felt one cheek of her ass being lifted. She helped. Shifting her weight to one hip, she reached under, took firm hold of his swipe, and set the fat tip at the hot mouth of her rectum. Then she let herself down... drawing the glans in past her tight sphincters... pressing his fingers hard into her cunthole... moving round and round and down the stiff meat standing up from his lap. The pain made her wince. He was bigger than she'd ever imagined a prick could be. But she continued to press-loving the hurt because afterward, after penetration, came bliss-the delicious thrill of a big cock stoking in and out of her belly, working toward orgasm that would satisfy her.
Uncle John broke the kiss. "Jesus! You ah! Ah, honey, it's no good this way."
Diane knew what he meant. With her in his lap, pressing down, he couldn't push. And it would take an awful lot of pushing, she thought, lunge after mighty lunge, to drive his magnificent swipe up her little backside. A sudden thought struck her, another memory from the cabin tucked away in the Palos Verdes Hills.
"I know!" Quickly Diane unshafted herself and leaped from his lap. Before Uncle John could blink twice, she had rearranged her body... kneeling... hands splayed on her buttocks, spreading the soft, tender flesh, offering her hot little asshole to the stake. Without hesitation, Uncle John came up behind her, on his knees, on the sofa. His middle finger probed through the tuft of wispy gold hair at her anus.
"Oh. Oh, hurry." Diane spread her upturned cheeks even wider. She felt his damp breath. "OWWWWW!" He was kissing her there, flicking his tongue at her sphincters as she had darted hers at the knob of his cock.
"It's beautiful," Uncle John breathed into the tiny puckered hole low between the succulent halves of her ass. "Let's make it wet some." He batted his tongue furiously at the aperture. His fingers slipped into her pussy-scooped juice from her cunthole. Still licking, he worked the thick lubricant into the target.
"Eeeeee!" Diane threw her hips back at him. "Put it in!" she cried. "Oh please! Please hurry and stick it up me before I c-c-c-ummmm!"
Uncle John obliged. Inching close on his knees, he set the head of his dick at the tiny brown hole it had only moments before deserted. "My fucking niece," he rasped. "Everyone should be so lucky to have a hot little cunt niece like you."
Diane sobbed. Her hips began to gyrate without being told to. Her body knew exactly what to do. She held her breath and watched. By looking down, between her gaped open legs, she could see his big hairy balls dangling below the roots of the rod about to spike her. She pressed back. Again the bloated tip slipped in past her sphincters. "Oh, Uncle. Owwwww! Shove it! Fuck it all the way up me!"
The hands on her hips crept under her belly. One cupped her pussy... stinkfinger agitating her clit while the meat stake burrowed in. "Ahhhhhh! So fucking urn! Fucking tight!" groaned Uncle John.
"Shove harder! Push!" Dropping her head to the cushion, widening the gap, Diane wiggled herself onto him. She felt his hard cock boring in: humping inch by inch, out-in, out-in toward the slippery depths of her rectum. But it was too slow. She wanted all of it in her. Now! Spitting thick cream! She leaned further forward. Then, with all the strength she could muster, she ground her hips back-telling him with her body that the pain, the initial torture, didn't matter.
It was as if her rectum, her tight little asshole, were cherry still, thought Diane as the last inch of hard swipe grated into her belly. He was so big! She remembered the day at the cabin when she had tried to escape and they caught her and Tony and Sammy fucked her in the woods. She recalled the magnificent ache two pistoning cocks had caused, and how later, lying in bed, both hot little holes stretched and gulping air, she'd reached with trembling fingers to reignite the button protruding from her vulva... thinking, wondering how such a silly thing, her clitoris, could create such bliss. Now she wondered again. She felt Uncle John's fingers stoking her cunthole, felt the glans of his prick throbbing-all the way up in her stomach, it seemed-wiggled and strained and wondered how she'd survived for sixteen years without hardly being aware of the delightful pink mushroom electrifying her pussy, her body.
"Lay flat," gasped Uncle John.
Diane obeyed. She felt his weight fall upon her, then felt herself being rolled onto her side, Uncle John close behind. She felt his knees at the crook of her legs. She doubled up. His cock began to slip in and out, smoothly now, as if the tight brown pocket had been tailor-made to his needs.
"This is the way me and your... ummm! Aunt Margaret used to do it," whispered Uncle John. One hand on her pussy, fingers deep, he raised the other hand to her breasts. He taunted the nipple. "Her asshole ahhh! was almost as good as yours. But not as tight. Not as f-fucking... oh Jesus! Not as fucking hot!"
Diane could imagine her aunt, who had been blonde and full-bodied, attractive, and whose behind was four-foot wide, it seemed, bent over to take Uncle John's swipe. The thought made her giddy: like watching Skeet and Greta make love at the cabin. Watching and hearing about fucking was almost as good as the real thing, she'd learned. "Did... did Aunt Margaret struggle the first time?" she asked, recalling the fight she'd put up when Tony first screwed her, and again in the woods. "Did... did you have to make her? Force her to give?"
"Um! You better ah! Better believe it!" grunted Uncle John, digging his thumbnail into her nipple, cutting the taut, tender peak, sending white-hot flashes through her tittie. "We'd been fucking steady for maybe a year," he continued, working his cock in half strokes in and out of her rear. "Then one night, me with a hard-on so big it would've made a mare neigh, us necking on the couch in her living room, I reached for a handful of pussy, and she said, 'No! Not tonight! I've got my period, John. You know how messy that is!' Well, her parents were out. And I didn't care if she had Niagara Falls down there. 'What's a little blood!' I told her. 'Once I get my prick up there, once we start fucking, you'll never know the difference.' She kept saying no, and I kept insisting... too hot to give a damn what she said. We started to wrestle-playful at first, me reaching under her dress. It was sort of an accident that my finger slipped up the wrong hole. 'Stop that!' she bleated. 'T-take it out before... before you make me s-shit!' But I wasn't about to stop. Because once my finger was up there, once I could feel those velvet muscles nipping, I thought Christ! Why hadn't I tried reaming her before!" His dick began to move faster. The hand from her cunt came around to knead a plump cheek. "Her ass was so soft," he added. "So fucking round and appealing."
Diane felt the glans of the swipe in her rectum begin to breathe. She knew that feeling, it was the way a swipe acted just before the hot spurts of thick jism shot off. Her cunthole, too, was beginning to discharge puddles of goo. The story, the images it created, the mental picture of Aunt Margaret fighting to protect her rear entrance-as she herself had fought in the woods -made her own tight little anus suck like a mouth on the joystick sending shivers up the steps of her spine.
"She hollered like a fucking banshee when I pinned her on her belly and got between her legs," said Uncle John. "But I was too stiff to care. So I threw up her dress to her waist and tore the panties from her hips before she could stop me. Jesus! Those big creamy melons!" He shoved his cock in to the hilt, held and grinded against her tense buttocks. His hand returned to her pussy, the teasing finger massaging her hard clit once more.
"Ohhhhhh! D-don't stop t-telling," moaned Diane. "Tell 'n' screw! Tell me everything!" She pressed herself back... setting a slow, tantalizing fuck rhythm. "Did... did she cry when you put it up-like me when Sammy first p-put his thing up there?"
Uncle John kissed the back of her neck. His rod seemed twice as fat now... pulling out... slamming brutally into the pinched crack of her ass. "I... I thought she was gonna wake the whole goddamn town," he said finally. "But once her panties were off, once I saw those big white cheeks jiggling, so fucking soft, I couldn't have stopped even if I wanted to. And I didn't want to. So I whipped out my prick, holding her down with one hand, and set the tip at her asshole while she yelled and twisted and tried to crawl away. Motherfucker! AH! AH, HONEY! I... I'll never forget how that pretty ass jumped when my rod began to go in. 'Oh, no, John, stoooop!' she kept screaming, the words all running together. 'It's too big! It'll never go! It... oh, no, PLEEEEEZE!' " As if he were fucking his stiffness up Margaret instead of Diane and wanted to hear the cries, the protests and sobs, he drove his fingernails deep into the girl's tender nipple.
"OWWWW!" Diane covered the hand on her breast and chewed her lower lip against the excruciating pain. Yet her hips, her pelvis, her asshole, unmindful of the torture, continued to grind. "You... you're h-hurting meee!" she wailed, pressing back, wanting, in spite of the pain, to feel his swipe slamming harder and faster, to feel the blast of hot semen that would momentarily sate the stronger, more demanding, hungry empty ache in her belly.
"You're hurting me!" groaned Uncle John, echoing his niece's words as he went on with the story of Aunt Margaret. "But it was too late to stop. Too good! She tried to close her legs, but I kept pushing, watching it go, and I felt that tight little rear cunt stretching despite the protests. I had her nailed to the couch. Helpless! 'It's going!' I told her. 'No matter what you do! Make up your mind!' And I kept humping it in until her legs opened and she started to help. Boy! Did she help! Those big meaty cheeks came up off the cushions and wiggled and wiggled. And inside... inside like ah! Ah Christ! Like... like you're doing now. Inside all those sweet little muscles began to suck and massage the head of my prick until oh! Oh Jesus, Diane! Diane babeeeeee!"
He was popping. Diane felt the first jerk- like a springloaded crossbow preparing to fire -threw her knees high, to her chin, and drew the thick pulsing shaft further still up her quivering behind. She covered the hand wedged tight between her thighs, worked it round and round on her pussy. She pressed down on the hand on her breast, tightened her sphincters, and fucked her soft little bottom furiously onto the shaft making ready to spit.
Diane turned her face toward him, offering her lips. She closed her eyes. "Kiss me," she sobbed. "Kiss me and fill me with cum. Hurry! Hurreeee!"
Uncle John's wet, open lips covered hers. His tongue shot into her mouth. The fingers high in her cunthole reached higher still... spreading... pressing... molding the thin wall, the elasticlike tissue, to the fat rod up her rear. The darkness behind her eyelids began to spin. A tiny light in the distance, propelled by a supersonic jet that roared in her ears, came rushing into her head as the first fiery stream of thick cum blasted off in her belly. She gasped. Her legs, without having to be directed, as if the lower half of her body possessed a life of its own, straightened-trapping the spitting member, holding it tight with the plump cheeks of her ass, and milking, drawing spurt after spurt of hot cream. She didn't want it to end. Not ever! She worked the muscles deep in her sheath... sucking the sticky jism up from his balls... wanting more than the flood pouring off in her rectum, seeping out and down the inside of her thighs.
And then she was coming too... spewing juice all over Uncle John's hand and the slipcovers. She loosened her sphincters, allowing his dick to pull back, then drove her wet little asshole onto the stake once more. She repeated the maneuver again and again, ripping another spurt from his rod with each backward thrust. Until there was no more cream. Until she had to tear her lips from his and suck air into the lungs grown too big for her chest. Until they lay exhausted... Uncle John's strong, muscular arms wrapped tight around her... his long prick going limp in the pocket between her plump buttocks.
After several minutes of silence broken only by labored breathing, Uncle John said, "I'm glad you're home."
"How glad?" Diane whispered.
"This glad." Quickly Uncle John yanked his dick from her rectum, rolled her onto her back, spread her legs, and buried his face, his mouth, his inquisitive sandpapery tongue, in the bright pink, sopping wet, swollen and hungry gash below the white-blonde curls of her pussy.
Chapter Five
It was all very well screwing Uncle John. He was nice enough. But now that she was his mistress as well as his niece, and because she needed the rest, and because it could happen again, he said, she no longer worked at the store. Which was fun for a while. Until she'd done and redone everything that needed doing around the apartment, seen all the latest movies, read The Sensuous Woman, which all the girls she knew were raving about, and was bored. Then, no matter where her thought processes began, no matter what was on her mind when she awoke in the morning, by lunchtime her thoughts were back in the cabin in the Palos Verdes Hills.
Darn! What in heck was wrong with her, anyway? Diane found herself wondering after almost a month of what Uncle John called the "good life." The fucking was good, she had to admit. But with all the idle time, though the bruises were gone from her body and the black eye healed, she had only to sit alone for a moment and the belt was lashing out inside her head. She had only to close her eyes to feel the rope at her ankle, and see Greta-the brat!-digging sharp little nails into her sex and thighs. Worse, she had only to begin to remember, to return mentally to the dingy room at the cabin, and her belly, her tiny pink cunthole, tightened as it did when she saw Uncle John's big veiny dick growing hard. It was almost as if she'd enjoyed the four-day adventure. Almost as if sex and what Tony and the others had done to her were one in the same thing.
That was crazy! she told herself, cringing at the mere thought of the horrible ordeal. It was because she was lonely, she decided. Idle because most of the girls her own age were still in school, and, except at night when she and Uncle John did every weird kinky sex thing either of them could think of, alone in the quiet apartment, with nothing to do except remember and brood. The idleness ended abruptly. It was as if Fred-the tall, good-looking boy she'd kicked in the balls on prom night when he tried to feel her virgin cunt in the hall-had waited for just the right moment to come to the door. She was so bored she'd have welcomed DeSade himself... just to have someone to talk to.
Uncle John wouldn't be home for hours, she knew, and immediately the boy stepped into the apartment Diane remembered that Fred was the only guy she knew whose cock seemed never to go down. She was suddenly glad she'd worn the tight jeans and halter instead of a dress. She could feel his gaze on her ass as she closed the door. Everyone in the neighborhood knew about what the kidnappers had done to her. As she turned from the door, breasts bobbing braless beneath the skimpy top, she was certain she detected lust envy in the boy's deepset brown eyes.
Fred studied her for a moment. "You don't look any different," he announced.
"Oh?" Diane leaned back against the door. She felt the worn denim digging into her cunt-lips, saw the boy's gaze drop from her face, to her crotch. Her pussy grew tight. "As far as I know," she said lightly, "there's only one way you can tell the difference between a girl who has and one who hasn't been screwed. And that doesn't show."
Fred blinked. Was this the girl who had almost ruptured him when he tried to cop a cheap feel a few months before, he wondered. He shifted uneasily. "I um. I guess it doesn't. Show, I mean. But did they really do all the things it said in the papers? I mean... tie you down, and...?"
It was Diane's turn to study him. It was obvious he'd come calling with sex in mind and just as obvious he was perplexed, even amazed, by her boldness. She liked the feeling of being able to unsettle a man. And she adored the thing beginning to show signs of life in his pants-leg. Slowly she moved across the living room, to the sofa. She sat. Patting the cushion beside her, she said, "If you mean did they do what you wanted to do that night at school-well, that's only part of it." She wiggled her ass into a corner, against the armrest, raised one knee and gave him an unhampered view of the puffy V atop and between her full thighs. She watched his eyes widen. "They fucked me every which-way!" she added.
Flopping beside her, apparently having decided she was for real and might even be considering giving him some, Fred grinned. "Sounds like you dug being kidnapped."
Diane cocked her head at him. "I guess I did. Some of it, anyway. I guess-well, I guess I'm sorry I didn't try it before. Sex and like that. You know? Like that night at school. In the hall. When I let you kiss me and you tried to put your hand on my... up my pussy."
"Man!" Fred inched closer. He cupped his nuts. "Do I ever remember that! I can still feel the kick."
Staring deep into his eyes, cunthole beginning to leak and make the panties and jeans uncomfortable, Diane covered his hand. The boy gulped. "Is it still sore?" she breathed. "Your swipe? Is it mad at me for being an ole meanie?"
"Holy fuckin' cow!" Fred snatched his hand away... leaving her knowing fingers, her palm, curled at the crotch of his pants. His prick shot up tall. Tentatively he touched her thigh. "Man! I never expected... I mean, I never thought you'd... well, shit! I came over thinking maybe me 'n' you could have some fun. But I never expected this! Man!"
Diane giggled. Men were all alike, she was learning. They expected a girl to be a frightened dumbhead, and were lost, dumbfounded to find one who was actually anxious to screw. She moved her hand along the stiffness in his pants-leg. She watched his eyes narrow as her fingers crept up, to the zipper at the top of his fly, and began to toy with the little brass tong.
A sudden change came over Fred. As if her willingness had triggered a need to exert himself, as if something primeval within him had been released, he fell hungrily upon her. His bruising lips covered hers and his hand, the one high on her thigh, shot up to the puffy V between her legs. The other hand shot beneath the hem of her halter. When his fingers encountered bare flesh, found her taut nipple, all signs of restraint disappeared. He forced her back, over the arm of the sofa, scrambled atop her arched body and pressed the stiffness in his pantsleg into the heated pocket at the crotch of the tight dungarees.
Diane gasped. Where a moment before she had been anxious to feel the boy's prick burrowing into her belly, she now tried to push him away. He was hurting her: bending her back over the armrest, sending flashes of fire up her bowed spine. She fought. But his weight held her pinned. It was as if she were back in the cabin, and Tony, as he'd done the first day, was pawing her titties, her cunt, about to take what he wanted.
Finally she managed to tear her lips away. "Let me... oh! Oh, you're hur-hurting meee! Let me gooo!"
"Shit! You dig being hurt. You said so yourself a little while ago. Now gimme some pussy or else!" The boy's stubby fingers undid the zipper at her crotch. His hand dove inside the denim. His fingers forced their way into the dampness where the panties lay sunk deep in her tender cuntlips.
Again Diane gasped. But now, the tingling in her pussy vying with the hurt in her spine, she struggled less to get away than to get comfortable. Shifting, raising her knees on either side of the boy, she managed to wiggle down until only her shoulders lay on the armrest. The fingers stabbing into her cunthole withdrew for a moment. She felt Fred's hands at the waistband of the jeans. She lifted her buttocks. Then the denim and nylon were gone, bunched at the top of her thighs, and the fingers were back ,.. spreading the wet lips of her vulva... taunting her clit... poking roughly into the shivery pink folds of her love nest.
"Jeez! I never seen a blonde one before." Abandoning her tits, pressing her hand tight to the ferocious thing in his pants, Fred stared in wonder at the white-blonde ringlets between Diane's alabaster thighs.
"Don't... ow! D-don't finger so hard."
"Shit!" The boy forced his fingers even deeper. "I bet they did worse to you at the cabin."
Diane squirmed. The mixture of pain and pleasure was confusing. Her pussy seemed to cry, Fuck me! Fuck me! But her mind, the revulsion she'd experienced when Tony and the others played wanton games on her body, continued to protest. Her pussy won. For although she had told the boy to stop, to be gentle, her own fingers fumbled frantically at his fly. The zipper opened. Feverishly she groped for the stiff meat that would quell the ache in her belly.
"Manomanomano-fucking man!" Fred thrusted his bloated cock into her hand.
"It... it's almost as big as Uncle John's," whispered Diane, working the loose outer jacket, whacking him off.
Fred stared hard into her eyes. Disbelief showed on his face. "You mean you'n' your uncle...?"
"Ummm." Diane squeezed the fat tip of his swipe, steered it to her swollen wedge, and gently rubbed the stiffness in her silky cunt-hair. "Ever since I came home. He... he fucked my ass the first day. And I sucked him off. And then he sucked me. And now we do ah!-" She threw her hips into the fingers digging cruelly into her sex-"now we do everything!"
Fred made an incoherent sound. The fingers not working her vulva dug deep in the tight crack of her ass, into her anus. His nails were sharp. Diane felt them scraping painfully past her sphincters. She closed her eyes, bit her lip... remembering the excited look on Greta's gamine face each time the younger girl was given an opportunity to use the little red daggers at the end of her fingers. She heard Fred say, "Let's go in the bedroom." She allowed him to help her up from the sofa. Limply she fell into his arms... dizzy with the feel of his dick pressing into the space at the top of her thighs as he kissed her.
Moaning, wanting to feel his big prick stabbing into her cunthole, Diane lay still while Fred yanked the jeans and panties from her trembling legs. Wide-eyed she watched him drop his pants and shorts. She waited. But Fred merely stood beside the bed, staring. For a moment she wondered what he was up to. Understanding suddenly dawned. She moved willingly to the edge of the mattress; lifted her ass when he raised her legs to his waist, and locked her ankles. She felt his dick poking blindly at her sex. "Let me. Oh, let me put it in," she gasped, taking hold of his hard-on and setting the glans at the wet mouth of her vulva.
"Man! You're some fucking hot cunt once you get going!" Fred's hands moved up the back of her thighs, to the plump, quivering cheeks of her ass. "Mother!" he gulped.
Hips raised, lower body suspended beyond the edge of the bed, Diane drove her nipping cunthole onto the boy's magnificent member. "Oh. Oh, fuck it into me."
Fred lunged. Gripping the halves of her ass, standing with feet wide apart between her scissored legs, he drove the entire length of his meat into her tight cunthole. His stinkfinger once again sought her anus, drilled in. Grunting, he ground his cockhair, the roots of his rod, into her vulva.
Diane whimpered and strained to draw even more cock into her belly. It was good. So good! she thought. Her cunt was ablaze with the need to feel a prick shooting. Her asshole opened and closed, breathing, sucking on the stubby dart high in her rectum. Now she wished they'd long enough to take off her halter. The garment was cumbersome-had ridden up, and now felt as if it were choking the air from her lungs. But she knew Fred was too excited to stop... to pause for the moment it would take to shed the top. She threw back her arms over her head, forced thoughts of the confining halter from her mind, and concentrated on the fat cock, the stiffness she could see only the base of, jerking like an unruly vibrator at the top of her vagina.
Slowly Fred began to fuck. Diane watched the long cylinder-now aglisten, slippery with juice from her cunt-glide out, then bore smoothly back into the depths of her swollen pussy. She felt the hot tip open the tight, inner folds... felt the folds come together as the boy pulled back for another stab. What an exquisite contraption her little cunthole was! she thought. Looking into the bright pinkness, as she had done almost every night with a mirror since returning home, was like staring into a cut in a piece of raw beef. It appeared uncomplicated enough. But once her tiny clit grew hard -as it did at the slightest provocation, the slightest touch, the slightest friction-once the lubricants began to flow and the outer lips puffed up, it became the most complex, most adorable slab of inverted raw meat in the world.
And a cock! thought Diane, churning her ass, her wet cunt, in time to the boy's quickening rhythm. There was nothing more lovely than a big dick ready to explode, a stiff swipe in search of a hole to spit into. She tightened her excited asshole on Fred's finger... remembering the first day at the cabin when Tony and Sammy had fucked her in both places at once. Now she wished for another long swipe, another pistoning joystick burrowing into the grotto between her soft buttocks where a finger could do little more than annoy.
"Oh, man! MAN!" Yanking his finger from her anus, digging his nails brutally into the tender halves of her ass, Fred shoved his prick into her to the hilt. He held-grinding hairy balls like deflated balloons against her cheeks.
"Oh God. Oh God, shoot. Shoot! Shoot! Shoooooot!" Diane reached up for him. She wanted to feel his weight upon her. She wanted to kiss him, suck his tongue... close her eyes and pretend she was sucking a cock when the cum blasted off in her belly.
Without breaking contact, Fred obliged. He dropped heavily, pressing her into the mattress, knocking the breath from her lungs. "I... I'm coming," he gasped. "Man, what a fuck. What a fucking cunt you got, Di. What a sweet little..."
Diane kissed him. She, too, was about to reach orgasm and was impatient to have his tongue deep in her mouth. Opening her lips, she sucked. Moving her legs higher on his back, almost to his shoulders, she worked her inner cunt muscles on the fiery glans expanding and contracting within her... straining to reach the place where nothing except pulsating pussies and fat throbbing joints mattered; where sticky cunt-juice and jism united, sending white-hot thrills through sweating bodies caught in the blind grip of consuming passion.
"Ah Christ! AHHHHHHHH!" Fred's teeth sank deep into her full lower lip.
Diane tasted warm blood. Tears stung her eyes. But there was another kind of warmth, another kind of stinging, flooding her sex. Moaning, making noises like a hurt animal, she tightened her legs-squeezing with all her might, digging her nails through the boy's shirt, into his back, and pumping her sopping wet cunthole onto his cock.
"Christ, that's ah! Good! Christ! Christ! Jesus fucking Mary and Joseph and Christ!" Fred groaned as the first spurt of hot cream flew from the head of his prick. His hands abandoned her ass, gripped the high neck of the halter, and yanked.
"D-don't rip i...!" Too late! Diane felt the garment give at the seam. Her titties sprang free. She felt his moist breath on her flesh, watched him draw one rigid pink nipple into his mouth and reach for her bucking behind once more. She forgot the halter. Her asshole recaptured his finger. She forgot everything except the thick semen pissing off deep in her pussy. Her clit, the sensitive core of her being, it seemed, was a tuning fork playing the notes of a sweet primeval tune on her thighs, her belly, front and rear hole. "Ow. OWWWWWWWW!" she cried. "All! All of it! Fuck it up my belly. Fuckit! Fuckit! Fuck it all into me!"
Humping, slamming his rod, his balls, his bramblebush cockhair into her dripping cunt, Fred bit down on her nipple, again drawing blood. But Diane didn't care. It was horrid of her, she knew. Shameful! Wanton! But she no longer could help herself. No longer could she resist the exquisite sensations a stiff dick triggered. She was coming... alive with the wonder of having yet another big swipe fill her vagina with goo. She held his face, his nipping teeth, to her breast, closed her eyes tight, and fucked and fucked and fucked her insatiable white-blonde pussy up off the bed.
When it was over, when the boy's dick had stopped spitting and lost some of its fullness, and Diane's legs were too weak to remain locked at his waist, they rested. They lay face to face, on their sides, petting. Diane thought back -to when she was a virgin saving her body for Mr. Right. To when her lovely little blonde wedge was a treasure she protected with the ferocity of a mother cat protecting its kittens. And now, she wondered. Was this brazen girl, this shameless body milking the last icky goo from Fred's rod, was this her? It seemed incredible that such a change could come about in such a short time. And for a moment she felt the old revulsion, the indignation, the horror of being violated she'd experienced at the cabin. What had they done to her? True, the bruises outside were healed. But within, deep in her sex, there was an unhealable scar; a hungry emptiness where, only a month before, her maidenhead, her tight little cherry, had rested serenely, content to wait.
Grinning, moving his fingers slowly up and down the deep crack of her ass, Fred said, "That was the best fucking piece ever. Man! I knew you'd be good. But I never thought you'd dig it all this much."
Diane chewed her lip. She wanted to shout, "Take your hands off me! I'm not... I... I'm a good girl!" But the words wouldn't come. The only thing coming was the tiny pink bud in her cunthole. That was coming back to life... demanding attention... crying out for the bludgeoning caress of a cock.
Fingering her asshole, dick still in her pussy and growing hard once more, Fred asked, "Is it true? What the papers said, I mean-about all three screwing you at once?"
The papers! thought Diane. The darn, stupid papers! Did they have to tell everyone? "I... I..." she faltered.
"Man!" Fred's mouth sought her neck. Noisily he sucked a hickey into the creamy flesh below her shell-like ear.
Diane began to move restlessly. Now she remembered how Tony and the others had done what they called "gang-banging," three cocks at once, slamming into her body at both ends. "They... they made me do it," she heard herself say. "F-first Tony. He... he made me get on my elbows and knees over him. I... I didn't want to. 'Oh, please!' I begged. 'PLEASE!' But it was no use. He... he had his swipe up my pussy, and was holding my ass, spreading the cheeks so I couldn't back off when Sammy came up behind. It... it was h-horrible! I felt Sammy pushing in... s-s-sticking his big dick up... up my rectum. I yelled. I fought them. But he kept humping-all the way up to my tonsils, it seemed. And it hurt. It hurt something awful because I was dry back there, and he kept fucking, fucking, fucking it into me. And then Skeet. Oh God. God!" She sobbed, remembering the feel of two hard pricks in her belly, and a third, a bobbing, nozzle-tipped pole, inching close to her face. "S-S-Skeet was on his knees at the head of the bed," she continued, voice atremble. "He... he pulled my hair when I tried to twist away. 'Not that!' I screamed. 'Oh, anything but;..!' But before I could finish, even before the words were out of my mouth, he was forcing his long, veiny dick, the tip still smelling of cunt because he'd just finished with Greta, against my lips. 'I won't. I woooooooon't!' I kept telling them. Then Greta -that brat! That horrid little bitch! She... she came and sat on the edge of the bed, and giggled, and... and..."
Fred yanked his meat from her sloppy wet love hole. Taking hold of the slick shaft, he set the glans in the tuft of soft hair at her anus. "What'd she do? Tell me!"
Moaning, Diane felt the boy's rod poking her asshole and recalled how Greta, fucking Greta! had used her fingernails. "She... she dug her... her nails into m-my breasts. 'You... you're hurting meee!' I cried. 'Stop! Oh please, stooop!' But she'd already done what she set out to do-made me open my lips so Skeet could force his big stinking cock into my face." Panting, remembering, she lifted one leg, threw it over Fred's thigh, making the crack of her ass, her tight asshole, more accessible. She felt the swollen head of his swipe slipping in. Wiggling, she inched down... down onto the glans... down the stiff shaft, working her sphincters like suction cups, drawing him in, in... into the hot, slippery walls of her anxious rectum.
They fucked quietly for a moment. Until Fred, apparently having envisioned the scene at the cabin, stopped humping and asked, "Did you like sucking his cock? I mean-after he'd fucked the other girl?"
"Nooo!"
"Well, you're gonna suck mine!" Without waiting for her to reply, the boy yanked his shit-smeared rod from her anus.
Diane was too stunned to fight. Bug-eyed she watched Fred straddle her chest and steer the filthy tip of his prick to her lips. She smelled her own shit, saw the icky brown stuff clinging to the length of his member. Her mind recoiled. But her mouth, as if her mind no longer controlled her body, willingly formed a wide O.
"That's it, babe. Man! Suck it! Suck it clean!" The boy thrusted his bloated dick into her face.
Gagging, tasting her own waste, but unable to still the burning need in her pussy, Diane sucked the awful thing into the moist warmth of her throat. She gurgled, watched his lower abdomen come closer and closer until there was nothing except wrinkled balls and a black forest of coarse cockhair outside her lips. Like the forest in the Palos Verdes Hills! she thought. And Fred was like Tony and Sammy and Skeet. They were all the same-Uncle John, the thugs, Fred. They seemed to take pleasure in making her do the most terrible things. And she, her body, her cunthole and rectum and mouth, seemed not to care what perversions she was constantly being subjected to.
Hands cupped on either side of her face, dick jerking, nearing another blastoff, Fred worked his hips rapidly forward and back. "Man! Tho... thought you said you didn't... oh, man! Good fucking manomanoman! Thought you didn't like sucking a dirty rod."
"I don't...!"
"Fuck you don't! I never seen a ah! Ah, suck it, baby. Suck! I never seen a cunt who liked it like you."
But I don't! Diane protested mentally. She despised the taste, the smell, of her asshole. And the stink, the acrid odor of sweat from his sacs, was making her nauseous. Yet she sucked. She welcomed the thrust of his swipe, drew deep on the tip with each forward lunge, and became frightened, almost hysterical, when he pulled back and the fiery, pulsing glans almost popped from her face.
"Baby. Ba-beeeeeee!" Fred slammed his meat into her.
Gasping, choking on the knob of the cock poking through the back of her skull, it seemed, Diane felt the first gob of semen spew off in her mouth. Greedily she gulped it down. Wrapping her arms tight around the boy's hips, she held him close, cockhair mashed to her face, and sucked and sucked as spurt after delicious spurt ricocheted off the roof of her mouth and slid smoothly, hot and slightly salty, down her throat and into her tense belly. It was as if the thick jism had found a way to her cunthole from the inside. For as the last drop trickled off, her pussy, the tiny pink bud protruding from the swollen outer lips, vibrated-as if touched by a cattle prod-and the electric snap of sudden orgasm raced through her body. She squealed and sucked even harder. Knees raised, legs wide apart, she gulped cum and fucked her cunt up off the bed and onto her invisible lover.
It was dusk when Diane awoke to find Fred had gone. She blinked into the hazy bars of light cutting across her nakedness from the blinds on the window beside the bed. Had she passed out, she wondered. It had happened before. At the cabin, overcome with shame because of what they'd done to her, and because her body, against her will, had complied, she'd retreated into unconsciousness half a dozen times.
Tremulously Diane sighed. Looking about the room, she wondered what would become of her. At one time, before the kidnapping, she'd wanted nothing more than to marry, settle down, and raise a family. And now? She no longer knew! She knew only that fucking was good, so good. But fucking, it seemed, always led to perversion. Everyone-Uncle John, Fred, the men and boys who stared at her when she walked down the street or went into a store- knew what Tony and the others had done to her. And no matter how it began, no matter how anxious a swipe was to burrow into her pussy, it always ended with sucking and hurting and shame.
Glancing down the length of her lovely, young body, Diane saw the goo, the hardening cum, in the little white-blonde coils of hair crowning her sex. Tears sprang to her eyes. The poor thing! she thought. What abuse it had been forced to endure! And now, because of the fire the thugs at the cabin had ignited, because of the emptiness that throbbed like a toothache when a stiff cock came near, she herself was subjecting the sweet curly wedge to violation, to shame after shame.
"What's wrong with me, anyway?" she blurted, the tears running down her flushed cheeks.
But there was no ready answer; none she knew of. Only the need. The burning demand in her cunthole. The butterflies in her belly. Even now, with Fred gone no more than an hour, she supposed, she was thinking about Uncle John and what they would do, what new kinky sex game they'd play when he came home from work. He'd kiss her, she knew. Then, even before supper was on the table, as had happened every night since she came home, his fat awesome prick would get hard, harder than steel and...!
Silently Diane wept. But her breathing grew labored, loud and ragged, as she tried to guess, tried to imagine, where Uncle John-tall, handsome Uncle John-would stick his big dick when he came in and found her naked and waiting.
John entered the apartment, expecting to find his niece in the living room. But the lights were out, the place quiet. He called. No answer! Where in hell was she, he wondered. His gaze settled on the open bedroom door. Quickly he crossed the room, stopped.
"Jesus!" he breathed as he saw her... asleep, back to the door, legs curled up to her breasts, and lovely white ass, the split dark and alluring, toward him. He couldn't get enough of the girl, it seemed. He had only to glance at her, to see her high tits straining against the tight clothes she wore, and he was hard. Now, staring at her nakedness bathed in diffused light from the window, his joint stood tall, ready to pump cum into the hot hairy hole between the soft halves of her bottom.
Silent, not wanting to wake her, he approached the bed, sat. There was something special about a sleeping nymphet, he mused. Even with Margaret, in the beginning, he recalled, he'd made it a point to awake first in the morning. And while she slept, on her side, just as Diane now was sleeping, he'd slip low on the bed, press his face close to the underside of her wide ass, and smell and lick both delectable holes until she began to squirm. Then good fucking! Lots of good fucking and sucking because Margaret had been at her best, her hottest, when she awoke in the morning.
Bending close, mouth within inches of the space at the back of Diane's creamy thighs, he drank deep of the smell of her asshole, her little pink and blonde cunt. What they were doing was wrong, he knew. Incest! An ugly word! But he no longer could help himself. The girl was too lovely, too willing. Her tight white-blonde pussy was the absolute best he'd ever had. And no matter how often he tried to convince himself that what they were doing was sinful, that fucking his niece was evil, it was like telling an alcoholic not to take the next drink.
Diane stirred as his tongue flicked up the sweet crack of her ass. John backed off... waiting for her to settle into deep slumber once more. His dick throbbed, aching to be sheathed. He stood. Gaze riveted to the girl's succulent behind, he undid his belt, his fly. He let the pants fall; pushed the shorts down his legs, stepped out of both garments and hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt. His chest felt tight. And there was a tightness in his balls-an urge- no! A demand!-for a hole to deposit what seemed to be gallons of boiling semen. Stepping out of his shoes, flinging his socks across the room, he eased his bulk onto the bed, close behind her. His rod seemed to be two feet long: jumping, unwilling to wait another moment.
"Honey," he whispered, moving his fingers down the split in her ass to the tuft of down at her anus. Finding the tiny, puckered hole, he probed. He loved every inch of the girl's perfect young body. But her bottom, the smooth, jiggly half moons of flesh-like cushions at the top of her thighs-were special. He loved most of all watching her cheeks tighten as his cock speared them open and drilled home. Now, using his fingers to spread the soft halves, he set the bloated tip of his prick at the mouth of the thing he adored.
Again Diane stirred in her sleep... this time pressing back, anus breathing, opening for penetration. John groaned. He felt her hot sphincters, like silk clamps, close tight on the head of his member. Even in sleep! he thought. The girl was always ready to fuck, always willing to take his dick wherever he decided to put it. He pressed forward... pushing in an inch at a time... wanting her to remain asleep... drunk with the delicious sensation, the dual, illicit pleasure of incest and pretended rape.
Prick a third of the way up the girl's rectum, John reached around to cup her blonde pussy. Soft! he thought, rubbing, gently massaging her mound. He heard her sigh... almost a moan. He continued to rub until her hips began an almost imperceptible dance. Was she dreaming, he wondered, getting laid in her sleep, too? And, if so, was she dreaming of him or someone else? A frown cut into John's brow. The thought of Diane fucking for someone else, even dreaming of another, made him angry. She was his now-no one else's! They were tied together by the bond of their illicit lovemaking.
He glanced down to where his cock protruded from the girl's miniature asshole. She was so small, so fragile. Yet she'd undergone every perversion imaginable at the hand of her kidnappers, and could take a dick-his ferocious pole -that had struck terror into the hearts of grown women with cunts and assholes twice the size of the nipping aperture he now burrowed in. His stinkfinger sought the indentation at the top of her cuntlips. Still rubbing, using the palm of his hand to excite her, he found and teased her hard clit. Her hips began to move faster... drawing him in... asshole sucking at the portion of cock not yet embedded.
Unable to resist a moment more, the velvet walls of the girl's rectum sending whitehot flashes down the length of his rod, John pulled back and lunged.
"Huh?" Diane's hazel eyes fluttered open. "Fred? Is that y-you?"
"It's me, honey. Your ole horny uncle."
"Oh. Uncle John. I... owwwwww! Ummmmm!"
Pulling back once more, John thrusted the last inches of dick up her plump bottom. "Ummra is right. Your asshole is better every-time. But who the fuck is Fred?"
"I... I was d-dreaming." Diane looked shyly back over her shoulder. But there was nothing shy in the increased motion of her hips, her buttocks. Now that she was awake, aware of what was happening, the gentle gyration became a wanton, insistent bump and grind. The cheeks of her ass rubbed sensuously together against his coarse cockhair.
John allowed his prick the pleasure of basking motionless in its tight burrow. The frown returned to his brow. He felt it cutting into his face as the thought of another-Fred! whomever he was-doing to Diane what he was doing cut into his wrath. Driving his fingers deep in her pussy, intending to hurt, to punish, to make her tell him what he needed to know, he forgot for a moment how good it was to fuck in and out of her asshole, and concentrated on the one word: Fred!
"Oh, don't. Don't!" Diane tried to pull away.
"If you were dreaming about someone named Fred," growled John, "then there must be a Fred. Who is he?"
Relentlessly John dug his fingers, his nails, into the sensitive walls of his niece's sex. The tears in her wide frightened eyes made him more determined, more cruel. She was his! His to do with what he chose! He withdrew until the tip of his dick almost escaped, and rammed the entire length back up her quivering backside. Curling his fingers deep in her cunt, scraping the wails with his nails, he said, "If I catch you fucking for anyone else I'll..."
Diane screamed as the fingers in her pussy tore across the tender tip of her clitoris. "Oh, I won't! I w-won't do it for anyone else EVER," she cried, tears streaming down her face, spasms wracking her body. "PLEEEEEEEEEZE!"
John relented. Turning the girl onto her belly, spreading her legs wide with his knees, he began to fuck his joint rapidly in and out of her lovely behind. He held himself up on outstretched arms and watched her cheeks tremble. He watched her delectable asshole, her swollen sphincters, turn out along his dick when he pulled back, and invert when he plowed. "Move your ass," he told her. "Fuck for your ole uncle, honey. Fuck like you was fucking before."
Sobbing, Diane lifted her hips off the bed and moved her hot little asshole on his bludgeoning cock. John felt the familiar nipping begin... the nipples, as if there were a hundred tiny mouths working along the length of his pistoning rod. He reached for the reading lamp at the head of the bed, pulled the cord and flooded the room, the girl bucking beneath him, in soft yellow light. Now he could see her sweet cunt-hole. He watched it open and close with each stab of his dick in her rectum. His gaze devoured the hair-the silky blonde coils, her pussy, the hot hairy hole that drove him half out of his mind. Panting, sweat trickling down the furrow in his back, he drove his prick faster and faster, in and out, deeper and deeper in the fiery brown velvet pocket low between the girl's jouncing buttocks.
Diane yelled when the first blast of thick semen shot into her. Arching up-head high and belly and thighs cutting a trench in the mattress-she locked the plump halves of her ass on his spitting rod and wiggled and wiggled. "Oh, Uncle John," she whimpered, expanding and contracting her hot little asshole. "Don't stop. Oh, don't ever stop fucking your dick into meee!"
Chapter Six
Diane fully intended to keep her promise to Uncle John. After what Fred had made her do, the embarrassment she felt whenever thinking about it, she didn't care if she never saw him again. And her uncle had hurt her something awful, even worse than Tony and the others. Even now, days later, her tight little cunthole was raw inside from his punishing nails. And he'd told her again and again, every day since the afternoon with Fred, that he'd beat her next time-put the belt to her bottom if she ever dared fuck for anyone else again.
But she was thinking other thoughts now. It was a bright summer day, and the new hot pants and blouse she wore drew admiring stares from men and boys who didn't know who she was, didn't know she was Diane, the girl who'd spent four days being raped in a lonely cabin in the Palos Verdes Hills. Even the driver, as she stepped from the bus a mere block away from the moviehouse and an afternoon of fantasy, winked and smiled at her cute, bouncy behind. She didn't mind that. In fact, she liked being looked at, always had! It was only those who knew who she was, those aware of what she'd been through, who made the looks dirty, something to be ashamed of.
But today she felt clean, alive. It might even be nice, she thought, to meet a boy at the movies -someone who'd flirt and offer her popcorn, which was silly, but fun. Someone who'd be pleasant and awkward simply because she was an attractive, unescorted girl. It was what she was thinking when the horn broke into her consciousness. She stopped, was almost knocked down by shoppers hurrying by. Who in the world, she wondered as the car, a long, red convertible-a Pontiac, she thought, but wasn't sure-made a U-turn at the corner and came squealing back. Her breath caught when she saw the shock of dark hair and grinning face thrusted out the rear window.
"Hey, Di!" Fred waved as the car screeched to a stop at the curb. He leaned further out the window, looked her up and down. "So how's about a quickie?" he yelled, apparently unconcerned with the curious pedestrians who had stopped to stare at the car, and the girl-her!- in hot pants so tight they were stuck deep in the crack of her ass.
"Little tramp!" an elderly woman shopper muttered under her breath.
"Don't go with them, girlie," said a leering, beefy man in work clothes. "I'll take the rest of the day off 'n' you can come home with me."
Diane wilted. Heart sinking, she watched Fred, still grinning, unruffled by the comments flooding her face with shame, throw open the back door of the car and motion her in. She knew what would happen once she stepped into the car. There were three of them. But she couldn't just stand there, couldn't endure the words making her ears ring with hot blood. Where a moment before she'd been happy, carefree and alive, she now felt as if she'd been lifted by an invisible hand and set roughly down in the horrible cabin in the Palos Verdes Hills.
She felt a hand brush her ass, turned and saw the beefy man smiling with teeth stained brown and green with tobacco. She wanted to run. But a crowd had gathered-unable to get past the leerers. And now, as she stood helplessly among them-Fred urging her into the car, and the beefy man, because of the crowd, the confusion, feeling her ass with impunity-the horrible woman who'd called her a tramp was telling everyone she was a "street girl."
Quickly, to escape the terrible strangers, the horrible woman, and brazen man, Diane stepped to the curb. Fred took hold of her hand. She hesitated. She looked back. She saw the beefy man make an obscene gesture. Without thinking, wanting only to get away, she allowed herself to be guided into the car.
Before the car had maneuvered its way through the downtown traffic, Diane regretted the move. Fred had wasted no time. Despite her struggles and protests, despite her pleas, his hand was cupped at her crotch, and, while the two boys in the front seat watched-one looking hungrily back at her, the other, the driver, watching through the rear-view mirror-he worked his hand, his fingers, up the legband of the hot pants to her pussy. Diane felt his insistent fingers pressing the nylon panties into her sore cuntlips. She winced. "Please don't," she whispered, not so much troubled by the pain she had by now begun to accept as a part of sex, or by what Fred was doing, as embarrassed by the strange eyes watching their every move. "You... you can come to my apartment. Just me and you. M-my uncle won't be home for hours, and we..."
Fred laughed. "No way, baby. What about my friends? You can't go accepting rides without paying the fare." He forced the panties and two fingers up her wet cuntlips. "Now be nice 'n' gimme a kiss."
"Nooo! Let me out. I... I'll walk."
Again Fred laughed. Turning to the sandy-haired boy in the front seat, he said, "She's a little stubborn at first. But once she gets with it... man! What she needs is some friendly persuasion. C'mon back here, Mike."
"You said it!"
Before Diane could utter another sound, the boy from the front seat, Mike, had scurried over, into the back of the car, and was helping Fred stretch her out on the cool leather. "Oh, no. NOOOOO!" she wailed, kicking at Mike's hands, trying to free her legs.
"Shit! We ain't gonna hurt ya," assured Fred, trying to press his lips to hers, holding her torso down with the weight of his body.
Gripping her ankles, Mike forced her legs wide... opening her cunt for the fingers beneath the hot pants. "Better get out of the city," he told the driver. "Someplace quiet. Maybe up aroun' Palos Verdes. I bet she'd dig that-huh, Fred?"
"She digs this!" Fred pushed the panties aside and pressed all four stubby fingers, wedged together, up her dripping little love hole.
Gasping, no longer able to speak, Diane grabbed the boy's wrist in both hands and tried to force the fingers away. But it was no use. The more she struggled, the rougher the fingers became... hurting... digging deep in her sore vulva. She closed her eyes tight, chewed her lip, and listened ,to the hum of the tires as the car turned onto the highway; the same highway they'd traveled the day Tony and the others robbed Uncle John's store. There was no escaping that day, it seemed. It was there, always present, in everyone who knew.
"That's better," rasped Fred.
Diane felt the fingers slip from her vulva. For a moment she thought he had relented and they were going to let her go. Then she felt Fred's fumbling fingers working the zipper at her waist. She sobbed as the hot pants opened. She held her breath as the shorts and panties were shimmied off her hips, down her quivering thighs... exposing her body, her sore pussy, for all in the car to see.
"Jesus Christ Super Star!" gasped Mike, hands moving up the outside of her thighs, taking over for Fred, yanking the garments down and off her feet. "She's a real blonde all right. Lemme at it, man. My cock's so fucking hard .. Jesus!"
Diane barely heard the boy. Her flesh burned with new shame. She concentrated on the hum of the tires... trying to disengage herself... to blot out the rape. Despite the effort, she heard the rustle of clothing as Fred stripped pants and shorts from his legs. If she screamed, they'd hurt her, she knew. But she had to do something, no matter how futile, how inadequate-as she'd had to do something when the strangers on the sidewalk, the horrible woman, the beefy man, forced her into the car. She took a deep breath... held it until her lungs threatened to burst. Then, as Fred arranged himself between her spread legs-swipe stiff, pointing down, ready to stab into her pussy-she yelled with all her might.
The car bucked, as if frightened. "Shut that bitch the fuck up!" ordered the driver.
Fred slapped her. Back and forth. Again and again until Diane stopped screaming and raised trembling hands to her smarting cheeks. Then he set the tip of his dick at her pulsing pink cunt-hole, and, while the sandy-haired boy, Mike, held her ankles, while the driver, the one with the gruff voice, watched through the rear-view mirror, while Diane whimpered and tried not to feel the delicious tingling sensation making her tiny clit jerk, the boy humped the length of his prick-so stiff, so long-up her white-blonde pussy.
"Oh, motherfucker!" groaned Fred.
Releasing her ankles, Mike moved swiftly to the other end of the car. "Let's get a look at them titties," he growled, sitting on the edge of the seat and fumbling with the buttons down the front of her blouse.
Diane felt the breeze from the front-vent window wash over her torso. Why hadn't she worn a bra, she thought. If she had, if she'd taken the simple precaution, she reasoned hysterically, there'd be another garment, more protection, something more to dissuade the fingers biting into her breasts... arousing her pink nipples. She held her eyes tightly shut and tried not to think about the hands, the cock driving in and out of her cunthole, the driver watching. But the cock felt so good, so hard, the glans so round and smooth. And the other hands, the ones on her buttocks, the finger twisting up her pinched asshole, were forcing her hips up, up off the leather... driving her against her will onto the pistoning shaft.
"Lookit 'er go! Manoman!" Fred fucked faster, slamming his stiffness brutally, harder and harder, into her juicy love hole.
"Oh. Oh God!" Diane felt her legs rising up, seeking the boy's slender waist.
"That's it, baby," rasped Fred. "Put 'em... oh mano-fucking man! Put them sweet fucking legs... ah Jesus! Man! Wrap... wrap 'em aroun' me quick!"
Whining, mewing a sound alien to her ears, Diane obeyed. She gripped the boy in the vise of her trembling thighs, squeezed. Her ass churned. Her hips, as if suddenly plugged into an electric outlet, began to grind round and round... fucking her tight little pussy, her cunthole, furiously onto the rod stoking in and out of her belly.
"Hurry up 'n' lemme get some while she's hot," urged Mike, stiff prick in hand.
Diane yelled as the cream spurted off in her pussy. She worked her pelvis... milking... milking. She felt the hot goo seep out, down the crack of her ass, down the inside of her thighs, and form a small puddle on the seat. She slapped her buttocks into the puddle... fucking... fucking with all the strength in her body, all the force in her hips.
"C'mon, man. Gimme a shot," insisted Mike, moving his hand down and over the swell of her round belly and into her silky white-blonde curls.
The dick in her cunt suddenly popped free. "Owwwww!" breathed Diane. She opened her eyes, watched Fred push her legs from her waist, watched the other boy strip the clothes from his lower body. She moaned. Mike's cock was uncircumcised. She'd never before seen a swipe without the torpedo-shaped head, and now, as she stared in awe at the natural phenomena, her vulva twitched... crying out, it seemed, begging for the new experience.
Fred and Mike changed places. And as the sandy-haired boy-who had sandy hair surrounding his balls and prick, too, noted Diane in wonder-positioned himself above her, ready to fill the hungry space Fred had vacated, the rod still wet with her cuntjuice, smelling of her vagina, bobbed close to her face. Her mouth filled with cottonish saliva. Now there was a need, a hunger in her throat, too. As the big, un-circumcised dick, Mike's joystick, found her hot hairy hole and began to bore in, Fred seemed to recognize the temptation in her gaze, raised one knee, leg cocked, and offered the slimy glans of his tool for sucking.
"Boy, she's some good pussy," whispered Mike, forcing his meat up her belly, in short, mighty thrusts.
"She digs sucking, too, man." Fred cupped her chin. Turning her face toward him, he rubbed the slick tip of his rod across her glistening lips.
"Oh, no. N-not that," protested Diane weakly -shame making her cheeks burn despite the spit coagulating in her throat. She closed her mouth, moved her head from side to side until the fat pole in her pussy tore a strangled cry from her lips, and the glans, the smelly tip of the swipe in Fred's hand, pushed in past her teeth.
"Holy shit! Save some for me," said the driver, swerving out from behind a truck he'd almost tailgated into. The car shot forward, slowed, turned right off the highway. The steady hum of the tires became an erratic thump-thumping.
"Put your knees up," said Mike. He waited for her to comply, to form a wide V with her legs. Then, holding himself raised on outstretched arms, panting as he watched Fred force his joint into her face, he began fucking his long uncircumcised cock slowly in and out of the sloppy wet grotto between her lovely young thighs.
Diane felt lightheaded, dizzy. She was coming, having orgasm after orgasm, each one better, more violent than the one before. She arched her spine and wiggled her ass as she'd never gyrated before. She sucked Fred's dick into the warmth of her mouth-not caring that her neck ached from the unnatural position, or that they were using her, making her a receptacle for their perverted desires. Her hand fluttered at the base of Fred's cock. Tentatively she cupped his balls. Sucking him all the way in to her throat, she kneaded the wrinkled sacs and kneaded the swipe in her belly with her inner cunt muscles.
"Mother!" gasped Mike, stoking harder. "She... she's as tight as a... a fucking virgin!"
The word brought fresh tears of regret, tears of shame, to Diane's eyes. A virgin! She'd never again be a virgin-never again be the sweet, innocent girl she was only a month before. How many swipes had sampled her charms? Five? Six? Six! An even half dozen! she realized... counting the one now fucking her pussy. And there was another in the front seat, a dick with a gruff voice, that would spit jism into her belly before the day ended.
The uncircumcised rod in her belly suddenly buried itself to the hilt. "Fuck, baby. Wiggle!" choked Mike. Frantically he grinded the roots of his sex, his wiry cockhair, into the sore, swollen lips of her vulva.
"And suck!" demanded Fred, ramming his meat home, holding her face tight to his belly, again pissing cum.
Diane gagged. She couldn't breathe. She was twisted, contorted, her limbs and neck going every whichway. And the semen-the thick goo shooting off from two cannons at opposite ends of her body-was triggering red and orange, purple and green and white flashes, inside her head. She heard thunderclaps-Mike's belly, as he fucked off the last of his load, slapping hers. She was drifting... being carried away on a noisy, Technicolor flying carpet. But there was nowhere to go except down. Down into the black depths. Down into nothingness. The voices seemed to be coming from far, far away-from a speck of light at the end of a tunnel of darkness. They were no longer moving, she realized. As she forced her eyelids open, blinking into the speck that had suddenly become a windowful of bright sunlight, she saw why. The car was parked beneath a ceiling of trees, leaves, and patches of blue, on a deserted dirt road. For a moment, mind still fuzzy from the blackout, she watched the faint breeze rustle through the overhead garden. Why hadn't they put the top down, she wondered. It was such a nice day-so warm and peaceful and relaxing-that she didn't see why they didn't make use of the accordion braces supporting the canvas roof of the new red car.
"She's coming aroun'," said Fred.
"'Bout fucking time, too," replied the gruff voice from the front seat of the car.
Whimpering, Diane shut her eyes tight once more. It was all coming back to her... Fred, Mike, the nameless one at the wheel. They'd fucked her unconscious, and now, lying helpless on the seat, the sun dancing on her naked flesh, she was vulnerable to attack, at their mercy, available for fucking again and again and again.
"Shit!" blurted Fred. "Now she's pretending. Like I didn't see her eyes open. Fucking cunts're crazy, man. Every last one of 'em!"
"Naw. She ain't pretending," mocked the gruff voice. "She's still out. But I got somethin' that'll wake 'er up real quicklike." A moment later, the voice was beside her in the back of the car. "This is better than smelling salts," the owner of the voice added.
Suddenly Diane was thrashing about wildly on the long plastic thing the driver of the car had shoved up her tender cunthole. Opening her eyes, she gripped the man's thick wrist, and fought silently-stunned, unable to believe this was happening to her-to push the horrible thing away. She'd heard about such devices, battery-operated dildos, but never, not in her wildest dreams, had she thought such a terrible thing would find its way into her little pink slit.
"Hey, man. You think she likes it?" Fred spread her legs wider.
"L-l-let me GOOO!" Diane struggled harder than she had ever fought in her life-harder than she'd struggled the first time at the cabin. Because now, while she lay helpless, Fred holding her legs and Mike trapping her hands, the driver, the one whose face was even uglier than his voice, slipped the vibrating dildo from her vagina and began pushing it, painful inch at a time, up between the trembling halves of her ass and into her rectum. "Oh, noooooo!" she cried. "N-not there. It... owwwww! It's too biiiiiiig!"
It lasted until she was too exhausted, too numbed with pain, to fight anymore. Her asshole, her insides, felt as if they'd been chugged upside down in a cement mixer and packed back in her belly by clumsy hands. "You still got that blanket in the trunk?" she heard someone ask, but was too dizzy, too shaken by the vibrator, to ascertain who was speaking.
"Good idea," said the gruff voice. "You get it 'n' me 'n' Fred'll get her outside."
Diane watched Mike, bare buttocks toward her, step from the back seat and disappear around the back of the car. With the last ounce of strength in her legs, she kicked as Fred and the driver lifted her off the cool leather, and, banging her naked hips into the steel frame causing new pain, carried her out into bright sunlight and space... room to do whatever terrible thing they now had in mind.
But what was left, wondered Diane. They'd fucked her, made her suck, and forced the hideous dildo up her behind. There simply wasn't an unviolated hole big enough to stick a dick in anywhere on her tortured young body. Somehow the thought gave her courage. It wasn't as if this was the first time, she reasoned. She knew what a cock felt like, knew its reaction no matter where it was put. And despite the pain, the nausea, the burning shame, her pussy craved fucking still. It was a fact she found horrid, unthinkable, but nonetheless true.
They made her stand, Fred and the driver each holding an arm, while Mike, stubby uncircumcised cock bobbing half hard away from his body, arranged the blanket over a pile of leaves. Then the driver, fingers working deep in the crack of her ass, unzipped his pants. "Fred tells me you like being reamed," he said close to her ear.
"I... I..." Diane faltered.
"Just bend 'er over one time," suggested Fred. "You wanna see something go faster 'n that vibrator? Watch her ass when you stick a hunk of hard sausage up there!" He stepped in front of her. He went to work on her breasts... pinching the nipples... kneading the firm, creamy mounds. His dick came up stiff and brushed against her belly.
"That sounds like my bag, baby. Hold tight." The driver abandoned her ass long enough to shed his clothes. Then he stepped up behind her once more. His curious fingers returned to her puckered anus, pushed in past her sphincters. "Show me!" he told her. "Open that sweet little asshole 'n' let's see you go."
Diane didn't resist when the hand high on her back pressed forward, jackknifing her body. "D-d-don't h-hurt me anymore," she pleaded... wanting him... not wanting him... not knowing what she wanted anymore. "G-go easy. Please. I... I w-won't fight. I... I'll h-help, but..."
"Sure you'll help," the ruffian growled. "I already know you like fucking. I watched you all the time in the car. I never seen a pretty blonde pussy snap like that little bird's nest you got." His fingers slipped from her asshole, into her cunt. "An' this tight little brown hole back here-" he pressed the tip of his big cock into the soft puff of fur at the mouth of her rectum- "this one's gonna snap just as good... or else!"
Despite her resolve to help, to give them what they wanted without further resistance, Diane cried out when the driver pressed his swipe into the hole the vibrator had made more tender. The force of the first lunge almost knocked her to her knees. Instinctively she reached out for balance, something to hold on to. Fred was there... stiff prick jerking, waiting for her mouth. Oh God! Not again! she thought as the meat she'd tasted twice before touched her lips.
"Hey, man. How about lettin' me get a shot of that good face," objected Mike, stepping up and nudging Fred aside. "Don't be greedy, man. One knobjob per customer." He stood with feet wide apart. Thrusting his hips, his sex, forward, he said, "It ain't too hard, blondie. But you suck it awhile 'n' it'll come up like a fucking flagpole."
For a moment, the cock in her asshole basking before another lunge, Diane stared askance at the blob of meat at the tip of the joint surrounded by coarse, sandy hair. It was the absolute ugliest thing!
As she watched, whining deep in her throat, clutching the boy's hips as the dick in her behind began to grind forward once more, Mike took hold of the horrid thing. She watched him draw back the foreskin. She blinked. There was a bulb-bright red and not much bigger than her own cute little pink hard-on-hiding within the strange slab of loose flesh.
"Give it a lick," urged Mike.
Diane stared in fascination at the miniature pecker within a pecker. Her tongue, without the slightest coaxing from her, flicked out. Mike grunted and fucked his hips forward at the same time the stiff meat in her ass plowed. She gasped. Her lips opened. The entire length of the boy's peculiar member glided into her mouth.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Mike cupped her face. His rod began to swell. In less time than it took the prick in her rectum to pull back for another lunge, the one in her face was full hard and jerking against her tonsils.
From the corner of her eye, Diane saw Fred, who had been standing aside watching, whacking himself off, drop to his knees. Bug-eyed she watched him scurry forward... into the space between her legs and the boy whose rod she was sucking. His hands crept up the back of her thighs. "Man!" he breathed hotly into her pussy. "It even smells good!"
"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! OWWWWWWWW!" Hips bucking, gurgling the pleasure noises on the glans of the pole in her face, Diane tried to capture the tongue lapping her cunthole. It was her turn to grip the back of a head. Weaving her tiny fingers through Fred's shock of dark hair, she held his noisy mouth tight to her wedge, held on to Mike with her free hand, and screwed her round anxious ass furiously back onto the swipe digging, digging, digging in and out of her shoot.
"Oh, mother! Motherfucking motherless mother-you sweet little cocksucker you!"
Mike slammed his hips forward so hard his nuts jumped up and slapped the underside of her chin.
Diane squealed as the bright red tip butted the roof of her mouth. It was suddenly heaven. Pure bliss. The pain, the residue of torture and shame, seemed to have fled with the first flick of Fred's tongue. And now, the dick in her face sliding smoothly in and out of her O-shaped lips, the one in her asshole twisting from side to side as it plowed, the open mouth covering her sex began to suck and blow. She felt the hot breath pouring into her vulva, felt the tongue with the texture of sandpaper washing her clit, and knew-at the very least-she was going to black out again. Now she fought the dizzy sensation, fought the darkness that had meant escape before. For although it was impossible to breathe, although the trees and sky and ground were spinning, there was a thirst in her gullet, her rectum-a thirst which only the gushing of thick cream could quench. A thirst so demanding, so powerful, she made loud sucking noises each time Mike pulled back, fearing he might pop free. A fever so strong her sphincters seemed to have grown fingers to yank the rod reaming her rectum back in to the roots each time it tried to retreat. She felt bloated, stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey. Yet the little pink slit in her pussy wanted more. It, too, wanted a cock to caress... something fatter and longer and harder than a tongue to wrap its slippery arms around and make violent love to.
"Ummm! Um baby. Bab-baby! Your asshole nips like the jaws of a fucking toothless barracuda," she heard the driver, driving his throbbing joint faster and faster and faster into her plump bottom, say.
"You gotta try this end," Mike countered. "Chris'sakes! I think she's trying to eat my fucking balls, too!"
And then everything seemed to happen at once. The tongue licking her cunthole found the trigger. An automatic pistol shot bullet after bullet of sensation through her inner thighs. Her legs gave out. Moaning, she dropped to her knees on the blanket-taking the prick up her asshole down with her, but allowing the one fucking her face to jump free. The tiny red tip poked redder than red from its jacket of skin and blasted thick sticky semen into her eyes, her hair. The cock up her belly geysered. And Fred-fucking Fred! dropped almost flat... tongue refusing to relinquish its prize... fingers digging into the soft flesh his friend was humping between... sucking a continuous orgasm out of pussy while Mike tried to straddle his head and plant his uncircumcised swipe in her cum-spattered face once more.
"Oh, suck me!" cried Diane. "Suck me. Suck me! Suck meeeeeeeeee!" Greedily she drew Mike's dancing joint back into the saliva-filled warmth of her mouth, pressed Fred's face with both hands to her pulsating pussy, and tightened her buttocks. There was only one thing Diane now regretted. She felt the jism oozing down her cheeks, watched cross-eyed the drop trickling down her pert nose. And she felt terrible about having wasted all that lovely white cum.
Chapter Seven
John was watching at the front window when the red convertible full of boys delivered Diane at the door. Anger made his hands tremble. The little whore! he thought. He'd been pacing for hours, afraid something had happened to her, thinking she may have been struck by a car and was lying unconscious in a hospital, unable to speak, to tell the doctors who she was. But worse, she'd been out on a gang bang! She'd been giving her hot little gash to another carload of thugs. Furious, he stripped the belt from his waist and strode to the hall door. He waited, heart thumping, imagining what he would do to the girl.
Diane knew Uncle John would be angry with her. But it wasn't her fault! She'd simply tell him the truth; how the boys, as Tony and the others had done, took advantage of her. Besides, she decided, he was only her uncle, after all. And although she loved him, adored his big, veiny cock, she was his niece, not a wife, and could do what she damn well pleased.
Nervous, wary despite the sudden spark of self-reliance, she paused on the stairs to straighten her clothes. Her body was numb from the waist down. Her cunt and asshole seemed to have joined forces-breached the gap between, leaving one gigantic sore gash in her lower belly. She felt the warm blood creep up her neck as she remembered what the boys had subjected her to. Why was it, she wondered. What was there about her that attracted brutes?
She thought back to the day at the store, which seemed a lifetime ago... recalling how she'd defied Tony, the invisible hand gripping her virgin pussy when he brandished the gun and ordered her to the floor. And later, at the cabin, when they attacked her, how she seemed to say and do things which spurred them on. It was almost as if she enjoyed being hurt. Almost as if she instigated situations where sex and pain were synonymous.
A nervous laugh escaped Diane's throat. The strange thoughts, the uncontrollable urges- drives she didn't understand-frightened her. She forced the thoughts from her mind. She wasn't like that! she told herself. It was simply a case of having been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She sniffled. Tucking the blouse into the waist of the hot pants, wondering what Uncle John was going to say, and deciding, after all, it might be best not to tell him where she'd been and what had occurred-might be best to invent a simple tale-she climbed the stairs to the apartment door.
Immediately the girl entered the living room, John noted the disheveled clothing, the blush on her attractive, young face, and that her hazel eyes darted furtively away from his inquiring gaze. With satisfaction, he watched her blink at the thick leather belt in his hand. He flicked his wrist. The belt, like a rattlesnake striking, snapped.
"D-don't!" Diane raised one fragile hand to her glistening lips. Stepping back, she stared in horror at her uncle.
"I warned you!" roared John, intoxicated with the sudden sense of power tightening the muscles across his chest, down his arms, in the hand the belt dangled from. "I told you what you'd get if I ever caught you putting out for anyone but me. Now-" he made a grab for the girl.
"Nooo!" Diane dodged, put the coffee table between her and John. "I... I d-d-didn't do anything. I w-went to the movies with... with a friend!"
Then: "I saw you get out of that car not five minutes ago. Was it Fred? And the others? Did you give the whole fucking carload a piece?" Again he snapped the belt... enjoying it when the girl winced... imagining the welts it would raise on her lovely backside.
"T-they made me!" cried Diane, cowering. She retreated until the back of her legs met the sofa and there was no place else to go. "Oh, Uncle John, it... it was horrible!" she offered hysterically. "I... I didn't want to. But Fred... and the people on the sidewalk. There was this man. And a fat woman who kept saying the most awful things. So I got in the car. Honest! And then they made me do even worse than the ones who took me away on the day of the robbery." She stared pleadingly up at him.
John didn't know or care what she was talking about. He knew only that she'd disobeyed his orders... given herself, her body, after he warned her not to. Watching her, noting the way the blouse stretched tight across her breasts and the hot pants even tighter over her belly, he recalled the day she came home and summoned him to the bathroom to see the welts and bruises down her back. What was it like to see the girl's white buttocks grow bright pink under the lash of a belt, he wondered. Would she yell? Scream? And afterward... was it like the story she'd told about the boy whipping her because it made her rise up off the bed, made it better, when they screwed?
Diane seemed to take heart by what appeared to be hesitation to use the belt. Lifting her small chin, squaring her shoulders and throwing her breasts out, she said, "Besides... I'm sixteen and can do as I please."
The brazen little cunt! thought John. Abruptly he stepped forward, spanning the coffee table with one long leg, and grabbed the girl's arm. "I'll show you who's boss," he growled. "Do as you please, huh?"
He flung her-yelping, the fright back in her big, babydoll eyes-onto the sofa. Her foot lashed out. It grazed his crotch... not enough to hurt, but enough to make the anger he'd nurtured while waiting for her to get home flare up anew. But now there was something more. As his niece struggled to rise from the cushions, the hot pants, askew to begin with, rode high on one gorgeous, full thigh. As John bounced her back down-still kicking, legs wide-a tuft of blonde hair, peeping from the legband of the girl's panties, came into view. And John's cock began to grow hard in his pantsleg.
"They're new!" protested Diane as his fingers locked at the waistband of the shorts, yanked. The button at the waist of the hot pants gave. The zipper whizzed open. Tearing the material down her thighs, John feasted his eyes on the pink and white flesh, the gold down, beneath the transparent panties. The bulge in his pants threatening to burst through, he reached for the nylon undergarment. Diane rolled away. On hands and knees, she tried to scramble over the arm of the sofa. The belt lashed out, made a loud cracking sound against her upthrusted behind. "OWWWW!"
Before she could recover from the stinging blow, John was on her... tearing the nylon from her hips... baring her exquisite behind. He was suddenly obsessed with the thought, the mental picture of his niece tied to a bed, being whipped. Knee at the crook of her back, he held her down. He heard her wail. But he couldn't resist bringing the belt down. Again it kissed her backside... louder! And the sound, the sight of her succulent buttocks pulling tight, pinching the sweet crack up her lush bottom, made him lash out again and again until the tender white surface was crisscrossed with red.
Panting, sweat pouring from his brow, John stared down at the creamy mounds, the thighs, the blonde fuzz growing low in the crack of the ass he adored. He dropped the belt. He knew he had hurt her. But not nearly as much as the thugs who'd held her captive for days, he reasoned. He was about to tell her so when the girl threw her arms around his legs, and, instead of recriminations, pressed her face, her mouth, to the mighty bulge in his pantsleg.
John fell with her onto the cushions. No longer were they niece and uncle-victim and master. Now they were lovers-male and female about to form the pact of sexual equality. "Oh, Uncle John," sobbed Diane. "Do it to me. Fuck me. Please. Don't be mad anymore. Stick your big dick up my pussy and forget everything else."
John kissed her. Her lips opened beneath his. He sucked her sweet breath, drove his tongue into the depths of her mouth. He pressed the hard meat in his pants into the soft, hot little pink and blonde pocket between her smooth, lovely thighs. His hands slid down her sides, over and under her hips, to the succulent melons he'd lashed out against moments before. He groaned. Her flesh was on fire... searing his palms as she raised up, as she'd told him, as had happened at the cabin when the boy applied the stinging belt to her ass. "Do it," Diane breathed into his mouth. Her hand crept down between their straining bodies to his fly. She fumbled. Her fingers found the zipper.
John's hips jerked uncontrollably as the girl's slender fingers closed tight on the shaft of his cock. He lifted... helping her free the enraged monster. His hands moved back up her sides, to her blouse. He undid the buttons... exposing her breasts, nipples taut, standing tall, reaching out, it seemed, for the hungry ministrations of his lips. He covered one hot little bud, sucked it into his mouth, and batted his tongue against the sensitive tip. "Put it in for me," he croaked, unable to wait, to take the time to undress, humping his prick at the wet gash between her legs. "In your cunt!" he told her, exciting himself more by mouthing the word. "Show my dick the way home. The way up your pussy. Now!"
"Oh, yes. Yes!" Working her hand down the stiff shaft, to the roots, Diane held the dart firmly. She raised out a knee, kicked off the shorts and panties and dropped the other leg over the edge of the sofa. The bright pink folds of her luscious inner cunt fell open.
"Put... put it in!" commanded John.
Diane made the subdued sound deep in her throat that held for him a way of negating the outside world, taking him in-as if he were merely a prick, no mind, no body, and her cunt-hole, her exquisite, tight and hot and wet little blonde wedge, was the only live thing in the universe. A shiver ran through his body. He gasped... experiencing for what must have been the hundredth time since she came home from the cabin, he estimated, the wonder of her velvet sheath sucking the knob of his cock into the fiery depths of her delectable vagina.
"Oh. Oh, do it," whispered Diane, pumping her pelvis up off the cushions.
John tried to restrain her. Already his joint was tingling toward orgasm. The slippery walls of her cunt seemed destined to draw the cum prematurely up from his nuts, and he didn't want it to happen, not yet. Not before he basked in her heat. Not before he had a chance to feel her cuntlips turn out and then in along the length of pistoning rod. Not so soon-before he could fuck her the way she deserved to be screwed. "Slow down," he told her. "You... you'll make me pop off too soon."
"I want you to. I do. I dooo!" Diane did something inside her cunt that made him half crazy. Her little round ass refused to remain still- came up off the sofa and grinded her curly white-blonde pussy onto his tool.
"Not yet. No!" John bored down, pinning her flat with his weight. He watched her young face contort with the effort her body was making to reach orgasm. "Tell me about the boys," he directed, wanting to hear what new degradation his lovely young niece had been subjected to. "About Fred and the others. How many were there?"
"T-three. They oh! Oh, Uncle John. They... they made me do the most t-t-terrible things."
Sucking her taut little nipple, hands once again gripping her succulent ass, John set a slow, steady fuck rhythm. "Tell me!" he demanded.
Diane sobbed. She closed her eyes tight-as if remembering. Her ass, her pussy, matched his pace. "F-first in the car," she said in a voice barely above a whisper, "Mike held my legs while Fred fucked his swipe into me. Then they changed places and Mike did my pussy while Fred-" she threw her hips high despite his weight- "put his long stinking dick in my mouth. Oh. Ohhh!" Again she began to gyrate furiously.
Slipping one hand from her bottom, John splayed his fingers on her belly, pressed. The girl cried out in pain. He maintained the pressure until her hips rejoined the slow pace. "What else?" he asked. "What about the third boy? Did he fuck you?"
"I... I passed out," Diane continued finally. "And when I came to we were parked. In the woods. And then they carried me out of the car, and all three oh! Oh, Uncle John! They... they fucked my asshole and pussy and made me suck and... and did me every whichway!"
John could imagine the girl trapped, as he had imagined her trapped at the cabin, and three stiff pricks taking pleasure from her stacked little young body. Did she fight them, he wondered. No! he decided. He was certain she gave it up willingly! He was by now convinced the girl would fuck for Satan himself if she once saw his pole. His own pole began to dig faster... making soft slurping noises as it dipped smoothly in and out of her sopping wet hole. "They... they did me standing u-up first," Diane went on without prompting. "The driver -oh! Oh, he was ugly! He... he made me bend over. And while he fucked his big pipe up my rectum, Mike, whose s-swipe is uncircumcised, made me s-s-suck. And then Fred-" she made a strangled, pleasure noise and again her ass shot up high off the cushions-"Fred got on his knees, between my legs, and began to lap. His tongue... ow! Owwwwww! His tongue went up my pussy like... like a wet snake! Oh God. Oh God, Uncle John, hurry 'n' come in meeeeee!"
But John wasn't yet ready to allow his dick to spit. It was too good. Fucking the girl was something you savored, he thought. Like Napolean brandy. Like an expensive Havana. And he knew, once the cream wiggled up from his sacs, once the release of orgasm gripped his body, his cock would go limp for a moment, would have to be coaxed back to life. He didn't want that. He couldn't stand-not even for the moment it would take to coax a full hard one more-the thought of having to take his meat out of the girl's luscious pussy. "What else?" he insisted, concentrating on her lips...the moist pinkness... the pout... envisoning a cock, his own mighty hard-on, slipping into her face. "Tell me, honey. What... um! What else did they do to you?"
"We... we all came," breathed Diane laboriously. "But it was only the beginning. They only stopped long enough for Mike to push me down on the blanket. Then they were on me again. Fred-he said I owed him for the cunt-lapping. B-but he couldn't decide what he wanted to do. F-first he sucked on my titties like... like y-you're doing now-ow! Then... then he rubbed the tip of his swipe up and down the crack of my ass in the lips of my pussy-sort of playing while the others whacked themselves hard again. Oh! Oh I... I almost died when he asked for the v-v-vibrator again."
John stopped humping. Vibrator? "What vibrator?"
"The driver!" wailed Diane, face crinkling up, as if she were going to cry again. "That horrible, horrible man! He... he had an electric-like thing in the shape of a swipe, and when he turned it on 'n' stuck it up my belly-first in front, then in back, in the car, before they took me outside-it... it... oh, it churned up my in-sides so bad I thought sure I was going to pass out again. And Fred. Oh! Fucking Fred! He... he told the driver to get it when he finally decided what they were going to do to me." Her voice broke; as if the memory of what Fred had done to her, the thought of the vibrator, was too painful to endure.
Now John was perplexed. For a moment he forgot the tightness caressing his prick, the sweet ass grinding beneath him, the nipples hot and hard and twanging, it seemed, against his lips. What in the world could they have done to her that hadn't been done before, he wondered. She'd said it herself, she'd been fucked every fucking whichway! And yet there she was, near tears, grinding, bumping, screwing her pussy up at him, but reluctant to go on with the story.
Before he could ask, put the thoughts into words, Diane said, "F-F-Fred held the vibrator in one hand, his swipe in the other, and owwwwwww! He... he fucked the thing up my asshole at the same time his rod was boring in... into m-my t-t-twat! 'Oh, no! NO! You... you're splitting me open!' I yelled. 'Stop! Please, I'll do anything, only don't turn it on!' But he only laughed. 'You fucking dig it! ' he told me. 'Now, shuddup and-!' He pushed the switch and started the thing moving at the same time his rod pushed the rest of the way up my belly. I yelled. I tried to make him stop. I pleaded and clawed at his face and kicked and strained because the awful thing was churning my insides upside down again like in the car. It... it was too big. B-b-bigger than... bigger than anything! Bigger than yours!" She threw her legs up to his waist, wrapped her arms around his neck, whimpered and began fucking her hot little hairy hole round and round and off and onto his hard dipping cock.
A vibrator! thought John. Why hadn't he thought of that? He didn't have courage enough to invite another man to share his niece, he admitted. But he'd often wondered... was anxious to know what it felt like to have another stiff prick boring into the girl while they screwed. And although a vibrator wasn't exactly the same thing, didn't have the dexterity to improvise which a live dick possessed, it was, or at least he supposed it would be, better than nothing.
Swiftly he glanced about the living room. His gaze settled on the bowl of plastic fruit- Margaret's fruit-on the coffee table. The banana! It was long-a foot long, at least, he estimated-and hard and bowed. And although it wouldn't vibrate, couldn't add the sensation a battery-operated dildo possessed, he could make up for that, he supposed, if he used it just right.
"Get on top," he told the girl, hurriedly unwrapping her legs from his waist, and rolling until her lush little body was astraddle him.
"Oh. Oh, Uncle John. Hurry. Shoot off. Please. Put cum Into me."
"Undo my pants first. Push 'em down my legs."
Diane complied. She pushed the pants down until he was able to kick them off. But the shorts were troublesome, too. Quickly John gripped the fly of the undergarment. With one mighty tug, as if the garment were made of gauze, he shredded and flung the bothersome shorts away. The tender insides of his niece's white upper thighs came gently to rest on his legs. Her hot pussy, without the bulk in the way, nipped down another half inch... greedy for more.
"Fuck me now. Fuck me good, Uncle John. Oh, fuck me! Fuck me!" Face flushed and contorted, chewing her lower lip, Diane raised up suspending her breasts, her nipples, above his face, and wiggled her round behind, her pussy, her wet cunthole, up and down the meat spike in her belly.
John had to force his hips to remain still. He wanted to slam his prick into her, make her cry out as he filled her delectable sheath with thick goo. Instead, he watched her hazel eyes widen as he reached out, groping for the banana. His fingers closed around the yellow monster. It was fatter-maybe too fat-thicker than he'd estimated. But he had to try, had to simulate a dildo, the vibrator she'd told him about, and see what it was like to fuck with another cock reaming out her plump ass.
"Wha...?" Diane gasped as he steered one end of the long piece of plastic to her up-thrusted behind.
"Hold still," he directed.
"N-N-NOOO!"
But he had already found the hot little hole and was pushing, forcing the make-believe dick inch by inch up her quivering bottom. God, she was tight! It went in so slowly he wondered about getting the entire length up between her cute cheeks. But he had to have her that way. Even though she tried to escape by leaning far forward... only making it better... struggling the way she'd fought, he supposed, when the three thugs first got her to the cabin at Palos Verdes. His free hand clamped tight on her ass... fingers deep in the crack above the invading banana.
"Uncle Jooooooooohn!"
He felt the walls of her upper vagina close tight on the glans of his cock; felt the tiny bud inside her cuntlips vibrate against the thick shaft, and knew she was having an orgasm. And then another. And another as he pushed all but a few paltry inches of the banana up her brown velvet chute. He groaned. Inside, along the bowed underside of his joint, he could feel the hard plastic-could feel her rectum, the thin membrane between front and rear passage, twanging like the strings on a violin. He released the banana, left the short end protruding from her gaped open asshole, gripped the trembling halves of her ass, and humped. The force of his drive threw the girl high in the air. She gasped and came down... cunt drawing his stiff meat back in... buttocks already lifting, beginning the upward climb for another downward grind.
"Honey!" he choked. "Christ Jesus, it's good this way. The best, sweetheart. The absolute fucking greatest screw in the whole fucking world."
Diane made an incoherent sound. "I know, baby. You don't have to talk. Just go. Don't... ah! Ahhhhh! D-don't hold back. Fuck it onto me. Move! Make that sweet pussy work."
Willingly Diane obeyed. Raising her hips, so that her cunt was half on, half off his long, veiny prick, she gyrated her ass so fast John thought the cream in his nuts would be whipped when the blast came. Again he gripped the fat plastic banana. Trying to match the girl's insane rhythm, he withdrew cock and plastic, until both almost popped from their sheaths. He waited until she was on the downward grind. Then he slammed the meat in her forebelly and the ersatz meat reaming her rounded behind, as hard and as deep as they'd go.
"Ow! Ow! Owwwwwwwwww!" Diane became a virtual fuck machine. Her hips met his, thrust for thrust. Her white-blonde pussy, sloppy wet now, slurped each time his rod pistoned-dripping its scent, thick cuntjuice, down the length of his sex, over his balls, into the hairy crack of his ass and onto the sofa.
"Fuck, honey," John gasped. "Keep working. Show... show me how you screwed for the boys. The ones in the cabin. The way you seem to like best. Like today. With the boys in the car. How you told me-when one fucked your ass and the other plowed like I'm plowing you now."
"Hummmmmmm!" Diane closed her eyes, bucking, an unbroken yearling. "It... oh, it was so good. I oh! Ohhhhh! Oh, Uncle John, I... I c-c-can't stop com-miiiing!"
John didn't care if she never stopped. He told her so... with his body, his cock. He rammed his hips off the cushions, expecting her to cry out with the force of the jab. But she merely fucked faster. Faster and faster. Leaning forward, she allowed the plastic banana to glide back, and screwed her hot little asshole onto the shit-smeared yellow thing once more. Then down, grinding her cunt, like a corkscrew, again and again onto the bowed length of his member. It was the wildest thing John had ever experienced. He'd never before known a girl like Diane; a girl who appeared so pure, so innocent yet had known-how many? Were there others besides the six boys he knew of? Another carload? Another cabinful? The mere thought enraged him anew. She was his-his beautiful, incestuous little whore-niece, who had done more in a month, learned more about sex, than most women did in a lifetime. And he'd beat her lovely ass raw he decided, if she ever, ever again, gave her pussy away to another.
Anger made him drive the banana too hard, too deep in her rectum. Diane gulped as he lost the short end. "Oh, nooo," she cried. "G-g-get it ooooout!"
John was too close to orgasm to stop. He continued to slam his joint, stiffer than ever before, up her wet cunthole. Forgetting the embedded plastic, putting the problem aside for the exquisite problem inching up from his sacs, he gripped the back of the girl's small blonde head and forced her lips against his. He drove his tongue into her mouth. Holding her ass in one hand, head in the other, he pumped. He pistoned his throbbing dick into the heat, the wetness, the softness, the nipping splendor deep between her spread thighs.
He couldn't get enough of her. He didn't think he'd ever get enough of the pink and white body, the blonde and pink pussy, the little round ass, the big eyes, and the magic of the girl he had tried not to think of that way until the day he walked into the bathroom and realized, admitted to himself, that he'd always wanted to stick a stiff dick in the place, the hot hairy hole, where he now was planting the richest, the strongest, the most fiery cumload his balls had ever produced.
He groaned and strained... sucking her mouth... pressing her hard-tipped breasts to his chest... kneading her succulent ass flesh... and fucked off spurt after spurt of thick, gooey jism. He heard her gasp. Through the fog of orgasm, the delicious warmth of release, he listened to her subdued, deep-throated love noises. And he felt her gyrating again... unmindful of the offensive banana... unconcerned, as unconcerned as he was, with anything except the sensations-the "cum fairies," Margaret had called them-racing one behind the other, in time to the slap-slap-slapping of bare belly against belly.
It ended too soon. John would have been content to lie there pissing cum into her pussy forever. But with the last drop came the familiar limpness of joint, the need to rest. Reluctantly he released the girl's head, her lips. He lay sucking air, allowing his prick to soak, giving it time to grow stiff once more.
For a moment, Diane lay quietly with her head on his chest. Then, when her breathing became normal, when she could speak, she raised up, cocked her head, and asked, "What about...?" She motioned over her shoulder.
John laughed. She was adorable at times. In spite of everything, she had retained the little-girl magic most women lose along with their cherry. "What about what?" he taunted, happy, forgetting for the time being that he would have to go to work in the morning that Diane would be home alone, and perhaps, when he returned, he'd discover she had again given herself to another. Now it was him and her. No one else. Nothing to interfere with the pleasure of intimate banter. "What about fucking what?" he repeated, enjoying the way she scowled, the sweetness of her.
"Oh! The banana," whispered Diane.
John stared at her in mock surprise. "Banana?"
"Darn you, anyway." Diane giggled. "How come you make me so mad, beat me and like that, then-well, how come you can be so nice 'n' dopey, too? The b-a-n-a-n-a! The yellow thing up my butt. You know? Huh?" She wiggled her saucy behind, as if to show him the way.
John sobered. His half-hard dick slipped from her sweet vulva. "Okay," he told her. "On your knees," he commanded.
Diane obeyed. Ass high in the air, thighs apart, she presented the problem for his minute inspection. Reaching back she spread her round, creamy cheeks. "Can... can you see it?" she asked in a small, tremulous voice.
The tip of the plastic banana was like the black nose of a curious puppy peering from the blonde tuft of hair at her anus. "I see it," John said, trying to concentrate... trying not to see the provocative flesh on either side of the objective. And her cunt! The lovely pink slit he'd vacated a moment before! Now, it seemed to wink, to beckon. He leaned close, cupped his hand over her pussy, and placed his open mouth to the puckered brown hole the tip of the banana protruded from.
The girl's hips jerked, the delectable halves of her ass quivered and tightened. "Owwww! Uncle John. Wha... wha...?"
"Shhh!" John sucked. The taste was bittersweet, tangy, like nothing he'd ever tasted before. The smell was strong and to his liking. And her hot little gash was dripping more stink, more taste, into the palm of his hand. He sucked with all his might-joint growing hard, even harder than before, as the offensive banana began to slip from her asshole. He removed his mouth long enough to say, "Press! Work your muscles inside. Push out while I pull."
Then he opened his lips over the tiny aperture once more... sucking and thinking how good it would be-imagining, seeing it inside his head -to stick his stiff dick up her rectum once the shit-smeared banana popped free.
Chapter Eight
It wasn't until she stretched that Diane felt the weight at her ankle, opened her eyes and learned the dream was more than a dream. She stared in wonder at the thing on her leg-half asleep still, unable to believe Uncle John, jealous or not, would resort to chaining to insure she kept her promise about being faithful.
But there was no denying the heavy metal links on her leg. Awed, she sat up and inspected the horrid restraint. It appeared to be a choker. Now she remembered the boxer that had once romped through the apartment, recalled having seen the ugly thing about the dog's neck. Uncle John had spread two links to accommodate a small lock, had secured the chain to her ankle while she slept-exhausted, fucked out from the night before-and had locked the other end, coupled to a longer, "running chain," to the foot of the bed.
Frantic, Diane tugged at the restraint until blisters appeared on her hand. It refused to give. "Oh, nooo!" she wailed, pounding one small fist into the mattress... remembering the cabin... Tony and Sammy and Skeet. It was as if she were back there, secured to the bed, at the mercy of her kidnappers. But now Uncle John was the thug. And she was as much a prisoner here, she realized, as she'd been at the hideout in the cool, green, somehow still appealing Palos Verdes Hills.
It was almost noon when the knock at the front door woke her a second time. Not caring who it was, unconcerned that she wore only panties and that if whoever was knocking answered her plea they'd walk in to feast their eyes on her near-naked body, Diane hollered, "Help! Oh, please, hellllllp!"
From the bed she could see the hall door. She waited expectantly. Who could it be? she wondered as the brass doorknob began to turn. A stranger? Someone tall and handsome, who, upon seeing her, would immediately want to do what everyone seemed to want to do to her? She held her breath... waiting... watching as the door slowly opened.
"Di?" Fred stood, an uncertain grin on his face, with his hand on the doorknob.
Diane scowled. Fucking Fred! She should have known it would be him, should have realized that, after the day before, nothing could keep him away. "In here!" she yelled, knowing what would happen when he entered the bedroom and saw her, but again at his mercy because of Uncle John. She was forever at someone's mercy, it seemed.
Well, it was going to stop! she thought as Fred closed the hall door and started across the living room. She'd decided, while waiting, while lying helpless all morning, she'd run away, if she had to-get a new start, away from it all, where no one knew her.
She watched Fred's face as he stopped beside the bed and stared wide-eyed at the homemade shackle. "Man! What goes on?" he asked.
"Can... can you unlock it?"
Fred sat on the bed sidesaddle. Leaning close, he examined the small lock and the chain. He scratched his thick head of dark hair. Glancing from the choker to her flushed face, he said, "Sure! But who'd you murder?"
Diane began to explain about Uncle John seeing her get out of the car, his jealousy. But almost before the words were out of her mouth, she saw Fred's gaze shift to her bare breasts... then glide down and over her belly, to the puffy V, the hint of dampness, where the semi-transparent panties hugged her pussy. The hand at her ankle began to inch up. She watched the surprise on his face-the momentary confusion at finding her chained like a slave to the bed-become hunger. "F-first get the chain off," she whispered as the hand on her leg touched the tender inside of one upper thigh. Fascinated, she watched the fingers creep toward her crotch. "There... there's a hammer 'n' saw 'n' stuff in... in the cabinet under the s-sink in... in the kitchen," she added, commanding her cunt to be still, to stop twitching, to ignore the hoselike thing beginning to show signs of life in the boy's pantsleg.
"You mean you been chained up like this all day?" asked Fred suddenly.
"Uh-huh."
"Well, shit then! Another little while won't hurt!"
"Oh, don't! Ow!" Diane leaned far forward -hand clamping tight on the one that had reached her crotch and now was kneading her pussy. "T-take the chain off first. I-I... I won't be able to... to move right this way."
"Fuck the chain!" The fingers between her legs found the legband of the panties, slipped beneath.
"Owwwww! Ummm!" Diane hugged his neck. Opening her legs, giving him room, she worked her cuntlips. The probing fingers slipped deep in her wet slit. She offered her mouth-opened and drew his tongue deep inside. She allowed him to press her back, onto the pillows-raise her free leg and began rotating her hips. It was madness! she thought. Sweet madness! But she was by now getting used to the overpowering insanity which took possession of her whenever a man, any man it seemed, came near.
In less than a minute, the boy had the panties off her free leg and bunched at the ankle where the shackle held fast to the bedboard. He paused to undress. Diane watched every move... as she had watched Tony disrobe the first day at the cabin. Her cunt was alive with fresh juice, ready, aching to take the stiff dick she saw spring from his shorts. "Hurry," she told him, reaching with open arms, open thighs.
Kneeling on the edge of the bed, Fred held his long cock in one hand and cupped her pussy with the other. Diane squirmed. Willingly she took hold of his sex. The fingers fucking her cunthole were making her wild. She jerked on his magnificent rod... working the loose outer jacket of skin... thinking how lovely it was... noting the bright bead of lubricant at the aperture in the round, purple-red glans. Impulsively she raised up, on one elbow, and licked the cloudy dewdrop away.
"Yeah man!" breathed Fred. "That's what I like. Suck it, baby. " "Do me, too. Eat my pussy while I suck you off. Like... like you did yesterday." Fred grinned down at her. "You dig it, huh?"
"Um! B-better than anything."
"You ain't seen nothin' yet."
Diane squealed as the boy fell upon her, head between her gaped thighs, mouth wet and open over her tight little love hole. She gasped and threw her pelvis up off the bed... panting while he straddled her face on his knees and pointed his jerking swipe at her lips. She cupped his fat balls. They were heavier this way, hanging down, dangling, she noted. They seemed to be bloated with cream... thick jism waiting to be sucked up and into her mouth.
"C'mon," growled the boy, glancing back at her, momentarily abandoning her pouting cunt-lips. "Take the fucking thing in 'n' stop screwin' around."
"Oh. Oh, don't stop s-s-sucking meeeeee! D-don't stop!" Hurriedly Diane wrapped both tiny hands around the shaft of his rod and steered the smooth, hot head, the pulsing glans, into her face. She moaned. Gulping, working spit up from her throat, she drew the fat fiery tip deep.
"Yeeeeeeah!" Fred drove his hips down... pushing deeper, deeper. "Suck it, babe. Take it all. Every ummmmm! Ah! Every fuckin' inch!"
Gurgling, working the saliva over the bulbous knob, batting her tongue against the vein beating an excited tattoo along the bowed underside, Diane sucked. She released the shaft. Moving her hands over his hips, to the cheeks of his flat, muscular bottom, she gripped and pulled down... taking the delicious meat, all of it, to the coarse hair smelling of sweat, into her mouth. Now she could see his asshole. It was the cutest thing; a winking brown eye in a moon-shaped, grinning face. Suddenly she knew why Uncle John liked that tiny slit best. Impulsively her fingers inched down the crack.
"Arrrrrump!" Fred's hips jerked convulsively as her slender middle finger slipped in his chute the cock in her face dug deeper.
"Ummm! Ea' me. Suc' my pusseeee!" Diane lifted her ass high off the bed, seeking his mouth, his tongue. Noisily she sucked his stiff prick and waited for the first flick of sandpapery fire.
With two fingers on each hand, the boy spread the swollen halves of her vulva. Diane felt his hot breath. Her heart seemed to stop. Her belly grew taut. Forcing her finger deep in his rectum, she drew on the knob of his cock and fucked her blonde wedge up, up... straining to meet the wet dart.
Fred seemed to enjoy making her squirm. He waited until she was half out of her mind with longing, with lust. Then, shafting his dick slowly in and out of her face, his own face dipped down into the gap between her quivering thighs. His tongue lashed out-as the belt Uncle John welded had lashed out the night before-taunting her clit, working its shivery wonder on the sensitive bud. His fingers slipped down into the pinched crack of her ass, searching for the rear entry. Slurping, matching the noises she made, he drew his tongue quickly back and forth across both hot hairy slits.
Moaning, unable to think, to breathe, Diane worked her sphincters, making her asshole suck as her mouth was sucking, and drew a finger up her tight rear chute. She thrashed as the new dart bored in. She twisted, humped. Clamping her teeth at the base of his rod, she drank huge draughts of the stink that hung like a mist at his privates. She fucked her cunt up at him... sucking... sucking as if she were a baby once more, and his cock, the hard thing jerking at the gate to her gullet, contained a specially mixed formula.
"Ah! Oh, man! Ohhhhhhh!" Fred's mouth clamped tight at her cunthole. He blew into her belly. He wiggled, telling her with his hips, his movement, it was time; that she should release the hold her teeth had and allow him to piston.
"Do it!" gasped Diane. She cupped the fat hairy sacs at her chin. Frantically she fucked her finger in and out of his asshole, and worked her own little chute on the finger drilling there. She watched the boy's slick shaft slip out of her face, and grind back. Again she watched it withdraw... pulling back until only the glans was embedded, and lunging. He was coming, she knew. She could feel it inching up from the wrinkled sacs in the palm of her hand. Growing stronger. Forming a knot at the roots of the meat in her face.
Fred gurgled something unintelligible into her nipping gash. Suddenly he threw his legs back. His weight came down on her. Alternately blowing into and sucking air from her vulva, he ground his pelvis, the coarse, brushing cockhair, the thick throbbing roots of his sex, into her mouth.
"Hummmmmmm!" Diane gulped the first gob of goo. Now she clamped her lips tight again... holding him trapped... working her throat muscles... coaxing the stuff from his rod. She was being smothered, choked on the outside by the boy's weight, and by cum within. But she didn't care about that. She didn't care about anything except the thick jism pouring off in her face, gliding down, coating her gullet with rapid spurts of fire.
Forgetting the restraint at her ankle, she tried to wrap her thighs about the boy's head. The chain caught-shot pain through her leg. But she didn't care about that, either. She wiggled her ass further down on the bed. Until there was slack enough in the tether. Until Uncle John's jealousy no longer restricted her from snaking her anxious thighs over the shock of dark hair, the face, the mouth, the tongue burrowing in the wet grotto at her crotch.
"Um! Ummm! UMMMMMMMMM!" Her cunthole was shooting off sparks, it seemed... breathing, snapping at the sandpapery thing washing her clit, pushing her toward orgasm. She threw her hips wide, twisting, rolling her lower body from side to side, as if she were competing for the Hula-hoop championship of Southern California. "Don't stop!" she cried as the dick in her face stopped pissing good cream.
Fred pumped faster, jerking his meat in and out in spite of her teeth, apparently trying to raise another cumload, to accommodate her. But his cock seemed to be momentarily fucked out. It began to grow limp, to list, hang from her mouth like a fat, overcooked spaghetti.
"Oh!" Suddenly Diane recalled something she'd recently read about prostate glands. She blinked at his asshole. It was up there somewhere-where her finger was digging. She wiggled her fingertip.
"Arrr! ARRRRRRRRRRH!" The glans of Fred's cock pulled back into the loose outer jacket, held for a moment, and-like the head of a jackhammer-pelleted fresh semen into her mouth.
Again Diane sucked with all her might. Working her middle finger high in his rectum, gyrating her ass, her pussy, she greedily drank the hot cum blasting in time to the electric sensations racing up her spine. But her pussy wanted more. More than a tongue. There was no satisfying the little white-blonde wedge, she admitted. No way to still the need in her belly for longer than it took to climb from one long, stiff swipe, to the next. She didn't care. Not anymore. She didn't care because there was nothing so good, so exciting, as fucking.
As if having read her thoughts, as if having deciphered the code of gyrations in her twisting hips, Fred slipped his hard cock from her mouth. It came out with a soft, popping sound. Cum oozed down her chin. "Now let's screw," the boy told her, rearranging his body, repositioning his glistening rod between her full thighs. "Lift your knees," he directed, steering the fat purple-red glans to her pink slit. "Fuck! Open that pretty cunt 'n' do your thing!"
She didn't have to be told, not anymore. She knew what he wanted, knew exactly how to best please a man and herself. Sobbing, making the tiny noises deep in her throat-the sound which was becoming her love language, it seemed- she raised her legs, dropped her knees wide, and took the slippery length of his prick up her pussy. She felt his weight come down on her belly, sighed. Her arms encircled his shoulders. She offered her cum-sticky lips; began the slow, taunting, rhythmic fuck motion that would bring them to orgasm once more.
"Like this?" she whispered, teasing, working her cunt muscles, her thighs.
"Man!"
"Then fuck me!" she told him. "Don't talk! Kiss me 'n' screw!"
Later, after the boy had filled her cunthole with the goo still lingering in her mouth, they rested. Fred lay on his back, eyes closed, arms wide, sucking huge draughts of breath into his lungs. She watched his chest heave. Her gaze traveled the length of his muscular body, paused at the wiry cockhair surrounding his swipe. It was an absurd-looking thing, she decided. Limp, it appeared to be nothing more devastating than an eleventh, misplaced finger. Yet even now she could imagine it hard, standing tall, pulsing, and ready to shoot another thick gush of cream. Her gaze settled on the homemade shackle she'd all but forgotten. She touched Fred's thigh. She watched his eyes open. Rattling the chain, she asked, "What about...?"
Fred grinned. "Nothing to it."
She watched him rise from the bed and pad barefoot toward the kitchen. She sat up, jiggled the chain and thought about Uncle John. She loved him, true. But she couldn't go on being chained to one bed and one man. In the month since the cabin, and especially in the past few days, she'd learned that much; that her pussy, since the first penetration, craved more cock than one man could supply. The insatiable drives were confusing, all tangled up in knots inside her head. But she knew if she stayed Uncle John would become more and more jealous, more and more demanding, and she'd never unravel the mess. There was nothing to do but run... get away somewhere by herself and think things out.
Fred was back in a moment with a handful of unidentifiable gadgets from Uncle John's tool chest. Leaning forward, elbows propped on her knees and chin resting in the cradle of her hands, she watched him sit, lift her leg, and drop her pink foot into his lap. His gaze shot up to the hairy V between her thighs. "I don't blame your fucking uncle," he told her. "Man! If I had a niece like you!"
Diane sniffled. She supposed Fred was right. She supposed anyone, any man, would be anxious to get and keep his hands on her well-rounded young body. She was learning that about herself, too, that her cute little round ass, her titties, her thighs, and legs and what nestled between, were a passport to pleasure. And her rare white-blonde wedge seemed to be a delight to every beholder.
"There!" Fred lifted the chain from her slim ankle. He cupped her wet pussy. His finger slipped in. "All that work made me hungry," he said. "Got something to eat? A hot blonde fur-burger, maybe?"
Diane fell with him onto the pillows. It was late. Uncle John would be getting home in less than an hour, she knew. But there was time. Time for another quick sixty-nine: another stiff spitting swipe before she decided where to run to.
Chapter Nine
The cabin was the logical choice. Diane remembered the big cupboard stocked with canned food left behind the day Tony and the others were taken into custody. She remembered also the quiet isolation-the woods, the trees, the highway like a concrete snake curled sleeping at the foot of the steep rise the cabin looked down from. Skeet had said the hideout belonged to his folks, but he and Greta were the only ones who used the place nowadays. Now, with the thugs in jail, she supposed she'd have the four rooms to herself-could stay as long as she liked, thinking, living off the foodstuffs and the little money she'd managed to save in the short time she'd worked at Uncle John's store. With these thoughts in mind, Diane set out to hitchhike to Palos Verdes.
In tight yellow bellbottoms and a matching halter, and a small overnight bag containing two changes of clothes and cosmetics, she had no trouble getting a ride. The trouble came when the driver-a rotund, balding businessman, whose cock had begun to rise immediately when she stepped into the car-suggested she move closer and "be nice to him." Diane refused. The man bristled and tried to maul her. Next thing she knew she was walking the last lonely miles.
It was dark and she was exhausted when at last she reached the road leading up through thick brush to the cabin. There was a chill in the air. She shivered. Envisioning the thick warm mattress where Tony had raped her the first time, she summoned the strength to climb the steep road. Would there be lights, she wondered. Electricity? Or had the police, or perhaps the utilities companies, turned off the lights and water and whatever else they took back when the bills weren't paid? The thought frightened her. She didn't think she'd be able to persuade herself to stay long in a dark lonely cabin.
To Diane's astonishment, as if someone had anticipated her fears, she saw lights in the cabin. She stopped at the top of the road. Had Skeet lied, she wondered. Did the place belong to someone else, after all? "Oh, darn!" Now a new fear engulfed her. She was too tired to walk back to the highway and begin hitchhiking again. And even if she somehow mustered the courage, the strength, there was no place to go except back to Uncle John. "Oh, darn! Darn!" she blurted, eyeing the cabin with envy, thinking how pleasant, how warm, it must be inside, and knowing she'd never summon the moxie to approach the door and present herself to strangers.
Stifling a sob, a mixture of anger and regret, she parked her butt on a huge cold rock beside the road. Chewing her lower lip, wondering who the man was at the window, she stared longingly at the place she'd never in her wildest dream expected to return to.
Inside the cabin, Tony squinted through the window at the blurred yellow figure crouching at the far end of the drive. He frowned. "Hey, Skeet."
Lazily Skeet joined him at the window. Both men stared at the motionless yellow blob until Sammy, playing strip poker with Greta, literally losing his shirt, pushed his chair back and asked, "What the fuck's goin' on? Fuzz?"
Tony scowled darkly back at him. "We're clean, stupid. They got no kick; us being out on bail."
"Too small for fuzz," observed Skeet. "Looks like a chick. Hey!" He brightened. "Maybe it's the wood fairy!"
"Maybe it's your Aunt Tessie," grumbled Sammy.
"My Aunt Tessie's a good cunt," countered Skeet. "She's home humpin' right now."
They parried and watched the motionless figure for several minutes before Tony decided to sneak out the back door, flank the drive, and come up behind whoever was spying on them. Without mentioning his scheme, he left the others at the window. He paused in the kitchen for a flashlight before stepping out into the cool night air, and deep, woodland shadows.
Diane was doing her best to hold it in. But she had to pee so bad she could no longer think of anything else. Leaving her overnight bag at the side of the road, she scurried into the thick brush, quickly undid her bells, pushed pants and panties down to her knees, and squatted. She sighed relief as the stream gushed from her pussy. But she had barely begun when the bright beam of light fell upon her, made her gasp and jump up-pissing all over her clothes. Someone wolf-whistled. The circle of light advanced from out of the brush.
"Who... who is it?" squeaked Diane, face burning with shame, trying unsuccessfully to shimmy the sopping wet garments up over her nakedness. There was no answer. The light continued to advance until she could see the broad-shouldered figure of a man behind it. Frightened, expecting the worst, she stepped back to find to her horror she could move only in mincing steps with the icky clothes bunched at the top of her thighs. Her foot encountered a rock. She was bending for the weapon when a deep, scratchy, familiar voice brought her up short.
"I'll be goddamned," laughed the voice. "My little blonde pussy's back. And already she's got 'er pants down 'n' ready to screw."
Diane couldn't believe her ears. "T-T-Tony?" Suddenly the flashlight went out. She almost screamed. Instead, she lifted one hand to her mouth, held her breath, and waited for... for... for the rough hand that finally cupped at her crotch, unmindful of the pussy hair and clothes, and the other hand that pressed her buttocks forward.
"Jesus!" groaned Tony, kneading her ass flesh, her puffy pubic mound. "I almost forgot how soft you are. But now I remember why I snatched you in the first place." His middle finger slipped smoothly up her cunthole.
Oh God! thought Diane. What had she done? Could it be possible? Had she actually delivered herself-like a lamb to the slaughter- into the hands of the brute who'd started it all-the cause of the confusing knots inside her head? "Oh, no. Not again," she whispered, not knowing why, not at all disturbed by the tingles the finger stabbing her pussy was causing.
"I knew you liked it," said Tony. "Even the first time yer fuckin' cunt was as tight as a closed clam, but you hardly let out a peep once I was in. But Christ! Who'd ever guess you'd be back?" Pulling her close, he began to rub the half-hard bulge in his pantsleg against one naked thigh.
Diane tried not to think about the perversions Tony had subjected her to. But the thing rubbing her leg was bringing back visions of four days of screwing, and belts, and tongues. A squirt of hot pee burst from her cuntlips. "Ow-ow-owwwwwww," she breathed, horrified that someone, particularly Tony, should witness that most private function.
Tony seemed not to notice or care that she had pissed on his hand. Slipping his finger from her sheath, he cupped the underside of both plump cheeks of her ass. "Take out my cock," he told her. "We'll put something up there for a plug. So you won't have to pee."
Diane hesitated. But she knew there was no sense in resistance; no mercy in Tony. He'd merely take her, she knew-use her body as he and the others had done for four terrible, seemingly endless days.
The others! It suddenly dawned in her mind that if Tony had returned to the cabin, Sammy and Skeet and Greta must be there, too.
"Take it out!" growled Tony, driving the bulge in his pantsleg into the space atop and between her naked young thighs.
Obediently Diane's hand flew to his fly. Quickly, but with trembling fingers, she worked the zipper. She was lost, she realized; a slave since the day the three thugs walked into Uncle John's store. But as her hand fumbled inside the pants, found and closed around his stiffening dick, caressed the fat glans and moved slowly up and down the long shaft, she felt pleasure, not revulsion. Pleasure in the knowledge that good cum was waiting in the wrinkled sacs her fingers grazed with each stroke of her hand. Pleasure in anticipation. Sheer joy in the knowledge that soon they'd be fucking.
Pushing the piss-soaked slacks and panties down her legs, Tony told her to step out of the garments. Again she obeyed. He walked her backward, guiding the soft halves of her ass to rough bark of a tree. "Now put it in for me," he told her. "Up yer cunt! Let's fuck before the others find out you're here."
Unable to resist, not wanting to anymore, Diane whimpered and steered the plumb-shaped knob of his swipe to her cuntlips. She set it in place. Spreading her thighs, leaning back, using the tree for support, she began to work her pussy taking him in... drawing the tip of his long veiny prick up her hot little hole. "Oh G-God!" she gasped, coming already, head spinning.
Tony wasn't gentle. But he had never been gentle, Diane recalled as he grunted and squeezed her plump ass and fucked himself into her. His cock seemed less big now, less awesome. She supposed that was because Uncle John's long rigid rod was fatter and more handsome by inches. Yet the one digging into her sex was no piker. It grated across her hard clit with as much delicious sensation as any she'd had. It burrowed up, up... all the way up her pulsing vagina. It jerked and throbbed. It breathed inside her. "Yes!" she heard herself saying. "Oh, yes! Yessssssssss!"
Moving his hands under her buttocks, taking a firmer grip, Tony's strong arms lifted the weight off her legs. "Ummra!" he groaned. "Put um! Ahhhhhh! Put yer legs up. Around my waist. It's-mother, you're so fucking tight! It's good fucking like that-standing with you like a sweet Kewpie doll on a stick."
"It... it won't work. I'll fall."
"Get 'em up!" Tony's fingernails dug cruelly into the tender halves of her ass.
"Owwwwwwwwww!" Tentatively, Diane raised one trembling leg. Then, using the tree for support, in answer to the rough hands splayed on her bottom, she threw the other leg up and locked her ankles. The cock up her belly seemed to grow longer and plant its hot jerking tip deeper than any had ever before invaded.
"Now fuck," sighed Tony, the hardness gone from his face. He made the deep-throated pleasure sounds she remembered. His fingers slipped into the open crack of her ass. One found the rear entry. "M-make that sweet blonde pussy bite," he hissed, twisting a smaller dart up her rectum. "I ain't had none this good in so fucking long it .. it... oh, girlie! Sweet little girl girlie! Fuck!"
"I love you," breathed Diane, knowing he was beyond hearing, beyond caring what she said, but wanting nonetheless to express the emotions his hands, his big pulsing dick, were stirring. Her body felt light, charged with electricity, more alive than ever before. Her tight cunthole snapped. Her puckered asshole sucked his finger. For a moment she wished the halter was off so she could feel the texture, the scratch of his shirt against her taut, aching nipples. She wished he was nude. She wished Sammy would find them, as he had done the first day more than a month before, and come up behind to put a stiff prick in where the finger taunted her rectum. It was as if the month between her rescue and now had never happened. She was his again. His to defile, to debase, to degrade, and shame and violate in any way he chose.
"Faster!" demanded Tony. "Fuck faster! Screw that sweet cunt aroun' like there's no tomorrow!" Planting his feet wide apart, giving himself more room, more leverage, he began to hump the length of his rod in and out of her pussy... slamming her soft round buttocks against the rough bark of the tree... grunting with each lunge... hurting... bruising.
"Humhhhhmm!" Diane felt only the bliss, the fire, the friction of the dick stoking her furnace. She wiggled-fucking with all her might, mind and body untied to bring him to orgasm. "I'll never forgot you," she sobbed. "The... the first time. The ohah! The way you took me. The rape. Even with... even when someone else fucked me. No matter who it was I thought about you. It... oh, Tony! Oh G-God!" She felt the knob of his mighty cock swell and jerk in the slippery depths of her sheath-fucked her hips, her cunthole, even faster. "You... you were on my mind all the time. Your dick! The way it shoots off. The... the way you hurt me. The t-things you and the others made me do. Fucking! Fucking and sucking and oww! OWWW! Oh, do it, Tony. Do it! Doit!" Wrapping her arms tight at his neck, tightening her legs at his waist, she rested her head in the crook at his shoulder and gyrated furiously.
Pulling far back, Tony slammed into her. Sweat broke on his brow as his long veiny dick dipped again and again in her hot juicy hole. The pants were a hindrance. But even through the material Diane could feel his big hairy balls growing tense with the force of the cum-load her tight cunt was coaxing. The hands on her ass pulled her close with each forward stab, forcing her onto him. The brass teeth of the zipper at his fly bit into her vulva, her thighs. But she felt only the exquisite driving goodness, only the thrust of his swipe.
"Ba-beeeeeee!" Tony sought her moist, parted lips. Their mouths fused. His tongue began to piston in time to his cock and the finger fucking her asshole. Then suddenly the dick in her belly stopped pistoning. It held at the roots. The hands on her bottom became cruel steel claws. She gasped. Batting her inner cunt muscles on the vibrating shaft, she sucked his tongue and held her breath in anticipation of the first thick gush of cream.
It seemed to take forever. Her lungs, she was certain, were going to burst through her chest and leave her firm little pink-tipped breasts shredded like blowouts in an old rubber inner tube. She worked her ass frantically; bumping, grinding, milking the fat glans of his magnificent cock... the meat she had dreamt about since her rescue... the wonderful big veiny joystick that had busted her cherry.
The first nugget of jism geysered into her. Tony gasped spit tasting of tobacco and what she supposed was the stale flavor of alcohol, into her mouth. Moaning, pinching his waist in the vise of her thighs, and kneading his spitting dick in the tighter, hotter, silkier vise of her vagina, Diane gulped the saliva-as if it were semen. She squealed and made her cunt suck his thick cream. She felt it glide down the walls of her sheath... out, searing the puffy pink lips of her pussy, and dripping wet and sticky down the crack of her ass. She sucked his foul-tasting mouth. She worked her stomach... making it ripple... making the ripples spread through her sex until the tiny hard-on within, her sensitive clit, began to fire the love lights, the multicolored glare, the thrill, the fireworks of orgasm bursting like Chinese New Year's inside her head.
Panting, Tony rested. Until the last gooey spurt of love-juice had dripped down her crotch. Until the world came back into focus for Diane. Finally, the hardness, the cruelty returning to his face, he said, "That was good, baby. You learned a few things since last time. Now put your legs down."
Diane recognized the tone Tony had used previously when about to subject her to his most perverse desires; the tone Sammy and Skeet and Greta had used when wielding the belt. Quickly she obeyed... knowing she had no choice... knowing he'd make her comply, hurt her, if she displayed the slightest resistance. Her thighs were weak. She held tight to his neck to keep from falling. What would he do to her now, she wondered, heart thumping, shivering in anticipation.
Abruptly Tony slipped his dick-still stiff, covered with white smelly gook-from her cunt-hole. "Now on yer knees!" he ordered. "Let's see if yer sweet little mouth learned anything about cock-sucking since last time!"
Sammy and Skeet were preparing to go outside in search of Tony when the back door opened and the bright yellow blur from End of the drive stepped inside the cabin. Tony followed close behind. He grinned. "Look what I found," he said and nudged Diane forward. Sammy and Skeet stared. Diane felt their lustful gazes boring into the dampness at the crotch of her bellbottoms. A shiver of excitement raced through her body. She blushed. That she and Tony had been making love was obvious, she knew. And she could almost read the thoughts behind the eyes ogling her-get those slacks off her ass! Let's see if that little blonde pussy has changed any! Our turn! Our fucking turn!
Greta, who had been sitting in bra and shorts at the folding card table, came forward with the half-jealous, half-friendly grin Diane remembered on her dark, pixy face. The two exchanged curious glances-the thirteen-year-old, Diane supposed, wondering what had brought her back to the place where she'd been subjected to abuses that would make a normal girl cringe. But I'm not a normal girl anymore! thought Diane. I haven't been normal since the day Tony put his big dick up my hole!
Suddenly Greta smiled. Stepping close, she took the overnight bag from Diane's hand, set it down in a corner, and placed her own little fingers in the warmth the handle had vacated. "We needed another girl," she said, indicating the deck of cards scattered about the small heap of clothes on the table. "And-" she cocked her head and looked impishly up from a two-inch discrepancy in height-"well, I'm glad it's you instead of someone else."
The four spent the next fifteen minutes explaining to Diane about the bail that had been arranged through Skeet's influential parents. True, they might go to jail eventually, Tony said. And Greta had missed being placed in a foster home by the "skin of her teeth!" But they would remain free on bail 'til the trial, months away. And, Tony further explained, because they were first offenders, and because of the big money Skeet's father was liberally salting on ruffled feathers in all the right places, they might beat the rap altogether.
After a few minutes of prying, Diane explained her reason for running away; told how she had opened her eyes that morning to find Uncle John's homemade shackle and dog chain securing her to the bedboard.
Leering, echoing Fred, Skeet murmured, "Can't blame the ole geezer for that!"
Greta cast him a dark sidelong glance. She opened her mouth, as if to protest, as if to tell her brother her little midnight black pussy was the only hot hairy hole he'd get his dick into this night. Sammy came to the rescue. "So now we can finish our game. Five-handed draw. Two cunts. Cool!"
Diane had never before played strip poker. But it appeared simple enough. Until the first hand was dealt, she lost with three jacks, and one of her shoes joined the heap of clothes on the table. But she didn't really care about losing. The pissy slacks were uncomfortable-stank and were stuck deep in the crack of her ass. And she knew what was going to happen, knew the goal of the game once the garments were shed.
It took less than five minutes to get her down to wet panties and halter. Then Greta lost three hands in a row, shed her bra, shorts and panties. And Sammy-dealing from the bottom of the deck, Diane could see-his boxer shorts the only garment remaining, explained that, once stripped, the player with the lowest hand was at the mercy of the one with the highest spread.
The room grew silent. Diane felt lightheaded. Beside her, Skeet, the head of his stiff swipe held in check by the elastic waistband of the shorts that were his last garment also, reached beneath the table and touched her knee. She glanced sharply at Greta. But the younger girl now was absorbed in the cards she held and didn't seem to notice her brother's strong, curious fingers... inching higher and higher... closer and closer to the curly white-blonde wedge he hadn't fucked a dick into since the day of her rescue.
"Two pair!" announced Greta confidently.
Sammy laughed. One by one he spread his cards on the table. They were all spades, ten to ace. He took out his prick, stroked it until it stood tall. "Sit on my lap," he said as the other hands, all higher than the dark-haired girl's two pair, fell.
Greta scowled. "Fucking creep cheat bastard!"
"Rules're rules!" growled Tony.
Greta pouted. Reluctantly she stood, giving them a glimpse of an adorable, tiny, pink-slitted black wedge. Her dimpled behind settled in Sammy's lap at the same time the hand on Diane's inner thigh reached the legband of the panties.
Clamping her thighs tight on the dart tickling her clit, Diane watched Tony lean toward Sammy and screw his middle finger up Greta's cunthole. The younger girl grimaced and squirmed. Sammy hugged her close. His calloused hands covered her big-nippled, little-girl breasts. "Iiiiiiiii!" the girl breathed, squirming as Sammy lifted, centered the tip of his rod, and let her gaped open cheeks slowly down on the fiery stake.
Diane could almost feel the dick sliding up her tight asshole. The expression on Greta's flushed face, the noises she made as the poker penetrated, made the insides of her own rectum contract... just as if Sammy were reaming her. The miniature spike in her forebelly became more insistent. She gasped and leaned forward, pressing the hand, Skeet's fingers, into her sex. She watched Sammy fuck the younger girl's cute little behind, saw Tony bend, face close to the ebony curlicues, and wished Skeet would take his finger away, loose the fat glans of the cock protruding from the top of his shorts, and fuck it as fast as he could up her dripping pussy.
Apparently Skeet read her thoughts. For while Tony and Sammy went to work in earnest on the dark-haired girl, making her thrash, cry out in ecstasy, he leaned close, lips to her ear, and whispered, "C'mon babydoll. Get those panties off 'n' make like Sis. On my lap!"
Diane hesitated only long enough to ascertain that Greta was too involved, too content with the swipe in her rectum and the tongue washing her vulva, to care what her brother was doing. The younger girl had thrown her legs wide, she noted. Now, when she raised up in preparation of grinding herself down the lengthy meat in Sam's lap, Diane could see the shit-smeared cylinder of stiffness digging between the tense tender halves of the girl's adorable ass. Her breath caught. Eyes glazed, gaze riveted to the scene, she rose from the chair, pushed the panties off her hips, down her thighs, and stepped out of the pissy undergarment. As if mesmerized, as if already impaled by the big dick causing such obvious pleasure in the dark-haired girl, she waited while Skeet stripped off the shorts. Then she allowed herself to be steered onto his lap, allowed herself to be turned to face him, felt her thighs' being spread and willingly straddled his legs. Her hand shot out and captured his cock and guided the bloated red tip to the pulsating pink pocket below her hot and curly, anxious, white-blonde wedge.
"Owwwwwwwww!" She felt the glans penetrating... going deeper, deeper. She held the thick shaft and fucked herself down, pleading, telling him with her hips, her buttocks, her tight nipping pussy, to drive the whole of his lovely member up her belly.
"Easy, baby. Christ! You sure learned how to please a guy since last time I shoved my meat in you. But... ah! Ah fuck-go easy! Slow! You... ah! You'll make me pop off before I get the fucking thing halfway in."
Diane couldn't speak. The fire from the tip of his rod had reached her throat. And she couldn't go slow, either. She couldn't do anything except what she now was doing... grinding her hips, her tight cunthole, onto his big hard cock. Her fingers yanked at the roots of the monster, hand trying to push the meat deeper while her pussy pulled, sucked. It was so good! she thought elated. So breathtaking to watch and listen to fucking, to hear the slurp of a tongue, while a swipe-any swipe so long as it was long and rigid and capable of spitting-was being humped up her hot little gash.
Tony stood. His mouth, the whiskers on his chin, glistened with cuntjuice. Whipping his dick from the fly of his pants, he held it and stepped close to the girl in Sam's lap. "Your turn!" he told her. "Suck!"
Diane watched the younger girl form a wide 0 with her lips, watched Tony step closer and fill the moist space with the knob of his tool. She heard Greta gurgle. Rising up, almost standing, she sobbed and drove herself down the length of the prick in her belly... watching, all the time eyeing the other big prick, the one that had fucked her and planted cum in her face less than an hour before, disappear into the dark, young pixy face. "Oh God. Oh Mother of Jesus, I... I..."
"What? Lemme hear it," said Skeet.
"I wanna suck! I... I..." Whining, unable to finish what she'd begun to say, not sure what it was, she mashed her open lips to Skeet's mouth. She waited for his tongue. When it shot forward, she caught it between her teeth, held and sucked-as she had sucked Tony's tongue earlier, as if it were the tip of a swipe. Her own brazenness astonished her. She knew, when it was over, once the cum gave her momentary release, she'd feel the tongue of shame lick her cheeks with fire. But now she cared only about the tongue in her mouth, and the rigid rod, the dick, swabbing her vulva. She couldn't stop. Couldn't stop lifting her ass and forcing her cunthole down. Couldn't help savoring the delicious friction caused by the beautiful man-meat digging in the slippery folds of her sheath. Couldn't stop fucking, fucking, fucking as Tony had directed, like there was no tomorrow!
"Ah! Ahhhhhhhhhh!" Wrapping his arms tight about her waist, hugging the breath from her lungs, Skeet groaned into the moist warmth of her mouth and pumped his stiffness up off the chair. Across from them, the chair rocking from the girl's frantic gyrations, Sam and Greta and Tony were reaching orgasm simultaneously. The noises they made-particularly the dark-haired girl's loud, greedy sucking-shoveled fresh coal onto the fire burning in Diane. A soothing, gauzy warmth absorbed her. She tore her lips from Skeet's and watched the room, Tony and Sammy and Greta, spin. The window behind them, the door, the card table and heap of clothing seemed to sway with their tense limbs. Her body was a metabolism apart from it all. It rose and fell, twisted and strained, bucked and wiggled and rippled. "Kiss my tits!" she told Skeet, lifting the halter to bare her bright pink nipples. "Suck 'em! Bite! Hurt meee!"
Setting a steady fuck rhythm, a motion designed to bring them over the brink, Skeet mouthed one hard little rosebud. His teeth clamped tight. "Umram! Tastes good. A cherry on top of whipped cream. Everything-" he paused to run loving hands along the inside of her alabaster thighs-"about you is whipped cream. Good enough to eat. Ummmmmm!" Nipping the tip of her tit, he shook his head like a dog drying itself.
"Oh, yes! Yes! Suck it! B-b-bite!" Diane heard Greta's gurgle of satisfaction as Tony humped jism into her sweating, little-girl face. She heard Sammy gritting his teeth, making the chair rock back and forth on its legs, interspersing the sounds with grunts as he planted cum in Skeet's sister. And she heard Skeet lapping her nipples now, his slick rod slurping in and out of the juicy gash between her wide-spread thighs. She trapped his meat, held the knob embedded, and strained for the nut she knew was climbing the pole toward the tiny aperture breathing within her vagina.
"Com-ah! AHHH! I... I'm come-come-com-ing!" Skeet's teeth sank deep in her tender nipple.
"Ow! Ow-ow!-ow-owwwwww!" blubbered Diane from the pain and the jet blasting off up her pussy. The hot fluid spewed from the glans of his cock, seeped down the shaft using her cunthole, touched her clit and sent tremors through her white, quivering thighs.
Coming! she thought. The whole world-the cabin walls, the overhead light, the table, the chairs. There were lovely dicks everywhere. Wonderful joysticks spitting good cream. Semen. Buckets and buckets of thick goo. All of it, every last delicious drop, it seemed, was gushing into her twat, filling her to overflowing with the stuff she desired.
It was late. They'd eaten and slept, and now, she and Greta alone in the bed where Tony had given her the first wondrous taste of screwing, Diane heard the men-no! Mere boys! They weren't much older than her, she'd learned- moving about in the next room, talking in whispers. She glanced about the dark bedroom. They'd mended the window, she noted. A clear pane, the only one not flecked with rainspots, looked out on a skyful of stars. A smiling moon cast a bright yellow mist atop the trees-the branches black fingers fading into the night.
She glanced from the window to the small girl asleep on her side, curled like an infant beside her. She studied the calm pixy face. Now, in sleep, it was difficult to believe this child was the same wildcat she'd watched making love a few hours before. Her immature body seemed incapable of withstanding the brutal thrust of a man.
Diane stretched and sighed. Her body was sore, bruised from Uncle John, Fred that afternoon, and Skeet's pounding. Lately it seemed she did nothing but screw. She'd run away to think, to sort things out, she reminded herself. Yet there she was-nude, the cum hard in the hair of her pussy, and the boys, the three pricks that would come sniffing her sex before sunrise, she knew, in the next room. But she cared not at all. Even the ache in her limbs, the stiffness of back when she stretched, were pleasant memory triggers. Each bruise held the image of another stiff cock.
She turned toward the dark girl asleep beside her. The big-nippled breasts made her mouth water. For a moment she wished she were a man; the possessor of a long, veiny swipe, a hard tool capable of spitting thick cream in the midnight black wedge between the girl's slim young thighs. Impulsively, she reached out. Her thumb and forefinger closed on one bright pink nipple. She snuggled closer. Her free hand slipped down the younger girl's flat belly, paused. The ebony curls were wiry-like cock-hair! she decided. Not at all like the silky white-blonde wedge atop and between her own fuller thighs.
Greta stirred. Diane waited breathlessly for the minx to settle into slumber once more. Now there was a new, stranger, more demanding compulsion within her. Her fingers moved through the coarse hair... to the slight indentation... to the sweet dip announcing the delightful split in the hot little black pussy beside her. Moving closer still, close enough to mouth the nipple she'd teased erect, she slipped one fingertip cautiously up between the girl's cuntlips.
"Urn, Skeet. Ummm!" cooed Greta.
The girl was dreaming, Diane knew, dreaming of her brother's dick in her belly. The thought excited her. She sucked harder on the dark girl's miniature tittie. Lately everything illicit aroused her, it seemed. She worked her finger deeper... searching for the sensitive bud within the tight sheath. God! Was her own cunt that close, she wondered. It seemed impossible that the swipe that had drilled her love hole earlier, Skeet's bloated penis, could penetrate the fiery little gash her finger was probing. Yet she knew better... knew the fantastic elasticity of her own vulva, and had seen the younger girl take as much as a man had to give.
"Ow. Ow, Sammy." Abruptly Greta rolled onto her back. Her short legs flew open. She moaned and lay still. Diane gasped at the sight of the vulnerable young body lying open before her. Now she could understand why Tony, why Uncle John, why the others had looked at her with burning desire. Her own pussy pulsed. Her nipples stood tall. She slipped further down on the bed... down to where a shaft of moonlight cut across the black wedge... down to where she could peer into the wet slit her finger was fucking.
For a moment, positioned between the girl's widespread thighs, face close to the pinkness so like yet unlike her own, Diane was content to smell and explore with her eyes. But soon Greta began to thrash-the excited love dance Diane knew so well-in her sleep. Her narrow hips rose to meet the dipping finger. Her breathing quickened.
Diane couldn't resist any longer. Grinding her hips, her cunt, into the rumpled sheets and wool blanket, she inched closer. The younger girl's pussy was exquisite. There was just enough light to see the bud standing like a sober watchman inside the pouting lips. The black hair, almost blue black, shiny, short and springy, was a perfect frame for the aperture. And the smell! The aroma was unlike her own gentle fragrance. This was a stronger, fishy stink, which was at once repulsive and appealing. "Oh God!" she moaned into the breach, ashamed of her uncontrollable desires. She withdrew her finger. "I m-mustn't!" she said. "I mustn't! Oh, I mustn't!"
But her mouth, ignoring the words it spoke, thick with saliva, opened and covered the sweet little cunthole dripping goo down the deep crack of Greta's ass. She gulped. The taste was intoxicating. She recalled how Fred and Uncle John had blown hot air up her pussy. She drank deep of the stink, the tangy flavor, and blew with all her might up the girl's flat belly.
"Owwwwww!" Greta tried to sit up. "Hey!
Wha...?"
Diane lifted her face from the sweetness she'd been sucking. "I... I c-c-couldn't help it," she choked, throat full of cuntjuice, embarrassment flooding her cheeks. "It... you... I just... oh, darn! You were so lovely 'n' all. I... I just couldn't... I mean oh! Oh, darn it, anyway!" Tears sprang into her eyes and rolled hot down her cheeks.
Greta studied her for a moment. Finally she giggled. "It's okay," she said in a small, appealing voice. "Skeet eats me all the time. The others, too. All of them. I... I guess I sorta like it. You can if you want to. I... I like you, too."
Diane hugged the girl's hips. As suddenly as it had come, the attack of conscience, of revulsion, was gone. Now she felt only passion. Lust. A need. A compulsion to do something... something dirty! Quickly she placed her mouth over the juicy gap it had vacated, sucked.
"Ummmmmm!" Greta pumped her hips off the bed. "I... I like that. But you should let me eat you, too. Like... owwwwww! Like turn around. We... ah! We can do like I do Skeet. Sixty-nine. It's ohoh! It's no fun unless I'm sucking, too."
Quickly Diane obliged. Straddling the younger girl's face, knees wide on either side of the dark head, she lowered her cunt and dove back into the heated pocket between Greta's slim, white, bathed in moonlight thighs. Her tongue lashed out at the same moment a wet dart parted the lips of her pussy. "Oh, y-y-yes!" she sobbed. "Ohhhhh!"
They had barely begun when the door crashed back against the jamb, and Sammy-hands on hips, limp cock, like a hunk of bleached rubber, dangling from the open fly of his shorts-appeared at the foot of the bed. "Our two cunts're at it fer true," he blurted. "Holy fuckin' mother! Hey, guys! Get in here 'n' fuckin' lookit this!"
Diane's tongue leaped from the other girl's black pussy. Too late! Even before she could wipe the goo from her face, before she could rearrange her body, the three boys had pounced upon the bed-were laughing and making crude jokes, poking stiff fingers into her ribs, her ass, her breasts, and worse... suggesting she and Greta continue.
"Okay!" said Greta simply. She giggled. She looked from her brother to Diane's burning face. "What's the difference who watches? Besides... I'm hot!"
"Nooo!" protested Diane. "I... I c-c-can't!"
"The fuck you can't!" growled Skeet. His hand came down hard on the back of her head.
"Yeah! Make 'er suck!" agreed Sammy. "Push 'er face in it. She come back all by 'erself so let's see some action." He began whacking the hose hanging from the front of the shorts.
"Get with it, Greta." Tony came out of his jeans. His dick was already hard-a fat monster standing away from a shock of black cockhair. "Give us a show," he added. "Then we'll all get together. We ain't never tried a five-way blowout before."
It was horrible! The most despicable thing ever! thought Diane as her face was forced down, mashed into the stinking slit she'd thought delightful only a moment before. It was putrid now. Now she could smell the stronger stink of shit, the odor, so thick it could almost be seen, wafting from Greta's cute asshole.
No! Not cute! she corrected herself. Ugly! They had made it horrendous again! She wanted to puke. She wanted to...
"Owwww!" Tony, on his knees behind her at the head of the bed, was fucking his long veiny swipe up her chute.
"Yeah man!" applauded Sammy. "But shit, boss. What about us? Make 'em roll on their sides so's I can get at Greta's sweet bunnies. I'm an asshole man from 'way back."
Diane cried out as the cock popped from her asshole and six rough male hands turned her so she and Greta-still sucking each other's cunt -lay on their sides in the center of the mattress. Then Tony was there again... grinding it up her dry chute... causing pain... making her shove her pussy hard at the younger girl's face. And Sammy, on his side behind Greta, was replanting his meat where it had fucked a mere few hours before, and making the little black wedge nip and ripple against her chin.
Oh God! Diane thought. They were determined to kill her! To embarrass her to death! To shame her! But she sucked the wet gash in her face. And as Tony's long rod twisted up between her tight jiggly ass cheeks, making her gasp, making pleasure out of pain, she experienced another type shame. Now, she thought, what a shame it was that Skeet, sitting at the edge of the bed, had no place to put the thing standing like a pillar of strength, like an all-day sucker, in his lap. She offered her hand... shyly... a thrill passing through her as Skeet groaned and closed her fingers about the base of his tool. But she wished she possessed something more-another hot hairy hole. Something better to give such a magnificent cock.
She stopped thinking. She sucked Greta's cunt, wiggled her ass, and jerked her hand faster and faster... up and down, up and down, up and down...
She had passed out again. They had fucked her into oblivion. And now they lay, all arms and interlocked legs, sprawled over the bedding wet with sweat and cum. It was dawn. The first rays of sunlight were cutting into the room. And she felt... she felt dizzy but sated, in freefall, coming slowly to earth.
She saw Greta's eyelids flutter. The girl was somewhere between sleep and waking. She held her brother's limp cock in her tiny right hand. The other hand lay splayed on her belly... above the hairy thigh, Skeet's leg, wedged tight between hers.
She saw Tony. He was smoking a cigarette, propped at the head of the bed, grinning. Had they fucked all night, she wondered. She remembered only the first time: the four-way sandwich. Could she have done more and forgotten? She stared the question at the purple-red dickhead resting serenely on Tony's thigh. How lovely! she thought. How wonderful it was to awake to the sight of a cock-limp or hard!
She watched Tony's gaze travel the length of her body. The grin on his face widened. She looked down at herself, laughed. Sammy, sprawled at the foot of the bed, had one finger up her cunthole... a fact she hadn't noticed before. She wiggled free, giggled because the finger came out looking like something that had been soaking in a tub of hot water.
Tony snapped his fingers. She jumped, then smiled because he held the finger up and wagged her toward him. Careful not to disturb them, she crawled across Greta and Skeet and nestled in the crook of the arm he offered. Tony smoked in silence until the cigarette was a mere stub. He reached for the ashtray on the bedside table. He shredded the strands of tobacco from the burnt cylinder. Turning to her, he asked, "Glad you came back?"
Diane buried her face in the thick mat of hair on his muscular chest. Was she glad, she wondered. In a way, she supposed she was. But she wasn't certain. Too many things had happened to her in the month since the kidnapping. Strange things. Bad things and good things and things she couldn't yet classify. "I suppose," she said finally.
Tony cupped one firm breast. His fingers toyed with the nipple. "I'm glad you came back," he confided.
The warmth of the statement gushed through Diane. Was it possible, she speculated. Was this gruff, darkly handsome boy saying he cared for her? She looked up into his deepset brown eyes. The hand on her tittie squeezed affectionately. Her own hand moved slowly through the bristly forest that began at his chin and traveled an unbroken route to his navel. The hair changed texture, became thicker, more coarse, as her fingers neared his sex. "Let's go in the other room," she whispered. "So we don't wake the others. So... so we can f-f-fuck!"
But even before she had spoken the words, Sammy, at the foot of the bed, was coming out of sleep. He stretched. He looked from them, to the shriveled finger that had been up her cunt-hole. He sniffed. "Man!" he announced.
"It's better this way," said Tony. He captured the hand on his belly, forced it down through his cockhair, to the limp hose lying across one muscular thigh.
Diane sighed. She supposed he was right. Two dicks were better than one. And three...! Plus there was Greta to think of. Another pussy. Another new experience. Her fingers closed on the limpness in Tony's lap. She began to work it stiff... gaze darting from Sammy's piss hard-on, to the ebony springlets between Greta's smooth thighs, to Skeet's semi-erected cock. Was this her, she wondered. The girl-the virgin who fought and yelled like a banshee when she was raped in this very same room?
The thing in her hand began to stir, to swell and jerk. No! she decided. She wasn't the same anymore! Something strange and exciting had happened to her. Something within had changed, had made her... she didn't know what! She knew only that there was a hunger, an emptiness, a thirst for cum in her belly. In the hole which could be filled for a while, made better, momentarily satisfied by the thing beginning to grow huge in her hand.
Sammy scurried up beside her-between her and Greta and Skeet. Taking hold of her free hand, he closed her small fingers about the shaft of his cock. "Best way to start the day is with a fuck," he said, fondling the breast, the nipple, opposite the one Tony was kneading.
"Fucking stupid mother!" yelped Greta, rudely awakened by Sammy's movement.
"Fuck off!" said Sammy.
Skeet yawned. He grinned at Sammy. "I'll take care of any fucking off Sis has to do."
Diane thought the banter delightful. Lying flat, propped on pillows between the two boys, she jerked the swipes she held in each hand, and watched Skeet mount the dark-haired girl. She watched his long, piss-hard poker, still stained with cuntjuice from the night before, nose its way into the tiny black triangle. How lovely! she thought, cunt twitching as Skeet humped inch after thick inch up his sister.
"That's fer me!" said Sammy.
"Owah!" Diane lifted her hips, her pussy, onto the shriveled finger the boy shoved into the white-blonde wedge between her tense thighs. She made her cuntlips work... sucking the nub to the last joint up her vagina.
"Hold on," said Tony, speaking to his overanxious friend but looking at her. "No singles. This morning we're gonna initiate her-show 'er what real good fucking is. Me, you 'n' Skeet. Three stiff ones at once."
Oh God! thought Diane. Three! She could imagine them boring in. She waited breathlessly for the union to begin... watching Skeet and Greta... gaze shifting from the dick poking the younger girl's twat, to the finger fucking her cunthole, to the tips of the swipes she held- one plumb-shaped and pink, the other round, purple-red.
She blinked. There was something missing, she realized. Some intangible. But she didn't yet know what it was... knew only that now, open and ready, surrounded by cocks waiting to fill her with cream, the excitement she'd felt previously had diminished. It was as if her mind had finally caught up with her body and the thrill, the overpowering bliss of being taken against her will, was gone and had made the difference between plain sex and wonderful fucking.
Sammy shoved his rod hard into her hand. "Christ, boss. 'Member how she fought that day in the woods?"
"Yeah. But she ain't fightin' now," observed Tony. He lowered his face, his lips, to the rigid peak of her breast. "She's purrin' like a pussycat."
Diane drew a sharp breath. That was it! she suddenly realized. The intangible! Resistance! Always before, even when she enjoyed what was being done to her body, she'd struggled and pleaded and fought with her inner self. Now her inner self was calmly accepting the fact that three dicks were about to violate her. "Oh God!" she choked, clutching the wrist of the hand working her pussy. "Oh God, s-s-stoooooop!"
Sammy stared as if she were an escapee from the nearest nuthouse. Tony glowered up from her nipple. Skeet, poised in midstroke above Greta, looked as if his prick were about to go limp from shock.
"I... I c-can't!" As if they were dirty, things she despised, Diane released the two stiff cocks she'd been whacking. She wrestled the hand between her legs, twisted her tit away from the mouth sucking the hard little pink bud. "I... I won't let you do it. Not three. No! Never!"
"Shuddup!" Tony slapped her.
"Oh! You... you f-fuck!" Her nails lashed out, hooked in the skin beneath the hair on his chest, and raked. "I won't! I won't! I won't! I... let me go!"
Tony's face turned as dark and menacing as the four clawmarks oozing blood down his chest. "Fucking crazy cunt!"
Diane saw only a blur. But she heard the loud crack, felt the sting as his open palm whipped back and forth across her face. She felt the fingers at her cunthole become cruel. "Nooobo!" she wailed, lifted from the room, thrown back in time, set down on the day her pussy was new-the day the three brutes took her from Uncle John's store, brought her to the horrible little cabin, and systematically, against her will, took every virgin hole in her body. The revulsion came flooding back. But with it came the other, stronger, more wonderful sense of being debased. Being raped. Attacked by hard male bodies that had lost the last hint of gentleness, and were using, subjecting her flesh to their perverted desires.
"What she needs is a dick in 'er belly, boss." Quickly, pinching the tender inside of her thighs until she opened, Sammy scrambled over her belly. His cock butted her crotch. "Put it in!" he growled, digging his nails into her softness, forcing her to comply.
"Ohhhhhh!" Hand trembling, Diane took hold of his rod. She set the fat tip at her slit. But she closed her cunt tight... wanting the penetration to hurt... savoring the first mighty lunge forward.
Sammy pushed so hard his stiffness bent. He grunted. "Fucking cock-teasing bitch! Open that pussy. Open or I'll-" "Make 'er get up on 'er knees," directed Tony. "Maybe she'll get the message with my dick in 'er ass."
Sobbing-not because of the pain, but because the dickhead had deserted her sheath-Diane allowed them to lift her. On her knees, thighs wide, she balled her hands into fists and pounded Sam's broad shoulders. It did her no good; accomplished only what she'd set out to do. Rough hands gripped her waist from behind. Other hands captured her wrists. Then the swipe was back at her cunthole... pushing in... planting itself while the one at the rear sought her tight anus. She moaned. She twisted and pretended to fight. "No!" she said over and over. "No! No! NOOOO!"
"Hey! Save room for me," hollered Skeet.
Greta protested as the boy yanked his big sloppy wet prick from her wedge. She made a grab for him. "Later!" Skeet told her, positioning himself behind Sammy, on his feet, steering his meat toward the glistening gap in Diane's lovely face. It was madness. The bed became a raft on a sea of sensual delight. Diane gasped. She opened her lower body... working her belly, her thighs, her asshole... taking both veiny joysticks to the hilt up her hot hairy holes. Her lips formed the wide O. She stopped pounding Sam's shoulders-stopped pretending and reached for the fat wrinkled balls dangling from the roots of the cock about to enter her face.
"Now ah! Ah fucking man! Now she's gettin' with it!" groaned Sammy.
"Ummmmm!" Tony's teeth sank into the back of her neck. His hands cupped her jiggling buttocks. Spreading her open, making room for his dick to bite deeper, he began to dip slowly in and out of the tuft of down surrounding her little brown slit.
"Oh! What about meee?" cried Greta.
"Get yer cunt over here!" ordered Tony. He waited for the dark-haired girl to comply. "Now sit yer ass on Diane's shoulders," he directed. "Spread 'em open, sweetheart. Tony's got somethin' you'll dig."
Diane couldn't believe the fantastic arrangement of bodies. She felt Greta's small dimpled behind come to rest on her shoulders-felt the sticky cuntjuice, the residue of Skeet's fucking, drip down her back, and thought sure she was dreaming all this. But the nuts in her hand were no dream. And the dick-the long stinking thing grinding into her face-was too hot, too stiff and good, to be a mere fantasy. She heard Greta coo as Tony's tongue lapped noisily up her sopping wet pussy. She heard Sammy grunt. She heard the cock up her forebelly begin to slurp in time to the tongue swabbing close to her ear, in time to the rod reaming her asshole.
"Oh Gog!" she gurgled on Skeet's pistoning member. "Oh Gog, fuck! Fuck! FUCK!"
No one had to be told. Greta's sweet, thirteen-year-old cunt, the lovely black wedge Diane had sucked the night before, nipped furiously at the tongue licking hotly between her slim young thighs. Tony's meat set a steady fuck pace. Skeet, his hand at the back of her blonde head, shafted his bowed lovelance mightily in and out of the face of the once innocent girl they'd taught every trick, every nuance of screwing.
And Sammy! Best of all, thought Diane, was the lengthy swipe grating roughly across her tense clit. Best of all were the exquisite sensations it triggered. The time for shame, for revulsion and pretense, was over. Now was the time to screw. To work her inner cunt muscles. To wiggle her ass. To draw on the knob of the joint deep in her mouth. No! she thought. She was no longer the sweet innocent girl who lost her maidenhead in this same bed! That part of her life was over. Gone forever. She was a woman now. A woman skilled in the intricacies of sex. Of sucking and fucking. Of pleasure.
"Ah!" Skeet planted his throbbing dick to the hilt. "Hold tight, baby. I... I'm coming!"
"You said it!" chimed Sammy, listing to one side, making room for Skeet and fucking his prick into her at an angle.
On her shoulders, Greta squirmed and squealed. Tony lapped. The pole up her rectum tensed. Then the window beside the bed seemed to explode-letting in light second only to the bright flash racing simultaneously from the dicks in her face, ass and forebelly.
Diane gulped the thick cream. She fucked her hips round and round on the stuff spitting off in her cunthole and rectum. She drove herself toward the light, toward the fulfillment building up in her clit. Orgasm! she thought, feeling it begin. Nothing else mattered-not Uncle John, not tomorrow, not anything. Nothing except reaching the place where pussies and pricks and assholes and mouths united.
