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   (For the original A House In Gross Disorder, see
https://muse.jhu.edu/article/44333)

   Jenny's Couch Book IV: A House In Gross Disorder, part 4 (Mgg, tg, ped,
inc, oral, cons, semi-cons, forced-exhib, prost, PTSD) by Rufus Fugit

   "When did you start wearing a bra?" I asked Renee.  To my astonishment,
she blushed.  Not just a little flush, but a deep, flaming red from her
cheeks to the tips of her ears to the roots of her thick, wavy brown hair.
I didn't think I'd ever seen Renee embarrassed like that.  Ever since I'd
known her, which went back to when she barely out of diapers, she had been
confident and self-possessed far beyond her years.  You got the impression
that if her face showed what she was thinking it was only because she had
decided to let you see.  So it was pretty amazing to see her at such a
loss. Especially since, at the moment, she was naked, sitting on my lap,
with my erect penis as deeply embedded as possible in the flaming silk
embrace of her ten-year-old vagina.  I could look down over her
newly-sprouted chest and see my shaft splitting her chubby, smooth labia
wide open.  The bud of her clitoris was fully erected, the hood stretched
like a butterfly that leaned slightly to one side.

   I was sitting on a towel in the motel room's threadbare armchair, angled
so I could put my feet up on the bed.  Renee was facing forward in
reverse-cowgirl position, though just now she was leaning back, the warmth
of her small, slightly chunky form against my chest.  She was just the
perfect size for her head to rest along the inside edge of my clavicle,
tucked beneath my chin like a sexy little violin.  And at the moment she
was vibrating like an overtightened E string.  We'd been screwing for
almost an hour.  I'd begun our session by putting some benzocaine on my
cockhead, to numb it just a little and delay my climax.  Then I'd had Renee
lie on the bed while I massaged baby oil all over her soft skin, front and
back, and not neglecting her tasty little asshole.  She'd returned the
favor when I sat down, matting my chest hair and pubes as we kissed and
made out and coating my penis until it rose to full hardness and I was
squirming beneath her hands.  Then she'd climbed astride, draping her knees
off the chair's arms and carefully positioning herself.  Together we'd
guided my cock to the entrance to her treasure while I clicked on the tv.

   As the playlist of gay porn clips I'd compiled for Renee's enjoyment had
begun Renee slowly undulated against me, our oil-slicked skins sliding
together deliciously.  She reached down with both hands to spread her inner
lips, easing the initial penetration as my glans popped into her.  "Oh,
Renee," I groaned.  "Your cunt..."

   "Yesss, my cunt," she'd answered.  From the very beginning when Renee
was nine and I'd moved from grooming to actively molesting her, I'd been
very verbal and taught her to do the same.  There was something about a
child's voice spewing bedroom trash talk that turned me on so hard.  "Your
penis...feels nice in my cunt.  I can feel it going in.  It's hot, ooo..."
Renee'd let her head loll back as I ran my hands up and down her greased
torso.  I played with one firm little booby, palpating it with my palm and
letting my fingers lightly pinch the fat nipple, while my other hand
drifted down to where our flesh was joined.  I pushed her clit from side to
side, making her whine and draw up her knees.  Then she twisted her body
and spun on my cock slightly, just enough to reach the small bottle I had
uncapped and put at her elbow on the small bedside table.  She raised it to
her nose and inhaled deeply, blew out through her mouth, inhaled again, and
again.  Her hot bare flesh seemed to melt against me as the amyl nitrate
fumes saturated her lungs and coursed through her ten-year-old body.  As
her leg muscles relaxed she slid down and her cunt opened up to a deeper
impalement "Ooo, my cuuuunt" she crooned.  "Ooo, my cuuuunt, my cuuuunt,
ooo, ooo, oooOOOoooOOO OOOH!  OOOH!" Her preteen body went rigid as an
orgasm swept over her.  I closed my fist around hers to prevent the bottle
from spilling.  Her thighs trembled and her bare feet kicked up to either
side.  Her belly rippled and I felt her vaginal sheath pulsing around my
organ, so large between her child's thighs.  After a few moments the
ten-year-old collapsed back against me.  I moved my hips, slowly pistoning
in and out as she panted in my arms.  I felt the hammering of her heart
gradually slowing as she recovered.

   One clip ended and a new pair of shaven, oiled, sort of twink-looking
guys came onto the tv screen, these two in a ferocious 69.  Renee's eyes
were hooded as she watched.  I stroked her forehead.  After a minute, she
began to rotate her hips to meet my gentle thrusting, and then she lifted
the bottle to her nose and the cycle started again.

   The child was recovering from her fourth orgasm, sweaty, out of breath,
but with no signs of tiring, when I asked the question that had her burying
her face in her hands in embarrassment.  "Hey," I said, kind of at a loss
where to go from there.

   Renee's voice emerged muffled from behind her hands.  "My...my nipples,"
she stammered.  "This one time, after Christmas, I wore my white polo to
school." Renee's school had instituted something not quite a uniform but
more than a dress code: polo shirt in white or the school color, pants or
skirt in black, navy, or khaki, no jeans, no logo hats, no belly shirts,
that kind of thing.  "And my...breasts..." Again she stumbled over the
anatomical term.  It was charming, especially considering she had no
trouble with the bedroom words for her anatomy.  And double especially
considering my big, hard bedroom word was currently buried in her hot,
tight, preteen bedroom word.  "My, my breasts had just started to grow and
the shirt rubbed and almost it hurt, kinda, but not really.  But when I got
home Mommy said Miz Carrington had called her and said I needed to start
wearing a bra because...because..." Renee hid her face and but I could
still see her ears and her scalp turn bright red.  "Because my nipples were
sticking out and everyone could see!" she finished in a rush.

   "I think your nipples are very pretty..." I started, but Renee cut me
off.

   "Of course you think that, we fuck!" she said scornfully.  "I don't fuck
with the boys and girls in my class!  Or with Miz Carrington, she's like,
ew, a hundred years old.  She looks like a skeleton!" And then with no more
than "I'm done" Renee put her hands on the chair arms and levered her upper
body off me.  Our sticky, oiled skin peeled apart.  I gasped as the tight
ring of her vaginal opening dragged up along my shaft, pulling the loose
skin up over my glans until, with a slurp and a dribble of hot juice from
Renee's juvenile cunny, I popped free and slapped against my belly.

   "Hey, Renee..." Wow, the whine in my voice disgusted even me.  But it
was my dick doing the talking and he didn't care, he just wanted to get
back in that tight warm place.  "Renee, I wanted to squirt in you, c'mon
back." I patted my thigh.  "Please?" Pathetic.

   "I said, I'm done," Renee replied, not angry, just matter-of-fact.  She
was rummaging in her backpack as she spoke, bent over, her delightful pink
little asshole taunting me.  To make it worse she turned around with a new
appliance.  It was one of those new strapless strapons.  She half-squatted
and pushed the backside bulb against her chubby labia.  They split apart
slowly to admit the fat ball and she sighed as it slid home.  Then she
straightened her knees and stood.  Holy crap.  She was sprouting a
flesh-colored, extremely realistic erection.  It was only 6 inches or so
but on a short ten-year-old it looked huge.  Renee made it bob up and down
with contractions of her vaginal muscles, hard enough that it slapped her
belly, the head touching above her bellybutton.  "I'll do you in the butt
if you want," she offered.

   "No thanks," I said, failing to control the sulk in my voice.  So that's
the way we were, me getting dressed all sullen after a cold shower, and
Renee sitting on the bed, watching porn and jacking her penis, when a key
rattled in the door and Karen let herself in.

   Karen shrugged out of her backpack.  It was small, made for a young
elementary school child, and she'd outgrown it for every use but one.  She
certainly wasn't into Dora the Explorer any more, but some of her customers
sure seemed to like it.  She unzipped the pencil case and a thick wad of
folded cash literally exploded out of it, scattering on the room's second
bed.  Karen was wearing a plain white tshirt, one that had been washed so
much it was nearly translucent.  She was braless so the only thing keeping
her high breasts from being completely visible was a half-length toreador's
jacket covered in sequins.  Her skirt's waistband was rolled up so that the
hem barely covered her ass.  She stepped out of her flipflops and shed her
clothing as she crossed the room.  Naked, the twelve-year-old examined the
wreck of her heavy makeup in the vanity mirror before putting one foot up
next to the sink.  Her body was on complete display to us.  I saw fresh
bite marks on her breasts.  Her crotch was a mess.  Semen oozed sluggishly
from her gaping cunt.  Her lower abdomen and bald labia were spattered with
thick, musky-smelling foam.  Cum dripped down her inner thighs.  Her
oversized clitoris dominated the apex of her puffy vulva, swollen, twisted,
dark red, shiny and slick.  As she ran warm water onto a washcloth Karen's
tight cheeks parted and I could see that her asshole was likewise
overflowing with milky goo.

   Just another Saturday morning at the park.

   The girls had been scheduled to within an inch of their lives, like most
children these days.  Music lessons.  Sports.  Church.  Extra-curricular
activities.  Playdates.  But last year Rob discovered this online group
promoting what they called "free-range parenting", basically, give the kids
a little freedom to develop their own self-reliance and life skills.  From
what I gathered it had taken Jenny a while to come on board but memories of
her own rural childhood had helped.  So once the weather started warming
each girl was presented with their first very own phone - nothing fancy, no
internet, just a basic feature phone with voice and text.  Jenny showed
them how to set an alarm that would ring every two hours.  Then Rob told
the girls that from now on, Saturday was "get out of the house" day.  Their
allowances were raised so they could afford to buy themselves lunch and see
a movie or take the bus to a museum or the library.  They were on their own
from after breakfast until the streetlights came on.  All they had to do
was call or text when that alarm went off.

   Jenny told me she was surprised at how easily the girls took to the
idea, given how alien it was to the experience of most children these days.
Or something like that.  I'd pretty much stopped listening by that point, I
was too busy thinking about how I could rearrange my schedule to spend
every Saturday up in town.

   Today was typical.  I left the house before sunup with 2 small
suitcases, my stuff and Karen's.  Got to the motel, checked in, had
breakfast.  Before 9 Karen and Renee were at the door.  While Karen
changed, discarding her normal Saturday playclothes for one of the "working
outfits" I kept for her, Renee would tell me about their week.  After using
her new phone to make some appointments with her regulars, Karen would head
for the park.  And come back around lunchtime looking like a sixth-grader
who'd been having sex with adults for three hours straight, which was
exactly accurate.

   Renee looked away from the television, though her arm didn't stop its
slow up and down motion, miming masturbation of her realistic dildo.  Her
bare body looked intolerably sexy limned by the blue glow.  I had to
suppress a groan.  "How was it?" she asked her older sister.  There was
genuine concern in her voice.

   Karen paused with one knee on the vanity, the other foot on the floor.
The wire handle of the bottle brush protruded from her backside.  Her torso
was twisted so she could grasp the brush easily.  "Okay," she said
noncommittally.  She paused and began counting on her fingers.  "Mister Al,
then a boy I didn't know, then two other boys, one I've seen before but the
other not, them at the same time, then Tommy, then Mister Al again, then
you know that office building with the coffee truck out front?  The lady
was working in the truck today, the one that likes to lick from my butt
while I hand out coffee.  She is soooo weird," Karen rolled her eyes at the
weirdness of adults.  "Then the guys on the basketball team in that van
from the college.  Then Mister Al one more time."

   "Who bit your breasts?" I asked.

   Karen looked at me blankly.  "Everybody."

   "How many orgasms?" Renee asked.

   "I wrote down eight, but after I got in the van it was pretty much one
long one." She smiled to herself.  "Mister Al had to hold me up 'cause my
legs were shaking so bad."

   I was about ready to explode.  On the one hand, here was Renee, my
ten-year-old lover, sitting naked on the bed, leaning back on one arm while
with the other slowly jacking on the realistic adult-sized penis sprouting
absurdly from her crotch.  She kicked her feet idly as she played with
herself.  And at the sink there was her middle-school sister talking
casually and mater-of-factly about spending her morning prostituting
herself to a succession of teens and adults until she literally could
barely walk.  And the meantime using a washcloth and a bottle brush to
clean what seemed like pints of semen off her body and out of her orifices.

   I must have made a sound because Renee turned to look at me.  She
snorted softly.  "Karen, come here," she said.

   "In a minute," Karen said.  She was cleaning off her face now.

   "No!  Now, whore!" Renee's voice had laughter in it underneath the
command.  She was clearly kidding but Karen jerked upright as if someone
had pulled on her leash.  She dropped the soap and cloth and came to stand
next where Renee sat on the bed.  "Knees, whore!" Renee said with the same
stagey tone, but Karen instantly knelt, sitting back on her bare heels. 
Renee turned to look at me, one elbow moving as she continued to idly
masturbate.  "You can squirt into the whore's mouth," she informed me, then
went back to watching her porn.

   Karen and I looked at each other.  We looked at Renee, who was
ostentatiously ignoring us, and then back to each other.  Well, if nothing
else, I wasn't going to look a gift whore in the mouth.  (And yeah, I'd
been saving up that line for years.) I swung my legs awkwardly over to the
other side of the bed, shimmying out of my pants as I went.  Karen's long
blond hair was loose, tumbling over her bare shoulders.  She got up on her
knees so that her face was right at my cock.  I felt her breath on my
nutsack.  I put one hand on the back of her neck.  I felt the warm puff of
air travel up my erection as Karen leaned forward to take my it in her
mouth as she had done to hundreds before me, but I tightened my grip on the
hair at her nape, holding her back.  She looked up at me quizzically.

   "Remember the first time you did this, Karen?" I asked hoarsely.

   Of course she did.  Karen's blue eyes filled with tears as I held her
head tipped back.  She had never processed the trauma of that day. 
Everything that had been done to her since - by me, by Moira, by her own
little sister - the whole point was to keep her from processing it.  So as
the memories flooded her she was right back in the moment, stripped naked
in the parking lot of her old elementary school.  Shivering with her bare
skin against the cold, wet metal of my truck bed.  Her face burning with
shame and her body burning with need.  The tears spilled down her face as
she sucked my penis into her lipsticked mouth with a sob.

   "Your sister's a great cocksucker, Renee," Karen's shoulders hunched as
if from a blow.  I groaned as her tongue laved the underside of my shaft,
then twirled around the head.  Her mouth was hot and moist, and her
delicate suction was exquisite.  "Cocksucking whore, just like God made
you," I continued.  "Hope your Daddy never finds out you've been selling
your babycunt since you were eleven."

   Karen shook her head as much as she could with a mouthful of cock. 
"Uh-uh, uh-uh," she grunted between sobs.  Now we had Renee's attention. 
"Karen, why are you crying?" she asked.

   "She doesn't want to be a whore," I gritted out.

   "That's silly!" Renee exclaimed.  "She's got a whore babycunt!" Renee
had absorbed the twisted scenario we had constructed and forced her big
sister to live.  She had to.  I'd made her complicit in the abuse.  To
disavow it, the little girl would have to accept that she was a rapist, and
that she'd victimized the person she maybe loved most in the world.  The
scorn was thick in her voice.  "If you're not a whore, Karen, what will you
do when your cunt gets hot?  I bet it's hot now, isn't it?  Isn't it?" she
insisted.  Karen shook her head frantically, but she didn't stop bobbing up
and down on me, and even as she tried to deny it her hand snaked downward
and she shivered convulsively as her thumb and fingers grasped her clitoris
and tugged it from side to side.

   "I'll help you, Karen!" Renee exclaimed and she bounced off the bed and
landed on her knees behind her big sister.  Two naked children knelt before
me, Renee's brown hair and Karen's blond both falling free down the
graceful sweep of their bare backs.  Renee grasped the older girl's hips
and pulled Karen back down so the flare of her developing ass touched her
heels again.  Karen arched her back and my penis slid out so just the tip
was still between her bright red lips.  Renee adjusted the angle of her
appliance, grimacing as the bulbous back end of it shifted inside her
preteen vaginal canal.  Then she rocked her pelvis forward.

   "AAAIEEE!" Karen yelped as she felt the silicone shaft spear her and
slide into her well-fucked cunny.  Her face contorted in a mixture of
emotional agony and raw, animal pleasure.  Tears still poured from her eyes
and her skin was blotchy red as the sexual flush came over her.  "UGH! 
UGH! UGH!" she grunted as Renee drove the artificial tool up and into her
big sister.  She reached up and seized Karen's pert, teacup-shaped breasts,
squeezing them and pinching their swollen nipples.  For my part, I grabbed
her ears and began fucking her face in earnest.  Karen's grunts became
groans became cries in rapid succession, her voice rising in pitch and
volume as Renee fucked her mercilessly, driving her big sister to another
climax that the older girl was incapable of resisting.  Just as she began
to moan out her orgasm, I grabbed a fistful of her thick blond hair and
yanked her head back, pulling my penis free of her mouth and jacking it
furiously.  My nuts drew up and my own climax locked my muscles.  The first
shot of hot semen painted from Karen's chin, up her cheek and across one
wide blue eye to her forehead.  The next one went across her lips to the
bridge of her nose.  The next went up her nose.  And then I dribbled more
into her gaping mouth.  Karen shuddered and slumped down, impaling herself
as deeply as possible on Renee's appliance.  Her head flopped forward.  I
had to put my hands on her shoulders to hold her steady.  Karen's hair hid
her face and muffled her groan as a wet slurping indicated Renee had
disengaged, then a squish as Karen's crotch pressed against the carpet her
gush of girl-cum had just soaked.

   The room was quiet except for soft murmur of sex on the television, and
Karen's broken sobs.  Renee hugged her from behind, her silicone erection
now trapped between them.  "Love you, whory whore," she whispered.  Karen
cried harder.  "It's okay, Karen.  I love you.  It doesn't matter how big
of a whore you are, I'll always love you and I'll always help you get
fucked."

   Renee thought she was comforting her older sister, but I saw Karen's
eyes.  Her sister's words were like knives stabbing into her soul.  Her
blue eyes were a bottomless well of pain.  But then, as I had seen the
child do so many times before, she capped the well.  Her eyes went as blank
and shallow as a doll's.  She ducked her head again just long enough to
dash the tears away and I thought I heard her mutter "Stupid..." then she
raised her semen-streaked face to mine and pasted a brittle, empty smile on
her face.  A blob of cum ran down her lip, across her even front teeth, and
onto her tongue.  "When are we going to see Lilah?" she asked.

   "Right now," I said.  "Renee, get dressed." Karen didn't notice I'd left
her out of that request.  She turned to the closet where her playclothes
were hung up.  "Not you, sweetie," I took her arm.  Karen looked at me,
confused.  "It's a short drive, and we're just going to see Lilah.  You
look prettiest just the way you are.  Just!" I stopped her as she raised a
hand to wipe my semen off her face.  "The way you are."

   Karen was too emotionally exhausted to protest as Renee and I herded her
out the door and across the parking lot naked.  It wasn't that the
sixth-grader had any sense of decency left to outrage.  She was so broken
that her humiliation at being forced to go without clothing didn't even
rise to the surface of her consciousness.  It was only the fear of getting
caught, of having her terrible secrets revealed, that had her shivering
with anxiety.  On top of which, she was also more than a little cunt-sore,
and walking barefoot across the gravel was less than comfortable.  But it
was the weekend, midday, in the back parking lot of a nearly-empty motel,
with the building to one side and the below-grade urban interstate to the
other.  We were unobserved.

   There was more traffic on the Daubersteins' street.  It was a
neighborhood with lots of young families and little kids, so we pulled down
into the townhouse's garage and closed the door to the street.  Karen
winced again when her bare feet hit the cold concrete of the garage floor.
I caressed the warm flesh and silky fall of hair between her shoulderblades
and guided her into the house.
   To be continued...