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From: Rufus Fugit <rufusfugit@yahoo.com>
Reply-To: Rufus Fugit <rufusfugit@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Spring Break: Jenny's Couch Book II, part 37
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Date: Tue, 03 Sep 2013 07:10:08 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Jenny's Couch 2-37.txt" begin>

This story is made available under a Creative Commons Attribution -
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this work so long as authorship is properly credited and these introductory
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   Please send feedback to rufusfugit at yahoo dot com.  I write for
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   Spring Break: Jenny's Couch Book II, part 37 (M+g, g/machine, oral,
mast, exhib, reluc, humil, prost) by Rufus Fugit

   I was dozing when the truck arrived.  I was reclined on a cheap lounge
chair I'd dragged around to the back of the building.  My legs were splayed
off either side with my bootheels on the ground.  Renee was sitting with
her little ten-year-old butt snugged into my crotch.  The warmth of her
body through my trousers and her thin sundress was pleasant on my scrotum
and exhausted penis.  She had emptied the coffee cans that served as tip
jars for her prostitute sister and Karen's newly-turned-out friend,
seven-year-old Lilah.  She was carefully smoothing out the wrinkled bills,
stacking and counting them, and putting them into a paper sack she had
taken from behind the bar.

   She was up to "eight hundred eighty-five" when her count was yet again
interrupted by the popping sound of an adult penis being pulled from
Lilah's throat.  It was followed by a bubbling, gargling coughing fit.  I
slitted my eyes open just in time to see the naked second-grader thump down
into the dirt on her elbows and knees.  Her skinny nude body was smeared
with mud and streaked with semen, and it shook as, with her head hanging
down, she sprayed and drooled fresh cum and mucus onto the ground.  The
child was facing away from me so I had a perfect view of her dirt-blackened
soles.  Her anus was a distended, angry red.  It winked open and closed
between her pale, quivering cheeks as she coughed.  As Lilah's fit
subsided, one hand stole between her legs to grasp the giant safety pin
piercing her labia and blocking her still-virgin cunny.  She tugged on it
hard, stretching and distorting her fat outer lips and, whimpering, it was
almost as if she pulled herself to her feet by it.

   Lilah stood, swaying and shivering violently.  Firelight painted her
sweaty, cum-smeared body and glinted off the jewelry piercing her nose,
nipples, navel, and baby peach and the fine silver chains connecting them.
Her pale blond hair stuck up at crazy angles.  The lenses of her eyeglasses
were totally obscured with spunk.  When I had last noticed there were four
hash marks Sharpied across her forehead.  Now there were easily two dozen
all over her face and shoulders.  The man she had just finished
deep-throating stepped forward and, grabbing a handful of her hair, slapped
his deflating penis back and forth across her cheeks.  Then he took the
marker dangling from the chain connecting the rings piercing her dime-sized
nipples and added a fresh mark.  The naked child showed no reaction to this
ritual of abuse except for the continued tugging and twisting at the safety
pin binding her cuntlips together.

   With a satisfied grunt the man half-guided, half dragged Lilah by the
hand gripping her hair.  He passed her to another form, hulking and
anonymous in the shifting firelight, who took the same tight grip against
her scalp and pulled her unresisting out of my field of view.  Moments
later came sounds of choking and then a rhythmic wet pistoning.

   But the sounds of Lilah deep-throating yet another adult cock were
drowned out by a roar of glass-pack mufflers and tires on gravel behind me.
Renee stopped her counting - putting a thumb carefully on the latest stack
- and craned her head around.  I looked in the same direction to see a
white pickup truck crunching across the lot.  Oversize knobby tires rolled
past us as it went off the edge of the gravel onto the scruffy grass. 
There was a gun rack and - of course - a Confederate flag in the back
window.  It rolled to a stop parked midway between the closed bar and the
biker clubhouse.  The driver left the engine running, a low, growling
rumble, and stepped down out of the cab.  He was wearing a biker's cut but
without the top rocker.  I squinted and could make out a "Prospect" patch.
He was short but muscular with a wasp waist and broad shoulders.  He had a
full sleeve covering the bulging bicep and forearm I could see.  Long red
hair hid his features as he strode towards the other half of the party
going on in front of the biker clubhouse.

   "Oooooohaaaahh!" I turned my head towards the high-pitched moaning at my
left shoulder.  It was Karen, of course, reaching another climax.  My
twelve-year-old not-actual-niece was sitting on the ground next to her
little sister and me.  She was still naked, of course, except for the silky
white thigh-high stockings she'd been given to dance in.  Her hands, still
bound by the chain that looped through her silver collar, were cupping her
small, perky breasts, tugging aggressively at the swollen, cherry-sized
nipples.  She sat with one leg bent to the side and her other heel jammed
against her swollen vulva.  As yet another orgasm overtook the child she
stopped hunching herself and froze.  Her eyes squinched shut and her cunny
spread open as a trickle of clear juice oozed out.  She had worn the heel
out of her stocking.  Both her skin and the fabric were drenched and shiny
with her secretions.  She was sitting in a puddle of aromatic mud; her
vulva was streaked with it.  Her clit pulsed against her dirty heel, a dark
red, knotted, absurdly swollen bud.  Her familiar scent was strong in my
nose, an amalgam of sweat and preteen arousal.  Had I not been exhausted
from repeated intercourse with her younger sister, Renee, it would've
brought me right to attention.

   Karen's waist-length blond hair shone in the firelight as she tossed her
head back, glorying in the explosions of sexual pleasure coursing through
her preteen body.  The roots of her hair were dark with sweat, and the ends
were dusty from dragging on the ground.  "Uh...uh...uh..." Soft
high-pitched grunts came more from her nose than between her gritted teeth.
Gradually the tension drained out of her lithe, pale form.  Her shoulders
slumped and her belly relaxed as her umpteenth orgasm of the night ebbed.
Unconsciously she resumed hunching herself against her heel.  Her grip on
her titties relaxed and she gently flicked at her pink nips in time with
her humping.  Her long lashes fluttered and her eyes slowly swam back into
focus.  As she looked around the sexual flush faded from her upper chest,
only to be replaced with a bright blush across her cheeks.  Temporarily
free of the remorseless grip of her unslakable sexual appetite, the
sixth-grader realized yet again that she was naked, filthy, reeking of sex
and masturbating in front of dozens of adult strangers.  Humiliation and
defiance warred in her wide blue eyes as the little girl she wished she
could be struggled with the whore I had convinced her she was.

   As always, the whore won out.  "Can I go look at the truck?" she asked,
but she was addressing not me, but Renee, her ten-year-old sister.  Karen's
violent sexual awakening had created a strange reversal of the normal
sibling dynamic between the two children.  At first Renee had made no
secret of the puzzled contempt she felt for Karen's inability to resist her
body's desires.  From her limited perspective she had no basis for
understanding Karen's surprisingly precocious sexual appetites, and the
effect of the carefully calibrated campaign of praise and sexual abuse to
which I had subjected the older girl.  And perhaps her disdain had been
amplified as a defense mechanism when I had made her complicit in her big
sister's painful deflowering.  But love and her natural generosity of
spirit won out and, with my guidance, she had appointed herself Karen's
protector.  In practical terms, that meant her pimp.  When the
twelve-year-old abandoned herself to pleasure she would lose what little
immature good judgement she had.  And there would be Renee at her elbow,
negotiating her price, collecting payment, and - with the martial arts
training she was pursuing with unchildlike dedication - protecting her big
sister.

   Renee, again distracted from her counting, barely glanced at her
sister's sweaty and dirt-streaked form.  "Okay, but remember, no fucking!
We don't have any con-doms.  Renee stumbled over the word, pronouncing it
to rhyme with "homes".  She didn't yet fully grasp the human reproductive
cycle but she knew I'd told her that if Karen whored without them she could
get sick or get a baby in her tummy - which either way would mean other
grownups would find out her big sister was a whore and that would be bad.

   Karen got her legs under her and stood shakily, working to keep her
balance with her wrists chained to her collar.  Her stockings, now dirty,
torn, and soaked to the point where they no longer clung easily to the tops
of her thin thighs, emphasized the length of her long, coltish legs.  Her
scent went from strong to overwhelming and I sat up, finding my nose right
at the level of her childishly rounded belly where it curved down to her
pouting, slick sex.  I couldn't resist, I turned and grabbed her pillowy
buttocks with both hands and pulled her close.  She gasped as my palms
scraped across the unhealed cigarette burns dotting her cheeks, then her
gasp became a moan as I fastened my lips around her swollen clitoris.  I
sucked hard and flicked my tongue against the oversize nub.  My mouth was
flooded with the piquant flavor of her preteen cunt, at once smoky and
sweet sharp.  Saliva flowed and I may have groaned softly myself as I felt
her pleasure knob pulse against my pursed lips.

   "Hey!" Renee said sharply, and I jumped as she smacked my softened peter
in my jeans none-too-gently with her open palm.  "No freebies!" I detected
the tiniest bit of jealousy in her voice.  I happened to be glancing up at
her older sister's face and saw Karen's eyes widen with hurt and shame
before another flick of my tongue overwhelmed everything but her animal
need.

   "I know," I mumbled around my mouthful of clitoris.  "I'm just thirsty."
That wasn't true - not that Karen's preteen juices weren't delicious as
they flooded my mouth, dripped down my chin, and further slimed her inner
thighs, but that wasn't what I was about.  As I had done so many times
before, I was bringing Karen to the brink.  I flicked my tongue back and
forth against her delightfully swollen clitty.  I could feel the narrow
ridge of scar tissue twisting along its underside, her souvenir from the
truck stop adventure last Christmas.

   Karen thrust her pubis forward, mashing my nose into her drenched pubic
tuft.  The silky hairs tickled.  She groaned as I captured the very tip of
her bud between my front teeth and pulled back, stretching the elastic
flesh until it was tight and thrumming like a guitar string.  She was
moaning continuously now, each surge of breath in a higher register.  Her
hands jerked the binding chains tight; if she'd been free she'd've been
grabbing my ears and trying to shove my entire head into her vagina.  Just
as her voice climbed up towards the supersonic and I felt her glutes start
to tense, I stopped and pulled away.

   Karen's moan turned to whistling groan of frustration.  She thrust her
pelvis forward, trying to restore the contact that had her teetering on the
edge of orgasm.  Sweat was pouring off her scrunched-up face and she was
panting like a marathoner.  Her fists balled up as I put my palm flat
against her stomach and pushed her away.  Her pale skin was hot and slick.
I put both hands on her hipbones and turned her around, then swatted her
playfully on her ass.  "Go look at the truck," I told her negligently and
lay back down.  Then to her sister, "What a silly whore." Renee giggled. 
Karen shuddered as if struck.  Tears of shame welled in her bloodshot eyes.
She ducked her head and walked off on wobbly legs.

   It was only a few minutes later that Renee shook my shoulder to get my
attention.  "Look what Karen's doing!" she stage-whispered.  "She's trying
to do sex with the truck!" I struggled upright and followed Renee's
pointing arm.  She was absolutely right, at least, that's what it looked
like.  There was Karen, pressing herself full-length against the sheet
metal of the truck's side.  Her pert buttocks were vibrating in time with
the engine's growling.  She spread her legs and bent her knees slightly and
rubbed her pelvis in a vigorous circular motion, swaying from side to side.
She turned her head towards us and I could see the sixth-grader's eyes were
closed and her face was slack with pleasure.  Her mouth hung slightly open,
tongue-tip protruding.

   Karen slid along towards the back of the truck.  When she encountered
the tall, knobby tires of the jacked-up vehicle, she spent a few fruitless
moments trying for satisfaction by pressing her swollen clitoris against
the heavy treads.  She turned around, jaw clenched in frustration, and
tried the same thing with her backside.  Her abdomen, crotch, thighs, and
the ragged remains of her white stockings became smeared with tire black.

   Abandoning the wheels, the naked twelve-year-old continued to the back
of the truck where the first thing that apparently caught her eye was the
twin exhaust pipes.  I guess she was attracted by their more violent
vibration because before I could even draw breath to shout a warning she
planted her stockinged feet wide to either side of the pipe, pushed her
butt out against the bumper, and lowered herself.

   "AAAAAIIIIEEEE!" Karen's scream of agony cut through the competing
blares of music.  She leapt straight up in the air and fell to the ground.
Her chains jerked taut as she tried fruitlessly to clap her hands over her
crotch, but she couldn't reach.  She writhed on her stomach on the grass,
grinding her pubis into the earth, trying to ease the pain.  The pipe was
hot, of course, and the silly girl had planted her vulva right on it.  She
was going to have a nasty burn.  Renee was up like a shot, running to her
sister's side.  For all her teasing she loved her older sister and
protected her with a fierceness like I'd never seen.  Pausing only a scoop
some ice out of the keg barrel, I followed.  Together we knelt at Karen's
side.  I rolled Karen onto her back and got Renee to pin Karen's shoulders
to the ground with her knees.  Karen was sobbing and kicking her legs
weakly.  She shrieked when I clapped a handful of ice cubes over her
throbbing peach, then trailed off into moans and hiccups as relief flowed
over her.  After a minute lay still.  "My babycunt," she whispered thickly
as tears flowed from the corners of her eyes and tracked across her
temples. "Oh, it hurts, it huuuuurts..."

   I bent to examine her injury.  The burn was at the very bottom of her
outer labia, surrounding her foaming opening, and on her perineum.  The
smooth skin, already swollen and flushed with blood, was an angry red.  The
fine down that had begun to sprout was gone and there was a faint odor of
burnt hair.  Thankfully there was no blistering.  Her reflexes had pulled
her away from the hot pipe before any serious damage was done.  I resumed
pressing the ice against her cunt with one hand and I couldn't resist
twiddling her clitty with the other.  Before long she was writhing and
gasping as pain and pleasure warred, twisting together to nearly squeeze
the breath from her.  Again the awful fire began to build in her belly. 
The painful throb of her fresh burn was like a booster rocket for the
shocks of pleasure making her toes curl, making her draw her shaking legs
up and open, making her belly tremble and more creamy goo ooze from between
her blood-thickened inner lips.  She whimpered as the salty discharge
stung.

   Again I denied the sixth-grader an easy release, ceasing my masturbation
as the sexual flush began to spread across the skin covering her delicate
collarbones.  Renee and I set her upright on her trembling legs.  Karen
collapsed to her knees but her eyes were focused at something behind me. 
She shouldered me out of the way and knee-walked to the closed tailgate of
the truck.  More careful now, she gingerly moved her face back and forth to
determine that the object of her attention was not dangerously hot.  Having
done so, she used her restrained hands to pull herself upright and then,
rising up on her toes to match the height of the jacked-up suspension, she
impaled herself on the two-inch chrome trailer hitch.

   "AAAHHHAAIIIEEEHHH!" Karen yelled, this time in pure pleasure, as her
weight on the smooth metal spheroid stretched her labia and distended her
vaginal opening before it pushed into her juvenile channel.  She groaned as
her Kegel muscles tightened and spasmed around the intruder.  Her toes
skimmed over the sparse grass.  She grabbed onto the rim of the tailgate
and used that leverage to undulate her thin torso, driving herself down
onto the trailer hitch.  She began bouncing in a rhythm that almost
immediately got ragged and uneven as her limbs shook with an impending
explosion.

   Renee's hazel eyes were wide with surprise.  "Wow," she breathed,
watching her older sister fuck herself with abandon.  The older girl's eyes
her closed, utterly ignoring her nudity and the crowd of onlookers. 
"Karen's fucking the truck," Renee said, half to herself.  Then, catching
on to the serendipitous rhyme, "Karen's a truck-fucker!  Karen, you're a
truck-fucking whore!" she called out.

   "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Karen chanted in time with her penetration.  Her
face was bright red.  The flesh of her buttocks, pale except for the angry
red dots of cigarette burns under the streaks of mud, sweat, and tire
schmutz, jiggled and bounced.  "I'm a whore," she gasped out.  "I'm a
whore, a whore, a whore," Her voice climbed up a squeal.  "A whore, A
WHORE, WHORE!  WHORE!  WHO-OOOOH JEEEZ!" And then Karen's shriek of release
as her long-delayed orgasm shattered against her tender pre-teen body
turned into a cry of shock and fear as the truck lurched into motion.  We
had been so entranced by the vision of a preteen sexually assaulting an
F150 that we had not noticed the driver returning and climbing back in.

   The truck turned in a wide circle on the grass with Karen's naked form
gyrating and flopping on the back.  Her legs flew out from under her and
behind as her toes skipped off the ground moving beneath her.  Her orgasmic
wail dopplered down as the truck moved away from us.  The twelve-year-old's
cries were punctuated by explosive grunts as the truck bed bounced on its
suspension and drove the trailer hitch deep into her preteen body and
pounded against her cervix.

   Renee recovered from the surprise before I did.  She leapt to her feet
and ran, bare legs flashing beneath her short sundress.  She placed herself
in front of the turning truck and stopping, jumping up and down and waving
her arms and shrieking at the top of her little lungs.  For a moment I was
afraid the driver didn't see her but he hit the brakes and the truck
lurched to a stop.  From the back came the sound of flesh smacking against
sheet metal and another high-pitched cry of mingled pain and ecstacy.

   It took Renee a minute to explain why she had jumped in front of the
speeding vehicle.  When the driver didn't seem to absorb the ten-year-old's
excited and somewhat disjointed explanation, she simply took his hand and
dragged him to the rear of his vehicle.  He stopped dead when he saw Karen.
I guess seeing a naked preteen skewered on his trailer hitch was kind of a
surprise.  She was thrashing wildly.  Her knees were raised and bent and
her delicate toes were scrabbling for purchase on the bumper.  Thick,
creamy foam, tinged with pink, covered her crotch and point of penetration
and oozed out and around the hitch, plopping onto the dirt.  Her head was
thrown back, tangled blond hair tossing across her bare back.  Her face was
stretched into a rictus, blue eyes wide and unseeing.  The cords in her
neck stood out.  "Ooooooooooh, oooooooooooh, ooooooooooooh," she moaned
urgently.  Her hands reached out at the end of their binding chain.  I
realized she was trying to grab onto the tailgate sill and pull herself
harder down onto the hitch but her body's spasms wouldn't let her.

   Renee was trying to talk to her big sister as I walked up but Karen was
beyond hearing, trapped in her sexual seizure.  "She's having orgasms and
orgasms and orgasms," Renee said to me as I stood behind the driver's
shoulder.  He was thoroughly bemused.

   "She sure is," I said, breathing in the overwhelming reek of sex juices
and perspiration rising off the twelve-year-old like heat waves off
asphalt. What Renee meant was Karen had reached her breaking point.  I knew
she tried to fuck at least daily at home but, what with school and church
and choir and homework, it wasn't always possible.  It was only on these
little trips that she was able to really obey her body's remorseless need.
And now after days of nearly nonstop prostitution, plus sexually abusing
seven-year-old Lilah, her tender pre-teen body had at last reached its
limit.  Wave after wave of nonstop orgasmic contractions took her.  Her
expression was blank, nothing but pure animal pleasure filled her eyes, her
mind, her flesh.  She would keep cumming until she passed out, and then an
extra-strong convulsion would wake her up again.

   I laid my hand on the driver's shoulder.  "You know what?  I think it's
time for a hayride."

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