The nightmare was the same. Dee Dee, barely sixteen and virginal, lay writhing, naked, strapped spread-eagled on the bed, awaiting the onslaught of the faceless man's huge, throbbing, threatening cock as he poised between her legs. She lay trembling in her innocence and terror yet seemed to be above it all, a disembodied, spiteful spirit, heckling, nagging and screaming, "Fuck her… stick it in her hot hole… fuck her, she wants it." The spirit was right, she did want it but feared his terrible pole of meat. She had to be too small, it would split her in two.
Dee Dee was barely five feet and didn't weigh a hundred pounds. Her wheat-colored, billowy, shoulder-length hair flared about her childlike face. Her brown eyes were innocent pools of promise, and her small pouting wet lips seemed to beg for kissing or to encircle and suck tenderly on a pulsating prick. Her skin was pinkish white satin over a perfectly proportioned size 3 doll body. Only her breasts marred the symmetrical proportion. They were firm, voluptuous milky globes of hidden sexual pleasure but slightly too large for her body. Her waist was ridiculously tiny. Her broad hips flared heart-sllaped to sponge rubber soft legs. Although only sixteen, Dee Dee was a grown woman. Still, the faceless man's cock was as thick and as long as her arm.
A hideous laugh erupted from somewhere behind his blurred mask as he savagely battered her knees apart then poised his throbbing cudgel at her quivering, virginal, wanting cunt lips. However, when he lunged, instead of the feeling of pain or pleasure, or whatever it was a cock entry into her salivating furnace should feel like, there was nothing but frustration. The heat of her needing quim melted his wondrous wax prick as fast as he drove it in, and she awoke again, panting, trembling, and unfulfilled.
Damn, what was the matter with her? Why was she saving herself? Was her Aunt Clara correct, was intercourse a painful, dirty, ugly thing or was Auntie wrong?
The girls in her class were split. Some said it was heaven once you were broken and even the breaking was in doubt. Sara and Joy claimed it didn't hurt a bit. Alice, Mary, and Sue, and others, said it hurt awfully bad. Sara laughed them off and said they had picked a boy to do a man's job. Others agreed with her aunt and said it was dirty, ugly and that all men were animals. Dee Dee shook her head in confusion and indecision while unconsciously knelling at the dull ache so deep behind her hard flat stomach muscles.
That damn ache. When did it come? How long had she had it? Then she remembered it had appeared after her first masturbation a year or so ago. That's when it started, but why wouldn't it go away? It was an ache yet not an ache. An itch, yet more. It was like a craving for sweets, or dill pickles, or, or… heaven help her, COCK. Yes. That's what she wanted, a man's prick stuck in her. But she was afraid. She was so terribly small.
What did it feel like? Dee Dee allowed her fingers to explore herself. Her mons veneris rose softly from her velutinous stomach like a gentle silken-haired hill, then sloped to her pouty hot, love-juiced slick cunt. Dee Dee knew she couldn't get at the ache but at least she could… Oh yes!! She cupped her swollen cunt and gently rub-pressed in a circular motion. Oh yes! Yes! The warmth appeared slowly, but nudging and agitating her ache-monster. She rubbed faster, harder. The warmth turned into a pleasurable glow, to a luxurious blanket of sensual joy. Oh God! Oh shit! How could this be ugly, dirty? She kicked the sheets off her and lifted her splayed knees high while dancing her fingers over her demanding hot love hole. It felt so good… so good. She slammed her fingers around the puffy, wet, pleasurable cunt lips and felt the slippery silkiness of her vulva. God! Her cunt was alive. It was actually drawing her finger into the erogenous chalice, begging her to soothe and ease her growling ache-monster. She shouldn't do it… she couldn't… then, she bit her lip. To hell with it. She had to try. She cautioned her finger in and felt for the craving so deep in her belly.
The sudden pain made her wince and gasp. Her cherry! Her maidenhead! She withdrew her finger, cupped her quim and rubbed frantically to restore the pleasure. Oh God! It felt good! Good! GOOD! The heat again turned to joy, to bliss, to rapture, to… She was going to come. Oh God! Oh God! She arched her back and lifted her flaming, swollen quim high and rubbed frantically to still the terrible itch behind her cherry. It helped some, but she needed cock, prick, fucking, fucking, Fucking! Ohh! Ohr! She clutched her teeth as the building rapturous joy radiated from her wet, burning hole to every fiber in her body. She was going to… to…
She thrashed and bucked while rubbing wantonly at her volatile, explosive, drooling slot. Her head was slamming from side to side in ecstatic agony. "EI! EI!" She tensed, suspended, her whole body frozen except for her quivering fingers. Then the exquisite bliss exploded, rocketed throughout her body and blew her mind. Oh God! Oh God! She jerked from the spasm then collapsed on the bed.
She was spent and drained but contented. She lay until she caught her breath, then rose reluctantly to ready for school. She was satisfied, wasn't she? The masturbation had stilled her chewing monster hadn't it? She moved cautiously to the bathroom and entered the shower. It seemed to be gone. Maybe she didn't have to worry about getting broken-in. Maybe her problem was over. Oh, she hoped so. The decision to become a woman or not had been driving her crazy. The dull ache-monster began growling again as she soaped her vagina in the shower. Damn! Shit! What was she going to do?
Aunt Clara reminded Dee Dee, as she had every day since old Mr. Doyle had left on his vacation, "Don't forget to feed Mr. Doyle's birds and take in his mail."
"Yes, Aunt Clara."
"And take your umbrella. It's raining out."
It was that. Darn, she hated to walk in the rain. Hated it, hated it, hated it! She got the umbrella, picked up her lunch and kissed Aunt Clara a peck on the cheek.
"Oh no you don't!" Aunt Clara encircled her with soft warm arms and hugged. "You never leave the house without giving me some sugar." She tried to kiss Dee Dee's mouth, but Dee Dee gave her a cheek instead. "Now straight home with you. We have to give your room a thorough going over tonight. Hear?"
Dee Dee gave her a smile and left the house. Aunt Clara sure was a strange one, insisting on hugging and kissing her, treating her like a child. We do the room tonight! Nuts! I'll be the one who does the room while she just stands and gripes. What I ought to do is let her watch me masturbate.
It was really pouring. Dee Dee aimed the umbrella into the storm and ran the two houses down to Mr. Doyle's. She fed the parakeets then checked the house for open windows. The upstairs bedroom was open and rain was splattering onto the dresser. Dee Dee closed the window then found herself an unobserved window pecker as she looked directly down and into the Raft's kitchen window. Good Heavens!!! Mrs. Raft wasn't behaving at all as Dee Dee expected or thought she would.
Mrs. Raft was old, maybe forty or forty-two, and a prim, tight-lipped, church-going God-shouter. She wore her mousy brown hair in a tight bun, dressed in high-necked, baggy, plain dresses and walked about in black, low-heeled no-nonsense shoes. Dee Dee had never thought of her as a woman, nor believed in a million years that Mrs. Raft would be doing what she was doing right now.
Dee Dee shied to the side of the window so Mrs. Raft couldn't see her if she looked up, even though Dee Dee knew she wouldn't. No woman would, doing what Mrs. Raft was doing.
Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus! Dee Dee raised her skirt and felt for her glowing, oozing, itching crevice. Mrs. Raft was sitting on the edge of the kitchen table and leaning back on her hands. Her hair was hanging loose, her robe was open, exposing a thin pasty body, and her legs were around the waist of bare-assed, fat Mr. Thomas, the milkman.
Mr. Thomas had his mouth over one of Mrs. Raft's small, baggy titties and was… was fucking her!
Oh Jesus!! Dee Dee rubbed at her flaming pussy. He was fucking her! Dee Dee couldn't actually see his cock but there was no doubt. Mrs. Raft's head was back, her eyes shut, her mouth contorting in soundless words as she tried to push more of her glistening breast into his mouth and draw him nearer with her scissor-thigh grip. He sucked and nuzzled and chewed her titties while his ass moved slowly back and forth, back and forth.
Oh God! Fucking had to be good. Aunt Clara had to be wrong. Dee Dee worked her fingers under her panties and tickled and teased her love-juiced, slippery vulva lips. Shivers of lustful delight cascaded throughout her body. Oh!!! Fucking had to, be good! She eased her finger up and gently rubbed her hard erect clitoris.
"MMMmmm! MMMmmm!" she moaned. The volatile clitty radiated delicious currents of erotic electricity and probe-teased her itchy ache-monster.
Mr. Thomas was driving into Mrs. Raft hard now. He was holding her ass completely off the table, his teeth and mouth clamped on her tit. He was really ramming it into her.
Dee Dee's breasts were full, straining and aching her, nipples hard and hurting against her bra. Just once she wanted to feel what it felt like to have her breasts sucked like that. Just once… "Ohhh." The pleasurable, incandescent glow had thickened to a sensuous, explosive rapture. She rubbed frantically at her leaking, burning cunt for relief… for joy… for… for!!!
She watched Mr. Thomas driving his ass like a pile driver, then stopping suddenly to grind it into Mrs. Raft. He had come. She knew Mrs. Raft was screaming but couldn't actually hear her because of the rain and the distance. Mrs. Raft's mouth was open, her teeth clinched, her arms around Mr. Thomas and she was digging with her fingers. She was coming. But… "Ohhh. Ohh! Ahhh," Dee Dee rubbed and bucked against her palm. She wanted to be fucked… to be fucked… to be fucked! "Ohhh, gaawwdd…" Her vagina disintegrated in ecstatic jerking spasms and she had to stop.
She lay against the wall and caught her breath. Her hand was slippery wet with her come, and she felt like sleeping, but her damned monster was still there. Shit! Shit! She would have to do something. Either stop playing with herself or let some boy fuck her. She looked at the clock on the dresser. It was 7:45 already. Good heavens! She had to get humping or she would be late for school. Then again, maybe she wouldn't be late. She remembered Mr. Doyle's 1932 Model "A" Ford when she saw the car keys next to the clock. Well… now!! Maybe she wouldn't be late and maybe she wouldn't have to walk in the rain after all. She could drive. Her older brother, Bo, had taught her to drive a stick shift a year ago. Why not? What harm could there be if she took the car? Mr. Doyle wouldn't be back for two weeks. Aunt Clara couldn't see down the block this far, and she would be careful. So, why not?
She stripped the cloth cover from the roadster and made a mental note to clean and polish the car when she brought it home after school. It started immediately. Dee Dee knew it would. Mr. Doyle treated it like a baby, always pampering and fixing it. She backed it out, closed the garage doors and started for school a mile away.
The old classic ran beautifully. She was sitting up so high. The wipers flip-flopping away the rain, the motor purring and the sound of raindrops splattering on the tin roof all gave Dee Dee a cozy, safe feeling as it did so many years ago when her mother and father had been alive. They were camped in the woods on rainy nights. She and Bo would huddle in their pup tent and play "Show and Tell" until they were bored, then fall asleep in each other's arms to the sound of the comforting rain. Dee Dee smiled at how dumb she had been for so long. Up until a year or so ago she actually thought the reason for her and Bo being banished to the pup tent was, as her mother had said, "To teach you independence."
Wait!! Show and Tell! Why hadn't she thought of it before? Bo was eighteen now, he would know about maidenheads. And she could talk to him. Bo had always been more than a brother to her. Ever since her mother and father had died in a car accident and Aunt Clara had taken them in, it had been Bo she turned to for comfort and advice.
At twelve it was Bo who had fought Aunt Clara for her first training bra. Bo who chaperoned on her first date. Bo who explained the menstrual cycle of a woman when she first noticed the blood and ran terrified into his room. Bo who always took her side and understood her feelings. So, he was more than a brother. He was her confidant, her strength, her idol, and she loved him.
The rain became a cloudburst at the intersection, obliterating everything beyond the hood. The windshield wipers were useless. Dee Dee waited, confident that it would pass in a minute or two. Damn the ache! Why didn't it go away? She squeezed her thighs together and wiggled, exerting pressure on her itching vagina. It felt good. There was a squealing of tires behind her and almost simultaneously she felt the sickening crash into the rear of the car. Even with her foot on the brake pedal, the car lurched forward. Dee Dee's head snapped backward. She was dazed, confused. What had happened?
Sounds vaguely filled the air, doors opening, excited voices, blurred shapes peeking in the windows. "Naw, she's not hurt… let's get out of here!"
"She could be hurt."
"Come on, let's get out of here!" She heard the shuffling of feet, doors opening again, closing… a motor racing, squealing tires. Then a blurred, water-shaped car sped past, fishtailing into the squall.
Dee Dee moved her head and body about. She was okay. But what had happened? The crash… oh my God!!! She scrambled out of the car. Oh no! Her heart seemed to stop, all her juices seeped into her stomach. The chrome bumper was smashed into a concave depression the size of a basketball and forced into the lower trunk. She was going to vomit. Mr. Doyle's pride and joy was destroyed. She held her mouth and swallowed hard. No by God, she wouldn't panic! She had to think, but not out here in the rain. She crawled back into the car. Alright… the damage was done. What was she going to do about it?
Call the police! Where was the phone? Those dirty suckers had hit her and run, that was a crime. The police would catch them. The car started with no trouble at all. Once the police found them they would have to pay for what they done to Mr. Doyle's car. They will… wait! She would have to testify against them in court. Mr. Doyle would find out about taking the car without permission. And, oh my God, what could she tell the police about driving the car? She couldn't call the police. She would have to get the car fixed herself. No, no, she didn't have any money. Wait… Bo! She could borrow it from him. He should have money. He'd worked steady since leaving home last year. Yes, that's it! She could borrow it from Bo and pay him back from what she earned babysitting. Her spirits rose. It was going to be all right. Now, where did Bo say he lived? Oak Street? Yes, in an apartment with two other guys. It was going to be all right… she just knew it would be.
Herbie was just leaving the apartment as she cleared the top step of the three-story walk-up.
"Hold it, Herbie!" She stopped him from closing the door. "Is Bo still home?"
Herbie's eyes took on that same funny look that made her suddenly feel undressed. "Yeah, Honey Pot. He's on afternoons, still asleep."
"Thanks, I have to talk to him," Dee Dee brushed by him and into the apartment.
"Throw money or let me pick the way to thank me," Herbie leered at her!
Dee Dee smiled as the door shut and muttered, "Creep!" She checked the kitchen, bath, and one bedroom. "Yoo-Hoo, Bo, where are you!"
"What!" It came from the last door down the hallway, "Who is it?"
Dee Dee opened the door, happy to see him. "Me… surprise!"
Bo was on his side, his back to her. He smiled his boyish grin, rolled over on his back and stretched to wake up. "Hi, Kitten… what's new?"
Dee Dee blushed. Bo's pecker was standing straight up outside his shorts and was waving at the ceiling. She couldn't take her eyes from it. The size, my God! The last time she remembered seeing it was back in the "Show and Tell" days. It was the size of her thumb and mostly loose skin. But now, it was frightening! Her deep ache itch stirred in her belly. It wasn't as big as her nightmare-faceless man but it had to be at least seven or eight inches long and as big around as her arm. She glanced furtively at Bo. She didn't know why she was afraid to let him see her looking at him, but she was. He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Well?" he asked.
Dee Dee had the damnedest urge to play "Show and Tell" again. She wanted to touch and feel that thing, look at it closely, examine and ponder. "Your… uh…" She didn't know how to put it. Oh to hell with it. Bo was her brother. "Your thing is out."
Bo glanced sheepishly at her and pulled a sheet over the wondrous tool. "Sorry, I just woke up. Means I have to pee. Say, how come you're here? Aren't you supposed to be in school?"
That brought Dee Dee back to reality. She sat on the bed and discussed her problem to a very attentive Bo. When she finished, Bo shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Kitten." He put his arms around her. "I'm flat broke. Herbie, Bruce, and I went to Vegas last weekend with a sure-fire way to beat blackjack. We didn't last twelve hours. None of us has a penny. We flat lost our ass, so to speak."
Dee Dee's heart sank. "Then what am I going to do?" She was close to tears. "You know old Mr. Doyle, he'll have me put in jail."
"I know, I know." Bo patted her shoulder while thinking. "Say," his face lit up, "It's only body damage, right?"
Dee Dee nodded. "Isn't that enough?"
"But that's what Herbie and Bruce are… body and fender men. They'll do it. You can pay them later. Hand me the phone."
Dee Dee handed it to him. After dialing Bo said, "Herbie? Bo. Look, my sister has a small problem." Then he explained. After a short pause he got a disgusted look on his face, "You gotta be kidding. She's my sister… ok, ok, I'll tell her, but, it's a crummy thing to do," and he hung up.
"What's a crummy thing to do? You'll ask me what?"
"Look Kitten." Bo didn't seem too happy. "They'll do it but… under certain conditions."
"But what? I'll pay them when I get the money, I told you that."
"It's not money they want," he said as he lowered his head. "They want you."
"Want me?" Dee Dee didn't understand. "What do they want me for? What are you talking about?"
Bo became annoyed. "Oh come on, you know what I'm talking about. They want you to go to bed with them. You're on the pill, aren't you? So, it's either fuck them or go to jail. You have your choice."
"Yesss… I'm on the pill," Dee Dee stammered. She kept them at school. She had been taking them for the past six months just in case… in case. Oh hell, that damnable itch again and at a time like this.
"Ok, there's your answer. You give them a little and they'll fix the car." He threw back the covers, baring his huge tool to the world. "Let me up. I gotta pee to get rid of this thing."
Dee Dee's brain was mini-second crackling like a computer. She had been debating if she should or shouldn't for the past six months. She wanted to, but because she was so small the thought of pain had stayed with her. Now at least half her problem was decided, she would have to fuck if she wanted to stay out of jail. She took in the length and breadth of Bo's cock as he seemed to walk past her in a slow motion. My God, it was big! But then, maybe they all were his size. She had never seen one nor felt one since "Show and Tell" days. But she was a woman. She was capable of having children and surely babies were a lot bigger than that.
Still, she didn't want to be hurt. Surely Bo wouldn't hurl her. He had never hurt her and was old enough to know about maidenheads and everything. Her ache was back. Her cunt was drooling almost as badly as when she finished masturbating. Bo was halfway out the door, his stiff monster straight out and swaying with each step. A man needed a hard-on to break cherry's. She knew that much, and Bo was on his way to pee his off.
"Wait," she almost coughed it out.
"I'll be back," Bo said and kept walking.
"No, please wait!"
Bo stopped. "I'm just going to pee, I'll be right back."
"Just listen… I'll do it."
"Great." Bo didn't seem too happy and turned back around again.
"Will you listen to me?"
Bo stopped and returned, his boyish smile apologizing, "All right, Kitten. I can hold it if you don't mind looking at my bare honker."
Dee Dee grinned at his embarrassment. This was Bo, her brother. She could talk straight to him, he would understand. "What I want to say concerns your honker. I'm a virgin."
Astonishment flooded Bo's face. "You're…?"
"Don't interrupt me now. Just listen, then you can say yes or no!" She took a deep breath. "I know the only way to get the car fixed is to sleep with Herbie and Bruce. I've accepted that. I don't like the idea, but, if I must, I must. Ok, now I'm a virgin, and awfully small. I… I don't want either of them breaking me because I think they will hurt me." She knew she was blushing in spite of everything she told herself. "What I'm saying is… I want you to do it."
Bo's expressions were a grab-bag of emotions and he knew it. He couldn't have heard right. His beautiful, delicate, soft, voluptuous sister wanted him to fuck her. His cock twitched. Oh Jesus, Mother Mary, would he ever!