The shame came a month later, when Larry, the boy from school who used to dry-hump her in the back seat of his car, called unexpectedly. She hadn't returned to school; hadn't seen him since weeks before the afternoon with Lew. He asked when she'd be back in class, and she told him next term. He asked if she'd like to go for a ride, and she accepted.
She waited on the front porch, avoiding her parents. It had been fun with them at first, but now the nightly trysts with Daddy were beginning to overlap the morning "housecleaning" sessions. Sometimes she overheard them arguing about her, shouting accusations that were true but nonetheless terrible to hear. What she needed was a boyfriend, she decided, someone who'd fill her spare time, and show Mummy and Daddy she didn't need them – didn't need anyone. Larry was to be it!
It was almost dark when he arrived in a spanking new convertible, top down, tooting the horn and waving. She leaped from the steps, in love with the moon, the spring air, anticipating his reaction when they parked and he saw the black pantyhose and she let him go all the way.
"Man, oh man!" Larry breathed, reaching to open the passenger door. He eyed her trim legs, her swelling tits. "Jeez! You sure have changed! You were just a kid, and now you look like something out of a hot girlie magazine."
"Like?" She spun around, light-headed, showing off the new white knit mini. She knew Daddy was watching them from the front window, but she was determined to make him sweat, to prove once and for all that she was grown-up, and that neither Daddy nor Mummy could go on treating her as a mere child.
"C'mon baby, let's cut out for our parking space in the woods." Larry patted the seat.
She grinned. Abruptly she climbed into the car and sat on his hand.
"Jeez!" He cupped a plump buttock in his palm.
She leaned close, kissing him lightly on the lips. She liked the warmth of his fingers curled beneath her round bottom; liked the uncertain look in his eyes, as if he were wondering if she was for real or maybe something that might go away before he could get some. Again she glanced toward the house; Daddy was still at the window. "We'd better go," she said, lifting so he could remove his hand.
Larry studied her a moment more before putting the car in gear, and pointing the nose toward the corner. She settled back, her head resting against the cool leather and humming the tune wafting softly from the radio. She watched his hands coax the wheel to the left, tipping them with the turn. She sighed, speculating on how he would act – whether he'd be gentle or ram his cock in like a furious bull – once they were alone in the dark, settling like a blue-black cape over the colorful sunset.
The drive out to "the point", where most of the kids from school went to neck and make love, was heavenly. She'd forgotten how majestic the tall evergreens were, how sweet-smelling. She breathed deep of the pine scent as Larry steered the car into their private spot beneath the low branches. There was another car parked nearby, but she took only cursory notice. She was too eager, too excited at the prospect of another long dick pumping cum up her belly to suspect what was in store.
"Want a cigarette first?" Larry silenced the engine, turned toward her.
"First?" She wanted to tease, to prolong it. She wanted him to treat her as if she were his steady girl, someone special. She wanted to be wooed before she opened her legs and let him use the sweet little slit in her pussy.
"Before we fuck!" he said bluntly. "Shit, I know what goes on at the State Home for Girls, baby. I know a few chicks who did time there, so don't play the goody-good innocent bit with me!"
Wendy frowned. Her heart thumped furiously. There was something in the way he spoke that frightened her: he was no longer the boy who'd been polite and just a little bit shy on dates, happy to get a cheap feel and a dry fuck.
She sat up tall, thrusting her pointy breasts at him. "Take me home," she said.
Larry grunted, and moved close. "I'll take you home, awright. After you give us some of what we came up here for." His hand shot under the hem of the dress, gripping her crotch. He forced her down on the seat, fingers probing.
Wendy gasped – not so much because the hand was mauling her pussy; she was used to being abused. But now her eyes grown accustomed to the dark, she saw the grinning boys in the other car, with no girls, and realized that the "we" Larry had threatened had to be them.
As if the strangers in the other car had read her mind, the doors opened and out stepped one, two, three…
My God! thought Wendy. There were four of them! Did Larry actually intend to subject her to a five-man gang-bang? Five stiff cocks? There simply weren't enough holes in her body, and she knew she'd never survive if they took her one by one in her tiny pink cunthole.
"You let me go!" she hissed, breaking free and trying to climb over the backrest as the four laughing boys started toward them.
Larry's hands closed tight on her waist. "We ain't gonna hurt you none, baby. Just a shot of hot cunt. You can do it. I bet you took lots more than we have to offer up at the home." He bent her far forward, her torso suspended over the back seat, with her hips and her cute little round ass propped high in the air.
She was helpless, arms flailing, legs held by his weight. The others surrounded the car; "Hey man," said one. "What you got there?"
Larry chuckled obscenely. One hand slipped from her waist, tracing the valley where the pantyhose were stuck deep in the crack of her bottom. "Hot stuff," he said, twisting the nylon along with his finger up her pinched asshole.
"No! Oh God, no!" Wendy thrashed about helplessly. It hurt, hurt something awful, the panthose burning her sphincters as the finger bored in. "Oh! Oh Larry, please stop. STOP!"
"You're fucking her up," observed a boy with wild hair and legs that seemed to be a mile long. He climbed over the side of the car into the back seat. Cupping her chin in one hand, he undid the zipper down the front of his filthy jeans. "What this momma needs is some tenderness," he added, freeing his uncircumcised cock and rubbing the awful half-hard thing in her face.
Wendy recoiled. She had never before seen what the girls at the home called an unkosher joint. It was the ugliest thing she'd ever seen. Horrid! She backed away, then wailed because the move forced the rigid finger and grating nylon further up her tight asshole. "Lookit that be-hind!" groaned a third boy, as Larry yanked the pantyhose down off her hips, exposing her ass cheeks. "I got seconds, man."
"Shit, you got!" someone objected. Fingers tore into her cunthole. "Larry first, me second, then the rest of you guys."
"So fucking do it already, before I cum in my pants. But leave them kinky panty leggin's on. I dig it that way."
Wendy couldn't believe what was happening to her. This wasn't the girl's reformatory, yet she was again being attacked – and used like never before.
Rough hands were tearing the new dress off over her head, stripping her of her underclothes. The filthy, uncircumcised cock was butting her closed lips, trying to make her open, to make her suck; and to each side, wherever she looked, there was stiff man meat waiting to spurt cream into her. And behind, kneeling on the front seat, was Larry – the fucking bastard was setting the head of his dick at the lips of her pussy.
"I won't! I won't!" She moved her ass furiously, dislodging him.
"Lousy bitch!" An open hand came down hard on her bare bottom, the whap! drowning her cry. The hand fell again, and again and again and again, until she stopped struggling. "That's fucking better," growled Larry, setting the hot tip of his rod at the swollen lips of her vulva once more. He inched closer, pushed the pants and shorts further down his legs. "Now…!"
"Ohah! Oh God, no… ohhhh…" She felt his big prick glide smoothly up her wet pussy, and began to whimper. But the sounds that came from her throat were no, longer the protests of a moment before. She couldn't help liking it. As with Lew and the others – Doctor Bruce, Daddy, everyone who'd stuck something up her hot, hairy hole – her belly began sucking him up, up into her.
Rape! her mind cried. Larry was using her body, cruelly bludgeoning her sweet little pink gash, and she – what was wrong with her anyway? She was wiggling back onto the stiffness, taking all he had to offer and searching for more.
"That's the way, honey. Wiggle. Fuck back." Larry's hand slipped under her belly, his fingers weaving through her red curls. The other hand cupped her left breast. Still another – she didn't know whose hand it was, didn't care – slid clown the crack of her uptilted ass, opened her sphincter and drove two fingers into her rectum.
"Open your mouth, beautiful!" The boy with the uncircumcised rod had dropped his pants. Hands at either side of her head, he bent her neck back, forcing her mouth open. Then he fucked the ugly thing in, and said, "Ahhhhhhh!"
Wendy gagged. She felt the big dick in her belly pull back for a stab at the same time the one in her face began to bore into her throat. "Oh God, no!" she choked, watching the lengthy cylinder disappear into her throat like a railroad spike being pounded home. They were killing her – flooding her with the hot blush of shame. They were fucking her every which way, with hands and fingers, stiff, throbbing pricks. Wrinkled sacs swung at her chin, more smacking her plump little bottom, still more dangling from the three cocks waiting their turn to degrade her.
"Motherfucker!" exclaimed the voice belonging to the fingers reaming her rectum. "For a chick who was complaining a minute ago, she sure wants it now. This asshole – man!" Another barb found its way up her gaping asshole. "I ain't never seen an asshole nip like this one. Honest to Christ!"
Wendy wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. Although she tried and tried, not wanting to let them know that inside her little round belly there was a fire only cum could subdue, her body refused to obey, refused to rebel. Only her mind held back and saw her degradation. Her hot, hairy holes were a mass of quivering nerve ends: she had no morals, no shame. Even the terrible thing in her mouth had begun to taste good. She felt it, the hunk of unkosher meat at the tip butting her tonsils. She saw it, the slick shaft sliding into her face before the boy's hips went into reverse and drove further than any prick had ever before penetrated: all the way in to her gullet, down into her stomach, it seemed.
"That's it! That's it! Ah, baby – baby! Fuck! Keep fucking! That's it – aaahhhh!!"
Larry's weight came down on her back, his loins glued to her rump, throwing her farther forward and mashing her glistening lips into the other boy's wiry cockhair. Jism began to pour up her tight little cunthole.
"Ummmm! Oh yes!!" She wiggled for more. Her teeth locked at the roots of the prick in her mouth. The boy she was sucking grunted, clutched her head in both hands, and ground and pumped until his rod pissed cum too.
The other boys, those waiting to get at her, made obscene comments, squeezing her titties and her ass. But Wendy heard only the slosh of Larry's cock dipping in and out of her belly. She felt only the cum pouring off – the white sticky stuff oozing out and down the inside of her thighs, down her chin, and her neck. Her hands went eagerly to the fat sacs jerking below the prick in her mouth. She fucked her hips back into Larry and kneaded the balls in her palm, coaxing out more cream and sucking it in at both ends. Her head was a merry-go-round: the gaily colored horses went up each time the dicks stabbed, coming down to shoot up again with each blast of semen, round and round, faster and faster until the night was a breathless kaleidoscope. And her clit, the sensitive little pink hardon protruding from the sopping wet gash Larry was humping his fiery prick into, began to vibrate and quiver, flinging her over the precipice of orgasm.
She gulped in protest when the hot prick in her belly popped suddenly free, leaving an emptiness, an ache like a tooth in need of filling, that sucked in the cool, piney air. But the limp thing was gone only a moment when another – stiffer, pulsing with the need to shoot cream up her hole – began to pump inch by grating inch up her tight, wet little-girl cunt. And then the one in her face was gone too, taking with it cum and saliva as the boy made room for another – no, two! The boys couldn't decide who was to be next, and so both were going to use her sweet mouth simultaneously.
"I… I… ow!!" The new dick was so hard, so good, that she fucked her cunt furiously back onto the boy who had taken Larry's place. "I can't do both at once," she whispered. But she opened her lips and swirled her tongue greedily over the nearest dickhead.
"You can do it, girlie." The boy to her left, whose cock was no bigger than a fat nickel cigar, began to rub the head of it all over her smooth, flushed face.
Wendy wanted to bite him, to make him cry out, make them stop. They had no right doing such perverted things to her. But the prick up her cunt was so good she couldn't help wanting more. She fucked back, back, wiggling. She stared at the cock bobbing before her green-lidded eyes. A small drop of clear lubricant appeared at the aperture in the bright red tip – almost as red as her own pussy curls, she thought. Unable to resist, she captured the cute rod in her hand and licked the pearl drop away.
"Gimme some of that good girlie tongue," said the other boy, stepping close, his rigid dick bathed in moonlight and jerking like a live electrical wire.
"No. Not two."
"Man…!" The boy's hand came roughly down at the back of her head. "You'll suck it or else!"
Resistance was futile, she knew. Doubled up over the backrest, the boy behind grunting and clutching her cheeks as he stoked rapidly in and out between her young, open thighs, she was helpless, at their mercy. They had only to choose what they wanted, and she had to comply. Larry had seen to that. He'd tricked, her into coming along to the secluded place: a lamb brought to the slaughter. She'd never again be able to look at herself in the mirror, she was certain, never be able to forget. It was dirty and sinful and… oh, and her tiny cunthole simply couldn't stop loving the big, bludgeoning cock.
"Motherfucker, what a mouth. Didn't I say she could do it?" The boy with the miniature prick forced half the length into her face. "Go, baby. Suck!"
Whimpering, hating herself and the horrid boys, Wendy drew the second rod in on her tongue. It was impossible; not even Daddy's sex book, which contained pictures of every position imaginable, girls who did everything, not even that dared to suggest mouthing two throbbing hardons. Yet they were in her, stretching her lips to where she thought for sure the skin at the corners of her little pink mouth was going to tear; beginning to move in and out, in and out, working slowly but insistently toward orgasm.
She closed her eyes, barely able to breathe. She concentrated on Daddy's long, veiny rod, which was almost as big around as the two in her throat. She remembered the feel of him cuming up her asshole. She panted and strained, wanting it over but wishing someone – perhaps Larry, but she didn't really care who – would find a way to squeeze between her and the boy fucking her cunthole, and grind another stiff prick up her trembling behind.
When it was over, when each boy had taken a turn and every hole in her body was swollen and sore, Larry pushed her out of the car and told her to dress. He and the others watched, smoking and making fun of her because the pantyhose were torn at the crotch, and no matter how hard she tried tugging, adjusting them every which way on her hips, her red pussy showed through.
There was a sting in her eyes by the time she pulled the new dress, the white knit now stretched out of shape and stained, on over her aching head. She held her tears back. Setting her jaw, head high, she stepped toward the car.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" snapped Larry from behind the wheel.
"I… I…"
"You shit!" He laughed. The other boys, leaning on the front fenders of the other car, joined him. Larry turned the ignition key and the motor roared.
"You… you can't just go," she squeaked, realizing that he meant to leave her there in the woods, miles and miles from home. Fury banished the shame. "I… I'll tell!" she squalled, searching the moonlit ground at her feet for a big rock to hit him with. "I… I'll have you all… you… I."
She paused to chew her lip as the other boys climbed into the car, the driver gunning the engine. "Ohhhh… I'll tell the police and have you all locked up forever and ever!"
"Who the fuck'd believe you?" Again Larry laughed, an ugly, mocking sound. Extending his finger, he backed the convertible out from under the low branches. The other car made a wide backward arch, joining him.
"Thanks for the suck-off, baby," called the boy with the awful uncircumcised cock.
"Yeah!" hollered another, "We'll come see you next time we got a load for your mouth."
"Or next time we want Rome good cunt," added the one who'd followed Larry, fucking a second hot gush of liquid juice up her pussy.
Wendy's cheeks burned. Her gaze settled on the weapon she'd been hunting. The horns began to toot, the cars nosing toward the narrow dirt road off the point. Quickly she bent for the rock, stood and flung it.
"Come back," she wailed, watching the rock drop impotently behind Larry's convertible. Again she stomped her foot; she yelped in pain from the dumb stone that had gotten inside her shoe. The tears came. She shivered, crying as she watched the red taillights blink and listened to the jeers fade into the night.
It took her almost an hour to walk down from the point to the main highway, and already it was past curfew. She knew Daddy would be furious – more so because he'd ranted and raged when she first mentioned the date with Larry. Now she felt like the little girl he and Mummy said she was: vulnerable, in need of protection. She stood at the side of the road not knowing what to do, wanting to cry again but all out of tears.
At the far end of the highway, like the bright eyes of a panther racing out of the night, she saw headlights. Were they coming back? she wondered. She could imagine them stopping somewhere for coffee, discussing her threats, and jumping back into the cars to come rescue her.
Well, it'd do them absolutely no good! she decided. Her legs trembling from the long walk, her body and cunthole aching, she watched the twin beams draw near. She'd teach them! she thought. She wouldn't get in – no matter how tired she was, no matter how much they pleaded and said they were sorry. Turning, she began to walk along the side of the highway.
The car jerked to a stop at the shoulder directly beside her. The door opened. "Want a lift, honey?"
Wendy blinked at the elderly man leaning across the front seat. She'd been so sure it would be Larry that the stranger caught her off guard.
The door opened wider. The man smiled. "C'mon," he said in a deep, soothing voice. "You look beat, kid. Just tell me where, I'll drop you at the front gate."
Wendy fidgeted. "I… I…"
"Okay, then. I was just trying to help." The car door started to close.
"No wait!" she cried. "I've been walking for hours and hours. My boyfriend… I… he…"
She stepped into the car, welcoming the softness of the cool leather beneath her sore bottom and legs. She looked wide-eyed into the man's face. He seemed pleasant enough – old enough to be her Grandpa, with gray at his temple and wrinkles above bushy brows. She drew a sharp breath and pulled her tummy in tight when he reached suddenly across her. She bit her lip, expecting the worst. But then he closed the door and winked, and sat straight behind the wheel; she went gratefully limp, watching him set the big car in motion.
The hum of the tires was soothing. She huddled in a ball in the passenger corner of the front seat, not wanting to doze. But the man was paying no attention to her; he was staring dead ahead, concentrating on the highway that went on and on and on, like an endless ribbon of concrete from nowhere to nowhere.
She nodded, slipping lower on the cool leather, not caring that the mini rode high on her tightly closed thighs. Her lids refused not to close. There were two tiny men sprinkling sand at the back of her eyes, and the car's rhythm, the unbroken pace, was crooning a sweet little girl lullaby to her.
She was dreaming. The man had taken her all the way home and put her to bed, and Daddy, her wonderful daddy, had come silently into the room. Now he was kissing her thighs, fingers coaxing her legs gently apart so he could get at the torn crotch in the black pantyhose. She sighed, rearranging her legs. She heard him groan – felt his wet mouth washing the dried cum from her little red pussy. She loved that. She loved it when Daddy, when anyone with a moist tongue, was nice to her down there.
She felt the rubbery thing dart up her sore cuntlips, and then down. She trembled. Daddy hadn't been this nice to her in such a long time. He was always taking what he wanted of her; like Larry and the others, Doctor Bruce, the matrons and girls at the home, he was always making her sob and beg before he climbed between her gaping thighs to fuck his dick up her asshole. She didn't understand that: Daddy said they could never do it the right way, because she was his own little girl, and no matter how much he wanted her the right way, no matter how often they fooled around and he fucked her every other way, be would never allow himself to put cum in her cunt. She supposed it had something to do with her getting pregnant. Still, it was stupid: grown-up dumb! But although it hurt something fierce up her rear, and made her whimper and strain when she went to the bathroom next morning, it was worth it to have Daddy do what he was now doing to her tingling clit.
Moaning, hips and ass already in motion, she lifted when he tugged at the cumbersome pantyhose. She felt the undergarment slip down and off. She opened her legs, waiting, wanting the dream to last, wanting to feel the hurt of Daddy humping his dick up her asshole.
"Don't wake up," a strange voice whispered. "Sleep tight, sweet little girl. Open your legs, your pretty red pussy, but keep your eyes closed."
Her eyes refused to obey the soft command. She was in the man's car, not her bedroom, she suddenly realized, and the fat dickhead between her cum-crusted thighs didn't belong to Daddy. Not her daddy, anyway.
Her mouth opened. But the halfhearted protest was silenced by the electric-like thrill of the man's long, veiny cock forcing its way in one mighty lunge up her cunthole.
"I won't hurt you," he choked, lifting her hips, reaching beneath her to take hold of the plump, quivering halves of her gyrating bottom.
She knew it would do no good to object: it never did, not since Lew Ogden. She was beginning to think of herself – her curly red pussy, her asshole, her mouth – as a jism receptacle. Everywhere she went, everything she did, no matter how innocently the day began, it always ended in fucking. There was something about her, some mysterious part of her that drew stiff pricks and abuse as sticky paper draws flies.
Yet the joint in her slippery cunt wasn't abusing her. It was basking up there, the glans drinking in her warmth. It felt good. So good she now wished he'd undressed before parking at the side of the highway and putting it in. She wanted to feel his fat balls, to heft and compare them with the memory of those she'd held up at the point. She wanted to tell him to take the stupid pants and shorts off, and ram the last inch of hard dick up her sopping wet twat.
Instead she said, "I didn't say you could…"
The man raised up, looking long and hard into her eyes. What he saw brought a wide, knowing grin. "But you do, don't you?" he said finally.
"Do-ow. Owummm! D-Do what?"
He laughed. He fucked his hips slowly back, withdrawing all but the tip of his prick from her pulsating cunthole. "You want it. This!" He made the glans expand and contract against her swollen love bud.
Wendy gasped. She wiggled herself up off the seat, pussy snapping, sucking him back in to the hilt. Men! They thought they were so smart! Every last one took advantage of her helplessness, making her do all sorts of horrid, perverty things. And then, when her cheeks stopped burning in shame, when it began to get good for her too, really good, they invariably did something rotten. Like the man now taking pleasure from the smooth pinkness between her creamy young thighs; pulling it out like that and making her pull it in, making her gasp with need and embarrassment. She could see the triumph mingled with lust in his deepset brown eyes. She could feel the sense of conquest in the way he was stoking half the length of his cock in and out, in and out. He had her, he knew: she couldn't stop now if the National Guard appeared with machine guns and dogs, and tried to yank her away.
"Tell me you want it," he said, coming down on her once more, kissing her neck, her ear. "Say, fuck me, mister! Fuckout my cunt real food!"
"No-No."
The hands on her ass began to knead, bruising the tender white mounds of flesh. "Say it! Say 'Please, mister, fuck your hard dick up my round, teenage belly! Make my tight little pussy sore. Fill me with hot cum!'"
"Oh…!" The dirty words made her giddy. He knew – darn it, anyway! She couldn't hide the empty ache in her sweet cunthole. She didn't know why a big dick always did her that way; she didn't know why it made her so wanton and willing to do anything, anything at all, to make the cream spurt and pour out and down the inside of her thighs. She knew only that she couldn't help saying the words, couldn't help wanting more of what the mall had shoved up her pussy. Hard cock! The harder the better! Long and stiff and throbbing, with the jism jacking its way up from his big, hairy balls.
"Please, mister," she gasped. "Fuck it all the way up me. Up me hard! Up my wet pussy! Hard! Real hard!"
The man's laughter was harsh, cruel. He paused for a moment, as if considering the best way to go about screwing in the confinement of the front seat. Taking firm hold of the cheeks of her ass, he grunted and sat up, taking her with him. "God that's good, baby! Fucking good! Put your feet up."
Wendy felt his bulbous cockhead at the inside roots of her belly button. Suddenly she was astride his lap, legs wide. Tentatively she placed her feet on the seat at either side of his thighs, opening her wet cunthole still more. She glanced down, and moaned. Now she could see him. In the dim light from the dashboard, she could see the hard cylinder of manmeat protruding from the grotto below her curly red wedge; could see his wiry cockhair, like a burst of black Brillo standing away from the open pants and shorts. Again she wished he'd taken the cumbersome garments off before putting it in. She chewed her lip, and wiggled. "D-Do it, mister. Oh, do it! Do it!"
"Like this?" Holding the plump halves of her bottom, supporting her weight, the man lifted until she almost slipped free of his prick. Then he let her come slowly down the length of his big, throbbing cock.
"Ummmmmmm!" Wendy wrapped her arms around his neck, and hugged tight. Her belly did flips. Her asshole opened, as if she were going to shit. Her cunt began to nip, dripping hot cuntjuice down the front of his pants. There was a knot in her chest – no! Two! Two hot tits demanding attention. She pressed them into his suit jacket, rubbing until they hurt. She'd never before held a dick in her this way; never before had she sat astride a cock with the stiffness pointed straight up her cunthole.
The man kissed her. One hand spread out on her bottom, he gripped the back of her head, forced her lips open, and rammed what seemed to be yards and yards of tongue into her mouth. Again he lifted, and let her fall. And again, groaning each time she came down onto his lap, making his prick jerk like an angry cobra at the top of her velvety vagina.
Wendy's hand dropped of its own accord to his pants, and groped there. She found his nuts and sobbed, not waiting for him to lift, pushing up with her feet and grinding her tiny pink cunthole down on the glistening pole. She didn't care any more that he was a stranger, and that someone, the highway police perhaps, might catch them fucking. She sucked his tongue and worked his fat balls, not caring about anything except the thick cream she knew was on its way up from the wrinkled nuts in the palm of her hand. She hugged him tight with one arm, and made her ass – now wet and sticky with hot goo from her cunt – go like a wild merry-go-round, like the toy belly dancer on her nightstand at home, but faster, more provocatively.
The man's lips slipped from hers, covering one of the hard buds showing through the knit dress. He blew.
"Oh my God!" His moist breath ignited her titties. Again she glanced down, amazed that such a silly thing – his big, rigid cock, which was slimy and slightly pent and full of ridges and veins – could perform such tingly wonders inside the folds of her sex. She felt the hand on her bottom search for and find the small crack, and then search lower, a finger twisting up the little brown asshole between her plump, quivering cheeks. She wondered about that: she fucked as fast as she could, and marveled that men – Daddy, Doctor Bruce, all of them – found such unabashed pleasure in shoving something up her back there. Before the home, she had considered her rectum a filthy, horrid place, a dirty trick nature had played on her otherwise perfect young body. But it was much more, she was learning. Like her pussy, it was a hot, slippery place that men desired. Not even the shit smears, the smell that clung to fingers and cocks, seemed to dissuade them. Everyone enjoyed poking something up her back there.
She stopped wondering, stopped thinking, when the tip of the stiff prick in her belly grew as fat as a doorknob. The man cupped his free hand at the top of one thigh, holding her down on his lap. "Wiggle it, honey," he gasped. "Fuck that hot red pussy around. Jesus! Ch! Baby! Ahhhhhhh!"
The cum spurted out. It filled her sheath, seeped down onto her clit and throwing her too into the grip of orgasm. "Oh, mister. It feels so good. Ohhhh…"
She fucked and fucked, making her vulva suck up the jism, milking his dick. She closed her eyes and worked, made her wet cuntlips feather the roots, the long veiny shaft, and set her inner belly in motion on the fat cockhead. There were bright lights inside her head blinking.
Suddenly she thought of Daddy. She could imagine him pacing the living room, waiting for her. She could imagine the belt that would raise new welts on her bottom and the hard prick that would force its way up her sore rectum after the beating.
But it was worth a beating – ten beatings! The man, the stranger, was making up for what Larry and the others had done to her at the point. He was shooting the shame, curing the hurt, making her red pussy sing. She felt his jism stop spurting. "No," she whispered, tightening her inner cunt muscles, keeping him hard. "M-Make it spit again. Please. I… I'll do it. Hold still. I… oh! Ummmmmmmmmmm! I'll go up and down real fast for you!"