She didn't know where she was going, or how she'd live once she got there. She knew only that Daddy was mean, as mean as could be, and she'd had enough of being belted around. She could imagine the guilt-ridden look on his face when he discovered the loss. No more Wendy! No more late-night-sneak-in-the-bedroom-fucking-her-cute-little-ass! It served him right!
She thought first of Larry. He belonged to a club, she knew, a gang of football roughnecks from school. But she couldn't go there. She supposed the boys at the point were members too, and she knew what to expect if she went looking for help there.
"Oh, darn them all," she sobbed at the starlit sky. She was only fourteen, after all. And now she was frightened all over again – almost as scared as she was the first day at the home.
She was blocks away from the house before she remembered the old army surplus cot in Lew Ogden's garage. She hesitated. Looking back the way she'd come, she tried to remember whether or not the station wagon had been in the drive. The garage was used mostly fur storage, she knew. It would be warm there, cozy and safe.
Chewing her lip, she hefted the small, bulky suitcase and tried not to feel the night chill on her legs. She considered the possibility of staying the night in the Ogden garage – she thought what a joke it would be on Mummy and Daddy if she spent the night right under their noses.
The sudden glare of headlights turning into the dark street startled her. Quickly she ducked behind a row of neatly trimmed hedges. A dog barked, and a light went on in an upstairs bedroom window. She held her breath, thinking for sure the two cops in the patrol car could hear her heart thumping.
It seemed to take forever for the car to cruise past, and she was beginning to wonder if running away was such a good idea. But she had to do something, she thought; she had to teach Daddy a lesson. The mere thought of the belt made her wince; her little round ass was so sore, and if she did nothing stayed there and let him do it again and again there'd be nothing but black and blue welts, ridges and bumps on her bottom by the time she was fifteen.
She waited for the taillights to turn the corner, and then stood and looked cautiously about. Now the street was deserted, almost spooky. She shivered. Clutching the bag to her breasts, she hurried back the way she'd come, deciding to chance the Ogden garage until sunup. She wouldn't sleep, just rest, she told herself. And she'd be on her way long before horny Lew Ogden left for work in the morning.
But she didn't just rest. She slept. She slept so soundly that she didn't see the sun come up, and creep like fine yellow gauze beneath the overhead garage door. In less than twelve hours she'd been fucked by six different cocks and a dildo, beaten and shamed in every imaginable way. She was exhausted, alone, confused and afraid, but most of all weary and sleepier than she'd ever been before.
Nor did she hear the wooden door being lifted, the pause, the sudden intake, of breath as Lew Ogden saw her there on the cot. Nor the door closing, and being locked from the inside. She was dreaming again, as she'd done with the elderly man in the car, the hands on her legs, the fingers. But as with the man in the car, the man who'd fucked her better than anyone else had, she slowly began to realize it wasn't a dream.
Wendy opened her eyes to find Lew Ogden grinning down at her from the edge of the cot. "Hi, baby," he said.
"Huh? I… oh. Oh, I only meant to stay a few hours," she offered, still half asleep, but knowing the look in his eye, recalling the day he'd tricked her into sipping the drink and baring her breasts for his kisses. She wanted to run, to get away from the hand rubbing her thigh. But there was no place to go.
"Couldn't stay away, huh kid?" He leaned close. His hand moved further up the inside of her thigh. "That's the way it always is, doll. The little girls just can't get enough of what old Uncle Lew has to offer."
Wendy held back her tears. Resistance was useless, she knew. They were locked away out of sight in the musty garage; there was no Penny Ogden to interfere, and Lew wanted what everyone else had been taking from her. She was almost used to it. Her body was bruised and sore, her bottom raw chop-meat. But that wouldn't stop Lew: nothing she ever said or did stopped anyone – men and women alike – from taking advantage of her weakness, her small size.
"Please don't," she tried anyway. "I… I had to run away because… because you started it all to begin with, and it hasn't stopped since, and, and oh! Oh, please, please, please don't do it to me."
Lew sat up tall and studied her. His hand came away from her thigh. A worried look replaced the scornful grin. "Sure thing, kid," he said.
Wendy blinked. It was her turn to study him: he seemed sincere enough, almost nice. Could it have been merely the liquor that had made him rape her? And now, after all the horrible things that had happened because of it, was Lew Ogden to be her only true friend? It was ironic: a fairy tale, where the wicked dragon suddenly becomes Prince Charming and rescues the maiden.
She sobered up. She wasn't a maiden, she reminded herself, suspicious again. And Prince Charming in this case – drunk or not – was the one who'd first fucked her pussy.
As if having read her thoughts, as if aware of her apprehension, Lew said, "Listen, you don't have to be scared of me. I feel guilty as hell about what happened – you know I would've said something if I could. But there was Tish to think of and all… my marriage… community property and like that. You know what I mean?"
She had no idea what he meant, nor did she care. But she nodded again, pretending to understand. She sat up, fluffed her hair, and stared wide-eyed at him. By now Daddy had discovered that she was missing, she supposed. And the belt would be waiting if he found her before the loss had a chance to sink in.
"So listen," said Lew, glancing conspiratorially around the dusty garage. "Are you really running away?"
"I… I…" Oh heck! she decided. She had to trust someone, even if it was the man whose big dick had started it all. "I don't have no place to go," she blurted, thinking how foolish it sounded, how utterly childish and ungrammatical. She searched her mind for something to add, but nothing came. Heat flooded her neck and face.
Lew patted her knee affectionately. "I owe you a favor," he said, grinning once more. "I've got this friend – a lady friend, that is. She owns a sort of house across town, and if I ask her to put you up…!" He left the provocative suggestion suspended between them.
Wendy wondered why he'd placed such emphasis on the word "house". She watched him fold his arms, cross his legs, and lean back against the splintery wall. The few hours sleep hadn't done her much good. Her body was stiff, and now, sitting up, she had to shift from buttock to buttock to keep from irritating the bruises. The thought of a warm house, a soft bed, and maybe even a bath, made her sigh with longing. Her belly growled. She was famished, she realized – that too! She was hungry and tired and vulnerable, and she needed a place to stay, at least until she could think it all out and decide what to do.
"So how about it?" Lew prompted.
"I… I don't know."
He laughed – not mocking, but a deep pleasant sound. He sat forward, put his arm around her waist, and lifted her up from the hard cot. "This lady friend," he said, "she's an understanding old gal. You just tell her your troubles. She's got a special place in her heart for runaway girls."
The house was a remodeled brownstone, all carpets and lamps and framed oil paintings inside. And Lew's friend, Miss Alberta, was indeed friendly sympathetic almost to tears. But she laughed easily, too. Her pendulous breasts bounced, her huge belly quivered, and gales of mirth rolled from her fat for no reason at all. Wendy was there only a giddy five minutes, and already she and the tall, painted lady were like mother and daughter sharing an intimate secret.
The special treatment lasted all day: food, more than she could eat… a bath, a rubdown, and a wide feather bed, with Miss Alberta tucking her in, patting her brow until she dozed, then returning to shake her gently awake for the evening meal. Lew had been right about her, thought Wendy, noting the dozen other girls – some not much older than her – at the long dining room table. Everyone laughed. Everyone talked too much and too loud, but said nothing. For one uncomfortable moment it was as if she were back at the State Home, with the noise and undercurrent of tension in the high-ceilinged mess hall.
"We're expecting men visitors," said Miss Alberta after the meal.
Wendy allowed the cumbersome woman to lead her by the hand upstairs to the bedroom where she'd slept away most of the day. The food and talk had made her tired again. She fell gratefully onto the bedding, not giving much thought to what Lew's nice old lady friend Miss Alberta said. The past two days were like a continuous dream – some of it nightmare – and now she was floating comfortably, dozing again.
But the special treatment wasn't to last, she soon learned. For as with the man in the car, as with Lew in the garage, someone was feeling her legs, her thighs, inching toward her hot, red pussy. She moaned, not wanting to waken. The word Lew had spoken, placing undue emphasis on it, kept blinking like a bright neon warning inside her head.
Despite not wanting to, she had to awaken when the finger slipped up her tight little cunthole. "Oh! Ahhh!"
"There's a good little fucker. Good 'n' juicy!" The finger plowed deeper, spreading her tender cunt lips.
Gasping, trying to see the face above her in the dark room, Wendy clutched the thick wrist attached to the hand pushing the rough finger up her vulva. A house, she thought, recalling what Miss Alberta had said about expecting men visitors. Lew – oh, fucking Lew! He'd done it to her again. Instead of helping, he'd delivered her to a whorehouse: a place where degenerates came to sate their perverted desires.
The fingers which weren't fucking her pussy dug into the crack of her ass. At Miss Alberta's insistence, she'd gone to bed nude, making it easy for the huge, bony knees forcing her legs apart. Silently she wrestled with the hand. She twisted, turning onto her side to escape the fat dickhead throbbing against the smooth flesh of her inner thigh.
"Oh my. Oh my, I like that," said the strong, faceless man. "Fight some more, honey. Sweet cunt! Wrestle! Alberta said you'd be a super surprise something special! Pretend I'm takin' it, make it better! Gimme a good one!" The hand slipped from her wet twat, joining the one at her waist. Cruelly he squeezed.
Wendy tried to gulp air into her tortured lungs. But it was as if the hands were steel gauntlets, crushing her ribs, squeezing the last ounce of breath from her trembling body. She felt herself being lifted, weightless for a moment, before the man flung her onto her belly, her legs spread wide. She felt his suffocating bulk come down on her back; felt his fat cock, his balls, and the hair that grew like cactus needles over most of his flesh. There was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him. He was bigger and stronger than her, and she was being taken – no! Sold! She supposed Miss Alberta had auctioned her off, as if she were a common little street tramp.
"There's a sweet little hot bitch," panted the man into her ear. He relinquished his hold on her waist and his hands explored her bruised buttocks. "Arrrrrrrrrrrrr," he breathed, tracing the welts. "Someone's been at you good 'n' proper. With a belt, I'd say. Yeah! Nothing like a good flogging to warm up a sweet, fucking bottom like yours."
"Oh! OH! Aaahhh…" Wendy thrashed. The fingers were at her again, opening her front and rear ports. And the cock, the fiery shaft grazing the inside of her thighs, was humping closer, closer and closer to her hot, hairy pink slit. She closed her cunt muscles and bit down on her lip, straining to thwart the invasion.
"Fucking cock-teasing whore!" Taking a fistful of hair, the man yanked her head back. "Gimme!"
"But I… I'm not one of the girls," she wailed, still holding tight, refusing to open her cunt for the knob of his ferocious prick. "I… I'm not. I'M NOT!"
"Fuck you ain't, girlie. You're, here, ain't ya? Well, ain't ya?" Again he yanked hard on her hair.
Dam them all, anyway! thought Wendy. What could she say? She was indeed there, in the dark, in the bed… naked. The fresh welts on her ass proved she'd known cruel hands before, and her cunthole – darn it! Oh, darn the thing! Her cunthole, almost as if it possessed a will of its own, was beginning to accept the tip of his big, anxious cock.
"Arrrr! Arrghh!!" The man abandoned her hair. Now his hands gripped her hips, and held her down… He fucked his loins back, and thrust into her hard. The glans of his rod parted her cunthair, and disappeared slowly into the wet warmth of her sheath.
Wendy moaned, but it wasn't a protest, a sound caused by pain. In spite of herself and her display of reluctance, the stiffness was making her tiny clit leap for joy. It was horrid of her, obscene, but she was beginning to like it. Her cunthole was taking him in, in. Her legs were coming wide apart. Wider than ever before. Wider than humanly possible, it seemed, making the hot, juicy depths of her sex more accessible.
"Ar, Christ! Baby, that's fucking good. Good 'n' fucking tight, that is! Yeah! And you're a fighter, too. Wrestle some more, baby. Make like I'm makin' you."
But you are! she wanted to cry. You are making me! Everyone made her do it – the most awful things. She'd read stories about young girls in wartime, where the soldiers came into a village after months of fighting without touching or even seeing a woman. Stories of pillage and rape. Tales of degradation, where rifle barrels were forced up the enemy twat. She recalled one in particular, a Japanese girl her own age, where an entire team of American paratroopers had fucked her and reamed out her asshole and left her for dead. She remembered the sting of tears in her eyes when she'd read about it. The poor girl! she'd thought. Now she thought, poor Wendy! Poor little Wendy. It wasn't wartime, she wasn't the enemy, and still they found perverted excuses to shove hard things up her belly.
With a sigh the man buried the last of his rod. His hands crept up her sides, to her breasts. His fingers toyed with her nipples. He let his cock soak, not moving, lying with his full weight on her back.
Wendy began to breathe faster. It wasn't so bad, she decided. Once it was in, it always seemed to get good. She could feel it, feel the long, cylindrical shape basking inside her belly. Momentarily she wondered what had become of the good girl she used to be, the old Wendy, the one who'd walked trembling into the State Home for Girls, and would never, absolutely never, give up cunt to a stranger.
Especially after the man hurt her. Particularly since she couldn't see his face, and didn't know whether he was black or white, or handsome or ugly, or short or tall or fucking whatever.
Slowly the big dick up her cunthole began to retreat. She hissed air through clenched teeth, thinking how hard it was: the hardest ever! She felt the inner folds of her pussy close as it pulled back.
"Oh… Oh Daddy, oh!"
"I'll be Goddamned," grunted the man, pushing it slowly, ever so slowly and maddeningly, back up her vulva. "If I was your Daddy, little sweetie, I'd never let you out of my fucking sight. I always wanted a daughter. To fuck! Yeah! I'd sure like to be your Daddy – putting it to you regular like."
"Daddy does," she heard herself whisper, and was immediately sorry.
"Huh? What's this?"
"I… I…"
The man cackled gleefully. "You fuck for your Daddy," he said: "Son of a bitch!"
Again he traced the welts of her ass, raising up as if he could see in the dark. She wished he could see. She suddenly wished the room could be flooded with light, so he could see her and she could see him, and look back over her shoulder and watch the long stiffness drive into her.
"Should've known," said the man, caressing the welts, the split down the center of her small, plump behind. "Pretty little girlie like you. Why, if you was mine – ah! Ummmmm!" With a thumb and two fingers he opened her sphincter, slipped his dick out of her cunt, and set the round tip at her asshole. "If you was my own little cunt, my daughter, I'd have been sticking it to ya back here even before you had hair."
Wendy closed her eyes and moaned. It felt just like her daddy back there, and it made her drunk with desire. She hated being reamed; true: it made her feel like a faggot, a boy giving his girlish bottom to a man. But a rod at her asshole brought back scenes from the home: the Coke bottles, the broomsticks, and Crazy Inez moving wildly up and down the leg of the bed. She pumped her hips off the bedding, waiting for the shaft to go in, tensing in anticipation of the pain of penetration.
But the man seemed content to let his cockhead soak in the warmth at the mouth of her rectum. He moved teasingly from side to side, going in no more than an inch, coming out… in-out, in-out, until she wanted to scream. Until she thought for sure she'd die. She longed for the initial agony of a big prick forcing open the inner folds of her asshole. She wiggled as hard as she could, drawing the stiffness in past the entrance, embedding the pulsating glans in the soft tightness back there.
"Motherfucker!" groaned the man. His fingers, the nails scratching and irritating the welts, dug brutally into her buttocks. His balls leaped at her crotch. His prick swelled, as if already on the brink of orgasm.
"I… Daddy always uses a pillow," she breathed. "Um – under my belly. Oh God! So-so he can get it all in."
"Shit! Fuck that pillow business. That's for amateurs – guys with no driving power. Me, I like it tight, so fucking tight you have to pound it in like a spike, use muscle. Force it. Like this!"
"Ow! Ow! Aaargh!" She felt the hands spreading the cheeks of her ass, the steely prick fucking forward but getting nowhere. She tried to help, but now the man's weight was full upon her, holding her down, trying to push her through the mattress, it seemed. It was no good this way: she couldn't open up. The fat, veiny cock above the sacs butting her cunthole simply wouldn't go past the jacket of muscle like a collar at the base of the cockhead.
"Ar! Stubborn little mother, ain't it!"
Wendy went rigid as the man hooked two fingers at either side of her anus, attempting to stretch the hole. "N-Not that way! No! You… oh! Oh! Oh! Oh nooooooooo!"
"Shuddup!"
Oh God! she thought. He was splitting her in half back there. No matter how willing she was, how compliant, they took pleasure in hurting her. All of them; every last one! They beat her and made her so sore it felt as if she'd been ground under a tank; they made her whimper, and then filled her with cum. And that was the worst part – the cream. Because jism made her forget. The first spurt washed away pain, brainwashed her pussy, and made her clit dance, seeking more, like right now. The mere thought of the sticky white goo – despite the burning sensation, the fire at the mouth of her little pink asshole – made the love juice drip from her cunt. It was true, she decided; her pussy did have a mind of its own. The slick, hot folds cared nothing about pain, and ignored degradation. Hidden inside her belly was a wanton: the other Wendy!
"Oh yeah, there! That's – um! Ah! That's it. That's a sweetheart. Ar! Oh, fucking yeah, baby."
Using his knees to force her legs even farther apart, the man drove into her.
Tears sprang into her eyes, and she gritted her teeth. It was going, grating in, searing the dry walls of her asshole. She wished she'd taken a shit-juiced up the entry. She wished Daddy hadn't beaten her raw. She wished… oh, dam it all! She wished he'd get the dumb fucking thing in, so the hot sperm would pour out and wet her and make it stop hurting.
"Aaarrrgh!" he groaned. "There's a good girlie asshole. Jesus! The eye of a needle. Tighter! Ummmmmmmmmm! Ar! Aaahhhh…" The man pulled back, arching his body, and shot his hips forward with such force that Wendy felt the rush of pain at the top of her head.
"Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…!" Unconsciousness, like a sea of black, turbulent water swept over her, and then she knew no more.
The bed lamp was on, and the man, a worried look on his face, was sitting beside her on the edge of the mattress when she opened her eyes. Had be cum in her? she wondered, and then wondered why she'd thought of that first. She looked down at herself. He'd turned her over, onto her back, her thighs slightly apart. She followed his inquiring gaze to the curly red wedge low on her belly, marveling that the sweet thing showed no signs of the repeated bludgeoning it had suffered in the past few days. She moved her legs, expecting to feel the stickiness of cum between the cheeks of her ass. The sticky feeling wasn't there. She blinked into the man's eyes.
"Jesus, baby. You scared fucking hell out of me. I thought maybe I killed ya or something."
Wendy almost laughed; she remembered the joke Crazy Inez told about a fly fucking its prick up an elephant's rear and, when the huge animal trumpeted, asking, "Did I hurt you, hon?" She wasn't an elephant. And her asshole wasn't huge, and it was indeed sore. But her body had been sore before – almost every day since her release from the State Home for Girls – and the man looked so pathetic, so concerned and apologetic, that she felt suddenly sorry for him.
"I… I'm okay," she whispered, thinking she should be embarrassed or something. There she lay, her charms exposed to yet another stranger, and she felt no shame, no anger about what he'd done. It was as if she were becoming used to – no! – beginning to enjoy being brutally taken, being hurt.
The man looked tentatively toward the door, as if undecided whether to stay or go. She took a quick inventory, eying his dark, rugged features, broad shoulders, muscular thighs, and long, flaccid cock. Her wet cunthole twitched. Her sphincter closed at the memory of the power it took to drive the awesome length – awesome even now: soft but still mightier than any she'd ever before seen – up her reluctant rectum. She watched him glance from the door to her bush. She watched his gaze travel slowly up, pause at her round belly, again at her tits, and finally settle on her face. "I… you didn't finish," she heard herself say, and felt the blood gush like molten lava into her cheeks. "I mean I… you… we…"
The man studied her a moment more and then grinned uncertainly. "My name's Gus," he blurted.
"I… I'm Wendy."
"Hi."
"Hi."
Gus thrusted a large, calloused hand at her. She accepted, thinking it was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever done. This time she did laugh – a high-pitched titter, as silly as the awkward situation. There they were, both naked, his hoslike prick still sporting brown gook from the depths of her asshole, shaking hands like two people being formally introduced at an afternoon tea party.
"Yeah!" Gus laughed along with her – but holding fast to the tiny hand lost to the wrist in his, his hungry gaze touring her soft pink and white body once more. The limp cock draped over his thigh began to stir, to thicken. "Look," he said. "I'm sorry about before – about being so rough on ya. But you know how it is."
Wendy knew. She didn't know exactly what it was she knew, but she was certain of it. She could feel it in the strong fingers unintentionally crushing hers… could see it in the purple-red tip of the magnificent prick growing hard between his treelike thighs. And she could sense it in her own little cunt: the suppressed fury a woman's body, particularly a young girl's unmarred loveliness, unleashed in a man like Gus. It was what sex was about – soft and hard! Big and little! Strong and weak!
Like her, she thought wondrously. Helpless, as pliable as clay in his hands: that was the way it should be.
Gus seemed able to tell what was going on inside her head, and his eyes became knowing slits. Lifting one leg onto the bed, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared into her face. He said nothing, allowing the dick growing stiff against her thigh to communicate for him: Wendy felt it, felt the warm breath on her face, and felt her thigh muscles twitching, each spasm opening her legs a bit more. There was no more "good" little Wendy. The good girl was gone, replaced by the panting child-woman reaching to close trembling fingers around the thing that had caused her such pain a mere half hour before.
His whole body jerked when she touched him. But she could tell he was holding back, reluctant to hurt her again. "I… I like it best when a man sucks me," she offered impulsively, not even sure where the words came from. Her fingers closed tight around his prick, tearing a sigh from his throat. "When he uses his tongue on me down there," she added. "I get so hot. I just don't… ow! Don't know what to do when someone does me like that down there on my pussy."
"Jesus!" Gus kissed her. His hand slid slowly down over her breasts, and paused to massage her belly. Then he went farther, cupping her crotch, rubbing her mound, and taunting her eager slit. His dick emitted the pearl drop she'd been expecting. He fucked it gently in and out of her closed fist, distributing the lubricant, getting her used to the feel of it, holding the kiss until he was fully hard and she was squirming to take him inside her red pussy.
Again he raised up on one elbow, staring down at her. "Fair exchange?"
She blinked, not knowing what he meant, but thinking it was nice of him to ask after he'd paid Miss Alberta for the use of her body. Her mouth formed a silent "Oh!", protesting when he took his hand from her crotch. She watched him move up on the bed, and use the wet finger that had been up her cunthole to trace the shape of her lips.
"Suck me off, too," he said.
She couldn't reply, couldn't trust her own voice. She didn't like being a cocksucker, and was repulsed by the memory of jism clogging her throat. But she couldn't say no. Because although she liked only straight fucking, or having her cunt lapped by a sandpapery tongue, she adored the stiffness gliding smoothly in and out of the palm of her hand.
Apparently sensing her reluctance, Gus added, "You don't have to take it all in. Just the tip – enough for me to get good 'n' worked up before I stick it in here!" His hand returned to her pussy, making her hips leap from the bed. "Just heat it up some, sugar. Not much; a nibble."
"Ow! Awright," she gasped, willing to do anything, anything he suggested, to feel the mighty thing spitting up her hot, hairy cunthole.
Gus wasted no time. Almost before the consent was out of her mouth, he shifted, placing his cock within licking distance. "We'll do it this way," he said, turning onto his side and taking her with him.
She moaned in anticipation as he lifted one of her legs and dropped it over his neck. She felt his hands take a firm grip on the two halves of her ass. His big cock jerked closer. She smelled herself on the shaft – the sweet, musky woman smell from her cunt. But it wasn't repulsive. Surprisingly enough, she found the aroma pleasing; like when she was small, and sometimes, knowing it was naughty but doing it anyway, she fingered her two virgin pockets and held the fingers to her nose.
Without waiting for Gus to direct her, unable to resist it a second longer, she curled her hands at the base of his rod. She fondled his balls – the biggest, heaviest, hairiest ones ever. Tentatively she flicked her tongue at the throbbing, purple-red tip.
"Arrghhh!" Gus buried his face between her legs, and licked.
Her toes curled, and her insides did flips. She opened her mouth to squeal, but nothing came out. It was as if the wet dart had found a way up to her heart, and was making it beat faster, faster and faster with each lovely lick, until she thought it would burst. Then she threw her head back, and Gus thrust, driving the knob of his sex deep into her face.
Wendy gagged. He'd said only the tip, and already two-thirds of the monster was inside her mouth. His smell intermingled with hers: the heady stink of man-asshole and sweat from his balls. Still, it wasn't repulsive, because the tongue at her pussy was laving, pistoning in and out of her cunt lips, exchanging spit for cuntjuice. And the meat in her face was resting, drinking her warmth.
"Ohhhhhh…" she breathed, closing her legs tight on his neck when he opened his mouth and blew moist air into her quivering cunt. His fingers, two on each hand, dug into her anus. It still hurt, and her buttocks, the tender red welts, felt like bloodthirsty leeches feasting on the raised bruises. But she didn't care about that. She was beginning to accept the pain, the torture, as a necessary evil preceding the ecstasy. It meant nothing compared to the thrill in her nipping cunthole. Noisily she sucked his fat dick the rest of the way into her face – loving it, every inch. She drank his sweaty man smell, closed her eyes, and fucked her small pelvis, her plump ass, her hot, little red pussy, as hard as she could. Then harder still, faster – the tongue coaxing her hidden pink love bud toward orgasm.
Suddenly Gus mouth was gone from her sex. She moaned, and his prick popped just as suddenly from her lips. She wanted to bellow, to scream. But before she could utter a word, he shifted, rolled her onto her back, and positioned himself between her widespread, trembling thighs. "Now let's fuck!" he ordered, the gentleness gone, the look on his face as hard and demanding as the stiffness bobbing like a wild jackhammer over her pussy. "Put it in for me, baby. Sweet cunt! Shove it all the way through them pretty red curls."
"Oh…!" The words sent a shiver up her spine. Without hesitation, she took firm hold of his cock and steered the plumb-shaped glans to the slit below her tight pussy wedge. "Ohah! Oh! Aieeee!" Her hips became the vibrating concrete below the mighty manmeat jackhammer.
"Yeah! Dh, fucking yeah!" Suspending his weight on outstretched arms, Gus looked down, and watched the tip disappear. "Motherfucker, lookit that pussy snap. Ah! There's a good little cunthole!"
Wendy glanced down too. Still holding the shaft, unable to bear the thought of letting it go, she thought how impossible it seemed that anything so fat, so long, so hard, could burrow so easily up the tightness she once had considered too tiny to oblige a douche stick. But it wasn't tiny at all, she now realized. It was just right – snug, versatile and precious. It held the key to the most giddy thrills. The inside walls were so soft and accommodating that she supposed she could take the biggest cock in the world. Two cocks even, as she'd done at the point, two dicks pissing cream in her face while one fucked where Gus now was driving. She closed her eyes tight, pushed and humped the meat up her belly, and tried to imagine what it would be like to have several mighty rods shooting off all at once in every hole in her body.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Embedding the last inches, pressing the fingers that refused to relinquish their prize into the slit too, Gus let himself down. His hands sought her firm, little-girl breasts. He circled the nipples, pressing down, making them pop. His lips pounced on one, sucking the lush pinkness greedily into the warmth of his mouth.
Wendy's head soared. Her entire being seemed to be concentrated in the red bush he was poking, in her rigid nipples. She lifted her knees at either side of his muscular loins, and let them fall sideways, opening her legs like the wings of a white butterfly. She relinquished her grip on his cock, wanting to feel his big, hairy balls at her crotch. "G-G-Guseeeeeeeeeeee," she screamed, hearing the place where the other Wendy, the one who cared about nothing except orgasm and cream, was waiting to greet her and teach her new ways to screw. Now she wanted the pain. She wanted him to fuck harder, to slam it into her guts, and tear her open from cunthole to navel. To fuck his dick up her as she'd never before been shafted.
"Do it! DO IT!" she grunted, telling him with her hips, her gyrating ass. "F-Fuck me out good. Real… oh! Oh! Real hard. Up. Um. Please. Ohhhh…"
Gus grunted. His teeth locked, cutting into the warm flesh of her nipple. His fingers danced down her rib cage, paused to gauge the roundness of her hips, and then slid under, gripping her buttocks, hefting the soft, creamy melons in the palms of his huge, calloused hands. He began to stroke. Greedily sucking her tit, lifting her bottom to meet each lunge, he set up a slow, steady fuck tempo – like a male belly dancer, cock dipping smoothly with each bump and pulling back with each forceful grind.
Tentatively Wendy raised one trembling leg, draping it over his waist. Her arms locked around his bull neck. She moaned into the crook of his shoulder. Her cunthole was smoking, it seemed. Afire!
"Put – um! Ah, baby, you're good. Fucking great! Fucking, fucking… put – um! Put your other leg up."
She complied, locking her ankles high on his broad muscular back. "Ow! Ow! Ah, do it! DO IT!"
Now she could feel the faint whoosh of air, the draft caused by his mighty jabs at her gaping asshole. She held tight, molding her burning flesh to his, barely touching the bed. Fucking was wonderful, she decided. Despite everything, the initial pain and the shame, a big dick up her hot little belly was the medicine she needed to blot out all the bad things – Lew. Doctor Bruce, the matrons and girls at the home, and Mummy and Daddy. A hard, veiny prick was a narcotic; it made her high. It made her inside a turn over. It did the most marvelous things to her tight little red pussy.
It suddenly struck her: all the horrid things that had happened – the rapes, the abuse, the cheek-burning degradation – had prepared her for this, for good fucking. Before she was sent to the home, and taught how to use her young charms, she was a girl who had to sneak peeks at Daddy's sex manual; a dummy who'd explored the pink folds of her sex, and toyed with her pretty pink nipples – all the time wondering what it would be like to take a man's rod up her hole, and afraid to find out. And now?
She was a woman! she thought. She was only fourteen, a mere child in the eyes of the law, but there wasn't a niche on her body that hadn't felt the bludgeoning drive of a hard cock. There wasn't a muscle, a curve, that didn't know what to do when a man positioned himself between her open thighs and shoved a prick up her pussy.
As Gus was now doing, driving, socking it to her. Fucking out her hot, hairy hole. Ramming his meat – almost as long and fat around as the leg of the bed Crazy Inez had screwed nightly – in to the hilt, pulling back and making it slosh with each powerful lunge.
"Do it!" she whimpered, inching her legs even higher, her feet beating a soft pit-pat below the muscles bulging at his manly shoulders. She felt his coarse cock hair flush with her gash, scraping and irritating her clit. She felt the hands on her ass digging in, the teeth tearing her nipples. But most of all she felt the glans of his pistoning tool. She felt it at the mysterious depths of her pulsating vagina – the bulblike thing making her insides all soft and mushy, making her love juices flow. It was a beautiful cock, a cock that could make a girl crazy, an awesome hunk of manmeat that was working, working, working to shoot cream up her hole.
"Yeah. Oh yeah, mother-fucking sweet baby." Gus mouth slid wetly up her neck, and over her chin. He kissed all over her face – kissed her green eyes closed. His lips covered hers.
Moaning, gasping, panting, making small pleasure noises she didn't recognize as her own, Wendy opened her mouth to accept his inquisitive tongue. Her fingernails dug into the flesh on his back, cutting trenches in it. She couldn't help it; she wanted to hurt him as he and the others had hurt her. She felt warm blood oozing out of the gouges, felt the dick up her hole swell and jerk – almost as if Gus enjoyed being hurt too.
Too? She fucked her ass furiously off the bedding, sucked his tongue, and wondered why she'd included herself in the thought. She didn't like to be hurt; it made her cry. It made her tender young body so sore that every step she took brought with it a wince. And yet… pain made her red pussy curls stand on end, and her two hairy holes breathe. And it was all so darn confusing, so new to her. Pain too was a mystery. There was a two-headed stranger, her and the other Wendy, the insatiable one who lived in the wet folds of her slit.
Gus shifted gears, his loins going from low to second, winding toward full speed. He began to mumble incoherently into her mouth, his tongue keeping pace with the long stiffness stabbing her sopping wet cunt. His finger found her closed anus, and twisted in, in. Noisily his nuts slapped against her gyrating bottom.
She was flying again, somewhere above the bed in a skyful of bright flashes. The juice from her cunt spewed out onto the sheets, forming a sticky puddle, wetting her ass each time it touched down for the split second it took for her hips to fuck upward again. She was nearing orgasm. Inside her belly the other Wendy was caressing the bulbous dickhead, making the shaft jerk insanely against her hard clit. The thrill was building, slowly, wondrously. A white-hot electric charge was coursing through her. She worked her hips frantically round and round, from side to side, up and down, up and down – slamming herself up onto the throbbing stiffness. She wanted him to cum too; she wanted to feel the jism spit and ooze down the slippery walls of her sex; she wanted them to come off together, to reach the heights simultaneously, with cum and cunt juice intermingling like the ingredients for a sweet, syrupy drink. She wanted – oh, darn it all! She wanted him to hurt her! To be brutal! To make her whimper and thrash; to take her again and again and again, leave her used and exhausted.
"Baby, baby, baby!" Gus abandoned her lips to sink his teeth into her neck, and begin sucking up a hickey. "Fuck, you fine little whore," he demanded, stoking faster, harder, deeper. "Keep – ah! Ah sweetheart, screw. Yeah! Keep that good pussy working. Like that. Yeah! Make it snap. Oh Christ, yeah! Great stuff. God 'n' hot 'n' tight. Oh Mother! Mother! Ar! Arrghhh! There… there… there's a good fucking hole…"
Wendy humped so furiously she thought for sure the bedsprings were going to snap and shoot them through the ceiling. The jism was like molten lead pouring off up her pulsating cunthole. She'd never felt cum so thick, so good. It weighted her down; it acted as alum on her slit, closing it tight, shrinking it, making the inner and outer lips bite like the jaws of a red-furred tigress.
"Milk it, baby," groaned Gus. "Get it all. Suck me off with your cunt!"
"Yes. Oh yes, Gus!" How she loved it. How her clit and ass danced, begging for more. It was as if she'd never been fucked, and now, the stiffness pumping goo up her vulva, her purpose in life was being revealed for the very first time. She wasn't a whore – wasn't! She didn't belong there; she wasn't one of the girls in Miss Alberta's stable of play-for-pay mares. But she did indeed belong beneath a big, dipping cock. It was what she'd been born for: what the genes and chromosomes had intended when conspiring to create the hot, velvety pocket between her quivering thighs.
It lasted forever and ever, the cream spitting, pissing from the tip of his dick and gushing down into her. It gathered thick at his cockhair, in the curls of her pussy – wetting his nuts, her ass, the mattress and bedding. It fired orgasm after delicious orgasm through her eager young loins.
And still it wasn't enough for Wendy. There would never be enough jism, she realized. If she lived to be 2000 years old, and held every prick in the world up her sweet, nipping cunthole, there still simply wasn't enough cum to satisfy the burning need in her belly.
Gus fell heavily upon her. His dick began to shrink, softening until it was a mere flexible sausage once more. "That was good fucking," he breathed into her ear. "You're some kid, you know? You could make a million bucks peddling that hot little pussy."
"Do you… I mean, was it – am I really that good?" whispered Wendy.
"Better than that!"
"Then don't stop. Please, I… I'm still hot." She set her plump ass to gyrating the way men liked it, slow and easy. Like when she walked down the street in tight shorts, and everyone – young men and old, the women, even small, naughty boys – stared speculatively at her mincing behind.
Gus groaned. Rolling onto his side, taking her with him, he made her throw one leg over his muscular thigh. "You'll fuck me deaf, dumb, 'n' blind, baby. Your cunt's like a clam. Christ! All this time we've been fucking around, and screwing, and still…!"
With heavy-lidded eyes, sleepy eyes flashing green jade desire, she looked into his dark, sweaty face. She knew what he meant. The girls at the home had said she had the tightest cunthole, the best one they'd ever seen. It never loosened. It got wet and sloppy, but the more good fucking it got, no matter what was shoved up there, the tighter it got, too.
For a moment she wondered about that, mentally comparing her slit with Mummy's loose, meaty gash. Then she wondered why the welts on her ass didn't hurt anymore – why the tiny brown anus between her fleshy cheeks no longer cried out against the earlier degradation. For two days she'd been fucked and made to suck cocks every which way. And now she lay in the arms of a stranger, his cream beginning to crust along her smooth inner thighs, and there was no pain, no shame. There was only the heat in her pussy, the swollen pink cunt lips, and the hair standing on end. And the need in her belly. And the cock – Gus' stiffening tool, the glans once again throbbing like a big toothache inside her.
Impulsively she reached for the wide cheeks of his ass, and found the hot, hairy crack.
"What the – hey!"
She giggled. She supposed that she should be embarrassed or something, but it was fun to make someone as big and strong as Gus, someone twice her weight and size, gulp and buck. "I read in a book, Daddy's sex manual," she explained, "that a man's thing gets harder than anything when someone does this." She forced her small middle finger high in his hot asshole.
"Arrrghhhh!" Gus pumped his hips forward, pushing her halfway across the bed. The dick in her twat sprang up tall.
"Ummm!" Wendy wiggled her finger, searching for the thing the book called a "prostate gland". She wondered if that was the counterpart of her own little clit, the magic trigger that set men off. She buried her face in the crook at his neck, kissing him there, on the shoulder and chest, shiver after warm shiver climbing the steps of her spine and bringing goose bumps out on her flesh.
The question about the prostate was answered when Gus yipped, and another gob of cum shot off up her tense belly.
"Ow. Oh, wow!"
"Mother!" gasped Gus, gripping her bottom, slamming himself roughly into her crotch.
Again she wiggled the finger embedded in his rear. It was the very first time she'd been the boss, in total control of the sex act. Her whole body sang with sensation. Her cunt drank the new load, and began to milk him for more. Now she could understand the compulsion behind the belt Daddy wielded; the thing that made Mummy beat her, and what made Larry and the boys at the point bruise her body even after she gave in.
It was the giddy sensation that came with command, she realized, amazed. Fucking was like everything else: someone had to be boss, and someone the slave.
She stopped thinking, wiggled the finger, and fucked herself onto Gus' stiff, spitting cock.