I got home somehow but was out of my mind a good deal of the way. The last thing I remembered, before waking a day and a half later, was seeing the back of the house a half-mile in the distance and thinking that I still had to feed the animals.
I must have done it, too, I checked later and found that they'd been fed at least once after I went for a walk. That meant that I did it, in spite of the fact I was out of my mind and in so much pain. I had done what I knew had to be done.
Maybe you can call me stubborn, I don't know. I've just always done what I had to do and gone after whatever I knew I had to have. I didn't realize it then but those two qualities would almost destroy me in the next few weeks.
It wasn't going to be petty this time, like tearing another girl's hair out over a boy friend or changing dirty diapers, in a nursery to raise enough money to see Elton John. My mind was about to snap and deny me the very reason to exist. I was going to go after the one thing in life that meant life was worth living – orgasms!
It was almost noon when I was awakened by Cuddles, my poodle, affectionately licking my face. My body felt like it had been rolled over by a steam roller, pulverized with a sledgehammer and stretched on a rack. I remembered the boys coming at me on their cycles. I remembered running as they chased me. I remembered having my clothes ripped off, a piece at a time, as they got close enough to grab me. I remembered being knocked down and held while they beat and kicked me. But the only thing I remembered at that time about my rape was the climaxes I'd experienced.
Burning with shame I dragged myself out of bed and found my legs wouldn't hold me. It took almost twenty minutes of painful struggling to get to the bathroom. Cuddles and my aunt's two dogs, a German Sheperd named Strike and a collie named Loredo, followed forlornly behind.
I managed to run a tub of almost blistering-hot water and got in. Each time the water cooled I'd soap my body and drain the tub. Without getting out, I'd run another tubful and soak and soap again. By one in the afternoon I was able to lift myself from the tub, dry off, and limp back to my room.
The day was pretty outside my window. It didn't cheer me, but I knew I'd feel better if I got outside. Picking up the large towel I'd used to dry with I struggled through the house toward the back door. Once outside the secluded house I spread my towel. I hadn't bothered to put clothes on because no one could see and with doss playing there I knew I'd be safe. With my tan I didn't need to worry about using lotion. I stretched out on the soft lawn on my stomach and tried to relax. Before long I fell into a weird, trance-like sleep and must have rolled over.
My mind rehashed the rape. It lingered on the orgasms and condemned me over and over for having them. I was a nice girl! I had pride! The boys had done things to me that no nice girl, no girl with pride, could enjoy. Guilt flooded through me. I sat in judgment of myself. I was guilty! Guilty! Guilty! I had to punish myself – I had to suffer for not being a nice girl! Just like that, in my sleep, not even really in a dream, I took away my right to have orgasms.
It was like my mother punishing me as a little girl by taking away the one thing in the world I loved the most – my doll. Only now it was me, taking away the one thing I needed most. The one thing I had to have if life was going to have any meaning or joy for me. I was going to have to hunt for it desperately – having to get it back to survive.
A strange sensation came through my dreams as I lay there bathed in sweat and whimpering. My tits began to feel wet and tingly. The warmth seemed to tie in to my punishment. Like a warning that while I could be aroused, I couldn't get my cookies off. Shifting restlessly, I raised one knee and my legs fell open.
The light, wet caress on my bruised tits was accompanied by a new, stronger thrill between my legs. I felt it in the strange, never-never land at the edge of my sleep. I enjoyed it, but feared I wouldn't feel the final, grand climax.
The wet massage continued to arouse me and I came around slowly. I realized it wasn't a dream and opened my eyes. If I hadn't been so aroused by it already – so fearful that my dreamlike sentence were true – I would have been shocked beyond belief and would have put a stop to it on the spot. In my mind it wasn't the perverted sex I'd been forced to endure, the torture, nor the memory of all those cocks that had fucked me, but the fact I'd gotten my cookies off, not once but several times, that really bothered me. Running my fingers back up, away from the hole, I traced the slick split. First I followed the gulley at each side to its source. Then I spread the slime down the crest of my clit-hood and the delicate, wrinkled cuntlips.
Laying the greased palm of my hand flat between my legs I covered the dark forest of my cunt and applied pressure to increase my heat. My middle finger slid easily into my slit and explored the deep hole. I let it thrill along the silky, slick sides and tested the difference between the smooth walls and the tongue-like texture of my cunt's roof.
Curling my finger forward, I rubbed and teased the funny little nook where the cuntlips joined the inside of my barrel. Rubbing my hand flat across my match I massaged and pulled the lips at different angles until the cunt-oil flowed, dripped past my buried finger, and trickled to the cleft of my ass.
Between the bath and short nap in the hot sun a lot of the soreness left me. If it hadn't been for the raw fear that I'd lost my ability to climax I would have been well on the road to recovery. Instead, as the millions of leaves rustled on the elms and the shadows fell lazily across the lawn, I hooked my fingers in my hairy cuntlips and exposed my clit.
My greasy, well-oiled finger popped from the steaming cave and began to spin crazily over the extended clit-button. I spun it in circles, massaged the shank, dragged my fingers up and down and from side to side. It grew so hot I could have lit a cigarette on it. My passions grew and expanded. My belly tightened and knotted from the effort. My nipples swelled and jutted skyward passionately. My breath came through my slack, spit-covered lips in quick bursts and the cunt-juice wet both sides of my ass-cleft, making the giant muscles of my ass rub wetly against each other as they tightened and relaxed.
I'd used things like that before and they'd helped. Why not? I could get a lot deeper penetration with one of them than I could with a Coke bottle. A pencil had been fun when I was six or seven but there was no way something that thin could do anything for me now.
Getting off the bed I went to the dresser and pulled the wax stick from its holder. I didn't think to wet the waxy surface and instead, pushed it against the lips of my cunt.
I stood with my knees slightly bent and my legs spread, watching myself in the mirror. The image, as bruised and scraped-up as it was, still looked lewdly wicked as the brilliant white candle slid in and out of my brown-haired cunt.
The candle was going in butt first and the molded base felt like the crown of a man's cock as it caught my sensitive cunt-wall on the rim. It still wasn't quite slippery enough so I pulled it out and let my tongue slide over the acrid smelling thing. Dropping my hand again I spread my outer cuntlips with my fingers and sent it hotly home. It turned me on slowly, bringing me to a medium level of heat, but refused to do more. I tried twirling it. That didn't work. Carefully, so as not to bruise myself, I held the wick end and moved my hand in broad circles, making it jab and probe at every part of my cunt. It didn't do enough either and only made the longing for the real thing worse.
My aunt had arranged for a clerk to deliver groceries every Friday. Tomorrow was the day and I could hardly wait. The clerk that always brought them was a horny old man that I wouldn't have even considered unless I was desperate. I was desperate! It was easy to decide to seduce him. Mr. Walker was going to be fucked.
I took a long, lingering bath before I went to bed and laid out my frilliest underwear in anticipation of the following day.
The man knocked on the door at exactly ten and almost dropped the bag of groceries when he saw me.
"H-hi…" he managed.
I wouldn't really call him old. I imagine he was around forty. He was in pretty good shape for his age. He had big shoulders and a barrel chest with lots of hair on it. The only bad feature was the big beer-belly which hung over his low-flying jeans.
"Would you like a cup of coffee or something?" I asked with my heart in my mouth as he set the groceries down.
"Sure," he grinned, and plopped into a chair at the table taking his eyes off me.
I covered my mouth coyly with my hand to keep from giggling over the way his eyes bulged and the sweat was beading on his red forehead. My hands shook as I poured us each a cup. The saucers rattled as I carried them to the table and set them down.
There was no question about having him hooked so I didn't play any games. Looking him right in the eyes I grinned and purred, "How would you like to fuck me?"
I thought the poor guy was going to have a heart attack. His mouth fell open and then clamped shut. He stared at me and tried to get some words to come from his trembling lips. It must have taken a half-minute for him to get his composure and nod his head.
Taking him by the hand I led him toward the bedroom where I hoped to receive the magic which would break the evil spell.
The big man was shy until we got in the bedroom and started to strip. His clothes flew off so fast I thought he was a quick-change artist. The last piece of his clothing fell away and he stood staring at my panty-clad body, a handsome, well-developed hard-on protruding from his loins.
"Don't take your panties off yet," he ordered. "Get me a pair of scissors first."
I was a little scared. I didn't like being alone in the house with a man I didn't know – especially when he had something pointed and sharp in his hands.
"Do as I say! I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to fix your clothes so they'll really turn me on!"
I went to my desk and, pulling out a pair of shears, handed them to him. He grinned and made me lie on the bed. He spread my legs and caught the double lining of my panty-crotch. I had hoped the dark shadow of my triangle beneath the flimsy material would turn him on, and it must have, because he made no move to cut it. Instead he poked the point through the cloth at the edge of the crotch and cut it away, leaving only the thin elastic of the legbands.
When he finished, the top of my shadowy triangle was still bidden but my hairy cuntlips, and my whole crotch clear down past my asshole, was bare. Taking my bra he cut the ends out of each cup, making a hole about the size of a silver dollar for my nipples and the end of my tits to stick through. He helped me into the bra and fastened the already tight thing.
I have to admit it created a weird effect. My ample jugs pushed as much yielding fruit as possible through the opening. He took my straps and adjusted them so my nipples pointed upward.
"Do you have a pair of boots?"
I nodded.
"Put them on."
I did as I was told, and followed his last instructions with the addition of a half-slip. He took the lacy hem and wadded it up, tucking it under the band so it became a broad silky belt of wrinkled white.
"There!" he grinned with satisfaction as he made me model his creation. "Now kneel in front of me and suck on my big prick." He sat down on the bed as he gave the command.
I did as I was told instantly. It wasn't going to take any coaxing on his part to bring that beautiful slab of cock-meat to my lips. I lowered my head and gave it a kiss, right on the tiny piss-hole. Forming a tight O with my soft wet lips I pushed against the cockhead. He sighed in satisfaction as the salty meat forced its way into my mouth. The crown passed my teeth and I spent a few seconds delighting in the way he trembled as I round my teeth ever so lightly across the ridge of his cockhead.
His meat slipped deeper into my mouth and I tickled the underside with my tongue. I let half his cock slip inside and then pulled my head back, drawing the thin flesh of his shaft tight as I slid it back out.
Lowering my head again so I filled my mouth with the sweet-smelling, drooling cock, I shook my head from side to side and let his knob strike each cheek again and again. I heard him whistle hotly and knew I'd scored.
"Oh baby!" he moaned as his hands caught my head and began to guide it around to give him the best of my thrilling mouth.
He pushed my face down a little at a time until my forehead was buried in the lower part of his big belly and ray nose was filled with curly pubic hair. He raised his legs and swung them over my shoulders, locking them around my head so he held me a helpless prisoner.
The big prick was three-quarters of the way into my mouth, leaving me with just enough space to breathe through my nose. Then he began to rock back and forth slowly, without hurting or being brutal, pumping his cock in and out of my mouth.
I could feel his body thrilling with each stroke. I worked one hand up and managed to get a hold of his big balls. The delicate nuts rolled slickly inside his sac under my fingers. I tugged on the wrinkled skin and listened to him sigh as I did.
"Rub below the balls!" he gasped in ecstasy. "Right behind them!"
I did as he said and felt him tremble all over as my fingers found the heavy cable that led from his balls to his asshole.
"Oh-oooh-ooooh! Motherfucker – that's it! Suck, cunt! Suck!" he screamed as he twisted his hands in my hair, jerking my head back and forth over his cock.
The big slab expanded and his hot veins rubbed the insides of my cheeks until I swore I could feel the blood pounding through its growing length.
The beautiful big cock surged in and out, growing and swelling with each stroke. I could feel the balls shivering and his thighs turned to huge hunks of steel.
With one final jerk he drove my head all the way down. His cock was deep in my throat and began to pump stream after stream of slick jism into my throat. I felt the yeasty stuff back up and ooze past the shuddering crown of his cock. The silvery stream mixed with my spit, coating my tongue, painting my teeth and clinging in wet streamers from the roof of my mouth.
As the first powerful spasms subsided he began to move my head back and forth over his cock, filling the rest of my mouth with his hot cum. I swallowed again and again trying to get it all down. He was shooting too fast and some of it leaked past my lips and trickled from the corner of my mouth.
He released his bruiting grip on my head and lowered his thighs as his cock began to shrink. I kept sucking and blowing in an effort to get every drop before I let it fall from my mouth.
In my attempt to please him I ignored the taste of the jism and the fact I'd been forced to drink so much just a few days earlier. I was so preoccupied it didn't bother me. In fact it tasted good toward the end and I didn't let go of his cock until I'd lapped the last drop from its hole. Then I wiped the corners of my mouth with my fingers and liked them clean.
It took the man much longer to reach his peak this time because I'd drained him earlier, but I rose with him and started to feel myself lift off as he exploded in my ass – then I lost it.