Chris O'Brien took one look at her checkbook balance and swore. Damn! There was no way she could pay the rent and afford bus fare too, not to mention coincidentals like laundry and an occasional glass of wine. Then the worst realization imaginable struck the sandy haired girl between the eyes like 40,000 watts of voltage: there was no more money coming in until she found a job. Thank God they were getting food stamps!
Oh God! What to do? She collapsed on the single bed that squeeked under her slender weight and, covering her face with her hands, she wept, her five-foot four-inch body rocking back and forth on the Indian print bedspread. Why had she insisted on coming to San Francisco without a job? Her uncle Frank had warned her, her aunt Violet, her father, and her very own younger sister. But no, Chris O'Brien was going to prove her independence regardless of the ominous odds. So what if California already suffered from 13% unemployment, not to mention the spate of 18-22 year old jobless, of which she was but a statistic. Chris would prove them all overly cautious and narrow-minded. She would come in cold, get a well-paying, creative job with travel benefits. After all, she had a college diploma in one hand and a portfolio brimming with talent in the other. What more could she have going for her? Her professors at the University had encouraged her, telling her she should try cracking into the fashion design market out here on the West Coast. Sure, they'd said, it you want to start a career, go to New York; but the West Coast has lots more amenities. Now, after two months of scouring the streets, all she could show for her efforts was a bad blister on her left heel and an arm-long list of useless telephone numbers and contacts. And no money.
A roar as loud as her own crying rocketed through the Geary Street apartment, the din's vibrating rattle making the stereo groan, then skip a cut. Chris pounded an angry fist into her knee. And this hole! It was filthy and noisy, snorted Chris. You couldn't listen to a record album without a bus interrupting everytime its brakes ground to a halt to repeat its never ending route up and down Geary Street all night. But you could hardly complain to a landlord about cockroaches and broken windows when you still owed last month's rent and had no prospects for paying the current month's either. You bit your lip and endured: that was city living.
What could she do? Chris bit into her trembling lower lips and stared blurrily at the yellow cracked wall. She might as well call her parents collect and humiliate herself by asking them to send her a one-way ticket back to Detroit and forget there was any part of America west of the Mississippi River. No. That would be giving in, sniffed Chris, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She'd rather work at the telephone company, God forbid, than do that – if they were hiring.
The twenty-two year old slim-hipped girl braced her foot on the bed board and, out of habit, twisted to reach her cigarettes on the night stand. With a wince and a snap of her fingers she remembered she'd smoked the last one last night – or had her roommate bummed it? She couldn't remember which. Just yesterday she'd spent her last cash on a pair of stockings she didn't like, to wear to a job interview for a job she didn't want. Damn! she hissed, clenching her fists. We've got to do something. Anything!
And her roommate Sandy was no help either. God, she couldn't keep a dollar in her pocket for five minutes without it sending up flames. That, thought Christ pacing in front of the window, is the whole trouble with Sandy. Drugs. Money spent uselessly on drugs, and all it got you was a headache and another day in debt. In school it had been no problem even though they'd roomed together since neophyte freshman. One collect phone call to the folks telling them you needed another easel or art book, and the check was in the mail pronto. Now, being twenty-two and independent, neither of the girls could expect anything in the mail except for a good wish and a stamped, self-addressed envelope to back home. A case of responsibility, pure and simple.
Chris put her finger to her lip and concentrated on the old man across the street, stooping over to pick up cigarette butts from the gutter. Where had last summer's savings gone? She tapped her foot, mentally counting off the dollars. Rent-$70, clothes-about $10, rock concerts… ummm, that's where a good share of it had gone. And dope. One pound of top grade marijuana that she and Sandy had bought the first week in San Francisco. "Good stuff… safe connection… you can sell it, keep a couple lids for yourselves and make a killing on the rest." Right, thought Chris with a sarcastic nod of the head. Safe investment, huh! The dealer, some guy Sandy had picked up in the park and brought home for an afternoon of frolic and post-hippie lovemaking, sold them the goods and ripped them off on the same night. Some scam!
He'd come late at night to break up the kilo and weigh out the pound in front of the two girls. Next thing Chris remembered she was lying on the floor from an overdose of PCP sprinkled in the marijuana – a drug she'd smoked occasionally while in school – with Sandy making passionate love to the dealer on the sofa. Chris, on hands and knees, had crawled to her bedroom, just one doorway beyond, and listened to the grunts and groans and slurping and slapping of flesh on naked flesh only to wake up the next morning to find her roommate passed out on the couch and Chris' purse laying open and empty… and the pound of dope picked up and carried off by the same hands that had brought it in only four hours earlier. It was a killing all right, mused Chris with the caustic wisdom of a victim of the city. A real lesson.
She'd blamed Sandy for it, calling her irresponsible and a poor judge of character, that she should have been able to pick up on the guy's vibes and known better than to buy dope from a stranger. But then, honestly speaking, if Sandy had to pass on her judgment of people, she wouldn't have passed kindergarten, for Sandy was a girl who knew what she wanted on the skimpiest of superficial levels and sacrificed anything to get it – money, honor. It didn't matter. If it felt good, Sandy indulged. It was her life's principle. "Some people live by the ten commandments," Chris remembered her best friend saying, "and I have my fun." No one could argue the point; in a crazy sort of way it made sense.
Even Chris couldn't argue with Sandy on that issue. The long haired girl lit the half-burned cigarette she found among the marijuana roaches in the seashell ashtray and lit it, feeling the hot match warm her fingers as she thought on. No, Sandy had never been discriminate about her college dates. If they liked loud music, beer, and dope, they were Sandy's kind of people. Poor, rich, white, black, yellow, red – Sandy had had them all. And loved it.
That must have been thought Chris pulling on the second-time-around cigarette, why Mom and Dad were opposed to her coming along with me out here to California in the first place. Though she was loathe to concede the issue, her parents were right. Sandy was getting out of hand with bringing home guys from the laundromat, the bus stop, and the pool hall – anywhere she could find a willing mate who wanted to spend an afternoon in bed. And worst of all, they would crash all night with Sandy in her bedroom and play the stereo on full blast so that Chris couldn't get to sleep until the east turned yellow.
But damn it, you couldn't help but love Sandy no matter how many times she broke a promise or borrowed money. She was a true friend, a real sister, and Chris would do anything to help her roommate. After all, Sandy had stuck by Chris through all her traumas and hard times, always offering everything she had to give.
Like the time Chris' parents had decided to make a surprise Sunday afternoon visit to their oldest daughter in college, and Sandy had given up her afternoon to chat and play hostess to Mr. and Mrs. O'Brien while Chris lay in frozen silence behind her bedroom door with her boyfriend after a night of de-flowering love making. Chris had been far too embarrassed and shame-faced guilty to face her parents, especially with Dick haggling her for a second time around. Hadn't Chris a debt to pay there? Return one good turn for another? Sandy had shrugged it off, saying she enjoyed company. True, the dark haired girl did like people.
That, succinctly, was another one of Sandy's problems. But nobody could blame her. Everybody said she was lucky not to be scared for life. And to think her step-father was responsible.
Chris felt a wave of nauseating guilt. She drew heavily on the last drag of the tortured cigarette and snuffed out the filter in the carbon-stained seashell. For some unaccountable reason Chris sensed that she shouldn't even be thinking about Sandy's problems… that lurid, terrifying story had been related in confidence, and Chris wasn't even sure she had the facts straight. The antidepressant drugs – stelazine and meloril – the doctors administered to Sandy that night in the hospital after she'd attempted to commit suicide by threatening to jump out of a ten story campus building because of a breaking up with her boy friend, had triggered her memory and blurred her speech.
Chris had spent the night in the psych ward of the University hospital holding Sandy's cold, clammy hand and listening to the mumbled horror of a childhood nightmare. Had Sandy the courage to relate her story without the mellowing effect of drugs to ease the emotional and physical torture that scorched her body each time she talked about it, Chris was certain the objective truth might run like this:
The day that Sandy was to remember forever had dawned very hot, and she had decided to go for a walk down by the creek to get a bit of sunshine and daydream as twelve-year-olds do. A physically mature girl for her years, the black haired girl had walked with her back curved and her full young breasts jutting out and bouncingly firmly. She'd been happy; her mother, after a year of husbandless loneliness, had married a man at last, and Sandy was happy to have a father.
Sandy strolled along, occasionally raising her hand to shield her eyes against the glare of the sun. Born and raised in the Michigan countryside, she loved the out-of-doors and especially the creek, where as a child she used to build log dams and fish for trout in the cool fresh water. She sauntered down to the creek that ran through their property, down to its shady banks where she drifted under the willow trees, feeling the coolness like caressing fingers all over her body, and finally reached a sheltered place she knew. It was a spot where the creek widened out into a crystal pool that was hidden from all eyes by the bushes and a natural embankment. Here, Sandy kicked off her shoes and waded ankle-deep in the water, playfully kicking up a spray, with her dress showing a flash of nakedly white thigh. Here, in the tiny glen, Sandy felt that she was safe to do as she wanted.
It felt good being out of the house, because things hadn't been going as smoothly as the twelve year old thought they should. There had been much arguing between her mother and step-father, much of it having to do with Sandy and her newly discovered social life. Already at the approaching teenage year, she had dated once or twice and her step-father thought she was being too loose for a girl her age. He had made accusations which sent her mother into tears, and Sandy had the feeling he'd been following her, something her mother refused to believe of her new husband.
The young brunette hadn't counted on the prying eyes of her step-father, who made his quiet way up and down the creek embankment, and now stood looking down at Sandy tossing her thick mane of black hair. He crouched down behind a tree on the top of the knoll and watched Sandy sprawl in the grass and turn her face up to the warming sun. Her face was delicate, with a slender nose that ended in a provocative tilt. There was also a tilt to her wide pale green eyes. Her face was delicate and feminine, right down to her wide, fleshy mouth.
But it was her voluptuous young body that excited her step-father and made him chew on his lips. He watched his step-daughter from behind the tree and saw Sandy lean all her weight back on her arms, letting her head even further back so that her face and throat were presented to the warming sun. She raised one leg and bent the knee. The man held his breath as he watched her firmly white thighs. He saw her sprawled with the hem of her dress in her lap and her legs spread as she let the knee wantonly fall over to one side, revealing the tight white band of her panties that so snuggly held and hid her pussy. He stared as though mesmerized at the flimsly white panties covering the treasure he wanted to so badly to see, then blinked and wiped sweat from the palms of his hands by rubbing them on his pants.
Christ, his wife had one hell of a good looking daughter, alright. A lot of style for a young girl, the way she strutted her stuff, flashing her ripe breasts in front of the young guys. And already she'd come home at two o'clock in the morning on two different occasions. Hell if she wasn't out getting it!
Sandy sank back, her eyes closed, smiling slightly at the kiss of the sun on her face and neck. It felt good! The rays caressed her flesh and made her tingle in a drowsy kind of way. A slight breeze blew and sent ripples of pleasure over her face and neck. Sandy listened for a moment while lazily thinking how nice it would feel if she were to…
Her step father was like an Indian, freezing immediately when he saw the girl sit up and open her eyes and look around. Slowly, he sank back into the shade of the tree and held his breath. With one eye, he watched Sandy glance around and cock her head as if listening for something. Had he made a noise or did she hear someone coming? He was sure she'd run off and was waiting for her boy friend to show up.
No! He held his breath and felt his rapidly awakening cock give a hard jerk in his pants as he saw her unbuttoning the front of her dress and pull it free of her creamy shoulders and gather it around her incredibly slender waist. His mouth went dry as he saw her sitting with her breasts looking so full blown that they were literally stuffed into the bra and were straining to burst free. He watched as Sandy reached behind her with both arms. Her breasts jutted forward and up as she worked with the clasp in the hollow of her back. Her fingers snapped the clasp and her ripely fleshed mounds sprang quivering free.
The step-father, George, almost yelled and his cock jerked again so powerfully in the tight confinement of his jockey shorts that he bent over in pain.
Jesus, Christ! His step-daughter had beautiful tits!
His mouth was as dry as sand as he looked at her two nakedly free breasts with their tightly tensed nipples so dark and round. He watched her breasts quiver and shake in a wantonly provocative way; they were ripe and round with half-moons of shadow under them as she again leaned back all her weight on her arms and let her head loll back with her eyes closed. Her breasts were jutting up, right at him and the older man felt he could leap up, run down, surprise her, and grab those tits in his hands… and massage them… and put his hungry mouth over those tautly teasing nipples and bite and suck on them. He bent over again, forced to adjust his swelling cock in his pants.
"Jesus, I'm in for a show!" He whispered the words in his dry, caked throat as he waited for her boy friend to show up.
His hand swatted at the sweat forming on his upper lip just as Sandy sat up again, and looked around with a dreamy expression. He sank back further, keeping one eye on her and one hand on his painfully tight groin.
Sandy was feeling good, very good… and a little bold and wicked. Supposing someone should come along? She smiled, knowing that no one would. Only her mother was at home, and she was doing the wash. And her step-father… well, he was probably in town getting drunk. After all, it was Saturday afternoon. Just as well, her step-father had been accusing her of all sorts of ridiculous things of late, and she'd just as soon he spent his time on a bar stool, rather than trying to play father which he failed so miserably at.
Satisfied, she felt safe, felt that this was her day, her hour, that she could be safely alone and do exactly as she pleased, that she could be free and enjoy the sun. Free! The word hummed through her head like a song, a wantonly sensuous song. She cupped her budding breasts with either hand, touching them softly and intimately, her fingertips brushing across her already distended nipples as she marveled at the way her body had changed so dramatically in the last six months. Already the boys at school were calling her a cock teaser because of the way she strutted proudly. A thrill of lustful desire swept through her body, mixing, smoking and brooding, in her groin. Her entire young body seemed to, for a minute, throb with the hotly liquid desire of being a ripe woman.
Sandy almost lost her balance as she felt desire ripple through her body in increasing undulations as her fingertips brushed back and forth across her nipples. It felt so good!
God damn! She's acting like some twenty-two year old whore!
Lust twisted his face as he watched the unsuspecting girl gently teasing and exciting herself. He was right about her. She was putting out for somebody! Somebody definitely was getting her nooky! He clenched his fist and crouched low behind the tree, preparing to charge. He couldn't stand watching any longer and, damn, her mother never did that for him!
He was just about to go barreling down the hill as if her were pulling off an off-tackle plunge when he froze, catching his breath in an audible way he was afraid she heard. She was sitting up again and using her hands to push the dress down over her creamy-white hips. He held his breath as he watched her rocking from one cheek of her buttocks to the other, wiggling and writhing lazily as she brazenly slipped the bunched up dress down over her thigh and all the way down to her knees. She sat for a moment in her little white bikinis, feeling so drowsy in the sun.
George licked his dry lips and watched her with her naked breasts caught between her arms, pressing her cleavage tightly deep. Her breasts ballooned under her arms, making her nipples more tautly tempting than ever before. His eyes greedily took in her firmly flat stomach with its navel plainly visible as her abdomen tautly rippled when she again leaned back on her arms and tossed her wild black mane of hair.
Sandy basked in the gently, sensuous warmth of the sun. She closed her eyes and felt it warming her all over. On an impulse, she again sat up and hooked her dainty thumbs in her flimsy panties and pulled them off, feeling a rush of cooling air on her heat-moistened cuntal slit and in the deeply tight crevice of her buttocks.
George felt his body quivering like a big cat ready to leap. There she was before him, totally naked, her sensually voluptuous body so young and firm with a rubbery kind of resilience. He watched her breasts twin white orbs quiver elastically as she moved, lying down and stretching out in the hot sun. He saw her young naked loins moving enticingly as she stretched her legs.
His eyes were drawn to her groin where her firmly shaped thighs met her nakedly tempting torso and he saw her softly parted pubic hair that fuzzed out virginally. His eyes fastened on that slit and he caught a glimpse of warmly pink cuntal flesh as she lazily spread her legs. Her pulpy pussy lips were already glistening and swelling even as he watched. His cock throbbed and lunged once like a wild animal seeking freedom, and he gritted his teeth hard in an effort at self control.
Sandy lolled back, closed her eyes, basking in the gently warming rays of the sun and gradually becoming sensually aware of her own naked body. She felt her genitals growing moist with a throbbing itch, and her hands whispered over her ripely swelling breasts once more, her fingers teasingly skimming back and forth. Then she let her hands trail down, down over her contoured stomach and over her navel to the sparse triangle of pubic hair that was beginning to sprout there. She felt wantonly hot and she raised one knee slightly as her fingertips skimmed down the length of her wetly swelling slit. She felt the moist warm heat of her own cunt, and a tiny moan of delight escaped her lips. The sun, her hands, they felt so good!
Her fingers began tenderly probing and exploring her teased clitoris into an erect life of its own. She felt a rippling erotic pleasure tingle through her naked pussy under her gentle ministrations. She felt so devilishly wicked as she allowed her hips to jut obscenely upward while her finger slid up and down the heated lubricated slit in an ever increasing rhythm.
A crash from up on the embankment made the young brunette sit bolt upright, a strangled cry frozen in her throat. She didn't have any time to move before her step-father crashed on top of her with savagely guttural snarl. Sandy was knocked completely over, her naked loins flashing, her young breasts bouncing. They rolled over and over under the impact of his charge and ended up right next to the pond, with George on top of her.
Sandy was seeing stars, and her lungs felt like they were on fire as she gasped for breath and tried hard not to pass out. She opened her mouth to cry out but George clamped his hand roughly over her mouth. "Shuddup, you little bitch," he snarled. His wild eyed face was only inches from her. She could smell beer on his breath. He had been drinking again! His lips were twisted in a facsimile of a grin. "You make one sound, one little peep, and I'll beat the living shit outta you."
The words were hissed, spat out in her face and her whole body tensed as she tried to shirk away from him. He gradually removed his hand from her mouth, keeping one finger held up as a warning. Slowly, he removed his weight, getting up and allowing her to catch her breath with her breasts ripely heaving up and down to in front of his eyes. She watched him with wide-open eyes as he began taking off his shirt. She couldn't believe her step-father was doing this to her! My God, he had to be insane! Or did he really hate her that much?
He pulled off his pants and kicked them to the side. She gave a gasp of horror as she saw the hugely obscene bulge in his jockey shorts. His cock was so big he had trouble getting it out of the underwear until finally it sprang free with a life of its own. Her hand flew to her mouth as he stood nakedly menacing over her. His cock! It was so huge! She had no idea men's cocks could get so big. He held it lightly with one hand, sadistic grin on his brutal face. She stared up at the lust-swollen, blood-red mushroom head. She saw his thick white shaft with the bulging veins and, as she watched, her heart pounding, he pulled back the tautly tight sheath of foreskin and the flanged head ballooned out, red and shining. "No!" she cried, her voice trembling.
"Come on, you're putting out for those young boys," he growled. "And now you're gonna put out for me!"
"N-no! Never, n-never b-b-before!" she stammered.
"Don't give me that shit! You been staying out almost all night with those studs. Don't tell me you ain't fucked before." He crouched over her, his voice grating, his long massively pulsating cock held firmly in one hand. "I'm going to fuck you to within an inch of your life."
"No! Help! Mother!" Sandy rose up, crying out as loud as she could. She never even saw the punch. She felt it as the world seemed to explode right in front of her eyes; her head snapped around and she fell backward heavily, feeling the pain sponge deeply into her face.
George kneeled over her naked young torso, sitting on her stomach and slapped her face back and forth with an open hand. Sandy tried to ward off his stinging blows but found she was too weak and stunned to have much effect. His strength was incredible and brutally effective as he seized her wrists and bent her arms back above her head just as his hotly wet mouth clamped over hers and she felt his hot tongue wetly probing into her mouth.
She tried to yell, but his fiery hot tongue slid in her mouth and lewdly lashed at her own tongue. The terrified young girl fought for her breath as his tongue pumped lewdly and wantonly in and out of her mouth. Despite her terror and pain, a certain lasciviousness rippled through her body pleasurefully.
George was grunting like a madman as he pulled his cruel wet mouth away from her bruised lips and hissed. "You make one sound, and I swear I'll punch you silly!"
Again she tensed. She believed him; she believed he might even kill her. He was wild, his eyes were bloodshot, his breath reeked of stale beer, and his hands were hurting her wrists as he squeezed them tightly to show he meant business.
George shifted his weight and looked hungrily down at her large fleshy breasts in all their firmly erect splendor. With her hands forced up above her head and pinned there by his grip, her breasts were arched with her nipples right below his face. With a savagely cruel chuckle, he lowered his hot wet mouth and clamped his tongue and lips over one pinkly erect little nipple.
"Nnnnoooooo!" Sandy moaned, her head rolling back and forth as she felt him first suck, then bite the nipple so hard she winced. Despite the pain, she felt an unexpected ripple of pleasure mix deep down in her loins… a masochistic thrill at being so helpless while his hungry mouth ravaged her nipple, sucking and nibbling it into a tautly hot shape of its own.
"Oooooh, God, please stop!" she whispered, her voice hoarse, afraid to yell. She shivered with fear as his voracious mouth moved over to clamp on her other breasts, and she felt that second nipple being sucked until it ached with a combination of wanton desire and physical pain. She knew there were red teeth marks in the hotly tender flesh of her breasts.
"N-N-noooo!" she wailed as her hateful step-father shifted his weight on top of her, his thickly muscled chest crushing her ravaged breasts and pushing the breath out of her tortured lungs as he grunted, "Spread 'em, baby! Spread your legs!"
"No! Please! I'll give you anything… I-I won't tell Mom." Tears welled up in the naked young brunette's eyes from the pain and fear as she felt his heatedly pulsating cock pressing against her stomach. It felt hard and hot and thick and huge! He was going to tear her apart with that big obscene thing!
"Anything?" he asked between gritted teeth.
"Anything!" Tears snaked down her flushed twelve year old face, and for a wild second she thought she might be getting out of it.
"How about a little nookey?" His laughter was wild and harsh.
Sandy screamed again and received another sharp blow that almost knocked her out. Dimly, her strength ebbing, she realized he was forcing her legs wide. She felt his powerful loins between her legs, and then her eyes opened very wide, and she screamed in pain as she felt the thick head massively pushing on her virginally tight pussy lips.
"Aaaaggghhhh!"
His teeth tightly gritted, his lips twisting open wide, he thrust with all the brute strength he possessed. He was driven wild with the taste and smell of her. He felt the thickly blunt end of his cock spreading her wetly cringing cunt as he bore down hard. She whimpered and the sound caused him to thrust forward with brutal delight.
The flanged head of his cock plopped just inside her tight, hotly quivering little cunt with a wet tearing sound. Sandy felt herself impaled on his heatedly pulsing cock. His massive cock head was buried just inside of her cunt with her cuntal lips drawn tight as rubberbands around the thick shaft. Sandy was positive he was going to shove his massive maledom clear up into her belly and on past, on up into her throat itself. She trembled with abject fear, sending her cunt into an oddly pleasing quiver around the throbbing head. She smelled his sexual heat, and felt his huge cock like a throbbing piece of hot meat lodged in her virginal pussy – the treasure she had saved for the right boy.
Slowly, with a cold-blooded brutality, George began pumping his hips, moving his rigidly thick cock like a huge piston plunging in and out of her tender flesh.
Sandy couldn't move, and she gasped for breath and tried to keep from screaming as she felt the lust-thickened shaft spreading her cuntal walls until it seemed they surely were being ripped from her clitoris to anus. She lay rigid, her cruelly violated young body trembling in spasms of fear and guilt. Guilt! She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, tried not to think about the wanton excitement she had begun feeling with each brutal, pain-filled thrust; she couldn't help herself, and the more she tried not to think of it, the bigger and harder his cock became… and finally she was forced to admit to herself that she was enjoying it!
She loved it – all twelve childish years of her!
A sudden stab of guilt shuddered through her body as she felt her wetly pulsating cuntal lips inched in with each wonderfully heated thrust of her mother's husband's heated shaft. On each withdrawal stroke she felt them clinging to his hardened shaft and the obscenely exciting mental picture of what was happening made searing spasms of pleasure streak through her loins and caused her puckered little anus to tremble with delight. She was enjoying making love to her own stepfather!
She knew she shouldn't be liking it, knew she was being brutally raped, that she was being marked forevermore, she knew it and felt full of fear and pain. Her pain made her sob real tears and babble incoherently for George to stop. Her head thrashed from side to side, and she bit her lips against the increasing pleasure she was feeling with each deeper stroke of his hotly rampaging cock. She fought against the itching urge in her hips to pump them lewdly back and forth. The more she tried not to think of it, the more she enjoyed it. She loved it!
There was something so thrilling about being so helpless while being fucked! She shuddered and her mouth fell wantonly open as she gave out a half-cry, half moan. The cry ended in a deep moan, a moan as rich and deep as a cello; her father grinned triumphantly as he saw her face and began fucking her harder and faster.
He went crazy, fucking her insanely, his thick, wetly glistening cock slamming mercilessly in and out of her hideously stretched cunt, his balls slapping rhythmically against her thrashing, softly fleshed buttocks. He fucked her with all his might, lifting her hips up off the grassy ground and slamming her down again, ramming all the way into her, feeling his mushroom head slam into her young cervix deep in that velvet volcano that was her tight little pussy.
It was as if all restraining bonds had burst inside Sandy for she lewdly threw back her head and thrust her nakedly straining breasts up at his face, all the while wantonly pumping her hips up and down. She was suddenly a lewdly writhing animal, curling her legs and arms around his hard body in an effort to take all the cock he could offer.
Her mouth was open, her eyes closed, and she moaned with an obscene delight as she gripped his hotly plunging shaft hard with her cuntal muscles. She saw his eyes squint with pain and delight. He grinned savagely at her, and then their needy mouths locked together, step-daughter and step-father, while the girl ground her hips up into his groin and bent her knees as much as she could. She wanted all of him in her, every last single inch.
George gripped her with all his strength, his eyes bulging. He was going to give her the fucking of his life, a fucking she would never forget. He gathered his strength, his teeth gritted. Damn, but she's tight, he thought.
He enjoyed the rubber-glove feeling of tightness he was getting in her moistly hot little pussy. She trembled ecstatically at his slightest movement, and he knew she was enjoying it. He could feel the rubbery tightness in her cuntal lips and the taut exciting way her tiny erect clitoris stood up when his pubic hair rubbed against it. She was loving it! She was a slut and loving every minute of it!
They fucked, their now sweating bodies locked belly-to-belly as they writhed and undulated. He crushed her with his arms as he gasped, "You love it, you little bitch!"
Her only reply was a low moan and her hips moved as if they were on ball bearings as she fucked up against him with a wanton abandonment.
"Tell me you love it!"
Again she moaned as their sweating stomachs slid one against the other.
"Tell me!"
"I… I… like…"
"Tell me!" his voice was a growl as his wetly lubricated cock slammed like a jack hammer in and out of her tightly fitting cunt.
"I… I like it."
"Louder!"
"I like it. I like it." Her voice began to waver and rise as she felt the fucking rhythm increase and she worked to match thrust and thrust. She could feel his heavy balls slapping wetly against the tightly clenched cheeks of her buttocks. Her cuntal lubricant had seeped down into her anal crevice as she fucked him with obscene abandon. "I lllloovveee it!!!" Her voice was low and wanton, "I love it, fuck it, hurt me, fuck me, rape me!" She was screaming with lust now, and it seemed his cruel hurting hands were everywhere at once, all over her body; at her hips, her thighs, her nipples, raking across her wildly thrashing buttocks and splitting her ass-cheeks open while a cruel outstretched finger stabbed at her puckered little anus!
"Fuck me, fuck me all night!" she moaned, spitting the word, "fuck" out with delight and feeling and obscene pleasure shudder through her body at the forbidden word. "Fuck me!"
George closed his eyes and thought of nothing but driving it home. They fucked, crushing the wild sweet grass beneath their bodies, slipping and bucking across the slope until they were splashing in the water. I'll continue to fuck her even if she drowns! Fuck it, I ain't gonna stop now.
He fucked her as he felt her tensing beneath him and her moaning becoming deeper and more rhythmic; it was only then that he felt his own heated cum building in his balls to the point where they ached.
"Aaaaagghhh!" He felt her body suddenly full of a wanton strength as she arched up beneath him and her body began trembling deeply. Then she was fighting him like a game fish before falling back into helpless spasms of searing ecstasy as her first orgasm convulsed her.
That was too much for the step-father and, with a guttural roar, he came, pumping powerful spurts of his white-hot cum deep into her cunt, filling her up so that it spurted out all around his wildly jerking shaft. Then grinning, he pulled his eagerly ejaculating cock out and let it flop on her stomach where it continued to pump sticky white sperm onto her nakedly rippling stomach.
She lay with her loins and stomach glistening with cum, completely relaxed, feeling like putty, feeling tired, very tired… and a little uncertain about her own emotions.
George rolled off her with a groan and lay catching his breath for awhile before he got up and slowly dressed. His clothes on, he looked down at the still naked Sandy and spat in the water, then turned and climbed up the embankment.
Left by herself, Sandy had rolled over, sobbed, and lay still until it was almost dark. Then she slowly got dressed, a sad and weary young girl and went home. Two months later she realized her afternoon encounter had left her pregnant. She'd let her mother believe it was Curtis' fault, a young freshman boy she'd been seeing on the sly. It caused an uproar, predictably enough, but the reticent girl refused to tell the truth, reasoning she had been hurt enough, there was no reason to destroy her mother's life, too.
The baby was adopted out from the hospital – a darling seven pound baby girl with black hair and brown eyes. Sandy had seen her infant through the maternity ward's glass window, but never once did she hold her baby, never felt it squirm in her arms. For nine months she had been holed up with nothing to do but watch her body grow to a distended grotesque shape, and those months in solitude had taken their toll. The thirteen year old girl made a vow to herself on her first teenage birthday, to never, never allow any one man to claim such a great part of her.
Any psychiatrist would say it was a natural rebellious response to a stressful situation, that she had been far too young to bear the burden alone with no natural father to help her through the rough times and dreary, lonely nights.
Predictably, it had been all down hill from there, though Chris would never have believed it possible for her girlfriend to sink any lower into the depths of confused depravity she was exhibiting now in her twenty-second year of life. From what little Sandy had confessed, she'd spent most of her time hot-rodding around town with the loose crowd in high school – smoking dope, drinking beer, having wild parties. Everything a young girl should not even know about, let alone indulge in.
In college it had been the same way. Chris was the only friend who stuck by her, sometimes out of pity, occasionally out of unsatisfied desire to have a sister, but always out of genuine sincere friendship for Sandy, confused and ravaged though she had become.
Sandy's carefree, live-for-today, the hell-with-tomorrow attitudes could be a bit disconcerting sometimes, though, particularly when Sandy seemed to bounce from one man to the next, from one affair to another, without a trace of scars from the frequent, and often tempestuous breakups.
And Chris, her one and only real love experience now just a shattered memory, still hated herself for crying softly sometimes in the night as she remembered those wonderful times with Mark. She hated him now, loathed his brutality and cowardice, but she still thought of him on lonely nights when she lay there on the other side of the door listening to her roommate making love in low soft whispers and giggles.
Chris O'Brien stared out of the window, watching Sandy get off the Geary Street bus, a boy right behind her. Chris witnessed all of Sandy's feminine tricks: the flinging of her long black mane of her hair over her shoulder, the hip-thrust stance that could provoke the Pope himself, and the carefree style in which she handed the stranger her telephone number as casually as if he were asking for a donation for the Salvation Army. Oh, no, thought Chris with a gasp of disbelief. Another night listening to Sandy making it with another stranger… it never ends. She let the curtain fall from her clutching fingertips with a movement that might have been a sigh.