Joan Kelly

Rape me!

CHAPTER ONE

I'd found it under the front seat of Dad's pickup, the company truck he used on construction jobs. A magazine. I guess it could have been left there by anyone. It wasn't the usual magazine. It had pictures, lots of them and all in color. Even the cover was far-out. I had to get the nerve to just turn to the first page. All those naked… So I hid it under my mattress and didn't dare touch it again until this morning when I woke up and for some reason slipped it out of its hiding place and under my pillow.

In the next room they were fighting again. Always in the morning like a couple of clocks. Trailer walls were so thin. It was hard to keep from hearing certain things.

"…how long do you think a man can wait?" Al, my father, said!

"You just don't think of how inconvenient it can be for me in the morning…" That from Elaine. My mom.

"Inconvenient…!"

"Al, please don't raise your voice. Lorrie will wake up…"

I turned over on my stomach and touched the magazine. The glossy pages stuck to my fingers. From the next room the voices were muted now, coming to me in blurred spurts of sound. I pulled the magazine out from under the pillow. Oh, Lord Jesus! That girl with her legs spread, her smile, her tits offered up like that! I swallowed, wet my lips, swallowed again. Flip the page. My heart thudded, breath grew ragged like it always did when I studied the veins in the dark-haired man's cock. It was huge! Or at least it looked huge there in color on that glossy page. White along the shaft with a ridged, swollen head… if that was what you called it. Something like a mushroom but dark-blue and shiny. Shiny from the girl's mouth. The girl was looking at the cock lovingly, her tongue lolling out. It looked big enough to choke her if she let the man do what he seemed about to do. I flipped another page. God, God, God! A whole series of pictures, a sequence of a couple actually screwing! I found I was holding my breath and let it out with a whoosh. My nipples tingled. I slipped a palm down to brush one turgid stalk. The tingling got worse… or better. I wished I knew how to accept the things that had happened to my body the past few years. Like my tits especially. They'd gotten so big! At first I'd kind of liked the shape they took, but when they didn't stop growing, when they bulged out of last year's dresses and made all the boys start calling me big tits behind my back… In a way I was glad we'd moved to a new town.

I peered closely at the pictures showing the man's cock tip pushing against the squishy red membranes of the woman's open slit. Her legs were thrown back and she even held one ankle with her hand. The man had a boob in his mouth and in the next picture his bluish knob wasn't visible any more. It was inside the woman's body. My cunt throbbed and I felt a flood of juices seeping between the closed lips, drenching my hot, tingly petals. I wondered how it must feel to the woman to have herself split like that! And how it must feel to the man. Surrounded by all that buttery, hot… pussy.

I slid my own hand down under my belly, curled fingers under the furred curve of my body. I was eighteen now. Was that supposed to be a special time? My finger trembled along the furry divide of my slit. I flipped another page, sucked a short breath. The woman lay on her back with her elbows hooked under her knees. Her cunt petals were peeled wide. Her cunt glistened with wetness and the man who bent his face close to her gash was glossy around his lips and chin. His tongue was just touching the little ridge of flesh above her hole. I found that I was crinkling the pages of the magazine, I was holding it so hard. I moved the finger that lay against my warm pussy mound, moved it again and felt the wetness, the slickness. I pressed up and in until the outer cuntlips surrounded one knuckle completely. My breath was a hot ball in my throat. A silent bird beat against my insides. Each time I stroked the finger through the clinging membranes, I felt I was stepping into some forbidden territory, breaking unspoken taboos, taboos so frightening that none of my friends had ever spoken to me about them. A vague cloud of wickedness seemed to hover above my bed. I felt almost as if I were another person, separate from myself, watching the naughty girl on the bed with her dirty magazine and her finger in her… pussy. That word again. Why did it make me shiver just thinking it? I rubbed my slit faster, fanned a fingertip over the hot nubbin of flesh that seemed half-hidden under a hood. I explored farther down the buttery gash with a thumb, but like always I could find no spot that even hinted of a deeper place. That well into the depths of my body, the hot, slick tunnel that the woman in the magazine had. How deep could the man's cock go before the woman could cry out in pain? How fast did he… fuck her!

I moaned in my throat, more a growl really. The feeling of my hand on my swollen gash was too good not to moan! I rubbed my tits against the sheet. The nipples slipped out of the surrounding softness, poked their tenderness against the roughness of the bed. I widened my thighs and began to move my ass slowly up and down. The movement and the tightening of the large muscles in my butt added to the tension. I pushed the magazine to the side and put both hands against my cunt mound, spread my slit wider, gouged the sloppy pink tissues until I moaned again in rhythm to the touch. But what would it feel like if I took off all my clothes?

I jumped up and peeled the flannel bottoms, almost popped a button getting the top off. I knew it wasn't right, doing it like this, planning it even. But my chest was fluttery and full of some delightful, exciting breathlessness I couldn't identify. The door to my room was locked from the inside. I closed my eyes for a moment, thought of the prayers my mother always said with me on Sunday and then whipped my head to fling them away. As I turned to the bed again, I glimpsed my image in the mirror. That, too, was taboo. I hardly ever spent time being totally naked. The sensation of only air brushing against my skin was somehow uncomfortable. But this morning it felt strangely good. I fell across the mattress on my back, panting harder than ever. Both my palms felt warm on my belly and I pushed them lower again until I found the aching, puffed, lips of my cunt and separated them gently. Like the woman in the magazine, I bent my knees and raised them up, up… then wide apart. My heels bobbed in the air as I petted the petals and listened to the wet, squishy sound the petting made. It was lovely! Could something so lovely be bad? Yes, maybe… I didn't know! Mother said it was… but, no, she had never really said the exact words. It was in her attitude, the comments she made on certain TV programs or her opinion of someone who was gossiped about. But I wasn't… I wasn't with a man… Oh, it felt so wonderful! My crack was a running flood of slick butter now and the stretch of the tendons in my thighs brought on jabs of pleasure. I worked my ass up and down on the bed, arching and humping my back as I fingered my gash. My belly heaved. My tits had flattened back against my chest some but the nipples stood up straight and hard. They were dark, lots darker than my light skin and the circles of softness around them were dark, too. I took one hand away from my cunt and pinched a nipple, wetting it with slick juice. The juice began to cool there on my skin. It felt good, too. Everything did!

I don't remember why I thought of the hairbrush on the table by my bed, why I reached over and took it. But the shape of the handle was smooth and curved sexy-looking somehow.

Especially after looking at the pictures of that man's cock in the magazine. Careful at first, I guided it down between my swollen cuntlips and rubbed it up and down. The plastic was immediately drenched with my pussy juice. It made a sucking sound as my folds clasped around the smoothness, heated it. The brush handle didn't make as much friction as my fingers, and I could push it harder, move it faster than I'd stroked myself before. Now I dropped my legs, clenched my thighs tight together around the probing hardness of the brush. The end of the handle was a gentle point, rounded enough not to be dangerous… I dared to probe along the deepest part of my slit, pressing hardest at my cit.

"Ohhhh!" My gasp made a froth of spit at the corners of my mouth. I tossed my head back and forth on the pillow. There was a cramp in my calves and I found I was pointing my toes as hard as I could as I fucked the brush handle up and down the steamy divide of my cunt.

My breath was wheezy and wild. Without thinking I bundled my pillow, scratched frantically for the other one and pushed them both down between my thighs. My ass thumped feverishly against the mattress as I tightened my scissor-hold on the pillows, imagining a man between my legs, covering my belly, covering my whole body. Pressing me down against the bed, crushing me, kissing me! How helpless I felt, how wicked. But the frenzied sensations that spread over my belly and throbbed in the pit of my convulsing pussy caused me not to care about anything but making the feeling even better. After all I wasn't really screwing a guy. When the odd tingly itch began to come in steady waves of pleasure, I knew I was going to have one – have a climax. Before it had just been a word, a mysterious word that some people talked coolly about and others whispered. Now it was happening to me! I rolled half on one side, pumping wildly with my ass. I was rubbing with the brush handle, my fingers, the bunched pillows – anything I could reach. And something, maybe that hidden tube of my cunt was clasping inside me – as if it was around a man's cock. I couldn't create enough friction, couldn't scratch the lovely itch enough. It poured over me, burned my skin. I choked off a loud cry and moaned instead I flopped onto my stomach and tossed my hips around in wild circles. Then I knew I was rubbing too hard. The ecstasy built in half a second to an excruciating edge and burst. I gave a gasping cry and shivered into the throes of the spasm. The muscles in my thighs ridged out as I tried to keep from crying out. I wanted to touch every inch of my body all at the same time. Even as I collapsed and the spasms deep in my cunt began to die away I still tingled. The places between my toes itched, the backs of my knees where the flesh was so soft – all of me felt lavished, drenched with pleasure.

"Lorrie?" My mother just outside my door! I stiffened, tried to make my breathing slow down some.

"What is it, Mom?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were getting up. I've got to run out for a second and pick up something at the Seven-Eleven. Don't dawdle, because we're going to the church at ten. I think I've found you a new friend. Mrs. Caruthers has a daughter your age, and I'm sure she'll be happy to show you around town so you can meet some people your own age."

"Yes, Mom, I'm getting up." I swung my legs out of bed. Between my thighs the swelled outer lips were shiny slick, dewdrops of sex butter dangling in the brown fur of my cunt hair. I tried to think of some prayer I might say to make everything all right. Nothing came to mind. I wasn't so good at praying as Elaine was. I knew I'd done something wrong by fingering my cunt. Finger-fucking was what my girlfriends back in Billings called it. But it was the first time I'd ever come.

"Come," I said, surprised at the huskiness of my voice. The word felt strange on my tongue. Such an ordinary word until you thought of it like this, like what had happened to me. The sex magazine lay open on the bed. Now with my excitement passed, the pleasure behind me, the pictures seemed wrong. The idea of a man's cock inside my cunt was scary and the thought of him pumping in and out of me with that huge, hard thing seemed gross, carnal. Things that animals did in the darkness of the forest, or dogs in the shameless season of their rutting.

"I'm just not going to think about it," I said aloud and yanked a pair of nylon panties up my thighs. I bit my lip and tried to ignore the tiny jolt of pleasure when the silky crotchband rubbed against my swollen cuntlips. I opened my door and started down the short hall towards the bathroom. I could get my face washed and teeth brushed before Mom got back and… "Lorrie baby, let me look at you." My dad had caught my wrist as he came out of the bathroom. There was a towel draped around his neck. His muscled chest moved as he held me at arm's length.

I was coming apart with embarrassment. I never had my clothes off around my father. I'd thought he'd already gone to work. I wanted to break and run back down the hall.

"I thought… I mean… that no one was in the bath…"

"I'm through." He smiled, looked at my bare shoulders, my tits. "I forget what a big girl you're getting to be." He made me turn so he could see the profile of my body. "You got breasts just like your mother did when she was young, honey. Maybe even better…" My eyes were cast down. I felt the red flush on my cheeks.

"I guess I better hurry and get washed…"

"Hold your horses. Your old daddy doesn't hardly get a chance to see his only daughter in her birthday suit." He patted my ass. The gentle spank of his hand through the nylon made me gasp. He was my father, after all. Why had my body tingled? I felt awful and naughty and more confused than ever. My nipples were standing straight out from the dark soft circles of titty flesh that surrounded them. I felt like sinking through the floor.

"You got legs, too, honey. Some of the finest legs I've ever seen." He shook his head. "Gonna have to be some hell of a man come along before I'll be giving you away to get married."

"Oh, Daddy." He was turning me more, stopped me when I faced away from him. I could almost feel his eyes on the sharp inward curve of my waist, the sudden, smooth flare of my hips. And he had to be looking at the way my ass stuckout in back. I was thankful that I had at least put on a pair of panties. But what was wrong with me? He was my own flesh and blood. He'd never done anything… wrong.

"You're so slender, just like a young tree blowing in the breeze." He was talking like he did when he drank. I was afraid of Daddy when he drank. I was a little afraid of him even when he wasn't. He stepped close again and petted his hands down over my hair. I closed my eyes, waiting for it to be over, wondering why my heart seemed about to jump from my chest.

"Such pretty, fine hair. It's past your shoulders now… damned if it ain't." He let his fingers brush my neck. "Why I remember when I used to give you rides on my shoulders. You've grown a hunk since then."

I stared down at my feet. I was trembling. If he knew what I'd just been doing in my room, if he knew about the book I'd found under the seat of his truck… I was ashamed of my lack of will power. And it was as if his eyes on my body shamed me even more. I longed to cover my nakedness, to hide away the carnal sight of my tits and belly and thighs.

"You go get ready for breakfast now," Dad said. He slapped me on the ass just before I got into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I leaned against it panting. It was crazy how I'd just fingered my cunt and made myself come and now my body seemed to yearn for more! It wasn't possible. It wasn't right. Had I opened some awful Pandora's box? Had I started some force to working inside me that would control me from now on? No, it was preposterous to believe that.

I went to the sink and squeezed toothpaste on my brush. But as I scrubbed my teeth, my cunt mound bumped against the edge of the sink. Even that slight pressure made me have to breathe harder through my nose. I rinsed my mouth, washed my face and tiptoed back down the hall towards my room.

I don't know why I stopped. When I saw Dad through the partly opened door to his and Mom's bedroom, I should have just kept going. But my legs froze, my breathing, too. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, half turned away from me. But I could see the brutish jut of his cock, the bruised-looking crown, the steady jacking movement of his fingers. He held a magazine open, a magazine with pictures like the one I'd found in his truck. His face had a slack, dazed look to it. Finally I drew a tiny breath, steadied myself against the wall. My very own father! Somehow I hadn't thought of my parents in a sexual way. They were just… my parents. But there was always a vague tension between them. Lots of times my mom slept on the sofa in the front roam.

Dad's fingers clasped the heavy shaft of his cock and moved the skin up and back. The skin slapped when it wrinkled around the flare of his knob. His naked thighs were ridged with muscles and I could see the gentle swing of his balls as he jacked himself. Jacked off. That's what boys called it. Beat their meat. I swallowed hard, felt a tingling rush at my crotch. When I put a finger down under my cunt mound, it came away wet. I'd already soaked the crotch of my panties with butter. I was hot again, struggling against those forces inside me that had burst to the surface that very morning. The confused guilt I felt from watching my father do something so private to himself gave way to curiosity. The way his cockhead swelled when he started moving his hand faster. The rigid, dangerous look of his shaft. I knew enough about biology to realize that the reservoir of sperm in a male's balls was pumped up at the moment of orgasm and pushed with force down the canal in his cock. When a man came inside a woman, the sperm carried the tiny swimming tadpoles, spurted them out into her cunt and they swam into the mouth of her womb and made a baby. Just thinking about all this had me touching my pussy again. The thoughts weren't very comfortable. I couldn't imagine the time when I would want a man's cock penetrating my cherry, stabbing my cunt and jetting some awful, scary fluid inside. But at the same time these images were exciting me. The nylon of my panties had worked up between my cuntlips. I pushed my finger against the wet material, worked a tiny friction over my clit.

My father had slumped over his cock and was jacking his hand so fast that it made a sharp rapid slapping sound. Something glistened at the tiny hole that cut the taut dome of the knob. I closed my eyes, yanked my hand away from my aching cunt. He was going to come! I couldn't stay and watch. I couldn't do something so outright wicked. But my feet wouldn't move. I held to the doorframe and trembled as something white collected at his cock tip. Suddenly the frothing droplet jumped and made a white streak across the pages of the sex book Dad was holding. He slowed his movements now, working his hand slow and steady as a new glop of cream bubbled thickly out. I watched it ooze down in slick strings over his fingers. So that was what it looked like! My shoulders shook at the thought of having anything so slimy inside my body. How could people screw?

The spurts were coming fast now. They flicked the cummy strings over Dad's thighs and legs and I heard the stuff dripping onto the floor between his legs. His balls looked heavy and huge and I wondered how much seed they held. Did the sperm come from both of them at the same time? Was it hot? I gasped for air, pushed myself away from the door. When I was safe inside my own room with the door shut and locked, my hands flew to the elastic waistband of my panties.

"Nooo!" I said to my naughty thoughts. I wanted more than anything to strip my underwear off and rub my cunt like crazy again. The desire was so strong that I stood there with my feet planted apart and fought against my stormy emotions.

But someone had come in the front door of the trailer. Mom, back from shopping. I took my hands away from my crotch and dug through my drawer for something to wear. I heard her banging pots in the kitchen.

"You'd better come on pretty soon, Lorrie!" she called.

I pulled a bra under my heavy tits, got it fastened. Lots of girls didn't bother wearing them but I knew I'd be embarrassed to death if a boy accidentally brushed one with his arm and felt my naked tit.

"Lorrie…"

"Coming!" I shoved the magazine back under the mattress and pulled on a pair of faded denims and buttoned them up. My sandals made the spots between my toes tingle again, but I ignored that, too. One last glimpse at my reflection in the mirror above my dresser. The jersey bulged out with my high, firm tits. Oh damn, why were they so big!

"Lorrie?"

"I said I was coming…"

CHAPTER TWO

Mom guided the Plymouth around a car trying to park and turned left up a hill. She drove with both hands on the top of the steering wheel, chin poked out to see every last inch of road in front of the car. I noticed a strand of hair that had come loose from her bun, wanted to push it back but didn't. She would have been irritated at my touch.

"You know I think it's just grand that your father got this contract here in Olema. Such a nice change from Billings, such an improvement." She smiled vaguely at me. "Don't you think so?"

"Oh sure… sure."

"And the trailer park isn't so bad, is it?"

"It's a nice trailer park." I looked at the passing people, watched the trees slide by. I had learned the easiest way to talk with my mother was to agree with everything and not ask questions about anything difficult.

"Well, you have your own room now," she went on, "and a girl sixteen is entitled to a little privacy. Your father and I agree on that."

"Who's this Mrs. Caruthers anyway?"

"The lady who invited me to join the church. I met her our first night in town when I was over seeing Reverend Dixon about changing our membership from the First Christian in Billings."

"And she has a daughter?"

Mother found the loose strand of hair, poked at it with her fingers. "Yes, and she's in the same grade you are next September." She turned down a tree-lined street and slowed. "They should be at the church this morning. I'll be helping Mrs. Caruthers on getting ready for the coming social."

The town of Olema seemed greener, denser than Billings. Maybe because the summers would be longer, the warm days warmer. I smelled honeysuckle and some other flower I couldn't identify. Mother glanced my way.

"Mrs. Caruthers has even arranged a date for you. Her and her daughter arranged it, I guess."

"Mom! I don't know if I want… I haven't even met this…"

"Her name's Janey and I've met her. Very polite, very sweet girl. Usually I'm very careful about the boys you date, you know that. But Mrs. Caruthers assured me that the MacInnes brothers were fine young men. Active in the church. She's known their family since she was a child herself."

"But, Mom…" I shut up. I didn't want to go on a date, not just like that. I felt like getting to know people on my own time. Maybe I really felt like hiding out in our trailer until the summer drifted by and worrying about the new school, the new kids when I absolutely had to.

"Look, there they are now!" Mom pulled to the curb so fast a tire scraped and jolted us to a stop. When the introductions were over, Janey Caruthers commented my mother's dress which I thought was pretty plain. Mother beamed. Mrs. Caruthers was a blandish woman with small breasts. And I couldn't help notice the way she eyed mine. I tried not to show a profile, felt nervous and sweaty there under everyone's eyes. Janey had small tits, too.

"Come on, I'll show you the recreation room," she said and I followed her down a flight of steps. When we were out of earshot, she studied me, pushed blonde hair out of her eyes. "So your old lady's a church nut, too, huh?"

I was too surprised to do anything but nod. "Have you really fixed me up with a date for tonight?"

"Don't thank me yet." Her long hair flopped lank and pretty around her shoulders. "You'll meet him in a second."

"What do you mean?"

"The MacInnes boys aren't really my idea of a good time," she shrugged. "But it's a ride to the drive-in anyway." Janey made the bottom of the steps before I did, and I noticed that she had a way of walking with her hips that she hadn't done in front of our mothers. It was the little pause, a hitch in her stride which made each half of her ass sway out farther than it had to go. For fun I tried to mimic her. It wasn't as easy as it looked.

Two boys were playing ping-pong when we came into the big game room. I knew without Janey telling me that they were our dates. Jimmy and Ron MacInnes. Through the hellos and shy smiles I saw Janey put her hand on Ron's shoulder, knew that my date would be Jim. Jim wore glasses that kept sliding off his short nose and when he laughed, it sounded more like a cough. His brother was taller, maybe a little older. We would go in Ron's car. Ron was the best-looking of the two except when he opened his mouth, and then he looked a little like Bugs Bunny.

We sat on the sofa and talked. Jim was eager and polite, and I liked him all right – what little I knew about boys wasn't much to go on. He asked the usual questions. Yes, my father was a supervisor working for the company putting up the new bridge west of Olema. Yes, I was living at the Happy Glen trailer park. Yes, I'd be a senior next year. No, I didn't like to play ping-pong or ride horses and I didn't think Raquel Welch was all that hot. While we talked, I kept noticing the way Janey touched Ron on the arm, on the leg, even poking him in the stomach once. She smiled and blinked her long lashes. Maybe she liked to show off her green eye-shadow. The boys decided finally to square off for another ping-pong battle as Janey and I watched from the sidelines. She leaned close.

"You'll have to show Jimmy where to put his hand tonight," she whispered.

"Oh." I swallowed. If Jimmy didn't know, I sure wasn't going to show him. I wondered how my mother got the idea that Janey was the type of friend she wanted me to associate with. There was something about her I liked though. I couldn't exactly put my finger on it.

"He doesn't kiss worth a shit, either," Janey laughed, "but then neither does Ron." She puckered like a fish, laughed again. The bays smiled our way, batted the ball across the net like a couple of wild men.

"Your hair sure is pretty," I said, trying to change the subject.

"So's yours." Smiles. She was looking at my tits. Darn big tits!

"I guess they look pretty funny, huh?" I felt myself reddening. "I mean, me being so tall and kind of skinny…"

Janey looked amazed. "You're not skinny! Jesus, I wish I was…" She touched palms under her small boobs, tossed her head. "But I got a nice ass, anyway." We laughed together. Yes, I did like her. And was a little scared of her, too. I looked at Jimmy. At least he didn't scare me, not in the least.

Ron parked in the wrong spot twice and Janey complained so much about not being able to see the screen that he moved to the front row. It didn't matter to me. I'd seen the movie once before in Billings. When the boys got out to go to the snack bar, Janey could hardly wait to lean over the back of her seat and start talking about them.

"Did you see Jimmy shaking hands with your dad?"

I had to laugh. "Yeah."

"I thought he was going to pee his pants."

"My dad's pretty big."

"Kind of mean-looking, too." Janey lifted her eyebrows.

"He's not really mean." I frowned. "Except when he gets to drinking too much." I was embarrassed for having said so much. Janey seemed not to mind. She turned the rear-view mirror down to look at herself. With the low-cut peasant blouse and blue corduroy hip-huggers she looked adorable. And Ron obviously thought so, too. I was wishing I hadn't worn a dress. Jim couldn't seem to keep his eyes off my bare knees. If he so much as laid a hand on me, I knew I'd freeze up like a block of ice.

"Hey, beeyootiful!" A long-haired boy in a black T-shirt leaned his head in Janey's window. She bounced ecstatically, put her arms around his neck.

"This is Farley," Janey announced, telling me like he was somebody very important. Another boy stood behind Farley; blonde; ranger. There was a blond stubble on his chin and a folding knife in a leather sheath at his belt. Farley looked my way, took in my tits and the way my jersey was pushed out.

"So you all are cuttin 'round town with the MacInnes twins, are ya?" I squirmed under his gaze.