Vincent Church

Degraded teenager

CHAPTER ONE

Wendy walked around naked, her teenaged body budding at several interesting spots.

Her tits were just beginning to form now, pushing out firmly from her chest, the nipples permanently erect red buds that would be just right when they got a little bigger and she got a little older. They would be perfect for a man (or a woman, for that matter) to suck on and lick all wet and juicy and make her all tingly and ready for anything.

But that was for the future, of course. That was for the grown-up girls, letting men paw them and put their fingers in the hairy holes that grown-up girls had to offer. And it was for girls older than Wendy to play with the toys a man could show. Those big, stiff pricks she had heard so much about. Oh yes, she'd heard about all the strange things you could do with them. She couldn't wait to have one deep inside her young pussy, and she couldn't wait to have one in her mouth, to see what it tasted like, and to suck on it till it gave her that hot, sticky, metallic fluid which she had also heard so much about.

Yes, there was a lot awaiting her as soon as she came of age. But that was not for several years. She was only just thirteen years old. She was much too young to have a man sticking his cock in her pussy – or so she had been told. But it was a little bit frustrating, and she couldn't keep from desiring such a supposedly tremendous experience as everyone kept telling her sex was. The thought of doing it someday made her young, pink pussy simply drool with excitement.

Yes, one day she would have a young man who liked her a lot, and he would want to fuck her. Then she would have his cock to play with, to suck on, to stick in her cunt, to do all the exciting things she had heard about.

She had talked with her girlfriends who had actually gone ahead and let a boy fuck them, and they all told her the experience was fabulous and unforgettable. But she was afraid to go ahead and do it. It was safer, much safer to remain a virgin, even if a horny one.

After all, she didn't want a baby, for gosh sakes!

She could wait. She would have to.

Until the time came for her to get married, or anyway to have an affair, she would have to make do with something less drastic than fucking.

Namely, masturbating. That was her favorite sport by that time in her thirteenth year. She loved to run her fingers through her pussy and make herself get wetter and wetter. And then came the fateful climax, making her shake and quiver and come.

Ah well, better not to think about such things. It only got her feeling ready to jerk off once again, and that was a risky thing to do.

So she skipped down the street, not thinking about sex at all – if she could help it.

Mr. Ogden wanted to see her. He beckoned her to come into his house. What on earth could Mr. Ogden want? she thought to herself.

But, since he was the father of her best friend, she couldn't exactly refuse to go and see what he wanted. It wouldn't be right at all.

Tish, her best friend, was out doing something very very naughty, but her father wouldn't know about that, of course. Wendy hoped he wouldn't ask her about it.

Tish was such a sexual creature, she couldn't get along for any extended period of time without having a cock to suck on or sit on, or some boy (or girl) that she could put her naked and open pussy upon. She liked that a lot – being eaten out, having a wet tongue, male or female, stroking the labes of her young pussy and twirling around on her pink, hard clit. That was fun, all right. Like Wendy, she was sometimes forced to resort to masturbation, but not very often, for Tish was a lot braver and more aggressive than Wendy and most of the other girls at school. Tish usually got what she wanted which was usually a boy of seventeen or eighteen with a long cock that could work on demand.

But that was Tish, and not Wendy. She felt guilty about talking to Tish's father when Tish wasn't there. She felt uneasy possessing all that secret knowledge about the man's daughter and not wanting to let on any of it. She wondered if by any chance he was going to ask her about Tish's private life.

She hoped not. There was very little she was willing to say. After all, she didn't want to lose Tish as a friend, and that would surely happen if she let Tish's father know about what the girl did, especially where the opposite sex was concerned. In that department, she had a whole lot, and Wendy was sure Tish didn't want her father to know about it. Her mother, that was a different story, for Tish's mother was reportedly every bit as wild as her daughter.

"Come on in," Lew Ogden said. "Come on inside, honey, I want to talk to you."

"Yes, sir," she said.

"That's a good girl."

She gulped. She wondered what was to come.

Wendy didn't suspect a thing when Lew Ogden asked her into the house. She and Tish were the best of friends, and Lew and Penny, the girl's parents, were almost like family. She went willingly, thinking Lew wanted her to perform some chore Tish had left undone.

The first hint that something was wrong came when Lew suggested she take a sip from his highball. He had offered her things before – money mostly. She remembered her thirteenth birthday, mere months before, when he gave her an envelope with $25 in it, and offered her $25 more if she'd sit on his lap. But she knew about that! She knew about the hard thing in his pants leg, what it was for, and where he wanted to put it.

"W-Where's Tish?" she asked now, knowing the girl was out joyriding with two older boys from school, but needing something to say.

Lew drank deep from the highball. He left half an inch of booze and handed her the glass. She drank to be polite, and gagged. He laughed. "If I know Tish, she's getting laid right about now," he said matter-of-factly. "Her and Penny both. They fuck like crazy – anybody."

She blushed, unable to think of anything to say. She'd heard her parents say the same thing about Penny Ogden. But hearing it from Lew was somehow different. She felt the hot blood flooding her cheeks as the warmth of the liquor began to spread through her belly. Lew often talked dirty, but had never before been so bold. Her gaze dropped to his crotch. She stifled a gasp. The front of his pants bulged as if he had a crowbar in there. She wanted to run, to get out of there before…

"What you need is something to wash down that drink," said Lew. He moved to the bar at the far side of the living room and refilled the glass. He winked at her, pouring soda in with the gin and vermouth.

The liquor had already begun to make her dizzy, and she didn't want any more. But when he sat on the sofa and patted the cushion, she stepped forward, heart thumping. Lew was handsome, not very old – she supposed he was still in his 30's – and although she was frightened by sex, and had never let a boy do more than feel her small titties, the thought of a grown man wanting her was exciting.

"I-I have to get home," she whispered when he moved close, put his arm around her shoulders, and held the glass to her lips. Again she sipped. It tasted better this time.

Lew turned the glass and ran his tongue over her lipstick smear. "Um. You taste good."

She watched him gulp. For no reason she could think of, she giggled. She felt silly, light-headed. Flirting, she was learning, was fun. She became conscious of the patch of red curly hair between her young thighs. She glanced down; the hem of her mini was too high.

"You've got nice legs for a kid," observed Lew, grinning as she tugged at the garment.

"I'm not!"

"What?"

"A kid!" She turned sideways, bringing her knees up on the sofa. She knew she had nice legs – knew she was nice allover. All the boys at school wanted to touch her. Even Daddy had begun to look at her in that funny way lately.

Lew studied her. His hand moved up the side of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. He began to play with her hair. What was he thinking? she wondered. That her long red hair was nice too? Or was he wondering, as the books said men do, if the hair on her pussy was the same pretty color? She watched him uncross his legs. The thing in his pants shot up tall, and she looked hastily away.

"If you're not a kid," he said finally, "you won't mind me doing this." His huge, calloused hand dropped to her left breast, squeezing it.

"Don't! I… I'll tell Penny."

Scowling, Lew removed his hand. "Like I said – a punk kid with nice legs."

She saw two of him: twin fuzzy faces swimming before her green eyes. She wasn't a kid. Wasn't! She'd stopped being a kid when the little slit between her legs began to bleed, and Mummy showed her how to put red X's on the calendar. She told him so; she replaced his hand, leaned forward with her head on his chest, and let him feel.

Before she knew what was happening, Lew had the buttons open down the front of her blouse and was undoing the snaps at her back. She felt the bra drop free, felt his rough fingers kneading her nipples. She was frightened, but she didn't want him to call her a kid again. And the liquor was doing funny things to her head… making the room spin… making the TV announcer's voice sound like it was coming from the deep end of a tunnel.

Lew pushed her gently away; he made her lie back, slouched down on the cushions, the blouse hanging open at either side of her pink and white pointy tits. "Bet you taste good all over," he said, mouthing one rigid peak.

Wendy gasped. No one had ever sucked her small titties before. Her head and the room began to spin faster. She wanted him to stop. His tongue was doing strange things to her insides. Her tight little red pussy felt swollen, and each time he licked a nipple the button hidden down there seemed to vibrate and tingle.

Suddenly Lew took hold of her wrist and guided her hand to the huge bulge in his pants. "Play with my cock," he told her. "Take it out. Show me how grown-up you are."

"Nooo…!" she breathed, trying to back away. But he had wedged her into the corner of the sofa, and he undid the zipper himself, forcing her hand inside the open fly of the pants. Her trembling fingers touched him: he was hot and hard! Again she gasped. She had never imagined a man's thing could be so big.

"Ummm!" Lew's hips bucked, ramming the round head of his prick into the smooth palm of her hand. "Stroke it, honey. Up and down. Be nice to Uncle Lew."

She didn't want to. Oh, she didn't want to: she was so scared she thought for sure she'd shake right out of her clothes. She'd seen other girls do it – jerk boys off in the movies: pump up and down until white creamy stuff spurted, then wipe the tip clean with a hanky. She'd even seen one girl bend and take the awful thing in her mouth while it was spitting. But she'd never before seen one close up, or touched one. And those she had seen were mere toothpicks compared to the fat, veiny shaft she now held in her hand.

Lew groaned as her tiny hand freed him and moved tentatively up and down. "Do it, baby. Babydoll… ahhhhhhhhhhhh! Jesus, that's it. That's the fucking way." He let go of her wrist. His hand moved slowly up the inside of her thigh, toward the hem of the mini.

"Ow, don't! Don't!" She tried to close her legs to stop his hand from advancing, but his fingers had already found the legband of her panties, and one was boring hard into her virgin cunthole. She released his stiff cock, balled her tiny hands into fists, and beat furiously on his shoulders. "Stop, oh please, Uncle Lew, stop!!"

"Stop? I'll stop!" growled Lew, falling upon her, his weight pressing her back over the armrest. "I'll stop after I get my ten inches of dick up into your sweet belly!"

"You-you're hurting me," she cried, the pain in her spine so bad she forgot to keep her legs closed. Another stubby finger twisted in, opening and spreading the tender lips of her little red pussy. She was being raped. Oh God, no! she thought. Stop him! True, flirting with a grown man – her best friend's father – was fun, and for a moment she had even enjoyed holding his prick, but she had never meant to let him go this far. His fingers were driving so high in her slit – wetting her, taunting her clit, causing new, fiery sensations along with the pain – she thought sure he was trying to tear out her maidenhead with the sharp nails grating the slippery inner walls of her cunt. She thrashed around, squealing and beating about his head and shoulders until her fists ached. Then she lay still, sobbing, letting him have his way.

"That's my sweetheart – don't fight Uncle Lew. All your old Uncle Lew wants is a piece, a little piece." He used his knees to spread her legs even wider. His wet fingers abandoned her cunt to take hold of the crotch of her panties.

"Ow! No, please! Please don't do it to me." The sound of nylon ripping made her wince. She felt the cold zipper down the front of his pants pressed against her vulva, digging into the pinched crack of her ass. Then the fiery tip of his cock – the awesome thing she'd held in her hand – was pushed against the tight pink aperture between her quivering thighs.

Lew gripped her hips. Using his stiffness to work the torn panties aside, baring her from pubic mound to asshole, he bent her far back over the arm of the sofa, and thrust.

Wendy opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. He was killing her, tearing her cute, red pussy apart with the cock that was too big, too fat, too hard to go where he was trying to put it. Again she balled her hands into fists and beat his head and shoulders. She scratched his face. She whimpered and fought, and tried to wiggle her bottom and her hot virgin cunthole out of reach of his bludgeoning member.

"Motherfucking cock-teaser!" Lew became a wild animal. His hand closed tight around her slim neck, and he squeezed and lunged, making her go rigid with the dual pain of strangulation and hard cock being driven into her belly. "You'll fuck or I'll break your pretty cock-teasing neck!" he snapped, embedding the head of his tool deep in her pussy.

"It won't go. It won't! It won't!" She knew it was no use fighting any more – he'd simply choke her until she opened. But she knew also that the big hard thing protruding from the front of his pants would never fit in her tight little sheath. She was certain of it: nothing that big could be forced up the close channel she'd inspected with a mirror and wondered about almost every night since the periods came. The fat round tip was in – she could feel it, actually feel it, throbbing and growing bigger inside her – but not even Lew, who was tall and strong and seemed to know all about fucking, could stretch the pink tightness ten inches worth.

"Raise your knees," he directed, loosening the grip on her neck.

"Oh! You… you let me go!" she wailed. But she complied, putting her knees in the air, thighs wide at either side of him like in the sex picture book Daddy kept on the top shelf in his bedroom closet.

"Now push up," continued Lew. "Lift your ass when I drive. Help me." His hands went to her bottom, cupping her ass cheeks. His lips covered hers, sucking, sucking.

Her eyes opened wide with new pain as the knob of his cock reached the elastic barrier of her maidenhead. She moaned into his mouth, gagging on his tongue; but she lifted. She planted her feet on the cushions, wanting it over with, wanting his long thing to spit so he'd leave her alone. It was as if he were pushing a tree trunk up her hot, hairy hole.

Suddenly Lew pulled back so far she thought his meat was going to pop out of its sheath. The fingers digging into the soft flesh of her bottom moved down her ass crack. One found her anus, and began to press in. Her sphincter closed tight. "Not there too," she yelped into his mouth, her rectum protesting at the mere threat of violation. "No, Uncle Lew, no!"

Then he thrust, hard! So hard she thought her ass was going through the sofa. The tip of his cock hit the barrier, breaking through as his long middle finger twisted high in her pussy.

There was a bright flash of light and pain as the membrane gave and his big hairy nuts met her bottom. Lew groaned. His lips slid from her mouth, down her neck, to the rigid buttons atop her creamy breasts. "Babydoll," he sighed, making the prick up her belly expand and contract.

She felt bloated, filled with stiff cock. Her sweet little asshole objected to the dart buried there. Her heart threatened to burst through her chest. But the pain in her pussy was gone, and now, as Lew began to fuck slowly in and out, in and out, in and out, she felt a breathtaking thrill spread through her trembling loins.

"D-Don't hurt me," she breathed, not knowing why she'd said it. It didn't hurt any more. She felt the warm blood oozing out and down the halves of her ass, but now the steely prick in her sex was making her hips move; Lew's big cock was making her belly go round and round, like when she looked at the pictures in her own daddy's fuck book. She saw herself beneath the driving hardon, and her body, her plump bottom, seemed to know just what to do.

His finger still high in her rectum, Lew raised up on one arm. He stared drunkenly down at her. He looked from her flushed face to where the root of his meat protruded. "Man, a red-headed cunt! Cherry, too! Lookit that sweet fuckin' gash breathe!"

Chewing her lip, still frightened even though it felt good, Wendy followed his gaze past the skirt and torn panties bunched at her waist. Her eyes widened in wonder: she simply couldn't believe all of him was buried in there. And her pussy was pulsing, as he'd said. Although she couldn't see the pink slit under her belly, the puffy mound of curls above was heaving like a small bellows.

Lew pulled back, withdrawing half the length of his bloody member. "Jesus Christ, what a pussy!"

"Ow! Ow! Owwwww!" She gyrated wildly as the hard cylinder fucked itself back into her to the hilt. She knew it was wrong, that she shouldn't enjoy being raped, but it felt good. It felt better than anything she'd ever experienced before.

But just as it was getting really good, and her clit was beginning to twang toward what she knew would be her first orgasm, Mrs. Ogden came through the front door into the living room. And then the big, lovely dick was being yanked from her wet cunthole, and Penny was yelling, and Lew – oh, fucking bastard Lew! Lew was shouting the most horrible lies about her.

Nor could she object. She was embarrassed, ashamed, and confused, still dizzy from the liquor he'd made her drink and the new fiery sensations coursing through her young, trembling loins. She wished the ground would open and hide her from the prying grown-up eyes.

And then she was crying: weeping uncontrollably because. Penny was slapping her face, calling her names, and Lew was saying she'd come in while he slept on the sofa, whipped out his cock and made him – forced him – to do it to her!

"But I didn't! I didn't!" she shouted back at them, turning red with the fear of being framed. It was a very real fear, for Lew was making it his business to convince everyone that Wendy was the aggressor and not himself.

He made up an incredible story about how she snuck into the house, saw that no one was around (except for Lew asleep on the sofa), and pulled his zipper down and took out his prick. She jerked on it, so he said, while he was still sleeping, and it wasn't his fault that he started to get hard. Then she stuck it in her mouth and sucked him till he couldn't, get rid of his hardon if he wanted to. Which of course he did want to do. Of course!

He claimed that she had broken into his liquor cabinet and stolen lots of liquor, which she freely drank till she was totally stoned and didn't care what she did.

There was no telling anyone that the exact opposite was actually the case. It was Lew who got her drunk and left her unable to defend herself against his lewd and immoral advances.

He had raped her, she told everyone. But no one would listen worth a damn. They all wanted to believe Lew because he was older and better able to make excuses for his behavior. Everyone knew that a girl like Wendy would sooner or later try to seduce poor Lew.

Even Tish was upset about the whole affair. Wendy thought that she would understand and sympathize with her situation. She had probably been in many similar situations, the wanton bitch!

"You're in plenty of trouble, young lady," Penny said with malice in her voice.

"But… but…"

"Don't give me any of your buts, you awful cunt, you! I knew you had eyes out for my husband, I just knew it! I saw the way you came sniffing around his cock day after day, on the pretense of coming to see Tish. But that alibi didn't fool me at all, no sir, I could see it, I could see very well what you were after, yes! I'm no idiot, you fucking pussy! I was your age once myself, and not all that long ago either, just in case you were thinking about making a crack or something. I ain't that old! Shit, when I was your age I had the hots for a few older men myself – couldn't wait to get them to whip their cocks out and let me suck a little, oh yes, and have them hot and hard in my twat. But I never went about it like you did, jumping after another woman's husband, while the wife is away, you decide to play. No, sir, I don't go for that at all, cunt! You aren't going to get away with it, I'll see to it that you don't! I'll see to it. You'll have to pay for what you did, young lady, you will have to pay through the nose and more! This is no little thing you did here. This is what is known as adultery, and that's a very serious thing, a crime as a matter of fact, a crime you're going to have to pay for if I know what's what, and pay and pay and pay. I'll show you what happens when you do something that mean and low. You'll wish you hadn't, that's for sure!"

"But… but Penny, you have to listen to me! This isn't the way it happened, really it isn't. I'm not the guilty one, it's your husband, your husband!"

"Shut up!" Lew cried.

"Yes, shut up!" seconded Penny.

"The bitch doesn't know what she's saying, she's just trying to get me into trouble, that's all, and her plan won't work, it won't!"

"Don't get yourself excited, dear. I don't believe a single fucking word this tramp has said. Not a word. I know she went after you, that she seduced you and you couldn't help yourself. What man could when a thirteen-year-old cunt shows you her stuff, stretches her pussy out for you to lick – you think I don't know how good a teenybopper pussy tastes? I've tasted a few when I was growing up, and I knew they're out of this world. I wouldn't even mind it if you, darling, had told me you really wanted to taste this girl's cunt, but you didn't want to, I know that. You were tricked into sticking your tongue and then your cock into her hole. She has quite a few tricks up her sleeve but maybe we can show her we have a trick or two of our own, hey?"

"Yes, dear. I'm sure we can. But what do you think we should do?"

"The answer to that is simple," Penny said. "What we are going to do is take this bitch to juvenile court and see her go to jail!"

"To… jail?" Lew repeated, gulping loudly. "Do you… do you think that's really necessary, Penny? I mean, uh, really necessary?"

"Of course it's necessary, dear. How else will she learn her lesson? There is no other way, really, not if we want to keep her from doing something like this ever again. And we wouldn't want that, would we, dear?"

"Hm?"

"We wouldn't want her trying to seduce another woman's husband, would we? You know, like she did with you, getting her to fuck you."

"Oh… oh, yeah," muttered Lew.

He was feeling dubious about what was going to happen to the girl if they turned her in to juvenile court with his version of what happened. Did he really want to see her go to a juvenile home?

"Darling?"

"What, Penny?"

"Didn't you hear me?"

"What?"

"Didn't you hear what I just said to you? You look like you're daydreaming. What about?"

"No, no, I wasn't daydreaming. You are imagining things, honey, that's all."

"Well, anyway, what I said was, you don't sound very enthusiastic about taking the girl to court. Or am I mistaken?"

"Yes… yes, you're mistaken. I want to take her to the court and I want to see her found guilty and given a stiff punishment, as stiff as they come. I don't think any penalty is too harsh, do you hear me, girl?"

"Yes," Wendy said sullenly.

She knew what a rat he was, even if Penny didn't. But for some reason, she began to suspect that Penny knew he was not telling the truth – she simply found it better or more satisfying to believe his far-fetched story.

At her expense.

What was she going to do? What were these awful people going to do to her? Send her to jail? For how long? The rest of her life?

Oh God! Why did this have to happen? The sex was good, she thought, but it wasn't worth all this! No, never!

She began to fantasize about her future – a wretched future full of rape attempts by insane guards, drug addiction, homosexual affairs with her other prisoners, and all the other horrible aspects of jail she had seen in countless movies and television shows.

Jail would be horrible! Yes, and she felt she couldn't possibly survive such an ordeal. After all, she was just a kid and a kid with a very delicate disposition, not used to living behind bars and eating only bread and water. It was no use. She wouldn't be able to survive.

How could this happen to me? she wondered. I'm a fairly good American. I never do anything to upset anyone, never steal, never incite riots! Why is this my fate?

That awful Lew? she cried to herself. He's doing this to me, yes! Just because he doesn't want to tell his wife the truth – that he seduced me, that he's the one who whipped out his cock and stuck it in me. He raped me, more or less, he can't deny it! So why am I the guilty one here?

She continued to rant about her fate while Lew and Penny privately discussed what they were going to do about her.

Finally, she noticed them and moved closer, carefully, very worried now.

"What… what are you talking about?" she asked them. "She wants to know what we're talking about," Lew said. "Can you imagine that?"

"I can imagine it. I can imagine anything from this idiot cunt! She would do anything, say anything, if it gave her some perverse thrill. That's what's wrong with you, girl, you don't know how to control your lust. You feel something and you have to feed that hunger."

"No… No, you don't know what you're talking about, you don't! It's a lie!"

"Are you calling me a liar, you stupid bitch!" exclaimed Penny.

Wendy glared sourly.

"Hm?"

"Oh, be quiet…"

"What did you say? I'm asking you a question, bitch! Answer me!"

"What? What?" asked Wendy, disgusted with all that these two were doing to her.

"I asked you if you were calling me a liar. Now answer me. Were you?"

"I…" Wendy was a little afraid of Penny, she seemed so angry, but then her sense of injustice outweighed her fear, and she shouted out: "Yes… yes! I'm calling you a liar, and your husband a liar too!"

"Did you hear that, darling? This incredible bitch is calling us both liars. Can you imagine?"

"She's too much," said Lew without much fervor. He was apparently leaving the hysterics up to his wife.

"You are both liars," Wendy screamed, repeating her message once more to make sure they understood.

"Well, you heard her that time," said Penny. "You can't say you didn't."

"Yes," said Lew, "I heard her."

"All right, then, that's settled. She said it, and I don't take an insult like that from anyone. Not from anyone. She'll have to be punished."

"Oh… well, I don't know about that dear," said Lew. "That's kind of risky…"

"Nonsense. You heard what she called us."

"Well, we can tell the courts all about it when we take her before a judge."

"No. Her insolent behavior must be met with right now."

"But darling…"

"Be quiet, Lew, this is something I must do. It isn't so much because she called me a liar, but because she called you one. That is something I just cannot allow to happen. I'm sure you understand."

"But… but…"

"Be quiet, dear. I'll settle this in my own way."

"What are you going to do?"

"Stand there and watch, darling. After all the humiliation she has put you through, I'm sure that you will enjoy this as much as I do."

"Penny… I think you should be careful. After all, I mean, she isn't our kid. You can get in trouble if you touch somebody else's kid."

"Nonsense, I tell you. Any right-thinking American parent would be glad to see me punish this awful child. I'm going to teach her a lesson good and proper."

"Well… if you say so. But I really think we ought to wait and take her to court. Those juvenile courts can be pretty stiff, you know. Long jail terms in the juvenile home. Maybe we should wait and see what kind of sentence she gets before giving her our own punishment."

"No. I have made up my mind! This girl will have to be punished for her wrongdoing, and if you don't feel up to administering that punishment, then I, as your wife, will have to do it."

"What? What are you going to do?" Lew asked nervously.

"You better not!" shouted Wendy.

Penny suddenly darted toward the thirteen-year-old girl and slapped her hard across the face. The blow stung bitterly and Wendy's cheek turned a bright crimson, both from pain and embarrassment. She thought Penny had finished hitting her when she'd caught them at it. But apparently not. Apparently, she was only just beginning.

"Come here, girl," Penny said deviously.

"No… no, I won't."

"Yes you will. Now come here, right this minute, do you hear me, bitch?"

"No! Leave me alone, leave me alone!"

"We'll leave you alone… alone in solitary confinement in that fucking juvenile home, that's when and where we'll leave you alone and not until then!"

"Ahhhhh! Help! Help! Somebody, anybody! They're going to hurt me!"

"Keep her mouth shut!" Lew cried. "You want to get the cops over here before we want them?"

Penny grabbed for the girl, catching hold of her open mouth and pulling it forward violently, ripping the skin at the sides of her mouth and making it bleed.

Penny pulled the girl forward and punched her several times with a closed fist, then she threw her knee up hard into the girl's groin.

"Ahhhhh! Shit… owwwww! Stop it, stop it," Wendy wailed. "It hurts, it hurts!"

"That's only the beginning, my lovely young husband-stealing bitch!"

She pulled the girl over toward the sofa and threw her across her knee. When the girl's naked bottom was exposed and stuck out in the air, Penny raised a hand.

"Are you watching, dear?" she asked her husband. "You'll enjoy this."

"Yes, dear, I'm watching."

"Then here we go."

"No! No!" screamed Wendy, shaking all over as she perched lewdly across the older woman's knee.

"Oh yes, my dear, you won't get away without some form of physical punishment, something you will remember so you'll think twice about doing such a terrible thing ever again in your life."

Her hand swept across Wendy's pink, jiggling fanny. Wendy's ass cheeks immediately turned a: bright red.

Penny laughed. "Did you see that, darling? Now watch, here we go again!"

And again her hand came down on Wendy's firm ass. And again, over and over. Finally, Wendy was sobbing and her ass was burning with welts. Penny pretended to rub it, her fingers dipping in between the cheeks, pressing in against Wendy's young and slightly hairy pussy. She pushed her index finger right into the hole, making Wendy squirm with surprise. She hadn't expected that so soon after getting her fanny spanked. Penny continued to finger Wendy's cunt while she smiled at her husband who was watching intently.

"Owwwwww!" Penny cried. "Oh… oh, please, won't you stop it… won't you, please!"

"Darling," said Penny, "are you enjoying yourself? Hm? You look like you enjoy watching me beat this girl's ass and poke around in her pussy!"

"Yeah… yeah," Lew muttered, his eyes riveted to her ass and the inserted fingers.

He was beginning to feel his cock go hard in his lap as he watched this sexy spectacle unfold.

Penny nodded. "Yes, I thought you would. I could see that you were enjoying it very much. Watch now, see how her fanny turns bright red when I start to spank her again. It's so cute…"

With a perverse smile, Penny resumed the spanking ritual, smacking her open hand time and again against the smooth, tender flesh of the young girl's bottom. It stung terribly now, and Wendy was crying with pain.

"Owww… owwww… ohhhhh," she whimpered.

"Does it hurt, little girl? Does it? That's too bad. You'll have to stop seducing other women's husbands, won't you, darling? Yes, I think you will. You'll have to get single boys to stick their cocks into your pretty pussy. It is a pretty pussy, and I bet it tastes real good, doesn't it, Lew?"

"Hm? Yeah, yeah… oh, I don't know. For God's sake, Penny, will you layoff?"

"Oh, of course, darling, whatever you say. I wouldn't want to embarrass you, not at all."

"Well, you are!"

"My, my, I didn't think my beloved husband had such a strong sense of shame. I thought you rather relished the thought of young girls exposing their private parts… their furry little cunts and their bright pink assholes. Come over here, darling."

"What?"

"I said, come here. I want to show you something. Come on, don't be afraid. I've got her under my control now, she won't be able to seduce you now."

He laughed nervously. "Yeah… heh heh… how about that? We've got her now, I guess."

"Come over here, dear. I want you to do something."

"What? What do you want me to do?"

"Come over here and see."

Lew came over to the couch and sat next to them. He couldn't keep his eyes out of the pink patch sticking out from between the spread cheeks of her sexy rear end. He licked his lips excitedly.

Suddenly, his wife took his hand and planted it right on Wendy's open cunt and asshole.

"How does that feel?"

"Oh Christ, Penny, what's wrong with you?"

"Massage it… massage the girl's clit. She'll love it. She likes you to feel her pussy, she really does. Go ahead. She won't mind. I've got a hold of her."

He slowly pushed in, feeling the squish of her hairy, moist flesh as his fingers journeyed inward.

He paused. He looked guiltily at his wife, who was grinning wildly at him. God, he thought, she does have a perverse sense of humor.

"Go on. Go on, dear, push your fingers in. You're not all the way inside yet, darling. I believe she has a very deep pussy for a girl her age."

"Yeah… you may be right."

"Of course I'm right. We've both had experience sizing up her coot now and we both know she has an incredibly large pussy. I mean, after all, she's only, what? thirteen years old or so. I guess my own pussy isn't much bigger than that, is it, darling?"

"I… I don't know."

"You don't know? Well, dammit, you should know, you've dipped your wick into my hole enough times to have some idea how deep I am."

"Yeah, sure, you're big enough, honey. Honest, you are. You've got a beautiful cunt."

"Do you really think so, dear?"

"Sure… sure, I think so."

"More beautiful than Wendy's here?"

"Sure. Of course."

"But hers is so fresh and clean and young. She must have been a virgin, no? I'm sure it must give you more of a kick to see this youthful cunt than my old pussy."

"No, baby, I prefer yours any time, any time, I'd have it now if you gave me the chance."

"Really?"

"Sure, baby."

"Well, that is flattering. Here you're got this teeny cunt laid out for you and you still would prefer to get a taste of Penny's old pussy."

"You know it, baby, you know it. The taste of your cunt lingers for days at a time."

"Well now, with a compliment like that I can hardly go on without giving you a taste of what you profess to like so much, can I?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

Without another word, Penny stretched her legs out under Wendy and raised up her skirts. To Wendy's and Lew's surprise, she wore no panties, only her very hairy cunt, open and drooling a thick white froth.

"Come on… come on, lick it, lick it, darling… put your tongue inside there and lick up all that juice… I'm feeling very sexy, darling… I want to feel that wet tongue of yours inside my twat!"

"Yes… all right," Lew said reluctantly.

He leaned forward and touched his tongue to his wife's pussy. He licked up and down, up and down, pushing inward and noisily sucking at the froth that lay all around the interior of her pussy, and around a good deal of the exterior, too – stuck to the thick growth of hair that surrounded her pussy. A strong gust of the smell which comes from the depths of a woman's genitals blew against his nostrils as he pushed in tight against her.

"Yes, yes, lick me… mmmm, your tongue feels so good, darling, it always does!"

"Shlurp, shlurp," went Lew's rubbery dagger as he dragged it across the length of her dripping womanhood, sucking in her spew as he tweaked her clit and massaged her labes, making her writhe orgasmically.

"Uh… uh! Uhhhhhh! Yes, yes, suck me, suck me, my darling boy… oooh, Wendy, do you know how good that feels? Do you have any idea how that feels?"

Wendy was feeling very uncomfortable. She was still perched across Penny's knees, but she was now having to endure Lew's face just below her, licking at his wife's cooze. She also had to feel the ticklish bristles of Penny's pussy hair on her own naked front. She wanted to jump off and run away, but she knew she wouldn't get far. She couldn't leave till they were ready to let her, and even then they threatened to bring her to juvenile court. She wondered if a judge could possibly believe Lew's outrageous story.

Meanwhile, she watched him suck out the pussy of Penny, move in deeper and move his tongue faster and faster.

This certainly was strange behavior, she thought to herself, as she was jiggled back and forth on Penny's shaking knees. Penny groaned with orgasm, and her legs were having trouble holding Wendy up. Finally, they collapsed, Wendy rolled off onto Lew's face, and Penny lost her perch at the edge of the sofa. All three of them tumbled to the floor.

"Ow…"

"Oohhh…"

"Ouch, get off of me, you fool, get off… ouch, your face is pushing into my cunt…"

"I can't move… I'm caught under this fucking table!" Lew groaned.

"Well knock the fucking table over – do something, you fool!"

Lew kicked over the table with his feet and it landed behind them. He slowly climbed off of his wife and Wendy and stood up.

"Shit," Penny gasped. "You hurt my pussy, you fucking fool! I think one of your teeth bit into my… my poor, tender twat… owwwww…"

Wendy crawled away from them and stood up by herself. She looked at them, rubbing their sores as they stood. She swallowed hard, wondering what other bizarre activities they had planned for her before they turned in and reported her behavior with Lew.

They were such hypocrites! she thought. Such bloody fucking hypocrites to accuse her of anything after their perverted behavior!

But there was nothing she could do about it. Not a thing in the world.

CHAPTER TWO

It was the most horrible day of her life. The juvenile judge believed the Ogdens, and although her parents objected, and said she'd always been a good girl, there was a drive going on in the city to clean up juvenile delinquency. Terrified, she listened to the gruff old man on the bench sentence her to an indeterminate term at the State Home for Girls.

"B-But I didn't do what Lew said," she protested through her tears. "I didn't!"

The judge frowned down at her, as if disturbed because she'd cut short the echo of his words through the huge, serene courtroom. "A lie," he informed her in a quavering self-righteous voice, "refusal to admit your sin and repent is far worse than the actual deed."

The accusation made her furious. She stomped her foot, and opened her mouth, ready to tell him what he could do with his black robe and dumb courtroom. But then the matron was there, had hold of her arm, and she was being dragged toward the door marked Detainees.

Oh God! she cried mentally. God! God! God! Not only had Lew torn out her cherry, her prize, but now they were taking her to a place she'd heard horrid stories about. And nothing anyone could say or do – not Mummy, not Daddy, not the teachers who'd written letters saying what a nice girl she was – was going to stop them.

The State Home for Girls was a cluster of high red brick buildings at the end of a long, barren road. But it didn't look like a prison. And the matron assured her it wasn't – she said the place was more like a live-in school, and that the girls, those who behaved and complied with the rules, causing no trouble, were usually paroled in less than a year.

"A whole year?"

The woman smiled and said it wasn't such a long time, but Wendy was certain she'd never survive that she'd be old and gray and probably crazy by the time they released her. Wide-eyed, she watched the buildings come at them as the station wagon with mesh over the windows sped down the narrow road.

Inside, the admittance building was drab and smelled of strong disinfectant. There were girls in baggy green dresses mopping the floor. Some grinned, others stared speculatively. She hurried after the matron, to a bare room with a wooden bench along one wall, where another matron told her to peel for a strip-frisk.

"Everything!" snapped the woman when she hesitated over her panties and bra.

"There's nothing but me underneath," she offered, afraid of the woman, who looked more like a man, and who was watching her with the same glint in the eye that Lew had had when he first saw her small pink titties.

Without a word, the big woman stepped forward and undid the snaps at her back. The bra fell from her arms. She blushed. She wasn't used to standing naked before prying eyes. And now she noted that some of the girls from the hall, those who had watched her come in, those who hadn't smiled, were grouped at the door.

"Now the drawers." The matron folded muscular arms over pendulous breasts. Her expression told Wendy she had five seconds to take off the panties… or have it done for her.

Chewing her lip to keep from crying, and so embarrassed she thought sure she'd die, Wendy complied. She pushed the nylon down her trim legs, stepped free of the garment. Then she stood, face burning, trembling, not knowing what to do with her hands. But despite the embarrassment, the shame of being ogled, there was an unexplainable tingle deep in her tight red pussy.

"Yummy! A carrot-top." One of the older girls at the door hungrily eyed her sex.

"I like her ass," said another. "Lookit the dimples. I'd give all the smokes in my locker to get into that one."

"Awright, knock it off," bellowed the matron. "Get the fuck away from that door before I throw you all in the hole on bread and water for thirty days." She made a threatening move toward them. The girls flew from the door. She turned back to her charge. "Bend over and spread 'em."

Wendy gaped not knowing what she meant. Her tight little cunthole was wet and in her chest and nipples, there was a tightness she'd felt only once before when Lew broke through her cherry, and began to fuck his hard cock in and out, in and out.

"Your ass cheeks," explained the matron. "Open up 'n' lemme see what you're hiding down there."

"D-Do I have to?" she squeaked, mortified.

Again the fat matron stepped forward the hot look back in her lidded brown eyes.

Oh God, no! thought Wendy, don't let her touch me again. Quickly she turned, bent with her plump rear in the air, and reached back and spread her cheeks wide.

It seemed to take a long time. She felt the breeze from the hall lick her moist slit and quivering asshole. She felt the woman's eyes, heard what she supposed was heavy breathing. Then she felt the starchy white dress the matron wore brush the back of her thighs.

Suddenly there were rough fingers probing her sex. "Ow! Ow! Don't!"

"Hold still, honey. I can't see a fucking thing with all that red curly hair you got." The matron opened the lips of her cunt, as Lew had done before fucking his long veiny dick up her belly.

Wendy gasped. Her legs grew rubbery as the fingers dug deeper and deeper, grating back and forth across her tender pink clit. Was this necessary? she wondered. Routine? Or was she special – was the matron like the girls in the hall the bull-dykes she'd heard stories about from the kids at school who knew girls who'd done time at the home? She tried not to think about what the woman was doing; tried not to like it. But the fingers knew just where to touch her to make her wiggle and moan. And by the time the fat matron was done, her sopping wet little cunt was on fire, and she wished – oh, how she wished – that Lew or someone with a stiff dick would come up behind her and fill the hot, hairy hole.

After receiving her clothing issue – two drab green dresses, baggy underclothes, and socks and state made shoes – and being assigned to a bed in the dormitory that slept fifty girls, she was given a pass and told that Doctor Bruce, the institution's psychiatrist, was waiting to see her.

"All the new girls see the doctor," explained Mrs. Hamilton, the pleasant elderly matron in charge of the dorm. "You have to be interviewed so our classification committee can set you up with an individual schooling and work program, dear. Don't be frightened."

Wendy didn't mind the gnarled hand on her bottom. It patted gently, as her daddy sometimes did when he hugged and kissed her good night. The reassurance was the first kindly word she'd heard since entering this awful place. She felt better. Perhaps Doctor Bruce would help her, she reasoned. She could imagine him shouting into a phone, telling the judge what a frightful mistake he'd made. Optimistic, thinking she'd found a friend in the gray-haired dorm matron and perhaps another in the doctor, she raced down the hall. She tried not to think about what was going to happen that night when the lights went out in the dorm, and the girls, the ones who had ogled her, saw her cute ass slip naked into the bed.

She arrived breathless at the door marked Psychiatrist, and knocked shyly. "Come," called a male voice from within. "It's open."

Doctor Bruce sat behind a desk cluttered with bulging manila folders. He eyed her over the top of steel-rimmed glasses. He watched her close the door, then motioned her into the straight-backed wooden chair at the side of the desk.

They exchanged cursory greetings, and then the doctor held up his hand for silence while he browsed through the sentence reports in her folder. She sat rigid, trying not to breathe, still unable to accept the fact that she had been committed as a juvenile delinquent. It was a mere two weeks since Lew had tricked her into the house, got her drunk, and taken what he wanted and upended her life. It was all wrong: unfair! She wanted to shout it at the top of her lungs, to scream and break things and make them listen to her. Yet she was beginning to feel a strange sense of excitement at being there. It was almost as if there were a part of her – a secret Wendy no one knew – looking forward to what was going to happen when the girls from the hall and the matron who had finger fucked her pussy, trapped her somewhere in the maze of red brick corridors, and did the things to her body that Lew had started to do.

She almost jumped straight out of the chair when Doctor Bruce cleared his throat, glancing from the folder to her, them back to the folder. "I… I didn't do what they say," she offered softly.

"Oh?" The doctor's gaze moved appraisingly down the front of her body. The tentlike dress hid most of her trim figure, but the twin points of her breasts refused to be subdued. "What exactly didn't you do?"

"I… I didn't come in while he was asleep on the sofa and… and take out his… his thing!" She looked pleadingly into his eyes. Again she felt the hot blood rush into her face. He didn't believe her – she could tell by the look, the arched brows. He was staring as the judge had stared when Lew and Penny told their version of the story, the way the boys in the movies sometimes stared at the girls who giggled while whacking them off.

Doctor Bruce adjusted his glasses and stood. He studied her a moment, then walked behind the chair and placed his bony hand on her shoulder. "Well now," he said, "suppose you tell me exactly how it did happen."

But before she could open her mouth to object or comply – she wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to tell – the doctor was helping her out of the chair, across the office, and into an anteroom equipped with a black leather couch, a padded chair, and a heavy oak door which he closed abruptly behind them. "Lie down," he directed, "Relax and tell me about it."

It was stupid! She wanted to tell him so – that she was only thirteen, too young to be crazy, and didn't need to lie down on a dumb couch where no one could see them. But now she was remembering how Lew had begun, how he lured her to the sofa, and tricked her into letting him feel her tits. "It… it was awful!" she heard herself saying, falling back on the bed-like thing in spite of herself. "I wouldn't let him at first. But he kept calling me a punk kid, and I let him feel me because he wouldn't stop saying it. Then I got dizzy because of the drink, and he unbuttoned my blouse and began to play with me there… my tits. And then he grabbed my hand and made me take his prick out of his pants." Remembering made her tight little cunthole pulse. She opened and closed her fingers, almost able to feel Lew's big stiff dick throbbing in the palm of her hand.

"Close your pretty green eyes," soothed Doctor Bruce. His hand touched her brow, and came slowly down over her lids. He moved the chair closer – so close she could feel his breath. "Was that the first time? I mean, had you ever before held a man's cock?"

"Nooo!" She squirmed under his touch, wondering why he'd asked that. He didn't have to say cock! she thought. Now, with her eyes closed and the dirty word fresh in her ears, she could see the fat fiery tip. It was there, inside her head, humping its way up her pussy. It made her tremble and moan. "I… I only let boys feel my titties," she said breathlessly. "And sometimes, if I really like someone, I let him lie on top and pretend to be doing me."

"Tell me about that," said the doctor, his hand moving to her shoulder once more. "About the last time you let a boy lie on top and dry-fuck you."

"Oh…! Don't make me," sobbed Wendy, not wanting to remember any more. Her hot little cunt was so sore! The small patch of red hair had suffered every indignity imaginable, and talking about it, the mere mention of sex, was making her hot all over.

"Did you like it when the boy came?" persisted the doctor.

"I… I don't know!"

His hand moved close to her breast. "Try to remember how it felt when he pushed it between your legs. Wendy. Was it in a car?"

"Yes. In… in the back seat after school." She chewed her lip, recalling how good it was when Larry – the boy from high school who sometimes dated Tish – made her open her legs, and pressed the bulge in his pants into the gap at her crotch. She had felt the round cockhead boring in through the material, and for a moment, when he kissed her, she had wished he'd take it out; wished he'd take off his clothes and hers, and shove it all the way up her tight little pussy. But how had Doctor Bruce known it had happened in a car?

"Keep your eyes closed!" he snapped, trying to hide the stiffness standing tall from the open fly of his pants.

Wendy gasped, and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "P-Put it away," she whispered, still seeing it, knowing now why he'd closed the door to the anteroom. Her belly grew taut. Her hot cunthole dripped, wetting the baggy white cotton panties.

"Tell me again how Lew made you take it out of his pants," breathed the doctor close to her ear.

"U-uh." She shook her head furiously. She knew now – knew what he wanted. Worse, she wasn't sure what she wanted any more. For although she knew fucking was dirty, a sin, she couldn't forget the thrill of holding a rigid cylinder of cockflesh inside her.

"Is this what he made you do?" Doctor Bruce gripped her wrist, and steered her tiny trembling hand to his long cock.

"I won't do it. I… you can't make me!" But he didn't have to make her. Her fingers, as if controlled by someone else – the other Wendy – closed tight around the hard shaft. She sobbed. It was just like Lew, throbbing against the palm of her hand, big and steely and so fat she knew it would never fit where he wanted to put it.

"Suck it!" said Doctor Bruce.

No! She was imagining this! He was a doctor, and she was only a little girl. Hadn't Daddy said she was only a baby time and time again? She had never before thought of herself as such – had always considered herself very grown-up. But she had never before been asked to take a prick into her mouth.

Hand at the back of her head, telling her to keep her eyes closed, he sat on the edge of the couch and pressed his meat to her lips. "Eat me!" he told her. "Be a good little cocksucker and I'll say something nice when you come up for parole."

Whimpering, she tried to twist her face away from his rod. But then his free hand was under the hem of her dress, lifting it high on her waist, exposing her panties. And before she could utter a cry, his fingers – just as Lew had done – were beneath the loose legband, poking into her hole.

She moaned in protest and joy. For although her mind objected, her pussy clutched at his fingers, greedily sucking them into her. Her small clit sprang up hard, and as his fingers grew wet with her cunt juice, stroking in and out, in and out, deeper each time, her thighs and mouth opened and the lovely round cock head slipped smoothly into her face.

"Ahhhhh." The doctor humped half the length of the veiny shaft in, and paused. "That's a girl. Um! Wonderful! All Doctor Bruce's nice little girls get a big lolly to suck on." He pressed the rest of the prick home, driving in until the glans pulsed at the back of her throat.

Wendy opened her eyes and stared in wonder at the root of the thing in her face. It was so big – bigger than anything! Yet there it was, jumping inside her mouth, lying firm on her tongue. And it tasted good. It tasted like Daddy after he shaved and she kissed him: hot and tangy. And it smelled of bath powder, and something… something like when she went to the bathroom and slipped and wiped shit onto her fingers. That's what it was, she decided: the stink from his asshole, stronger than hers, more manly.

The fingers deep in her pussy suddenly slipped free. She protested, gurgling loudly on his shaft. The doctor laughed. "In a moment, dear. We have to get comfortable."

As abruptly as it had entered, the cock popped out, wet from her lips. "Oh…!"

"Sit up, my sweet little cocksucker," directed the doctor. "So I can undress you."

Panting, Wendy complied. She felt the rough hands on her body, stripping the dress off over her head and tearing at the baggy undergarments. It was all so unreal. Everything since the day Lew lured her into the house and introduced her to screwing was like something she'd read in a book or seen at the movies. It couldn't be happening to her, she reasoned; she was a good girl! She'd never let anyone so much as touch her red pussy, and now…

"Magnificent!" exclaimed Doctor Bruce as the white panties slipped from her whiter thighs. He pushed her back onto the cool leather. "Another moment. Close your eyes and think about the boy in the back of the car – about how good it felt."

It was all so horrible and wonderful at the same time. She couldn't help doing, the things he suggested, couldn't stop herself. Her cunt was on fire, and her titties ached. All she could think of was cock: hot, steely man meat. Her pussy cried, Fuck me! Fuck me! Put it in! She didn't care any more about it being a sin. She didn't care any more about anything except the thing she could still taste.

She felt him climbing onto the couch, and she opened her eyes and saw the stiff prick jerking above her face. She saw his fat, hairy balls, the crack of his ass, and the wiry black stuff all over down there. She didn't understand why he was doing like that, knees wide astraddle her head, wrinkled sacs dangling, moist breath so close to the little pink sheath that burned with the need to be filled. It was a mystery until she felt his sand papery tongue between her open thighs, felt it licking her cunthole, sucking her.

"Oh! Doctor Bruce!" Her ass shot up high off the black leather. Instinctively her hands closed tight at the base of his cock. It came down, the bloated purple-red tip parting her lips once more.

"Suck it good," groaned the doctor into her cunt. His tongue coaxed her, lashing from the hole low in the warm valley between the halves of her bottom up to her vulva. He flicked the wet dart at her clit, then stuck it in. His hands cupped her cheeks, spreading the crack, opening front and rear holes for his lapping.

Drawing his prick into her face, Wendy sucked. She sucked noisily, listening to herself and thinking it did indeed sound like a little girl sucking a lolly-like Doctor Bruce said. She swirled her tongue over and around the pulsing glans, against the cute aperture. It made her dizzy, drunk as on the day Lew first did the magic things to her pussy. It wasn't the liquor, she now realized. It was cock! Stiff man meat! Dick – any dick – made her high and giddy and unable to control the little red curly wedge the doctor was tonguing.

"Ah! Ohhhh!" The shaft in her mouth began to stoke in and out. A finger twisted up her tight asshole. "Suck harder!" demanded the doctor. "I – oh, baby! Sweet cocksucking baby!"

Wendy knew how he felt. She felt it too: the electric tingle spreading through her lower abdomen, and her sex. She sucked harder, as hard as she could, spittle dripping down her chin as he fucked the stiffness faster and faster in and out of her mouth. She was somewhere in outer space, riding a shooting star into unexplored territory. Her clit strained for the gentle flicks of his tongue. The brown velvet pocket between the cheeks of her ass breathed on his dipping finger. Her hips bucked like a belly dancer's, and her white, dimpled behind was churning round and round, faster and faster. She was grinding her pussy, her sopping wet cunthole, into the doctor's whiskery face. It was making her gasp with the thrill of being a woman.

"Do it!" she cried around his cock. "Oh, please do it to me!"

Opening his mouth wide at her cunthole, the doctor blew into her belly. She thrashed, moaning and blubbering incoherently around the thing using her face. She cupped his nuts, tentatively moved her finger into the hot crack of his ass. His sphincter opened. Driving her finger into his rectum, she pumped her hips high, then higher still, reaching for the orgasm Penny Ogden had snatched away when she walked into the living room and made Lew stop fucking his wonderful, big prick up her virgin cunthole.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ahhhhhh!" Slamming his cock in to the hilt, mashing his balls in her face, Doctor Bruce's fingers became steel claws tearing at the tender flesh along the inside of her thighs.

Wendy gagged, unable to breathe; he was smothering her. She could feel the fat cock head in her throat, cutting off her air. She tried to push him away. Where a moment before she'd felt nothing but pleasure, she now forgot the exquisite sensations coursing through her young loins. She tried to twist out from beneath the huge, hairy bulk humping and fucking so furiously. She thought for sure his prick was going to burrow through the back of her skull. She tried to cry out, but the rod in her mouth was too big; too swollen, too hard. And as she gurgled, trying to suck in air but doing no more than draw on the slick glans, the thing started to spit. Hot goo began to spurt out into her gullet.

"Suck it! Suck it! S-Suck it all out!" He pulled back, and then drove the prick in further. He pulled back again, slipping free and pissing cum in her eyes, and up her nose. He allowed what seemed to Wendy like a tenth of a second before the monster slid again into her face.

Then she was cuming too: overwhelmed, afraid, not knowing what she felt any more. She was gulping his cream, and cooing and sobbing and laughing. Her clit, the magic thing in her tight cunthole, was singing like the strings of a sweet violin. She was lost, confused, torn between right and wrong: the pain, the pleasure, the fear. It wasn't at all like they said in the books. This was violent, uncontrollable lust: a thing which took possession of her and refused to let go.

Yet she continued to suck. Willingly! Greedily! She drank the thick, salty cream, kneading his balls and fingering his asshole. She threw her cunt up into his face and moved her hips frantically, wanting the thrill of orgasm to last forever and ever.

And it seemed to, the glorious sensations rippling through her, boiling, bubbling, quivering with sensation. She couldn't believe, with her small experience with sex, that it could really feel so wonderful. Of course, she had heard all the rumors and even read a few things about how intense an orgasm could be, but she didn't realize it could get this strong without even fucking.

She was coming right now, more with the sexual atmosphere and the taste of sex in her mouth. It was a wonderful taste, one she could never tire of, no matter how degrading the circumstances of her sexual encounters. And if her experience so far was any indication, those encounters could well prove to be very degrading.

He continued to come, and she sucked it down with wild passion, every last drop, not wanting a single bit to fall to the ground. She wanted it all!

"Oooooh, that's good," he moaned. "That's so good, baby, so very good… mmmmmmm! Yeah, you know what you're doing. For a chick of your tender years, you make out pretty fucking well. You suck that dick of mine like you've been sucking them for years and years."

She tried not to hear him, but continued on with her oral maneuvering, up and down on the stiff pole, up and down, forcing his spew up into her mouth.

"Oooohh, yeah, yeah, swallow it… swallow it all down, you dirty bitch… mmmmm! Do it! Suck my fucking cock, you beautiful cunt!"

His ranting screams were, unnecessary, in truth. She was going to suck him dry no matter what he screamed. In fact, if he had tried to push her away from his ejaculating cock at that moment he would have had a very serious fight on his hands. She was there to stay, for as long as his cock stayed hard and continued to drool that delicious metallic fluid that she was sucking in by the pint.

"Ohhhh… ohhh, too much, too much… you're fantastic, you dirty cunt… I love it. I just love it. You do things to me, sister. I don't think I should let you out of my sight, as a matter of fact. I should have you on twenty-four hour call. Never know when I might need to examine you again, hey? Have you got any objections to that, my dear?"

The cock was beginning to go soft. She raised up off of it and stared at him in exhaustion. She stuck her tongue out and licked up all the residual come that hung to her lips and chin and hung off of her nose.

"Tasted good, did it?"

"Yes… yes it did," she said sullenly, finding it impossible to deny the obvious.

CHAPTER THREE

She was different, thought Sam as he watched Wendy step from the administration building and walk toward the car. Her breasts and hips were fuller, and her ass – God! He saw only a glimpse as she turned to wave goodbye, but there was enough back there to make almost two of the one he'd watched being led from the juvenile courtroom. And there was something more, something in the way she moved that suggested the little girl, his daughter, was gone, left behind with the year she'd spent within the red brick walls.

Leaning across the front seat, he opened the door. "Hi baby," he said.

"Daddy." The miniskirt rode high as she slipped onto the leather of the car seat. She met his gaze and smiled.

Sam had to shake himself loose from the bold green eyes; had to remind himself that the girl with the long, creamy legs and big tits – tits that rose and fell teasingly beneath the tight red dress – was the same child he used to tell bedtime stories to. He searched his mind for something to say, but he could think of nothing.

Wendy laughed, a throaty, provocative woman sound. She turned sideways, bringing one knee up, displaying the tops of her stockings, garter clasps, and panties. She cocked her head, and asked, "Aren't you glad to see me?"

"Of course I'm glad." The guilt he'd felt every weekend when Cynthia talked him out of visiting, saying that the girl had to be taught a lesson, now returned. "I… I would've come up every week, but you know your mother. She's even worse now. I couldn't even get her to come along today." He tried not to look at the place Wendy was doing her damndest to show, but his gaze drifted. And at the legband of the black panties, curling out along her smooth inner thigh, he saw hair so red and appealing that his cock stirred. "Did you, ah… do you have any luggage?" he added, needing something to say.

"Uh-uh. I gave it all away." She pointed back over her shoulder, to where a group of girls were clustered at a dorm window.

He reached for the ignition key, wanting to get away from the place. It made him uneasy; it made him remember Lew Ogden and why Wendy had been sent there.

"Kiss me hello first, Daddy." Before he could start the car, she moved close, almost in his lap. "I missed you so." She wrapped her small arms tightly around his neck, and offered him her moist, pink lips.

Sam tried to back away from the sweet mouth clinging to his, but Wendy held fast. He felt her firm breasts digging into his chest; felt the warmth of one nylon-clad thigh against his. She had indeed changed; she had become a small, lovely temptress. He'd always doubted the story Lew Ogden had told; he thought he knew Wendy better than most parents know their children. But now he wasn't sure. He was sure only that what he was thinking, the suggestions the heated kiss formed in his mind, had no place in a father-daughter relationship.

"Hey Wendy," called a girl from the dorm. "Gimme some of that, will ya?"

"Yeah!" shouted another. "I'll bet he's got one a foot long inside those pants."

Blanching, Sam pushed his daughter roughly away. "Don't pay them any mind, Daddy," she cooed. "They're just jealous because you're mine."

Sam gaped. What was she saying? Hers? Hers in what way? He wanted to slap her, to beat her, to make her stop acting as if he were her lover instead of her father. Angry with himself for having a hardon, and with her for changing, for growing up, for being a woman with red hair on her pussy at fourteen – he turned the ignition key, released the brake, and slammed the gas pedal to the floor.

From the corner of his eye he saw the hem of her dress hitch up as she turned in the seat to wave to the girls in the dorm. Or had she turned to show him the twin halves of her ass? Whichever, he stared longingly at the plump melons, thinking how, lovely they were, how white beneath the semi-transparent black panties.

He paced, wondering where she could be at one in the morning, what she was doing. The rules of parole included a 10:00 p.m. curfew, and already, on her first night home, she was jeopardizing her freedom. He thought back to the scene in the car, and how brazen she was. He could still see the red hair at her crotch, feel her tits, the nipples like hard little spikes digging into his chest. He thought back even further, to the first time he saw her naked in the shower before she was sent to the home. He recalled how the blood leaped into her face, how she gasped, "Don't look at me, Daddy. Don't!" Now he was willing to bet a year's pay she'd open her legs and spread the lips of her cunt if he caught her that way.

He paused in his tour of the living room to look in on Cynthia. She was asleep on her side, her nightgown pulled tight across her round ass. He groaned. It was a good ass; the kind of an ass that could keep a man's dick hard for hours. He wanted it now. But it was Wednesday, two days from Friday – the one night a week she opened her legs for him.

Outside a car screeched up to the curb. He strode to the front window, and squinted into the dark at the two figures huddled behind the wheel. She was a hot little bitch, he thought, watching the girl kiss her date as she'd kissed him at the home the morning before. Where were the boy's hands? he wondered. Under her dress? Was he, at that very moment, twisting a finger up her hot, red pussy? Or was he kneading her tits, coaxing the pink nipples hard, planning to fuck her right there in front of the house?

The mere thought of a boy – any boy – parting those lovely red curls with a stiff cock, holding the tender globes of her ass while they screwed, made him furious. He moved to the door, threw it open, and shouted her name. His breath came in gasps, and the muscles went taut in his arms. He waited for her to emerge from the car, and say good night. Then he called her again, ordering her into the house.

The sound of the door closing came with the crack of his open hand against the side of her face. She gaped at him. "What were you doing out there?" he demanded.

"Nothing. I… I…"

Again he slapped her, harder. He could see what they'd been up to: her long red hair was mussed, and there was a smear of ground-in dirt on the wrinkled material over her jutting left breast. "Fucking whore!" he heard himself growl. "Cockteasing bitch! I'll teach you to screw. I'll…"

Suddenly the girl was in his arms, sobbing, holding tight to him. "Don't hurt me any more, Daddy," she whispered. "I-I can't help it. I can't! I… I have to have sex, have to fuck. I can't stand being near a hard dick without having it in me."

"My God!" Sam felt her small, round belly pressing against him, felt her tits, her thighs. It was insane: he wanted to choke her to stop the words, and stop her warm body from doing the things a daughter had no business doing with her father. But now his prick was hard, the glans throbbing at the tip between her trim legs. And her sobbing, her helplessness, was making him forget who she was.

"They… they did the most awful things to me at the home," whispered Wendy. She raised up on tiptoe, moist lips kissing his neck as she spoke. Her hips began to move in a slow, maddening circle. "Doctor Bruce, the matrons, the older girls, everyone," she continued. "They… they fucked me every which way, Daddy. I didn't want to. I didn't! But it was just like with Lew. They were stronger than me, and they hurt me sometimes, and you and Mummy never came up, and…" Her voice broke. The tears poured hot down her cheeks onto his neck and shoulders.

Sam glanced past her, to the dark open door of the master bedroom. He could see Cynthia – her white nightgown was a billowy blur against the turned down blanket. It was Cynthia who had kept him from visiting Wendy, and she who had given him the hardon before turning away for the night. The whole thing was her fault: he couldn't blame the tiny warm thing in his arms, so soft and vulnerable. Nor could he resist the red pussy – he had only to close his eyes to see the springy curls pressing, pressing, pressing so insistently into the knob of his bloated cock. "Don't cry, honey," he said, chest tight, hands moving to her tiny waist, then lower, molding the mini dress to her firm buttocks. "Tell Daddy about it, sweetheart. Tell me what they did to you at the awful place."

Wendy's lips touched his ear. The cheeks of her ass quivered in the palms of his hands. "Not here, Daddy," she cooed. "In… in my bedroom. First let me get pretty for you."

She could barely breathe. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as she stripped, and went to the dresser to don the sexy black negligee she'd bought that afternoon – especially for her handsome daddy! She wanted him so; it was what she had dreamt about every night after the girls at the home had introduced her to all the variations of lesbianism, and what she'd fantasized on each time Doctor Bruce stuck his fat dick up into her belly. Her daddy! She had long since stopped telling herself it was wrong.

Using the perfume she'd snitched from the endless supply on the dresser in the master bedroom, she sweetened the smell of her pussy, sprinkled some on her breasts, too. Her nipples stood rigid, and she shivered at the thought of the tall, well-built man waiting in the living room, waiting for her to call to say she was ready to take his big prick up her tiny wet cunthole, perhaps in the ass, anywhere he wanted to put it.

Slipping the gauze on over her head, she shook out her hair and eyed the result in the mirror. The hem of the lace nightie barely covered the cute wedge of cunt hair between her anxious thighs. The soft light from the lamp on the bedside table outlined her figure. Everything showed, but just enough to make a man want to see more.

Turning, she paused to stare speculatively at the wind-up belly dancer on the nightstand. She remembered the first time with Doctor Bruce, and how she'd thought of the toy. "You watch me go now," she told it. "Just watch my hips dance when Daddy puts his hard dick up…" her fingers went beneath the hem of the new garment, to the mouth of her pussy, "up there!"

Sam gulped his third drink, welcoming the warmth at the pit of his belly, the fuzz in his head. It was madness! He was waiting, actually waiting for his own little girl to say she was ready to screw. "I should break her sweet fucking neck!" he growled, slamming the glass down, nervously pouring another drink. "I should put my belt to her ass and stop this whole fucking thing, before…"

"Daddy…?"

He turned to find the girl standing near-naked at her open bedroom door. No! a voice inside his spinning head shouted. He gulped the fourth drink – wanting her, not wanting her, the liquor distorting the painful knowledge of who she was. His dick pulsed, thrusting the front of his pants out farther than he had ever bulged before. His nuts grew as taut as the twin peaks showing through the flimsy veil-like thing she wore.

"Better close Mummy's door," said Wendy in a voice so low he had to strain to hear. "Hurry up, Daddy. Hurry!" She disappeared into the dimly-lit room.

As if in a trance, the four drinks clouding his mind, Sam moved to the door of the master bedroom… Cynthia had turned onto her belly, and the nightgown was bunched high on her thighs. From the door opposite the foot of the bed he could see the fleshy underside of her ass, the dark crack, and the black hair where her loose cunt was hidden. Would Wendy's pussy be loose or tight? he wondered. He knew he should feel indignation – no, murderous rage – because of what was done to the girl at the home. He could imagine the older girls taking advantage of her: two holding her legs wide apart, two more holding her arms, and another – one with a warped mind and a clit like a miniature hardon – bull-dyking her pussy. And the doctor – hadn't Wendy mentioned a doctor? He could imagine a gray-headed old man one who couldn't get laid on the outside, taking the post at the institution for the sole purpose of ripping off lovely young girls like his Wendy.

"Wendy," he groaned, unconsciously rubbing the front of his pants, excited instead of enraged. "Sweet baby, Wendy."

His gaze swept across the gleaming contours of Cynthia's ass, his cock jerking. It was a good ass, true. But there was another – a more succulent, softer and whiter bottom – waiting to relieve his stiff cock mere footsteps away. Quickly he closed the door and strode to his daughter's room.

She was sitting at the edge of the bed, watching the toy belly dancer he'd given her ten years before on her birthday. She saw him. For a moment they stared, gazes locking, communicating with their eyes. Then she raised one adorable leg, slowly and provocatively, inch by inch spreading her thighs to show the red hair on her little-girl pussy. Her gaze dropped to the front of his pants. "Fuck me, Daddy," she cooed, raising her arms to him. "The boy tonight – he didn't do anything except feel. I'm so hot. I… lookit the bulge in your pants! It's so big… Stick it up me, Daddy. Please. Fuck it up my belly."

It was as if he'd been hit across the back of the head with a 2 by 4. The rage came. Forgetting the ache at his crotch, the stiffness of his prick, he undid his belt buckled and whipped the belt from his waist. "I'm your father!" he snapped in a voice full of gravel. "Goddamn you, Wendy, don't you know I'm your own fucking FATHER?"

Her green eyes almost popped from their sockets as he took hold of her hair, threw her down on the mattress, the skimpy negligee askew, and lashed out with the belt.

"Oh! Oh Daddy, no, no!" Wendy tried to escape by crawling across the rumpled bedding. The leather smacked her bare bottom. "Ow, ow! Oh my God, Daddy, no more! No more please, Daddy – I'll be good, I promise!"

Again and again he brought the belt down, ignoring her entreaties, until sweat poured from his brow, and Wendy lay curled and whimpering – a small, frightened child. Her ass was bright pink, and the stiffness in his pants leg overruled conscience. He fell to the bed, hands moving… hungrily over the welted halves of her burning behind.

"Daddy. Oh, put it in. P-Put it all the way up me." She reached back to take firm hold of the mighty shaft at his crotch.

Sam stopped her from rolling onto her back. He didn't want her that way; he didn't want to have to look in her eyes, to be reminded of who she was. "Stay on your belly," he ordered, fingers deep in the hot crack of her ass. "I wanna fuck you in back, up your asshole."

"Anything, Daddy. Only do it. Quick!" Her asshole opened and closed on his long middle finger, the tightness sucking him in. Her thighs shot wide apart, and small, anxious fingers undid his fly.

"Oh Christ! Christ-fucking Jesus and Mary!" Sam humped his meat into her hand, afraid he'd pop off before he was sheathed in her, but unable to resist the tiny, expert fingers. And her rear hole! God, God, her sweet little-girl asshole! It was the tightest, the hottest, the best – an adorably fuckable hole he didn't think he'd ever be able to get his huge cock into.

Wendy yelped in protest when the dart popped from her ass. He quickly covered the fragrant brown hole with his mouth. She squealed, and he blew into it, making her squirm and moan. Drinking the smell into his nostrils, he spread her pink cunt lips and watched both holes quiver. The hand on his rod began to jerk faster, faster and faster, until the cream began to inch up from his balls and he stopped her. She whispered to him: Daddy! Daddy! She opened her legs even wider, raising up off the bed, her buttocks split delightfully down the middle.

He was mildly drunk from the liquor, but more so with the sight of her. He didn't care any more that the succulent ass belonged to his daughter, and that if he were caught, if Cynthia awoke and found them together, what he was about to do could land him in jail. He didn't care about conscience or morals, or about incest. Now he cared only about the brown hole – the pleasure others had taken from the tight, winking anus waiting to open and close like a clam on his cock.

"Daddy please!" Wendy reached back to spread the tender halves of her bottom.

"Easy, baby, sweetheart." He stood, tore the pants and shorts from his legs, and threw off his shirt. For a moment more he stared down at the twin silky mounds, savoring the whiteness, the welts, the dimples in each cheek. The tuft of red hair at the winking target made him groan. He squeezed the tip of his cock, anticipating, prolonging the thrill of first penetration. She was perfection, his Wendy: lovely beyond belief, young, wild and willing. He fell hungrily upon her.

"Daddy, oh Daddy!!" She strained to accommodate the fat cockhead boring into her pinched asshole.

"Um. Tell me about what they did to you at the home, honey. About the fucking. Tell me while… sh! Ahhhh!" The knob of his rod slipped slowly in past her sphincter. "Jesus, baby, you're good. So fucking good. Tell… sh! Ummmmmmmmmm! Tell Daddy everything while we screw."

Greedily she pressed back. "D-Don't make me tell now, Daddy. Do me back there first."

"Now!" Lifting the negligee high on her back, he reached around and under to take hold of her tits. Cruelly he kneaded them.

"Oh. OH! You… you're hurting me, Daddy."

"Then tell me!" he insisted, making her whimper. The small deep-throated sounds spurred him on. He used his fingernails on her pert nipples. He wanted to hear to know everything.

"D-D-Doctor Bruce first," the girl gasped. "The first day I was there. The… ok!" She tried to squirm away from the talons cutting into her breasts. "Don't hurt me any more, Daddy. I… I love you so."

Burying his face in the girl's long, fresh-smelling hair, he bit her earlobe. He let his dick bask at the entrance to her hot rectum. He closed his eyes, envisioning another stiff rod, the doctor's long, veiny prick, grinding into her round belly. This wasn't his Wendy, his daughter. This was a warm, faceless body he could abuse without qualms. "Did he fuck you?" he grunted, embedding another hard inch in her asshole. "The doctor? Did he cum in your cunthole?"

Despite the protests, the moans, the objections, she wiggled for more meat up her hole. "He… first he made me suck him," she said, her hips gyrating faster than the toy belly dancer winding out on the nightstand. "Then he did me… over the edge of the couch. He… he made me kneel with my head on the leather, and came up behind. Just like you're doing now, Daddy. Only in front. He… he put his big veiny thing up me…" she guided one hand from her breasts to her wet pussy, "up there! All… oh! All the way up me! I… I thought it would never go. Never! I told him to stop, but he kept saying I'd better be nice to him or I'd never go home, and I didn't care that it hurt something awful. I… I helped him, three times a week after that. Until it got so I didn't really mind any more. Until… oh! Oh Daddy, push it all the way in." She pressed back so hard that she farted: a muted sound, subdued by the awesome length of his giant prick plowing home.

"Baby! Sugar! Sweetheart!" Sam could almost see the old horny doctor. Inside his head, there was a man with a stethoscope fucking a dick up the protesting girl, driving meat into her twat, just as he was driving it up her tight little asshole. He fingered her vulva, moving his palm round and round on the tight, springy curls. He grunted into her ear with each lunge, until his coarse cockhair was flush with the cheeks of her bottom. Then he sighed, soaking in her sweet warmth.

Wendy looked back at him with heavy, lidded green eyes, "You're bigger than Doctor Bruce, Daddy. You're even bigger than the Coke bottles we used."

Sam blinked. "What Coke bottles?"

"Um!" She moved her small ass slowly from side to side, caressing the glans of his joint with the feathery muscles deep in her rectum. "That's what the girls use. Bottles and broomsticks. And sometimes, whenever the matrons forget to chop them up, bananas and hot dogs from the mess hall."

"Jesus H. Fucking Christ!" He was at once appalled and fascinated. He turned onto his side, taking her with him. "Bottles and broomsticks and…?"

She nodded, chewing her lip. Her eyes glazed over as if she were remembering, as if he were one of the girls, fucking an ersatz member up her rear hole. "They… they did all sorts of strange things," she continued, barely above a whisper. "One girl, the blonde who called from the window, used to turn the bed upside down and sit and fuck on the leg. But the worst was Crazy Inez." Her asshole tightened. She stared wide-eyed back at him.

What in the world could it be? wondered Sam. What was left? He thought he knew everything there was to know about screwing, but this…? Hugging her close, three fingers deep in her pussy and the other hand kneading her tits, he prompted her answer by expanding and contracting the stiff prick inside her.

"She… oh Daddy, they caught her out on the farm with one of the pigs. She was sucking him off."

"A p-pig?"

"It was only a little pig, though. Plus she had him tied down." She stared a moment more, then grinned and then giggled. "Oink-oink!" she added.

Sam couldn't help but love her. Even though what they were doing was wrong – sinful by every civilized standard – she was so tiny and sweet, her girlish innocence intact despite what she'd been through. There was a wanton flame in her emerald eyes, and yet she was new and virginal still, a delightful woman-child. He kissed her neck, and her flushed and sweating face. "Did they fuck a bottle up here?" he asked, pulling back and slamming it to her again.

"A m-mop handle!" she gasped, setting her ass in motion once more. "A long one, Daddy. Long and fat. Like… just like yours."

Sam groaned into her moist, pink mouth. He tongue-kissed her, mashing her lips so cruelly she cried out. But it was a pleasure sound, a demand. The time for talking was past – it was time to screw. He told her so by withdrawing until his rod almost popped from its sheath, and then reaming back with such force the bed shook.

Wendy complied with the silent command. She threw herself back into his lunges, hips churning, buttocks grinding together. Her wet cunthole nipped at his fingers. He was hurting her, he knew, fucking into her rectum with all the strength in his loins. Yet the muffled noises she made were sounds of delight. And the harder he stroked and pinched her nipples, and taunted her clit, the more willingly she met his forward lunges. It was almost as if she enjoyed being abused, used. Almost as if the time she'd spent at the home, the things Doctor Bruce and the others had done to her, had conditioned her compliant young body to accept pain.

Suddenly the room became a top spinning off into orbit. The velvety pocket of her asshole clutched his joint doing things no fourteen-year-old asshole should know how to do, and reached down into his lower abdomen to yank the cum from his sacs. He tried to pull back for one final lunge, but she held him in her. Inside, at the top of her little-girl rectum greedy fingers seemed to close tight. Invisible mouths as sweet as the one he was sucking, rained fiery kisses over the swollen glans of his rod, coaxing cum, milking him, demanding gob after gob after gob.

Sam squeezed her so tight he was afraid something might break. But he couldn't stop. His prick went on spitting, spurt after spurt leaping up from his balls. It was so good he didn't care if it went on forever, depleting him, making him waste away. His cream filled her bowels, and began to seep down and out. It grew thick in his cockhair, saturating her pussy. It dripped down the back of her thighs onto the sheet. Yet her buttocks, her magnificent little-girl ass, refused to relinquish the prize of his prick.

Finally, when he thought his lungs would never again be allowed to suck air, the tightness went slack, freeing him to pull out. But now the cunthole biting his fingers began to spew juice into the palm of his hand.

"Do it, Daddy," Wendy moaned wetly into his mouth. "Oh, do it! Do it!"

He was helpless, lost. She was too good, he realized, slipping the cylinder of his cock from between her quivering buttocks, withdrawing his fingers. She was so good he didn't have to tell her to take hold of his cock, and set the round, slimy knob at her cunthole.

"Don't stop, Daddy," she breathed against his lips. "Come in in front too. Fuck my pussy."

There was no way to stop, even if he had wanted to. Already her pussy was sucking him in, pulling his cock high up into her belly. He felt the red curls part, tickling his shaft; he felt the slippery walls, of her upper vagina open as he advanced, and knew that Wendy, his little Wendy, had learned more than was good for her in the year since Lew and Penny Ogden had gotten her sent away.

"That's it, Daddy, oh yes, that's the way, stick that big, wet stick of yours deep inside your daughter's pussy… mmmm, right up to my womb!"

"I'll try… God, I don't know how I can let myself do this to you, my baby, but at the same time I don't know how I can stop myself…"

"That's right… that's right, little Wendy's pussy is too much to resist… too much!"

"Oh Christ, it is! It is! I can't resist… I've got to fuck you again, Goddammit!"

"Do it to me, do it to me! Fuck me good and proper, Daddy dear! Stab me with your beautiful, big, hard, wet, gorgeous stick! All the way now! All the way! Ahhhhhh! Do it, do it, in, tight, hard!"

He forced his prick into her cunt, against the sticky obstruction of her cunt walls, in, deeper and deeper, with a liquid accompaniment, the sound of his juice and her sticky love nectar.

"That's the way, Daddy, right inside… all the way, to the hilt!" He slammed inward, right up to the base of his prick, filling her cunt with his organ. Then he began to pump, back and forth, in and out.

"Yes, yes," she whimpered. "Faster, faster! Oh, do it! Fuck me, fuck me! Ohhhhhh!"

"Shut up, you crazy, sex fiend! You bitch! I don't know how I could let myself do this… it's so degrading! It is, it is!"

"Oh, be quiet, you old fool! You know you love every fucking minute of it! You know it!"

"Yes… yes," he whimpered. "I do… it's terrible, it's ugly, but I do! I do!"

He whipped his prick back out to the head and then stayed poised there for one long, ecstatic moment, till they were both writhing maniacally. And then he let out the breath he was holding and took another one. Then it was time to go back inside, and go he did, slamming every rigid inch back through the portals of her pussy, in, tight and hard, so hard that they both gasped from the exertion.

In and out, back and forth, it went on till his cock gave its expected burst of cream, deep inside her, flowing out and over their heated loins.

CHAPTER FOUR

Wendy awoke to the sound of the front door slamming. A moment later she heard the family car purr, and crunch gravel as it rolled slowly down the drive. Daddy – her wonderful big, handsome, strong Daddy – was going to work. She stretched luxuriating in the heat of the sun coming through the blinds on the window, and thinking how nice it was to sleep late.

What were the girls at the home doing now? she wondered. No doubt some were mopping the floors others cleaning the filthy toilets and rec' room. But there were still others, those like Crazy Inez, who'd be waiting for the new shipment to arrive, waiting to see the new girls peel for the degrading strip-frisk.

"Wendy…?" Mummy appeared at the door in her underwear. She scowled. "I don't know what they taught you at that home, young lady, but you don't stay in bed all day in this house. Just look at yourself."

She looked down at her body. There was nothing so terribly wrong – except she was naked. "Is… is there something you want me to do?"

"Ha! You better believe there's something I want you to do!" Hands on hips, feet wide apart and black pussy showing through her white panties, Mummy continued to scowl. "First you can put some clothes on your butt – lying around like that! Have you no shame?"

Stop being so mean! she wanted to holler; you're always picking on me! But she had never been able to talk back to her mummy. It was one of the reasons the Ogdens had found it so easy to have her sent to the home. Once Mummy had taken their side, believing the terrible lies Lew told, it was almost impossible to get in a word edgewise.

Stifling a sob that was part anger and part childish regret, she eyed the woman from whose womb she'd come. They had never gotten along. Ever since the first drop of blood had seeped from her pussy, changing her overnight from baby Wendy into a woman, Mummy had treated her horribly – almost as if she were jealous. She didn't know why it should be, but everyone seemed to be envious of her sweet little body.

"Well?" Impatiently Mummy tapped her bare foot.

"I… I'm coming," she whispered, hitching the sheets up and over her belly, to her breasts.

"Don't take all day about it. Because after you're dressed you're gonna clean this house from top to bottom. In case you've forgotten, everyone here does their share."

Bitch! You're worse than Crazy Inez! thought Wendy as her mother turned from the door. Yet she found herself thinking what a nice big ass Mummy had, speculating on how good it could go with Daddy on top, or a broomstick, mop handle or Coke bottle shoved up one of her holes.

By lunchtime every muscle in her small body ached. But no sooner had she sat down to rest than Mummy appeared, and shot her a critical look that said, Get your ass off that sofa! And when her belly began to growl, protesting over a breakfast of orange juice, driving her to the kitchen to make a sandwich the horrid creature appeared to watch and give new orders while she ate.

Finally, all the floors mopped and waxed, the furniture dusted and Wendy as limp as the dust rag, she went to her room to strip before taking a shower. But she had no sooner stepped out of the dirty jeans then Mummy was there. "You're not done!" she snapped, breathing as if it were she who'd done all the work.

"Oh…!" Wendy stomped her small foot. She was furious, madder than she'd ever been in her life. "You… you're just a mean, dried-up whore, and you hate me because I'm prettier and younger than you."

Immediately the words were out of her mouth she was sorry. She watched her mother's face go from stern to ugly, and knew she was in for it. Her heart raced. Her nipples grew hard in anticipation of the beating she was certain was coming. She didn't know why the prospect excited her. She knew only that Mummy was staring at her in the same way the matrons had stared before ordering the switch to discipline naughty girls. "I… I didn't do anything for you to holler at me," she added, in a small, frightened voice.

Before she could throw up her hands to cover her face, Mummy was across the room and on her, slapping, pulling her hair. She tasted blood at the comer of her mouth, and felt blows that stung like the lash of the belt the night before. She staggered back, stumbling until her legs met the foot of the bed, tripping her onto the mattress.

"Call me a dried-up whore, will you?" A knee shot between her legs, hurting her pussy and knocking the breath from her lungs…

Wendy tried to fight back, to push the woman, who was bigger and stronger, away. It was like trying to struggle out from under the horny girls at the home: too much like it! She suddenly realized that Mummy's crotch was tight against hers, rubbing the pain of the kick away. And her hands! Her hands were crushing her titties, holding her down.

"You let me go," she cried, pumping her nylon-clad hips up into the pedal pushers, hating her mother but loving the friction caused by the rough material grinding against her wet panties. "You… you lesbian!"

The straining body above her went rigid. The color drained from her mother's face. "I… I'm not."

"You are too," Wendy yelled, recalling the fake wrestling matches at the home, where the bull-dykes tricked the new girls into giving up pussy. She recalled too how Mummy used to enjoy spanking her ass; how she used to lift the dress high, yank off the panties, and smack and smack and smack… but not too hard, making it last. "That's why you wouldn't let Daddy visit me at the home," she continued. "You… you're a dumb old bull-dyke! A queer! And that's why Daddy's always got a hardon!"

She didn't care that the truth enraged Mummy: she welcomed the sting of the hand that whipped back and forth across her face. She was used to being beat up by the older girls at the home, those who took what they wanted. And now she was boss – she could see it in the tearful blue eyes above her. The deep lines in the brow of the attractive face, the features so like her own; said she'd won no matter how much Mummy protested. She used the knowledge as she'd done to get her way with the matrons and Doctor Bruce.

"Mummy don't!" she gasped, pressing hard against the pussy bruising her crotch. "My… my panties are coming off. Don't look. Don't!"

As anticipated, the blue eyes widened and swept down the length of her arched body. The struggle had worked the nylon low on her waist, exposing the silky red curls below her cute belly-button. She watched her mother's expression change, and felt the wide hips between her wide-spread thighs begin a slow, sensuous grind. "You can do it to me if you want," she whispered, tiny fingers searching for the zipper at the seat of the pedal pushers. "We… we can fuck like the girls did me at the home."

"No! I… d-don't talk to Mummy like that."

Wendy fucked her behind round and round off the bed. Opening her pants, she splayed her hands over the huge, trembling buttocks. "I know you want to. I bet you wanted to even before I went away."

"You mustn't. We… I…"

"Shhhhhh…!" It was as if she were the parent, and Mummy, her face all squinched up with shame and desire, were her little girl. But there was nothing little about the soft halves of her bottom. They were like cotton basketballs covered with satin. She found the waistband of the panties, and watched Mummy's mouth drop open as she traced the deep crack.

"Wendy! Wendy! Wendy!" The wide hips bucked uncontrollably when Wendy's slender finger burrowed through hair and sphincter, into her mother's asshole.

"Bull-dyke me, Mummy. Take off your clothes 'n' rub your clit against mine. Hurry, Mummy."

"Don't! Don't call me that."

"What?"

"Mummy! I… call me Cynthia."

She supposed the request had something to do with Mummy feeling guilty about wanting to screw: grown-ups were dumb that way. She'd experienced almost the same thing late one night when nice old Mrs. Hamilton sneaked into her bed naked, and made her hush up when she said "matron". But names weren't important: she knew Mummy was Mummy, no matter what she liked to be called. And the new named was pretty – Cindy! She said it, breaking the syllables, making it sweet. She pushed the pants and panties down the full thighs, clutched her mother's fat ass, and humped and humped her red pussy up off the bed.

"Babylove. Um! Ummm! Ummm!" Cynthia stopped pretending when their pubic hair met. Her hands moved to the girl's waist, then lower down, cupping the small, tender buttocks. Cunt to cunt, she closed her eyes and rubbed.

Wendy too closed her eyes, thinking back to the very first time she'd felt kinky girl-hair down there. It was on the day she arrived at the home, late that same night, while she lay shivering and trying to forget what Doctor Bruce had done to her mouth and belly. She recalled the way the bed shifted as Crazy Inez and four others surrounded her. She felt Mummy's hard clit stabbing between her cunt lips, and remembered how she'd opened her mouth to protest and how one of the girls – she couldn't remember which one – stifled the cry with her hand while the others got her spread-eagled. She remembered the shame, the fear; how she thought for sure she'd die of embarrassment because of the awful things they did; how they talked in excited whispers about her hot, hairy holes, kissing all over down there, fingering her while she lay helpless.

Suddenly Cynthia shifted. She moved low on the bed, until her mouth was on the red wedge of pussy hair and between Wendy's little-girl thighs. Her wet tongue lashed out.

"Ow! Ow!" Wendy clutched at her head, the expert lips taunting her cunthole. For a moment she wondered where her mother had mastered such things. She felt the tongue swirl and dart, lapping greedily. She felt it wash the crack of her ass, and flick into her puckered anus. She felt the hands splayed on her buttocks begin to massage, rubbing the halves of her bottom together, opening and closing the moist holes. It was as if she were being eaten by one of the girls back at the home, as if Mummy herself had done time there, and had learned all the tricks…

"Take off these darn panties. They're in the way." Cynthia knelt. Taking hold of the bothersome undergarment, she yanked downward, tugging the nylon off the girl's trembling legs.

Wendy watched her, raising up to help but recalling what her mother had said earlier about having no shame. She glanced down at her wide-spread legs. She couldn't feel shame any more – not after the year at the home, where she'd been sucked and abused in every way imaginable. Now she could feel only the tiny pink bud in her vulva, the swollen, greedy mouth of her cunt. Her gaze settled on the thick bush between Mummy's thighs, the black contrasting starkly with the creamy white of mature loins. Her breath quickened. Her belly began doing somersaults inside. It was horribly wrong – all of it; she was a good girl, and should indeed feel shame at the mere thought of the doubly perverted incestuous union. Yet she wanted the furry black muff in her face. She wanted to smell Mummy's pussy, drink her cunt juice. It was the hole her daddy had fucked in to make her, and she wanted to know every inch, every luscious fold.

"Take off your clothes too, Mum… Cindy. So… so I can do you."

Mummy paused to stare down at her. Her blue eyes were glazed, hungry. "I… I haven't done anything like this since college," she said in a husky voice. "We… there were three of us who roomed together on campus, and one, Diane, had a clit as big as a little boy's dickie. We only wanted to see, to compare. I was too dumb to know about girls like Di, about lesbian sex. I was still cherry."

Fascinated, Wendy sat up. Her hands helped Mummy undress, moving lovingly over the mature contours, that were flabby in places but nonetheless appealing. "Oh Mummy… I mean Cindy," she whispered. "It… it must've been horrid for you, not knowing and all. Like me. Like when Lew raped me, and then the awful bull-dykes at the home."

"Um!" Cynthia's cunt dripped cream down the inside of her thigh. "I didn't want to at first," she continued, staring off into space as if remembering like Wendy had remembered moments before. "But Judy, the other girl, talked me into getting down there for a look. My clit was so small, and Di's was so big, and Judy's too, that I thought maybe there was something wrong with me! So I looked. I went down while Di lay naked on the bed, legs wide apart. And then Judy – oh, she was a bitch! A dirty slut! Judy fell on my back, rubbing her cunt on my ass and mashing my face into Diane's stinking queer pussy." Her melon tits popped free of the last garment. She offered one of the rubbery brown peaks to Wendy.

Mouthing the nipple that tasted of salt, and was twice as big as the pinkness at the tips of her own breasts, Wendy wrapped her arms around her mother's waist, and sucked her. They knelt together, four trembling hands exploring buttocks and thighs. The girl cooed, thinking how alike they were despite the difference in age and temperament, the black cunthair and the red. She forgave everything now. Her face was raw from the beating, and the blood was beginning to crust at the side of her mouth. But Mummy had suffered the same indignations, the same perversions she'd been subjected to at the home. It formed a bond between them, she thought; a secret tie.

Then she stopped thinking. Because Mummy's hand was cupped at her little red pussy; she was being eased back onto the bed. "Sixty-nine," she breathed, guiding the heavy woman thighs astraddle her face, gasping as the tongue returned to her agitated slit.

"Eat Cindy," gurgled the open mouth, drinking the juice from her cunthole. "Suck Cindy off!"

"Oh, yes. Yes! Yes!!" Using two fingers on each hand, Wendy spread the fat cunt lips, closed her eyes, and began sucking the pussy. She planted her feet on the bedding, lifted her ass, and slapped her cunt into the face that had reprimanded her so sternly mere hours before. Now they were equals: Cindy and Wendy! And there would never again be cause for shame in her life, she felt certain.

CHAPTER FIVE

The shame came a month later, when Larry, the boy from school who used to dry-hump her in the back seat of his car, called unexpectedly. She hadn't returned to school; hadn't seen him since weeks before the afternoon with Lew. He asked when she'd be back in class, and she told him next term. He asked if she'd like to go for a ride, and she accepted.

She waited on the front porch, avoiding her parents. It had been fun with them at first, but now the nightly trysts with Daddy were beginning to overlap the morning "housecleaning" sessions. Sometimes she overheard them arguing about her, shouting accusations that were true but nonetheless terrible to hear. What she needed was a boyfriend, she decided, someone who'd fill her spare time, and show Mummy and Daddy she didn't need them – didn't need anyone. Larry was to be it!

It was almost dark when he arrived in a spanking new convertible, top down, tooting the horn and waving. She leaped from the steps, in love with the moon, the spring air, anticipating his reaction when they parked and he saw the black pantyhose and she let him go all the way.

"Man, oh man!" Larry breathed, reaching to open the passenger door. He eyed her trim legs, her swelling tits. "Jeez! You sure have changed! You were just a kid, and now you look like something out of a hot girlie magazine."

"Like?" She spun around, light-headed, showing off the new white knit mini. She knew Daddy was watching them from the front window, but she was determined to make him sweat, to prove once and for all that she was grown-up, and that neither Daddy nor Mummy could go on treating her as a mere child.

"C'mon baby, let's cut out for our parking space in the woods." Larry patted the seat.

She grinned. Abruptly she climbed into the car and sat on his hand.

"Jeez!" He cupped a plump buttock in his palm.

She leaned close, kissing him lightly on the lips. She liked the warmth of his fingers curled beneath her round bottom; liked the uncertain look in his eyes, as if he were wondering if she was for real or maybe something that might go away before he could get some. Again she glanced toward the house; Daddy was still at the window. "We'd better go," she said, lifting so he could remove his hand.

Larry studied her a moment more before putting the car in gear, and pointing the nose toward the corner. She settled back, her head resting against the cool leather and humming the tune wafting softly from the radio. She watched his hands coax the wheel to the left, tipping them with the turn. She sighed, speculating on how he would act – whether he'd be gentle or ram his cock in like a furious bull – once they were alone in the dark, settling like a blue-black cape over the colorful sunset.

The drive out to "the point", where most of the kids from school went to neck and make love, was heavenly. She'd forgotten how majestic the tall evergreens were, how sweet-smelling. She breathed deep of the pine scent as Larry steered the car into their private spot beneath the low branches. There was another car parked nearby, but she took only cursory notice. She was too eager, too excited at the prospect of another long dick pumping cum up her belly to suspect what was in store.

"Want a cigarette first?" Larry silenced the engine, turned toward her.

"First?" She wanted to tease, to prolong it. She wanted him to treat her as if she were his steady girl, someone special. She wanted to be wooed before she opened her legs and let him use the sweet little slit in her pussy.

"Before we fuck!" he said bluntly. "Shit, I know what goes on at the State Home for Girls, baby. I know a few chicks who did time there, so don't play the goody-good innocent bit with me!"

Wendy frowned. Her heart thumped furiously. There was something in the way he spoke that frightened her: he was no longer the boy who'd been polite and just a little bit shy on dates, happy to get a cheap feel and a dry fuck.

She sat up tall, thrusting her pointy breasts at him. "Take me home," she said.

Larry grunted, and moved close. "I'll take you home, awright. After you give us some of what we came up here for." His hand shot under the hem of the dress, gripping her crotch. He forced her down on the seat, fingers probing.

Wendy gasped – not so much because the hand was mauling her pussy; she was used to being abused. But now her eyes grown accustomed to the dark, she saw the grinning boys in the other car, with no girls, and realized that the "we" Larry had threatened had to be them.

As if the strangers in the other car had read her mind, the doors opened and out stepped one, two, three…

My God! thought Wendy. There were four of them! Did Larry actually intend to subject her to a five-man gang-bang? Five stiff cocks? There simply weren't enough holes in her body, and she knew she'd never survive if they took her one by one in her tiny pink cunthole.

"You let me go!" she hissed, breaking free and trying to climb over the backrest as the four laughing boys started toward them.

Larry's hands closed tight on her waist. "We ain't gonna hurt you none, baby. Just a shot of hot cunt. You can do it. I bet you took lots more than we have to offer up at the home." He bent her far forward, her torso suspended over the back seat, with her hips and her cute little round ass propped high in the air.

She was helpless, arms flailing, legs held by his weight. The others surrounded the car; "Hey man," said one. "What you got there?"

Larry chuckled obscenely. One hand slipped from her waist, tracing the valley where the pantyhose were stuck deep in the crack of her bottom. "Hot stuff," he said, twisting the nylon along with his finger up her pinched asshole.

"No! Oh God, no!" Wendy thrashed about helplessly. It hurt, hurt something awful, the panthose burning her sphincters as the finger bored in. "Oh! Oh Larry, please stop. STOP!"

"You're fucking her up," observed a boy with wild hair and legs that seemed to be a mile long. He climbed over the side of the car into the back seat. Cupping her chin in one hand, he undid the zipper down the front of his filthy jeans. "What this momma needs is some tenderness," he added, freeing his uncircumcised cock and rubbing the awful half-hard thing in her face.

Wendy recoiled. She had never before seen what the girls at the home called an unkosher joint. It was the ugliest thing she'd ever seen. Horrid! She backed away, then wailed because the move forced the rigid finger and grating nylon further up her tight asshole. "Lookit that be-hind!" groaned a third boy, as Larry yanked the pantyhose down off her hips, exposing her ass cheeks. "I got seconds, man."

"Shit, you got!" someone objected. Fingers tore into her cunthole. "Larry first, me second, then the rest of you guys."

"So fucking do it already, before I cum in my pants. But leave them kinky panty leggin's on. I dig it that way."

Wendy couldn't believe what was happening to her. This wasn't the girl's reformatory, yet she was again being attacked – and used like never before.

Rough hands were tearing the new dress off over her head, stripping her of her underclothes. The filthy, uncircumcised cock was butting her closed lips, trying to make her open, to make her suck; and to each side, wherever she looked, there was stiff man meat waiting to spurt cream into her. And behind, kneeling on the front seat, was Larry – the fucking bastard was setting the head of his dick at the lips of her pussy.

"I won't! I won't!" She moved her ass furiously, dislodging him.

"Lousy bitch!" An open hand came down hard on her bare bottom, the whap! drowning her cry. The hand fell again, and again and again and again, until she stopped struggling. "That's fucking better," growled Larry, setting the hot tip of his rod at the swollen lips of her vulva once more. He inched closer, pushed the pants and shorts further down his legs. "Now…!"

"Ohah! Oh God, no… ohhhh…" She felt his big prick glide smoothly up her wet pussy, and began to whimper. But the sounds that came from her throat were no, longer the protests of a moment before. She couldn't help liking it. As with Lew and the others – Doctor Bruce, Daddy, everyone who'd stuck something up her hot, hairy hole – her belly began sucking him up, up into her.

Rape! her mind cried. Larry was using her body, cruelly bludgeoning her sweet little pink gash, and she – what was wrong with her anyway? She was wiggling back onto the stiffness, taking all he had to offer and searching for more.

"That's the way, honey. Wiggle. Fuck back." Larry's hand slipped under her belly, his fingers weaving through her red curls. The other hand cupped her left breast. Still another – she didn't know whose hand it was, didn't care – slid clown the crack of her uptilted ass, opened her sphincter and drove two fingers into her rectum.

"Open your mouth, beautiful!" The boy with the uncircumcised rod had dropped his pants. Hands at either side of her head, he bent her neck back, forcing her mouth open. Then he fucked the ugly thing in, and said, "Ahhhhhhh!"

Wendy gagged. She felt the big dick in her belly pull back for a stab at the same time the one in her face began to bore into her throat. "Oh God, no!" she choked, watching the lengthy cylinder disappear into her throat like a railroad spike being pounded home. They were killing her – flooding her with the hot blush of shame. They were fucking her every which way, with hands and fingers, stiff, throbbing pricks. Wrinkled sacs swung at her chin, more smacking her plump little bottom, still more dangling from the three cocks waiting their turn to degrade her.

"Motherfucker!" exclaimed the voice belonging to the fingers reaming her rectum. "For a chick who was complaining a minute ago, she sure wants it now. This asshole – man!" Another barb found its way up her gaping asshole. "I ain't never seen an asshole nip like this one. Honest to Christ!"

Wendy wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. Although she tried and tried, not wanting to let them know that inside her little round belly there was a fire only cum could subdue, her body refused to obey, refused to rebel. Only her mind held back and saw her degradation. Her hot, hairy holes were a mass of quivering nerve ends: she had no morals, no shame. Even the terrible thing in her mouth had begun to taste good. She felt it, the hunk of unkosher meat at the tip butting her tonsils. She saw it, the slick shaft sliding into her face before the boy's hips went into reverse and drove further than any prick had ever before penetrated: all the way in to her gullet, down into her stomach, it seemed.

"That's it! That's it! Ah, baby – baby! Fuck! Keep fucking! That's it – aaahhhh!!"

Larry's weight came down on her back, his loins glued to her rump, throwing her farther forward and mashing her glistening lips into the other boy's wiry cockhair. Jism began to pour up her tight little cunthole.

"Ummmm! Oh yes!!" She wiggled for more. Her teeth locked at the roots of the prick in her mouth. The boy she was sucking grunted, clutched her head in both hands, and ground and pumped until his rod pissed cum too.

The other boys, those waiting to get at her, made obscene comments, squeezing her titties and her ass. But Wendy heard only the slosh of Larry's cock dipping in and out of her belly. She felt only the cum pouring off – the white sticky stuff oozing out and down the inside of her thighs, down her chin, and her neck. Her hands went eagerly to the fat sacs jerking below the prick in her mouth. She fucked her hips back into Larry and kneaded the balls in her palm, coaxing out more cream and sucking it in at both ends. Her head was a merry-go-round: the gaily colored horses went up each time the dicks stabbed, coming down to shoot up again with each blast of semen, round and round, faster and faster until the night was a breathless kaleidoscope. And her clit, the sensitive little pink hardon protruding from the sopping wet gash Larry was humping his fiery prick into, began to vibrate and quiver, flinging her over the precipice of orgasm.

She gulped in protest when the hot prick in her belly popped suddenly free, leaving an emptiness, an ache like a tooth in need of filling, that sucked in the cool, piney air. But the limp thing was gone only a moment when another – stiffer, pulsing with the need to shoot cream up her hole – began to pump inch by grating inch up her tight, wet little-girl cunt. And then the one in her face was gone too, taking with it cum and saliva as the boy made room for another – no, two! The boys couldn't decide who was to be next, and so both were going to use her sweet mouth simultaneously.

"I… I… ow!!" The new dick was so hard, so good, that she fucked her cunt furiously back onto the boy who had taken Larry's place. "I can't do both at once," she whispered. But she opened her lips and swirled her tongue greedily over the nearest dickhead.

"You can do it, girlie." The boy to her left, whose cock was no bigger than a fat nickel cigar, began to rub the head of it all over her smooth, flushed face.

Wendy wanted to bite him, to make him cry out, make them stop. They had no right doing such perverted things to her. But the prick up her cunt was so good she couldn't help wanting more. She fucked back, back, wiggling. She stared at the cock bobbing before her green-lidded eyes. A small drop of clear lubricant appeared at the aperture in the bright red tip – almost as red as her own pussy curls, she thought. Unable to resist, she captured the cute rod in her hand and licked the pearl drop away.

"Gimme some of that good girlie tongue," said the other boy, stepping close, his rigid dick bathed in moonlight and jerking like a live electrical wire.

"No. Not two."

"Man…!" The boy's hand came roughly down at the back of her head. "You'll suck it or else!"

Resistance was futile, she knew. Doubled up over the backrest, the boy behind grunting and clutching her cheeks as he stoked rapidly in and out between her young, open thighs, she was helpless, at their mercy. They had only to choose what they wanted, and she had to comply. Larry had seen to that. He'd tricked, her into coming along to the secluded place: a lamb brought to the slaughter. She'd never again be able to look at herself in the mirror, she was certain, never be able to forget. It was dirty and sinful and… oh, and her tiny cunthole simply couldn't stop loving the big, bludgeoning cock.

"Motherfucker, what a mouth. Didn't I say she could do it?" The boy with the miniature prick forced half the length into her face. "Go, baby. Suck!"

Whimpering, hating herself and the horrid boys, Wendy drew the second rod in on her tongue. It was impossible; not even Daddy's sex book, which contained pictures of every position imaginable, girls who did everything, not even that dared to suggest mouthing two throbbing hardons. Yet they were in her, stretching her lips to where she thought for sure the skin at the corners of her little pink mouth was going to tear; beginning to move in and out, in and out, working slowly but insistently toward orgasm.

She closed her eyes, barely able to breathe. She concentrated on Daddy's long, veiny rod, which was almost as big around as the two in her throat. She remembered the feel of him cuming up her asshole. She panted and strained, wanting it over but wishing someone – perhaps Larry, but she didn't really care who – would find a way to squeeze between her and the boy fucking her cunthole, and grind another stiff prick up her trembling behind.

When it was over, when each boy had taken a turn and every hole in her body was swollen and sore, Larry pushed her out of the car and told her to dress. He and the others watched, smoking and making fun of her because the pantyhose were torn at the crotch, and no matter how hard she tried tugging, adjusting them every which way on her hips, her red pussy showed through.

There was a sting in her eyes by the time she pulled the new dress, the white knit now stretched out of shape and stained, on over her aching head. She held her tears back. Setting her jaw, head high, she stepped toward the car.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" snapped Larry from behind the wheel.

"I… I…"

"You shit!" He laughed. The other boys, leaning on the front fenders of the other car, joined him. Larry turned the ignition key and the motor roared.

"You… you can't just go," she squeaked, realizing that he meant to leave her there in the woods, miles and miles from home. Fury banished the shame. "I… I'll tell!" she squalled, searching the moonlit ground at her feet for a big rock to hit him with. "I… I'll have you all… you… I."

She paused to chew her lip as the other boys climbed into the car, the driver gunning the engine. "Ohhhh… I'll tell the police and have you all locked up forever and ever!"

"Who the fuck'd believe you?" Again Larry laughed, an ugly, mocking sound. Extending his finger, he backed the convertible out from under the low branches. The other car made a wide backward arch, joining him.

"Thanks for the suck-off, baby," called the boy with the awful uncircumcised cock.

"Yeah!" hollered another, "We'll come see you next time we got a load for your mouth."

"Or next time we want Rome good cunt," added the one who'd followed Larry, fucking a second hot gush of liquid juice up her pussy.

Wendy's cheeks burned. Her gaze settled on the weapon she'd been hunting. The horns began to toot, the cars nosing toward the narrow dirt road off the point. Quickly she bent for the rock, stood and flung it.

"Come back," she wailed, watching the rock drop impotently behind Larry's convertible. Again she stomped her foot; she yelped in pain from the dumb stone that had gotten inside her shoe. The tears came. She shivered, crying as she watched the red taillights blink and listened to the jeers fade into the night.

It took her almost an hour to walk down from the point to the main highway, and already it was past curfew. She knew Daddy would be furious – more so because he'd ranted and raged when she first mentioned the date with Larry. Now she felt like the little girl he and Mummy said she was: vulnerable, in need of protection. She stood at the side of the road not knowing what to do, wanting to cry again but all out of tears.

At the far end of the highway, like the bright eyes of a panther racing out of the night, she saw headlights. Were they coming back? she wondered. She could imagine them stopping somewhere for coffee, discussing her threats, and jumping back into the cars to come rescue her.

Well, it'd do them absolutely no good! she decided. Her legs trembling from the long walk, her body and cunthole aching, she watched the twin beams draw near. She'd teach them! she thought. She wouldn't get in – no matter how tired she was, no matter how much they pleaded and said they were sorry. Turning, she began to walk along the side of the highway.

The car jerked to a stop at the shoulder directly beside her. The door opened. "Want a lift, honey?"

Wendy blinked at the elderly man leaning across the front seat. She'd been so sure it would be Larry that the stranger caught her off guard.

The door opened wider. The man smiled. "C'mon," he said in a deep, soothing voice. "You look beat, kid. Just tell me where, I'll drop you at the front gate."

Wendy fidgeted. "I… I…"

"Okay, then. I was just trying to help." The car door started to close.

"No wait!" she cried. "I've been walking for hours and hours. My boyfriend… I… he…"

She stepped into the car, welcoming the softness of the cool leather beneath her sore bottom and legs. She looked wide-eyed into the man's face. He seemed pleasant enough – old enough to be her Grandpa, with gray at his temple and wrinkles above bushy brows. She drew a sharp breath and pulled her tummy in tight when he reached suddenly across her. She bit her lip, expecting the worst. But then he closed the door and winked, and sat straight behind the wheel; she went gratefully limp, watching him set the big car in motion.

The hum of the tires was soothing. She huddled in a ball in the passenger corner of the front seat, not wanting to doze. But the man was paying no attention to her; he was staring dead ahead, concentrating on the highway that went on and on and on, like an endless ribbon of concrete from nowhere to nowhere.

She nodded, slipping lower on the cool leather, not caring that the mini rode high on her tightly closed thighs. Her lids refused not to close. There were two tiny men sprinkling sand at the back of her eyes, and the car's rhythm, the unbroken pace, was crooning a sweet little girl lullaby to her.

She was dreaming. The man had taken her all the way home and put her to bed, and Daddy, her wonderful daddy, had come silently into the room. Now he was kissing her thighs, fingers coaxing her legs gently apart so he could get at the torn crotch in the black pantyhose. She sighed, rearranging her legs. She heard him groan – felt his wet mouth washing the dried cum from her little red pussy. She loved that. She loved it when Daddy, when anyone with a moist tongue, was nice to her down there.

She felt the rubbery thing dart up her sore cuntlips, and then down. She trembled. Daddy hadn't been this nice to her in such a long time. He was always taking what he wanted of her; like Larry and the others, Doctor Bruce, the matrons and girls at the home, he was always making her sob and beg before he climbed between her gaping thighs to fuck his dick up her asshole. She didn't understand that: Daddy said they could never do it the right way, because she was his own little girl, and no matter how much he wanted her the right way, no matter how often they fooled around and he fucked her every other way, be would never allow himself to put cum in her cunt. She supposed it had something to do with her getting pregnant. Still, it was stupid: grown-up dumb! But although it hurt something fierce up her rear, and made her whimper and strain when she went to the bathroom next morning, it was worth it to have Daddy do what he was now doing to her tingling clit.

Moaning, hips and ass already in motion, she lifted when he tugged at the cumbersome pantyhose. She felt the undergarment slip down and off. She opened her legs, waiting, wanting the dream to last, wanting to feel the hurt of Daddy humping his dick up her asshole.

"Don't wake up," a strange voice whispered. "Sleep tight, sweet little girl. Open your legs, your pretty red pussy, but keep your eyes closed."

Her eyes refused to obey the soft command. She was in the man's car, not her bedroom, she suddenly realized, and the fat dickhead between her cum-crusted thighs didn't belong to Daddy. Not her daddy, anyway.

Her mouth opened. But the halfhearted protest was silenced by the electric-like thrill of the man's long, veiny cock forcing its way in one mighty lunge up her cunthole.

"I won't hurt you," he choked, lifting her hips, reaching beneath her to take hold of the plump, quivering halves of her gyrating bottom.

She knew it would do no good to object: it never did, not since Lew Ogden. She was beginning to think of herself – her curly red pussy, her asshole, her mouth – as a jism receptacle. Everywhere she went, everything she did, no matter how innocently the day began, it always ended in fucking. There was something about her, some mysterious part of her that drew stiff pricks and abuse as sticky paper draws flies.

Yet the joint in her slippery cunt wasn't abusing her. It was basking up there, the glans drinking in her warmth. It felt good. So good she now wished he'd undressed before parking at the side of the highway and putting it in. She wanted to feel his fat balls, to heft and compare them with the memory of those she'd held up at the point. She wanted to tell him to take the stupid pants and shorts off, and ram the last inch of hard dick up her sopping wet twat.

Instead she said, "I didn't say you could…"

The man raised up, looking long and hard into her eyes. What he saw brought a wide, knowing grin. "But you do, don't you?" he said finally.

"Do-ow. Owummm! D-Do what?"

He laughed. He fucked his hips slowly back, withdrawing all but the tip of his prick from her pulsating cunthole. "You want it. This!" He made the glans expand and contract against her swollen love bud.

Wendy gasped. She wiggled herself up off the seat, pussy snapping, sucking him back in to the hilt. Men! They thought they were so smart! Every last one took advantage of her helplessness, making her do all sorts of horrid, perverty things. And then, when her cheeks stopped burning in shame, when it began to get good for her too, really good, they invariably did something rotten. Like the man now taking pleasure from the smooth pinkness between her creamy young thighs; pulling it out like that and making her pull it in, making her gasp with need and embarrassment. She could see the triumph mingled with lust in his deepset brown eyes. She could feel the sense of conquest in the way he was stoking half the length of his cock in and out, in and out. He had her, he knew: she couldn't stop now if the National Guard appeared with machine guns and dogs, and tried to yank her away.

"Tell me you want it," he said, coming down on her once more, kissing her neck, her ear. "Say, fuck me, mister! Fuckout my cunt real food!"

"No-No."

The hands on her ass began to knead, bruising the tender white mounds of flesh. "Say it! Say 'Please, mister, fuck your hard dick up my round, teenage belly! Make my tight little pussy sore. Fill me with hot cum!'"

"Oh…!" The dirty words made her giddy. He knew – darn it, anyway! She couldn't hide the empty ache in her sweet cunthole. She didn't know why a big dick always did her that way; she didn't know why it made her so wanton and willing to do anything, anything at all, to make the cream spurt and pour out and down the inside of her thighs. She knew only that she couldn't help saying the words, couldn't help wanting more of what the mall had shoved up her pussy. Hard cock! The harder the better! Long and stiff and throbbing, with the jism jacking its way up from his big, hairy balls.

"Please, mister," she gasped. "Fuck it all the way up me. Up me hard! Up my wet pussy! Hard! Real hard!"

The man's laughter was harsh, cruel. He paused for a moment, as if considering the best way to go about screwing in the confinement of the front seat. Taking firm hold of the cheeks of her ass, he grunted and sat up, taking her with him. "God that's good, baby! Fucking good! Put your feet up."

Wendy felt his bulbous cockhead at the inside roots of her belly button. Suddenly she was astride his lap, legs wide. Tentatively she placed her feet on the seat at either side of his thighs, opening her wet cunthole still more. She glanced down, and moaned. Now she could see him. In the dim light from the dashboard, she could see the hard cylinder of manmeat protruding from the grotto below her curly red wedge; could see his wiry cockhair, like a burst of black Brillo standing away from the open pants and shorts. Again she wished he'd taken the cumbersome garments off before putting it in. She chewed her lip, and wiggled. "D-Do it, mister. Oh, do it! Do it!"

"Like this?" Holding the plump halves of her bottom, supporting her weight, the man lifted until she almost slipped free of his prick. Then he let her come slowly down the length of his big, throbbing cock.

"Ummmmmmm!" Wendy wrapped her arms around his neck, and hugged tight. Her belly did flips. Her asshole opened, as if she were going to shit. Her cunt began to nip, dripping hot cuntjuice down the front of his pants. There was a knot in her chest – no! Two! Two hot tits demanding attention. She pressed them into his suit jacket, rubbing until they hurt. She'd never before held a dick in her this way; never before had she sat astride a cock with the stiffness pointed straight up her cunthole.

The man kissed her. One hand spread out on her bottom, he gripped the back of her head, forced her lips open, and rammed what seemed to be yards and yards of tongue into her mouth. Again he lifted, and let her fall. And again, groaning each time she came down onto his lap, making his prick jerk like an angry cobra at the top of her velvety vagina.

Wendy's hand dropped of its own accord to his pants, and groped there. She found his nuts and sobbed, not waiting for him to lift, pushing up with her feet and grinding her tiny pink cunthole down on the glistening pole. She didn't care any more that he was a stranger, and that someone, the highway police perhaps, might catch them fucking. She sucked his tongue and worked his fat balls, not caring about anything except the thick cream she knew was on its way up from the wrinkled nuts in the palm of her hand. She hugged him tight with one arm, and made her ass – now wet and sticky with hot goo from her cunt – go like a wild merry-go-round, like the toy belly dancer on her nightstand at home, but faster, more provocatively.

The man's lips slipped from hers, covering one of the hard buds showing through the knit dress. He blew.

"Oh my God!" His moist breath ignited her titties. Again she glanced down, amazed that such a silly thing – his big, rigid cock, which was slimy and slightly pent and full of ridges and veins – could perform such tingly wonders inside the folds of her sex. She felt the hand on her bottom search for and find the small crack, and then search lower, a finger twisting up the little brown asshole between her plump, quivering cheeks. She wondered about that: she fucked as fast as she could, and marveled that men – Daddy, Doctor Bruce, all of them – found such unabashed pleasure in shoving something up her back there. Before the home, she had considered her rectum a filthy, horrid place, a dirty trick nature had played on her otherwise perfect young body. But it was much more, she was learning. Like her pussy, it was a hot, slippery place that men desired. Not even the shit smears, the smell that clung to fingers and cocks, seemed to dissuade them. Everyone enjoyed poking something up her back there.

She stopped wondering, stopped thinking, when the tip of the stiff prick in her belly grew as fat as a doorknob. The man cupped his free hand at the top of one thigh, holding her down on his lap. "Wiggle it, honey," he gasped. "Fuck that hot red pussy around. Jesus! Ch! Baby! Ahhhhhhh!"

The cum spurted out. It filled her sheath, seeped down onto her clit and throwing her too into the grip of orgasm. "Oh, mister. It feels so good. Ohhhh…"

She fucked and fucked, making her vulva suck up the jism, milking his dick. She closed her eyes and worked, made her wet cuntlips feather the roots, the long veiny shaft, and set her inner belly in motion on the fat cockhead. There were bright lights inside her head blinking.

Suddenly she thought of Daddy. She could imagine him pacing the living room, waiting for her. She could imagine the belt that would raise new welts on her bottom and the hard prick that would force its way up her sore rectum after the beating.

But it was worth a beating – ten beatings! The man, the stranger, was making up for what Larry and the others had done to her at the point. He was shooting the shame, curing the hurt, making her red pussy sing. She felt his jism stop spurting. "No," she whispered, tightening her inner cunt muscles, keeping him hard. "M-Make it spit again. Please. I… I'll do it. Hold still. I… oh! Ummmmmmmmmmm! I'll go up and down real fast for you!"

CHAPTER SIX

Sam paused at the side of the bed to stare down at the worn spot in Wendy's carpet. It was difficult to believe that the girl's tiny pink feet could wear the pile thin. But then, so many things about Wendy were hard to accept. Like the fact that she was grown-up sexually, taking dicks up her cunthole. He wondered what other fathers did when they learned their 14-year-olds were promiscuous, giving it away indiscriminately. Certainly not what he'd done: fuck out her ass! Certainly not go stiff each time the nymphette came near.

Slamming his fist into the open palm of his hand, he mentally cursed himself. It was all wrong! he thought for the ten-thousandth time since the night Wendy had come home and all but raped him. True, he had managed to restrain himself from plowing her pussy. But sticking a dick in his own daughter – no matter where it went in, or how hard he beat her before and after the incestuous act – was against everything he'd ever been taught to believe.

It had to stop! he told himself. Even if he had to break her sweet neck, lock her up in the cellar, and beat her ass raw. He'd torture her if necessary: beat her and make her bleed and beg for mercy. Because what they were doing, what Wendy and Cynthia were doing behind his back, and what he knew she was doing with the boy who'd taken her out, was wrong and had to stop somewhere.

He set his square jaw. Turning, he strode to the living room, where Cynthia sat reading on the sofa. She glanced up at him from the magazine. He knew, Goddammit! She thought she was putting one over on him, but he was as certain of it as he was of his own name. Cynthia – the prude, the stinking cunt who gave him a quickie screw once a week – was having sex with the girl; she was rubbing her hot pussy against the silky red hair between Wendy's creamy young thighs, girl-fucking her, perhaps sucking her off, too. He wanted to slap her face, to make her admit it, to stop it before things went completely haywire. But how to go about it? he wondered. He had no actual proof. He had only as much on her as she had on him.

"Is something bothering you, Sam?" Cynthia rearranged her long legs. The cloudy, pale blue nightgown she wore was semi-transparent. It clung to her belly, and her crotch; her black bush showed through. She saw him ogling, and reddened. Her blue eyes flashed.

"It's ah… it's after midnight." He flopped on the cushion beside her, and tried to remember the last time they'd fucked in the living room, fucked anywhere except in bed. His hand dropped to her full thigh. "Two hours past curfew. Where the hell is she?" he added, fingers moving along the tender inner flesh a whisper away from her pussy.

Scowling, Cynthia smacked his roaming hand away. "Wendy can take care of herself," she snapped. "And if you have any ideas about me…!"

Fury bubbled up inside him. His hand shot to her crotch, his fingers digging in until she yelped and twisted away. Their gazes locked – Cynthia's defiant, his threatening. He wanted to hurt her, to whip off his belt and beat her ass red, as he'd done to Wendy's delectable backside almost every night since her release from the State Home for Girls. But the germ of an idea, like the sudden glare of a flashbulb, lit up inside his head. What he needed was proof of what was going on. He'd give her enough rope to hang herself, he decided.

He yawned, stretched. "Well," he sighed, forcing a smile, "if both my girls can take care of themselves, I'm going to bed."

He rose from the sofa, bent and kissed her forehead. She eyed him suspiciously. Without a backward glance, he strode to the master bedroom. He hadn't yet thought it out, but he knew if he could once catch them together – mother and daughter committing a perverted act – he'd be the boss. He wasn't at all sure what being the "boss" meant; he wasn't at all sure of anything any more. He knew only that he had to climb into the bed, to pretend to be sleeping when Wendy came in and found her mother waiting.

Nor did he know why the thought of catching the two in a heated lesbian embrace, instead of making him angry, gave him a hardon. Or why he placed the coiled belt within reach on the nightstand, slipped between the cool sheets, closed his eyes, and imagined the two naked rumps – one wide and soft and fully mature, the other still girlish, small enough to sit perfectly in the open palms of his hands – grinding together on the sofa in the next room.

He groaned, forcing the provocative images to the back of his mind. It had to stop! he told himself. It had to end before… before he didn't know what!

He dozed, dreaming. He was inside a little red pussy, and there was a judge – the same gray-haired man who'd sent Wendy away – and he was banging his gavel and shouting, Order! Order! The courtroom was crowded with young girls from the State Home. One by one they approached the bench and made accusations: Wendy screwed Crazy Inez… Wendy sucked out Mrs. Hamilton's twat… Wendy stole my Coke bottle, my cock… Wendy… Wendy! All the things the girl had told him, the perverted gets, the degradation and shame, were repeated. The old judge looked sternly down from the bench. Then he grinned and stood, lifted his black judicial robe, and displayed a mighty, stiff prick. "I sentence your daughter to fuck everyone in this courtroom," he bellowed. "Starting with me!"

Sam awoke in a sweat. Jesus! he thought, what couldn't a shrink, especially someone like Wendy's friend Doctor Bruce, do with a Freudian nightmare like that? The girl was making him crazy with guilt and desire.

He listened intently, frowning. Was that Wendy he heard in the living room? Now he noticed that the lights were out, and he recalled the half-formed scheme to catch the girls doing what he suspected they did each day after he left the house. Quietly he slipped from the bed and padded to the next room.

"Don't do it, Mummy," gasped Wendy. "You know – oh! OH! That – um! Oh, that horrible thing! Mummy! Eeeeeeeeeeee! Mummy, Mummy, you know I don't like it this way!"

"Shhh!" cautioned Cynthia in a gravelly voice. "You'll wake your father."

Sam remained hidden in the deep shadow at the open bedroom door. In the shaft of moonlight slicing across the room from the front picture window, he could see the blurred forms, mother and daughter, locked tightly together. But what were they doing? he wondered.

"Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!" wailed the girl in a strangled voice barely above a whisper. She sat astride her mother's full thighs, facing away from the older woman and bent far forward – as if Cynthia's lap were an uncomfortable shitbowl, and Wendy, her face squinched up like a prune about to cry, was struggling with constipation.

"Hold still, babylove. For Mummy. Be a good… um! Ummm! Be a good little honey for Mummy." Cynthia wrapped her arms tight around the girl's trim waist. Hands cupped at her daughter's breasts, she began to hump – as if she owned a stiff cock inside of a tiny love bud.

The dirty cunt! thought Sam, squinting to see what it was his wife was fucking into the girl doggy style. His hand gripped his own stiffening cock, and squeezed it. He groaned. Despite the fact that he'd made up his mind to stop it, to end the family perversion, the girl's struggles and protests made him pant… made him want to stick his hard dick up a hot pussy, any pussy. The four lovely white thighs bathed in moonlight made him all but forget the coiled leather he'd placed on the nightstand. Almost, but not quite! Restraining himself, commanding his insatiable rod to behave, he returned to the bedroom as silently as he'd emerged.

He'd show them! he thought, ignoring his own excitement. He'd put the belt to their asses and stop it once and for all!

Moments later he was back with the leather dangling from his clenched fist. He gawked. Now the girl was kneeling, and Cynthia – eyes tightly closed, oblivious to all but the thing strapped to her pistoning loins – was on her knees close behind her daughter's little round bottom.

Sam stared at the long, glistening thing sliding in and out of Wendy's widespread cunthole. It was a dildo, he realized. A fake cock! He'd seen such things advertised – knew there was an unseen end up Cynthia's cunthole, and each time she humped, fucking it into the girl, she was stabbing it in and out of her own juicy niche, too.

The fury he'd felt earlier, when Cynthia – fucking queer Cynthia – smacked his hand away, now returned, making the blood pound like native drums at his temple. He stepped forward, raised the belt high, and brought it down with all the strength in his arm.

"OH!" Cynthia bucked like a wild bronco at the first bite of the spurs. She looked back over her shoulder, the fake rod popping free of its sheath, bobbing insanely. She opened her mouth, as if to protest. Again the leather licked her wide, trembling backside, silencing the cry, making her roll away and clutch disbelievingly at her burning buttocks as Sam reached for the dildo, tore it free, and pushed her back against the foot of the sofa.

On hands and knees, Wendy tried to scramble away. But he was toe fast for her. The belt wrapped itself around her soft upper thighs. "Daddy, oh Daddy!" she screamed.

He couldn't stop. He wasn't sure any more why he was beating them: whether it was a sudden revitalization of morals, or a need to punish, to hear a woman moan and beg. There was an echo chamber inside his head, the sound of the leather smacking against tender flesh, raising stripes, reverberating. He lashed out again and again, and sent the whimpering girl sprawling on her belly beside Cynthia. His gaze darted hungrily from the black bush between his wife's fleshy thighs, to the hem of the knit dress high on his daughter's waist, and her bright pink bottom. He whipped the belt from one to the other, his cock rock-hard, protruding from the open fly of the shorts.

But the more he whipped, the harder he panted and the stiffer his joint got. Almost as if the stories the girl had told him – the brutalization she'd undergone at the home, the forced sex – had wrought a subtle change in him too. Almost as if he were no longer her father, but a rapist, a man who derived satisfaction from mauling his victims.

He continued to strike, not caring why, but telling himself over and over that it was for their own good, that he was doing it for Wendy – Wendy and Cindy.

Cindy! He hadn't called his wife that, hadn't thought of her in that special way, in more years than he could remember. He brought the belt down across her thick mother-thighs. The tip licked her loose cunt slit. She yelled, tremors racing through her gyrating loins. He raised the belt high overhead, made it sing through the air before connecting with Wendy's quivering buttocks. Over and over. Heart thumping. Nuts throbbing toward orgasm.

He kept whipping until the buttocks and thighs thrashing about at his feet were raw with his madness. Until Cynthia clutched at one leg, Wendy the other, and brought him tumbling to the floor amidst the mass of hot woman flesh.

For a moment they said nothing – the sound of labored breathing and an occasional sob the only noise in the dark room. Was it real? Sam wondered. Was this actually happening to him, in his own house, on his own living room floor?

No! he decided. It was the stuff novelists wrote about. Things that never, but never, happened to real people, a family, in everyday life. Yet there they were: mother and father and daughter, a dildo slick with cunt juice, a cruel leather belt. It was like something out of an X-rated movie.

Wendy spoke first. "You're horrid, Daddy," she yelped, gingerly rubbing her backside. There were tears in the big green eyes staring accusingly down at him. He watched them roll like morning dewdrops down her face, and drip onto his chest. "Horrid!" she reiterated.

Sam almost laughed at the ridiculousness, the incongruity of the scene. But there was nothing funny about the wet, black pussy rubbing, rubbing, rubbing incessantly against him. He looked at Cynthia. She lay on her side, one leg over his, grinding her big, sloppy gash into the coarse hair on his firm upper thigh. Her eyelids drooped, her gaze riveted to his stiff jerking cock. Her fingernails grated slowly, suggestively through the wiry mat of hair on his chest.

He'd won! he thought, recalling how it was way back when he and Cindy first met; the same hungry look in her smoky blue eyes, the eager fingernails telling him she wanted a dick in her belly. Somehow he'd triggered a hidden well of desire in the woman he'd married – married, he now recalled, because she was stacked and lovely, and had once been the absolute best fucking pussy and asshole in town.

Abruptly he pushed Wendy away, and stood. "Go to your room," he snapped.

The girl hesitated, sniffling. She stared up at him with eyes full of confusion. She was such a little thing, thought Sam. So helpless. He watched her wipe her dripping nose with the back of one tiny hand. His dick emitted a pearl drop of hot goo and leaped. Her gaze settled upon it.

"Goddammit!" he roared, yanking her up from the floor and smacking the backside he'd tenderized with the belt. He didn't care that his prick was so hard, so big and stiff, that the role of an outraged parent was almost amusing. He didn't care that he'd fucked out her hot little asshole more times than he liked to remember. It was over. Done!

"There'll be no more of this shit," he told the weeping, trembling girl. He glanced significantly at Cynthia. "Especially between you two," he added, smacking her plump ass again. "Now git!"

Hands on hips, cock standing straight out from the fly of his shorts, he waited for her to obey, waited for her to disappear into the dark, a frightened child once more, and silently close the bedroom door. He turned back to Cynthia – his Cindy once more. He offered a hand, helped her up from the floor. His gaze swept her lush, mature body. "As for you…!"

He crushed her to him, gripped the wide, welted ass, and kissed her as they hadn't kissed in years. Their tongues intertwined. He'd won more than a mere victory over his incestuous desires, he thought… He didn't yet quite know what it was, didn't know how long it would last, or if it really mattered. The only really important thing was…

He set the bloated knob of his prick against her fat mother-pussy. Twisting a finger up her hot asshole, making her wiggle and moan, he pumped once, twice, three times – embedding half the length in her loose, juicy cunthole. He eased her back, and fell with her onto the sofa without breaking the kiss or the union. Nothing – not Wendy, not what he'd caught them doing – mattered any more. The only important thing was the body straining to take the rest of his stiffness, the thighs closing tight at his waist, the hot, hairy hole already sucking the cum up from his bouncing sacs.

"Fuck me, lover," cooed Cynthia into his mouth. Her fingernails dug into his back, and her toes curled. "Fuck me everywhere," she added, her sopping wet gash sucking his stiff prick.

Sam groaned, stiffened, and pissed thick gobs of cum into her belly. He'd won! he thought, slipping the shaft from cunt to asshole, and humping, humping, humping it up between the jiggly halves of her ass, humping it into the slippery confines of her tight rectum.

He didn't hear Wendy crying in the bedroom, weeping as if her little heart would break. He was beyond hearing; beyond caring about anything except the hot, stinking asshole grinding another load up the inside of his rapidly stoking cock.

He fucked. He gripped the heavy lobes of Cynthia's ass, grunted and strained, and forgot all about the small, lovely girl he'd subjected to still another shameful experience: the girl who was at that very moment staring at the bedroom window, chewing her lip as she threw clothes into a suitcase.

CHAPTER SEVEN

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.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sam stared pensively down at the same worn spot in the bedroom carpet that he'd eyed the night Wendy, his little Wendy, had run away from home. A week now, he thought, cursing himself, blaming his own stupidity. Where could she be? he wondered, going over in his mind the neighborhood hangouts, the homes of friends and classmates he'd visited in the hope of a clue. There were just so many places a fourteen-year-old girl could hide. Yet he'd been to everyone he could think of, and still there was no hint of her anywhere.

Worse! Wendy had ignored her parole, had failed to report, and although he'd been stalling, telling the gruff parole officer she was ill – too sick to even come to the phone – she was on her way back to the State Home for Girls, unless he or Cynthia could come up with something to satisfy the Sherlock Holmes character.

Cynthia, wearing the new shorty pajamas she'd bought especially for him, appeared at the open bed room door. "Sam?"

"Hum?" He turned and studied her, thinking how much Wendy had changed their lives in the five weeks since her release from the institution. Cindy was once again the woman he'd married – the chick who knew all the ropes in the back seat of a car, the way to make him propose. His gaze swept over her body. She looked great; she'd gone on a diet, and lost all the excess fat in the week since they'd begun to screw regularly. Her cunt was still loose and sloppy, stretched out of kilter from too many years of taking his dick up her belly. But she'd already made the appointment with the doctor who was going to sew it up some; and, until then, there were other ports he visited nightly, an asshole and a mouth that made up for the deficit, and then some.

"You're not gonna find her in here, Sam," said Cindy, her tone soft, understanding. "I feel as bad about it as you do, but moping around won't bring her back any sooner. She has to get over her mad."

He supposed she was right, but that didn't make it any better, any easier to accept. He watched her step into the room, and cock her head at him. She was almost girlish; she looked almost as good as Wendy had the last time he saw her standing before the dresser, with the same lamp outlining her body through the flimsy nightgown.

He cleared his throat, not wanting to think about sex in Wendy's bedroom. "You better put something on. I can't concentrate with you running around here like that. Not on Wendy, anyway."

Cindy grinned. "You're just saying that to make me feel good."

Sam glanced toward the closet, where the black, frilly thing Wendy wore to bed – wore whenever he gave her a chance to put something on – hung forlornly. Damn it! he thought; knowing what she was doing out there. She'd be doing the only thing a girl her age with no training could do to survive and remain hidden in a world of grownups.

The realization made him angry. Angry and hot! She was still his daughter; he was still responsible for her. And he resented the thought of someone else planting cum in the cunt he'd resisted because of some stupid idea about incest.

Cindy stepped up close to him, and her arms snaked around his neck. Standing on tiptoe, she rained small, moist kisses over his chin, onto his neck, his earlobe. "Wendy'll be okay," she whispered. "But what about me, lover? Momma's got a big problem too."

"Um. I can feel it." He gripped her slim waist, and his limp prick began to stir. He could feel the heat of her loins through the pajamas, through his pants and shorts. She was getting to be some chick, his Cindy. Both of his girls were top drawer, and he had only himself to blame for the temporary loss of the one with the red pussy.

Cindy steered one of his hands to the waistband of the nightie. "You can feel it better at the source," she cooed, pulling the elastic away from her belly, then letting it snap tight on his wrist. "Down a little bit more, love. You know where."

"Here?" Sam found her bush and rubbed.

"Uh-huh." She planted her feet wide apart, still on tiptoe, swaying gently against him.

Closing his eyes, Sam fingered the loose, juicy slit and envisioned the night he'd found her and the girl using the dildo. Now he wished he hadn't beaten Wendy so cruelly; that he hadn't grown so excited, whacking her butt that last time and sending her off to the bedroom so he and Cindy could be alone. What had she done in the dark? he wondered. Had she fingered herself? Had she listened at the door, jacking herself off before going through the window into the night?

His fingers, all four, slipped high into Cindy's wet cunt. He felt her tremble, but it was Wendy he imagined he held in his arms, as he'd held her so many times in that very same room. It was her breath he felt moist on his neck. Her round bottom was raw from the belt, and he was making it up to her. His dick was growing, getting hard, anxious to find its way up her little-girl tightness, up her hot daughter-asshole.

"Lover man," gasped Cindy, offering him her lips, grinding her cunt into his hand. She clawed at his belt buckle, undid the zipper, and let his pants fall to the floor. Her hand dove inside the fly of the shorts, groping.

"Not this way," choked Sam, still envisioning Wendy, seeing her childlike beauty in his mind's eye. Quickly he backed Cindy to the foot of the bed. Then, before she could utter a protest, he spun her around and yanked the shorty pajama bottoms down off her hips. "Over the mattress," he ordered, already shoving the bloated head of his cock between the lush, quivering cheeks of her ass. "Double up, baby. Give Daddy some asshole!"

"Oh! G-Go easy!" she grunted as the cockhead, too hungry to wait any longer, burrowed into her chute, fucking halfway home before she could brace for the drive. "Bastard! Oh, you motherfucker!"

Barely hearing the words, barely aware of her presence, Sam threw her roughly forward onto the bed. He used his legs to spread her full thighs, opening the halves of her jiggly bottom still more. He knew he was hurting her; he wanted to hurt her, as he'd hurt Wendy night after night on this same bed, in this same room, his big cock boring into the same tight, hairy pocket.

For a moment he wondered if the girl would ever come home. He'd promise her anything – he'd give her the belt and bend and let her beat him if she wanted to, if that would placate her. It was a shameless perversion, this incestuous desire that engulfed him; but there was no getting away. The red welts were there, inside his head. The first night he'd come to the room, whipped her to cover his own unruly desires, and fucked out her asshole, telling himself that was okay, rationalizing his incestuous lust. Now he knew better. He took pleasure in beating, inflicting pain, and more pleasure still in subjecting his own daughter to torture.

Groaning, fucking his meat all the way up Cindy's reluctant asshole, the hot blood of desire thumping loudly in his ears, he wondered again – God, how he wondered and yearned! He wondered what Wendy, his baby, the one whose ass he loved to flog and fuck, was doing while he pretended it was her – her succulent little-girl bottom – draped helplessly over the foot of the bed.

Fucking men! thought Wendy. She simply didn't know what to make of them anymore. Like Gus… He'd visited Miss Alberta's house almost every night since she got there, always asking for her. Except last night. Last night, for no reason at all, he'd insisted on her and another girl in the same bed.

Sighing, she stared at the high ceiling and wondered what Daddy, her wonderful daddy, was doing. She wondered if he'd ever visited a whorehouse, and what he would do if he came to this place – expecting to pay for a girl he'd never seen before – and found her, naked, arms and legs out flung, every secret open to view. She could imagine him pausing to ogle at the foot of the bed. Then the belt: his face pasty white as he tore the horrid leather snake from his waist, and beat her and beat her. She could almost feel the cruel blows, the sting of the leather against her skin. But the thought didn't frighten her. The pain, the memory of the last lashing, made her cunthole all sticky with cream, and quickened her breath. She supposed Gus had lots to do with her kinky reactions – he'd forced her into every painful contortion imaginable, every trick in Daddy's sex manual, and then some. He, more than anyone, had taught her to accept pain.

She stretched, trying not to think about fucking; trying to concentrate on the room, the plush, old fashioned furniture. Her hair needed washing, she thought, toying with the messy red locks at her forehead. And she had to wash her underwear. But the other Wendy, the one up her belly, cared nothing about clean hair and clothing and all that. The other Wendy wanted only a cock!

As if the thought had traveled beyond the bedroom into the hall, the door swung suddenly open.

Lew Ogden – wearing the dapper suit and tie he wore each Saturday night when he and the boys "played cards" until daybreak – stepped into the room. "Hey now, baby," he said.

The bastard! thought Wendy, scrambling to cover herself with the sheet. She'd almost forgotten about him. It was the first she'd seen of him since the day she arrived, and she knew by the look in his eye what he had come for. "Oh no," she wailed, curling into a protective ball at the head of the bed. "Not after what you did. No!"

Lew closed the door. He studied her for a moment before approaching the bed. He sat at the edge of the mattress, and reached out to touch her bare shoulder.

"No!" She slapped the hand away, reminding herself that not only was he the one who'd started it all by having her sent to the home; but also the fact that she was there, in a common whorehouse, compelled to give up pussy to anyone Miss Alberta sent up to the room, was his fault, too.

"Fuck off!" she yelled, unable to still the restlessness in her lower abdomen, pussy, and asshole.

Lew leaned toward her, forcing her to the far side of the bed. "So what'd I do that's so terrible?"

"You… you… oh!" She looked hastily about, searching for something to slug him with. He was acting as if it happened every day; as if every young girl in the world was delivered into the hands of a madam, and the delivery boy – him in this case – stopped in for a quick piece of ass whenever his dick got hard. She glanced furtively at his crotch. He was indeed hard, bulging. "No!" she repeated.

Lew merely laughed, and leaned closer. "Shit! You ain't never had it so good, baby. I knew it the first time we screwed. You're a natural pro." His hand shot forward, gripped the sheet, and yanked. Wendy tried to leap from the bed, but Lew caught her trim ankle, and sent her tumbling onto her belly. She felt the smooth material of his suit on her back, the bulge in his pants leg. Silently she struggled. She twisted to face him, balled her hands into fists, and rained light blows about his face and shoulders. She wasn't sure why she was fighting – she longed for a cock! But wrestling, making him take it, hurt her in the process of getting it in, and made it somehow better…

"C'mon, ya bitch!" Trapping both her small wrists in one hand, he held her arms pinned to the mattress above her head.

"Oh…!" Wendy kicked at his crotch. Her bare foot dug into his balls, and made him groan. Panting, she watched with satisfaction as the blood drained from his face; watched the fury creep into his pain-stricken eyes.

"Ya rotten little fuck!" He doubled up, the knee of his pants rubbing her pussy. He rested a moment, trying to catch his breath. Then, when his breathing grew steady once more, he punched her, a right in the thigh.

Wendy opened her mouth to bellow, but a mere squeak came out. It was the worst pain she had ever felt. It snatched the wind from her lungs, and brought unwilling tears to her eyes. She tried to straighten the tortured limb, but the slightest movement gave her new stabs of pain. And before she could recover, his hard fist struck again, crippling the other jackknifed leg.

"Wanna play, huh?" Lew jumped from the bed, and began tearing at his clothes. "Fucking cockteasing whore! I'll give ya something to play with, all right."

Thigh muscles locked, legs gaping open like the hind legs of a frog, Wendy watched the garments being flung to the floor. She saw his big half-hard prick spring free; saw the shorts fall, exposing the mass of black cockhair and the enormous cum sacs. Her limbs twitched. Her hot little cunthole tightened in anticipation.

Not bothering to discard his shoes and socks, Lew fell hungrily on her. His hand filled the gap at her pussy. "We never did finish the first one," he said, fingering her clit. "But I can't forget how hot you were, baby. So be nice to your old Uncle Lew. There's nobody to stop us now."

"I… I hate you. I hate you! I hate you!" It was only half true. Only her mind – a residue of the "good girl" Wendy – hated him. The rest of her loved what he was doing. Inside her sheath, the other Wendy was flooding her channel with love juices, preparing the way. And now she was remembering the first time with Lew – how he'd taken her cherry, made her thrash and whimper and want it, but was snatched away by Penny before the cream could overflow into her eager cunthole. She felt the long, veiny meat at her thigh, the glans growing fat as he humped against the creamy inner expanse so close to her niche. She glanced down and saw his hand working. She looked into his face; darn men and their cocks! She couldn't help wanting him, even after all the horrid things he'd done to her, and the hurt he'd caused her body.

"Remember how it was, kid?" Lew kissed her tits; first one, then the other, teasing the nipples up tall. The hand at her cunt rubbed until she was swollen down there. He inched his dick closer. "You fought me then, too," he said, tickling the crack of her ass with two fingers. "Shit, baby, I had to wrestle every fucking bit in. But it was good – worth waiting for. Christ! I used to watch you run around with my Tish, in and out of the house, and think, Lew, that's a sweetheart. You gotta get some of that one. One of these days, one way or another, you gotta make that cute bitch drop her drawers. And then that time at the party, when you wouldn't sit on my lap no matter what I offered? I was hotter than hell that day – my dick just wouldn't go down after seeing you in those fuckin' tight short-shorts. I made up my mind then and there to take it if I couldn't make you give." He covered one tit with his mouth, chewing on the rubbery peak.

"I… I still hate you," she said in a small, unconvincing voice.

"No you don't, sugar. You like old Uncle Lew. I can feel it in your cunt. It won't let go of my fingers."

Wendy sobbed. The pain was ebbing, leaving only a glow in her loins. Already her hips were gyrating, and the talk of the birthday party was making her giddy. She was innocent then, she recalled: a silly child who blushed at dirty words and whispered jokes, but who knew all the positions in Daddy's secret fuck book and was at once attracted and frightened out of her wits by the thought of a foot long prick pushing up her round, virgin belly. She remembered how Lew had tried to talk her onto his lap; remembered the mighty bulge in his pants, the pock now moving slowly toward the moist pocket between her young thighs. If she'd only known then, she thought, known how good fucking was. If she had given in willingly that day, she might have avoided the misery, the pain, the shame that followed the rape.

But then she wouldn't have gone to the home, she realized. She wouldn't have met Crazy Inez and the others; she wouldn't have learned all the best ways to fuck. And she would never have mustered the courage to seduce her own daddy.

It was all so confusing: sex and pain and degradation. Like men, and the things they did to her; she didn't know what to make of it any more. All she knew for certain was that the cock nearing its target was long and stiff. That inside the funny-looking things, the sacs she'd always considered a silly genetic invention or an eyesore, there was another thick cum load waiting to blast off up her pussy. Nothing else really mattered. She didn't care that it was Lew's pecker; it could have belong to a horse, a bull, or the elephant Crazy Inez told the dumb joke about. It could have belonged to a whale – just so long as it was shoved up her cunt, and could spit, and the burning need making her forget the ache of her bruised legs was temporarily sated.

"Move to the edge of the bed," Lew told her. "I wanna get every inch of this…" he took hold of the shaft of his dick, rubbing the fat knob slowly up and down her wet, pink cunt lips, "up your hole. Shift it!"

"I… I… ummmmmmmm! Oh!" She didn't know what to do. It was as if she were being suffocated by her own desire.

"Still need persuading, huh?" Lew stood, gripped her ankles, and dragged her to the edge of the mattress. He steered her legs to his waist, causing new stabs of pain in her thighs. "Mother!" he hissed, staring into the breach at her crotch, straight up her cunthole. "That fucking sweet gash of yours looks too tiny. But it ain't! Man, do I ever remember how it ain't!"

"Oh! Oh!" She felt herself being lifted, until only her shoulders and head remained on the bed. She felt his hands spreading the cheeks of her ass, her thighs. And then she felt him end his nuts – the huge, hairy things butting the underside of her buttocks as he thrust into her.

Lew buried the tip of his meat in the tight niche below the red curls. A sound – half grunt, half sigh of satisfaction – came from deep in his throat. Holding her legs at the crook of the knee, he stepped closer, pushing the length of his prick smoothly up, going in to the hilt in one unbroken stroke.

It was the wildest thing. She felt his hardness at the top of her head, it seemed. It left her gulping for air, too thrilled to speak, too bloated to give more than a cursory round and round ass wiggle. Wide-eyed she stared at the black cock hair mixed with her satiny red ringlets. It was stupendous: the absolute best way to take cock up her belly.

"Mary mother of fucking Christ," breathed Lew wondrously. "I forgot how good it was. Jesus!" He moved his loins slowly from side to side, keeping it in to the roots and causing friction by grinding their pubic mounds together. "Um. Ah! Ah! Ahhhhhhh! That's what I call fuckin' pussy. Roll some more, baby. Put it in motion."

Wendy obeyed, no longer thinking, allowing instinct to guide her. It was difficult, almost impossible, to get her ass working in the awkward position. But every slight stir sent new thrills up her spine, and spurred her on. She threw her arms wide, gaining leverage, ignoring the ache in her bowed neck, and set her pelvis going in slow motion. She watched her cunt swell and flatten, swell and flatten – as if the other Wendy inside were sucking him off. She watched his tempo increase; saw the fat, slimy shaft begin to pull back and plow. The sight made her wild, crazy for cum. Somehow she made her hips match his building rhythm. The room spun, and the mattress became a screeching seesaw. She whimpered and fucked, doing things no good girl would dare, urging him on.

"Ah! Too much! Too fucking quick, baby." Lew tried to slow down some, but he too was caught up in the frenzy; he couldn't resist. "Too fucking, fucking – oh! We're out of it now! Too – oh, Jesus! Oh, sweet little fucker. I…"

Wendy knew what the non-words meant: the cylindrical rod was about to spurt hot cream into her. And that, she now realized, was the only "good" that actually mattered. "Harder!" she managed in a strangled voice. "Oh, don't stop now. Fuck it to me. Stick it in! Stick your cock up there! Oh, just like that! All the – um! Up me! Up me! Up me!"

Trying to oblige, Lew fucked in so far that one of his nuts got wedged in the crack of her ass. She tightened her cheeks, holding it. She used her buttocks to milk, rolling the halves of her bottom on the sensitive sacs, savoring the feel of the wrinkled man flesh at the mouth of her rectum. She closed her eyes tight, screwing like never before. It was better that way – she'd read somewhere that the blind were gifted with heightened sensory perception. It was true, she decided, squeezing her eyelids shut so forcefully that it hurt. It was true because now she could feel every wrinkle, every hair on the trapped ball. Impulsively she wished for permanent blindness. She wished her body could be taken apart and put back together, leaving out all the unnecessary parts, all but her pussy and asshole. She wished she could somehow become cunt from head to toe, and a rod, a giant's huge prick, could fill her forever and ever, and never stop pissing hot liquid juice up her frantic cunt.

Suddenly Lew lifted her legs to his chest, so high that she was standing on the back of her head. His prick retreated one last, breathless time, and came pistoning back with the force of a torpedo, and blasted.

Her clit throbbed. It was such a marvelous load she could hear it – actually hear the cream spurting! Her cunthole became a pink velvet vise. The split up her ass nipped at his cubes. And her, hips! Her hips moved as if disconnected from the rest of her, slap-slap-slapping against his loins, fucking her toward the place where Lew stood pouring off jism.

"Roll it, baby. Twist!" Lew's knees buckled, and hit the edge of the mattress. But his prick refused to stop spitting. Gob after gob shot into her. "Motherfucker!" he groaned. "Sweet baby – fuck! GO!"

She didn't have to be told twice. Because now she too was cuming, the hot juice spewing out as if her cunt were a faucet. She couldn't breathe, and her lungs were about to burst through her tits. Her belly was about to explode and spatter cum all over the room, and her asshole – oh, her adorable prick-loving hole was about to drop shit on the bed.

"You little mother," choked Lew as the first turd appeared, inched out, and slipped slowly down his fat balls.

"I… I can't help it," sobbed Wendy, still fucking, unable to control herself from the waist down. Another shithall plopped onto the sheets. And another. "Owwwww!" she wailed, hating herself, hating him, hating God for having created big, lovely cream-pissing cocks.

Lew grimaced at the stink wafting up between them. His dick went limp. Abruptly he pulled out, dropping her bottom into the mess on the mattress which was oozing down onto the floor. "Stupid cunt! I should break your filthy ass!"

Wanting to die, cheeks burning anew, the hot shit spreading like a syrupy pancake beneath her weight, Wendy watched him move to the foot of the bed snatch her white knit from the post, and use it to wipe his nuts. "Not my dress!" she bellowed, sitting up in the gook.

"Dirty bitch!" Lew flung it at her.

She tried to duck, but she wasn't quick enough. The material wrapped itself around her head, smearing the brown, smelly slime all over her face. She hollered; she fought to dislodge the horrible thing, wrapping it tighter, getting the shit in her hair. It had been so wonderful there for a moment Lew humping it to her, her cunthole ablaze. And now this! Treating her as if she were not better than the shit itself. And still she wanted him, wanted his dick up her hole. She smelled her own awful stink, felt the slime beneath her buttocks and thighs, and could think only of how good it was when he lifted her onto her head and rammed it – his love dart, his long spitting dick – all the way home.

CHAPTER NINE

She'd forgotten about the parole, about the possibility of being sent back to the State Home for Girls. By the time Daddy found her – getting it out of Lew: beating him up some, she suspected – the grumpy old man she was supposed to report to each week had already signed the recommitment papers. Daddy was furious with her. But after the initial scolding and a kiss to make up, he suggested she hide, and go away to an aunt's home out of the state until she was eighteen. But that was no good, either, because the aunt was Mummy's kid sister, and she suspected there was more than blood ties involved in the summer vacation relationship.

"It won't be so bad," she told Daddy. "I know most of the girls, and – well, I don't know."

"Four years," he whispered, crushing her to him, tenderly patting her bottom. "They can keep you till you're an adult. It's my fault, honey. I shouldn't have whipped you that night. I wish… Goddammit, I wish we could turn the clock back. All the fucking way back to the day Lew and Penny Ogden told those lies about you in court."

Wendy rested her head on his chest, listened to his heart thump, and thought about what he'd said. It was almost a month since she arrived at the house and met Miss Alberta. A grueling month of fucking and sucking every way imaginable. A month of shame and wonder. She was exhausted, and needed a place to rest and think out the mixed feelings. She needed the home, she decided; it was a place where she could sit and evaluate the past.

"Four years isn't so long," she said at last. "At least I'll be grown up. There won't be any more parole, and then we – well, you and I…"

She looked long and lovingly into his tortured face. He wanted her, she thought, wanted to take her right there in the whorehouse. He was almost crying, and sorry, and worried sick, she could see. Still the hand on her ass was exploring, tracing the crack between her melons. The prick in his pants was growing, arid in another minute he'd have her bent over the foot of the bed.

"Then we can do as we please," she finished, pushing him away. "Me, you, 'n' Mummy. It'll be fun waiting for."

The State Home hadn't changed. The red bricks were still gray, and the halls still smelled of pissy disinfectant. The dorms were drab, and the girls still pushed mops that left muddy streaks on the scuffed floors. She was greeted at the door to the strip-frisk room by Crazy Inez, who, because the matron was watching, merely wagged a wet tongue suggestively over thick, painted lips.

"You know the routine," barked the same tank like creature who'd dug rough fingers up her pussy on the fateful day more than a year ago. "Take it off, honey. Strip."

Without hesitation, Wendy peeled. The tips of her breasts hardened as the nylon panties slipped from her hips, exposing the little red triangle that held the answer to all the confusion inside her head. She bent forward, spreading her cheeks, the hot blood of lust gushing into her pussy as the matron stepped close. She watched between her legs… watched the fingers. Then she bucked – purposely impaling herself on the inquisitive darts, sighing.

The ugly old woman seemed pleased. But she was one of the secret dykes, and the fingers remained only a second longer than was necessary to ascertain that there was nothing hidden up the tight niche. Then she stepped back. "Put some clothes on yer ass," she snapped, feigning indignation.

Wendy grinned. Everyone wanted her: men and women, young and old. Her little red bush was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. She stepped slowly back into her panties. Glancing shyly over her shoulder, she watched the matron lift a hanky to her pug nose, pretending to blow as she drank the wet cunt juice from her hand.

Doctor Bruce was next. She was so anxious to get there – but only to "talk" to him, she told herself she almost tripped while entering the office. He was slouched behind the desk, just as she'd seen him the first time. She grinned. Without having to be told, she quietly closed the door and moved to the deep leather chair opposite where he sat.

"Well now," said the doctor, eying her in that same horny way she remembered. "Another one of my girls come home for a visit? They always do, you know. Once they get a taste of our hospitality, they just can't seem to stay away." He sank into the chair, apparently expecting an explanation.

Wendy was beginning to wonder why men wasted time with innuendos, and then, after the clothes were shed, why they changed so much. It was fun talking about one thing and meaning another. Like the word taste! She knew what that meant; she knew that out of sight under the desk the doctor's ramrod was growing, that he was remembering how her lips had chopped down on his knob. But there were other things on her mind: psychiatry! He was the only one she knew of to ask about the mix-up inside her small, troubled head.

"I… I came back because – well, me 'n' Daddy 'n' Mummy… and then Lew and the whorehouse and Gus, and the others. What I mean is, I don't really know actually how it all happened." She looked helplessly into his thick glasses, where the two Wendys tugging her this way and that were reflected.

Sitting far forward, the doctor braced his forearms on the cluttered desktop. "What you're trying to say," he offered in a low, soothing voice, "is that you had to come back because of what was done to you here… in the dorms… in this office."

"No!" She frowned, trying to put her thoughts into words and coming up with nothing. "I… I don't want to, then I do, and it's simply awful, is what."

"Oh?" The doctor's glasses slipped low on the bridge of his nose. His watery eyes blinked at her.

"Sex!" she supplied, fidgeting. Even saying the word made her cunt wet. But that wasn't the bad part. The worst thing about it was the horrid acts men made her perform, and the agonizing fact that she loved it once a big, stiff cock was fucked up one of her hot, hairy holes. Tears of confusion flooded her eyes. She set her small jaw, and sat up tall. "How come I like it when I really don't?" she blurted.

The doctor extended a bony hand toward her. Hesitantly she reached, allowed the long fingers to close tight around hers. She didn't resist when he coaxed her out of the chair, and around the desk. She saw the bulge in his pants, the hungry look magnified by his glasses. He indicated his lap with a nod. She chewed her lip, stared for a moment, and sat.

For the next half-hour, Doctor Bruce filled her head with the technical explanations for perverted compulsions. Sex was for the female a basically masochistic act, he explained. And for a man, any man – even her wonderful daddy – a degree of sadism was as natural as feathers on a duck. She thought that was cute, and told him so. He replied by hiking her dress up, cupping his hand at her pussy, and saying that was cute too.

There were too many big words to remember, and some of it was confusing still. But she was beginning to understand that pain and shame – even shitting the bed, as she'd done with Lew – was to her, to her makeup, her psychology, as necessary to achieving an orgasm as was the need to have a man toy with her titties. Doctor Bruce demonstrated by pinching her nipple so hard it brought fresh tears to her eyes, and more juice to her cunthole. He then stroked her bush, as he might have done to a small pet. That was nice. But when he took firm hold of the hair, trying to pull it out by the roots, it seemed that the thrill which followed the pain was ten times more exquisite.

"D-Does that mean I… I'm sick?" she whispered, opening her legs for his fingers and sucking one, two, three bony lengths up her twat.

"Sick?"

"Ummmmmmm!" Her voice quivered almost as much as her clit. "Am… am I one of them whatyamacallits? You know!" She tapped the side of her head, wiggled, and pulled the last of the four bony darts up her smoking cunt. "D-Does it mean I'm one of those girls in high leather boots and like that?"

Doctor Bruce laughed. "It means whatever you want it to mean, young lady. Some dig whips. Do you?" He lifted her dress high, to her waist, gripped the tender flesh of her belly, and squeezed and squeezed.

Wendy's eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped. She squirmed in his lap, noting the degrees of sensation: first the unbearable agony, then the slight tingle, then the magnificent electric thrill flooding her loins. It was true! The other Wendy was a girl who demanded beatings and hurt, welts and red bruises, degradation that left her so sore and exhausted that the healing power of cum washed through every pore, every nerve ending. That fucking became more than a mere cock up her belly; and orgasm, she and a man cuming together, was a religious experience as sacred as the resurrection.

"Enough psychology," said Doctor Bruce. "Your mouth's been much, too busy talking. What it needs is something to suck on – a lolly! Remember?"

Did she ever remember! She remembered too that she didn't like doing a blowjob. But all that was different now. Now she knew that not liking something made the things she did like so much better. It made fucking that much more wonderful when the cock finally crept in. It made her cunthole sing, her ass chum and dance. Like a nimble ballerina she leaped from his lap, and knelt. She unzipped his fly, and her hand dove inside, captured his rod, and exposed the fat purple glans for her eager, wet kisses. "Lovely lolly," she cooed, forming a wide "O" with her lips, breathing moist warmth on the thing that resembled a ripe plum. "Make your big lollipop pop off in my mouth – dear, dear Doctor Bruce."

Moving to the edge of the chair, the doctor placed one hand at the back of her head, the other at the roots of the stiffness bobbing so close to her face. "This'll do you absolutely no good," he told her. "This time you'll have to serve the rest of your sentence. There's nothing I can do. Nothing!"

"Oh, but you're wrong," countered Wendy. "You've done so much already."

"Me?"

"Yes…" She swirled her wet tongue over the tip of his cock. She licked the stem – up and down. She circled the fat jacket of skin marking his circumcision, and eyed the speck of lint trapped in the tiny pisshole. One flick disposed of the intruder; the doctor's hips shot forcefully forward. "You made me stop feeling dirty about sex," she added. "Now I can do anything. Even this." Again she opened her mouth, forming the cocksucker's "O". She let it slowly down over the cockhead.

"Ohh! Hee! Oh!" Like a tall comical jack-in-the-box, Doctor Bruce went rapidly up and down in the seat. The hand at the back of her head pressed down. "Oh, my dear girl," he sighed. "Yes. Ah, yes, suck it in. My! Wonder of wonders – a self-educated lolly-licker, you are."

Wendy barely heard the words through the roar in her head. She was busy trying not to gag, trying to breathe through her nose and think only of the good fucking to follow. She didn't know why it had to be this way, why she was what she was. She supposed all that had happened, her introduction to sex, was the basis of her uncontrollable drives. She sucked noisily, from deep in her throat. She braced herself between his long, gaping legs, inhaled, and let the hand at the back of her head push her lips all the way down.

"Ahhlihhhh!" Doctor Bruce slumped in the chair, letting his prick soak. His fingers moved affectionately through her hair. "Play with my nuts," he whispered. "Take the poor things out of hiding, dear. Make them happy."

Wendy complied. Looking up, watching his face contort with the wonder of her sucking, she reached inside his fly and hefted his sacs. The pants were in the way. Holding him in one silky palm, she undid his belt, opened the pants wide, and freed the rest of his sex. The glans of his dick throbbed at the back of her throat. Still she went further down, her lower lip turned outward to wash the wrinkled flesh in her hand.

"Ah. Ah!" Doctor Bruce bucked and thrashed, jarring her head, mashing cockhair into her face.

Was he cuming already? wondered Wendy. Was she that good? She lifted her head, watching the slick cylinder cum slowly, smoothly out of her face. She sobbed. Again she gobbled it down, loving the way he groaned and trembled.

Suddenly Doctor Bruce had both hands at the back of her head. "Oh yes! Oh, yes, yes! Ah! Suck it! Don't stop… suck it all!!"

He was indeed cuming, filling her mouth and throat, pumping cream into her gullet with all the force in his loins. She gulped. Kneading his balls, she closed her eyes and imagined how good it would be the next time – up her tight pussy! But it was good now, she realized, amazed. It was suddenly the most marvelous cum in the world. It tasted of salt, and of piss, and of thick, curdled milk. And she was drinking it down without gagging; sucking him off without shame; eating and adoring every inch of his meat, wanting more.

When at last it was over, when the doctor had taken his cock out of her mouth and she was once again settled in his lap, he hugged her and kissed the last cumdrops away. She rested her head at the crook of his shoulder, waiting, too expectant to speak or think or do more than pant for the half-hard thing swelling again beneath her.

"That was spectacular," he choked at last. "I don't believe there's a girl in the place who was ever so good." His hand returned to her thigh; slowly it inched up. His fingers met the legband of the baggy drawers, now sopping wet with her juices. He pushed them aside, returning to the task begun earlier.

Even his fingers felt better now. It was as if the suck off had sensitized the hair follicles, and the hidden root of each pussy curl was another clit. Sighing, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, she moved sensuously, a sitdown belly dancer, bringing him up hard again with the soft halves of her bottom.

"I think it's time we took these off." Doctor Bruce's free hand went to the waistband of the drawers. He inched them down her round, restless hips.

She lifted, first one cheek, then the other, making it easy for him. The veiny shaft of his dick settled in the pinched crack of her ass, and the tip throbbed at her asshole. Her sphincter breathed to take him in, to cheat her eager cunthole. "Hurry," she gasped, shifting again, bringing her vulva within reach of the fat dickhead she'd mouthed a moment before.

Rearranging her legs, thighs gaping wide at either side of his, the doctor took firm hold of his rod and steered the head to the hot, pink gash in her belly. He slouched down in the chair. "This what you want?" he asked in a strained voice, fucking the knob in. "Up… ummm! Up here?"

She couldn't answer; she couldn't do more than mumble incoherently, and sob, grinding down, wiggling to take the rest of the stiffness in.

The doctor's hand covered her pussy. His fingers hooked at the top of her slit, stretching her turning the puffy cunt lips outward to expose her tight channel. His big prick went slowly up, up.

"Hurt me," Wendy heard herself say. "Pinch my ass. Hit me. Hit me!!"

The doctor grunted obscene laughter. Gripping a fistful of tender thigh flesh, he squeezed until the mark of his fingernails were imprinted on the smooth surface, until she whimpered. Then he opened and lifted his hand, and brought it down with a loud smack! Again and again, the sound reverberating through the office, making her reddened thighs quiver like Jell-o. His thumb and forefinger became a giant ant's pincers, nipping her buttocks, leaving cuts like teeth marks, some oozing blood. All the time he was humping, driving cock up her forebelly, planting his long, rigid member in the satiny depths of her pulsing vagina.

Wendy closed her eyes and was back in the room at Miss Alberta's place, with Lew punching her thighs. Now the pain was exquisite, a raging flame in her cunthole bringing on orgasm. The hurt wasn't hurt any more. It was like when she was little and didn't like milk and slowly, as she grew older, the taste seemed to change. The creamy white fluid got good. So good she couldn't stop drinking it. Like the good cream she'd sucked out of Doctor Bruce's huge, hairy cubes. Like the jism she'd taken from Daddy, Lew, and Gus and the others at the whorehouse. Like the stuff in the front seat of the car, from the man who raped her the same night Larry tricked her up to the point for the surprise gang-bang. So good! Better than anything – every stiff prick that had planted cum in her guts…

Suddenly Doctor Bruce stood, taking her with him, bending her over the edge of the desk. "Lovely!" he proclaimed, his hands allover her plump, uptilted ass, his dick soaking, savoring her sweetness.

"Oh…! Go in 'n' out," breathed Wendy. "Don't stand still. Fuck! Fuck out my pussy. Do it. DO IT!" She thrust back, grinding against his coarse cockhair, her cunt ablaze with desire. Now she wanted his cream. God! she thought, head spinning, there was nothing she wanted more – not Daddy, not freedom, not anything.

The doctor began to screw, slowly, making her crazy with longing. His fingers crept up to the top of the dress bunched at her waist. One by one, taking his time, making her beg and thrash on the desktop, he undid the buttons. He worked the garment off her shoulders, and undid the snaps holding her bra. Her titties leaped free, hanging down like ripe honeydew melons. His hands crept over her ribs, tickling, making her suck huge draughts of air while waiting for the nails, the talons at the end of his long, bony fingers, to close on her taut, hungry nipples. She felt his lips at the nape of her neck. "Tell me what you want me to do," he hissed. "Say, 'Squeeze my little-girl nipples, Doctor Bruce!' Say, 'Play with my boobs while you fuck me!'"

She repeated the words – adding some of her own, not sure any more what she was doing or saying. She was sure only of the ache in her loins; the need, the command being shouted by the other Wendy. She felt his hands cup her breasts, the palms rubbing, agitating the peaks. She felt his dick begin to dip, pulling back until the fat head almost jumped free, then gliding – so smoothly, so swiftly, as if it were made specifically for her little pink hole – back in up to the hilt. She felt his nuts slapping her upturned ass, his pants and cockhair and shorts – she couldn't tell which any more – bruising the plump, satiny cheeks. And inside her she felt the fulfillment: multiple orgasm. She was cuming all by herself, two, three, five times. More! So many more she lost count.

And it was only the beginning. By the time Doctor Bruce climbed the mountain, reaching the place she'd arrived at minutes before, her cunt was so wet, her body so sated, so limp and exhausted and used, that she barely noticed the cumload dripping down the inside of her trembling thighs. She was lost in a place drenched in bright flashes and thrills. She and the other Wendy were merging, becoming one. The "good girl" was being interred, put to rest beneath the truth about herself; beneath the need to be defiled, to be taken by force and hurt and abused.

"Fuck me!" she cried. "Hurt me! Beat me! Rape me! Do it some more!"

"Okay, you horny bitch. I'll do whatever you want, just give me the word. I'm no one to deny a woman what she wants in the way of sex, believe me!"

"No, no, I know you wouldn't… oh, Christ, do it, stick it to me… yes, yes, yes! Deep! Fuck me! Rape me! Hurt me, hurt my pussy, make it sore, make it feel this cock of yours for days and days – I don't care."

Her orgasm was still rising; going up like a rocket ship through the clouds of her dizzy brain, making her whole body spin with the wonderful thrill of it.

The doctor made a concentrated effort to stay with it for several more minutes, pumping, pumping away, wildly, in and out, back and forth, not letting up for a moment, stabbing in and out, back and forth, again, and again, till they were both totally out of breath. But still they continued, reaching another point of ecstatic communion, the sensations of orgasm rushing in and out of their every nook and cranny, setting them on an intense path full of screams and scratches and writhing movements from side to side.

"Ohhhhhh! Ahhhhhhh! God, God, it's too much, too fucking much! Yeeeeeeeee! Yes, yes, yes!"

It was still far from over. Her endurance was incredible. She could fuck for hours more, and if he couldn't hold up then she would find somebody else.

"Yes! Fuck me!" she screamed. "Don't stop! Don't ever ever stop!"

"I won't… unless I have a heart attack," said the doctor, with a trace of reality to his sarcasm. After all, he had never been with a lover who was so demanding. And she was that, and he hoped he was up to the challenge.

So far, his dick was holding up rather well, staying stiff deep within her cunt, moving back with the precision and strength of a piston.

In and out, back and forth, again and again he charged through her quaking loins.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she screamed. "I'm starting to come again, Doc, I am, I am! Ahhhhhh! Don't stop! Don't ever stop, you wonderful man of medicine! Yeeee!"

"Ohhhh! I can't stand it! I'm going crazy! I'm going out of my fucking mind!"

Pounding, slamming, ramming in and out of her pussy. Again and again, on and on.

It seemed to both of them that it would never end. And it almost never did.

But when it did, they were both totally gone for days to come.

CHAPTER TEN

It was like watching a favorite movie rerun, thought Sam. She came languidly down the stairs to the administration building, turned her wide, clefted hips toward him, and waved to the girls looking down from the dorm window. Then she faced him and grinned. Heart thumping like an engine room piston, he watched her float toward the car. Again she had changed: she was taller, five-four, maybe five. Her red hair had darkened, become auburn, and was piled stylishly on top of her head. Her legs seemed longer too. And her tits and pelvis were those of a grown woman.

"Hi Daddy," she said in a mature, throaty voice. Her nylons hissed as she slipped into the seat. Her green eyes flashed with suppressed laughter. Demurely she tugged the hem of her thigh-length dress down.

He was speechless. His little girl had grown up, and was a beauty. Where before she was sweet, cute all the adjectives that fit a teenage minx – she was at eighteen a dream, something out of a high-class fashion magazine. But she seemed to have changed in other ways too, the way she held her knees tightly together, the swank but less revealing clothes she wore. Now he knew why she'd insisted that he stay, away, why, after the first year, she wrote less and refused to allow him to visit. She had planned the effect.

"You look…" He searched his mind for the appropriate description, but there was none to fit the occasion. There were no words to express the loveliness of the woman he'd known as a girl in the most intimate way. "You look like you've been doing okay," he finished inanely.

Wendy leaned across the seat, and touched her lips softly to his. The kiss sent a chill up his spine. He looked into her eyes, trying to determine what it was he saw there: the coolness, the firm yet gentle self-assurance.

"Take me home, Daddy," Wendy whispered, stroking his face. "It seems like forever since the last time you took me to bed."

They paused at the front door, Sam grinning into her questioning eyes. Cynthia had arranged a surprise coming home party, with half the neighborhood there. Bygones were to be bygones – Lew and Penny and Tish Ogden, were invited. The smell of charred steak drifted in from the backyard barbecue, and the living room was noisy with chatter and clinking glasses.

Lew spotted them first. Drink in hand, he made his way through the crowd. He stepped close to Wendy, and whistled softly.

Sam felt a sudden stab of jealousy. He remembered that it was Lew, Lew and stupid Penny Ogden, who originally had Wendy sent to the State Home for Girls. "Let her circulate some," he told the man. Turning to Wendy, he added, "I'll get you a drink, honey. You're old enough now… old enough for lots of things."

She said nothing and stared at him with the same suppressed laughter in her green eyes. What was she trying to tell him? Sam wondered. The invitation she'd voiced in the car echoed inside his head. It did indeed seem like forever since he had bent her over the foot of the bed and rammed his cock up her rear. Now he was sorry he'd allowed Cynthia to talk him into giving the party, and particularly for inviting the Ogdens. He was sorry they weren't alone – he and Wendy.

"I'll let Mr. Ogden show me around," the girl said at last. She snaked her arm through Lew's. "I've forgotten who's who. Four years without men…" she paused to glance significantly at his pants front. "Without men friends to talk to," she finished, "is a long time, Daddy."

Lew laughed. Gulping his drink, he set the empty glass on the hall table. His hand closed over the one on his arm. "You can talk to me all you like, baby," he said. "I'm always available."

Furious, but not sure why, realizing she hadn't even bothered to say hello to her mother, Sam watched them cross the crowded, smoke-filled room. Was this the same timid girl who had once lived there? he wondered. There was no mistaking the implication behind what she'd said: four years with out men friends! Christ! Again he recalled what she'd said in the car, and his dick stirred. Trying to keep her in sight, knowing what Lew had in mind, he strode to the bar for the drink that was to be his excuse to follow them.

Wendy knew Daddy was jealous, but she was so tired of old Doctor Bruce, the parole board, and bottles and broomsticks up her cunt, that the thought of Lew's big, strong dick made her giddy. And it was working out just as she'd planned: Daddy wanted her more than ever, and was watching her every move. She moved close to Lew, rubbing thighs with him. "Let's go outside," she suggested.

"Sure thing, kid."

"I'm not a kid any more," she replied firmly. "I'm eighteen, and lots more educated."

Lew's gaze swept her body, and settled on the points of her breasts. "I can see your education, baby. It sticks out all over."

She glanced back to make sure Daddy was still watching. He was. He was pretending to mix the drink, but was oogling her like a small boy peeking in a bathroom window. Her mind raced. She hadn't anticipated the party, an afternoon of idle chatter before bedtime. She hadn't thought about other men. Her speculations had included only Mummy and Daddy – how to get them both in the same bed with her, and how surprised they'd be to discover the new Wendy. Now there were other possibilities: Lew, perhaps Penny and Tish. She could almost feel the crushing weight of two men, a cock at her front and rear entries blasting cum up her belly.

The people from up the street, the young couple whose names she could never remember, offered them sandwiches. But before she could say more than hello, Lew led her away to the hedge overlooking the Ogden garage. His hand dropped to her hip, fingertips brushing even lower. "Remember the morning I found you in there?" he asked.

Did she ever remember! She remembered too what had happened later that day with Miss Alberta. And the time Lew made her stand on her head, and Cuckoo her so good she lost control of her bowels. She let her hand graze the prick in his pants leg. It was only right that he should be first now, she thought: only fair that the first outside screwing she got was from the man who rammed a hot dick through her cherry. "Is the cot still in there?" she asked.

His hand inched lower, and cupped over one cheek of her ass. "Did you say cot or cock?"

She looked from him to the house, and saw Daddy at the back door. Her hot cunthole tightened. She turned back to Lew, and studied him a moment more. "One's not much good without the other," she said.

Instinctively Sam's hand went to the belt at his waist. The little cunt! he thought. She knew he was watching – he'd seen her cast a furtive glance his way. Yet she was letting Lew lead her inside the garage, and there was only one reason, one thing they could have in mind. It was almost as if she were daring him to follow.

He leaped from the steps, avoiding the neighbors who wanted to chat with him as he made his way to the hedge. They were already in there, but in their haste they'd left the door partially open, the top slanting into the roof, the bottom two feet above the macadam drive. He stepped through the hedges, and pressed his back to the clapboard. He waited, stripping the belt from his pants, listening for the familiar sounds of Wendy's frantic lovemaking.

For a moment he questioned his motives, thinking that the roll of outraged father – like on the night he'd caught Wendy and her mother together – was absurd. Still, he coiled one end of the leather belt around his fist, remembering how the girl's buttocks quivered, how they turned first pink and then red, and how her ass always seemed better after a lashing. His breathing grew labored. His hand dropped to the front of his pants, rubbing and massaging the throbbing monster within, not caring that anyone passing the drive could see him. He listened to the conversation that floated like the dialogue of an X-rated movie from inside the garage.

"Oh…! N-Not so fucking quick," said Wendy. "Suck my cunt first."

"Fuck that crazy shit," replied Lew. "A tongue ain't near as good as a dick for what ails you, baby."

A long silence followed. Sam could imagine them kissing, Lew's hand up her dress. Or had the bastard already taken off her clothes? he wondered. He concentrated on the hand holding the belt, commanding it to, stop shaking. What would he do in Lew's place, if he were the man, and Wendy, his grown-up Wendy, were Tish Ogden? He wouldn't waste time, he decided, envisioning the cute little brunette. He'd rip the clothes from her body, throw her onto the floor, and have his swollen dick up her cunt before she could even blink. He inched closer, squatting to peer under the raised door.

"Lover!" sighed Wendy as the dress bunched at her waist and Lew's hands went to work on her panties.

"Jesus H. Fucking Christ," complained Lew. "Stop squirming a minute, will ya? Lemme get these fuckin' things off yer ass first. Man, oh man! I ain't never met a bitch as willing as you!"

Slowly Sam's eyes became accustomed to the dim light. He'd forgotten about the old cot Lew kept in the far comer, in the shadows, partially hidden by cardboard boxes. Now he saw the two figures lying there side by side, arms and legs intertwined. He watched Lew rip the black bikini briefs from the girl's hips, exposing her red pussy, her hot gash. Anger tightened the muscles along his back and shoulders, and quickened his pulse. But at the crotch of his pants was a stiffness so hard it persuaded him to remain still and made him watch.

"Baby! They must've given you silicone shots," said Lew, working feverishly to get the dress off her shoulders. "These fucking tits! Jesus! They were apples the last time, and now they're motherfucking cantaloupes."

Wendy arched her spine and offered the braless melons for sucking. Sam could see the rubbery pinkness, like succulent cherries, crowning each lovely mound. He groaned as Lew drew one taut bud into his mouth. He set his jaw, reluctant to admit that in spite of the anger and jealousy, watching another man play on his daughter's body was more exciting than actually ramming his prick up her rear.

"I – um! Ummmmmmmmmm!" Wendy threw one leg over the side of the cot, opening her thighs to display the alluring slit that began low in the silky red curls and sliced down and under the soft; creamy cheeks of her ass in what appeared to be an unbroken breach. "I love that, Lew. Bite them. Chew them! Let me… oh – lover! Oh! Let me feel your teeth."

"Feel this!" Lew guided her hand to the fat bulge in his pants. "Take it out for old Uncle Lew, sugar. Show it some affection."

The zipper made a slight grating sound, brass on brass. It sent a chill up Sam's spine and made his prick discharge the drop of clear gel that precedes fucking manmeat into a girl's belly. He watched Wendy's small fingers free the thing in Lew's pants, and the blood in his temple pounded in time with the rapid up and down jerks of her hand. It was the most captivating scene he'd ever witnessed. He wanted to storm into the garage, yank Lew from the cot, and shove his own prick brutally up the wet pussy he'd been so reluctant to try. But he held back. He'd wait until Lew got it up her, he decided.

The dress bunched like a rumpled apron at her slim waist, the pink and white flesh contrasting starkly with the dingy surroundings. Wendy threw her other leg over the far side of the cot. "Put it in," she demanded, helping Lew into position, steering the cock in her hand into the slippery folds of her sex. "Fuck it to me hard. Real hard, Lew. Hurt me. Make it – um! Oh, make it good!"

"Man!" On his knees between her gaping thighs, cock like a throbbing telephone pole protruding from the open fly of his pants, Lew put the knob in. "Christ, I never – ah! Baby! Ummmmm! I never thought you'd – ah! Turn out this fucking good that first time I took some. And tight! Still so fucking tight. Still like a virgin, the first time all over again. And you're hot! Hotter 'n' a motherfucking – oh! A sweet, fucking, tight blast furnace!"

"Then do it!" sobbed Wendy. "Shove it in! All… all the way up me!"

Sam thought his head was going to explode. He could see the big dick going in, disappearing in jerks, inch by inch, up the girl's cunthole. He could see her round belly tighten, loosen, tighten. Her inner cunt muscles were working, he knew, and he could almost feel the feathery tickle, feel her sucking Lew up her cunt, just as her asshole, her hot, nipping little-girl asshole, had drawn him in to the hilt so many times. He no longer felt anger. Now he felt lust, a new rage so strong, so compelling, that he wasn't aware of the movement that carried him under the door and into the dim interior. He was aware only of the naked asses fucking in unison, and the belt in his hand.

Swiftly he moved to the cot. His gaze met Wendy's. The suppressed laughter was there: her eyes were telling him, as she had demanded of Lew only a moment before, to do it. Do it! His arm made the belt sing through the air.

It was just as she'd planned: better! She felt Lew's big, wonderful cock slam far up her cunt as the belt licked his ass. Oh, it was good that way, so good. She threw her legs around his waist, holding his loins trapped between them. She threw her arms about his shoulders, straining upward, fucking, cuming with each cruel lick of the leather.

Trumpeting like a ruptured elephant – like the elephant Crazy Inez told the crude joke about, thought Wendy – Lew tried to escape her father's wrath. She held fast, arms and legs locked, maneuvering her hips to receive the full thrust of his agony. She watched Daddy's eyes, watched the realization of what was happening dawn. She wanted to laugh out loud, to let the mirth in her gaze echo through the garage. She knew something they didn't: the sadist-masochist thing Doctor Bruce had explained. It was working now, making Daddy lash out like a wild man with the belt, jacking the cum up Lew's throbbing shaft into her pussy.

"Hit me too, Daddy," she gasped, releasing Lew so the belt could get at her.

"She… she's fucking nuts!" bellowed Lew, not yet aware, astonishment and pleasure contorting his face, cream spurting all over the place as his stiff dick popped free of her sopping wet cunthole.

"No! She's lovely!" proclaimed Sam, the look in his eye saying he understood that this was what she wanted, and what he wanted, too. "Lovely! Lovely! Love-ly!" he reiterated, arm rising and falling, bringing welts to her thighs and making the hard prick in his pants piss buckets of jism.

It lasted until both men were sweaty and panting, and Wendy, tears streaming from her eyes but unable to keep her loins still, took Lew's dick in one hand, the wet bulge in her daddy's pants leg in the other, and said, "No more whipping, Daddy. Now it's time. Both of you in me at once – front and rear. I want you both so much."

She watched Daddy drop the belt. He and Lew exchanged furtive glances. There was no denying they wanted her as much as she wanted them. But men were so dumb, she thought, so thick-headed at times. It was as if each was waiting for the other to make the first move.

"Oh…!" She solved the problem by lowering her face to Lew's lap, knowing the sight of her sucking him off would turn Daddy on. She held his wet cock in one hand, drew him into her mouth; and reached for Daddy's fly. Fingers groping, she turned to offer her rear, thinking for sure he wanted her that way.

"Man! Oh God!" Lew pushed down on the back of her head, forcing his joint, still slick and smelly with the juice from her hole, in up to the roots. "Christ! Don't just let her lay there, Sam. Daughter or not, put something in 'er!"

"Uh-huh," gurgled Wendy, sucking noisily, panting for the feel of Daddy's dick up her asshole. She yanked on his rod, pulling him down to his knees. Then she turned further onto her side, trying to stretch the stiffness, frantic for the first lunge, the first stab of pain before her asshole was juiced with the gook from the depths of her bowels.

Daddy groaned, humping, he slapped her hand away. His own hand went to her wet crotch, but instead of the fingers boring up her chute, the place he adored, she felt him at the sloppy cunt Lew had so recently vacated. "Oh Daddy," she sighed at the pulsing dick in her face.

"Now you're old enough for this, too," he told her. His fingers spread her swollen cuntlips, and buried themselves in the slippery passage. "Up your cunt!" he choked. "Remember, honey? You… you always wanted it this way. Stick your big daddy-rod up front for a change, you used to say. Pretty please, Daddy. Up… up my pussy. Jesus! You must've asked me that ten thousand times. But I kept shoving it…" the fingers not working her slit bored into her anus, "there! All the time wanting to screw you the right way, but thinking, Jesus H. Fucking Christ! What the fuck was I thinking about, anyway?" His free hand snaked around to her belly, and splayed over it. He inched forward.

It was the wildest thing. Lying on her side, legs bent at the knee and bottom extended beyond the edge of the cot, she felt his fat cockhead at the place she'd wanted him to shaft her. He was going to do it, she thought: pump cum up her red-hot pussy. After all this time, all the silly objections, the talk of incest, the beatings, he was actually going to drive his hard daddy-dick up her forebelly.

The mere thought made her head swim. She locked her teeth at the roots of the joint in her face, making Lew buck. Lifting one knee high in the air, she reached down between her legs to guide him. But Daddy needed no prompting. Already, before her small fingers got there, the tip of his cock had parted the folds, and was advancing.

Oh God! she thought. God help her! She was going to piss. She was going to piss and fall all to pieces from the sheer wonder of fucking.

"Wha…?" The cock in her cunt leaped as the hot, yellow stream hit the glans.

Lew laughed. "She shit on me once, Sam. At the whorehouse. This is – um! Suck it, baby. Suck! This is some kid you got yourself, neighbor. That first time… okay, I admit I lied about her being the one to start it. I took it. Me! She kept prancing around in them shorts and minis, and man, man oh man! I kept looking and scheming. She kept my dick hard, and she knew it. Christ, Sam, she fucking knew it and liked it. And then, when I finally got her alone in the house that day and got her panties off, and found out she was still cherry – motherfucker! She's some wild little fuck, man." He paused, closing his eyes as if conjuring a vision. "If my little Tish was as wild as her…"

"We can make Tish as wild," interrupted Sam. "A good touch of the belt is all you need. You put a whip to her ass and she'll screw like a bunny. Just as hot, just as fucking tight!" His cock seemed to grow longer, and become twice as fat around. With one final lunge, ignoring the piss running down the front of his pants, he buried the root up in her pussy.

Wendy gulped. The talk had triggered her clit, and now her cunthole was spewing thick love juice, along with the urine. Tish! she thought. She could almost see the tiny brunette thrashing around under the lash of the belt. Tish loved fucking, she knew. She recalled the double-dates, where she let Larry dry-hump her while the other girl went all the way in the front seat of the car. She recalled what Lew had said about Penny and Tish the day he raped her: that they fucked for everybody! She began to move her head up and down; to wiggle her bottom, thinking what a wonderful coming home party it would be if Tish and Mummy and Penny joined her and the men. She thought how they could make the big bed in Daddy's room rock with their lovemaking, and how bygones would really become bygones if all of them – pussies and cocks in unison – could reach orgasm together.

"Oh mother, that's fucking great," grunted Lew. "Sweet little cocksucker. Sweet… sweeter than cotton candy. Work that tongue! Do it, baby. Suck! Keep that mouth moving!"

"And your ass," commanded Daddy. "Roll it, honey. Like you used to do when – Wendy, honey! Babylove! Make it move like when I used to plow you back here. Up…" his finger shot high in her rectum. "All the way up here! Make your ass go like you used to do then. Wiggle it, Wendy. Screw!"

She didn't have to be told inside her ass the flame was demanding more fuel, more cream. Her fingers crept under Lew's balls. She spread the fat cheeks of his ass, and found his anus. She twisted one slender dart in past his sphincter, and made him yelp as Gus had bellowed when she first probed for the trigger. She fucked herself back onto Daddy, moving so fast the cot squeaked, threatening to collapse under their bouncing weight. Raising her head, locking her lips at the head of the rod in her face, she tickled Lew's prostate gland.

"Christ!" Lew's hands, as if trying to crush her skull, applied pressure at either side of her head. His ass shot off the cot, and his dick grew as fat as a soup can, as hard as a spike. "Ah! Ahhh! Ahhhhhhh!"

Semen as thick as paste blasted off the roof of her mouth. She moaned, and fucked her face down to the clump of coarse cockhair. The stuff clogged in her throat, building until it oozed from the sides of her mouth. She felt it run down her chin, and drip onto her breasts and the cot. She fucked her hips faster, grinding for all she was worth, holding her breath for the moment when the other dick – Daddy's bigger, lovelier, wonderful hardon – reached the bright pinnacle.

"That's it, honey. Wendy! Baby! That's me, babylove. Cuming. Daddy's cum-ingggggggggg!" Daddy's hands locked at her waist, dragging her bottom off the cot, supporting her weight on the cock, which was beginning to piss goo up her cunt.

Her squeal of delight came out muffled. She made her joy known by clamping tight at both ends mouth and cunthole. This was what she'd been born for, she thought, to be used by stiff pricks. To be beaten and bruised and defiled, a receptacle for hot cum.

Silently she thanked Doctor Bruce, the girls at the home, and Lew for having the courage to rape her, to steal her cherry and lie, and have her sent to the place that made her a woman and taught her to love what most girls her age hated. If they only knew, she thought, again envisioning Tish. If she could only teach one – perhaps the tiny brunette – the overpowering joy of domination, the bliss of being mashed beneath the weight of a conqueror, the freedom that came from being debased by a hungry cock, then all she'd been through would be worth it, the fulfillment complete.

But for now she was happy to screw, to drink cum at both ends, to have Daddy's big dick locked tight in her burning pussy at last. And the day was still young, she reasoned. Tish and Penny and Mummy were next door, and perhaps, if she worked it just right, if Lew and Daddy really meant what they'd said about Tish and the belt… perhaps then her homecoming party would end in a sweet, heavenly union.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Wendy was delighted, ecstatic; it was almost too good to be true. Even before the party was over, as Mummy and Penny showed the last of the neighbors to the door, Daddy tricked Tish into a corner and shoved his hand up her dress. Lew joined them, saying something about what girls her age needed was discipline. His hand covered her left tit, and kneaded it. The surprised girl looked from one to the other, gasping, trying not to thrust her little round hips into the fingers fucking in and out of her pussy.

Then Penny returned to the room, and saw what was happening. "You bastards!" she yelped. "Let her go!"

The men hesitated, and exchanged glances. Lew strode forward, and slapped her face: crack! Again Penny yelped. The two tussled, until Penny's legs hit the armchair, and she fell back, legs high, her panties showing. Lew's hand shot into her crotch. The loud protests became an incoherent gurgle, a moan.

Mummy came in from the front hall, stopped short, and gaped. Wendy clapped her hands, a gleeful child once more. What would happen next? she wondered. There were only two men and four women, four cuntholes, and she couldn't imagine how Lew and Daddy were going to manage.

"Get the fuck over here, Cynthia," growled Lew in a voice so forceful the house seemed to shake. His weight held a thrashing – but fast becoming docile – Penny down. His fingers tore at her panties, found her slit, and began to dip into her. "Man!" he added. "I always wanted some of your big fat ass. Bring it over here, baby. Cindy, gimme a fee!!"

Mummy hesitated. She wanted to, Wendy could tell: all of them wanted to! But there was still a hint of reluctance in the blinking blue eyes, which were glancing from Lew to where Daddy was fucking his finger into Tish's hairy brown triangle. A tremor ran through her. Tentatively she stepped forward, and then stopped again. A sob came from the armchair. Mummy opened her mouth, as if to say something, and then clamped her lips together like the halves of an oyster.

"Oh…!" Wendy came off the sofa. Dam grownups! she thought. Sometimes they could be sillier than kids – dumber than she'd been before Doctor Bruce had explained about sex and sadism and like that, and how it was normal for a cunt to want a big, lovely cock, no matter who it belonged to. She took Mummy's hand and tugged at it. Slowly, one mincing step at a time, she pulled the larger woman over to where Lew and Penny were struggling.

"This is impossible," whispered Mummy, as Lew's free hand clamped tight on one jiggly cheek of her ass.

"They're crazy," choked Penny – but she was humping her hips off the cushion, working her twat, trying to take Lew's hand up her cunt to the wrist, it seemed.

"No, not crazy," said Daddy. He paused to unzip his pants and steer Tish's tiny pink hand onto the raging monster within. She touched it, and cooed with pleasure. Her fingers closed tight on the shaft, and whipped it out. "We've – ah! We've been fucking around for years, me and Cynthia screwing Wendy, Lew screwing Tish," continued Daddy. "And all you cunts wanting to get in on the act, but too Goddam stubborn to come out and say so. It took Wendy to teach us. Her and that weird Doctor Bruce, who got five years of free pussy – Wendy's pussy – as a fee for our stupidity."

The gathering fell silent. Wendy watched her mother and father, the Ogdens and Tish exchange furtive glances. It was all very well for them to feel guilty, she thought, but that wasn't getting her laid.

A sudden thought struck her. Nonchalance about sex was the best attitude, Doctor Bruce had said. She grinned. Taking hold of the hem of her mini, she lifted it slowly up her thighs, her belly, and over her tits, and then off her head. She dropped the dress, and looked from one to the other around the room. In heels and nylons, breasts bare and red pussy wedge showing through the panties, she was a provocative sight, she knew. She turned. Displaying the deep cleft up her plump bottom, grinding her hips, she started toward the master bedroom. She paused at the open door. "I'm going in to lie down," she called back. "Not because I'm tired, either." She stepped into the dark doorway, and paused again. "And there's plenty of room for whoever finally makes up their mind."

It was like the subway at rush hour, bodies crammed tight together. But this was a special trip, from reluctance to total commitment, the fare being as many cumloads as one could endure. Wendy quivered beneath Lew's forceful fucking. The belt had welted her bottom – hers and Tish's and Mummy's and Penny's. Now she watched Daddy's big, lovely dick drive up Tish's tight cunt; watched Mummy and Penny kneel to lick the two male assholes. The bed rocked, and the sound of labored breathing filled the room. Rub-a-dub-dub, she thought: two cocks and three cunts in a tubful of billowy bedding.

"Ahhhhh…" sighed Tish as the hands on her ass began to dig in. Her trim legs shot up, locking tight around the hips slamming meat up her pussy.

"I – ah! I told you, Lew," grunted Daddy, fucking like a bear running downhill. Wendy saw his fingernails cut into the tender halves of the girl's reddened bottom. "They all love it," he added, stoking faster, making his rod fuck in and out of her pussy. "Hurt 'em 'n' make 'em beg, 'n' every motherfucking one of 'em – ah! God, she's good! Beat 'em, Lew. Put a belt to their ass 'n' every cunt in the world'll open up for ya. All you have to do is take it, man. Show 'em who's boss. Make 'em give!"

"Um. I wish someone would make me give," said Penny. She stared longingly at the shaft dipping furiously in and out of her daughter's cunt. "I've got a cunt, too – in case nobody noticed."

"And me!" added Mummy, falling onto Lew's back, wrapping her arms around his broad chest and rubbing her loose pussy on the nuts bouncing above Wendy's sopping wet niche. The operation hadn't done her much good, thought Wendy. Her gash still displayed extra folds of slippery skin, and seemed to be deep enough to take a man's leg as well as his rod.

Lew glanced back at her, as if considering the possibilities. Wendy grew angry. It was her coming home party, she wanted to bellow. Hers! She tightened her cunthole to recapture the bastard's attention. She was drunk with desire: she needed cum! She hadn't been whipped in four years, hadn't tasted the delicious sting of the belt in all the time at the State Home, and now, her behind red and sore, her lungs and belly heaving for air, she thought for sure she'd die if Lew withdrew his prick for even a second. "Come to the head of the bed," she told Mummy. "So-oh! S-So I can lick you-your cunthole! Like we used to, Mummy. Only me 'n' Lew both this time. Hurry!"

"You said it," agreed Lew, driving in once more. "There's more than one fucking way, baby. I've got a tongue that's not doing a Goddamn thing."

Wendy moaned as Mummy complied, legs around her head, big, black sloppy bush dripping cream in her face. Panting, savoring the stink, wanting to suck it so bad her throat clogged with saliva, she cupped her small hands at the underside of the ass cheeks jiggling wildly above her. She watched Lew's sandpapery tongue lash up at the slit, and felt the melons resting in her palms tighten. Her own tongue flicked up the smelly ass crack, splitting the wide mother-ass in two.

Beside them, Daddy and Tish and Penny mimicked the union. The slurp-slurp of cunt-lapping was interspersed with the wet slosh of cocks fucking, bedsprings squeaking, sighs and moans. Pussyjuice flowed, spattered faces, dicks, and nuts and coarse cockhair. It was like she had once wished for, thought Wendy; it was as if she'd been taken apart and put back together, leaving out all except cunt and asshole and mouth. She was pussy from head to toe: top and bottom, inside and out. Nothing existed except the stiff prick up her belly, the cunt spewing gook, and the love noises.

They fucked until Lew and Daddy popped off, went limp, and pulled out. Then the men – darn them! Wendy protested mentally. Why couldn't they be like her, and fuck forever and ever without getting tired. Instead, they wanted to rest. They spoke in breathless whispers, hands exploring the four naked female bodies while she and Mummy and Tish and Penny were still dying to screw. Despite all she'd learned, all Doctor Bruce and the time at the home had taught her, she didn't think she'd ever really know men.

"One big happy family," said Daddy at last. He grinned widely at her. "Right, honey?"

"Ha! Some family," she countered.

Daddy frowned. Tish and Penny and Mummy stared wide-eyed at her. Lew stopped mouthing her nipples.

"Well, it's supposed to be my party," she blurted, sitting up between the two men. "I was the one who went away for five years and all, and, and – well, oh darn it! What I mean is I… I… oh heck!" She chewed her lip, looking helplessly from one to the other.

"I think I know," offered Daddy. As if controlled by one mind, all eyes glanced his way. "I think what she means is we should be concentrating on her," he added. "Like in the garage – right, Lew?"

"Right!"

Wendy brightened, so happy she thought for sure, she'd bust. She simply couldn't get enough fucking… Her fingers closed tightly about the limp pricks at either side of the bed. "Talk-talk-talk," she teased. "All I get is lots of brave talk and no…"

Daddy cut the half-hearted protest short by turning her suddenly onto her belly. "The belt!" he directed Lew. "What she needs is a few more stripes on her ass, and then a dick up both holes and a cunt or two in the face."

"N-No, Daddy," she objected, pretending to be the innocent girl who first took Lew's big, veiny cock in her cunt. "Not the belt. Please. D-Don't whip meee. Oh Daddy, no. No!"

It did her absolutely no good – it never had! But now she wanted the lash; she wanted the pain to course through her trembling loins, and ignite her nerve ends. She wanted the weight of the five sweaty bodies piled on top of her small frame, crushing the breath from her lungs, making the thrill of orgasm doubly good: superb!

She told them all so by arching her back, and pumping her hips to meet the cruel leather. "N-No more," she cried, spurring them on, making them so frantic to hurt her, to bruise her young, creamy flesh, that even Tish began to yank on her hair.

That Mummy and Penny grabbed one ankle each, spread her legs wide – wider than ever before – and began to stick their fingers up her hot cunthole. The juices flowed from her sex, the continuous orgasm washing her womb, the fiery thrills making her moan and thrash like a cute, red-headed goldfish dropped from the bowl. Then she was cuming and cuming and cuming, then cuming some more, long before the group thrashing ended, and Daddy and Lew rearranged her blissfully tortured limbs for the reentry.

"Man oh man! She sure as hell ain't protestin' now," observed Lew. Lying on his side close in front, hands splayed at the cheeks of her newly welted ass, he set his stiff dick near her cuntlips.

She couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't do more than raise one trembling leg over his thigh and dig sharp, anxious fingernails into his shoulders. She sobbed as the dickhead bored home – all the way up, up to her tonsils, it seemed, in one mighty lunge.

"She'll protest some when this fuckin' thing starts to go." Daddy came up behind, and set the awesome knob of his tool at her closed anus. "She'll yell blue, bloody murder until it goes in, but then…!" He drove forward, planting the fat, pulsing glans high in her rectum.

"Oh Daddy," Wendy sighed. "Daddy, Daddy do more. All of it. Up me. Up me!"

Now there was no reluctance, no pretense. She knew it was better when she shouted and cried – better for Daddy. But she was too caught up in the act to make believe anymore. She fucked her hips back, drawing the rest of the prick up her plump rear, then fucked forward, taking Lew back in to the hilt.

Back and forth she went, her belly becoming a cement mixer, a cum-hungry, wanton pussy. One cock dipped in while the other almost slipped free, and then the motion reversed. She was fucking so hard, so furiously and joyously, that her pussy was burning, she knew. Every cute curl on her mound was about to go up in smoke, leaving her swollen sex as pink and new as the cunt on the girl who used to sneak peeks at Daddy's picture fuckbook.

"Let me get in there," said Mummy, wedging herself between the front half of the union – ass mashed in Lew's face, cunthole in Wendy's.

"And I'll bring up the rear." Penny reversed the position, bottom churning against Wendy's hair, wet cunt in Sam's face.

"Hey!" balked Tish.

Wendy reached out, and tore a sigh from the other girl by curling her fingers through the clump of brown pubic hair and up her tight cunt sheath. There were no words to express the joy of her fulfillment. Fucking was wonderful, she thought, and so was smelling and licking and sucking… everything that went with joining naked bodies together in lust.

But what would she do if she had it to do allover again? asked the old Wendy. Would she willingly undergo the shame? The horrid degradation? Coke bottles and broomsticks and being used like an old dishrag?

The new Wendy hesitated only a moment, only as long as it took to move her mouth from Mummy's sopping wet sloppy bush, and cry, "Yes!"

"Huh?" Lew paused in mid-stroke, and looked over Mummy's hip at her.

Dad too paused, letting his big, lovely dick bask in the depths of her chute. "You – ah! You say something, honey?"

"Um!" she moaned, wiggling to get them started again. "I said 'Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, fucking, fucking, fucking yes!'"

The men took it to mean she was cuming – which she was. And cocks and cunts resumed churning, welcoming her home.

Content

Vincent Church
Degraded teenager

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN