'No,' I said, 'You'll kill me with that thing! Let me suck it for you.'
'When I want to fuck, I want to fuck!' he snarled, and he shafted me with his polo.
I screamed. I couldn't repress it no matter how much I wanted to. Alan's prick slammed into my cunt, searing my raw hole with its hot thickness, and I wanted to burst into flames from my clit to my womb. I screamed again when I felt that he was pulling back for a fresh stroke, and he clamped his elbow down upon my chest, cutting off my breath for a moment. My head swam from oxygen-denial. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think. By the time Alan lifted his bony elbow, he'd plugged me half a dozen times in rapid succession. My cunt was still in one piece, but his prick was testing its limits and I felt like a production-line lemon.
Under normal circumstances I might have salivated at the very thought of taking his cock up my cunt. Certainly the challenge would have been irresistible. But these weren't normal circumstances. No seduction, no persuasion, no mutual inclination. Alan had simply led me into the woods, told me what I must do for him, and now I was doing it.
If anything, this cemented my growing dislike for the male species. Oh, not all of them, maybe. I was certain that Lee Kinloch would have a better technique than this. The only trouble was that Alan might turn me off men so thoroughly I'd never take the time to give Lee a workout.
Alan fucked in and out of me, gasping as he thrust his cock to full insertion, sighing as he jerked it back for a fresh onslaught. Each of his plunging strokes lifted me off the grass where I lay, and I felt the spread labes of my pussy kissing and caressing the base of his dick and the dangling noose of his balls.
It must have been fantastically easy for him. After all, my cunt was bloody-wet inside and greasy as an oil- pan. He moaned as he slammed me back and forth, but that moaning must have been due to the tightness of my snatch. Alan's was the biggest cock I'd ever had in my cunt, definitely, and I wondered how long I could endure it.
His eyes were closed and, though his hands clutched me, they weren't fondling or caressing. He was merely holding onto my body as a brace for his strenuous fucking. I meant nothing to him as a person. I'd known that for some time now. I was just a handy cunt – a giant fist in which he could shuck his pecker before going to the gym for a workout.
That fuck tool of Alan's ravaged the insides of my cunt and I wished it in hell a million times over. My body jerked and writhed each time his prick pushed into me, and my cunt was sopping with spilled menstrual blood. Jesus, I could smell it wafting up from down there into my nostrils. The way he fucked me I couldn't help moving and twitching, and he must have thought it was turning me on, because he muttered, 'Oh, yeah, baby – yeah – shake your ass, Pat…'
'Pam,' I corrected, finding my voice as he fucked me savagely and deeply. 'Oh, Christ, I'm too sore! Why don't you quit it?'
'You – don't feel – sore – to me…' he grunted.
'Ouch!' I screamed shrilly, trying to prove that sore was what it was all about. Alan cuffed me hard alongside the cheek and I blinked back a hot burning tear. I didn't want to yell again. I could sense that he'd given me but a warning tap.
'Jesus, you're tight,' he complimented between stabs. 'You a virgin or something?'
Hell of a time to be asking that! 'No, I'm not!' I gasped, feeling a particularly deep stab. Sometimes it's like heaven when a dick plays around the mouth of your womb. If the owner of the dick knows what he's doing. Alan didn't know much about screwing, in my opinion. He just lay on me, fucking his rocks off. And he smashed the end of my cunt the same way he tried to shove his cock down my throat – without the slightest consideration for me or my feelings. His cock was just a big pole moving around inside me, no brains, no plan, and the only thing I could hope for was that he'd be finished soon.
The ramming of Alan's pecker pulled and jerked my cunt, of course, but I could scarcely feel it. Mostly I just hurt. He hadn't done much to warm me up. He'd almost strangled me with his cock in my mouth, and he'd used his finger on my pussy, but that was it. The rest was the old routine – crawl on top and stick it in. I don't like that a bit. If I have sex with someone, I like to know that I'm a respected, desired part of the encounter. I like to be made love to, not just thrown and dicked. If only Lilly were here. She and I had taken six months of karate lessons last year and she remembered everything. She could give this bastard a chop that would separate his cock and his nuts for all time, and she'd laugh in his fucking face afterward. I wished I were Lilly. I wished I were balling Lilly right now, instead of being screwed by this basketball-playing goon.
'Hurry up,' I snapped. 'Your hot breath is making my eyeshadow run.'
He mustn't have been used to getting lip from his girls – except for the kind of lip that melted around his peter. He called me a rotten name I won't spoil the paper with, and he began to fuck me faster. Of course it hurt – I wanted to spit him right out of my cunt and drip blood on him – but it was a sign that he should be finished soon, and thank God for that.
'Unh-unh-unh,' he grunted, and his pecker slammed my box in hard, fast strokes. On the last one his body stiffened where it lay atop mine, and I felt him begin to unload his nuts. The hot cum squirted and sprayed inside me – I could feel each drop as it splattered from the tip of his prick – and it began to seep from the lips of my snatch as he pulled back to shoot me with even more. But his cock was losing its hardness, too – it was going slack even while it shot seed, and I sighed in relief.
Allan collapsed atop me then, sighing with fucked-out contentment. His body was long and powerful still, but he was weak from his release and I pushed him off me with no problem at all. He fell onto the ground with a snarl and he gave me a dirty look. I gave him the finger in reply and I pulled up my pants. My cunt was sopping with spilled blood and scum, and I couldn't bear to look at it.
'Get out of here!' I told him. 'I don't want to see you when I opened up my eyes again.'
He crawled towards me. 'You fucking cunt!' he growled. 'I should have stuck it up your asshole instead.'
'You and who else, you overgrown pimple?'
He showed me who else then, when he belted me in the face. My cheek stung with the blow and I could taste blood on my lips where I'd bitten myself in surprise. His hand drew back to hit me again, and all I could do in defense was to close my eyes and scream the heavens down upon his head. It was a good scream, better than Fay Wray's in King Kong. The underbrush crackled, not far away, and a voice called out words I couldn't quite understand. Man made a gulping sound and he stood up fast, pulling up his pants as he did. He started running while he was still buckling his belt, and in the process he nearly had a head-on collision with a lady in a straw hat and artist's smock. She seemed somehow familiar, and then I remembered tat we'd seen her painting by the old riverbed.
She elbowed Alan aside and made straight for me. I sat up and pulled my undone halter shut just as she knelt beside me.
To begin, she wasn't a lady. No nasty meant there. But she was young, in her middle twenties, I supposed. Her hair was long, the color of spun gold, and her heart-shaped face was full of concern. For me? Who else? I asked myself.
'Are you all right?' she asked me, touching my shoulder. 'Is there anything I can do?'
I shook my head. 'I'm okay.'
'Did he rape you?' she asked indignantly.
'Huh?'
She pointed to the front of my shorts. The mess from my pussy had leaked through, and there was a big purple-red stain on the pale yellow fabric. 'Oh, shit!' I groaned.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She wasn't my rescuer – she hadn't come in time to save me from anything – but she was upset and I could sense that she somehow cared about me. Of course, it looked worse than it really was. 'The blood's menstrual,' I said resignedly, staring at the big red smear. 'My aunt is gonna shit when she sees that.'
Her hand patted my shoulder in a consoling gesture and I felt our hearts meeting somewhere in the space between our bodies. I had no control over that, none at all. It was as natural and automatic as the daily routine of
