was face fucking her as hard as he could. Every ounce of energy locked up in his hips was unleashed. His cock was a long battering ram of flesh.
No matter how she turned, it was there hard and shoving into her face. Her tongue worked furiously on the underside of his prick. The tiny flap of skin dangling under the cleft head of his cock was her target. She knew how sensitive that was.
She'd gotten Grant off in less than a minute by tonguing that. But the boy was so inexperienced. This stud had had the best women in the world sucking on his prick – if you believed him. He was an expert, not some kid just learning the ways of fucking and sucking.
'Go, baby, go! God, I – oh, shiiit!'
She felt his prick stiffen even more. It was just a matter of seconds before the hot rush of his cum blasted into her mouth.
Her entire body went tense as his fingers clamped like steel bands on her tit. He was threatening to pull it off her chest. When he took the rock-hard nipple between thumb and forefinger, the hot lances of desire shooting like rockets into her chest took her breath away.
She was so confused! She was actually beginning to enjoy this. But that wasn't possible. He was abusing her. He was making her feel like less than a human being. No matter what it took to degrade her, he was willing to do it.
She hated him. And she didn't want either his cock or his hand to leave her tender young body.
'My balls are aching, kid. Suck good. I can feel the come moving down the length of my prick. Gonna be, ummm, ohhh! Gonna be a second, then, powie! It'll all be yours!'
She sucked harder as his hand tightened on her jug. She squirmed and tried to release some of the pressure on her tit. It wasn't possible. He wasn't going to let her go until he had gotten his rocks off.
The nipple throbbed with a life of its own. Her cunt was beginning to water. She felt her nightie growing damper and damper where it rested against her crotch. This entire forced sucking was turning her on!
She hated herself. She hated him. And she sucked even harder.
When the blast of cum splattered into her mouth, she missed the first load. It arced back and hit her in the tonsils. The second, however, she smeared all over her tongue. She wanted to taste the salty, tangy, slightly acrid manseed spewing from his cock.
He groaned louder as his cock convulsively fountained out the load held for so long in his balls. His once mighty prick died. He fell from her mouth, flaccid.
She licked the last of his pearly white cum from her lips, then sank back to her bed. His hand finally left her tit. She was aching and uptight and confused.
'You done real good, kid, I like a girl who knows how to follow orders. I'd better get back to your mother. She's probably wondering where her lover boy has gone. Don't want to disappoint her, do we?'
With that, Jonathon was gone.
For hours, Melissa lay in the bed, plotting revenge on this strange man who could make her love and hate more ferociously than she'd ever done in her brief sixteen years of life.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Melissa was too frightened to tell anyone about her new stepfather and his antics. She knew he was a violent man. He had proven that on any number of occasions. Asking around among people who knew Jonathon had given her a grim picture of the man.
He was a barroom brawler and used the knife liberally. It didn't matter to him what the odds were when he was drunk. The more the merrier seemed to be his motto.
He liked to hurt people. And Melissa was totally at his mercy. If she made a single slip and mentioned what he'd done to her, there was no telling what he might do to her.
All the various options open to her were mentally wrestled with and discarded. The best idea seemed to be running away from home. She was sixteen. She could look after herself. She didn't have any particular skills but if worse came to worse, she could always go out and hook.
It wasn't the kind of occupation she would enjoy, but it would be better than starving to death.
Or being humiliated to death by Jonathon. Melissa heard her mother and Jonathon fucking in the house on the living room floor. She had an urge to go in and pour boiling water on the man's prick and see how long he could keep his erection then. But she wouldn't. The man would certainly retaliate and do something she couldn't avoid. The ideas of what he was capable of doing poured though her mind and made her shiver with fear.
She seemed locked into this prison she'd once called a home. Why had her mother gone and married that bastard? If only they'd shacked up a while, then when they'd gotten tired of each other, they could have simply split. The girl could understand that. But to get married?
If was stark stupidity and, she was caught dead center of it.
She sat in the lawn chair in the backyard watching the sun go down. Melissa heard the car start and back out the driveway. Turning, she saw her mother driving away down the street. She wondered what was happening. Probably nothing more than Jonathon getting thirsty and sending his trusting wife out for some booze.
The alternatives chilled her to the bone. It could be that Jonathon wanted something a bit younger wrapped around his cock. And she was alone here with the man.
The teenager started to get up and slide over the wall. But it was too late. The crunch of gavel behind her told her she had company, unwanted company. It was as she feared. Jonathon had come out to be with her.
'There you are, kid. Come on into the house. I want to have a few words with you.'
'I've got nothing to say to you.'
'I'm getting horny. I want some action. And I'll just bet a pretty young girl like you could use some fucking right around now, too.'
'Not from you.'
Strong hands pulled her from the chair. She was pushed toward the house with rough shoves. She went along. How could she possibly fight off such a strong man?
'Inside,' he ordered her again. She could see the huge bulge forming at the crotch of his pants. There was no doubt in her mind what he had in mind. He was going to rape her again.
It would have to be rape. She'd never willingly submit to a sex-starved beast like him.
'Let's go to your bedroom. I like the decor there.'
'Go to hell.'
'Hell, no. I'm going to fuck you. And that can't be hell, no sir. Not with a tight cunt like you got, kid.'
She tried to run. She didn't get very far before he slammed her against the wall. Twisting her around, he peered down into her frightened face.
With his strong beer-breath, he snorted, 'What's wrong with you? You're no virgin, though Heaven knows you got a damned tight cunt. What'sa matter with fucking with your old man, huh?'
He was just drunk enough that the words were beginning to slur but not so drunk that she could fight him and hope to win. Resigned, she simply said, 'If you have to ask, there's no way I could possible tell you.'
'Good. Let's get it on!'
He pushed her into her bedroom and closed the door. He opened his fly and let the nine inch cock snap to rigid attention. The ugly red fuck stick caught and held the young girl's eyes. That cock was hypnotizing her like a snake charms a bird.
No matter how hard she tried to look away, she couldn't. The thought of what that prick was going to do to her sent cold tremors through her lithe young body. She didn't want him fucking her – and yet she did. The confusion scrambling her mind helped paralyze her. She wanted that cock and she hated the man and she felt her cunt overflowing with lust and she wanted to run.
All held her a slave of indecision.
It was all it took for him to cross the room and roughly grab her. He threw her down onto the bed. She rocked back and forth as the springs took up the shock of her landing. Somehow, she landed with her feet flat on the bed, her knees spread just wide enough apart for the man to be able to see the tiny wet spot rapidly growing
