BH-6504  Willing Virgin
[aka 'Diane's Pain Lessons' or 'Diane's Lessons In Bondage' or 'Harmed And Dangerous']
by Warren Bisig


INTRODUCTION 

The question of guilt dates back to, and is inextricably bound up with, the 
very beginning of humanity's history. Was Eve guilty for taking the first 
bite of the apple--or for tempting Adam to take his first bite? Was the 
serpent who tempted Eve in the first place the original guilty party? A few 
years later, did Cain become the first actual criminal when he killed his 
brother Abel? 

In modern psychiatric terms, do any of these questions have any real 
meaning? 

In the thinking of at least one contemporary authority, these questions call 
for a good deal of re-examination. Nicholas N. Kittrie, S.J.D., Director of 
the Institute for Studies in Justice and Social Behavior of The American 
University Law School, in an article published in Federal Probation 
magazine, had these pertinent comments to make: 

"Guilt is a legal concept, not a scientific fact. In modern society it is 
the function of courts of law, rather than witch doctors, legislatures, or 
bureaucrats to decree guilt and innocence and to assess punishment upon 
those found guilty. Today's method for finding guilt consists of an 
elaborate legal ritual, called trial, where witnesses come forward like 
actors in a play to give evidence. It is from this evidence that guilt of 
innocence is distilled. While the measure of punishment is typically left to 
the discretion of judges, the determination of guilt has been delegated to 
juries both by early English legislation and the American Constitution. It 
is thus one's own peers who must weigh the evidence and decide the 
probability of guilt--whether it has been proven beyond a reasonable doubt. 

"Evidence is whatever courts consider proper and relevant for the weighing 
and determination of criminal guilt. Trial by fire--where guilt was proved 
by the accused's inability to put out the flames set by him, or by bitter 
waters, where the wife's infidelity was established by the swelling of her 
belly after drinking the testing concoction--were not uncommon until the 
Middle Ages. Trial by combat was another popular means for weighing evidence 
and determining guilt. Those not guilty were expected to prove their 
innocence through an armed victory over their accusers. 

"Trials through witnesses go back to Biblical times. Yet one might assert 
that it was Europe's Age of Reason, with its emphasis upon communications 
and the rationality of man, which accounts for the emergence of the modern 
trial--where words rather than acts of faith take preeminence. In the courts 
of America proof is usually made today through either verbal testimony or 
demonstrative evidence. Most frequently, an eye witness will describe what 
he saw or heard. Occasionally, the murder weapon, including fingerprints, 
the forged paper, or the clothing of the suspect, may be introduced at the 
trial as demonstrative proof. Any one of these types of evidence may also be 
classified as either direct or circumstantial. Direct evidence means that 
the witness in fact saw the very fact he describes; circumstantial evidence 
relates only indirectly to the facts that need be proved. A witness who did 
not observe a burglary, yet who testifies to the accused's spending an 
unusual amount of money shortly thereafter, is offering circumstantial 
evidence." 

We could quote further, but we think this is sufficient to establish the 
confused nature of the situation. Innocence or guilt is, obviously, not 
always a clear-cut and obviously defined decision. And the novel you are 
about to read, Diane's Lessons in Bondage by Warren Bisig, while highly 
successful on its own terms as an entertaining story, is an excellent 
illustration of this important point. 

Diane, the novel's heroine, is obviously an innocent young girl. As the 
story opens, she finds herself face to face with a gang of armed thugs, who 
deliberately rob her uncle's jewelry store. To compound their guilt, they 
beat the uncle into insensibility, kidnap Diane, and immediately assault, 
rape, and torture her. 

It seems perfectly obvious that they are guilty--and she is innocent. Yet is 
this completely true? 

It would be a mistake for anyone to try to answer this crucial question 
before reading the entire story, weighing all the facts, and thinking 
seriously about his conclusions. The reader, while enjoying the book, should 
consider himself a member of a jury. There is a distinct possibility that 
Diane has deliberately provoked the situation in which she finds herself... 
or, at best, that she leads the hoodlums on into acts they would not have 
done otherwise. In the final analysis, how much of the guilt does she have 
to share? 

It is up to you, the reader, to decide for yourself. And whatever your 
conclusions, we are sure you are in for a stimulating, thought-provoking 
experience. 

The Publishers 

 Chapter One 

"Scream 'n' I'll blow a big ugly hole in that nice fat tittie." 

Diane, hazel eyes blinking disbelief, mouth agape, stared at the man wearing 
the nylon stocking over his head. He was tall, well-built, and the 
blue-steel gun in his hand looked to be a foot long. 

"Don't try anything cute, Pops." The short man, the one wearing a red 
bandanna over the lower part of his face, used his gun to wave Uncle John 
behind the long display counter. His eyes, like nuggets of coal, darted from 
Uncle John to Diane. "On the floor, girlie," he barked. 

Bug-eyed, Diane stared down the barrel of the second man's gun. This kind of 
thing happened only in movies, she thought. Yet there they were; broad 
daylight, her second week out of high school and the first week on the job 
in Uncle John's jewelry store. And it wasn't a joke. There was no humor in 
the eyes of the short, stocky man, and no eyes at all in the face beneath 
the nylon stocking. 

"Down!" snapped the short man. 

"Do like he says," directed Uncle John. Then to the man: "Take whatever you 
want, but don't hurt my niece. She's... she's only sixteen. A baby." 

"How about that?" The short man, obviously the spokesman, glanced sharply to 
his cohort. "Hear what the man said, Skeet? A baby! Sixteen! Bet she's got 
some good hot cunt, too." Looking back to Diane, eyeing her long, 
white-blonde hair, he asked, "You got blonde hair on your pussy, too, 
girlie?" 

Diane felt the blood rush into her face. Her belly tightened. "You... you... 
you're horrible!" she managed, feeling an invisible hand clamp over her 
vulva. She did, indeed, have white-blonde curls down there. But they were 
curls no man had seen: a prize she was saving for Mr. Right. She watched the 
short man smile, walk leisurely around the end of the display counter, shove 
past Uncle John and stop... the muzzle of the gun inches from her round 
belly. Her heart raced. Was he going to kill her, she wondered. She looked 
helplessly into the dark unblinking eyes above the bandanna. 

"You got a fresh mouth, girlie." The man's hand snaked out and cracked loud 
against her cheek. 

"Ow!" Diane staggered back. It was so unreal. And now, the sting of the slap 
spreading like fire through her face, she watched-as an observer watches a 
group of play actors-Uncle John spring at the man, saw the other man's gun 
reach across the counter and send her uncle, unconscious, to the floor. 

"Get the registers, Skeet," growled the short man. Then to her: "Since you 
don't like the floor, girlie, get a bag 'n' collect the best ice or I'll put 
you to sleep like Pops here." He waved the formidable gun over Uncle John's 
crumpled form. "If yer a real good girlie," he added, leering, "I may even 
let you carry the stuff to the car." 

It was a dream: a bad dream! she told herself. But the wind in her face was 
real. And the squealing of tires as the car swept through the outskirts of 
the city, tipping as they turned corners, headed toward the Palos Verdes 
Hills, was no mere nightmare. Ten minutes before it had been a casual, 
California spring day. Now? 

She cringed between Skeet and the short man; whose name, she'd learned since 
stepping into the back seat of the getaway car, was Tony. She felt Tony's 
big hand high on her thigh... rough... kneading the tender flesh close to 
her pussy. Not breathing, lungs refusing to work, she watched the last of 
the city whiz by, saw the driver steer them into the green rolling hills, 
and knew, before the day ended, the lovely blonde wedge between her slim 
legs would be violated. 

The small log cabin sat high on a tree-studded hill: a perfect hideout, she 
thought, as the car stopped in a cavelike space hacked out of the thick 
brush. The police would search and search. Her braless breasts ached. The 
thin mini-dress felt scratchy against her taut nipples. They'd search, 
perhaps call in the F.B.I., and never, not in a lifetime, think of looking 
here. She was frightened: more afraid than she'd ever been. These men-Tony 
and Skeet, and the other man, Sammy, the driver-could do what they chose 
with and to her. "L-let me g-go," she whispered. "Please." 

Tony's laugh was cruel. "No way, girlie." The hand on her thigh shot up 
between her legs. 

"Oh, don't. Dooon't!" Trying to hold her legs closed, she balled her small 
hands into fists and pounded his broad, muscular chest. But the fingers were 
strong. And as she struggled, as the driver and Skeet stepped from the car, 
Tony's hand cupped her pussy. She gasped. She twisted and tried to break 
free of the steel-like arm around her shoulders. The fingers dug in... 
forcing the white nylon panties up her tight slit. "OWWWWW! Oh, don't, 
please!" 

Tony relented. The bandanna like a bib around his bull neck, dark face 
flushed, he removed his hand from her pussy and dragged her from the car. 
"This is it, baby," he said. Then to Skeet and Sammy: "You guys cover the 
car, brush over the tire tracks and camouflage the road in. Me 'n' Miss 
Girlie here got us a date in the back room." 

Inside, the cabin was pleasant enough: two bedrooms at back, a wide front 
room with a fireplace, and a tiny kitchen off to one side. Under different 
circumstances, thought Diane, head spinning as Tony shoved her toward one of 
the bedrooms, she might even enjoy spending a few days here. But now, no 
longer any doubt in her mind concerning her fate, the place was hideous. She 
stumbled into the small, dimly lit bedroom, was flung onto the bed, and lay 
trembling. Terrified, she watched Tony close and lock the door and come 
toward her. 

"I... I'll scream!" she threatened, coming off the bed and trying to dodge 
past him. "I'll yell so loud they'll hear me back in L.A." 

"Holler yer fuckin' head off," taunted Tony. 

Diane shrieked. She bellowed so loud she thought sure her lungs were going 
to burst from the effort. She screamed and backed into the night table, 
tipping the lamp, and watched her tormentor advance... maneuvering her into 
a corner... grinning as he trapped her at the head of the huge, feather bed. 

Tony waited until she stopped screaming. Then his big calloused hand covered 
her left breast, and the hard thing, the cock which seemed to be a foot 
long, dug into her crotch. "You never answered my question, baby," he 
rumbled close to her face. "About your pussy, I mean. Whether it's blonde or 
black or what. Guess I'll just have to see for myself." 

Again Diane shrieked. But it was useless, she knew. They were hidden away in 
the middle of nowhere, with only Skeet and Sammy to hear her cries. She 
closed her eyes and bit her lip as the hand on her breast slipped down, over 
her belly. "Oh, don't. DON'T. DON'T!" she sobbed. 

"Don't what, girlie? Don't do this?" Tony's hand slipped beneath the hem of 
the mini. His fingers dug brutally into her hot pussy. 

"OWWWWW!" She felt the nylon being shifted... felt the eager cigarlike 
finger burrowing between her tight cuntlips. She gripped his thick wrist. 
With tiny, inadequate hands, she fought to stop him. "Not that. No! Nooo! 
I... I'm v-v-virgin!" 

Tony growled-a hungry bear. Hand working between the girl's soft, creamy 
thighs, he kissed her neck. With his free hand, he gripped the neck of the 
minidress... yanked! "A fuckin' cherry!" he choked. "A motherfuckin' pretty 
little blonde bitch like you. We'll take care of that, baby. Don't you 
worry. There won't be nothin' left cherry when I'm done." 

Shaking, body rigid, Diane heard the dress rip. She felt the cool rush of 
air-woodsy air from the broken pane in the window beside the bed- on her 
naked breasts. She felt the hard thing stabbing in and out of her vulva, and 
the harder, longer, more awesome thing against her young thigh. Oh God! she 
thought. Someone! She was about to be raped. Her virgin pussy, the precious 
little hole she'd been saving to give to her husband on their wedding night, 
was about to be ravished: ripped open like the halves of the dress hanging 
on either side of her ripe, pink and white breasts. 

The panties came next. Slipping his fingers from her moist cunthole, Tony 
took hold of the waistband. Again he yanked. Again the terrible sound of 
material being shredded tore through the room. "Holy sweet fuck. Lookit that 
pretty snatch," he croaked, staring as if mesmerized at the wedge of silky 
blonde curls atop and between the girl's lovely legs. "Jesus shit! You got a 
gold mine there, girlie. A fuckin' sunken treasure." 

Diane held her eyes tightly shut and tried to think herself back in Uncle 
John's jewelry store. She was there, behind the display counter, before the 
armed thugs came in. But Uncle, too, she recalled, had developed a hard 
thing in his pantsleg. They'd been doing the inventory... she standing in 
the narrow aisle behind the counter... he rubbing against her each time he 
went from one end of the counter to the other. He'd made too many trips, it 
seemed. And she'd felt him, his cock, digging stiff into her soft ass each 
time he squeezed by. His thing had been almost as hard, almost as long, 
almost as awe-inspiring as the dick Tony now pressed to the mouth of her 
wedge. 

Diane's eyes shot open. "Oh, nooo!" she wailed, suddenly aware that Tony had 
taken it out of his pants, and was trying-Oh, God! How he was trying!-to 
force the fat tip, the purple-red, fiery, nozzle-shaped glans up her pussy. 

Whimpering, trying to fight him off, Diane clawed at his dark-almost 
brutishly handsome, she had to admit-face. Tony caught both her slim wrists 
in one huge hand. And, as if she were a rag doll, a thing to be used, swept 
her off her feet, one strong arm around her waist, and dropped her, like so 
many more feathers, onto the feather bed. On hands and knees, she tried to 
scramble away. He caught her ankle. She felt herself being dragged on her 
belly to the edge of the mattress. She felt her legs, her feet, drop to the 
floor. She felt the rough hand digging into her buttocks... spreading her 
cheeks, her thighs... opening her most secret parts to hungry eyes. She 
glanced back, gasped. He was undoing his pants... pushing the pants and 
shorts down his thick, hairy legs. And his dick, the big rigid thing 
standing straight out from a mass of black cockhair, was jerking and pulsing 
-anxious to be sheathed in her small round belly, she knew. 

"Kinda dig it, huh?" Stepping out of the shorts and pants, clad only in a 
T-shirt, shoes, and socks, Tony took hold of his prick at the roots and 
shook the bloated monster at the terrified girl. "You'll like it even better 
once it's up you... in yer pussy. Almost a foot of hot meat, girlie. Enough 
to bust yer cherry three times over." He took hold of the hem of the 
minidress at her waist and tore the last shred of covering from the pink and 
white vulnerable body jack-knifed over the edge of the bed. 

Fright had turned her legs to jelly. There was no resistance left when, 
after stripping the T-shirt off over his head, Tony fell heavily to his 
knees behind her. She felt his huge hands high on the insides of her 
thighs... spreading her open... making her front and rear hole more 
accessible. She sobbed, chewed her lower lip, and waited for the terrible 
pain of penetration. Yet despite her fear, her revulsion, there were 
butterflies batting excited wings in her belly. She'd often wondered what it 
was like. Fucking! A stiff hunk of man-meat sliding in and out of her wedge. 
But not in the back! she pleaded mentally. God! God! The front was tight, so 
tight. But she'd die if he tried to shove his big thing, his swipe-wasn't 
that what the boys at school had called it?-up her little backside. 

"Hot as a fuckin' oven." Using two fingers on each hand, Tony opened the fat 
little lips of her cunt. He rocked from knee to knee, inching closer. 
"What's yer name, girlie? Tell me yer name." 

"D-D-Diane." 

"Yeah. Hold tight, Diane. Ole Tony's got somethin' big 'n' hard. Somethin' 
nice. Somethin' all the little girls like up in 'em." 

"I'll do anything," cried Diane. "Anything else if you dooowwWWWWWW..." 

It was too late. Tony was beyond hearing her entreaties, she knew. She 
twisted and gasped, clawed the bedspread, jerked her head from side to side, 
and felt the bulbous head of his dick pressing into her, opening the lips of 
her pussy. "Oh God, stoooooop! It... it's t-too b-b-big. You... you... OW, 
YOU'RE K-KILLING MEEEEEE!" 

"Good. Good stuff. Jesus, it's tight. Um! Good fuckin' tight young stuff." 
Taking hold of her hips, Tony pulled back, until only the glans was embedded 
in her hot, white-blonde pussy and thrust. 

Diane felt an excruciating stab of pain in her belly as the swollen head of 
his sex butted her maidenhead. She thrashed... trying to climb onto the 
bed... trying to escape the stiff thing boring relentlessly into her tiny 
love hole. She made incoherent noises; strange, strangled animal sounds, 
alien to her ears. The room spun. Multicolored rockets shot off in her head. 
Yet the awesome thing, Tony's long, thick dick, refused to relent. It pulled 
back again, thrusted, was repelled by the elasticlike barrier, and thrusted 
harder and harder and harder. 

Then suddenly the fat pulsing meat was gone from her vulva. Was it over, she 
wondered. So soon? Had he done whatever men did: shot off without breaking 
the barrier, and without her being aware of the cream men were said to emit 
when they came? 

"Get yer cunt up on the bed," directed Tony in a strained voice. "Gotta do 
this scientific... put a pillow under yer ass 'n' go in frontways." Without 
waiting for her to comply, he lifted her legs and threw her full length on 
the bed. 

Diane bounced. Then she was on her back, and Tony, kneeling between her 
gaped open legs, was forcing a doubled-up pillow under her hips. She saw his 
magnificent-No! she thought. Not magnificent! Ugly!-cock jerking above her 
sweet little bush. It was wet. The purple-red tip glistened with clear fluid 
from her cunthole. And veiny. Veins all over the shaft: blue wiggly things 
beneath the loose jacket of skin that ended in a crewneck at the throbbing 
glans. Her cunt tightened. She couldn't tear her gaze from the long hard 
thing. 

"Yeah. That should do it, baby." Tony bent, face close to her sex. "Now I 
can see yer soldier. What it needs is a little coaxin'. A tongue lick or 
two." 

His hot breath made her shiver. She felt his lips at the tiny bud protruding 
from her hot cuntlips, and moaned. What was wrong with her, she wondered. 
She was being raped, forcefully taken, violated, ravished by a thug. Her 
tight virgin vulva still ached from the partial penetration of a moment 
before. Yet her body was reacting as it reacted when she necked... when she 
allowed special dates, extra nice boys, to pet her titties, or get atop her, 
in the back seat of a car, and ride and hump until the pleasure of coming 
contorted their faces. Her cherry was about to be taken by a brute! A 
criminal! she reminded herself. And yet... his stiffness held her attention, 
as if it were a big lollipop, and she was a hungry little girl anxious to 
suck him off. "No more," she made herself say. "No! No! No! No! NOOO!" 

"Shuddup!" Again, as in the store, Tony's huge hand shot out and cracked 
loud against her face. "Fuckin' cunts're all alike. Wanna be persuaded? 
Okay!" He slapped her again. And back the other way. "Now open yer pussy, 
bitch. Raise her knees 'n' help me get it in." 

Tears smarting in her eyes, throat tight, Diane obeyed. She raised her 
knees, spread her legs wide, chewed her lip and watched the thick cylinder 
of meat held tight in Tony's hairy hand. She watched him come down on her, 
watched him set the fat tip at the mouth of her pussy once more. Then she 
closed her eyes and tried not to think, not to feel. She clutched the 
bedspread. She listened to the sound of the breeze in the treetops 
outside... trying not to hear his labored breathing... trying to make 
herself an object apart from herself. 

"That's... ahhh! That's it, girlie, Diane. Relax. Yeah. Yeah, baby, that's 
good." 

It was no use. She couldn't ignore it; couldn't not feel the hotness, the 
stiffness. She opened her eyes and watched breathlessly as the lengthy-so 
incredibly long-meat swipe inched up her pussy... parting the blonde 
curls... going in, in. She dropped her knees out sideways, opening her tight 
cunthole even more. Her body knew instinctively what to do. It reacted. She 
held tight to the bedspread, dug in with her feet, and watched until the 
pain ripped through her belly. Then she humped. Gritting her teeth, she 
thrusted her ass up off the pillow, using all the strength in her hips, and 
drew the fat throbbing dick through the thin membrane. 

"Motherfucker!" gasped Tony. 

"Don't hurt me," she whispered. "D-do it, but be gentle. It... it feels like 
a b-baseball bat in me. 

"Shuddup 'n' fuck!" Tony reached for her breasts. His fingers dug cruelly 
into the succulent, tender young flesh. 

"Ohhh! You... you're h-hurting me." 

"You ain't seen nothin' yet, baby. Get yer ass workin' or else. Fuck that 
sweet blonde pussy aroun' some. Fuck it up into me. Fuck!" 

Diane moaned as he took her nipples between thumb and forefinger and 
squeezed. Tentatively she moved her hips. Round and round. Up and down on 
his manhood. He was hurting her, wracking her trembling body with pain. Yet 
she lifted her ass off the pillow and fucked her white-blonde pussy, her 
tight cunthole, onto his cock. Her hands released their hold on the wrinkled 
bedspread... fluttering... reaching for his broad, muscular shoulders. No! 
she scolded herself. She mustn't let him know that aside from the pain there 
was something, something exquisite, something indescribably good happening 
inside her belly. 

She closed her eyes, chewed her lip and clawed the bedspread. She fucked her 
cunt up at him. She felt his big dick begin to piston faster and faster, in 
and out, and thought, God! It was as if she'd waited all her life for this 
moment! As if nothing else mattered. As if her cunthole, her sweet little 
blonde pussy, was ablaze with a fire which never would go out. Never be 
quenched. As if her young, straining, newly awakened body would never again 
be whole without long, hard, brutally demanding man-meat inside it. 

 Chapter Two 

She'd slept. Now she heard them, her kidnappers, in the next room... 
laughing, clicking glasses. She shivered. The sun was almost gone, and the 
breeze, coming through the broken pane in the window, was cooler, soothing. 
Escape! she thought. The woods! 

But her body ached. The tiny hole between her bruised thighs felt as if 
someone had hammered a railroad spike up her belly. Her titties were sore. 
And her head felt as if there were a rock band inside, with fourteen 
electric guitars and too many drums. 

"Leave 'er sleep awhile." 

Quickly Diane closed her eyes and forced her body rigid, as Sammy, despite 
Tony's words, came to the bedroom door and peered in. "Man!" breathed Sammy. 
"That's some piece, boss. I can feel her heat from here." 

Diane felt the man's hungry eyes on her body. She wanted to cover herself, 
to hide the burning flesh Tony had left behind. But she dared not move. She 
commanded her body to be still. Her limbs trembled. Oh God! she thought. Her 
body was going to give her away... make him know she wasn't asleep. And once 
they knew that, once Sammy and the others knew she was faking, they'd come 
in-perhaps all three at once -and she'd be forced to endure another horrible 
union. The thought made her tremble even more. Go away! she screamed 
mentally. Oh, please go away and leave me be! 

As if having heard the girl's silent plea, Sammy said, "Guess you're right, 
boss. We'll leave 'er sleep for a while so she'll be nice 'n' sassy later. 
But, man! She sure is one fine piece of young pussy." 

Breathless, unable to believe her good fortune, Diane squinted at the door. 
It was closing. Actually closing! Sammy was leaving the room and giving her 
the chance she needed to escape. She waited until the gruff laughter began 
anew. Then, moving cautiously, inch by inch, she gathered the shreds of 
clothing at the foot of the bed, covered herself, and moved silently to the 
small window. 

"You hear something?" Tony set his glass down and glanced sharply toward the 
bedroom where the girl was supposed to be sleeping. 

"Glass," replied Sammy. 

Tony listened hard. The sound came again: the faint tinkle of shreds of 
glass falling to earth. The window! he thought, envisioning the broken pane 
in the next room. "Dumb bastard!" he roared, tipping the table and Sammy as 
he bolted from the chair. "What'd you close the goddamn door for?" 

Tony stepped into the bedroom in time to see Diane's lovely leg disappear 
out the window. "Outside!" he called to Sammy. He hesitated a moment. Then, 
cursing his own stupidity for having left the girl alone, he followed her 
out into the deep green shadows of twilight. Again he hesitated, squinting 
into the near-darkness. He heard the rustling of bushes, the crunch of 
leaves underfoot. He crouched-the hunter stalking his prey-his cock growing 
hard in anticipation of what he would do once he got his hands on the lush 
little blonde with a cunt hotter and tighter than any he'd had before. 

Heart racing, Diane found a pocket of brush and lay still. Oh, why hadn't 
she been more careful! she chastised herself. But she was so anxious to get 
out the window, to escape, she'd forgotten the broken pane, and now, the 
highway, freedom, a mere few hundred yards away, they were after her. 

She hugged the ground, tried not to breathe, to make herself small. She 
could imagine herself being found and dragged by the hair back to the cabin. 
What would they do to her? she wondered. Beat her? She could almost feel 
Tony's thick belt whapping cruelly against her quivering buttocks. And her 
tight little pussy. What horrible thing would Tony and the others do to it 
next? 

An involuntary sob escaped her throat. She burrowed deeper into the cool 
crinkly leaves covering the ground. Yet despite her fear, the revulsion she 
felt, the excited butterflies were back in her belly. She could almost feel 
the hard length of a swipe up her hole... rough hands kneading her 
breasts... a-muscular male body slamming furiously into her tender young 
flesh, making her moan and thrash, wanting more. 

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a shiny black leather boot stomped down on her 
hand. "I got 'er, boss," hollered Sammy. "Over here." 

Whimpering, Diane pulled her hand free, leaped up and tried to flee. But she 
had gone no more than three feet when two steel claws closed about her slim 
waist. "No! Oh, nooo!" she cried, striking out blindly. 

"A fuckin' wild one, you are. Man!" Sammy pulled the girl hard against him. 
He trapped her arms, pressed his stiffening member into the torn minidress 
covering her buttocks. "What you wanna go 'n' run for? Huh? Sammy ain't 
gonna hurt you. All he wants is-" his hand dropped to her crotch-"this!" 

"I won't. I wooooooon't!" Diane fought. But the arms holding her were too 
strong. And the fingers digging into her pussy were too insistent. Each time 
she tried to pull away, the fingers crept deeper. Up her tight cunthole. 
Raking her sore little clit. And the thing poking into her ass was growing 
harder and longer... making her remember what it felt like to be taken. 

"You let me go or..." she began as the bushes before her parted, and Tony, 
redfaced and breathless from the chase, appeared in the fading light. He 
laughed; a deep, totally masculine sound. Diane felt goosebumps break out on 
her skin. But she grew suddenly calm. His balls! she thought. She'd wait for 
him to step forward, and, as she'd done to the boy at school, the one who 
had tried to molest her on graduation night, she'd kick him so hard he'd 
double up and cry. She watched for her chance... recalling how the boy at 
school enticed her into the corridor, where it was dark, began kissing and 
pawing her, and, when she didn't resist- happy because it was prom night, 
and wanting, despite herself, to be felt-had dug fingers into her pussy, as 
Sammy was doing, and refused to stop when she became frightened and asked 
him to. 

Finally Tony stepped forward. "What she needs," he told Sammy, "is something 
to tire 'er out. Guess I was too gentle with 'er before." 

Diane kicked. But Tony sidestepped and the toe of her high heel merely 
grazed his dungarees. He caught her ankle, lifted until pain knifed through 
her thigh. Now she wished she'd worn the shredded panties. For with her foot 
high, Sammy's arms about her waist supporting her weight, Tony could see her 
bare pussy, she knew. And the hungry look in his eyes told her he had no 
intention of waiting the few minutes it would take to drag her back to the 
cabin. 

Lifting her leg even higher so that the other foot was forced off the 
ground, Tony caught Diane's other ankle and stood between the girl's 
trembling, gaped-open thighs. "How about it, Sammy? Think she can take both 
of us at the same time?" 

"She'll take it 'n' like it, boss. I got a yen for 'er asshole, anyway." 

Oh God! thought Diane, too horrified to speak. They were determined to kill 
her. They were going to use her young body until they grew tired of it, then 
toss her worthless carcass into a dark pit somewhere. But there was a more 
immediate danger. And for now she was more concerned with the dark little 
pit between her legs. For, as she watched, Tony stepped closer and began to 
grind the crotch of his coarse dungarees into her exposed sex. She felt the 
rough material bruising her cuntlips. "Please," she whispered, tightening 
her belly, wiggling back into the hardness poking the virgin crack of her 
ass. 

Abruptly Tony released her ankles. For a moment Diane thought he was going 
to relent. Until he undid his fly and told Sammy, "You better get planted 
first." 

"Maybe we better lay 'er down?" suggested Sammy. 

"Fuck that!" Tony freed his long, stiff swipe, held it at the roots, and 
rubbed the swollen tip in the girl's white-blonde pussy hair. He reached for 
the neck of the dress Diane had managed to hold together with bobby pins. 
One swift yank parted the material. 

Diane felt the night air on her breasts and belly. It was almost dark now. 
She saw Tony's brutally handsome face as a blur. She welcomed the night. She 
didn't want Tony to see her chewing her lip... trying to hide what the 
smooth prick at her cunthole was doing to her insides. The soreness was 
suddenly gone. In its place was a burning emptiness... a need, a desire. She 
fought the feeling. But it was no use. Her mind believed one thing, and her 
body, the hot little gateway into her belly, demanded another. "I'll kill 
you," she hissed, not wanting to give in. "I... I'll wait 'til you're asleep 
and... and... and cut it off!" 

Tony laughed. His hand closed tight on her left breast. His fingers twisted. 
"You're as hot as a firecracker," he growled. "Admit it, baby... you dig a 
big cock in you. Yer fuckin' nipples're standing up like tin soldiers." 

"You...!" Again Diane tried to kick him. But now he was standing too close 
and her thigh merely slid up the outside of his pantsleg. Almost as if she'd 
planned it that way: as if her leg were reaching to snake around his waist, 
making her wet cunt more accessible. "Let-me-GO!" she yelled. 

"Bend 'er over," said Tony. "Get yer dick in 'er ass so's I can get some 
too." 

"You bet!" breathed Sammy. 

Diane felt the hand high on her back; felt herself being bent forward and 
the shredded dress being lifted off her plump buttocks. She tried to 
straighten up. But Tony grabbed a handful of her hair, held her head down, 
and rubbed his stiff swipe in her face. Then she felt the hot tip of the 
dick at her asshole. Her head reeled. Her heart became a pneumatic drill. 
The hands on her hips held her trapped, and the stiff thing, Sammy's meat 
dagger, began to cut its way past the silky tightness of her sphincters. 

"Man! Manoman!" grunted Sammy... pushing... pushing. His cock seemed too big 
for the tiny brown hole. He gripped tighter, digging his fingers, his nails, 
into the soft white hips trying to inch away from his rod. He pulled back 
and thrusted. The head of his dick disappeared into the lovely tightness. 
"Oh, man! AHHH!" 

The pain made Diane gasp. It felt as if someone were driving a giant redwood 
up her quivering behind. It went in, in. There seemed to be miles of it. And 
it seemed to take a lifetime to grind its way into the hot depths of her 
rectum. She twisted and strained... trying to open wider... to ease the 
friction of penetration. She began to pump back into his forward drives... 
making herself slippery back there... helping him enter. She stopped 
thinking, allowed her body to guide her. Her hips knew instinctively what to 
do to make the terrible thing less painful. Or was it something else her 
hips sought, she wondered. Something hot and sticky and liquid. Something 
she had experienced for the first time when Tony raped her. 

With one mighty lunge, Sammy embedded the last inches of stiff dick in the 
girl's nipping rectum. "Oh, man, boss," he sighed. "You sure knew what you 
was doin' when we snatched this one. Chrissakes! She... ahhh! AH! She's even 
tighter back here than Greta." 

"Nobody's tighter 'n Greta," said Tony. 

"This one is. Man! Skeet's kid sister is good, boss. But this one's even 
better." 

Tony scowled. "Greta'd scratch yer eyes out she heard you say that. But 
we'll compare when Skeet gets here. Right now-" he released Diane's hair, 
lifted her face until she stood straight-"I gotta get my joint up this one's 
hole or blast cum all over the forest." 

Diane hardly heard the exchange. Her ears were ringing. She felt the manmeat 
in her rectum expand as the cheeks of her ass closed tight. "Owwwww!" she 
moaned, unable to decide whether it was pain or pleasure she was 
experiencing. But there was little time to consider. For now Tony was 
setting the knob of his weapon at the swollen mouth of her vulva. And as the 
dick in her ass retreated, beginning to piston, the cock at her pussy began 
to bore home. 

"It... it w-won't w-work this w-w-way," sobbed Diane. 

"It'll work, girlie." Tony dug his fingers into the soft flesh at the back 
of her thighs... below where Sammy's hands gripped her hips. 

"Fuck it up her, boss," routed Sammy. 

"It's too tight standing up," blurted Diane, feeling the pole up her behind 
grate in to the hilt, while the one in front-longer, harder, and more 
awesome, it seemed-began to penetrate. She balled her hands into fists and 
pounded inadequately at the broad chest of the brute forcefully taking her 
for the second time in as many hours. 

Tony grunted and drove half the length of his prick up her forebelly. 
"That's it, baby," he breathed into her face. "Fight! I like it better when 
you struggle. Makes it harder gettin' in 'n' better when I get there." 

Diane whimpered. She squatted and drew the long veiny thing in all the way. 
It was the only thing to do, she told herself. If she resisted, tried to 
ward him off, he'd beat her, she knew, and have his own way in the end. But 
there was something inside her which continued to protest. Something which 
made her open one fist, and, as the last of the second big dick slipped into 
her body, drag her fingernails down the side of Tony's face. 

A giant hand closed tight around her throat. "Wanna play, huh?" barked Tony. 
"See how you like this!" He squeezed-cutting off her air. The long dick in 
her tight little pussy pulled back, paused for a moment, then slammed what 
seemed to be three feet of thick throbbing steel up her pulsating vagina. 

The treetops began to spin round and round in a Technicolor sky. And there 
were stars overhead. But that was impossible! Diane reasoned. It was too 
early for stars, and rainbows appeared only after storms. She felt herself 
sinking, blacking out. Then the hand was gone from her throat, slapping her 
face, pulling her back to the forest, and the two men, Tony and Sammy, and 
what they were doing to her trembling young body. 

"Now fuck!" commanded Tony. 

"Yeah! Move your pretty ass some or-" Sammy yanked hard on her hair. 

Gulping air into her lungs, Diane complied. She wiggled her hips: 
tentatively at first, then faster-round and round like the Technicolor 
sky-as the sensations began to electrify her tiny hole. Her hands crept up 
Tony's chest, to his shoulders. Her breathing quickened, grew ragged. She 
closed her eyes, let her face fall forward, and began fucking herself-both 
hot wet holes-back and forth on the seesaw of hard meat butting heads within 
her two dripping channels. 

"Jeez! Lookit her go!" Sammy released her hips. His hands glided up her rib 
cage, to her breasts. His fingers found the taut nipples. He placed his lips 
to her ear, nibbled the lobe. "Do it, honey," he whispered. "Keep that 
pretty ass workin' 'n' Sammy'll give you the best cumload ever." 

Panting, unable to control herself now, Diane sawed her pelvis forward and 
back, off one cock and onto the other, back again. Her pussy, the curly 
blonde wedge everyone seemed to adore, was sopping wet and alive with 
exquisite sensations she'd never imagined existed. Her clitoris felt huge. 
And each time Tony pulled back, dragging the shaft of his swipe over the 
tiny pink button, pinwheels went off in her head. There was a flame in her 
belly somewhere between front and rear hole. And each time one or the other 
dick plowed, gliding smoothly now, meeting no resistance, more fuel was 
added. 

She moaned and strained... milking the pricks... wanting more than anything 
to feel the hot liquid blast that would quench the fire. She wanted to raise 
her legs, to wrap her young thighs about Tony's waist, and fuck herself onto 
him that way. But that wouldn't do! she hastily reminded herself. She 
mustn't allow them-not Tony, not Sammy, not anyone-to see what she felt: 
mustn't acknowledge the wanton thing driving her hips, making her fiery 
cunthole contract and loosen, making her breath come in gasps, and making 
her forget where they were- rutting like animals in the damp woods-and that 
she was a prisoner, being forcefully taken by two armed thugs, who may, for 
all she knew, have killed Uncle John. 

But she fucked. She threw her lower body wildly about, pressed herself into 
the rough hands squeezing her tender titties. She felt Tony's hands creep 
around to the plump cheeks of her ass, cup and knead the jiggly flesh while 
Sammy pistoned his stiff rod in and out of the hot little brown hole low in 
the crack between the sweet melons. She had always liked her cute bottom. It 
was round and soft, deep-clefted, and, when she wore tight slacks or shorts 
or a bathing suit, every male eye she passed devoured the natural swish of 
its perfect contours. But she had never before imagined the thrill center 
hidden within the twin velvet half moons she'd always thought of as merely a 
cushion to sit on and a means of locomotion. 

Sammy hissed air through his teeth. His fingers became claws digging into 
her breasts. He pulled back until all but the fat tip of his joint was 
outside her body, then rammed and held himself buried... grinding his 
cockhair against the pinched crack up her bottom. 

"Oh! OH, NOOOOOO!" Diane couldn't help herself. She felt the pulsing deep in 
her rectum -the same delicious feeling she'd experienced when Tony emptied 
his sacs into her earlier- and didn't want it to end. 

"Ah! Ah, motherfucker!" gasped Sammy, grinding so hard he left hair burns on 
her soft bottom. 

Diane squealed. Because now Tony was popping off, too, filling her cunt with 
warm cream which was thicker and seemed to spurt from the glans of his cock 
with more force than the stuff oozing off in her rectum. And there was 
something breathless happening inside her. It began at the little pink 
button within her wet vulva, spread to her spine, and rocketed into her 
brain. It seeped down her thighs, to her knees, where the thrill turned to 
jelly. 

Unable to stand, she squatted and let the two spitting swipes keep her from 
crumpling to the forest floor. She was coming, she knew. Orgasm! Her first! 
She'd read about it, heard about it from girls she knew who'd been fucking 
since hair first sprouted on their love mounds. But never, not in her 
wildest, giddy dreams, nor in the stories she'd heard, had she expected it 
to be so overwhelmingly, incredibly, intoxicatingly good. 

"You brutes!" she cried... struggling once more... twisting and lashing 
out... determined to conceal from her captors what was happening to her. 

Tony cuffed her, once, twice, three times. "Fucking cunt bitch. Hold still 
'til I finish!" 

"Finish? Finish shit!" said Sammy. "I'm just gettin' started, boss. I got at 
least one, maybe more nuts ready to plant in this end." 

Sobbing-partially from the stinging blows to her face, but mostly because 
she didn't understand what was happening to her-Diane submitted meekly to 
the four rough hands exploring every inch of her body. The two pricks deep 
in belly were only slightly less full since popping off. And as Tony and 
Sammy took turns feeling the plump halves of her ass, her tits, the damp 
white-blonde curls low on her belly, she felt the poles growing thick and 
anxious once more. She felt them begin to throb gently. She felt her pussy 
and asshole-as if possessing a mind of their own-begin to breathe and make 
ready for the pummeling to come. 

Oh God! she thought. Make them hurry! 

 Chapter Three 

Greta appeared to have been screwed by an army. Tony studied her. The girl's 
long black hair was a mass of knots and tangles, her blouse wrinkled, and 
the tight white shorts she wore-too tight to allow her to breathe, it 
seemed-were stained yellow at the crotch. Tony shifted in his seat; his 
cock, slightly raw from too much fucking, beginning to swell. Despite the 
"just got out of bed" appearance, or perhaps because of it, Skeet's 
thirteen-year-old sister was a luscious, seductive minx. 

"Lose something?" Hands on hips, bare feet wide apart and shorts dipping 
snugly into her cuntlips, Greta stared defiantly back at him. 

"What'd you lose on the way up here?" countered Tony. 

"She ain't lost nothin' new," supplied Skeet. "A little face 'n' some ass. 
Nothin' she ain't give me almost before she could walk." 

Tony watched the brother and sister exchange affectionate smiles. He 
couldn't blame Skeet. He supposed if he had a kid sister like Greta, who 
whipped it out of your pants and put it in if you were too slow, he'd be 
plowing the doll, too. But Skeet, he knew, had a special thing about 
screwing his relatives. Because aside from Greta, there were half a dozen 
cousins, an aunt or two and a niece he was plowing regularly. "She's 
asleep," announced Sammy, stepping into the room from the bedroom. 

Tony scowled. "She was asleep before, too." 

Sammy grinned. "She won't be goin' nowhere this time, boss. Take a look." 

Skeet and Greta followed Tony to the open bedroom door. A small lamp beside 
the bed bathed Diane in diffused light. The girl lay on her back, the torn 
dress, haphazardly repaired, doing little to hide her lush charms. Her legs 
were spread. At the foot of the bed, a heavy rope, tied around her right 
ankle, secured her to the bedpost. 

Diane stirred in her sleep. A bell tinkled. Tony's eyebrows shot up. 

"That's in case she decides to play with the rope," explained Sammy. He 
moved to the foot of the bed, lifted the tether, and shook the small bell 
that had once been attached to a warning device above the entrance door to 
the cabin. "She won't be runnin' no more," he added, grinning and shaking 
the bell until Diane bolted upright. 

Tony felt a twinge of compassion. There were tears in the blonde's hazel 
eyes. Trembling, she clutched the tattered dress to her breasts and stared 
at them as a child stares accusingly at an irate parent. 

"Has she eaten?" asked Greta. 

Sammy snapped his fingers. "How about that. Knew there was somethin' I 
forgot," he said sarcastically. "But she can wait 'til morning. She's one of 
the fat cats. Do 'er good to see what it feels like to go hungry." 

"Feed 'er!" snapped Tony. 

Sammy jumped. "Sure, boss. Sure. Only..." 

Tony turned and left the bedroom before Sammy could finish. He was getting 
soft! he told himself. And that was dangerous. Not only wouldn't it do for 
Skeet and Sammy to see a sign of weakness, but once you got soft with a 
chick, he reasoned, once you showed her you cared and stopped being the 
boss, she became the master. And that had happened to him too many times 
before. 

Diane was stiff all over. It was morning. She could tell by the warmth of 
the light coming through the cracks in the boarded-up window. She didn't 
want to open her eyes. Because once she did that, once she left the security 
of sleep, they'd be there-the three men and the girl- and the ripping and 
pawing, the violation of her body, would begin all over again. But she had 
to pee. She had to go so bad her pussy burned with the need. And if she 
didn't open her eyes, ask someone where the bathroom was, she'd wet the bed, 
she knew. Then they'd laugh and add a new shame to what she was feeling. 

Abruptly she opened her eyes. She blinked. The room was deserted. Were they 
asleep? she wondered. Exhausted from having spent themselves on her body? 
Again she thought of escape. But then she felt the rope on her ankle, the 
thing she'd forgotten; moved and inadvertently rang the small bell. She 
cowered at the head of the bed as the door flew open, and the tall one, 
Skeet, glowered in at her. "I... I have to go to the bathroom," she managed 
in a small voice. 

Silently Skeet moved into the room. He sat on the edge of the bed. Diane 
watched his gaze move hotly up her legs, to her crotch. Quickly she covered 
herself. Her cunthole began to throb like an abscessed tooth. "I have to 
go!" she insisted. 

"Keep your panties on," said Skeet. 

"I don't have any panties to keep on. Thanks to your friends." Immediately 
Diane regretted having voiced the retort. It seemed she said all the wrong 
things. Now the man's gaze was riveted to the dip where the torn mini lay 
between her creamy young thighs. She saw him grin, felt his calloused hand 
on her leg, and bleated, "No, don't!" 

"A good hot pussy is one that has to pee," said Skeet, hand moving up the 
inside of her thigh. 

Diane closed her legs tight. But the hand forced its way between. "C'mon. 
Please!" she offered. "I... I can't hold it much longer." 

"It won't take long, baby." Skeet untied the rope tether, freeing her legs. 

"Oh...!" Diane rolled onto her side... another mistake, she realized. The 
movement shifted the loosely basted dress, and now, Skeet's fingers seeking 
her cuntlips, her bottom was exposed to his view. She tried to twist back. 
But Skeet cupped her soft buttocks, fingers probing the hot crack, and two 
long thin darts began to pry open her holes. 

Furious with herself for thinking she could reason with the brute and 
outraged anew by the degradation of being used at the whim of her captors, 
she began to fight. She clawed and kicked, used her elbows, knees, teeth, 
and butted with her head. When Skeet merely laughed, pinning her to the 
bedding with the weight of his body, proving how inadequate, how defenseless 
she was, she struggled even harder... ignoring the pain caused by the 
fingers digging brutally into the heated pockets between her bruised thighs. 
The pain spurred her on, made her wild. Until Skeet threw the dress off her 
shoulders, baring her breasts, and clamped his teeth down hard on one tender 
pink nipple. 

Diane gasped... trying to wrestle his sweating face away from her body. But 
the teeth held fast. It felt as if her nipple was being chewed off. She 
stopped struggling, whimpered and submitted to his desires. 

"That's better," growled Skeet. His hand coaxed her legs apart. He flattened 
his hand on her pussy and rubbed round and round. His middle finger found 
and began fucking itself in and out of her wet pink slit. 

Now Diane gasped for another reason. Skeet had found her clitoris and was 
teasing, moving his fingertip back and forth over the hard little peg. She 
forgot about having to pee. She forgot the teethmarks and the trickle of 
blood at her nipple. She tried to pretend, but that, too, was gone. Now she 
wanted only to feel the stiffness of a big swipe up her cunthole... stoking 
in and out... faster and faster... throbbing and spitting hot cream... 
filling her with the delicious electric sensation of orgasm. 

Skeet must have recognized her desire. He released her, stood, and, a 
knowing look on his face, began to strip. Diane watched. She couldn't help 
herself. Her gaze refused to be torn away from his crotch. Breathing as if 
her lungs were about to burst, unable to do more than lay there and stare 
hungrily-legs wide apart and cunt burning-she watched the pants and shorts 
fall, saw his hard dick spring away from a mass of curly black cockhair, and 
sobbed as if she were a bride, Skeet the groom, and this was their wedding 
night. 

"Take off them fucking rags," said Skeet. Diane hesitated only a moment. 
Then, as if in a trance, she sat up on the bed, undid what was left of the 
minidress, threw it off, and fell nude onto the pillows. She looked from 
Skeet's long, bright red hard-on, to the little blonde triangle atop and 
between her young thighs. It felt swollen. And the entrance, too low for her 
to see, seemed to be sucking air. She had to restrain her hand, her fingers, 
from dipping into the gap. It was wrong! she told herself over and over. 
Perverse! So unlike her! But in the past twenty-four hours, since Tony and 
the others had entered her life and brought her to the cabin in the middle 
of nowhere, she'd experienced things, feelings, she couldn't explain. Her 
physical senses seemed to be an entity apart from her mind. And now, eyes 
glued to Skeet's bloated manhood, belly tight and thighs tensing in 
anticipation, her mind said no but her body refused to obey. 

Kneeling beside her on the bed, stiff prick dancing within inches of her 
face, Skeet ran his hands leisurely over her soft skin. "You're like silk," 
he told her. "Hot silk." 

Diane began to squirm; anxious to have him take her, to ram his manmeat up 
her pulsing pussy, but unwilling to say what she felt. She felt his hand on 
her belly. Her hips jerked up off the bedding. She gasped as the long middle 
finger returned to her cunthole. 

"Play with my rod." Skeet inched closer, bringing the fat tip of his sex 
directly over her face. 

"No." Diane whispered. 

"Touch it," coaxed Skeet. "Feel how hard it is. All for you, baby. Show me 
how much you like it before we put it up here." He slipped another rough 
finger into her sopping wet slit. And another. 

"Owwwwww!" Diane wiggled her hips against the wedge spreading the lips of 
her vulva. Her hand fluttered up off the sheet. His swipe was so big! Fatter 
around than Tony's and Sammy's together, it seemed. It would never fit in 
the tiny cave between her quivering thighs, she was certain. But she wanted 
it there. She didn't care if he tore her apart as long as she could feel 
another dick shooting before she died. Her need was desperate. 

Skeet grabbed her slim wrists, guided her uncertain hand to his stiffness, 
and closed her small fingers tight around the powerful shaft. "Kiss it!" he 
grunted. "Gimme a blowjob. Put it in your mouth 'n' suck me off." 

Diane recoiled. The heat of a moment before was gone. She had been 
speculating on the size of the filthy thing in relation to her pussy. But 
her mouth? Never! She could almost feel the awesome member filling her 
throat, choking her. "I won't do it!" she wailed. "You... you can't make me 
put that awful big thing in my mouth." 

"Can't I?" Skeet laughed. 

Before she could move or protest further, Skeet had withdrawn his fingers 
from her love hole, straddled her upper body, and Diane was staring at the 
throbbing glans of his cock. The acrid smell of sweat from his balls filled 
her nostrils. Horrified, she watched him steer the terrible thing to her 
lips. "Oh, no. No! No! No! No! NOOOOOOOO!" 

Sitting heavily upon her chest, laughing, Skeet squeezed her neck. Diane 
opened her mouth. "That's it, baby. Pretend it's a lollipop," said Skeet. 
"You'll dig it real good once you get started. I had to persuade Greta some, 
too. Now she'd as soon go down on a joint as shake your hand." 

Her head was reeling again. Greta! Who was Greta, she wondered. She 
remembered seeing a girl the night before. And she recalled Tony and Sammy 
discussing Skeet's sister. God! she thought. Did he actually do this 
horrible thing to his sister? And if the black-haired girl was his 
sister-the girl with a mouth no bigger than the mouth on a doll-was she 
actually capable of taking the entire length of his tool into her. 

Skeet's persistent swipe made her gag. Where a moment before she'd been 
willing to give in, to have him take her in the normal way, she now was 
filled with loathing. The head of his rod was pushing in past her teeth, 
onto her tongue, and she couldn't close her mouth because the hand at her 
throat was making it almost impossible to breathe. She felt his big wrinkled 
sacs on her breasts, smelled the stink of his asshole, and knew she would 
pass out, perhaps never again to come to, if he tried to force the hot hard 
monster any further into her face. 

"Just a little suck," groaned Skeet, inching his tense buttocks closer to 
her chin, "'til I'm ready to come. Then I'll give you a fucking, baby. I'll 
give you a screwin' like you ain't never had." 

Diane remained unplacated. She squirmed, pressing her head back into the 
soft pillow until she lay almost flat. But the dick in her mouth continued 
to advance. Wide-eyed, terrified, she watched half the length disappear 
slowly into her face, felt it humping its way toward her gullet, unmindful 
of her struggles. "Don' may meee!" she gurgled. "Anything! P'ease! Anything 
but 'hisss!" 

Skeet paused for a moment to look sharply about. His eyes narrowed. Dick 
throbbing in its sheath, he grabbed the pillow from the other side of the 
bed, doubled it, and shoved it under her head. Then he cupped her raised 
face in his hands, pulled back, and drove the last hard inches of thick 
prick into the wet warmth of her mouth. "Ahhhhhh!" 

Diane gagged as the glans butted her tonsils. But now that he was firmly 
planted, now that there was no chance of her spitting him out, Skeet removed 
his hands from her flushed face, reached behind, and began to fingerfuck her 
pussy more rapidly than before. 

"Oh! OHHHH!" Diane's hips began to gyrate. The unruly little pink guard at 
the inner gateway to her belly stood hard and tall. The electric sensations 
began to flood her body... making the thing slipping smoothly in and out of 
her mouth less dreadful. Then she stopped caring, threw her knees wide, 
opening her cunt for the fingers, clutching Skeet's balls, and sucked on the 
knob of his cock, as if... as if it were a lollipop! she decided. As if it 
were one of the sweet, all-day cherry suckers she'd loved as a little girl. 

It lasted only a moment. "That's it!" breathed Skeet. "I'll... ahhh! Urn! 
I'll blow off in your face if we go any more." 

Reluctantly, Diane allowed him to pull back. His swipe popped loudly from 
her face. She sobbed. "Do it," she heard herself say. "P-put it in me. Up 
m-my p-p-pussy." 

Skeet needed no direction. Before the words were out of her mouth, he was 
positioned between her gaped open, lovely young thighs... long wet dick 
bobbing toward her pink cunt-hole. Slowly he let himself down. The tip of 
his rod butted her crotch... seeking... sniffing the enticing entrance. 

"Hummmmmm!" Diane felt it: so close but missing the mark. Impulsively she 
reached down between their bodies, wrapped trembling fingers about the 
pulsing shaft, and guided the fiery glans to her vulva. "Fuck it up!" she 
breathed hotly into his face. "All the way in me!" 

Skeet groaned. He seemed somehow different, thought Diane. She blinked. He 
wasn't much older than her, she suddenly realized. And now, the hardness 
gone from his features, mouth open, eyes glazed, he wasn't near as 
repulsive. She held his big prick, lifted her buttocks, and marveled at the 
way he trembled as the stiffness slipped into her pussy. She looked from his 
face, down their bodies, to her little blonde wedge. What an incredible 
thing it was! Not only did it possess the ultimate in pleasure for her, but 
hidden within the pink folds, in her round belly, was the power to change a 
gruff, tough character like Skeet into a trembling, willing tool. 

Diane gasped and threw her hips high-taking the last of his swipe into her 
sheath. "Oh God! God! God!" 

"You're good, baby," rasped Skeet. "Jesus! Your cunt's hotter than a fuckin' 
.38 slug." 

Suddenly Diane glanced toward the boarded-up window. There now was new hope 
of escape- high up in her tight vagina where the head of Skeet's meat was 
embedded. It was dreadful of her, she knew. But perhaps she could fuck her 
way free. Perhaps she could use the hot hairy pockets between her quivering 
thighs to make Skeet, or Sammy, or Tony, one of them, take her back to Uncle 
John. She allowed her body to take over. She threw her legs high, onto 
Skeet's back, locked her ankles. She wrapped her arms about his broad 
shoulders. "Fuck me good," she whispered, humping with all her might up onto 
his rod. "Oh, do it. Do it!" 

Skeet's hands gripped her buttocks. He began to rut... pulling back until 
his joint almost slipped from her cuntlips, then driving. 

Escape! Diane thought, fucking her hips off the bedding. The trouble was... 
now, with a big stiff dick swabbing her pussy, raking her clit, causing the 
tingly sensations, she didn't care if she never got away. She didn't care 
about poor, sweet Uncle John, who had been a father to her since her own 
parents died. She didn't care about anything except the hot come inching up 
from Skeet's hairy sacs, and what it would do to her insides when he came. 

"Fuck me," she sighed. "Oh, fuck me good!" 

Nor did Skeet seem to mind being a tool. 

Afterward, after they had come in unison and Skeet had allowed her to pee, 
they lay together in bed, side by side, basking in the warm afterglow of 
orgasm. Diane was content to lie there forever. Calm. Sated. But it wasn't 
to be. For as Skeet was pressing the fat knob of his prick into her tight 
cuntlips, ready to lift her to the bright lights once more, the door opened, 
and the black-haired girl, the one she'd seen the night before, stepped into 
the room. 

"You lousy fuck!" Greta shrieked. 

Suddenly Diane was snatched back from the world of calm. Mouth hanging open, 
she watched the tiny dark girl rush at them. She threw up her hands. Too 
late! A fist no bigger than a pink ball connected with the bony ridge 
beneath her left eye. 

"Fucking whore!" screeched Greta, punching. "Stinking blonde bitch! Fucking 
motherless..." 

Grabbing both the girl's slender wrists in one huge hand, Skeet dragged her 
down, across Diane's body and onto the bed between them. "Knock it off!" he 
barked. 

Greta bit his shoulder. Her sharp little teeth sank in, held. "You're mine!" 
she hissed. 

Skeet slapped his sister so hard Diane winced from the blow. Was this 
actually happening, she wondered. It was as if she'd been torn from reality 
the day before, and bounced down, deposited in some black pit. She felt her 
cheek swelling where Greta had punched her; felt her hot little cunthole 
dripping thick juice, and watched the two tussle until Skeet pinned the 
girl. She saw the fat tip of his swipe poke up the legband of Greta's white 
shorts, saw the girl go rigid and grit her teeth as the dickhead found her 
pussy. 

"This what you want?" growled Skeet, tearing at her blouse, baring 
miniature, big-nippled tits, and greedily sucking one taut pink peak into 
his mouth. 

"Mother!" choked Greta. 

Skeet humped until half the length of his rod was buried in the tiny young 
girl. The shorts stopped him from going further, Diane could see. Her own 
cunt began to pulse. She lay close beside them, eyes wide, one hand gingerly 
testing the bruise caused by Greta. 

A sudden change came over the black-haired girl. Where before she had 
struggled to hurt, she now thrashed as Diane had gyrated moments before. 
Moaning, making small, wild animal noises deep in her throat, she threw her 
legs wide... shifting the legband of the shorts and drawing her brother's 
stiff member all the way up her black pussy. 

Mesmerized, suspended between fear and fascination, Diane watched them fuck. 
They seemed unaware of her. Until she tried to rise from the bed. Then 
Skeet's hand slapped down hard on her belly, making her yell. Rough fingers 
stole through the white-blonde curls crowning her sex, down, down to the wet 
slit between her full thighs. Then she too was fucking, gripping Skeet's 
thick wrist in both hands, and grinding her cunt onto the fingers as she 
watched and listened to the brother and sister make love. 

Incest! thought Diane... remembering how Uncle John had always found some 
excuse to rub against her in the store, and, at home, how he always seemed 
to linger at her bedroom door after saying good night. Now she envisioned 
the hard thing in his pantsleg. Had she known what pleasure it held, she 
decided, perhaps she and Uncle John, at that very moment, would be off 
somewhere committing the cardinal sin. 

But that was dopey! she told herself, feeling the wonderful thrill of orgasm 
approaching. Nothing so good could be sinful. She only regretted having 
waited this long to find out how delicious it was to have a man-any man, she 
supposed, but some more than others-stick a long dick up her pussy, her 
asshole, in her mouth. 

"Ow! Owww, Skeeeeeeet!" cried Greta, coming. 

Skeet tore the shorts trying to get his hand beneath and onto the bucking 
girl's small bottom. "Tighten up, Sis. You know how. Put that juice-hole in 
gear. That's it! That's... ah! Ahhh! That's fucking the way fucking should 
be. Go, baby. GO!" 

Sobbing, unable to breathe, Diane fucked her little blonde triangle onto 
Skeet's fingers, and thought, if only she'd known! It only she could turn 
the clock back, to the day at the store, and, knowing what she now knew, 
have poor, sweet Uncle John, who was not even forty and built like a grizzly 
and handsome, rub his stiff swipe into the crack of her ass once more. 

 Chapter Four 

Three days later, as dawn was breaking over the Palos Verdes Hills, Tony and 
Sammy and Skeet and Greta were taken into custody by state police and 
federal agents who had surrounded the cabin during the night. Blinking, 
sporting a black eye with green and purple fringes and multiple welts and 
bruises, wearing loose-fitting jeans and an enormous plaid shirt, Diane was 
led out of the place. 

At the drive, a trooper on either side of her, she paused for a last look at 
Tony. He grinned at her from behind the wire mesh and glass in the back of a 
station wagon. Goosebumps broke out all over her body. She knew that grin! 
It was the way Tony had looked at her each time he lashed out. But despite 
what he and the others had done to her, despite the dull ache at the pit of 
her belly and the stiffness of limb, she was sorry to see them caged. It was 
over! she thought. She'd never again see their faces! But the thought held 
no joy, no satisfaction. For there were other things they'd done to her, 
things she didn't yet fully understand. Things..." 

"Your uncle's waiting for you," said the trooper in charge. He held the 
patrol car door open for her. 

Hastily Diane stepped into the car waiting to take her back to L.A. Things 
she could tell no one, she thought... except, maybe, Uncle John. 

It was as if she were seeing her uncle for the first time. There were things 
about him she'd never noticed before... the way he tried not to look at her 
jutting breasts... the way he stood with hips slightly back when he took her 
in his powerful arms, kissed the top of her head, and said, "I was crazy 
thinking I'd never see you again." 

"I missed you too," whispered Diane, pressing closer, wanting to feel the 
stiffness rise. His cock was a limp length of hose in his pantsleg. But it 
was longer than she remembered, longer limp than Skeet's prick was when 
hard, it seemed. "I thought about you a lot," she added. "When... when those 
horrible creatures were d-doing all t-t-those terrible things to me." She 
pressed closer still. She'd pretend to be his little girl, she decided. 

Hurriedly Uncle John pushed her away. "You need rest," he said gruffly. He 
tried to grin. He looked from her face, to the copy of the police report 
she'd signed, the account of the four-day ordeal. He cleared his throat and 
brushed hair back from the bandage at the back of his head. "We'll talk 
later. If you want to. If..." 

"I'd like to clean up," interrupted Diane, feeling the now familiar pulsing 
in her cunt-hole. What would Uncle John do if she came right out and said 
what she wanted, she wondered. Beat her? Wallop her buttocks-as he'd done 
when she was little and naughty, and before he'd discovered the first hint 
of gold between her young legs? The thought made her tremble. "You... you 
can read about it while I take a bath," she said, pointing to the official 
papers he held. "Then we'll talk. I need someone, Uncle John. If you only 
knew how much." She stood on tiptoe and lightly kissed his lips before 
hurrying off to the bathroom. 

By the time John had finished reading the police report, his dick was hard. 
He could imagine his niece, the sweet little blonde he'd wanted to rape 
himself more times than he could remember, tied to a bed in a cabin in the 
middle of nowhere. Vulnerable. There to be used whenever her captors had 
what he now had in his pants-leg. He gripped his stiff cock, closed his 
eyes, and envisioned the girl naked. But she was his niece! he told himself. 
His dead brother's only child! And although he wanted her still, more now 
than ever before, he tried to stifle the vision of himself climbing between 
her full, tender young thighs. 

"Aren't you going to the store today?" called Diane from the bathroom. 

"Huh? What'd you say, honey?" His prick was so hard, and the running water 
so loud, he barely heard her. The girl called again, a small, muffled voice. 
No! he wouldn't touch her, he decided, rising from the sofa. But it wouldn't 
hurt anyone if he looked and dreamed about what others had done to her 
lovely young body. 

Diane sat in the tub, the water level at the pink tips of her breasts. She 
smiled as he pushed the door all the way open, and stood, the crotch of his 
pants bulging, staring. He saw her gaze drop from his face to his manhood. 
Christ! he thought. She seemed to be egging him on. He stepped into the 
steam-filled bathroom and moved to the tub. 

"See what they did to me?" Diane bent forward, displaying the red welts down 
her back. 

"My God!" breathed John. He could see the welts and bruises, true. But 
beneath the water, as if he were looking at her reflection in a fuzzy 
mirror, he could also see the crack in her round white ass. His chest grew 
tight. How many times, he thought... how many times had he held himself 
momentarily against that sweet valley, and wished, almost prayed for the 
courage to take her. How he stood looking down at the flattened contours, 
his dick rigid. And Diane, looking up at him with wide, laughing eyes, 
seemed to be saying, "Go ahead, Uncle John. Touch me there if you want to." 

"Do we have any salve you can rub on to make it less sore?" asked Diane 
finally. 

John forced his hungry eyes away from her body. He looked deep into her 
face. But now she was sitting straight in the water, coyly holding the 
washcloth over her pussy and showing him the perfect cherry-tipped lobes of 
her breasts. He remembered the promise of blonde pubic hair he'd seen years 
before... the last time he'd spanked her. Was it gold now, he wondered. Like 
the long silky hair on her head? He'd seen only two in his lifetime, two 
real blondes. Both had had a triangle so curly and soft it was like fucking 
a cloud. 

Turning abruptly away, he moved to the medicine chest and said, "You'll have 
to dry off first. I can't do it while you're in the tub." He searched 
through the bottles and tubes until he found the salve. Then, turning back 
to the girl, he asked, "What'd you call me for, anyway?" 

"To make you come in 'n' see me." 

John studied his niece. She seemed not to notice or care that he could see 
her titties, her legs. There was a dare in her eyes. It would be so easy to 
step to the tub, lift her out of the water, and crush her sweet little body 
to the rod in his pants. He forced the thought from his mind, commanded his 
joint to be still. "You're a woman now," he told her. "I shouldn't be in 
here with you undressed." 

Diane sat taller. Her hard little pink nipples rose out of the water, 
dripped. "Don't you like looking at me, Uncle John? My body?" 

"You're my niece!" he yelled, trying to convince himself as well as the 
girl. "Now get finished in here and put something on before I forget you're 
not a little girl and put the strap to your ass." 

Storming out of the bathroom, John returned to the living room, and paced. 
He heard the water stop running, heard the drain gurgle, and heard Diane 
humming, as she toweled herself, he supposed. He could imagine the 
terrycloth moving roughly over her smooth skin... over the luscious half 
moons of flesh on either side of the pinched crack he'd seen in the tub. His 
gaze drifted to the police report on the end table beside the sofa. Sodomy! 
it said. Intercourse! Cunnilingus, fellatio, whippings, and orgies! And yet, 
aside from the welts and bruises, the black eye, the girl seemed not the 
least bit ashamed or concerned. He stared at the tube of salve in his hand. 
It would be so easy, he thought, so simple, to begin by rubbing her back, 
and creep lower. 

He was sitting on the sofa, leafing through the report, when Diane padded 
into the living room and flopped beside him. The hem of the towel she wore 
as a sarong barely reached her lap. The top was tied right across her 
breasts, emphasizing the melons. "Rub me," she whispered. "See?" ,She .moved 
one small hand slowly over the fading welts on her thighs. "They did awful 
things to me, Uncle John. On my legs, my back, my buttocks. It was Greta's 
idea at first. She was jealous because Skeet, her brother, wanted me. So she 
got Sammy drunk and made him beat me with a belt." Diane turned, sat on the 
edge of the sofa sidesaddle, offering her back. She undid the knot at her 
breasts. The towel fell to her waist. She looked back over her shoulder. 
"After the first time, though," she continued, "after Sammy saw how I yelled 
and thrashed, he kinda got to like beating me. Especially my... my ass! He 
said whipping me there made my buttocks nice 'n' hot, and when he put it in 
me... his... his dick, I mean, well, I had to raise up off the bed, to keep 
from hurting the bruises, and me raising up, Sammy said, made it better for 
him." 

Mentally, John groaned. He felt lightheaded. "You... you don't have to tell 
me," he said with difficulty. 

"I want to." Diane inched her buttocks closer. "Put the salve on, Uncle 
John. All over." 

John squeezed the salve from the tube onto trembling fingers and applied the 
slippery stuff to the girl's welted back. He began at her shoulders. But his 
gaze was on the towel at her waist. It slipped almost imperceptibly lower as 
he rubbed. His prick began to pulse and jerk in his pants. 

"That first time was the worst," Diane went on. "They beat me once in the 
afternoon and again at night. But at night they had four pieces of rope, and 
Greta, whose idea it was, I think, really seemed to enjoy tying my wrists 
and ankles to the bedposts. I was spread-eagled. On my belly. But I could 
still see them... Sammy on one side of the bed, Greta on the other. And when 
Sammy took off his belt, I... I..." her voice broke. 

"Did the girl, Greta, did she make... did she... did you and she...?" 

"Make love?" 

John nodded. In the lamp on the end table he could see his niece's 
reflection. The roundness of the lamp distorted her breasts, made the 
nipples pencil-like points. And the gap in the towel she held at her waist 
had widened so that he now could see the pinched crack up her lovely behind. 
He wanted to push his hand down into the chasm, probe her hot little 
asshole. He wanted to take out his cock, lift her onto his lap and make her 
slide down the stiff spike. "Did... did you and the other girl f-fuck?" he 
managed in a barely audible voice full of gravel. 

"Not the first time," replied Diane. "But I think she came just watching 
Sammy beat me. And then, after I was all sore back there-" she glanced down, 
indicating her buttocks-"and Sammy had a hard-on, and they had untied me, 
Greta helped him turn me over on my back, and held my ankles wide apart 
while he climbed between my legs and stuck his big fat dick up my cunthole." 

"Jesus!" John's hands slipped lower, to her waist... rubbing... rubbing. The 
salve had dissolved. But his niece wasn't interested in salve, he suspected. 
Nor was he. Now he wanted only to hear more about what the thugs and the 
girl, especially the girl, had done to her. 

"Should I lie down?" asked Diane. 

"Lie d-down?" 

"Um. So you can rub the salve on my buttocks. The welts are worse there. 
See?" Abruptly the girl stood and let the towel drop midway down her behind. 

John gasped. The plump half moons of flesh were marred with purple-red 
bruises. But they were nonetheless lovely. And the dark split, below an 
adorable dimple, showed a slight hint of the gold hair he knew he'd find on 
her pussy. He no longer cared that she was his niece. She seemed willing 
enough... using words like cunthole and dick... showing herself... offering 
to lie down. And now, as she stood looking back at him over her shoulder to 
gaze at his fly, she seemed almost mocking. "Yes!" he told her. "Lie down. 
On your belly." 

Obediently Diane complied. She lay with legs slightly parted, arms at her 
sides, the towel draped over the round lower half of her ass. "Skeet liked 
to do me like this," she said. "In the behind. He said it was the best kind 
of fucking. Do you like it that way, Uncle John?" 

"I... I haven't done that since your aunt died. She... she used to like it 
that way." 

"Did she?" Diane pushed the towel down off her white and welted buttocks. 
The twin mounds jiggled. 

"Better than fucking," gulped John. 

"Tell me about it. I told you about me. Put the salve on my ass and tell me 
how you used to screw Aunt Margaret in the behind." 

Was this actually happening, John wondered. Was this his niece? The girl was 
telling him, it seemed, in a subtle way, she wanted him to feel, perhaps 
fuck her ass. Or was it because his dick was so hard, harder than it had 
been in years, that he read more into the words than was actually there? She 
was so beautiful. Young. Naked. Waiting for his touch. Quickly he squeezed 
more salve from the tube onto his fingers and spread it over her exquisite 
little round cheeks. "Aunt Margaret was lots like you," he choked. "She... 
she liked me to rub her body with oil. It kept her skin soft, she said. But 
it never ended there. A massage always excited her... made her wild... a 
young girl again. Then she'd lay on her belly, like this, open her legs and 
beg me to... to stick my prick in her rectum." His fingers grazed the girl's 
crack. He felt the heat exuding from the tiny rear hole surrounded by tufts 
of soft hair. 

Diane sighed. Her legs opened. Now John could see she was indeed a true 
blonde, could see the pink slit of her cunt. "We shouldn't," he said, unable 
to tear his eyes or hands away. "You should stop me before... before..." 

"Before what, Uncle John?" 

"Before you make me so crazy I won't be able to stop myself. Before I really 
forget you're my niece and do exactly what those three boys did to you." 

Diane raised up on her elbows. She half turned, showing him one delectable 
tit and emphasizing the smooth swell of her bruised bottom. "Know what I was 
thinking all the time they were doing me?" 

John couldn't speak. There was something stuck in his throat. He had to stop 
this! he told himself over and over. He'd be no better than the three thugs 
if he took advantage of her-worse! But she was making it so easy, wantonly 
offering her body, making him remember Margaret and that he hadn't had a 
young girl in more years than she was old. His hands moved lovingly over her 
hot little ass... kneading the tender halves... rubbing harder than he 
intended. And his cock, the fierce, throbbing thing in his pantsleg, made 
him crave what he knew he had no business wanting. 

"I was thinking of you," said Diane at last. "All the time they were doing 
me, after that first time, I was thinking about how you used to press 
yourself against me at the store. I was thinking about how it should've been 
you... about how big your swipe is, and how good it would feel up my belly." 

"No!" John slapped her. Hard! As hard as he could! To hear the words spoken, 
to have the girl say what he himself had been thinking, made it obscene. He 
slapped her again and again, not wanting to, but unable to stop himself 
until she was weeping and cowered at the armrest of the sofa. Then he sat 
staring. Because now she lay with knees raised to her breasts... fat pink 
cuntlips and curly white-blonde pubic hair completely exposed. 

"You can beat me if you want. I don't care. Only do it. Do it to meee!" 

Before John knew what was happening, his niece was against him, hand 
fumbling at his pants. "Fuck me, Uncle John," she breathed hot in his face. 
"Stick your big dick up my pussy. You know you want to. Don't pretend. All 
those times in the store, when you pressed against me, you were thinking how 
good it would be. And before in the bathroom. And just now while you were 
squeezing my behind." 

The hand at his fly found the zipper, worked it down, and tiny cool fingers 
closed tight around the tortured knob of his cock. "It's beautiful," sighed 
Diane. "So hard. Fuck it up me, Uncle John. Please. PLEEZE!" 

"Honey!" he gasped, unable to resist any longer. His arms went around her, 
pulled her close, onto his lap, and his lips, his tongue, sought the moist 
warmth of her mouth. Hungrily he kissed her. His hands moved down her back, 
to the plump cheeks of her ass, cupped the softness. His stinkfinger found 
her tight asshole, twisted in. She moaned and pressed closer. His free hand 
captured a breast. He pinched the miniature nipple, drove his finger all the 
way up her hot rectum, and shafted his tongue into the sweetness of her 
mouth. 

Tearing her lips away, Diane whispered, "Fuck me now, Uncle John. I want you 
so." 

"Lemme get undressed." 

"Oh!" Diane released his prick and clawed at his belt buckle. "I can't wait. 
I'm so hot. Iiiieeeee...!" Her breath caught as his finger slipped from her 
asshole, across the island separating front and rear gate, and into the wet 
little gash between her anxious young thighs. "Oh, do it, Uncle John. Do it 
quick!" 

John pushed her away, stood. His joint was a steel harpoon protruding from 
coarse cockhair. As he stripped, he watched the girl's glazed hazel eyes. 
Her gaze never left the joystick Margaret and others had told him was the 
biggest they'd ever seen. Momentarily he wondered if his niece, the 
beautiful girl stretched full length on the cushions, could take the fierce 
member. Her cunt was so tight! And her asshole! God, her sweet asshole! He'd 
tear her apart, humping it in back there! 

"Hurry!" sobbed Diane. "My pussy's all wet. It hasn't had anything in it 
since yesterday." 

"Tell me about the other girl," said John, running his fingers through her 
silk cunthair as he sat on the edge of the sofa. "Did you two... did you... 
did you and she...?" He couldn't make himself say the words. 

"She sucked me," Diane supplied. 

"Christ Jesus!" John drove his fingers deep into the tight but juicy hole 
between her gaped open thighs. He could imagine the girls, one atop the 
other, lapping each other's pink slit. "Did... did you suck her too?" 

"Ummim. Y-yes. Owwwww!" Diane squirmed against his hand. She opened her legs 
wider. Raising one knee, she lifted her hips off the cushion, reached for 
him. "But I liked doing the guys better," she added. 

"Then do me," he told her. "Suck my dick." 

"Oh! Fuck me first. Then..." 

"Now!" Panting, unaware of anything except the urgent need in his loins and 
the girl's glistening lips, John took hold of her hair. She offered a 
halfhearted protest. But with the vision of her going down on a prick vivid 
in his mind, the maddening thought of her mouth slipping wetly down the 
length of his stiffness, her protests meant nothing. He forced her head to 
his lap. He abandoned her pussy and gripped the roots of his sex. "Suck it!" 
he barked, steering his bloated rod to his niece's flushed, lovely face. 

Diane whimpered. But her tiny hands closed tight about the base of his cock. 
Her tongue, an inquisitive butterfly, flicked out. John's hips bucked as the 
dart swirled around the tip, washed down, flattened against the thick vein 
along the bowed underside and licked swiftly back to the glans. She looked 
up at him from beneath arched brows. Her lips formed a wide O. Smiling at 
him with tear-filled eyes, she dropped one hand to his nuts, cupped, and 
gently drew the bulbous tip of his stiffness into the moist warmth of her 
beautiful mouth. 

The contact tore a strangled cry from John's throat. "Ah, honey. Honeeeee!" 
His fingers locked tight in the girl's long hair. He pushed her head down, 
down, down the incredible length of his rod. He closed his eyes and savored 
the delicious sensation... grinding his hips... forcing his meat deeper and 
deeper. There was a roaring in his ears. A volcano. A tidal wave of jism 
seeping up from the knowing fingers, teasing his balls. 

It ended too soon. Before his dick was fully embedded, before he could feel 
the girl's lips at the base, the roaring became the beat of ten thousand 
drums, the volcano erupted, and a tidal wave of hot cum shot up the length 
of his cock. "Oh, sweet Jesus!" he groaned, falling forward over the girl, 
forcing her head down with the weight of his body. Unable to think or hear, 
lost in the thrill of orgasm, he held her lovely face crushed to his coarse 
pubic hair, and fucked-humped spurt after spurt of thick cream into her 
gullet. 

Diane gurgled. Noisily she sucked the hot fluid. She kneaded his balls. Her 
fingers played in the hairy crack of his ass. Although he was hurting her, 
John knew-although the wiry cockhair bruised her face, and his hands, 
fingers became grappling hooks, gripped her head as if he were drowning and 
she was a life preserver-she milked the last gooey drop: as if it were 
pollen and she was a bee and the hive in her throat was dependent on her for 
survival. 

When it was over, when at last his prick was sated and growing limp, John 
released the girl. He watched her face rise up... lips red and swollen... a 
trickle of semen dripping down her chin. "I... I'm sorry," he told her, sick 
with his own uncontrollable desire. "For being so rough. For hurting you. 
I... I never meant to. I... I only wanted to... to..." 

"It's okay. It was nothing compared to what happened up at the cabin. I... I 
guess I'm used to it by now." Diane hugged his legs. She rubbed her smooth 
cheek along the length of his wet joint. "As long as it was good for you. It 
was good-wasn't it?" 

"The best, honey. The absolute greatest thing that's ever happened to me." 

"I'm glad," sighed Diane. Her small hand closed around his thick dick once 
more. Head down, tongue doing a tantalizing dance between his tense thighs, 
she asked, "How long does it take to get hard again? Uncle John? Uncle?" 

But John was too dazed to say more: too deliciously empty to do more than 
watch the silky blonde hair move like a delicate web over his thighs, his 
limpness. What was she thinking, this niece of his, he wondered. What did 
she think of her benevolent Uncle John now? What was going through her 
sixteen-year-old mind as she did her best to bring him back to full 
stiffness? Like a lollipop! thought Diane. Like the all-day cherry sucker 
she had never been without as a little girl. Her face burned from the slaps. 
But she didn't mind that. She didn't mind anything so long as she could have 
his big cock. Doing as Skeet had taught her, she held Uncle John's swipe and 
darted her tongue at the tiny aperture in the tip. It began to rise. She 
licked faster... making him groan as he'd groaned moments before when the 
delicious cream shot off in her mouth. Her cunt was dripping its juice all 
over the slipcovers, and the only thought in her mind was to make him stand 
tall and deposit another cumload... this time in the hot hairy hole between 
her trembling thighs. 

"No more," said Uncle John. "Not this way." 

She felt his hands at her armpits. She allowed herself to be lifted onto his 
lap. She wiggled until the crack of her ass pinched tight on the awesome 
length of his member. Then, nibbling his lips, rubbing her cheek on his 
whiskers, she whispered, "My pussy's so hot. Feel." 

Guiding his hand to her cunthole, she opened her vulva, pressed two fingers 
into the wetness and closed tight. "It needs you. It wants more than 
anything for your big dick to fuck it. Put it in me, Uncle John. All the way 
up my belly. Make me yell." 

"You... you like being hurt?" Uncle John was incredulous. He stared at her 
with the eyes of a man who had spent most of his life straight-fucking, and 
knew nothing of the joys -the overpowering captivation Diane herself didn't 
yet fully understand-of perversion. 

"Hurt?" Diane, too, was incredulous. "It doesn't hurt, Uncle John. Whipping 
hurts at first. And like that. But fucking is wonderful." 

Uncle John stared at her a moment more. Then his cock shot up stiff between 
her legs. He pulled her close, murmured her name over and over, and began to 
saw himself slowly back and forth in the pinched crack of her ass. 

Is that what he wanted, Diane wondered. She leaned forward, spreading the 
cheeks of her ass, making her asshole more accessible. Now she remembered 
times when she was a little girl and heard strange strangled noises coming 
from the bedroom where her uncle and aunt slept. Now she knew, could tie the 
memory noises in with the sounds she herself made when Skeet and Sammy and 
Tony had spiked her behind. "Like Aunt Margaret," she told her uncle. "In... 
in back. You can do it that way. I don't care." 

Uncle John kissed her. He mashed her lips so hard she thought sure her teeth 
were coming through the skin. She felt his hand on her bottom, felt one 
cheek of her ass being lifted. She helped. Shifting her weight to one hip, 
she reached under, took firm hold of his swipe, and set the fat tip at the 
hot mouth of her rectum. Then she let herself down... drawing the glans in 
past her tight sphincters... pressing his fingers hard into her cunthole... 
moving round and round and down the stiff meat standing up from his lap. The 
pain made her wince. He was bigger than she'd ever imagined a prick could 
be. But she continued to press-loving the hurt because afterward, after 
penetration, came bliss-the delicious thrill of a big cock stoking in and 
out of her belly, working toward orgasm that would satisfy her. 

Uncle John broke the kiss. "Jesus! You ah! Ah, honey, it's no good this 
way." 

Diane knew what he meant. With her in his lap, pressing down, he couldn't 
push. And it would take an awful lot of pushing, she thought, lunge after 
mighty lunge, to drive his magnificent swipe up her little backside. A 
sudden thought struck her, another memory from the cabin tucked away in the 
Palos Verdes Hills. 

"I know!" Quickly Diane unshafted herself and leaped from his lap. Before 
Uncle John could blink twice, she had rearranged her body... kneeling... 
hands splayed on her buttocks, spreading the soft, tender flesh, offering 
her hot little asshole to the stake. Without hesitation, Uncle John came up 
behind her, on his knees, on the sofa. His middle finger probed through the 
tuft of wispy gold hair at her anus. 

"Oh. Oh, hurry." Diane spread her upturned cheeks even wider. She felt his 
damp breath. "OWWWWW!" He was kissing her there, flicking his tongue at her 
sphincters as she had darted hers at the knob of his cock. 

"It's beautiful," Uncle John breathed into the tiny puckered hole low 
between the succulent halves of her ass. "Let's make it wet some." He batted 
his tongue furiously at the aperture. His fingers slipped into her 
pussy-scooped juice from her cunthole. Still licking, he worked the thick 
lubricant into the target. 

"Eeeeee!" Diane threw her hips back at him. "Put it in!" she cried. "Oh 
please! Please hurry and stick it up me before I c-c-c-ummmm!" 

Uncle John obliged. Inching close on his knees, he set the head of his dick 
at the tiny brown hole it had only moments before deserted. "My fucking 
niece," he rasped. "Everyone should be so lucky to have a hot little cunt 
niece like you." 

Diane sobbed. Her hips began to gyrate without being told to. Her body knew 
exactly what to do. She held her breath and watched. By looking down, 
between her gaped open legs, she could see his big hairy balls dangling 
below the roots of the rod about to spike her. She pressed back. Again the 
bloated tip slipped in past her sphincters. "Oh, Uncle. Owwwww! Shove it! 
Fuck it all the way up me!" 

The hands on her hips crept under her belly. One cupped her pussy... 
stinkfinger agitating her clit while the meat stake burrowed in. "Ahhhhhh! 
So fucking urn! Fucking tight!" groaned Uncle John. 

"Shove harder! Push!" Dropping her head to the cushion, widening the gap, 
Diane wiggled herself onto him. She felt his hard cock boring in: humping 
inch by inch, out-in, out-in toward the slippery depths of her rectum. But 
it was too slow. She wanted all of it in her. Now! Spitting thick cream! She 
leaned further forward. Then, with all the strength she could muster, she 
ground her hips back-telling him with her body that the pain, the initial 
torture, didn't matter. 

It was as if her rectum, her tight little asshole, were cherry still, 
thought Diane as the last inch of hard swipe grated into her belly. He was 
so big! She remembered the day at the cabin when she had tried to escape and 
they caught her and Tony and Sammy fucked her in the woods. She recalled the 
magnificent ache two pistoning cocks had caused, and how later, lying in 
bed, both hot little holes stretched and gulping air, she'd reached with 
trembling fingers to reignite the button protruding from her vulva... 
thinking, wondering how such a silly thing, her clitoris, could create such 
bliss. Now she wondered again. She felt Uncle John's fingers stoking her 
cunthole, felt the glans of his prick throbbing-all the way up in her 
stomach, it seemed-wiggled and strained and wondered how she'd survived for 
sixteen years without hardly being aware of the delightful pink mushroom 
electrifying her pussy, her body. 

"Lay flat," gasped Uncle John. 

Diane obeyed. She felt his weight fall upon her, then felt herself being 
rolled onto her side, Uncle John close behind. She felt his knees at the 
crook of her legs. She doubled up. His cock began to slip in and out, 
smoothly now, as if the tight brown pocket had been tailor-made to his 
needs. 

"This is the way me and your... ummm! Aunt Margaret used to do it," 
whispered Uncle John. One hand on her pussy, fingers deep, he raised the 
other hand to her breasts. He taunted the nipple. "Her asshole ahhh! was 
almost as good as yours. But not as tight. Not as f-fucking... oh Jesus! Not 
as fucking hot!" 

Diane could imagine her aunt, who had been blonde and full-bodied, 
attractive, and whose behind was four-foot wide, it seemed, bent over to 
take Uncle John's swipe. The thought made her giddy: like watching Skeet and 
Greta make love at the cabin. Watching and hearing about fucking was almost 
as good as the real thing, she'd learned. "Did... did Aunt Margaret struggle 
the first time?" she asked, recalling the fight she'd put up when Tony first 
screwed her, and again in the woods. "Did... did you have to make her? Force 
her to give?" 

"Um! You better ah! Better believe it!" grunted Uncle John, digging his 
thumbnail into her nipple, cutting the taut, tender peak, sending white-hot 
flashes through her tittie. "We'd been fucking steady for maybe a year," he 
continued, working his cock in half strokes in and out of her rear. "Then 
one night, me with a hard-on so big it would've made a mare neigh, us 
necking on the couch in her living room, I reached for a handful of pussy, 
and she said, 'No! Not tonight! I've got my period, John. You know how messy 
that is!' Well, her parents were out. And I didn't care if she had Niagara 
Falls down there. 'What's a little blood!' I told her. 'Once I get my prick 
up there, once we start fucking, you'll never know the difference.' She kept 
saying no, and I kept insisting... too hot to give a damn what she said. We 
started to wrestle-playful at first, me reaching under her dress. It was 
sort of an accident that my finger slipped up the wrong hole. 'Stop that!' 
she bleated. 'T-take it out before... before you make me s-shit!' But I 
wasn't about to stop. Because once my finger was up there, once I could feel 
those velvet muscles nipping, I thought Christ! Why hadn't I tried reaming 
her before!" His dick began to move faster. The hand from her cunt came 
around to knead a plump cheek. "Her ass was so soft," he added. "So fucking 
round and appealing." 

Diane felt the glans of the swipe in her rectum begin to breathe. She knew 
that feeling, it was the way a swipe acted just before the hot spurts of 
thick jism shot off. Her cunthole, too, was beginning to discharge puddles 
of goo. The story, the images it created, the mental picture of Aunt 
Margaret fighting to protect her rear entrance-as she herself had fought in 
the woods -made her own tight little anus suck like a mouth on the joystick 
sending shivers up the steps of her spine. 

"She hollered like a fucking banshee when I pinned her on her belly and got 
between her legs," said Uncle John. "But I was too stiff to care. So I threw 
up her dress to her waist and tore the panties from her hips before she 
could stop me. Jesus! Those big creamy melons!" He shoved his cock in to the 
hilt, held and ground against her tense buttocks. His hand returned to her 
pussy, the teasing finger massaging her hard clit once more. 

"Ohhhhhh! D-don't stop t-telling," moaned Diane. "Tell 'n' screw! Tell me 
everything!" She pressed herself back... setting a slow, tantalizing fuck 
rhythm. "Did... did she cry when you put it up-like me when Sammy first 
p-put his thing up there?" 

Uncle John kissed the back of her neck. His rod seemed twice as fat now... 
pulling out... slamming brutally into the pinched crack of her ass. "I... I 
thought she was gonna wake the whole goddamn town," he said finally. "But 
once her panties were off, once I saw those big white cheeks jiggling, so 
fucking soft, I couldn't have stopped even if I wanted to. And I didn't want 
to. So I whipped out my prick, holding her down with one hand, and set the 
tip at her asshole while she yelled and twisted and tried to crawl away. 
Motherfucker! AH! AH, HONEY! I... I'll never forget how that pretty ass 
jumped when my rod began to go in. 'Oh, no, John, stoooop!' she kept 
screaming, the words all running together. 'It's too big! It'll never go! 
It... oh, no, PLEEEEEZE!' " As if he were fucking his stiffness up Margaret 
instead of Diane and wanted to hear the cries, the protests and sobs, he 
drove his fingernails deep into the girl's tender nipple. 

"OWWWW!" Diane covered the hand on her breast and chewed her lower lip 
against the excruciating pain. Yet her hips, her pelvis, her asshole, 
unmindful of the torture, continued to grind. "You... you're h-hurting 
meee!" she wailed, pressing back, wanting, in spite of the pain, to feel his 
swipe slamming harder and faster, to feel the blast of hot semen that would 
momentarily sate the stronger, more demanding, hungry empty ache in her 
belly. 

"You're hurting me!" groaned Uncle John, echoing his niece's words as he 
went on with the story of Aunt Margaret. "But it was too late to stop. Too 
good! She tried to close her legs, but I kept pushing, watching it go, and I 
felt that tight little rear cunt stretching despite the protests. I had her 
nailed to the couch. Helpless! 'It's going!' I told her. 'No matter what you 
do! Make up your mind!' And I kept humping it in until her legs opened and 
she started to help. Boy! Did she help! Those big meaty cheeks came up off 
the cushions and wiggled and wiggled. And inside... inside like ah! Ah 
Christ! Like... like you're doing now. Inside all those sweet little muscles 
began to suck and massage the head of my prick until oh! Oh Jesus, Diane! 
Diane babeeeeee!" 

He was popping. Diane felt the first jerk- like a springloaded crossbow 
preparing to fire -threw her knees high, to her chin, and drew the thick 
pulsing shaft further still up her quivering behind. She covered the hand 
wedged tight between her thighs, worked it round and round on her pussy. She 
pressed down on the hand on her breast, tightened her sphincters, and fucked 
her soft little bottom furiously onto the shaft making ready to spit. 

"Oh Jesus! Whatever you're doing, don't stop. Don't ah! Don't fucking stop!" 

Diane turned her face toward him, offering her lips. She closed her eyes. 
"Kiss me," she sobbed. "Kiss me and fill me with cum. Hurry! Hurreeee!" 

Uncle John's wet, open lips covered hers. His tongue shot into her mouth. 
The fingers high in her cunthole reached higher still... spreading... 
pressing... molding the thin wall, the elasticlike tissue, to the fat rod up 
her rear. The darkness behind her eyelids began to spin. A tiny light in the 
distance, propelled by a supersonic jet that roared in her ears, came 
rushing into her head as the first fiery stream of thick cum blasted off in 
her belly. She gasped. Her legs, without having to be directed, as if the 
lower half of her body possessed a life of its own, straightened-trapping 
the spitting member, holding it tight with the plump cheeks of her ass, and 
milking, drawing spurt after spurt of hot cream. She didn't want it to end. 
Not ever! She worked the muscles deep in her sheath... sucking the sticky 
jism up from his balls... wanting more than the flood pouring off in her 
rectum, seeping out and down the inside of her thighs. 

And then she was coming too... spewing juice all over Uncle John's hand and 
the slipcovers. She loosened her sphincters, allowing his dick to pull back, 
then drove her wet little asshole onto the stake once more. She repeated the 
maneuver again and again, ripping another spurt from his rod with each 
backward thrust. Until there was no more cream. Until she had to tear her 
lips from his and suck air into the lungs grown too big for her chest. Until 
they lay exhausted... Uncle John's strong, muscular arms wrapped tight 
around her... his long prick going limp in the pocket between her plump 
buttocks. 

After several minutes of silence broken only by labored breathing, Uncle 
John said, "I'm glad you're home." 

"How glad?" Diane whispered. 

"This glad." Quickly Uncle John yanked his dick from her rectum, rolled her 
onto her back, spread her legs, and buried his face, his mouth, his 
inquisitive sandpapery tongue, in the bright pink, sopping wet, swollen and 
hungry gash below the white-blonde curls of her pussy. 

 Chapter Five 

It was all very well screwing Uncle John. He was nice enough. But now that 
she was his mistress as well as his niece, and because she needed the rest, 
and because it could happen again, he said, she no longer worked at the 
store. Which was fun for a while. Until she'd done and redone everything 
that needed doing around the apartment, seen all the latest movies, read The 
Sensuous Woman, which all the girls she knew were raving about, and was 
bored. Then, no matter where her thought processes began, no matter what was 
on her mind when she awoke in the morning, by lunchtime her thoughts were 
back in the cabin in the Palos Verdes Hills. 

Darn! What in heck was wrong with her, anyway? Diane found herself wondering 
after almost a month of what Uncle John called the "good life." The fucking 
was good, she had to admit. But with all the idle time, though the bruises 
were gone from her body and the black eye healed, she had only to sit alone 
for a moment and the belt was lashing out inside her head. She had only to 
close her eyes to feel the rope at her ankle, and see Greta-the 
brat!-digging sharp little nails into her sex and thighs. Worse, she had 
only to begin to remember, to return mentally to the dingy room at the 
cabin, and her belly, her tiny pink cunthole, tightened as it did when she 
saw Uncle John's big veiny dick growing hard. It was almost as if she'd 
enjoyed the four-day adventure. Almost as if sex and what Tony and the 
others had done to her were one in the same thing. 

That was crazy! she told herself, cringing at the mere thought of the 
horrible ordeal. It was because she was lonely, she decided. Idle because 
most of the girls her own age were still in school, and, except at night 
when she and Uncle John did every weird kinky sex thing either of them could 
think of, alone in the quiet apartment, with nothing to do except remember 
and brood. The idleness ended abruptly. It was as if Fred-the tall, 
good-looking boy she'd kicked in the balls on prom night when he tried to 
feel her virgin cunt in the hall-had waited for just the right moment to 
come to the door. She was so bored she'd have welcomed DeSade himself... 
just to have someone to talk to. 

Uncle John wouldn't be home for hours, she knew, and immediately the boy 
stepped into the apartment Diane remembered that Fred was the only guy she 
knew whose cock seemed never to go down. She was suddenly glad she'd worn 
the tight jeans and halter instead of a dress. She could feel his gaze on 
her ass as she closed the door. Everyone in the neighborhood knew about what 
the kidnappers had done to her. As she turned from the door, breasts bobbing 
braless beneath the skimpy top, she was certain she detected lust envy in 
the boy's deepset brown eyes. 

Fred studied her for a moment. "You don't look any different," he announced. 

"Oh?" Diane leaned back against the door. She felt the worn denim digging 
into her cunt-lips, saw the boy's gaze drop from her face, to her crotch. 
Her pussy grew tight. "As far as I know," she said lightly, "there's only 
one way you can tell the difference between a girl who has and one who 
hasn't been screwed. And that doesn't show." 

Fred blinked. Was this the girl who had almost ruptured him when he tried to 
cop a cheap feel a few months before, he wondered. He shifted uneasily. "I 
um. I guess it doesn't. Show, I mean. But did they really do all the things 
it said in the papers? I mean... tie you down, and...?" 

It was Diane's turn to study him. It was obvious he'd come calling with sex 
in mind and just as obvious he was perplexed, even amazed, by her boldness. 
She liked the feeling of being able to unsettle a man. And she adored the 
thing beginning to show signs of life in his pants-leg. Slowly she moved 
across the living room, to the sofa. She sat. Patting the cushion beside 
her, she said, "If you mean did they do what you wanted to do that night at 
school-well, that's only part of it." She wiggled her ass into a corner, 
against the armrest, raised one knee and gave him an unhampered view of the 
puffy V atop and between her full thighs. She watched his eyes widen. "They 
fucked me every which-way!" she added. 

Flopping beside her, apparently having decided she was for real and might 
even be considering giving him some, Fred grinned. "Sounds like you dug 
being kidnapped." 

Diane cocked her head at him. "I guess I did. Some of it, anyway. I 
guess-well, I guess I'm sorry I didn't try it before. Sex and like that. You 
know? Like that night at school. In the hall. When I let you kiss me and you 
tried to put your hand on my... up my pussy." 

"Man!" Fred inched closer. He cupped his nuts. "Do I ever remember that! I 
can still feel the kick." 

Staring deep into his eyes, cunthole beginning to leak and make the panties 
and jeans uncomfortable, Diane covered his hand. The boy gulped. "Is it 
still sore?" she breathed. "Your swipe? Is it mad at me for being an ole 
meanie?" 

"Holy fuckin' cow!" Fred snatched his hand away... leaving her knowing 
fingers, her palm, curled at the crotch of his pants. His prick shot up 
tall. Tentatively he touched her thigh. "Man! I never expected... I mean, I 
never thought you'd... well, shit! I came over thinking maybe me 'n' you 
could have some fun. But I never expected this! Man!" 

Diane giggled. Men were all alike, she was learning. They expected a girl to 
be a frightened dumbhead, and were lost, dumbfounded to find one who was 
actually anxious to screw. She moved her hand along the stiffness in his 
pants-leg. She watched his eyes narrow as her fingers crept up, to the 
zipper at the top of his fly, and began to toy with the little brass tong. 

A sudden change came over Fred. As if her willingness had triggered a need 
to exert himself, as if something primeval within him had been released, he 
fell hungrily upon her. His bruising lips covered hers and his hand, the one 
high on her thigh, shot up to the puffy V between her legs. The other hand 
shot beneath the hem of her halter. When his fingers encountered bare flesh, 
found her taut nipple, all signs of restraint disappeared. He forced her 
back, over the arm of the sofa, scrambled atop her arched body and pressed 
the stiffness in his pantsleg into the heated pocket at the crotch of the 
tight dungarees. 

Diane gasped. Where a moment before she had been anxious to feel the boy's 
prick burrowing into her belly, she now tried to push him away. He was 
hurting her: bending her back over the armrest, sending flashes of fire up 
her bowed spine. She fought. But his weight held her pinned. It was as if 
she were back in the cabin, and Tony, as he'd done the first day, was pawing 
her titties, her cunt, about to take what he wanted. 

Finally she managed to tear her lips away. "Let me... oh! Oh, you're 
hur-hurting meee! Let me gooo!" 

"Shit! You dig being hurt. You said so yourself a little while ago. Now 
gimme some pussy or else!" The boy's stubby fingers undid the zipper at her 
crotch. His hand dove inside the denim. His fingers forced their way into 
the dampness where the panties lay sunk deep in her tender cuntlips. 

Again Diane gasped. But now, the tingling in her pussy vying with the hurt 
in her spine, she struggled less to get away than to get comfortable. 
Shifting, raising her knees on either side of the boy, she managed to wiggle 
down until only her shoulders lay on the armrest. The fingers stabbing into 
her cunthole withdrew for a moment. She felt Fred's hands at the waistband 
of the jeans. She lifted her buttocks. Then the denim and nylon were gone, 
bunched at the top of her thighs, and the fingers were back ,.. spreading 
the wet lips of her vulva... taunting her clit... poking roughly into the 
shivery pink folds of her love nest. 

"Jeez! I never seen a blonde one before." Abandoning her tits, pressing her 
hand tight to the ferocious thing in his pants, Fred stared in wonder at the 
white-blonde ringlets between Diane's alabaster thighs. 

"Don't... ow! D-don't finger so hard." 

"Shit!" The boy forced his fingers even deeper. "I bet they did worse to you 
at the cabin." 

Diane squirmed. The mixture of pain and pleasure was confusing. Her pussy 
seemed to cry, Fuck me! Fuck me! But her mind, the revulsion she'd 
experienced when Tony and the others played wanton games on her body, 
continued to protest. Her pussy won. For although she had told the boy to 
stop, to be gentle, her own fingers fumbled frantically at his fly. The 
zipper opened. Feverishly she groped for the stiff meat that would quell the 
ache in her belly. 

"Manomanomano-fucking man!" Fred thrusted his bloated cock into her hand. 

"It... it's almost as big as Uncle John's," whispered Diane, working the 
loose outer jacket, whacking him off. 

Fred stared hard into her eyes. Disbelief showed on his face. "You mean 
you'n' your uncle...?" 

"Ummm." Diane squeezed the fat tip of his swipe, steered it to her swollen 
wedge, and gently rubbed the stiffness in her silky cunt-hair. "Ever since I 
came home. He... he fucked my ass the first day. And I sucked him off. And 
then he sucked me. And now we do ah!-" She threw her hips into the fingers 
digging cruelly into her sex-"now we do everything!" 

Fred made an incoherent sound. The fingers not working her vulva dug deep in 
the tight crack of her ass, into her anus. His nails were sharp. Diane felt 
them scraping painfully past her sphincters. She closed her eyes, bit her 
lip... remembering the excited look on Greta's gamine face each time the 
younger girl was given an opportunity to use the little red daggers at the 
end of her fingers. She heard Fred say, "Let's go in the bedroom." She 
allowed him to help her up from the sofa. Limply she fell into his arms... 
dizzy with the feel of his dick pressing into the space at the top of her 
thighs as he kissed her. 

Moaning, wanting to feel his big prick stabbing into her cunthole, Diane lay 
still while Fred yanked the jeans and panties from her trembling legs. 
Wide-eyed she watched him drop his pants and shorts. She waited. But Fred 
merely stood beside the bed, staring. For a moment she wondered what he was 
up to. Understanding suddenly dawned. She moved willingly to the edge of the 
mattress; lifted her ass when he raised her legs to his waist, and locked 
her ankles. She felt his dick poking blindly at her sex. "Let me. Oh, let me 
put it in," she gasped, taking hold of his hard-on and setting the glans at 
the wet mouth of her vulva. 

"Man! You're some fucking hot cunt once you get going!" Fred's hands moved 
up the back of her thighs, to the plump, quivering cheeks of her ass. 
"Mother!" he gulped. 

Hips raised, lower body suspended beyond the edge of the bed, Diane drove 
her nipping cunthole onto the boy's magnificent member. "Oh. Oh, fuck it 
into me." 

Fred lunged. Gripping the halves of her ass, standing with feet wide apart 
between her scissored legs, he drove the entire length of his meat into her 
tight cunthole. His stinkfinger once again sought her anus, drilled in. 
Grunting, he ground his cockhair, the roots of his rod, into her vulva. 

Diane whimpered and strained to draw even more cock into her belly. It was 
good. So good! she thought. Her cunt was ablaze with the need to feel a 
prick shooting. Her asshole opened and closed, breathing, sucking on the 
stubby dart high in her rectum. Now she wished they'd long enough to take 
off her halter. The garment was cumbersome-had ridden up, and now felt as if 
it were choking the air from her lungs. But she knew Fred was too excited to 
stop... to pause for the moment it would take to shed the top. She threw 
back her arms over her head, forced thoughts of the confining halter from 
her mind, and concentrated on the fat cock, the stiffness she could see only 
the base of, jerking like an unruly vibrator at the top of her vagina. 

Slowly Fred began to fuck. Diane watched the long cylinder-now aglisten, 
slippery with juice from her cunt-glide out, then bore smoothly back into 
the depths of her swollen pussy. She felt the hot tip open the tight, inner 
folds... felt the folds come together as the boy pulled back for another 
stab. What an exquisite contraption her little cunthole was! she thought. 
Looking into the bright pinkness, as she had done almost every night with a 
mirror since returning home, was like staring into a cut in a piece of raw 
beef. It appeared uncomplicated enough. But once her tiny clit grew hard -as 
it did at the slightest provocation, the slightest touch, the slightest 
friction-once the lubricants began to flow and the outer lips puffed up, it 
became the most complex, most adorable slab of inverted raw meat in the 
world. 

And a cock! thought Diane, churning her ass, her wet cunt, in time to the 
boy's quickening rhythm. There was nothing more lovely than a big dick ready 
to explode, a stiff swipe in search of a hole to spit into. She tightened 
her excited asshole on Fred's finger... remembering the first day at the 
cabin when Tony and Sammy had fucked her in both places at once. Now she 
wished for another long swipe, another pistoning joystick burrowing into the 
grotto between her soft buttocks where a finger could do little more than 
annoy. 

"Oh, man! MAN!" Yanking his finger from her anus, digging his nails brutally 
into the tender halves of her ass, Fred shoved his prick into her to the 
hilt. He held-grinding hairy balls like deflated balloons against her 
cheeks. 

"Oh God. Oh God, shoot. Shoot! Shoot! Shoooooot!" Diane reached up for him. 
She wanted to feel his weight upon her. She wanted to kiss him, suck his 
tongue... close her eyes and pretend she was sucking a cock when the cum 
blasted off in her belly. 

Without breaking contact, Fred obliged. He dropped heavily, pressing her 
into the mattress, knocking the breath from her lungs. "I... I'm coming," he 
gasped. "Man, what a fuck. What a fucking cunt you got, Di. What a sweet 
little..." 

Diane kissed him. She, too, was about to reach orgasm and was impatient to 
have his tongue deep in her mouth. Opening her lips, she sucked. Moving her 
legs higher on his back, almost to his shoulders, she worked her inner cunt 
muscles on the fiery glans expanding and contracting within her... straining 
to reach the place where nothing except pulsating pussies and fat throbbing 
joints mattered; where sticky cunt-juice and jism united, sending white-hot 
thrills through sweating bodies caught in the blind grip of consuming 
passion. 

"Ah Christ! AHHHHHHHH!" Fred's teeth sank deep into her full lower lip. 

Diane tasted warm blood. Tears stung her eyes. But there was another kind of 
warmth, another kind of stinging, flooding her sex. Moaning, making noises 
like a hurt animal, she tightened her legs-squeezing with all her might, 
digging her nails through the boy's shirt, into his back, and pumping her 
sopping wet cunthole onto his cock. 

"Christ, that's ah! Good! Christ! Christ! Jesus fucking Mary and Joseph and 
Christ!" Fred groaned as the first spurt of hot cream flew from the head of 
his prick. His hands abandoned her ass, gripped the high neck of the halter, 
and yanked. 

"D-don't rip i...!" Too late! Diane felt the garment give at the seam. Her 
titties sprang free. She felt his moist breath on her flesh, watched him 
draw one rigid pink nipple into his mouth and reach for her bucking behind 
once more. She forgot the halter. Her asshole recaptured his finger. She 
forgot everything except the thick semen pissing off deep in her pussy. Her 
clit, the sensitive core of her being, it seemed, was a tuning fork playing 
the notes of a sweet primeval tune on her thighs, her belly, front and rear 
hole. "Ow. OWWWWWWWW!" she cried. "All! All of it! Fuck it up my belly. 
Fuckit! Fuckit! Fuck it all into me!" 

Humping, slamming his rod, his balls, his bramblebush cockhair into her 
dripping cunt, Fred bit down on her nipple, again drawing blood. But Diane 
didn't care. It was horrid of her, she knew. Shameful! Wanton! But she no 
longer could help herself. No longer could she resist the exquisite 
sensations a stiff dick triggered. She was coming... alive with the wonder 
of having yet another big swipe fill her vagina with goo. She held his face, 
his nipping teeth, to her breast, closed her eyes tight, and fucked and 
fucked and fucked her insatiable white-blonde pussy up off the bed. 

When it was over, when the boy's dick had stopped spitting and lost some of 
its fullness, and Diane's legs were too weak to remain locked at his waist, 
they rested. They lay face to face, on their sides, petting. Diane thought 
back -to when she was a virgin saving her body for Mr. Right. To when her 
lovely little blonde wedge was a treasure she protected with the ferocity of 
a mother cat protecting its kittens. And now, she wondered. Was this brazen 
girl, this shameless body milking the last icky goo from Fred's rod, was 
this her? It seemed incredible that such a change could come about in such a 
short time. And for a moment she felt the old revulsion, the indignation, 
the horror of being violated she'd experienced at the cabin. What had they 
done to her? True, the bruises outside were healed. But within, deep in her 
sex, there was an unhealable scar; a hungry emptiness where, only a month 
before, her maidenhead, her tight little cherry, had rested serenely, 
content to wait. 

Grinning, moving his fingers slowly up and down the deep crack of her ass, 
Fred said, "That was the best fucking piece ever. Man! I knew you'd be good. 
But I never thought you'd dig it all this much." 

Diane chewed her lip. She wanted to shout, "Take your hands off me! I'm 
not... I... I'm a good girl!" But the words wouldn't come. The only thing 
coming was the tiny pink bud in her cunthole. That was coming back to 
life... demanding attention... crying out for the bludgeoning caress of a 
cock. 

Fingering her asshole, dick still in her pussy and growing hard once more, 
Fred asked, "Is it true? What the papers said, I mean-about all three 
screwing you at once?" 

The papers! thought Diane. The darn, stupid papers! Did they have to tell 
everyone? "I... I..." she faltered. 

"Man!" Fred's mouth sought her neck. Noisily he sucked a hickey into the 
creamy flesh below her shell-like ear. 

Diane began to move restlessly. Now she remembered how Tony and the others 
had done what they called "gang-banging," three cocks at once, slamming into 
her body at both ends. "They... they made me do it," she heard herself say. 
"F-first Tony. He... he made me get on my elbows and knees over him. I... I 
didn't want to. 'Oh, please!' I begged. 'PLEASE!' But it was no use. He... 
he had his swipe up my pussy, and was holding my ass, spreading the cheeks 
so I couldn't back off when Sammy came up behind. It... it was h-horrible! I 
felt Sammy pushing in... s-s-sticking his big dick up... up my rectum. I 
yelled. I fought them. But he kept humping-all the way up to my tonsils, it 
seemed. And it hurt. It hurt something awful because I was dry back there, 
and he kept fucking, fucking, fucking it into me. And then Skeet. Oh God. 
God!" She sobbed, remembering the feel of two hard pricks in her belly, and 
a third, a bobbing, nozzle-tipped pole, inching close to her face. 
"S-S-Skeet was on his knees at the head of the bed," she continued, voice 
atremble. "He... he pulled my hair when I tried to twist away. 'Not that!' I 
screamed. 'Oh, anything but;..!' But before I could finish, even before the 
words were out of my mouth, he was forcing his long, veiny dick, the tip 
still smelling of cunt because he'd just finished with Greta, against my 
lips. 'I won't. I woooooooon't!' I kept telling them. Then Greta -that brat! 
That horrid little bitch! She... she came and sat on the edge of the bed, 
and giggled, and... and..." 

Fred yanked his meat from her sloppy wet love hole. Taking hold of the slick 
shaft, he set the glans in the tuft of soft hair at her anus. "What'd she 
do? Tell me!" 

Moaning, Diane felt the boy's rod poking her asshole and recalled how Greta, 
fucking Greta! had used her fingernails. "She... she dug her... her nails 
into m-my breasts. 'You... you're hurting meee!' I cried. 'Stop! Oh please, 
stooop!' But she'd already done what she set out to do-made me open my lips 
so Skeet could force his big stinking cock into my face." Panting, 
remembering, she lifted one leg, threw it over Fred's thigh, making the 
crack of her ass, her tight asshole, more accessible. She felt the swollen 
head of his swipe slipping in. Wiggling, she inched down... down onto the 
glans... down the stiff shaft, working her sphincters like suction cups, 
drawing him in, in... into the hot, slippery walls of her anxious rectum. 

They fucked quietly for a moment. Until Fred, apparently having envisioned 
the scene at the cabin, stopped humping and asked, "Did you like sucking his 
cock? I mean-after he'd fucked the other girl?" 

"Nooo!" 

"Well, you're gonna suck mine!" Without waiting for her to reply, the boy 
yanked his shit-smeared rod from her anus. 

Diane was too stunned to fight. Bug-eyed she watched Fred straddle her chest 
and steer the filthy tip of his prick to her lips. She smelled her own shit, 
saw the icky brown stuff clinging to the length of his member. Her mind 
recoiled. But her mouth, as if her mind no longer controlled her body, 
willingly formed a wide O. 

"That's it, babe. Man! Suck it! Suck it clean!" The boy thrusted his bloated 
dick into her face. 

Gagging, tasting her own waste, but unable to still the burning need in her 
pussy, Diane sucked the awful thing into the moist warmth of her throat. She 
gurgled, watched his lower abdomen come closer and closer until there was 
nothing except wrinkled balls and a black forest of coarse cockhair outside 
her lips. Like the forest in the Palos Verdes Hills! she thought. And Fred 
was like Tony and Sammy and Skeet. They were all the same-Uncle John, the 
thugs, Fred. They seemed to take pleasure in making her do the most terrible 
things. And she, her body, her cunthole and rectum and mouth, seemed not to 
care what perversions she was constantly being subjected to. 

Hands cupped on either side of her face, dick jerking, nearing another 
blastoff, Fred worked his hips rapidly forward and back. "Man! Tho... 
thought you said you didn't... oh, man! Good fucking manomanoman! Thought 
you didn't like sucking a dirty rod." 

"I don't...!" 

"Fuck you don't! I never seen a ah! Ah, suck it, baby. Suck! I never seen a 
cunt who liked it like you." 

But I don't! Diane protested mentally. She despised the taste, the smell, of 
her asshole. And the stink, the acrid odor of sweat from his sacs, was 
making her nauseous. Yet she sucked. She welcomed the thrust of his swipe, 
drew deep on the tip with each forward lunge, and became frightened, almost 
hysterical, when he pulled back and the fiery, pulsing glans almost popped 
from her face. 

"Baby. Ba-beeeeeee!" Fred slammed his meat into her. 

Gasping, choking on the knob of the cock poking through the back of her 
skull, it seemed, Diane felt the first gob of semen spew off in her mouth. 
Greedily she gulped it down. Wrapping her arms tight around the boy's hips, 
she held him close, cockhair mashed to her face, and sucked and sucked as 
spurt after delicious spurt ricocheted off the roof of her mouth and slid 
smoothly, hot and slightly salty, down her throat and into her tense belly. 
It was as if the thick jism had found a way to her cunthole from the inside. 
For as the last drop trickled off, her pussy, the tiny pink bud protruding 
from the swollen outer lips, vibrated-as if touched by a cattle prod-and the 
electric snap of sudden orgasm raced through her body. She squealed and 
sucked even harder. Knees raised, legs wide apart, she gulped cum and fucked 
her cunt up off the bed and onto her invisible lover. 

It was dusk when Diane awoke to find Fred had gone. She blinked into the 
hazy bars of light cutting across her nakedness from the blinds on the 
window beside the bed. Had she passed out, she wondered. It had happened 
before. At the cabin, overcome with shame because of what they'd done to 
her, and because her body, against her will, had complied, she'd retreated 
into unconsciousness half a dozen times. 

Tremulously Diane sighed. Looking about the room, she wondered what would 
become of her. At one time, before the kidnapping, she'd wanted nothing more 
than to marry, settle down, and raise a family. And now? She no longer knew! 
She knew only that fucking was good, so good. But fucking, it seemed, always 
led to perversion. Everyone-Uncle John, Fred, the men and boys who stared at 
her when she walked down the street or went into a store- knew what Tony and 
the others had done to her. And no matter how it began, no matter how 
anxious a swipe was to burrow into her pussy, it always ended with sucking 
and hurting and shame. 

Glancing down the length of her lovely, young body, Diane saw the goo, the 
hardening cum, in the little white-blonde coils of hair crowning her sex. 
Tears sprang to her eyes. The poor thing! she thought. What abuse it had 
been forced to endure! And now, because of the fire the thugs at the cabin 
had ignited, because of the emptiness that throbbed like a toothache when a 
stiff cock came near, she herself was subjecting the sweet curly wedge to 
violation, to shame after shame. 

"What's wrong with me, anyway?" she blurted, the tears running down her 
flushed cheeks. 

But there was no ready answer; none she knew of. Only the need. The burning 
demand in her cunthole. The butterflies in her belly. Even now, with Fred 
gone no more than an hour, she supposed, she was thinking about Uncle John 
and what they would do, what new kinky sex game they'd play when he came 
home from work. He'd kiss her, she knew. Then, even before supper was on the 
table, as had happened every night since she came home, his fat awesome 
prick would get hard, harder than steel and...! 

Silently Diane wept. But her breathing grew labored, loud and ragged, as she 
tried to guess, tried to imagine, where Uncle John-tall, handsome Uncle 
John-would stick his big dick when he came in and found her naked and 
waiting. 

John entered the apartment, expecting to find his niece in the living room. 
But the lights were out, the place quiet. He called. No answer! Where in 
hell was she, he wondered. His gaze settled on the open bedroom door. 
Quickly he crossed the room, stopped. 

"Jesus!" he breathed as he saw her... asleep, back to the door, legs curled 
up to her breasts, and lovely white ass, the split dark and alluring, toward 
him. He couldn't get enough of the girl, it seemed. He had only to glance at 
her, to see her high tits straining against the tight clothes she wore, and 
he was hard. Now, staring at her nakedness bathed in diffused light from the 
window, his joint stood tall, ready to pump cum into the hot hairy hole 
between the soft halves of her bottom. 

Silent, not wanting to wake her, he approached the bed, sat. There was 
something special about a sleeping nymphet, he mused. Even with Margaret, in 
the beginning, he recalled, he'd made it a point to awake first in the 
morning. And while she slept, on her side, just as Diane now was sleeping, 
he'd slip low on the bed, press his face close to the underside of her wide 
ass, and smell and lick both delectable holes until she began to squirm. 
Then good fucking! Lots of good fucking and sucking because Margaret had 
been at her best, her hottest, when she awoke in the morning. 

Bending close, mouth within inches of the space at the back of Diane's 
creamy thighs, he drank deep of the smell of her asshole, her little pink 
and blonde cunt. What they were doing was wrong, he knew. Incest! An ugly 
word! But he no longer could help himself. The girl was too lovely, too 
willing. Her tight white-blonde pussy was the absolute best he'd ever had. 
And no matter how often he tried to convince himself that what they were 
doing was sinful, that fucking his niece was evil, it was like telling an 
alcoholic not to take the next drink. 

Diane stirred as his tongue flicked up the sweet crack of her ass. John 
backed off... waiting for her to settle into deep slumber once more. His 
dick throbbed, aching to be sheathed. He stood. Gaze riveted to the girl's 
succulent behind, he undid his belt, his fly. He let the pants fall; pushed 
the shorts down his legs, stepped out of both garments and hurriedly 
unbuttoned his shirt. His chest felt tight. And there was a tightness in his 
balls-an urge- no! A demand!-for a hole to deposit what seemed to be gallons 
of boiling semen. Stepping out of his shoes, flinging his socks across the 
room, he eased his bulk onto the bed, close behind her. His rod seemed to be 
two feet long: jumping, unwilling to wait another moment. 

"Honey," he whispered, moving his fingers down the split in her ass to the 
tuft of down at her anus. Finding the tiny, puckered hole, he probed. He 
loved every inch of the girl's perfect young body. But her bottom, the 
smooth, jiggly half moons of flesh-like cushions at the top of her 
thighs-were special. He loved most of all watching her cheeks tighten as his 
cock speared them open and drilled home. Now, using his fingers to spread 
the soft halves, he set the bloated tip of his prick at the mouth of the 
thing he adored. 

Again Diane stirred in her sleep... this time pressing back, anus breathing, 
opening for penetration. John groaned. He felt her hot sphincters, like silk 
clamps, close tight on the head of his member. Even in sleep! he thought. 
The girl was always ready to fuck, always willing to take his dick wherever 
he decided to put it. He pressed forward... pushing in an inch at a time... 
wanting her to remain asleep... drunk with the delicious sensation, the 
dual, illicit pleasure of incest and pretended rape. 

Prick a third of the way up the girl's rectum, John reached around to cup 
her blonde pussy. Soft! he thought, rubbing, gently massaging her mound. He 
heard her sigh... almost a moan. He continued to rub until her hips began an 
almost imperceptible dance. Was she dreaming, he wondered, getting laid in 
her sleep, too? And, if so, was she dreaming of him or someone else? A frown 
cut into John's brow. The thought of Diane fucking for someone else, even 
dreaming of another, made him angry. She was his now-no one else's! They 
were tied together by the bond of their illicit lovemaking. 

He glanced down to where his cock protruded from the girl's miniature 
asshole. She was so small, so fragile. Yet she'd undergone every perversion 
imaginable at the hand of her kidnappers, and could take a dick-his 
ferocious pole -that had struck terror into the hearts of grown women with 
cunts and assholes twice the size of the nipping aperture he now burrowed 
in. His stinkfinger sought the indentation at the top of her cuntlips. Still 
rubbing, using the palm of his hand to excite her, he found and teased her 
hard clit. Her hips began to move faster... drawing him in... asshole 
sucking at the portion of cock not yet embedded. 

Unable to resist a moment more, the velvet walls of the girl's rectum 
sending whitehot flashes down the length of his rod, John pulled back and 
lunged. 

"Huh?" Diane's hazel eyes fluttered open. "Fred? Is that y-you?" 

"It's me, honey. Your ole horny uncle." 

"Oh. Uncle John. I... owwwwww! Ummmmm!" 

Pulling back once more, John thrusted the last inches of dick up her plump 
bottom. "Ummra is right. Your asshole is better every-time. But who the fuck 
is Fred?" 

"I... I was d-dreaming." Diane looked shyly back over her shoulder. But 
there was nothing shy in the increased motion of her hips, her buttocks. Now 
that she was awake, aware of what was happening, the gentle gyration became 
a wanton, insistent bump and grind. The cheeks of her ass rubbed sensuously 
together against his coarse cockhair. 

John allowed his prick the pleasure of basking motionless in its tight 
burrow. The frown returned to his brow. He felt it cutting into his face as 
the thought of another-Fred! whomever he was-doing to Diane what he was 
doing cut into his wrath. Driving his fingers deep in her pussy, intending 
to hurt, to punish, to make her tell him what he needed to know, he forgot 
for a moment how good it was to fuck in and out of her asshole, and 
concentrated on the one word: Fred! 

"Oh, don't. Don't!" Diane tried to pull away. 

"If you were dreaming about someone named Fred," growled John, "then there 
must be a Fred. Who is he?" 

Diane squirmed. "You... you're h-hurting meee. My... my oh! OWWWWWWWWW! 
M-myp-p-pussy!" 

Relentlessly John dug his fingers, his nails, into the sensitive walls of 
his niece's sex. The tears in her wide frightened eyes made him more 
determined, more cruel. She was his! His to do with what he chose! He 
withdrew until the tip of his dick almost escaped, and rammed the entire 
length back up her quivering backside. Curling his fingers deep in her cunt, 
scraping the wails with his nails, he said, "If I catch you fucking for 
anyone else I'll..." 

Diane screamed as the fingers in her pussy tore across the tender tip of her 
clitoris. "Oh, I won't! I w-won't do it for anyone else EVER," she cried, 
tears streaming down her face, spasms wracking her body. "PLEEEEEEEEEZE!" 

John relented. Turning the girl onto her belly, spreading her legs wide with 
his knees, he began to fuck his joint rapidly in and out of her lovely 
behind. He held himself up on outstretched arms and watched her cheeks 
tremble. He watched her delectable asshole, her swollen sphincters, turn out 
along his dick when he pulled back, and invert when he plowed. "Move your 
ass," he told her. "Fuck for your ole uncle, honey. Fuck like you was 
fucking before." 

Sobbing, Diane lifted her hips off the bed and moved her hot little asshole 
on his bludgeoning cock. John felt the familiar nipping begin... the 
nipples, as if there were a hundred tiny mouths working along the length of 
his pistoning rod. He reached for the reading lamp at the head of the bed, 
pulled the cord and flooded the room, the girl bucking beneath him, in soft 
yellow light. Now he could see her sweet cunt-hole. He watched it open and 
close with each stab of his dick in her rectum. His gaze devoured the 
hair-the silky blonde coils, her pussy, the hot hairy hole that drove him 
half out of his mind. Panting, sweat trickling down the furrow in his back, 
he drove his prick faster and faster, in and out, deeper and deeper in the 
fiery brown velvet pocket low between the girl's jouncing buttocks. 

Diane yelled when the first blast of thick semen shot into her. Arching 
up-head high and belly and thighs cutting a trench in the mattress-she 
locked the plump halves of her ass on his spitting rod and wiggled and 
wiggled. "Oh, Uncle John," she whimpered, expanding and contracting her hot 
little asshole. "Don't stop. Oh, don't ever stop fucking your dick into 
meee!" 

 Chapter Six 

Diane fully intended to keep her promise to Uncle John. After what Fred had 
made her do, the embarrassment she felt whenever thinking about it, she 
didn't care if she never saw him again. And her uncle had hurt her something 
awful, even worse than Tony and the others. Even now, days later, her tight 
little cunthole was raw inside from his punishing nails. And he'd told her 
again and again, every day since the afternoon with Fred, that he'd beat her 
next time-put the belt to her bottom if she ever dared fuck for anyone else 
again. 

But she was thinking other thoughts now. It was a bright summer day, and the 
new hot pants and blouse she wore drew admiring stares from men and boys who 
didn't know who she was, didn't know she was Diane, the girl who'd spent 
four days being raped in a lonely cabin in the Palos Verdes Hills. Even the 
driver, as she stepped from the bus a mere block away from the moviehouse 
and an afternoon of fantasy, winked and smiled at her cute, bouncy behind. 
She didn't mind that. In fact, she liked being looked at, always had! It was 
only those who knew who she was, those aware of what she'd been through, who 
made the looks dirty, something to be ashamed of. 

But today she felt clean, alive. It might even be nice, she thought, to meet 
a boy at the movies -someone who'd flirt and offer her popcorn, which was 
silly, but fun. Someone who'd be pleasant and awkward simply because she was 
an attractive, unescorted girl. It was what she was thinking when the horn 
broke into her consciousness. She stopped, was almost knocked down by 
shoppers hurrying by. Who in the world, she wondered as the car, a long, red 
convertible-a Pontiac, she thought, but wasn't sure-made a U-turn at the 
corner and came squealing back. Her breath caught when she saw the shock of 
dark hair and grinning face thrusted out the rear window. 

"Hey, Di!" Fred waved as the car screeched to a stop at the curb. He leaned 
further out the window, looked her up and down. "So how's about a quickie?" 
he yelled, apparently unconcerned with the curious pedestrians who had 
stopped to stare at the car, and the girl-her!- in hot pants so tight they 
were stuck deep in the crack of her ass. 

"Little tramp!" an elderly woman shopper muttered under her breath. 

"Don't go with them, girlie," said a leering, beefy man in work clothes. 
"I'll take the rest of the day off 'n' you can come home with me." 

Diane wilted. Heart sinking, she watched Fred, still grinning, unruffled by 
the comments flooding her face with shame, throw open the back door of the 
car and motion her in. She knew what would happen once she stepped into the 
car. There were three of them. But she couldn't just stand there, couldn't 
endure the words making her ears ring with hot blood. Where a moment before 
she'd been happy, carefree and alive, she now felt as if she'd been lifted 
by an invisible hand and set roughly down in the horrible cabin in the Palos 
Verdes Hills. 

She felt a hand brush her ass, turned and saw the beefy man smiling with 
teeth stained brown and green with tobacco. She wanted to run. But a crowd 
had gathered-unable to get past the leerers. And now, as she stood 
helplessly among them-Fred urging her into the car, and the beefy man, 
because of the crowd, the confusion, feeling her ass with impunity-the 
horrible woman who'd called her a tramp was telling everyone she was a 
"street girl." 

Quickly, to escape the terrible strangers, the horrible woman, and brazen 
man, Diane stepped to the curb. Fred took hold of her hand. She hesitated. 
She looked back. She saw the beefy man make an obscene gesture. Without 
thinking, wanting only to get away, she allowed herself to be guided into 
the car. 

Before the car had maneuvered its way through the downtown traffic, Diane 
regretted the move. Fred had wasted no time. Despite her struggles and 
protests, despite her pleas, his hand was cupped at her crotch, and, while 
the two boys in the front seat watched-one looking hungrily back at her, the 
other, the driver, watching through the rear-view mirror-he worked his hand, 
his fingers, up the legband of the hot pants to her pussy. Diane felt his 
insistent fingers pressing the nylon panties into her sore cuntlips. She 
winced. "Please don't," she whispered, not so much troubled by the pain she 
had by now begun to accept as a part of sex, or by what Fred was doing, as 
embarrassed by the strange eyes watching their every move. "You... you can 
come to my apartment. Just me and you. M-my uncle won't be home for hours, 
and we..." 

Fred laughed. "No way, baby. What about my friends? You can't go accepting 
rides without paying the fare." He forced the panties and two fingers up her 
wet cuntlips. "Now be nice 'n' gimme a kiss." 

"Nooo! Let me out. I... I'll walk." 

Again Fred laughed. Turning to the sandy-haired boy in the front seat, he 
said, "She's a little stubborn at first. But once she gets with it... man! 
What she needs is some friendly persuasion. C'mon back here, Mike." 

"You said it!" 

Before Diane could utter another sound, the boy from the front seat, Mike, 
had scurried over, into the back of the car, and was helping Fred stretch 
her out on the cool leather. "Oh, no. NOOOOO!" she wailed, kicking at Mike's 
hands, trying to free her legs. 

"Shit! We ain't gonna hurt ya," assured Fred, trying to press his lips to 
hers, holding her torso down with the weight of his body. 

Gripping her ankles, Mike forced her legs wide... opening her cunt for the 
fingers beneath the hot pants. "Better get out of the city," he told the 
driver. "Someplace quiet. Maybe up aroun' Palos Verdes. I bet she'd dig 
that-huh, Fred?" 

"She digs this!" Fred pushed the panties aside and pressed all four stubby 
fingers, wedged together, up her dripping little love hole. 

Gasping, no longer able to speak, Diane grabbed the boy's wrist in both 
hands and tried to force the fingers away. But it was no use. The more she 
struggled, the rougher the fingers became... hurting... digging deep in her 
sore vulva. She closed her eyes tight, chewed her lip, and listened ,to the 
hum of the tires as the car turned onto the highway; the same highway they'd 
traveled the day Tony and the others robbed Uncle John's store. There was no 
escaping that day, it seemed. It was there, always present, in everyone who 
knew. 

"That's better," rasped Fred. 

Diane felt the fingers slip from her vulva. For a moment she thought he had 
relented and they were going to let her go. Then she felt Fred's fumbling 
fingers working the zipper at her waist. She sobbed as the hot pants opened. 
She held her breath as the shorts and panties were shimmied off her hips, 
down her quivering thighs... exposing her body, her sore pussy, for all in 
the car to see. 

"Jesus Christ Super Star!" gasped Mike, hands moving up the outside of her 
thighs, taking over for Fred, yanking the garments down and off her feet. 
"She's a real blonde all right. Lemme at it, man. My cock's so fucking hard 
.. Jesus!" 

Diane barely heard the boy. Her flesh burned with new shame. She 
concentrated on the hum of the tires... trying to disengage herself... to 
blot out the rape. Despite the effort, she heard the rustle of clothing as 
Fred stripped pants and shorts from his legs. If she screamed, they'd hurt 
her, she knew. But she had to do something, no matter how futile, how 
inadequate-as she'd had to do something when the strangers on the sidewalk, 
the horrible woman, the beefy man, forced her into the car. She took a deep 
breath... held it until her lungs threatened to burst. Then, as Fred 
arranged himself between her spread legs-swipe stiff, pointing down, ready 
to stab into her pussy-she yelled with all her might. 

The car bucked, as if frightened. "Shut that bitch the fuck up!" ordered the 
driver. 

Fred slapped her. Back and forth. Again and again until Diane stopped 
screaming and raised trembling hands to her smarting cheeks. Then he set the 
tip of his dick at her pulsing pink cunt-hole, and, while the sandy-haired 
boy, Mike, held her ankles, while the driver, the one with the gruff voice, 
watched through the rear-view mirror, while Diane whimpered and tried not to 
feel the delicious tingling sensation making her tiny clit jerk, the boy 
humped the length of his prick-so stiff, so long-up her white-blonde pussy. 

"Oh, motherfucker!" groaned Fred. 

Releasing her ankles, Mike moved swiftly to the other end of the car. "Let's 
get a look at them titties," he growled, sitting on the edge of the seat and 
fumbling with the buttons down the front of her blouse. 

Diane felt the breeze from the front-vent window wash over her torso. Why 
hadn't she worn a bra, she thought. If she had, if she'd taken the simple 
precaution, she reasoned hysterically, there'd be another garment, more 
protection, something more to dissuade the fingers biting into her 
breasts... arousing her pink nipples. She held her eyes tightly shut and 
tried not to think about the hands, the cock driving in and out of her 
cunthole, the driver watching. But the cock felt so good, so hard, the glans 
so round and smooth. And the other hands, the ones on her buttocks, the 
finger twisting up her pinched asshole, were forcing her hips up, up off the 
leather... driving her against her will onto the pistoning shaft. 

"Lookit 'er go! Manoman!" Fred fucked faster, slamming his stiffness 
brutally, harder and harder, into her juicy love hole. 

"Oh. Oh God!" Diane felt her legs rising up, seeking the boy's slender 
waist. 

"That's it, baby," rasped Fred. "Put 'em... oh mano-fucking man! Put them 
sweet fucking legs... ah Jesus! Man! Wrap... wrap 'em aroun' me quick!" 

Whining, mewing a sound alien to her ears, Diane obeyed. She gripped the boy 
in the vise of her trembling thighs, squeezed. Her ass churned. Her hips, as 
if suddenly plugged into an electric outlet, began to grind round and 
round... fucking her tight little pussy, her cunthole, furiously onto the 
rod stoking in and out of her belly. 

"Hurry up 'n' lemme get some while she's hot," urged Mike, stiff prick in 
hand. 

"Almost!" gasped Fred. "All... ah! Oh! Oh man, I... I'm c-coming 
n-n-noooow!" 

Diane yelled as the cream spurted off in her pussy. She worked her pelvis... 
milking... milking. She felt the hot goo seep out, down the crack of her 
ass, down the inside of her thighs, and form a small puddle on the seat. She 
slapped her buttocks into the puddle... fucking... fucking with all the 
strength in her body, all the force in her hips. 

"C'mon, man. Gimme a shot," insisted Mike, moving his hand down and over the 
swell of her round belly and into her silky white-blonde curls. 

The dick in her cunt suddenly popped free. "Owwwww!" breathed Diane. She 
opened her eyes, watched Fred push her legs from her waist, watched the 
other boy strip the clothes from his lower body. She moaned. Mike's cock was 
uncircumcised. She'd never before seen a swipe without the torpedo-shaped 
head, and now, as she stared in awe at the natural phenomena, her vulva 
twitched... crying out, it seemed, begging for the new experience. 

Fred and Mike changed places. And as the sandy-haired boy-who had sandy hair 
surrounding his balls and prick, too, noted Diane in wonder-positioned 
himself above her, ready to fill the hungry space Fred had vacated, the rod 
still wet with her cuntjuice, smelling of her vagina, bobbed close to her 
face. Her mouth filled with cottonish saliva. Now there was a need, a hunger 
in her throat, too. As the big, un-circumcised dick, Mike's joystick, found 
her hot hairy hole and began to bore in, Fred seemed to recognize the 
temptation in her gaze, raised one knee, leg cocked, and offered the slimy 
glans of his tool for sucking. 

"Boy, she's some good pussy," whispered Mike, forcing his meat up her belly, 
in short, mighty thrusts. 

"She digs sucking, too, man." Fred cupped her chin. Turning her face toward 
him, he rubbed the slick tip of his rod across her glistening lips. 

"Oh, no. N-not that," protested Diane weakly -shame making her cheeks burn 
despite the spit coagulating in her throat. She closed her mouth, moved her 
head from side to side until the fat pole in her pussy tore a strangled cry 
from her lips, and the glans, the smelly tip of the swipe in Fred's hand, 
pushed in past her teeth. 

"Holy shit! Save some for me," said the driver, swerving out from behind a 
truck he'd almost tailgated into. The car shot forward, slowed, turned right 
off the highway. The steady hum of the tires became an erratic 
thump-thumping. 

"Put your knees up," said Mike. He waited for her to comply, to form a wide 
V with her legs. Then, holding himself raised on outstretched arms, panting 
as he watched Fred force his joint into her face, he began fucking his long 
uncircumcised cock slowly in and out of the sloppy wet grotto between her 
lovely young thighs. 

Diane felt lightheaded, dizzy. She was coming, having orgasm after orgasm, 
each one better, more violent than the one before. She arched her spine and 
wiggled her ass as she'd never gyrated before. She sucked Fred's dick into 
the warmth of her mouth-not caring that her neck ached from the unnatural 
position, or that they were using her, making her a receptacle for their 
perverted desires. Her hand fluttered at the base of Fred's cock. 
Tentatively she cupped his balls. Sucking him all the way in to her throat, 
she kneaded the wrinkled sacs and kneaded the swipe in her belly with her 
inner cunt muscles. 

"Mother!" gasped Mike, stoking harder. "She... she's as tight as a... a 
fucking virgin!" 

The word brought fresh tears of regret, tears of shame, to Diane's eyes. A 
virgin! She'd never again be a virgin-never again be the sweet, innocent 
girl she was only a month before. How many swipes had sampled her charms? 
Five? Six? Six! An even half dozen! she realized... counting the one now 
fucking her pussy. And there was another in the front seat, a dick with a 
gruff voice, that would spit jism into her belly before the day ended. 

The uncircumcised rod in her belly suddenly buried itself to the hilt. 
"Fuck, baby. Wiggle!" choked Mike. Frantically he ground the roots of his 
sex, his wiry cockhair, into the sore, swollen lips of her vulva. 

"And suck!" demanded Fred, ramming his meat home, holding her face tight to 
his belly, again pissing cum. 

Diane gagged. She couldn't breathe. She was twisted, contorted, her limbs 
and neck going every whichway. And the semen-the thick goo shooting off from 
two cannons at opposite ends of her body-was triggering red and orange, 
purple and green and white flashes, inside her head. She heard 
thunderclaps-Mike's belly, as he fucked off the last of his load, slapping 
hers. She was drifting... being carried away on a noisy, Technicolor flying 
carpet. But there was nowhere to go except down. Down into the black depths. 
Down into nothingness. The voices seemed to be coming from far, far 
away-from a speck of light at the end of a tunnel of darkness. They were no 
longer moving, she realized. As she forced her eyelids open, blinking into 
the speck that had suddenly become a windowful of bright sunlight, she saw 
why. The car was parked beneath a ceiling of trees, leaves, and patches of 
blue, on a deserted dirt road. For a moment, mind still fuzzy from the 
blackout, she watched the faint breeze rustle through the overhead garden. 
Why hadn't they put the top down, she wondered. It was such a nice day-so 
warm and peaceful and relaxing-that she didn't see why they didn't make use 
of the accordion braces supporting the canvas roof of the new red car. 

"She's coming aroun'," said Fred. 

"'Bout fucking time, too," replied the gruff voice from the front seat of 
the car. 

Whimpering, Diane shut her eyes tight once more. It was all coming back to 
her... Fred, Mike, the nameless one at the wheel. They'd fucked her 
unconscious, and now, lying helpless on the seat, the sun dancing on her 
naked flesh, she was vulnerable to attack, at their mercy, available for 
fucking again and again and again. 

"Shit!" blurted Fred. "Now she's pretending. Like I didn't see her eyes 
open. Fucking cunts're crazy, man. Every last one of 'em!" 

"Naw. She ain't pretending," mocked the gruff voice. "She's still out. But I 
got somethin' that'll wake 'er up real quicklike." A moment later, the voice 
was beside her in the back of the car. "This is better than smelling salts," 
the owner of the voice added. 

Suddenly Diane was thrashing about wildly on the long plastic thing the 
driver of the car had shoved up her tender cunthole. Opening her eyes, she 
gripped the man's thick wrist, and fought silently-stunned, unable to 
believe this was happening to her-to push the horrible thing away. She'd 
heard about such devices, battery-operated dildos, but never, not in her 
wildest dreams, had she thought such a terrible thing would find its way 
into her little pink slit. 

"Hey, man. You think she likes it?" Fred spread her legs wider. 

"L-l-let me GOOO!" Diane struggled harder than she had ever fought in her 
life-harder than she'd struggled the first time at the cabin. Because now, 
while she lay helpless, Fred holding her legs and Mike trapping her hands, 
the driver, the one whose face was even uglier than his voice, slipped the 
vibrating dildo from her vagina and began pushing it, painful inch at a 
time, up between the trembling halves of her ass and into her rectum. "Oh, 
noooooo!" she cried. "N-not there. It... owwwww! It's too biiiiiiig!" 

It lasted until she was too exhausted, too numbed with pain, to fight 
anymore. Her asshole, her insides, felt as if they'd been chugged upside 
down in a cement mixer and packed back in her belly by clumsy hands. "You 
still got that blanket in the trunk?" she heard someone ask, but was too 
dizzy, too shaken by the vibrator, to ascertain who was speaking. 

"Good idea," said the gruff voice. "You get it 'n' me 'n' Fred'll get her 
outside." 

Diane watched Mike, bare buttocks toward her, step from the back seat and 
disappear around the back of the car. With the last ounce of strength in her 
legs, she kicked as Fred and the driver lifted her off the cool leather, 
and, banging her naked hips into the steel frame causing new pain, carried 
her out into bright sunlight and space... room to do whatever terrible thing 
they now had in mind. 

But what was left, wondered Diane. They'd fucked her, made her suck, and 
forced the hideous dildo up her behind. There simply wasn't an unviolated 
hole big enough to stick a dick in anywhere on her tortured young body. 
Somehow the thought gave her courage. It wasn't as if this was the first 
time, she reasoned. She knew what a cock felt like, knew its reaction no 
matter where it was put. And despite the pain, the nausea, the burning 
shame, her pussy craved fucking still. It was a fact she found horrid, 
unthinkable, but nonetheless true. 

They made her stand, Fred and the driver each holding an arm, while Mike, 
stubby uncircumcised cock bobbing half hard away from his body, arranged the 
blanket over a pile of leaves. Then the driver, fingers working deep in the 
crack of her ass, unzipped his pants. "Fred tells me you like being reamed," 
he said close to her ear. 

"I... I..." Diane faltered. 

"Just bend 'er over one time," suggested Fred. "You wanna see something go 
faster 'n that vibrator? Watch her ass when you stick a hunk of hard sausage 
up there!" He stepped in front of her. He went to work on her breasts... 
pinching the nipples... kneading the firm, creamy mounds. His dick came up 
stiff and brushed against her belly. 

"That sounds like my bag, baby. Hold tight." The driver abandoned her ass 
long enough to shed his clothes. Then he stepped up behind her once more. 
His curious fingers returned to her puckered anus, pushed in past her 
sphincters. "Show me!" he told her. "Open that sweet little asshole 'n' 
let's see you go." 

Diane didn't resist when the hand high on her back pressed forward, 
jackknifing her body. "D-d-don't h-hurt me anymore," she pleaded... wanting 
him... not wanting him... not knowing what she wanted anymore. "G-go easy. 
Please. I... I w-won't fight. I... I'll h-help, but..." 

"Sure you'll help," the ruffian growled. "I already know you like fucking. I 
watched you all the time in the car. I never seen a pretty blonde pussy snap 
like that little bird's nest you got." His fingers slipped from her asshole, 
into her cunt. "An' this tight little brown hole back here-" he pressed the 
tip of his big cock into the soft puff of fur at the mouth of her rectum- 
"this one's gonna snap just as good... or else!" 

Despite her resolve to help, to give them what they wanted without further 
resistance, Diane cried out when the driver pressed his swipe into the hole 
the vibrator had made more tender. The force of the first lunge almost 
knocked her to her knees. Instinctively she reached out for balance, 
something to hold on to. Fred was there... stiff prick jerking, waiting for 
her mouth. Oh God! Not again! she thought as the meat she'd tasted twice 
before touched her lips. 

"Hey, man. How about lettin' me get a shot of that good face," objected 
Mike, stepping up and nudging Fred aside. "Don't be greedy, man. One knobjob 
per customer." He stood with feet wide apart. Thrusting his hips, his sex, 
forward, he said, "It ain't too hard, blondie. But you suck it awhile 'n' 
it'll come up like a fucking flagpole." 

For a moment, the cock in her asshole basking before another lunge, Diane 
stared askance at the blob of meat at the tip of the joint surrounded by 
coarse, sandy hair. It was the absolute ugliest thing! 

As she watched, whining deep in her throat, clutching the boy's hips as the 
dick in her behind began to grind forward once more, Mike took hold of the 
horrid thing. She watched him draw back the foreskin. She blinked. There was 
a bulb-bright red and not much bigger than her own cute little pink 
hard-on-hiding within the strange slab of loose flesh. 

"Give it a lick," urged Mike. 

Diane stared in fascination at the miniature pecker within a pecker. Her 
tongue, without the slightest coaxing from her, flicked out. Mike grunted 
and fucked his hips forward at the same time the stiff meat in her ass 
plowed. She gasped. Her lips opened. The entire length of the boy's peculiar 
member glided into her mouth. 

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Mike cupped her face. His rod began to swell. In less time 
than it took the prick in her rectum to pull back for another lunge, the one 
in her face was full hard and jerking against her tonsils. 

From the corner of her eye, Diane saw Fred, who had been standing aside 
watching, whacking himself off, drop to his knees. Bug-eyed she watched him 
scurry forward... into the space between her legs and the boy whose rod she 
was sucking. His hands crept up the back of her thighs. "Man!" he breathed 
hotly into her pussy. "It even smells good!" 

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! OWWWWWWWW!" Hips bucking, gurgling the pleasure noises on 
the glans of the pole in her face, Diane tried to capture the tongue lapping 
her cunthole. It was her turn to grip the back of a head. Weaving her tiny 
fingers through Fred's shock of dark hair, she held his noisy mouth tight to 
her wedge, held on to Mike with her free hand, and screwed her round anxious 
ass furiously back onto the swipe digging, digging, digging in and out of 
her shoot. 

"Oh, mother! Motherfucking motherless mother-you sweet little cocksucker 
you!" 

Mike slammed his hips forward so hard his nuts jumped up and slapped the 
underside of her chin. 

Diane squealed as the bright red tip butted the roof of her mouth. It was 
suddenly heaven. Pure bliss. The pain, the residue of torture and shame, 
seemed to have fled with the first flick of Fred's tongue. And now, the dick 
in her face sliding smoothly in and out of her O-shaped lips, the one in her 
asshole twisting from side to side as it plowed, the open mouth covering her 
sex began to suck and blow. She felt the hot breath pouring into her vulva, 
felt the tongue with the texture of sandpaper washing her clit, and knew-at 
the very least-she was going to black out again. Now she fought the dizzy 
sensation, fought the darkness that had meant escape before. For although it 
was impossible to breathe, although the trees and sky and ground were 
spinning, there was a thirst in her gullet, her rectum-a thirst which only 
the gushing of thick cream could quench. A thirst so demanding, so powerful, 
she made loud sucking noises each time Mike pulled back, fearing he might 
pop free. A fever so strong her sphincters seemed to have grown fingers to 
yank the rod reaming her rectum back in to the roots each time it tried to 
retreat. She felt bloated, stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey. Yet the 
little pink slit in her pussy wanted more. It, too, wanted a cock to 
caress... something fatter and longer and harder than a tongue to wrap its 
slippery arms around and make violent love to. 

"Ummm! Um baby. Bab-baby! Your asshole nips like the jaws of a fucking 
toothless barracuda," she heard the driver, driving his throbbing joint 
faster and faster and faster into her plump bottom, say. 

"You gotta try this end," Mike countered. "Chris'sakes! I think she's trying 
to eat my fucking balls, too!" 

And then everything seemed to happen at once. The tongue licking her 
cunthole found the trigger. An automatic pistol shot bullet after bullet of 
sensation through her inner thighs. Her legs gave out. Moaning, she dropped 
to her knees on the blanket-taking the prick up her asshole down with her, 
but allowing the one fucking her face to jump free. The tiny red tip poked 
redder than red from its jacket of skin and blasted thick sticky semen into 
her eyes, her hair. The cock up her belly geysered. And Fred-fucking Fred! 
dropped almost flat... tongue refusing to relinquish its prize... fingers 
digging into the soft flesh his friend was humping between... sucking a 
continuous orgasm out of pussy while Mike tried to straddle his head and 
plant his uncircumcised swipe in her cum-spattered face once more. 

"Oh, suck me!" cried Diane. "Suck me. Suck me! Suck meeeeeeeeee!" Greedily 
she drew Mike's dancing joint back into the saliva-filled warmth of her 
mouth, pressed Fred's face with both hands to her pulsating pussy, and 
tightened her buttocks. There was only one thing Diane now regretted. She 
felt the jism oozing down her cheeks, watched cross-eyed the drop trickling 
down her pert nose. And she felt terrible about having wasted all that 
lovely white cum. 

 Chapter Seven 

John was watching at the front window when the red convertible full of boys 
delivered Diane at the door. Anger made his hands tremble. The little whore! 
he thought. He'd been pacing for hours, afraid something had happened to 
her, thinking she may have been struck by a car and was lying unconscious in 
a hospital, unable to speak, to tell the doctors who she was. But worse, 
she'd been out on a gang bang! She'd been giving her hot little gash to 
another carload of thugs. Furious, he stripped the belt from his waist and 
strode to the hall door. He waited, heart thumping, imagining what he would 
do to the girl. 

Diane knew Uncle John would be angry with her. But it wasn't her fault! 
She'd simply tell him the truth; how the boys, as Tony and the others had 
done, took advantage of her. Besides, she decided, he was only her uncle, 
after all. And although she loved him, adored his big, veiny cock, she was 
his niece, not a wife, and could do what she damn well pleased. 

Nervous, wary despite the sudden spark of self-reliance, she paused on the 
stairs to straighten her clothes. Her body was numb from the waist down. Her 
cunt and asshole seemed to have joined forces-breached the gap between, 
leaving one gigantic sore gash in her lower belly. She felt the warm blood 
creep up her neck as she remembered what the boys had subjected her to. Why 
was it, she wondered. What was there about her that attracted brutes? 

She thought back to the day at the store, which seemed a lifetime ago... 
recalling how she'd defied Tony, the invisible hand gripping her virgin 
pussy when he brandished the gun and ordered her to the floor. And later, at 
the cabin, when they attacked her, how she seemed to say and do things which 
spurred them on. It was almost as if she enjoyed being hurt. Almost as if 
she instigated situations where sex and pain were synonymous. 

A nervous laugh escaped Diane's throat. The strange thoughts, the 
uncontrollable urges- drives she didn't understand-frightened her. She 
forced the thoughts from her mind. She wasn't like that! she told herself. 
It was simply a case of having been in the wrong place at the wrong time. 
She sniffled. Tucking the blouse into the waist of the hot pants, wondering 
what Uncle John was going to say, and deciding, after all, it might be best 
not to tell him where she'd been and what had occurred-might be best to 
invent a simple tale-she climbed the stairs to the apartment door. 

Immediately the girl entered the living room, John noted the disheveled 
clothing, the blush on her attractive, young face, and that her hazel eyes 
darted furtively away from his inquiring gaze. With satisfaction, he watched 
her blink at the thick leather belt in his hand. He flicked his wrist. The 
belt, like a rattlesnake striking, snapped. 

"D-don't!" Diane raised one fragile hand to her glistening lips. Stepping 
back, she stared in horror at her uncle. 

"I warned you!" roared John, intoxicated with the sudden sense of power 
tightening the muscles across his chest, down his arms, in the hand the belt 
dangled from. "I told you what you'd get if I ever caught you putting out 
for anyone but me. Now-" he made a grab for the girl. 

"Nooo!" Diane dodged, put the coffee table between her and John. "I... I 
d-d-didn't do anything. I w-went to the movies with... with a friend!" 

Then: "I saw you get out of that car not five minutes ago. Was it Fred? And 
the others? Did you give the whole fucking carload a piece?" Again he 
snapped the belt... enjoying it when the girl winced... imagining the welts 
it would raise on her lovely backside. 

"T-they made me!" cried Diane, cowering. She retreated until the back of her 
legs met the sofa and there was no place else to go. "Oh, Uncle John, it... 
it was horrible!" she offered hysterically. "I... I didn't want to. But 
Fred... and the people on the sidewalk. There was this man. And a fat woman 
who kept saying the most awful things. So I got in the car. Honest! And then 
they made me do even worse than the ones who took me away on the day of the 
robbery." She stared pleadingly up at him. 

John didn't know or care what she was talking about. He knew only that she'd 
disobeyed his orders... given herself, her body, after he warned her not to. 
Watching her, noting the way the blouse stretched tight across her breasts 
and the hot pants even tighter over her belly, he recalled the day she came 
home and summoned him to the bathroom to see the welts and bruises down her 
back. What was it like to see the girl's white buttocks grow bright pink 
under the lash of a belt, he wondered. Would she yell? Scream? And 
afterward... was it like the story she'd told about the boy whipping her 
because it made her rise up off the bed, made it better, when they screwed? 

Diane seemed to take heart by what appeared to be hesitation to use the 
belt. Lifting her small chin, squaring her shoulders and throwing her 
breasts out, she said, "Besides... I'm sixteen and can do as I please." 

The brazen little cunt! thought John. Abruptly he stepped forward, spanning 
the coffee table with one long leg, and grabbed the girl's arm. "I'll show 
you who's boss," he growled. "Do as you please, huh?" 

He flung her-yelping, the fright back in her big, babydoll eyes-onto the 
sofa. Her foot lashed out. It grazed his crotch... not enough to hurt, but 
enough to make the anger he'd nurtured while waiting for her to get home 
flare up anew. But now there was something more. As his niece struggled to 
rise from the cushions, the hot pants, askew to begin with, rode high on one 
gorgeous, full thigh. As John bounced her back down-still kicking, legs 
wide-a tuft of blonde hair, peeping from the legband of the girl's panties, 
came into view. And John's cock began to grow hard in his pantsleg. 

"They're new!" protested Diane as his fingers locked at the waistband of the 
shorts, yanked. The button at the waist of the hot pants gave. The zipper 
whizzed open. Tearing the material down her thighs, John feasted his eyes on 
the pink and white flesh, the gold down, beneath the transparent panties. 
The bulge in his pants threatening to burst through, he reached for the 
nylon undergarment. Diane rolled away. On hands and knees, she tried to 
scramble over the arm of the sofa. The belt lashed out, made a loud cracking 
sound against her upthrusted behind. "OWWWW!" 

Before she could recover from the stinging blow, John was on her... tearing 
the nylon from her hips... baring her exquisite behind. He was suddenly 
obsessed with the thought, the mental picture of his niece tied to a bed, 
being whipped. Knee at the crook of her back, he held her down. He heard her 
wail. But he couldn't resist bringing the belt down. Again it kissed her 
backside... louder! And the sound, the sight of her succulent buttocks 
pulling tight, pinching the sweet crack up her lush bottom, made him lash 
out again and again until the tender white surface was crisscrossed with 
red. 

"No moooooore!" begged Diane. "Oh! Oh God! Oh God, you're killing 
meeeeeeeee!" 

Panting, sweat pouring from his brow, John stared down at the creamy mounds, 
the thighs, the blonde fuzz growing low in the crack of the ass he adored. 
He dropped the belt. He knew he had hurt her. But not nearly as much as the 
thugs who'd held her captive for days, he reasoned. He was about to tell her 
so when the girl threw her arms around his legs, and, instead of 
recriminations, pressed her face, her mouth, to the mighty bulge in his 
pantsleg. 

John fell with her onto the cushions. No longer were they niece and 
uncle-victim and master. Now they were lovers-male and female about to form 
the pact of sexual equality. "Oh, Uncle John," sobbed Diane. "Do it to me. 
Fuck me. Please. Don't be mad anymore. Stick your big dick up my pussy and 
forget everything else." 

John kissed her. Her lips opened beneath his. He sucked her sweet breath, 
drove his tongue into the depths of her mouth. He pressed the hard meat in 
his pants into the soft, hot little pink and blonde pocket between her 
smooth, lovely thighs. His hands slid down her sides, over and under her 
hips, to the succulent melons he'd lashed out against moments before. He 
groaned. Her flesh was on fire... searing his palms as she raised up, as 
she'd told him, as had happened at the cabin when the boy applied the 
stinging belt to her ass. "Do it," Diane breathed into his mouth. Her hand 
crept down between their straining bodies to his fly. She fumbled. Her 
fingers found the zipper. 

John's hips jerked uncontrollably as the girl's slender fingers closed tight 
on the shaft of his cock. He lifted... helping her free the enraged monster. 
His hands moved back up her sides, to her blouse. He undid the buttons... 
exposing her breasts, nipples taut, standing tall, reaching out, it seemed, 
for the hungry ministrations of his lips. He covered one hot little bud, 
sucked it into his mouth, and batted his tongue against the sensitive tip. 
"Put it in for me," he croaked, unable to wait, to take the time to undress, 
humping his prick at the wet gash between her legs. "In your cunt!" he told 
her, exciting himself more by mouthing the word. "Show my dick the way home. 
The way up your pussy. Now!" 

"Oh, yes. Yes!" Working her hand down the stiff shaft, to the roots, Diane 
held the dart firmly. She raised out a knee, kicked off the shorts and 
panties and dropped the other leg over the edge of the sofa. The bright pink 
folds of her luscious inner cunt fell open. 

"Put... put it in!" commanded John. 

Diane made the subdued sound deep in her throat that held for him a way of 
negating the outside world, taking him in-as if he were merely a prick, no 
mind, no body, and her cunt-hole, her exquisite, tight and hot and wet 
little blonde wedge, was the only live thing in the universe. A shiver ran 
through his body. He gasped... experiencing for what must have been the 
hundredth time since she came home from the cabin, he estimated, the wonder 
of her velvet sheath sucking the knob of his cock into the fiery depths of 
her delectable vagina. 

"Oh. Oh, do it," whispered Diane, pumping her pelvis up off the cushions. 

John tried to restrain her. Already his joint was tingling toward orgasm. 
The slippery walls of her cunt seemed destined to draw the cum prematurely 
up from his nuts, and he didn't want it to happen, not yet. Not before he 
basked in her heat. Not before he had a chance to feel her cuntlips turn out 
and then in along the length of pistoning rod. Not so soon-before he could 
fuck her the way she deserved to be screwed. "Slow down," he told her. 
"You... you'll make me pop off too soon." 

"I want you to. I do. I dooo!" Diane did something inside her cunt that made 
him half crazy. Her little round ass refused to remain still- came up off 
the sofa and ground her curly white-blonde pussy onto his tool. 

"Not yet. No!" John bored down, pinning her flat with his weight. He watched 
her young face contort with the effort her body was making to reach orgasm. 
"Tell me about the boys," he directed, wanting to hear what new degradation 
his lovely young niece had been subjected to. "About Fred and the others. 
How many were there?" 

"T-three. They oh! Oh, Uncle John. They... they made me do the most 
t-t-terrible things." 

Sucking her taut little nipple, hands once again gripping her succulent ass, 
John set a slow, steady fuck rhythm. "Tell me!" he demanded. 

Diane sobbed. She closed her eyes tight-as if remembering. Her ass, her 
pussy, matched his pace. "F-first in the car," she said in a voice barely 
above a whisper, "Mike held my legs while Fred fucked his swipe into me. 
Then they changed places and Mike did my pussy while Fred-" she threw her 
hips high despite his weight- "put his long stinking dick in my mouth. Oh. 
Ohhh!" Again she began to gyrate furiously. 

Slipping one hand from her bottom, John splayed his fingers on her belly, 
pressed. The girl cried out in pain. He maintained the pressure until her 
hips rejoined the slow pace. "What else?" he asked. "What about the third 
boy? Did he fuck you?" 

"I... I passed out," Diane continued finally. "And when I came to we were 
parked. In the woods. And then they carried me out of the car, and all three 
oh! Oh, Uncle John! They... they fucked my asshole and pussy and made me 
suck and... and did me every whichway!" 

John could imagine the girl trapped, as he had imagined her trapped at the 
cabin, and three stiff pricks taking pleasure from her stacked little young 
body. Did she fight them, he wondered. No! he decided. He was certain she 
gave it up willingly! He was by now convinced the girl would fuck for Satan 
himself if she once saw his pole. His own pole began to dig faster... making 
soft slurping noises as it dipped smoothly in and out of her sopping wet 
hole. "They... they did me standing u-up first," Diane went on without 
prompting. "The driver -oh! Oh, he was ugly! He... he made me bend over. And 
while he fucked his big pipe up my rectum, Mike, whose s-swipe is 
uncircumcised, made me s-s-suck. And then Fred-" she made a strangled, 
pleasure noise and again her ass shot up high off the cushions-"Fred got on 
his knees, between my legs, and began to lap. His tongue... ow! Owwwwww! His 
tongue went up my pussy like... like a wet snake! Oh God. Oh God, Uncle 
John, hurry 'n' come in meeeeee!" 

But John wasn't yet ready to allow his dick to spit. It was too good. 
Fucking the girl was something you savored, he thought. Like Napolean 
brandy. Like an expensive Havana. And he knew, once the cream wiggled up 
from his sacs, once the release of orgasm gripped his body, his cock would 
go limp for a moment, would have to be coaxed back to life. He didn't want 
that. He couldn't stand-not even for the moment it would take to coax a full 
hard one more-the thought of having to take his meat out of the girl's 
luscious pussy. "What else?" he insisted, concentrating on her lips...the 
moist pinkness... the pout... envisoning a cock, his own mighty hard-on, 
slipping into her face. "Tell me, honey. What... um! What else did they do 
to you?" 

"We... we all came," breathed Diane laboriously. "But it was only the 
beginning. They only stopped long enough for Mike to push me down on the 
blanket. Then they were on me again. Fred-he said I owed him for the 
cunt-lapping. B-but he couldn't decide what he wanted to do. F-first he 
sucked on my titties like... like y-you're doing now-ow! Then... then he 
rubbed the tip of his swipe up and down the crack of my ass in the lips of 
my pussy-sort of playing while the others whacked themselves hard again. Oh! 
Oh I... I almost died when he asked for the v-v-vibrator again." 

John stopped humping. Vibrator? "What vibrator?" 

"The driver!" wailed Diane, face crinkling up, as if she were going to cry 
again. "That horrible, horrible man! He... he had an electric-like thing in 
the shape of a swipe, and when he turned it on 'n' stuck it up my 
belly-first in front, then in back, in the car, before they took me 
outside-it... it... oh, it churned up my in-sides so bad I thought sure I 
was going to pass out again. And Fred. Oh! Fucking Fred! He... he told the 
driver to get it when he finally decided what they were going to do to me." 
Her voice broke; as if the memory of what Fred had done to her, the thought 
of the vibrator, was too painful to endure. 

Now John was perplexed. For a moment he forgot the tightness caressing his 
prick, the sweet ass grinding beneath him, the nipples hot and hard and 
twanging, it seemed, against his lips. What in the world could they have 
done to her that hadn't been done before, he wondered. She'd said it 
herself, she'd been fucked every fucking whichway! And yet there she was, 
near tears, grinding, bumping, screwing her pussy up at him, but reluctant 
to go on with the story. 

Before he could ask, put the thoughts into words, Diane said, "F-F-Fred held 
the vibrator in one hand, his swipe in the other, and owwwwwww! He... he 
fucked the thing up my asshole at the same time his rod was boring in... 
into m-my t-t-twat! 'Oh, no! NO! You... you're splitting me open!' I yelled. 
'Stop! Please, I'll do anything, only don't turn it on!' But he only 
laughed. 'You fucking dig it! ' he told me. 'Now, shuddup and-!' He pushed 
the switch and started the thing moving at the same time his rod pushed the 
rest of the way up my belly. I yelled. I tried to make him stop. I pleaded 
and clawed at his face and kicked and strained because the awful thing was 
churning my insides upside down again like in the car. It... it was too big. 
B-b-bigger than... bigger than anything! Bigger than yours!" She threw her 
legs up to his waist, wrapped her arms around his neck, whimpered and began 
fucking her hot little hairy hole round and round and off and onto his hard 
dipping cock. 

A vibrator! thought John. Why hadn't he thought of that? He didn't have 
courage enough to invite another man to share his niece, he admitted. But 
he'd often wondered... was anxious to know what it felt like to have another 
stiff prick boring into the girl while they screwed. And although a vibrator 
wasn't exactly the same thing, didn't have the dexterity to improvise which 
a live dick possessed, it was, or at least he supposed it would be, better 
than nothing. 

Swiftly he glanced about the living room. His gaze settled on the bowl of 
plastic fruit- Margaret's fruit-on the coffee table. The banana! It was 
long-a foot long, at least, he estimated-and hard and bowed. And although it 
wouldn't vibrate, couldn't add the sensation a battery-operated dildo 
possessed, he could make up for that, he supposed, if he used it just right. 

"Get on top," he told the girl, hurriedly unwrapping her legs from his 
waist, and rolling until her lush little body was astraddle him. 

"Oh. Oh, Uncle John. Hurry. Shoot off. Please. Put cum Into me." 

"Undo my pants first. Push 'em down my legs." 

Diane complied. She pushed the pants down until he was able to kick them 
off. But the shorts were troublesome, too. Quickly John gripped the fly of 
the undergarment. With one mighty tug, as if the garment were made of gauze, 
he shredded and flung the bothersome shorts away. The tender insides of his 
niece's white upper thighs came gently to rest on his legs. Her hot pussy, 
without the bulk in the way, nipped down another half inch... greedy for 
more. 

"Fuck me now. Fuck me good, Uncle John. Oh, fuck me! Fuck me!" Face flushed 
and contorted, chewing her lower lip, Diane raised up suspending her 
breasts, her nipples, above his face, and wiggled her round behind, her 
pussy, her wet cunthole, up and down the meat spike in her belly. 

John had to force his hips to remain still. He wanted to slam his prick into 
her, make her cry out as he filled her delectable sheath with thick goo. 
Instead, he watched her hazel eyes widen as he reached out, groping for the 
banana. His fingers closed around the yellow monster. It was fatter-maybe 
too fat-thicker than he'd estimated. But he had to try, had to simulate a 
dildo, the vibrator she'd told him about, and see what it was like to fuck 
with another cock reaming out her plump ass. 

"Wha...?" Diane gasped as he steered one end of the long piece of plastic to 
her up-thrusted behind. 

"Hold still," he directed. 

"N-N-NOOO!" 

But he had already found the hot little hole and was pushing, forcing the 
make-believe dick inch by inch up her quivering bottom. God, she was tight! 
It went in so slowly he wondered about getting the entire length up between 
her cute cheeks. But he had to have her that way. Even though she tried to 
escape by leaning far forward... only making it better... struggling the way 
she'd fought, he supposed, when the three thugs first got her to the cabin 
at Palos Verdes. His free hand clamped tight on her ass... fingers deep in 
the crack above the invading banana. 

"Uncle Jooooooooohn!" 

He felt the walls of her upper vagina close tight on the glans of his cock; 
felt the tiny bud inside her cuntlips vibrate against the thick shaft, and 
knew she was having an orgasm. And then another. And another as he pushed 
all but a few paltry inches of the banana up her brown velvet chute. He 
groaned. Inside, along the bowed underside of his joint, he could feel the 
hard plastic-could feel her rectum, the thin membrane between front and rear 
passage, twanging like the strings on a violin. He released the banana, left 
the short end protruding from her gaped open asshole, gripped the trembling 
halves of her ass, and humped. The force of his drive threw the girl high in 
the air. She gasped and came down... cunt drawing his stiff meat back in... 
buttocks already lifting, beginning the upward climb for another downward 
grind. 

"Honey!" he choked. "Christ Jesus, it's good this way. The best, sweetheart. 
The absolute fucking greatest screw in the whole fucking world." 

Diane made an incoherent sound. "I know, baby. You don't have to talk. Just 
go. Don't... ah! Ahhhhh! D-don't hold back. Fuck it onto me. Move! Make that 
sweet pussy work." 

Willingly Diane obeyed. Raising her hips, so that her cunt was half on, half 
off his long, veiny prick, she gyrated her ass so fast John thought the 
cream in his nuts would be whipped when the blast came. Again he gripped the 
fat plastic banana. Trying to match the girl's insane rhythm, he withdrew 
cock and plastic, until both almost popped from their sheaths. He waited 
until she was on the downward grind. Then he slammed the meat in her 
forebelly and the ersatz meat reaming her rounded behind, as hard and as 
deep as they'd go. 

"Ow! Ow! Owwwwwwwwww!" Diane became a virtual fuck machine. Her hips met 
his, thrust for thrust. Her white-blonde pussy, sloppy wet now, slurped each 
time his rod pistoned-dripping its scent, thick cuntjuice, down the length 
of his sex, over his balls, into the hairy crack of his ass and onto the 
sofa. 

"Fuck, honey," John gasped. "Keep working. Show... show me how you screwed 
for the boys. The ones in the cabin. The way you seem to like best. Like 
today. With the boys in the car. How you told me-when one fucked your ass 
and the other plowed like I'm plowing you now." 

"Hummmmmmm!" Diane closed her eyes, bucking, an unbroken yearling. "It... 
oh, it was so good. I oh! Ohhhhh! Oh, Uncle John, I... I c-c-can't stop 
com-miiiing!" 

John didn't care if she never stopped. He told her so... with his body, his 
cock. He rammed his hips off the cushions, expecting her to cry out with the 
force of the jab. But she merely fucked faster. Faster and faster. Leaning 
forward, she allowed the plastic banana to glide back, and screwed her hot 
little asshole onto the shit-smeared yellow thing once more. Then down, 
grinding her cunt, like a corkscrew, again and again onto the bowed length 
of his member. It was the wildest thing John had ever experienced. He'd 
never before known a girl like Diane; a girl who appeared so pure, so 
innocent yet had known-how many? Were there others besides the six boys he 
knew of? Another carload? Another cabinful? The mere thought enraged him 
anew. She was his-his beautiful, incestuous little whore-niece, who had done 
more in a month, learned more about sex, than most women did in a lifetime. 
And he'd beat her lovely ass raw he decided, if she ever, ever again, gave 
her pussy away to another. 

Anger made him drive the banana too hard, too deep in her rectum. Diane 
gulped as he lost the short end. "Oh, nooo," she cried. "G-g-get it 
ooooout!" 

John was too close to orgasm to stop. He continued to slam his joint, 
stiffer than ever before, up her wet cunthole. Forgetting the embedded 
plastic, putting the problem aside for the exquisite problem inching up from 
his sacs, he gripped the back of the girl's small blonde head and forced her 
lips against his. He drove his tongue into her mouth. Holding her ass in one 
hand, head in the other, he pumped. He pistoned his throbbing dick into the 
heat, the wetness, the softness, the nipping splendor deep between her 
spread thighs. 

He couldn't get enough of her. He didn't think he'd ever get enough of the 
pink and white body, the blonde and pink pussy, the little round ass, the 
big eyes, and the magic of the girl he had tried not to think of that way 
until the day he walked into the bathroom and realized, admitted to himself, 
that he'd always wanted to stick a stiff dick in the place, the hot hairy 
hole, where he now was planting the richest, the strongest, the most fiery 
cumload his balls had ever produced. 

He groaned and strained... sucking her mouth... pressing her hard-tipped 
breasts to his chest... kneading her succulent ass flesh... and fucked off 
spurt after spurt of thick, gooey jism. He heard her gasp. Through the fog 
of orgasm, the delicious warmth of release, he listened to her subdued, 
deep-throated love noises. And he felt her gyrating again... unmindful of 
the offensive banana... unconcerned, as unconcerned as he was, with anything 
except the sensations-the "cum fairies," Margaret had called them-racing one 
behind the other, in time to the slap-slap-slapping of bare belly against 
belly. 

It ended too soon. John would have been content to lie there pissing cum 
into her pussy forever. But with the last drop came the familiar limpness of 
joint, the need to rest. Reluctantly he released the girl's head, her lips. 
He lay sucking air, allowing his prick to soak, giving it time to grow stiff 
once more. 

For a moment, Diane lay quietly with her head on his chest. Then, when her 
breathing became normal, when she could speak, she raised up, cocked her 
head, and asked, "What about...?" She motioned over her shoulder. 

John laughed. She was adorable at times. In spite of everything, she had 
retained the little-girl magic most women lose along with their cherry. 
"What about what?" he taunted, happy, forgetting for the time being that he 
would have to go to work in the morning that Diane would be home alone, and 
perhaps, when he returned, he'd discover she had again given herself to 
another. Now it was him and her. No one else. Nothing to interfere with the 
pleasure of intimate banter. "What about fucking what?" he repeated, 
enjoying the way she scowled, the sweetness of her. 

"Oh! The banana," whispered Diane. 

John stared at her in mock surprise. "Banana?" 

"Darn you, anyway." Diane giggled. "How come you make me so mad, beat me and 
like that, then-well, how come you can be so nice 'n' dopey, too? The 
b-a-n-a-n-a! The yellow thing up my butt. You know? Huh?" She wiggled her 
saucy behind, as if to show him the way. 

John sobered. His half-hard dick slipped from her sweet vulva. "Okay," he 
told her. "On your knees," he commanded. 

Diane obeyed. Ass high in the air, thighs apart, she presented the problem 
for his minute inspection. Reaching back she spread her round, creamy 
cheeks. "Can... can you see it?" she asked in a small, tremulous voice. 

The tip of the plastic banana was like the black nose of a curious puppy 
peering from the blonde tuft of hair at her anus. "I see it," John said, 
trying to concentrate... trying not to see the provocative flesh on either 
side of the objective. And her cunt! The lovely pink slit he'd vacated a 
moment before! Now, it seemed to wink, to beckon. He leaned close, cupped 
his hand over her pussy, and placed his open mouth to the puckered brown 
hole the tip of the banana protruded from. 

The girl's hips jerked, the delectable halves of her ass quivered and 
tightened. "Owwww! Uncle John. Wha... wha...?" 

"Shhh!" John sucked. The taste was bittersweet, tangy, like nothing he'd 
ever tasted before. The smell was strong and to his liking. And her hot 
little gash was dripping more stink, more taste, into the palm of his hand. 
He sucked with all his might-joint growing hard, even harder than before, as 
the offensive banana began to slip from her asshole. He removed his mouth 
long enough to say, "Press! Work your muscles inside. Push out while I 
pull." 

Then he opened his lips over the tiny aperture once more... sucking and 
thinking how good it would be-imagining, seeing it inside his head -to stick 
his stiff dick up her rectum once the shit-smeared banana popped free. 

 Chapter Eight 

It wasn't until she stretched that Diane felt the weight at her ankle, 
opened her eyes and learned the dream was more than a dream. She stared in 
wonder at the thing on her leg-half asleep still, unable to believe Uncle 
John, jealous or not, would resort to chaining to insure she kept her 
promise about being faithful. 

But there was no denying the heavy metal links on her leg. Awed, she sat up 
and inspected the horrid restraint. It appeared to be a choker. Now she 
remembered the boxer that had once romped through the apartment, recalled 
having seen the ugly thing about the dog's neck. Uncle John had spread two 
links to accommodate a small lock, had secured the chain to her ankle while 
she slept-exhausted, fucked out from the night before-and had locked the 
other end, coupled to a longer, "running chain," to the foot of the bed. 

Frantic, Diane tugged at the restraint until blisters appeared on her hand. 
It refused to give. "Oh, nooo!" she wailed, pounding one small fist into the 
mattress... remembering the cabin... Tony and Sammy and Skeet. It was as if 
she were back there, secured to the bed, at the mercy of her kidnappers. But 
now Uncle John was the thug. And she was as much a prisoner here, she 
realized, as she'd been at the hideout in the cool, green, somehow still 
appealing Palos Verdes Hills. 

It was almost noon when the knock at the front door woke her a second time. 
Not caring who it was, unconcerned that she wore only panties and that if 
whoever was knocking answered her plea they'd walk in to feast their eyes on 
her near-naked body, Diane hollered, "Help! Oh, please, hellllllp!" 

From the bed she could see the hall door. She waited expectantly. Who could 
it be? she wondered as the brass doorknob began to turn. A stranger? Someone 
tall and handsome, who, upon seeing her, would immediately want to do what 
everyone seemed to want to do to her? She held her breath... waiting... 
watching as the door slowly opened. 

"Di?" Fred stood, an uncertain grin on his face, with his hand on the 
doorknob. 

Diane scowled. Fucking Fred! She should have known it would be him, should 
have realized that, after the day before, nothing could keep him away. "In 
here!" she yelled, knowing what would happen when he entered the bedroom and 
saw her, but again at his mercy because of Uncle John. She was forever at 
someone's mercy, it seemed. 

Well, it was going to stop! she thought as Fred closed the hall door and 
started across the living room. She'd decided, while waiting, while lying 
helpless all morning, she'd run away, if she had to-get a new start, away 
from it all, where no one knew her. 

She watched Fred's face as he stopped beside the bed and stared wide-eyed at 
the homemade shackle. "Man! What goes on?" he asked. 

"Can... can you unlock it?" 

Fred sat on the bed sidesaddle. Leaning close, he examined the small lock 
and the chain. He scratched his thick head of dark hair. Glancing from the 
choker to her flushed face, he said, "Sure! But who'd you murder?" 

Diane began to explain about Uncle John seeing her get out of the car, his 
jealousy. But almost before the words were out of her mouth, she saw Fred's 
gaze shift to her bare breasts... then glide down and over her belly, to the 
puffy V, the hint of dampness, where the semi-transparent panties hugged her 
pussy. The hand at her ankle began to inch up. She watched the surprise on 
his face-the momentary confusion at finding her chained like a slave to the 
bed-become hunger. "F-first get the chain off," she whispered as the hand on 
her leg touched the tender inside of one upper thigh. Fascinated, she 
watched the fingers creep toward her crotch. "There... there's a hammer 'n' 
saw 'n' stuff in... in the cabinet under the s-sink in... in the kitchen," 
she added, commanding her cunt to be still, to stop twitching, to ignore the 
hoselike thing beginning to show signs of life in the boy's pantsleg. 

"You mean you been chained up like this all day?" asked Fred suddenly. 

"Uh-huh." 

"Well, shit then! Another little while won't hurt!" 

"Oh, don't! Ow!" Diane leaned far forward -hand clamping tight on the one 
that had reached her crotch and now was kneading her pussy. "T-take the 
chain off first. I-I... I won't be able to... to move right this way." 

"Fuck the chain!" The fingers between her legs found the legband of the 
panties, slipped beneath. 

"Owwwww! Ummm!" Diane hugged his neck. Opening her legs, giving him room, 
she worked her cuntlips. The probing fingers slipped deep in her wet slit. 
She offered her mouth-opened and drew his tongue deep inside. She allowed 
him to press her back, onto the pillows-raise her free leg and began 
rotating her hips. It was madness! she thought. Sweet madness! But she was 
by now getting used to the overpowering insanity which took possession of 
her whenever a man, any man it seemed, came near. 

In less than a minute, the boy had the panties off her free leg and bunched 
at the ankle where the shackle held fast to the bedboard. He paused to 
undress. Diane watched every move... as she had watched Tony disrobe the 
first day at the cabin. Her cunt was alive with fresh juice, ready, aching 
to take the stiff dick she saw spring from his shorts. "Hurry," she told 
him, reaching with open arms, open thighs. 

Kneeling on the edge of the bed, Fred held his long cock in one hand and 
cupped her pussy with the other. Diane squirmed. Willingly she took hold of 
his sex. The fingers fucking her cunthole were making her wild. She jerked 
on his magnificent rod... working the loose outer jacket of skin... thinking 
how lovely it was... noting the bright bead of lubricant at the aperture in 
the round, purple-red glans. Impulsively she raised up, on one elbow, and 
licked the cloudy dewdrop away. 

"Yeah man!" breathed Fred. "That's what I like. Suck it, baby. " "Do me, 
too. Eat my pussy while I suck you off. Like... like you did yesterday." 
Fred grinned down at her. "You dig it, huh?" 

"Um! B-better than anything." 

"You ain't seen nothin' yet." 

Diane squealed as the boy fell upon her, head between her gaped thighs, 
mouth wet and open over her tight little love hole. She gasped and threw her 
pelvis up off the bed... panting while he straddled her face on his knees 
and pointed his jerking swipe at her lips. She cupped his fat balls. They 
were heavier this way, hanging down, dangling, she noted. They seemed to be 
bloated with cream... thick jism waiting to be sucked up and into her mouth. 

"C'mon," growled the boy, glancing back at her, momentarily abandoning her 
pouting cunt-lips. "Take the fucking thing in 'n' stop screwin' around." 

"Oh. Oh, don't stop s-s-sucking meeeeee! D-don't stop!" Hurriedly Diane 
wrapped both tiny hands around the shaft of his rod and steered the smooth, 
hot head, the pulsing glans, into her face. She moaned. Gulping, working 
spit up from her throat, she drew the fat fiery tip deep. 

"Yeeeeeeah!" Fred drove his hips down... pushing deeper, deeper. "Suck it, 
babe. Take it all. Every ummmmm! Ah! Every fuckin' inch!" 

Gurgling, working the saliva over the bulbous knob, batting her tongue 
against the vein beating an excited tattoo along the bowed underside, Diane 
sucked. She released the shaft. Moving her hands over his hips, to the 
cheeks of his flat, muscular bottom, she gripped and pulled down... taking 
the delicious meat, all of it, to the coarse hair smelling of sweat, into 
her mouth. Now she could see his asshole. It was the cutest thing; a winking 
brown eye in a moon-shaped, grinning face. Suddenly she knew why Uncle John 
liked that tiny slit best. Impulsively her fingers inched down the crack. 

"Arrrrrump!" Fred's hips jerked convulsively as her slender middle finger 
slipped in his chute the cock in her face dug deeper. 

"Ummm! Ea' me. Suc' my pusseeee!" Diane lifted her ass high off the bed, 
seeking his mouth, his tongue. Noisily she sucked his stiff prick and waited 
for the first flick of sandpapery fire. 

With two fingers on each hand, the boy spread the swollen halves of her 
vulva. Diane felt his hot breath. Her heart seemed to stop. Her belly grew 
taut. Forcing her finger deep in his rectum, she drew on the knob of his 
cock and fucked her blonde wedge up, up... straining to meet the wet dart. 

Fred seemed to enjoy making her squirm. He waited until she was half out of 
her mind with longing, with lust. Then, shafting his dick slowly in and out 
of her face, his own face dipped down into the gap between her quivering 
thighs. His tongue lashed out-as the belt Uncle John welded had lashed out 
the night before-taunting her clit, working its shivery wonder on the 
sensitive bud. His fingers slipped down into the pinched crack of her ass, 
searching for the rear entry. Slurping, matching the noises she made, he 
drew his tongue quickly back and forth across both hot hairy slits. 

Moaning, unable to think, to breathe, Diane worked her sphincters, making 
her asshole suck as her mouth was sucking, and drew a finger up her tight 
rear chute. She thrashed as the new dart bored in. She twisted, humped. 
Clamping her teeth at the base of his rod, she drank huge draughts of the 
stink that hung like a mist at his privates. She fucked her cunt up at 
him... sucking... sucking as if she were a baby once more, and his cock, the 
hard thing jerking at the gate to her gullet, contained a specially mixed 
formula. 

"Ah! Oh, man! Ohhhhhhh!" Fred's mouth clamped tight at her cunthole. He blew 
into her belly. He wiggled, telling her with his hips, his movement, it was 
time; that she should release the hold her teeth had and allow him to 
piston. 

"Do it!" gasped Diane. She cupped the fat hairy sacs at her chin. 
Frantically she fucked her finger in and out of his asshole, and worked her 
own little chute on the finger drilling there. She watched the boy's slick 
shaft slip out of her face, and grind back. Again she watched it withdraw... 
pulling back until only the glans was embedded, and lunging. He was coming, 
she knew. She could feel it inching up from the wrinkled sacs in the palm of 
her hand. Growing stronger. Forming a knot at the roots of the meat in her 
face. 

Fred gurgled something unintelligible into her nipping gash. Suddenly he 
threw his legs back. His weight came down on her. Alternately blowing into 
and sucking air from her vulva, he ground his pelvis, the coarse, brushing 
cockhair, the thick throbbing roots of his sex, into her mouth. 

"Hummmmmmm!" Diane gulped the first gob of goo. Now she clamped her lips 
tight again... holding him trapped... working her throat muscles... coaxing 
the stuff from his rod. She was being smothered, choked on the outside by 
the boy's weight, and by cum within. But she didn't care about that. She 
didn't care about anything except the thick jism pouring off in her face, 
gliding down, coating her gullet with rapid spurts of fire. 

Forgetting the restraint at her ankle, she tried to wrap her thighs about 
the boy's head. The chain caught-shot pain through her leg. But she didn't 
care about that, either. She wiggled her ass further down on the bed. Until 
there was slack enough in the tether. Until Uncle John's jealousy no longer 
restricted her from snaking her anxious thighs over the shock of dark hair, 
the face, the mouth, the tongue burrowing in the wet grotto at her crotch. 

"Um! Ummm! UMMMMMMMMM!" Her cunthole was shooting off sparks, it seemed... 
breathing, snapping at the sandpapery thing washing her clit, pushing her 
toward orgasm. She threw her hips wide, twisting, rolling her lower body 
from side to side, as if she were competing for the Hula-hoop championship 
of Southern California. "Don't stop!" she cried as the dick in her face 
stopped pissing good cream. 

Fred pumped faster, jerking his meat in and out in spite of her teeth, 
apparently trying to raise another cumload, to accommodate her. But his cock 
seemed to be momentarily fucked out. It began to grow limp, to list, hang 
from her mouth like a fat, overcooked spaghetti. 

"Oh!" Suddenly Diane recalled something she'd recently read about prostate 
glands. She blinked at his asshole. It was up there somewhere-where her 
finger was digging. She wiggled her fingertip. 

"Arrr! ARRRRRRRRRRH!" The glans of Fred's cock pulled back into the loose 
outer jacket, held for a moment, and-like the head of a jackhammer-pelleted 
fresh semen into her mouth. 

Again Diane sucked with all her might. Working her middle finger high in his 
rectum, gyrating her ass, her pussy, she greedily drank the hot cum blasting 
in time to the electric sensations racing up her spine. But her pussy wanted 
more. More than a tongue. There was no satisfying the little white-blonde 
wedge, she admitted. No way to still the need in her belly for longer than 
it took to climb from one long, stiff swipe, to the next. She didn't care. 
Not anymore. She didn't care because there was nothing so good, so exciting, 
as fucking. 

As if having read her thoughts, as if having deciphered the code of 
gyrations in her twisting hips, Fred slipped his hard cock from her mouth. 
It came out with a soft, popping sound. Cum oozed down her chin. "Now let's 
screw," the boy told her, rearranging his body, repositioning his glistening 
rod between her full thighs. "Lift your knees," he directed, steering the 
fat purple-red glans to her pink slit. "Fuck! Open that pretty cunt 'n' do 
your thing!" 

She didn't have to be told, not anymore. She knew what he wanted, knew 
exactly how to best please a man and herself. Sobbing, making the tiny 
noises deep in her throat-the sound which was becoming her love language, it 
seemed- she raised her legs, dropped her knees wide, and took the slippery 
length of his prick up her pussy. She felt his weight come down on her 
belly, sighed. Her arms encircled his shoulders. She offered her cum-sticky 
lips; began the slow, taunting, rhythmic fuck motion that would bring them 
to orgasm once more. 

"Like this?" she whispered, teasing, working her cunt muscles, her thighs. 

"Man!" 

"Then fuck me!" she told him. "Don't talk! Kiss me 'n' screw!" 

Later, after the boy had filled her cunthole with the goo still lingering in 
her mouth, they rested. Fred lay on his back, eyes closed, arms wide, 
sucking huge draughts of breath into his lungs. She watched his chest heave. 
Her gaze traveled the length of his muscular body, paused at the wiry 
cockhair surrounding his swipe. It was an absurd-looking thing, she decided. 
Limp, it appeared to be nothing more devastating than an eleventh, misplaced 
finger. Yet even now she could imagine it hard, standing tall, pulsing, and 
ready to shoot another thick gush of cream. Her gaze settled on the homemade 
shackle she'd all but forgotten. She touched Fred's thigh. She watched his 
eyes open. Rattling the chain, she asked, "What about...?" 

Fred grinned. "Nothing to it." 

She watched him rise from the bed and pad barefoot toward the kitchen. She 
sat up, jiggled the chain and thought about Uncle John. She loved him, true. 
But she couldn't go on being chained to one bed and one man. In the month 
since the cabin, and especially in the past few days, she'd learned that 
much; that her pussy, since the first penetration, craved more cock than one 
man could supply. The insatiable drives were confusing, all tangled up in 
knots inside her head. But she knew if she stayed Uncle John would become 
more and more jealous, more and more demanding, and she'd never unravel the 
mess. There was nothing to do but run... get away somewhere by herself and 
think things out. 

Fred was back in a moment with a handful of unidentifiable gadgets from 
Uncle John's tool chest. Leaning forward, elbows propped on her knees and 
chin resting in the cradle of her hands, she watched him sit, lift her leg, 
and drop her pink foot into his lap. His gaze shot up to the hairy V between 
her thighs. "I don't blame your fucking uncle," he told her. "Man! If I had 
a niece like you!" 

Diane sniffled. She supposed Fred was right. She supposed anyone, any man, 
would be anxious to get and keep his hands on her well-rounded young body. 
She was learning that about herself, too, that her cute little round ass, 
her titties, her thighs, and legs and what nestled between, were a passport 
to pleasure. And her rare white-blonde wedge seemed to be a delight to every 
beholder. 

"There!" Fred lifted the chain from her slim ankle. He cupped her wet pussy. 
His finger slipped in. "All that work made me hungry," he said. "Got 
something to eat? A hot blonde fur-burger, maybe?" 

Diane fell with him onto the pillows. It was late. Uncle John would be 
getting home in less than an hour, she knew. But there was time. Time for 
another quick sixty-nine: another stiff spitting swipe before she decided 
where to run to. 

 Chapter Nine 

The cabin was the logical choice. Diane remembered the big cupboard stocked 
with canned food left behind the day Tony and the others were taken into 
custody. She remembered also the quiet isolation-the woods, the trees, the 
highway like a concrete snake curled sleeping at the foot of the steep rise 
the cabin looked down from. Skeet had said the hideout belonged to his 
folks, but he and Greta were the only ones who used the place nowadays. Now, 
with the thugs in jail, she supposed she'd have the four rooms to 
herself-could stay as long as she liked, thinking, living off the foodstuffs 
and the little money she'd managed to save in the short time she'd worked at 
Uncle John's store. With these thoughts in mind, Diane set out to hitchhike 
to Palos Verdes. 

In tight yellow bellbottoms and a matching halter, and a small overnight bag 
containing two changes of clothes and cosmetics, she had no trouble getting 
a ride. The trouble came when the driver-a rotund, balding businessman, 
whose cock had begun to rise immediately when she stepped into the 
car-suggested she move closer and "be nice to him." Diane refused. The man 
bristled and tried to maul her. Next thing she knew she was walking the last 
lonely miles. 

It was dark and she was exhausted when at last she reached the road leading 
up through thick brush to the cabin. There was a chill in the air. She 
shivered. Envisioning the thick warm mattress where Tony had raped her the 
first time, she summoned the strength to climb the steep road. Would there 
be lights, she wondered. Electricity? Or had the police, or perhaps the 
utilities companies, turned off the lights and water and whatever else they 
took back when the bills weren't paid? The thought frightened her. She 
didn't think she'd be able to persuade herself to stay long in a dark lonely 
cabin. 

To Diane's astonishment, as if someone had anticipated her fears, she saw 
lights in the cabin. She stopped at the top of the road. Had Skeet lied, she 
wondered. Did the place belong to someone else, after all? "Oh, darn!" Now a 
new fear engulfed her. She was too tired to walk back to the highway and 
begin hitchhiking again. And even if she somehow mustered the courage, the 
strength, there was no place to go except back to Uncle John. "Oh, darn! 
Darn!" she blurted, eyeing the cabin with envy, thinking how pleasant, how 
warm, it must be inside, and knowing she'd never summon the moxie to 
approach the door and present herself to strangers. 

Stifling a sob, a mixture of anger and regret, she parked her butt on a huge 
cold rock beside the road. Chewing her lower lip, wondering who the man was 
at the window, she stared longingly at the place she'd never in her wildest 
dream expected to return to. 

Inside the cabin, Tony squinted through the window at the blurred yellow 
figure crouching at the far end of the drive. He frowned. "Hey, Skeet." 

Lazily Skeet joined him at the window. Both men stared at the motionless 
yellow blob until Sammy, playing strip poker with Greta, literally losing 
his shirt, pushed his chair back and asked, "What the fuck's goin' on? 
Fuzz?" 

Tony scowled darkly back at him. "We're clean, stupid. They got no kick; us 
being out on bail." 

"Too small for fuzz," observed Skeet. "Looks like a chick. Hey!" He 
brightened. "Maybe it's the wood fairy!" 

"Maybe it's your Aunt Tessie," grumbled Sammy. 

"My Aunt Tessie's a good cunt," countered Skeet. "She's home humpin' right 
now." 

They parried and watched the motionless figure for several minutes before 
Tony decided to sneak out the back door, flank the drive, and come up behind 
whoever was spying on them. Without mentioning his scheme, he left the 
others at the window. He paused in the kitchen for a flashlight before 
stepping out into the cool night air, and deep, woodland shadows. 

Diane was doing her best to hold it in. But she had to pee so bad she could 
no longer think of anything else. Leaving her overnight bag at the side of 
the road, she scurried into the thick brush, quickly undid her bells, pushed 
pants and panties down to her knees, and squatted. She sighed relief as the 
stream gushed from her pussy. But she had barely begun when the bright beam 
of light fell upon her, made her gasp and jump up-pissing all over her 
clothes. Someone wolf-whistled. The circle of light advanced from out of the 
brush. 

"Who... who is it?" squeaked Diane, face burning with shame, trying 
unsuccessfully to shimmy the sopping wet garments up over her nakedness. 
There was no answer. The light continued to advance until she could see the 
broad-shouldered figure of a man behind it. Frightened, expecting the worst, 
she stepped back to find to her horror she could move only in mincing steps 
with the icky clothes bunched at the top of her thighs. Her foot encountered 
a rock. She was bending for the weapon when a deep, scratchy, familiar voice 
brought her up short. 

"I'll be goddamned," laughed the voice. "My little blonde pussy's back. And 
already she's got 'er pants down 'n' ready to screw." 

Diane couldn't believe her ears. "T-T-Tony?" Suddenly the flashlight went 
out. She almost screamed. Instead, she lifted one hand to her mouth, held 
her breath, and waited for... for... for the rough hand that finally cupped 
at her crotch, unmindful of the pussy hair and clothes, and the other hand 
that pressed her buttocks forward. 

"Jesus!" groaned Tony, kneading her ass flesh, her puffy pubic mound. "I 
almost forgot how soft you are. But now I remember why I snatched you in the 
first place." His middle finger slipped smoothly up her cunthole. 

Oh God! thought Diane. What had she done? Could it be possible? Had she 
actually delivered herself-like a lamb to the slaughter- into the hands of 
the brute who'd started it all-the cause of the confusing knots inside her 
head? "Oh, no. Not again," she whispered, not knowing why, not at all 
disturbed by the tingles the finger stabbing her pussy was causing. 

"I knew you liked it," said Tony. "Even the first time yer fuckin' cunt was 
as tight as a closed clam, but you hardly let out a peep once I was in. But 
Christ! Who'd ever guess you'd be back?" Pulling her close, he began to rub 
the half-hard bulge in his pantsleg against one naked thigh. 

Diane tried not to think about the perversions Tony had subjected her to. 
But the thing rubbing her leg was bringing back visions of four days of 
screwing, and belts, and tongues. A squirt of hot pee burst from her 
cuntlips. "Ow-ow-owwwwwww," she breathed, horrified that someone, 
particularly Tony, should witness that most private function. 

Tony seemed not to notice or care that she had pissed on his hand. Slipping 
his finger from her sheath, he cupped the underside of both plump cheeks of 
her ass. "Take out my cock," he told her. "We'll put something up there for 
a plug. So you won't have to pee." 

Diane hesitated. But she knew there was no sense in resistance; no mercy in 
Tony. He'd merely take her, she knew-use her body as he and the others had 
done for four terrible, seemingly endless days. 

The others! It suddenly dawned in her mind that if Tony had returned to the 
cabin, Sammy and Skeet and Greta must be there, too. 

"Take it out!" growled Tony, driving the bulge in his pantsleg into the 
space atop and between her naked young thighs. 

Obediently Diane's hand flew to his fly. Quickly, but with trembling 
fingers, she worked the zipper. She was lost, she realized; a slave since 
the day the three thugs walked into Uncle John's store. But as her hand 
fumbled inside the pants, found and closed around his stiffening dick, 
caressed the fat glans and moved slowly up and down the long shaft, she felt 
pleasure, not revulsion. Pleasure in the knowledge that good cum was waiting 
in the wrinkled sacs her fingers grazed with each stroke of her hand. 
Pleasure in anticipation. Sheer joy in the knowledge that soon they'd be 
fucking. 

Pushing the piss-soaked slacks and panties down her legs, Tony told her to 
step out of the garments. Again she obeyed. He walked her backward, guiding 
the soft halves of her ass to rough bark of a tree. "Now put it in for me," 
he told her. "Up yer cunt! Let's fuck before the others find out you're 
here." 

Unable to resist, not wanting to anymore, Diane whimpered and steered the 
plumb-shaped knob of his swipe to her cuntlips. She set it in place. 
Spreading her thighs, leaning back, using the tree for support, she began to 
work her pussy taking him in... drawing the tip of his long veiny prick up 
her hot little hole. "Oh G-God!" she gasped, coming already, head spinning. 

Tony wasn't gentle. But he had never been gentle, Diane recalled as he 
grunted and squeezed her plump ass and fucked himself into her. His cock 
seemed less big now, less awesome. She supposed that was because Uncle 
John's long rigid rod was fatter and more handsome by inches. Yet the one 
digging into her sex was no piker. It grated across her hard clit with as 
much delicious sensation as any she'd had. It burrowed up, up... all the way 
up her pulsing vagina. It jerked and throbbed. It breathed inside her. 
"Yes!" she heard herself saying. "Oh, yes! Yessssssssss!" 

Moving his hands under her buttocks, taking a firmer grip, Tony's strong 
arms lifted the weight off her legs. "Ummra!" he groaned. "Put um! Ahhhhhh! 
Put yer legs up. Around my waist. It's-mother, you're so fucking tight! It's 
good fucking like that-standing with you like a sweet Kewpie doll on a 
stick." 

"It... it won't work. I'll fall." 

"Get 'em up!" Tony's fingernails dug cruelly into the tender halves of her 
ass. 

"Owwwwwwwwww!" Tentatively, Diane raised one trembling leg. Then, using the 
tree for support, in answer to the rough hands splayed on her bottom, she 
threw the other leg up and locked her ankles. The cock up her belly seemed 
to grow longer and plant its hot jerking tip deeper than any had ever before 
invaded. 

"Now fuck," sighed Tony, the hardness gone from his face. He made the 
deep-throated pleasure sounds she remembered. His fingers slipped into the 
open crack of her ass. One found the rear entry. "M-make that sweet blonde 
pussy bite," he hissed, twisting a smaller dart up her rectum. "I ain't had 
none this good in so fucking long it .. it... oh, girlie! Sweet little girl 
girlie! Fuck!" 

"I love you," breathed Diane, knowing he was beyond hearing, beyond caring 
what she said, but wanting nonetheless to express the emotions his hands, 
his big pulsing dick, were stirring. Her body felt light, charged with 
electricity, more alive than ever before. Her tight cunthole snapped. Her 
puckered asshole sucked his finger. For a moment she wished the halter was 
off so she could feel the texture, the scratch of his shirt against her 
taut, aching nipples. She wished he was nude. She wished Sammy would find 
them, as he had done the first day more than a month before, and come up 
behind to put a stiff prick in where the finger taunted her rectum. It was 
as if the month between her rescue and now had never happened. She was his 
again. His to defile, to debase, to degrade, and shame and violate in any 
way he chose. 

"Faster!" demanded Tony. "Fuck faster! Screw that sweet cunt aroun' like 
there's no tomorrow!" Planting his feet wide apart, giving himself more 
room, more leverage, he began to hump the length of his rod in and out of 
her pussy... slamming her soft round buttocks against the rough bark of the 
tree... grunting with each lunge... hurting... bruising. 

"Humhhhhmm!" Diane felt only the bliss, the fire, the friction of the dick 
stoking her furnace. She wiggled-fucking with all her might, mind and body 
untied to bring him to orgasm. "I'll never forgot you," she sobbed. "The... 
the first time. The ohah! The way you took me. The rape. Even with... even 
when someone else fucked me. No matter who it was I thought about you. It... 
oh, Tony! Oh G-God!" She felt the knob of his mighty cock swell and jerk in 
the slippery depths of her sheath-fucked her hips, her cunthole, even 
faster. "You... you were on my mind all the time. Your dick! The way it 
shoots off. The... the way you hurt me. The t-things you and the others made 
me do. Fucking! Fucking and sucking and oww! OWWW! Oh, do it, Tony. Do it! 
Doit!" Wrapping her arms tight at his neck, tightening her legs at his 
waist, she rested her head in the crook at his shoulder and gyrated 
furiously. 

Pulling far back, Tony slammed into her. Sweat broke on his brow as his long 
veiny dick dipped again and again in her hot juicy hole. The pants were a 
hindrance. But even through the material Diane could feel his big hairy 
balls growing tense with the force of the cum-load her tight cunt was 
coaxing. The hands on her ass pulled her close with each forward stab, 
forcing her onto him. The brass teeth of the zipper at his fly bit into her 
vulva, her thighs. But she felt only the exquisite driving goodness, only 
the thrust of his swipe. 

"Ba-beeeeeee!" Tony sought her moist, parted lips. Their mouths fused. His 
tongue began to piston in time to his cock and the finger fucking her 
asshole. Then suddenly the dick in her belly stopped pistoning. It held at 
the roots. The hands on her bottom became cruel steel claws. She gasped. 
Batting her inner cunt muscles on the vibrating shaft, she sucked his tongue 
and held her breath in anticipation of the first thick gush of cream. 

It seemed to take forever. Her lungs, she was certain, were going to burst 
through her chest and leave her firm little pink-tipped breasts shredded 
like blowouts in an old rubber inner tube. She worked her ass frantically; 
bumping, grinding, milking the fat glans of his magnificent cock... the meat 
she had dreamt about since her rescue... the wonderful big veiny joystick 
that had busted her cherry. 

The first nugget of jism geysered into her. Tony gasped spit tasting of 
tobacco and what she supposed was the stale flavor of alcohol, into her 
mouth. Moaning, pinching his waist in the vise of her thighs, and kneading 
his spitting dick in the tighter, hotter, silkier vise of her vagina, Diane 
gulped the saliva-as if it were semen. She squealed and made her cunt suck 
his thick cream. She felt it glide down the walls of her sheath... out, 
searing the puffy pink lips of her pussy, and dripping wet and sticky down 
the crack of her ass. She sucked his foul-tasting mouth. She worked her 
stomach... making it ripple... making the ripples spread through her sex 
until the tiny hard-on within, her sensitive clit, began to fire the love 
lights, the multicolored glare, the thrill, the fireworks of orgasm bursting 
like Chinese New Year's inside her head. 

Panting, Tony rested. Until the last gooey spurt of love-juice had dripped 
down her crotch. Until the world came back into focus for Diane. Finally, 
the hardness, the cruelty returning to his face, he said, "That was good, 
baby. You learned a few things since last time. Now put your legs down." 

Diane recognized the tone Tony had used previously when about to subject her 
to his most perverse desires; the tone Sammy and Skeet and Greta had used 
when wielding the belt. Quickly she obeyed... knowing she had no choice... 
knowing he'd make her comply, hurt her, if she displayed the slightest 
resistance. Her thighs were weak. She held tight to his neck to keep from 
falling. What would he do to her now, she wondered, heart thumping, 
shivering in anticipation. 

Abruptly Tony slipped his dick-still stiff, covered with white smelly 
gook-from her cunt-hole. "Now on yer knees!" he ordered. "Let's see if yer 
sweet little mouth learned anything about cock-sucking since last time!" 

Sammy and Skeet were preparing to go outside in search of Tony when the back 
door opened and the bright yellow blur from End of the drive stepped inside 
the cabin. Tony followed close behind. He grinned. "Look what I found," he 
said and nudged Diane forward. Sammy and Skeet stared. Diane felt their 
lustful gazes boring into the dampness at the crotch of her bellbottoms. A 
shiver of excitement raced through her body. She blushed. That she and Tony 
had been making love was obvious, she knew. And she could almost read the 
thoughts behind the eyes ogling her-get those slacks off her ass! Let's see 
if that little blonde pussy has changed any! Our turn! Our fucking turn! 

Greta, who had been sitting in bra and shorts at the folding card table, 
came forward with the half-jealous, half-friendly grin Diane remembered on 
her dark, pixy face. The two exchanged curious glances-the 
thirteen-year-old, Diane supposed, wondering what had brought her back to 
the place where she'd been subjected to abuses that would make a normal girl 
cringe. But I'm not a normal girl anymore! thought Diane. I haven't been 
normal since the day Tony put his big dick up my hole! 

Suddenly Greta smiled. Stepping close, she took the overnight bag from 
Diane's hand, set it down in a corner, and placed her own little fingers in 
the warmth the handle had vacated. "We needed another girl," she said, 
indicating the deck of cards scattered about the small heap of clothes on 
the table. "And-" she cocked her head and looked impishly up from a two-inch 
discrepancy in height-"well, I'm glad it's you instead of someone else." 

The four spent the next fifteen minutes explaining to Diane about the bail 
that had been arranged through Skeet's influential parents. True, they might 
go to jail eventually, Tony said. And Greta had missed being placed in a 
foster home by the "skin of her teeth!" But they would remain free on bail 
'til the trial, months away. And, Tony further explained, because they were 
first offenders, and because of the big money Skeet's father was liberally 
salting on ruffled feathers in all the right places, they might beat the rap 
altogether. 

After a few minutes of prying, Diane explained her reason for running away; 
told how she had opened her eyes that morning to find Uncle John's homemade 
shackle and dog chain securing her to the bedboard. 

Leering, echoing Fred, Skeet murmured, "Can't blame the ole geezer for 
that!" 

Greta cast him a dark sidelong glance. She opened her mouth, as if to 
protest, as if to tell her brother her little midnight black pussy was the 
only hot hairy hole he'd get his dick into this night. Sammy came to the 
rescue. "So now we can finish our game. Five-handed draw. Two cunts. Cool!" 

Diane had never before played strip poker. But it appeared simple enough. 
Until the first hand was dealt, she lost with three jacks, and one of her 
shoes joined the heap of clothes on the table. But she didn't really care 
about losing. The pissy slacks were uncomfortable-stank and were stuck deep 
in the crack of her ass. And she knew what was going to happen, knew the 
goal of the game once the garments were shed. 

It took less than five minutes to get her down to wet panties and halter. 
Then Greta lost three hands in a row, shed her bra, shorts and panties. And 
Sammy-dealing from the bottom of the deck, Diane could see-his boxer shorts 
the only garment remaining, explained that, once stripped, the player with 
the lowest hand was at the mercy of the one with the highest spread. 

The room grew silent. Diane felt lightheaded. Beside her, Skeet, the head of 
his stiff swipe held in check by the elastic waistband of the shorts that 
were his last garment also, reached beneath the table and touched her knee. 
She glanced sharply at Greta. But the younger girl now was absorbed in the 
cards she held and didn't seem to notice her brother's strong, curious 
fingers... inching higher and higher... closer and closer to the curly 
white-blonde wedge he hadn't fucked a dick into since the day of her rescue. 

"Two pair!" announced Greta confidently. 

Sammy laughed. One by one he spread his cards on the table. They were all 
spades, ten to ace. He took out his prick, stroked it until it stood tall. 
"Sit on my lap," he said as the other hands, all higher than the dark-haired 
girl's two pair, fell. 

Greta scowled. "Fucking creep cheat bastard!" 

"Rules're rules!" growled Tony. 

Greta pouted. Reluctantly she stood, giving them a glimpse of an adorable, 
tiny, pink-slitted black wedge. Her dimpled behind settled in Sammy's lap at 
the same time the hand on Diane's inner thigh reached the legband of the 
panties. 

Clamping her thighs tight on the dart tickling her clit, Diane watched Tony 
lean toward Sammy and screw his middle finger up Greta's cunthole. The 
younger girl grimaced and squirmed. Sammy hugged her close. His calloused 
hands covered her big-nippled, little-girl breasts. "Iiiiiiiii!" the girl 
breathed, squirming as Sammy lifted, centered the tip of his rod, and let 
her gaped open cheeks slowly down on the fiery stake. 

Diane could almost feel the dick sliding up her tight asshole. The 
expression on Greta's flushed face, the noises she made as the poker 
penetrated, made the insides of her own rectum contract... just as if Sammy 
were reaming her. The miniature spike in her forebelly became more 
insistent. She gasped and leaned forward, pressing the hand, Skeet's 
fingers, into her sex. She watched Sammy fuck the younger girl's cute little 
behind, saw Tony bend, face close to the ebony curlicues, and wished Skeet 
would take his finger away, loose the fat glans of the cock protruding from 
the top of his shorts, and fuck it as fast as he could up her dripping 
pussy. 

Apparently Skeet read her thoughts. For while Tony and Sammy went to work in 
earnest on the dark-haired girl, making her thrash, cry out in ecstasy, he 
leaned close, lips to her ear, and whispered, "C'mon babydoll. Get those 
panties off 'n' make like Sis. On my lap!" 

Diane hesitated only long enough to ascertain that Greta was too involved, 
too content with the swipe in her rectum and the tongue washing her vulva, 
to care what her brother was doing. The younger girl had thrown her legs 
wide, she noted. Now, when she raised up in preparation of grinding herself 
down the lengthy meat in Sam's lap, Diane could see the shit-smeared 
cylinder of stiffness digging between the tense tender halves of the girl's 
adorable ass. Her breath caught. Eyes glazed, gaze riveted to the scene, she 
rose from the chair, pushed the panties off her hips, down her thighs, and 
stepped out of the pissy undergarment. As if mesmerized, as if already 
impaled by the big dick causing such obvious pleasure in the dark-haired 
girl, she waited while Skeet stripped off the shorts. Then she allowed 
herself to be steered onto his lap, allowed herself to be turned to face 
him, felt her thighs' being spread and willingly straddled his legs. Her 
hand shot out and captured his cock and guided the bloated red tip to the 
pulsating pink pocket below her hot and curly, anxious, white-blonde wedge. 

"Owwwwwwwww!" She felt the glans penetrating... going deeper, deeper. She 
held the thick shaft and fucked herself down, pleading, telling him with her 
hips, her buttocks, her tight nipping pussy, to drive the whole of his 
lovely member up her belly. 

"Easy, baby. Christ! You sure learned how to please a guy since last time I 
shoved my meat in you. But... ah! Ah fuck-go easy! Slow! You... ah! You'll 
make me pop off before I get the fucking thing halfway in." 

Diane couldn't speak. The fire from the tip of his rod had reached her 
throat. And she couldn't go slow, either. She couldn't do anything except 
what she now was doing... grinding her hips, her tight cunthole, onto his 
big hard cock. Her fingers yanked at the roots of the monster, hand trying 
to push the meat deeper while her pussy pulled, sucked. It was so good! she 
thought elated. So breathtaking to watch and listen to fucking, to hear the 
slurp of a tongue, while a swipe-any swipe so long as it was long and rigid 
and capable of spitting-was being humped up her hot little gash. 

Tony stood. His mouth, the whiskers on his chin, glistened with cuntjuice. 
Whipping his dick from the fly of his pants, he held it and stepped close to 
the girl in Sam's lap. "Your turn!" he told her. "Suck!" 

Diane watched the younger girl form a wide 0 with her lips, watched Tony 
step closer and fill the moist space with the knob of his tool. She heard 
Greta gurgle. Rising up, almost standing, she sobbed and drove herself down 
the length of the prick in her belly... watching, all the time eyeing the 
other big prick, the one that had fucked her and planted cum in her face 
less than an hour before, disappear into the dark, young pixy face. "Oh God. 
Oh Mother of Jesus, I... I..." 

"What? Lemme hear it," said Skeet. 

"I wanna suck! I... I..." Whining, unable to finish what she'd begun to say, 
not sure what it was, she mashed her open lips to Skeet's mouth. She waited 
for his tongue. When it shot forward, she caught it between her teeth, held 
and sucked-as she had sucked Tony's tongue earlier, as if it were the tip of 
a swipe. Her own brazenness astonished her. She knew, when it was over, once 
the cum gave her momentary release, she'd feel the tongue of shame lick her 
cheeks with fire. But now she cared only about the tongue in her mouth, and 
the rigid rod, the dick, swabbing her vulva. She couldn't stop. Couldn't 
stop lifting her ass and forcing her cunthole down. Couldn't help savoring 
the delicious friction caused by the beautiful man-meat digging in the 
slippery folds of her sheath. Couldn't stop fucking, fucking, fucking as 
Tony had directed, like there was no tomorrow! 

"Ah! Ahhhhhhhhhh!" Wrapping his arms tight about her waist, hugging the 
breath from her lungs, Skeet groaned into the moist warmth of her mouth and 
pumped his stiffness up off the chair. Across from them, the chair rocking 
from the girl's frantic gyrations, Sam and Greta and Tony were reaching 
orgasm simultaneously. The noises they made-particularly the dark-haired 
girl's loud, greedy sucking-shoveled fresh coal onto the fire burning in 
Diane. A soothing, gauzy warmth absorbed her. She tore her lips from Skeet's 
and watched the room, Tony and Sammy and Greta, spin. The window behind 
them, the door, the card table and heap of clothing seemed to sway with 
their tense limbs. Her body was a metabolism apart from it all. It rose and 
fell, twisted and strained, bucked and wiggled and rippled. "Kiss my tits!" 
she told Skeet, lifting the halter to bare her bright pink nipples. "Suck 
'em! Bite! Hurt meee!" 

Setting a steady fuck rhythm, a motion designed to bring them over the 
brink, Skeet mouthed one hard little rosebud. His teeth clamped tight. 
"Umram! Tastes good. A cherry on top of whipped cream. Everything-" he 
paused to run loving hands along the inside of her alabaster thighs-"about 
you is whipped cream. Good enough to eat. Ummmmmm!" Nipping the tip of her 
tit, he shook his head like a dog drying itself. 

"Oh, yes! Yes! Suck it! B-b-bite!" Diane heard Greta's gurgle of 
satisfaction as Tony humped jism into her sweating, little-girl face. She 
heard Sammy gritting his teeth, making the chair rock back and forth on its 
legs, interspersing the sounds with grunts as he planted cum in Skeet's 
sister. And she heard Skeet lapping her nipples now, his slick rod slurping 
in and out of the juicy gash between her wide-spread thighs. She trapped his 
meat, held the knob embedded, and strained for the nut she knew was climbing 
the pole toward the tiny aperture breathing within her vagina. 

"Com-ah! AHHH! I... I'm come-come-com-ing!" Skeet's teeth sank deep in her 
tender nipple. 

"Ow! Ow-ow!-ow-owwwwww!" blubbered Diane from the pain and the jet blasting 
off up her pussy. The hot fluid spewed from the glans of his cock, seeped 
down the shaft using her cunthole, touched her clit and sent tremors through 
her white, quivering thighs. 

Coming! she thought. The whole world-the cabin walls, the overhead light, 
the table, the chairs. There were lovely dicks everywhere. Wonderful 
joysticks spitting good cream. Semen. Buckets and buckets of thick goo. All 
of it, every last delicious drop, it seemed, was gushing into her twat, 
filling her to overflowing with the stuff she desired. 

It was late. They'd eaten and slept, and now, she and Greta alone in the bed 
where Tony had given her the first wondrous taste of screwing, Diane heard 
the men-no! Mere boys! They weren't much older than her, she'd learned- 
moving about in the next room, talking in whispers. She glanced about the 
dark bedroom. They'd mended the window, she noted. A clear pane, the only 
one not flecked with rainspots, looked out on a skyful of stars. A smiling 
moon cast a bright yellow mist atop the trees-the branches black fingers 
fading into the night. 

She glanced from the window to the small girl asleep on her side, curled 
like an infant beside her. She studied the calm pixy face. Now, in sleep, it 
was difficult to believe this child was the same wildcat she'd watched 
making love a few hours before. Her immature body seemed incapable of 
withstanding the brutal thrust of a man. 

Diane stretched and sighed. Her body was sore, bruised from Uncle John, Fred 
that afternoon, and Skeet's pounding. Lately it seemed she did nothing but 
screw. She'd run away to think, to sort things out, she reminded herself. 
Yet there she was-nude, the cum hard in the hair of her pussy, and the boys, 
the three pricks that would come sniffing her sex before sunrise, she knew, 
in the next room. But she cared not at all. Even the ache in her limbs, the 
stiffness of back when she stretched, were pleasant memory triggers. Each 
bruise held the image of another stiff cock. 

She turned toward the dark girl asleep beside her. The big-nippled breasts 
made her mouth water. For a moment she wished she were a man; the possessor 
of a long, veiny swipe, a hard tool capable of spitting thick cream in the 
midnight black wedge between the girl's slim young thighs. Impulsively, she 
reached out. Her thumb and forefinger closed on one bright pink nipple. She 
snuggled closer. Her free hand slipped down the younger girl's flat belly, 
paused. The ebony curls were wiry-like cock-hair! she decided. Not at all 
like the silky white-blonde wedge atop and between her own fuller thighs. 

Greta stirred. Diane waited breathlessly for the minx to settle into slumber 
once more. Now there was a new, stranger, more demanding compulsion within 
her. Her fingers moved through the coarse hair... to the slight 
indentation... to the sweet dip announcing the delightful split in the hot 
little black pussy beside her. Moving closer still, close enough to mouth 
the nipple she'd teased erect, she slipped one fingertip cautiously up 
between the girl's cuntlips. 

"Urn, Skeet. Ummm!" cooed Greta. 

The girl was dreaming, Diane knew, dreaming of her brother's dick in her 
belly. The thought excited her. She sucked harder on the dark girl's 
miniature tittie. Lately everything illicit aroused her, it seemed. She 
worked her finger deeper... searching for the sensitive bud within the tight 
sheath. God! Was her own cunt that close, she wondered. It seemed impossible 
that the swipe that had drilled her love hole earlier, Skeet's bloated 
penis, could penetrate the fiery little gash her finger was probing. Yet she 
knew better... knew the fantastic elasticity of her own vulva, and had seen 
the younger girl take as much as a man had to give. 

"Ow. Ow, Sammy." Abruptly Greta rolled onto her back. Her short legs flew 
open. She moaned and lay still. Diane gasped at the sight of the vulnerable 
young body lying open before her. Now she could understand why Tony, why 
Uncle John, why the others had looked at her with burning desire. Her own 
pussy pulsed. Her nipples stood tall. She slipped further down on the bed... 
down to where a shaft of moonlight cut across the black wedge... down to 
where she could peer into the wet slit her finger was fucking. 

For a moment, positioned between the girl's widespread thighs, face close to 
the pinkness so like yet unlike her own, Diane was content to smell and 
explore with her eyes. But soon Greta began to thrash-the excited love dance 
Diane knew so well-in her sleep. Her narrow hips rose to meet the dipping 
finger. Her breathing quickened. 

Diane couldn't resist any longer. Grinding her hips, her cunt, into the 
rumpled sheets and wool blanket, she inched closer. The younger girl's pussy 
was exquisite. There was just enough light to see the bud standing like a 
sober watchman inside the pouting lips. The black hair, almost blue black, 
shiny, short and springy, was a perfect frame for the aperture. And the 
smell! The aroma was unlike her own gentle fragrance. This was a stronger, 
fishy stink, which was at once repulsive and appealing. "Oh God!" she moaned 
into the breach, ashamed of her uncontrollable desires. She withdrew her 
finger. "I m-mustn't!" she said. "I mustn't! Oh, I mustn't!" 

But her mouth, ignoring the words it spoke, thick with saliva, opened and 
covered the sweet little cunthole dripping goo down the deep crack of 
Greta's ass. She gulped. The taste was intoxicating. She recalled how Fred 
and Uncle John had blown hot air up her pussy. She drank deep of the stink, 
the tangy flavor, and blew with all her might up the girl's flat belly. 

"Owwwwww!" Greta tried to sit up. "Hey! 

Wha...?" 

Diane lifted her face from the sweetness she'd been sucking. "I... I 
c-c-couldn't help it," she choked, throat full of cuntjuice, embarrassment 
flooding her cheeks. "It... you... I just... oh, darn! You were so lovely 
'n' all. I... I just couldn't... I mean oh! Oh, darn it, anyway!" Tears 
sprang into her eyes and rolled hot down her cheeks. 

Greta studied her for a moment. Finally she giggled. "It's okay," she said 
in a small, appealing voice. "Skeet eats me all the time. The others, too. 
All of them. I... I guess I sorta like it. You can if you want to. I... I 
like you, too." 

Diane hugged the girl's hips. As suddenly as it had come, the attack of 
conscience, of revulsion, was gone. Now she felt only passion. Lust. A need. 
A compulsion to do something... something dirty! Quickly she placed her 
mouth over the juicy gap it had vacated, sucked. 

"Ummmmmm!" Greta pumped her hips off the bed. "I... I like that. But you 
should let me eat you, too. Like... owwwwww! Like turn around. We... ah! We 
can do like I do Skeet. Sixty-nine. It's ohoh! It's no fun unless I'm 
sucking, too." 

Quickly Diane obliged. Straddling the younger girl's face, knees wide on 
either side of the dark head, she lowered her cunt and dove back into the 
heated pocket between Greta's slim, white, bathed in moonlight thighs. Her 
tongue lashed out at the same moment a wet dart parted the lips of her 
pussy. "Oh, y-y-yes!" she sobbed. "Ohhhhh!" 

They had barely begun when the door crashed back against the jamb, and 
Sammy-hands on hips, limp cock, like a hunk of bleached rubber, dangling 
from the open fly of his shorts-appeared at the foot of the bed. "Our two 
cunts're at it fer true," he blurted. "Holy fuckin' mother! Hey, guys! Get 
in here 'n' fuckin' lookit this!" 

Diane's tongue leaped from the other girl's black pussy. Too late! Even 
before she could wipe the goo from her face, before she could rearrange her 
body, the three boys had pounced upon the bed-were laughing and making crude 
jokes, poking stiff fingers into her ribs, her ass, her breasts, and 
worse... suggesting she and Greta continue. 

"Okay!" said Greta simply. She giggled. She looked from her brother to 
Diane's burning face. "What's the difference who watches? Besides... I'm 
hot!" 

"Nooo!" protested Diane. "I... I c-c-can't!" 

"The fuck you can't!" growled Skeet. His hand came down hard on the back of 
her head. 

"Yeah! Make 'er suck!" agreed Sammy. "Push 'er face in it. She come back all 
by 'erself so let's see some action." He began whacking the hose hanging 
from the front of the shorts. 

"Get with it, Greta." Tony came out of his jeans. His dick was already 
hard-a fat monster standing away from a shock of black cockhair. "Give us a 
show," he added. "Then we'll all get together. We ain't never tried a 
five-way blowout before." 

It was horrible! The most despicable thing ever! thought Diane as her face 
was forced down, mashed into the stinking slit she'd thought delightful only 
a moment before. It was putrid now. Now she could smell the stronger stink 
of shit, the odor, so thick it could almost be seen, wafting from Greta's 
cute asshole. 

No! Not cute! she corrected herself. Ugly! They had made it horrendous 
again! She wanted to puke. She wanted to... 

"Owwww!" Tony, on his knees behind her at the head of the bed, was fucking 
his long veiny swipe up her chute. 

"Yeah man!" applauded Sammy. "But shit, boss. What about us? Make 'em roll 
on their sides so's I can get at Greta's sweet bunnies. I'm an asshole man 
from 'way back." 

Diane cried out as the cock popped from her asshole and six rough male hands 
turned her so she and Greta-still sucking each other's cunt -lay on their 
sides in the center of the mattress. Then Tony was there again... grinding 
it up her dry chute... causing pain... making her shove her pussy hard at 
the younger girl's face. And Sammy, on his side behind Greta, was replanting 
his meat where it had fucked a mere few hours before, and making the little 
black wedge nip and ripple against her chin. 

Oh God! Diane thought. They were determined to kill her! To embarrass her to 
death! To shame her! But she sucked the wet gash in her face. And as Tony's 
long rod twisted up between her tight jiggly ass cheeks, making her gasp, 
making pleasure out of pain, she experienced another type shame. Now, she 
thought, what a shame it was that Skeet, sitting at the edge of the bed, had 
no place to put the thing standing like a pillar of strength, like an 
all-day sucker, in his lap. She offered her hand... shyly... a thrill 
passing through her as Skeet groaned and closed her fingers about the base 
of his tool. But she wished she possessed something more-another hot hairy 
hole. Something better to give such a magnificent cock. 

She stopped thinking. She sucked Greta's cunt, wiggled her ass, and jerked 
her hand faster and faster... up and down, up and down, up and down... 

She had passed out again. They had fucked her into oblivion. And now they 
lay, all arms and interlocked legs, sprawled over the bedding wet with sweat 
and cum. It was dawn. The first rays of sunlight were cutting into the room. 
And she felt... she felt dizzy but sated, in freefall, coming slowly to 
earth. 

She saw Greta's eyelids flutter. The girl was somewhere between sleep and 
waking. She held her brother's limp cock in her tiny right hand. The other 
hand lay splayed on her belly... above the hairy thigh, Skeet's leg, wedged 
tight between hers. 

She saw Tony. He was smoking a cigarette, propped at the head of the bed, 
grinning. Had they fucked all night, she wondered. She remembered only the 
first time: the four-way sandwich. Could she have done more and forgotten? 
She stared the question at the purple-red dickhead resting serenely on 
Tony's thigh. How lovely! she thought. How wonderful it was to awake to the 
sight of a cock-limp or hard! 

She watched Tony's gaze travel the length of her body. The grin on his face 
widened. She looked down at herself, laughed. Sammy, sprawled at the foot of 
the bed, had one finger up her cunthole... a fact she hadn't noticed before. 
She wiggled free, giggled because the finger came out looking like something 
that had been soaking in a tub of hot water. 

Tony snapped his fingers. She jumped, then smiled because he held the finger 
up and wagged her toward him. Careful not to disturb them, she crawled 
across Greta and Skeet and nestled in the crook of the arm he offered. Tony 
smoked in silence until the cigarette was a mere stub. He reached for the 
ashtray on the bedside table. He shredded the strands of tobacco from the 
burnt cylinder. Turning to her, he asked, "Glad you came back?" 

Diane buried her face in the thick mat of hair on his muscular chest. Was 
she glad, she wondered. In a way, she supposed she was. But she wasn't 
certain. Too many things had happened to her in the month since the 
kidnapping. Strange things. Bad things and good things and things she 
couldn't yet classify. "I suppose," she said finally. 

Tony cupped one firm breast. His fingers toyed with the nipple. "I'm glad 
you came back," he confided. 

The warmth of the statement gushed through Diane. Was it possible, she 
speculated. Was this gruff, darkly handsome boy saying he cared for her? She 
looked up into his deepset brown eyes. The hand on her tittie squeezed 
affectionately. Her own hand moved slowly through the bristly forest that 
began at his chin and traveled an unbroken route to his navel. The hair 
changed texture, became thicker, more coarse, as her fingers neared his sex. 
"Let's go in the other room," she whispered. "So we don't wake the others. 
So... so we can f-f-fuck!" 

But even before she had spoken the words, Sammy, at the foot of the bed, was 
coming out of sleep. He stretched. He looked from them, to the shriveled 
finger that had been up her cunt-hole. He sniffed. "Man!" he announced. 

"It's better this way," said Tony. He captured the hand on his belly, forced 
it down through his cockhair, to the limp hose lying across one muscular 
thigh. 

Diane sighed. She supposed he was right. Two dicks were better than one. And 
three...! Plus there was Greta to think of. Another pussy. Another new 
experience. Her fingers closed on the limpness in Tony's lap. She began to 
work it stiff... gaze darting from Sammy's piss hard-on, to the ebony 
springlets between Greta's smooth thighs, to Skeet's semi-erected cock. Was 
this her, she wondered. The girl-the virgin who fought and yelled like a 
banshee when she was raped in this very same room? 

The thing in her hand began to stir, to swell and jerk. No! she decided. She 
wasn't the same anymore! Something strange and exciting had happened to her. 
Something within had changed, had made her... she didn't know what! She knew 
only that there was a hunger, an emptiness, a thirst for cum in her belly. 
In the hole which could be filled for a while, made better, momentarily 
satisfied by the thing beginning to grow huge in her hand. 

Sammy scurried up beside her-between her and Greta and Skeet. Taking hold of 
her free hand, he closed her small fingers about the shaft of his cock. 
"Best way to start the day is with a fuck," he said, fondling the breast, 
the nipple, opposite the one Tony was kneading. 

"Fucking stupid mother!" yelped Greta, rudely awakened by Sammy's movement. 

"Fuck off!" said Sammy. 

Skeet yawned. He grinned at Sammy. "I'll take care of any fucking off Sis 
has to do." 

Diane thought the banter delightful. Lying flat, propped on pillows between 
the two boys, she jerked the swipes she held in each hand, and watched Skeet 
mount the dark-haired girl. She watched his long, piss-hard poker, still 
stained with cuntjuice from the night before, nose its way into the tiny 
black triangle. How lovely! she thought, cunt twitching as Skeet humped inch 
after thick inch up his sister. 

"That's fer me!" said Sammy. 

"Owah!" Diane lifted her hips, her pussy, onto the shriveled finger the boy 
shoved into the white-blonde wedge between her tense thighs. She made her 
cuntlips work... sucking the nub to the last joint up her vagina. 

"Hold on," said Tony, speaking to his overanxious friend but looking at her. 
"No singles. This morning we're gonna initiate her-show 'er what real good 
fucking is. Me, you 'n' Skeet. Three stiff ones at once." 

Oh God! thought Diane. Three! She could imagine them boring in. She waited 
breathlessly for the union to begin... watching Skeet and Greta... gaze 
shifting from the dick poking the younger girl's twat, to the finger fucking 
her cunthole, to the tips of the swipes she held- one plumb-shaped and pink, 
the other round, purple-red. 

She blinked. There was something missing, she realized. Some intangible. But 
she didn't yet know what it was... knew only that now, open and ready, 
surrounded by cocks waiting to fill her with cream, the excitement she'd 
felt previously had diminished. It was as if her mind had finally caught up 
with her body and the thrill, the overpowering bliss of being taken against 
her will, was gone and had made the difference between plain sex and 
wonderful fucking. 

Sammy shoved his rod hard into her hand. "Christ, boss. 'Member how she 
fought that day in the woods?" 

"Yeah. But she ain't fightin' now," observed Tony. He lowered his face, his 
lips, to the rigid peak of her breast. "She's purrin' like a pussycat." 

Diane drew a sharp breath. That was it! she suddenly realized. The 
intangible! Resistance! Always before, even when she enjoyed what was being 
done to her body, she'd struggled and pleaded and fought with her inner 
self. Now her inner self was calmly accepting the fact that three dicks were 
about to violate her. "Oh God!" she choked, clutching the wrist of the hand 
working her pussy. "Oh God, s-s-stoooooop!" 

Sammy stared as if she were an escapee from the nearest nuthouse. Tony 
glowered up from her nipple. Skeet, poised in midstroke above Greta, looked 
as if his prick were about to go limp from shock. 

"I... I c-can't!" As if they were dirty, things she despised, Diane released 
the two stiff cocks she'd been whacking. She wrestled the hand between her 
legs, twisted her tit away from the mouth sucking the hard little pink bud. 
"I... I won't let you do it. Not three. No! Never!" 

"Shuddup!" Tony slapped her. 

"Oh! You... you f-fuck!" Her nails lashed out, hooked in the skin beneath 
the hair on his chest, and raked. "I won't! I won't! I won't! I... let me 
go!" 

Tony's face turned as dark and menacing as the four clawmarks oozing blood 
down his chest. "Fucking crazy cunt!" 

Diane saw only a blur. But she heard the loud crack, felt the sting as his 
open palm whipped back and forth across her face. She felt the fingers at 
her cunthole become cruel. "Nooobo!" she wailed, lifted from the room, 
thrown back in time, set down on the day her pussy was new-the day the three 
brutes took her from Uncle John's store, brought her to the horrible little 
cabin, and systematically, against her will, took every virgin hole in her 
body. The revulsion came flooding back. But with it came the other, 
stronger, more wonderful sense of being debased. Being raped. Attacked by 
hard male bodies that had lost the last hint of gentleness, and were using, 
subjecting her flesh to their perverted desires. 

"What she needs is a dick in 'er belly, boss." Quickly, pinching the tender 
inside of her thighs until she opened, Sammy scrambled over her belly. His 
cock butted her crotch. "Put it in!" he growled, digging his nails into her 
softness, forcing her to comply. 

"Ohhhhhh!" Hand trembling, Diane took hold of his rod. She set the fat tip 
at her slit. But she closed her cunt tight... wanting the penetration to 
hurt... savoring the first mighty lunge forward. 

Sammy pushed so hard his stiffness bent. He grunted. "Fucking cock-teasing 
bitch! Open that pussy. Open or I'll-" "Make 'er get up on 'er knees," 
directed Tony. "Maybe she'll get the message with my dick in 'er ass." 

Sobbing-not because of the pain, but because the dickhead had deserted her 
sheath-Diane allowed them to lift her. On her knees, thighs wide, she balled 
her hands into fists and pounded Sam's broad shoulders. It did her no good; 
accomplished only what she'd set out to do. Rough hands gripped her waist 
from behind. Other hands captured her wrists. Then the swipe was back at her 
cunthole... pushing in... planting itself while the one at the rear sought 
her tight anus. She moaned. She twisted and pretended to fight. "No!" she 
said over and over. "No! No! NOOOO!" 

"Hey! Save room for me," hollered Skeet. 

Greta protested as the boy yanked his big sloppy wet prick from her wedge. 
She made a grab for him. "Later!" Skeet told her, positioning himself behind 
Sammy, on his feet, steering his meat toward the glistening gap in Diane's 
lovely face. It was madness. The bed became a raft on a sea of sensual 
delight. Diane gasped. She opened her lower body... working her belly, her 
thighs, her asshole... taking both veiny joysticks to the hilt up her hot 
hairy holes. Her lips formed the wide O. She stopped pounding Sam's 
shoulders-stopped pretending and reached for the fat wrinkled balls dangling 
from the roots of the cock about to enter her face. 

"Now ah! Ah fucking man! Now she's gettin' with it!" groaned Sammy. 

"Ummmmm!" Tony's teeth sank into the back of her neck. His hands cupped her 
jiggling buttocks. Spreading her open, making room for his dick to bite 
deeper, he began to dip slowly in and out of the tuft of down surrounding 
her little brown slit. 

"Oh! What about meee?" cried Greta. 

"Get yer cunt over here!" ordered Tony. He waited for the dark-haired girl 
to comply. "Now sit yer ass on Diane's shoulders," he directed. "Spread 'em 
open, sweetheart. Tony's got somethin' you'll dig." 

Diane couldn't believe the fantastic arrangement of bodies. She felt Greta's 
small dimpled behind come to rest on her shoulders-felt the sticky 
cuntjuice, the residue of Skeet's fucking, drip down her back, and thought 
sure she was dreaming all this. But the nuts in her hand were no dream. And 
the dick-the long stinking thing grinding into her face-was too hot, too 
stiff and good, to be a mere fantasy. She heard Greta coo as Tony's tongue 
lapped noisily up her sopping wet pussy. She heard Sammy grunt. She heard 
the cock up her forebelly begin to slurp in time to the tongue swabbing 
close to her ear, in time to the rod reaming her asshole. 

"Oh Gog!" she gurgled on Skeet's pistoning member. "Oh Gog, fuck! Fuck! 
FUCK!" 

No one had to be told. Greta's sweet, thirteen-year-old cunt, the lovely 
black wedge Diane had sucked the night before, nipped furiously at the 
tongue licking hotly between her slim young thighs. Tony's meat set a steady 
fuck pace. Skeet, his hand at the back of her blonde head, shafted his bowed 
lovelance mightily in and out of the face of the once innocent girl they'd 
taught every trick, every nuance of screwing. 

And Sammy! Best of all, thought Diane, was the lengthy swipe grating roughly 
across her tense clit. Best of all were the exquisite sensations it 
triggered. The time for shame, for revulsion and pretense, was over. Now was 
the time to screw. To work her inner cunt muscles. To wiggle her ass. To 
draw on the knob of the joint deep in her mouth. No! she thought. She was no 
longer the sweet innocent girl who lost her maidenhead in this same bed! 
That part of her life was over. Gone forever. She was a woman now. A woman 
skilled in the intricacies of sex. Of sucking and fucking. Of pleasure. 

"Ah!" Skeet planted his throbbing dick to the hilt. "Hold tight, baby. I... 
I'm coming!" 

"You said it!" chimed Sammy, listing to one side, making room for Skeet and 
fucking his prick into her at an angle. 

On her shoulders, Greta squirmed and squealed. Tony lapped. The pole up her 
rectum tensed. Then the window beside the bed seemed to explode-letting in 
light second only to the bright flash racing simultaneously from the dicks 
in her face, ass and forebelly. 

Diane gulped the thick cream. She fucked her hips round and round on the 
stuff spitting off in her cunthole and rectum. She drove herself toward the 
light, toward the fulfillment building up in her clit. Orgasm! she thought, 
feeling it begin. Nothing else mattered-not Uncle John, not tomorrow, not 
anything. Nothing except reaching the place where pussies and pricks and 
assholes and mouths united.
