There was a sting in her eyes by the time she pulled the new dress, the white knit now stretched out of shape and stained, on over her aching head. She held her tears back. Setting her jaw, head high, she stepped toward the car.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" snapped Larry from behind the wheel.
"I… I…"
"You shit!" He laughed. The other boys, leaning on the front fenders of the other car, joined him. Larry turned the ignition key and the motor roared.
"You… you can't just go," she squeaked, realizing that he meant to leave her there in the woods, miles and miles from home. Fury banished the shame. "I… I'll tell!" she squalled, searching the moonlit ground at her feet for a big rock to hit him with. "I… I'll have you all… you… I."
She paused to chew her lip as the other boys climbed into the car, the driver gunning the engine. "Ohhhh… I'll tell the police and have you all locked up forever and ever!"
"Who the fuck'd believe you?" Again Larry laughed, an ugly, mocking sound. Extending his finger, he backed the convertible out from under the low branches. The other car made a wide backward arch, joining him.
"Thanks for the suck-off, baby," called the boy with the awful uncircumcised cock.
"Yeah!" hollered another, "We'll come see you next time we got a load for your mouth."
"Or next time we want Rome good cunt," added the one who'd followed Larry, fucking a second hot gush of liquid juice up her pussy.
Wendy's cheeks burned. Her gaze settled on the weapon she'd been hunting. The horns began to toot, the cars nosing toward the narrow dirt road off the point. Quickly she bent for the rock, stood and flung it.
"Come back," she wailed, watching the rock drop impotently behind Larry's convertible. Again she stomped her foot; she yelped in pain from the dumb stone that had gotten inside her shoe. The tears came. She shivered, crying as she watched the red taillights blink and listened to the jeers fade into the night.
It took her almost an hour to walk down from the point to the main highway, and already it was past curfew. She knew Daddy would be furious – more so because he'd ranted and raged when she first mentioned the date with Larry. Now she felt like the little girl he and Mummy said she was: vulnerable, in need of protection. She stood at the side of the road not knowing what to do, wanting to cry again but all out of tears.
At the far end of the highway, like the bright eyes of a panther racing out of the night, she saw headlights. Were they coming back? she wondered. She could imagine them stopping somewhere for coffee, discussing her threats, and jumping back into the cars to come rescue her.
Well, it'd do them absolutely no good! she decided. Her legs trembling from the long walk, her body and cunthole aching, she watched the twin beams draw near. She'd teach them! she thought. She wouldn't get in – no matter how tired she was, no matter how much they pleaded and said they were sorry. Turning, she began to walk along the side of the highway.
The car jerked to a stop at the shoulder directly beside her. The door opened. "Want a lift, honey?"
Wendy blinked at the elderly man leaning across the front seat. She'd been so sure it would be Larry that the stranger caught her off guard.
The door opened wider. The man smiled. "C'mon," he said in a deep, soothing voice. "You look beat, kid. Just tell me where, I'll drop you at the front gate."
Wendy fidgeted. "I… I…"
"Okay, then. I was just trying to help." The car door started to close.
"No wait!" she cried. "I've been walking for hours and hours. My boyfriend… I… he…"
She stepped into the car, welcoming the softness of the cool leather beneath her sore bottom and legs. She looked wide-eyed into the man's face. He seemed pleasant enough – old enough to be her Grandpa, with gray at his temple and wrinkles above bushy brows. She drew a sharp breath and pulled her tummy in tight when he reached suddenly across her. She bit her lip, expecting the worst. But then he closed the door and winked, and sat straight behind the wheel; she went gratefully limp, watching him set the big car in motion.
The hum of the tires was soothing. She huddled in a ball in the passenger corner of the front seat, not wanting to doze. But the man was paying no attention to her; he was staring dead ahead, concentrating on the highway that went on and on and on, like an endless ribbon of concrete from nowhere to nowhere.
She nodded, slipping lower on the cool leather, not caring that the mini rode high on her tightly closed thighs. Her lids refused not to close. There were two tiny men sprinkling sand at the back of her eyes, and the car's rhythm, the unbroken pace, was crooning a sweet little girl lullaby to her.
She was dreaming. The man had taken her all the way home and put her to bed, and Daddy, her wonderful daddy, had come silently into the room. Now he was kissing her thighs, fingers coaxing her legs gently apart so he could get at the torn crotch in the black pantyhose. She sighed, rearranging her legs. She heard him groan – felt his wet mouth washing the dried cum from her little red pussy. She loved that. She loved it when Daddy, when anyone with a moist tongue, was nice to her down there.
She felt the rubbery thing dart up her sore cuntlips, and then down. She trembled. Daddy hadn't been this nice to her in such a long time. He was always taking what he wanted of her; like Larry and the others, Doctor Bruce, the matrons and girls at the home, he was always making her sob and beg before he climbed between her gaping thighs to fuck his dick up her asshole. She didn't understand that: Daddy said they could never do it the right way, because she was his own little girl, and no matter how much he wanted her the right way, no matter how often they fooled around and he fucked her every other way, be would never allow himself to put cum in her cunt. She supposed it had something to do with her getting pregnant. Still, it was stupid: grown-up dumb! But although it hurt something fierce up her rear, and made her whimper and strain when she went to the bathroom next morning, it was worth it to have Daddy do what he was now doing to her tingling clit.
Moaning, hips and ass already in motion, she lifted when he tugged at the cumbersome pantyhose. She felt the undergarment slip down and off. She opened her legs, waiting, wanting the dream to last, wanting to feel the hurt of Daddy humping his dick up her asshole.
"Don't wake up," a strange voice whispered. "Sleep tight, sweet little girl. Open your legs, your pretty red pussy, but keep your eyes closed."
Her eyes refused to obey the soft command. She was in the man's car, not her bedroom, she suddenly realized, and the fat dickhead between her cum-crusted thighs didn't belong to Daddy. Not her daddy, anyway.
Her mouth opened. But the halfhearted protest was silenced by the electric-like thrill of the man's long, veiny cock forcing its way in one mighty lunge up her cunthole.
"I won't hurt you," he choked, lifting her hips, reaching beneath her to take hold of the plump, quivering halves of her gyrating bottom.
She knew it would do no good to object: it never did, not since Lew Ogden. She was beginning to think of herself – her curly red pussy, her asshole, her mouth – as a jism receptacle. Everywhere she went, everything she did, no matter how innocently the day began, it always ended in fucking. There was something about her, some mysterious part of her that drew stiff pricks and abuse as sticky paper draws flies.
Yet the joint in her slippery cunt wasn't abusing her. It was basking up there, the glans drinking in her warmth. It felt good. So good she now wished he'd undressed before parking at the side of the highway and putting it in. She wanted to feel his fat balls, to heft and compare them with the memory of those she'd held up at the point. She wanted to tell him to take the stupid pants and shorts off, and ram the last inch of hard dick up her sopping wet twat.
Instead she said, "I didn't say you could…"