That third beer definitely got to her. She felt as if she might be ill, and the noisy room seemed to be closing in on her. Perry was an old hand at this sort of thing though, and he knew just what to do. He took her outside and walked her around the parking lot once, ignoring her apologies and assuring her that she was all right, and supporting her by the arm in a very gentlemanly manner. The rain had let up and the night air felt good, and it felt very good to sit down in his car.
"Where're you taking me?" she asked, when he started off.
"Home."
"That's good," she said, and settled down more comfortably. "I need to sleep. Drank too much beer. Have you got my purse?"
"Baby, I've got everything," he said, and she chuckled at his calling her that. She slept on the way to her apartment.
A dog's barking woke her up, and she peered groggily through the windshield to see a small house set off by itself on the edge of a cornfield. She remembered having seen it as a child, but she couldn't remember where it was and she knew it was far from her apartment.
"Where'd you take me?" she asked, as he got out.
He came around and opened her door, took her by the arm and pulled her out of the car. "Come on inside before it starts raining again."
"I've gotta go home," she protested, as he pulled her along. He was almost rough with her now, not at all like when he'd guided her around through all those cars, and she lost a shoe in the soft ground.
He wouldn't go back for it. He said he'd get it later, when she was comfortable inside, and she forgot about it when the big black dog appeared to bark with terrifying loudness at her side. It was almost a relief to get inside the dark little house, and then she was being kissed with a passionate ferocity that she'd never known existed before in a man.
It had to be Chuck kissing her, but it wasn't at all like him to hold her so tightly that she couldn't breathe, or to mash his mouth on hers so very hard and stab his tongue into her. She struggled to be free of him but that was no use at all, and then she struggled harder still when she felt his hands on her behind. They were digging in there, not really hurting her, but intolerably uncomfortable there, and she wrenched her mouth from his and told him to stop, to cut it out.
Immediately she was grabbed by the hair and forced into another hot, tonguing kiss, and even though her scalp hurt she now yielded to the good, powerful feelings sweeping over her. She slung her arms about his neck and dug into his mouth with her tongue, feeling the heat of him clear down to her toes and wanting him to feel the same thing. She squirmed her breasts against his chest because they itched in such a wonderful way, and when he had both hands on her bottom again she wanted to moan with the bliss she felt at being able to thrust her passion-engorged loins against his hardness. She felt him ruck her skirt up in the back and she didn't care. His clutching hands felt even better on her panty-clad bottom, and she went up on her toes as she kissed him harder, secure in his arms from the dizziness that assailed her.
She was allowed to breathe in a great, shuddering breath as he panted heavily at her ear. "You like this, Miss Tightass? You want to fuck?"
"Don't say that," she mumbled against the warmth of his pulsing throat. "Don't say anything."
"You got a great ass, baby. You were made for fucking."
His hands were on her bare flesh now. He had one of his hands inside her panties to squeeze and knead her bare buttocks and make the nylon crotchband ride up in her seething, wet slit. Her blouse was out of the waistband of her skirt and he was using his other hand to roughly massage her breast. She wanted him to kiss her again, not only to add to the wonderful sensuality she was feeling but also to quiet his chuckling and the hot, dirty words he was saying in her ear. And when he did kiss her, she plastered herself against his strong body and licked and lapped and sucked at his tongue. She pushed herself against his moving hands and squirmed against his body and let the good feelings run rampant in her.
"Let's see what's goin' on," he said, and she was pushed back to lean against a wall.
The lights blinded her and she covered her eyes, and now his laugh was harsh, as were his words. "Well, look at her now. Miss Tightass with her tits showing and her skirt all twisted up and her stockings run. And all ready for more. Let's see how you look with your hair down."
She realized it was Coleman then, and that gave her the strength to fight back as he came at her again. But he was so strong and she was so vulnerable. She couldn't stop him from yanking the barrettes out of her hair and at the same time cover her breasts, which had somehow gotten free of her brassiere. And when her hair was down, she couldn't keep both his hands from pinching and poking her exposed flesh. He kept her pinned to the wall with his body as he ripped and pulled and tugged at her blouse and bra, ignoring her pleas, laughing at her screams. He kissed her again and she wasn't even able to bite him. He had his hand on her bare breast then, molding it to whatever shape he wanted. She knew she was being raped, and it terrified her. But there in his arms she felt so helpless to resist that her temptation was very great to simply go along with it and have it over with as quickly as possible.
Still she couldn't do that. She had to ignore the shamefully wonderful feelings sweeping through her and fight back, even though her chance of escape was absurd. She had to push and claw and kick at him, even though it meant getting into ever closer contact with his hard, hot, panting body.
At first she thought it was his prick that was touching her vulva, but then she almost wilted with relief when she realized it was his fingers there, working back and forth over her slick, wet clitoris even though her legs were clamped tightly together over it. For a moment it felt better by far than her own hand did, better by far than anything she'd ever known in her life, but then it was the foul hand of a rapist there and she renewed her struggles to escape.
"Stop it! Perry, stop it! I'll have you arrested!"
He slapped her across the face, banging her head back against the wall so hard that she almost blacked out. She managed to keep on her feet, and freed of the dreadful attack for a moment, she plucked feebly at her torn clothing while she tried to clear her head.
The sight of him undressing did it. For a few moments she stood there paralyzed, not really believing he was actually taking off all his clothes. But then she saw his penis, as thick as she'd remembered it but so very long. It was twice as large as the gnawing cavity in her belly and it was upward-curving, a stout shaft capped with a huge knob, and fitted with a single eye that stared accusingly at her. In a flash she was perfectly sober and able to slip away from his groping hand and get out the front door.
She kicked off her remaining shoe dashing across his porch and then was off at a ragged sprint through the darkness. She didn't try to cover herself as she ran. She ardently hoped it was her nightmare, but the rain in her face and the dog barking and, worst of all, the fast footsteps behind her, told her it was all too real. He caught up with her before she'd gone twenty feet.
She was driven down in the mud under his heavy body, and it stunned her. She could hardly fight at all as her panties were torn from her body and she was rolled over, her slip and skirt up around her waist, her breasts defenseless. He was wedging her legs open with his knee, and though she knew this was the time to kick him in the testicles, she couldn't do it for he wouldn't let her. He was incredibly naked, and she could feel his penis, hot on her leg.