Author Topic: The Cusp of Womanhood  (Read 1739 times)

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August 28, 2017, 10:02:24 PM

Offline Jed

WARNING!    You must be 18 or over to read these stories of rape and non-consensual sex.  This particular story features a character under the age of 18.  If you do not like such stories, please stop reading. This story is all fiction and no characters in it are meant to resemble any real person.  If you do not understand the difference between reality and fantasy, read no more. Rape is a heinous crime and the penalty is many years in prison. The people who commit rape are despised everywhere. No one is being hurt, and this is pure fantasy.

The Cusp of Womanhood

Preface and an Acknowledgement

This weekend I took my camper trailer to a family campground, still sort of breaking it in, in preparation for trips far more rustic.  This particular campground was rather busy with lots of activities going on.  There was a one lane bridge to get to my reserved site, and I was crossing it slow as is expected.  The posted speed was 5 miles per hour, and I was probably doing less than that crossing the wood bridge.  Waiting to cross from the other way and looking rather impatient was a young girl in a go-cart.  Normally I wouldn’t give a girl that young anything but a glance, except I saw something that would get the attention of most men.

The girl’s face was rather ordinary, nothing that would make you think she was particularly pretty.  Not bad looking mind you, just not a memorable face.  Some of that was due to her being completely devoid of any makeup, and it didn’t help she seemed to be either scowling at me for driving too slow or squinting into the sun.  My glance over at her that lingered had nothing to do with her face and everything to do with her developing breasts.

It was one of those moments where we men become little boys in that our brains go, ‘Hey look, titties!”  That reaction seems to transcend the age of us men or the age of the girl possessing those secondary sexual characteristics of developed or developing mammary glands.

She had on one of those girl shirts.  No boy would wear a shirt that had a V in the neck like that.  She was hunched over the steering wheel of the go-cart, and I could clearly see the bare swell of her creamy white breasts visible in that neckline.  I’m not good at guessing cup size, but I imagine an A-cup straining to be a B more due to the pronounced swell rather than the overall size.  She was a small girl probably around 4’9”, and her breasts were proportionally small, but they did push out from her body in a way that no longer said ‘little girl’.

I couldn’t quite see her nipples, but I saw enough to know she was not wearing a bra.  As I drove past I wondered how a parent could let a girl that young and that developed run around without a bra.  The girl was obviously clueless she was showing me her tits.  I could tell having them was entirely new to her, as any girl possessing breasts for any length of time would be to some extent conscious of hiding them from view in a way she was not.

I don’t know her exact age obviously, but I’m quite sure she was at least a year or two younger than my cut-off in including girls in stories, which is 14.  I don’t lust after underage girls less than 18, but anyone reading my stories could guess I do have fantasies about them.  For me such fantasies have to be hypothetical, in that I don’t really fantasize about actual underage girls I know.  That’s not to say I don’t look at young girls (obviously given what I’m describing here), but it’s more along the line of briefly admiring the flowers I know I’ll never actually pick and place in a vase.

I thought about that girl over the weekend, and even saw her again as I was leaving on Sunday.  She was sitting with some family members still looking rather ordinary in the face.  She didn’t flash me her tits this time.  What I kept thinking about was how this girl kept reminding me of the girl Rose in Brokenwing’s story ‘Daddy’s Debt’.

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I started to imagine a girl like that completely unfamiliar with a man’s touch.  I’m not talking about one of a girl’s male peers near her own age who might try and cop a clumsy feel, even if successfully.  I mean a young girl suddenly being subjected to her body being touched and handled by a man intimately familiar with touching girls.  She is fondled and caressed by a man who knows exactly where to touch a girl to arouse her, and the girl soon finds herself helplessly responding to his touch.  The girl knows she should try and escape, but she finds herself unable to even try.

I decided to write such a story.  Sorry for all that rambling without actually having a story post to make just yet, but coming very soon.  While that girl in the campground may have been the trigger, it’s Brokenwing’s stories that has me on a path to do one similar to hers.  I’ll excuse myself from doing a story about a girl possibly younger than my usual cutoff of 14 by simply not mentioning her age.

August 29, 2017, 06:03:32 PM
Reply #1

Offline Emily

Reading things like this always makes me think of all the men I grew up around as a girl. Were they thinking the same things? Even when I was young and just beginning to blossom, did they consider me desirable? Did the thought of fucking me cross my mind, even if I had no desire to be fucked? So many possibilities to consider. So many outcomes to revel over.

August 29, 2017, 07:54:51 PM
Reply #2

Offline Jed

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Reading things like this always makes me think of all the men I grew up around as a girl. Were they thinking the same things? Even when I was young and just beginning to blossom, did they consider me desirable. Did the thought of fucking me cross their mind, even if I had no desire to be fucked? So many possibilities to consider. So many outcomes to revel over.

Some did, but those of us that find such thoughts cross our minds, we don't act upon those thoughts; at least those of us that are decent don't.

This story will be not be about decent men.

August 30, 2017, 06:58:54 AM
Reply #3

Offline Jed

I Hate These Things

It began when they first started to hurt, and then there was this new hardness under my nipples.  It seemed to be the left one first, but then the other one too.  I complained to momma, and she looked at me strangely and said I was too young.  I didn’t know what she meant then.  When they began to swell, even I knew what was going on even before momma told me.  Momma’s are big.  I expect mine will be too one day.

Ever since I can remember Billy was my friend.  I had girls that were friends come and go, but Billy was always there.  That was until I got these things.  Billy got weird then, and he started calling me ‘Boobies’ and could talk of nothing else.  Then one day he pulled me close and grabbed one squeezing it twice yelling, “Honk…honk!”

That was the end of the friendship I had with Billy.  It wasn’t my fault.  I didn’t tell.  It was one of the other girls who saw.  She told her mother, who told my mother, who then called Billy’s mother.  And then that was that.

It wasn’t just Billy, or even just other boys.  Everywhere I went it seemed liked they looked at me, boys and men I mean.  That was the other thing.  Silly boys looking at me I could handle, it was the grownup men.  At first I thought they were looking at my face.  They weren’t.  They were looking lower, they were looking at my breasts.  When I figured that out, I just wanted to disappear.

It was awful.  I had to wear a bra, but I hated that too, a lot.  The bra itched.  It felt like it was strangling me around my chest.  I would sneak out without a bra, but then I would get stared at even more.  I avoided wearing one, but then I had to avoid men when I did.  They looked at me even harder when I didn’t wear a bra.  I knew it was because my nipples would show.

I felt all fluttery inside when they looked at me, the men not the silly boys.  It was more than just being uncomfortable with their stares, the men.  It was the way I felt, not just in my head.  Stuff would happen, weird stuff.  Somehow them looking at my nipples would make them get hard.  And when they got hard, they would show even more like my nipples wanted the men to look at them.  If that wasn’t weird enough, I would also get wet down there.  It made no sense, but I would.  It made me feel nasty and dirty, but also good in a weird way.

I hated it when my panties got wet, I think.  There was a part of it that felt good too, weird but good.  The men would look at me, and I would feel my face turn red, my nipples would get hard, and then I could feel my panties getting wet.  When the men looked at me, I wondered if it meant they wanted to do things with me that men and women do.  Thinking about that made the wetness even worse.  I wasn’t supposed to go out without a bra for over 6 months now, almost a whole year, but I still did.  I told myself I hated when men looked at me and saw my nipples, but deep down I knew that was a lie.

I didn’t have very many bras, and they always seemed to be too small.  Sometimes I didn’t wear one because I had none clean.  Mom complained about having to buy new ones every couple months.  It wasn’t my fault my breasts were growing so fast.  It started in the fall, so it wasn’t so bad.  I could hide them under sweaters and coats especially during the winter.  Then spring came and went, and I wasn’t able to hide them anymore in the summer heat.  That’s when I lost Billy as a friend, and the men really started to look at me.

The thing is about the men looking at me.  I looked at them too.  Sometimes I looked at older boys, but it was mostly the grownups.  I noticed sometimes the men I looked at most looked a little like dad.  I couldn’t help sometimes but glance at them lower down and wonder.  I saw Billy’s once when we were about 6.  He was peeing outside and I peeked from behind a bush.  It was a tiny thing, and I figured men had ones that were much bigger.  I couldn’t help but wonder about those things, and when I did, it happened again.  My face would flush, my nipples would get hard and my panties would get wet.  I just hate it.  What’s wrong with me?

August 30, 2017, 11:45:34 AM
Reply #4

Offline Emily

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Reading things like this always makes me think of all the men I grew up around as a girl. Were they thinking the same things? Even when I was young and just beginning to blossom, did they consider me desirable. Did the thought of fucking me cross their mind, even if I had no desire to be fucked? So many possibilities to consider. So many outcomes to revel over.

Some did, but those of us that find such thoughts cross our minds, we don't act upon those thoughts; at least those of us that are decent don't.

This story will be not be about decent men.

Then you'll certainly forgive me for reading this story, and thinking about it from my own perspective. This should be fun, hehe. :)

August 30, 2017, 01:48:56 PM
Reply #5

Offline Jed

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Reading things like this always makes me think of all the men I grew up around as a girl. Were they thinking the same things? Even when I was young and just beginning to blossom, did they consider me desirable. Did the thought of fucking me cross their mind, even if I had no desire to be fucked? So many possibilities to consider. So many outcomes to revel over.

Some did, but those of us that find such thoughts cross our minds, we don't act upon those thoughts; at least those of us that are decent don't.

This story will be not be about decent men.

Then you'll certainly forgive me for reading this story, and thinking about it from my own perspective. This should be fun, hehe. :)

And when you read a story about a young girl being used, you don't usually picture yourself as the girl?

August 30, 2017, 09:00:38 PM
Reply #6

Offline Jed

The Hooch Show

Every summer the carnival came to our town.  It was a big deal especially for us that lived so close to the fairgrounds.  Having it a short walk away meant we didn’t have to beg to be taken by car, have our parents there the whole time or have to leave when they wanted.  I did have to be home by dark, but starting a couple years ago I would sneak back out after pretending to go to bed.  The carnival went on until late, and it was very different after dark.

I didn’t have enough money to get on very many rides or to eat much.  Mom would always say wait until the ride goes a few times, don’t be the first on.  She said it was in case the ride broke.  She said people could die.  I never saw a ride break though.  I mostly hung out with other kids and walked around.  It started on Wednesday and went to Sunday.  I think Monday and Tuesday was about packing up and going to another town.

I saw dad there that first day, Wednesday.  He was in the beer tent with his friends, but then left very early I knew because of work the next day.  It was just mom and me now, dad had moved across town a couple years ago.  I saw him often, but it was still not enough.

I knew about the hooch show.  The girls would come out wearing skimpy outfits, and men would rush over to look at them.  I knew they wanted the men to pay money to go inside the tent.  I couldn’t help wondering what went on inside that tent.  Boys told me they would sneak peeks under the tent, but men working for the carnival would chase them away.  Sometimes they would catch a boy and scare him really bad.

I went to bed early that Wednesday and so did mom.  She fell asleep quick, and I slipped out the window.  I just had on a t-shirt with no bra and short shorts.  The shorts were kinda tight, but then my hips had gotten big just like my breasts.  It was only a little after 9PM when I got back to the carnival, and I was the only kid I saw.  I knew others should be around, but I didn’t see any.  I snuck over by the hooch show to look.  The hoochie girls were coming out to get more men interested in the next show.

There was an ugly fat man wearing bib overalls with no shirt.  He was eating a whole quarter of a large watermelon and hurried over to the girls as fast as his fat body let him.  His fat belly looked sticky from the watermelon juice.  I saw him lift the watermelon to a girl on the platform, and she leaned down brushing her dark hair back and took a little bite.  All the men watched her intently, and the fat man laughed.  After she bit and leaned back up, he took a bite right where she had bit and laughed again.

There were 5 of the girls, and soon they went inside, and men lined up to pay to go in.  I don’t know what came over me, but I wanted to see inside.  I looked around to see if the men that watched for kids were looking, and just then I saw him looking right at me.  It was the guy that watched for kids and chased them away, and he was staring right at me from only about 10 feet away.  He looked kinda mean, and I was afraid.  I was suddenly very conscious of not having a bra on, and looked down.  My nipples were showing, but not too bad.  I looked back up, and the man had walked away.

With him gone, I don’t know what came over me.  I ran around behind the tent.  No one was there, and it was dark, so I crawled under the tent.  It was really dark, and I realized I was under some sort of wood platform like they had outside.  It was a stage for the girls.  It seemed like it was about 4 feet high.  I could almost stand up under it.  I’m 4’9” now and getting taller it seemed every day, growing that way too, not just filling out.

I wasn’t sure if I could see anything, but there was a crack in the wood to one side where I could see light coming in.  I got close and looked.  The stage was U-shaped, so on this far side I could see the other side of the U and the back.  I could see a couple of the girls getting on the stage and could hear a couple above me clumping on the wood.  I watched while the girls danced, and then they began stripping what little clothes they had on.  I watched them, but really I was watching the men and how they acted towards the girls.

The men were putting dollar bills in the girl’s bottoms and tops.  Then I saw a man wave a 5 dollar bill to a girl.  She leaned way down and pulled her top down baring her breast.  The man reached up and began squeezing it.  I was stunned to see her let him do that.  She only let him do it for a little bit, then took the bill and stood back up.  I saw other men do the same thing, offer 5 dollar bills to squeeze one of the girls.  It was making me feel funny.  I kept thinking about the men squeezing me, and I could feel my nipples get hard, and I got a little wet down there.  And then a man held a whole 10 dollar bill out.  I couldn’t believe what happened next.  A girl pulled her bottom out, and the man stuck his hand right in her panties.  I could see him work his fingers in there, but then the girl snatched the bill out of his hands and turned away.

I guess I was really distracted by what I was seeing, because I didn’t hear him at all.  I smelled him first and knew he was there, but for some reason I didn’t turn around.  The smell reminded me of my dad and how he used to smell when he came home from work.  It was the smell of a man that did an honest day’s work.  When he used to live with us, I used to run to him when he came through the door and shove my face in his chest to smell him.  I loved to smell my daddy that way.  He would hug me for a bit, and then go take a shower.  I liked how he smelled after the shower too, but not as much as when he was all sweaty and smelling like a working man.

That was the same man smell I recognized under the wooden stage there inside the hooch show.  I don’t know why I didn’t turn around to look at him.  I knew he was there.  And then he put a big rough hand over my mouth and whispered, “What are you looking at little bird, the girls?”
I was suddenly really scared, and I shook my head as much as his hand would let me.
Then he whispered again, “Are you looking at the men looking at those girls?”
I was and I wanted to lie about it, but my head nodded ‘yes’ to him.

I was really scared and getting more scared every second, and then he asked in a whisper, “You want to be one of those girls being touched by the men?”
This time I shook my head ‘no’, but then he whispered, “Liar.”
I couldn’t speak to deny it, but deep down I knew he was right.

It was then I tried to struggle away from him, but his other hand had a grip on my hip and waist.  I tried to pull on his hand over my mouth and then the other one holding me, but it was like trying to move an oak tree.  The hand on my hip moved to my belly under my shirt.  I started to think he wouldn’t dare, but then the hand moved up under my shirt.

When he cupped my breast under my shirt I tried to scream, but all that came out was a muffled squeal.  I struggled but he held me hard.  His hand squeezed and caressed my breast and then he got my nipple between his fingers and pinched it tight.  I could feel it getting real hard, and then I heard myself moan and my body seemed to move on its own.  I was pressing my breast against his hand, but I didn’t want to.  He just kept touching me, both of my breasts under my shirt making me moan and squirm and push against his hand.  I didn’t know what was wrong with me.  It was like I had no control over my body.

I knew I was getting wet, and all I could think of was I didn’t want him to know that.  It was almost like he read my mind.  His hand stopped squeezing my breasts and quickly moved down.  Before I knew it, he had unsnapped my shorts.  I knew I was in really big trouble then, and tried to struggle harder.  It didn’t help.  He held me good and hard.  He fumbled a little, and then slowly pulled down the zipper to my shorts.  It was then I knew I couldn’t stop him from doing what he wanted.  I was really scared.

August 31, 2017, 12:00:22 PM
Reply #7

Offline Emily

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Reading things like this always makes me think of all the men I grew up around as a girl. Were they thinking the same things? Even when I was young and just beginning to blossom, did they consider me desirable. Did the thought of fucking me cross their mind, even if I had no desire to be fucked? So many possibilities to consider. So many outcomes to revel over.

Some did, but those of us that find such thoughts cross our minds, we don't act upon those thoughts; at least those of us that are decent don't.

This story will be not be about decent men.

Then you'll certainly forgive me for reading this story, and thinking about it from my own perspective. This should be fun, hehe. :)

And when you read a story about a young girl being used, you don't usually picture yourself as the girl?

Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't. Depends on the story, really. Let's just say that I hope you're thinking of me as that girl as you write this. How's that for a bit of inspiration?

Oh, and plus those last few paragraphs are incredibly hot and well-written. I'm getting wetter than she is just reading it! :)

August 31, 2017, 05:28:33 PM
Reply #8

Offline Jed

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Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't. Depends on the story, really. Let's just say that I hope you're thinking of me as that girl as you write this. How's that for a bit of inspiration?

Oh, and plus those last few paragraphs are incredibly hot and well-written. I'm getting wetter than she is just reading it! :)

You as a an awkward young girl struggling with new hormones surging inside you causing new feelings and desires, and you suddenly find yourself being firmly handled by a rough man like me?  You feel strange and completely lacking in confidence, unlike the man making you squirm and do things as he confidently touches you?

August 31, 2017, 05:53:41 PM
Reply #9

Offline Emily

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Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't. Depends on the story, really. Let's just say that I hope you're thinking of me as that girl as you write this. How's that for a bit of inspiration?

Oh, and plus those last few paragraphs are incredibly hot and well-written. I'm getting wetter than she is just reading it! :)

You as a an awkward young girl struggling with new hormones surging inside you causing new feelings and desires, and you suddenly find yourself being firmly handled by a rough man like me?  You feel strange and completely lacking in confidence, unlike the man making you squirm and do things as he confidently touches you?

That sums it up quite nicely, yes.

August 31, 2017, 06:43:38 PM
Reply #10

Offline Jed

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Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't. Depends on the story, really. Let's just say that I hope you're thinking of me as that girl as you write this. How's that for a bit of inspiration?

Oh, and plus those last few paragraphs are incredibly hot and well-written. I'm getting wetter than she is just reading it! :)

You as a an awkward young girl struggling with new hormones surging inside you causing new feelings and desires, and you suddenly find yourself being firmly handled by a rough man like me?  You feel strange and completely lacking in confidence, unlike the man making you squirm and do things as he confidently touches you?

That sums it up quite nicely, yes.

I thought maybe.

I have another post, just need to proof it at least one more time.  It will be up either tonight or early AM tomorrow.

August 31, 2017, 07:27:21 PM
Reply #11

Offline gscmar64

From one older man to another I can relate to what you're writing here!

August 31, 2017, 09:15:47 PM
Reply #12

Offline Jed

Helpless to His Touch

I was so scared.  I had mostly stopped struggling, but I could feel tears and knew I was crying.  Once he had my shorts unfastened, he pushed them off one of my hips, and then the other, and then down and past my knees.  For some reason, I was glad he couldn’t see well.  My hair down there was a little darker than the blond hair on my head and more curly.  Somehow, I thought that if he couldn’t see it, meant nothing more was going to happen.  I was wrong.

I tried to clamp my legs shut, but he still worked his hand in there.  And then he pinched inside my thigh until it hurt so bad I opened my legs some.  His lips near my ear whispered again, “Wider.”
He was pressing inside my legs, so I knew he meant I should open my legs wider to let him get his hand in there better.  I didn’t want to, but when he told me I had to, I did it.  He slid a finger down there, and I heard myself moan against his hand over my mouth even louder than I did when he fondled my breasts.

His finger sliding along my button made it feel like it was on fire.  It was sliding in my folds too, but it was the rubbing on my button that was making me squirm and moan.  I felt so ashamed, but then he whispered again to me, “That’s one soaked pussy you got little bird.  Now stop pretending you don’t love my hands on your body and just relax dirty girl.”

I was mortified.  I felt more shame than I ever did in my life from his words.  His hand down there felt how wet I was, and I knew I was the dirty girl he said I was.  He whispered the word, “Relax,” again, and I felt myself stop struggling.  I was still squirming, but I wasn’t trying to get out of his grip any more.  The squirming was because of what he was doing with his fingers.  Then I noticed I had opened my legs even wider for his hand down there.  That had pushed my shorts and panties from my knees down to my ankles.  At one point his finger pressed inside me a little.  I could feel him find some resistance, and he gave a little grunt.  I wondered if that meant he knew I was a virgin.

He let go of my mouth just then, and I began gasping for air like I had been suffocated.  He took hold of my t-shirt and pulled it up.  I don’t know why, but I lifted my arms letting him pull it over my head.  Now he had one hand rubbing between my legs and another pinching one of my nipples.  All I could do was moan and quiver feeling his hands on me.  It was like I had no control at all over my body.  Here I was naked with his hands on me, and I was helpless to his touch.

My head started to feel weird like it was buzzing, and I could feel my whole body rocking as I moaned even louder.  And then it happened.  I’m glad he put his hand over my mouth, because I screamed into it.  It was like waves of it passing over me, going on and on, and I could feel a gush of water leave my body.  I was shaking really bad and thought for a second I had peed, but then I didn’t think so.  And then I felt really ashamed again, especially when I could hear him chuckling in my ear.  I was a little stunned at what happened.  I was ashamed too, and I knew part of that was because what happened felt really good.  It was the most incredible thing I ever felt.

It had been loud in the tent up until then, but that had stopped.  I guess the show was over and the girls had gone back out to get more men interested in the next show.  It wasn’t exactly quiet.  Carnivals at night never are, but it seemed like it just then.  Here I was sitting in the grass under the hooch stage basically naked except my shorts and panties stuck on one shoe.  I was still shaking, and I could feel myself suddenly quiver again from what happened.  It was like another little thrill running through me, and then I quivered again.

He had let go of me, but I didn’t try and move or even look for my shirt.  I heard him fumbling, and then I heard a metal clinking.  I knew then he was undoing his belt and pants, and I knew that meant he wasn’t done with me.  I wanted to jump up and run, but I just sat there naked and started crying again.  I thought I was scared before, but I was now terrified hearing him open his pants and knowing what was inside.

September 02, 2017, 09:46:07 AM
Reply #13

Offline Jed

A Dirty Slut Yearning to Get Out

I expected him to push me down on the grass and get on top of me, but he didn’t.  He did make me turn towards him.  It was dark, but not so dark I couldn’t see it.  It was bigger than I thought it would be sticking out of his pants like that, and it was so scary close to my face like that.  I could smell his man smell really strong now.  I didn’t want to like smell, but I did.

His hands were in my hair pulling me even closer to it.  It was right in front of my face, and I whispered, “Are you going to take my virginity?”
“Only if I get impatient with how well you do this little bird.”
“This?” I whispered confused.
“You do know what a blow job is don’t you little bird?”
“Please, I don’t want to.”
“You’ll do it, and you better do it good, or I will take your virginity, right now here in the grass.”
“Please, no…..”
“There’s a dirty slut inside you yearning to get out.  Just this once, I’ll be satisfied with a decent blow job.”
“Please…”

I didn’t want him to rape me, but I didn’t want that thing in my mouth either.  I tried to turn away, but he got a grip on my hair and forced my face right to it pressing it against my lips and said, “Open up little bird.”

I shook my head ‘no’, but then he pinched my nose shut.  When I couldn’t breathe, my mouth popped open for air.  And then it was suddenly in my mouth stretching my lips open.  It tasted like he smelled and wasn’t as bad as I expected.  His hands were in my hair forcing it further in my mouth until I started to gag and tried to pull back.  He held it there and spoke, “I better not feel any teeth little bird, or I’ll punch your face until I knock all your teeth out, and then I’ll fuck you bloody.”

I was terrified, and nodded best I could with it in my mouth.  I pressed my lips tight around it not knowing what to do, but with a grip on my hair he began forcing my head up and down giving me instructions on how to suck on it.  He moved my hand to it too. and told me to grip it and move my hand just under my mouth, and squeeze it around the base when it moved out of my mouth.  When I gagged on it, he told me to relax.  Pretty soon my hand on it got slick from my drool and it slid better.  I could tell he liked that by how he breathed.  He had lay back in the grass, and I was moving my head mostly on my own now.

It was weird.  I felt disgusted by what he was making me do and humiliated too, but I was also proud he seemed to like it.  I never did it before, but maybe I wasn’t doing it so bad?  It didn’t make sense being worried about doing it good, when I didn’t want to do it at all.  I felt his hands in my hair tighten until I couldn’t move.  It was deep in my mouth, and I wondered if that was it, and he was done.

He moved us sideways with it still in my mouth.  I was still wondering if we were done when he started to move.  It was slow at first, and I heard him say, “You got a lot to learn, but you’re not awful for your first time.  Now, let’s see how you handle being face fucked.”

I had no clue what that meant, but then he started to move faster.  Almost immediately I was having trouble breathing, and I kept gagging from him pushing it too deep.  I forgot to keep using my hand, so he told me to.  I had sort of gotten less scared when I was mostly doing it myself, but now I was really scared again.  I was sure he was going to choke me to death.  I was squealing around it in my mouth, but he wouldn’t stop slamming his hips into my face and forcing it too deep in my mouth.

I seemed to be just hanging on for dear life while he humped my face.  He not only was breathing hard, he was grunting some now too.  I had stopped squealing and was just trying not to choke and pass out.  I could tell I was still sucking on it and squeezing it with my hand.  I guess I was hoping it would hurry him up, but it also seemed sort of the natural thing to do.

All of a sudden his whole body stiffened, and he groaned really loud.  I felt it twitch, and then there was this salty slimy gushing mess in my mouth.  It twitched a couple more times, and each time more of that mess spurted in my mouth.  I was trying to pull away to spit it out, but he wouldn’t let go of my head.  I was squealing again choking on the slimy mess, when I heard him tell me to swallow.  I didn’t want to, but I had to breath.  I swallowed, and then gagged at the thought of it.  I’m not sure how I didn’t throw up.  I had to swallow a couple more times before his hands relaxed a little, and I could breathe better.

I could feel it soften some, but he still wouldn’t let go of my head.  I just wanted his thing out of my mouth, and I wanted to go home.

September 02, 2017, 10:25:55 PM
Reply #14

Offline Plaything

Very nice Jed . . .I get back from vacation and you have a new story!   ;)

September 03, 2017, 03:03:57 PM
Reply #15

Offline vile8r

New work from Jed! Always a good thing to see!

September 04, 2017, 03:44:04 PM
Reply #16

Offline Emily

Do this girl, and the one in your story, a favour: please see this to it's conclusion! :)

September 05, 2017, 02:18:36 AM
Reply #17

Offline Jed

Thank you Plaything, vile and Emily.

I have this one pretty clear in my head all the way to the end, which is a long ways from cumming...um, coming.

I'm writing so fast I may need to look back and make typo corrections or minor edits once in a while.

September 05, 2017, 02:20:44 AM
Reply #18

Offline Jed

Please Just Let Me Go Home

“You want to go home don’t you little bird?”
He wouldn’t let go of my head, and it was still in my mouth, so I just nodded and managed, “Um huh.”
“You can go home under one condition.”
I was dreading what that might be and waited until he said, “You have to cum for me again with my cock still in your mouth little bird.”

I heard myself let out a choking sob, and I felt so ashamed.  He reached under me with both hands and began playing with both my breasts.  I started to try and push his thing out of my mouth, but his hands were immediately back in my hair pulling it and hurting me.  He smacked me really hard on top of my head and said really mean, “I said keep my cock in your mouth.”

He went back to playing with my breasts and pulling on my nipples.  I couldn’t help it and began squirming like before pressing them against his hands.  It was hard to control myself, and it was hard to keep his thing in my mouth, I was moving around so much.  It was like he was playing me like a musical instrument; touching me a certain way, and I’d move; touch me again, and I moved again.

While his fingers were pulling on one of my nipples, I could feel his other hand sliding down my back.  He squeezed my butt, and then tickled down my crack to my special place again.  I could feel his fingers teasing, and I could feel my face turn really red and my body move.  I knew with shame he could feel I was wet for him again.

He rubbed my button again, and I could hear myself moan around his thing.  I knew I was really wet, and I could feel him spread some of my wetness along my butt crack.  He seemed to circle my butt hole with his finger getting it wet, and then his finger was back down in my folds and touching my button.  He seemed to stop moving his finger for a second, and then he did something I wasn’t prepared for.

I yelled around his thing almost losing it in my mouth.  He had pushed what must have been his thumb in my butt.  I tried to clench down on it and push it out, but he worked it in even deeper and whispered, “Relax.”

His finger began moving again, and I moaned and could feel myself relax on his thumb and him push it in as far as it would go.  His finger was moving slowly in my folds just barely touching my button.  I could feel myself moving in rhythm to his finger.  It was then I realized I had started sucking on his thing again.  It made no sense.  I wanted it out of my mouth, and now I was sucking on it again also in rhythm to his finger.  I could feel it growing and stiffening in my mouth, and he said, “That’s it little bird, show me what a dirty slut you are.”

I was so ashamed, but that wasn’t all.  I knew I was incredibly aroused.  It was all too much, and all of it was really turning me on.  Especially his hands on my body and his finger rubbing me down there, but even his thumb moving in my butt, his thing now hard again in my mouth and even his words calling me a dirty slut all had me on fire.  It was then I shook and did it again.

It was another orgasm, but it wasn’t as intense as the one earlier.  I wanted another one like that and briefly felt disappointed.  Briefly, because almost immediately I could tell I wasn’t done.  His finger was still driving me crazy.  Him calling me a dirty slut was ringing in my head, and right then I wanted to be his dirty slut.

I began moving my head even faster sucking on him as strongly as I could.  I wanted to please him, and I wanted to cum again like he said.  I knew it was wrong, and I was still really ashamed.  I didn’t care right then, and the shame only made me more turned on.  I was hungrily working him into my mouth and pushing my crotch onto his hand.  I could feel my head swimming and it was building again.  I knew it was going to be intense again, and I yearned for it.  It erupted in me, and as soon as my mouth opened wide to try and scream, he did it again too.  My scream turned into a gurgle as his stuff splashed against my throat.

I choked on it, and then just swallowed by instinct.  I could feel the waves of my orgasm pass over me, and I sucked again on him like I was trying to get the last drops.  And then I sort of went limp, and I heard myself giggle.  It was still in my mouth, but I giggled around it and then got quiet.

This time he instead of making me keep it in my mouth, he pushed me away like he was discarding trash.  I heard him fastening his pants, and then because he was too tall to leave any other way, he crawled to the tent.  Just before he ducked under the tent flap, he looked back and said, “You can go home now little bird.”

And, then he was gone.  I don’t know how long I sat there in the grass in a daze.  It had gotten darker, and it was really hard to see.  It also was mostly quiet.  The noises on the stage and in the tent had stopped, so the last show must have ended.  I had got to the point where I didn’t hear that any more, but I was now noticing the quiet.  At some point, I felt around finding my shorts and then my panties.  I had one shoe still on, and then found the other one.  It took longer to find my shirt.  I would have left without it, but there were still people around to see me.

I walked home crying.  All that was left was the shame.  I could remember the pleasure and giggling, but now that just seemed weird and wrong.  I could not stop thinking about how when he was done with me, he just pushed me away and left.  I felt the worst I ever did in my life.  It was far worse than when daddy left.

September 05, 2017, 01:23:31 PM
Reply #19

Offline Emily

Another lovely chapter, yay! Sucks that he didn't finish what he started but somehow, I feel like things ain't over for our little heroine!