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From: "David Altaire" <david_altaire@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Using Stacy {David Altaire} (Mf, M+m+f, exhib, slut, preg?, incest)
Date: Sat, 12 Jul 2003 11:10:05 -0400
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First things first -- I'm a posting virgin to ASSM, so please
forgive me if I screwed anything up with this attempt. Or better
yet, drop me an email and let me know, so I don't do it again.
For what it's worth, yes, I did read the FAQs.
This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts, so if
you cannot legally read this, don't get caught. While the story
itself is fictional, the persons described within it are real
(names have been changed to further muddle things). The party
did happen, the people described were there, but I made up the
sex stuff. On the off chance that I guessed wrong as to how to
get the codes on the subject line (I'm submitting via email),
this tale depicts consensual sex between an adult male and a
teenaged girl, as well as group sex with the same teenaged girl.
There's also a hint of incest and a dash of possible pregancy.
And a pinch or oregano.
Feedback of any type is greatly appreciated. Suggestions,
comments, or criticisms (constructive or otherwise) can be sent
to David_Altaire@hotmail.com. Now why are you still reading the
header?
_________________________________________________________________
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<1st attachment, "Using Stacy (Mf, M+m+f, exh, slut, preg,
incest).txt" begin>
It was the summer of 1991, and I was back at home in suburban
Maryland with my parents, winding down after having survived the
rigors of my freshman year of college. Eighteen years old, no
responsibilities, and more freedom than I knew what to do with.
Oughta be the time of my life, right?
Okay, for the most part it was, although of course I didn't
realize it then. Why not, you ask? Ever lived in suburban
Maryland? That's a rhetorical question -- if you have to ask,
you've never lived there. Oh, it's a nice area, really just a
string of suburbs starting near the Pennsylvania border to the
north and flowing southward through Baltimore, down Washington,
D.C., and the Virginia border. Lots of nice middle class
neighborhoods, ample shopping and restaurants, major sports teams
in Baltimore and D.C., and even the beach just a few hours away
in Ocean City, MD. That's not the problem.
The problem is, if you're over the age of 16 and under the age
of 21, there isn't jack to do, or at least there wasn't back in
the early 90's. Once you've done the day trips to the Inner
Harbor in Baltimore, the Smithsonian down in D.C., and maybe a
jaunt or two down to the bay in Annapolis, you're pretty much
stuck with either hanging out at the mall, going to the movies,
or waiting around for someone's parents to leave town so there'd
be a house party. All ages clubs? Hell no, and even when one of
the bars did condescend to allow the under 21 demographic through
the doors for a concert or something, you went there knowing that
it would end up with one or more huge brawls and a heavy police
presence. Besides, day trips and all ages concerts required
money, and you can only make so much with a part time job for
minimum wage.
So when it all came down to it, all there really was to do was
hang out and get drunk, and we did that, a lot. Whether it was
at someone's house when their parents were out of town, hanging
out with one of my few friends who had their own apartment, or
just standing around in a parking lot or an open field and
kicking back brews, that's what we did; every weekend during the
school year and damn near every night in the summer. Get drunk
and get laid -- that was the credo.
On this particular night, a friend that we'll call Dave L. was
having a party. That's not to be confused with this Dave, the
one who is writing this story; different Dave all together.
While yours truly shacked up in a small townhouse with my folks,
Dave L's parents had a moderately sized house in one of the nicer
neighborhoods, complete with swimming pool in the back yard.
They were a Neilsen family, honest -- that's the kind of folks
we're talking about.
Now, I was a bit of a dick back in those days. It wasn't that
I really disliked other people in general or girls in particular;
quite the contrary. But as my high school career ground to an
end, I finally figured out that nice guys didn't get any pussy in
the teenage years, and I used that knowledge to my advantage, and
often. If you wanted to get into the pants of some rich little
high school bitch, the best way to do it was to treat her like
shit. So that was me.
Dave L. was just a dick, period. Oh, not to me or the other
guys. He was a true blue friend where other guys were concerned.
But the boy absolutely hated women; why, I never did find out.
Sure, I'd walk up to a girl and tell her that the shirt she was
wearing really flattered her tits (verbatum); Dave L. would walk
up to her and tell her to get her fat ass off his couch. If she
took that as a come-on, he'd tell her flat out that he meant it.
He might fuck her later on if he felt like it, but he'd berate
her to her face the next day. You know how if you call a chick a
slut in a certain way it'll get her going? Dave L. didn't even
try for that "special way"; he'd flat out call her a slut and
mean it as an insult.
Anyway, the reason I'm telling you all of this is because it's
important to understand Dave L.'s personality, because it
explains why his parties were usually pretty lame, despite the
swimming pool and the abundance of space in and around the house.
In a word, chicks didn't show up, unless they were among the few
girls that hung out with us regularly and tolerated Dave L.
because of that. So when I found out that he was throwing a bash
that summer, I went, but I wasn't expecting much. Sure enough, I
arrived at his place around 9 PM, toting along a buddy of mine in
the old Dodge Omni (ever try fucking in one of those? Don't.),
and saw the same familiar cars parked in the driveway and along
his curb. But there wasn't anything else going on that night and
I had a case of beer that I'd scored, so in I went.
I threw the beer into an icebox and wandered around back to the
pool, doing the standard hello sort of stuff, then moved inside
the house to seek out Dave himself. The other Dave, I mean, not
some sort of vision quest. And lo and behold, there was new
blood at the party after all!
Two high school boys in standard 80's/early 90's skater garb
were standing around in the kitchen, and in the living room sat a
true vision, and one I quickly recognized. I didn't know her
name, but I'd seen her around the halls in my old high school the
year before, and I'd have recognized those legs anywhere. She'd
been a freshman during my senior year, and since we hung with
different crowds and had no classes together I'd never had the
chance to actually meet her. But I used to pass her on one of
the stairwells between 2nd and 3rd period; something I looked
forward to every day.
She was tall, at least 5'9", and looked the part of the typical
80's hair band groupie. Her long, light brown hair fell off of
her shoulders and midway down her back, straight and flat without
the typical height of the era, although she did wear the heavily
styled bangs over her forehead (is it just me, or does anyone
else miss those?). She was lean, like bordering on runway model
skinny, with rather smallish breasts that might have been big
enough to hold up a B-cup bra. A very pretty face, with high
cheekbones, a fairly pronounced chin, and absolutely flawless
skin, at least from what I could see through the heavy maekup.
Always wore the same big hoop earrings, golden colored although I
wouldn't go so far as to assume they were real gold.
But her legs were easily her best feature, and to this day
remain one of the nicest sets of gams I've ever laid eyes (or
anything else) on. She had this one outfit that she'd wear to
school every so often; a frilly A-line skirt that stopped a
couple inches above her knees, flaring out past shoulder width at
the hemline. She'd wear that with a tight button-up blouse,
black fishnet pantyhose, and these little ankle boots with about
a 2 inch stiletto heel. Those were the days I wanted to just
grab her and bend her over right there in the high school
stairwell: nail her like the slut I knew she was and then leave
her for the rest of the school when I'd finished.
She'd apparently changed gears slightly in the year since I'd
last seen her, decked out on that night in typical 80's punk
style. She wore a long black t-shirt with some band or another's
logo on the front, tight black denim shorts, and the same black
fishnet hose covering those same gorgeous legs, her feet tucked
neatly into a pair of black doc martens. Other than the wardrobe
change, though, she still looked the same -- from her long hair
parted down the middle to the pronounced bangs hanging to her
eyebrows, to the same cheap hoop earrings fastened to her lobes.
The girl was sunk into the couch, Dave L. on one side of her
and Andy on the other, apparently already several drinks into her
night. I pulled up a footstool and said my hellos to my two
buddies, introducing myself to the vision of headbanger fantasies
turned sk8r girl. I wish I could remember the whole conversation
because I'm sure it would be entertaining, if only in a "how lame
was I back then?" sort of way, but the years have erased most of
it. I do remember finding out that her name was Stacy, and that
she was 15 (about to turn 16) and going into her junior year of
high school that fall. I also recall that I played up my college
exploits, particularly the fact that I deejayed on the college
radio station, as well as that I owned my own car. Hey, it was
easy to impress chicks back in high school -- you remember.
Dave L. eventually ran off to talk down at some other girl and
Andy scampered back to the pool, the two skater kids that she'd
apparently come to the party with peeking in from time to time
but mainly sticking to the kitchen and nursing beer after beer.
Oh, sure, other people wandered in for a minute here or there,
but mainly the rest of the guys and the 2 or 3 other girls just
left us alone while I worked on sealing the deal.
I had of course repositioned myself on the couch in the dimly
lit living area, talking it up and steadily resupplying our
drinks. I remember that she mentioned some band that she was
into at the time and that I fed her some bullshit about how I'd
met them through my work at the radio station (hey, I went to
school in Pennsylvania and she was never going to find out that
the station I worked on only had a carrier current signal). That
impressed her as intended, and the conversation got a lot
friendlier as our postures on the overstuffed sofa got a lot
closer.
Things started to get interesting when I finally commented on
how much I loved her legs, reaching over to run my fingers across
the fishnet hose between her knee and the firm thigh below the
bottom of her shorts. She made no move to stop me, just leaned
back and thanked me, so I went for it, wrapping my hand around
her thigh and squeezing it, rubbing back and forth and gradually
creeping higher, over the barely-visible leg of her shorts and up
to cup her cunt through the denim. Stacy merely closed her eyes
and rested her head on the back of the couch cushion, uncrossing
her gazelle-like legs and spreading them slightly to allow me
easier access.
By this time, it was well past 11 o'clock, and the party was
winding down. The boys that I guessed had brought her there (I
never did find out for sure) had to take off to beat curfew, but
I promised her a ride home whenever she was ready to go, so she
hung out. Most everyone else had left, too -- there were just
the two of us, Dave L. of course, and 9 other friends of mine,
although Cassie (the only other girl still there) had disappeared
into a bedroom with Mark some time ago. Cassie was a little slut
herself, but that's a whole different story. A series of them,
actually.
So about then I started playing with the button on her shorts,
popping it open with one hand and leaning into her to kiss her
neck. We were alone in the living room at that point, although
the sounds of the other guys by the pool out back were still
quite loud, and the ocassional person would still poke their head
into the room when they popped into the kitchen for a fresh beer.
She started moaning something about finding a bedroom, but I
made up some shit about Dave's room being taken already, and his
parents' bedroom being off limits. There was only one bathroom
in the house, so that was out of the question, and well, I've
already covered the logistical nightmare that was trying to screw
in my subcompact. Besides, I knew a slut when I saw one, and I
didn't want to sneak her off to some private space anyway.
It took a lot of soothing and touching, but I eventually got
her to lift her hips up so I could slide her shorts over her ass
and down her legs, the two of us nearly having to rip them apart
to get them over her docs. Hell, the whole thing would've been a
lot easier if we'd just taken the boots off, but for some reason
I was in the mood to fuck a girl in combat boots that night, so I
told her to leave them on. I kept rubbing away at her cunt,
feeling the moisture already soaking into the gusset of her black
bikini panties, the tight holes of the fishnet pantyhose forming
little dams as I pushed her juices around with my fingers. She
said something about someone walking in and seeing us, and I just
told her that would almost certainly happen and went back to
rubbing her twat and kissing on her neck. Hell, she wanted to
show everyone what a little whore she was, and we both knew it.
About that time, my friend Evan did walk into the room, sitting
down on an easy chair and saying something about us needing to
head out to the pool before his eyes adjusted enough to the
darkness that he could make out the fact that she wasn't wearing
her shorts anymore. She'd pushed me off of her neck when we
heard him walk in and clamped her legs back together, but my hand
was still pressed between her tight young thighs, my fingers
still flexing against her juicing gash. Evan stammered some
apology and left as soon as he saw what was going on, but that
didn't bother me -- I knew he'd just go out to the pool and let
everyone else know what I was doing with the 15 year-old slut.
Stacy asked me if I thought he could see what we were doing,
and I answered with a "hell yes", pointing out that he'd left
pretty suddenly after he sat down. She just muttered an "oh",
but relaxed and reparted her legs at the same time. I could feel
even more wetness between those gorgeous limbs, too; I knew it!
I heard someone yell "no way!" from out back and held in a
chuckle as I had my confirmation that Evan had indeed passed on
the info. I couldn't tell if she'd heard it or not, or if she'd
connected it to our discovery even if she had, but her hips were
rocking steadily against my hand now, so I moved it upwards,
sliding it under the twin bands of her pantyhose and panties. It
felt like a steam bath inside her drawers as I ran my fingers
through her bush and down over her lips, pushing a finger inside
of her as the little cunt pushed her ass up to meet my hand. She
was letting out these little pants and moans now, and I could
tell between that and her hip gyrations that she was close to
cumming, so I pulled my hand back out of her puss and hooked my
thumbs around the waistband of her hose and underwear.
"Lift your hips," I told her, and she hesitated, saying
something about someone else coming into the room again. "Yeah,
I'm sure they will," I said flatly, still tugging at her
stockings. "Would it really bother you if they saw me fingering
your twat?"
Okay, time out for a second. I'm not positive if those are the
exact same words that I said back then or not, but that was the
message that I got across, and the one that I intended. Like I
said, I could read a slut from a mile away, and she was giving
off enough signs that a blind virgin would've picked up on her at
that point. I'd stopped her just short of an orgasm, and I knew
she wanted people to see her anyway; she just felt like she had
to make some kind of an effort to protect her modesty or some
crap. None of this would work with a woman past her late teens,
of course, but with a 15 year-old, drunk and in heat? This was
money. Alright, game on.
Her eyes kinda opened a bit wider when I asked her that, but
she slowly shook her head no a second later and lifted up her
hips. I dragged her hose and panties down as one, leaving them
wrapped around her calves just above the boots and looking down
at her cunt. She had a decent-sized tuft of hair, a slightly
darker shade of brown than that on her head, but it was obvious
that she either trimmed it or else was one of the fortunate few
whose pubes only grew in a neat patch above her pussy. The light
was too dim to really see the details of her slit, but I figured
I could take care of that later. Move too fast and the girl
might actually decide that she wasn't that big a slut after all.
I spread her knees as far apart as we could get them with the
pantyhose still wrapped around her lower legs, and went back to
fingering her juicy little hole. She was tight, but not nearly
the tightest I'd ever felt, and certainly not a virgin. Anyway,
she was bucking her hips again and letting out little gasps every
second or two while I stuffed my finger into her, and the little
bitch was absolutely soaked by then. I was building her up
slowly again, and as it turned out, my timing was just about
perfect. Just as she lifted her ass off the cushions and
prepared to let loose, Dave L. walked straight into the room and
plopped down on the easy chair, saying that he'd heard I was
getting some action in here.
Fuckin' Stacy didn't know what to do at that point. I was
still pushing my finger in and out of her and holding her legs
open with my own knee over one of hers, and I was rubbing around
her clit with my thumb now, too. The little whore knew she was
about to cum while I talked to my buddy about how hot she was,
and she didn't fucking care if Dave knelt down between her legs
and stared from an inch away right then. I remember I said
something to him about how much I was looking forward to fucking
the slut (those were the exact words), and that's when she came
-- classic!
She was trying to keep quiet and hold still, but I knew what
was going on and she wasn't doing too good a job of hiding it,
anyway. But I didn't want her thinking even for a second that
she was fooling our onlooker, so I just asked her, flat-out: "Are
you cumming?"
I had to ask two more times before she finally choked out a
loud "Yes!", her voice cracking as she said it. She was coming
down at that point anyway, so I slid a second finger into her
gash and kept right on fucking her, turning my attention back to
Dave. "What's everyone doing?", I asked.
He said there were just jacking off out by the pool (no, not
literally), so I told him that he should bring them in to check
Stacy out. I turned back to Stacy and asked her softly, "Do you
want them all to see you getting fucked?"
The little whore didn't even try to hold out this time, she
just gasped out another "yes!" while she bucked her cunt up onto
my hand. Dave excused himself to get the rest of the guys, and I
yelled out at him to turn the lights on on his way back in.
Stacy just spread her legs apart further, like the little tramp
we all knew she was.
I turned up the heat while he was rounding the party up,
pulling my hand out of her fuckhole long enough to tug her
t-shirt over her head. I was even nice about it, being careful
not to snag those big hoop earrings. "Gotta let them see your
titties too, right?", I asked her, and she just lifted her arms
to assist me. I had just unhooked her bra and pulled it off of
her body, freeing up the prettiest little pink nipples you've
ever seen, when I heard Vince yelling "Here we cooooome!" as they
trooped heavily through the kitchen.
"You ready for this?", I breathed into her ear, and she just
moaned as Evan rounded the corner, followed quickly by the other
5 guys. True to his word, Dave flicked on the lightswitch as he
walked in, everyone pulling up whatever seats they could find and
staring at the little cunt lying there with her legs wide open,
naked save for her doc martens and the pantyhose scrunched up
around her shins. I went back to fingering her, pulling her lips
open a little as I did it so I could see her twat a little better
myself. And let me tell you, I've seen some dark pinks in my
days, but she was fucking *red* down there, her pubes all slicked
around in her cum. "You like acting like a slut, don't you?", I
asked, loudly enough to draw some snickers from the other guys.
She nodded her head, her eyes darting around nervously from
person to person, blushing profusely. But that wasn't good enough
for me. "Say it."
She looked up at me with her mouth hanging open, just as I
jammed a third finger all the way into her twat, the little bitch
yelping at the sudden entry. "Say it," I repeated to her.
"I....like it," she whispered, so softly that I could barely
even hear her.
"Say it louder," I corrected, really giving it to her cunt.
"I.....like....acting....like a......slut," she panted louder,
drawing a chorus of "yeah"s and "all right"s from around us, but
I don't think she heard them. The little bitch was cumming again
at the time -- can I pick 'em or what?
I waited for her to come down before I said anything else,
flashing little grins at the other gawking and shouting guys.
"How many guys have you fucked, Stacy?", I asked.
She blinked a couple of times, looking up at me like she
couldn't believe I'd asked that, but she didn't try to get out of
it. "Five," she stammered.
"How'd you like to double that number tonight?", I smirked at
her, getting a rousing cheer of approval from the others. Okay,
so the 7 of us would more than double the number, but that didn't
sound as good at the time, and besides, I figured the bitch could
count. Her eyes flew open at that, but I just went back to
fingering her and rubbing her clit, drawing out a moan and
closing her peepers again.
"I'll fuck you," I told her, "but it just wouldn't be right to
get all these other guys all worked up and leave them with no
relief." I took her hand and placed it on my erection, through
my own shorts. "If you want this, you'll have to do them
afterwards."
The peanut gallery quieted down at that point, seeing that she
might actually agree to this. They were all good guys, friends
of mine, but I knew that some of them didn't get all that much
pussy, so this would be a banner night for them. Besides, aside
from all of us fucking Cassie at one point or another, we'd never
shared a girl like this, certainly not all at once. And that
Stacy was a little hottie.
She was rolling her hips around again while I fingered her
hole, her hand squeezing me through my clothes. I put the
question to her again.
"Okay," she finally groaned, and you'd have thought we'd just
won a war by the way everyone was cheering and swapping high
fives. I helped her stand up and told her to take my cock out,
which she did with trembling hands. I lifted my own hips to help
her slide my shorts and drawers down my legs and kicked them off,
turning her around to face the crowd again before I eased her
back onto my lap. I knew I wasn't hung like John Holmes, and
probably at least one or two of these guys was bigger than me (I
found out later that I was correct), but fuck it -- I was getting
the slut first. I kept my legs together, forcing her to perch
her feet on my knees with her own knees splayed as wide as
possible, but it just wasn't working. The pantyhose still
bunched up around the tops of her boots was blocking everyone's
view, and I wanted her legs spread so they could all see her
fuckhole swallowing my shaft. Then I had an idea.
"Got a pair of scissors?", I asked Dave, and he nodded and went
to fetch them. "Stand up again," I told Stacey, pushing on her
asscheeks to help her into a standing position. "Now take off
your boots and shit." To her credit, the little cunt didn't even
hesitate at this point, plopping her naked ass back down on the
couch next to me and unlacing her boots, kicking them off a
minute later and quickly pushing her hose and panties off as
well.
I took the proferred shears from Dave and picked up her
fishnets, quickly cutting away the crotch area nearly from
waistband to waistband. "Put these back on," I told her as I
handed her newly crotchless pantyhose back to her. Once again,
she didn't pause, just got to work doing what I said. I love it
when a chick does that.
When she was back in her properly slutty garb, I once again
positioned her on my lap, facing the guys with her legs spread
wide and feet perched on my knees, her naked twat staring them in
the eyes. It was an awkward position, but I managed to get my
dick into her gash and started her rocking up and down, telling
her to make sure she kept her legs spread so everyone could see
the juicy cunt they were going to fuck. She really dug that.
I reached over her thighs to tickle her clit while she bucked
on my rod, nearly busting my nut when she came again a few
minutes later. She didn't even attempt to hide that one from her
audience.
That got me thinking....I wasn't wearing a rubber; the fucking
things desensitized me so much that I literally couldn't get off.
Okay, I know that nowadays you wear a rubber for a lot of
reasons when you're porking some slut at a party, but if you were
18 in 1991, you didn't worry about diseases or stuff like that.
"Are you on the pill?", I growled into her ear while she flopped
around on my joystick.
She panted out her answer softly: "No."
Fuck that. "I'm going to shoot inside you anyway," I told her,
keeping this conversation at least among the two of us.
"No.....I can't get pregnant!", she said, but she didn't even
slow down bouncing around on me.
"Tough shit," I told her. But like I said, I'm not a total
asshole like Dave L.; I wasn't even back then. "You really want
me to pull out?"
She kept bucking on me, I kept twiddling her lovebutton, and a
few seconds later she gasped out a "No!"
Yeah, I figured. The little bitch probably really didn't want
to get knocked up, but she couldn't help herself right then and
there. She was in slut-mode, and a good slut doesn't ask anyone
not to shoot into her womb. I was almost disappointed; I had
intended to offer to shoot in her ass if she didn't want to risk
it.
"When was the last time you ragged?", I asked her.
Stacy still didn't miss a beat, even while she thought about
it. "A wee--....week and a half ago," she finally said between
gasps.
Oh, perfect! "You know that means you're ovulating?"
"I....dunno."
I leaned right up to her ear, barely even whispering the words.
"It does. This is the most likely time of your cycle that you
could get knocked up. And I'm gonna cum inside your slutty
little twat."
And, it figured -- the cunt came again.
I was ready to shoot myself, but I knew it was going to be a
long time before I could get her again, once the other guys had
had their turns, so I was working hard to hold it back. Besides,
it was a guy thing -- I wanted to show up the rest of the gang by
banging her for a good, long time.
"You really do have great legs," I told her, taking the
opportunity to run a hand across the fishnet covering on her gam.
And then I said something really weird, and I'm still not sure
why I said it, but fuck -- you'll see.
"I bet lots of guys would love to be between your legs, not
just all of us. I bet lots of guys whack off thinking about
them." Well, I knew one who had, at least -- like I said, I
loved her in that skirt.
She was grunting now, slamming herself down on me, obviously
loving this shit. The other guys were still making comments
about her, and Vince yelled something about hurrying up so he
could get a piece. She seemed to love that, too.
Now this is where the weird part comes in, and I really can't
explain why I even thought it, let alone voiced it. "I bet your
daddy beats off thinking about those legs." Oh, and I wasn't
whispering anymore, either.
"Yessssssssssss," she moaned out, shuddering deeply.
Hmmmmm? "He does?"
"Yesssss"
"How do you know?"
She slowed down her ride, drawing her breath together to utter
more than one syllable at a time. "Sometimes.....when
he.....thinks....I'm asleep," she said, and I almost laughed when
her voice jumped a register at the ending "-eep", "he....comes
into......my room, and...." She stopped there, so I told her to
keep going.
"He starts.....stroking it.....while he looks at me," she
finally said, shuddering as she came again. Fuck! I knew she was
a little slut and probably trailer trash (we do have trailer
parks in Maryland), but I'd have never guessed that one!
"You ever tell anyone that?", I asked her.
"No," she panted, resuming her up and down motion as her latest
cum passed.
"You just told 7 people," I chuckled in her ear, and I swear if
it was possible, she turned an even deeper shade of red at that.
"You want your daddy's cock, don't you?"
"No!" She practically shouted the word, but the way her body
shuddered when I asked it gave away her true answer.
"I bet you do. You sneak little peeks when he's beating it and
looking at you, don't you?" This was a trip!
"No." This one was much quieter, without anything in the way
of conviction.
"You get all wet and juicy when you see it, right? Rubbing
your thighs together just a little, so he won't be able to see
it." She was shaking her head the whole time I said this, but
she didn't try to refute me verbally. And she was really
slamming onto my dick, too. "You wait until he's done, after he
shot a huge load looking at his little girl's body, and then you
rub yourself, don't you? You make yourself cum, wishing he would
touch you."
She sobbed loudly, ramming herself down hard on my lap. A few
seconds later, her answer came as a whisper: "Yes."
The fucking slut wanted to nail her own father! The old perv
that choked his chicken staring at his little girl in her bed
clothes!! Too much! "You think about him climbing onto the bed,
sliding his dick inside your tight little cunt."
"Yes." I could barely hear her, but there was no mistaking the
word, nor the reaction of her body, still bouncing up and down on
my rod. I was close, and I didn't think I could hold it off any
more.
"Say it. Say you want your daddy's cock, you slut."
She opened her lips to speak, stopped herself. My balls were
retracting. She did it again, and once more, and finally blurted
it out, loud enough to carry over the chants and cheers coming
from the cheap seats. "I.....want.......my daddy's......cock."
That was it. I grabbed onto her tiny waist, holding her hips
down as I bucked up underneath her, pouring my seed into her
unprotected and fertile womb. It seemed like I shot a gallon
into her, hard; like my whole body was being sucked out through
my dick, spewing into her 15 year-old baby factory. I think she
came again while I was shooting, but fucked if I know for sure.
Right then the Loch Ness Monster could've ambled through the room
and I wouldn't have noticed.
When I finally came back to Earth again, she was just sitting
there on my lap, panting her damn fool head off, her feet still
propped up on me and her legs wide open, my shaft buried inside
her tight little snatch. I gave her a little slap on the rump to
urge her up, and felt a small river accompany my meat when it
slipped out of her as she complied. I helped her lay across her
back on the couch.
"You have any preference on who goes next?" See what a
gentleman I was?
She shook her head slowly, the way a person does when they're
scared to death of doing something but at the same time they
can't imagine wanting to get out of it. I just shrugged and
turned my head towards the guys. "I guess y'all get to decide,
then."
I wish I could give you a complete play by play of the entire
night, but once I was done nailing her that first time it all
kind of blends together. I do remember that every single one of
us fucked her at least twice, some of us went in for thirds or
even fourths. That little slut was a trooper, I'll give her that
-- she took it all and kept bucking for more, and that twat of
hers never once dried up. Then again, looking at it in
hindsight, after the first 10 or so fucks, I guess we'd deposited
enough juice in her to keep her lubed anyway. But she never did
ask us to stop, never tried to push anyone away.
I guess I should stress that -- we never forced the girl to do
anything. I guess I laid some pressure on her, but I never
threatened her, never pushed too hard. Even the times when she
said no to my questions, the way that she was slinging her puss
all over me made it pretty damn clear what she really meant. It's
a fine line, I guess, and I'll readily admit that I was an
asshole back then when it came to chicks, but I wasn't a Goddamn
rapist; all she had to do at any point was forcibly say no, or
put up some kind of a physical struggle, and I would've called a
halt to it right then and there. Don't think any of my friends
would've resisted under those circumstances, either. Okay,
enough preaching.
Anyway, we all took our turns with Stacy, and every one of us
shot at least one load into her dripping vagina. Not everyone
did it each time, though, and by the time we finally got some
rest in the wee hours of the morning, she was practially covered
in cum. One bit I remember like it was yesterday was when the
guys were still all working on their first time around, and
someone was fucking her doggy style on the floor (Vince, I
think). Anyway, my buddy Aaron suddenly gets this "oh shit!"
look on his face, rips his dick out of his pants, and practically
leaps over to where they're going at it on the carpet. He barely
even got it out of his pants before he blew a huge load all over
the back of her head; she had these huge cum clots in her hair
for the rest of the night. And of course we didn't let her clean
up, but then again, she only asked once, and she didn't push when
we said no.
Me, Evan, and Andy eventually gathered up what remained of her
clothes and drove her home at around 7 AM the next morning. Her
shirt, bra, and panties had disappeared some time during the
night, and her fishnet pantyhose were so shredded it wasn't even
worth the effort for her to leave them on. So we had to drive
her across the county and back to her daddy's house with the
bitch wearing nothing but her shorts and her doc martens (some
things are sacred; nobody's going to steal a girl's pair of
docs). Of course she asked Dave L. if she could borrow one of
his shirts, and of course Dave being Dave, he told her to fuck
off.
The ride home was actually pretty funny on it's own. I drove
my Omni, and Evan somehow talked Stacy into making the ride on
his lap in the passenger seat. Of course it only took about 3
minutes before he had her shorts back down around her ankles, and
she rode his prick for most of the ride home before he pumped
another load into her twat. It was still butt early when we
pulled up at her house (it turned out not to be a trailer, but it
might as well have been -- some little shack, complete with
laundry line hung in the yard), so we had her give me and Andy
one last blowjob while she knelt on the gravel in front of her
house. We were at least nice enough to let her use the car as
shelter from the roadway while she did it.
Anyway, the two of us blew a couple of fresh loads all over her
face, figuring her daddy would love seeing that, then piled back
into the car and took off. The last we saw of her she was
standing on the side of the road as a couple of cars shot by,
frantically pulling up her shorts before she tried to get back
into the house without further exposure. It was a trip and a
half -- in addition to the fresh gism me and Andy laid all over
her pretty little face, she had dried cum all over her; in huge
clumps in her hair, stuck all over her face, neck and tits; and
running all down the insides of her legs. Someone (I never found
out who) had even taken the time to write "CUM SLUT" in 1 inch
tall letters across her stomach, with a black permanent marker no
less.
I never saw Stacy again after that day, so I don't know if she
really did get knocked up or not, nor whether or not her father
saw the state she was in when we dropped her off. Better yet,
whether that was the impetus which finally led to her getting her
little fantasy from him. I've grown and changed a lot since that
party, and I will admit that there are times when I feel a little
bit guilty about using the girl the way we did.
But then I think about it further, and I think to myself, why
should I? None of us forced her to do shit, like I said -- she
wanted all of that. Whether she was fucked up because of what
her father did, because of some totally unrelated shit, or maybe
she just had a chemical imbalance, the fact remains that she
loved every minute of that night. The girl must've come 30
times, and she sure didn't make any effort to dissuade us from
any of the things we did during the ride home. For whatever the
reason, she wanted to be used like a cheap little slut, and she
got what she wanted. We wanted some pussy, and we got what we
wanted, too. I'd never do anything like that again now, but when
you're 18 and getting laid is a huge status symbol....well, you
do things that you wouldn't do once you actually do grow up.
Besides, if we hadn't gang-banged her and dumped her off
half-naked in front of her house, someone else would've
eventually. She'd have seen to that. Maybe they would've been
sick sons of bitches, too, and been into pain or some shit.
Okay, hell...maybe that happened anyway. It's a tricky world
sometimes. What I do know is, if a chick wants to be a slut,
she's gonna be a slut. If a guy wants to be an asshole, he's
gonna be an asshole. And if you think that you're gonna change
one or the other....well, you'll learn sooner or later. <1st
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