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"Competition builds the excitement-A university student tries to cure her acute fear of dogs"

Another year, another Wimbledon, another semi-final … another match point. Tina had heard it said that history repeats itself, but this was surely pushing it. How could she have been so stupid…? She knew exactly how, of course. Ever since that fateful day this time last year, women’s tennis had changed beyond recognition. The photos in the next day’s papers had won her immediate condemnation from a bunch of people she did not care about, while also earning immediate super-celebrity status as one of the world’s leading sex symbols. The fact that she had ended up losing the match made no difference at all. The job offers came rolling in, though she politely declined all requests that she pose nude for men’s magazines, and her bank balance grew and grew…This fact was not lost on her fellow tennis starlets. At last year’s US Open, a succession of tiny microskirts made their way out on to the courts, and soon Tina found herself facing stiff competition. One girl, in particular, seemed to have hardly any inhibitions at all – her name was Laura Lessing and she had won the hearts and loins of millions of male admirers across the globe. She had first made news by wearing bright red French-cut panties under her short skirt, and though she received reprimands from numerous umpires she continued to wear similar underwear in tournament after tournament. Her skirts were generally not excessively minuscule, but they were made of such a light material that they flew up around her waist at the slightest breeze, and she was not quick to cover her modesty. She obviously adored the limelight.As did Tina, who found herself driven to further exhibitionistic acts on the court just so she could keep herself in the media spotlight. In the French Open, she had worn a skirt that only barely covered her buttocks, with lacy panties beneath. The skirt was made of a stiff material that would neither fly up nor ride up, but whenever she bent over she knew she was showing her panties to the crowds and the cameras.Her fan sites doubled in number, then trebled. Fan mail poured in, as did the contracts, and she carefully ignored the vicious backlash from conservative groups. The people she had intended to thrill were thrilled.For this year’s Wimbledon, she had prepared well. The stretchy skirt idea had been a good one, but it had been flawed. Now, however, she had ironed out the problems. A skirt had been designed and made for her specially – one that would ride up as she moved, but not too quickly. Unlike her night-club skirt of the previous year, this one would not end up around her waist. Indeed, even after the longest, most vigorous points, it would uncover no more than a centimetre of the lower curves of her buttocks. Thus she could be sexy, but safe in the knowledge that she was in control.The dress code for this Wimbledon had been re-written. With new money pouring into the game, big name sponsors had put pressure on the rules committee to allow the female players a little flexibility. In short, the players could wear skirts of any length as long as they covered the buttocks while the player was at rest and standing straight, and the underwear rules had been relaxed to permit any kind of underwear except thongs and g-strings. There had been fierce opposition to these changes, and a few resignations had occurred. But the changes had stuck.So, on the first day of the Wimbledon fortnight, Tina had strode on to the court wearing a semi-stretchy white miniskirt that covered her buttocks with almost an inch to spare, with a pair of pale blue French-cut panties underneath. The outfit had gone down a storm. Every day for the last week and a half, she had graced several pages of each and every tabloid in the country. She practically received a standing ovation every time she walked out on to the court.And today she faced Laura Lessing. Laura had received a similarly rapturous welcome on her first day, as she appeared on court wearing not only her trademark ‘flying’ skirt, but also a tight tank top through which the outline of her bra was clearly visible. The tabloids contained nearly as many photos of Laura as they did of Tina. In fact, over the last couple of days Tina had been incensed to discover herself almost marginalised by full-page spreads of Laura’s latest gimmick – a pair of French-cut panties that had been judiciously altered to turn them almost, but not quite, into a thong. And the committee did not object! This angered Tina. Laura was flouting the new rules and getting away with it!So last night, Tina had decided she was not going to be outdone in her own match. She had summoned her tailor (she never went anywhere without him these days), and given him the job of ‘editing’ her own panties. She showed him the picture of Laura’s bottom adorning the front page of The Quasar. “I want you to make mine even skimpier than that,” she said, “while still not being a thong.”Gerard’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “That … will be tricky,” he remarked. “But I’ll give it a try.”And so he had. The following morning, Tina was impressed with the result.“That will surely slip between my buttocks,” she observed critically.“It will, after a short while,” agreed Gerard. “But it’s not a thong – not quite. And I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of pulling it out of your arse every few points in front of the cameras.”Tina considered this, and a smile came to her lips. “Yes…” she said.“That will be fun.”But Martin, her manager, was outraged when he saw the garment. “You cannot wear that!” he exclaimed. “It’s hardly any bigger than the thong you wore last year! And just remember – you almost got banned from Wimbledon on account of that little stunt.”“It wasn’t a stunt!” objected Tina. “But that’s academic anyway. They’ve relaxed the rules since then, as well you know.”“But there are still rules,” Martin insisted. “And one of them is that thongs aren’t allowed.”“This isn’t a thong,” said Tina.“It virtually is. And when it’s bunched up between your butt cheeks, who’s going to know the difference?”“Who indeed?” Tina smiled wryly. “But I can easily prove to them that it isn’t.”Martin frowned, then turned on his heel and walked away.“He’ll get over it,” Gerard told her. “Now, about this top…”“Oh yes! Do you have it?”“It’s in your bag,” said the tailor. “Check it out – I think you’ll like it.”Tina hurried through to her room and placed the almost-thong on her bed next to her equipment bag. Opening the bag, she smiled as she spotted a white cut-off t-shirt folded neatly on the top. She smiled to herself.This was her latest gambit – exposure of the midriff. She pulled it out and held it up, giggling naughtily. Then she pulled out the miniskirt and sighed happily as she imagined the whole combination. This was going to be a good day. Finally she went through the rest of the equipment in the bag, making sure it was all present. She was not going to make the same mistake she had made this time last year!Placing her racquets in the bag first, she re-packed everything, leaving her clothing until last. She hesitated for a moment, then resisted the temptation to try the clothes on before packing them, too. She laid the panties and the skirt side by side on top of her track suit, then placed the t-shirt on top.“Tina?”She turned around at the sound of her manager’s voice. “Yes Martin?”“Waldo’s here – he wants to talk to you about tonight’s do.”Tina frowned. “Couldn’t he have phoned?”“He was in the hotel,” explained Martin. “Thought he’d ‘just drop by’ or something.”“Okay, I’m coming.” Tina stood up and went out to meet her agent.Waldo was a tall man with a thick crop of wild grey hair that always looked as if he’d been out in a strong wind. He had a habit of finishing every other sentence with “don’t you know” and his eyebrows bobbed up and down as he talked. Tina found him rather intimidating, but he was the best agent she’d had.“Ahem, well Tina, good morning and how do you do,” he pronounced sternly.“I’ve been chewing the old fat with the blokes at the press office and they happened to bring up the subject of interviews, don’t you know. So I thought to myself, as I am wont to do, ‘now here if I am not greatly mistaken is an opportunity old boy’ and …”Tina only half-listened, fascinated by his eyebrows, as Waldo trundled on through a terribly one-sided conversation at the end of which he paused, awaiting her response. She shook herself. “Ah, whatever you think is best, Waldo,” she said. “I trust your judgment.”“Most gratifying I am sure, well I’ll be tootling off now if you’ll pardon my flying visit – oh and I have another advertising contract I need to discuss with you, but it can wait until tonight, what? Or even tomorrow don’t you know. Toodle-pip.” And with that he swept out of the room.“We should be leaving,” said Martin, coming back into the room. “Are you ready?”“Sure,” said Tina. “Let me grab my bag.”She walked back into her bedroom and reached down to zip up her bag. Then she stopped. Something was not quite right. Her eyes narrowing, she slid her hand down the side of the bag and pulled out a white object that she had just glimpsed the corner of. It was a pair of conservative white panties.Annoyed, she flung them on to the floor. “Thought you’d try to convince me of the error of my ways, did you Martin?” she muttered.She said nothing to Martin as they left the hotel, and only in the car did she finally break her silence. “Honestly Martin,” she reprimanded him.“Sometimes you act just like my mother.”“Huh?” Martin looked puzzled.“The panties?”“Oh.” Martin flushed and responded defensively, “Well I’m sorry, but there are limits, you know.”“Just forget it,” said Tina.In the Centre Court changing rooms she met up with her arch-rival, and today’s opponent, Laura Lessing. “Hi,” said Tina rather coldly.“Hi Tina!” Laura gushed. “Wow, I’m so happy to be playing against you at last! You are my absolute hero, you know.”Tina was utterly disarmed, and found herself rather flustered. “Well, I…” she began. “Thank you! That’s nice of you to say so.”“I think it’s great what you’ve done for women’s tennis,” continued Laura.“You’ve possibly seen my, um … tributes … to your groundbreaking stunt last year…”“It wasn’t…” Tina began, before changing her mind. “Well, I guess I always figured you were trying to outdo me,” she said. “You must admit you’ve become rather popular yourself…”“I know!” Laura’s eyes were like saucers, as if she could barely comprehend the idea. “Isn’t it amazing? I mean, I’m nowhere near as pretty as you – I’m just overwhelmed at the attention I’ve got.”Tina chuckled. “Have you ever thought of, you know, toning it down a little?”Laura looked surprised. “Why, no,” she said. “Have you?” But she did not wait for a response before continuing in a conspiratorial whisper, “I just love to go a little further each time, you see. I know sooner or later I’ll get into trouble, but isn’t it amazing what they’ll let you get away with this year?”“Yes, it is,” agreed Tina. She sighed and began to undress. “Guess we’d better get into our skimpy outfits then.”Laura giggled. “Ooh yes,” she said.Tina pulled her t-shirt and skirt out of her bag, then stared into her bag in horror. Her heart plummeted into her shoes. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.“What is it?” asked Laura in alarm.“My panties! They’re not here!”“What? Are you sure?”Tina suddenly realised with a shock that Martin had not only placed a conservative pair of panties in her bag, he had removed the other pair at the same time! “I don’t believe it!” she said. “My manager’s taken them out!”“Can’t you wear what you’re wearing now?” inquired Laura. “As I understand it, that’s what you did last year.”“I’m not wearing underwear,” hissed Tina sharply.“Ah,” said Laura. “Oops.”“Hey, are you wearing panties?” asked Tina on a sudden thought.“Yes but…”“Great! Can I wear them?”“No! I’m wearing the ones I’ll be wearing on the court!”“Oh.” Tina was crestfallen. “Good grief, what a fix.”“What skirt have you got?” inquired Laura.Tina showed her.Laura nodded. “Ah yes, I know that one. It doesn’t ride up much, does it?”“Not much,” conceded Tina. “But enough, probably.”“Maybe not, if you’re careful. And won’t it be awesome? Think of it – the first woman to play tennis at a Grand Slam tournament without panties!” Tina groaned. “I suppose it’s possible I might get away with it,” she said. “But I’ll be giving you the advantage.”Laura waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense,” she said airily. “You’re the better player – you’ll have no problems.”Tina stared at Laura, perplexed. “What kind of pep-talk do you give yourself?” she inquired. “Are you expecting to lose?”“I don’t mind.” Laura shrugged. “I’m just out to play my best and have a good time. I don’t have any illusions.”Tina shook her head in great puzzlement, then sighed as she considered her position. Eventually she decided to bite the bullet, and changed into her miniskirt, sports bra and cut-off t-shirt. The latter item caught her by surprise – it was far tighter than she had imagined.Laura whistled. “Wow, sexy!” Tina chuckled. The top really was tight – it clung to every curve of her breasts and the bra beneath made highly visible ridges in its fabric. She decided she rather liked the effect.But then she noticed what Laura was wearing. She gasped. “Oh my goodness!” Laura had really pulled out all the stops, knowing she was up against the woman who had started the whole revolution in women’s tennis wear. Her light skirt had been drastically reduced in length – it barely covered her buttocks – and she was wearing a tight lycra crop-top that made Tina’s t-shirt seem almost conservative. “How do I look?” she asked.“You look … naked!” exclaimed Tina.Laura giggled. “Why thank you!” she said.The two girls donned their track suits and walked out to meet the crowd, to whistles and cheers and great applause. They lapped it up. Then Martin arrived.“Where have you been?” Tina hissed.“Getting a drink,” he said. “What’s up?”“What’s up??” Tina fought to control her anger. “Martin you idiot, I didn’t realise you’d taken my panties out of my bag!”“Huh?”“Those ones you put in there – I threw them away! Now I have nothing!” Martin gasped in shock. “Oh … my … God,” he managed at last.“Tell me about it. Now do you think you can go and get me some?”“Well, I’ll try,” he said, “but you know what the traffic’s like. Remember the last time?”“You don’t need to go all the way back to the hotel,” she told him. “Just find a clothes shop.”Martin nodded. “Okay,” he said, and hurried off.The sky was overcast as the two girls took off their track suits to rapturous applause. Cameras snapped in their hundreds. Tina had stomach butterflies as she began her warm up with a few serves from the right-hand side of the court. But her skirt stayed put (pretty much), and she made sure its hem stayed well below her buttocks. The breeze on her naked pussy made her feel terribly uneasy, but she forced herself not to think about it, and tried to concentrate on serving well.Meanwhile, Laura was getting all the attention. She was leaping high in every serve, her skirt flying up to reveal a pair of white silk panties that were almost as small as the ones Tina had been planning to wear. And they looked as if they were several sizes too small. Already the material at the back was creeping between her buttocks, and she made no attempt to rectify the situation. And she took her time about bending over (with straight legs) to pick up balls from the grass.Tina was a little relieved not to have all the cameras scrutinising her, but also rather annoyed that the crowd was watching Laura and not her.Nevertheless, she did not dare to let her skirt ride any higher than it was doing already, so she forced herself to ignore her opponent’s exhibitionistic antics and the crowd’s response.The match began. As expected, Tina’s skirt did not ride up much, and she began to relax a little. She was careful not to allow any point to go on for too long (sometimes this meant giving Laura the occasional point, but she could afford them), and gradually she began to feel that she was, after all, in control. After four games, the score was 3:1, and Tina was about to serve in the fifth when it began to rain.It was just a light drizzle, but after only a couple of points the grass was beginning to get slippery, and after a meaningful glance from Tina, the umpire ordered the covers to be brought out. Tina was relieved – it would buy her some time before Martin got back.But the covers were not on for long. Five minutes later the rain had ceased, and the players were cleared to resume the game. This they did, but this time Laura had the advantage. The damp grass caused them both to slip on several occasions, but whereas Laura took this in her stride, relishing the opportunity to flash her panties yet again, Tina could not afford to let her skirt ride up at all. So she played it safe, taking only small steps, while Laura capitalised on the opportunity to break serve for the first time.The drizzle began again in the next game, but stopped after only a couple of minutes. Tina was by now getting rather frustrated. She lost to Laura’s serve, then lost her own serve after that. Things were not going well. On the positive side, the rain was causing her t-shirt to cling even tighter to her chest, and the material was even easier to see through now that it was damp.Laura could not help but notice this as she came all the way up to the net to slam home a winning cross-court volley. She realised that her own crop top was not the type of garment to turn transparent in the rain, and she wished she had thought to wear a thin t-shirt like Tina’s. But perhaps there was something else she could do…At the beginning of the ninth game, with the score at 5:3 (to Laura), Tina bounced a ball in front of her, glancing occasionally at her opponent. She watched as Laura hopped from one foot to the other, bouncing on the spot, and then frowned. Laura seemed a little more … bouncy? than usual.And then she realised the startling truth: that her opponent had taken off her bra! Laura’s crop top was now bouncing under the influence of a pair of decidedly unfettered breasts (and Laura’s chest was fairly large for a tennis player).“Two can play at that game,” thought Tina to herself, and she clenched her teeth in a new resolve.Determined to pull herself back into the match, Tina began to take a few more risks. She managed to win her serve, but then had a nasty fright in Laura’s service game. While running at full-stretch to intercept an attempted pass, she slipped and abruptly did the splits (almost) on the damp grass. She squealed in horror and immediately closed her legs, pulling her skirt down to cover her neatly-trimmed pubic hair.There were one or two puzzled stares from the crowd, but the glimpse had been too brief for them to be sure about what they had seen. Tina could almost hear their comments: “Did you just see what I saw? Well, I’m not sure… it looked like she’s not wearing panties… Of course, I could be wrong…”She got to her feet, somewhat rattled, and returned to the baseline. The next couple of points went badly, and soon she found herself facing the wrong end of a set point. Biting her lip in anxiety, she was almost wrong-footed as the ball came hurtling down the court to her right-hand side. She launched herself towards it.Her foot slipped, and shot backwards. She sank to the floor as the ball whipped past her unmet. Her skirt had ridden up again and she hastily pulled it down as she got to her feet. Again, the whispers…“Game and first set to Miss Lessing,” announced the umpire.Tina sighed unhappily and prepared to serve. The lack of a bra certainly had not severely handicapped her opponent’s game. In fact, she seemed to have acquired a new confidence and was making very few errors. Still, her serve was not strong and could be beaten.By serving well, and taking some judicious risks, Tina succeeded in winning her service game. Smiling to herself as she sat down, she decided to up the stakes in the battle for the press’s attention. As surreptitiously as she could, she unclasped her bra and slipped it off, pulling it out through the left arm-hole of her t-shirt and dropping it into her bag. Immediately the damp t-shirt clung to her bare breasts, and with an involuntary shiver she realised she could just make out her nipples through the thin material. She was sure that the press cameras would also be able to see them.Without bra or panties, she walked out on to the court in just a cut-off t-shirt and a microskirt. Feeling naked and vulnerable but also rather aroused, she winked at Laura before her opponent served. The sensation of playing with no restraints on her breasts, however, was too unfamiliar and her return went wide. Laura’s next serve she pounded back into the net.Cursing to herself, she prepared to try again. She was annoyed with herself for having so much difficulty playing without a bra, when Laura seemed to be managing just fine.‘She probably practices without a bra all the time,’ she thought to herself suddenly. ‘Oh heck, what have I let myself in for?’ She lost that game, and then her own service game. Now 2:1 down, she watched as Laura prepared to serve once again. Her nineteen-year-old opponent’s crop top seemed a little skimpier somehow, and Tina frowned.What had the dratted girl done now? A brief rendezvous at the net in the next point answered her question.Laura had folded over part of her top, so that not only was it now more revealing, but it was also serving to keep her breasts in place more effectively. This was a clever plan, but it was risky – too much bouncing and Laura’s breasts would pop out from underneath the crop top. No doubt that added to the girl’s thrill.The drizzle began again, but not before Tina had broken serve, and then held on to her own serve, to bring the score to 3:2. As the two girls sat down in their respective places, the umpire leaned over to speak to Tina.“Miss Hathaway?” he said.Tina looked up guiltily. She folded her arms across her chest, convinced he was going to reprimand her for removing her bra. But she was mistaken.“How’s the court?” he asked. “I’m considering abandoning play, but it’s up to you two. Miss Lessing is happy to continue, so it’s your decision.”Tina thought for a moment. Martin was not back yet, but he surely would be soon. And she was beginning to play better now. Finally she was back in the lead, and she was becoming confident she could stay ahead until the end of this set. Furthermore, she was enjoying the way the drizzle was making her t-shirt more see-through every minute. “I’m okay for the moment,” she said. “It’s not that bad out there.”“Very well,” said the umpire, nodding.Tina took a swig from her water bottle, then got up and returned to the court.Two lost games later, she was regretting her decision. The drizzle had stopped, but the ground was still rather wet and slippery. She no longer felt she had an excuse for requesting that play be abandoned, and her t-shirt was not getting any more transparent. Facing what could possibly be her penultimate game of this tournament, she decided to go all out in her efforts to win the publicity battle. If she could not win the match, at least she could still steal the next day’s headlines from that upstart Laura.Carefully and deliberately, she poured the remaining contents of her water bottle over her chest, making sure she covered both breasts equally. The material quickly turned almost completely transparent, and despite herself she gasped at the sight of her breasts staring back at her. The wet t-shirt clung tightly to every contour and concealed nothing.Holding her head high (while trying not to meet anyone’s gaze), she marched out on to the court once again. Laura did the same, but then her jaw dropped as she saw Tina’s transformation. Tina saw her giggle and then hold up a thumb in admiring support.“Miss Hathaway…” came the umpire’s voice over the loudspeaker.Tina trotted over to speak to him.The umpire leaned over and said, “Enough is enough, Miss Hathaway. This is not a wet t-shirt contest, it is a tennis match. The new rules regarding the dress code are there to encourage freedom of expression, not indecent behaviour. Do you have another shirt?”“I’m afraid not,” confessed Tina.The umpire sighed. “And where is your bra?”“It broke,” Tina lied.“All right, but one more lewd act on your part and I will disqualify you and ban you from the tournament. The whole tone of this event has dropped through the floor, and I’m damned if I’m going to take it any more.”Tina nodded. “I understand.” Rather subdued, she returned to the court.The game went badly. Tina found her t-shirt highly distracting, and with every bounce it rode higher and higher and threatened to expose her breasts to the world. Soon it was revealing as much flesh as Laura’s crop top.Nevertheless, she liked the effect and did not attempt to replace it, until she heard a warning cough from the umpire. She hastily pulled it down.She lost that game, and prepared to serve to stay in the match. She served well, but a good return surprised her and she failed to clear the net with her follow-up shot. Then she noticed that her vigorous serve had resulted in her t-shirt being hoisted up high on her chest. Only a half-inch of material extended below the lower curve of her breasts. Rather reluctantly, she pulled the t-shirt down.The next few serves had similar effects, but a longer point almost resulted in her breasts popping free of the t-shirt entirely. She won two points, but also lost two.So now she was at match point, again, and this time her predicament was even worse. What could she do? If she preserved her modesty and lost, was that any better than going all out and perhaps being banned from the rest of the tournament? Probably not.She served, and at once felt her t-shirt climb up again. But she ignored it and concentrated on trying to predict where Laura’s return would end up.It was short – that was good. Tina raced forward and whipped the ball over to the far corner. But Laura, realising the danger, was already almost there. She hammered it back down the line, and Tina had to lunge to reach it. She made it, just, and the ball bounced high off her racquet – a mis-hit.Laura was quick to take advantage, her chest bouncing as she ran around the back of the ball. She attempted to fire it down the right-hand line, but Tina caught it at the net with a drop volley. However, it bounced harder off her racquet than she had intended, leaving Laura with an easy opportunity for a lob. Tina raced backwards, only to find to her horror that Laura was not going for the lob at all. She was responding with a drop shot of her own.Tina sprinted forwards, just reaching the ball in time. But as she dug her feet in to brake herself, they slid on the wet grass, shooting right under the net. Tina yelped as she fell to the ground and slid forwards on her back. Her skirt, caught by the net as she passed beneath it, was yanked up to her waist. Her t-shirt was pulled up by sheer friction, both on the ground and on the bottom of the net, until it was wrapped around her neck.At this point Tina came to an abrupt halt, with her head on one side of the net and her rather unclothed body on the other.The crowd fell into a stunned silence, then erupted in a cacophony of wolf-whistles, cheers and thunderous applause. The umpire’s announcement of “Game, set and match to Miss Lessing” went completely unheard. Laura, meanwhile, walked over to where Tina was lying with her pussy and breasts fully exposed to the crowd and to the world’s photographers. She looked down at Tina and smiled.“You win,” she said.THE END

(What follows is a work of fiction. All readers must be over eighteen years of age. It is suggested that readers use their most open minds, but, since some have nothing resembling such, this cannot be made a requirement for enjoying the story. If you are one of those poor, unfortunate thinkers who have lost the key of acceptance and cannot open their minds, please don’t continue reading what you know will stir up your righteous indignation.)Chapter OneMy Dad made mistakes the year I was 18. He was a deputy sheriff in Oklahoma City. He was busted for dealing pounds of methamphetamine, and given thirty-five years. Because he was a lawman, he was put in solitary confinement. Putting ex-lawmen in solitary confinement is a clever way of letting the general prison population know they’re cops. I was just finishing the drawing I was going to send him for my 19 Christmas, when I found out he had beaten himself up and then hung himself in his cell at the prison at Lexington.Mom made some mistakes, too, but hers were more innocent…at least at first. After Dad beat himself to death, Mom grieved for about a year, about the appropriate time for a wife-beater who was wired all the time. Then she started dressing more attractively. She also started taking the stairs to and from the third-floor law office where she was a legal secretary. She had some extra weight to take off if she hoped to find a husband who wouldn’t take off, she said. When she fell down the stairs and broke her arm in seventeen places, her job as well as her motivation to exercise ceased.Mom had no choice. She was alone in Oklahoma City without a husband or a job. She also had a hungry, growing teenaged son. She packed our belongings in the back of her Ford Country Squire station wagon and drove us the one hundred and twenty miles from OKC to Hanging Tree, Oklahoma–the strangest smalltown in the world.Hanging Tree was named after a hanging tree that still stood–after two hundred proud years of evil–in the yard of the courthouse square in the center of the tiny town. The tree had been used for hanging in the previous century first by the “civilized” Native Americans then by the “cultured” European invaders. Ropes tied to its strongest and most accessible limb had ended hundreds of lives over the years. I thought the town was going to end my life without the courtesy of a noose.Mom moved us in with her widowed mother in a white clapboard house at the southskirts of Hanging Tree. From the moment we moved in, there was trouble. Trouble was named Stanley. Stanley was my cousin, but he wasn’t proud of that fact. To him, my father’s disgrace was mine and my mother’s as well. He was a thick-skulled, ex-Marine, 18 years older than I was, but he became my personal demon. He didn’t like the idea that Mom and I were living with his grandma, increasing her burden in her golden years. He loved his grandma. He respected his grandma like any good military man. When he came over and threatened to kill me if I didn’t leave, I told him to go fuck himself, so he decided to change tactics. That’s why he told Grandma Russell that I’d been having sex with my mother since Dad went to prison. It was his way of gently motivating his beloved grandmother to do the right thing and kick us out.I had just walked into the yard at Grandma’s house. I’d been across town at a friend’s house smoking pot. I loved the way pot made me feel, and the fact that it was illegal only made me feel closer to my dead Dad. Grandma was out in the yard, hanging washing on the clothes line. They liked hanging things in Hanging Tree. I had no idea my grandmother was waiting to hang me up for the rest of my life.As I walked into the yard, Grandma Russell said, “Micheal, come here! I want to talk to you!”She sounded serious, so I stopped in the yard and said, “What you want, Grandma?”She walked her bony, wrinkled ass, working her elbows for propulsion, and came quickly across the yard to where I stood by the gate. When she got two feet from me, she stopped, put one hand on a hip, and shook the index finger of her other hand in my face. Taken aback, I said, “What’s the deal, Grandma?”“Micheal Russell, have you been having sex with your mother?” The finger in my face wagged out each word. “Stanley was over here this morning and said you’ve been doing it with your mother ever since your father went to prison and died! If you have, you had just better confess your sin so I can pray for you!”I looked at her. I started to speak, but words wouldn’t come. I was shocked beyond tears or self-defense. From my 18-year-old viewpoint, I was living through a hell on earth. My father had been disgraced, imprisoned, and killed. My mother had disabled herself, and we’d had to move from Oklahoma City to a scab like Hanging Tree. I had been getting one or two pimples that made me self-conscious. We had no money, I had no friends, and now my grandmother was accusing me of fucking my mother!“No, Grandma! No! Christ!”“Don’t you use the name of the Savior in vain, young man. You’re in enough trouble with Heaven for having carnal knowledge of your own sweet mother and her with one bad arm!”“But I didn’t! I didn’t have sex with Mom! Grandma! Stanley’s lying! Why are you so quick to believe something like that just because my sick cousin Stanley says it’s so?”She looked at me with hidden disappointment dawning as she realized that it probably wasn’t true. She had been ready for a battle against the devil for my soul and Momma’s pussy. Now that she began to believe I was telling the truth (and at the time I was), she became embarrassed. But it was a strange embarrassment.Instead of acting as if she were embarrassed about what she had said, she acted as if she were naked in front of me. When a woman is simply apologizing for being irrational, she doesn’t cover her clothed breasts with her arm, or splay her hand over her clothed pussy. I was young, but I read a lot. I knew the signs, and there was no mistaking the look in Grandma’s eyes. She was as turned on as a cat in heat.She took the hand that had symbolically hidden her pussy and put it on my arm. She smiled at me and laid her head against my shoulder. I couldn’t believe what seemed to be happening. Then she removed any doubt. Putting her other hand on the bulge in the front of my jeans, my grandmother said, “Since your grandfather died, it seems like my old cunt does all my thinking for me.”The longer Grandma massaged my dick through my jeans, the more forgiving I became. “Your Mom is going to be in Tulsa till late tonight. Let’s go in the house,” she said. I was easily led.We went to her bedroom. She sat on the bed and pulled me close to her. With a wicked gleam dancing in her old eyes, Grandma undid my belt and fly, took out my rock-hard eight inches (the only thing Dad left me), and dove for it like a big-mouthed bass for a spinner. I’d never experienced the like before, but Grandma had. She knew just what to do, grabbing my ass, twirling the tip of her tongue around the head of my dick as it bobbed in and out of her mouth. In what seemed like moments, I was holding the back of Grandma’s head with both hands and squirting cum into her throat. She moaned as she sucked. My head was reeling from the orgasm and from the thought of what I was doing.When she’d sucked me dry, she sat back, wiped her lips, smiled at me and said, “Now…you may not be fucking your mother, but you can fuck your old grandma’s pussy if you want.” She pulled her feet up on the bed, pulled up the hem of her dress, spread her legs, and scooted her hips forward on the bed. I reached down and grabbed her panties and pulled them down her skinny thighs and off over her tiny feet. She reached down and spread her inner lips. My dick got hard again.I kneeled on the bed and positioned myself between her thighs. Grandma reached in the front of her dress and pulled out a long, hard-nippled breast. Then she reached between my legs and grabbed my cock. “Oh, God forgive me! Heaven knows I need this!” Then she put the head of my dick between her moist lips. She threw her arms around my lower back and slammed me into her sixty-year-old snatch. It was warm, and soft, and I was hooked.In the limited day to day evaluation of a teenage boy, I became quite fond of life in Hanging Tree. I went to school where I was a slightly shy new kid with few friends, but when I came home I had plenty of opportunities to relieve the day’s stresses. Every time Mom was out of the house, I’d fuck Grandma like we were newlyweds. I had her all over the house. She made me like the forbidden aspect of our lovemaking by being up front with her wickedness. Sometimes I’d worry about people coming to the door, because when I was sliding my big dick in and out of Grandma’s lush, withered cunt, she’d shout things like, “That’s it. That’s it, son! Fuck Grandma’s pussy hard! Oh, you grandmotherfucker!”Mom never let on that she knew. I found out that Grandma had told her soon after it began, but Mom played dumb. Then on the night of July 4th, 1979, Mom and Grandma started getting ready to go somewhere. I came in the house and went to the refrigerator to get a Dr. Pepper. I noticed them getting ready and asked where they were going.“You’re going too,” Grandma said. “Go get cleaned up some.”“Where am I going?” I asked Mom who came into the kitchen, asking me to zip her up. (Her right arm was still weak from the fall.)“We’re going to a special Bible study,” Mom said, smiling over her shoulder at me after I pulled the zipper to her neckline.“Ah, Mom. I don’t want to go to church.” We didn’t make it a habit of going to church. Dad had been a nonbeliever, and Mom hadn’t made a big thing of her beliefs if she had any. I had come to the conclusion that God was a story like Santa Claus that they told you to convince you to be good.With Mom standing right in front of me, smiling at me and working to put her earring on, Grandma walked right up to me and grabbed my bulge. She’d never done anything like that in front of Mom before. I looked at Mom’s face, expecting surprise, and saw only that kindly light she always shined at her only child. Grandma said, “You’ll like this Bible study, you hard-dicked sweetheart. Now go get ready!” She gave my bulge a squeeze that made me see stars. I went to comb my hair.It was indeed a “special” Bible study, but I wondered then, and I still wonder, how unique it was. Christianity, in its more fundamentalist forms, is a repressive disease that starves its practioners for sex. If there were no Christianity, there would be a hundred times less perversion. Christianity forces people to deny their sexuality until it bursts forth in slightly twisted eruptions. I wondered how many churches across the nation has special meetings that only the more sensual Biblethumpers attended.The Bible study was held at a house in the country. When we pulled up about sunset, there were six cars parked carelessly around the circular drive at the front of the expensive home. Grandma parked the station wagon, and we went inside.A beautiful blonde girl of about twelve years met us at the front door and escorted us to a large inner room. There were eleven people in the room. Our number would bring the total to a multiple of seven. I learned that this was thought to be important. The young blonde introduced us to the assembly by happily proclaiming, “The seventh family is here! Here they are! The seventh family is here.”The room was furnished with style. The walls were covered with bright abstract paintings and the leaves of potted plants set all around its perimeter. The open square of the center of the room was bordered by long, plush, white couches. We sat in one corner of the fence of couches, and a tall, thin, dark man in a black business suit stood and began addressing the congregation:“If you have known Love, you have known God,” said the deacon.“If you have known Love, you have known God,” we all repeated.The deacon strolled slowly around the inner square, smiling at each, acknowledging each, as he spoke:“This is a great occasion for us today. Last month we lost three of our members who moved to Los Angeles. We have done well, but there is only so much we can do if we lack the Holy Numbers. Now we have seven families represented by fourteen people. Our prayers will be mighty tonight, praise God.”“Praise God,” the congregation echoed.“I am called The Deacon. No one here uses their everyday name. This is a special meeting of true believers in God’s grace. We believe, as did the first century Christians, that nothing is wrong as long as it hurts no one and is done in true love. Our freedom, eroded by centuries of dogma, is the liberty of the Law of Love.“We all go to regular Fundamentalist churches because Fundamentalism is about all there is in Oklahoma. But this is our true place of worship. Here we thank God for the gift of our bodies. Here we live as we were created to live in shameless Eden.”At that, everyone stood. I’d only been to church once or twice in my life, but I remembered they were big about everybody doing everything together, standing together, sitting together, singing together. I stood. Then everyone started taking their clothes off. It was quiet, unhurried, almost reverent. Not until I saw Mom and Grandma, to my right and my left, disrobing did I come out of my amazement enough to do likewise.When everyone was naked, the Deacon took a seat on the couch. Then the women, all the women, stood and paraded in the center square. At first they said nothing, just walked around, every shape and size of women, every age from the twelve-year-old blonde to my sixtyish grandmother. I couldn’t take my eyes off my beautiful, big-boobed, brunette-bushed Mom. Since I had been wrongly accused of fucking her, fucking her was all I could think about. The mind is funny that way.Then, at a nod from the Deacon, the women stood together in a cluster, raised their prayerful hands to their lips, bowed their heads, and began chanting a Bible verse over and over–“Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, turn not away.“Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, turn not away…”Besides the Deacon, there were two other males in the room, a fat man with a grey beard and a skinny redheaded guy a few years older than me. They were all masturbating their cocks to get them hard. I didn’t have to.The women stopped chanting their Bible verses. Then Mom walked over to me, her big breasts swinging, still firm. She held her bad arm under her breasts. She got on her knees in front of me and said, “Be careful of my arm, darling.” Then she bowed her head again and took the head of my dick in her mouth.I was ecstatic. Nothing had ever felt as good. Looking down incredulously, I saw her beautiful hazel eyes smiling at me merrily as she sucked my big, thick dick into her pretty mouth. I began to rock my hips up and down, fucking her mouth. Her good hand crept up my thigh and squeezed my balls.“Oh, fuck this,” I said. I got up and set her where I’d been sitting. She was more beautiful to me, sitting there with her legs pulled back, smiling at her son about to fuck her, than anything I’d seen before or have seen since. I grabbed my throbbing dick in my right hand. I was going to fuck my mother! I was going to be a motherfucker just like I’d been accused of being. I was about as far from being ashamed of it as I could be. I felt like the luckiest guy in the world.I could feel the individual hairs of my mother’s hot cunt touching the head of my dick as I guided it between her fat, olive-pink pussylips. When I stuck the head in her hole, Mom cooed, “Oh, yes! Stick that big, beautiful dick in Momma’s hot, hairy pussy. Oh, Micheal! Stick it in and fuck me. I’ve wanted this for so long.”I shoved my dick up in my mother as far as I could. Her heat and sweet creaminess was all the more delightful because it was forbidden. I was fucking my dear sweet mother, had my dick in her pussy, and I wanted to stay there for the rest of my life. Pumping my dick back and forth, in and out of Mom’s soft, wet twat, I heard the sucking sound that’s a soundtrack to sex. The sound itself turned me on even more. I looked down and watched Mom’s cuntlips cling to my dick. Her breathing was becoming quicker and uneven. I reached down and began sucking her rose-brown nipple while my hips continued driving my truck up her tunnel.I was sucking and fucking Mom enthusiastically, when I felt her start to spasm. She began moaning my name faster and faster, throwing her pussy up to meet my jabbing cock. Then she almost screamed, “Oh, God is Love! Micheal, fuck Mommy’s pussy. Oh, fuck Mommy’s wet hairy hole! I’m cumming! I’m CUMMMING!!”Pulling my mouth roughly off her tit, I straightened up and began kissing Mom’s mouth like we were horny kids in the backseat of a car. I pounded my cock in her cunt and French kissed her through her orgasm. When she was spent, I kept fucking her slowly. Her eyes looked into mine and widened. I smiled at her, kissed her lips briefly, and then, punctuating every word with a thrust of my dick into her honeypot, I said, “Mom, I hope you like what you started, because you’re mine now. I’m going to fuck you like you were my girlfriend from now on. Say it. Say this pussy is mine.”She put her hands on my biceps and wiggled her pussy from side to side as I slammed into it. “Oh, yes, darling. Mom’s yours now. Your Daddy’s gone, and you’re going to fill more than his shoes.” She laughed and then pulled herself up to my sweating body and began slapping her sopping cunt up to meet the rhythm of my dick. “Anytime you want to borrow a little of your Momma’s hot pussy, all you have to do is ask, sweetheart. All you have to do is ask.”Still fucking, but feeling my own orgasm rising, I laughed and said, “Why do I have to ask?”When I asked the question, Mom had been sucking on my right nipple. She pulled her face back and began running her fingers through my sweaty chest hair as my strokes in her steaming twat got faster and faster. “Because that’s the Law of Love,” she said. Just as I started shooting a huge load of cum up her gleefully incestuous cunt, Mom began chanting:“Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, turn not away. Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, turn not away. Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, turn not away.”THE END

My wife was out of town for the week, which left me without much to do besides watching TV or…

(With grateful thanks to Italian reader Stefano Milanese, who provided the ideas for this story) Rosemary Castle, now in her forties, is an attractive brunette who stands 5’11” in her stockinged feet. Her 36-24-36 figure is exactly as it was in her twenties, and her fabulous long legs attract admiring glances wherever she goes. She tells here in her own words, how her life became much more fun the day she decided to tell her husband she was leaving him. Chapter 1 I married Michael when we were both 21. He was a lot smaller than me at 5’3,” and was slightly built. At first, the differences between us worked very well. I was always the strong one, taking charge of everything, he with his docile nature letting me do it. I got my way by having the two children I wanted, Candy and Adam, very early in the marriage and within a year of each other. As the years went on, however, I began to lose respect for my submissive husband. He was going nowhere in his job, and at home I was the one who kept the family together with no help from him. Sex was also a problem. He is very poorly endowed, and absolutely hopeless in the bedroom. I don’t recall him giving me an orgasm in all the years we have been together. The only way I managed to stick it out was to have a succession of lovers throughout the marriage to keep me satisfied. Despite this, when the children were 17 and 16 I decided I had had enough. I sat Michael down, and told him that I was going to leave. Predictably, he began to cry and beg me not to go. He told me he loved me more than anything, and would do everything I asked of him if only I would stay. Eventually, I said that although I did not want to, I would give it a try but strictly on my terms. He agreed immediately. I decided that I would no longer try to hide my infidelities, and told him all about my previous lovers. I also made it clear to him that I was presently seeing a 22 year old, well endowed black guy. I told him that I would continue to see the man, and that he would have to accept not being allowed to have sex with me again. Michael was devastated at my revelations, but when he calmed down agreed to my conditions. Because I no longer cared, I began to flaunt my affair with my boyfriend Tony. I would let Michael know when I was going out for sex, and when I returned I would make sure my husband got a good look at my ravaged body, with love bites all over my tits and neck. Knowing how much this upset him, because he had always been very jealous, I began to take it further. I would slip into bed naked, and pull Michael’s head down to my pussy and make him lap up the cum that Tony had deposited there. He complained at first, but when he knew that refusal meant that I would leave, he did as he was told. I told Michael that on no account was he to see other women, and that I did not want him jerking off. I suspected that he was doing so, but had never seen him. However, one day I returned home early to find him sniffing at a pair of my cum-soaked panties, while stroking his little cock. I went mad at him, calling him all the perverts under the sun, and telling him that if he did not agree to having his cock locked up to prevent masturbation, I was out the door. The wimp agreed to wear a cock cage, and then I really went to town on him. I insisted he sleep naked next to me every night, and that he spend an hour before going to sleep attending to my pussy with his tongue, whether I was full of cum or not. While he did this, I would taunt him about the size of Tony’s cock, and his prowess in bed. I would tell him that my lover would fuck me at least three times a night, and give me an orgasm every time. Within a couple of weeks, the cage was doing its job, and Michael began begging me for release. He never got it of course. Later on, I decided Michael should meet Tony, the real man who was cuckolding him, so I began making my husband join the two of us for dinner. We would sit opposite him, kissing and cuddling throughout the meal, to my husband’s obvious distress. A scenario we repeated very often was to go back to our place, drag Michael to the bedroom with us, and make him watch while Tony fucked me beautifully. My husband would then be made to suck my pussy clean, while Tony stood by ridiculing him. When that was done, I would watch while Michael sucked my lover’s cock clean of his cum and my juices. Michael would then be sent, sobbing, jealous and frustrated to the spare room while Tony and I carried on fucking through the night. I was having great fun, and always looking for new ways to humiliate my husband. The next stage in my treatment of him was not my idea, however. Tony still lived at home with his mother Rachel, and 17-year-old sister Amy. He had told them all about our treatment of my husband, and they were keen to meet him. It was decided that we would have dinner at their place one Friday night, and stay over. When we arrived, Rachel and Amy greeted me warmly, and ignored Michael. Rachel was 40, a little older than me, and very attractive. She was perhaps a little overweight now, but with a very sexy, curvy figure. Amy was stunningly pretty, tall, with large breasts and a prominent ass. We sat down to dinner almost immediately. Michael, who had been very nervous about coming, told Rachel he was not hungry, and declined any food. “So,” Rachel said, as we began eating. “My Tony is having to do your job in the bedroom with your wife Michael. Why is that?” “Because he has a tiny dick,” I cut in. “And he doesn’t even know how to use that!” Amy sniggered, and Rachel laughed out loud. The meal continued, with Tony regularly turning to me to give me a kiss, or stroking my arm or y thigh. “It looks as though your wife is going to be well fucked tonight,” laughed Amy. “Will you be jerking off at the thought of it?” “Oh no,” I told her. “His little cock has been locked up for the last three months, he can’t get any relief.” “Really?” she asked. “That’s great! Do you tease him?” “All the time,” I grinned. “Good,” she replied. “Any man who can’t keep his wife satisfied deserves to be permanently frustrated.” “As you are not eating,” Rachel interrupted. “Why don’t you get under the table, and use your tongue to get your wife nice and wet for my boy?” Michael glanced at me, and I indicated for him to get down. He knelt before me, and pulled down my panties. He then began to lick me slowly as we continued our meal. By the end of it, I was so horny that I suggested Tony and I go straight upstairs. “Good idea,” said Rachel. “Your husband will keep us both entertained, I am sure.” We went upstairs, and I had a fantastic night in bed with Tony, completely forgetting about my husband. In the morning, Tony woke me gently, and gave me my fourth helping of cock. After we had finished, he told me he would go down and get Michael to come and clean me up. My husband came up a little later, looking very tired and a little ill. He got between my legs without a word, and sucked me clean of Tony’s cum before returning downstairs. I had a quick shower, and went down for breakfast. “Your husband is not eating,” remarked Rachel. “Perhaps it’s because of all the cum he has just eaten,” I suggested, smiling. Rachel and Amy grinned at each other. “Maybe,” said Amy, with a wicked smile. We said our goodbyes, and set off for home. Michael was especially quiet on the way home, and still looked a little nauseous. When we got in, I sat him down and asked what had happened with the two women the previous evening. He said he did not want to talk about it, but I insisted. “Well,” he began. “After you went upstairs to er,” “To get fucked Michael,” I emphasised. “I went upstairs to get fucked by my lover, something you will never experience again!” “Well anyway,” he went on dejectedly. “Rachel insisted we all get naked. Then Amy stood up, put her arms round me and pressed her naked body against me. She asked me if I wanted to fuck her.” “And did you?” I enquired. “Yes,” he replied. “But I knew she would not let me.” I laughed out loud. Then they both sat on the sofa, and told me to get on my knees and clean their feet with my mouth. It was awful; they had been barefoot all day walking round the house and in the garden. Their feet were filthy, and they would not let me stop until they were spotless, including in between their toes. At the end, my mouth was dry, and I had a horrible taste in it, so I asked for a drink. Amy said certainly, and had me sit on the floor. Then she stood with her pussy over my mouth, and ordered me to open wide. As I did so, she let go a powerful stream of piss into my mouth and down my throat.” “You drank her piss?” I exclaimed, warming to his story. “Yes,” he replied. “I was gagging and choking, but she did not stop until I had swallowed it all. Then Rachel took her place and pissed what seemed like a gallon into my mouth.” “I like these women!” I squealed. “What happened next?”porn story“Then I had to concentrate on their pussies with my tongue. They kept me going until they both had orgasms. My jaw was aching like hell.” “Were you really frustrated, licking those pussies?” I asked. “Of course,” he replied. “It was unbearable.” “Good, good,” I said. “Then what?” “Well then,” he explained. They knelt on the sofa and pushed out their asses. I was made to spend the next hour alternately licking out their none too clean assholes, it was disgusting. And then……….” “Then what?” I demanded impatiently. “Then they lay me on the floor, and one after the other, they shit in my mouth and made me eat it.” “You’re kidding!” I yelled. “Oh my goodness, I wish I had seen that!” “So you see why I am not feeling so good,” my husband explained. “Do you mind if I have a lie down?” “Of course not,” I said. “But before you do, why don’t you get undressed and lay in the bath?” “Why?” he asked. “Well if you can act as a toilet for women you hardly know, you can certainly eat your wife’s shit.” I told him. “Please Rosemary,” he begged. “I really do feel sick.” “Get in the bath Michael,” I ordered sternly. “I promise you are going to feel a lot sicker very soon!” I walked upstairs a few minutes later to see my wimp of a husband lying naked in the bath. I smiled expectantly, as I Peeled off my panties. “I don’t know why I never thought of this myself,” I remarked to my husband. “Shitting in your mouth is the perfect way of showing you exactly what I think of you.” I climbed into the bath, and pushed my ass to within an inch of his face. “Open up Michael,” I commanded. “I am really going to enjoy this!” I strained for a moment or two, and then felt a good-sized turd slide out of me and into my husband’s mouth. I turned to see the log half in and half out, and forced the whole thing in with my fingers. “Eat my shit, Michael,” I ordered him. “Get used to the taste of it, you are going to swallow every bit of it in future!” I watched his screwed up face as he struggled to chew and swallow the big log I had given him, taunting him all the time, and telling him to hurry as I had another big log waiting. I dropped the second log on to his chest, and made him hold it as he ate it piece by piece. When he finally got the second turd down, I had him lick my ass clean, then placed my pussy over his mouth. “Ready for your first drink of my piss?” I laughed, as I let go a stream of yellow pee into his mouth. As soon as I had finished, he leapt out of the bath, and stuck his head down the toilet bowl, vomiting violently. I left the bathroom smiling, knowing I was really going to enjoy using him this way every day. Chapter 2 So from that day on, Michael became my permanent toilet slave, swallowing all of my waste. If I needed to take a shit while he was at work, he would find it waiting for him in the toilet on his return home. On a number of occasions, after I had watched him with his head down the toilet, eating up my earlier shit, I surprised him by removing my panties and giving him a big fresh load. That seemed to spoil his evening meal somehow! I had at this point kept my activities with Michael secret from the children, although they were both well aware who was the boss in our house from the way I spoke to their father. Candy, who had always been my favourite, was approaching 18 at the time. She was growing up beautifully. Like me, she was a brunette, with long hair covering her pretty face. At 6′, she was slightly taller than me, and towered over her father. She had a superb figure, with large firm breasts, and had inherited my shapely legs. I knew she had no respect for her father, she took no notice of what he said, and listened only to me. I was pretty sure she would approve of Michael’s treatment, and would probably be delighted to join in. Adam on the other hand, was growing up just like his father. He was then just 17, small and weedy, and was becoming a whining little wimp. I was determined that when he reached 18, he would suffer the same fate as his father, only more so. On the morning of Candy’s 18th birthday, I sat her down and explained exactly what was going on between her father and myself. She was delighted that I had a lover, she was pretty sure Michael could not possibly satisfy me. She was even happier that I kept my husband in a permanent state of frustration, as she thought he should suffer. It was when I told her of the toilet activities that her mouth dropped open. “Really?” she said incredulously. “You make him drink your piss and eat your shit? Oh that is terrific! Please let me do it to him Mom, I want to shit in his wimpy mouth, just like you do!” “Of course you can,” I answered. “Starting today. I thought you would want to join me, so this is why we are having this talk. If you can hold your shit until your father gets home, we will surprise him tonight.” “You bet!” she exclaimed. Michael arrived home at about 6, and Candy was bursting. I whispered in his ear to get in the bath and wait for me. On the way to the bathroom, I collected Candy, who was waiting in her short night-dress. As we entered the bathroom, Michael looked up, and was horrified to see his daughter standing there. “What is going on?” he enquirepetite young girl porn “Your little girl has grown up Daddy,” Candy replied. “I am a woman now, and as you act as a woman’s toilet in this house, it is time I started using you!” “No,” pleaded my husband. “This is not right!” “It is entirely right,” argued Candy, as she stepped in the bath and straddled her father’s head. “You are going to be my toilet as well as Mom’s, so open wide I want to fill your sissy mouth with my soft smelly shit for the first time!” Knowing he had no choice, Michael opened his mouth ready to receive his daughter’s shit. She farted two or three times in his face, to his humiliation, and this made her start to giggle. When she composed herself, she pushed her ass close to Michael’s mouth. “Here it comes Daddy, get ready to eat your little girl’s shit!” A huge dark brown log emerged from her ass, and into her father’s mouth. She turned to watch him. “Look at him Mom.” She sneered. “Have you ever seen such a poor excuse for a man? Cuckolded by his wife, the only thing he is good for is eating his wife and daughter’s shit! I’d like to choke the pathetic bastard with it.” Michael’s face was bright red at her scornful comments, as he struggled to chew the log she had dropped in his mouth. When he swallowed it, she got back in place, and gave him a second, smaller turd. She followed this with a healthy dose of piss, before making him lick her clean front and back. “Get used to the taste Daddy,” she taunted. “You are going to be under my ass eating shit every day from now on!” Then she and I left the room arm an arm. “Oh Mom,” she exclaimed. “That was great, I want to do that to Adam as well.” “You will dear,” I replied. “We both will, but we will wait until he is 18 too. In the meantime, enjoy abusing and degrading your Daddy!” “I will,” she responded. “But I think he should be made to eat a lot more shit than just hours. Couldn’t we get more women to join in?” “Who do you suggest?” I asked. “Well, Grandma for a start,” she replied. “You know what she thinks of Daddy. And Aunt Jane your sister, and her daughter cousin Fiona. I tell you who else, Daddy’s sister Mary. The only reason she doesn’t visit is because of the way he treated her when they were kids. I” sure if she knew what we were doing she would love to get her revenge.” “You could be right,” I responded enthusiastically. “We could invite them all for the weekend. Your father could spend the whole two days eating only shit and drinking only piss!” “Oh yes,” she squealed. “Let’s do it!” I phoned all the women, and was amazed at how enthusiastic they all were when I explained what I had in mind, particularly Mary, who had waited for years for a chance to get back at her brother. It was arranged that they would come on the following Friday. I did not tell Michael about it, I would let it be a big surprise for him. So there we all sat at the dinner table. There was Mom. 59, grey haired and a little plump, but still a looker. Strong willed too, just like me. Sister Jane, who had recently dyed her hair blonde, which really suited her. Two years younger than me, a little shorter and more buxom she still attracted a lot of male attention following her divorce. Next to her, her 17 year old daughter Fiona. Everyone in the family remarked how much she looked like Brittany Spears, and she too attracts boys like flies. I knew from my sister that she had been sexually active for the last couple of years. That left Mary, Michael’s sister. She was six years younger than Michael, a pretty woman who disguised the fact with her thick spectacles and severe pulled back hairstyle. She had made no attempt to be nice to Michael when she arrived. Both Candy and I had used Michael an hour before our guests arrived, so I knew he would not want anything to eat. As we all settled down, Mom was the first to speak. Rosemary has told us all Michael,” she began. “That you are giving toilet service to both her and Candy. She thought that as all of us despise you, we might enjoy a piss and shit weekend at your expense. Naturally, we all jumped at the opportunity, and for the next two days you will be used by all of us.” “You can’t be serious!” whined my husband. “Oh yes she is,” snapped his sister. “Every piece of shit, every drop of piss that we release is going into your mouth. We are going to make you so sick, this is going to be the best weekend of my life, watching you suffer!” After dinner, I ordered Michael to strip naked, telling him he was going to be that way all weekend. This embarrassed him greatly in front of all the women, but he knew better than to complain. When he was naked, Fiona noticed the cock cage, and I explained to her about his permanent celibacy. “Oh you poor man!” she said, without a hint of sympathy Before we knew it, she had slipped off her dress, revealing her skimpy black underwear. She looked absolutely gorgeous, with her firm white tits trying to burst out of her bra. She sat on my husband’s lap, put her arms around him and began kissing him passionately. I knew this was increasing the frustration he already felt, by the agitated look on his face. “She is a terrible cock teaser,” laughed her mother. “The number of boys she has driven wild!” “I tell you what,” I said to Fiona, as I unlocked Michael’s cock cage. “Why don’t you take your uncle upstairs for a while, and let him appreciate your naked body?” Fiona was delighted to comply, and led my husband upstairs by the hand. The rest of us chatted and drank for the next hour or so, and then the lounge door opened to reveal my naked husband and niece. He was in a terrible state, tears of frustration running down his face, and his little cock still throbbing wildly. “I told you,” said my sister proudly. “Look at the job she has done on him, he is in agony!” The rest of us laughed, and gave the young minx a spontaneous round of applause. “Can I shit in his mouth now Aunt Rosemary?” Fiona asked me. “Of course you can dear,” I replied. “You have earned it!” I put a rubber mat in the middle of the room so that we could all watch, and Fiona ordered her uncle to lie on his back. She squatted over his face, and quickly filled his mouth with shit as we all applauded. For all the shit he had eaten, it was not getting any easier for Michael, as we noted by the look of disgust on his face. We all laughed at him as he forced down Fiona” shit. By a happy coincidence, all four of our guests were ready to shit at the same time. So as soon as Fiona got up, her mother added her stinking load. Then my Mom presented her substantial as to my husband’s face, and let go her offering. By this time, my husband was more than full. He looked up and saw his sister standing over him. “Please sis,” he begged her. “I honestly can’t take any more!” “Don’t sis me you piece of crap,” she sneered, kicking him viciously in the side. “I have waited a long time for my revenge, and you are going to eat my shit no matter what, and you had better keep it down!” She emptied her bowel into his mouth, and watched with a smile as he chewed on the turd she had given him. It took him a long time, and try as he might he could not hold it down. He vomited violently over the mat. This annoyed Mary, and she kicked him savagely half a dozen times with her high-heeled shoes. Over the next couple of days, each of us women used my husband countless times, and he spent a lot of time being sick. As if that were not bad enough, he cried many more tears of frustration. When he was not being used as a toilet, one or other of the women made lick their feet, pussies, asses or tits. As I left his cage off, he spent most of the weekend with an unsatisfied erection. Believe me, it was wonderful to watch! The weekend finished with all the women promising that Michael would be seeing a lot more of them, and his sister spitting in his face. Chapter 3 Before we knew it, Adam’s 18th birthday had come around. Candy was really excited, because she had been looking forward to introducing her brother to the taste of her shit. Even the not very bright Adam had noticed that she had become more arrogant and aggressive towards him on the run up to his birthday. On the evening of his birthday, Adam was surprised to see me come into his room wearing only my short night-dress. I took his hand, and told him to follow me. As we entered the bathroom, his face dropped as he saw his father lying naked in the bath with his equally naked sister sitting on a small, custom made toilet seat just an inch above his face. “Happy birthday little brother,” she smiled at him. “Tonight your life is going to change big time!” “What’s going on?” asked Adam, looking more than a little scared. “Candy is about to use your father’s mouth as a shit hole,” I explained. “Just as she and I do every day. I want you to watch this so that you can see how it is going to be for you from now on. After Candy has finished with your father, you are going to take his place and eat my shit. I think you should taste your mother’s shit first. In future of course, you will be eating your sister’s as well.” “You’d better believe it!” added Candy. “Watch and learn little brother!” With that, she proceeded to fill her father’s mouth with her shit, as her brother looked on with horror and disgust. When her full load had been dropped and eaten, and her father’s mouth filled with piss, she jumped out of the bath. “Kneel down Adam,” she ordered. “And I will give you an idea what it is going to be like.” With my instruction to do as she said, Adam sank to his knees. Candy first made him lick up the last few drops of piss from her pussy, then turned her back and leant forward. “Now spread my ass cheeks, and lick up the remains of shit,” she instructed. Adam leaned forward, and tentatively licked at the shit, gagging immediately. “I can’t do that,” he wailed. “It’s disgusting!” “Don’t be a baby,” I admonished him. “What you are going to get in a few moments will be far more disgusting. Now lick that shit from your sister’s ass!” Adam licked it all up, gagging repeatedly. Michael got out of the bath, and slunk off to the bedroom. I ordered Adam to lie down in the bath. “Please don’t make me do this Mom,” he whined. “I just can’t eat shit, it’s too awful!” I told him to shut up, as I put the toilet seat over his face and sat down. Instructing him to open wide, I began to drop his first ever turd into his mouth. “Here it comes little brother,” laughed Candy. “Enjoy!”taboo sex storiesAdam retched as the foul turd hit his tongue. He moaned as I forced the whole thing into his mouth and told him to eat it. I thought several times that he would throw up, but he finally managed to get it down. I gave him another large one followed by a bladderful of piss. He managed to swallow it, but it was all too much and he vomited over his chest. I told him to clean up and go to bed. I also added that Candy and I would expect him to keep our shit down much better in future, so he had better learn fast. A few days later, I arranged at Candy’s suggestion to have Adam’s cock locked up, to prevent him jerking off and keep him frustrated just like his father. At about the same time, Candy mentioned to me a friend of hers, Angel, who worked in a local restaurant as a waitress. “She is a real arrogant, dominant bitch,” Candy told me. “She would be perfect to deal with Adam, maybe even be the perfect wife for him!” “That’s interesting,” I replied. “Let’s go to the restaurant with Adam, and I can check her out.” So next day, Candy Adam and I found ourselves in the restaurant. Angel came over to take our order. She was a beautiful young girl of 18, with long, jet-black hair, ample tits and long strong legs. I guessed she was about the same height as Candy. The two of them said hello, and Candy introduced me. I liked her immediately. “Who’s the sissy boy?” asked Angel, not mincing her words. “My wimp brother,” explained Candy, as Adam’s face reddened. “Looks like a real limp dick to me,” Angel went on. “You got that right!” agreed Candy, and the three of us laughed. We told Angel what Candy and I wanted to eat and drink. “What about sissy boy?” she replied. “Is he not eating?” “Oh Mom and I will be feeding him later,” Candy told her. “How do you mean?” she enquired. Candy lifted her ass and pointed to it. “You’re kidding me!” Angel exclaimed. “Boy, would I love to see that!” “What time do you finish?” I asked her. “In about twenty minutes,” she told me. “Well why don’t you come back with us,” I suggested. “Maybe you could help us feed him.” “You are on!” Angel squealed. “I’ll get your order. Are you sure he is not going to have something?” “Well maybe something to drink,” I suggested. “Can you recommend anything?” I had a twinkle in my eye, which she spotted. “Yes I can,” she said knowingly. “Back shortly.” She came back a couple of minutes later, with a huge glass full of a familiar looking cloudy yellow liquid, which she put in front of my son. “It’s not all mine,” she explained. “I got some help from Julia and Bridget in the kitchen. Let me see you drink it up sissy boy, while it’s still warm.” Adam picked up the glass, and managed to down the lot in four attempts, gagging violently after each one. He shivered with distaste as he put the glass down. “If you think that was bad,” Angel said, as she picked up the glass. “Wait until I have got you under my ass later on!” With that, she spat in Adam’s face and went to collect our food order. When we got back to our place, and settled in the lounge, the very confident Angel asked if she could have some fun with Adam. I said sure, whatever she liked. She slipped off her panties, pulled her dress up to her waist, revealing her thick black bush, and sat on the sofa. “Kneel down here boy,” she ordered Adam. “I could do with some pussy licking.” I could see by the look on Adam’s face that he had never done this before, and that he found the idea repulsive. He hesitated, and Angel grabbed his hair and pulled his face between her smooth white thighs. “Start licking boy,” she commanded. “And make it good!” Adam began licking, not knowing what he was doing. Angel was not pleased, and kept giving him commands. These were each punctuated by a lifting of his head, and a savage slap to the face. To Candy’s and my amusement, his cheeks were soon a deep shade of red. I got up to get some drinks from the kitchen, and Candy followed me. “She is fantastic isn’t she?” she remarked. “She certainly is,” I agreed. “I think we may just have found his future wife!” As we returned, Angel was slapping Adam again, just as my husband entered the room from the other side. With an uncharacteristic stern tone, he asked Angel what the hell was going on. With a face like thunder, Angel pushed Adam to the floor, and jumped to her feet. Putting her hands on my unsuspecting husband’s shoulders, she brought her powerful young knee savagely up into his balls. The pleasing scream of agony that came from him told me that she had hit her target perfectly, and Candy sniggered as she watched her father drop to the floor clutching his damaged nuts. Angel was not finished however. She pushed Michael on to his back, and put her bare foot on his face to prevent him rising. “If you ever question me again,” she yelled. “I will get your wife and daughter to hold your legs apart while I kick your miserable little balls to a pulp. Do you understand?” “Yes,” he mumbled from under her foot. “Now get out!” she yelled. It was hilarious to watch the so-called man of the house scramble painfully to his feet, and run out of the door in fear of the teenage girl. “I hope I didn’t go too far with your husband,” she said to me. “Not at all,” I assured her. “I loved watching you hurt him, I don’t know why we haven’t treated him the same way.” “I think we will in future,” added Candy, with a wicked grin. Angel went back to Adam who was now sitting on the floor. “Come here you fucking little sissy,” she cried, roughly pulling his head back between her legs. “Get your tongue back in my cunt!” The three of us drank and chatted while Adam carried on licking her, getting a few more slaps along the way. When she was finally satisfied, she lifted his head and asked him if he had ever done any French kissing. “A little,” he replied. “Good,” Angel went on. “Because you are going to French kiss my asshole!” She turned her back, and thrust her ass in my son’s face. She told him to push his tongue in as far as he could, and get a taste of her. She kept him at this for several minutes. “Oh I am going to give you so much shit in a minute,” she told him. “I am going to fill your sissy mouth with it, and make you eat it all!” Eventually, Angel told Adam to stop, and lay on his back on the floor. She knelt beside him. “I think a little starter before the main course,” she said. “Open wide.” She filled her mouth with saliva, and spat right into Adam’s mouth. She repeated this a couple of times, and then put her face very close to his. She then proceeded, one by one, to empty the snot out of each nostril on to his tongue. I laughed to see him retch, as the slimy stuff slid down his throat. I was learning from this young girl by the minute! “Main course now,” she whispered, as she squatted over his mouth. She shit in his mouth as though she had been doing it for years, and then instructed him to chew and eat it all, while taunting him for being such a sissy ass licking shit eater. When she had finished giving him what turned out to be a very large load, I got up, removed my panties and stood over my son. “Well, does Angel’s shit taste as good as Candy’s and mine?” I asked him. “It all tastes absolutely foul,” he winced. “Oh good,” I responded. “I would hate to think you were enjoying this!” I took my place, and gave Adam another hefty load. So much so, that he was begging for mercy before I had finished. And he hadn’t had Candy’s offering yet! When Candy did get up, and slip off her panties, Adam tried to reason with her. “Please sis, Angel and Mom have given me so much,” he pleaded. “I just don’t have any more room!” “Then you had better make room,” Candy answered cruelly. “Or would you rather I stood you up and got Angel to do what she did to Daddy earlier, only twice as hard?” “Alright,” sai

For as far back as I can remember, I had a crush on my cousin. When I was about eighteen…

This story is a work of fiction, purely a fantasy. If you are offended by fantasy descriptions of rough nonconsensual sex, torture, or the ingestion of a wide range of bodily fluids, you should not read this story, nor should you read it if you are under 18 years of age. The story was written for White Shadow’s Nasty Stories. The holder of copyright– gives readers his permission to copy the story, but only if this disclaimer is copied as well. Butterflies. Butterflies in her stomach. A pretty thought, but not really what she felt like. No: when Trinh woke up it was 4 am, the middle of the night still, her stomach in knots, and her hands shaking. Not butterflies, more like some small animal — much larger and more powerful than a butterfly, with sharp teeth and claws — was trapped inside her belly and was trying to tear its way out. No way she could get back to sleep now. She went to the bathroom, washed her face, then she sat on the side of the tub and listened to the water run. She started to cry, not much, a tear or two, but she was upset. I shouldn’t do this, I shouldn’t do this, she kept saying to herself. But she felt like it was too late to back out. Plus, all the reasons she’d persuaded herself to do it in the first place were still there, still good reasons. I mean, the money, the money was incredible — $5000, for what, maybe two hours work, more like ninety minutes — that was insane, how could she pass that up? A friend of hers had had a spinal tap — can you imagine? — a spinal tap done at one of those medical study places, Pharmco or whatever it was — and she’d only made $4000. $4000! For a spinal tap! And here was $5000 just waiting, no pain, no work at all — just masturbating for an hour and a half while some sleazy guy taped it– very embarrassing, sure, and what if people — like her parents, oh God! — found out about it later. Ray, the guy who wanted her to make the tape, promised he’d only make one copy of the tape — for himself, the original went to a wealthy private collector. Trinh didn’t really believe this, figured at least a few copies would be distributed somehow — she just hoped not too widely. But really, $5000 dollars was a lot of money. She laughed and told herself that this was it, after today she’d never be able to get through the confirmation hearings, if she ever got nominated to the Supreme Court or something. She was giggling now, thinking of the headlines “First Vietnamese-American Supreme Court Nominee Admits Making Solo Porn Tape.” Well, goodbye to all that, Trinh thought, I’ll have to content myself with a lucrative but ignoble life in the private sector. She was laughing, feeling better. Still giggling as she gingerly lowered her little body into the steaming water. Ray looked at her picture again. She was what, 19, 20 — hard to believe she was that old, even. She looked like a kid, she could have been 13 or 14, a big smile and a sweet face, lovely jet black hair, her chest quite flat, narrow hips, what might have been called a lithe body except she was so short, not even five feet — a classic Vietnamese look, although supposedly she was half Chinese or something. A smart girl too — “a prestigious college in New England,” the card said, well, that could mean a lot of places, although he was pretty sure she lived no more than two or three hours from Boston — probably nervous as hell right now, but trying to congratulate herself on being so brave. Well, he chuckled to himself; little Miss Ivy League Asian Good Girl was in over her head this time, however brave she thought she was being. These specialty jobs were always the sweetest, $25,000 with some expenses covered to shoot six hours of videotape, the girl had to meet certain specs, a number of required acts, but really it was pretty easy. He’d hire a thuggish buddy of his to help out, pay him a couple thousand at most, a second cameraman, another couple thousand or so, the girl got a thousand up front as bait–she would never see any more money than that — so he ought to make close to $20,000 for this. And you couldn’t really call it work, either. Too much fun for that. Four foot eleven, and about ninety pounds. Just a little tiny slip of a girl. It was going to be enormous fun, stretching her out, and making her scream. Sitting on the T, her hands clutched tight to the bag in her lap, Trinh tried to think of $5000 and nothing else. $5000. No point now in worrying about how she got herself into this, it was happening, she was on her way, she couldn’t back out now. She needed the money; she had expenses her parents couldn’t understand. They were so sweet, but so strict; they wanted to manage every facet of her life and until Trinh had some money of her own, she was at their mercy. She was an adult now, and they would never understand that. Fuck, she said to herself — Trinh almost never cursed out loud, she really was prim in most ways, and she looked it, but in her head she swore and cursed and had the most dirty thoughts, she was a freak in her head, that’s probably why she’d agreed to do this — fuck, she said to herself, why am thinking about my parents? That’s not going to get me in the right mood. She closed her eyes, tried to relax. She thought of what she often did when she masturbated, two men, much larger than her, forcing her to the ground, holding her legs apart, pushing dirty fingers inside her… it was all kind of shadowy, the men hazy, just dim male shapes really, the pain kind of abstract. At first Trinh saw herself from the outside, from above, as they grabbed her and held her… but as it went on it became more real, the hands on her body, she could almost feel them, even sitting there on the T, clutching her bag, she could almost feel them holding her open, penetrating her vagina, her CUNT — she made herself think CUNT, you have a CUNT, Trinh, not a pussy or a clinical vagina, a CUNT, I have a hungry CUNT between my legs — and then the men in her head were calling her cunt, slut, whore, and then a penis, a large one, a BIG COCK was forcing its way inside, violently stretching her cunt, she was bleeding, screaming… She was shivering, shaking with desire, very wet already, sitting there on the T, feeling the dampness in her panties. That one always worked, the violent ones always got to her, other fantasies were just pictures, dry papery pictures in her head, but the violent ones somehow always came alive, felt real… made her come. Trinh was shy; she had trouble coming, trouble letting go, even with herself. She was late to begin masturbating, had been a virgin when she got to college. Barely not a virgin now, really, truthfully. God, she was going to have to think about all kinds of horrible stuff today if she was going to make herself come in front of that sleazy guy with his video camera. She took out the “script” — that sounded so silly, there weren’t any words, but what else to call it? — and went over the scenes again. Four scenes, between 20 minutes and half an hour each. The first was Trinh lying back on the bed slowly fingering herself; the next was Trinh playing with a little vibrator — not the kind you insert, just one that buzzed away on her clit — while sitting on the toilet. That was the one she dreaded. Ray had offered her an extra $500 to pee on camera, but she wouldn’t do it, not even for $1000. God, it was going to be hard masturbate sitting with her legs open on the toilet, using a vibrator was going to be strange enough. Then in the third scene she was back on the bed, with a big–well, big for Trinh, anyway–dildo, pushing it in deep. Finally she was to lie face down on the bed and hump a pillow, rubbing it between her legs until she came. Trinh had never masturbated that way, and it was awkward, when she had tried it a few nights ago, it took some getting used to, but she thought she could probably handle it. Oh God she was really dreading this. And Ray wanted her to try to talk as dirty as she could through the whole thing too. She had told him that she was too shy, that she had trouble saying bad words and stuff, but he said for her to try, if she was shy and embarrassed by talking dirty that would come across to the camera and that would be even hotter. It had made her embarrassed just to hear Ray say that! But she’d said she would try, try to talk as filthy as she could. She didn’t want to do this thing half-assed, she’d told him, and then giggled. That’s my girl, Ray had said in his soft southern accent, smiling at her.porn taboo storiesShe got off the T and walked the few blocks to the address Ray had given her, the thick moisture a little uncomfortable between her legs. It was a nice old house, a fancy one, in Newton. This was a little surprising. She checked the address again, made sure: apparently she had the right place. There was no bell; she timidly knocked on the door. After a few seconds, she knocked again, much harder. Ray opened the door, looking friendly but serious. He asked her politely if she was still ready to do this, everything they’d talked about before, and Trinh whispered a shy “yes.” Ray broke into a big smile, he was like a little boy, Trinh thought, a little boy getting to see a girl take her clothes off for the first time. Ray led her into the house, to a large bedroom and Trinh was caught off guard: there were two guys already in the room, one was fiddling with a camera and the other was just lounging like a slob in a chair. Trinh hadn’t counted on having to masturbate in front of anyone other than Ray. “Ray,” she said softly, “who are they?” The cameraman was not old — maybe thirty — but he looked like he’d let a rough life. He was paunchy, kind of oily looking, with longish greasy hair and bad skin. He was just the sort you’d expect to be filming a video like this. The other guy was similar but worse, taller, fatter, dirtier, meaner-looking. “Just relax, Trinh, everything’s fine, OK, just like we agreed. C.J. here is a cameraman, he’s done a lot of these tapes, he’s better than I am. I’m going to run the second camera when we use that, OK. And Dan back here, well, he just wants to watch, it’s true, but because if he likes what you do for us today, he might be able to get you lots more work like this… could be a pretty good deal for you, Trinh, and since you were so emphatic about me making no copies of the tape we make today, I figured he’d have to come along, you know, to get some idea what you’re like… it’s really not a big deal, Trinh…” Ray put his hand low on Trinh’s back and kind of guided her to the bed. Ooooh, his hand felt creepy, Trinh shivered and wondered how she was ever going to make it through the next few hours. She sat on the edge of the bed and said, “OK, Ray. An extra cameraman I understand, but some guy just checking me out while I do this? Come on, Ray. That’s worth another thousand dollars, I think.” Oh God she was so proud of herself for insisting on more money, it was so assertive and in control, not at all like the meek prim little Trinh that she was sick of always being. “You’re right, Trinh, you’re absolutely right, he shouldn’t get it for free, another let’s say, $500, that should be enough, shouldn’t it, what do you say, Trinh?” Ray was eager to start, she could tell, and the slobby guy, what was his name, Dan, he just kind of shrugged nonchalantly, so Trinh said, in the coolest voice she could manage, “I said $1000, Ray. $1000, or I walk or he walks.” Oh God she hoped that sounded as tough and cool as she wanted it to sound. Again the guy shrugged and Ray said, “That’s fine Trinh, OK, $1000 extra for Dan to watch, great. You’re pretty shrewd, Trinh, not as much of a kid as you look, you can tell I really want to make this movie with you. It’s going to be great. Are you nervous?” “No,” Trinh said, and then she started to laugh. “I’m lying, Ray. I’m super nervous.” “Excited though, right, still excited?” he said, “Because you look so wonderful and you’re just so sexy that I’m sure it’ll be great, a lot of fun.” A faint little mechanical sound, and a red light lit up: tape was rolling, she was being videotaped now, and the point of no return was past. “Yeah,” Trinh said bashfully. “I’m excited.” “Are you wet already, Trinh?” She looked down, away from Ray, but then made herself look up, right at the camera. “Yeah,” she said as firmly as she could, “Yes, I’m very wet right now. My… my cunt is very wet.” Her face felt hot, she was extremely embarrassed, but she had done it, talked dirty on camera. It could only get easier now. “What are you going to do for us today, Trinh? Are you going to show us that wet little pussy of yours?” “Yes,” she said. “I’m going to… to masturbate, you know, make myself come… with you… watching.” Stop being so shy, she told herself forcefully. “I’m going to stick my fingers in my wet little hole for you.” Ooooh her face was hot and flushed now, but that was better, be dirty, talk dirty, Trinh, she told herself. “Will you take off your clothes for us now Trinh?” Trinh stood and peeled off her tee shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her dark little nipples stuck out like hard little knots from her flat chest. She unbuttoned her silk pants, pulled them half way down. Ray was nodding appreciatively. She could not look at the other men, or at the camera; she stayed focused on Ray. She sat back on the edge of the bed and unfastened her shoes, pulled them off, then her socks, then her pants. All she had on now was a little pair of black cotton panties. The black was a good choice, she was pretty confident the huge wet spot was not visible. “The panties too?” she asked. Ray nodded and she wiggled out of them. “Spread your legs, please, Trinh,” Ray said hoarsely. She was embarrassed but she made herself do it, opening her thin little legs as wide as she could. She hadn’t shaved down there; her pubic hair wasn’t much anyway. She guessed that Ray had probably wanted her to shave: she knew one reason they’d probably picked her to do this tape was that she was so small and young-looking, like a little girl. That kind of sickened Trinh a bit and made her angry too — everyone always thought she was so much younger than she was — so she didn’t shave, didn’t want to play their game. Ray hadn’t asked, anyway, so he couldn’t really have expected her to shave anyway: she wasn’t a porn star, shaving her pussy wasn’t something she did. “Your cunt fur is very nice Trinh,” Ray said like he was reading her mind, “so dark and sparse, I love it, it’s lovely.” Wow, that made her feel strange, hearing him say that, but she managed to keep her legs wide open. “Get in close,” Ray said to the cameraman, “make sure you can see how wet she is.” Trinh felt dizzy, hearing that. She lightly touched her lips and felt that yes, she was so wet, it was probably easily visible to the camera. She was soupy and goopy and sloppy-wet down there, all right. She felt feverish; her face was blushing so hot. She always got so wet; so wet it made her self-conscious. She had sometimes watched in a mirror while she fingered herself, and she was always amazed, watching the tremendous gush of syrupy fluid flow out as she rubbed herself. “Trinh how often do you masturbate?” “A couple of times a week, I guess, on average,” Trinh said. “How do you masturbate? Tell us.” Ray had started to leer a little bit when he said this. He was looking into her eyes then down at her cunt. Trinh’s pussy was opening up a little, by itself; her hands were still at her sides. “I…” she stuttered a little, “I… well, I use my fingers, mostly. I have a dildo but I don’t use it much.” “Do you ever use a vibrator, Trinh?” “No.” “Do you play with your asshole as well as your pussy, Trinh, when you masturbate?” “Sometimes.” That was a big secret. She’d always pretended to be turned off by the idea of anal sex and anal insertion of any kind the few times it had come up, either when her boyfriend mentioned it or when talking about sex with other girls. But she did sometimes push a finger — or more commonly, the handle of a hairbrush — up inside her tiny little asshole when she rubbed her pussy. “What do you use, I mean, how do you play with your dirty little asshole, Trinh, when you play with it?” “I… I sometimes push a hairbrush handle, you know, inside me back there… it feels really dirty and snug and filled up…” “What sort of fantasies do you have Trinh? When you masturbate? What helps you have the biggest orgasms?” “It’s too private to talk about,” Trinh whispered. “Well Trinh when you start masturbating for us in a few minutes what will be running through that pretty sweet head of yours? Don’t be shy: please tell us.” “I have… a lot of very… you know, very violent fantasies… rape fantasies I guess… I think about that sometimes,” she was barely audible. “Say that again, Trinh, what sort of fantasies?” Ray asked. More loudly she said, “Rape fantasies. Violent and disgusting ones.” “Really Trinh? Why don’t you tell us about one of these rape fantasies of yours while you masturbate for us?” Trinh positioned herself more comfortably on the bed and began rubbing a finger gently in circles around her clit, then sneaking down and playing with her lips, pressing a finger a little way inside her vagina. Starting slowly — but she was already so wet, so hot, so ready. It wouldn’t take much to make her come the first time. “I just you know think about men grabbing me, holding me down, forcing their big cocks into me, into my mouth and cunt and asshole, cocks too big for my body, you know,” this was hard to say, but it was making her pussy throb and itch to say it, “cocks that you know kinda split me open, make me… bleed I guess, huge cocks raping my little body…” “Is that what you’re thinking about now Trinh? Big cocks tearing up your tender little holes…”father son fuck step mom“Yeah,” she said, “a big man forcing his big dirty cock deep inside me, hurting me, making me scream and cry, making me bleed…” She was working her finger hard on her clit now and pressing a finger rapidly in and out of her cunt too, pushing herself, it was making her so hot to talk this way. “More than I can take, just raping me, raping me, forcing me to take his cock…” Her breathing was getting ragged, her pussy was tingling and pulsing and she was getting close, getting close… “Go ahead Trinh, make yourself come, thinking about being raped, hurt by huge cocks, monstrous hard cocks forced inside you, tearing you open…” It didn’t take much more, a couple of quick hard little circles right on her clit and she was coming, squealing and flopping and writhing on the bed, fingers buried deep inside her wetness, her clit just pulsating like it would explode… she lay back and closed her eyes and moaned and moaned, lost in her pleasure, so nice, so intense, rippling through her body in powerful waves, her toes were tingling, mmmmmmm… And then she felt hands grabbing her still quivering body, Ray and the other guy were pinning her down, what was happening? Oh God no, no please, Trinh thought and began to scream. The two men held her. She was kicking fiercely but they were holding her arms immobile and were well out of range of her legs. She was screaming and kicking, wildly snapping at them with her mouth ineffectively between screams. The cameraman was filming the whole thing. One of the men, not Ray, the larger one, Dan was it? straddled Trinh and sat on her, crushing the breath out of her and pinning her to the mattress. She raised her knees as hard as she could, trying to knee him in the small of the back, near his kidneys, but she couldn’t manage much force, not with the man’s body pressing down on her so hard. The man held Trinh’s thin arms together above her head while the Ray began to wrap gray electrical tape tightly around Trinh’s wrists. When Dan leaned forward to pin Trinh’s bound wrists against the headboard, to tape them in place there, Trinh mustered her strength and managed to bite him on the neck, not very hard. He cursed, let go of Trinh’s taped hands for a second, held her head still with one hand, and drove his other fist into her nose. A short quick punch, without that much force behind it, but the pain was surprisingly intense. She was stunned. He drew back his fist again, then paused, opened his hand and slapped her hard. That took some of the fight out of her. She wasn’t struggling much now but she was still screaming, screaming as loud as she could. She was still half-heartedly trying to kick as Ray and Dan spread her legs wide apart, each man securing an ankle to a bedpost. She was really helpless now, spread open and bound, open to whatever these men wanted to do to her. She was crying now, still screaming too, hot tears running down her face as she screamed like a baby. “Let’s shut her up for a bit,” Ray said. He wadded up Trinh’s panties and shoved the wet black cotton mass into her mouth as she screamed, muting her. “Oooh that’s pretty,” the cameraman said, almost involuntarily, as he focused on Trinh’s tear-stained face, so fragile and lovely and helpless, stressed with pain and fear, the black panties crammed roughly into her mouth, which still made muffled little attempts to scream. “Work her tits a little, Dan,” Ray said. The man grinned and obliged, taking Trinh’s hard left nipple between thumb and forefinger and abruptly pinching very hard, and twisting. Trinh’s nipples were tiny and sensitive. She liked them to be pinched, hard; she could never get her boyfriend to do it hard enough. Sometimes when she masturbated, she put clothespins on her nipples and lately she’d taken to putting those little black binder-clips on them — God, they squeezed hard; it was all she could take. But this was much worse. He was pinching and twisting both nipples now, pulling her little tits away from her body, stretching them. Then he was biting her left nipple, God, so hard! He was drawing blood! Chewing hard on her nipple, tearing it like a piece of meat! Trinh closed her eyes, tried to close off her mind somehow, trying even to concentrate on the pain itself so she would not be tormented by fears of what would happen next. Things were just starting, she knew, everything would get so much worse before these men were done with her… so she just tried to focus on the pain itself, the spiky pain in her nipples. She felt something pushing inside her cunt, while the guy continued ripping her nipples with his teeth. It was small, a finger, probably. She tried to tighten up but it was already inside prodding her. It didn’t really hurt though, not like her nipple, which she could feel being scraped raw and lacerated and torn open by Dan’s teeth. All at once Dan stopped biting her; she opened her eyes to see the big dumb brute leering cheerfully at her, his stupid face smeared with her blood. It was sickening. He spat at her and a bit of flesh hit her face along with his bloody saliva. God, he had really bitten the tip of her nipple off! This was so terrible, so awful — she was trying to scream and she tried to look down at her ravaged little breasts, both nipples were badly torn, ragged looking, the left one still bleeding… Ray took his finger out of Trinh’s cunt and Dan lowered his mouth and quickly and expertly found her clit. He gripped it hard between his teeth and began to bite. This was worse, lots worse, that the nipples. She could feel him breaking the delicate skin, it was too much, the pain was too much, oh God, oh God, no, no, no, she was screaming, Ray took the panty gag out and her voice was shrill and piercing, she was screaming “oh please no please God no” over and over again in her high squeaky voice. Dan stopped biting her clit. The pain in her clit slacked off a little, but now she felt her torn nipples again too, her whole body was on fire now, it felt like. She continued to cry and scream. Dan stood next to Trinh’s face and he unbuttoned his pants. He lowered them, then his underwear, and a massive cock, long but mainly thick, the thickest Trinh had ever seen, even in pictures or movies, it was like a beer can almost, was inches from Trinh’s face. She was still fighting, trying to snap at his cock but she couldn’t reach it. Ray said, “It’s just like your fantasies Trinh, isn’t it? Dan’s cock will split your tiny little cunt wide open… oh won’t that make you come so hard Trinh, that big dirty cock just tearing your little open cunt apart?” Trinh was screaming, pleading, “Don’t please don’t, just let me go, please just let me go, I won’t press charges, just let me go…” Ray was laughing. He aimed his camera at Trinh’s face while C.J. got into position to tape the actual insertion, the actual pussy-ripping rape Trinh would soon be forced to endure. Dan stood between Trinh’s legs and without much preparation began to push the swollen head of his cock hard into her pussy. She was fighting still, trying to tighten up and close off her cunt, but it was no use, and her fighting made the pain worse… it was good that she was so wet, at least… she relaxed some and part of his cock slid in more easily. He was so big though, huge, and she could feel his cock stretching her skin, she was crying, but trying not to scream, trying to relax as much as she could, so it wouldn’t hurt so much… “Is she bleeding yet?” Ray asked C.J. “Oh yeah she’s nice and bloody down there, he’s really tearing her up,” C.J. said gleefully, his camera glued to the point of attack. Dan was grunting, straining, and pushing in as hard as he could. “Yes little bitch, take it, take it, little bitch,” he kept saying, almost to himself, as he pummeled Trinh’s helpless tiny pussy. She could feel him stretching her past the breaking point; feel her tender skin beginning to tear, beginning to bleed profusely. It felt like someone was fucking her hard with a baseball bat covered with sandpaper. She could feel the skin chafing–no, ripping open–with every hard thrust. She was screamed out now, just too tired to manage it, but she was sobbing and squealing a little each time her assailant pushed in deep. “I’m close,” Dan said loudly. “Where do you want it?” “Pull out and squirt on her belly. I don’t want it too sloppy in there when I fuck her,” Ray said. Dan pulled his enormous cock out of Trinh so fast she had to gasp, but she felt better — a little better — as soon as he was out of her. Dan leaned forward over her and stroked himself once, and suddenly his cock violently spat out a wave of thick sperm. It squirted out hard, and hit Trinh in the chin, on her neck, and then the little spurts covered her belly and her lower abdomen. A little pool of Dan’s repulsive semen collected in her bellybutton. “Oh God oh sweet fuck,” Dan said, “that’s so good, so good, she’s as tight as a little kid, God, I swear that’s the tightest little cunt I’ve ever been inside, it’s like fucking a ten year old, my God.” He was huffing and puffing and rubbing his softening cock, a little semen still oozing from its peehole. Trinh was in so much pain she was dizzy. It came from everywhere, her nipples, her ear, her cunt, lines of raw unquenchable pain radiating through her body. She was disoriented, very weak; letting out little gasps and sobs from time to time. Ray was taking off his pants. “Take a look, Trinh,” he said, standing beside her and turning her head so she could see his cock up close. It was smaller, a lot smaller than Dan’s, but still, bigger than average. “After having Dan inside you, you probably won’t even feel me,” Ray said, chuckling. Trinh hoped he was right. “Are you ready little bitch?” Ray asked. When Trinh made no response, he spit on her face. “I said ‘are you ready, little bitch?'” This time Trinh managed a little nod. “Good girl,” Ray said.amateur sex photoHe got down between Trinh’s legs and drove himself balls-deep into her cunt with one big thrust. It hurt some, but added to what she was already feeling, it wasn’t really much worse, not at first. “Oh yeah that’s nice,” Ray said, and he began to pump rapidly in and out. There was wetness, from Trinh’s pussy juices and her blood, and she was still pretty stretched out from Dan; Ray was sliding in and out easily, but the raw wounds from the earlier rape came alive with pain on every thrust. Before long it was almost as bad as it had been when Dan was raping her. She tried to close her mind down, to feel nothing, to keep herself separate from the pain, but every time he pushed hard into her, he was rubbing her poor tortured little cunt more and more raw, grinding her flesh almost, she couldn’t keep it from hurting, couldn’t minimize the pain, even in her exhaustion the pain was so intense, so unavoidable. I must be about to die, she kept thinking, I can’t take much more, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. Too weak to scream steadily, but she was whispering, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t” as Ray pushed in and pulled out. “Oh God I’m there,” Ray squealed and he pulled his cock out and raised his body up over Trinh and squirted a hot messy pulse of gooey sperm all over her wincing little face. Ray rolled off, panting. “Jesus she’s a hot little whore, that was so good, so tight, even after you split her open,” he said to Dan. “Just like you said, practically like a little kid. What a hot bloody little hole, God damn.” The cameraman was holding the camera with one hand and with the other he unzipped and took his little cock out and rubbed it, aiming for Trinh’s face too, coming hard, shooting his own sour thin semen on top of Ray’s. The three men stood around her, their drooping cocks still dripping. Dan was starting to get stiff again, slowly. Trinh’s eyes were closed; she was holding her breath, trying to make herself lose consciousness. “Oh God Trinh you must be one tired little Ivy League bitch after all that,” Ray said to her in a mock-sweet voice. “You must be very thirsty.” Trinh opened her eyes and Ray immediately spit on her sperm-coated face. “Are you thirsty, little bitch?” Ray asked her. “Yes,” she said softly. “Please let me go now, please.” Ray said, “No baby doll, we aren’t nearly done with you, Trinh. Not at all. But if you’re thirsty, we can fix that. Are you ready, Dan?” Dan nodded. The big man then straddled her chest and pressed his smelly large penis against Trinh’s face. She was still crying quietly. His penis was smeared with her blood and her vaginal fluid –part of the awful smell was her own pussy, her own blood. The penis was sort of semi-hard now and the man kind of slapped it lightly against Trinh’s face, popping the stiffening flesh against her cheek. “Open your mouth, you little slut,” the man said. Trinh parted her lips, trying to prepare herself to have the smelly dirty cock forced deep into her mouth, down her throat. She knew she would gag, probably she would gag over and over again, she might vomit… she didn’t want to do that, didn’t want to risk choking to death… But then the man started urinating! He was pissing in her mouth! The taste was salty and sour and acrid… she tried to let it drool out of her mouth, but the man screamed, “Swallow my piss you fucking bitch! You fucking toilet!” He stopped pissing for a second and smacked her open-handed across the face and Trinh started gulping the foul liquid down. The camera was only about a foot from her face, it was getting a little urine splattered on it, the cameraman was getting a good close up shot of Trinh’s revulsion, of sour salty piss flooding her prissy little mouth, filling her up as she gulped it down. And then the man was aiming his cock at Trinh’s face, at her hair, soaking her pretty little head with his urine. He just kept pissing, more and more of it, dripping all over Trinh, running down her throat. Please stop, please make it stop, Trinh kept saying — praying — to herself, and she was still swallowing, still tasting the man’s pee, the stream was still powerful, she could feel it hitting the back of her throat as the man called her a urinal, a pissy whore, a little toilet bitch. At last he finished. A last few drops of acrid urine fell on to Trinh’s tongue, Dan slapped her face softly and then he got off of her body. “That was just a little appetizer for you, my sweet slut,” Ray said and left the room. Trinh tried not to wonder what he meant by the piss being just an appetizer, tried not to think about what was going to come next. From the kitchen Ray brought o

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