A Quintet of Perverted Deeds
by
Millie Dynamite
Part One: The Little Angel
I have this thing for my best friend’s daughter. She just a child, an eight-year-old beautiful little Angel. I know what you think, you pervert, am I right? Yeah, that’s what I am. And I don’t mind telling you folks that I am. I don’t want my friend to know. We have cookouts there often, and I watch her playing in their pool. It drives me wild to see her in her tiny bikini splashing around in the shallow end. I always wear baggy pants and tight shorts when I go other there in the hope it will hide my boner.
Not that I have a big boner it might be a tad larger than average. It’s just a tad over seven inches and a good handful. I’ve had no complaints from the women I fuck, but I’m not drawn to women, fuck them, but they aren’t my first choice. What I like, what I genuinely love, young, innocent pussy. I’m attracted to girls between 8 and 11 or so. It is hard to be exact on this as every girl is different. First, they need a lovely face, just the hint of a mound to their breasts is okay, but if they get more than a tiny hill of boobies, I lose interest.
But little Kelly was perfect in every way, for me that is. A cute blonde with lovely big blue eyes…you can get lost in those eyes, and I often did, swimming in her eyes falling head over heels for whatever she had to say. Her little tit mounds just rose off her chest, every so slightly. I so wanted to kiss them, suck on her tiny pointy nipples. This night I went and encouraged her as she tried to learn to swim. She had just started getting the hang of it when Dave yelled at us.
“Soups on,” he shouted. His odd way of calling you to dinner, or a drink, or a game of pool. A generic call to whatever he had going.
She crawled out of the pool and smiled up at me. Kelly liked me and made no secret of it she toweled the water off her hot little body, taking my hand she led me to the picnic table.
“I’m almost swimming now,” she announced to the world as we came to the table. “Can I sit on Richards lap while I eat?”
“No sweetie,” her mom said. “But when Richard is done with his meal you can sit on his lap if you ask and he gives permission.”
“Kayzee wayzee,” she said. Then she wagged her finger up at me, I bent down, and she kissed my cheek. “Love you, Robert.” Everyone laughed, she looked at them indigently putting her hands on her hips. “Hey, I gonna marry him when I old enough.”
“Okay baby,” Dave said giving me a wink. I winked back and sat next to her. I devoured my stake and sucked down beer after beer. It wasn’t long until Kelly finished her hamburger and she tugged on my shirt sleeve. I looked at her, and she looked at me with those big, limpid, pools, of blue wonder, I nodded my approval. Kelly crawled up on my lap. As soon as those tight little ass cheeks touched my lap, my cock sprang to life. I wondered if she could feel my dick pressing between her ass cheeks.
As we talked, we drank, as we sipped whiskey we got a buzz. Kelly didn’t get off my lap, this was unexpected as she sat there she’d squirm. I’d ask her if she was okay and she’d tell me, “A-Okay,” turn to me and smile or giggle, then wiggle just a bit more. The more she squirmed the harder I got, the harder I became, the hotter I got, the hotter I got, the more bourbon I consumed.
At 9:00 Kelly excused herself to go bed. She gave me a big hug and kiss. The little darling whispered to me that she loved me and couldn’t wait till we were married. She pranced off to bed, her little butt wagging as she promenaded into the house. By 11:00 Dave and I are three sheets in the wind, and I can barely walk.
I’m stumbling through the house on my way to the front door when Tracey says, “Just where do you think you’re stumbling to in such a state, Mr.?”
“Home,” I told her.
Folding her arms, she tapped her toe on the hardwood floor. Her eyebrow lifted, and she pointed to hall that Tracey had disappeared into hours ago, she shook her head.
“No, you’re not,” she insisted. “You can’t drive in this condition.” Taking me by the arm, she led me to their daughter’s room on the first floor. Kelly is fast asleep on her bed in the room, and Tracey puts her finger to mouth, “Sshhh, don’t wake her.” She says as moves to the futon and pulls it into its bed configuration. She retrieved an unused pillow from Kelly’s bed and then a Winnie the Pooh blanket from a drawer.
I kicked off my boots, and I laid on the futon, snuggled my head against the pillow. I looked over at the bed and saw Kelly’s eyes were open, she lifted her finger to mouth. I started to pull the blanket over me, and Tracey stopped me.
“You’re not going to sleep like that,” she said as unbuttoned my shirt. She removed my shirt and ran her hand over my pecks. “You really take care of yourself,” she told me as her hands moved down my chest over my tummy then unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my trousers, and unzipped my pants. Tracey worked my pants off and then folded them and the shirt laying them neatly on the dresser.
I glanced back at the bed and saw Kelly still staring at us, well me.
Tracey knelt at my waist and touched my cock. “Rock hard,” she said. “You’ll have trouble falling asleep with this boner.” She pulled my shorts down just a tad, my cock sprang up, her hand engulfed my cock, she spat on it and pumped it hard. Then her mouth covered the head of my cock and continued to jerk me off letting copious amounts of a droll leak from her mouth over prick for lubrication. Her tongue danced over the head of my cock, and soon bucking my hips hard, I pumped a thick stream of jizz into her mouth.
She let my spent pecker fall from her hand and mouth, wiped her mouth and licked the drool and cum from her fingers. Standing she turned to the bed, Kelly shut her eyes. Tracey watched her moment then walked to the door.
“Cover yourself, don’t let Kelly see you like that,” she turned back to me. “Some night when he’s drunk, and you’re not we can have more fun, better fun like we use to do. Now, I have to go pour Dave into bed.” She closed the door.
I think I passed out for a moment, I felt a tiny hand pushing on my shoulder. Opening my eyes, there was Kelly’s beautiful face staring at me. She had on a My Little Pony shirt and panties. Her big azure eyes submerged me into my lust for her. Her face moved closer, her eyes closed, and her lips met mine. I put my hand no the back of her small head giving her the first kiss, real kiss, she had ever known. When we broke from the kiss, Kelly moved the blanket off me and crawled into the bed with me. She pushed her back into me and pulled my arm around her.
“I’m so mad at mommy for kissing your pee-pee,” she said.
“Because she should only kiss your daddy like that,” I said.
“No, cause you are my man,” she said.
“Sweetie, Uncle Rob is too old for you, or you’re too young for me,” I told her.
“Am not,” she said.
I pulled her top up and put my hand under it on her flat chest, I started to rub on her breasts. I knew it was wrong but didn’t care. Her small body felt so good my cock stiffened right off the bat, well became the bat. She felt it pressing on her butt, letting out a soft lustful moan, she said…
“It’s big. Your hands make all wonky. Funny thing is, you touching me where my boobies will be but I feel it everywhere. Even way down in my private.”
“Kelly, dear, take off your top, will you?”
Without a word she sat up and pulled her top off and dropped it on the floor. Turning in on the makeshift bed, she looked and smiling. Then she gave me a sweet innocent kiss, several, they call them butterfly kisses if I recall correctly. I put my hand in my sorts, ogling her I drank in her tiny body as slowly jerked my cock stiff.
“I love you, Robert.”
“Baby, I love you too,” I told her. I felt no guilt in telling her, it was true I did love her with a lustful, romantic love that a man has for a woman. Her age didn’t matter, it would matter, at least not until she turned 12 or 13. “Take off your panties and show me your private.”
“Okie-Dokie,” she said while she peeled out of them. Her precious little bald pussy stared me in the face. I pulled her over to me, laid her down, and slipped my head between her legs. I licked and cleaned her succulent, little twat. Ran my tongue over it, tickled and teased it and her little button, she squirmed as licked around, she clutched at the material of the futon, making soft moans and a guttural squeal. “Sshh, sshh, sshh,” I said urging her to be quiet.
Her little cunny was warm and smeared with my spit and her tasty pussy juice. Gooseflesh covered her tight body. Looking up at her, the look of…rapture…on her face made me even harder. I let my hands roam over her body. Kelly’s soft flesh was hot to the touch, she couldn’t stay still. Undulating across the futon, like she tried to get away. But she wasn’t trying to run, she just couldn’t be still as the pleasure ran through her fevered body. After a few minutes, her hips bucked into my face as hard waves of her first orgasm washed over her.
It took her minutes to regain herself. She started stuttering as she babbled about how good that it had felt. She ran her tiny hands over my body as I lay next to her smoking a cigarette, I put the ashes in a coke can that had been on her dresser. She started rubbing my cock through boxers.
“Are you going to put you wee-wee in me now?”
“No, my love, you’re too small for me to do that two, yet. I’ll put a finger in you first, then two, and three. Eventually, I’ll put me in you. But not tonight.”
“Will it fit in my mouth?”
“Well, take it out and see. You saw mommy do that, earlier didn’t you?”
“Uh-huh,” she said her head bobbing.
“Well, your mommy is a pretty good sucker, but I’m betting you can be better. Just treat my cock like a candy sucker, only you don’t bite it, or like you’re sucking a popsicle.”
“A dicksicle,” Kelly said laughing.
She pulled my pecker out of my shorts. Her eyes studied my cock looking at it and my balls. Her eyes wide with wonder looked a dark blue in the dim light streaming into the room through the open the door to the hall. That was when I realized that the door hadn’t been shut when her mom left. I shook that thought from head to concentrate on Kelly.
“What do I call it?”
“I like it when you use the name wee-wee or pee-pee,” I told her.
“You wee-wee so cute,” Kelly said while she bent her beautiful head over it, her hair hung down tickling my belly and balls. She kissed the head my dick, running her small hands up and down the shaft. Nothing makes a man feel like he has a big cock more than a preteen girl trying to warp her tiny hands around it. She opened her mouth wide and got the head inside her mouth. Holy shit, it felt good. Better than I had imagined for over two years while I tried to figure out how to make this happen.
I reached over and touched her round butt, running my hand over it, I guided her to closer, giving me free access to her twat. Licking my middle finger, I ran it over the small opening, rubbing her clitty with my thumb.
Meanwhile, Kelly ran her tongue all over my cock, then engulfed the head with her mouth, she choked into inches, then three, then four. Fucking shit, she was way better than her mom. Her mom, yeah, that’s when it all dawned on me.
Looking over at the open door, I saw her eyes, shining red in the dark. She sat on the chair in the hall, the cherry of a cigarette glowing in her hand. She lifted it to her mouth and took a drag, in the red glow of the cig’s light I saw her face as she sucked in a lungful. Tracey rested her arm on the arm of the chair again. I could just make out her left hand buried in her panties as she rubbed one out watching us.
Bringing my fingers back to mouth, I lubed them up with my spit, put my hand down to Kelly’s pussy again and put two fingers in, just a tad. Kelly froze for a moment, I started working my fingers in and out, and she still sucked me like a pro.
Tracey started fucking her hand now covering her mouth with her free hand, the cigarette up near her eye as her body lurched and bucked. Watching her orgasm caused my cock spasm, a thick rivulet of cum burst forth in Kelly’s mouth. Bucking my hips, I drove the cock into the back of Kelly’s mouth. She held on, never gagging sucking every drop of cum out me. At the same time, her hips bucked onto my fingers as Kelly’s second orgasm overtook her.
My angle passed out this time. Picking her up I moved her back to her bed. Walked to door staring at Tracey, her hair a mess, her clothing askew on her body, and the lust in her eyes. I put a hand on the edge of the door and turned my look cold.
“Go to bed,” I told her.
“When will you fuck her?”
“When I want,” I said.
“I want to watch,” she said.
“It’ll cost you,” I told her.
“I’ll fuck you anytime you want,” she said dropping to her knees.
“Stop embarrassing yourself, you hold no attraction for me. It’ll cost you money to watch.”
A look of hurt flooded over her. Her lower lip quivered, she started blubbering, “but, but.” I swung the door, and she stammered and mumbled, “Why? Why don’t you want to fuck me?”
“You're too old, now go Dave fuck and make me a girl to take this ones place when she gets too old for me.”
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much to watch fuck her,” she said the look of humiliation on her face was priceless.
“Two hundred bucks, as long it’s not the first time. You watch after I pop her cherry it’s popped, two hundred. If you watch me take her cherry, five hundred.” She nodded her head in agreement to the terms. I had always picked my friends well; Dave and Tracey were no exceptions. I had three girls I was fucking right now, well no, now I have four. Looking at her sweet little body, I laid my plans for the next week, in 7 days I’d deflower Kelly. I expect her worthless whore mother to be there.
I never said I was a good guy. Still, I do treat the girls good, even if I’m a bastard to the parents. If you want sweet young cunt to fuck, just look for the workaholic with a neglected, little girl. They just don’t get what needs their angels have. What about you? Got a young girl at home, want me to come for a visit? You can watch, just $200 a throw, well, $500 for the cherry popping!
****
Part Two: The Fundraiser
My name is Samuel, everyone calls me Sam. I’m 12-years-old, I’m in sixth grade, I go to Central Middle School and play soccer. It’s the middle of March, and we had a fundraiser for the soccer team. We sold candy bars door to door. I mostly sold to my folk’s friends, I went door to door some, but only with my sister accompanying me. Anyway, long story short, I still had six of my eight boxes of the candy and wanted to try to get rid of them.
Sissy was still at cheer practice, and the fundraiser would end in just two more days. I didn’t want to sell the fewest candy bars. Without thinking that anything terrible to could happen, I got the big bag with boxes of candy and headed out to sell them. I had to go a long way from home as I had asked and asked everyone that lived near me.
After walking forever, I found myself in a kind of shabby part of town. The first couple of places the people were kind but didn’t buy any of the candy bars. I sold two of the bars at one place, then hit a dry spell with people that were rude to me. I moved to a new block, and it was like night and day. The houses were bigger, the yards well maintained, and the neighborhood was clean.
Walking through a gate, I strolled up the winding sidewalk to the front door of a huge house. I pushed the doorbell, and in a few moments an older woman, like maybe 40, opened the door. The low-cut dress she wore showed her massive breasts, and her shorts skirt showed shapely legs. She wore a lot of makeup, thick lips, and she had beautiful, long, blonde hair. In one hand she had a large glass with dark colored drink it, maybe Pepsi or Coke.
“Well aren’t you just the most precious little boy? What are you doing sweetheart?”
“It’s a fundraiser,” I muttered.
She squatted down, locking her knees together, she twisted her legs, sort of batted her eyes at me. “What a cute little boy you are? How old are you ten, eleven?”
“Twelve ma’am,” I said.
“Oh, so old, you don’t look twelve. But boy are you going to drive the girls wild, you’re just adorable,” she told me. Her hand reached out and rubbed my arm, “Wow, you have such a hard muscle. You must be the quarterback, right?”
“I don’t play football, it’s soccer,” I said, ducking my head think she wouldn’t like that.
“Soccer,” she said. “Soccer is my favorite sport. I bet you’re the best on the team, aren’t you?”
“Well, I have scored a lot this year,” I bragged to her. “So, are you selling sweet things,” she asked me, licking her lips. “I love sweet things, like you.” She put her hand on my face, no girl let alone woman had ever done that. Her hands were soft and warm and sent a shiver over me.
“Candy bars,” I said holding one up from the open box.
“If you come and visit with me while I make out the check, I’ll buy them all,” she said standing she turned and walked in, holding the door for me. “Well,” she said looking at me. I wanted to go in, but my mom told me never to go into a stranger’s house. I stood there frozen to the spot, her friendly smile grew cold. “Little man get your ass in here now,” she snapped at me. Her anger flared up just like my mommy’s, the tone of her voice was like mommy’s. I didn’t know what to do.
She moved to me, reached down grabbing my arm. She yanked me into the house, how often had my mom done this exact thing, I knew what was next, I was getting a spanking. The door slammed behind us, and she drug me along deeper into her house. She pulled to her, bending over she let go my arm and shook her finger at me.
“Who’s the adult here and who’s the little boy?” she said, shaking her finger at me. Her anger showed, and her breasts shook as she chewed me out, “You’re the little boy, right?” those big melon sized breasts were all I could see. I just gawked at them. My mouth opened a bit as ogled her big tits moving under the thin fabric of her tight dress. Big nipples poked out through the lightweight material of her dress. I could see them clearly, and the sight fogged my brain. Her open hand hit my cheek and staggered from the blow to my left, while right cheek burned.
“I’m sorry,” I said. Shame filled me, she knew I’d been staring at her boobies.
“You think because your handsome little boy you can get away being dirty? Is that what you think?”
I shook my head. She put her hands on my face, she squeezed my cheeks and forced my head up, making me look her in the eyes. Her eyes showed the anger. Still, they were wide her left eyebrow arched upward. She sniffed, moved her face closer to me, sniffed again. Licking her lips, she spoke to me, her hot breath moved across my face, could smell the booze on her breath. She was so much like my mommy, only she was more beautiful and her body far curvier.
“I can smell your nastiness, you have the scent of a dirty little boy,” she said looking down she laughed. “Your little pee-pee is all stiff. Take your belt off and give to me.” Letting loose of my cheeks she sat down in a rocking chair. “Do what you're told,” she said her voice mean and menacing.
“I didn’t mean anything,” I told her.
She held her hand out, waiting on my belt. Once more I just stood there staring at her, not knowing what to do. She snapped her fingers and opened her hand again. Unbuckling my belt, I pulled it out of the loops and held it out to her.
She snuffed out her smoke in the ashtray, took the belt, then she drank down the rest of her drink in one big gulp, leaving only a tiny bit in her glass. She sat the belt on her lap, grabbed my arm and roughly yanked me to her.
“You’re such a pretty little boy,” she said her hands roaming over my back and arms. “You’re very small for 12, how tall are you?”
I hung my head, again, and mumbled, “four feet three inches tall.”
“Weight?”
“About 65 pounds,” I told her knowing that I was way behind the others in my grade.
“You know sweetie,” she said pulling another cigarette out of a pack and lighting it, “you’re like a nine-year-old. Take your shirt off for me.”
“Why,” I asked my voice filled with defiance. This time the slap hit my left cheek twice as hard as the first one, I staggered several steps away from her.
“Get your little ass over here,” she snapped at me. “And sweetie, take that damn shirt off, NOW.”
I rubbed my cheek as I moved back to her, I pulled my shirt over my head and let it fall to the floor. She ran the cold glass over my chest, my small nips hardened, she kissed them running her tongue over chest, kissing my chest. Her hand moved to crotch, as soon as her fingers grazed over my erect dick it started spurting. My jizz spread over my jeans and started to cry and saying…
“I’m sorry.”
“Nasty boy,” she unbuckled my pants, unzipped them, they fell to the floor. She pulled my shorts down, then put me over her knee. “This will hurt me, far more than you,” She said as the belt hit my left buttock. It burned. A hard blow stung my right side as the leather coursed over the bare flesh. She struck each as cheek three times and stopped. My mother always told the same thing when she whipped me, “This is going to hurt me, more than you.” I don’t know why they think we will believe them when they say that.
She had me lay on the floor on my back. I lay there crying and sobbing. I watch as she filled her glass with ice, then poured the brownish booze over the ice. She pranced back over to me, knelt and sat on her butt beside my head. She pulled her dress over her head, she was naked beside me. Her big fat tits and long thick nipples hung there next to me. She stuck a nipple in the glass and let it sit there a long time. Sitting the glass down away from us, she picked my head up and bent down to me.
“Lick it off like a good boy,” I did as I was told. Licking the foul-tasting stuff from her boob and nipple. She moved my mouth from one tit to the other and back. My dick stiffened up again. “Nice, your little, tiny pee-pee is all stiffy wiffy again,” she talked to me like a puppy or a baby. She retrieved her drink and guided me back on my back. She took a mouth full of booze and ice. I could hear her cracking the ice with her teeth.
Her mouth went down to my pecker, she engulfed me, balls and all. The cold ice, her hot mouth, lips, and tongue, it all swirled around in no time I shot another load. She came up, and my dick plopped down on my balls as a limp little sausage. I felt strange, excited, afraid, nervous, sad, and very happy all at the same time. She kissed me, forcing my mouth open with her tongue, she pushed the ice, booze, and my own cum into mouth. She forced me to swallow it, the booze brunt, the ice burnt as well, and eating on my own cum scared the crap out of me. I coughed and sputtered. It was my first taste of alcohol, it was nasty. That notwithstanding, it made me feel good right off the bat.
She stood up and moved to the rocker. Sitting she rocked and smiled at me. She opened a drawer on the table and pulled some bills out, signaling for me to come to her. She held the money in one hand, I came to her standing there looking as bewilder as I felt.
“This is for my chocolate bars,” she said handing me a $50-dollar bill.
“That’s too much,” I told her.
“Nonsense,” she said, “My good little boy should be happy I’m giving him this. Is my boy going to be happy and turn this all in?”
Nodding my head, I took the bill from her, then picked up my undies.
“No, no you are leaving the underwear,” she said. “Put on your dirty pants.”
I pulled on the pants and put the bill in the side that didn’t have cum on it. She then handed me a hundred-dollar bill.
“That’s so my boy will come back tomorrow,” she said. “Well, my good boy come back tomorrow and see me?”
I nodded, retrieved my shirt, pulled it over my head. She pulled me to her, cupped my head in her hands, and kissed me, sticking her tongue in my mouth as she did. My cock sprang to life again. She reached down and jerked me a few times, and once more I sprayed inside my pants.
“Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to eat pussy and fuck—Okie Dokie?”
I couldn’t sleep all night. School drug by, but now it’s almost 3:30 and I’m running through the slummy part of town trying to be on time.
****
Part Three: A Plethora of Pain
In prison, serving your time on death row, it’s difficult to know the difference between day and night. Charlotte biding her time, waiting on the promised appeal. Hoping, wishing, praying that she would be set free, she longed for a second chance. The terrible truth is, child molesters, child abusers, or child murders don’t often get second chances.
The thing is, she liked the things she did. Making young girls or little boys do things, using them for her pleasure, then snuffing them out, hand to God, Charlotte got off on that. They thought she only did it the one time, there was a chance, a small one, that she’d get that appeal. If she did, the act she’d put on to the psychiatrist in here all but ensured she’d get off on diminished capacity.
Twenty-two-hour lockdown isn’t a fun way to live even in prison. Nonetheless, it was better than gen-pop, child molesters don’t fare well in gen-pop. It wasn’t the Hilton, even so, showering away from the other women made it much better than it would be otherwise. Two hours away from her cell, on in the exercise yard, one hour to watch TV, and 22 looking at the cinderblock walls, or the empty corridor outside her cell.
She spent her time reading romance novels and children’s books. Or dreaming of hairless pussy and tiny peckers and balls, visualizing those she molested, reliving the kills. She could remember everyone she ever had, their beautiful mouths, their eyes, the way their hair hung on their lovely faces. She killed seven girls and four boys and wanted to hurt so many more. At 23, if she didn’t get that appeal, she was looking at five more years and then, the needle.
Lighting a smoke, she relaxed on her cot, closed her eyes, visualized the first kid…a little nine-year-old boy. She opened her eyes, held the smoke out at arm length, studied the cheery so bright red, closed her eyes and saw the cigarette blistering his little ball on the left side, he wriggled so hard to get away from that pain, but the ropes held him tight. Tommy’s shrill little cries were indistinguishable from a baby girl balling for a bottle.
The clanking of the cell door’s lock opening shook her back to the present. The door slid open with a creaking, clanking when it hit the end of the track a booming clash echoed in the big hall. The bull-bitch guard stood at the door, glaring at her, stick drawn she was ready for trouble.
“Time for your shower bitch,” she barked at her. She didn’t look feminine, she looked like a muscled man with tits.
Charlotte sat looking at her, she sucked in another lungful of acrid smoke, exhaled it but sucked it back in her mouth. She let the smoke out, slow this time, it moved out of her mouth, wispy barely visible.
“Bit early isn’t it?” she asked.
“The general population got done early. Now move it perv, I don’t got all day to babysit your ass.”
“Okay,” Charlotte said. Standing she exited her cell, walking in front of the guard about three steps. “I can use this, feel that hot water over my body, might play a little with the soap.”
“Yeah, you might play with my pussy tonight and keep your perv mouth shut about,” the guard said.
“You come near me, I’m screaming my head off,” she said.
Nothing more was said in the walk, unlocking the entrance to the showers, the guard, hauled her inside, checked to make sure the other side was locked. The bull-bitch locked the door again to death row. Turned to her and barked out…
“Strip and be quick about it.” She ambled to the gen-pop door, unlocked it and turned back to Charlotte. “I’m going to get me a snack. When I get back your heading back to your cell.”
Charlotte flipped her cigarette in the guard’s general direction. The guard laughed and exited, Charlotte heard the lock click as Maddy locked her in alone. Standing, she unzipped the jumpsuit, stepping out of it, she grabbed a bar of soap and entered the shower. She turned on the water, full hot and a little of the cold. Lathering up, she worked the soap into her skin. A small bottle of shampoo sat on the shelf of the stall, she took it emptied the entire bottle onto her hand. Lathering up her hair, she let the warm water run down her breast and over her pussy. Turing her back to the stream, she moved into the flow washing out the shampoo.
Charlotte turned her face into the flow, let the warm water wash over her hair, down her back. Her face bashed into the cold tile of the shower wall, she staggered back two steps. Her hair twisted, she felt the hair being yanked at the roots, her feet came from underneath her. Her back crashed into the wet floor, and a woman jumped on top of her, her hairy, smell snatch pressed into Charlotte’s face.
“Eat my fucking pussy out, kiddy fucker,” an angry voice ordered her.
Charlotte’s face was pressed tightly to the woman’s crotch. Her hair was yanked one way and then another as the woman barked out orders. Gathering her senses about her, marshaling her strength, Charlotte bobbed her body upward, knocked the woman back into the shower, pouncing on top of the woman, Charlotte landed a volley of blows to her attacker’s face, she the pummeled her breasts, blow after blow she beat the woman. Standing, she kicked the woman’s crotch as hard as she could, then again, and one more time.
“Bitch,” she said wiping blood from her forehead, she turned to leave.
The clinched fist came from nowhere, landing on her jaw, she crumpled to the floor. This bitch was bigger than first, when she tried to get up the foot struck her in her tit, again and again, repeated blows to her breast from the other woman’s barefoot. Trying to catch her breath, her mind raced to figure out a defense, fingers wrapped into her tangled blonde hair, dragging her to her feet. Charlotte felt her hair yanked, her body followed, they ran headlong into a stall. She stumbled away from the other woman crashing her face into the wall.
Charlotte fell into the toilet. Her face hit the cold pissy water. As fast as lightning her face was pushed into the nasty water. She heard the flush and felt the water rush around her, felt it fall away and fill the bowl. Her nose was held to the cold porcelain, she sucked in water. Yanked free of the water she tried to catch her breath, her face again plunged into the ice-cold water.
Blows landed on her back, try as she might she couldn’t stand. The hand held her head in place, pushing her under, while with her free fist the bitch pounded her back. Throwing her out of the stall, Charlotte slid across the floor back into the shower. The first woman turned off the water, the two women stood over her.
“Let’s fuck her up good,” the first woman said, her barefoot coming down hard on Charlotte’s nose. She felt it crack, felt the blood gush from her nose. The women used their feet, kicking her sides her ass, and her privates. They kicked her around the shower floor. Every time Charlotte tried to get up, the women kicked her again, knocking the shit out of her.
After a they beat the hell out of her, they took turns making Charlotte eat them out until her tongue was sore. When Charlotte began to think the abuse would never end she heard a loud cracking sound, the two men jumped up and walked out of the room muttering.
Charlotte lay on the floor, on her back, trying to collect her thoughts. Hand touched her nose, squeezing hard. She looked up and saw the bull-bitch guard. Maddy glared at her as she mashed her nose back into a rough semblance of its original shape.
“Good as new,” she said. “Get your ass in that shower and clean up,” she ordered her.
“I need to go to the infirmary?”
“For what?”
“I’m hurt,” Charlotte said.
“SO?”
“But…”
“But nothing kiddy fucker,” Maddy told her. “You’re my bitch, or you get this every fucking day.”
“Okay,” she croaked. “You win, I’m your bitch. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
Maddy moved away from her, sat on a bench, and watched.
Charlotte rose, getting to her feet, she walked on shaky feet into the shower again. Soaping up, she let the warm water wash over her, it didn’t help the pain much. She felt the rough hands, and hard muscles of Maddy engulf her. One of the bull-bitches hands clamped on her pussy, one her small tit. Like vise grips, they closed around her body parts. It felt as if they would rip from her body.
“Is this right? Is this how you treat little girls?”
****
Part Four: My First Time
It’s five o’clock in the morning. I’m watching the sun rise over the mountain to east of here. Drawing in a hard toke from the refer, I hold it in my lungs, and think about my life. I’m floating on a sea of euphoria…my life flashes before my eyes. The good, the bad, all the fun, disappointment, the successes, and ponder the question that has always haunted me. Am I a bad person? I’m a man that grabs what he wants, but does that make me an evil man?
I remember the first like it was yesterday. It was 20 years ago. Nonetheless, the events are as clear to me today as when they happened. It was rainy day, a dreary, bleak feeling came over me.
****
Twenty Years Earlier
I sat on my girlfriend’s couch doing what I’m doing right now, getting high. She folded her arms, gave me that fuck you and the horse you rode in on look, tapped her toe, and scolded me for my shiftless existence. We had just finished fucking, as soon as nutted in her, I came out into the living room to get high. That always pissed her off, my leaving instead of telling her how beautiful she is while hold her until she falls asleep. I did that bullshit about one out of twenty times, the rest of the time she made me leave, this was one of the rest of the times, her anger guaranteed it.
Walking out the door, I turned to her, in a calm, clear voice I said, “One of these days when you treat me like shit, I’m going to fucking beat the shit out of you. Maybe I’ll just kill you, you fucking…whore.”
She got the strangest look on her face, I had said it before, she had laughed it off or just let it pass without reaction. I think, at that moment, it finally dawned on her, I would be the death of her.
I sucked in on the joint until it burnt my fingers, let it fall to her carpet, walked out slamming the door behind me. Walking down to the street I looked around, checked my watch, 1:30 am. Good, I could catch last call at a bar, just which one was the question. Looking around I had my pick, O’Reilly’s parking lot and a man staggered away from the door. Maybe it was empty.
The rain had stopped, a light fog hung in the air which was heavy with moisture and the unbearable heat of summer. It wasn’t the heat, it was the moisture. No, in truth it was the combination of the two. Maybe bourbon would release me of the funk I had fallen into over the past few days.
I rushed to the bar, hustled through the door. The little bell rang above the door as I opened it. The bartender’s shoulders sagged at the sound, her head dropped a bit, when she turned around she had regained her professional composure.
“Just in time for last call,” she said a pleasant smile on her face.
“Then let’s get the best, Pappy Van Winkle’s a double,” I said in my most jovial voice.
“Rocks?”
“Straight,” I said sitting at the middle of bar but to one side of the taps.
She put the glass in front of me, retrieved the bottle and pulled the corked. I put a twenty on the bar, she rang up the drink and put the change in front of me. She turned her back and returned to her closing ritual. Quietly I stood and walked to the door flipping the sing in the window to closed. I set the lock, it barely made a sound.
“Be right back,” I said when passed by my stool, dragging it to make her think I just got off it. Walking back to the restrooms, I passed them and locked the back door. I checked both bathrooms, no one there. Meaning, her and I were alone in the bar. I came back into the main room. Watching her, I drank in her form, thin waist, small round ass, big, buoyant tits and long, curly, blonde hair, in a hot piece of ass for sure. I was already hard for the bitch.
I’d been thinking about this for years, today was the day. I put a quarter in the jukeboxes and pushed some buttons. A song started, looking back at the bitch, she turned to me smiled and went back to counting the money from the cash register. Her hips swayed with the music, back and forth she undulated, her shoulders moved with the music as well as her head. She enjoyed the tune and let her body show it. This whore had no idea how helpless she was, not with a guy like me.
Only, I didn’t know if I could do this. It was a fantasy, just an illusion. The same as my thoughts of killing my girlfriend. I walked to the back of the bar, still moving as quietly as possible. I stood behind her, inches from her. I could smell the scent of hair, a fruity smell from some cheap shampoo, her perfume, even the Downy fabric softener in her clothes.
The young woman turned, the pen in her hand fell to the floor, she back into the counter, her eyes were wide as half-dollars. The look on her face, that mixture of shock and fear, her quivering lip, and the small quiver of her body, it did something to me.
“What…” she said. I cut off with hard slap across her face.
“Don’t talk,” I said as I unzipped my pants and fished out my hard, angry monster. “Your mouth ain’t for talking bitch, it’s for sucking. So, get on your knees, suck me off, and I’ll be gone.”
Her trepidation had an aroma of its own, fear now that’s something you can smell and sense. She reeked of it, beads of perspiration covered her brow. Gooseflesh rose on her face and neck, tears threatened to fall. Even so, she just stood there.
“Do you want me to hurt you,” I said. I spoke in a hushed tone, like a man whispering to their lover. That notwithstanding, she could hear, and feel the menace in my words. With the slightest of movements, she shook her head, her body gliding to her knees. The dampness of her white, silk blouse pleased me. The trembling of her body thrilled, her mouth opened, she gently placed her lips around my cock. She licked my cock head, tenderly, like she feared she’d hurt me.
I took her by her ears, clutched them tightly, drove my cock in with hard thrust, about 4 inches of meat into her wet warm mouth. She spit and sputtered her sputum sprayed from the side over my cock and balls. I drove in another four inches with hard thrust. Gagging and spitting she took it until all of it was in her mouth, and down her throat, my balls nestled against her chin.
I moved her head, using those ears to control her. Driving my cock down her throat and back almost out of her mouth. Muffled screams came from her as I drilled my long, fat cock into her face. Fucking face is so pleasurable, especially when the bitch hates it.
After about ten minutes, pulled my cock free of her pie-hole and jacked off on her face. She got to feet, cum dripping from her face, visibly shaken, “I’ll let you out,” she said. She took a few steps toward the end of the bar near the door. She grabbed a bar rag and wiped her face. Watching her, I changed my mind.
“I lied to you,” I said.
“What,” she said freezing in place.
I moved to her, grabbed her blouse, pulling back on it hard. Buttons flew off the blouse, I yanked again, exposing her firm tight upper body and those magnificent boobs. Clasping her curly hair, I tossed her back to where she came from, she stumbled back a few steps and crashed to the floor.
“Get naked, bitch,” I said while rubbing my cock hard again with one hand and stripping out of my own close with the other.
“No,” she sobbed, “you promised.”
I took two steps and kicked her between her legs hard. She screamed and fumbled with her belt and buttons. She stripped off the pants and then her thong. Climbing between her legs, pushed her face down the floor.
“On your knees, ass up face down,” I told her.
The bitch was probably just 21, and to my surprise she was tight. So, fucking tight, my fat cock ripped her open. When I hit that cherry and tore it apart, the blood felt so nice and warm. I pounded into her so roughly, the muscles ripped, the flesh inside that pussy convulsed around my cock driving me insane.
Felt it building in me. My balls rose, a felt the flood rushing inside my cock. It burst inside her, spraying waves into her. I kept pounding and busted my nut for third time, collapsing on top of her body. I sucked in air, fully satisfied.
That’s when it dawned on me. This bitch would talk, she’d call the cops, and I’d end up in jail. She lay beneath me, sobbing, whimpering, begging me to leave her alone now. I put my right arm around her neck and my left hand on her head. With hard pull, I yanked heard to the left.
The crack sounded in my ears, her body went limp, and I felt the urine flow out of her gushing over my upper right leg and knee. Standing I got dressed, dosing everything I touched with booze. Then I covered her body with alcohol and ran a trail from her hair to the back door. Kicking the gas line on the stove until it snapped, and I could hear whishing into the room. I covered my hand with my shirt sleeve, opened the door. Striking a match, I threw into the pool of bourbon. A blue flame raced on the rivulets of booze. I shut the door walking away before I got to the end of the alley blast told me my tracks were covered.
****
Present Day
Yeah, that was the first time. I looked at the sun as it crested over the mountain. The air’s temperature dropped a degree or so. I stood and looked down into the hole, deep enough I thought. I pulled the naked body of the young woman into the hole.
Reaching to where she had been, I retrieved the gardening sheers, knelt, cut the small finger of her left hand off, then her left nipple. I put them in plastic sack and wrote #66. Then the niggling in brain began, am I a bad person…No, I thought, I’m evil.[/font][/size]
