Forced
2004-09-05
"I’ll take her home. " It was Hank. He was speaking to his mom. I was the babysitter and he was going to drive me home. My mouth went dry.
Hank was going to take me home?
Hank’s car smelled like cigarettes. I cracked the window. I didn’t trust him. I needed to breathe.
"You smoke?" He extended the pack.
"No, thanks. "
"You know, your not half bad-looking. "
I pulled away from him, sitting as close as I could to the car door. Was that supposed to be a compliment? Just get me home, I thought. Just get me home!
I lived about twenty minutes across town. Hank drove a few minutes and stopped at a convenience store.
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"I have to grab a pack of smokes. "
"Okay. "
He got out of the car and I have to admit, I sat like a lump. For some reason, I felt like I needed to get out of the car and run. I wanted to run inside the store. I wanted to say, "I think this guy is going to rape me. Call my Dad. "
But how could I say that? How could I think that? Hank asked me if I wanted to fuck. That didn’t really make him a pervert, did it? Especially when I really did want to fuck and he could probably sense that. So how could I embarrass him in front of a shopkeeper by saying such a crazy allegation? How to explain away the sick feeling at the pit of my stomach. It was probably just guilt anyway. Guilt from feeling like I had molested and ruined a young boy. Oh but a boy with a man-cock who was dying to have me suck it again.
Hank came back to the car and we pulled out of the parking lot.
Then he took a wrong turn.
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"Oh. I live that way. " I said, trying to convince myself he was just making a mistake.
He kept driving. He was going the wrong way! The car smelled too much like cigarettes. I thought I was going to be sick.
I tried again. "Hank, I live back that other way. On East 76 th . "
He ignored me. He turned and was driving me down a narrow lane that wound back into the blackberry bushes.
"Where are you taking me?"
"I asked you. You want to fuck?"
"I said no. "
"That was because you thought my parents were coming home. You didn’t want to get interrupted.
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But I can see it in you. You want me to throw you back there in the seat and fuck your intellectual brains out. " He sneered. "Look at you. " He gestured towards my backpack. "You have an algebra book in there, don’t you?"
I didn’t know what that had to do with anything.
"So what are you going to do?" My voice was strained. My hands were clammy. I didn’t want him to hurt me. I wanted to go home!
My old boyfriend never fucked me. The few times we were together, we messed around. We always made love. I looked around. He had me on some back road. I didn’t even know where the hell I was.
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Should I jump out of the car and run for it?
Then he stopped the car. "You did it, didn’t you?" he turned to me, real mean.
"What?"
"You fucked Bobby. "
"No I didn’t. "
"You must have. How do you have an innocent kid go in one day from getting a boner in the tub to trying to force that boner down my mother’s face?"
"No I didn’t. "
He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and straightened it. It was Bobby’s drawing. Of the phallus, and the mouth.
"Then why is it that all he wants to do is to draw stiff cocks and while he does it he says Dido, Dido, Dido. I know you did it. "
I swallowed. I could imagine how it looked. "It wasn’t like that. "
He laughed.
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I could smell the beer on his breath. "Oh but it was something like that. How do you fuck a retard?"
I was shocked that he would call his brother retarded. "I didn’t screw him. I didn’t. "
He leaned into me and he kissed my mouth, roughly, sticking a stinking tongue into my mouth.
"Oh but you wanted it, didn’t you, Bitch. "
I started to grab the door handle. Maybe I could run for it.
"Don’t you dare!" He slammed his fist down on my fingers.
I yelped. Hank leaned over me and used his weight to shove me against the vinyl seat. He yanked my legs apart and grabbed my crotch like he was picking up a bowling ball. He was hurting me!
"Okay," I whimpered. "What do you want?"
He leered.
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"What I want is a piece of that smart ass of yours. I’m going to give you the fucking of your life. And fuck you for messing with my kid brother. Fuck you. "
He struggled to pull my pants off me, and when he couldn’t get the buttons opened, he started yanking on the buttons so they gouged into me. My pants were too tight and he was probably going to have to tear them off. Then what? I felt helpless. What the hell should I do? I didn’t want to help him rape me. If I helped him, he could use it against me. But I didn’t want to resist and have him beat the crap out of me either.
What I wanted to do was to negotiate.
Shit. "Okay, Hank," I said, "let’s be reasonable. You don’t want to rape me and have me prosecute. I don’t want you to grope at me and throw me around.
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What if I just take my clothes off and you stick it in and do your thing. . . . and we call it a night. "
"Shut up, you bitch!" He slapped my face.
He was not going to beat the shit out of me! I grabbed the denim and wiggled out of my pants. What an asshole. What a fucking asshole.
Then he pulled down his zipper. "My bro isn’t the only one with a big pecker. " He was right. It sprang out. It was just as big and just as purple and just as throbbing. Only this one was attached to a bastard.
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He grabbed between my legs. I felt like a chunk of meat. Like an object. "I knew you were slimy wet, you whore," he said, feeling how wet seeing Bobby made my pussy. "You want this thing. I know you do. "
I didn’t want his thing right there in the front seat with the handle on the door digging in my back and my butt sticking to the vinyl! But I was too frightened to say anything. If you’re going to do it, asshole, get ‘er done.
I was shaking. He struggled with his own pants, trying to open the zipper enough so it wouldn’t rake against him.
"Shit, shit shit" he said, trying to direct his thing inside my hole. It kept jabbing, but I was pretty small, and he was pretty big, and it wasn’t even lined up.
If I helped him put it in, would it be aiding and abetting a rape?
It was easier to just lie here and go along with it.
He slid in and I was so wet and Oh it felt delicious. I wanted to sigh against him.
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It had been so long. I wanted to cry out when he thrust it into me and catch his ass in my hands and push him inside me as deep as it would go. But no. He was taking me against my will. I said no. He was trying to punish me for violating Bobby. Or so he said. I had a feeling he’d about fuck anything that’d let him.
And he ground against me, his hard dick reaching deep, deep, deep inside. It clipped against my cervix, and I moaned, it was so sensitive.
"You like that, doncha Bitch?"
I didn’t want to struggle. I didn’t want to like it. I couldn’t help but moan. Oh oh oh, sweet Jesus, that felt so, so good. I was so wet, and he was slipping in and out.
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He was way bigger than my boyfriend last year. I opened my legs a little wider and shifted so that he wasn’t up against the steering wheel quite so much. Was I sick to help him? Wasn’t this supposed to be awful? How come I wanted to make it easier, to make it feel better?
"Shit. " I gasped. "The handle is hitting me right in the small of my back. Fuck, but that feels good right there. "
Then I froze. I didn’t mean to say that. He ground away on top of me, grunting. Maybe he hadn’t heard me. My back was jammed against the door.
Shit. Shit. Shit. "Okay, okay already.
I give. " I gasped. "Let’s get comfortable for Christ’s sake. "
Hank didn’t need to be told twice. He rolled over the back of the driver’s seat into the back and helped me get over. He pulled his pants all the way off, his dick sprang up and bumped into his belly. I straddled him.
On top of him, it went in deep, real deep, and I started calling out. I couldn’t help it. I arched my back and sank down on him. I pitched back and forth and he started groaning. My old boyfriend had never made sounds like that! Oh he was getting off and I was doing it to him. Oh what a feeling!
He gripped his hands on my ass and forced me down on it. He was rocking my world. "Ah, ah, ah, ah!" Every stroke seemed to tweak against a new spot.
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Amazing. My voice climbed in octaves as he clutched my ass cheeks and ground into the depths of my cunt. I didn’t know it could feel this way.
And the feeling kept growing and building. I thought of last night and the desperate way I’d tried to get at this with the inadequate end of my hair brush! Oh god, this was what women were designed to do! I grabbed his back and gasped. I clutched at him with the muscles at the opening of my pussy and I heard him gasp. "I’m going to cum!" he shouted. "Get off! Get off!" He pushed me to the side and stood with his dick twitching, and he started jacking it. Right in my face.
"What?" I said, annoyed, I could still feel the pulse between my thighs and I reached down to stroke it. He shoved his dick close to my mouth and squirted. Beads of white seemed to be shooting everywhere. I clamped my lips together. Son of a bitch!
"What the hell are you doing?" I’ve been slimed!
"Shit, shit, shit" he said, expelling his jizz. "You have some tight pussy.
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Oh my god, that’s a tight pussy. "
When Hank laughed with the thrill of his orgasm, he sounded tender. Like Bobby. Maybe he wasn’t that much of a bastard. His penis pulsed and he squeezed out the last few drops, like milk coming out of a teat. He handed me Kleenex.
"Why’d you do that on my face??" I said, later, while we were pulling ourselves back together.
"I didn’t figure you were on birth control. . . "
He was right. I guess I could forgive him.
My pussy was throbbing. I put on my pants and covered it up, but I could feel where he had opened me. I wanted to run downhill, arms outstretched, calling "I’m a woman! I’m a woman! I get it now!"
I smiled, grateful it was dark.
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I didn’t really want Hank to know he’d pleased me so much. I didn’t want him to know this was all so new to me and I’d really liked it. I got back into the front seat and pulled the seatbelt around me, holding that good feeling close.
"Wanna grab a burger? I don’t know about you, but after that, I’m starving. "
I smiled. "Then will you take me home?"
I reached down and took it in my hand. It was big and it sprang against my fingers, but I didn’t want to play with it like I had wanted to play with Bobby’s. Hank wasn’t a nice person. I aimed it towards my vagina. "There. " I said. Was that too much help? Why would I help him? What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I fight him, jump out of the car and try hiding in the bushes? Because that’s a fucking blackberry bramble out there, Diane, and if I jumped into that briar, and he jumped out after me, I’d be torn to shreds. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want that at all. But how could I complain? I couldn’t imagine myself standing there, saying "oh but no thank you.
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This son of yours is a perv. He just spied on me because he thought I was the type to suck his mentally handicapped brother off, then when I didn’t, he wanted to throw me down and do me. " Words would not suffice. Nervously, I grabbed my backpack. It was heavy with my math book, but I forgot to do my assignment. .
