Vikki's feet hurt. She was working at Denny's and had been since graduating from Alan B. Sheppard High School in Stone Mill, Nebraska last June. Her silent despair was she would working here the day she died.

Her feet hurt because she was in the middle of her second eight hour shift that day. She had worked a double shift the day before, as well. Vikki was trying to save money. She needed cash to escape Stone Mill. Her parents allowed her to continue to live at home but insisted she contribute. Her contribution rate seem to grow on a weekly basis. There oldest daughter was making money and they felt she owed it to them to "help out."

At 5'10 Vikki was tall young woman who had a set of legs that seem to start at her neck and go all the way to the floor. Vikki had long and very curly jet black hair, sad violet eyes, and 32 c cup breasts. She never wore much make up because she didn't need much makeup. It wasn't that she was beautiful, but naturally attractive and makeup seemed to cover more of her features than enhance. The young woman had the lean figure of a tall young athlete. She had the best set of legs, by far, in Stone Mill. Her shoulders were a bit broad and hips and ass were slender. If she wanted to she could cut an intimidating figure. But Vikki Trammel felt anything but intimidating.

She had been one of the better centers in the history of the Lady Cougars, but not nearly good enough to play even junior college hoops. She was also the star volleyball player, but again not quite good enough. It seemed to Vikki nothing in Stone Mill was good enough.

Vikki was a confirmed lesbian who had never acted on her almost overwhelming desires. She was very much in the closet. Small towns in middle America are not too accepting of anything outside plain vanilla heterosexual relationships. She had witnessed the bullying and beatings that descended on boys who were either perceived as weak and perhaps a tad feminine and thus labeled "fags." They usually left town as quickly as possible, never to be heard from again. They usually didn't even bother with good bye. Vikki didn't blame them and she could only imagine how she would be treated if anyone ever knew.

Her sexual preference had been hardwired into her at conception. Her first sexual stirrings at 12 centered around girls. She fought it at first. She would listen to her girlfriends go on and on about boys. She would watch them flirt and would try her best imitate their actions with the boys in town. But her heart just wasn't in it and it made her feel silly. However, she had an strong desire to fit in the narrow social strata of Stone Mill. When she was 14 she discovered her father's stash of "Penthouse" magazines. What made her young pussy moist were the women, and especially the women-on-women pictorials.

So she pretended. It was a delicate balance. She would have to make up stories about her sexual adventures to keep up with her girlfriends while also making sure she didn't cross the line and enter the badlands of slut country. She had kissed a few boys but they fled when they finally realized a few cold impassionate kisses were the best they could expect. She once let Tommy Hendricks touch her breasts when she was 15 but the hot and clammy feel of his hands did nothing for her. In fact, it made her feel uneasy.

The run-of-the-mill emotional trauma of being a teenage girl in small town, coupled with the physic despair of hiding what she considered a terrible secret, took its toll. One evening two weeks after had experimented with Tommy she almost cracked. Lynnda had invited a few girls over for a slumber party. Another typical slumber party where Vikki secretly admired all the cute girls in their little nightgowns and oversized t-shirts who carried on and on about boys. Late in the evening Vikki and Lynnda sat off to one corner of the bed talking. Lynnda was talking and Vikki happen to look down and see two hard nipples poking out of her Boo-Boo Kitty nightshirt. It wasn't cold in the room. Lynnda caught Vikki's glance and knew she had been busted. Lynnda reached over and grabbed a pillow and clutched it to her chest, then broke off the conversation saying she wanted another coke. When she came back she had on a robe. Not long afterwards Lynnda had called Vikki shyly asking her advice about how to blow her boyfriend Henry Holmes. As part of her cover Vikki had hinted at times she had given a few blowjobs to non-existent boys who supposedly lived in neighboring towns because Vikki found the native sons of Stone Mill boring.

Boring was an understatement.

A little over a year ago, in September of her senior year, Vikki had an idea. She knew at the time it wasn't a good one. She thought if she actually fucked a guy it might bring about some sort of magical "breakthrough" that would allow her to live as a normal teenage girl. Vikki was as normal as anyone else, she just had no frame of reference to understand.

Scott Johnson seemed a likely candidate. He graduated the year before and had hung around town doing nothing. He had joined the navy and was leaving Stone Mill. Vikki thought if she fucked him just before he left no one would ever know. Sure enough, on Tuesday after school she found Scott hanging around the school parking lot. Scott Johnson had never really left Alan B. Sheppard, Jr. high school, he just didn't have to go to class anymore.

"Hi Scott, " Vikki said as she walked up to him. "Well, well... Vikki Trammell. I thought you forgot my name, sweet cheeks." Ugh. Vikki faked a giggle. "No way! Hey, I hear you are shipping out for the navy, sailor boy." "Yeah. I leave Saturday morning for boot camp. Can't wait." "Really? Wow! So, you going to be on a ship?" "Well, after boot camp and training I will." Vikki noticed they were standing alone. "Well... since you are going to be gone so long you want to go out and party Friday night?" Scott Johnson looked like he had won the goddamn lottery. "Sure darling. Your folks still living over on Power Line road?" "Yeah." "Ok. How about I pick you up around 7? Cool?" "Sure. That's cool."

Scott's pickup pulled up in front of Vikki's house about 7:30. He just honked. Without much conversation Scott drove to the pond, the local place where the kids went to park and party. They sat there for awhile with the radio playing while Scott consumed beer. He stretched his arm out across the seat and Vikki scooted closer to him. He pulled he in close for a kiss. He hadn't kissed her too long before he started working at her shirt. Vikki just tried her best to return the kisses, but Scott seemed intent on only jamming his tongue down her throat. He had her shirt and bra off and was sucking at her nipples. It wasn't a sensation Vikki liked. Had Scott paid any attention he would have found it at least odd her nipples didn't respond.

Vikki slipped out of her Nike's as the boy started tugging at her pants. Vikki's pants were now down around her ankles as Scott thrust his hand between the girls long thighs. Vikki instinctively kept her legs together. He started rubbing her pussy in a clumsy uncaring way. She spread her legs a little hoping it would get better. It didn't.

He continued jamming his tongue down her throat as his rough finger rubbed her tuft of jet black pubic hair. He rarely brushed her clit, but only because he didn't know exactly where a girl's clit was located. Suddenly he stopped and started kicking off his boots and pants. Vikki was confronted with a 6 inch cock looming close to her lips. He started pushing it against her mouth but Vikki turned away. "Uhh... sorry... no... I don't do that, " she muttered. "Just want to go right to the main event, uh?" he said. "Uhhhh... yeah... baby."

Scott fished a condom out of his pants pocket and rolled it over his prick. He took the girl's long, shapely legs and unceremoniously spread them apart. Vikki was up against the passenger door, one leg on the dashboard and the other across the top of the seat. Scott lined his cock up against the girls dry pussy lips and started pushing for the entrance.

Vikki was a quite a tomboy as a youngster. Climbing trees, roughhousing, and basically always on the run. As an athlete she was constantly and sometime violently stretching, striding and jumping. Somewhere along the way her hymen gave way and long before Scott's cock arrived. However, even without a in-tact hymen, Vikki Trammel had one tight pussy. She had an enormous amount of muscle that was contracted with fear. Her pussy was neither wet nor swollen with excitement.

When he entered her the pain for Vikki was excruciating. The head of his cock pushed her lips on the first thrust he managed to get the head of his cock in her bone dry pussy. He pulled back and shoved some more, drew back and shoved again. Hot tears of shame and pain began to roll out of Vikki's eyes. Vikki gritted her teeth and prayed it would pass. His prick was tearing flesh as he drove into her, and if he noticed he didn't care. A willing participant, Vikki felt somewhat violated. It was consensual but he should have known something was quite wrong.

Luckily, it was almost over for Vikki. Scott had one of the world's greatest cases of premature ejaculation. With a condom he could last about 45 seconds. Without a condom he was a three-hump wonder. Scott was also a once-a-day man. Once he blew his load he was finished. Any woman who wanted more could suck, plead and stroke but his cock would just lay there as limp as a dead man's. Vikki was just about say stop when he erupted. "Fucking slut bitch. Fucking, shit... fucking take it..." the young man roared as he spurt his cum.

Without any further ado he pulled his cock out of the her pussy. Vikki sat there propped up against the door, her legs splayed across the cab of the truck, and tried to cover herself with her hands. He pulled the condom off his cock and tossed it out the window with a grunt. She unfolded her long, lovely legs and quickly started getting dressed. Scott sat there looking straight ahead for a bit, his pants around his ankles, then reached for another beer.

She asked him to take her home.

Vikki sort of shutdown after that evening. She didn't even want to put up the charade of being interested in boys. She withdrew from her girlfriends. She spent long, lonely evenings and weekends at home. All she wanted was the fuck out of Stone Mill, but for the life of her couldn't see that coming to pass.

Eleven months later, Scott Johnson would learn how Vikki felt that evening. After going AWOL the second time the navy decided the brig might help they young sailor's attitude. He drew a 30 day sentence. Never the bright boy, he popped off to the wrong group guys in the yard. They bent him over and held him down and dumped half a bottle of lube in his ass, not for his pleasure but for their own. The same hot tears of shame and pain Vikki felt now flowed out of his eyes. The only difference was these boys had some staying power.

Dr. LaRene Winston walked into the Denny's and a tall girl with long dark hair asked her smoking or non-smoking. Dressed in an expensive tan pantsuit, expensive shoes and a colorful Hermes scarf she clearly wasn't from around Stone Mill. Her 5'1 slightly robust frame carried a nice set of 34 D cup breasts. She smelled of Channel No. 5 and offered the girl a brilliant smile that contrasted nicely against her dark ebony skin. Vikki was dumbstruck just looking at the smaller woman.

LaRene had just checked into the Super 8 next door. A night in Stone Mill certainly wasn't on the good doctor's travel agenda. Dr. LaRene Winston, PH.D. Berkeley and BS Stanford was a director of research at a large biotech company located in San Francisco. She had been invited to present some initial findings at a select conference at the Cleveland Clinic. She decided to take a few days and drive I-80 to Cleaned rather than fly. The closest she had ever come to Nebraska was when she flew over it on a Boeing 767, glancing down from a window in business class. "See some of the country, " was her reasoning for driving this time rather than flying. THAT wouldn't happen again, she promised herself.

"What a truly fucked up way to end a trip, " she thought as she took her seat. The white diamond Cadillac CTS had most likely blown a thermostat, according to the boy who worked at his daddy's garage. The boy, Henry Holmes, thought he and his dad could fix the car but it wouldn't be until tomorrow until they could get the part from Huebner Cadillac in Lincoln. She counted herself fortunate the car did start it's steam engine impression until just before the exit on I-80 marked Stone Mill. The boy said they would call her as soon as the car was ready and mentioned it might be expensive. They boy ball parked it at $400. Dr. Winston inwardly sighed in relief at the modest amount.

Henry told LaRene the new Super 8 was the best place to stay in Stone Mill. He went on and on about how new and nice it was. She just hoped the towels were clean. The boy walked her over to his old red F-150 pickup and opened the door. LaRene looked inside and wrinkled her nose thinking about all the nasty things this boy had done in the cab of this truck. She just hoped none of it would stain her clothes during the ride into town.