Copyright© 1997, Phil Phantom, ALL Rights Reserved

I met Sharon in my junior year of high school. She stole my heart on first sight. Intelligent, warm, frisky, fun-loving, describes her personality. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen in person. She's petite, nicely-developed but without big breasts. Most women would kill for her hair. It is long, wavy, and always bouncy and full. She swings her mane like a sexy movie star. Her legs could stop an express train. She doesn't walk, she flounces--almost a dance. She's full of energy and a passion for life. She radiates positive vibes to everyone around her. Consequently, she's very popular.

I knew my chances of winning her love were practically nil. Some call me a nerd, though I don't wear glasses or carry the pencil and pen variety pack in my pocket. I'm not physically adept. Sports hold no interest for me. My one strong suit was my intellect. I applied that intellect to winning her heart. I wrote her anonymous love sonnets, put a white rose in her locker everyday after spying her using her combination, and wrote her passionate declarations of my love. It took three months for me to expose my identity to her, three more to get her to go out with me, six more before she agreed to be my steady, and in the middle of my Senior year, Sharon said yes to my proposal of marriage.

Early in my courtship, after telling her I wanted to marry her, I swore an oath to remain a virgin until our wedding night. We were not going steady at the time. She thought my pledge was cute. She then launched a discussion on what constitutes virginity. We came to the mutual conclusion that true virginity was a triad of genital, anal, and oral virginity. I told her I was a total virgin and would remain so. She told me she was a total virgin, but said, "If we do get married, you might be the only total virgin in our honeymoon suite." She said it in a playful, teasing way, but her words strung my ears. I just never thought of her as someone who could lie down with a man she didn't love, or that she could love anyone but me. I also felt like kicking myself for making that stupid pledge.

I sweated out the months between my declaration and our going steady. Each time she went out on a date, I managed to quiz her as to the state of her virginity, always in a delicate, humorous way, but dead serious. She didn't mind my queries, and saw right through them. Soon after that, after a date, she'd come right out and say, "It's still there (meaning her hymen)," or something licentious like, "He didn't even put a dent in it."

She floored me one day by saying, "Boy, we sure had a close call last night. Thank god for pre-mature ejaculation." Another time, she told me she defended my precious hymen with a blow job, sacrificing one third of her virginity.

The day before she took my ring, she went out with Mark Springer, our quarter-back. I could not sleep all night. I called her at six in the morning, waking her to ask how she was. She groggily said, "You mean how is your hymen? Can't you wait until a decent hour, like noon? I can assure you its status won't change between now and then."

My heart fell. She heard it fall and said, "Relax. It's still there, damnit! It took more than a blow job, though. My ass is still leaking at it hurts like hell. I should make you kiss it. I did that for you, you know. Look on the bright side; I'm still a one-third virgin."

What do you do when the love of your life tells you she sucked and took in the ass the most desirable guy in the school, for you. I was so relieved, I said thanks. She said, "You're welcome. Good bye! [Click.]." I was back on the line at noon, begging her to go steady. She took pity on me and accepted my ring.

The next few months were the best of my life. Sharon and I were inseparable. Our love blossomed. We talked of marriage and a life together, named our kids, and plotted our future. When we set a date--two years off--we made formal announcements. My feet never touched the ground. I never touched her in a sexual way, and she never offered any services to me. We did, however, spend hours kissing and holding each other.

While we were dating, I never brought Sharon near my house. My house was a zoo, and my family--step family mostly--were animals. I lived in a run-down suburban home with my mother, step-father, and four step brats, all boys ranging in age from ten to fifteen. My step-father, Bucky, drove a dump truck. Bucky treated me like a red-headed step child, though my hair is blond. I do all of the stepping and fetching; his kids don't do anything except create work for my mother.

Bucky is one of the most vulgar men I've ever met, and I've met a bunch. My mother attracts that type like a dead squirrel attracts flies. Between marriages, Mom brought home some truly skuzzy humanoids. In truth, I was relieved when she married Bucky. Bucky may be vulgar, but he's not physically abusive. He loves my mother, though he treats her like trash. I've known for years that my mother feeds on abuse--physical or mental. I've lived through the bondage freaks, the slave scene, the orgy set, and a few real perverts. I've actually seen my mother gang banged in my living room at the age of eleven. I've had to feed her and attend to her toilet while she was tied naked to a chair for days on end. I've sat in on photo sessions where Mom had to pose with dildoes and other women. Then, I had to live with the humiliation when those photos--published in a porno magazine--got circulated around school. Thankfully, we moved away right after that.

So Bucky isn't so bad by comparison. Crude and vulgar, I can live with. I hope he stays with Mom for the rest of her life. The only problem was Sharon. No way did I want Sharon exposed to Bucky and his brood. It would be like placing a lamb among wolves. Therefor, I went to great lengths to keep her away. After our engagement, though, Sharon wanted to get to know her new family. She became adamant, even after I told her what they were like. I reluctantly consented, and managed to bring her by when I knew Bucky was working or hunting. I kept him from seeing her for two months. It wasn't long before I got pressure from both Bucky and Sharon to bring her by so they could get acquainted. I fought this as long as I could.

Sharon loved my family and they adored her. She thinks it's is neat the way my mom takes abuse from my step-brothers. She found it amusing that Bucky threw away all of Mom's underclothes and makes her wear ridiculously shot skirts, tight sweaters, and high heels. Sharon laughs openly when one of them flips up Mom's skirt or pinches her boobs. I've seen her instigating abuse. Once, when we were on the sofa and Mom was cleaning the fireplace, giving us an unintentional rear beaver shot, Sharon leaned over and told little Kevin, "I dare you to go up and stick your finger in her pussy." He did and Sharon thought that was the funniest thing she ever saw. I think I was more shocked by Sharon's vulgar term for the vagina. Nothing foul could come from Sharon. In my mind, her shit came out in little perfumed plastic capsules.

The day I'd dreaded arrived. Sharon was invited to dinner. I picked her up. On seeing her, my mouth dropped open. I never saw her looking so sexy. She wore a short dress with an open bodice, high heels, and had been to the beauty parlor. She wore heavy make-up. She looked like a Sunday school whore. She could not have picked a worse outfit to wear in front of Bucky, and I begged her to reconsider jeans, tennis shoes, a sweat-shirt, and no make-up. She brushed me off with a simple, "Don't be silly."

I was shitting razor blades all the way to my house. Sharon seemed quite calm. When Bucky saw Sharon enter the house, his eyes sprang out and he began salivating. He took her in a big bear hug, groping her ass with his greasy paws, welcoming her to the family, astonished that I could get such a fine piece (his words). I wanted to die, but Sharon took the groping and the hugs warmly. Bucky turned her loose and stood back to admire her body, telling her to turn slowly in place. Sharon blushed, smiling, and basking in the lewd attention. Bucky said, "You know what I like best about your legs, honey."

I went pale. I knew what was coming. I knew Sharon would freak out and leave, never to return. I wanted to stop her from answering. Sharon smiled her cutsy smile and said, "No what?"

"They got feet at one end and pussy at the other."

Sharon laughed. She didn't bat an eye. She said, "We have something in common all ready, because that's what I like about them too."

Her impulsive response had an immediate impact on Bucky. He held out his hand and said, "Sweety, if you're going to join this family, then we have to have us a little private talk."

Sharon cast me a curious look. I tried to signal with my expression, "No! Don't go!" She offered him her hand then followed dutifully right into his bedroom. Bucky slammed the door shut, collapsing my world. Mark, Bucky's oldest boy, taunted, "Dad's going to fuck your little fiancee." The four boys dashed for the closed door and pressed their ears to it." Mom came over and held me, saying, "Now, now, you know what a tease Bucky can be. He's just making you think bad thoughts, dear. Don't get upset."

The boys took delight in running in and giving updates, like: I heard a zipper; she's moaning; they're on the bed. After ten minutes, the updates weren't necessary. We could hear the squeaky bed springs and the banging of the headboard all through the house. I fell into a chair in a catatonic daze. The boys were merciless in their taunts. Brian shouted, "It looks like Dad added a new whore to the stable." I wanted to kill him, but all I could do was stare fire at him.

They stayed in the bedroom for over an hour, and by the sounds, had three sessions of intercourse. Mom had the food on the table, getting cold, waiting for Bucky to finish with my love. He emerged from the room moving Sharon ahead of him. He brought her before us, holding her by the shoulders like a trophy--her bra and panty in his left hand. Cum trails ran down both her legs, clear to her high heels. Her right shoulder strap had been ripped apart and the flap of dress material kept sliding off her right breast. She caught it just in time each time it threatened to uncover her nipple, but then stopped trying. The flap slid then flopped down, baring her right breast. She looked at me as if to say, "I tried, but I'll be dammed if I'm going to hold it up all night."

Bucky tossed the bra and panties at Mom, the panties landing on her head. He said, "She understands the house rules. Throw those damn things away." He announced, "All right. Listen up. We have a new member of our happy family. I want you guys to treat her with the same respect and consideration that you treat my dear wife."

This brought howls, cheers, clapping, and jumping joy to his four delinquents. I saw Sharon smile. I could have crawled under a sheet of paper. Brian said, "Can we fuck her, Dad?"

"Son, if she will part her pretty legs for you, you'd be a damn fool not to."