THIS IS ALL FANTASY
This story was howevere inspired by the sight of young girl stupidly wandering into the gent’s toilet on a camping site, where I assumed her father would be. I later saw her alone in the play area behind the toilets, which was wooded, had tree ropes and a dried out ditch.
At last, a quiet lane, just off the motorway with a stopping area and shelter. I pulled the van in, rushed out and dropped my jeans just inside the belt of trees and pissed the four pints of lager I had consumed some two hours before. Shouldn’t have been driving, but I don’t fucking care. As the flow gushed, I gazed round, being alerted by voices. They were distant, but I spotted rooftops and realised this copse was only about 50 metres deep, split between the lane and the suburb beyond.
I was thankful for the piss, having had to drive fast, non-stop and hard from the previous stop, which was a pub on the outskirts of a small town, where I had met some people and enjoyed their company. The pissing was down to a dribble and I started to shake off, when I was startled by a small cry of distress. It was near and I twisted, still shaking my cock, to see a child caught up in some thorny shrub. The hem of her floral dress had snagged it and I don’t think she knew I was there. Zipping up, I glanced all round to see if any other person was in the vicinity coming to help. The scrubby growth was low enough so I would see any adults. The children’s voices were way off, nearer the houses. The kid still hadn’t noticed me as I weighed up the situation. She was fat but pretty, the dress the wrong sort to be worn in a rough wooded area. On her feet were elaborate strappy flat heeled, pink sandals. The van was four steps away; she was four steps in the opposite direction. The old red mist blurred me and I stepped to her
I asked if I could help her, startling her initially, but she nodded a shy yes. I freed her dress, which just about reached her dimpled knees, clamped my hand over her mouth and lifted her the short distance to the van. Fat, heavy, but no match for my strength, she wriggled furiously as I slid the side door open and bundled her in onto some empty plastic cement and sand bags. A dirty rag was in easy reach and I stuffed it into her mouth and roughly flung her down to the floor amongst the tools and general living detritus scattered around the van, which was my temporary home. The fall took the wind out of her and within seconds I had bound her wrists with gaffer tape and secured the rag in her mouth with the same. I leered down at her splayed legs, the dress high on her thighs, noticing with disgust that she was wearing pink Lycra shorts under it. I bound her ankles with tape too. I checked the copse and there was no one around and I could hear no voices nearby, apart form the kids in the distance, so I drove off after turning the van, keeping the engine noise low, before flooring the pedal and hitting the motorway.
An hour later, the motorway service station was perfect; huge, busy and packed with all sorts of trade vehicles, which I parked amongst. It was nearing seven in the evening and I was hungry, so I checked the kid who looked fearful but was still secure, so I went in for a meal. I chatted to a couple of truckers, who told me they were thinking of getting a taxi into the local town and seeing if they could pick up some hookers. We discussed places we had had some success; I made up my stories to keep in the loop with them and declined their invitation. After they left, I went back to the van and pulled the inner curtain across behind the front seats. Now the rear body of the van was totally shielded from the outside, although light was allowed in via the vent I opened on the roof.
I cleared some space, dragged in some more plastic bags round the kid and took a couple of photos of her, and then knelt down, showing her the knife I had got from a box. I told her that if she made any noise or struggled when I took off the tape and gag I would kill her and her eyes were wide in horror, but on growling at her she nodded. I released her legs and arms, then the tape from her face. I brandished the knife again, close to her eyes as I slowly pulled the rag out of her pretty little mouth.
I asked how old she was and she told me fourteen and could I take her to her mummy, with a cute little lisp. She seemed kind of simple, sort of not all there. I lowered the knife to the hem of her dress, gasped the material taut and slit the garment straight up the front, the sharp tool easily slicing the embroidered pattern across her flat chest. She whimpered and I raised the knifepoint again and she started to cry silently. I stroked her lardy puppy fat chest and rotund stomach, which had no sign of a waistline and noting the almost imperceptible, pale, little smudges where her nipples had sprouted. There was kind of more fat than tit. I smoothed my hand over the incredibly soft skin and roughly pinched and twisted each nipple, which immediately reddened and bruised and she mewed with pain.
Stripping because my cock was solid and hurting in the confines of my grubby jeans. I peeled them off together with my shorts and my dick sprung out, twanging hard against my belly. I asked her if she had seen one before and she shook her head. I shuffled over her face and slapped her hard with the rod of my cock. She wept some more and I played the bare knob over her sweet lips, her nose crinkling and her lips curling with distaste. I knew it would be sticky and smelly, as I hadn’t washed it since being at the pub earlier. I told her to lick it and she shook her head and I slapped her really hard with it and then my hand - snarling at her. The tears flowed, but on forcing, she started to lick the smegma crust round my purple helmet. Impatiently, I forced her mouth open and stuffed it in, her eyes were boggling.
I knew I wouldn’t get a good blow job without teaching her, which needed time and turned my attention to her shorts, which in the last few seconds had turned from pink to a dusky red and I realised she had pissed herself. The non absorbent plastic bags had created a puddle under her. I ignored that, I could clean myself later, fuck her. I didn’t bother with buttons or zips, I just wrenched the sodden garment off her, finding that she also wore a pair of plain white soaked panties, which were removed in one, to expose her little puddingy pussy. I was delighted to find she didn’t have a neat slit. There was a nice thick fold, glistening moist and I thrust her legs apart and dived in with my mouth, savouring the acidic taste of a virginal pissed vagina. I flung her legs up and bent her double to see her arsehole. It was so neat, the proverbial star shaped flower bud and I licked her piss out of its broad dimple. Before I left the taster, I sucked her labia into my mouth and gave it a bite with my lips, which made her yelp. I prodded the knife on her neck.
After taking more photos, I positioned myself between her flabby legs and aimed my cock head at her cunt. It found its mark immediately without any help and as it lodged amongst her delicious soft fanny folds, I banged in hard and dry securing two inches. I was prepared for the scream and clamped my fist over her mouth and pulled out. Her cunt lips folded together immediately, but I plunged in again, with more urgency and slid in four inches. Remaining in her, enjoying the incredibly tight pinch of her virgin cunt, I shagged her relentlessly, the blood on my shaft and smeared round her hole of no consequence until I came and flooded the fat little girl’s snatch with a load equal to the last load, earlier that day.
I flopped down heavily on her body, my heaving breath mixed with her sobs, our two totally disparate bodies stuck together in a slime of sweat and joined by my six inch tool still lodged firmly inside her young twat. It started to soften, but I didn’t pull out, I let her muscles push it out, after all I had done all the fucking hard work so far. On its release, I rolled off the kid and sat alongside her tear-racked body where she remained spread legged and bleeding from her bruised and torn slit.
Curious as always, I parted her flaps as she flinched at my touch. I ignored her pleas and flattened them, finding the hole I had just enlarged somewhat, to search for her hot spot. The tiny button glowed in its little crevasse and I flicked it casually, getting a very energetic jerking response from her. I told her to hold her fingers on her cunt lips and hold it open. She obeyed without a threat and I photographed her doing it and then a close-up.
I hefted her legs up and over her chest, her shitter exposed once more, but not pristine clean any more, but slimy and bloody. I prodded it and she reacted as I expected, tightening her ring piece, but I forced my middle finger in as far as it would go. I finger fucked her bum for a while and inserted a second finger, while I twiddled her clitty. She seemed to be reacting the right way, her sexuality alerted by the attention to the most intimate nerve.
Needing a piss I kneeled over her crotch, keeping her legs high and managed to insert the thick bulb of my dick in her turd tunnel. I wasn’t hard but still had some solidity and soon I was pissing into her bottom. My hot urine went everywhere, of no consequence, it would be sorted later. I pulled out and stuck it into her cunt a little way and then to cap it all, I aimed the one eyed monster at her face and let her have the last knockings of my urine. She was a fucking mess.
Tired and now satiated, I cleaned myself up, dragged the bags from under the child, making sure I carefully harvested our joint piss puddles and stuffed them near the door, leaving her lying on the bare ply board floor. I gagged her tear/piss stained face again, taping it secure. Her wrists and ankles were also bound and I got out the maps. Finding some remote lanes is never difficult in this fair land of England and I drove in darkness for about half an hour. The lane was perfect, no buildings, no traffic and I could park off the road. After removing the tapes from her arms and legs, I dumped her in a shallow ditch under the hedgerow and made off into the night, flooring the pedal to make the wheels spin and hopefully spoil tyre tracks, although the van was fitted with four different makes and tread patterns anyway. I had to think ahead. Her clothes stayed in the van, but I left her sandals on her feet. I drove for an hour, knowing I had freed her to be able to walk somewhere on this humid August night.
The next day, having parked up for a sleep on a truckers lay-by where I burned her things behind a hedge, I went back through the photos on my high quality digital camera and viewed for the first time the pictures I had secured that morning at the pub.
Two in a day was good going and I looked back to that morning helped by the pictures.