Chapter 1

All I could smell was Frank's liquored breath. All I could feel was his callused, rough hands making my skin buck. It was awful. My own father. Well, really he was my stepfather, but that didn't make it right. I pulled at the waistband of my long- legged silk pajamas to make sure they were still snug. Keeping them on was part of the bargain and so was the tightly buttoned top that I'd fastened at the neck with a safety pin just to be sure.

Frank kissed a wet spot in the hollow under my chin and I pushed my face against the pillow and closed my eyes. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to cry. Then I thought of the car. Yes, I could try to forget Frank and think of the car--the pretty little powder blue coupe he'd promised to buy for me if I agreed to let him maul me through a layer of silk pajamas for a night. I felt his fingers touch one of my knees and slowly edge upward. Even through the sheer material I could feel the indentation he was making in my tan skin. It was as if the fingers were melting me, scarring my body for life. Quickly I clamped my thighs tight and shook my head.

"You said we'd just hug!" I swallowed to push away another wave of nausea. "You promised, Frank."

He pulled his scarred face out of my neck and smiled. "You can't expect old Frank to act like a corpse with his pretty little fifteen-year-old in bed with him now can you?"

I looked at his short, cruel face covered with a grey stubble--the bad teeth, the crooked eyes. Oh God, I wanted to die.

"But you said we'd stay dressed," I insisted, voice trembling. "And already you took off your shirt."

Frank smoothed his palm over my long brown hair and let it come to rest on my shoulder. Then he leaned forward and covered my mouth with his. I could feel the tongue trying to work its way between my lips and a funny, shaky turbulence went through my loins. Quickly I squeezed my thighs even tighter. Oh Mama, I thought, I'm doing things you told me never to do. Why did you die? Why did you die and leave me alone with Frank? Now he was wiggling around down there and a new sensation of something long and hard brushed over my tummy.

"Frank!" I cried, pushing his shoulders back, "that's enough!"

His voice was edged suddenly with whiskey and hate. "Listen you silly little cunt, if you want that Goddamn car you'd better let me have some fun."

My mind fell into a black fear as he covered me once more. The salt smell of his chest and the stiff hair was pushing me down. I shut my eyes and lay there... too sick and scared to resist. The car. That pretty little car with its leather upholstery and shiny paint. I'd have my license in a month. I'd be sixteen and free. It would be worth it, I said over and over again... it would be worth it.

"Oh you beautiful little piece of ass," Frank muttered, "I oughta give it to you good..."

Frantically I jerked a hand free from his grasp and struck out with all the force I could muster. The smack scared me and I felt Frank's head twist as he tried to escape the blow. Then his ham-like hand caught my wrist and squeezed until tears of pain roiled into my eyes.

"You try that again and I will fuck you," he growled.

My small breasts rose and fell as I sucked air. "If you do anything bad to me I'll go to the police. I swear I will!" Why did my voice shake so? And what was the awful tickling where my slit had gone mushy? My face flushed with shame.

"Calm yourself down," Frank said. "I ain't that stupid." He grabbed the bottoms to my pajamas and pulled them down to the place where my brown pubic curls began. "Now pull your top up!"

"Frank... I won't..."

"You don't have to take it off. Just pull the bastard up." He pinched my face between his big thumb and a rough finger. "Do it or I'll kick your ass."

With shaking hands I did what he wanted. I heard him reach to the bedside table and unscrew a jar lid. Now Frank was smearing something thick and greasy onto my tummy. In the dim light of the room I could see my exposed skin shine.

"Oh God, Frank," I whined. "That stuff feels awful."

His big arms went around me again and a hot tongue penetrated my mouth. Frank was rubbing his penis up and down against the Vaselined skin of my belly. It was so big and hot and hard. His balls bumped against my mound each time he moved forward and I could feel the bulging ridge of his horrible cock as it slipped over my navel and down again. My legs felt so thin and weak under his hairy thighs and my crotch had begun to feel oddly heavy.

"Kiss me!" he spit, but I made him have to take it. Frank was pushing down against me harder and harder and grunting like a pig. The shame of it! The horrible, horrible shame. I knew he was about to come, and the bile pushed into the back of my throat.

Semen. That was what the book I'd found in the library called it. The words had blasted out of the page at me, describing the way the fluid spurted from the tiny orifice at the tip of the male glans. I'd had a hard time breathing as I read those words. My hands had sweated until the pages stuck to them and the wetness in my crotch had made me redden with angry embarrassment. Finally I'd ripped the filthy words from the book and flushed them down the toilet in the girl's restroom. Why did men write such evil books? Why did people want to read them?

And now Frank was going to come on me. His movements had become more frantic and his breath scorched my ear. "Little bitch," he gasped.

"No... Frank... please..."

His fingers dug into my face. "Kiss me, I said!"

I opened my mouth and let him fill it with his tongue. His spit overflowed and wet my chin and neck. Frank was hurting me with his hips and I could feel my belly pressed inward by the enormous swollen cock that slipped over the skin of my body. It was bigger than it had been at first... so horribly huge. All of a sudden Frank held his body up and rubbed slower so that just the head of his organ touched me as it slithered back and forth.

"Goddamn!" he gurgled. Something hot jetted against the bottom of one of my titties. In the dimness of the bedroom I could see Frank's arm muscles trembling. Another burning lick of semen sprayed onto my belly, and a sharp sour odor filled my nostrils. So that was what it smelled like. Frank pumped a few more times, fell into the slime and then rolled over beside me. Something was oozing down my side, puddling on the sheet. My stomach jumped violently, but somehow I managed to stumble to the bathroom and lock the door before everything came up. Gagging and coughing, I vomited my supper into the commode while the long whitish strings of Frank's seed dripped from my tummy and splattered on the cold floor.

After I had the tub filling with steamy water, I wiped the mess from my stomach and breasts. It was then that I noticed the lips of my pussy were a little swollen. Tenderly I touched them and my hand came away slick... slick with my own wetness. There was a light tap on the door.

"Shelly baby," Frank said from outside, "you done real fine. Come on back to bed when you're freshened up and tomorrow we'll go down and get that car for..."

"Can't I get in my own bed now?" I cried at the door. "I let you come on me... isn't that enough?"

There was a pause and when Frank spoke again his voice was threatening. "I said all night... remember?"

Oh God! Yes, I had agreed. I'd agreed to spend the whole night with him. All for that little blue Ford.

Frank worked as a laborer when he felt like it and drank away whatever he didn't spend on groceries and rent. When Mom had been alive she took waitress jobs to get us by, but there was never anything left for me. I bought the few cheap dresses I owned with baby sitting money.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about fancy clothes, Shelly," she'd said once while sewing in a dark, cool corner of the living room. "Just be a good girl and your time will come." Her eyebrows had raised then and she'd leaned forward in the rocker. "You do know what I mean by being a good girl, don't you?"

"Yes, Mom." Her advice had been indelibly imprinted on my brain at least a hundred times, but still the words made my heart beat faster with an unexplained excitement.

"Never let a man touch you around those... special places." Mom always perspired on her forehead first whenever she started lecturing me, and that day the salty droplets were sliding down her nose.

"Lord knows I let your real father do it too often." Her fingers had moved again on the material she was mending. "As soon as you were born I drew the line." Mom had sighed then, her hands falling limply into her lap. "It's awful for a woman. A dirty, ugly thing like that shoved into your body. And the noises they make while they rut--It's a wonder the Lord doesn't strike them dead on the spot."

Though I knew it was wrong to be excited, my pussy had gotten damp from listening to her and in my confused and breathless state I'd blurted out a question. "Why did you get married again, Ma, if you don't like to... do that?"

Outside the locusts had started up their whirring and I'll never forget the way the sun came through a broken pane and tossed rainbows on the rug. Mom had stood up without a word and come across the room to me. Her lips trembled as she stared unbelieving into my face. Then she had slapped me, slapped me hard across the mouth.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that again," she rasped. "I married your stepfather so you would have food on your plate and clothes on your back. Can I help it if sometimes he forces me to..." Her words had been choked off with an anguished sigh and I was left alone. A month after that she was gone forever--dead in her sleep from a heart attack.

Even at the funeral my stepfather was drunk. All the way home he cried against my shoulder and hugged me close, swearing he'd take good care of me. My own world had never been all that bright anyway, but now it was torn in shreds. It wasn't Mama being gone that bothered me as much as my instinctive fear of Frank. Being alone with him in that rambling, ancient house would be strange, I remember thinking at the time.

At first Frank splurged on presents for me, and, of course, I was overjoyed. He bought me two new dresses and a pair of brown penny loafers I'd been wanting--even some new panties and a couple of slips. With only a month or so to go until my sixteenth birthday the new clothes gave me a grown up feeling, a feeling of sophistication. Sometimes though, at school, I had second thoughts about my growing older. Always before I'd felt skinny and plain, especially compared to the more rounded girls my age like the cheerleaders and Senior Prom Queen. But with my new clothes I began to get long looks from boys in the hall, even whistles when I crossed the school yard on my way to class. When Buck Johnston looked at me I just knew he was trying to see the soft bump of my mound through the thin dress. The times Jerry Tilson got up close behind me in lunch line so he could peek over my shoulder and see under the low-cut blouse, I'd get so dizzy I'd have to hold onto the lunch counter for support and my small, braless titties blushed red under his gaze.

The way the short skirts and tight tops clung and rubbed against my body made me feel wicked and slightly giddy. When I got home in the afternoon I couldn't help but turn in front of the mirror in my room, excited by the way my rear end swept out in a gentle curve under a bright red mini. I never wore socks with my loafers and my narrow feet and trim ankles complimented the long lean lines of my legs.

Once I was undressing for bed and noticed the way my still immature breasts quivered with every move. For some reason I cupped my hands under them, hefting their growing roundness. It seemed innocent enough to touch the nipples, but when I brushed my fingertips across them, they rose like magic and my slit went all buttery like it did sometimes. I was immediately ashamed and began giving my hair long angry strokes with a brush. What made getting undressed such a big thing I wondered. Irritated at myself for letting my emotions get the upper hand, I faced my reflected image once more and, with fingers hooked in the elastic band of my panties, I started to skin them down. I had to conquer that silly, fluttery feeling once and for all. But as I slipped the sensuous material over my almost boyish hips, it was as if my body wanted to be undressed in a certain way. Slowly I started rocking my pelvis from side to side. That was all it took to tell me I was sinning. The friction of my inner lips rubbing against themselves sent shock waves of electricity up my back and tummy. Quickly I stepped out of the clinging, lacy things and ran to the bathroom to splash my face with cold water.

"I won't, Mama," I said over and over again. "I won't... I won't."

Then I was asked out for a date.

At first I almost turned it down, but when Rodney Gibson told me he was doubling with Bud Carnes and Trixy Goodman I decided to go. Bud was a three-year letterman in football and Trixy was the prettiest pompom girl in the pep club. They had been dating quite a while and, though I didn't know Bud much, Trixy had always been nice to me, even though I was a nobody. With Trixy along I'd feel safe.

As it turned out, my date was even shier than I was, and for the whole first movie we sat there staring straight ahead while Bud and Trixy, who had quickly taken over the back seat, moaned and kissed from behind. My blushing escort finally asked me what I wanted from the snack bar and bolted from the car as if it were full of rattlesnakes. For a while I pretended to watch the movie again, but the noises from the back seat were becoming more and more intimate all the time. Poor Trixy was having to put up with Bud's advances. The more I thought about it the more worried I became. I decided to take one quick peek through the crack in the front seat, just to make sure Trixy was all right.