Paul Gable: Gang raped virgin

"Please, let's go…" Janet sobbed, feeling her still-swollen cunt throbbing between her shaky legs. She had to leave, had to get out of there.

Jack and Bill and Greig stood nearby, now drinking beers, staring silently at the two girls.

"Janet, please, tell me what happened?" The blonde teen kept her eyes lowered, pushing her fork around the dinner plate. It was all she could do to keep her face from blushing furiously as her mother sat opposite at the dinner table interrogating her.

"Nothing. Julie and I just… well, we had a kind of argument and… and I don't wanna talk about it any more," she stammered.

Would her mother believe the story? Janet didn't dare look up to see if her explanation for, her recent strange behavior was having its desired effect.

"Well, arguments between girlfriends aren't all that uncommon," her mother sniffed, folding her fingers in front of her and resting her chin on them. "But I've never seen you moping around the house like this. It's just not like you. And your teachers have been calling up, saying you're not paying attention in class."

"I… I'll be all right. I've just got to work a few things out, that's all."

Janet felt the tears welling up in her eyes again. She blinked rapidly, turning away from her mother while shuffling her feet nervously under the table. She wanted to run away, rush from the chair and go up to her bedroom. It had only been four days since her brutal rape – four, horrible long days since those animals had thrown her down on the floor and fucked her brutally. It had been a miracle that she'd managed to get into the house and up to her room without her mother seeing her.

"I hope so, dear. You were always such a good student. If this spat between you and Julie goes on, well, perhaps I should call her mother and…"

"No, don't! Please," Janet interrupted, inhaling a sharp breath and smoothing her fingers over her cheeks. No tears. Thank God, no tears.

It had taken her friend Julie some time to realize what had actually gone on in the house. When she was halfway to the car helping Janet stumble down the sidewalk it finally hit her. Instantly Julie had wanted to go to the police, to have those animals arrested. But the thought of having publicity about what had happened to her, the thought of watching her mother's face as she learned what happened to her little girl sickened Janet. No, no one must know. It would never happen again.

That dreadful night Julie had managed to keep her mother busy in the kitchen while Janet sneaked upstairs, took off her torn clothes and hid them. Then for the next hour she stood in the shower, soaping herself down, rubbing the suds over her swollen cunt while sobbing half hysterically under the warm water spray. They had fucked her, really fucked her, calling her all sorts of names, hitting her, pinching her, making her take their cocks in her mouth! At times she thought she was going to collapse in the shower in a heap of misery. No, she wasn't a whore, wasn't a slut like Jack and the others said. She was a good girl, a nice girl who had been forced to commit those awful crimes! Cock! Dick, fucked! Yes, she had suffered much, had been forced to submit to Jack and his buddies. But now it was over and she could resume her regular life.

But could she? Even in the shower Janet knew she was telling herself lies. As much as she wanted to believe it, there was something inside her, some little voice that kept making itself heard, telling her that she was nothing more than a little hypocrite. She had enjoyed getting laid, had loved having Jack crawl on top of her, pin her arms down to the floor, then drive his dick up her cunt. The feel of his body, the sensation of his cock pistoning in and out of her pussy while Bill hovered over her, rubbing his hot cock over her cheeks and lips and finally slipping it between her jaws, made her shiver with excitement even now. Try as she might Janet couldn't shake the thoughts from drifting back into her mind, even at school when she tried to pay attention in class.

And those dreams! Those awful, awful dreams that surfaced without warning! She tossed at night, her thoughts taken over by her recent trauma. There were men, lots of men chasing her, their cocks straight, long, thick, the heads dark purple and dripping with cum. She was running, running as fast as she could, her hair streaming out behind her. But it was useless. As she tried to go faster, her legs simply refused to move. And then they were on top of her, fucking her, feeling her, calling her all sorts of filthy names. And she was laughing! Laughing! She wanted more, more fucking more hot dickmeat sawing through her pussy, more hands feeling her buttocks, fingers sticking up her ass, fingers pinching her nipples.

Then she would wake up, her body dripping with perspiration, her cunt swollen, hot, throbbing, gripped in the throes of orgasm. She lay there panting, her nostrils flared, her eyes wide, staring at the ceiling while her heart pounded so hard she thought it would tear through her ribcage. Every muscle was tense, while her pussy demanded cock – all that dickmeat she had been dreaming about!

Again and again that horrible dream happened, making Janet think she was going crazy. She thought several times she should go to the school doctor, her counselor, even some public service analyst. But sooner or later they would feel duty-bound to tell her mother. And then it would hit the fan. There would be leaks, stories going around school. She would never be able to hold her head up again as long as she lived in that neighborhood.

"Well, I won't call her at home if you don't want me to," her mother said, a little miffed. She rose from the table, collecting the dinner dishes. "I just thought I would try to help."

Janet looked at her mother, tried to speak as he woman rinsed the dinner dishes. No, her mother wouldn't understand. She was just too, busy working, trying to support the two of hem ever since her father had died three years ago. No, she couldn't burden her mother with this kind of seamy story, especially when she didn't know what her reaction would be.

Janet rose from the dinner table and excused herself.

"Going upstairs to do homework, dear? Call me if I can help," her mother called out as Julie stepped into the living room.

If only Janet could get help. Julie kept insisting on telling the police, on telling someone. But Janet refused to listen. Instead she bottled up her feelings, wondering at times if Jack's assessment of her wasn't correct after all.

All those horrible, awful dreams about strange men chasing her with hard clicks! Those tight, hot itchy feelings taking over her cunt even while she was in class! God, then were times when she thought some of her male teachers were leering at her, laughing secretly as they watched her squirm under their hot gazes. Was she imagining things, or could they tell she'd been fucked? Could they know she was sitting there, her as moving on the wooden seat, her pussy seething with sexual heat, drip ping with juices, as they talked about one thing or other? Could the boys smell her tight little pussy, so hot she could hardly keep her mind on the lecture?

Maybe she should call Julie again tonight talk to her upstairs on her private line. That was, thank God, the one good thing about this mess. There was that private line in her room, her mother's concession to her privacy.

Janet climbed the stairs, brushing back her long hair, feeling so weak, so tired. As she reached the top of the stairs, Janet heard her phone ring. For a second she stopped, her heart skipping a beat. But no, those men hadn't called for four days. It was all probably a ruse, a meaningless threat. They wouldn't dare try anything, would they? It was probably Julie, calling her up again for some help on her algebra.