J Watson - Hot piece cousin

She didn't answer him. So this was what it had come down to. Being mauled while she waited for her bus. Being insulted. Being treated like she didn't have feelings. He leaned over and put his rough hand back on her knee. This time he squeezed harder. His breath was foul.

"Listen," he said. "I know someplace where we can go. I've got a big one. A whopper. You'll love it. I can put it up your cunt until you beg for mercy!"

She was not shocked or surprised. She knew she deserved this kind of treatment. What kind of girl allowed children, truck drivers, and relatives to use her any way they pleased? A bad girl. It was no wonder that men thought she was a pushover. She was tight-lipped as she half turned toward the man.

"Leave me alone," she said. "Or I'm going to scratch your evil eyes out."

There were men standing across the street watching. Probably there had been some kind of bet as to how fast this man could get her to his room. Well it wasn't going to work this time. She had no desire to go anywhere with the creepy-looking man.

"Get out of here," she repeated. "You'd better go right now. Right this minute."

"Okay, sister," the man said.

He wasn't so sure of himself any more. He got up and walked lazily across the street. He talked to the men for a while. She heard the rough laughter and she saw their leers but she ignored them. It was only ten minutes before, the bus was due to win and she knew she could wait that long.

She crossed her legs, aware that her skirt had slipped far above her knees. She tugged it down, again aware of the sly glances of the men across the street. She hoped they were getting their eyes full because this was going to be the last time they ever saw her.

"Your bus, Miss," the ticket-taker said.

She sighed with relief as she saw the bus coming in. The bus was early and she certainly didn't mind. She wanted to get the dust of the little town off her heels as fast as she could. She was aware of a feeling inside. She felt better than she had in a long while.

She handed her bag up to the driver and got on board. She was the only person on the bus. She slipped into the front seat.

"Going far?" the driver asked.

"Back to the city," she said.

"I don't blame you," he said. "I'd shake this little town, too. Nothing here but a few farms. No action. Say, how about us doing the town together when we get in?"

"That's an idea," she said, smiling at him.

The smile left her face when she saw the beat-up pick-up truck pulling into the bus station. Dirk got out of the front seat with a swaggering look. He held his can of beer and she saw him stagger a little. He'd drunk a little more than usual.

Her heart sank as he walked straight for the bus. "Please," she told the driver, "let's leave. Right now."

"Can't do it," he said. "I've got to leave on time and…"

He stopped talking as Dirk pulled himself up into the bus. He took a long swallow from his beer. Sherry felt weak and beaten. She knew she could not leave if Dirk wanted her back. There was no way she could fight Dirk. He was more man then men twice his age. At seventeen he was already larger than the bus driver.

"Well," he said, placing his beefy hands on his hips, "leaving so soon, cousin? And without even saying good-bye?"

"I have to go back," she said. "It's time. I didn't plan to stay as long as I did."

"Shit," Dirk said. "You're not leaving. Get off the bus. Put your bag in the truck."

"Now wait a Goddamned minute," the driver said.

It was a mistake. Dirk reacted violently. He turned and slammed the bus driver against his seat. He waved one rough hand before the man's face. He poured the rest of his beer in the driver's lap.

"Open your mouth again," Dirk said, "and I'll break your fucking head."

The bus driver got very still. Dirk patted him on the head and turned his full attention back to Sherry. He was no longer grinning and his eyes were hard. Sherry suddenly felt as if someone had struck her very hard in the pit of her stomach.

"Get your bag." Dirk said.

She picked up her bag and left the bus. She put her bag into the front of the pick-up and climbed in beside it. She heard the jeering calls of the men across the street, and she knew what they were thinking. She was fair pine now. She had tried to leave and Dirk was bringing her back. Any man could try his luck and probably get all he wanted.

Dirk got into the front seat with her. He didn't start the truck. He leaned back against his door and placed one rough hand on the steering wheel.

"What were you thinking, cunt?" Dirk asked. "Did you think we were just going to let you walk away?"

"Why not?" Sherry asked. "I'm not your slave."

"Yes you are," Dirk said matter of factly. "You're our fuck slave. You belong to us."

"That's not true," Sherry protested angrily. "I don't belong to anyone."

He grabbed her head. His thick, stubby fingers grasped her by the hair and pulled her against him. His beer breath blew into her face.

"Who the fuck do you think you're arguing with?" Dirk asked. "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. You're a fucking slave until I say different."

"No," she protested.

He started slapping her. His rough hand left red marks on her cheeks. She tasted blood and knew he'd cut her lip. She started wondering if he intended to kill her. She wondered why someone didn't break it up. She tried to claw his face and she got one fingernail into his skin. She ripped downward and she saw a deep gash from his nose to his neck.

"Bitch!" he screamed.

This time he hit her solidly with his balled-up fist. She went backward over her bag and against the door. She saw stars for a moment. He had her by the hair and he was dragging her toward him again.

"Bitch!" he yelled.

He struck her again with his fist and then he started slapping her gently. Over and over again. She was numb. She had the feeling that he really was going to kill her.

"Bitch," he said a third time, and then he stopped hitting her.

His hand was still in her hair and he started caressing her. Then his fingers went down to caress the soft curve of her tit. She didn't care. She was too dazed to care. He started unbuttoning her blouse. She remembered that they were right in the middle of the street.

She looked around and saw that there were faces all around them. Grinning men licking lips and staring at her. She knew her face was puffed and bruised from his fist but it wasn't her face they were looking at.

Dirk got her blouse unbuttoned and she felt him reaching behind her back to unsnap her bra. Again she struggled to be free but he stifled slapping her and she stopped. She remained passive as he unhooked her bra and drew it over her head.

"Fuck bitch," Dirk said savagely as his hands lifted her tits for the men outside to see. "You're a fuck bitch and I want the men to see how much you love it. I'm going to let you take it out and suck me dry."

"Not here," she protested. "Not with all of them watching."

"You'll do what I fucking tell you," he said.

Dirk was really enjoying himself. The look of fear and humiliation on her face was arousing the animal in him. God, she was a good-looking bitch with all that blond hair around her face, her soft lips parted just as they'd be parted when he made her suck his cock. He knew the men standing around the truck would be jealous and that turned him on even more. He knew their jealousy would quickly turn to laughter if he didn't make her do as he wanted.

He had the thought that he might be going too fast. Raping her in the hayloft, while she moaned in pleasure was one thing. But taking her on a city street was another. There were too many people around to witness. She might even be able to have him put in jail.

The thought was gone immediately because she knew he was past the point of being able to control himself. His prick was hard and throbbing, ready to feel her soft lips around it. He grabbed her by the hair and pushed her back against the far window. He put one hand around her throat.