Norma Egan - Daddy_s slut girl

Pop, when he spoke of his former wife, admitted she was beautiful and charming. But it occurred to Cindy that he remembered her from long ago. Linda would be in her late thirties now, perhaps no longer capable of getting by on her looks. Cindy felt suddenly alarmed and protective. If her mother was poor and in trouble, she'd help her, get a job. She'd show Linda what a good daughter she could be…

"Well, hello, Little Red Riding Hood. I'm the big bad wolf."

Cindy jumped and gasped. The man had appeared suddenly from a dark alley, scaring the slit out of her. She stumbled backward a few paces and gawked at him.

He was black and enormous.

He stood about six feet five and had shoulders like an ox. His skin was black as coal, shiny in the late-evening light, and his nose was broad and flat with flaring nostrils. He had giant hands and feet, massively muscled legs and arms that threatened to burst from his tight-fitting mod black suit. His hair was thinning a little, and he wore a beret, cocked at a precarious angle, to cover his bald spot. Cindy realized he wasn't bad-looking, but to her he was terrifying.

"What you doin' down here, little girl?" he said in a resonant powerful voice. "This ain't no place for a honky."

Cindy stared up at him, her face strained with fright. She licked her lips. "Maybe I've got the wrong place," she said. "I'm looking for my mother."

He chuckled softly. "Ain't likely no white girl's mother lives around here, honey. And you sure ain't got no nigger blood. What's the address you lookin' for? Maybe I kin help you find it. I know this town real well."

He didn't seem so menacing now, just contemptuous and amused. Cindy decided to trust him, at least to get his advice. She told him her mother's name and address. The black giant slowly cocked his right eyebrow but otherwise showed no reaction. He studied the small blonde teenager a moment before speaking.

"Well, that ain't so far from here after all," he said. "I'll hep you find it. Better I walk with you – you could get in bad trouble in this neighborhood."

As if to illustrate his remark, a gang of young black hoodlums suddenly came careening down the street, whooping and leaping and grabbing for the low-hung streetlights. They didn't see the big black man, who was still standing in the shadows of the alley, but they saw Cindy.

"Whooo boy!" one of them shouted. "I want that white meat!"

"Hey, baby. Hey, baby," another chanted, moving towards the terrified girl.

"How 'bout some honky pussy, baby?" said another, approaching her with a leer.

Cindy thought she was going to wet her pants, she was so terrified. Just as the gang got up to her, though, the enormous black man stepped out of the alley and faced them. He made no menacing gestures, just stood there with his hands on his hips and looked calmly at the youths.

"This here's mine," he said simply.

"Yassuh," said one of the guys. "Pardon."

The whole gang took off like a shot. Cindy looked up gratefully at her protector, but he only turned and spat into the gutter. "You got no business down here," he said angrily. "If I hadna been here, you woulda got raped – an' worse."

"I'm sorry," Cindy said meekly. "I've never been to Los Angeles before…"

"Los Angeles, shit!" said the man. "This is niggertown, baby, and no honky with any sense comes down here. You better git back where you come from."

"Oh, no?" Cindy cried. "I came all the way from New York, hitchhiking, just to find my mother. I have to find her. Please, please help me."

He gave a deep sigh of irritation. "Oh, all right. Come on."

He started down the darkening street with giant strides, and Cindy had to trot briskly to keep up with him. She understood now the awful danger of being a lone white girl in the ghetto, and this dampened her excitement considerably. Hang on, she told herself nervously, you'll see Linda very soon…

They walked a long way till finally the man turned in at one of the ramshackle tenements and Cindy followed him up three flights of creaking stairs. They went into a dark apartment, and when he flicked on the dim yellow overhead light, Cindy saw a garishly furnished room with overstuffed furniture and big floor cushions and highly polished tables and thick carpet. Someone had spent a lot of money furnishing this firetrap. Why?

"Does my mother live here?" she said.

"Naw, we ain't there yet," the man said, taking off his jacket. He was wearing a salmon-pink shirt, and his powerful shoulders and arms bulged beneath it. "This is my place. I'll get you to your mother pretty soon, but I gotta rest and have a drink first."

Cindy was bitterly disappointed, but she was afraid to protest. He was the only protector she had in this dangerous place, and she had to keep on his good side, no matter what. She waited, standing by the door, while the man poured himself a stiff drink of Scotch and sat down on one of the plushly upholstered sofas. He took a long swallow of his drink, smacked his ups, then looked intently at Cindy.

"You a virgin?" he asked in a businesslike tone.

Cindy blushed all the way down to her toes. "I-I don't think that's any of your business," she said primly.

He scowled. "You wanta get to see your mother?" he said menacingly. Cindy paled and nodded. "Well, all right," he went on. "If that's what you want, you gonna answer my questions – an' no lies. Now you tell me if you're a virgin."

Blushing miserably, Cindy shook her head. "N-No, I'm not."

"How old you?"

"How many men you had?"

Cindy had to stop and count. She decided she couldn't include Calvin Trout, since he hadn't actually fucked her. "Thirteen," she said.

The big black gave a low whistle. "Little girl, you been busy," he said. "You got any diseases?"

Cindy blushed hotly. She knew what he meant. "Certainly not!" she said indignantly.

He laughed harshly. "Sure, you white chicks never do. You think just black girls get 'em." He took another pull on his drink, and then said in his flat business like tone, "Start taking off your clothes. Do it slow."

Cindy just stood there and gawked at him, not believing what she'd heard. It seemed too cruel.

After all her struggles, after getting practically to Linda's doorstep, was she to be raped again?

"Hurry it up," he snarled. "If you wanta get out of this neighborhood alive, you need me – so you better do what I say."

Cindy began to sob, hut she kept it quiet. She knew she must not anger him. She bent and untied her shoes and kicked them off. Then she slowly drew her shirt off over her head, tousling her long shining blonde hair. She no longer had a bra, and her full, round creamy tits quivered before the man's staring liquid brown eyes. He focused on the lovely strawberry-pink nipples and nodded slowly.

"Good," he said. "Real good."

Cindy blushed hotly but didn't dare pause in her disrobing. With trembling hands she unsnapped the front of her jeans and slowly drew down the zipper. She had no panties any more, either, and the black man was treated to the slow revelation of her fluffy golden beaver. He licked his lips, his tongue huge and pink against the black of his face.

Cindy let her jeans slither slowly down to her ankles, revealing her perfectly shaped silky-skinned legs, and then she stepped out of the garment, blushing and trembling. Her mind was working fast. If she let him fuck her, would he still take her to Linda – or would he kill her to hide the evidence of his rape?

"Come here," he said, lounging on the sofa. "Walk over to me."

Cindy walked, thinking her rubbery knees would give way under her. She made it within a few feet of him, however, and then he signaled her to stop. He focused blatantly on her blonde triangular muff.

"That for real?" he said. "The color, I mean."