Val Marrick - Whipped And Raped

The driver's eyes followed her in the mirror as she walked despondently to the back of the bus. A lovely little piece, he thought. She was the only passenger, going downtown.

As he drove, the driver fantasized about driving with the sexy little teenager to the outskirts of town and fucking her up and down the aisles. He could just feel those slim adolescent legs wrapped around his waist, as she pumped her wanton, oily snatch up and down on his cock and cried out with passion.

But hell, she wouldn't ever want to make it with an old crock like him. He had a daughter himself who was nearly her age. Heaven knew she had eyes only for the hard young studs who flocked around her in high school. With a sigh,-he turned his mind back to driving. He had a hard-on. In another hour he'd be home. In bed with Mabel. The thought of his wife made his cock droop. Mabel was flabby and whiny and had hair like a Brillo pad. She always had a headache, anyway. Close to the center of town, in a rundown neighborhood much poorer than where she'd gotten on, the little blonde piece of ass got off.

The bus driver watched with regret and some puzzlement as she disappeared into the night with her rounded rump flouncing invitingly under the thin cloth of her yellow miniskirt. What was a girl like that doing down here, this time of night? A thought crossed his mind.

Maybe the girl was a teen-aged hooker coming back from a trick in the fancy part of town. He'd heard of ones like that. Maybe he should have asked her, offered her a bit of money. Maybe he could have had some of that fine firm ass.

Maybe even at his age he could have felt those impossibly hot teenybopper pussy juices searing his stiff prick.

Well, fuck it, he thought. No use crying over unspilled come. And Mabel wasn't going to be any use tonight. As he headed the bus back to the barn he unzipped his fly and pulled out his dick. It was hard again, harder than it had been in years. Blissfully he began to jack it off. A man could dream at least, thank God.

Sally stood on the corner in the glow of a streetlight. Down here in the rougher part of the city she was even more afraid of the nighttime streets. Her courage was at a low point. She almost ran home again in fear. But that would mean facing her father again. That was too much for her.

Afterwards Sally never knew how she found the apartment complex. She knew Ricky lived in Mountain View Court. After what seemed to be most of the night, but was only about fifteen minutes, she found the sign.

Mountain View Court was a two-story complex done up with false adobe exteriors.

Ricky's number was 115-B. It took Sally another eternity to find it.

Sally reached to knock at door 115-B. Then she hesitated. Should she be doing this? Ricky wouldn't have kept her away without good reason. But Sally Canavan didn't have anyplace else to go. So she rapped on the door, quietly, trying not to waken the whole complex.

It wasn't long before Sally heard the lock click. The door opened and light poured out. There was Ricky, her Ricky. He was still dressed.

"Oh, Ricky," Sally sobbed. She fell forward into his arms.

Ricky Cruz stooped to support the sudden dead weight as the young blonde's body fell against his. Her cheek pressed against his chest, bare where his unbuttoned shirt had fallen open. Her tears were cold and wet on his skin.

"It's all right, honey," he murmured. He brought her inside and steered her to the couch. "Hey now, baby, it's all right."

"I'm sorry," Sally cried. "I had to come. I… I just couldn't stay home any more. Your sister-?"

"My sister's out," he said. "You can stay. But what's happened?"

Sally tried to tell him, but couldn't for the team. It took a good ten minutes of soothing and gentle urging before she'd calmed down enough to choke out her story. It came in bits and pieces, between huge ragged sobs that shook Sally's entire body.

"Your own father," Ricky said in amazement, when she had finished. "Your father did this to you. The bastard."

"He made me," wept Sally. "He made me enjoy it! Once he began I wanted him to flick me. Oh Ricky, does this mean you won't want me? Won't want to fuck me anymore?"

Ricky's cock gave a big throb of hunger. In spite of his concern for Sally and anger at her father, the girl's tale had been turning him on. He couldn't lose the mental image of tall Robert Canavan hunching over his daughter, fucking his big long prick into her over and over as she groaned and rolled beneath him in incestuous passion.

He wanted a piece of that action too!

His hand sought Sally's tit. "You know I do, baby," he told the crying girl.

"Nothing could ever keep me from wanting you."

Sally melted against him. Their arms went around each other. Sally's pointed boobs were squashed against Ricky's bare chest. Her nipples started to harden with rekindled desire. "I want you now, Ricky," she Said desperately. "Fuck me, take me; make it all right again. Oh please!"

One brown hand slid thrillingly down her back to cup the springy globes of her ass. "Anything you say," Ricky said.

Pleasure welled from the twin points of Sally's tits as she began to churn her shoulders to smash her jugs against his powerful chest. Hotter and harder the nipples grew, until they threatened to burn and bore out of her bra and blouse.

Ricky felt their needy heat. He almost tore the blouse off in his haste to get it undone. Then with a quick twist of his fingers he unsnapped the catch of her bra.

Sally pulled back long enough to allow Ricky to skin blouse and bra off her in one rapid motion. The blooming treasures of her fits bounced into view. The rigid nipples stared at him like two brown-red eyes.

Ricky lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth. He bit down on it gently. Sally shivered with delight. She wrapped both arms around his head as he sucked as much of her sweet warm flesh into his mouth as he could. She arched her back to feed him still more of her boob.

Furiously Ricky tongued and chewed and sucked the rubbery jug. The girl-taste was sweet. Sally nuzzled his head and murmured wordlessly into his dark hair as her excitement grew.

Still gnawing on the lit, Ricky put a hand on Sally's thigh. Eagerly the girl parted her legs. As he slid the hand up the satiny skin Ricky felt the crisp kiss of curly pubic hair on his hand. In surprise he realized that Sally's snatch was naked under her skirt. Then he remembered how her father had torn off her panties. She had run out of the house without putting on another pair The thought of Sally's violation was an erotic stimulant to Ricky. Warm juices flowed over his hand as he touched her pussy. The cunt-lips, so recently spread and widened by her father's cock, parted easily to take in his forefinger.

Sally caught her breath. The double assault on her lit and her twat was driving her out of her mind.

"I'm getting close, Ricky," she whispered urgently. "I'm going to come!"

Ricky's answer was to shove his hand deep into the furry wet hole of her cunt.

He screwed his hand around and around inside Sally's body. He raked the sensitive skin of her fit with his teeth. His tongue kept up its maddening attack.

A wave of orgasm washed over Sally. Her cunt muscles lightened around Ricky's probing fingers. Pussy oils gushed over Ricky's hand. "Aaaaaahhhhhh," she cried. "I'm coming!"

Ricky let Sally ride out the throes of her climax. He could feel the tension and misery flow out of her. When the wild frenzy of her hips subsided she leaned into him and he hugged her to him. Then he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, with her skirt riding up to expose her luscious, sopping pussy.

He set her down gently on his bed. It was. covered with a wine-colored Indian print bedspread. "Let's get naked, honey," he urged. "Then I'll fuck you for real!"