Walter Collins - Make me come!

The day I was changed into a nympho started peacefully. After breakfast and chores I took a warm shower. Glowing from it and a brisk toweling I went to my aunt's room to model in front of the mirror. It was only the third week of my two-month stay and already, every inch of my slender body had darkened with the start of a golden, back-yard tan. My waist-length brown hair was starting to streak a little and I couldn't help giggling at the thought of ending the summer with sun-bleached hair on my cunt.

I was really happy and proud of myself.

It was really great. I had time to think, time to dream, time to plan and time to write long letters to my steady boy friend back in Los Angeles. I read the movie magazines and confession stories as they were brought to me with the groceries each week. I had even managed to read three of Rod McKuen's poetry books.

Right then, looking in the mirror and vainly examining my big, well-developed tits cunt-hair, I was about to start on what had become a daily ritual.

It had been easy to promise Gary, my boy friend, that I would be faithful. I had been here before and knew how isolated it was. There wouldn't be any temptation, so he was safe. I really missed flicking in the back seat of his mother's car. It was fun and I really enjoyed it. We never did anything kinky. He would just play with my tits until my cunt got all wet, then he'd climb on top and fuck me until we exploded.

We usually managed to make it two or three times a week and I was thrilled to feel and know that my orgasms improved each time. From the first time, when my brother and his wife introduced me to sex, until the day before I left for the farm, when Gary and I said good-bye, it had gotten better and better, and I loved it.

Now, without him there to help me I had taken up masturbation. The favorite dream I had while rubbing my cunt was of being raped. I was never hurt in my daydream. It was just that I liked to think I was forced. Then it wasn't my fault.

Standing in front of the mirror I stroked my flat tummy with my soft hand and slid my fingers into my cunt-hair. I scratched the delicate flesh under the hair lightly as I pictured a big, handsome guy crawling quietly through the open living-room window.

My middle finger found the top of my split and sent a shiver through it as the digit trailed down the crack to the tip of my clit. My imaginary attacker slipped up behind me. Wetting my lips with my tongue I used the fingers from either side of the busy one to spread my cuntlips and pull the flesh of my clit-hood tight.

The center finger found its mark. Dipping away for only a second to collect some of my cunt-juice at the entrance of my pussy, I brought it back and started to gasp in delight and picture myself being forced onto my aunt's bed.

I rubbed my free hand over my tits, lifting and kneading tern carefully as I felt the warmth and pressure shoot clear to their centers. In my fantasy he was unzipping his pants and pulling out the biggest cock I'd ever seen. It was beautiful. I dropped my tits and pushed two of my fingers into my aching, itching cunt as I imagined him spreading my legs and forcing his way inside.

I watched happily, if a little guiltily, as my face stiffened and strained back at me from the mirror. I saw the blush spread on my cheeks and across my chest as I neared the peak of my efforts.

It was never as good when I did it to myself as when Gary or someone else did it – but it was good. I just couldn't imagine life without orgasm – especially all those years in the future. Even now, ill was down in the dumps, if I was mad, if I was having trouble getting to sleep, if I wanted to relax, all I had to do was have an orgasm and everything changed. I had watched my mom. She didn't enjoy sex. I knew because I had heard her fighting with Dad about it. She was always so unhappy. On the other hand I'd spied on our neighbor a couple of times when she forgot to draw the shades. She and her husband really had a ball and I could see how happy she always was. I looked at the difference between the two women and knew, clear to my very soul, that I had to enjoy it too – if I was to have a reason to live in this crummy world.

I don't think I was a nympho – not then. I enjoyed too many other things too. I wasn't consumed by a constant desire for orgasm. But I knew I could have one any time I needed it. All I had to do was slip away by myself, even to a restroom if I was desperate, finger my cunt for a couple of minutes and I was fine again.

Now, I watched as I bit my lip from the heat of my imaginary assault, and I floated. Big waves of relief, peace and satisfaction carried me high and set me gently back down. Sighing happily I wiped my wet cunt and fingers on the panties I'd set out, and got dressed. It was such a lovely afternoon I simply couldn't stay in the house. I had to get outside and explore the countryside.

I wandered happily down the old road, kicking pebbles, watching the bird tracks and picking berries, completely unaware that my fantasy – the worst part of it – was about to become reality. I was almost two miles from my aunt's tiny farm when I started into an open field to pick some berries. Suddenly the still air war filled with the roar of motorcycle engines. I didn't pay any attention until they spotted me.

I didn't even have time to run before they rode me down. Cycles came tearing across the field at me from both sides. The first one buzzed by, catching my blouse and tearing it off as I was dragged for a few feet before it tore free. I scrambled to my feet and tried to run when a hand caught a cup of my bra and tore it off.

The force of the grab spun me around and my waistband was snagged before I could fall. I found myself being dragged and hurtled, nude from the waist up, through the air. I landed hard. Two cycles came up, one on each side, caught the cuffs of my pants, and I was dragged bouncing across the ground as the rest of my clothes were torn off.

The gang wheeled into a circle around me, trapping me. The boys climbed off and a fist grazed my jaw. Someone drove a boot into my ribs and it was quickly beaten into submission. The leader and his right-hand man grabbed me, unzipped their pants and forced me to stand between them.

My life was changed. I was about to go on a trip to hell and back. A trip that would almost leave me crazy, would make me try to commit suicide, and do anything for a cock before it ended.

The first drooling slab of male meat drove into my fearful little cunt and I cried out in pain. The boy behind me laughed and held me so I was dangling in the air, kept from falling by the cock in my cunt and the brutal grip on my tits from behind.

Hands from either side pried my ass-cheeks apart and other hands held me as the boy behind let loose long enough to force the head of his cock against the virgin pucker of my asshole. I screamed at the top of my lungs as he straightened his leg and drove his hips up. The cock bent almost double before my asshole gave and he ripped past the tight ring.

The searing pain in my ass was so bad I nearly passed out. My pussy had had a big cock before and could take it. My asshole couldn't. I could feel every inch of the dry cock as it sank in. The powerful, knotty veins felt like rugged steel cables wrapped carelessly around a telephone pole as he drove in. The head of his cock had to have been a post-hole digger.

The sensitive, tender tissues of my well-developed tits cried out as the boy's groping hands grabbed them again. I could feel every muscle and tissue bruise as he squeezed and pulled. My nipples looked weird as the tortured pillows under them were assaulted.

The boy in front grabbed my face roughly and jerked my mouth to his. The sandpaper roughness of his unshaven face cruelly rubbed my smooth cheeks raw as his brutal lips crushed mine. His hands grabbed my chin and squeezed my lower jaw down so he could ram his tongue past my trembling lips.