Joan Kelly: Rape me!

"Maybe I would like a whole one. I feel a little funny in the stomach."

"Scared?"

"No. Just…" I shrugged. The beer was cold and sweaty, and I tipped it up and swallowed. It tasted surprisingly good. Phil put his arm around me and leaned us both back in the dusty old sofa. He put the small, white thing in his mouth – a hand-rolled cigarette and not a very good one it seemed. The beer had made me feel a little better. At least I wasn't worrying about the MacInnes boys any more. I sipped more. Phil lit his cigarette. It smelled funny, like the inside of Farley's car. He offered it to me.

"No thanks, I don't smoke." He gave me a funny smile, blew out a held lungful of smoke.

"No, I guess you don't." He twisted the cap on a fresh beer and guzzled hall of it down before stopping. I sat there watching his Adam's apple pump, wondering how anybody could drop out of high school, just like that. He dragged on the cigarette again, then put it out carefully and dropped it into his shirt pocket. The smell was so strange. Heavy, pungent. When he put his hand on my bare knee I almost came unglued.

"Phil!"

"You got fine legs, too, I bet." His hand was like iron. I couldn't budge it. He leaned close, and I felt his lips hot against my neck. The sensation was tingly strange, but scary, too. I squirmed, tried to free myself from his grasp. He kissed me again, just under the chin. My heart pounded and tiny shoots of excitement radiated out from the kiss, tickling over the surface of my skin like a light breeze. Phil's right hand clutched my thigh higher and he fanned his fingers, digging into my flesh.

"Nooooo!" I gasped, twisting in his arms. My head was back and he took advantage of the moment to kiss me again on the neck. It felt more exciting than before but I couldn't let myself admit it, couldn't let him think I liked what he was doing.

"You smell good…" He found my earlobe and sucked it between his teeth. I groaned, tried to disguise it as pain. "I'm not biting you that hard, baby."

"Can't we just talk, Phil? Please?"

He pushed up my jersey and kissed me wetly on the belly. I twisted my fingers in his hair and tried to pull his face away but he only laughed and deepened the kiss until my navel was speared by his sharp tongue. I choked off the strange sound which came from deep in my throat. Phil laughed and searched the bottom of my navel again.

"God, what a body," he hissed. "You know I kinda like girls that fight me a little."

I thought I was fighting him a lot, tried to fight harder. Phil moved his other hand higher on my thigh. My skirt was bunched around my hips now, and I was flushed with color, knowing that he could see my panties. The hand pressed suddenly against the silk that covered my lower stomach. He lowered his face.

"Damn it, Phil, no!"

"Yeah," he answered, laughing again.

Oh, God, he couldn't be doing that! Not… but he was! His lips brushed over the swollen bulge of my cuntlips under the sheer material and kissed the inside of one thigh. I fought with all my might to close my legs, but Phil had wedged his body between my knees, pushed me down on the sofa. He was pulling my hair now, holding me down with it, his hand under my back. I shut my mind against the kisses, the rough sensation of his lips and the softer, slicker heat of his tongue as it dug circles in the white flesh. But as he licked higher, I couldn't keep the sensations from leaking through to my consciousness. He wet the ridge where a large tendon snaked up into my groin, dangerously close to the lace edge of one leg of my panties. I squirmed my ass against the old sofa, but that only made his licking tongue tickle me more. I gasped for air, tired… so tired of fighting someone I couldn't match. Phil was strong, lots stronger than he looked.

"You're hurting me…"

"What a fine little ass…" He rubbed it with his free hand, dug at the skimpy panty-silk that hid my butt from sight. His lips opened and he kissed my thigh again, then kissed the bulge of damp satin over my pubes. Yes, my crotch was wet, wet from all the messing around he'd been doing. I didn't want to be, but I couldn't stop my body from working, like the way it had worked that very morning when I was in bed with that magazine.

"Don't do that… please, Phil, don't!" But he pressed his mouth against my crotch again. I could feel the heat of his breath, then something else. Wet and warm… wetting my wet panties. He was licking at the skimpy band of nylon that stretched over my cunt. He was kissing it. I didn't think I could stand it any longer!

"I'm crazy about chicks with a nice smell to them." His tongue pushed the nylon between my pussylips, pushed it deeper.

"Uuuuhhh!" I wiggled upwards on the sofa, but Phil clenched my hair and held me from escaping. I could hit him, hit him in the face with my fists. But I was too afraid. Afraid of that look to his eyes when I'd first met him. I had no idea of his background, where he was from, what he might do to a girl who really hurt him.

"You like that, don't you?" He sucked at the puffy lips of my cunt. They were plastered wetly against the silk. It was almost like being stripped. A rush of excitement made me tremble. The licking, the rubbing was getting to me. I recognized the feeling inside my chest like birds were flapping their wings… the same feeling I'd had while finger-fucking myself. And now a sense of helplessness only seemed to heighten the dazzling sensations. The flick of something metallic made me jump. I felt cold steel against my thigh.

"Don't move now or I'm liable to hurt you."

"What…?" The cold steel slipped under the crotchband of my panties. A knife! I could feel it warming as my soaked cunt touched it. There was a keen slitting sound and my panties felt looser… I writhed my hips, not believing until the flap of sheer material fell away from my soppy petals. "You… didn't cut my…"

Phil's mouth was pressed against my cunt. I felt his tongue gouge deep into the long gash, licking around the steamy folds. I wiggled wildly, hit the side of his face with my fist.

"Hold on with that shit!" Phil slapped me hard, not too hard, across the face. I was too shocked to cry, held my face with both hands until the sting wasn't quite so sharp. I thought of screaming, but the thought lasted only a second. Phil's tongue was licking at the hooded nubbin of my clit, lapping it, sucking it until I squealed with the acute tickle. My panty crotch dangled against my thigh, severed by Phil's knife and now I knew that what was left of my underwear had slipped up around my waist. He stroked my belly with one hand and worked the fingers of the other between the cheeks of my ass. I cried, a short, choked off a cry and tried hard to get my thighs closed. I only hugged Phil's body with them and he stroked my clitoris with his tongue like he might try to eat it.

Now the writhing struggle to get away turned into something even wilder, but different, too. Different because I wasn't sure why I was moving so wildly… except maybe that when I moved like that, Phil's tongue made me babble with pleasure. Yes, pleasure! I couldn't help myself. It felt good! My fingers lay limp against his matted, long hair, then curled into it. I even started petting him as he turned and bobbed. My thighs loosened, parted slightly. When Phil forced them even wider, I didn't resist. My cunt was peeled open just like that woman in the picture. I ground it up and down against his chin and tongue and teeth, moaning with want. But what did I want? I wanted more of Phil's tongue in my aching pussy… Oh, God, it felt lovely! He was running the point of his tongue up and down the length of my mushy gash. Once he almost touched my asshole, and I jerked on the sofa and pulled him away with my hands. I was not just petting him now as he licked my cunt, but guiding his movements, concentrating them where I wanted more sucking and making him go faster sometimes when I knew I couldn't stand the teasing slowness of his touch against my clit.