Ron Taylor - Stepdaughter in bondage

The sun was so warm and pleasant, my body throbbing as the solar rays played across me, that I lost sail track of time. All of a sudden I turned over and there he was, standing in the doorway with a can of beer in his hand. And there was a huge lump in his pants, not far below his belt. I was fourteen then, and I knew exactly what that lump signified. I sat up fast, grabbing a towel, hiding myself behind it.

Tony grinned again – I knew that grin too well – and he pinched hard with his fingers, crushing the beer can between them. I felt a twinge in my belly. Those fingers had pinched hard on me. Only once, but I'd never forgotten how they felt. I could never forget that.

"Stay away from me," I said as he stepped down onto the grass. We were maybe eight feet apart. I drew my legs back defensively, looked at my fingernails, wondering if they were sharp enough to do him any damage.

"Hello, Rebecca," said a voice behind me. I turned, and it was Mrs. Swanson, from next door. She was leaning on the fence that divided our backyards, her fat pink face shining. You can't imagine the sigh of relief that I breathed then, the delight I felt to see her chubby features. She was just like a guardian angel. I stood up, wrapping myself in the towel, and I chatted across the fence for a few moments. During the conversation I heard the back door of the house slam and I could sense, without looking, that Tony had gone inside.

Tony bid off on a new job at the mines and for the next six or eight months he was on afternoon shift. Those were happy months. I could come home from school, knowing that I was alone in the house. I could do almost anything I wanted, provided I got it done before twelve or twelve-thirty. I guess I took advantage of it.

I learned to drink beer and wine. I learned to smoke grass like a pro. I even got fucked. Twice. Once because I wanted to see how it felt. I mean, I was the only virgin left in Reckardsville, so I let Bucky Rothman do it to me on the living room couch one Friday evening when we should have been studying algebra. It was his first time too, though I didn't know that till later.

It wasn't much. He came too fast, spraying me with his semen as he tried to get his rod out of me before it went off, and the only thing I kit was a sharp, stinging pain as his cock ripped through my cherry. The pain only lasted a few moments but it was very unpleasant and, wiping my belly with a tissue, I remember assuring myself that I would never go through anything as demeaning as this again, no matter if all the other kids were doing it. I could think of lots more pleasant ways to spend my time. It seemed so Goddamned silly. Spreading my legs while a boy worked his rod into my tight hole, gritting back the urge to scream in pain as he drove up me, feeling the jerk of his cock as it neared ejaculation while I just lay there numb and frustrated? I could do a lot better with my middle finger and a warm bathtub.

The second time I let myself be screwed, it seemed like a good idea. There was this boy named Norman, of all things, and from the time I met him he was all I could think about. So one night I invited him over to the house for a study date. We watched TV for a while and then started kissing and making out, and in short order he was really stiff in his pants and I was rubbing him with the flat of my hand, making him even stiffer, if that could be possible.

"Rebecca," he murmured into my mouth, "unzip me – feel me – oh, God, I don't believe this is happening! Is it really happening? Is it?"

"Mmmm-hmmmm," I purred, sliding his zipper down and reaching inside. I had felt a few cocks since my first sexual experience, but I'd never gotten serious with any of them. I fished him out of his tight shorts, pulled the hard throbbing rod into the lamplight. He seemed pretty well hung to me at the time, though I didn't know an awful lot about hung then. I slid my fist up and down his length, felt the tingle and throb of his pulse as it pumped fresh blood into his pecker and kept him rock-hard, and we kissed a little longer. Sometime during the kiss he started easing my head down, toward his cock.

I knew about cocksucking, though not from personal experience. I knew enough to be aware that it didn't really hurt you, though to have a boy squirt cum into your mouth was a pretty sickening things all my girlfriends agreed. Norman seemed determined that I should suck him now.

"Lick me," I heard him groan. "Just lick me a couple of times. Please?" And all the while he was pushing my head down.

What the hell? I figured. It wouldn't kill me. I thrust out my tongue and slid it across the warm, damp head of his penis.

Mmmmm, I thought. It's not bad. A kind of fresh, slightly salted meat taste to him. Most of the salt seemed to be concentrated on the very tip of Norman's rod, where it was deeply, boldly cleft and where a little trickle of wetness seemed to be oozing rhythmically from inside his cock. I tapped it again with my tongue, felt once more that curious little tingle as his flavors assaulted my taste buds. Could be worse, I thought, opening my mouth. I brought it down over him, lodging the tip of him inside my teeth. I closed my mouth and sucked, very hard.

"Owwwwwww! Yeahhhhh!"

That was Norman, getting excited. He still had me by the head and he was trying to stuff his entire cock into my mouth, lunging up from where he sat on the couch. Norman – five inches or so of lunging thrusting meat Rebecca – trying her best to suck a dick the way it was supposed to be sucked. I didn't know very much about it, but I don't believe Norman did either. And you know, I can't tell you what he looked like, because I don't remember. While, at the time, I thought I was head over heels in love with him.

Anyway, I ate him. Not deeply, because I was afraid to get more than the swollen tip of him into my mouth. God, it felt like I was gonna strangle just sucking that much of his dick! My mouth had never felt so full in all my life. But the taste – well, the taste grew more and more – should I say pleasant? – the more I sucked. I think he was squirting off a little cum into my mouth and I was too innocent to realize it. All I noticed was that the meat occasionally tasted as if it were moistened with a light coating of thick gravy.

Somehow we managed to get his cock out of my mouth and then it was just naturally time for me to get undressed. He helped, if you can call it helping. Mostly he fumbled around, and it was really pathetic when he got his fingers onto my bra and tried to undo the clasp. For one thing, he seemed to think I was wearing an old-fashioned bra, where the clasp is in the back.

"Here, dummy," I told him with a sigh, pulling one of his hands around to the flat space between my tits. That was a mistake. He put both hands on my boobs and he didn't seem to care if lie ever got my bra off. He squeezed me as if I were a banana at the fruit market and he were a careful topper testing for freshness. His fingers stuck to my tits as if they'd been glued on and, in the end, I had to undo the clasp myself.

"Let me kiss you," he whispered, kind of reverently, jiggling my titties in his nervous fingers. I nodded, leaned forward and brushed my boobs across his face, my hand dropping into his lap and grabbing the cock I'd had in my mouth.

He sucked at me, and I warmed noticeably as his lips contacted on my breasts. My nipples were getting hard and hot in his mouth and I felt crawly all over. My fist tightened on Norman's dick and I thought I could feel it getting bigger and bigger inside my hand.

"Hurry," I said. "I think I need it right now."

We got ourselves rearranged. I already knew the position, thanks to my session with Bucky Rothman on this very couch no more than four months ago. I lay flat on my back, one foot dangling onto the floor, the other thrown up over the back of the couch. It left me spread, patch of dark hair glistening between my thighs, my panties hanging down behind the couch, caught on the ankle of that foot.