John Kellerman - Raped young runaway

"I'd better get back before some of the guys find out I've been fooling around with you in the back of this truck." He grinned. "They might not understand."

Bobbie was alone, sitting in the middle of the dirty blanket, staring down at the swollen lips of her cunt and the ring of blood around her fresh wound.

"Ohhh," she whispered watching a puddle of cream collect in her palm, "he went so deep. I didn't think I had room inside me for all of it."

Bobbie put her hand to her nose and sniffed the hot sap. It reminded her of the cop whose cock she'd sucked – the cop with the kind eyes.

All the next week, Bobbie tried to keep a low profile. She didn't hang around the guys much. When they went to eat at the burger place across the street, she chose the greasy spoon a block away.

She kept busy, too, never hanging around the Coke machine when the other boys were taking a break.

They began to look at her a little differently, though she didn't think Mike had said anything. What had happened was that she was having a hard time maintaining her pose as a boy. Though her tomboyish ways had helped her do this in the past, she didn't feel like a tomboy any more – not after that hot, stiff cock had penetrated her body. She fell so incredibly feminine now. She had a hard time walking with a swagger or laughing at dirty jokes. What the boys thought was funny was incredibly erotic to her.

Often she caught herself thinking of how it had felt to be crushed down under Mike's body. She didn't ever want to do it again, but she thought about it. Then on a Thursday afternoon, he caught her alone in the small men's room in back of the boss' office.

Bobbie always used the place when no one else was around, and she always used the stall, of course. But Mike knew her secret, and he had followed her in and forced the stall door open.

"Aren't you in the wrong place?"

"Mike, get out of here! You promised you wouldn't tell." Bobbie jerked her jeans up.

"I've kept my promise. And like I said, it's time for me to collect again." He held her thin wrists up, pinning them to the side of the stall as he worked her jeans down.

Bobbie wriggled and fought, but the boy was far too strong. He got his hand down her panties and curled a finger into her slippery cunt. Bobbie shuddered and her resistance weakened. When he touched her pussy, she just couldn't think straight. Her slim hips lurched as the boy worked his finger deeper, sliding it back and forth along her folds. Her clit, shiny with cuntjuice, rose from behind its hood. Mike caressed it too roughly, but the surges of pleasure made Bobbie's head flop to one side.

"Somebody might have seen us come in here. Won't they… won't they think… uhhhhh!"

"You'd better start hanging around with the guys again," Mike warned her, his mouth hot on her neck. "They're getting the idea that you're a queer after you ran off from that chick everybody was fucking."

"I'm not queer, for God's sake!" she gasped. "I'm a girl."

"And what a girl! I don't think I ever fucked anybody so tight in my life."

"You hurt me. I'm still sore."

"The second time's always better." He skinned her panties, down to her knees.

"Nooooo!"

She struggled against him, but he was pressing her ass against the stall, dry-fucking her with the bulge in his Levi's. The up-and-down rub against her naked cunt mound sent hot shivers of lust through her. But it wasn't a lust for Mike. If she wasn't so afraid of him, she would have spit in his face.

Frantic to bold him off, she pushed a hand down to the lump in his pants. He groaned as she dug his fly open and found his hard cock in his shorts. Her fingers wrapped around it, and she yanked it free.

Then she began to massage his prick, doing what seemed to excite him the most.

"God damn!"

"You like that?"

"Yeah, but let me put it in… ohhh!"

Mike staggered back against the other side of the stalk Bobbie was amazed that she had so much control aver him, simply by manipulating the skin of his cockshaft. And he seemed to get hotter when she jerked her fingers quickly towards the tip, then back down mote slowly. She repeated this, watching the boy's face change. His eyes were half lidded and his chest rose and fell as she continued to jerk him off. Against her soft palm, his prick throbbed and grew fatter and firmer.

"Uhhhh, God… come on, Bobbie, let me fuck you."

"Isn't this fun?" she said, hoping to keep him interested. She slipped her other hand inside his fly and cupped his heavy hanging balls.

This seemed to make Mike go half-crazy. He wallowed his hips around, leaning back weakly against the side of the stall. His cock pounded against her fingers as she worked the skin forward and back, forward and back.

This time, Bobbie was ready. She saw the droplet of milky fluid appear at the tip of his cockhead.

Before it could drip down in a sticky string, a spurting stream erupted. If she hadn't moved, it would have hit her belly. But it splattered against the stall, instead, and she kept milking him with her fingers, drawing his thick cum out in glops. It splattered on the concrete floor as Mike moaned and panted, his mouth slack under his blond mustache.

Before the stuff stopped dribbling out, Bobbie jerked her panties and jeans up, shoved the door open and ran from the stall. She could hear Mike cursing as she left the men's room. Looking around, she was thankful that no one seemed to be aware of what had just taken place. She cut around back and headed down the line of near-new cars to the one she'd been washing. Dan, the owner, saw her and waved her over. He grinned around his cigar, his diamond ring flashing in the sun.

"Come on into the office, kid. I want to talk to you."

Bobbie was scared stiff that he'd found out about her secret somehow. She was actually trembling when Dan shut the door behind her and motioned her to a chair. But then he opened a drawer and put a bottle of whiskey on his desk. He poured her half a water glass full and shoved it across the desk to her.

"There you go, Bob. Have a drink on me."

As manfully as she could, Bobbie took a swallow. But the stuff stung her throat and she had to cough. Dan grinned at her, quaffing his own glassful without a blink.

"I've noticed you're different from the rest of the guys," he drawled. "You don't hang around with them much, and you don't dress like they do." He laughed good-naturedly. "You must buy all your things two sizes too big."

"I just like loose clothes," Bobbie blurted, trying the whiskey again.

"Well, you do good work, and that's all I care about. These tight-pants prima donnas that hang around the Coke machine think they've put in a good day if they wash two cars and smile at me every time I walk by."

He held the whiskey bottle out, but Bobbie shook her head. He refilled his own glass.

"I know you probably take a lot of ribbing. I saw Mike pinch you on the ass the other day. They probably think you're a sissy or something. Well, don't pay any mind to those bastards. You're fine in my book, son."

"Yes, sir."

Dan lit a cigar and leaned his elbows on the desk, "You don't even shave, yet, do you?"

"The men in my family never had much beard." Bobbie blushed and rubbed a nervous hand across her chin. She felt sweat break out all over her body. Was her secret about to be revealed?

But Dan just nodded and leaned back in his big chair. "Tell you what, Bob. You can't afford to rent a place to stay on what I'm paying, and you don't have a family like most of these dummies I employ. So why don't you stay at my place? I've got a garage apartment with its own bathroom, and you could help out around the place when my wife needs something done. We could call that the rent."