Rebecca Butler - Freshman nymph

Ted breathed heavily as he climbed once more to his feet, and she watched curiously as his cock began to wilt before her very eyes. It was covered in the cream it had spilt, and he wiped it dry on his shorts before putting on his trousers. The undershorts were so wet from the excess juice he wiped on them that he tossed them into some weeds with a grimace. Then, clad in his pants, he dropped to his knee and shook a finger at Becky.

His hand swooped down to wipe off some of the cream and girl juice that drenched her genitals.

"Look at that," he sneered. "You rotten bitch!" He thrust his hand into her face. "All that time you put me off and you weren't even cherry. Who copped your maidenhead, anyway?"

She stared at him uncomprehending. "I don't understand."

"Who busted your cherry?" he yelled. "Who else have you been fucking?"

"Nobody," she whispered. "I never fucked anybody before." My God, she thought. Had she actually said the word "fuck"?

"You lying cunt!" he hissed, and she thought for a moment he was going to hit her again. "If you were a virgin, you'd have bled like a hog when I stuck you. Look here, Becky, I'm not as fucking dumb as you seem to think I am."

She looked at him with eyes that suddenly understood. "My hymen broke when I was eleven," she replied softly. "I was climbing a fence on my grandfather's farm and all of a sudden my crotch was bleeding. My mother made the doctor write out a certificate for me stating what had happened. I think it's still at the house somewhere."

"Are you telling me that you never fucked anybody else?" he asked, wide-eyed now, his body close to hers lest he miss a word of her anxiously awaited reply.

"That's what I told you," she said absently.

"Oh, God," Ted whispered, throwing his arms round the girl. "Oh, God, I'm sorry! Becky, I don't know what came over me. But don't you see-I love you so much I couldn't let you go without fighting for you. Please-we'll find the ring, and you'll wear it when you go off to school tomorrow, and I'll come up and visit whenever I can, and we'll get married-anytime you want. Okay?" He smiled hopefully.

Becky slid from his grasp and got to her feet. Her blouse still rode above the tops of her breasts, and she reluctantly threw aside the bra Ted had ripped. It was just too torn-up to be any use. She picked up her panties and slipped into them before pulling down her yanked-up skirt. I'll just have to avoid Mom when I get home, she thought, because she'll wonder why I left wearing my brassiere and came home without it.

Ted arose and helped her smooth down wrinkles in her clothing. His hand stroked sorrowfully the still-red traces of his slaps. "Okay?" he asked again. "Is that how it's gonna be, honey? Jesus, Becky, I love you."

"I told you once before," she said forcefully. "When I go to State, I'm going as a free woman." He stared blankly. "And the fact that you have just raped me doesn't make me want you a bit more than I did when we were talking about this before. Now come on. We'll find that ring so you can return it and get your money back. Then I think you'd better take me home. I have some getting ready to do before tomorrow."

He dropped his hands in despair. Her voice cut him like a stiletto when she added, "And I don't think I even want to be friends with you from now on, Ted. You should be evened up for all those years you think you wasted on me, so when you take me home, I'd appreciate it if you just got the hell out of my life and stayed out of it-forever!"

In retrospect, strangely enough, Becky had to admit that the shame of being raped and dishonored was minor compared to the physical discomfort she felt all that night. Her cunt was sore and stiff and sent fresh aches throughout her body whenever she moved. After Ted drove her home (thank God her parents were out briefly, so she was able to get inside without being seen) she lay down on her bed, legs stretched stiff, her mind re-enacting the horrors she had just been through.

Sleep came uneasily to her that night, and she awoke in the morning weary, still conscious of the aching in her brutally stretched pussy. She dragged herself out of bed when her mother called, limped downstairs, invented a story about muscle aches due to sleeping in an awkward position for her father, invented a story about menstrual difficulty for her mother, and got herself ready for the trip to State University.

The pain faded as the morning wore on, and by the time the Ryan car passed the WELCOME sign on the outskirts of the university town Becky felt almost as good as new. She looked out the window, drinking in the quaint, academic charm of the town where she would be spending her wonderful college years, and she was pleased with what she saw.

Henderson was a sedate town, founded over 180 years before, and it had its share of lovely old houses whose residents felt no need to sacrifice to the demands of modernization. Not the least of these was a street of imposing buildings, most of them graced by stately shade trees, their lawns featuring lounging furniture. This was Greek Row, the site of the campus' various fraternity and sorority houses. Becky looked wistfully at them as her father steered the car along their street. She reflected on the romantic novels she had read, the stories of young college girls so desperately in love with handsome young college men-stories set against a backdrop of elegant life revolving round the Greek-letter organizations on campus, with cute pledge stunts, such as scrubbing steps of administration buildings with toothbrushes; the sisterhood of girls who found pleasure in one another's company; the stunningly romantic, Georgette Heyer aura of formal dances, with bands playing soft sweet music while tuxedoed boys and their corsaged partners moved and glided cross a polished floor. She knew even then that some day she too would be a part of one of those organizations, would have a whole houseful of sisters in whom she could confide, with whom she could be at ease, and-dared she even dream it?-she might even find true love in the form of a fraternity pin adorning her breast.

"Isn't the campus pretty?" observed Becky's mother. Indeed it was pretty, Becky thought The buildings were classic red brick, their walls ivy-covered, and a spacious green stretched across the middle part of the main campus. Today, Freshman Sunday, the day when the new underclassmen arrived and began to accustom themselves to college life, the place seemed packed. New students strolled everywhere, guidebooks in hand, acquainting themselves with this or that physical feature of the campus. Goodness, Becky thought, there are so many people here already! What would it look like when the upperclassmen arrived Monday? There would be wall-to-wall bodies everywhere, it seemed.

A friendly campus policeman guided the Ryans to a parking place near the dorm to which Becky had been assigned, and the three newcomers piled out of the car to begin the process of moving the young girl into her new dorm.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Mr. Ryan asked in a puzzled voice as his eyes focused upon a strapping young boy carrying luggage into the building Becky had identified as her new home.

"It has to be," his daughter declared, looking once more at her campus guidebook. "It says Bentley Hall, right beside the door, see, and this is the only Bentley Hall on campus."

Her father shook his head, watching still another young man pack his bags through the door, but he and Mrs. Ryan followed Becky into Bentley Hall.

And it was the correct Bentley Hall, they soon found out. Becky's room ticket was duly stamped by a prim, eyeglassed young lady at a card table in the lobby, and the blonde newcomer was guided through a set of swinging doors that would lead her to her new room.