Chapter 1
Robin smiled into the mirror, admiring her firm titties. She liked Saturdays. Liked this one too though something seemed to be missing. Stevie of course. He'd been gone a week now and though Mom and Dad had still not gotten over it, no one really talked about it. It was all so dumb. An argument over... what? Everyone had forgotten. But Steve had tossed all his things in his jeep and taken off. Robin knew where he was staying of course. A little apartment down by the river. Steve had made her promise not to tell the folks. He'd promised in return that she could come see him. This weekend!
Robin pulled a red T-shirt over her firm, small breasts and tucked it into her shorts. It was funny how a person got used to having someone around. Steve was a pretty neat brother. Weekends had always been a special time for her to fool around with her big brother. Steve had taught her a lot about auto-mechanics and she'd loved being able to do something that even a lot of boys couldn't cut. She could do a tune-up on the jeep easy now. Change a tire.
Steve was twenty-one, three years older than Robin. But Robin never felt like he pulled his age on her. He treated her as an equal. Though his friends generally didn't. Their looks embarrassed her sometimes. And she always made a defense by acting tomboyish.
She tied her tennies and went down the hall to the dining room. Her sister Marcia was brooding over a grapefruit, winding a strand of silky, brown hair around a forefinger. Marcia was just about to turn twenty-one. She'd been to college a few years and quit and come home. She'd tried a couple of secretarial jobs, quit and come home. She dated sometimes, but not much of late. Robin had never been too close to her, but lately they were practically like beings from two different planets.
"Hi, Marcia." Marcia was really a knockout. Even in the morning with a robe on she looked sexy.
"You look like you're going to a motorcycle race." Robin poured herself a glass of orange juice. She looked pleasantly across at her sis. She didn't mind Marcia's kidding.
"Nope." She finished the juice and found a half piece of toast. She felt Marcia's look.
"When are you going to start dating, Robin? I mean, don't you think it's about time you started to learn about men."
"I'm not so dumb about men." Robin chewed the toast.
"Yeah, I know," Marcia went on, "you fight with them and race them and all that kind of stuff."
"I don't fight with them."
"I bet you could though. I bet you hate males deep down inside. You're a person with deep mental problems, Robin. You're repressing your libido and sexual drives. . . " Marcia had come awake. She looked upset and ready for a long argument.
Robin swallowed the toast. She could see that Marcia was waiting for her to come back.
"You haven't had a whirlwind of dates yourself lately." The toast was stuck in her throat but Robin didn't let Marcia know. The orange juice helped.
"Oh, but I have one tonight. I've been saving everything for him." Marcia arched her eyebrows and quit fooling with her hair. Robin's sister was a regular beauty queen. She could see Marcia's large tits even through the terrycloth robe. "He drives a Continental. Not a new one, but one of those classics made in the forties." Marcia licked her lips. "White with leather seats."
Robin was impressed. She shrugged her shoulders. "Big deal. What is he, a tie salesman?" She could see that she'd gotten under Marcia's skin.
"Well, at least I won't be arm-wrestling him." Marcia stood up and the front of her robe parted slightly. Robin saw that she was naked underneath. Not even a pair of panties. Mom wouldn't approve.
"I don't arm-wrestle."
"Oh, I see. You just wrestle."
Robin felt her face redden. Marcia smiled, walked sexily around the table. She eyed Robin.
"You'd better start wearing a bra, little sis. You're going to find some male's paw wrapped around one of those little titties some afternoon when you're bending over a busted engine."
Robin pressed her lips together hard. She couldn't think of one goddamn thing to say back. Marcia opened the robe more, let her see a big tit. And despite her effort not to look, Robin found herself staring. Marcia's tit was big and round and high on her chest. The nipple was dark, the areola was dark too with little bumps around it. Down along the undercurve of the lovely breast was a tiny mole. Robin could only think of her own, small titties. They weren't much. She felt suddenly very inadequate standing there before her big sis.
"I gotta go."
"Oh, Robin?"
Robin turned.
"You have some grease under your thumbnail," Marcia cooed. "Just thought you might like to know. Or is that part of your appeal?"
"Fuck you," Robin said, her voice husky with anger. She went out the front door and down the walk. She could hear Marcia laughing in the house. She almost walked right past her mother, bent down behind her rose bushes.
"Oh Robin, you're up." Her mother brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and smiled. "Where are you going, darling?"
"Somewhere . . . to Betty's house I guess."
"You will be home for lunch, won't you? I worry about you not eating on weekends."
"I'll get something at Betty's.
"Do take care, Robin. Do you have any money?"
"Yeah." She was already turning down the walk. She wanted to get to Steve's before he cut out somewhere. Her mother was calling something after her.
"Ask around for Steve, would you please, Robin? Your father isn't taking this whole thing very well at all. At least Steve might call us. You don't know where he is, do you?"
"No Mom, I don't," Robin called back. She started to jog. At the end of the block her T-shirt was rubbing her nipples. They had begun to grow the past year and Robin wasn't used to the new sensation. They were a bother, always rubbing on something. She stopped jogging and wondered if maybe Marcia was right about the bra. Marcia never wore one though. She thought it was unliberated.
Robin saw the bus four blocks away, hissing down on a curb. She leaned against a light pole and let her palms slide up over her T-shirted tits. The nipples expanded immediately, pressed hotly against her palms. The sensation seemed to be wired to other parts of her body. Her ears glowed and between her legs .
"Oh Jesus Christ. . . " she breathed, taking her hands away.
She got on the bus. Steve's apartment was at the back of an old house on Trumble Street.
Robin saw the yellow jeep parked in the alley and knew she must be at the right place. She knocked lightly on the pane of the door. She stood on her tiptoes and tried to peek inside. It looked dark. She tapped again. Nothing. But the knob turned in her hand and she pushed it open and went in. Funny smell. Like leaves burning.
"Steve?"
"Huh?" There was a lump in the bed that moved a little. She saw his tousled blond hair.
"Hey, it's me. Robin!" She stepped across his clothes in the middle of the small room. "It smells funny in here. Like something's burning."
"How ya doing, Robin?" Steve's voice sounded blurred, heavy.
Robin looked down at his handsome face, the wideset, blue eyes. Funny but she'd never thought of Stevie being handsome before. Robin felt a sudden urge to kiss him, to beg him to come back home. Instead she pounced on his belly with her knees and grabbed at his wrists.
"You must think you're smart," she laughed, "just because you got a place all your own now."
"Hey come on . . . !" He twisted away but she had a knee on his belly still, pinning his shoulders. He grabbed her middle with both hands and tried to shove her over. Robin laughed and hung on, but Steve was waking up now. He was laughing tickling her hard.
"Remember when we used to wrestle until we always ended up breaking something?" she gasped, grabbing at his hand.
"Yeah. Dad would raise hell." Steve wiggled his fingers up under her arm and Robin screeched with agonizing joy. Stevie always could tickle the shit out of her, tickle her until she couldn't breathe, tickle her until she almost passed out.
Steve got a leg out from under the covers and caught one of her thighs in a scissor hold. Robin felt her shorts pull up between the lips of her cunt. It felt funny and her tits were being rubbed too hard again. Her breath came in panting little gasps. Then she realized that her brother had nothing on but a T-shirt.
Steve pushed her down by the wrists and pinned her easily. She snapped her teeth at him and grinned. They were both breathing hard. She arched her back and fought to bounce him off her, but couldn't. She felt happy, wrestling just like they'd done so many times growing up. But there was something different too. Something very, very strange about the room, about Steve. . . about the way his warm, naked thighs felt pressing between hers.
"What is that funny smell, Stevie?"
"You can't get up, can you?" he whispered, blue eyes daring her.
She started to struggle again, working her hips, trying to slide them to one side. She couldn't close her thighs because her brother had wedged his down between them. It felt so. . . unfamiliar. They'd wrestled before. But the rub of Steve's chest against her titties was making her breathe strangely.
Those damned tits, why were they getting in the way! And there was a tingly sensation in her cunt. Every time she tried to work her pelvis so she could slide out from under Steve's body, her shorts pulled tighter into her crack. And there was something else pushing there too. It was Steve. It was Steve's cock!
"Okay . . . uncle . . . !" She whimpered and bucked herself upward against him. "Steve, come on, let me up."
"Robin, I'm glad you came over." His lips moved wetly against her neck when he spoke. Robin had never felt anything in her life quite like that. She moved her head slightly, frowning at the sensation, wondering about it. Steve was moving his body in a strange kind of way. He was rubbing himself against her crotch. She could feel his cock. It was hard and seemed bigger than she'd remembered when she'd caught a glance of her brother in the tub or getting into swimming trunks.
"You're really glad I came over?" She knew she'd said it so he would talk again.
"Yeah ... I sure am."
"Mmmmm," Robin moaned. She was dizzy, breathless. She had no idea what was happening except that it felt strangely good. She could smell the sleepy musk of Steve's body, his slightly funky breath that had a tinge of smoke on it. But Steve didn't smoke. Not that she knew anyway.
She tried to catch her breath. It came in short puffs. Steve was moving his hips quickly now. She experienced guilt, a feeling of treading on forbidden paths.
They weren't wrestling any more. Steve was doing something entirely different. And as his hands tightened on her wrists, pinned them higher above her head, Robin felt panic.
"Let me up. . . Steve, can you hear me?"
"Robin... Ohhh God..." He was kissing her neck now. She tried to bring her chin down but couldn't. The touch of his lips... they were like nothing she'd dreamed of even.
"Steeeevie . . ."
She tried to work her hips to the side again, tried to twist them out from under Steve's plunging body. But he had her good now. He was raking his hard cock up against the soft, damp meat of her cunt. Even through a pair of silk panties and her shorts, she could feel his prick.
He let go of her wrists and wrapped his arms around her back. She felt his fingers sliding down against the small of her back where the T-shirt was hiked up. His fingers were warm.
"Noooo, Oh Jesus no, no, no!"
He was trying to kiss her on the mouth. Robin moved her head to the side. He kissed her ear instead. He was making grunting noises. His body had gone rigid and he had spread his knees against the undersides of her thighs.
Robin whimpered with fear and tried to push him away. Why was she so damned weak all of a sudden? She had no fight left, nothing left except the odd, burning sensations that were spreading like ripples on a pond, spreading out from the core of her pussy. Yes, she thought of it with that word now. . . soft and wet and shivery.
Pussy.
Cock.
Her brother's cock.
"Uhhh...Robin..."
Something hot and wet and sticky spurted against the inside of her thigh. Robin knew what was happening. Something she'd read about, heard whispers about at school. It was the way males fucked. The female was the receptacle for the male sperm. The tiny, tadpole-like things wiggled their way up the female's vagina and into the warmth of the womb.
Robin screamed. It wasn't a loud scream nor hysterical. It was only a shrill whistle of air past her vocal cords, hardly a scream at all.
Steve was on his knees, his face red and glazed with shock. He grabbed the end of the sheet and began to mop wildly at the slimy mess that dribbled in whitish strings from her tan thigh.
Robin was panting hard, propped up on her elbows watching him. Their eyes met for an instant, but didn't hold. Steve rubbed furiously at the cum.
"I'll get something from the bathroom, a damp wash rag'll get it off. . ." He bounced off the bed.
Robin glimpsed his cock before his back was turned and the size of it made her breath catch. She'd never guessed that Steve had anything like that heavy-looking appendage. His cock was absolutely huge! At least six inches long. . . no more than that. And thick and purple around the tip. That tip, that flared, swollen end had almost made her dizzy with shock. It didn't look human at all, didn't resemble the tiny, shriveled organ of her brother when they'd played in the tub together years before.
When Steve came back in the room, he kept his eyes averted. He knelt beside her. Robin grabbed the rag from his hand and sat up.
"Let me do it."
Steve found a pair of underwear and started pulling them on. She didn't want to look, but she did anyway. The cock between her brother's legs was sagging now but still big. There was a droplet of milky fluid hanging from the pisshole at the tip. Blond curls framed the shaft and the loosely hanging balls. Then white cotton skivyes hid it from her eyes. She bit her bottom lip and mopped gingerly at the crotch of her shorts.
"I'm sorry." He just wouldn't look at her.
Robin wished she could think of something to say. She didn't know how she felt. Except that her emotions were a swirling, trembly mess inside her.
Steve got into a pair of faded Levi's and put his sneakers on without socks.
"Look, I'm taking the jeep out for a run. Out to Three Hills. You want to come?"
Robin caught a braid rubbed it against the underside of her chin.
"Mom and Dad are really missing you." It wasn't at all what she was thinking about, but it would have to do for conversation.
"I'm not going back." Steve went into the kitchen and put some water on to boil.
Robin looked at him. The muscles in his back were bigger than she remembered. His T-shirt cut in tight below his arms and clung against the curving-lumps of his Chest. She could seethe blond hair below his navel peeking out from under the T-shirt. It made her think of other blond hair further down. She looked at her thighs. The cum was drying, making a thin, white skin. She dug at it with a blunt fingernail. She was shaking again. She was coming apart inside and her damned old brother was making coffee in the kitchen and acting like nothing had ever happened.
"Steve."
He came quickly across to her and, when she stood up, he hugged her.
"It was my fault, Robin. Come on, I'm gonna fix some coffee and then we'll get something to take with us to eat and drive the jeep out to Three Hills. You can drive when we get out of the city."
"Yeah... Okay..." Robin wiped tears with the back of her hand. Steve kissed her hair, patted her shoulder and went back into the tiny kitchenette.
She stood there in the middle of the room, feeling his cum drying on her legs, thinking that she'd never had a boy hug her as tightly as Steve had on the bed that morning. The day was different now. It would always be different from now on. Things would never be the same. Never, never, never.
Marcia sat fingering her gold watch. The one Sam Philbert had given her the week before. She thought of it as a reminder of payments yet to be made. A girl didn't get anything free nowadays. And though Sam could afford it, afford as easily as he had afforded the white Lincoln and his fancy clothes and the big house he'd showed her pictures of. . . thought he could afford to give away a gold watch, Marcia knew what was coming. She'd known when she'd let him put the soft, glittery band around her thin wrist and fasten it.
She stood up and walked nervously to the window. Her silky dress clung around her waist, crackling with static electricity. She smelled her soapy fresh body and the tinge of fragrant musk she'd applied at her wrists, behind her ears.
Sam was late. Marcia sat down on the couch and lit her second cigarette of the hour.
"Sam not here yet?" her mother said, swishing happily into the room.
"Hell be here soon.
"Oh, I'm sure he will." Her mother sat down across from her. "He's such a nice young man. I wish that your sister would start acting her age, start dating a few boys. She worries me to death."
"Robin's not the type."
"Oh, don't I know that." Her mother patted her greying hair. "It's funny how Robin and Steve were always close and you two girls fought so. I'm only hoping that your sister can talk some sense into that boy's head, get him to come back home."
Marcia stood up, sucked awkwardly at the cigarette. "Don't wait up for me tonight, Mom. Sam said something about keeping me out late."
"Oh?"
"A party. Special kind of party with some friends of his."
"Well, I trust you, Marcia. I always have I guess. Even when you wanted to drop out of college, I told your father that I thought you were smart enough to know what you wanted."
Marcia heard the car pulling up in the drive. She grabbed her sweater. "Night, Mom."
Her mother came over and took her gently by the shoulders.
"Marcia.. . I . . . well I never talked to you must about what girls should know... about men. I just hope that you use good sense... you know what I mean."
"Everything's all right, Mom." She leaned forward to kiss the wrinkled, slightly damp forehead. "Everything's just fine."
They were just sliding onto the freeway before Sam turned to look at her. He smiled.
Marcia smiled back. His dark hair hung in heavy curls over his forehead. He was older than he looked. Or maybe his age didn't matter, his physical age anyway. She could see him as a boy, the kind of kid that had dirty pictures and showed off the dirty rubber he carried to the others. The boy who talked incessantly about pussy and cunt. Talked about it in a twisted, vulgar way.
For an instant Marcia wondered why she had let Sam put that damned gold watch on her wrist the weekend before. Four dates they'd had. Four too many. She was in over her head now. She was trembling. She clasped her fingers together.
"You smell like something against the law, baby." Sam's eyes were shining like snake eyes. "I thought I'd stop by my room at the Hilton and we'd have a little drink before going over to the party. You hungry for anything?"
"No." She'd said it too quickly, too tightly.
Sam took an exit ramp. The streetlights were on and Marcia could see the twinkling glitter of neons beginning to change the night.
A doorman met the car at the hotel entrance, bowed courteously when Sam pushed a five-dollar bill into his palm. Marcia was watching the Lincoln glide away to the parking ramp when Sam squeezed her elbow and pulled her against him.
An evening wind caught her long brown hair and blew it back from her face. Sam looked at her like his mouth was about to water. She thought of the room they were heading for, thought of how it would be as the elevator doors cinched closed behind them. When the indicator read floor ten, Sam let his fingers slip down over her hip, down to the firm swell of her ass. The silk dress warmed to his touch. She gasped as a finger pressed into the crevice of her buttocks.
"Sam ... not now."
Marcia knew she was purer than Sam thought she was. She had been fucked by only one other man in her life. In the back seat of a car. A drive-in movie. She'd been nineteen. Her broken cherry had bled for an hour and the pain.
Sam's fingers squeezed her arm.
"Here's our floor, baby... something wrong?"
She stared at the hallway, the red carpet, the silent closed doors. Then she let him pull her from the elevator and down the hall. Her knees felt like rubber. She was faint and weak.
"Come on," Sam breathed against her ear, opening the door. "Come on inside and relax ....""You'd better fill this for me," Marcia said, holding her empty glass up.
The drink had helped a lot. She wanted more help. She was sweaty under the arms. Her silk dress made her skin feel tingly and strange. Damned new dress. She wished she'd worn a bra. But she didn't own one. How damned silly. What was wrong with her anyway? She was a big girl now. She could control things.
Sam came across the room. He never made any noise when he walked. Like a snake. He sat beside her and she took the glass from him. He put his lips against the side of her neck while she sipped. She didn't react, held her senses back . . . tried not to feel the hard, hot tip of his tongue.
"Mmmmm, that tickles."
Sam curved a hand around the top of her thigh where the silk dress ended. Her skin crawled. He had his jacket off, shirt unbuttoned. Marcia could see the thick, dark chest curls, could smell his cologne. Not a bad smell. She couldn't look into his eyes.
"You have the body and face of a model," he said, whispering into her ear. She felt him trace the outline of her ear with his tongue. "But I told you that last week, didn't I?"
"Yes." She dared to let him see her eyes for a moment.
"You have nice eyes too."
Marcia got up and smoothed the dress on her hips. She downed the drink suddenly, almost choking on it. Sam stood behind her, his arms pulled her back against his body. She felt that stiffness in his pants. It was arranged so that it jutted up between the silk-covered halves of her ass. Funny how she felt that.
"You seem nervous. Maybe I'd better help you calm down a little."
His mouth was on the back of her neck. He was holding her long hair up so he could get to it good. Marcia closed her eyes and tried to breathe evenly, tried to think of nothing at all. His tongue snaked wetly against her skin. She felt the instinctive excitement.
He was pulling her back hard against his hardness. She felt his prick pressing deeper into her asscrack. She moved slightly to free herself, but Sam only grunted and held her tighter. He was working on her ear now, biting the lobe.
"I think you're about ready to have a little fun, sweetheart. . . " His fingers smoothed her flat belly, searched down a thigh for the edge of the silk dress, found it and hooked under. The inside of her thigh burned wherever his fingers traced. She sighed aloud now. She didn't want him to do it, but she sighed.
He wasn't going to fuck her. That was all there was to it. She knew ways of keeping him from doing that. She knew...
"Sam."
"Come on." He put an arm around her and dragged her toward the bed. He was so much stronger than she thought.
She heard his pants sliding off as he pushed her back on the mattress. She smelled his musk. He was clean, but there was a heavy, musky heat about him. She closed her eyes and searched frantically down his belly for that thing she had to find and control. She didn't want to touch his cock. She had never touched a prick in her life. And when the hot tip of his cock brushed her hand, she pulled back.
"Big enough for you, baby?"
"Mmmmm."
Why was he so crude, so coarse? Why was she here in the hotel room with him? He was fumbling at the wristwatch now, slipping it from her as if he still owned it. He put it on the table by the bed and then kissed her wrist.
"You know I can't let you do anything tonight," she whispered, touching his head with her other hand.
"How come?"
"I had to go off the pill," she lied. She had never been on it. "It was giving me headaches."
"So?"
"So I'm really a very fertile girl. And the time of the month is just perfect for . . . " she shrugged, "you know."
Sam began to twist her brown hair in his fingers. She smiled, pretending to like it, but the twisting got tighter until her head was pulled back. Then it hurt. She looked wide-eyed and frightened into his eyes.
"Look, baby, I think it's about time you and I reached some understanding." He wound more hair around his fingers and brought her head back until her neck ached.
"Ohhh . . . that hurts . . Sam."
"I don't like a cunt fooling around with me too much ... like you been doing."
"Sam . . . " Her stomach bucked with fear. He was hurting her good now, really hurting her. His other hand reached up and took the top of the silk dress and yanked it down. The material came apart and Marcia felt one tit bounce free.
"I been wanting to see your tits for a month. I been acting real nice and proper, too, and you coming on like they're the crown jewels."
He tore the rest of the silk away. Marcia felt her nakedness, felt her nipples fill with blood.
And when Sam put his mouth around one dark areola, she bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. His fingers kept her head pulled back.
"Ohhhh. . . please don't, Sam."
"Sam's gonna do what the fuck he wants to tonight, baby." He tongued her nipple, sucked it deep between his teeth and nibbled. He brought her head upright again. "I could have any chick in this town but I wanted you. Ever since I first saw you come out of that store I wanted you. You think I'd give a damn if I hadn't shown you a good time, bought you that damn watch?"
"Maybe you should take the watch back, Sam." She wished she hadn't said it, but it was too late.
His eyes hardened.
"The watch is yours. And you belong to Sam Phulbert now." He sneered. "The boys are going to see you tonight and know that your sweet little ass belongs to me."
Marcia dropped her eyes. She wanted to cry.
"You stick with me and you'll have a lot of nice things. You can have any damned thing you want, you stick with me. I'm going to Mexico City next month and you can come along. Eddy and the boys are going to like you. You got some real class, honey."
He pressed his lips against hers. But it wasn't the kiss that made her groan with surprise. It was Sam's fingers that had pushed up the inside of her thigh and twisted aside the silk crotchpiece of her panties. She felt her clit forced down into the seeping folds of her pussy. She felt him rubbing it, rubbing it too hard.
She squirmed her hips, tried to move her cunt away from the touch. A thumb slipped into her cunt and wiggled as deep as it would go. She gasped for air against Sam's kiss and pushed against his shoulders.
Sam slapped them away, rolled her over onto her stomach. He held her wrists together at the small of her back.
Marcia heard silk tearing. Her dress. Her beautiful dress. The silk wrapped around her wrists. Sam was quick. So quick to go after what he wanted. The silk tightened until she felt the blood slow to her fingers. He knotted it expertly.
The bed punched down next to her face. He was kneeling there, pulling her up by the shoulders. She felt his cock brush her forehead.
"Oh God . . . what . . . Sam . . . what?"
She wished she hadn't had that second drink. She was helpless. Sam made her dry lips press against the purple, warm tip of his cock. It wasn't so big. Average? How could she know anything like that. His cock wasn't so big as to scare her, but it did. His prick was white, very white. With veins. But the tip wasn't white. Purple and blue and spongy.
She shuddered when he pushed her closed lips down again. She wanted to tell him to stop, but that would mean opening her mouth. Fingers... fingers probing at her jaw, pushing in until it hurt.
"Ahhhh!" she cried and Sam forced her mouth open.
Marcia felt faint and dizzy from the unexpected sensation. It was starting to dawn on her. . . this hotel room, her hands bound with silk behind her back. This man kneeling before her with the tip of his cock inside her mouth. Spit leaked from the corners of her mouth.
She tugged at the silken bonds. He forced her head down, holding her under the chin, finger against her throat as if he might choke her for the fun of it. The cock was being drenched with her spit, growing slick. His cock was so hot.
She began to sob.