Chapter 5
The days dragged by for Frieda, who expected some comment or command from Max at any minute. He was crude and sadistic enough to drop something at the dinner table, something that she knew Brian would catch in a hurry. She dreaded every time she had to have dinner with the family, knowing that Max was staring at her, planning something for her. Tommy sat sullenly at his end of the table, always watching Max intently. Frieda was never sure whether it was fear or hate that lit up her stepbrother's eyes, but she knew it wasn't respect or love for his father. Several times she tried to talk to him, but he just turned away as though she were going to hurt him. And, indirectly, she had. He still had a few marks from that beating Max had given him in the basement. Frieda wondered if everyone believed the story Max had told them that Tommy had fallen down the stairs. It was so hokey that they probably did! Her mother certainly wasn't perceptive, and Brian and Betty never seemed to notice Tommy around. Neither had Frieda, until she had no choice. Now, she thought of making him her ally, someone who, if she played her cards right, might be able to help her when she needed it. Putting the rape out of her mind as best she could, Frieda talked to Tommy more frequently, being careful not to arouse him for another basement scene. That, she didn't need.
As a result, Tommy was scampering around the house the day of the bridal shower like a happy eight-year-old, trying to help Betty, Frieda and her mother in any way he could. He probably doesn't even realized he committed a sex act, she thought as she handed her stepbrother some barbecue sauce to take out to the clearing for the picnic. He beamed at her as though he had been given the highest honor possible, then ran quickly out the door.
"Looks like he's got a crush on you, Frieda," Betty said jokingly, patting her on the ass as she walked by. The words weighed heavily on Frieda's mind, dredging up the horrible memory of her rape. She lifted her hand as if to brush away the memory, and busied herself in getting the living room ready for the guests.
In an hour some guests began arriving... neighbors, and friends of Betty's whom Frieda looked over closely.
"Frieda, have you seen Betty? The guests are coming, and she should be here to welcome them," her mother said to her quietly. Frieda said that she thought Betty was upstairs getting ready, and that she'd run up to tell her that people were beginning to arrive.
The door to their bedroom was slightly ajar, and Frieda didn't think twice about announcing herself. As she put her hand on the doorknob to open it, she heard heavy breathing. Then there was another sound: a heavy sigh, followed by a long, choking moan. Frieda lifted her eyebrows in surprise. Could it be that Brian was in the room fucking her? Jealousy and desire swept over her like a tidal wave, and she opened the door a crack to see what was going on.
What she saw surprised her. Betty was standing in front of the full-length mirror wearing only her
blue bra and panties. She reached back to unsnap her bra. She let the bra fly open on her back, and then moved both hands to her neck. Slowly, sensuously, she ran her fingers along her neck, fingering her almost translucent flesh delicately. She continued to run her index fingers down toward the bra that now hung loosely on her tits. With every move she made Betty let out a low groan, grinding her hips back and forth slightly, obviously trying to scratch a very itchy clit.
Betty fingered the top of the bra, then pushed it down, jerking it off dramatically as if she knew Frieda was watching her. Frieda smelled cunt juice in the air, and wondered it if were hers or Betty's. Her panties were soaked already, and she could see telltale puddles appearing in the crotch of the girl's frilly panties.
Betty cupped her small tits in her hands, then began slowly massaging them. She continued doing this until her eyes began to glaze over. Oh Christ, what am I doing? Frieda said to herself, realizing that she'd been running her hands over her own tits, squeezing the spongy flesh, tickling the taut skin of her erect nipples through her blouse. With each squeeze Frieda felt her cunt contract slightly, and she ached to have Betty's tongue flicking inside her, rubbing against her swollen clit, driving her up the wall.
Betty's hips began to churn back and forth. Then, as though spurred on by her own motion, she began to gyrate her ass. Suddenly she pulled her panties down to her ankles, reached between her thighs and, while continuing to rotate her ass back and forth, shoved her finger deep into her swollen cunt.
Frieda looked behind her nervously. No one was coming up the stairs. Quietly, she tiptoed to the top of the stairs and closed and locked the door, returning just as quietly to the slightly opened bedroom door. Frieda saw that Betty was still finger-fucking herself. Reaching down and hiking up her skirt, she grabbed her pink panties and slid them down, noticing the tiny trail of cunt juice that glistened down her legs. Then her hands moved to her wet cunt. She found her hungry slit hot and tingling, the lips of her cunt dripping and swollen. She grabbed her wet, sensitive clit between her forefinger and thumb, then plunged three fingers of her other hand into her cunt. She writhed and twisted in this position, watching Betty's gyrations becoming more frenzied as she obviously was catapulting herself toward climax. Frieda's itching, throbbing clitoris responded in tingling spasms as she continued stroking it between her fingers.
Suddenly she saw Betty's body grow rigid and vibrate. Frieda felt a sympathetic shudder begin at her toes. She wanted to head for a bed to find a comfortable position to continue, but her cum was approaching quickly, and then she was vibrating in the throes of her orgasm.
Betty groaned loudly, but Freida clenched her teeth, forcing herself to stifle the groans of delight that demanded to escape from between her teeth. Half the excitement was in her being unnoticed by Betty. Here she was, only a few feet away from her mother and a group of respectable guests downstairs munching on sandwiches, with her fingers up her twat, cunt juice streaming down the flushed skin of her thighs, watching her future sister-in-law finger-fucking herself in front of a mirror. She nearly laughed when she thought of it, but caught herself and backed away quietly.
Slipping back into her panties, Frieda walked back to the hall door, opened it, then walked back down the hall, making as much noise as she could so that Betty would know she was coming.
"Betty, Mom's wondering where you are and what's keeping you." Frieda heard the bathroom door slam as she entered the room. She smiled to herself.
"I just got through in the shower," Betty said.
"I'll be down in a second."
"Come down when you can...people are beginning to show," Frieda called out as she left. She felt a hundred feet high, the way she always felt after cumming. It wasn't the same as having cock jamming its way up your cunt, but it was better than nothing.
Frieda was chatting with one of the guests, a blonde with the big tits, when Betty came down and walked over to them. In an instant Frieda knew that the two of them were tonguing friends. There was something too soft, too intimate in the tone of their voices not to indicate that there was something between them. Then Frieda watched Betty move around the room to her other friends, and she noticed the same softness, the same intimacy she had shown with the big blonde.
As the afternoon passed, and as Betty opened one gift after another, Frieda's mind kept circling around Brian. She decided she would try to get together with him that night.
"Frieda, wake up!" her mother called to her. Frieda jerked her head and realized that the room was half empty. "We're going out for the picnic now. I swear, that girl's been going around like she's in a coma or something," her mother said lightly to Betty as she walked out the door.
"I'll be with you in a second," she called out as she went up the stairs to the bathroom. She closed and locked the door, and sat on the toilet. Her clit began to tingle as she thought of Betty, and she reached between her legs. Suddenly, her thoughts shifted and a picture of Brian lit up in her mind. Her cunt was already moist in anticipation of the evening she had planned for the two of them.
To lose Brian, even a little bit to Betty, bothered her. Ws probably all in my mind...hell never prefer her to me, she told herself. It was all her imagination, just as her mental image of his long, rigid cock was the product of her imagination, just as her vision of his prick spurting its wads of cream-colored jism into her mouth and cunt was no more than a figment of her imagination.
Her ass felt chilly against the cold toilet seat. But there was nothing chilly about her crotch...it was a pit of hot, steaming juices that were boiling and splashing against the walls of her cunt.
It was like the night of the graduation ball at the university. She'd had a date with Bill Greene, vice-president of the Students for Democratic Action, that night. They were both leaving the campus the next day. This would be their last time together, and Bill, she knew, would be trying to fuck her. She was no virgin, but Bill was someone special to her, and she was afraid that he'd grow tired of her if she passed her cunt to him on a silver platter the first night they went out. So she kept shoving him away, occasionally letting him grab a quick feel of her dripping snatch while she gently squeezed his eight-inch cock.
Bill was strong and tall and handsome, and had a jaw that jutted forward and prompted the less inhibited girls to giggle about what it might be like to have that hunk of bone digging into one's crotch. Bill was virile, or so the gossip had it; a boy who could make several touchdowns on the football field, dance with everyone at the post-game dance, and still have energy left over for three or four hours of fucking. And Bill was taking her, Frieda, to the ball.
It was a warm June night, a night when you could smell the flowers in the air and the crickets and other night animals and insects could be heard no matter where you walked. She was sitting in the living room of her sorority house, trying not to blush as the other girls, who were also waiting for their dates, smirked and whispered behind her back.
Eight o'clock. Time for Bill Greene to pick her up. There was a faint rumble of a car engine in the distance; the sound made something happen in Frieda's crotch, although it could have been one of the other girls' dates. There was Frieda, the picture of sophistication, dripping cunt juice into her panties. She was afraid to stand up, fearing that some would drip out and land in a tiny puddle on her foot.
The car pulled up to the house, and it was Bill. Frieda shuddered, but managed to stand up. She felt hot between her legs, her panties virtually soaked with juice, her face burning with desire, and perspiration beginning to bead on her forehead. The girls smiled strangely at her, but Frieda was only aware of Bill, the dark, sensuous night, the flutterings in her cunt.
They danced until two in the morning, then drove out in the country, walked hand-in-hand to a small grove of orange trees, then fucked until the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon. She'd never done it like that before, never felt the thrill she had when he slid his long dick into her taut cunt...when she cried out and moaned in ecstasy, shuddered and twitched with the excitement of it, with the romance of it, with the thrill of being fucked by this football star whose white dinner jacket lay under her hips, catching the sweat and cunt juice and cum.
Frieda took a deep breath to bring her mind back to the present. She quickly dabbed at her soaking crotch with a piece of toilet paper. She'd come in to take a pee, not thinking that she'd be playing with herself again. Frieda pissed, dabbed at her cunt again, stood up and drew her panties back up over her hips and exhaled.
When she went downstairs, she saw that everyone had gone out for the picnic. She amazed herself that she could take part in these pre-marriage celebrations and still be planning to fuck her brother that evening. She smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and pranced out the house to the gathering of women.
The chattering continued for what seemed like hours for Frieda. Every few minutes she would glance at her watch, hoping that six o'clock would come, for that was the time that Brian was scheduled to get back from an afternoon bachelor luncheon that was being hosted by some of his friends. Only four-thirty! She looked up and saw Betty nod with her head toward the woods, then get up and walk slowly toward the trees.
In a few minutes Frieda excused herself and followed Betty as inconspicuously as possible. She walked around in the leaf-filtered sunlight looking for her, until she spotted Betty kneeling by a small pond almost in the center of the woods.
"What did you want me for?" Frieda asked as she walked slowly over to Betty. She still saw her spread-legged in the bedroom, her head tossed back in ecstasy as she finger-fucked herself to an orgasm.
"There's something going on, isn't there?" Betty said seriously, staring up at her.
"Going on? What do you mean? Of course there's..."
"No, I don't mean that. I've been watching everybody lately. Brian's on edge, you're jumpy, Tommy's slinking around unless he's with you. And that Max!"
Frieda involuntarily shuddered. She could still see him crouching over her in the basement, his cock drooling out the last few drops of cum as the rest of it slid slowly down her face and neck to the cement floor.
"I thought so!" Betty said, observing Frieda's movement. "What happened between you and
Max."
Frieda, didn't want to involve Betty in this more than she had to, and so denied that anything had happened. Her denial, however, was half-hearted, and died on her lips before she finished the sentence. The horror of her situation suddenly hit her like a falling barbell, and she covered her face with her hands.
"Oh God. Oh my God, if you only knew," she moaned, falling to her knees. Betty came up to her and put her arm on Frieda's shoulder.
"Tell me," she whispered encouragingly. "If there's something wrong, two heads together are better than one. Maybe we can figure something out." Frieda thought that Betty might be right, and decided to tell her everything.
"Oh my God!" Betty exclaimed after hearing the story. "And he still has those pictures?"
"I think so. He hasn't given them to me, although I've looked all over for them when I could. I even asked Tommy if he's seen them, but I don't think he has."
"Whatever we do we can't let your mother or Brian know about this. I hate to think what would happen if they found out."
Frieda shuddered at the thought, then froze as she heard a voice come from behind the tree next to her.
"And nobody's gonna tell them anything as long as you cooperate."
Frieda jumped to her feet and spun around. Max was standing by the tree leering at both of them. Frieda sensed danger and tried to warn Betty.
"I think we'd better get out of here," she said softly to her, looking around like a trapped animal for the best way out. Max took a few steps forward then stopped.
"You ain't goin' anywhere. I told you I had more in store for you later. Well, now's as good a time as ever." Frieda's eyes opened wide as she saw Max drop his right hand to his crotch and cup it gently over his fly.
"Max, please, don't, not here..." Frieda began. But Betty had already taken action by stepping between her and Max.
"You're a sick old man, Max. You should be jerking off in toilets or somewhere else where you don't bother people. Leave us along and go play your games by yourself."
Max was taken aback by this sudden resistance to his authority. People usually obeyed him when he spoke. This was the first time a woman had stood up to him, and it infuriated him.
"Listen, you dyke, don't tell me what to do. I've got some pretty pictures of you and that bitch there suckin' each other's cunts, while her brother's trying to make up his mind which one of you he's gonna fuck."
Betty's eyes grew narrow with rage and she ran at Max with her hands stretched out. He braced himself for attack, then swung violently at her face, knocking her brutally to the ground.
Frieda started to run to help Betty, but Max grabbed her left arm and swung her around until she crashed into his protruding belly.
"We've got a few things to do, now," Max whispered hoarsely, pulling Frieda even closer and clamping his lips to hers. Frieda could tell that he wanted to hurt her, to humiliate her. He wanted to rape her, to sink his old withered cock into her young cunt. He wanted to humiliate her in a way that would really bite deep so that she couldn't possibly imagine that it was Brian between her legs. One of his hands was rolling at one of her huge tits, which for Frieda brought her back to the immediate danger of her situation. She tried not to vomit as Max's lips slithered over hers. She opened her mouth quickly, admitting Max's wiggling tongue, then clamped her teeth hard on it and his lower lip. He screamed, exhaling his putrid breath down her throat. Frieda fell backward with revulsion.
"You fuckin' bitch!" Max sputtered, holding one hand partly over his mouth. Frieda cowered only four feet in front of him, not knowing whether to run for help and leave Betty to whatever Max might do to her, or stay and fight. Frieda looked up and saw Max lunge at her. Before she could turn away, he had her by the throat and was choking her. Then he let go, and she fell helpless to the ground.
Struggling would do no good, she realized, but she felt she had to at least try to protect herself. Frieda tried to focus her eyes to see what Max was up to. She was propping herself up on her right elbow, rubbing her eyes with her left hand, when she felt a heavy weight force her hard against the ground.
The crushing weight of his body all over her and the pressure of his probing hands made it all but useless to resist. She felt one of his hands reach down between them and unzip his pants. In a second she could feel his hard cock as it jerked against the flesh of the inside of her right thigh. She knew that he was going to fuck her. She felt his juice-smeared cockhead slide slowly higher, higher up between her thighs and she gritted her teeth, trying to fight back the urge to be sick. She felt his cock probing, slipping between her legs.
"Unnnh!" she heard him grunt. His hands ran freely over her body, pulling up her skirt, pushing down her panties and stroking her black, wiry pubic hair, and she moaned in protest. Max mistook the moan for a sign of pleasure.
"I knew you'd love it, baby, once you got used to it. Old Maxie's gonna make you feel real fine, if you just behave."
Behave! I've got a choice? Oh Jesus, what's he doing? He's sliding down and . . . oh shit! He wants to eat me out! I've got to think of something else or I'll scream and everybody'll come running and then. . . oh God! It's Brian, Brian between my thighs, his tongue tickling my cuntlips. . . oh yesss!
"Oh God, that feels so gooood," she moaned softly, pushing her spit-soaked pussy into his face, hungrily jerking her thighs against his tongue, begging for more.
Her cunt exploded in waves of pleasure as Max's tonguing became more frenzied.
She felt a finger worming its way into her asshole. It jammed its way in like a torpedo, ramming up deep inside her, causing her to scream with ecstatic release.
Suddenly, the tongue and the finger shot out at the same time, and Frieda stopped her fantasizing. It wasn't Brian on top of her but Max. Max, her stepfather, her fat, ugly, beer-swilling bad-breathed stepfather who had dribbled his spit deep into her cunt. God! She wanted to grab anything...a rock, a knife...and throw it at him.
"Now for the best part!" Max trumpeted, throwing himself back on top of her and forcing her legs high into the air.
"Wh-what are y-you..."
"Shut up, bitch!" he answered angrily, raising his hand high and bringing it down against the right side of her face. Frieda thought she was going to lose consciousness. She decided it was useless to struggle or say anything. She felt his cock sliding into the junction of her cuntlips, sliding over the slick membranes to her opening, pushing into the hole.
"Aiyee!" Max cried, sounding like a dog being run over by a truck as he pumped his cock in her cunt. She could feel his body stiffening and his acrid breath coming in short gasps as his cum spurted into her cunt. At last he slowed down, and she thought that his climax was over, but he surprised her by coming back with greater force until he groaned with a sound Frieda recognized as a sign that it was all over.
Max pulled his softening cock from her cunt. She glanced at his face and saw how he was grinning stupidly and drooling out of the side of his mouth. She could feel the mixture of saliva, cunt juice and cum trickling down her thighs. She wished she could stick a garden hose between her legs and turn it on full force to clean herself out. "I told you you'd like it."
"I loved it, Max," Frieda said. She knew now that she had to do something to stop her stepfather. He would keep on molesting her and God knows who else until he was stopped somehow.
"Unnnh." Frieda remembered Betty when she heard her moan, and she rolled over until she rested by her side.
"Betty?" she whispered softly, taking her head in her hands. Betty's eyes fluttered open and she looked around questioningly. "It's all right, Max got what he was after. Hell leave us alone."
"For now, baby, for now. But I'd like to see the two of you in action some day. You know, just .like them movies, but youll do it in front of me, live!" he said, standing up, flopping his cock back into his pants. "Now you girls get back to the picnic. They'll think something happened to you." Max laughed as he turned and walked away.
"We've got to do something," Betty whispered to Frieda.
She knew Betty was right, but what could she do?