Chapter 1
It was bitterly cold in the fire-gutted warehouse. A rising wind moaned dismally through innumerable crevices, sending flurries of snow swirling round the girl's feet.
She stood below a shattered skylight, impervious to the frozen flakes sifting down through the jagged gap. It was evening, long shadows encroaching, lingering sunrays creating grotesque patterns on the charred, decaying walls. Glass crunched underfoot whenever Rita moved.
She pulled the collar of her shabby coat higher, shivered, yet she was smiling as she gazed up at the bleak wintry sky. It had been a damned hard grind, and now she was right back where she started, except that Mike— God! It was good to be back with Mike. She wondered what it would be like in Germany, what the future held, not that it mattered all that much so long as she was with Mike. Remembering, she sighed.
That ruined storage depot held poignant memories. Two years ago— Rita sighed again, shuffled her cold feet. What was she doing there huddled amid the debris and the draughts? She had arranged to meet Mike at the bus depot. But there was still plenty of time. All the time in the w Strange, she thought, how they'd got together again after so long. Two years— God! It seemed like ten, yet she was still barely seventeen.
She groped in her coat pocket, found a stub of cigarette, and a match, lit the butt, inhaled deeply, coughed. She laughed cynically. Two years, and she was right back where she started, not much more than a kid and yet with a wealth of harsh experience cramming her mind.
Powdery snowflakes descending onto her upturned face, melting almost instantly when they touched her skin, formed liquid drops that were trapped, glistening briefly, in the black roots of her hair. She wore no hat. Her young life had reached the turning point in that burned-out building, her first introduction to the throbbing beat of a man's erection.
How vividly she remembered. She stepped back, leaned carelessly against a great baulk of charred timber, pushing her prominent bottom against the blackened beam. Even as a child she had been stubbornly defiant, a willful, resentful little cow existing in a squalid, depraved environment where the continual struggle to survive bred deceit and indifference. Ireland was beset with problems, Belfast especially, and Casey's Yard in particular.
Rita smiled wistfully. The old house in Casey's Yard hadn't changed much. Different occupants, but the same stenches and litter, the rats and the crumbling plaster. Rita wondered what became of her brothers after their parents emigrated. She couldn't imagine Sean or Shamus in Australia. Her father was dead, that much she knew, but she hadn't heard from her mother in two years, nor the boys.
Rita shrugged. Balls to them. They had never meant very much to her. Looking back on her life, she had never had very much of anything until she walked away from Casey's Yard one morning without even the fare to Dublin in her pocket.
Reminiscing, Rita subconsciously compressed her voluptuous thighs together. She had traveled a long, hard road since then, but she had been sexually mature even before she left the slums. That was what life was all about, all that really mattered-SEX. It had got her halfway up the tree, and it had dragged her down, and now it was taking her to Germany, and after that— Sex education came early in the festering atmosphere of Casey's Yard. As a small girl Rita had been motivated by compulsive curiosity and influenced by disturbing emotions, deriving extreme pleasure from probing and stimulating intimate areas of her firm young body. Her physical development was excitingly rapid. When she was twelve her breasts were already formed—prominently pouting cones jutting proudly, the nipples long and dark, like fertile buds that swelled and hardened whenever she handled them. She often stood naked in the small bedroom shared with her brothers, appraising her reflection in the blotchy mirror, rubbing her tits and pulling the soft, hairless slit of her cunt out of shape, even then experiencing vaguely alarming but intensely pleasurable sensations. The difference between her virgin slit and her brothers' genitals aroused he curiosity. She often saw their young cocks stiff erect, and watched them indulging in masturbation. Sometimes they taunted her until she played with their hard, throbbing pricks, and they frequently examined her little quim and attempted to insert a rampant cock into it.
To Rita, it was all a game, like watching her parents screwing. Her mother was a large, voluptuous creature with unkempt black hair, enormous breasts, and tremendous buttocks that rolled and quivered when she walked. Storm McLeary, Rita's father, a great shaggy bear of a man, rarely sober, took the coarse, vulgar mountain of flesh whenever the mood seized him, completely indifferent to the gaping presence of his kids, ignoring them and their giggling in the berserk fury of his lust. Teresa McLeary was as depraved and uncouth as her husband. She preferred it from behind, dog fashion, and would obligingly bend over, flipping her loose clothing up, when the husband indicated his need, crouching with her fat arse thrust out while the man approached her with his rigidly swollen penis pulsing and twitching, smirking and encouraging him when he separated her arse cheeks, and grunting like a fat sow when his bloated knob channeled into her tremendous hairy gash. His great prick would ram in wetly and be immediately engulfed, and the kids would watch every furious movement, the frantic bucking and shoving, the furious shagging, hearing groans and grunts, the boys jerking off, Rita squatting in the shadowy recess clutching her sensitive quim, open mouthed with astonishment and intense excitement. Before it was over they always scuttled away, wary of their father's bestial temper.
In addition to her intimate association with Shamus and Sean, Rita was a target for sexual interference at school and at play, and was usually a willing participant. Her unusual development attracted older boys, and she learned fast. But her first actual experience of fornication happened when she was almost fifteen.
Remembering, Rita sighed. She flipped the cigarette stub away. She would go soon. It was a long walk to the bus depot.
Two years ago, almost to the day. It had been Sean's birthday, and all the kids had gathered in Regan's warehouse, a rambling barn of a building adjoining a former brewery. The place had not been used since the brewery shut down, and was a haven for rats—and kids. Shamus and some of the others had scrounged enough food and drink for a modest party. They had laughed and played among the old crates and littered straw. Eventually the party had broken up. Rita stayed behind with Shamus and an older boy named Mike Howard, looking for a pocket-knife her brother had lost. Eventually Shamus found his knife and went off... leaving Rita and Mike alone.
Rita had always admired Mike. He was big and strong and darkly handsome, with a wide, sensual mouth and flashing eyes, and a way of smiling that went right through her. He was always watching Rita, touching her whenever he got the chance. When she closed her eyes it all came back to her. The acute quiet in the deserted warehouse, the moonlight shafting through the grimy, broken windows. Mike had shut the massive double doors, secured them with a thick timber. He had found a battered kerosene lamp somewhere, lit it, and placed it on a cobwebbed crate. Rita regarded him solemnly in the yellowish glimmer. Neither of them spoke. Even then the strengthening bond between them was being forged. Mike was a few years older than Rita, clever, mechanically minded, intent on becoming an engineer.
Seated on an empty crate, he had held out his arms toward Rita, and she had let him embrace her and draw her close, between his parted legs. When he placed his hands on her bottom and fondled her buttocks through her thin dress, Rita trembled. Mike had laughed, pulled her against him, reached up and clasped both hands behind her head, bringing her mouth close to his. He had kissed her, and Rita had experienced hot thrills of pleasure. When his tongue probed into her mouth she became frightened and squirmed away, but he jerked her back, abruptly thrust a hand up her clothing and between her plump thighs, feeling the pouting cleft of her cunt through her cotton panties, telling her not to be afraid.
Rita had allowed him to pull her panties down. She obeyed him without question, prompted by a mounting intensity of longing, of indefinable need, and by recurring spasms of hotly exciting sensations. She felt guilty, yet suddenly mature and grown up—as if she understood what it was all about. Trembling on the brink of apprehensive surrender, she reveled in the exquisite intimacy of the moment, her heart thumping, belly taut, arse cheeks nipped tightly together as that groping hand clutched and manipulated her cringing yet desirous quim.
Mike had removed her panties altogether. He raised her dress and avidly examined her warm, moistly pulsing vagina, rubbing the soft lips, parting them, inserting a thick finger. His face was on a level with her virgin cunt, and Rita remembered how she cried out when he suddenly protruded his tongue and licked the quivering slit. His hands clasped her bared buttocks, squeezing convulsively, his fingertips delving into the deep crack and stretching the dark flesh away from her anus. He was breathing heavily, panting, his breath hot against her vulnerable mound and the rising swell of her belly, and Rita, giggling, had widened the spread of her legs and wriggled her downy cunt against Mike's adoring mouth, writhing in ecstatic torment when his tongue found her clitoris and curled around the torridly erectile stub.
But when he suddenly grasped her left hand and forced it against the bulging outline of his confined penis, Rita felt a flicker of alarm. Then, emboldened, stimulated by that goading tongue, she had squeezed the hard core of his cock, complying instantly when he instructed her to take his prick out. She fumbled, clutching at the throbbing roll, her tension increasing as it pulsed against her unsteady fingers. Eventually Mike knocked her hand away and ripped his fly buttons undone, his stiff penis emerged, hugely distended, surging proudly erect, a much bigger organ than either of her brothers possessed, frighteningly enormous and powerful.
Mike recaptured Rita's hand and conveyed it to his jerking tool. She promptly closed her clammy fingers round it, fingers sticky with candy and j and trembled in the grip of new sensations as the rampant phallus strained and throbbed within the tight clutch of her hot hand. Rita began a chafing friction, whanking energetically the way her brothers had taught her. Her face was deeply flushed. There was tightness around the puckered pit of her anus and in the palpitating cleft of her vagina. She had felt a sudden compulsion to press her mouth against Mike's fascinating cock, to kiss it all over, and suck the broad, arrogant knob. It was a new feeling, a craving she had never experienced with either of her brothers, so strong she yielded to it, sank abruptly to her knees and, squatting, grasped Mike's penis with both hands, gazed rapturously at it for a while, awed yet obsessed, deliciously wanton and defiant. Then, timidly, she thrust the tip of her tongue at the moist, round opening gaping in the center of the grossly swollen glans like a diminutive replica of her tremulous quim.
Mike's muscular body tensed violently. He gripped her head fiercely and stabbed his turgid prick savagely at her mouth, but despite the abnormal distortion of her lips Rita's mouth was too small to accommodate the tremendous fleshy roll, and after several futile attempts Mike desisted. Crouching, alternately kneeling then rocking back on her heels, Rita trailed her tongue up and down Mike's regal cock. She eased his testicles from his gaping fly, gently handled the wrinkled scrotum, wound her fingers repeatedly into the great mass of black hair covering his lower belly and extending down the insides of his thighs, sprouting thickly round his balls. His savagely bloated penis was bigger than her father's gross tool, and the vision of her father's cruelly distended organ grinding into her mother's great cow's cunt was predominant in Rita's mind as she responded to Mike's hoarse demands.
Pulling at her flesh, mouthing crude entreaties and obscene instructions, Mike turned Rita round and again jerked her dress up, pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. He dropped abruptly to his knees and, gripping her hips with painful force, plunged his reddened face into the dusky cleavage of her young bottom, wallowing in the warm tender rut, clenching the soft yielding cheeks, forcing them together, bunching her flesh into great ridges against his sweating face, then hugely separating the quivering ovals and stretching her exposed anus with gouging thumbs and probing his tongue into the hole, licking avidly, delivering rapid, stabbing thrusts that curled the extreme tip of his tongue deep into the shuddering aperture.
Finally he stood up, breathing heavily, brusquely ordered Rita to bend over more acutely, and when she obeyed immediately rammed his frantic penis into the division of her bottom, quickly chafing his knob down the dusky groove toward the glistening vale of her young vagina. His hugely erect organ beat torridly against the swollen, inflamed vulva, and Rita felt his hot touch on her quim, the initial tentative displacement of his gouging knob. She was at once horribly afraid but stubbornly resolved to endure, to enjoy, to give herself blindly and utterly regardless of pain and discomfort and fears, secure in the certainty of her love and passion, wanting pain, the joyous agony of giving, wanting to be possessed, to take the final irrevocable step.
Yet the gnawing anxiety would not be denied, and when Mike forced her legs wider apart and she felt the initial savage intrusion of his iron-hard knob Rita experienced acute fear, and she cried out, struggling desperately. But that ravaging boom ground relentlessly in—slowly, but inexorably forcing an entry-stretching the tender fissure agonizingly, creating fierce friction despite the amazing resilience and elasticity of her flesh. Sharply recurring spasms stabbed her tortured quim and ripped into her belly. Mike had several inches of rigid cock into her and maintained his advantage, grasping her hips and shuffling forward with every lunging thrust, countering her attempts to escape, continually battering deeper until the searing concentration of screwing agony suddenly burst and spread in a sweeping wave of glowing sensation amid squelching lubrication and was dispersed, replaced by surging spasms of acutely delightful sensation, itching, clawing, glorious sensations that increased with every brutal stroke.
Abruptly then, her ravished passage was flooded with the spurting gush of hot sperm; the tightness was completely gone-and with it much of the exquisite pleasure.
Remembering, Rita shivered. She'd had more cock than hot dinners since that warm summer night, and yet that delicious moment was as clear in her mind as when it happened. She squirmed. There was a wetness between her taut thighs. Deliberately she forced her mind back, recapturing the demoralizing details. When she closed her eyes briefly she could still see Mike's withdrawn prick steaming and glistening, and hear the wet sucking sounds as it plopped from her saturated maw. The insides of her thighs had been slimy, her cunt aching and throbbing, her whole body trembling. When she turned Mike was standing with knees bent, his loins thrust out, accentuating the enormity of his twitching penis. Still huge, tremendously swollen, it jerked and pulsed, dribbling. Mike, grinning, enclosed the fat roll just behind the knob in his big right hand and squeezed dollops of glutinous semen from the glans opening. He began rubbing and pulling his cock, masturbating, enjoying Rita's fascination and changing expressions, jerking off energetically, mouth open, eyes half closed, head twisting. Rita watched him, marveling as his ponderous penis thickened, pulsing and swelling. A peculiar but exciting flutter kept recurring in her wet minge—and she fingered the restless slit, uttering lewd encouragement prompted by an impatient desire to see Mike come, to watch the semen spurt from his fat stiff prick. Eventually she could bear the suspense no longer and added the hot clutch of her small hands to the pressure of Mike's strong fingers, crouching so that when the milky fluid did finally squirt some of it spattered on her face. The huge penis within her grasp gathered strength, rearing tremendously. The rounded aperture continued to exude little jets of sperm. Mike groaned. She felt the violent trembling of his muscular body. The warm stickiness of his ejaculation was on her lips and in her nostrils and the roots of her hair, its unique exciting odor stimulating her own fiercely recurring passions. In a frenzy of longing and lust she clung to Mike's penis, kissing it, licking the purple knob, gulping every pungent drop of oozing semen, overwhelmed with the delirious ecstasy of being so completely merged with Mike, so intimately possessed, almost a part of him, knowing she belonged, that she was no longer a girl.
She tried again to take his cock into her mouth, and partially succeeded, but the ache in her jaws undermined resolve and she relinquished the relaxing tool. But all the time the gnawing want inside her was becoming stronger, more compelling, a ravenous hunger urging her to even closer, more positive carnal contact. She wanted that jerking penis inside her again, to feel its churning hugeness impaling her.
She sprawled on her back on a heap of musty straw, and eagerly opened her legs wide, exposing her vagina to Mike. But he was not interested. His attitude was distant, indifferent, almost resentful. Rita was too inexperienced to understand. She felt hurt, slighted, then angry. Then the mood passed and she was contrite and filled with tenderness at the wonder of it all, the splendor of Mike and her love for him. They shared a secret she would keep forever.
Mike made her promise to keep silent, but she needed no prompting. Their guilty secret was safe with her. Mike had opened up a whole new exciting world. Looking at his dropping penis, she vaguely understood the waning of his enthusiasm. When he said, thickly, "Just give me a minute, kitten. I'm not through yet, but I'm no bloody superman," Rita's happiness was complete. Lying on the straw, she watched Mike light a cigarette. Presently he stretched out beside her and for a while she played with his limp cock, trying to curb her impatience, wishing it would stiffen again.
When, eventually, it did, Mike crushed out the cigarette and roughly mounted her, crushing her into the sour-smelling straw. When she felt his hand fumbling at her receptive vagina and then the warm, prodding intrusion of his skewering rod, Rita sighed happily and surrendered unreservedly, staring wide-eyed into Mike's convulsed face as he fucked with furious concentration, grunting and groaning, his belly hard against hers, his youthful vigor fully restored. His mouth moved hotly from her heaving breasts up to her throat and across her face until his lips covered hers, and she writhed to the pulsing drive of his tongue, a flickering assault that created darting, tingling sensations all over her mouth so that she lay squirming, stupefied by the weight of rapturous pleasure thrilling her young body, limp and passively receptive, then passionately violent, pushing up against the hard core of his invading prick.
His fingers cradled the cheeks of her tight bottom, and as he fucked he kneaded her flesh, provoking frantic surges of torrid movement that forced his ravaging penis further in, belly pounding belly, until the tempestuous outpouring of seething orgasm quickened Mike's uncoordinated spasms and he was overwhelmed by sweeping waves of explosive delight that left him limp and gasping with his face hot and sticky against Rita's pulsating neck.
And in that moment she cried out in the wonder of fulfillment, clung ferociously to the panting youth, her eyes closed in ecstasy, the softness of her pelvic mound squashed against the hairy protrusion of Mike's pubic bone structure, his throbbing prick pumping, beating inside her with all the strength and regularity of her child's heart.