Chapter 4
Mr. and Mrs. Johnson sat eating their dinner in silence. Mr. Johnson took a long swallow from the beer can he held, emptying it. He belched loudly and slammed the container on the table, staring hard at his dinner partner.
His dutiful wife took the obvious hint and went to the refrigerator. She took out another beer and brought it to him. She wished he wouldn't drink so much but she was afraid to say anything to him about it and start a fight. He was half-loaded already. He took the beer from her and popped it open, spraying the table with a foamy mist. She didn't say a word, just moving back to her seat. Mr. Johnson tapped his foot menacingly on the floor and the air was heavy with dread anticipation.
Oh, Mary, hurry home, please, Mrs. Johnson thought silently. She feared the scene she knew would occur as soon as her daughter returned and the later it got, the worse it would be. And she was powerless to do anything about it. She glanced at the kitchen clock and took another bite.
Tommy left Mary at the usual corner and, kissing her good-bye, turned to go home. She watched him leave and had to struggle with her feelings. She wanted to run after him and take him and just keep running. Together. Anywhere. But she knew it was out of the question, for him anyway. But she could daydream. And she turned with a tear welling in her eye. She wiped it away with resignation. It's not the end of the world, she thought.
Pausing in the hallway of her apartment house, Mary tugged her clothes to make sure everything was in order. She knew her father would give her a hard time about being late, and, of course, about not wearing a bra. She couldn't imagine what he would do if he found her zipper down or her blouse open. Probably pant like a dog in heat, she decided. Well, everything seems in order. She took a deep breath, might as well get it over with. I hope he hasn't been drinking too much today, she thought. Not much chance.
Mary opened the door as quietly as she could and stepped lightly inside. Even the little noise she made was evident in the silent apartment.
"Mary!"
She didn't answer. "MARY!".
"Yes," she responded, a little too sweetly.
"Where the hell have you been?" her father yelled, hurrying into the living room. His eyes were glazed and slightly bloodshot and Mary knew he was at least partly drunk. And that meant trouble. He marched right up to her and stared hard into her eyes.
"I said, where have you been? You know we eat dinner the same time every night. Since when are you privileged enough to hold us up?"
"I'm sorry. I just lost track of the time."
"Where were you?" Mr. Johnson asked again, grabbing and squeezing her arm for emphasis.
"Dad, please. You're hurting me."
"I asked you a question."
"I was with some friends," she answered, unsuccessfully trying to pull free of his grasp. "Who?"
"Just some friends from school. Please let go of me."
"What did you do?"
"We just sat around and talked."
Mr. Johnson suddenly realized what the odor was permeating his alcoholic haze. Whiskey. There was whiskey on his young daughter's breath. He grabbed her by the neck roughly and pulled her face to his, their lips almost touching.
"You've been drinking! Drinking!"
"I-I-" she stammered, searching desperately for some answer.
"You lousy stinkin' liar!" He began shaking her by the shoulders.
"Let go of me ... let me go!" Mary yelled, struggling hard against his strong grip. Her braless breasts swung free under her blouse. And he noticed it.
"Where's your bra? What did I tell you? You filthy tramp."
Mr. Johnson grabbed his daughter's small breast and crushed it in his strong hand.
"Ouchhh!" she screamed. "Let go. Let go!"
He tightened his grip on her tit, feeling her oozy flesh between his fingers. He was punishing her, but it was terribly exciting to him sexually. It was the first time he had ever touched her boobs and they felt good.
"What else did you do? Huh, what else?" His eyes were wild-looking. "Did you fuck anybody? Did you show these cute little tits off? Did someone get into your pants, cunt?"
Mrs. Johnson finally appeared at the doorway. Her face was pale with what she saw and heard. She couldn't believe the sight before her eyes. "My God, John, please ... please!"
"SHUT UP!" he snarled without turning and his wife slumped against the wall, feeling faint. "Well?" back to Mary. "Did you get laid?" His mouth was crooked in lewd sneer.
Mary felt like her breast was being pulled out of its socket. It hurt like hell and yet, in a strange way, it excited her, this rough sexual treatment. And it made her madder to know that her body was betraying her and responding to this mistreatment. Her hatred of him was stronger and with a mighty thrust, she pulled away from the crazy man and backed up against the side wall, rubbing her sore boob to try and ease the pain.
"No, no, I didn't fuck anyone. I didn't." She was yelling as she leaned on the wall. Then, she stopped and her voice became low. "You know what I did? Do you want to know?"
Her voice was rising again as she calculated her next move. This was it, the last straw. Fuck him, the cocksucker. I hate you, she thought. She was becoming a madwoman herself and her eyes bugged out of her head, her breath short, husky.
She was overwhelmed with a desire to hurt her father deeply, to punish him verbally, the only way she could strike back at him. A slight smile formed on her lips.
"You know what I did tonight? I took this guy's big, beautiful cock in my mouth," she said, almost spelling the words out for him, spitting them up to him, tormenting, vicious. "And I sucked and sucked and sucked it until he filled my mouth with his hot juicy delicious cum. And you know what I did then? You want to know? I swallowed every last drop of the hot cum. Every single little drop." She licked her lips obscenely, defiantly. "Ummmm, it tasted so fucking good. So fucking good."
"Mary, Mary, don't," Mrs. Johnson pleaded weakly, beginning to sob. It was a living nightmare.
Mary stared directly at her father, who was advancing slowly upon her. He moved as if in a fog. His face was contorted in rage but his eyes belied the excitement welling within his loins. And there was no stopping the young girl.
"And you know what's really funny?" she continued. "What's really funny about it?" She laughed, obviously phony but mocking and taunting him. "It's that you'd just love for me to suck your cock, wouldn't you?" He was almost upon her. "My own father would just love to stick his dick between my wet, luscious lips. Huh? Does that sound good?" Mary made loud, obscene slurping sounds with her mouth. Her face turned red with anger and hatred, her words as cruel as she could make them. "Well, forget it. You filthy, stinking, rotten pervert, I hate you. I hate you!"
Her father grabbed her suddenly around the throat, cutting off her words and pinning her to the wall. She struggled for breath, more furious than scared, but he held her tight.
"SO you like little boy's cocks, huh? You like to suck tiny cocks? Well, then you'll just love to swallow a grown man's giant prick."
Mr. Johnson opened his pants with his free hand and pulled his half-hard cock out, exposing himself to her. She looked straight ahead, ignoring his cock until he forced her head down to look at his throbbing member. Mary gasped when she saw it. Her father's prick was the biggest she had ever seen, and it wasn't even fully erect. God, it looked great, she thought, forgetting herself for a moment. She just couldn't help feeling a twinge of arousal at the sight of such a monstrous cock. But it belonged to her father and she would die before his meat entered any of her orifices.
"Like it, whore? Doesn't it look delicious? Do you want to suck me off?"
Mr. Johnson's questions brought Mary back to the reality of the situation. It was as if he read her mind and she worried that her eyes betrayed the pure sexual excitement that her body felt. If that cock were someone else's Mary would have been on her knees in a second. But not for him.
Mrs. Johnson suddenly came into the picture, running up to her husband and beating him with closed fists on the back. He hardly felt her.
"John! That's our daughter-your own flesh and blood! Let her go ... stop it ... STOP IT!"
He turned and slapped her hard across the face, sending her flying into the couch. He never even loosened his grip on Mary. Mrs. Johnson sunk into the cushions in a ball, whimpering loudly.
Too little, too late, mother, Mary thought and she felt her father's cock rub against her as he turned. She looked down to see a trail of pre-cum on her pants and was horrified at the sight. She began to struggle again with all her might but it was to no avail. Her father was just too strong, he was like a man possessed. And her own overmatched strength was rapidly weakening. She gasped hard for her breaths.
"And now, you little tramp, I'm going to give you a taste of some real cock. But first, let's take a look at those tits you seem to be so proud of."
"NOOO!" Mary screamed weakly, as her father ripped her blouse down the front, exposing her fleshy, cherry-tipped orbs. She started punching him on the face and chest but he didn't even seem to feel the blows. Or, at least he didn't show it. He just stood there kneading her tits. Mary somehow managed to knock his hand away and she hurried to cover her bosom from his lust-filled gaze. She crossed her arms in front of her, an almost comical sense of modesty in the degenerate action that was taking place. Even her father laughed lewdly.
"Maybe you wished you had a bra on now, huh? Father knows best." His dirty smile faded to a menacing sneer. "And now, kneel down, slut and blow me. Show me how well you suck cock. And it better be good."
He forced his daughter onto her knees in front of him, holding her there with both hands. His cock rubbed across her face but she refused to open her mouth. Long strings of pre-ejaculate stuck to her cheeks, nose and lips, burning her in humiliation and hatred.
"Open your mouth, bitch! Open it!"
He slapped her face hard and her mouth opened to cry in pain, just as he had anticipated. He pushed quickly inside her, forcing his rock-hard dong between her lips and teeth, banging into the entrance to her throat. She gagged, expelling a rush of trapped air through her nostrils and across his abdomen. Mary's mouth was stuffed to the limit and her lips weren't even near the base of his cock. He held her steadfastly to his groin.
"Ummmm, that feels good, baby. Your mouth is so fucking wet and hot."
Mr. Johnson looked down at his daughter's pretty face, her cheeks bloated with his penis, her lips stretched wide, tight to his fleshy bone. God, he had waited for this moment for a long time. He had lusted after his offspring for so long ... so long. And now she was kneeling in front of him, her mouth crammed with cock. He moved one hand to stroke her long blonde hair, almost tenderly. What a contrast to his sniveling, mousy, homely wife! He was in heaven.
"Now suck me, suck my cock, I want to come in your pretty mouth."
Mary was overcome with feelings of fear, disgust, hatred and excitement. Her mind was filled with mixed emotions. She even felt pity for the man who was forcing this incestuous perversion. But her strongest emotion was hatred, hatred of the man who sired her, who beat her and her mother whenever the desire possessed him, who now stood before her with his prick in her mouth.
"Suck me off!" Her father demanded, beginning to move her head back and forth on his penis, letting it slide easily between her sloppy lips. She grunted noisily and started sucking his rod with vigor. Mr. Johnson was pleased by her actions, and a little surprised that her compliance came so quickly. Nevertheless, he took his hands from her and let her do the work. She held his cock with her lips and swirled her tongue over the smooth flesh.
"Ohhh, that's better, baby. It feels so good." And then he screamed in agony as Mary bit down with all her might on his hard meat. He jumped in the air, ripping his dick from the vise-like grip of her sharp teeth, tearing the flesh. Blood already flowed from the wound as he gripped it in his hands, squeezing his cock to try and ease the pain. His face was white, full of shock and horror. His knees buckled out from under him and he fell to the floor, almost passing out.
In a flash Mary was on her feet and rushing for the door. She grabbed a sweater hanging on the hook and snatched a twenty-dollar bill from the end table. She was at the doorway before her father even really realized what had happened. His mind was fogged in pain and his thinking slow.
"Come back here," he screamed. "COME BACK HERE!" He crawled towards her slowly, unable to get to his feet. His body was wracked with pain, his cock still in the comforting enclosure of his clasped hands.
Mary paused at the door, sure now of her escape. Her father moved to her but he was incapable of rapid movement. She had to admit that it felt good seeing him like that.
"I hate you, you fucking bastard!" she screamed.
"Mary ... Mary...." her mother moaned from the sofa, her head still buried in her arms, her voice cracked, crying.
Mary looked to her with pity. "And you make me sick ... BOTH OF YOU!"
"Co-come bac-back," her father stammered as Mary slammed the door on them forever.
She rushed out of the building, taking the stairs two at a time, oblivious of the stares of her neighbors. Out on the street, she finally realized that her tits were completely exposed and she hurried to don her sweater. Two boys sitting on the steps had seen her naked tits and they moved toward her while she dressed.
"Hey, baby, don't hide 'em. They look pretty cute," one of the boys said.
She turned and the fury in her eyes stopped them dead in their tracks.
"FUCK YOU," she spat at them and took off down the street, quickly, but without conscious direction. Her mouth tasted of blood, pre-cum and cock. She wiped a drop of blood from her lips and a couple of streams of jism from her cheeks. She spit on the sidewalk, trying to cleanse herself, hoping to erase the memories so recently received. But it couldn't be done. And she spat and spat and spat. And she walked and walked for what seemed like days.
In truth, after two hours of mindless wandering, Mary found herself in front of Carol's house, her best friend. Maybe, in a way, she wished it was Tommy's house, but she knew that would be fruitless. He had made it clear that he wouldn't throw his future away on her and she really didn't want him to. She was just a little more optimistic than he was, or a little more desperate. And tonight was the end. It was probably better this way anyway. She could stay with Carol and her parents for a few days until she figured out what she was going to do. She knew she would never go home again. Ever.
She walked up to the door and rang the bell of the Fuller home. She waited, hoping that Carol answered the door and not her parents. She wouldn't really know what to say to the Fullers and she wasn't sure that she looked all that hot.
The door swung open and her best friend stood in the doorway, her eyes expressing pleasant surprise.
"Mary, what are you doing here?"
"Well, I ... I...." Her voice trailed away. "Come in, come on inside." She did and Carol hugged her warmly.