Face (Sex, Power, Love)

Eric and Gina: High School

And so the love affair of Gina and Eric took another twisted step. Yes, it was a love affair, not a sweet romance, but as close to love as either of them could manage. Although their relationship was as unequal as possible, in a warped way they were perfect compliments, like a fist in a tight leather glove.

As children, Gina and Eric were both self absorbed, sensual loners. Proto-lust plumed into their young minds even as preadolescents. Darkly dyed, amorphous dreams of perverse erotic arousal and vague, primal images of sexual power haunted their nights. However, morning’s cleansing amnesia always mislaid these visions of the dreamtime, leaving and only the slightest haze of anxious longing clouding their sunny days. Neither child connected in any meaningful way with others. At adolescence each discovered, and reveled, in the power their beauty bestowed over others.

Eric got laid early and often. Gina was a more distant loner, satisfied to use her peers in her imagination; she masturbated constantly. She knew all the boys wanted her, and this delighted her, but she kept her distance. Gina was intensely shy, anxious, and adverse to human contact. But within her isolated private world, her perfect world of daydreams where she was queen of all she surveyed, Gina was entirely self-confident. There she found uses for her cohorts. She had never really played with the other kids or even with dolls like the other girls, but in her own weird way played with the boys, the living breathing boy dollies. Teasing the pitiable boys, especially as they became hormone-addled adolescents, was oh so easy.

For amusement, Gina would draw a boy close with a sly flirt, and then, when the boy got the courage to come to her call, reject him with a hurtful rebuff. The boys always came when the exotic teen beauty beckoned, and then fled in wounded retreat. In her bed, Gina would obsess upon the would-be-suitors lusting for her body, and revel in their bewildered hurt as she struck them down one by one. For Gina it was gratification enough that the boys wanted her. Their stumbling adolescent approaches, awkward blushing retreats, and embarrassed tongue-tied confusion were fine entertainment.

Alone before sleep took her, Gina’s triumphs over the boys and the memory of their pained flight ignited her erotic flame. But once lit, Gina’s inescapable anxiety stoked an ever smoldering ember deep within. Fidgeting on the dampening sheets the passionate girl’s fingers, and her nebulous guilt, kindled the dark fire in her loins. The flame quickly consumed the haughty girl’s flimsy conceit and flared to a burning yearning for sexual degradation, submission, and sacrifice on a pyre of depravity. Gina dreamed of debasing herself for the boys, one, then two, then more. She yearned to be a slut taken by all at once. The conflagration raged and swept her away until the inferno burst in a culminating of flash of passion to be incessantly despoiled.

Lying in the steaming wreckage of her masturbatory reverie, the besotted girl knew she must hide her wanton degeneracy, hide her true nature from the world. She was a pervert; she was weird.

Still the weak boys kept coming to her beauty, and Gina knew she could make them do her bidding as she stood off at a safe distance. Gina contented herself with solo sex and a solitary life where imaginary lovers preformed their contradictory roles perfectly, exactly as directed, and no real person got close. And all the while, the real living breathing dollies danced safely away to Gina’s tune.

But Gina understood the inherent emptiness of the dream world she had created for herself, so just once she made an attempt at something real. At the start of her high school freshman year, she accepted an invitation to see a movie with one particularly persistent guy. He was an upper classman and one of the guys that all the other girls wanted. In fact, he supposedly belonged to the only other girl at school who was even half as pretty as Gina was.

It was a weird date. Gina didn’t talk at all and the boy quickly ran out of awkward small talk. After the movie, the guy asked Gina to come to his house because his parents were gone. Gina simply nodded yes. They walked into the empty house and he immediately tried to kiss her. Although the kissing was a lot easier than talking for Gina, she was put off by the real touch of an actual person. But she didn’t panic. Gina didn’t get the social part of being human, but she understood lust. She pushed the burning boy dolly away and started unbuttoning his shirt. Then she completely unbuttoned her blouse and reached in to touch her breasts. She gestured for him to take off more. He got it, he obeyed, and he striped for Gina. For each thing he took off, Gina rewarded him by taking off something herself. The man-child and the silent beauty stood across from each other slowly, silently undressing, and never touching.

The boy happily played Gina’s game, and soon they were naked. He had kept away from Gina while the stripping went on, but with no more clothes to play with, and with a real live naked girl, a wonderfully beautiful girl, alone there for him, he reached out to realize every boy’s fantasy. Gina pushed him back. She knew how to put him off, how continue the game. Gina put a finger to her mouth to command silence. She sat down, reached between her legs, and began to masturbate. She smiled approval at the boy standing at attention naked before her. She stared at his rock hard erection and wordlessly directed the boy to touch it. He was her obedient dolly; he grabbed his cock, and joined in. In an instant, he erupted. Embarrassment and sperm flew at Gina across the electrified space separating the restrained lovers.

The boy imagined that Gina had laughed at him. He thought she was laughing at his adolescent failure to control himself, and he blushed with shame. But Gina hadn’t laughed; Gina never laughed. She had actually just smiled in childlike delight at the sight of the ropes of come flying out, floating up toward her, and then falling short, each spurt shorter, falling into diminishing puddles on the floor at her feet.

Gina hadn’t imagined that she had humiliated the boy. In her dream story, she was the one debased. She had stripped for the boy, she had posed naked, she had flaunted her nasty cunt obscenely climaxing from filthy fantasies, and she had paraded the perverted spectacle of her odd, creepy desires. Gina was the whore, the weird reject.

Gina dressed and fled without a word. She didn’t let him see her cry. For years, she rebuffed any further attempt by this or any other boy to approach that close again.

A thousand miles away from Gina, Eric didn’t reject any of the dollies. At least not until he had fucked them or had gotten his dick sucked. The girls all wanted him because he was reputed to be the best looking guy in school, because unlike the other boys he was self-assured, even cocky, and because he seemed to be a rebel who needed love. Each girl imagined the love of a good woman—that would be the love soaking in her own young pussy—could tame this wild young stallion. Mostly, all the girls wanted Eric because all the other girls wanted Eric. He accepted all of this love—and to Eric love meant precisely that stuff soaking in all of those eager young pussies. Eric took all the girls he could handle; he swam in pools of juicy, adolescent love.

With the pretty, popular girls, Eric played to romantic teenage fantasies, lied about love eternal, got laid, and left the girl crying when she eventually found out he was also fucking her best friend. There were five pretty cheerleaders at the school. Eric planned to do them one by one just to prove that he could do it. The first four were easy. The last one was Tiffany, a classic Miss America type, and a prissy tease. She held Eric off for years.

Eric might not have been able to get to her, but then Tiffany broke up with her long time steady because he kept whining for more than just making out and finger fucking. Tiffany thought it was funny leaving him stranded on third base. She decided to teach her boyfriend a lesson. He’d be sorry. She knew how to hurt him, jealousy. That boy would come crawling back and treat her the way she deserved, treat her with due respect. He was lucky to have such pretty, popular girl friend. Yeah he’d be sorry. She’d hang with Eric. After all, Eric was the guy all the girls wanted. He’d hooked up with each of the other cheerleaders, the best-looking trophy-girls in the school. That would drive her x crazy.

At first, Eric was a perfect gentleman; he barely touched her. Then Tiffany got Eric to make out. She loved it; Eric was a great kisser. Tiffany got hot and she slipped off her panties. She put Eric’s hand down on her pussy exactly as she had always done with her x. Tiffany told herself, “That bastard will be sorry; he is home playing with himself and I’ve got a new better boyfriend doing it just the way I want. I can get love on my terms with anyone. Hey, face it; I’m movie star gorgeous. Any boy would do my bidding. I can even make Eric do anything I want.” Eric gently messaged Tiffany’s tiny little clit.

Then Eric drove two fingers deep into her cunt and squeezed. Tiffany gasped in pleasure and sudden fear. This was not the gentle, obsequious petting of her fawning, timid x. Wide eyed, she looked up at Eric kneeling over her. Eric lifted Tiffany’s legs as he firmly kneaded her cunt with detached, methodical proficiency. Tiffany lay with her legs doubled back held firmly together in place over her chest by Eric’s left hand while his right hand worked her pussy. Tiffany’s skirt splayed open like the petals of a flower encircling her naked crotch thrust up above the inward curve of her back.

“Open your blouse. Let me see your tits.” Tiffany half-heartedly started to protest, but quickly capitulated as the pussy kneading became more intense. She felt like a rag doll in Eric’s hands. Control had slipped away to this boy she hardly knew. Tiffany could barely control her breathing as Eric wrung sex sweat from her, and she could not, would not resist. Tiffany guardedly opened her blouse and unhooked her bra, exposing her pert b-cups. She clung to a half-hearted hope that the sway of her beautiful young body would restore the balance of power. Her nipples were engorged, and her pale breasts flushed pink.

“Nice tits Tiffany, but Dawn’s are bigger. You’ve got great legs. All that cheerleading practice makes them strong. But Shannon’s legs are longer. Still, a very nice package. Grab your ankles and spread your legs apart. Come on; don’t mess up the moment with that prissy chicken shit stuff. The other girls told me not to bother with you because you were just a chicken shit tease. You’re not like that are you? That’s better you look great.”

Tiffany was horrified, terrified, but she could moan only the faintest protest. She was on the brink of an orgasm more powerful than she had imagined possible. Tiffany was totally adrift, lost in an unfamiliar mysterious storm, and endanger of drowning. She grabbed her ankles, spread open her legs, and surrendered to the ecstatic, defiling thrill of submission.

Eric knelt between her legs. Still kneading Tiffany’s cunt, he pulled out his dick. Barely audibly Tiffany gasped, “No, please no.”

“Sure babe, no means no. I won’t do anything you don’t want. Just relax. The other girls all said you would chicken out. They said you brag about how you make your guy finger fuck you, but won’t give him anything more. Then you joke about his begging. You’re no virgin. Did he bust you with his hand, or did somebody else do you while he was home alone whacking off?

“Take a good look at my cock. It’s a lot bigger than a finger isn’t it? Imagine how deep this would go. See how thick it is. Imagine how that would feel. The other girls all loved it. Did you know that they laugh at you behind your back because you are such a goody goody, such a teacher’s pet? They say you’re a stuck up, tight ass bitch. But I told them I didn’t believe it; I told them I think you’re hot. You’re not a gutless tease like the other cheerleaders say; are you? I think you’re better than that. Look at my cock. Are you sure you don’t want it?”

Tiffany was gasping on the edge of an overwhelming climax. Tears filled her eyes from the insults and betrayals of her friends, and from the humiliation of exposing her body, her uncontrollable lust, and her need for this heartless stud. But pure rapturous pleasure swept her away. Tiffany tugged on her ankles, spread her thighs wider, and strained to open her wet, pink slit. She looked down between her obscenely spread legs and stared at Eric’s erection. Her cunt oozed on Eric’s hand.

She recalled coming on the hand of her joke of a boyfriend as he whined for sex. (No way, don’t be such a pig.) She would permit the desperate boy pull his cock out and show it to her. (Ok, let me look at it.) Tiffany then made him to wrap his hand around his cock while she examined it closely. (Such a fuss over that ugly thing?) Tiffany not did let on how her boy’s cock turned her on almost as much as his begging. (Ok, play with if you have to; just don’t ask me to touch that thing). The humble cock oozed, and then shriveled. (Good, had enough?) Tiffany came as the shamed boy withered.

This was different. Eric’s cock was so big, no angry, no commanding—no it was a beacon drawing Tiffany’s heart down toward its deepest desires. She was lost. Oh, how she wanted that mastering phallus, there was no way back to dignity. Finger fuck or cock, it did not matter; she had lost control. Pride and propriety were vanquished. Eric’s insistent fingers and his iron grip on her cunt drove her to distraction. Tiffany’s sopping pussy hijacked her voice and pleaded, “Please. Please do it. Please do me.”

“Please what? Tell me exactly what you want. We don’t want any misunderstandings.”

“Oh, please don’t be so mean. Please, put that thing in me. Do me. Please, put that cock inside of me. Please fuck me. Fuck…meee.” Tiffany could barely speak.

“You are not going to get knocked up are you? Let me put this condom on.”

“Fuck me. Fuck me. Please fuck me. Plee…” Tiffany pulled harder on her ankles, stretched her legs, and pushed the gutter of her cunt at Eric. The simpering girl’s incoherent begging melted to a bubbly guttural gargle. When Eric removed his hand and drove his cock into the boiling girl, Tiffany pissed all over herself.

Tiffany was a noisy fuck, moaning and screaming when she came. She didn’t let go of her ankles until Eric emptied his condom on her blushing budding breasts and rubbed the thick, copious semen all over her heaving chest.

Tiffany and Eric did not hook up again. When they met at school, Eric would softly smile, and Tiffany, startled and speechless, would blush and fade away, embarrassed and hurt, again betrayed by the flush of passion rising in her loins. She knew Eric had told all the other girls all about what he had done to her. She could not even lie to cover up her disgrace. Tiffany tried to deny Eric’s story. She tried to lie, but she burst into tears recalling her degrading surrender and realizing how humiliation, more than anything, had driven her to the most powerful climax she had ever known. The other cheerleaders just laughed at the misery of their stuck-up friend; Eric had given her just what she deserved. Tiffany went back to her old boyfriend. All was forgiven, and things were different, better. Tiffany fucked his brains out and then begged him for more.

And so Eric won the campaign of the cheerleaders. With the less popular, less attractive girls, Eric was less conniving and less patient. He was direct and honest, brutally honest. He would tell them immediately what he wanted and that he had no intention to be true; take it or leave it, he didn’t care. Eric would let them suck his dick, lucky them. Most of these girls were startled and grateful that Eric, the beautiful Eric, had even spoken to them. He usually used girls like this only once; a blowjob, a “nice job babe”, and then Eric would hardly speak to the girl again. Some were resentful; most were grateful. But there were a lucky few who, though not pretty, gave good head and were otherwise useful. These were his back up girls, and he swore them to silence while he hunted better quality prey.

His favorite was Veronica, a smart, lovely, but fat girl who would do anything for Eric. Eric secretly made Veronica his steady girl—sort of. He still fucked anyone else he wanted, but he kept Veronica around. Veronica had a pudgy but pretty face, thick heavy thighs, and a high, huge ass. None of the other boys would admit being attracted to her, or dare too be socially connected with Veronica because she was so obviously fat. Still, she had her particular sexual assets. She had a well-defined waist and enormous tits. Her tits and her ass were the butt of many cruel jokes, but more than one boy secretly beat off dreaming of those giant boobs.

Eric was the one boy who would admit that Veronica had her charms. He was fascinated with her pendulous breasts. Eric dropped by Veronica’s home when the place was empty and told her to take off her blouse and bra. Veronica obeyed without question; her breasts dropped to her waist. Then she dropped to her knees and she sucked.

At each opportunity to use Veronica, Eric pushed it further. Next time he ordered her to crawl to him. Veronica loved pleasing Eric; her tits swung against the floor with each animal pace to his cock. Eric usually didn’t have the imagination to engage in kinky sex, but he loved playing with Veronica’s boobs and once he tied them up. Eric wrapped ropes around and around, squeezing and lifting the giant melons until they seemed ready to pop. Then Veronica went down on him. After he came, Eric saw that Veronica was crying. He thought it was the pain of the ropes, though actually it was the pain, and joy, of the degradation. Eric didn’t tie Veronica up again; the crying jag had alarmed him.

Veronica loved Eric. He was the only boy who paid any attention to her, however cruel that attention. But Veronica was smart. She never mentioned love or let on how much she cared for Eric. She instinctively knew Eric was averse to affection and that he would dump her if she got emotional or if she let anyone know how much time Eric spent with her, Veronica, the fat joke of a girl.

Eric used Veronica throughout high school. She was his secret ally and conspirator. Veronica provided Eric with useful information and strategies in assistance of his seduction of prettier girls. She and Eric laughed at each success, and then plotted the next conquest. Veronica was a sharp observer of the social order of the school, and she clued Eric in on trends, gossip, and the pecking order. Veronica served Eric however she could; she advised him on how to dress, she gave him spending money, and she did his homework. As thanks, once in while Eric let her suck his dick.

Eric was never nice to Veronica, but his cruelty was not deliberate. He just didn’t have a clue he was hurting her or that Veronica was crying her eyes out over him at night. Eric praised Veronica’s blowjobs, but told her she was just too fat to fuck. And this girl was Eric’s best friend, only real friend. It never occurred to Eric that the hurt he caused others was real hurt to real people. If an authority figure had paid any attention to Eric’s life, shrinks would have been called in. But shrinks were not called; Eric’s emotional distance and sociopathic behavior just didn’t stand out in the crowd of adolescent boys. Besides, all of his homework got done.

On the other hand, everyone thought Gina was weird. Her parents did call in shrinks, but Gina would not cooperate. The chatty social circles and romantic fantasies of the other teenage girls were lost on her. She was a strange child, lost in her daydreams. Gina spent hours alone drawing and painting. She hid in the solitary realm of art.

Gina was frightened of the world, and the world was frightened of her. While the other kids ran, played and laughed, Gina hid on the sidelines. No one ever noticed that Gina never laughed, she tried sometimes, but she just could not laugh.

As adolescence dawned, Gina’s sexual fantasies found their way into her art. Gina dreamed of a primordial world dominated by sexual rituals, sacrifices and slavery. She was compelled draw these images. Gina created, and immediately destroyed, page after page of lewd drawings, then canvas after canvas of obscene scenes of torture and gang rape. When questions arose as to what had happened to all that paint and canvas, Gina resorted to cryptic cubism to camouflage the appalling pornography of her imagery from the uncomprehending admirers of her art.

Gina bloomed into a spectacularly beautiful teenager. Gina was strangely dark, both physically and emotionally. In a Mid-American culture that valued conformity above all, Gina’s unusual beauty and odd ways unsettled everyone—teachers, parents, and her cohorts. They put Gina in the only box that seemed to fit—would be beatnik artist. The eccentrically retro beatnik girl was the butt of many jokes. That way Gina’s cohorts diminished her into something less disturbing.

Still, Gina was gorgeous and boys constantly lurked about her solitary world. All the boys wanted Gina, but unlike Eric, Gina kept her distance. She used their images in her private masturbation fantasies, and in her art, but she was too awkward and remote to involve herself in the mystifying dance of teenage mating. Also, unlike most girls, she didn’t care about the social order of the world, and she didn’t need a boyfriend.

That was not to say she didn’t want boys, or boy dollies for her daydreams. Her sex fantasies were filled with them—two, three and more at a time. Gina was a very bright girl, and she was in all the advanced classes. She knew her private world would be considered perverted, and so she kept her distance from the other boys and girls. Even so, the horny teenage boys kept taking the bait. Gina would always say no, and then go home and masturbate thinking of the boy. After she had rejected all the boys bold enough to approach, Gina resorted to a game of coy flirting to tempt renewed advances. Gina enjoyed playing with her prey. She lured a boy close, and then just at the right moment, she cut him off with a mocking rebuke. She focused on the retreating boy’s hurt and confusion in her masturbatory reveries.

But Gina’s solitary fantasy world was ultimately empty; she needed to engage the actual world. Gina decided to enter college early and leave her tedious high school world behind, never looking back. So at last, the time was right to take a chance and avoid facing consequences. Gina took the leap and grabbed she what wanted, a young leather clad motorcycle gang, all of them.

Gina knew where to find them, hanging out on their regular corner wasting time. She knew how to hook them, just walk by in a tight sweater and jeans. She also knew how to get them to do what she wanted. Gina walked past the four young hoods as if they were not there. Then she looked over her shoulder. Bracing herself against the necessity of social contact, Gina spoke her lines from the drama she had concocted, “What are you looking at?” Gina knew they would be looking at her ass, and of course, they were.

Their leader did his best Marlon Brando impersonation, “Just enjoying the view.”

Gina turned and smiled, “I think I like the view too. You’re kind of cute.” The leader puffed up with the pride of conquest, and cast a superior glance at his buddies. The four of them loved empty bragging about what they would do to all the hot girls. Gina, with her tight ass and pretty face, was one of their top fantasy girls. She’d always seemed utterly unattainable, and so all the better to leer at and boast about doing this or that to her. Now that this pretty preppy actually spoke to them, they didn’t know what to do. Gina ambled up to the leader and with faux coquetry said, “Yeah, you’re cute but,” turning to the boy next to him, “he’s cute too. I like these leather jackets; I like the way they smell. You’re all cute. Is there someplace more private were we can go to get to know each other better?”

“Sure we’ve got a place. You want to come to our meeting place?” Then the leader described an old shed a few miles out of town where the boys met and worked on their bikes. Gina smiled and said, “That sounds great. See you guys in an hour.” All grins, they mounted their bikes and roared away.

Gina was thrilled, but frightened. It was one thing to fantasize about gang banging motorcycle thugs, but to actually meet four guys alone in an isolated, abandoned machine shed? That was scary. On the other hand, what was the worst that could happen? Well, gang rape, but that was just what Gina wanted.

Gina went home and dithered about what to wear and whether to go. After an hour, she realized she was leaving the guys waiting. “Fuck it. I’m going, and I’m going to turn those punks on. Screw this town, screw my preppy classmates, and screw what anybody thinks. I’m leaving this shit town for college and never coming back. I’m going to live my dreams.” Gina dug into a hiding place in the back of her closet, pulled out some things she had secretly bought over the internet, things she had only worn in the privacy of her bedroom, things that turned her on. Gina became the thing she wanted to be. She squeezed into a miniskirt, patent leather heels, and a short elastic tank top that highlighted her flat tummy and cute belly button. She looked in the mirror and said, “This’ll turn them on.”

Just as the gang had given up on her, Gina arrived at the hideout. The boys were swearing about what a cunt she was for lying to them when they saw a car heading up the gravel road. They recognized it was Gina as she pulled onto the dirt driveway trailed by a cloud of dust. The boys had been drinking, they were a little high, and they were about to take off on their bikes. It was just the stupid kind of thing dumb punks do. Get a little drunk, and then go riding a motorcycle.

“I thought you stiffed us,” the leader said.

“Not at all. I just wanted to look nice for you guys. What do you think?” Getting out of her car Gina stumbled as her heel turned on the rough dirt path to the shed. Gina blushed, righted herself, and guardedly sauntered past the boys leaning on their bikes outside of the shed. The four boys stared lustfully at Gina’s long legs, bare to the bottom of the skimpy mini skirt wrapped tightly around in her perfect ass. Gina’s heels wobbled on the uneven dirt. “What kind of place do you have here?” Gina ducked the through the door of the shambling old shack.

The old machine shed stood abandoned in a state of slow collapse in a field just off a neglected side road. The nearest house was half a mile away. The boys had been meeting here for years and the neighbors left them alone. The door creaked and Gina stepped out of the bright sun and into the dark, dusty interior.

Gina inhaled the cool musty air and tasted the unfamiliar vapors of gasoline, motor oil, and mold. Light filtered in through cracks in the dried-up siding. There was a bench along one wall strewn with motorcycle parts, tools, a disassembled carburetor, and cans filled with bolts. A winch hung from a reinforced rafter. A half torn apart motorcycle leaned against the far wall. Gina’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. She squinted into the dim space and made out a girly calendar nailed to the boards above the bike. A huge breasted whore leaning on a shiny motorcycle, leered out into the gloom, and pitched spare parts. 

The boys followed Gina out of the hot sunshine. Gina’s heart thumped and her throat dried as she counted the silhouettes entering through the shinning doorway into the murky space within. Gina could just make out their faces in the shade of the shed. “Here have a beer.” The leader tossed Gina a cold can of beer. Gina caught it awkwardly, smiled, popped it open, and took a long draw. Gina was not a drinker, but the tingling slide of the bitter brew soothed her dry throat and slacked her anxiety. The macho ritual of slugging down a brew like one of the boys delighted Gina.

“So, tell us; why did this pretty little peppy come out here to see us losers.”

“Because I like the way you guys look in those leather jackets. And I like your tight little asses.” Gina walked up the leader and touched his jacket, and then she turned and touched each of the other boys. Gina was dangerously, comically provocative. Everyone in the dark little world inside the shed struggled to conceal their youth and naivety.

“But I didn’t come here for conversation. This is what I want.” Gina dropped to her knees into the dirt floor in front of the leader. She reached up, unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. It was rock hard. Gina leaned forward and breathed in her first scent of real cock. She knew it would smell just like this. Gina was thrilled this was not a dream, not just more lonely imagining while she rubbed her pussy raw. This was what she wanted. This was real.

Gina opened her mouth, took the cock head between her lips, and ran her tongue across it. She licked the oozing precome. It tasted just like she had imagined. Gina eagerly sucked the cock deep into the back of her mouth, and then pulled back, choking. Gina’s eyes watered, but she took a breath, opened wide, and again took the cock to the back of her mouth. Gina and sucked hard and pulled back until cock slid out of her mouth with a wet pop. Gina looked up into the boy’s face, and realized with pride that she was a natural born cocksucker. The touch, the taste, and the emotional spectacle were exactly as she dreamed.

“Now you,” Gina struggled to emit even whisper as she grabbed the crotch of another boy. Gina didn’t bother to pull his cock out; she sunk her teeth into the rock hard bulge in the boy’s jeans. Gina heard a zipper go down. On her knees, Gina turned dazed as if a wind-up toy, eyes glazed, mouth hanging open with a dopey gawk. A third boy had pulled out his enormous cock. It hung in his hand, thick, heavy and only partially erect. Gina opened wide and slid the monster between her lips, over her teeth and onto her tongue. The cock was growing, hardening, filling Gina’s mouth. Gina sucked in a breath through her nose, fearful she might suffocate. Just as she caught her breath the boy grabbed the back of her head and trust forward, jamming his cock against the back of Gina’s throat. Gina gagged. The giant cock pried her face open. Gina’s jaw ached; her mouth was stuffed; she couldn’t breathe. The boy thrust forward again. Nearly fainting Gina tumbled backward into the dirt. The boy laughed. The leader knelt down beside Gina and softly asked, “Are you ok?”

Gina looked into his eyes. She was frightened, but more turned on than she had ever been. “Yeah, I guess I’m ok. It was just so big. Please don’t stop. This is what I came for. I like you best; you’re nice. Please, will you do me first?”

The leader knelt between Gina’s wide spread knees. Her mini skirt rode up to her waist. Gina pulled off her panties. He lifted one of Gina’s legs to raise her pussy up out of the dirt, and placed his cock at the mouth of her cunt.

This was it. This was not a daydream. After all that playing with herself Gina was going to get the real thing. Thrust—and he was in. Thrust—but the way was barred. Gina gasped. The pain, the panic, the joy, all of it blurred in a dizzying spin. Gina moaned, gritted her teeth, and clamped her eyes shut to stop her tears. Thrust—the leader paused.

“Are you a virgin? Are you Ok? Do you want me to stop?”

Gina’s explorations of the geography her body and the watery depths of her sexual soul had paused at this gate. The first time it was timidity. Gina looked it up on the internet. Hymen, virgin, sacrifice—Gina resolved that she would save herself to be offered upon the altar of her own choice—and now all was ready. Gina admired the dust floating in the shafts of light shinning though the weathered planks of the shed. Gina gazed up at the shadowy silhouettes of the bikers arrayed about her like statues, the pillars of her temple. It was now. 

“Yes, I mean no, I mean don’t stop.” Gina sucked breath through her teeth. “Just please go slow. I want it. Oh, I want it. Be gentle for a moment, but don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

And so slowly and gently, the young gang leader eased in and out. He looked down into Gina’s eyes, “Is this better. You are so very pretty. Just tell me if it is too much.”

“No, no I want it. Thank you, thank you. But yeah, it is my first time. It’s good.” Gina smiled up through her tears. Her pretty face was streaked with dirt. She rocked her hips to the leader’s motion, and slowly the pace increased. Gina pressed into the pain. The lovely boy, the leader, was sweating and panting as insistently as Gina. Gina knew he needed her, wanted her, but tremulous civility barricaded the passage to their dreams. Gina pulled the boy’s face to the nape of her neck, seized his loins with her legs, and pressed hopefully into the pain. Gina thrust; she lunged into his lions, into her hopes and the gate broke open. A blast of pain and joy blew through her and it all became real. Up from the deep dreams, the subterranean abstractions, an ancient artesian urge sprang into the now.

Gina became her animal self and thinking evaporated. His strokes grew longer, harder; he led again. Gina followed. And then the boy collapsed into her. The only thing left was the vital insistence to be, animating the instincts in the sinews of their loins. With a trembling grind, pressed tight, the leader spilled jet after jet deep into Gina.

The two lay still, entwined in silent joy for the briefest of moments on the earthen alter.

“My turn.” The second boy grabbed the leader by his leather jacket and pulled him out of Gina. Nothing was going to stop him, certainly not a little blood and dirt, and certainly not tender concern for the feelings of sweet young Gina lying beneath him in the dirt. He too had fantasies to fulfill, and he was going to get what he wanted. He drove into Gina, simple minded and brutal. Panic stampeded through Gina’s head, but she barely got out a gasp and the boy came, spurting on just his second thrust. With a grunt, the boy rose up, zipped his pants and stepped back, confused.

A third boy knelt at Gina cunt, now slick and overflowing with semen. The boy slid in easily. Lust raged through Gina. It was easier now; this was what Gina wanted, more boy, more cock, more big hard cock. After all those dreams, all that solitary fingering herself, this was real, and Gina sensed she would come harder than she had dreamed possible. Gina bit her lip. It tasted of sweat and mud. The boy was driving hard into her. Gina felt the cock deep inside, banging the back of her tunnel, slapping her cervix. It was coming. More come juice was pouring in. It was now; now, and Gina erupted, driving her hips into the boy. With a spasm, an orgasm, nearly a seizure, Gina’s dreams materialized in the risky tumble of actuality.

Gina lay back on the dirt floor exhausted. For a moment, the shed was quiet, except for the heavy breathing of the young leather gang. A beer can popped open. “What a fucking mess.” Gina propped herself up on her elbows and looked down. She was covered with dirt. Her legs were splayed open and her thighs were smeared with mud, blood and semen. Gina looked up. The last boy, the one with the huge cock, stood between her legs, holding his gigantic semi-rigid dick in one hand and a beer in the other. “Sloppy fourths I guess. Lucky me. Let’s clean this up a bit.” He turned the can over and poured beer over Gina’s crotch, washing away a bit of the dirt and blood. “Turn over. Get on your knees. You’re not much to look at anymore. Let me see that pretty ass of yours. That’s better. Spread those knees apart.”

Gina turned over, knelt on all fours and arched her back to show off the lovely curve of her narrow waist and luscious ass. Gina knew this was her sexiest quality, and she wanted to please. Gina looked over her shoulder at the boy with the big cock. He was the biggest of the leather gang, not pretty, but powerfully built. He threw the beer can over his shoulder and took off his leather jacket. His shoulders bulged out of the cutoff arms of his sweatshirt; he held his thick cock in his fist.

“Hold this. I don’t want it to get dirty.” He handed his jacket to one of the other boys, dropped his pants to his knees and knelt behind Gina. Gina dropped her shoulders, closed her eyes and lowered her face onto the backs of her hands clutching the dirt. Gina spread her knees wide, lifted her ass as high as she could, and offered herself up to the brute with the giant cock. He pressed his cock against Gina’s dripping pussy lips and thrust. Her lips splayed apart, but Gina’s young cunt resisted; the cock wouldn’t fit. Gina cried out, “No, it hurts. Please stop.”

“Fuck you bitch. I ain’t stopping for nothing. It’s my turn; so just shut the fuck up.” His cock was finally fully engorged, he shoved hard, and the thick piece of meat oozed into Gina tender vagina.

“Oh god it’s too big, I can’t…you will tear me apart, please.” Gasping Gina pleaded, but the boy just pressed on and the cock slowly squeezed deep into Gina. He began thrusting and Gina’s cunt rode back and forth, up and down, stuck half way on the thick hunk of cock. The fit was too tight to slide despite the slippery come filling Gina from three horny young studs. The boy drove harder. Despite her terror, Gina concentrated on relaxing to open herself as best she could to accommodate its girth. Slowly the cock plunged deeper until at three quarters of its length the monster struck the bottom of Gina’s hole. Now it slid at little. The cock banged deep inside, and Gina’s ass rocked up and down.

“That’s better. Take it, do I have a load for you. Now eat dirt you stuck up bitch.” The boy leaned forward, placed his hand on the back of Gina’s head and, laughing, shoved her face into the dirt. Gina could barely breathe. She spit out mud and grit. The boy banged harder and faster. Then he came. Gina felt herself filling. The giant cock jammed deep inside unloaded what seemed gallons of come.

Gina collapsed whimpering into the dirt and the monstrous cock slid out of her overflowing cunt. The brute child looked down on the wad of sobbing girl at his knees. He cursed the world that by mere neglect had ground him into something too stupid to name the emotions contending for his mind. He rose from the dirt. His knees weakened when, like a solitary wisp of a cloud, a word detached from context or meaning blew across the empty sky of his mind. Contrition.

He cursed his world, “It won’t let me have no fun.”

Wavering bravado snorted loudly, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Three of the boys quickly left the shed. One by one, their cycles roared to a start, wheels spun, and dirt spat against the wall of the old shed. The boys took off. These guys were not reflective types, but each ran from the scene in silent guilt. They had always bragged about what tough guys they were and about using girls and tossing them away, but now each was haunted by weak willed regret. Each hid their fearful remorse from their comrades, cocooned in the vibrating roar of the cycles pulsing under them. Confused, conflicted and silent, they fled.

Gina lay curled up, face down, hugging the dirt floor. The leader knelt over Gina and softly touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I guess we lost it. That was too much. Can I help you?”

Gina turned and sat up. “No, no. I’ll be ok. I asked for it. Actually, it was what I thought I wanted. It’s just that it was more than I thought it would be. I wanted it to be real but…” Gina broke off sobbing.

“I’m sorry. What can I do?” The leader took Gina’s hand.

“It hurts. I didn’t expect that. But it was good too. And you, you were great. You are so nice. Thanks. I guess you think I’m such a whore.” Gina broke off crying again.

“Oh no, you are great. It’s us. I can’t believe we did that to you. You are such a pretty girl, and brave. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Please. Didn’t you like it? Please tell me that you liked it. I liked it, especially I liked you.” Gina sobbed and pleaded. She grabbed the boy’s hand and looked into his brown eyes. Her heart was breaking for this beautiful boy.

“Yeah, I liked it. It was probably way too much, but I liked it. You are such a brave girl. Thank you. Maybe we should go out sometime, do something, like normal.”

Gina sighed. “Me, normal? Sorry, you’re great, you’re really cute, and I would love to hang with you. But I’m leaving for college soon, and I’m never coming back here. I don’t fit in this town; I hate it. It’s too normal. In all the time I’ve been here, you are the only person I ever liked. It’s too bad we never got to know each other. Besides, look at me. I’m not normal; I’m a whore. Nobody, sure thing not your friends, especially after today, nobody thinks I’m normal. I guess that’s because I’m not. You wouldn’t want to hang with me. Do you have some towels or something so I can clean up a bit?”

All he could come up with were rags wet with beer. The boy helped Gina into her car. Even after all that had happened, despite the blood and the dirt, Gina was gorgeous. The leader’s heart was breaking too, breaking for this strange and beautiful girl.

They never saw each other again. Gina got a vaginal infection and was in bed with a fever for a week. She lied badly to the doctor about what had happened, but he didn’t guess the whole truth. The extent of Gina’s inappropriate adolescent behavior was more than the doctor could have imagined, and so nothing came of the gangbang. Three of the boys bragged about what they did to Gina to anyone who would listen until their leader threatened to kick their asses. No one believed them.

Gina left for school and she hardly ever returned home. From then on Gina stayed away from motorcycle guys, but she didn’t forget them. They were often in her fantasies, just as now, as she came on Eric’s insistent tongue. Gina dreamed she was kneeling face down in the dirt, leather clad punks standing around watching, while an enormous cock pounded her from behind. Gina grabbed Eric’s head and thrust against his face. Eric gratefully sucked as Gina loosed a torrent into him.