The Price of Ice Cream
Erin giggles, her eyes rolling in feigned disdain as she closes her legs, turns
back toward Lori. She loves this game, she and Lori come here a few times a
week just to play. It's a simple game, really-stare at a man who has come in
for a cone or sundae, get his attention by working the ice cream with tongue,
lips. Once he is riveted, spread the legs, reveal the sweet, blond pussy under
her school uniform. It never fails to "get a rise," and it never fails to leave
Erin feeling giddy, satisfied, in control.
There was no malice in the game-not really. At 14, Erin and Lori were exploring
their sexuality, discovering the power of their bodies, the overwhelming effect
their simple teasing had on men. Erin looks over her shoulder, sees the man's
tortured eyes upon her. She turns back to Lori, lapses into another fit of
giggling.
"Touch your cookie." Lori whispers, leaning close.
"No way!" Erin's eyes widen, she shakes her head vehemently.
"Come on, don't be a baby!" Lori is four months older, and never lets Erin
forget it, "I'll do it at the same time, it'll be fun!"
Erin stares, considering. "You promise you will, too?" Her cheeks are already
burning in anticipatory embarrassment.
"Cross my heart."
Erin swivels in her seat, looks up boldly at the man, her lips curved, tongue
snaking out to swirl along her cone as her legs spread slowly. Leaning back,
she slips a hand under her skirt, begins rubbing her pussy slowly. Hunching her
shoulders slightly, she feels the cool air against her small breasts as her
unbuttoned shirt gaps wide. A cup, but sweet, pretty, obviously good enough, if
experience here means anything. Her legs fall further open, her fingers parting
her lips as she stares at him, reveling in the way his eyes have misted, mouth
has gone slack. Licking her lips, she pushes a finger into her tight, virgin
pussy, wiggles her hips as she smiles. Lori's giggles drag her back, she claps
her legs shut and twists to look-Lori has not followed suit-she sits primly,
snickering. Erin leaps to her feet, face red, shamed. Grabbing her purse, she
storms from the ice cream shop.
"Baby, baby!" Lori calls after her, ridiculing. Shaking her head, she returns
to her cone, already focused on a new victim.
Greg rises, his cock painfully erect as he holds his jacket in front of him to
hide the impressive bulge. He walks to the door, watches Lori as she works it
for another. His hands shake as he pushes the door open-he's been on parole for
4 months now. He thinks of the woman who put him in prison-the woman he
kidnapped and raped, murdered 8 years earlier. An error in the trial, tainted
evidence-the murder charges were dropped, leaving him serving time for a weapons
charge, a drug violation. He closes his eyes, feels her bucking, sobbing
breathlessly beneath him. But it's Erin's face he sees. Groaning, he scans the
dark street, sees Erin's slight form walking quickly into the black. He breaks
into a run, dashing determinedly after her, all thoughts of prison, parole,
wiped from his mind at the sight of her tiny hips twitching maddeningly as she
moves away.
Erin cries angrily, feeling foolish, bad. Lori can be so mean, pushing Erin to
do things that make her feel stupid. She feels guilty, only a vague
understanding of the discomfort their game causes. Her dad always taught her
that, if she thought it would disappoint or shame her family, it was probably
something she shouldn't do. She imagines her father seeing the game. She cries
harder, vows to never play again.
Greg crosses the street, running dead out, surpassing her before crossing back
over. He crouches behind the hedge at the church, his lungs burning, side
stitching as he waits. He is sweating profusely, hands trembling, cock aching
as it presses hard against the buttons of his pants. He reaches down, rubs it
as he imagines her sweet pussy impaled upon it, slender legs flailing
desperately in the air. It will tear her apart, he knows. He doesn't care.
Erin struggles to stop crying, her breath hitching in painful hiccups as she
walks toward home-only a block now, she needs to get it together before she
walks in the door. Red eyes she can hide with a quick dash to the bathroom.
All out crying will attract attention. She runs a hand through her wavy black
hair, blue eyes staring at her feet. She'll be better, she promises herself.
She'll be better.
Greg moves silently behind her, breath deep, eyes sharp, mind racing. He
watches as she ascends the stairs, opens the door. He stares at the house, nods
shakily.
Erin sits on her bed, legs kicking distractedly. Lori called during dinner, but
Erin refused to talk to her. The resulting interrogation by her parents had
been . . . uncomfortable. Her father's assertion that Lori was a nice girl, a
good girl who must have been right in any dispute left Erin impotently enraged.
There is no talking to her dad, she knows that. So she'd just nodded, excused
herself as soon as possible. Erin sighs sadly, unbuttons her shirt, slips it
over her arms, revealing her small, round breasts. Rising, she wriggles her
skirt down over her hips, lets it fall to the floor. Walking to her dresser,
she pulls out a nightie, panties. Tossing them on the bed, she strides to the
bathroom, turns on the CD player, begins drawing her bath.
Greg crouches in the cover of the bushes, watches Erin strip for him. He
presses firmly against her window, breathes a sigh of relief as it pushes open.
Looking around furtively, he scrambles over the sill, stands next to the
bathroom door. He listens, nods at the loud music, the sound of water
splashing. He pushes, the door swinging slowly open. There is no moment of
clarity, no second thoughts-theirs was a collision course from the moment her
sweet legs spread, promising, tempting. There is no going back. Breath
shallow, he slowly pulls his belt from pant loops, wraps it around his hands
tightly.
Erin slips under the water, head shaking, rinsing the conditioner from her long,
strawberry blond hair. She emerges, sputters, hands smoothing her wet hair back
from her face. She leans back, enjoys the water, eyes closed.
Greg's hands tremble violently as he crouches behind the claw tub-he licks his
lips, nostrils flaring as he reaches out. Her legs are spread, one resting on
the edge of the tub, her lovely pussy visible. Her breasts, small, precious,
protruding just slightly above the water. Greg stares, then looks down at the
belt clenched in his hands. The music vibrates through him, he leans forward,
brings his hands over her head, belt taut.
Erin explodes in violent motion as the belt digs cruelly into her throat. She
lets out a strangled squeak as she is yanked backwards, water splashing as she
kicks frantically. Throwing himself backwards, Greg drags her from the tub,
oblivious to her nails digging desperately into his wrists. Erin's eyes are
huge, terrified, her mouth open in a voiceless scream. Greg steps back quickly,
dragging her to the bed, turning to fall forward on top of her, crush her face
into the bedding. Releasing the belt, he keeps a hand firmly on the back of her
head, forcing it down into the downy pillows. Erin thrashes furiously below
him, her hands clawing at the bed, pulling, tearing the top sheet down as Greg
grinds a knee into her back, wrenches her arms back cruelly. Sweating, shaking,
he wraps the belt tightly around her wrists, then reaches down with one hand to
fondle her buttocks, stroking, groaning in satisfaction at the soft, wet flesh
under his palm.
Erin writhes, legs flailing wildly as she fights to breathe. The pillows
conform to her face, all attempts to turn her head, breathe, are thwarted by the
relentless pressure on the back of her head. Her eyes are huge in the darkness
of the bedding, she struggles to get her knees under her.
Tearing his hand away from her sweet, round ass, Greg grabs the panties from the
edge of the bed. Snaking his hand between her face and the bedding, he jams
them into her open mouth, shoving them deep. Flipping her on her back, he
stares down into her panicked face, white lace panties filling her mouth, and
moans with desire. Erin gasps, drags in deep, ragged breaths as he reaches to
the bedstand, grabs her lamp. Yanking, he tears out the cord, grabs her by the
head, begins wrapping the cord tightly around her face, trapping the panties in
her mouth. She begins to scream, muffled, high, head shaking in terror as he
works wordlessly.
"They can't hear you." His voice is gravelly, thick, "they can't hear you over
the music." He bends forward, crushing her arms behind her as he sucks her
nipples, groaning at their soft, puffy feel, sweet taste. Erin whines
breathlessly, mouth working, tongue pushing at the panties in her bound mouth as
her shoulders work from side to side. His teeth nibble, nip, his hands roaming
her sides, stroking her hips excitedly. Eyes dark, smoky, he rises, tearing at
his fly, huge cock springing out into his hand. Erin's eyes bulge, her whines
give way to frantic screams as he knees her thighs apart, drags a calloused hand
between her pussy lips, forcing her open.
Grunting, Greg pushes cruelly into her tight, dry pussy. Erin's screams become
harsh animal whines, her hips bucking wildly, legs kicking frantically around
his waist as he forces her legs up, back, burying his full length into her
virgin hole. Breath ragged, he begins riding her cruelly, slamming viciously
into her, groaning in satisfaction as her tiny breasts bob with each tearing
thrust.
Erin thrashes, agonized, her hips ground into the bed with each vicious stroke.
Her back arches hard, her whines forced out of her in sharp gasps. She stares
at the door, squeals muffled by her panties. If only her parents would come up,
she thinks, prays they will. Her belly cramps, thighs becoming slick with her
own blood. She sobs breathlessly, eyes returning to his sweating face. She
gasps, then begins screaming as recognition sets in. It's him, it's him! Her
sobs deepen, devastated, as she realizes that her "game" brought this home to
her. She squeezes her eyes shut, remembers spreading her legs, touching herself
as he watched hungrily. She remembers laughing at him, flashing her breasts as
she smiled.
"Remember me now?" His thrusts are deep, ripping, his passage lubed by her
blood. "Remember me now?" Reaching forward, he wraps his hands around her
throat, presses hard on her windpipe. Erin's eyes bulge, her lips move in a
desperate plea around the panties, the cord. She whips her head frantically
about, bucking under him as he cuts off her air. Groaning low, he grinds his
twitching cock deep, trembles as his climax hits. His thrusts become uneven as
he fills her ruined pussy with his hot, thick spunk. Erin writhes under him,
nostrils flaring, chest heaving, fighting for air. A strangled gurgling sound
fills her ears as her vision blurs.
Greg sighs deeply, releases her throat, sitting back to consider her as she
drags in a tortured, ragged breath. He presses her legs back, watches as his
cum trickles out, across her ass. Relaxing his grasp, he lets them fall back to
the bed, watches as she drags them painfully together.
"This is your fault, whore, you know that, right?"
Erin sobs rawly, head nodding in horrified agreement.
"And your parents would be disgusted if they knew that you do the things you do,
wouldn't they?" His tone is persuasive, wheedling.
Erin nods again, eyes closed tightly, tears flowing.
He grabs her hair, pulls her head up. "I'm not going to tell them--are you?"
Erin shakes her head vehemently, whining, sobbing.
"You're going to have to convince me," He pulls her to the floor, on her knees,
twisting her so she faces the bed. "because if you don't, I'm going to have to
kill you."
Erin whimpers, shakes her head in terror.
"There's something you can do to convince me," he frees her mouth, wraps the
cord around her throat, tossing the saliva soaked panties on the floor. "Do it
and I'll believe you." Grasping his softening cock, he sits on the edge of the
bed, yanks her closer by the cord. "Show me what a whore you really are."
Erin moans, her voice raw, throat aching.
"Just like that ice cream cone, bitch," He grinds his thumb and forefinger into
her jaw, forces her mouth open. "Just like you did today, just like you
promised." He smiles slightly . . . this is his favorite part. Making the
whores debase themselves, making them work for their lives.
Erin sobs as his meat pushes past her lips, into her mouth. Whining, she begins
to move her tongue, sucking awkwardly as he pulls her head back and forth.
Greg's cock begins stiffening in her working face, forcing her mouth wide,
pressing into the back of her throat. Erin's whines become choked, strained as
he pushes her head down, forces his cock into her protesting throat. She
struggles to pull back, gagging, sobbing between strokes. Greg frowns at her
fight, increases the pressure on the back of her head, other hand still holding
the cord firmly.
A sharp rapping on the bedroom door brings both their heads up. Erin squeals,
eyes sickly hopeful, fixed on the door. Greg jerks up hard on the cord, lifts
her from her knees by the throat as he yanks, cord biting into her soft flesh,
cutting off her air.
"Erin?" Her father, irritated, shouting. "Erin, turn that damned music down!"
Greg strides toward the bathroom, half dragging, half hanging Erin as he reaches
for the CD player, turns the music down. Erin's legs kick helplessly,
frantically, her body twisting furiously as her lips part in a silent scream,
eyes wide in abject terror.
Greg drags Erin the tub by the cord, keeping the pressure tight as she writhes,
backs of her knees pressing against the edge of the tub. One hand holding the
cord tight, he plants the other between her breasts, pushes back relentlessly
until she overbalances, falls backwards into the still warm water. Releasing
the cord, he wraps his arms around her legs, hauls back and up, his raging
erection pressing against her tight asshole as he bends at the end of the tub.
Erin thrashes violently under the water, struggles to bend forward, up, get her
head above the water. Her eyes bug violently as Greg pushes cruelly into her
asshole, tearing it wide as he slams home. Shoulders working side to side, she
stares up through the sloshing water, feet drumming a frantic beat on his broad
shoulders as he slams into her squirming, spasming ass.
Greg thrusts mindlessly, groaning low with pleasure as she bucks, writhes, jerks
in his grasp, her torn ass clenching, milking his cock. He stares down at her
distorted face, eyes huge, mouth opening, closing, opening again. Her hair
moves around her face, floating, drifting across her pale face, beautiful.
"Beautiful." He murmurs, gasping, his cock swelling, jerking, then spitting
forth its load into her ruined bowels. He presses deep, stares into her
horrified eyes. Erin's struggles are wild, beyond thought, her belly straining,
back twisting violently. He sighs, ecstatic, thrilling to her weakening
struggles. Letting go of her legs, he considers her as she pushes her legs
against the end of the tub, works her head above the water.
Gagging, retching, Erin drags in wet, painful breaths, momentarily unaware of
all but her own labored breathing. Greg pulls her forward, reaches down to
loosen the belt, free her hands. Whining, Erin drags her aching arms forward,
crosses her arms across her bruised chest. Smiling, he runs the belt through
loops, zips his pants. Crouching, he leans close, grabs her hair as she shrinks
away.
"You tell anyone, I'll come back and finish it, do you understand, whore?" He
shakes her head with every word, then presses his lips to hers in an obscene
kiss. "This was your fault-you tell anyone, they'll know how you asked for
this." He rises, satisfied with her devastated nods. Walking to the window, he
surveys the room, then climbs silently out.
Erin sits at the breakfast table, hips squirming in pain, pad in her panties,
catching the still flowing blood. Her eyes are red rimmed, puffy, her lips
still slightly swollen. She tugs distractedly at her shirt sleeves, making sure
the raw bruises on her wrists are covered. She jumps visibly as the doorbell
rings, forces herself to look down at her cereal.
"Erin?" Her father calls from the living room, "It's Lori, time to leave for
school!"
Erin whines, looks pleadingly at her mother. "Mom, I really don't feel good."
Her mother looks up, shakes her head. "Erin, I'm not going to let you skip
school just because you're upset with Lori-now go."
Erin rises, walks slowly, achingly to the door, eyes down as she ignores Lori's
greeting. She winces as she steps carefully down the stairs, blinking back
tears. Five blocks to school-she takes a deep, shuddering breath, starts off,
Lori walking behind her.
"So you're still mad at me?" Lori's voice is petulant, irritated. "I didn't
know you could be such a baby-how come you're mad at ME? It's not like I MADE
you do anything!"
Erin turns, eyes narrow, pained. Her mouth opens, then closes tight as she sees
him behind Lori, leering from behind the wheel of a tired old pick up truck.
She whines, stumbles, then sits hard on the curb. Lori shakes her head,
oblivious, storms past Erin. The truck starts, rolls slowly down the street,
following Lori closely. Erin's eyes are wide, she begins to cry, then laugh
sickly as the truck door opens. She stares, fascinated, as Greg leaps from the
truck, grabs Lori, hand clapped over her face as he drags her into the cab.
Erin sags, a strange sense of relief, vindication spreading through her.
"I'm not mad anymore, Lori." Erin rises, limps resolutely toward school as the
truck turns the corner, Lori's flailing legs visible through the rear window.
"I'm not mad at all."
