Alison's Adventures

Alison woke early and knocked on her flat-mate Julie's door.

She ate a hasty bowl of cereal, then a carton of yoghurt and washed it all down with an instant coffee. Then she went into the bathroom for a shower. After drying herself, she returned to her room to dress for work.

A recent graduate, she had landed a plum city job in which she was anxious to make the very best impression. The pay offered had astonished her and she didn't want to take any chances with her future prospects. To that end she dressed carefully, if rather conservatively.

White satin and lace bra and panties, matching garter belt, brand new sheer nylon stockings - the room she worked in was rather hot and she felt uncomfortable in tights - a white, lace trimmed waist slip, over which went a black skirt with a very small slit up the back. It reached within four inches of her knees, allowing her long elegant legs to be shown off to their best advantage. A black jacket that matched her skirt covered her plain white nylon blouse. On her feet she wore plain court shoes, not too high a heel, but helpful at displaying her leg contours.

She looked at herself in her long mirror, tidied her blond hair which she wore in a ponytail and smiled, pleased at her appearance. Earrings, necklace and watch completed her ensemble.

Julie appeared before Alison left for work.

"Don't forget I'm going to Barcelona for the long Easter weekend," she reminded Alison. Alison knew her flatmate was going to stay with a boyfriend she had met on a winter break two months previously. She was looking forward to having the flat to herself for four whole days during which she reckoned to catch up on her reading. For despite being a cracking good looking girl, Alison was an avid bookworm.

She had sailed through her degree course without any real exertion on her part, just as easily as she had risen to the top in every subject that had caught her interest. Her main hobbies had been prowling around old churchyards and exploring ancient ruins. Her favourite holiday had been to Pompeii, the coliseum and forum in Rome and Hadian's villa in Tivoli.

There had been a few boyfriends of course. At school she had been friendly with Keith, a lawyer's son. Later she had dallied with several men, slept with a few and dropped them quickly when she found they were interested only in their own satisfaction and not at all in hers.

When asked once what her ambition was she had said it was to meet a nice man, marry and have two or three children and live in the countryside. Not all that much to ask for, one might have thought.

Among her dislikes were men who spent all their spare time fishing, kicking air-bags of whatever shape around a field, hitting little white balls into holes in the ground and other equally futile past-times. Her attitude lead to many arguments and not a few men who fancied her were put off by her disparagement of their favourite sports. The only sport she had ever played was tennis but she wasn't good at it, despite many attempts to acquire the necessary skills.

She did like dancing, music and singing. An occasional party was also a popular way for her to spend an evening. Despite her lack of success with men on the sexual front, she was not averse to trying out a likely looking partner now and then. She enjoyed being courted, even pursued, although it always seemed to end in disappointment.

Alison left the apartment at twenty minutes to eight, walked two blocks to the station and caught the train to the city centre.

She had to pass a derelict block roped off and scheduled for redevelopment. As she passed a gap between two buildings, Alison felt her arm being grabbed. Before she could cry out, she was pulled sideways into the alley. Her head hit the stone wall and everything went black.

Meanwhile, several days earlier...

Mel and his sidekick, Nigel, were on their way between prisons, their handcuffs chained to the van with two other inmates labelled as dangerous. There were three guards, the driver, his oppo and the one who drew the short straw to ride inside the van with the prisoners.

It was late afternoon, windy and wet. A little boy, wrapped up in his yellow waterproofs and galoshes should have been visible a mile off as he chased the hedgehog across the road. But it was close to a slight bend in the road and at that precise moment a sudden gust of wind blew a hedge sideways obscuring the view of the oncoming tanker driver. He saw the flash of yellow late. It was too late to stop so, instinctively, he swerved round the lad.

If it hadn't been for the patch of loose gravel that a recent surge of rainwater had deposited on the road he would have made it back to his own side of the road before he hit the oncoming prison van.

As it was, the officers in the front were crushed to death in a fraction of a second. Their van was hurled aside like an empty trash can, colliding with a tree. The impact was too much for the already overstrained anti-jack-knifing mechanism on the tanker. Its articulated rear swung round overtaking the tractor and crashing into more trees a few yards on from the prison van.

There followed a few seconds of eerie hush before the tanker exploded.

Inside the van, its occupants had shot forward against the steel partition. One prisoner's neck was broken, the other prisoner and the guard were concussed. Mel and Nigel being at the rear, had a comparatively soft landing on the bodies of their unfortunate companions.

Mel was trying to re-orientate himself when the tanker went up. He realised the situation quickly, got hold of the officer's keys and managed to unlock himself and Nigel. Then his hand brushed the side of the van nearest the blaze. The hairs on the back of his hand and arm singed and the hot metal gave of on ominous smell that he recognised as burning paint.

The doors at the rear of the van were part broken and bent. Normally Mel might have had difficulty getting them fully open, but panic leant him strength, He hurled himself through the opening and yelled at Nigel to follow. The pair raced down a grassy slope as the van burst into flames. They paused to drink at the little stream at the bottom of the slope. Wet grass had never felt so good as they cupped their hands full of the cold water. Then they slunk away into the gathering gloom as distant sirens announced the immanent arrival of the emergency services.

Mel had taken the officer's wallet as well as the keys. There wasn't a lot of cash but there was enough to buy tickets at the nearby railway station.

In amidst the crowed city, they soon found a derelict apartment block due for demolition. It would suit them for now.

Luckily for Mel and Nigel, several days elapsed before the authorities became aware that they had not perished in the blaze. The traumatised small boy at the site was unable to tell anybody anything. The human remains had been so well cooked and fused that it wasn't until a full forensic examination had been completed that their absence became known.

Then the papers revealed to the public that two robbers and rapists were on the loose, having served less than two of the ten years to which they had been sentenced for their crimes.

Mel suggested they simply lie low and keep themselves out of sight until the hue and cry had died down somewhat. Nigel agreed. He was slower witted than his friend Mel so, despite being bigger, stronger and more athletic, he tended to be the follower. Mel was an agreeable looking young black man with an easy, open, disarmingly honest-looking face that totally belied the thug inside.

He was a couple of inches shorter than his friend and although he was clearly black, his skin was nothing like the pitch black density of Nigel's.

He had remarked to Nigel that if he wanted to hide in a dark room all he had to do was shut his eyes and mouth and he would become invisible!

Some of the other black inmates had called Nigel, "Nig", short for nigger rather than Nigel. Mel had objected at first. He would have hit any white man who used the word but eventually even he had settled on "Nig."

It was Nigel that spotted her. He often gazed out of the glassless window of their "kitchen" in the early morning. A smart blond who wore her hair in a pony tail, dressed in a dark suit that set off her golden hair admirably. She always walked so straight backed in her high heels.

"Mel, I'd sure love to fuck that classy looking bitch down there," he remarked, "Just scope that ass!" as she disappeared down the road.

Nig started looking out for her in the evenings too. She rapidly became an obsession for him.

Then one morning when Mel had been out most of the night "foraging" as he put it, and had gone to sleep on his return, Nig went down to the street level. As the girl went past, he reached out and held onto her arm. He only wanted the stop her, talk to her maybe. But as she was swung round, her head hit the wall and she went out like a light.

Nig caught her and rapidly carried her back from view. Then he started to carry her upstairs. He worried that he might have hurt her. He and Mel had occupied an apartment on the sixth floor because it was still part furnished. The kitchen was left, there were odd bits of furniture that the previous occupants hadn't deemed worthy of removal. A settee, some chairs, some carpeting, a bed and a couple of tables, made the place almost habitable by the standards of two young cons.

The sixth floor involved carrying the girl up twelve flights of stairs, but Nig was strong, she wasn't too heavy and he made it without stopping.

He and Mel had shared the bed for the first night, but Mel objected to Nig's restless arms flailing around during the night. He had liberated a camp-bed on which he was now fast asleep.

Nig lowered the girl onto his bed. He stripped off her jacket, fondling her breasts as he did so. He stopped when she murmured slightly. He found a couple of cable ties and fastened her wrists to the head of the bed. She lay there on her back, her mouth slightly open, her legs slightly apart.

Nig could feel his cock getting very stiff just looking at this lovely feminine figure at his mercy. He unclipped and unzipped her skirt. But he had difficulty getting it down over her beautifully contoured hips. Impatiently he pulled at the seam. It started to part. He quickly ripped it all the way down to the hem, and pulled it off her inert body. He stroked her thigh through her waist slip, feeling the silky material under his finger-tips.

His cock was calling for action. He reached up under her slip, pulled at her panties and ripped them off too. Then he dropped his jeans, pulled out his cock from its excruciating confinement and climbed onto the bed. He eased her legs further apart, held his cock head against her cunt lips. But she was too small and too dry. He went into the kitchen and rubbed butter all over his cock. He took some back to the girl and began to massage it into her opening.

Then he tried again. His cock started going in slowly. He eased it in gradually, albeit impatiently. Breathing heavily, he finally began thrusting and withdrawing. It was fantastic. He hadn't felt so good in ages, years even.

In only two minutes he began to climax. Oh! What a joy to feel his cum explode into the girl's cunt. He shot load after load into her. It was so satisfying. He didn't want to stop at that. He knew he could come again in a few minutes. His cock was gathering pace again. It was sliding easily in and out of the girl's well lubricated cunt like a piston on an old steam train. This was so much better than that little schoolgirl they had accused him of raping.

He heard a voice behind him. It was Mel, "Reckon it's my turn now, Nig."

Nig turned his head to see his friend in nothing but a T-shirt, holding his rampant cock ready for action,

"Argh!" said Nig as he shot his second load of cum into the girl. Mel could have sworn he saw her move her hips a little, as if encouraging Nig's final efforts.

Then as Nig rolled off her, Mel thought he saw her eyelids flutter. She was coming round. Mel got down between her legs and inserted his cock into her wet and dripping cunt. Although he was smaller than Nig in almost every respect, his cock exceeded Nig's by over an inch in length and was even stiffer.

Alison was dreaming. She had been wooed by the Crown Prince. He had carried her off to his castle and was making love to her. She could feel his cock going in and out of her. It was delicious. Easily the most erotic dream she had ever experienced. She felt him come, shooting his lovely juicy cum into her. She wanted his baby. Oh! Yes! Yes! She wanted him to fill her with his cum and get her pregnant with a new heir to the throne.

What Joy! What satisfaction! This was her role in life! Then just as she was starting to come, he went away.

Moments later, before she had time to weep for her lost love, he was back, bigger than ever inside her. Oh! Joy! Now she could feel herself coming. He was so big in her.

Her eyes flickered open, then shut again. No she didn't want to wake up! She wanted the dream to go on. She wanted the Black Prince to bring her to her climax.

Then as she felt herself coming, she wondered why she was being fucked by the Black Prince. He was from the fourteenth century wasn't he? Then she came. And came awake!

There was no prince at all. She was being raped by a black man she had never met and she felt dirty when she realised how much she had enjoyed coming on his cock.

This couldn't be happening to her. She had been on her way to work. Somebody had grabbed at her. Now she was tied to this bed being raped.

What was it her old Auntie Hilda had said? "If you ever get raped, just relax and let it happen. It's worse when you fight it."

There was no question of fighting anything. He was big and powerful and she felt weak and dizzy. So she tried to relax.

Mel looked into her eyes. He thought she had probably realised what was happening to her. He half expected her to scream, not that it would have done her any good. The kitchen window was out, but the door was closed. It was unlikely that anyone would hear over the noise of the traffic.

"My wrists," she said. He raised an eyebrow.

"My wrists are hurting," she explained.

He reached down to his jeans pocket on the floor. He pulled out a penknife.

"Keep still," he ordered her.

He slit the cable ties. She was going nowhere.

She massaged her sore wrists above his head. Then, for want of anywhere else to put them, she rested them on his shoulders lightly. He resumed his eager thrusting into her cunt.

Alison was desperately trying to relax, following her Auntie's advice. But she couldn't help a reflex motion to his thrusting. Mel took this as her acquiescence to being fucked. He bent and kissed her, his tongue slipping briefly between her lips.

Alison was fighting a desperate battle. Something in her wanted to hold him tightly, to pull him deeper into her, to give herself unreservedly to him. The demon in her told her to shut her eyes and make mad passionate love to her Prince Charming, even if he was a black prince!

"Stay detached," she told herself, "Keep a grip on yourself."

But her reaction to his thrusts wasn't controllable. It was simply a reflex of her cunt muscles. The trouble was that her hips kept wanting to join in. Alison's consciousness wavered for a moment. She lost control only for an instant, but her hips, cunt and ass took over, starting to hump back in time with Mel's thrusts.

He took hold of her blouse and wrenched the sides apart. Some of the buttons came off. He grasped her tits and began to massage them through her bra. Even through the material he could feel her hard nipples. They stood out well. He bent and licked at them, leaving wet patches on her bra. He reached underneath her and fumbled with the catch. Then the bra came loose, allowing him to fondle her white tits in his black hands.

It was the last straw for Alison. Her hands were sliding down Mel's back, grasping the cheeks of his ass, pulling him into her. She heard herself saying, "Fuck me. Fuck me harder." She couldn't believe she was doing this. She didn't want it. She didn't even bother that much with sex. She could hardly believe she was saying, "Fuck me. Fuck my cunt. I love the feel of your fucking great prick in me."

Mel could though! He loved the things she was saying to him. This was the sort of girl he had always wanted. A girl that really and truly enjoyed a good fuck. A girl that thought his cock was the greatest instrument of pleasure on earth.

"I'm fucking you right now, you little whore," Mel told her as he shot his cum into her cunt. Load after load squirted into her as she moaned and thrashed around experiencing the best climax of her life.

Suddenly she was laughing and kissing him.

"I'm Alison. What's your name, lover?" she asked.

"Mel. And that's my mate Nig," Mel replied, indicating the somnolent figure in the easy chair, "He's the one who brought you here and fucked you first."

So the jet-black figure in the chair was Prince Charming! She tried to smile and only burst into tears. She was such a slut! She had liked being fucked, especially by Mel. Also by Nig in her sleep too! What a whore she was! She felt so ashamed of herself.

Mel was surprised by the tears. His cock was still in her. He was expecting to enjoy fucking her again right away. He was already moving slowly in and out of her. He could feel his cock growing harder and stiffer by the second.

Alison could feel it growing too.

"Oh! No, not again," she thought. Then she remembered she should have been at work some time ago.

"Mel, stop. I have to call my workplace. They'll want to know why I'm not at work."

"Where's your phone?"

"In my handbag," she looked around. It was by the bed where it had fallen from her shoulder when Nig had deposited her on the bed. She got the phone out and called the office. She explained she wasn't feeling well, the result of her 'monthly'. She would be there as usual on Tuesday, the next working day.

She snapped the phone shut and dropped it back in her bag.

"Sue, you're a cute fucking liar, you little slut," he told her with a grin.

The grin was infectious. She grinned back. Suddenly she wanted him again. Against all her upbringing, her normal inclinations, almost in spite of herself, she wanted him. She wanted to feel him coming inside her. She wanted to be fucked again just like before. She wanted him to make her come, to experience that ecstatic joy that only a great fuck can give a girl.

Her arms went around him. She kissed him. Open mouthed kissing with their tongues intertwined, exchanging saliva. He was fucking her hard and fast, his breathing laboured. He started coming just as she reached that crescendo she adored. It welled up in her, she felt she could burst, explode even.

He pumped hard shooting his cum into her. He relished the thought that he could get her pregnant. He hoped she wasn't on the pill. He delighted in filling her with his seed.

As they slowed and finally stopped, she kissed him.

"Thanks, Mel. That was great!" she told him. He knew in a flash that she was his slut now. He could do anything with her. She would give him anything he wanted.

Alison looked at her torn panties, skirt and blouse.

"I need to get some new clothes from my apartment," she said to Mel.

He wondered if it was some sort of plot for a moment but dismissed the idea. She was his. She wouldn't betray him now.

"That's not a problem," he replied, "You can go back and get some things tonight."

"First I'm going to need a needle and thread or some pins," she informed Mel.

"I'm not your errand boy, slut," he objected.

"Haven't you got anything here I could use?" she asked.