A Girl Gone Ch. 06

My step father would wake me up at night by sticking his index and middle fingers in my mouth. Not quite far enough to gag me, but just before. Like he knew exactly how far to go. 

This is the first thing I think of this morning as my eyes open to car lights flooding through my light blue drapes. It's a terrible thing to start a day this way. For me, that is. It will set the tone. I always let it. 

It is so real that I can taste his fingers and remember how rough they were. 

A few years ago, I got a flat tire on the way to work and ended up pulling into a garage to have it fixed. That was when I remembered what that taste was. I had spent years thinking I had made it up in my head. The mind is such a powerful thing. 

The smell was the rubber of tires. That garage. That waiting room. Dirty rubber stacked around on display just collecting dust, waiting to be taken home. 

Yes, the sales associate tried to sell me a new set. They prey on women too. 

"I'll have to wait and talk to my husband," I told him. 

They hate that answer. 

My stepdad worked at a place called El Amigo tires for most of his life. That smell is difficult to lose. 

His name was Maurice, though everyone called him Red because of his hair. 

I had this habit for years of running two fingers along the passenger side front tire of my cars before I got in. No clue why, except maybe some OCD. Well, I also used to bite my nails a lot. Maybe there was a connection between them. I like to overthink. 

Red proposed to me when I got pregnant. He did it in the romantic way of asking me while he had his dick inside me. He didn't really say it in a question. 

My mind raced to the future of being the girl in town who ran off with her mother's husband. I would always be that if I said yes. 

Red wrapped his arm around my neck and whispered in my ear. 

"Say what your name would be if I married you," he demanded. 

His full weight pressed down on my body, and his arm tightened around my neck. He kept thrusting into me harder and harder. 

"Melinda Raines" I finally answered between grunts and gasps for air. 

It was not a completely terrible experience when I look back at it now. Red fucked very well and all he wanted to do was break me. 

All I want is to feel that broken again and to cum like I did with him. It always felt as though I had no choice. 

My nightly Seroquel still lingers as I try to replace the missing caffeine and nicotine in my body. It helps me not think about anything by knocking me out. 

David hates me taking it.

"You're in a coma," he gripes "I couldn't wake you up if the house was on fire" 

I guess that's the reason for my madness. Hardly ever got a good night's sleep. 

Sometimes I'll take one before dinner even 

starts so I can be asleep early and wake up to being alone. 

I've hardly ever been alone. 

Even now I'm just waiting for a guy I met in a chat room. He knows how I need to be treated. 

Roland had a motorcycle, and I went for my first ride with him shortly after we met. I loved and still love the feeling of freedom as I cling to the driver and trust him with my life. Combine that with the power between my legs and I'm in heaven. 

We all get to be angels from time to time. 

Roland lived in Hell. I could describe Hell as a place that time had forgotten about. They built every building and house during the 1950s. The only things new were the trailers that kept popping up between houses. The population kept getting bigger, but the places to stay had to be improvised. It was like there wasn't anyone in charge here. 

"I don't get it," Heather said as we drove by the residences. "Why didn't they just build a trailer park and leave the yards alone? It looks tacky here" 

She liked things tidy and organized. She obsessed over little things like decorations and made elaborate plans for holidays that were still months away. Heather was annoying sometimes, but she was my best friend. Our trips to the mall together were a cover for me to get to spend the day with Roland in his trailer. Heather usually sat in the car and read a book but had ventured as far as the living room to watch television while Roland fucked me senseless. 

Todd was standing outside with Roland when we pulled into the yard. The driveway was just tire tracks that had killed the grass that once grew there. 

They were next to Roland's Harley drinking beer. 

I couldn't wait to get out of the car and get to him. 

It's so nice to be outside in a place where nobody knows you are married while you kiss your lover. I'm sure it's a feeling that few would appreciate. We were only twenty miles away from my house, but it was far enough. 

He barely reciprocated my affection, but his hand on my ass expressed his desire. 

"What are you sluts up to?" he asked as he squeezed. 

I was up on my toes and smiling at the question as I rested my hands on his chest. I loved the question so much, but couldn't think of a clever answer. 

"I'm not a slut like Melinda," Heather teased. 

It was her sense of humor. She was very dark and dry with her wit. 

"I don't want you to be a slut like Melinda," Roland answered quickly. "I want you to be a slut like you" 

That shut her up except for a laugh that she tried so desperately to hold back. Todd and I were laughing, so I'm sure that didn't help. 

Her face was bright red with embarrassment.

"Wanna go for a ride?" Roland asked, as he slapped my ass. 

I nodded an eager response. 

We left Todd and Heather in the front yard as Roland tore off down the street. I left a scream of terror and excitement behind for them. 

The only road around to go really fast on was the main road that led in and out of town. The speed limit was 55 mph, and we were beyond that the last time I got to look. I could feel the heat from the leather seat going through my pants and squeezed my legs tight to feel the warmth and vibration on my thighs. 

We slowed down and took a right off the highway down a road that was shaded by the canopy of trees. The further we rode, the darker it was getting.

"Where are we going?" I yelled as loud as I could. 

Roland didn't answer. Either I wasn't loud enough to hear over the engine or he was being a shit and didn't answer. Both are likely. 

We slowed again and turned at the gates of a cemetery. Now we were going slow enough, I knew I could ask. 

"Where are we going?" I repeated. 

He didn't answer. 

Roland was such a shit. 

The stones looked so old and I couldn't help but read the both years and dates on them. Never the names, just how long they lived. 

There were so many that were 1944 and they were all very young, maybe my age then or younger. 

We stopped in the back of the cemetery by the pond and got off the bike. 

"What are we doing?" I asked. 

He didn't answer. 

"What are we doing?" I repeated myself. 

"You have too many clothes on, I can't hear you," he said. 

"What?" I laughed. 

"I'm hard of hearing," he said with a straight face. "If you take some clothes off, I can hear you" 

"What the hell would that have to do..." I stopped myself there. 

I looked around and didn't see anyone upright so I pulled off my shirt. 

"Can you hear me now?" I asked. 

"Barely," he said "Just a whisper" 

I reached behind my back and unsnapped my bra. 

"How about now?' I asked as I let it slide off my arms and fall to the ground. 

"A little better," he smiled. 

I crossed my arms and looked over my shoulder again. 

"Who are you waiting on?" he asked. "Nobody can see those little tits of yours" 

My face told how pissed I was at him. His face told me how much he didn't care. 

I reached down and pulled my boots off and then, after checking behind me once again, I pulled my pants and panties down and let them take my socks with them. I always loved that trick. The waist down was always easy. 

"Can you hear me now, asshole?" I asked. 

"I hear you," he said as he quickly matched toward me. 

It was old reflexes that had me backing up in fear. 

He grabbed me by the back of the hair and stared into my eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time. Thirty seconds of eye contact is too much, and this felt like an eternity. It was probably closer to thirty seconds. 

"Turn around," he said as his hand clenched tighter. 

I was trying not to smile. Fuck, I loved it. I watched him kick my jeans off to the side as he spun me around.

He still held my hair back in a ponytail as his other hand rubbed down my ass and between my legs. 

"Bend over," he said. 

I could hear his pants unzip before a sharp slap fell on my ass. I let out a soft whimper as my hands clenched at my knees. 

I wanted to feel free like this all the time. Vulnerable. Nothing but skin to take in the rays of the sun and the gentle breeze that made the trees dance above us. 

My back arched as he entered me forcefully and my head snapped back as he grabbed my hair and yanked back even harder. 

There was no sensitive side to Roland. What you saw is what you got, and he was not apologetic for it. That was fine for what we did when we were together. He slammed into me as hard as he could and my pussy ached afterwards from the beating. He slammed me onto my toes and balanced me by pulling my hair back. I was quiet at first, but after it was apparent that nobody was coming to visit the poor souls around me, I screamed his name over and over. 

"Oh, that dick!" I yelled out. "Fuck that pussy, baby. You own that shit." 

I had never been vocal before and the things I said in that cemetery embarrassed me a little. 

"Smack my ass, Roland!" I begged, "Leave a fucking bruise. Fucking fuck me, baby!" 

He did everything I asked. 

I guess he could hear me now.