Accepting Cindy

He broke open the wrapper and rolled it down his resurgent member, before reaching for the tube of lubricant, and continuing his conversation with me.

"You look like one, act like one, kiss like one, suck cock like one, and you let me fuck you, just like a little girl. Face it, you've got a girls figure and a girls mind. You like dressing up in girly clothes, and you look fucking good as a girl. Why don't you just cut the crap and accept that you are a girl, and more to the point, accept that you are MY LITTLE GIRL!"

With that he rolled over on top of me, crushing me with his body weight, then reached down and pulled my knees outwards, then pushed them toward my shoulders. I felt his slick cock slap against my ass, before he reached down, and positioned his weapon at my tender anal opening.

"NO! NO!"

I shouted. But he continued as if I wasn't even there.

With a powerful thrust of his hips he buried himself deep inside me. I screamed with combined rage and pain, but even that futile protest was crushed when he shoved his tongue into my mouth, and locked his lips around mine.

Infuriatingly, exasperatingly, humiliatingly – with each short, powerful thrust of his muscular hips the pain gradually went away and those intensely good feelings started to sweep through my body. His fucking continued at a frantic pace, and I could feel an orgasm building deep within me.

From nowhere he pushed inside me extra hard and I felt myself letting go. An orgasm tore through my body, causing me to buck wildly, almost throwing his considerable bulk off me and off the bed. I screamed so high and loud that no sound came out and I could feel my eye's popping out of their sockets. My stomach was awash with my cum and our sweat but he continued on regardless, steadily building to his own climax. At the critical moment he pulled out of me, tore off the condom, and sprayed my face, chest and stomach with another huge load of his love juice. The look of sheer joy and fulfillment on his face and his victorious smile as he did this will live in my mind forever. He collapsed alongside of me and promptly fell into a deep, blissful sleep.

I could barely walk – my ass felt like he was still buried inside me, and my legs were like jelly, but I did manage to stagger into the en-suite. I needed to wash the cum off me, and I wanted to get away from him as soon as possible. I knew he'd get horny again when he woke up, and I knew I couldn't muster anything more than a token resistance to his sexual demands.

It was good to be safely locked in his mother's bathroom. I enjoyed the warmth of the water and the lovely, creamy scented soap his mother used. It was like the water was washing away my guilt, my shame, and my anger along with the sweat, cum, and lubricant of my sexual awakening. I needed this time to myself to think – to come to terms with what had just happened. I needed to be free of the intense pleasure his cock had given me and the raging hatred I felt for him so that I could take stock of things.

I resigned myself to having to learn to accept that despite my anger toward him, he was most probably right. I was, for intents and purposes, as he had so gleefully pointed out, a girl. The most damning piece of evidence was, of course, the way I had sexually responded to him. I could bullshit my way out of just about everything – but not that. I had squealed like ten girls each time I had a climax – a damning and humiliating admission of my femininity if ever there was one.

I was more than a little annoyed to realize that I had no clothes to wear when I emerged from the shower. I wanted to dress and make my escape, but it looked like that scheme was kyboshed. I had no option but to slip into one of his mothers' pink, fluffy robes and try to creep out of the en suite, find my own clothes, and then make good my escape.

As I slipped through the door I heard a sickening sound.

"Mmmm, pink really is your color! You pretty little girl."

He was wide awake, stretched out across the bed like a king, his smiling face propped by his hand, and with his proud erection bobbing ever so slightly with each heart beat. He laughed at his own joke and my obvious frustration and anger.

I was about to yell at him, something feeble about how he was not a real man and how I would never be his, when the phone rang and he quickly sprang up and off the bed and left the room to answer it. I tried to breathe slowly and compose myself before he came back in. I wanted to tell him how much I hated him.

Secretly, I now realized, I longed to be his little girl, to dress for him, to wear makeup for him, to be kissed by him, to suck him, to be fucked by him - but my pride would not allow myself to admit it. He was so arrogant and condescending, I just had to try and burst his bubble.

I heard him finish his conversation and then he came back into the bedroom.

"What you say might be true, but I'll never be YOUR little girl, and you'll never touch me again!"

I shouted and tried to sound convincing.

He smiled his usual arrogant smile.

"Well, it looks like we have all night to work on your attitude. That was your brother, he's had car trouble and they're not coming home tonight. I suggested that you sleep over here, and they all think that's a good idea. Aren't I just the nicest guy?"

He laughed an evil laugh at the look of outrage and despair on my face, then softly added,

"It's going to be a long, long night."

I burst into tears and fell to my knees, cupping my face in my hands to prevent him from further enjoying my misery. I hated him so much and he was acting like such a bastard, but the breaks kept rolling his way. It all seemed so unfair. I wanted him to die – I wanted to kill him.

Then I felt a strange, gentle hand on my back. It patted me lightly, as if to comfort me. I knew it was Sam, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him. Did he want more sex? Why couldn't he just leave me alone?

"Leave me alone. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

I sobbed.

He continued to pat me.

"It doesn't have to be this way, you know?"

I ignored him.

"There's no need to fight it. What has happened has happened. You can deny it all you like, but that won't make it go away, will it? You can hate me with all your heart if you want, but that will never erase the special evening we have shared. You can dismiss the three earth-shattering orgasms you experienced if you really want to, but that won't mean that they didn't happen."

I knew what he said made sense, but I would not, could not, lift my head and face him. I remained a pathetic ball on the ground, until I felt him get up and head for the door. I heard his footsteps stop and could sense him turning for one last word.

"I'm going to watch a movie in the lounge room.",

He started, his voice sounding soft and kind for the first time.

"Why don't you get yourself cleaned up, and pick out something nice to wear. She's got plenty to choose from. Why don't you come out and join me when you're ready, hey girly?"

I fought the spring tides of emotion that washed through my mind, everything was all screwed up, but somehow they seemed to suddenly get clear. I cleared my throat, so that I could reply to him. It seemed so strange saying them but as they permeated the room, the words just seemed so right.

"Don't call me girly, call me Cindy."

The End
(or is this just the beginning?)