The Kids Aren't Alright

Take it, slut.

Her eyes widened in horror at the surprise mouthful of dick. He was about half of the way in when she threw her hands against his legs and attempted to free herself, but Stan's grip was too tight: he held fast, letting her know that he meant business.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, grimacing.

He slapped her hands away and yanked her hair. She winced at the pain, then glanced up at him as his plan came to fruition. In her expression he read a mixture of emotions: pain, confusion ... but, most of all, betrayal.

Yes, little one ... this is all you're good for, all you were ever made for. Watch as I take your dreams and show you how pathetic and meaningless they truly are.

Deliberately, he urged her to take more of him, inch by tortuous inch. He luxuriated in the sensations he experienced from the involuntary movement of her tongue. Pinning her head against the wall to prevent her from escaping, he eased his hips forward and continued to enjoy the sight of his shaft disappearing as it entered her gaping mouth. She pushed with all her might against his legs, hoping to break his hold on her, but the effort was futile. She must have sensed that she was fighting an uphill battle because, soon, her shoulders slumped and her hands fell to her sides in defeat. Her eyes, which stared at him through tears, fluttered and rolled into the back of her head as the tip of his dick finally reached the back of her throat, stuffing her esophagus.

The girl can learn. Hallelujah.

With her resistance broken, Stanley plundered the depths of her mouth, and she gagged around the meat of his sweaty cock as he got down to business. He idly wondered when he last had a shower. One day ago? Three days? More? How rude. Pulling out again, he grinned from ear to ear at the sight of the thin layer of saliva coating his sex. She doubled over, with her palms pressing on the tile floor, sputtering and gasping for breath. He gave her a few seconds to reacquaint herself with some fresh air, which she used to cough like a drowning victim breaking the surface of the water. It was a pitiful sight. Helping her up, he stroked her hair affectionately before wedging her lips apart with the tip of his penis and taking the plunge again.

I don't care how long it takes, he mused as he violated her mouth, watching her wince and gag around his cock. I'm going to teach you how to love my dick.

Nudging ever forwards, he groaned softly as her nose reached the base of his pelvis and his balls bounced against her chin. He almost came right then and there at the feeling of her throat clenching around his length.

"That's it, baby," he said, brushing her cheek with his thumb. "Take daddy's dick."

The sounds coming from her sent a wave of ecstasy up his spine. He lost track of time as he mouthfucked her with abandon, surrendering himself to the wet gagging noises escaping her mouth as she choked on his meat. Her desperate pleas were muffled and drowned out by the dull roar of pleasure in his ears, which whispered like the beckoning of a vast, dark, murky ocean.

He stared up at the ceiling and grinned - grinned like one who knew that he was fucking insane and didn't care, as this girl, his conquest, began to understand her place in the world.

This.

This was exactly what he had been waiting for.

***

Erin always thought of herself as a fighter.

She remembered growing up in a house that was fixated on competition. Her dad, Dan, was a coach for a local track team that had once won the yearly regional competition five years in a row. Her earliest memories were of early mornings, with her father waiting on the sidelines as she ran her ass off, trying to beat her own times.

"It's a marathon, not a sprint!" he would yell, stopwatch in hand. "Pace yourself and breathe, for Christ's sake!"

Unfortunately, it was never good enough. Despite all the effort Erin poured into her athletics, her father would always push her to do more, to do better, to keep improving. Her best was never enough for old Coach Dan, even with all their preparation and practice. Hard work was the stuff of champions, and whenever she felt like she was failing her own expectations, her father's voice would rise from the soup of her unconscious, reminding her to keep pushing herself, even if it killed her.

But there was nothing in the world that could have prepared Erin for the feeling of deepthroating a grown man's cock.

And it wasn't a gentle induction into the world of oral sex, either. Her scalp ached from where he was gripping her hair, using it like a bridle as his cock shuttled back and forth between her lips. Clearly, her own participation was not an important factor in his enjoyment; she knelt there as he used her like his personal sex toy. For her own sake, she tried to relax her throat muscles - at least, as much as she could given the circumstances - so that it wasn't as painful as she gagged on his dick. The thing was enormous, about seven inches long and as wide as her wrist. To add insult to injury, he moaned loudly and often, signalling how much he was relishing his time with her like this. For her own part, she wanted to cry and thrash and scream. But he was too strong; his will, like the tide, could not be refused. She could only go with the flow or risk injury - or worse. So she let him have his fun, and tried not to let her sense of shame overcome her emotions.

He pulled out again, and this time she braced herself against his knee as she coughed and sputtered.

"Okay! Jesus!" she gasped. "S-stop for a fucking second, will you? I can't breathe." She hacked like a chainsmoker with a habit, blinking the tears from her eyes. When she could finally see again, she looked up at the man, who had his hands on his hips like a king discovering a new, fertile valley for the taking.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!

"What's the hold up?" he said.

"Nothing ... sorry." She almost hit herself. Why was she apologizing to this monster?

He sighed. "Yeah, well, hurry it up. This cock ain't gonna clean itself."

Though she felt utterly humiliated, the wooden, almost bored tone of his voice was too much to bear. She shot him an icy glare and said, "Would it really kill you to be a little bit nicer to me? It's not like I fucking asked for this."

The slap that greeted her comment took her completely by surprise. Her head whirled around and her mouth fell open in plain shock. It wasn't hard enough to knock her over, but it was backed up by enough force to leave a burning palm print on her cheek.

"What the hell -!" she cried, before another one collided with the opposite cheek. She clutched her face as a high-pitched ringing sound filled her eardrums. Suddenly, a shadow fell over her. Even though she knew who it was, she could barely find the strength to look him in the eye.

When the man, who hovered above her like a malevolent spirit, spoke next, his words chilled her blood. "Don't you ever talk back to me, honey," he hissed. As she scrambled to right herself, fingers wrapped around her throat and shoved her against the cement wall. She clawed at them but it was no use. The man presiding over her was now judge, jury, and executioner. She qualied at the dark fury she saw in his expression. "Ever. Understand? You won't like to see me when I'm angry."

Stars burst in front of her vision as the man slowly choked her. "I don't even know who you are," she managed to squeak, as if that made a lick of difference to what was happening. He was completely in control and there was nothing she could do about it. But it was true, wasn't it? She had only met this man tonight, and already he had gone out of his way to make her life a living hell.

Why are you doing this to me?

There was a cruel chuckle. A hand cupped her face, brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, and then she was looking at the stranger directly. "It doesn't matter who I am," he said, baring his teeth like a wolf waiting for dinner. "All that matters is that you understand one thing: you're mine now." Surprisingly, he then gave her an almost affectionate kiss on the forehead. Erin was frozen with shock as his lips came away, and then she was looking him in the face again. Only, now he looked calm, cheerful, pleased. Benevolent, even - although this was belied by the fact that he was still gripping her around the neck. "Just do as I say, and everything will be alright. Okay?"

Everything will be alright.

There was a part of her that recognized the truth in those words even as he spoke them. And she did want everything to be alright; she wanted people to like her. Following the rules wasn't such a bad thing, was it?

"Promise me?"

Reluctantly, she nodded.

He smiled. It was like the sun breaking through the clouds on a rainy day. "Good. So, be a good girl and get back on your knees. For the time being, I want you to call me Daddy."

It was as if she had slapped her for a third time. "What?!"

He cocked his head. "Did I stutter?" he asked.

"No, but I mean ..." She struggled to put her feelings into words. "That's just so ... wrong." She winced as he drew back for another slap. "All right, all right! I'll do it," she said. "Just ... just give me a second."

"You'll do what?"

When she looked up at him, she could see curiosity, plain as day, written across his features. One arched eyebrow above a cool gray eye that was like a pool of mercury. She gritted her teeth and breathed in deeply through her nostrils, resolving to bear her burden as her real father once taught her to do.

Carefully, she shuffled forward on her knees, and studied the large specimen in front of her. The head was round and red, flushed with blood, and his testicles were covered in a fine down of white. She swallowed hard and, gradually, slipped her lips over his firm member. She felt him shiver as her lips touched his skin.

Well, here goes nothing.

Slowly, she took him into her mouth. At least this way she had control over the pace and nature of the act. With this in mind, she began bobbing her head up and down over his shaft. He groaned ecstatically and chimed in, "There's a girl!" as she devoured his cock. The compliment, she confessed, gave her a weird sense of accomplishment.

He began stroking her hair, and he laughed at a joke no one else could hear. "I wish I was young once more, so that I could love you properly, like a man ought to do," he said, sounding like someone about to take a walk down memory lane. "It was different in those days - romance was important ... "

She lost sight of his hands as they dropped to his side. She picked up her pace, using one of her hands to stroke his shaft as the other found its way, as if by instinct, to his balls and started massaging them. He groaned again.

After a moment, breathily, he added, "I'd take you out to dinner, a show, we'd get to know each other. There's no love like the love between a man and a woman when they come together in mutual respect and devotion."

His cock swelled in her mouth as she used her tongue to wrap around his shaft. It was salty with sweat and other fluids, and it smelled something awful. Still, she knew she had to keep going. After all, this was a marathon, not a sprint.

"I mean, I wouldn't even be allowed to start thinking about kissing you until at least the third date," he exclaimed. When she heard this, her eyes widened in surprise. Was that remorse she detected?

Then he chuckled disapprovingly. When he next spoke, the remorse was gone and was replaced by a tone that was dripping with venom. "But look at you - a beautiful young woman, in the prime of her life, getting used by some disgusting old man in a public bathroom. How times have changed." He stopped playing with her hair and clasped her head with both hands, his fingertips digging painfully into the flesh of her scalp. He looked down at her, and she could only imagine what he saw in her face that made him smile so broadly. "I wish I was young again so that I could offer you the works. But I guess we'll just have to settle for this, won't we? Your ass is beautiful. Stick it out for me a bit more, please ... that's it. Good girl."

She obeyed, sticking out her bottom so that he could get a good view of it. She hated to admit it, but she was actually glad that he took so much pleasure from something as simple as her naked flesh. Were all men like this? Her round ass slipped out of her skirt as she readjusted her position, and he looked more than pleased with this new development. As a result, she was a little bit surprised when he told her to stand up and turn around.

"Why?" she asked, wiping her mouth. Her heart was fluttering in her chest. She still couldn't believe she was here, and wondered what Steph would make of it if she knew what her friend was up to.

"Do it," the man ordered.

She bounced to her feet with more eagerness than was probably appropriate. He seemed to make a note of this as he turned around so that she was facing the wall. Chips of paint were peeling from the cement. She clasped the handrail in front of her, which was cool to the touch, as he began hiking up her skirt.

"Wait, what are you doing?" she asked.

Suddenly, her clitoris was being toyed with by prying fingers. She bit her lip as a digit slipped between the folds of her moist cunny, and she was all too aware of the calluses on his fingers as two more slid inside her. She tightened her grip over the rail as he toyed with her, bracing herself for the inevitable.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked suddenly, his fingers still lodged inside her.

She glanced at him from the periphery of her vision and shook her head.

"Shame," came the response. "I would've liked to have been the one to make you a woman. Who was it? One of those pissant boyfriends of yours? Well, at least now I have the chance to show you what sex with a real man is like."

All of a sudden, she was dreading what came next. This was only her second time having sex, after all. Who wouldn't be scared, given the circumstances?

"I don't think I'm ready," she whispered, feeling like a coward.

He grunted in amusement. She felt the man withdraw from her, and then she was face to face with the evidence of her arousal: three fingers, soaked with her own juices.

"Oh, but I think you are, darlin'," he gloated.

He grasped her stockings and, without ceremony, tore a wide hole in them.

"Hey!" she complained.

Then, brusquely, her panties were pushed aside. She gasped as the head of his penis touched the entrance of her sex. She prayed that it wouldn't hurt, but before she knew it, the fullness of his cock was prying open her entrance. All of her fears were compounded as he started shifting for a better angle. His cock stabbed forwards but missed its mark.

He swore in frustration, before whispering, "Where are you now ...?" and she could only assume he meant her pussy because the next moment he rasped, "There you are," and at last he found his target. Her cunt quivered as his cock slipped into her with surprising ease; it clenched and then widened to accommodate him. "Oh my God, you're so fucking tight," he sighed into her scalp, securing his arms around her.

Erin gasped. The fullness she felt was like nothing she had experienced before. It was all warmth and sublime smoothness, and it couldn't be more different from Matt's.

She cried out. He hushed her with a hand over her mouth.

"There, there, sweetheart," he cooed. She felt every inch of his cock as he pulled out and drove it into her again. However, his movements remained slow and sensuous, as if he was simply enjoying the act of being with her, which was nothing like Matt's frantic, impetuous love-making. Soon, however, they settled into a steady rhythm.

In fact, nothing about this was like her experience with Matt. For one, she was terrified of this man. Matt was like an old sweater, familiar and comfortable, easy to slip on when the night was cold and dark. He made her supremely happy, despite his flaws.

But secondly, and perhaps more shockingly, there was an odd hunger overtaking her. She had trouble understanding it, but her tummy glowed with an inner heat as he began fucking her in earnest. She noticed things about him, such as the ripple of muscle in his arm, the huskiness of his voice, the masculine earthiness of his smell. Try as she might to hold onto them, her reservations were slowly slipping from her grasp. The thought of surrendering to this man was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

It was so, so different. Nevertheless, she allowed herself to succumb to her budding lust.

Gradually, as her feelings of arousal increased, her moans followed suit. With a yank, he tore her panties from her hips. He stuffed the damp material into her mouth, and ran his coarse hands over the flesh of her small, perky tits which bounced up and down as she was fucked. She whimpered pathetically as her nipples were teased and twisted; he sniggered at her discomfort and continued to grind himself slowly into her sex, his elongated shaft gaining easy entry into her soaking pussy from behind, all while using his larger bulk to keep her trapped. He was working to exploit her youthful body with the vigour of a man half his age.

He's using me.

The thought occurred to her but failed to rouse a reaction. Instead, she spread her feet wider apart to grant him better access. A low growl was the only indication that he acknowledged or appreciated the gesture. His nails dug into her hips leaving painful scratch marks in her flesh.

The dangerous old man closed a hand over her neck, squeezing it, and whispered into her ear, "Be a nice young lady and don't make too much noise, okay? Can you nod for me? Nod for me, honey. Do it." Meekly, she glanced at him over her shoulder and nodded; he quickly intercepted her exposed ear and neck and set to sloppily devouring them both. The sticky texture of his tongue running over her skin made her shiver with disgust, and she squirmed, which only seemed to spur him on. His hips jumped forward, crushing her breasts against the wall as his hardened penis invaded the mound beneath her miniskirt.

Her pussy squelched as he rammed into her. That her body was so sensitive to the touch, like a livewire, was both disturbing and intensely erotic at the same time. She moaned helplessly as the warmth of their copulation spread like wildfire over her body, as she was used like a little back alley slut by this grown man. Her breathing became faster and more ragged. She closed her eyes as the pleasure flowed through her and let her mind go blank. She found her body taking on a will of its own as this old man, this stranger, fucked her aching cunt with an animalistic ferocity.

"Do you like that, huh? Are you gonna come for me, sweetness?"

She wanted to tell him to fuck off, but instead she tried not to cry out as another wave of warmth engulfed her. What the hell is wrong with me? she wondered, not for the first time that night.

Soon, the old man's pace quickened. "Oh, oh, fuck - I'm coming," he gasped.

In an instant, the doubts disappeared. And in its place was left a single motive that seemed to push everything else out of her mind, replacing it with a clawing, primal, raw desire.

Do it, you filthy old bastard, came the whisper from this other voice. Come inside me. Come inside my little teen pussy. Fuck!

***

Stan was on cloud nine.

Buried balls deep in this girl, he couldn't believe his luck. It was almost like taking candy from a child. He watched with a sadistic delight as her ass jiggled with his every thrust. Her limbs were beginning to shake and her molten sex was squeezing around the length of his swollen cock. Her head fell back onto his shoulder with her face screwed up in a look that was a mixture of agony and helpless pleasure as if she knew what was coming: "Ooooohhhh ..."