Writing It Down

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age; there is no underage sex in any of my stories.

Disclaimer: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

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The rain came down in sheets, limiting Becky's visibility. She was grateful her father had passed along his 'Rain-X philosophy' when they'd worked on her truck together, but even with the window treatment, the blades of her windshield wipers were working overtime. The heavy cloud cover made the late afternoon quite dark indeed. The diminutive girl was negotiating the streets of Baylor Lake, Louisiana with caution.

Becky had been soaked, running from Gilbert Hall to her truck. The umbrella had only kept the rain from her face; her sweater and jeans were thoroughly soaked. Her socks and tennis shoes squished as she pushed on the clutch to shift gears.

All she wanted to do was get home, get out of her wringing wet clothes, and soak in her whirlpool tub. She planned to light some candles, turn off the lights in the bathroom, lay back and soak in the hot, soothing waters.

After luxuriating in the semi-darkness for a while, she would bring her hands down and begin to slowly stroke her flesh. She would bring herself to orgasm, then once again luxuriate in the suds.

Her truck's powerful engine grumbled, as if complaining. With a hot bath calling to her, Becky di want to jam the accelerator to the floor, get home in a hurry. But the relentless rain and the flooded streets necessitated caution.

The F100 Ford pickup truck had been stripped down and rebuilt by father and daughter until very little of the original hideous rusted shell of a truck remained. Even the chassis had been modified to strengthen it, to handle the 1999 Ford Mustang engine that sat underneath the hood, handle the horsepower that powerful beast could churn out.

=.==.===.==.=

The day after Rebecca Meadows's graduation from Lloyd M. Bentsen High School in Sweet Oak, Texas, Clyde Meadows, Becky's estranged father made a drunken appearance. Weaving and staggering and slurring his words, Clyde whooped and told Becky he was so proud of her, his baby girl, a high school graduate.

"So, what time's the graduation?" he asked.

"Six o'clock," Becky said.

"Six? Oh, okay, so we got time go get something to eat. Where you want to eat?" Clyde smiled happily, checking his watch with one eye closed.

"Six o'clock, yesterday," Becky said, shoving her father out of the trailer she and her mother and two older brothers lived in. "Yesterday, all right? Yesterday!"

Becky's mother went outside. Becky could hear her father's whining voice, could hear her mother's tight voice. Becky went to her room. She shut the door and lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

A moment later, the expected knock came. Becky sat up and called out.

"He's really sorry," her mother started.

"Mom, he's always sorry," Becky snapped. "He's always sorry. It'll never happen again. This time he means it, he swears. Well, you God damned right it'll never happen again because I've had it with him. He can go to hell for all I care."

With that, Becky pushed past her mother. She saw her father standing in the living room, looking defeated. She stomped past him and left the trailer.

Jumping into her truck, Becky drove to the trailer of Todd Moore, her boyfriend. His mother's car was in front, so she knew they couldn't fool around; Becky actually shivered when she thought of fooling around with Todd.

They'd not actually had sex, but they'd come pretty close. He had used his mouth on her pussy and she'd used her mouth on his cock. She'd even swallowed all the sperm that Todd had pumped out of his cock. There was a lot of it and she'd swallowed it all.

Luanne Holmes, a classmate of hers had held court in the locker room of Lloyd M. Bentsen and had announced to all that sperm tasted terrible. Becky had not thought Todd's sperm had tasted great, but she certainly wouldn't call it terrible. And knowing that it brought pleasure to her man made it all worth it.

Becky knocked on the door of Todd's trailer, but there was no answer. She knocked again, then tried the knob.

"Hello? Anyone home?" Becky called out.

The four foot ten inch girl skittered down the hall to Todd's room. The door was open but Todd was not in his room. Becky went in, determined to wait for him.

"Oh wow!" Becky said, seeing the box for a brand new laptop on the floor next to Todd's bed.

The new laptop was on his desk, large screen lighted. Becky walked over and looked at the screen. Pushing her glasses up her button nose, she began to read what Todd had written.

**An hour later, Abby called out that she was leaving. She still sounded quite irritated with him. Todd lingered in bed for thirty minutes more; daylight was just beginning to break. Then with a grunt, he got up and went into the hall bathroom.

Sliding the door shut, he dropped his briefs to the floor. Steeling himself for the blast of cold water that was sure to come, Todd started the shower.

His cock was hard; he'd been thinking of Luanne's blonde pussy and big tits and hot wet mouth. He began to stroke his hard cock, imagining sliding his soapy cock between her wet, soapy breasts. With a grunt, he spurted his semen onto the shower wall. Finally, erection taken care of, Todd showered. **

Becky felt a heaviness in her heart; last night, Todd had said he loved her. But, reading his words; apparently he fantasized about Luanne, pleasured himself to thoughts of Luanne, not thoughts of Becky. Becky continued to read what he'd typed out.

**He toweled himself off, then padded, still nude, into the bedroom. He froze; Becky was sitting at his desk, reading his latest entry. She had her shorts unzipped and was rubbing herself as she read his words.

"Like my ass, huh?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

"Huh? Uh, hey, how'd you get in here?" Todd asked.

"I knocked, but no one answered. When I tried the door, it was open," Becky admitted, getting to her feet.

She put her glasses on the desk, then allowed her shorts and panties to fall to the floor. Her tee shirt and cotton bra followed, fluttering to the floor to lay in a heap.

"I uh, that's got to hurt, right?" she asked, nodding toward the computer screen. "I mean, you're pretty big."

"It, yeah, I mean, shit, I don't know, but it probably does," Todd stammered, cock causing his towel to tent out. **

"Thought you was nude when you left your bathroom, dumb ass," Becky thought, continuing to read Todd's words. "But now you got a towel on?"

**"The... Vaseline," she said, reading his screen through severely squinted eyes. "Go get the Vaseline."

He dropped his soggy towel to the floor of his bedroom and scampered back into his bathroom. He found the nearly empty jar of bargain brand petroleum jelly and carried it back to his bedroom.

Becky was on his unmade bed, on her knees. Her shoulders were pinned to the bed, her small hands were pulling her sweet bubble cheeks apart.

Todd dipped a finger into the slimy jelly and knelt on the bed behind his girlfriend. Both shuddered as he ran the greased fingertip around her tightly clenched rosebud. Then he used a little pressure. His finger pressed past her clenched flesh and entered her anus.

He could feel the tight ring as it clamped down on his finger. He could feel the smooth flesh, feel the warmth of her flesh as he pushed into her.

"Oh," she moaned quietly.

"I'm hurting you?" Todd asked.

"No, no, that just feels, oh, God. I mean, when you were licking my, when you put your tongue up there, but this, oh!" Becky moaned and grunted.

Todd had his finger all the way inside of her rectum. He twisted the finger in an ever widening circle, then slowly pulled the finger out. Then, when just the tip of his finger was inside of her, he drove the finger back in. Becky let out a small 'oof' and shuddered.

He greased up his index finger and wormed the index and middle fingers into her. Her small hands continued to pull on her buttocks. Her buttocks had white marks where her fingers pulled hard on her soft flesh.

Todd twisted and pumped the two fingers in and out of her buttocks. Then he grabbed the jar of petroleum jelly in his other hand and brought the mouth of the jar to his hard, throbbing cock.

Becky was grunting and moaning, eyes tightly shut, mouth open. A thin line of drool dribbled out of her mouth, wetting Todd's blanket.

Her eyes shot open and her mouth opened wide when the blunt head of Todd's cock pressed into her greasy anus.

"I, wait, oh God, Todd!" Becky cried out as the blunt head forced into her anus, pushing past her sphincter.

There was a flash of white hot pain. His fingers had been slightly uncomfortable at first but that discomfort had given away to pleasure.

But Todd's cock was much larger than his fingers. He paid no attention to her protests; his cock was in a warm, tight grip. Her muscles were attempting to force the intruder out and he could feel every pulse, every ripple as she tried to expel his cock from her bowels.

'Oh God, oh God," he grunted and loosed a torrent of sperm deep into her guts. **

Vulgar. The words were vulgar. Todd was a great writer, or he would be a great writer one day; writing poems that would describe passion, romance. There was nothing romantic about these vile words.

He was describing stuffing his fingers, his dick up her butt. And he was describing her as a nasty slut, a dirty, nasty slut that wanted him to stick his cock up her butt. After reading about him masturbating to thoughts of some other bit titted slut, she wanted him to use her.

She lashed out; it was all just too much. First, her father not going to her graduation, then showing up drunk and stupid this morning, then her mother's trying, again, to make excuses for her father's failings, again. And now this. Her new boyfriend, she had even said she loved him, her new boyfriend just seeing her as nothing more than a slut.

Her punch cracked the screen. Becky actually marveled at the nearly perfect spider web her small fist had created on the white screen.

Then she heard a door. A moment later, her boyfriend, her former boyfriend entered the room.

She slapped his face. She moved to kick him in his balls, but he moved before her tennis shoe could land, so she only caught him on his thigh.

"Your father's very hurt," was Imelda Meadow's statement when a furious Becky returned.

"Good!" Becky screamed. "Now he knows how it feels. What'd I get for my birthday? Nothing. What'd I get for Christmas? Nothing. What'd I get for graduation? You got it. Nothing. He's hurt? Well, boo hoo; he'll get over it. I had to."

That night, Becky decided to go to Scoops, a local ice cream parlor. They had the best caramel sundaes anywhere and she was in the mood to drown her sorrows. She arrived at the same time that Rory Smith, a former classmate also reached Scoops. For as long as Becky could remember, she'd had a crush on the tall, muscular cherub faced blond. And he was there without Luanne Holmes, his girlfriend.

They sat together; Rory even paid for Becky's sundae. Their conversation was about Rory's favorite topic, Rory. Becky did not notice, though; she was enamored with Rory anyway.

They left Becky's truck at Scoops and Rory drove them to Browner Park. He parked away from the street lamp and they climbed into the back seat of his Lexus.

Becky almost giggled when she saw Rory's cock. Fully engorged, Rory's cock was a puny four inches. Todd, who was shorter than Rory, skinnier than Rory, had packed a fat cock that was at least six inches in length.

Rory grabbed Becky's breasts, squeezing them painfully. He slobbered all over her nipples, making odd mewling sounds.

Losing her virginity hurt. Rory was sickened by the sight of Becky's blood and lost his erection. The suggestion that they do sixty nine horrified Rory; he wasn't about to put his mouth on her pussy.

It was a few days after that fiasco, or series of fiascos that Imelda told her daughter she had a visitor. Becky secretly hoped it was Todd; her anger had cooled. After all, what he had written wasn't really that bad.

"Oh. It's you," Becky said, seeing Clyde sitting in the living room.

"I uh, yeah, it's me," Clyde agreed.

He then showed her a white poker chip. Becky pushed her large glasses up her nose and squinted at the token.

"It, it's a desire chip," Clyde explained. "I uh, I, after you, after I fuck, I mean, after I messed up, I still can't believe I missed your graduation, baby girl, I mean, God, you know, day you was born, I couldn't believe God had given me such a beautiful, perfect girl."

Becky looked at his face. She could see the tears swimming, threatening to spill out. She could feel her hardened heart beginning to melt, so looked at the chip again.

"Anyway, that night, I called the hot line," Clyde said.

"Hot line?" Becky asked.

"Alcoholics Anonymous," Clyde said. "It's this eight hundred number, and I called them and said I needed help."

"Oh," Becky said, not knowing what else to say.

"And I, I been going to these meetings, been listening to these people, I uh, anyway, last night, they asked if anyone had a desire to stop drinking and I got up and got this chip," Clyde said. "I, I wanted to get one first night I went, but I, I was too ashamed get up, even though I really wanted to get one. Well, last night I said 'Fuck it' I mean, I said 'Forget this stupid ass ego shit and get up and go get your desire chip, damn it.' And I did and I want you to have this."

Becky gingerly took the plastic chip and studied it. There was a simple 'AA' imprinted on the face of the chip. She then gave her father a hug. She did give him a sniff but could smell no alcohol on his breath.

Becky put the chip on her desk and prayed to God that this time, this time, her father meant it. She prayed that this time he would stick to his promises. After all, as far as she knew, this was the first time he'd actually gone to Alcoholics Anonymous, tried to get help, instead of trying to white-knuckle' it himself.

A few days later, Becky drove to the bus station. The large bus that would take Todd to DeGarde, Louisiana was ready to depart. Becky waved at the large vehicle, hoping Todd would see her. She mouthed 'I love you' as the bus pulled out, then she followed the bus to I-10.

That evening, having nothing better to do, Becky decided to go to a movie. She didn't even know what was playing; she just didn't want to sit in her bedroom, didn't want to sit in the living room and watch the 'Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills' or whatever it was that her mother was immersed in.

The arrow was green for Becky to turn left. She turned left, heard the scream of brakes, and then felt herself tumbling violently.

She had a concussion. Her glasses were smashed and those had been her spare glasses; she'd broken the others nearly a year earlier. The truck was a complete loss.

"They had to cut it open to get you out," Becky's father told her. "Thank God you had your seat belt on."

Clyde's AA sponsor loaned Becky his deceased wife's car, until Becky could get her own. She didn't even know this man, a large, bald headed man that constantly cleared his throat, even while talking, but he was willing to let Becky drive his car.

"And, you and me? We're going work on this project been meaning get to," Clyde said excitedly.

"What is this?" Becky asked, seeing a rusted greenish gray pickup truck sitting behind Clyde's trailer.

"This? This is an F one hundred," Clyde said happily. "That was the first car I ever owned; God! I loved that thing! Don't know why I ever got rid of it."

"Okay," Becky said, seeing nothing but an ugly rust bucket.

But together, she and her father tore down the monstrosity. He showed her how to sand away the rust, showed her how to patch the spots that had rusted straight through the metal. The engine was a total wash; it had sat, unused for too long and the elements had corroded it. They found an engine out of a totaled 1999 Mustang and tore the engine down. They replaced what needed to be replaced, upgraded what needed to be upgraded and soon had an engine that looked dangerous, just sitting on the tarp.

And, every day, Clyde was sober. His hands were steady, his speech clear, and his step straight.

Father and daughter applied two coats of primer to the restored body. Then they picked out a dark blue, not whatever the previous color might have been. Three coats of the blue went down on the body; Becky was getting pretty handy with the air compressor. Ten coats of black lacquer went over the glossy blue; they even blacked out the chrome bumpers, chrome rims and chrome dual exhaust pipes. Ten more coats of clear lacquer went down, and finally they put in the windows, tinting them to the darkest legal tint. It depended on where you stood; the truck was blue. No, it's black. No, no, it's definitely blue.

"Uh, in other words (ah ahem mm) it uh, it's almost a (ah ahem mm) a good thing that drunk totaled your daughter's car (ah ahem mm)?" George, Clyde's sponsor asked as he examined the final product. "Like that (ah ahem mm) bed liner (ah ahem mm)."

"Mr. George, thank you so much for letting me use your car," Becky said, handing him the keys to his deceased wife's sedan.

Then she hugged the large man.

"And thank you for getting my Daddy sober," she whispered.

"Aw, Baby (ah ahem mm) God's one got your daddy sober," George smiled, squeezing her in a smothering hug.

This truck was a stick shift. Clyde had to teach his daughter how to drive; laughing that since the state of Texas took his license, he had to tell her, he couldn't show her. The first time Becky let out the clutch, the tires chirped loudly and lifted the front wheels off the ground for a millisecond.

"Whoa!" Becky let out an excited squeal.

"Uh huh, don't be doing that every time, hear?" Clyde also laughed, delighted in his daughter's happiness.

On the campus of the University of Louisiana at DeGarde, the truck was quite noticeable. Becky Meadows was just another fresh faced freshman, but the truck really stood out. Even her height of 4'10" did not stand out; many of the Cajun girls were as short as or shorter than Becky. The large 32E chest wasn't an anomaly either. The waist length brown hair also seemed to be the norm around the campus; many girls actually had hair that reached their ankles.

Becky wanted to find Todd Moore; Abby Moore, Todd's mother had said he was still a student at U.L.D. But the first week was spent getting acclimated to the campus, her schedule, her dormitory, her roommate, the cafeteria.

(The communal shower was an eye-opener. Becky had never showered with another naked girl showering less than two feet away from her. And there were nude girls of all shapes, sizes and colors. Some were pretty, some were worth sneaking a peek at. And a few were grotesque.)

Becky glanced around the large, noisy cafeteria, but never did see Todd. She looked around the library, but never did see Todd. She glanced up and down the halls of her five classes, and there was no sign of Todd.

"Why you don't just go over to Sharp Shire? That's the dorm for the guys," Nadine Brown, Becky's roommate suggested when Becky voiced her frustrations.

There were a few young men lolling about outside. They perked up when the cute girl approached, but none of them knew Todd Moore.

"A freshman? Why would I waste one minute of my time hanging out with a lowly freshman?" one shirtless youth sneered as he flexed and posed for Becky's benefit.

"I'm a freshman; so, I won't waste any more of your precious time," Becky snapped, walking into the lobby of the dormitory.