by James Crow
He pulled me from the cab and trampled the rapeseed down until a small circle had formed. He told me to stand in the middle of it. I did, my face held up to the sun. It was glorious.
‘You came easy,’ he said.
I didn’t know what he meant at first, thought he meant back in the cubicle.
‘I mean, you jump in any truck that stops?’
‘Yes. I mean no. I mean, you’re fucking hot. I’d be crazy not to.’
‘Lose the dress,’ he said, and I wished I knew his name.
I lost my school dress the next day, tucked behind that tree on the dusty path. Or more precisely, my entire school uniform. Everything off. Even my socks. And I dared myself to go stand on the path in the sun. And I did. For at least a minute, squeezing at my tits as the sun bore down on them. No one came. No one saw me. The thrill was amazing. I couldn’t believe I’d never thought of doing this before. I ducked back behind the tree and pressed myself against the rough bark, one eye on the dusty path. And Mr Boots was suddenly in sight, a little earlier than yesterday. He’d only just missed seeing me naked. Knowing that made the pain in my middle throb. He kept on coming and I kept on rubbing against the bark, pressed all of me against it. And when he walked past the tree, I changed position, watched him go, and the urge to step out from the tree was so strong that I did it, stepped into the sunshine. I wasn’t quite on the path but I was in full sight, my nakedness lit up bright as day, and I fingered myself, wondering what would happen if Mr Boots glanced over his shoulder. But he didn’t. Just kept on walking and I’d spread my legs and stood there fingering myself until I came, diving back behind that tree just as soon as the kink left my cunt. It makes me smile every time I think about it.
I tried to remember what underwear I was wearing. Plain white knickers; they wouldn’t show through the dress. And my red bra. Scarlet for the harlot. I wondered if hot guy would have a big cock.
I peeled the dress off over my head and dropped it to the trampled rapeseed.
‘And the bra.’ He came to stand in front of me.
I lost the bra. He moved slightly, taking his shadow off my skin, the sun warm on my tits.
‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty-nine,’ I told him.
He grabbed my hair and kissed me hard. His other hand squeezed at a tit then shoved down my pants, fingers pushing through my bush.
‘You don’t shave.’
‘No.’
He pushed me to the floor.
‘Take them off.’
I did, and opened my legs for him.
Just like I’d opened my legs for Mr Boots.
Next day, I’d stayed behind that tree with my knickers around my ankles, rubbing at my clit and timing the big O, so that I’d come as he passed right by. And I had. I’d shuddered and jerked and came so hard I blew snot bubbles. Mr Boots stomped on by, oblivious. I panted after him. Sucked my fingers clean as I watched him go. I knew then that I’d be seeing his cock sometime soon.
He didn’t show the day after. I’d hung around in the shade of the trees for more than an hour and I remember the tears. I was heartbroken, thought I might never see him again. I knew it was crazy. But I swore that if I did see him again, I’d show myself to him. I thought he deserved that.
The following day we’d had rain and thunder. I’d been thinking all day about how I would show myself to Mr Boots and how he would react. How he might touch me. How he might be my first cock. And as the time neared for the school bell to ring, I was sick and dizzy with nerves. I’d thrown up in the loos, and waited there for the grounds to clear before I headed for the rain-soaked fields. My tree smelled good, all damp and fresh and earthy. I got naked. Took off everything, including my socks, then put my coat back on. It was a parka with a furry hood. I didn’t fasten it up, just enjoyed walking back and forth, the cool air nipping at my skin, the damp grass beneath my feet so cold. Everything was a thrill. I just hoped and prayed that Mr Boots showed up.
Mr Boots did show up. He too was wearing a coat. His boots went slap on the wet path.
I peeped around the tree and worked my fingers as he came down the path, but held off from the big O. I was going to show him. I wished to God Almighty that I wouldn’t puke on his boots. Not that I believed anyone was upstairs. I always knew I’d be going to Hell anyway. Mother told me enough. But it was always best to believe when you wanted something.
Hot guy’s tongue pushed me open and licked right up my middle. My hands went to his hair and I pushed back at him. He sucked my cunt lips into his mouth, rammed home a good three fingers and fucked me fast. I was about to come when he stopped. Got up on his knees. Opened his jeans. Brought out his cock. Thick and veined, just like I’d hoped it would be.
‘Touch yourself,’ he said.
I lifted my knees and spread myself, ran a finger down through the wetness, then pushed it into my ass. Right in. And I tugged at my own sweet hole.
‘Fuck,’ he said.
‘Fuck me,’ I said.
I was so close to coming when I stepped out from that tree with my parka flapping open. Mr Boots hadn’t got very far when I opened my legs and slapped myself hard, the sound so loud on the damp air.
He stopped and turned. And I stood there, showing him everything, touching myself.
He walked to me a lot slower than I expected. His eyes were on my moving fingers. On my tits. Back to my fingers.
Stop that, he said and I took my hand away. He asked how old I was. I told him eighteen. He looked at my tits, then between my legs. He asked where my clothes were and I pointed to the tree. He told me to get them back on, so I went behind the tree and he followed me and watched as I dressed.
He said I was asking for trouble. Said I could get raped, or worse. Said I should never do such a thing ever again.
He asked where I lived and said I should go home, that he’d follow me, make sure I was safe. So I walked up the damp path with Mr Boots trailing behind all the way home.
‘You’re a dirty bitch,’ hot guy said.
‘Yes,’ I said and added another finger to my asshole.
I saw his lip twitch. Licked my lips at him.
He pulled my hand away and fucked me. Lifted my legs over his shoulders and fucked me hard.
It was fucking heaven.
Chapter Three
‘I’m Drew,’ he said, after he came.
‘Dani,’ I offered, before sucking his cock clean. I think I loved him right there. Dani and Drew had a neat fucking ring to it.
He took his phone from his pocket and snapped off pictures as I cleaned him. Snapped off pictures of my tits and between my legs.
He pulled me to my feet, cupped my tits, told me they’d be perfect for tying. He went to the back of the pickup, rummaged through a big tool bag, came back with thin rope and a craft knife. He asked if I’d ever had my tits tied.
‘Never,’ I lied. Tying up my tits was a favourite pastime. Tying up my tits and going for a drive with my shirt open. But a guy had never done it for me.
He told me to lean forward. ‘Let them hang, easier to tie.’
He bound them tight. Circled each tit four times then pulled the two together so they jutted out. They went dark straight away. ‘That’s nice,’ I told him.
He told me to put my dress back on.
‘Where to now?’ I asked, back in the truck, my bra and knickers on the back seat.
My tits looked bigger than the handful they really were, nipples poking through the fabric of my dress. He touched a palm gently to them and sparks flew through me.
‘I like you,’ he said, and told me I had big balls.
‘I just like a dare, and I like you too.’
‘Hitch your dress up,’ he said, ‘I want to see your legs as I drive.’
Doctor Mort wanted the same. Lift your dress up so I can see your legs, Danielle.
I’d told Mother I had a sore knee. Really bad pain. Even though it looked perfectly healthy. I moaned until she did something about it
and made an appointment with Doctor Mort.
The month before I’d been chesty. Doctor Mort had tapped his fingers to my back and chest, a thrill I wanted more of, although I knew I wouldn’t get away with pretending to be chesty, so I feigned the sore knee.
I was on the padded bed. He lifted my skirt above the knee but I tugged it higher when Mother wasn’t looking.
Doctor Mort looked closely at my knee, twisted my leg this way and that, and I must have said ow and ouch at the right times because he kept doing it, and when he lifted my leg, I caught him glancing at my knickers. And that made me really hot in the face. I sobbed then, touching my knee in false agony. Touching my hand to his big warm fingers.
Doctor Mort helped me from the table and asked me to walk back and forth. Hold your skirt above your knees, so I can see, he said. And I held it as high as I dared.
I’d been mortified at what happened next. I suspect this may be Perthes’ disease, he told my mother. Nothing to get alarmed about, we just need to send her for some x-rays of her hips to see what’s going on.
He explained that Perthes’ disease affected the hip bones, and made itself known via pain in the knee. I remember crying again. I didn’t know what x-rays were. I almost confessed to making it all up, but couldn’t bring myself to.
We were at the hospital before I knew it. Mother wasn’t allowed in the x-ray room. The woman in there was nice. She had a ponytail. Her name badge said she was called Annie. Her breath smelled of mints. She told me to take off my skirt and knickers and then helped me onto a big cold table. She parted my legs a little, told me to keep very still and placed a heavy rubber cup over my privates, then moved the overhead machine into place above it. I remember the pressure of that heavy piece of rubber like it was yesterday. When Annie did that, parted my legs and put it there, placed it there so gently into place, I wanted her to do it all again.
Annie explained what x-rays were, how they’d pass through my body. The rubber cup protects your foof from radiation, she said. The thought made me scared. But it didn’t hurt. Not at all. I cried with relief after.
My knee made a miraculous recovery. I knew I couldn’t take that little joke any further.
Drew’s hand came between my legs as he drove. He grabbed my pubes and tugged.
‘This’ll have to go,’ he said.
‘Yes.’
He gave it a real hard tug. I yelped and we laughed.
‘You say yes a lot,’ Drew said.
‘Yes,’ I said.
I hunched my ass up and pulled my dress up around my waist and touched myself. One hand to my clit, the other pressing against my bound tits. They were hurting real nice.
‘You’re a dirty fucker,’ Drew said.
‘Yes.’
I enjoyed the ride. The scenery. Fields of sheep now. Glad the smell of rapeseed was gone. We came to a country park by a river. Some kayaking event was going off, lots of people.
Drew parked up by an ice cream van and fetched sugar cones with raspberry sauce.
He asked me where I lived and what I did for a living. It seemed a bit late for small talk. But I told him the truth, that I lived with my shit of a mother and my job was packing biscuits seven hours a day.
‘I’m a handyman, work for myself, always busy.’
‘So, you’re the guy who services housewives after servicing their boilers?’
‘Yes,’ he said, and I thought I was rubbing off on him.
He looked at me then, licking his ice cream. ‘Have you ever streaked, you know, ran naked through a crowd?’
‘No,’ I lied. Who hasn’t fucking streaked?
‘Show me your tits.’
I carefully lifted my bound tits over the top of my strappy dress. They felt nice and tight and were a lovely dark purple. Drew touched his sugar cone to my nipple and the cold ice cream made me shudder. He kept it there, twisting the cone, so I did the same with my cone to the other nipple, and thought about his cock again. I wanted that cock again.
We finished our cones. And I sat there in the pickup with my tits out, sticky with ice cream.
Drew seemed to be doing some thinking. I hoped he wanted to fuck again. I hoped it would be soon.
‘Put your tits away, you’re going to streak for me,’ he said.
He pointed out a stone memorial set back from the river and about a hundred metres away from us. I was to walk over to the memorial and get behind it. Most of the people between here and there were watching the river. When Drew raised his arm out of the window, I was to take my dress off and walk back to the pickup. Not run – walk. ‘Maybe no one will even notice,’ he said.
‘The guy in the ice cream van will get an eyeful,’ I said.
‘Bully for him.’
‘Yes.’
‘You dare?’
‘I dare.’
I made to get out of the pickup but Drew grabbed my wrist and pulled me to him. The kiss that I wasn’t expecting made me want to bite him. The smell of him, so close, his beautiful sweat. I sighed into his mouth.
‘Go,’ he said, ‘on my mark.’
‘Yes.’
The walk over to the monument was over in a blink, despite taking my time, sussing out the people. A few men turned their heads as I passed by, eyes on my jutting chest, my legs, back to my chest, the usual drill. It made me smile to imagine their faces when they saw me naked, tits all purple and tied tight.
I didn’t get into position straight away. I hung around in front of the memorial, scanning those people nearest, all of them watching the river. I was sweating now, the sun so hot on me. I went through it in my mind. Get in position, out of sight behind the memorial. Watch for Drew’s mark. Pull dress off. Focus on Drew. Walk. That’s it. Easy. And then he’d fuck me. And I’d bite him.
Uncle Kev was my first bite. I was taking my A-levels when he came to stay for six weeks. Uncle Kev had always been around. He was old but fit for his age. Unlike Mother.
Tuesdays and Thursdays were his half-days. He’d come home at lunchtime and head for the shower and I’d always be hanging around when he came out all damp with a towel around his waist. One day, I was so horny I decided to get in line, stood outside the bathroom door with just a towel around me, dangerously close to showing my nipples.
Uncle Kev almost choked when he opened that door.
Sorry to keep you waiting, he’d said and brushed past me and I’d followed him into his room. You shouldn’t be around me like that, he said with his bare back to me. Please leave, he added, and I thought his hands were in his towel.
I’d wanted to jump on his back, bite his neck, like I’d seen the bites on Mother’s neck after she brought men home. A woman needs to get fucked, she told me. Getting fucked makes life worth living.
I only wished someone would fuck me.
Like what around you? I asked his glistening back.
Half-dressed, he said.
I loosened the towel and it dropped to the floor. I could tell he’d heard it drop. I’m no longer half-dressed, I told him. Is that okay, Uncle Kev?
He told me it was about time I stopped calling him Uncle. I was too old for that nonsense. Kev would do.
He picked something up from the bed and his hands were back in the towel. His right arm started to move and the towel fell away from his waist. His ass was firm, black hairs at the tops of his thighs. I wanted to lick that ass. Bite it. I wished I could see what he was doing and my wish was granted when he turned a little to his right.
I still remember how hard my heart was pounding. That I would get to see my first cock – in the flesh. But no, it had been one of his socks that he’d picked up off the bed and now it was over his cock and he was jacking off into it.
He took one quick glance at my tits then looked away. Shivers ran through me and he grunted when he came. I ran to my room and came as soon as I touched myself, imagining biting down on that cock-filled sock. That night, when the house was silent, I’d crept to the laundry basket and found that sock, tiptoed to th
e toilet with it and had my first experience of spunk. It had dried all crackly. I sniffed at it. It smelled like Mr Tinley. I touched my tongue to it, but there wasn’t much taste at all. I’d almost returned the sock to the laundry basket when a much better idea presented itself. I took the sock to bed, sniffed at it some more and rubbed it all over me as I played with myself. After I’d came, I pressed the sock between my legs and slept with it there.
Two days later the same routine. Uncle Kev came home all sweaty, headed for the shower, and when he came out I was standing there in my bathing costume, of all things. His eyes went to my tits, to between my legs. He brushed past me. I followed as far as his bedroom doorway.
He picked up his sock, fumbled with it with his back to me, started working that fine muscled arm, and I slipped my hand inside my bather.
Dani, he said, still working that arm.
Yes?
You know we must never touch.
Yes.
And then he turned around – all the way around. The towel dropped to the floor and he pumped away at that cock-filled sock.
I remember moaning, my legs going weak. And that made him pull the sock off.
His cock was so pretty. I collapsed against the doorframe, my fingers frantic inside my bather, and he came. He spunked up all over the carpet. Something inside me went off. I ran at him, snarling like an animal, teeth bared. He’d turned away and I’d bitten down on that fine ass of his.
He dragged me to the bathroom, pushed me into the shower and I stood there red-faced and panting for breath as the cold water froze me half to death. I told him I wanted to suck his pretty cock. He’d called me a crazy bitch, shook his head and walked away. But I knew he’d let me soon.
I wiped the sweat from my brow, glanced over to the pickup. I could just make out the shape of Drew, his arms folded. The crowds of people were mostly facing the river. Now seemed a good a time as any. I moved into position behind the memorial. No one could see me here. Apart from the guy in the ice cream van, but he wasn’t looking this way.
