PONY GIRL Part 1

The stars were just beginning to appear in the evening sky. They came out one by one, like shy virgins, and then twinkled magnificently in the clear deep dark blue of the early evening.
Lena hurried from the farmhouse with her milk pails in her hands. Her face was thrust into the dark heavy collar of her coat, and it scratched her soft cheek. The harsh words of her parents, screaming at each other, still rang in her ears, and it wasn’t until she was halfway across the yard that she looked up and saw the bright stars in the sky. Then she stopped and gazed at them, and wished on the first one she had seen for a better life.
She didn’t know any other kind of life except that which took place within the small confines of the little Iowa farm where she lived with her parents. Life had been better when her brother, Ret, had still lived with them. But he had grown up and gone away run away from the life of brutal words and harsh treatment that their father meted out to everyone on his land.
“You screaming bitch, you’re no better than a whore! You deserve to be treated like a whore!”
Lena turned and saw her father’s raised arm strike her mother to the floor through the lighted kitchen window. With a sob she turned again and hurried to the barn. She opened the big door and then closed it and went down the row of cows to Tess, her favorite cow.
Tess’ udders were heavy tonight and Tess mooed in great pain and pleasure as she saw Lena approaching with her milking pails. Lena had barely positioned the pail under Tess and placed her hands on the cow’s heavy tits when the milk began to come. Lena deftly directly the steaming hot stream into one pail, which quickly filled. Another pail was filled from the same udder, and then two more pails from the second udder.
She talked to the cow as she milked: “That’s it Tessie, girl. Feel better now? Didn’t you know I would come out here to milk you? You know I wouldn’t forget all about my Tessie.” She stroked the cow’s hot sweaty flanks and the cow turned to look at her with her big, wordless cow eyes. Lena imagined that the animal understood Lena’s own pain and sorrow. Every time she witnessed her father striking her mother she felt a sickness for which she knew no cure. She had been witnessing such scenes ever since she could remember. But now, as she approached puberty, the cruelty of her father toward her mother seemed to affect Lena’s sensitive spirit even more.
She was twelve years old and a very pretty girl, wholesome and healthy looking with a good clean, farm girl’s complexion: fair with a rosy blush on her cheeks from working outside, summer, winter, spring and fall.
She was well developed for a twelve-year-old, as so many farm girls are. Perhaps it was the environment in which she grew up, witnessing the farm animals in all the stages of their existence: from birth, infancy, mating, adulthood, and death. They kept pigs and chickens as well as cows on their farm, and there were four horses: two old plow horses which they had from the days when they had a horse drawn plow, and two beautiful stallions which her father kept for his own riding pleasure.
As she went down the line of milkcows, the barn filled with the warm soothing smell of fresh hot milk. Together with the smell of the hay in the loft, and the twinkling of the stars through the loft window, the barn seemed a world apart from the farmhouse across the yard. The barn was a place where Lena felt she could be alone, and dream.
Tonight Lena felt she had a lot to dream about. Tonight was a special night. She had gotten her very first period that very day. Now she was a woman, though the size and shape of her breasts and the shrinking of her waist had told her she was a woman for a few months now.
“If I am a woman, now,” she thought to herself, “I should have plans. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life on this farm, after all.” Thus ran her thoughts as she stooped under the cows’ bellies with her pail, and spoke to them soothingly. She liked the feel of her hands against their smooth full udders. And the hot milk splashing against the pail and hitting her hands made her laugh. She licked her hands off when she finished Linda, the brown cow, and moved on to Millie. She had special names for each one of them, and she spoke to them and told them of her dreams.
She was just starting on the last of them when she felt a cold blast of air at her back and she didn’t even have to turn around to sense that someone was standing behind her. Like an animal, the short hairs at the back of her neck told her of the man’s presence. She turned around. It was her father.
She just stared up at him. He was wearing his riding boots under his greatcoat. Although it was still spring, it was still very cold in the little northern Iowa country. There might still be more snow this year.
“Finish your work, child,” Roland Hanson said.
Lena turned back to Josie, a pretty dappled creature, but she could feel her father’s eyes on her back and this made her nervous. She gripped the cow’s tits clumsily and the milk squirted onto her feet, wetting her toes through her torn boots. Josie sensed Lena’s nervousness, and let out a pained moo and swatted her tail furiously. Lena grasped her harder.
One hoof shot out and the pail was lying on the barn floor, the new milk flowing over the hay.
“Stupid cunt!” shouted her father. The milk had splattered him too.
Lena kept milking furiously.
She got only half a bucket from Josie and then stood up.
“Are you going riding, Poppa?” Lena asked. She was bending over, counting the buckets of milk she had filled. Under her coat, her long breasts fell against her wool sweater.
Her father stood right in front of her and he put his hand under her coat and squeezed the pendulous breasts.
“What are you…?” Lena began. She had often been aware of him looking at her, these long winter months this year. But never before had he been so bold as to touch her.
“Shut up, cunt,” he said and put his big, strong, knobbed hand over her mouth, effectively gagging her.
“What…?” she tried to break away from him, but her struggles only made him grip her tighter. As if she was a package he was taking into town to mail, he picked her up under his arm and carried her in to a corner of the barn. He threw her down on the hay. He opened his greatcoat and Lena saw that he wore nothing underneath. She saw his huge erect genitalia which he seemed to be parading before her, for he just stood over her and let her look for a few moments, while he swung his cock a little and let it bounce on top of his balls.
She had seen the genitalia of all the animals on the farm before, but she had never seen the erect genitalia of a man.
Her father must have weighed 250 pounds. He was a big man who worked hard all year round and the work put muscles all over him, where city men have only flab. He fell on her now. She smelled the alcohol on his breath and tried to turn her face away from the loathsome smell. Harshly, he had pulled her wool sweater up over her breasts.
“Nice boobs,” he was muttering more to himself than to her. “Nice, nice boobies,” he was knocking them from side to side, batting at them and rubbing his unshaven chin in them.
One hand went down and pulled up her skirt and forced its way into her panties.
She tried to scream and move, but he held her tightly pinned, and his big knobby fingers forced their way between her tightly closed thighs.
“Fucking virgin tit-woman, fucking shrinking virgin,” he was muttering as he pinned her legs apart with his legs. Each of his legs was like a pillar and Lena knew now there was going to be no escape. She looked down and saw the huge reddened cock taking aim between her thighs and then he rammed his cock at her unwilling opening.
Her flesh tore and she tried to scream but he had his hand over her mouth. Straw, hay, pubic hair all got sucked in to her battered hole as he rammed her again. The first time he had only managed to ram the head of his cock into her vagina. The hymen had held him out.
Now he battered this last defense. She screamed and screamed under his hot hand as now he just rammed and rammed his cock into her fully opened and bleeding hole, seeming to say with each plunge, “I am going to make a woman out of you. You want to know what it’s like to be a woman? Here, I’ll show you,” and he’d ram his shaft into her bleeding vagina again.
When he was through he just stood up and left her lying there. He stood over her again for a moment. He didn’t need to threaten her not to tell anyone what had just happened. She knew all his threats by now, even when they were silent.
Then he turned and stalked out of the barn, leaving her alone.
She lay there a long time, crying silently to herself. Was that what lovemaking was like? Was that what her mother suffered every time her parents lay down in their bed? Was this what her mother’s frequent screams in the night signified?
Lena wondered if her mother knew where her husband was going when he left the house.
With some straw she wiped the blood away from her thighs. But her hole was still bleeding. She tried to stuff some soft grass up her to stem the bleeding, but it didn’t seem to help. She wiped her eyes, and pulled her clothes back on.
Then she went to take the full milk pails around to the kitchen, where she emptied them into the vat. Then she had the rest of her evening chores to do.
She scattered feed to the chickens and then climbed up on the pigsty and threw the pigs their evening swill. Her walk was unbalanced, as if the ripped, torn and bleeding place between her legs had disjointed her legs. She had to walk a little bowlegged. The chickens gabbled at her feet like the Lilliputians around the giant Gulliver. The pigs snorted and rolled over in delight at receiving their slop. She balanced on the fence around their sty and put a hand to her crotch, as if to try to soothe it.
When she turned in to bed that night, she was in still more pain. The bleeding had stopped but the blood was all in clots now, and every time she tossed in her restless dreams, she felt a tearing of flesh around her vagina and she dreamed again and again that she was being raped.
“Good morning, sunshine!”
Lena opened her eyes to bright spring sunshine and the smell of bacon frying in the kitchen. The world seemed bright and beautiful. It was a Saturday and after her chores she would have the day to herself. She was young and she was a woman now—today was the second day of her first period. These were the first thoughts to run through her head.
She swung her legs off the cot.
“Ohhhhhhh!” she stopped short as the ripping pain between her legs brought back the most brutal memory of yesterday.
“What did you say, honey?” called her mother’s voice from the kitchen.
“Nothing!” she called back. Slowly she raised her flannel nightie and surveyed the damage. Her menstrual flow was all over her thighs as well as some additional bleeding that had started up in the night from the torn membrane of her virginity. She cleaned herself up sadly, and very gently inserted a Kotex up her raw vagina.
She showered and got dressed, dreading to see her father again.
But her mother had good news for her.
“Your father left early this morning. He went in to town and he’ll be away all day, until supper.”
Lena said nothing. She sat down at the place her mother had fixed for her and hungrily devoured the eggs and bacon and biscuits. She and her mother never discussed her father, but there was an unacknowledged understanding between them, that mother and daughter were allies against the stern man. As allies, they were both helpless, but the flow of sympathy between them was strong, if unspoken, when, after he had abused mother or daughter with his blows, he left them alone to each other.
“What did he go to town for?” Lena asked sullenly.
“He went to see about Joe King’s bull. He wants to mate it with our cows,” said Mrs. Hanson. She had been a pretty woman in her youth, with long blonde hair and a creamy complexion that Lena, her daughter, had inherited.
But Mara Hanson, though all of 39 years old, was only a faded image of her former pretty self. Years of hard farm work, and her husband’s contempt and brutality had made her blonde hair grey, and her face worn and anxious looking. She had brought five children into the world. One, the oldest, a son, had been born stillborn. Two had died in infancy. Then Clark and Lena had come. A sixth baby, unknown to her husband, had died under a local midwife’s hand, in a barn. Mrs. Hanson’s body, under her thin housedress, reminded Lena of an old cow that has birthed too many calves and has no milk to give any more.
“Did you sleep well, my darling?” asked her mother.
“No, Mom,” Lena confessed.
“You know you shouldn’t let what your father said last night worry you too much. He seems harsh but he only has your best interests at heart,” said the self-deluding woman, scrubbing the greasy skillet at the sink.
“Mom, come sit down for a minute,” said Lena. The night before she had left the house in the middle of her parents’ argument about her.
When she had discovered her period yesterday afternoon, she had told her mother about it. Her mother had told her father. That night her father began laying down the rules of her new life, at dinner.
“You will not leave this farm unaccompanied by your mother or myself,” he said forking a slab of roast beef into his mouth. “You will not let yourself be alone with any of the boys at school,” he continued sloshing up the gravy on his plate with a hunk of bread.
“Roland, I think we can trust the girl a little bit. She’s only twelve, after all. She doesn’t have such thoughts on her mind yet.”
“They’re never too young for such thoughts,” spat out her father. “I won’t have any pulling bastard babies sitting at my table. If I ever find you with your legs open to any of the stupid yokels around here so help me I’ll…” the thought made him so angry he choked on the meat in his throat and at his inability to find words harsh enough to explain what he would do to her, if he ever found her in the positions of love.
“Momma, why did you TELL him, about my period, I mean,” Lena took her mother by the hand and made her sit down at the table.
“Well, he’s your father, I thought he should know that his little daughter is a woman now. In my day, when a girl had her first bleeding, her mother and her grandmother slapped her on the face and then kissed her and there was a big celebration. It was an occasion of celebration,” she said sadly and the vague look that came into her eyes more and more often now, crept in.
Lena shook her mother’s hand to bring her back. “What was it like in those days, when you were a girl?” she asked.
“Oh honey, you know I’ve told you all about it many times.”
“Yes, but tell me again.”
Lena came over and sat in her mother’s lap and her mother stroked her hair as if she were a little girl still and began reciting, “In those days we were a huge family. Grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and uncles, cousins—oh my!—the cousins. And for every holiday we’d all get together, at one of the sisters’ or brothers’ houses, and all the women would start cooking and all the men would be smoking and talking, or playing games, horseshoes the older men would play, while all the children would be a’playing together, and getting into trouble. My, the fine times we had,” she sighed.
“And what happened when you grew up?” asked Lena, snuggling against her mother’s breasts.
“Well, then the beaus came. One by one, all the sisters of all the branches of the family married off. The young men would come a’calling on ‘em, and end up leading them off to the church. And my turn came, and I went like the rest of them.”
“What was he like in those days?”
“Who? Oh, your father. He was a good-looking man. Still is. Oh yes, I always thought he was good-looking. Roland Hanson, son of one of the first family of Swedes in this district. With his family’s canning business to inherit, I couldn’t believe that that good-looking well-off man was interested in ME! Course I was pretty then,” her eyes became clouded again, as if a cloud were passing over her mind.
“Momma, WHY did you tell him?” Lena got up and stood over her mother. Mrs. Hanson didn’t move. Lena shook her by the shoulders.
“Mother! Why did you tell him?”
“Tell him what? Tell who?” Mrs. Hanson raised her worn and weary face to the bright eyes of her daughter. Wisps of her thinning grey hair fell in her face.
“Father! About my period!”
“Honey, I thought he ought to know. You know I have to tell him everything,” her mother’s voice became vague.
“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU FOR TELLING HIM!” Lena screamed and she ran out of the kitchen slamming the back door behind her.
Mrs. Hanson looked after her in astonishment. She heard Lena’s heavy steps across the yard and then the sound faded. She must have gone into the barn, thought Mrs. Hanson. She turned back to her kitchen table and stared at the unwashed cups and plates on the dirty tablecloth.
When Lena left the house she ran across the yard scattering the chickens, past the barn, across the driveway and out into the pasture. Her father had let the cows out early that morning, and they had already worked their way to the far corner. She kept running past them. It was only when she got to the top of the wooded rise that divided their land that she stopped running. She walked across the field being plowed for spring planting. The dark earth lay in broken furrows; the hard dark earth lying in freshly turned clumps. This field would be wheat.
She reached the far field that was being left to lie fallow for a season. The short spiky husks of the stalks of last summer’s corn stubbled this field. At the end of this field she saw the stallions running across the land.
Her father’s stallions were beauties. Tall, proud creatures, strong as oxen and very fast, her father had paid a king’s ransom for them. He loved to ride but didn’t have time to ride them everyday, so he had hired one of the neighbor boys, Brad King, to exercise them.
Lena watched Brad now, riding the back of one of the stallions, Black Pride. The other animal, Red Beauty, was running free alongside. Brad, on top of his horse, looked like a toy figure in the distance. He was waving one arm and shouting or singing something. She watched them ride by across her horizon.
The days passed very slowly now. Life was like a burden to her. Everyday she woke with a sick feeling in her stomach to face a lifeless kind of life, of not speaking to her father, while doing his bidding in the house, barely speaking to her mother, whose silent hurt look made Lena hate herself even more. The best part of the day was going to sleep and the worst part was waking up. Every waking moment was spent dreading her father’s next attack.
And he did attack again. He caught her from behind in the kitchen the next Sunday when her mother was out at church. Father and daughter both refused to go to church. Lena had figured if she stayed in the house he wouldn’t try to touch her, but she was wrong.
With his arms around her waist he dragged her outside across the yard to the barn. Her screams and cries of dismay made him laugh, and as she beat on his head as hard as she could with her fists he only laughed more. His head dodged her fists as if they were flies.
“Okay, my beauty, I know you’ve been waiting for this.” He threw her down on a dank pile of straw.
He stood over her grinning. His face was unshaven and his teeth blackened with snuff and tobacco juice. His lips were split and dry. He brought his thick tongue out over the lips and softened them. He pulled out his pants and brought out his cock.
She stared at the pink raw thing, pointed like a spear, and the huge balls that bulged under them. She lay on the straw panting from fear.
At his next move, which was to fall on her, she scrambled to her feet. He got up as quickly and then they stood there, facing each other across a milk pail like two wrestlers sizing each other up. The barn door was behind her and she wondered if she could run for it.
She didn’t have time to think for he took her by surprise with his fist in her jaw which sent her sprawling. Once she was down he kicked her in the cunt and she lay there writhing in pain.
He left her and went and got a harness from one of the stallion’s stalls. Before she knew it she found he was tying her up to a post in the barn with the straps of the bit around her face.
When he had her tied down so that she couldn’t move, he ripped her dress off and just stared for awhile at her large white tits and the brown nipples that hung on the ends of them. He walked up to her and pressed his cock into her tits. She writhed with revulsion.
Then he pressed his cock into her mouth. She screamed and tried to shake her head from side to side, but the huge male member was firmly forcing its way into her throat.
Her father squatted on top of her, turning to look at her tits and twist her nipples from time to time, and as he did this he drove his cock home deeper and deeper into her throat until she was almost choking which was when he came in a sea of creamy come.

***

Lena went out to the stallions’ stalls at one o’clock that night. She couldn’t sleep, the house seemed stifling. Her mother had come home from church that night and made supper. She had remarked on how unusually quiet her family had become and had said, well if no one had anything else to say she would tell them what happened at church that day. She had talked all through dinner, and after dinner Mr. Hanson had left the house. Lena sat up with her mother for a few more hours letting her mother chatter, and then had gone to bed, complaining of being very tired.
However she hadn’t been able to sleep for a moment. Turning and turning in bed she waited until she heard her mother go to sleep. Her father wouldn’t be home at all that night, she knew. Often he went off in the truck and didn’t come home until morning. Now she slipped into the stallion’s stall, which was on the other side of the barn from the cows.
Black Pride and Red Beauty were both awake. Their bright black eyes stared at her with curiosity. Lena didn’t know what drove her here. Perhaps it was because after the sordidness of the experience tonight, she sought out some contact with real beauty.
She was never allowed to ride the stallions. Her father said a woman’s flesh on their backs would spoil their dispositions permanently. But she rode the other horses and loved to ride.
The stallions knew her. She slipped them apples and sugar from time to time. She had some sugar with her now, and each horse licked the cubes in her hand. She began stroking them. Red Beauty was her favorite. The creatures reddish tone was brilliant beneath the open sky and sun, and even here in the dark barn his coat gave off a reddish glow.
She stroked his neck and flanks. She found a brush and began brushing his coat on his back and stomach. Suddenly she noticed that the animal’s genitals were erect. His cock was black but his balls had the reddish tinge of his coat. To her the size of the horse’s cock was the normal size of a cock. The male horses’ genitals were a familiar sight to her. Her father’s cock, small and paltry in comparison, made her laugh now. The mere thought of it: the stupid man’s pride in his genitalia, so unimpressive beside the fine equipment of this animal here.
Without thinking what she was doing, she slipped underneath the animal and began stroking his cock and balls. The animal bridled at first but it stood quite still, quivering as she slipped her hands quickly across the erect span of HARD flesh. The penis became wet under her hands.
She stopped once and heard the animal growl.
She slipped off her panties and bent over under the horse. His legs were so long that she could stand bent over under his stomach. She parted her buttocks with her hands and backed onto the horse’s cock. It went smoothly into her.
The animal stood quite still as the girl slid back and forth on his wet cock, hard and pointing like an accusing finger. She laughed as she came at the wonder of the animal’s hugeness and the depths to which his cock could reach.
The spring became sweet again. Or bittersweet. She always loved the ripening of the leaves on the trees, the slow emergence of green all over the land, the softening up of the earth. It rained for one week straight and then the whole farm became mud and she had to muck through the yard in big boots to do her chores.
She went to school every day and avoided the advances of the local boys. If her father ever found her flirting with one of them he would kill her, or come close to it she knew that. Now he would come to the schoolyard sometimes and watch her playing through the fence. Her games became stiff and self-conscious then, and her girlfriends noticed the strange situation, and they became distant. They were all afraid of Lena’s father and ran to the far yard of the schoolyard when they saw him watching them.
Sometimes he waited for her after school, waiting in the truck while all the other kids went by, until he saw her. He would signal to her with his finger, and she would have to leave her other girlfriends.
“My father’s here to pick me up again, I have to go,” she said with an unhappy look on her face. Her girlfriend Ellen squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek before running off with the other girls. Lena would climb into the truck next to her father.
He usually took her to an abandoned barn he knew about down by Kingfisher River. Usually she was sobbing at first, as he stopped the truck and pulled her out. He pulled her stumbling behind him to the shack where he made her lie on the floor and put his cock in her mouth or cunt.
He whispered to her coarsely at these times: “I like your cunt, my girl. Not every man’s got a daughter with such pussy on her.”
He liked to part her cunt with his dirty fingers to ready it for his reddened cock. He liked to force his cock between her teeth and down her throat.
For a few weeks he would take her only from behind, forcing her to her knees so he could drive his shaft home into the mound that stuck out between her thighs.
He couldn’t keep his hands off her boobs, and he began to grow bolder, sticking his hands inside her shirt to squeeze her boobs couched in her white bra, as he passed her in the hall at home.
Still, every time her father took her as his sullen victim, she sought revenge by going out into the barn that night and finding pleasure with his horse. For as much revulsion as her father evoked in her, ten times greater was the pleasure with the stallion Red Beauty.
She rigged a harness for herself, by which she could strap herself to the animal’s underside, belly to belly. Her legs boldly apart, her cunt pink and wet and wanting, strapped to her hero, she rode to glory with his long horsecock poling into her hole.
She had seen horses mate before, and she had seen these stallions mate. The male of the horse species mates ferociously with its female.
But for her, Red Beauty remained almost completely still, as if hypnotized. The horse seemed to sense quite clearly that another than one of his kind was mounting him, and with his silence and his acquiescence he seemed to be paying homage to the higher species which sought him out. He seemed to understand the honor she was paying him, and he let her pay it freely.
Horsecock was the only thing that could satisfy her now. She laughed at school when the boys took interest in her, or when the other girls had crushes on this boy or that. The other girls didn’t understand her. She acted so superior when it came to boys but they never saw her go out with one.
“Boys don’t interest me,” was all she would ever say to enlighten the mystery. “And men? Well, I’m waiting to see a real man. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one.”
“What are you crazy? Mr. Nolte’s a man and he teaches right here in this school. Your father’s a man and you see others, what do you mean you’ve never seen a real man?” asked Ellen. Ellen was a tall thin girl who felt very self-conscious because of her height. She towered above all the boys in their class. Her body had not begun developing yet, and she still had only little nipples for breasts.
Lena looked at Mr. Nolte walking by, a bald man with an undefined bundle between his legs, under his baggy pants, and she had to laugh.
Ellen looked at her peculiarly and walked away.
Mr. Hanson did not appear at the schoolyard for a week. He was in town arranging for the transfer of the King bull to his farm to mate with his cows. Some of the cows were birthing now in the spring from the last time he brought the bull to them. He wanted another litter in the making. He received good prices on his calves.
Joe King agreed to bring his bull around the next Saturday. Roland Hanson looked forward to the occasion. He forgot about his daughter for a while and contented himself evenings taking his stallions, first one then the other, out for rides across the countryside.
Lena watched from behind the fence as the figure of her father, burly and heavy, on the swift shape of Red Beauty became a speck on the horizon. She grew angry thinking of her father’s thighs goading Red Beauty’s flanks. She knew that her father’s whip would be no more sparing to his horse than his words or actions were to his wife and daughter.
But there was nothing she could do about this anger. She couldn’t even speak of it to anyone, and now, her beauty, which was taking shape and growing every day, began to take on a sullen, inward look.
Brad King came by one evening to pick up his pay from her father and she was in the yard when he pulled up in his car. He had a ‘68 Chevy with all the chrome polished on it, and she admired the car.
“You like her, huh?” Brad stuck his head out the window and asked her. “Yep, I paid for her and fixed her all up myself. You should have seen her when I first got her,” he shook his head.
“Well my father’s not home right now. He went out riding about an hour ago.”
“Well, I guess I could wait a while, see if he comes back. I sure could use that dough,” he eyed her up and down. She was wearing a pair of old blue jeans and thin red shirt.
“You and me should go out some time,” he said. “I’ll take you for a ride in my jalopy.”
She laughed sadly. “No, I don’t think so.” Brad was already graduated from high school. He was eighteen years old and already looked like a man. He had been working his father’s land since he was a kid and had grown straight into a man’s big body. He had sandy-colored hair, like her own, and blue-grey eyes with a kind look to them. He had thin hungry looking lips. He shifted in his seat.
“Why not? Don’t you think I’m good enough for you?” He looked at the plump mounds jiggling right under the thin red fabric of her blouse and he allowed his glance to slip down to the v-shaped wrinkles of her tight jeans as they gripped her between the legs. He remembered that she was only twelve years old.
“I’m too young to go out with boys. Besides, my father would kill me.”
“Oh, so your father don’t want you seeing no men,” he eyed the shape of her ass as she bent down to tie her moccasin.
They heard a galloping against the earth and saw Mr. Hanson come riding across the field behind the barn. He rode up and stopped the horse between them.
“What are you doing there, son?” he asked speaking down to the boy in the car. “Just talking to your daughter while I was waiting for you, sir. Remember you said you’d have my pay for me today?”
“Oh yes, I’ll go in the house and get it. And you, get on with your chores, sister. Don’t be wasting your time chitter-chattering with those mooney eyes.”
“I swear,” he went on in the kitchen as he counted out the money to Brad King, “they say in the church that women are pure and saintly, but every woman I’ve ever known has been hornier than a female feline in heat. Except the female of the human species is like that ALL THE TIME. Fifty-sixty-sixty-five,” he counted out.
“Don’t you agree with me, Brad?” he asked.
“Yessir,” said Brad.
“Listen, don’t you let me catch you hanging around my little Lena. That girl’s very precious to me, and I won’t have no country hicks knocking her up before her time. You hear me, boy?”
“Yessir. Nothing could be farther from my mind,” Brad said.

***

Her father took her brutally that night. He made no show of hiding what he was about. After dinner, while her mother was at the sink doing the dishes, Lena tried on a new dress she had ordered through the mail. It had just come that day. Her mother pinned it up for her and then she went to her room and changed back into her jeans. She sat cross-legged on the floor, watching TV, with pins in her mouth, as she sewed. She had a good, clever little stitch. All the while her father sat smoking and watching her. He watched every movement of her tits beneath her blouse, and every strain of the denim across her cunt.
Lena was aware of his eyes, but felt safe because of her mother’s presence. Surely he couldn’t take her right in front of her mother.
Suddenly he swooped down on her, scattering her dish of pins, and simply picked her up and carried her through the kitchen and out of the house under his arm.
“Roland, what are you doing?” screeched and flapped his wife Mara at the kitchen door as she watched her husband carry her daughter to the barn.
“Shut up and keep out of here,” he merely roared at her over her shoulder.
She stood for a moment nervously wringing a towel in her hand as she stared at the closed barn door.
Inside, Roland Hanson tied his daughter’s neck to the base of one of the posts. He didn’t have to fear her flailing arms and legs.
“Mother! MOTHER!” she was screaming.
“No, cunt, I’m your father,” he slapped her face back and forth until she stopped screaming. He left the red imprint of his fingers across her face. He parted her thighs with his rough knees. His own thighs were like mountains, thick and heavy and strong. The white skin of her own thighs, cruelly parted, against his, was like cream lying beside mutton.
His cock was hurting him in his pants. The tip of it stuck above the waistband. He tore the buckle open on his belt and unzipped his fly. He squashed his cock into her face, dragging the end of the huge member across her cheeks and lips and nose, across her eyes, smashing her face with it.
“So you got the hots for Brad King, do you. Open your eyes and take your fill of the likes of a real man,” he snarled in her ear.
She opened her eyes in time to witness his cock take aim for a moment over her mouth. His hands, one on her upper and one on her lower jaw, pried her mouth open. She watched the cock descend into her small gaping mouth.
It filled all the space between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, then pushed further into the hole of her throat. Again and again he raised and then lowered himself down into the soft cunt-like flesh of her throat, while she choked and sputtered and tried to keep breathing through her nose.
“You think Brad King’s thingie is as big and bad as mine,” he whispered evilly into her ear.
She was just breathing and trying to open her mouth wide to allow him the kind of access he insisted on, so he would get his rocks off and let her loose.
But he wanted an answer to his question.
He reached behind him, as he sat on her chest plunging his cock into her face, for her boobs. He found one with one hand and he juggled it in his hand so full and weighty was it. He found and juggled the other one. Then his fingers sought the nipple, which he treated with a sharp twist.
“Owwww,” a gurgled sound came out of her full mouth, and she tossed her head, which made her choke even more as she was brought up short by the leather thong around her neck.
“Do you think his cock is as big as mine?” he demanded of her again giving the nipple another good hard twist.
“Nnnnn,” she shook her head from side to side.
He seemed satisfied with her answer for he jumped out, pulling his cock out of her mouth and he stood above her naked body.
Kneeling he forced her legs apart again and he surveyed the pink pussy lying helpless before him, couched in her wheat-colored cunt hair. He spat on the cunt to make it slippery wet.
“Driest fucking cunt in the Midwest,” he said with contempt.
Then he made a fist and began to try to shove it in her now wet cunt. She shrieked with pain, for he had grabbed some of her hair in his fist, and he was mercilessly trying to get all five of his crumpled fingers and knotted knuckles up her at once, and indeed he did. He kept at it until he had worked his fist all the way in.
He chortled, “Look!” he said. “Look!” he shook his fist in her cunt swinging her body around, and she, exhausted, tried to raise her head and look as he said.
She saw him, the end of his arm sunk way deep into her. He looked like an amputee.
“Now I’ve got you where I want you!” he said. “If you ever so much as breathe in Brad King’s direction, do you know what I’ll do to you?” he asked.
Again he forced her to make some kind of answer. She shook her head. He told her.
“I’ll stuff all kinds of things into you, I’ll fuck with anything I can find lying around. I’ll fuck you so good and so long and so hard that no man will want your raggedy meat after that. I’ll make your cunt loose its memory that there’s any such thing as a another man’s cock in the world.”
Now he yanked his fist out. He prepared his cock for its meal, basting it with some of his own spit.
But as he opened her cunt with his fingers he looked at the pussyflesh and realized he wanted to eat her out. Father sank his mouth into daughter’s cunt and his thick hot tongue was ravaging her cunt, biting on the nub of flesh between the outer labia. He poked her clitoris with a bent finger, while his tongue stuck into her cunt depths, and she writhed and screamed at this new humiliation.
To have this huge, hideously ugly man who had fathered her, open her legs and stick his tongue in her sickened her and made her scream hysterically. Finally he removed his face from her cunt with a big grin for he had woman come smeared all over his lips.
“Sickening, they’re all the same,” he muttered to himself, and now he took his cock in his hand and plunged into the melting butter of her cunt. She was softer and juicier than she had ever been before, and he sank right into her cunt up to the hilt of his shaft. She was all pussysoft inside, like a juicy quilt. His dick throbbed and trembled as he withdrew it slowly, only to plunge it again. His foreskin slid up and down over his cock and there was cuntjuice all over.
He increased the friction over his penis’ head by jamming in and out faster and faster. The cock made a sucking sound every time it came in and out of her passive cunthole.
Suddenly he was riding freely, as if he were on a stallion. He was no longer propelling himself on her, but it was as if he had simply let go of all control of his body and was being moved up and down through space, an inner space, a black starry universe, by some other force than his own. Smoothly, riding high and low and high and all the way, he came gushing into his daughter’s cunt.
He stood up and smeared the come on his cock all over her belly, then left her lying there to untie the rope around her neck with her own hands. He didn’t even bother to put on his pants as he strode across the yard and got into his car. He drove off for a night of honky-tonking, leaving the mother staring out from the kitchen window, waiting for his headlights to disappear, before she ran to her daughter lying in the barn.
“My darling, sweetheart, what has he done to you?” sobbed the mother, untying the rope from around her daughter’s neck.
It was minutes before Lena could talk, so long did it take her to get her throat back into working, breathing, and talking order. The strap had left a red mark around her neck.
The worn, older woman tried to carry her daughter to the house, but it was no use. The younger woman was much stronger than the mother, and it was Lena who ended up helping her hysterical mother across the yard.
Lena tried to soothe her mother in the house, after she had put on some clothes.
“Calm down, Mother, it’s all right. Maybe if he’s on top of me, he won’t be hurting you so much anymore,” she said. She wondered if this was true. She hadn’t heard her mother’s midnight screams in a few months, and her parents certainly seemed to fight a lot less than before.
“What can we do? What can we do?” Mrs. Hanson was grasping at the wispy bits of grey that fell on her face. She was speaking hysterically.
“Mother, go to bed. I’ll make you a cup of warm milk and maybe that will help you to sleep,” Lena found she felt decisive and firm before her mother’s helpless state.
“There now,” she said tucking her mother in. “We’ll figure it out in the morning.” And she watched over her mother, and held her hand, until the tired old, young woman fell asleep.
As soon as her deep breathing indicated a deep state of sleep, Lena laid her mother’s hand down on the bed and went back out to the barn.
She saddled up Red Beauty, and led him out of the barn and through the fence into the pasture. She mounted him easily with one movement, and then took him galloping out behind the wheat fields.
The moon was high and full that night and it was deep spring. The creek was full and high and she could see by the moonlight the shadows of the minnows that were newly spawned darting about in the blue water.
Red Beauty whinnied and again they took off, galloping across the countryside in the moonlight, the girl with her blonde hair streaming out behind her, and the red stallion, his mane sweeping her face.
They came back to the gully where it winded further on and made a pool of water. The stallion bent down his long neck for a drink and Lena slipped off him.
While he was drinking Lena went under him and started stroking his balls and the furry sheath that housed his penis. She placed her lips on the furry hair and kissed the sheath, pressing hard with her lips. She felt the mouth of the sheath open and the cock begin to protrude. She slavered over the growing, emerging cock with her tongue until it was fully-grown. It looked like a flame or a wet tongue, except that it was about seventeen inches long.
“Mmmmmmmm,” she groaned. “Beauty, Red Beauty,” she whispered squeezing the long hard wet dick with her hands, and the horse whinnied and went up on his two front legs while she held on.
She laughed and slipped off her jeans. Her hands clinging to the stirrups, and her legs wrapped around the stallion’s back legs, she eased her sore pussy over the long cock. It touched bottom in her before it was halfway in.
Again the horse whinnied and went up on his hind legs as the obsessed girl rocked up and down over the slick horsecock. The long slick wet thing soothed the cunt which had been violated only hours before.
The horse brought her to heights and depths of orgasmic pleasure such as normal women do not dream of. She clung with her thighs to the horse’s penis and slid it in and out of her, allowing her uninhibited groans of pleasure to rise from the flat plain straight into the starry sky and up to the full moon.
“Jesus Fucking H. Christ,” came a voice in the darkness.
Lena froze in her clasp on the underside of the horse. The horse too sensed the stranger’s presence, for he froze and a frightened sound escaped from between his flared nostrils.
“Why it’s Lena! Roland Hanson’s daughter!” and a long amazed whistle followed.
Lena had fallen to the ground and she lay still now, abject and humiliated.
The man, when he came over to look at her, was Brad King.
He stood over her, looking down, surprise in his eyes. He bent down and helped her sit up, supporting her shoulders with his knees. He pulled her jeans up over her crotch, trying not to look at the white semen, horse semen, flowing all over her thighs.
“Jeesus Christ,” he said again. “On her daddy’s stallion.” He shook his head again. “Where’d you learn to do that, girl?” he asked. She clung miserably to his arms. What would he do with her now? Tell her father? She couldn’t even think of what her father might do to her if he knew. Killing wouldn’t be enough, she knew.
“I mean I’ve heard tell of this sort of thing—I mean girls with animals, horses and dogs and such, but I never really believed,” he whistled again.
She turned to look up at him as she lay in his arms. “My father rapes me once or twice a week,” she said looking firmly into his eyes. “And every time he does it to me, I go out in the barn afterwards, when he’s left the house to go whore-hunting in town, and I do it with his best horse.”
She looked unwaveringly at him to see how he would take it, take the truth.
He was looking at her while she talked, but when she finished he looked away.
“Oh Lord, there’s all kind of critters in this world. All kinds, the good Lord preserve us. You know, I never did like your daddy. Cruel man, unnecessarily cruel, I always thought. With his animals and with his wife. And with his daughter now, too, I should have known.”
He lay down on the ground beside her now and held her in his arms as if to protect or nurse her.
“Well, what are you doing way out here in the middle of the night, anyway, yourself, Brad King,” Lena murmured in his ear.
“I was out riding myself, little honey,” he said kissing her hair. “You done wandered onto my daddy’s land. I saw someone come riding across the plain on what looked like Mr. Hanson’s stallion so I came out to investigate. You didn’t even hear me ride up.” He licked the lobe of her little ear.
“Only twelve years old,” he muttered to himself and shook his head.
“Brad, if my father finds out that you and me ever lay together like this, Brad, he’ll kill me. He will. I’ve got to get away from you,” she said, suddenly hysterically rising.
“Wow, now there little filly,” he said gently pulling her back down to the fertile earth. “How’s he gonna know, that we met way out here?”
“I think he’d be angrier about finding out about me and you than about me and Red Beauty. Red Beauty, at least he’s his horse.”
“Well now, who’s gonna tell him either story? Not me. You can trust me baby,” he said moving his lips down her face until they met her lips.
He hugged her big soft boobs against his flat hard chest, and then unbuttoned both their shirts so he could feel her big soft tits directly against his hairless chest. Her nipples felt like little raisins at the end of big marshmellowy mounds and he stuck his face in one then the other like a little baby at its mother’s breasts.
His dick was like a hard arrow in his pants, and he pressed his groin against her soft stomach.
“I don’t know if I should,” she whimpered. She was confused now, and didn’t know who was mounting her.
“You don’t know if you should?” he said, rubbing his hardened jeans along her open yawning cunt which he had revealed by pulling off her panties. He looked at the black gash in the big pink pussy. There was still some creamy come floating in her pussyhair. It was from the horse.
He unleashed his cock from his jeans and pointed it toward the black gash in the pink, the gash that led into the dark pussydepths.
Her legs parted willingly now, she pulled at her thighs with her hands to open her cunt wider now for his entry.
When he plunged into her now, her clit was like a tuning fork that has just been hit: it was vibrating and large and full of juice. His cock was like a blade that slayed her. It passed right over and back across and over again her throbbing clit and every time the head of his cock pushed across her clit, slicking it as it passed, she sank into oblivion and came, and came again.
He took his coming slowly. He kissed her lips, sucking them into his mouth. Her lower lip was full and red and he took it between his own thin lips as if it were a big cherry in a cocktail. Her upper lip too he savored with his tongue and teeth. Then he darted his tongue way into her mouth as his cock plunged into the black cave of her cunt. Quivering it came up even harder than before.
It was going to take a lot of fucking to fuck the hardness out of his dick that had yearned for this little girl’s pussyhood for so long.
She opened her eyes and looked at the landscape behind her. The moon glared eerily on the landscape. Everything seemed drenched in the moon’s silver, the fields, with their newly sown seed, the brown earth, the newly-green trees that leaned over the creek and the singing water of the creek itself.
“Oh look!” she cried.
Against the horizon two black horses reared up on their hind legs. It was Red Beauty, her father’s stallion, mounting Brad’s filly.
Brad halted his movement on top of her for a moment to watch the coupling of the animals. The stallion whinnied and neighed fiercely as he boldly threw his front hooves on the filly’s buttocks.
The filly was fierce too, as she pretended to try to pull away, as if she didn’t know what the stallion was doing or didn’t want him to do it. She made the stallion knock her with his hooves and grasp her tighter. They could see the male’s huge cock stand up and then sink into the mare while both animals sang out a wild fierce chorus of animal lust.
Brad stroked her clitoris and she was filled with throbbing desire again.
This time he spared no ounce of energy as he rode his cock into the willing girl. She encircled his back with her long lovely legs, legs like a filly’s, and she clung to him, raising her buttocks off the ground to hang suspended from him as he bore his cock into her pussy cunt.
His horn bore a hole into her which made her forget the her father’s sledgehammer, and also the horse’s long strange cock.
Brad King fit right into her and she took one final breath and squeezed him with all her pussy muscles and she hung on squeezing and squeezing his cock in her pussy with all her might while he continued his fierce plunging. Like this she brought him off. The last plunge was into a sea of come that he left floating in the very bottom of her cunt…
“In an isosceles triangle, there are two sides of equal length while the third side is shorter. The hypotenuse…” Mr. Nolte droned on in math class.
Lena shared a desk with Ellen and they passed notes under the tabletop.
“Have you ever seen a man’s thingie?” read the note from Ellen.
Lena suppressed a giggle and wrote back.
“You have? Whose?” was the reply.
“My cousin’s,” Lena wrote back after a moment’s thought.
“I have too. This weekend. I saw Jed Raleigh’s,” was Ellen’s exciting news.
“How did you like it?” asked Lena.
Mr. Nolte was standing over them. “Give me the note,” he said.
“Oh, no, please, Mr. Nolte, we’ll stop passing them only…”
“Give me the note.”
They sullenly gave him the slip of paper they had been writing on. They looked shamefacedly at the floor as he perused it silently before the class and then folded it into his pocket, blushing. He said, “Now everyone pay attention. No note passing.” And he went back to triangles.
Lena fixed her eyes on the blackboard filling up with figures, but behind her eyes she was lost in thought. She wondered what were the circumstances under which the skinny Ellen had seen Jed Raleigh’s cock. She wondered what his cock was like. Jed was in the eighth grade, one year above them. He was thirteen.
Then her mind wandered to a thought of what a cock feels like slipping inside you. Under the schoolgirl’s table, a pair of schoolgirl thighs became moist. She was wearing only a thin pair of white cotton panties under her skirt and her own moist smell came up to her from under the seat. She remembered Brad King’s gentle hands opening her cunt gently prior to inserting his pleasantly-sized member into her and she recalled how it went in and out gently, exciting her further as it moved. How they had reached some kind of white pitch together, at the same time, as the horses moved violently on the horizon.
Then a shudder went through her body as her mind could not help recalling a very different kind of sex: the brutality and fear of her father’s bondage in the barn. The class was interrupted at that point by a knock at the door. Everyone’s failing attention was awakened and turned to the door.
Through the window they saw a scruffy contorted face.
Mr. Nolte went to the door and stuck his head out into the hall. Then he turned back into the room and called, “Lena Hanson.”
She heard her name being called as if through a mist and just barely managed to revive herself from her dreams and say “Yes?”
“You are dismissed from class. Go into the hall. Your father has come for you. You have to go home,” said Mr. Nolte.
Was he laughing at her? Having intercepted that note he must know, Lena felt. She felt as if the whole class were laughing at her, as if they all must know what this strange midday summons from her father meant. What could she say or do? Refuse to go? Announce to the class: my father has come to get me and take me somewhere where he can rape me? Who would believe her? And she would never have the nerve to do it anyway. At least not while her father was there watching and waiting for her. He would surely kill her once he got her away, if he heard her say something like that.
Miserably, she got up from her little desk. Ellen clung to her hand under the table then let her go. Ellen’s kind eyes didn’t look her in the face. Ellen surely knows, she thought. Ellen senses it, even if she doesn’t know exactly. She knows something horrible is wrong.
She felt the eyes of the entire class on her back as she walked to the door, and it was almost a relief to escape their curious eyes and confront her father in the hall.
“Why have you come for me?”
“Don’t ask questions.” He took her by the hand and started down the hall.
“And the hypotenuse of this isosceles triangle is… Ellen?” she heard Mr. Nolte’s voice getting fainter.
It was very strange to be walking through the school halls with her father. It was like having one foot in the grave she enjoyed some freedom from fear, freedom from attack. They walked together down the well-lit corridors. There were pictures done by the second graders hanging on the walls in the main lobby.
Mr. Hanson nodded to the school principal, Mr. Rice, a big, bald, paunchy man in a cowboy hat. Lena’s father sold his heifers to Mr. Rice, who kept a small herd of livestock.
Outside in front of the school, her father stopped to talk to Jimmy Nails, the local cop who played cards with her father on the weekends.
“Mighty nice day, Roland,” said Jimmy, rocking back on the heels of his black leather boots. He was in his blue uniform, and had his cop car pulled up to the curb.
“Yep,” said her father, holding her by the hand, but stopping to chew some tobacco with his friend.
“That sure is a pretty little girl you’ve got there. How old are you now, Lena?” the cop said patronizingly.
“Twelve,” said Lena sullenly.
“She’ll be thirteen in August,” said her father squeezing her hand tightly.
“She sure is right pretty. Sure is. Pretty soon all the little boys in her class will be wanting to take her to see the double features down to the Rialto,” Jimmy the cop spoke about her as if she were absent.
“She’s too young for such things,” said her father spitting.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Jimmy leering and looking frankly at her well-developed bust.
“Well, I do know and I’m her father so I guess I get some say so in what she is allowed to do and what she is not. And seeing boys is not allowed. Come along honey,” he said dragging her into his waiting pick-up. “We got some chores we got to do today,” he added.
“Father knows best,” said Jimmy grinning and he put on his dark sunglasses and climbed into his own car.
“Please follow us,” Lena was praying. “Please be suspicious and follow us and see what he tries to do to me, and rescue me and put him in jail, or me in jail or just something, anything, to keep him off of me!” were Lena’s hysterical thoughts. But as they pulled out onto the highway that led to the old abandoned shack by Neversink Creek, one glance in the rear view mirror told her that Jimmy the cop had had no such thoughts as following them on his mind.
Her panic grew as they rode silently in the car. She couldn’t even go to the police for protection from her father. They would never believe her either. Half of them were her father’s buddies, and they would only pat her on the head for making up stories and return her directly to him.
He threw her skirts up around her waist so he could look at her thighs as they drove. He put one big hand over her thighs and tweaked at the flesh that lay under her panties. Her soft white thigh flesh seemed to pull away from his coarse intruding hands, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was breathing heavily as they turned onto the dirt road that led down to the creek.
He offered no explanation as to why he hadn’t been able to wait for her after school, as he had other times. Why he had to add the extra humiliation of removing her from class before everybody’s watching eyes. It was as if he wanted her to have to bear this extra alienation, of not being able to explain why her father came to remove her from school. He was making her feel different, and there was no one to whom she could tell her story when he stopped the car and jumped out of the cab, she remained inside. He had to come around to her side, open her door and pull her out. She clung to the gearshift, and then to the door, screaming, “Please, father, no!”
He slapped her face a few times until she was silenced, then unwrapped her fingers from his car’s door and slung her over his back. He carried her down to the water’s edge.
It was a beautiful day, one of the first days of summer. The water in the creek was high and spangled with sunlight. The leaves were almost full-grown on the trees that hung over the water, and they dappled the water with their shadows. There were flies in the air, just spawned by the earth overnight, it seemed, and Lena’s eyes caught sight of a dragonfly, the first she had seen this year, glinting just above the surface of the stream’s rippling water. Her father threw her down on the grass-covered bank and fell on top of her.
“You’re making me think of you all the time, you little cunt,” be whispered hoarsely in her ear. “Can’t even work, now. Have to ride the tractor, do the planting, oversee the crew of boys who are helping me, but I can’t, and it’s your fault.” He stuck his thick, tobacco-stained tongue in her ear and explored all the crevices of her soft pink seashell.
She felt the tongue like an unpleasant animal, a worm or a conch, worming down into the canal of her ear and it stirred her unpleasantly.
“In the yard I watch you bending over to feed the chickens, in the barn where I watch you squat on a stool to milk the cows. I get jealous when I watch you stroke their flanks. The cows. I get jealous when I see you touching the fucking cows.” Now he was exposing her breasts to the open sun.
They were beautiful, firm, oblong-shaped, and white as fresh cream with brown nipples like the nougat inside of a candy bar. He slobbered his mouth all over these mounds of flesh, taking the nipples between his teeth and pulling lightly on them, watching as he raised the whole tit to a standing position by pulling on the nipple. He had the playfulness of a child today as he laughed gleefully when he released the nipples and the breasts fell back onto her chest like water balloons thrown gently on the ground. They did not burst, they rolled around and resumed their former shape. He cradled the boob weight in his hands and looked off in the distance as if her were judging the weight of one of his prize heifers.
He rolled her over on her hands and knees so he could look at her boobs hanging down. They almost touched the earth. The nipples were distended now, from his biting them and from hanging down, and he reached under her to cup his hands around her young tits and sway them and nip at them with his fatherly fingers.
“All the time. All the time,” he kept whispering hoarsely in her ears like a gadfly, like a record, unrelated to what was happening which she nevertheless could not turn off. “I keep thinking of you, seeing you, seeing the shape of your tits in the mounds of earth the tractor drops seeds into, seeing your hair flowing over your boobies when I turn on the hose and wash down the sacks of feed. I can’t even look a cow in the ass, I think of your sweet pink cuntflesh between those white thighs of yours, and I want ‘em. I want ‘em so bad I can’t think, I can’t work, can’t do nothing but come to school and get you to take you away where I can put my hands all over you alone and touch you everywhere and make my mind stop trying to remember you.”
His hands were all over her now, up her dress, around her waist, slipping under her panties, scratching through her pussy hair.
“Father!” she tried to stop him. They were right out in broad daylight now, after all. Someone might come along. She hoped someone would. But maybe now, in broad daylight, he might listen to reason, come to his senses.
“Father, it’s against the Bible. Don’t you know this is a sin? You can’t fornicate with your own daughter. You’ll make the sky go black some day with your dreadful deeds. Father, go to the women in town, go to Mother, go to anyone else, but please leave me alone, I beg of you. If you can’t bear to see me around the house without wanting me, I’ll go away. I’ll go away somewhere so you won’t have to look at me, but please don’t.”
He didn’t even hear her last words, though he was laughing at her protests. He had gotten his forefinger in her slit now and he was rubbing back and forth feeling the wetness increase. He moved his forefinger up to rub the swelling mound of flesh between her labia and then he slid the finger back down to the hole and entered her youthful love-cave.
Her clit too was swelling and throbbing despite herself, and she was all wet now. The wall-to-wall quilting of her twelve-year-old cunt was slimy with female love muck and he laughed as he withdrew his horny finger and heard a sigh from her.
“I thought you didn’t like it,” he said, raising himself up off her for a minute to unbuckle his pants.
“Uh,” she opened her eyes. For a moment she had imagined that it was Brad King who had been tickling her excitement up the crevasse between her legs. Why did women have to have this stupid hole right up the very center of them, she thrashed bitterly as she knew the inescapable truth that it was her father, his breath sour on her lips, who was pressing his huge member over her face.
Why did he like it in her mouth? It was so incredibly disgusting this way. To have to take your father’s big hard dick into your mouth. He forced it in, pulling her lips and teeth apart the way he would to examine a horse. His balls knocked against her chin. She spit and choked but still he did not relent as he shoved his long pointed spear into her soft throat. He loved to watch his cock disappear into the face of his daughter. He loved making women eat it. He loved watching it disappear into the hole in the middle of their faces, even more than he enjoyed sinking it into their cuntholes.
This way he could be sure only he got the real pleasure. He closed his eyes and sank it deep in her throat again, holding her by her luscious boobies. Her hair flowed over the riverbank and into the water. He dreamed of being able to tie her up down here so that whenever he felt like sinking it in her, he could just come down here, open his pants, spread her legs or force her to open her mouth, and sock it to her.
She gagged on the wicked cone thrusting down her throat as if it wanted to be completely swallowed. The thrusting quickened which meant he was near his coming. She shuddered and retched at the thought but there was no way of escaping taking his semen down her throat. He held her firmly pinned by her arms and by the way he sat on her upper chest. She felt like a doll, limp, just a bunch of boobs, a mouth with a flowing dick in it, and somewhere down there, a mass of cuntflesh which was not at present being used.
He felt his tide rising in him, and jiggled her boobies in his hands behind him, like melons they were, and jogged up and down faster on top of her face, sinking his cock into her small compliant mouth—open like as if it were a dickhole, made expressly for his dick. He kept bouncing it into her and the tip of his cock felt the smooth firm slimy quilted throat tissue, while the shaft of his cock felt the pulling of the walls of her mouth as he yelled, “Suck me off! Suck me off you bitch!” and gave her tits a hard tweak.
He sank it into her and then was riding on a floating ocean of come. The excretion filled her throat while the penis continued to sink in her throat, and she didn’t want to swallow but she couldn’t get up, and lying down the ugly foul syrup began to slide down her throat while he whipped his now soft penis against the walls of her mouth.
He left the soft dick slip out of her mouth while she sat there grimacing and swallowing and spitting up. He laughed at her. She had semen all over her lips, and some even on her nose. Her nose and chin were all red and chaffed from where his groin had rubbed against her.
“My little come machine. All my very own. No one else is allowed to use it. Only me,” he was joking with himself. He seemed to be very proud of his personal property.
Lena was relieved that at least it was through for one day. Would she be allowed to return to school now, she wondered. No, he wouldn’t do that. He lay down on top of her, his back against her stomach, so that she couldn’t get up, and he enjoyed the sunshine. He played with his dick in the breeze, trying to stand it up and laughing when it fell over, waving away the flies.
Beneath him, the back of her head was being ground into a rock, and his weight bore down cruelly on her hipbones. She could feel the copper studs of his jeans digging into the soft flesh of her belly. With his boots he amused himself by pushing her legs farther and farther apart and thought about his daughter’s cunt.
Her cunt was sweet, and so young and tender, it reminded him of the yellow-green buds coming out on the trees now. Her cunt was like a sour apple that you wanted to bite into just to taste the sourness exploding on your tongue. It made you wince, the taste was so wry.
He sprang off of her, and then pulled her up off the ground. She was facing him, staring at the big ugly thing that was achingly big again. He needed to be satisfied again, he needed to be relieved of that wad of desire and passion that was pushing out of his jeans and the only thing could relieve that pushing passion was to find a hole sufficiently enticing to him.
He tied her to the trunk of a willow tree whose branches almost came down to the ground. He tied her like a heifer, with a rope around her neck, but he fixed the rope to the tree only three feet off the ground, forcing her to bend over. Lena was only five feet tall.
“Papa, no! No, Papa! Please! Please let me go! Please don’t. Please! I’m scared! I’m frightened! You shouldn’t do this! God will hate you! Please! NO! PLEASE!” she cried, tied to the tree stooping over.
He laughed. She sounded like a heifer braying at being separated from its mother. He lifted her skirt and watched her shake and cry in her panties for a while. Women’s underwear always fascinated him, and now he was curious to watch her ass move in her child’s white cotton panties. They came up to her waist, and they had a damp, darker spot at the crotch where her female secretions gathered, which no washing could entirely eradicate.
Stooping over, her breasts were hanging again, and it was almost with tenderness that he made her remove her blouse. Her boobies hung down like a cow’s waiting to be milked and he crawled underneath her to swat at and suck and play with them while he put the toe of his shit-encrusted boot at the crotch of her panties and forced the panties into the entry of her cunt. The toe of his boot went part way in too, and she sobbed and shook while he thus abused her, all of which made her fine large boobies shake like jello. He had a weird thought: he wished he were a woman so he could try to insert her boobies up his cunt, and he thought if he were a woman that is want he’d want to do.
He slid out from under her and stood up behind her. He pulled her panties down to he knees and pulled her dress over her head so he wouldn’t be distracted by her boobies and her cries anymore. He would just concentrate on her rear dark meat. And it was fine. He just watched and surveyed it for awhile, allowing his excitement and desire to grow unbearably.
In her fear and far-advanced state of hysteria, she couldn’t stand still. Tied by the neck, all she could do was shake her ass like a cow, and he watched, fascinated, by the movement of the body. The flesh flowed into her waist, making shadows there, and then spread way out again into a fine pair of female hips, smooth and curvaceous. The curve continued on into a well-rounded ass, flowing up, out and over, and sliding into the all-enticing black crack of her ass.
Her pussy hair peeped out between her thighs and he brought her hands around and attached them to her moons and made her pull on them so that the mound of cuntflesh too protruded. It was pink and gaping. The labia looked like a little woman’s little mouth pursed in a kiss. Her slender little fingers pulling on her fleshy behind pointed in the direction in which he was to go.
“Pull more! Pull harder! Stretch open your little hiney, honey, so that Daddy can put his cock right into your cunt. There, how does that feel?” And he stuck the slick wet head of his cock right up against the mouth of her open, offered, gaping pussy.
Her hands on her ass, her head tied close to the tree, she felt her father’s organ enter her cunt, forced open against her will. She thought for a split second of an hour ago, sitting just like the other kids in a schoolroom, at a desk, passing notes and giggling, learning about triangles.
Now the shaft of her father’s cock was slowly forcing its way up her cunt, under a willow tree by the river, while she, the part of her that was really Lena, the part of her that had a name and thoughts and reason, was tied by the head to the tree. She felt split in two.
As if there were two things going on: Lena, the reasoning part of her, was swooning in shame and humiliation and despair. Lena’s cunt lived on top of her legs which slipped farther and farther apart to accommodate the huge apparatus her father had hanging between his legs. His cock and balls were larger than Brad King’s. She really had to open her legs wide to get him in, and she had to pull apart her buttocks to allow him the kind of entry he needed. It was better than simply having him shove it up her and tear her apart along the way.
He loved to sink into cunt outside in nature. He loved to sink into cunt so young and so taboo as his own daughter that even his friends, if they knew, would be shocked and disapproving. And envious. He wished Jimmy Nails could see him now, or that fat paunchy self-righteous school principal, Mr. Rice. He imagined Lena’s math teacher, Mr. Nolte, bald at thirty-five, saying, “Mr. Hanson, I really cannot let you take your daughter out of class unless I know what you intend to do with her.”
And then his wide eyes stared as he saw her stoop over under the willow tree and part her ass so her cunt would get open and wet, so that her father could stuff his very willing and big cock into her, and into her, and into her again.
He loved to withdraw it all the way and then jam it back all the way in, feeling the whole delight of re-entry from the tip to the bottom of the shaft again. He felt her clit go by—it felt like buttered bread, sliced, and his cock felt like the knife that was buttering it. He felt like a creature, half-man, half-beast, fucking his own twelve-year-old daughter. He felt like an old dog, and it was like an old dog, hoary, dirty, crusty with old come, lots of old come from lots of women, when he took a deep breath and shot his wad straight up into her cunt. He grabbed his shaft and his whole body rode his cock to glory.
He left her there that day, and many other days following. When he left her, he tied her to the tree more securely with her legs wrapped around it. He would come back at the end of the day to fuck her some more. He just couldn’t get enough of her.
She missed the last day of school because he wouldn’t let her go in.
The hours she spent tied to the tree, her “hitching post” as her father laughingly called it, were passed fantasizing about revenge. How could she go on living like this? Her father thought of her merely as a cunt, a receptacle for his male organ. Her mind, meanwhile, held cruel thoughts of dismemberment. She thought how she would tie him down and take the knife used for gelding the hogs.
But then she would hear the pick-up drive up, and she was torn between shame and anxiety and hope that it would be someone else, wandered down to this lonely bend in the river, and relief and disgust and shame, and hopelessness, when she would hear his familiar grunting laugh as he raised the curtain of willow branches to find his own personal, private cunt, tied up and waiting to service him. It was always with a sigh of relief that he unzipped his pants and let out the cockled creature that was cramped in the confinement of denim.
Every night, after such days of humiliation, she went out to the barn. Late at night when her parents were asleep, or her father was away catting around.
Lena’s mother seemed to have forgotten what she had practically witnessed that one night when her husband had simply dragged his daughter out to the barn. Or Mrs. Hanson’s brain could not digest the information. Perhaps she thought that she had just imagined it, or perhaps her own personal freedom from her husband’s sexual attention, after twenty years of fear, rose above her concern for her daughter’s safety. In any case, Mrs. Hanson did not mention the incident to either husband or daughter, and she did not ask where Lena spent her days.
Lena was quite obsessed with fucking Red Beauty now. And she also had turned to Black Pride for additional fucking-revenge. The horses had a strange partnership with her. Black Pride looked on with horse-like curiosity, his black eyes glinting in the starlight of the barn, as the young girl slipped off all her clothes to meet her animal lover in the nude. She brushed Red Beauty all over with the currycomb to make him beautiful and get him in the mood. The horse’s sweat from the day flicked off onto her own skin and sometimes she licked the drops of horse sweat off with her tongue, savoring the sour taste. She loved to play with the stallion’s furry sheath which housed his cock.
It was like a little furry bunting on a most slick, and unshy animal. When the horse’s penis started to protrude, called forth by her able hands, it looked like a slick roll of candy, like the rolls of candy she bought in the store sometimes, except that it was much thicker. It was so slick, much slicker than a human dick, that it was hard to hold it in her hands and she liked to stab in into her mouth, and to think of the wonder that she held a creature, a non-human by the cock in her mouth, and felt less disgust than she did at the same act forced upon her by her father’s member.
Sliding Red Beauty’s cock up the hole between her thighs, completely nude, she let her hair sweep in the straw below and she caressed her own lovely breasts.
“I hate you, I hate you,” she whispered in the dark to her absent father. “I hate you so much I prefer taking the dick of your best horses, your horses, father, your stallions, your stallions stick their cocks in me. I take their long wet horse dicks in my mouth and I enjoy it more, I enjoy it! I enjoy it more than your fat, horrid, hairy, smelly excuse for manliness could ever bring me.”
Red Beauty had been mounted by her so many times that he had evolved a way of pulling his cock in and out of her so that he could actually come too. The slick red penis, like a dog’s, couldn’t get entirely inside her, but the dick was stabbed in and out, while she clung to his underside, spreading her legs wide. The horse knew its own pleasure, too, she knew. For when it came, in a rush of horsecome, it whinnied and shook, and kicked up on its hind legs a bit, taking her for a ride and attempting to shove it into her woman’s inadequate vagina a little further, knowing the bizarre excitation of fulfilling the sexual urge with a creature not of your own species.
Black Pride she treated a little differently. Red Beauty looked on curiously, and with a little jealousy, she thought, the first time she made sexual advances to the second stallion.
Black Pride was very well hung, with balls that protruded around the sheath of his cock. Black Pride was a more high-strung creature, and Lena was afraid he might not allow her intimate touch. She approached his genitals very slowly, stroking him with the curry brush all over, first, braiding his mane, calming and exciting him at the same time. She spoke to him, in a low, fervent whisper, telling him the story of how her father raped her daily, and that the fornication of beast and daughter was a fitting revenge on a man whose soul was lower than a dog’s. The horse’s big white teeth grinned in his mouth and she knew he was ready and willing and able for she saw the bright red glint of his dick between his black balls. She slipped under his belly. Again, he was so tall she could bend over underneath him, and she back onto his cock, holding her cunt open with her hands, the way her father had taught her.
She thought of her father thrusting into her as she stood bending over, tied to the tree like an animal. It gave her pleasure to open her cunt now to an animal tied by the neck in a stall. Horse-cock slid into human pussy with great ease, as Red Beauty watched from the next stall. Black Pride’s cock was not quite as long as Red Beauty’s, but it was thicker by far, and she knew greater pleasure, for he could almost put it all the way in, and it really filled her up.
She thought of the slickness of the horses’ cocks and wondered why men’s cocks weren’t like that. Human male cocks were all dry, and human males were so dumb they didn’t know how to excite a cunt to make it wet first. They just shoved their dicks in and thought women enjoyed it!
Lena was coming with wonder at how anything less than this slick wet fuck, in the stable perfumed with fresh straw and horse and cow dung, could excite her. Her father’s bumbling fumbles down by the river, could not compare with the adeptness with which his stallions, which he rode out over the plain every day, stood still for his daughter, as she opened her cunt and spread her legs wide and stuck her stuff down over the horse’s willing cock. She slid in and out, back and forth, up and down, feeling the horse’s delicious wet dick part her cunt down the middle like a stripe of pleasure all down her body. When the horse creamed inside her, she creamed too, and when she put her panties on to sneak back to the house, horse come from her cunt filled her panties with cream as she walked.