Jennifer's Obsession: Memories

Not much time had passed when the hand that held Ken's now limp cock started to move – she was yet to feel a cock inside her and her pussy, now with the appetiser out of the way, was ready for the main course. She hoped Ken hadn't raced ahead and already ate dessert. Ken turned to face her and licked his lips. Jennifer felt his cock begin to fill her hand. She took a moment to look at herself – slouched back into the sofa with nothing on but a ruffled-up dress placed around her waist like a belt, her legs were spread wide with her pussy on full view, there was a man's manifestation of sexual satisfaction on her face and hair, she was holding a cock like one of those girls in a porno, oh, and as she stretched her left leg out horizontally she noticed she still had her stilettos on. She had trouble believing what she was seeing, but how she felt confirmed it must be right - she felt dirty, naughty, wicked even, and all she could think about was having someone fuck her, hard and long.

Ken rolled over onto his side, his hand clasping tightly onto Jennifer's vacant mound as he did so. Jennifer raised her pelvis into his hand, wondering what it must feel like to have a cock sliding in and out of her. A finger slipped into her, giving her some idea. She thought, but it's not just the physical feeling, is it? It's the thought of some guy entering you, fucking you, taking you, deflowering you, penetrating your purity with a rod of evil, defiling you, violating all that is sacred.... She suddenly noticed she was fucking Ken's finger instead of the other way around, and continued.

Ken was hard again, but not like earlier. It'll come, she thought, envisioning herself being taken like some medieval bride, although the 'taker' would be a Samurai in this case. Jennifer rose to her feet and released Ken's cock, although Ken maintained his hold on her pussy. "Let's go to bed," she said. Ken got to his feet, gave Jennifer's pussy a little squeeze, and pulled his trousers up but left his cock pointing out horizontally. Jennifer smiled at his piece, turned, and led the way. As they climbed the stairs Jennifer could feel Ken's eyes burning on her uncovered, firm behind and wiggled it that little bit more. Ken didn't notice any of the family photos that hung on the walls of the stairway.

Jennifer's bedroom was a typical girlie one, all flowery and pink – you could just make it out from the moonlight that flooded in through the tall, panelled window. What appeared to be beauty products littered the furniture as did cuddly toys, but there did seem to be an air of maturity about the place, for a just-turned eighteen-year-old that is. Jennifer glanced out from the window and was greeted by the brilliant full moon with its accompanying stars strewn recklessly across the ink-black autumn sky. She glanced downwards to catch a glimpse of the frost that coated the garage roof; it twinkled in the moonbeams like glitter. Jennifer at last stripped herself of the 'belt' she was wearing. Ken, following her lead, quickly stripped himself and stood there like a boxer waiting for the bell to sound. Jennifer eyed Ken up and down; the moonlight drew quite a picture. His build was fairly slight but exceedingly well proportioned, and his muscles were very well-toned. She began to imagine him on her, his vice-like grip holding her down..."Ken, you go out of the room for a moment, then I want you to come in, and fucking fuck me," Jennifer snarled, trying to reinforce what she was saying with hand gestures. "Okay," Ken replied, nodding his head rapidly and then running for the door.

Jennifer led out on the bed, making a point of noticing how the cotton beneath her felt on her bare skin. She spread her legs and reached her arms out to her sides before changing her mind and moving her arms to directly above her where she could grip the wooden balusters of the headboard. She imagined herself being tethered, helpless, to the bed with her opened legs giving her a sense of undeniable vulnerability. (Jennifer's strict upbringing had firmly attached the words sex, and disgraceful, together with an unbreakable link, but if she were helpless to prevent fornication taking place then surely it must be he that is disgraceful and Jennifer, merely an innocent victim of someone's uncontrollable carnal desires.)

The bedroom door swung open and a shadowy figure approached. As he neared, the moonlight cast shadows on his taut body giving him the appearance of being chiselled from granite. This is it, Jennifer thought, the anxiety making her close her legs a little. She hoped he would be gentle, like in the films, but then the thought of getting fucked like some dirty, no-good slut seemed a better alternative. Her pussy suddenly felt more fleshy, making her legs open a little. Ken led beside her, sliding his one leg underneath hers and his other leg over it. She could feel his 'bits' on her thigh. With his fingers he stroked her one arm. Jennifer watched him, the moment of penetration dominating her mind. His fingers made their way down over her breast, circled her nipple, down her belly, and onto the inners of her thighs. Jennifer tightened her grip on the balusters, convinced she was helpless. Suddenly Ken rolled onto her. Jennifer flinched a little and her breathing deepened. Ken nuzzled between her legs, his cock laying over her pussy. Jennifer opened her legs a little wider, lifting her knees up in the air a little in readiness to receive his sinful gift. She turned her head to one side as Ken tried to kiss her. Puzzled, Ken tugged at her arms; they wouldn't budge. "Games?" Ken said in a way that didn't warrant an answer. Jennifer closed her eyes tightly as she felt his hand slide down between them, to his cock. She could feel the tip of it probing about at her lips, partially thrusting forward every so often, seeking its destination. His cock had regained its initial vigour of earlier now, it was hard. She writhed about a little as some sort of token gesture to resisting pleasures of the flesh. It helped – Ken slipped an inch or so into her. She Felt herself peel open, and froze. Ken stopped for a second, and then steadily thrust into her stiff body. She felt every inch, and there were at least six, slide in and fill her up. As their pubic bones met, her body went limp with relief – she had a cock buried deep in her and nothing bad had happened, or so she thought. Ken looked down on her as he slid in and out a few times, his face a picture of supreme dominance. Jennifer concentrated on the feeling of being fucked for the first time. The more she thought of herself being fucked, the wetter she got. Ken sensed the new ease with which he penetrated her. He quickly got off her and flipped her over onto her belly, pinning her down with his one hand on her upper back. His other hand guided his cock into her from behind. Jennifer, wide-eyed, lifted her pussy a little to assist access. This time Ken hammered into her so hard it forced Jennifer's mouth open. She reached for the balusters again but missed this time; he was in and out and back in again so quick and so hard, she didn't have chance to get a grip. He placed his hands on the top of hers, putting his weight on her – she didn't have to pretend now, she really was helpless. Ken started to pound her brutally and with the same speed he'd worked his tongue on her earlier. Jennifer was getting fucked, really fucked. Ken groaned louder and louder, as did the slapping of bare flesh. His cock seemed harder still as it steamed in and out of her, piston-like. She tried to move but couldn't. Her helplessness seemed to make her pussy more welcoming to Ken's plundering cock. He drilled into her wilder still. Her mound engorged like she'd never known before. She could feel his breath on the back of her shoulder, hear his growls of pleasure grow, and grow, and grow. His grip tightened on her and his cock struck deeper into her and deeper still. She couldn't move – she tried but couldn't. He was having his way with her, fucking her, holding her down and fucking her. Jennifer started to cry out "no, you dirty fucker, what're you doing to me?" He fucked her more still. The bliss of filth filled her pussy with feeling; she was cumming. Ken's superlative, forceful rhythm continued. Jennifer's taut body spread on the bed, paralysed, under the order of ecstasy that for now, ruled her. "Ohhhh, fuck, fucking fuck, fuck," she cried as Ken continued to 'defile' her. She was oblivious to what Ken might be doing, she didn't care – he was, at this moment, filling her up. Moments later, Ken flopped onto her and gradually rolled off, their union making a squelching sound as it came undone. Young Jennifer lay belly down and limp, barely conscious, and genuinely fucked for the first time – she could die now for all she cared at this particular point. The proof of fornication leached out onto the sheet beneath.

Jennifer slowly opened her eyes, the light of day stinging them a little. The theme tune to 'Tell Tony' was playing again – it was the ending, she'd missed the show. The first thing she noticed was her gown; it barely covered her. She tried to sit herself up on the sofa but there was something between her legs. She looked down to see a banana, half inside her. "Memories...." she whispered to herself, smiling as she flopped back into the sofa, leaving the banana where it was.

She eventually dragged herself back to reality. Sex, she thought, no matter what race, religion, whatever the differences, the prospect of sex seems to..... strip them all away. I can't think of anything else with the same power.....except perhaps money......and that's the root of all evil. Mmm....she sighed, pensively.

She removed the banana, put right her gown, and went to fetch the mail, disposing of the banana as she went. It was a letter for Andrew, not that she'd noticed – her 'recollection' had temporarily slighted her ability to concentrate. As she returned to the living room she tore open the letter, wondering what had become of Ken after all these years – she'd never seen him again after that night, and she liked it that way. She stopped at the window; it was still raining. Probably married to some pretty little Japanese girl, couple of kids, the usual thing I expect, she thought as she glanced down at the letter. She went cold and her stomach felt as if she'd just been disembowelled by a medieval executioner.

XXX

Next week – Paying the Price

© 2004 Kayleigh Combstock