DISCLAIMER:- The following text is sexually explicit and contains depictions of sexual acts that have been classified by the surgeon general as potentially dangerous and unhealthy. You must be a broad minded adult to read the text, and you must not make this text available to minors or to any person who does not wish to view it. Unprotected sexual relations with unknown partners is hazardous and we urge the use of condoms and safe sex at all times.

Crap.

I was so afraid I'd been knocked up last Saturday. I sneaked out of the house at 11, when mom and my stepdad were drunk (as usual). It was breezy and really warm outside for this time of year, so I wore my short baby-blue skirt and my white tank top that pulls up on my lil' tits. Two years ago, I was stuffing them with tissue. Now they can fill a champaigne glass.

Checking myself out before I left, I kept thinking what four or maybe five or six of my friends in class have said - that I look like a blue-eyed Natalie Portman! I was feeling really self-confident, and this was going to be the night I approached Mitch. He's varsity quarterback, and I'm sure he could have any girl he wants, and who the heck am I (as IF!) But I got this invite to his house, and heard his parents were out of town, and it's only a block away, and it was like no WAY am I gonna miss this.

Turns out the place is PACKED! I mean, folks in line to get in the house, kegs being opened in his garage, police in for noise control. Wow! It made Mitch seem more impossible to reach, but I had to have hope and faith that he'd be my soul-mate if he got to know me.

To build my confidence a little, I'd taken some dry gin from my stepdad's cabinet. I meant to sip it, but halfway to Mitch's house, it had fallen out of my shirt twice, and I was worried I'd get caught with it. I didn't want to throw it out, so it made sense just to 'prime the pump' and drink it all before I got there.

Like, fire! This stuff burned a hole in my throat. But it felt real warm in my tummy, like it was burning and working down there. In a couple minutes I finished the flask, and I had started jogging a little faster to Mitch's. By the time I was there, my tank top was just a little bit sweaty, and I untucked it from my blue skirt.

The line to get into Mitches house was crazy long. I waited for a few minutes, and started to feel a buzz warming in my head and down my back. I thought, his house is kinda like my mom and dad's house, maybe it's got a laundry room with access to the house from the garage. I headed there.

The music was pounding, it was like his windows would break. I went around the garage, and it was closed, but I saw some people at the side of the house and thought maybe I could get in his backyard from there. Wow, I thought how popular and how cool he was, it was like meeting a rock star or something with how hard to get in there!

Around the side smelled like weed, and there were a lot of black guys there. Mitch is not a racist at all, one of the things I think I would like about him if I can get to know him. It's like he can hang out with the black guys or the white guys on the football team with total ease. I thought, I'll be they got a way in there, and if not at least I can get Mitch to know how cool I am if I know some of the same back kids as him.

A skinny guy with dreds started talking to me immediately, asking if I wanted some toke. I smiled and felt kinda cool to be the only white girl over here in the shadowy part of the yard. I kept smiling and rolling my eyes in this way that says I'm totally familiar and above all this (!P) to make him think I'm cool.

Down the garage I could see an open window, to a bedroom I thought. ABout this time, though, I was starting to feel the burn in my tummy growing over the top of my head, like, towards my eyeballs. I was feeling really cloudy and burny.

I realized I totally forgot to remember the name of this dude who was talking to me. Had I even asked his name? Shit! Then to make matters worse, I realized he was like talking and I wasn't event listening to him. So I said 'yes'. Figured I'd catch up or equivocate later.

But he just fucking grabs me by the crotch! Right under my blue skirt! Perv!

I caught a slap across his dredlock face and was starting to run back to the front lawn, but he was saying "hey, dear, hey dar, come back here". He was kinda tugging at the back of my skirt. I knew I could run to the yard, and that gave me confidence, to show I wasn't racial or something, just drawing a line at a guy's thumb on my clit before I know his name, even if it's through panties. cmon.

I told him I was Mitch's friend, even if that's not exactly true yet, to show him I was cool but important.

I was kinda feeling an even warmer buzz now.

Then this black kid starts saying Mitch's name a lot, and talking so fast. And to make a long story short I got over to the side of the house, with his help. He was offering me some pot, and I was saying no, so he was giving his friends' liquor bottles to me and I swigged a bit and then he got me over to the house. I asked if Mitch was around there in the room, he said "shit yeah!" and said Mitch was right there in the bedroom.

At this point my memory isn't too great.

What I remember is cood dude pushing me up into the window, but that he was holding me by the crotch. Very grabby. And that as I went over the window sill, into the bedroom, that he was holding tight on the crotch of my panties. And basically, I think he finger fucked me and pulled off my panties, but that I was definitely feeling drunk.

Ok, what I know, for sure, besides that I was now drunk, is that I fell into the bedroom onto a twin bed, and that it was really, real bright light in there, and I was closing my eyes. The room was kind of spinning, and it was real bright. The music was atrociously loud.

I know I lost my virginity. There was big, very dark, very strong-looking black guy who had really huge hands, I remember, his hands were roughly combing over my body, grasping my breasts. I was slapping his hands away, or trying to, I remember, but my panties were gone, I guess Tyrone had pulled them off while I was falling up over the window sill and into the room.

Next three sensations. First this giant hand on my throat, choking my air off. I grabbed the wrist, and it felt like it was moving off my throat, but I still couldn't breathe so I guess not. The second was a huge, strong, long, angry dick fucking its way through my hymen. Hard. I think I remember screaming.

I was aware of the room spinning, I was aware of the strong black chest against my chin and mouth, I was aware of a spearing thread of flesh slidy shooting in and out of my cunt. I was deflowered. I was a trophy. I was a slidy whore cunt. I started to have this weird feeling, like I had an orgasm coming, but two minutes away. It was like I could see it coming over the horizon or something.

"Don't cum in me" I said. "Don't cum up inside me" I said, trying to be more clear. "Please, please get outta my cunnie" I drawled.

I just remember that I hoped my 2 minute orgasm would get here before he splashed his cum up in my vagina. But that doesn't mean I wasn't trying to fight and push him off me. I totally was. The room was just all spinny.

I tried to focus. I was in a brightly lit room, a bedroom, on a twin bed, just under the window I'd fallen out of. And it was like I'd fallen onto a big, big fuck plate for this broad shouldered black stranger.

There were several guys in the room, though. And on the twin bed to my right, I saw a naked chick, this red haired, long haired, light skinned, freckled girl. And Mitch was over her, fucking her with his prick!

I started mumbling, I know I was totally drunk. Don't cum in her, I think I was trying to say. Pretty pathetic, with my hips all tuned in to the forceful fuck of a lifetime I was getting from this strong black stranger.

It was much later when I woke up. The room wasn't spinning but my stomache felt awful. And my cunt felt burny-hurty.

So, now why I said "crap".

I can't remember all what happened at Mitch's. I think I had sex with Mitch, but I was all blubbery. I clearly had too much to drink, and there were way too many guys at the party. When I came home, I was sore, I was drippy, and I was very, very afraid. I am way to young to ge pregnant.

I was an idiot.

I was a fucking slut, a nobody, an idiot loser!

I felt this awful, scary, pinchy fear in my gut. And the worst part of it was my stepdad.

He is kind of scary. I mean, he's conservative, a leader in church, and someone who watches over me like an angel. But I have this uneasy fealing about how often he describes me as looking just like my mom.

He'd kill me, I thought, as I was slogging my way home.

He always talks about how he had a horrendous crush on Mom when he was a senior and she was a frosh. How he was following her, praying for her, worshipping her gorgeous ass and legs and little tits. How he'd stare at no one but her in the cheerleader field. How he always knew he'd be with her, and how afraid he was for her when she got knocked up pregnant before she could graduate.

The guy who did it, my real dad, no one talks about. I don't know him. My stepdaddy is the only one who stepped up to take care of my mom, to nurture and provide.

And the way he looks at me makes me feel like an ice cream cone. There, I said it. He has these hungry eyes all the time. And it's like a total contradiction, his lusty face and his sinner-beware attitude.

I didn't know how I'd deal with it coming home. God, I was so afraid I'd be pregnant.

Pregnant!

The more I thought about the night at Mitch's, the sicker I felt inside. The scareder. I know a big black guy had pounded his wad of cum in me. I think two or three others did, and I think one was Mitch but I couldn't say. Worst of all, I know the bright lights in there were for a camera. A white blond guy was filming Mitch humping that unconscious red-headed girl. I'm sure they filmed me too.

Shit, internet broadcast of my slutty virgin rape. Great. As if I could call it rape, really. It made me wonder what happened to mom. She never really talked about it, and I kind of had the feeling she was a rape victim, but maybe it was something more subtle. Something like this.

Somewhere, deep in my fog, it seemed like a good idea. Or at least, it seemed like a better idea than letting him find out I was fucked and pregnant. I kept thinking of my stepdad at the table, seeing me as I came in, as he always does.

I tied my tank-top up high over my belly button. I rolled the skirt up a half an inch more...

It's like I had this plan that my body didn't know or wasn't consulted about. When I walked, or stumbled side to side, into the kitchen of my house, I knew I was drunk and caught, and before I could translate, he was totally yelling.

Afraid he'd wake mom, I crawled up his body to stop his yelly face. And I kissed him, and yes, I tonged him.

Stepdaddy stayed perfectly still for about thirty seconds, while I kissed and sucked his lower lip. Then he threw me on the bed.

He called me by my mom's name, and he shot his long hard thin pole up into me. I mumbled, but couldn't brave myself to say 'don't cum' because the alternative was the black kid. I didn't know whose baby I was going to have, and I was frozen in panic. Dad even tried to pull out, I think, but I rode him. Drunk and high and wet, I ploughed onto him. He was trying to stand up at first but then he fell down on me and fucked me harder than he'd ever done anything in his life.

I was kind of thinking, he'd never know who was dad, and he'd never be able to sell anything. He was now under control.

But the thing is, I got my period ten days ago. I wasn't knocked up.

But daddy thinks I was.

And he's knocking. He's knocking at the door now. And I already have been taking his new $100/week salary.

Crap.

I'm fertile, it's Friday night, mom's unconsious drunk, and he's at the door. It's true, I look like a blue eyed Natalie Portman. I'm looking at myself on my bathroom closet mirror now. And I hear him fumbling with the lock.

At least, I have this flask.

I'm fucked.