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Sheryl Tried (MF, rp, v)
by Shitty Bottom

***

Sheryl tried hard to forget. About the roving hands that pulled her 
skirt down so roughly, nearly tearing it... about the cold muddy 
cement she had laid on... about the knife at her throat and the voice
that told her not to cry...

He hadn't even tried to be gentle, but had used her as a piece of meat,
sticking his cock into her with no fanfare whatsoever. Her panties had
been around her ankles and her knees had stuck out sideways awkwardly.
Her large breasts had been squashed against her chest by this big beefy
stranger's. And oh, how he had hurt her...

That was a year ago. She had only been fifteen years old, and she never
told anyone. She never told anyone because she blamed herself. After all,
she knew how attractive she was. She knew it had been stupid to wear that
short mini-skirt and the tank-top that ended just past the breasts. And
to top it all off, she had been walking down Woodward Avenue in Detroit,
a young, helpless white girl, all alone at midnight.

She never told anyone, only prayed she wouldn't get pregnet, or anything
worse. She spent the next six months a virtual shell, never leaving her
mom's apartment. Her grades in school plummeted. Her will to do anything
useful failed.

And then came the drugs. Oh, the sweet drugs! Where had they been her
whole life? First a little pot, then a lot. THen some alcohol to add to
the effect, and then finally the big 'H'. Heroine. It was expense, it 
was addictive... but she loved it.

Now, finally sixteen years old, able to drive. She got a nice car from
her mom after getting out of rehab. She had been sent there two months
before her birthday after she tried to commit suicide. There she was 
somehow able to beat the beast that is Dope, and get her life somewhat
back on track.

But there were still the dreams at night, the dreams that waited until she
was all alone again, like she had been that night. At first they had been
the worst nightmares she ever experienced, and she would wake up in a cold
sweat, sometimes even crying (the man's penis shoving into her, her back
being scraped on the asphalt, wanting to scream but afraid for her
life...). 

But then, for some reason... the dreams suddenly changed. Not dramatically
at first. But the dreams (grunting above her, 'bitch, slut, white-whore',
crushing her tits, rubbing her stomache...) became somehow... relaxing. It
was when this occured that she began having boyfriends again.

And then the dreams became almost... happy. She was finally able to look
at that part of her life without being afriad, and she was extatic. Life
was moving on! But then came the drugs (pushing, holding, trapping) and
life went downhill. She slept with a lot of boys her age, and some older
men, for money, sometimes, but never for pleasure. At least, never for her
own pleasure.

And now sixteen, a new life. Clean, and happy, and beautiful. But...
weren't the dreams different again, somehow? Yes, they were. Because now
she began waking up from real orgasms, REAL orgasms as she dreamed about
being raped (held, abused, cock inside virgin pussy). She began
fantasising about being raped all the time. What would it be like, to walk
alone down Woodward again?

Depression sat in after a month of Camelot, so she made up her mind. Short
tight mini-skirt, very short tank-top that didn't even pass her tits. Make
up all nice, innocent expression...

Midnight, on Woodward, all alone. Again. A white girl in a black man's
territory. Bums in the alleys watch her carefully, pedestrians (there
aren't many) take notice. "She's asking for it" they all think.

She suddenly knows she's being followed. She purposely takes a shortcut
down a dangerous back alley. It doesn't take long...

Grabbed from behind, slammed against the wall. Switch blade to her throat,
rough hands pull up her skirt and yank down the panties. Thrown to the
muddy cement ground, rude words come from the stranger's lips. He climbs
on top of her; she can hear his pants unzipping. 

Her breasts being pulled vioulently, and she grows wet with excitement. As
his hard member finally begins poking at her pussy lips she has to bite
back words of encouragement and instead demand to be let free. She knows
he won't.

Cock up inside her know, her arms pinned painfully behind her back. His
wieght presses against her as he forces inch after inch of his meat into
her, she screams and he demands silence, if only he knew the screams were
of pleasure.

Fucked in, and out, in and out, her tits pulled on violently by his free
hand. His lips come down on hers <this is new> and he bites, bites her
tounge hard, drawing blood. He demands her silence...

He's still pressing it into her, and she struggles to force her legs wider
apart. She won't be able to take it all, she thinks! SHe's too small! He
grabs her waist for support with his free hand and begins to slowly grind
in the remaining inches...

Suddenly her pussy seems to swallow it up whole. She sighs loudly in
satisfaction  as her body surges with orgasmic energy. She feels tired,
spent. She would like a few minutes to regroup.... but suddenly her now
very sensitive clitty is being rubbed on over and over as her fucks deep
into her, then pulls out, then slams it home again, over and over and
over....

Minutes pass and she bites her tounge to keep silent from screaming
through several orgasms. But suddenly he pulls out, leaving only the head
inside her throbbing pussy lips... there's suddenly silence as the rap out 
of her. Somewhere she hears him say something, but then there's something
cold, and metal against her throat...

...her rapist was also a murderer.

-S.B.
