Dog Star’s 
RUNAWAY
I didn’t see her until she was near my car. I’d stopped at the Interstate rest area to piss and get a Coke. I was sipping the first of that Coke standing by my car when she walked by. She was petite enough that it was difficult to guess her age, but I pegged her at fourteen or fifteen at the most. She had that feral look of someone on the run, so I figured her for just that, a runaway. Who or what she was running from I had no idea. But I knew what I had to do.
“You want a ride?” I asked.
She jumped when I spoke, so it took a few seconds before she said anything in reply. “Where ya goin’?”
“Upstate,” I said as vaguely as I could answer her.
She thought about it for a moment, then said “Okay” and opened my back door, throwing her knapsack on the back seat like she owned the car. “You leaving soon?”
I smiled and said, “Your wish is my command.” I climbed in and placed my Coke in the cup holder. She got in the passenger side and immediately eyed the opened soda. “Have some if you want,” I said, “or would you want your own?”
She picked up the can and drained the rest of it in one long gulp. With a belch, she said, “Sorry, I was thirsty.” What could I do but chuckle?
I drove off in silence, taking every chance I had to sneak a glance her way, trying to get a measure of this obviously underage girl and what I’d gotten myself into. Her dirty blond hair was gathered into an unruly pony tail. Her good-sized tits were well on display in the tight tank top she wore. Her jeans told a tale of an ass a little too skinny for my taste, but I knew I’d never do just that—taste it. Of course she was checking me out too.
After a few miles I said, “You got a name?”
She looked at me cautiously, but said “I’m Lena, named after my grandma.”
“I’m Dylan, named after Bob.” She had no clue. “Do you know where you’re going, or does it matter?”
“I guess it really doesn’t matter, as long as it’s farther away.”
“It’s not my business why, but I reckon I do get to ask one question. You’re not running away from the law, are you?”
“You know what, Mister, that’s not the question I thought you’d ask, so you’re still not on my shit list.”
“Considering I’m giving you a ride, I figure I should have immunity from bein’ on that list.”
She smiled and said, “Okay, but don’t think you’re getting anything else.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll respect your honor, young lady.”
In the ensuing miles, I tried to get her to open up about why she was running, but she stayed quiet. In turn, I told her all about me; how I lost my job and was heading north in speculation of getting work. Why I told her about my failed marriage and the subsequent divorce was beyond me. Maybe it was simply catharsis, getting all of life’s frustrations off my chest, though why I dumped them on this young stranger had me baffled. I certainly couldn’t impress her with my tales of woe.
An hour later I broached the subject of her destination once more. “You know, sooner or later you have to tell me where you’re going.”
“I honestly don’t know, so I’ll go as far as you’re going. Is that okay?”
I told her it was fine, but as I grew hungry and tired of driving, I mentioned stopping at a motel. Point blank, I asked what she was going to do. “I don’t have much money. I’m assumin’ you ain’t got any money yourself, so I can spring for a cheap meal but only one motel room. If you want to stay with me, I’ll sleep on the floor.”
She looked at me as she had before. “You aren’t thinking about me having to pay you back, are you?”
“No, girl, I’m not thinking sex. No pay back. I’m just tired and cranky and I’d feel better if I got back on the road in the morning with a decent night’s sleep.”
We stopped in the next town, finding an okay motel across the street from a Denny’s. I bought us each a little supper, which she ate quietly, picking at it first before wolfing it down, though she did thank me for it. I tried to get her to talk about what she was running from, but she remained tight-lipped on the subject. I checked into the motel, but kept “the wife” in the car and out of sight, though the night manager probably couldn’t have cared less.
The room was plain but clean, and the AC worked just fine even if it made too much noise. We had two double beds so I asked her if she wanted the one closest to the john. She gave it some thought, probably weighing the pros and cons of where the dirty old man who gave her a ride would be. “Sure, I’ll take that one,” she finally replied.
“You can shower first if you want,” I said.
This girl didn’t answer even the simplest of questions without figuring out all the ramifications of her decision, but after several pregnant seconds she said, “Sure.”
I flicked on the TV and settled on a news station, though why I needed bad news was beyond my understanding. I pondered my own decision to give the girl a ride. If she yelled rape I’d be screwed for sure, so I definitely was at some risk here. I was a dumb-ass for feeling sorry for her. Maybe that’s what will be on my tombstone someday: “Here lies a dumb-ass.” I nearly leapt out of my socks when she came out of the shower wearing only a towel around her bottom half. She had the cutest little tit-cones I ever saw, standing up firm and high (as Bob Seger sang about) topped by beautiful puffy nipples. I shouldn’t have been looking but couldn’t stop myself.
“Whoa, girl, what are you trying to prove?”
“I didn’t bring anything in there to put on, so turn around if you don’t wanna see.” I did just that, turned around until she threw on an oversized tee, which I guess was to be her nightdress.
“Oh boy, Lena. I guess we got that out of the way,” I said to her.
“What do you mean? Finding out if I could get you hard?” She laughed, and then said “At least now I know you ain’t gay.”
I shook my head and didn’t take the bait. Instead, I showered. We watched TV for a while. She kept asking me if we could watch one of the pay-per-view porn films. Whether or not she was only teasing, I told her I couldn’t afford it.
With us both tucked into our beds, her with her thin nightshirt and me with nothing (I always slept in the nude) with the lights out, she said, barely above a whisper “Thanks, Dylan. You’re a nice man to give me a ride and pay for food and letting me stay with you tonight.
I had difficulty falling asleep, though whether it was the girl’s presence or my usual discomfort in a new bed in a different motel room I couldn’t tell. Eventually I slept. Sometime during the night I came awake quickly when I felt someone spooning behind me with their arm around my waist. When I jumped, Lena awoke with an equal start, though hers was groggier than mine.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She pouted and said, “I was scared by a bad dream, and I was a little cold, and you were right there…”
I chuckled but laid back down on the bed. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Up on one elbow, she asked, “Why don’t you try something with me? I’d let you, you know.”
Since I was naked under the covers, I wondered if she’d checked out my equipment when she came into my bed. “Like I told you before, I’m not going to. You’re running away from something bad, I figure, and you don’t need an old dude making a pass at you.”
“ ‘Making a pass,’ man, is that lame. You mean ‘fuck’ or ‘hook up’ don’t you?”
“You sure are making things hard for me, you know. Laying next to me with only that big ol’ t-shirt between us.”
“Are you? Hard, that is?” she said as she reached to touch my cock under the covers. She found out.
“Let’s call a truce, okay?” I said. “You can sleep with me in this bed but no touching and no sex, alright?” She nodded, and then I wondered what sort of abuse she may be running from, and how it affected her potentially promiscuous sexuality. I didn’t sleep much, feeling her body heat as she clung to me, snoring ever so lightly. I was hard practically the whole night.
Morning came much too quickly. She teased me by waiting for me to get out of bed first, now knowing that I slept naked. “You really are a strange dude, you know,” she said in that wry way of hers. “Nice cock for an old dude though,” she said as an afterthought.
Of course I asked the stupid question, “How many cocks have you seen, girl?”
Her face darkened as if a storm cloud passed overhead. “Enough,” was her enigmatic answer.
I looked into my wallet as if I were staring into the abyss. Since I didn’t have much cash left, maybe an abyss was a good metaphor. Throwing financial caution to the wind, I sprang for breakfast at Denny’s. Later, I checked out and we hit the road once more. I waited a few miles before asking Lena again what she wished to do.
“Can I stay with you, Dylan? When we get to where you’re going I can get a job and help pay my way.”
“Lena, sweetheart, you can’t stay with me. I’m asking for trouble harboring you like I am…running away from whatever at your age. And it’s not like I have anything stable lined up either.”
As we climbed into my car, she finally said, “You’re not ‘harboring’ me. It’s not like I’m a criminal or whatever. I…I…just need to get away from…” She didn’t finish.
“From who? Lena, please tell me who or what you’re running from. Please.”
She began crying as I started the car. I didn’t wait, for how would I know she would tell me the truth anyway. I must have driven five miles before she said, almost in a whisper, “My father.” I cast a quick glance over at her but didn’t say anything. Another mile went by and then she said “I didn’t really understand all those times he came to my bedroom at night. It hurt so much but he was my dad, after all, so I did what he wanted me to do.” Now that she started talking, it all flowed out. “Back when I was like nine or ten, I didn’t know shit about sex. Then one night he was fucking me and I had…I had…an orgasm. It was the first time it like felt good. I was so damned confused but he was furious. He got all pissed off and called me a whore. It’s like all that time I was supposed to be hurt…to be his, like, little cum-bucket or something. God forbid his little fuck-buddy daughter actually ENJOYED it.” It was like she was out of breath.
I asked “Where was your mom all this time?”
She scoffed, “My mother? You mean my pimp, the woman who was happy he was doing me instead of her?”
I didn’t say anything, just shook my head.
She went on, “Yeah, like I guess he couldn’t actually have me enjoying straight sex, so that’s when he started doing me up the ass. There were like whole weeks I couldn’t sit without a heap of pain. When he got tired of that, he started stuff like hanging me to get his jollies.”
“Hanging?”
“Yeah, like he would tie my hands behind me and put a rope around my neck. This was in a room in the basement. He had a pulley thing set up and he would hoist me up and I would choke and black out, but when I came to, I knew he’d fucked me ‘cause I was sore, besides the headaches and the bruises around my neck and the piss on my legs, I mean.” I couldn’t believe what she was telling me, though her tears and her body language sure seemed sincere. It was tough enough to concentrate on my driving with her telling me all of this. After some silence, she said “I feel like I’m a sicko…he did those things to me…hurt me so much, and yet…I…liked it, the sex part I mean. I had to get away…but maybe it’s too late already.”
“It’s never too late for anything, Lena. Maybe I’m a livin’ example of that.” She looked at me quizzically, so I explained, “You might not think to look at me but I was so much into drugs I lost everything. You might say I’m into reinventin’ myself.”
“So, you’re running too, I guess,” she said. I agreed that in my own way, I was. After a few more miles, she once again asked if she could stay with me. “I don’t know where else to go, or like, what I’m gonna do.”
I told her I’d think about it
When we reached the upstate town that had become my hope’s destination, I drove to my friend’s house. Billy was the person who told me about jobs and new beginnings, and saying I could stay with him while I got my feet on the ground. Lena certainly wasn’t in the equation.
Billy welcomed me warmly but when I asked about Lena, he surprised me. Instead of any reservations, he looked like he wanted to rape her right there in his foyer. Now I was the one with reservations. Billy showed me my room. There was no other spare bedroom. Billy left us alone to stow our meager belongings, so Lena and I discussed the reality of the sleeping arrangements.
When I told her I’d sleep on the floor, she said, “Don’t be silly. We can like sleep together without it being sex, right? Just like last night at the motel.”
“But Billy’ll think we are…having sex I mean.”
“Does it matter to you what Billy thinks? I mean, I saw how he looked at me. If he thinks we’ve hooked up then he probably will leave me alone.”
She had a point.
Billy fed us while explaining about the jobs I should apply for the following day. I asked about a job for Lena, and he made a few suggestions. As delicately as I could, I obliquely asked if age would be an issue at the places he suggested. He mentioned a local restaurant that would easily hire Lena without asking about her age, hinting that her employment would be an under-the-table deal. That would work out well, since no paper trail would exist for the father to use in finding her. In conversation we explained to Lena how we’d met and became friends. In turn, Billy probed to find out how Lena and I ended up together. He wasn’t stupid, and he surely figured out her age, even giving me a “You old devil you” token of envy.
It was very awkward going to bed with Lena. For her part, she was even more nonchalant about nudity in front of me than she’d been at the motel. I told her to keep covered and she simply smiled and made comments about my prudishness. Wearing only tiny, lacy panties and nothing else, she curled up next to me in bed.
“Don’t you want me?” she asked.
Since I had a seriously stiff erection, I admitted the obvious. “But after what you told me, I figured you’d want nothing to do with someone old enough to be your father, and besides, I don’t have a condom.”
“That’s it, you’re NOT my father. You’re the sweetest man in the world, who helped me without immediately wanting to fuck me.” She paused, and then with a wry grin, added “Didn’t I tell you that I liked it.” She never said anything about condoms.
When she kissed me, it only took a few seconds of contemplation before I succumbed. We kissed forever until coming up for air, I said, “You don’t have to repay me, you know?”
In a rather hoarse voice, she said, “This isn’t repayment.”
I kissed her body all over, exploring every inch of her youthfulness. I sucked on nipples that once had been pinched. I kissed her neck that had once been encircled by a noose. I licked her belly that had once been punched. I nibbled on her clit that had once been abused beyond any amount of reason. When I saw a bruise or a scar, my lips paid particular attention to the spot.
This variable of sex was foreign to her. At one point she whispered “When are you going to…”
I whispered back, “I already am.” I kept kissing and nibbling all over her body before asking her if she liked what I was doing.
“Oh yes,” she murmured. She may as well have been a virgin. I needed to go slowly. That’s what she, in her own adolescent way, was looking for; tenderness, not more rape.
When I returned to her clit, I sucked and nibbled until she exploded. She didn’t necessarily scream (it was more of a yelp) as the orgasm surprised her even more than it surprised me by its suddenness.
“Wow!” she exclaimed as she was coming down from her orgasmic high. “It never felt like THAT.”
“It’s just what the doctor ordered,” I said.
She looked at my extremely stiff cock and said “Aren’t you gonna put it in me?”
I held her face between my hands, saying “I’m okay. I wanted to let you know that sex with me isn’t about what I want. Do you understand?”
She nodded but I didn’t think she got it yet. She had a lifetime of abuse to overcome. When she began crying, I held her in my arms and let her sob. Eventually she whispered “Dylan, you’re too nice to me. I don’t get it, like, why you gave me a ride, why you helped me. I know you can get into trouble because of me, and still you haven’t like tried to fuck me.”
“You know, you’re like an angel who appeared to this old man, and there’s nothing I’d rather do than make love to you as many times as the Good Lord is willing to let me. But, that’s the thing, in my book it’s called ‘makin’ love’ for a reason. It should be special and not just getting your rocks off.” The look in her eyes was magic, and maybe I wasn’t blowing smoke talking about love like I did. She has got to my heart in the past two days, and no matter what happens now, she may be there a bit of forever.
“I can make you feel good, you know,” she said. She must have seen the look on my face, for she added quickly “Yeah, he made me do that too, but I don’t ever want to think of him again. I’m laying next to you now and it’s what I want to do.”
She went down there and slid my aching unit between her tender, quivering lips. I wasn’t expecting a pro, and she wasn’t one. She only had one ‘teacher’ and that was her damned father. I moaned a few choice ‘coaching’ tips and before long I felt the tell-tale tightening of my balls. “I’m gonna cum,” I groaned as a warning. She surprised me by not pulling away, instead taking me deeper into her mouth in warm, wet splendor. Her head jerked reflexively a little when I began to ejaculate, but otherwise like a trooper she took it all, and I do mean ALL, since I had a good load stored up after such a long time.
She gazed up at me with cum dribbling from her smiling lips. After an audible swallow, she said, “I wanted to make you feel good,” as more of my semen dribbled down her chin.
“You already made this old coot feel good long before you did what you did.”
“Did I do a good job?”
“The best, sweetheart, the best.” I surprised her by pulling her up to me and kissing her. The cum still on her lips didn’t bother me none, though I figured that’s what surprised her about it.
We slept like that, all entwined. It’d been a long time since I literally slept with a woman, and this young lady sure felt nice in my arms.
Billy had coffee going before we awoke. What happened between us last night was still a blur, a new taste to be chewed on and savored, so when I climbed into the shower and she suddenly joined me, I was as dumbstruck as a pimply teenager. She took the soap and washed me all over. When my dick responded, she smiled and told me she liked me too.
Without boring you with all the details, Lena and I both were successful in landing jobs. Billy allowed us to stay with him a few more weeks until we pooled enough to rent a small apartment in town. I know Billy wanted to know more about the girl, but bless his heart he didn’t push it. When we got the keys to the apartment, he even talked a friend of his into giving us some old furniture, so all we had to buy immediately was bedding and linen. We scraped by.
The first night in our new place, Lena came to me wearing the oversized t-shirt she’d had on that night in the motel and nothing else. “Remember, Dylan?”
“How could I not remember,” I said. “You are so damned pretty, girl, I still don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it.”
She helped me out of my clothes, saying “You’re not so bad for an old man.”
I said, “I ain’t that old,” and she laughed. It was a sweet sound; one now that I heard it, couldn’t live without.
We made love in the missionary position. At first she was predisposed to doggie, but that was from the nature of her submission to her father’s whims. I told her I wanted to look into her eyes as we did it, and that was okay by her. I always went slowly, but then she’d teasingly complain that she wasn’t some china figurine that I’d break, and soon I was going faster and faster, my hips pumping and her legs shaking in the air. When I felt myself getting close, I’d slow down and let her catch up. I’d never been much good at timing my orgasms to the woman I was with, but somehow this time—this special time at the beginning of a new chapter in my life—Lena and I came together, and we made a lot of noise doing it.
She said, “Now it’s a home,” like maybe we christened the apartment with our lovemaking.
I’d be foolish to think her scars were eradicated. Lena would turn inwards every once in a while and I learned to keep my distance as she worked out the inner turmoil. I knew it wasn’t me she was conflicted with. After all, her sadistic father and her idiot, enabling mother were still out there, presumably looking for her. We paid close attention to the news outlets and the web, but never saw anything about her disappearance, though that didn’t mean she wasn’t an official missing person.
She said one day, “Do you think they ever, like looked for me at all?”
“I’m sure they did, sweetheart,” was all I could say.
As domestic as we were, we never could be that social, since her young age was quite obvious and we couldn’t take a chance someone would snoop into the relationship of the old dude and the teenager who lived with him. I’ve always been sort of a loner, but I sensed the isolation was getting to Lena.
One day I asked her. “I wish I knew how to make you happier without also putting you in harm’s way.”
“You’ve done everything you can for me,” she said. Dylan, honey, I can’t ever let you get in trouble for helping me out like you have.”
I loved how she called me honey. We kissed after that, and when she felt my growing bulge, suggested the bedroom. I am forever being amazed by her easy arousal. I’m far from being a psychologist, but I take pride in knowing my role in her recovery. The psychological scars are still there, some buried deeper than others. Sharing a bed means I share the aftermath of her nightmares. There were no nightmares this evening, only precious love. She always said how she liked being on top, so that’s how we did it most times. Like today, I’d lay back and watch her marvelous teen body swing, sway and bounce. Being on top—being in control—distanced her from memories of her father’s abuse, at least to my simple mind. Under the onslaught of her father’s relentless sadism Lena had no control whatsoever. That’s why when we had sex, I let her lead. I’d watch how her eyes weren’t completely closed, how they were rolled back in the sockets until she began the tell-tale shaking signaling the onset of her orgasm, and her mouth flew open in a silent scream.
Invariably, that’s when I would ejaculate. Her convulsing vagina could milk the cum right out of me.
Maybe I didn’t want to think of it, burying it deep into my sub-conscience, but this lovemaking was different. No condom and no thought of her cycle.
I seemed to have dodged a bullet, since we lived together for over two years without anyone finding her, without me ending up in jail, and without Lena getting pregnant.
As the pain and memories peeled away, she became bolder and more experimental with sex, to the point there were times I couldn’t keep up with her. I thought she finally enjoyed sex for what it was, and not encumbered by memories and scars of abuse. When one time she asked me to choke her for a heightened orgasm, it was me who had to overcome reluctance, having heard her stories of what her father did to her. She had to beg me to be more firm. When she came though, it was with such intensity her entire body shivered for more than a minute, and she nearly passed out from the orgasm, not from being choked.
We had a decent life going. We didn’t have much money, our jobs weren’t anything to brag about, yet she seemed to be happy with me and that’s all I could ask for. Her journey from psychologically scarred childhood to now certainly made her unlike any other teen her age. She really had become a stunner, way beyond the scruffy girl I gave a ride to that fateful day at the highway rest stop.
You might say it was inevitable. You might say I was delusional in thinking that we had a future together.
She met Barry.
Barry had taken a job where Lena worked. He was twenty, with youthful exuberance, and a focused wildness that I couldn’t match in a million years. He came into town on a Harley and told everyone he wanted to see the country before he ever settled down. Lena may have fallen for him anyway, but that was the same time we saw the article in a downstate newspaper. It was about long-missing kids, and Lena was featured. The pictures of a younger girl, the pain and fear on her cherub face exposed for all to see, may not have looked like she did today but she couldn’t take any chances. She started bugging me about moving.
One day she came home real late and was particularly aglow. Without any jealousy or rancor I asked her if she’d been with Barry. She sheepishly admitted it. That’s when I made the most painful decision of my pitiful life. I told her it was okay.
“You shouldn’t be stuck with an old coot like me. That’s no future for you. Barry seems like a fine young man, and you need to get out of here, at least until you’re eighteen. If you like him as I think you do, go with him when he leaves, okay?”
“I love you Dylan,” she said with tears in her eyes. “I never thought I’d ever love anyone, but you did more for me than I ever deserved.”
“Don’t say that, sweetheart. You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you. You’re the one who gave me so much these past few years.”
She tried to make a joke of it, saying how else would I have gotten some good teenage pussy, but her heart wasn’t into the teasing. We made love for the last time that night. I’d never fucked a woman like that before, since it was more R-rated movie sex than X-rated. Our orgasms were mixed with tears and we never let go of each other all night.
We made a pack of her meager things. Barry didn’t know how to act or what to say when he picked her up the next morning, knowing that the girl he had obviously laid had been living with me. I helped tie her stuff to his on the Harley. Words wouldn’t have meant much anyway, so all we did was kiss before she climbed on behind her new man.
Finally, over the muted rumble of the V-Twin, she said, “I’ll always love you, Dylan. More than you’ll ever know.”
I didn’t say anything, simply pointing to my heart, where she would always be.
After they rode off, I never saw her again. I believed the beast known as her father would’ve found her by now if he’d really tried, so I thought she was safe, wherever she was. I moved to another town for a better job soon after she left, so if she wrote to me I wouldn’t have had a way to get it, which was probably for the best.
My dreams were of a young teen who repaid me not with sex, but with love, though my dreams were often accompanied by an erection.
“Wherever you are, Lena,” I said to the wind one day, “you’ll always be with me.”
The End
© 2011 Dog Star karenthefreespirit@yahoo.com