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| Shit, what a pair of boobs!” Diane never fully knew what happened next. She was staring down at the floor, her vision blurred by the stinging tears of utter despair that trickled wetly down her cheeks. Suddenly there was someone with her on the shaky stage, then another . . . and still another. She looked up just as one of the drunken Saturday-night revelers grabbed for her breasts; a scream lodged in her throat but it was drowned in the deafening roar of wanton arousal that cheered him on as he hotly fondled her naked breasts. “Man, they’re soft like a couple of kittens!” he drawled, his eyes wide with lust and glazed with the hope of something more than a feel . . . he wanted all of it, he wanted his cock in her tight little pussy, the stuck-up bitch! He was a complete stranger to her, not even a face that she remembered seeing in the time that she had been at Sal’s, but he was known to the others and they called him by name and urged him on. “C’mon, Leroy . . . show the little lady what a country boy special looks like!” a busty blonde with teased and frosted hair shouted shrilly, her eyes flickered with the ecstasy of some forbidden memory. He grinned back at her and tipped his sweat-stained cowboy Stetson at her politely, then zipped down his blue jeans and wriggled his half-erect cock from inside. A few of the men shouted their approval, and a couple of the women looked away —the ones with their husbands too close to risk a furtive peek. But even those women, managed a quick glance before modestly looking aside. One bosomy brunette with curly hair and thick makeup whistled like a drugstore cowboy leering at a pretty pair of legs. Diane watched numbly, unable to comprehend what was happening, until he started to move closer with the thick, blood-heated pole of his cock gripped in his two fists like a medieval weapon. “No, no!” she screamed hysterically. “Please!” And as if some divine benevolence had intervened, the stage suddenly heaved drunkenly like the bow of a small boat in a squall and the whole makeshift affair tumbled sideways onto the saw dust floor, knocking people and drinks and tables in a dozen different directions at once. Diane sensed rather than saw an opening . . . her unconsciousness running wildly on the surge of adrenalin that poured into her frightened body. She darted like a rabbit before the hounds, furtively, desperately, in a head-long rush for the door before the confusion deprived her of her only chance. “Get her! Don’t let her out!” “Grab her somebody! Grab her!” Her body was slippery from the misted sheen of fearful perspiration that her plight had brought to her flesh and she slid from their hands like a greased pig at a county fair, her dress flapping from her waist and her discarded shoes left behind on the collapsed stage, a casualty of the fall. She tumbled and dodged and ran sideways in a pell-mell dash for the outside . . . and what passed as safety in her frightened mind. A callused hand grabbed crushingly at her breast and a leering, drink-soaked pair of lips hotly kissed her there and yellowed teeth bit at her naked pink nipple, but she was too desperate to feel the pain. One last man stood between her and the door, an especially sodden farmhand of indeterminate years and he rushed at her clumsily, his arms wide, and managed to grab her from sheer luck as she darted to avoid a younger man who seemed the more immediate danger. The old man shoved his hand up between her thighs, hooting with laughter through the fleshy opening of his mouth, and his fingers, toughened with years of manual labor, tore her panties in half as easily as a sheet of finest tissue and she moaned as he crudely poked between her trembling labial lips. She struggled desperately, kicking at his coveralled shins and scratching at his face, but he seemed impervious, his mind numbed to anything but the warm moist softness of her pussy! “Aaawww! No, noooo!” she whimpered as his callus-hard middle finger stiffened like a man’s cock, suddenly poked between her cuntal lips and into the tight grip of her twat! Only the impatient lust of the other men saved her, for they grabbed her roughly away from the old man, anxious to be the first themselves, and a fight broke out that afforded her the precious last few seconds that she needed to escape. Before she could breathe again, she was outside in the cellar-black night, running blindly along a dirt rut toward the distant twinkle of the highway, miles across the piney Carolina coastal plain. There was no moon, but enough starlight to show her the roadway, and she ran until her heart pounded in her naked breast like a trip-hammer. She heard them behind her, then they returned for their cars and she glanced back over her bare shoulders to see the beams of headlights slicing the night like searchlight beacons as they bounced along the potholed dirt road, closing in on her. She knew that there was no hope unless she could get off the road, so she ran headlong into the pine forest, charging through the underbrush that bordered the road and into the relative clearness of the woods itself. On and on she ran, oblivious of time or distance, just step after painful step as the limbs tore at her young nakedness and the forest floor ripped at the soles of her bare feet. She remembered the snake hunts that her father had talked about in this part of the county, the nights they had gone out with flashlights and rifles after rattlesnakes and moccasins, and more than once she was certain that she heard the clicking sound of a rattler within striking distance. And every branch or fallen limb larger than a pencil beneath her bare soles seemed to move and coil, a slithering monster ready to sink its poison fangs in her naked flesh! When at last she reached the highway, she was barely able to stand, and her mind, as minds will in the shock of desperation could dwell on nothing but the morning’s papers . . . DIANE RAYNOR ESCAPES FROM GANG-RAPE! LOCAL GIRL FORCED TO STRIP AT BACKWOODS JUKE JOINT! And the cops with their snide remarks and off-color questioning, the neighbors who would always look at her questioningly and whisper behind her back of what really happened that night! She knew that she couldn’t face it, that this awful nightmare had to be her secret, to share with no one! This small town was not like the big city, where a girl could escape her past . . . she had to pretend that this never happened. She had to try and forget those awful people at Sal’s, the ones who had forced her into this wicked and despicable perversion . . . for they had won! She was defeated . . . there was no way for her to strike back! * * * |
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