A disenchanted, middle aged man finds bliss in the arms of a precocious fifteen-year old girl. During a weekend, he rapes, strangles and brutally murders the young girl, assaulting her in many delightful ways in the process
Baxter and Rosella's Glorious Weekend
A disenchanted, middle aged man finds bliss in the arms of a precocious fifteen-year old girl. During a weekend, he rapes, strangles and brutally murders the young girl, assaulting her in many delightful ways in the process.
Baxter Klein stared blankly at his iPhone.
"What?" The voice called out from behind him.
Startled, he turned and saw his wife, Tammy, standing at the door.
"Debbie hung up on me," he said, holding up the phone.
"Teenagers," Tammy said.
Tammy crossed the room and gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry, she's still daddy's little girl." Then, she said, "I'm just about packed. You want anything before I leave?"
"No. I'm good. Enjoy the spa. God knows you've earned it."
Tammy left the room and was soon busing herself getting the last of her things together for the big weekend with the girls. Baxter supposed women needed that sort of thing now and then. Isn't that what Debbie had echoed when she called home from college asking for more money?
"Dad, all the other girls get weekly facials." Debbie wailed dramatically into the phone. "And Jessie gets her hair blown out every week."
Why would someone pay to have their hair blow dried? It made him tired just thinking about it. Looking for a distraction, he booted up his computer and checked to see if there were any movies worth downloading. Nothing. He sighed. Baxter was a man who was easily bored and he still had the remainder of the evening ahead of him. What does a thirty-eight year old married guy do when he has a night to himself? And how pathetic was it that he had no clue?
Although he would admit this to no one, lately Baxter wondered if he might be on the verge of a midlife crisis. The thing was, Baxter had gotten Tammy pregnant when she was seventeen. By eighteen they were married, struggling, teenage parents. In another life, they'd be living in poverty, but thanks to luck, timing, and the sale of a website he developed in the nineties, they were living comfortably on high-tech ideas long since forgotten.
When Debbie was in high school, Baxter had been the hip-dad. Never much of a heartthrob in school himself, he came into his looks in his thirties. He hit the gym, filled out his clothes, kept his full head of sandy brown hair and attracted the attention of girls that wouldn't have given him a second glance in his youth.
Tammy thought it was amusing and, secretly, she was flattered to be married to the best looking man on the block. Although she was also studious in school, she had been pretty and her friends were surprised when she ended up with the class nerd. Later, after her geek turned millionaire, their tune changed. The thought made her smile every time she saw their envious faces across the soccer field at Debbie's games.
Today, Baxter was a bored man. A six-foot-one, handsome, well off, fellow with a boyish grin and pleasant personality, who, if asked how he was doing would say "fine" but would really be thinking, "something is missing." He just wasn't sure what.
As he thought about what to do with his evening, he allowed his mind to wander. He thought about his friend Kevin, who would want to watch a movie about war or sports. Pass. Then, there were Rick and Suzie, said as one, rickensuzie, because that is what they had become. Hang with Rick, and you must also hang with chain smoking, swearing, semi-sober Suzie. Pass. Thoughts of Suzie, with her tasteless wife beaters and too tight jeans, led him back to his wife and their sex life. He loved Tammy, but their lovemaking was vanilla. Always had been. He supposed anyone who had their wedding staring down the barrel of a shotgun would have the same complaint, for how was one to know what one needed or expected from a sexual partner at seventeen? He wasn't even sure he knew now. This was something he carried heavy ?Tammy was the only woman he ever slept with.
As if angered by this reality, he raised himself from his chair with a start knocking it backward. He set the furniture right and decided he needed to get out of the house for a while. But where to go? He certainty was not going to go to a bar with a bunch of twenty year olds and look like an idiot.
That left staying at home or going to the bookstore. Neither option thrilled him. He glanced toward the kitchen and thought about making himself an espresso. At that, he remembered a new café that had opened up in San Jose. It was a little place off First Street that served cappuccino by day and Irish coffee by night. Baxter wasn't a drinker, however her knew the addition of sprits was likely to draw an older crowd whilst the absence of beer would repel the twenty-something's. Sounded perfect.
Part one - Delicious Morsels Were on Offer
The café was a bit more crowded than expected, but he lucked out and, just as he was entering, a couple was leaving, providing him with a table in the corner right next to the window. The place was small but not cramped and had an Italian flair that was not over done. After ordering a cappuccino and cannoli at the counter, he settled back into his table and began typing some code into his computer. It was a good idea to get out, he decided. No distractions. Just a quiet setting and, in a few moments, refreshments. What more could a man ask for?
He heard a clearing of the throat, followed by a timid, "Excuse me?"
Without looking up from his quick typing, Baxter Klein said, "Thanks. You can just put it there. I'd also like an ice water, please."
No movement. "Um. Sir?"
He looked up. In front of him was a young woman, dressed like in the upscale casual garb of a Bay Area student. She appeared to be just under eighteen. Definitely not working here. Her arms were full of textbooks. He looked at her, trying to place where he had seen her before, and came up blank.
He asked, "Are you a friend of Debbie's?" She seemed a bit young for Debbie, but you never knew with kids these days.
"My daughter." When she gave him a blank expression, he said, "Can I help you with something?"
"Um, all the tables are taken? I was hoping I could sit here with you?"
Oh for pity's sake. Where were manners today? Not to mention a healthy sense of boundaries.
"Fine." He motioned for her to sit down and then made a show of working so she wouldn't be tempted to talk to him. Only after she settled in and put her books all over the place did the waiter finally bring his cappuccino and pastry, which now barely fit on the table.
She got up, ordered her coffee and a cherry Danish the size of a Frisbee, came back, and introduced herself. He supposed she thought that was necessary. It wasn't. He looked up. She was smiling. And drop dead gorgeous. Why was he being such an ass? Here he finally goes out and the first person who talks to him, a perfectly nice young lady, and he's an ass. He really needed to get out more.
She told him her name was Rosella Garcia and she was fifteen. That surprised him, as he had pegged her at seventeen, if not eighteen. She was in her first year of high school. He introduced himself as Baxter Klein, worked in high-tech, lives in Saratoga. She said that was nice and twirled a piece of curly caramel colored hair around her index finger.
"You have a daughter?" She asked.
"Yes. I thought maybe you were one of her friends. Her name's Debbie and she's a freshman at Wellesley."
"Where?" More hair twirling.
"Oh." Rosella squinted almond shaped, aloe colored eyes as if inspecting him and said, "You don't look old enough to have a kid who's in college."
Baxter laughed. "I get that a lot."
"People tell me I look older." She said, throwing back her shoulders slightly and holding up her chin. Baxter considered this for a moment, taking in the dimples, the figure. Rosella looked enough for Playboy, young enough that he was embarrassed to have considered the naughty qualification. The young girl's olive-colored face still carried the smallest trace of post pubescent baby fat and her high-pitched girlish voice betrayed her true age despite her efforts to appear grown-up.
To compliment her, because he thought it was what she wanted to hear, he said, "I can see that. You seem mature."
She giggled. He shook his head. Teenagers.
Rosella asked him what he was working on and he explained it, at first giving a basic version and then, after it was apparent that she knew far more about web programming than he imagined, a detailed version. He was surprised to find that, although she might not have looked it, the girl was advanced for her years. He felt a little regret at having been so rude and was happy that he had not blown this chance to have a conversation with someone other than his sports-trivia-obsessed friends for once.
They both heard a noise and looked out of the window to see that it had started to rain. Heavily. The girl marveled at the storm and wondered about how many accidents there would be on the roads tonight. Baxter laughed at this and told her about his visits to customers in Chicago. There they wouldn't even close the schools for a foot of snow, let alone rain. He couldn't imagine they'd blink at this.
"Not here," Rosella laughed, "We can't handle it. Remember that storm in November? The cop exiting 880 near Milpitas?" Rosella leaned back in her chair and took a massive bite of her pastry, the cherry jelly outlining her plump lips. "It was raining and he totally over shot the exit on McCarthy Blvd. Ran his car right off the bridge and over the other side. It was a mess!"
Twenty minutes later it was still raining and the café was closing up. Baxter was surprised to find that he had been there all night and even more surprised to note that he had a good time.
"Where are you parked?" He asked.
She laughed. "Fifteen, remember? I don't drive. I'm supposed to be sleeping over at a friend's house on Bird Avenue. We got into a fight, which is why I was at the cafe to begin with. I guess I'll call her and can see if she'll come and get me." Rosella began digging through a cavernous rainbow colored bag garishly decorated with little Ls, Vs, and happy-faced flowers. "Oh shit. Forgot my cell..."
"I can ride you over there," Baxter said, surprised at his friendliness.
Rosella looked him over, taking in his threads and demeanor. He had a teenage daughter and he was probably rich too. Wearing Tods loafers. Rosella's dad got a pair last Christmas and they were five hundred dollars. And these looked like they were the guy's casual shoes. Yeah, he's tame. Her parents would have her head if they knew she was even considering taking a ride, but it wasn't like she was hooking up with a drunken frat boy. This guy looked like her parents' friends, and she took rides from her parents' friends all the time.
"Sure," Rosella said, "That would be cool."
They walked across rain soaked street and Baxter hit a button on his key chain to deactivate his car alarm. BMW seven series. Score, Rosella thought. He is rich. She regarded him with fresh perspective and wondered how old he really was. He said his daughter was a college freshman, but she didn't see how he could be even close to forty. Her father was forty-five and Baxter looked a good ten years younger. And, he was hot. Reminded her of the guy who played Bat Man in the movie that had just came out. Not Heath, the other guy...Christian Bale, that's it. Only Baxter's hair was longer and his presence pleasingly approachable. Softer than any celebrity's. But with a hard body. Much finer than that idiot Antoine, who was dreaming if he thought he was going to get in her pants.
"You want to listen to music?" Baxter asked her.
"What have you got?" She asked him.
He smiled, "Everything."
Baxter drove down First Street toward Bird Avenue. Rosella was stretched out on the beige leather. For the first time that evening, he noticed that she was wearing a short skirt. Juicy Couture. Debbie had the same one. On Rosella, the fitted, charcoal mini fell to mid-thigh and exposed bare, sun-kissed, legs. She had paired it with a fitted, hot pink, Ed Hardy t-shirt emblazoned with a rhinestone studded, smiling skull. He wondered if everyone in her age group collaborated on their shopping excursions. She crossed her legs causing the skirt to ride up higher. He put his eyes back on the road. Rosella placed a hand on his leg. He didn't move it away. Silently, he hoped that she didn't notice the subtle stirring beneath his trousers.
Although he had driven at a deliberately slow pace, in a couple minutes they were at the Bird Avenue stop light. He turned left and now the two strangers had a quick decision to make. Straight ahead and to the right was the on ramp to 280 North ?the way home for Baxter. To the left, side streets snaking down seedy streets tucked away behind San Jose's business district. Her friend's neighborhood.
Baxter turned to Rosella and asked, "Which way?"
She looked back at him, smiled and said, "Forward."
He hit the gas.
The steering wheel was wet under his hands. He tried not to show it. This was nuts. He was in his car with a teenage girl. He imagined he was bringing her home. His mind told him absurd lies that in no time she would give him directions to her place. That the obviously young girl clad in designer clothes, carrying a thousand dollar bag and resentment toward her friend, didn't live in her friend's ghetto neighborhood. And, fifteen-year-old girls didn't go home with thirty-eight year old men. No, any minute now, the brat would tell him to get off the exit to Saratoga, but it would be another street, another large house, her house, that would be their destination. These were the lies that he told himself all the way home.
Sooner than he could have expected, they were in the home he shared with his wife and daughter. Baxter excused himself for a moment, ostensibly to let the dog out, but in reality to give himself a moment to collect his thoughts. When he came back Rosella complimented him on the house. He said nothing. What was he supposed to say?
Finally, he asked, "What can I get you to drink?"
"How about coffee and Bailey's?" Rosella said, trying to sound sophisticated.
"Sorry, no liquor in the house."
Rosella leaned back against the black granite counter top and pushed out her chest, just a bit, "Come on, it's just us." She moved toward him. "Who cares?"
Baxter didn't move away. He said, "I'm not your father, Rosella, and I don't care if you drink alcohol. I just don't have any. I don't drink."
She stopped cold as if he had just said, I don't eat. "Really?" She said. And then, cautiously, "Twelve stepper?"
That evoked a hearty laugh from Baxter Klein, and he stepped closer still. Now there was only one foot between them. Twelve inches. "No. I just don't drink. It's a preference. Not everyone drinks. And no, I'm not an addict."
Baxter looked into directly into her eyes in a way that could not be misinterpreted. She didn't flinch and she returned his gaze. She was bold. He liked that. There was an unmistakable charge in the room and he felt himself getting aroused. This is going to end badly, he thought to himself. A millisecond later he thought, who cares? Rosella lifted herself up on tiptoes and kissed him. Hard. Baxter didn't move away.
Rosella's kiss was delicious and sweet, her lips continuing to meet with his. He placed a hand behind her head and gently pulled her in even closer. When her hands moved around his back to hold him, he exhaled completely, as if relieved. His hands were buried in her ringlet hair pulling her youthful lips to his. She was exquisite.
In concert, their breathing grew heavy, their movements urgent, and as if choreographed, she slipped easily into his arms when he positioned himself to lift her onto the counter. She was so light, probably not even fully grown yet. For a moment, he remembered how young she was and he felt a wave of panic, but it was replaced swiftly with pleasure as the delightful minx threw her head back and giggled playfully. Delicate, manicured hands were at his sides and her legs snaked around him. Nothing he had experienced could compare to the rush of sensation cascading onto him ?all from this wonderful girl. Her legs were parted, allowing him to move in close as he leaned in and continued making out with her like a school boy. Looking down for a moment, he noticed that with her luscious legs spread, her short skirt rode up nearly to her pussy, making the garment useless, but somehow even more sexy than if she were naked. God, she was hot. And baby-sweet. He caught a glimpse of her ivory lace panties and the way they contrasted against her light-mocha skin made him ache.
Gently, without taking a breath from their frantic tongue explorations, he allowed his hands to wander down to her legs and spread them just a little wider, feeling himself strain against his jeans as he did it. She was bewitching and he was helpless, incapable of moving away from her. His breathing heavy he said simply, "Rosella." as he continued to explore the delicious region of her upper thighs. She moaned with pleasure as he gently massaged her rounded hips, slowly moving his hands upward. He didn't dare move his hands inward. How far could he go with this girl? For a moment, he opened his eyes. His head was positioned so that he could see her cleavage straining against the fitted t-shirt. Such wonderful breasts, still so young, still blooming. God, how he longed to take her youthful nipples into his mouth. Could he dare?
She's younger than my daughter, he thought to himself. What am I doing? As if sensing his hesitation, Rosella, moaned softly and nibbled at his earlobe. Then, lifting his face again to hers she kissed him fully, her tongue deep in his mouth, showing off its talent. He moved a hand toward her left breast and hovered beside it, silently asking for permission. Rosella sighed with hot breath, giving it. Even through the cotton T, her breast was magnificent. Precious fifteen year old nipples pointed due north, and he could feel the firm sweetness of her developing b-cup. His hand moved to the bottom of her shirt and up the back. He was against bare skin now. Feeling the small of her back. Soft, untouched skin. He wondered if she had been with other men. Other boys.
"I can't believe I'm here," she said when they took a breath at last.
"Do you regret it?" Baxter was standing in front of her, Rosella's adolescent legs still dangling off the counter top on either side of him. Her arms behind her for balance.
A playful smile creped across her lips. "No. I like it here."
Baxter said, "I like you." And he leaned in to kiss her neck before slowly moving down to her collarbone. "You're so beautiful." His hands moved over her body as she allowed him navigate her curves freely. His breathing was heavy and he wondered how long he could stand this. In one moment he wanted to move forward, in another he was scared to death. In a compromise with his soul, his left hand reached down to her panties tentatively moving them an inch to the side. To his eternal surprise, she didn't protest. He didn't dare look her in the eye. God. Her pussy lips were wet! He was feeling this fifteen year old's moist pussy. He could barely comprehend it. Just the thought was nearly enough to make him feel like he was going to explode. His finger moved slowly around her opening. She was tiny. Smaller than he imagined. Silently, he mapped the outlines of her cunt, trying to imagine how tiny her pinkish prize must be. Wondering how he would even fit into this treasure. When he moved to her little rosebud, she gasped and moved her legs together a bit. He looked at her questioningly.
She said, "I've never let a boy touch down there."
This shocked and excited Baxter. He had been his wife's first, but she was already sixteen when they met and seventeen when they first went this far with each other. He had never experienced the wonders of a fifteen-year-old girl. In truth, he had never allowed himself to consider the possibility.
"I'll be gentle," He said, because he wasn't sure what else to say. She nodded and opened for him. His finger delved into her slit finding her hole once again, this time moving a bit inside. Again she gasped, but allowed him entry. He pushed in a little further.
She said nothing, but she spread her legs a little wider and she kissed him hard on the mouth. It was as if she wanted to fully embrace the feeling and block out everything but their moment of shared passion. That was fine with Baxter and he allowed himself to fall into her and he worked his finger into the tightest cunt he could have dreamed up. She was clamping down on him and it felt wonderful. She closed her eyes and leaned back, still sitting up on the counter but giving license to his hand to move freely in and out of her. Each time, he went in a little further as she got wetter and wetter, lubricating him nicely. God, this girl is a natural, he thought. Only fifteen and she's letting me finger fuck her on my kitchen table!
He realized at that moment that he loved playing with her. With new appreciation, he regarded the girl. Perfect, flawless skin. Lips to die for. Ringlet hair that spilled down over her shoulders to a blossoming chest. Willing legs spread akimbo allowing him free entry to her virgin cunt. And what a cunt it was! He could see it now, as he moved in and out. So modest, yet holding his finger like a vice. A blush-pink budding flower for his taking. Her eyes slowly opened as he stood back from her and she began to speak. But, he didn't want this wonderful moment to end so, with consideration, he motioned for her to stay silent. Sitting upright, she watched him intently as he continued his fingering without taking his eyes off hers. It was so sexy, moving in and out of her snug little snatch all while staring into her wondrous eyes, a silent conversation happening between them. How far would she let him go? He pulled out and added another finger, moving slow as he entered. She grimaced, registering pain, but said nothing. God, that was so sexy. She was taking him in. Just sitting there, letting him move his fingers slowly in and out, a little further each time. As he moved further in, she'd wince, but not stop him. She must be hurting, at least a bit, he thought to himself and wondered if he should stop. She looked at him pleadingly, so he gave her just a couple more finger thrusts before taking his wet fingers out of her opened hole. "Thank you," he whispered. "That was wonderful." He stroked her hair and held her to him. She didn't resist. "Let's go into the next room and get a little more comfortable." Rosella smiled.
Effortlessly, he picked up the girl, who couldn't have weighed more than a hundred and ten pounds and brought her into the family room. At first he had considered bringing her to the bedroom, but figured that might freak her out. Better to take things slow. Just off of the kitchen, the family room was small but comfortable and the room used most often when entertaining company. Like the kitchen, it had a large bay window that looked out on to the front lawn. Inside the bay area was a sofa that ran the length of the room. Baxter's wife had had it custom made and it was the most comfortable sofa in the house, even though, to look at it, one would think it was nothing more than a bench built into a window. Across from the sofa-bench were long tables and across from them a plasma television and bookcases, which were built into the wall. Still clothed, Rosella laid back on the sofa-bench and looked up at Baxter.
Slowly and deliberately, he lifted her shirt over her arms, exposing a lacy bra that matched her panties. He removed it. God, she was lovely. He kissed her neck and moved down to her pink nipples, which were erect, perfect circles. He breathed in and sighed in appreciation. Slowly he licked the first one, taking his time. He removed his own shirt and then went for his pants, which had become unbearable. His relief at freeing his swollen cock was palpable. Rosella's eyes grew wide and he wondered if his was the first penis she had seen.
As he approached, she shifted herself up slightly moving just out of his reach. This made him chuckle a bit and he remembered the couch acrobatics of his youth. But he was too old for these games tonight. His hand on her shoulder grew firm, not hurting her, but no longer allowing her to wiggle away. His other hand moved and, at last, his cock grazed the soft hairs of her cunt. He kissed her and she said, "Baxter, I can't"
That made him open his eyes a little wider and he asked, "Why not?"
Rosella said, "I've never gone this far with a boy."
"Oh," Baxter smiled, feeling relieved, "Is that all?" His cock burrowed into the curly hairs. Excited by knowing that he was the first man to fuck the young girl. God, how tight she must be.
"No, I mean it." Rosella said, with more urgency in her voice.
Baxter didn't know what it was, but something in her voice. The way it quivered. The subtle transformation from promiscuous teen to frightened girl, perhaps. He wasn't sure. But something, in that moment, made her even more alluring, and he knew at that moment that he had to have her. Even though she was holding out, he knew this little Lolita must be a slut at heart. After all, she did go home with a total stranger. And one twice her age at that.
He leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I need you."
He moved down and began kissing her nipples again finding them even sweeter than they had been earlier in the evening. She moaned with pleasure as his cock ached for her.
"I shouldn't." She whispered.
"Shhhh," he said, knowing she would regret this, but allowing his desire to be first considered. Using his hand, he reminded her how good it felt to have his finger inside her. Rosella was kissing him now and he accepted those kisses gratefully as his fingers danced on the outside of her virgin clit. No man or boy had touched this beauty. She was trembling. He rubbed her gently, knowing she would be sensitive. Not like women his age, who had been touched for years, and used to receiving pleasure. To Rosella, her body was still uncharted territory even to her. Still, as he moved his finger lightly along the side of her small, firm, clit, she instinctively moved against him. Again, he was pleased to find that she was moist and so tiny. And an obvious virgin. She was telling the truth, he knew. How had he gotten so lucky? As he worked her over once again with his fingers, he knew he would not last long once he got inside of her. In and out, in and out, he probed the young girl whilst sucking on her stunning nipples. He told her to relax. She did and found that she was able to move into him. Slowly, she got into it and before long she was sliding onto him in a nice rhythm.
"That's it, Rosella."
With his thumb, he lightly massaged the hood of her clit, giving her enough pressure to get her off, but not more than the teen old could handle. She arched her back a bit, fully getting into it now, loving the sensations of being fingered and having her nipples sucked. Only fifteen. And her first time. But she was a natural. Her still growing, unblemished body moved perfectly giving him a lovely preview of what he could expect from her later. She put a sweaty hand up against the window and another gripped the cushion as she began to have her first orgasm.
"Oh God.. This feels so... oooooo....."
Faster he massaged the young girl's pussy lips up to her clit and watched with wonder as the lovely cunt wetly took his finger. Soon it would accept his dick.
"That's it. Come for me baby..."
"ooooooo yeeessssss." He felt her whole body shake in orgasm and he leaned into kiss her.
"God, that was so sexy," he said.
She looked up at him dreamily. Lost in pleasure. He knew this was his moment. Now, while she was still in afterglow. While her eyes were barely open, and before she could say anything, he was pushing up against her still lubricated, virgin cunt.
"No," she started to protest, but he was too quick and already moving. Before he lost his nerve, Baxter put one hand on his cock and the other on the girl and navigated his way through the small slit to her prize. Damn, she was small. He had to be more forceful than he planned and he found himself pressing hard into her just go get the head in.
"Oww... That hurts. Stop." Her hands were pushing up against him, trying to fight him off.
"Oh, God. Rosella. I'm already inside!" She felt wonderful! "Fuck, oh fuck."
Straining against the adolescent hands that were fighting him, Baxter pushed down on the sofa. It was challenging to get his cock inside of her, but each thrust was pure ecstasy. He grunted as he pushed his way in deeper forcing her to take more of him. Erect he was eight inches, which had always been pleasing to his wife, but he knew he would be painful to this young girl. My god, he thought, I am raping this kid. And, suddenly, he was even harder, if that was possible.
He looked at her and saw that she was crying, "Please stop." But she was also loosening up, her virgin cunt opening around him.
"Fuck me, baby."
The girl was so hot, her skirt still on and hiked up to her waist, the lace panties pushed to the side adding friction against his dick. She was crying and he knew his response should be empathy, but she looked like a porn star and the overall effect just made him want to fuck her harder. So he did.
She dug her nails into his back and a jolt ran through him. Now he was pounding on her. Letting it all out. Enjoying her. Slamming into her. Letting her take all of him up to the balls. Rosella Garcia was moaning.
"That's it baby," he said, "Fuck me."
"Oh shit." She said.
"You like it?"
He moved into her hard, amazed and impressed at her ability to take his eight inch cock so willingly into her little snatch on its first time. Her ass was firm and she was so light she was practically bouncing off of the cushion gingerly as he assailed her.
Baxter flung her flexible legs up over his shoulder allowing him to pierce deeper into the girl. His body made an arch and drove against her girlish hips. It felt so good inside of her. Knowing he was smashing up against her small curled up body. It made his blood flow faster.
He asked "Does it hurt?"
And he knew this was true. There were still some tears forming at the corners of her almond shaped eyes. Her perfect eyebrows furrowed together, giving evidence to her physical suffering.
"But it's good?"
She didn't answer. He kept going. Harder. Almost violently. He voiced the fantasy he had kept pent up for so long, "I want to fucking hurt you good. Oh, God, Rosella," still pounding on the young girl with his forty year old muscular body, "Let me go just a little longer, OK?"
To his surprise she squeaked in anguished whisper, "Okay..."
He couldn't believe that she willing to take him even as he forced himself upon her. Her sweet baby face registering the agony and accepting him fully. Continuously he crashed into her, wanting to go deeper, falling into her eyes. Loving the consensual suffering.
"I'm going to fucking come in you now."
"Oh God..." the young girl said.
And that's all it took.
"Yeeeaaahhhhhh.. Fuck, I'm coming?.. Aaahhh.." Baxter shot the biggest hot load he could remember directly into the teen's cunt filling her up. He wondered briefly if she was on birth control and guessed that as a young teenage virgin she likely wasn't, but still he couldn't stop. It felt wonderful. He was spasming, his cum shooting directly inside. He decided to pump her full and kept going, giving her everything he could. His dick growing super sensitive as it became covered in its own juices. At last, he pulled out slowly. He looked down and saw his cum starting to leak out of her tiny opening. She was lying back with her eyes closed and he could still see outlines of where tears fell down her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell in slow, exhausted motion. Her legs were still bent at the knees and slightly spread apart. When he put his finger inside her to feel his cum she didn't flinch. She felt warm and beautiful.
"I want to fuck you all weekend." He said, knowing it was an outrageous request considering he had just raped the shit out of this kid. And yet, she said, "Sure."
Part Two - Through Windows We Wandered
Completely spent, they lay together on the cushions in spoon formation, too lazy and tired to move. Baxter put his arm over Rosella's shoulder and lightly cupped her breast before falling into a deep sleep. Just before drifting off, he thought to himself how alive he felt. How thrilling it was to have this young woman in his arms. How he had been dead for the last two decades of his life and he didn't even know it.
Sometime around three AM Rosella stirred and Baxter felt her move against him. She was sleeping soundly and Baxter was amazed to find that he was already aroused. He and his wife had recently fallen into a pattern of weekend sex where he was lucky to get off once or twice a week. Now, here he was having just blown his load into this innocent, young, girl and a mere few hours later and was rock hard again. He lightly caressed her breasts before moving his hand down between her legs. He loved having her in his house and he was determined to fuck her as many times as he could before she went home. The idea of it was driving him crazy and he wondered how many times he would have her before she would go away, back to wherever it is she would go away to. Damn, she was lovely. Younger than his own daughter by two full years. A virgin until this evening.
Rosella was moving against his hand now and moaning just a bit. She was starting to wake up and moved to face him. Instead of allowing her to, Baxter moved his lips to her ear and whispered, "Shh... Don't talk. Just let me take you, please. I need to fuck you." Rosella nodded in acceptance. He could not remember ever being this hard for any other woman, but of course, Rosella wasn't even a woman yet. Baxter used his spit to lubricate his dick and tried to take her from behind. The girl was inexperienced, however, and not sure how to move. The attempts were awkward and he needed to move her around. Finally, he got up on his knees and raised her up to do likewise. Obediently she followed his lead and he pressed her to the window so she was facing away from him. Now, her hands were pressed palm to glass. Her uplifted, perky breasts flat against the pane. Her face kissing the window. Rosella, a splendid fifteen-year-old recently deflowered virgin naked except for a useless miniskirt hiked awkwardly on her hip, was on full display. He was right behind her, ready to enter. And he did. This time, he was able to enter easily.
"Oh, Rosella, this is so hot," Baxter said, fucking the girl against the glass.
Realizing for the first time that they were looking out over the front yard, Rosella began to panic. "Baxter, we can't. Anyone could see."
"Shh... Oh God, you feel good." Baxter was moving in and out of her his hands up on the window on either side of her pushing them both forward.
She made a move to cover herself but Baxter shoved her, hard, back against the window.
He was moving in upward thrusts, each one moving them into the cold glass. The window felt great against his hand and he was in heaven feeling her against him knowing at any moment anyone could see them. In truth, hardly anyone ever drove down his sleepy drive and he doubted anyone would be by that night, but the idea that they might thrilled him. He hadn't planned it, but now that they were there, he had to keep fucking her against the pane. It just looked so hot. Her lithe body pressed flat into the clear glass. Him behind her. Fucking this child. For the world to see.
"Please, Baxter, let's just go to your room."
He moved her skirt up so that it was mid torso and now she was completely exposed. He liked seeing her like that. She was sobbing heartily now and he could feel her convulsions on his dick. "Just like that, baby." he said.
He was fucking her intensely now, and loving the feel of her against the window. As their fucking grew more urgent, Rosella was propelled into the window with more and more force, bouncing against it as she had bounced against the sofa hours earlier. Rosella said, "We're going to break the window." And Baxter said, "It's shatterproof. Installed last year. Won't break. As if to illustrate his point, he took her hair in one hand and, not using too much force, he threw her head into the pane.
Thwack! Her head hit the glass harder than he intended.
"What the fuck?!" she cried.
But instead of feeling regret, he was exhilarated. He did it again, Thwack! The moment her head made contact, he felt his cock spasm as if he was going to come, and it took great effort to hold back. He had never felt anything like this! It was intoxicating! He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out like this. Rosella's head was in his hands and he had her firm against the window while he was pumping his rock-hard shaft into her with as much force as he could muster. With each thrust, her knees lifted off the bench.
"You're hurting me!"
He knew this was true, but it felt so good. And, after a few more lunges into her he had to do it again. This time he caught a better angle and her head made contact with enough velocity that Baxter wondered if he might break the glass after all. The thought excited him.
"Stop it!" she cried, and a car drove by. Baxter was not sympathetic to her pleas. To the contrary. The potential witness to their copulation had inspired him and he increased the ferocity of their lovemaking. Now, he crashed into her enjoying the dull noise made by her head mixed with her cries as she made contact against the solid surface. Pain shot through her and she felt herself on the verge of passing out. Thwack! He had it right now, and he was able to get deep into her pussy at the same moment her forehead slammed into the window with crashing impact. Rosella's body was growing lax and as she weakened, he found it even easier to slam her into the window at will. It was wonderful. He wondered if he could really break the window if he pushed her hard enough. Now, he wanted to try, so he told her through grunted jabs, "I. Want. You. To. Smash. It." She moaned out a sobbing protest and tried to raise her hands but she was growing disoriented from having her head repeatedly slammed against the window.
Suddenly, he saw lights coming up the road. A car was driving up slowly. Baxter surprised himself by continuing his assault and saying, "I want them to see me fuck you silly."
As the car came toward the house it slowed to a stop and then pulled to the curb. He continued fucking her brutally, overcome with excitement.
"Help!" Rosella cried out.
Baxter whacked her head against the window again and again until she felt herself begin to pass out. As he increased the speed and intensity of the jabs he felt his orgasm begin to swell inside of him. "Oh fuck, I'm going to come!"
She was nearly unconscious and he longed to throw her through the fucking glass. He didn't know why. Even on the edge of passing out, Rosella was moaning, and he was riding her hard right up until he could fill her right hole with his seed again. Over and over he pounded half hoping that the strangers were enjoying the spectacle of his rape of the suffering adolescent. Why not? I'm probably going to jail any way, he thought. Suddenly, a car door opened and the sensation of seeing someone get out overcame him. As hard as he could he grabbed Rosella by the hair with one hand and by the waist with the other. "Please let her go through the fucking thing," he said. Over and over he slammed her head into the window while slamming his hard cock into her pussy. He could see a crack forming in the window, and he felt himself begin to come. Blood oozing into the window-cracks even as his cum was flowing into the girl.
"Oh fuck yeah," he said hitting her as hard as he could into the center of the crack hoping to push her through. Aiming toward the center, his efforts were rewarded, and he saw her head go through just a little as his dick emptied into her aching pussy. "Yeeaaaaah.... Oh, yahhhhh!!!!" God, this was hot. He didn't want it to end. More and more he slammed her into the window, riding his orgasm, letting it come. "Oh yeaaaa....Fuck me Rosella!" But she wasn't answering back. Rosella was alive but not moving as blood moved down her head and on to his hands. It felt magnificent. Finally, as she broke the window, he released the last drops of his cum into her. "Yeaaaaaaa..... oh yeaaaaa." All of his cum shot into her until he was bled dry.
Breathing deeply he looked up and saw the car outside but the people were gone. They hadn't seen him at all, but had gone to a neighbor's house. He felt a huge wave of relief when he realized that he had not been caught or seen after all.
Then he looked down at the girl, who was completely unconscious. She was breathing but bleeding. Some glass had embedded itself in her head and blood was flowing freely into her face and on to him now. He knew he had crossed a line, but couldn't think about it right then. Instead, he carried her upstairs to his room and tied her to the bed. That way, he could clean up the mess in the family room without her escaping. After he had a chance to do that, he would go back to her and figure his way out of the rest of this. Clearly, he had gotten carried away. In the morning, things would be clearer. One thing he knew for sure. He was not going to get charged with rape. Sure the sex was rough, but she had come to his house by her own freewill. Even as he cleaned her blood off of the window and the couch, his mind wandered back to her tight snatch. Right now, up in his bedroom, there was a fifteen year old tied to the bed with his cum leaking out of her cunt. He wondered what he was going to do with her next.
Part 3 - In Morning, We Said Good Bye
By now, it was very late. Or early, as the case may be. Baxter's bedroom was bathed in predawn sunlight giving it a soft orange hue. The girl lay sleeping on the bed, her hands tied by Tammy's scarves to carved Oak bedposts. It was a hasty job, but it would have to do. In this light, she looked angelic, even as she lay bleeding and exposed. He had removed the remains of her clothing and did his best to clean up her wounds, however she had bled during her few hours of sleep and now Scarlett rivers flowed from her temples to the nape of her neck.
Baxter Klein began stroking himself as he watched her and knew he would possess her once again. She was his to use and he was enjoying every bit of her. He leaned in to wake her up and, as he expected, she tried to move against her restraints.
"You're tied up, Rosella." Gazing down at her heavenly body, he added, "I'm going to fuck you again. If you can let me do it without fighting me, afterward we will have some breakfast and then you can go home."
"You're fucking sick." Rosella said, with newfound conviction. "I want to go home!" Without warning he slapped her. Hard. Shocking her into stunned silence. She began to sob.
"It can be pleasant for you." He said.
She continued crying and pleaded with him to let her go. He answered by slapping her again. How satisfying it felt...laying palm against the young girl's radiant cheek. How sensational to see the bitter sting register in her eyes. The redness rising, following his touch.
"I'm going to untie your hands for a moment. If you try anything, I will hurt you. Bad. Tell me you understand so I don't have to hit you again."
Sobbing, she said, "I understand."
Quickly, Baxter freed her from the bed long enough to put her hands behind her back and secure them together using some rope he had kept in the garage. He secured her wrists tight, aroused by the anguished look she gave him as he pulled her arms taut. After securing the girl, he flipped her on her stomach so he could enter her from behind. He loved seeing her this way. Her body shaking with fear and anticipation. He took a moment to appreciate her. In sunlight, her body was just as amazing as it had been the night before. She was shivering now, from the cold morning and anticipation. Wondering what he was going to do with her. Her fright was sexy and he was stirred at the feel of her trembling as he ran his and over her. Her tears were mixing with her blood now and he rubbed them together, "My, you're stunning." he said.
Leaning over her, he grabbed a couple large pillows and put them under her stomach.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Just making things easier," he said. "Stay still."
She did. He was getting off on her obeying his commands. He still had no idea why she compliant, and he figured he probably would never learn the reason. That's ok, he figured. He didn't need to know. He would simply enjoy. Using both hands, he spread her legs apart so that she was in doggy position in front of him, propped on the pillows, ass in the air, hands behind her back, face forward.
"Perfect." he said.
Sliding his hand over the sexy small of her back he grabbed her curly hair like a horse's mane and used it to hold his balance and pull her head back toward him giving her body a nice arch. She moved to accommodate him and he held her there by the hair until she could no longer hold her self up. Now, hanging by her hair in his hand she was hurting and lovely. From this angle, he could just barely see her tears as she began to weep.
"Just like that," He said, enjoying her discomfort. With his free hand, he felt her breast and pinched a nipple making it hard. He knew her arms behind her back were giving her extra weight, making the position more agonizing, but she looked so lovely hanging there. He had to enjoy it a moment longer before lowering her back on the pillows. When, at last she was laying forward, he placed first one and then two fingers into her pussy. Even after fucking her all night he was astounded at how tight the young thing was. He slid his fingers in and out, in and out, in an effort to get her wet. When it seemed like she was too scared to become aroused, he spit on his cock guided the head inside her, and, grabbing on to her hair with both hands to steady himself, he forced his cock into her as hard as he could, up to his balls.
"Ow!" She cried, as her neck tried to snap backward.
"You're so tight, Baby. I love screwing you."
"This fucking hurts."
"I know, baby."
Baxter was fucking her good now but this was his third time with her and he longed to know more of her. He let go of her hair and her head fell forward. He stood there for a moment looking at himself buried inside of the teen cunt. She looked so sexy around him that he hated to pull out even for a moment, but he did. Baxter spread her ass cheeks with his fingers and looked at his next destination. It was smooth and untouched. A perfect star-shaped hole ready to fuck. He ran his fingers over her asshole and began rubbing against it.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to hurt you a little more, baby."
"No. Please. Don't."
He rubbed her ass; it was a splendid, round, teenage rear without an ounce of extra body fat. The girl was ideal. He spread her apple cheeks and put his hard dick up against her hole. He could tell that getting it in was going to take work. "I don't know how I'm going to get in it there." He said to her.
He pushed against her, still rock hard, but her sphincter was so tiny he couldn't even get the head in. "Damn. this is really going to hurt you, Rosella."
"Nooo," she pleaded. her tears were flowing liberally now, splashing onto the bed. Ignoring her begging, he put his finger just a tiny way into her ass. "Ow! Ow! Stop!"
Moving his index finger in and out he said, "This is just my finger. You're so small it almost hurts my finger to be inside you. How does this feel to you?'
"Oh shit, that's hot. I'm going to push it in deeper now."
He pushed his finger slowly so it was halfway inside. She was sobbing and he could feel her heaving as he was inside. He asked her to describe how she was feeling and she said it felt like she had to go to the bathroom. He knew that was what she was going to say. "Am I going to shit on you?" she wanted to know. He laughed and told her she wasn't. Now, she was accepting his finger and he was able to move it easily in and out as long as he stopped half way. He couldn't believe it. As much as he abused this girl, she was still taking all of it. Even now, as she was bleeding on the bed. Even as he told her how much he wanted to torture her.
He said, "Rosella, I'm going to push in more." She said, "Will I be in pain?" He answered honestly, "Probably a little." And she said, "Ok." It was very hard not to stroke himself to orgasm as she accepted his abuse.
Her canal was narrow and unexplored. His finger ached with the pressure on it, but he was able to get it in all the way to the knuckle. He groaned with pleasure as he finger fucked her ass with deep penetration.
"Does it hurt?"
She lay on the pillows, legs and ass spread. Arms tied but not fighting. Accepting his violation of her, once again. Oh, how he loved watching her like this. Such a small girl. She didn't even know him twenty-four hours ago and here she was. He had fucked her. And now he was exploring her ass, watching her naked body, talking to her about how he longed to experience the exquisite sight of her taking as much of him as he could possibly offer up to her in such a short amount of time.
"I'm going to add another finger," he said.
"No. It won't fit!"
"Let's try." Baxter said.
With a deep breath of anticipation, Baxter pulled his index finger out of her and put lotion on both his index and middle fingers. He was going to get them inside the bound girl. He had to. Pushing up against her tiny star, he tried to put in both fingers, but she was so tight. He had to grip her torso to get some leverage. "Owwww! No! No!" Rosella was crying and screaming in pain now, but Baxter was able to push the fingers inside of her. It was tough but he shoved them in. Once inside, he worked her over, moving them in and out. "I love watching you go through this," he said, at last. "Do you know that?" He waited for Rosella's answer as she sobbed under the strain of his assault. Finally, she nodded, affirmatively.
He was pushing his fingers inside of her up to the knuckle now. Her insides were warm and squeezing his fingers together. He knew she was in misery and he rubbed her back as he continued his rape. With each inward motion he moved her against him, trying to get deeper. The poor girl's face was contorted as she processed feelings of fear, embarrassment, and affliction. Still, he kept going at her, watching with happiness as her asshole stretched painfully to accommodate him. Finally he could take it no longer, he needed some release. Baxter Klein wanted to push Rosella Garcia's young body to its limits. See how much it could take. He knew it could take more. "I need you now," he said.
Once again he was positioned behind her and ready to enter. It was still difficult, but he was able to get the head of his penis inside of her. "No! Please!" She yelled. Only his head was inside and Rosella was miserable. Her pubescent body leaned forward, red marks forming around her wrists where her arms strained against the ropes he had tied around her. Even her legs looked tired. Still, he wanted to do more to her. He needed to use her up. She felt so good around his dick. She was clamping down on him hard, and he knew he wasn't going to last long this way. "Oh God, this feels good." He pushed a couple inches inside of her, then out. "Please no..." she cried. But he kept going watching as her asshole was stretched and ripping around his cock. It started to bleed and he welcomed the extra lubrication.
Rosella was bleeding head to ass now because of him. Just thinking of her fully bleeding body made him harder and he took her full force giving her his entire cock. Her scream echoed throughout the house. "NOOOOOO!!!! STOOPPPPP!" The sound of her cry vibrated through him and fueled his passion. Drove him to slam into her again and again. He knew he was ripping her up, but it felt so good, there was no stopping. Both of his hands were back in her hair now and he was riding her like a mare. With her hands behind her back, she was helpless and unable to gain any balance of her own. Her body moving at his will in ways most painful for her.
Again and again he assaulted her magnificent body listening to the luscious soundtrack of her useless appeals for mercy. At first he was enjoying arching her body up, watching her dangle and slam into him. Now, he leaned over her to give himself more leverage so he could smack her over and over giving her the full force of his weight. He was completely over her, pushing her head down on to the bed, thrusting in and out of her ass. Enjoying the fuck. He noticed that her cries were muffled as he pushed her into the pillows in an effort to go deeper into her. This was the best sex he ever had and he didn't want it to end. He had to keep going.
Damn, he loved pushing himself into this girl. Forcing his way into a hole too small to accommodate him, yet now having to. Both of his hands were on her head pushing her down. Between being pushed into the pillows and congested from crying, Rosella was having a hard time breathing. I'm going to kill this girl if I keep fucking her like this, he thought to himself. But she felt so damn hot and he was so close to coming. Just a little longer. God, she was glorious. Her legs were spread wide, not moving as he continued his attack on her virgin ass. His hands were on her head, buried in her hair, pushing her into the soft pillow, slowly silencing her protests. He was going to come like this.
"I can't breathe," he heard her whisper. She was convulsing and the shaking made his cock swell up in pre-orgasmic bliss.
"That's OK, baby," he said.
"hmpfmm," she said.
Baxter continued fucking her. Knowing inside he was suffocating the teenager. His thoughts ran wild... "Fuck... she is going to die. If I don't stop." He looked down, lusting over her body, feeling his orgasm on its way. "Fuck it, I'm almost there... Damn...I am going to kill this girl. I can feel her under me. This ass is so tight." Slamming in and out. In and out. She was serving him nicely now, her body limp and relaxed as he fed her his cock. He wanted all of her.
His hands moved from her hair to her slim neck and he shuddered over the smooth feel of her skin. Squeezing her now, he marveled at how his hands wrapped around her, choking her as he stabbed her with his cock. It was so easy, taking that next step. With each inward movement, he bared down on her, twisting strong hands around the dying girl's throat. So lost in his lust was he that he had no sense how long or hard had he been squeezing the small neck between his hands. He just kept going....
Her only movements now were those made by him as he jutted her forward, propelled by his lustful momentum. He could not cease, instead, he found himself driving into her further and with greater passion. Her broken body offered no resistance. "Oh, fuck me... God help me, I love it." Over and over, he allowed himself to fuck this girl. Squeezing into her ass. Squeezing her throat. Taking all of her. Knowing he was taking everything. She wasn't moving on her own now, but instead was an appendage of Baxter's forward motion. After a while, Rosella's eyes were fixed forward, slowly glassing over with a fantastic grey echoing the cinder charcoal of her torn up skirt. Baxter felt a wetness come from below as she released bodily fluid at the end of her life.
"Oh shit, I'm coming, I can feel her dying!" Baxter shouted to no one. Sweet Rosella was slipping away. She shuddered against him and he knew this was a dead body moving with him now. Fueled by the thought of her expiring under him, he shot hot cum into her one more time, permitting himself to experience every inch of the still-warm corpse as it shook in its death throws. "YEEeaaaaahhhh fuck, yeah, I'm coming in you Rosella!" His cock shot cum into the lifeless body and he gripped her tight. "This feels.... fantastic! Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Fuck Yeah!"
He wondered how much cum he had pumped into the teenager over the last twenty-four hours. He knew that even this third load was heavy as the last bit of cum juice went into the dead body. Pulling out, he was pleased to see it dripping from her torn up asshole. Small white drips flowing south to meet the remains that still sat in her wasted cunt. How ravishing she looked at this moment, dead but still warm, covered in blood and cum juice. He wondered if he would have enough time to fuck her again before he had to get rid of her and start cleaning up the house.
In another day his wife would be home and they would make love on this bed, and he would pretend to be happy, but he would be thinking of this night of passion. Which was probably the only passionate night he ever had in his life. And when his daughter came home for spring break and visited with friends, her friends would remind him of Rosella. And he would lust after them in ways he never lusted after his wife. Rosella had provided him with the ultimate decadent pleasure, but she had also highlighted in sparkling colors all of the delights in life he was missing. And it was at that moment, he realized that he would do this again.