Megan And Her Mom free porn video

By Mario Caliente


I spotted them in the shopping mall. They stood out amid the bustling horde of Christmas shoppers on the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Swans among sparrows, like Romeo said when he first saw Juliet. (He said something like that, anyway.) Once they caught my attention, it was as if there was no one else around, though I was greatly appreciative of the fact that we WERE surrounded by a teaming mass of aggressive shoppers exuding holiday spirit, because this allowed me to follow them unnoticed, observing everything about them as they moved along, both of them carrying several packages, laughing, stopping from time to time as they walked along the shopping center concourse to look into the display cases of the many stores.

The mother couldn’t have been more than in her late thirties, though she looked much younger. In fact, at first I thought she might have been the older sister of the teenage girl that she was with. But after carefully studying them as they strolled along, both of them occasionally bumped by people pushing past them, but both laughing and having fun nonetheless, I decided that while they might have seemed like sisters, this was, in fact, a mother and her daughter.

At one store the mother waited outside, holding all their bags while her daughter went inside the store. From only ten feet away, as I pretended to be absorbed by whatever the fuck it was in the show window next to me, I was in fact watching the mother intently. A smile was fixed on her face as she idly looked up and done the concourse of the crowed shopping center, waiting for her daughter. She was stunningly good looking. Dark blonde hair fell to her shoulders. She was dressed impeccably in suede boots, designer jeans and a light weight, tight fitting white sweater underneath a brown leather jacket. Perfect for a late November day.

With a lump in my throat and a bulge in my pants, I walked through the crowd toward the mother. As I passed by her, I pretended to be shoved into her by a phantom jostler. I savored the brief moment that our bodies touched. My hard-on actually brushed her ass through her jeans, just beneath the hem of her leather jacket. I smiled at her with a helpless expression on my face and said “excuse me, ma’am”, and she smiled back, saying “no problem”. She must not have felt my hard-on. I knew at that moment, seeing close up her shinning eyes and bright smile, that I would somehow, someway, sometime, rape the living shit out of her.

I walked ten feet past her and paused before another store window, and began observing her from this new angle. She looked a little bit like a Catherine Zeta Jones, only with dark blonde hair. I saw her check her watch and peer into the store where her daughter was. A few more minutes passed when her daughter came back out, grabbed her mother’s purse from her shoulder, and ran back into the store. I starred at the mother, who now wore a look of exasperation. I wondered where her husband was. I pictured her naked on a bed, a pillow under her ass, her legs open and raised as I mounted her. The swelling in my pants was intense. I swore to myself that I would, in fact, at some point really be mounting her!

A few more minutes passed before the daughter came out of the store with another package. They conversed briefly, and then strolled off purposely down the concourse. From a safe distance I followed them. Through the bobbing and weaving of the crowd, I occasionally got good glances of them from behind. My attention now turned to the daughter. I guessed that she was about sixteen. At about 5’6” she was already maybe an inch taller than her mother, and her blonde hair was much lighter. You could tell by their facial features that they were related, although I didn’t quite see the Catherine Zeta Jones angle in the younger one. She was wearing a brown corduroy jacket that did not reach the top of her low hanging jeans. Beneath the jacket was a delicate top that didn’t come down to her jeans, either. “Don’t these girls get cold in the winter?” I thought to myself. I wasn’t complaining. Her outfit provided me a good full inch of her bare skin just above the point where her ass and hips began to swell into her jeans. A hint of her thong panties—red—was just visible above the top of her jeans. I was glad to see she didn’t have one of those tattoos on that particular part of her body. So many girls have those these days that they have become boring. Maybe mommy won’t let her have one yet? Or daddy?

Suddenly, the thought of having both of these hot females at the same time entered my perverted mind. My eyes went from one to the other as I followed them. I began fantasizing about having both pairs of those jeans down around both pairs of ankles. Having both those delicious asses in the air, mother’s and daughter’s, side by side, waiting for my penis to penetrate them both! Asses waiting in the air. Waiting….

********

My head was dizzy from this thought, but the feeling cleared as the woman and her daughter went outside and I followed them from a distance into the cool early evening air. The sun had just set, and in not too many minutes it would be dark. I followed them to their car, a recent model SUV. Oblivious to my presence forty feet away, mother got in behind the wheel and daughter in the passenger’s seat. I quickly ran to my own car which fortunately was only several rows away. As I steered my car toward the exit of the parking lot I found that my subjects’ car was three cars in front of me.

They pulled out onto the street and headed west. I followed. The fact that it was nearly dark meant that it would be harder to follow them, but it also meant that it would be harder for them to tell they were being followed—one pair of headlights in the rearview mirror is like any other.

Our cars got onto the freeway, and drove three or four exits before getting off. We then headed down a road that took us into a fairly fancy residential neighborhood. I managed to usually leave a car or two between us, but after turning onto a much smaller and quieter street, it was only their car and mine. The houses here were large and on rather spacious lots. Soon, their car pulled into a driveway. I slowed as I saw the garage door opening. As I drove past, I noted that the two car garage was half full of boxes, leaving only space for a single vehicle which now drove into it. Checking the number on the house—444—I drove on past. The garage door shut.

*****

I drove back to a commercial area and stopped at a down home style bar, the kind of place where virtually all the patrons are regulars. I sat at the bar and ordered a beer. I pulled a pen and notebook from my jacket. After taking a big first swig from the beer, I started to take notes. I had planning to do. I wrote: “Operation: mother/daughter.” Then a check list: “1. who lives in house? 2. Husband? 3. Other kids? 4. When do they come and go? 5. Security system?”

The fact that there was space for only one car in the garage was interesting. I would have to drive by later that night to see if another car was later parked in the driveway. A husband’s car? Or, was this suburban mother a divorcee or widow, meaning that I wouldn’t have to worry about the presence of a male when I invaded the house? In my mind, the raping of a happily married woman would be particularly satisfying, but it didn’t matter. I was very happy with my selected victim. Or, I should say, victims. Very happy, indeed.

Fortunately, I would be able to find out everything I needed to know about my prey. I had the time to do so. I didn’t have to work for a living. My parents died several years ago and left all kinds of insurance money for my sister and me. I never had to work again if I didn’t want to, though I took bartending jobs from time to time. That was a great way to meet chicks and get laid, and there was a period there when I was getting more ass than I knew what to do with. But I had become bored with that routine. I wanted something different. I wanted to do something…wicked. Something perverted. But I didn’t know what. Until the magic night came, This chick had stuck around the bar until closing time and then asked if I could give her a ride home. We got to her place, and got to making out pretty heavily on the couch in her living room. Her roommate was out of town. But then, the bitch put the brakes on after I had had my hands all over her. Said she had just broken up with a boyfriend and didn’t want to feel that she was going to have sex with me on the rebound. Well, I lost it. I wrestled her to the floor and tore her clothes off. She resisted, and the more she resisted, the more excited I got. In fact, I was so intoxicated with her resistance that when I finally got my cock in her and felt her acquiescing, I got pissed. I slapped her. I wanted her to keep struggling while I fucked her. (But I didn’t slap her too hard. I didn’t leave any bruises. She knew where I worked, and if the cops came knocking I needed to be able to convince them that the sex was consensual—rough, but consensual, just the way she said she liked it. I made sure, though, to take the woman’s ripped blouse with me when I left her house. It didn’t need to look like it had been TOO rough!) The next day, a light bulb came on in my head. I knew from that moment what it was that turned me on. My male organ stirred at the very thought of it. I needed to find, abduct and rape a strange woman!

That’s what I was doing at the mall. Shopping for a victim. It was looking like I found a bargain sale. You know. Buy one, get one free.

*****

Early the next morning, a Monday, my car was parked two doors down from 444. My car’s windows were darkly tinted and it could not be seen that I or anyone was sitting in it. At 7:00 am, the SUV backed out of the garage, into the street, and pulled away. It appeared that the same two females as the night before were in the car. I followed them from a discreet distance.

The girl was let off at a catholic high school five miles away. The SUV continued on, with me following. I had to remain several cars behind in order to remain inconspicuous. In another five miles the SUV pulled into a four story office complex, and the woman parked and got out. She was dressed in a very smart business skirt suit and carried a stylish lap top bag. Walking briskly with never a glance to her surroundings, the woman entered the building.

I went and had breakfast. A Mexican joint that made my favorite: huevos rancheros.

Later that morning I was jogging and just happened to be on the street where they lived. I was whistling that tune from “My Fair Lady” about the excitement of being on the street where someone special lives. As I was passing the curbside mailbox at 444, I suddenly felt the need to cling to something and retch. I choose the mailbox to lean on. Leaning over it, faking a retch, I opened the mailbox and quickly took out its contents: some junk mail, a bill and a magazine. (I had seen the mailman pass by forty minutes earlier.) The mail fit nicely beneath my sweatshirt. Slowly I continued on, soon breaking into a jog again. It certainly seemed to be a quiet residential neighborhood.

Half an hour later I was at a Starbucks reading their mail. The bills were addressed to a Sandra McFarland. The magazine, one for teenage girls, was addressed to Megan Nichols. Nothing for a Mr. McFarland or a Mr. Nichols. Interesting.

Pulling out my lap top, I quickly found Megan Nichols on Facebook. Hmmm. Nice picture. Pretty girl. Under “likes and interests”, then “activities”, I discovered that she played volleyball. Was on her high school volleyball team. Birthday….was last month, and let’s see…she’s only sixteen! Big time jail bait! Well, what I planned to do would carry jail time regardless of the age! Proceed carefully, my friend.

I sipped my coffee, then called Megan’s high school and found out that there was a game at the school that night at 7:00.

**********

Megan’s team was in a tight struggle with the visiting squad. The crowd was not large, but large enough for me to blend in unnoticed. I was sitting in the visitor’s section, close but not too close to some of the visiting parents. I figured I would not be sniffed out as a stalking sexual predator if the home crowd on the other side of the court assumed I was a visiting relative, and the visiting crowd assumed that I was just out of place.

Megan looked fantastic in her tight, short volleyball shorts and equally tight fitting jersey, number 5. There were several other hotties on her team, and on the other team, as well, but I had eyes only for Megan. Her long legs were sleek and smooth. Her blonde hair was pinned up for the game, but loose strands would work free, causing her to brush them out of her face occasionally. Her young breasts, obviously held in place by some sort of sports bra, appeared to be having an ongoing fight with her jersey regarding space rights. How, I wondered, did the nuns at this catholic school let these young girls prance around in such sexy, provocative attire? Looking around the gym, though, I didn’t see any nuns. They must have not been sports fans.

I was extremely disappointed at the beginning of the game that Megan’s mom, Sandra, was not to be seen among the twenty or so parents in the home crowd. My disappointment turned to elation, though, when, with the game tied 5-5 in the first set, in she came, hurrying, still dressed as she was that morning when I followed her to work. My eyes followed her like a hawk watching a rabbit as she hurried in on the other side of the court. She climbed several rows up in the bleachers and plopped into a seat near three other mothers who greeted her warmly. No man was around them. “Where is the father?” I wondered. Is there a Mr. McFarland/Nichols? Megan’s Facebook entries hadn’t provided a clue on this.

In any event, from then on my eyes rotated between Megan on the court and her mom in the bleachers. When Megan, at the net, had a rousing kill, the home crowd cheered lustily. Sandra jumped up, laughing and clapping. Two of the other mothers gave her high fives. I pictured her naked, tied to a bed.

After a time-out, I noticed how Megan lingered a moment with the coach, a good looking guy in his thirties, who put a hand on her shoulder as he gave her some one-on-one instruction. How could a guy like that be around a bunch of hot little teenie boppers, I wondered, without either going crazy or getting busted for statutory?

Megan’s team pulled out an exciting three set victory. She and her teammates celebrated wildly, while their parents stood applauding. Meanwhile, half of the girls on the losing team were crying while their parents also applauded, but in a more subdued manner. One of the girls on the other team did draw my attention away from Megan and her mom for a moment, a dark little brunette who had dropped to the floor in despair after match point. As I watched her sitting there, her elbows on her knees, her face buried in her hands, an image flashed through my head of her tied up in the back of a van, her volleyball shirt and sports bra pushed up around her neck, her tight shorts in a bunch around her bound ankles, revealing her dark skinned body in all its beauty. I was driving the van to a remote location….

I snapped out of my fantasy in time to see Megan and her mom embracing at courtside. As the crowd then filed out of the gym, I was only steps behind the two of them as they walked out into the school hallway and headed for the doors. Megan had put on a warm-up suit and walked with her mother outside to the SUV, waving and saying goodbyes to teammates and their families.

There was no need to follow them from a close distance this time since I knew where they lived. I drove past their house maybe five minutes after they returned home. The lights inside were on. I was glad the garage door was closed; otherwise I might have been tempted to get things going with them prematurely. And that would not have been a wise decision. I still had planning to do.

********

The following morning I was in my other car, waiting just down the street from 444. I had changed cars, obviously, so as not to draw suspicion. As I awaited the garage door to open, I looked carefully at the home security system sign that was placed close to the front door of the house. Was it for real? I knew people who did not invest in such systems, but who placed signs like this so that people like me would think they had them. I was going to assume the sign was for real. That meant no breaking and entering.

As I was contemplating various entry possibilities, the garage door opened. It was almost exactly the same time as the day before. Good. A pattern. I noticed something else that was very interesting, something that had also happened the day before. The mother would get in the SUV and have the engine running, still in the garage with the door open, and would have to honk several times before the girl would come running out to the car.

Before the SUV could back out of the driveway, I started my car and drove away. No need to follow anymore. I knew where the woman was going. I drove straight to Sandra’s office building and was waiting inside the door when she walked in after dropping her daughter off at school. It was an office building that had a number of different businesses located in it: real estate offices, insurance agents and the like. I pretended to be studying the building’s directory, mounted on a wall just inside the door, as Sandra came striding in and walked past me, her high heels clicking on the tile floor. Casually, I turned and followed her. She was wearing a black suit, its skirt falling to the knees. It would have been considered a conservative outfit except for a not too subtle slit up one side of the skirt, a slit that left no doubt that her legs were quite sensational. As she walked briskly toward her office in the same manner as she had undoubtedly done on countless other mornings, with her shoulder length dark blonde hair bouncing and her fine, trim ass swinging softly, she did not know that on this particular morning a rapist was stalking her. Her future rapist’s eyes fixed on that sensual ass as it swayed before him. His hands soon enough would be upon that ass. Only it wouldn’t be clothed when that happened.

The woman entered office number 112. On the glass door of the office was written “Sandra McFarland and Associates”. A secretary type was at a desk near the door. I watched her greet Sandra, who continued walking and entered one of several backroom offices.

An hour late I was dialing the phone number for Sandra McFarland and Associates. A woman answered. “Yes,” I said, I’m looking for Sandra Nichols”.

“Sandra Nichols?” The woman’s voice sounded confused. “This is Sandra McFarland and Associates…wait, Nichols was Ms. McFarland’s married name.”

“Was?” I asked.

“She’s no longer married.” A bit of irritation appeared to be creeping into voice on the other end of the line. “Is it Ms. McFarland that you want? May I say who’s calling?”

“No, that’s okay, I think I’ve got the wrong person. Thanks anyway.” I hung up.

So, she’s divorced! Or widowed, whatever. Mother and daughter live alone! No big, bad male dude to worry about! A big smile covered my face as I sipped my Starbucks coffee.

********

The next morning, Wednesday, I was ready. I had my handy bag of tricks with me, and was dressed as a meter reader might be dressed. From the previous two mornings I knew the time that the garage door would open, and I was busy pretending to read the next door neighbor’s meter when the door opened this morning. Quickly, I moved to the side of 444 and pressed myself against the exterior wall of the garage. In casing the layout I knew that no nosey neighbor could see me at this particular spot. I heard the SUV’s engine come to life. I ducked down and turned the corner leading to the open garage door, and entered the garage, crawling beside the passenger side of the SUV, my body too low to be seen by the driver. Had the girl come sooner to get into the passenger seat, she would have tripped over me. I was prepared for that contingency, and would have sprung into action at the moment if the situation had called for it. But that wasn’t Plan A.

The horn honked as I crawled past the passenger side door, dragging my bag of tricks, and made it to the boxes stacked on the right side of the garage.

I made it to the boxes just in time. Megan came bounding through the door from the house and into the garage just seconds after I was able to hide. She passed not three feet from me. Crouching close to the ground, I got a good look at her legs at my eye level, a beautiful pair of well shaped legs that were well displayed beneath the hem of an incredibly short, catholic school girl’s plaid and pleated skirt. Yum! How could a male math teacher keep his mind on teaching with this honey sitting in the front row!?

The SUV backed out of the garage. My heart raced as I sat there on the concrete floor of the garage, behind the boxes, waiting for the door to close. It seemed like it took forever, but at last I heard the mechanism of the garage door opener jump to life. Still, it seemed to take forever for the fucking garage door to close. One it did, I found myself sitting on cold concrete in total darkness. Being so uncomfortable had never felt so good. Outside I heard the SUV pull away. I smiled in the darkness. Plan A, Step One completed, I thought.

********

I passed the time away watching television and helping myself to the refrigerator, although these women didn’t share my taste in food at all. I spent a lot of time also carefully going through drawers and closets to get a feel for my victims. They had a pet cat, but the critter took one look at me and disappeared somewhere. I felt fortunate that their pet was a lazy cat and not some fucking pit bull.

I studied every detail about the house, especially the upstairs, where there were three bedrooms, one a master suite, plus a bathroom that served the smaller two bedrooms. One of the smaller bedrooms, which didn’t have much of a lived-in feeling, was obviously a guest room. The other room was Megan’s, decorated as you might expect a sixteen year old girl’s bedroom to be decorated. Except, hadn’t she outgrown teddy bears? Guess not. Over her bed were three shelves crammed full of these silly stuffed animals.

I amused myself quite awhile by examining the contents of her underwear drawer, and then moved on the spacious master bedroom.

Here there was a large, king size bed with night tables on both sides, and two medium sized easy chairs. The furnishings were classy and expensive. Sandra’s ex must have been worth a bunch, or else Sandra McFarland and Associates was doing quite well. My attention, of course, was riveted on the bed. Sandra was a tidy person, having made the bed that morning, in contrast to Megan’s room, which looked like it had been ransacked. I was absolutely giddy over the fact that the metal bed head had a horizontal bar that ran the width of the bed, from post to post. I squinted my eyes and pictured Sandra and her daughter, their wrists handcuffed to that horizontal bar.

I figured that Megan would probably have volleyball practice after school and not arrive home until maybe five o’clock. A reminder note from Sandra to Megan that was stuck on the refrigerator door informed me that the mother would not be home until nearly 7:00 due to her workout class. The note told Megan to get dinner out of the freezer and into the microwave.

The thought occurred that Megan might come home with a friend. Well, that would be okay. As long as it was a girl friend. And as long as I got their fucking cell phones away from them quickly enough. I certainly had enough handcuffs and duct tape in my little bag for a party of three.

About 4:00 pm—quite earlier that I expected—I heard the garage door open.

*******

Megan came in from the garage. She was alone. She was still wearing her catholic school girl uniform: short, pleated, plaid skirt, white blouse with a light weight burgundy sweater. She flung her coat and school bag on the dining room table and went into the kitchen. I hid in a corner of the dining room, from where I could easily view her as I looked into the kitchen underneath a set of overhanging cabinets. The girl opened the fridge and helped herself to some orange juice, then paused to read the instruction note that her mother had stuck to the fridge door. I watched as she then opened the freezer door and withdrew a Tupperware. She then placed this in the microwave and hit the defrost button.

At that moment her cell phone rang. “Hey, what’s ya doin’?” A pause while the person on the other end spoke. “Coach gave us practice off today. Yeah, ‘cause we played, like, totally awesome Monday night, he said we deserved a rest.”

As she spoke on the phone, she picked up her school bag and headed up the stairs. “Coach Brady is so cool. I have, like, this biggest crush on him!.......He is so hot!.......I know he’s married. Like, I care about that!” With that she giggled loudly. She was in her bedroom now, and threw herself onto her bed. I had just made it up the stairs myself and stood outside her door, listening. In my hand was my bag of tricks containing the necessary items that I believed would be needed throughout the time that I would be in this house.

“He touched me! Yes! He did! In the game, he put his hand on my shoulder. I almost fainted. I played like shit afterwards, I couldn’t concentrate on the game……Would I fuck him? Marcy, you are so gross.” She paused. “Of course I’d fuck him! Like, duh!” She giggled uncontrollably. “I mean, like, I gotta loose my stupid virginity one of these days!.....I am serious….Well, of course he’d get in trouble if anyone found out. But nobody would find out. Except you!” More giggles. There was silence as her friend talked on the other end. “Bobby Wilson!?” she then exclaimed. “I don’t want to loose my virginity that bad!” More giggles. “Talk about people finding out, if I let Bobby Wilson in my panties the whole school would know.”

My penis got really hard listening to Megan talk to her friend.

They talked about school and boys for another ten minutes. It started to get a little boring until Megan said something that made my ears prick up. “Hey, I’m going to watch that porno flick you gave me. I gotta watch it now before my mom gets home, duh!....Is it really gross? I’ll learn stuff? Hey, Marcy, I know more than you think I do. I’m not that innocent…OK, call you later. Bye.”

With that Megan got off the bed. Peeking around the door, I could see her putting a DVD into a TV/player on the far side of the room. Then, she turned and skipped toward the door. I flattened myself quickly against the wall and she passed right by me without seeing me out of the corner of her eye on her way to the bathroom.

I took a deep breath, then darted into the girl’s bedroom and hid in a closet, leaving the closet door ajar one inch. This afforded me an unobstructed view of her bed, something I had filed away in my brain while casing the joint during the day.

Soon, Megan came back into the bedroom and plopped again on her bed. One of her teddy bears fell on her from the shelf above her bed. She grabbed it and hugged it. She was still wearing her school uniform, though she must have kicked her shoes off somewhere. The short skirt provided me with a very nice beaver shot of lacey white panties as she sprawled on the bed. The expanse of lovely, smooth thigh that lead to the panties was breathtaking. I’m not sure that I didn’t make a gasping sound from my hiding place in the closet at the sight of those spectacular legs, but if I did, the girl did not hear me.

Megan grabbed the TV’s remote control and turned on the TV and DVD player. Clutching her teddy bear, she watched as the porno flick commenced. Her line of sight went past me to where the TV stood. I could not see the TV from my vantage point, but I could certainly hear it. And the actor and actress did not waste much time on small talk before I could hear the actress moaning as if she was already getting the best fuck she had ever had.

I watched the girl’s expression with the fervor of a scientist observing a pet project. Her eyes and mouth were wide open as she starred with wonder at the tube. “Yes. Yes! Yes!” the actress in the film was crying. “Eat my pussy!” Megan continued to stare at the tube. The only thing wider than her eyes was her mouth, which gaped in disbelief. Holding her teddy bear in her left arm, her right hand slowly found its way under the hemline of her catholic school girl dress, which was easy given the way it was hiked up nearly to her waist.

Megan’s fingers then carefully entered beneath the waistband of her white, lacey panties. She pushed the unwanted undergarment down to give her fingers free access to her virgin pussy. As the porno flick continued to roll—by the sound of it, the woman was now sucking the man’s cock—the girl before me on the bed scooted down into a fully laying position, her head back. She spread her luscious thighs apart to provide her fingers with even better access to her sex. With her left hand that was clutching teddy, she reached for the remote control and turned off the TV. Before my very eyes, sixteen year old Megan Nichols began to masturbate.

The room was quiet now as the teenage girl lay flat on her back on her bed, thighs parted, her fingers moving slowly but deftly against the recently matured womanhood that lay beneath her panties. Something told me she had done this before. She really seemed to know what she was doing. After a few minutes, she impatiently pushed her panties all the way down and off her long, beautiful legs. This allowed her to spread her legs apart easier. Her hand quickly resumed its activity between those fine legs, but not before I got an eyeful of her bare pussy beneath the school girl skirt that now lay hiked around her waist.

“Oh, Coach Brady” I heard her moan as her legs scissored over the sheets of her bed, her eyes shut tightly. “Oh, yes, Coach Brady. Yes, I want you.” Her voice was so soft I could barely make out what she was saying. There was a long pause in her moaning words as her slender fingers began to work more feverishly over her sex.

“No”, she said softly. “No one will ever know. This will be our little secret, Coach Brady. I won’t tell a soul, I promise!”

The girl took her hand away from her pussy. She needed it to help her other hand in pushing her burgundy sweater up around her chin. The teddy bear had long since fallen to the floor, where it stared up stupidly at her. The girl then furiously unbuttoned her blouse and spread it open, then struggled out of her bra, pushing it up around her neck together with her sweater, affording me my first view of her firm and perfectly shaped young breasts.

Her right hand then raced back to a pussy that I could tell from my vantage point some six feet away was quite wet. “Coach Brady!” she exclaimed, her head to her side, her eyes tightly shut. “My, you are so…aggressive! You wanted me, didn’t you? I know you’ve wanted me for a long time. Now…you’re having me!” she cried.

As Megan masturbated vigorously with her right hand, her left hand pushed her sweater all the way up over her head. The left hand then came back down to her breasts and began to massage them as she continued to fuck herself with the fingers of her talented right hand.. “You don’t have to be so rough, Coach Brady!” she moaned.

With the girl’s head effectively covered by the sweater, I stepped gingerly from the cramped closet. Slowly, I moved to edge of the girl’s bed, making no sound, though I don’t think she would have heard a train coming through her room at that moment. I knelt by the bed, my face not three feet from the girl’s writhing body. I watched in amazement as she came to orgasm. Planting her feet on the bed, she arched her back high off the mattress and let out a moan that could have easily been heard downstairs had there been anybody there.

After holding her back arched for the longest moment, the girl suddenly collapsed back onto the bed, and then rolled over to her side, facing away from me, the sweater still covering her face.

I had pulled a pair of handcuffs from my bag of tricks and at this moment quickly pulled the girls arms behind her back and fastened the cuffs to her wrists before she knew what hit her.

**********

Megan squealed in a myriad of passions: shock, disbelief, incomprehension, fear, bewilderment. With her hands now cuffed behind her back, I rolled her onto her back, pinning her arms beneath her, her face still covered by her sweater. I straddled her prone body, a body scantily clad with the wildly disheveled clothes of a catholic school girl. Her shock was so great that after her initial squeal, no sound other than very deep, gasping breaths came from beneath the sweater covering her face.

I was straddling her waist, knees on either side of her of her upper body. Her lovely, exposed breasts were there before me, between my knees, ready for my hands to feel them, to squeeze them. But there was no rush. “Listen to me, Megan,” I said calmly. “If you’re a good girl you don’t have to be afraid, okay?” But there was no response from her. Only her deep, fear laden gasps of air from beneath the sweater. “Look” I continued, “I’m going to take the sweater off your face, okay? You’re going to see me. You’re going to see that I’m a nice guy. I’m a nice guy who’s just here to have some fun, okay?” Still no response. “Megan, nod your head yes. Tell me that when I take the sweater off your head you’re not going to freak out, okay?” I paused. “Okay? I repeated.

Her body remained rigid in fear, but beneath the sweater I detected the slightest nodding of her head. “Okay, then, here goes”. I pulled the sweater downward, to her neck, revealing her beautiful but fear struck face. Tears were streaming down rosy cheeks from eyes wide with fright.

I smiled at her. “Who….what…?” These were the only two words that she could get out.

“Who am I?” I asked the question for her. “I’m a guy who thinks that it’s time for a girl with a body like yours to get fucked.” She looked at me as if she didn’t comprehend what I was saying. My two hands cupped her breasts and squeezed them as our eyes locked, hers wide as an owl’s. She obviously was having trouble even realizing that this was happening. It was priceless.

My hands fondled her exposed breasts, gently at first, and then with a little more pressure, making her nipples extend between my fingers. “Don’t hurt me!” she managed to cry.

“I told you, Megan. You be a good girl and you’ll be okay. Do you understand?”

“How do you know my name?” she gasped.

I now squeezed her breasts hard. She squirmed and grimaced. Staring into her beautiful, blue eyes, I repeated firmly: “Do you understand, Megan? That if you cooperate with me I won’t hurt you? Do you understand?”

I squeezed her tits especially hard. “Ouch”! she cried. “Get off me, you creep!”

I slapped her face hard. Her head fell in the direction of the slap, toward the wall. She lay there motionless, stung by the slap to her face. I stood up and took off my clothes. As I did so, my eyes drank in the marvelous scene before me: a beautiful and sexy sixteen year old blonde, lying stunned on her back on her bed, her arms pinned beneath her back, her legs spread, her skirt in a tangle around her waist high above her exposed pussy. Her blouse was laid open and her bra and sweater were pushed up around her neck, laying bare a pair of firm, youthful tits that were already red from my squeezing of them—a color of red that matched that of her check where she had just received a hard slap.

The girl moaned and turned her head back around to face me. What she saw when she did this was a naked man standing beside her bed. While she had probably at least touched the penises of a boyfriend or two before, I was thinking that this rock hard and upright specimen that was now three feet before her face was probably her first real good look at a male sex organ. Her pouty lips parted as her chin literally dropped. I wish I had had a picture of it.

I climbed on the bed between the girl’s legs. “No” she whined softly. “Look…my mom’s...my…my parents…are going to be home really soon. You’d better get out of here!” There was panic in her voice. This turned me on as much as anything else about her.

I reached under the girl’s ass and lifted her crotch toward my face. She shrieked, as this put more pressure on her back, which was crushing her arms. Holding the girl firmly by her twin ass cheeks, I drew her young cunt to within inches of my face. My eyes devoured her female sex. Then, pressing my face into her crotch as she screamed in protest, it was my mouth that began devouring her female sex.

The sensation of eating freshly masturbated teenage pussy was fantastic. It was sopping wet from her earlier activity and tasted delicious. As I ate her, my tongue penetrating her vagina and tasting its tanginess, the girl struggled against me, but ineffectively. With each of my hands firmly holding an ass cheek, and with my mouth buried as far into her cunt as possible, I looked down the girl’s nude body, past her perky tits and to her very pretty face, which was framed by her wadded up blouse and sweater beneath her chin and her beautiful, long blonde hair cascading over her forehead. Her eyes were shut tight, but her mouth was wide open in a silent scream.

After struggling against me for a long while, the girl at last fell motionless—exhausted, surely—as I continued to ravage her girlhood with my lips, tongue and teeth. And then, almost imperceptibly at first, her lower abdomen actually began to gyrate against my face. Her soft, firm thighs pressed against my cheeks as I buried my face into her pussy. The thought of how hot those legs—legs which were now wrapped around my face—had looked on the volleyball court came rushing through my head and made my cock nearly explode.

I was not sure at first, but before long it became obvious: the little bitch was fucking back against my face with her hot little cunt! What a little whore! It wasn’t too long before her body rocked in the throes of her second orgasm in less than fifteen minutes, only this time, instead of her orgasm being induced by her own fingers, it was induced by the ravaging mouth of a strange intruder. It was all I could do to keep my mouth firmly planted on my lovely victim’s genitals, she bucked so hard.

Although there had been very little friction against my cock—the head of it would bang occasionally against the girl’s back as I held her by the ass and ate her cunt like a watermelon—I also felt that I was on the verge of cumming. Dropping the girl’s ass to the bed, I moved to her head. Grabbing her by the hair and lifting her head with one hand, I pinched her nose shut with my other hand, forcing her to open her mouth to breathe. As she did so, I shoved my swollen cock into her warm, moist mouth.

“Bite me and I’ll kill you!” I hissed.

The young girl, my swollen cock now shoved into her mouth, starred wildly up at me with scarred, wide eyes. Her ruby lips surrounded the thick circumference of my throbbing cock. When I had forced her mouth open, I had noticed for the first time that she wore braces, but they were the non-metallic, tooth colored variety that were hardly visible.

Feeling the moist warmth of her mouth envelop my manhood was priceless. I had masturbated to the thought of this sweet little honey when I had gone to bed the night that I first spotted her in the shopping mall. Now, here she was in the flesh, her tongue on one side of my dick and the roof of her mouth on the other. Holding her head in my hands, I began fucking her delicate, sweet mouth with firm in-and-out thrusts as she struggled beneath me. She quickly began to gag, causing her mouth to contract around my manhood, tripping a mammoth orgasm. With a resounding “Yes!” that caused the bedroom’s windows to rattle, and with our eyes still locked on each other’s, I thrust deeply into the young girl’s oral cavity and shot hot cum into her throat. Her gagging continued, causing my penis to slip out of her mouth. This caused a second squirt of cum to catch her square in the face. Putting one hand on the top of her head and the other beneath her chin, I kept her mouth forced shut. I wanted to make sure that she swallowed all of the cum that had gone into her mouth.

“Swallow!” I hissed at her. She continued to look up at me with her big, blue eyes that would have melted my heart if I had had one. “Swallow!” I repeated, shaking her head roughly. She then took a big gulp. I watched as her neck muscled contracted, and was satisfied that a good quantity of my warm sperm was now on its way down to the stomach of this hot little teen.

I released my grip on her, and then smeared the cum that had landed outside her mouth all over her face and neck. I then fell on top of her, pressing her mostly naked body deep into the mattress, crushing her arms beneath her back. I lay there spent while sixteen year old Megan Nichols, still technically a virgin, lay beneath me, crying softly, her stomach juices already beginning to digest male sperm for the first time in her young life.

*******

“Please… get off me,” she begged a moment later. “You’re really hurting my arms!”

I rolled off her, and she immediately rolled to her side, finally taking weight of her poor arms. As I lay beside her, the strength that had been drained from me when I climaxed was slowly returning. The girl, facing away from me, was quiet. She had quit crying. Slowly, almost absently, my hands began exploring her nubile body. Her body tensed slightly at this, but she didn’t offer any resistance. I pushed her skirt, which had been in a bunch around her waist, down her legs and off her feet. Her blouse, bra and sweater remained in disarray around her upper torso. With her hands cuffed behind her back I could not remove these items. That didn’t matter at the moment.

My hands felt up every inch of Megan Nichol’s hot, young body. As they did so, I recalled the moments I had seen her in public: that first time in the shopping center in her tight jeans, and then at her volleyball game. As my hand traveled up and down her long, smooth, bare legs, I remembered how fantastic, how athletic those legs had looked as she moved around like a tigress on the volleyball court. My cock was re-stiffening now as my hands now groped those nicely muscled legs and ran in between her inviting thighs. I recalled how marvelous her young breasts had looked when pressed against her tight volleyball jersey, and now I was cupping those very tits in my hands, squeezing them, feeling the nipples stiffen between my fingers.

The young teenager was trembling. “Are you going to kill me?”

She was lying on her side in a pre-natal position, her back to me as my hands groped her. Her words were so soft that I barely heard her. “No, sweetheart, I told you. If you’re a good girl, I won’t hurt you. You remember I told you that?” When she didn’t respond, I shook her shoulder. “Do you remember I said that?” I repeated.

“Yes,” she said softly, still facing away from me.

“What I am going to do, Megan, is, I’m going to fuck you.” I paused. “Will that be okay with you?” I was rewarded with a soft gasp from her throat and redoubled trembling in her hot, young body. “You liked it when I ate your pussy. You came all over my face. I bet you’ll like my dick even more.”

“No...please mister…”

“Shut up, Megan!” I continued my fondling that nude body—nude save for the blouse and sweater that continued bunched around her neck and shoulders. “So, far, I think you have been a very good girl. I think you’re a very smart girl. Smart enough to know what’s good for you.” I paused, my hand on the curve of her ass. “I’ll bet you’re an A student, aren’t you, Megan?”

When she didn’t respond, I said, “Megan, part of being a good girl is answering me when I ask you something. Now, I asked if you were an A student.”

This time she nodded her head. I spanked her ass hard. “Speak to me!” I hissed.

“Yes!” she cried.

“Yes what?”

”Yes I’m an A student!”

“That’s better.” My hands now went between her thighs as she continued lying in her fetal position, her back to me.

“Have you ever been fucked before, Megan?”

Her body tensed, but she said nothing. Patiently, I repeated my question. This time, in a whispered voice that I could hardly hear: “No.”

“You’re a virgin?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked. She was sobbing quietly.

“Christ,” I said, “I thought kids your age these days were getting it on!”

There was silence in the room. The girl’s sobs were so subdued as to be inaudible. “The boys in that fucking Catholic school must be fucking gay!” I continued. My hand was now reaching around her, fondling her young breasts.

“I don’t think Bobby Wilson is gay,” I said. “Have you gone out with Bobby?”

“How do you…” she started, then stopped.

“How do I know about you and Bobby Wilson? I know a lot about you, Megan. More than you can imagine.” At that point I squeezed one of her breasts hard. She groaned. “And, I’m glad to say, I’m getting to know you now even better!” I played with her nipple that was actually quite erect.

“Hasn’t Bobby tried to get into your panties?”

I waited patiently for her to answer. There was silence for at least ten seconds. Finally, as if she remembered that she had best answer my questions, she said: “Yes. All boys have. Boys are sick! You’re sick!”

I laughed at that. My hand was now feeling her slender neck. After awhile, I asked: “Is your hymen still intact?” This time, after waiting fewer than ten seconds, I removed my hand from her neck and spanked her round ass with force.

“Ouch!” she cried.

“Answer me, you little cunt! Is your fucking hymen still in place?”

“I…I…don’t know!” she cried.

“Well, let’s find out!” With that I rolled the girl onto her back once again, her arms beneath her, and pushed her thighs apart.

“No!” she cried, but my hand was already at the juncture of her legs. With her arms still pinned behind her back, she was powerless to do anything to stop me. She kicked her legs in protest, but that didn’t hinder me from inserting a finger knuckle-deep into her vagina. She threw her head to one side and shut her eyes tightly as this male intruder had his way with her pussy. Her grimaces told me that she felt it when a second finger was introduced into her virgin intimacy.

What was a hymen supposed to feel like, though? I frankly had very little experience with virgins. With my thumb outside on the girl’s lower belly, I pushed my two fingers deeply into her. There was no barrier of any kind that impeded my access.

“Do you stick things up your cunt when you masturbate, Megan?” I asked her as my fingers continued to explore her girlhood. No response. I squeezed her, pushing down on her belly with my thumb, trying to touch the fingers inside her pussy with the thumb. “Do you fucking stick things up your cunt!?”

“Yes!” she cried, squirming beneath me on the bed.

“Good,” I said. “Then you’ll be ready for a real cock!”

As the teenage girl squirmed uncomfortably on the bed, my gynecological examination of her gradually evolved into a regular old finger fucking. Two of my fingers penetrated her tight, wet vagina with in-and-out strokes while my thumb played against her clitoris. My other hand massaged her fine, young breasts. The fear that had engrossed the girl earlier in our encounter was now morphing into humiliation as she threw her head to its side, facing away from me and the indignity of my fingers having their way with her femininity.

“If this were Coach Brady doing this to you, it’d be okay, wouldn’t it, Megan?”

Again the girl gave a sign of surprise, but then she spat: “Coach Brady would kill you for doing this!”

“Oh, a father figure, huh? I thought you wanted to fuck him?”

“Fuck you!” she spat. I had to chuckle at that.

Initially, in her humiliation at being finger fucked by a home invader, the girl’s instincts had been to try to close her legs against this violation. This was fine with me, for it allowed me to feel the pressure of the insides of her luscious thighs as I finger fucked her. After several long minutes of this, however, she more or less gave up any resistance, and I felt her body sag back onto the mattress, her legs relaxing.

“Good girl, Megan,” I said soothingly. “Just relax. Let this happen.” I studied the side of her face as she continued to look away from me, toward the wall. I could see my dried sperm caked on her cheek.

My penis by this time was once again huge and ready for action. I wanted to fuck this girl very badly, and it took will power at this moment not to mount the little bitch and fuck her brains loose. But I wanted to do it in front of her mother. I wanted her mother to watch as her darling little teenage daughter was raped before her very eyes.

I glanced at my watch. It was five thirty. I had been assaulting my victim for over an hour. “When does your mother get home, Megan?” I continued finger fucking the girl as I spoke.

The girl snapped her head around and looked at me. It was the first time she had really established eye contact with me since I had shot my wad in her mouth. “She…she’ll be home really soon. You’d better get out of here!”

“Get out of here?” I replied in mock consternation. “Why, Megan, the party hasn’t even begun. The real party’s when your mom gets here.”

No!” she cried. “Don’t hurt my mom!”

I smiled. “Megan, I’m going to treat you mom the same way I’m treating you. If she’s good, everything will be alright.”

“No! Don’t do this to my mother!” She became hysterical.


*******

Sandra McFarland’s SUV rolled into the garage at 6:15 pm. She strode from the garage into the kitchen in a workout outfit: white cross training shoes, black, tight leotards and a bulky grey sweatshirt two sizes too big for her. She called out for her daughter: “Megan? Are you home, hon?” From my hiding spot I watched her as she checked the microwave. She pressed some buttons and the microwave hummed into action. “Megan?”

I watched as Sandra thumbed through the day’s mail, throwing all but a single envelop into the trash. “Megan? Where are you, babe?”

She put her purse and gym bag on the dinning room table and walked to the foot of the stairs leading up. She saw that the light was on in the upstairs hall. I quickly went to her purse and removed her cell phone, and hid it in my bag of tricks. Earlier in the day I had removed all the internal house phone cords.

“Megan!” she yelled, looking up the stairs.

“Hello, Sandra,” I said. The woman whirled around. At first she might have thought I was a friend of her daughter’s, but she quickly saw I was too old for that. “Who are YOU!?” When I didn’t answer, she said “Where’s my daughter!?”

I shrugged. “The answer to your first question is not important right now. The answer to your second question is: your daughter’s upstairs. She’s waiting for you.”

The woman looked at me dumbly. Slowly, something dawned on her. “Megan?” she cried out, but her voice cracked. Stumbling on weak knees, the woman ran up the stairs two at a time. I quickly followed her, and watched as she ran into Megan’s room. Finding it empty, she ran down the hallway to the master bedroom. As I came after her, the woman had stopped in the doorway of the master bedroom, frozen at the sight she saw.

Her precious teenage daughter’s totally nude body lay on the far side of the large, king size bed. The girl’s arms were above her head, her wrists handcuffed to the horizontal bed head rail. Her ankles were cuffed together, and a round ball gag was stuffed in her mouth, the kind that was used on Bruce Wilson and Ving Rhames in Pulp Fiction.

After a speechless moment, the mother cried out “Megan!” her voice cracking. “Oh, baby! My baby!” She ran to the far side of the bed. Megan looked up at her mother with wide, scared eyes. She mumbled something through the ball gag.

Once she got to the bedside, it was suddenly as if Sandra didn’t know what to do. She clasped her hands together close to her chest, her body shaking uncontrollably. She looked up to see me in the doorway. “You bastard!” she cried. “Have you hurt my baby?!” She lay down beside the girl, as if covering her naked body from my view. She reached for the girl’s wrists that lay stretched above her head, but saw that she was powerless to do anything about the handcuffs that held those wrists firmly to the bed rail.

Sandra pulled the gag from her daughter’s mouth. “Baby, oh my baby, are you okay?” she managed to ask between sobs. The girl did not reply, she only cried softly as her mother hugged her.

The mother then sat up on the bed and again looked at me. An expression of rage and pure, unadulterated hatred rolled across her face like a dark cloud. “What have you done to my daughter?” she demanded.

“She’s still technically a virgin, if that’s what you mean. She does a pretty good blow job, though.” The woman starred at me, speechless. “You’ve done a great job of parenting, Sandra,” I continued. “I mean, let’s face it, there aren’t too many sixteen-year-old virgins out there these days. At least, she says she’s a virgin. I did a gyno exam on her and couldn’t really tell, but then I’m no doctor.”

“Get out of here!” the woman finally commanded, her voice firm.

“Sandra. Come on, we’ve been waiting for you to join the party.”

The woman quickly reached for the bedside telephone. I watched her, a smile on my lips, as she discovered the phone line was dead. She slowly put the phone down and stood. She looked at me like a cornered cat would look at the thing that had cornered it, and I could see the realization dawning on her that she had make a tactical blunder by running into a dead end alley. Instead of hurrying up the stairs and into her bedroom at the first sense of concern for her daughter, she should have attempted an escape from the house while still downstairs. Her instinctive concern for her little girl had simply been too strong, and she hadn’t thought the situation through. And now, Sandra McFarland knew that she was suddenly in a world of trouble.

“Look,” she said calmly, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you can’t get away with this. So why don’t you just go on and get out of her right now? Just go. I won’t even call the police, just get out of here and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

As she was saying this, I walked over to a heavy easy chair that was near the door and moved it over to the door, effectively barricading it. This way I could leave the woman loose in the room, and if she made a run to get out, whatever I was doing I could easily catch her before she managed to move the heavy barricade sufficiently to get through the door.

“I would hate to leave now,” I said as I finished my task. “Before our little party has even started?”

The woman glared at me. If looks could kill, my blood would already have been soaking the bedroom carpet. “A party!” she spat. “Over my dead body!” She then reached for a sheet and pulled it over her daughter, covering the girl’s nakedness.

“Mommy?!” the girl cried.

“That’s okay, baby. Everything’s going to be okay,” Sandra said calmly, but her voice was shaky now. I watched her as her eyes searched the room for a weapon but, unfortunately for her, the interior decorator had apparently not allowed for a hidden gun cache.

I walked toward where the mother stood beside the bed and her prone daughter. I as moved close, the woman attacked me, swinging and kicking violently. This was where I was going to find out if this bitch was a black belt or something. I blocked her blows with little effort and landed a solid punch in her stomach. She went down like a ton of bricks, writhing on the floor at my feet, the wind gone from her lungs. So much for my concern regarding her martial arts training. From the bed, young Megan screamed. This was the first loud utterance she had been able to make since I had stuck the ball gag in her beautiful mouth maybe a half hour earlier.

Sandra lay on the carpeted floor gasping for air. I lay down on top of her. My hands raced under her oversized sweatshirt and groped her breasts through her snug sports bra. I remembered how beautiful she had looked that first moment I had seen her in the mall. How classy and elegant she had been. Here she was now, on the floor of her bedroom, with my eager hands feeling that beauty, that classiness, that elegance.

As Sandra struggled to regain her breathing, I nuzzled her neck, drinking in her scent, her essence. From the bed I could hear Megan sobbing.

The woman squirmed desperately beneath my weight. She got an arm free from my grasp and swung at my face, but it was a weak attempt that did not land. I allowed her to struggle, wanting her to wear herself out. Finally I put my entire weight upon her, effectively pinning her to the carpeted floor; however, the bitch sank her teeth into my forearm. I cursed in pain, and then slapped her solidly in the face with the hand of my other arm, causing her jaws to go limp and allowing me to yank my forearm away from her fucking teeth.

I then elbowed her hard in her stomach, knocking newly regained air out of her lungs and leaving her a helpless mass of flesh beneath my weight.

“You fucking bitch!” I hissed at her, my mouth close to her ear. “Listen up, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck the shit out of you and your little girl do you understand me?” She grimaced in pain beneath me as my hands ravaged her body beneath her clothes. I fisted her hair and pulled the back of her head toward her shoulders. This pushed her chin up and left her bare neck exposed to my other hand. The fingers of my other hand encircled her neck. “Do you hear me, honey? I would have fucked little Megan already, but I wanted you to have the honor of watching me do it! Anyway, if you two behave real well, I promise I won’t hurt either of you too badly. Do you understand?”

From the bed I could her Megan’s sobs. Still gasping and cringing in pain, Sandra was slowly regaining the ability to speak. As my weight lay upon her, pinning her to the floor, she gasped, “Okay, okay, look” she gasped. “Do what you want to do with me, but please, don’t touch my daughter. I beg you.” She said this almost whispering in my ear, quietly, so her daughter would not hear.

“Yeah?” I said, kissing her eyes, tasting the saltiness of the tears that had formed there.

“Yes,” she whispered, still gasping for air. “I’ll do whatever you want, just leave my little girl alone. She’s only sixteen for god’s sake!”

“Will you suck my cock?” I whispered back to her.

There was a pause. Breathing deeply, her pulse rushing, her face flushed red, the woman winced visibly. “Yes! Anything. Just leave her alone. Please. Oh, for the love of god, please!!”

“Will you spread your legs for me like a whore?”

Sandra’s face contorted in a tight grimace. My hand squeezed her breast hard through the sports bra. “Yes.” Her voice was a whimper.

“Yes what? Say it,” I whispered to her as my tongue licked her ear, penetrating her ear as far as it could. “Say ‘I’ll be your whore’”. My hand squeezed her tit hard through the sports bra.

Her face still in its tight grimace, she repeated after me in a hoarse whisper, “I’ll be your whore”.

As I continued to pin her to the floor with my body and my left arm, my right hand forced its way underneath the sports bra and took possession of the soft flesh of her breast. Totally, one hundred percent natural tit. No silicone here. What one saw—and felt—was what one got.

“But not in front of her,” the woman gasped as my hand roughly massaged her tit and pinched her nipple. “Take me to another room. Please. I’m begging you for the love of god. I’ll give you anything you want, but not in front of my little girl!” With that she began to cry, tears streaming down her cheeks.

My hand left her tit and roamed down her flat stomach, and then worked its way under the waist band of the lycra leotards. As she squirmed beneath me, my fingers quickly found her womanhood. I kissed her neck as my index finger deftly entered her pussy. My knee was planted firmly between her legs, preventing her from closing them and denying this assault upon her sex.

“Okay,” I whispered, my face pressed against hers. “We’ve got a deal. You be a good girl and fuck me real good, I don’t touch your daughter. I mean, you fuck me back like I’m your goddamned boyfriend or something, and your little girl gets to keep her virginity. Okay?”