Chapter Three
The Morning After Valentine's Day
I awoke as if nothing changed during sleep. Jill's adorable raven hair head remained against my chest. However something felt different.
"It's hard," she said, looking up at me with a look of wonder and excitement.
"It does that in the morning. It's called morning wood or a piss hard on. It keeps me from pissing the bed."
She pouted cutely and continued rubbing my erection. "I hoped you dreamed of me in your naughty little mind."
"If I did, I don't remember. But reality's better anyway," I smiled, pulling her up by her butt, feeling heat and humidity between those cheeks, sliding the middle finger into slipperiness, bringing her face to mine for a kiss.
If she had morning breath I didn't notice, and she didn't seem to either as we lingered on the kiss, stoking our desires. Tongues came happily out to play. She slid on top of me. I felt my cock tip press against my finger. Another of my fingers added to the first to surround the tip and guide it in to heaven.
Only then did our lips part. She had to lower her body to let my cock penetrate her very ready pussy.
"Oh Joe," she murmured, her eyes wide. "You open me up so much. It's so intense."
Lifting her body brought a wider angle at our conjunction, about forty-five degrees, as her strong thighs held her and let her lower her pussy before lifting again. The angle also provided a view of her amazing tits dangling from her muscled torso so that the tips barely grazed my chest as she shifted. I wanted more contact with them. I had a hand still enjoying her fine ass and the slick movement of my cock sliding inwards and outwards clutched by her labia. The other hand soon busied itself fondling her tits.
"Mmm," she moaned, her nipples once again revealed as intensely sensitive. The pleasure seemed to lessen the carefulness of filling her small sex with my big sex. Seconds later I was completely embedded, again with my tip resting against her cervix. We played, muscles tightening and loosening causing pleasant sensations deep within her for both of us.
"Joe?"
"Hmm?" I responded, opening eyes I hadn't even realized I'd closed, concentrating solely on the feelings our genitalia created. Her face looked taut with emotion.
"I was raped Joe, several times," she said, quietly, without emotional nuance, but I could see her dark eyes pool. I didn't know what to say, but I must have started saying something because her petite finger pressed on my mouth. "Sshh. Let me talk. I have to do this."
Her hips began to lift and fall in a shallow and gentle fuck. She kept it up throughout, keeping me hard when what she said made me more apt to soften. Even more successfully, her Kegel muscle play rippled around me on occasion, seemingly the perfect moments when even her strokes weren't effective.
"I so wanted to be a gymnast," she continued. "I had the body for it, strong and small. I thought I had friends sharing my desire. They did, but with an obsessive competitiveness that worked against sharing. I couldn't help that I was better than them.
"They took their revenge. It was sort of a training camp. In order to create the perfection needed to compete in the Olympics, it needed to be year long.
"I shared a room with a girl. I thought she'd become my best friend even if she and I didn't have all that much in common except gymnastics of course. I hate to say it of others, but she had a dim mind, and I guess I've always been bright. She tended towards gossip, a spiteful and narrow minded habit I could never embrace, more concerned with the bigger picture I guess. But I tried being her friend and she seemed to accept me.
"Anyway, one of her favorite topics of conversations was an older boy. Of course he was ripped and gorgeous so I couldn't help agreeing about his cuteness and a desire to mate with him so to speak.
"He was a cocksure asshole which I guess attracts us girls, and it did me then. He also liked hovering around the girls, even playing at coaching us.
"After one day training he managed to meet me alone. He said he wanted to talk to me alone about a problem I had or something so I let him into my room.
"Suddenly he was on me ripping away my shorts and shirt. I was strong but he was much stronger. Soon enough he sank he was raping me. It hurt of course, tearing away my hymen, but he was actually pretty small, so I guess it could have been worse.
"Once he came, he growled at me. 'You think you're better than the rest of us.' I told him I didn't think anything of the kind. 'Bullshit,' he said. 'Scouts come and all they see is you and your prissy little body and your showoffy moves. No more of that or you get more of this. And not a word to anyone or you'll be the one tossed out, not me. You'll be labeled a whore.' And he dressed and left.
"Seconds later my roommate saw me sobbing. Instead of comforting me she called me a frigid stuck up bitch not even appreciating a good fuck by a cute stud. That got me even more freaked out.
"Next time he raped me, I came into the room with him fucking my roommate. I thought he was raping her too. Turns out I was wrong. When I tried throwing him off her, he did get off her mid fuck, his puny cock glistening with her obvious excited lubricant, and I found myself once more on my back getting raped, this time with my roommate helping. They even had me turn around...like I am now with you, and as if I was the one in control my roommate lifted me and dropped me onto his cock. It chafed until I fucking lubricated, and then it only hurt my heart.
"I know I should have just quit, but my foolish young heart wanted to be a competitive gymnast and my mom really wanted it too, so I stayed. And got raped some more. I did learn to masturbate then, to at least not have it hurt so much.
"When the training finally ended, it seemed like forever, I told my mom I wanted private training. I think she could tell how distraught I was, and she agreed. Our family's fairly well off, but it was a burden.
"Anyway, I grew these," she smirked, sadness still evident, grabbing her breasts. "So dreams of Olympic championships faded along with dreams of becoming a prima ballerina. For some reason I wanted to be both. And I disappeared into books.
"It didn't end there, though. I did well in high school, taking classes at the nearby university when only in my junior year. There I found another rapist. Not physical, but mental. I think if it had been physical, that is if I had seduced him or something, he might never have gotten in my face. I think his anger came from his fear of succumbing to his lust for young flesh.
