About the Author

Although this story is autobiographical and based on fact, the owners of LITEROTICA.COM have guidelines that proclaim that sex is not allowed among minors. I find this strange, with regard to fictitious characters; and stranger still with regard to real-life biographies. After all, most people are well aware of the age at which they became sexually active, and very few people consciously waited until their 18th birthday. Still, if the site owners insist that I was a virgin until then, well, it must be true. Therefore, I've "corrected" the age references in the following story to comply with the guidelines set forth.

I hope it still makes sense.

* * * * *

I began writing down fantasies in my very-late teens. Written out in longhand, they were kinky, and private, and needed to be hidden in a false bottom I'd constructed in my underwear drawer. I was absolutely certain that I was the only one in the world who had such naughty fantasies, and I knew one thing for sure—no one would EVER be allowed to read about those fantasies.

I'd first heard of anal sex when I was 18. I mean, I'm sure I'd heard of it before then, but only with regard to homosexual sex—you know, about what gay guys do to each other, or about what takes place in prison. I swear, until 12th grade, I was utterly unaware that anal sex was something that happened to girls.

Then one day my best friend, a full two years older and wiser than me, had a new story about what boys liked to do with college girls. I'd already heard from her endless stories about kissing, and fondling, and how big boys thingy's would get when they were in the back seat with a girl like her. I'd knew from her how desperately bad boys wanted to put it in you "down there"; but that if you weren't ready, you could sometimes get them to settle for a hand-job. But unless you were really good with your hands, they might make you take it

in your mouth! And spurt white goo there! And make you swallow it! That, of course, was the worst thing that could happen to a girl. Except being made to go "all the way", which was worse—and painful—especially if you were a virgin like Heather. Or like me.

Anyway, one day during a sleep-over, our usual pillow talk commenced, with special emphasis on a new boy she'd went to the drive-in with the night before. A real bad-boy. A total octopus. Practically ripped all her clothes off while she giggled and fought half-heartedly against him. And THIS guy, a senior in college, no less, wasn't gonna settle for a hand-job. But when it came time to blow him and get it over with, there was a problem: It wouldn't fit! His pecker was too big! Her mouth was too small. She tried to open wide enough, but simply couldn't! It wasn't her fault!

I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, imagining the size of the huge, throbbing, menace.

Her futile attempts to swallow him aroused him further, and she used her hands, her tongue, her lips. But he hissed something about needing to be inside her and pushed her down on the plush velour back seat of his daddy's brand new Lincoln.

"NO!" she screamed, as he quickly maneuvered between her thighs; between her forest; between her sopping slit. "I'm a virgin!" He didn't care. But then she had the presence of mind to mention something he DID care about. "OK, fine, but I'm gonna bleed all over these nice new seats." He stopped, his dickhead literally throbbing against her virginal pussy lips. "Go ahead! C'mon, I dare you!"

My heart was beating so madly as I vicariously lived through my friend's ordeal. "You DIDN'T say that! Did you? Did you really? What did he do? Oh my god, tell me!!!!!"

"Well, we stared right into each others eyes, for what must have been a full minute. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath, but I was. And when he pulled away, I exhaled, relieved that I'd saved my virginity once more. And just when I was about to feel bad for him, he pushed my legs upward, up to my shoulders. And suddenly, I felt him pushing against me again, only this time, back there!"

"Back where?"

"You know, back there!"

"Back at your pussy?"

"No, silly, my ass!"

"He wanted to rub it in your butt crack?" I giggled. It seemed weird that he would want to do that. But boys were after all, weird. Heather had warned me before that because of the size of my bosom (biggest in the whole 12th grade!), boys would want to rub themselves between my boobs. Can you imagine?

"No, not my butt crack! My butt HOLE! He began to shove it in my buttHOLE. And it hurt sooooo bad and I started to scream..."

"Wait, stop. What do you mean your butt hole? He wanted to rub it against your butt hole?"

"IN. He wanted to put it IN my butt hole. And so I started to scream..."

"In."

"Yes."

"He wanted to put it IN your butt hole."

"Yes."

"His thingy. His penis."

"Yes."

"In your butthole."

"Yes."

"But, but, he can't. I mean, it's too big, right? You said it was too big to fit in your mouth."

"Well, the difference is that he couldn't just force it into my mouth, cuz it would have scraped against my teeth, and hurt him. See, when guys get horny, they might not care about US, but they still care about themselves.

"So your saying he actually tried to force it into your little asshole? Boys are so stupid. What did he do when he realized?"

"When he realized what?"

"You know, that it wasn't going to fit."

"Oh my God, Misty! That's exactly what I tried to say to him. I remember clearly that I was screaming those exact words into his hand. 'IT'S NOT GOING TO FIT!' But then, his eyes closed; mine bulged. And he pushed. Hard. And the head popped in!"

"It did? Oh my God, Heather, what did you do?"

"What could I do? I was folded in half and all his weight was on me. His hand held my mouth so tight I realized I couldn't even breath good. And I think you know what he did next, don't you?"

"He took it out, right? He must have taken it out. He realized he was hurting you, and that it was wrong and so he took it out!" Heather reached over and wiped my eyes with a tissue. This was very upsetting news to a 18 year old girl! The idea that some boy could just come a long and force his big thingy up your rear!

No, she was shaking her head. "He didn't take it out."

"He, he ra-rape-raped you?" That was not the first time I'd heard that word, but it was the first time I'd ever said it. Rape was something for the newspapers; the history books. Movies and TV shows. (I always made a point to watch any drama with the word "rape" in the description---still do.) But rape was NOT something that happened in our small town. NOT something that happened to any of MY friends.

And, judging from Heather's reaction, it was not something that was any big deal. "Well, yeah, I guess so. But geeesh, if it wasn't for rape, some girl's would NEVER give it up!". OK, fine. So rape was normal. Common. Rape rape rape. Big fat hairy deal. These things happen. Fine. But up the butt? My underdeveloped teenage brain was hurting from trying to understand that.

I tried to press her for more info. How did it feel when he pushed in farther? Did he force it in all the way? Did it hurt? A lot? She answered those questions with one-word answers, and didn't volunteer any extra info. She knew she'd already rocked my world, and didn't want to overwhelm me further. And she was tired. But not me. One final question before she clammed up entirely. "Well, THAT must have messed up his dad's car seat, right?"

"No."

"I mean, he didn't take your cherry, cuz he didn't want to get blood-stains on the car seat, right?"

"Oh yeah. Well, surprisingly, my ass didn't bleed at all."

"OK, but what about, you know, other stains?"

"What other stains?"

"You know, other, ah, crap?"

"Nope. Came out squeaky-clean."

"It did?"

"Yes. Now go to sleep. We'll talk about it more tomorrow, if you want, OK?"

"OK" ...but I could not sleep. My mind was exploding, suffering a complete meltdown as I tried to come to grips with the concept of anal rape. Glancing over at Heather, it was clear that she'd already made peace with the idea. Her lovely face showed no evidence of trauma as she drifted blissfully to dreamland. I knew my dreams, on the other hand, would be filled with boys chasing me, trying to force their big, nasty thingy's in my heinie. Feeling just a bit queasy, I padded over to the bathroom and shut and locked the door.

By standing on the edge of the tub, I could see my bum in the vanity mirror. Spreading the cheeks apart and looking back over my shoulder, my suspicions were confirmed: the hole between them was tiny. TINY! I pressed my index finger against it, knowing this was not a fair test. ANY boy's pecker would be fatter and longer than my finger. I pushed, and it didn't hurt---yet. I vowed that even when it did start to hurt, I'd keep pushing and not stop until it was all the way in. But actually, pain never came. Discomfort? Oh yeah. But not pain. I wriggled it to see if I could make it hurt. Gawd, what an unnatural feeling! And now for the mess test: Maneuvering directly over the toilet, I yanked the finger out. Finally, a stab of pain shot up my spine as the tight muscle clung tightly to my finger. The shocking pain disappeared so fast that I didn't have time to analyze its severity. But my reaction was rather strange. I laughed, out loud, quickly clamping my free hand over my mouth so as not to wake Heather in the next room.

Strange reaction. And I knew I was gonna have to do it again. But first I examined my finger carefully in the bright light of the vanity mirror. Squeaky clean. I smiled, almost laughing again. Looking at my face in the mirror, I opened my mouth wide, as wide as I could. I knew that Heather and I had about the same size mouth. We'd kissed once, on a dare (but that's another story). I noted the difference in circumference between the oval ring of my lips and my finger. Carefully, I inserted my finger into my mouth, making sure not to touch my lips, teeth, cheeks or tongue. It was easy. Too easy. I needed something bigger.

The toothbrush handle was longer, but not bigger around. The handle of the plunger was a little bigger around, and a lot longer. Maybe. Hmmm. The shampoo bottle was too big. But wait! Too big was the idea, wasn't it? Too big was exactly what I was searching for. Too big, just like a boy's thingy would be, if he tried to shove it up my virgin ass. I held the bottle to my lips, opening wide and trying to push it into my mouth. It was definitely too big, but not by much. If I could just open a little wider, I thought, pushing it hard from the bottom. Suddenly, the plastic gave way, collapsing slightly, my upper teeth grazing along it as it rushed into my shocked mouth. My lips sealed tightly around the softer middle section of the bottle, and as my tight mouth squeezed snuggly around it, the pressure caused the top to pop open and white fluid squirted into my mouth and throat! Instantly, I pulled the phallus/bottle back out, and the vacuum created by my taut lips sucked more of the vicious fluid onto my tongue. Ewwwwwwww!

RINSE; SPIT. RINSE; SPIT. RINSE; SPIT. RINSE; SPIT. COUGH. COUGH-COUGH-COUGH. SPIT. RINSE; SPIT. FINGER-DOWN-THROAT. GAG. SPIT. COUGH. SPIT. RINSE; SPIT. RINSE; SPIT. RINSE, GARGLE, SPIT. BRUSH TEETH; SPIT. Vow to NEVER, NEVER EVER give a blow job to a shampoo bottle ever again. But, butt...

...it WAS the size I was looking for. I flipped the top closed, worked the dents out of the plastic, and placed it on the edge of the tub, straddling it with my naked ass.

The ridges around the top were uncomfortable as they went in, but not much bigger around than my finger had been. Then the plastic flared out wide, as wide as any boys cock, I was certain of it. I took more and more weight off my legs, putting more and more pressure on my anal ring. Soon, my body would rip wide open and swallow the fake prick. It would hurt. Badly. I took more weight off my legs, and could feel my muscles open slightly as the hole dented in around the cold bottle...

Cold. Why did it feel so cold? Weren't boys penises hot? Maybe that was the problem. I stood up and ran hot water on the bottle for a few minutes, so that even the fluid inside was hot. I held it to my cheek to test the temperature. Hot. Very hot. But not scalding.

I resumed my position. This time the visitor was more pleasant, and hopefully more welcome. All of my weight was now centered over "him", except what I needed for balance as I straddled the hot shampoo bottle perched precariously on the edge of the tub. My tiny sphincter dented inward painfully as the blood was squeezed out of the muscle. But it wouldn't go in! Heather MUST be lying! Boys big thingy's just weren't meant to fit in girl's tiny little backside holes! In one final attempt, just to prove it wouldn't work, I grabbed the shower curtain for balance, and lifted my feet entirely off the floor. My hole crept just slightly lower down the phallus, and POP! Suddenly my bowels were filled with hot, white liquid, rivets of the creamy fluid rolling down the side of the bottle and onto the edge of the tub. "He's coming! Coming inside of me!" I closed my eyes and lowered one hand to my little pleasure button as waves of euphoria washed over me.

Convulsions of pleasure overtook my entire body. My anus clenched and released around the top of the bottle—which still supported the weight of my body. This muscular activity allowed the hot, greasy liquid to work itself between the bottle and the soft pink flesh of my dumb teenaged ass. "Lubrication." My mind whispered, discovering the missing ingredient just one split-second before my ass slammed down all the way to the base of the hot bottle. The rings of the shower curtain snapped and my feet flew up into the air. I tipped backward, balancing for a moment flat on my back on the edge of the tub. In what must have been slow-motion, I rolled to my left, falling into the tub face down, a shampoo bottle buried oh-so-deeply between the cheeks of my ass. Convulsions from my completely ruined orgasm still squeezed at the bottle, only now the muscle worked at the base, causing hot, white fluid to pump into my traumatized rectum with each throbbing spasm.

All of this happened in the course of just a few seconds. Within the time span of a single outgoing breath. And as I took in my next breath, the agony, the horror, the humiliation, the fear were just now reaching my brain, knocking loudly, demanding entry, and utterly vaporizing the pure pleasure which had occupied the same space moments ago.

Agony was the first sensation to hit me. I couldn't stop the gut-wrenching scream, but I managed to delay it for a split second, long enough to cover my mouth tightly with both hands. The noise that escaped my nose wasn't loud enough to wake Heather—fortunately she's a sound sleeper. But it also wasn't enough to satisfy my need to scream. So I took another deep breath, and screamed again, again through my nose, with my hands gripping tightly to my mouth. And again. And one more time. Then it occurred to me that if I could just stop screaming for a damn minute, I could reach back and try to dislodge the evil, raping, spurting shampoo bottle.

Holding my breath, I reached back to find that the nasty, satanic bottle was nearly through with me. It was already sliding back out on its own, and with only a bit of guidance from my fingertips, it fell away from my tender, abused hole.

I reached up from where I lay, and turned on the water, flipping the shower valve up. While the water washed over me, I managed to sit up, then stand. Turning away from the water, I spread my young buttocks oh-so-gently, letting the soothing water roll down the crack. I stayed that way till the water ran cold, then ice-cold. Even then it felt good, but eventually, I got out and dried off.

Heather was sleeping as soundly as when I'd left the room an hour before. And I was exhausted from my ordeal, but I needed to talk some more. "So, are you ever gonna see him again? Heather? HEATHER! Are you ever gonna see him again?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I? Go to sleep, Misty."

"When. When are you gonna see him again?"

"He's giving me a ride home from school tomorrow."

"Can I ride too? I hate taking the bus."

"If he doesn't mind the extra miles out of the way, I guess."

I dressed very carefully for school the next day. Wonder bra. Zip up blouse, zipped up for school, down for showing cleavage. Pink thong panties. A skirt that was long enough for the dress code, but slit so that I could show lotsa leg if I wanted. I made sure my hair was purfect, and put on some makeup, too. Heather didn't notice any of this, she was running late, as always.

After school, I walked past the busses, over to the college parking lot. Way out to the back corner where the white Lincoln was idling. "You gotta give Misty a ride home too, OK?"

"Whatever" shrugged the smiling sadist.

During the short drive to Heather's house, I listened quietly while they made plans for later that evening. And he smiled politely while I told him where my house was---fully another 10 miles toward nowhere. They couldn't even kiss in Heather's driveway, cuz her little brother was home looking out the window, and that little rug-rat told the parental-units everything. "I'll make it up to you later" she promised, pushing away from his pawing hands while I got out and held the door. He was visibly horny. Huge tent in his jeans. And she was leaving him all frustrated. This was good. "Bye Bye Misty. See ya at school tomorrow" she called back as she trotted toward the house. Just as I was getting into the car, I casually dropped the zipper of my blouse a good 3", and made sure the slit of the skirt showed all of my left leg as I sat and pulled the shoulder belt between my breasts, emphasizing them as best I could.

Don't get me wrong. I love Heather. I'd never try to steal a boyfriend from her. Not that I'd ever have a chance to. She was two years older, and oh-so-gorgeous. But this wasn't about that. I didn't want her nasty old boyfriend. I just wanted his cock.

The landscape got sparse as we drove toward my house wayyy out in the middle of nowhere.

"So, what did you and Heather do on your last date?"

"Went to the drive in."

I glanced at the big back seat. "I see. Did ya kiss her?"

"Yes" he slowly replied, adding an it's-none-of-your-beezwax sigh. But I persisted.

"What else did ya do?"

"I'm sure if she wants you to know, she'll tell you."

"Maybe she already did tell me."

"I doubt it."

"You underestimate how close we are. She tells me everything."

" Prove it. Tell me something only she would know."

"She said you were an octopus. Couldn't keep your hands off of her."

"Big deal. Lotsa girls at school have found that out about me."

"She said you wanted her to, you know, suck you."

"Well, DUH! EVERY guy wants that!"

"Yes, but you were too big, and she couldn't get it in her mouth." Now I had his attention. For the first time, he looked over at me. Quickly, he realized that she HAD told me everything. Suddenly, this was more than idle conversation.

He tried to stay nonchalant "So, what did she tell you happened then."

At the nonchalant game, I could win. "Well, after you tried to rape her in the mouth, you were gonna rape her in the pussy, but you didn't want her to bleed on your dad's new seats, so instead you raped her in the ass." He actually winced at the word "rape". Didn't seem to like it at all. But I thought it was cool. "Yep, said you covered her mouth so she couldn't scream while you were raping her. Then you raped her with your big dick right up her tight little asshole."

"Yeah, yeah? Well, if I raped her, why is she going out with me again tonight? Hmmmm?"

"Oh, she's not pissed about it or anything. In fact, I think she's looking forward to you doing it again."