Cornfields 1

Some people say it was our own fault, as we shouldn't have been hitchhiking. Screw that, is my opinion. We were doing nothing illegal, and hitchhiking is not really dangerous if you're doing it with company and are choosy about the lifts you take.

What happened could have happened anywhere, no matter what we were doing. What happened was this. Sally and I, I'm Michelle, by the way, were hitching through Kansas. We were careful about what lifts we accepted, always picking a ride where the driver was a woman or accompanied by a woman. Elderly people were best.

Hitching out of this little town, a farmer and his wife stopped and offered us a ride. They weren't going all the way to the next big town, but they said they would drop us off at the turn-off to their farm. We'd be on the main highway and only about five miles short of the next town. That was OK by us. We could walk five miles to the next town dead easy. We were both quite fit.

You may want a little information about us before I continue with the story. It's always nice to know something about the people talking to you.

Sally is blonde, twenty and what the boys call whistle bait. On this particular day she was wearing a flirty skirt and a t-shirt.

Me, I'm twenty-one, blonde, but darker that Sally, and I've had my share of whistles. I was wearing lime green shorts and a yellow tank top. And please note I said shorts, not hot pants or daisy dukes. They were just plain, every-day, walking shorts.

Virgins? I said we were twenty and twenty one, respectively. You work it out.

Anyway, as I was saying this farmer offered us a ride, we accepted and hopped in and the farmer took off. Well, in that old car of his it's probably more accurate to say that the farmer eased onto the road and chugged slowly away.

Eventually the farmer reached his turn-off and stopped to let us out. It was just under five miles to the centre of town, he told us, but if we wanted to wait, there was a bus along every couple of hours. Just wave to the driver from the crossroad and he'd stop and pick us up.

The farmer drove off, leaving me and Sally surrounded by what looked like miles and miles of corn. Those fields seemed to stretch forever. Sally and I looked at each other. Did we stay in the cornfields and wait for a bus, or did we try our luck hitching while we hiked towards the town.

We thought that if it was only five miles, we could probably walk to town before a bus actually rolled up, even if we didn't get a lift. We put on our backpacks and set off.

It turned out that there was very little traffic along the highway that day. We must have gone about a mile before any cars overtook us, and that was just a beat up old bomb with a couple of young men in it. They whistled, slowed and offered us a lift, but we just smiled and politely declined. They were just the sort of lift we didn't take.

The boys seemed to take it in good spirits and took off. For a beat up old bomb, it had a nice engine in it. They vanished into the distance and we hiked on through the cornfields. We must have gone about another mile before we even heard another car, and that one was coming from the wrong direction, heading out of town and towards us.

It turned out to be the two men in the old bomb. They whistled as they passed and headed on to wherever they were going. Then we heard a squeal of brakes. Looking around, the boys were doing an U turn and heading back towards us.

Pulling up next to us they again offered us a lift, and again we turned them down. That's when things got a little nasty. They hopped out of the car and came over to us.

"Listen, sweetheart," the bigger of the two men said to me. "It upsets us to see a couple of likely young ladies like you hoofing it all the way to town. Now why don't the pair of you hop in the car. We can all have a good time and we'll drop you in town afterwards."

"No thank you," I said, trying to remain polite. "We prefer to walk. Don't let us keep you."

"I don't think you fully appreciate the reality of the situation," he said. "We weren't offering. We were telling. Now get in the car. We're in the mood for some fun and you're it."

I glanced up and down the road. Nothing there and no use running either way. These two apes would catch us in nothing flat. A quick glance at the cornfields offer more hope. We could scoot into them and play hide and seek between the rows. The damn plants were tall enough to hide us. They'd have to be in the same row to spot us at all, and with a bit of luck we could actually hide between the rows, shielded by the corn.

I glanced and Sally and mouthed the word run, nodding towards the fields. As one, we dropped our backpacks and darted into the fields. There was a yell of anger from the big man and then the pair of them were after us.

Sally and I might be small, but that didn't mean we were slow. We were several rows deep in nothing flat and then we split up, to make it harder for them. I was able to dodge behind corn plants and freeze whenever I heard one of them nearby, and I assumed from the silence that Sally was doing the same.

For a good ten minutes we avoided them, and I think they must have been just about ready to give up when Sally slipped up. I was standing still, covered by a couple of plants when I saw Sally creeping quietly along the row in front of me, ready to dive through the plant at any alarm.

She'd just passed me, and I was about to call quietly to her to join me, when the big man stepped from between two corn plants, right behind her. Before Sally even knew he was there he'd reached up her skirt and jerked her panties down.

With her panties suddenly around her ankles, Sally naturally tripped and went sprawling on her hands and knees. Before she could do anything the bastard had knelt behind her, flicked her skirt up so her bottom and pussy were exposed and was busy stuffing his cock into her pussy while Sally squealed in protest.

It didn't help her much, as he couldn't care less about what she thought of what was happening. He had made his catch and now he was taking it. My immediate thought, shameful though it was, was that sooner her than me, and wasn't she lucky that dick head had a small dick.

He did you know. I always thought dicks came in three sizes, small, medium and big. This bloke deserved a new category, extra small. Not that that helped Sally at all. She didn't want his cock up her no matter what the size. She was wriggling and trying to get loose and I was about to step out behind them and kick him in the testicles, which were on display and an easy target.

But as I stepped forth, my foot hooked on something, and instead of coming up behind him I fell sprawled between the two rows of corn. That's when I realised that what my foot had caught on had been the second man's foot, and he was busy hauling down my shorts and panties.

He managed to break the buttons on my shorts and they went sliding down my legs, with my panties keeping them company. Naturally, I was squawking and wriggling, and the man who was getting involved with Sally turned around, saw me, realised what was happening and laughed at me.

I could see that he'd managed to stick Sally, and was now pushing up her t-shirt and bra and grabbing at her breasts. The trouble was, while he was doing that, the man behind me was doing something similar. He hadn't tried to prong me yet, but my tank top and bra were now around my neck, and I was naked from neck to knee.

Next thing I know, two hands have clamped onto my boobs, and for some reason, Bozo was pushing his leg up against my pussy, rubbing his knee back and forth across it. You can imagine the shock I got when it suddenly dawned on me that it wasn't his knee but the head of his fucking cock, and my fucking pussy was his target. I could actually see the damn thing, but my pussy was telling me it was an Olympic class record breaker and could I choose a smaller one.

Now at this point I could see Sally's beau bumping happily against her while she squealed and wriggled and cursed him. He was having a fine time, even if she wasn't. But it all seemed curiously distant to me. My immediate attention was on Bozo and his horse's equipment and what it was trying to do to me.

Because he was holding both my breasts, Bozo didn't have a free hand, so he was just banging and rubbing his cock against my pussy, trying to find an entrance by touch. I was wriggling and squealing, not wanting to get further acquainted with him, but I suspect that it was my wriggling that helped him. He suddenly seemed to get my lips slightly apart, and that was all he needed.

Feeling that thing barging in I just froze. He took this for encouragement, apparently, and started pushing in deeper. I could feel myself being stretched, way beyond anything I'd ever felt before, and he kept on sinking in. Quite frankly, I'd rather try to sit on a fire hydrant than have that thing attack me again. The fire hydrant would have to be smaller.

After what seemed like an hour or so of him pushing and me stretching further and further, he gave a satisfied grunt and squeezed my breasts. Seeing he was no longer ramming deeper I assumed that, to my amazement, he had actually managed to slide his cock fully into me without ripping me in half.

Mind you, I definitely knew he was there. My whole attention was on Bozo and his womanizing machine. I was silent now, just waiting to see what was going to happen. That doesn't mean that it was all quiet. I could still hear Sally sounding off and as she got thoroughly bonked, or as thoroughly as you could be bonked with a little cock like that.

Then Bozo got to work. I could feel him sliding along inside me, and every nerve I possessed sat up and took notice. How could they not? His cock was probably pressed against each and every one of them. Then he changed direction and was sliding back into me, accompanied by a scream of protest from me. Then he was moving into full rut mode, pounding my poor pussy like a butcher tenderising prime steak.

So the situation was Sally was getting screwed by her beau of the small dick and yelling in rage and frustration, and yours truly was being assaulted by Bozo the great and I was yelling in rage and excitement.

I'll admit it. Bozo might be a louse with over abundant equipment, but he certainly knew how to use it. He was squeezing my breasts and tantalising my nipples in time to the music he was beating out of my pussy. I might have been furious, but my body was ignoring that and thoroughly enjoying the unexpected adventure.

I vaguely heard the beau of the small dick give a satisfied grunt, and heard Sally give one last frustrated scream. I'm sure my squeals and screams and general protests more than made up for any silence on their part. Bozo apparently needed a long time to get all that equipment properly up to speed, and it seemed to take forever before he was approaching a climax.

Not so me, however. I climaxed well before Bozo was ready, and he didn't even slow down to acknowledge it, just kept pounding happily along. By the time he was ready to climax, I was heading rapidly for my second, and I must have hit it just before he shouted and flooded my insides. He came like a fire hose, and it felt like I was being scalded to death by hot acid as he pumped furiously into me. This was not helped by my internal muscles clamping onto his monster and holding it, grimly determined to take everything he was offering.

Next thing I know, Bozo was prying me off his cock. Then he gave me a tremendous whack on the bottom, and told me that was for making him chase me. He stepped past me and joined his mate, and they headed of whistling.

I joined Sally and we straightened our clothes and walked slowly back to the road. The boys had gone. We picked up our backpacks and hiked off towards the town, but it was at least a mile before my legs stopped wobbling.

The point I'm trying to make is that what happened had nothing to do with our hitchhiking. It could even happen just walking down the street, if you meet the wrong people. It was just bad luck that Sally and I ran into a couple of them.