Homeless Toy

PART 1

Sandie walked along in a kind of daze; she wasn't really sure why she was here in this dark alley. It smelled of rotten fruit and bad meat, all mingled with the pungent, salty air of urine. In the dim light she could see that the lower part of the walls on either side of her were stained dark and wet from countless people who had relieved themselves. In her heart-of-hearts, though, she knew exactly why she was here, but she didn't want to admit it. Ever since she had decided to play out her fantasy for real, her twat had been wet. The thong she was wearing was probably soaked by now, the front panel folded in on itself and cut between her labia and as she walked. It rubbed against her clit and was maddening, having this stimulation and not having a man to take care of it. Still, the night was young. She knew that she had to do something quick or she would explode. Sandie had wandered a long way from the main street, and after several turns in the filthy maze of the darkest part of the city, she was thoroughly, completely lost and wasn't even sure how to return to civilization.

The smell of stale wine suddenly intruded on her senses and she stopped as her heart hammered away within her chest. In the dim light she could just make out a human figure. It was crouched amidst a huge pile of old rags, knees drawn up, head bowed, hand clutched around a fat brown paper bag with a twisted top. As her eyes adjusted to the almost non-existent light of this place, she could see it was a man. His matted, stringy hair hung heavy and limp over his face, and at first she thought he was asleep, but then he growled without looking up,

"What's yer name, girl?" he croaked in a gravelly voice.

Sandie clutched her purse close to her chest and stepped back a little. She struggled to answer him, but no words would come out. He pushed himself upward, sliding up the filthy wall with his back against it.

"I said," he leaned forward and raised his face to hers, "What's... yer... name!" His eyes were almost completely dark, but somehow held a fire within, and he had a stubbly growth of a week-old mangy beard. His hair hung past his cheeks, limply and filthy. He lifted the paper sack to his lips and tilted his head back. She was fascinated by the sight of his Adam's Apple as it pumped up and down, the gurgles told of a long pull on the bottle. He tottered toward her and pushed her roughly back against the dented, rusty garbage cans lining the alley. She stifled a startled cry as he pitched the sack towards the wall. There was a hollow ringing of breaking glass as the empty bottle disintegrated within the brown paper bag. He put one hand against the wall and leaned forward more until she was bent backward against the garbage cans, pinned against them, unable to move. His breath reeked of sour wine, and he suddenly grinned, showing yellow teeth with brown tobacco stains.

"Let's have a little fun, then, shall we?" he leaned over her and slobbered a wet, noisy kiss against her neck, mouthing it, gnawing at it, slurping his own spittle back into his mouth. In her ear he repeated, "What's yer NAME?!" He snatched her purse from her hands and flung it away into the semi-darkness of the alley.

"S-S-Sand-d-d-die." She stuttered.

"Well, S-S-Sandie," he mocked, "Let's see what we 'ave 'ere." He reached a tattered, fingerless gloved hand to deep vee of her neckline and gave it a quick tug. Her short dress was buttoned up the front, and his first pull sheared three or four of the large tortoise shell buttons off. She felt a sudden rush of cool air against her skin, which told her that her breasts had been mostly exposed.

"Ahhh, my girl, that's a sight for these ol' eyes!" Sandie hadn't put on a bra that night on purpose. A hot rush of blood flushed her cheeks because she wanted to be exposed like this, wanted this stranger to take advantage of her helplessness. In fact, she was a bit ashamed that she was so excited by it. Her breasts were fairly small, and her little pink nipples were now returning his lustful gaze like little eyes. He took hold of her dress with both hands and yanked apart again. Three or four more buttons clattered on the dark pavement and his hungry eyes took in the sight of her naked belly. He grunted and yanked hard again as her dress parted completely in two, hanging limply to either side. She steadied herself on the garbage can lids, her heart pounded, and her breathing came in ragged gasps. This was why she was down here in this part of town.

"Yes!" she wanted to scream, "Rape me! Take me right here!" She surprised herself then as she heard her small, frightened, little-girl voice as it trembled a whispered "Please..." and trailed off.

He couldn't tell whether that was a plea, or an invitation, nor did he care. He roughly laid his hand flat on her stomach and pushed her tight against the cans whilst his other hand fumbled with his belt.

He dropped his grimy trousers to his ankles and pressed against her, forcing her legs apart. He wasn't wearing any underwear so she could feel his nasty, naked sausage pressing on the stretched panel of her thong and slithering between her thighs and up between her bum cheeks. His left hand encircled her throat and held her while his right hand groped and kneaded her small tits like biscuit dough. She was so frightened that she literally peed her knickers, and yet, she had never been so turned on in her life by rough treatment like this. When the tramp felt her hot piss on his exposed cock, he moaned loudly and she felt his cock twitch and start to rise. The only words he spoke were lustful grunts and the occasional "Oh, Yea!" as he bucked his hips toward her in little jerks and rubbed his cock along her vee. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder then and spun her around. She almost lost her footing, but he grabbed her waist, steadied her, and slammed her down onto the clanging garbage cans. She felt the cold hard metal of the trash can lids press cruelly against her naked belly. His left hand pushed hard on her back, holding her down and he pulled hard on the thong and actually lifted her feet from the ground; the string of the thong cut painfully into her crack and split her labia. When she whimpered like a lost kitten, he just growled.

"Shut up, bitch!" He said low and menacing.

He stripped the thong quickly downwards, leaving it cutting into her thighs and forcing her legs more together, constrained by the cords of her thong. Her hands outstretched to support herself against the filthy, slimy wall in front of her as his hands spread her ass cheeks and kneaded them roughly. She heard him spit and felt it land on her slit, running down across her little puckered asshole and on downward across her already slippery-wet pussy. She felt his blood-engorged dick head press against her slit, and then with a grunt, he penetrated her and slid all the way into her in one long continuous push. She cried out in pain as he split her, but he grinned and sighed,

"Ahhh, my girl... it's been a long time for Ol' Jack, it has!" He waited a moment for her to get used to the invader, and slowly pulled out until only the bulbous helmet was still within her. She heard him spit again just before he rammed into her a second time, then a third, and forth, and eventually, having lubricated her enough, and had plenty from her own pussy juices, he began a pounding rhythm of fucking into her from behind, her pussy lips split cruelly by his rigid penis. The trash cans banged and clanged together as he drove into her from behind, both of his hands still on her bum cheeks, squeezing them, stretching them. She heard a rustling behind her and struggled to look back. She craned her neck to see, and thought that perhaps her eyes deceived her, but no, she clearly saw it. The pile of filthy rags he had been laying amongst began to shift and move, bubbling up until two heaps were formed. She realized with a start that this pile of rags was slowly solidifying into the figures of two more homeless tramps. They had been roused by the rhythmic clatter of the garbage cans caused by Jack's vigorous fucking of Sandie.