I slept till eleven the following day. My pussy was red and sore, my lips swollen from them fucking my face. I was getting quite an education. Vicky got up shortly after me; she looked tired, and neither of us was up to a conversation, so we drank our coffee silently. I wanted to tell her about those guys raping me. But I was ashamed for putting myself in that situation.
My mother had called; one of my cousins, whom I didn't know well, was getting married. The wedding was in two weeks, and, of course, my mother wanted me there. She couldn't resist asking me if I was dating anyone. I didn't lie; I said I had gone on a few dates. She would die if she saw me on my knees sucking cocks and getting cum on my face. I can guarantee you she has never sucked my father's cock.
Things have a way of working out: Vicky was going on a week-long cruise with one of her "Clients." So I could use her car. Besides, I wouldn't feel safe staying that long in her apartment alone, especially with those two pricks that raped me still roaming around.
I looked at the clothes I was going to take with me. I realized I needed to do some shopping. I didn't dare wear some of my new clothes in front of my mother. She still believed women's skirts should be below their knees. I spent the day with Vicky shopping. She needed clothes for her trip too. We ate dinner in our room and afterward relaxed with a glass of wine.
I was confused about my sexual feelings. I found myself only wanting Vicky while at the same time loving the feel of a hard, dripping cock being forced inside of me. Especially the thought of a rough blowjob definitely got me wet. I would have to talk with Vicky after our trips.
I went into the kitchen for more wine, and when I returned, Vicky was lying on her bed in just a corset and off-black stockings. Looking at her, I felt warm; I knew she was teasing me.
"Come here," she said, extending her hand and pulling me on top of her. I lowered my mouth to hers, our tongues finding each other. It was paradise. I stripped down to my garter belt and nylons. We embraced in a tangle of stocking-covered legs. Before falling asleep, we explored each other's bodies with our lips and fingers. It just felt so right.
I woke before Vicky and gazed at her perfect face, trying not to think of what some man would be doing to her on their cruise. It was an odd combination of not wanting anyone else to touch her and me needing a hard cock in all my holes.
Vicky left, but not before we embraced and kissed deeply, with her warning me not to fall for some guy at the wedding.
I wanted to look nice, so I chose a tan dress with dark coffee-colored stockings, pale yellow underwear, and beige heels. I was ready for some grief about wearing heels; my mother disapproved of them. She would also be upset about the cleavage I was showing. This dress hugged my boobs tightly, so from any side, it wasn't hard to imagine how my tits looked naked.
I was making good time driving, so I wanted to have some fun. I didn't need gas but was dying to try what Vicky had done. Pulling in a small station, I inched my dress past my stocking tops.
"Please fill me up, I said in a sexy voice."
"Kelly, is that you?"
It was Kevin, the son of one of my mother's friends. I hadn't looked up; I was concentrating on the front of his pants. He was two years older than me but very immature; he almost giggled just seeing a pretty girl.
Of course, he cleaned the windshield. Vicky was always correct about what men would do. One thing for sure: he was a "Leg man." I couldn't pull my dress down; it would be too obvious. I glanced down at my legs; they looked great. My stocking tops were fully expanded. My panties had a row of white lace around the edge; from his vantage point, he could see everything. He approached my window and asked if I was back for the wedding. I nodded my head and said we'd probably see each other.
"Great, that would be fantastic! I can't wait to tell my mother you'll be at the wedding."
He acted like a child. I would bet he was still a virgin.
Sometimes, I wish I still was.
I parked at a rest stop; I needed to freshen up. Of course, guys were checking me out. I enjoyed the attention I got when I exited the car or walked on the street. My heels gave me a little wiggle. There were always guys trying to get a glimpse of stockings.
I arrived at my house at dinnertime, and after hugs and kisses, my father stepped back and said how grown up I looked. My mother had perfected looking down her nose, saying,
"That dress is a little tight, dear; have you put on weight? And I didn't realize they were wearing dresses so short. Maybe if there's enough material, I could lengthen it?"
My weekend of hell had begun.
I was dying for a drink. I should have planned for this and brought a bottle. I don't know how I forgot my mother's ban on alcohol. I suffered through dinner under my mother's cross-examination. My dad was nicer than ever, trying to sidetrack my mother's relentless grilling about the details of my life with Vicky. I'm glad I didn't have a drink. I was telling so many lies that it was hard to keep them straight.
Finally, it was time to turn in. When I walked into my room, I was shocked. I was so used to it when I lived there that I didn't realize that it looked like it was decorated for a fourteen-year-old. It was then that I realized how sheltered I had been. I pulled off my dress, hanging it up. I stood in front of my mirror in my underwear, stockings, and heels. I cupped my firm tits, lightly pinching my nipples, then drifting down to my crotch. I was so horny that when my hands found my clit it felt so good that my knees buckled. I wish Vicky were here to satisfy me. Little did I know that my father watched my little performance through a convenient crack in the wall beside the mirror. I stripped naked and jumped into bed, burying my fingers in my needy cunt; while, at the same time, my father silently jerked off in the room next to me after watching me undress.
The next day, I dressed in jeans, running shoes with a bulky sweatshirt, and my hair in a ponytail. I set out to find a liquor store, but I gave up quickly. Only two were in town, and they knew I was under twenty-one. These are the problems of growing up in a small town: everybody knows you. I finally found a seedy store outside of town that was more in need of making money than enforcing some law. I bought a small bottle of vodka to sneak into the house.
The wedding was at four o'clock, so I had time to relax. I loved New York; there was so much to see and do. I knew I could never live in a small town again.
Vicky had warned me not to wear dark clothes to a wedding. But I wanted to show off and piss my mother off simultaneously. Because my dress was strapless with a vee neck, I had to wear a strapless corset with black panties and sheer black stockings. My hair was in a French twist, with a few strands framing my face; a lace choker and shiny black heels completed my outfit. I stepped back and looked in the mirror; my dress was a little shorter than I remembered, ending a good three inches above my knees. I would have to be careful sitting.
My mother actually gasped when I walked downstairs.
"You can't wear black to a wedding. What will people think."
I had a white shawl in the car but wouldn't tell her.
She was nearly in tears.
"You don't need to sit with me, mother. I'll see you at the church."
My father tried to calm her down while watching me wiggle my ass down the walk to my car.
There were a few men in the parking lot taking a cigarette break. I noticed them passing a flask around. I needed a drink. I remembered what Vicky said about manipulating men. I parked in a spot with the driver's side facing them. They all looked my way, and I hit them with a smile. I swung my door open and hesitated momentarily to ensure my legs were on display. I got out, wobbling on my heels, acting like I didn't realize my stocking tops were showing. I reached for my shawl, pulling my dress higher.
"Oops, sorry, fellas, I'm not used to a short dress."
I said, pretending I was embarrassed as I tugged my dress down. In my sweetest voice, I purred.
"Is there any booze left? I could use a drink."
They fell over themselves, getting the flask to me. I took a mouthful, not realizing it was one hundred-proof whiskey. I sputtered, almost spitting it out. They were all laughing, trying to get me to take more. I shook my head.
"No, do you guys want me flat on my back? Maybe later? I mean, for a drink. Not flat on my back." I gave them a sly wink.
I was beet red as I hurried into the church with all their eyes on my taut ass.
The whiskey hit me like a ton of bricks. I sat in the back row, afraid of walking up the aisle. I tried to focus, but the church was starting to spin. After twenty minutes, I began to compose myself.
That's when Kevin slid in next to me.
"Are you all right, Kelly? You look flushed."
His eyes went from my boobs to my legs. I tried tugging my dress down, but that only exposed more of my tits. Even though I was hot, I slipped my shawl over my shoulders, covering me somewhat.
When the service ended, I took Kevin's arm and went outside. The reception was on the main road at the local Holiday Inn. I was sober enough to drive, so I left Vicky's car at the house, and Kevin picked me up. I was intending to get drunk.
I sat sideways, my knees facing him. I made sure to give him a leg show. Using my most innocent voice, I told him I had to check my stockings and not to look.
I sat back and pulled my dress up to my waist, refastening my stockings even though nothing was wrong.
"KEVIN, you were looking, you bad boy. What if I tell your mother."
He looked scared until I said.
"I don't care. You can look. I know what guys like; that's why I wear them. In a move that surprised me, he rested his hand on my nylon-covered knee. When I didn't object, he inched it a little higher. When we got to the reception, his smile had returned, and his hand lingered on my leg, playing with my stocking top. We got out, and I took his arm and walked in.
I wasn't about to sit with my mother, so Kevin and I sat at an unused table. We talked, and I was right; he was terribly immature, but he had a dick and I needed one. He had no idea he was about to get lucky. We had a few drinks and some food. The music started as I said my goodbyes to the bride and groom and got out of there. Returning home was a huge mistake, and I was about to make it worse.
