The Worst Adventure Ever

Fall comes to Alabama like a gentle kiss; days in the 80's, nights in the 50's. You can wear a sweater to a football game, and still drive topless the next day. In a convertible. The car, God, get your mind out of the gutter!

I'm Silky, and I live with Jessica, my sister /lover and George our Uncle /Daddy /owner. We all sleep in a big bed together, and have a happy normal family. Jess & I are students, George works somewhere. Read my other adventures to learn more about us. Anyway....

George has plenty of money. He gives one quarter of everything he earns to the Church, and one quarter to other charities. We have more than enough, he says. Still, we live in a nice house, drive nice cars, travel, stuff like that. He has some antiques; some old tables and a Japanese sword.

"Why do we have to clean all this shit?" Jess was bitching about doing the chores. We both always bitched about that. "Why don't we hire someone to do this?"

"Because you need to do it," was his standard answer.

"This sword is, like, two hundred years old. All it's good for is to sit on the shelf," Jessie argued.

"If I show you once, will you quit bitching?" He asked.

So he took the sword, and held it in that Kung-Fu style like it was going up his sleeve, and told me to throw a watermelon at his head. Really, he did. So I did, and whup, whup, the sword moved like a rocket, and the melon fell into three exact pieces at my feet.

"Eat up."

We did. But I have to say, we didn't really quit bitching for more than a day or two.

I was through with classes for the day, and I knew George wouldn't be home for a while. I had been out playing golf with Tommy and Will, two guys from the Soccer team; they always think that cheerleaders have no athletic skills. I can always beat them, but I think golf sucks. Only a man would invent a game where you play "holes." I mean, seriously, guys say I played 9 holes today. Doesn't that sound like an orgy?

As if any guy could really play 9 holes; if I said I played 9 'sticks' today you'd know I could, if I wanted to. I went with them because ever since they peeked on us in the locker room, which they don't know I know, anyway, they've been weird. I didn't think them seeing me shove an eco-friendly dildo into Charlotte would have a bad effect. Or seeing with their own eyes that my pussy is as crimson as my team (Roll Tide!) and as unshorn as reputed. Anyway, I meandered toward the house swinging the putter I carried with me, and idly wondering if Jess would be home.

If she was, maybe I'd convince her to lick my pussy. If not, I had a barely used vibrator that still needed breaking in. What is up with Tommy and Will? I kept rolling them around in my mind, but nothing floated to the surface.

As I entered the house, I heard noises. A man's deep voice, not George. Now he certainly doesn't object to the occasional friend, as long as we use condoms, but it's odd to have someone in the house at 3 pm.

I stepped into the great room and saw a naked black man; a huge naked black man. I'm talking nose guard size, and in Alabama that means 300 pounds and 6'3" or more. Jess was on her knees in front of him, and from the sounds was giving him a major blow job.

He crooned, "Thas' it baby, take it all, you good at that, you know you are."

Another cause for alarm. This man knew of Jessie's skills at oral sex. She's famous for them, but not quite to the level of strangers dropping in for a quick suck. I moved quietly across the rug, glad that for once I had worn Reeboks instead of heels. As I moved, I saw that he had Jess's hair wrapped in his hands, tightly. Like, really knotted up. She couldn't move. As I saw more, I saw the bruises on her face, and the crust of dried blood under her nose. Her dress lay in tatters around her, neither on nor off. This huge man with his cock in her mouth was raping her face.

I never even thought, I just jumped and hit him as hard as I could with the putter. He staggered and fell, releasing my sister.

"Jess, who is he? What's happening? Let's call the police!" I ripped my cell out of my pocket.

"No!" She screamed and lunged at me much as I had lunged at him.

"He beat you!"

"It's not the first time," she said in an utterly flat tone.

"Who IS he?"

"He's my pimp. Or he was, for awhile in Chicago."

"Pimp? But that means..."

"Yes, Silky, I used to be a street whore. Named 'Monique'. Before George saved me. Big John, here, used to own me."

"What?" I was overwhelmed.

"We can't call the police because I'm going to kill him. It's the only way to stop him." She looked intent on carrying out her plan.

"I think I already did," I said.

"Naw, he's breathing." Jess evolved into a new, darker, person standing in front of me.

"We can't just KILL him."

"Not 'we', baby girl. Me. I don't care what happens after, if he's dead."

We stood toe to toe, intently eyeing each other. That proved not to be a wise move.

A giant dark mass swatted Jess to the side, as if she were a toy. Moving faster than I could believe, that same nightmare grabbed my hair and lifted me off the floor.

"Well, bitch. Look like Monique got me a present. You'll make me a lot of money with that sweet white skin and those big titties!"

Struggling got me absolutely nowhere. My strongest blows hurt my hands more than his arms, and I simply swayed while I dangled. I felt urine warmly run down my leg, and was ashamed to my deepest soul that this monster had frightened me to a loss of what little control I had.

"Thas' good, little cherry. You might as well get as wet as you can for all this black meat."

It wasn't until that moment that I realized he planned to rape me. Good that I had already peed myself. I struggled even more, if that's possible, but with the same result. I was helpless, in a way I have never been before. I was too afraid to scream. He began to choke me, like crushing a roach beneath his shoe, and I could do nothing.

Slowly he lowered me to the floor, still cutting off my air. I couldn't breathe! No air! I had to get loose! The room got dim and far away, and I no longer knew where I lay.

He let go. Air! Air! Air! I heaved as much as would fill my lungs, and then thought to get away. Useless. He had never regained his pants, and now was fully engorged. I hope he was fully engorged, that thing was bigger than an ebony tree! My panties were gone in an instant flick of his wrist; I felt them tear.

Now the barbarian was fully upon me. I felt his enormous dick crushing its way between my legs. Destroying everything in its path, and rending me asunder. My first time fucking didn't hurt. I was so excited that I felt I could have taken in an elephant; this was the opposite. I was so scared and dry I couldn't fuck a gnat. But the elephant was here, and now, and forcing himself inside my vagina. Every inch was agony, and he apparently had plenty of inches. I couldn't back away, squirm, turn, anything. All I could do was lie there and be ripped apart.

Pain can be fun and very sexy. Rape fantasies can be a turn-on. Being restrained is lots of fun. WITH THE RIGHT PERSON! This was not fun, or sexy, or anything except horrible and awful. He continued to shove his penis inexorably into my bruised and bloody cunt, and I could feel every tear of tissue, every gash of flesh.

Suddenly he shoved with an extra drive, and I cleft beneath him. Had he reached his length? Would he now begin to renew his violation? A second penis suddenly appeared, bloody as a dope smoker's eyeballs, just above my tits, in the middle of his navel. Wait, what? It was gone, I hallucinated. No, there is was again. Gone. Again. Then it left and did not return. He froze, and slowly, like a giant redwood, shifted, moved, and then fell to his side, rolling me first, and then separating from me in a nauseating wrench as his cock sucked out of my pussy.

I didn't understand, except the pain lessened. He lay still, and I realized he had foamy gore oozing from his lips. He shuddered, as if he had somehow reached the ejaculation he strove for in me. And then he didn't move at all.

Jessica stood behind him, lip split, one eye swollen almost shut, and held George's prized Japanese sword sanguine and murderous in her hand.

"I shoved it up his ass." She croaked, in a broken voice. "I finally gave him anal like he gave it to me."

She dropped the sword in a strangely Freudian gesture, and sank to her knees sobbing. I inched my way to her, pain upon pain, and pulled her down to me, and we held each other in the grasp of sisters and wept. We were still there when George came home.

I learned the whole story then, how George had kidnapped Jess (the only name she ever had, to me) and saved her from Big John. How she had been a whore. How she had found love and freedom and family in Alabama, and little old me.

George has lots of resources. He doesn't usually (never) break the law, but this was a special case. Jess was seen in one emergency room (first, I demanded) while I went to another. We both were raped by unknown black assailants. (That's true, except the unknown part.) We described him accurately, except the hole from his anus to his gut part, and he's wanted.

The police won't find him anytime soon, however. We had to cover the whole thing for a few days, but both of us were 'raped on campus' which usually means date rape and we're lying to cover for the guy. Once we could move, we wheeled Big John and the rug into George's Mercedes Benz M-class SUV (which is, as anybody can tell you, made in Alabama) and took a trip to a secret location. There are some very deep abandoned mines within an hour's drive.

Rest in Peace, Big John. God will forgive you. But I'm not God.