Editor's note: this work contains scenes of rough, reluctant, dubiously consensual, consensually non-consensual (CNC), or non-consensual sex or scenarios.
INTRODUCTION:
All people in this story are over the age of eighteen, whether described as men or boys, and none are minors. The text contains detailed descriptions of a variety of sexual situations, including incest. Sex takes place at the beach, at a beach hotel, and in a public swimming pool. British vulgarities abound in the text for male and female genitalia as are Irish and British common day expressions.
The female protagonist is a naïve farm girl who grew up in a rural community in Ireland. Debbie goes to work as a waitress at a seaside resort near Dover, England. While discovering her summer of loving, Debbie learns that men who are attracted to her will take advantage of her good nature and innocence. She is manipulated and coerced into a variety of unforeseen sexual experiences, and finally, she becomes the willing victim, albeit partially intoxicated, of a gang rape that includes a surprise participant. She abruptly leaves Dover to work in London where she is traumatized by a rough crowd at a public swimming pool before she finds solace in a final mature experience with her rescuer, who turns out to be her father.
WHO FUCKED ME BEST - IT WAS YOU, DADDY!
'In case ya be 'wantin' to know, my name is Debrah Wittentower, but everyone calls me Debbie.' I grew up in County Leitrim in the far north of the Irish Republic. My grandfather was not Irish, a German war prisoner from the 'War to End all Wars (WWI). After the Battle of Verdun, he surrendered to the Allied forces in France and was sent to a military prison in Ireland. War prisoners could work for local families and when the war was over, my grandfather stayed in Ireland and continued to work as a hired hand on my family's eighty-acre dairy farm.
Grandpa Witt, as we called him, was an experienced dairy farmer. Grandma used to say, "no one could pull on a tit the way he could." Milking cows by hand was the practice before stainless steel milking machines modernized the process. I guess sleight of hand helped him to bed the farmer's daughter, my grandma. Grandpa is the source of my natural honey blond hair. My big tits, like my mother's, are the sign of a milkmaid.
After my Mom was born, a variety of farmhands worked for the family. Mom got sweet on Oscar when she was a year out of high school. She found him attractive and before long they were indulging in the carnal acts that priests frown on.
When grandma realized her daughter was pregnant, she brought the couple to the village priest; the engagement and the wedding date were set. An unexpected disaster wrecked those plans. In the end, I grew up without a dad.
"Who is my Dad? I would ask when I was a small child.
Mom would reply, "Who is your father? It is no mystery at all?"
I learned later from a nosy parker relative that Oscar Pennypacker, Mom's fiancee, was searching for her one afternoon. He walked into the back room of Flint's pub and saw my mom lying on a table, her skirt thrown back, her tits blowing in the breeze, being fucked by the publican's son.
Oscar, seeing young Flint's red dick besting his future bride, walked out of the pub without a word and was never seen again around our parts. Some said Oscar ended up in England, a good guess, as that was where most of the Irish went to find work.
I was born seven months later. The Priest gave me Mom's last name. Mom said that Oscar was responsible for her pregnancy, but the priest refused to give me my father's name. Mom insisted she was a virgin, and no man had shared her before Oscar. She was drunk as a lord or lady, she insisted, when Seamus Flint, the publican's son, fucked her on that hot afternoon.
It is common knowledge that a lot of the country lasses end up with a cock between their legs in the private back rooms of Flint's Pub when they've had too much to drink. Mom knew she was pregnant by Oscar before Flint took advantage of her. It was one last fling before the wedding closed her pussy door, a door so easily pulled open on that reckless afternoon.
At Aunt Mary's nephew's wedding, Mom had drunk a bit too much, I heard her say,
"Weddings are depressing."
"You had your chance," said Aunt Mary, "but you muffed it."
"Yep, and for a lousy drunken fuck by a pencil dick, when my fiance had a cock like an oak tree". Then Mom shut up, realizing I was listening.
Enough about the sins of our parents.
Wittentower is a big name for a wee lass. I am only 5'4" and blond-haired, freckled, and narrow-waisted with big boobs. I've often noticed the boys admiring my ass, which is not big, but well formed. At least I like to think so.
I was still a virgin at the start of summer, but I was wondering why. I decided at some point I might as well give up my virginity, and learn why women like being fucked and men seem so obsessed with fucking us, much like the dogs coupling on the multicolored cobblestone streets of our village. Having seen how the beasts lock together, I was afraid if I gave up my virginity, I'd lock to the perpetrator for God knows how long. That fear turned out not to be a reality, but it kept me chaste for a while.
I left school early and by the age of eighteen, I left Eire. I was working that summer as a waitress in a seaside hotel on the English Coast near Dover. It was a fairly large hotel built in the Victorian era when air conditioning had not yet been discovered. Because of the seaside's moist heat, each guest's room had a small balcony where one could enjoy the cool night air that swept in from the ocean. The hotel, as is the practice, had a lounge room closed off from the bar where women or parties might congregate. Respectable women did not sit at the bar with the menfolk.
A pebbly path from the hotel leads down to the seaside, and like most beaches in Dover, the shoreline is strewn with small blackish rocks and pieces of glass the sea has turned to polished gems. Most bathers wear rubber shoes to avoid cutting their feet. Dangerous Man of War jellyfish float in the water and wash up on the shore at high tide. They look like small balloons but sting severely, much like the men with their hard-ons hidden in their underwear.
I lived on the hotel premises and they gave me breakfast in return for extra chores. My rent was modest and deducted from my salary. There was no elevator in the old building. I had to climb upstairs to the top of a long winding staircase to reach my room, hardly bigger than a hatbox. Inside was a small bed. The walls are lined with thin strips of wood painted sea blue. A small watercolor of a distant small boat on a rough white-capped sea hung on the wall. If you looked closely, there was the shadow of a shark following, a metaphor for my situation.
The only electric light at the center of the room cast a yellow glow. The small window faced the ocean. On a clear day, one could see for miles, and once in a while the room filled with moon glow. Although the room would warm up in the morning sun, it was cool at night when I slept with a thin blanket.
My boss, Mr. Starbuck hired me, and climbed upstairs to show me my room, saying,
"Debbie, under no circumstances are you to invite a customer up to your room."
"Ah sir, don't ya be worrying about that. I ain't inviting no one."
"Well dear, if I knock on your door late at night, please don't turn me away. A favor is all I'd ask, and that favor goes with the job and I will reward you."
That comment shocked me. I just grinned like an idiot, still thinking of the dogs locked and such.
My sexual experience was limited to bold fellows trying to put their hands up my shorts or under my skirt or grabbing at my tits. I suppose some ended up jerking off in the hotel bathroom with my tangy vagina smell on their fingertips, but no one had gotten their dick inside me.
Only a week passed before Mr. Starbuck came knocking at my door very late at night.
"Debra," he whispered, "Let me in. You owe me a small favor."
"I'm sorry, sir," I lied, "but I'm having my period." I thought he intended to fuck me.
"No problem dear," he unlocked the door and pushed it open, key in hand.
"A quick hand job is all I need. That will more than satisfy me."
He was wearing a sort of nightgown, but when he lifted the fabric, his cock was clearly visible. He grabbed my hand and placed it on his cock, sizable for an older man, partly erect and pointing down.
