Things were going well for me, all things considered. I was empowered. I was getting what I wanted socially, sexually, and I was even bossing my bitch mother around. Life was good, and I found myself excelling at anything I wanted to try on a whim.
Except for Ralph. We'd still only fucked once, and I was ambivalent. I hated him for fucking me. I wish I could take it back, and while he hadn't made a move since, I knew that he still wanted to fuck me again. I could see it in his eyes every night at dinner, he looked at me in the way that guys do when they've been inside of you.
On the other hand, I had him to thank for liberating me. Not that I was an uptight prude before, but now I was doing what I want and how I wanted, and with no consequences. It was a good life, and I had come out of the experience a lot better. Something was still off balance though.
I wanted to make him pay. I couldn't figure out how to do it, but I wanted to make him regret it. He'd turned me into a monster by taking what he wanted, and the new Jenny wouldn't stand for that. Nobody treated me like that, and I had to make a stand for myself.
I got my inspiration a little over a month after that first night with Ralph. I'd begun to feel safe again, a combination of my confidence and knowing that my Mom was sleeping at home more. I could hear Ralph fucking her brains out some nights, but I knew that my favorite pair of panties was still missing and Ralph was probably picturing me. I made a mistake by letting my guard down and leaving my door unlocked.
One Thursday night I woke up to hear my door click shut. I froze in place, figuring it must be Ralph. I had my back to the door, and was too afraid to turn around and look. I figured if I pretended to be asleep, maybe he would go away.
No such luck. I felt a hand pull the covers off of me, and shivered as I realized I wasn't wearing anything but panties. I heard Ralph's familiar heavy breathing, but noticed a scent of alcohol. Ralph clumsily squeezed my left ass cheek and moaned. "Jenny!" he slurred. "Jenny, what the fuck?"
I turned over, alert. He was stark naked, his swinging dick right at eye level again. "Fuck off, Ralph, get out of here."
"Jenny, I told you..." he slowly tried to crawl onto the bed. "I told you that your cunt was mine!"
"Jesus Ralph, go back to bed. You're drunk, and we're not doing this again."
"You're a whore!" I slapped him, but he started climbing over me. "I saw your videos. You fuck a thousand dicks a day! Whore!" I saw a strange, pitiful look in his eye. A look of rejection. For the briefest instant, I pitied him.
Until he pinned my arms down and started grinding his cock against my pussy. He was drunk, but still way bigger than me, and I was struggling to get out from under him. The feeling of his warm meat between my legs started to get me wet, despite the circumstances. "Fuck you," I spat in his face.
"You dumb cunt!" he cocked his arm back, ready to hit me. Realizing that this was the only time I wasn't totally outclassed by his strength, I flung him off the bed onto the floor. I heard a loud pinging sound as he fell, realizing that his head hit the metal bed frame on the way down.
"Jesus," I muttered as I got down cautiously. He was still breathing, but pretty unconscious. It was tough to tell whether it was from the booze or the hit to the head, but he was out cold.
I was sort of dumbfounded. I didn't know what to do. I sure as hell didn't want to wake him, but I couldn't leave my naked stepfather sleeping on the floor. I could go get my Mom, but then she'd want to know what he was doing here and she'd find out I fucked her husband. I was at a loss.
Panicking, I threw on a set of clothes and decided to leave him there. I grabbed my keys and got in my old Dodge Neon, my head swimming with thoughts. What if he died? That would be convenient. What if he woke up and came looking? What if my Mom did find him? I pulled out my phone and dialed my best friend Molly.
"Hello?" Molly answered.
"Hey, sorry, I know it's late..."
"It's fine girl, what's up?" Molly sounded high.
"I'm having a pretty shit night, is it ok if I come over?"
"Sure, my parents are out of town. I'm just getting baked and skipping school tomorrow."
"Sounds good, I'll be there in ten."
Just then, I heard sirens. Jesus, just what I needed. I pulled over to the side of the road, a cop pulling in behind me with his lights on. What could he want? Fuck, I was on the phone. And I was probably speeding. I was fucked, a young girl out at two in the morning, speeding on her phone. I rolled down the window to see a bulky police officer leaning down.
"License please," he muttered. I fumbled around in my wallet and handed him my driver's license. "Do you know how fast you were going?"
"Thirty-seven?" I guessed.
"Forty-six," he replied. I knew the speed limit on this road was thirty. I wanted to cry. Not to get out of the ticket, but because I wanted to explain to the officer that I was fleeing my drunken stepfather who wanted to rape me. But for the first time since the incident, I was actually afraid, reverted back to a child. "My buddy back there clocked you at the Maple intersection, and I saw you on your cellphone."
I shuddered at the thought of the officers bringing me home, or my parents finding out that I was out at 2 A.M. All I wanted to do was have tonight go away, and things like this were making it harder. "Officer, I can't get a ticket, my parents would kill me!"
"Well, you should have thought about that before you went racing at two in the morning, little lady. Where are you going so fast anyways? You're lucky you're eighteen, it's a school night and I could peg you if you were a minor."
"Please, my parents can't know I was out tonight." The officer rolled his eyes and got his pad out, unsympathetic to my plea. "Is there...anything I can do, officer?" I looked up to see him looking down at me, his eyes fucking every inch of my body that they could see.
"I think we could work something out," he said as he put the pad back in his belt. "We're going to pull up and park ahead of you. Cameras on the car and all that," he mentioned as he looked back to his partner and made a gesture. "Pull up behind us and get out of your car."
The police car pulled forward and turned its lights off. I slowly pulled up behind them and turned my lights off as well, getting out of the car. In the frenzy of leaving, I didn't plan an outfit, I was wearing boy-shorts and a tank top, and didn't have a bra on at all. I could feel my nipples pushing against the sheer fabric in excitement as I saw the muscular officer leaning on the side of his car.
"Good evening, sailor," I said with a swagger.
"Don't get cute. Come on." He was stern, and I was kind of turned on. By all accounts I should have been totally screwed by now, literally and figuratively, and I was doing whatever I wanted to get out of it.
