I will never know how I got into all this. I was an eighteen year old senior in high school ready to graduate in a couple weeks. My grades were good, my ACTs and SATs were great. I had applied to three really good colleges and been accepted by all three. I had chosen the very best, Brighton University, an excellent, small private school. My parents had set up a college fund for me years ago and I had added two very attractive scholarship packages. My life was about as good as it could get.
I was very popular, well dressed and coddled by over protective parents. I did not come from a broken home. I did not do drugs, nor smoke, nor drink, nor hang out with trashy kids.
I had only one concern about leaving for college in the fall, my new boyfriend. For the first time I actually had a boyfriend. My parents had always been very overprotective of me. I am an only child. All through grade school and the first two years of high school they really discouraged my dating in any fashion; even in a group. I was always popular, had lots of friends, but my relationship with boys had been very limited until recently.
About four months ago, I had started to date Kyle Wainright. This was a big step in my young life. Kyle was an all round good guy: top student, president of our senior class, and a good soccer player. We knew one another very well. All through high school we had been together in classes and in the same group of friends. My parents, and Kyle’s parents, knew one another as well and approved of our dating at this point, but it was clear they were trying to discourage any real intimacy between us.
Looking back, it was so obvious: we were both only children and our parents were live vicariously through us. They had all these great plans for our futures, but really these plans were their plans. We were to avoid all pitfalls and really achieve something with our lives.
So Kyle and I had been good friends for a long time, but nothing more until the last few months. Now we were actually “going together”.
We were the cute couple. He was tall, handsome and in very good shape. He had nice longer, light brown, hair, and dark eyes which were striking. We looked good together, but it was our personalities that were the real winners. You could tell kids at school wanted to be in our group. Even adults, like our parents, found our relationship attractive. Kyle liked my friends and I liked his, which seemed unusual at my school. He was one very nice guy to hang out with. We had fun together.
As time passed and we actually started to date exclusively, the question of sex came up, of course. He began to make it clear he wanted to move our relationship in that direction. He talked a lot about commitment and I did feel committed to him, but I had very strong opinions about sex. I had watched too many kids my age make some very bad life decisions, and sex by far was the most common mistake. Sex was not going to happen for me until much later.
First, I have to admit to you, I was aware of a very strong sexual curiosity deep within me but I assured that it never surfaced when Kyle was around. I knew my limitations when it came to intimacy and heavy petting was out of the question. I worried that I could not handle tempting situations.
My virginity was very important to me. First, I had a very strong moral issue with sex before marriage, but also, my sexual innocence was such an important part of my persona as I viewed things. I was the cute virgin and I liked playing that role.
Now put on top of that, health class had really scared me. The thought of disease or unwanted pregnancy really bothered me. The pictures were terrible and the text so vividly portrayed all the bad stuff that could happen. Frankly, health classes in high school had scared the crap out of me. I wanted nothing to do with sex at this age.
So Kyle and I had kissed and hugged some, but I was not going let him go further. From time to time, he would get all over me to move even part way to the next level, but I skillfully and emphatically resisted. Sex was not going to happen and I needed to avoid the temptations that I knew I could not handle if things went too far.
I liked my image. I liked who I was. I was the cute, sweet, innocent virgin; and I liked that. I was the consistently happy, carefree one in our little crowd and I was always the center of attention.
None the less, it was going to be hard to leave Kyle and go to college in the fall.
My family was also a consideration when leaving for school. I could not have a more loving and supportive mother and dad. They were both very busy with business, activities, and friends, but they found time to be involved in my life as well.
My Dad was a wonderful guy. He was doing very well in a very large international trading company, Aronow & Associates. He made tons of money but he had to travel a lot. He had business friends and associates all over the world and was constantly in contact with someone, somewhere.
He and I had always been close and as I grew older it was obvious how proud he was of me. As I move through my high school years our relationship had just grown stronger. My world was changing and he was traveling internationally more and more, but he still made time for his Caroline.
I was no longer his little buddy, but I had become a young woman he clearly admired. Our relationship was about perfect, he was always there for me, but he knew when to step back a little as well.
He bought me a new Ford Mustang for graduation; cute, blue, I love it. He gave it to me early in my senior year so I could get used to driving it while still at home, but that was just his excuse. He really wanted me to have fun with it while I was still in high school. I had a great dad.
Mother was also very much on my team. I was still her little girl. She had not been able to see me as an adult yet, but she could not have been more supportive. She just flat doted on me. She arranged everything from my hair to my shoes to make sure I was always looked my very best.
Here is something very important to this story. My parents were very active socially and like to include me a good bit. Looking back that is another way of saying…they liked to show me off. There were many times around their country club friends, when they would just brag on me to the point of embarrassment. I have to admit it was a thin line for me, because up to a point I found all the flattery very exciting. I know I glowed with embarrassment, but also appreciation. They made me somebody very special in their circle of friends, and I was the cute center of attention in many conversations.
My mother had been a Miss Michigan finalist while in college. Many, including my Dad, said I resembled her a lot; blonde hair, blue eyes; with a slim shapely build. I was a bit taller than my friends, perhaps a little smaller in the top; but, but, but, I had a butt to remember. It was by far my best “asset” according to my amigos.
My amigos were three very close friends from my class at school. We had been buddies since freshman year. We were known as the four amigos. We were together whenever possible. We were the group all the kids wanted to hang with—the cute girls. The boys all wanted to date us and the girls all wanted to emulate us.
In our senior year we had started to spread our wings together. One of our main events was to run over to the mall after school at least a couple times a week. There were times when we might buy a little something, or get a soda, but mostly we just walked around together.
Think about it. When we started going to the mall we were seventeen years old and we had nothing more interesting or important to do after school than to go to the shopping mall and waste time. None of us had part time jobs. We didn’t need them. None of us were in music or sports or extracurricular activities or anything that mattered. We were so lazy and coddled.
Looking back it was very clear, our lives had one glaring shortcoming…we were bored.
This might be something very hard to understand, but it is very important to my story. Each day we went through the same routine with no motivation to change. We were upper class kids, from well to do parents, with everything handed to us. I had even been handed a brand new Ford Mustang to get around in.
Consider the subject of money. Money was never an issue. In fact, it was never discussed. None of us needed jobs, we had plenty of money. In my case, my Dad gave me money whenever I asked. I had my own credit card and he made sure the monthly balance was always paid, no questions asked. In fact, often he would just leave money on my dresser. My friends all had plenty of resources as well, but I was the one to have extra funds if needed.
My parents, my school, the entire community did everything to assure life was good and safe. All I had to do was fall in line and move along with those things expected of me, and that was fun to do. The track ahead could not have been more clear…college, marriage, and a predictable upper middle class future with two or three kids.
The boredom was impossible for us to recognize, but looking back it was a big issue. There was something missing from my life for sure. The highpoint of my typical day was our typical afternoon trips to the mall and the silly things we said and did there, nothing more. We were so complacent and bored, but we just didn’t recognize it.
So we come to a fateful day in mid May, just a couple weeks before graduation. School was out at three, and the four amigos were at the mall by three thirty.I drove separately this time. My plan was to simply walk around at the mall for a short while with the amigos, then leave them and run to Mallmart alone to buy some makeup and head home. I wanted to be home in time to change and go to a soccer game beginning at six. Kyle was playing and I wanted to surprise him by being in the stands.
Dad was out of town and mother would be gone for the evening getting ready for a charity auction. Dinner for me would therefore be “on the fly” at home in route to the soccer match.
Everything went as planned. I was feeling very euphoric, almost what you could call a “high”. The four of us walked around the mall catching the attention of a good many guys who were just walking around the mall as well. Some of them we knew from school.
Now I must go back to my favorite subject, clothes.
I really looked great. I was wearing my favorite school outfit; a short dark red pleated skirt and a white sleeveless top with a little black vest. My skirt was very cute, but very short. Like several of my other skirts, it had been a subject of discussion at home. Dad typically thought most of my skirts showed way too much, while my mother thought most of my skirts were ok. This skirt was among the shortest I had. Both mother and dad agreed this skirt should stay in the closet, but for me it was ok. I loved the reactions I got from the boys as I walked down the halls at school.
I really had great looking legs, but my very best feature was my butt, and in a short skirt it really caught attention. As I walked I could feel the hem of the skirt moving against the back of my upper legs and that caused a wonderful tingle.
Frankly, I have to be honest; I really got off on the whole thing. This outfit and the responses I got from the boys when wearing it really turned me on. I would get these strange wild feelings deep inside that had me addicted to the game.
These wild feeling would grow and grow as I showed off. Looking back I cannot believe how aroused I would get. Sometimes I wondered if I could drive home without having a wreck.
My sexuality was such a conflict for me. I referred to myself as the reluctant virgin and these afternoon walks at the mall with the amigos provided a constant reinforcement of that perception. I would flirt with these guys until they practically cried without a moment’s concern. I was a virgin and I was in complete control of the situation.
Yes, I had this deep seated sexual curiosity, but nothing could alter my firm resolve to arrive at my wedding as a moral woman. We amigos constantly kidded about doing things with these boys, but these were things I loved to talk about but would not do. This had gone on all senior year.
This afternoon was no exception. There were a lot of kids at the mall and we ran into several groups of guys who tried to corner us into conversation, but we had perfected the art of “flirt and move on”.
There had been two groups of tall black boys who really tested our game. In both cases they were particularly insistent, tagging along for a bit making somewhat rude comments about how a white girl would enjoy a “date” with one of them. I remained in the center of the amigos, but it was clear a lot of their comments were directed at me. I was the only one of the amigos with light hair and blue eyes. We moved along, but not before their attentions had stirred me up.
Other than boys, our conversation at the mall was about fat people and the embarrassing things they would wear. We were young, slim and cute, and I was the cutest. We had so much good chatter about fat “trailer court” men with “plumber butt”, and even fatter women. Our most critical titters were saved for fat white women dragging half-breed black babies around. These little kids could be so cute, but the mothers were a spectacle. They gave the bored minds of the amigos a lot of entertainment. How in the world does a white woman end up in such a way; overweight, ugly and dressed like crap? It seemed like they were constantly pregnant and their waddle was a hoot for us. What spectacles, what grand entertainment.
It was four by the time I left the others at the mall and headed to Mallmart for my stuff. I was a bit behind schedule, but I was hurrying. I was really upbeat about the whole idea of surprising Kyle at his soccer game.
I parked, went in and went directly down the aisles headed to the cosmetics section. I was in a hurry. No shopping today. I knew exactly what I wanted. I didn’t even look from side to side. I just rushed along. It took several minutes for me to work my way back through the maze of isles, get what I wanted, pay for it, and head back out.
I was hurrying back through the aisles toward the exit when I first realized I had been given an extra large shopping bag for the three little items I purchased. My mind had just settled on the notion that she must have been out of smaller bags in cosmetics as I was hustling by the electronics section. There, sticking right out in the aisle; was a big display of the new Play Station Four. I was really hurrying along, but the display caught my attention. A sudden little titillation and I reached over to drop one in my bag without even slowing down. It was a relatively small box, my shopping bag was bigger than it should have been, and that was it, I just hurried on my way.
An undeniable thrill welled up inside me as I rushed along. It grew into an intense thrilly-dilly funny feeling by the time I was beyond the electronics section.
I had never thought about doing anything like this. Stealing something had never crossed my mind. I always had money. I could buy anything I wanted.
I had no need for the Play Station Four. The amigos had talked about one a while back but I did not even know what it did. In fact, I don’t think any of us knew what it really did. We had just heard it advertised a lot.
I knew taking it was very wrong.
Looking back, I was just bored, and I shoplifted it just for a cheap thrill.
I continued to feel this intense thrill for a short while as I moved along through the aisles, but the thrill began to subside. It was replaced by a growing concern as I moved through the aisles and toward the exit.
I began to worry. This was not a good idea. I feared setting something off. I looked around for a place to dump the play station, but noticed two very large black security guards walking a ways behind me. I had to keep walking; to stop or slow down might be suspicious.
My next thought was to just drop the entire shopping bag on a counter somewhere. I really didn’t need the cosmetics. I turned from one counter to another, but a glance behind told me the guards had gotten closer. They were talking and looking around rather nonchalantly, but I was scared they were following me. Maybe it was just my guilty conscious, but they seemed to be right behind me now.
There was just no way I could dump the bag. All I could do was keep a straight face and walk on out. I remember my heart beating in my ears. There was a nervous lump in my throat. I had never done anything like this. What was I thinking?
As I approached the exit, the two guards got closer and closer behind me, and as I went out the exit doors I was met by two guards coming in. The four of them simply surrounded me just outside the door, one showed me credentials, and together they walked me into a small security room just to the right of the door.
It was the ultimate trauma of my young life. I was a wreck. I could hardly walk. I was choking. I could not speak. Tears were running down my face.
THE INQUISITION
Once in the security office I was told to sit in a straight chair along the wall. I could feel my eyes filling with tears. I sat down and stared at the floor. I was shaking all over.
Three of the guards turned and left the room, leaving me alone with the older and larger guy. He was scary, black, and big, with close cut hair and a military bearing. He did not say a word. He just walked over, sat on the edge of the small desk, and looked down at me. Minutes passed as he continued to look at me sternly while I looked at the floor, sweating. The room kept getting smaller and smaller. I was having trouble breathing. I felt like I was choking.
Finally, there was a knock at the door. It was one of the guards returning with a small computer memory stick. He placed it into a PC on the desk, said something to the big guard and left the room.
Immediately a flat screen on the wall came alive.
It was then the senior guy spoke to me for the first time,
“Young lady, do you know why we apprehended you?”
There was nothing to be gained by arguing.
“Yes, I think so.”
I whispered in fright. I was shaking all over.
He hesitated just looking down at me very sternly,
“I must warn you, this is being recorded. Everything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?”
I nodded, yes.
“I want you to stand up, take the stolen merchandise from your bag, and place it on the table. Also I want you to put your driver’s license and the credit card you used today on the table. Your card and drivers license will be returned once photographed.”
I stood up, and as I reached down to get the shopping bag I realized just how very short my skirt really was. No wonder my dad had been upset when he saw it. The big guard was watching every move I made. I shook all over.
My vest was the small open type. I tied to wrap it around me and hold it in place with one hand as I struggled to place the required items on the table with the other. My attempts to keep it closed failed. What I was required to do took two hands. Fear was causing me to show clearly through my thin bra and blouse. Each time I looked down to get another item I would see the outline of my breasts and my short skirt and an additional pulse of fear would pass through me. Why had I worn such seductive things to a shopping mall?
A flat screen on the wall showed everything I was doing; each move was being recorded. What I had put on to entice the boys in the mall; looked outright seductive now as I glanced at the flat screen on the wall.
Once I was finished putting the contents of my shopping bag on the table, I gathered my vest around me and turned to face my accuser.
I was sobbing,
“I am sorry. I know what I did was wrong. Please let me pay for it. I have plenty of money. That one thing was all I took. I have no idea why I did it. I don’t even want it. You have it right there. I just made a terrible mistake. Please let me go…”
I kept sobbing. I was stammering, saying what ever came to my mind.
He looked at me with a scowl I will never forget. I felt so trapped. There was not one pleasant thing about him. He was scary, plain scary,
“Young lady it is nowhere near that simple. You are a shoplifter, caught dead to rights. It could not have been clearer. From the moment you took it, you had no intention of paying for the product. Shoplifting is a major crime and one we address very strongly here. When you shoplift you are as guilty as someone who robs a bank. That PS4 you shoplifted is valued at over five hundred dollars so that makes your crime a felony; a major felony. Do you understand?”
I nod slightly; tears were now streaming down my face. I was shaking uncontrollably.
“My main job here is to keep shoplifting to an absolute minimum and I am damn good at doing just that. This company prosecutes to the limit. That is the only way to stop it.”
He froze for a moment and looked at me. I was crying and shaking uncontrollably.
His face seemed to turn lighter for a moment,
“Sometimes with these young kids and little items, just scaring the hell out them can be effective, but that is not the case here. Your shoplifting was a felony and you are clearly old enough to know damn well what you were doing and the consequences if you got caught.”
He hesitated and scowled at me.
“Do you want to see the evidence we have? There are security cameras and security personnel everywhere in this store. I have two witnesses and clear record of you shoplifting the PS4 back in electronics, rushing outward to the exit with the item, then removing said item from your bag here in the office while admitting for the record you committed the felony. Do you want to see the tape?”
I shook my head, no.
All I could do was look down at the floor as I tried to control my tears.
He paced back and forth. For the moment he seemed to be lost as to what to do next.
“I assume you have been caught shoplifting before? Do you have a criminal record?”
I shook my head no.
“Yah, I’ll bet. I will never understand you little shitheads that are dumb enough to do this. It seems like it gets it in your blood. It becomes a habit. You didn’t need this stuff. It isn’t like you were starving and stealing food. You just wanted the trill. It’s like taking drugs to get high.”
I sat silently, shaking; tears streamed down my face. My teeth were chattering. Each breath was coming as a pant. I was perspiring all over. He stood there looking down at me. It seemed like forever.
I glanced up. He had lectured me severely. His black features seemed to have softened just a little. Maybe he was finished and bending to the appeal of my tears.
I struggled to look at him directly,
“Please, please, I am a good person, I have never shoplifted before. I have never stolen anything. Please, believe me. If you have me arrested you will ruin my life.”
He looked down at me harshly again,
“I guess you should have thought about that before you stole this stuff, sister. What are you suggesting; that I violate company policy and risk my job by letting you go? You realize my company has witnesses and security camera records of everything you did, right? I’m not the one who caught you; I’m just the one who has to deal with it.”
“Shit!” He retorted in disgust as he walked over to a control box on the desk and the video screen went blank. He had shut it off. He was not recording any more. He probably was going to let me off with a warning.
He came back across the room toward me with a strange look on his face.
I looked up at him for the first time.
“Would you let me go?”
I stammered.
He stared down at me fiercely,
“Little kids that come in here and do this are one thing but this is something else. We know teenage tramps like you that come in here and steal just for the cheap thrill. You’re type will try it again and again until you get put in the slammer. You’re just a female bum on the road to destruction.”
He repeated himself.
He gave me this strange look,
“How about this; you want to go free. Well, I’ll have those two security guards that caught you come in here and you can beg them. Maybe they will bargain with you. Who knows what they’ll want but maybe you can convince them to kill the tape and let you go… then again maybe not. They know your type.
He stopped and just looked at me.
Well, what do you think about that?”
I sat frozen.
Was he suggesting what I thought? Was he suggesting I buy off those guards with sex? He was looking at me like he expected a response. Maybe he thought I would just agree. Like I was promiscuous tramp that would jump at the chance to pay off the guards and get out of this. Or was he just playing a horrible game with me?
I sat shaking. I could not look up from the floor.
It seemed like several minutes passed with nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing and my occasional sob.
When I did not respond he turned angrier,
“Well, guess you don’t like that idea, sweetheart. That’s ok. Who knows what they would want a young tramp like you to do.”
He looked at me with a harsh grin and walked over to the desk,
“Let’s get this over with.”
He sat down at the desk, lifted the receiver, and then hesitated, looking at me. I couldn’t read anything his face…it had gone sort of angry blank.
Then it became clear he had decided to give me a final lecture. He sat with the phone in his hand looking at me so strangely. It was like he needed to convince himself to go on and kill me,
“You’re just another criminal shoplifter. We got you dead to rights on a felony rap. The police are used to this. They will have you down town and booked in thirty minutes. The judge will set your bond later this afternoon. Your daddy can come down, post bail and get you out. Then you just face the court case and the penalty. I suspect a good expensive lawyer can keep the sentence for a felony like this to less than two years.”
He sat holding the phone, looking at me, hesitating. I could not be more scared. He had done everything he could do short of making the phone call. He had thoroughly lectured me, threatened me, and scared me senseless, and now he had brought this to the pivotal moment.
I had to do something right then or he would simply make the call. I had to beg. It was my last chance. Once he made that call, my life was ruined…arrest, court, jail, and a felony record. Nothing could be worse. I had to do anything I could to keep him from calling.
I remember gathering all my courage, looking up at him directly and just begging,
“Please, please don’t call. You will ruin my life. Don’t you realize what it would do to me?”
I was shaking from head to toe. Tears were flowing down my face.
“Please, please don’t call.”
I was unable to say anything more. I looked directly into his eyes and sat shaking.
He looked at me with an expression that was so hard to read. Was I winning or losing?
Did he realize how scared and sorry I was for stealing? Was he now feeling sorry for me, or had it gone the other way…did he believe I thought he was faking all along to scare me and that he would never make the call.
I could not just sit still and run the risk. I needed to do something.
The outfit I had on was one that got a lot of attention from the boys in the mall. I knew it was way too cute and the skirt was way too short, but it did make me look appealing and innocent. I looked directly at him and turned toward him making no effort to straighten my skirt. I could feel the hem move upward. Was he watching me? Did he appreciate how cute I was?
Yes! His face told me instantly, he had noticed my move. How high had my skirt moved when I turned…high enough?
Maybe it was my move or maybe the stress was getting to him, but for the first time I was aware he was very uncomfortable and breathing heavily. He hung up the phone and stood to look down at me setting there,
“On second thought I’ll just deal with this myself. You want to get off the hook; right?”
I nodded, yes, without looking away from him.
“Well get over here.”
I stood up and walked slowly toward the desk. It was clear I had changed his mind about the police when I turned in the chair. He had clearly watched every move I made. His whole demeanor had changed. I was winning. The phone was hung up sitting on the desk.
Maybe an additional nudge would help. I was cute from head to toe. I needed to use every weapon I had.
I knew my breasts were aroused by the fear and clearly visible through my thin garments and my vest hung open. I made no effort to close it as I stood up and walked toward him. His eyes never left me as I approached his desk.
“Lean over this desk, sister.”
He ordered, as he came around the desk toward me. His face was dark, filled with emotion. He was very serious.
I went limp as I leaned over the desk and he pushed me down on my tummy. I hadn’t anticipated this. He was going to spank me. What embarrassment.
At least I was winning. No calls had been made. I could put up with a little humiliation. Bending me over the desk like this had to really help my situation. I knew this skirt was way too short to be in this position, but I also knew how cute I looked bent over this way. This short skirt was really working to my advantage. I knew how young and innocent it made me look. No way would he be able to hit me very hard. My butt was just too cute. A couple embarrassing smacks on my butt and I would be out the door. I was home free. I had won.
He moved up close behind me. I felt his left hand firmly on my back holding me down. I waited for the first smack on my butt.
“Here’s your deal, lady. See the phone right in front of you, hand it to me and I will make the call, or…”
It seemed like he waited forever; like he couldn’t figure out what to do next.
Finally, the pressure of his big hand moved up my back under my hair.
“Do you want to let me take care of things and just let you go?”
What the hell did he mean? Why did he not just smack me? Why was he still trying to scare me? If he thought I needed to be more frightened, to pay a bigger price for shoplifting, he had now succeeded.
I summoned all my strength,
“Sir please; please!—listen to me. I made a terrible mistake. I am a good person. I am ready to go to college. Getting arrested would ruin my life. Just let me go…“
He interrupted by whispering somewhere down close to my right ear.
“You mean you for sure don’t want me to make the call.”
I froze,
“Please, please just don’t call the police.”
I stammered and waited for him to smack me.
Slowly, his free right hand lifted the back of my skirt while his left hand still held me pinned to the desk. I was mortified. The thought of him spanking me was unbelievable embarrassing.
I waited, only to feel him start sliding my panties downward behind me. I tightened my legs together as much as I could, but my panties went clear to the floor.
More humiliation; was he actually going to spank me on my bare butt?
“Well here it is, sister; the choice is yours. Move your legs apart or reach over there and give me that phone; one or the other.”
With that, it was very clear; he wasn’t going to spank me. I heard his zipper. I felt him come against me, and I felt pressure. The pressure moved up and down along me. I could feel moisture.
He hesitated,
“So it would seem this is what you want, right?”
He whispered back down next to my ear.
I could not move. I could not say a word. The side of my face was pressed to the desk. I was facing a wall. He had one hand firmly on the back of my neck holding me down. He had the other hand guiding himself against me. He stopped there, waiting; it seemed like forever.
This was such a misunderstanding, but I could say nothing. I was mortified—frozen in place.
Then the pressure started increasing driving the front of my legs against the edge of the desk. It seemed like he was pushing hard enough to move the desk, but the other side of the desk was against the wall.
Finally, the pressure decreased and he moved up and down against me again,
“So what’s the verdict sister? Say the word; is this what you want? Just take a little of this and you are out the door.”
At that moment, it seemed like my whole world depended on getting the shoplifting behind me and getting out of there.
I nodded and my legs parted.
That was it. The pressure increased until it was unbearable. It hurt terribly. The fronts of my legs were being cut by the metal edge of the desk. I felt my vagina being opened slightly, horrible pain! I moaned,
“Oh please don’t. Please. It hurts. It hurts so badly. I am a virgin. Please!”
He decreased the pressure. He hesitated. Perhaps he was convinced he was making a big mistake. I could still feel the very end firmly against me, but none of the pressure.
He waited in that position. He seemed to wait forever. I could clearly hear his heavy breathing behind me. The pressure on the back of my neck decreased as well.
Finally he bent down very close behind me and whispered,
“Guess you think this is going to hurt too much. Do you want to hand me that phone?”
He waited.
I was aware of nothing but his breathing and his slight intrusion.
He whispered again,
“I guess you think this is going to hurt too much. Should I just make the call?”
His heavy breathing seemed to fill the room.
“No! Please don’t call!”
I sobbed and tried to adjust my legs back from the sharp edge of the desk. My legs moved apart slightly.
That was all it took. In one unforgettable horrible move he drove into me, unbelievable pain. I let out a scream. His hand slapped around to cover my mouth. He lunged again, and again. Inch by inch, thrust by thrust, there was no question what was happening; first he gained a little entry, then a lunge and he split my virginity; then, thrust by thrust, inch by inch, he invaded, deeper and deeper. The pain was excruciating.
Finally, he could go no deeper. I could feel his testicles completely against my bottom. He had everything. His full weight was upon me.
Once fully mounted inside me, he stopped and slowly withdrew a little. His heavy breathing subsided, somewhat. I could feel him moving ever so slightly deep within me, but the pain had let up. Somewhere in the process my moans had changed to quiet sobs. His hand released from my mouth. He was finished. It was over. He was still in me to the limit, but he was not moving. All I could feel was a pulsing sensation deep inside me. No pain, no pressure, just a repeated sensation deep in my vagina.
I lay there beneath him and my mind went wild. I had just been fucked, screwed by this enormous black man who was twice my age. Everything I held sanctimonious about myself was gone forever. I was no longer the cute virgin school girl. I was a low life slut who had just been fucked by the biggest blackest man. I was a shoplifting criminal, a felon.
Embarrassment started to overcome me. I needed to get away. I tried to move from under him, but as I started to move it brought him back to life.
Slowly, almost gently, he began to move in and out of my vagina. Now I was really being screwed. I could scream, but that would solve nothing. I was a slut. I was a criminal. I had shoplifted and I was paying for it.
My thoughts kept going around and around as he moved in and out. Now, I was really being fucked by this guy… this big black security guard. My valued virginity was gone. It was over, no more conversation. I was a tramp, a slut, all those things I had abhorred all my life. I was just as bad as all those trailer court wenches with the black kids. What a low life!
I became aware that the edge of the desk still hurt the front of my legs. I tried to move back a bit. He felt me struggling and moved us back together into a more comfortable position. The sharp edge of the desk no longer cut into the front of my legs.
He released my neck and slid both hands up under my top, under my thin bra, and under my breasts.
Kyle had tried to touch them for months and I had refused, and now this big black guy was just casually massaging them as he slowly fucked me.
I could feel his body move in rhythm as his hands firmly massaging my breasts, which he had now lifted from the desk. He seemed almost gentle.
In this new position he became more aggressive again. He worked faster and faster… harder and harder.
Finally, he snorted loudly, drove into me to the limit, and time after time I could feel his surges deep inside my body. He was finishing, stroke after stroke, time after time. It seemed like forever as he pumped.
My lower body was convulsing with uncontrollable spasms deep inside responding to the intrusion.
After twenty surges he finally slowed and more of his weight came down on me as he seemed to rest. I could feel the same pulsing sensation deep inside that I had felt before, only much more strongly and more deeply.
Then he came to a complete stop with a good bit of his weight directly on top of me, but this time I responded much differently than before. Maybe it was exhaustion, but I lay quietly only aware of continued adjustments deep inside. No pain, just a stunned, shocked feeling. It was like I was resigned to the facts. No embarrassment, no panicky feeling, just resignation. I had been thoroughly screwed. What would the amigos say if they knew?
The world seemed to go into slow motion. After sometime his weight became less and it felt like he was releasing me and slowly beginning to withdraw.
It was over. He lifted further and I began to move out from under him, but as I moved backward, it once again brought him back. He came down over me again. His arms returned around me. His hands found my breasts and lifted them again.
He moved back deeply inside and returned to stroking, more and more firmly, time after time, until he began surging into me again. With each surge he gripped my breasts, drove deeper, and deposited more.
Now, an unexplainable feeling came over me. It was uncontrollable. My internal spasms had changed. This time my body was spontaneously arching up to meet him and trying to tighten around him.
Finally, he let his weight down onto my back completely and his hands firmed up against my breast into an embrace. He stayed that way holding me tightly, and then, just like that. It was over. His hands released my breasts. I felt his weight come off me and he withdrew quickly.
He backed away. I heard his zipper. I lay exhausted on my tummy. How could I explain the strange empty feeling? Was I crazy?
Finally, I heard him moving behind me. Slowly I stood up facing the desk, with my back toward him and straightened my skirt and top.
I turned around looking down at the floor. I saw my panties kicked over by the trash can. Without looking at him I moved to get them,
“Leave them there.”
He ordered.
He turned to the table without looking at me and handed me the Play Station Four.
“Take this back where you got it and then get the hell out of the store.”
He ordered gruffly.
I could tell he was thoroughly angry and disgusted. He just rudely shoved the thing toward me without even looking in my direction.
I took it and started to move, but my legs refused to work. I had to lean back against desk for a moment to collect myself. My body was jumping all over inside.
Finally, I walked gingerly toward the door. I was so sore, so wet.
He unlocked the door and held it open as I struggled out and turned toward the entry to return what I had shoplifted.
I heard him firmly close and lock the security office door behind me.
AFTERMATH
Three security guards, all as black as my abductor, were standing right outside the door. I knew they had heard everything. I had been fucked. They knew it.
They were watching with obvious delight as I struggled to walk normally back into the store with the play station in my hand. My skirt was so short and I had never been in public without panties. I felt my skirt against the back of my legs. My world had changed. It was no longer titillating. I was no longer the cute virgin school girl teasing the boys—I was a tramp, a slut, a criminal. I felt so exposed, so strange, so wet and so embarrassed.
I tried desperately to move faster, but it was impossible. I could hardly walk straight. My body was jumping all over inside. My legs were weak.
I moved back through the aisles as fast as I could. It took several minutes to find the electronics section, and the right display, and put the Play Station back where it belonged. I did not look back but I knew at least two of the security guards had followed a distance behind. I could not have been more embarrassed.
There were security cameras everywhere. Why had I not seen them earlier? I was too innocent.
I never dreamed of shoplifting. I had over a hundred dollars in my purse and two credit cards. Why? Why? Why, did I ever do such a thing? Nothing could be more embarrassing.
I finally found the Play Station display and placed the one I had shoplifted back where it had been.
As I began retracing my steps toward the exit, I could really feel the dampness between my upper legs. Without panties and with the air conditioning in the store, it felt cold. I shook continually and tried in vain to bring my vest around me more.
As I made my way out through the aisles I passed one security guard after another who stepped aside as I approached.
“Thank you for shopping at Mallmart.” rang in my ears, time after time.
First it came from one of the guards who had followed me all the way to electronics. Then one by one, I got it from three more as I passed out through the aisles toward the exit. I didn’t look back at them. I was mortified.
Just outside the main door the supervisor stood in front of the security office. As I passed him he turned his back toward me. He said nothing.
I did manage to look at him, to study him for just a moment. Only then did I fully realize how very big and how very black he was. He was enormous.
He was purposely avoiding me. I hated the sight of him; but it was clear he hated the sight of me as well.
As I walked out through the parking lot I became more and more concerned about my condition. Deep inside I could feel my body still writhing trying to adjust—on the exterior I was so wet and so tender.
I kept thinking over and over, well Caroline, what a horrible thing for you to do. What a way to ruin your life. You are a criminal, a shoplifter, and a felon and that is bad enough, but you got away with it by becoming a low life slut.
My Mustang has leather seats. Thank goodness, I was sitting in a pool of his stuff before I could get the engine started.
Right away a thought swept into my mind…drive slowly, carefully. The last thing I needed at that point was to hit someone in my emotional state of mind.
I eased my way through one row of parked cars followed by another. I felt so bad, so vulnerable. I could not get my mind off of the shoplifting, the security guy and my condition. What a horrible experience. Complete humiliation came over me.
But, as I left the parking lot and turned onto the highway; my humiliation began to be replaced by anger, intense anger. True, what I did was horrible, I had shoplifted; but that did not give that big son-of-a-bitch permission to fuck me. He had raped me; there was no other way to describe it. I was carrying so much real evidence in my body. I should go straight to the police right now. I would get him in so much trouble with the law. I was only eighteen and he was at least fifty. That was rape for sure. That would be real jail time, the end to his job and the end of his chances to do this again. Anger just seethed through me.
But, as I drove further I calmed a bit and began to think it all through. It was much more complicated. My reporting this would simply make me look like a girl with “morning after” regret. He had given me the option. He would have called the police if I hadn’t begged and begged and finally, in a way, given him permission to fuck me. True, his calling the police could be view as a threat, but I know he really would have done it. At any rate I had nodded and spread my legs for him. I had the option to let him simply play out his hand—police or not—that would have been his call.
I looked down in my lap. This short skirt hardly covered me. What a mess. Anger flared again.
Maybe I should report all this to the Mallmart Company. I did not remember his name but he was the senior guy on duty. They would know who he was. I could get him in so much trouble. They would fire him for sure.
But what would that solve for me. The company would still have the witnesses and all the security camera evidence against me. I was a major shoplifter. They would go to the police and I would be dragged back into the mess for sure. I would have to answer for the felony and nothing they did to punish that guard would alter that.
To anyone looking at the whole thing, I was a felony shoplifter who had bribed a security guard with my body to avoid prosecution. I had succeeded and now I was filled with regret and upset. If I reported it to the store, he would be fired—but I would still have been fucked by the guard and now I would be fucked by the law as well. They had the evidence against me.
One by one, I went over every possible way I could think of to vent my anger by reporting this to someone and getting revenge. One by one, each possibility I came up with was quickly eliminated. There was nothing I could do to change what happened. I had been a horrible person and done something I never should have done.
My whole world had changed with one very bad decision—to grab that Play Station. I was no longer the cute virgin school girl that I had been. I was a criminal and a fucking slut. My anger started to fade as I drove along and worked to change my thinking to something, anything, constructive.
I tried to find any bright spot; as bad as it was this thing could have been so much worse. I had been caught committing felony shoplifting and gotten away with it. I had not arrested. I had not gone to jail. My parents and friend knew nothing. No one knew a thing, except those guys at Mallmart and I never needed to see any of them again. I never needed to go there again. No one was going to condemn me, except me. A little thrill passed through me. I got away with it.
Yes, he fucked me but that could have been worse too. I am a terrible mess but he really didn’t hurt me permanently. He seemed clean, he didn’t stink, and he had a job. He could have been a bum. They do hire real low lives at some of these stores. He seemed almost military.
My anger gave way to a dull reality as I summarized the events over and over, time after time as I drove along. I got away with doing the unspeakable by having the unspeakable done to me in return. I was lucky in a way. I had made a very bad decision on the spur of a moment and gotten away with it. It was all behind me.
I tried to calm down and pay attention to driving, but each time I moved in the car, I got more uncomfortable. It felt like I was sitting in a pool of his stuff. A strange tingle passed through me. Wow! I may have gotten what I deserved, but I sure got a lot it. Compared with arrest, courts and jail, I got off lightly, but physically I did not get off lightly for sure… another shudder. In all my health classes and wild chatter with my girl friends, nothing had me prepared for what just happened. I had never imagined that sexual intercourse could have been like this…that it could have lasted so long, been so involved, brought out so many complex emotions, and that a girl would end up with so much deposited into her body.
I had driven another mile or so when two monster fears started to sweep in—disease—pregnancy; oh no. One after the other these to intense worries crowded into my mind and the thought of reporting anything to anybody faded forever.
At home I parked in the garage, found a clean old towel Dad used on the cars, and quickly wiped my legs and the car seat.
The house was empty. Thank goodness no one was home. I headed straight up to my bathroom. My skirt and blouse and bra hit the floor. I was nude as I turned toward the shower and saw my image in the mirror. I was startled by my breasts. They were very red and already an array of bruises had formed on them. He had been far rougher than I realized. Why would I not have been aware what he was doing to me?
I showered, hot, long; washing every inch of my body. My sex was so tender and swollen it was frightening. I tried to wash it thoroughly, but very gently. Just the lightest touch caused reaction. I could feel my lower tummy tumbling over and over, cramping and convulsing.
Finally finished with the shower I dried carefully and started to dress. I slid into clean white panties only to find they were soaked by the time I had them on. I turned to find some shorts.
Kyle’s soccer game was out for me. No way I could go anywhere like this. Physically I was a wreck and emotionally I was worse. I took off the wet panties, threw them into the wash basin, washed and hung them on the shower rod and put on my pretty blue robe. Nude under the robe, I went into my bedroom, shut the door, fell on the bed and cried.
My regret and sorrow was inconsolable. I was a shoplifter, a felon, a slut who had bribed the security guy with my body to avoid jail. I lay there sobbing. I was exhausted. I was no longer the cute young virgin girl, I was a whore. I had traded him my body to stay out of jail.
All the sweet attempts Kyle had made to just touch me here or there and now I had to give it all away to a big black stranger to stay out of jail.
Somehow sleep swept over me, fitful at first, but exhaustion took over.
It was sometime later when the phone rang. It was Sybil checking in on me. She had missed me at the soccer match—she would not have gone if she had known I was not going to be there.
I had to explain I was not feeling good.
“Are you having your period?”
She asked right away.
“No.”
I answered weakly, as a shudder passed over me once agan.
My period! I trembled again. I had not thought about my period. I never kept much track of it. I had no reason. When did I last have my period? I was panicked.
It took five minutes to get Sybil off the phone and find my school calendar on my desk. It took another two or three minutes to study the dates and decide my period had just ended early last week—about eight days ago—I thought. So when did it start? Wasn’t that the important thing? Or had it ended late last week, maybe ten days? How do you count the days? What day do you start the count? Confusion overwhelmed me.
Horrible health class memories swept over me. I hated health class—horrible pictures of pregnant women. I was a wreck.
Finally I forced myself to calm down a bit. I tried to think about the odds. I should be ok, he sexed me just one time—no really he sexed me twice, or maybe that counted as three. Like that would make a difference. Would that make a difference?
Emotional exhaustion and a headache overcame me I either passed out or I fell asleep again.
I awoke much later when I heard Mother and Dad come home. I think they went directly to bed.
Once I heard their door go shut, I somehow fell back into something I could call sleep, I guess. I tossed and turned continuously.
During the night I got repeated physical messages from deep within my lower body, strange spasms, and contractions. They would disturb me and wake me enough to worry, but I was so exhausted that as soon as they subsided I would fall back to a very disturbed sleep.
I woke early. I had slept in my robe so now it needed a washing. I carefully showered again. Fortunately, his mess was mostly under control.
I dressed in the most conservative thing I could find; Capri pants that were big on me, and a long sleeved blouse. I wore a maxi and two pair of panties. As I dressed my mind became a wild place. I struggled to get my emotions under control.
I could feel muscles jumping in my lower tummy as I pulled each garment up over my legs. Everything was so sensitive. When I walked, even just to the closet or the dresser, I could feel continued contractions deep inside even more clearly.
For years, I had wondered what intercourse would be like, and now I sure knew. Time after time I replayed the events in the security office; the position he had me in, how he had held me there, his sexual rage, how he entered me, and how he finished within me. As I obsessed about it over and over, strange complicated feelings began to accompany my recollections of yesterday; all my anger had subsided but strange new worries, emotions and responses haunted me. Was what happened to me anywhere near normal between a man and a woman?
Confused and depressed, I pulled myself back into the real world. No breakfast, just a half cup of coffee and I was on my way, struggling to keep my Mustang straight on the road to school. The last thing I needed right now was a car wreck.
School at this point was routine. It was my senior year. We were approaching the end of the term; my grades were great, so most of the attention was on graduation and the prom. Thank goodness, I was a zombie.
My first period class was history, state history. The teacher started to lecture on the establishment of the New York State boundaries. My mind quickly faded to the topic of my personal boundaries and how firmly I had protected them all these years and how I had allowed them to be so violated at Mallmart yesterday.
From there my minded move in a trance to the position he had put me in over his desk and the unbelievable complex combination of feelings when he was in me. How the intercourse with him seemed to last forever and yet it, in retrospect, it last such a short time. How our responses changed each time he started to sex me one more time. All this crazy thinking ended as I began to think about how enormous he felt when inside me. My minded locked onto that subject the rest of the class period. I never heard a word the teacher said until the bell rang loudly ending the period.
I met my boyfriend in the hall after first period. Kyle seemed distant from the first moment I caught up with him. Maybe it was what I was wearing. He liked the short skirts and had told me so many times. Today I looked dowdy for sure, these Capri pants and this top, just did not hack it for the boys.
Kyle and I had been good friends a long time. I really like hanging with Kyle, but I had learned he could be moody. At first, I concluded that his new cool attitude was a function of what I was wearing, but then I began to wonder if he could sense a change in me, physically, mentally. I had to admit I had changed so much in both departments. I was a nervous wreck. I was now a very different girl, no longer the sweet, cute virgin smartass he had been attracted too. My world was so much different now. I was a criminal whore. Did I unconsciously convey this to him?
I was please in the girl’s room after third period. There was nothing on the maxi. I threw it away. All the reactions deep in my body had quieted considerably. By the time school was out, I was down to one minor tremor in my lower body about every half hour. A thought came over me; like I had cheated the world. I committed a serious felony, I had shoplifted, but I got out of it completely by having sex with that guard. It was over. That was it, except for the fact that every time my mind had a chance to wander, it wandered to the new feelings and emotions that I had experienced for the first time leaning over that desk in that security office.
I had to set about getting my head back under control. I was still cute. I had good friends. I had good grades. I was graduating and going to a good college. With the obvious exception that I was a shoplifting whore, who had now been thoroughly screwed by a big black guy, everything in my life was back in order.
For the first time ever, school became a terrible place for me. It was impossible to concentrate on anything. Fortunately it was just two weeks to graduation and all important class work and tests were done. I made it to school each day and sat like a zombie waiting through one class period after another; with only one thing crashing into my brain about every ten minutes…the events at Mallmart. I got through everything required of me like a robot…senior pictures (Mine looked terrible. I looked so tired.)…final senior event planning…graduation practice….cap and gown. My nightmare went with me like a bad black shadow.
The only good thing in my life was that physically I had returned to normal.
Everything was different for me. I was so depressed. Nothing would ever be the same again. One event stands out so vividly in my memory and demonstrates how my world had changed.
About a week after the Mallmart event, right after school, the three amigos cornered me and wanted to go “on safari” to the mall. This was our custom. We had done this most every week all school term. It had always been just a fun, silly event for four very bored girls, but this time the possibility of going there hit me like a brick. I could hear my pulse; my tummy did a flip-flop, and an undeniable nausea passed up though my body. No way. I had my head back somewhat back under control, but I was not ready for anything at the mall. I was no longer the cute school girl, I was a slut, I had nothing to show off and beyond that, I knew I could not tolerate the whole idea of tease the boys. I was a haunted house filled with a wild array of sexual emotions and regrets.
They insisted. I said no. They went on and on. Today, I had the only transportation. They begged and promised to buy me a soda. I gave in. I decided I could do it. Step by step I had to get the Mallmart thing behind me. I had to take control. The mall and Mallmart were not together. I would suck it up and just go to the mall and nothing more. I finally agreed.
I drove the four of us to the mall right after school. I was wearing the big pants and a top. I looked ok, but I sure was not a tease for boys. The car was filled with the usual titter but I was nervously silent. I parked as close as I could to the entry door. I was so paranoid about running into anyone who might have seen me at Mallmart.
As I walked along I concluded that in fact teasing the boys was over for me forever. What a silly, juvenile game. I was a mature, well fucked lady. I now knew the reality of these black boys. That black security guard had showed me what it was all really about. I had no desire to tease with any more.
Right before the entry, three tall black guys passed us. A shudder went through me. I had lost it all under a big black guy. What a strange uncontrolled spasm passed up through my lower body.
Right from the very beginning it was not a good trip. Just the smell of the mall made me sick. In comparison to what I normally wore, my outfit was dumpy and I was actually thankful that it was. I did not want even a side glance from a boy and I didn’t get one. I wanted only to hide and let the time pass.
There was nothing that interested me. I simply walked along and worked to keep my head under control.
I was a different person—a sad, depressed young woman trying to understand a completely new role in life. I could tell my friends were disappointed. I was normally in the middle of everything, involved in the chatter, and advocating the fun, but now I hung back by myself trying to avoid any exposure. Several times Cindy asked if I was ok.
Finally, I told her quietly I was having lady challenges. I think she assumed something had gone wrong with Kyle and me. It was all I could think of to say and it seemed to explain to her why I was acting differently. That was all that mattered. As far as I was concerned, I convinced myself this had been way too soon to come back here. Maybe in time I would feel comfortable in similar circumstances again, but it would take a lot more time.
Looking back, this trip to the mall was the first recognition of big changes in my life. It was the first time I realized things would never be the same. I was a different person; I was no longer the young carefree innocent virgin. I was a very shameful, immoral woman. My concept of myself had changed more than I can describe and there was no way back to anything I had before.
I thought I had a firm grasp on things and could get back to normal, but that just was not the case. My new “normal” had to be recognized. The terrible guilt I carried completely ruined my self-image. Only the lowest form of life would do what I did. Only a slut would get caught shoplifting and pay it off by whoring a guard.
With each step down the corridor at the mall, I became more horribly depressed. I was a completely different person.
I drove them home and headed home myself as soon as possible.
Looking back, the early return to the mall was a pivotal indicator for me. Things would never be the same. My life had changed completely.
After that trip to the mall my amigos soon began to drift away from me. It was not that they came out and said anything or did anything differently. It was just that the bond that held us together was gone. I could no longer be the cute high school senior in the short skirt, flirting with boys in the mall. I had heavy stuff to deal with and I could not keep it hidden very well. The very thought of flirting with a young guy was repulsive. That portion of my brain was fully occupied by a new wild guilt and associated weird sexual feelings I did not understand—a new sexual consciousness that really scared me. They were still young girls having fun…Mallmart shoplifting had converted me to a mature woman with serious sexual concerns.
Soon they found other transportation. After school they were still going to the mall, but I would refuse to go if invited and just drive home and spend time in my room fretting. I cannot tell you how many times I came home went directly up to my room, sat at the desk and blankly stared at my school calendar.
My relationship with Kyle slipped away quickly as well. I could not tell him a thing, of course. He knew there was something heavy in my life, but I could not come up with any explanation that made sense. I was no longer what he thought I was. I was now a slut, a tramp. I knew it and I could not hide my feelings very well. I struggled to act normal and do normal things, but it was a failure.
Kyle and I attended the prom exactly two weeks after Mallmart. I will summarize the entire evening in one word…bad. I just could not be a good prom date. I was sealed up in my own little world of worry and fear. I felt very distant from him and by then, enough time had passed, that he had picked up on my darkness and started to reflect my feelings. It was just assumed for a long time we were going and there was no way to back out. So we went.
Making matters worse the prom was two weeks following Mallmart and nothing was happening, period wise, for me. Every waking moment I worried. Time after time, I found myself trying to figure out how vulnerable I was that day at Mallmart. I tried every way I could think of to pin down days on the calendar, but the only thing that became clear was I had not been paying enough attention in health class. Calculating things was impossible and the harder I tried the more nervous it made me.
My days were filled with worry; my nights were filled with terror.
The only bright spot was physically I felt fine. I was so aware of everything to do with my body; and while my head was a wreck, my body felt great and looked great from head to toe. Absolutely all physical aftermath from my day at Mallmart was gone.
Kyle picked me up at six. My dress was beautiful virgin white. He wore white accessories. He took me to dinner at the country club…very nice. We went to the dance at the school. He wanted to leave early. We went to a hotel room he and his soccer buddies had gotten. They drank…I don’t. They smoked a little…I don’t. Kyle tried numerous times to take me to the dark room…I didn’t go even though the crazy thought did crossed my mind to have sex with him. I would then have someone legitimate to blame if things went wrong.
That idea almost made me choke; how dumb; having sex with Kyle would help nothing. He was white, my school was white; my whole community was white and I had been screwed by the biggest, blackest man you have ever seen.
Kyle took me home around two in the morning. There is nothing more to say about Prom night. It was a complete washout for me and I know it was worse for him. His face said everything as he gave me a peck on the cheek at the front door, turned, and headed home.
After he was gone I sat on the couch in the living room, reflecting. It is sad to say, I was so preoccupied with my shoplifting problems, I didn’t think about Kyle or prom for another minute. The door went shut behind him and my head went back to being a full time garbage dump of terror and complicated sexual confusions.
My schedule at school was filled with end of year activities and preparing for graduation. It all kept me very busy and the days slipped by quickly.
All the physical indications of my fateful day at Mallmart had been gone for a couple weeks. Nothing unusual down below and my breasts were back to normal. I worked constantly to move the Mallmart shoplifting events into history and find a way to have a good time.
Graduation was two weeks after the prom. Ironically it was exactly one month to the day after Mallmart. I had a few nightmares the night before, but I woke up graduation morning convicted to being the best I could be. This was such an important day for me and also my parents. In fact, this was every bit as big an event for them as it was for me. Mother and day had talked endlessly about every facet of the day.
Mother had bought a new bright summer dress to be worn under my gown. I had not tried it on since the day she purchased it; and that was before Mallmart shoplifting. Now as I dressed it seemed way too colorful, way too cute, and way too short. Why would my mother have purchase this sensational outfit for me to wear today? I turned in front of my mirror and my tummy churned. What kind of a mess was I?
I was looking at a young extremely attractive blond, blue eyed, high school girl; about to go to graduation dressed like a darling…and looking back from the mirror was a tramp; a shoplifting felon possibly pregnant by a big black security guard.
Life would never be the same. I hated myself. I struggled over to my study desk and sat down. I had to get myself in order. I had to find a positive way to get through this day for my parents sake. I stared at the damn calendar for a full ten minutes. Then I went to work trying to put my most positive spin on everything. I concluded enough time had passed I should have my period soon and the last of my worries would be gone. I would just be a shoplifting tramp who got away with it.
I was going to make this a good day. I twisted everything around in my mind. I looked for everything positive I could find. Physically everything seemed back to normal. I would have my period soon. The self loathing would pass. Mallmart shoplifting would go down as just a big mistake and we all make mistakes, right? I went down the steps to join my parents in my most positive frame of mind. Their endless stream of compliments supported my good mood.
We had a nice graduation ceremony, outside; weather was good. I was very proud of my achievements. During the ceremony I received three awards and was acknowledged as the fifth student in the class academically. I had loved high school. It had been a wonderful, free, happy time with practically no responsibility outside of getting good grades; and I found that very easy to do. I was really going to miss the whole experience.
Most importantly, this was a grand day for my parents. They had invited several close friends to attend the ceremony with them. I was the center of attention. I could see their pride in every move they made and everything they said.
It was a thrilling day for me, except in idle moments I thought about the fact I had graduated in more ways than one. My parents and their friends treated me so special. In their eyes I was the cute, perfect girl. What would they think if they knew? I was going to miss being a cute, innocent, virgin.
All the activity of graduation day, along with work on my part, gave me some reprieve from my concerns and worries most of the time, but not completely. The ceremony required a lot of waiting, sitting among my fellow seniors clad in a long white gown. During these idle moments, time after time, I was overcome with unexplained overwhelming erotic sexual desire. It was all in my head, there was no one specifically the target. I had never felt like this in the daytime. I found a way to draw my right hand inside the gown and move it to my inner thigh.
I was dizzy when I finally took the long walk up to the principal for my diploma. I was the most silent, most horny, girl to ever graduate from Monroe High.
Following graduation, my parents had a party in our back yard for me. Our back yard was a great place for something like this. My dad spared no expense; he had the complete event including the decorations catered.
Mother had bought me another dress special for this party. It was light yellow, sleeveless, with a full, rather short, skirt. Once again, I spent a lot of time in my room and bathroom getting ready. When she bought it, I loved the way I looked in it, but now it was just more confusion. Strange erotic, scary, responses caused me to shudder as I looked at my image in the mirror. It seemed like so much had changed for me and now even what I wore was complicated. I knew the guys would appreciate this dress, but should someone as slutty as I wear something so tantalizing. Finally I gave up.
It is amazing how looking good always makes me feel good and, wow; I needed to feel good at this party. My parents had invited five couples from the country club and two from dad’s work. I had twelve relatives that came; aunts, uncles and a couple younger cousins. The three amigos came with their parents. Kyle and his family were there; and there were about eight other classmates. It was to be a fun time.
I moved around mostly at my parent’s direction and played the role of the happy graduate. It was fun. I felt so good. I was busy. The shoplifting events completely faded from thought for a while.
My relatives had all brought gifts, most often money; and I had a wonderful time acknowledging each of them.
During these acknowledgements, one very “friendly” uncle, my Uncle Fred, hugged me tightly. Fred is my dad’s brother and my favorite uncle, I expected his affection; particularly with me wearing this dress. I loved this guy and always enjoyed his hugs, but this time an unusual twinge went through my breasts as he held me. I remember it well. It scared me. I had never felt anything quite like it. It was not a pain; more like tightness that caused me to shudder.
He noticed my reaction and hugged me again, even more firmly, and this hug confirmed the sensation. My breasts were definitely different, fuller; definitely more sensitive.
It brought me out of the party mood for a moment. I had never felt anything like this and I had been hugged tightly by this uncle before. Was this an early sign of pregnancy? I was a felon shoplifter. I was a tramp. Panic!
I struggled to get my head back to the event in a hurry.
This was a grand party. I wanted nothing to spoil it. I wrote the strange feelings off as the very last reminder of the Mallmart damages. That security supervisor had been rough when he had me pinned to the desk. I simply concluded he had damaged them more than I originally thought. Or maybe this was the first indication of my period starting. I sure hoped that was it. This party was fun and I wanted to keep it that way.
The graduation day festivities ended around ten in the evening and I excused myself to mom and dad and went directly to my bedroom. I was exhausted and my tummy was a little nauseous from all the party food.
REAL FEAR
After the hugging events with Uncle Fred at the graduation party I found it once again harder and harder to get the shoplifting thing out of my mind.
Regardless of what I did and no matter how normal everything seemed with my body; night times were bad…an endless nightmare. As soon as the lights went out my mind jumped back to Mallmart, moved through the events in the supervisor’s office, and then move through the weeks until the hugs from Uncle Fred. Once again, I counted days endlessly. I struggled time after time to remember when I last had a period. I reviewed every inch of my body endlessly. I tried to find comfort in the fact that I felt good physically. I drove myself mad worrying about everything else. What could have caused the strange sensations in my breasts?
For a few days I had almost convinced myself it was all behind me, but now, after the party, my worries returned, big time, and they grew more troublesome with each day.
I tried to stay as busy as I could, doing anything that might take my mind off of the horrible possibility, but there was little I could find that was active and interesting to do that.
About the second week following the graduation party I began to find more reasons for my terrors. Those hugs at the graduation party were the first time my breasts did not feel right, but now I could get that same strange sensation by just holding them firmly. My breasts seemed larger, fuller, and my nipples were tender. My bras did not seem to fit right.
My mental state just got worse and worse. I had too much real evidence with my breasts and the evidence kept growing with each passing day. This was more than just my guilty mind working overtime. Something was really wrong and I knew what it was. Terror was beyond my control most of the time now.
Finally, one evening I spent a full hour at my desk going back over everything; my school calendar, the one on my desk at home, a new health book I had found at the library and all my laptop. I was looking for anything that might give me comfort. Anything that might tell me things were ok and would turn out normal.
When I finished, my summary reaction can be described in a few words. I was as terrorized as any girl could possibly be. This was no nightmare, no bad dream, it was reality. It had been almost two months since Mallmart and I was late, really late and my body was beginning to change just as the health book and several sites on the laptop said it would. I was pregnant by a big, black guy who was nothing more to me than a very scary stranger.
Why had I been going back over all the dates and what happened that day? It didn’t matter when my last period had occurred; it did not matter if he had sexed me once or twice. I was pregnant.
In that moment, sitting at the desk in my bedroom, everything changed from self loathing, to fear, to absolute terror. All along, right up to that moment, in the back of my mind, I had been holding such hope, but in that one moment it all went to panic. I was pregnant by that very big, very black, nameless security supervisor at Mallmart. I was not just a shoplifting slut; I was a pregnant shoplifting slut. I was the lowest form of life.
From that point on, every moment was consumed with endless agony. There were not even moments of escape.
Days passed as I struggled. I struggled to sleep. I struggled to get up. I struggled to get dressed. I struggled to get along with the normal tasks during the day. I struggled to stay “normal” with my family; and I struggled to deal with the endless hours of sheer terror.
My fear was constant. What could I do? Where could I go? I had no one to talk to. Just think about it. Who among my family or friends could I discuss my fears with…I got caught shoplifting at Mallmart…I had sex with an older black security guy so he would not call the police…I am pregnant and I don’t even know his name.
I lived in the whitest community, attended the whitest school, had the whitest friends, and the very whitest parents; I was doomed. Days passed as I tried endlessly to think of any alternative, any solution, anywhere to go. There were none.
Each day would begin, and end, with terror. I would move from one horrible thought to another. Every nasty titter we amigos had exchanged regarding the overweight white women with black babies came thundering through my tortured mind. Now, I was one. All the degrading titters we amigos had about the black guys. Now, I was pregnant by one and he was enormous. In my mind he grew bigger every day. It was an endless stream of the most horrible thoughts.
I struggled through one day after another as three more, long frightening weeks passed. I lived with constant terror and went about my required activities like a zombie. It had over sixty days, two months and each day it became more evident something was very wrong.
Standing in front of the mirror drove me to tears. My breasts were steadily becoming larger and larger and more and more tender. My nipples were much larger, darker, and so sensitive.
To make matters even worse, for the last three weeks, each morning when I got up I felt nauseous for a while. It had nothing to do with what I ate or what I did. It came on as I got out of bed in the morning and stayed with me for about an hour. Then I it went away.
On top of all this I was beginning to think I was losing my mind. I was so emotional. I could cry at any moment. Everything scared me. This terror was driving me nuts. I was overcome by anxiety, sadness, fear, and self loathing. I struggled to keep a hold on my mind.
Along with everything else, I was possessed by demon emotions I could not explain. Wild elusion would overcome me. How, in the midst of all this, would I be possessed by erotic desires like I had never known?
It could happen any time, but particularly at night in bed I could be driven out of my mind by strange, wild, sexual fantasies. The most common fantasy was one in which I would be a disassociated, third party observing what happened to me that day at the Mallmart. I would be lost in an erotic world where some other cute girl was caught shoplifting and required to do what I did.
When these fantasies occurred they would provide intermission to my terror. They would temporarily crowd out my worries and provide moments of relief. Much as I hate to admit it, most of these reveries would end with a climax as I envisioned this other girl pregnant by an enormous black guard.
When I was finished, I felt so guilty, I felt so ashamed, but this was my only relief and it would finally enable me to get some sleep.
In the morning I would wake to the daily terror that just continued to grow. It got harder and harder for me to function in any capacity. During the summer I was to help at a charity. I worked the phone bank most of the time and previous summers I had been good at it. I had a line of patter and a good phone voice they told me, but now I was terrible. It did not keep me busy enough. It gave me too much time to think; too much time to watch my body changing day after day.
I would miss call after call as I sat there looking down at my white body now fully occupied with the results of that big black guard’s black sperm. The picture of a pregnant womb I had seen repeatedly in health class was now mine and it was always on my mind and it drove me nuts. I could see inside my body. I could watch it growing and changing.
I would open my lap top and immediately find terrible visual images; and now I could feel them going on inside me.
I would have nightmares envisioning all the many overweight white women we had laughed at while on safari at the mall. I would sit at my desk between phone calls look down and think I could watch my tummy grow with his big black baby.
MALLMART REVISITED
A little more than two months had gone past since the events at Mallmart and my terror had grown to the point I absolutely had to do something, anything. My desperation was boundless.
I spent hours trying to think of someone, anyone, I could talk with. I desperately needed help.
Over and over I thought about every conceivable possibility, but absolutely, the only person I could come up with was the most terrifying person in the world, the senior security guard at Mallmart. There was no one else. He was the only possibility.
I worried all the next weekend, so much so that I got sick time after time. I meticulously went through family, friends, teachers, councilors—every possibility, but think about it; who in the world could I lay this on except the terrifying guy that did it to me.
By Monday morning near panic had driven me to desperation. I made my decision. I would go back to the Mallmart house of horrors and seek him out. I dressed as conservatively as possible, an older summer dress and light sweater.
I bit my lip hard, and drove the five miles back to the Mallmart. Each mile my tension increased. This was so humiliating. I had not been near Mallmart since the day I shoplifted and got screwed. Now I was forced to come back. All the security guys knew what I had done and they would really be quite entertained by my returning today. It was so obvious I was pregnant.
As I walked toward the entry ways I could see two black guys in the blue security shirts standing just inside the entry doors. My knees were weak. I walked stiffly, forcing each step I took. I wrapped my sweater around me and looked down to assure my dowdy dress was ok. It was. I had not put on the belt, so it disguised my shape better. It looked down right baggy.
As I approached it became apparent neither of them recognized me. I walked right past the security office, through the entry doors, past the two of them, and on into the store, without getting as much as a glance. Neither of them looked at me.
That is what happens when you dress like a frump. This was not good. I was not here to shop I was here to beg for help. I force myself to turn around and head back toward the guards at the entry.
As I turned toward them, one started walking directly toward me. It was obvious from his smile he now remembered me.
“Can I help you?”
His smile had turned into a smirk.
“Yes, please. I would like to speak with your supervisor.”
He said nothing, just held the same expression as he looked up and down my body and motioned for me to follow as he turned and headed out the entry door. Outside he pointed out a bench right outside the security office. He rejoined the other guard just inside the door, and I was certain from their reactions both of the security guys remembered me now.
I sat there pulling my dress down over my knees, closing my sweater tighter, and trying not to make eye contact as they would come in and out among the customers. Each time they passed they would give me this big grin. Nothing could be more embarrassing.
A big shadow came over me. The big black supervisor was standing right in front of me. I was in such a daze I had not seen him walking up. I glanced up. He was even bigger and blacker than I remembered. I could not look at his face.
He spoke with control,
“Hello. My guard told me you want to see me?”
“Yes, please.”
I mumbled without looking up.
“Come in here.”
He turned unlocked the door and I followed him into the security office. He shut the door, bolted it and pointed to the chair where I had sat over two months ago. I elected to stand. He went over to stand at the desk. He was so formal. He had not even acknowledged he knew me.
I could say nothing for a moment. I just stood there looking at the wall behind him.
He finally felt uneasy enough to say something,
“It’s Caroline, right?”
I nodded.
“I thought I would never see you again.”
He said stiffly.
I could tell he was very nervous. No smile. He just stood there as far away as the little office permitted.
He said nothing more. We both seemed to just look past one another.
Finally, I summoned all my courage and looked straight at him,
“I’m pregnant!”
I felt uncontrolled tears flow down my face. I swiped at them with the back of my hand.
He took a step toward me. His face grimaced,
“No shit; what makes you think that? Have you taken the test?”
“I know so.”
“Have, you been to the doctor?”
“No, but I know.
It has been over two months. I have not had my period. I have been nauseous and my breasts are bigger and very tender. I am pregnant.”
His expression went absolutely blank. He turned and took a step toward the door reaching for the doorknob. Was he was just going to open it and tell me to get out? I could tell he was panicked. He froze for a long time before he turned back to me. He said nothing. He looked like a caged animal. He turned back toward the door again, reached for the handle again, and then hesitated and turned back slowly.
Anger filled his face,
“So you think you’re pregnant. Well if you are; all I can say is that’s what you get for being stupid. You were the dumbass that shoplifted, not me. I hate to say that you got what you had coming. That was a major felony and you got off. You were the dumb one that stole the shit, not me. You got off without even a rap on the knuckles?”
He was just rattling wildly, talking so bluntly scaring me badly.
I just stood and looked at him. I was shaking dreadfully.
He turned toward the door and once again I sensed he was going to open it and tell me to get the hell out.
“Lady that was felony shoplifting, remember? You were the little tramp that took the shit. You got off without a blemish on your record…no cops, no court, no lawyers, and no jail. I think you got off light.”
I had actually started to cry. Through my sobs I said,
“Sir, please stop scolding me. I know all that. I need help. I am completely alone in this. I have no one to help me unless you do. Can’t you see?”
He stopped and stood a long time with his back toward me. Finally, he slowly turned. His expression had changed completely. My plea had really stuck home.
For the first time I saw concern in his face. The anger had drained completely and been replaced by a much kinder expression. He spoke softly,
“Yea, I understand. When we caught you, I thought you were just another of those wild ass girls that do that stuff for thrills, but now I know you’re not. I can see where you sure need help now, but what the fuck can I do?”
He looked at me and collapsed in the chair at the desk. I could see sweat on his forehead. He just sat looking at me saying nothing. We had reached a complete impasse.
I had not threatened him. I did not need to, and besides, I just knew a threat would not help with this guy. He was way too proud.
He had not accused me of doing anything with someone else. He knew me too well by now. He knew I was a virgin when he took me, and how important the whole sex thing was to me.
Finally, it just seemed like I had to say something. What really did I expect him do?
Slowly I reviewed my plight. The summary was more for me than him,
“Sir, I really need someone to help me. I am pregnant. I have to solve this somehow. Think about how horrible this is for me. I have no one else to turn to.”
He sat expressionless looking through me to the wall. He would not even focus on me; not a word. Was he scared, was he angry?
He probably wasn’t worried about me; more likely he was worried about himself. If my plight became known to his management, he would get fired for sure. If I had the baby he could be held legally liable for support. He had to recognize now that this pregnancy could affect his life as well as mine.
He seemed to be in deep thought for a long time. Finally he reached across the desk, picked up the phone and made an extended call: then another, then a third. I could hear little of what he was saying, but by his expression I judged he was making progress with something. It was the first encouragement I had had in weeks.
It had been at least twenty minutes when he finished his last call and sort of smiled. I could see relief on his face.
He looked up still holding the idle phone,
“Caroline, I think help is on the way.”
“One of my guards always seems to have an answer. He knows a guy in the stock room who in turn knows a guy who can deal with things like this. I wanted to get all the middle men out of it so I asked for the outsider’s number and called him directly. It’s going to take a few minutes but he is coming over here to meet you and talk.”
For a few minutes he went on with a few more sketchy details. He had pulled in some “markers” is how he described it. I was going to meet a guy named Bobby, who would be here in about thirty minutes. Bobby had connections with a Doctor who handled this kind of stuff. The Doctor could provide whatever I needed. The whole thing was safe but it would be expensive.
He paused. I hesitated,
“I have some money, but I could not come up with a lot without someone at home knowing.”
I offered, not knowing anything else to say.
We sat looking at one another. His expressions had softened to the point of almost “friendly”.
He spoke much more softly,
“Well let’s not worry about money right now. We can work that out I am sure.”
I could tell he was very pleased he had come up with something that might help me.
He went over to sit in the chair behind the desk. I went over to sit on the straight plastic chair by the wall. We both seemed to just stare off into space. Everything went quiet. Time slowed to a creep. This was going to be a long thirty minutes for sure.
Neither of us said a thing. He looked at the far corner of the room: I looked down at my lap.
As time passed my crazy mind started to go into overtime.
This strange fortitude came over me, an artificial bravery; it grew strong and stronger as I sat thinking about all that was going on. Envisioning I could see light at the end of the tunnel somehow emboldened me.
So this room was the torture chamber that had entered my nightmares every night all summer. It was really just small, blue, and plain. Almost like a jail cell. What a terrible place to work day after day for your entire life.
So this was the big black monster that was at the center of my every nightmare. He did not look at all scary any more. He looked worried and concerned. Sure he was big and black and bald, but not so scary any more.
In a strange way he had been a victim that day as much as me. He was the victim of my short skirt. I was wearing the wrong thing. He never would have done what he did if I had been dressed otherwise. He lost control and put his freedom and his precious job in jeopardy. Had I not been wearing that skirt, he probably would have simply called the police.
I was the felon. My shoplifting had caused everything, but what he did was very unethical and illegal. We were both so guilty, we both contributed to this mess, but only one of us was pregnant.
I looked down at my lap. He for sure would not have done it if I had looked the way I did now. This dress, unbelted, not only covered my tummy, but it really made me look like a frump. It hung loose on me everywhere. I looked like one of those fat pregnant ladies we amigos kidded about—all I needed was a shopping cart to push…and a black baby to tow.
SOLUTION
Everything went absolutely quiet. I sat very straight with my legs crossed and my skirt pulled down over them as far as possible.
Not a word, nor a glance, was exchanged between us. Time slowed to a creep. It seemed like we were going to wait forever. Our exchange had been so emotional I felt exhausted, but this quiet was almost unbearable. I needed something to be happening.
For unknown reasons, my mind wandered from the day of terror to those erotic fantasies I had been having every night in bed. This was the place where it started—over there sat the monster that started it. Neither looked all that scary any more.
I was deep in thought. I absently looked down, placed my hand on my thigh, and moved my skirt up just an inch or so. It was the first move I had made. I did it without thinking. I never worn skirts this long. I am just not used to looking frumpy.
A strange feeling shot through me. It was like an “oh, oh”. What did I do?
I glanced over at him and for the first time he was looking directly at me. His face was awash in emotion. Immediately, I realized my movement had been read as suggestive.
He slowly looked up and down my body. I had never seen anything like it. The expression on his face said it all. For the first time, right in that instant, I completely understood why he did what he did to me. He had intended just to humiliate me terribly. He intended to treat me like a little child. I don’t think he ever intended to even swat my butt. He just wanted me to be scared, very scared and then he was going to send me on my way. But…
Unfortunately, the way I looked that day took him over the top. He lost it. All those many times I had dressed to flirt, and torture the boys at the mall, caught up with me that day in this office. I had dressed to tease the boys one too many times. Now he hated himself for what he did.
But now just looking across the room at him I could tell I had stirred up the same animalistic passion that took control of him that day.
What power I had over this man. I watched a strange emotion fill his eyes. It was almost a loving expression.
“Caroline you will never understand how I regret all this. What I did was so wrong. I have spent endless hours worrying about you and wishing like hell it had never happened. What I did was horribly unprofessional and I have beaten myself up ever since. I feel terrible.
I understand your plight very well. This is terrible and all the racial issues make it even worse. I can see why I am the only guy you thought you could turn to. What a mess.
I don’t know this Bobby, but the guys in the back assure me he will solve this. I am relieved. I am confident we can work this all out.”
I looked at him.
Dear reader as I did, the strangest thoughts came over me.
Numerous emotions;
…euphoria that I finally had support
…the possibility I now had a solution.
…a completely different understanding of this little room where it all started
…a new understanding of the how it all happened and the shared guilt
…an overwhelming curiosity about my reactions to what he did to me.
I had to admit, what happened that day in this office caused erotic responses within me that I did not understand; responses that scared me terribly. I tried to deny them, but they came into my head every night in bed and often in an idle moment during the day.
And now, I had been idle too long. Those sensual desires were overtaking me just sitting here looking at the man that did it to me. I could not believe what was going on inside me. I should hate him, nothing less.
The tension in the room was unbearable. The door was bolted, the cameras were off and we just sat not saying a word. I looked like an old lady in this outfit and yet there was no question, every time I moved, his eyes moved with me. Eyes filled with undeniable desire. For the first time in my life a man “knew” me emotionally and sexually. He knew my body and he knew my inner reactions that day. He so obviously was caught up in this complicated relationship as much as me.
As is sat there I began to wonder; what had he been fanaticizing about at night in his bed while I had been tossing and turning with thoughts of him? Each time I glanced at him I came away with the same message…ME!
What power I now had over this big man. That day he had been in charge but now I was in the driver’s seat.
As the clock ticked slowly, this erotic feeling consumed me. That day it had been the ultimate terror of my life, but now I had a completely new understanding of the events, the man, and the terror. I needed to revisit those events with this new clarity.
In a strange way this black man had been the ultimate “young boy in the mall” that day he took me. What was Caroline really looking for all those many times she had dressed seductively to parade at the mall? A strange thrill; she got a thrill from teasing the boys…the thrill of control, as she used her young sexuality to take charge of them. Let’s admit it; it was a thrill to tease those guys until they wanted to cry, all the time just dangling bait. It was a cheap thrill that came at their expense.
What was less obvious was that with each of the many trips to the mall, the desire for thrills grew, but the foolish “parade” with the amigos did less to satisfy what had become a craving. A unrequited addiction to “thrill”.
Caroline had really shoplifted for only one reason, more thrills. She had unconsciously gone after the thrill of stealing…doing the unlikely, doing the unthinkable.
Along with everything else that happened during the afternoon of terror that resulted, this man had turned that addiction for “thrill” into unmitigated uncontrollable lust.
I turned in my chair to look more directly at him. His expression responded immediately. Everything welled up in me. This long idle period, sitting, waiting, had been too much. I shook with nervous energy.
I got up as if driven by some controlling force and walked over to reach for his hand. He sat frozen.
His hand was wet with perspiration and shaking. As he stood, I could see an enormous bulge in his uniform pants. All my intuition was correct. Frumpy or not this man…
“Oh!”
That was all I got to say as he hugged me to him, turned me around and put me over the desk. He positioned me just as I had been two months ago, lifted my skirt over my back, and slid my panties to the floor. I was in exactly the same place and the same position as before, but this time there was no protest. My legs parted. I felt the same pressure as before, but this time he entered without pain. I lay on my tummy, my chin on the surface and he simply worked his way firmly into me. I was overcome with a string of wild sensations way down deep within my body as he took me. These feeling caused me to move backward to receive him. This created even more erotic responses.
He reached under me and took my breasts in both hands as before.
His lips came down to kiss my neck below my right ear,
“Girl, you will never know the conflict you have created…how many nights I have tossed and turned with the vision of you in this position driving me wild.”
With that he went silent and gently began to move within me. Moments later, he came delivered just like before. He sent surge after surge deep into me; but this time I met each with a reaction deep inside and a loving murmur that confirmed all those night time fantasies were real.
I was overcome with the sexual need, a lust that was born that frightening day right here beneath him. A desire I had tried so hard to hide ever since. It was a lust that was so real and yet so denied. I now understood it and my movements assured he now understood it as well.
Finished, he stood up and lifted me into an upright position with my back against him. My skirt fell back into place. I was shaking from head to foot. He had finished.
I came back to my senses. So much had been explained. My need for thrills had been fully answered. I quickly became the “good girl” again. During the strange circumstance with this man that day had I had found two things…internal lust which answered my need for thrills. I was not a promiscuous tramp in any way. I was a young woman with needs that had been answered.
My panties were still on the floor.
He kicked them over toward the waste basket and wrapped his arms around me. His lips found the back of my head,
“Caroline, I…”
There was a knock at the door.
Leaving me standing there, leaning backward against the desk in shock, he walked over to the door opened it and a tall black guy walked in. Clearly he had been outside the door waiting.
I sat back on the edge of the desk to recover. I reached down on either side of me and gripped the desk top for support. I could feel spasms throughout my lower body and moisture.
My panties were over in the corner on the floor still in plain sight.
The guard closed the door for a moment and shook hands with the stranger,
“You must be Bobby, glad you’re here. This is Caroline.”
He sort of pointed at me across the room without looking.
“She needs to talk with you.”
He turned to face me for a moment,
“Here is the fellow they tell me has the answers for you. I’ll leave you two to talk.”
He gazed at me across the room with a very distant look. His face was filled with emotion; like he wanted to stay and be of help, but there was no role for him here.
“I’ll work out details with him after you two are done discussing things.”
With a strange backward glance he walked out.
PAYMENT BEGINS
As soon as the guard was gone, Bobby locked the door and turned toward me. Without a word he came across the room toward the desk. When he got to me he took my hands up from the desk on either side and stood directly in front of me looking into my eyes with a most salacious grin. He reached down, moved my knees apart, and moved between them to get as close to me as he could. I was shaking. He had not said a word, but I knew what was up. There was no question he knew what had been going on in here. He had been right outside the door.
He stood there, grinning, looking down without a word. Finally, I just blurted out,
“No please. I cannot do this! I am not this type of girl! That was all just a mistake.”
He backed up a little and stood there for a moment, looking down at me with an even bigger smile,
“Sweetheart, you may not want me to think you are this “type” of girl, but from what I heard in here you sure are. I think you are the “type” girl that just got fucked in here real good—and you are the “type” that’s been fucked before and got all knocked up—and you are the “type” that wants me to help, right?”
He looked at me, waiting for a reply,
“Right?” he repeated.
I nodded, yes.
“Sweetheart, just to get things started the way I want, I like to hear your voice when I ask a question, understand?
You do want my help with this, right?”
Such humiliation,
“Yes.”
I whispered.
He stepped back further, holding my hands higher and looked up and down my body,
“Wow, you are some kind of cute. You’re just the “type” I like. Somebody did you real good, honey. They got you blooming sweetly.
They told me in the back, you got caught shoplifting and agreed to fuck your way out of it, rather than go to jail; right?”
I nodded yes again.
“What was that?”
He asked,
“Yes”
I whispered even more softly.
His grinned, still holding my hand high as his eyes never left me,
“Well, you sure won that one. You’re not in jail and you’re looking good, looking real good.
I guess that boss guy must be the nigger that mounted you. He seems to be in charge. He tells me you would be in big trouble at home if they knew about this and he wants me to get things worked out for you. I agreed to get you through all this as long as you do a few things along the way to help out. Understood?”
I nodded,
“Yes.”
“So if that’s the way it is, those things start right now. If he and I are going to share this problem, we are going to share everything and everything includes you. Understand?”
I went quiet. There was nothing to say, nothing I could do.
I nodded.
He moved toward me and I went over backward onto the desk. He lifted the front of my skirt. I knew my bare sex was completely displayed. He looked down at me on the edge of the desk spread helpless in front of him and stepped forward to separate my legs.
He just stood there between my thighs, smiling, looking at me for what seemed like forever. My body was responding out of control. I could feel moisture everywhere, eyes, breasts, and my thighs.
“That is one gorgeous snatch lover. That bastard was one lucky nigger. He sure nailed a pretty one. Was he your first nigger?
I looked at him and whispered,
“Yes” He was my first.”
He looked down in my face and smiled broadly,
“Well lover, I don’t know if I believe that, but it don’t matter, I guarantee you, he aint going to be your last; right?”
I looked up and nodded.
He went silent.
Slowly, he reached down, spread my legs very wide, and left me in that position as he stepped back to open his pants. All the time, his gaze moved constantly up and down, from my lower body up to my eyes.
Unlike before, this time I could see everything. I was on my back on the desk propped up a bit on my elbows. He was enormous, black, and long; with a red bulbous end. I watched as it approached my white completely exposed body and disappeared into my very wet vagina. There was no pain; in fact I could feel its warmth as it moved smoothly, but firmly, deep inside me. It felt like silk.
I responded with an involuntary shudder and he came down to consume my mouth. His weight took me backward down onto the desk and my arms spread outward.
His rhythm started right away. He was surprisingly gentle. He just leaned over me. Both his feet and mine were still on the floor. I was on my back on the desk which brought my pelvis firmly up against him. His hands move up around my head and into my hair. He pressed downward moving me toward him to the very edge of the desk. He stroked into me with long, deep, gentle strokes. Time seemed to be lost.
He stroked deeper and deeper but so gently. I cannot tell you how long he sexed me.
I remember at some point he started to reach very sensitive places deep inside me and an uncontrolled moan escaped my lips.
He lifted and grinned down at me with a scandalous look,
“Hey baby, what’s that I hear? I think you the “type” that really likes fucking Bobby.”
He chuckled and moved in solidly against me, while still looking down at me, expectantly.
I involuntarily moaned again.
He stayed in that position moving about, experimenting, until he was firmly rubbing those places with each move he made. Then he settled back down and returned to work deep into my vagina now firmly reaching those sensitive places with each stroke.
We had become very warm. He was perspiring. I could feel his moisture combining with mine between us. He was driving me out of my mind.
At some point, I remember my body started moving upward to meet each of his thrusts. He was moving hard against me at the time, so it may have been for protection, or it may have been to help assure he found those places deep within.
He rose slightly again,
“I think this big black dick is driving you crazy little girl. Am I right? “
He looked down at me.
Finally, a dark expression came over his black face,
“Listen bitch, this nigger spoke to you.”
When I ask a question, I want an answer.
This black dick is sort of driving the girl wild, right?”
He hesitated still looking directly into my face.
I looked up and for the first time admitted the truth to myself and then to him.
“Yes.”
He thrust into me firmly,
“Yes what, sweetheart?”
He hesitated there firmly against my sensitive places.
“I like this dick.”
“What type of a dick is it you like, lover?”
“I like your type dick.”
I answered softly.
“What’s that big dick doing lover?”
“It’s driving me crazy.”
“That’s my “type” of girl. Here you can have it all again.”
With that, he moved down and returned to stroking deeply into me.
I moaned and my arms came up to surround him.
That was all it took, without another word he delivered. Fifteen long strokes; I counted them and with each stroke I felt the surge of his warm semen and a responding contraction deep within me. My body was arching upward and tightening around him with each surge, and each time it caused me to shudder with an uncontrolled response. Each time I shuddered he would respond with another stroke and another deposit.
Then one final deep thrust and he collapsed onto me. He was as deep as he could get.
After sometime he gently began to lift up and withdraw, but to my surprise I was holding him down tightly. Somewhere in the process my arms had tightened around his neck and my body had constricted holding him tightly down there as well. He couldn’t move.
Shocked and embarrassed, I let go of him and struggled to stop the contractions. But, as he began to withdraw an empty feeling swept over me. My vagina would not stop tightening around him. I shuddered from head to toe and pulled him back toward me, waiting for my body to release him.
Bobbie grinned down at me.
“Oh my, baby! We like that, don’t we girl?”
He rested there a moment and then just started to ramble,
“Girl, you got some very special things going on in there. You really need the loving. You know being preggo is just going to make you wilder every day. You get real happy right now, understand? Bobby has ways to work this all out. Ways that will keep you a happy lady, for sure. I’ll make sure everything is ok for you.”
I lay on my back on the desk, exhausted, as he put things away slowly and then helped me to my feet. My dress fell back into place and I reached up to straighten my hair a bit. As my arms went upward to reach my hair another convulsion passed through my lower body. I shook all over.
My body was adjusting to what happened. Repeated contractions were securing everything assuring I was going to keep everything that had been put deep within me.
I walked over to get my panties. They were missing. I turned looking for them.
Bobbie had moved to the desk chair where he sat watching my unstable walk and smiling,
“You’re one good looking fine lover, little girl. It’s going to be good working together…do you agree?”
I nodded.
He grinned again,
“Baby, Bobby just spoke to you. When this nigger speaks he wants none of this head shaking shit. You understand. I want to hear your lovely voice.”
In my mind, I could still feel him buried in me, still feel my reactions; still feel his lips around mine.
“We’re going to have fun working together; right?”
I looked up at him directly.
“Yes.”
My voice was so clear and precise I surprised myself.
Without another word, Bobby turned his attention to the desk as he wrote on a note pad. Finished, he laid it on the desk and stood up to wrap me in an embrace. His tongue parted my lips and I moaned loudly as an undeniable passion coursed through me.
His kiss locked to me as he backed me toward the desk, and came over me. I arched backward onto the desk with my feet on the floor as before. He released the kiss and stepped back. I lifted my skirt, as he undid his pants. He came toward me and I lifted to receive him. I was surprisingly tight. He entered me firmly, and I immediately climaxed as I had never climaxed in all my dreams. I shook from head to toe. I grabbed for his neck and buried my tongue in his mouth.
Five long strokes into my body and he unloaded deep in me again.
Finished for the second time, he kissed me, stood up, and helped me back to my feet. My skirt fell back into place. He hugged me almost childlike and then stepped back with a warm smile. He zipped up all the time smiling at me,
“We are both the same “type” for sure, Caroline. You and I are going to get on fine. We’re going to make this an adventure for sure.”
A strange euphoria overtook me.
I looked directly at him.
“Thank you for everything.”
He smiled, kissed me directly on the lips, hugged me tightly, turned and went out the door.
I was alone in the security office.
It took several minutes for me to get gathered together. My panties were gone. My hair was a mess. I worked briefly to straighten my baggy dress. I felt damp down below but very good. No pain, just a surprising sensitivity, and a definite new mysterious yearning…almost loneliness.
I went over to the desk to get the note.
It told me where my Doctor appointment would be. I was to be there tomorrow night. My euphoria turned to outright joy. The solution was in my hand.
The Mallmart was very busy. The security supervisor was right outside the little office, but he only got a glance as frumpy me with my hair in all direction headed out to the parking lot. I didn’t care about a thing. I was walking on air.
My Mustang ran smoother. My heart was so much lighter. There was light at the end of the tunnel for Caroline. I knew there were ways to resolve this. I had looked everything up on the PC. I had a Doctor now. I had an appointment. I knew it was expensive, but I had that covered too. I had the support of that security guard and I had a new friend in Bobby.
I could have kissed that big black security guy for getting this all set up, but then the wild thought crossed my mind…I had kissed him ROYALLY. Not only did I still carry the result of his first “kiss” within me, but now I was carrying even more of him in my body as well. That man had been well “kissed”.
Interesting, as I drove along a strange thought came into my mind. Why did they not let me wear my panties home? Then a light bulb came on…evidence! A woman in Washington proved that evidence lasts a lot longer on clothing.
But even without the panties this time I was not making a mess. I had just had sex with two guys, both climaxed deep inside me several times, but my body had firmly retaining everything somewhere deep within me. Sure I could feel dampness, but it was under control, not all over the seat. I was not setting in a pool.
Strange things were happening within my body and my mind.
As I drove the slightest movement of my legs sent a hollow feeling into my lower tummy. It was this new yearning. A physical sensation down there which confirmed all the new found contradictions I was experiencing were not just mental aberration.
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Reall Great