Mom and her dog

CHAPTER ONE

"You're not gonna let him fuck you, are you, Traci?"

"Emily Grabble, don't you ever say anything like that to me again!"

The lithe, young blonde tilted her chin up defiantly, staring at her good friend through narrowed eyes. She didn't like to hear that word. It made her nervous, unsettling her ordered mental image of both herself and her surrounding world. The two girls were sitting on a large multi-colored beach blanket, watching the high surf smash onto Venice Beach while the sun began to settle behind the ocean. A few male joggers trudged nearby, their heads turned toward the two attractive young women.

"I don't see why you're so bent out of shape," Emily said defensively, brushing back several strands of her black hair the wind had blown in her face. The scent of the damp, salt air was pleasant, even mildly exciting. A fine spray from the surf coated their flesh. Neither wanted to leave the beach. But the conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn for Traci. She was thinking of cutting their day short and packing up. She didn't want to hear about boys all the time, about what they did in the back seats of cars. Her mother had told her all about that. That was exactly how Traci was born and why her father left. Illegitimate! The word stung her pride even now. No, she wasn't going to get in the same position as her mother.

"I just don't like to talk about… about that sort of thing," Traci said hurriedly, her face growing tight and prim. She stared at the rolling sea, then leaned back, watching several sea gulls wheel overhead, squawking to one another in their continual search for food. The sun felt good and warm on her legs and belly. She closed her eyes and let out a long, low sigh. Why couldn't life be this simple? Why did… sex have to rear its ugly head?

"Well, you're going to have to sooner or later. It might as well be with a friend," Emily sniffed, searching in her beach bag for a mirror. "Oh God, the sun's done a number on my face! What's Billy going to think about it?" she said, her forehead wrinkled with worry. Traci watched as Emily tried smoothing back her frizzled hair, then gave up in despair.

"You're always primping. I don't see why," Traci said, shrugging as she began gathering up her belongings.

"And you're not? I see the way you try fixing yourself up whenever Greg's around," Emily countered. Traci dropped her eyes, feeling a flash of excitement rush through her pussy at the mention of the basketball player's name. Her fingers trembled slightly as she slipped a shirt over her naked shoulders. Wearing a skimpy bikini as the air chilled wasn't such a great idea.

"I… I do not…"

"Don't lie to me, Traci," Emily said, hooking onto her friend's discomfort and smiling nastily. "You keep meeting him in the halls. He likes you, Traci. Why don't you let him… go all the way. I said before you shouldn't let him fuck you. But now I'm not so sure. Maybe that'll loosen you up."

Traci flushed beet red, her eyes rounding as she stared angrily at her friend.

"And I suppose you're the great expert on the subject? How many boys have you… you fucked?"

The word rolled off her tongue, piercing the air like acid. She was surprised how her flesh shivered with excitement when she pronounced that word. Fuck. How strange a word could have that kind of power!

"That's my business… if I've fucked any, that is," Emily said cagily. "I don't see why I should tell you anything if you don't listen to my advice."

"And what's that? To wind up the town whore?" Traci retorted, almost shouting. The wind rose, blowing her hair in front of her face. The surf was rising already while thickly piled cumulus clouds scudded across the darkening sky. A thick fog promised to settle over Venice and Santa Monica soon.

"I didn't mean that," Emily said, lowering her eyes. She knew why Traci was so paranoid about sex… the whole neighborhood knew the story about her mother. But no one talked about it, everyone liking Traci's mom and her efforts at trying to build a good present and future for her daughter and herself. "I just meant that you're too uptight. Everyone can see you tensing when a guy comes near you. You have to relax, be natural. You can have fun with 'em without going all the way."

Traci sighed, rolling up her blanket and stuffing it in her bag.

"Men just want one thing," Traci retorted. "They just want to slide up between your legs. Then they'll go away and… and…" She couldn't finish. Tears started welling up in her eyes. She turned from her friend, brushing more hair from her eyes, watching the Pacific turn a dark luminous green while whitecaps began to appear out in the bay.

"I've gotta go to the john. I'll be right back," Emily said, scrambling to her feet. She knew the conversation had gone as far as it could.

Traci watched her retreating friend, then turned and resumed her contemplation of the harbor. Men, she thought gloomily. The way Emily was talking, the way she was primping, it was just as if she were getting ready to get fucked. Traci sucked in her breath in dismay at having used that dirty word again. She had promised herself never to use words like that… promised both herself and her mother.

Why can't I stop thinking those words? the girl thought in a moment of self truth, covering her face with both hands and leaning forward. It was true. For all her propriety in public Traci was feeling forces at work inside her she couldn't understand. I'm not going to give into it, Traci said, rocking back and forth in her self-imposed darkness. But how strong those forces were, making her pussy so hot and moist when she lay alone in her bed. And when Traci tried closing her eyes she thought of Greg or indeed any young man, wondering what he looked like naked, wondering what his body felt like. Her hands fluttered over her moist pussy mound then, brushing the feathery curls aside and pulling apart the swollen cuntlips. The slick clicking of her fingers rubbing in and out of her hole cut through the night air as she masturbated to relieve the pulsing tension. When she came, the feeling was frighteningly overpowering. Was that what she'd feel when she was married and her husband went to bed with her? Would it be stronger? The girl had to stuff her whitened knuckles in her mouth to keep from crying out.

"Alone?"

The sudden intrusion of a human voice in her reverie made the girl jump. Traci dropped her hands and jerked her head around.

"I… uh, no. My girlfriend's around," Traci stammered, looking around for Emily. Where was she?

"That's all right. I'll keep you company. The beach isn't too safe, especially right now."

"That's all right… I…"

But the young man wouldn't take no for an answer. Frantically Traci searched the darkening beach for her friend. But Emily still hadn't emerged from the bathroom some hundred feet away.

"Nice… nice."

Traci's scalp crinkled with terror as she folded her arms over her tits, trying to hide as much of her body as she could. Turning, the blonde teen studied the man sitting next to her. There was no doubt he was handsome, tall, someone that made heat concentrate in the furry bundle between her legs. She felt her pussy swell as his eyes narrowed, studying her as she studied him. The sounds of his breathing sent jolts of terror mixed with something like hope racing through her mind. In a perverted instant the girl wished Emily weren't coming back. The wind picked up, blowing her hair around her neck. Her flesh puckered up into goosepimples. Traci stirred, reaching in her beach bag and pulling out her towel. She draped it over her shoulders, spotting Emily now.

"Oh, there's my friend," she said. Traci felt a wave of relief rush through her mind. Further down, she wasn't so glad. Her body had seemed to melt, to deflate. Her tits lost their tingle and her cunt closed up tight under the tangled thicket of hair.

"Too bad," the young man murmured, his smile fading a little. He reached down, scratching his crotch. Traci's eyes raced to his cock in spite of her resolve to look the other way. In the dim light she could see he was well endowed, the tight-fitting material of his white bathing suit showing off his prick and balls. His black hair hung rakishly over his forehead. Scratching a neatly trimmed beard and mustache the young man tucked his legs under him and started to stand up. "Well, I'm down here on the beach a lot. Just give a whistle."

Give a whistle? Traci's face darkened. Just what kind of girl did he think she was? She wasn't the usual kind of beach bitch hanging out in Venice.

"Hi, Don. You two met?"

Emily knew him? Of course. She would. She seemed to know everyone around town.

"Yeah… kinda met," he said, his attitude a little stiff toward her. Emily looked first at one, then the other, then smirked. She knew what had probably passed. Sighing, she reassured the young man that once he got to know Traci he'd like her.

"Anyway," Emily said, picking up her things and looking uneasily at the sky, "I'm glad you're here. It's awfully dark and I don't want to walk home alone."

That was one thing Traci agreed with. She'd been hearing about all the rapes and beatings going on around Venice lately. Some girls were found tucked under the pier in the morning, their bodies beaten and actually branded! Police were baffled, warning young women not to be on the beach after dark.

"We live close to each other toward Lincoln Boulevard. Come on," Emily said, helping Traci roll up the blanket.

The blonde tried to keep her eyes from meeting Don's. She was sure he was laughing at her. They'd probably have a lot of chuckles about her stand-offish attitude after she left. Oh, how she wished she'd handled herself a little better. Don hadn't really done anything offensive. He was trying to be friendly. And certainly Traci couldn't claim she hadn't lead him on – what with her skimpy bathing suit and all. Staring at him from the corners of her eyes she studied his massive chest, his well-developed pecs, his rounded, smooth biceps and triceps. There didn't seem to be an ounce of fat on him. Curly hair covered his chest and parts of his upper arms like a carpet. Everything about him radiated masculinity. She wondered how Emily knew someone obviously much older than she.

"Where does he come from?" Traci whispered as Don moved to his blanket to pick up his things.

"Funny, I didn't seem him there. Oh, he worked with my father on a couple of construction jobs in Glendale last year. My dad likes him. He comes over a lot. Isn't he fantastic?" Emily asked, giggling while nudging her friend.

"I think he's stuck on himself," Traci sniffed, feeling a hot, tight sensation buckle the walls of her hot cunt. She wondered how he would looked naked, that hairy, muscular body wriggling over hers. It was something that took the breath from her.

"Okay, girls!"

Traci turned, but not before she looked at his crotch again. She saw the outline of his cock bulging outward against the sheer material of his bathing suit. It was obscene! Men shouldn't be allowed to wear thing silk that unless they wore jockstraps underneath. Traci thanked God it was dark. At least they wouldn't have to put up with stares from passers-by.

"Look!" Emily said.

Traci's eyes moved to the right. She saw five or sex young men in t-shirts and Levi's leaning against the front wall of John Barleycorn's, a beer biker bar on Washington and Ocean Front Walk. Both girls felt a little nervous as they passed twenty feet in front of the place. It was Don's presence, Traci was sure, that kept the men at bay. But she could feel their eyes burn through her clothing as she walked quietly with the other two. One young man she spotted was rubbing his prick, giving her a look at its long hard outline. Traci felt a double jolt hit her. Don's presence had made her jumpy. And now this animal was almost exposing himself to her. She dropped her eyes, staring at the beach, quickening her pace.

"Whew! That's a tough group there," Emily said.

"Yeah. The cops say they can't get anything on 'em. But they're sure those guys are part of the trouble around the beach," Don said, glancing back as they turned onto Venice Boulevard.

"Who are they?" Traci asked, aware of Don's lingering stare. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he purposely coming on to her when he knew she wouldn't do anything.

"They call themselves the Huns… a good name for 'em. They used to be outta Santa Rosa. They've been hanging around Venice for the past month or so. Seems like everything in California winds up in Venice sooner or later," Don said sullenly.

None of them spoke too much on the way east to Lincoln Boulevard.

"Well, someone's home. Why don't you two come in for awhile," Emily asked as they stopped in front of her home.

"I'd better not. My mom's going to be worried if I don't…" Traci began.

"Oh, Traci! Well, goodnight, Don," Emily said, hugging the big man playfully. Traci looked the other way. It was shameful the way her friend threw herself at men. If she could only see how cheap she looked doing that!

They left Emily running up the front walk. Traci felt suddenly vulnerable, alone. Of course, that was foolish. Don turned out to be a perfect gentleman, someone trusted by Emily's mother and father. Still…

"Oh!"

Traci stopped in front of her house. Every window was dark. Of course! This was Wednesday night. Her mother wouldn't be home until eleven, working late at the office. She had taken her keys, hadn't she? Desperately she searched her bag under the bright light of a streetlamp.

"Damn!"

"What's wrong?" Don asked, drawing close to her.

"My keys. I think I left my keys at home," she wailed. "Well, I guess I'll go back to Emily's. I'll wait until my mother comes home."

"Wait a sec. I'm pretty good at these sort of things," Don said.

He took her by the hand, leading the girl around to the side of the big, dark house. Traci's heart was pounding – not because they were going to break in but because Don's manner was so masterful, his grip was so sure, so firm. She watched as he studied the windows, played a little with one of them, finally jiggling one hard enough to open it.

"Come on," he whispered, half in the house, stretching out a hand to her.

Traci threw in her blanket and beach bag, following the young man in. How good it felt to be in her home, even if she had to get in through the window. It would be something she and her mother would laugh about for years to come.

"Let me get you something to drink," Traci said, throwing her articles down on the dining room floor and padding to the kitchen. Don followed, laying his things on the table.

"I think I've got some fruit juice around her somewhere," Traci said, opening the refrigerator and sticking her head in. She didn't notice at first that Don was in the kitchen. Then she felt a hand touch her ass, caressing her full, firm asscheeks. This was going too far! Whether he helped her or not, she wasn't going to put out.

"Get out!" Traci snapped, wheeling around and slamming the refrigerator door shut. The cookie jar on top wheeled around, slipping to the floor and breaking into a hundred pieces. Don's cock was hard and thick, throbbing against the white material of his suit.

"You want it," he said evenly, his eyes narrowed, his face tight and determined.

"NO! Please, no, no, no!" Traci begged, startled by her reaction to his words. He was right. She knew he was right. Her body was begging for his cockmeat.

"I saw it on the beach. If Emily hadn't come out I would've had you stretched on the beach. You want my big, fat slippery cock in your mouth. You wanna lick it off and get my cum down your throat. Go on, touch it. I ain't gonna hit you," Don said thickly.

Traci couldn't believe she was hearing him right. The words burned her brain, made her mind whirl around. He was talking like that, speaking dirty in her mother's house.

"You don't know what you're saying. Get out or I'll call the police," Traci said, starting to move toward the dining room. Don grabbed her by the waist.

"No, no, you can't," she whispered tightly.

"I can and I'm gonna. What the shit is that?" he asked, pulling away slightly. Traci heard loud barking in the backyard. Thank God, Don hadn't decided to climb the fence and try to get into the back of the house. That damned animal her mother had bought for protection was more trouble than he was worth. Traci had been against it from the start.

"Just Rex… the dog. Don't worry, he'd locked up out back. I guess my mother forgot to let him in," Traci sighed, caring nothing about the dog or her mother. She wanted Don and that was all.