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The runaway girl – a label for thousands of girls in a hundred cities who have left home for one reason: unhappiness. They may be fatherless, homeless or lonely; they may be daughters of the rich, the poor, the middle class; yet, their common bond is a search for tomorrow’s joy and leaving today’s misery.
The question herein is not the reasons why they left but where they go. What destiny is in store for the Levi-clad hippie girl? What’s the next stop for the amateur ingenue with star dust in her eyes?
The answer for many of these wayward girls is what Lyn Holmes found in R#PED RUNAWAY — happiness, the kind of happiness usually called shameful by scores of whistle-stop towns. But it’s still a heaven as compared to the hell she left behind.
R#PED RUNAWAY — a timely novel of today’s girl on the run.
“Please, mister, don’t hurt me,” Lyn Holmes said to the man who was about to lower his naked body to hers. The man paused, his throbbing cock wedged between the lips of her young cunt, and looked at her.
Lyn was worth looking at. Tall, supple, with good tits-firm, high-set mounds, with large red circles at the center of the white abundance, circles centered on stiffened nipples. Her body tapered down to a small waist, then flared out into generous hips. As his eyes slid lower, they took in the thicket of russet cunt hair that began below her navel and swept down her body, into the undercurve of her torso. Lyn’s legs were even better than the rest of her, but he couldn’t see all of them, since they were in the shadows.
“You’re not going to tell me you’re a virgin, are you?” he asked.
She hadn’t acted like a virgin. He’d picked her up along the highway several hours earlier, given her a ride and shelter from the storm that was intensifying in power outside at that very moment.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.
Note: This story is the same as catalog number AB-5069 in the original publications (a duplicate).