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“Don’t you. . . don’t you touch me with . . . oh, don’t!”
Carrie Winslow backed away from the big man, her eyes wide with terror. One hand was at her throat while the other stretched behind her.
“Come on, Carrie. I’ve been watchin’ you for a long time. Man, you got a cute set of tight buns, and the way you wag them around. . . shit, you wanna get fucked bad, baby.”
She was alone. . . alone and helpless in her own home!
Carrie’s mother was a night clerk at the county hospital downtown, having had to take that job to support herself and her teenaged daughter after her husband’s sudden death.
“Stop it! STOP IT!” the girl shrieked, clapping her hands over her ears. Her mother had told her about the evils of sex, about. . . fucking. Only married people did that. Shrinking back from the big man’s grasp, Carrie looked around wildly, trying to determine which, if any, were the best escape routes.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.