I'm not dumb, and I'm not a slut. Though I can do dumb, slutty things, and have, and will certainly continue.

Have you ever noticed how sex, how being really aroused, can be like being drunk? It fucks up your head and makes you do really dumb things, because nothing matters but satisfying the pleasure you're feeling, and the hell with consequences. All that matters is right now.

When you're a girl, you get used to wearing very little around the house. That's true even if you're a tomboy and you're living with a father and three older brothers. Because they barely notice you and certainly aren't going to care what you're wearing. Well, father isn't entirely true. He's my stepfather, and they're my stepbrothers, but since I've lived with them my whole life I didn't think of them any different.

In my house, if you can call it a house, I had felt completely unappreciated since my mother had died when I was nine, and I wound up in a house with a not very sensitive, macho father who raised his sons to be the same as him. The only thing he appreciated was strength and success in sports.

Yes, of course I became a tomboy. What else was I to do? Be a girly girl? My stepfather's disdain for frilly girly things was pretty open and obvious. The only thing he thought women were good for was cleaning house and having babies. And, of course, having sex, thought I hadn't thought about that when younger.

So what was I going to do to make him proud of me? Well, nothing. I tried, don't get me wrong. What kid wouldn't? I was really good in sports, and I did my best to downplay being a girl. You wouldn't have found a lot of differences in the way I acted and the way my older brothers acted, talked, or even dressed.

But my stepfather was a big, powerful man with broad shoulders, and so were my older brothers. And they kept them that way working around the junkyard where we lived. That's right, we lived in a fucking junkyard! How's that for encouragement for a girl!?

My family were not particularly educated, but they sure knew cars and trucks and engines and small appliances. In that I became pretty much as good as my stepbrothers. Even my old man had to admit as much.

But I was still a fucking girl, so even though I could rebuild an engine I was still the one who was supposed to do the cleaning and cooking and laundry! I'd been doing them since I was about eleven, and by my eighteenth birthday, let me tell you, I was getting kind of sick of it!

My stepfather and brothers would come in from working all sweaty and shower up and then lay around watching TV while I cooked and cleaned! It wasn't like I hadn't worked all day. I worked mostly in the office keeping books and accounts, even though I would have rather worked in the garage or repair rooms.

High school had been a disaster. When you live in a junkyard, well, to say you're not going to be accepted into the 'in crowd' is a gross understatement. Add in three large, football playing older brothers who would have beat the crap out of any guy who so much as looked at me sideways and I had not enjoyed myself.

I quit at sixteen, same as them, as soon as it was legal. The only thing I needed to know was how to count and how to read and I knew them both just fine by then. So I kept books during the day, and I cleaned the damned house at night.

House? What a joke. It had been a barn once. My stepfather had 'fixed it up', which meant he'd cut windows in the walls, then added insulation and drywall on the inside, as well as cheap, laminate flooring. He'd then built rooms into it, which again, consisted of drywall and two by fours. He'd wired the place himself, so it was a wonder it hadn't burned up and killed us all.

The outside was mostly unpainted plywood with some tar-paper over it The roof was mostly tin, and leaked, and made the place hotter than hell on some days. And this luxurious manor house was placed right on the north side of a junk yard filled with cars, trucks, refrigerators, stoves, washers, dryers, dishwashers and the occasional tractor. Not to mention a big ass pile of tires.

It was three months after my eighteenth birthday and it was a hot night. I was alone in the house watching a porn movie on the satellite TV. It was about one in the morning and my brothers were all out on the town. My stepfather had gone to play poker with some friends. I hadn't dated since forever, but was feeling more and more frustrated about that.

Every time some good looking guy came in the office I felt myself undressing him with my eyes, and I'd started to masturbate more and more frequently. I didn't have any of the sex toys another girl my age might have, of course. My family had no respect for privacy and if my stepbrothers had found a dildo or a vibrator, well, let me tell you I'd never hear the end of it!

They called me slut often enough as it was. Not that they really meant it. It was just an all purpose insult to be used against any girl they were mad at. I called them assholes and morons and jerkoffs all the time too. Of course, those were a lot more accurate in my opinion.

What I did have was the small, round leg to a sofa we'd once had. It had been serving as my dildo for years. There was no question what it was. It had the small round metal tip, and it widened from there to the end, where the two inch screw pushed out from the center.

The thing I liked about it – aside from no one knowing what I used it for – was that I could easily fit it into myself and pump it in and out, and as I got more excited and pushed it deeper, it got wider and wider, until, if I got it right to the bottom, it was really thick and I'd feel my pussy stretching and stretching!

So I was taking the opportunity of being alone in the house to sit on the torn sofa and watch the Satellite TV. It was pirated, of course, so it wasn't always that clear. Tonight was good, though, and I was watching this girl, blonde like me, getting it hard from behind.

I was slumped on the sofa, my knees drawn up and spread wide. Because it was hot I was sweating a little. And I had unbuttoned my nightie and had the sofa leg about halfway into my pussy, which was wet and steamy as I pumped it gently in and out.

My nightie was really just a threadbare shirt which had once belonged to my brother Mike back when he was trying to actually wear shirts with collars. It was white with thin blue stripes, barely long enough to cover my butt, thin, and kind of tight across my chest, but who was gonna notice that?

But now it was wide open and I moaned as I slumped a little lower, panting, thrusting the chair leg deeper and deeper as I stared at the screen. I felt excited being so daring in the house. I rarely had it to myself, and to act so outrageous, to be virtually naked and masturbating in the living room thrilled some dark side of me.

I was getting more and more excited, breathing heavier, and sweating, because it was hot. I groaned as I pushed the chair leg deep, because it ached when I did that, and I liked to ache. I liked watching rough sex, hard sex, and that was what I fantasized about when I masturbated.

I was about three quarters of the way to what I was sure was going to be a really good climax, and one where for once I wouldn't have to force my lips closed to keep anyone from hearing it. I pushed the sofa leg a bit deeper and moaned as the tip touched a part of me I rarely touched. Then I felt the straining lips of my sex closing behind it, with only the screw sticking out.

And then I heard the sound of the front door closing.

I froze, for a second, then quickly jerked my shirt closed while I grabbed the remote and changed the channel!

“Who's home?” I heard my stepfather growl.

I fumbled my shirt closed as best I could as the light snapped on and he shuffled into the room. I could smell the booze on him as I stood up.

“Just watching a movie?” I said. “The guys are out.”

He grunted and looked at me oddly, then walked past me. I felt a shudder of relief that I'd gotten the shirt buttoned and the TV changed before he'd seen anything!

“You do the dishes?” he called as he flicked on the kitchen light.

I glared at him and moved that way, feeling a little odd. Like I said, the sofa leg was right up inside me! Only the screw was sticking out between my tight pussy lips. But at least that meant it wasn't in any danger of falling out.

“Of course,” I said.

“Better, or I'll tan yer ass,” he muttered under his breath.

Tanning my ass was a common threat from him, at least for me. For my brothers it was kicking their ass.

“What are you all dressed up for?” I asked, eying him as he opened the fridge.

“What? Dressed up?”

“Well, you're wearing a shirt with a collar. That's dressed up for you.”

He popped the top on a beer and took a deep swig.

“I can't wear a collar?”

“I wasn't being insulting. It looks good on you.”

It did, in fact. My stepfather was a handsome man, which was why he'd attracted my mom, I guess. He had square jawed face with full lips, and shaggy dark hair. He looked younger than he was, and he had no trouble, from what I'd overheard, attracting the ladies. But he'd never had a steady girl or anything, not since my mom.

“Thank ya, darlin,” he said.

And then he shocked me by reaching out and hooking two fingers into the front of my nightie to tug me forward. He gave me a kiss on the forehead and then waggled his eyebrows as he looked down.

“Yours looks good on you too.”

I realized then that I hadn't gotten the top button done. Well, not the top button. I never did the top button, but I hadn't gotten the second button done, and well, it was guy's shirt, a boy's shirt. It was a little long for me but I'd kind of put on a bit of a growth spurt around about sixteen and while I was slender I had nice boobs.

And with the second button down, well, I guess I was showing a little cleavage. Actually, worse than that, because my nipples were still hard and kind of poking against the thin cotton.

I blushed and crossed my arms over my chest and he laughed in amusement.

“What are you ashamed of? A guy with a big dick is never ashamed of it. Why be embarrassed you've got big tits?”

“I don't have big – !” I started hotly, even more embarrassed. “I'm not... big!”

That was important to me. I knew what he and my brothers thought of girls with big tits. They were nothing but sluts, whores, bimbos, air heads who were only built for sex.

“Look big enough to me,” he said with a grin, leaning against the fridge and taking another swig from the bottle.

I scowled, knowing he was just enjoying making me feel uncomfortable.

“D cup, right?” he said sly.

“I am not!” I said in annoyance. “I'm only a C!”

“Thirty eight I think.”

I glowered at him. “If I had a thirty-eight D cup bra laying around anywhere you can be damn sure one of the guys would have been whipping it around and making fun of me for it!”

He chuckled and sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs.

“Anyway,” I said, resenting how easily he'd gotten a rise out of me, “You shouldn't be looking there.”

“Kind of hard to miss. Oh don't get huffy. I was just teasing you, darlin'.”

“You're a dick!” I said.

It wasn't the first time I'd said that. We kind of acted like five guys around the house and in the junkyard, you see.

“Now that ain't no way to talk to your daddy,” he said. “You watch yourself or I'm gonna tan your little butt.”

I gave him the finger and started to march off to bed, but he caught me by the back of the shirt and yanked me back. I squealed, reaching behind me to jerk it down since, well, I had nothing on underneath. Next thing I know he had pulled me over his lap, kind of laughing to himself as I flailed and punched at him, or tried to.

“Let me go! Don't you dare!” I cried.

“You need to respect your elders and betters, brat,” he said.

My face flushed a hot red as I felt the hem of the shirt yanked up to bare my bottom, and a burst of energy had me kicking and twisting frantically as he laughed and then slapped his hand down on my bare ass!

Crack!

“Oww! Don't you – stop it! Let me up! Let me go! You bastard!”

Crack! Crack!

“You're really looking for a spanking, ain't you girl,” he said, his voice slurring a bit.

Fuck!

Crack!

“Ow! Fuck! Stop that! You asshole! You fucker!”

Crack!

“Oww!”

He laughed, obviously enjoying himself, and there wasn't a lot I could do. I mean, for a girl, I wasn't in bad shape at all. In fact, I was in pretty darn good shape, with a lot more strength in my body than most others because of the work I did around the garage.

But my stepfather was more than a head taller, about twice as wide, and easily twice my weight. And he was also stronger than most men. I was like a child in his arms, and the infuriating part was he was treating me like one!

“You got a nice little ass here, baby,” he said in an admiring tone I knew was meant to further taunt me.

Crack! His hand came down on it and I yelled and kicked my feet.

But all my struggles had done was kind of pull my upper half further forward so my head was almost touching the floor. It was really hard to get a punch in since I had to kind of twist and turn and reach up and back at him. Plus he was built like a damn linebacker and my fists weren't very big.

Crack! Crack!

I yelped and cursed him as he taunted me, and then he stopped, one hand on my back, the other on my thigh.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked.

I froze, and a new horrible rush of heat gripped me. My energetic movements had seemed to kind of suck the sofa leg even deeper into my body, but there was a little bit still pushing out between the lips of my sex, and I felt his finger on it now.

If it was possible to die of shame I'd have gone right then and there.

I felt him gripping the screw and pulling, and shuddered.

“Don't! Stop it! Let me go!” I cried, my voice taking on a far more desperate tone.

But he pulled it until the end of the sofa leg pushed up against the lips of my sex and then pulled it again and I gasped as I felt my pussy lips spreading and spreading wider and wider, and then it finally pulled free, and the rest of it slid slowly up out of the depths of my warm, slick pussy.

I tried again to wriggle free but failed, and then heard his soft chuckle of amusement as my face flamed hotly!

“Well now what is this?” he asked.

He pushed it back into me, and I gurgled, my legs kicking as he thrust it deep and hard. My pussy lips strained wide to take the base, then closed behind it, leaving the screw sticking out again.

I squealed as he yanked me back up and turned me around. At least the hem fell down over my hips, but not very much as I found myself sitting across his lap. I struggled again but he had an arm around me, and then reached up with his left hand and gripped my hair to hold me in place.

“Hold still,” he ordered as I squirmed.

I had wanted short hair, but to my stepfather and brothers, a girl with short hair was a dyke. I wanted to be a dyke to them even less than I wanted to be a frilly, dress wearing girly type, so my hair was well, not long but past my shoulders anyway, and seldom saw any kind of hair stylist for a cut. When it got too long I just used scissors.

I had tried parting it in the middle, but that tended to get in my way too much. So I parted it on the right side, and that was not horrible, except that hair would often spill down across my left eye, making it hard to see. So I wound up tying it back in a pony tail most of the time, like now.

The good part of that was it made it really easy to manage. The bad part was my brothers were constantly tugging on it to tease me. And now added to that it seemed was it was easy to use to keep me in place.

I jerked the hem of the shirt down as much as I could, and then landed a punch in the solar plexus that made him go 'oof', but before I could take advantage of it and leap free he had pushed me back and then grabbed my wrists and forced them together and up and back behind my head.

With them there he wrapped my pony tail around them, chuckling all the while, and then had me easily under control with just one hand while he used the other to adjust me on his lap.

“Now then, suppose you tell me what the hell that is?”

I couldn't talk! I was too mortified. I would have looked down at my lap but with the way he was holding my hair I couldn't look down at all, so I looked up at the ceiling, red-faced, and said nothing.

“Hmm,” he said. “Looks like the leg of our old sofa, but we junked that five years back. I guess you found another use for it, huh?”

My face just continued to burn and I gulped as I felt him gripping the screw, kind of tilting it up, then down. Of course, that kind of tilted the long, round chair leg inside me so it sort of pushed against me in odd and uncomfortable ways.

“Don't girls these days have dildos and such for this sort of thing?”

I closed my eyes at the waves of heat coming off my face.

“Maybe I should have bought you one for your eighteenth birthday,” he said in amusement.

He pulled at the dildo and it slid back, the flat base pressing against the insides of my labia, slowly forcing them apart.

“This seems kind of thick for a little thing like you,” he said, and I knew he was looking down, staring at my pussy, watching it opening wider and wider!

I could feel his fingers, as they pulled at the thing, touching me there!

“How come you got no hair down there?” he asked. “From what I read the only girls that shave their pussies are porn stars and lesbians. You ain't no porn star that I've noticed, least you don't have the money you woulda got. You a lesbian?”

I still couldn't speak, even if I wanted to! I mean, how do you hold a discussion about why you shave your pussy with your father, or even stepfather!? It was... well, okay, the porn thing had something to do with it. I mean, I guess I'm as curious as the next girl, and I do look at porn videos and pictures on the internet, and one day I just thought, well, they looked a lot more clean and tidy and … I don't know, nice without hair, so I had gotten rid of mine and kept it clean ever since.

“Ow!”I gasped involuntarily as he pulled the thing through my aching pussy lips, then slid it completely out.

“That hurt? You're the one that put it in there,” he said, sliding it all the way out.

I jerked as I felt his fingers slid inside me, twisting casually, as if feeling along the opening to my sex.

“Looks okay. No damage done,” he said.

As his fingers moved his thumb was pressing against my clit, and I wasn't sure, my mind fuzzing over with shock, embarrassment and, well, something else, if that was accidentally or on purpose.

“So you were gonna tell me if you were a lesbian,” he said. “I don't recall you dating much.”

“N-Not a lesbian!” I gasped in a strangled voice.

“No? How come you shave your pussy then? You're one of the few real blondes I know. At least your curtains match your drapes. You oughto be proud of that.”

As he spoke, his fingers kept turning just inside the mouth of my sex, as if rubbing my pussy lips from the inside, and his thumb, well, it wasn't rubbing my clit exactly but it was still pressing down on it.

“L-let me go!” I gurgled.

“Answer the fuckin' question,” he said.

I know I should have just cursed him and demanded he stop touching me, been really, I don't know, firm and angry and, well, you know. But I was so shell-shocked from what had happened, what was happening, so mortified and tongue-tied because of it, so angry on the one side but also feeling a strange dark sense of thrumming energy from down between my legs...

Fact is I was a virgin. And not a pretend virgin either. I'd never done anything more than let one guy grope my breasts through my shirt while we kissed. I'd have had anyone touching me down there, and despite my humiliation the sensation was... intense. It was a wild, raw animal rush of sensations and added to my sense of shock and helpless uncertainty.

“So you trying to make it easier for guys to eat you out?” he asked, finally sliding his finger out of my pussy and away from my clitoris.

I cringed at the question, and then my eyes widened and I squealed in shock again, as I realized he had let those fingers slide up the length of my nightshirt and undo more buttons. I didn't realize, with the way my head was held back by the hair, until I felt the tension of the shirt across my breasts ease, then felt another button give as the shirt parted, falling right open to bare me entirely!

“Well now that sure wasn't what I thought you had under those loose clothes you wear,” he said.

Another shock hit me as I felt his big, work-rough hand slide up my chest and caress my left breast.

“D-Don't!” I cried as his fingers slid across to my other breast.

I gasped as he jerked back on my pony tail a little more.

“Shoulda known you'd have a body built for loving, just like your mother did,” he said.

There was something in his voice which cooled my anger and outrage, a kind of nostalgia and longing and sadness. And truth to tell I hadn't gotten any real sense of parental approval or even affection from him in almost ten years. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time he'd even touched me, not even a hug.

So his gentle caress, in addition to sending wild ripples of sensation through my overloaded mind, in addition to shocking and shaming me, brought a strange sort of sense of pride. I mean, he'd finally kind of complimented me.

“You have gorgeous tits,” he said.

I gasped as I felt his mouth on the center of my breast! I felt his lips sliding wide, and felt his tongue against my nipple, which was already rock hard, felt him sucking as his other hand pushed down between my trembling thighs again. I shuddered as his fingers pierced the slick tight lips of my sex and drove up inside.

His thumb pressed against my clitoris, and there was no pretense as he began to rub it from side to side with quick little motions that made my hips want to grind against him. His fingers were pumping in and out, two of them, then a third, making me ache but... ache in a dark, delicious way.

He was kind of chewing at my breast, his teeth biting, but gently, as he sucked and his tongue licked back and forth across my clitoris. The sensations were all completely new to me, and they flooded my already confused and uncertain mind as a sense of sexual electricity began to settle around my body that crackled and snapped and made my muscles want to snap and spasm.

“There was many a night I'd sit your mom on my lap and do her just like this,” he said softly, then shifted to my other breast and began to suck and chew and lick at it.

My mind was just... just overcome with the emotions and sensations and still couldn't settle on a response, on what I should do. I mean, I knew very well what I should do, but more than one part of me didn't want to do it!

It wasn't just raging hormones, it was, well, he was paying attention to me, if you understand. I mean, the only thing he ever paid attention to me for was dinner and laundry. I was like a servant or something. He didn't have any use for me, really, except for work. To feel his skin against mine, feel his lips on me, even my breasts, produced all sorts of wildly conflicting thoughts inside my head.

And then there was those raging hormones. His fingers inside me felt … they just felt fucking incredible! I had pushed mine into me on many an occasion, but it had never ever felt like this! And I had rubbed my clit too, often, but never had the sensations been so powerful as now!

And I was kind of used to doing what I was told by him. He was strong-willed, strict, and his voice, when he got angry, became really powerful. He wasn't a man who tolerated a lot of argument. So it wasn't really natural to order him to do something, even if that order was to stop touching me!

Especially when I wasn't even entirely sure I wanted him to!

His fingers were a lot longer than mine, and a lot thicker, and the feel of sliding in and out of me was doing some crazy things to my mind. His thumb rubbing my clit and the feel of his mouth on my breast was also sending sensations flooding into my dazed mind. My chest was tight, my stomach fluttering, and my breaths were short and ragged as I twisted and wriggled on his lap.

My nipples were starting to ache something fierce! The weird thing was that all his chewing and sucking and licking were making them ache but... ache in a really, really, really pleasurable way. I would never have understood you could ache in that way up until then. My nipples felt swollen and hot and like they tingled. And every time he closed his lips around one and started sucking I gurgled helplessly at the sudden rush of sensation.

And then he suddenly shifted his grip and stood up, carrying me in his arms, heading out of the kitchen. It took me a few seconds, well, several long seconds to kind of recover, and remember that while the shirt still hung from my arms it was completely open and I was stark naked, and my hands started fumbling with it, trying to pull it closed.

“L-Let me go!” I gasped, wriggling and throwing myself out of his arms.

I landed on my feet, but stumbling, and he yanked me back, then pulled the shirt completely off and yanked me up over his left shoulder.

Crack! His hand slapped against my bare ass, and then his arm pinned my legs against his chest as he climbed the stairs with me draped across him like some sort of caveman!

“I got some things your mom used to like,” he said as he climbed. “I think you'd like em too. Something about big-titted blondes,” he added.

I wanted to deny that at once. I did not have big tits! They were okay, sure, but they weren't that big! I mean, I wasn't some big busted bimbo! People didn't stare at me and whistle! They just looked a little big because I had a slender frame! That's what I wanted to say. But when I started to wriggle and object I got another sharp, stinging slap to my bottom.

Then we were in his room and he was opening his closet and reaching in for a box on a shelf there. I started kicking and wriggling again, or trying to, but his arm held my legs tightly pinned as he brought it down and tossed it on the bed.

He set me on my feet at last, but quickly grabbed that damn pony tail again, jerking it up and back to hold me in place.

“Ow! Let me go! You bastard! Pervert! You – Ow!”

And then he was pushing something against my damn mouth! It was like a black rubber ball! Only he was trying to jam it into my mouth, and not taking no for an answer! He had to kind of squeeze it to get it past my teeth, even though I was opening my mouth wide because of him pulling at my pony tail. He got it into my mouth, mostly.

It didn't all fit. But it still managed to kind of fill my mouth, squeeze my tongue down and push up against the roof of my mouth. There was a kind of string around it and he pulled that behind my head, fixing it in place somehow behind me.

He chuckled in amusement, easing up on my pony tail. “Nothing better to get a woman than a gag,” he said. “Though with your mom, well, we needed it because otherwise her screaming would wake up the kids.”

Not something I wanted to hear, even if my mind could readily absorb it, which it couldn't!

I tried grabbing at it to pull it free, but he took my wrists in his big hands and drew them together behind my back, then he pushed me down on my belly on the bed and put a knee against my butt, chuckling low in his throat.

I felt something like rope being slipped around my wrist, only it was very soft rope. He tied it around my wrist as I struggled, then pulled my other wrist in, crossing them, and slipped a loop around that wrist too. More loops followed, criss-crossing my wrists, until he tied it off.

He eased off me, then, and I gasped as I felt him grip my thigh and flip me onto my back as though I was completely weightless.

“Now I think I'm gonna show you something, little girl, something that's made more than one girl's eyes pop out of her head.”