“I don’t know what you mean,” Claire’s eyes starting to well up from the fear.
“Come on man,” Brett laughed, “you’re scaring the hell outta that girl.”
“Shut the fuck up!” A strand of slobber slipped over his drunk lower-lip as he shouted at Brett, “We’re gonna make him see you like me Claire… we’re gonna show him.”
Malcolm’s fat fingers twisted tightly in Claire’s hair, yanking her face close to his. Then a wave of repulsion hit her as he forced his slobber-coated lips onto her mouth.
“No!” she pulled away.
“Fuck!” Brett laughed, “I hoped we’d get onto this. Girl’s fucking hot dude.”
Claire was forced onto her back by Malcolm’s massive weight; his slimy fat tongue was lolling about on her face, trying to find an entrance to her sweet mouth. His dirty whiskey-fouled spit was smearing on her cheeks and chin. Brett watched and started to undo his belt; he pulled his boxers down a little and let his lank cock out of his pants, stroking it to a hard-on.
“This prove it,” Malcolm slobbered out, “this prove she fucking likes me.”
“Whatever, dude,” Brett was beating his boner pretty steady now, “just keep tonguing her.”
Malcolm forced the muzzle of his gun against Claire’s temple.
“Open it,” he shouted, “open your sweet mouth.”
“Please Malcolm! Don’t!”
He forced his fat fingers into her mouth and literally prized open her jaw. He made disgusting grunting, slobbering noises as he held her open and tongued her. She could feel his spit rolling in and out of her mouth with his huge tongue. She just lay there and cried hysterically.
“Fuck man, this is so hot!” Brett laughed, “is she fucking wet from this shit. Check her pussy man.”
Claire screamed in response to the statement. Malcolm looked across at his buddy, almost surprised himself, then he looked back down on Claire. He pointed the gun into her face.
“Listen Claire,” he said, “I’m gonna check your pussy… see if your wet…”
“Malcolm!” she forced herself to speak though all she wanted was to vomit, “I won’t tell anyone you kissed me… Malcolm, I’ll tell the police if you rape me.”
“That’s a little pussy I’d do time for,” Brett laughed.
Malcolm started to fumble with the button of her jeans.
“No!” She fought off his fat, ugly hands.
“What part of this don’t you understand, bitch!” He forced the gun hard against her chin, “I never came the fuck up here to this shithole to see the house… I came ‘cause I knew you’d be here and ‘cause you’re fucking gorgeous… I’ll go to fucking prison for a couple of weeks with you… now stay the fuck still!”
He used his gun-hand to force Claire’s face sideways on the couch; pushing down roughly. She just lay there helpless and crying softly as he grunted and rutted on top of her; shifting his huge weight and pulling at her jeans. All she could see through his fat fingers clamped on her face was Brett across the room jacking his dick off. Malcolm finally got his drunken hands in order and managed to pull her jeans over her hips. Next he dragged down her panties. She still lay; humiliated and crying and waiting for what was to come. He pushed her thighs apart with one hand and stared at her gorgeous little hole. It was fucking amazing. Pink and tight and so goddamn perfect he wanted to blow his spunk right then.
“She wet dude.” Brett was in seventh heaven just playing with his dick and thinking about fucking her.
“Fuck!” Malcolm said, “you’re fucking dry as fuck.”
“Guess she doesn’t like you after all,” Brett joked.
Malcolm threw him a disgusting look.
“Her hole just needs a little attention.” He said.
Claire nearly threw up as her uncle reached between her legs and started pushing his middle finger slowly inside her body. He tried to spread her legs wider but the sides of the couch wouldn’t allow it. He got frustrated.
“Fuck!” He slapped her thighs hard, “I can’t get to her fucking hole on this bastard couch! Let’s move this to the bedroom.”
He pulled off her jeans and panties entirely and tossed them onto the floor. Then he stood up and threw her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.
“Come on if you wanna watch,” he told Brett; carrying Claire up the stairs to her bedroom.
*
Once inside Malcolm threw her down on the bed.
“Now I’ve left my fucking piece downstairs, Claire,” he said, “but I can go down and get it just as quick as you start pissing me off… better a fuck than a bullet.”
Claire looked at Malcolm’s sweating, fat face and disgusting body. She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t rather die than have him entering her with his cock; slobbering on her, lying on her. The thought made her sick. She cradled her legs on the bed; trying to keep her sex covered in front of the two men.
“I gotta go down to my truck,” Malcolm said, “I left the rubbers in the dash.”
Claire started to cry uncontrollably. It was really going to happen. They were going to take turns with her.
“Cool, dude,” Brett said, “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Malcolm nodded and left for his truck. Brett grinned. He’d left his pants downstairs and for the first time Claire realized they were both naked from the waist down. He pulled off his shirt and sat next to her on the bed.
“Please!” She screamed as he pulled her legs apart, “Please! God! Please! No!”
“Lay still!” He warned, “you want Malcolm to go get his gun!”
She turned her face to one side as he forced his face against her cheek. Then he pushed her legs as far apart as they would go and started to finger her roughly.
“You got a boyfriend?” He whispered to her; his lips so close they nearly touched the skin of her cheek.
He shook her head in despair.
“Do you finger yourself?” He pushed deeper with his fingers.
“Please!”
Brett laughed.
“I bet you do, baby,” he whispered, “all these lonely fucking nights with no guy. I bet you finger this sweet little pussy every night. Don’t you. I get you think about guy’s cocks.”
He sucked on her ear with his wet mouth.
“Fuck it’s so nice to be with a beautiful young piece of ass again,” he groaned, still fingering her at a steady pace, going deep, “my wife’s pussy is like a fucking bucket from having so many kids… not like this… sweet, soft, silky little pussy… I’m gonna tear it up with my cock, darlin’, I’m gonna make you so fucking sore…”
He started kissing and sucking her neck. Then Claire heard the door open again. Malcolm came up the stairs and broke into the room. He was holding a packet of condoms.
“Get the fuck off her, Brett!” He said.
“Hey man,” Brett smiled, withdrawing from Claire, “just keeping the engine running for you, dude.”
He moved away and Malcolm approached. He grabbed Claire’s legs roughly and pulled her forward to the edge of the bed.
“Open your legs slut!”
He pushed her legs apart.
“Keep them open!”
He pulled off his t-shirt and for the first time, to her repulsion, Claire saw his pale, flabby, hairy body. He was so fat it was disgusting and his rolling stomach, sagging chest and fleshy shoulders were covered in a thick, coarse black hair. He grabbed the front of her sweater and tore it. It almost tore off entirely, she cried, and then he pulled again throwing the tattered mess of material to the floor. He grabbed her silky bra tearing it off too.