First Spring Break

I was playing drinking games with these two guys who had ended up at the party and only thought of sleep when the only other girl up, Jenny, yawned and stumbled upstairs to find her boyfriend.

The guys were named Rob and Marcus, but I honestly can't remember which was which, and they both howled in protest when I said I needed sleep. They teased and prodded me into way more shots that my body was ever intended, but to be honest, I was really getting off on the attention these guys were showing me.

I am 5'3'' tall and weighed around 105 back then with short brown hair, blue eyes, and was only an A cup-which kinda left me out when guys would hoot and holler at the more stacked girls. I usually felt left out when guys would fall all over themselves to get their attention, so I wasn't really ready to give it up for the night.

I can remember putting my head on the table at some point and having to be carried to one of the big sofas in the living room. I felt one of the guys next to me and thought nothing of it, heard them turn on the t.v. and then kinda blacked out.

First thing I remember is cursing at somebody to let me sleep and immediately feeling like I was gonna vomit. I was barely able to hold it back while somebody continued to pull my hips up.

I wasn't even thinking that someone had just pulled my shorts off when I rolled over, clutching my stomach. Somewhere outside the nausea I heard both of them comment on my thong panties, not realizing how exposed my little ass was.

I closed my eyes and tried to stop the room from spinning when I felt one of them behind me, roughly rubbing my pussy through the fabric. I cried out for him to stop, saying I had to be sick.

"READ MORE!"

He rolled me over and gave me some air, a few minutes later asking if I was ok. I said sure and laid my head back. In seconds I felt hands parting my thighs, I tried to hold them together but my drunk muscles simply couldn't hold up.

I told him to stop, and could hear his friend tell him to let up. He just told me to relax and had my panties aside and his finger in me despite my pleas.

When I felt myself getting wet I slapped him, hard as I could. He just laughed and turned me over, much to the alarm of both me and his friend.

I heard him object once more before my abuser turned and cursed him so violently that it gave me shivers.

He yanked me up on the couch so my ass was up and pulled my panties aside from behind, laughing and saying how "itty-bitty" I was. When I got the courage to lift my face from the couch cushion I saw him jacking off to get hard with the hand that wasn't fingering me.

He had a very hairy belly, which was sticking out in the makings of a beer belly, but not nearly as far as the huge erection that made his legs look sickly and small in comparison.

I remember thinking how much he smelled and how he needed a shower and blushed when I realized half of what I was smelling was the small body that I'd ran around in the sun and surf all day and neglected to bathe. Normally a religiously clean person, all the fun and liquor had kept me from my usual hygiene.

Though the whiffs of my pussy made me feel wheezy and threatened to double me over and vomit, my partner obviously didn't mind the scent at all.

I moaned and tried to think of what to say to make him stop, but before I could speak coherently I felt my panties dig into my skin as he pulled them to the side for something bigger than his fingers.

I could only gasp silently as he filled me up, throbbing inside me but still unable to shut out his filthy language. I could feel his dick, skin on skin inside me, the way I'd only let one boyfriend try-and that time only for less than a minute.

I openly sobbed when I felt that familiar tingle inside me, feeling so dirty and betrayed by my body as it quickly responded. I didn't even bother to protest when he reached under my small t-shirt and unclasp my bra, exposing my A cups.

Right away he reached under my shirt and pinched my small nipple, which are extremely sensative-fear of losing that feeling is one reason I never asked for a boob-job.

He pinched and roughly pulled on my small breast like no lover had, and it was enough to break my resistance and send me over the edge. I could feel my pussy quivering, squeezing his cock as I climaxed, doing my best not to moan out loud.

Even though I managed not to scream and wake the house, he knew I was having an orgasm and only talked dirtier, slapping his body into mine from behind. He slowed down long enough to violently pull my shirt and bra off, leaving me with just a small pair of thongs pulled aside and digging into my hips.

I heard his command to the other guy, who so far had just watched with a drunken stare, but I didn't really believe it until the flash started going off.

My orgasm had stopped and I'd finished quivering and was beginning to feel raw down there when he pulled out and rolled me over. I could feel the tears still wet on my face as he pulled my legs up over his shoulders.

Entering me was much easier, and I couldn't move enough to avoid his hot, reeking kisses. He was sweating so much it was dripping down on me, only adding to the growing puddle under us.

I was starting to feel each of his thrusts inside me and he started to push harder, slamming me into the couch again and again. He had my legs up over his shoulders which were practically pinned behind my head. Sour sweat ran off his hair and landed on me as he started to pant.

Impossible as it was to believe he somehow found it in him to speed up and smash into my small frame even harder and with more velocity.

The only warning I got was that he was finally silent before his rhythm broke and I felt him flooding me with his hot, stringy sperm.

I laid there gasping for breath, feeling him shrinking inside me. Eventually he got up, pulled his shorts back up and left, laughing with his friend.

When my legs finally stopped shaking I'd caught my breath enough to finally feel sturdy enough to move. My stomach was still heaving with alcohol but was now overshadowed by the throbbing, raw feeling of my pussy.

I almost started to cry again when I leaned up and saw the mess which was just beginning to leak out of me. I'd only seen it up close a few times, and it disgusted me to see it oozing out of me.

I don't remember if I actually gagged or not, but I did lay back and manage to pull a blanket over me.

When I came to Lisa was giggling and peeking under the blanket at me dressing only in my thongs. My dirty shorts, shirt, and bra laid in a pile around the couch along with a huge stain on the cushion under me.

Lisa stopped laughing when she saw how I looked. My mascara was smeared from crying and my short hair was sticking up in all directions. I later learned how bruised my hips were from my panties and one nipple had a deep purple bruise darkening it.

She didn't ask anything but helped me turn the cushion over and help me upstairs to a hot bath.

The only good thing about the severity of my hangover was that it gave me absolutely no time to think about what had happened. I spent the rest of the week trying to come to grips with it by drowning my shame in liquor.

It wasn't until a few weeks later on in the summer when I discovered the implications of what I'd carried away with me that spring break. I almost died when I missed my period but it eventually turned out I wasn't pregnant though he did give me the one, and only, STD I've ever gotten.