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American Holiday

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American Holiday by Paula S. Erikson

Tony Andrews is a twenty four year old, accounts clerk who is sexually naive, his hobby, is air travel. Tony books a holiday on the new supersonic airliner to America. It is the first holiday he has ever had, he meets up with some business men, who show him a good time around the bars of Las Vegas. On his way back to his hotel, he takes a wrong turn and trips over a woman; she has been tied spread eagle and has been raped. He tries to help her, but befuddled by drink, he ends up fondling her, after removing the gag, and she screams; he is arrested and found guilty of raping her. By accident he is sent to a female correctional facility, and meets a strict, bombastic governor with revenge in her heart. She uses the prisoners as prostitutes, on blue films and has severe ways to ensure that they do as told.

Our hero finds himself in her bad books, as he tries to have her arrested for her crimes, getting secret messages out via his lawyer. She knows that he is getting the word out and punishes him severely, in many ways.

He escapes from the prison with the help of some of the prisoners and the governor chases him across two states. He gets to his lawyer, only to find that he is being sent back until his new trial. The governor realises that her time is limited, and hunts him down to punish him for spoiling her enterprises.

Tony endures bondage, servitude, golden showers, the cane; he is feminised with a drug that induces breast growth, nipple torture, genital torture, and more, yet he still fights on, having sexual encounters with the prisoners and the women who help him as he struggles for justice.

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The days turned into weeks, I began to wonder if my lawyer had also deserted me, I had no idea how long it would be before she could get an appeal, and just had to wait. During the first month, a lot happened to me.

Cynthia and the rest of the women began to accept me as a prisoner, they still managed to shame me, and feel me, just to make sure. It had become a game with the prisoners, which one of them was close enough to grab at my genitalia, and fondle it. I wasn’t allowed to object.

The laundry didn’t get any easier, but I did manage to speed up and stay on top of the pile of dirty laundry. The guards seemed to find more and more, until I was late one day, and they took some off me and passed it to another prisoner. They knew that they had overloaded me and this time the women accepted that it wasn’t my fault when we went for dinner. That night I collapsed in bed exhausted.

Cynthia kept asking strange questions, like did I get a hard-on when the women fondled me, I had said that if I knew what a hard-on was then I might be able to answer her. She just made a humming sound, like a query, unsure of my answer.

“Have you felt a woman’s tits,” she asked one evening.

“What are those, oh her breasts, yes,” I replied.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Not really, but the Governor forced me to; remember, it was when I first arrived, and I had no bra on; the Governor made me touch that woman’s, it was horrible.”

“Not them stupid, apart from then?”

“Yes,” I said, ashamed, and looked down, “I accidentally touched the woman’s, the victim's... I was intoxicated and fumbling around, I didn’t know what they were. I fell onto them that is how the police found me, pushing myself upright,” I looked down, embarrassed.

“Not even them, I mean before as a teenager, experimenting with sex.”

“No, my mum said that isn’t right. They are for feeding the baby after it has been delivered,” I said innocently.

“By the fairies, I presume,” she mocked me.

“No silly, the stork,” I replied.

She got down from her bunk and looked into my eyes, “Pardon, you’re kidding me, you’re not, are you, you really believe that the stork delivers the babies,” she said, and burst out laughing.

She tried to sit but missed the chair and rolled about on the floor holding her side and crying she laughed so much. I just looked at her in shock, I didn’t understand the joke, it was obviously on me, the jokes usually were, but I didn’t understand them.

“Oh boy, oh boy, that takes the fucking biscuit; you actually believe the stork delivers the babies. Rape! You don’t know what a clit is, or where it is I bet. Do you?”

“A clit, no, is it some opening or did you mean slit, your pronunciation is poor sometimes, Cynthia,” I said warily. I was in fear of her still even though we had become to some degree friends; that is what living together does for you.

“No I didn’t mean slit, I meant clit, short for clitoris. What about a hard-on, you never had one of them, when your dick, you do know what a dick is, don’t you?”

“Yes, I have heard the women saying it, and one said that she had grabbed my dick after she had felt at my penis, so I presumed that, that is what a dick is, my mum…”

“For fucks sake, forget your mum, all I ever hear is my fucking mum,” she said mimicking me. “What do you know about sex? Come on tell me,” she said, and sat down facing me, challenging me.

“It is a noun, you are of the female sex, and I am of the male sex,” I said proudly.

“And?” she said as a question.

“And what, that is it, it is a noun,” I said, now unsure.

“When a man and a woman get together, you know amorously, they have sex, he fucks her, it is also a verb, a doing word. You do know what a verb is, don’t you?”

“Yes I do, how do they have sex?”

“Oh my god, you honestly don’t know do you, did you have a wet dream as a youngster?”

“What’s one of them?”

Cynthia got up and paced the cell, it was getting late, and it would soon be lights out. She looked at me as I stared at her, her hand to her chin and scratching her head, shaking it, all at the same time.

“What about periods, wanking, stroking the donkey, do you know what a cunt is?”

“I am sorry, Cynthia, you have lost me. I have heard the women in here use those words, but I don’t know what they mean. They seem to be nasty words, swear words, but what they actually mean I don’t know, except that, when they want me to hurry up, they call me those names.”

“You have raped a woman,” she said, then stopped and lay down on the cell floor spread her legs and arms, as the woman was when I found her, and then she said, “Ok, come on, rape me, come on.”

I hesitated and looked at her, then got up and stood over her, I shrugged my shoulders and sat down again.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, sorry,” I said, “tell me, and if I can I will help you, but I am in here for rape, so it isn’t very nice. The judge said that it was a horrendous crime, or no heinous crime, so why ask me to do it to you, I don’t understand.”

“Strip, go on strip,” she ordered me; I did as she told me and stood there embarrassed.

“This my dear little boy is your dick,” she said getting hold of it, “and if I play with it like this it will get hard and firm, that is a hard-on. Now come on, get into the mood, let me see it stand up.”

I stood there as she played with my penis. I wanted to stop her but was afraid to say anything; it did start to stand up, she rubbed it harder and harder. “Come on, have you no, ok,” she said and stopped.

She took her clothes off and came up close to me, she put her arm around my neck, pulled me to her and kissed me hard on the lips and then stroked it again. Feeling her so close and that warm body next to mine, her breasts pushing into my chest, and her lips on mine, I began to feel odd down there. It began to get harder and the more she rubbed it the harder it got until I needed to go for a pee. I couldn’t hold on, but she wouldn’t let go and rubbed harder. I tried to push her away, but she held on to me. She now also moaned and kissed me harder as she rubbed until I just couldn’t wait and I peed on her, but it came out, in spurts, not in a stream.

“How was that?” she asked, as she backed away from me and cleaned herself up.

“I, it, I am sorry, but you wouldn’t let me go and I was desperate, I just couldn’t hold on any longer. Sorry, Cynthia, I am so ashamed I-I, sorry,” I said, blushed, and hid my face in shame.

She grabbed hold of me and turned my head to face her, there were tears in my eyes. I was so embarrassed and afraid of her for peeing on her.

“What on earth are you jabbering on about, didn’t you enjoy it?”

“Yes, when you rubbed it, but I peed on you, sorry, I tried.”

“No you didn’t, that was what I wanted, you just came on me, hot, sweet cum down my front. It was lovely, no-one could be so stupid or so I thought, but you genuinely don’t know what sex is, do you?’

“No,” I said and hung my head in shame, the tears flowed from shame.

“Look, this,” she began, I looked away as she pointed to her groin, “hey do it, or I will thump you, now look,” she ordered me.

I looked, and the lights went out, I was glad, “Fucking guards, we will continue with this tomorrow night. A fucking rapist who has just had his first orgasm, and never seen a clit before,” she said as she climbed into her bunk again.

“I have, when the women peed on my face the first morning. So that is called a clit, is it?” I asked and turned to go to sleep.

“Yes, that is a clit, a twat, a fanny, a cunt, call it what you will, the correct name is vagina or clitoris, and you stick your hard, throbbing dick in there to make babies,” she said.

“Yuck, you pee out of that,” I said, not thinking.

“Yes, twat face, and you pee out of yours as well, I will explain tomorrow night. Now shut the fuck up, and go to sleep,” she said irritated, yet still laughing at my naivety.

Artist Credit

Jam Sommer - Shutterstock.com

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