Date: Fri, 19 Mar 2021 21:53:24 -0600
From: Ocelot <fullmetalocelot12@gmail.com>
Subject: Dawn Grows Up Chapter 12

	Hello and welcome back!  This story contains scenes of sex between
an adult and minors.  If you're not allowed to be here, go away.  If you're
going to stay here, go ahead and relax.  I grant Nifty a story to display
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Give `til it hurts!

	This story is dedicated to a certain naughty Jedi.  I have enjoyed
creating this story with you.


	Okay, if you skipped last chapter, here's a recap: Amber, Dawn, and
Weston are quite successful in the adult movie business.  They have their
own website, and are making bank.  Weston was invited to an exclusive stock
seminar where everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.  Lost luggage
(both on the way to, and the way home), small queen room instead of a
suite, no luxury car, a seat suitable for someone who was five feet tall on
the plane, and so on.  He was in a terrible mood, and when he got home, he
saw Dawn watching the Daredevil movie with Ben Affleck which he absolutely
hates.  This was the last straw.  He became incandescent with rage, and
took his anger out on Dawn.  So, let's pick up the morning after from
Dawn's point of view.


	I looked a total mess.  I'd cried away all my makeup.  My eyes were
puffy and swollen from crying.  The tears in my eyes gave me double vision.
Sniffling, I boarded the bus when it arrived, and rummaged through my Louis
Vuitton purse for some change.  More money than any ten kids at my school,
and I'm scrambling to pay two bucks for the bus.

	"Everything okay?" the bus driver asked.

	"Yeah...fine.  My boyfriend just...broke my heart." I said this as
the coins clinked into the receptacle.  No way could I say I'd been raped
last night by Weston.

	"Ah, young love," he said.  It was clear he was picturing a small
lover's spat, and no doubt I'd be back with my beau soon enough.

	I made my way to an empty seat and sat down, looking out the
window.  I'd slept on the couch for a few hours and woke up early, making
my way to the bus stop, and taking the first bus that came by.  I had no
idea what route it was, but I'd get on the proper bus when it hit the
central hub.

	My mouth still ached from him shoving his cock deep into it.  My
pussy and ass also hurt.  Sure, we'd gotten...frisky before, but never had
we ever done anything like what had happened last night.  Was something
wrong with me?  Had I done something to piss him off?  Sure I knew he
didn't like the Daredevil movie, but that was no reason to treat me like a
sex object, was it?

	I resolved to stop watching the movie at his house.  I had it on
DVD at my house.  I could watch it there.  With a hiss of air brakes, the
bus stopped at the central terminal.  I got off, and wandered around for a
moment, trying to get my head back together.  Buying a soda from a vending
machine, I spotted the bus I needed.  Joining the line, I made sure to have
the necessary change in hand before getting on board.

	My parents weren't home.  I was glad for that.  I wasn't in the
mood for questions.  Taking my clothes off, and dumping them in a corner, I
got into a hot shower after staring at my reflection for a few minutes.  I
had a decent shiner.  My ribs were tender and bruised.  My long dark hair
cascaded over my shoulders and nearly down to my breasts.  Slowly, I
massaged shampoo into it.  Focusing on washing my hair thoroughly always
served to help me forget my problems.  I gently massaged the lather into
the dark strands, and watched the suds swirl down the drain.  I took my
time with the conditioner, and scrubbed my body clean.  I was slow when I
had to bend over.  I used my shower poof and really scrubbed my vagina and
ass crack, feeling dirty somehow.  When I got out of the shower, I winced.
The skin there felt raw and irritated, but I felt a bit cleaner, a bit
better about myself.

	With a towel wrapped around my damp hair, I brushed my teeth and
then went to lie on my bed.  I was pretty much dry by then, and I didn't
want to irritate my skin further with the towel.  I lay there, earbuds in,
music cranked to drown everything else out.  With my eyes closed, I forgot
about my woes.  Imagine my surprise when I opened my eyes some time later,
and saw Weston there with flowers.

	"Hey Dawn," he began lamely.

	I didn't give him the chance to say anything else.  I sprung up,
grabbed the flowers, and began swatting him with them. I had no idea if the
roses had their thorns scraped off, but I hoped they didn't.

	"You fucking fuck!" I screamed, hitting him in the face with the
roses, petals flying everywhere.  "You do what you did to me last night,
all you can say is `hey'?  What kind of brain damage did you take?"

	The bouquet had disintegrated by now, and I was hitting him with my
hands now.  I shoved him in the chest and he stumbled out of the room.

	"I'm so fucking emotional right now, and you think just coming into
my room is okay?" I slapped him across the face and pushed him towards the
front door.  "I don't want to see or talk to you right now!  Get out of my
house or I'll call the police on you for trespassing!"

	Slamming the bedroom door behind me, I locked it and threw myself
down on my bed.  After a moment, I heard Weston shuffling down the hall and
the front door opened and closed.  Some few minutes later, I sighed, got
up, and began cleaning up the mess of flowers.  I'd have a lot to explain
if my parents came home and saw the mess.

	"Yeah, mom, I have a boyfriend, but things are rocky between us
now.  He did things to me last night that I didn't want or expect.  Oh,
he's also in his late twenties.  And we make porn films.  Amber, my friend,
she's also my lover as well and joins me and him."  Yeah, I'm sure any
parent would love to hear that from a daughter who wasn't even old enough
to learn how to drive yet.

	As this went through my mind, I snorted with disgust, wondering how
the hell things had gone so bad.  I considered.  Did I still love Weston?
Yes, but if that was how he would treat me from now on, I knew it would be
a good thing for me to end our relationship.  If it was just a one-time
thing, we probably could move past it.  He did look sorry when he came
over.  What would I tell Amber?  She was coming over today so we could work
on a school project.  I threw on some sweats.  Throwing the mess of flowers
into the outside garbage can, I went inside and washed my hands.

	Looking at my face in the mirror, I saw that I looked a bit better.
Like I was sort of sick.  It wasn't great, but it was an improvement.
Amber came over for two hours.  She didn't seem to notice any changes about
me.  If she did, she had the tact not to call attention to it.  She did ask
about my black eye.

      "What happened?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

"Tale as old as time," I said, trying to be nonchalant as I flipped a page
in my textbook.

      "Beauty and the Beast?"  Amber's face was screwed up in concentration
as she tried to reason out my answer.

      "No," I said, picking up my mechanical pencil.  "Gymnastics practice.
The one you missed.  Balance beam meets my face."

	"Ouch," she said, writing some notes down.

	I was lying in bed when my parents came home.  Mom came into my
bedroom, and I was under the covers, with the TV on a low volume.  On my
side, my face half sank into my pillow.  I could hide my shiner from her
this way.

	"Hey, sweetie, are you feeling all right?" she asked, a concern
etched on her face.

	"Sort of.  I'm not feeling good, if that helps any."

	"Is it your monthly?  A bad one?"  mom sat on the bed and brushed
some hair away from my face while she spoke.

	"Yeah."  My insides hurt, but it wasn't because I was on my period.
I was all knotted up, emotionally.

	"Well, let me get you some juice, and a Midol.  I got a new bottle
while your father and I were out.  That should help."

	"Thanks, mom." I smiled.

	Soon, she was back with a glass of fruit juice, and a bottle.  I
took the pill and drank the juice and laid back on my pillows after mom
left.  I continued staring into space, the television on just for some
background noise.  My skin didn't seem to hurt so much now.  But my holes
ached.  It wasn't so painful anymore, but I could definitely tell that
they'd been used and abused.

	The next evening I still hadn't spoken with Weston.  I had done a
lot of thinking.  My bruises were slowly healing with the compresses and
gentle massaging I'd done to them.  Despite how hurt they had been, my
holes felt wonderful.  It wasn't that they'd recovered from the stretching,
but like they had been shocked but found it to be enjoyable.  Going online,
I began to research how I was feeling.  There was no way I was going to
speak with my parents about how I felt.  Some things you just didn't share
with them.

	To my surprise, I found there were people who enjoyed rape.  They
used a safe word to indicate when to stop.  I supposed it was like tickling
someone.  They'd keep repeating no, no, no, no, no.  But in reality, they
may not have meant it.  I learned everyone had things they liked and didn't
like in the bedroom.  I still didn't understand how or why people enjoyed
watersports or scat.

	Weston had made me feel...small...weak.  He was strong, dominate,
and forceful.  He knew what he had wanted, and he had taken it.  He was
over six feet tall, and I was a humble five feet two inches.  I was light
and trim from gymnastics, and he was decently built.  He could no doubt
pick me up and throw me to the bed from across the room.

	This line of thought made me think of one of the times we'd been in
his pool together at his old house.  This was before we began having sex.
He had picked me up and thrown me into the deep end of the pool.  He had
actually hoisted me over his head a few times.  He had muscles.  The more I
thought about his manhandling of me, the more I noticed my breathing was
getting faster and my pussy becoming wet.  I sat in my computer chair,
closing my eyes, thinking of Weston's strong arms as he held me tight,
unable to squirm away from his cock as it prodded my lips.  My index finger
circled my clit, enhancing my pleasure.  In no time, I came, shaking a bit
from my orgasm in my chair.

	I knew what needed to be done.  I needed to talk with Weston, have
him apologize for what he did, and maybe there was some way I could get him
to do it again.  If we talked about it, maybe we could do it again, but as
pleasure for both of us.  Perhaps there were fans who would want such
videos.  Wiping my hands dry, I got my phone, and went to our website.  I
logged in, not as myself, but as a random user with an account I'd created
to help push things along when we were first getting started in the "movie"
business.

	We had created a forum for video requests, and every so often,
there would be live discussions as to why we did certain videos or why we
didn't.  I composed a message to all three of us, and typed.  I asked about
certain restraints being used, and maybe Weston forcing himself onto us
poor helpless girls.  I had some fun, picturing a safe word scene,
wondering what answers I'd get.  I logged out, and went to bed.  Tomorrow,
I'd take the bus to Weston's house, and talk with him.

	The next day, I wore jeans and a long sleeved shirt.  They covered
up what was left of the bruises on my body, and a pair of Versace
sunglasses covered my black eye.  I was a mixture of feelings on the ride
there.  Anxious, nervous, excited, horny, and scared.  When I stood in
front of his house, my stomach did some flips.  I wondered if perhaps I
should have arranged a meet in public first like at a park.

	I climbed the steps to the front door.  I did something I hadn't
done in a very long time.  I knocked.  Usually, I'd just go straight in,
but I wanted Weston to either accept or reject my visit outright.  I heard
his steps, and then he opened the door.  His hair was dripping sweat, and
his shirt was off.  His sweaty chest glistened in the sun.  He must have
been working out.

	"Weston, I'm willing to talk if you are."

	He looked at me, nodded, and stepped back.  He shut the door behind
me, and we walked down the hall.  As we approached the den he spoke.  His
voice was somewhat stilted as if he was forcing the words out.

	"Do you...want something to drink?  Soda?  Water?"

	"I'm fine, thanks," I said, sitting down and taking off my
sunglasses.

	Weston looked at the cushion beside me as if he wanted to sit
there, but sat in an armchair across from me.  His gaze lingered on my
black eye, and I could see lines furrow his forehead.  His mouth worked a
bit as if he didn't know what to say, finally, words came spilling out of
him.

	"I'm really sorry I did what I did.  I was upset, and was in a
temper.  That doesn't excuse my actions, but I'm sorry I hurt you.  You're
the best in my life, you and Amber, and I was having the worst week of my
life.  The airline lost my luggage, I stayed in a shit hotel room, the
plane was cramped and excruciating for the flight across the country, and
some idiot Texan wouldn't leave me alone, he had the worst manners anyone
had seen and he kept finding me somehow!"  He stopped and took a breath.

	"Do you know what you did?" I asked pointing to my shiner.  I
pulled my shirt up, showing him the yellow and purple bruises that stood
out on my tanned skin.  "Look, look real good."  Weston's gaze fell on my
exposed skin and his face fell.

	"Do you have any idea how tricky it is to change for gym class at
school while I have this?  Or change for gymnastics?  I'm just lucky I
don't have any meets coming up, and I can get to practice early to change
in the empty dressing room."

	"I'm sor-" Weston began, but I cut him off.

	"Sorry doesn't change things.  Sorry doesn't excuse what you did.
You had a shit week, and that sucks.  But shit happens to everyone, and
that's no reason to take it out on me.  It's like bitching at the clerk in
a store when an item doesn't ring up right.  It's not their fault.  They
don't set the sales in the computer.  They're just the nearest and easiest
target.  That night, I was the nearest and easiest target.  It took a lot
for me to come here.  I want your word that what happened will never happen
again."

	Weston knelt in front of me.  He took my hands in his.  His skin
felt warm and soft as they gently held my own.  His eyes looked at me, his
hair falling across his forehead.  Concern, love, and sincere regret were
etched in every line on his face, and cemented in his eyes as he looked at
me.

	"Dawn Simmons, I promise that I will never every lay my hands on
you like that again.  I am embarrassed by my actions towards someone I
love, and I hope you can find it in your heart to know that I speak the
truth."

	Nodding, I pulled Weston close, and kissed him.  His lips were soft
against mine, and I could feel the hunger.  I wrapped my arms around his
neck, and kissed my way across his cheek and to his neck.  I nuzzled him
for a moment, enjoying his arms around me, inhaling his scent.

	"I've missed you, Dawn."

	"I've missed you too, Weston."

	I lay down on the couch, and pulled him with me.  His gym shorts
had an obvious bulge which rubbed against my legs.  He reached down,
grabbed the hem of my shirt, and pulled it off me.  His mouth immediately
went to work.  I wasn't wearing a bra, and my erect nipples were waiting
for him.  As he sucked and gently nibbled on them, I cupped the back of his
neck with hand, and gently scratched his back with my nails.  Not only did
Weston like that, but it made him growl, and his bulge pressed close to me.

	A few minutes later, Weston kissed his way down my flat stomach,
his hands on my hips as he kissed my waist.  He undid the button on my
jeans, and pulled them off.  My red panties were damp.  He took an index
finger and began rubbing my inner thighs, getting closer and closer to my
pussy before he was finally stroking the damp red cloth.  I leaned back and
sighed, content.  Weston pulled my panties off, and gently stroked the
outer lips.  His fingers pulled apart my pussy lips and he dipped his head
and began licking.

	My legs were over his shoulder as his tongue probed into me.  His
hands reached up, massaging my breasts, and pinching and rolling my
nipples.  With his mouth, he made me cum, my entire body shaking, blood
rushing through my body as he brought me to the heights of ecstasy.

	Sliding his sweat pants to his knees, Weston rubbed the tip of his
uncut cock against my slit, and then slid in.  I was already so wet that
his cock was buried to the hilt with just the one thrust.  Panting, he
began fucking me.  His cock slid in and out of me with ease.

	"Faster," I moaned, wanting to make up for lost time.

	"I can do fast," he grunted, increasing his pace.  His body pounded
against mine as he did me with frenzy.

	I wrapped my legs around his waist so I could pull him deeper
inside me still.  From the look on his face, I knew he was doing his best
to keep from cumming first.  He wanted me to orgasm before he surrendered
himself to it.  His lips were softly kissing my neck and shoulders as his
cock slid into me again and again.  My nails dug into his back a bit as my
body began trembling, my orgasm building. From the feel, it was going to be
a good one.  I hadn't pleasured myself at all since Weston came home, and
my body was craving for a good cum.

	I held onto his bare chest, and rolled over, now riding Weston
cowgirl style.  His hands grabbed my hips as his thick dick slid deep into
me.  His eyes closed, enhancing what he was feeling via his dick.  Quick as
a cat, my hand dipped into my purse, whipping out something I had secreted
in there before I left.  I came out with a thin silken rope.  Purple, and
long enough to use as a decoration on clothes.  Or to choke someone with.
Feeling like an absurd mafia hitman, doing it backwards, I wrapped my hands
with the ends, and pressed it down on his neck.  His flesh sunk in where it
was tight against him.  His eyes snapped open.

	"What the fuck?" he spluttered.

	I wasn't pressing with intent to seriously hurt him, but to give
him a bit of an idea of what he did to me.  I had figured on and was fully
prepared for his cock to go limp, but if anything, it got harder, and
Weston slammed into me deeper, making me gasp in pleasure.

	"What the fuck?" he asked again, but in a totally different tone.

	As he worked to get air into his lungs, pleasure increased for both
of us.  My hair bounced and flew as I lifted my ass up and down on his
thick pole.  His fingers clenched into my hips, making them hurt but in a
most beautiful way.  Sweat dripped down our heads as we expanded our
pleasure, our ragged breathing filling the room.  I threw my head back and
pressed down a bit further, gasping as my body shook with tremors.  Weston
growled as the painful pleasure increased.  He doubled his efforts and the
couch shook and rocked as we let ourselves go to this wonderful new avenue
of forbidden delight.

	"I'm gonna cum," I whispered.

	"Wait for me," he hissed back.

	We rolled again, and I moved the silken rope so it was behind his
neck.  I pulled him in, and our lips hungrily met, as if we were famished,
and could only be sated by each other's love and passion.  His eyes met
mine, and they were full of feeling.

	"Now," he moaned.

	My tan flesh pressed against his pale flesh as our bodies were
rocked by what felt like atom bombs, but were powerful orgasms.  I could
feel his cock throb inside me as it desperately tried to fill me with his
cum, Weston's breath, hot on my neck as he panted for air, his fingers
clenching mine as his body shook from ecstasy.

	"Wow...Jesus." I said as Weston rolled off me, and took me into his
arms for post sex cuddles.

	"Yeah...that was...something else."

	His skin was flushed as he tried to recover.  In our passion, we
had kicked some of the cushions off.  They were scattered on the floor.
After a few minutes, I felt stronger, and down from my orgasmic high.

	"That was good.  I like it when we go longer, but sometimes, short
and sweet can be great too."

	"I agree," he said, kissing my collar bones while his fingers
traced lazy circles against my skin.

	"I had no idea you'd react like that.  I just wanted you to have a
brief moment of what it was like for me."

	"I...didn't expect it to enhance things.  I was thinking I'd go
limp.  It might have been different because I didn't feel in serious
danger.  Maybe...choking can be a thing in our films.  We'll put a poll up
for our viewers."

	"Regardless of what it says, we can swing the results to show what
we want."

	"Win if you can, lose if you must, but always cheat," Weston said
with a smile.  His finger was now circling my nipple.

	"Stop that, or I'll want more.  I have gymnastics practice and
can't be late."

	Weston pretended to pout, and I burst out laughing.  His eyes were
big and sad and shiny as if they were filled with tears.  His lower lip was
stuck out in an endearing way.

	"Sure," he grumped.  "Just fuck and run, I get it."  He rolled his
eyes with mock anger which made me giggle.

	"I do gymnastics, not track. I don't run anywhere.  I'd like to
drive.  A few hundred thousand dollars between me and Amber, and neither
one of us can get a car.  No credit until we're eighteen.  Twenty five to
rent a car.

	"No license, either," Weston chimed in.  "As soon as you and Amber
get your learner's permit, we'll take a road trip up and down the coast."

	"Why?"  I pushed my hair back with one hand, wondering how messy of
a ponytail it would wind up being for practice.

	"Once you get your permit, you need a certain number of hours with
a licensed driver in the car with you.  Fastest way?  Road trip.  Up and
down the coast.  Or even cross country.  Interstate 10 goes through all the
states on the Mexico border.  Ends up in Florida, I think."

	"Long way to go just to qualify for a license."

	"With how often your folks are home, you'd be in your thirties
before you got enough hours in."

	"In my thirties?"  I pondered a brief moment how things would be in
twenty years or so.  "I'd probably be married with kids."

	"Think your husband would be okay with you being the kind of film
actress you are?  Amber too?"

	"Somethings are better left unsaid.  Besides, we wear masks.  There
must be hundreds of tan young girls in the fucking film business."

	It was Weston's turn to laugh. "Fucking film business?  That's a
new way of saying porno.  I'm assuming you meant it as a verb, not
adjective.

	I snorted with laughter at the bemused look on his face.  "No, I
meant it rhetorically."

	We laughed again, and he held me close to his warm body.  I took a
quick shower to wash the scent of sex off me before I got dressed.  Weston
drove me to gymnastics practice.  I was first to arrive, so I headed off to
the locker room to change and get ready.  Amber had asked me to come to her
house after, so I blew Weston a kiss, as he drove off.

	During practice, Amber seemed...off somehow.  She was there
physically, but mentally, she was on Mars.  Or Venus, if you believe the
whole women are from Venus thing.  In gymnastics, mental focus is
crucial. If you let yourself slip for a fraction of a second, it'll throw
off your timing and rhythm.  You'll lose points.  You could also injure
yourself by not concentrating on your timing.  Better gymnasts than us had
gotten hurt because of a slight distraction.

	On the bus ride to Amber's house, she was quiet and looked out the
window the whole way.  I was kind of concerned.  I hoped she wasn't going
to hit me with the news that she was moving away.  A lot of people loved
films of Amber and me acting all innocent in public places, but getting
really hot and kinky in private.  She held my hand and squeezed it every
few blocks.  It felt more automatic than anything else.  We didn't care
what people thought.  We loved each other, so who cared if we held hands in
public?

	In her bedroom, I sat on her bed while Amber settled into her
computer chair.  There was a hiss from the leather covered padding as she
sat down.  I waited for her to speak.  I was prepared to wait.  Weston had
said he could come get me anytime.  Finally, she opened her mouth.  Closed
it.  Opened it again.  Sighing, she closed her mouth, and opened the top
drawer of her desk.  I looked inside.  What the hell was I looking at, and
what the hell did all this mean?

	Hey folks!  Thanks for waiting so patiently for the next chapter!
I hope you enjoyed reading it.  Again, sorry for the delay.  Working 60
hours a week does not make for lots of free time in which to write.  And
yes, work is important.  I can't pay bills with thank yous.  Anyway, stay
tuned for the next installment which I hope will take a shorter time than
this one.  As always, you're welcome to message me
fullmetalocelot12@gmail.com Also if you've been wanting to contact the
naughty Jedi, here's her contact info.  Her Twitter is @DawnHoniahaka and
her email is imanaughtyjedi@gmail.com