Big Tits

I would like to acknowledge a few people:

I have been blessed since trying my hand at writing. After my first story I was ready to give up. Thankfully I was fortunate enough to get some help for a very kind man (Charlie) Who helped me understand.

Since Charlie I have had several people offer advice and editing skills. At some point I need to say acknowledge and say thanks to them all. Charlie, Vicki, Marina, Robyn. At some point they all helped me.

For this story I was fortunate to have the help of two very good writers in their own rights offer to help. So I need to say thank you too, Randi and Steve. Thanks, guys, I appreciate your help.

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Life can be cruel. Sometimes it can be downright terrible.

I woke in the dark; all I could feel was the cold hard hand crushed over my mouth. I panicked, kicking, flailing my arms wildly, trying to scream through the clammy flesh covering my mouth. My eyes focused, I stared up into the cruel merciless eyes of my foster father. He leaned in close, his horrible beer and cigarette tainted breath cloaking me in his dank putrid smell, his evil spittle dripping, spraying my face. “Keep your mouth shut. Now stop kicking. I promise you will enjoy this,” he said with an evil snigger.

His free hand ripped off the blankets, exposing me to his hungry eyes.

*****

As a young girl trapped in the system, I felt I had seen it all. Having endured countless foster homes since I was seven years old, I became hardened to the world. I was smart, smarter than the bastards who lectured and preached to me, every fucking day. School teachers, counsellors, all of them so smug, so confident, so fucking pompous. They thought they knew better than me what I wanted. Well, fuck that shit.

Hah, they knew shit. I knew way more than they gave me credit for. Not all foster parents are kind loving people. Some are just in it for the money. Some are just sadistic fuckers. I learned at a young age what many of the so-called devoted fathers wanted.

Even the priests at church were no better. Okay, I might be bitter and twisted. Angry with my mother who ran off with some no-good fucking loser. Angry at the world because it felt like everything and everybody was against me. My protection: I grew a thick skin, I rebelled, I fought back, and consequently moved from foster home to foster home. I hated them all; goody two shoes do-gooders. They didn’t love me; they didn’t want me; they didn’t even care about me. They either wanted the money, the glory, or something much more despicably sinister. What is the glory of being a foster parent? They don’t do it for love. They do it so they can boast to anybody who will listen how great they are. Look at me, helping this disgusting little child. I hated them, one and all.

I rebelled. I shoplifted. I thought I was so clever. I stole whatever I wanted, until they caught me. It escalated after that. My ambitions exceeded my ability. It all exploded when I stole my foster parents’ car, some friends and I stole some booze from their parents for a huge beach party. We lit a big roaring bonfire, music blaring. It was cool until one of the boys decided what I really needed was a good fuck.

The kick to his nuts must have hurt like hell because he dropped like a stone. Of course, some of the other boys held me back. I was actually frightened; I saw the look in their eyes. That’s when I panicked. I kicked, I punched, screamed and yelled until they freaked out and let me go. I ran I ran like the wind. Jumping in the car, I locked the doors and sped away.

I was so scared I couldn’t take my eyes off the rear-view mirror. Guess I should have been watching the road. After that, all I could remember was flashing lights, the world upside down and the smell of gasoline.

I woke up in hospital. My supposedly caring loving foster parents came to visit, not to visit or check on me, just to yell and scream. Complaining that I had wrecked their car. I was a tramp and a thief. They left me there, with nowhere to go, except back to the orphanage.

I was stuck in there for months. In reality, I liked the orphanage. The nuns were nice and actually cared for us. At least I could sleep at night without worry.

As luck would have it, I was placed with another family. I hated it. The woman was old and so religious. Her husband, the fucking creep, only wanted me for one thing, and I promised myself he wasn’t getting that from me.

I ran away god knows how many times. I hated it. Time after time I escaped their clutches, only to be dragged back kicking and screaming. At school, I gravitated towards the wild kids. We smoked weed, drank and hung out together; we were a gang, a crazy crowd. I know I seemed like a crazy little bitch, and I suppose I was. Clever though, smarter than the average bear. At school, my grades were excellent, I didn’t even have to try. It pissed off my teachers. It was just one long never-ending canlı bahis şirketleri lecture about how good I could be if I would just put some effort in, if I would only try. Fuck them, what did they know?

Books, they were my escape. I didn’t watch television, I read books. I loved books, more than anything else in the world, I loved to read. I read anything I could get my hands on. I absorbed everything and that knowledge made me dangerous. It gave me enough information that I knew something about everything, enough to have an opinion, but not enough to understand.

One Saturday night I ran away again. This time, the party was at a friend’s house. His parents were away. It was a wild night and there was plenty of good smoke and booze. I got hammered. Like always, I got drunk or stoned so I could forget. I never really fit in with any of this crowd. They were wild though, and it allowed me to hide. I hung with them for what they offered: free drugs and booze. Part of my tough exterior, my façade, meant I always showed off. I had to be the wildest, the craziest. Nothing was too dangerous or stupid. I did any stupid shit I could to try and fit in.

On this particular night, the party got way out of control. The crowd grew to huge proportions, mostly much older kids and adults. There were cars doing burnouts in the street, cutting up the neighbours’ lawns, knocking over letterboxes. The music was loud, blasting, and one guy brave enough to come and complain got severely beaten for his troubles. Of course, it didn’t take long before the inevitable. The neighbours called the cops to break it up.

They turned up with lights flashing. The clever kids all made a run for it. The cops chased away the more sober kids.

Me, I exploded, trying to be the big shot. I stood up to them, started calling the cops names, pushing and shoving creating a ruckus. Of course, it ended with me getting arrested, well, detained really. My foster family was called. Already at their wits end, they refused to come and pick me up. They wanted nothing more to do with me. I don’t blame them really.

In their shoes, I might have done the same.

I was chucked in the police car and driven to the station. I wasn’t old enough to be locked up with the other prisoners. It was after midnight, and I heard them phoning around trying to get somebody to take me. My reputation shot that down, like it or lump it they were stuck with me. they were at a bit of a loss what to do with me after that.

Strangely, the big barrel-chested cop who arrested me, the one whose ankles I had kicked, whose face I spat in, said he would take me home with him. He said he and his wife would look after me until a decision on my future could be made.

I was handcuffed to a chair in the corner until the end of his shift. When it was time to go, he came over and unlocked me. “Come on young lady.”

He packed me into his car and we drove off. “Why are you doing this?” I snarled.

He gave me a big smile and sighed. “That, young lady, is a damn fine question. I wish I had the answer.”

“I’m not having sex with you,” I spat out angrily.

He laughed again, this time he laughed so hard I thought he was going to burst. “Chelsea, If I wanted to have sex with you, we would have already done it.”

I frowned at his stupid comment. With my arms folded across my chest I glanced at him. He was big, I mean linebacker big. His brown eyes were warm. He seemed real. Scruffy, but honest. His dark hair was untidy. Obviously not cut by a barber. I just couldn’t understand why he was doing this. What did he want, what was his deal?

We pulled up outside a small house. It wasn’t anything special.

He left the car locked so I couldn’t jump ship while he walked around and opened my door. “Come on, young lady. Let’s go in and meet the family.”

Gripping my arm, he pushed me in front of him. As we approached the rear door it flew open and a black woman stood staring at me. A tiny pixie-like black woman, with a wild afro hairstyle. Her huge almond eyes, warm face and friendly smile welcomed me in. “Hello, Chelsea.” Her voice rich and warm. A slight accent from who knows where. Obviously not from around here. What the fuck… a black woman? I glared at him with questioning eyes. Nah, not him. She looked way too nice to live with a fucking cop.

She opened her arms, and before I could move or do anything, I was wrapped in her arms. She rocked us both as she hugged me. “Chelsea, I am so glad you decided to bless us by staying here with us. I am Serena.”

“Decided,” I sneered. “It’s not like I had a fucking choice.”

Her eyes darkened, her brow furrowed. Her voice, though, remained smooth and warmly inviting. “What will be, will be. Nonetheless, I am just glad you are here with us.”

She opened her arms and Phil, the cop, slipped into her arms as well. “Hey, Babe. God, damn you smell good.”

She kissed him with a deep unrelenting passion. “I am happy you are home. I will get canlı kaçak iddaa some food.”

That’s how I was welcomed into their home. Serena hurried into their little kitchen and rustled around before bringing out toasted sandwiches. Phil welcomed the food’s arrival with a “Yum.” I watched as he ate in huge mouthfuls. Serena burbled. “Come, hurry, eat up,” as she waved her hands at me. Tentatively, I reached out, picking up one of the sandwiches. As I ate, I realised how hungry I was. It had been a long night. I ate in silence as Phil brought Serena up to speed on his night.

Serena’s eyes never moved she watched me devour the first sandwich. I dearly wanted another, but was anxious about appearing impressed or eager. The last thing I wanted was these two thinking I was that easy, or god forbid, nice. Serena, though, had other ideas. She pushed the plate towards me and the delicious smell won out. I hungrily grabbed the next, and it was gone in seconds. Serena took the empty plate and came back with a glass of Coke for me and a beer for Phil. I sensed she wanted to talk, but was nervous.

“Nice sandwich,” I muttered.

She replied with a smooth, “You are welcome.”

She sat down beside Phil, who took a long, satisfied gulp of his beer. “What brings you to our home?”

I shrugged casually, as if I didn’t know or care. Phil jumped in. “She was at a party that got out of control. She started yelling and screaming. Kicked old Jacobson in the nuts. We couldn’t lock her up. Nowhere, or nobody else would take her. So here we are.”

I gave him a sullen glare.

“Where do you live Chelsea?” she asked.

I replied with a shrug. Phil answered again. “Well, she used to live over on Grandholm, but she has burned her bridges there. In fact she has burned her bridges everywhere. Apparently, her current foster family are at their wits end and refused to take her back.” He gave Serena a knowing look. “I spoke with them and there’s no way they will have her back.”

Serena nodded. “Well, tomorrow you will need to go and pick up her things.”

Phil frowned. As if I wasn’t there, he snapped indignantly, “Serena, she’s not staying here, well only for tonight. Tomorrow, she will become Child Protective Services problem.”

She gave him a dark glare. “This girl is not going into a home. She will be staying with us.”

“Shit, Honey, we can’t do that. There are protocol’s, rules. We can’t just keep her.”

Serena scowled. “We will make it happen.”

I jumped up. “Who said I even want to stay here? You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not the boss of me.”

She glanced sadly at me. “We will not force you, Chelsea. It will be your decision. But I would love you to stay.”

She stood and walked over towards me. I stepped back, staggering as she neared. With my back pressed against the wall, I ran out of room. There was no escaping her. She was upon me. Her arms again circled me.

I stood, with my arms dangling by my sides, trapped by her body as she hugged me. Our bodies rocked back and forth. “Stay with us, Chelsea, please. We want you to stay.”

I felt weird. Nobody had ever said that before. “Why?” I whimpered.

She took my face in her hands and stared into my eyes. “I have been where you are. I know what it feels like to be without family, and it is not nice.”

She leaned in and kissed me on the lips. “Come, I will show you where you can sleep.”

Her body smelled nice: earthy, rich. She wore some magical overpowering perfume. She smelt wonderful.

My defiance was done. I was tired, still wobbly from the booze. She led me into a bedroom with a cot in the corner. “That is Edward, our son.”

She pulled back the blankets on the single bed, “I will get you some clothes to wear.

She returned with a pair of cotton pyjamas. She was much older than I was, somewhere in her early thirties, but she was so tiny we were the same size.

She started to undress me until I swiped away her hands. “What the fuck?” I snapped.

She glared at me harshly. “We do not swear in this house. Especially in front of Edward.” She waved me away. “You can dress yourself. I will see you in the morning.”

The moment she was gone, I decided the window should be my first stop. Could I get out? I opened it slowly, trying to be quiet. I eased it off the latch and was just about to try and climb out. As I hoisted my foot up onto the sill, I saw a dark figure out of the corner of my eye. “Going somewhere?” Phil asked.

I sighed, defeated. I pulled the window shut and went back to get changed.

They couldn’t keep me. I decided I would stay the night and figure out my escape in the morning.

I slipped between the sheets, but I could hear their voices; they were arguing. I snuck out, down the hallway until I could peek around the door into the lounge.

“Serena, we can’t take her in,” Phil growled. “That girl is nothing but trouble. She has been in so many homes. It seems like she’s been in trouble her whole life.”

“That canlı kaçak bahis is the very reason we must help,” Serena purred softly. “You saw how scared she was. The poor girl was so frightened. She needs love.”

“Huh, scared. That girls not scared of anything.”

There was no talking for a minute. They cuddled together. I heard him whisper. “What about Eddie; do we really need a bad influence like her affecting him?”

Serena sighed. “She is pretending; that is not her. She will fit in I promise. She is beautiful.”

He let out a huge sigh. “Okay, Okay, you win. I will try. I make no promises. Shit, Hon, there are so many hoops we will have to jump through.”

She kissed him lightly on the lips. “They will all be worth it.”

“Hon, you heard her. She doesn’t want to stay here, anyway.”

“Rubbish,” Serena snapped. “She was scared, nervous and angry. She has a strong determination. I sense it. She will be a leader.”

“Christ, what have you got me into now.” He sighed in defeat.

I went back to the bedroom feeling uneasy. She actually wanted me to stay. Phil, though, didn’t seem impressed. Hah, bloody cop. As if I could actually live with a cop.

I was awakened later during the night. Disoriented and dazed, I lay quietly, trying to get my bearings. It came back to me as I focused my vision, I watched Serena nursing Edward. She sat in a chair with him wrapped in her loving arms, feeding him, rocking to-and-fro. The look on her face was pure love and devotion

After the feeding was completed, she tucked him back in with a sweet kiss, then moved over to my bed. I shut my eyes, pretending to sleep. She sat perched on the edge as she smoothed my hair out of my eyes. She leaned down, placing a warm wet kiss on my brow. “Sleep well, my gorgeous angel.”

In the morning, I awoke to find Serena making breakfast. The table was laden with toast and scrambled eggs.

As I walked out to the kitchen, she smiled so warmly, so lovingly. It was weird, but felt right. “Good morning, Chelsea. I hope you like eggs.”

I nodded as she gestured for me to sit. Phil was already almost finished. Edward sat in his highchair, trying to figure out who the new chick was.

Serena encouraged. “Eat up, little one.”

Once I started, there was no stopping, I was famished, and the food good. As I ate, she said, “Phil is going to go to your old foster home and get your belongings. Do you want to go with him?”

“No!” I snapped quickly.

She nodded. “You weren’t happy there?”

I shook my head as I finished off another slice of toast with sweet marmalade. “Then you do not have to go.”

Phil grumbled. “But I don’t know what’s hers.” He looked across the table at me. “Is there anything special I need to look out for?”

I shook my head. “Come with me. I will show you the bathroom,” Serena said.

As we went to walk out, Edward started screaming and she scurried back to pick him up. She hoisted him into her arms and cradled his head against her chest.

He instantly stopped crying and nestled in closer. She started to walk past me, and the little boy reached out to me. For some stupid reason, I poked my finger at him and he grabbed it, holding on tightly.

Serena laughed loudly. “You have a new friend.”

As we walked up the hallway, Edward kept holding my finger. He tugged it to his mouth where he sucked on it, slobbery drool going everywhere. “He is teething,” Serena purred softly.

She showed me the shower. “I will get you something to wear.”

I stripped and climbed into the shower. Serena returned and just barged in as I was rinsing my hair. I folded my arms across my chest in embarrassment. She smiled. “There’s no need for modesty. I have seen breasts before.”

She dropped the clothes in a pile and walked out, still carrying Edward.

When I moved back to the kitchen, Phil was gone and Serena was washing the dishes. Edward played noisily in his playpen. I picked up a tea-towel and started to dry the dishes. Nothing was said for a while until Serena asked, “Why are you so mad at the world?”

I shrugged. “I don’t hate the world. The world hates me.”

She sighed. “That seems impossible. An attractive charming girl like yourself.”

I laughed loudly as I tried to figure out if she was being sarcastic. As I peeked at her, I saw the corners of her mouth curl slightly.

“Do you enjoy your school? Do you have friends there?”

I shook my head. “None that I would miss.”

“That is good, because if you stay with us, you will need to start in a new one,” she said.

When I didn’t reply, she whispered, “Please stay with us. I would love to have a beautiful daughter like you.”

“Where are you from?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.

“I am from Sierra Leone.”

“Why did you come here?”

She frowned. “I had no choice. I was trafficked here as a prostitute when I was still a child.”

Now I was shocked. “You… a hooker?”

She sniggered snidely. “Yes, a sex worker. I was stolen from my family in Freetown, kidnapped and then sold.”

Aghast, I spluttered stupidly. “What? You can’t sell people. It is illegal.”

She rubbed my shoulder. “For a clever girl, you are very naïve.”

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