The sun finally fell behind the horizon, and the fundraiser drew to a close. The PTA had held a barbecue raising money to help the soon-to-be graduates take a senior trip in a couple of months, but darkness finally put an end to it. I'd been working the hot dog stand with a few of my girlfriends, treating ourselves pretty liberally to a box of white zin in between customers.
Now that the event was finally over, though, our crew rapidly dissipated, and before long I was left to finish the cleanup myself.
In the cramped concession stand, bending and stretching to put away the cash box, the buns, and the rest was a constant balancing act in tight quarters. I took the hairnet we were required to wear off, and my blonde hair fell free. I was wearing a "congratulations, graduates" T-shirt over a pair of black leggings. For an early forties mom, I honestly felt pretty good about how I looked. I was never very busty, but the backside was my real moneymaker.
Twilight became night as I finally finished my wiping down and putting away. I was thinking about a hot bath and more zin when I got home. But the sound of the concession booth door opening changed all that.
I turned and looked, and saw a bunch of 18-year-old boys from the graduating class pushing their way inside.
I didn't like it from the moment I saw them, but at first I kept my fingers crossed that it was innocent.
"Sorry, boys, we're closed up for the night. All the food's put away."
One of them grinned at me. "All except for the most delicious morsel there is."
Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. I backed into the corner of the booth, up against the plastic folding table where we'd been pre-assembling dogs before people bought them.
It looked like seven boys. I recognized several who either hung out with my son John or played sports with him. Most of them were athletic, tall, muscular young men, and their brawny bulk filled up the small booth completely. I felt crowded as soon as they were all in. And there was no hope of leaving. The group of them blocked the door completely.
Appealing to the one I knew best from his friendship with John, I stammered out, "Derek? What's going on here?"
He answered my timid, desperate look with a wolfish grin. "You're getting gangraped, Mrs. K."
My mouth dropped open and my eyes went wide. All the color drained out of my face. I was afraid of it, but I hadn't expected quite that direct of a response.
I jibbered out some incoherent rejoinder which consisted mostly of the words "no" and "please" repeated over and over again. No effect at all. The group of them closed in, crowding me, until their hands were on me, all over me, groping me.
I moved my own hands in response, trying to push them away, but two hands are no match for a hundred, which is how many it felt like. Of course it could only be about 14 max, but to judge by the way fingers and palms were absolutely everywhere, I could be forgiven for overcounting.
This was real! This was happening! Scared out of my mind, for a moment all I could do was whimper as tears fell down my cheeks. Finally I sucked in a huge breath for a scream, but by then it was too late. A strong, young hand slapped over my mouth, and my attempt to summon help was muted. Their laughter made more noise than my shriek did.
I kept trying to push their hands off my breasts, my butt, my sex, but that didn't last. Soon two of the boys grabbed my arms and held them. Their young muscles far overpowered my own.
I tried to kick, but that only resulted in two more of them holding my legs. Even my thighs, exercised on the stairstepper every day in the gym, weren't strong enough to overpower these varsity athletes.
There I was, all four of my limbs restrained, a hand over my mouth muffling my shouts, and Derek, who for some reason I had imagined would actually help me, instead stepped up to me.
"The harder you fight, the more this'll hurt, Mrs. K. Just lean back and take it. None of us are gonna try for endurance tonight. We'll be done with you in less than an hour. Who knows? You may even like it."
He looked away from me and down at the two boys holding my legs. "OK, guys, lets get her yoga pants off."
I tried to kick, not so much to hurt them, just to resist being disrobed in front of all of them. But the two holding my legs were too strong. Derek put his hands in my waistband and pulled down, peeling my leggings and blue cotton briefs down.
The worst of it was, my body betrayed me. As my pants came down and first my pubic hair, then more, were revealed to members of the opposite sex, I felt heat rising from between my legs and my nipples stiffening. It was just instinct, I couldn't help it, but I felt mortally ashamed of it, blushing to the roots of my hair.
When I felt the cool spring air on my sex, I tried to scream harder than ever, but the hand over my mouth kept it from carrying. That primal, gut-level response to sexual stimuli got stronger and stronger, and I felt the first hint of moisture between my legs.
Derek ran his fingers through my light pubic hair then touched my vulva.
"Pussy's wet, boys. This'll be easy."
