Sixteen-year-old Hitchhiker
Copyright© 2026 by Kathleen Simpson
Chapter 1
Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Cindy Taylor is sixteen years old. Having lived all her life in a small Missouri town, she is drawn by the lure of excitement to Los Angeles. Innocent and naive at the time of leaving home, she soon learns what it will take for her to get along.
Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Coercion Consensual Drunk/Drugged NonConsensual Rape BiSexual Fiction Group Sex Anal Sex First Oral Sex Prostitution
Cindy Taylor was lying on her bed pouring over the latest movie magazines she had bought at the drugstore. In the corner of her room, her record player was playing the latest records. Her walls were adorned with pictures of her favorite actors and singers. Chewing a wad of gum, she anxiously turned the pages of the magazine, looking at the pictures that filled the inside.
At sixteen, Cindy was fed up with her life.
She was tired of reading about the exciting, fun-filled lives that other people were leading and comparing them to her own drab existence. For her, life in Pleasant Hills, Missouri, was anything but exciting. Every day was the same as the last.
She would go to school, come home, do homework, have dinner, listen to her records, and then go to sleep. On Friday night, she would stay at a friend’s house, or vice versa. On Saturday night, she would go to a movie, and on Sunday, she would go to church with her family. On Monday, the week would start over. She was sick to death of it!
“Cindy, come on.
It’s almost time for dinner. I want you to set the table.”
Sighing, Cindy got out of bed and looked at her Spiro Agnew watch. Right on schedule, she thought, walking into the kitchen where her mother was putting the finishing touches on the dinner she had just prepared.
“Would you set the table, honey?” her mother said, not looking up from the number of pots on the stove.
“All right, Mom.”
“That’s a good girl.”
That’s right, Cindy thought to herself, I am a good girl. I’ve never even kissed a boy. Not really, anyway. Not a real kiss like in the movies. And then aloud, “Good grief.”
“Did you say something, dear?”
“No, Mom,” she said, concealing her displeasure with her life as it was.
“By the way, Cindy, I made your favorite tonight. Pot roast.”
Meriam Taylor knew that something was troubling her young daughter, but she wasn’t sure what. Cindy wouldn’t tell her. All she could do was hope it wasn’t anything serious and try to please her.
“Did you hear me? I made pot roast for you tonight,” she repeated.
“I heard you, Mom. Thanks.”
“All right, dear. Your father will be home soon. Why don’t you go and get washed up?” In the bathroom, Cindy heard the front door opening and then closing shut. It was her father.
“Meriam?”
“I’m in the kitchen, Sid.”
“Mmmm, smells good. What’s cooking?”
“Pot roast. I thought I’d make it for Cindy.”
“Yeah, sounds good. Christ, what a day!”
“I know. Well, you can relax now. Would you like a drink? I can fix it for you.”
“That’s okay. I’ll get it. Where’s Cindy?”
“Getting washed.”
“Cindy, come on. Dinner’s ready,” he called out.
“I’m coming, Dad.”
“How was school today?” he asked as she walked into the dining room.
“Okay, I guess.”
Cindy knew that that would be the extent of the conversation she would be involved in for the night. It was always the same. He would ask how school went and she would say all right.
“There we go,” Meriam said, setting the roast down in the middle of the table alongside the plates of vegetables.
While her parents discussed the day each of them had, Cindy ate quietly, trying to imagine what famous people were doing right at that moment. She was sure it was something more exciting than eating pot roast and listening to talk about hardware and washing machines that needed repair.
After finishing her meal, she asked to be excused. As she walked back to her room, she heard her mother saying how something was bothering her and not knowing what it was.
“Well, she’s just at that age, I suppose,” her father said. “Probably some boy at school.”
Inside her room, Cindy closed the door and lost herself to the world of singers and actors and Hollywood.
How often had she dreamed about it? She had never been out of Pleasant Hills, but she was sure she knew what it looked like. From glimpses on postcards and in the movies, she knew it to be a city of hopes and promises; glittering, clean, and new; a world and a half removed from the drabness of Missouri.
“Cindy, there’s a phone call for you.”
“All right, Mom.”
Getting out of bed, she walked back into the living room. Sitting down on the couch, she put the receiver to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Cindy. This is Karen.”
“Hi, what’s happening?”
“Oh, not too much. My folks decided to go to a movie tonight, so I’m stuck here babysitting my brother.”
“I can come over and keep you company if you want.”
“Hey, that sounds like fun. We can listen to some records and junk.”
“Just a second.” Turning away from the phone, Cindy called out to her mother. “Mom, would it be all right if I went over to Karen’s house for a while?”
“I guess so. Just don’t be gone too long. You’ve got school in the morning.”
“Karen, yeah, my mom said it would be all right. I just can’t stay over too long, whatever that means. I’ll be over in a few minutes. Bye.”
Hanging up the phone, Cindy went into her room to get a sweater and some records. Saying goodbye, she walked out of the house and headed down the block to Karen’s house. When she got there, Karen was waiting at the door.
“Hi, come on in.”
Once inside, Karen closed the door and the two girls walked into the living room.
“Just a second and I’ll get a couple of cokes.”
Cindy took off her sweater and set it down on the couch. When Karen returned, she was carrying two bottles of cola.
“Come on. We can go into my room.”
Cindy followed Karen down the hall to her bedroom. It was much like hers with the pictures tacked onto a bulletin board and the record player in the corner and the movie magazines piled on a bookshelf.
“Wow, what a drag,” Karen complained. “Every time my folks decide to go out, I have to stay home and take care of my brother.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s one good thing about not having any brothers or sisters.”
“It sure is,” Karen observed. “You’re lucky as hell.”
“Karen!” Cindy gasped.
“Oh, it’s all right. No one is around to hear me.”
“Still, you shouldn’t talk like that.”
“I’ll tell you, Cindy. There are lots of things I shouldn’t do, but life would really be a drag if I didn’t.”
Getting up from the bed, Karen put a record on the phonograph.
“Have you heard Grand Funk’s new one?”
“No, not yet,” Cindy said.
“Wow, it’s really something else. You know. Far out!”
Cindy envied Karen. They were both the same age and had both grown up together, but they were so different. Cindy was always the good one, never doing or saying anything that might shock someone else and always going along with the crowd—as long as it was the right crowd. Karen was just the opposite. She was free-wheeling and often seemed older than sixteen. She was the first one to go to school without wearing a bra and she was the first one to wear a micro-mini, all of which sent shock through the teachers and pleasurable speculating amongst the ways. While some of the more daring girls copied her, others, like Cindy, just envied her.
“Isn’t that too much!” Karen rasped, talking about the record.
“Yeah, it is,” Cindy agreed, raising the bottle of coke to her lips and swallowing the cold liquid that rushed into her mouth.
“Say, have you heard the latest about Peggy Morrison?” Karen asked, her voice practically bubbling over.
“No, what?”
“Well, you know how everyone said that she left town to go to school in Massachusetts.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I just found out that she was pregnant and her folks shipped her off to some home in Dallas to have the baby.” The gleam of excitement in Karen’s eyes was unmistakable.
“You’re kidding!” Cindy rasped. “Pregnant?”
“Yup. That’s the word.”
“Who did you hear it from?”
“I shouldn’t really say—”
“Come on, Karen! We’re best friends, aren’t we?” Cindy pleaded.
“Well, all right. Since we are best friends.” Karen’s voice lowered to a whisper. “You know I’m going with Rick Phillips, right? Well, he said that a friend of his from Kansas City was staying over at his house for a couple of days last summer and that while he was there he banged Peggy and got her knocked up. The guy—his name was Jim—told Peggy’s folks all about it, but there wasn’t anything they could do but send her off to have the baby. Isn’t that wild?”
“Well, why didn’t they just—you know—”
“You mean, get an abortion?”
“Yeah, wouldn’t that have been easier?”
“Sure, but this isn’t New York. Christ, if anyone here ever did that, they would be run out of town so fast their head would spin.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Cindy agreed, reflecting on the Puritan ethics that prevailed in that area.
“Karen, can I talk to you? In confidence, I mean.” Cindy had to talk with someone she could trust. She couldn’t keep her feelings inside any longer.
“Sure, what’s it about?”
“You promise not to breathe a word to anyone no matter what?”
“Cross my heart.” Karen made a symbolic slash across her left breast.
“Have you ever wanted to just leave this place? I mean, just pick up and go.”
“Sure. Who hasn’t!”
“I’ll tell you, it’s getting so I can’t stand it anymore. I want to be like you so much, but I can’t do it here. God, I can hardly breathe.”
“What do you want to do?”