Incident at Ernie's Back to M Back to main page

Collected by Djian

Another story by Drake

Incident at Ernie's
(M/f, incest, nc, humil, interracial, D/s - and daydreaming)

By William Drake

"William Drake" <mast_1945@hotmail.com>


Prologue

Heather Morgan lay awake in bed, listening to the gentle breathing
of her husband. She didn't need to look at the digital clock on her bedside
stand. She knew it was a little after 3:00. Three in the damn morning!

She knew there was no rational reason for her wakefulness. She'd
just had the most satisfying sex ... truthfully, the first really satisfying
sex ... she'd had in their five months of marriage. What kept her from
sleeping was her own knowledge of why that act of sex had been so
fulfilling. What kept her from sleeping started with the memory of what had
happened to her eight years ago.

She'd been just fifteen ... a sophomore in high school. The dance
had been held in her high school gym. It was her first one, and she'd been
excited when Kenny had asked her to go. Her father had been hesitant, but
for once her mother's pleading had prevailed. She'd been crushed when, only
minutes after arriving, Kenny had practically deserted her to fawn over
Beth. Beth, who was widely known to spread her young, rounded legs for
almost every guy in the school. Heather had been left sitting alone at the
table when a young, black classmate of hers had asked her to dance. For a
moment, she'd frozen. Every rant that her bigoted father had shouted out at
the dinner table over the years ... her father's conviction that all
"niggers" were animals ... out solely to rape white women ... flashed
through her mind. But sitting there alone had left her feeling so
embarrassed. Finally she'd smiled and let him lead her out onto the dance
floor.

When she'd glimpsed Kenny watching her, Beth rubbing her body
against his, his eyes wide with surprise, she'd moved in closer to her
partner. She'd rubbed her tits across his chest ... tits which were
virtually the largest in her sophomore class ... tits which she was secretly
proud of ... across his chest. When he'd responded ... when she'd felt the
hardness in his groin pressing against her thigh ... she'd practically
melted in his arms. She was innocent enough that she'd never actually seen
a boy's generative organ, but she'd seen pictures. She had a sudden
vision.of the dark slab of meat brushing against her belly, and she was
suddenly more sexually aroused than she'd ever been in her fifteen years.

It hadn't gone beyond that. Two dances on the floor of a high
school gym. That had been it. But someone had told her father. She never
found out who. But she'd never been able to forget the violence of his
reaction. He hadn't spanked her for years, but the next night she'd ended
up sprawled across his knee, her skirt up to her waist and her panties
yanked down to her knees. He'd called her "slut," "whore," and "bitch,"
each name accompanied by by the flat of his hand slamming his still-maturing
daughter's ass-cheeks.

She'd squirmed around, squealing protests, and she couldn't help
noticing the hard bulge that grew under her belly. Nor that his slaps
became softer and farther apart. Nor that occasionally his hand rested on
her squirming butt ... squeezing ...

She'd been dumped on the floor when he rose. He'd walked nearly
side-ways, neither facing her nor meeting her eyes as he disappeared into
the bathroom. He'd stayed in there an uncommonly long time. And he'd never
raised the subject again. Nor had she. But that night she'd lain in bed
imagining that long, black organ rubbing against her as her fingers moved
down between her sweet, young thighs.

That had been the first night ... the first of many over the ensuing
eight years that she'd lain in bed remembering. But for all her
self-stimulation, she had retained her virginity until the day she married
Phillip.

The night of her wedding had been a disappointment. True, she had
found some degree of pleasure in feeling his hands on her body. She had
found even more in the feel of his swollen organ under her own hand. But
the thrill ... the excitement ... had been nothing like the descriptions
she'd read. And the actual intromission ... well, it had been virtually
nothing like she had imagined. Tonight she'd finally had to admit to
herself that the only times she'd really enjoyed herself in the dozens of
times Phillip had taken her were nights when she'd closed her eyes ...
imagined a big, black man holding her down ... jamming himself into her
unwilling belly.

Until tonight, that is. Tonight it had been different. And she
knew what the difference had been. It had started at Brenda and Bill's
place. They were the most 'modern' couple that the young newlyweds knew.
And this night they'd outdone themselves. After dinner with them and two
other young couples, they had all sat around, talking and drinking wine.
Heather had imbibed a bit more than her usual, and both she and Phillip had
been too embarrassed to protest when Brenda began gushing about a "hot" new
DVD they'd picked up. So they'd sat there and watched it. It had been a
collection of vignettes ... scenes from various porno movies. It wasn't the
first time their hosts had shown those kinds of movies, but in this one all
of the scenes were oriented toward rape.

One in particular had struck Heather. It had opened on a young
brunette asleep in her bed. She was dressed in a teddy and had kicked most
of her covers off. The camera had lingered lovingly on her bare, shapely
legs. Then a man had quietly entered the room. He was big, and he was
black. He had grinned down at the sleeping woman, then he had unzipped his
pants and drawn out his penis. While he licked his lips and began slowly
stroking himself, Brenda had laughed, making lewd comments as to whether any
of the four men in the room could "match" him. Heather had known damn good
and well that Phillip couldn't! The actor's ebony organ was huge!

When he'd jammed his large, dark hand over the woman's mouth ...
when her eyes had snapped open well-acted in alarm ... Heather had felt her
pussy turn into a swamp. When he pulled a knife from his pocket and placed
it against her ivory neck, the entranced young bride had squeezed her thighs
together and nearly orgasmed. She watched spellbound as the black man had
ripped open the neckline of the teddy, his hand grappling one white breast,
mauling it unmercifully.

A movement caught her eye. Bill had taken Brenda's wrist in his
hand and brought her hand to his lap. Brenda had discreetly pressed
downward as she grinned at her husband. Heather knew how liberal the couple
was, but she had trouble accepting the idea that her friend was, no matter
how discreetly, stimulating her husband so publicly.

A moan from the TV drew her attention back. The black man had put
his hands under the brunette's knees and had shoved them up to her chest.
As he laid between her lewdly spread thighs, Brenda had had to close her
eyes, certain that if she watched that broad, black organ inserting itself
into the woman's belly, she would have screamed out her own completion right
then and there!

There had been some good-natured teasing when Heather had urged
Phillip to leave almost as soon as the DVD finished. Their friends must
have sensed her sudden "need." And when they'd gotten back to their modest
but comfortable house, she'd behaved in a way that she never had in all of
her twenty-three years. She'd practically dragged him up to the bedroom
they shared, almost ripped her clothes getting them off, and had yanked her
poor, bewildered husband's pants down.

She'd even been tempted to do something else she'd never done ... to
actually mouth the cock that had reared itself before her! Some semblance
of propriety had remained however. She knew that such a change in behavior
would raise questions she wasn't prepared to answer. So she'd simply laid
back, spread her legs, and pulled him atop herself.

Phillip hadn't lasted two minutes once his cock sank into her pussy
and she began rocking her hips violently, but for once she didn't care. Her
eyes closed, she imagined him as the huge, black male in the movie, and
she'd begun a violent orgasm as soon as the tip of his organ had brushed
against her genitals.

Thankfully, her exhausted husband had gone to sleep immediately
thereafter. Now he lay there, sleeping the undisturbed sleep of the just.

But Heather Morgan was awake ... awake and wondering ...

The Story

She'd expected to be nervous. In the ten days since the evening at
Brenda and Bill's, she'd thought of little else. And since she'd taken
Phillip to the airport for his business trip this morning, she'd spent the
day practically shaking with apprehension. Waiting at home for him to call
from Philadelphia, she'd felt so uncertain that she hadn't thought she could
actually go through with this. Afterwards, while driving the fifty miles to
the city where she was sure she knew no one, she was barely able to keep her
vehicle on the road. She'd driven around the West End ... the area that was
almost totally populated by blacks ... for a half an hour ... looking. But,
once she'd seen the club ... the simple crude sign that said simply
"Ernie's" ... saw the half-dozen black men hanging around in front of it ...
she'd felt a sudden calm settle over herself.

Now here she was ... sitting at the bar, sipping her drink ... and
feeling so strangely ... relaxed.

Heather looked around the darkened club. There were only two other
whites in the place ... both women. One sat in a booth in the back, a black
man on either side of her. Her blouse was open and one of the men had his
hand inserted in it. She could see movement under the cloth, indicating the
man was roughly fondling her breast. The woman's head was thrown back ...
her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly open. One of her hands was
under the table, apparently in the lap of the second man. The way her arm
was moving gave Heather no doubt that she was stroking the man's penis. The
other white woman was dancing with a black man. Both of her hands were
between the two of them. Their bodies blocked a direct view, but the
expression on the man's face made it clear that her fingers were on the same
mission as those of the woman in the booth.

Heather imagined herself in the place of those women. As she did,
she felt her pussy begin to moisten. She looked down at the three opened
buttons of her blouse exposed a considerable amount of cleavage ... at the
way her short skirt exposed her shapely legs. She'd never dressed this way
in public in all of her life. And it wasn't going unnoticed. It was a
Monday evening but there were about twenty people in the place. There were
five or six black women, but most were men, and every single one of them had
been looking her way.

"See anything you like?" Heather jerked at the sound of the voice.
Looking to her right, she saw the black woman who'd moved to stand at the
bar next to her. The words may have come across as challenging, but the
tone had been friendly, and the woman was openly smiling at her. Assessing
the woman quickly, Heather's eyes scanned her. An inch or so taller than
her, the negress had a voluptuous body, well displayed by the tight slacks
and tube top.

"I ... uh ..." Heather had expected one of the men to eventually
approach her. She hadn't expected one of the half-dozen or so black females
to acknowledge her. She didn't know exactly what she should say.

"That's okay, honey," the woman laughed. "Hell, my husband's eyes
have been bugging out looking at that body of yours. He wouldn't be a man
if they weren't."

"You ... uh ... you don't mind?"

The woman leaned in closer and whispered, "You think you're the only
white babe who likes a little taste of dark meat? We get them in here all
the time, sweetheart." The woman smiled at her. "Besides, he don't want to
leave me and marry you, sweetheart. He just wants to fuck you." She picked
up her drinks and left, giving Heather no time to even think how to respond.
For the first time since entering the club, the young blonde considered
leaving.

"Wanna dance, baby?"

Looking back to her left, Heather saw the black man standing next to
her, grinning down at her. He was an inch or two over six feet, with broad
shoulders. For some reason, her gaze fixated on his mouth. His teeth
seemed to gleam against the dark background of his face. She found herself
sliding forward from her stool, thrilling a little at the knowledge that her
movement drew her tight skirt almost up to her butt, knowing that he and any
other of the men watching her were getting quite a show, and letting him
take her hand before she even had a chance to consider the implications of
action.

On the dance floor, he didn't give her a chance to adopt the
standard ballroom dance posture. He slid both hands around her waist and
pulled her body against himself. Heather looked around the floor. There
were three other couples out there ... all black. All three of them were
grinding themselves slowly against each other. She willed herself to loop
her hands behind the man's neck and press herself against him. She was
instantly rewarded with the same sensation she'd felt eight years before ...
the feel of a hard column of flesh against her belly.

"You like the feel of that, baby?" She raised her head and looked
up at him. He was smiling down at her. His hands slipped lower, almost
cupping the swelling cheeks of her ass, and their pressure caused her hips
to move slightly from side to side, rubbing herself across his hardness.
"Your ring says you're married. Isn't hubby giving you enough?"

Heather's mind went completely blank. She'd been honest enough to
admit to herself why she'd come here ... how else could she explain what the
hell she was doing here? But to openly say it ... to admit her own need ...

The black man chuckled as his hands dug into her ass through the
tight material of the skirt. But, when he spoke, his voice was deadly
serious and matter-of-fact. "Have you ever been fucked by a nigger, baby?
Or have you just imagined it at night while your hubby was snoring next to
you ... while your fingers played with your juicy, white cunt?"

The young blonde still couldn't speak, but she looked up at him,
shaking her head slightly, knowing that he'd know her negative gesture was a
lie!

Suddenlt he wasn't dancing anymore. He half turned away from her,
and the one hand remaining on her ass was propelling her toward a door.
Shocked, she realized that he'd danced her over next to the men's room, and
he was shoving her in that direction.

"No! I mean ... Not in there! I ... I can't!"

He didn't seem to hear her. His free hand opened the door and the
one cupping her behind shoved her forward so forcefully she almost stumbled
into the restroom. There was already a man there, standing by one of the
urinals, his dick in his hand. He looked up and, rather than react with
surprise, he grinned at her. Frantically, she spun back to the door, intent
only on making her getaway. She'd run. She'd run back to her car. She'd
race back to her small, safe house and she'd never again dream of lying
under a black man!

She never even got a step in. Her partner grabbed her by her
flowing blonde hair and forced her head back, his previous amusement now
replaced by a mean expression as he forced her to look up at him.

"Listen, bitch! You think you can come in here and tease me? You
think you can get me all nice and hard, then go running off?" His hand
twisted her hair, eliciting a moan of pain. "Not a chance, cunt!"

He yanked downward, forcing her knees to hit the stained, concrete
floor so hard she thought they might actually be broken. "Open my pants,
slut!"

She was thoroughly frightened now. Her eyes were wide as she looked
up at him, then struggled to unfasten his belt. He looked down at her, his
smile now cruel, as she unsnapped his waistband, falteringly drew down his
zipper, and lowered his pants. She gasped at the black snake that dangled
before her eyes. It was huge! At least, it was a good two inches longer
then Phillips', even though it was only half-hard! The head was broad,
darker then the rest of him, and the ball sac behind it was hairy and ebony
black. It exuded a scent ... the scent of sweat, maleness, and something
else she couldn't identify.

"Suck it!" he commanded.

Slowly Heather shook her head, her eyes pleading with him. "I ...
I've never ..."

"What? Never sucked a nice, big black one?" Looking down at her,
he suddenly laughed. "You mean you've never sucked a dick at all?" Heather
swallowed a sob as she shook her head. She heard a laugh off to the side.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw that the man who'd been at the urinal
had finished his business and stood there watching them. He hadn't bothered
to put his own penis back in his pants. Instead, he was slowly stroking it
as he watched the pair of them.

"Well, it's time you learned, bitch," her companion said. "And ...
lucky you ... you've got a nice, fat nigger one to start on!"

One hand was still wound in her hair. The other grabbed the back of
her head and jammed her face into his crotch. "Now ... get that sweet,
white mouth around my meat!"

Almost in self-defense, her mouth opened. The man jammed his
still-hardening cock into her mouth. Heather couldn't believe that she was
actually mouthing a man's genitals. It felt ... it felt right! Warm.
Thick. Throbbing. If her pussy had been moistening out there in the bar,
she knew it was flooding now! She longed to reach between her legs and
stroke it ... wished he had made her strip to make it open to her hand.

"Looks good, man," the watcher said enviously.

"Yeah." Her tormentor pulled her face in further, almost crushing
her nose against his black belly. Heather gagged as the head of his penis
probed at her throat. "There's nothing like fucking some cute, little white
cunt's mouth. Nice ... sweet ... suck ... job!" He groaned, punctuating
each syllable by driving his organ into the kneeling woman's salivating maw.

"What's the little whore's name?"

"Damned if I know. Just some stupid, white cunt." He drove himself
harder in and out of her mouth. Heather felt as if all she was was a mouth
... an opening that this powerful man was using as he would a blow-up doll
... a hole for his raging, black dick. "But she's about to get a stomach
full of my nigger scum."

She moaned, trying to beg him to slow down ... to not drive so
deeply ... but she was unable to make herself understood with the massive
column of meat crowding her mouth ... and he was in no mood to listen.

"Suck it, bitch! You know you love it! Suck my big, black dick!"

His breathing became quicker and shallower. He began to combine his
thrusts with a grinding motion of his hips.

"Oh .... fuck!" he howled. "Eat it, cunt! Drink my hot ... nigger
... CUM!"

No sooner had he groaned out his command then her mouth was flooded
with his warm, sticky juices. Heather struggled to swallow it, afraid of
what would happen if she gagged his offering up. It seemed to last forever.
She fought to breath at the same time she was gulping down his viscous
product.

Just when she thought she'd pass out, the stream died down to a
trickle. His hands ground her head against his belly a few more times.
Then he took a deep breath and pulled her head back. Almost cross-eyed, she
viewed the thin thread that connected her lower lip to his softening, black
organ.

He didn't say a word. He simply bent down, raised his pants, zipped
them up and left the restroom. Heather slumped down to sit on the floor,
dazed. Tears gathered in her eyes and she became aware that her unfulfilled
pussy was throbbing. 'It wasn't supposed to be like this,' she thought.
'He was supposed to ..." She couldn't bring herself to even think the
thought. All she could think was that she had to get home ... had to get
back to where she felt safe!

As she pushed herself to her feet, two hands roughly grabbed her.

"Strip!" the voice commanded.

She looked back at the man who held her ... the man who'd been
urinating when they'd entered the dirty restroom. Unable to speak, she
shook her head at him pleadingly. As easily as if she'd been a rag doll, he
shoved her against the wall. Her back hit between the two urinals.

"I said strip, you lousy little cunt! You think he's good enough
for you and I'm not?" He reached out and swiftly ripped her blouse open.
Buttons clinked on the rough, concrete floor. His hand levered one heavy
breast out of her thin bra and two fingers grabbed one hard nipple and
twisted it painfully. "Now get your fuckin' clothes off. I like to see
what I'm getting."

Heather choked back a sob. 'I have to,' she thought to herself.
'If I don't, he'll kill me.' The man licked his lips as she pulled the
remnants of her blouse from the waistband of her skirt, discarded the torn
garment, and removed her bra. His expression left her no doubt what he
wanted next. Silently, she unfastened her skirt and let it drop to her
feet, then bent down to push down her panties. Only then did she study the
man who stood in front of her. He appeared to be slightly younger than the
first one ... more broadly built ... something along the lines of a football
player. His cock was slightly shorter and had a smaller head, but the shaft
looked, if anything, to be thicker than the one she'd just pleasured with
her mouth. A detached part of her mind observed, 'They're different. I
never knew that.'

"Mmmmm! You're one nice piece of ass, sweetheart," he mumbled. He
wrapped one hand around her wrist and dragged her hand to his organ.
Instinctively, her fingers closed around it and she began stroking it up and
down. The guy reached his own hand out and cupped her pudenda. Two fingers
slipped very easily up her slick pussy. "Yeah! You're ready enough, bitch!
You really want some black dick, don't you?"

Heather said nothing. She couldn't. But she didn't resist him as
he stepped in closer, put a hand behind her knee, and easily lifted one leg
from the floor, depositing her foot degrading in the water-filled basin of
the urinal ... the same urinal he'd been pissing in when she'd entered the
room. The humiliation of that ... of her back pressed against the rough
wall ... her legs open ... two black fingers twirling in her soaking vagina
... her own hand holding and stroking this black stranger's erect penis ...
her foot trapped in the implement hundreds of black men had deposited their
piss in ... Never had she felt so much like an insignificant whore! And
never in her life had she ever felt so ... turned on!

When he bent his knees slightly and pressed himself up against her,
she automatically guided the head of his dick to her pussy. And when he
shoved his hips up, ramming his thick member into her belly, she bit her
lower lip to keep from crying out in joy! The picture in her mind ... the
image of herself backed up against the wall of this dingy men's room ... her
bare foot sloshing in the water of the urinal ... this burly, black stranger
cramming her cunt full of his thick nigger dick ...

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door to the bar itself was
open. Three or four men had come through and more were looking in from
outside. She saw at least one of the white women and a few of the black
broads were among them, openly laughing at her. Somehow their laughter
seemed to excite her even more. 'They think I'm a whore,' she thought.
'Just a bunch of white, juicy holes for their rough, primitive men to stick
their fat, black cocks into ... and run them in and out until they shoot me
full of their scummy loads. Just a cheap piece of meat!'

The warm rod jammed up into her belly seemed to be the whole reason
for her existence She heard a voice cry out, "Fuck me! Dammit ... fuck me
harder ... harder!" And she knew the voice was her own!.

As she tried to maintain her balance on one foot and the support of
this stranger's pubic region under her own, one of her hands crept around
behind him, seemingly of its own volition. She crammed it under his belt
and down to squeeze the flesh of his ass ... desperate to force him even
deeper into her groin. Each time he thrust in and up, her back was slammed
against the wall, from her shoulders to her squirming buttocks.

"Oh ... Gawd!" she screamed as the crowd seemed to move closer to
her. "I'm gonna ... I'm gonna ..."

With no more warning than that, a fire exploded in her belly that
seemed to spread out and consume her whole body. Everything ... this broad,
black man using her so brutally ... this non-too-well cleaned men's room ...
the watching crowd ... disappeared into a haze of unbelievable bliss.

As awareness came back, Heather found herself slumped against the
wall, one foot still resting in the cold water of one urinal, one hand on
the top of the other, holding her somewhat upright. She was acutely aware
of the river of cum that ran glistening down the inside of her sleek thigh.
And it seemed as if the whole bar were now standing around her, leering at
her nakedness.

One of the men reached out, grabbed the back of her neck, and shoved
her back down to the floor. Again, her knees struck the concrete hard and
her upper body fell forward onto her hands. The same man stood before her,
slowly pulled the thick leather belt from his pants, and doubled it in his
hand.

"Put your head on the floor, bitch," he growled. "And keep that
nice, fat, white ass of yours up in the air!" Without even thinking,
Heather obeyed him. A foot tramped down on her hair, keeping her face
trapped against the concrete. It wasn't the man's. She recognized the blue
and yellow stripes of the slacks of the woman who'd spoken to her earlier at
the bar. The others moved even closer, forming a ring around her as she
quaked in fear.

"AIGHHHHH ...." The young, white woman screamed as the man whipped
his belt down across her upturned ass. "Don't!" she screamed. "Please ...
don't! I'll do whatever you want! You don't have to ... Uhhhhhhhh ...." as
the belt struck again, this time across the tender backs of her snowy-white
thighs.

Straining to look up at the people surrounding here ... praying for
one merciful look ... instead, she saw only grinning faces. Most of the men
had opened their flies ... or their female companions had opened them for
them. What looked to her like a forest of stiff, dark-skinned penises
loomed over her. Again and again the man behind her swung, decorating her
from her waist to her knees with pinkish stripes. But her central body no
longer reacted with pain. Instead she felt ... warmth! She almost
regretted it when the thrashing stopped ... when she heard the belt fall to
the floor beside her badly scraped knees and she heard the sound of another
zipper being drawn down.

"Fuck her, DeJuan," the woman standing on her hair said. "Show this
white scum what a real man is!"

Unlike the first two men, this one took the time to remove his
pants. With his cock wriggling above her, he placed then between her legs
to protect his own knees, the knelt behind this young, dumb bitch. He sank
his hands into her vulnerable buttocks and squeezed. Licking his lips, he
parted the cheeks and his eyes were instinctively drawn to the tiny,
puckered opening that was designed more to expel than to accept. Grinning,
he jammed his thumb down into her bottom.

"No!" the woman screamed. "No! Not there! Please ... not my ...
not there!"

He paid her pleas no mind. Twisting his thumb around, he was
certain this was a virgin hole, and that alone would have been enough to
decide him.

"Fuck me! You can fuck me. Really! But you'll tear me! You'll
hurt me! Oh, god, please!"

Withdrawing his thumb, he took the base of his cock in his other
hand and placed the head against her quivering hole. His other arm looped
under her belly to hold her in place, then he leaned forward. This time he
laughed as she screamed out again, watching his bulky organ push her
sphincter down into her own rectum. He pushed harder, drawing her
mid-section back against him with his strong arm, until the bitch's anal
ring finally gave way and four inches of his stiff meat plunged into her
widely stretched anal cavity. He groaned, feeling the tight, tortured
muscle scraping over the sensitive surface of his dick.

Instead of screaming, all Heather could muster was a deep groan of
pain. She felt as if someone had shoved a baseball bat up her ass. Once
again, she forgot all the people gathered around her ... watching her so
cruelly used ... All she felt was the huge slab of meat beginning to grind
in and out of her poor, protesting asshole.

DeJuan Williams watched happily as he pushed his rigid organ up the
white slut's incredibly tight anus. Something about the contrast between
his own dark rod and the sheer whiteness of the pillowy assflesh that now
gripped it so firmly simply entranced him. He remembered the first behind
he'd fucked. He'd been only sixteen, and she'd been his older brother's
wife. Flo was a pretty little thing ... a bit on the chubby side, but with
a nice round ass and a marvelous set of tits. She'd teased him along for
weeks, and when they'd gotten to the point of actually fucking, he'd
admitted that he didn't have a rubber. Rather than risk getting pregnant,
his sister-in-law had simply turned her back on him, bent over, and purred,
"Then shove that sweetmeat up my butt, honey.". Sinking his dick up her
chocolate-colored behind had been thrilling enough, but having this blonde,
white slut give up her tail to him was even more so!

Once his belly was pressed tightly up against her cheeks ... once he
could feel her slick, rectal walls embracing the full eight inches of his
meat ... he leaned over her back, grasped her full, dangling tits, and sank
his fingers into their pliant flesh. He used them roughly as handles, first
drawing half his length out of her butt, then pulling her back as he plunged
himself forward and deeper.

Heather whimpered under his onslaught, giving herself up to his
plundering. The pain in her ass now seemed to enflame her belly and she
wished that he'd use one of the strong hands mauling her tits down between
her legs. 'I'm a pervert,' she thought unhappily. 'I'm grinding my ass now
to feel this bastard's prick hurt me even more, and I can't help myself!'

She hadn't even been aware that the guy's wife's foot no longer held
her head to the floor. She didn't realize it until she saw the woman's
colorful slacks lying next to her face on the floor and a pair of bare,
brown feet next to them.

"That's my man's cock you're using, bitch," the woman said. "It
ain't gonna be any use to me tonight, is it? So maybe you owe me
something!"

The negress squatted down by her head. Heather wasn't even shocked
to see the woman was naked from the waist down. Nor was she surprised when
the long, dark legs extended themselves on either side of her. Something
about the woman's crotch fascinated her. The brown rounded thighs ... the
thick, crinkly bush of pubic hair ... the slick, light-pink lips that peeked
out from the hairy patch.

Once again a hand grabbed her hair. This time it was a woman's hand
... a woman's hand that lifted her head from the floor. "You like black
cock? Let's see how you like nigger pussy." So saying, she hunched her ass
forward and pulled Heather's face down into her crotch. By this time the
young blonde was totally defeated. Never in her life had she imagined
herself pleasuring another woman, but, to the laughter and applause of the
surrounding crowd, she extended her tongue and began lapping the woman's
clit.

Across the young helpless blonde's back, DeJuan winked at his wife.
He ground his hips once, then slowed down his movements. This cunt's bowels
were too good ... too tight ... to come too soon. After all ... they had
all night.


Epilogue

The red digital display on her dashboard flicked from 4:07 to 4:08.

'After four o'clock on Tuesday morning,' Heather realized. 'Only
about three miles from home. I'll get there before any of my neighbors get
up for work. Thank God!'

When she'd finally stumbled out of Ernie's, she'd thought about
nothing other than getting home and soaking herself in a warm bathtub. Now
she knew that it would take all she had left just to crawl into her bed.
She'd lost track of the number of men ... and women ... she'd serviced. Her
pussy ached ... her ass hurt ... and her mouth still tasted of male sperm.
She had no idea how many times some of them had used her. She just knew
that cum was leaking from her holes ... that it coated parts of her body to
the point that her clothes were sticking to her as it dried. Her sheets
would need washing when she woke up, but so be it!

'I can't believe they acted like I was going to come back,' she
mused. The image of all those men ... standing around her in a circle ...
their fat, black cocks hanging there, waiting for their turn to plumb her
bodily orifices ... 'Come back? Come back to what? To lying there on that
cold, concrete floor? To being raped? To being brutally used by every man
there for his selfish pleasure? To them thoughtlessly fucking me like some
cheap, cunty whore?'

But while her mind thought ... her body was also reacting ...
calculating ...

'Phillip will be taking another business trip the week after next
... and, for that matter, he won't be home from this one until Friday ...'


Finis

mast_1945@hotmail.com

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