Dirty True Confessions

by Huck Pilgrim

  “Bitches,” he spat. Then he smiled slyly and lowered his gun.

  A few guffaws of dissent rose up from the people standing around us, but no one really stepped back very far. They were all standing at the periphery of the light, making it difficult to see any of their faces. I still didn’t understand why they had crowded around us. The buzz of conversation returned almost as quickly as it had gone.

  He lay the gun on the table and sat back in his chair. He grinned at me. Patted his lap. Appreciative hoots came from the crowd.

  And that’s when I knew those people had surrounded our table to watch me perform. I was to be the night’s entertainment. I considered racing from the room, but the last words he whispered into my ear kept ringing in my head. Someone will use your mouth. At first, I didn’t understand what he meant. Use my mouth for what? And then, suddenly, I knew. He meant someone would fuck my mouth. The gun on the table wasn’t there to threaten me, it was there to protect me. To protect us. The crowd was growing more boisterous.

  What could I do? I was in a terrible, untenable position.

  I stood up, licking my lips. The crowd was about four or five people deep. Taking a deep breath, I raised my leg and straddled his, putting my hands on his shoulders and casting my eyes towards the floor. I blew the air out of my lungs and then lowered my bottom into his lap. Laughter and shouts came from the people standing around us. I put my arms around his neck and buried my head in his chest. I wanted to die. He smelled like sandalwood with a hint of citrus. I began rocking my hips, grinding my groin against his.

  I had never done a lap dance before and I suppose I was doing a poor job of it. The crowd started booing. “Take off your pants,” he whispered in my ear.

  My heart sank. I looked up at him. I wanted to cry. For some reason, my mind focused on my boots and the difficulty of taking off my pants with them on.

  “I’m wearing boots,” I said.

  He grinned.

  “Take them off, too,” he said.

  I felt like an idiot. I got off his lap, returned to my chair, and began opening the laces of my boots. He took a long draught from the drink a waitress brought. I noticed he kept his eyes on the crowd the entire time, barely giving me a second glance. He didn’t talk to anyone, but he smiled occasionally, his eyes constantly scanning the room.

  He was looking for trouble.

  When I got the boots off, I hesitated. I took a big gulp from my drink. The gin felt good in my chest going down. I stood up, opened my fly, and then dropped my pants as far as I could, about the middle of my thighs. The crowd cheered its approval. I was wearing skin tight jeans and had to sit down to remove them. I finally got them off and stood up.

  I had on only a lacey pair of boy shorts, my socks, and a tight fitting top that stopped just above my navel. The crowd cheered again. I felt the cool air on my thighs and started to get turned on. It’s humiliating to admit, but the appreciation of the crowd made me feel horny. I put my fists on my hips and struck a pose. My big black persecutor assessed me.

  “Put your boots back on,” he said.

  The crowd seemed to be pressing in closer and I regretted encouraging them. I felt anxious, but I returned to my chair and tugged my boots back on. People in the crowd were grabbing at their crotches and making lewd comments. As I finished lacing my boots, I heard a glass shatter somewhere behind me. When I turned my head toward the sound, I saw someone had actually taken his penis out of his pants.

  I leapt back into Bang’s lap, my heart racing. I felt certain I’d be gangbanged before the night was through. They’d have my mouth and . . . more.

  “Easy does it,” he whispered. “Easy.”

  My hands were shaking.

  “I’m going to take good care of you,” he whispered, his voice a deep resonant purr. I wrapped my arms around his neck and began to rock my bottom on his lap. I felt comforted to hear him say he’d protect me. He was responsible for bringing me into this place, and he was taking responsibility for bringing me through it in one piece. I felt certain he could do it too. He seemed capable of handling himself and the crowd. If anyone came close to the table where his gun lay, he simply scowled, and they backed off.

  But I soon realized that he was only protecting access to his gun. He allowed the crowd access to me. People approached us from the other side, and soon I felt hands on my bottom and on my thighs. I tried to swat them off, but Bang warned me to let them have their fun.

  “Ignore them,” he whispered. “They won’t hurt you.”

  He wanted me to feel disgraced. I did my best to disregard the people, but it was my own feelings of shame that I couldn’t ignore. Soon people began slipping paper money into my panties. I could feel their fingers slipping cash into the waistband of my shorts. Sometimes they slipped bills into the leg holes or the crotch of my panties, and then their fingers lingered and probed. They were close enough that I could see most of them were boys my own age, students probably. It’s hard to admit, but I started to get turned on.

  Bang wanted me further back on his leg, closer to his knee, to give them better access to my bottom. I put myself completely in his hands, doing whatever he asked. He was my shepherd tonight. Meanwhile, strangers stroked the insides of my thighs and caressed my ass. I had never been the explicit sexual focus of so many men at the same time before, and my pussy quickly became sopping wet. The noise was growing in intensity. Bang whispered that he wanted me to turn around, so that my bottom was on his lap.

  I did as he asked.

  You should know that through all of this Bang wasn’t fondling me. He was the perfect gentlemen, if you can call it gentlemanly for a man to allow a room filled with strangers to grope his “date” as she squirms in his lap. To keep from falling, I had to hold the back of the chair as I rocked my hips. This meant I surrendered to the room unfettered access to my breasts and the front of my shorts. My bra was filling with paper money, as was the crotch and leg holes of my shorts. It felt like the boys were making small offerings, something to placate Bang, and then each would take a few minutes to stroke and pet me—get his money’s worth—before moving off and allowing someone else take his place. The crotch of my shorts was so damp it had darkened considerably, and now the stain was beginning to spreading up the front of my panties. And I wasn’t the only one excited: Bang had an erection, too. I hadn’t noticed it before, but now I understood in a very tactile way that he was enjoying this as much as me. He seemed really big down there. Huge. I let myself imagine what it would be like to have him inside me. The fact that I would soon know how it felt pleased me. A girl tugged down my shirt and bra, exposing my nipple and suckling it into her mouth. I felt completely confident that Bang would protect me from being ravaged by the crowd and closed my eyes, allowing myself to revel in her warm mouth.

  Someone screamed.

  I opened my eyes and a man was standing in front of my with his red, swollen cock in his hand. He reached for my head, slipping his hand under my hair, and taking the back of my neck in his palm. I pulled back, plastering my spine against Bang.

  The man who accosted me suddenly ducked, throwing up his hands to protect his face.

  “What the fuck,” Bang said.

  He had tossed my drink at the man, then threw the glass at his face. The man stood there with a look of shock on his face, his cock hanging out of his fly.

  “Motherfucker,” Bang said. “Put that shit away.”

  The force of his indignation seemed enough to make the man back down. The crowd was with Bang, too, scorning the man who’d stepped over the line. This time, I thought. Next time I wondered if they might turn their scorn on me. Bend me over one of the little tables, hold me down and . . .

  I had had enough. I twisted around and put my arms around Bang.

  “Take me away,” I whispered. “Please.”

  I could feel his hard cock under me, and I pressed my breasts into his big chest. I had so much adrenalin pumping through my body that all I wanted was to go somewh
ere quiet and allow myself to unwind. To feel a man inside me. To feel Bang in me. He was my oppressor, but he was also my protector, and I wanted him. Badly.

  “Yep,” Bang said. His affirmation made my heart leap, but then he added, “Soon,” dashing my hopes. I laid my head on his shoulder and gave out one of those long exhales where my breath came out in shaky little half shudders. I wanted to cry.

  “One last thing,” he said. “Then we can go.”

  He was still scanning the room, looking for trouble. I steeled my resolve, looked into his eyes and waited to hear what he wanted from me next. He met my gaze for a moment, then looked away.

  “Get down on your knees,” he said. “Open my pants. Put my cock in your mouth.”

  I swallowed hard. He wanted to humiliate me. Degrade me. I understood that intellectually. I had humiliated Marlo and the other boy now my punishment was to endure my own public shaming. And I did feel degraded. But what hurt most was my own complicity in it all. I had set aside modesty and decorum and performed in my panties for a crowded room. I had squirmed in his lap, making my bottom and breasts available to anyone who wanted to fondle me. But my biggest crime was the fact that my sex was throbbing and wet, and I looked forward to bedding the big animal of a man that was abusing me. If I felt a little thrill in my chest at the prospect of getting down on my knees and tasting his dick, my face also burned with shame for allowing myself to be manipulated into sucking his cock. It was all too much for me, an overload of my senses. I wanted it to end. “Please,” I whimpered. “Please. Let’s just go.”

  He continued to scan the room.

  “I’ll do it upstairs,” I said, “when we’re alone.”

  Still he ignored me.

  “I promise,” I whispered.

  It killed me to have to make that promise just to win a little privacy to suck his dick. I think he knew how much I wanted him. I think he knew a little piece of me hated myself for wanting him. I like to think he understood just how difficult the night had been for me. He smiled sadly at me. Something in his smile told me he felt something for me.

  “Come on,” he said softly. “The sooner you start, the sooner we go.”

  I gave up. Sighed. On some level, I knew I had brought this on myself.

  I stood up, my legs on either side of him. As I moved to stand between his legs, I looked around the room. The people seemed to know what was coming. There was a current in the air, an electric pulse, and it seemed to resonate from person to person and then end somewhere in my chest. Because of the heels, I had to use Bang’s shoulders and then his thighs to get down on my knees. I fumbled with his pants. The noise in the room rose and my hands began to shake. His belt buckle was complicated, his pants had buttons. He looked down at me with that deadpan expression. At the thought of displeasing him, I grew even more nervous.

  By the time I finally got his cock out of his pants, I didn’t even think or hesitate. I put it right into my mouth. He was huge. Thick as a can of beer and inky black. He filled my mouth, and I licked him like candy. I let the noise of the crowd fade into the background. I still felt an occasional hand stroke my bottom, or deposit a little cash in my underwear, but I ignored it. I got lost in the task at hand. And that’s when I first learned that my big black tormentor was called Bang. It’s embarrassing to admit this, but I had pinned all of my hopes on his ability to get me out of that place—and I had his cock in my mouth—but I still didn’t know his name.

  An older black man with a short grey afro and a business suit pulled a chair up and sat next to Bang. This man sat near the gun, and Bang allowed it. “Hey, Bang,” the old man said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a leather billfold.

  “She for sale?” he asked.

  My heart sank. I took Bang’s cock out of my mouth. The old man seemed to know Bang much better than me, and I felt my chances of coming out of these negotiations ahead or even intact were very slim. It emphasized for me how precarious I had allowed my position to become. I was a fool.

  I braced myself for the inevitable outcome. I was going to be sold tonight.

  Sold again tonight.

  “Everything in this place is for sale,” Bang said, confirming my worst fears. He spoke to the old man in that comfortable, easy tone that good friends develop over long periods of time. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. I had his fat penis in my hand and lowered my head, just to hide my face.

  “But the store ain’t always open,” Bang said. “Right now—store’s closed. This is a private dance.”

  I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. I sighed with relief and pressed Bang’s big tool against my cheek. I stole a quick glance at the old gentleman and found him grinning. He put the billfold back into his jacket.

  “She’s cute,” the old man said.

  He had a bill in his hand and made a motion toward me to which Bang nodded. The old man reached forward and petted my head. When I looked up, he tucked the cash into my bra, and then he tweaked my chin. I felt humiliated. Cheap. But I also felt grateful. And horny. I put Bang’s big dick back into my mouth. The more I thought about what he had said and the way he had treated me, the more I wanted him. I lavished his cock with my mouth.

  “Come on,” Bang said, stroking my head. The crowd was growing restless.

  He stood up and helped me off my knees. As he assembled his clothes, I grabbed my pants and darted after him. I had to race and my heels made it difficult to keep up. When we got to the exit, the crowd was closing in. Bang had to retrace his footsteps, grab me by the arm, and then pull me through the door after him. Someone had the gall to follow us into the stairwell, where he found himself alone and up against Bang. He quickly backed down.

  I plucked cash from the waistband and leg holes of my panties. I found bills stuffed inside my bra and the laces of my boots. It was humiliating. Soon I held my jeans in one hand and a fistful of cash in the other, mostly small denomination bills.

  Maybe about fifty or sixty dollars.

  When I finished, Bang smiled at me. I handed him the cash, a foul look on my face. I always enjoyed the idea of trading sex for money, but this had been tawdry. I felt cheap.

  “I don’t want it,” Bang grinned, his voice incredulous. He put his hands up, palms out. “That’s all you baby.”

  I dropped my hand and let the cash waft to the floor.

  Bang laughed, his eyes twinkling. I couldn’t be sure if he was making fun of me, or if it was something else. Mustering as much dignity as possible, I marched up the stairs, half naked and with my pants in my hand. Bang followed. Soon he overtook me, and then he led us, and eventually we came to a small private room with a bed.

  I wanted nothing more than to get fucked.

  It had all been an ordeal, but now it all seemed over and I wanted what I considered my reward. Bang’s hard muscular body. His big black cock. I wanted the sex to take me away to someplace else, a place where I could forget the evening’s torment. Once again, I couldn’t have been more mistaken. I was going to get fucked, but it wasn’t going to be the take me away kind of sex I was looking for. I was a dirty debutante, about to learn the lesson of my young life.

  I reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out a condom. I handed it to Bang and asked him to put it on. He laughed and tossed it on the floor.

  “Hey!” I scolded. “I only have one.”

  “I’m not wearing a condom,” he said flatly.

  He looked implacable. I couldn’t understand his reluctance to wear the condom. I blinked. “I’ll get pregnant,” I said.

  “I’ll fuck your ass,” he said. His expression didn’t change.

  I snorted and shook my head in disbelief. “What about disease?”

  Bang’s face broke into a huge grin. He laughed.

  He put his hands on his hips. “You crack me up,” he said. “You should have thought about disease before you got high with Marlo.” His face turned hard. “You should have thought about pregnant before you chumped his little frien
d. You are leaving this house tonight with a load of my cum inside you. I don’t care if it’s in your pussy. I don’t care if it’s your ass.”

  He was being cruel, but I felt like we had bonded in the club, so I put my hands on his chest and looked into his eyes. “Please,” I said. I clambered down to my knees, cursing those goddamn boots for giving me fits every time I wanted to get on my knees that night. I rubbed my hands on his hips and begged.

  “Please,” I said. “My parent’s marriage is collapsing. They’re constantly fighting. I’m just . . .”

  I lost my ability to speak and shook my head. I hadn’t meant to mention my troubles from home, but now that I had put it out, I felt vulnerable and tiny.

  “Please,” I begged, finding my voice. “I’m sorry.”

  Bang inhaled, his big chest expanding. No one said anything for a minute.

  He exhaled.

  “I have a wife,” he said. He was speaking slowly and deliberately. “And a girlfriend,” he added. “I don’t even like anal sex. It’s dirty. And I’m not that crazy about white girls. Or my job.”

  I saw where all this was going and felt lightheaded.

  “What you don’t seem to understand is that this is a crack house. And you” —he paused, raising an eyebrow— “are a crack whore.”

  I scowled bitterly, turning my head and folding my arms. I could taste something fruity and terrible at the back of my throat. I exhaled noisily, so filled with rage that my breath came out in halting little gasps.

  “I’m sorry for your troubles,” he said. “But troubles don’t change nothing. We all have to do, what we all have to do. And right now, you have to get up on that bed.” He pointed to the mattress.

  “You can get on your belly or you can get on your back,” he said.

  “Don’t matter to me whichever. Because,” he paused, stabbing his thumb into his chest. “I have to do, what I have to do.”

  He began to undress, carefully folding his clothes as he took them off. I remained on my knees, terrible dark thoughts cycling in my mind. Bang said nothing else, and I refused to look at him. This was an upscale party at a fashionable property. I attended one of the most rigorous and prestigious schools in all the world. My mind raced, and then, all in a moment, kneeling on the floor of that little bedroom, I realized that nothing Bang had said was particularly false. This may have been an exclusive party, but it was nothing more than a den of dope fiends. I was an attractive girl, from a good family. But tonight, I had traded sex for drugs, and that made me the terrible thing he’d called me.