Paul held the directions under the map lamp. “Yes,” he said. “117 Quincy apartment number eleven.”
“I...I don’t think I can do this,” she said. They sat in silence. Paul had shut off the engine. After several minutes she said more to herself than to Paul, “God help me.” He opened the door.
“I...I’ll be here,” Paul said. She slammed the door. He watched her trim body move away, the tight short skirt, her bare legs, the fuck-me heels, and the ponytail clip. Imagining what awaited her made his cock hard. In the foyer she pushed the button beside number eleven. The speaker crackled. Someone said, “Come on up, bitch. Second floor.”
Under the smell of cooking food she detected the odor of urine. The stairs were uneven and scarred, the wall covered with obscene graffiti. The door to number eleven was slightly ajar. Before she could rap, a gaunt black figure opened it, pulled her inside then closed and locked it. He took her arm and guided her into the living room.
Another black man sat on the soiled couch grinning up at her. “Guess you don’t remember us, Mrs. Gardner,” he said. “I’m Cory Jefferson and that there’s Ned Warren. We worked for your fuckin husband till he fired us. We used to see you when you come down to the garage. We used to talk about how we’d like to fuck old Paulie’s young wife, right Ned?”
Ned had left her standing in the middle of the room while he went to the kitchen for beer, “Yeah,” he shouted. “We say that Mrs. Gardner be one sweet piece of ass.”
Cory sat up and stared at her. His hand went to his crotch. “This is Ned’s place. I live down the street. Maybe I can get Mr. Watts to send you to me some night so I can have you all to myself. How you like that?”
He was thinner than Darnell, almost like a skeleton with black skin stretched over it. His eyes were sunk deep in his bald head, his cheeks hollow, his cheekbones sharp, a long nose, a wide thin lipped mouth, yellow stained teeth, a receding chin and a scrawny neck. His arms were like black sticks. He wore flip-flops. His long narrow feet were dirty, his toenails ragged. He’d been waiting for her answer. “I don’t think that...” she began and noticed his eyes narrow. “I mean. I do...I go wherever Mr. Watts sends me.”
“That ain’t what I asked you, bitch.”
Before she could respond Ned returned with two beers and a glass for her. “A little vodka and orange juice for our guest,” he said, handing the glass to her.
She forced a smile, “Thank you, but I don’t drink.”
He took her hand and placed the glass in it, “But I say you do.” Tentatively she sipped. Ned and Cory watched her, “Hey baby,” Cory said, “this ain’t no fancy cocktail party. Drink up.” She finished half the glass and felt a warm glow. It didn’t taste bad. The vodka seemed to cut the sugary taste of orange juice.
Ned put his arm around her waist and led her to the dilapidated couch and sat her between himself and Cory. He reached over and unbuttoned her jacket. “Nothin on under the top or skirt?” he asked and added, “don’t need to do the Master stuff. ‘Sir’ will be ok.” Both men laughed.
She looked straight ahead, “No, nothing under them, Sir.” She drank again, almost finishing what was in the glass.
Cory put his hand on her bare thigh, “Smooth and silky. You rub some kind of lotion on it?”
“Body oil,” she said.
“All over?”
“Yes, all over.”
“Why you do that?”
“Mr. Watts...” she began.
Ned interrupted, “Don’t tell us about Mr. Watts. Why you rub your body with that sexy smellin oil?”
“I wanted to...make myself...ah...uh...I wanted you to find me attractive.”
Cory squeezed her thigh, “You fuckin playin games with us. What does that ankle bracelet you’re wearing say? What them letters stand for? And look at me.”
It was like looking into the face of an emaciated corpse. “They mean I love big black cock.” Her cheeks were burning.
Cory’s hand slid under her skirt up the inside of her thigh. Ned leaned forward and began to unbutton her blouse. He whispered in her ear, “Is that true. You really fuckin love big black cocks?”
She held the glass in her lap with both hands. Cory’s fingers lightly stroked the outside of her slit. Ned had unbuttoned all except the last two buttons of her blouse. She knew her nipples were hard. She could feel her heart beating faster. “Yes,” she said.
He pinched her nipple, “Say it, bitch.”
“I’m sorry. Yes, I love big black cocks.”
“You love them in your mouth?”
“Yes, in my mouth.”
“In your hot white cunt?
“Yes, there too.”
“Where do you love our big black cocks the most, in your mouth or in your hot white cunt?”
She finished what was left in her glass. “In my...my hot white cunt,” she said. Both men laughed again.
Ned took her glass and went to the kitchen. Cory slid one finger along the inside of her crease. “Ahhh,” he sighed, “you gettin wet already.” He unzipped his pants and pulled out his long thin uncircumcised cock. It was semi-hard. He placed her hand on it. She felt it begin to swell.
Ned returned with two beers and her glass which was full. This time the taste of vodka was stronger. She began to feel a little light headed. Ned and Cory exchanged glances. “Since you got your body all oiled up maybe you ought to show us.” She looked puzzled.
Cory lifted her hand from his cock, “Strip, baby, strip,” he said.
Ned took the glass from her and pulled her up, then clicked on an iPod next to a pair of tiny speakers. Out came a slow bluesy version of “Love for Sale”. Ann stood in the middle of the room facing them. “Dance, bitch, strip!” Cory yelled.
Her face was flushed red. She felt unsteady in the spike heels, but began to move slowly to the music. She shrugged the jacket from her shoulders. Then, unbuttoning the last buttons of the blouse she peeled it back and let it drop to the floor.
Ned had taken out his thick black cock and, like Cory, had begun to stroke it. She looked at these two ignorant ugly black men sitting on the filthy couch masturbating. She glanced at their cocks and thought, ‘Soon I’ll be sucking them, soon their cum will fill my mouth and I’ll swallow it, soon those repulsive cocks will be inside me and I’ll be responding to them, wanting them to make me cum’. She unzipped the side of her skirt and slowly pushed it down over her hips until it gathered at her feet. She stepped over it blushing furiously, but her nipples were stiff and her pussy was very moist. Except for her shoes, she was naked.
The song ended. Ned reached out his arms indicating that she should sit on his lap. He turned her so that she faced Cory. Under her she could feel his hard cock against her ass. He held her glass up to her lips. She drank. “That’s it, baby, now the party can start.” He fondled her breast. Cory had taken off his pants. His ball sack hung low under his stiff cock. He leaned forward and tapped both of her thighs. Obediently she parted her legs. Ned touched the ponytail ring. “What’s this for?”
“So you can see,” she said.
“See what?”
“See my face.”
He pretended to be confused, “But we can already see your face.”
Cory had taken off one of her shoes. He was holding her bare foot. He laced his fingers between her toes. She watched him fascinated and the thought occurred to her that this was a moment she would remember for the rest of her life...an epiphany. The skinny black man working his filthy fingers with their long dirty fingernails between her toes. Dramatic contrasts, Gordon Watts would say: her pale white perfectly formed toes with their glossy red manicured toenails separated by the skeleton-like fingers of this rank smelling black man, his ragged fingernails digging into the skin of her foot. His ugly cock sticking straight out aiming at her pussy which she imagined opening like a flower to accept it.
Ned pinched her nipple and repeated, “We can already see your face so what’s this clip for?”
“It’s
so you can see my face when....when...I’m sucking you.”
Ned turned her head toward him. “Kiss,” he said. Even before their lips touched, hers were parted to receive his tongue. She felt Cory’s fingernails dig into her foot. Under her Ned’s cock twitched. When they parted, Cory released her foot and pulled her forward off Ned’s lap so that she knelt between his spread legs. His odor made her head spin; sweat and urine and dirt and the distinctive musky scent of a black man’s crotch that both repelled and attracted her.
“Suck it,” he said. She inched forward.
Ned grabbed her hips lifting them. “Doggie,” he said. She lowered her back and raised her hips higher. Leaning on her elbows she took the uncircumcised head of Cory’s cock into her mouth. A moment later she felt Ned entering her. Immediately she felt waves of heat wash over her body. Her mouth filled with saliva, her secretions coated Ned’s cock. She seemed suspended between them and belonging completely to them. The vodka, the strong male smells, Cory’s fingers between her toes, Ned’s kiss, the rancid taste of Cory’s cock filling up her mouth, the hard thrusting rhythm of Ned’s cock driving in and out of her oozing pussy, and the contrast; a young married educated white woman servicing two ugly black truck drivers. She began to moan and tightened her lips around Cory’s shaft just as she began to push back against Ned’s pounding cock.
Suddenly Cory shouted and started to pump his cum down her throat. He held her head tight over his cock so she had to swallow it. Ned grunted and dug his fingers into her hips pulling her to him and squirting his load deep in her womb. At the same time, a powerful orgasm wracked her body and quickly built to a second one and before Ned withdrew his cock, she reached between her legs and touched her swollen clit. She came three times within two minutes. She collapsed between them, some of Cory’s jizm leaking from the corner of her mouth and gobs of Ned’s cum running from her cunt.
All three were sweating profusely. After several minutes, Ned rolled off the couch and stumbled toward the kitchen. He returned with beer for Cory and himself and a new glass for Ann. It contained almost all vodka and ice cubes. Her head was still between Cory’s legs inches from his limp prick. Cory sat with his back against the end of the couch, his stick like legs splayed open. He took the beer and drank. “Jesus, this white bitch drained my cock.” He poked her with a bare foot. Ann stirred and slowly sat up.
Ned handed her the vodka. She looked up at him. He nodded. She drank and made a face. She couldn’t taste any orange juice. Ned chuckled as he stepped forward holding his cock out so that it was an inch from her face. It was still wet with her juices and his cum. “Smell it,” he said, holding it under her nose. She inhaled and immediately felt her nipples stiffen. “Taste it,” he said. She opened her mouth and holding her drink in one hand and the stem of his cock in the other, leaned forward to take the round head of his black cock into her mouth. She could taste herself on him and the salty taste of his cum. She looked up at him as her tongue explored the underside of his cockhead. He stepped back and again held his semi hard cock out to her. “Kiss it,” he said. She parted her lips to kiss the end of his cock and run the tip of her tongue along the slit of his pee hole.
Cory had moved up to sit beside her. He lowered his head and sucked her hard nipple into his mouth. She sipped her drink. Her free hand found his cock. She began to stroke him. Ned stepped between her parted legs and, holding his cock back against his stomach, cupped his balls and thrust them toward her. She lowered her head slightly and began to lick them.
During the next half hour she felt their lips on hers, their tongues in her mouth, their fingers in her pussy, and their teeth on her nipples. She tasted their sweat. She licked Ned’s shaft and held Cory’s rancid ball sack in her mouth swirling her tongue around the wrinkled skin that covered his marble sized testicles. She finished her vodka. The room spun slowly, but she didn’t feel sick.
“You wantin it again?” Ned asked
She smiled at him, “Yes, can’t you tell.”
“Say it. Say what you want.”
“I want to suck your cock while Cory fucks me.”
“You got to make yourself look sexy for us first. You got makeup stuff in your bag?”
Ann nodded and holding onto the back of the couch retrieved her purse. She noticed that her other shoe had come off. Barefoot, she made her way down a narrow hall to the bathroom. The toilet seat was broken. The toilet itself was pitted with rust. Dirty socks and underwear were on the floor. The washbowl was wobbly and stained. The tiny room reeked of stale urine. She looked at her face in the cracked mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen; her mascara had streaked her face. Beads of sweat still dotted her forehead. The room wasn’t spinning, but seemed to turn slowly. She held onto the washbowl, taking deep breaths until she felt able to splash water on her face. She dried with a filthy towel that smelled like the men in the other room. Her hand shook so much she couldn’t brush on the mascara. She was able, with considerable effort, to apply lipstick and gloss. ‘I’m Ann,’ she thought. ‘I have a Masters degree. I am young and considered attractive. I have a husband and live in a nice house. I own a BMW. I do charity work of the Catholic Church. Until recently the only man who has even seen me naked has been my husband. Until recently I’d never been with another man. I’ve just washed a black truck driver’s sperm off my face. I can still taste it in my mouth. Another black man’s cum is dripping from my vagina. I am painting my lips before going back into the other room and giving myself to them again. How do such things happen?’
She walked slowly back down the hall holding onto the wall wishing she could run to the door and down the stairs and out into the fresh night air. Instead she stood naked in the doorway of the living room. The room was hazy with smoke, marijuana. Both Cory and Ned were completely naked now. They sat on the couch smoking. On the table next to the couch was another full glass for her. Ned held out a thin joint he’d just rolled.
Ann shook her head.
“Hey, baby, this ain’t no request. We want you to smoke with us. We think you’ll like it.”
One of the rules in the contract said she had to do what the black Masters demanded, but they couldn’t force drugs on her. “I don’t have to,” she said. “It’s a drug.”
Both men laughed. Cory moved over and patted the seat between himself and Ned. When she sat down, he handed her the glass. She sipped and felt the warmth travel to her stomach. Ned tapped her leg. She spread for them. While Ned began to tease her cunt, Cory leaned over to suck her nipple. They played with her for several minutes. Her breathing came faster and her pussy quickly moistened. They could smell her sex. Ned turned her head toward his. She parted her lips to receive his tongue. She groaned and thrust her pussy up against his hand. When the kiss ended, Cory placed the joint against her lips. She nodded and took it. Ned lit it. “Draw the smoke in deep and hold it before letting it out,” he said. She held the joint between her thumb and forefinger and did as he’d instructed. It tasted sweet. She turned to kiss Cory while reaching between his legs to put her hand on his hardening cock. The two men played with her: sucking her nipples, fondling her ass, finger fucking her, kissing her. She stroked them to full erections. She had finished the vodka and smoked the joint. The room went fuzzy. She felt as if she were floating, completely relaxed. The thought occurred that they could do whatever they wanted to her. As if from a distance she heard Ned ask, “Why the fuck are you here, Mrs. Gardner?”
She saw him through an orange blur. “To give you pleasure,” she said. A slight smile crossed her face. “I’m here to pleasure you,” she said and closed her eyes.
In the next two hours they each fucked her twice. Occasionally she would respond, but most of the time she lay naked on the couch with her legs spread. They mounted her and fucked her. Cory tried to make her suck his cock again, but she passed out or was only partly conscious.
Paul had fallen asleep in the car. Long past midnight he woke up when he heard the door to the building open.
Two of his former drivers, Ned and Cory, were on each side of his wife supporting her while stumbling toward the car. Except for the suit jacket, she was naked and barefoot. Ned opened the back door of the BMW and together he and Cory lifted her in. They placed her lying down on the back seat. “Hey, Paul, your wife is a damn good fuck,” Ned said.
“Yeah and she gives good head, too,” Cory added. He slammed the door and both men staggered back to the apartment.
Paul turned around to look at her. She was mumbling incoherently. Her eyes were closed, her bare legs spread. Cum spotted her jacket and oozed from her pussy. Her swollen lips looked as if they were coated with it. The strong scent of her sex filled the car. She shifted and moved into a fetal position, her face toward the back seat. Paul noticed the black disk on the anal plug. He cursed himself and started the car.
Chapter Eight
Journal entry
I’ve just put Ann to bed. Those two bastards I’d fired, Cory Jefferson and Ned Warren, had her for over three hours. It’s obvious they got her drunk and probably made her smoke marijuana. When they carried her to the car she had passed out. Her skirt and blouse and shoes were missing. All she had on was the suit jacket. I’m sure each one of them must have fucked her several times. I’m also sure she had to suck them off more than once. Poor Ann. What she is
going through is all my fault but there’s nothing I can do. Even if we make it through the ninety days, nothing will ever be the same for us again. I’d divorce her now if that would help. I’d take all the blame if that would help – but it’s Ann they want. They don’t really give a shit about me. Whether she’s married or divorced doesn’t matter. They have her names on the incriminating papers. They can send her to prison. I’m wondering if prison wouldn’t be better than what she has to endure.
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