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Message-ID: <54367asstr$1156133405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Night Writer <night_writer99@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} {Night Writer} True Love - IV (FF, humil, BDSM)
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Date: Mon, 21 Aug 2006 00:10:05 -0400
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                               True Love

                            by Night Writer


                            IV - The Trailer


It's so hot inside your small, rusting trailer. The air conditioner 
worked  for a while, but keeps breaking down. Erin gave you a number to 
call, a handy-man, she called him. But it takes days for him to show 
up, and by then the trailer is an oven every day by noon. When he 
finally arrives, he ogles you as though you are a juicy steak and he 
hasn't eaten in a week. But who could blame him - you in your little-
girl tube top, not even wide enough to conceal the bottom curves of 
your meaty tits, soaked with sweat, nipples showing through the 
transparent material as though you're wearing nothing at all. And those 
tiny white stretch shorts Erin bought you - covering only half of your 
ass-cheeks, and so narrow at the crotch that your pussy-lips keep 
escaping on both sides. He's a large man, six foot six, two hundred 
sixty pounds of raw, shining, black muscle. 

Jerome. Jerome the giant. Your stomach churns every time you see the 
huge bulge in his jeans. He isn't too bright, but knows the game he's 
been hired to play all too well. 

"Ms. Erin says you been eyein' Jerome. Ms. Erin says you know how to 
thank a big strong man for helpin' out, for fixin' things, y' know?" 

You hate it when he paws you, when he pushes his huge hands under the 
tube top and squeezes your tits like he's testing two melons for 
ripeness. But you let him. You let him every time. Because she wants 
you to. No, not wants, commands it. You oooh and aaah as he drags the 
shorts over your hips, then worms two thick fingers inside you. You 
know all too well how the game ends - you on your knees, inhaling the 
tip of his giant prick into your waiting mouth, sucking, your fingers 
gently caressing his balls until you feel his hot, thick cum coat your 
tongue and roll over the back of your throat like a slow, rancid river. 

The latch on the door is broken, and it hangs open, the bright 
afternoon sun shining in on the two of you like a circus spotlight. A 
small group of young boys gather outside, pointing and laughing as they 
watch you on your knees, sucking the cum out of the black giant. You 
cringe, knowing that they'll go home with stories, stories that will 
bring their redneck fathers and big brothers around for more of the 
same. But Erin didn't send them, and when you turn them away with 
disgust, they hate you for being the cock-tease that you are.

Their wives hate you too. Most of them, that is. They call you a slut 
to your face - a nigger-fucker, a cheap whore. You stay inside the 
sweltering trailer during the day to avoid them, your body drenched 
with sweat, your skimpy clothing clinging to you like a second skin.

Last week the woman from the trailer next to yours appeared at your 
door. "You have a phone call," she shouted, grinning as you followed 
her inside her own air-conditioned home. It was Erin. She hadn't let 
you have a phone of your own. She said you would be a pest, calling her 
whenever you felt the need to whine about one thing or another. Her 
voice made your pussy throb, even over the phone. "So, I see you've met 
Carla," she had said. "I owe her a favor, so I want you to be very nice 
to her, understand? I just know that you and Carla will become very 
close friends. In fact, I expect it. You do know what I mean, don't 
you, my pet?" You knew exactly what she meant.

Carla stood grinning at you while you listened to Erin's wishes. Broad-
shouldered and square-jawed, she could have easily been mistaken for a 
man, except for her enormous breasts that jutted forward obscenely 
under the ragged t-shirt. From behind she could have been a dock-worker 
- her ass so wide and heavy that she lumbered when she walked. You 
became close friends alright. She showed up at your door nearly every 
night from then on, eager to clench your sweet face between her 
bloated, sweaty thighs, eager to have you lap at her foul fuck-hole 
until she screamed so loud the neighbors complained.

But tonight she has other ideas. She shows up in black leather pants 
and a leather top that pushes her enormous breasts so high they burst 
over the top of the low-cut vest. She fastens a thick dog collar around 
your neck, then attaches a long leash. "Lets take a walk," she says. "I 
want to show off my little pussy-licker." You're wearing denim cut-
offs, and a fishnet crop top with nothing underneath, to try to stay 
cool. "Lose the shorts, honey," she demands. You do it, stripping down 
to the black t-back thong underneath. She looks you over, stopping at 
your bare feet. 

"Put on some shoes. Lets see what you've got."

She follows you to your tiny closet and rummages through the jumble of 
shoes piled there.

"Perfect! These should work. Get them on and let's go, before it gets 
dark."

She picks the black heels, stilettos, six inches high, a gift from Erin 
the night you danced for her dinner guests. Carla loves the look. So 
much, that she has you kneel and eat her, right there in your crowded 
bedroom. She's sloppy wet tonight, especially excited by the way you've 
come to so easily give in to her most perverted whims. When she finally 
cums, she leaves your face dripping with her juices, then leads you 
outside, pulling you roughly by the leash each time you hesitate. 

It doesn't take long for the neighbors to gather, lining the gravel 
paths that run between the rows of trailers, then on to the paved road 
that runs in a circle through the shabby park. You stumble along behind 
her in the heels, trying to keep your footing in the deep gravel. 
You've never been more ashamed, never more humiliated. Men whistle and 
make crude comments, their eyes running the length of your nearly naked 
body as you prance by. The night air feels cool on your bare ass 
cheeks, and your nipples stir and harden, poking through the tiny holes 
in the mesh top like pink, rubbery buttons. Why? Why is your pussy so 
wet and your breathing so deep and fast? 

A young boy, about seventeen, leans against the end of a trailer, his 
shirt off, narrow waist and washboard abs flirting with you as you 
pass. A young girl stands next to him, leaning against his shoulder. 
Her long blonde hair falls past the middle of her back, the minuscule 
bikini top failing to hide the firm swell of her large round breasts. 
Her hand is at the front of his jeans, tracing the line of his erection 
as it grows larger by the second. When Carla sees her smile, she stops 
and leads you over to them.

"Like my pet?" Carla asks, as she reels in the leash, dragging you 
close beside her.

The girl is fresh-faced and beautiful - slim, with long, silky smooth 
legs and a healthy bronze tan. She returns a wicked smile. Her 
boyfriend is more vocal.

"I'd fuck her," he says. "How much?"

"Looks like you're ready," Carla answers. "But she'd never take money. 
She likes it too much."

"Cool. Lets go 'round back," he suggests. 

Carla drags you to a small patch of dirt behind the trailer. The boy 
moves a narrow wooden bench from beneath a rotting picnic table to the 
middle of the meager yard. The girl, silent until now, circles you, 
licking her lips. 

"She's so, so, slutty. Will she really do anything we want?"

Carla looks at you, expecting you to answer.

"Well, bitch, answer the young lady. She's so stupid, I have to remind 
her to answer sometimes."

You swallow your pride, feel your cunt twitch, then answer, "Yes, I'll 
do anything - anything you want."

"Lets see her naked," says the girl, with enough enthusiasm to make you 
blush with embarrassment. "Can I take her clothes off?"

"Like she said, anything you want," says Carla.

But the boy is impatient. You can see he's more than ready to fuck you.

"Oh, alright Raylene, but make it fast. I'm about to cum in my jeans!"

She takes her time anyway, pulling the top over your head so slowly, 
stripping the tiny thong over your hips, down your legs and over your 
heels. She stands back and takes a long look at you, naked, in your 
high heels, in their brown-dirt backyard. She disappears behind you. 
You feel her hand on your ass.

"Can I do this?" she asks, grinning. She pinches your butt cheek - hard 
- and you cry out in surprise.

Carla steps closer to intervene. "Thank the young lady, Babs. Mind your 
manners."

The girl bursts out laughing. "Babs? Her name is Babs??? Well Babs, 
what d'ya' say?"

She's snickering, waiting for your answer. You hate her, but your pussy 
is soaked.

"Thank you, Raylene," you mutter.

She slaps your ass, then again harder, then again and again, until it's 
on fire and red with finger-shaped welts. Again, her sarcastic little 
voice demands your response.

"Thank you again, Raylene," you manage, between clenched teeth.

She reaches out and takes your nipple between her thumb and finger, 
then pinches and twists it cruelly. And she's grinning - still grinning 
- waiting for you to thank her again for torturing you, for humiliating 
you. And again, you do. You thank her, and your pussy flows for reasons 
you can't understand.

"C'mon Raylene! Quit playin' with her and get her over here!"

"Oh, alright Jimmy! Jeez, I can't never have no fun..."

They take you to the wooden picnic bench, put you on your back, and 
Carla winds the leash around it, lashing your neck tightly against the 
rough wooden planks. The boy has his pants off in no time and you feel 
his long, thin cock slide into you quickly, easily - you're so wet.

"Damn, she's wetter than fresh-caught trout! Wet and slimy - just the 
way I like 'em!" he hollers, as he plunges into your sopping cunt again 
and again.

The girl straddles your face, facing him, and you see her pussy move 
lower, closer, until the faint, sweet smell of her reaches you, then 
settles on your parted lips. You feel her weight press down onto your 
mouth, downy golden pubic hair tickling your chin. You don't have to be 
asked, or told. You taste her, parting her pussylips slightly with the 
tip of your tongue. And she's sweet - so sweet - her wetness spreading 
from deep inside over your invading tongue. You penetrate farther, and 
then lick, slow and deliberate, along the length of her swelling slit, 
until you hear her moan.

"Oh God, Jimmy, she's doin' it! She's eating me - oh Christ she's good! 
Soo good, Jimmy!"

They lean toward each other and kiss, sucking at each other while using 
you like some kind of amusement park ride, him plunging into your 
soaking hole, her grinding against your mouth while your tongue makes 
her gasp and shudder. You can only imagine what you must look like, 
naked, tied to the bench, a willing pleasure-toy for two teenage kids. 
Is this what Erin wants you to be? How could she? But you don't care 
anymore. Anything for Erin. Anything.

The girl cums first, grinding faster and faster, the insides of her 
silky thighs clamped so tightly against you that for a while you think 
you might suffocate. Her cunt gushes into your open mouth, your tongue 
running wildly along the rigid flesh of her sensitive young clit.

But her boyfriend keeps pounding, pounding into your gaping, wet slit. 
You fear he may fuck you for hours.

"C'mon Jimmy. Hurry up. Mom will be home from work soon. Give it to 
her! A big load - put a big load of cum in her, Jimmy - I know you can 
- you can do it easy without a rubber - easy!"

You panic when the words sink in. It's been over a month since your 
last birth control pill. Erin doesn't give you enough money for such 
"luxuries", as she puts it. Why would she want you to take such a 
terrible risk? Why would she want to have you filled, unprotected, with 
the potent semen of a teenage boy? Could you go this far for her? Could 
you give her total and final control of your life? You know the answer. 
You no longer have the will to choose. 

"It's no use, Raylene. She's just too big and sloppy inside - not like 
your tight little pussy. Damn it! I give up! Help me out - jerk me off, 
baby. I gotta cum, or my balls are gonna explode!"

He pulls out of you, his young cock still rock hard and glistening with 
your juices. Carla comes to the rescue with an idea of her own.

"Turn her over, honey," she says to the boy, with a shit-eating grin. 
"Ever ass-fucked an older woman?"

Jimmy brightens with the idea of finding a hole tight enough to get him 
off.

"No ma'am. Never have - but there's a first time for everything!"

Carla loosens the leash holding you down against the bench and orders 
you to turn over. "Pull your knees up - put your ass in the air where 
he can get at it, Babs. This boy needs some relief - now!"

You do what she says. You feel the tip of his cock push into you, then 
slide up into your bowels. You clench instinctively - once, twice, then 
the third time he cums, grunting and screaming as Raylene palms his 
balls and he pours his spunk deep inside you. He cums for a full 
minute. You cringe in disbelief as you feel him continue to spray your 
insides with stream after stream of scalding cum.

When they're finished with you, you scamper about the dirt lot, find 
your clothes, and dress yourself while Carla chats with the happy 
couple. They wave as Carla leads you away with a quick jerk of your 
leash. "Anytime," she calls back at them. "Babs just can't get enough."

It's dark when she brings you home. You're exhausted and filthy, and an 
unending trickle of cum runs from your asshole down your bare legs, a 
grim reminder of how close you came to taking the young boy's sperm in 
your cunt. You wait anxiously for it to drain from you on the long walk 
back.

It begins to spit rain just as you reach your trailer door. It feels 
good on your skin, washing away the dirt and semen that covers you from 
head to foot. Carla sees how much you enjoy the refreshing shower, and 
stops you before you pull the broken door open and retreat inside.

"You like the rain, honey?"

"I-I guess so," you stammer, still dazed and shaking.

"Well then, enjoy it, bitch. All night."

She ties the leash through a rusted hole in the door and heads for her 
trailer.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Erin will be here tomorrow morning to pick 
you up. She thought a night in the rain might be just the thing to 
clean you up. If you ask me, there ain't enough rain in all creation to 
do that."

You sit on your step and cry. The rain comes harder, drenching you, 
almost tearing what's left of your clothes from your body. The boy's 
cum still continues to leak from you, forming a small puddle between 
your legs where you sit, then mixes with the rain and vanishes into the 
ground. You try to think of Erin, and of the weekend you'll get to 
spend with her soon.

You doze off when the rain slows, until a hand shakes you awake. You 
look up into the rain and blackness to see a wet, hulking figure 
standing over you.

"Jerome need a woman tonight. You be good to Jerome, right? You make 
Jerome feel good. Ms. Erin say so. Ms. Erin say you take care of Jerome 
any time Jerome's dick need a pretty white woman..."

You can smell the liquor on his breath as he runs his large hands over 
your shoulders, then down to your breasts, easily ripping the flimsy 
top from your weary body. The cum-soaked thong tears away like tissue 
paper in his strong hands. You're on the ground before you can answer 
him, pressed into the mud by the great mass of his body. You spread 
your legs for him and let him enter you. He's so large, so thick, not 
like the boy. Not like the boy at all. Your belly swells when he fills 
you - stroke, stroke, slow at first, then faster. He's grunting, making 
loud, animal noises as he fucks you into the soft mud. You look over to 
see faces, everywhere, peering out of windows through the rain, 
watching the whore rut on the swampy ground with her black stud, 
listening in the night as he fucks her senseless. The cheap whore in 
the rusty trailer. But they all watch and listen, just the same.

You stare into the night and cry, letting him fuck you, giving him what 
he wants, what Erin wants. You think of what you were, so long ago you 
can barely remember, and what you've become. For Erin, always for Erin. 
And your tears, like the rain, fall in torrents, mixing together in the 
mud around you as a mountain of hard, black flesh closes in over you 
like the night, a night that never ends.




Read more of Night Writer's works at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Night_Writer/www/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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