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Message-ID: <55595asstr$1176297006@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Wendy Cries" <sh.cries@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Ariel: After the Dance - by shecries (mmf, voy, exhib, public sex) 3/7
Lines: 634
Date: Wed, 11 Apr 2007 09:10:06 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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feedback, criticism, comments, and anything that degrades, humiliates, and
objectifies me even further are always welcome at sh.cries@gmail.com (just
not always fullfilled)
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/she_cries/www/

Ariel:  After the Dance - part iii
(mmf, voy, exhib, public sex)

by she cries

     "I just don't see why he gets a blow job and I don't?"
     I leaned forward in the back seat, putting my hands on Chris' shoulder,
but letting my head get very close to Mitch on the passenger side, "You see,
Chris is nice, and sweet.  Manipulative, and a liar, but sweet.  You are
loud, and bitchy, and demanding."
     Chris was still chafing from being stopped.  So was I for that matter.
I couldn't touch him without getting a flush of arousal.  Why couldn't he
have just done it with me like a normal human being?
     Chris, however, shook me off, never taking his eyes from the road as he
drove, "Save it M." (some guys called each other by their first initials for
some macho guy reason they won't explain to me) "She's just a tease."
     I flopped back in the back seat, "Oh, Friday I'm a slut, today I'm a
tease."
     "Ronnie wouldn't know a slut if she bit him on the cock."
     I laughed hard at that, trying to stifle my stupid, girlish squeak.
But I couldn't let him get off with calling me a tease, "I'd have fucked you
silly, stupid."  Then I leaned up to Mitch, who still looked back at me, his
eyes full of anger.  I cradled his head in my hand, "But he didn't have the
heart to go through with it unless his friend got some cake and ice cream
too."
     Mitch's eyebrows went up at that.  It was the first either Chris or I
had said about why we were pissed at each other.
     I saw Chris blush, and felt my own eyebrow arch at the revelation that
their little threesome hadn't been as planned out as I thought.  Chris
glanced at me, "That wasn't cake and ice cream, more like...  Biscuits and
gravy."
     Mitch joined me in blinking at our driver, trying to work out where the
punch line was.  I let go of Mitch and sat back in the seat, "And since I
wouldn't let you fuck me with a ten inch football..."
     Mitch scowled again, "A football is eleven and one-quarter inches
long."
     Well, I knew they had to do something with all that grey matter in
their heads, "Okay, maybe an eleven inch football."
     Mitch couldn't come up with a flip retort, so he flopped back in his
own seat, but immediately wheeled on me again, "It's not like we ain't
giving you a ride, I mean, you can't even be cool about that."
     I didn't even bat an eyelash at the absurd comparison, "Mitch, giving a
ride is like a four on the scale of cool things to do for other people.  A
blow job is a ninety-seven."
     "So what do I have to do?  Loan you my jersey?  It's just a blow job."
     I gave him my most condescending stare.  "I'd recommend sleep.  It
promotes dreaming."
     Chris actually burst out with a chortle, and Mitch glared at his friend
before staring back at me, "I don't know why B. likes this little bitch.
You're everything we said you were."
     "Plus I sucked your friends dick.  And almost fucked him."  I got angry
all of a sudden, pissed at Chris for his stupid conditions and the fact that
I was still horny as Hell.  I thumped him on the back of the head, "Stupid
son of a bitch!"
     "Easy, bitch, I'm driving," Chris shouted, still watching the road.
     He had to be the most paranoid driver for a teenager I'd ever seen.  He
even came to full stops at stop signs.
     "I can't believe you screwed up with this chick," Mitch said, finally
sitting back in his seat, "She's totally begging for it."
     Chris just shook his head.
     Mitch looked back at me, "Look, man.  We'll do ya right here and now.
Chris can find a parking lot.  It's not like you ain't into it."
     God, how right he was.  It was only the implications of having done two
football players at once that held me back for playing along just to get the
satisfaction I was aching for.  That and Mitch's relentless insistence on
being a dick to me.  I didn't think I could handle two guys, and didn't want
to, but the boiling frustration of denying myself sex had only increased
under Mitch's pestering.  He was an asshole, but that he wanted to do me,
and bad, was undeniable.  That in itself had the effect of amplifying my
arousal about ten notches up, but his behavior only hardened my resolve that
he was not going to be the one to exploit Chris's handiwork-if it was really
Chris and not my own passions that had gotten me hot.  I still wanted to
fuck Chris, and bad, but the further away we got from my house, the more
obvious that I had wounded the boy's pride, and that he was reacting the
same way to his own spurned needs as I was with Mitch.
     "Mitch, why all of a sudden this insistence on scoring with the class
geek?  I mean, Friday you all thought I was a skinny, ugly nerd.  Now I'm
like the hottest commodity in town."
     "Don't flatter yourself." Mitch snarled, "I'd take Chelsea Whittaker
over your bony ass any day."
     He probably had, considering what I knew about the way the girl handled
her alcohol.
     Mitch went on, "You?  Shit, I'm just killing time on a Sunday."
     "That and you think I put out."
     "Well, yeah, shit."  He gave me a thorough looking over, "You ain't
exactly hot, but who needs a bunch of bullshit games when you just want to
get laid."
     I glared at Chris, "I know exactly how you feel." But that didn't mean
I was going to let them tag-team me.
     "Exactly!" Mitch proclaimed, though I had yet to see a smile across
those sullen features, "So what do you say?"
     I looked at the boy for a second.  "Okay" and quickly unbuttoned my
pants while Mitch stared in astonishment.  He looked at Chris, who actually
tore his eyes from the road to watch me unzip.
     "What are you waiting for?" I said looking up at Mitch as I pushed my
pants down over my ass.
     "No shit," there was my smile.  "Really?" Mitch undid his seatbelt as
he turned to scramble into the back seat with me.
     "No.  You can let me off here."  We were driving past the mall, and
Chris belted out a sardonic laugh as he pulled over.  Mitch's face was
aghast.
     I scooted over to the sidewalk-facing door, hiking my pants up.
     "You fucking slut!" Mitch's face was beat-red with rage, and I screamed
as he lunged his hand at me, but Chris grabbed his friend and threw him back
in his seat like Mitch was a rag doll.  He said, "Mitch.  You were asking
for it."
     Mitch, pinned under his friend's arm craned his neck around to see me,
he could barely keep from baring his teeth in rage, and I was suddenly
petrified, terrified of his rage.  Then I watched as he contorted the scowl
into a grin, an evil, forced grin, and then his eyes lit up (How had they
gotten so dark?), "That doesn't mean I have to like it."  The grin was
genuine.
     "Sorry, big guy." I said, trembling, opening the door, street sounds
barreling into the climate controlled car.
     "Some day, little girl."
     I glanced from him to Chris, who was grinning, "We'll be at the food
court at four, if you want to hitch up later."
     I glanced out at the line of bushes and short trees that cluttered the
low hill, the border of the mall parking lot.  Two black guys were loitering
on a bus stop bench a few yards ahead of us in the shade of a particularly
large tree.
     "Sure, Chris, I'm just gonna go fuck these two guys first."  I stepped
out of the car and slammed the door shut.
     My pants were tight enough that they didn't fall down, but the front
flap (two zippers remember?) was hanging down, and I was really glad that
I'd gone ahead and gone with Eric's boxers instead of tiny panties as I
zipped them up.  I did the two buttons as Chris found an opening in traffic
and drove off, when I saw the two black guys watching with interest.
     Grinning at my narrow escape and victory over Mitch, I was in a really
good mood despite being horny as fuck, I made a big show of wiping my face
off on my shoulder, then spat three or four times into the gutter, then
running my hand up my throat and wiping it off on the hem of the shirt.
     I smiled at the two boys as I passed them by.
     "Sweetie, you didn't fuck those two boys in that car there."
     He said it, but it sounded a lot like a question.  Then I recognized
them.  "You guys were thrown out of the dance on Friday."
     They were both a bit older than me, probably juniors or seniors.  They
both had on black, baggy jeans, and hooded sweatshirts, though one had
bright yellow boxers showing where he'd hiked his pants down.  He had the
biggest lips I'd ever seen on a man, and a wide, flat nose.  His friend was
actually pretty good looking.  They were both as black as black men get.
     "We were just giving a fellow student a lesson in racial tolerance."
The handsome one said.
     "Little prick was disrespecting my brother." Fat Lips said with a grin,
apparently more satisfied that he'd taught some guy a lesson than upset that
he'd probably been suspended from school.
     "You guys are brothers?" I said dubiously.
     "All niggers is brothers." The handsome one said.  "You go to our
school?"
     "Yeah, I'm a sophomore."  He was pretty cute, and I realized that I was
considering him as a substitute for Chris.  I had to force myself to stop
from grinning.  If rumors were true I'd be the one in the hospital this
time.  Still, they seemed all right, "My name's Ariel."
     "Pierre," my handsome nigger said extending a hand, which I took, "This
is Raul."
     "Haitian or Jamaican?"
     The brothers looked at each other, eyebrows raised.  Pierre, still
holding my hand in his large, coarse, strong grip said, "Haitian little
sister.  Our folks.  How come you know what the fuck you're talking about?"
He let go of my hand, spreading his arms wide along the back of the bench,
"Most white people think all niggers is named Jim Crow or Totonga from
Africa."  He nodded to the bench seat next to him.
     I shook my head.  I really didn't want to get to into this.  I mean,
they seemed nice, but they had been thrown out for fighting, they were
older, bigger, and potentially a bigger threat to my tender sex than the
entire junior varsity team.  Besides, I didn't really know any black guys,
our school being mostly white.  I had to admit that that alone intimidated
me, not to mention their gagnsta rap outfits.
     "I pay attention in school," I said answering his question, "Well, it
was nice meeting you, I've gotta-"
     Raul cut me off, "Sit down, we got an eighth of green bud, shame not to
share it with someone."
     I had thought black guys liked girls with fat asses and big tits.  I
mean, I barely qualified on the lips score.  "No," I said, "I don't smoke
weed."  I tried to smile, "Thanks, though.  I'm just here to meet some
friends."  The way they were looking at me made me really uncomfortable.
Either that or I was really a closet racist, because they were looking
exactly the same as they had before I'd contemplated sex with Pierre.
     "When you meeting your friends?" Raul asked, digging in a pocket.
     "Uh, I..." I tried to remember the time, "Two." I said.  I'd probably
been fooling around with Chris for a couple hours.
     Raul pulled a watch out of his pocket.  It was attached by the
watchband to his belt loop, "Shit, you're early."  He stuffed the watch back
in his pocket, "We go, smoke a doobie, you'll be flying high and chill by
the time they get here."
     I realized he was staring at my tits.  I didn't have a bra on and I was
showing lots of jiggle.  I bet my nipples were showing right through.  I was
going to have to stop acting like a little girl one of these days.
     "I don't know," I said.  "It's not really my thing."
     "The lot right behind Macy's," Pierre said, "S'a loading zone, but it's
closed on Sundays."
     Hadn't I just told them twice I don't smoke weed?
     Not that it was that that was putting me off all that much.  Over the
weekend I'd discovered sex, smoking, and drinking.  I'd even decided that I
liked all three.  I was actually kind of curious to try smoking pot.
     However, I was horny as Hell, and the last time I wound up alone with a
bunch of boys I while hot and bothered I lost my virginity to the worst of
them.  I decided to be frank,
     "Look, Pierre, Raul.  I don't mean to sound bitchy, but I'm a little
jaded about the idea of wandering off alone with a couple guys I never met
before."
     Then again, I had just gotten into a car with a couple of guys who had
tried to gang bang me.  By that standard Raul and Pierre were saints.  Was
it because they were black?
     Pierre laughed and leaned forward, putting his hand on my lower back.
I really wish guys could keep their hands to themselves when I'm hot and
bothered.  But then I'd been more than willing to go along with it when even
Ronnie had his paws on me, just to prolong the experience.
     "She don't trust us." He said to his friend, "I said she's a smart
bitch."
     What was with guys calling girls bitches?
     "Tell you what," Pierre said to me, "We can smoke out later.  How bout
some food.  We can chill, hang out.  I like you Ariel."
     I thought about how Chris had shut Mitch up and led him back to the
car.  How I'd called the boy back and ultimately tried to fuck him-rewarding
the good cop.  Men knew just how to play a girl.  Still, if they really had
other intentions than getting high why back down?  It's not like I couldn't
have split any time by now.
     What was I saying.  Of course they had intentions, why single out a
lone girl to go smoke out with.  Still, it didn't follow that they'd try and
rape me.  It's not as if they didn't go to my school.
     I looked at Pierre.  His eyes were stark white against his dark skin,
and he really was a good looking guy.  I wished his clothes weren't so
baggy, so I could see more of his body, "I never smoked weed before."

     The boys laughed aloud as I burst out coughing, though they'd done the
same thing when they took their first hits.  I was having a really hard time
figuring out if it was having any effect on me at all, because I felt pretty
normal, though a little tired.
     Pierre and Raul had led me out to the loading dock, right behind the
mall.  Surprisingly enough, since the mall was packed on Sundays, the
loading dock was desolate.  It was a long, downward sloping ramp that went
down about 10 feet below street level and was as long as a big rig.  But the
walls on either side were high enough that though there was traffic going
past constantly we couldn't see the cars.  We could see the occasional head
walking past, but there wasn't a sidewalk there, so there weren't many
chances of being seen.
     This super-giant trash compactor took up nearly one half of the dock,
broken bottles and other trash littered its edges.  The dock itself was only
about three feet up, and was further shielded from the parking lot by piles
of palette jacks stacked on the edges.  It was behind one of these that we
hunkered down, munching on this bag of beef jerky that Pierre had in one of
his pockets and sucking down bottles of chocolate Yoo-Hoo (I thought only
kids drank that stuff, but they had insisted on picking up, like, six
bottles of it before coming down here).  It went surprisingly well with the
incredible dryness that parched me after the first hit.
     I wasn't mistaken at all about why they'd invited me back there, and
both Raul and Pierre had begun flirting with me in earnest since they'd
gotten up from the bench, but they were also really cool about it, and like
most guys, they didn't push too hard without provocation, and they kept
their distance, which was more than I could say for the guys at the dance on
Friday.
     One thing about getting high, if that's what was happening to me:  It
definitely took my mind off my raging libido.  When they touched me, or
poked fun at my 'skinny white ass' I felt no burst of heat, shame, nothing.
I was actually better able to control myself, it seemed, than when I was
sober.
     "Let me ask you something," Pierre asked, laying down beside me where I
was watching the clouds go by.  I had never noticed how tasty they looked,
"When you're fuckin a man, and he lays down on you, doe he get all sliced up
into ribbons and shit, because those arms look like they could cut steel."
     I couldn't stop the huge grin from spreading on my lips, "I wouldn't
know."
     "Shit, you're a virgin?"
     "No." I said, turning to see that his face was an inch from my own.  I
scooted away a bit because it hurt my eyes to look at him so close, "I've
been with two men."
     "And I suppose they survived."
     I giggled, "The first one had to go to the hospital."  I couldn't stop
giggling, like a fucking cheerleader.
     "Shit," Pierre looked at his friend, who was slurping on a Yoo-Hoo and
staring at my breasts, still.  Not that I blamed him, they practically stood
straight up still, though they hung a little to the sides, and my nipples
were pretty well outlined.  "I told you she was dangerous."
     Raul quipped, "You the dangerous one."
     "Shit." I had finally stopped giggling, and saw Pierre adjust the
crotch of his pants.  I knew instantly what they were talking about.
     I must have really been stoned, because I couldn't keep from asking,
"So is it true what they say about black guys?"  I rolled up on my side and
watched his hand so he'd know what I meant.
     "Shit, you ain't never been with a brother?"
     Okay, maybe control had been the wrong word before.  I must have
forgotten we were hormonal high-school students or something, because you
don't talk about penis size when you're alone with two of them on a deserted
loading dock unless you have a ruler.
     I shook my head, "I've only been with two guys."  If you could call it
that.
     "Well, girl, there's only one way to find out." And he crossed his arms
behind his head, just like Chris had.
     Shit.  Like a ball of fire through a fog bank, the heat roared up
inside me.
     "No way."  I said, "Unh-uh."
     "Girl, you don't have to fuck it, just take a look."
     Oh, man, I'd been burning with this since four am, and I could only
curse Chris for his stupidity.  I needed to calm down or I'd wind up taking
two guys after all.
     But Pierre just lay there smiling, while Raul sat a good five feet
away.  Neither was making a move towards me.
     "Hey, can I get another hit?" I asked Raul, who was holding the stash.
     Raul grinned, "Looks like we ruined another one." But he was digging in
his pocket, "Gotta roll a new doob." He gestured to the mini stub of the
roach on the pack of cigarettes he had next to him.  Good, I thought.  If I
could get wasted enough I might calm down.  Besides, I was feeling no pain.
Particularly where I'd been aching since Friday.   Hell, I couldn't even
feel any menstrual cramps.  I could get used to weed.
     But Pierre brought me back on track.  "Come on, girl, you're dyin to
check."
     How did he know that?  I asked myself, but the gleam in his eyes told
me he was still joking, or at least he thought he was.
     "I don't want to see your dick." I said, forcing myself to keep things
playful.
     "It ain't like you're a virgin, Ariel."
     "Come on," Raul said, curling a rolling paper in his fingertips, "I'm
dyin to see the look on your face."
     I needed a toke on that joint.
     "Jesus, I don't want to know any more." And I didn't.  If I got into
trouble with a cock the size they were implying I could wind up in a
wheelchair for a month.
     "Well, how about showing us yours?" Pierre said, rolling onto his side
and running a hand up my belly.
     Oh shit, it was happening.  This was what they'd gotten me down here
for.  They had me just where they wanted me.  I was going to get fucked by
two black guys and I was so wet and horny that they'd barely have to coax me
to get me started.
     I slammed my hand on his, trying to ignore the flush of pleasure
cascading over my bosom.  "Please." I pleaded.
     The hand stopped under mine, and started to retreat, "S'cool, baby, I
ain't gonna take advantage of your first high." And his hand slid down.
     For a guy who wasn't taking advantage of me he slid it pretty goddamn
low.  So many shivers went stampeding down my spine I had to sit up to keep
from arching my back and moaning in response.  I opened my mouth to protest,
but Pierre cut me off.
     "What's that in your pocket?"
     He had his hand on the camera.  I'd forgotten to take it out before I
left.
     "Nothing," I grabbed his hand, but he was already digging into my
pocket, and I could barely fight him as fingers probed perilously close to
my sex sending shivers of excitement shooting through me and heat flushing
into my shorts.
     I curled up around his hand, letting out a high squeal and panting with
excitement as the boy tugged the camera out, "Cool, Pictures."
     Pierre seemed to have mistaken my rush of arousal as a ticklish
reaction to him digging in what was admittedly a very ticklish and private
spot.  Raul watched me with wonder, the joint he was rolling forgotten in
his hands.
     "Give it back." I lunged, but Pierre held me off him with a strong arm.
     "I like pictures." He said smiling, "Hey Raul, you know how these
work?"
     "Yeah." Raul said, snapping out of his reverie.  He leaned to take the
camera, but I snatched it from Pierre as he held it out.
     "Hey, sorry, I ain't gonna keep it." Pierre said as I frantically pawed
through the little digital menu looking for an erase function.  The only way
I knew how to erase it was to delete them one by one.
     "What's on that camera anyway?" Raul asked.
     Pierre looked a little more put out by my actions.  "Shit, I was just
looking."
     I looked up and saw him looking at me with what could only be described
as disappointment.  I looked at Raul, who reacted to Pierre's comment in
kind.
     "It's private." I said.
     "Yeah, whatever." Pierre said, laying back.
     Shit.  I thought.  They think I thought he was robbing me, or some
racist bullshit.
     I leaned back on the stack of palettes, the hard wood grating against
my spine, but I started flashing through the pictures, deleting them one by
one.
     There I was, on my couch, naked and spread wide.  It was hard to see
the cum on my sex and on my face, but I imagine they'd show if blown up full
screen on a computer.  My eyes were shut.  I deleted another two or three
pictures like that when I looked up and saw Pierre sulking.
     "I just didn't want you to see the pictures, Pierre."
     "Yeah, whatever.  How bout that joint, Raul?"
     I grimaced.  The picture on the screen showed me spread wide, two
fingers rubbing my puffy, beat red sex.  My mouth was open and my expression
glazed.  Not exactly my first choice for a demonstration-although looking at
this pic in front of sexy Pierre filled me with apprehension and even more
arousal.  I flashed forward looking for a shot of me that wasn't quite so
vulgar.  Preferably one that I could make PG-13 with a finger.  I found one
of me getting up, I remembered, to climb on the couch on my hands and
knees.  Carl was a sick fuck.  I could see the cum on my chin, but it wasn't
necessarily that obvious on the three inch screen to someone who might not
know it was there.  I had one foot on the ground and was lifting the other
as I turned to the right.  My ass was in back and my cunt was covered by a
knee.  My breasts were only partially visible behind my arms.
     "Look." I said, and I held the camera out to Pierre, my heart thumping
hard.  I was showing a naked picture of myself to a pair of guys I'd met
half an hour ago.  I could only hope that given the turn our little getaway
had taken that this wouldn't be taken as a come on.
     "It's okay," Pierre didn't look, though Raul strained to see.
     "Look you stupid fuck.  You wanted to see mine, here it is."
     The boy's head veritably slammed to look at the camera.  His mouth fell
open.
     "What?   Lemmee see." Raul asked.
     I forced down a denial and held it out to him, letting him peer at it
for a second before snatching it back and deleting the next couple snaps
while the two boys stared flabbergasted.
     "Shit, Ariel, I'm sorry."
     "You didn't know."  Delete. Delete. Delete.
     "I thought..."
     "Save it." I snarled.  It was my turn to be angry.  I didn't want an
explanation."  I was at the end of the pictures and I started scrolling back
to find the ones I'd skipped at the beginning, and where I'd been looking
for a non-X rated one..
     "So you still wanna see my dick?"
     I punched him, hard in the gut, and though the boy acted hurt it was
like punching corrugated steel.  He was definitely built.  I looked at the
black screen.  "Here." I held it out to Raul.  "Let's get a picture of
this."
     I don't know what I was thinking, but I barely had to unsnap Pierre's
low hung pants before finding the outline of his manhood in his shorts.
     They may not have been exaggerating, but he didn't seem any bigger than
Jerry.  I gave the boy a glance, shaking my head and rolling my eyes.  I
didn't know why I was doing this.  Maybe my way of reinforcing the fact that
things were cool with us.
     I extracted the limp member through the hole in his boxers, saying, "I
like it when men wear boxers." And then I had it in my hand.
     It wasn't as big as Jerry's.  It took up two hand lengths, granted, as
it flopped around, and it was as black as night.  The head was round and
bulbous, but seemed firm.  I didn't know what to expect, but I realized I'd
never seen a flaccid penis before.  Jerry, Wade, Rusty, Chris.  They were
all hard when I got to business.
     I looked back and forth at the guys.  They were waiting, "I've seen
bigger."
     Shit, Pierre sat up on his elbows, "You been with two guys and you seen
bigger.  It ain't even hard yet."
     I shrugged, "So what am I supposed to do about that?"
     He grinned and I saw the flash of the camera go off.  Raul didn't want
to miss the expression on my face when I realized that once again I'd put my
foot in my mouth.
     Laying there on my elbow with two handfuls of cock wasn't exactly the
best position to claim that I wasn't that kind of girl.  "No, that's your
job."
     "Come on, at least rub it a little."
     I wanted to let go, and refuse outright, but I was growing more and
more fascinated with the way it flopped around in my hands.  Besides, I
simply couldn't deny how excited it got me, flush and eager for attention as
my body was, to think about making the thing in my hands stand to attention.
     But I couldn't bear the thought of losing control again.  Not here.
Not with these two guys.  Maybe if it were just Pierre...
     "Why don't you take off your shirt." Raul said.
     Lost in my thoughts I looked blankly at the guy.
     He explained, "Hell, I'd get hard for a look at those tits."
     That made sense, I reasoned with myself.  I mean, Pierre was lying down
with his dick out.  Hell, I'd just flashed them a nude picture of myself.  A
little skin couldn't hurt, and we were well shielded by the palettes.  It
would save me having to do anything lewd to get him hard, at any rate.
     Sliding the shirt off, outside in full daylight with two black men
watching was like sliding into a hot Jacuzzi.  My body tingled with
electricity, my chest thumping hard.  I could feel my nipples contract and
grow hard under their stares.
     Pierre reached out and took them, one in each hand and firmly caressed
them, "Those ain't too bad for a skinny white chick." He said softly while I
knelt there, gasping.  I didn't do a goddamn thing to stop him.
     "Look, guys..." I groaned, trying to fight the waves of heated ecstasy
that rose up, flushing my bosom with pleasure under his hands, "This doesn't
mean..."  I could have sworn I was going to say this before I took off the
shirt.
     Pierre hadn't retreated, and was indeed rubbing his palms across my
nipples while I rocked back and forth under his caress.  My eyes shut tight
I heard, rather than saw the flash of the camera go off.
     I opened them.  I was going to say something, but the sight of Pierre's
still flaccid penis distracted me, and I reached out for it, breathing
deeply, nearly consumed by Pierre's ministrations.  "It's still soft."
     "Must be the weed." Pierre said, his face now hovering close to mine.
I turned away, afraid he'd kiss me.
     "I want to see it."  I said, numbly, the only thing I could think to
slow him down.
     Pierre was very good at taking hints, and backed off, letting one hand
wrap around my shoulder and settling the other on a thigh.  I immediately
wished he hadn't stopped.  I forced myself not to look at Raul.  I bet he
was hard.
     "Maybe a little more physical stimulation..." I heard Raul say.
     I looked at the boy who's hands were driving me wild, "Just a little
bit, okay?  I don't want to go any further."
     Pierre looked disappointed.  It was obvious that I was worked up.  It
was obvious I wanted him to pleasure me.  But here I was refusing to do the
same for him.  I took his penis.  It seemed a little firmer now.  I had
intended to stroke it, but his coarse hands were heaven on my smooth, pale
body, and I didn't want him to think I wasn't appreciative.  My hands looked
very white and tiny embracing Pierre's cock like that, and I thought how it
would look having that jet black member in my mouth as I knelt over it.
     I wouldn't have to think for long, because Raul snapped a picture as I
took Pierre into my mouth, holding the preview up so I could watch, like
looking in a mirror, Pierre's massive member spreading my lips wide open.
     I had been wrong.  It was every bit as big as Jerry's.  The head felt
bigger too, nuzzled against my tongue I could hardly get my mouth around the
erect, swollen glans as I eyed the picture of me, topless, bent over a giant
black cock, taking it in my mouth.  I shut my eyes, not wanting to think
about how trashy I looked, concentrating on the great, salty lump in my
mouth as Pierre gave me appreciative moans.  He favored me by reaching down
and coaxing more heat out of my bared bosom as I slid up and down,
swallowing the whole of his head, licking it constantly, trying to make it
wetter in my dry mouth.
     I felt a hand run down my backside, curling up, and cradling my sex.
     Too many hands, I thought for a sec before shuddering with pleasure.
Even armored through pants, boxers, and a pad the lightest touch sent me
reeling, and I found myself once again jamming myself hard against and
uninvited hand which ground hard against me in firm strokes, Raul taking his
piece as his friend groaned with pleasure at my newly acquired skill.
     I felt a clumsy hand searching for my zipper, and I reached down and
pushed the hand away.  I wasn't ready for sex, I don't care how good that
hand felt.  But Jerry responded to my wandering attention...  I mean Pierre.
The boy took my head and reminded me where my focus should be, and I found
myself stroking him again, swallowing him, hardly aware as my pants were
unbuttoned and unzipped until a sudden jerk pulled me off my man.  Raul
tugged my pants past my hips.
     "Shit, Pierre, she's wearing boxers."
     Pierre who had let go of my chest to enjoy my ministrations ran a hand
over my behind.  I let him guide me back onto his cock.
      My pants were at my knees, now, and I felt Pierre push his hand under
the waistband of Eric's boxers.  Two more hands grabbed the elastic and
started to tug,
     "Please." I said, drooling on Pierre's cock, my words frantic and
gasping even as I rocked my hips unconsciously looking for the pressure that
took me from reluctant to eager, "I can't." And I found a hand, my own
taking hold of my shorts as I nuzzled with the vast black member, my mouth
aching with the strain.
     But Pierre's roving fingertips were persuading me to reconsider,
"Course you can, baby.  Course you can."
     But the crushing fear of that penetration, the thought of being bucked
back and forth by two guys, the thought of two black guys riding roughshod
over me made me ashamed, guilty, and horribly scared, even as my body craned
and arched itself as if it had already decided on its fate.
     "I can't.  Not both of you.  Not at once."
     Another hand ran gently along my body, and I heard Raul's voice, "Come
on honey, I just want to get a better look at you."
     I peered out, tears flushing my eyes, Pierre's member thumping against
my face as pulses of arousal shot through him, "Come on baby," Pierre said,
"Don't stop now."
     Raul was watching me, very close, "Just lets take a look, okay?"
     I nodded, "But you won't..." he shook his head,
     "Just want to see."
     I straightened up and let Pierre's manhood fall away from my lips.  My
knees were starting to hurt a lot on the concrete and my jaw cracked
painfully as I closed it.  Pierre was visibly agitated, and Raul was lifting
his hands from my body.  Both boys were waiting to see what I did, neither
seemed inclined to stop me.  I had shown them the picture, I thought, but
that, and even me sucking Pierre's cock, was a bit different from bearing my
ass while I did so.
     But I believed them, and Pierre looked so unhappy while he waited for
me to decide.  I wondered if he was close.  I wondered if I'd actually make
a man cum.  I bet he'd like to see more of me, I reasoned.
     Careful to conceal the pad as I pushed the shorts down I found the
sensation similar to stripping off my shirt, but amplified as I bared my
essentials, trying to fold my clothes under my knees for more padding.
Conscious that Raul was going to be able to see right into my pulsing,
throbbing, eager vagina I bent over regardless, to finish Pierre off while
another flash cascaded over us.  Pierre began to buck in earnest.
     I pulled back, my jaw cracking again and held my head aside,
anticipating the eruption, but Pierre cried, "Don't stop now, baby."
Determined to see this through I opened my mouth again and took him in,
squeezing my lips as hard as I could and stroking him with my free hand,
watching his big, swollen balls come popping through the slit in his shorts,
Pierre's hands all over me, rubbing, squeezing, and then pushing on my head
as he let out a bohemian growl and erupted into my lips a great salty froth
of acrid brine, bitter and pungent, I could only just force my mouth off it
as I pumped him through surge after surge of great, billowing semen,
splattering me every which way, in my nose, my chin, my cheeks, oozing from
my lips, I sat back but my chest was pummeled with another riot of sperm as
he leaned to me, his flopping, pulsing cock spraying me down past my navel
until it simply oozed out little globules of creamy, glistening pleasure.
     My black lover had a huge smile on his face as he gazed up at me,
doused in his ecstasy, and I felt myself flushed with pride, even as I
sputtered up his sperm.  Pride for the way I had taken him, served him, and
delivered him up.
     But that sensation soon transformed into another as I felt hands come
up behind, stroking my buttocks, running crudely into my cleft, but to great
effect as my body crumbled, yearning for its own turn on the wheel.
     "How about I gets a turn, eh?"
     I shook my head, "I can't.  My jaw."
     His hand caressed up my back to the shoulder.  I didn't have to wonder
why he didn't explore further as globules of Pierre's passions dribbled down
my chin, "You don't have to do a thing, child.  Just put your hands down."
     God, why couldn't I have normal sex just once? I thought, but only
briefly.  I couldn't exactly claim that I was saving myself for ordinary
sex, in a bed, with just one guy in the room, and was only a hair's breadth
from not caring anyway.  I did as he said, waiting, gritting my teeth
against another mighty incursion into my loins.
     Oh it hurt.  It did, like little burns shooting down my sides, but Oh
My God, it was so insignificant to the shooting blisters of total rapture
that ruptured inside me as Raul straddled my bound legs and pierced me from
behind.  I was barely aware of Pierre as he scampered out of the way because
between my screaming moans of pleasure, air being knocked out of me as I
fought to suck it back in, and the flames engulfing me, nothing else
existed.  I was an island of pleasure, the lacerations of pain enhancing,
and drawing into sharper focus the magnitude of the pleasure of being fucked
for real, by a man who actually wanted to be inside me, not prove a stupid
point or serve his own perverted ends.
     Beyond any fathoming I could have imagined the waves of orgasmic relief
that washed over me after a day of building pressure left me crying with
real tears of ecstasy, unable to do anything but hold my ass high and
accommodate Raul's villainous girth.  He held me up with his strong arms and
drove into me, ejecting himself into me, two man's seed at once, inside and
out, and a flood of orgasms bludgeoning me into oblivion until he finally
slowed to a stop, his hipbones grinding into my hard, bony ass as the last
throbbing pulsations finished him off and he laid me down, rolling me onto
my back onto the cool concrete, cooing with satisfaction as Raul moaned with
relieved pleasure.  Two of them, I thought.  Two men I had treated to such
pleasures, and I watched as Raul hiked up his pants and covered himself.
     "Shit Raul, you barely lasted a minute."
     A minute?
     "Fuck, man, that bitch is tight!" Raul said hoisting his shaft into his
underwear.  He wasn't nearly as big as he'd felt, I thought.  Practically
smaller than Chris.
     Then I thought of Pierre's dick and how much Jerry had hurt.  I was
glad things worked out the way they did as I curved up behind my knees,
grinning playfully at Pierre as he snapped another picture of me covered
with his cum, trying to get my pants up, my sex oozing with yet another
man's gift.
     Oh, I could really get used to this sex thing, I thought.  Nothing
resembling shame bothered me-though my vagina stung like a bitch.
     "Give me that joint." I ordered, and smiled again as Raul snapped a
picture of me toking off the joint Pierre held over me while I lay back
letting my lovers minister to me.
     I wondered if Carl had a printer.  Some nice color prints would make a
nice present to give the boys in return for what they had done for me.

To be continued
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