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From: Thinking Horndog <im_a_thinker@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Mack's Mamas 07/08 [Thinking Horndog](MF Mf MMF M+F oral anal rough 1st ir)
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Date: Sat, 26 Jul 2008 07:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Macks Mamas_7.txt" begin>

Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Mack's Mamas
Part: 7 of 8
Universe: Mack's Mamas
Summary: Pete stumbles upon Mack in a bar and discovers a serious gravy train

Keywords: MF Mf MMF M+F oral anal rough 1st ir

Chapter 7

	The party went on for another couple of hours.  Rajiv and Edwina very
obviously went another round in the bedroom, then they came out and Edwina
gave everybody a hug before they left -- presumably to go home together.

	Neither of them was ever the same again.  Edwina stopped wearing
clothing two sizes too big and designed to hide her and started appearing in
public looking and acting more female.  Rajiv ditched his shyness.  The couple
went together for about three months, I think, before parting apparently
amicably; soon after that, Rajiv started rotating little hotties through his
bedroom to the tune of one every couple of weeks.  It took Elliott two weeks
to get up the nerve to approach Edwina, but when he did, it stuck; I think
they're engaged.

	But I'm getting ahead of myself -- there were other things going on,
some of them unexpected...

	Irene had her work cut out for her.  When Robert climbed off, Jim
ambled over for a blow job; Irene knelt up and delivered a world-class effort
and Jim retired from the field after only a couple of minutes, having emptied
his sizeable dick down Irene's throat, grunting.  He thanked her, waved,
tucked himself in, and hit the door, more or less confirming my assumption
that he had a supply elsewhere.

	Rudy held off.

	Robert waved Irene over to the chair he was sitting in for a blow job.
He made a picture, looking like a patrician dilettante, relaxed in the chair
looking unconcerned while a black woman gobbled his cock.  He even managed to
carry on a conversation for a couple of minutes before Irene's big mouth took
too much of his attention.  I think the woman could dislocate her jaw like a
snake; I KNOW she could bury her nose in your crotch and manage to wash your
balls with her tongue while swallowing the head of your dick, because she'd
done it to me!  After a few minutes, Robert got quiet and sweaty-looking, then
urgent, then a look of vague surprise crossed his face and he hunched up and
clutched her head to his crotch while he undulated a few times, then he
flopped back and relaxed again.  Irene coughed a couple of times, made a
production of swallowing, and got up.  Robert, being Robert, thanked her
dismissively and that was that.

	And Rudy held off.

	Robert and Elliott were too fastidious, but given the opportunity,
Irwin decided to hold out for the whole experience.  "Do you really like
anal?" he asked Irene.

	Elliott said, "EWWW," and Robert wrinkled his nose, and Irene replied,
"It really depends.  Generally, I don't, but I have.  He just wanted to make
sure you get your money's worth."  She eyed him a moment.  "If you want it,
though, Baby, you can have it -- it's what I'm here for."

	"I might never get another shot," Irwin allowed.

	"Okay, then.  I'll bend over the couch arm.  The thing about anal is
how you do it -- if you take it easy, it'll be better for both of us."  Irene
shifted her eyes to me.  "I can do this dry if I have to, but you'd probably
appreciate it if we were lubed..."  I figured she was worried about what I
would tell Mack, so I waved it off.

	"Yeah, good idea..." Irwin grunted.  He was anxious to get on with it
at that point, not worried about details.  Irene got out a bottle of lube that
was stored in an end table drawer and said," Rub this on you, Baby -- it'll
help."  Before handing the bottle to him, she took a squirt in her hand to
apply to her ass.  Then she bent over the couch arm while Irwin lubed up.

	It didn't look like fun.  I think Irwin was a little over-anxious and
under-lubricated at the start.  Irene grunted a lot and didn't say anything
about how good it felt -- which for me was a dead giveaway that she wasn't
having a good time -- but then, in reality, that wasn't what she was there
for...

	Irwin grunted and groaned and pushed his meat into her, holding her
hips while he did it to stabilize her.  Irwin's having a thick cock probably
made things worse for Irene, but I guess it just made things tighter for
Irwin.  He got real happy real fast and I found myself wondering if the whole
experience might give Irwin an interest in guys -- he'd had a blow job and an
ass fuck and totally bypassed pussy at that point.  Robert looking disgusted,
got up, dressed, and left while Irwin was still pumping away in Irene's ass,
the pair of them more or less grunting in concert.  About the time I decided
that I really didn't care to watch any more, Irwin got red in the face and
jammed away seriously for about six strokes, then let out a protracted grunt.
I was pretty sure at that point that his balls were jumping, but I didn't
bother to circle around to look.  Then he backed off and grunted, "Yuck..."
and headed for the bathroom, holding a hand under his dick to keep the goo
from dripping off.

	Irene clapped a hand over her ass and looked up at me with an
expression of mixed discomfort and relief, asking, "Pete, Baby, could you
bring me a paper towel, maybe?"  I nodded and went into the kitchen to get her
something to plug her ass with.

	And Rudy held off.

	When Irene apparently had her ass under control (after Irwin came
back, allowing her a trip to the bathroom, too) Elliott decided to get
seconds.  Irene wasn't as energetic, but Elliott didn't really care -- and she
seemed to enjoy it, anyway.  Elliott took his time in her and came away very
pleased with his performance, bolstered by Irene's positive reaction.  When he
was done, he thanked her and went over and collected his clothing and got
dressed, asking Irwin, "Had enough?"

	And Rudy STILL held off.

	Irwin hadn't had enough -- or his head hadn't, anyway.  He tried for
about ten minutes to get it up again, but anal sex had taken a lot out of him.
Eventually, with ill grace, he gave up.  Irene wasn't to blame, either; she
tried masturbation and another blow job and he just didn't have it in him.
Finally, Elliott said, "Come, Irwin -- let's go home."  Irwin, embarrassed,
didn't have it in him to be gracious, so he grumbled and made excuses all the
way out the door.

	I became aware of Rudy eyeing me.  "So, Pete..."  I threw up my hands
in the universal gesture of disinterest and disassociation and Rudy finally
lumbered forward.  "You okay?" he asked Irene.

	"I'll live," Irene grunted.

	"Got any left?"

	"For you, Baby?  Sure."

	"Let's go in the bedroom," Rudy rumbled, taking her by the hand.

	I watched them disappear around the corner, then busied myself picking
up the cards and the chips and emptying out half-empty beer cups and such.
Irene was on the hook to clean up, too, which was kind of mean in my book, but
what the fuck...  I wandered around for a few minutes, then decided that the
pair of them really didn't need me -- I could go home to bed and pick up Irene
in the morning.  I headed for the bedroom to brief the plan becoming aware of
a series of pounding smacks and Irene's voice gasping, "Oh...  Shit...  Oh...
Fuck... Oh...  Baby...  So...  Good...  Fuck..." in counterpoint.  Peering
around the corner, I found them crossways on the bed with Irene riding Rudy
cowgirl -- but Rudy was doing all the work, surging up from below.  I'd seen
Irene happy -- she'd clearly enjoyed herself with me, for instance, and I
figured that Robert had done a good job -- and maybe Elliott -- but one look
at her breathlessly beatific expression told me that she was in a totally
different place.  Rudy was ramming what looked like a foot-long salami up into
her from below and she had nothing but praise for his efforts.  There was
white foam around the base of his cock, and I was willing to bet it was new
juice from her -- not leftovers from someone else -- being whipped into a
froth.  Rudy had a titty in each hand, rubbing nipples, and Irene was leaning
into it, bracing her small frame against his hands. As I watched, she reached
down to stroke his face and rub his shoulders, gasping out her pleasure a word
at a time.  Maybe it was voyeurism, or maybe I was genuinely concerned about
disturbing what was obviously an intimate moment, but whichever way you slice
it, I hung out without announcing myself while Irene's sounds of pleasure got
louder and more urgent and the expression on her face got more and more
intense until she was screeching, "OH!  BABY!  FUCK!  SHIT!  FUCK!"  Then her
eyes rolled up in her head and she started to shake and the sound of Rudy's
strokes got sloppy and wet while she arched herself backward and whined
through her clenched teeth!  I certainly hadn't accomplished THAT!  She
flopped forward, panting, and gasped, "Jeezus, Baby!  Where the fuck have you
been all my life?"

	"Waitin' for the day," Rudy puffed, "Waitin' for the day."

	"Don't let me hold you guys up," I announced myself.  "Irene, I'm
going home.  You guys enjoy yourselves and I'll pick you up in the morning..
Is that cool?"

	"Uh..huh!" Irene nodded.

	"Yeah, thanks, Man," Rudy gasped.

	"Don't hurt yourselves..." I laughed, and hit the door.

                        -----------------------

	The next morning, I got up, cleaned up, and wandered over to the party
apartment to look in on the disaster.  Irene was up and moving -- slowly.
Given what she'd been through, I really didn't blame her.  "Sore?"

	"Tired," Irene grinned.  "It was a long night BEFORE Rudy came
along...  He's that tricycle guy, right?"

	"Troglodyte," I corrected.  "Yes."

	"So he lives alone?"

	"Well, without a woman, anyway.  He's got a couple of college guys
that split the rent with him when he can catch them," I amplified.

	"He should have hot and cold running women, that one," Irene
announced.  "You do all right, and that Robert was pretty good -- but Rudy?
Oh. My. God!  He..."  She shook her head.  "After you left I ran out of energy
-- well, it was after I came again and he did, too, once -- and he picked me
up like I was a Barbie doll and actually STOOD UP and held me in the air while
he pumped that fire hose of his into me!  I think I blacked out a couple of
times!"  She shook her head, obviously remembering on helluva bout.  "I lost
count..."

	"I'll tell him you had a good time," I chuckled.

	"Oh, he knows..." Irene dimpled.

	As I was driving her home, I asked, "So what's up with the cleaning
company?"

	"They want a personal reference," Irene replied.  "I don't have
anything eye-catching.  Most people I know aren't sterling sources, if you
know what I mean."

	"So give them me," I told her, digging for one of my fancy new
business cards.

	Irene looked dubious.  "What would Mack say?  You work for him..."

	"In the first place," I countered, "it will mean you have rent money.
Mack will like that -- I will like that.  In the second, I don't just work for
Mack -- I own five percent of the business.  That makes me a partner and an
owner."

	"Oh..." Irene looked bemused.  "I'll try it, then."

	"Better than that, do you have the number of their HR jerk?" I
replied.  "I'll call the fuck."

	"I dunno..."

	"Okay.  Give them my name and particulars," I told her.  "If they
don't call by tomorrow afternoon, we'll know they're scratching their asses
and I'll call THEM.  Deal?"

	"Deal!" Irene grinned.

                        -----------------------

	They called at about three.  Mack and I were at the usual place, so
things were a little noisy.  "Hello?"

	"Yes, is this..." the woman managed to garble my last name.

	"It is," I rumbled, mildly offended.

	"This is Ellen Carstairs of Workplace Pros Cleaning Services.  Do you
know an Irene Harris?"

	"I do."

	"She gave your name as a reference," Ms. Carstairs said primly.

	"I'm aware," I replied.  "It was at my insistence, actually."

	"I see," Ms. Carstairs replied.  "May I inquire as to your position
at..." she read off the name of Mack's business -- OUR business, actually.

	"I'm a partner," I replied.  "I'm in charge of marketing and
profitability forecasting, among other functions."

	"You're not in your office, I presume."  Ms. Carstairs was NOT making
points.

	"I'm at a function with the president of the company.  Your interest
in that is?" I snapped.

	"Um, sorry, sir.  How do you know Ms. Harris?"

	"She's a tenant.  We hire her occasionally to clean up apartments," I
replied.

	"I see."  Carstairs obviously expected this reference to be useless --
and it was turning out to be otherwise.  "How often do you do that?"

	"As recently as last night," I replied.  "Look, Irene has an iron will
and is service-oriented.  If you hire her, she'll be running a crew in three
months -- smoothly.  She does whatever it takes to get the job done."

	"Thank you for your candor.  We'll be looking much harder at this
application based upon your statements."

	"What else does she need?" I asked.

	"Well, yours is a sterling recommendation, but..."

	"Who the fuck is that?" Mack asked.

	"HR from the cleaning company Irene applied to.  She's looking for
references," I replied.

	"Gimme the phone."  Mack snatched it.  "Who is this?  Awright, Ms.
Carstairs, I'm Pete's business partner -- and the president of the company.
You wanna know about Irene?  She's got two little kids and she's starving
herself to death so they can eat while she waits for assholes like you to
consider giving her a fucking job.  She can work rings around your ass -- but
she's black, so she's screwed at the outset.  You need to get off your ass and
hire her before she CAN'T work -- get me?"  He handed me the phone.

	Carstairs was still sputtering.  "Um, sorry about that.  My partner is
a little unvarnished in how he handles things.  But if you clean it up a
little, that's another recommendation."

	"That was nasty!" Carstairs snarled.

	"Maybe," I agreed, "but there was a lot of plain truth to it."

	"She did appear to be somewhat thin and wasted..."

	"And you thought she was on drugs, didn't you?" I pressed.  "Ask for a
drug test.  I'm pretty sure what the results will be."

	"I'll take that under advisement," Carstairs muttered.  "Thank you for
your time."

	I hung up.  "You might have fucked, her, Mack."

	"Yeah, well, maybe not.  If it looks like I did, maybe I'll give her a
break," Mack muttered.

                        -----------------------

	Irene called an hour later.  "I go in at four to fill out paperwork!"
she gushed.  "What did you tell them?"

	"I told them I'm your landlord and that you sometimes clean apartments
for me," I related.  "Then Mack got on the phone and called the HR person a
worthless twat.  She got all excited, and now you've got a job," I finished,
grinning.

	"He didn't, really, did he?" Irene asked.

	"Well, no, but he came pretty damned close -- you know Mack.  He
wasn't complimentary.  Then again, she deserved a chunk of it."

	"Well, it seems to have worked, one way or another," Irene sighed.
"Thanks -- both of you."

	"We told `em you'd own the place in six months," I chuckled.  "Don't
disappoint us!"

	"No problem!" she assured me, and hung up.

	"You're still a soft touch, Pete," Mack grunted, "but that's probably
the way to handle it."

	"Yeah, well..."

	He sat staring off into space for a bit, then said, "Keep Friday
open."

	"Cards?"

	"Charlene."

	"Oh."  I'd forgotten about the impending gang-bang.

	"I'm not real comfortable about this bunch," Mack grunted.  "And
there's Teresa.  I'm gonna want to take out insurance."

	"Okay."  God knew what he meant -- I didn't.

                        -----------------------

	I got gratitude in various forms from just about everyone for the
party -- including Edwina -- but Rudy had other fish to fry when he popped up
on IM Thursday:

	Troglodyte77:  Hey.

	Zapmaster6: Hey.

	Troglodyte77:  About Irene...

	Zapmaster6:  Yeah?

	Troglodyte77:  Did she say anything about me?

	I chuckled to myself.  Mack gave me a look.  I was on my laptop at the
bar.

	Zapmaster6:  Only that you were the hottest thing since sliced
bread...

	Troglodyte77:  Don't jerk my sh*t, Man.

	Zapmaster6:  Serious business.  She said you ought to have hot and
cold running women

	Troglodyte77:  No sh*t?"

	Zapmaster6:  Her words, not mine.

	Troglodyte77:  You didn't do her.

	Zapmaster6:  Not that night.  I know how she is, though.

	Troglodyte77:  That stuff you said about her at the party -- was that
true?

	Zapmaster6:  Yes.

	Troglodyte77:  What else do you know about her?

	Zapmaster6:  I know she just got a job.

	Troglodyte77:  So she's really not a hooker?

	Zapmaster6:  Nope.

	Troglodyte77:  Would it be stupid of me to call her?

	Zapmaster6:  Not that I know of.  She's got two little kids -- and she
works nights.

	There was a pause, then:

	Troglodyte77:  Doing what?

	Zapmaster6:  Cleaning offices.

	Another pause...

	Troglodyte77:  What would the guys think?

	Zapmaster6:  If you called her?

	Troglodyte77:  Yeah.

	Zapmaster6:  I would hope they would show some sense.  Irene is a nice
lady.

	Troglodyte77:  Well, they've all...

	Zapmaster6:  If she doesn't care and you don't care, that ought to be
the end of it.

	Troglodyte77:  Yeah.

	There followed a LOOOONG pause -- I minimized chat and went back to
work on my spreadsheet.  Then:

	Troglodyte77:  You wouldn't have her number...

	Zapmaster6:  Gimme a sec.

	I hunted down her number and keyed it in, followed by "Good luck."

	Troglodyte77:  Thanks, Man.  ttyl.

	Two hours later, Irene called me.  "Hey, Pete?  Rudy the Cave Man left
a message on my voicemail..."

	"Yeah," I agreed.  "He asked me for your number."

	"Do you know what he wants, Baby?"

	"Well, he knows you're not a hooker.  On the other hand, you made
quite an impression, so I can't say for sure his motives are TOTALLY pure.  I
mean, I saw you two..."

	"Yeah."  She giggled.  "What do you think he wants?"

	"A date."

	"Is that a date?  Or a `date'?"

	"If you're asking will he bring money - maybe for dinner," I replied.
"He's a little concerned what you will think of it all, and what the other
guys will think of it all -- that's not a `how much does she charge'
situation, in my book."

	"Yeah," Irene mused.  "It's a little messy."

	"Well, Edwina seems to be living Tuesday night down just fine..." I
opined.  Irene wasn't the only one to drop her panties that night, even if she
was the one who'd done it the most.

	"Is it the same thing?"

	"That's up to you and Rudy.  Nobody else counts."

	"Okay." Irene paused.  "Thanks, Baby."

	"Any time."

                        -----------------------

	Friday evening arrived.  Mack and I picked up Charlene and Teresa in
Mack's Caddy -- sometimes you needed to flaunt it, especially in the
neighborhood where we were going.  "Everybody keep an eye out for bullshit,"
Mack warned.  "These guys are friends of a friend of an acquaintance and I do
NOT know that they have any fucking manners."

	I wasn't thrilled.  Teresa wasn't, either.  Charlene merely shrugged.

	The place was a private home at the edge of a pretty slummy area.  We
parked in the drive and Mack hammered on the door and one of those big half-
Black, half-Puerto Rican characters with the razor-sharp beards opened the
door, grunted, and waved us in.  Dude had muscles like Mr. T.  He led us
through two or three rooms after perfunctorily patting us down.

	He was probably the least worrisome of the bunch; the other five
looked like honor graduates of a pimp academy.  A pretty dark character with a
gold tooth and one of those ball caps that look like they were made for a
soccer ball turned sideways asked, "Which one is the bitch?"

	"The older one," Mack replied.  "We're showing the young one the
ropes."

	"Cool."  There was a general rumble.  Gold tooth circled Charlene,
giving her the eye.  "Biker bitch, looks like.  You bring the shit, Mama?"

	Charlene swept her eyes over the group.  "This is it?" she asked,
mildly contemptuous.

	"It's fuckin' plenty, Bitch," Gold Tooth replied, clearly taking
offense.

	"Sure."  Charlene's voice challenged him to prove it.

	Mack flicked his eyes at me and I drifted over.  "We might need the
insurance policy.  Under the passenger seat."  Raising his voice, he asked Mr.
T, "Hey, you got a pisser around here?  My partner needs to take a leak."

	Mr. T loved it.  "Weak fuckin' bladder, there, Bro?"

	"Hey," I shrugged.  "Long drive.  Too much beer."  I was stone cold
sober.

	"Go back out front and turn right."

	"Thanks."  I left, trying to look casual.  I had the same bad feeling
about things that Mack had.  I went straight out the door, moving quickly as
soon as I was out of sight and put on the deadbolt with the door open so it
wouldn't lock behind me.  In the Caddy, I reached under the seat and fished
out Mack's insurance policy, surprised and pleased to find out it was a 9mm.
Little did Mack know that it took me back...  I closed and locked the Caddy
and stuck the gun under my belt in the back, offside a bit to the right so I
could get at it.  Then I went back in and pretended to take a leak, flushing.

	Not much had happened that I could see; Mack and Teresa were standing
off to the side, whispering -- I figured Mack was calming Teresa down.  The
Pimp Patrol had more or less moved to circle Charlene, who was still emitting
an aura of mild contempt.  Mr. T took me in and turned his back on me; I
wasn't a threat, and everybody was accounted for.

	Charlene eyed Gold Tooth.  "We all know why you wanted a white bitch.
Well you got one.  Let's get it on!"

	Gold Tooth lashed out with a slap that rocked Charlene.  "Since you
know all about it, Bitch, you shoulda seen THAT comin'!  Show some fuckin'
respect!"

	Charlene wiped her mouth, apparently unfazed.  "Show me why I should!"

	Mack stirred a bit, but didn't do anything.  Charlene flicked a glance
at him and shook her head fractionally and I got it; they wanted to break a
white woman -- and if she acted like quivering meat, they wouldn't get their
money's worth.  Charlene had guts, I'll say that for her.  She was playing the
game.  "Pay the man," she told Gold Tooth.  "Then you can teach me respect.
Maybe."

	Gold Tooth nodded at Mr. T, and Mr. T dug in his pocket for a wad and
stripped off the necessary funds, handing them to Mack.  "Cool?" he asked.

	Mack counted it.  "It'll do.  You put her out of action, though, and
it'll cost extra."  Mr. T just smiled.

	Gold Tooth eyed Charlene.  "Get outta your shit, Bitch."  Charlene
pulled her T-shirt over her head and started working on her jean shorts.  "We
was gonna bring you up slow, but since you got an attitude...  Luther, see if
you can get the bitch's attention."

	Luther had a full-face beard, one of those silly-looking hats golfers
wear -- and a considerable length of trouser snake, as it turned out.  I
wasn't in any position to measure it, but it looked like about a foot of uncut
meat over heavy balls.  "So, can you swallow that, Bitch?" Gold Tooth taunted.
"Maybe you won't talk so much..."

	"I love a challenge," Charlene replied, apparently unfazed.  She knelt
up and waved Luther forward.  "Where did you get this?  Is it a graft from a
horse?" she asked as she started jacking it.

	"It's home grown, Bitch," Luther rumbled.  "What's the matter?  Never
seen black meat?  How about I put this up your ass and ream out your throat
from the back side?"  Everybody in the Pimp Patrol chuckled.

	"I've seen plenty," Charlene replied, unflappable as usual.  "Make up
your mind -- front or back?  You're the one bringing it."

	"Suck," Luther directed.  "Let's see if you can do deep stomach."
That got another chuckle.  Charlene took in a mouthful of cock head and I
figured she was going to regret being cocky.  Luther put a hand behind her
head and started pulling.  "Don't just fucking play with it, Bitch..."

	I figured Charlene was screwed, but she ducked her head and unhinged
her jaw or something.  It was amazing -- I could SEE the lump going down her
throat!  Still, she didn't manage to get it all in, which pleased just about
all of her customers.  Luther let up so she could back off to breathe.  "Maybe
you'll get there..."  He reached down and pulled Charlene's wrist into a
hammerlock and tugged her back onto his meat.  "Okay, show me how bad you are,
Bitch."  He started forcing her onto him and backing her off, using the arm to
compel her movement.  That went, well, reasonably okay for about forty
seconds, but Luther wasn't letting Charlene back off enough to breathe
properly.  She started to struggle and turn colors.

	"You have to let her breathe once a week or so," Mack muttered.  He
flicked me a glance and I knew what he wanted -- but Mr. T decided to step up
next to Teresa, blocking me off.

	"Shut the fuck up," Gold Tooth snapped.  "Luther's teaching the bitch
manners."

	Mr. T turned to Teresa.  "So, Honey -- you a party animal, too?"

	Teresa was about to pee her pants, watching all this. "N--no.  Let her
breathe!"

	Charlene was looking a little rough; I thought she was going to pass
out.  She'd struggled some, but seemed to be running out of fight.  Mack
stirred himself.  "If I have to take her to the hospital, there'll be an
additional charge..."

	Suddenly, Gold Tooth brandished a pistol, holding it sideways, like
they do in the movies.  "Who you gonna collect from, old man?  Shut the fuck
up.  Elias, why don't you see if the other bitch can suck any better?"  Elias
was apparently not Mr. T...

	There was a whisper of sound and a voice said, "It seems to me that if
we're going to renegotiate the contract, both parties should be properly
represented."  I was somewhat surprised to recognize that voice as mine...

	Gold Tooth looked surprised -- and well he should be, since he was
looking down the bore of the 9mm.  "You ever been to war, Man?" I asked
conversationally.  "I have.  The first thing they teach you is to not wave a
gun around unless you are prepared to pull the trigger."

	"So okay, I'll shoot the old fucker," Gold Tooth blustered.

	"You do, and I'll shoot you AND Luther AND everybody else in your
little group," I replied, "Twice.  How many marksmanship medals do you have?
I qualified Expert with this particular piece eight times."  Without shifting
my eyes, I said, "Luther, if you want to keep your dick attached to your body,
you'll let the woman breathe."  Luther let go of Charlene.

	Mr.T moved.  "Don't!" I told him.  "You're a big fucker, but he's a
threat, so I'll kill your friend so I don't have to worry about him while I
shoot you in whatever body part seems most threatening."

	"Shit..." T moved again.

	"Fine."  I fired a round that missed Gold Tooth's nose by about three
millimeters.  Gold Tooth flinched to his right and Mack was on him before he
recovered.  The pistol went flying.  I centered the 9mm between Mr. T's eyes.
"Thus far, we've avoided any dead bodies, but you seem determined..."  I waved
him back with a finger until there was enough space that I could take a glance
and determine who was delivering the meaty smacks, and who was receiving.
Gold Tooth was on his back on the floor and Mack was standing up with the gun
in his hand.

	"There's gonna be an additional charge," Mack grunted.  "Definitely.
Anybody else holding?  Let's see it now..."

	There were a couple of knives, but no more guns.  I waved Mr. T over
to the rest of the group.  "How's it going, Charlene?"

	"Okay," she croaked.  "Stupid fuck," she muttered, eyeing Gold Tooth.

	"So, did you all have this planned from the get-go, or was somebody
ad-libbing?" I asked.

	"It was just SUPPOSED to be a fuck!" Elias grated.  "Sure, we was
gonna turn her every which way but loose, but Marco always has to show off his
fucking piece..."

	"It's mine now," Mack grunted.  "Although I probably don't want it.
How many people has he robbed or shot with the motherfucker?"  Elias shrugged
and shook his head.

	"As you gentlemen may have guessed," I murmured, "due to this attempt
to breach our contract, we're reluctant to return your honorarium..."

	"What the fuck?" Mr. T grunted.

	"We ain't getting our money back," Elias explained.

	"Goddamn it," Luther grunted.  "I'm gonna kick Marco's fucking ass!"

	"Boys!  Boys!" Charlene interjected.  "Maybe we can work something
out!"

	We all looked at her like she was insane -- even the Pimp Patrol.  "I
CAME for a party!" she insisted.  "And I haven't been challenged like THAT in
YEARS!" she declaimed, pointing at Luther's somewhat limp meat.  "If we can
keep things more or less to the original schedule, I would still like to
play..."

	I looked at Mack, who shrugged.  "You don't have to," he told her.
"They fucked it up.  You can walk."

	"I've been working myself up for this for a week, Mack," Charlene
replied levelly.  "Let me have my party, please."

	Mack shook his head and eyed the Pimp Patrol.  "Are we on one sheet of
music here?  No more stupid shit?  If it was me, I'd line you all up and kick
you in the balls, but the lady wants her party..."

	Elias looked around and spoke for the group.  "No, we're cool."

	"All right," Mack grunted.  "Any more hardware appears, and somebody
gets shot, get me?  Oh, and we're gonna fine your friend Marco here for his
infractions."

	"Cool."  Elias waved his hands.  Mack collected Marco's arms and
dragged him to a corner and started going through his pockets.

	Charlene turned to the others.  "I know you all had plans -- well, I
did, too.  The original rules apply -- try not to hospitalize me, but a little
rough stuff is authorized.  Luther, if you'll let me breathe occasionally, I
WILL swallow that motherfucker."

	Luther grinned.  "You be already the first to get most of it."

	"I love a challenge, Honey.  I love a challenge," Charlene replied.
"Shall we?"

	I was frankly amazed at what followed.  We put the guns away but stood
back out of reach while Charlene pulled a train the likes of which I'd never
seen in real life -- and I'm not sure I've seen in porn, despite the fact that
Blacks on Blondes is a genre.  She DID swallow Luther's dick -- and she took
it up her ass and she fucked it, too.  I watched her fill all three holes at
one time -- not once, but several times!  Many times, they slacked off in some
way and she would challenge them to further effort, "Come on, fuck me!  Bruise
my cervix!  Get in there deep!"  I'm pretty sure she loved Luther's dick in
her ass -- they did it at least twice.  I don't think her pussy was deep
enough for him, but a person has a mile of intestines or some such, so I guess
he had room to work the back door...  Everybody got three or four nuts --
except Marco, of course; we tied him up and just let him watch.  Charlene came
over and peed on him at one point.  Mack got $150 and a couple of gold chains
when he frisked him; when Marco woke up, Mack let him know that he was being
fined for fucking shit up.

	When it was over, Charlene was a mess -- but seemed satisfied with the
situation.  We wrapped her in a bedsheet and led her out.  I told Marco, "If I
see you again, I won't ask how your day is going -- I'll just shoot you --
understand?"  He understood.  Everything else was amicable.

	In the car, Teresa sat in the back with her mother's head on her lap.
"Why did you do it?" she asked.

	Charlene smiled.  "Baby, when I was your age, I did all kinds of shit
-- and I've seen quite a bit.  Every once in a while, though, I get the itch
to push the edge of the envelope -- regular sex with a guy or two just doesn't
cut it.  I needed a fix -- something to get the juices flowing again.  I was
getting bored..."  She sighed.  "Now that I've had my fill, I'll be good for a
while..."

	Mack gave her the $150 and the chains.

<1st attachment end>


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