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Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 01

By: TeresaJ



Hello all you horny fucks in Web world. 

My name is Teresa. I'm 32 years old and six months pregnant, so I'm taking a long break from being a slut to carry this baby.

I've decide I'll write about my life instead, on account of I've so enjoyed my chats with men who visit Literotica.

First, the flashcard version. I lost my cherry to my 2nd boyfriend while I was still in high school.

He was my first love and we married right after graduation because I was preggers! And scared.

And he was in love with me, which was a good thing, because we were having great sex!

We were married for 10 years monogamously. At least I was, totally faithful. I found out later that he wasn't so true. And that hurt, but hey, I got over it.

The last two years have been - long pause here, how do I - hell. Just say it. Fucking Hell!

As in, I am so going to Hell.

Basically, it's this. He outed me, as in the way some inconsiderate person might out a homosexual that was not psychologically, socially or economically prepared that it be known he's gay.

Well, I'm a slut. But I was a closet slut. We lived with my sluttiness within the confines of a monogamous marriage.

But hubby got bored, wanted to see me get fucked by other men, had that voyeur fantasy he wanted to live out, and knew that if he pressed I'd give in.

I'm not sure who my audience is. I think mostly horny old farts, dirty old men, will read this, but I see my audience as women - married women and young ladies that might be thinking they'd like to have the life of a slut. I'm not saying you shouldn't. It has its rewards. I do really enjoy a lot of what's been going on, but I was not prepared for the reaction, socially speaking.

The downside: When my dad found out he beat me black and blue and won't speak to me anymore. My mother also has shunned me. My siblings - even my sister - won't speak to me. I was cast out of church and that was my social network. Family, church. It's all gone. Without that, and in the condition I'm in now, I'm just white, trailer park trash.

More downside: This is a small town. Everybody, I mean EVERYBODY knows Randall's wife is a whore, and more shocking, he prefers her that way! The scandal! Oooooo!

More downside: I have two children of middle school age. I couldn't put them through this. They were getting into fights, all kinds of risks being posed. I sent them to live with their aunt (on my husband's side of the

family). I visit with them weekend mornings and sometimes on a weeknight, but its better they not be around much.

I miss them.

But fuck it if my old world hates me. I've had to grow some tough skin, but there's been a lot of crying. A lot of tears.

The UPside: I'm not a hypocrite anymore. What I am on the outside is what I felt I was on the inside all along.

I can dress like a slut in public now. I used to wear such tight-ass, modest, wimpy submissive wife crap.

Long loose dresses, everything covered up, ambiguous.

Now I'm all about tight short shorts, miniskirts with colored pantyhose, Victoria's Secret undergarments, revealing tops that show off my 40D bust. Slutty jewelry like the Playboy bunny 14K white gold pendant, the graduating 4-stone,

teardrop shaped, simulated pearl dangling pendant on a yellow gold chain (looks like sparkly cum drops lying between my tits), the charm bracelet with the little sterling silver cocks, the ankle bracelet with the marijuana

leaf charm, the pierced hoops on my cunny labia, pierced hoops on my nipples, the spikey dog collar with "SLUT"

embossed on the side.

So, I just feel more honest about myself this is me. A shapely, 30-something, small town, pot-smoking, beer-drinking Slut!

And I'm hot, or I was until I got knocked up again. Fuck!

My normal measurements are 5-feet, 7-inches, 175 pounds, 40-32-44. Yeah, I think I just sensed some boners rise.

I'm a big girl and I can take the big cocks and the hard, mean-pounding motherfuckers.

More upside, the big upside: I get all the fucking cock and nasty talk I fucking want. And then some.

Now you may ask, What is a clost slut? It's like this, I was raised in a very socially repressed environment.

Sex was bad, very bad! Good girls didn't do this or that. No sex before marriage, no oral sex, no anal sex.

You get the picture.

But my body was, is special. I'm not just saying that. I've had the advantage of receiving many opinions from men and women. Put it this way: some women have almost no sex drive, other women have a normal sex drive (what I call the 2 fucks a week girls). 


Baby, I gotta have it! I mean I have got to have my fat cock every day.

I learned at a young age that I was unusual in that I masturbated. Most girls would not admit to masturbating and I felt a commeraderie with the few that admitted they did. But even the ones that did masturbate only did it

occasionally. I masturbated every night in bed.

I have a large clitorus, as big as the tip of my ring finger. I ejaculate fluid excessively. Men tell me I get wetter than anyone they've been with. I have a snapper cunt. Men tell me not all women have a vaginal channel that will clamp and milk a cock. I've heard it often enough now that I take it for absolute fact that I have a slut's pussy.

Daddy, I was born for this.

But I was very repressed, inhibited. My parents kept a close eye on me, kept me on a tight curfew. Until I was 16 I wasn't allowed to have a boyfriend. My first boyfriend was clueless and I quickly lost interest in him.

I was looking for a classic bad boy, someone who had experience, who had a reputation for turning good girls into sluts. I had dark fantasies about being the student of such a man.

Then I met Randall in my junior year of high school. He had a long list of broken relationships with girls with tarnished reputations. I knew he was trouble, but when I caught his eye, I couldn't resist, didn't want to.

I was a willing student. Enough said. It was an exciting time. And I was encouraged that he always told me I responded better and was more sexual than any girl he had been with.

We married and settled into a domestic lifestyle. Neither of us did better than a high school education. He

got work as a mechanic. I worked as a waitress doing the breakfast and lunch crowds. After we had our first child, I cut back to just working lunch crowds, and I've been doing that ever since.

After three years of marriage, the sex as getting kind of boring. Sucking his cock, taking it up the ass, and pussy fucking wasn't quite enough for him anymore. I was willing to try something new, so he suggested with get

sex toys and start watching porn during sex. He also wanted me to start smoking marijuana.

By this time, I was 21, married, and these were suggestions about things we would do in the privacy of our bedroom.

I was willing.

My attitude about myself quickly changed in this environment. For example, our first "new sex" adventure went like this.

Randall put in a DVD of an gangbang. A shapely white country girl being fucked every which way by five black men with monster cocks. He lit a joint and passed it to me. We smoked. Now I'm not a totally naive person about pot. I got high a few times with him in high school, but discouraged him bringing it home.

I got stoned and horny. While we listened to the white girl getting violated, I pulled out Randall's cock. Randall is a big man. He's 6-feet, 1-inch tall, weighs 270 pounds, has size 11 shoes and, yes, a fat 10-inch cock. I love

that man's cock!

So I'm sucking down on his knob, hornier than I've felt in years, and he takes a black rubbery 14-inch dildo and starts to shove it up my wet, hot pussy. I'm pretending I'm with two men and he's talking to me like this:

"You slut! You always wanted to get a double-fuck, didn't you? Huh? Horny bitch. You're just as nasty as that white whore in the DVD! You hot cocksucking whore! Goddamm, look at that black buck fuck you. You love his big old black cock reaming your cunt? Do ya? Whore! yeah. I knew it. Suck on my cock, bitch. Suck it. Yeah, you

fucking love that shit, dontcha?"

And I'm all: "Mmmmm, mmmmm um yes baby. Oh yes. I want that black cock! Oh fuck me. Fuck my pussy, fuck my mouth!"

We had a great time. So that kind of evolved. More toys: a G Freak, a ripple plug, vibrators, the ooh-lala rabbit, vibrating beads, nipple clamps. We got more porn DVDs, mostly gangbang material.

We enjoyed him getting on top and pussy-fucking me while he worked a vibrator up my ass, mmm, talking dirty about my double-penetration.

Another thing that changed was the facials. He gave me my first facial when I was 21 and four months pregnant with our second child. Now, technically, it wasn't my first facial. I mean I'd been sucking his cock almost five years by then and there had always been leakage, Randy's cum backing up out of my mouth, dripping down my chin.

But mostly, I either swallowed it or he pulled out and jacked his shots on my tits, which he always seemed to really enjoy, or he wasn't near cumming and put his cock in my pussy or my asshole and finished off there.

But on this occasion, he pulled out, didn't tell me what he was doing, jacked his throbber in his hand and fucking shoots all over - he grabs the back of my head, fistfull of hair, snarls and sprays my hair, my forehead, I take a shot on the left eyeball, its burning, I'm blinded, warm goo running down all over.

And I'm thinking: "I just washed my hair. These are Sateen sheets and laundry day is five days off. I don't have a towel near."

I think I would've been okay with it if he had warned me, or if I knew he'd do the laundry once in awhile.

Oh well.

For the next nine years, this kind of sex continued within the confines of our happy home. But to the outside world I was a very respectable, church-going lady. A good housewife, mother. A decent woman.

But things really started going downhill about the time I hit 27. That's when he started talking serious about me trying three-ways, and more. Four-ways. It was all talk, but he was seriously pushing me for my consent.

That period from age 27 to 30 was what I call the "Period of the Great Temptation."

I knew that if I gave in to temptation, he wouldn't care. In fact, it would excite him. What held me back more than anything was the terror of social banishment. But knowing that I was being pushed into an open marriage was tough. It was on my mind wherever I went. I felt a kind of sense of impending doom, a sense that sooner or later I would slip, give in to someone, I would have my moment of weakness.

And then what?

Shortly after my 30th birthday, my world was about to turn upside down. 

During my early 20s, the social relations Randi and I had with our friends was what I'd call normal. His buddies would come by with their wives or girlfriends and visit with us, usually on a Friday or Saturday evening.

Me and the girls would separate and have our chats and he and his boys would play Texas Hold-em, or watch some DVD or play a little basketball on our dirt court.

Shortly after I turned 27, though, that changed. He became more selective about which guys came over and they stopped bringing their women. It was just him and the guys and as soon as this started the guys were paying more attention to me. 

Randy wanted me to be the center of attention. His friends were flirtier and when he wasn't watching, some would make passes at me, saying inappropriate things like, "You got such a fine pair of tits, Terry, sure would enjoy tasting that." I'd say something smart in return to put them off, or something stupid depending on whether I was prepared for the remark.

It annoyed me, these passes, but I put up with it.

Some would touch. A hand would grab ass, caress my thigh as I came to the card table to serve drinks, I'd swat one hand away after another. I'd boil inside and bite my lip.

This went on for the better part of one summer until one day one of his friends reached down to my crotch while I was at the kitchen sink washing plate and fingered my pussy and asked when was I gonna try a gangbang.

I screamed! Oh, my word. I slapped him, I shooed the bunch of them out the house and Randy, my pervert husband, could be heard outside telling them he would calm me down, but they'd have to call it a night.

He came in. We had a big fight. He confessed that he had been telling them about his fantasy to watch me fuck his friends, he had been telling them about the kind of sex we had: the dildos and vibrators he made me suck or that

he'd shove up my asshole while he rammed his 10-inch cock into my pussy, how we talked dirty about how I was loving my "double penetration" or how I "loved being a three-way slut."

I was furious.

"That, that ... you son of bitch! What goes on in our bedroom is between us! US! And no one else. It's nobody else's fucking business!"

He went on about how he felt it was time for us to go to the "next step" in our relationship, and how I should be "mature" about this and "just try it, honey."

"You shit! You fucking shit, asshole, pervert dirt-bag! DAmmit, Randy, how am I supposed to go out in public now. What you've done. This kind of talk gets around. People are going to find out."

And so it went, until I got so riled up, I left the house at 1 a.m. and spent the night with my sister.

His buddies stopped coming around much after that.

It was just Randy and me. And after about a month, I got passed it and we settled into something like a normal domestic life again. We even started have dirty sex again. Again with the dildos and vibrators and porn videos,

listening to the sounds of porn queens, their every hole being stuffed while Randy did the same to me.

And again I was "his gangbang slut." And I loved it.

But things weren't the same. Our lovemaking became less frequent. My body still craved a fuck every day, but the fucking was happening more like just once a week, if that.

Randy would occasionally ask if I'd be willing to do a three-way. He suggested various scenarios, trying to find something I'd be willing to do. I could pick the guy. I could be in control. We'd only do what I wanted. 

Bla, bla, bla.

A woman's reputation is so important. You are either seen one way or the other. Respectable and virtuous, or slutty.

And once you're a slut, or worse, "the town slut," there's no going back. Not where I come from.

I was terrified of the shame it would bring me, bring my parents, my children, the rejection I would suffer from my church friends, everybody.

So Randy's, now less frequent attempts to get me to try it just led us to fighting. And the fighting was a strain on our relationship that hadn't been there before. 

What changed me, oddly enough, was the action of a good man who happened to be one of my regular lunch customers at the diner. Billy Johnson owned a tree nursery and was a successful businessman. I'd been waiting on him for 

years, so I knew a lot about him. He was 58 and had recently gone through a terrible divorce. His ex-wife took the house, his best truck and ran off with one of his best helpers in the nursery. I made it a point to be extra

cheerful with him and encourage him to look for them silver linings. "Every clouds got one, Billy."

I knew Billy to be a decent man, and he attended church so I saw him on Sundays, too. But about the time I was 29 years old, he was feeling real lonely. One day, I went up to his table and took an order for the chicken fried steak platter with a tall glass of tea. While I wrote on my pad, Billy put his hand on my butt and squeezed.

I looked at him and cleared my throat. I looked dead serious, and said calmly, "Billy, don't do that."

He blushed, took his hand away. Said he was sorry, and explained he'd been lonely and depressed of late.

I said it was okay. We're still friends. Then he said something in a whisper that stung me to my gut.

"Your husband ought not be telling people about what goes on in your bedroom, Terry." He was staring facedown at the table when he said it, too humble to look at me. Then he turned his head away, looking out the window.

I marched straight into the women's restroom, opened a stall door, sat on a toilet and started crying. Oh, my God, I never cried so much as I did then. Here was a good man, driven to lust out of his loneliness, but also out of his knowledge (community knowledge) that my husband - My husband! - was spreading word around town

about what a hot slutty-in-bed wife he had, and did he tell them about the toys, about the gangbang fantasy sex?

Of course, he did! Why every where I go, there must be an illustrated sign over my head with a photo of my thighs parted wide and the words: "Public Parking" under my fucking ass!

Cheryl, one of the other waitresses, came in looking for me. I was getting behind on my orders. Found me crying, I wouldn't tell her what it was about. I composed myself, went back and got caught up on my orders.

I was shaking all through it. I was furious, tossing plates and cups and flatware. Ohhhhhhhh!

I took Billy his order. He tried to apologize again. I put my hand up, a clear warning: Don't say another fucking word.

When it came time to give Billy his check, I went to the dessert case, pulled out the apple pie, put the pie plate on the counter and cut a slice. I put the slice on a plate and I took out my pad and wrote a note on a 2nd ticket that was hid under Billy's bill. I went to him and said, "Billy, the pie's on the house. It's on

me, actually. For telling me what my husband .... well."

I walked away and from the counter watched Billy. He took the bill, and found the 2nd ticket. It read, "My slice of pie is your slice of pie, whenever you want it." And below that I had given him my cell phone number.

He looked up, turned to look at me. There was no smile. No reaction. He walked over to the cashier, paid his bill and left. Two hours later, my cell phone rang. 

"Hello, Billy."

"I don't know what to say, Terry, except that you're too good for Randy."

"I know," I said. There was a long pause. "So, you want my pie, Billy?"

"I'm sure yours is a heap tastier than the one I ate in the diner."

"Billy, my pie comes with everything it would be if Randy was on it. I wouldn't hold nothing back. And you could help me make it ala mode."

"I'd like that," he said. "Yes, indeed, I would."

I didn't have time that afternoon to see him. But I explained that if he wanted, I could drive over to his place, first thing in the morning after I'd seen my kids off to school. He agreed to that, and that's what I did.

And for the first time in my life, I cheated on my husband. For the first time in my life, I had sex with a man other than Randy.

I showed up at Billy's place in a loose-fitting floral print house dress, and open-toe, low-heeled leather sandals.

But underneath, I wore black fishnet stockings, black lace hi-cut panties with open crotch, and a black lace bra.

Underneath, I showed him a hot slut.

Billy was in his morning house clothes, dressed casual. His physique was that of a man who had been in the landscaping industry all his life. He was 5 feet-11 inches tall, about 190 pounds, full of gray hair, but his figure was still slim and muscular. I always did consider him handsome - and so fuckable.

I went on my knees right inside the front door, unzipped him and started sucking his cock. He was aleady hard.

"I took that Viagra," Billy said. I could see he was nervous and insecure about this and I was being too aggressive, but I figured rightly he could handle me.

I worked Billy's cock, about a 7-inch, fat poker, in my mouth, my lips tight on the foreskin, tongue flicking back and forth fast under the head, my skull bobbing forward and back, my right hand gently stroking the hard 


Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 01



warm shaft. He moaned. I stopped.

"You okay, Billy," I said as I caressed my cheek and nose with this cock. "I don't want you to cum too quick now."

He breathed deep and sighed. "Terry, you're beautiful."

He was shaking. "Maybe we better go to the bedroom."

We walked side by side, he put his arm around and lay his palm on my ass.

"I haven't been with a woman since before my wife left. She and I hadn't done it in a long while."

I asked Billy how long it had been. He said it had been seven years.

"Seven years! Oh, Billy, you got some catching up to do."

In the bedroom, he undressed out of his bathrobe, t-shirt, shorts and boxer briefs. I pulled off my dress and his eyes went wide.

"Oh dear."

I smiled. "You like what you see, Billy?"

"Ohhhhhhhhhh, yes!"

I had him lay on the bed and commenced to sucking cock. I sucked slow and backed off occasionally. I kept telling him, "Tell me when to slow down, tell me when to back off. I don't want you getting too excited. Let's make this last, hun."

He was good at listening to his body and giving instructions and for his reward he had himself a long and delicious cocksucking, complete with deep-throating, ball sucking, me using his precum for lip gloss as I slowly handled the shaft like a lip-stick dispenser, and finally, it was time.

"I'm getting on top now, Billy."

He grunted, unable to do much more at that point but stare in amazement. I straddled him and with my hand on his shaft, guided him into the promised land. His hard cock slid easily into my wet, hot, pussy.

He instantly felt my snapper cunt clench and milk his shaft before I even started gyrating my hips.

Mmmm! I rode him for a good 40 minutes before I brought him to climax. The fucking alternated, me making short quick strokes, then slower and longer, then stopping for moments to lean in and French kiss his hungry mouth.

Then working my fuck-rocking hips again, bending his cock over to tap into my G-spot. Mmmmm.

I get wet all over his groin, ejaculating my salty fuck juice down his throbbing shaft and balls.

Mid-speed, then faster, groaning, growling, letting him see me in the full-blooded heat of my lust.

"Oh God, Terry, you, you hot little sparkplug! Go baby, goooo!"

Humping on his tortured shaft, I came again and again, and my eyes ablaze, my face contorted, a she-devil building up the fire in her - to good man, the desperately lonely old man - his cock buried, deep, thrusting into my boiling fuck hole. 

And then he grunted a deep piggy grunt, gasped and expelled his semen deep into my body.



Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 02



After sex, while I lay next to Billy in his bed, he caressed my 40D tits, admiring them. He'd lean over and kiss my nipples. But I had my husband on my mind.

"What did he say, Billy?"

"What did who say?"

"My husband, what you mentioned you heard in the parking lot at the hardware store. What did Randy say?"

Billy paused. He was 58 years old and a real gentleman. We go to the same church and I believe he is sincere and basically decent. He didn't want to discuss it, but he could see it was my right to know.

"Said you been thinking about doing a three-way, with two men, for years. That you might even want to try a gangbang. He said you the hottest pussy he's ever had and he just wishes more men could enjoy your favors. He went on some about how you move and things you say in lovemaking, but my ears was getting offended. So I moved on."

"And you were standing right there next to him? He hardly knows you."

"No, Terry, I was standing back a bit. He was talking to three bubbas I figured was friends of his. But he was talking loud. He was low-class about it there."

I got myself up, wiped Billy's cum from my pussy with a towel he offered, and started getting dressed. 

"Getting time for me to head to the diner, Billy."

He stood up and walked me to the front door. We embraced and we kissed. I looked him in the eye.

"Will you be coming back by, Terry? You're always welcome here."

"I don't know, Billy. But you try and keep that ex-wife out of your head. She ain't worth all the misery you've put yourself through."

"It would be easier done if I had someone like you in my life," he said. And I couldn't help but feel a deep warmth well up inside me for him. "You're a fine woman, every-which way."

I went off to work the lunch crowd like usual, then I went home. When the kids got home, I made them a quick dinner and drove them over to my mother's house. 

I wanted to be alone with Randy this Friday evening. We needed to talk, or rather, I needed to chop his head off.

He came in around 6:30 p.m. I had dinner waiting. I was dressed in loose, baggy cotton fleece shorts, a XX-large green t-shirt, sandals. Nothing sexy.

We ate dinner polite like, then I told him: "I just had me a morning FUCK," I said with pause, "with another man."

"No shit!" he said with some genuine surprise. "How was it?"

I leaned over to slap him but he dodged. "That would be your first question? Did I like it?" "Hun, please. You know I ain't the jealous kind. I'm just thinking, it's about time. So who was it?"

"Billy Johnson, the tree nursery man."

"That old fart? Aw, baby, you can do better. Let me fix you up."

"I don't wanna talk about you 'fixin' me nothing! He said you was talking about me again, over at the parking lot of the hardware store. About how I wanted to be a whore and have everybody fuck me! Saying that shit in front of strangers, Randy!"

I swung again, this time fist closed, and I didn't miss. I had knuckles squared up on his jaw, but Randy's a huge man and he just shrugged off my best shot. I was that pissed I couldn't floor him.

"Now sweety, I see you got some steam you need to lose, but I know my wife and my wife ain't that bible-thumping hallelujah girl ever body else sees. You _ is a whore."

"Fuck you, Randy!"

I marched off to the bedroom, slammed the door and went to the bath, slammed the door, undressed and started with a cold shower. Randy was quiet the whole time. When I came out, naked and dried off, he was sitting on the bed with a tape in his hands.

"Know what I got here, baby?"

I ignored him.

"I got here proof that my wife is a whore."

"Oh right. What did you have a camera in Billy's house? And if I was with him it's cause I felt sorry for him and righteously pissed off at you."

"That all may be true," he said. "In fact, I believe you. But you was also horny. Cuz you is always horny."

I kept silent. He was right.

"You remember four years back, you went into Houston for that churchy convention?"

I turned to look at him. He was waving the tape in his hand. My heart went cold and my stomach started doing a slow turn, like a dryer machine barrel starting a new cycle.

"You came back with the sexy outfit you shopped for at the mall. I made fun about how you were hanging with the holy rollers at night and mall slummin' in the day to dress like a slut for me. You didn't tell me you tried that outfit on, before you came to show it to me."

"How did you get that?" I asked, my voice less confident, my heart racing.

"Henry Martin. You remember him from high school?"

"No."

"Well, baby. He remembers you. And he knows a side of you I didn't know nothin' about."

"I never fucked no Henry Martin!"

"I didn't say you did. But see Henry used to work security guard after high school. He hated the job, but he learned himself a trade. He installs closed circuit TV systems and ID card readers. He got a call to replace a surveillance system at this here adult book store in south Houston a few years back. He got to talking with the store manager and they got friendly. The store manager shared with him some tape of girls that go into the back room."

I stood silent, shaking inside, my heart was pounding so loud I felt like my eardrums would burst.

"Oh God."

"Oh, I don't know about him, baby. But I think we should see this together."

"Donnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn't!"

He put the tape in the old VCR. A grainy black and white started running. And there I was coming out of shadows up to a stall, built like a bathroom stall. I stepped into a booth where the side partitions had big holes cut in the centers. 

I was wearing a pair of tight white bikini shorts and a wide studded black belt. I had on white high-heel pumps, and a fake silk white blouse that was unbuttoned. The blouse was held in place by a knot I had tied just above my belly button. 

I had on a red lace push-up bra. I sat on the seat and waited. I hellish-long minute passed. 

Then there's noise. Someone enters the next booth. I remembered that night often. After buying the outfit, I had the urge to try it on. I had played out this fantasy of being a slutty whore with Randy in our bedroom a million times. 

I was just curious!

I wanted to walk around in front of stranger men and have them gawk at me. I wanted to feel their lusting eyes devouring me.

I was in the big city. Nobody would know me. I was far from home and freed from my inhibitions. Just this once, I told myself. I wanted to live like a whore for one night. I put the outfit on. 

There was an adult book store I had seen by the interstate. I drove there. It was late. I knew horny men would congregate there.

I didn't know about the glory hole booths. All I had in mind was to strut around in the parking lot.

I got there, sat in the car for awhile getting the nerve to step out. When I stepped out, I was shaking like a wet kitten. I walked across the parking lot once, then again, and again.

I did that over and over. A car passed slowly and a black man watched me. I took a deep breath. I felt his lust from afar and knew he thought I was a whore.

He pulled into the lot, parked, got out. All the time watching me. We said hellos.

"Mmm, mm. You sure is one fine fly honey, girl. You gots ALL the curves, not like some of these skinny crack bitches. So, how much for me to feel them luscious lips slip-sliding up n down daddy's black python?"

I made excuses. I was waiting on someone. He didn't buy it. I was needing a break. That sounded stupid and he laughed. He invited me to give him a blowjob in his car. I complained it was too public. 

He offered to take me somewhere. I said I didn't trust him, maybe he was the kind that liked to hurt girls.

"Mmm. You a careful whore. I can see you take care of yourself. That's good. Well, how about we go inside the store then. You can have all the security you want in there. They got cameras and staff, they don't put up with no shit in there. Let's just have a walk around inside now."

I was confused. It was a book store. How were we going to have sex there? I didn't tell Randy any of that.

But the black cock he was watching me suck belonged to a man I met in the parking lot, a black man who had offered me $40 once we were inside the store, just to go through the back door, down the hall, "and sit in the 2nd stall, baby, I'll be right wit choo."

What I did say to Randy was this: "It was just a cocksuck, Randy. I didn't even know who it was. It didn't even feel like cheating. I ... (gulping) I ... 

I had to pause because watching myself on the tape it was obvious I was really enjoying sucking that black cock. I had my right hand between my legs, fingering my pussy. My left hand on the shaft, gently and confidently stroking it. The hole was large enough that I could lift the cock occassionally and lick and suck his black balls, which I did with obvious lustful hunger.

"Randy, it was just this disembodied penis. I didn't know who it was. I didn't know I was even going to be in a glory hole. I just wanted to walk around in the store and have men watch me. I ..."

I started talking dirty on the tape. Telling him I was a dirty whore. 

He talked back: "Yeah, you dirty white Ho, fucking cum slut, lick yo daddy's fine black prick, bitch."

"Mmmm, yesssss," I answered. 

I used my hand to shake his cock, slap it on my tongue and chin, then I squeezed off that black head and pulled a string of precum up, moving my head away until the string broke. I did it again and again, then I opened my mouth and sucked him some more.

I looked over at Randy, he was stroking a boner, watching me do another man.

"Randy, how long have you had this tape?"

"Six weeks."

"Six weeks!" I was surprised that he had kept it secret that long.

"I thought I could read you better than that," I said. "Guess you can keep a thing secret when you want to."

"Baby, you ain't the only one round here that can walk and talk with two faces."

The me that was on tape was ecstatic, calling herself a white trash whore that loved to fuck black men. How she bragged about what a good cocksucker she was. And her black man of the moment praised her cocksucking abilities in loud and joyous voice. It was a devilish duet of black on white lust.

By the time I had got that black stud to shoot his load into my mouth, and we watched his semen leak down my slutty chin, me and Randy was both horny as the ragin' bull.

I tored his clothes off, frighteningly desperate to show him I wanted his body way more than I did that black man's. He recalled to me how horny I was the night I came back from Houston and accused me of thinking of that black man while we had sex that night. I denied it. But it was true. I thought of the other for weeks after, keeping his cock in my mind while I closed my eyes and sucked Randy.

We argued through our fucking, but we fucked through the angry words and turned them into words between a horny whore and her pimp.

We fucked hard. And when we were spent, he asked me:

"Now, baby. I have to ask you and I want an honest answer. In your heart of hearts, are you this 'Straight-laced, church mom,' or is you a fucking whore?"

I was laying naked next to my husband, stinking and wet from sex. But I knew he wasn't talking about what I was in this room. He wanted me to say once and for all this is what I was outside this room. I took a deep breath and watched my sweaty big tits rise.

"I'm a whore. I'm a whore, Randy. There, you feel better?"

"Honey, that ain't the point. The point is do YOU feel better, now that you being honest to yourself?"

I reflected and said, "Yeah. I guess I do a little bit."

"I ain't gonna say it don't bother me, what you did in Houston. But if bothers me that you could sneak off and be with another man, cheat on me twice and ... "

"Baby, that thing in Houston wasn't cheatin. I didn't even know that man, it was just this cock."

"Oh, just this cock, huh. So tell me, when you wandered lost like you said and found yourself in the back room of that store and you saw those stalls and you stepped in and you saw them holes in the side panels, did you know where you were then?"

"Yes."

"Did you know what was gonna happen next?"

"Yes."

"And yet you stayed and you did that nasty thing. Is that something your church friends would approve of?"

"No."

"Don't tell me that wasn't cheatin, you fucking hypocrite. And all this time I been begging you to try a threesome, with me and one my friends, someone you would'have known from childhood. Sex amongst you, me and someone we have had over to our house a hundred times. That! You couldn't do that for me all these years?"

There was a real long silence. Minutes passed. 

He didn't move and neither did I. He was waiting me out and I couldn't take the tension anymore.

"You're right Randy. I went about handling my sexual desires in the wrong way. From now on, I'll fuck whoever you want to fuck."

"Serious, baby?"

I was calm now. Sure that it was time we took this step.

"I'm sure, baby."

My birthday was two weeks away. I was going to be 30. Randy was going to see to it that this was my "turning out party."



Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 03



The Saturday morning after I agreed to do threesomes with Randy we discussed over breakfast who would be the first man to join him.

I was in a cropped bathrobe that barely covered my broad white ass, panties and bra. Randy was in briefs.

I had cooked us up eggs over easy with some ranch hot sauce, grilled potatoes and toast with coffee.

"How about Rudy?" Randy asked.

I gave him a look like are you crazy? "Uh-Uh!"

"Why not? You like him."

"Randy, that Rudy is in love with me, he has been since childhood."

"Ha, ha. You think he still carrying that torch? I say, he's moved on. Hell, he's got a fiance, that should say something. But I'll bet he'd sneak off without a second thought to have a taste of what he's been longing for."

"Not Rudy. He a sensitive soul. This kind of action ain't for him. You would know that if you asked him alone.

It ain't the same talking trash bout your wife in a group."

My other objection to having Ruday fuck me was more sentimental. When he was 7 years old I used to babysit him. 

I was 15 at the time and his parents paid me $40 on Saturday nights - they went out twice a month, so it was nice mad money for me. Rudy was a sweet, well-behaved boy, but I must say at 15 I was drop-dead gorgeous and even a child that young would take notice.

He never gave me trouble, but lordy, he was puppy-love mad over me. I treasure that memory. It was so sweet.

And the thought of acting like a slut with Rudy now just made me sick. I felt it would spoil that memory.

I paused and looked up from my plate, gave Randy an inquisitive stare: "Did you already ask him?"

"Naw, baby. I ain't asked nobody yet .... say, how about Manny?"

Manny was an Italian-Irish man's man. He was 6 feet-2 inches, heavy-set, played on the defensive line with Randy in high school football. 

He was a manwhore. He fucked tail all over three counties and it was a fact he could smooth talk his way into a nun's panties. He had no shame. I was intrigued to the point of instant wetness, my

pussy quivered at the thought of being abused by him. Manny was one of Randy's occassional friends these days.

They used to play Texas Hold-em here years back, but Manny stopped coming round after I angrily cut short Randy's earlier attempt to get me to swing. I looked out the dining room window at the broad sweep of crawfish mud cones in what passed for our backyard.

"Okay. Ask Manny."

Randy smiled, leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek with, "You're a sport, baby!"

We finished up our breakfast and I gave Randy an extra tight hug when we stood up. 

"Baby, I wanna fuck again," I told him. "This talk of my imminent descent into darkness has me damn horny."

I threw off my bathrobe by the bed and went right at his cock. Holding my man's 10-inch fat club in a bat grip with both hands and sucking and licking that uncircumcised head. 

"Oh," Randy moaned, "mmm baby, that's nice. Now get out Superman."

I reached under the bed and pulled out a toy Randy had made for me. I was the torso and thigh portion of a male mannequin and on the chest was a Superman t-shirt. between the legs was a 13-inch silicon cock and he had attached hardware to. It could screw on just above the groin at an headward angle of about 15 degrees from

verticle.

I straddled Superman, lowered my wet, throbbing pussy onto that massive cock and resumed sucking Randy's wet, warm, luscious cock.

"Nnnnn," I moaned, his cock back in my suck-popping mouth, the big red one quickly deep into my greedy innards.

"Nnnnnnnn umm!"

"You dirty whore. You dirty fucking whore. You gonna love how Manny treats you. He's soooo nasty. Make you wanna fuck all night. You dirty cock-grabbing, snapper cunt whore. Yeah, that's it. Move your fucking body like the horny slut you are, baby. You know you love it. Don't you. Uh huh."

I could just moan in agreement. I was getting Superman and my ass and thighs so wet. It was a good thing the children were at mom's, because this slut was howling in the late morning.

"Damn, bitch. You cumming already? You fucking hot whore. I love my hot whore."

I got up on the bed sideways at Randy's urging and spread my wet thighs, fingering my clit, just diddlin' away like a rock star on a guitar string. He pulled out a humungous blutt plug and shoved it up my ass, and I was groaning out the "Oh, fucks."

Then he handed me the natural shaped brown dildo. "Here, suck on this, whore while I put my badass cock in your snapper."

He went deep and pounded me, making my flesh jiggle, the butt plug stretching me, adding to my lusting anxiety. I sucked hard and passionately on the head of the dildo, all the while imagining that Manny would be better.

"Mmmmmm, oh. Nnnnnn. Ohhh, daddy. You gonna let Manny do any nasty thing he wants to me?"

"Yeah, baby mama. He gonna treat you like a dirty, stinking Mexican street whore in Boystown."

"Oh yess, daddy. I wanna get it nasty from Manny. Mmmmmmm, uhhhhh. Ohhhhhhh yess!"

He pumped harder and faster. He lasted good and long and I came a few more times before Randy was ready to unleash his load. He had held my ankles up the whole time he was standing by the bed, torturing my hot hole. 

Then he gave out his bear growl and shot semen into me, all of it up my sloppy wet pussy.

* * *

The next morning was Sunday. I had retrieved my children from mother and we was dressed up in our church clothes. Service for me was melancholy. 

I just couldn't see me being with congregation much longer. It might take a few months, but in a town this small word would get around soon that Teresa had fallen and become a devil's child, a filthy plaything for whoremongers.

I saw Billy Johnson in service and after we were dismissed I met up with him in the parking lot. 

"Hello, Billy."

He smiled a kind smile and looked at my long ivory satin dress.

"You look your modest self again, Terry. I can't say I prefer this to how you adorned yourself for me during our ...," he looked around to see who might be near and made no attempt to finish his thought out loud.

"I want to see you tomorrow morning, Billy. May I come by your house again?"

He raised eyebrows, surprised I'd be still interested in a 58-year-old man, but he should have more confidence in himself. He is a gentle and sweet lover and his body is still slim and taut.

"You're always welcome in my bed, Terry. Thank you for offering. I'll await your arrival."

We shook hands on it and parted. I gathered the children and went home.



Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 04



Monday morning I pampered myself after I'd seen Randy off to work and took the kids to my sister's for the day.

Randy had sex with me the previous night. He was hornier than usual, in anticipation of the three-way he had planned for me later in the week.

Although a day hadn't been set; he hadn't even talked to Manny yet.

I wasn't feeling quite as horny as he when he started, but he got me in the mood. It was a respectable fuck, just enough action to get my 'O' and then he was out and I slept dirty, sticky and content.

Thinking about Billy, I took a hot shower, shampooed and painted my finger and toe nails green. I put on green eyeshadow. I had a pair of pastel green hi-cut briefs and dark green nylon hose that came to mid-thigh. 

I looked at my thick thighs. Looked at myself in the mirror, pushed up my tits and made kissy faces. I had been wearing a short cut bob last year, but was letting my brown hair grow. 

It was wavy, full-bodied and a couple inches south of my shoulders now. 

I went to the drawer and pulled out a lace aqua green comfort bra. I wasn't happy with the greens, they didn't match and the bra was old and fraying at the edges. But what the hell, my body looked so fine and anyway: I was trailer trash! A man would have certain expectations.

I put on an coral tiered dress. It was a faux silk of nylon and polyester with shoulder straps the showed off my shoulders and a V-cut that barely showed the top of my chest cleavage. I put on a fake pearl necklace, smokey purple pearls, wiggled into my green vinyl pumps and got out of that ratty trailer.

Made it to Billy's house by 9:45 a.m. He greeted me at the door with a smile and took my hand and kissed it. He was such a gentleman! I knew why I was there. 

Randy never treated me like a lady. From day one - but being a teenager when we met and eager to start my lessons from the boy the rep as a slutmaker, what did I expect? - Randy had

always treated me like I was a dirty slut. 

In bed, in the kitchen, in front of his friends.

Now that I was about to let him turn me out, I just wanted to know what it was like to be with someone who had this whole different idea of relations between the sexes. 

Holding me hand as we walked into the living room, Billy said, "I've been thinking of you ever since your last visit.

Well, even long before that. But especially since we ... "

I embraced him and we kissed passionately. I wanted him. He was melting my heart. We broke kiss, stared at each other and smiled. I walked with him some more and he offered me a seat in his breakfast nook.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked. We sat next to each other and I nodded a 'no.' I ran my hands through his gray hair and admired the weathered face of a man who had spent his life outdoors nurturing trees. 

I leaned in and kissed him again. 

Then with my face by his ear, I said, "I'm just here to make love to a sweet, sweet man. You make me feel like a good person, Billy."

"You are a good person, Terry."

I felt myself stiffen at that statement. 

"I wish sometimes I were, Billy, but I'm not. I'm a ... so-so person. Sometimes, I'm a bad person."

"Well, maybe I can help you with that," he said.

We sat and look out into his back yard and I admired the tall trees and all the birds and I asked him the names of the trees. As we talked, my hand explored his lap and I aroused his cock. In a moment he groaned and I looked at him and knelt to the floor. I unzipped his pants and scooped the semi-hardon out. 

"Did you take your Viagra this morning, Billy?"

"No, Terry. I don't think I'm going to need it with you."

I smiled and sucked his cock, watching the appreciation in his eyes and he silently, with bittersweet expression, watched me work his member. I closed my eyes and felt his hand so gently caress my hair it made me want to cry.

I slowly stroked his cock in and out of my wet, warm mouth, and softly thumbed his testicles. Cupping the jewels in my hand and lightly scratching the backs of his balls, and stopped my bobbing suck and held his cockhead in

my mouth, tongue swaying left and right under the head, my teeth gripping his manhood.

My other hand massaged his hairy thigh and I enjoyed the continuing caress of his hand through my brown hair. There was no dirty talk from him, no grabbing my hair, no skull-fucking, no thought of it. He held me like a man in love,

I felt his love for me. I felt an anger build up in me from the knowing that I never felt Randy act this way. But that subsided.

I wondered, was I trained to be a slut before I had a chance to know true love? 

Was it right that I let Randy involve me in three-ways, and in the gangbangs I knew would follow? But I felt my fate sealed, for my own lust and fascination with such sex seemed all-consuming. 

No, I would sneak away to Billy when I wanted this. This other special thing.

WHen Billy was good and hard, I lifted my head and gently jacked his cock with my hand. "I want you now, Billy. Put it in me."

We went to the living room sofa. I didn't want to wait to get to his bedroom. I had him sit slouched on the leather seats and I straddled him. He gladly succumbed to the weight of me and admired my 175-pound, 5-foot-7-inch frame.

I had stripped in front of the sofa, leaving on only my nylon leggings and pearl necklace. 

I tucked his cock into my wet pussy and slowly rocked my hips into him. We looked at each other and he took my 40-D white tits into the

palms of his hands, holding them firmly.

"You like my tits, Billy?"

"I love your breasts, Terry. I love all of you. You're a beautiful, shapely, incredible woman."

"Suck my nipple."

I leaned in and kept a slow stroke in rhythm and he sucked at my big right nipple, the diameter of it was wide as a beer can.

I held his cock in my snapper, squeezing it only occassionally. I didn't want him to cum. 

I kept telling him, "Talk to me, Billy. Tell me if I need to go faster. Do you need me to squeeze it more?"

He got the idea. At 58, he was going to need me to respond correctly and swiftly to his commands. We found we 

communicated well at this. Finally, he said he couldn't hold it anymore. I debated stopping to let his urge

subside, but we had been at it almost 30 minutes. 

I didn't think I should push him anymore. So I sped up and told him, "It's okay, Billy. Cum. Cum inside me. I want your cum in me."

* * * 

When Randy got home Monday night, he told me Manny had agreed to the threesome. I tensed. At his prodding - he

was eager to talk about it - I said I was eager to do it. I pretended it would be fine, but he could see I was

nervous. He stroked my big bottom and tried to assure me, "It'll be alright, Terry. You'll see. You're gonna

love it."

That's what I was afraid of. That I was going to love it - too much. My anxiety grew all through the night.

I couldn't sleep. I woke up weary and my anxiety kept turning in my abdomen like bad food. 

Through the next day I was so antsy, just fighting off waves of anxiety. I was horny and sick and tense, like all my wires were being pulled out and getting all jumbled. 

What was happening to me?

I went to the sex toy box like a heroin addict screaming for a fix and spent the morning fucking my pussy viciously with a 12-inch dildo. I wanted it to hurt. I came. And I kept going. I came again. I just would't stop and

I was beyond exhaustion. Hours passed and it came time to go to work.

I took a cold shower, dressed in bluejeans and a blouse for my shift at the diner. When I got to the car, my thighs were shaking. I couldn't open the car door. I looked back at the trailer. I turned, went back inside,

took my pants off, got my Rocket Pocket and snipped a hold in the bottom of the left pocket of my jeans.

I took off my panties and left them on the floor. I put my jeans on and shoved that little vibrator up my pussy, zipped up and went to work. I worked a three-hour shift with tissue stuffed around my crotch to hide the fuck

juice from my customers. I had to go to the restroom four times to change tissue. I kept asking myself, why

am I doing this? This is crazy.

I knew. I knew it was the tension of anticipation, of the impending transformation. I knew I was terrified of Randy turning me into a whore.

When we turned in that Tuesday night for bed, I wouldn't let him touch me. I didn't want sex. Not with him. Not with Manny. I wanted Billy. I felt like he was my salvation and it was slipping away. I was falling into a 

deep, filthy underworld from which I would never return.

Over the next few days, I couldn't get our scheduled Saturday threesome off my mind. I was tense, irritable. On Friday evening when Randy got come from work, I called it off. I told him

I just couldn't go through with it. He tried to talk me down, calm me down. I wouldn't be reasoned with. I was so upset.

It turned into a big fight and he nearly gave up. He called Manny and said it didn't look like it was happening.

The fighting continued off and on into the next day. But he finally broke me down. 

He threatened to leave me and take the kids, and that scared me worse than the threesome. 

It helped that he was ate my pussy as reward for my renewed cooperation. The shit.

But I had some conditions. I just didn't want it getting around that I was doing that.

Could he please be more discreet than he had been in the past, I begged. 

And I wanted my first time with Manny to be alone. He was pissed at that but I wouldn't budge.

He agreed to that, "Anything you want to get you started, baby."

So, finally, the Saturday came that I was supposed to be Manny.

That Saturday morning I took my daughter to her grandma after breakfast, came home to a quiet

and lonely trailer. I spent hours in the master bathroom assessing myself. It occurred to me that for

a guy like Manny who had killer looks and a big reputation for seducing beautiful women, that I might

not be much of a catch. I felt like for him this was some kind of favor fuck for his old buddy.

I didn't think I wanted to be treated like an "I'm doing my buddy a favor fuck by nailing his

fat old lady!"

I excercised for over an hour, toning up my curves. I sweated, oh my. I worked out until I was

so shaky I couldn't stand up anymore.

I looked in the full-length mirror at my naked self, talking to myself:

"Okay, Terry. You're 30 years old. 5 feet, 7 inches tall, a big girl with big jugs."

Pushing up my tits, I made a lewd face and said, "40-D tatas, Manny. Mmmmmmm, you want a hot

nasty titty-fuck?"

I got back on the weight scale: "173 pounds today. That's a couple pounds below the usual."

I had a 40-32-44 figure, some stretch marks on my tummy that weren't all that noticeable, but

the cellulose on the back of my thigh was just annoying me to the ends of my frazzled ego.

"Fuck it," I said. "I am what I am."

I cooked some lasagna for Manny and tossed a salad, hoped he like salad. I got dressed in the

white bikini short and wide leather belt outfit with the small white vest and red lacy bra that I had

first put on in Houston when I went whoring on a lark, the one Randy had caught on video.

I anticipated correctly that Randy had told Manny about that and he would be looking forward

to seeing me dressed that way.

When he pulled up to the trailer about 8 p.m., I was ready to explode. It had been a long day

of anticipation, actually weeks of anticipation.

I couldn't wait for him to get to the front door. I walked out on the deck and hugged him

like a long lost lover. I was suddenly stunned at my own behavior. The neighbors might be watching!

What would I - oh fuck it.

"That's not quite the welcome I expected," Manny said, surprised at my bravado. He knew I had

been very hesitant about doing this.

"Well, Manny, I agreed to it and now that I'm agreed to it, I'm determined to enjoy this for

all I can get out of it."

"Mmmm, me too, Terry."

I kissed him on the deck, took his hand and led him in the house.

Just inside the door I turned and hugged Manny again. I pushed my belly into him and felt him

grow at my abdomen as we wrestled tongues. He grabbed my ass greedily. He was such a hunk!

"Mmmm," I broke kiss smiling. 

"Something smells good," he said.

"Thank you!"

"MMMmmm, well you do too, Terry, but I meant something else smells good."

"Duh! Oh yessss! Manny, I made us some lasagna. I was hoping you'd be hungry for something

beside pussy, um, I'm mean, in addition to MY pussy. Ha, ha, ha."

We ate at the dinner table. Playfully touching each other as we had our meal with a cheap red

wine. We sat at a corner and stared at each other. He gave me compliments, a lot of compliments!

Manny knew how to make a woman feel hot. I kept reachin under and stroking his hardon.

After dinner, I went to my underwear drawer and pulled out a baggie. I had already rolled a 

couple marijuana cigarettes there and took them out. I lit one with him on the bed.

We smoked and stroked each other's bodies. I slowly undressed him. I started to undress me

but he asked me not too, yet.

"I'm enjoying that outfit, Terry."

"You like it?"

"Oh yeah, looks so slutty, but hot."

He sat on the edge of the bed. I got on my knees on the floor and held his cock in my hand. 

I rubbed the cockhead on my chin, cheeks, nose and lips. My tongue lazily darted out like a curious

fat worm and licked the pisshole, then made slow circles around the head and down the shaft my 

tongue made a saliva trail all the way to Manny's balls.

I laughed and, feeling the smoker's stone, said, "I am sooooooooooooo horny."

I straightened my back, held his cock away from me, looked at him and thought to myself, "This

is it. I'm diving into a life of total depravity. First Manny, then who knows who's next. Randy will

just keep bringing them over. I'm gonna be this town's nastiest slut!"

I smiled at him and took his cock into my mouth. He started talking about my outfit, what

Randy said I did in it in Houston a few years back. Asked me if it was true.

I took his wet, throbbing cock out of my mouth and said that it was true, but that I had only

done it that one time on an impulse.

I sucked down on his cock. He was as big as Randy, about 10 inches, but his cock wasn't quite

as fat. Still, an incredibly wonderful cock.

"Mmmmm, that's some good work you do, Terry. I see you like stuffing your face with cock."

He grabbed the back of my head and held me in place. I was about six inches down on him, about

as far as I could go without gagging. He pinched my nose with his other hand and held my head still

and flexed his cock, it pulsed in my mouth. I turned red from lack of oxygen. 

Then he let me go and I sucked in air through my nostrils. I felt a slight humiliation. 

Manny had done something to me Randy had never done.

"Now suck my balls, baby," Manny said.

I felt like he was talking to me that way he would talk to all of those big city sluts I knew

he picked up at bars. I sucked his balls, holding his cock up with one hand and reaching down to finger

my swollen clit with my other hand.

Manny grabbed his own cock and our fingers intertwined and we jacked his cock together as

my mind went to mush, just me in a zone where it was all about my lips and tongue on his fine balls,

our hands together on that lovely pussy poker and my fingers friggin hell out of my pussy.

By now it was dark outside. And to my surprise, Manny wanted to take me outside. He told me

to strip in the dining room. He dragged me - I didn't want to go - out the back porch and leaned me

over the rail and took me from behind. Me, naked, with another man, on my backporch, taking his

awesome cock strokes up my wet cock-craving pussy.

I moaned with pleasure. He spanked me hard and I yelled. I covered my mouth in shock. The

neighbors, I thought.

Sure enough. A window opened across the backyard and Mr. Robles peered out into the darkness.

I had the back light turned off and I hoped he couldn't see us, but I couldn't be sure.

"Ohhhhhhhhh," I moaned as quietly as I could.

Manny's strokes were alternately slow, to mid-speed, to jackhammer fast and mean, then back

again. He kept making me cum! He held my hips with sure hands. He's slip a hand up and hold one big

tit and squeeze nipple while his other hand held onto my ass or slid forward and tortured my clit,

and all the while that steady prodding cock finding every crevice inside my sloppy, horny pussy.

What a wonderful ache that was! My juices flowed and flowed, they trickled down my inner

thighs and trickled to my feet, the wood of the turned wet at around the balls of my feet; I couldn't

keep the heels of my feet down, he was pounding me with such extension.

When he came, he came inside me with both of his hands compressing my tortured tits. It felt

incredibly wicked to have this man, a known whoremonger, fuck me like this on my back porch where

neighbors might see everything.

After his panting stopped, I, in a state of slutty ecstasy, turned and knelt again and lapped

at his wet throbbing hard cock, sucking it in my mouth as the stiffness slowly melted away.

We went back inside, and into the bathroom we showered together. I asked him if he had enjoyed

me and his response was enthusiastic and positive. Yes, he had. We kissed passionately in a lover's

embrace.

An hour later, we smoked the second joint while watching porn on DVD. We got horny quick, made

out on the sofa and this time I got on top and rode Manny until we both came.

Then we went to bed. I was comforted that he stayed to sleep with me the whole night. I had

not had a man in my bed in eight days!

Sunday morning, he woke with a hardon and asked me if I took it up the ass. I said I did. And

we did it up my asshole but not there in bed. I took him to the kitchen, sucked his cock in front of 

the sink and then handed him a little jar of petroleum jelly. I put myself on all fours on the floor

in front of the kitchen sink. He worked jell into my anus with his fingers, then pressed his cockhead

in and inched his way up my poopshoot.

"Why did you wanna fuck here, Terry?"

"Cuz, assfucking reminds me of plumbing."

I rubbed my clit furiously as he filled my asshole with his steady, ass-stretching, deep

shithole fucking. I came first. He pounded me merciless and I just kept taking it, waiting for him

to cum. When he was ready, he told me, "I'm cumming."

I yanked his hand off my hip, scooted forward, causing him to slip out and felt air go up

my gaping asshole. I sat to one side, my head tapping against the sink cabinet, and I grabbed his

cock and jacked it. He shot his load on my face because I was aiming it there.

"Oooooo. You dirty girl! Oh, fuck, you fucking nasty ass slut! Damn!"

I looked up at him, my inhibitions and fears stripped away, and said, "I just want your friends

to know what a nasty slut they're dealing with when they come around here. You think you can explain

that to them, Manny?"

He smiled and then he laughed. 



Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 05



Randy came home late in the afternoon, long after Manny left. He was all eager to hear about the details, but I didn't wanna talk about it. That upset him.

I wasn''t being coy or nothing, I just felt uncomfortable telling my husband about how I enjoyed having that Manny slut-fuck me all over the house. Randy kept needlin' me about it so I let out a few incidents like what went on in the bedroom and the ass-fuckin' I took by the kitchen sink.

Randy had fucked me in those same ways often and I figured that would satisfy his curiosity. He asked if there was more and I got irritated. 

"Yeah Randy! There was more. Shit on a stick! Hell, we fucked all over the house. I sucked him and fucked him and I loved it. He was fantastic and I wanna fuck him again. He made me feel like a hot horny cum-lovin' slut and I lovvvvDUH! swallowin' his sweet jizz, juusta lettin' his little slimy critters swim down my cum-hungry throat. Okay! 

"Is that enuf for ya? Now if you don't mind, I don't wanna dwell on it anymore just now."

I was determined not to tell him about the incident on the back porch. I knew that violated Randy's instructions. I was to have sex only inside the house. Anyway, I didn't wanna do it out on the back steps, that was Manny prodding me n pulling me out there. 

I was embarrassed that old Mr. Robles had probably been peeking at us from his bathroom window and dreaded a meeting with him.

That didn't take long. The following day, around 4 pm, a Monday, I was walking to the mailbox island with my daughter. I was dressed simple, big baggy denim shorts and a XX-large yellow t-shirt. There was a ice cream truck working the neighborhood and my daughter was pesterin' for a Creamsicle. I kept tellin' her to wait. She persisted like 10-year-old girls will.

Mr. Robles come walking up at an angle to my off my left, also on his way to the mailbox it appeared. I had a sinkin' feelin in my gut. Shit, I thought. Here it comes.

He was in some old stained green plaid shorts and a blue guayabera shirt the didn't cover his big ole' beer gut very well at all. He looked ridiculous. The man was in his early 50s, a tile-cutter and installer by trade.

We got to the mailbox island about the same time and said our 'Hellos.' I was turning the key to my box and him just standin' there, he says: "Funny, Miss Teresa but my eyes I think the other night they play tricks on me. I see strange things. Very indecent things. You maybe know what I see?"

Well, mama instincts went into full alert. I took my baby aside, opened my purse. "Honey, here's two bills, now why don't you run over to that ice cream truck n get somethin for you and your brother?"

She was hoppin' up and down as happys as innocence pleases and asked me if I didn't want somethin too. How sweet, always thinkin' of her mama! I said "No, none for me baby, now you just run along."

Soon as she was out of hearing, I turned and stepped up to Mr. Robles and said, "Now see here, what went on on my back porch Saturday was none of yor beeswax, you horny old bean-farter. What were you doin' lookin into my backyard anyhow!"

I was hopin' if I took the offensive, he'd back off. Didn't work.

"You back yard, Miss, is public view to me. And more than that, the man for who you act like puta, he was no your husband. I have good eyes Miss Teresa." He smiled like he had something on me and my red face just got redder. "Maybe I should tell Randy his purisima Teresa, the faithful church-going woman, she is a most unfaithful little puta? Maybe he want know you like other man's cock eh-screwing you mouth, eh?"

He was leering, smilin' lookin' at my tits after he'd looked me dead in the eye and called me a whore in spanish, twice. His right hand was caressing his hard cock in his shorts and I couldn't resist. I kneed the old fart in the nads.

"You fuckin' asshole. Go on and tell my husband what you please. I don't give a damn. You will talk to me with a little more respect and don't ever bring up this kind of conversation when my daughter is present!"

I stuffed my mail in my tote bag and marched off toward the ice cream truck.

Back home with the children, I tried to get some satisfaction from the sight of Robles doubled over, hands on knees in pain. It gave me a grin, but mostly I felt the tension of knowing it wouldn't end there. Kneeing a man in the nads ain't usually a good idea.

I was stressed enough as things were. Randy and I had been bickering for some weeks now. He didn't sleep with me. We might have sex, but once the fuckin' was done, I'd get agitated and push him out of bed. He'd go off in a huff to the sofa and once he just left the house all night, wouldn't tell me later where he was and that just made it worse.

When Randy got home he was quiet and distant. He had been getting that way. This exercise of me fucking Manny wasn't what he had expected. I felt compelled to break the ice, so after I made him dinner and got the dishes washed I sat with him while he watched TV.

I changed first. Took a quick shower and slipped into a long all cotton print house dress and no panties or bra under it. I sat on the sofa and lay a hand on his thigh. 

"How you feelin' Randy?" I asked softly.

He looked my way but not at me. "Okay I guess."

"You wanna talk about what me 'n Manny did some more?"

"Not really, babe. I guess you got a right to some secrets."

"Well," I sucked it up and decided to tell him. "There was one kinda important part I left out. You did talk to Manny about it, too, didn't ya?"

"Yeah, I did. His version was 'bout same as yours."

"Did he mention he drug me out to the back deck and fucked me doggy style over the rail?"

He snapped his head and this time he did look at me, "No shit?"

I blushed a little and my heart went pitter-patter. I half expected Manny had already told him and was a little surprised to actually be the bearer of news. 

"The light was off and it was not my doin' honey, but he did me out there, rode me hard and I was completely naked when he fucked me."

"Hot damn," he said, just takin' it in with eyes wide.

"The thing is (i puased and tensed up) Mr. Robles next door, he was a peekin' Tom lookin at us through his bathroom window,"

I said trying to sound aggrieved about it, squeaking my voice and lookin' sorrowful. "I saw his head up against the window and I kept tellin' Manny we shouldn't be out there, that this was outside and Randy wouldn't like it."

My hand settled on his cock and I felt it grow.

"Are you upset, baby?" I asked.

His jaw twitched and he said, "Yeah, I am upset. Here I wanted to do all this to watch you fuck another guy and the first one gets to see you do that is that fat-ass old man! Shit, baby. That ain't right!"

I squeezed his cock and said in a coo-like voice, "I knowww, sweet baby. I know. And I wanna make it right. I wanna make my man happy with me again. I wanna do it just like you want it. Now why don't you think on this a moment and tell me what it is exactly you want me to do right now."

I stroked his hard on and pulled up my dress to my stomach and let him watch me finger my pussy. "What nasty thing do you wanna do to your slutty wife, Randy?"

There was a long pause and then he said, "It's my turn to fuck you on the back deck, but this time with the light on. You never fucked with ME out back!"

I froze. I wasn't expecting that. I felt a knot in my throat. "Now, baby. That was indecent of him and not my doin' - he drug me out there against my will."

"Shit, you coulda stopped him if you really wanted to. Let's do it out back."

I thought of the kids. They were in their bedroom playin' video games. "The kids are still up."

"We'll wait til they go to bed. Just be another couple hours and they'll be asleep," he said.

I felt trapped into agreeing. "Okay, baby. If that's what you want."

Then I offered to take him to the bedroom for a little cocksucking, hoping he'd be spent before we got to the back deck, but he refused. He wanted to "save himself," he said.

Two hours was a long time to think about what was gonna happen and I didn't handle it well.

My anxiety built up inside me, givin' me jitters. I pulled out the tequila and threw back a shotglass full. I decided to dress sexier, get out of this frumpy dress. 

I put on a pair of polyester and spandex blue bikini shorts that showed half my ass and a old white spandex tubetop. That revved Randy's motor up and he cornered me in the utility room while I was putting away some trash and pressed me against the backdoor leadin' to the backyard deck and dry humped my asscrack, teasin' us both into a horny state. But it wasn't time and I had to push him off me after a couple minutes of that nasty nonsense.

I was in a pickup-mode, as in pick this up and pick that up, sortin' and cleanin' house. Randy sat back on the sofa and enjoyed my ass jigglin' around the room. Around 10:30 our son came out of his room and that embarrassed me. I wasn't dressed proper and this wasn't the way he normally saw his mom. 

He was 12 and a half and I was in the living room thinking fast on my feet, hearing his steps come down the short hallway.

I snatched the throw covering the back of the sofa and held it from one end, my white knuckles at my neck and the throw coverin' an indecently dressed mommy. He came around the corner the next split-second.

I scolded him for leavin' his room, even though it wasn't fair to him to have me screechin' at him.

"Git on back to your, no, you know what, it's time for bath. Go take a shower and get ready for bed!"

"Mom! It's only 10:30 and its summer!"

I wouldn't have him talk me out of it. I scurried for a bathrobe to cover my ass and confronted him again, as he was ignoring my orders the way a stubborn child will. The little willfull brat.

I got him marching off to the shower and then went to check on my baby girl. She was distractin' herself with a coloring book. I had her go to the kitchen for her peanut butter and jelly on toast and a cup of milk, her before bedtime ritual. She was obedient about it and looked a little weary-eyed, so I was encouraged by that.

About a quarter after 11 pm, they was both off to dreamland and I came to the living room to give Randy the report. I pulled back the bathrobe to show him again how slutty I was dressed and rubbed the skin-bustin' fabric over the bulging camel-toe shape of my pussy.

"The kiddies are asleep, Randyyyyy!"

He smiled and stood up, embraced me. I took a deep breath and asked, "You sure you wanna fuck me over the back deck rail, baby? Cuz, I gotta tell you I ain't totally comfy with that. What if old man Robles peeks at me again?"

He giggled like an idiot and said, "Baby, I'm countin' on that."

"Oh, is you?"

"Yeah, gonna give the old fart a big ass tease, give him something to jack cum onto his bathroom wall with."

I sighed. "OKay, baby, but first ..."

I broke our hold, peelin' his hands off from rubbing my ass cheeks, and went to the kitchen cabinet and took another shot of tequila. I needed some liquid boldness. Then I grabbed the skeeter repellent and sprayed an oily film all over my body. I asked Randy if he wanted any and he gave himself a squirt here-n-there, not enough to do much good.

We were about to enter a steamy bayou hell, no air-conditioning, just the muggy hot summer night of an east Texas sauna. When I got to the backdoor, I put the bathrobe on the washing machine and opened the door, but Randy stopped me.

"Uh-uhhhh! Take it ALL off, baby," he commanded.

That gave me the shakes. "I"d rather not, baby. How 'bout we leave something to the imagination?"

He reached down and rubbed my pussy, "all off ... now!"

"Then let me strip out there," I asked.

He smiled, watched me step out, started flipping the back yard light switch on and off - on-off-on-off ... ON!

He stepped out and laughed out loud.

"Shush, you!" I said. And for that he pinched my left tit hard as I was pulling off my top.

"Owwww!" I screamed. "Now you done it. He gonna hear that."

He laughed loud, not at all trying to be discrete. He wanted to make a scene.

I was so embarrassed. Coverin' my big white tits with my arms. 

"Take the slut shorts down, slut," he said in a very serious and loud voice.

I was humiliated and excited, a little flushed from the alcohol. I screwed up my courage and my lips and thumbs the waist of my shorts and shoved them down to my knees. In two more tugs there were at my bare feet and I stood up completely naked with the back light on, out in the open air.

"GEt on your knees, slut," Randy said.

He was excitin' me despite my qualms. I knelt and watched him unzip his shorts. He pulled out that fat cock that had taken me this far. I started to grab it, but he commanded, "Put yor hands down by yor sides." So I did and he commenced to wield his cock like a club, slapping it down on my face over and over. He just get hitting me with it. Gently, but there was a steady fleshy sound of "tap, tap, tap, tap" on my chin and nose and cheeks and lips and forehead.

Then he stopped and just kept jacking on his cock.

"You gonna just jackoff and cum on my face?" I asked.

He looked to his left toward the Robles bathroom window and said, "He's there!"

I look and sure enough, he was there, takin' in the show. I grimaced and threw up my right arm and gave him the finger.

"Turn your body and face him, finger fuck yourself," Randy ordered.

I pivoted my knees and reach down 'tween my thick white thighs and rubbed my trimmed gash, opening the folds of my pussy lips.

"You like what you see, Mr. Robles," I said in a voice I thought just loud enough to carry to his window. I figured his wife was somewhere on the other end of the house and he wouldn't want her to catch on what he was up to.

I could make out his head in the window, but had no idea of his expression.

"Now stand up and shake your body, jiggle your big ole' titties at him," Randy said, goading me into more depravity. 

I stood up and did my best impression of a lap dancer, swaying and dancing and humping air and leanin' forward and shakin my shoulders to get my mammaries floppin' around. That broke me into a sweat and beads of my perspiration mixed with the oil sheen of repellent.

"Now step forward and git yor hands on the rail, slut. I'm gonna fuck you doggy-style you horny ass bitch!" my husband said in a voice loud enough to carry across the yard.

I did as he said, gripping the wood rail and bending myself into the position, my tits hangin' over the rail and the deck light backlightin my body. I must've looked almost demonic.

Randy grabbed my hips and slid his throbbin' pecker up my moist cunt and commenced a fierce stroke. I felt the slick sweat and oil of my big butt rub deliciously against his hard, hairy thighs and the bottom of his beer gut making friction on the crack of my ass. He was excited to sheer meanness and started hollerin'.

"Is this the way Manny fucked you? Is this the way Manny fucked my wife, out here in public like some street whore? Is this the way you like it, wifey, this the - uh - way - you fuck, fuck for my friends, bitch!"

I was stunned at the intensity. He was releasin' some honest resentment. This was more than dirty talk.

I just moaned: "Ohhh, ohh baby let out - uh, huhhh! - give it to me, yessss."

He kept his rant-fuck goin' "Like this bitch? You like fuckin' takin Manny's cock up yor dirty skank pussy on MY backporch? Huh? Fuckin' whore!"

"Yes, baby, I like it. I like it with Manny. I love his cock doin' me, fuckin' me out here."

"Yeah. UH! I thought you did, you FUCKinnnnnnnn fuckin' slut! Well, how about for me, don't I get to fuck my wife anywhere I want? Huh? Why you hesitatin' to give me what's mine bitch!?"

"Ohhh, ohh Randy. I'll give you anythin' you want baby. Oh, your's is better anyhow. Oh baby! I love that fucking badass cock you got. Mmmmmm! Yess baby, fuck me like the whore I am, fuck me out here all nasty like you wanna, baby. Do me deep, oh, oh ohhhhhhhhhh!"

I looked up and saw Robles still at the window, takin' it all in. Randy had me HOT. I was building up and groaning and letting my fuck juices run in an orgasmic rush down the insides of my thighs til the wet evidence of my lust seeped under the soles of my feet.

But Randy's excitement was too much for him and he pushed himself too hard too fast. It was close to over in ten minutes. He growled and cursed me and seized up and I was glad to have it end fairly soon.

He said, "Fuck! I'm cumming," and his cock stroked into my shaking body. I had cum before him and was building up my second 'O' when he started to shudder, dig his dirty mechanic's nails into the skin of my hips and his cock involuntarily jerked shots of cum up my fuck hole.

When he was spent and goin' soft, I waited for him to slip out the wet hole on his own and then I stood up and put my hands under my tatas and shook them at Mr. Robles. I shot him the finger again and turned and embraced my husband.

"I love you, Randy. I love you. And I'm ready for anything baby. Whatever you want me to do. I don't care if you want me gang-banged. I'll do it for you."

He stayed silent for a bit, still heaving breaths from his effort. Then said, "You sure you ain't sayin' that cuz you just a horny slut that wants to fuck around now?"

I said, "No baby. Okay, maybe I'm a slut. But I'd rather do things your way."

We kissed and held each other there and pretty much forgot about our audience. We walked in the house arm-in-arm and slept with each other in our bed all night for the first time in close to two weeks.

***

The following afternoon, I was in the front yard pulling weeds, dressed in long lose-fitting jeans and a strapless top - one of those with the elastic on top so it hugs around the top of your tits and across the center of your back. I had on a wide brim hat. I was sweatin' in the sun and working hard, meditating on cocks - if you can believe. I just pulled weeds and though of a man's pubic hair and cock: Manny's cock, Randy's cock and tried to imagine the cocks of other men.

My cell phone rang. I stopped and wiped my brow, dug out the cell phone from my pocket. It was Randy. He was giving me details about the arrangements for my impending initiation.

"Manny's in and Chuey and his girlfriend Imelda, too. What you think about Roland and Sammy?"

I was taken aback. "I thought it was just gonna be Manny and you, baby."

"Yeah, but everybody's eager. These boys have been waitin' on you for a long time, hunney-bun," my devious husband said.

I didn't mind Chuey, a swarthy young Mexican who worked at the garage with Randy. I knew him and had expected that he would be one of the men-fold Randy would have me bed with eventually. It just seemed too soon. And I did NOT like Imelda. She and I were from the same sophomore class in high school and she was already a well-known slut then.

Imelda dropped out of high school half-way through her junior year and there were well-corroborated stories that she was a gangbang chick and a drug addict.

And Roland! 

"No, Randy, I don't like this one bit. I don't mind Chuey so much but I don't wanna be doin' this with Imelda around. Why does she care to be here, anyhow? And Roland! Roland is a pimp!"

"Baby, Imelda's comin' over to help out, in case it gets to be too much for you. She's a experienced girl, sweety. She's a real sport."

"A real sport? Great. Is that what I am to you now, another real sport?"

"Well, that's just a term of .. aw hell, baby, now you're backing out again?"

"I didn't say that. I just ... fuck! How many men am I supposed to fuck Saturday? Can you tell me that, Randy?"

There was a long pause. I was feelin' my blood start to boil.

"Four."

"Four ... including you?"





Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 05



"No, and I can't say for sure it will be four. It might just be three, ... with Roland."

"I don't understand why Roland is a part of this," I said, "Why did you invite him?"

"He's a good customer baby. He got wind and asked about bein' in on it and I know him to be popular with the ladies."

"You mean with the whores," I said, my voice getting edgier. "You want him to fuck me because he spends a lot of money at the shop?"

"No baby! It's not just that. He'll ..."

"Shut UP! Fuck! .... Fuck! Fuck, Fuck Meee!" I yelled into the cell. I was exasperated. "Look, just, just do what you fuckin' wanna do Randy. But four is the limit! And bring me some good drugs cuz' your sweet mama's gonna need a damn good buzz for this shit."

I shut the phone off and grabbed my hand spade off the grass and threw it in the dirt. In four days I was gonna get my first gangbang. I wanted to be calm about it, but I couldn't be calm. I spent much of the next 96 hours sippin' tequila, going through my marijuana stash and orderin' Randy to lie on the floor.

The only sex he was gettin' until Saturday was the sex of me sittin' my pussy on his face and trying to suffocate the bastard. 



Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 06



The Gangbang Part 1

 Early into Saturday afternoon, I was relaxing in the bathtub. Instead of showering, I decided I wanted to pamper myself and set a warm bubble bath.

The kids, I'd taken to mama's for the weekend. It was just me and Randy and he was in the kitchen making me a icy margarita while I soaked and scrubbed at the mosquito bites around my ankles I'd gotten a few hours earlier while taking a walk with him through the woods on what I call the back-forty, some woody wetlands south of the neighborhood.

Mr. Gracious came in with a smile, gazed at me covered in bubbles and sat himself on the edge, handing me the margarita.

"Almost showtime," he said, beaming down on me like a goofy human lighthouse. I grimaced, smiled, took my drink, had a sip and went over in my mind the company we expected: Manny, Chuey and Imelda, Roland and his brother Sam, and supposedly Roland was also bringing a irlfriend, some black bitch I didn't know. At least I wouldn't have to face all those men alone, or so I thought.

"Looking forward to it?" he asked, for the umpteenth time. I was in a mellow marijuana-induced fog and on my first of what I expected would be many strong margaritas. I can hold my liquor and drink some men under the table.

"I guess ... it feels better now that it's here. I was sick with anxiety attacks waitin' all these days for this to happen," I replied. "More like years, waitin' for years," he said. I tipped my salty-edged glass and lifted a wet wide leg out of the water and splashed Randy's back.

"I gave you a lotta good lovin' and still you gripe about me not bein' slutty enough. You should be glad I made you wait this long. You turn me loose like this, better watch out, I may be more of a hoe than you can handle from now on," I warned.

"Baby, you can't be enough of a hoe fer me. I love my wifey as nasty as she can get!" he said, following that with a stupid giggle. I found his giggles irritating. Reminded me of that dumbass sheriff's deputy in Dukes of Hazard. I asked him to leave and let me relax. I had to be alone with my thoughts. He obeyed and I lay back, my glass in one hand and my other hand reaching down to my pussy. I played in the wetlands and thought of Manny and Chuey giving me a hellacious double-penetration.

"Ohhhhhhh," I moaned.

* * *

Two hours later, I was dressed in jewelry: a white gold ankle bracelet on my left ankle, a sterling bracelet with sun and heart charms on my right wrist, a thin white gold chain with a cheap steel Playboy icon pendant set just above my cleavage, a steel rolo link chain around my waist and plain sterling bands on the middle finger of each hand and my yellow gold wedding band, with the accompanying princess cut 2-carat fake diamond solitaire.

I put on a see-through blue negligee that just covered my ass, blue lacey panties with a matching blue lacey push-up bra. The under garments was new. I saved up for them for this occasion and they were satin and a royal blue. I put the makeup on a little heavy and dark: cinnamon eyeshadow, mauve lipstick, a lot of tan blush, black lip liner. I plucked the eyebrows some and puckered at the mirror, thinking I looked pretty damn whorey.

I'd lifted the glass from the vanity dresser and finished off my second margarita. "Mmmmm." I was feeling okay.

I stood up and looked me over in the fullview mirror. That was always harder. My tits were nice, 40Ds dont disappoint, even on a bad day. But my ass was big, that's not gonna change. I had a pot belly, more like a small kettle there. Still had the cellulose on the thighs. I weighed myself and was surprised to see I'd come in at 172 pounds!

I had lost 6 pounds since I last checked.

"Must be the stress," I thought. I went to the living room and borrowed a cigarette from Randy. I normally don't smoke tobackey, but today was special. I stood at the screen door, letting hot air in and by the time I was down to the filter, a old red Ford Mustang was coming up the street.

"Chuey's coming," I told Randy. 

He snapped up, got to his feet and came to the door and put an arm around me. I guess he was almost as anxious as I was.

As the car pulled up behind Randy's pickup, Chuey and Imelda got out. Chuey is 5 feet 10 inches, what I think of as a little tall for a Mexican. He's dark and stocky, probably 210 pounds. He wore a wifebeater sleeveless shirt, and long baggy khaki denim shorts, some pricey tennis shoes.

Imelda looked good. In fact better than me, which was irritating since I was supposed to be the center of attention at this evenings debauchery. She was also dark-skinned, about 5 feet 4 inches, (three inches shorter than me), but lean and muscular, looked about 120 pounds. Damn!

She had long black shiny hair and a handsome face for a Mexican: high broad cheekbones, a broad triangular native american-type nose, full lips that were like a bow-and-arrow on its side and stretched to the maximum tension, a dimple in her chin. Her cup size looked like a perky 34D and she had less waist than me, made her bubble ass look more curvey.

I have curves, but they're bigger and not as angular. She just had more definition and her walk showed it. I hated her.

When they came in everybody hugged everybody like we were old friends. We were, but not this close. But the occasion seemed to call for shows of affection.

Chuey got right to the point when he hugged me. His hands slid down and squeezed my ass cheeks. He kissed me full on the lips and offered tongue. I reluctantly accepted but did not reply by offering my tongue. We slowly broke our hold and Randy led me to the sofa and sat next to me.

Chuey sat in the lazy chair opposite us and Imelda put her put on the armrest and put a pretty brown leg on Chuey's lap. She immediately reached down and stroked his cock. Not to be outdone, I reached down and stroked Randy's cock.

"So," Chuey said. "How's it gonna happen?" Randy said, "I thought we'd get them to suck us off first and then have them switch."

There was a pause.

"Um, sorry. Where's my manners. Do you two wants drinks? We just made a fresh pitcher of margarita." 

They both said yes and I got up and went to the kitchen. I felt butterflies in my stomach but they were under control.

I came back with their drinks and Imelda took hers with a kind of sneering smile that was unnerving.

When Chuey took his, he held my hand and said, "You gonna make a fine slut, Terry. You a little big, but men love meat when it's packaged like that, heh heh heh."

He sounded like a jerk. I smiled and decided not to say anything. 

I went back and sat with Randy, but then he got up and asked me if I wanted another one. How thoughtfull, I thought.

"No Randy, I think you should light up a blunt. I haven't had one in four hours. He went to the bedroom for the stash. I sat there, looking at the carpet. I was bothering me watching them both stair at me, sneering at me. They did not have kind faces. These were hardcore people.

"So, this is your first time, ... takin' on a gangbang," she said matter of fact like. It didn't have the tone of a question.

Imelda wore a black mini skirt with a broad band waist and side zipper. Her belly showed just a crack and there was some kind of tattoo I couldn't make out. She had on a tight olive green pleated tank with spaghetti strap, and chocolate brown leather open toe sandals. She seemed to have a perpetual sneer on her face. Her facial gestures were those of a woman leering, lascivious with her lips, cheeks and eyes. She eyed Randy a lot and kept bringin the tip of her tongue from the left corner of her mouth and sliding it across her thick bottom lip to the right corner, then back into her mouth. "Yes, it's my first," I said in a burst of exhaling air. I crossed my legs and looked from her to Chuey and back. "I guess you've done this plenty of times, huh."

Chuey laughed and she gave out an odd looking snarling smile, she stuck her tongue at Chuey like it was a spade about to plow ground. She looked at me and said, "Hey church girl, I know I'm a hoe. Now you gonna find out you one, too."

I got defensive: "Just cuz I believe in havin' a spiritual life and raisin' my children with good influences don't mean I don't know how to have fun.

Chuey unzipped his pants and Imelda, who had been rubbing over the fabric, fished out his cock.

It was a dark chocolate brown cock, semi-hard and thick looking. Her brown hands and thin fingers squeezed and tugged at it.

Randy returned with a blunt and handed it to me with a lighter. I made fire and sucked in easy, trying not to take too much hot smoke. I coughed a little and Imelda giggled. 

I took another hit, held this one and passed it to Randy who walked over to Chuey, he pointed at Imelda, so Randy put it in her free hand. Our stash wasn't great stuff. We couldn't afford some exotic, high-quality weed. It was Mexican and mostly leaves, but it had some bud. It was a little sticky and gave a good high.

Now when I get a good stone going, and I was well on my way, I go from a normal state of anxiety and stress to a mellow more relaxed place - that's mostly the tequila's doin'. The weed pulls me into a wickedly mellow place. I'm still gellin' but the light gets brighter, a get a little happier and I have mild, intermittent hallucinations - like transparent overlays on the real world with cartoonish creatures. If sex is on my mind and it's most always on my mind, totally in this situation, my cartoonish creatures are devils and demons and she-devils and snakes.

They blink in and out on the walls and on peoples faces and bodies.

They were blinking in and out like crazy on Chuey and Imelda. I felt wicked spirits in the air and laughter bubbling under the surface of my hold on reality.

I felt bold again and stepped up to the plate. Or more to the point, I ignored Randy. We all knew what was supposed to happen. The blunt came around to me. I stood up, took a long hit and held it. While I held it. When I let it exhale, I turned my margarita glass upside down and swallowed it all. That helped calm the hot of the smoke in my throat and gave me a cool horny rush. 

I was goin' in. I stepped over to Chuey's now hard cock. I unhooked my bra and let it drop to the floor. I slipped my thumbs into the elastic of my blue panties and pulled them down slowly - for effect- and stepped out of one leg hole. I let the panties hand on one ankle, to complement the ankle bracelet, and I kneeled. I was submitted myself to this Mexican hardcase, like a good whore should. I felt nastiness in my heart and smiled at him.

Imelda let go of her man's hard cock and said, "Alright, sister. Let's see if you can satisfy my man."

No preliminaries, I took it all in and started sucking and tongue cuddling that spic's sausage. I moaned cuz I like it and I know men like to hear a woman enjoyin' herself. I reached down with my left hand, right hand jackin' cock, and fingered my clit in a vibrating motion with the tip of my index finger.

I felt movement on my side, but ignored it. I could tell by the sounds that Imelda had gone to Randy and he had sat down on the sofa behind me and was unzipping his trousers. His moans and her smacking noises told me she was sucking my husband's cock and being messy about it.

I looked up, "How am I doin'?"

Chuey was staring and sneering down at me, watching his cockhead rest and throb on my lower lip.

"Ain't a bad start, Terry. Now takes some long licks on my fuckin' prick and find your way down to my balls, slut!"

I did as I was told. I was enjoying the novelty of it, this new cock. It was a little shorter than Randy's but as fat. It was not as veiny and the color was so pretty, it was seducing me. I let my tongue and lips linger on the underside of the shaft and wiggled my tongue down, down, down to his nutsack and kissed and licked it. "Mmmmmm," I moaned.

I soon had those brown balls in my mouth, gently cradling them and making saliva. I had stopped diddling my clit, remembered it and resumed. My body was getting excited from brain to my buttered up thighs.

Randy groaned and I knew from its level that she had him hard and manufacturing a cum-load. I looked up at Chuey's wicked eyes and let his balls slip out of my mouth. "Yeah, bitch, keep doin' whatcha doin."

I pushed myself up and forward and swallowed his cock again, this time all of it I could take. I held seven inches of his hard fucking prick in my mouth and rolled my tongue along the shaft, biting gently with my upper teeth.

"Oh shit, bitch," Chuey said. "You a fuckin' cocksucker."

I pumped my head, working up and down, fuckin' his cock in my mouth, diddling my clit and reaching behind me to finger my asshole with my other hand. He saw that and groaned, "Nnnnn, you fuckin' freak. Freaky."

I pumped him for about a minute then released his cock and asked in a girlie slutty voice, "Mmmmm, Chuey, you wanna FUCK me now?"

"Shit, well that's why we're here, ain't it? Hell yeh I wanna fuck you, Mrs. Jensen."

I positioned myself on the center of the living room carpet and lay back and spread my legs, pulling off my panties and tossing them at Randy. I looked at him and it was wicked. He was leering at me, enjoying the sight of his wife submitting herself to another man while some Mexican slut sucked his cracker cock. He had one hand on her scalp, fingertips disappearing into her black, silky hair.

I turned and looked at Chuey and had one of those momentary hallucinations. I red devilish image superimposed on his face and then his body and I listened to it giggle and whisper to me: "my sweet Teresa, give yourself to me."

I answered aloud, "Yes, yes. Fuck me!" Chuey was in position. He lifted my legs at the underside of the knees, gripping tight and plunged into my wet, aching cunt.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," I immediately felt the pleasure of my act of wicked surrender. "Ohhh, yeahhhh. Fuck me!" I said with more violence in my voice.

Chuey handled me with a confidence that made me comfortable with him, even with Imelda and Randy watching. His hands under my knees felt strong, he held me tight, his thick brown cock stroked into my wet, horny pulsing snatch and I let myself feel the wicked rush of my horny stoned mind-body meld.

My eyes were on my pussy, my head lifted and watching his cock use me. "Ohhhh, fuck."

Suddenly Randy stepped behind Chuey and watched over his shoulder. I looked up and whinced in ecstasy and a momentary sense of wifely duty. "Is this, Randy? Is this how you want to see me? Fuckin' all your friends?"

"Yesss, baby," he said with obvious and lust-filled enthusiasm. "You fuckin' look awesome, Terry."

My lips peeled back into a lusting sneer and my eyes squinted. I felt evil in my heart, an evil I knew came from the greed of acting on my fleshly desires with the full approval of my wicked husband.

"Yeahhhh," I said, "Fuck my pussy Chuey, fuck me you badass hot fuckin' Mexican prick!" Chuey grinned and added more thrust. I felt his prodding, probing fat prick, making me wetter, making me more hungry for it, driving me wild.

"Take that, bitch, you fuckin' puta," he said as he added a little extra hard pump on ever other stroke. It was one-TWO! one-TWO! one-TWO! And I was goin' nuts, baby.

"Ohhhhhh, uh, ohhhh, uh, ohhhhh, uh, ohhhh fuhgggggg uhnnn NNNN!"

I closed my eyes and felt rustling next to me. I kept my eyes closed and grimaced with the intense pleasure of Chuey's steady fucking. I reached down and poked my fingers tips against the shaft, feeling its wet surface rise and fall into me. I settled on my clit, rubbed my eyes. I felt my rustling, the sound of sex beyond me. I opened my eyes and looked to my left.

Imelda was on her knees, Randy standing over her. She was sucking my husband's hard white cock and he was beside himself with leering grins and roving eyes, watching her, watching me. 

That made me jealous. I kicked up my legs and loosed them from Chueys grip, then hooked my calves behind his hips, pressing into the working muscles of his ass, hugging him to me. I was determined to enjoy this to its fullest. 

"Yeah! Oh fuck! Fuck meeeee. Fuck me Chuey. Oh! I love that damn cock! Give it to me, daddy!"

Only Randy was daddy. I let slip, making Chuey to be 'my daddy' to see what reaction I got from Randy. He had a momentary look of disconcert, but it passed and he sneered at me then encouraged me to more depravity.

"Fuck her, Chuey. She loves it. I told you my wife is a fucking hot slut, didn't I?"

"Yeah, man," Chuey said in full agreement. He pumped. I squeezed. I looked away from Randy. I know at this point it was stupid to react this way, but watching Imelda suck my husband off was annoying me. I looked again, this time peeking through slitted eyes, and trying to focus on Chuey's sweet strokes hitting my g-spot.

"Mmmmm!"

Imelda released Randy's cock and stood up. She reached down and started pulling her top off. I was curious about the piece of a tattoo I had noticed earlier. She turned my way to see how we were doing, her top bare.

It was freakish looking. She had a ceasarian scar up the center of her hard brown stomach. On the left side of it was a devil's head in profile, its horns arcing up her rib cage and around her left tit. She had nice perky tits and I thought she must've had a boob job 'cuz mama's don't get to keep those after breast-feeding.

To the right of the scar was a rattlesnake, it's rattle tail beside her tit and the body stretched out, undulating down with the head, forked tongue out, pointed just above her pubic hair zone, but she was shaved, as was quickly obvious because she jiggled out of her bottom, stripping bare in front of me. 

She took my hand that I was fingering my clit with and sucked my wet fingers. Then she bent over, caressed my breasts and kissed me full on the mouth. I kissed back, shocked and horny.

I had never kissed a woman. She stood straight and told Chuey to move me to the center of the room. He pulled out. I wanted to pout, but I was the newbie and I just kept quiet and paid attention to instructions, nodding my head as I was moved around.

I lay flat on the carpet, my knees bent and heels plants. Chuey resumed his fucking, this time with slower strokes.

Imelda got on all fours, lined up with me, her head above my head and her hands planted on either side of my shoulder. She looked down at me and smiled and said, "Randy, give me that fine, long white cock. Fuck me doggy-style like I know you do so good, baby."

She smiled with evil eyes and I had images of Randy cheating on me all this time. Why did she say it that way?

I closed my eyes and heard the wet swish of my husband's cock going up that whore's dirty hole. I groaned.

She pressed her wrists against my shoulders and I could feel her body rock as my man fucked her. I groaned.

I looked toward Chuey and emotional pain. I was horny but I was hurt. Why had my life come to this?

My stoned mind played tricks on me and reddished transparent devil spirits took possession of Chuey. He was enjoying this and began swearing, "Fucking big-ass white trash whore. I make you a fucking puta, you dirty white bitch. You got some fuckin' wet horny pussy here you must like takin' my fat brown cock, eh, puta? Eh?"

I groaned and said, "yesssssssssssssssss" in a long exhale of surrender. I was becoming what my husband wanted me to be. I was letting it happen.

"Yesss, Chuey," I looked up at Imelda, she was biting her lower lip, loving my husband's cock. SHe pursed her lips and let out a high-pitched "Oooooooooo, papi. Ooooooo jesss foke me papi!"

Devils didn't take possession of her. She was a devil. She stared down at me and opened her mouth wide.

"Oh, you're papi's a good fuck!"

"Yesss, isn't he," I responded with a little sarcasm, which she caught. 




Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 06



"Mmmm, Randy. You woman is a leetle jealous. Ha ha ha. Better get used to it bitch. You get to fuck other men, he get to fuck other womans. It's only fair," the slut said.

I groaned louder, feeling my body's hunger grow. Chuey pounded harder, faster. His pace was getting to me.

I could ignore her and I let myself feel love and lust for another man. I wanted Chuey. So I said so.

"Mmmmmmmmm! Oh, Chuey. I want you! Mmmmm. Oh, yessss. Fuck me baby. Fuck me. Mmmmm you do it so good oh that feels hot oh yessss!"

And it did. I was building to a big one fast. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" gasp! "Uhhhhhhhfuck fuck fuck FUCK!"

"Uhhhhhhhh," I heard above me and I shut my eyes to stop looking at Imelda lust-angry face above me, watching her enjoy my husband's cock - that was fuckin' with my mixed up head. "Love it," I said to counter her groans. 

"Love that cock oh fuck me fuck uh-MEEE!" I said and it was true. OH, that was some good cock stroking me up and down gettin' me all wet and wild, I felt the soft roll of my curvy body * tits, tummy, ass and thighs all jiggling, shaking, my abdomen muscles tensing, straining, another wave crunching, munching its way through me.

"Ohhhhh, Ohhhhh, eeeeeee-aaaahhh!" Then a hard, "Whack!" on my left outer thigh. "Ow," I howled and then more pleasure of "Uhhhh!"

I looked at Chuey, he smiled, slowed and pulled out, pushed my legs flat to the carpet and knee-walked up over my thick trembling thighs to plant himself around my waist, his hard bottom settled down on my tummy and his cock, jerking, still hands free, bobbed and tapped on my tits.

I grabbed my tits and spread them, "Wanna, TIT-Fuck my, daddy? Cum on, fuck me some more," I said, my voice husky and quivering with my own horny, hungry demented willingness.

I felt the dimensions of humans and demons mingle, my sick mind watching Chuey and Imelda flicker between human and devils, one, the other, both, all of us, me, especially me.

"Let it happen," I commanded, and his wet, hard brown cock split the valley of my soul and I pressed my round 40-Ds toward the object of my desire. His cocked poked through and back, disappearing in a wicked game of peek-a-fucking-you-boo, fuck-me-boo!

"Ohh, shit," I said, then let out a groan, and then I felt Chuey's fingers rubbing my clit hard. "Ohhh gawwd!"

All this time, Imelda was breathing hard, I felt her take a shattering series of thrusts from Randy and there was that repetitive "uhhhh .... uhhhhh .... uhhhh."

"Like it, puta, nnnn, you fucking hot piece of white ass, gonna make you 'la perra mas cochina' the dirtiest white bitch, yeah fuck, fuck fuck this piece of brown cock gonna cum all over you bitch!" Chuey spewed words at me, inciting me to submit with all the lust in my heart.

I hissed a long, "yesssssssss."

And he came. A shot of goo gushed from between my tits, from the hidden head of brown cock, spraying my chest and covering my steel Playboy pendant in watery whitish semen.

That cock pushed through my quivering tatas and shot up my neck and the underside of my chin.

"Fuck the bitch," cursed Imelda. "Fuck her up baby!"

Chuey's fingers pushed deeper into my pussy and hooked the pubic bone. He squeezed on bone and let another shot of jizz fly, this time with his cock atop my tits as I had lost control. The shot landed on my lips and a rope of cum flopped down my chin and neck. "Uhhhhhh," I moaned.

"Damn nasty gangbanging slut!" Imelda cursed. "Fuck, yeah fuck the bitch up baby!"

Chuey groaned, dribbled cum on my nibbles, grabbed his cock. I lay my hands by my side and curled fingers into fists. I opened my eyes and saw Imelda's upside-down face, her grimacing mouth, and contorted eyebrows revealing the pounding Randy was giving her. "Errrrrrrr shit!" she said.

I caressed Chuey's thick brown hairy thighs and mouthed "fuck me" words without speaking, my hips gently jerking under him, his fingers continued to rub my pussy. He was spent and I needed a break.

"Oooooooooooooooo!" Imelda let out and Randy, quiet in concentration, grunted and grunted again. I knew he had just started cumming. 

She bit her lip, shut her eyes, took it, took it, took it. My husband's semen filling her up.

When Randy was done, Imelda took a few long breaths then told Chuey to get off of the bitch. She surprised me.

I wondered who was in control. She turned herself around, walking on hands and knees and then aimed her wet pussy over my face. "Oh no," I said.

"Oh yes," she said. She grabbed my hair hard, held me in place, lowered her body and I felt the wet sticky stinking holed of that slut. "Mmmmmmmm!" I protested.

"Eat me out bitch, lick up your husband's cum, don't you wanna have his cum all to yerself, slut? I can see the way you look at me, think you're better or something, just cuz you waited. Fuck you fuckin hypocrite whore, you just fucked me man right in front of me. I don't see a problem with me giving you what's yours. Eat me bitch!"

Randy left the room, I reluctantly licked, she had her stinking cunt smashed against me, she was riding on my face like a horny nympho slut. She was suffocating me. I struggled to maintain but I felt my ego crumbling under the onslaught of her hard words and my own lust.

Randy came back, leaned over me smiling, then brought into my view what he held in his hand, a long fat black dildo, "Something for you trouble, sweety!"

He handed it to Imelda and she grinned and said, "Fuck yeah," and she not so gently pushed it in and commenced to fuck me royally. "Nnnnnnnnnnn," I groaned. What else could I say?

I ate her clean, she fucked me and cursed me with her every breath. I watched her evil face and her wicked tattoos writhe on her stomach as she expertly thrust the dildo through my tortured hole.

She brought me to another orgasm. I felt beaten. My spirit broken. Any resistance I felt to this lifestyle was in tatters.

She wouldn't stop until I gave her another "O" and when her's came she let loose what felt like a hot cup of salty soup into my mouth and all over my face. I was a fucked up mess.

She eased herself off of me and rolled to my side. We lay there, our men watching, standing over us at our feet, stroking their limp cocks when the sound of a car drew near.

"That would be Manny," Randy said. 

I felt my stomach rumble like an earthquake of butterflies.

Chuey stepped to the window and added to the scouting report, "He's got Roland with him, and Roland's brother."

I felt panic again, this time much worse than anything I'd felt this week. I was tired. I'd been fucked but good. How was I supposed to do a, a what? A foursome with those big dogs?

I pulled myself up and grabbed Imelda's hand hard. I leaned close to her ear, "May I speak with you in private, in my bath?"

For once, finally, I saw real kindness in her eyes. But a sad kindness. She knew. She knew what I was in for. 

My throat choked up. I thought, if this hardcore slut is looking at me like that, maybe I am in trouble.

We went together to the bathroom, sisters in slutsville. I closed and locked that door and trembled, "What have I got myself into."

She hugged me tight. We stood there sharing our warmth and our bodies glueing to each other with sweat and cum and pussy juices. "It won't be too bad," she said.

"Will you stay with me," I begged. My voice was begging.

"Only if they want me to," Imelda said. "Roland is a mean mutherfucker and can't be predicted. Keep Randy in the room. Don't let him leave you."

I was taken aback. "Why would Randy leave me?" I said. "He's all about wanting to watch."

"Yeah," she said, "He's like that but Roland will try to get you alone wit his boys, without Randy watching."

"Why?" I asked.

"Bitch, so he can do what he want wit you, so he can fuck you up."

"He likes to give his bitches crack, he'll get you alone and blow it down your lungs, puta!"

"Then you'll BE his PUTA, ... get it."

I gulped, "Oh gawd. ... I just want this to stop."

"Then make it stop," she said. 

"How?" I asked stupidly.

She shrugged, made a 'who knows' face. "Just say no, eh?"

There was a knock on the door. It was Randy. I thanked Imelda and let her out and asked Randy to come in alone.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"What do you think?" I said with some sarcasm. Then I thought about how I needed my man to stand by me through this. "These are bad men, Randy. Don't you know that? What are you trying to do to me ... exactly. I mean, are you trying to get rid of me. Cuz men like that make whores. Not just sluts. This kind of thing it's about business connections for them."

"Aw sweety, come on. It ain't like that. They're not that bad. They're just guys I know."

I thumped a fist in his chest.

"That is a lie. You know that is a lie. Now baby tell me true. Are you trying to get rid of me? Do you love me at all?"

He looked a little hurt. "Yes baby. Teresa! My wife, you're my wife. I love you I do. Look, nothing bad is gonna happen to you. I know what they're about, but they ain't gonna do anything here with you that you don't want them doin."

I shook my head. 

"Are you backing out? Oh baby come on!"

"I am not backing out ... out of the idea of what we're doing. I just don't like those men. I don't trust them. YOU! You are going to be with me through this whole fucking orgy. You cannot leave the room. You cannot do you understand me Randy?"

"Yeah baby, sure. I'll be with you."

"YOu promissssss!" there were tears welling up in my eyes when I said that.

"I promise," he said quietly. I felt he was understanding the gravity of my fear. He hugged me, we kissed and we started to walk out together, then I froze and said, "Let me wash up first."

I took a towel, wet it in the sink and wiped the juices of my last sex session off of me. I turned to him and said, "okay, baby. I'm ready."

[ To be Continued ]



Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 07



Mingling with our visitors, my sense of things got to a spinning confusion. Between the alcohol and the weed and the fuck, it was a gooood fuck, and the chess of players in my house, I felt like an old Buick doing 60mph on the freeway and the driver (who's driving?) all of a sudden throwed the transmission in reverse. 

My poor used pussy still had "fresh cock memory" and was achin' for round two, but my brain was THINKING! fast and lust had just been kicked outta command central. 

The scene as I saw it was this. Randy meant me no harm, but he had a habit of being naive about his so-called friends.

My hubby could be exploited, Lord knows I did it all the time.

Imelda may have been just trying to scare me to have all these men to herself. Her rep for depravity was legendary. Then again, Roland was someone to worry about.

He grew up in our town. Played junior varsity his freshman year but he dropped out the next summer and moved to Houston. Being a couple of years older than Randy and Manny, they never played together in school and did not know each other until years later. They knew each other through DeShawn - Roland's brother was closer to Randy in age and school affiliations.

DeShawn stayed behind. Roland made his money two ways - drugs and prostitution and it was mostly the prostitution.

He was DeShawn's supplier and DeShawn was our supplier for weed, but he usually had harder stuff if anyone was foolish enough to want it.

Roland was a big man and mean looking. He was 6-foot-three and 260-ish pounds. He had thighs like an big oak has trunk and that alone made my hole salivate, just the thought of those big hard thighs thumping on my broad pasty white ass, the groundshaking fuck he could surely deliver. Ohhhhhhh, daddy. 

He was much darker than his brother, which led me to always assume they had different papas, but I never asked.   DeShawn was about the same height, but slim, light-skinned with freckles and reddish hair. He was maybe 180 pounds naked.

I had asked Randy several times why he invited them. He always gave a sparse and evasive answer like "I just did, okay?" or something else as unforthcoming. I knew neither of them would've been in Randy's Top 5, so that left me with two possible answers, neither was flattering to me.

One, Randy had asked some of his closer friends and had been turned down. For whatever reason, his GOOD buddies didn't wanna fuck me. Well, shit - there's somethin' to ponder on. Two, Roland had something on Randy, like money was owed and I was either partial or full payment for some crap I knew nothing of.

Fuck, I wondered. What the hell AM I worth?

Chuey didn't bother me. He was practically Randy's partner in the garage. Whatever was in Randy's best interest was in Chuey's best interest. So, I figured he had some interest in my well-being. But Chuey was no brighter than my husband and someone I thought to be poor in common sense. In a word, gullible. He might infuse me with sperm, but not a lot of confidence.

All this thinking! My head was getting warped and I was muttering out loud, "This is so wrong," waving a hand at my visitors as I shuffled around in our crowded bedroom. Roland and DeShawn and made themselves comfy on my bed, lying beside each other like a bored couple, oggling naked self-conscious me. They had never seen me naked and I wasn't all that comfy about them having the opportunity.

My comment was taken by the group with a laugh. It was just the flipside of "I'm a sick puppy." We were all sick puppies, perverse sex fiends and dope fiends.

Roland let loose a gravelly voice: "I'll make it as wrong as you want it, mmmm hmmm, you got some fuck-alicious curves, uh huh, fine ass hoochie mama, mmm heh!"

He waggled his bright pink tongue at it. It looked so wicked coming out of the deep contrast of that black face.

I turned my eye to the kitchen counter in the next room. Imelda was sitting in the only chair in my bedroom, the roller by my computer. She was surfing for porn. Randy, half naked with his shirt back on, still had his arm around me and Chuey had his naked butt leaning against my vanity dresser.

I pried myself loose and walked toward the kitchen, "Anybody want a drink? I can make another batch of margaritas."

I felt my naked butt and thighs shake with more sexy than I felt. I was conscious of my cheap jewelry, my only clothing. Cheap jewelry. The rolo chain belt made a faint klink. I felt like trash. A lump grew in my throat. 

The haze of THC in my blood ever-present, kept me in the swirly place of "not think clear-Lee."

I opened the fridge to answers of "Yeah," and someone - Roland - asked for a "shot of whiskey straight up."

I filled the blender pitcher with ice, frozen lime concentrate, triple sec and tequila and let her rip. Staring at the blender, I said, "Focus girl focus, comeon, get it too-geth-errrr!"

I remembered the whiskey request, pulled down my only bottle of Johnny Walker, two-thirds empty. Then Manny walked up. I had forgotten about him! He had been in the other bath taking a long piss. I remembered he had come with Roland and DeShawn. That instantly brightened my mood.

Manny was the man in this town, he had connections. Roland could operate here because Manny let him, and probably had some stake in that business, too. Manny didn't work because of his inheritance. He was a playboy. 

Roland might exploit women for business, but for Manny making sluts was strictly pleasure. He preferred younger, leaner meat than me, so I knew his interest was genuine.

We were, after all, old friends. What did I have to worry about? I stood in his way as he walked up and smiled.

"Hello there handsome," I said, remembering fondly our last fuck. I was feeling playful and fishing for a compliment.

I shook my hip and spanked my thigh and posed for him and pointed at the blender. He broke into that gorgeous boyish grin and I said, "I was worried you'd forget about me Manny, what with all them pretty young things distracting you."

He hugged me, "Mmmm, not you Terry. You're my number one."

"Liar," I said, and THAT was the compliment I was fishin' for. We tongue-kissed and I enjoyed his hands squeezin' my ass.

I shut down the blender and then, for the longest moment the only sound in the house was me giggling while Manny tickled my ribs and waist. I snuck behind him and jumped on his back and rode him around the kitchen in horse play, with him spanking my thigh and me squeelin' like a little girl, "eeee, eeeee, eeee!"

He stood straight and I slid off, barefoot on cold linoleum again. "This your big day, Terry. You ready?"

I had renewed confidence. "I'm already at it. I'm more than ready. I"m gonna be the nastiest girl in three counties tonight!"

I dutifully served everyone's margaritas, like a good hostess, receiving compliments on my hospitality, looks and good spirit, to which I announced with mock seriousness: "If mama's in a good mood, everybody's in a good mood. Are we gonna keep mama happy?"

There was a howl of obedient replies, except for Chuey who was in pain, I looked to watch and hear, "Sssss-ay!"

Imelda was pinching his bare nipple hard, left it pink. I asked why, they didn't explain. It was their personal business.

I went back to the kitchen for the shotglass and served Roland last. As I came up to him he was lighting a blunt.

"Here some git-happy-fog fo yuz, hootchie mama," he said, extending it to me. I passed him the shotglass and took the blunt and saw he was stroking a hard-on through the fabric of his long baggy yellow shorts. He was sitting now in the edge of my bed - my bed - thick black calves hanging over the edge. I felt vulnerable. He was magnetically, sexually intimidating. I felt submissive in front of him.

I sucked on the blunt, eased myself onto Roland's lap, shooed his jackoff hand away from his cock, reached under the waistband and snapped off the hook and unzipped, I inhaled slowly, I fished out a very fat semi-hard jet black cock, I spread my big ass on one massive hard thigh, held onto his cock, pulled the blunt away from me face, closed my eyes to keep smoke from burning, waived the blunt around trying to get someone to take it, someone did, opened my eyes, saw Roland take down the whiskey and swish it in his mouth before swallowing.

I lay the left cheek of my face on his shoulder and felt his warmth.

"Mmmm baby, that was sweet." he put a hand on my inner thigh. "You sweet, too. Make a fine hoe. Sure you don't wanna leave this town, come work for me, bitch?"

I shooked my head violently in the NO position, then exhaled. "I already got me a pimp. I fuck who my husband tell me to fuck."

He laughed, "Mmmm hunn. Well, he tellin' you to fuck ME, hoochie mama. So how 'bout it?"

I stood up, bent over with legs straight, exposing my ass and pussy to whoever, and held his fat black cock in my left hand. I put my right hand on his thigh for support and swallowed what I could. The cock was too fat to go far with.

DeShawn watched for a bit as I made modest two-inch suck strokes on his brother's snake. "Mmmmmmm-hmmm!" I heard him moan. I moaned back.

DeShawn got up off the bed, dropped his pants and walked around behind me. Randy walked up and stood at the end of the bed to get a better view. Randy was stroking his cock as I could glance from the corner of my eye. 

I felt DeShawn massage my ass cheeks with his hands, then he took cock in hand and tapped underneath, tapping at my pubic bone with his cockhead. My thighs quivered a little from the muscle tension of my position.

"Yeahh, hey, can I put my manhood up yo' ass, bitch?" he asked. There was a momentary silence as the room waited my response.

I slipped Roland's snake out with a loud "squish" and said to Chuey, still leaning on my vanity, "Chuey, give him the Vaseline. You lather up with that before you pound my ass, DeShawn."

The room broke into giggles, and "yeahhs, ahaaaa!" 

I looked up away toward Roland, he gave me a big wicked smiled, showing a few white teeth and a partial grill, the front four upper teeth were gold. He stuck his tongue out and wiggled it at me and my pussy just throbbed.

"Gimme some mo tongue on my handle, Miss-uss J, I likes watching you stuff yo face wittit," he said. 

My sphincter was being probed with cockhead. I looked at Roland's abdomen and fitted his thick fuck tool in my mouth. DeShawn pushed and popped open the anal ring. "Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!" I moaned as he held still, his right hand squeezin into my asscheek like he was palming a basketball.

Randy's voice broke in from my left,"Yeahhhh, mmm Terry you look soooo fuckin' hot right now. Damn sweety, I love it."

I moaned back my response. I was just a moan, but the words would've been "Fuck you for helping me fuck up my life, you sick enabler."

I felt like such a whore. How could I not? I was getting doubled by two black men I barely, in MY bedroom, with my husband, two other men and a bonafide gangbang slut watching. DeShawn pushed, I moaned and salivated all over his brother's bat-hard black stick. Roland's groin had a powerful and somewhat unpleasant smell to it. He was rancid and musky.

DeShawn pushed and got a short stroke going. I sucked cock and got a short stroke going. Mine short because I just couldn't take it in it was too thick in diameter. Why DeShawn wasn't trying to impale me with all his force, I don't know.

Neither of them seemed like decent men to me.

Randy moved from the end of the bed, scooting across the bed with on knee on the mattress and his other leg hopping on the carpet until he was right next to Roland's right thigh. I felt him rub the sticky tip of his pink cock on my left shoulder tricep. I moaned something garbled that was basically, "Thank you for paying attention, at least I ain't in here alone with these two motherfucking bastards."

Of course, all anyone else heard was, "Mmmmmm umm ommmmm errrrr," and that drew a round of: "Yeah, bitch!" and "Fuck-in-A," and "Ohhh she loves it," from my loyal fans.

DeShawn's stroke was not altogether uncomfy, and once he was well anchored and mining shit - thank gawd he had a rubber on - he even had the courtesy to reach under and finger my clit and barren hole while he abused me.

I sucked with more vigor on his evil brother and tried to keep my own stoned-mind induced demons at bay. It's just sex, I told myself. What's the big deal. But my guilt-ridden Christian psyche was bound to play tricks.

"You're mine," a wicked and nonexistent voice echoed through my head. To which my conscience screamed back, "Nooo!"

Manny took advantage of Randy's repositioning to walk around the bed to the other side. He put his knees up behind Roland's head and, now naked, stroked his cock in my direct line of sight, should I happen to look up. I glanced his way now and then, but mostly I squinted and moaned as DeShawn pleasured my ass and pussy.

"Dammn," I thought, this was feeling good. I could get used to this kind of attention!

And the evil non-existent voice in my empty head echoed like the laughter on a Pink Floyd song, and repeated itself, "You're mine!"

My eyes watered. I had a momentary wave of self-loathing. I whimpered with mouth stuffed and tried to shrug it off.

This WAS so wrong. It was SO WRONG. I was being SO fucking BAD! But I sucked on that manwhore's fat hard snake.

Then I felt Roland reach under me and squeeze both of my hanging, ass-fuck-shaken, dangling tits. He held them steady and massaged at my nipples with thumbs.

What a picture. Ass-fucked, cock in mouth, hubby tapping his goo drops on my shoulder, Manny getting ready to skullfuck me next. 

Only Chuey was not in the picture. But I heard squishy smacking behind me somewhere and knew Imelda was working his cock, probably trying to get him hard again so he could join the others in tearing me apart!

"Tearrrr eeee," Roland growled, "Git on up here'z a lil' and poat yo hoein cunt on my dick, bitch!" He was pullin' my tits toward him and didn't let go. I released his stiff cock and submissively attempted to move forward. "Fuck, DeShawn give the woman and chance to get it right."

DeShawn stopped stroking but would not come out of my ass. I delicately lifted my legs, planting knees over the edge of the mattress and DeShawn's cock followed me. I lowered myself and Roland held his cock up and steady. I felt it splitting into my wet hole, but he was big and it was tight. "Oh fuck," I said and took some deep breaths.

I bent over and found myself in the classic double penetration pose, sandwiched between two hardcare ho-fucking, nasty men. I had visions of the DVD release complete with a TV ad campaign and a teaser clip of me climbing into "The Position" before the camera fades to black on them making penetration. Why not? Sell it to the whole fucking town. Price it at $39.99.

This position is the one I'd been training for for years, with my dildos and Randy's dirty talk. This position was the boot camp ordeal of gangbang sex. I thought I was ready. And in the first few strokes it didn't seem too bad. But one thing was different from any video I ever saw. All those double pens had the man under pinned under the weight of the woman and the action was controlled by the stroke of the man on top.

Roland was incredibly strong, and he had slid his ass off the bed. His feet were planted on the floor and he was anchored by his back and my weight leaning forward, my forearms set into his shoulders. Our faces were very close and he smiles and DeShawn resumed to ream my asshole. "Nnnnnnnn!" I groaned.

"Bitch, you ain't seen nuttin' yet," Roland said. And with that, he started his stroke. It hadn't occured to me he could stroke in his position. He could STROKE!

"OHHHHH fuck!" I howled. "Ohhh Ohhh OHHHHHHHHHH!"

When DeShawn pulled away, Roland pulled away. When DeShawn drove in, Roland drove INNNNNN! There was a sensation of extreme tightness, extreme impact and then two pistons recoiling to ready themselves for the next blow. It felt like battering rams. It was so fucking tight when the hammered inside in unison. 

Then they pulled away to allow me a moment of pleasure, then IN. Pain! Pleasure, Pain! Pleasure. The PAIN! of assault, stretching me to my limits, the pleasure of that teasing backstroke, just barely comfortable enough that I could enjoy the slide of cocks going away and teasing at getting out altogether. But then they CAME ... BAck ... IN .... DEEP .... HARD-HARD.

Out-out, in-in, hard-hard, tight-tight.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," I cried. And for the next Four-ty-five-fuckin' body-testing, incredible minutes, I was pounded. And I cried and whimpered and begged them to stop, begged Randy to make it stop. I felt a tortured, twisted, high-strung orgasm come on strong, I rode it out and cried some more.

No one was in a mood to have mercy on me. Not even Manny. 

"Please, baby," I begged my husband about ten minutes in, my first begging. "Baby," tears coming down my cheeks, "I've had enough." Sob!

"Please, baby, nnnnnnn! OH OH Owwwwwww, ... nnnn! nnnnn! nnnnnnnnnnn! buh-baby, sniff, nnnn it's so tight, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nnnnn um um ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shitttuh uhhuh."

"This what you wanted, bitch," Roland said.

And as the double fucking proceeded, relentlessly, mercilessly, it terrified me to realize that, in fact, everybody was taking direction from Roland. He WAS in charge! 

"Fok the bitch's ass, DeShawn! Let her know what this hoe-ins all about."

"You gonna BE my bitch, Tearrr-uh, uh huh. You gonna be my white bitch sex slave, aintcha," he growled.

I groaned a pitifull "No."

"What! fuckin' white slut. Tell this sorry-ass 'sscuse of a white woman how she spoze uh talk to me, Randy."

And with that, Randy, I don't know if he was just in character or for real, but he grabbed his leather belt and "Whack" across my back hard! 

"Owwwwwww," I howled.

My eyes stinging now, I looked up and my husband and he said, "You give the man the answers he wants, bitch. 

This is a fuckin gangbang, not a church picnic. Be a slut straight-up, hoe!"

I felt betrayed, but I got the message. I had broke a cardinal rule of dirty slut sex. Maintain the fantasy, be that nasty cock-starved slut. The pain and my paranoia about Roland had pushed me out of character. 

I submitted to ALL of Roland's insults.

"You my bitch now? Bitch!" he barked.

"Sobbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb, yuh yea yesss sirrr nnn!" I blubbered in between their cocks-pounding into me-eeee! "NNNN! I um ohhhhhhhhhh OH, love your-errr cah-cock nnnnn!"

Whatever they wanted me to say, I said it. But Randy hitting me and talking to me that way, knowing and plainly seeing I was pushed beyond my limits. They enjoyed hurting me, but Randy was too fucked up and in the grip of his own lust to care about my feelings.

It felt like a horrible betrayal. I would hurt from that for months.

About 15 minutes into the double penetration, my gut burned from using my stomach muscles to absorb the thrusting blows, I gritted teeth and sweated and shook and squealed like a stuck pig through those body-ripping in-strokes.

Manny could no longer wait. He grabbed my head and told me to open up. I dropped my jaw and he put his white cock in. 

I didn't need to work my head on it at all. Between Manny's stroke and the Roland-DeShawn hammers, the three of them were doing a great job of moving my mouth forward and back on Manny's cock. The sweat off my face dripped onto his cock and I shut my eyes tight and moaned on that prick for what felt like hours.

It occurred to me now why Roland was here. Of course some of Randy's closer friends has passed on this. They weren't experienced with gangbangs and while it was fun to talk about the reality of it was intimidating to them. They probably didn't want to be under to pressure of performing in front of other men, friends and acquiantances whose opinion they cared about, and performing with an agressive slut at that! Then there was the risk factor, the idea that their wives or girlfriends might find out.




Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 07



But Roland and DeShawn were experienced gangbang participants. It was even more obvious to me now that they were fucking me. The precision and ruthlesslness of their team motion was incredible. It hurt, but the also felt great. They maintained incredible tension between pain and feel-so-damn-good!

All I did from then until DeShawn shot his load was moan and squeal and cry, my jaw aching, my whole body aching.

I'm a big woman. But I wasn't strong enough for this, not in shape enough for this. This was hardcore. I tried to tell myself it could be worse. And it could have been worse. They could've been S&M bastards with torture devices. But this was baaaaad, in the sense that I was physically past exhaustion and in pain almost as much as I was in physical states of pleasure.

The waves that led to my orgasmic bursts were constantly interrupted by stabs of pain. I had a sense of this being penance. I had to suffer for loving the whore's life. It was like a sexual-religious flagellation, complete with long choruses of: "Fuck on it hoe, suck on it hoe, yeah, thasss how a hoe does it, thass a hoe fo' yazzz! Shit on my cock, slut, Damn, boy-uhh! Lookit that ass shake! Ooo shit fuck her up man. Uh UHHHHH fuggin slut's tits izz hangin' shakin' like a fuggin speed bag, yeah mmm slap that bitch's tits silly!"

Tits slapped, pinched, grabbed, stroked, sucked, so many hands, so many hands on me!

AT last, 45 minutes in, Randy, my sicko husband, was actually timing it, DeShawn pulled out cursing, "Fuckin hoe!"

And he yanked off his rubber, jacked off his cock a few strokes (this I couldn't see but I deduced from the obvious evidence, a few seconds later he was shooting his cum into the small of my back and on my ass).

I felt such a sense of relief. But it only lasted a few moments. Randy said, "CHuey, get in there!"

Alarm bells went off in my head, and I squealed a high-pitched, "nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!" on Manny's cock, humming sonic waves up his shaft to its root.

But Roland interrupted, "Hold up, Chuey. Manny, git back!"

Manny pulled away, I took a loud gasping breath. I was breathing hard and sweating hard and stinking of sex. All the muscles of my body were trembling.

"Ever body out," Roland commanded. "I wants be alone wit the bitch when I cum."

I yelled, "Noo! No Randy stays! Randy stays or I won't!"

"Or you won't what, bitch!" Roland barked.

I cried as they were leaving and making fun of me for being a big baby. I was struggling to free myself from Roland. He had gotten up from under me and had my on my back, my legs pulled up over his shoulders.

"I'm staying," Randy finally said after a long hesitation.

"No, you is NOT," Roland said, trying to rule to roost.

"Then this ain't happening," Randy said, holding his ground. "You in my house, Roland. My house, my wife, you do what you like, but she wants me present. That the way its gonna be."

Manny walked back into the room, hearing the yelling, walked behind Roland and put a hand on his shoulder. I watched with fierce eyes, ready to kick again. Manny said, "She's his bitch, Roland. Be a good guest and get yer nut off. She needs a rest."

Roland paused before speaking, he gave me a snear and then coughed.

"Fuck it," Roland said. He put his throbbing cock back in me and drove in like a mad jack-hammer. "But I gotta do what I gotta do to git my cum up this hoe's fuckin hole, man!"

"Nnnnnnn NNNN OH OH OHHHHHHHH, UHn Aaaah ... mmmm MMMMMMMMMMMMM!" I jibber-jabbered. He was a mean fat-cock fuckin' desperate to shoot his load now. 

It was a hellacious pounding. And I wasn't above blaspheming, "Oh fuck, OH JEEEZUSSSSSSS, NNNNN, shit, OH OHHHHHHHHHHH OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW GAWD MAKE IT STOP!"

I was writhing on the bedsheets, gripping blankets, my body shuddering, shattering, my poor slut pussy aching sore, so damn sore. But everything must end. 

He came. Came inside me, just kept pounding into the hole until he was spent, his powerful thighs that was spanking my ass so hard suddenly froze. He kept pounding after his load was all out and swishing around in my beat-up cunt. A storm had passed. It was just a storm. My body would mend. 

I cried, "Thank god, oh thank god."

"You kin thank the fuckin devil for this one, bitch," he answered.

Randy looked at me. Some kernel of kindness tugged at him. "You can have a 20 minute rest, baby. But Manny and Chuey wanna do you next."

I knew my condition. I felt a physically worn as when I had delivered my last child. It wasn't the same kind of body wearing down beating, but it was close. I didn't think I wanted anymore, but I was wrong.

Twenty minutes later, Manny and Chuey entered the room. I was sucking Randy's cock when they came in, I had just started as my husband's request.

I was put on my side and Manny sidled up facing me, Chuey got on his side behind and as gently as it was possible to do, we spooned. Randy knelt by my head and I kept my head turned up while he fucked my mouth and my friends - my friends - fucked me. 

It was much sweeter this way and these men were not mysogenists. There was no desire in them to make me hurt. We were past that.

As tired as I was, I responded to their care. I relaxed my mind and whimpered about how mean they were to me and they talked to me sweet and made me feel loved again and I gave them everything I had left.

Randy came first, all over my face and in my mouth. I told him I loved him. Then out of mischief, I told him I loved Manny more, "Fuck me Manny."

Randy deserved a little dig for beating me at Roland's request.

A spooning double-penetration requires the fuck-ee, that be me, to fold her legs up. I had my legs curled up and around Manny as he pumped my ripped up cunt. Chuey grunted and heaved hot air on the back of my neck. I enjoyed the closeness of their bodies, of the six hands touching all parts of me, my scalp being stroked and pulled by Randy, the others pawing wherever they felt like, my tits, my thighs.

It was incredible post-climax sex. My body was drained and the effort was burning me up, but their words of endearment were badly needed. 

"Good baby, my sweet hot wife, oh yesss, just a little more. I love you honey, I love you like this," Randy went on.

"Jusss a lil more, puta, que linda putita, caliente madrecita, mmmm Terry, you fuckin hot mamacita, oh yess, baby," Chuey ranted, his lips at the nape of my neck, licking, kissing, neck and the back top of my shoulders.

"This ain't so bad, is it sweet cakes?" Manny said. "Oooooo mmm hmmm baby doll, love yer pussy, yessss, dirty little cum drenched hole, uh huh, oooooo baby doll, you the dirtiest little slut in three counties? Aintcha now?" Manny said in playful interrogation.

"Yes, Manny," I said, my tears drying, my body responding, my soul sucked back from hell. "I am." 



Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 08



Preface: Before I start this chapter, I just want to mention it's been six months since I submitted my last story.

There's two reasons for that. First is I gave birth to a baby boy last September and that kept me busy.

Second is I did some soul-searching and didn't like what I saw about myself. The marriage years leading up to my first gangbang, I felt I could blame my behavior on my husband, on how he pressured me. But what I became after that, I can't blame on nobody but me. I done some things with men and women that is just plain evil and it don't square with the image of myself I wanted. Looking back further, I come to realize that even years before, I was dishonest with myself somewhat about the kind of woman I am. Well, it is what it is. 

Moving on, I start this next chapter four months after my first gangbang.

It was a Saturday morning in late November 2005 and I'm 30 years and four months old. It's the last four months I skipped because that was just a series of wicked weekends with wicked men and me willingly letting them abuse me in the privacy of my home.

But on this day I was with the church youth group at a car wash, helping with a fundraiser. I had not been involved with the church youth before I started fucking Randy's friends, but after that first gangbang I felt a need to spend more time in church.

This may seem strange and illogical behavior, but my guilt over my immoral sexual behavior grew as my domestic life got wilder and nastier.

I felt a need to balance out my karma by being more involved in church activities, kind of like Catholic girls that figure they can run around all Saturday night, then wash their faces in the morning, go to confession and say a few Hail Marys.

It wasn't just enough to get the kids to church Sunday mornings. No, now I was getting to church for Sunday evening service and sometimes even the Wednesday bible studies. I was more prayerful, too.

There was a lot of "Please help me Lord beat this sexual addiction. You know I don't want to, but I can't help myself. I love that wicked life. The flesh is weak! Oh God, have mercy on me."

Sigh -- me and my mixed up head. 

The youth director took to noticing I was being more active. Actually, five weeks after that first gangbang he came up to me after a Sunday evening service and asked if I'd be interested in being his assistant with the youth program. He could use some help corraling them antsy teens, as they had a tendency to wander off during structured activities.

This required some time commitment. They met every Friday evening for rehearsals for their music activities in the Sunday program. And they spent Saturday mornings together on various activities such as cleaning around the church property, visiting with other church youth groups and fundraisers.

I thought: "Thank you Lord for showing favor on me. I'm usefull for something besides whoring."

But that secret life I was living was roaring along. My Saturday nights, and even some Fridays were wicked affairs of drunken debauchery. I was getting sandwiched so much by double and triple cock action I was thinking of changing my middle name to mayonaisse.

Listening to the youth minister ask me for spiritually uplifting favors came fresh on the heels of a Saturday night not 24 hours old where Randy had three Mexicans, ''distant relatives of Chuey's'' he said, over to cock slap me.

They was heavy breathers all, sitting me on the sofa, I was riding atop one and sucking off the other two, turning my head right and left to swallow brown bazookas while the beaner I was riding chewed my bid ole' nipples til they was red and stinging.

They chatted some vulgar Spanish at me the whole time. I didn't hardly understand a word of it but I could tell they was thrilled to be having such a nasty time with a 'guera putona,' that's a big-time whoring, blonde-haired white woman. 

Well, don't they have a way with words!

I still dressed modestly in public - in fact, I dressed even more modestly than before. I'd become obsessive about my public appearance of modesty because more men knew what I really was and I got a lotta of lewd looks and rude comments at the diner where I waitressed the lunch crowd still, and around the trailer park where my activities where most obvious; the Saturday night gangbangs could get noisy and anyone passing by could see there was a lot of happy, low-life looking men going in and out my domicile.

Randy went to a lot of trouble to respect my wishes for discretion, though. He didn't want to lose a good thing after all the trouble he'd gone to, to turn his wife into a 'pass-around slut.' That was one of the easy references his friends had for me.

The men he brought around couldn't have any association with the social circles I hung around in. They couldn't be close to my family or my church world.

This usually involved inviting men from neighboring small towns, and that involved using his business contacts in the mechanics and drag racing circles. What I didn't know in the early months was that it also involved using Roland-the-Pimp's "business" contacts. Randy was bringing colored men to me that had paid Roland fuck a white trash MILF slut and Randy was passing them off as his own contacts!

But I figured that out two months into this activity when one of those black ballers came by during a weekday unannounced - knocked on my door on a Tuesday morning at 10 a.m. just as I was getting ready to head over to the diner! He offered me $50 for a blowjob and we got to talking and I realized Roland and Randy had been making income off of me and not telling! The bastards.

Well, I ain't stupid. I took his money, took his black ass in the bedroom and licked and sucked balls and cock for 20 minutes until he shot his jizz all over my face. We both left happy and I started making Randy give me a cut of the Roland connections.

I underestimated how many men would be fucking me. I had this idea in my head in the early days that it would never be more than maybe 10 men. I figured that becauase there was only about 10 men Randy was that close to.

But surprise! Men have their own lives to live. They have wives and fiances and girlfriends. They have people that they don't want knowing they're doing this kind of thing. So Randy's buddies were only occasional sex partners of mine.

And it wasn't always easy, I also learned, to organize a gangbang.

I was surprised to find out (I don't know why, I should have figures this out quick, it's common sense) that some men are too shy or modest or morally upright to participate in a gangbang. They don't want to perform in that way with other men looking. 

What with all these constant changes in the lineup, the number of different men that got the privilege of being intimate with Mrs. Teresa the church-going slut grew to 21 in the first four months!

Now, to my shame, I learned by some of the rejections we received that some men just don't fuck a "nasty skank that would fuck just anybody." I also learned to my hypocritical moral standards that some racist fucks won't put their extra precious special white cocks where a black man's been. I say hypocritical moral standard because look at me: a slut going to church!

Oh, I clung tight to my old life. I so wanted my friends and family to continue to think good things of me.

I desperately didn't want to disappoint them. But you can't always have it both ways. And that I was to learn soon enough.

Edmond, that was the youth director, was younger than me by a few years. He was 28, had been married nine years to JoAnne and she was 27 and they had a 6-year-old girl. From what I could tell, Edmond and his seriously overweight wife were lukewarm to each other in the sexual department. It was my guess all he got out of her was the missionary position, and then not very often.

I knew from her own lips that she disapproved of oral sex and I couldn't imagine her letting him give it to her up the ass. 

Now me being a slut, of course, I thought about these things when I was around him.

I was older than her, but easily better looking. So the idea of me spending extra time with Edmond soon appealed to my dark side. After a few weeks of working with him, I could see he liked to eye my ass and tits when he thought I wasn't looking, and even sometimes when he knew I was looking.

I did not wear revealing clothing in his presence, but I had my ways with my eyes and body language, of letting him know I enjoyed the looks he threw my way.

By the time I had got myself to that November car wash fundraiser I had been shaking me ass and tits in his face for near to two months. I was teasing him, discretely, but teasing him. I wanted to see how long it would take him to break down and make a pass at me.

I smiled at him long and often, gave him approving looks when his eyes wandered down to my chest, and when I got up and walked around at some youth activity, once the children were out of sight, I'd show my backside to him and bend over and rub my ass - the dress might be loose-fitting but the hands helped him see the sweet, lusty curve of my 44 hips and the inviting great divide of my ass cheeks.

At the car wash, I was in a loose-fitting pair of yellow shorts and a XX-large green t-shirt with printed letters across my 40D chest that said: 'Honk for Jesus.' But on this day, I left the panties and bra at home and, wouldn't you know it, I had an 'accident' with the water and got my chest wet.

The boys and girls in the youth group were wide-eyed at the sight of my soaked-hugging t-shirt and the shapely 40D tits - nipples and all popping out even more. There were immodest laughs at the provocative sight of me in a wet t-shirt, but my jugs stopped traffic and we made a killing.

Edmond was red-face for a while. And he struggled with trying to hide a boner. I flaunted my body in front of him like I never had before. The teens were whispering to each other at the obvious flirtations I made toward their spiritual mentor.

I even got in front of him once, bent over and stroked my ass crack against his hard boner. He was terrified we'd be seen and begged me to stop in a hysterical whisper. He was also terrified, I suspect, of cumming right then and there.

I had arranged for him to be my ride to the car wash. That was a tense ride for him, all horny to start the day and me telling him on the way to the car wash that I believed he wanted to have sex with me and that if that were so, "I'm willing and it will be our secret. I won't cause you no problems with your Mrs."

He squirmed! Didn't say anything, just turned beet red.

Well, naturally, he was my ride back to my trailer and I had arranged that no one would be home when we got there. On the way back, I took command. I was in cheerful spirits and feeling devilish. He protested weakly, but did nothing physically to dissuade me when on the way home I lay my hand on his hard cock. I unzipped his pants and gave him a gentle handjob while he drove us to my bed.

I kept gentle pressure on his cock so as not to force him to cum too soon.

We got to my driveway, Edmond's cumload still boiling in his ballsack. I smiled at him and said, "You can cum inside now."

He shook his head, his hands shaking, "No, Terry. I think I should leave."

I let go of his cockhead, confident of my power over him. "Suit yourself," I said, lettin him think he was off the hook.

Then I pulled up my damp t-shirt right there in the car in my driveway and showed him my big bare white titties, "but I'd rather feel your hard cock slidin' in between my buttered up titties, Eddie. Thing is, hun. The butter is in the kitchen."

He was gasping for air and turning red in the face again. Poor thing. I almost felt sorry for him.

But the obsession I had was an evil one, a strong one. I hated going to church knowing I was the most unworthy, most immoral, cheapest piece of trash in that congregation. I had a terrible need in me to bring this good man down, and to seduce him into wallowing in the same kind of filth I lived in.

I wanted to corrupt him, body and soul. I even had visions of him someday participating in gangbang sex with me and those whoremongers he thought he was so much better than.

I sensed he was helpless, consumed by his desire to taste forbidden fruit.

A demon grew inside me and I spoke with a powerful and sure gutteral voice: "Open your door Edmond. Get your legs moving up to my porch. You are going to FUCK me!"

He fumbled for the door handle. He seemed half in a trance, half in terror. He knew he was doing an terrible thing, breaking his marital vows with a common slut posing as a pious churchwoman. But he couldn't help himself. I grinned with glowing satisfaction as I watched him exit his car and march out with his weak knees and sweaty palms, hands shaking and heart pounding right up to my doorstep. I got out of the car as he watched me from my door.

I walked with a skanky sway, strutting my full-figured body shamelessly, smiling at him, my eyes bearing down on him. He stared back, transfixed, his pants zipper only half-closed, a leaking cock, rock hard, throbbing inside.

I reached him and took his hand, opened the door and led him in behind me. Once inside, I pulled off my top and embraced him with nothing on but my shorts.

We had our first kiss, lips open and tongues hungry to wrestle. His cock throbbed against my abdomen and he moaned as we sucked each others tongue.

I broke the kiss and smiled at him. I turned and showed him my back, my wicked tattoo. It was his first look at my tattoo. He didn't know I had one. He was instantly in shock, and no wonder.

I had it put on only three weeks earlier and the colors of the ink were still vivid. It was a hoof-legged red devil, legs straddled wide and hoofs planted at my kidneys. A donkey-sized cock hung across the lower third of my spine and dripped cum drops on the dimpled triangle Y at the top of my big white ass.

The horned devil smiled, his face between my shoulder blades. The whoremongers that fucked me loved taking me from behind, doggy-style, to watch the devil dance as their thrusting cocks shoved in and out of me, shaking my backside, my whole body in a slutty ass-slapping fuck frenzy.

"Oh god," Edmond said in a hoarse voice. "You, you're a she-wolf come to corrupt the flock. You, you're the devil's child!"

I purred a husky, "Rrrr, oooo yesssss!" I pressed my ass into his crotch, pinning Edmond the church youth director in all his fading holiness slipping toward the unholy, pressed him against the inside panel of the front door. "Yess, Eddie. I'm here to make you love whores!"

I was bent over, shaking my ass gently, seductively against his crotch. He moaned: "Noooo, have mercy. Oh, I shouldn't be here."

I stood up straight, spun on the ball of one foot and stared him down. "You wanna leave? Leave!"

He shut his eyes, and put a hand on the doorknob. He squeezed the knob but wouldn't turn it. He didn't have the willpower. I chuckled and slowly knelt before him.

"You're stuck-up wife ever suck your cock, Eddie?" I said while unzipping his pants. I jerked them down hard to his knees, grabbed that cock that poked out of his briefs and tapped his sticky pisshole against my outstretched tongue. "I thought not!"

I commenced to sucking him slowly, my eyes locked on his eyes. He was staring back, grimacing, probably thinking I was a filthy whore, which of course was just the thought I wanted going through his confused, stressed-out holy-rollin' head.

His prick was of a modest size. Fully hardened, it was barely 7 inches. But I was satisfied. I had his cock in my mouth and he would soon explode.

I didn't want him to cum too soon, so after a few tongue and lip strokes, I bit into the head to numb it.

Then I sucked some more, bit, then sucked some more, bit and so on, prolonging his delicious, wicked agony.

After a few more minutes of this, he was sweating and shaking. I stopped. He needed a break.

I stood up and walked to the kitchen, looked over my shoulder, and reached down and undid my shorts. I let them fall to the floor. I stood there naked before him. I felt like a majestic she-demon in my bare 5-foot, 7-inch 175-lb frame with my 40-36-44 curves bewitching this simple clean-living man.

I turned around to show him my round white ass, turned again to face him and put two fingers to my clit and rubbed, closed my eyes and moaned.

"You gonna put your sweet, consecrated cock in a whore's pussy now, Eddie," I said.

He just stood there, unable to protest. He didn't want to, but he did want to. I was the woman of his deepest, darkest fantasies, the one he wanted and the one he should NEVER seek. But now I was offering myself up to him unconditionally and in secrecy. His inhibitions were chained to some back room in his fucked up brain.

I hooked my finger beside my lips and waved at him to come to me. He gulped, pullled off his pants and briefs and walked like a dumb animal to the slaughter.

Once beside me, I took his hand and led him past the kitchen to the bedroom. The room was a mess but the bed looked clean and inviting.

I sat sideways on the bed, spread my legs, hooked his thighs with my feet and pulled his crotch to my pussy. He moaned and lips trembled. I grabbed his hard throbbing cock and slipped it into my moist hole.

"You know how to do this part, don't ya, church boy?"

He grimaced, angry at me for seducing him, pressed his hips forward and started a jerky little thrust-fucking motion. I felt his cock make sufficient progress.

"Yess, baby, yesss. Fuck Teresa. Oh, I'm such a nasty whore, aren't I," I said.

"Yesss, you are," he responded, his hips building momentum.

He found a primitive confidence, felt his sexual frustration unleashed. He began to enjoy it, despite his fear and trembling.

"Fucking whore," he grunted, pounding his cock deeper.

"Yesss, baby, I'm a fucking whore and I want your sweet white cock. Pump that prick up my nasty wet pussy! MMM, daddy minister! Fuck me like the whore I am!"

He thrust on, fucking with anger and a fierce pent-up sexual tension. He cursed his wife's name, blamed her coldness for his being so weak, called me a goddamm whore and I brushed away all blame.

"Yess, baby, it's her fault, it's my fault for being a shameless slut. I know baby. You didn't do anything wrong. Oh baby fuck me. Yeah, that's it. Oooo, that feels good, mmm yesss, yesss, oh yesssssssss!"

He pumped his cock in faster. I knew he was very close, surprised he had not cum already. I must've done a good job priming his cock with my sucking.

"Whore! I .. I knew you were a whore the first time I saw you, goddamm you," he cursed, still pumping into me, sweating, his eyes tearing up; he was hating himself for this, but I loved every second of his sexual torment.

He reminded me of myself about six months earlier, before my life went completely to the whoremongering Dogs. I thought, "Rookie."

I tried to avoid squeezing his cock with my pussy. He was too excited and I knew that would make him cum quicker.

He was going to cum soon, anyway. I just smiled up and him and rubbed my clit while he did the squishy pump-slide up my fuck hole.

When he came, it was a quick, short weak-ass series of pumping squirts. He was in tears, moaning like a baby, "What have I done?" he whined. "YOU! You damned slut! Demon woman!"

He spent himself inside me, then collapsed on the bed and sobbed.

I felt no sympathy. No urge to console him. I rubbed his sticky cock in my hand and licked off the cum while I watched him push his face into the warm sheets, listening to him moan, "Nooo."

Poor little angel had fallen. But this angel was my new toy. I was going to fuck with him, but good! 



Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 09



WARNING LABEL: Seeing as I keep getting complaints from a minority of readers who wander into my stories expecting refined erotic literature - as if! - I feel obliged to tack a WARNING LABEL on this chapter. This ain't "Literature."

I am not some cultivated geisha. I am not a college educated $1000 an hour Manhattan call girl.

I am barely college educated at all. I finished high school and took in 10 credits, mostly in English courses, at an east Texas community college. That's all the formal learning I've got under my glossy hot pink, two-inch wide vinyl belt.

My stories are my guilty pleasures, and yours if you're into tales about low-income, working class, country folk with low morals and self-destructive habits - not that all low-income country folk are that way but a shitload of us are.

My characters are shallow people because my friends are shallow people and so am I! I hang with mechanics, plumbers, bartenders, general contract laborers and an occassionaly drug dealer or pimp.

Our pleasures are simple and cheap. We watch trashy talk shows, drink cases of beer, and wrestling is a sport!

We've been known to cavort naked in the bayou, and we fuck like there's no tomorrow!

I'm not some dainty, paint-brushed, skinny Internet porn queen. I'm a working mama with real curves, stretch marks and broke-in breasts. I don't have a flat tummy and have given up hope of ever having one.

As a slut, I'm a late bloomer. I got the Devil's religion at age 30.

Some reader's express doubts that such a creature as I could exist or that my life would be an interesting read, yet somehow they don't have a problem with the fact that there are millions of "ladies" displaying themselves on the Internet doing hardcore porn, or that Jerry Springer marches up his stage an endless parade of women who make questionable decisions about what they do with their bodies and what they do with the men in their lives, or that domestic violence is epidemic in this nation and a ton of that has to do with sexual exploitation and the women that gladly put up with it.

I went through a phase where I was slutting and whoring hardcore for 20 months. I'm taking a break now, but I can tell you from my experience and from the women I've since partied with over the past almost three years now, there are sluts everywhere. Nasty bitches, and they're proud of it!

If any of these comments offend your refined senses, read no further. It don't get better. You're wasting your time.

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

"SPRING CLEANING AND A VISIT FROM IMELDA"

I was cleaning the house on a Friday afternoon, the week after I got that devoted man of God to fuck me in my bed and cry his guilt-ridden eyes out while his white pecker wilted in my pussy after cumming up my semen depository.

The special significance of that statement should be dissected into two parts.

First part, I was cleaning our single-wide trailer abode, not something I do every day or even once a week. It's more like once a month.

And on this occassion I was especially motivated - and not by the fact that my dear hubby had a "date" scheduled for me the next evening. My dates hardly notice the condition of our living quarters. They are too busy oggling my impure white flesh and poking their hard-ons into every hole I've got.

No, I was motivated by the Friday morning delivery of a package I had ordered off a cable TV shopping channel. 

Two bottles with orange scented liquid guaranteed to clean everything, magically converting my hog pen into a citrus scented, nostril pleasing, sparkling bright as diamonds, sterile environment fit for a country clubbing rich woman's baby to crawl around in. 

The box came. I said, "Yes!" I flirted with the delivery driver in my baggy house shorts and skimpy tank top.

I wiggled my wide hips in front of him like I was ready to throw myself on him, but just long enough to give him a boner, then sent him on his poor sexually frustrated way. Then I said to myself, "I gotta call the diner. Gotta call in sick. I'm gonna clee-eee-eeen!"

Now normally I'm a slob. Piles of dirty clothes and kids toys all over the house. Piles of junk mail on the kitchen counter, piles of dishes in the sink and on the counter and on the stove. Piles of beer cans around the garbage can. Dust and grime and dried food coated on counters, cum-crusted sheets and the stink of sweat, decaying food crap, and the musky aroma of semen. Grey windows, crusty, spotted faucets. The shit's everywhere.

There's even mold growing in every fourth tupperware tub of leftovers in the fridge, but everybody's got that problem, right?

Well, once awhile I gets me motivated. I just get so sick of it all. Gotta clean! And it helps if "motivation" comes Special Delivery in a package brought to my door rusting off the hinges by a sexy man in shorts. Oh, those hard, hairy legs! Mmmm.

Need I mention it? Cable shopping is inspirational. You should try it.

Second part: By Friday afternoon, I am in a state of heightened sexual anxiety. It wasn't easy resisting the urge to offer the delivery man a blowjob. But I made a promise to myself shortly after my first gangbang to avoid sex during the week. It's a promise I break occassionally - the Edmond affair with my church's youth director is a case in point - but most of the time I keep to it, especially with Randy.

That husband of mine needs to suffer once in awhile, don't you know?

Putting myself on a 'sex diet,' I believe, makes the weekend sex party more pleasureable. Instead of 'snacking' during the week, my attention is focused on what is going to happen to me on Saturday nights.

Saturday nights didn't always go well. Some of the men I was introduced to were lousy sex partners. I would request that they not be invited back, but that request was not always respected. But even a semi-hard cock is better than none when I haven't had any for seven days and nights.

Back to Friday, I'm working my broad butt off, bending over, getting to my knees, crawling on all fours, stroking this, rubbing that, sweating like a Mexican whore working a soccer team, and not a cock in sight. I was putting my fingers and rags into the most seldom seen netherworldly places: behind the toilet, under the garbage can, below the kitchen sink trap, along the running boards and a jillion other disgusting spots.

Wiping wallpaper, mopping linoleum, swiping window sills - all those moldy corners and cracks. Polishing pipe and in between it all catching up on load after load of laundry. Four hours of this and I'm plumb wore out when the phone rings.

It's Imelda, Chuey's better half. I'm beating her to the first word and going on about my cleansing experience, and inwardly happy 'cuz I've wore out my sexual anxiety. All the scrubbing just to get the obsessive mantra of "Gotta fuck, gotta fuck, gotta fuck," quieted down in my screwy head.

I'm back into my decent, righteous mind and she calls, which is mentally dangerous for me 'cuz she's liable to talk about some dirty sex. She's such a gossip about who's fucking who, so I'm not too eager to keep this conversation going. But on most occasions, I'd be greatful for her company. Since joining her circle of wicked friends, Imelda had become my most trusted counselor and a true friend. Most of the women that visited on our Saturday romps were true whores, girl sluts much younger than Imelda or me, and I could see Imelda was as uncomfortable with most of them as I was.

Most importantly, Imelda did more than anyone to advise me and help protect me in containing the influence of Roland the pimp. 

Roland, an ever-present malevolent force, had too much influence over my husband. Randy, I swear, looked up to Roland, like he was some fucking role model. And Roland was giving my Randy young black bitch pussy on the side whenever Randy wanted it. It was part of their arrangement that gave Roland a say in who I fucked.

I feared, personally feared, Roland. 

He had a way of dealing with me, talking to me and dominating my space that made me weak. I felt he could see in my eyes that if he were to force his will on me, I'd leave Randy some day to be just another one of his streetwalkers, just so I could - what? How did he make me want to take the punishment he dished out?

He brought the masochist in me out more than anyone and made me hate myself more than anyone. Imelda was the 'Angel' at my shoulder, balancing out the 'Devil' on my other side. She was my interceptor, helping to keep distance between me and that evil man.

My fear of Roland began with how he treated me on that first gangbang, and how intimidating he was not just to me but with the people around me. What made it all worse was an incident two weeks later. He called me up. I was alone. He was talking dirty to me, trying to engage me in phone sex. I would not hang up on him as I should have. I just kept listening to him and begging him to let me be:

"You gonna be my Ho, bitch," he said as if it was a foregone conclusion.

"Nooo," I whined.

"Yeahhh, I know you want somme more ah what I put up yo pussy, bitch. I knows a Ho when I seez one and I knows a Ho fo certain when I fuck her like I fucked you, Terry. You wanna strut yo shit in front my boyz, dontcha? Wanna give it away to alla the bruthas."

"No, nooo, leave me be, Roland," I'd tell him. "You fucked up cracker slut, getchyer big white ass ovuh here. I'm making a booty call on yer moneymaker, bitch!" he demanded.

He got me horny. He got me wet and begging him to stop, but I wouldn't cut him off. He just kept talking shit to me for 45 minutes and I just kept listening to it and getting weaker. It got to where I couldn't resist anymore and I gave in and drove to his place.

I dressed down to red bikini shorts, a pink tube top with a white mini-vest, red vinyl hi-heels, a push-up black bra and black thongs. Roland wanted me to show up looking like a ho ready for work.

Roland's place is a bar half-way to Houston, in the northeast suburbs. It's a 35-minute drive from my trailer.

The ground floor is a bar with pool tables. There's a second floor with six bedrooms, three on either side of a long hall that you reach from a set of stairs in the far back of the bar. You get to the stairs by leaving the bar and going into a storage room.

I kept thinking the whole way that he was going to imprison me in a room and force me to smoke crack until I was hooked. But then I'd reassure myself that it wouldn't happen that way, that he wouldn't dare mess with a woman from his hometown 'cuz a lotta menfolk close to him would retaliate. 

I must've been in a self-destructive state of mind. I can only explain the fascination as being like watching a horror movie and then wanting to be in the horror movie. I was obsessed with the danger, with the risk-taking, with the adrenalin and sexually charged excitement that came with being in the presence of true evil.

By the time I walked into the bar, I was ready to cum at his very touch. I had butterflies so bad I could barely stand. My hands shook, my knees wobbled, I walked like a baby fawn, wobbling into the cool darkness.

There were eight men in the bar, all black. I saw two black whores paying attention to two men in separate corners. Roland was playing pool with another black man. He turned and saw me as I walked in.

"Terry. See ya got over yo inhibitions. Mmmm, come ovah here my fine, hot white mama."

I wobbled up to him, shivering like a wet cat.

"You cold, Terry," he asked.

I shook my head no, tried to say something but words failed me.

Roland snaked around my waist - long fingers, hand, arm, pulling me to him and we tongue-kissed. His mouth and tongue were thick and rich as fine chocolate. He smelled of whiskey and marijuana. He spanked my ass, laughed as I jerked and pushed me toward his pool-playing partner.

"Get a taste o' this one, Slinky," he said.

Slinky, a tall and skinny mulatto, curled both hands on my asscheeks and kissed me for a long time. I gave in and felt the crotch of my shorts get wetter. I felt shame rise in my chest and I blushed as I let this stranger arouse me.

His cock hardened against my belly and I let him squeeze me tight. I was then gently shoved aside and they resumed their game. They left me standing there panting. There was money on the table. They were gambling over this game for what looked like a couple hundred dollars. They whooped and talked trash at every pool stick strike and realignment of balls. In the end, Roland lost and offered Slinky a choice, me or the money.

Slinky took the money, smiled at me, "No offense, bitch, but I gots rent to pay." "None taken," I said, matter of factly, but my pussy was aching with regret and my thoughts were in bed with devils.

Roland took my hand and led me into the back and up the stairs. We went through the first bedroom door I saw and it was a simple room, about 15 by 15 feet square with a queen size bed on a wooden frame, no backboard.

There was a closet door and a dresser, a green plastic mixing bowl on top and full of condoms. There were some used condoms on the floor. The walls were painted a pastel yellow.

"Strip," the pimp said.

I pulled off my top and bra. I shimmied out of my tight little shorts and he stroked his thick long black cock in his pants. I kicked off my hi-heels and he motioned me to get out of my thongs, so I did that and dropped them on the floor. I was naked and alone with the man I most feared. I never felt so vulnerable in my miserable life.

He instructed me to get on my knees and blow him. I did and pulled out his cock and sucked and I did my best to arouse him, not that that was hard. It went well for a few minutes, but then he took my head in his hands and started force fucking me, skull fucking me until I gagged and puked up a little bile onto the wooden floor.

I'd tell you the rest, but it's too painful for me to want to recall. Imagine how he treated me in my house with other men to watch out for me, and then imagine what he would do to me where I was alone and unprotected, with no one to hear my screams.

Roland likes to fuck women mean. He wants it to hurt. He likes to slap and curse and he takes it too far.

He had me crying by the 5th minute. He had me bleeding and bruised in the first 30 minutes. He was done with me after two hours. 

Did I cum? Yes. But his phone calls went unanswered after that. I couldn't bear the thought of being around him without a trustworthy chaperone. My fascination with him was still there, but my fear of him was strong enough that I never responded to another booty call. And I learned how to hang up the phone. 

I don't want to recall the sex, but I remember the drive home. Pounding the steering wheel, screaming at the top of my lungs with the music full blast, sobbing in shuddering heaves. "Why, why, why did I put myself through that," I yelled.

My motives seemed clearer in the aftermath. A bruised pussy, long scratches and welts and bruising on my tits, my neck, my ass and upper thighs. A flaming red and swollen left eye that would turn black in the coming days.

He tried to make me drink whiskey, smoke pot. I refused. I wanted to be in my straight mind. After the puking on the floor, after I was put on that whore's bed, once he had me stuck under him and taking his long fat snake, he called in a whore and had her light up a pipe and forced me to smoke crack. I inhaled. I had not choice. I was boiling with fear, cursing myself for thinking this would go any other way. He wanted to make me into her image in every way.

It was my obsession with evil itself. My terrible desire, like some bootcamp bitch masochist with a need to know if I could take it. How far could I take it? How much of him could I possibly want?

I fucked him on crack, my legs dangling off the edge of the bed. He was like a black boulder, pinning me down, humping my hole while my head exploded in evil euphoria, celebrating my damnation in one insanely long moment, then recovering my fear of losing all things good in the world and trying to claw back out of this slippery pit to hell.

The devil had a weighty anchor shoved up my cunt and it was dragging me down, down, down, down. He had his big feet rooted to the floor and my pussy in the fire at the edge of total slavery. He'd grin and squeeze his pot-yellowed dirty nails into my flesh. Fuck and squeeze, watch me squeal like the stuck pig slut I was.

It brought tears to my eyes that he KNEW that I SURRENDERED myself to him, KNOWING he would treat me this way.

He could make me cum! OMG! Those cracked-up hyperdrive orgasms were braincell blasting, body and soul excruciating sizzlers. I was electrified to fried.

Every twenty minutes or so, it was hard to tell, time expanded and contracted like a rubber band, the crack smoke was forced into my lungs again.

This wasn't love making in any sense of the word. This was a methodical transformation through constant fucking, pinching, slapping, scratching, addiction-inducing crack smoking, derogatory yelling - "Git bizzy Ho. Git yo ass moving Ho, fuck bitch, suck that pipe HO o' I'll blow it down yo lungs my own seff, bitch. Lazy fuckbitch, work it!

Un! You like that snake white bitch. You loves that snake white bitch. Who ya master now, cunt? Who is it!"

He was brainwashing me: mind, flesh and spirit wrapping themselves around the slavery he made feel so inevitable.

I was sinking and the escape hatch looked hopelessly far, far away.

If Roland had kept me there all day as he intended, I'd be his sex slave today.

But, thank my guardian angel, he was distracted by a scuffle that broke out in his parking lot that drew in the police. I tore outta there and never went back.

Never go back!

It took me a couple of weeks of self-imposed isolation and soul-searching to get that crack out of my system, but that's another story. * * * * * Back to the (Present):

Anywho, my problem with Imelda was her presence could be very sensual. I always envied her lean body and we normally enjoyed sharing all the dirty gossip about who fucked who, and comparing impressions on the sexuality of various men we had shared. 

Now, she claimed she just wanted to do my nails. She loved painting nails and she liked being with me. 

But her being around was likely to re-stimulate me and I had put so much effort into relaxing and NOT thinking about sex.

"I can't. I'm busy sweety," I protested on the phone. She wouldn't take a "No." I said, "no, no, no!"

She was bored and I was keeping a secret from her, "and girlfriend, curtain's gotta come up!" I threw the complimentary super microfiber cloth in the sink and trotted my sore, jiggly, stinking white body to the shower.

I was in a blue terrycloth bathrobe with my blonde hair wrapped in a honey colored towel, looking like a saggy beehive when Imelda walked through the front door, without announcing herself.

"You must think your family now," I said with a twang of sarcasm as I lay on the sofa resting. "Huh?" says she, standing there in the middle of my clean living room, surveying the transformation with wide eyes.

"You don't bother knocking or nuthin," I observed.

"Like you ain't gonna know it's me. Shit, bitch, this place is someplace else. Where's your trailer, Terry?"

"Hey, it would be the polite thing to do," I said.

"What?" She wasn't registering my annoyance. Then she did and turned her head toward the screen door; she hadn't closed the fake-wood door. "Fuck polite," she yelled. "I eat your pussy, bitch!"

"Dammit," I screeched in a low hiss. That got me up. I got between her and the door and closed it. "What, yer neighbors don't know yer a slut yet?" she said.

I hissed, "I got my angel in her room, Imelda." She made an eeK! face and apologized. 




Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 09



"Sorry, mama. I didn't mean to offend her ears. You know I love her."

Imelda couldn't make babies and she doted on my 10-year-old girl like a too proud auntie.

"She's watching her cartoons," I said. "She won't hear a thing, but mind yor manners, sister."

"So, whadda ya think?" I asked, smiling again and arms stretched out like I was presenting a symphony.

"It's really, really clean!"

"No shit," she said, pacing and arching her head about like a sand crane on a new beach.

What could I do? I gave her a hug and we laughed. The exchange of argumentative remarks upon her arrival had become a ritual, but the state of my abode took us to a new state of mind. We were refreshed.

We'd become best friends. I would like to think it was because I was the "high-browed, cultured one" in our Jerry Springer-esque group. Nobody else but me actually read. So I had things to say in drunken (or sober) conversation that incited sarcastic comments. I wasn't appreciated for my learning.

But I knew her respect for me came from the fact that in her eyes I was a good mom. She really respected how protective I was of them, despite all the challenges and complications added by my lifestyle.

She also admired me for getting them to church. She'd tell me about her upbringing and how negligent her family was toward her, how she was influenced by bad things at a very early age. She once told me I was the mom she should've had. She put her clutch bag on the table. It didn't look like it could hold much, but she had her nail kit there.

She paused and squirmed and asked me if she could visit with my little angel first. I consented and we walked down the hall to my daughters room, knocked and opened the door. She was as I expected, glued to her cartoon program. Imelda sat with her and they hugged and she sparked my chatterbox baby into a long, senseless stream of consciousness dialogue. I left them alone and went back to the living room to plunk my body down.

I had nodding off and was some 40 minutes later when Imelda disturbed me. 

"Um," I uttered, "you come here to see me or my baby?"

She showered my angel with compliments and the three of us went into the kitchen. Baby was gonna get her nails done, too. She got hers done first and then was sent back to her bedroom to admire them in solitude while Imelda and I got down to business.

Imelda started working my toenails, right foot first. "You need to confess, sister," she said. I had hinted to Imelda that something had started up between me and Edmond the youth director at church. But she didn't know he had fucked me.

"So, what's with you and that preacher?" she asked.

I twisted my face in discomfort. "Oh, I'm sorry I got involved with him."

"Already? Spill it, then. What's happenin?"

"I lured him to my bed last Saturday, after we did our car wash fundraiser."

"No shit? You fucked a preacher? Damn, that's gotta be a go-straight-to-hell sin, Terry." "He's not a preacher, okay. He's just a - a important leader in the congregation."

"Yea, yea," she said, waving off my point with her hand. "What happened to you? You was goin' to church to better yourself. To 'atone.' Your words!"

I fidgeted. "I know-uh! Duh! I just got weak. I got sick of 'his holiness,' and my 'unholiness.' I thought he was cute and fuckable and I couldn't resist." "So, you wanted to bring him down to your level instead of raising yerself up. I get it," she said and I focused on the fumes of green polish."

"But you ain't happy with him?"

"Oh God, no," I said. "He calls every day. He's too excited. He thinks we're having an affair. He don't know I fuck anybody besides Randy. I thinks I'm in an unhappy marriage 'cuz I threw myself at him. And he's in a very unhappy marriage and just obsesses over me. He's gonna get himself caught and this whole thing - I'm afraid it's gonna be a mess."

She put her hands together like a nun and said in demure voice, "You play with fire, Sister Terry. You get burned, bitch."

"And I gotta see him tonight," I said in a deflated tone. "We have youth music program rehearsal."

"Just don't go," she said.

"I shouldn't, should I?" I said. "No, no," I added, shaking my head. "I should go."

"You gonna fuck him again," Imelda asked. "I don't know," I said. "Sex wasn't good the first time, but he's outta practice. If he ever was in practice, I'm not sure. He could use some lessons."

Imelda grinned, shook her head and dabbed polish on my pinky toe.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm disappointed in you mama Terry. You a bad influence on a man of God. Gonna make him love fuckin you day and night."

"So what if I do," I said defiantly.

She looked at me and at her work. She'd finished my right foot. She slid her hand up my thigh until her fingers were playing with my labia and clitoris. She flicked at it until I moaned and squirmed in my chair.

"Whore," she whispered at me. 

"Yessss," I hissed back.

Then she turned her attention to my left foot.



Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 10



Chapter 10:

May 2006:

I walked into view of the broken glass of an abandoned convenience store facade. The sight of me there, like this, felt cruel and tragic. But I also had the sense of writhing righteously on the receiving end of poetic justice.

Here I was in post-Katrina New Orleans, a three-hour drive from home, looking for a prostitute to save what was left of my life. Looking for my own redemption through the improbable virtue and courage of another whore.

I felt fat and ugly and tired and depressed. With my big curvy figure, I look good in a dress, even a tight dress. But here I was in tight red denim shorts and a T-shirt and tennis. Pretty, dainty women have a pronounced slendering of the leg as the eye moves south of the hips. They have calves so dainty they look

like they're standing on sticks.

I don't. My thighs stay thick to the knee and my calves are stocky. My belly sways out and it's obvious I am a woman that's been through childbearing, and far from ever recovering a flat stomach.

The glass was shattered but mostly intact. My image in it was likewise fractured but somehow intact. I had been feeling intense shame for weeks - both for what I had been caught doing and for the judgment that followed.

I should bring you, the reader, up to date. My affair with Edmond the church youth director began the previous fall. It lasted all of ten weeks. Edmond was a difficult lover to keep in line. He was nervous all the time about getting caught, guilt-ridden about having the affair, obsessed about me and taking too many chances.

He was calling me from his home while his wife was there. He was looking at me too much at church in front of witnesses. The youth under his direction were spreading rumors. Finally, his wife confronted him and he melted like butter under the heat. He confessed everything.

In a way, I was relieved at first. He wasn't a good lover at all. He was too tense, just wound too tight to have fun with. But my relief soon turned into a nightmare.

His wife JoAnne, it turned out, was an extremely vengeful and cunning woman with the financial means to bring me down. She wanted revenge and she hired a private detective to get it. She forgave Edmond, but I was immediately banished from the youth program. I was just a congregation member on thin ice and suddenly with no friends.

Everyone stopped speaking to me and it was very uncomfortable going to church with my children. 

My father and mother called me to their home and confronted me. I admitted the affair and begged forgiveness, but I admitted to nothing else. They were very disappointed with me and it hurt to see the disgust on my father's face.

The Saturday after JoAnne hired the detective and two weeks after I was outed by her foolish husband, Randy had three men over. My mom, now not speaking to me, would not babysit my children. My sister turned me down, too. I had never allowed my babies to be at home during my excursions into depravity, but now I was in a pickle.

The female neighbors immediately around me would have nothing to do with me and I didn't want the kids there while I was getting passed around. So me and Randy had words. He called his sister and she came by to pick them up and spend the night with her.

I didn't know these men but they were all black so I assumed - and asked - if they were contacts of Roland's.

It turned out they were, so I demanded money. It came to $210 dollars to have me for the night and we split it three ways with Randy holding Roland's cut.

I didn't feel like smoking or drinking that night. With all that was going on with family and church, I went at those blacks sober. And Randy didn't even watch. That was one of his favorite things was watching me get gangbanged, but he "had to see Roland right away."

I was surprised by that. And I was left alone with the customers and feeling neglected and abandoned and just plain lonely.

I don't remember their names and I don't care. Let's just call them Old Fuck (one was gray-haired and lean), Fat Fuck (one was about 5'-11" and over 250 pounds) and Hunky Fuck (the third one was a stocky, muscled 6'-1" tall

ex-college running back).

I greeted them on the front deck in an obscenely short miniskirt and open blouse with my titties hanging loose, no bra on my Big Dees. I was barefoot. They were hugging me and grabbing ass. We went inside and waited for Randy's sister while I gave them beers and chatted. No sex, just friendly chat.

Randy's sister got there about 30 minutes after the men. I went out with my children and loaded them into her car, still dressed - but as described, barely dressed.

When I went back in, the money was exchanged and Randy quickly made his departure. I turned and faced my company.

"Let's git started then," I said as I looked at the task ahead. "You boys want some cocksucking, dontcha?"

"Uh, hell yeah, mama," Fat Fuck said.

We were in the living room. I waved with both hands for them to stand in the center of the room. I took off the blouse and miniskirt and tossed them casually on the lounge chair. I went to my knees on the carpet and they all pulled out their cocks. Fat Fuck was hard, the other two were semi.

Fat Fuck stood center and I swallowed his black snake while I grabbed soft cocks and jerked them in my soft sweaty palms.

"Yeah, umm Roland was tellin us you a hot gangbanger bitch. That true Teresa?" asked Fat Fuck. He turned out to be a talker. 

I nodded yes, uttered a hungry "mmmm-hmmmm" and sloshed my spit back and forth on his snake, my nose picking up the funk of unwashed, sweaty balls from every direction.

The living room curtain was pulled back and anyone looking from the direction of the front deck would have had a view of this, what with it getting dark and we had the light on. But that wasn't on my mind. Being discrete around my immediate neighbors was something I had given up on awhile back.

I patiently did what I was there to do. Not feeling particularly horny about it, either. Just a mild tingle. I had no urge to reach down and finger myself. Besides, I didn't have enough hands for that!

The Old Fuck started stroking my dirty blonde hair and I felt an appreciation for that and slopped Fat Fuck's cock out and turned my attention to Old Fuck cock, which was nice and hard now. Old Fuck had the largest member, a good 10 inches and thick. The other two were thick but shorter - about 6 inches for Fat Fuck and just over 7 for Hunky Fuck.

"Yea uhhh, slobber on that old black dick, yea white nigga-love ho," Fat Fuck said. I couldn't tell if he was just being rude or impatient for having to share my mouth at that moment.

Fat Fuck jerked his in a way that slapped head on my ear. He was getting my ear sticky. Old Fuck had sad eyes and I found them entrancing. I sucked him with a growing passion and felt my heart bloom with warmth for the first time since I had hugged my kids before breakfast.

I felt Hunky Fuck pull away, so with that hand free I palmed the knob of Fat Fucks cock and thumbed the piss slit and swirled my thumb around the sticky head. Hunky Fuck kneeled behind me, grabbed my wide ass and lifted

me. He was STRONG!

Hunky Fuck was in a squat position. He put a stool under him to sit and put me on his lap. My only contact with the carpet was with the balls of my feet but I did have some leverage with that. I let go of Old Fuck's cock and worked it only with my mouth and I reached between my legs and put Hunky Fuck's cock in my pussy.

I moved on him and turned my attention to Fat Fuck. I began swiping at both cocks, holding them close together, mouth open and wet lips and tongue washing cockheads like a windshield wiper.

About them my pussy got blazing hot and I was liking this. Liking this intensely. Fat Fuck started a steady stream of "work it bitch, work yo slutty body, yeah mama, yeaaaa uh huh mama, suck on that mmm you like to move it cunt, like having all this black cock to yo-seff?"

"Uhh hunnnn oooommmm umm," was my sincere reply.

I worked for them. I wanted them to stay hard. I was now in the moment. Oblivious to the open window, to the neighbors, to my parents' disapproval, to the criticizing eyes and tight-lipped mouths of the church congregation,

the people I had thought of as my sweetest friends for all my life.

My pussy squeezed on hard cock, my mouth greedily sucked and bobbed on one cock after another, the Old Fuck's hand in my hair got tighter, his need more urgent, my willingness to help them cum more open.

I must have been a sight. My lipstick smeared across my face like it gets when I get nasty on cocks. My thighs sweating on his hard bucking thighs. My Fat Fuck flicking precum strings on my left ear and me wondering why he liked doing that. But it was hot - him dirty talking me through it and creaming my ear.

I turned my head and sucked on Fat Fuck cock. Old Fuck lowered himself to one knee and fondled my shaking big tits. Old Fuck lay his cock across my thigh above the knee. I reached down and held it and he kissed me on the cheek - not open mouthed either. He kissed me sweetly on the cheek like he was kissing his daughter and

I felt a flood of emotion.

My daddy shunning me at this moment and here was this old black man seeing me like I was special, something more than a whore. I had Fat Fuck's cock in my mouth but my eyes locked on Old Fuck. Older men were more appreciative, weren't they?

I held Old Fuck's cock tight in my right hand, squeezing it. My eyes started to well with tears and I wondered what was happening to me. I felt a judgment day looming. I felt like this was the start of a new and much harsher chapter in my life.

Then Hunky Fuck slid his hands off my hips and around my stomach, embracing me in a strong hug, he heaved off his position and took me with him forward and up. The balls of my feet left the floor. My god, he was strong.

I swung my feet up and back and planted the soles on Hunky Fuck's knees. My mouth was pulled away from Fat Fuck's cock, but somehow I held onto Old Fuck's in my grip. Old Fuck rose with us.

Old Fuck took my hand and peeled off my grip. Hunky Fuck said, "Dad?"

Dad (Old Fuck) stepped between my thighs and Hunky Fuck lifted me a few inches higher. Old Fuck put his arms under my ass and took over the lifting. Hunky Fuck inserted his cockhead in my asshole and started pushing in until he had about 4 inches of it in.

"Thasss what I'm talking bout!" Fat Fuck said as he stood to one side jerking his cock.

Hunky Fuck then helped with the lift, his arms tight around my stomach and ribs. Old Fuck (Hunky Fuck's dad, apparently - and now I was wondering if they were all family; Fat Fuck did bare a resemblance to Hunky) shoved his long hard cock up my pussy.

Between them, they bore my weight and began to move. I hiked my thighs up and dug the balls of my feet around mid-thigh of Hunky's sturdy legs. They were like smooth oak trunks.

They moved their cocks up and down in unison and I moaned, now confessing my love.

"Oh yessss! Oh I you're boys are treatin me too good. Fuck a slut, I'm LOVinnnnn this! Oooooooo oh OH! OH daddy! Mmmmm, uh huh, uh huh, UH HUH. ohmygod yesssssssssssss nnnnnnnnnnnnnEEEEEEE!"

Hunky Fuck was stabbing asshole, pinching a nipple and biting into my back, calling me a devil whore, commenting on my Satanic tattoo. Old Fuck wanted to know if "you is a dirty white girl?"

I was saying anything I could think of to keep it all coming. "Yess mmmmm oh daddy I'm so dirty you wouldn't belIEVE this shit I'll do for you, fuck me fuck me. Oh yes daddy I love you I love your cock I love your son's cock oh it's so fuckin hot you being family sharin a whore I dont git this kinda action never. Mmmm fuck me,

fuck me. Ooooo yes baby I'm a Satan loving white trash slut, mmmy fucking ass is so hot for that big cock!"

As big as I am, I felt light in their arms. Four strong black arms holding me in the air, pumping horny darky cocks up both holes, using me like I needed it. They came, first the son then his father. They shot their gooey semen up my asshole then up my ravaged quivering pussy. I came with the father, I came screaming, "I love

you!"

But I was thinking as much about my own father when I said it. There were wires crossed in my head. I was working through my regret and loving the doublefuck all in one orgasmic shout.

They came and hugged me tight, then lowered me to the floor. I stepped into the wet pool of my own juices, my juices and their dripping cum, soaking into my old stained carpet. I looked at the carpet and moaned. It stunk of cum. There had been so many accidents over the past several months that I wished I could tear it out and

put in tile.

Fat Fuck ordered me to my knees. He was sitting on the sofa by now and he wanted to give me a facial. I knelt and sucked his cock until he came, which only took about another five minutes. When he was ready he told me to

"Move ya head back, Ho." I obediently pulled away but not too far back, opened my mouth in the obligatory slut for a facial position.

He jacked his cock and out it came. His aim was off, though and the cum splattered my neck and titties.

Right then, I heard Randy's pickup pull up. Without thinking, I stood up and went out onto the front porch deck butt naked and cum dripping across my chest.

He got out of the truck with a slender-built blonde dressed like a slut. She was in tight short shorts and a tube top. She was blonde and looked familiar. When she got half-way to the porch I recognized her and I was shocked.

It was Ruby. Little Ruby. I used to babysit her when I was in middle school and high school. I first started looking after her when I was 13 and she was 5. I babysat her a couple times a month for five years. Her family went to our church and she used to be in the youth program. Now she was 22 and had been absent from church for nearly a year. I had wondered what happened to her.

"Ruby! Ruby what are you doing here?" I asked, and then suddenly felt self-conscious that I was naked on my porch and dripping cum.

Was she going inside? She would see them! Why was she dressed like a whore? I had never seen this side of her. We had not been close in years, but we did chat socially up until the time she disappeared.

She seemed not at all shocked by my present condition, which filled me with a new wave of alarm. Poor Ruby had surely been sucked into this lifestyle. She hugged me as dirty as I was and got cum on her tube top. She smelled it in the darkness and asked, "What's this?"

"Oh, I AM SO sorry, Ruby." I said.

She ran her finger across my chest and said, "Ewwwwww!" like a Valley girl. Then licked her sticky finger and giggled.

"You know about me?" I asked her. She giggled again and then laughed loudly.

"Teresa, my babysitter. I followed in your footsteps!" she said.

"Oh no you didn't! I never set this example for you. Don't say such things!"

I remembered that in her late teens Ruby seemed to go through boyfriends like runners go through water bottles. I decided to confess.

"Ruby, I'm whoring. I'm a prostitute."

She smiled and said, "So am I. I work for Sam."

"Sam, you mean Roland's brother Sam?"

"Yes."

I shook my head disapprovingly.

"Hey, who are you to judge? You work for Roland."

"I do not! I work for myself, with my husband's help."

"You're husband is just an agent for Roland and you are Roland's whore by extension, Teresa."

I sighed. "I guess you're right. But what are you doing here?"

"I was fucking your husband. Do you mind?"

I felt a twitch of anger, but it passed. "No. I know he likes to taste something younger, something skinnier once awhile."

"Anyway, I asked him if I could see you, so he brought me over," she said. Then she looked through the window and watched my customers sitting in the living room watching football on the TV. "Your customers?"

"Yes. Roland sent them over. I haven't worked these ones before. They're all family. The Old Fuck, he's daddy to the other two."

"Hot!" she said.

"YEahh!" I rejoined. We looked at each other and smiled. "It's good to see you Ruby. Although I would never have guessed it would be under these circumstances."

We went in and sat with our guests, me with the Old Fuck on the lounge chair and Ruby between the brothers on the sofa.

One hour and three rounds of beer later, the black menfolk wanted more. Ruby striped naked and sucked off Hunky Fuck and his dirty talking brother. I took Old Fuck to my bed and we had sex in the missionary position.

About 1 in the a.m., the men headed for their car. Me and Ruby walked out onto the lawn to see them off. We were both still naked. Then we sat on the steps of the porch in each other's arms and got caught up.

Ruby, it turned out was extremely promiscous in high school. After graduation, she tried working an honest trade for a living. She was a desk clerk at a motel. But the opportunity for sex appealed to her nature too much and she started accepting cash offers from guests to go to their room.

"I still work at the motel," she said. "I been whoring for two years now."

*****

Two weeks after that night, my world fell apart. I had been having a prolonged sense of dread. It wasn't woman's intuition so much as a personal reckoning. I looked over how I had acted, who I knew that knew what. I started putting it all together in my head and was certain that the incident with Edmond and his wife was just the first shoe dropping.

It all came down on my on a Thursday the first week of March 2006, just eight months after and had agreed with Randy to start fucking other men. It was a school day and the children didn't come home. They weren't on their buses. I worried and went to the elementary. The principal, stiffening at the sight of me, called me into her office and told me a Child Protective Services worker in the company of a constable had picked up my daughter just after the lunch period.

At the time my daughter 10 and was finishing 5th grade. My son was 12 and in middle school. I called there next and the same thing had happened to him.

My stomach heaved. My heart stopped. My nerves shattered. I thought, what do "they" have on me? I teared up and felt God's judgment. I thanked her for sharing with me what details she had, which wasn't much, and left. I drove to the CPS office with my heart in my throat and had to endure the pent-up rage I didn't dare release when after waiting an 30 minutes in the outer office I was told I would have to come back tomorrow.

That night I was a screaming machine. When Randy came home I blamed it all on him. I knew, I knew, I knew that it was my fault, but he didn't protect me from myself and he could have he COULD have. But the wickedness in his own heart contributed. I had visions of me never getting my children back, of me with my heart tore out and not caring about my life and just throwing myself into Roland's arms with his crack pipe at the ready to take away all my pain and me blown out of my mind with my legs open fucking everybody until the Angel of Death came for me.

I screamed. I barely remember talking beyond explaining in a crying stutter that our children were gone. I was mostly just throwing things. And I did not know up until that moment that I could throw an XBox across the living room, through the glass window and across the porch deck, and still another 15 feet into the front yard; it landed in the children's wading pool.

I didn't sleep that night. I was a wreck when I went to the cPS office. But self-conscious of the possible reasons, I went dressed as modestly as I could. No makeup whatsoever. I wore dress slacks with low-heeled pumps, a long sleeve, loose-fitting blouse buttoned up to the neck, and a blazer. No jewelry.

They made me wait two hours. When I did get in to see the social worker, I was a fidgeting, jittery mess. But I set my jaw hard on her and said, "I don't know why you've done this but I want my chidren back and I'll do anything I have to do get them back. I love my children. Can't nobody, NOBODY can say I don't love my 




Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 10



children!"

But it was bad. It was real bad. She was very stiff with me. I could see she was hostile. She barely looked at me and when she did, she was squinting her eyes and stabbing them into me with so much anger. I didn't understand

how someone I never met could take such an instant disliking to me.

She started off by explaining that my children were safe and were going to stay that way. She explained there would be a hearing and gave me the date. Every time I asked when I could see them, when I could be with them, she just went on about their procedures and about how I could not see them. I insisted again, I wanted to see

them and what did I do to deserve this. 

And then she rose from her seat and burst.

"Mrs. Jackson! How, how can you ask me that? You are going to pretend you do NOT KNOW? Let me tell you something, you filthy cow, I am going to recommend to the judge that you NEVER see them again. I am going to recommend to the judge that your parental rights be terminated, permanently. You are an unfit mother. You are - my God - you are beyond redemption. I don't believe there is any program, any amount of counseling or reform that could could br-bring you back those precious babies. 

"What you expose them to, what you allowed your home to become! As we speak, the Jefferson County sheriff's office is preparing charges of prostitution against you. Three counts of prostitution."

"And I'm sure that's just the tip of the surface. You sick bitch! Fucked-up person. Get out of here! Get out of my office!"

I was shattered. I couldn't see, the tears blurred my eyes. I got up and walked on rubbery legs as quickly as I could out of her office out of that building, away from the avenging eyes of my God's righteous soldier, away from the hand of my executioner.  

I sat in my car and cried.

****

Two days later, I received a phone call from the sheriff's office. The warrant had been issued and I was being asked to come in to be booked. How civil of them. I got my sister to give me a ride. Got photographed and fingerprinted and arraigned. I sat in county jail for three days, making no attempt to post bond or to call anyone.

On the morning of the fourth day, they let me out on my own recognizance. Apparently, they needed the space I occupied for someone else, or something.

When I got out, I went home and looked at the damage. I hadn't cleaned up since my screaming jag with Randy. I decided I didn't want to be there. My sister wouldn't take me in, but I had an aunt living on the coast who would. I was packing my things after she said she'd welcome me when my father drove up. 

I knew he knew about the prostitution charges. My sister had warned me. He marched up the stairs, across the deck, burst through the door and into the bedroom and without a word or a stutter in his step and mowed me down.

He shoved me against the dresser, slapped me across the face so hard my ears rang and then he grabbed my hair and threw me to the ground and started kicking me in the ribs and legs. All I heard was, "Whore? Whore? Whore?" in a whiny question-marked style rising pitch. 

And then it was over. That quick. I heard him panting. And then he walked away slowly, almost dragging himself out.

I remember saying, "I'm sorry, daddy I'm sorry." I had trouble breathing. He had broken a rib. 

Packing took longer than I expected. But I got myself together sort of. And drove to my aunt's. And there I stayed until the date of the hearing.

It was a preliminary hearing. The CPS agent was true to her word. The judge agreed to keep my children in state custody for the time being, but he did talk to me directly. I couldn't get a read on him, but he didn't cut me off or make ugly faces when I begged to have my children back and promised to do anything I had to to be with them.

Then it was over and more waiting. And more depression.

****

But thank Satan for the wickedness in men's hearts. There was hope for me yet.

The Child Protective Services office, it turned out, depends on the District Attorneys office to prosecute unfit mothers. The assistant D.A. at the first hearing was a woman. But for some reason, the case was transferred to another assistant D.A. This one was a man and he gave me a phone call, which as I suspected was unusual. 

He introduced himself over the phone and asked me to come to his office. So I did.

When I got to his office, I didn't recognize him. He asked me if I remembered him. I said he looked familiar, which he did. It turned out he was in my American History class in the 10th grade. And that did refresh my memory.

"You sat in the seat to my right," I said.

"You DO remember," he said, a smile spreading.

"And as I recall, you'uhm, liked checking out my ass," I said.

He let out a small laugh and admitted he had a crush on me for awhile. I looked at him with renewed hope and said, "You can get my children back to me, can't you? I'll do anything you ask, anything."

And with that (I was modestly dressed, wearing a long, loose-fit dress with a camisole and low-heeled pumps with pantyhose) I reached between my legs and pulled the dress up high, offering him a look at the crotch of my pantyhose.

But he shook his head.

"Terry, thanks for the offer, but it really isn't that simple. There are very serious charges against you. Charges of aggravated prostitution. You have the unfortunate luck of revenge working against you. Someone, I am not at liberty to say who, hired a competent private investigor. 

"There is admissable evidence and eye-witness testimony that can convince a judge you operated prostitution activities inside your home. That you ran, basically a brothel, in the house where your children were living."

"No!" I shouted. "Not when they were there. I'll admit to the whoring but I never, never did nothing bad in front of my children. I always would keep them away when any of that was going on."

"We have witnesses to the contrary, Terry. And who do you think the judge is going to believe. You or them?"

"JoAnne," I muttered under my breath. I teared up and apologized for yelling.

"I don't wanna lose my children. Please! I'll do anything. What can I do?"

I pulled down my dress and pressed my knees together. I got off the chair and knelt in front of him. I kept thinking, he's still a man. He still wanted me once.

"I can't get your kids back, Terry. You'll never get your kids back. But there are some things I can do. What CPS is recommending, and what the judge will agree to IF we, if I advocate the hardline position of CPS is this: terminate your parental rights and put the children up for adoption with couples that will never have

any contact with you.

"Please get back in your chair, Terry. God. What happened to you that you've come to this?"

He shamed me with that and I returned to my seat.

"There is an alternative, a position I believe I can get the judge to agree to that would be easier on you. I can recommend your parents be appointed guardians and that you be allowed visitation. But, again, you'll likely never get custody. But you'll only have limited, supervised visitation, and then only if you do a lot of things right."

I let a silence pass between us. Absorbing the idea that getting custody was not even on the table, ever, was hard.

"What do I have to do?" I asked.

"First, don't fight the prostitution charges. The evidence on you is overwhelming. If you put the state through the expense of a trial, you will get convicted and you'll get a hard sentence, at least 18 months in a state

jail. Second, you have to leave your husband."

"I already did. I've left him," I said.

"Good. And you can never engage in prostitution again. No more!" he said.

"I won't," I promised, my head shaking no in repetant conviction.

"You'll have to go through drug-screening every month. YOu'll have to get into parental classes and counseling. And you cannot afford to get into any more trouble with the law."

"I'll do everything, I swear," I said.

Then he bit his lip and said, "There's a couple of unorthodox tasks, things I'm not really supposed to make a condition, but ... uhm."

There was this pregnant pause, he waved his hands over his desk like some magician trying to conjure a rabbit up out of the paper debris pile he had there. 

"You know a Miss Ruby Trenton?" he asked.

"Barely. Um. I saw her a few weeks back, but I hadn't seen her before that in years and I haven't seen her since," I said truthfully.

"Her parents, they go to your church. They know you, know of you, your situation," he said.

"I don't get it. What's this to do with me? With my getting ... seeing my children?" I asked.

"They haven't seen their daughter in two years, Terry. But in your, our file on you, I see you had this contact with her under, well it lends credence to their accusations," he said.

"Their accusations! Hey, I didn't ... what are we talking about!"

"Mr. Trenton, and his wife, they believe that you had undo influence on their daughter, that you still have influence over her, that you were possibly her mentor in the life she is leading." he said.

"Fuckin' hell! Excuse me, but I, okay just because I used to be her babysitter - I'm sure they told you that." I said.

"They did," he said.

"I was just an innocent girl in those days, I swear on a stack of bibles. Looky here, I didn't have anything at all whatsoever to do with how she turned out and we never was together with men but that one time. That ONE TIME!" I insisted.

He took my words in and pulled on his chin, but then he shook his head.

"Terry, I don't believe you. I'm sorry. I don't. It just don't add up. This is my condition. YOu go see Miss Ruby. You get her to see her parents. You get her out of that life. If you can't do that, I ain't helpin ya." he said.

I felt doomed. I didn't even know where she lived. And she was obviously happy doing what she was doing. How could I convince her to change. Even now, with all the shit I was neck-deep in, I didn't want to stop fucking around. I could give up prostitution, but I couldn't very well give up men.

"Why do you care about her, about them? Why does that have to affect me?" I asked.

"Mr. Trenton is family. He is my uncle on my mother's side. Ruby is my cousin. I was asked to intervene, if there was anything I could do," he said.

I nodded and felt and cold shudder of bloodlines entangling me in adventures I would have preferred not to have.

"Is there any thing else," I said with a note of sarcasm.

"Why yes, there is," he said. 

And with that, he stood up, walked to his office door and locked the handle, walked back to stand in front of me and and unzipped his pants.

"I thought you wasn't interested," I said.

"Business before pleasure, Terry. Now git yer cocksucking mouth doing what it does best."

I took his cock, semi-hard but stiffening quick, in my right hand. I reached in my purse and got a small bottle of hand lemon-scented lotion and worked a glop of it into his cock skin with both hands. I wanted to show him special attention.

I pulled up my dress again and let it lay high enough that most of my thighs were exposed. I reached behind me unzipped the back of my dress, pulling it down off my shoulders until the whole fabric of my dressed was bunched in a pile around my waist and tummy. I undid my bra while he held his lotioned cock in his hand.

Then I resumed holding his cock and kissed it over and over. He told me about how he used to dream of me doing this for him in high school and how he wished he had me sucking his cock when I was in the full flower of my youth.

I lied and told him I wanted to suck his cock then, but I was shy in those days.

"Maybe if you had asked," I said, "you would have gotten lucky."

Then I swallowed the full length of his shaft and worked it in my mouth until his self-righteous jizz went jet-skiing down my throat.

******

That evening, I caught up with Sam and asked him where I could find Ruby.

"I sent her to N'awlins," Sam said.

"New Orleans? What she doin' there?" I asked.

"I got me a contractor. He and his boys from outta Houston, they rebuilding some shoppin center down there. He axed me tuh send him some companionship," he said.

"Great fuckin crap," I said.

The directions he gave me weren't very good, but be that as it may, I had to get moving. And off to New Orleans I went.