0 comments/ 114967 views/ 19 favorites The Descent By: Dyrtytailz Hi my name is Jamie and I've been married for four years. I'm petite in case any of you want to picture me while your reading. I have light brown or dark blonde hair. My chest is perky and firm with c-cups and I wear between a thirty four and thirty six.(depending on the bra) Do you have a good image yet? Anyway I recently started working again now that my husband has regular hours. We only have one car. I work about a half hour form our house and my second week someone on my shift offered to give me a ride. His name is Matt. I only work on mondays, tuesdays, thursays and saturdays from four at night until ten. Matt has the exact same hours. I agreed and my husband of course didn't mind because this meant he'd have a car. The first week went fine, we talked about life and everything else. I mentioned that on wednesdays my husband plays cards over at a friends house, and Matt said wow, so you guys must never see each other. I told him Fridays and Sundays were like 'our days'. He laughed, and we talked about sex and relationships Matt was between girlfriends. Any way the second week we left work at ten and when I got into Matt's car he didn't start it right away. "What's up?" I asked. "I'm going to tell you the first rule for my car. I add one every week." "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well is you want a ride home you have to take your pants off." Matt said he was laughing and smiling and I was sure he was kidding. "C'mon I'm serious I won't touch you or even look, but that's the rule. It's either that or call your husband for a ride, it'll be fun and daring." He said. I could not believe that he was asking this. The car sat for about five minutes before I knew that he really meant it. I'm not sure why I did, but I unbuttoned my jeans and yanked them down and off the end of my ankles. Sitting on the seat wearing nothing but Thong panties was humiliating and erotic at the same time. Matt pulled out of the parking lot. The ride seemed to take forever, but when we finally turned onto my street and Matt told me that I could get dressed I realized that I was soaking wet. When I got in the house it was quarter of eleven and I was horny, my husband was already snoring so I layed on the couch and took care of myself. The next day at three fifteen Matt pulled up to pick me up and as he pulled away he looked over at me. I wasn't sure if I had been hoping he would or hoping he wouldn't, but once again I found myself pulling off my jeans. Today I had worn full panties and Matt seemed a little disappointed. They're my only pair and even my husband had commented on them. "Once in a while they're nice." I had lied to him. Most of the night I had been thinking of the ride home, and I was horny as hell when Matt and I walked out to the car. I climbed in and again waited fo Matt to tell me, although by now I wanted to take them off. Matt got in. "You know." He said. "I'll give you a whole week off. You can wear your pants to and from work, all you have to do is ride home tonight right now with NO PANTIES on." I'll give you a few minutes to think about it. That would leave my crotch on display. I thought. "I can keep my legs closed tight?" I asked and Matt said of course. "And next tuesday I'll give you the new rule." Matt said. "Alright." I said quietly and undid my pants, this time pulling both my pants and panties off. They got stuck on my shoes and I had to struggle for a moment. Once I was naked from the waist down Matt pulled out. I hoped that Matt couldn't tell, but I was so wet and horny that I could smell myself. At the first set of ligts Matt flipped on the dome light and dug a cd out of the glove box. I squirmed as his hand passed within inches of my pubic hair. "Don't worry. I said I wouldn't touch you." He said. "Nice little bush though." He added laughing. I keep it trimmed around my legs and pelvis and really short on the lips, but there's a smallish puff of long hair right at the top. I find that it's relaxing to storke it at night. Not that I was about to tell Matt that. We got to my street and I dressed trying to keep my legs fairly shut so Matt wouldn't even see my pussy, much less how damp and open it was. Tonight my husband was awake and I fucked the shit out of him. True to his word I wore my pants on thurday, friday, and monday. Then Tuesday rolled around again. He waited until the way home to spring the 'new rule' and actually let me wear my pants to work. The new rule was simple in fact I already knew it. No more panties, it would be easy I had already done it. Now it would just be every day for a week. Then came the out. I could wear pants agin for a whole week, the solution. Ride home tonight with no panties and my legs open as far as I could spread them. Matt had an old buick with bench seats, so spreading them in the front seat would not be a problem. I thought about it long and hard. And I now had a pretty good idea of what next weeks rule would be. I was beginning to get queasy. "Matt I think this might be going too far." I said. "You can always call for a ride." He said. "I haven't hurt or touch you, it's just a cheap thrill, besides we've had some good conversations right?" He paused. "Besides I know it turns you on, it's in your body language, so c'mon you've already done the ride with no panties this is only a little bit further." It took a minute to take my pants and panties down and almost two minutes to start spreading my legs. Matt waited patiently I stopped with my knees about a foot apart. "A little bit wider." Matt said and I advanced to a foot and a half, "Almost..." He added and I was finally allowed to stop when one knee hit the door and the other the heater controls, all told my knees were close to thirty inches apart and I could smell my sex. This time I was fairly sure Matt could too. Again at the first light on came the dome light and out came a cd, I looked down as his wrist grazed my knee, my pussy lips hung obscenely open and they were visibly wet. When I looked up Matt too was looking at them, and then he shut off the light and kept driving. I was embarrassed, a little sick, mad for hiding this from my husband, and most of all ashamed at how horny I was. Once home it was almost eleven and my husband was comatose in bed, I stripped and sat naked on the couch with my legs open using a mirror to try and see what Matt had seen, then I masturbated three times and felt bad for having done it. The next week flew by, Matt was normal and nice as we commuted and we talked about everything except sex, and the rules. Then came tuesday night. I climbed in and he climbed in. "You know the new rule." He said, and I nodded. "Is there and out?" I asked a little confused and worried about my shirt. That would be risky. Matt nodded. "It's not your top though." He said, "but you should start by getting down to your legs open, then I'll tell you the out." I slowly complied, and I was really nervous as I did. Once I was on display he started to drive. "Your out this week is actually a bonus out, it's good for two weeks, but it will only buy you up to your panties. So if you agree you can wear panties to and from work, for two whole weeks and if you disagree you ride to and from work with your legs open until next tuesday when there's a new rule. The new rule next week has nothing to do with this week's out so don't panic. Also if you take the out you get out of next week's new rule." Matt said as we approached the first light. Again, the dome light and the cd. His hand brushed my thigh close to my knee, and the glove box opened between my legs, as he shuffled through the dozen or so discs his hand passed within two inches of my gaping womanhood, I was breathless and resisting an urge to thrust my hips forward a little. "What's the out?" I asked and it was almost a panting whisper. "Halfway home, there's a boat launch, it's closed for the night, but there's quiet parking there. The out is this. Five minutes of making out. For the first four minutes I can only kiss above your shoulders and only touch from your belly-button up. For the last minute I can kiss from the belly-button up and touch everything on the OUTSIDE of your body. I won't put my fingers inside you." He found the cd and his knuckle brushed my pubic hair as he shut the dome light off, put in the cd and began to drive away. My mind raced and my groin ached, we would be at the boat launch in less than ten minutes and my libido and rationality fought with one another. The fact that you're reading this story should tell you what my decision was and looking back I don't know if I regret it or not. We pulled into the parking lot, it was warm and Matt opened his sunroof. He parked under a tree not far from a streetlamp and left the radio playing. He then turned to face me. My legs were still wide open and I could see his face in the light from the lamp, I nodded and he came onto me slowly. First kissing my neck and ears, which I had made the mistake of telling him turned me on, the very first week he gave me a ride, before eny of this had happened. Then I felt his hand slide under my shirt. He pawed my breast through my bra for a while as his lips found mine, My legs remained open and my pussy was throbbing wanting some attention, true to his rules he wormed his way into my bra and by now had my shirt bunched around my shoulders and my bra around my waist. He lazily rubbed my nipples which were by now super erect and sensitive while he tongued my open lips and I tongues him right back. All too soon there was a beep from the timer on his watch and his head sank to my breasts as one hand sank to my groin. His tongue played firmly with my nipples and the underside of my breast as his hand cupped my pussy engulfing the whole of it and then individual fingers on either side of it, then his middle finger applying pressure to my clitoris. Iground against him, as I had the strongest orgasm I had had since my husband and I first met. He knew it and brought his fingers across my open gash as the moisture flowed out. As the minute ended he sat up and licked his fingers clean smiling at my disheveled mess. It took me a minute to stop shaking enough to adjust my bra and straighten my shirt. The musky smell of my orgasm filled the car as we drove the last ten minutes home with my legs still open. As we turned onto my street I pulled my panties over my wet sex, and then my pants. I was finally catching my breath, it was five past eleven, and the house was dark. "See you thursday." Matt said as I got out. The Descent Begins Betty leaned back in her chair, back away from the table and the conversation. She looked around the crowded bar shaking her long brown hair back away from her face. It had been a long time since she had been in a place like this. A meat market. That's what she and her friends from college would have called it. Was that term still in vogue? She smiled to herself. That shows how out of things I've gotten, she thought. You've just got to get out more. And damn it, now that the divorce is final, she was determined she would. A bubbling giggle drew her attention back to the group around the table. For a moment, her eyes rested affectionately on Jenny, her best friend in the office. Three years of working together, of coffee breaks and days off. They were both married, or had been, she laughed inwardly. As of today at noon she was no longer married. Free, damn it felt good! Jenny had never seemed to take her marriage very seriously; even now, as Betty watched a man, one of the many who milled around the table, was resting his hand on Jenny's bare shoulder, his fingers pressing into the woman's flesh just above the swelling of her breasts. Jenny's peasant blouse left a lot of flesh exposed. Betty knew that she and her friend had almost the exact same measurements...Betty's hips were perhaps a little more full than her friend's but Jenny had her a bit in the breast department. But only a bit, Betty told herself with a smile. Jenny was considered a little wild. Betty had had to cover for her friend many times at work, and even gotten in some trouble herself letting Jenny pull her into things. Yet Betty had never censured the other girl for her "looseness." Far from it. In her most honest moments, Betty freely admitted to herself that she envied the other girl. Envied her her free attitudes, and her approach to life. If it was fun, and didn't hurt anyone, then do it! Betty freely admitted to herself that her life had been made more interesting and fun because Jenny was her friend. But still she never wished that she could be more like Jenny, she really would never want to be like Jenny. Betty knew herself very well. To be like Jenny, you had to be assertive, you had to go after what you wanted. That wasn't Betty. She freely admitted to herself that she preferred to be led, even pushed. Betty was one of those rare people who knew and liked themselves. She knew she had faults, but she knew she also had strengths. And, if her life seemed dull sometimes, she had a very active imagination. She grinned to herself. Even Jenny would probably be very shocked if she knew some of Betty's fantasies; she just needed someone to bring her out. Someone far removed from Bob, her now ex-husband. It wasn't that Betty was shy, or even quiet in the way that word was usually used. This afternoon, for instance, she had been doing her share of giggling, flirting, having fun. And it was fun. She didn't even feel any regrets about the divorce. She had grown tired of being cooped up, all alone, when he went off on his business trips. Actually, she thought ruefully, it wasn't too different when he was home. They never went anyplace. Bob seemed to be interested in nothing but making the firm he had inherited from his father even bigger than it already was. And for God's sake why, she wondered for perhaps the ten-millionth time? It certainly wasn't because they needed the money. Betty herself, upon her twenty-first birthday four years ago, had come into a trust fund that was practically inexhaustible. She had very little sense of, or interest in, financial matters, but her father's attorney had told her that it would be practically impossible to spend the income from the fund as fast as it came in. Making a dent in the principal would be well beyond any but the most determined spendthrift. Bob was just as well off. Money was something that neither of them had ever had to worry about, or even think about. Yet it seemed to be all that Bob did worry about. Oh, he didn't exactly worry about it, but he didn't enjoy it either. He was always worried about "what would it look like?" Betty shook her head. She had once loved the man, but there had always been just something missing. Something missing in their marriage, something missing in bed...something missing in life. As she had so often throughout her life, and even more so since her marriage, Betty took refuge in fantasy. In her fantasies, she was like Jenny. No, she was more than Jenny, and different. She wasn't a loud aggressive type, even in her fantasies. Just the opposite. In her dream world, Betty was taken, was pushed, was...... She shook her head. Now stop that, she chided herself. You can't go off into a daydream while you're in a bar surrounded by people. She noticed then that Jenny was looking at her with a concerned look. Betty smiled back at her friend, and leaned forward, lifting her glass to her lips and giggling as she took a drink. She was glad Jenny had called her this morning. Glad that she had let her friend talk her into coming out with her after work, "to celebrate your freedom!". And Betty, who usually went right home after work, had let Jenny talk her into it. She wanted to be talked into it, she admitted to herself, wanted to be led. It was always like that. She wanted to do things, but, on her own she just never seemed to do them. And that was why she and Jenny had become such good friends in the first place. They sort of played off each other, Jenny's brashness driving Betty further than she would ever have gone by herself, while Betty's hesitancy kept both of them from going too far. The problem was, Betty decided, that after being tied for the last three years to a man who was even more hesitant than she was she was kind of feeling like it was time to lose her hesitancy. At that moment her eyes, once more roaming idly around the crowded room, lit upon a man standing at the bar. He was staring at her and their eyes met. Something stirred in her loins and she flushed, looking away quickly. She tried not to, but in a few seconds she glanced back at him. He was still staring at her and as their eyes met for a second time he smiled, very faintly. Again something fluttered in her lower belly and again she forced herself to look away. When she looked back, he had turned to face the bar. She felt a vague disappointment. The man, if she had been able to see his face, was still smiling, more broadly now. He too was feeling a sensation in his loins. He knew he had found one. He often came to this bar, or others like it. Looking for women, for a pick-up. Most nights, he left alone, never having even spoken to a woman. But the nights when he didn't leave alone made it all worth while. He was very choosy in the women he approached. He studied them carefully. And when he did pick one he was seldom rebuffed. Even to himself, he could not describe exactly what he looked for in a woman, what signs told him this one was open to him while that one wasn't, but he was almost never wrong. Even the few times when he had approached a woman and been rebuffed, it had been a gentle rebuff, and given only after that momentary pause that told him the rebuff was with regret. And none of the women, not one, had ever been angry. Most women would be furious. He did not have what could ever be described as a smooth line. His approach was direct, insultingly direct, obscenely direct. A mistake in his choice would most probably result, at the least, in a humiliating denouncement, and at worst in a beating or even arrest. He had no desire to experience either outcome. But his targets never complained. He made them from the very beginning feel cheap and dirty; let them know that he looked upon them with nothing but contempt. A mental rapist, he sometimes thought of himself. But not a physical rapist. He would never force a woman. That would be of no interest to him. He wanted the woman to cooperate, to embrace her own degradation, to freely and willingly submit to everything he inflicted upon them. And so, he was very careful, and very patient. Tonight, his patience was thin. It had been months since he'd found a target, and the next one he found was going to have to pay for his deprivation. He was really going to drag this one through the gutter. When Betty next glanced toward the bar, the man was gone. She mentally laughed at herself. What did she expect? And why had he attracted her so? Since she and Jenny had come in, her eyes had met several other men's. She was an attractive woman and of course men looked at her. But none had caused that stirring in her loins. She blushed when she realized she was even a little damp down there. Oh well, in any case, she'd never see him again probably. Suddenly a glass was slammed down in front of her. She looked up, startled. It was him, the man from the bar. He leaned over her and said something. She shook her head. Surely she hadn't heard him right. Her face was puzzled and shocked as she looked at him. "Wha...what did you say?" she said. He grinned. "I said, 'I'm going to fuck your brains out.'" She stared at him. The room seemed to freeze around her, the crowd of people receding into the background. His face filled her vision, his grin mocking her confusion. He pulled a chair from another table and squeezed in beside her. The man that had been sitting next to her turned, frowning, and started to protest, but the intruder looked at him and the protest died unsaid. The newcomer reached for the glass he had sat on the table before her and his arm brushed her breast. It felt like she had been touched with a branding iron. He grinned at her, and when he lifted the glass to his mouth, he pushed his elbow against her. She couldn't seem to move. She sat there, his elbow digging into her boob while a maddening itch grew behind her womb. He set the glass down again, and replaced his elbow with his hand, moving it over her breast. Her face felt flushed and she couldn't seem to get enough air. She wanted to tell him to stop it, wanted to scream at him. Any sound, any protest, she knew, would bring several men leaping to her defense. That was all she had to do. Even show him her distaste for his insulting behavior would be enough. He would go away. She knew he would. He would take his...exciting...hand away from her breast and leave her alone. She swallowed, and lifted her own glass to her mouth, taking a large gulp. He leaned closer to her, his breath hot in her ear. "Yeah, Baby," he said. "That's what a chick like you comes in a place like this for...to find some guy willing to fuck the shit out of her. And don't you worry...I've got exactly what you need." He drained his glass and stood up. "Come on," he said. "Let's dance." He pulled her to her feet and had her out on the tiny little dance floor before she really knew what had happened. He was strong, or was she just weak? He didn't look particularly strong, nor particularly good-looking. He was quite a bit older than her, probably in his forties. His face was thin, and while he seemed to smile easily, the smile never reached his eyes. They were cold. Dark, deep pools. Out on the floor he pulled her roughly against him. "Please," she said, trying to move back away from him, but he held her tightly, forcing their bodies together as he began to move them. The dance area was crowded, actual dancing was almost impossible. Betty had noted earlier that the couples on the floor seemed to be far more engaged in heavy petting than in dancing. Now she was out here, and the man's hand was moving down her back, down to her butt. Again she tried to back away, putting her hands on his shoulders to push him, but he only held her tighter, his hands gripping her buttocks, hurting her. She moaned. Their loins pressed together. She could feel his penis, hard and hot, burning her pubes through their clothes. A sudden wave of dizzying lust swept over her, and she moved against him, a tiny animal sound rising from her throat. "That's it, baby. You feel that dick don't you? Eight inches, baby...You're in luck...I'm horny as hell tonight." My God, she thought. What am I doing? He's terrible. I've never....no one has ever talked like this to me. Who does he think I am? Some whore off the street? Some....Oh. He half lifted her with his hand on her ass, pulling her up onto his rod. Her head was on his shoulder and she seemed not to have the strength to lift it. His hand stroked her, his fingers gathering her dress in back, pulling it up. She knew people could see, were probably watching him mauling her, feeling her. Stop it, she told herself...scream...do anything! But she did nothing, only moaned into his shoulder and felt his hand and his hard on, both moving over her flesh, setting fires where ever they touched. "There's a hotel across the street. It's a fuckin' dump, but it'll do for a quick roll. If you're good, I'll take you over there and fuck the piss out of you." Betty groaned. Her panties were sodden between her legs and her knees felt like water. Her arms went around him and she clung to him, her body moving against him hungrily. His hand pulled her dress all the way up in back, until she could feel his hand on the bare flesh above the waistbands of her panties and pantyhose. His fingers seemed to be heated irons, searing her flesh. Her own body was on fire. She made a sound against his throat, feeling people's eyes on them, the feeling making her blood boil in her veins. The music stopped, but he didn't release her. They remained, plastered together, his hands roaming freely over her body. Meeting no resistance, he became bolder, moving his hand under her dress until he was cupping her crotch, chuckling. She blushed, knowing that he could feel how wet she was. The music started again, but neither of them made any attempt to dance now. Betty was lost. She knew she would do anything this man wanted, and suddenly she wanted him to know it. She turned her face up to his, her eyes hot with lust. "Please," she breathed, "please...take me there. To that hotel. Please." She swallowed what seemed to be a huge lump in her throat. "Take me and fuck me." Even he was surprised at the quickness of her surrender, but he recovered. He turned, holding her arm, and led her off the dance floor, toward the door. "Please," she said, "my purse...it's on the table." He grunted and corrected their path to pass by the table. Betty never even looked at Jennie, just grabbed up her purse as they passed, and let the man lead her from the bar. Outside, in the late afternoon sun, she had a momentary return to sanity. She tried to pull away from the man. If she could just break the contact with him maybe she could fight the hold he seemed to have exerted over her. But he would have none of it. He simply gripped her wrist harder, twisting it a little until she made a small sound of pain and ceased her feeble attempt at freedom. He pulled her out into the rush hour traffic, threading them through the semi-stalled cars and trucks. On the other curb he pushed into an open door. For a moment, she was confused. There was no hotel, just a long, narrow flight of stairs going up. It stank. Stank of years of dirt, urine, and who knew what else. Betty started to turn to the man, when he gave her a shove. "Up the stairs." She stumbled, and he caught her. And then their lips met. It was a kiss like no other she had ever experienced, except in her fantasies. His lips were hard, grinding against hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. It wasn't a kiss of love, it was a kiss of conquest, and she returned it with a kiss of surrender, pressing her heated body against him, grinding her loins into his. His hand gripped her hair, the other on her buttocks. long they stayed like that, Betty never knew. Time had no meaning to her. Finally, panting, he broke the kiss, pushing her away from him and up the stairs. His hand stayed on her ass as they climbed. Twice more before they reached the top he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her, each time seeming more savage than the last. The second time, while their lips ground together and his tongue explored her mouth, he lifted her skirt, hooking his thumbs in her panties and pushing them and her hose down. "Take them off," he said. She bent, almost falling down the stairs, pushing the garments down her legs, stepping out of her heels to slide them off. Straightening up she started to put the panties and pantyhose in her purse but he ripped them from her hands and tossed them down the stairs. "You won't need them," he said, pushing her on up the stairs. The lobby, such as it was, was at the head of the stairs. It was a rather large room. There was a ragged looking overstuffed sofa along one wall to the right and on the left a couple of chairs were on either side of a corridor which Betty assumed led to the rooms. On the opposite wall of the stairway was a grill covered window opening into another small room. A youngish, hard-looking black man was sitting behind the grille. The man with Betty guided her across the room to the window. "Got a room?" he asked the black man. "Sure do. By the hour, or all night?" As he spoke the black man looked at Betty, and she cringed at the naked contempt in his eyes. He thinks I'm a whore, she thought, and found that she liked the thought. She forced what she hoped was a wanton smile onto her face. "Four hours." "Forty bucks. Cash only." The man, Betty's man, snorted, and unrolled two twenties off a roll he took from his pocket. He shoved them under the grill, and the black man shoved a room key back in return. "210, last one at the end," he said, waving vaguely toward the corridor. Betty and her companion turned, his hand stroking her ass as they walked across the room. Just before they started down the corridor, while still in plain sight of the hotel clerk, he pulled Betty to him for another of his gut wenching kisses. This time, while their bodies were plastered together, he lifted her dress in back, baring her to the clerk. When they continued their journey down the corridor, his hand was on her bare ass. She was almost blind with lust. The corridor was dark, and like the stairwell stank of stale urine and sex. That's what this hotel was for, Betty thought as she was guided down the hallway by a man whose name she still didn't know, her flesh on fire from the feel of his hand on her bare ass. Sex. Pure, lusting sex. That's all he wanted from her, and that was exactly what she wanted to give him. She knew this was crazy, coming to a place like this with a man she didn't know. What if he was some kind of a homicidal maniac? But she was sure he wasn't. He was cruel, of that she was certain. She was also sure he would have some tastes that some might call perverted. It was her sense of his cruelty and perversity that had attracted her to him in the first place, she admitted to herself. All of her life she had wanted to know what it would be like to be taken by a man like this, to be used for no other purpose than sex, even to be hurt. To be used like the lowest of whores. Now, on the verge of finding out her itching pussy leaked down her thighs and she wondered if he could smell her arousal. It wasn't a particularly long corridor, but their room was at the very end, as the clerk had said, and it seemed to take forever to reach it. When they did, standing before a grime-coated window next to the door, he pushed her up against the wall, once more pressing his lips to hers, grinding their mouths together. His hands moved over her body as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, his fingers pinching and squeezing her flesh. One of her legs curled up over his thigh as if she was trying to climb up his body. She panted and moaned into his mouth, feeling the heat of his erection burning into her through their clothes. Her skirt was hiked up around her waist and he reached down, sliding a hand in between her legs and jamming two fingers into her dripping sex. She cried out, throwing her head back, cracking it against the wall as he particularly lifted her off her feet. The Descent Begins Somehow her blouse had come undone. She never really knew if she had unbuttoned it, or if he had, or if the buttons had just surrendered to their rutting bodies. No matter. It felt constricting, and she ripped it back off her shoulders Her bra quickly followed. He stepped back, smirking as she pulled the garments off and dropped them to the floor. She gave a small moan and moved back against him with her breasts bare, her nipples throbbing against the rough material of his shirt. Without releasing her, he managed to get the door open and pushed her inside, kicking her blouse in behind her. Betty stumbled, half-blinded with lust. She caught a quick impression of a dingy, dank smelling room, and then he pushed her again, shoving her face down onto the bed. He took her like that, from behind, her skirt rucked up around her waist, her naked upper body pressed down into the bed. His cock rammed deep into her and she began to cum almost immediately, screaming and rolling her hips back to meet him. He knotted one hand in her hair, using it like reins to pull her back on his raging cock, slamming his hips into her. The sound of his abdomen slapping against her ass as he fucked her, the feel of his flesh against hers, and the violent stroking of his rod in her sheath drove all rational thought from her. Her world shrank to her cunt and his cock as she screamed her throat raw until, after what seemed like hours, but was really only minutes, he drove his dick deep into her hole. His body strained, she could feel him trembling with the tension until his cock erupted inside her, and she screamed anew as he pumped his seed into her. Neither moved for several long minutes. Then, he raised himself up on his arms. "Shit," he said. She moaned as he dragged his now softened cock from her ravaged hole. His cum, mixed with her juices, bubbled out of her, drenching the bed between her legs. He stood up and staggered back, collapsing into an overstuffed easy chair between the two windows that looked out on the street. Betty's body twitched, shivering as she came down from her sexual high. Slowly, thought returned to her. "Oh god. So good. God, that was good." She didn't realize she had spoken out loud. The man smiled. "Get up," he said. Betty groaned. For a moment she didn't move, then she rolled over, looking at him. He sat in the chair, naked from the waist down, his depleted penis laying against one thigh, glistening with their combined juices. "Come here," he said. She stood, swaying, her legs feeling weak and heavy. He made an impatient motion with his hands, and she moved forward, stumbling more than walking across the room to him. "Clean me." Mouth open, Betty stared at him, trying to make her brain work. Clean him? She looked at his cock. It was gooey and sticky looking, oozing against his thigh. Yes. Clean him. Her eyes never left his dick as she undid her skirt and then knelt, naked, between his legs. A little noise rose from her throat as she leaned over his crotch. He drew his breath in sharply and threw his head back at the first touch of her tongue on his sensitive member. His hands went to her head, guiding her as her tongue licked his soft cock. She felt cheap and dirty as she slavishly licked the residue of their fuck from his dick. Cheap and dirty, and incredibly aroused. It didn't take long for her cleansing tongue to bring a reaction in him. Her heart began to pound as she felt his prick stirring beneath her tongue. Her oral muscle slipped around and under his cock head, lifting it so her lips could envelope it, and she cooed softly as she began to suck him. With his rapidly hardening cock in her mouth she looked up at him, her lust flaring anew at the look of lustful contempt in his eyes. That's the way a man looks at a whore, she thought, and her cheeks sank in around him, her head bobbing in his crotch. He let her mouth bring him to full erection, then he reached down, again knotting his fingers in her hair, using it to drag her mouth off his cock. A long, thin string of cock drool and saliva connected her lips to his sex for a moment before it broke away, dropping down over her breasts. He pulled her up and over his knees. She went willingly, knowing what he was going to do, and wanting it. Arranging herself over his laps like a naughty school girl, her bare ass gleaming up at him. He hit it, open palmed and hard. And she squealed. He hit it again, and again. She screamed and wailed, flailing her arms about, squirming on his lap like a fish out of water. But she made no attempt to escape as he spanked her, as her ass flesh turned red and her sex drenched his thighs and his cock reared up beneath her belly. Finally, with her ass on fire, he stood up, dumping her onto the floor. She fell on her back crying out in pain as she landed on her bruised buttocks and quickly rolled over onto her belly. Once more her hair became the man's handle as he roughly pulled her up and half-dragged, half-pushed her up onto the bed.. He held her down with his body while he moved his hands over her, pinching her flesh, twisting and squeezing with his vice-like fingers. She made no protest at his mauling of her body, only sobbed in pain and rising passion as he dug his nails into her nipples and leaned down to sink his teeth into her tender breasts. Holding her nipples, he pulled her tits out from her body, stretching them into elongated cones, almost lifting her off the bed by the aching nubs. Biting at her neck and shoulders, he slipped his hand down between her legs, slipping his fingers into her snatch, still dripping with his cum. Two fingers, then three. Betty arched her hips up and he drove a fourth finger into her. Panting, she stared down at her crotch, at his hand disappearing into her. "Oh God," she moaned. "Your hand. Jesus. Your whole hand is... in me...fucking me." And then she screamed, her back arching until he was sure it would snap, as an incredible orgasm slammed through her body, shaking her from her toes to the top of her head. She must have passed out for a moment, because when next she was aware of anything, he was kneeling over her, straddling her head, his knees holding her arms down as he pushed his cock into her mouth. She lifted her head to welcome his entry, then sucked madly as he fucked her mouth. She could see nothing but his belly advancing and retreating before her eyes, could feel nothing but his cock filling her mouth, his balls whipping her chin. Time became meaningless. She sucked, the sounds of her mouth on his cock mixing with his panting, her tongue cradling his swollen rod. Then his thick penis seemed to swell even more inside her mouth, until she thought her jaws would break. His cock erupted, shooting his semen into her throat. She gulped it down, every swallow sending a shock of delight through her as she felt it slide down her throat and burn into her belly. Even when his ejaculations had slowed, when he had collapsed over her, her lips continued to nurse on his dick, sucking his balls dry until he took it from her. She gazed up at him, her eyes glassy, a little trickle of semen running from one corner of her mouth. Her tongue flicked out, and the little trickle disappeared. A little purring sound escaped her, and she drifted off to sleep. The room was almost dark when she awoke, lit only by the light filtering in through the windows. She sensed instantly that she was alone. She sat up, swinging her legs off the bed and staring around her in the half-darkness. The only sounds were from outside, drifting up from the street. Betty stood up, taking a couple of deep breaths as she stumbled on rubbery legs to the light switch. To say that the room was flooded with light would be an exaggeration, but even the dim, unshielded overhead bulb hurt her eyes and it took a moment for her to adjust. Her skirt and blouse lay on the floor. One shoe was in a corner of the room, the other next to the bed. God knew where her bra was. Her purse, which she vaguely remembered dropping when the man had pushed her into the room, was on the dresser, open. Oh no, she thought. Did he take my money? She had had a little over a hundred dollars in there. Quickly, wrenching at the pain the sudden movement caused in her abused body, she crossed the room and rummaged through her purse, giving a sigh of relief when she found all the money there. Then she saw a note next to her purse. She picked it up, tilting it to the light to read it. "We will meet again, Betty," it said. He had signed it, "Mr. Harris." She realized then that he had probably opened her purse to get her driver's license, to get her address. So now he knew who she was and where she lived. She shivered, both afraid and anxious to meet him again. Her entire body ached, but it was a good ache, like the pain he... Mr. Harris... had given her. She shook her head, looking at herself in the scratched, dirty mirror over the dresser, running a finger over the little bruises she could see, the bruises he had left. Her buttocks still burned from the spanking, and she could feel his seed running down her legs. A little shiver ran over her. She felt shame, she decided, but it was an almost exciting kind of shame. She had given herself to a man whose name, at the time, she didn't even know. Done things with him that she had never done for any man before. And she knew, if he returned, right now, right here, she would do them all again. "Slut," she told her reflection, and her reflection smiled in agreement. She went into the bathroom. It stank, even worse than the room itself. Clean enough to pass the cursory health inspections a place like this would get, she supposed. The thought gave her a perverse joy, and after she had peed she sat on the dingy commode and masturbated, reliving the entire episode. In her mental reenactment the room was even dirtier. For a moment she contemplated taking a shower, then decided that she rather liked the soiled feeling of her body. The mingled juices of herself and Mr. Harris drying on her thighs and her pubes was lewdly pleasant. She felt that she smelled like a whore, and she rather liked the feeling. A few minutes later, wearing only skirt, blouse and shoes, she left the room. The desk clerk looked up at her as she crossed the little lobby, but she didn't return his look, wanting now only to get down the stairs, find a cab, and get home. She was halfway to the stairway when the clerk yelled at her. She turned toward him in time to see him disappear from the window. A door to the right of the window banged open, slamming against the wall, and he came out snarling. Betty, frightened, took a step back, unfortunately away from the stairway, not toward it. The black man caught her easily, grabbing her wrist and twisting it. "Where the fuck you think you're going, bitch?" he growled. "You think you can stiff me?" "Wha...what do you...I haven't..." "Don't try to shit me, 'ho, " he said, and slapped her, knocking her to the floor. "You goddamned sluts think you can bring a john up here and not pay me my cut?" Betty stared up at him in shock, her hand raised up to her stinging cheek. God. The man thinks I'm a whore! "No. You're... I'm not a... a prostitute." "Oh yeah?" he snapped. " You come up here with a guy, let him knock you around, then he leaves without you. Who you think you're shittin' bitch?" He bent down, snatching up her purse where she had dropped it in her fall, upending it on the floor. He used the toe of his shoe to scatter the items, then bent down again to pick up her wallet. Scooping out the money he counted it quickly. "Only a hundred bucks? Shit, you're a cheap one, ain't ya? It ain't much, but for tryin' to stiff me, I'll take it all. That'll teach you not to fuck with a poor black boy." He laughed and turned away, back to the door through which he had come. Betty lunged after him, tripping and sprawling on the floor at his feet. "Please," she cried, "don't take it all. Please. I need... at least leave me cab fare." The man turned back, a sudden calculating sparkle in his eyes. "How much you need for that cab fare?" Betty thought quickly. "Twenty dollars. Please." He laughed, moving back to stand over her. "Tell you what, Missy. I'm a reasonable guy. It's a little steep for a whore like you, but I'll give you twenty for a blow job." A little whimper came from Betty. Tears ran down her cheeks. But she also felt a tingling in her loins. A flush grew in her face, and she rose up onto her hands and knees. Like a bitch, she thought. The man grinned down at her. She nodded, and he laughed again, dropping a twenty onto the floor. "Take your clothes off," he said. Why, she thought. I don't have to be naked to give him head, do I? But he was the customer. She was just merchandise. The customer is always right. She slipped quickly out of the skirt and blouse, not even getting off her knees. The second time today she had stripped for a man. His cock was out, and she shuffled forward, taking it in her mouth, her body beginning to quiver. She looked up at him as the spongy head of his cock slipped between her lips, the look of contempt on his face arousing a masochistic lust within her. God. I'm so hot, so wet. How can I be so dirty, to enjoy this. Sucking off a strange black man. Kneeling like the whore he thinks I am. Even a whore wouldn't be as hot as I am now. I want to suck him. I want him to cum in my mouth. He reached down, putting his hands on her head as he began to move his hips, driving his cock deeper into her mouth. She felt the head slide into her throat and she swallowed instinctively around it, thrilling to the feel. A low, whining sound rose from her lips around the seal of her red lips on his black rod. Inside her mouth, her tongue struggled against the weight of his cock, feeling the veins, squeezing it between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, caressing it as it fucked in and out between her lips. The backward motion of his dick pulled a mixture of saliva and cock drool out with it, drenching her chin and dripping down onto her breasts, forming a froth around the juncture of lips and cock, adding to the sloppy sounds of her sucking. Her hands went around his waist, cupping his buttocks, coaxing him deeper on his forward lunges, choking herself on cock, gorging on dick. He began to pant above her, his hands tightening on her bobbing head. One final thrust, deep into her throat, and his body quivered against her face as he emptied his balls into her belly. She clung to him, gulping. One, two, three spurts, then he pulled back, his cock head resting on her tongue while he shot two more spurts of semen, before dragging his spent member from her lips. Betty tilted her head back, mouth open, showing him her mouthful of his juice, before swallowing it in obvious pleasure. A long, thick string of cum still connected her lips to his cock until he stepped back, and it broke down over her tits. The clerk, panting, pulled his pants up. Betty stared blankly up at him as he zipped up, little ripples running over her body, a trickle of semen running from a corner of her mouth. With his toe, he gave the twenty dollar bill on the floor a little shove toward her. "You give good head for such a cheap whore. Now get your white ass out of here. And don't forger my cut the next time you bring a john up here. I usually charge a percentage, but after you tried to stiff me...from now on you give me fifty every time. I don't give a shit what you charge, I get fifty." With that, he turned and walked back into the desk clerk's cage, leaving Betty still kneeling on the floor. The sound of him slamming the door roused her. She shook herself then, conscious of his eyes on her from the grilled window, she crawled naked around the floor to retrieve the items he had spilled from her purse. Only when she had put them all back did she stand up and dress. She glanced toward the window after she was dressed, but the man wasn't visible. She turned and walked down the stairs, still a little dazed from blowing him. The second man I blew today, she thought. It's strange. I didn't cum from blowing him, but the feeling when he came was almost as good as an orgasm. God. What is happening to me?