Journey Into Slavery Part 1 Page 4

  When Martha finally pulled back, Sandy gasped. Martha took Greg’s hand to lead him off to another room and another woman, someone special, and she looked back at Sandy with a smile and a wave. Sandy remained still, tingling all over. She wanted to call Martha back and ask if she could find another woman for her as well, if not herself.

  She was facing a roomful of strange people and hugged her arms around herself. Why was she feeling so nervous and awkward? She’d been here before. This didn’t have to be so difficult, did it?

  A good looking older man walked past her with two empty beer bottles in his hand, and smiled at her. She smiled back. He looked nice. Could she spend the evening with him?

  But she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. She leaned against the wall, looking at the roomful of guys who were watching the football game. She would like to find Ian again and get her brains fucked out by his huge cock.

  She squeezed her legs together. Just the thought of him inside her again made her pussy wet. There were so many things she still wanted to do with that huge cock.

  The good looking older man stopped beside her. He was holding a pair of full beer bottles.

  “Great game, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Hm? Oh, yes, it is,” Sandy said, and smiled at him.

  He held up one of the beer bottles.

  “Would you like a beer?” he said.

  Sandy hesitated. Was he going to have the huge cock that she wanted to satisfy her cravings?

  “No, thank you. I’m all set,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Ok. It was nice to meet you,” he said, and went back into the room with the other guys.

  Sandy smiled back at him. Her insides, though, were twisted in knots. Was that the right thing to do?

  She tried some of the other rooms in the house. They were sparsely occupied, unlike the main room, where most of the men were gathered for the game. Everyone in the other rooms were couples, and they had already started making out and feeling each other up, and moving together to the bedrooms.

  Sandy hugged her arms around herself again, as tight as she could. She went back to the main room. Even there, the women had pulled the men away from the game to go off to the bedrooms. She sat on her own, watching them go, feeling out of place.

  There was just one man left, and she didn’t like the way he looked. His dark hair was greased back on his head, and his teeth were crooked. He was holding a glass of red wine. When he got up and started moving toward her, she tensed.

  “How you doin’?” he said in a low, smooth voice.

  Sandy just nodded and smiled. He smelled funny, too, but she hated to have to turn him down. He might be her last chance to get laid that evening. How could she go to a sex party and not get laid?

  “So ... You looking for some action?” he said.

  Even his voice was slimy. Sandy shivered. How did he get invited to the party?

  “I, um ... Well ...” she started to say.

  He took something out of his pocket and held it in his open palm. It was a small pouch with a white powder. Sandy stared at it, then into his eyes.

  “You looking for a special kind of party?” he said.

  Sandy closed her mouth. That was how it worked. Of course. Why didn’t she see it before? When she was with Ian, she was uptight until she got high. She smiled at him.

  “Yeah. Ok.”

  “My name’s Randall.”

  “Sandy.”

  He held his hand out for her to shake it, and when she put her hand in his, he turned her hand over and kissed the back.

  “Then come with me, Sandy. You and me, we’ll have our own little party.”

  He took her hand and she went with him. He led her not to one of the empty bedrooms, but to the back bathroom, which Martha had decorated with white tile and porcelain, and antique faucets and fixtures. She turned around to look at him.

  “Have a seat,” he said, and pointed absently at the toilet.

  Sandy crossed her arms and started to protest, when he pulled a small mirror out of one pocket and set it on the edge of the white pedestal sink, and took the small plastic pouch from his other pocket. She closed her mouth.

  Randall grinned at her and poured some of the white powder onto the mirror. He used a shiny, chrome razor blade to separate the powder into thin lines.

  Sandy was engrossed in the smooth, fluid motions of his hand. He moved quickly and accurately. She sat down on the toilet to watch him work. When he had cut half a dozen lines of about equal length, he held out a twenty dollar bill that had been rolled into a tight tube.

  “The beautiful lady goes first,” he said, still grinning.

  Sandy took the twenty dollar bill tube and smiled back at him. In theory, she knew what she was supposed to do with it. However, she didn’t want to admit to him that she had never done it before.

  He was watching her, waiting. She held the thin tube at the end of the first line of white powder on the small mirror, leaned forward so the raised end of the tube was just inside her left nostril, and inhaled.

  A small portion of the line sucked up into the tube. Sandy’s eyes flashed with stars behind her closed eyelids, and her nose burned. She pulled her head back and rubbed her nose. Randall chuckled, but didn’t say anything. Sandy’s face burned.

  He was still watching her. She picked up the tube again and inhaled the rest of the first line with her left nostril. It burned, but she didn’t want to let Randall see her discomfort. Without looking at him, she put the tube in her right nostril and inhaled the second line of white powder.

  He took the tube from her hand.

  “I think you’ll enjoy your high. My coke is ninety nine percent pure. I buy only the best, never cut with fillers,” he said.

  Sandy just nodded. She really had no idea what he was talking about.

  He picked up the mirror and quickly snorted the other four lines, two in each side of his nose. Sandy’s eyes were fixed on him. She had been staring and hadn’t blinked for a long time. She shook her head. Was it working? She felt funny, dizzy and tingly. It was a different sensation from Ian’s marijuana. The light seemed brighter, and the colors seemed ... more colorful.

  In the back of her mind, a voice was telling her something. She had noticed something. But what was it? She blinked again. It was Randall’s hands. He was pulling down the zipper of his pants, and pulled out his penis.

  “Come on. Suck on this, baby,” he said.

  Sandy just stared at his hard penis. How did he get a hard on? She snickered. It had to be the funniest thing she had ever seen.

  He moved toward her. It got bigger as it got closer, and her eyes got wider. He pressed the warm head against her lips until her mouth opened. It pushed past her teeth and over her tongue, all the way to the back of her mouth and made her gag.

  He held her head with both hands and fucked her mouth, rocking back and forth with his hips. Sandy’s eyes were focused on his belt buckle, and the way it got bigger, then got smaller, in and out, had her mesmerized. She hardly even noticed all the times it jammed into the back of her throat and made her gag.

  She didn’t even notice when he pulled his cock out and left her mouth empty and her jaw hanging open. He laughed, and it was loud in the small, tiled room. She looked up at him. He looked like he was spinning, and his face was distorted.

  “You can close your mouth now, baby,” he said.

  She stared at him. Was he talking to her? She realized that he was, and that her jaw was hanging open, and she snapped it shut. He took her hand and helped her to her feet, and when he looked into her face, his head seemed distended, and his nose was huge.

  “Are you trippin’, doll? It looks like you’re trippin’ good,” he said.

  Sandy cringed away from him. His voice sounded like he was talking into a tin can. It took a moment for her to realize that he was doing something to her. She looked down. His hands had pulled her blouse out of her slacks, and they were working to unfasten the front of her slacks.r />
  “Turn around for me, doll,” he said, and his hands were on her hips.

  He turned her around and pushed on her shoulders. She bent over and put her hands on the back of the toilet. She looked back over her shoulder to see what else he was going to do to her.

  He had a big grin on his face, and his hard penis stuck straight out from the front of his slacks. She stared at him hard for the longest time with her eyes narrowed, but for the life of her, she could not think of this man’s name.

  Whoever he was, he pulled her neat, pressed slacks off her hips and let them fall to the floor. He dropped his own slacks, too, and lifted his shirt out of the way. He moved toward her ass, with his cock swinging in front of him. With one hand on her ass, he used the other hand to guide his cock into her pussy. It split her open and sunk in, and she groaned.

  She closed her eyes. It felt good to have a cock inside her again, even if it wasn’t Ian’s, or Greg’s. It was hot and hard, and when it moved in and out it rubbed against that little spot that made her feel all tingly and weak. She bit her lower lip and moaned each time he pressed it deep into her. It was too bad it wasn’t Cameron fucking her.

  Sandy’s eyes snapped open. The tile wall was only an inch from her face. Did she really just think that? She didn’t say it out loud, did she?

  She looked back over her shoulder. If that man, whatever his name was, had heard it, he didn’t seem to care. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open, and his face was turned up, and he was holding her hips and rocking back and forth.

  Sandy looked away, facing the cold, white tile again. How could she think such a thing about her own son? But he did have that oversized bulge in his shorts. There was no way to deny that. Could it be as big as what Ian had? Just the thought of Cameron standing behind her, sliding his long, thick cock in and out of her pussy, made her ache in her belly with desire. Maybe there was a way she could/...

  The strange man behind her groaned out loud. His voice echoed off the tiled walls. Randall. That was his name. His cum spurted into her belly, and the warmth of it spread slowly through her body. He pulled his cock out and gave her a smack on her ass. She jumped.

  “Thanks for the great fuck, doll. I’ll catch you next time,” he said.

  In a flash, he yanked up his slacks and was gone. The door didn’t click shut and swung open. His cum was dripping down the inside of her leg. She watched the open doorway, expecting him to return. Was that it?

  She shrugged. It didn’t matter any more. She was finally feeling warm and comfortable. Besides, he smelled funny.

  She wiggled her ass toward the open door. She was still charged up and ready to go, ready to fuck a whole roomful of men if they wanted her, one at a time, or hell, even two at a time if they wanted to give it to her like that.

  But no one came to the door. There was no line of men to pound their cocks into her pussy and her ass and leave behind their cum until it ran out of her like she was an overfilled sink, and dried on her skin like an exotic beauty cream. There were no rough, strong hands to squeeze her soft parts, and no hard, hairy bodies to rub her own skin against. She sighed. Maybe one day Martha could show her how to find that room.

  She cleaned up and got dressed and left the small bathroom. The house was quiet except for the soft moans coming from different rooms. Greg had to be somewhere, in one of them. She was dying to find out about the special woman that Martha had for him. Would he mind too much if she joined them? It was every man’s fantasy to have two women at the same time, wasn’t it?

  She stopped at the main room, which was empty. The hockey game was still on, and the score was tied, two to two. She sighed and put her hand on her hip. Greg had to be in that house somewhere. She would have to get him to take her home and fuck her right.

  Down the hall, a door opened and a young woman came out, adjusting her blouse. She smiled at Sandy as she went by.

  “Excuse me,” Sandy said.

  The young woman stopped and turned around.

  “Have you seen Martha?” Sandy said.

  The young woman paused and looked thoughtful.

  “I think I saw her go into that room with a good looking guy,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Sandy said, and grinned.

  The young woman walked off. Sandy headed toward the bedroom that she indicated. It sounded like Martha had found someone special for herself as well. She would ask her where Greg was, and maybe she could get there in time to join him and his special woman.

  She opened the door a crack and peeked in, and froze. Greg was standing in the middle of the room with his back to the door, and he was naked. Her brow furrowed. How did she find the room that Greg was in?

  Just as she was about to say his name, she noticed a movement in the mirror on the closet door. She opened the door another inch, and her eyes opened wide. It was Martha. She was on her knees in front of Greg, holding his cock and licking it like she worshipped it. Martha looked up at Greg with a soft, adoring smile and said something, but it was too soft for Sandy to hear.

  She closed the door quietly and stood in her spot, unable to move. The sight she had just seen made her feel uneasy in her stomach. Her feelings were mixed and confused. It was great to see that Greg was hooked up with Martha, wasn’t it? But what if that was his reason for asking her to come with him to these parties? Was he having a thing with Martha? And if she was so into casual sex with complete strangers, was that the same as approving of Greg’s thing with Martha?

  She took her hand off the door knob and wiped her forehead. She started toward the kitchen. Her head was shaking. God, she needed a drink.

  * * * *

  Greg stood at the front of his classroom, telling all of the kids about the homework assignment for tomorrow. The bell rang to end class in the middle of his explanation, and all the kids jumped up from their desks and headed for the door. He raised his voice to be heard over the noise, to finish telling them what chapters they needed to read before they disappeared.

  He held out his hand to stop one girl as she walked past his desk.

  “Maggie, hold up. I wanna talk to you for a second,” he said.

  She glared at him.

  “I’m gonna be late for class,” she said, with one hand out and one hand on her hip.

  “I’ll write you a note,” Greg said, and went around behind his desk to get some papers.

  Maggie Lewis crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her lower lips out. Greg tried not to look at her, so she wouldn’t see that he was amused.

  It was hard to resist looking at her. Maggie Lewis was probably the hottest girl in the school. Every year there was one girl who was hotter than the others, and this year Maggie was it.

  She was a striking, voluptuous redhead with freckles on her nose and on her chest. She had a great ass in her tight jeans, and great legs, when she wore those short skirts. It was her chest, though, that was probably her best asset, and she knew it. She never missed a chance to show off her big boobs, and today was no different.

  All of the kids were gone, and Maggie stood alone in front of his desk, glaring at him as if she wished she could fire dagger from her eyes. Greg came around from behind his desk.

  “I won’t keep you long, Maggie. I just want to talk to you about your choice of outfit,” he said.

  Maggie uncrossed her arms and put both hands on her hips.

  “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” she said.

  Greg started to speak and hesitated. Normally, it would be hard for him to come up with a good reason for why it probably wasn’t the best idea for her to wear a tight, pink sweater that exposed her flat stomach and slender waist. It was even harder when it had a deep V neckline that revealed the freckles on her chest, and she left the top three buttons undone so that the deep cleavage of her heavy, round boobs was completely exposed.

  “Your sweater is open a little too much. You’re showing a bit too much,” he said.

  Maggie smirked. Her fingers pulled the two sid
es of the V neck open to reveal even more of her cleavage. Her big boobs stretched the tight sweater, and her nipples were hard points.

  “What’s the matter, Mr. Henderson? Don’t you like what you see?” she said.

  Greg swallowed hard. His penis twitched in his slacks. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Oh, yes, he liked what he saw. Would she be surprised to find out how badly he would like to throw her on his desk and fuck the hell out of her?

  “Young lady, do you have any idea what you’re setting yourself up for?” he said.

  Her hands let go of the opening of her pink sweater, and her mischievous face turned confused.

  “What?”

  “It’s not a matter of what I like or what I don’t like. It’s a matter of what the young men you meet are going to expect. You can walk around flaunting what you have like that,” he said, and pointed straight at her boobs. She looked down at her chest like she didn’t realize they were sticking out. “But when it comes time to deliver the goods, if you don’t give them what you’ve led them to expect, it’s just gonna piss them off.”

  Instead of looking confused, or humbled, Maggie looked hurt.

  “Does that mean you don’t wanna see my tits?” she said.

  Greg smiled.

  “Just go home and do your homework, dear. And try to wear something less revealing tomorrow.”

  He handed her a pass and she walked out with her shoulders slumped. Greg’s eyebrows flipped. Even when she was sulking, her ass still looked great in those jeans.

  He sat down behind his desk again to stuff his books and papers into his case. Someone came in and he looked up. It was Martha. He smiled. Seeing her always made him smile.

  “Hi Greg. Are you busy?” she said.

  He sighed and slumped back in the creaky, wooden chair.

  “I got a stack of tests to grade tonight,” he said.