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Giggling a naughty grin as Scott pulled the needle from my arm, I turned onto my hands and knees. I love fucking on heroin, and as Scott and Jamaal’s hands explored my body, my back, my ass, the dope hit me fast. I was naked and horny and well-paid for my efforts tonight, come what may–money had exchanged hands, introductions had been made, and after a few minutes of petting and kissing, we shared a syringe. Well, I myself shared the syringe. Jamaal refused the heroin as an act of morality, which I found a little strange, he pitched in a couple hundred bucks to have sex with someone other than his wife. Scott wanted to, he truly wanted to, but he backed down once he felt the light prick of the needle against his vein. Afraid, I let him inject me, partly to show him if a little girl like me could handle the shot, certainly a healthy young man like him could. He didn’t go for it. Hence, although offered to all, I shared the heroin with myself.
I closed my eyes, shivering in my doped horniness, awaiting my gentlemen to hurry the fuck up and do something. Playfully I wiggled my ass at them and moaned in mock heat, wanting them to take advantage of my horny little high. I gripped the mattress of my bed, awaiting something, pretty sure what, perhaps hands and mouths on my ass, mmhhh I work so hard to keep my ass looking like this, was so much easier in my teens to keep my ass tight and hot. Maybe a swift impaling, feeling an overly enthusiastic cock inside some hole, any hole. I heard man chatter and zippers opening and clothing rustling to the floor, and in the moments of anticipation, my mind wandered, even for these fleeting seconds, into a daydream.
And in all my daydreams I picture my Michael in flight, his vast wings spread like a condor as he glided high atop the Phoenix sky. And I am there in this heaven with him, we two naked and coupled, his strong hands holding me about my waist and stomach, his cock firmly embedded in my pussy. I moan and cum as he holds me high above downtown, the hot wind blowing my hair back, my hot body bucking against his in a constant state of orgasm. Here, I feel him holding me out, as if to drop me, away from his body, pumping his cock in and out of me; there, he is pinning me to the side of the uppermost windows of the Bank One Building or some other skyscraper in the pathetic pantheon of the Phoenix skyline, fucking the daylights out of me as he pins me against the glass.
At some point we come to a provocative spot somewhere in the vast city, perhaps an alley, perhaps Encanto Park, perhaps the middle of the Black Canyon Freeway at rushhour, where he holds me down to the earth, the sidewalk, the concrete, the grass, and forcefully and relentlessly fucks me until he cums inside me. So often I dreamed of him pinning me to the hood of some sportscar on the freeway and fucking the complete Jesus out of me in front of the whole city, or against the wall in some dark alley where only strays and junkies can hear me whimper. For this incredibly brief moment my Michael bent me over a park bench in some park, for all to see, with his cock deep inside my ass.
My eyes opened suddenly and my breath left my lungs with a grunt as I felt male hands on my hips and a cock, not sure whose, slowly being forced up my ass. The drugs were working so good tonight, and though I vaguely remember something about Scott and Jamaal being in the room, as far as I was concerned I was in that park with my Michael, him holding me against the bench, pumping his goldencock in and out of my ass.
I clenched the pillow tightly, feeling the cock push into my anus, it might as well have been the bench railing. I squealed softly as Jamaal–Scott sat to face me, so I assume it was Jamaal inside me from behind–gasped, pushing his cock up into me, holding me by my hips, his breath nervous. It hurt a little, feeling my sphincter stretch to accomodate him, but he is no Michael, and I thought of Michael inside me as Jamaal started to fuck me.
“You are so fucking hot, Livie,” Scott said to me as he ran his hands over my back. I mewed as Jamaal slowly fucked me, my eyes still closed, my mouth moaning softly, Michael fucking me in the park racing through my mind.
Jamaal moaned like a man trying to impress me, with a lot of deep inhalations, as if trying to hold back a tidal wave. It was a nice anal fuck, not to take anything away from Jamaal, it was a paid-for anal fuck, it was what it was, and I found pleasure in it, I always do. But Jamaal got something in his head, I don’t know what, where he had to impress me with his abilities. Apparently he wasn’t impressing his wife, or she wasn’t impressing him. For whatever reason he fucked me with his marriage band still on his finger.
“MMmmnnhhhh say my name baby.” Jamaal said, trying to hold back his cum. I was in my own heaven, squealing a little as Jamaal fucked me in my bed and Michael made love to me in the park.
“Take your time, dude,” Scott said as he rubbed my shoulders, steadying me, “we got all night, and Livie is so fucking hot.”
“Say my name, bitch,” Jamaal said with more urgency. tuzla escort He pulled me onto his cock harder and faster. My pussy was so wet and needing to be filled. My tits jiggled as they hung from my torso. I gripped the pillow tighter and whimpered hotly as he and Michael each fucked me hard and good in their own way.
I tried to talk amid my whimpers, not really sure anymore who was inside me, Scott or Jamaal or Michael. I love you Michael so very much, that is the name I chose to focus on, that is the cock inside me I choose to cum hard on, his are the hands on me, guiding me, making me convulse.
“Ooo–o-uuhh Michaellhhh…” I yelped in a hot little whisper.
Jamaal slowed for a moment, not stopping, just wondering what I said. “Come on baby,” he said, struggling to hold his own orgasms back, “say my name again.”
“God, that is so hot Livie,” Scott exclaimed as he stroked his cock, wanting to get inside me.
“Fuck that, she is going to tell me who is fucking her and say my name.” Jamaal was growingly pissed, not just because I said another man’s name while he was with me, but because Scott found it so hot. He thrust his cock hard, almost viciously, into me again with the demand, “Say it you little whore!”
I whimpered and squealed against the park bench as Michael fucked me deep and smooth, not caring who was watching.
“Oooohh god Michaellnnhh…” escaped from my moaning lips.
Jamaal gripped my waist tight and started fucking me harder and harder. “Say it! Say Jamaal!”
“Come on, dude, Livia is so hot and high, lighten up on her.” Scott, my defender, lightly tried to pull Jamaal off of me.
“Get your cracker hands off me you faggot,” Jamaal, the paragon of morality, exclaimed to Scott as he analraped me. “I paid three hundred dollars for this fuck, and she is damn well going to know who is fucking the shit out of her.” The negative energy seemed so far away as Michael lovingly and firmly held my waist and fucked me smooth and hard on the distant bench.
I felt my blood racing and my heart rumbling behind my tits. I clawed hard at the headboard as my pussy clenched tight, desperate to be filled, leaking. I shrieked as the cock moved in and out of me with growing insistence.
“Say it, Olivia.” Jamaal was trying to shout over my squeals.
“Michael!” I shouted as I gripped the back of the bench and my archangel pumped my ass.
“Say it you dumb fucking bitch!” Jamaal was going so fast and was losing control.
“Michael…oooohhh shit Michael baby!” I started to cum fantastically.
Jamaal spanked my ass hard. “Say my name you…ooohhhhhh” His hands shook on my hips as he started to cum hard inside me.
I arched, feeling the hot cum squirt into my ass. My pussy was so tight and hot and swollen and begging to have a cock in it. I came hard, and as far as I was concerned my Michael made me cum.
Jamaal pushed me to the mattress and jacked his cock off violently, a few more jets of cum plopping onto my asscheeks. I squirmed on the mattress, squealing the name Michael as I came in my heroin-assisted orgasmic state.
“My god, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Scott said down on the bed and massaged Jamaal’s cum all over my ass as I mewed in bliss, my Michael having fucked me back to heaven.
“You both are fucking crazy.” Jamaal, naked with spent cock in hand, scooped up his clothes and stormed out of the bedroom. “That bitch is probably the hottest girl in the hood, but she is also the stupidest.” He slammed the door, and after another moment I heard his slam the door to the hall.
Scott sat there for the longest time, awaiting for me to come down from my high, rubbing Jamaal’s cum all over my hips. “You are so beautiful, Olivia,” he whispered to me as the last of my orgasm swept through me, making me shiver in the sheets, “I would love to be your Michael if you want me to be.”
Though he so wanted to get into my head, Scott, bless him, didn’t get it. Nobody these days seems to get it. I don’t think even I get it. I passed in and out of consciousness as Scott rolled me onto my back, placed his hands on my neglected tits and squeezed, fucked me and came a couple of times over the next hour or so, and I heard such lovely words come from him, wanting to be Michael, wanting to be desired by me, wanting to be validated, in his own way, just as Jamaal wanted the same validation. And every time I opened my eyes for a brief moment, I saw Michael over me, his cock twitching inside me, his strong fingers kneeding my swollen breasts, the wet sheets might as well have been freshly watered grass in the park. It was Michael’s back I clawed at, Michael’s cock I cummed on, and though Scott got off over and over in me calling out the name Michael, surely he must have known I was somewhere else.
Darryl was so pissed when I told him I was pregnant. Not so much the fact that I was knocked up–I had had an abortion before, so he knew I was willing to be talked into another one, should the moment arise. Though he was irked that, in the realization that either tuzla escort bayan an abortion or a pregnancy would mean time where I couldn’t work, he would be losing good money with me out, that was not the source of his anger. No, this time he was pissed when he heard I was pregnant because I told him he wasn’t the father.
It was fine for me to get pregnant and have an abortion, as far as he was concerned, the fewer babies in the world, the better. And since he had me whenever he wanted me–which was about once every three days or so–he felt he had some control over my body and hence could just order me to abort at his command. Up until now, I had no problem with it; most of the men I was with these days were nothing but johns and junkies, so severing any potential longterm ties to these men was fine by me. The last thing I would want from these men is a child, for a plethera of reasons, all of them very very bad. I had sex with them for a living, that was enough and even vile.
When I told him I tested positive with the little drugstore kit I got, he thought for sure it was a very routine event. He insisted none of his girls use a condom, and I even agreed with it, provided that he provide us with johns with a degree of hygiene. He could live with us getting abortions, but not with us getting disease. There was something twisted in all of this, certainly. As for me, I have never asked a man to wear a condom–many have on their own insistence, bit I never made them, primarily because this is my choice of vocation, my body, and my risk. I want to be able to feel my partner inside me, not the latex. I want to have sex, not just a business transaction. And I go into every such event with this in mind, wanting to momentarily bond with him like a woman does with her man, even if it is fleeting. If I wanted latex inside me, I would masturbate with a dildo and let men pay to watch. To me, that is the same as getting laid with a condom on. As far as I am concerned, you are not putting yourself at any real risk with a rubber, and hence you cannot truly get into the fuck without the slight bit of fear. Any girl can spread her legs and let some fella do his nasty deeds between them if a condom is used. You are less of a woman if you insist on them.
When I told Darryl he wasn’t the father, he shrugged again, not diminished in the thought of me still aborting the fetus.
It was when I told him I was keeping the baby that he lashed out at me, and even in his lashing, he intially was controlled.
“Well, if you’re gonna have a baby, and it ain’t my baby, it best be a nigga child so everyone can al least think it’s mine.”
I told him the father was white, and he slapped me hard.
Seething, he said between grit teeth his little soliloquy:
“After all I’d done for you all this time, you’re gonna repay me with a white baby? Who the fuck you think you are? Out of all the girls I got, you the only one with an apartment to yourself. I give you the best paying men. I bought you a cellphone, which got me in trouble because your dumb ass called 911 with it and traced it to me. I paid for every abortion and every surgery to keep you looking so fine. I got you where everyone in Phoenix would rather have your 34-year-old raggedy ass than the firm teenage pussy most niggas sell. You ain’t got to walk the streets, you ain’t got to make calls, you ain’t got to do anything in this world but keep yourself pretty and fuck whoever I tell you to fuck.
“I don’t give a shit who you fuck in your own time, so long as it don’t fuck up you taking care of business. You been doin’ this since you said 16, so I know you ain’t a fucking idiot. You’ve been doing some strange fucking things lately, and I’ve turned a blind eye, because I know you know what you are doing and we make a lot of fucking money together. First there was Jerry who you wigged out on a few months ago. Then you stand up Walter Edgar, who bitched me out for paying a grand for you and you stood him up. Then on that same night you call 911 and some whacked out cracker kills another whacked out cracker in that same apartment I bought for you. You piss off Jamaal because you wouldn’t say his name in bed, what kind of bullshit is that? I got some nigga cop threatening me with prison if I don’t tell him who the fuck is William Sunderman, which means, whatever little secrets you got going in that apartment is fucking up my world. I ain’t going to prison alone baby, I don’t care how hot you are or how much money you make me, if I go to jail because of you, you and everyone else is going too.
“So you have two choices as far as I am concerned. You’ve had the first choice before, so it shouldn’t be too tough to get your mind wrapped around it and get it all set up and dealt with. I can get that thing in you aborted within 72 hours, and only you, me, the doc, and God will ever know, and the doc can be paid to forget all about it. The other is you will lose your Phoenix privileges, and I don’t give a fuck what happens to you after that. You live a real good life, baby, and you know you got it good. There are mamas escort tuzla in this neighborhood working two jobs to keep their families fed, and all you gotta do is fuck whatever I set you up to fuck. Nothing but a crackwhore, and you live middle fucking class, ain’t that a bitch!
“You can keep your cracker baby and leave town with nothing, not even the clothes on your back, or you can give it up, live in your apartment, make me money, and continue how you’ve loved to live all these years. Don’t matter to me. You make me a ton of cash, but I can replace you [snap of fingers] that easy.
“Then again, if you start showing, don’t think I won’t beat you down till I make that kid go away myself. Think hard, Livie, you got more to lose than I do, but I ain’t above doin’ what I gotta do.”
With that, Darryl stormed out of my apartment, frustrated on many levels. He had hoped to just fuck me and give me my itinerary for the next few days, just like always. Didn’t even get that. I touched my face where he slapped me, thinking Michael hit me so much harder than that on our first encounter. I am convinced the archangel’s baby is inside me. I’ve heard Darryl berate other girls in the past, hearing men try to tear me down is nothing new. Even the threat of being out on the street is old hat. But I have a piece of Michael inside me, and it’s a whole new ballgame. For the first time since I started selling myself years ago, I am frightened.
I feigned sleep as Carlos rolled out of my bed, dressed, and left, leaving a note on my nightstand. The morning light was streaming through the window, the window I always leave open, you never know when Michael might be coming home. This is no safe neighborhood by any means, but some leave a porchlight on when a loved one is gone for the night. I leave the bedroom window open.
I sat still as I heard the doors close and Carlos starting his car and leaving. I sat up and took the note:
I HAVE BEEN IN LOVE WITH YOU SINCE THE DAY I WAS BORN, OLEVEA. MARRY ME.
I just met the man three days ago. This was our second date, hence our second fuck. His ability to express himself verbally was about as off as his ability to spell my name. While I have no doubt he has already fostered strong feelings for me, I am not sorry for wadding up the note and tossing it under the bed. In his own way he is a sweet, if inarticulate, man, Hispanic I think, lovingly aggressive or aggressively loving, however you want to think of a man who just loves to hold you down and fuck, no small talk, just caresses and cock.
Darryl had set me up with Carlos a few days ago, but he promised he would bring back a healthy bag of uncut coke from Honduras if I would fuck him again. This was the morning-after of that second time, and though he still had no coke, I had a degree of faith in him. His words were gentle in his note, had I grown so hard with time and heartache that such words are so conveniently thrown aside? Maybe I was the first woman who made him feel like a man. Maybe he is just infatuated with my looks. It bothers me that people fall in love so quickly and easily, as if they willingly will vault themselves into the same canyon over and over, knowing the pain to come.
Just like my true love, Michael. Haven’t seen him since he impregnated me a few weeks ago, which was the same night everything happened with Walter and Jordan and the police. I stood and looked in the mirror, naked, breasts a little swollen, but no longer sure if that is from the implants in them, from men groping them all night ever night, or from someone being inside me. My belly was still flat and firm as always, my ass still as hot as ever, so no one outside of myself and Darryl has the slightest notion that I am with child. Even my infrequent Michael is dull to this. Think about it, I have been with this Carlos guy twice, which is the same amount of times I’ve been with Michael, and whereas Carlos is just another john, Michael is all I think of. Darryl has had me every three or four days since he purchased me from another pimp about five years ago, heck, I’ve sucked Daddy Vernon’s cock a dozen times or so, both with far more hours of being inside me in one form or another than Michael. Yet it is Michael’s baby that is inside me, that I covet, that I defend.
At least I am pretty sure it is his baby. If it is, and I believe it is, shouldn’t I be a little less reckless? At least give up the booze and heroin and coke? I may never give up the prostitution, but if what I carry in me is so beautiful, how shitty am I to do what I am doing to it with my other addictions?
Speaking of which…
I reach into the bottom drawer of my dresser, push the jeans and stockings to one side, and pull out a small box I save for when I am alone and want to alter the thoughts racing in my skull. I sit back down on the bed and open. My eyes glimmer sweetly as they glance over the small collection of paraphrenalia therein. I grab a small vial of crank and jiggle it a little, seeing how much I have to enjoy, maybe two doses, one for tonight, one for down the road. I don’t feel like sharing with anyone right now, so maybe half a dose will do. I take the wrapper off a fresh syringe and poke the top of the vial, drawing out the fluid. Just a little, though, just a nice buzz today.
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