Children of Sin Ch. 3

"Oh God," Leslie gasped out. She felt the warmth leave her body, and she couldn't believe she could have let this go so far. The porcelain of the toilet rang with the stream of piss that squeezed out of her. She let out a sigh of relief, barely believing how much beer she had drank that night. As her bladder contracted and she squeezed out the last drops of urine from her system, she just sat there on the toilet for a while, enjoying her relief. She reached over and tore a couple squares of toilet paper off of the roll, folded it, then patted herself dry. She dropped the toilet paper into the bowl, but allowed her fingers to linger over the soft skin of her labia. She could feel her genitals tingling, more than likely a result of the beer as well, and she let her eyes shut as her mind drifted. She started to wonder about where Samuel had been all night...

She opened her eyes as she felt the flesh push past her wet cunny lips. She looked down and saw Samuel looking right at her. Pamela couldn't believe she was going to do this. She had very little experience with sex, having only gone "all the way" with one boy once. He had luckily been a very gentle and experienced lover, and she flashed back to the night of her junior prom. She remembered the sharp pain when he split her maiden-head, but she also remembered the soothing pleasure that followed. She looked down at Samuel, a blank, far away expression on his face, his eyes only showing an animal instinct inside. She looked at his strange orange hair, at his sweat-covered chest, and his slight gut that moved up and down with his breath. He wasn't just a geek now, and Pamela finally began to see something inside him that she had been slowly realizing throughout the past week. She was starting to see what made Leslie so attracted to him, and she decided she wanted that for herself. Taking one last, deep breath, she eased herself down...

"Whoosh!" The flood of liquid began to drain, and Leslie just stood there and stared. Finally shaking herself awake, she laughed at herself having watched the contents of the toilet swirl down the bowl. Wake up, girl, you didn't have that much to drink, did you? She washed her hands in the sink, splashing a little water on her face to sober herself up a bit. Feeling a bit more aware of the world now, she dried herself and exited from the cozy bathroom. As she walked down the hall, she could hear the loud music and laughter coming from downstairs, and she could hear muffled voices behind closed doors. Suddenly, a sound caught her attention to her right. Getting closer, she heard something like a high-pitched shriek. At first thinking it was laughter or something, she approached the door, listening carefully. Her inquisitiveness was rewarded with another shriek, and what sounded like a groan.

"Oh my God," Leslie thought, her eyes getting large with excitement. She stifled a giggle, barely believing what was going on behind that door, but she recognized the sounds immediately. Someone was having sex in there, and that thought got Leslie's little clit to tingle even more. Her lust, her dangerous little secret, suddenly wanted to come out, and she tried her best to suppress it, knowing that it wasn't safe for her to get so hot and bothered here. But she couldn't bring herself to walk away from that door, listening to the sounds of pleasure increase. The smile, that deadly little smile of hers, suddenly crept up on her face again, and she just had to find out what was going on. Looking around to make sure she wouldn't get caught, she slowly reached for the doorknob...

"Oh God! Fuck me, you shit!" Pamela was going wild. She bounced and writhed on top of him, riding his hard dick like a cow-girl. Samuel's glazed-over eyes had shut, but he wasn't asleep, as he grasped at her hips, grinding her into his pelvis. Pamela looked down to see her beautifully trimmed pussy grind into his thick bed of pubic hair. She only had a small tuft of hair above the crest of her clit, a tiny bush of black, curly hairs, and she felt beautifully sinful as she felt his hair brushing against her bald lips. Her head rocked back as she abandoned herself to the feeling, her eyes closing at the incredible way his cock filled her up. It had been a little uncomfortable at first, trying to put his thick manhood inside of her barely experienced cunt, but now her head was spinning in lust as he stretched her. God, no wonder Leslie loved fucking this man, as Pamela was sure the little slut had been doing. She looked back down at him, at his face that was contorted with pleasure.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you? Do I fuck you as good as that little slut? Huh? Do I fuck you as good as Leslie does?" she spat at him. He seemed to groan in acceptance, and she began to fuck him even harder. She had never felt so righteous, so victorious before, and she didn't even care about her little plan anymore. She had Samuel in her own clutches now, and she began to moan as this thought edged her to what had to be her fourth orgasm of the night. She bucked her hips madly, and he let out an animal growl that filled the little bedroom. As she felt herself flood with her own orgasm, she began to feel his hot seed spill into her. They both came, sharing each other's rhythm, their bodies rocking together in orgasmic splendor. She fell on top of him, clutching at him around the neck, pulling his body hard into her as her body arched in bliss. Their bellies slapped together as they rode the last intense waves together, and she finally collapsed. She panted, moaning as her final orgasm ebbed away through her body. That's when she realized another presence in the room.

Leslie couldn't move. She couldn't talk. She just stood at the doorway, watching her lover and Pamela cum together, moaning like a couple of banshees. She had stopped breathing all together, and she began to feel light in the head. As soon as Pamela turned her head, their eyes locked, both of them sharing a shocked moment. Leslie nearly fainted right there, and had to catch herself on the door frame, and Pamela began to grin. In this sudden, embarrassing instance, fate had given Pamela exactly what she wanted, and she watched as the horror of the situation left Leslie numb and unable to speak. Leslie could no longer feel the tingling in her genitals, or the delight of her lust. She suddenly felt very, very cold, as well as nauseated. Her eyes darted between Samuel's blissful face and the junction of their sex, Pamela's glistening and stretched cunt oozing out Samuel's love-syrup. Her green eyes finally returned to the gaze of Pamela's blue eyes, and she could feel her legs give out from under her. She fell, sliding down the door-jam, her hand still clutching the doorknob, and she felt as though her heart was about to stop beating. Pamela's grin began to disappear, and an unease came to her as she realized how seriously she just screwed things up. It wasn't supposed to feel like this.

Looking up one more time with pleading, tear-filled eyes, Leslie began to breath again, in short gasps. Her chest hurt, and she felt like she was going to vomit. Immediately, she got up on uneasy feet, and after a final gaze at the scene, covered her mouth and ran, slamming the door behind her. Pamela got up, not really sure if she should go after her. Still weak from the powerful sex she had just had not even a full minute ago, she could only fall back down on the bed. Her own breath began to rasp sporadically inside her throat.

She jerked her head around and looked at his face. He was smiling, but totally asleep. She suddenly began to feel a coldness creeping up from the pit of her stomach, and she shivered. Her mind fell back to a warm day in spring two years ago, standing beside Jessica Jameson's casket, at her funeral. Her eyes stung with tears that flowed freely, her chest heaving with soft sobs as she watched the priest spreading the dirt on her coffin, uttering the words, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."

She looked around at the room, the room of a small girl, not unlike her own room. Her mind drifted back to junior beauty pageants and dance recitals. To tea-parties with her stuffed animal friends that she swore talked back to her. She remembered birthday parties and the proud look on her parents' faces when she came home with the first prize for her first-grade spelling bee. She remembered how happy and secure she felt in her own bed. How the outside world couldn't touch her, not while she was safe in her own bed. Why was she thinking about all of this? Why now?

He slept with her cradled in her arms, but his warm body didn't comfort her or warm her at all. That night, she slept on a tear-stained pillow.

He seemed to wake up with a start. Samuel wasn't sure what it was, but he had a very certain feeling of dread in his heart. Lying on his back, he could only stare at the white ceiling, trying hard to remember what had happened. He remembered the party, remembered drinking and laughing with some guys, and then things started to get fuzzy. His eyes squeezed shut as a dull pain crept into his skull and a wave of slight nausea hit him hard. Shit, he really must have over-done it. He still couldn't shake this heavy feeling off of him. He tried to sit up, but couldn't.

"God, how much did I drink?" he thought to himself. His head was throbbing, and he tried to bring his hands to his face, but couldn't move his left arm. It felt heavy, and at first he thought maybe it was asleep. Turning his head slightly and squinting his eyes open, he looked at his arm... and saw a naked woman lying on top of it.

Immediately, Samuel's eye's opened fully. "Holy Shit!" he thought, "Is that who I think that is?"

No doubt about it. The curly black hair, the beautiful face, the pouty lips that still showed a hint of her purple lipstick from last night. Yep, he was in bed with Pamela. He sat up on his side, not sure how he was going to get his arm out from under her without waking her up. Somewhere in the back of his mind, an old joke about "coyote ugly" was circling in his head, but he didn't laugh. This girl was sure as hell not ugly, but he didn't want her to wake up next to him either. His heart now beating hard in his chest, Samuel looked around the unfamiliar room. He saw a window, and could see the light of the rising sun creeping in. His mind raced, trying desperately to figure out what the hell was happening, when Pamela's blue eyes opened and looked up at him.

"You're awake," she said matter of factly. She didn't smile. She didn't move. She just observed the scared, confused look on his face.

"Pamela... w-what... what the hell is this?" Samuel was starting to freak out. But he didn't have to say any more. His memory, though still very fuzzy and foggy, was starting to come back. He could remember being dragged up the stairs by his arm, and he could remember a purple dress, and he could remember being pushed onto the bed, but he still wasn't able to put together all the pieces. Not until his searching eyes caught the light violet dress, laying on the floor next to the bedroom door.

Pamela could see the horror of recognition finally creep across his face, and that's when she finally moved. Both 18 year olds sat up, clutching tightly to the blankets and sheets in an automatic sense of guilt for their nakedness, despite the obvious fact that they must have already seen it all. Samuel didn't even look at Pamela; he just stared into his open palms, trying to calm himself down. Pamela didn't look at Samuel; she was looking at a teddy bear that she was holding in her arms. Its black eyes looked up at her, seeing everything that was happening this morning as well as everything that had happened last night. Part of her wanted to throw the stuffed animal to the ground, but for some reason, she could only hold onto it tighter.

"Pamela..." Samuel was finally able to say, not turning to look at her, "did we...?"

"Yes," she answered. She felt like crying, but knew that she was dry of any tears. She turned her head and looked at him again, looking at his bare back and shoulders, moving with each of his deep breaths. The hair on the back of his head was a mess, and the black, undyed part of his hair was showing through his orange mane.

Samuel could feel the nausea rushing on again, but didn't move. Shutting his eyes, the pain of his hangover was almost too brutal to bear, but he tried to ignore it. There were some questions he needed answering.

"Samuel," she said, pausing for his attention. He finally turned around, looking at her. Naked, but covered with a pink blanket and clutching a stuffed bear to her chest, she looked innocent and scared. Terrified, in fact.

"What?" he asked, lightly, turning his eyes away. He didn't want to trust her. He knew he had been fooled into coming here. He had let his guard down, and she had used it to get him here, but something was telling him to listen to her.

"Samuel. Do you..." she started asking, but paused, scared of the answer to the question she was about to ask, "...do you... love... Leslie?"

Samuel didn't move or turn to acknowledge her question. He sat, very soberly, for nearly a minute, until he finally answered.

"Yes, Pamela," he said, his voice serious and low. "Yes, I've been in love with her ever since I first met her."

She could suddenly feel tears well up in her eyes, tears that she thought she had cried out already.

"Why?" she suddenly burst out, unable to hold back any of her sadness, her guilt, her shame, her anger. Her emotions were so greatly infused and jumbled that she could find no other way to express them except for through her tears, and her quiet plea of, "Why? Why is she so perfect in your eyes? Why do you show her so much affection?"

She quickly reached across the small bed and grasped at his shoulder, but he didn't turn. He remained stock-still, facing the wall.

"Why, damn it?" she nearly screamed, but her voice was getting too hoarse for her to raise her volume. She shook at him, trying to get him to look at her, to hold her, to do something to aknowledge her existance. She continued, her voice getting lost in her sobs, "Am I so disgusting to you that you can't look at me?"

"No, Pamela," Samuel finally answered, his voice unchanged. "No, you're not disgusting." With that, he got out of the bed, and grabbed his clothes in silence. She watched him through wet eyes from the bed, watched him silently dress himself. As he reached for the doorknob, she gave one final plea.

"Please stay with me," her voice cracked.

He didn't look back as he left the tiny bedroom, without another word being spoken between them.

To be continued in Chapter 4: The Child of Greed