The Bar Pick-Up Ch. 02

Readers are encouraged to read the first chapter, to get a full idea of the beginning of the story, but for brevity, I'll summarize the story so far. A husband and wife went on a long weekend vacation, in the Southern California coastal region. Hot, dry winds, called Santa Ana's, are fierce at this time. The husband enjoys showing his wife off, before having her for his own pleasure. However, this time, things have gone farther than planned. She had several drinks with a stranger, after her husband had encouraged her to 'see if she could pick-up a guy', and instead of remaining on the hotel grounds, she was escorted off the premises, and into a nearby park. The hour is near midnight, the winds are warm and powerful, and her dress, a black satin halter with a circle skirt hemmed to her knee, was blowing and being blown about, her ability to control her dress, and her modesty hindered by the weather, and the drink. The stranger had his way with her, and then left her to her fate, as he heard someone new approaching. And so we continue on....

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I was shaking my head, trying to clear my senses as the buzz from the booze, and the sex-addled buzz in my ears was making me still heady and unsteady. The hot winds were rapidly cooling off the sweat and scent of sex from my body, and as I was afraid of not knowing who was approaching, I thought it best to make my way back to the hotel. I could feel his semen still in me, and seeping down my smeared thighs as I rolled over, and onto all fours. I was vaguely aware that I had not used any pregnancy protection, and as I felt it important, I began to clench my inner muscles, to try and expel as much of him as I could. I gave a series of soft, feminine grunt as I bore down, my legs wide as I held my torso up on my fingers, trying to use gravity to help me. I was rewarded with a plop sounding on the dry grass, and I looked between my knees, seeing a white, sticky glob of him trailing a thing strand of our combined fluids from my labia to the ground. The wind was still yanking at my skirt, and I had the fleeting thought that I was glad I wasn't wearing a maxi-or ankle-length skirt, as the hemline might be over my head, instead of blowing up onto my back. My rear was exposed, to whom I wouldn't know, but that didn't bother me nearly as much. I knew my panties were with my husband, and for some reason took comfort in that. It was really becoming difficult to stay steady, and clear my head. Something was definitely wrong with me, but I didn't know what it was. The heavy winds, and the rustling trees made it extremely difficult to hear, and since I had been warned of someone nearby, and being a stranger to the area, it was time to move.

I reached up to the nearby picnic bench, and with some dedication, managed to raise-up to be bent over on my unsteady heels. My skirt was flying about, up, down, out, and around, making me an inviting target. The ground was a tad rough, making walking all the harder, and as I raised up, just barely managing to stand upright, I felt a hand cover my mouth! The wind was howling in a gust, and the sounds of trees, leaves, and the rush of air simply allowed my stalker to grab me without a hint of his presence. I screamed, weakly, into the hand, and then felt a hot breath on my neck. Rough whiskers scratched at my skin, and a strong body-odor assailed my nose.

"Looks like ta'day's my lucky day!" the voice almost cackled.

My hands reached up to the hand and wrist veering my lips, and I tried to pull it off, my nostrils flaring as I was now heaving my chest to breathe, but in my weakened state, I couldn't. I didn't have the strength to overcome his grip. I tried to kick at him, but, again, my efforts were fuzzy, weak, and uncoordinated. Something was wrong with me, and I didn't know what it was! My captor began to pull backwards, and for a moment I feared I was going to be thrown back to the ground. Looking back, I wish he had. Instead, he began to drag me away, across the grass, deeper into the park. His other arm wrapped around my waist, and he hefted and dragged me in stages, until I lost sight of the street, into the darkness.

His voice kept cackling, laughing, almost. "Finally, pussy... I's gonna get laid!" he exclaimed with glee. "no moe' ass.. no moe' bitchin'" was becoming his mantra. I had no idea what he meant, but then, I was dazed, and barely functioning. I struggled, my hands to his arms, alternating to get free, and once, I did get my lips free, and I took a large gulp of air, preparing to scream, only to have his hand slap back over my mouth. As he spoke, as he chanted, my hopes were fading, as the surrounding lights did, until it was utter darkness. Branches were being pushed aside, snapping back and giving me small scratches here and there, while the leaves and twigs snapped under foot. I was being dragged somewhere hidden, and I gave a last gasp effort to get free. I tried to kick at his legs, finally connecting once. I think I hit his shin, and he howled loudly. He dropped me as he fell to the ground, and I landed on my back. Blinking hard, I tried to get up, rolling over to my side to reach my hands and knees. The hem of my skirt was at my waist as I rolled, exposing me, but I didn't care. I was scared now, really scared. I couldn't see anything in the darkness, and heard only howling winds, the constant rush of trees, brush and branches, and the creep who grabbed me.

He was cussing a blue streak, and as I was now on my hands and knees, I felt his vengeance. He lifted my face by my hair, and slapped me, viciously, across my face and head, knocking me back on my side, and making me see stars. I moaned softly as I blinked hard, only to find my hair being grabbed up again, a full hand-hold and he began to yank. The pull on my hair made me lurch and I jumped forward, almost landing flat on my face at his feet, until he rose, and pulled my up by my hair. His cackling voice suddenly grew menacing.

"Bitch, you doan' wanna cross me, cunt...we far enough away now tha' no one hears you... Or will find you." The voice and the threats made me feel a chill down my body, even though I was dazed. Through the haze it was clear to me... 'Don't make this guy angry'. He then slapped his hand back over my mouth and yanked me by the hair, using his new handhold to guide me, until we entered a clearing. I was surprised by what I saw. Instead of a clump of dried branches and trees, there was a home, of sorts. A tattered mattress, actually, now that I had time to look, two of them on opposite sides of the clearing. A small table made from scraps of wood. Small shelves, again made of scraps of lumber held some canned food, and a central pit was lined with heavy stones. A fire pit. Overhead was a tattered canvas tarp, dark, and it was tied to some trees, spreading it open. All in all, it looked like a camp site. Just one that was used for a long time.

I was again thrust to the ground, this time onto a mattress, albeit cross-wise. Landing sideways, my modesty a long-forgotten goal, as my dress was all about me, I watched as he undid his pants. The task was very simple for him, really. He had a rope for a belt, holding up what were obviously way-oversized pants, and with the slip-knot yanked, his pants fell to his ankles. Stepping out of them was similarly easy, and there he was, nearly naked, his very dark skin contrasted by gray hair, even a few strands in his pubic region. He was thin, almost gaunt, perhaps, and again, his odor could not be disguised. He had not bathed in some time. His thin, almost gnarled hand went to his cock, and he began to stroke it as he advanced on me.

"What'dya think o'this, cunt? Goan' get some fine white pussy...' he leered at me, his voice almost a cackle. "This ol' black snake been in th' sack too long." He added. "Well, not countin' ol' Lawrence..."

My eyes bugged widely at the inference. This guy, this bum, he was having homosexual sex, and now he was aiming to stick his dick in me! I started to scramble, to get my feet under me, but as I got back to my knees again, he was on me, his body crashing into mine, the impact slamming me onto the mattress.

"Noooo!" I cried out. "Let me GOOOOO!!!!" I yelled, giving all I had to squirm out of his grasp. I grunted as I struggled, trying to get out from under him, yet all I did was succeed in winding up under him, on my back, and his legs between mine. My body was going to be taken. Sensing his superior position, and his advantage, he began to dry hump me, his dark snake rubbing along my folds, the top of his cock rubbing my fleshy petals, and despite my fear and fight, sending shots of pleasure through to my brain. I tried to pummel him, to use my balled up fists to hit him, but he took one blow to his chest, and used it to grab my wrist, and yank my hand over my head. I was shocked at how strong he was, for being so thin! I grunted and grimaced as I struggled, my feet kicking at mid-air, all the while his cock was rubbing at my petals, and my body was reacting.

My nipples were somehow even more sensitive, and more and more, the jostling of them against the satin material holding them made me feel more pleasure, just as his cock was teasing me. His pubic bone was colliding against my clit now, and despite my protests, my voice was declaring the rise of pleasure. A soft grunt now escaped parted lips, as my folds were now parted, and nothing was stopping him. He just continued to cackle, like he was having the most fun of his life, and how he was having white pussy for the first time in ages.

"Goanna' breed me a white bitch! Fine white slut..." was becoming his mantra. As he would talk, his mouth gaped open,and the guy would drool, spittle splashing on my face, and exposed chest, making me shudder, and yet his spit was mixing with my sweat, cooling my body. Then he switched his motions, and he paused, holding his spear up, one hand dropping to his cock. He used his fingers to slid the cock head against my pussy, until he found my entrance. My hands were still on his shoulders, and even as I let out a long and loud wail of pleasure, it was mixed with despair. My fear was being realized, he was fucking me, and I not only couldn't stop him, I couldn't help but feel the pleasure of his cock. My body was already well-lubricated from my previous encounter, and he slid into me easily, yet while he wasn't overly gifted, I could feel him as his cock plundered my body. My back arched, and my hands still pushed at his shoulders, my legs flailing, all hope now lost. He had me for his own.

He wasted no time in beginning to fuck me, pulling out and then pushing in, long, full strokes that were very, very quick. Each time his pelvis smacked my clit, I let out a loud 'uhn!", and with his frequency, there was a lot of my voice, along with his. His drooling seemed to get worse, and at one point, my mouth gaping open for air, and expression of pleasure, some of his spit rained into my mouth. I coughed, and tried to spit it out, but it made no difference. More of our bodily fluids were being shared. It is said sex can be passionate, and pleasurable, but it isn't often talked about how messy it can be. And this guy was making me a mess. His body's sweat, laced with his own body odor, smeared with mine, and I began to take on his smell, a fact that was making me want to retch, and yet I could not, for his cock was rapid-firing into me, making me shiver and shake. His final gesture was to cum in me, fast, and with absolutely no warning. Some grunts, and then a loud bellow, almost a high-pitched cry, and he pushed his cock fully into me, holding it inside me, and his semen spurted into my cavity. I don't know how much, or how virile he was, but he was doing his utmost to mix his genetics with mine, his sperm competing with that of my previous lover.

I simply gave up now, I was beaten. My hands fell to the mattress at my waist, and my heels to the dirt and leaves, and I lay there, letting him do what he wanted. His hips made small, slow thrusts, as he gave me more of him, pushing every drop he had into my body, man's natural instinct to fertilize a woman. He then surprised me by dropping his face to mine, and as I was gasping for air, his tongue attacked mine, his lips mashed to mine, as he kissed me. I squealed, somehow rationalizing that without kissing him, it was rape, but with the kiss, I was cheating. Kissing meant intimacy, it meant desire, and I wanted neither of them. Yet I couldn't fight him off, as I was exhausted. I was simply too tired to care. My head was still bussy, and my limbs weak, and it didn't matter to me how many times he would fuck me, or who else wanted to. I would not stop them. I couldn't.

The kiss seemed to last an eternity, but was broken by a voice off to one side... "Hey, asshole..." a darker, more sinister-sounding voice chimed in. "Get off her... I wanna' turn."

I turned to see, but couldn't see much in the darkness, but I could tell the man's shape, his naked form, and since he was nearly invisible, I deduced he had to be black, and the only inescapable conclusion.... It was Lawrence...