The Bar Pick-Up Ch. 03: Final

Readers are encouraged to read the previous chapters, so that the whole story will make more sense. This chapter joins events already in place...

*** I turned off Comments and Voting. Too many mean-spirited comments***

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The grumpy voice repeated itself.

"Hey, Asshole, get off of her... it's my turn!"

With that growl, my rapist rolled off of me, and left me there, a sweaty mess. Legs wide, pussy gaping, and semen leaking from me, I had some small hope he wouldn't find me attractive, and leave me alone. Even release me. But there was no such luck.

Lawrence was hard to see in the darkness, for his skin was black as coal. My eyes were now dark-adjusted, and even so, he was difficult to spot. That was, until he knelt between my legs, and then I got a good look at him. Dark, obviously, but in a lot better health that the other man, whose name I never did know, he was waving his cock around, like a menacing weapon. It was thick, and about eight-inches long. What my husband would call a 'pussy-tamer'. I would find out my husband was right.

There was no ceremony, no righteous bravado or declarations, or threats. Lawrence simply got down to business. But when he lay on me, I was surprised to find that he was petite, for a man. My sized. When I am with my husband, I can lick his nipples with ease, teasing him. Lawrence and I were pretty much nose-to-nose. When Lawrence entered me, he used his hand to guide his shaft, the head full and thick, past my folds, and into my gate. My back arched, and like before, I let out a loud grunt. My mouth gaped, and my arms lay over my head in supplication. I was giving myself to Lawrence, as I was just too tired to fight him.

His initial thrust was slow. Long. Like forever. But it also made my body tingle. The fullness of his cock in me made me feel differently, a definite pleasure, one I would not be able to resist. For lack of a better term, Lawrence made me feel like a woman, and not some piece of meat to be fucked. My mouth hung open as he pushed further and further, until he was reaching that place my husband just couldn't, and only one other had in my life. It was a feeling of fullness that was somehow special. It was hard to explain, and perhaps still is, but a woman who has been completely filled, in a painless manner, will understand. Despite protestations otherwise, yes, sometimes size matters, and Lawrence, while not oh-my-God huge, was certainly not lacking.

Bottomed against my clit, he rested there, and my body began to revel in him being inside me. My voice mewed now, as every small adjustment he made tickled my clit, and we locked eyes. Seeing him in those depths of primitive lust, my open soul now open, it wasn't a decision, so much as a reaction. Lawrence and I were not going to have sex. We were going to make love.

My hands lowered to begin to caress him, his dark skin soft in my caress, as my hands started behind his head and down the back of his neck. I was able to lift my knees, and widen them, allowing Lawrence the fullest access to my depths, and my lips closed when I lifted my head, to plant a soft kiss to Lawrence's mouth. What was intended to be a soft peck of lips became a long tongue-lashing and passionate kiss, our bodies fully intertwined now, as his lips opened mine, and his tongue rushed forth, to explore my mouth. I could feel his tongue on mine, and inside my lips, rubbing my teeth, and I did nothing to stop him, except try and kiss him back. My hands slid down to his shoulders, gently groping and stroking them, my long nails a gentle tickle of his skin.

The contact between our bodies was gentle, it was kind, and it was very loving. My senses were reveling in him, letting go my feelings of fear, and even hate. I never knew the name of the other black man, the one who raped me, but I hated him for it, yet I loved being with Lawrence. Under different circumstances, I could see my husband wanting to invite Lawrence to our room, and I would willingly take him to bed with me. To be his fucktoy, and to enjoy his ravishment of me. My lover grunted as he flexed his abdomen, and I felt his knees curl under my butt, cradling my lower torso. My shins were parallel to the ground, and my knees were wide. I couldn't escape if I wanted to. Lawrence made sure I didn't want to by beginning to cycle his hips, and make his cock thrust in and out of me.

I couldn't help but mew each time he withdrew, followed by a louder moan of pleasure as he re-entered my body. My fingers were gripping whatever they were touching as he did so, until my hands finally rested on his biceps. He had some muscles, more so than the Asshole, as I came to think of him, but he wasn't bulky. He just had that wirey build of thin muscle, but there was no mistake. He had strength. He also had those thrusts, and in short order, as he thrust in me, I began to rock my hips back. Cradled as I was, there was little room to maneuver, but I writhed in his grasp, and my mouth opened to eagerly kiss him more. Our lips were sloppy, wet, and tongues slathered over each other, heedless of who was watching. I would have done the same in front of my husband, but instead I had to endure the catcalls of the Asshole.

"Yeah, yeah, Lawrence.. fuck that slut! See? She's a whore! She'll fuck anybody, even me!" his voice cackled on and on. I heard him start to grunt and then he growled abruptly, and I turned my head, to see the outline of that thin shaft spewing his jism. He had jerked off watching Lawrence make love to me.

Lawrence was wordless throughout all this, as was I, save for my panting and ever louder mews, until I was moaning steadily. My body was now on autopilot, as we kissed again, lewdly placing an exclamation point on our copulation. My pussy was pulsing, my body shaking in want as Lawrence thrust inside me, his pace growing faster, and harder. I began to see colors, stars, and I felt the familiar tingle in my core. I was going to explode.

My lover helped me along, grinding his pelvis against my clit with every third of fourth stroke, until I couldn't take it anymore, and I screamed. Loud, piercing, and unreserved, my vaginal walls trying to massage that magnificent cock inside me, to milk him for his seed. I already had two men's material in me, and a third would make little difference, other than a question of fatherhood, if that happened. AS I came, it pushed, or pulled, Lawrence over the edge, and he came inside me, frenzied thrusts with each of his spurts, black baby-batter being shoved deeper into me, to the place my cervix would dip into, to suckle up sperm into my womb. My body would make the decision. Who, if, how many. I was out of the loop, now, only able to kiss Lawrence, aggressively, this time, hot and needy after his loving me.

Unlike before, this time I caressed Lawrence's face as he still stayed inside me, small thrusts still pushing the remainder of his essence inside me. Like a plug, nothing came out, nothing leaked, as his cock sealed my vaginal tight. We kissed, long and lovingly, soft lips against each other as my tongue reached out for his. My nails gently caressed his ebony skin, and when the kiss broke, we could only look into each other's eyes. We stayed like that for many minutes, his softening shaft still inside me, as we kissed and caressed.

I still have no idea why my mind shifted, why I went from being raped by one man, to making love to another complete stranger. But where Asshole was rough, mean, and hurtful, Lawrence was kind, gentle, loving and passionate. He had a gift between his legs, too, and I wondered how many women he had been with. Because of his frame, he was likely not that popular with women, that would be, until they got to know his girth. He was now popular with me, however, and if my husband decided he wanted to share me again, Lawrence would be at the top of my list.

Asshole was making rude noises again, and apparently he had regenerated. He wanted another time with me, and I looked to Lawrence, and with soft eyes, I spoke gently. "Please... take me home... My husband..." and my voice trailed off. Lawrence and I looked into each other's eyes again, and he nodded. He rose up, and with some reluctance, his cock left my void. He stood, and his dark hands reached to help me up. Rising to my feet, it took a moment to find balance on my heels, all the while Asshole was griping and complaining loudly. Getting dressed himself, he snapped.

"Shut up, foo'!" Lawrence barked. "Knock that shit off! I'm takin' her wid' me. Bitch about it, an' I ain't gonna' bring you no mo' food an' shit!" Lawrence shook his head. "An' no mo crack o' no other stuff!"

The words between the two were surprising, and I looked questioningly to Lawrence. He simply looked at me. "Where's yer panties?"

"I have no idea..." I replied sheepishly. And it was true. They were gone.

He shrugged and held out my hand. "Let's go. You obviously got someone waitin' fer you, and I doan' wan' no cops tearin' this place apart lookin' fer ye'. Been hard 'nough finding a place to hide my brother..."

As Asshole complained again, Lawrence simply led me away. My lips flapped in surprise. Brothers? They didn't seem anything alike! I wanted to ask about this, but Lawrence was leading me away, quickly. He had to know the ins and outs of the area, but I kept tripping and almost feel a few times, from branches and snags, but eventually we emerged into a clearing, the side of the park. It wasn't the same area as before, but still, I could see the street.

Stopping, I turned to Lawrence, and in my heels, standing, I was taller than he by about four inches. I smiled to him, for my lover had also become my rescuer. "Lawrence... thank you..." And I laid my lips to his, to kiss him again, a passionate French-kiss. By this time I didn't care who saw what. My inhibitions were trashed, and my body, having been used by so many, was a mess. My dress was a mess, and semen was trailed down my thigh, and smeared. My landing strip was matted and my body was covered in a mix of sweat, spit, and body-odor. Some small debris was stuck in my hair, along with dirt and leaves. The kiss was lingering, and loving, and I broke the kiss with almost sad eyes. "How can I find you again?"

"Show up in th' park. You'll git found.", he replied. "But this side, not that side." And he punctuated his words with a jerk of his head. "Now git... I done gotta' deal with my brother..." and he simply turned and left. To me, he was a lover, but to him, I was just a piece of ass.

I made my way back to the hotel, letting the winds just do what they wanted to my skirt. I just walked, and thought about what happened. Three men, all of them unprotected, my own body unprotected. Inseminated fully. I knew I could get pregnant, the time wasn't smack in the middle of my cycle, but it wasn't in my safe-period, either. My head was much cleared now. I had to think on that. Had I been drugged? That seemed the most likely scenario. By whom? The bartender? My husband? The first guy I couldn't remember his name, or what he looked like?

I saw my husband pacing just outside the lobby, and I waved to get his attention. He literally ran to me. Was I ok? What happened? Who was he? The questions came a mile-a-minute, and I simply couldn't answer them like he wanted. I looked at him and simply said, "not here... let's get inside."

In the hotel room, I got undressed, and took a shower. My husband joined me, not to have an erotic shower, but to take care of me. I began to answer his questions, to the best of my recollection. I told him about the first guy, what I could remember, and then the Asshole, and then Lawrence, and about making love to him. That I could remember in great detail. My husband got an erection as I told him the details, and he tried to turn me, to stick his cock in me. I had to push him away, and tell him no. He was hurt by this, until I reminded him that there was a potential risk I was pregnant, and I didn't want to have to deal with the possibility of the child being his.

He was deeply worried. He explained that he had stepped around the corner, expecting me to come by with whomever I was going to be teasing, and he was going to intervene. But I went the wrong way, and he never saw me. He had been frantic for the last few hours, and was ready to call the police when I returned. I was surprised to find out how much time had elapsed, as I had no clue.

What wasn't a surprise was two weeks later and I missed my period. Two boxes of home pregnancy tests later, it was confirmed. I was pregnant. The surprise would be trying to find out who the father was, and once I delivered, I knew I was going to go back, to that park, to that clearing, and show Lawrence, as I hoped he was the father.