Cocaine Rodeo

(Author's note: This story in no way condones or advocates for the use of any illegal substances or solicitation of illegal prostitution. Everything following this note is a work of fiction. The views within this story are held only by the fictional characters depicted and serves only to express {Well really... in this instance cover up} a deeper issue and a root cause. These are not actual directions or an actual "how to" and should not be taken as such. Any resemblance to places, people and experiences are completely coincidental and should be taken as such.)

Rough breakup. A flurry from the previous night's debauchery and before I knew it I was holding somebody's hand as I followed her down a dark alleyway that led to a door, completely unmarked. There was no signage of any kind, but beyond the dumpster we passed, the remainder of the alleyway seemed remarkably clean and well kept.

I wish I could tell you how to get there, but frankly, it's all a bit of a haze. I waited in a lobby on a plush, burgundy, velour couch with statues of naked men and women surrounding me. Apart from the receptionist, there was no one else there. I heard a door opening and closing down the hallway and in that space of a few seconds were laughter, moaning and screams.

The receptionist handed me a digital tablet and on it was a menu with descriptions of "experiences" meant to stimulate and titillate. Items such as "Basic Threesome," "The audiophile," "Smoker's Delight," "Sensory Deprivation and Focused Stimulation," and oh so many more. I had never seen anything like it. Even here.

Drunkenly, I read and read, honestly drawn in by it all. And as I was reading the description of what I would ultimately order, I was holding the tablet my finger holding a spot to continue scrolling down... actually, I have no idea what happened, but the screen flashed black and red causing me a moment's panic thinking I had broken the thing. I was about to flag the receptionist when a new menu came up. It read "Secret Menu Items for the Fiend".

This is where there seemed to be some things that made my jaw drop. Sticker prices ranging from five to six figures. A couple of them I was too afraid to click based on the names, and honestly I'm afraid to even name them now considering the possibility it could be searched online by whoever ran the institution I found myself in (and I can't fathom any way a place like this could operate without friends in high places) or it might have me placed on a CIA/FBI watchlist... I'll say this though. As I read many of those menu items, I was scared.

This was one of the cheaper items. One that seemed tame compared to the others. The receptionist had walked down the hallway and I pulled out my phone and took pictures of this:

Cocaine Rodeo: Secret Menu Item: For the fiend $XXXXXXX

An eightball will do, but this really calls for a quarter ounce. This depends on a few things: How good is the blow? Will we have a third joining us? How long do you want to party? What's your tolerance? But if it's high grade, an eightball will do.

If you've done something like this before, you know that blow has a numbing effect. This could be a good thing or it could be bad, but like a lot of things it's all about how you use it. With how much this protocol calls for, getting hard can be hard, but I've found that head works best.

You'll need a place, of course. You host, or I host or an AirBnB is always good. A guesthouse with a private bathroom, a balcony or a patio. Just our own place for those little smoke breaks that happen between sweating and moaning, for before and after. Somewhere no one else will hear the snorting, the hips pounding and the loud moaning. A place with no wandering eyes, unless that's what you like. But the point is you'll want to fuck hard. You'll want to moan loud. To be a little reckless. What's the point, after all, if you can't let loose.

Start slow. Cut the blow into neat little lines, neat and long. Long enough for each line to be split between your two nostrils; for cohesion and symmetry. You'll want a few at the ready. Depending on your party prepare either 10 or 15. We'll cut more at a break. A few drinks to ease the initial stress of your daily life, the monotonous drives to work, the fake smiles you have to give your boss, the way Pamela from the cubicle next door yap yap yaps at you all day long. Just enough that the tension at the back of your neck melts away. Talk a little. Laugh a little. Dance a little. Flirt.

The large bills are the cleanest. Most people like the Benjamin, but the $50 bill is used far less frequently, although it does lack pizzazz. You choose. Look into my eyes a moment before looking away. Don't worry, the liquor covers up the blush. I'll roll it up in my hands after we've sat down. Take the bill from me, lingering in my palm a moment. Bend down. Snort.

Don't pay too much attention to your heart as it quickens. Pay attention to the surge of joy that hits your head like the first time she touched you. He*. Forget him. Tonight doesn't belong to him. Tonight you're here for you, tonight block out those hurtful words and the way she left and let it all melt away. We'll put some porn on the TV. I'll handle that part. Watch.

Sit there feeling the high, sipping your drink as I get it set up. Watch the amateur porn on screen. The way they touch each other shows it's not their first movie, but you can tell they're still in love. Feel the wetness between your legs as you cross them. Squeeze your legs together a bit and revel in it. Listen to the way the camera picks up their breaths and the moans that escape their lips.

You'll be hot and bothered by now but you're still not ready. You shouldn't be. Don't worry. Let the tension build. I'll probably move towards you at this point. I'll probably look at the way you're sitting just as high as I am, just as ensconced in the moment, and just as hot and bothered. I'll probably reach to put an arm around you. Don't let me. Not yet. Stand up and ask for a smoke. You want to cool the jitters after all.

As you sit outside on the patio, don't look at the moon. Don't look and remember that one time you sat on the beach, leaning into his arm as you felt the breeze blowing over your skin, don't think about how this feels so different. Just put the cigarette to your lips. Take a drag. Just inhale and feel the buzz of the nicotine as it blends in with the liquor, the blow. Let me do all the talking. After all, you're not here because you want to talk.

I'll have made a playlist on pornhub. It moves from amateur into PMV's (Porn Music Videos). Something upbeat and clubby with a montage of the things I want to do to you. He's stretching her out, pounding downwards on those lips that grip that dick. Then she's glaring at him with mascara running as he's on top with his hand around her throat. Then she's riding him like a cowgirl at a rodeo, complete with a Stetson.

Do another line. Lean back. Fight for the drip while I pretend I wasn't staring at your tits when you were leaning over. After four or five is when we'll really start. This is where the overproduced porn is too much to ignore, the exaggerated moans on screen where the girl's empty eyes are looking into the camera.

This is where the way you look sitting there in that skirt, the way your legs are starting to gleam from the sweat starting to form is too much. I'll probably grab you now and kiss you, feeling the bravado from the blow as it lifts me up just a little bit more than the liquor brings me down.

My mouth on your mouth, my tongue against your lips while my hand starts to squeeze at your waist, sliding down and back around. Take my hands. Show me where you want me to touch you as we kiss. Press hard into me. I can barely feel my face, so press into me. When you touch me, touch me hard. I'll do the same for you.

Just you and me will do, but this kind of occasion really calls for two. This depends on a few things: How tight is your pussy in relation to the size of my dick? How much fucking/sucking can you manage? How sore do you want to be when we're finished? What's your tolerance? But if we're high grade, just you and me will do.

If you've done something like this before you'll know that blow has a lifting effect. It mixes in and amplifies orgasmic sensations and makes sex more cerebral than physical as your body will already feel the high, the pleasant numbness. This could be a good thing or it could be bad, but like many things, it depends on how you use it. With how much prolonged pleasure this protocol brings it's hard to know when to stop. I find it's best not to until the sun comes up.

After we're undressed I can eat you first or you can eat me. It sets the tone for what this is going to be. But chances are you like to be submissive. Chances are you're here to be my coke slut. Chances are you want me to tell you what to do. So, do it.

I prefer scotch. Be sure to tell me your drink of choice beforehand so I can accommodate but I prefer scotch. A combination of whiskey and coke dick should leave me flaccid and shriveled, sucked into me as if it's afraid of the trauma to come. Ugly, and a little pathetic. You could say what you want about it. I won't give a fuck after the next line we share, anyways.

Get on your knees. I'll be sitting on the couch or the edge of the bed so get on your knees. Start fondling the shriveled thing with your fingertips as you stick your tongue out, licking upwards at my shriveled nutsack. Press into it going up and down and the flesh will loosen and expand.

Suck on them. Not quite hard but with palpable suction. I'll feel a tinge of pleasure and you'll be able to tell as my breathing gets a little bit faster. I'll probably put a hand on your head, fingers running through your hair, pressing into your scalp.

Press your tongue into it. Feel my balls on either side of your tongue as you press into it, feeling the base of my shaft through the softening flesh of my sac. Keep it up while I do another line. Don't touch yourself. You'll get the chance.

Now they're hanging loose. My cock is still limp and shriveled but my balls are hanging loose. Slurp my cock into your mouth. Slurp and release. Slurp and release. Do this five or six times in quick succession. Blood will flow into the corpus cavernosum/spongiosum. Cover your teeth with your lips and stroke me back and forth some. Keep it up as the first vocals of our little symphony escapes my throat, "Mm," soft, short and husky.

Feel the warmth spreading from your stomach. We all love those vocal sounds of pleasure, after all. Feel your wetness spreading, but don't touch it. Not yet. Revel in the numbness of the pleasure, the pleasant light headedness of the blow. Slurp. Suck. Release. Slurp. Suck. Release.

"Look at me," I'll say softly, yet again, with that husk in my voice. Look up and watch as it sends a shudder up my spine, and I can't be sure if precum's shot up my limp shaft or not. But it's nice. It's nice and I can't remember the last time I felt so nice.

Thirty seconds to a minute and I'll be hard. If you're drooling, it'll be better, but like a lot of things, it's all about how you use it. As I'm looking down at those lips wrapped around my cock, my now hard cock, I want to feel more. I'll be looking at your body and every part of me will want every part of you. "Titty fuck me," will probably escape from my thoughts to my lips.

Smirk and leave the slobber all over it. It's disgusting but it's sexy. Especially when you cup both of them and press them together making my dick disappear. Or maybe if they're smaller it'll just look like a hot dog in a bun. Maybe white bread. Maybe whole wheat. Maybe pumpernickel. It doesn't really matter.

I can't feel much from it anyways as you slide up and down on it. It's not about the sensation at this point. You're there on your knees and a part of you gets off on my pleasure. Part of me gets off on your submission. A breath before I grab you by the hair. I arch forward to kiss you, sucking some of the drool from your lips as I pull the flesh between mine. Don't be afraid to bite.

My hand in your hair at the base of your skull. Get on your feet as I guide you. Let out a yelp as I throw you onto the bed. Smolder for a moment before winking. Do another line. You've done enough work for now. Now it's my turn. I'll start by putting a hand on your pelvis, pushing down. Can you feel the pressure?

My fingers on your outer lips, not touching your pussy yet. But pressure from my fingertips to your outer lips, pressure enough so you can feel it inside. I'll press, squeeze, dig, release, press, squeeze, dig, release. Just for a minute or two before I press my lips together against you like I did to your mouth just earlier, tongue caressing.

Then onto your clit. Speak to me through moans. Sing for me. I'll probably start by flicking it up and down with the pressure, remembering how numb my own cock was from the blow. Pressure on your pelvis, tongue flicking up and down, fingers teasing everything from outside of you. I'll spread those lips, blow on it, squeeze it. Let the pressure build.

I'll keep working on you until you've cum once. If you can't, we'll just have to do more blow. But if you're like the average girl, you'll have come by now. You should be sedated enough that your pussy's all you're thinking about, you should be sedated enough not to be thinking of how different I am. Or maybe I'm the same. The sound of my voice certainly is. But you'll be sedated enough not to care.

By now, enough of the blow will have worn off that I'll be rock hard. Tell me to stroke it so you can watch or don't tell me. You choose. Maybe just a little so I'm hard enough for you to do the next line off of it before you get your next gummer from the residue. Slurp it all off. Get it nice and wet. We're both dying for it now, anyways.

Lay there, on your back. Watch me as I stroke myself (if that's the path you've chosen). Rub on your clit a little, play with your tit. Feel the emptiness aching and revel in it. If you're in NA or SAA, or any of the other A's you'll probably have a flash of doubt. A flash of thinking that you shouldn't be here doing this. But we both know that ship sailed as soon as you made your decision. You already know that eventually you'll be standing there, telling them your name, telling them what you are, telling them this story as they listen excitedly, squirming in their chairs and trying to hide it while their pupils dilate, a gleam in their eye.

And just what are you tonight?

Beg as I rub the tip of my dick up and down your slit, from your opening to your clit. Say, "Give it to me, now." Say my name and say, "I want that rock hard cock inside of me." You know how hard it is. You made it that way, after all.

Moan as I push myself inside of you. Put your hands on my chest, grab at my hair, my shoulders, hands on my ribs. I'll be holding myself up, looking down at you, breathing on your skin, spreading kisses on your neck, sucking on your tit, nibbling on your collarbone. Listen to my breathing near your ear, the sound of our hips slapping against each others', the wet sloshing, the moans, the sounds on the TV. This is our symphony and I'll be the conductor. Listen to the words we say that mean everything now, but will mean nothing after our next line, drink, cigarette. But we're both familiar with empty words, and that's fine. Especially tonight.

Swear at me. I'll call you a "proper slut. A proper little coke slut. You're such a good fucking whore." Don't think about him. The way he called you his good girl. The way he called you his. Tonight you're what I say you are, so for now shut out the pain. You'll get your chance. Press it through your fingers into my back. Scratch me if you need to, or just pretend for a bit while I kiss you. That's what I'm here for, after all.

Say, "Just like that, just like that," when I'm where you need me to be. "Fuck yeah, just like that." You're still properly numb so fuck me back. I'll keep it up. I'll keep it up as long as you need it unless I'm about to cum. This depends on a few things.

But this is when we stop fucking as the whole point is to fuck for hours. I'll pull it out. Protest if you want, but I'll pull it out and lay beside you breathing, sweating. Yes, I'll cum for you more than once, but this is still too early for what this protocol calls for, and doing another line is what works best. Hand over the tray. I'll do another line. Then you... Unless you're close.

If you're close, I'll press my palm to your clit, pressing two or three fingers inside, sans pinky. I'll reach until I feel that soft spot. Up and down using the same rhythm we had been playing just a moment ago. Up and down as my other hand feels you up, squeezing your nipples, kneading your breasts, pressing down on your hips so you can feel the pressure. Let it build. Lay there as I finger fuck you and let it build.

If you've done something like this before, you know what's about to happen. I'll keep the rhythm, but I'll be jerking harder. Harder, up and down. Harder up and down. Enough of the blow is wearing off. Let out that shrill shriek of panicked pleasure as you feel like you need to pee. Don't be afraid to tell me. "Don't fight it. Let it go," I'll grunt as I move my hand violently inside you, up and down. Then do as I've said and let it go. Spray all over me. Writhe in that uncomfortable ecstasy for me. Cum.

Then we'll lie there, breathing, sweating, thinking. When you start to think, hand over the tray. Do another line. One nostril, then the other. Then me.

We mustn't forget to hydrate. Another smoke. The moon will be in a different position now, higher in the sky. Sip on your drink, pull on your cigarette, touch me. I'll touch you back. Then we'll go inside for another line.

My cock will be limp again from the blow. My balls will be fine though. Get it hard again. You can use the method from earlier, or put your own spin on it, but suck it till it's hard. It won't take long. Now, you get on top. Up and down for good measure before you grind back and forth. Listen to the porn stars fucking in the background, and grind your clit against me while I'm inside you.

My hands will be all over you. I've found that I can't help it. Dig your nails into my chest and grind your clit against me, back and forth. "Fuck," I'll moan. "Yeah?" you'll reply. "Harder," I'll say. When I'm ready, I'll tell you, "Bend over." Climb off of me. Get on your hands and knees, whip your hair to one side and look back at me.

Moan as I push it inside of you. I'll probably reach down and grab at a tit before I dig my fingers into your hips, guiding you back and forth. Squeeze me like you're trying to milk me. Squeeze as I grip at you, fucking you back and forth, moaning, "Fuck yeah. Fuck you feel so good," as I feel your pelvic bone milking at the bottom side of my shaft. "Ooo." Now, you can touch yourself.

I'll lean forward, fucking in short little strokes to ease myself. I'll lean forward fucking you with short little strokes as I plunge my hand into your hair, pulling at it, telling you, "You're such a good little slut." Reply, "Tell me what a good little slut I am." "Such a good little slut." It won't be long until I'm ready to cum again at which point I'll pull out. Hydrate

Do another line, pour another drink, before going outside to have another smoke. You won't care about the moon anymore as I'm caressing your wet skin. We'll go back inside and cut up some more of the blow. One more line and I'll be limp again. I'll sit back against the headrest, legs spread. I'll beckon you with a finger, saying, "Be a good girl and get me hard again"

Everything else will fade away for a moment. Shudder at the words. Feel the chill down your spine as the memory invades your mind at how much you loved being told you were a good girl. You were a good girl. Such a good girl. You still love it as much as you hate it. She loved being told she was "such a good girl," too.