Hands on the Wheel Ch. 04

After quickly shedding her panties and putting on the thong, she was back smiling at the image in the mirror when Em walked in. "Checking the mirror again? You must like what you see. I've got a feeling a lot of folks tonight are gonna like it. Let's go girl, time to let it out!"

It was a ten-minute drive to the house where it was obvious some serious partying was underway. It was a large, older house that had been divided into apartments. The guys who lived here weren't students, they worked mostly in the bars and restaurants that served the college crowd. The music was loud and cars were parked up and down the block. Em found a spot not too far away and the two pretty young things sashayed across lawns up to the open front door.

Before they could even walk in, a guy stepped out and handed them each a cup of beer. They looked at each other, nodded, then poured the beer onto the grass. Em didn't give the guy a chance to complain. "We pour our own drinks, asshole. Go find yourself a blond." Em, of course, was a blond. "A dumb one."

They went into first apartment on the right. The living room was filled with music and a couple of dozen people, some drinking and some dancing. Sarah didn't see anyone she knew, but Em quickly headed for a group across the room, waving and shouting greetings. Sarah wanted a drink, so she headed for the bar set up on the far end of the room. Ignoring the guy acting as bartender, she grabbed a glass and stepped around the table that held glasses and a tub of ice with bottles of beer and water. Looking down the row of bottles on top of a low bookcase, she found an unopened bottle of vodka and filled her glass. The acting bartender finally noticed what she had done and grabbed the bottle. "Hey, you can't do that!"

"Define can't," Sara said sweetly, and patted his cheek. "That's okay, you don't have to tip me." That felt good. She wasn't goody-two-shoes Sarah tonight, she was Smartass Sarah and nobody talks shit to Smartass Sarah. She chuckled and walked back toward the dancers, sipping the vodka. She watched for a while, continuing to slowly drink the vodka and turning down a couple of drunk dweebs who asked her to dance. Finally a fairly good-looking guy asked her. She killed the vodka and started dancing, a fast number with a pounding rhythm.

Pretty soon Sarah's arms and shoulders were sweating. She felt ...free, released from the shackles of class schedules and project deadlines and parental expectations. As she tossed her head and threw her arms about, she could feel her breasts jiggling wildly and her skirt flipping up. It was obvious to everyone that she wasn't wearing a bra and her thong wasn't doing a very good job of covering her naughty bits. She knew it and she loved it.

The song ended and the guy started to put his arms around her just as a slow song started. She hit him with her best slutty smile. "What great timing," she breathed and plastered her body against his. As they pretended to dance, she ground her pelvis into his obvious arousal. When the slow song ended he tried to lead her toward the French doors that led to the patio and garden, but she pulled her hand away. He was okay, but there were better-looking guys to be had and she was just getting started. With a silly grin, she said she had to pee and set out to find a bathroom.

As she sat on the toilet, the tingle in her nether regions felt very nice. She decided it was time to give the tingle a chance to grow up. She dug the Ecstasy out of her clutch purse, then hesitated as she looked in the mirror. What the hell, girl, it's your last chance for a college hookup. Or hookups, she giggled. She took the tablet with a handful of water from the lavatory and opened the door to leave. Em was standing outside looking a bit drunk but concerned.

"You okay, Sarah?"

"Sure, Em. Never been better." She giggled, then put a hand under each breast. "The girls are going to get some action tonight and they can hardly wait."

Em hesitated. She'd never seen Sarah like this, and was worried that she might do something stupid. But an old boyfriend had invited Sarah to his apartment and she was really, really horny. "Tell you what." She dug in her purse for her car keys and handed them to Sarah. "Here's the car keys. When you're ready to go, take it back to the apartment. Just be careful, okay? Try not to wreck it." She hugged Sarah quickly and headed back to find her hookup, then turned for one last caution. "And try not to get raped.".

Sarah tucked the keys in her purse and headed back to the party. She was immediately besieged by lusting dance partners. Fast, slow, it made no difference, the tingle that felt so good was flaring into a fire in her belly and pussy and spreading to her breasts and thighs. When a hip-hop song started blasting, she lunged away from her last partner and started dancing wildly by herself, shaking her breasts and thrusting her pelvis with moves that put Elvis to shame.

The combination of vodka and Ecstasy—and, as she learned later, a bit of GHB that had been added to the Ecstasy tablet—finally drove her to take matters into her own hands. Moving unsteadily to the stairway that led to the bedrooms upstairs, she hiked up her skirt and took off her thong, then dug her rape whistle out of her purse. She went up four steps, and blew three ear-piercing blasts that shut down almost all the noise.

Ignoring a few crude catcalls, she tossed her thong out on the floor. "My name is Sarah Elizabeth Morrison!" she shouted. "I am the Lilith, the succubus who steals your seed, and I can out-drink, out-suck, and out-fuck anybody here. Who's gonna be first?" That shocked the partygoers into silence for a moment. No one answered. "What's wrong, cat got your cock?" Giggling at her joke, she spotted her last dance partner. She walked up to him, put her hands behind his head, and pulled him into a sloppy kiss with lots of tongue.

Dropping her hands, she unzipped his pants and led him toward the stairs by his rapidly engorging cock. To the sound of rousing cheers, she continued to lead him up the stairs. At the top she dropped his cock and lifted her skirt to flash her bare ass, and he turned to leer at his bros. Then they turned and went into the nearest bedroom.

Ten minutes later Sarah came out of the bedroom and walked down to the same step where she issued her first challenge. Her hair was tangled, lipstick was smeared, and only the bottom two blouse buttons were fastened. She tossed her victim's boxers out into the room and shouted "One down! Who's next? How about two or three this time?"

This time there was little hesitation. Three guys walked up to her, spun her around, and started pushing her up the stairs. She stopped and slapped their hands away. "Whoa! What's your hurry, boys, we've got all night! Get pushy, no pussy!" She giggled again at her joke, then turned back and sauntered up the stairs, swinging her hips and rubbing her breasts. After she and the three volunteers disappeared into the bedroom, her first victim swaggered down the stairs and gave a grinning two-thumbs-up gesture.

This time they were in the bedroom almost half an hour. The three guys came down the stairs first, buttoning their pants and grinning like idiots. Sarah didn't show for another five minutes, then slowly walked down the stairs. Her hair was a wreck, her blouse gapped open revealing her breasts that showed signs of being mauled, her skirt was wrinkled and partly torn away from the waistband.

Again the room fell silent, and this time all eyes tracked her as she walked to the bar. She took an unopened bottle of water from a bucket of ice and drank half of it. There was no unopened bottle of vodka but she found an unopened bottle of scotch. She poured half a glass of scotch, then walked back to the stairs, sat on the third step, and put the glass of scotch and bottle of water next to her.

The room was still fairly quiet. She poured some water into the scotch and took a healthy slug, then drank more water from the bottle. Looking up at the eyes still watching her, she hiked her skirt into her lap. There were blobs of semen around her vulva and on both thighs. Her shouting wasn't as loud as it had been. "This pussy is pretty tired and sore right now, so let's give it a rest. Who wants a blow job? Form a line, guys, and no pushing; we've got plenty of time!"

This time there was little hesitation. Most of the couples had left, fleeing the uncomfortable scene of Sarah's debauchery, leaving a roomful of men. Sarah fellated one hard cock after another to orgasm, swallowing the semen from the first few. It was thirsty business, so she drank some water every two or three times, but the water ran out so she started drinking the watered-down scotch.

It seemed that there was no end to the line of men eager for her oral ministrations. She didn't know that several men there had called others to let them know what was available, so the crowd had morphed from a typical party scene of couples plus unescorted women and men to a crowd of increasingly drunk and aggressive men, hardly any of whom were students.

Soon she stopped trying to swallow and let the ejaculations flood her hair, face, and breasts. Her vision blurred and dimmed; when she tried to say she needed to rest, she couldn't form intelligible words. Everything seemed to slow down, to fade into a foggy dream. She thought she heard someone say "Fuck this, she isn't even sucking any more. Put her on the couch over there so we can get to her cunt."

She felt as if she was being dragged, then pushed over the arm of the couch beside the stairs. The first time a hard cock penetrated her, she yelped in surprise, but the cock started pounding into her. At first it felt good, but when she heard the grunts of someone's orgasm the now-deflating cock was replaced by another fully hard, this one larger. The initial penetration hurt this time, but no one paid attention to her cry of pain.

After more, many more, had pounded to their orgasm, someone said, "This pussy's way too sloppy. I'm gonna fuck her asshole." She tried to say no, but no words came out, just mumbles and grunts. She couldn't make her mouth or arms or legs move properly and her stomach hurt from being hammered over and over onto the arm of the couch. She started crying softly because she couldn't do anything to stop what was happening, then screamed when someone smeared her anus with a glob of fluids and jammed his rigid cock into her rectum. It felt like a sword, a hot poker stabbed into her belly.

"Oh shut up slut, you love it!" Slammed, pounded, hammered into her over and over. Sometimes her vagina, sometimes her rectum, sometimes her mouth, sometimes two or three at once. Slapping her butt cheeks. Pinching her nipples cruelly, twisting them until she thought they were going to be ripped off. Biting. Slapping. Pinching. Laughing. She was losing all connection with reality, there was nothing but a sea of pain and obscene shouts. Voices and pain and so tired and still more voices and more pain.

Suddenly she was violently sick.

—For Christ's sake, the bitch is puking and pissing and shitting!

—Jesus fuck, she smells like shit!

—I can't believe I fucked that without a condom.

—That's it, I'm outta here.

—Fuck! Looks like the bitch took a fuckin cum bath!

—God damn, is that blood?

—Should we do anything for her?

—Put her on the couch, she's about to fall on the floor.

—That's her purse by the stairs.

—Put it on the couch with her.

—I think we better get the fuck outta here!

She was on the couch lying on her side, which probably saved her life when she vomited over and over, even after nothing would come up. The pain of the dry heaves roused her. The first time she tried to sit up, nausea forced her back down and once more she retched. She tried again more slowly, and finally was able to sit up. She sat still for a while, concentrating on breathing and trying to focus her vision.

She knew standing would be difficult, but she had to get home, back to the apartment, back someplace safe. She scooted over to the end of the couch, then carefully pushed with her legs until her butt was up on the arm of the couch, the place where she had endured so much pain so long ago. Or was it just a few minutes ago? She tried to remember, but her thoughts scurried about with a mind of their own.

Her thoughts had a mind of their own? She thought that should be funny, but she'd forgotten how to laugh. It would be a long time before she laughed again.

She felt her purse on the couch. It took a while to make her fingers work right, but she finally pushed it into her hand and lifted the strap around her neck. When she pulled the tattered halves of her blouse together, the purse strap sort of held them closed. A small victory. She tugged her skirt down as best she could while sitting on the arm of the couch, finally lifting her butt and getting the hem half-way to her knees. Another small victory.

She still had on her pink running shoes. It was time to see if she could stand up. She swung her legs around until they were straight off the arm of the couch and resting on the floor, her butt leaning again the arm. So far, so good. She took a few deep breaths and started to lean forward to put more weight on her feet, but quickly leaned back against the arm when her knees threatened to buckle.

She waited a few minutes, then tried again, this time slower. Success! She was standing! But she was afraid to try to take a step. She had to, though, she had to get home. Again very slowly, she slid her right foot forward six inches or so, then shifted her weight to it. She didn't fall down, so she slid her left foot up beside the right, then forward another six inches or so. She was learning to walk all over again, a terrifying experience for a 22-year-old woman.

What time is it? For the first time she noticed a cuckoo clock on the wall. She peered carefully, her eyes still not focusing well, but finally made out the hands; it was 2:25. Moving at an agonizingly slow pace, she finally reached the door where she and Em had come in hours ago. She still hadn't seen anyone, but was afraid to open the door in case they might be outside. But she had to if she was going to make it home.

She opened the door a bit and peeked through the narrow gap, but saw no one. She opened the door the rest of the way, then panicked when a car drove by. Stepping back inside, she almost lost her balance but the car continued down the street. She clutched her purse to make sure it was still there and started shuffling slowly across the grass to find Em's car, stopping now and then when the dizziness got too strong.

She was pretty sure she remembered where it was parked. Yes, there it was, easy to find because all the other cars were gone. Still afraid that some of the men who used her might still be around, she shook with fear when she started across the street to the car. The door was locked, of course. She needed the keys to unlock it and the keys were in her purse. Her fingers still didn't work very well; it took a couple of minutes of fumbling to unzip it and find the keys jumbled among everything else.

How did she get so much in such a small purse? Her mind started to focus on that question until she directed it back to the problem at hand: getting home. She found the keys, figured out what button to push to unlock the door, got in behind the wheel and realized that she had driven this car before. She remembered to put the keys in the ignition switch first. After that, things started coming back more quickly. All she had to do was figure out how to get to her apartment.

She was pretty sure that if she turned around and went back the other way, she would recognize where she should go. The first thing she noticed when she turned the key on was the time. My God, it was 3: 10! It had taken her almost an hour just to get from the couch to the car! She started the engine and was pretty sure the street was wide enough for her turn around, but she was afraid to try driving.

After sitting for a few minutes trying to work up the courage, her need to be somewhere safe overcame her fear of driving. She managed to turn around without hitting any curbs, and soon she was driving slowly toward the apartment, gaining confidence as she recognized this house, that convenience store. She wouldn't have been so confident had she noticed that she was driving down the middle of the street, but no other cars were out that early on a Sunday morning. When she got to her apartment building, she just stopped at the side of the street and got out, leaving the car door open and the motor running.

She shuffled to the apartment door. Her fingers worked better now. She managed to unzip her purse without much struggle, but couldn't find her apartment key. Then she remembered that she had left it on her dresser. Em's apartment key was on the keychain with the car keys. She had to go back to the car, shut off the engine, take out the key, then return to the door. This time, she had remembered to close the car door. It all seemed to take a long time.

She was getting very tired and a bit dizzy. When she unlocked the door and went in, the temptation to collapse on the carpeted floor was almost overwhelming. But she felt dirty, unclean, inside and out, and desperately wanted a shower. She shuffled into the bathroom, turned on the shower, took off what was left of her clothes and put them on the back of the toilet, then started back toward the shower.

Without warning, just as she opened the shower stall door her stomach lurched, her bowels released, and she lost consciousness. She fell, her head bouncing off the door frame and striking the floor under the spray. The water flowed over her hair and face, at first warm but soon turning cold. Very cold. It was 4:30 and she was losing body heat through her wet hair..

Almost three hours later, Em and her ex-boyfriend were both puzzled, then alarmed when they arrived back in his car and saw Sarah's car sitting at an angle against the curb, partially, blocking the right lane. He quickly pulled into the parking lot and they dashed to the partially open door.

Em took a few steps in. "Sarah? Sarah, are you here?" She took a few more steps, then heard the shower and rushed to the open bathroom door. She fell to her knees. "O God! Sarah!" She shouted to her ex-boyfriend. "Call 911! Quick!"

As he called, Em stood up and turned off the shower. Kneeling on the wet floor, she put her lips near Sarah's ear. "Sarah, can you hear me? Sarah, please don't die. O God Sarah, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, please don't die. Please God, don't let Sarah die."

Em was sobbing uncontrollably now, fearing for her friend's life and overwhelmed by guilt. She had invited Sarah, she had urged her to get wild, it was her fault that Sarah lost control after Em abandoned her even though she knew that Sarah didn't have the experience to deal with what could—what apparently did— happen. Just because Em was horny, Sarah might die. Em thought she should ask God to let her die instead.

The paramedics arrived in 6 minutes. They found a 22-year-old nude woman lying half in and half out of a shower stall. She had a 6.5cm contusion on her left temple and forehead, apparently from falling on the tile floor. Her face, breasts, stomach, pelvis, buttocks, thighs, and pubic area were streaked with dried semen. Her chin, chest, and upper arms were spotted with dried vomit, her lower buttocks and backs of her thighs stained with fecal matter. Her blood pressure was 60/45, pulse 55, respiration rate 42, blood oxygen (oximeter) 83%, rectal temperature 90.2. Her eyes were closed and she didn't respond to verbal requests.