Misty Breaks Ch. 02 - The Long Slide

"Damn, you make me proud!" he crowed. "You gon' turn heads wherever I take you." He cupped her bare ass cheeks in his hands and kissed her, trailing his kisses from her lips down over her chin and neck, onto her chest. Misty looked down at him, pleased that she made him so happy.

"Baby? Give me a blowjob before we go out. I'm gonna blow if you don't!"

"Okay, sure," she replied, still nervous about the way she looked. He wanted a whore. She would be a whore for him, she decided. Maybe she could convince him to stay home with her. As she went to her knees, her pussy was soaked, making the gusset of the tiny shorts wet with her juices. And when he later exploded in her mouth, she climaxed there, on her knees, without touching herself. She needed more, but he wanted to go.

In the car, she again complained that she didn't feel right. "This dress; look at it!" she said. "It feels like I'm naked, baby!"

DeShawn smiled at her, knowing she soon would be. "Relax, slut," he told her, using the term regularly now. "You got a great body. You should be proud to show it off. It makes me feel good when you're with me, like I'm somebody. You know what I'm sayin'?" He stroked her chin with his hand, reaffirming her sense of worth, and she nodded.

"I know," she mumbled. "It's just..."

"Pull in here," he said suddenly. She parked in front of a small bar in a neighborhood she normally wouldn't have been in. DeShawn had his door open before she shut the Voyager's engine off. "C'mon," he told her, "I got a friend in here." He stood out front until she joined him, looking nervously up and down the street. Now she wanted inside. Anything to get out of sight!

Inside, the atmosphere was seductive and close. Two nearly naked black women danced on top of the bar, grinding to the slow jazzy riffs that blared from the jukebox. DeShawn walked straight to the bar, dragging Misty with him.

"Hey, Mr. James. What's goin' on these days?" he called out.

The bartender, a tall older man with a white beard, turned and grinned at him, then focused his attention on Misty. "Who's the snowflake?" he asked, looking her up and down. DeShawn introduced her as his girl, and James crooked a finger at her, drawing her closer. It seemed her nipples were showing, and he wanted to see this for himself. Whoa! It looked like DeShawn had found himself a winner this time!

"Damn, you sure are a pretty thing," he told her. "How come I ain't seen you in here before?"

Misty mumbled, embarrassed but aroused all at the same time. The bartender's compliment had her pushing her shoulders back, showing off the sensitive nipples that the a/c had helped to make even more erect.

"What's that? Come around here, kitten," James ordered, waving his arm toward the opening in the bar. When she obeyed, he pulled her in close, making sure he got to feel her full round breast as his hand went under her arm. "Mmmm, mmmm!" he said, staring down at her ripe white breasts, "you sure make a fella look good, standin' next to you!"

Misty's face was red with humiliation, but her pussy was buzzing with excitement. There was no one else in the bar but James, the two dancers, and them, but she felt on display all the same. It fueled a previously unknown hunger in the little blonde. She wasn't sure how she would feel if anyone else came in, but right now she knew she was hotter than either of the two sluts atop the bar, and this realization made her more confident. Her nipples were so hard they were becoming painful.

DeShawn, meanwhile, was talking to one of the girls. She bent over, her big flabby tits hanging out of the diaphanous top, and laughed at something he said. James had his hands full, literally, with the MILF behind the bar; he cupped her right breast and flicked idly at her nipple as he leaned into her face and repeated her how pretty he thought she was.

Misty was already fantasizing about James fucking her. His wizened face foretold years of experience satisfying women, and he made no secret of his hard cock, pressing it into her leg as he held her close. She needed something, and she needed it now. The blowjob she had given to DeShawn had only wetted her appetite; now that she was actively assuming the role of his girlfriend, she was horny beyond all belief! She let her hand brush the front of James's pants, a motion not lost on the older man.

"Hey, brother," he interrupted DeShawn, "this little gal of yours is feeling like she wanna lay down. How 'bout you watch the bar for me while I tend to her?"

DeShawn had hold of the back of the woman's neck with his hand, and was pulling her down to kiss him. He dismissed Misty and James with barely a wave of his hand. Misty called to him, but he ignored her. She called again, just as James bent and hefted her over his shoulder, like a caveman with his conquest. He headed off with her to the office in the back.

"DeShawn? Baby?"

James raised his hand above her ass and swatted her, laughing. "He gon' be a while, sweetheart," he crowed in his deep voice. "That gal'll use that young dick all night, if she get her way! But you still got ol' James, here. You ain't gonna be complainin' none, I can tell you that!"

Misty struggled, but only half-heartedly. In truth, she had already given herself over to James, sensing that was what DeShawn had planned for her. She had no idea what he stood to gain, but she took heart in James's appreciation of her looks. She had no doubt he would not leave her wanting.

James laid the sexy MILF on her back on the unmade bed. She lay looking up at him; neither protesting nor begging; simply staring up at him. She whispered softly, "now what?" and he grinned.

"This," he said, and pulled his belt through its loops. He watched her face as he took his pants down, and when his cock came free, he noted with satisfaction the look of surprise on the little slut's face.

"Holy god!"

He stepped out of his pants, his cock swaying before him. "You gonna like this," he promised. His cock wasn't quite as long as DeShawn's, but its girth was larger than any she'd ever seen. She doubted her fingers would ever reach around it!

James shoved the mesh cover-up upward, then hooked the tiny spandex shorts with his fingertips, and pulled them down Misty's legs. Yanking them off her ankle, he noted that she wasn't protesting, merely turning her hips to the side with her left thigh hiding her pussy. He took her knee in his hand and pulled her leg out to the side.

"You ain't shaved clean yet?" He looked dolefully at her, shaking his head.

She feebly apologized. "I really just haven't had time yet," she told him, then added, "DeShawn told me to, but I... you know. I've been..."

James laughed. "Your man told you to, and you didn't?" He shook his head again. "He ain't fucked you good since, has he?"

Misty whispered, "Yes, he did last night,' with her eyes averted.

"Well, you in luck, darlin'. See, it don't make no never-mind to me. Pussy is pussy, right?" He ran his hands down her thighs to where they met. "You already nice and wet for me," he said, running two large thumb tips up through her aching slit. "Looks you ready to rock n roll, girl!"

With that, he went to his knees between her thighs, then positioned the head of his massive root at her entrance. He pushed forward, surprisingly receptive to her squeals as she attempted to accommodate his girth. "That's a good girl," he soothed, waiting after each inch had entered her. In time, his hairy belly mated up to her thin line of wispy blonde pubic hair, and he was in her to the hilt. Her face showed the strain as he began to move.

"Oh goddddddd," she groaned. She felt as full as she had when delivering David, though she knew she wasn't anywhere near as distended. At least she had drugs, then! Her breath began to come in short hoarse gasps as James stroked slowly out, then sunk back inside her. It was beginning to not hurt as much, as her body reconfigured itself to match his size, and she found her hands reaching behind him, sinking her fingertips into his muscular ass cheeks as she pulled him forward.

James grinned. This little slut was getting in to it! "Yeah, baby," he crooned, "take it like you know you want to!" He upped the speed of his thrusts as she cried out for him to "Fuck me! Oh god, fuck meeeeee!" Soon his hips were slapping hers as he began to hammer her cunt.

Misty's first climax was almost too overwhelming to stand. Her legs jerked upwards, then slammed back down onto the mattress, over and over. She cried out her need as she bucked up into him, exhorting him to fuck her faster, harder. Her hands lost their grip on James's ass, and she began to knot the sheets in her fists, wailing her pleasure as his cock worked the poor girl's pussy for all it was worth. His orgasm would not come for ten minutes more; in that time she would cum at least three more times, each more demanding than the last.

When he finally unleashed his torrent of hot sperm inside her, she arched her back and screamed, an unearthly wail that sounded like tearing cloth. He rammed into her repeatedly until his cum flow slowed to a few spurts, then he collapsed on top of her.

Misty retreated into an almost comatose state, the weight of the big man heavy on her as she fought for each ragged breath. When she fell asleep he rolled off her and lay looking at her, marveling at this gift that DeShawn had brought him.

Then he began to undress her. He was far from done with her, and by rights, he should give DeShawn his chance at her, unless he was worn out from fucking his whores. As he pulled the webbed dress and bra off her body, he couldn't help but add his own hickey to an unmarked area of her breast. This slut would make a great party favor! He wandered out to grab a cold beer and check that no one had robbed the till. By the time he returned, he was getting hard again. He woke her by softly whispering into her ear.

"Hey, baby. Get that mouth open. I got a need and you got the means to fill it."

Misty opened her eyes to the sight of James's thick cock hovering in front of her eyes. She formed her mouth into an O automatically, not even noticing the thin line of white powder he had left along the top of it until she blew out harshly when the wide mushroom head hit her uvula. A fine spray speckled his coarse pubic hair. By then the sharp tangy taste had registered, but she didn't recognize it for what it was. Within seconds it was kicking in, heightening her arousal even further. She attacked his cock like a starving woman.

David, her son, came home to a silent house.

Time slowed and then stopped for Misty, as she let her body take complete control from her mind. By eight o'clock that night, she'd been fucked three or more times by James, once by a friend he called, and quite a few times by the two whores from out front. They took particular delight in slapping her face and tits, complaining that she wasn't doing enough to make them feel good, and using a wine bottle to fuck her with. She made an attempt to eat pussy for the first time in her life, but in reality, she was just trying to blunt the pain of the abuse they were inflicting on her white ass with their hands and James's discarded belt. James finally pulled the two of them off her and sent them out, now that business was starting to pick up.

"Get your skanky asses out front and make some customers happy," he told them, slapping their butts as he herded them through the doors. Walking back to Misty, he appraised her. She seemed unable to move, laying in a pool of spilled wine, sweat and cum.

"You about done for," he pronounced.

He went looking for DeShawn, who was half-heartedly tending bar and drinking most of the profits up. "You best get your slut home," he said, "she had enough of ol' James, and them whores seem like they're jealous enough to slice her up."

DeShawn drove Misty's car as she dozed. When they got to her house he woke her up and held the can of cold beer against her cheek until she seemed coherent. He nuzzled her and told her how proud he was of her. She turned into his kiss and tried to pull him down onto her, still craving more. He stopped her.

"You best get inside," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow, if I can get by." With that, he got out and walked off, leaving her to face her son in her revealing outfit and disheveled state.

"Oh, man," she sighed as she approached the front door and reality once again kicked in, "you really did it this time, Misty."

Taking a deep breath, she entered, feeling like a stranger in her own home. She was lucky; David was in the shower, having fed himself and done his homework. She changed quickly into a pair of shorts and a shirt and brushed out her hair. When she felt she looked normal, she waited by the bathroom door, her thoughts still swimming in a pool of erotic need.

"I'm sorry, baby," she told her son as soon as he came out, "I got tied up in a parent/teacher conference that ran late." The words rang hollow, even to herself. It was as if the house was saying, "Liar!"

David studied her face for a moment and turned to go to his room without saying anything, but then came back and kissed her goodnight, holding his breath as the stench of cigarettes and other odors filled his nostrils. "I'm glad you're okay," he said quietly.

Misty stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out. She shaved her legs and the little 'landing strip' she had always maintained at the top of her pubic mound, then brushed her fingers lightly over the smooth hairless skin. It brought tremors of delight, releasing endorphins she embraced eagerly.

Misty went directly to her bed, without eating. It still smelled of her and DeShawn, and as she tried to recall the events of her long day, she began to stroke her fingers over her sex until the need became too great. She sunk three fingers deep into her pussy and frigged herself to an unsatisfying climax, then drifted off into a fitful sleep. It was a mix of dark dreams - of every man she had ever been with, of DeShawn and James and that stranger in the back room, and finally of a line of faceless men, black and white; all of them waiting to fuck her, one after another, like a whore on an assembly line.

When she woke up, Misty was more exhausted than when she had gone to bed, but she felt she carried a supply of energy, if she could only tap into it. She had crossed a line yesterday, but as far as she could tell, it led only to immense pleasure. If feeling this way was the price she must pay, she would gladly do it. She began to think of herself as a slut, at last.