Randy's Slutty TrailerTrash Wife Ch. 07

Mingling with our visitors, my sense of things got to a spinning confusion. Between the alcohol and the weed and the fuck, it was a gooood fuck, and the chess of players in my house, I felt like an old Buick doing 60mph on the freeway and the driver (who's driving?) all of a sudden throwed the transmission in reverse.

My poor used pussy still had "fresh cock memory" and was achin' for round two, but my brain was THINKING! fast and lust had just been kicked outta command central.

The scene as I saw it was this. Randy meant me no harm, but he had a habit of being naive about his so-called friends.

My hubby could be exploited, Lord knows I did it all the time.

Imelda may have been just trying to scare me to have all these men to herself. Her rep for depravity was legendary. Then again, Roland was someone to worry about.

He grew up in our town. Played junior varsity his freshman year but he dropped out the next summer and moved to Houston. Being a couple of years older than Randy and Manny, they never played together in school and did not know each other until years later. They knew each other through DeShawn - Roland's brother was closer to Randy in age and school affiliations.

DeShawn stayed behind. Roland made his money two ways - drugs and prostitution and it was mostly the prostitution.

He was DeShawn's supplier and DeShawn was our supplier for weed, but he usually had harder stuff if anyone was foolish enough to want it.

Roland was a big man and mean looking. He was 6-foot-three and 260-ish pounds. He had thighs like an big oak has trunk and that alone made my hole salivate, just the thought of those big hard thighs thumping on my broad pasty white ass, the groundshaking fuck he could surely deliver. Ohhhhhhh, daddy.

He was much darker than his brother, which led me to always assume they had different papas, but I never asked. DeShawn was about the same height, but slim, light-skinned with freckles and reddish hair. He was maybe 180 pounds naked.

I had asked Randy several times why he invited them. He always gave a sparse and evasive answer like "I just did, okay?" or something else as unforthcoming. I knew neither of them would've been in Randy's Top 5, so that left me with two possible answers, neither was flattering to me.

One, Randy had asked some of his closer friends and had been turned down. For whatever reason, his GOOD buddies didn't wanna fuck me. Well, shit - there's somethin' to ponder on. Two, Roland had something on Randy, like money was owed and I was either partial or full payment for some crap I knew nothing of.

Fuck, I wondered. What the hell AM I worth?

Chuey didn't bother me. He was practically Randy's partner in the garage. Whatever was in Randy's best interest was in Chuey's best interest. So, I figured he had some interest in my well-being. But Chuey was no brighter than my husband and someone I thought to be poor in common sense. In a word, gullible. He might infuse me with sperm, but not a lot of confidence.

All this thinking! My head was getting warped and I was muttering out loud, "This is so wrong," waving a hand at my visitors as I shuffled around in our crowded bedroom. Roland and DeShawn and made themselves comfy on my bed, lying beside each other like a bored couple, oggling naked self-conscious me. They had never seen me naked and I wasn't all that comfy about them having the opportunity.

My comment was taken by the group with a laugh. It was just the flipside of "I'm a sick puppy." We were all sick puppies, perverse sex fiends and dope fiends.

Roland let loose a gravelly voice: "I'll make it as wrong as you want it, mmmm hmmm, you got some fuck-alicious curves, uh huh, fine ass hoochie mama, mmm heh!"

He waggled his bright pink tongue at it. It looked so wicked coming out of the deep contrast of that black face.

I turned my eye to the kitchen counter in the next room. Imelda was sitting in the only chair in my bedroom, the roller by my computer. She was surfing for porn. Randy, half naked with his shirt back on, still had his arm around me and Chuey had his naked butt leaning against my vanity dresser.

I pried myself loose and walked toward the kitchen, "Anybody want a drink? I can make another batch of margaritas."

I felt my naked butt and thighs shake with more sexy than I felt. I was conscious of my cheap jewelry, my only clothing. Cheap jewelry. The rolo chain belt made a faint klink. I felt like trash. A lump grew in my throat.

The haze of THC in my blood ever-present, kept me in the swirly place of "not think clear-Lee."

I opened the fridge to answers of "Yeah," and someone - Roland - asked for a "shot of whiskey straight up."

I filled the blender pitcher with ice, frozen lime concentrate, triple sec and tequila and let her rip. Staring at the blender, I said, "Focus girl focus, comeon, get it too-geth-errrr!"

I remembered the whiskey request, pulled down my only bottle of Johnny Walker, two-thirds empty. Then Manny walked up. I had forgotten about him! He had been in the other bath taking a long piss. I remembered he had come with Roland and DeShawn. That instantly brightened my mood.

Manny was the man in this town, he had connections. Roland could operate here because Manny let him, and probably had some stake in that business, too. Manny didn't work because of his inheritance. He was a playboy.

Roland might exploit women for business, but for Manny making sluts was strictly pleasure. He preferred younger, leaner meat than me, so I knew his interest was genuine.

We were, after all, old friends. What did I have to worry about? I stood in his way as he walked up and smiled.

"Hello there handsome," I said, remembering fondly our last fuck. I was feeling playful and fishing for a compliment.

I shook my hip and spanked my thigh and posed for him and pointed at the blender. He broke into that gorgeous boyish grin and I said, "I was worried you'd forget about me Manny, what with all them pretty young things distracting you."

He hugged me, "Mmmm, not you Terry. You're my number one."

"Liar," I said, and THAT was the compliment I was fishin' for. We tongue-kissed and I enjoyed his hands squeezin' my ass.

I shut down the blender and then, for the longest moment the only sound in the house was me giggling while Manny tickled my ribs and waist. I snuck behind him and jumped on his back and rode him around the kitchen in horse play, with him spanking my thigh and me squeelin' like a little girl, "eeee, eeeee, eeee!"

He stood straight and I slid off, barefoot on cold linoleum again. "This your big day, Terry. You ready?"

I had renewed confidence. "I'm already at it. I'm more than ready. I"m gonna be the nastiest girl in three counties tonight!"

I dutifully served everyone's margaritas, like a good hostess, receiving compliments on my hospitality, looks and good spirit, to which I announced with mock seriousness: "If mama's in a good mood, everybody's in a good mood. Are we gonna keep mama happy?"

There was a howl of obedient replies, except for Chuey who was in pain, I looked to watch and hear, "Sssss-ay!"

Imelda was pinching his bare nipple hard, left it pink. I asked why, they didn't explain. It was their personal business.

I went back to the kitchen for the shotglass and served Roland last. As I came up to him he was lighting a blunt.

"Here some git-happy-fog fo yuz, hootchie mama," he said, extending it to me. I passed him the shotglass and took the blunt and saw he was stroking a hard-on through the fabric of his long baggy yellow shorts. He was sitting now in the edge of my bed - my bed - thick black calves hanging over the edge. I felt vulnerable. He was magnetically, sexually intimidating. I felt submissive in front of him.

I sucked on the blunt, eased myself onto Roland's lap, shooed his jackoff hand away from his cock, reached under the waistband and snapped off the hook and unzipped, I inhaled slowly, I fished out a very fat semi-hard jet black cock, I spread my big ass on one massive hard thigh, held onto his cock, pulled the blunt away from me face, closed my eyes to keep smoke from burning, waived the blunt around trying to get someone to take it, someone did, opened my eyes, saw Roland take down the whiskey and swish it in his mouth before swallowing.

I lay the left cheek of my face on his shoulder and felt his warmth.

"Mmmm baby, that was sweet." he put a hand on my inner thigh. "You sweet, too. Make a fine hoe. Sure you don't wanna leave this town, come work for me, bitch?"

I shooked my head violently in the NO position, then exhaled. "I already got me a pimp. I fuck who my husband tell me to fuck."

He laughed, "Mmmm hunn. Well, he tellin' you to fuck ME, hoochie mama. So how 'bout it?"

I stood up, bent over with legs straight, exposing my ass and pussy to whoever, and held his fat black cock in my left hand. I put my right hand on his thigh for support and swallowed what I could. The cock was too fat to go far with.

DeShawn watched for a bit as I made modest two-inch suck strokes on his brother's snake. "Mmmmmmm-hmmm!" I heard him moan. I moaned back.

DeShawn got up off the bed, dropped his pants and walked around behind me. Randy walked up and stood at the end of the bed to get a better view. Randy was stroking his cock as I could glance from the corner of my eye.

I felt DeShawn massage my ass cheeks with his hands, then he took cock in hand and tapped underneath, tapping at my pubic bone with his cockhead. My thighs quivered a little from the muscle tension of my position.

"Yeahh, hey, can I put my manhood up yo' ass, bitch?" he asked. There was a momentary silence as the room waited my response.

I slipped Roland's snake out with a loud "squish" and said to Chuey, still leaning on my vanity, "Chuey, give him the Vaseline. You lather up with that before you pound my ass, DeShawn."

The room broke into giggles, and "yeahhs, ahaaaa!"

I looked up away toward Roland, he gave me a big wicked smiled, showing a few white teeth and a partial grill, the front four upper teeth were gold. He stuck his tongue out and wiggled it at me and my pussy just throbbed.

"Gimme some mo tongue on my handle, Miss-uss J, I likes watching you stuff yo face wittit," he said.

My sphincter was being probed with cockhead. I looked at Roland's abdomen and fitted his thick fuck tool in my mouth. DeShawn pushed and popped open the anal ring. "Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!" I moaned as he held still, his right hand squeezin into my asscheek like he was palming a basketball.

Randy's voice broke in from my left,"Yeahhhh, mmm Terry you look soooo fuckin' hot right now. Damn sweety, I love it."

I moaned back my response. I was just a moan, but the words would've been "Fuck you for helping me fuck up my life, you sick enabler."

I felt like such a whore. How could I not? I was getting doubled by two black men I barely, in MY bedroom, with my husband, two other men and a bonafide gangbang slut watching. DeShawn pushed, I moaned and salivated all over his brother's bat-hard black stick. Roland's groin had a powerful and somewhat unpleasant smell to it. He was rancid and musky.

DeShawn pushed and got a short stroke going. I sucked cock and got a short stroke going. Mine short because I just couldn't take it in it was too thick in diameter. Why DeShawn wasn't trying to impale me with all his force, I don't know.

Neither of them seemed like decent men to me.

Randy moved from the end of the bed, scooting across the bed with on knee on the mattress and his other leg hopping on the carpet until he was right next to Roland's right thigh. I felt him rub the sticky tip of his pink cock on my left shoulder tricep. I moaned something garbled that was basically, "Thank you for paying attention, at least I ain't in here alone with these two motherfucking bastards."

Of course, all anyone else heard was, "Mmmmmm umm ommmmm errrrr," and that drew a round of: "Yeah, bitch!" and "Fuck-in-A," and "Ohhh she loves it," from my loyal fans.

DeShawn's stroke was not altogether uncomfy, and once he was well anchored and mining shit - thank gawd he had a rubber on - he even had the courtesy to reach under and finger my clit and barren hole while he abused me.

I sucked with more vigor on his evil brother and tried to keep my own stoned-mind induced demons at bay. It's just sex, I told myself. What's the big deal. But my guilt-ridden Christian psyche was bound to play tricks.

"You're mine," a wicked and nonexistent voice echoed through my head. To which my conscience screamed back, "Nooo!"

Manny took advantage of Randy's repositioning to walk around the bed to the other side. He put his knees up behind Roland's head and, now naked, stroked his cock in my direct line of sight, should I happen to look up. I glanced his way now and then, but mostly I squinted and moaned as DeShawn pleasured my ass and pussy.

"Dammn," I thought, this was feeling good. I could get used to this kind of attention!

And the evil non-existent voice in my empty head echoed like the laughter on a Pink Floyd song, and repeated itself, "You're mine!"

My eyes watered. I had a momentary wave of self-loathing. I whimpered with mouth stuffed and tried to shrug it off.

This WAS so wrong. It was SO WRONG. I was being SO fucking BAD! But I sucked on that manwhore's fat hard snake.

Then I felt Roland reach under me and squeeze both of my hanging, ass-fuck-shaken, dangling tits. He held them steady and massaged at my nipples with thumbs.

What a picture. Ass-fucked, cock in mouth, hubby tapping his goo drops on my shoulder, Manny getting ready to skullfuck me next.

Only Chuey was not in the picture. But I heard squishy smacking behind me somewhere and knew Imelda was working his cock, probably trying to get him hard again so he could join the others in tearing me apart!

"Tearrrr eeee," Roland growled, "Git on up here'z a lil' and poat yo hoein cunt on my dick, bitch!" He was pullin' my tits toward him and didn't let go. I released his stiff cock and submissively attempted to move forward. "Fuck, DeShawn give the woman and chance to get it right."

DeShawn stopped stroking but would not come out of my ass. I delicately lifted my legs, planting knees over the edge of the mattress and DeShawn's cock followed me. I lowered myself and Roland held his cock up and steady. I felt it splitting into my wet hole, but he was big and it was tight. "Oh fuck," I said and took some deep breaths.

I bent over and found myself in the classic double penetration pose, sandwiched between two hardcare ho-fucking, nasty men. I had visions of the DVD release complete with a TV ad campaign and a teaser clip of me climbing into "The Position" before the camera fades to black on them making penetration. Why not? Sell it to the whole fucking town. Price it at $39.99.

This position is the one I'd been training for for years, with my dildos and Randy's dirty talk. This position was the boot camp ordeal of gangbang sex. I thought I was ready. And in the first few strokes it didn't seem too bad. But one thing was different from any video I ever saw. All those double pens had the man under pinned under the weight of the woman and the action was controlled by the stroke of the man on top.

Roland was incredibly strong, and he had slid his ass off the bed. His feet were planted on the floor and he was anchored by his back and my weight leaning forward, my forearms set into his shoulders. Our faces were very close and he smiles and DeShawn resumed to ream my asshole. "Nnnnnnnn!" I groaned.

"Bitch, you ain't seen nuttin' yet," Roland said. And with that, he started his stroke. It hadn't occured to me he could stroke in his position. He could STROKE!

"OHHHHH fuck!" I howled. "Ohhh Ohhh OHHHHHHHHHH!"

When DeShawn pulled away, Roland pulled away. When DeShawn drove in, Roland drove INNNNNN! There was a sensation of extreme tightness, extreme impact and then two pistons recoiling to ready themselves for the next blow. It felt like battering rams. It was so fucking tight when the hammered inside in unison.

Then they pulled away to allow me a moment of pleasure, then IN. Pain! Pleasure, Pain! Pleasure. The PAIN! of assault, stretching me to my limits, the pleasure of that teasing backstroke, just barely comfortable enough that I could enjoy the slide of cocks going away and teasing at getting out altogether. But then they CAME ... BAck ... IN .... DEEP .... HARD-HARD.

Out-out, in-in, hard-hard, tight-tight.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," I cried. And for the next Four-ty-five-fuckin' body-testing, incredible minutes, I was pounded. And I cried and whimpered and begged them to stop, begged Randy to make it stop. I felt a tortured, twisted, high-strung orgasm come on strong, I rode it out and cried some more.

No one was in a mood to have mercy on me. Not even Manny.

"Please, baby," I begged my husband about ten minutes in, my first begging. "Baby," tears coming down my cheeks, "I've had enough." Sob!

"Please, baby, nnnnnnn! OH OH Owwwwwww, ... nnnn! nnnnn! nnnnnnnnnnn! buh-baby, sniff, nnnn it's so tight, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nnnnn um um ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shitttuh uhhuh."

"This what you wanted, bitch," Roland said.

And as the double fucking proceeded, relentlessly, mercilessly, it terrified me to realize that, in fact, everybody was taking direction from Roland. He WAS in charge!

"Fok the bitch's ass, DeShawn! Let her know what this hoe-ins all about."

"You gonna BE my bitch, Tearrr-uh, uh huh. You gonna be my white bitch sex slave, aintcha," he growled.

I groaned a pitifull "No."

"What! fuckin' white slut. Tell this sorry-ass 'sscuse of a white woman how she spoze uh talk to me, Randy."

And with that, Randy, I don't know if he was just in character or for real, but he grabbed his leather belt and "Whack" across my back hard!

"Owwwwwww," I howled.

My eyes stinging now, I looked up and my husband and he said, "You give the man the answers he wants, bitch.

This is a fuckin gangbang, not a church picnic. Be a slut straight-up, hoe!"

I felt betrayed, but I got the message. I had broke a cardinal rule of dirty slut sex. Maintain the fantasy, be that nasty cock-starved slut. The pain and my paranoia about Roland had pushed me out of character.

I submitted to ALL of Roland's insults.

"You my bitch now? Bitch!" he barked.

"Sobbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb, yuh yea yesss sirrr nnn!" I blubbered in between their cocks-pounding into me-eeee! "NNNN! I um ohhhhhhhhhh OH, love your-errr cah-cock nnnnn!"

Whatever they wanted me to say, I said it. But Randy hitting me and talking to me that way, knowing and plainly seeing I was pushed beyond my limits. They enjoyed hurting me, but Randy was too fucked up and in the grip of his own lust to care about my feelings.

It felt like a horrible betrayal. I would hurt from that for months.

About 15 minutes into the double penetration, my gut burned from using my stomach muscles to absorb the thrusting blows, I gritted teeth and sweated and shook and squealed like a stuck pig through those body-ripping in-strokes.

Manny could no longer wait. He grabbed my head and told me to open up. I dropped my jaw and he put his white cock in.

I didn't need to work my head on it at all. Between Manny's stroke and the Roland-DeShawn hammers, the three of them were doing a great job of moving my mouth forward and back on Manny's cock. The sweat off my face dripped onto his cock and I shut my eyes tight and moaned on that prick for what felt like hours.

It occurred to me now why Roland was here. Of course some of Randy's closer friends has passed on this. They weren't experienced with gangbangs and while it was fun to talk about the reality of it was intimidating to them. They probably didn't want to be under to pressure of performing in front of other men, friends and acquiantances whose opinion they cared about, and performing with an agressive slut at that! Then there was the risk factor, the idea that their wives or girlfriends might find out.