Tracking Evil, a Podcast Pt. 11

"Da fuck?" Terrell groused.

"Sorry, uh, uh," Erica moaned, Ray flexing his ass to shift his hard cock around inside her. "I'm done, exhausted."

"Fuck that," the three men chorused as one. They set to rearranging Erica on the mattress lifting her off a black cock once again.

Lester rolled Erica onto her side. He raised one of her legs up as he spooned in behind her. His fat black cudgel like cock forced its way between her pussy lips for a couple of deep strokes and then he pulled it free, resetting it so that it was pushing against the entrance to her ass.

Erica moaned but she was tapped out, she hadn't the energy to push herself clear of him. Her ass was almost greasy with sweat and her own pussy's excretions, the big black cock found itself well lubricated as it began to barge its way into her firm peachlike butt.

"Ohh, ohhhhhhh shit," Erica whimpered as his truck thick cock broke through her sphincter.

Ray slid his corpulent body beneath her neck and shoulders, resting Erica's brunette head on his stomach so that she could nurse on his stiff shaft like it was a candy stick.

Erica suckled on it as Lester dug deeper into her ass, one of her hands cupped his heavy scrotum, the other hand dropping to play with her own insatiable pussy as Lester began panting in time with his shallow thrusts into her butt.

Terrell had gone back to the picnic basket, he retrieved a plastic bottle of water, carrying it over to where his friends were filling Erica's holes. The older black man tipped the open bottle so that a stream of cool water fell down to splatter across Erica's cheek and mouth.

The shock caused her to jerk in place, her ass sinking further onto Lester's cock as she did. The water rolled down along Ray's shaft, pooling in a small reservoir on his nut sack. Erica greedily lapped at the fresh water, her tongue scooping it off of Ray's flesh. More water followed, Ray pulling Erica's mouth open, a finger hooking into one corner of her mouth so that the water trickled over her lip and his cock and into her parched throat.

Refreshed by this, Erica took Ray deeper, down to the point of her gag reflex while Lester got halfway up her asshole, contentedly rolling his cock in and around her back passage. Lester, with an agility that surprised Erica, got her onto all fours while his cock remained within her.

From this position his thrusts built up in pace, depth, power and ferocity until Erica was taking him anally with the same ease as her pussy managed. Ray pulled his cock free in time for her to cum loud and hard, small hands gripping the mattress as if it could somehow save her.

"Shit, she lovin' it in the ass," Lester called to his friends.

"That right bitch? You lovin' a good ass fuckin' huh?" Ray said, sinking down so that his face was a finger breadth away from hers.

"Yes, uh, uh, yes," she whimpered.

"Shit? Clarke know this?" Terrell probed.

"Yes, oh, oh god, yes, yes he knows, he knows I love it in my ass," Erica choked out as Lester fucked her hard.

"Fuck, I'ma getting' under this slut," Ray said. He clambered awkwardly under Erica, lifting her up at times as he squirmed on his back beneath her.

Finally sorted he waited for Lester's ass churning thrusts to abate, then he pushed his own cock into Erica's pussy. She'd been fucked this way before but these were two particularity wide cocks, their girth adding a new dimension to this fucking.

Then both men began moving, a waltz of cock thrusts, one two, one two, quick, slow, quick, quick, slow. Thrusts to her ass and pussy alternating, then both at once, one hitting her shallow, one deep, then both deep and fast, then taking it slow in hip grinding circles.

Erica came hard, then on the back of it she came again. Terrell crouched down, gripping her face so that her mouth pursed into an 'O' as his strong fingers dug into her soft cheeks.

"You shoulda been nicer to us, then none of this blackmail woulda been necessary," he said looking her in the eye as two cocks drove in and out of her nether regions like jackhammers. He pressed his fingers tighter, Erica's mouth dropping open.

"Stick out your tongue," Terrell said. Erica did, stretching it out of her mouth obscenely. The mean older black man then spat full onto her tongue, his free hand pressing against the tip of her tongue, rolling it back into her mouth like a pink carpet. Satisfied he had made his point he released her face from his grip.

And the cocks continued to pound her body in the sweltering noon heat.

She stopped being Erica Anderson, journalist and amateur crimefighter. She ceased being Erica, a fugitive with no last name, hiding from her past. No longer was she a young woman, forced into sex with three unscrupulous married black men. All that was past. Now she was just a thing. A life form that thrived on pleasure, existing solely for the sensation of black cocks defiling her pussy, overloading her mouth and throat, stretching and plundering her ass. The next orgasm was all that mattered, it was her only goal in life.

Erica's will was a heaped pile of shards, reduced to that state by the dominance of the three men using her, their cocks piledriving her body into a quivering mass of nerve endings that were afire with need. Dust motes of her resilience and will waft through her brain, unable to find purchase as all her energy and focus was on the impending crisis point as the two cocks were nearing their own climax, spluttering, shuddering, throbbing thrusts that just made her own climax all the closer, all the greater.

Ray came first, a hairsbreadth ahead of Lester who poured a tribute of gelatinous seed into the depths of her bowels. Ray's ejaculation was equally deep, coating her cervix, flooding her womb with his potent seed.

Erica flopped like a fish on a riverbank, no words or sounds coming from her, rendered speechless by the weight of the orgasm sinking into every molecule of her being. All she could do was twitch and shiver between the two large men impaling her, drool dripping from her mouth and onto Ray's body as she lost control of her base functions. Her eyes fluttered, then settled into a series of slow blinks that seemed to make time jerk and jump unsteadily. As she sought to recover, whole minutes seemed to pass by unnoticed.

When Erica finally regained a measure of awareness, she was on her back, Terrell sloshing water between her legs as he sought to remove the excess semen seeping from her body. Whether he succeeded or just gave up, he tossed the half empty bottle aside, and with a beer induced burp of pleasure, he mounted Erica's slender frame, her legs curling about his waist in automatic response.

"This time I am feeding my nut direct into that white belly of yours. Can't have Ray sayin' he knocked ya up. 'Tween us we already got eleven kids. You think we gonna make number twelve today?"

Terrell didn't wait for Erica's befuddled brain to come up with a reply, he just began fucking her with a strength and speed that seemed to rob Erica of her own, in less than a dozen strokes she was mewling and squirming on the mattress, ready for another orgasm.

Chapter Five - One Hour later "Success is not final; failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts" - Churchill

New York City

Sondra wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. She gave the toilet a quick glance over before flushing it, making sure none of her vomit had splashed outside of the bowl. It hadn't.

She ran the faucet for a minute before filling a glass of water, rinsing the tepid tap water around her mouth before spitting into the sink. A good brushing of her teeth freshened her up afterwards but it was only when she tossed her brush into the empty glass sitting by the edge of the sink did Sondra actually look at her reflection in the mirror.

Trent and Lincoln had already headed out; she had cried off complaining about a bad hot dog she had eaten the night before. That was a lie but there had been no way she was going to share with them the real truth. Sighing she pressed her forehead against the cool surface of the mirror and closed her eyes, unwilling to look at herself any longer.

Sondra had discovered she was pregnant a couple of weeks after Erica had pulled her disappearing act and the nausea accompanying her pregnancy had spiked these last few days. Morning sickness she could live with, her real dilemma was she hadn't told Destry yet.

She had tried telling herself that it was because she had doubts over his ability to be a father, that was why she was withholding the news from him, well from everyone right now.

But it wasn't just that, it was the timing. Sondra couldn't be a hundred percent sure it was Destry's child, there was a good chance it had been fathered during her one-night stand in Alabama.

Usually she was careful; she normally took a morning after pill when she engaged in unprotected sex. Normally! Only there had been one time with Destry just before Erica went missing that she had put it off because she was hurrying to Alabama to help out Arlene.

Then there was the night in Alabama with the man she had picked up in a bar. She had it in her mind to take the pill the next day, a two for one deal as it were. Then Erica had disappeared and it had disappeared from her mind.

Now she was pregnant and she had no idea what to do next. Instead of the pregnancy drawing her closer to Destry, it and Erica being missing was driving a wedge between her nd her Boo.

"Dammit girl, what you doing? What you going to do?" Sondra tapped her head gently on the smooth glass of the mirror as she posed the questions out loud.

Back in Florida, Erica had finally made it back to the trailer she shared with Clarke. She might have looked exhausted and bedraggled but she was in better condition than the three middle aged black men she had left naked and slumbering in the clearing atop the hill.

Terrell had shot the first load of the day and he had managed to throw out the last one as well. While the other two had lain back on the grass, fat black cocks finally sated, soft and slumbering between their legs, he had taken Erica against the large Elm tree.

The gorgeous brunette had been stood upright, her arms wrapped about the massive trunk, fingers digging into crevices in its bark, while the black man had fucked her standing up.

Erica had pressed a cheek lightly against the tree as he pumped in and out of her in an almost gentle fashion, both of them far from capable of continuing the aggressive energetic sex of earlier.

Terrell had cupped her breasts, his head sinking to rest on her upper back as the last dregs of cum in his depleted balls drained sluggishly from his cock into her tender pussy. Finally finished, he hadn't even the strength to stagger clear of her, simply dropping loosely to the ground at the foot of the tree, his cock leaving her snatch as his body simply dropped where it stood.

Erica had picked her way across to where the men's clothing lay, droplets of cum landing on the lush grass like sleet, leaving a trail of white globules on blades of grass as she passed by.

Reaching Terrell's clothes, she had recovered his phone. Lazy as he was, the man hadn't bothered changing his password from the factory setting, Erica simply entering 0000 on the screen to get access. When she saw the photograph he had taken of her earlier that morning she could have wept at the injustice of life. The idiot must have been shaking like a leaf when he had snapped the picture, the image so badly blurred as to be completely unrecognisable. All this had been for nothing.

She showered, scrubbing her clothes as well before dropping them into the laundry basket, top and shorts smelling unmistakably of sex. Erica checked the time, a good two hours or more before Clarke was due home. Her body ached from the sexual marathon and she just wanted to forget it had ever taken place.

Erica spied the newspapers that Clarke had so thoughtfully brought for her and she gathered them up, sitting at the small table to read them before he returned from work.

Generally, Erica just enjoyed reading, the context of the stories wasn't normally the part she enjoyed, it was the quality of the individual reporters writing that she truly found satisfaction in.

She poured through the few local papers, reading snippets here and there as they caught her eye before setting them aside one by one. Then she started on the national ones, opening up the LA Times first.

About five minutes in, Erica's mouth dried up as she came across an article by their crime correspondent.

'Hacker Brutally Murdered' the by-line read, and beneath it 'Police consider possible gangland affiliation'.

It wasn't the headline that had caused her stomach to clench and churn with apprehension though, it was the photograph beneath the boldly printed headline. It showed, what she could only assume was the front door of the hacker's apartment, police tape layered heavily across it. Despite the police tape, she could clearly see where BILLIII was spray painted on the door.

Frantically she read the full article. The victim had been a young nineteen-year-old African American living at the time in Bakersfield California. He had been arrested a number of times over the previous years for hacking local and federal institutions. His body had been found by the buildings superintendent after neighbours had complained about a smell.

First reports from law enforcement officials indicated that the young man had been tortured extensively in the hours proceeding his death. The article concluded with some more background on the victim including references to his affiliation with a number of Harry Potter appreciation websites.

Erica laid the paper down carefully, clasping her trembling hands together. The slight buzz she had from the beers she had drunk earlier was gone now, fear flooding her body, the bitter taste of adrenaline in her mouth.

It couldn't be a coincidence, a hacker into Harry Potter, exactly the person Tiny had introduced her to. Somehow The Graffiti Killer had tracked him down, creating a scene that was bound to be picked up by the press. There was a message in this, that they could track down anyone who helped her.

Erica forced herself to move beyond the terror that the article had reawakened in her, her hands moving to touch her shorn hair in an unconscious tic. She could understand the killing, well understand it as well as she could anything these people were capable of. But the torture? Why had the young hacker been tortured?

Did they think he knew where she was? No, if they had been able to establish he was doing research for her then they knew enough to realise he wasn't someone she was likely to confide in.

That had to be it, the research. Something he had found.

She leapt from the table, energised now by more than mere fear. Erica pulled her small bag from beneath the bed she shared with Clarke. At the bottom, underneath some spare clothing, was her phone.

She had pulled the battery and sim card when she went on the run. Now she hurriedly reassembled it, powering it on for the first time in almost two months.

Phone on, Erica checked her messages. Literally hundreds of missed texts and calls from Arlene, Sondra and her parents, all of which she scrolled past uncaringly. Nothing.

She checked her email, the same, her inbox heaving with emails from her friends and family.

There! An email with attachment from someone called RonRocks, the title stating 'Attn Sexy Hermoine Looking Bitch'.

Erica opened it up, then opened the attachment. It took her a minute to read the file. Another two minutes to grab all her personal items.

Five minutes after powering her phone back on, Erica was striding through the trailer park towards the main road, her phone to her ear as she waited for her friend to answer her call.

The suburban Street was deserted by this time, late evening having settled on the neat well-kept homes. The occasional street light offered small pools of light in the gathering dusk, the pet owners in the neighbourhood having all completed their last walks with their shaggy companions, settling in front of tv's for an hour's entertainment before bed.

Destry pulled his truck up to the kerb opposite Sondra's house. The lights were off inside but that didn't rule out that she might be home. He walked up to front door, his hand in his front pocket, jingling his house key free of the loose change. Pulling it out he went to open the door, a part of him almost hoped she wasn't there as he could do without an argument tonight.

Something was wrong. The key wouldn't fit. Destry tapped his forehead off the front door lightly, frustration and grief warring for dominance on his face.

"Ah baby, what are you doing?" The words spoken softly, for his ears alone.

There was a scuff of a shoe on pavement behind him and Destry turned in the hope it was Sondra coming home. It wasn't. It was the creepy college kid, Elvin. Destry tried to keep his voice free of the loathing he felt for the younger man. Sondra liked him and it wouldn't help his cause if she found out Destry had given him shit on her doorstep.

"What are you doing here?" Destry had the words spoken before he could find a way to frame the enquiry in a softer fashion.

"Just looking to speak with Sondra," Elvin replied.

"Well she isn't here right now. Sorry." Destry forced some politeness into his response.

"I see. May I wait inside for her with you?"

"No. I mean, I am heading out so I can't help you out kid. Sorry."

"Ah, I see. Well then perhaps you could give me a ride? Even to the nearest bus stop?"

"I... ah" Destry drew a blank on how to refuse him and still keep up the pretence of being polite. "Okay, sure. Yeah, I can do that."

Destry led the way back to where his truck was parked, behind him he could hear the shuffle, skip, shuffle of Elvin's walk. 'Fuck' he thought to himself, 'even the kids walk is creepy."

He still had the key to the front door in his hand so as Destry drew up beside the truck he pushed the hand holding the key into one pants pocket while at the same time using his other hand to take his vehicles keys from the pants pocket on the otherwise.

THUMP

There was a concussion of a blow, low and to the right in his back that caused him to stagger forward a half step, the side of the truck arresting his momentum.

He made to turn around when a blinding pain gripped him from where the blow had struck. Before he could draw breath to curse, query or complain, Destry felt a series of swift blows pattering across his back, weight and power of them easily shrugged off.

'Is this little shit trying to beat on me? Pathetic!"

Destry finally turned around to face his attacker, Elvin standing now in front of him, one hand curled into a fist. The big man reached out as if to seize Elvin by the throat but Elvin stepped back out of reach,

Destry's movements uncharacteristically sluggish. The self-satisfied look on Elvin's face made Destry want to puke in response, so he allowed his gaze to fall away from the face and down to the fist he had been struck by.

There was something off about it, something... it wasn't a fist, Elvin was holding something in that hand. A knife. Destry could make it out now, blade shining in some places, more of it dulled black by something.

Blood, the knife was black with blood. The big man could see it clearly now, the knife right in his eyeline. How was it in his eyeline? Destry glanced down to realise he had sunk to his knees, Elvin actually able to loom over him now. Why was he on his knees? There was no pain. Nothing, he felt nothing.

"Sondra's gonna kill you," Destry mumbled, blood flecking his lips as he spoke.

"Why? She likes me and she will want all her friends close around her once she learns you've been killed."