Twenty Years to Life Ch. 03

"God yeah," he grinned. "Your dad was right down the hall . . . oh shit!" She had engulfed the head of his cock again, stroking the shaft underneath with her hand. The she pulled up and quickly placed her tits around Charlie's dick and squeezed them tightly together. The head was sticking out above her cleavage, so she took it in her mouth and sucked as hard as she could.

Frank got off the hood of the car and went around behind her, pulling her pants and panties down to her ankles. He grabbed her by the hips and plunged into her pink cunt, making her groan with excitement. She just stood there as Charlie humped her flesh-melons and Frank filled her pussy over and over again.

"How did I get so lucky?" she said. "Two big studs to fuck me at the same time!"

"Two? Isn't that a slow night for you?" Charlie joked.

"Hey, I only fucked more than one person at a time, and that was that once when your wife was out of town. That was one hell of a poker game!" Rachel's mouth watered when she thought about how she had sexually satisfied four guys in the same night. She had planned a repeat performance, but that was when Torrie's breakdown had occurred, and her own sex life had been put on hold for a while.

As she talked about that night, Frank started hammering her harder. His balls were slapping against her crotch like nobody's business. He loved hearing all the dirty things that Rachel did. Then he pulled out and crouched down, burying his face in her pussy and licking like there was no tomorrow as Rachel released Charlie's member from its fleshy cage so she could suck on it some more.

Frank snaked a couple of fingers into Rachel's box and spread those inner labia wide open, marveling at the contrast between pink inner flesh and dark outer flesh. He got one of his thumbs wet by plunging it into her honeypot and then pushed that thumb into her ass. Then he went back to teasing her slit and clit with his tongue.

"That's it baby," Rachel said when she came up for air. "Get that asshole ready!"

"You get to fuck her in the ass?" Charlie said with surprise. "You lucky bastard! She doesn't let anyone else do that!"

"That's why I'M the boyfriend," Frank said. He stood up, grabbed Rachel around the waist and lifted her off the ground until her knees were level with the hood of the car. Then he deposited Rachel in Charlie's lap, directly on top of his aching member. She reached a hand back and guided that stiff shaft into her waiting pussy and sank all the way down onto it.

"Oh, that's so fuckin' good!" she said as she started to bounce. Her cunt was stretched as Charlie's stick filled her up right. She didn't have much time to revel in that sensation as she soon felt another one. It was the sensation of Frank's beautiful dick pushing against her backdoor. Nice and slick from its trip up Rachel's vaginal canal, it was ready for some backdoor loving. "Wait," she whispered to Charlie as she settled down and waited for Frank to push all the way inside. She had never taken two guys at the same time in that way before, and she didn't want to rush it. Her asshole started to expand and that familiar dull pain arrived. She knew it would be gone soon and be replaced with pleasure, but what kind of pleasure remained to be seen. More and more of Frank's shaft eased into her veteran sphincter until he finally bottomed out.

Rachel felt as full as she had ever felt in her life. "Oh sweet Christ, how come I never tried this before?" she asked of the full moon shining over her head. Charlie began pumping his hips a little and Frank followed suit. The two of them could sense the other through the thin wall that separated their cocks, and both had to admit they liked the feeling. Both of Rachel's tunnels were tighter than they had ever been, and both of them wanted to take advantage of the situation. The two developed a rhythm of sliding in and out of Rachel. Frank had reached around and was mauling his girlfriend's tits, occasionally moving his hands so that Charlie could suck on those massive melons.

Rachel's brain was exploding with pleasure, and her body soon followed. "Don't stop! I'm gonna fuckin' cum!" she shouted as both men kept thrusting into her. True to her word, her body arched and her orifices clamped down and her pussy expelled cum down onto Charlie's powerful hips. Wave after wave of sexual passion flowed through her and onto her lovers.

When her sphincter and vaginal opening loosened up, both men started going again, fucking her like madmen. Frank was blasting a load deep in her bowels, filling her anal passage with his own man-juice.

"Stay in her," Charlie said as he approached his own orgasm. The pressure of her climax and the added pressure of having a still semi-rigid shaft in her backdoor was all he needed, and he filled her womb with his seed.

The three of them stayed locked in that position for a moment. Rachel felt their cum trying to leak out of her respective orifices and was content. She knew she had to do this more often. Double-penetration was definitely one of her NEW favorite things.

What Rachel, Frank and Charlie DIDN'T know was that they weren't alone. If they had peered into the darkness of some nearby trees, they might have seen a little green light and a sleazy looking man before both vanished to the other side of the park.

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A few days later . . .

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Rachel was humming happily to herself as she headed home from an afternoon out with her friends. She pulled into the driveway and noticed a familiar looking car. It was Charlie's car. She wondered what he was doing there. There wasn't a game on today, and he hadn't mentioned anything during their tryst that weekend. She walked in the door and instantly felt her blood start to chill. Her father was sitting in the living room, staring angrily into space. And there was a woman sitting in the seat next to him. Rachel recognized the woman from pictures . . . from family pictures on Charlie's mantle. It was his wife. And when she saw Rachel walk in, her already hostile countenance was enveloped in hatred . . . pure, unadulterated hatred. And that scared Rachel, but not as much as the anger in her own father's face when he turned to her. She didn't remember ever seeing her father like that.

"Thank you Mrs. Anderson," her father whispered, his voice failing him. "I apologize for my own . . . failures . . . in this matter."

Mrs. Abigail Anderson was still shooting spears from her eyes at Rachel, who was suddenly afraid for her safety. The woman picked a videotape up off the coffee table and stood up to leave. As she passed Rachel, the young woman could see Mrs. Anderson's skin tighten and her fist clench. "What comes around goes around, you little slut!" she growled, then stormed out of the room.

'Oh God!' Rachel thought. It finally dawned on her what had happened. Somehow, she knew . . . and now Rachel's father knew as well.

"Dad . . ."

"Shut up," he said in a tone that would accept no defiance. "I . . . I've always done my best to provide for you, you know that? I did my best to raise you right. I took you to church, I tried to teach about 'wrong' and 'right.' I tried to teach you about respect. You never wanted for anything in your life, and I never raised my hand to you, even in anger. So what the hell did I do to deserve you embarrassing me like this?"

"I'm so sorry . . ."

"Really? Well 'sorry' doesn't even begin to cut it. You . . . you . . . you committed adultery, with a man I trusted, in this house. And in his own house. And who knows how many other places," he said, standing up and glaring at her. "I couldn't watch . . . but I heard . . . I heard all the things you've done and where you did them. Mrs. Anderson suspected her husband . . .," he said, gritting his teeth. He couldn't stand to say the man's name. ". . . was cheating on her. So she hired a private detective to follow him. He caught everything you said and did this weekend at the park. You . . . doing those things . . . with a married man and that punk-ass kid you've been hanging out with. And the complete lack of shame . . . You think it was fun, violating the laws of man and God, and sometimes even under this very roof? You think it was fun to wreck that poor woman's home just for thrills? I've known her for years. I was there when she married that piece of shit . . ." John (Rachel's father) was trembling with anger. "She's a good woman. She didn't deserve this."

Rachel felt something she hadn't felt in a long time . . . guilt. Her father was right. Charlie had never said that his wife was untrue to him or mean or anything bad. He had just wanted a hot young girl to fuck on the side, and Rachel had been willing to be just that. And her father had been right about doing it just for the thrills.

"I didn't want to believe her," John continued. "But the camera doesn't lie. I've never been disappointed in you until now. Maybe it's my fault . . ." he started.

"No Dad, it . . ."

"I said SHUT UP! You've done enough already. Maybe I just never made you take enough responsibility for your life. I let you live here because that's what a family is supposed to do. And you took that hospitality and that trust and that love and spit on it. No more," he said meaningfully. "I'm going to go pick up your mother from work, take her to dinner and try and explain all this to her in a way that won't break her heart. By the time we get back, I want you out of this house. If you take anything that isn't yours, I WILL call the police. You want to make a mockery out of your life, then fine. But you won't ever do it here again. Do you understand me? EVER!" Rachel's father grabbed his keys and stormed out of the house.

Rachel was in shock. She was being kicked out of the only place she had ever lived, and she couldn't think of anyone to blame but herself. She knew she had to call Frank and warn him. If her father or Jeremy . . . especially Jeremy . . . ever caught up with him, there wouldn't be enough left of the boy to fill a thimble. She didn't have any idea where she was going to go or what she was going to do. She was still a semester away from graduating, and she was in no position to support herself. She hurried to her room and started to pack. There was so much history in that room, from her stuffed animals to her family pictures, that she didn't know where to start. She needed help, so she called the one person she knew she could count on. And when she found that Torrie wasn't at home, she called over to Isabel's place. She was in tears when Isabel picked up and quickly passed the phone to Torrie. She was babbling and crying, trying to get the words out. Torrie promised she would be over in a moment.

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At Isabel's apartment . . .

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"I'm sorry ma'am," Torrie apologized after her phone call was over. Isabel had just finished tying her to the dining room table in preparation for an early dinner. Her mistress began untying her.

"Is she okay?"

"No. I don't know what's wrong. Something about getting kicked out her house and that her father was going to kill Frank." Torrie realized that she was speaking with Isabel as an equal and bowed her head once she had been completely freed and was off the table. But Isabel grabbed her by the chin, raised her face and kissed her.

"If you were the sort of person you would abandon her friends in their hour of need, you wouldn't be the slave . . . the woman I fell in love with."

Torrie's heart caught in her throat. Isabel loved her? She couldn't bring herself to believe that she had just heard those words. Torrie had been in love with her beautiful mistress for a while, but had never thought it was her place to say anything. "I love you too," she whispered, kissing Isabel back as hard as she could. "I'll be back," she promised. "I'll always come back to you."

Isabel basked in the glow of the moment. She felt a bit guilty at feeling such joy in Rachel's time of need, but she had finally found the right moment to say what she truly felt. She watched Torrie get dressed and walk out the door. Then Torrie walked back in. Isabel suppressed a grin as she handed Torrie her keys.

"I don't have a car," the pink-haired girl mumbled as she headed off to Rachel's house.

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Later that evening . . .

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Rachel was still caught between panicking and crying hours later as she sat on Isabel's sofa. Torrie had been trying vainly to comfort her friend and convince her everything would be okay. She reminded her how much her father loved her and that her mother might be able to talk some sense into the man. But Torrie was finding it harder and harder to believe her own arguments.

Isabel watched from nearby. She was torn between the desire to help this person who meant so much to Torrie and irritation. After a while, she had heard enough.

"Torrie, would you go to the store and get what's on the grocery list? If Rachel's going to be staying here tonight, we'll need some more stuff for breakfast in the morning."

"No," Rachel sniffed, "I'll be alright with . . ."

"I'd really rather not . . ." Torrie started.

"Ahem!" Isabel cleared her throat. "Let me make myself clear. "Torrie . . . GO . . . to the store and get what's on the grocery list. Get the money out of my purse. I'd like to talk to Rachel alone."

"Yes ma'am," Torrie said, blushing with embarrassment. She knew when she was talking to her girlfriend versus when she was talking to her mistress, and things had suddenly slipped into the latter category. A hard slap on her posterior when she went to get Isabel's purse confirmed her observation.

"What the . . ." Rachel started.

"Just a moment," Isabel said, waiting for Torrie to get the money and leave the apartment.

"Okay," Rachel sniffed, "what's the deal?"

Isabel sat there, staring at the door before turning to her guest. "She's happy now. I can't tell you how much the fact that you stood by her for the last several years means to her. Left to her own devices, she'd probably drop everything to help you out."

"That's what friends are for," Rachel murmured, a little unclear where this was going.

Isabel cocked her head and stared at Rachel for a moment. "I want you to know that what I'm about to say isn't about being a bitch. Actually, I can sympathize with you probably better than anyone can right now. You weren't who your dad expected you to be or wanted you to be. Now he's mad at you. I can relate. My father hasn't spoken to me for two months now. I don't know if he ever will again." She paused, took a deep breath, then continued. "But there is a difference. I'm gay, and I can't change that. My father is pissed at me because of something I can't control. You CAN control why your father is pissed at you. That's probably why it hurt him so much. But from what you've said and what Torrie has told me, he'll probably forgive you. Mind you, this is worse than taking his car for a joyride and getting a ding in the bumper, but he'll forgive you. The question becomes, what will YOU do next?"

Rachel was horribly confused. "I . . . I don't know. Get a job . . . finish school . . . I've only got one more semester . . ."

"And where were you planning on living?"

"Is that what this is about?" Rachel started angrily. "You think I'm gonna wanna move in with Torrie and screw up your little master-bitch sessions? I just fuckin' got kicked out of my house you fucking . . ."

"Shut up right now," Isabel said steadily, "or not only will I not help you, but I'll make sure Torrie doesn't either."

Rachel stopped. Did this woman really have that kind of power over Torrie?

"But I don't want to do that. Actually, I WANT to help you. If you're serious about working your way, then that's a good start. But are you going to keep doing what got you into this predicament in the first place? Running around with married men without the consent of their wives? Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with you fucking as many men as you like . . ."

"What, you think I'm a bad example . . ."

"No, that's not it. I know this will sound paranoid, but I'm worried about this happening again. Rachel, you know what Torrie's been through, and she's just getting her life back on track. Her welding classes start next week, she may have a new job next week, she's reading again, and she's as healthy as she's ever been. I don't want to see her drop everything to help you if you aren't serious about turning things around."

Rachel sat back down. "I would never do anything to hurt her," she whispered. "I just don't know what the hell to do. I . . . I'm not sure . . . I like sex, but I don't want to fuck up anyone else's life. I didn't mean to . . . I just never really saw her face before," she added, picturing the angry Mrs. Anderson.

"Then I'll help you," Rachel said in a comforting tone. "You can stay here until you get back on your feet. I know you'd rather stay with Torrie, but she needs her own space and besides, Jeremy doesn't know where I live, and he's going to be ultra-pissed when he finds out about this."

Rachel swallowed. Isabel was dead-on with that point. "So . . ."

"Yes," Isabel said, "we're cool. I know it may seem like an overreaction, but I could see how this could mess with her recovery. If it were just about interfering with our relationship, I wouldn't have been so worried. We can survive time apart. I just don't think she could handle any setbacks right now. She's going to be worried sick about you as it is."

"I fucked up," Rachel said. "I really fucked up." She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

Isabel felt like a bit of an ass. She hadn't meant to come off as so heartless. Rachel was a good person who had made some VERY stupid mistakes, and she needed a friend more than an inquisitor. But Isabel also realized that Torrie would never have asked some of the tougher questions. She would have just coddled Rachel, and Rachel needed a bit of a wake up call.

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The next week . . .

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"Great, me working at 'The Java Hut.' I'm sure my life could sink a LITTLE lower, but I'll really have to try," Rachel muttered.

"You could be the girl with the mop who cleans out the video booths in the back at 'Uncle Pete's XXX Emporium.' That would be worse." Frank was trying vainly to make the girl at the other end of Isabel's couch feel a bit better, but didn't seem to be succeeding. Things had been strained between the two of them since Rachel's expulsion from her childhood home. He wondered if she blamed him for his role in what had transpired, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she was justified in doing so. "Hey, at least you're safe. I haven't been home in the last couple of days. I called and my roommates say that Jeremy has been by SEVERAL times." The Hawaiian native was happy he had just graduated and didn't have classes anymore, because Jeremy would have found him and beaten the snot out of him by now. He wished that Jeremy hadn't put off graduating for an extra year. He could have entered the NFL draft and been gone by then.

"How did we let it get this far out of control?"

Frank sighed. "I don't think we were ever in control. Living out your fantasies is all well and good until someone loses and eye . . . or a family, in this case."

They were interrupted as Isabel and Torrie emerged from the bedroom. Isabel, whose couch Rachel had been sleeping on for a while, was dressed in some kind of dress suit that made her look very official. Of course, it was snug on the hips and chest, emphasizing her incredible figure, and her hair was immaculate. Torrie was dressing in skin-tight spandex pants and an equally tight half-shirt and had her make-up done. Rachel was surprised out how much sexier her friend dressed those days. Even Rachel herself wasn't as daring as her previously-somewhat-conservative friend was those days. She assumed that the couple was going out to play some of their "games" that had been put on hold due to Rachel's intrusion. But Torrie also looked a bit nervous.