What Am I Doing Here? Ch. 05

We begin this chapter the next morning, about four hours after the end of our last chapter.

Mrs. Huffman was awakened from a deep dream of peace by a blast of noise from the radio. It took her a few seconds to realize where she was, in her bed, in her bedroom. The next thing that happened was that she was overwhelmed by the powerful smell of sex: Pussy juice, some of it pooled on the sheet; cum splatters, much of it dry and some still wet, some leaking from her pussy; sweat, her own; his sweat. The whole room reeked of it, the remnant of hours of non-stop sex. .

Slowly, she remembered the fucking. It m

Our story picks up the next morning:

ust have gone on for four hours. He was really something.

Suddenly, she was awakened from her reverie by his voice; Harold McCarthy was yelling at her, "Get the fuck up! Get up." He was jumping up and down, pulling his shirt down over his head. "Come on, get up. We overslept." He was holding his pants in his hand, getting ready to pull them up. She could only wonder at his prick, it was stiff and hard. He must have come four or maybe five times at least last night....and that was only here in her bed. She wasn't counting the times before in her car or before that at the cabin.

She shook her head, trying to get the cobwebs out. They had quit fucking around six that morning. She looked over at the alarm clock next to her bed. It was, oh my god, nine forty five. She had been asleep for less than four hours.

"Leave me alone. I'm tired. I wanna sleep," she managed to say. She grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed and pulled it over her head. Harold would have none of it. He pulled the blanket off of his former teacher's body and threw it to the floor. "Come on we're late!" he shouted. He began to pull her from the bed.

"What? Where?" she said as he stood up. She was still three quarters asleep. She was naked and dirty and tired.

"Hurry up," he was slipping his shoes on.

He picked her dress up from somewhere where it was lying on the floor. "Here, put this on." He slipped it over her head and began to pull it down to cover her body. The dress was stained with cum from last night's adventures. It was filthy from the car. It was creased and, like everything else in the room, smelled of sex and sweat. The dress even might have been the source of much of the smell.

"Wait," she screamed back at him. "I want to shower. I want to change into another dress. I need underwear. What are we late for? Where are we going? I want to sleep." Her mouth tasted awful. It surely tasted of his nasty cum, more. She tried to remember if she had given him a rim job. "I need to brush my teeth."

"We ain't got time," he said. He handed her her car keys and started to pull her to the door. "Get your shoes on," he ordered.

Still too dazed to think straight, she slipped her shoes on and followed as he pulled her through the door and out to the stairs she preferred to use instead of the elevator when she brought him into the building.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded as they hurried down the stairs.

"I got to see my buddies, remember. They invited me. They were having a party and I told them I'd be there by ten o'clock."

"I'm not going anywhere!" she said. By now they were out of the building and half-running towards her car. "I told you last night I wasn't going to go to any party. Let go of me. I want to go to sleep. Leave me alone."

"You got to come along. I told them I would be there and a promise is a promise."

"I didn't promise anybody anything. I want to go back home and go to sleep," she repeated.

"You can't. I need a ride. You gotta drive me over there. I get there late, they're going to be pissed."

"If I drive you over there, can I drop you off then and come back home to sleep?"

"Yeah, yeah. Ok. Sure. Whatever you want. But let's go. It's late."

She opened the car door and they got in, she at the driver's side, he the passenger's. The car, like everything else that she had smelled since she woke not more than five minutes ago, reeked with the odor of sex that both stimulated and disgusted her. "Which way do you want me to drive?" she asked. "And remember, I'm just going to drive you there. This is a favor because you seem so desperate. After I drop you off, I am going to go back home to get some sleep."

"Yeah, I already told you that you could do whatever you wanted when we got there. But let's go now. Come on! I don't wanna be late. Just drive towards the university. And hurry."

"Why is it so important that you be there and that you get there exactly on time," MaryJane asked.

"You don't gotta know. But when Leroy and Marquise invite me a party of theirs, they expect me to be there on time and no excuses."

"Who has a party that starts at ten in the morning?"

"They do, and it ain't none of your business when they start their party. Beside, they don't start the party at ten. The party ain't started yet or it started last night and is still going on. Either way, they told me to get there at ten. So quit asking me all those questions and just drive. Ok?"

MaryJane wondered how she had allowed Harold to get her into this situation. It certainly wasn't anything she wanted. She didn't feel like driving him to a party he needed to go to at ten in the morning. And she sure didn't want to drive him when she could have been asleep under her covers after a night that included multiple sex with multiple guys in the cabin, in her car and, finally, in her apartment with Harold. Giving in to Harold's entreaties most of the time resulted in MaryJane getting involved in situations she didn't really want to get involved in. "I am going to just drop you off and then turn around and go home," she said, as much as to remind him as to reassure herself.

"Yeah, I told you. There." He pointed. "At the light. Make a left. You go two blocks to Sweet Briar Street and make another left. Their house is the grey two story one."

MaryJane Huffman made the left and then the second left onto Sweet Briar. She wasn't very comfortable. This wasn't the best neighborhood in town, and this street seemed to be a sort of transition area between the university, about a mile away, and a semi-slum area that began a few blocks down.

"There. There!, That's it. That house, turn in the driveway. Yeah."

MaryJane turned into the driveway and parked next to the attached garage.

"Hey, I gotta tell you thanks," Harold said, looking at her car's dashboard timepiece. "You got us here right on time." He slipped his hand underneath her dress and put it on her naked thigh.

"Get your hand off of me," she said.

"I don't know why you always got to get so het up when I touch you. You sure don't mind it when we're fucking."

"Look, you asked me for a ride. And I gave it to you. Ok? I'm not washed and I'm tired and I just want to go home to sleep."

Instead of removing his hand from her thigh, Harold, moved his hand upwards towards her cunt."

"I told you to stop," she said.

"I just want to see if you're wet," he said.

"I said stop."

But his hand, or at least a finger, had passed through her slit and into her pussy. "You are soakin' wet," he said. "Sloppy wet."

"Leave me alone. We're here. Get out and go to your party," she said. At the same time she was saying that, though, she parted her knees slightly, giving him easier access to her cunt.

He didn't answer her, instead, he reached over to the tissue box in the car, pulled three or four tissues from the box. Crumbled them up into a wad and wiped her cunt hole with the wad. "Just tryin' to keep you from staining your car seat or your dress more with your skanky cum juice."

"There's as much of your nasty cum there as there is my 'skanky juice' as you say. Now, just get out of this car and let me go home. You promised."

"See, you always gotta argue with anything I say." Harold said.

MaryJane knew very well that there was no profit for her in arguing with Harold. She wasn't likely to win the argument and it nearly always ended in her giving in to what ever he wanted. "Ok," she said. "I'm sorry. But I really want to go home. You're here. So just open the door and say goodbye."

"Ok." He said, surprising her with his easy acquiescence. But, instead of opening the door and getting out, he turned to her and this time put his hand on the outside of her dress over her thigh. He pressed down with his hand and she could feel his fingers press into the flesh of her thighs through the thin material of her dress. "How about just a little kiss, goodbye," he said.

She couldn't recall his ever before asking for a kiss. Kissing Harold wasn't exactly high up on the list of things she fantasized about or even wished for. His pimply face, thick lips and foul smelling mouth weren't terribly enticing. But if it was the price for getting him out of her car, she would do it. She leaned over a bit and pursed her lips.

His hand still over her dress and pressing into her thigh, he leaned over from his seat and covered her mouth with his, forcing his tongue between her lips and past her teeth. Before she knew what was happening, they were exchanging spit and tongue wrestling. His hand, still over her dress, moved upwards to the juncture of her thigh and her torso. She could feel his hand teasing her cunt to excitement as it pressed down just next to the hairy mound of her sex. She had no idea of what had happened, but, suddenly, her groin area was on fire and she could feel the inside walls of her pussy lubricating. She had just managed to disengage her mouth from his to tell him that, "We have got to stop this," when she heard, from behind her car, the sound of another car entering the driveway behind her car and parking there. "I won't be able to move my car," she told Harold. "I'm boxed in. Get out and tell them to let me out." But, instead of doing as she had asked, Harold began to kiss her again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Again, she was unable to pull away and ended up returning his kiss. She heard whoever had driven the car behind hers, exit from that car and slam its door closed. From the corner of her eye, she could see the tall figure of a man pass her car and go into the house they were parked in front of. She thought she saw Harold raise one hand and wave to the person who had walked past her car. She used all her strength to push him away. "Harold," she told him, "Harold, you have got to tell whoever that was, to move his car and let me out. I have to go home. You promised."

"Don't worry so much."

"No, no." MaryJane insisted. "You promised. Get him to back his car out so that I can leave."

"You are a real ball buster," Harry whinned. "But, Ok." He got out of the car and walked over to the house.

As he entered the house, Mrs. Huffman leaned over and locked the car door. She sat in the car waiting for him to come out. She wanted to go home and go to sleep. The car had a foul smell, a mingling of her and Harold's odors and the remnant of the late night activities in the car with Augie and Buck, and, of course Harold. She wanted to open the window to air the space out, but was afraid to open the window. Closed it offered her some protection. This neighborhood didn't seem to her to be the safest in the world, even at ten in the morning.

When, after five minutes, Harold still hadn't come out of the building, Mrs. Huffman got antsy. She flipped her sun visor down and inspected her face in the mirror. Ugh. Her hair wasn't a mess, that would be too nice a way to describe her hair. Her almost brown blond hair was totally uncombed. She attempted to get it in some order by running her fingers through the unruly mop, but without avail. Where was Harold? He couldn't have forgotten about her. She flipped the mirror back up. She was pretty, she knew. Most people described her as very good looking, maybe beautiful, at the least cute. But she was hardly cute, beautiful or even good looking at the moment, more bedraggled and dirty, unkempt. She should have showered after the sex last night, but had been too tired. Stupid Harold hadn't given her time to wash up this morning. And now look at her, she thought: sitting in her car wearing a cum splattered and wrinkled dress, no underwear, smelling of sex and looking like what she was, a fucked up, fucked out 31-year-old slut.

She looked around the car. The back seat where she had masturbated and blown Augie and Buck last night, and where she had fucked and been fucked and what else by Harold after Augie and Buck had left looked innocent at the moment without debauchery going on. The seat looked a lot better than she did. She looked behind her. The car boxing hers in was still there. The car seemed to her to be in a sexual situation. Her car with its front touching the door of the garage. The car behind hers nudging against her car's rear. Yeah, she thought, it would seem real sexy, if you were a slut. But where was Harold?

She blew the horn. Nothing. Once again. Still nothing. A third time. Finally the door to the house opened and someone looked out. It was a young Black man, maybe twenty, twenty-one years old. He looked at MaryJane for a second and then went back in.

After a few seconds, another young Black man opened the door and looked out. More success this time, he walked, sauntered would be a better description, to her car. She rolled down her window.

"You Harold's teacher, the lady brought him here?" he asked.

"Yes, that's me," she said. "Harold was supposed to be getting the guy parked behind me to come out and move his car so I could get out. Where is he?"

"Harold said for you to come in for a minute," said the young Black man.

"I am sorry, I can't," she smiled sweetly. "I have to be getting home. Could you please get the driver of the car behind me to let me out." No way was MaryJane going to get out of her car and go into that house. She had a way of getting into 'situations' every time she did what Harold suggested.

"Harold said for you to come in for a minute."

She smiled again at the young Black man. "I really would like to, but I can't. Could you ask Harold to come out. I need to speak with him. Please"

The man gave MaryJane a long looking at. She couldn't be positive, she didn't want to be caught staring, but it sure seemed as if he had a major erection poking against the material of the basketball shorts he was wearing. "I'll try to get him to come out," he said and turned around to walk back into the house. MaryJane rolled her window back up and waited for Harold to come speak to her. If that was an erection she had seen, it was quite impressive, she thought. She waited it seemed like ten minutes this time, but Harold still hadn't come out.

"Fuck this," she thought. She got out of the car and walked towards the house.

She waited, trying to gather her thoughts before, finally, knocking on the door. After a few seconds, another young Black man, different from the one who had come to the car before, opened the door. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Uh, I need to speak to Harold. I'm his teacher. I gave him a ride here. Could you ask him to come out here?"

"He said for you to come in and talk with him. He's busy."

MaryJane couldn't think of any reason she could give to remain outside. On the other hand, she really didn't think it was a good idea for her to go in. "Please ask him to come out, I only need to speak to him for a couple of seconds."

The man at the door looked at her for a long time. Finally, he scowled. "Stay here. I'll get him."

She wished he'd hurry. MaryJane had been waiting at the door for maybe five minutes (It seemed that long) when the door opened and Harold stepped out.

"Whyn't you come in when they asked you?" he said.

"You were supposed to get the driver of the car boxing me in to move it so I can get out," she said.

"He don't want to move it."

"What?"

"He don't want to move it, that's why I told you to come in."

"You promised."

"He don't want to listen to me."

"Harold, please."

"Why don't you just come in. Maybe he'll listen to you." Harold lowered his voice, "They saying that maybe the reason you ain't coming in is because they're Black."

"That's absurd," she said.

"I'm just saying that that's what they saying. Look, just come in for a few minutes. You'll see."

Whatever part of her mind wasn't addled by a lack of sleep and an excess of sex fatigue was telling MaryJane Huffman that the one thing she shouldn't do is follow Harold into the house. But addled and Fatigued non-thinking won the day. "Alright, but just a few minutes," she said. She followed Harold into the house.

As soon as she entered what she supposed was the living room, MaryJane realized that listening to Harold and coming in here wasn't the smartest thing she had ever done. As a matter of fact it was stupid. Why was she so dumb? She had no will power. And, although she wanted only to leave this place, go home and go to sleep, a tingling of her clit and a hardening of her nipples testified to her stupidity. She saw the outline of the guy's big prick, and she got all horny. But, no matter, as soon as she could, she was out of here.

The room was barely furnished. A couple of kitchen chairs, an easy chair, a coffee table, a couch, a television set showing a pornographic movie and a computer set up in the corner. No pictures on the walls, no curtains but shades drawn down. On the table a large baggy filled with marijuana. A bong sat on the table next to the baggy. A haze of smoke hung in the room, no doubt Marijuana smoke. There were four people in the room. Two people, Harold identified them as Marquise and Leroy sat on the couch, the third, who looked to be the driver of the car that had boxed MaryJane's car in, was identified as Buttah by Harold. "So this is the party you were in such a hurry to get to," she said to Harold.

"Yeah, great, ain't it," he replied.

"Leroy got off the couch and walked over to where MaryJane was standing. "Hey, you my boy Harold's teacher from school?" he said. "I'm glad to be meeting you. Harold told us all about you."

"She the teacher fucked the whole high school," muttered Buttah from his chair in front of the computer. He didn't turn around to look at MaryJane as he said that.

"It wasn't the whole school, just six guys from one class," she said. Why hadn't she just ignored Buttah's comment. It must have been the marijuana haze that made her respond. She turned to Leroy. "I really need to get the car boxing mine in moved so that I can get out of here and go home."

"Hey, join the party for a while, take a toke," he said.

"I'd like to, but I really have to go." she said.

Marquise looked away from the television screen and the porno movie he was watching to look at MaryJane. "You the babe who don't shave her cunt?" he said. He looked back at the television screen that MaryJane saw was displaying a gang bang flick of some sort.

This time she didn't respond to the comment. Coming in to this place, she thought to herself again, was a stupid mistake. "Could you get someone to move the car blocking mine?" she said to Leroy. She hated Harold. Hated him with a passion. First, he had gotten her into this situation, and, second, the jerk didn't know how to shut up. What else had he told them about her?

"Uh, we got a problem about that," said Leroy.

"What?"

"The car blockin' yours in is Buttah's, but he don't wan to move it."

"Why?"

"He says that you shoulda told him to move it when he drove in. That now he is busy."

"It'll only take a minute," MaryJane said.

"I said I was busy. Later," she heard Buttah growl from his station at the computer.

She looked at Harold for help. He had gotten her into this situation. "Harold," she said, "you know that I need to get home. You promised."