Thursday, November 19, 2015

Party girl-part 1 (Sex fantasy)

So, as most people who have spent any time with me in naughty chat knows, I have my own kink: public use/exhibitionism. I like to be watched. I have even seriously thought about camming, but I don't want to ruin my life. I know too many horror stories, and even have my own, of women who have had their lives ruined by letting the wrong person see them in sexually compromised positions. That doesn't mean I don't fantasize about it. As for why I am in the mood to write about a dark sexual use like this, objectification, debasement, things like that, I don't know, but, that is my mood.


"Please, just one line," I begged him. I was jonesing pretty bad. It had already been a couple days since I got high. Shit, too many people knew me at the parties I went to already, so getting a fix was harder and harder.

"I will suck your dick. Just one line."

I held out my hand, shaking bad. "I look like I am in the middle of a fucking personal earthquake. Just hook me up."

He still didn't seem to be willing, just staring at me, not bothering to say shit, to do shit. I was getting desperate. "One line, I will let you fuck me." His eyes lit up a little at that.

"Take it off," he said. "Then I will decide."

I knew what he meant. I wasn't sure if he was just trying to get a free look at a naked girl, or if he was really interested. Fuck it, I didn't care. I would have ran to his house naked for a line if he asked me.

I took off my sweats, my hoodie. I took off my panties and bra. They were nothing special, plain white panties, white under-wire bra. The cloth worn, the wire poking me, making red, angry sores on my breasts. Track marks trailed down my arms, across my thigh. My hair lank, unwashed. I was not ugly, but I looked like what I was-a junkie.

He just looked at me. It was creepy, his eyes holding no emotion, not even lust.

"One line, one fuck."

I nodded.

"Bend over the couch."

I waited where I was, not moving.

"What are you doing? Get over there whore."

I wasn't stupid. If I didn't get paid first, I wouldn't get paid after.

"Not until you give me the coke. I am not fucking stupid."

He gave me a look that said it all. I was fucking stupid. Just not stupid enough to bend over for this fucker without getting paid.

He grabbed a mirror and poured the course white powder on it. "You do it yourself. And if you try to run after, I will fuck you up."

I knew he would too. He could have just taken me and not even have bothered to honor his deal, but he did honor it anyways.

My hands shaking, I knelt down, putting the mirror with the cocaine on the table, crushing the rocks then chopping. The blade working up and down on the powder, dividing it, chopping it finer, finer still. It was a nice line.

He just watched, cold eyes. The other two guys in the room watched with more interest, but they were just peripherals. He was the dangerous one, the one I didn't want to piss off, or else he would just put a bullet in me and call it done.

I look up at him and saw the offered straw. Cheap shit too. It looked like it came from McDonalds or something. It probably did, and had probably been used.

I cut it small, shoving it into my nose, snorting up the precious white powder.

It felt the sting. It wasn't the best quality, but it was good enough. I could feel it burning my nostril, trickling down the back of my throat. I closed my eyes and savored the taste. I used to hate the taste. Fucking bitter, taste like chemicals. Now, I savored it, like the sweetest candy.

As it started hitting me, the high starting to take me, I went to the couch.

He came up behind me, grabbing my hair, pulling me behind the couch, instead of on it.

He shoved my head down, my face buried in the cushions. I heard the metal of his belt, the clasp coming undone. The zip of his pants, the rustling as they came down.

Soon, he was ready, cock against my opening, shoving itself in. It hurt like hell, and I screamed, but it didn't matter. The coke soon helped take the pain away, and he was thrusting into me. He pounded into me, over and over and over, hard, like hate sex. Soon he finished, pulling out. His hand moved to the back of my head, preventing me from lifting it.

Suddenly, another cock pushed against my pussy lips, slick with cum dripping from them. From the way he was holding my head, I knew it wasn't him, had to have been one of the others. I was taken by one of his boys, not much gentler, although now, with my pussy lubricated, my head pounding with the coke, it didn't matter. I tried to speak out, tell him this wasn't part of the deal. One line, one guy. It didn't matter. They were going to train me.

As I lay across the couch, my pussy pounded, I thought about how I had come to this. Not something I bother doing, but the coke was already in charge, making my mind whir with thoughts about...everything. It all started with my boyfriend.

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