Chapter 4Content: MF MMF oral anal ir rough
Things were quiet until Friday. The 'Mack's friends' part of 'The second month, you fuck Mack's friends until you can pay' got clarified then. Mack held poker parties on Friday nights -- coincidentally in another condo in my complex that wasn't where he lived -- and 'Mack's friends' were a rotating group of guys that appeared around that table. Sometimes, the attraction was just poker -- but others, there was more serious items of entertainment. This month there were three: Cindy, Charlene, and Irene. Cindy was in Month Two anyway -- and Charlene and Irene, being in Month Three, had Month Two requirements layered underneath.
Being Mack's partner granted an automatic invite. Mack's words to me were, "Take one home after if you want -- but who knows whether you'll want to bother." I pretty much figured he was talking about sloppy sixteenths or something.
I got there early, because Mack wanted it that way. I watched from the balcony as he pulled up in the Caddy and the women got out and he led then upstairs. Each was carrying a gym bag or a laundry bag, which I found interesting.
Each of them made a point of saying "Hi, Pete!" as they came in and Cindy vamped me; "You're too damned popular," Mack groused. I merely grunted. Charlene, who was apparently acting as straw boss, led them off to one of the bedrooms to drop their bags, then they headed back downstairs. I ambled back to the balcony with Mack to see them unloading food and booze from the car; the first thing Mack had done on arrival was pour a scotch and water. "Do you play?" he asked.
"Poker?" I clarified. "I understand the basics, I think."
"Good," Mack grunted. "We need someone who can lose."
Mack just grinned.
The next half-hour or so was all about setting up the table and the snacks and the drinks -- and the smokes. We seemed to have every chip you could think of and pretzels and dips and a bunch of other crap -- no vegetable tray or anything that might be sort of healthy, though. The closest thing to that were the pickles and olives and onions and hot peppers in the nachos Irene set up -- complete with spicy ground beef. I knew what I was eating! I was pleased to see Irene sampling heavily from the pan -- and Mack, who was supervising, not complaining about it.
About seven-thirty, Mack grunted, "Awright, go get ready. You can fart around with the rest of this shit once you're dressed." I discovered at that point the the gym bags held nylons and garter belts and high heels -- and held their arrival and departure outfits, too, in the interim. Mack provided the rest of the wardrobe; the closets held a bunch of those starchy maid outfit skirts with the frilly under layers and the chests of drawers held red fishnet body stockings. Charlene apparently knew where everything was; I hung out indolently in the bedroom door, mimicking Mack, while the women changed clothes. When they were done, Mack lined them up for a look. There were no bras, of course -- and no panties. Nipples stuck through fishnet -- and Cindy's dripped. "Shit," Mack grumbled. "You've got pads, right?"
"Yes," Cindy nodded.
"Stick'em under there -- but if anybody gets thirsty, give 'em a drink."
"Yes, Mack. Are you going to wring me out again?"
"Nah. You enjoyed it too much." He swept them with his eyes. Irene was shifting from foot to foot; Charlene managed to appear bored. "Awright, back to the salt mines. Does anybody have any questions about what they'll be doing tonight?"
Charlene and Irene shook their heads, but Cindy raised a hand -- just to see what it would get her, I think. "I suppose I'll be serving..."
"Ya think?" Mack rasped. Irene let go a nervous giggle. "You do what I tell you. If I tell you to suck a dick, I don't wanna hear nothing but wet sloppy noises. Later on, things will probably open up; if I tell you it's open season, you do whatever ANYONE tells you. Understand?"
"Relax, you'll love it. We'll get somebody to cornhole you with a bottle brush or something." Mack grinned nastily.
The others started wandering in between seven-thirty and eight. Two of them were our sales guys -- which surprised me a bit -- but, hey, they were sales guys. Bill, in particular, was a sleaze -- but he got the job done. Bob -- well, I won't go into Bob. Let's just say that there were occasional indications that he had limits -- but this wasn't one. Joe was a mechanic or something (I later learned that he owned a junkyard) -- and looked it. Mack called him Joe Shit the Ragman -- or just Ragman. I don't think I ever learned his name. He was a classic for having a woman look at him and say 'We don't want any.' He was big and beefy and there was no way you were going the get the grime off of those hands. Add a beer belly and a two-day beard and shaggy hair and there you have it. I'm sure he probably bathed before coming over, and his coverall was clean, if frayed -- and the women were lucky that he made the effort, I figured. From a male perspective there really wasn't anything wrong with him -- he was more authentically male than some. But that included the parts that tended to repulse females.
Marty was a bookkeeper -- or maybe just a bookie. He was over forty and fat and balding -- and what hair he had was slicked back with some kind of goo. He was the loud sport coat type -- which I'd assumed was just a stereotype up to that point. Well, surprise, surprise... Okay, so, he was a little taller than Danny DeVito (not much), and he had a moustache -- but he was wider, too, and had the attitude the actor was famous for. His first comment was "Huh! Same as last month. Who's the fat bitch?"
Mike the bartender showed up and looked a little sheepish; I could sympathize.
The last of the eight was a guy named Hugo, who was one of our general contractors. He looked like a Black - Hispanic mix, but talked like a Caribbean islander from somewhere -- maybe Jamaica. He was built kind of like Buddha, and pretty genial.
I leaned aside to Mack and said, "These are friends?"
"Okay, business acquaintances," Mack grunted. "I couldn't fill the table with friends -- and if I could, some of them would be too broke to play." He looked around and grunted, "Awright, let's play some cards." I got a sketchy introduction and plopped down across the table from him between Bob and Hugo -- and proceeded to lose my shirt.
Well, it wasn't that bad -- nickel, dime, quarter stuff -- but I wasn't winning. Mack teased me and said I was too innocent and didn't have a poker face. Marty was all over me like a coat of paint; I spent a lot of time wondering why his nose wasn't broken in six places. I think he sensed that I would have liked to volunteer -- and it amused him. I got myself under control, and when the barbs weren't visibly effective any more, he backed off.
Three or four of them were smoking like chimneys -- and we were ALL drinking something or another. Early on, the women were just there to wait tables -- maybe getting an ass rub while they stood next to somebody after delivering a drink. Cards, booze, and food were serious -- in that order. I got smarter, but more reckless -- too much beer. Wins and losses started getting spectacular.
I think the first serious sex move was Ragman; he said, "So, how's your ass, Baby?" to Cindy and I looked up to see her standing there beside him, looking a little shaky and uncomfortable while Mack pinned her in place with his eyes. Ragman produced a finger that obviously had shit on it and grunted, "Messy," then picked up a napkin and wiped it off and handed it to her.
Mack said, "Charlene, fix it," without removing his eyes from Cindy and Charlene collected her and headed off somewhere. In a few seconds, I picked up a squawk of, "Jeezus! An enema?" -- but it was time to call and I had three queens...
Cindy came back a few minutes later, walking a little hunched-over. Mack gestured her over and made a production out of rubbing and patting her belly -- after very little of which Cindy went, "Ooooooohhhh!" and ran for the bathroom. Yeah, I laughed, too. Ragman gave the other two the bung test, but they were clearly ready for it.
Marty was the next one to push the envelope obviously -- I might have missed more subtle goings-on, due to my state. I'd backed off on the beer, but I hadn't recovered. He looked around and announced, "I'm up fifty, thanks to Pete, so I guess I'll sit this one out and get in a little fun!" He pushed a stack of chips at Mack and turned to Irene. "Come over here and see if you can get me in that big mouth of yours -- balls and all, Bitch." I gathered from that that he wasn't hung. Irene actually looked relieved while she went over and dragged his pants down and buried her face between his thick thighs. Marty rocked back so she could get under his pot. He was a major distraction, what with the moans and groans of pleasure and the crap he enjoyed himself talking, so we basically stopped playing to watch -- not that it was great porn, or anything. He called Irene a nigger bitch and a slut and a coon and anything else he could think of -- fortunately, Hugo was the closest we had to her race and he didn't seem to mind. She jerked him off while rolling his balls around in her mouth and licking his nasty ass, then sucked him; I was pretty sure it didn't count as deep throat, since he clearly wasn't hung.
Probably the good news was that he only lasted a couple of minutes -- the whole thing was kind of disgusting, mostly from his approach to it. He insisted that she take his load on her face -- because she didn't deserve to drink it, according to him. I'd never understood why that seemed to be such a great thing -- I assumed that they did it in porn so you knew the guy actually blew a nut, although creampies served the same purpose. Anyway, she sucked him to his peak then sat there on her heels and let him decorate her face, after which he was all happy -- clearly because he'd gotten even with the female half of the human race for years of neglect. I could see his point, actually, but it seemed to be he was being sorry-assed about it.
When he was done, Mack looked around and said, "Since we're takin' a break, is anybody else gonna want to get a load off?" I watched them; Bill and Bob seemed content to wait, while Ragman thoughtfully riffled his chips, counting them. Mike sat back, watching, like me, and Hugo scratched his belly reflectively. Looking at this bunch, I had to admit a street hooker would probably see dollar signs, but of the three we had only Charlene was really close to that mindset.
Ragman grunted, "You're gonna have to give me another twenty on my limit, or I'll be so short you sharks will be able to close me down." We were playing with a hundred dollar limit and Mack and Marty and Bill had most of the money. By eyeball, Ragman was sitting on about sixty, so if he punched in fifty, which seemed to be the going rate, he'd be down to ten bucks for cards.
Mack looked around. "Gents? Any issues?"
"More for me," Marty jibed. Nobody demurred.
Ragman fished a twenty out of his wallet and separated out the rest in chips. "You, Chunky. Bend over the couch arm and we'll see how clean you got."
"Wear her out," Mack advised. "She loves that shit. Don't feel guilty about making her ass red -- she loves THAT, too!" Meanwhile, Cindy minced over to the couch and bent over, watching Ragman as he got up and headed her way, unbuttoning his coverall.
"What's that shit over your nipples, anyway?" Ragman asked her.
"I'm breastfeeding," she told him. "They drip."
Ragman took a surprised suck on his cigar. "Milk?"
"No shit. Take off your top, then. I'm gonna get a drink."
Cindy looked at Mack, who just looked back. She got the hint and undid the snaps at the crotch of the body stocking and worked it out from under the skirt and over her head.
"I'm gonna lay on the couch," Ragman told her. "You climb on top and feed me tit and pull on my dick and I'm gonna see if I can't dry them things out for you." In the meantime, he got his big, hairy hulk out of his coverall and work boots.
Hugo broke up things by rumbling, "Mebbe I get some from Charlene." He sorted out some chips and got up to shamble over and tower over her. "How you want it?"
Charlene, unfazed, replied, "It's on you, Honey -- it's your quarter."
"Okay. I go on the rug. You suck a little then ride that motherfucker," Hugo directed.
"Fix me a drink, Irene," Mack directed. "Anyone else want watered?"
"Bring me a plate of those nachos," I interjected. I needed food, bad. "Come to think of it, I'll eat at the bar." I got up and ambled over while Irene made Mack's drink and watched her reheat the nacho fixings so they were fresh for me. The bar gave me a view of both proceedings, anyway, and they weren't the disgusting spectacle that Marty had been.
If I'd had any doubts about Cindy's masochism, watching her with Ragman put them to rest. He wasn't gentle with her jugs -- but then, he was watching her face the same as I was, and the pleasure mixed with the pain was obvious in her expression. Given her reactions, it didn't bother me. He had a cock that wasn't spectacularly long, but was as thick as a salami -- and we all knew where it was going. Cindy jacked it and grunted and groaned while he milked her harshly; I figured she would have serious finger marks for a few days, after.
Hugo had some fairly serious meat, it turned out. Charlene had no problem getting him up and running, then she sat on it and started posting, telling him how wonderful it was. It was a pure hooker's performance -- I didn't believe a word of it -- but that wasn't my problem, anyway. It's amazing to me that the little ones seem to be able to take the biggest dicks. Hugo played with her nipples and more or less silently enjoyed himself.
Irene put my plate out and I said "Thanks," to which she replied, "No problem, Baby," and presented her lips for a kiss -- which I gave her.
"You know where that mouth has been, right?" Marty jibed.
"I figure she wasn't challenged any," I shot back. There were several chuckles, including Mack's. Irene smiled but said nothing, coming around the bar to settle within reach. She wanted a little attention, so I gave it to her, wrapping an arm around her and cupping a tit. She ended up feeding me nachos while we watched the floor show.
When Cindy's tits were drained, Ragman had her get up and bend over the couch arm, then he proceeded to push that soda can cock of his into her ass using just a little spit as lube. Cindy screamed bloody murder -- but the look on her face said that she wanted it. Mack got up and stuck two fingers in her mouth to keep the volume down until Ragman got in and got going, then he let her moan and groan to her heart's content. Ragman made her ass red, too, but that didn't seem to be a problem, either. Mack wandered over and settled against the bar beside me. "She's gonna be a problem."
I eyed him. "That depends, doesn't it? If she gets carried away and misses four times..."
"Yeah, you're probably right. She isn't smart enough to do it right." Mack eyed Irene while he said it. I wasn't sure what she was supposed to take away from the conversation; it could have been a personal warning, or just an injunction not to tell Cindy, or both.
Ragman grabbed Cindy's shoulders and crushed her back to him; she bent her back, which was a mistake -- I was afraid he was going to fold her in half ABOVE the waist -- while he arched into her and blew his nut up her ass. "YAH! SHIT! GODDAMN!" After he'd pumped her a couple of times, he let go of her shoulders and she flopped forward. Then he pulled out -- and Irene turned her head away. The reason was clear in about six seconds; Ragman stepped around to where Cindy was puffing and blowing and stuck his dick in her mouth, grabbing her head to make sure she didn't go anywhere. "Yuck," Irene whispered.
"If you two cleaned her out properly, it shouldn't be too bad," Mack grunted. "Besides, she's done it before." Cindy had her hands on Ragman's hips, but she didn't seem to be fighting him.
"That's it, Honey -- blow that load!" Charlene encouraged Hugo. "Fill me up!" Hugo certainly looked to be doing his best, from the way he was driving up into her from below, grunting. When he settled down, Charlene cycled up and down on him a few times, slowly, then hopped off and knelt to give him a quick kiss then clean his cock, her hands between her legs to staunch the flow of goo. When she was done with that, she hopped up and waggled her ass out of there to the bathroom, visibly putting another notch in her lipstick case. Hugo sat bolt upright to watch her go grinning. "That be good shit!"
"So that's the deal?" I asked Mack. "Fifty bucks a pop?"
"For starters," Mack agreed. "Any which way. Later, they'll just fuck; the guys are more or less paying for firsts or seconds. After they're all opened up, it's a free for all. That's what some of those other vultures are waiting for."
"How far do you push it?"
"For a while yet," Mack replied, lurching away from the bar. "Let's play cards!"
So we went into the second round. This time, the women were naked, having been divested of their little outfits during the first round. We wanted things pretty regularly, as it was an opportunity to get grabby. I took an opportunity to pull Charlene's head down to my level and whispered, "Did you get anything out of that?"
She gave one of those Mona Lisa smiles of hers. "Maybe later." Well, I'd more or less figured as much. She held one of my hands to one of her nipples for a bit, more to mask the conversation than anything else. I nibbled her neck a little and Mack growled at me to pay attention to the bet.
Cindy stuck herself between Ragman and Bill and Ragman teased her by poking a finger up her ass -- or maybe two. She would whine a little about how it hurt -- but she wouldn't go anywhere and she would suck his fingers when he pulled them from her ass and presented them. Bill made her spread her legs while he stuck two rough fingers in her pussy.
Eventually, Mack grunted, "You two gonna fuck around or play?" That put Bill on the spot. I could read his mind; paying for pussy was a blow to his ego and, theoretically at least, he had his own supply at home -- but he wanted to abuse Cindy. I watched him pull at his lip, then, "Fuck it." He kicked chips at Mack.
"Take her over there -- we're still playing," Mack grunted. "What about you, Ragman? Half price -- you've been in it once already."
"Yeah, fuck it." He kicked out twenty-five. "What do you want, Bill?"
"Leaves me two holes..." He stood to shamble toward the couch. Bill, who had been waiting, stood without removing the two fingers he had buried in Cindy's twat and used them to lead her off. I eyed Mack and folded; he was too intent on the game not to have good cards.
By the next hand, Cindy was squealing like a stuck pig into Ragman's hand covering her mouth. She was on her back with Ragman's cock up her ass while Bill had some fingers in her twat and looked to be biting the shit out of her clit. She bounced and thrashed and squealed and I'd have been concerned if I hadn't known better. Eventually, Bill tired of that and climbed on top to pound her pussy -- it was pretty distracting for some. I managed to keep my head and even won a hand before Bill blew a nut in her and climbed off, stopping to feed her his gooey dick. Then Ragman rolled her off the couch and onto the floor where he took his second piece of her ass, taking it no easier on her than he had the first time.
This was all too much for Mike. "Charlene," he croaked, "I need a blow job."
"Sure, Honey," Charlene replied, coming up from where she was leaning on the bar, "Are you sure that's all you want? There's pussy... Ass seems popular..."
"We'll start with a blow job." Having separated out the necessary chips, Mike slid back from the table and stood up to shuck down his pants. I sat and watched Charlene go to her knees and take him in quite professionally, bobbing and sucking and jacking and fondling his balls. I didn't give Mike three minutes.
"Get over here, Bitch," Marty snapped, and Irene headed over to him. "How's your ass?" he asked, once he'd sorted out the necessary chips. Marty could afford it; he was still doing very well.
"That's an opinion thing," Irene replied. "You know he did me before. Hurt, too. But it's been a while -- I've recovered."
"Yah? Good enough. Over the couch arm, then, Bitch."
I kept an eye on them -- largely because the biggest thing on Irene was probably her butt and Marty hadn't surfaced a lot of dick. He managed to make it work, though. Soon he was pounding away, apparently adding to his enjoyment by calling Irene stuff like 'worthless nigger bitch' and 'useless black slut.' Clearly, that was Marty's thing -- establishing his supremacy by abusing others. It was a chunk of everything he did. There was no way that he was ever going to fuck Charlene, because there was no way he could penetrate her aloof self-confidence. Cindy might be another matter, but that would be because Cindy WANTED the bottom. Since this was neither the time nor the place to confront Marty with what an asshole he was, I put it away and played cards. With Bill off recovering and Ragman still in Cindy's ass and Mike getting his head, that left me, Mack, Hugo, and Bob. About that time, I realized that Bob was there to play cards -- well, and watch, maybe, but his dick was going to stay in his pants. Since everyone else was either drunk or distracted, he was starting to do well. The realization made me more wary of him -- and I did better as a result.
Ragman finally finished tearing Cindy a new asshole, getting up and wandering off to the bathroom without the ritual of shoving his dirty dick in her mouth. Marty didn't last much longer, and to my surprise, he forbore, too, so I figured the silly season was probably over. That left Mike -- and Charlene was in concert with his skin flute. She had him wrapped up tight, sitting on the edge; I figure it was a matter of pride with her. If all he wanted was a blow job, he was gonna remember HERS for quite some time... She was changing up speeds, pumping, licking, bobbing to different depths (including root deep) playing with poor Mike's balls... You could tell he was in an agony of pleasure -- she was holding him just below the peak!
Mack let the exhibition go on for maybe fifteen minutes before grunting, "Charlene, finish him." Charlene dove on him and I'm pretty sure she fingered his asshole; Mike flopped like a fish and let out a yell and she was swallowing, sucking him dry. When he flopped back and she stood up, smiling, Mike couldn't get up energy to say anything; he just waved at her. She waved back and swayed off, wiggling her well-used ass. A couple of us laughed, but we were all aware that she could probably handle us all by herself.
Desultory card play went on for another hour or so, then Mack said, "Time for dessert, I think." I got it from the context; we cashed in and got our winnings -- or the leftovers, depending upon how well we did. I broke about even, my early losses covered by later wins. The women packed away the chow and the beer and were about finished when Mack waved grandly and said, "Go get 'em, Boys..."
I stayed where I was, as did Bob and Mack. Hugo dragged Cindy out of the kitchen, rolled her on her back, and proceeded to put the meat to her -- where it belonged, this time. Bill hauled Charlene out for similar. Mack eyed Ragman and Marty, but Marty bit off the tip of a cigar and spat. "I've had enough shit for tonight.," he announced. "Time to head home. A pleasure, as always, Mack." He swept out regally -- the King of the Pissants.
Ragman eyed Irene for a minute, then grunted, "I'm a little sore. Bring me another beer, willya?" Irene complied. Ragman knocked it back pretty quickly, though, before sliding back into his coveralls and heading out the door with barely a wave.
Mike got up and said, "I gotta open by noon. I'll see you guys tomorrow," and headed out. Bob waited until the sex on the floor was over (Hugo lasted the longest) and said, "Thanks for the beer and cards and entertainment, Boss," saluted, and hit the street. We'd had a quiet moment and I'd asked him why he wasn't in there swinging. He looked a little embarrassed and said, "Margaret likes to hear the stories -- it spices up things for us. But I take it home to her."
The other two cleared out as soon as they'd cleaned up, properly appreciative, leaving Mack and I and the women. "I'm gonna go take a nap," Mack announced. "Pete, you wanna run the girls home?"
Somehow, I knew that shit was coming. "Yeah, sure, Mack. Get your shit, ladies."
"Give us a minute for first-aid, Pete," Charlene chuckled, hauling Cindy off to the bathroom.
I followed Irene to the bedroom and watched her change clothes. "Mack and his butt-hole buddies," she complained. "That big motherfucker did me last time -- I was afraid I was gonna have to wear a diaper for the rest of my life!"
Cindy and Charlene came out of the bathroom, Cindy moving slowly. "Thank God Hugo finally found my pussy!"
"Bill did, too, didn't he?" I asked.
"Well, yeah..." Clearly, it hadn't been enough.
On the way home, I remarked, "You seemed unfazed, Charlene."
She shrugged. "Some of those guys are never going to get a steady woman. I figure pussy owes them. I was decorating a Harley at fifteen and I've fucked just about everything -- if it cuts down on the shit that happens when guys like that do without, and they're willing to pay my bills..."
I blinked. "What was that about shit happening?"
"Rapists and murderers and child molesters are desperate men," Charlene amplified. "I don't know of anything that makes a guy desperate like going too long without a fuck. They get angry at the whole other half of the human race and, well, shit happens."
"That's an interesting perspective," I observed.
"It's the real thing," Charlene insisted. "Ride with a gang for a while and you see what's mellow and what isn't. It applies to just about all guys. The world is full of stupid jackasses who are against the idea of making getting your rocks off an easy, inexpensive proposition -- and most of 'em subscribe to dating services. They hear stories on TV about some poor dick going nuts on people or rapists or serial killers or child molesters and they wonder, 'Gee, why did he do that, do you figure?' -- and it's right there in front of their faces; they legislated away every sexual outlet the poor fuck had and he exploded!"
I shook my head. "You make a compelling case."
"Look at that asshole Marty -- do you think he's EVER gonna score on a woman who isn't both blind AND deaf?" Charlene chuckled. "Gee, Irene, do you think he maybe has a grudge against women?" Irene snorted laughter despite herself. "Then there's Ragman. I've fucked big bears like him forever, and they're usually pretty mellow -- but they don't attract chicks. He's getting bitter -- but the REAL reason he does girls in the ass is because that cock of his takes a lot of work to get in a pussy!"
"Really?" I asked. "I thought..."
"Yeah, Honey, they get bigger -- with practice. I can take him -- but he probably wouldn't believe it. As a rule, Ragman is only gonna manage to chase down blubbery chicks with the same problem he has with lackanookie -- and they AREN'T practiced." When the laughter died down, she told Cindy, "Next time, go up and whisper in his ear that you want him to fist you. Once you're open, he'll hit the front end -- want to bet?"
Cindy looked thoughtful. "Um, no, no bet."
"He'll be a good ride for a few times," Charlene opined, "but he's not your type, Cindy. Once he's gotten in the groove, he'll mellow out and be a big teddy bear; he doesn't have the mean streak you're looking for. It seems like it now, but that would fade and you'd be... unsatisfied."
"What do YOU know about it?" Cindy snapped.
"I've been there, Honey," Charlene replied softly. "I've been there."
We arrived at the first house and Charlene and Cindy got out; Irene got out, too, but pulled open the front passenger door instead of walking off. "Pete?"
As it turned out, I wasn't.
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