This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere.
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The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead (or just confused) is entirely coincidental. Please do not copy/redistribute the story, in part or in total, without the author's permission.
This story takes place in the entirely fictional city of Springfield, California, so don't go looking for it on a map. And in my little fictional world, there are no unwanted pregnancies or STD's, except as plot driving devices. The author encourages the practice of safe-sex.
Also, although this story (and subsequent chapters) are placed in the "Novels and Novellas" category, that is primarily because no other single category made any more sense. This overall storyline has some aspects of group sex, interracial sex, lesbian sex, heterosexual sex, anal sex, as well as BDSM sexual activity. If any of these types of activities bother you, you might want to stop reading now.
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Torrie Jones couldn't have told you what had gone wrong if her life had depended on it. Only four years ago, she had been a happy if somewhat rebellious teenager in high school who had gotten good grades and had a bright if uneventful future all planned. In her senior year, something had changed. She had found herself increasingly discontent with her life. She had decided to take a year off before going to college, which her parents had felt might do her good. Then she had decided not to go to college, which had pissed her parents off to no end. But Torrie didn't care. She just couldn't see herself going the academic route anymore. But she had taken up sculpture in high school, where she had learned to weld. So she figured she could get certified as a welder and get a job that way. But she had put it off and put it off until that goal was nothing but a memory. She still created sculpture, but there was no career in sight.
At the age of twenty-two, Torrie was still living in the apartment over her parent's garage and working the graveyard shift at a nearby convenience store. Her parents, both of whom were decent blue-collar workers, were frustrated with their youngest child's lack of drive. She knew they loved her. They just didn't know what to do with her. They couldn't even hope that she would find a nice man and settle down. Torrie had been openly gay since she was seventeen. And it wasn't as if finding a woman should have been hard for her either. She was an attractive young woman with a lean body and a face that had often been described as "elfish." Working with metal had given her a pleasantly toned physique that was the recipient of many appreciative glances, and one of her hobbies besides sculpting was surfing. She loved the water and was an avid swimmer. Whenever she needed to clear her head, she grabbed a board and headed out into the waves. It was one of the advantages of living near the ocean.
But the weather outside that day was frightful, and you didn't want to be in the water during one of Springfield, California's rare lightning storms. So she found herself lounging on her couch while burning down another cigarette, reading a book of short stories and poems by Edgar Allen Poe and waiting for her shift to begin. Then the phone rang. She just stared at it, waiting to see if one of her parents was going to pick it up. One of them did. Then her mother's voice came bellowing up the stairs.
"Torrie! It's for you! It's Rachel!"
Torrie cocked an eyebrow but reached for the phone. She hadn't heard from Rachel in weeks, even though Rachel was probably Torrie's best friend. Rachel was true black beauty whose dad used to play professional football and now owned a series of automotive dealerships. But in the last couple months, Rachel had started ragging on Torrie just like her parents were. It had gotten tiring.
"Hey Rachel. Wa'as up?"
"God, I thought that phrase went out with the nineties," came the voice from the other end. "Hey, wanna grab some grub before your shift?"
Torrie was instantly suspicious. She was a vegetarian, but Rachel was almost entirely carnivorous. While they used to hang out all the time, they never ate together. Unless, that is, Rachel wanted something. "Sure," she said at last. "It has to be somewhere cheap though."
"Cool with me. Hey, mind if Jeremy and Frank tag along?"
"Sure!" For a moment, Torrie was genuinely excited. Jeremy was Rachel's big brother. If Torrie had a straight bone in her body, she would have been all over him. He was a former high school track star and quintessential stud-muffin. Women of all ages and races were drawn to his Adonis body and natural charm. Frank was a friend of Jeremy's whose family had moved to California from Hawaii. He was a handsome islander, but women were just as attracted to his incredible sense of humor as anything else. They all used to hang out together all the time. Torrie realized that she didn't remember why they had stopped, but Frank was someone who could make a gargoyle statue smile, and she decided she wanted to smile. She and Rachel agreed on a time and place that was nearby (Torrie didn't have a car) and then she hung up the phone.
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Across town . . .
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Rachel hung up the phone and took a deep breath. She hoped this was the right thing to do. She turned to Jeremy and Frank and grimaced.
"I hope this don't backfire," she muttered.
"It's the right thing to do Sis," her brother said. "She's one of the smartest people I know, and she's just wasting time at a dead end job."
Frank placed a hand on her shoulder. "You KNOW dat right!" he said, getting a chuckle out of her. There wasn't anything quite as ridiculous as Frank trying to "talk ghetto." "Seriously, she needs an intervention. Let's just make sure not to get too 'in her face' about it. We need to let her know we're concerned. When and where?"
"Nine o'clock at the Wendy's on 4th Street. They've got those salads she likes."
"Cool," said Jeremy. "I've got to go visit one of my ladies!" he added, flashing a perfect smile. Rachel shook her head and rolled her eyes. Jeremy was a man-whore, plain and simple. His "little black book" was bigger than the telephone directories of a number of small cities, with a few special numbers on his speed dial. "I'll be done in plenty of time."
"I wouldn't go bragging about how quick you are," ribbed Frank who promptly had to duck a mock swing. "Anyway, I told my roommate I'd pick up some stuff. I figured I could do that now. See ya at nine."
Jeremy and Frank wandered out of the den, leaving Rachel alone. Despite their assurances, she was still worried about the upcoming confrontation. She knew that Torrie had gotten turned off when Rachel started pestering her about getting some kind of life-plan. But Jeremy was right about one thing: Torrie was way too smart to be working at a fuckin' gas station. Rachel remembered when her friend was reading a book every day or so. Poetry, philosophy, prose . . . she had been one of those renaissance women that they made movies about. And Rachel couldn't even figure out what had happened. It was like . . . like Torrie had slowly stopped caring . . . about anything.
She heard her father and his friends making a lot of noise as they watched the basketball game on television. She rolled her eyes again. Her dad and his buddies were quite probably the only Clippers fans in the entire city of Springfield, but they made up in enthusiasm what they lacked in numbers. She found herself wondering who all was out there. She needed to vent some steam before her talk with Torrie, and there was one of her father's coworkers who was handy for just such an occasion.
Rachel snuck down the hall and stared into the living room. There were about five men plus her dad. One of those men was Charlie Anderson. She smiled. She always heard stories about white girls wanting to have sex with black guys due to the legendary status of their penises. Rachel was in exactly the opposite situation. She was a young black girl who craved white meat. And truth be told, she was as much of a slut as her brother. She was just a little more careful about revealing her exploits, particularly since so many of her encounters involved friends of her brother or older men. And Charlie was one of her favorites. He had sandy-blonde hair, a v-shaped torso of rippling muscle (he was a construction worker) and the stamina of a teenager. More importantly, he had a HUGE dick.
She stood at the entrance to the hall, waiting for her prey to notice. At one point, Charlie reached forward to grab some popcorn. He looked up and noticed her. A smile played across his lips, then he glanced at John (Rachel's father). She tilted her head back down the hall and his eyes widened slightly. He knew that the two of them played a dangerous game, but that's what made it so interesting.
"Gotta use the toilet," he said.
"You and your small fuckin' bladder," John said, glancing towards the bathroom. Rachel had already vanished.
"Not the bladder. Gotta drop the kids off at the pool." He grabbed a newspaper off the coffee table. "This could take a while." He moved down the hall and into the bathroom where Rachel was waiting. She looked as hot as the first time he had caught her masturbating after stumbling into her room on accident, which had lead to an incredible fuck session. They both knew that if Rachel's father ever found out that there would be a shallow grave dug in the backyard, but that just made the whole thing more exciting. Every time he came over, Charlie immediately looked around for Rachel's prime ass. At the moment, she had that round booty parked on the edge of the sink and was unzipping her jeans.
"You're gonna get me killed," he said as he dropped his own pants and let his ten-inch rod spring forward.
"But what a way to go," she said, taking his massive organ in her hand. "We'll have to make it quick. I just need somethin' to tide me over." She leaned over and took the velvety mushroom head into her mouth and just held it there before sliding a few inches of the shaft into her throat. It had that smell of sweat that permeated the skin of men who worked hard for a living. She savored that smell and that taste as she downed more of that precious meat. It was already beginning to leak man-candy. She sucked about half of it down before coming up for air. "You were hopin' to get me alone, weren't you?"
