Nasty at the Motel

I want you to see me do this.

I am driving my uncle's van. I am on my way to pick up Daddy Ford and Ray-Ray. I am deliriously excited. It has been three weeks since I first met these guys in the parking lot of a liquor store. Three weeks since I invited this pair of ex-cons to fuck me in the ass and then come in my mouth. They treated me like a whore, shot jizz and piss in my mouth. I gave Ray-Ray my number afterward, when I was dropping them off at the halfway house. He has called me every day since.

I don't answer his calls. They go directly to my voicemail box. He calls while I am at work. Having dinner with my parents. On a date with a respectable man. I see the number of the halfway house, and I ignore the call. Each night, when I get home, I am excited to listen to his messages. I usually listen to them while I am still in the car, and usually finger myself after listening, then wobble up the walk dripping and let myself into my house.

"Daisy? Hey girl, hey you nasty girl. Why don't you call a motherfucker back?"

I hear laughter in the background of his message. My name is not Daisy, but he thinks it is.

"Girl, I been thinkin' 'bout what we did to you in that motherfuckin' van in that motherfuckin' parking lot. You a nasty ol' white girl. You tell your nice white husband what you let a coupla niggas do? Piss all up in yo' mouth, fuck you in yo' asshole? You tell him that? I bet you don't. C'mon now, give a motherfucker a holla back. I know you got my number. I know you want it. I got some friends you could meet."

More laughter

. "Later, ho."

End of message. I hit save. There are twenty-nine of these now. I want to make a tape of them, play them back to back, over and over. I don't have a husband. I live alone.

But now I am driving my uncle's van. I have told him I am taking a group of friends into the city for a concert. I am driving into the city, but I am alone. I am bare-assed but sitting on a dishtowel. My pussy is already wet, and I need something to sop it up until I meet the men. I am picking up Daddy Ford and Ray-Ray. I finally called him back last night. We talked for a long time, spoke in whispered obscenities. He made me come twice, talking dirty and disrespectful. He told me to push my thumb up my own ass and think of his face and I did. He made me say, "I love being the nigger jizz jar." He made me promise to come by today. I may pick up some of his friends, or other men who live at the halfway house. I don't know if all the men who live there together are friends. Probably not. I do know Ray-Ray has told them about me, and he's told me that every one of them want to meet me. I want to meet them.

I am picking them up, and then we are going to a motel on Lincoln. Ray-Ray said its $31. for six hours. What motel rents rooms for six hours? I bet its a real dump. This excites me. I'm slumming it again.

I know I have to pay for the room. These men don't have jobs. I have the cash folded and stuck under the wristband of my watch. I'm not carrying a purse. My clothes have no pockets. I'm not even wearing a bra I can stash some cash in. Thirty-one dollars, a shaved pussy, and a fuck of a lot of nerve. That's all I'm bringing with me.

I'm wearing a bubblegum pink miniskirt. It is so short, when I first wore it, I was sure it didn't even cover the split of my pussy lips until I looked in a mirror and saw that yes, it does, but just barely. Still, the whole time I'm wearing it, I have the sensation, the image of myself with my pussy clearly visible. It makes me feel like the sluttiest sorority girl on campus, the one everybody has fucked. This skirt is a soft, soft brushed cotton, thin as an old t-shirt. It clings to the shape of my hips and ass like a liquid. If I wear pants, I want them to fit up into my crack, giving me a little bit of cameltoe and a good squeeze on my ass cheeks. If I wear a skirt, I want it to be short and clingy. This pink skirt lays nice along the crack of my ass. My crack is very visible. You think you can almost see through this skirt. If I am sitting, my ass is bare, my pussy clings to whatever I'm sitting on. If I am standing, the tiniest breeze can lift the hem to let you peek at my cunt. And I can slap a hand to my mouth as it forms an adorable

Oh!

of surprise. But its not a surprise, and I'd smile slyly at you to let you know.

I wear a skirt like this to show my cunt.

Up top, my big fat tits strain against the white cotton of my niece's t-shirt. She is nine. I am twenty-six, with DDD boobs. It is a small t-shirt. I was wearing a black halter top when I picked up the van from my uncle, but once I was driving, I saw this little t-shirt sitting on the passenger seat. I took off my halter and put on the t-shirt when I was sitting at a red light. A car full of teenaged boys sat mute and wide-eyed while the woman in the van next to them removed her top and let her massive titties bounce out. They watched her pull the tiny white t-shirt over her head and arms, but not down over her tits. They watched her smile and drive away. I drove for twelve blocks with my tits hanging out. It felt wonderful. The way they bounce when I drive over a pothole makes me crazy. I had to pull the shirt over my tits when a cop pulled up next to me. I'd totally fuck a cop, let him ream me out with his billy club. But I'm not brave enough to actually proposition one.

My areolas and nipples are clearly visible through the thin white cotton. If I were to walk into a grocery store, or a gas station, I might be asked to leave.

Obscene

. It is my favorite look, and one I'm sure Ray-Ray and his friends will appreciate.

I pull up in front of the halfway house and gesture for one of the four men sitting on the front stoop to come over. He is maybe twenty, surely no more than twenty-five. He is a smallish guy, so black he's almost purple in the bright sunlight of the day. His hair is short and shiny, with a shaved part line above his left temple. His cheekbones are flat and wide and his lashes are very long. A tattoo across his throat is almost invisible against his black, black skin. It is in a gothic script. In three inch letters, it says "Killer."

He stands next to my window and looks directly at my left nipple the entire time I'm speaking to him. This emboldens me. I tell him that my name is Daisy. I ask him his name and he say's its Boudro. I ask him if he can find Ray-Ray. He says that Ray-Ray is inside. I ask him if he will go tell him that his ride is here. He turns to go, and I catch the sleeve of his shirt. I ask him if he wants a ride too. I look him in the eye while I part my legs.

He looks into the van again and sees that I am pulling my pussy lips apart. They are shiny-bald.

I'm doing it, I'm doing it!

I am showing this man my clit, which is big and wet. I smile my prom picture smile at him. My heart is in my throat. Somehow I say, "I'd be happy to give you a ride too, Boudro, if Daddy Ford says its okay." It comes out sounding all cool and friendly.

He doesn't answer me, but stares at my clit for a minute. Without a sound, he retreats into the rambling house. I'm discovering that, contrary to popular belief, black men are careful and slow around a white girl who comes on like a slut. They want to be sure its not a trick. The other men on the stoop watch me. I don't mind. I consider getting out of the van and going over to sit with them. I think about how I will surely leave pussy slobber on the unpainted stoop. I decide to stay in the van.

I'm waiting for Ray-Ray a long time. While I wait, I watch the guys on the stoop watching me. I rub my clit and taste my finger. I do this over and over. Do they know what I'm doing? I come twice, never taking my eyes off the guys on the stoop. I shudder only slightly each time I come. I'm thinking

I can have all the black cock I want

. And now here's Ray-Ray. My god. I had forgotten how ugly he is. His smile reveals crooked and uncared-for teeth. Dusky brown gut hangs down below his shirt, over his belt. There are several men behind him. I do not see Daddy Ford.

"Hey, Boo." Ray-Ray pushes up against the van door. Boudro is right there with him. They look me up and down. "How you doin'?"

I smile. "I'm alright, Ray-Ray. How are you?"

"Mmm-mmm! Sho' good to see your sexy ass. Boudro says you already showin' off your thing to him." He looks at my pussy, which is not even close to covered by my little skirt. He licks his big ugly lips. They look like liver. He's not even looking at my face. He's talking to my cunt. "How many you got room for?"

There are seven or eight men in a group behind him. The guys from the stoop are in the group. My stomach lurches. I don't know how many I have room for. It depends on which hole each of them wants, if some of them will want more than one. I can't believe I'm considering this. Part of what keeps me going is how

unreal

it feels. I have become a different person.

"I dunno." I sound shy. "As many as we can get in here, I guess." This makes Ray-Ray laugh. Just as I'm about to ask about him, Daddy Ford comes strolling around the corner. When he sees the van, he never pauses. He walks right up to the passenger side and climbs in the front seat. He smiles past me to Ray-Ray, who wants to say something, I can tell. Daddy Ford snaps his fingers and laughs. "Shotgun!" He cries.

As the other men walk around the side of the van, led by Ray-Ray, Daddy pulls me to him, hugging me one-armed and says, "Hey, baby girl." He plants a wet kiss against my neck. I giggle, reach down and stretch my pussy lips again. "Look what I brought you Daddy!" I am showing him my clit, smiling like a good girl, like the birthday girl. I look so innocent. But I'm a whore.

"Lookin' good, baby girl. Gone get all up in that mess when we get to where we goin'."

I ask him, "You don't mind sharing?" Not that anything can be done about it now. Ray-Ray's piling halfway house guys into the van like we're about to make a getaway.

Daddy shrugs his wide shoulders. His black skin makes me salivate. "Sharin' last time was fun. The more the merrier, that's what I be sayin' 'bout

you."

Now here I am, driving a van full of black cocks to a nasty motel room on Lincoln Avenue. This entire van full of cock, nine men total, its all for me. As I navigate the streets toward our destination, I am thinking that I don't know if I can do this. I mean, I want to, but

physically.

I don't know how many times, or how long, or how hard I can get fucked before crying mercy. I doubt these men, all apparently ex-cons like Daddy and Ray-Ray, would be very gracious if I got up in the middle of it all and said I was tired and I wanted to go home.

I pull into the parking lot. This place looks like a dump. Its an L-shaped, two-storey brick motel like you see in shitty neighborhoods everywhere. There's garbage scattered around the building. The mortar between the bricks is crumbling. The iron steps and railing that runs the length of the walkway of the second floor needs to be painted. There are only a scattering of cars in the parking lot. I turn the ignition off and Daddy turns around in his seat.

"Listen up, niggas." They are already quiet, have been quiet most of the way over. They have sat in loose rows on the futon, murmuring to each other in hushed tones. I've been watching them in the rear view. I've been thinking that this part is awkward. They're in

rows

on the futon. Now I understand why Ray-Ray was so insistent about getting a room. (Actually, he wanted to come to my house. I told him,

I don't

think

so.

I may be a whorey white bitch, but I'm no dummy.) Every once in a while my eyes will meet someone's in the mirror. I don't know these men. I don't know them but I think I'm going to wind up getting fucked by all of them. I can't possibly be doing this. I am so excited to be doing this. I'm scared. I want to. This is going to be

beyond

nasty.

I haven't been able to hear over the sound of the engine, but it excites me to know they're talking about me. What else could they talk about? Now the engine is off but no one is saying anything, not even Ray-Ray. No one believes its going to happen, and it seems like they are all holding their breath.

Here, look. I am not some pasty fatty, some working-class piece of trailer trash. I do not have low self esteem. I am the white girl none of these guys has ever considered being able to get their hands on without using force. I am clean, upper middle-class, suburban in that John Hughes movie sort of way. I am young and pretty. I was a cheerleader in school. My teeth are straight and white. My blonde hair shines. My skin is supple and tender and Norwegian-white. They don't believe it will happen, that they will bury their cocks in me.

Daddy says, "We gone go in and get the room. Ya'll niggas just hang out here a minute. Once we get up there, ya'll come on up, but one at a time. Don't draw attention to the fact we gone be gangbangin' this white girl in one of they rooms."

I turn in my seat and look at the men in back, all sitting crowded on the futon. They all look back at me, all these black faces. I blow a kiss to Boudro, who smiles at me. He's a sexy little thing. I'd drink his come even if he weren't. I'm nasty.

Only Ray-Ray has the confidence about the situation to leer. I remember his piss in my mouth. My smile fades as I count again,

onetwothreefourfivesixseven.

And Daddy is eight. Ray-Ray, nine. My god. I don't know if I can do this. I don't even know what all they're going to want to do to me.

I reach for the door handle and Daddy stops me. "Whyn't you show these niggas your pussy 'fore we go in, baby girl. They ain't believe it."

Happy, obedient, I swing around in my seat and get up and crouch between the driver and passenger seats. I

squat.

Eight pairs of eyes ogle me as I reach down and stretch my cunt hole open for them. It glistens. I can smell it. I hope they can too.

No one says a word.

I climb out the passenger side of the van after Daddy. We walk a few steps toward the office and he stops and says, "Oh, I almos' forgot. I got this for you." From his pocket, he pulls a collar. It is a nylon dog collar, and it is not new. It looks like some actual dog wore this for a very long time. I can

smell

dog on it. Before I can say anything--

I don't want to wear this collar, Daddy, it stinks

-- he reaches around and snaps it closed around my neck. I am embarrassed. This isn't a shiny black patent slave collar. This wasn't bought at a specialty adult store. This is a

dog

collar. He probably found it somewhere. On the ground. In an alley. I feel nasty.

In the office, it gets worse. I hand over the money. I feel like a sucker,

paying

for the room

and

letting them fuck me. The fat Pakistani man behind the counter stares at my nipples, obvious through my shirt. As he watches, Daddy reaches over and pinches one. "My girl look

good

, don't she Akbar?"

Akbar is offended. He reeks of curry. There is a sheen to his skin. His pores are huge. I could fuck him. He says, "My name Yousuf,

Leeroy."

Daddy laughs. "Fair enough. But don't she look good, Yousuf? Don't she look just fine enough to eat?"

Yousuf fills out a card with our false information. He doesn't ask for ID. He says, "Yes sir, my friend. She look good enough to eat. You don't want to eat her, you call me. My number from your room 'zero.' I eat her all day for you. I eat her after you do whatever you do to her. You call. No charge on the room. I eat her all day."

My face is bright red. This collar stinks. I cannot look either of these men in the face right now. I am very aware of my pussy. Daddy laughs again. "Naw man, we pay for the room. She don't need you to eat her all day long. She gone be too busy for that." Yousuf hands over the key and Daddy takes it. Yousuf looks sad now.

Daddy says, "But tell you what, I'll let you lick her titty for a minute. You like that, Akbar?"

What the fuck? This is somehow different than the van full of halfway house guys. Am shocked out of my complacent whore mode. I do not want this man to touch me.

Already he is coming from around the desk. I realize he is not shy. He rents rooms to actual whores all night long. I bet he gets paid in pussy and hand jobs all the time.

He brings his curry stench right up on me, and Daddy rakes up my shirt so that my breasts are exposed. The office is just a glass box, and I can see out into the parking lot, into the van just fine. I can see Ray-Ray's face, and two of the others. They watch as Yousuf leans over and licks first one nipple and then the other. As soon as he is doing it, I love it. His hair is greasy and there are flakes of dandruff. He leaves a trail of spit on my boobs that I can't wait to wipe off. He is disgusting. I imagine the smell of curry is wafting up from his spit. Its gross and hot.

I'm

hot because I like this foul-smelling foreigner licking my titties where people can see us.

Daddy puts his hand at the small of my back, guides me toward the door. He calls over his shoulder, "Ya'll have a good day now." I go to pull down my shirt, but Daddy pushes my hand back down. I walk out into the sunlit parking lot with my tits hanging out, bouncing and jiggling with each step. Daddy ducks his head to me and says low, "I know you be likin' show yourself. I'm just gone give you what you want

all day."

I can see the men in the van laughing.

It is just before three o'clock. The sun shines down on my naked tits, and there are plenty of people to see. There is a busy car wash across the street. Two brownish women who are probably actual whores (as opposed to me, I don't even get paid for what I do) sit on the guard rail that surrounds the motel parking lot. Cars whiz by. A foursome of young men roll dice on the sidewalk. I don't know who all sees my tits. I am too ashamed of being paraded in the daylight like this to look anyone in the face. There are whistles, cat calls. I hang my head. And smell curry, and dog.

In the room, I am nervous again. I don't know how this will go. I've never been fucked by more than two men at once. Will they just run a continuous train on me? Will they each want a turn in each hole? I don't know what to expect.

Well. I

kind of

know what to expect. Ray-Ray's messages have been explicit. That night in the van with him and Daddy, it was nasty, but other than drinking piss, it was just good basic sucking and assfucking.

In some of his messages, Ray-Ray spends a lot more time talking about how dirty I am than about what he wants to do to me. Its why I wanted to see him again. I know that I can expect rough treatment, name calling. He has called me every degrading word for a person with a cunt that I've ever heard. He calls me 'fuckhole' a lot. As if that's my name.

Hey, Fuckhole, I been thinkin' 'bout what you looked like tryin' to swallow all my piss. I was pissin' all over your face on purpose. You know that? I be pissin' all over you. I hate a white bitch, a stuck-up white ho that think she better than a motherfucker. You ain't better than nobody, bitch. I pissed in your mouth, and you drank it, you nasty ho. You ain't better than a motherfucker at all."

Other messages have been more affectionate, if still fucked up and nasty.

You ever thought about putting your tongue in a man's ass, baby? I ain't never had nobody do that. I bet that sho' be feelin' good. I think about you, baby. I think about you lettin' me bend over in your face, and you licking my asshole. You oughtta call me back so we can do that shit. That shit be some nasty shit. You like that nasty shit, don't you, ho? I just wanna give you what you like. Come on, baby, holla back. I'll scrub it real good so it'll be all clean for ya. Just lick it for a minute. Come on. I'll do you if you do me. Don't nobody have to know.