Susan screamed, an echoing, haunting scream of unspeakable agony. Jimmy's cock had only gone in her bung a few inches, but its knob had stretched her asshole wide. Getting fucked up the ass hurt any woman, at least for the first minute or two, even if the man were gentle and even if he lubricated her asshole with saliva, cunt-juice, or some store-bought lubricant. Nothing could be more painful than to be fucked up the ass the way Susan was getting it, hard cock against raw, virgin flesh.
Susan tried to squirm away, but Jimmy had dropped his hands to her thighs again and he held her in place. Susan continued to scream, but her efforts to get away became less determined.
Jimmy wasn't gentle at all. While Susan tried to resist, he pulled his cock all the way out and slammed it into her asshole again, even harder than before. This time his dong went in her butt a half-inch more than the time before.
Susan screamed even louder. Tears dripped down her face and she bit her lip, as if she wanted to stifle her cries of pain. I could see her muscles tensing occasionally as she tried to get away, but, as she realized the hopelessness of that, she ceased struggling.
Jimmy kept ramming his cock in and out of her asshole until it was almost balls deep inside her guts. Susan's screams got weaker, but she still let out a yelp each time his dick penetrated her raw slitter. The pain must have been excruciating.
Usually, when a woman gets fucked up the ass, pleasure eventually takes over from pain. In Susan's case, however, I thought that would be impossible. Jimmy's prick had to have scraped her small asshole so raw that she could not have felt pleasure at any point.
Either Susan was a girl who enjoyed suffering or she was putting on a good act for Jimmy, but, all of a sudden, she stopped screaming and started to beg for more.
"Jimmy, that feels good. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" she yelled.
Susan didn't seem in pain any more. In fact, she smiled happily, as if this was the most enjoyable fuck she had ever received. I couldn't believe it! From agony to enjoyment in a few minutes – it just didn't make sense.
I think Jimmy was a little surprised, too. He started fucking her ass harder immediately, giving her what she had asked him for. He fucked her asshole as hard as he could and as fast as he could and somehow Susan withstood it and managed to revel in the pain or the pleasure or whatever mixture of those two that she felt.
Jimmy let her have his load of jizz. He pushed his pulsing cock deeply inside her bowels and stayed there. His face lost its hostility for a moment and a tranquil expression gradually spread over it. I could see some of his sperm overflowing, dripping out of Susan's asshole and down her thighs.
I expected Jimmy to pull his cock out, but he didn't. Showing remarkable staying power and probably excessive cruelty, he left his cock inside Susan's ass. The he reached down underneath her and fingered her cunt.
"Ohhhh, Jimmy. That's it. Keep that up and I'll come," Susan moaned. She showed no desire to eject his cock from her ass.
Jimmy kept it up, but not long enough for Susan to come. He waited until she was at the brink, her muscles starting to tremble, her cunt getting wetter and wetter. Then, in one convulsive movement, he ripped his cock out of her asshole.
Earlier, Susan might have been able to ignore the pain, but she couldn't do that now. She screamed as loudly as she had screamed when Jimmy had first shoved his cock into her virgin asshole.
Jimmy's cock was out of her now and he got to his feet while she lay slumped on the floor. His erect cock bore mute testimony to the torment he had inflicted on her. The globs of sperm on his cock and the shaft itself were both flecked with blood.
I stood motionless and so did everyone else. She had seemed to enjoy that brutal ass-fucking so much that we all felt as if she deserved the final pain she had suffered. I felt an impulse to help her, to comfort her, but I held back. After all, she had involved herself with Jimmy at least partly to torture Mike and me, to teach us a very harsh lesson. We had suffered as she intended. I knew she was right to teach us about jealousy, but I was still glad to see her suffer, too.
Nothing like this had ever happened before at one of our parties. I expected some sense of outrage from most of the guests, but there was none. Susan's seeming enjoyment of her pain and something inexplicable in the white psyche led to passive acceptance of what Jimmy had done.
I could spot only one angry face – Cynthia's. Her eyes flashed with fire and she had balled up her fists as if she were ready to hit someone. She was a frightening and menacing sight. I expected her to go after Susan, but she went after Jimmy instead. Like a black panther, she stalked across the room after him and, like a big cat, she pounced. She grabbed him by the arm, her nails digging into him.
I expected Jimmy to slap Cynthia or to punch her in the jaw. Instead, he leaned forward and whispered something into her ear. She looked at him with a new fear in her eyes, let go of his arm, and strode out of the room.
Jimmy chuckled and sat down in a chair. He noticed that the rest of us were looking at him. "Hey, let's stop jiving and get this party going," he said, as if nothing had happened.
We stood still for a moment, then one couple started fucking on the couch, their bodies slamming together with monotonous regularity as they tried to fuck away the tension in the air.
After a few minutes, two other couples had begun to fuck in various parts of the room. Usually by this time, two or three men would have been after me, but I guess everyone knew that I was upset about Susan so they left me alone.
Susan lay on the floor, but she had stopped sobbing. The pain long gone, she seemed to be resting, enjoying the post-coital glow that didn't usually follow such a brutal assault. I wanted to talk to her, to blurt out my anger and resentment at the humiliation we had all shared, but I didn't move.
I was too depressed to cheer myself by indulging in the uninhibited fucking and sucking that was occupying most everyone else at the party. I went into the bathroom to have a good cry. I stayed there for about fifteen minutes, crying my eyes out in bitterness and frustration at Susan, at my own jealousy, at her revenge on me for that jealousy.
When I emerged, no one was busy with sex as they had been when I had gone into the bathroom to cry. Instead, everyone had clustered around Cynthia, who was sobbing shrilly.
"He's gone, he's gone! I have no idea where he went!" she said again and again.
I looked around. Jimmy had indeed vanished. A sick feeling hit me in the pit of the stomach. I looked around again although I already knew what I would see. Or wouldn't see. Susan was gone, too. She and Jimmy must have left together.
I found Mike. He was worried and upset and felt a little guilty, too, when I asked him whether he had seen her leave.
"I was so damn mad at what she was doing to us that I decided to fuck someone else and forget about it," Mike said. "I must have been busy screwing when she left with Jimmy. They didn't say a word to anyone – they just vanished."
"I didn't see anything either. I was in there crying," I said, gesturing towards the bathroom as I spoke.
Cynthia was still crying, but the other guests had begun to leave. I saw that in a few moments we would be the only people there. I wasn't sure if we should stay. I felt guilty; after all, we had brought Susan and Susan had been at least partly responsible for this. I figured Cynthia would be angry at us or at least anxious for us to go.
I started to get my purse and leave, but Cynthia stopped me. "No, you two stay, please," she asked.
Her request surprised me, but Mike and I stayed. It was the least we could do. After all, without us, this never would have happened.
When everyone else had left, we talked it all over and tried to figure out where they had gone. Cynthia was as bewildered as we were.
"I don't know what got into him. He likes white people and he hates them, all at the same time. When he saw that young chick, it all boiled up out of him, all that hate and resentment. I don't think he would have gone as far as he did – he's not that mean a dude – but she seemed to like it so much. Oh, shit. I just want him back," said sadly.
"What did he tell you earlier, when you walked over to him all angry and everything and he whispered something in your ear?" Mike asked.
"He told me to shut my fucking mouth or he'd slam his foot through it as soon as everyone left," Cynthia told us. "He can be pretty mean," she added.
"I hope he doesn't beat up Susan," I said. I was worried, but not too worried. I was sure that Jimmy wasn't insane, just resentful of whites and a little irrational. I didn't think he would hurt Susan badly, especially if she did as he asked and, so far, she had done just that. I did hope, however, as Cynthia hoped, that we would get her back.
The three of us sat down to wait. It was a funereal atmosphere.
We must have been an incongruous sight. Three people sitting there unhappily, fidgeting nervously, while two of us were still completely naked. I had never undressed at this party. I had been too caught up in what Jimmy had been doing to Susan. Cynthia and Mike, however, had taken their clothes off, Cynthia before she realized exactly what her husband was doing with Susan, and Mike after he realized what was going on and had decided to try to forget it.
So we sat there through most of the night, hoping, waiting, wishing that they would return. By three in the morning we had lost hope, but some stubbornness that we began to think was mere wishful thinking led us to stay, awake and waiting.
I couldn't help imagining vividly Jimmy fucking Susan again and again until her sweet soft pussy was as raw and bleeding as her ravaged asshole. I wondered if Jimmy would know when to stop or whether, away from the crowd, he would punish her unmercifully and perhaps do permanent damage to her.
I shouldn't have worried. About four a.m. we heard voices outside, then footsteps on the front walk and the door opening. We ran into the front hall.
It was Jimmy and Susan. Jimmy looked embarrassed. He must have fucked away all his hostility, I decided. Susan didn't look embarrassed at all. Nor did she look injured. I wondered if she had enjoyed Jimmy's punishing attacks as much as earlier or whether he had been gentler with her.
Mike and I didn't know what to say, so we didn't say anything. Cynthia didn't know what to say either, so she didn't speak, but she did act. She must have been afraid of Jimmy because she ignored him. Instead, she walked right up to Susan and looked her straight in the eye.
"You mother-fucking honky bitch!" she yelled, after staring wordlessly at Susan for a few uncomfortable seconds. "How dare you run off with my husband!" she added, still screaming.
Susan didn't know what to say, so she tried her innocent smile. "We were only gone for six hours," she said softly. "I didn't run away with him. We just left for a while," she said.
I don't know what effect Susan expected that lame explanation to have, but I think what happened next surprised her. Cynthia drew her hand back and slapped Susan hard across the face. Susan stood there as if in shock while her face reddened, the marks clearly visible where Cynthia's hand had hit her.
I knew this wasn't black hostility against white America. It was a woman fighting another woman who had taken her man. Cynthia had Jimmy back, but she was going to make Susan pay for what she had done. Cynthia knew she couldn't hit Jimmy, so I think she gave Susan some extra punishment to make up for what she wanted to give to her husband.
She slapped Susan again, even harder this time. Susan stood there for a moment, tears welling up in her eyes, a small bruise raising itself on her cheek. Then she slapped Cynthia back, as hard as she could, rocking Cynthia's head back.
"I didn't take him away – he wanted to go. Why don't you hit him?" she asked.
Susan's slap had infuriated Cynthia. She reached out and tried to scratch Susan's eyes with her long fingernails. Susan grabbed her arms and they started wrestling. They fell to the floor with Cynthia on top.
Cynthia reached down and ripped at Susan's dress, tearing it in shreds. She scratched at Susan's now naked flesh, leaving long, ugly-looking red furrows as her nails raked Susan's white skin. Then she reached down to Susan's tits and pinched the nipples hard.
Cynthia was too strong for Susan. She held Susan still while she made her suffer for what she had done. Cynthia went too far, however. She kept squeezing Susan's nipples and the terrible pain gave Susan a burst of adrenaline-induced strength. She reared up off the ground and threw Cynthia off her.
They faced each other like two wary she-cats, circling, eyeing each other. Cynthia had tired herself with the exertion of keeping Susan pinned to the floor while she scratched and pinched her. The pain she suffered had given Susan sudden energy. They were close to evenly matched now.
They moved together, grappling with each other. They hit the floor and rolled, first one on top, then the other. The shreds of Susan's dress had fallen away. They were both naked now, a black body and a white body locked together in what appeared to be a struggle to the death.
Their desire to kill each other wore off as quickly as it had come. As they tired, as it became apparent neither would be able to achieve any real advantage over the other, their struggle became more sporadic. Finally, they separated and lay on the floor, naked and exhausted, only a few inches apart.
At first, I had been worried and anxious watching them fight. I didn't want anyone to get hurt and I wasn't sure that Susan could handle herself. Then, when I saw that the struggle was a fairly equal one, at least in its latter stages, I began to enjoy watching it.
I felt ashamed of myself for finding the sight so erotic. The battle should have dampened all of my sexual desires, but it excited them. The two women were so beautiful. Cynthia's tawny beauty and Susan's voluptuous softness locked together, whether in lovemaking or fighting, had to be one of the most arousing sights I had ever seen! I'm not a fighter, but I wished that I could join them; the pain of fighting would have been worth the pleasure of feeling those two lovely bodies around mine.
The girls lay there motionless for a while. Then Susan stirred first. Her hand reached out and moved into Cynthia's bushy Afro. I felt sure that she would pull Cynthia's hair, try to tear it out of her head. Susan's next move surprised me. She tugged very gently at Cynthia's kinky hair, as if she wanted to pull Cynthia closer to her. I expected Cynthia to resist or to start fighting again, but she didn't. Instead, she moved closer to Susan and laid her head on Susan's thigh. Close together like that, they went to sleep, their violence, as well as their energy, purged from their systems.
Mike, Jimmy, and I watched for a while. Then I nudged Susan, trying to awaken her.
"Susan, we're home," I told her. I couldn't wait to tell her in the privacy of the car that I had learned my lesson. I was sure that Mike had learned, too, that jealousy was counterproductive and could only destroy good relationships.
It was too late. "I'm not going home with you," Susan said sleepily. Then she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.
I awakened her again.
"Look Lori. Fuck off. I told you and Mike and I couldn't stand jealousy. You got more and more jealous. So you blew it. I'm not living with you any longer. I'll come pick up my things tomorrow."
I was crushed. I started crying and pleading with her, but she closed her eyes and, as if I weren't there, went back to sleep.
There was nothing we could do. Mike got dressed and we drove home. Mike was as upset as I, but I was a little cheered to learn that he had realized, too, that jealousy was destructive. So at least it all hadn't been for naught. Still, we were pretty sure we had lost Susan. Our only hope was that she would change her mind.
It took me a long time to get to sleep that night. It was five in the morning and I was already exhausted, but the end of the evening came back to haunt me. I tossed and turned, thinking about Susan and about all that had transpired.
When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed a new variety of the lesbian dream I had been having for weeks. This time, Susan wasn't in the dream. It was the Eurasian woman who had been in the dream when I first had it. The dream had changed, however, from the original dream. Now when I walked towards the woman, she moved farther and farther away. The dream was torture. I awoke in a cold sweat, my heart pounding away, my throat dry. Then I calmed myself and went back to sleep, only to have the dream repeat itself.
I wasn't sure exactly what the dream meant. I knew Susan was probably lost to us, so I wasn't surprised at her absence from the dream. But what did the rest mean? Would I ever again enjoy the tasty flesh of another woman? Should I continue to search for a woman who would provide lesbian and three-way sex for Mike and I? Or was my search hopeless?