Dressed for Panic

"After Austin took a baseball bat to Jason's head, I felt I had no choice. I was scared for my life, especially when Zeke menaced me with his huge knife. I could not stop seeing Jason's blank eyes staring out. I was terrified."

"Having only Zeke do me seemed like a small victory. Mom, was it rape?" I asked. "I mean, I did it willingly, but I am sure that I had no choice. Is that rape? Is that what non-consent is? Or am I just a slut?" I was crying as I said this.

My mother confirmed what I already knew, but had to hear from her. Yes, it was rape. Fucking under the threat of physical harm or death, even if you willingly fuck, is still rape.

"The understanding of rape has evolved from when your grandmother was young," my mother said. "By today's definition, she was raped. She told me about it when I was your age. I too was date raped. We just never spoke of it back then."

"Lots of women are raped. Men are animals. Luckily for me, I found your Dad. Such men as your Dad are rare, but you'll find one, I'm sure. Patience, babydoll, your time will come."

Within a week my parents had our house on the market and they moved to the city where my Dad worked. My Mom quickly found a new job as a nurse practitioner in the city, and they joined a Unitarian Church where other mixed race couples were honored members.

Meanwhile, I returned to college. I was now frigid. No boy could get near me, including my shameful lover Mike. Without sex, Mike lost interest in me. Sex was the only thing that was keeping us together, anyway.

I was miserable, alone, and doing nothing but classwork. Susan had betrayed me, and my best friend Sarah was my only remaining friend. I told her what happened with Jason, after he saw the tape. Susan had lost her cousin. It was not her fault, but it would not have happened if she had not sent the tape to the dear, departed Jason.

Susan felt terrible. She was devastated over her role in her cousin's death. I tried to comfort her, explaining how Jason changed his mind and tried to rescue me, and I guess it helped, but not enough.

She knew she had been evil by secretly making that video and widely distributing it. She thought God was punishing her. Maybe God was; I don't believe in God, but Susan sure does. She spiraled down into a deep depression, and she withdrew into herself.

Sarah, the other victim of spreading the video, had no sympathy for Susan at all. Susan was dead to her. For me, Susan had made a mistake, and it had unforeseen tragic consequences. Susan would never have thought her own cousin would have planned a gangbang.

I never told Susan the boys did it because I was black. When they saw the video, if I had been white, they could have thought I was 'wild,' or at worst, a 'shameless slut.' Because however I'm black, I became a disposable cunt. Emphasis on the 'disposable' part. Susan probably did not foresee that.

But enough of Susan and that whole sordid episode. Valentine's Day loomed. I could feel the panic building, once again. Even if I was frigid, I felt that I needed a date. I was not going to go online to one of those sites. I was not going to go to a fraternity party and be the only black girl there. I was still too young to go to a bar.

I got drunk. I went to the library. I went to one of the quiet rooms, where people study but cannot talk. It was Friday evening at 6pm. The library closes on Fridays at 7pm, so there was only one hour left.

I brought my organic chemistry book and began to study. The library was a bit overheated as it often is in the winter, so I thought WTF and I removed my seater and I studied in my bra.

A student came in, carrying his math book. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me. Actually, he stared at my bra, and therefore at my boobs. "Are you okay, Miss?" he asked.

"I'm Harriet," I said.

"Stan here," he said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I stood up. "I was overheated." I saw the way he was looking at me. I made a snap decision and I said, "I'll remove my skirt too for you if you agree to take me out on Valentine's Day."

"Sure," Stan said. "It will be a pleasure. Harriet, you are gorgeous."

"Thank you, Stan," I said, and I removed my skirt and stood before him in my bra and panties. "Shall we seal it with a kiss?"

Stan was still in a state of shock, so I moved over to him, put my arms around his neck, and gave him a sexy and a rather long lasting kiss. He recovered a bit during the kiss, and he ran his hands all over my naked backside, paying particular attention to my ass. He slipped his hands under my panties and caressed my bare ass. I let him do it.

"Are you Sexpot Texas Holdem Harriett?" he asked. My heart sank. Just how widespread was this cursed video?

"Guilty," I said. "Does that change things? Do you still want to go out on Valentine's Day?"

"Yes, all the more so! But also, how about tonight? It's Friday night. May I take you to dinner? Or a movie, perhaps?"

We went to the movies. After the movie, he took me to his place, which was an off-campus house he shared with three other guys. They were all out getting drunk, and he did not expect them back until the bars closed at 2am.

"My roommates would love to meet you. We've all seen the video dozens of times. Would you stay until then?"

"How charming," I said sarcastically. "Yes, I'll stay." That gave us four hours to kill. "How shall we spend the time until 2am?"

Stan had an idea. It involved me getting naked again, him getting naked, him getting on top of me, spreading my legs, and then seeing what happened.

He explained it all to me in great detail. It was hard for me not to laugh. I realized that in fact I had not laughed since that fateful night in my hometown with Jason, Zeke, Austin and Larry.

"I don't fuck on the first date, Stan," I said.

"What about the second then? Are you free tomorrow night?" Stan said.

"Yes, I'm free. I don't fuck on the second date either. Still want to take me out?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "What about the third date?"

"Persistent little devil, aren't you?" I answered.

Stan smiled. "I've wanted to take you to bed ever since I saw that video. So does every guy I know, including my three roommates. I can't believe my luck that I've met you. You have great underwear, by the way."

I was getting grossed out. But I was desperate. I said, "I'll fuck you on Valentine's Day, Stan, and not before. But then I'll fuck spectacularly, and you can quench your fetish. I will be yours on that night, and that night only, and you can do with me as you please. Total submission. Okay?"

That was a foolish thing to say, but even saying it just then turned me on: the idea of total submission always seems to turn me on. It seemed to turn on Stan too. His cock was hard underneath his pants; it was obvious.

Stan agreed. We kissed, he got me down to my bra and panties again, and he pushed aside my panties and fingered me until I came. The next night I gave him a blowjob, and he was happy.

A couple of weeks later Valentine's Day rolled around. By this time Stan and I had done just about everything possible short of fucking. I had even let him ass fuck me once.

I still had not yet met his roommates, and after he took me to a wonderfully romantic dinner, he took me back to his place to meet them. On the way over, he reminded me that I had said I was his to do with as he pleased. "You said total submission. Do you remember?"

"Vividly," I said, getting aroused just thinking about submitting myself to his every desire. "What do you have in mind?" I was getting wet just talking about it.

"I want to fuck you and then I want to watch my three roommates fuck you," he said.

"What?!!" I screamed. "What is it with you men?? Why would you want me to do such a horrible thing? You and I have not even ourselves fucked yet! What is wrong with you?"

Stan remained calm in the face of my hysteria. "You said total submission. I'm taking you at your word. And I'm being honest about it. Up front."

"That you are," I said, in a calm but measured voice. "I have to admit you are within the bounds of the agreement. I am now breaking the agreement. I misjudged you, Stan. I thought you liked me. But now I realize I'm just a sex object to you, something to show off and to share with your friends. I'm not a woman to you. I'm just a cunt."

"This is not how I want to be viewed. Your dull Neanderthal mind can wrest with those concepts, but while it does, I will be back at my place, crying. Take me home now, please."

Stan was devastated. It was clear he had been waiting with baited breath to fuck me on Valentine's Day. I could see it in his face. Anyone could have seen it in his face. Now he had blown it and he was crushed. I began to feel sorry for him. So far he had shown me a great time.

Speaking in a sweet tone of voice, a stark contrast to the fierceness with which I had expressed outrage minutes earlier, I said, "You've promised my sexual favors to your roommates, haven't you?"

He nodded, his face red with shame. "You cannot promise something like that without first checking with the woman involved. This is not rocket science."

Stan nodded shamelessly again.

"How about at least you and I make love, and then we'll see how I feel about things after you've ravished me, okay?" I said, trying to mollify him. I knew my position would be unchanged, but I was horny, and I really did want to have sex on Valentine's Day. It was important to me. Earlier I had felt my frigidity melting away.

This was just too reminiscent of my date with Jason, which ended with Jason getting brutally killed right in front of me, and me avoiding a gang rape by manipulating Zeke into being the only one to have nonconsensual sex with me. This was not something I wanted to repeat!

I did not know which had scarred me more: Watching Jason's head get bashed in with a baseball bat, or my forced sex with Zeke, or the terror of the entire situation. This was something I did not have to figure out. The whole thing was a nightmare. Let it go at that, I wisely told myself.

I forced myself to focus on the present. I was with Stan. I found him sexy. I let him take me back to his place. He took me to his bedroom, and I made sure the door to his bedroom was closed.

The lock was broken, but at least it was closed. His roommates were not there, thank goodness. We got on his bed and began to kiss. He undressed me, rapidly reducing me to my bra and panties, and then to just my panties.

He pawed at my boobs, tweaking my nipples, and squeezing my boobs. Mike's technique had been much better. He stood, and rapidly undressed himself, becoming naked before me with a nice, straight erection. I began to fondle it with my hands. He groaned. I tasted his cock with my mouth and he groaned some more. I began to wonder just how much sexual experience he had?

I found out later, when I finally was set again, and I lay down and spread my legs. He got on top but his cock could not find my entrance. As I had done for Zeke, I gently grabbed his throbbing cock and guided it in. This was his first time. He did not even last the 30 seconds Zeke had lasted. Mike had truly spoiled me.

I needed a good fuck. I did not just want one. I needed one. This was Valentine's Day, God damn it, and I needed to get royally fucked. I fondled him and then sucked him, using all of my tricks, until I got him hard again. "Let's try this again, lover," I said.

The second time Stan lasted a good long time. But he was a lousy fuck. In and out, in and out, he had no imagination. He was clearly thrilled, but I was non-plussed. It was pleasurable for me, but barely, and not at all satisfying. Well, you win some and you lose some.

Just as I had come to terms with having an unsatisfactory Valentine's Day fuck, and was getting dressed, Stan's roommates stumbled through the front door, all of them drunk. They had one girl with them, a girl named Michelle, and she too was drunk. She was a looker.

Michelle's blouse was in disarray, and her lipstick was smeared. She had milk chocolate colored skin, like me. I figured she was Indian or Pakistani or something. I had seen her once or twice at our college, but I had never really paid much attention.

One of Stan's roommates got on the couch with Michelle and began kissing her. Stan told me he was Troy. "Really, I said? Someone is really named Troy?"

"Hey, lady," Stan said. "You're named Harriet. You should talk." Stan had that special smile men get once they've been laid.

Troy got Michelle's blouse off, and she slurred her words, saying, "Not here in front of everyone. Let's go to your room." Troy ignored her. He kept kissing her right there on the couch, and she seemed to forget her request for privacy, as he removed first her bra, then her skirt. She had a lovely body.

Troy began to finger her, sticking his hand down her panties. Michelle began to groan. The other two guys, John and Jim, were enjoying looking at her body, especially as it began to writhe around in sexual pleasure. I looked at Stan and he was enjoying the view, too.

I felt a hand on my ass, and I assumed it was Stan's. It felt nice. It went up under my skirt, and suddenly I noticed both of Stan's hands were in front of me as he began to paw at my breasts. I turned my head and the hand up my skirt belonged to Jim. John came over to me and began to kiss me. He gave nice kisses.

Jim's hands were getting quite fresh, poking at my panties and pushing my panties inside me. Jim unzipped my skirt and it fell to the floor. Stan had pushed my blouse above my boobs. I tried to push John away, the first step to stopping all this. Once my mouth was free I said, "Stop it, all of you!"

Surprised, they actually did stop. I was now standing there in only my bra and panties, and actually I was highly aroused. I was glaring at them when moans from Michelle distracted me. She was now naked and Troy was giving her a royal fucking. Troy was good, I could tell. She was getting the fuck I needed. Damn my luck!

As I stared at them going at it, wishing it were me under Troy just then, the three men resumed their sexual attack on me. In minutes I was naked before all three of them. "I can't do this, boys." They did not stop. "I said I can't do this, are you deaf?"

"Quite deaf," Jim said. "You seem to be enjoying it."

He was right. I was thoroughly wet, and already breathing unevenly, just at the thought of doing John and Jim. I had no desire to do Stan again. After all, we had already fucked twice.

"Just you and John. Stan, you go to Michelle," I said, astonished to hear my words as I spoke them.

That seemed like a good idea to Stan, and he went to Michelle, waving his erect cock near her mouth, and she took the hint and let it go right into her mouth as Troy pounded away above her. Her boobs were swaying underneath her, as Troy had her on all fours. Stan began to paw her breasts as she sucked him. It was quite something to see.

"One at a time, boys," I said. "Jim, you're first. I'm sloppy already from Stan, you know."

Jim said, as he climbed on top of me, "I'll fuck a woman as fine as you under any circumstances. I've wanted to take you for so long, Harriet. I can't tell you how many times I've...."

I shut him up with my hand over his mouth as I gasped when he entered me. I was fucking two men in one evening for the first time in my life. I was entering serious slut territory. I also knew they would tell the world about it, and there would be no escape from my little internecine college community. I would be branded as an easy slut.

Right then it seemed like that is exactly what I was: An easy slut. It being Valentine's Day would explain nothing to anyone, even if it explained everything, somehow, to me.

In contrast to Stan, Jim knew how to fuck a girl. He mixed it up: nailing me to the mattress, then gently screwing me, then withdrawing and plunging in with all of his force. I rewarded him with a symphony of groans, grunts, gasps and most of all loud moans. I guess Stan had already shot his load; Michelle must have been one hell of a cocksucker. I realized this when I heard Michelle moan loudly.

I became vaguely aware that the moans of Michelle and I had synced up. Moreover we had a harmony of thirds. We sounded like a female Simon and Garfunkel, but without words, only sexual moans of pleasure.

Michelle stopped moaning and let out a small scream when Troy finally shot his load into her. Then I heard her say, "Ah." Then she said, "Oh no, I can't handle another...." And I looked over as Jim pounded me, to see Stan entering her swollen pussy, ignoring whatever she wanted. What an ass. Michelle stopped moaning or making any noise at all. I knew just how she felt. Now all the moans were strictly from me. I missed the company of Michelle's moans.

Stan did not last long and spilled his load inside Michelle while Jim was still pumping away at me and I was loving it. By the time he exploded deep inside me, adding his cum to that of Stan's, I was a mess. But I was a sweaty and well satisfied mess. I had not cum, but I had truly been pleasured, and I was happy.

I had forgotten about John. Shit. He picked me up and put me on all fours. He took me doggy style. I was incredulous: I was letting a third man fuck me this Valentine's day. Holy Shit! I was not just an easy slut, I was an easy slut squared. Or cubed. Or raised to the fourth power.

John was no Jim, however. He just pumped in and out of me repeatedly until he finally shot his load into my now saturated cunt.

I fell onto my face on the bed, exhausted and well used. Another Valentine's Day and still I had not cum. I missed the racist Mike. I felt myself being picked up and carried off. I looked up and it was Troy, the man who had driven Michelle to the pinnacle of ecstasy. Michelle had endured Stan, and now she was half heartedly trying to fend off Jim and John as Troy carried me into his bedroom, slamming the door.

Troy sat me down in a chair, cum oozing out of my cunt and soiling the chair. "Can I get you a drink, pretty lady?" he said. I felt strange sitting there naked in front of him, a man I did not know.

But then, I had just fucked two men I did not know at all. Sitting naked in front of yet another man seemed pretty trivial compared to fucking.

"Water would be great," I said. "Thank you. I'm Harriet, by the way."

"It's a pleasure, Harriett," Troy said. "I'm Troy. Would you like the water freshened up with a little bourbon?"

"Sure," I said, "If it's not too much trouble, that is."

"Coming right up," he said, and he gave me a gentle and stunningly sweet kiss on my lips as he went to get the drink. As he opened the door I heard the moans of Michelle, and I figured Jim was now her third man of the night. Poor girl. We would be the Valentine Day Sluts of our college. It would be something to add to my Sexpot Texas Holdem resume. I was doomed.

Troy returned, accompanied by the sounds of Michelle moaning in the background. "Michelle is really getting the treatment tonight," I said. "Have you known her long?"

"All my life," Troy said.

"Please tell me she is not your sister, Troy."

Troy replied, "She is not my sister."

"For real?"

"Yes," Troy said. "She's the girl next door. Literally, not figuratively. We've been recreationally fucking ever since she turned 18. I can't get enough of her. Fortunately, she feels the same way."

"How do you explain tonight?" I asked.

"Michelle wanted to experience some other men, besides just me. The Valentine's Day gangbang was her idea. Especially after she heard you were up for a gangbang, too."

"Stan lied to you about that. This gangbang was a surprise to me. Not a particularly welcome one, either. I must say, however, that I was jealous as all hell of Michelle when I saw her reaction to you just now when you were, you know, uh...