The Ballad of Emily Jeffers Ch. 02

"This here's a long list Lawton," she whispered. "How am I gonna do all them? And this here one was my third grade teacher, Mr. Perchenski. Oh, oh and Matt Watson used to pick on me in school and try to pull up my dress. And these others? I know them all and they're gonna all put their things up in me and shoot their stuff inside a me. Oh Lawton, how come they get to fuck me? Is the church gettin' the money?"

I was at a loss. Matt Watson was finally going to get his wish, which no doubt was to fuck Emily Jeffers. Mr. Perchenski was probably gonna dump the biggest load of his life in his former student, and all the others were just gettin' their first taste of a body they'd all no doubt be fucking regularly for years to come. What could I say? You're a whore, Ms. Jeffers, that's what whores do. They fuck.

But I felt bad, her all naive and confused at what was happening to her. Scared. No friends. Nobody to help her. That was on the one hand. But she was standin' there in that same see-through dress and I could see her pussy juice trickling out, drop by drop off those magnificent cunt lips just hangin' open in front of me. I figured she was already gettin' herself lubed up for her long list of customers. And I was startin' to think Mr. Harper was right, that she was by God's very design, a whore whose only purpose was to bring pleasure to horny men who needed a wet hole to shoot their juice into. Should her wishes and needs in life be taken into consideration? Society, all around me, was saying no. And she was obviously in a state of almost constant arousal herself, just addin' weight to Harper's argument.

She backed up a few steps so I could put the food on the table and we shared it out. She was starving and we wolfed those burgers down without comment. I could tell she savored the cheeseburger the way she closed her eyes and kind of put her head back as she chewed.

"Thanks Lawton," she said between bites.

It struck me that more than anything she was alone and lonely. In fact when I re-examined everything, I realized she'd been alone even when she was with that alcoholic husband of hers. She was starving, not for food, but for human contact. And I also realized that the kind of human contact she was going to be getting was a hard and uncaring kind. I felt a weight of guilt and wished I could do something to comfort her. There was a pureness to her that even Pastor Brown's and Mr. Harper's manipulations wasn't likely to destroy. I hoped not. But she was in for a rough ride.

"Don't thank me, Ms. Jeffers," I managed to croak out. "I done nothin' but get you some lunch. You deserve more but I don't have it to give."

"Sure you do Lawton," she soothed. "You gonna be the one what saves me in the end, I done told you that already. I felt it first time we touched, and when you caught me fallin' down after all them Black boys finished with me I felt it even stronger. Not today, maybe, nor tomorrow, but some day."

It was a strange thing to say, but it was a strange day in a strange week.

"You best get yourself ready for those boys, Ms. Jeffers," I said. "I'll be home again before they get here, so I'll keep an eye on things, just in case you need me."

"You're aweful nice, Lawton," she said. "I wish it was just you and me. I wish I wasn't a whore like they say I am. I could be something else, couldn't I Lawton?"

"Ah, well, I don't know Ms. Jeffers," I allowed. "Pastor Brown and lots of other folk kinda decided that's what you are and what you're best at. They says your body was made for the men folk to use."

"I guess so," she almost whispered. "I ain't much good at anything else I guess. Mama done the same thing, gettin' all them men folk puttin' their thing up inside her. They done tried doin' me too, but Mama wasn't havin' none of that."

Then she had a stricken look.

"I bet Mama don't know I'm a whore yet," she said, tears brimmin' on her lashes. "She always wanted me to be a good girl. Guess I let her down pretty good takin' big Black cocks now. She never done that."

I cleaned up the paper plates and found the trash under the sink. The church ladies had put a little bucket in there with a bag inside. I was standin' there by the door ready to leave, not knowin' what else to say, when she came up to me a slid her hands in under my arms and around my back and pulled me close. Real gentle like. Her body was warm and soft, and her breasts pushed against me. And it wasn't a sexual moment at all. She leaned her head in on my neck and shoulder and just held on. And I found my arms around her and rocked her back and forth.

"I'm sorry," I whispered in her ear.

"It's okay," she looked up at me. "Just come back and look in on me. Then it'll be time for them white boys to start doin' me."

"Sure, Ms. Jeffers," I croaked. "Sure I will."

But I didn't. I got caught up in stuff at work, stayed late at Owens and didn't get home until they were pretty much finished usin' her. I heard the last guy grunt, huff, and slam into her a final time as she took her ninth cock of the evening and God knows how many loads of sperm in her swollen and stretched out fuck hole. When the guy didn't seem to be leavin' her place, I went up and chased him out as he was tryin' to get her to suck him hard again. He was already a half hour past his time and Ms. Jeffers looked in rough shape, all naked and covered in hickies, cum, and sweat.

It was pretty much a repeat of the night before. She was sittin' on a kitchen chair, leakin' cum out of her loose hole. I could practically see up inside her, they reemed her out so hard. And the place smelled like her twat juice and sweat mixed all up with the cock spit. She was leaned over on the table, resting on her arms with her head down. That beautiful yellow hair was matted and wild looking, and her face was all flushed. I'd seen she had a split on her top lip, and the insides of her thighs were a sheen of leaked out juices clear to her knees.

"They wouldn't stop Lawton," she whispered. "They kept doin' me. Mr. Perchenski done finished first, but when Matt showed up he never left and they were in me from both ends, pumpin' into my pussy and mouth at the same time. When they shot their loads in me, they done switched up and I had to suck on them to get them back up, but they put more of their man milk in me."

She was sort of mumbling into her arms, as she recounted the evening. She seemed resigned more than anything. She wasn't upset, really. Just very tired and sore. From what I understood, those two left when the third guy showed up, but by then she had five loads of cum in her pussy and stomach. Over the next four hours, it was like a continuous two on one as guys rotated in and out of her fuck holes.

"I'm so tired Lawton," she said. "I used up all my energy cumin' on them cocks. I can't seem to control my pussy none. It keeps wantin' them big, fat sausages even once my head says no. It's the cumin' that's made me tired Lawton. Not the fuckin'."

I ran a bath for her just like the night before. She soaked while I made an omlette, toast, and a rasher of bacon. Again, she sat there naked as she ate. Her skin was all red from the hot water, but you could still see the darker red marks and her outer lips were still all puffed up and her inner lips hung open like she was expectin' more, her clit swollen and pushed out from its little hood like it was going to explode. Her hand ocassionally found its way down and she touched herself, giving herself a little jolt just from the contact with her finger tips.

"I can't stop feeling it, Lawton," she said. "My woman parts are just tingling and get all worked up all the time all on their own. I don't even have to touch my pussy none anymore. It just feels like it's bein' felt up all the time. I guess all them people are right, I'm a whore. I didn't know till I just figured it out now. My head's tellin' me one thing but my pussy's sayin' different."

I cleaned up the dishes off the table and Ms. Jeffers was revived enough to lay down on the sofa, knees up, legs spread. Her big, bullet-like nipples were rock hard, and her tits moved up and down with her breathin. She had no idea what her stunningly amazing body did to people. And I understood why those men that night didn't want to leave and took turn after turn stuffin' their meat inside her wet, warm, and welcoming body.

"At least I know, Lawton," she said. "So I'll just do like they tell me with all them Black boys and them white men that banker sends around. Mr. Perchenski done told me everybody just goes to Mr. Harper's bank and gives in the money and the teller takes their names and sends them here at some time on a schedule."

I knew how it worked. And I'd seen the schedule before I'd left work that day. Ms. Jeffers was booked up the next week solid, and not just for those three or four days a week she'd been told at the start. She was gettin' fucked pretty much every evening in half hour increments for the next seven days with a spatterin' of time slots filled up in the week after.

"Lawton? Will you lay down with me on that bed in there'til I fall asleep? I done been with nine men tonight but I feel like I'm all alone. Just hold me a bit and I'll just pretend like we're real lovers and we care about eachother."

I'd already cleaned up the bedroom, so there were new sheets and a quilt. She slid off the sofa and I helped her up, half carrying her into the bedroom. Her nipples were long and hard and they brushed across my arm as we made our way to the bed where I lay her down, my hands inadvertantly making contact with her body in several still sensative intimate places, producing little gasps and a moan from Ms. Jeffers as her head and that halo of golden hair sank into a fluffed up pillow. She truly looked angelic.

"Hold me to sleep," she said, so low I could hardly hear. "Take off them clothes and hold me to sleep Lawton. You don't have to fuck me, but I'd sure like to be held, like I was worth somethin'."

I had such a big lump in my throat I couldn't say a word. It didn't seem right or fair that one of the most beautiful creatures God put on the planet felt she was worthless. That her only value was her pussy, tits, and mouth. And soon, I knew, they'd start puttin' their cocks up her bum hole to exact the full potential of her. And at that point I didn't have any idea about the other things they'd soon be doin' to her. Some of it I won't even tell you boys about 'cause it's filthy, degrading stuff never should of happened.

At that point Jack got up and headed to the bar to talk to Andi. She nodded and fetched a pitcher and filled it up with some of that cold draft beer Owens always has on tap. Jack slapped some bills down on the bar but Andi just pushed them away and shook her head. She never looked my way.

Jack brought down the pitcher and I poured a glass. I'd ordered the grilled cheese and a big bowl of  tomato soup and Jack grabbed the empty plate and bowl and cutlery and put them on that little Dutch door goin' into the kitchen.

The beer was nice and cold and crisp. Jack said it was from one of those new craft breweries they've been settin' up all over the place. Owens always had great draft, but this was premium stuff. I took a long drink, mostly to give me time to think up what to say next. Then I remembered how Emily had hid that little teddy bear under her pillow and how she clung to it every night while she slept.

She was no kid. That night she'd turned 27 just a few weeks before. She was laid down facin' the side of the bed toward the door where I'd put her. I stripped down to my boxers and crawled in so I was in behind her on my side, sort of spoonin' but not touchin'. If she'da been lookin' she'da seen I was hard as a rock tentin' out those boxers like it was a boyscout jamboree.

"You can pull up behind me," she whispered. "Just hold me tight."

She was soft and warm and smelled like soap and shampoo and girl. I lifted her up and slid my left arm in under her just below her firm tits, and put my right arm around her just above her waist, and gently hugged her in.

It had been a long day, and a long night. Ms. Jeffers was dead tired and I heard her heavy breathing within a few minutes. But I couldn't sleep. Not with my rock hard cock pushed up against her naked ass -- despite the boxers. I lay in agony and eventually had to gently slide away from her and off the bed. Went down to my own place and even then I couldn't sleep. Two beers tired me a little, but I couldn't get the vision of her well-fucked body out of my head. And the two beers enboldened me. So I went back up to her bedroom and this time rolled her onto her back and spread her thighs enough to have access into her body. Even in her sleep she was wet, and her mound was still puffed and swollen.

Thing is, I'd been with her for two days now, her body naked and used most of that time. Her fuck juices leaking out of her. Sperm by the gallon trickling from inside her. The smell of her body and its secretions were driving me half crazy.

She told me I could have her and use her any time I wanted. Old Mister Harper said she was mine as long as I looked after her. Like she was a possession that I might have some fun with -- like a car, or a nice boat. And tippin' back my third beer, I dropped the boxers and slowly slid my aching rod into her whore cunt. That's the way I had to think of her -- as a whore. Otherwise I couldn't of done her that first time.

Her moans started coming as I slowly slid in and out of her incredible hole, all wet with her slippery arousal fluids, and warm and velvety. I lowered myself so her large, firm tits pressed against my chest, and her hardening nipples dug into me as a reminder that this creature was meant to be fucked, bred, produce offspring, and then become a source of nurishment as milk flowed through those bullet-hard nubs and into the mouths of babes -- and of course into the eager, sucking mouths of men whose only intent was to repeat the entire cycle with their jizz in her fertile cunt.

After a moment, Ms. Jeffers was moaning louder and now moving her hips slightly to affect better and deeper friction of my rock-hard shaft against her sensitive pussy walls as it slid almost eight inches into her body. And then her arms were around my neck and her spread legs circled around my back and held me in place as she started a slow, deep, hard rhythm. I could  feel her aroused and engorged clit above the base of my cock every time I bottomed out in her, and she gave a tiny squeal everytime I pounded against it.

Suddenly I found we were kissing deeply, our tongues dancing and intertwining, and me realizing and thinking that her mouth had sucked nine different cocks just hours before, and some of those men had flooded her oral orifice with their loads of ball juice. And that made me all the more conscious of the fact that the pussy I was plundering had been used by just as many cocks, and that cervix that my cock head was hitting had been pummeled relentlessly for hours that day.

And she was still horny.

I increased my pace slightly, hitting faster and harder, eliciting louder moans and cries, and a frenzied hip motion under me as she thrust up to meet my downward strokes. Her juices now flowed freely around my cock, coating my pubic hair and thighs, and running in streams down her inner thighs and ass to soak the clean sheets.

"Ohhhh Lawton," she cried. "Ohhh that's sooooo good. Fuck me hard Lawton," she breathed. The smell of her secreations was almost overpowering. The mucus from her cervical glands was wet and slippery, just what sperm like to swim in, and her plentiful cock lubricant was like a river that was ensuring those sperm were launched on their journey up inside her. And no doubt there were millions upon millons of those swimmers inside her now, the effluent of many men who had paid to dump inside her -- Black, White, Asian.

I fucked her hard, and she fucked back. Her climax approaching as her cunt squeezed, gripped, sucked, and clamped on my cock. Her face turned red, and the arteries on her temple and neck bulged. Her breathing was shallow, and her moans and grunts were now gutteral and animal-like as she devolved to her true animal self. And then it hit just as I slammed hard against her clit. She bucked, arched her back, and flung her hips up like she was possessed. And she screamed and wailed as she rode an orgasm that must have lasted three minutes and sprung a torrent of juices from her loose cunt as I pulled almost out of her sensitive hole, my cock head just slightly inside her.

When she finally rode through to the other side, I slid back in and within 30 seconds launched my swimmers into her body. Her whore body. Her cum respticle. It was like being in heaven. It was like nothing before. It was a pale, white body shaped like a goddess but used like a whore. I thought of my load of sperm now way up inside her. At least a dozen others had done the same in the past 36 hours, and three times that many would in the next 72. I did it once more that night, from behind, as I mashed her face into the pillow and pistoned in and out of her for another half hour until my balls emptied into her.

Post-fucking clarity consumed me for a few minutes, and I felt guilt for using her body like she was a whore. But looking down at her as she slid down on the bed, fresh from her final body-wrenching orgasm, my lust for her returned and I knew I was hooked on her. I was addicted to her body so quickly it scared me. And that's how I thought of it -- an incredible addiction. And the subject of my addiction had been offered to me by Emily Jeffers twice, at least, and by Mr. Harper who in an almost literal sense owned her body and controlled everything that was done with it and to it.

She rolled over, legs spread, body used and spent and slick with sweat and cum and cunt juice. The sheets were soaked, and I knew she had squirted at least once. Her eyes were glazed, as if she wasn't seeing. But a tiny smile appeared and finally she was able to focus up at me.

"You can be my lover Law," she whispered. "I'll be your lover. We can pretend I'm not a whore. We can pretend I work at the Five and Dime and we can be pretend husband and wife. Can we Law?"

There were tears now, but they weren't hers. I was choked up and couldn't have uttered a sound even if there wasn't a giant lump in my throat. I just nodded as a tear slid down my cheek and landed on her belly.

I lay down and held her to sleep, not knowing that Pastor Brown was organizing the annual church picnic and carnival fundraiser with a twist, and Old Mister Harper was helping out by working up a plan that had Ms. Jeffers as a carnival ride. Or as he liked to say, Ms. Jeffers the Carnal Ride. I found out about it the next day when Mr. Harper asked me to set it up.