                                True Love

                                    by

                              Night Writer



                           IV - The Trailer

It's so hot inside your small, rusting trailer. The air conditioner
works for a while, but keeps breaking down. Erin gives you a number to
call, a handy-man, she calls him. But it takes days for him to show up,
and by then the trailer is an oven every day by noon. When he finally
arrives, he ogles you as though you are a juicy steak and he hasn't
eaten in a week. But who could blame him - you in your little-girl
tube top, not even wide enough to conceal the bottom curves of your
meaty tits, soaked with sweat, nipples showing through the transparent
material as though you're wearing nothing at all. And those tiny white
stretch shorts Erin bought you, covering only half of your ass-cheeks,
and so narrow at the crotch that your pussy-lips keep escaping on both
sides. He's a large man, six foot six, two hundred eighty pounds of raw,
shining, black muscle.

Jerome. Jerome the giant. Your stomach churns every time you see the
huge bulge in his jeans. He isn't too bright, but knows the game he's
been hired to play all too well.

"Ms. Erin says you been eyein' Jerome. Ms. Erin says you know how to
thank a big strong man for helpin' out, for fixin' things, y' know?"

You hate it when he paws you, when he pushes his huge hands under the
tube top and squeezes your tits like he's testing two melons for
ripeness. But you let him. You let him every time. Because she wants
you to. No, not wants, commands it. You oooh and aaah as he drags the
shorts over your hips, then worms two thick fingers inside you. You
know how the game ends - you on your knees, inhaling the tip of his
giant prick into your waiting mouth, sucking, your fingers gently caressing
his balls until you feel his hot, thick cum coat your tongue and roll over
the back of your throat like a slow, rancid river.

The latch on the door is broken, and it hangs open, the bright
afternoon sun shining in on the two of you like a circus spotlight. A
small group of young boys gather outside, pointing and laughing as they
watch you on your knees, sucking the cum out of the black giant. You
cringe, knowing they'll go home with stories, stories that will bring their
redneck fathers and big brothers around for more of the same. But Erin
didn't send them, and when you turn them away with disgust, they hate
you for being the cock-tease that you are.

Their wives hate you too. So many of them, all the same - joyless
baby-factories, consumed with anger and despair, clinging to their bibles
and best-laid plans for futures that never came. You're sure they're just
jealous, bitter that they can't trade their sagging breasts and stretch
marks for your perfect tits and hourglass figure. They call you slut and
whore to your face. Glancing in the mirror reminds you why. The clothes
Erin buys you would shame a hooker. It's almost worse than going naked.
So you stay inside the sweltering trailer during the day to avoid them,
your body drenched with sweat, your skimpy clothing clinging to you like
a second skin.

Last week the woman from the trailer next to yours appeared at your
door. "You have a phone call," she shouted, grinning as she led
you inside her own air-conditioned doublewide. It was Erin. She hadn't let
you have a phone of your own. She said you would be a pest, calling her
whenever you felt the need to whine about one thing or another. Her
voice made your pussy throb, even over the phone. "So, I see you've met
Carla," she had said. "I owe her a favor, so I want you to be very nice
to her, understand? I just know that you and Carla will become very
close friends. In fact, I expect it. You do know what I mean, don't
you, my pet?" You knew exactly what she meant.

Carla stood grinning at you while you listened to Erin's wishes. Broad-
shouldered and square-jawed, she could have easily been mistaken for a
man, except for her enormous breasts that jutted forward under the
ragged t-shirt. From behind she could have been a dock-worker,
her ass so wide and heavy that she lumbered when she walked. You
became close friends alright. She showed up at your door nearly every
night from then on, eager to clench your sweet face between her
bloated, sweaty thighs, eager to have you lap at her foul fuck-hole
until she screamed so loudly the neighbors called the cops.

But tonight she has other ideas. She shows up in black leather pants
and a leather top that pushes her enormous breasts so high they nearly
burst over the top of the low-cut vest. She fastens a thick dog collar
around your neck, then attaches a long leash. "Lets take a walk," she
says. "I want to show off my little pussy-licker." You're wearing denim
cut-offs, and a fishnet crop top with nothing underneath, to try to stay
cool. "Lose the shorts, honey," she demands. You do it, stripping down
to the sweat-soaked black thong underneath. She looks you over,
stopping at your bare feet.

"Put on some shoes. Let's see what you've got."

She follows you to your tiny closet and rummages through the jumble of
shoes piled there.

"Perfect! These should work. Get them on and let's go, before it gets
dark."

She picks the black heels, stilettos, six inches high, a gift from Erin
the night you danced for her dinner guests. Carla loves the look, so
much that she has you kneel and eat her, right there in your crowded
bedroom. She's sloppy-wet tonight, especially excited by the way you so
easily give in to her most perverted whims. When she finally cums, she
leaves your face dripping with her juices, then leads you outside,
pulling you roughly by the leash each time you hesitate.

It doesn't take long for the neighbors to gather, lining the gravel
paths that run between the rows of trailers, then on the paved road
that runs in a circle through the shabby park. You strut along behind
her, hips swaying, the muscles of your thighs and calves flexing atop the
outrageously high heels. You've never been more ashamed, never more
humiliated. Men whistle and make crude comments, their eyes running
the length of your nearly naked body as you prance by. The night air
feels cool on your bare ass cheeks, and your nipples stir and harden,
poking through the tiny holes in the mesh top like pink, rubbery buttons.
Why? Why is your pussy so wet and your breathing so deep and fast?

A young boy, about seventeen, leans against the end of a trailer, his
shirt off, narrow waist and washboard abs flirting with you as you
pass. A young girl stands next to him, leaning against his shoulder.
Her long blonde hair falls past the middle of her back, a minuscule
bikini top failing to hide the firm swell of her large round breasts.
Her hand is at the front of his jeans, giving his erection teasing little
squeezes as it grows larger by the second. When Carla sees her smile,
she stops and leads you over to them.

"Like my pet?" Carla asks, as she reels in the leash, dragging you
close beside her.

The girl is fresh-faced and beautiful - slim, with long, silky-smooth
legs and a healthy tan. She looks up at you with a wicked smile.
You're a head taller, but she sucks every last vestige of pride and
self-respect from you when her blue eyes meet yours. Her smirk
makes you shiver, and you lose your balance, almost falling as the
heel of your shoe sinks suddenly into the soft earth. You try your
best to regain your composure, to find the once regal self-image,
now slipping through your fingers, to, for at least a few seconds,
reclaim the classic, statuesque siren, every bit as smug and superior
as you once saw yourself. But she chases all that away in an instant -
with a single look. And you surrender all of what you were to this trailer
park Lolita as you fidget at the end of your leash.

Her boyfriend is more vocal.

"I'd fuck her," he says. "How much?" He stares at you with small, beady
eyes; his face is a spotty patchwork of brown day-old stubble. You
struggle to keep your eyes off his cock.

"Looks like you're ready," Carla answers. "But she'd never take money.
She likes it too much."

"Cool. Lets go 'round back," he suggests, flashing you a toothy grin.

Carla drags you to a small plot of dirt behind the trailer. The boy
moves a narrow wooden bench from beneath a rotting picnic table to the
middle of the meager yard. The girl, silent until now, circles you,
licking her lips.

"She's so, so, slutty. Will she really do anything we want?"

Carla looks at you, expecting you to answer.

"Well, bitch, answer the young lady. She's so stupid, I have to remind
her to answer sometimes."

You swallow your pride, feel your cunt twitch, then answer, "Yes, I'll
do anything - anything you want."

"Lets see her naked," says the girl, with enough enthusiasm to make you
blush with embarrassment. "Can I take her clothes off?"

"Like she said, anything you want," says Carla.

But the boy is impatient. You can see he's more than ready to fuck you.

"Aww, alright Raylene, but make it fast. I'm 'bout to cum in my jeans!"

She takes her time anyway, pulling the top over your head so slowly,
stripping the tiny thong over your hips, down your legs and over your
heels. She stands back and takes a long look at you, naked, in your
high heels, in their brown-dirt backyard. You're little more than a young
girl's first Barbie doll, undressed by her on a last-minute whim. She
disappears behind you. You feel her hand on your ass.

"Can I do this?" she asks, grinning. She pinches your butt cheek, hard,
and you cry out in surprise.

Carla steps closer to intervene. "Thank the young lady, Babs. Mind your
manners."

The girl bursts out laughing. "Babs? Her name is Babs??? Well Babs,
what d'ya' say?"

She's snickering, waiting for your answer. You hate her, but your pussy
is soaked.

"Thank you, Raylene," you mutter.

She slaps your ass, then again, harder, then again and again, until it's
on fire and red with finger-shaped welts. Again, her sarcastic little
voice demands your response.

"Thank you, Raylene," you manage, between clenched teeth.

She reaches out and takes your nipple between her thumb and finger,
then pinches and twists it cruelly. And she's grinning - still grinning
- waiting for you to thank her again for torturing you, for humiliating
you. And again, you do. You thank her, and your pussy flows for reasons
you can't understand.

"C'mon Raylene! Quit playin' with her and get her over here!"

"Oh, alright Jimmy! Jeez, I can't never have no fun..."

They take you to the wooden picnic bench, put you on your back, and
Carla winds the leash around it, lashing your neck tightly against the
rough wooden planks. The boy has his pants off in no time and you feel
his long, thin cock slide into you quickly, easily - you're so wet.

"Damn, she's wetter than fresh-caught trout! Wet and slimy - just the
way I like 'em!" he hollers, as he plunges into your sopping cunt again
and again.

The girl straddles your face, facing him, and you see her pussy move
lower, closer, until the faint, sweet smell of her reaches you, then
settles on your parted lips. You feel her weight press down onto your
mouth, golden downy pubic hair tickling your chin. You don't have to be
asked, or told. You taste her, parting her pussy-lips slightly with the
tip of your tongue. And she's sweet - so sweet - her wetness spreading
from deep inside over your invading tongue. You penetrate farther, and
then lick, slowly, deliberately, along the length of her swelling slit,
until you hear her moan.

"Oh God, Jimmy, she's doin' it! She's eat'n me - oh Christ she's good!
Sooo good, Jimmy!"

They lean toward each other and kiss, sucking at each other while using
you like some perverse amusement park ride, him plunging into your
soaking hole, her grinding against your mouth while your tongue makes
her gasp and shudder. You can only imagine what you must look like,
naked, tied to the bench, a willing pleasure-toy for two teenage kids.
Is this what Erin wants you to be? How could she? But you don't care
anymore. Anything for Erin. Anything.

The girl cums first, grinding faster and faster, the insides of her
silky thighs clamped so tightly against you that for a while you think
you might suffocate. Her cunt gushes into your open mouth, your tongue
running wildly along the rigid flesh of her sensitive young clit.

But her boyfriend keeps pounding, pounding into your gaping, wet slit.
You fear he may fuck you for hours.

"C'mon Jimmy. Hurry up! Mom 'll be home from work soon. Give it to
her! A big load - put a big load of cum in her, Jimmy - I know you can
- you can do it easy without a rubber - easy!"

You panic when the words sink in. It's been over a month since your
last birth control pill. Erin doesn't give you enough money for such
"luxuries", as she puts it. Why would she want you to take such a
terrible risk? Why would she want to have you filled, unprotected, with
the potent semen of a teenage boy? Could you go this far for her? Could
you give her total and final control of your life? You know the answer.
You no longer have the will to choose.

"It's no use, Raylene. She's just too big and sloppy inside - not like
your tight little pussy. Damn it! I give up! Help me out - jerk me off,
baby. I gotta cum, or my balls are gonna explode!"

He pulls out of you, his young cock still rock hard and glistening with
your juices. Carla comes to the rescue with an idea of her own.

"Turn her over, honey," she says to the boy, with a shit-eating grin.
"Ever ass-fucked an older woman?"

Jimmy brightens with the idea of finding a hole tight enough to get him
off.

"No ma'am. Never have. Raylene, she gets all pissy, says I'll be usin' my
hand fer a long time if I even think about doin' her in the butt."

The girl rolls her eyes and thumps him hard on the arm. "You can be a
real jerk sometimes, Jimmy!" He rubs his arm, glaring at his girlfriend,
puzzled by her reaction. She puts her hands on her hips, exasperated
by his cluelessness. "Well, what are you waiting for? Fuck her in the ass!
Better her than me."

Carla loosens the leash holding you down against the bench and orders
you to turn over. "Pull your knees up - put your ass in the air where
he can get at it, Babs. This boy needs some relief - now!"

You do what she says. Carla forces your cheek against the bench as you
feel the tip of his cock push into you, then slide up into your bowels.
You clench instinctively - once, twice, then the third time, he cums,
grunting and groaning as Raylene palms his balls. Inside, you're
screaming, begging him to stop. When he does, he clings to you,
clutching your hips tightly, buried so deeply inside you. You can feel
each short spasm that racks his body, one, after another, after another,
knowing each one is filling you with more of what seems like an endless
supply of his semen. Your tears wet the surface of the rough wooden
bench. 'A trash receptacle,' you think to yourself. 'I'm a trash receptacle
for trailer trash.' The thought makes you shiver. But your cunt feels so
wet and empty. If only Erin was there to put her mouth on you, to lick
you there just once, to chase away all memory of your sacrifice.

When they're finished with you, you scamper about the dirt lot, find
your clothes, and dress yourself while Carla chats with the happy
couple. They wave as Carla leads you away with a quick jerk of your
leash. "Anytime," she calls back at them. "Babs just can't get enough."

It's dark when she brings you home. You're exhausted and filthy. An
unending trickle of cum runs from the crack of your ass down your bare
legs, a grim reminder of how close you came to taking the young boy's
sperm in your fertile belly. You wait impatiently for it to drain from you
on the long walk back.

It begins to spit rain just as you reach your trailer door. It feels good
on your skin, washing away the dirt and semen that covers you from
head to foot. Carla sees how much you enjoy the refreshing shower,
and stops you before you pull the broken door open to retreat inside.

"You like the rain, honey?"

"I-I guess so," you stammer, still dazed and shaking.

"Well then, enjoy it, bitch. All night."

She ties the leash through a rusted hole in the door and heads for
her trailer.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Erin will be here tomorrow morning at eight.
She thought a night in the rain might be just the thing to clean you
up. If you ask me, there ain't enough rain in all creation to do that."

You sit on your step and cry. The rain comes harder, drenching you,
almost tearing what's left of your clothes from your body. The boy's
cum continues to leak from you, forming a small puddle between
your legs where you sit. You try to think of Erin, and of the time
you'll get to spend with her soon.

You doze off when the rain slows, until a hand shakes you awake. You
look up into the rain and blackness to see a wet, hulking figure
standing over you.

"Jerome need a woman tonight. You be good to Jerome, right? You make
Jerome feel good. Ms. Erin say so. Ms. Erin say you take care of Jerome
any time Jerome's dick need a pretty white woman."

You can smell the liquor on his breath as he runs his large hands over
your shoulders, then down to your breasts, easily ripping the flimsy
top from your weary body. The cum-soaked thong tears away like tissue
paper in his strong hands. You're on the ground before you can answer
him, pressed into the mud by the great mass of his body. You spread
your legs for him and let him enter you. He's so large, so thick, not
like the boy. Not like the boy at all. Your belly swells when he fills
you - stroke, stroke, slow at first, then faster. He's grunting, making
loud, animal noises as he fucks you into the soft mud. You look over to
see faces, everywhere, peering out of windows, through the rain,
watching the whore rut on the swampy ground with her black stud,
listening in the night as he fucks her senseless. The cheap whore in
the rusty trailer. But they all watch and listen, just the same.

You stare into the night and cry, letting him fuck you, giving him what
he wants, what Erin wants. You think of what you were, so long ago you
can barely remember, and what you've become. For Erin, always for Erin.
And your tears, like the rain, fall in torrents, mixing together in the
mud around you as a mountain of hard, black flesh closes in over you
like the night, a night that never ends.

