I Saw When You Gave That Hummer
Table of Contents
I Saw When You Gave That Hummer
A PREVIEW OF WHAT'S TO COME
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The décor of the sunken room brought Judy right back to that fateful night when she and her friends had allowed themselves to be defiled in every way and to defile others in equal measure. The man in the purple suede blazer had gathered eight of his closest comrades and they had formed a tight circle around Gary and Ellen, Roy and Judy.
The man in the purple suede blazer had dropped the needle on an old record from the 1980s—Kim Carnes' Voyeur. Carnes' smoky voice had billowed out of wall-mounted speakers as the man in the purple suede blazer gestured for his comrades to remove their robes and deposit them on the floor.
Judy noticed the floor first. The indigo blue shag carpet had been stripped and strategically replaced by Tibetan wool. She shuddered as she recalled their final moments in that room. The whole scarring saturnalia had culminated in their sexual assailants taking out box cutters and carving out the large section of the carpet on which they had engaged in all of their sticky misdeeds. They had rolled the section of soiled deep-pile shag up into an oblong cylinder and turned to Judy and her friends where they cowered on the parquet.
“Two hundred k to the thirsty boy or girl who drinks their fill.”
Ellen had elbowed her boyfriend in the ribs and shoved Judy out of the way. Her eyes were glued shut by a thick web of semen, but she didn't let it stop her. Through the blurry vision afforded her through one narrowed slit, she seized the oblong shag cylinder with both hands and raised it over her head. It flopped to one side at the top, shifting its weight, but Ellen did not let the strain deter her. She opened her mouth wide and waited patiently for their collective juices—all of the puke and sweat and sperm and pussy juice—to funnel out of the carpet segment and hit her tonsils.
The two hundred thousand dollars never materialized, but by then it didn't matter. They no longer cared; after that night, they did not covet money as much as they coveted amnesia.
The chenille futons were gone now, but what remained was enough to transport them both to a time they had worked tirelessly to block out. Roy remembered the feeling of helplessness he had felt as eight strangers groped him and his girlfriend like they were made of wet clay, massaging them, molding them, prepping them for what was next. And what was next was already apparent from the massive erections staring them in their young faces.
Hands went to their throats, choking them within an inch of their lives, before releasing them and sucking on their mouths ferociously as they struggled to catch their breath. Two men pinned Ellen down with her hands behind her back and held hands as they both stuffed her little pink asshole. Another man jerked Gary viciously as another dipped his balls in Gary's willing mouth. And all the while, Roy stared on in doe-eyed shock at the scene playing out before him. His mouth hung open... until it, too, was filled with strangers' cocks.
Roy's mouth was stretched this way and that as two men engaged in an impromptu sword fight, jabbing him in the cheeks and tonsils until he gagged and spit up all over his own chest. The two men chowing down on Gary's brown eye craned their necks at the sound and stumbled over themselves in their haste to lap up the foamy spittle rolling down Roy's pecs.
As the two men sucked the stomach acid off his chest, another came over and stuck his tongue in Roy's ear, rolling it around until he came away with a reward. He then spit in Roy's mouth and bit down on his bottom lip.
Roy Collins felt helpless because he didn't think he could afford to stop, nor did he feel entitled to stop his girlfriend who needed the money to continue her education. So, he had done everything they asked. And the more he gave himself over to their debauched whims, the more he felt...