Please note: The following story is protected under international
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please email to "twylamarie at ymail.com"

   It's very hard to put your life in writing like this.  If you
liked what you read, can identify with it, or simply didn't
understand it or found a typo, drop me a line.  All thoughts and
input are appreciated.

######

One night I wanted some speed - my girlfriend and I wanted to
party. (For those interested in my other stories - this was the
trip referenced in the story about Roxanne.)

My own dealer was out, so on a lark I decided to drop over to
another dealers house. I had been there once with a friend of a
friend. Not knowing any better, I went alone and knocked on his
door with no prior call. When he opened the door he was cool
about it and said he thought he knew me - but wasn't sure and was
uncomfortable.  I should have left then, but instead pushed him.
He told me that he would be more open to discussion if I allowed
him to check for a wire - something that I agreed to not
realizing his plan.

Next thing I know I'm being strip searched - and I was scared
enough to go with it.  He acted like it was strictly business and
soon had me down to my bra and underwear.  They were pretty sheer
- so I thought we were done, but he told me he had to check the
wire in my bra, and did so by moving his fingers completely
around the under wire - and back up the inside of the cleavage. 
Since he didn't ask me to take it off, I gave him points for not
being a perv.


Once I was nearly nude, it got a bit weirder.  He said he had to
check the seams in my pants and my shoes, and offered me a wine
cooler, a bong hit and a line while he did it.  Had I been less
stupid, I probably would have seen my way to understand that he
probably wouldn't be offering an underage girl alcohol and
illegal drugs if he was still really worried about a bug, but I
was good at bad decisions, so while he slowly moved his fingers
through the seams on my jeans, I quickly got high.

The line wasn't crank or speed - it was white powdered heroin and
if you've never done that, it is what it sounds like.  (Heroin is
not something people casually did in my town. This was Iowa - not
Detroit.)  It took all of about 3 minutes for me to be too fucked
up to drive and 20 minutes later I had one shoe back but not my
pants or blouse.  I asked for them when I thought to, but I was
pretty much a mess and remember I was salivating and dribbling
spit onto his chair.


He made his move under the guise of helping me put my blouse back
on - and since I have pretty large breasts it required some
pretty close up work to get it over my head.  I knew what was
happening at some level so I reminded him I was only 17 - which I
think did surprise him, but he wasn't ready to give up yet.


He went to get his bag of speed and dropped a goodly amount of it
on a scale.  He cut what I wanted and asked for money. I told him
it was in my pants - but surprise it wasn't there.


He first offered to give me the $40 worth of speed free if I
would get naked for him. All pretense of his being a gentleman
was out the window then, but he pretended he was, explaining that
while I was a hot girl, he'd never touch jail bait but he did
wonder what I looked like.  If I had been anywhere sober, I would
have stormed out - pants or no pants.  I told him I didn't think
so and told him I would just leave rather than fight about the
lost money.

That seemed to satisfy him, but no pants turned up, but he did
provide me with another wine cooler which we drank as he stroked
my arm and vaguely acted menacing.  I was fairly sure I was going
to be raped at this point - but I'm 100% sure that I could not
have stood up, much less gotten behind a wheel - if I had tried.
I decided to call his bluff a little bit and simply asked him if
he was going to let me go, which I think freaked him out and he
backed off a bit, but he wasn't ready to quit quite yet.


He cut me a line of speed as I think he was actually worried I
was too wasted. (I was.)  I actually was so fucked up that I
spilled the first he made for me so he made me another - and when
he was wiping the fallen powder of my tits with his hand there
was a lingering that was not even disguised as anything other
than feeling me up so I pushed him away.

After two lines, I felt better if totally fucked up.  I asked for
my pants one more time - and I think he knew that it was time to
end the game.  He picked up the speed on the table and told me he
felt bad about the money.  He offered me the bag - perhaps $200
worth - if I would get naked for him and use my hand on him while
he used his hands on me.


I was 17 - not a virgin but not a whore. I actually considered
this - I wanted that speed and I wanted out of this.  I tried to
convince myself that it was just a hand job, but couldn't do it.
I knew that something was going to have to happen though - so I
eventually told him I had my blouse on already but I would trade
him my panties for my pants and half the bag. He agreed.


I wiggled out of my underwear without standing up and leaned
forward when I was done so he really wasn't seeing anything. 
This seemed to piss him off, but he cut half the bag up and put
it in his pocket.  He then took the rest and put it in another
bag, and picked up my pants.

He knelt down and held them out as if he meant to dress me - but
down at feet level too far away for me to get into them without
getting up.  So I did. This was a standoff of sorts and I knew it
when I saw it, but I was tired of playing the game.  If he was
going to try to rape me, it was going to happen somehow and I was
going to scream as loud as I could - drugs or no drugs.  So I
stood up, quickly put both feet in the pant legs and waited for
him to pull them up.

His face was exactly at waist level so he took the opportunity to
reach out with his tongue and lick the front of me - and then
looked up to see my reaction. If it had been horror or fear, I
don't know what would have happened.  Instead, I looked at him in
disgust, bent to grab the pants myself and pulled them up myself.
 He got a $100 glimpse of pubic hair paid for with speed, but
that was all he was getting. He reached up and put the bag into
the front pocket of my still unzipped jeans, and I walked behind
him to retrieve my shoes which were sitting behind him on a
table.


Then I walked out and swore I would never come to this house
again.


Sometimes first impressions aren't what they seem.    This was
just my first meeting with Dennis.  Eventually I would live with
him for years.