Should you be offended by explicit sexual material, or if you are under age in your local, please read no further. Please leave and avoid both of us embarrassment.

This little tale is a work of fictiion. No one in this story is based on anyone in real life. Any apparent references or relationships to real people or events are purely coincidental, and not intentional.

The reader should also recognize that, as everything in this work is fiction, this story is meant for entertainment and amusement. There are many acts described of violence and behavior considered unacceptable by society. No actions are condoned or otherwise sanctioned or encouraged.

Krissie Beavers

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Midas Freshman Part 4

Cowboy Bar

It was late Thursday afternoon when Medi, dressed in an expensive white suit with a black shirt opened to the navel, stepped into the favorite student watering hole, the Cowboy Bar. His escorts were right behind him. It was late in his first year at the University. In a few weeks it would be finals, and then everyone would go their own ways. Some would return. Others would not return.

Medi knew, very well, that he didn’t fit well in this place, especially with his gold chains glittering on his hairy chest. Many of the men in the bar were attired, to one degree or another, in cowboy attire. There were all kinds of cowboy hats, scarves, and boots. Without exception, the jeans were about as tight as they could be. The women were a more varied lot. Many of them dressed in a fashion similar to the men, but there was no mistaking their gender. Some of the women also sported Indian attire, such a beads, earrings, and moccasins.

He went up to the bar, got a drink, and surveyed the scene. Out here in the bar area, a juke box was pounding out some Country and Western music. He would never understand the American need to wail about pickup trucks, dogs and the wife who ran off. There were a scattering of women in amongst the men. Picking up his drink he climbed the stairs to the second floor. It was much too early for a band, and almost no one was up there, certainly no one he was interested in.

Returning to the main bar, he surveyed the crowd again. After a bit, he zeroed in on couple setting in a booth near the back wall. He was an average sized cowboy, complete with hat and boots. She was a pageboy brunette, turquoise earrings swaying when she tossed her head. She had on a tight, pullover denim shirt with Indian stitching, and a leather belt around her waist. Her tight, lace up jeans, occasionally covered doe skin moccasins.

Finishing his drink, he reached into his pocket and made sure the roll of twenties and the roll of hundreds were handy. Nodding to Jarvis and Grimes, he made his way through the sea of tables to the couple. The man glanced at him and returned to his date. She smiled vaguely at him and returned to their conversation. He stood their, at their side, until they both looked at him again.

“Something I can do for you, partner?” The cowboy didn’t sound very interested. The girl, green eyed, was checking him out again,her eyes flicking over his chains and the quickest of looks at his crotch.

He assumed the most diffident tone he could manage. “Well, I really don’t mean to bother you.” And then he rushed his words, looking around nervously. “I am, well, I’m supposed to do an experiment for my Psych class, and , well.” He stopped and looked at them. He was lying of course. There was no Psych class.

“Get lost bub!” He was jerking his thumb toward the door. She wasn’t saying anything, just looking puzzled. Medi reckoned she had a size C chest. She had long legs, too.

He had anticipated such a response. “Oh, I forgot a vital piece of information.” He smiled and held up a twenty in each hand.

Suddenly the cowboy was all smiles. “Well, why didn’t you say so, partner? Set yourself down.” Medi returned the smiles as he moved to the other side of the table. He was holding out his hand. “I’m Harv, and this,” he was patting her on the shoulder, “this here is Tiffany.” They motioned to the pitcher of beer, and waved for another glass. When the barmaid eventually came, he would top his glass off, but not drink much. Harv was looking, with some distaste, at Medi’s gold chains. Tiffany’s glance was more appraising.

Medi made his hands flutter nervously on the table. It was necessary that they see him as no threat until later. He focused most of his attention on Harv, not ready to hook her yet. “The study, you see, is really quite simple. And you may find it amusing.” They were both looking with only mild interest. “Yes. It has to do with the effects of money on people’s behavior.” He was looking puzzled. She was more interested. “It is a modest study, of course. It is not the inheritance of large sums that we are studying, but small amounts of money.” Harv was looking a little more interested. She was glancing nervously at her boyfriend. “Would the two of you like to be participants?”

Tiffany was licking her lips, wondering where this was headed. “Do we get to keep the money?” This all seemed too good to be true. When he nodded, she beat Harv to the punch and told the Arab that they would be happy to participate. Harv was looking more quizzical than hostile, his interest peaked as well.

He took out a small recorder and placed it on the table. “Is it okay if I record this? It will help me when I compile my notes.” He nodded his head, and they finally nodded too. “Okay, so, for the record, your names are Harv and Tiffany?” They assented. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled a twenty out of his left pocket, and put it on the table. “First, for $20, may we rearrange the seating?” He could see a look of mild irritation on Jarvis part, and that calculating look on hers.

Tiffany looked straight at the Arab. She was so tired of Harv running everything. Just for once, they were going to do something she wanted to do. After all, they were going to make $20, weren’t they? “Oh sure, why not? That is, Harv, if it’s okay with you.” She didn’t wait for him to agree. “So, where do you want us?”

Medi suggested that she join him on his side of the table. Harv grudgingly got up to let her out. As she slid in beside him, he moved as close to the wall as he could. She maintained a discrete six inches between their hips. He could almost feel her body heat.

Tiffany sat down beside this strange Arab, wondering what was going to happen. As she had come around the table again, she had done another rapid check of him. The jacket was expensive. She wished she could get Harv to dress better. And she was pretty sure the chains on his chest were gold. He was not very tall, probably no taller than she was, and his build was on the smaller side. She almost giggled, wondering if he was as hairy over his body as his chest was. Harv was pretty smooth. It was kind of fun to have someone want you to be nearer to them. After all, these Arabs had a hard time finding decent girls to go out with them.

Harv was wondering what this slimy Arab wanted, but the money on the table was undeniable. He could get several pitchers of beer out of this. But he was going to have some words with Tiffany later. The girl was getting a little too pushy and he was going to have to put her in her place. She wasn’t real fond of head, and he had a hankering for some, maybe in the parking lot after Omar the Tent Maker finished his little experiment. He was nonplussed when a man, a hard man with a flat nose, was invited to set at the table. Harv became very aware of the difference in their two sizes. The Arab did not introduce him, or explain why he was setting with them. As he pushed himself closer to the wall to avoid contact with him, Harv noticed another large man, black, settling in near their booth, effectively blocking it off from outsiders. He watched, sourly, as Tiffany scooped up the money. He started to say something, but decided to hold it for later.

Medi reached into his 20’s pocket and laid another one on the table. It was one of the older bills. He glanced at the unhappy cowboy wedged up against the wall and turned his attention to her. “Tiffany, you know that they sell T-shirts here, right?” She nodded. He pushed the bill in her direction. “Would you mind buying yourself one? If you would, buy one that would be a little smaller than you normally wear, okay?”

Tiffany was trying to figure out what his game was. “I’m not sure how much they cost.” She nodded at the bill on the table. Will that be enough?” The Arab laughed and said he really didn’t know. He produced another $20 and put it on the table. He even told her she could keep the change. She smiled and headed to the bar.

While the woman was gone, Grimes did his part. He produced a switchblade and let Harv see it. The cowboy’s eyes widened in fear. The tough growled, “Pull your fucking pants and drawers down boy. Or I’ll cut you good.”

Harv was almost petrified. But the knife pricking his forearm galvanized him into action. With trembling hands, he undid his big John Deer belt and raised his body to get his tight jeans moving. The rough man glanced at his lap and ordered him to get them down further. Wishing he dared call out, but too embarrassed to do so, he did as he was ordered, pushing them down around his knees. He stifled a groan as the knife was suddenly down in his lap, the flat of the blade laying against his very limp dick.

“Now Harv,” the Arab spoke, “I don’t want anything unpleasant to happen. You would be well served to remain quiet. I will return Tiffany to you, on Monday. She will not be harmed in any way. And you will be compensated for your time. I’m sure you won’t force my friend to do anything to ruin our time together. Do you understand?” The ashen faced cowboy nodded. Medi urged him to drink some of his beer and pass the time as pleasantly as he could. “Oh, and if anything should ever happen to me, my friend here will receive $10,000 to turn you into a eunuch.” The cowboy nodded dumbly.

Meanwhile, Tiffany had threaded her way through the maze of tables to the bar. After waiting for a covey of barmaids to get their orders in, the chesty blonde barkeep asked her what she needed. With the increasing volume of the crowd and the blaring juke box, it took two attempts to get her to understand that Tiffany wanted one of the bar T-shirts. Until now, she had never really looked at them. The only color was hot pink, and the cut was pretty deep. There was the outline of a leering woman. The lettering proclaimed, FORGET THE HORSE, RIDE THE COWBOY. They settled on a Small for her. She paid $23 for the T-shirt. When she got back to the booth, the three men were setting pretty much where they had been. Harv looked a little strange and didn’t say much. She took his lack of eye contact with her as unhappiness that she had taken the spotlight from him.

He smiled at her as she held up the T-shirt for him. He reached into his 20’s pocket and produced another bill. “Would you like to wear it for me?” She laughed and nodded.

As she laughed and started to get up, the man put his hand on her arm, and she stopped. He wanted to know if she would wear it without a bra. She wasn’t very surprised. “Why would I want to do that?” Another bill appeared from his pocket. She glanced at Harv, who was staring into his beer. She didn’t understand his passivity at all. What had gone on between the men? She shrugged and said, “Okay, why not.” She would show Harv that he couldn’t just ignore her.

From an inside pocket, he produced a flimsy black G-string. He had a $20 pressed against it. “Would you mind wearing this too?” He smiled hopefully until she shrugged again, and plucked them both from his hand.

Tiffany made her way to the ladies room, which was on the far side of the wall and down the stairs. Inside, she stepped into a stall and closed the door. She dropped the lid. Reaching down, she grabbed her pullover shirt and pulled it past her boobs and over her head. She dropped her shirt and undid her bra. She immediately felt the coolness of the room as she dropped the white bra on top of her shirt. Her boobs wiggled and jiggled with every one of her movements. Picking up the T-shirt, she snapped off the plastic price tag and pulled it on. It was pretty tight, as she expected, and the deep cut showed the gap between her breasts. The T-shirt ended eight inches above her jeans, showing off her flat stomach. Through the hot pink of the thin fabric, her nipples showed clearly. Holding up the G-string, it turned out to be crotch less. She grinned to herself, feeling naughty. After getting the moccasins off, she wiggled out of her tight jean, and got rid of her lime green panties. She felt more cool breezes on her legs and bum. Putting the ridiculous G-string on, she adjusted it as best she could. She pulled her jeans back on and laced them shut. She could feel the seam of her jeans pressing into her ass and pussy crack. After putting her moccasins back on, she rolled her discarded clothes up in a tight bundle and stepped out to look at herself in the mirror. She eyed herself critically, taking in the pretty brunette staring back at her. She hopped experimentally, and saw her boobs flop around before settling down. She hoped she didn’t have to go like this very long, as it really wasn’t very comfortable. She was startled to see her nipples beginning to harden.

She bounced, literally, back up the stairs, and made her way through the crowd. Even though she was looking straight ahead, she knew she was getting more than the usual number of glances from the over sexed cowboy wannabes than usual. She felt more than a little embarrassed as she set down in the relative security of the booth. Not knowing what else to do with them, she laid the extra clothes on the table.

Medi and Grimes had been eyeing the brunette as she returned to the table. Harv, instead, took a sip of beer, and didn’t look up. She felt even more irritated at him. Didn’t he care what she did? Was he so sure of himself? She was even more determined to show him she could make her own decisions and run her own life.

Medi deliberately let his eyes travel down over her chest, but refrained from craning his neck to look down her shirt. She reddened, but did not look away from him. He reached into his hundreds pocket and pulled several of them out. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing. “Tiffany, would you please spill beer on your new T-shirt, and then go to the bar and ask for a towel to dry yourself off with?” He laid a bill down on the table.

For a second she wanted to slap him, or laugh, or something. But she could see he was serious, and the $100 on the table spoke volumes. Having been to a number of wet T-shirt contests with Harv, although she had never participated, she knew what effect it would have. Before she could say anything, there was a second bill on the table. “I really don’t think I should. I’m not that kind of girl.” There was a third bill on the table.

She gulped and looked at Harv again. “Harv, what do you think? Are you going to let me do this?” But he was no help, still not looking at her. And then she got furious with him. Didn’t he care if she acted like a tramp? She picked up the pitcher and held it up. Closing her eyes, she tilted it forward and jumped when the cold beer hit her skin. This caused even more to spill, and it was running through her T-shirt, over and between her bare breasts, down her flat stomach. It was even running down inside her waistband. Without meaning to, she let out a loud eeck, and people were turning to look her way.

In too deep to back out now, she slid out from the booth and stood up. Without looking, she knew the thin fabric was clinging to her chest, hiding nothing. Men and women were staring at her, not her face, but about a foot lower, and all she could do was go on. Talk in the bar was dying down. Face feeling like a blast furnace, she worked her way through the maze of tables to the bar. And then the volume of conversation picked back up. She could hear the remarks about her, and her ears burned, too. The barkeeper watched her as she made her forward, and had a clean towel ready for her even before she got there. Still avoiding eye contact with the crowd, she toweled her chest and stomach off. Gingerly, she tried pulling the fabric away from her breasts, but it immediately stuck again. And there was nothing to do for the dark splotch on the crotch of her hip hugger jeans. She considered running from the bar, but the thought of the money caused her to return. The Arab was admiring her, while the silent guy said nothing. Harv wouldn’t look at her at all.

While she was gone, Medi turned to her erstwhile boyfriend. “Harv. If you think about it, I’m doing you a favor.” He looked up at Medi, eyes filled with hate. “I just wanted you to know what kind of girl she was. In a minute she is going to come back her. And then she is going to willingly go with me. And I am going to screw her brains out. She will beg me to fuck her in each of her holes. And she will beg my men to screw her too. And when I am done, I will give her back to you, if that’s what you want.” Harv was very angry, and the pressure of the knife was all that protected Medi from being torn apart. Medi peeled off 5 hundreds and pushed them across the table to cuckold. “Here, this will help take the sting out of it all.” The bills disappeared before Tiffany returned. Medi noted that, even though she had toweled off, she might as well have been bare from the waist up, for all the good the T-shirt did.

Tiffany was getting cold. She disliked the way the T-shirt felt, cold and clammy. And now she smelled like beer. And she didn’t like the way the Arab was looking at her, and the way his friend was looking at her, and the way the room was looking at her, and the way Harv wouldn’t look at her. What was wrong with that man? Didn’t he care about the way she was acting?

The Arab ignored the room looking at them. Medi smiled reassuringly at the strangely angry girl. “What sacrifices we make for science, yes?” She turned her gaze to him, and he could see anger still on it. “Just a couple of more questions, and then we will be done. Is that all right?” She nodded. “You can say yes or no to them, and I will pay all the same, okay?” He produced another hundred and she nodded.

He looked at her chest again, and then into her eyes. “Did Harv take your cherry, or did someone else?” Her face was a study of anxiety.

This had bothered Harv greatly. She could see that her boyfriend had flinched. She shook her head in the negative.

“How many men have you sex with?” He was holding up some twenties. “One for each extra man.” He could see her eyes traveling from Harv to the money and back again. “How many?”

In a quiet voice she answered. “Four.” Was that with or without Harv. “Harv is number five.” He handed her four twenties.

“Have you ever had sex with a nonwhite man?” She shook her head no. He slid a twenty out on the table. Scarlet faced, she took it.

“Pity. Have you ever had sex with a woman?” She again shook her head no. Another twenty went down on the table. It also disappeared.

Tiffany could not believe she was actually doing this. She had probably lost Harv, but she wasn’t sure she cared, since he didn’t care. She wondered what the people in the room must be thinking. She had acted the part of the bimbo, with the beer and the towel. And here she was taking money from this fucking Arab.

Another twenty went down on the table, with another one up in the air. “What is your favorite position?”

She was beyond shame. Strangely, she was beginning to feel some heat between her legs. “The usual position.” He wanted to know what that was. “You know, the missionary position.” She was suddenly struck at how absurd that was. He was an Arab after all.

“What is your least favorite position?” He already knew what she would say.

“I don’t like being taken from behind.” He wanted her to be more specific. “You know, from behind.” He was still looking blankly at her. “You know, up the ass. I don’t like doing it Greek.” He nodded, the stupid foreigner.

He continued, after handing her the twenty. “Do you suck cocks?” She nodded.

He held up another twenty. “Do you let them cum in your mouth?” She closed her eyes and nodded. “Do you swallow.” She said she did sometimes.

“Do you like the taste?” She shook her head. “But you do it anyway?” She nodded.

He sensed that she was at the edge of coming with him. He reached into his shirt pocket and put a gray pill on the table. This was one of those products a friend of his at the Ag College had given him. He smiled to himself. He knew that the wildest dreams of adolescent boys was the fabled ‘Spanish Fly’. In spite of all the mail order scams and little bottles in Porn shops, it didn’t exist. Until now. What was on the table was as near as it came. In time, it would be used on livestock to make the female of the species receptive to the male. It was still in trials, but it worked more than it didn’t.

“Tiffany, do you see that?”

She nodded. But she didn’t know what she was looking at, or what this had to do with anything else that had occurred so far this afternoon. “What is it?”

“I am so glad you asked. In time, this will be call TEMPEST. Any female who takes this will experience a vastly heightened sex drive for up to 72 hours.” It was closer to 12, but that could wait until later. More to the point. If Tiffany took it, she would be uncomfortably aroused for an extended time. And there would be only one thing which would help her.

Tiffany looked at the pill on the table. She looked, in turn, at Harv and the Arab. She wasn’t sure how much she cared about Harv’s feelings in this any more. In her foolish anger of moments ago, she had probably lost him anyway. She had to admit the thought was interesting, but she could never agree to become a bimbo. “Why would I take it?”

Medi smiled a knowing smile at her. He had a number of hundreds in his hand now. And she was looking at them. “It is a small matter really. We leave here together. We will return you to a place of your choosing Monday morning. You will be asked to do nothing you do not agree to.”

So he wanted her to be a prostitute for him. “You said we?”

He nodded. “You would be entertaining, not only me, but my friends as well.”

She presumed he was talking about the two large men with him. And then he peeled off 10 bills and laid them on the table beside the pill. Tiffany swallowed, feeling flushed again. The warm feeling between her legs was growing and she knew her nipples were hardening again. But she couldn’t do this. She shook her head. She watched as the Arab peeled off another five bills. She could feel her hands wanting to shake and her mouth felt so dry. “But I’m not not that kind of girl.” Her voice sounded squeaky.

Medi resisted telling her they already knew what kind of girl she was, and they were simply establishing the price. Her pupils were dilated. He knew they were almost there. He counted out another five bills and laid them on the growing pile. He arched his eyebrows. And then her hand started to move, and stopped.

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do?” She was breathing irregularly.

“Not a thing. It will all be up to you. The money will all be yours on Monday morning.” He wasn’t going to have her take the money and then dummy up on him.

“But I would have to have it right now.” She was beginning to sweat a little, unaware she had crossed over from denial to bargaining. Another five bills went down on the table.

This time, when Tiffany reached out, she took the pill. It was rather large. Picking up her glass of beer, she popped the pill into her mouth and washed it down with the luke warm liquid. It tasted that awful taste of any pharmaceutical product. She suddenly wondered if she had poisoned herself or something. She didn’t know what to expect. Her voice was shaking slightly. “When will it happen?”

Medi knew exactly what she wanted to know. “It is pretty fast acting. It is dissolving in your stomach now, and will be absorbed through the stomach lining in a matter of seconds. You will begin to notice the effects shortly.” He still made no move to touch her. Harv continued to stare at the table top, not seeming to hear anything anymore.

Tiffany was busy doing an inventory of her body and feelings. And she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. She made to take the $2000 on the table, but the Arab gently put his hand on hers and removed the money from the table. “You promised you’d give it to me, right?”

She saw him nod. She noticed that she was feeling a little flushed and beginning to feel keyed up. And the warmth was spreading from her legs out to the rest of her body. Her hands were shaking a little. To keep herself occupied, she took another swallow of beer. It was really not very good stuff. For some reason her muscles seemed a little jerky and not quite in her control. She was suddenly extremely aware of the Arab setting beside her, and could feel his body heat near her legs.

She looked into his eyes. “I never did get your name.” She was finding it a little hard to breath regularly.

Even as he told her his name was Medi, she felt her breasts coming fully erect and she was beginning to have a desire to touch them. But she couldn’t do that in public. And the warmth between her legs had turned to heat. She was acutely aware of the stitching against her vagina. Just thinking of that, and suddenly she felt herself become wet. She recognized that she was becoming really horny. She glanced at Harv again, but he wouldn’t look at her.

Medi was watching her with interest. Outwardly, she was a little flushed. Every now and then she would have a change of expression, indicating something going on. Now and then she would look into his eyes and he simply looked back. He felt himself growing hard, and he caught a whiff of pussy, and knew she was under the effects of the drug.

Tiffany was feeling an almost uncontrollable urge to touch herself. She tried moving her legs around to make herself feel better, but it only intensified the need to touch herself. She knew it must be the pill she had taken, but she could not longer deny that she needed relief. And her need was a strong as any she had ever felt. Desperate to retain some of the traditional role of men and women, she uncrossed her legs and let her leg brush against the Arab’s. Surely he would respond.

Medi was amused that she was in growing need. When she brushed her leg against his, he let her do it. But he didn’t respond, waiting to see what else she would do. Her breasts were rising and falling as she was taking breaths.

She could see he wasn’t going to take the hint. “Um, what do we do now?”

Medi knew he had won. “Whatever you want to do.”

She waited for him to take command. But he didn’t. “Would you like to go somewhere?” She wanted to scream at him. She needed help, now.

“What do you want?” Medi was fully enjoying this.

“I want to get out of here and go somewhere else. Can we go now?” She was beginning to slide out from the booth.

“To what end?”

She slid back down the bench to him, putting her mouth to his ear. “You bastard. You win. I want you to make love to me. I need you to do it now.”

He laughed lightly. “Why don’t you tell our friends what you want?”

She didn’t care anymore. “I want you to fuck me. I will do anything you want. But I want yo to fuck me, now!” And she was sliding back to the opening, this time tugging at his hand. To her relief he was coming.

As Medi slid out from the booth, he turned to the two men setting there. “Why don’t the two of you stay and finish your beer? Oh, maybe Jarvis would like to join you.” As he slid out, the large black man replaced him, across from the cowboy.

She had eyes only for Medi. The brunette, T-shirt plastered to her tits, was tugging at him. He put his arm around the whore’s waist, and she glued herself to him. For everyone’s benefit, he slid his hand over her ass, patting her in a proprietary manner. She stiffened when he did it, but didn’t protest. All eyes were on the two of them as they stepped from the bar, hips and thighs tightly pressed to each other.

The three men at the table looked at each other. The big black man smiled at his fellow tough and held up a long neck beer bottle. “See this cowboy?” He waited until the man nodded. “If anything goes wrong, if you cause any trouble tonight, or any other night, I’m going to find you. And then I’m going to ram this up your ass. And I’m going to do this.” He had turned the bottle upside down on the table. Rapping the end of it with his newly produced black jack, the bottle shattered, leaving green glass glistening on the table. “You understand cowboy?” He waited until the suddenly pale Harv nodded. “Good. Now that we understand each other, my friend and I are going to leave. You have a real nice evening now, here?” The two of them got up, carefully watching their prey. When they were satisfied he would cause no trouble, they swaggered out of the bar.

Meanwhile, Tiffany marched down the street. Walking didn’t help her condition. Her Arab steered her to a full-sized van. She was only vaguely aware the windows were heavily tinted, making it impossible to see inside. He opened the cargo door for her. As she climbed in, he fondled her ass. She pushed back against him, making him shove her inside. She found herself in the back compartment, which was really just one big bed, covered with one of those fake bear skin rugs.

She turned to him even before he closed the door. She grabbed at his shirt, pulling him to her. She knew she was acting like a shameless slut, but she needed him. “Hurry baby, I want you inside me.” She was unbuttoning his shirt, needing to run her hands over his hairy chest.

Medi, engorged with his own desire, somehow regained some self control. “Wait Tiffany. There is something I want you to do for me, first.”

Tiffany was almost shivering with desire. “Anything. I’ll do anything you want.” She imagined he wanted her to perform some sex act from his own country. She was ready.

Medi tossed her some sheer thigh-high nylons and some golden undies. She had dressed for some of her prior boyfriends before, so it was no big thing. She had to lay down as she kicked out of her squaw boot and shimmied out of her snug jeans. The crotch less G-string went with it. Still on her back, she rolled up the slinky nylons. Sticking her foot inside, she slowly raised her leg into the air, rolling the seamed nylons on. They were thigh-highs. Still on her back, she found a golden garter belt, which she put around her waist and attached to the nylons. She wiggled into the slinky golden G-string, over the garter belt, the way a bad girl wore her clothes. And she finished it off with a golden slinky chemise. She felt both excited and cheap by the time she had gotten these clothes on. The addition of a blonde wig completed her transformation into a total slut.

Medi watched her the whole time, getting harder and harder. The van lurched as his two hired men got into the front of the van, but neither he nor Tiffany paid them any attention. She rolled over and crawled across the bed to him. She tried to kiss him, but he pulled away from her. “I don’t kiss whores. This is what your mouth is for.” He could hear her labored breathing as her trembling hands struggled with, first his belt, and then with his zipper. And then his manhood sprang out, slapping her in her face. Gripping her hair, he forced her lips to it. After a brief refusal, she surrendered to him, taking him into her mouth. His insistent pressure on her head forced it further and further in. She gagged and tried to lift her head, but he fought her, and won. She then took him fully in to her.

Tiffany could taste his pre-cum, but didn’t mind very much. With one hand wrapped around his cock, and the other hand rubbing her pussy, she went to work on him. She knew this should be mortifying for her, that she was giving head to a perfect stranger, but she didn’t care. When he suddenly stopped her, she understood pulled up. She pushed him down on the mattress and straddled him rubbing her pussy on his manhood for a few seconds. Her G-string was soaked with her own juices. Pushing the thin material aside, she rubbed her bare pussy over his uncut flesh. Emitting a low moan, she had a small orgasm. There was just no substitute for man meat for a girl in her condition. Raising herself, she grabbed him again, and pushed her pussy lips against his hood. He was on the smaller side and she was so wet that he penetrated quite easily. Greedy, she impaled herself on him, moaning in totally pleasure. She leaned back, putting her full weight on his crotch. She spread her legs further in order to get him all the way into her. Almost before she could move, he arched his back and shot his Arab sperm into her white belly. She did not care that she was unprotected, that his DNA messengers were racing through her open gates, deep into her body. She was willingly plundered by this oily Arab.

Medi grunted as he emptied himself into her. He looked up into her face, eyes screwed tight in concentration, jaws grinding away as she cried out in exultation. The performance enhancing drug he had taken earlier had supercharged his cum. And Tiffany was experiencing an incredibly powerful orgasm, caused by his own sperm. And she would have them every time he came inside her. He lay back, exhausted, as the greedy golden girl squeezed him dry. He smiled, knowing that, among other things, he had reset her menstrual period, and she would be fertile in two weeks.

What followed was a three day party, with Tiffany at the center of everything. Medi was able to convince her to crawl up front and convince Jarvis to come back and join her. It wasn’t hard. She straddle him, stabbed herself with his hard black meat, and rode him, like the cowgirl she was. Grimes was next, also cowgirl style, rocking the van back and forth. With that, they arrived at the Lone Pine Hotel, a rent by the hour dive downtown. He made her walk, dressed in her skimpy outfit, up the stairs to their room. Once there, she was given the opportunity to earn $100 a fuck, for every time she went to one of the three men and asked them to fuck her up her ass. Somewhere over the next several days, she agreed to be video taped as she performed a variety of sexual acts. When she finally returned to her dorm, she wore the same slinky gold outfit she had been fucked in, cum encrusted and stinking like the well paid whore she was.

Medi was well satisfied as he went into Finals week. He had the satisfaction of noting the absence Tommy during the test sessions. His erstwhile opponent had been unable to cope with the realization that his girl-friend had turned into a common whore.