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 fiction. 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 Sophomore Part Five - Monica Morphs

Over the next two days, the two black men screwed Monica repeatedly. They took her every way they could think of. They had quite an imagination. It came to pass that a number of their friends also relieved their sexual tensions in the hapless white girl. It was only on Monday that Monica finally regained some of her senses. At the price of a couple of blow jobs on video tape, she was able to convince one of her stallions to drive her back to the University. She was careless about letting him see the dorm she went into.

Coming back on Monday night, she had missed a day of classes. More importantly, she had been missed by her roommate, Loni, a younger cousin. Over the next several hours she told the petite blonde a selected version of the truth. In her tale, her date had run off with another woman at the party. In a fit of jealous rage, she had agreed to one of several offers to go home with another man. After a weekend of dalliance, she had come back.

Loni wasn’t so sure whether to believe her bedraggled cousin, but, she had the good sense not to press her. After all, it would all come out when Monica was ready to talk about it. Loni put up a shield around her suddenly vulnerable cousin, not letting George anywhere near his former girl friend. She had always thought her cousin could do better than him, anyway.

Monica was still very sore from being used so many times, in so many ways, by a blurry number of men. She felt a sick thrill that they had been black. And they had been so big. She knew, now, that size did matter. She could not understand how she had lost control, and been thoroughly used, abused and degraded. And, anyway, she wasn’t interested in any further dating just then. She was just going through an unexpected period. Being on the pill, she had not had to worry about it much. She had looked at the timing on the dial, and found she should not have been in that phase for another week and a half. She dutifully moved forward to the proper phase in the sequence.

Monica eased back into the familiar. No serious harm had been done to her grades by being absent for a day. She was able to spin a story of being ill. In as much as she was a reasonably good student, her professors and TAs had taken her story at face value. Besides, she seemed, somehow, so vulnerable. She tended to start at sudden sounds, and seemed to have trouble meeting the direct looks of men. At some level, some of the men sensed she was, in a word, easy. But none of them took direct action.

Medi had looked through the video material on Monica Dennison. In spite of his extensive knowledge of porn, he didn’t recall seeing anyone being fucked the way the brunette had been screwed. It was very exciting. And he wanted her. Medi availed himself of Hernandez’s services to better understand her. He learned the dorm she lived in, and that she had a room mate.

The photo of Loni Dennison, a cousin, helped him develop an idea of how to get to Monica. It took a couple of days to get Rick and Marcus to come over to the University, and a couple of more days to get the right photos. And then he was ready.

A day later, Loni opened the dorm door. Her cousin was sprawled on a bed, reading a text. As Monica looked up, she tossed her a heavy envelope. “Here. This is for you?”

Fumbling around and finally digging it off the bedspread, she cocked an eye. “It’s kind of early. Did the mail come already?”

Loni, setting her stuff down, shook her head. “No. Some guy gave this to me and almost begged me to give it to you.” She was looking intently at her. She smiled slyly. “Do you have a secret admirer, or something?”

Monica inwardly cringed. She could not begin to count them. But she was curious. Feigning indifference, she shrugged. “Can’t say that I do.” She put it down, although curiosity was killing her, and picked her text back up.

“Aren’t you going to look at it?” Her cousin was silent. “Can I open it?” Monica shook her head. “You are a real kill joy. Well.” She raised up in mock indignation. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.” With that, she turned and strode to the door. Actually she was heading to the Woman’s Room.

Only after the door was closed did Monica grab the envelope. It was one of the big ones. Looking at the writing, it was in block letters, with her name on it. Looking at the door to see if it was about to open, she carefully pried open the seal. Inside were four glossy photos. She felt a sick fascination as she looked at the first. There she was, naked below the waist, legs wrapped around the waist of a large, well muscled black man, Rick. She felt the blood drain from her face, and her suddenly numb fingers dropped the picture. She couldn’t breath for a number of seconds. And her heart pounded as her ears roared with the sounds of blood. The sight of him flashed her back to that night of wild abandon, of giving into lust, of being degraded in ways she never imagined, and loving it.

With total dread she picked up the second photo. It showed her in the process of being stabbed up her ass by another well muscled black man, Marcus, while still impaled on Rick. Her face was one of ecstasy. She could feel sweat breaking out on her face. She was aware that her nipples were beginning to harden, and her womanhood was becoming warm.

Still panting, she looked at the third photo. It was one of Loni, standing somewhere, probably outside the Student Union. She was talking with someone. Directly behind her, staring into the camera, were Rick and Marcus. They were grinning broadly.

The last photo was a doctored version of the second. It still showed Rick and Marcus with their black cocks stabbing a white girl’s body. And that body was hers. But her head had been crudely replaced with that of her cousin. There had been no attempt to blend the images of the two women. But it was clear what their intent was.

Looking in the envelope, there was a note. “COME TO THE THREE TRAVELERS AT MIDNIGHT. MAKE YOURSELF PRETTY. OR LONI WILL BE THE ENTERTAINMENT.”

Monica quickly gathered up the material and stuffed it in among her homework before her cousin got back into the room. She stared fixedly into her book as her roomie tried to engage her. Finally, she snapped back at her, harder than she intended. Loni snarled back and stormed out, off to the library.

With her cousin gone, she pulled the contents of the envelope back out. Her hands were trembling and she felt sick to her stomach. Her vision blurred and then the contents of her stomach wanted to come up. Staggering to the dorm-room sink, she sicked up, fighting each contraction, quickly emptying her stomach. Her head pounding, she lurched back to her bed. She felt cold, sweaty, pasty-faced, and lightheaded. She curled up into a fetal ball and began to sob.

After some indeterminate time the shadows marched through the world and her room darkened. Feeling a little better, she opened a window and then went back to the sink and rinsed the nauseating mess down the drain. After washing her face, she used her toothbrush to get rid of the disgusting taste in her mouth. Feeling more human, she settled down to consider her problem. In the end, there seemed no choice. She could either do what Rick and Marcus wanted her to do, or see some terrible fate befall her cousin.

That very same cousin came back from the library. Without a word she dropped her books off and went off to eat. Monica thought how ironic it was that she was trying to save the ungrateful brat from ‘a fate worse than death’ as the Victorian novels used to describe it.

Knowing, now, what she had to do, she set about making herself pretty, as the note had put it. She would need to do it before Loni got back. Otherwise there would be too many questions to evade. Knowing what she had done a couple of weeks ago, she knew she was going to have sex with one or more men. That meant dressing the part. Beyond the outfit she had worn to the movie party, pretty well ruined, she only had some odds and ends. She eventually selected a pair of tight lace-up pants that were black, pretty thin, low riders that almost showed her beaver pelt. She selected a tight, silky zip-up top with long sleeves. She had a pair of three-inch stiletto heels, black, to complete the outfit. After some consideration, she selected a tiny black g-string. A bra seemed pointless.

Prepping her body, she showered first. And then she shaved her legs, armpits and trimmed back her pelt to fit inside the g-string. Putting on a liberal amount of perfume, she pulled on the g-string, letting it settle down in the crack between her cheeks. She shimmied into her tight pants, made even tighter by the laces. Try as she might, the band of the g-string kept showing above the very low waistline. Next, she donned the top, zipping it up past her breasts. Looking in the mirror, her nipples were clearly visible. As she looked at herself, she could feel and see them harden. She adjusted the zipper to show a small amount of cleavage. The makeup job was a little heavier than normal. Then she clipped a set of hooped earrings to her lobes, slipped into the heels, and escaped before Loni got back. As the door closed, she realized she had forgotten her coat, but she could hear Loni and some of her friends getting out of the elevator. Turning the other way, she minced to the stairwell and disappeared. Taking the stairs as fast as her heels would allow, she felt her unencumbered breasts flopping around. It was uncomfortable and caused her to slow her descent. She hurried as fast as her body would let her to the parking lot, avoiding people she knew.

Once on the road, she was faced with the prospect of nearly six hours to kill. She eventually found herself at the mall. Feeling self conscious, she wandered past the shops and stores. Once a place of interest and anticipation, it was loud, bright and incredibly dull. With each step she felt her breasts jiggling. From the looks of some of the males, she knew her nipples were magnets to their eyes. She stuck to the sides, almost hugging walls, to avoid people who might know her.

After eating something in the food court, she wandered around a bit more, and then headed back to the car. Setting in the car, she closed her eyes and tried to make the time pass. It was chilly and she wrapped her arms around herself to trap body heat. Each passing car, each slammed door, each fragment of conversation were like alarm bells. Her eyes would snap open, she would wildly look about to locate the potential threat, and then sink back into her seat. It was an eternity before midnight neared. At 30 minutes before the appointed hour she left the now darkened lot.

At eight minutes before her appointed time, she pulled into the under paved parking lot of THE THREE TRAVELERS. Lurching through hidden pot holes, she parked near the side entrance, putting her SATURN at risk next to a couple of monstrous SUVs. With the engine off, the car quickly cooled down. She regretted not having her coat. Butterflies turned cartwheels in her stomach as she stepped out into the even colder night air. The sounds of country and western grew louder as she approached the double doors of the garishly light establishment.

Fingers trembling, she opened the door and stepped inside the air lock. Through the glass door, she was confronted with a bouncer. He was the typical body builder type slowly balding and going to fat. He took his time looking her over before asking for her ID. It was a good enough fake that he didn’t call her on it. Besides, his gaze was mostly about 14” below her chin.

Not sure what else to do, she stepped on into the less well-lit room. Her eyes cast about, thinking that Rick or Marcus would step forward and greet her. But she didn’t immediately see them. In fact, this didn’t look like the kind of place Blacks would normally frequent. There seemed to be several trucker types at tables, looking her over. As she stepped toward the bar, she discovered that the music was from a juke box, not that she had really expected a band on a week night.

The bar tender, complete with toothy grin and false heartiness, asked her want she wanted. She ordered white wine. He offered her a couple of choices, and she took his Riesling. She liked the sweet taste. Waiting for him to return, she turned and surveyed the room, again. There was still no one she recognized. And, while most of the men were sizing her up, no one seemed especially motivated to come to her. Self consciously, she pushed a lock out of her face and perched on a stool near the cash register. With her back to them, she could feel her hips straining to hold her pants up. She realized they might be getting a good show, but she didn’t see how she could try and pull them back up.

From her location, she could look through the bar mirror at the entire room. It was not in her nature to be bold with the men. She had always preferred to be approached, rather than force herself on them. Still, she had to solve this business of finding the author of the note. She took quick peeks in the mirror, trying to avoid eye contact with the patrons.

She sipped her wine, and the alcohol induced warmth soon penetrated. But no one came forward. As she neared the end of her glass, nature demanded that she use the Ladies Room. Getting down from the stool, she knew every eye was on her as she walked the width of the room and turned down the little hall. Inside, it was drab but not overly dirty. She quickly finished her business. As she rearranged her hair, she pondered her options. Maybe this was all a joke. Maybe she had gotten the night wrong. Maybe she should start asking around to see who had contacted her. The last thought was more than she was yet willing to face.

Opening the door began the process of solving all of her problems. A slender Arab was lounging against the wall. He was staring at her. Under normal circumstances she would have blown on past him and back to the bar. But this was far from normal. Was this her contact? Inwardly cringing, she looked at him. “Hi.” That seemed safe enough.

Medi’s eyes traveled up and down her body. She looked pretty good to him. She was obviously wearing no bra. and every man in the room who had seen her on the stool knew she was wearing black panties. And they seemed pretty skimpy at that. “Hello. I am so pleased you came.” Her face was a mixture of relief, confusion and anger as her shoulders slumped. “Perhaps you would like to join me at my table?” He turned and walked away, not looking to see if she were following.

She was still expecting to see Rick or Marcus, not this guy. But he seemed to know that they were supposed to meet. Mechanically she followed him, at war with herself. She kept telling herself she wanted to save Loni from this, and that was the only reason. But there was another part as well. It was almost as if she liked being in an untenable position. She meekly followed this skinny bastard to a booth, which already held two rather rough looking men. One was white. The other was Black. She wondered how she had missed him in her wait. At his gesture, she slid in against the wall.

Medi slid in pretty close to her. He could feel the heat from her leg near his, but not quite touching. “May I call you Monica?” After a hesitation, she nodded. “Please meet Mr. Jarvis and Mr. Grimes.” They just looked at her. Medi could read their eyes. They were already ripping her clothes off and plundering her body. But not before he had his turn with her.

Monica didn’t know what to say. She was here because she felt she had no choice. And she was very aware of how provocative her attire might be. She tried hard to look the little man in the eye, but it was hard. “You told me to come. Here I am.”

Medi appreciated directness in these American whores. “Well. Yes. Let us say that you chose to come, yes? The alternatives were, shall we say, unpleasant?” He moved his leg fractionally, and it was almost touching hers.

Monica resisted rolling her eyes. Unpleasantness. “So. What next?” Did he seem to be moving closer to her?

Medi smiled at her. “What? No bargaining? No begging or pleading?” He let his leg brush against hers, and then pull back. He could feel his rod harden.

Monica laughed a short bark. “Would it do any good?” She already knew the answer. When his leg had brushed hers, she had expected it to stay. But he had backed away. Did he expect her to do the chasing? She didn’t want to make it easy for him.

“It is, of course, up to you. No one is keeping you here, as you can see.” He smiled, knowing she would not be able to leave. “You are free to go at any time, yes?” She said nothing. “Of course, there would be consequences. Perhaps you do not care about your cousin?” Her hard gaze waivered. “Perhaps you do not care if your family sees your interesting pictures?”

Monica was hating herself. He knew it all. He was leaving her nothing. “If I do what you want me to do, what guarantees to I have that none of the other stuff will happen?” She could not believe she was trying to bargain.

“Why, my dear girl, you have no guarantees at all. We will just have to see what happens.” She was silent. He made no move toward her. He wanted her to do this on her own. The silence stretched out. Medi began counting backward from 100, determined to force the issue only at that point.

Monica wanted to groan, but dared not. She decided to out wait him. The lack of conversation settled heavily on their table. She could clearly hear the music and the conversation in the rest of the room. But there was none there. If she didn’t do what they wanted, whatever that was, those pictures would come out. She was pretty sure they would have a wide circulation. And, maybe they would do something to Loni, or not. It became pretty clear he had her, and he wasn’t going to make it easier for her.

Medi saw her stir, slightly, and felt her leg pressing against his. He smiled and spread his arm past her. He knew she hated it as she slid up against him. He let his hand come to rest on her shoulder. It was firm beneath the silky blouse. He could smell her perfume well now, and she smelled good. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Monica felt totally humiliated. Here she was, sidling up to some stranger, with two more watching her every move. And there wasn’t anything she could do. And now he wanted to know if it was all right. She let out a strangled, “No. Everything is fine.”

Medi took his unoccupied hand and put it over hers. She didn’t pull away. And then he pulled both of them under the table and placed hers on his rock hard cock. She jumped but resisted pulling away. To make his intent perfectly clear, he forced her hand to stroke his manhood several times before pulling his hand away. She took the hint and kept stroking him. With his other hand, he let is droop down over the front of her blouse. She seemed resigned to his groping until he found her breast, covered only by the thin silk material. Her eyes were closed, probably in shame. His pinch of her nipple popped her eyes open, but she said nothing.

Monica was feeling a combination of embarrassment and a strange easing of her troubles. She was in this too deep, and had lost control of the situation. And there was nothing she could do to change the outcome. She had no choices. Her only wish was to get on with this. From his hard-on, it was clear he was ready to go. And, despite her revulsion to all of this, her womanhood was warming up. She laid her head on his narrow, hairy chest.

“Oh, very good. As you Americans say, you might as well relax and enjoy it, yes?” He really didn’t care if she enjoyed it or not. Nor did Grimes or Jarvis. He looked at her and she glared back at him. “Perhaps you would like another drink. It might make all of this easier for you.”

“Maybe we could just go somewhere, more private, okay?” She was hoping against hope he wouldn’t do her in public. She wanted at least a modicum of decency about all this.

Medi shrugged and stood up. He beckoned for her to follow him. She stood up, drawing the eyes of every man in the room. They could not have missed the Arab pawing her. He gestured toward the door and walked out. He didn’t need to look back. He could see her reflection on the glass door. He could see there would be no tears, or requests for mercy. At the van, he waited until she joined him.

The walk had seemed like an eternity. He had made her follow him, treating her like some harem girl. They did not have far to go in the darkened lot. Once at the van, he had slid the cargo door open. The sudden light had dazzled her, ruining her night vision. Past his mocking bow, was the large interior. She was not surprised to see, instead of seats, a flat platform. It was covered with some black furry something, probably fake. Edging past him, she endured a caress other hip, which slid back to her ass as she slid into the bedroom on wheels. She glanced quickly around as he hopped in, closing the door and the lights behind him. She had a memory of curtains on the windows.

Medi could not quite see her in the dark. He reached up and turned on a dim light. There she was, cowering toward the back. Without looking at her, he kicked out of his shoes and slid off his jacket. She never moved, but her eyes got bigger as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. Stretching about, he unzipped his jeans and slid them off, revealing his rock hard penis. He had been wearing no underwear. With that, he pulled back the heavy cover and slid under the covers, his legs moving past her.

Monica knelt there for a few seconds, looking at him looking at her. It was clear he wasn’t going to turn the light off. Closing her eyes, she unzipped her top and pulled it over her head. She felt goose bumps on her breasts from the chilled air. Pushing her shoes off, she undid the laces on her hip-hugger pants and slithered them off her hips and down her firm thighs. Without bothering to ask, she peeled off her g-string. On her hands and knees, she crawled toward him. She felt incredibly foolish as her breasts hung down, swinging about like cow udders. There was no way to avoid touching his body as she got under the cover. She lay on her back, avoiding any further contact with him.

Medi had enjoyed the site of her crawling toward him. She would get more practice later, he decided. He reached up and shut the light off. Then, turning to her, he simply climbed up on top of her. Her hands had momentarily resisted, and then he was sliding between her legs, his love muscle eagerly pulsating against her stomach. He grabbed one of her hands and guided it down to his manhood, expecting her to guide him in. And then he started probing.

He had said nothing to her. And now she was about to have sex with a man she didn’t know, like, or find the least attractive. She wondered if this was rape, although not violent at all. She wished she had asked him to put a rubber on, but it was probably too late now. His breath was heavy with beer and garlic. She felt a tear in her eye. Monica found that, with a little adjusting of her body, she could accommodate his weight on her body Without much trouble. He was far lighter than Rick or Marcus. At his incessant pushing between her legs, she pointed him toward her entrance. His surprisingly strong arms were wrapped around her shoulders, holding her pretty tightly. He was vigorous in pushing against her. She relaxed as best she could and let her body soften. She hoped he would be gentle, but that was not going to happen. In spite of herself, she whimpered. As her body began to lubricate her hole, he jabbed ever more forcefully. And then, with a white hot painful thrust, he was inside her. Her noise was as much a groan as a moan.

Having battered down her gates, he vigorously began to pump her. As these whores usually did, she rotated her hips to make it easier for him to stay inside her. Her experience with the blacks had not loosened her pussy up too much, yet. He knew that, as her legs wrapped around his waist, it wasn’t so much passion as it was her tiring muscles that brought her to the ultimate embrace. He more energetically held her, ignoring her efforts to move her head around so she could breath better, moving higher up on her as he strove to drive ever deeper into her. He was further excited, knowing she was fertile, ready to receive the seed of Ali, to make another son of the desert.

Monica was, at first, just trying to get through this. But her body began to take over, urging the mating on to a successful conclusion. She was thrusting against him every time he stabbed her, grinding her pelvic region against his. She was holding him tightly as the familiar warmth of lust began to envelope her. And, when he tensed and began to empty himself into her, she almost enjoyed it. And then she was carried off by a powerful orgasm. She gave in to the moans of desire and clawed at his back, urging him on. And, the powerful steed that he was, he responded with an unending pounding of her white belly. Another orgasm took her and she laughed and moaned, greedy for more. And he rode her endlessly. Lost in her lust, she arched her back, squeezing her thighs against him, draining him of his man juice. Despite her efforts to keep him going, he soon tired. After slowing to a more relaxed pace, he eventually stopped.

Medi raised himself and looked down at her. His eyes, adjusted to the dark, could see her looking up at him, unwilling to let him go just yet. As an experiment, he lowered his lips to hers. And she eagerly pushed up to kiss him, opening her moist warm lips to devour his, her tongue pressing against his, trying to penetrate him just has he had invaded her. After a time he pushed back from her, satisfied that he had conquered her.

After he rolled off of her Monica, found herself turning on her side and laying one leg over his, pressing her gaping pussy against his flank. Her head on his shoulder, she ran her fingers through his chest hair. If the rational part of her had been in control, she would have been horrified at the snuggling she was doing with her blackmailer. But the animal part of her was still enthralled at cumming so hard so many times in such a short period. It had been just like that with Rick a couple of weeks ago. As far as she was concerned, men of color were far better than whites. If this was what it was like, why would anyone ever go back?

He slid his hand down her hip and patted her on the ass. “Did that please you, my girl?” She didn’t say anything. They always seemed so modest, when they were far past that, now. “Did you like that?”

Monica was slowly going to sleep, enjoying the animal pleasure of muscle exhaustion. Sleepily she heard him. She mumbled an affirmative and ran her hand down to his crotch, to see if he was ready yet.

“Ah, you are such a greedy girl, aren’t you? If you want him again, you will have to help him.” With that he took some of her hair and tugged her head down under the covers.

Obediently Monica disappeared into the depths, ready to do her duty to reawaken the little giant. Her hand firmly on his sticky, limp worm, she kissed it. The smell and taste would have been unfamiliar to her a month ago, but she had done this a number of times already. And, besides, he was not nearly as large or thick as some she had nursed back to life before. Down there, in the dark, she licked and kissed until he began to harden. She ignored his hands in her hair as she caused him to stiffen. When she judged him ready, she pushed back up through the covers, legs spread wide to trap him under her. Still holding him, she raised herself up out of the warmth of their nest, exposing her torso to the not as cold air. With unerring accuracy, she ran herself down his shaft, pressing her pubic hair into his. Her hands on his narrow chest, she rocked on top of him. To keep him inside her slick channel, she spread her hips as wide as she could, driving herself down onto him.

Medi lay back, enjoying her tending to his needs. Like many, she had succumbed utterly to the powerful drugs in his semen. And then he cast aside his thoughts and concentrated on his manly duty. Soon he was forcing his hips up, raising the eager white girl off the mattress. With powerful strokes he shot his cum inside her. He collapsed as she writhed on top of him, lost in the drug induced orgasmic cloud of her desire. He lay under her for some time, as she sated her desire and joy. He let her collapse on top of him and they both napped for a time.

Monica was awakened by the lurching of the van and the slamming of the doors. He was still in her. She knew, instantly, where she was, as the engine started up and the van began to move. She should have been alarmed, but tried to ride him, instead. He pushed her off of him. He sat up, exposing both of them to the air. When he turned the light on, she took in his hairy body. She was disappointed when he reached for his clothes.

Medi spoke to Grimes and Jarvis, agreeing that they should head back to his apartment. He looked down at the stupid bitch smiling up at him. He was slipping his pants on as she tried to pull them down. “Not now, silly girl. Get dressed.” He reached down and lightly pinched her nipple. That got her moving.

Monica reached for the panties, but her conqueror pulled them away from her and shook his head. So she slid the top back over her head and wiggled into her thin pants. She hoped she did not leak too much. It was pretty obvious she had no panties on. She let her body brush against his, and was disappointed when he made no move to stay close to her. She crossed her arms under her breasts to retain some of her body heat. She should have asked where they were going, but didn’t.

When they pulled into a parking spot, Medi threw the door open, and they were, once again, flooded in light. He waited for her to slide out. Putting his arm around her waist, he steered her to the stairs. It was dark, but he was sure she was staring at him with calf eyes. Even when she looked quickly at the two men following them up the stairs, he explained nothing. There would be time for them to introduce themselves as only a man can, once he was done with her, once he was sure he had put an Arab baby in her white womb.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Monica spent the rest of that night with the little Arab and his two men. He had reserved her pussy for himself. And the two big men were forced to sate their considerable sex drives in her other two holes. She let the two men use her, something she tolerated, in the hope of being with her skinny stallion again. She would return to her dorm room, reluctantly, later in the day. She was more than eager to answer Medi’s calls, ready to do his bidding. She didn’t really like it much when he had her do other men, but it gave her opportunities to share his bed, and the incredible orgasms she always had with him.

She was able to make excuses for the morning sickness that came, for a while. But the tenderness of the breasts and the other physical changes announcing she was with child could not be ignored. When she presented Medi with the facts of her pregnancy, she wanted him to do the right thing. But he only laughed at her, and threatened to show the world her many partners if she said anything. And he would only pay for her bastard if she could prove he was the father.

Unwilling and unable to alienate him, she hung around, her stomach eventually swelling and her skin drawn tight with child. This caused great unhappiness with her family, and she cut her ties to them. She was unable to stay in school, even if her rock bottom grades would have allowed it. She moved into an shabby apartment Medi found for her. And she eagerly performed all manner of services for him and the men he steered her way. Her baby turned out to be black, and not Medi’s at all.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The remainder of the school year was a very comfortable time for Medi. He was no longer troubled by finding partners, when he needed them. Nor did he have to put up with clinging girl-friends. Whenever he needed or wanted relief, he opened his little black book. There was always the red-headed Kelly, eager to roll over either way for him. And Vickie, now a big breasted blonde, continued to service him, paid with her own money. And, of course, there was Monica. Still hopeful she could convince him to marry her, in spite of her black bastard, she was delightfully compliant to his every wish.

As the school year ended, Medi corresponded with his family. His father agreed that he should go on to Paris, stopping over only at the end of the summer. Medi thought it would be delightful to look up Connie, the one-time Marine, whoring somewhere in the Arab Quarter. He expected she would be far more practiced than she had been when he had first known her. It was always a pleasure to be with a woman who understood an Arab’s needs.