atie looked out the window as the car navigated its way down a bumpy road. Bummer! she thought. We were supposed to be at the motel with Mr. J right now! But he'd decided to stay at the country club, Mrs. J had said. Had he forgotten? Katie wondered what man could forget the promise of two teenaged girls fucking and sucking the daylights out of him and out of each other. Maybe he'd been nervous about not being able to satisfy both of them? Maybe Mr. J felt so committed to Katie, he didn't want Shyla or anyone else! That must be it. Katie smiled, feeling warm all over. Next to her, Shyla was dozing lightly. Katie shook her head. Her friend had never been one to be able to hold her liquor. "How are you doing back there?" Mrs. J asked as she drove. "Doing great...." The teen felt a twinge of guilt--after all, Mrs. J's husband would soon be her husband! But her guilty feeling couldn't ruin the overall warmth that Katie felt. She felt like she was literally glowing, and floating. For a fleeting moment, the young cheerleader wondered what exactly had been in the "special" drinks Mrs. J had prepared for them, as an extra bonus for such a good job babysitting. But she didn't really care. What mattered was that she felt *good*. Making conversation, Mrs. J asked, "So, how long have you and my husband been fucking?" "Since the beginning of school," Katie answered. Doing some calculations in her head--it was hard, her brain didn't want to be bothered! "About... six months..." "And what about sleeping beauty there?" Katie patted her sleeping friend's thigh. "Uh... about two months. Me and her, that is," she added hurriedly. "She hasn't fucked Mr. J yet." "I see," Mrs. J nodded. "How long have you been best friends?" "Hmmmm for years and years and years..." the blonde murmured dreamily. "She's going to be my maid of honor at my wedding!" "And who are you marrying?" "I'm gonna marry Mr. J," she explained. To assuage Mrs. J's fears, she added, "But not till after he divorces you! And he says we've got to wait till I turn 18...." Oops, should I be telling her this? Katie thought to herself. It must have been OK--Mrs. J didn't seem in the least upset! In fact, she was smiling, Katie saw. This could all work out wonderfully for all involved. Maybe, Katie reflected, her head spinning, they'd even invite Mrs. J to the wedding! She'd have to remember to suggest it to Mr. J during their next roll in the hay... The car turned into a long driveway. Like the road they'd been on, it, too was unpaved. They pulled up to a farmhouse, and Mrs. J stopped the car. "Wake her up..." Mrs. J indicated the sleeping Shyla. Together, Mrs. J and Katie led the groggy younger girl into the farmhouse. There, the three sat down at a kitchen table. Katie had a vague feeling that there were other people in the house. She only hoped they felt as good as she did. "Now, we have a little homework assignment," Mrs J. announced. Inwardly, the young blonde groaned--to Katie, "homework assignment" had typically always translated into "remember to wear short skirt and no bra to class tomorrow". But Mrs. J was nice.... The homework assignment was neat, too. Mrs. J laid out a scenario, and both girls had to write a letter based on it. Dear mom and dad, love you very much. Shyla and I have decided to move to Hollywood to become movie stars. Don't worry about me, I have plenty of babysitting money saved up. I can't wait to you turn on the TV and see me there! Love always, Katie.... A tear ran down the cheerleader's cheek as she imagined what it would be like to leave home for real one day. The next "homework assignment" was for Katie only. Shyla was led, staggering, out of the room. The blonde grinned. Shyla and alcohol just didn't mix! This assignment was even funner. Write a letter to Mr. J, telling him what she remembered about each time they'd been together, and where, and the things they'd done. Beginning with that wonderful night he'd drove her home from babysitting, and finishing with their plans for the future. Katie had only made it to the part about Mr. J grabbing a handful of her blonde hair and guiding his cock into her mouth, when she looked up bashfully. "Um...Mrs. J? This is making me kinda... well, horny..." She felt like Mrs. J had been her friend for years--that she cold tell her anything! "Um... is it OK if I, um, touch myself while I write?" "Yes, go ahead and touch yourself, dear," Mrs. J smiled. From the other room came the sound of Shyla screaming, softly at first but rapidly growing sharply in volume. Katie masturbated furiously as she wrote paragraph after paragraph. Shyla's yelping continued from elsewhere in the house. When Katie got to the part about she and Mr. J spending the entire night together, she had to put the pen down for a few minutes. "Ohhhhh.... ohhhhhhyeah..... ohhhhhh...." she panted. Damn this felt good... Down the hall, Shyla's cries were much more vocal. "AGGGGGHHHHH!!!! AHHHHHHHH!!! AGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!! OHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK HURTS!!! AGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!" Mrs. J listened thoughtfully as she watched Katie have her orgasm. "You'd think one of them would think to shove a cock in that cunt's mouth..." The young cheerleader smiled. Shyla and liquor just didn't mix.... ------------ It was dark when Katie woke. She tried to move, but couldn't. Her hands were secured behind her back, and some kind of restraint was around her waist as well. No problem... Katie still felt *good*. After she'd finished her letter to Mr. J, Mrs. J had given her another drink. Her reward for a very good job. They'd giggled together when Shyla had stumbled into the kitchen, naked, with cum dripping from her every orifice, in her hair, and all over her firm breasts. That was the last thing the teen remembered, as it had become very foggy after that. Foggy, but nice--Katie had felt good, she remembered that much. On top of her, Shyla slept fitfully, snoring into Katie's bare pussy. Her friend's breath on her clit felt good, she reflected. Another glob of sticky cum dripped from Shyla's pussy onto the cheerleader's lips. Much different from Mr. J's taste, but not unpleasant. The only other difference was that there was a lot of the white, sticky jism flowing out of her friend's pussy and her ass. Shyla, you slut, she murmured as she begin drifting. The smell of sex was everywhere. Behind it, however, Katie vaguely sensed that there was something else... Lazily, Katie gave her friend a lick, sending another dollop of cum into her own mouth. Before she fell asleep, Katie finally recognized the other smell she'd been sensing, aside from the overwhelming aroma of her best friend's jizz-soaked pussy. The smell of pine... the kind of which shipping crates are made. ------------- Mrs. J waited. Soon, she'd be headed home. There, she'd deal with her no-good, cheating husband. She was confident that she'd get everything in the divorce--the letter which she had in her hand would put him away for years otherwise. The law didn't look too kindly on statutory rape, Mrs. J knew. She'd deal with him soon. For now, she tapped her fingers on the wooden crate and waited. Waited for the little blonde cheerleader bitch, scarcely half her age, to awaken, and to wonder aloud where on earth she was, and what she was doing in a crate, tightly bound to her best friend naked in a 69 position. Mrs. J would then tell her. She'd tell Katie about the arrangement. She'd tell Katie about the destination of the crate--a freighter in the South Atlantic, a slave ship where the two sluts would join thirty other slaves, bound for exotic destinations from which they'd never return... Mrs. J would tell everything, then listen as the screaming, begging and pleading began... Life was good.