Strange Days Rewind

Carl Jenkins was a powerful man—and he knew it. As the CEO of one of America's biggest telecommunications companies, Jenkins had money, status, influence, and control over the lives of thousands of employees who depended on his intelligence and charisma to keep bread on their table. He also had access to the finest things that money could buy—expensive toys, beautiful women, the finest clubs and restaurants, a gorgeous home, and, according to everyone who knew him, a "perfect" family. His lovely socialite wife was the envy of every man in town, his oldest son was a BMOC at his own alma mater, Princeton, and his young daughter was well on her way to being the valedictorian of her expensive private academy in downtown Manhattan. Yet somehow, it wasn't enough. Carl was unsatisfied, and worse than that, he was bored. What's left to do or buy once you've done and bought everything?

But this was before he met Lenny. Lenny, the "magic man," who offered him something he didn't have, something he couldn't buy...until now. He first met Lenny at one of his favorite clubs; or rather, lingering outside the back door of the club, where only the VIP guests were allowed to enter or leave. At first, Carl thought he was just some lousy pimp or dealer, looking for wealthy targets for whatever scam or "product" he had to offer. Carl had seen them before—well-dressed hustlers who preyed on the boredom and idle curiosity of men like him. He'd never paid them any mind—he was too important, and too satisfied with himself, to need the services of such low-lifes. But tonight was different. Tonight his boredom had reached a fever pitch; so much so that even the flashy nightlife, the expensive entertainments, and the willing companionship of a much younger woman (one of his own executive's nineteen year-old daughters!), couldn't take the edge off of his restlessness. He'd pawned her off on one of his cronies (much to her chagrin), and left the club disgusted with his own indifference, anxious to find something more...stimulating. So when Lenny approached him, and began talking in that rapid-fire, yet hypnotic voice of his, Carl didn't immediately shrug him off, or tell him to go to hell, as he usually would. He hesitated, he paused, he listened—just for a moment...a moment that would change his life forever.

Lenny told him about "the latest thing," the newest experience, one that only those with the right "resources" and "connections" could enjoy...one that Lenny could provide. This got Carl's attention. Wasn't he a man of resources and connections? Wasn't he someone who enjoyed (and deserved) the most exclusive pleasures? What could there be, in the pockets of this two-bit tramp, that he couldn't have? He listened as Lenny told him about "clips," about "jacking in," about the unbelievable possibilities of cerebro-cortical stimulation that could allow you to experience anything and everything imaginable—even things that you couldn't safely experience in your "real" life. Recordings from other people's brains, their own experiences pumped directly into your cerebral cortex, so that you could be there, seeing the sights, feeling the feelings, performing the deeds, without ever leaving your bedroom. All you needed was a player, a clip, and the cash—the first two, Lenny could provide, the last...well, what did Carl have if not money? It was tempting—damn tempting. He'd heard about such technology from his R&D people—government stuff, highly restricted, but like most things, available for a price. He'd seen the entertainment potential, but hadn't really had time to explore it—not until now, at least. So, he was intrigued. But it might not have been enough, if Lenny hadn't noticed one thing.

Lenny knew that Carl was a man who indulged himself, who saw what he wanted and took it. There were very few "experiences" that Carl couldn't obtain on his own, without the help of technology, much less the services of a man like him. But there were a few things—things that Carl couldn't, or wouldn't, go out and get on his own—things that might have been dangerous for a man of his status and profile to indulge in—risky things, illegal things, "immoral" things. This is what Lenny, and only Lenny, could provide for him, and he knew it. Lenny took his time, guided him through the paths of his own imagination, his own desires, his most hidden fantasies—hinting, encouraging, affirming the fleeting images and taboo thoughts that floated through his brain. It was too much for Carl. He couldn't hide his own curiosity, his own excitement at the thought of actually

doing

those forbidden things that he'd only fantasized about: beating another man senseless for the pure pleasure of it, taking one of those uptight bitches that he met at his wife's social gatherings by force, fucking some tiny white slut with a huge black cock, as he'd seen in magazines and videos all his life. He could actually DO it! And Lenny could help him.

The deal was made, the money exchanged, and a small "starter" clip was left in his possession, while Lenny went off to procure his "special order," to be provided at their next meeting. Now Carl sat alone in the back of his limo, clip in hand, his adrenaline pumping with sheer excitement and anticipation. His hand actually shook as he examined the label on the outside of the clip: "Marisa and Black Tom." Lenny had promised that he'd be VERY happy with the trial, and even promised him a free clip next time if he didn't completely enjoy himself. He could only imagine what he was going to do to "Marisa" tonight...but, of course, he didn't have to imagine it—it was right here in his lap, ready to go!

Carl leaned forward and told his driver to cruise around the park for a while, until he was done with an important "phone call." Then he rolled up the dark window that separated his compartment from the driver's, and eased himself back into the comfortable accommodations. Following the instructions that Lenny had given him, he placed the mesh helmet over his head, connected it to the player beside him, and popped in the clip. Then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes while fingering the "play" button...with a quick tap, the player snapped on and Carl jerked back in his seat as his mind spun out of itself....

*****

The first thing Carl was aware of was the cold air against his skin, and the strange sensation of being both chilled and warmed by the awareness of his nakedness. It was like stepping out of an air-conditioned room into the warm sunshine, licking at your body like an eager lover. This pleasantly erotic feeling washed over him in a moment...but suddenly, it was replaced by the terrifying awareness that he was choking! His throat was constricted around what felt like a huge fleshy log that cut off his airway and filled his mouth and nose with a musky scent that reminded him of damp moss. His eyes snapped open, only to be greeted by a hard brown wall of flesh and curly hair pressed firmly against his nose and lips, as the thick cylinder moved even further down his already gagging throat. "What the fuck!" he tried to say, but it came out simply as, "Mmgh-mm-fmm!" He tried to pull back, to free his face from the oppressive smothering force. But a powerful hand clutched the back of his head, tangled in the long reddish-brown locks that he could feel and see out of the corners of his eyes, flowing over bare white shoulders and tickling the tips of two tiny rounded breasts, and pulled him irresistibly forward, further impaling his helpless mouth on the giant flesh-pole.

"Son of a bitch! I'm being face-fucked! What the fuck is this?!" Carl's mind whirled in rage and confusion, knowing that something was very, very wrong. But despite the rebellion in his brain, his soft, unfamiliar body, and small, delicate mouth surrendered itself utterly to the dark member that forced itself slowly down his throat. "You like that, don't you cock-slut?" he heard in a deep, masculine voice somewhere above him, "You like that big black meat, don't you?"

"Mmm-hmm..." he heard himself mumble, unbelievably! What was he saying? Of course he didn't like it! He was no fag, and had never sucked a dick in his life! He wanted to pull away, scream out—"You filthy nigger!"--to fight back in some way. But in

this

life, that wasn't to be. Instead, he felt himself raise two soft delicate hands up behind his attacker, clutching at the muscular black ass, and then pulling those powerful hips forward, taking the last inch all the way down into his hungry gullet.

Lenny—that piece of shit!...He'd sold Carl the wrong clip!...Or had he?...What if he'd he done this on purpose? He'd fucking pay with his ass, if Carl ever got his hands (or the hands of some "hired help") on him! If only he could turn this thing off...get out of this fucked-up fantasy...but that's when it hit him. Lenny hadn't told him how to turn it off! And Carl hadn't thought to ask—he figured he'd be playing it to the end of his night with "Marisa." Little did he know, he'd BE Marisa! Now he was stuck in this perverse sexual nightmare, and he had no idea how long it would go on. He was going to be "Black Tom's" bitch for as long as it took to get to the end of the clip!

Carl slid his tongue back and forth along the underside of Tom's cock, feeling every ridge and crease, tasting the salty-sweetness of the pre-cum and saliva that lubed his dark lover's passage. Tom still clutched a knot of hair at the back of his neck, and used it to pull his head back and forth in rhythm with his own thrusting hips. Carl's lips were locked tight around the black shaft, and he slurped greedily as Tom pumped himself in and out, creating a wet sloshing sound that made Carl feel sick. Or, at least, part of him felt sick. Another part—the "Marisa" part—felt hot and giddy with excitement.

She

was sucking her first black cock, too, but for the young teen, it was the fulfillment of a lifelong fantasy, one that made her knees quiver and her heart flutter. She was enjoying a big black daddy, a complete stranger that she'd met at a dance club, and she was so turned on that her cunt dripped juices down the insides of her milky white thighs. She couldn't get enough—and she was ready to be Tom's personal slave if it meant getting to service that cock all night long. And now, Carl was along for the nasty ride!

"Oh, yeah...that's right little girl...suck that cock...you know you need it...you know you love it...you want some nut don't you?...you wan't Tom to give you some nut, baby?" Marisa/Carl pulled back with a long slurping sound, sliding her young lips over the massive brown head, and giving the tip a quick wipe with her tongue before answering in a breathless, childlike voice,"Yes, daddy...I want it...I wanna taste your cum...I want you to fill my mouth...please, black Daddy?" Then she plunged her pretty mouth back down over Tom's now-throbbing meat-pole with renewed energy, licking and sucking like a hungry whore. Oh, Jesus, Carl thought. Please don't tell me I'm gonna have to taste this big nigger's cum! "Fill my mouth?" Is that what he'd said? God, I'll be sick! Or would he? If Marisa liked it, would he? Would his mind reel with pleasure as much as disgust? Would he grow hungry for it, as she was? The thought terrified him. Was he going to become a fag because of this?

He was certainly acting like a happy little cock-sucker now—lapping and nibbling at Tom's dripping pole like a baby deer going at a milk bottle. Carl became aware of a slightly pinched feeling in his chest, concentrated into two points where his tiny, girlish nipples grew hard with excitement and pleasure. Marisa was in heaven! It was the naughtiest, and most taboo thing she'd ever done—not only servicing a perfect stranger in some cheap motel room, worlds away from her upper-class suburban home, but sucking the monstrous dick of a dark, filthy, lower-class black man; a man her father would treat with scorn, and that her teenage boyfriend would look on with hateful envy. If they could only see her now—naked, on her knees, debasing herself before her ebony god, while he defiled her baby-doll mouth with his loathsome cum-drenched phallus. She was going to milk this night for all it was worth, so that the next time she kissed Josh, she'd be able to imagine giving him a mouthful of Black Tom's warm jizz. Hell, maybe she wouldn't even brush her teeth until then!

With that thought, Carl's greatest fear became a reality as he suddenly felt Tom clutch his silky auburn hair and pull forward with an animal grunt. His lips and throat clenched around the thick black shaft as a hot, sticky liquid exploded into his welcoming mouth. His eyes flew open in horror, and he braced himself for the gagging vomit that he knew was on its way. But to his shock and disgust, he didn't vomit—instead, he uttered a sweet, muffled moan of pleasure—"Mmm! Mmmm....."—and swallowed deeply as Tom continued to pump his warm load into Marisa's greedy orifice. She swirled her tongue around as much of Tom's cock as she could reach, and sucked vigorously, draining his heavy balls of every last drop of semen. "Tha's right...tha's my babygirl...Tom's little cum-slut...what would yo' daddy think of you lil' girl?"

Carl felt a surge of anger and irritation as Marisa pulled back, releasing Tom's cock from her lips with a wet slurp. A long, thick string of cum hung suspended from the head of his cock for a moment, and then fell away and flipped back under Marisa's pouty lips and dribbled down her chin. "My father?!," she said with disgust, slurping the little string into her mouth like a noodle,"My dad's a bigger cock-sucker than I am! He'd probly give you better head than I did!" Tom chuckled with delight. "Damn, lil' girl, you sho' do hate yo' daddy!...That's all right...'cause Tom's takin' care o' you tonight! You ain't got to go nowhere...'cept back in the bed where you belong!" With that, Tom smacked her face playfully with his deflated dick, and rubbed the remaining dribble across her pale white cheek, causing Marisa to giggle. Then she squealed as big Tom reached down under her arms and lifted her off her knees like rag-doll. Before she could catch her breath, Carl felt them both flying into the air, and then landing with a bounce onto the big queen-sized bed. "Fuck this!," he thought angrily, "he's using someone's daughter like a filthy whore, and she's loving it! She's actually

happy

to be at this big nigger's mercy!"

It was true—Carl could feel the quivers of fear and excitement in Marisa's breast. She was terrified, but loving every minute of it! This strange, dark giant of a man could do anything he wanted to her—he could use her, rape her, even kill her—and there'd be nothing she could do about it. But rather than run or scream, Marisa could only giggle with pleasure and terror. It was

so

hot! No one, not even Josh, had ever made her feel this way—helpless, excited, scared, and so wet and horny she could barely keep her legs from gnashing together, and her fingers from trying to milk her already sopping pussy. But Tom forbid her to touch herself or to get herself off—he wanted to do it all his own way, and in his own time. He'd tortured her for hours already, getting her so excited she was ready to pop, and then forcing her to pleasure him instead, or just sit there, watching him play with her tits and pussy, but never quite to the point of orgasm. It was exquisite torture—the kind that left her hungry for more.

But now it was her turn at last! Carl felt a nervous chill in his gut as he lay there, helpless in Marisa's soft young body, panting with desire. He had no idea what was coming next, but he'd already had enough! Choking down that nasty nigger's cum was enough to keep him puking for days...if he ever woke up from this nightmare! As it was, he could only lay there, quivering like a scared bunny, about to be devoured by a predator. Big Tom crawled up onto the bed like a stalking panther, grinning wickedly at the tiny white girl. Suddenly, he gripped her ankles and wrenched her long, slender legs apart. "Oh!" she yelped in surprise, as Tom pulled her knees further apart, exposing her wet, tender snatch to his leering gaze. "Wha's this lil' girl?...you all wet and nasty!...look at that leaky cunt!...somebody needs to clean you up!"

"Oh, please..."

"Please what?...please what, bitch?!"

"P-please...please clean me up daddy..."

"Clean you up?!...Why would I wanna clean you up, you nasty slut?"

"Please, black daddy!...Clean me up with your big tongue...Lick my pussy daddy...please!"

"He-he," Tom was clearly pleased with his little rabbit's pleading. He liked his white girls scared and horny at the same time, and this one was plenty o' both! He lowered his dark face down to her soaking snatch, and gave it a long, animalistic sniff. "Mmmggh!" he growled, and gave it a long, quick swipe from crack to clit that sent little Marisa into spasms of pleasure. "Oooooohhh, yes daddy!...Please!...Do it again!"

Carl couldn't believe his own thoughts or feelings at that moment, but Jesus, that felt good! He'd never once imagined what it must be like for a horny girl to feel a long hot tongue slide across her pussy like that. But if Marisa's reaction, and his own mutual shiver, was any indication, this was one of the most electric pleasures that a woman could experience. Especially when she was as worked up and excited as this little twat clearly was! As Tom lowered his face between her legs and began lapping like a thirsty dog, Marisa writhed like crazy, moaning and thrashing with every plunge of his serpent-like tongue. Pure pleasure exploded in Carl's head, blinding him with lustful torment. His mind reeled with disgust and horror, but despite that, he didn't want it to stop! Along with Marisa, he was bucking and heaving his hips up into Tom's swirling tongue and trying to get it deeper inside him. He wanted to reach up and pull Tom's curly black head all the way in, but Tom, anticipating this, had shifted his hands to grip Marisa's wrists and hold them firmly down under her thighs. Her legs were thrown up over his massive black shoulders, so that she was momentarily at the mercy of his teasing tongue and thick flapping lips. But Carl and Marisa seemed to simultaneously reach the conclusion that by wrapping her thin, white legs around his neck, and tugging fiercely, she could bring that delicious mouth a few inches closer. At first, Tom resisted, being more than strong enough to counter her feeble efforts. But finally, mercifully, he consented to bury his face in her pussy, and let his tongue drill into her heaving cunt. It was, to Carl, like being filled with hot, wet jelly that tickled and enveloped your g-spot from the inside in a way that no man (other than fags, of course) ever got to experience!

Carl couldn't begin to comprehend his own sensations at that moment. It was like his mind and pussy were on fire, but awash in cold water at the same time. He wanted to scream, "Stop!...Stop it, you fucking...big...black...ungh!...oh...god...Ungh!" Tom slurped and slathered Marisa's pussy like a thirsty dog; he licked it up and down, pried the sopping lips open with his fingers, spat on her tiny clitoris, then dove in with his writhing tongue, sending Carl into spasms of delight. His body began to shudder and jerk, and felt a hot wave of pleasure roll up along his spine, straight to the back of his neck, where his pretty reddish hair stood on end. A long moan escaped his throat, and he heard himself gasp out, "Yesssss!...Ohh...Yess!" His hips twitched, his eyes rolled back, and he came in a long trembling shudder. It was amazing...and disgusting! He couldn't believe that he was enjoying this degradation, this helplessness. He was squirming and squealing like...well...like a little girl!