Virgil pulled over to the curb in the small suburban village. With Foley's fresh copious load still glazed on her eighteen-year-old face, Bethany was told to exit the car and parade herself down the sidewalk, displaying the result of her services to passersby. She begrudgingly complied.
After about fifteen minutes of this public "humiliation," Virgil stopped at a corner she was approaching and Foley popped open the rear door and called her in. "You guys can be real bastards sometimes..." the young cheerleader lamented.
Foley and the rest of the guys just giggled like school kids. "Jist havin' a little bit of harmless fun wit' ya' is all, Beth...be happy we didn't make you do a cheer." Virgil kidded, "Still love us?"
She looked up and smiled, "Yeah, how could I stay mad at a car full of huge black cock. So now what?"
"Actually," Virgil said, "We're going to take you home. But Foley's got a request."
"Yeah. I wants some new blood. I want ya to bring one of yo' girlfriends into da picture, if ya knows what I mean. Pick out a pretty blonde and git her to come with yo' to my house on Saturday afternoon. And be sure she be over 18. Yo' could tell her I gots weed yo' wanna buy, if ya think that'll help ya git her there."
She thought for a moment. "Yes, I guess I could probably convince a friend to come along with me," Bethany said as she wiped the cold cum from her face with a tissue Foley provided. She remembered her neighbor, Kristy, a freshman at NYU, was home now on summer break. She was nineteen, blonde, with a great body. She was sure Foley would approve of her.
Bethany was dropped off several blocks from her house so not to arouse suspicion of her new friendships. At home she began to work on Foley's plan. Kristy, she thought, yes, Kristy might be the perfect blonde to introduce to Foley. Kristy was an old friend who had a fondness for smoking weed so it would hardly be a challenge.
Later that evening, she phoned Kristy and did a bit of catching up before making plans to meet for lunch on Saturday. Being a year older than Bethany, she was more mature, having lived away from home for a year. Kristy picked Bethany up that Saturday and drove to a trendy cafΓ©.
Kristy looked absolutely stunning. Her body was more attractive than Bethany had remembered. She wore a tight fitting aqua blue t-shirt that tied at the right hip. Her breasts, although not as large as Bethany's, were ample and well-rounded. But it was her form-fitting jeans that drew mens' gazes because they showcased a perfect bubble butt. So shapely were her double bubbles that they almost called out for a hand to caress their oval moons. Quite simply, she possessed an ass to die for.
They made casual conversation, when suddenly Bethany blurted out--"You still like getting high, Kris?"
"Oh, yeah," replied Kristy dreamily with a mischievous grin, "but I'm fresh out. You don't have any weed, do you?"
"No, but I know a guy who does."
* * *
It was a quick drive to Foley's. The girls walked up to the front door and Bethany knocked. She was greeted with a friendly hello from Foley. Bethany made the introductions and Kristy seemed a bit apprehensive. Bethany sensed it and quickly tried to move things along. "Say, Foley, you have any weed we could buy? Like that stuff you always have me smoke?" Bethany said with a wry smile.
"Sure, sure, girls, I gots some o' dat stuff." Foley sat down at the kitchen table. "Why don't you young ladies have a seat and minute and let ol' Foley finish his drink."
The girls sat at the table. Kristy still seemed a bit nervous. His face was vaguely familiar to her. Foley caught her staring. "Somethin' wrong, miss?" he asked.
"No," Kristy replied.
Bethany sensed that Kristy might have remembered Foley from high school. "I think Kristy is trying to place you. She probably doesn't remember you as the school custodian. Am I right Krissy?"
"Oh, yeah, that's it. Now I recall."
"Oh, good," said Foley. "'cause I thought it was 'cause I was black that made yo' feel jumpy."
"Not at all," lied Kristy.
"So Black folks is okay wit' yo'? Yo' ain't prejudice?"
"No, Mr. Foley, I'm certainly not a racist."
"Good, glad to hear it. And please call me Foley."
The janitor downed the rest of his drink and went to a kitchen cabinet. He returned with a cigar box which he set on the table and sat down. Lifting the lid, he pulled out a joint and passed it to Kristy. "Why don't yo' girls sample the product first, see if yo's liking it."
"Great idea," agreed Bethany.
They fired it up and took deep drags off the joint. After three hits each, the girls were feeling the effects. "Wow, this is some good shit, Foley," commented a buzzing Kristy, "but aren't you going to try some?"
"Naw, never durin' a business transaction."
"How much for the bag in the box?" asked Bethany.
"Well, like Kristy said, dis is good shit. It'll cost ya hundred bucks."
"Wow! That much. I don't know if we have all that much."
"How much yo' gots, ladies."
Kristy had a ten dollar bill and Bethany had 3 bucks and change.
"Sheee-it! Yo' ladies ain't worth my time. But I'll tell yo' what. Since yo' both from de ol' high school, I give yo' a deal. If yo' finish dat joint and can handle smokin' another blunt, I gives yo' the bag."
"Really?"
"Fo' real, girls."