Mary Jenkins - Innocent in Chicago Volume Two

She felt his huge, erect penis begin to jerk wildly in her mouth and his sperm began to shoot into her, deep into her throat. She sucked it harder, hoping to keep his climax going while she jerked out her own.

"Oooooohhhhh… aaagggggghhh," she gasped, as she felt the walls of her vagina contract and expand around the monstrous, delicious prick that was worming around salaciously inside her contracting belly.

She gasped and the penis in her mouth slid out, but she was cumming and she could think of nothing else.

"Oh yes… yes… I'm cumming… I'm cummmmmmming!" she almost screamed, bucking her hips up against his pounding organ.

"God, she's hot… yes… sooooo hot," the other man moaned as he, too, began to jerk his cum far up into her belly. Each stroke drove deeper and deeper and he pulled her hips up toward him until her knees were pinned back against her chest.

"I'm cumming… I'm cumming, too…" he groaned, as the last of his spasms exploded deep inside her.

The three men and Cynthia lay exhausted, breathing heavily on the floor, trying to regain some composure.

When they began to stir, Conrad addressed the group.

"Gentlemen… Cynthia, my love," he said, "I'd like you to meet Fred Johnson."

He was referring to the gentleman who had just come into the room, whom she had seen while the men were making love to her.

The men got to their feet, pulling on their trousers hurriedly and trying to look presentable, but obviously embarrassed.

"Don't worry, gentlemen," the new man said, "It's the little lady that I'm interested in."

She looked up at him and then back at Conrad, trying to see in his face who this man was and what he wanted.

Conrad continued, "You see, Cynthia, since the police already think you've turned whore and since you told me that I was your only customer, I thought that Fred here might show you the ropes and get you a few more. We can't disappoint the law, now can we?"

She stared at him in disbelief, disgusted and completely humiliated by his triumphant smile.

"There is no reason why Fred can't share the wealth. After all, I owe him a few favors and I've decided to make him a present of you. You can make him a very wealthy man."

"But… what about Frankie," she stammered.

"Oh, you can continue to live with him for the time being, but believe me, unless you play ball with Fred, you will be in a world of trouble and so will Frankie. Do you understand me!"

She nodded and blinked back tears that were welling up in her eyes. So they were going to turn her out… turn her into a common whore… a prostitute.

It was almost ironic, however. She had never thought of herself that way, yet she had taken on the three friends of Conrad's and enjoyed it!

She resigned herself to his command. After all, she had no choice and maybe she could make some good money to help she and Frankie get out of this awful mess.

Hesitantly she got up and walked to the bathroom, taking her clothes with her. She splashed cold water on her face, hoping that she would wake up and find out that it had just been a bad dream, but she could hear the laughter and the voices coming from the other room and she knew that she was in too deep now to ever get out.

She walked back into the living room and sat down, her head in her hands. She felt nauseous, half from the martinis and half from disgust. She didn't know how she would be able to explain this to Frankie. He had never actually tried to turn her out to go with any man who had the price, even though she knew that she could make a lot of money. Frankie had always done alright on his own through his connections in the dope scene, but now it looked as though she was going to have to go with any man that Fred told her to. Harris was acting strangely towards her now. She knew that this was just his way of protecting himself in case she would ever have to testify. If the police had witnesses that she had become a prostitute, she wouldn't stand a chance.

The men didn't even seem to notice that she was sitting there, they went on with their conversation completely ignoring her. She was embarrassed, humiliated and completely ashamed as she got up and went to get her coat.

"I'm leaving now," she barely whispered.

"Night," they called in unison.

"I want to see you tomorrow morning back here," Fred said, Harris nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, okay," she answered, and opened the door and ran down the hall to the elevator.

The cool night air felt refreshing on her face, but the filth that she felt inside could not be cleansed. She walked to the nearest phone booth and called Frankie. He told her that he had just gotten in and that he was going over to Shoo-Fly's apartment and that he would meet her there. She was hardly in the mood for a party, but maybe it would take her mind off what had happened earlier in the evening.

She wasn't far from Shoo-Fly's apartment so she decided to walk rather than take a cab, besides, she needed time to think things out. She just couldn't tell Frankie, but she would have to think of some excuse so that he wouldn't become suspicious if she had to be away overnight, and that wouldn't be easy! She knew that Frankie would be leery of her actions since she had left him for a day or so, just a few days before. She pulled her coat closer around her and hurried down the street to Shoo-Fly's apartment.

Shoo-Fly's "mistress" opened the door when she knocked and "he" whisked her into the living room where just a few people were sitting around, listening to records, smoking pot and talking. Frankie was not there yet so she decided to help herself to a joint and relax on one of the many cushions that we're scattered around on the floor. The acrid smell of the smoke permeated the room and she could already hear muffled giggles coming from another part of the house. Typical Shoo-Fly party, she thought to herself.

Finally Shoo-Fly appeared in the doorway and gave her an enthusiastic embrace.

"Welcome, you sweet thing," he giggled. "As you can see, it's the same old group!"

She looked around to see if Al was there, but he was nowhere in sight. She lay back on the cushion and let the marijuana take its affect. She didn't need much since she had been drinking martinis in the afternoon and earlier that evening. The music vibrated and spun in her head and she was about to drift into a hazy twilight when she heard Frankie's voice.

"Well, there you are, my love," he said, "I've missed you today," and he bent over and gave her a warm kiss.

She looked up at him tenderly, thinking that she would do anything in the world not to hurt or worry him.

"Sit down, love," she said, patting a place next to her on the cushion.

"Just a minute, let me get a joint," he added, and walked to the bar and took one from a silver cigarette case and lit it.

She looked around the room and spotted Carla, the ex-stripper, who had first introduced her to "H". She had not tried it since Shoo-Fly's last party, but she wasn't getting the affect from the pot that she usually got and thought that maybe later she would try it again.

"Hi Carla," she called out. "Haven't seen you around. Where've you been?"

"Just around," she said, "what's new with you."

Cynthia got up from her cushion and walked over to her, meeting Frankie halfway across the room.

"Be back in a second, sweetheart," she said. "Carla," she inquired, "do you have any more of that white stuff with you tonight?"

"Sure, honey. You want to try some? Not getting the same kicks you were before, eh?" She laughed, a drug-high laugh.

"Well, yes, that's part of it. I just need something to make me forget I'm alive!"

"Things bad? Thought you and Frankie were thick as thieves now."

"We are, that's part of the problem."