That was it, she decided. It was Mardi Gras. She had just succumbed to the spirit of Carnival. Let yourself go! That was what it was about. Well, she had surely let herself go. She'd never been like this, never in her life. This was three fucks in a day, four if you counted the suck from Kit. Four fucks and they were going back to the party.
"Hey, this looks like a good party!"
Sheri felt a cold shudder pass through her body. Three men had stepped out of the shadows and were walking along with them. The blonde gasped in surprise. She recognized them. These were the hoodlums from earlier tonight, the ones who cornered the girl and were about to rape her until the cops showed up.
"No," she whispered up to Roy. "Don't let them. Please, I don't like them, don't like their looks."
"What's the matter, baby?" the leader asked, having sensed what she was saying. "You don't like it?"
"That's bad. In fact, I call that downright inhospitable. Don't you, fellas?"
"You'd think she thought we were gonna try to fuck her, wouldn't you?" the burly member of the threesome laughed. "Skit! All we want is a little company. We don't know this town. We thought you people might try to make strangers feel welcome."
Steven had dropped back beside them. Now he looked up at Roy. Sheri was relieved to see the other men gathering together, ready to aid the artist if he needed their help. They all stopped walking while Steven and Roy faced the trio.
"What do you think, Lieutenant?" he asked in a precise voice. "Should we check them out?" He turned to the hoodlums and seemed to loom over them. Sheri watched him spread his legs in a demanding stance as he faced them.
"All right, you guys," he muttered, "let's see your identification and your money."
"What the hell you mean, money?" the leader asked, eyeing the two men suspiciously. "We ain't gotta show you nothing."
"You'll show us everything when we run you in," Roy snarled. "All right, against that wall, you smart-ass bastards. We've already locked up five hundred just like you. You'd better pray you've got either a New Orleans ID or two hundred dollars on you. Otherwise you get thirty days."
The trio stared a moment. They seemed on the point of resisting, of attacking the two men in front of them. Roy reached his hand backwards as though getting something from his hip pocket. The hoods hesitated a minute, then backed away from him. They nudged each other, then turned and fled.
"Run, you bastards!" Roy shouted after them. "We'll get you. You won't make it through the night without getting picked up." He turned back and smiled broadly he clapped Steven on the shoulder. "Never fails," he laughed. "You should be on the stage. You make the most convincing cop I ever saw."
"Not me," the younger man protested. "It was when you reached back like you had a gun after cursing them out."
"What were you reaching for?" Sheri asked the artist.
"My wallet," he answered. "I have a fake badge. It usually convinces them. If they see the badge, they assume the gun. This time I didn't need it." He put his arm around the frightened girl and walked securely along the street towards his apartment.
The blonde, however, kept looking around for the trio. Sheri sensed, somewhere deep inside, that she hadn't seen the last of those three. They were trouble. They were terrible trouble. She was still shaking when Roy opened the door and ushered the crowd into his apartment.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Three of the girls lay stretched out across the bed. The others lay on pillows and pads along the floor, except for the one using the couch out in the living room. The men were fucking each of them. From the speakers, the music soared through the apartment. As each song ended, the men rolled over to the next girl. They drove their pricks into the waiting pussy as the next tune came from the stereo.
Sheri smiled up at the teen-ager whose face showed his eagerness to fuck the luscious young blonde. They had brought several of those who joined in their street fuck. They hadn't planned to, it was merely that the robust blonde had brought the teen-ager with her and followed them. So had the man who had initiated the slender teen-ager. So had perhaps another six or eight from the Bourbon Street orgy. Kit had planned this round-robin fuck. She had the taps already made up. They would keep one partner though each song, then switch for the next. They were expected to hold off orgasm until "Night Train" came over the speakers.
The teen-ager pumped wildly into her pussy. His long, lean prick seemed to reach back to the deepest recesses of her cunt. He wasn't that experienced on using such a tool, but he tried to make up in energy what he lacked in skill. Sheri wanted to suggest he try a few variations rather than just pumping joyfully at her. She opened her mouth to speak to him, then changed her mind. No need to upset the kid. He'd learn. Somewhere along the way in the next few years some girl would help him learn about his marvelous length of cock. She'd be a lucky girl, a very fortunate little cunt. The lad had all the physical endowments. A little experience and he'd be one hell of a stud.
The music changed, changed from the wild rock number to a softer, more sensuous ballad. Sheri kissed the teen-ager as he left her, then smiled her welcome to the next cock. She recognized the man who had talked the scrawny teen-ager into joining him. He looked younger in the raw. He might be in his thirties, but he had a hell of a body on him. He was lean and muscular, his rich chest hair glowing with the perspiration of a series of fucks. He slipped his prick into her soaked pussy and began moving it slowly and tauntingly. The blonde shuddered at his touch inside her. His prick wasn't that large, yet he used it so that it had her pussy glowing with desire. He moved it in small circles, letting the head flip against her clit until she was panting with surging pleasure. His hands roved across her tits, cupping and cuddling. His fingers teased her nipples until they were vibrating madly. Sheri fought back the urge to let her orgasm slip up on her. She wanted to let it go. She wanted to relax and have the roaring climax shudder through her body. She held her breath and fought frantically against responding too openly to the taunting, intriguing motions of his cock.
"What a gorgeous woman," he whispered in her ear. "I couldn't believe it when I saw you out there in the street. Honestly, I've never seen anyone so exquisitely lovely, not in my whole life. I'll tell you a secret. When I fucked the kid out there on Bourbon Street, I pretended it was you. Shit, to be honest, I've imagined every other woman so far as you."
"Mmmmm," Sheri murmured, caressing his ears and neck. "You sure hand out a line. Keep talking, though. I like to hear that kind of blarney."
"You slip away with me tonight and you'll discover it isn't blarney," he assured her. "Look, my business is beautiful women. I know when I see a one-in-a-million kind of girl. I knew it when I saw you tonight. I'd like to talk with you about that. Not tonight, I'm afraid. This is pleasure, not business."
He wouldn't have had the chance anyway. The music changed abruptly. Sheri pulled his face to hers and kissed him slowly and affectionately before letting him leave her and go on to the heavy, overeager blonde who lay beside her. She felt the presence of the next occupant for her pussy as she still watched the last man drive his cock into the ripe body of the woman who resembled her old teacher.
"Ohhhhhh!" she cried out automatically. Damn! This guy had a cock the size of a telephone pole. At least it felt that big as it rammed into her cunt. Even as lubricated as her cunt was from the series of fucks, she felt stretched by this enormous pecker. She looked up into the distressed eyes of the boy who was lunging it so tightly through her hole.
"I hope I don't hurt you," he apologized.