It was her first important assignment, her first time overseas and her first encounter with a foreign language. It was also her birthday.
Happy twenty-third birthday, Lacey thought.
Landing in Manila on September twenty-third, Lacey considered Manila not such a bad city. The people were nice, the streets were fairly clean, and she enjoyed the food. She didn't get sick from the water. But after a week, she was shipped off to Davao, to the factory's location, and Davao was no Manila. Davao was not even Tijuana. To Lacey, Davao was the armpit of the Philippines.
Her first days in Davao were a girl's worst nightmare. (Short of being raped and murdered.) The cottage had no electricity and no running water; it took two days to get the power turned on. Three days more for water. Until then, Lacey holed up in a rat- infested motel, desperate for escape. On hindsight, she thought she might have preferred the rats.
The air conditioning consisted of three window units spread throughout the house. The only one in service was the one in the bedroom (thank God for that), which was where she spent most of her time. The roof leaked over the utility room out back, and there was a continually expanding circle on the ceiling of the second bedroom. She had neither cable TV nor satellite service, and it was only on the ninth day that her telephone worked. Then, at least, she could log on.
Thank God, for AOL.
On the tenth day, Saturday the twelfth of October, Lacey celebrated her birthday. Alone. She lighted a single candle atop a Sarah Lee pound cake, and making a wish, blew it out. She had no friends in Davao and other than one girl at work (who brightened Lacey's world immensely by inviting her out for a birthday dinner), the rest considered Lacey an interloper. No one locally spoke English and Lacey knew no Filipino at all. The only bright spot in her life was knowing that Kenneth was just as miserable.
Saturday morning, Lacey slept in, enjoying the relative comfort of her bedroom. She leisurely masturbated, nude except for her panties, which gradually migrated down her thighs to her ankles. That's where they stayed, where Kenneth would like.
Just over five feet five inches tall, Lacey had coal black hair and eyes, a razor thin nose and a wide, but thinly-lipped mouth. Her breasts were comically small, bearing pea-sized nipples and aureole barely large as a dime. Her genitals were free of hair, including that area surrounding her anus, into which she had placed a finger.
"You need to get up," she murmured.
Right, Annie replied.
Anne was Lacey's middle name, and her inner companion. With her since childhood, Annie was her best, and sometimes only friend.
"Don't make me hurt you," Lacey said.
Rolling onto her stomach, Lacey let the finger inside her coax her hips off the bed. They continued to rise until Lacey was in a halfway raised position--her favorite. Then she inserted the middle finger of her left hand into her vagina, and played finger-tag through her flesh.
You are such a dog, Annie said. Give me a camera!
"Shut up," Lacey mumbled. Her eyes were shut and her breathing forcibly slow; she was long practiced at remaining aroused. Kenneth often filmed her that way. "I wish I had my dildo," she moaned.
I wish you did too. The guy looking in the window would just love that up your ass.
Lacey shook her head. "The window is closed."
Guess again, hon.
Lacey opened an eye. The blind was half-raised and the curtains open. As usual, Annie was her insufferably, correct self.
"No one can see in," she equivocated.
Yes they can, Annie said. You better listen.
The fingers came out of Lacey's behind and vagina. She turned over and sat up. When Annie said to listen, Lacey usually did. About some things, Annie was invariably right.
"Did you see something?" she asked.
Annie said: Not saw--heard.
"What did you hear?"
"A ladder?" Lacey repeated. "Where?"
Lacey got up and threw on her robe. She went into the kitchen. Suddenly, her breathing was very labored. "Oh, please," she said. "Please don't tell me."
The day before, her landlord had promised to send out a crew. Taking half a day off, Lacey set all afternoon and fumed. Only at four-fourty five did she call. Of course, the bastard was apologetic.
"I am sorry Ms. Kincaide," he had said.
Lacey cut the man him off. "One o'clock, you said! No later than two, you said! I waited here all afternoon! I missed important work! My supervisor will kill me! He already yelled at me this morning!"
In truth, Mr. Herrera had called her a ninny. A stupid ninny. He berated her in a manner, which no American boss ever had. Since first meeting him ten days before, Lacey had fought his constant advances, growing more alarmed--and repulsed--by the day. Herrera was an octopus with hands. With everything she did, he found fault. He had threatened to can her. With this latest fiasco, she understood that nothing stood between her and his office couch if she hoped to keep her job. Come Monday morning, baring a miracle, her mouth would envelop his penis.
"Ms. Kincaide," the landlord said. "I am sorry for your anguish. I will try to get a crew out first thing in the morning. I promise."
Lacey had laughed in his face. "I don't believe you!" she cried, a total deviation from Lacey behavior. "You better have them here Monday morning, you ass, seven o'clock at the latest, or I'll sue your ass!"
Then she had slammed down the phone.
"I don't see anything," she said now, looking out the window. Nothing was visible save the slatted wooden fence bordering the neighbor's yard.
Out back, Lace. Not the fucking side yard.
"Okay, okay. No need to get testy."
Opening the door to the utility room, Lacey went inside. Windows either side of the small room showed no one in sight. "Satisfied?" she asked.
I know I heard something, Annie said. I didn't make it up.
"I didn't say you did. You were just mistaken." She shut the door and locked it. "Can I go shower now?"
You may take a bath.
Lacey felt a thrill. "A bubble bath?" she asked.
I should punish you with cold water.
Lacey stuck out her lip. "You wouldn't do that."
Annie said nothing.
At home, one of Kenneth's favorite diversions was listening to Lacey talk. She routinely carried on a conversation, sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours on end. She talked about her day at work, her favorite TV shows, even Kenneth's latest demands. The most amusing thing was not that she seemed unaware that she did it, but how she kowtowed to herself--or to Annie, whichever was worse. Of the pair, Kenneth often wished he were fucking Annie.
Postponing her bath, Lacey cleaned. She scrubbed the in-need-of replacement kitchen floor, straightened the living room, changed her bedclothes, rearranged the shelves out back, and scrubbed the back porch. All save for the back porch she performed in the nude. For the porch, she donned a bikini top and shorts. Then she took her bath.
"What do you think of Andre?" she asked, playing with her ruby-colored nipples. She teased them into full attention.
Annie sighed. Okay, I guess.
Andre was the plant foreman, and the cutest man there. He had eyes for Lacey Kincaide.
"Okay?" she said. "Just okay? I think he's delicious."
He's also married.
So, he's married. Not that it's ever mattered before.
"Hey!" Lacey objected. "That's nice!"
You want nice? Buy a puppy.
Teasing up soap bubbles around her nipples, Lacey played hide and seek. They slowly appeared through the foam.
"You know how horny I am?" she asked.
I think this morning made it pretty clear.
Lacey thought of herself on the bed, playing finger tag through her flesh. Then she thought of Andre Mercurio, observing her through the half-open window. She slid way down in the water. She blew bubbles with her mouth.
"Nineteen days," she said.
I know how long.
"I haven't been nineteen days without sex, since I was twelve."
You are disgusting, Annie said.
Lacey stuck out her lip.
Right. Your answer to everything.
Lacey slapped the water. "I can't help it!" she cried. "I'm horny! I need a dick!"
You need a good spanking!
"That too!" she cried. "But I need a dick first!"
Truculently, Lacey crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. "I want my Daddy."
Towel drying her hair, Lacey went into the kitchen. She wanted a coke. She was very much aroused. Her nipples ached. She throbbed deep within her organs. Counting backwards on her fingers, Lacey understood why. She was ovulating.
Well gee, girlie-girl. Big surprise there.
Lacey was about to shoot back a reply when she spotted two men through the kitchen window. She nearly freaked.
Ducking down beside the counter, Lacey hurriedly covered herself up. "Holy God!" she said. "What are they doing out there?"
The men were in the side yard, inspecting what Lacey guessed was the living room air conditioner. They had either had not seen her, or they didn't let on. Peeking out the glass, Lacey wrapped herself in the towel and headed back to the bedroom.
The front doorbell rang.
"Shit!" Lacey said, afraid to move. Either side of the door was a row of small-paned windows. Through them she saw someone stoop and peer in, then put his hand to the glass to shade his eyes. The doorbell continued to ring.
"Shit!" She repeated.
With nothing on but her towel, Lacey was not opening the door. But, there was that damned face at the window, and now he was waving at her, making Lacey's embarrassment even worse. Then someone pounded on the door. Lacey made a fateful decision. Chagrined, she clasped the towel tightly around her, and went to the door.
"Si?" she demanded.
There were eight of them in all, mostly wearing t- shirts and jeans. One man, a darkly tanned Filipino in his late thirties, had on a badly knotted tie. He stepped forward from the group. He touched his forehead.
"Por favor," he said. Then he switched to accented, but perfectly understandable English. "We are the work crew, sent to fix your air conditioners and roof."
"At four o'clock in the afternoon?" Lacey asked. It was closer to four-thirty.
The man shrugged. "Si. We only finished our last job an hour ago--" he conferred rapidly with a man to his left "--but the work took longer than we expected. The owner, Senor Martinez, insisted that we come. I always honor Mr. Martinez's wishes."
Lacey nodded. Her own run-ins with the landlord were anything but sweet. Still, she hesitated.
"We can come back tomorrow," the man said. "But we might not be able to get parts. If anything should need repair."
Lacey was stuck. Getting the job completed today-- even at this late hour--meant not missing work Monday morning. "Okay," she said. "Come in."
Introducing himself as Enrique, the man then identified Miguel, his crew chief and Manuel, the roofer. The six other names Lacey immediately forgot.
Miguel, who looked about Lacey's age and was wirily built (all the men were wirily built) and had a tool belt slung over his shoulder. He would see to the air conditioners, along with one other, while Manuel tended to the roof. Lacey said fine and headed for the bedroom.
At this point, things could have--should have--gone well. But Lacey's clothes, laid out on the bed before her shower, were badly wrinkled. As she set up the ironing board and unwrapped the iron's cord, the power went off.
Disgusted, she went out to the front porch. Leaning over the railing, she called: "What's going on?"
Miguel, removing the air conditioner's cover, shook his head.
"You speak English?" she called.
Miguel shook his head.
Miguel indicated Enrique had left.
"Great," Lacey sighed. "Who speaks English then?"
They all shook their heads. Lacey's stomach began to burn.
As best she could, Lacey determined that the power would be out for an hour. Why they had pulled the plug entirely, she couldn't discern. It was not something conveyable with sign language. She closed the door and retreated into her bedroom.
First trying to smooth out the wrinkles by hand, Lacey tried stretch-ironing her clothes. That didn't work. Then she considered grabbing her discarded clothes from earlier that day, but they were sweaty and covered with dirt. Disgusted, she pulled a t- shirt and a pair of shorts out of her drawers. She prepared to put them on. Just as she removed the towel, however, there was a commotion from the living room, and Lacey wrapped the towel back on.
From her bedroom door, she saw that Miguel had pushed the air conditioner into the room. Much larger than Lacey had imagined, it canted forward from the casement, ready to fall. There were shouts from outside and suddenly one of the crewmen burst through the front door. He rushed over to the dangling unit and, struggling mightily, hauled it to a horizontal position. Veins stood out on his face; his muscles bulged. Looking around, he found Lacey standing in the hallway, and motioned her forward.
"Me?" Lacey asked, a finger touching her chest. You must be kidding!
The man nodded.
"No way!" she said, shaking her head and hands.
But the unit dipped lower as the seconds went by and the man began to look desperate. Lacey, torn between her modesty and fear of loosing the unit, came forward. "Mother fuck," she whispered.
Taking up position on the other side of the unit, Lacey grabbed the frame. The machine was incredibly heavy. No wonder he looked ready to burst, she thought. Together they brought the unit back level and slid it into the casement. Halfway in, the unit stuck.
While Lacey held most of the load, the workman-- Morito was his name--kept one hand on the chassis and the other trying to fix the slide. Lacey grunted when he released the unit entirely.
"Can't someone else do this?" she complained. The weight made her bend at the knees.
Morito, carrying on a shouted conversation with Miguel, outside, ignored her words. Then, to Lacey's horror, the towel began to loosen. She jammed her breasts against the compressor and her hip against the chassis.
"Hurry up!" she demanded.
Morito, reacting to her heated words, looked up. He blinked in confusion, then grabbed the machine. Then he released it again to grab a wrench and a pry bar passed in by Miguel. The unit sagged lower, forcing Lacey down too. Her towel loosened almost to the point of letting go.
This is not happening! she frantically thought. She looked down and saw her left nipple. Oh, Jesus! Oh, Jesus, no!
"Morito!" she yelled.
Morito looked up and blinked in confusion, then laughed. Lacey lost her temper.
"I'm dropping this thing!" she yelled. "Right on your foot!" She started to count, got only to two, and then her towel worked free loose. With a swiftness that made her heart flip, the towel fell away and puddled at her feet. She looked at Morito, who looked at her, and then she let out a shriek.
This is not happening! This is not happening at all!
But it was!
With a surge of panic, Lacey dropped the machine and grabbed for her towel. Left unsupported, the unit began a backwards slide and reaching the halfway point, overbalanced and fell. Lacey shrieked as the machine swung hard against her shoulder, knocking her flat on her can. Then she shrieked again as she yanked her feet clear the machine crashed to the floor in a shower of dust and debris, burying Lacey's towel. She sat there, naked and spread wide, while Morito stared dumbfounded at her crotch.
Lacey thought: This is it. This is the nightmare I had in junior high. This is getting caught outside the girl's locker room with no clothes on and having everyone laugh. Then she thought: No, this is having Jimmy Maclane and Bobby Rideour and Andy McCall taking pictures of me through my bedroom window and sending those pictures to all their friends and to my friends as well, and then finding them in my own e- mail.
Miguel and two others stared wide-eyed at her through the open casement, and then Manuel rushed in through the back door, a helper right on his heels. She had just begun to cover herself when the seventh and final worker burst in through the front. Everyone stopped dead. Everyone except Lacey, who screamed at the top of her lungs as she covered herself up and ran frantically to the bedroom.
What happened up to that point was unfortunate, but forgivable. What happened later was not.
The workers, amused by Lacey's plight, joked the rest of the afternoon. Manuel took his men back on the roof, and before sunset arrived, had found and patched all the leaks. Miguel discovered the air conditioner to be undamaged and, after repairing the slides, remounted it in the wall. Aside from needing a charge of Freon, it worked just fine. At seven o'clock, when the work crew finally left, the living room was practically frigid.
As you might expect, Lacey was devastated by the event. For a time, she hid behind her bedroom door, tucked into a shivering ball. She fought hysteria and hyperventilation. Finally, she did what all women do to maintain their equilibrium in a sex-crazed world: She adjusted. She coped. She contended.
Getting to her feet, Lacey put all thoughts of what happened out of her mind. She hummed to herself, softly. She lowered the blinds. She plugged in the iron and spent half an hour ironing her clothes. Then, still totally naked, she stood by her bed and examined her white cotton slacks and peach colored top. Then she began to laugh.
Oh, my God, she thought. Did that actually happen?
In commiseration, Annie said: I'm sorry. I'm afraid it did.
"I am so embarrassed."
You have a right to be, Annie said. Even I wish I weren't there.
Putting her hand over her mouth, Lacey said: "Did you see their faces? My, God, Annie! I showed them it all."
Annie couldn't stop laughing.
Lacey repeated, "I am so embarrassed."
Facing her chagrin, Lacey dressed and left the bedroom. She stood at the end of the hallway, red faced and insecure, watching Miguel and Morito.
As soon as they saw her, everyone laughed.
"I am so sorry," she said. Her face, were she to touch it, would surely burn her fingers. She apologized again, and so did the workers.
At six o'clock, she fixed them all cokes and something to eat. Morito, famished, gulped the sandwich down in four bites and Lacey just had to laugh. They laughed along with her.
Over the next hour, Lacey and Miguel grew to know each other fairly well--as well as pantomime and hand signs would allow. Miguel showed her the inner workings of the machine that had nearly killed her, and Lacey explained--or tried to explain--what was wrong with the washer and dryer. The kitchen faucet she forgot.
By seven o'clock as the men prepared to leave, Lacey felt a growing chagrin. She could not deny her growing attraction to Miguel, and she felt it from him. She also felt, had either one spoken the other one's language, Miguel would have asked her out.
Three blocks from Lacey's cottage was an eatery called Reynoldo's. There, she and Maribel ate. Lacey had smoked Mullet and seasoned vegetables, while Maribel ate a local dish Lacey could not pronounce and would never eat. At nine o'clock, after walking Lacey home, Maribel disappeared into the night.
At nine-thirty the doorbell rang. It was Miguel, Manuel, and three of the others.
They all carried cameras.
It took a while, but Lacey eventually grasped it was she they wanted to photograph. Flabbergasted, she poked her own chest.
"Me?" she said.
To her mortification, they made Lacey understand.
"In the nude?"
They all nodded yes. They understood what nude meant.
Aghast, Lacey shook her head, no.
The men argued among themselves, then Miguel made digits with his hand. "Two hundred dollar," he said.
Lacey laughed. "You've got to be crazy!"
The men argued some more. Finally, Miguel took out his wallet and extracted a trio of one hundred dollar bills. He raised his eyebrows.
"No," Lacey said.
But between her thighs, something had stirred. She shifted uncomfortably.
"Listen," she said, motioning to the door. "You guys better go."
Miguel pulled another from his wallet and Lacey, exasperated and surprisingly hurt, wanted to scream, "No!" But, she also wanted to say yes. If for no other reason than her frustration and disappointment.
So much for him liking me, Annie, she thought. He's no better than the others.
Fuck this joker, hon, Annie replied.
Fuck him is right! Fuck him and Kenneth and Martinez and especially that son-of-a-bitch Herrera!
Instead, Lacey shook her head.
Frustrated, Miguel took her hand and placed in it the four one hundred dollar bills. He added a fifth one hundred dollar bill. Five hundred dollars to pose.
"No!" Lacey exploded, pointing at the door. "Now get out!"
Then Miguel said, "One thousand dollar," and Lacey stopped dead.
A thousand dollars? To pose in the nude?
Annie said: Go for it, girl!
And Lacey did.
At the small bar, Lacey brought out her full array of bottles. A fifth of Jack Daniels, a bottle of wine, and a fifth of Philippine whisky. She took out six glasses.
"Help yourselves," she said.
Miguel and one of his helpers, Roberto, fixed their drinks straight up. Antonio and Juan, who belonged to Manuel, made theirs with water. Manuel asked for a beer; Lacey pointed him toward the kitchen. Then she poured a shot of Jack Daniels for herself, and drank it neat.
Miguel looked up from his camera.
Moving her hands one over the other in a negative gesture, Lacey said: "No sex. Understand?"
Miguel grinned, but nodded his head. He repeated Lacey's words: "No sex."
"None," Lacey said. "Nada, Nine, Kaput."
Miguel nodded again.
"Okay," she said. "What do I do?"
Indicating Lacey should remove her shirt, Miguel raised his camera. As she undid the buttons, and drew her shirt aside, Miguel, Antonio and Roberto fired away.
What, Lacey wondered, am I doing?
In just her brassiere, Lacey moved this way and that, posing with determination, if not much grace. She felt so utterly weird. Miguel, seemingly an expert with the camera, directed her actions. Soon, Lacey had warmed to the job and began to lithely pose.
"I need to shut the blinds," she said. Arms currently over her head, and her belt unbuckled, Lacey felt eyes staring in.
Miguel shook his head.
Pointing to the window above the air conditioner, Lacey made closing motions. Miguel shook his head, no. She put her hands on her hips. Did he not understand? Or did he not care? Or did he want them to see?
Pursing her lips, she said. "Fine. Whatever you want," and unzipped her pants.
From all directions, shutters snapped and flashbulbs burst; Lacey continued to pose. When her pants were off and she wore only her panties and bra, Lacey whispered, "He's going to make me to take them off. I don't want to take them off." She knew exactly how a centerfold felt.
Instructed by Miguel to sit down, Lacey sat in the middle of the floor. He had her recline and stretch out her legs. For the next five minutes, Lacey did everything but expose herself.
But she knew that was coming
"This," she muttered, "is utterly gay."
Focusing his lens on her crotch, Miguel had Lacey lean far back. She drew up her knees and spread her legs wide. Then he made her spread them some more. He motioned her to draw aside her panties.
"I won't do that," Lacey said to them, softly. Then she did.
Oh, my God, Annie. What have I done?
Annie remained silent. Lacey could sense her fear.
Coming in for a close-up, Miguel photographed Lacey's crotch. Then he shot her from different angles, always with hands in the shot. She did whatever Miguel said. She put in a finger, then a second. She alternately wanted to cry, and to laugh out loud.
I am such an ass!
Calm down, Lace! Annie warned. She sensed Lacey's panic. It's not as bad as you think.
How bad does it need to be, Annie!
Going to one knee, Miguel placed his hand on Lacey's right hip. Knowing what he intended, Lacey lifted her butt. Miguel took off her panties. She began to shake.
Okay, smart ass! What do I do now?
Just try to hold on, okay? It'll be all right.
All right? Annie! I'm gonna fuck five guys!
Do only what you want to, Annie said.
I don't want to do anything! Lacey wailed. Then Miguel removed her brassiere.
Shooting her from every angle and direction, the men encircled Lacey. They had her on her back, on her sides and on her stomach. They concentrated on her small breasts, making Lacey jut them forward. She teased her nipples erect. She wet them. And all the while, Lacey's arousal and fear factor grew, hand in hand.
I'm going to fuck them.
Is that what you want?
That's what my insides tell me.
Then do it, Lace.
Flat on her stomach, head on her right arm, Lacey waited. When Miguel indicated for her to raise her rear end, Lacey complied. The room became very still.
Moving directly behind her, Miguel shot from low level, moving slowly away. Lacey rose higher in increments, chest flat to the floor, her hands by her sides for support. She felt like a Hustler centerfold.
"I want to stop," she whispered. She continued to rise.
Eventually, Lacey could rise no more. Her tail, now fully splayed, lay bare her anus. Cool air kissed its surface. Antonio and Juan captured her from behind and she could here their ragged breathing. Miguel's cock showed clearly through his pants. He was powerfully erect.
"You are in trouble," Lacey whispered. "So much trouble." She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Roberto was stripped to his thong. He was huge. The outline of his cock ran ten inches in length, maybe longer, maybe as long as a foot. The head was a form all it's own.
"Wait!" Lacey exclaimed, beginning to panic. She tried to rise. Manuel restrained her. He sat beside her on the floor and put an arm around her shoulders; he elicited a smile. "Is okay," he said, in broken English. He also, was stripped to his thong.
After a dozen shots, Miguel had Manuel remove his thong. Manuel was big--not the size of Roberto--but big enough. Eight inches long and cocked sideways and down, his thick penis ended in a small head. Veins, like jagged streaks of lightning, ribbed the shaft; the color was a bruised purple.
"Wait," Lacey said, again.
The remaining four stripped off their clothes. Each wore a thong. When Roberto removed his, Lacey nearly died.
"Wait a minute!" she choked. Her heart trip-hammered and her stomach clenched.
A foot long and three inches wide, Roberto's cock was nearly beyond description. The head was the size of a large plum, and the same color. It looked like a dinosaur's head. The shaft was monstrously veined and bulged hugely in the middle. It looked deformed. What orifice could possibly take that? she thought, wildly.
"I can't do this! I have to go home!" she wheezed, backing away. To her horror, Manuel took himself in hand and began to stroke. Breath lodged in her throat. She began to shake. Then Manuel laughed and the laughter spread to the other three. They continued to shoot.
"Please," Lacey begged. "Let me go." She looked from one man to the other, shaking.
Roberto, his testicles swinging obscenely side to side, motioned to Juan, who took up position behind her. Antonio moved behind her as well, and then Manuel. They struck a pose; four waving erections and glittering smiles.
"Let me go," she pleaded. "Please."
Then they pretended to fuck her.
Antonio, holding his penis right at her mouth--its aroma made Lacey lightheaded--made vulgar noises in his throat and snickered like a horse. He was the smallest of the group, a mere seven inches. Juan, nine inches long and proportionally thick, pretended to stick himself into her rear. Everyone laughed.
Then Antonio touched her lips.
Unsure if it were intentional or not--Antonio jerked nearly as badly as she--Lacey yelped. The men exploded in sudden agitation and everyone yelled. Lacey understood nothing. Miguel, flushed and angry, berated Antonio, gesticulating with his camera. Sensing things would totally unravel, Lacey put up her hand. The men grew silent.
"Look," she said, slowly. "I'm petrified, but it's what I want to do." She raised her eyebrows, questioningly. "Do you understand?"
Miguel blinked, then nodded slowly.
"I have to do it on my own, though," she said. "Or not at all."
Miguel nodded again.
Going back to all fours, Lacey leaned forward and took Antonio into her mouth. He exclaimed loudly. His penis contacted and swelled. Lacey trembled in shock. Unsure what else to do, Miguel took pictures. The rest did as well. Lights snapped from every direction.
Telling Antonio to sit, Lacey dropped to her elbows and took his cock in her hand. Antonio reclined to get a better view. Lacey masturbated him and began to suck. She used her lips and her tongue first, then began to lower and raise. She coordinated her movements with her hand. Antonio's testicles rose up and down as she stroked, and Lacey caressed them with her fingertips. She kissed each one and drew it into her mouth. She sucked them gently. Antonio rubbed her head.
I like this, Annie said.
I like it too.
Will you swallow his come?
Do you want me to?
Annie didn't answer.
Lacey thought of the millions of tiny sperm, awaiting her decision.
Moving behind her, Manuel put a hand on Lacey's back, the other on her rear end. He asked permission, and Lacey moved beneath his hands, consentingly. He placed the head of his cock in her crack, stopped on her anus. Lacey moaned. She closed her eyes and sucked Antonio's cock.
I'm afraid, Annie.
I'm afraid too.
I've never had one this big, she thought. Not there. Not in my ass. She jerked in sudden pain.
Ouch! they cried, in unison.
Miguel sent Roberto to the kitchen for some lubrication, and he returned with a bottle of oil. Juan took the bottle and lubed the head of his cock, then the puckered circle of Lacey's anus. He worked himself in. It still hurt, but not so bad that Lacey could not bear it. She began to rock back and forth. Manuel took her more deeply.
My God! she thought. This is incredible.
Annie replied: Don't go going hog wild, okay? This guy is small. Juan and Roberto are monsters. Miguel might be too.
Will they all want my ass?
Annie laughed. Do men want anything else, nowadays?
Concentrating her will, Lacey ignored the discomfort in her rear and concentrated on her mouth. She worked Antonio slowly into her throat, forcing flat her tongue and opening her jaw wide. The head blocked her throat, then went inside. She gagged
"Easy girl," Annie cautioned.
Lacey relaxed her throat. Her gag reflex eased.
Better, Annie said. Can you take him all?
Lacey took him all.
At her other end, Juan pushed deeper inside. He felt mostly in. Slowly, holding her behind, he moved himself around in Lacey's ass, and she began to relax. Pain gave way to discomfort and discomfort to pleasure. Manuel began to ride her.
They would sell these pictures to a web site, she knew, and every eye that wanted to see, anywhere in the world, would witness her sodomization. She should ask for more money, she thought. Or a portion of the take. Set up her own web site, maybe. Wouldn't that be brave?
Things became frenzied and soon reached a crescendo. Lacey let go of Antonio's cock and placed both hands on the floor. Manuel rammed her behind. She made atrocious noises. She began to come.
Oh God! Oh God, Annie! Jesus God!
Manuel began to come and tried climbing atop her. Her rectum screamed. He came again, harder, and Lacey felt his gushing sperm. It was very hot.
Oh God Annie! I'm coming! I'm coming! Oh Jesus Christ I'm coming!
Then Antonio was coming also, and jammed himself into Lacey's mouth. Come shot onto her tongue. She swallowed convulsively, fighting a gag, while Manuel came in her ass.
Oh my God! Oh my God! This is not happening! This is not fucking happening!
Annie could not reply. Her mouth and rear end were otherwise engaged.
Lacey never asked for the pictures, nor any more money. No one important would see. No one important to her, anyway. It was enough knowing that those with interest could observe her with Manuel, Antonio, Juan and Roberto.
As for Miguel, he was doting and kind and truly immense. Lacey sat in his lap for a long time that night, willing him in. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and sometimes cried. Miguel kissed away her tears. Language was not a barrier, only her pain.
Afterwards, they lay together in Lacey's bed, spooned together, his cock buried deep within her ass. It stayed there all night. In the morning, Miguel removed himself gracefully from her bed and left. Except for occasional trips to the bathroom, Lacey remained where she was all day.
In another four months, Lacey returned to the United States and rejoined her estranged boyfriend, who soon thereafter gave Lacey good reason to wish she were still in the Philippines.