Goddamn it, what happened? My head is throbbing, and will someone please answer that knock at the door? Where am I, and why does my head hurt so fucking bad?

"Housekeeping!" I hear someone yelling, and I look towards a door. Looking around, there's peeling paint, a large hole in the wall, and it stinks. I'm busy. I shouted, hoping she would go away.

"I'll be back in ten minutes," I hear her say, "and it's time for you to go." I hear a cart moving away from the door.

Shaking my head, I try to focus.

I'm in a bed—well, more of a cot—a damp, smelly, and dirty cot—fuck, what did I do? Throwing off the sheet—well, I think it's a sheet—it is dirty and smelly; it hasn't been cleaned in some time.

I'm aware I'm naked.

I sit on the cot's edge; my ass, jaw, and pussy are all sore—what the hell was I thinking?

Standing on wobbly knees, looking around the room, I see a cot and an overstuffed chair, along with a small TV. That's it except for a small bathroom—well, a toilet and a sink.

Walking towards the bathroom, I think, "Damn, I'm so sore," and I see what's left of my clothes on the chair and floor. My dress is there, but the zipper has been ripped open, I don't see my panties or bra, and I can only find one shoe.

Stumbling to the sink, I see two Jack Daniels bottles—both empty near the edge of the cot.

I need to pee so badly, but the toilet is so filthy. I hover, facing the wall, barely touching the seat as I let loose a stream of hot piss. The sound of the piss hitting the water below hurts my head. Afraid to touch anything, I forgot about using the sink and walked back out.

I see my purse hanging on the door knob. Looking inside, I see my car keys and wallet are still there. Breathing a sigh of relief, I try to remember where my car is. I believe I drive across town to the airport bar and grill. Hearing a jet fly overhead made me think the motel was on the runway.

Shakily, I grab my dress and slip it over my head, the torn fabric not covering both breasts. One shoe—fuck, I swear—I'll have to hobble.

Looking around, it looks like a crime scene from TV as I opened the door. The bright light hurts my eyes as I step out and let the door close.

The cleaning lady is approaching and looks at me like I'm a zombie or something as I hobble away on one high heel with a tit exposed. Looking across the parking lot, I don't see my Cadillac. Hobbling across the parking lot to the front of the Bar and Grill bar, I see it parked out front.

Great, I'm thinking—all those people are going to get a real show as I hobble past the big window to my car. Opening the door, I quickly slid inside, breathing heavily. I started the car and quickly exited, heading for the safety of my home.

I start remembering things along the way. I was pissed—my ex had just told me about a trip he and his assistant were going to take to Hawaii. Would I watch the dog for him? Of course, being the humiliated ex-wife, I agreed—until he left, and then I exploded.

A little background, I married this man thirty years ago after helping him get his dental license and set up a very successful practice. I was the caring wife, taking care of his every need. I'll admit he provided a very good lifestyle—a huge home, a great neighborhood, and two wonderful daughters.

But he had a four-inch cock—when hard—and he was a terrible lover. No time for fun—only crawling into bed naked, spread eagle. His four-inch cock was right there for me to suckle. I'd suckle him till he would spill his warm milk—not much—and he would roll over and fall asleep.

So I had a vibrator, and I watched a lot of porn over the years. I didn't complain and was happy with all my committees and clubs. I admit to fantasizing about other men and women. And lately, my favorite porn has been the BBCs.

There was a huge black man that took care of the pool at our club. I used to watch him from my lounge chair as he cleaned the pool. In the hot sun, he would sweat, and his skin would glisten. His head was shaved, and he wore a pair of speedos while he worked. I'd watch as his muscles would bulge from lifting the machinery, and he would look my way with a huge grin. I could see his cock bulge through his speedos, and he loved to show it off, standing with legs spread and hips thrust forward. Oh, how many times have my vibrator and I thought about his hard cock.

Sorry for getting off-topic.

I recall taking a bottle of Jack Daniels from the kitchen and making myself a drink to try to relax. Well, that didn't work, so I told myself, "Maybe a few drinks and a quick dinner will help calm me down."

I could not just go to the corner bar where everyone knew me, could I? And I knew that it was kind of rundown over by the airport—none of my friends would be there.

On the way there, I took a few swigs of the Jack to calm my nerves. The airport bar and grill sign lit up the night. I pulled in front, locked up the Caddy, and went in.

It was like you would expect: a large bar, a few tables, and loud music playing. I started to lose my courage and was about to turn around when this nice-looking young man asked if he could buy me a drink. I smiled and looked him over—wow, six-foot-something, balding, muscular, and black. For a minute I could not speak, and he laughed and guided me to the dance floor.

Now you must understand that this place was a dump with a dirt floor and flashing lights.

He grabbed me around the waist—tightly—with my breasts pressed tight against his chest and his leg between mine as he guided me across the floor to some country western tune. He told me his name was Tom, and he was a trucker. I just smiled like a little girl at her first dance. As we moved across the dance floor, I could feel his cock growing in his jeans as he kept pressing into me. On the next song, his hands found a place on my ass, and he started to kiss my neck, which I readily accepted.

I don't know when or how it happened. I had a few drinks, but he may have put something in my drink, because the next thing I remember, we were going into this shitty space called a room.

He was on me like a demon, ripping my dress from me, my white skin glowing in the neon light. I tried to fight, and that's when he ripped my bra and panties from me. He picked me up like I was a rag doll and threw me onto the nasty cot. I remember the smell as he stood before me and stripped off his clothes. I could not help it—his cock was so black and big.

Remember, my ex's was four inches hard, and that was all I knew. He stood there and, holding his cock—which was uncut—massaged the head in and out of the skin. As he moved towards the cot, he reached out, grabbing a fistful of hair, and pulled me to his cock. I immediately opened my mouth to accept him. But he was so big, I could not, and he just pushed it in. I gasped and choked; it hurt, and I cried out.

He just laughed and began to fuck my face. As I let myself relax, I could start to suck his cock, but I still gagged when he shoved it in all the way. "Suck my black cock, you white bitch," he said, fucking my mouth hard and fast. I tried to keep up, but he ended up holding my head by the hair and fucking my face.

As he was fucking my face, he would slap my tits. First one, then the other. At first, he was gentle, but as he got closer to climaxing, he became more forceful and painful. "You better drink it all, you bitch," he cried out as he started to climax. Fuck, he just came and came—I swallowed all I could, but some ran down my chin onto the cot.

"I told you to swallow it all, you fucking bitch," he yelled. With that, he flipped me over on all fours, my ass high and my face buried in the cot. "Suck it up, Bitch," he yelled as he pushed my face into his cum and began spanking my ass. I was crying as he really started to spank my ass, it hurt so bad.

Spreading my ass cheeks, he spanked my pussy and asshole. I was crying so hard that I didn't notice him position himself between my legs. With one mighty push, he was deep inside my pussy. I screamed and started to fall forward, but he held me by my hips and began to pound himself in and out of my pussy. He knew what he was doing as I began to get into his rhythm and started to push back onto his cock, wanting it all.

"You are a fucking whore," he laughed as he started to fuck me hard and fast. As he pushed a finger into my butthole, I exploded. I could not breathe; my eyes rolled back in my head, and I swear I saw stars. I was aware that I had flooded the cot with my juices, and as he kept up the rhythm, I could feel another climax coming. He reached around and grabbed my nipples, pinching and twisting them painfully,

I screamed just before I climaxed again.

This one is more powerful than the last. I lay on the cot, soaked in my juices, his cum, and who knows what else, barely breathing as he spread my ass cheeks. It took me a minute to realize what he planned, and before I could react, I felt that monster cock probing my asshole. The pain was unbearable, and I must have blacked out. The next thing I knew, the housekeeper was banging on the door.

As I pulled into the driveway, I was both humiliated and exhausted. If people only knew what their socialite neighbor had done with a black man in a rundown motel. I left my shoe in the car and ran to the front door, holding my dress closed the best I could.

As I got my keys out of my purse, I noticed a card in the door. Grabbing it, I ran inside and closed the door, letting my frayed dress fall to the floor. Standing naked in the hallway, I could now see the bruises on my tits, ass, and pussy.

When I looked in the hallway mirror, I saw a typical street whore, complete with wild, messed-up hair and cumin-soaked lips and tits. Opening the card, I pulled out a 3x5 card that read: "CALL YOU LATER!"