Fucktoy

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"Whoa," Pete exclaimed, walking into the bedroom.
Amy stood over her dresser, facing her mirror as she put in earrings. Her hair was neatly arranged, and Pete could tell she was wearing a bit more makeup than usual. It was the little black minidress that had Pete's attention, however. The fabric, starting well below her shoulders and ending just barely below her ass, hugged every curve of her body. The tiny spaghetti straps were incidental but added to the absolute sexiness of it.
"What are you all dressed up for?" he asked.
"I told you. I'm going out," Amy said, turning with a smile. "Hey, can you grab my shoes… the black heels?"
"Yeah, sure," Pete muttered, walking over to the closet and digging around. "I thought you said it was a work thing."
"Well, kind of…" Amy answered. "Remember, we finished that big project. Kyle is taking us out for drinks to celebrate."
"These heels?" Pete asked, lifting a pair of black high heels. "Wait… you're going out with Kyle? For drinks?"
"Yes, those," Amy said primly, walking over to grab the shoes from his hands.
Pete froze, staring at the way the black dress clung to her firm belly and the swell of her swaying breasts. The tight fabric seemed to highlight her perky nipples, plainly showcasing them against her curves.
"And no, I'm not 'going out with Kyle,'" she continued, taking the shoes from his hands. "Kyle is taking a bunch of guys from our team, including me, out for drinks to celebrate."
"Jesus, are you even wearing a bra?" Pete sputtered.
"No," Amy snapped, sitting on the bed. "You know I can't wear underwear with this dress. It spoils the lines."
"Anyway, what guys?" he demanded to know, flustered.
"I don't know," Amy replied, putting on her heels. "Kyle just said there were four or five guys from the team and me. He's picking me up here and we're going to a club for drinks."
"Amy…" Pete started, moving to kneel in front of her so he could look her in the eye.
"Look, I know Kyle isn't your favorite person," Amy said, "but honestly…"
"He's a perv," Pete said firmly, "and I don't know if…"
Kneeling in front of her, Pete's eyes had been drawn to her long, firm legs. Then hungrily up them, under the extremely short hem of the mini dress…
"Jesus, Amy!" Pete shouted. "You're not wearing panties. I can see your pussy!"
"Now who's the perv," she snapped back. "I told you, I can't wear underwear with this dress."
"So, you're going out for drinks, with no bra, and no panties… flashing your pussy at Kyle?" Pete snapped back.
"You're the one peeking up my skirt," Amy countered, "which isn't a big deal since you've seen it. I'm not going to have Kyle looking up my skirt."
"Wanna bet?" Pete barked.
"Oh, what?" Amy yelled. "Is that what you think? That I'm going to let Kyle and a bunch of guys from work peek up my skirt?"
"I don't know!" Pete yelled back. "Damn it, Amy. You're my girlfriend!"
"Maybe I should spread my legs, really wide," she teased, opening her legs wide and causing the dress to ride up around her hips, completely exposing her neatly trimmed pussy. "That way they can get a really good look at my pussy. Is that what you think I'm going to do?"
"What are they going to think?" Pete barked. "I mean, here you are, dressed like a total slut, going out to meet Kyle…"
"… and five other guys!" Amy threw her hands in the hair. "Don't forget them. I mean, why should Kyle have all the fun with 'your girlfriend.' Maybe I'll show all of them my pussy. Hey, we're going to club… maybe I should dance with them. I'll grind my ass against them, feel their hard cocks against me. Maybe I'll let them grope my tits… or even grab my pussy… right there on the dance floor."
"With you dressed like that," Pete shouted, "I bet Kyle tries!"
"Maybe I'll let him!" Amy leapt to her feet. "Maybe I'll let him finger me right on the dance floor!"
"Why stop there!" Pete got in her face.
"You're right!" Amy stood quivering in anger. "Maybe I'll fuck him! I'll fuck them all! I'll be their little fucktoy all night long. That's all I am, right? I'm just something you own… just a fucktoy! … and now I'm going out and they can all play with the little fucktoy."
"Fine!" Pete turned and stalked toward the bathroom.
"Fine!" Amy stormed to the bedroom door. "Don't wait up!"
Pete stood in the bathroom, raging at Amy, at Kyle and, in his honest moments, at himself, for quite some time. She was gone by the time he came out, which did nothing to improve his mood.
…………………………..
Midnight: Anger carried him though several beers and flipping channels without really watching anything.
2:00 AM: Anger had given way to embarrassment and he found himself making plans for a contrite apology when Amy got back.
3:00 AM: Any thought of apology had been abandoned, replaced by new anger. Where the Hell was she?
4:00 AM: Anger had given way again, this time to worry. He had sent her a text, then another, and finally called, intending to check and see where she was and if she was alright. The texts were unanswered. The call went to voicemail, and in the end, he didn't leave one. He was uncertain whether he would sound worried or angry. He just knew he couldn't pull off sounding casual.
6:00 AM: His phone chimed, announcing a new text: Starlight Motel, Rte 6, room 114
…………………………..
The Starlight, Pete discovered when his GPS finally led him to the place, was a cheap motel near the highway, the sort with rows of rooms opening onto the parking lot. Half the place appeared to be under repair or construction of some kind. The only other things nearby looked like a gas station for truckers and a strip club.
Numbly, Pete pulled into the lot and looked around. When he spotted room 114, the first thing he noticed were three guys hanging around outside the open door. The knot in Pete's stomach which had been growing ever since he got the text got worse.
As he walked toward the door, he saw a man come out. The group of guys joked together briefly before one of the others headed inside. The man who had come out waved to the others and headed into the lot.
"114? You'll love it," he grinned at Pete as he passed.
Unthinking, Pete marched dully toward the open door. A hand on his chest stopped him.
"Hey, wait your turn, man," said one of the guys.
"What?" Pete blinked at him.
"Wait your turn," the guy said firmly.
From inside the room, Pete heard a woman moan and a man's voice grunt, "Oh, yeah."
"I gotta…" Pete started. Was that Amy, he thought.
"Look man," the guy said, his buddy glowing at Pete, "just wait your damn turn like everyone else."
"Uh, sorry," Pete mumbled, his stomach twisting sickeningly.
The guy shook his head and leaned against the wall.
Pete heard the woman's voice through the open door, "Ah, ah, ah, ah." How could he tell if it was her, he wondered, from just wordless moaning and gasping?
"So," Pete stammered, "So, wha… what's going on?"
The guys just looked at him while the grunting and moaning from inside increased in intensity.
"I mean," Pete shook his head, "I mean… what's the… uh… the story?"
"Hell as I know, man," the first guy answered. "Some slut in there just giving it up for free."
"Oh yes," the woman inside moaned. Her voice was ragged, hoarse and thick with lust. Words, but Pete really couldn't tell if he recognized the voice or not.
"One of the strippers," Pete nodded in the direction of the strip club, hoping against hope.
"No man, those whores charge," the second guy replied. "This tramp is just giving it away."
"Yeah, take it," the man inside grunted. "Take my cock!"
"Yes," the woman groaned hoarsely, "yes, give it to me."
Pete closed his eyes, his stomach knotting even tighter. "Do you know… ummm… who she is?'
"Who the fuck cares?" the second guy said. "How'd you hear about her, anyway?"
"I got a text," Pete muttered, dulled.
The woman grunted and moaned.
"Dude," the first guy nodded knowingly.
Pete shrugged. Inside his head, he was shouting at the men, storming inside and pulling the other guy off his Amy, demanding to know what she thought she was doing, berating her, listening to her beg his forgiveness as he stormed off, telling her she was nothing, just a cheap tramp who should get out of his life forever.
Instead, he leaned against the wall next the other two guys, listening to the unmistakable sounds of a woman getting soundly fucked. His stomach was a cold block in his gut. He clenched his hands behind his back to hide how badly they were shaking. Most of all, he tried to ignore the raging boner in his pants.
So he just stood there, listen to them grunt and moan and gasp for what seemed like forever.
Finally, the man inside grunted. "Fuck, fuck, fuck… take it… take… that… cum! GAHHH!"
A few minutes later the man stepped out of the open hotel room door, grinning.
"That is some seriously fine sloppy pussy," the man said, slapping one of the guys on the shoulder. "Have fun, buddy. Don't forget to leave your mark."
"Man, I've been waiting for this," the first guy laughed.
"Well don't take forever," the second guy glowered, "I've been waiting too, and I've got to get to work."
"Fuck it," the first guy laughed. "You want to tag team the slut?"
"Why not."
Pete watched, stunned, as both men disappeared through the door. He just stood there, as if paralyzed, listening to them.
"Holy shit," the second guy's voice sounded awed.
"She a mess," the first guy laughed.
"Yeah, but she's hot…" the second guy replied. "Umm, is she OK? Hey, lady? You OK?"
Pete thought he heard the woman mutter something, but he couldn't tell what. Couldn't recognize the voice.
The first guy laughed, "See, she's fine. Now I want me some of that pussy."
"Spit roast her?" the second guy laughed.
This wasn't happening, Pete thought. It couldn't be happening. He was not standing outside a cheap motel room listening to strangers fuck his girl.
"Oh shit, that's nice pussy," the first guy moaned.
"That's it, you little fucktoy," the second guy grunted, "suck my cock. That's amazing."
Pete groaned, closing his eyes. It couldn't be her. Sure, Amy did give him amazing blowjobs. Hadn't she said, when she left, that she was going to be Kyle's fucktoy? Why else would he had have gotten a text, from her phone, telling him to come here? Oh God, he thought.
"That's it," the second guy groaned. "Suck it. Take it all. Oh fuck, man, she's swallowing my whole cock."
"What?" Pete muttered, his eyes flying open.
"Oh shit," the first guy laughed.
"That's it, fucktoy," the second guy urged, "right to the balls."
"Fuck her face, man," the first guy cheered.
Pete heard a sharp clap and imagined the guys high fiving over the woman they were fucking. He grinned. The woman, not his girlfriend. Amy always gave him great blowjobs, but she had never swallowed his whole cock. She never took him to the balls or let him fuck her face. Amy wouldn't do that.
It was a trick, Pete thought. It had to be that jerk Kyle's idea. He'd hired some hooker to fuck these guys and he'd put Amy up to sending that text, because of their fight, all to make Pete think she was really going through with it. To make him think that Amy… his beautiful Amy… would really let guys use her like that. Kyle and Amy were probably watching right now, laughing at how uncomfortable, how humiliated, he was.
Pete ducked his head to hide a grin. He'd play along. That's what he'd do. He'd play along and see who had the last laugh. Grinning to himself, he leaned against the wall and listened to the sounds of fucking from the motel room. From the groaning and slapping, the guys were really going at the poor woman in there, just fucking the shit out of her.
Finally, the first guy moaned, "Oh shit… yeah… There's another load for you, fucktoy. Man, you've got to fuck this pussy."
"No way," the second guy grunted. "I want her ass. My girl won't let me do butt-stuff."
"Go for it, man," the first guy laughed. "Hey, fucktoy, you made my dick all messy. Suck me clean."
Pete could hear the men shifting around, followed by a guttural moan.
"Fuck… this ass is tight," the second man groaned over the continuing moan.
"Oh God," the woman moaned, barely managing words.
"Suck, don't talk," the first man said. The woman's moans became muffled.
It's not Amy, Pete almost laughed. It can't be Amy. Amy never let him put it in her butt. She'd said she didn't like that. Amy didn't do anal, didn't deep throat. Amy certainly didn't have sex with lines of strange men waiting outside of a dingy motel at the edge of town. So, whoever the woman in that room was, audibly gurgling around the cock that just came in her pussy while another cock pounded her ass, it could not be Amy.
Pete repeated those thoughts to himself, over and over, until he heard a guttural roar from the inside the motel room, followed by a loud slap.
"Fuck!" the second guy panted. "That was great."
"Damn," the first guy grunted. "This slut's got me almost… yeah… yeah… Fuck, yeah! Ugh! Swallow it! Ugghh! Shit… that's good."
The two guys laughed and a few minutes later stumbled out of the open door.
"She's all yours man," the first guy grinned. "Have fun."
"Yeah, she's great," the second guy nodded. "Don't forget to leave your mark."
Pete stood there, leaning against the wall, watching the two guys cross the parking lot toward their cars. It was time for him to go in. It isn't Amy, he thought desperately. It's a trick. A bad joke, that jerk Kyle and Amy were playing on him. That's all. He'd just play along a little bit more.
He pulled himself up, took a deep breath and stormed into the room.
"Amy, what the H…"
Pete froze.
The motel room was a mess, with beer cans, chip bags, even a few pizza boxes, tossed everywhere. On the large bed in the center of the mess, a naked woman lay on her belly, her legs splayed wide, her ass moving as her hips rocked slightly. She looked over her shoulder at him, with half lidded eyes, and smiled.
"Hi," she said hoarsely.
"A… Amy?" Pete gasped.
"Fucktoy," she mumbled.
Slowly, Pete moved closer to the bed, staring at her. He could barely believe it was her, looking down at her defiled body. Someone had written on her with a black marker. One of her ass cheeks was labeled CUTE ASS and the other declared SPANK ME (and the redness of her ass showed this instruction had been followed). BUTT SLUT was written on the back her left thigh, but the worst, he thought, was on her right thigh: FUCK MY ASS, followed by a series of tally marks… a group of five, and then one more. Six.
"Jesus, Amy," Pete breathed, shocked.
"No, 'm Fucktoy" she mumbled again.
Languidly, she rolled over, and Pete's breath froze. Her fingers traced across her belly, just above her pussy, which he realized had been freshly shaved bare sometime during the night. Written there, it said FUCKTOY and immediately below that FREE USE.
"See," she said stroking the words. "I'm Fucktoy."
There was more and, as Pete looked, he realized different people had must have written different parts of it. In a circle around her belly button it said FILL UP WITH CUM. Her left tit was marked SLAP and PINCH, while her right commanded TWIST and BITE. Her tits were bruised and marked, suggesting these instructions had been followed.
There was no writing on her face, at least, but dried cum crusted her cheeks and clumped in her hair. Her mouth and chin were sticky with drool and fresh cum from the guy who just left.
Unwilling, Pete's eyes dropped to more writing on her thighs. On her left thigh someone had written TIGHT PUSSY. Someone else had crossed off TIGHT and now it read SLOPPY PUSSY. The oozing, puffy red lips between her lewdly spread thighs certainly supported that. Her right thigh said simply CUM HERE with an arrow pointing between her legs. Below that was another set of tally marks. Pete gasped at the two sets of five and three more single marks. Thirteen.
"Amy?" Pete whispered, "are you…"
"Not Amy," she pouted. "Fucktoy."
"OK," Pete nodded slowly, "Are you… alright?"
"Mmmmm," she stretched languidly. "I want more… give me more. Please."
"More?" Pete repeated, stunned.
She twisted on the bed, her hand reaching toward him. "Please… please give me your cock."
"Amy…" Pete stammered as her searching hands touched his crotch. He groaned as her fingers caressed his aching hardness. He hadn't acknowledged to himself, until her hand squeezed his boner, how aroused he was by the sight of her.
"Fuck… toy…" she enunciated carefully as she continued to stroke him through his jeans with one hand while her other hand started to work at unbuttoning them.
"Fucktoy," Pete said, as he firmly took hold of her wrists and pulled her groping hands away from his groin. "Maybe we should…"
"Oooo," she pouted, "please… please, I want more. Don't you want to fuck me… you can fuck me any way you like… fuck my pussy, or my mouth, or fuck my ass. Please…"
"Yes," Pete panted. A strong part of him (currently threatening to rip its way out his pants) wanted to push her back down onto bed and do every one of those things in the most intense and aggressive manner possible. He shook his head, "Yes I… I think first you should… clean up… yeah! Why don't we get you in a shower?"
"A shower?" she looked puzzled.
Pete nodded, "Sure, we'll get you all cleaned up."
"So you can make me all dirty again," she said with a sultry grin.
"Right," Pete said, trying to pretend to himself that that didn't sound like a fantastic idea, maybe without waiting for the shower. Instead, he started to gently help her to her feet.
As she rose, she laughed, "I'm leaking… there so much cum inside me… ooohh."
Pete looked down to see a thick glob of white cum drip from her reddened pussy and fall onto the already sticky bedsheet. Grinning, she reached down and scooped up some of it onto her fingers. As Pete watched, stunned, she licked the slimy, white glob from her hand and smiled. More spunk continued to ooze down her leg.
"Ok, let's get you in that shower," Pete said with mock enthusiasm.
It took a little work to get her into the shower, and a little more convincing to put her in there alone.
In the end, Pete managed to drag himself away from watching her soaping up her naked, slutty body. Maybe she… he was finding himself shying away from calling her 'Amy' in his head, but he couldn't bring himself to actually call her 'Fucktoy' even in his own head… maybe she would feel better after a shower. He had already decided that he had to get her home. Getting her cleaned up was a start. Next, he needed to find her clothes.
Pete turned his attention to searching the mess of a motel room, with its ruin of tossed bedding, beer cans, trash and pizza boxes. Somewhere in here, he was sure, was that stupid, slutty little black dress and those damn heels. Find those, get her dressed, put her in the car, take her home, and then… no, he'd figure that part out later.
He was looking under the bed when his plan got derailed.
"Hey, where's the slut," a man's voice called out.
Pete looked up to see three guys, obviously workmen from the part of the motel being renovated, standing in the doorway. His mind raced, trying to come up with something to say to send them off, but he never got the chance.
"Fucktoy is right here." She was standing the bathroom doorway, fresh from the shower.
Pete turned and his jaw literally dropped. She was still naked, without even a towel to cover herself, and her wet hair slicked back. She was still covered in that dirty writing (which Pete had hoped would wash off). Yet somehow she wasn't some filthy, defiled ruin of a woman. She stood, tall and straight, her bruised breasts (SLAP and PINCH, BITE and TWIST) arched proudly forward, her naked hips rocking slightly, drawing their eyes downward… FILL UP WITH CUM… FUCKTOY, FREE USE. She was magnificent, glorious in her lewdness. She would permit men to use her because she was completely unashamed. She was Fucktoy.

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