Secondary Education Chapter 14 Betrayal
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Secondary Education, Chapter 7 free porn video
Secondary Education
Tyla Flowers
[email protected]
Chapter 7
The Tipping Point
The rising sun paints the smoggy sky over Los Angeles fuchsia. The air
is dense with the smoke of distant wildfires. The breeze is already
hot. It stirs the trash from overflowing garbage cans and sends it
tumbling down the streets. Greasy food wrappers twirl in trash
cyclones: In and Out, Jack in the Box, Weinerschnitzel. The sight
makes me nauseous, and I choke back a gag.
My eyes sting with fatigue, the acrid air and the ebbing effects of
meth. I slip on my DG shades and avert my eyes from the sun's glint.
It's morning, and I am the last whore on the street. I have almost two
thousand dollars in my clutch. It's the most money I have ever touched
at one time. For the moment, it's mine, although I know the Mara will
claim most of it as theirs.
A battered pickup passes me, and the wrinkled, squat Mexican riding in
the open backs snarls an incomprehensible taunt and whistles derisively
as he side arms a L'Opinion in my direction. It whirls by my head and
skitters across the barren front lawn of a battered apartment.
I turn and walk up the cracked steps, for this is my home, a slumlord's
investment gone wrong on the bedraggled periphery of LA's bright and
shiny downtown. A homeless guy camps out in clump of dusty ivy by the
walk, covered in cardboard. Asleep, he looks like a harmless pile of
rags, but he reeks of urine and curdled vomit.
I pick my way through the litter and enter. The front door is propped
open with a soggy, yellowed phone book that no one bothered to pick up
or throw away. The pool is nearly empty and its walls are cracked.
The bottom is filling with debris floating on a shallow, scummy puddle.
I squint back into the sunrise, toward downtown. There, the
skyscrapers glint in dawn's light like the fairy towers of a far away
Nirvana. Will I ever see them, except from afar? I fear that I never
will, for I am a creature of the streets, not of the sky.
My calves are sore from a night prowling the streets, on high heals. My
head aches from speed's brutal aftermath. After a night of feigned
gaiety and passion, I feel empty and alone.
I need to sleep but the dregs of the coke and speed that powered me
through the night are still with me. I open the door, cross the tiny
living room to the cluttered, dirty kitchen, and look into the fetid,
empty refrigerator.
My mom has been home, come and gone. She's left a pile of unread mail
on the kitchen counter next to an empty liter bottle of Shasta Orange,
a blackened scrap of aluminum foil, and a pile of burnt out matches. I
tear open a letter from the Los Angeles Unified School District:
Dear Ms. Flowers
Tyler Flowers has not completed LAUSD's requirements for promotion to
11th Grade. He received an incomplete in Physical Education last term
at Fairfax High School. In order to be promoted or to 11th Grade he
must complete 10th Grade Physical Education in the Summer Session. In
addition, Tyler Flower's request for transfer to Hollywood High is
denied pending completion of his 10th Grade Physical Education course
at Fairfax High.
Summer session begins on June 19. Tyler Flowers must register on or
before June 16 in order to complete this requirement.
Sincerely,
Felix Rojas
Office of the Assistant Principal, Fairfax High.
My mother is such a flake. She can't read English well and she doesn't
pay attention to anything except her drug habit and the boyfriends who
supply it. If I didn't fuck up my own life so well she'd ruin it for
me.
I rummage through the pile of papers and find a calendar. It's July 7.
It's too early to call the school, and too probably too late to do
anything about the incomplete. I'll just have to drop out. That's what
Hector wants anyhow, so I can be a full time whore for him. But I
think of Mr. Knudsen, and I don't want to disappoint him by giving up
on myself. I stagger to bed and close my eyes.
The room vibrates, my head is buzzing with waves of receding chemicals
and fatigue. The speed, which had made me invincible in the night, now
leaves me edgy and desolate. I struggle out of my clothes but can't
find the strength to fold or hang them. I need to comfort myself
against onrushing waves of loneliness and fear. I am half a woman,
half a boy. But has my transition ruined my life? Will I be a ghetto
bitch forever?
I stroke my hands over my body. My breasts are sore from all of the
fondling and sucking, my ass is swollen and battered, my insides feel
clogged and achy, but I'm too tired to try to poop. My cock is limp
and shrunken and my balls have seemingly disappeared. I tuck my cock
between my legs and smooth my hand over the silky flat triangle from my
hips to my thighs and imagine, as I have a thousand times before, that
I am a girl.
I pinch my eyes closed, and try to banish the dirty street, the filthy
apartment, the terrifying night, Hector, Antoine, and the Mara, and
concentrate on my vision. In my mind, my fingers are tracing the
contours of the body of a beautiful girl.
All that I need are big boobs, not as big as Cherry's but big enough
for a man to cup in his hand, or to press into a tunnel around his
cock. I want to be castrated, to get rid of my balls forever, to
reshape my cock into a pussy, tight like my ass, but pure and clean.
Then, I am sure every boy will want me. But I will reserve myself for
the strongest and most handsome, like Matt, or the richest, and most
generous, like Eric.
I will live in a home with a marble shower and sink, and a soft, clean
bed like the one in the hotel. I will receive them in a real pussy,
and in the mouth, and the ass, and all three at the same time, and they
will worship me as a goddess, and I will worship them as gods.
I will find a way. I will never go back to being a boy. If for a time
I have to live the Life, I will do it in style, with a smile and perky
enthusiasm. But is my walk on the stroll my path to my dreams or to my
death?
A street whore lives on the edge between life and death every night.
True, it is better to be a whore for the Mara than to toil through life
as a hairy, ugly man. I decide that I will not live the life and not
die the death of a street whore. I must escape from the Mara.
I am torn by conflict. The Mara made my transition possible. They
accepted me as a girl, and gave me hormones, clothes, and protection.
But to them a trannie is a maricone, to be used and discarded. My role
in the Mara is to be their sex slave, and when they tire of me, they
will kill me or sell me off like a bag of crack or a truckload of
stolen property.
It's different when you pick your own tricks. True, Eric used me and
kicked me out on the street when he was done. But I have tasted what
my new sexual freedom can bring me. As a cute young Asian trannie, I
can have rich older guys like Eric pay me for an hour of sex what the
Mexican street traffic pays for a long, dangerous, and cold night of
back seat blowjobs. I am going to find, and get fucked by every one of
those rich older guys that I can.
I dry mouth a Diane and a couple of Tylenol PM and close my eyes. As I
wait for sleep, I imagine myself at work in one of those glimmering
towers I spied in the dawn, the object of desire of a hundred Eric's
and Hal's. I can be that girl, if I can make myself free of the Mara.
As I drift into a dream, my fantasy of freedom becomes plan of escape.
I awake with a blinding ray of sun in my eyes. It's late afternoon. I
have become nocturnal like a feline. My phone shows five missed calls,
all from the same 323 number. I push redial.
"Hola, TChica, where have you been?"
"Getting my beauty sleep after long night. Did you find the black guy
who killed Jose?"
"No, but we found another black ho who's never doing nothing again."
Hector cackles laughter.
"I'm sorry I missed the show. But I was putting on a show of my own."
"I want to hear all about it. I'll send Cesar over to pick you up."
I pop another Diane, and quickly shower and dress, skimpy Lucky
cutoffs, lavender glitter tube top, bare at the belly, platform shoes,
my little silver jacket. I am still putting on my eyeliner when Cesar
calls.
"I'm not quite done. Do you want to come up?"
"No, there's no place to park."
"Don't you want me any more?"
"Of course I do, baby, but so does Hector. He told me to hurry."
I hear a lie in his voice, and decide that I don't care about him, or
any of the rest of them. I finish my eyeliner in a rush. Then I hide
half of my earnings from last night in hole in my mattress, and run
down to meet Cesar.
He still has bruises around his eyes from the beating in. I get in and
stroke his face, "Poor baby," but he barely looks at me.
"What's the matter? Don't you like the way I look?"
"You look hot. You're too hot for me."
"You don't want me because I'm a ho? That's what you made me, when you
gave me to the Mara."
"We're both just soldiers now. I have to be elevated before I get
privileges."
"I'm a privilege?"
"Hector doesn't want us together, says it will interfere with his
plans, and my progress."
"What's his plan?"
"To sell your ass to some pimp in Rosarito."
"I won't go."
"You won't have a choice."
"Take me away."
"Then we're both dead. Just do what he says. He's crazy now that
Jose's gone. Mara's at war with the Crips now."
Suddenly, I hate Cesar for his cowardice and weakness, Hector for his
duplicity and viciousness, and all of the Mara for their macho posing
and brutality. I am just a couple of holes for them to fuck and sell.
They have as little regard for me as for a half-used vial of Ice. I am
just something to use up or sell. I am glad of my plan to get free of
them.
We pulled up in front of Bella Casa and Cesar lets me out. Pineapple
nods silently as I flounce by, and I flash a sexy smile and wag my
butt. I need to feign complete loyalty and enthusiasm.
Hector's tawdry courtiers are gathered around him at the rickety
linoleum table.
I approach and put my clutch on the table before him. He opens it,
grabs the money, and counts it, muttering out loud."
He looks up and gives me a golden smile.
"Excellent, T Chica. You were my top performer last night."
"Rookie's luck, boss. I found the right groove."
"And the Mara took part of your competition off of the streets." He
whips out his cell phone and flicks it open. It displays a picture of
a dead black girl, her face obliterated, lying in a pool of blood, legs
akimbo, on the sidewalk. She's so mutilated that she's unrecognizable,
but her blood spattered clothes look familiar. I wonder whether my so
called comrades have just killed my new friend.
"Why did you kill her?"
"That's our new rule. To get made a jefe in the Mara, everyone kills a
mayate."
I am disgusted by this macho hubris, but hide my revulsion behind a
smile.
"Kill a few more ho's, maybe I can raise my rates."
Hector laughs and slaps my ass. "I like your attitude. I'm going to
change my plan for you. I'm going to keep you on the home team instead
of trading you down to the Mexican League."
I feel a rush of relief. But I keep up my act. "Oh, too bad, I love
Mexican food. Especially the burritos."
"We got plenty of pupusas for you here, don't we?" He slaps my butt.
"Aren't burritos bigger?"
"Ha-ha. You're funny, TChica. But burritos are soft and soggy, like an
old Mexican."
"Pupusa means 'for pussy,' right?"
"Ha-ha, I like you T Chica, even if you did get my ayudante Jose
killed. You can stay here for now, as long as you keep bringing me a
thousand buck in the morning." Hector brandishes the stack of bills
and grins.
"And if I'm in Mexico I can't help you find the black who shot Jose."
"You didn't help us much last night. I don't think you want to find
the mayate fucker, the fucking dung beetle."
"No, I thought about it, and I have a plan. I have a way of getting
back into Fairfax High. I'll look around for him. I know I'll
recognize the black bastard when I see him."
"I thought you dropped out of Fairfax."
"They want me back."
"What for, you gonna blow the whole football team?"
He grabs me and forces my head down toward his crotch. I don't resist,
but look up and smile.
"That could be part of my plan."
"OK, tell me the rest."
"It's easy. I have to make up a class there. So I go to school,
figure who he is, where he hangs out, and how he gets around, lead you
to him, and you whack him."
"If he sees you, he'll whack you first."
"He won't even recognize me. I'm going back to school as a boy."
"That reminds me. Does anyone want to fuck the maricone before she
goes back on the stroll?"
"I'll fuck anything with a hole in it." I turn to see Pineapple. He
must have followed me in from his post outside. I cringe, but keep it
inside and affect cheer.
"OK, anyone else? I'm in the mood for a threesome, OK?" I am afraid
of Pineapple and think a third player might make the game more
predictable. But he grunts "Everybody else waits."
He grabs my arm and pulls me toward the bedroom and throws me on the
bed.
"You don't have to be so rough. I want to get fucked, Pineapple. I
like it." It's a white lie, of course. No sane person would want to
be fucked by this greasy pig, who smells of bad food and a week of
dirty underwear and sweat. But I am in a role, playing the loyal
Marita.
"You are my first of the day, so be gentle. Enter me slowly, and then
fuck me hard."
"OK, but I'm on guard duty, and I'm in a hurry."
"So am I." I sit on the bed and pull his pants to his knees. He is
already hard.
"Mm, that's a big cock." He's uncut, and the glans bulges beneath the
sheen of his moist foreskin.
"Do you want me to just blow you? S'ok if you cum in my mouth."
"No, I want to cum in your ass."
"OK, then fuck me."
I grab a condom from my clutch and roll it on, and then squeeze some
lube into my palm. I stroke his cock, and he grimaces.
"Stop or you'll make me pop."
I wipe the rest on my ass.
"Baby, save it for me." I can tell he is on the verge of coming.
I get on the bed, hoist my ass, rub the lube on my butt, and slip my
panties down my thighs. His cock presses against my ass, and he
thrusts, but I am too tight. It glances off its target and slides up my
crack to the small of my back, smearing me with a slick of lubricant.
His balls slap against my buttocks.
I grab some more lubricant, reach back and take hold of his cock.
"Let me help you."
He grunts assent.
"Now, take me slowly. It will be better for both of us." I guide him
to the center of my ass and circle the tip of his penis on the taut
ring. I press back against and press open my outer sphincter, and
twirl his cock around until it hits the second ring. I try to ease him
back out, to accustom myself, but he can't control himself and suddenly
jerks forward. My fingers slip, and his cock head barges through both
rings of my ass and buries itself deep into the loops of my colon.
In a moment, the cascade of pain electrifies me and I collapse to the
bed as he rams me with the full length of his cock. He pulls back
almost all of the way out, so his bulging glans strains against my
outer sphincter, and then smashes deep inside me again. His balls slap
my buttocks. He has entered me to the hilt on his second stroke.
I bite the pillow as my eyes water. I try to force a groan of pleasure
but pain renders me mute. I bury my face in the pillow and try to
breathe, to relax, to endure the agony until it releases me, and
transmutes first into calm relief, and then pleasure. But Pineapple is
either a selfish or inexperienced lover. He never slows his pace
enough for me to synchronize my movement to his, and before I can he is
reaches that stuttering chaotic sprint to his finish. I know he is
cumming as he buries himself deep, almost straight down, cock to my
navel. I feel him release and plunge and release again, crying out like
a coyote in a frenzy, before settling in flabby lump on top of me, and
heaving his stinking breath into my face. I lie still, and keep my
face buried in the pillow. I don't want to look at him, or for him to
attempt a kiss. I want this foul creature to leave me.
He gets up. I hear the clank of his belt buckle and the shuffle of his
boots on the floor. "That was good. You like my cock in your booty?"
"I love to get fucked all day and all night. You have a big cock."
"You have a tight little ass. I never fucked in there before."
"Have you fucked pussy?"
"Yeah, but I like booty better. It's tight, you sucked my cum out
fast."
"You were really fast."
"That's how I like it."
His condom has fallen on the floor. He points to it. "Get rid of that
thing for me." Then he leaves. I pick it up with a tissue from my
clutch and wipe the smear of lubricant from my ass with another. I
open the door. Pineapple is gone, Hector is gone, but a four of the
Mara are lounging around the kitchen table. My ass feels empty, and I
need something to take away the memory of Pineapple's lousy breath and
greedy sex. I approach the rickety table where they are pawing over
the fragments of some chips and residue of salsa.
"Does anyone else want some of my booty?"
Crazy 8 slides his chair out and leers at me. "I never thought I sink
so low as to take sloppy seconds after Pineapple, but what the hell."
He takes my hand and we walk back toward the bedroom.
"I'm not sloppy. Pineapple comes so fast, he barely warmed me up. I
need you to finish me." I wrap my arm around his chest. Young
Salvadoran guys have awesome pectorals, knobby and hard. It's strange
that as old men they become so flabby.
He hugs me back. "So you're hot for my big dick?"
I am tired. I loathe Crazy 8. His cast eye disgusts me and his mood
swings are scary and dangerous. He is a rough and selfish lover, like
all of the Mara. I'd rather shower off Pineapple's residue and get
fucked by someone new who can pay for my company than spend another
minute with these dangerous losers.
But my plan requires that the Mara to have great trust in my loyalty to
them. I pause at the threshold of the bedroom, turn and call back the
group at the table. "Stick around; I'm hot for all of you." I close
the door, kneel on the floor and as I unzip Crazy 8's fly, I silently
thank Buddha that that only three of the Mara have stayed behind to
hear my offer. I am happy to let all of them fuck me, for when I am
finished with them, no one will doubt my loyalty. Then, it will be
easy for me to lead them to slaughter.
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