The Journal Of A Young Escort Ch. 2 free porn video

The next day after my tryst with the waiter at Vic’s Coffee Bar I got up earlier than I normally would have on a Saturday; I had set my alarm for eight in the morning.  I got out of bed and went into my kitchen and plugged in my coffee pot.  I loved coffee in the morning and used an old electric percolator.  I just thought it made better-tasting coffee than the automatic drip.  The smell of the coffee made me think of Vic’s Coffee Bar, which made me think of Rodolfo, and that made me think of being such a slut and getting fucked in the alley.  I frowned with regret.  Oh, I didn’t regret having sex with Rodolfo or having sex with him in the dirty alley next to a smelly, disgusting trash dumpster.  I regretted that I would have to avoid Vic’s for a while and go to another coffee shop on River Street.  The regret was that I would miss the blueberry scones at Vic’s.  In my opinion, they had the best blueberry scones in the city.

While my coffee was brewing I took a shower and checked myself to make sure I did not need a Brazilian wax anytime soon, which I didn’t.  I was good to go down there for about another week.  After the shower, I brushed my hair out and put on a thin cloth robe, poured a cup of coffee, added cream, went outside behind the guest house, and sat down in a wooden lounge chair to look at the garden as I enjoyed my first cup of coffee of the day.  Mother did a fine job keeping her garden free of weeds and I noticed she had already planted some fall flowers and plants.  After I finished my coffee, it was time to wake my friends.  They were both late sleepers and grumps in the morning and I got a perverse pleasure out of waking them.  I could go on and on about my two best friends and our love and bond we had between us, but I won’t bore the readers and will just sum them up as best as I can.  We also knew each other’s deepest and darkest secrets.  Outside my parents and my therapist, my two best friends were the only two people that knew how truly fucked up my family was. 

Amber St. Clair I had known since we were in diapers and her parents were my parents’ best friends. Like me, she was descended from an old Savannah family.  My mother told the truth when she said Amber was the most charming young lady she ever met.  Amber was the picture-perfect young Southern Belle in both manners and looks.  She was very petite and stood only five feet three inches tall with a fantastic body.  As best as I can describe it, is a wasp type figure but she was not chubby or voluptuous.  Her hips and butt were not large by any means, just perfectly shaped for her size.  What made her body look waspy was the size of her breasts and her very thin waistline.  Her breasts were 34C-cup but since she was petite, her eighteen-inch waistline made them appear larger on her.  Her body looked as if it was always in a very tight-laced corset.  Her raven, black hair was long, thick, and wavy and her green eyes sparkled like fine emeralds.  Amber’s red lips were full and her mouth formed a perpetual pout.  She had perfect skin the color of fine porcelain and as long as I had known her I don’t think I ever saw a blemish on her body or a pimple or blackhead on her face. 

Have you ever met a girl and thought she was the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your life?  I don’t mean the most beautiful female you ever met in your life, but the most beautiful thing in general.  That was Amber.  I never met a girl so lovely and while I was not gay or bi-sexual and did not have fantasies about being with another girl, I would often just stare at Amber’s face just because of her beauty.  I would tell Amber if anyone ever denied the existence of God all they had to do was look at her because only God could create someone so beautiful.  She would blush and tell me to shut my mouth.  She was very captivating, kind-hearted, and caring as well as shy and timid at times but her shyness just added to her charm.  I never met a boy we knew who was not secretly in love with Amber St. Clair and suspected some of the girls were also.  I could understand that.  Amber was easy to fall in love with and not just for her physical beauty.     

Amber was also the prissiest girl I ever met in my life.  She very rarely wore anything but dresses and skirts and the only time I ever saw her in shorts in public was when we would go to the beach or on my father’s sailboat.  She did not own a single pair of jeans or anything made of denim.  Both her fingernails and toenails were always perfectly manicured.  In our sophomore year of high school, I tried to get her to join the sailing team with me because I knew how much she loved to go sailing with my father and me.  Her response was, no, she could not join the team because she may break a nail.  The only curse word I ever heard her speak was damn. 

The only time she exerted herself physically was when she danced.  Amber had a passion for dancing and ballet was her favorite.  She had been taking dance and ballet classes since she could walk and my God, could she dance.  I never saw someone who could dance so gracefully and seductively.  Last year at a school dance, one of the nun chaperones had to interrupt her dancing and tell her good girls don’t dance that way.  It was not that she was doing it purposely at all; it just came naturally to her.  If Salome danced just half as seductively as Amber did, I could see why John the Baptist lost his head. 

Amber was also a closet lesbian.  Only I and Tamara knew that about her; well, whatever girl she may be dating also knew, of course.  Amber struggled with that, not because she was ashamed of being a lesbian, but because she felt she could not be herself, even dated a few boys off and on so her parents would not get suspicious.  That gave her a reputation at school for being a cock teaser because she would never do anything sexual with the boys she dated, not even kiss them beyond a peck on the cheek or a quick, chaste kiss on the lips.   

Tamara and I both knew she currently had a girlfriend that went to Jenkins Public High School but we never met her and we were dying to.  Both Tamara and I wanted to know what type of girl Amber was attracted to.  My money was on some prissy, lipstick lesbian like her.  Tamara thought it was some butch, black lesbian girl who likes little prissy white girls.  She thought black since Jenkins High is in a school district that is eighty percent black.  I argued that black lesbians can also be prissy, lipstick lesbians.  Naturally, we often teased Amber about her girlfriend we never met. 

My other best friend was Tamara Monroe.  Unlike Amber and me, Tamara was not born into the Savannah Social elite class and not even from Savannah.  We met her in the fourth grade when she started attending St. Vincent's when she moved to Savannah from Atlanta when her grandfather retired.  She was raised by her grandparents after her mother and father were killed in a car accident when she was not even a year old.  Amber and I became friends with Tamara not soon after she started school with us.  It was Amber who made the first contact with her, feeling that the new girl in school needed a friend.  I know I wrote all that stuff about the Social class in Savannah and how outsiders won’t ever belong and while it’s true, I never bought into all that bullshit like a lot of my peers did, and neither did my father.  My mother did to an extent but she judged people based on who they were, not who their family was.  We were proud of our ancestry of course and at times we could be Savannah snobs in some ways and not in others.  Amber’s parents were the same and Amber was too kindhearted to judge anyone.

Tamara had a skin complexion the color of fine mahogany and the body of a runway model.  She stood five feet seven inches tall, thin, small boobs, and her face was lovely with high cheekbones and long black hair that she sometimes wore kinky and curly and other times she would straighten.  I sometimes teased her about having a white girl ass because hers was small and skinny but cute and not flat. 

Tamara was a very sweet girl who at times liked to act as if she was from the ghetto or the hood in Atlanta, but in truth when she lived in Atlanta she lived in a very prominent neighborhood in Buckhead.  Her grandfather was one of the best cardiologists in the Atlanta area and when he retired they moved to Savannah; he bought a house in Ardsley Park.  Ardsley Park is a suburb in Savannah where rich to wealthy retirees move, where some of the prominent families of Savannah move to when they tire of the older homes, and other well-off people live.  No, Tamara had no clue what ghetto life was.

I liked her grandparents and so did my parents and they used to be a regular fixture at our home along with Amber’s parents on Saturday afternoons when my father had BBQs in nice weather months, during the fall to watch the University of Georgia football games and other times.  After my brother died, my parents stopped having social functions at our home.  Tamara’s grandfather and my father were still close friends and both shared a love of history.       

Tamara dated a few boys, both black and white, every so often, but she liked older men.  Her current lover was a white thirty-eight-year-old divorced attorney who saw his two kids every other weekend. Tamara would babysit them.  I thought it was funny she said she had to go babysit them on nights and weekends he did not have his kids.   

During my eight-month stay at Coastal Harbor Treatment Center, after thirty days I was allowed visitation.  Visitation was not restricted to weekends or certain days, so anyone could come to visit me on any day as long as I behaved and my visitation rights were not taken away.  I had many visitors; my father came to see me often, of course, my mother a few times, Tamara’s grandparents, Amber’s parents, some teachers, my priest, and others.  Amber and Tamara came to see me every day.  Even the days I was having a bad day and lash out at them and tell them never to visit again, they would ignore me.  Amber would cry and with tears running down her face tell me they loved me and they just wanted to help.  Tamara would tell me to shut the fuck up and stop being such a stupid white bitch and I would have to put up with seeing her black ass every day.

At sixteen and the start of my junior year of high school, I thought these two girls would be my best friends for the rest of my life.  I know people say that about high school friends but we were just that close that I knew it had to be true.  They would be godmothers to my children and I would be godmother to theirs.  No matter where life took us and where we ended up, we would always be close. At sixteen, I could still be so naïve about some things, and having Amber and Tamara as my best friends could make me forget how cruel God can be. 

I decided to wake Tamara up first and call her cell, it rang five times, and then I got a “Fuck you.  It’s too early.” Before I could even say good morning.  I told her I would pick her up in about an hour and she hung up without even saying goodbye.  I next called Amber and got a sleepy-sounding “Hello.”  I told her I would pick her up in about forty-five minutes on the way to get Tamara.  Amber called me a dreadful human being and hung up. 

That Saturday was Gwen day.  Long ago the three of us found out we did not have a lot in common when it came to what we enjoyed doing, so instead of arguing about it we decided that we would choose a Saturday out of the month and each of us would be able to pick what the other two would be doing with us.  Last month was Amber Day and we ended up at the Gryphon Tea Room, dressed in summer dresses, stylish hats, and white gloves as we sipped tea and had brunch, and then we went shopping.  The month before, on Tamara Day, we rode to Atlanta and went to Six Flags.  Today we were going to make the hour and a half drive to exclusive Sea Island and go to the beach and mingle with the wealthy tourists who have rooms and suites and cottages at the Cloister.   I loved the beach and the ocean. 

I changed into my light blue bikini, slipped on a tee-shirt with a Roxy logo on the front, and put on a pair of Volcom multi-color board shorts that were loose-fitting but short.  I put my hair in a ponytail, slipped on a pair of beach sandals, and applied some lip gloss.  I decided not to wear makeup today.  I was just going to the beach and I liked to swim in the ocean and men would mostly be looking at my body and not my face while in my bikini.  In most other places I went with Amber, I would not draw much attention from boys or men because they would focus on her, but we were going to the beach.  Amber was not a beach person at all and, well, you would just have to see what I mean when I picked her up.  With my driver’s license, my debit card, fifty dollars in cash in my front pocket, and carrying a beach bag, I left the guest house, got into my red 2016 Ford Mustang GT Convertible California Special, put the top down, and drove to pick up my friends.

At Amber’s house, I parked in the front and walked to her door.  It was impolite to just stay in my car, honk my horn and wait.  I was raised better than that.  I rang the doorbell, turned the knob on her front door, found it unlocked, and walked in.  The three of us had long ago just walked into each other’s houses as long as we notified the occupants first by either knocking or ringing the doorbell.  I went into the kitchen and saw Amber’s mother and father having coffee.  Her dad was reading the newspaper and her mother was reading a Southern Living magazine.  Both looked up at me and smiled.

“Good morning, Gwen,” her father greeted me and went back to his paper.

“Mornin'.”

“I am afraid Amber is not ready yet, dear,” her mother told me.  “Would you like some coffee or something to eat?”   

“I’ll get the coffee, no need to get up and we are going to get something to eat on the way.”  I got a coffee cup, poured my coffee, added some half and half, sat down at the table, and made casual chit-chat with my godparents.

I had expected Amber to be running late.  She always was.  I waited for about twenty minutes until she finally stepped into the kitchen doorway.  Amber was wearing a long dark, bright orange beach dress that came down to her ankles.  The dress had printed various sizes of butterflies on it that were a multitude of color shades from purple to pink.  The dress was cinched at the waist by a wide, tan leather belt that had ropes with fancy fringes on the ends and tied into a perfect looping bow.  The dress formed to her body, and being cinched at the waist only emphasized her figure.  I had been wrong.  Even with most of her body covered, Amber was going to draw the attention of boys and men and some girls at the beach.  I should have known; Amber could wear a burlap sack that came down to her ankles and still outshine any girl I knew. 

In her hand, she held a wide-brimmed, straw sun hat that had a pink outer ring around the brim to match her dress.  In her other hand, she held her beach bag.  I knew under the dress she was wearing a one-piece bathing suit.  Amber never wore a bikini.  Like me, she wore her hair in a single ponytail.  Unlike me, Amber was wearing makeup but lightly applied.     

 “What the hell, Amber.  Where do you think we are going today?”  I heard her mother giggle and her father chuckle.

“Just because we are going to the beach does not mean one has to dress down.”  Her eyes roamed up and down my body as if telling me I was dressed down, “and if you burned as easily as I do then you would not be laughing,” she replied in a haughty voice.  “Speaking of, we need to stop and get sunscreen.  I don’t have any.” I loved her voice, even when it was filled with attitude.  I always thought if I ever heard angels speak they would sound like Amber.   

“I got some for you.”

I thanked her parents for the coffee and stood up as Amber put on her hat and reached in her bag and pulled out her Jackie O style sunglasses, and off we went to go pick up Tamara.

Tamara was waiting for us on her front porch and like me, she was dressed down.  She had on a tee-shirt and a pair of blue jean cutoff shorts and like me, she wore no makeup.  When I pulled into her driveway she stood up, grabbed her beach bag, and walked to the car grinning at Amber.

“Nice outfit, Miss. Priss, you do realize we are going to the beach and not the queen's tea, don’t you?”  Tamara said to Amber.

“I have already explained my choice of attire once today and don’t feel the need to explain it again,” Amber replied.

Tamara put her bag in the truck, “It’s going to be almost a hundred today.  You are going to sweat your ass off.” 

“I don’t sweat.  I am a lady and ladies don’t sweat, we glisten.”

Tamara laughed, “Well, you are going to glisten your ass off then.”

As Amber climbed into the back seat - she liked riding in the back - the hem of her beach dress got caught on the emergency brake handle that was located on the center console between the front seats.  The dress snagged and lifted and both Tamara and I got a view of Amber’s red bathing suit-covered butt.  Her swimsuit bottom had ridden up her butt and she inadvertently gave us a view most men would die to see.  I made a cat call whistle.

“Gwen, if you were into girls would you fuck Amber?”  Tamara asked me as she sat down in the front seat.

“Hell, even being straight I would fuck Amber,” I answered as I looked in the review mirror and winked at her.  She sat with her arms crossed over her chest with a pouty look on her face and blushing. 

“I know, right?  She is one sexy white girl for sure.”  Tamara turned around in her seat to face Amber while I put the car in drive and started driving slowly on the driveway loop around.  “You like black pussy, Amber, or does the thought of Gwen’s ginger-haired pussy turn you on?”

“Neither of you are my type, so just drop it.” 

“Oh come on, you don’t like black ass?  You would like my pussy.”  Tamara started grinding her butt in the seat, mimicking sexual pleasure moans, and running her hands over her body, “Uhhhh yeah…that’s it, girl…get that pussy.  Yeah, white girl, lick that sexy black pussy.  Uhhhh…Uh…Uh…do it, girl!”  I was laughing as Tamara teased Amber.  Amber was so easy to make embarrassed and get flustered. 

“Race has nothing to do with it.  I would never date someone as crass as the two of you,” Amber said in a testy voice.  She was getting mad now.

Tamara turned back around and looked at me as I pulled onto the street, “I bet she likes those crude, foul-mouthed hood rats.”

I looked in the rearview mirror again, “Do you, Ams?  Do you like when some black ghetto girl fucks you with a twelve-inch strap on?” 

Amber rolled her eyes and looked up at the sky and made the sign of the cross.  Like me, she was raised Catholic. “Dear Lord, please bless me with better friends.” 

As I drove, both girls noticed I was getting on the interstate instead of driving east towards Tybee.   I put the top back up on my car before we got on I-95 so we could hear each other talk and listen to music. 

“We going to your parents’ condo on Jekyll?”  Amber asked.

“No.  It’s being remodeled, remember?  Took that damage from that tropical storm last month.”

“Where are we going?”  Tamara then asked.

“Sea Island.  The beach at the Cloister.”

“We can’t do that!  We can’t just drive up and ask, ‘Hey, can we hang out at the beach’?”  Amber replied.  There was minor panic in her voice.  Amber never was a risk-taker.

All the beaches in Georgia were considered public beaches, but the section of Sea Island I was driving to was private.  It was owned by a resort, The Cloister.  While technically you could be on the beach, the other parts of the island were private and only accessible to guests at the resort.  The Cloister had a Forbes Travel Guide five-star rating in all categories: the lodging, the spa, and one of its four restaurants, The Georgia Room.  It was not a place that three sixteen-year-old girls just drive up to and walk onto the beach for a day without being a guest of the resort.

“Don’t worry, I have it all worked out.  We can sit on the beach and have cute boys serve us complimentary drinks.”  As long as it was not alcoholic beverages, the drinks were free for guests. 

“How?”  Tamara asked.  Unlike Amber, her voice was calm and she asked out of curiosity and not fear.

“Remember Brett Walker?  The boy I dated who graduated Benedictine's the past year?”

“Dated?  I would not call what the two of you did as dating,” Amber said with a note of disapproval in her voice.

“OK, so we just fucked a few times.  Well, a lot of times.  Anyway, he works at the Cloister as a lifeguard and bellhop and he came back up to Savannah last weekend and we got together.  He is going to meet us at an employee entrance off a service road and let us in.  He got us a room key we can use to show people we are guests and we will be fine as long as we don’t make charges to that room.”

“Sweet,” Tamara said, liking my plan.

“And just what did you have to do for Brett for him to risk losing such a lucrative job for you?”  Amber was not convinced.  “If I remember correctly, he was not a very bright boy and had limited options after he graduated.”

It was not that the Cloister paid their employees a lot.  Maybe a little above the average than other resorts up and down the Golden Isle of Georgia, it was the tips where they made their money.  In the right position that dealt with guests on a daily basis, an employee at the Cloister could make about a thousand a week just in tips during their busy season.  The downside was how strict the standards for the employees were.

I laughed and looked at Amber in the rearview mirror, “You really want to know?”

“No, I don’t think I do.”

We pulled off the interstate at Brunswick and found a Waffle House to eat breakfast, well, find was not true; there is a Waffle House off almost every interstate exit in the South.  We all three liked the breakfast menu at the Waffle House.  After we ate, I texted Brett to let him know we would be there in about twenty minutes and he replied with the directions to the employee service once on the island.  I put the top back down on my car since we would not be traveling on the interstate anymore.  Brett met us at the locked gate, unlocked it for us, and I got out and gave him a hug and he handed me the room key and a resort parking pass to put in my car window.

“You owe me for this, Gwen,” he told me.

I kissed him on the cheek and ran my hand over his chest, “I look forward to repaying you next time you come back to Savannah.  Next weekend?”  Amber was right; he was not very bright, but damn he was hot.

Brett’s eyes looked up and down my body and he smiled, “Next weekend.”  I gave him a quick kiss on the lips and got back in my car and drove through the gate.

“We should turn around and just go to Jekyll or St. Simmons,” Amber said in a nervous voice.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” I looked at her in the rearview mirror.  “Iif we go to Jekyll or St. Simons there won’t be anyone to pamper us and bring us drinks with umbrellas in them.  I want a cute boy to bring me an umbrella drink.”  I made a pouty face. 

“Amber does have a point,” Tamara gave her opinion.  “What if they check the room and find out it’s vacant and we are not guests?”

“They won’t.  They will be too busy with the other guests.  What’s the worse they can do anyway if they catch us?  Tell us to leave?  It will be a small adventure and exciting.”

“I don’t know how your small adventures have not landed you in jail,” Tamara rolled her eyes.

“Or dead,” Amber added.

I stuck my tongue out at Amber.

The day went off without a hitch and everything worked out perfectly.  We lay on the beach in plush lounge chairs, Amber sitting under an umbrella, and cute boys brought us virgin drinks with little umbrellas in them, and Tamara and I swam in the ocean.  It was a fun day.  At one point during the day, two young men walked over to talk to us.  They were extremely cute and older, I would estimate in their mid-twenties.  Based on their accent I could tell they were from the South, but not from the Low Country.  They lacked that lazy Southern drawl that flowed like honey and instead they had a more twangy accent of the Upcountry.  After they introduced themselves I asked them if they wanted to sit down with us.  They did and I flirted with them while both Tamara and Amber were polite but not flirty during the conversation.  I was right when one said they were from Atlanta and rented a cottage for the week, which meant they had money because the cottages along the beach at the Cloister were not inexpensive and for a week would be a pretty penny.  During the conversation, I found out both went to the same college and became friends through their fraternity.  After they graduated they took a risk and with financial help from family, they opened their own marketing firm and quickly became successful after they landed a well-known, global company as a client.  Their names were Jon and Mark.  Mark was married and no children and Jon was single.  Every year the two took a week away from their lives for a guys' trip.

“We are having a party tonight.  Since we are leaving tomorrow we figured one last good time before we head home and back to the real world,” Mark said as he looked at Amber.  “If the three of you would like to come, we are staying in cottage five.” 

Both Tamara and I were wearing bikinis and Amber was in a less revealing one-piece, red, swimsuit but she still drew most of the attention from the men.  It did not bother me or Tamara.  We were used to it.

“I would love to,” I told Mark and at the same time both Tamara and Amber said, “We can’t.”

Jon took his eyes off of Amber and smiled at me, “Well, hopefully, you can come then.”

“I think I can manage it.  I like parties,” I told him in a flirtatious tone.  “I like to have a good time.”

Jon smiled, “Nice.  Should start about eight but come anytime.”  With that, they excused themselves and walked back toward their cottage.

“What kind of plans do the two of you have tonight?”  I asked my friends.

“Babysitting,” Tamara said

“I have a date,” Amber added. 

“Amber is going to have her sweet face buried in some pussy tonight,” Tamara teased and put her index finger and her middle finger to her lips, spread them apart, and flicked her tongue rapidly.

“God, Tamara, your crudeness knows no limits.  At least I won’t have some disgusting, old man’s penis in my mouth tonight as you will.” 

“Why Amber Camille St. Clair, I think that is the dirtiest thing I ever heard you say,” I teased in a mock, shocked voice.

Amber blushed, “Ya’lls vulgarity is rubbing off on me.  That’s why I need new friends.”

We stayed on Sea Island for a while longer and left about three in the afternoon when a thunderstorm rolled in from the ocean.  On the way home, we stopped and ate a late lunch.  It is only an hour and a half drive from Sea Island to Savannah, so we got home in time for Amber and Tamara to get ready for their dates.  I dropped Tamara off at her house first and I let the top down on my car as I drove Amber home.  We were stopped at a traffic light and Amber closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose.

“God, don’t you just love this city,” she commented after inhaling the scent of the summer Savannah air.

“Yeah, but I can’t wait until we graduate and I go to college and leave for a while,” I answered, “I need a break from my mom and dad.”

Amber nodded.  She understood.  “Not me,” she said, however.  “I never want to leave.”

“What about your dreams?”  I asked as the light turned green and I started to drive again.  “To go to some performing arts school and become a prima ballerina for the New York City Ballet Company or in Chicago or some other big city?  To dance in cities like Paris and London?”

Amber smiled, “Oh, I still have those dreams.  I just wish I didn’t have to leave Savannah for them.”  She then blushed and giggled, “I will tell you a secret; I sometimes pray to God that I wish I could do all of that without having to move away from Savannah.  Have the world come to me instead of me going to it.”

Amber let out a shriek as I swerved the car to the side of the street and pulled over.  “Oh my God, you scared me to death!  Did we hit an animal or something?”

I grabbed Amber’s arm tight, “Don’t you ever say that!  Don’t you ever pray for that again!”  I almost screamed at her.

“Gwen, you’re hurting me,” Amber whined out as I gripped her arm tight. 

I pulled her to me and let go of her arm and hugged her tight.  “Please, don’t ever pray for that again,” I begged her, almost in tears.  “God is cruel and has a sadistic sense of humor.  Promise me, Ams; promise me you won’t ever pray for that again.  I can’t lose you or Tamara.  I could not survive it if something happened to either of you.”

Amber gave me a gentle, lingering kiss on my lips.  It was not a kiss of lovers but a kiss of deep sisterly love and friendship.  “OK, darling, I won’t.  I promise.  Nothing is going to happen to me or Tamara.  We would never leave you or each other,” she told me in a calming voice.

Like me, Amber was raised Catholic and she understood the guilt we could place on ourselves and she understood my superstitious beliefs in the power of prayer and she understood my personal belief and current relationship with God at that time in my life.  I let go of her, smiled at her as I wiped my eyes, and drove her home.  I believed her promise.  She would never lie to me or break her promises to me.   

I got home in time to take a nap, eat a light meal, and get ready to go back to Sea Island.  Even though my friends objected and were strongly against me going to the party, I wanted to go, so I went.

Even though it was going to be a party at a cottage on the beach and I was sure everyone would dress casual, I wanted to stand out.  I chose to wear a red and black plaid, summer mini dress.  The dress was sleeveless with a rounded neckline that came up to the start of my neckline, and the hem flared out at the bottom.  I decided not to wear any stockings, selected a strapless black bra that the top portion of the breast cups was lacey and sheer.  My panties were matching bikini cut and trimmed with lace. On my feet I wore a pair of four-inch heels I purchased to go with the dress.  They were open-toed with red and black, wide plaid straps that crisscrossed over the top of my feet and above my ankles.  Yeah, I was overdressed for a party at a beach cottage but I liked to dress nicely when I went to a party.  I wore my hair down. 

Before I left I ground up a Vicodin into a fine powder, snorted it, wrapped another one in a napkin, and put it in my pocket for later along with a short straw.  I did not know if the young men would have drugs or not, so I wanted to be prepared.  I put my cell phone, driver's license, debit card, and some cash in a small, black clutch purse and I was all set.  I grabbed a bottle of white wine to take.  It was rude to show up at a party empty-handed. 

I got to Sea Island a little after nine and this time I did not have to sneak in since I was a guest of a guest at the resort.  I drove to the cottages and found cottage five and saw a few cars parked in front and the driveway of the cottage.  I got out, leaving my purse in the car, and walked to the door, knocked, and the young man named Jon opened the door and greeted me and told me he was very glad I came.  I handed him the bottle of wine. 

“I guess your friend could not make it?  The brunette,” Jon asked.  He meant Amber.

“No.  You are not her type anyway,” I grinned at him.

“Oh?  Am I your type?”

“Time will tell.”  He smiled at me and looked up and down my body and then invited me inside the cottage.

The party was nice, not that many people there, and a nice mixture of genders.  There were four other females there beside me and a total of six males.  Everyone but myself was dressed very casually in shorts and tops that ranged from polo-style shirts to tee shirts.  I mingled, flirted, mingled some more, and flirted with most of the guys at the party and danced with several.  I drank very little.  I did not like beer so Jon made me a few cocktails.  I was a very social person at parties.  Through my mingling, I found out that most of the guests were other resort guests and two of the men were Cloister employees.  It was a good small party and Jon and Mark were good hosts.

After a while I set my sights on Jon; he was super cute, and we were slow dancing, he held me close, and we were kissing.

“I need to pee,” I told him when I broke our kiss.

Jon pointed out where the bathroom was.  I went into the bathroom, peed, and then took the napkin out of my pocket, looked around the bathroom, and found a metal shaving cream can.  I rolled the can over the pill until it was a fine powder and snorted it through the straw.  So far at the party, no one mentioned any drugs.  I then checked my hair and makeup and went back to the party. Jon was at the bar talking to Mark and some other girl who looked to be about twenty; she was cute with blonde hair that I knew was not her natural color and cut in a pageboy style. 

“You having fun?” a male voice asked behind me.  The voice sounded nasally like he was talking through his nose.

I turned around and saw a chubby boy holding a beer bottle.  He looked about my age, had black hair that was full of too much hair gel, and slicked back.  His chubby face was naturally scrunched, beady black eyes, pointy nose, a bad case of acne, and if he had whiskers he would have looked like a rat.  He was wearing a pair of blue shorts and a white polo shirt. 

I smiled, “Yes, it’s a nice party.”  I was not going to be rude.

“I’m Daniel,” he held out his hand.

“Gwen,” I said as I shook his hand.  It was clammy and sweaty.  “How do you know Mark and Jon?”

“I don’t.  I'm staying at the resort with my parents and they met my sister,” the boy pointed to Mark and Jon and the blonde girl, “on the beach and invited her to the party.”  He grinned, “I told Sarah if she did not let me come along I would tell our mom and dad.”  He sounded proud of his blackmail.

I smiled, “So, having a good time?” 

“It’s OK,” he said a little too nonchalantly, so I knew he was not the type to be invited to a lot of parties.  “I just wanted to say hello,” he looked at my legs and chest, “and you are so pretty and dressed very nice.  I like the dress.”

“Why thank you.”  I smiled politely, “Well, it was nice meeting you, Daniel.  I hope you have a good time.”  I excused myself as Jon stepped from behind the bar and walked toward me. 

Daniel gave me the creeps for some reason.  It was not because he was very unattractive - I am not that superficial - or that his eyes roamed over my body; I am used to that look from guys.  He leered at me in a way that just creeped me out.

Jon took my hand, “Want to go outside on the deck?” he asked me.

“Sure.”

He led me out the French doors to the deck and leaned in to kiss me again but instead, he lifted his hand and wiped my nose.  “Need to be more careful after you do a line.”

I blushed, “Sorry.”

“No worries.  Coke?”

“No, Vicodin.”

“I got some coke in my room.  One of the guys who works here hooked us up,” Jon smiled, “I mean if you want to do some to even out.”

“Oh hell yeah,” I blurted out and then giggled, “Sorry.”

Yeah, I did drugs and did not limit myself to just opioids.  I did several types of illegal drugs: cocaine, opioids, weed on occasion, ecstasy, and even did fentanyl once (damn, that was an awesome high).  I didn’t mess with needles or heroin or meth; meth was such a trashy trailer park drug.  I also drank a lot at parties if there were no or very limited drugs available.  Mostly I did them at parties; okay, so I snorted or popped an opioid now and then when alone sometimes or at school or just going shopping or hanging out.  Don’t judge me; I did not have a drug problem and I was not an addict.  I could go days or even a couple of weeks without getting high on something.  Maybe even a month; well, let’s not get carried away, why would I want to go a month without getting high?  But seriously I was not an addict!

Jon kissed me and I kissed him back and then he led me past the party people and into his room.  The cottage had three bedrooms so both Jon and Mark had their own rooms and there was a spare.  Once in the room, I sat on the king-sized bed as Jon shut the bedroom door.  He then opened a small suitcase and pulled out a black, leather shaving bag, and unzipped it.  He pulled out a very small plastic, zip lock bag.  There was not much of the white powder in the bag, maybe enough for two or three small lines.  I was disappointed there was not more.  He also pulled out a small vanity mirror and a single-edged razor blade and a small metal tube.  Jon walked toward me, pulled a coffee table over the bed, placed the mirror on the table, tapped out some of the powder on the mirror.  He used the razor to cut it up finer, arranged the cocaine in a single, short line and handed me the metal tube.  I bent down and snorted the line.

As I wiped my nose and sniffled hard, Jon took the tube from my hand and laid me down on the bed.  We started making out passionately and I wrapped my arms around his neck.  We kissed and his hand slid up under my dress, and when his hand slid under my panties I pushed him away and sat up on the bed quickly.

“Let’s do another line,” I told him.  This meant me doing another line since Jon had not partaken in the narcotic powder.

Jon smiled at me as his hand caressed my bare shoulder, “Sure, but it’s not cheap.  What are you going to do for me?”

I knew what he wanted just as he knew what I wanted.  I wanted some more of the drug and he wanted to get off.  I thought it would be a fair trade.  “Put out two lines and I’ll suck your dick.”

“One line and you give me a blow job and two lines I get to cum on your tits,” Jon negotiated.

“Sure,” I agreed quickly.  I wanted to have sex with Jon anyway so I did not have a problem prostituting myself for some cocaine.  The narcotic was just a bonus.  My plan was after I sucked his cock, we could go back to the party, and then when people started to leave I would end up in his bed for the night.

“The blow job first,” Jon told me.

I shook my head, “No, the coke first.  How do I know you will give it to me after I suck your dick?”

Jon grinned, “My word as a gentleman.”

“A gentleman would not be offering a girl some drugs for a blow job,” I smiled.  “But you have my word as a lady I will honor our deal.”

Jon laughed, “A lady would not be sucking a cock for some coke.”

He did have a point.  I agreed to the blow job first.  I got off the bed and stood in front of Jon and unzipped my dress and let it fall to my feet and stepped out of it.  I then reached behind myself and unhooked my bra, pushed the straps off my shoulders, and let it fall to the floor at my feet.  Jon was staring at my breasts.

“I did not want you to get anything on my dress.  It’s expensive.” 

“Fuck, you have great tits.  Turn around.  I want to see your ass.”  Jon started to unbuckle his belt as I turned around for him.

I looked over my shoulder as Jon was staring at my butt and pulling his shorts down to his knees.  I teased him by bending over a little and pulling down my panties just below my butt cheeks and then giggled as I pulled my panties back up.  He grinned at that. 

“OK, come suck my cock now.”

Jon’s shorts were down to his ankles and he was sitting on the bed wearing just boxer briefs and his tee-shirt.  I could see the bulge in his underwear; Jon’s penis was already erect.  I gathered my hair in my hands, made a few twists, loops, a knot, and quickly put my hair in a ponytail.  I took two steps, got on my knees, pulled down the front of his boxer briefs, and took his cock on my mouth.  Normally I would have taken my time and teased it with my mouth and tongue, but I wanted more cocaine.  Plus I was sure he was going to fuck me later that night and then I would take my time sucking his cock.  Jon placed his hand on the back of my head but did not force me; it was more to guide me.

His penis was average size and after a few moments of bobbing my head up and down and sucking his cock, I knew I would be able to deep throat him.  I relaxed my throat and took him deeper into my mouth until my face was pressed into his pelvis and his black pubic hair tickled my nose.  Jon gave a loud moan of pleasure as I held my mouth in place for a few moments, swallowed a few times so my throat muscles would constrict and then relax around his cock, and then pulled my head back.  I took my mouth off his penis and looked up at the cute man and wiped the saliva off my chin.

“Fuck, Gwen, you sure can suck a dick,” Jon told me and pressed the back of my head.  “Now make me cum.”

I took him back into my mouth and sucked his cock faster and harder and used my right hand on his shaft that was slick from my saliva.  It only took a few seconds for me to get into a nice rhythm and I worked his penis with my mouth, tongue, and hands.  Jon was moaning and I was making the soft whimpering sounds I made when I gave a blow job.  I liked hearing his moans.  Hearing a man make masculine moans of pleasure was a turn on for me.  Jon let go of my head, reached down, and started fondling my breasts and playing with my nipples.  I gave a louder muffled moan of pleasure as he pinched my nipples.  I could feel my pussy getting wet.  I was very aroused and wanted to get fucked, but would have to wait until later because I felt Jon’s body tighten and I knew he was about to cum. 

Jon pushed me away gently and I whimpered in disappointment; I wanted him to cum in my mouth, but a deal was a deal.  I kneeled up straighter and cupped my breasts in my hands and pushed them up as Jon started stroking his cock and pointing it at my chest. 

“Oh fuck…I am going to cum.”  He did. 

Jon jerked his cock hard and fast, made a series of masculine grunts, and his cum exploded from his cock and shot all over my breasts and chest.  His cum exploded out of his cock in a series of thick, sticky, warm rope-like sprays.  I moved my eyes back and forth to watch his cum land on my chest and to see his face.  I liked seeing a man orgasm.  Jon jerked his penis until no more of his sex fluid would come out and I quickly put my mouth back on his cock and sucked it, getting a couple of last drops of his cum in my mouth.  Jon then pushed my head back and looked down at me.  I ran my hand over my chest, gathering as much of his cum on my fingers as I could, brought my hand to my mouth, and looked him in the eyes as I licked and sucked my fingers clean. 

“Damn, Gwen, you give a fantastic blow job,” Jon told me as stood up and pulled his underwear and shorts back up.  “I’ll get you a towel to clean up.”  He buttoned his shorts and buckled his thin cargo-style belt.

“Umm, aren’t you forgetting something?” 

Jon chuckled, “Oh yeah, sorry.” 

Jon poured the remaining cocaine powder on the mirror that was on the table.  “You earned it for sure.”  He then walked into the bathroom.

As Jon was in the bathroom and I heard the water running, I picked up the razor, made one line of the drug, picked up the metal tube, and snorted.  There was not much cocaine left, so it only made a single line.  Such a pity because I would have done more and I wanted more.

Jon came back into the room, gave me a towel damped with warm water, and left the bedroom as I wiped my chest.  I put my bra and dress back on, went into the bathroom and fixed my hair, and rejoined the party.  I was feeling euphoric and stimulated as the cocaine had replaced the mellower feeling from the opioids I had taken earlier.    

I saw Jon talking to Mark, and Mark turned his head and grinned at me and I knew that Jon had told Mark what had just happened in the bedroom, but I did not care.  I turned when I felt someone tap me on my shoulder and saw that boy Daniel holding two shot glasses filled with some type of liqueur.  He offered me one.  I took it and did the shot.  It was peach flavored Absolut vodka.  Daniel was talking to me and I was being polite but did not listen to much he was saying as I kept looking over my shoulder at Jon.  I was hoping the cute man would come over and we would go back into his bedroom and he would fuck me.  Sex while on coke was awesome.  He didn’t; Jon was now talking to Daniel’s sister Sarah.  I felt disappointed but since I was high, it didn’t bother me that much.  There were other men at the party.  I wanted to dance.  I excused myself from Daniel and joined several people in the center of the room where the furniture was moved out of the way and converted into a makeshift dance floor.

I was dancing with the small group of other people, not dancing with anyone in particular, for about fifteen or twenty minutes, when I felt someone press against me from behind, and I turned my head and saw it was Mark.  I smiled at him as he put his arms around my waist and I started to grind my butt against his crotch.  If Jon didn’t want to fuck me after I sucked his cock then maybe Mark would.  He was cute also.  I turned my head again as Mark pulled me even closer and he leaned in and kissed me and I kissed him back.

“I heard you did all of Jon’s coke,” he whispered in my ear after he broke our kiss.

I giggled, “Yeah, he didn’t have much anyway.”

“I got some more if you want.” 

“Sure.”  Mark took my hand and led me into his bedroom.  I knew the deal.  It was going to be the same as with Jon.  A blow job for some of the drug and I was all for it.  I wanted to do some more cocaine and I wanted to have sex while on the drug.  I figured if not with Jon, then Mark would do.  I was hoping he would want more than his penis sucked.  

Mark’s room was the same layout as Jon’s with the same type of furniture but decorated in a different style décor.  I sat on the bed as Mark got the drug and as with Jon’s, it was in a small zip-lock plastic bag.  He didn’t have a mirror as Jon did so he put the white powder on the small coffee table.  I got off the bed and walked to the table and got on my knees in front of it as he cut the coke with a razor blade.

“Damn, I don’t have a straw,” Mark said.  “Let me get something to use.”

“No worries.  I have something.”  I pulled my straw out of my pocket and smiled.  I then lowered my head and snorted the one line Mark had arranged on the table.  After I snorted the line, I looked up and saw Mark was sitting on the bed grinning at me. 

“You can do more if you do with me the same you did with Jon,” Mark told me.

I smiled and got off my knees, walked to the edge of the bed, got back on my knees, and helped Mark take off his shorts and underwear.  His penis was erect and a little bigger than Jon’s in both length and girth but not by much.  I brushed my hair out of my face and over my ears and took him in my mouth.  Mark lay back on the bed with his legs hanging over the edge and he moaned out as I sucked his cock.

“Fuck, I love cokehead sluts,” he commented to himself.

I was neither a cokehead nor a slut and did not consider myself that.  I just liked to have a good time and a good time for me at a party was drinking, doing drugs, and sex.  True, maybe I did hook up with more boys than I should have at parties and I had a certain reputation at St. Vincent’s and Benedictine’s as being a “fun girl”, but not for being a slut.  Maybe if I was anyone else, I would have been called the school slut but no one called me that.  It was my popularity and being so nice and sweet that saved me from that reputation.  I was a nice person, really I was.  I was not the popular mean girl type; I never talked about people behind their backs, never gossiped, never spread rumors, and often defended other girls at school when unsubstantial rumors were started about them.  I was very nice to everyone regardless of their social status at school or what social clique they were a member of.      

Ignoring Mark's comment, I gave him a blow job for a while and then took my mouth off his penis and stood up.

“Why did you stop?”  Mark asked as he sat up on the edge of the bed.

I gave him a wicked smile, unzipped my dress, and let it fall to the floor.  “I want you to fuck me.”  Giving him a blow job was fun and I enjoy giving oral sex, but I was horny and I wanted to be fucked.   

Mark grinned, used his feet to remove his shoes, took off his polo shirt, and removed his shorts and underwear from around his ankles.  When he reached his arms out to grab me, I took a step back and shook my head and looked at the table.

“More first,” I told him.   

Mark nodded, stood up, and put another line of cocaine on the table as I removed my heels.  I once again knelt at the table, picked up the straw, and snorted the powder.   As I was doing the drug, Mark got off the bed and walked to a small suitcase, and got out a small box of condoms.   I took off my bra and panties as he took a condom out of the box, placed the box on the nightstand, and sat back on the edge of the bed, and looked at me.  I could tell by the look in his eyes he liked what he saw.  I walked toward the bed and straddled Mark’s lap and we started kissing.  I gasped out when his hands went to my breasts and he started playing with my nipples.  I could feel his hard cock pressing into my thigh.  I liked foreplay a great deal; I loved foreplay, but I was high on coke and horny and wanted to fuck.  I lifted my butt off his lap, reached down and took his penis in my hand, and guided his cock into my pussy as I slowly lowered my ass back into his lap.  My pussy was very wet and the condom was lubricated so his penis slid easily into my pussy.

“Ohhh God…this feels good,” I moaned after I lowered myself onto him and his cock was all the way inside me. 

I was about to start moving my hips and fuck Mark when I heard the door to the room open and close.  I turned my head and saw Jon standing behind me.  Mark looked over my shoulder to his friend.

“It does not count,” Mark said to Jon.  “You had your chance and only got a blow job so you don’t get full points for fucking her now.”

“I know.  But I can get half points if we tag team her,” Jon replied.

‘Yeah, but that also doubles my points,” Mark added.

Jon shrugged, “I am ahead anyway and we are leaving Monday so I don’t think you can catch up anyway, especially if I fuck Sarah tonight,” Jon grinned at me.  “Might as well have some fun with this one first though.”

Mark turned my head gently, “Is this OK with you?  Both of us?”

I had no idea what they were talking about with points and they were talking about me as if I was not in the room.  I turned my head back to look over my shoulder and watched Jon remove his clothes and saw he was sexually aroused.  I turned my head back to Mark and moved my hips a little as I kissed him hard on his lips.

“Yes,” I whispered in his ear but also loud enough for Jon to hear.  I was high on coke, horny, wanted to get fucked, they were both very nice looking, and this was not the first time I had been with two guys at the same time before.

Cont’d next chapter