Friday, September 13, 8:45pm

Black Cat.  Just a little something extra on your sugar cube.

I don't normally do drugs, outside of sugar and caffeine and alcohol and cannabis
and chocolate and sex.  I was reluctant to try the sugar cubes Marilyn had
brought over to the Allen's suite, but Julie was working hard to convince me.

"Marilyn does only the best stuff, really!"  Nineteen-year-old Julie was wearing
a tight t-shirt and cutoff jeans.  It was a hot late summer evening, and we had
the windows open.  Marilyn sat by the window, a pale chubby woman with
dangerous-looking dark eyes, who I'd first met just an hour before.  She smiled,
and tossed a cube from hand to hand.

"No side effects at all, you're saying?" I asked.

"Well," said Julie, "sometimes you have funny dreams the night after, and
sometimes a little hangover the next day, but it's worth the trip, really!  It'll
be fun.  No flashbacks, no instant death, none of that."  And she wriggled her
lithe young body persuasively.  "Makes some people really horny, too," she
grinned.

Julie and I each took a cube from Marilyn, who was going to stay straight to
maintain the set.  "Just slip it under your tongue," she said.  I did; the sugar
cube tasted like sugar, with a little bitter tang under it.  "Why's it called
Black Cat?" I asked. Marilyn just shrugged.  Her breasts bobbed under her thin
cotton tent dress.  "Now just sit quietly and look around; you should start to
feel it in about ten minutes."

I sat on the couch, and slipped my arm around Julie, who cuddled up next to me. 
I thought about how the men of some island tribes show no effects from alcohol
until they pass out cold, while your typical college freshman loses all
self-control after one vodka.  So much depends on what you're expecting.  "Does
it make YOU horny?" I asked Julie.  She grinned up at me.  "Doesn't everything?"
she said, and put her arms around my neck.  I kissed her soft pink lips, and she
opened her mouth.

"Very good," Marilyn commented from her chair, "excitement brings the high on
faster, and makes the trip deeper."

As Julie's tongue slid over my teeth, and her hands began to roam over my body, I
forgot to wonder if I was feeling the drug yet. I helped her pull her t-shirt off
over her head, and took her lovely small breasts in my hands.  Licking and
kissing her erect nipples, it did occur to me that a stranger sitting there
watching would normally have mattered to me, but the thought was quickly swept
away.  As I rolled one nipple between my fingers, and sucked the other between my
lips, Julie closed her eyes and sighed.  One of her hands slid up my thigh, and
she stroked my growing erection through my pants.  My memory of the night starts
to get spotty right about there.

Naked, I'm sitting on the couch with my legs spread.  Julie is crouching on the
floor in front of me, making love to my cock. She holds it in both hands and
strokes up and down; she runs her tongue over it in big licks, like a kid with a
lollipop. She rubs it over her face and her tits, leaving a trail of pre-cum
cock-tears behind it.  Her breathing is fast and hot. I look down at her from far
above, wondering why her skin is so cold.  Her hands and body are like ice.  When
she opens her mouth and slides me into her, it is like masturbating with a cold
mitten.  Except that it makes my cock throb and swell, and sends arctic streams
of pleasure up my spine.  I stare at the ceiling as Julie pants and groans,
painting herself with my penis.

I am on my knees, watching Julie juggle pieces of a mirror. Marilyn's purse has
fallen off the table, and purse-things lie all over the floor.  The mirror has
broken off of a compact, and Julie is tossing the biggest piece from hand to
hand.  Be careful, I think to myself, as the shards cut tiny bloody gashes in her
palms. Her hair has turned jet-black in the sunset light.  Looking down, I notice
that Marilyn is on all fours on the floor in front of me, her dress pushed up
over her naked thighs and ass.  I part the big soft pillows, and slide my stiff
cock into her pussy from behind.  She purrs and pushes back against me, her tail
raised high in the air.  My cock slides easily in and out of her cunt. She moans.
 Julie throws the mirror into the air again, and misses it coming down.

Julie's legs are wrapped around my head, her smooth young thighs against my
cheeks.  My nose is pressed into her mons as I run my tongue over her clit, and
two fingers slowly in and out of her pussy.  She gasps and writhes and squeezes
my head between her legs.  I stick my fingers deeply into her, and close my mouth
over her left thigh.  The firm softness of her flesh crushes me like a wall; I
bite her with all my teeth, and she curses as she comes, hitting my head with her
fists.  I move my mouth back to her clit, and carefully count her pubic hairs as
she laughs and screams.

In the pattern of the grain on the wooden door, some very small people have built
three cities.  I stand very close to the door, looking down at the middle city. 
The city is sprawling and complex.  It terrifies and fascinates me.  On the road
out of the city, out into the fields and farms on the way to the red city on the
left, two men are walking, holding umbrellas over their heads.  They get to a
small cluster of houses set among the fields.  They go into a house, without
closing their umbrellas.  I turn away from the door, filled with dread. Marilyn
is lying on the couch, her cotton dress up over her head tangling her arms.  Her
body is naked.  Julie is eating her.  Marilyn, I think to myself, is not doing
her job.  She is having orgasms rather than making sure that Julie and I have
good trips.  I will punish her by memorizing her nipples.

Marilyn's breasts are wide and pale, flattened out on her chest where she lies
back on the couch, her moans muffled by the dress up around her head.  Excited as
she is, her nipples are soft and relaxed.  I lick and suck them, exploring every
groove and pore.  They gradually come erect.  Tomorrow I will make plaster
sculptures of her breasts during breakfast.  As I suck Marilyn's nipples, I
stroke her stomach with my left hand.  I feel the deeply-buried muscles below her
navel start to tense.  As she comes with our mouths hot and hungry on her body,
her moans become high giddy meows.  Julie takes my hand and squeezes it, her face
still buried in Marilyn's fur.

Julie and I are relaxing on the couch under a blanket.  Marilyn is picking up
salt shakers, putting things back into her purse. She is leaving.  "Glad you kids
had a good time!" she says, "You might not want to go to sleep for an hour or two
yet, but otherwise you're down safely."  She goes out the door.  Screw that;
Julie and I look at each other, and then scramble into the bedroom and under the
sheets.  We cuddle and kiss until we fall asleep.

The middle of the night.  Julie lies on top of me, moving her hips and sliding
her wet pussy up and down my cock.  Her lips are by my ear.  "God, I'm going to
come, oh God, oh God." she whispers.  I thrust into her more deeply.  I try not
to come myself, because my semen might hurt her.  My cock is hard and painful. 
The door opens, and something large and black pads in on quiet paws.  I raise up
my head.  "Marilyn?" I say.  "She's gone," gasps Julie, "lie down and fuck me; oh
cat you're so big oh so fucking DEEP." She draws me further and further into her,
and as she comes the sweet pulsing of her cunt brings me off against my will.  My
cum shoots into her; something jumps up on the bed, and silky fur covers my mouth
and nose.  The cat smothers me as I come, and I sink back into sleep.

I am in a small room.  The ceiling of the room is a tent of green canvas.  It
moves noisily in the wind.  There is a wooden bench on one side of the room.  The
room smells of piss.  I want to lie down, but I can't.  The short woman in the
tight dress sitting on the bench is Mrs. Hale, my eighth-grade History teacher. 
All the boys in the class have wet dreams about Mrs. Hale.  Every day at lunch,
we all talk about what she was wearing that day, and how it might come off.  Mrs.
Hale is at the blackboard, explaining something about the Spanish Armada.  I walk
to her, and unzip the front of her dress.  She stops speaking, and kisses me hard
and deeply on the mouth, standing on tiptoe to reach me, her breasts spilling out
of her dress and pressing against my chest.  I take them in my hands, bury my
head between them, kiss the soft hot skin between the mounds.  She continues
lecturing, but with her hands she offers her nipples one after the other to my
mouth, and I suckle them, and run my tongue over each pink aureola. I slide my
hands up her thighs, and her skirt bunches up in her lap.  She spreads her legs,
and my fingers caress her warm pussy.

"Jefferson Davis," she says, "the Treaty of Utrecht was the immediate cause of
the War of 1812.  I want you to fuck me until I scream, you bastard.  Haven't I
taught you anything?"

Mrs. Hale is naked on her desk, her legs spread wide.  She leans back, propped on
her arms, her long hair hanging down, her big breasts pointing at the ceiling.  I
push my cock into her, and she moans.  We fuck for days, my cock huge and aching,
her mouth gaping as she shouts obscenities.  I fondle and squeeze her tits with
both hands; her flesh is soft and hot.  The hair around her pussy is jet black. 
I watch my rock-hard shaft plunging in and out of her, and I notice that with
each thrust her pubic hair becomes thicker and spreads out.  As I come, her body
jerking hot streams of semen out of me, and she screams in pleasure, the hair
spreads up over her breasts.  Her ears are black and pointy.  Her fur strokes my
body erotically, but as she opens her mouth and her sharp teeth gleam in the
light, I see that she is really scaled, and snakes have no cunts.  Just as it is
about to strike, Abraham Lincoln coils the snake, now grey and fetid, back into
his mouth.  I gasp desparately for air, and manage to shake myself awake.

I tossed and turned for the rest of the night, and at dawn I snuck out of bed and
dragged myself back to my own apartment to suffer alone.  I had the mother of all
hangovers: my head stuffed with old socks, my eyes dripping Elmer's Glue.  For a
week, my mouth tasted unimaginably bad.  I was impotent for five days, because
every time I started to get it up, Abraham Lincoln's long grey tongue would flash
in front of my eyes.

A few weeks later, Julie called to say that Marilyn was coming over again with
some really good stuff.  Did I want to try it? "Maybe next time," I said, and
crossed my fingers.