Chapter Six

 

Out by the big pool behind the Ambassador’s Residence, Journee saw where she’d lain the other day and fingerfucked herself while her mom napped upstairs.  Doing that was pretty slutty.  Journee had to admit that.  Maybe she wasn’t slut-dependent on these two freaky girls.  Maybe she was slutty at other times, even all on her own. 

Then again, who was she thinking about as she fingered herself?  Yep.  These two.

She’d thought about them and couldn’t hold herself back.  Not even in a strange land and outdoors.  Not even with her mom nearby.

And she’d even….

She tried not to think about that, what she did right after she’d orgasmed, but it came back to her in full raging memory as they stumbled her towards the pool.  She had licked her fingers afterward.  Like a slut.  And she’d imagined she was licking up their juices instead of her own.  Hers.  Theirs.  Either way, that was pretty slutty.

She wasn’t really a victim, was she?  There was something right about the wrong way they treated her.  She must deserve it.  It turned her on.

Even now, after that massive orgasm, that bathtub tidal wave orgasm, she was already hungry for more.

Jesus, she was already hungry for more milk.  Her stomach didn’t feel full anymore.  Not as full.  She’d digested some of the milk.  Their milk, some part of it, was flowing in her veins and arteries.

She had room for more now.  And she wanted it.  But she knew she needed to wait.  These girls each had a couple milk-making balloons but even they had limits.

Journee wondered why she was thinking about how soon she could get another feeding instead of how she could avoid it.

They reached the edge of the pool, but Journee kept going as they pushed her in, laughing.

Journee came up sputtering, and they jumped in more gracefully after her.

They pushed her back and forth between them and dunked her a few times.  She went along with it as much as she could.  They were both taller and stronger than her, though they were wiry slim.  Even one of them was too much for her to take on.

Then they corralled her between them.  Rhone kissed her hard on the mouth and reached down.  She rubbed Journee’s pussy.  Pindpo pressed against Journee’s back and also reached down. 

What was Pindpo reaching for!?!

Journee wiggled, trying to dodge her ass away but to no avail.  Pindpo found her anus and pressed.  Journee gave up the battle and groaned.  She stood still for it, already feeling a sexy sense of defeat.  Pindpo pressed her finger inside.

Rhone worked two fingers into Journee’s pussy.

Journee knew she was, again, in another never-before circumstance.

She was getting fingerfucked front and back!

That was a lot and too much and just right.

But that wasn’t all they filled.

They filled her ears with nasty words.

Pindpo spoke into Journee’s right ear, and Rhone spoke into Journee’s left ear.  They pressed their lips close and spoke with a tone of confident command though the words were not commands, not exactly. 

Rhone said, “American slut!”

Pindpo said, “Milk slut.”

“American slut!”

“Milk slut.”

American slut!”

“Milk slut.”

Their fingers filled her as their words filled her.  It was hard for Journee to concentrate, or even perceive, anything other than the sensations the fingers induced and the words sinking into her mind.

“American slut!”

She was an American.  That part was correct.  But was she a slut? She’d never been so uncertain about the question after all these years of knowing for certain she was a good girl and not at all a slut.

“Milk slut.”

She did drink human milk straight from the breast.  Even though she was an adult!  She had not wanted to.  She had not volunteered to do it.  There was that argument against her being a milk slut.  But it had turned her on, and it led to another big orgasm.  That was strong evidence in favor of the milk slut designation.

Oh, those fingers!  Fingers in her pussy and another one up her ass.  From two different young black women.  Oh, this really was so slutty of her!

“American slut!”

Was Journee giving Americans a bad name with her sluttiness?  She hoped not.  She hoped they knew she was an exception and that most American women were not sluts like her.

“Milk slut.”

It was pretty hard to deny.  She wanted some more milk right then.  Who needed food if she had these two around all the time?

“American slut!”

“Milk slut.”

These damn natives.  These girl guides or whatever they were.  Liaisons?

They were liaisoning the fuck out of her!

Their fingerfucking made her body rise a few inches with each upward thrust and then slosh back into the water.  Just a few inches but anyone outside the pool, if they saw them this close and Journee moving like that, would figure out most of what was happening.

“American slut!”

“Milk slut.”

Thank God it was only the three of them.

The three of them.

Three!

Having sex.  More sex.

Journee had never wanted or thought she’d be part of a menage a trois.  Share a guy with another girl?  No way!  Let two guys have her at once?  Only total sluts did that.

But what about two black girls she barely knew?  If she wasn’t a sexist, and she wasn’t, then this must mean she was a slut.  Sex with two men at once or sex with two women at once should be equally slutty.  Either she was a slut or she’d have to change her opinion of a girl who had two guys at the same time.

Yeah, maybe she should do that last one.  She could just change her opinion.  That sounded easy.  Though perhaps “easy” was not the best word to use….

“American slut!”

“Milk slut.”

It was getting to Journee.  Big time.

She felt helpless and near orgasm again.

These two… fucking liaisons…!

These two fucking black bitches!

Rhone said, “American slut, why should I use my precious breath?  You should say what you are, not me.”

What?  Fine.

“I’m an American.”

“Yes, and what else?  Say it, or I will be most cross with you.”

Rhone was sexy and slim but wiry and strong and Journee was weak with arousal and too weak to fight her even in the best of circumstances.

She did not want Rhone to be “cross” with her.

Who cared who said it?  Rhone did, but Journee did not care.  It wasn’t like saying it made it true.

“I’m an American slut.”

Holy shit!  Saying it made it feel so real.  Probably the fingers in her pussy, the finger up her ass, and these two bitches water-sandwiching her also made it feel real.

Was it true then?

Rhone encouraged darkly, “Say it more times.  Keep saying it.  I want to hear belief in your tone when you say it.  I will know when you believe it, and you must say it until then and perhaps longer.”

“I’m an American slut.”

The water swirled and swelled with the thrusting arm movements of the African girls.

“I’m an American slut!”

Journee thought she was already feeling those words and not just those fingers.

“I’m an American slut!”

She sure said it now with enthusiasm. 

“I’m an American slut!”

Did she actually believe it?

“I’m an American slut!”

One thing for sure, she believed she’d soon orgasm….

Pindpo urged, “What about the other?  Say the other as well!”

What “other?”  Oh.  That.

“I’m a milk slut.  I’m an American slut!  I’m a milk slut!”

Rhone laughed, “Yes, we have the American speaking the truth now.”

Pindpo also laughed, “No more lies.  The truth is such fun!”

The truth wasn’t so much fun for Journee.  But those fingers inside her were.

“I’m an American slut!  I’m a milk slut!”

Pindpo said, “What else should we have her say as we finger her?  We can make her say anything!”

Rhone said, “This is true.  I know.  American slut, proclaim that Rambikku is better in all ways than America.”

What?  Calling herself a slut was one thing, either an American slut or a milk slut, but leave her fucking country out of this!

“No!  My country has nothing to do with this.”

“Your country has everything to do with this.  Your country sent you here.  You represent your country.  You are a slut.  Your country is a slut, too!  We Rambikkuns are not sluts.  Thus and so, our country is better than yours.  Say it is so!”

“Fuck.  Jesus.  Alright.  Whatever.  It’s true, okay?  Rambikku is better than America.”

These bitches!  They’d made her betray her country!

But those fingers sure felt amazing.  Her pussy hugged at Rhone’s fingers, and she pushed her ass backward onto Pindpo’s finger.  She worked her hips forward and back, fucking herself on both their fingers.

She thought Pindpo was the nicer one of these two.  But Pindpo had a finger up her butt!

But it didn’t hurt.  It didn’t feel nice so much as it felt… unearthly.  The finger up her ass made her pussy feel loose and yet also made it clench tight onto Rhone’s fingers.  It made no sense.

Nothing about any of this made any sense.

How could she act normal the next time she talked to Travis?  Would he sense she’d done something like this?

No way.  How could her “sort of” boyfriend ever figure out she’d drunk breastmilk and had sex with two African girls?

He wouldn’t know the specifics, but she’d have a hard time not giving away that something happened.

Damn him.  Why didn’t Travis ever make her feel this way?

He never stuck a finger up her ass.  He never made her talk nasty.  He never called her a slut.  He never made her betray America.

What the fuck was wrong with Travis?  He just didn’t get it!

“I’m an American slut!  I’m a milk slut!  Rambikku is so much better than America!”

Rhone and Pindpo laughed triumphantly.

Rhone said, “I hear it!  The American slut actually believes it now that she is an American milk slut.”

“I’m an American milk slut!” confirmed Journee.

“And why would she not?” questioned Pindpo.

“I’m an American milk slut!” Journee confirmed again.

Journee thought through her pleasure daze, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I believe it?  It’s true, isn’t it?”