Tracy the Crack Whore III

That night, Sean dreamt he was floating high above the apartment buildings across the street from his house. Dark storm clouds were gathering, and a thrashing wind tore at his clothes and whipped his hair painfully across his face. Sean watched as the dark clouds formed an angry mob around his house. Jockeying for position, the clouds, bumping and pushing, bristled with energy and began circling his home. Sean wrestled with the wild hair stinging his face; looking at his hand, blue arcs of electricity jumped from finger to finger. Things were getting bad in his neighborhood.

He watched as his house swelled, the clouds crowding closer, threatening to ignite in a flash of lightening, explode in thunder. As his house swelled and swelled, Sean clearly heard the groaning of tired wooden beams, the scraping of hard clay bricks against solid mortar, shingles fled his roof, took to the air. Trying to stand, the air under Sean refused to support him any longer; he dropped, falling, watching his house struggle to survive, remain intact. With a roll of thunder, every window in the house blew outward as Sean fell, arms and legs flinging wildly. TRACY! Lightening lit the World. Crack!

Sitting up in bed with a gasp, Sean struggled to control his fear. His quiet, dark room reassured him, there was no storm, his house was intact, safe. Taking a deep breath, Sean collected himself, and shook off his foolish dream. Climbing from bed, he slipped on his sweat pants, gazed at his clock. Three in the morning, and he needed a drink of water.

Slowly walking to his bathroom in the dark, Sean found his sink, turned on the cold water. Leaning over, he cupped his hand under the faucet, catching some water. Bending down, he drank, long swallows, calming his uneasy mind. Satiated, he turned off the water, wiped his hand on his sweats, and stepped back. His heel landed on something, under his weight he heard the shatter of glass.

No pain.

Whatever it had been, it was tiny, and hadn’t sliced into his foot. Turning on the light and lifting his foot, Sean held his heel over the sink and brushed away small dust-like fragments of clear glass. Inspecting the floor, he saw a glint of light, a reflection. Stooping, he found a tiny section of glass tubing, edges jagged, broken and cracked. Crack pipe? He threw it in the trash can. With a little ‘clink’ it seemed to land on more glass. He turned off the light and gazed down the dark hallway. His living room was lit with a golden glow. Tracy.

He found her there, sitting on the hardwood floor, facing a corner, her back to him. She was rocking slowly. Her shoulders were slumped, her legs crossed, her arms in her lap. Her pretty blond hair was a mess. What was going on?

His TV was on, but there was no sound. The silence was oppressing. Sean saw his headphones in the fireplace, smashed to pieces. And then Tracy sniffled. Instinctively, Sean stepped toward her, into the living room, step after step drawing closer to the shivering teen. She sobbed, nearly choking. Her shoulders shook, her face fell into her hands.

Sean set his hand on her shoulder, gently. Like a dust devil rising from the desert floor, Tracy sprung up in a flash, cobra-quick.

“AHHH!” She hollered. Winding up, she launched an assault. Sean stood back, her fist flew just under his chin. Their eyes locked. Sean took another step back, and watched her pupils widen in recognition, he heard the intake of a sharp breath, her startled face relax minutely, as her foot swept past his crotch.

“Tracy!” Sean called, reaching for her. Her tightly coiled body, muscles taut, limbs deployed aggressively – relaxed. Sean watched as the energy dissipated from the teen, seemingly falling from her body, soak into the floorboards. Tracy slumped, her eyes tormented, her hands reaching out to him. He reached for her and guided her to the floor. Sitting with her, Sean took her into his arms and held her. Gently at first, then more urgently until he was holding her with nearly all his might. He pulled her into his chest and felt her warm tears on his skin. After a minute, Tracy whispered she was thirsty.

Later, after she finished a glass of cold juice, he dabbed tears from her eyes.

Later, as he drifted off to sleep in his bed, he held her tightly in his arms. He dreamt again.


Behind the red velvet ropes, Sean stood naked in a long line of naked men. He shuffled across the red carpeting of the theater lobby until the line stopped moving. Sean set a hand on the large brass ball that rested atop the brass pole holding up one side of the red-velvet ropes. The ball shocked him, a small charge of static electricity that ran through his hand, tingled his wrist.

The usher walked down the line, selling condoms; no one was buying. The cop walked into the lobby carrying a deflated balloon, threw it on the floor, and wiped his hands on his blue pants with disgust. Then the usher unfastened a section of the red rope, and allowed the first man through. The man reached for two deflated legs of the balloon and started blowing between them, inflating, and inflating. Puff…Puff

“Oh yes!” Tracy cried, coming to Life, her nearly limp arms reaching for the man’s head. “Yes!” The man blew and blew, and the usher let another man through. The second man put his head between Tracy’s legs and blew, and blew. “Fucking making me come!” She reached for the first man’s erection, taking it into her mouth, her legs wrapping tightly around the others head. “Mm”

Soon the two men had her spit-roasted, as the usher let another man through the ropes. Sean would get his turn tonight, for sure! The men lifted Tracy, fully inflated, off the floor, and fucked her hard, brutally hard. “Harder” They filled her holes. The first man came on her face with a growl, and threw money into an empty popcorn bucket. “Prick!” Two men faced one another, Tracy in between, gleefully riding their cocks, squealing in delight. She looked at Sean and flipped him off. “Fucker!”

The men erupted in climax, and Tracy seemed to rise, lifting and squirming, crying out. “Oh!” More men gathered around her, the largest, a giant, brushing everyone aside. His enormous cock frightened Tracy. “Sean!” Now impaled on the huge cock, Tracy cried out again “Sean!” The large man held Tracy up, impaled on his cock, and carried her toward the men in line. When he reached the red ropes, he lifted the teen off his cock, and spread her ass cheeks.

“She wants you, bud” The giant said, setting Tracy down atop the shiny brass pole right in front of Sean. Tracy’s face contorted in pain, as the giant forced her down on the ball. Her legs spread wide, stiff in agony, her pretty pussy bald and wet, her asshole sliding over the brass ball. Tracy shrieked. Her eyes filled with tears. Other men were crowding around Sean. The giant pulled Tracy’s legs apart, painfully wide, exposing her pussy, her brass-filled ass. Men jostled around Sean, pushing him aside.

“Don’t you want her, buddy?” the giant asked Sean. Struggling against the crush of men straining to fuck Tracy, Sean hollered. “Let her go!” Sean was pushed further and further away. He couldn’t see Tracy anymore! But he heard her.

“Sean?” She cried. “Sean!”


“Sean?” Sean was stirred awaken by Tracy, sitting next to him on the bed. “I made you French toast, Sean.” He gazed at her pretty young face, now free from the torment that had haunted it just hours earlier.

“Where’s that erection, Mister?” She asked sweetly. “When I brought your coffee in a minute ago, it was alive and well…”

The vividness of Sean’s latest foolish dream had dissipated, only a fog remained.