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The birthday party begins.
When I felt all three of his cocks in my pussy, ass and mouth, I floated off into a haze of orgasmic frenzy. Way in the back of my mind I realized that what was happening was impossible, perhaps a dream, but I loved it.
My memories were foggy the next day. When I asked Dylan what had happened and described what I remembered, he laughed. "You had to be dreaming," he said.
"I'm sore back there," I said. "I can barely walk. Did we...you know."
"We sure did," Dylan said. "You loved it."
"That's because I love you," I said. At that point Dylan could do no wrong.
When I returned home Dylan told me that we were through. To say that I was shocked and hurt is an understatement. I begged him to tell me why. "After what we did. After what you did to me. Why?"
He snarled at me and said, "Because you're a fucking whore. You'll give your ass to anyone, won't you? I don't go out with whores. Girls like you are great for fucking, but for a relationship? I don't think so."
I wondered then if he ever cared at all about me at all. After an anonymous phone call told me what he had posted on the Internet, I knew that he had never cared for me. The moment of liberated joy I felt on our trip was now a moment of unmitigated pain.
I hovered my mouse over the picture of me topless and the picture of me writhing in agony as Dylan sodomized me. Worst was the video he posted, a video of many men taking me two at a time and, to my horror, three at a time. A frame popped onto the screen displaying the name of the site that hosted the pictures-****myasian*****.
Fighting tears, I laid my head on the table and tried to breathe deep. I remembered how I happily I let Dylan fuck me on the hotel balcony, not caring if anyone below saw us, and how I willingly let him video us. I was giggling when we made the video, but I never dreamed Dylan would make it public.
Seeing the pictures of him taking me from behind made I realize that Dylan had hidden his cell phones in various places and used them to video not only our private sex but the gangbang I had been subjected to. At the time I had wondered why he brought more than one phone on vacation, and now I knew. He didn't love me. He didn't give a damn about me. He used me and now was mocking me.
The most hurtful video was one of me staggering around on wobbly legs, obviously unaware of what had happened. The laughing and voices I heard only added to the pain.
Christ. Did you see that river of cum oozing from her pussy?
Ha. What about her ass?
And her chin.
Ha, ha, ha.
Where did you find her?
She's just some kid from the neighborhood. There are a lot more like her. I got me a fifteen year old chick all lined up. I like 'em young. Can't bring her here, though. We'll have to do her back in the States. Come on. Help me clean her up.
Can I fuck her again?
Sure. Make it fast.
"This is not over," I mumbled. "This is not over by a long shot."
My first instinct was to kill Dylan, but that would ruin my life if I got caught. No, I needed a better plan. I remembered Tom Wilson, an older man from the neighborhood who, according to rumors, was some sort of former spy and an expert hacker. I wondered if it were true so, shaking, I called his cell phone. "Can you meet me at the coffee shop?"
"Sure. Want to tell me why?"
"I'll tell you when we get together."
I tried to smile at Tom as he sipped a milkshake and I sipped coffee. Smiling became easier as I studied his salt and pepper hair and his rugged good looks. He was probably 40 years older than I was but I was attracted to him nonetheless. "Tom," I said. "Are you really a hacker?"
"Could be," he said. "Why do you want to know?"
"I...I want you to do something for me," I said. I described in as much detail as I could what Dylan had done to me. Then I made Tom an offer. "If...if you do what I'm going to ask you to do, I'll let you do to me what...what those men..."