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Archived Sex Stories


Wild Country

title="Wild Country"
author="Dan Singer"
keywords="M/F, work, rom, cons, jeal"

Copyright the author, all rights reserved. You may link to this story from
non-commercial or free sites, but you may not copy or use it for any purpose other than your own personal enjoyment.

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We were young, we were wild, we were...animals? The names and personal
details have been changed, but the facts remain. Guaranteed 99% true.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

WILD COUNTRY (c) Dan Singer 2002

When I was 26 I bought a Rambler Ambassador for $150. It was the cheapest
car on the lot, but it still ran, and for a while it ran surprisingly
well. It had power brakes, power steering, power windows and it was
gigantic. I bought it on impulse. The month before, my girlfriend had
packed up and left to attend grad school in Sweden. Martha was pretty,
affectionate and an excellent cook, but after 2 years of domesticity I was
bored, so I didnít even try to talk her out of going. I was actually
looking forward to dating. Hopefully a lot of different girls.

I lived in a university town where I pretended to work on a novel. Chiefly
to distinguish myself from all the other novelists, I had taken a job in
the corporate communications department of a public utility. It paid
fairly well, but I was required to wear a suit and I soon came to resent
the regular hours and stuffy atmosphere that I felt were stifling my
creativity. I complained loudly and endlessly and did very little work.
Finally, a week after Martha left, my boss ran out of patience, called me
into his office and fired me.

When I got over the shock of losing my job, I decided that it was really a
good thing. I had spent nearly 12 months as a wage slave and now I was
free. First, I went out and bought the Rambler. That cheered me up. Then
I decided I would stay at home, focus on the novel and collect
unemployment. And now that the chains had come off, I would get out and
make up for lost time.

Five months later, I had not added a single page to my novel, but I had
gone through all of my savings and was down to my last monthís rent.
Perhaps I didnít have enough experience to write, maybe that was the
problem, maybe Iíd smoked too much dope, or maybe I simply had nothing to
say. Fair enough. But what was galling in the extreme and totally unfair
was that now that I was unemployed, women avoided me like the plague. No
doubt they sensed my growing desperation. It seemed like years since that
last time with Martha among the scattered clothes and half-packed
suitcases. I hadnít realized how lucky I was. Now it was clear that what
I really needed was a schedule and a job.

Unfortunately, as I scanned the newspaper ads, I realized that we were in
the middle of a recession. There was not a job in sight, at least not one
that I could do. My counselor down at unemployment, Mrs. P_, had nothing
to offer either. She gently suggested that I might consider temporarily
working in another field. But what other field? I had some some
experience in carpentry and construction, but the area was filled with men who were really skilled in those trades, and they were out of work.

Mrs. P_ had a pleasant, open face, but was somewhat overweight and only
mildly attractive, and she was nearly twice my age, yet I found myself
mentally undressing her as we sat in her cubicle discussing my job
prospects. I imagined her sitting before me dressed only in pale blue
bikini panties, hungrily licking her lips as she twiddled the nipples of
her large breasts. Her breasts seemed to swell as her nipples hardened.
My penis tingled in sympathy. She closed her eyes, squeezed her legs open
and shut and soon a strip of darker blue formed on her panties in the area
covering her pussy. She stood up and wriggled out of her bikini bottoms
exposing her damp, curly bush.

Meanwhile, back in real life, this fantasy had gotten me so excited that my
penis was completely erect and a large bump that was impossible to conceal
had appeared in the crotch of my pants. The cubicle was not that big. We
were practically in intimate contact. The bulge in my pants bobbed up and
down as a surge of desire swept through my prick. I involuntarily groaned
and pretended to clear my throat.

What would Mrs. P_ say if she knew that 3 feet away from her, my penis was
completely hard and throbbing, and what I wanted most at that moment was
not a job, but the chance to rub my cock all around the folds of her pussy and plunge it into the depths of her cunt while sucking on those inviting
tits. She shifted in her chair and crossed her legs. Perhaps we were
communicating sub-consciously over some hormonal back channel.

I glanced around the cubicle and noticed a few family pictures. She
appeared to have 2 adult children, one of whom was in the Air Force and
looked about my age. That made her perhaps...still, she seemed awfully
young to have a kid that old, probably only in her early forties.

Mrs. P_ wrote something down on a pad of lined white paper, tore off the
sheeet and handed it to me. I read the words, "Wild Country animal farm and Amusement Park" and a phone number. Wild Country was hiring. As I
took the paper our hands touched. Her skin felt warm, and I left my hand
touching hers. Was it my imagination or did she hold the contact a second
longer than necessary? The phone rang and I practically jumped out of my
seat. "Donít forget to make that call," she reminded me. I gazed deeply
into her eyes and promised I would. As she picked up the phone, I placed
the paper over my bulge and got up to leave. Mrs. P_ called after me,
"Keep in touch."

I had heard about Wild Country. No matter how bad things got, Wild Country
was always hiring. I had gone there once on a company outing. The animals were sad, the facility was run down and the help was surly; it fit my mood
perfectly. So after procrastinating for only a few days, I made the call
and the next Monday showed up in the business office at 9 A.M. sharp.
Maybe they could use a publicist.

There was one other person waiting for an interview, a squat, chunky
ex-Marine named Russell, chain-smoking and coughing his way through a
24-ounce container of black coffee. His AA sponsor thought Wild Country
might be a good fit for him.

The interview was conducted by a tall, slender man in his 30ís with a long
blond ponytail, scraggly beard and wire-rimmed glasses. This was the
business manager, Foster, and he seemed eager to talk. Foster told me that
he was a caligrapher who had studied accounting. I donít know if he had
actually earned an accounting degree or had just taken a couple of business
courses or even knew how to add, but his uncle owned the park and decided
that Foster was going to run it.

Foster had no interest in running an amusement park or any other business
for that matter, but both of the ownerís sons, Fosterís cousins, had
substance abuse problems and were on probation. I had actually bought pot
from them a couple of times and found them friendly and honest, but the
uncle did not think they were suitable for management. They were probably
a lot more suitable than Foster, who dreaded coming to work and longed to
return to his studio.

Of course, like all would-be artists, what he really wanted was attention,
so I listened closely to his litany of complaints. The tedium was mind
numbing, the customers were morons, the staff was a bunch of monkeys. And
then there were the animals, hundreds of them, most of them sick and
depressed and all of them depending on him. The pressure was enormous. I
tried to sympathize. "Why donít you just quit, disappear, go to Paris and
paint?" "Donít repeat this," he confided, "but I sincerely wish I could.
There are some days I can barely get out of bed." Once Iíd met his
girlfriend Valerie I understood why; noone in his right mind would get up
and leave the luscious Valerie alone in bed.

On one of his good days, Foster had decided that what the park needed was a
real snack bar instead of the dilapidated old shack that sold drinks and
chips. He renovated an unused equipment shed and installed a refrigerator,
grill, counters and a few tables. It was called the Snack Shack, and now
he was hiring the help.

Foster felt I was a paisan, so he offered me a choice of jobs: sandwich
maker or sanitation engineer. I chose sandwich maker. Russell was also
hired as a sandwich maker, which made five of us, Russell, me, a pimply
teenager named Eddie who looked all of about 12, and 2 women, Sally and
Mona. Sally was about 20, tall and tan and so healthy she glowed, the kind
of girl you couldnít take your eyes off. Mona was cute but maternal. She
was short and chubby, about 30, with a couple of kids and no husband.

We all worked rolling shifts with at least 2 of us in the shop, and
sometimes 3. Russell was the only one who actually knew what he was
doing. He had been a chef before, and had even cooked in a couple of
semi-nice places. As a result, he did all the work.

The facility was supervised by Fosterís girlfriend Valerie. They had met
the year before when she was modeling for a figure class that Foster was
taking, and when he built the Snack Shack, he put her in charge. This gave
Valerie some spending money and allowed him to keep an eye on her, but it
also put Valerie in contact with a steady stream of randy guys. On the
other hand, that was probably inevitable.

Valerie was a bit older than me. She was pretty in a jazzy sort of way.
And she loved to talk. Soon we were spending lunch breaks together,
gossiping and trading tales, and before long I was infatuated with her.
Who wouldnít be? She was flirtatious, warm, funny, and she loved to show
off her legs and tits. She also reminded me of someone but I couldnít
think who. "Everybody says that," said Valerie, "but I'm not going to tell
you, youíll have to guess."

Finally it hit me. Valerie bore an uncanny resemblance to Betty Boop. Her
long, shapely legs seemed to reach way past her hips and her perky little
breasts truly deserved to be called titties. She had short black hair that
framed a kewpie doll face. She had actually served as a model for an
X-rated version of Betty Boop, a project that turned out badly, for Valerie
at least, when the animator, a woman well into her fifties, fell in love
with the model. This is not unusual, but the animator was insistent and
lost interest in the project when she was rebuffed. Half way through, she
replaced Valerie with another model who looked nothing at all like the
cartoon character but was less selective about her partners, and the film
was completed.

I saw it a few years ago. I was in a Blockbuster looking for The Seventh
Seal but found myself for some reason in the adult section, and there she
was, staring up at me from the cover of Betty Boop Does Manhattan. I
wouldíve known her anywhere. Of course I brought it home and screened it,
several times. The film had a split personality. Half was lush and funny,
perky, obviously inspired by Valerie. Half was angular and stark; dark,
bold, intense, which sounds like a French Roast but it wasnít nearly as
good. In the climactic scene, Betty takes on an entire city block at rush
hour, morphing from stark Betty to lush Betty, disposing of dozens of
partners, human and non-human, while riding a half-man half-steam shovel to
an endless, tumultuous orgasm. I shoulda stuck with Bergman.

So I asked her back to my place. "I couldnít, Singer, it would destroy
Foster, he would absolutely die." She always applied emphasis to her
words. "He wouldnít have to know," I protested. "Heíd find out, I know
he would. They always do." "Not from me," I assured her, "I never talk."
"Not while Iím living with him." "Why not, how would he know?" "Please,
heíd know."

She leaned into me, smiling, making eye contact, flashing me some
cleavage. Oh, she looked good. She didnít exactly mind my propositioning
her either, she was positively beaming as she told me she couldnít possibly
cheat on Foster. Clearly, she wasnít getting enough.

"How often do you two uh...get it on?," I inquired as delicately as I
could. "About once a week. Mostly we just fall asleep in each otherís
arms. Foster likes to cuddle." "He likes to what!?" I was outraged.
"Youíre so hot that just thinking about you gives me a hard on, and you
want to spend the night cuddling? This is a tragic waste. You of all
people...youíll have plenty of time to cuddle when youíre 80. Why, your
cunt and my dick could be in heaven right now. Letís not stand in their
way." And on and on in a similar vein. But though she enjoyed my sense of
humor, Valerie seemed unmoved, so regretfully, I had to write her off.

Meanwhile, I was becoming adept at sandwich making and even began to enjoy
it. There was something comforting about slapping slices of salami, roast
beef and provolone on a big hero roll, adding lettuce, tomato, onion and
peppers, and squirting salad dressing into the whole mess. Soon I could do
it in my sleep. And Russell taught me how to chop like a pro.

I particularly liked showing off my chopping skills for the girls. After
Valerie had cooled my jets, I shifted my attention to Sally. I sensed she
was also warming to me. She asked me about my background and seemed
interested in what I had to say. I even caught her checking me out when
she thought I wasnít looking. I had ignored her at first; maybe that had
piqued her interest.

Sally had developed quite a little claque, drawn mostly from the
maintenance crew, the sanitation engineers. They would crowd into the shop
during coffee break to drink cokes and gape at her. Occasionally, one of
them would make an awkward advance, along the lines of, "Hey baby, wanna
sit on my face?" but Sally ignored them.

Sally was definitely worth gaping at, and there were times I caught myself
staring at her like an idiot. She wasn't one of those flawless freaks of
nature nor was she glamorous, but she was quite simply radiant. She was
about 5'5" and her figure was nearly, but not quite, voluptuous. Her
smooth skin, regular features, open smile and thick chestnut hair gave the
impression of something fresh and uninhibited. At the same time, and she
was clearly aware of it, everything about her, her voice, her gait, her
movements, was sensual. God knows what she was doing at the Snack Shack.
Her parents were well off but she had just graduated from college, a year
early, and I think she was proving she could make it on her own. She could
just as easily have gone on an archeological dig or become an intern at the
White House.

We started out innocently enough, having lunches together behind the
counter, chatting about this and that. After a few days, I suggested we
take a walk. We finished our sandwiches and strolled down a winding path
that skirted most of the smellier animals. Soon we found ourselves in a
small meadow surrounded by tall maples. The sun was hot and we made our
way to a shaded area. It seemed a continent away from the rest of Wild
Country. Sallyís lustrous hair waved gently in the breeze. She was indeed
beautiful. Her firm body seemed to brim with health. She leaned back and
lay down in the grass, looking up and smiling at me. I reached down and
traced her face, her lips, nose and eyes. She sighed contentedly.

I noticed that our little meadow overlooked the habitat of the bonobo
apes. We could see the cute little creatures romping, eating and grooming
each other in a kind of joyous anarchy. I leaned over and brushed my lips
over Sally's. She raised her lips to kiss me but I backed off and teased
her. Finally, I gave her a full kiss and our tongues met, playfully
dueling like two dolphins in the sea.

Sally leaned on her elbow and gazed down at the bonobos, 2 of whom were now
copulating. She watched in silence and a slight frown creased her face.
After a while, the bonobo couple finished and Sally turned back to me and
said simply, "We have to get back to work." She stood up and brushed
herself off. The stupid monkeys had broken the mood.

As we walked across the meadow, I picked a small bouquet of dandelions and
ferns and presented it to her. Sally took my hand, I drew her to me and we
kissed. It was a sweet, romantic kiss, and it restored our mood.

We returned from lunch arm in arm. I gave Sallyís hand a squeeze and she
smiled back at me. I couldnít believe how well things had gone. Here was
a knockout with scores of guys vying for her, and she had fallen for me. I
wasnít all that bad but there were any number of guys who were better
looking. I couldnít believe my luck.

On the other hand, maybe noone had quite my combination of brains and
beauty. And depth. Brains, beauty and depth. In fact, it wasnít really
so surprising that she had fallen for me. I was quite a catch actually,
and Sally was lucky to have found me, or rather, she was lucky I had found
her.

I passed the afternoon thinking these pleasant thoughts while I considered
how best to close the deal. Romantic dinner, not too long, and then...her
place or mine? My place was familiar but it was crummy and bare. It
wasnít exactly a dump but it wasnít all that nice either. No doubt she had
a much nicer place, women always do. But what if she had a roommate?

And where to eat? The one really good place in the area was the
incongruously named Tomís Peephole. At a time when every restaurant had a
theme, the theme or rather, themes, of this steakhouse were voy and exhib.
The booths were surrounded by wooden cutouts of window frames, knotholes
and parted shower curtains. Each table had a pair of binoculars with which
to view the other diners. The entrance was shaped like a giant keyhole and
the plates, glasses and even the cutlery were stencilled with the keyhole
motif. The whole impression strove to be campy rather than leering or
ominous, as if to say, "Isnít this a hoot," and oddly enough, it was. Most
people got into the goofy spirit of it and did slightly outrageous things.
The food was pretty good, too. I hadnít eaten there since Iíd lost the
corporate job, it was too rich for my budget, but this was going to be a
special night, I could splurge.

When the shift ended, I strolled up to Sally to make plans for the
evening. She shut the door fast. No, tonight was no good, she had other
plans. Tomorrow? She didnít think so. When? Sheíd have to check. I
could ask her later in the week.

I was shaken, I didnít know what had happened. I obviously had missed
something but it all seemed so clear. I was mystified. Valerie was
surprised, too.

"I thought you two were a couple." "You thought..." I grumbled. Valerie
commiserated with me and then offered an alternative. "What do you think
about Mona?" I had never given her much thought. "She really likes you."
I was not that interested in Mona but I was curious, so I asked her for
details. "She thinks youíre really cute. Youíre her type, Singer.
Whenever you walk out of the shack, she goes..." and here Valerie imitated
a swooning maiden. "I think sheíd spread her legs for you in a minute."
"How do you know?" I asked, trying to prolong the compliment. "She told
me."

It was gratifying to hear that a fairly attractive woman was ready to
tumble for me, but I was also a bit disappointed. The mystery was gone.
Besides, although I might be her type, she wasnít mine. Mona was just too
settled, too unexciting, too round. Though she did have nice tits. Her
tits were memorable. Full, plump, a nice handful each, her pronounced
nipples often visible through tight t-shirts or clingy blouses. Her tits were her strong suit and she wisely led with them.

"Am I your type?" I asked Valerie. She paused to consider it. My mind
wandered back to Mona, her tits actually. What would Valerie look like
with big boobs? Not good, it wouldnít work. "Youíre one of my types," she
answered. "I could see going for you under the right circumstances."
"Such as?" "Such as not right now." That looked like a bit of daylight,
but I decided not to push my luck.

The next day, Sally and I went out for lunch again and the same thing
happened. We walked, we kissed, I held her, we even did some light
petting, and then nothing. I couldnít take it the next step. When it
happened a third time, I had to admit the obvious, the problem must be
sexual. She didnít want to have sex with me. But why? I asked Valerie if
she thought Sally was a virgin. Valerie doubted it. She thought Sally was
gay.

The next time we were alone I asked her directly, "Why wonít you see me at
night? Donít you want to go to bed with me?" Sally scrunched up her
face. "Why does it always have to be about that?" I couldnít believe
someone so sexy didnít want to have sex. "Are you a virgin?" I asked.
"What does that have to do with anything?" "You donít have to answer," I
told her. "Well, for your information, Iím not. Iíve had plenty of
boyfriends." "How many?" "More than you think." I wondered whether to
believe her. "I do feel something for you," she assured me. "But right
now I'm not interested in having sex. But I do want to learn about other
things." "What other things?" I asked. She kissed me on the lips and
rolled her tongue around my mouth. "Things like that."

This was a singularly unpromising relationship, but Sally had such
potential! She could be so affectionate, so lively and she was so goddam
beautiful. The truth was, I was hooked. At the same time, Eddie the
pimply teenager had also attached himself to Sally, but as a kind of
protťgť or slave. He assisted her at work, he ran errands for her in the
evenings, he even took her on shopping trips. We knew this because he
delighted in describing the trips to each of us in great detail. The
drives to this or that mall, the endless search for jewelry, the selection
of this rather than that article of clothing. And best of all, the visits
to the dressing rooms to help Sally on and off with her clothes.

"Heís just a kid whoís helping me," said Sally, "thereís nothing going on,
silly." I knew that any hint of jealousy would kill my chances, so I fumed
privately.

I decided that I needed the momentum of a date to move things forward, so I
asked Sally out again and this time she surprised me by saying yes. She
was free on Saturday. We would finally have a date, 8:30 on Saturday
night.

Saturday was a long day for me. My shift started at 8 in the morning and
didn't end until 6, and Saturday was always the busiest day, not that we
ever got all that busy at Wild Country. Still, I was on my feet throughout
the day and never really took a break. At 6, I raced home, worked out,
showered, shaved and dressed, and by 8:00 I was ready. I looked good, I
smelled good, I felt good.

When I arrived to pick up Sally for our date, Eddie opened the door. "What
are you doing here?" I blurted out before I could catch myself. "We just
got back from the mall, Sally wanted to go shopping," he grinned. "Come
here Eddie," Sally called from the bedroom, "Help me try this on." Eddie
disappeared into the bedroom beaming. "Shut the door." The door to the
bedroom swung shut. I sat on the sofa and stewed.

"This bra is killing me. Donít just stand there, help me get it off."
Sallyís voice carried through the door along with her ringing laugh and the
snap of elastic against skin.

As my gorge rose, I looked for something to break, something valuable but
not too valuable. On the table there was a cheap lamp with a bamboo shade,
an empty glass vase, a book of William Hopper prints on a table. What
would particularly annoy her but not get me in real trouble? I spied a
ball point lying on the coffee table, the kind that always smudged your
fingers. I picked it up and removed the cap. Maybe I could deface
something. The wall, the lampshade, the Hopper prints? Obviously the
couch, just try and get ink off upholstery. But now I had to come up with
something really good. "Dear cunt, fuck you" was totally lame, but what
else was there to say? My mind was blank. I had a severe case of writerís
block, I simply could not come up with an insult worth recording on her
cream colored couch.

"Turn around, no peeking. I said no peeking," her voice drifted out of the
bedroom. "Stop that." Then more giggles. I wanted to get up and leave,
but not only was I silenced, I was paralyzed.

That's when I came up with the idea for the doodle, a picture of a closed
hand with the middle finger extended. Of course it couldn't be too obvious
but she had to be able to find it. Small but not too small. I decided on
a spot on the inside of the sofa arm and busied myself drawing the hand.
When I was done, I sat back and relaxed, thoroughly pleased with myself.

Finally Sally emerged from her room wearing jeans and a peach colored top.
I had to admit she looked spectacular. Very simple but it fit perfectly.
She took in my reaction. "Well how do you like it?" "Not bad," I
muttered. She cracked a smile. "You better go now Eddie. Thanks for
taking me." "Any time," he said. She walked over and kissed him on the
cheek. "Bye honey," she said, and the little twerp was gone.

"Do you like what you see?" She was coming on to me. Maybe she felt
guilty. I shrugged. "Mr. Hard To Please." I couldnít help smiling.
"Then show some appreciation," she said. "Come feel my appreciation."
"Down boy," she answered, "Iíve had an exhausting day at the mall and I
need to relax." "What did you do at the mall?" "None of your business,"
she snapped.

I felt irritated with myself. Since when did I put up with such
treatment? When had I turned into such an jerk? Unfortunately, I was so
jealous I couldnít control myself. "I donít like to see you exploiting the
kid." "What kid?" she replied, "He can take care of himself better than
you." "The danger is," I continued, "heís gonna think all women are like
you. Youíre gonna make him gay." "Thatís bullshit," she shot back, but I
could see Iíd gotten her thinking. "Itís not bullshit," I protested, "That
boy is at risk. He's at a very impressionable age. Heís already showing
signs." "Like what?" "I think he wants to wear your clothes."

She looked at me like Iíd discovered something. So that was it. Iíd had a
feeling that might be why he liked to go shopping with her. "Heís about to
tip and itíll be your fault." She took a deep breath. "You are a total
jerk. You donít know what youíre talking about. Youíre completely wrong
about Eddie. Do you wanna know something...?" What now, I wondered.
"When I let him see my tits he gets very, very excited." She looked at me
evenly. "Maybe heís not jaded like you."

At this point I realized how hungry I was. I knew Iíd never score with
anybody in my present condition. "You wanna go eat?" I asked. Sally
brightened instantly. "Where are you taking me?" I had chosen Tomís
Peephole. I thought a steak might cheer me up. We walked to the Rambler
in silence and lumbered off.

As I drove I pondered my sorry state. Pissy, resentful, under-confident,
definitely not me. My firm studly self was unraveling. I was in danger of
becoming a houseboy like Eddie. How could I have let this happen?

I had cooked up some chili the night before and invited Russell over for
dinner. I was proud of my chili and was flattered when Russell praised
it. He was no pushover. We sipped our ginger ales and naturally, the talk
turned to women. "Howís things going with Sally?" he asked. "I donít
know," I admitted, "I seem to have stalled out." "Sallyís a nice girl,"
Russell said, "but if I were you I wouldnít waste my time on her." "Why is
that?" "Well if you want to know the truth, I think sheís kind of stuck on
herself." I mentally rose to Sallyís defense. Just because she didnít
want to have sex didnít mean she was stuck on herself. Maybe she just
didnít want to have sex. But if she didnít want to have sex, what the hell
was I doing with her, since I most certainly did want to have sex. "Lifeís
just too short," Russell concluded.

"Are you seeing anyone?" I asked him. "Me? Noone in particular. I try
not to let anything get too serious. Iíve been there, if you know what I
mean." I knew that Russell had been married briefly and not happily. "No,
Iím just playing the field." Russell playing the field was a little hard
to feature. He was a nice guy but he looked like Mr. Potatohead and he was
as broke as I was. "Who's in the field?" I asked. "I have an old flame
who comes to visit me from time to time and thereís someone from AA, and
then thereís this lady I just met down at unemployment. My counselor." He
chuckled to himself. "Sheís quite a package, I can tell you." My jaw
mustíve dropped.

"You ever think about Mona?" he asked. "No, should I?" "Well, she likes
you and sheís nice. I wouldnít throw her out of bed if I were you." Mona
mustíve told everyone. "I happen to like her a lot," he continued, "but
you understand weíre just friends."

Whatever else he could and couldnít do, Russell was clearly pretty good
with women. He had played a weak hand very well. Or maybe it wasnít such
a weak hand. What would Russell do in my place? It was obvious. He would
never let a woman destabilize his life. If he and the girl werenít hitting
it off, he wouldnít waste any time on her. He would tell her they were
mismatched, no hard feelings, and move on. He would never put himself in
my position, on my knees begging for a few crumbs of attention. So why
couldnít I just accept that Sally and I were mismatched and write her off
like Iíd written off Valerie? Why couldnít I move on to someone generous
and welcoming, someone like say, Mona?

Tomís Peephole turned out to be a good choice. It was cool and dark, and
our waitress was a knockout; lithe and tan, about 18, with a short black
mini and a tight t-shirt. I clowned around, gazing at her through the
binoculars, and she winked at me, licked her lips and took her time serving
us. This unnerved Sally and she gave the girl a hard time, sending her
steak back twice. By the end of the meal our roles had been almost
reversed. My confidence had been restored while Sally struggled to hold
her own against a hot number who was even younger and tanner than she was.
I doubled the girlís tip. She was worth every penny.

Next we proceded to Pinkyís, a dance bar with a hot late night scene. It
was still early, but the place was already going full tilt. We sat at the
bar and had a couple of beers. Going to Pinkyís was a risk. The place
attracted some very hunky-looking guys, jocks just out of college,
construction crews, surfer types. When she wanted to, Sally could be an
outrageous flirt. She could easily hook up with some sleeze bag on the
spur of the moment and leave me high and dry. On the other hand, there
were a lot of hot babes in circulation, too. I decided to chance it.

As the bar filled up, we drifted onto the dance floor. Whatever her other
limitations, the girl could dance. We started off slowly but soon we were
grinding in unison. When the music calmed down, I pulled her closer and
pretty soon we were pressed together by the sweaty crowd. I kissed Sally
and I thought she might be heating up, but then she moved away from me and
started to dance by herself.

As I watched her moving to the Rolling Stones, I thought if only I can fuck
this gorgeous sex goddess tonight, I can break the cycle, I can find
nirvana. Thatís what I thought as I watched this nearly virginal 20 year
old writhe in simulated orgasm as Mick Jagger begged, "Start me up."
Thatís also what was running through the minds of the 8 or 10 men who had
gathered, in various trance states, to watch and salivate. Sally basked in
their collective gaze, heated up and seemed to glow.

I reached out and took her hand to pull her toward me, but Sally yanked it
back. She wanted to be on her own. She now pretended to rub her tits while air-fucking some imginary stud. So thatís it, I thought, sheíd
rather have make-believe sex with a dozen men than real sex with me. Some
women had also joined the crowd, and now they clapped their hands in
encouragement. Sally closed her eyes and danced for them all. I turned
away and headed for the bar.

I squeezed my way in and ordered a beer. I glanced back over at Sally.
She was still holding forth for the crowd, but now I recognized one of her
admirers. Eddie had joined the knot of gawking men and now he was dancing
too, his hips rubbing hers as they twirled and banged against each other,
laughing, having a fine time.

I scanned the faces at the bar. It was now absolutely packed, but there
was no one for me. A bunch of half-drunk, over-buffed jocks and their
girlfriends. Everyone seemed to be taken. Then I noticed a familiar face
down at the other end. "Mona!" I cried, genuinely delighted to see her.
She squinted at me through the smoke and waved. I walked over to her.
"What are you doing here?" she said, "Whereís your date?" "Iím alone at
the moment," I answered. "Donít you have a girlfriend?" "Not tonight," I
said, trying to figure out how far I wanted this to go.

As we flirted, I noticed that the slit in her dress reached almost to the
top of her thighs and my cock gave an appreciative clench. Monaís chubby
legs now struck me as positively sensual. In fact, everthing about her
seemed sensual. Her gently curved lips, her rounded breasts with their now
prominent nipples, how would they feel rubbing my chest? Her delicate
hands seemed exactly the right size to enfold my cock. I could almost feel
her velvet touch. Even her laugh sounded enticing. Everything about her
seemed built for love.

I pulled Mona onto the dance floor and we moved slowly to a Brian Ferry
song, pressing against each other easily and swaying to the music. "How
about you," I asked, "are you here alone?" "Not exactly," she answered.
"What do you mean?" "You know Eddie...?" I nodded. "We came here
together." I raised my eyebrows. "Itís not really a date. We just drove
here in his car." She pressed her tits into my chest to let me know how
little Eddie mattered. "I do need a way to get home." "Donít worry about
that," I said, "Iíll get you home." I squeezed her ass and pressed her
tighter against me as I scanned the room for Eddie. Where was he when I
needed him? I finally spotted him on his hands and knees near Sally,
sniffing like a dog while Sally pretended to kick him away.

I kissed Mona on the mouth and she kissed me back. Things were moving
awfully fast. The kiss lasted a while and she must have felt how hard my
cock was because she murmured, "Oh, baby." "Iíll be right back," I said,
"donít go anywhere."

I pushed my way through the crowd to where Sally was carrying on. The music
had gotten so loud I could barely think. Eddie had risen to his feet and
had retreated to the edges of the group. I slapped him hard on the back
and he spun around. "Oh, itís you," he said, "Look whoís here." He
motioned to Sally. I nodded. "Are you here together?" he asked.

I ignored him. "Would you do me a favor?" He nodded, trying to be
helpful. "Whenever Sally decides itís time to go, sheís going to need a
ride home. Would you be able to take her?" He practically saluted, but
then he remembered something. "Unfortunately, I came here with someone
else." "Who?" I asked innocently. "Sheís over there at the bar." I
glanced over in that direction. "Mona?" He nodded. "Donít worry, Iíll
take her home. I donít mind." Eddie looked relieved. "Why donít you take
Sally?" "Okay," he agreed, happy to have my permission. "Thanks buddy," I
said. I smiled at him and winked. Eddie winked back at me, happy to be on
the team.

I returned to Mona and pulled her back onto the dance floor. As we
slow-danced, Sally and Eddie faded from my mind and were replaced by the
insistent heartbeat of my cock. Although confined inside my jeans, it
pressed up between Monaís legs and rubbed against her tummy. Her hand
wandered down and accidentally brushed against it. I wrapped my arms
around her and pressed my chest against her tits. We kissed deeply and I
let my tongue explore her smooth teeth.

"Are you trying to turn me on?" I said. "Do you like it?" she asked,
"maybe that's what youíve been missing." "It must be," I breathed.

I felt Monaís nipples rubbing up against my chest, and I wanted to suck on
them. "Show me your tits," I told her. "What?" "Show me your beautiful
tits, Iím gonna suck them. No one else can see." This was true. We were
so close and it was so dark that I doubted anyone would notice if she took
off her blouse. Mona exhaled audibly and her breasts swelled against my
chest, full and round. The idea was exciting her.

I started to unbutton her blouse. She didnít resist so I continued all the
way to her waist. Then I reached in and caressed her tits. They seemed
ready to burst free, barely contained by her bra as I rubbed them through
the fabric. Mona squirmed against me, breathing harder, rubbing her tits against my hands. I managed to unhook her bra and pulled the straps off
her shoulders. I slowly pulled her bra down over her breasts so she could
feel the material sliding over them. Her areolas were now coming into
view, large round circles of light brown. I rubbed my thumbs lightly over
them and she pushed her tits towards me, impatient for more attention.

I let her bra slide down lower until its top edge rested on her nipples and
gave them a gentle tug. She gasped and I caressed the top half of her
breasts with my fingertips, pressing in gently. I pulled her bra down over
her nipples and took each one between 2 fingers and gently squeezed,
rubbing up and down its length. Monaís legs buckled and she leaned against
me pushing her swollen tits into my hands.

I let her catch her breath. "Letís get out of here," I said, "thereís only
so much we can do." Mona eased her tits back into her bra and primly
buttoned up her blouse. I took her hand and we made our way out to the
car. As we passed Sally I thought I saw her glance in our direction. We
piled into the Rambler and pulled away from Pinky's.

As I drove, I brushed my hand along Mona's leg up toward the inside of her
thighs. I could feel the heat of her cunt. I let my hand graze the area
between her legs and then rubbed her pussy through her panties. The cloth
began to moisten.

With all this going on I couldnít see the road in front of me, so I pulled
the car over and parked. Mona unzipped my pants and freed my cock. I
circled the outside of her panties, stroking her pussy with my fingers and
thumb. Her panties were now drenched. I pushed the cloth aside and found
her tight little clit and gently rolled my fingers over it.

Mona closed her eyes and maneuvered my fingers into her cunt while she
scraped her fingernail across my chest. Her other hand gripped my cock.
It was throbbing and felt like it was about to burst. "I hardly know you,
but I canít resist," she said, "I have no self control." I knew I'd made
the right choice. Mona lowered her head to my prick and ran her tongue
over the tip and around the head.

There are few things better than making out in a car, and for the first
time in months I felt truly in my element. Monaís juices coated my hand
like syrup. She raised her head and looked up at me. Then she looked back
at my prick sticking straight up out of my pants. For a moment I thought
she might have us confused. She stroked her fingers lightly up and down my
cock and smiled. "Does this mean you like it?" she asked. "You deserve
the Nobel prize," I panted. "Mmm," she said, and gave my cock another
lick.

We finally pulled ourselves together, drove to my apartment and I let us
in. When you bring someone into your home, youíre forced, however briefly,
to see it through their eyes. My home was not a pretty sight. It was on
the ground floor of a sprawling cinder block complex. The pathway between
the buildings was lit by glaring mercury vapor lamps. I opened my front
door and switched on the lights. The living room was bare except for a
couch, armchair and floor lamp that came with the place. The wall-to-wall
green commercial carpet had an enormous dark stain in the middle. I had
forgotten about that. The refrigerator groaned in the background.

I had taped a couple of Picasso prints to the wall to give the place some
class, but now that I viewed them through Monaís eyes, they seemed crude
and sophomoric, their distorted bodies rendered by some leering sex fiend.
I lit a candle and turned down the lights. The Picassos faded mercifully
into the background. I turned on the radio. The college station was
playing some New Age crap. Perfect. Most of the time I couldnít stand
that moronic noodling but most women appeared to lap it up. It seemed to
make them horny, not that Mona needed any encouragement.

Mona was waiting for me on the couch and I sat down next to her. Her
breasts were still swollen and her large, hard nipples poked out through
the cloth. "Show me your beautiful tits," I said. This time she
unbottoned her blouse without hesitation and slipped off her bra. Her
gorgeous breasts poured out and I held them in my hands.

I moved one hand between her legs and found the large wet spot. I lowered
my mouth to her chest and drew one of her tits into my mouth, sucking the
nipple in and out. I rubbed my tongue all around it. "Oh, baby," she
groaned, "suck my tits."

I took Mona's hands and led her into the bedroom. At least I had made the
bed. We peeled off our clothes, wrapped our arms around each other, and
swayed to the music. I cupped her ass in my hands and pressed her against
me. I felt her tits pressed against my chest and my cock squeezed
comfortably between us. Mona felt hot and she smelled good. We tumbled
onto the bed.

I hadnít used a rubber in months, so it took me a little while to tear open
the package and roll it on. Perhaps this was a good thing because it gave
me a little time to calm down. I pressed my cock against Monaís squishy
cunt and easily slid all the way in. I moved slowly, but Mona liked fast
action. She held my ass and was soon sliding and grinding against me for
all she was worth.

After a while she slowed down and stopped. "You all right?" I asked. "Let
me come on top," she said. We rolled over and Mona sat on my prick. She
moved up and down slowly and seemed to savor each stroke. I cupped her
breasts in my hands and then sucked one of them. She moaned her approval.

I remembered that old chestnut: the way to delay a climax is to think about
baseball scores. Iíd even tried it once or twice, to no great effect. But
now, without my willing it, baseball popped into my head, a World Series
game Iíd seen the year before. As Monaís tempo speeded up and her moans
grew deeper and more insistent, I saw Bill Buckner booting Mookie Wilsonís
ground ball. Buckner watched the ball bounce through his legs, Mookie
bounded up and down, and then Mona was coming, happily grunting "Oh, oh,
oh, oh baby, oh baby, come baby, come!" while her rhythmic spasms gently
gripped my cock.

My cock was pressed all the way into her pussy and filled with its own
urgency, and I continued moving inside her for one, two three minutes, but
I just couldn't come. After all that build-up and anticipation, I was
stuck on the edge, and after a while, I just gave up. Mona kissed me and
collapsed against me. She was exhausted.

After a little while, Mona rolled off. She reached over to her bag and
pulled out a pack of menthols. She lit up, leaned back against the
headboard and quietly exhaled. Mona, content and at rest, looked stately.
Her large breasts glistened with sweat, her dark brown hair fell across her
face, and my cock stirred at the sight. Why hadnít Buckner reached down
for that ground ball? Probably fatigue, he was just too tired. My cock
was still hard, and I wondered if Mona might like to have another go. I
lay my head on her thighs where I could inhale the fragrance of her pussy and study the folds of her cunt. Then I fell asleep.

The doorbell rang. I opened my eyes but the bed was empty. Where was
Mona? I heard the shower turn off. She must be in the bathroom. The
doorbell rang again. I sure wasnít expecting anyone. Hardly anyone even
knew where I lived, and it was past midnight. It was probably a mistake.
On the other hand, it might be an emergency. My neighbor might have had a
heart attack, my car might have rolled down the hill, the building might be
on fire. I pulled on my underpants, stumbled out and opened the door.

It was Valerie. She stood in the doorway in a long India print dress and
sandals, head at a slight tilt, posing. "I was driving by and I saw your
car." I blinked at her. "Fosterís gone for the weekend. Heís at a
wedding, and I got lonesome. You wanna invite me in?" I stared at her,
speechless.

Valerie looked past me into the apartment. Her eyes caught some movement.
"You with somebody?" I turned around as Mona padded out of the bathroom.
I caught the outlines of her voluptuous tits and her round ass, and my cock
stirred in my underpants still hard in anticipaton of another ride. Mona
had not yet seen Valerie. "Do you have anything to eat?" she called out.
I looked back at Valerie. "Let me put something on," I said. "Donít
bother," she muttered.

I expected Valerie to turn and leave but she didnít. She might have been
annoyed and disappointed, but perhaps she was also a bit intrigued by the
whole scene. Plus, she didnít want to go back home, there was noone to
cuddle with.

I walked into the bedroom and threw on a pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt
and straightened the bed. I scooped up a used condom and threw it away.
When I returned to the living room, Valerie and Mona were sitting on the
couch chatting amiably. Mona had not bothered to put anything more than a
blouse on. She sat cross-legged at one end of the couch. Valerie sat at
the other end, legs tucked under her. Mona looked up. "What do you have
in the fridge?" She turned to Valerie. "You hungry?" Valerie nodded. "I
havenít eaten all day. Iím starving."

Where do they think they are, I wondered, a cafeteria? I opened the
refrigerator and looked. There wasnít much except for beer, but there was
a lot of that. I pulled out a can of old Milwaukee. It felt delightfully
cool in my hand. "Anybody want one?" Mona shook her head. "Weíre hungry
for some food. And sheís starving."

I popped the can and checked out the other shelves. There was a loaf of
bread and some cheese. Also some sliced ham, a head of iceberg lettuce
(this was before people discovered it was inedible) and a plastic container
with the leftover chili. I was hoping to save it.

"Who wants a sandwich?" I called out. Valerie made a face. I scanned the
refrigerator again and discovered a carton of eggs. "How about some
scrambled eggs?" Valerie came over to check. "Thereís some tater tots in
the freezer," I said. Valerie pulled out the carton of chili and slapped
it on the counter. "Whatís this?" "Itís just some leftover chili." "Heat
it up," she said, "I just love chili. What about you?" "Oh yeah, me too,"
said Mona.

At this point, eggs ranchero didnít sound so bad. Itíd been a while since
the steak and it wasnít all that big. I made the eggs, chili and tater
tots while the girls chatted at the table. Then I set down our plates and
we tucked into the food. It was 3 am.

The meal revived me and I began to feel a little horny again, especially
for Valerie. It was impossible not to feel horny, sitting right across the
table from her, but Mona was in the way. If it wasnít for Mona, if it
wasnít for goddamn Mona...it was true she was lush and sensual, and she had
just fucked the living daylights out of me, but there was something slack
about her. The shape of her jaw, the lie of her breasts, even the pout of
her lips was relaxed. I noticed that her nipples had subsided into their
areolas, enjoying what I suppose was a well-earned rest. Slackers, I
thought, get back up! She leisurely picked at a bean that had lodged
between her teeth. How complacent, how carefree, how self-satisfied. She
was much too satisfied with herself sitting there spooning down my chili,
she was much too content.

Valerie, on the other hand, was anything but content. Her pert little
titties poked out when she leaned forward, their eraser tips pressed up
against the fabric of her dress. Her tits were not content at all. They
longed to be sucked, stroked and licked. Nor were her thighs content. She
crossed and uncrossed them, squeezing her legs together as she shifted her
weight. She emitted a little sigh. She definitely wanted some attention.
Her pussy was in direct communication with my cock, elongating it,
hardening it, making it tingle and jump. God, how did she do that? My
cock snuck out of my underpants, snaked its way down my leg to the edge of
my shorts, and poked its head out. Now I had a real problem. I could not
stand up without exposing my considerable erection, and I could not
concentrate on anything else.

"Is there any more chili?" asked Mona, her mouth full of toast. Her eyes
had not left the plate. "Iíll go check," I answered. What the heck, I
thought, weíre all grownups here. I stood up, increasing the pressure of
my shorts on my distended organ and sending an intense wave of pleasure
through my cock. This brought me perilously close to orgasm and the
realization that I was about to come almost brought on my climax. My eyes
widened and my face flushed as I tried to fight off the urge to give in to
the blissful sensations in my prick. My penis stretched out to its full
length, and the entire head plus a good 3 inches stuck out from underneath
my shorts.

Valerie stared at me, a quizzical expression on her face. She slowly
licked her lips, her tongue tracing the circumference of her mouth and
lingering at the top. She rested her tongue on the top of her lips and
tapped a come hither gesture. I stared at her. It felt as though her
tongue was licking my cock. I shook my head and mouthed, "Donít, please."
She looked down at my crotch and then back up at me, and she mouthed back,
"Do me."

I spun around before Mona could lift her gaze from the plate, but the
damage was done. My cock was already throbbing in near orgasm. I held
onto the kitchen counter as the intense feelings pulsed through my crotch.
I bit my lip hard to keep from groaning out loud and closed my eyes as my
climax started, its intensity amplified by the pressure of my jeans on my
cock and my total, utter embarrassment.

"Is there any more left?" inquired Mona. "No, oh, ohh, no," I answered.
"What?" she said, "what?" My legs shook uncontrollably, and my penis began
to pump hot jets of semen that ran in sticky rivulets down my leg. "No,
ohh, itís...all... done," I managed, and turning my back to the girls,
stumbled into the bathroom and shut the door. I was out of breath and in a
state of semi-shock, my cock still pumping little jets of come. I pealed
off my pants and underpants and sat down on the edge of the tub to cool
down, but the pressure of the porcelain on my butt made my orgasm flare up
again, and I groaned helplessly as spasm after spasm shook my legs and
crotch and pumped what come remained out of my prick.

When my climax was finally done, I climbed into the shower to wash off the
evidence. My legs and thighs were still shaking, and my penis was still
hard. I gingerly rinsed off the come, but almost as soon as I touched the
head, it erupted in another orgasm, and I stood in the shower, legs
shaking, water pelting down my face, holding onto my cock with both hands
as it came and came and came. Finally, exhausted and drained, I lay down
in the tub and let the water rinse me clean.

"You took a shower?" Mona asked when I returned in a fresh set of clothes.
"Yeah, I wanted to get cleaned up," I answered. She stood up. "Can you
take me home?" "Sure," I said, "you ready?". Mona went into the bedroom
to put on her clothes, the tops of her legs rubbing together as she
walked. I thought I detected a sheen of pussy juice lubricating her
thighs. I had to admit she looked delectable.

I glanced over at Valerie. Her black eyes were laughing. "You better give
that thing a rest," she giggled, "itís a real menace, especially on clean
carpeting." "Youíre the menace," I said, "you created the monster." She
nodded. "Yeah, I tend to do that." I shrugged. "Bad timing." "Yeah, bad
timing," she agreed. I took her hand. "Maybe some other night." "Yeah,"
she said, "maybe some other 3 a.m. Watch for a sign." She winked at me
and gave my hand a squeeze. Then she opened the door, walked to her car
and drove off.

With Valerie gone, Mona became affectionate. Although she was supposed to
be leaving, she rubbed her hands across my chest and gave my cock an
exploratory stroke. This gave me shivers, but I was ready to take Mona
home. We walked out to the Rambler which still bore the intoxicating smell
of Monaís pussy. The stars were out, the roads were deserted and silent,
it was hard not to feel transcendent, and now that Valerie was gone, I
began to feel tender towards Mona. I was sorry for my ugly thoughts. She
had a luscious body and she fucked like an angel. She had made me happy,
and now I wanted to reciprocate. I slipped my hand between her thighs and
she pressed them together. I moved my hand up higher and through her jeans
I gave her pussy a grateful squeeze. We pulled up into her driveway. "Bye
baby," she said, "keep some for me." "You, too," I said.

I drove back home and collapsed into bed. It was a little past 4. If I
fell asleep now I could still get 8 solid hours of rest. My shift at Wild
Country didnít start until 1 p.m. I could sleep till noon and still have
plenty of time to make it in. Unfortunately, I was wide awake. I reviewed
the eveningís events. My humiliation at Sally's hands and my revenge. The
orgy on the dance floor with Mona and our consummation in the bedroom.
Valerieís inopportune visit and her mind fuck. It was too much for my poor
overworked brain. My cock needed a vacation, even if it was half hard
again. My head was throbbing, and not in a good way.

I wondered what had happened to Sally. Did she ever make it home or did
she hook up with some sleeze bag at the bar? Did Eddie take care of her or
did he abandon her too? I finally drifted off to sleep.

Someone was banging near my head. Bam, bam, bam, smashing what sounded
like a 2 by 4 against the wall. It was explosively loud. I covered my
ears but the banging got even louder. It was inside my head. I opened my
eyes. The clock said 6:20 and someone was hammering on my front door. The
hammering stopped every so often and then started up again.

It must be Valerie, sheíd come back for me now that Mona was gone. Poor
Valerie, I was in no condition to service her. "Iím coming," I called,
"Iím coming," and the banging finally stopped. I pulled on a clean pair of
underpants and made it to the front door.

Sally was standing outside tapping her foot. She pushed past me and walked
inside. "Did you get home ok?" I asked. "You fucking asshole, you total
loser, I donít know why Iím even talking to you, itís a complete waste of
my time and breath, you piece of shit, and donít ever expect me to talk to
you again, you jerk." She stopped to catch her breath. "I was--" "Donít
interrupt me. Iíll tell you when Iím finished." I walked over to the sink
and searched for some aspirins while the denunciation continued. I
desperately wanted to get back to sleep.

"I felt something for you and I thought you felt something for me, but it
was nothing, was it? Was it?" She waited. It was my turn. "No, I did
feel something for you." "Liar. You felt nothing for anyone but yourself
and you proved it by leaving me at the bar as soon as you ran into that
little whore. Donít think youíre so special. Everyone knows she sleeps
with any piece of shit that walks by. How could you do that to me?" I had
no answer. "And to think that I was going to let you fuck me. Now I
wouldnít even touch you."

That got my attention. "You were?" I asked. She nodded. "Why do you
think I went shopping for a new outfit? Why do you think I teased you at
my apartment? I even told Eddie I was ready to let you fuck me. He
thought it was a good idea."

"Well, I guess I ruined everything," I said. "No," she answered, "you
didnít ruin anything. Iím glad you showed me what youíre like because I
didnít really want to fuck you at all. I was just doing it because youíre
such a pest." "Well, I really did want to fuck you," I said, "and Iíll
always be sorry I never had you. Always." My cock had begun to stir. It
felt achy and overworked but it was half-hard nonethless and bulged in my
underpants.

Sally was silent. I sensed she had something to tell me. "Did Eddie take
you home?" I asked. She paused. "I let him fuck me." She was bragging.
"How did it go?" I asked. "Get your mind out of the gutter," she snapped.
Against my better judgment, my cock was getting harder, pushing against my
briefs. I wondered if Sally had noticed. Her eyes darted to my crotch and
then back to my face.

"Thereís one thing I want to do before I go," she said. I wondered what
that was. She moved closer to me. I figured that having vented her anger
she was feeling sentimental. She wanted a big passionate kiss. I leaned
in towards her, wondering how she would regard my hard prick. She slapped
me hard in the face, so hard my head flew back. My ears rang and the blood
gathered in my cheeks, but oddly enough, the shock made my cock instantly
hard. It stuck out to its full length and my underpants stretched out like
a tent.

Sallyís eyes travelled down my body to my crotch. The cloth of my cotton
briefs outlined the purplish head of my cock. The head visibly pulsed, a
pulse that was echoed in my pounding heart. She looked up at me and then
down at my prick. Then Sally knelt and slowly slid my briefs down over the
engorged head of my cock. My underpants dropped to my feet. Sally took my
cock in her hands and held it. She stroked it back and forth and lightly
rubbed the glans.

She looked up at me, uncertain how to procede. I wondered what she had in
mind. Then she lowered her face and put my cock in her mouth. Sally had
not had much experience. I winced as she scraped her teeth over my
sensitive glans and gagged on my swollen organ. I was afraid her coughing
spell would leave teeth marks all over it. Even so, her enthusiasm was
winning, and I tried to encourage her with lots of "Mmmís," "Oh yeah,
babyís," and a few "softerís". Soon my penis was numb. Hard but numb.

On the other hand, kneeling in front of me with my cock in her mouth seemed
to get Sally turned on. A blush covered her face and spread down her
shoulders, and her breath had quickened. I reached down and circled my
palms on her breasts. She moaned and pressed them into my hands. I milked
her tits firmly through the fabric of her bra and pulled on her nipples.
She groaned her approval. Sallyís arousal began to affect me. The
encounter with Eddie must have have left her unsatisfied.

I removed my cock from her mouth and raised Sally to her feet. I slipped
her jeans and panties down over her hips. Sally stepped out of them while
I pulled her blouse over her head. She shrugged off her bra and her tits sprang free, firm white ovals pointing out slightly to the side, tipped
with deep red nipples. Each nipple was surrounded by a small maroon
areola. I stared at her gorgeous tits and my cock bobbed up and down. The
numbness had been replaced by pure desire. I longed to feel my cock
pressing into her pussy.

I led her over to the couch and she lay down, legs slightly spread. Then I
put my cock between her legs and drew it back and forth over the outside of
her pussy like a bow across a violin.

Sallyís hips moved back and forth, pressing the stem of my cock up against
her little button. The outside of her cunt was beginning to get slick as
Sally maneuvered the head of my cock over it. I was in no hurry, but she
must have been ready because she reached into her jeans and pulled out a
condom. I tore open the foil pack and slipped it over my cock, grateful
not to have to interrupt our progress for a frantic search through the
bedroom.

Finally, I lay on top of her and slipped the head of my cock into her
pussy. For a while we stayed like that. Her cunt was so tight and my
penis so swollen that I couldnít get much more in. I let it rest there and
applied a little pressure so she could feel her cunt being stretched. Then
I reached down and gently frigged her clit.

I was so aroused that despite my fatigue, I felt an orgasm building.
Sallyís clit seemed to tighten, and she pushed back against my prick,
trying to work more of it into her pussy. She worked it almost all the way
in, and we built up a rhythm, and then suddenly she was shouting, "Oh, fuck
me, fuck me dammit, fuck me you prick." I moved harder against her but she
kept saying "Fuck me, harder, harder, harder" so I did. As I banged into
her she seemed to gasp for breath, and then her cries reached a crescendo
and she groaned "Yes, yes, yes," and my body just took over and shook and
spasmed while the intense feelings surged through me, wave after wave after
wave, until I actually passed out. I had never come like that before and I
never have again. We lay tangled on the couch, my cock still inside her,
her cunt still gripping my prick.

When I looked up, Sally was zipping up her jeans. I was too exhausted to
move. She looked down at me. "You owe me three hundred dollars for the
couch, prick." "What?" I said. "You heard me. Three hundred dollars."
She turned on her heels and left.

After that one time, Sally and I never got together again. I gave her some
money for the couch, not the whole three hundred but enough to clean it.
She still stayed mad at me, but that didn't matter. What had gone on was
unrepeatable.

Valerie did not come in to work that day or the rest of the week. No one
knew where she was but I suspected she was gone for good. Foster sulked
inside his office. He blamed us, mostly me, for Valerieís disappearance,
and the following Monday, he announced that the Snack Shack was closed for
renovations. We were all laid off.

I said goodbye to Russell, Mona, Sally and the whole gang and loaded up the
car. I was ready for a fresh start. The Rambler got me to Colorado before
it gave out. The brakes had been going for some time, and I finally
decided it wasnít worth fixing. I traded it in for a Camaro.
Dan Singer
singer@radiolink.net

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