Chapter 8
Hank was still suffering and not quite with it when Mrs. Bell called him into her office at ten o'clock that morning.
"I've been watching your work," Mrs. Bell said, "and I like what I see." Hank was pleased. Mrs. Bell was the sole owner and boss of the book distribution, company where he worked. Consequently, to please the boss meant everything. She decided the best jobs, the working hours, and most of all, how much money you were paid.
"Well, thank you. Thank you very much!" Hank knew he was flushing from the praise.
"And," Mrs. Bell went on, "you look none the worse because of your two-week honeymoon. How do you like married life?"
"Oh, it's great, wonderful!" Hank was a little confused. What in the world was she driving at?
"Yes, it is." Mrs. Bell looked out her window. "I never could stand being single. I miss it terribly since Mr. Bell passed on."
"Oh!" Hank said. Maybe it was due to the effects of his drunk last night, but darned if he could follow this conversation.
"Yes," Mrs. Bell continued, "it's been a year now and sleeping alone is driving me crazy." She looked back at Hank. "A year is long enough for mourning, isn't it?"
"Yes, Ma'm."
"Ma'm!" Mrs. Bell sly-smiled, "I'm not a ma'm yet, am I? I'm only forty-two. Is that old enough to be a ma'm?"
"Oh no, Ma'm!" What in the hell was she driving at? What was going on?
"Betty," she said, "call me Betty. Now!" she glanced down at some papers on her desk. "You've been with me three months now. Long enough for us to talk about your performance on the job and perhaps a raise." She looked up and smiled again. "I suppose you could use a raise, now that you have a wife?"
"Sure could, Ma'm, I mean, Betty." Hank got the good feeling back, now that he knew what it was all about. "I certainly could."
"Yes." Betty smiled. "How much do you think you're worth?"
"Well!" Hank fidgeted from one foot to the other. What the hell could he say? If he said too much he wouldn't get anything. If he asked too little he would be kicking his ass for not asking more.
"Tough question, isn't it?" Betty chuckled deep in her throat. "Well, don't worry about it. I'm flexible. You see, I told you that I have a need. So! The more you're willing to, ah, compromise, the more money you will get. Do you understand?"
Hank didn't. "Not really. What need? What compromise?" He was completely baffled. Damn, but he wished he hadn't drunk so much yesterday.
"Oh you devil!" Mrs. Bell smiled again. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, so make up your mind. I like young boys and forty-two is not old! And I don't think I'm that bad to look at. If you don't want to please me, you can get ten dollars and be put in shipping. However, if you want to ease a lonely woman's needs, you get twenty-five a week and maybe, in time, take over as foreman. It's that simple."
It hit Hank like a sledgehammer! She was propositioning him! Good Christ! He had never been propositioned before in his life and she was doing it. Oh shit. Golly! Fucking at home and fucking at work: He must have died and gone to heaven. He grinned back at Mrs. Bell. "I'll take the twenty-five. When do we start?"
Mrs. Bell let her breath out and grinned back. "Lock the door."
Hank was surprised when Betty finally stood naked before him. No. Surprised wasn't the word. Amazed, delighted, flabbergasted, all fit the bill. She was forty-two, but her figure and skin texture was that of a teenager.
Mrs. Bell was a statuesque beauty, almost six feet tall and weighed about one hundred and thirty-five pounds. She had her brown hair in a bun, that when unrolled and shook loose, cascaded about her satin ivory shoulders like misty down. Her breasts were exceptionally large, solid looking melons of luxurious, enchanting delight. Her velutinous, belly skin was tight across hidden, sensual muscles and her triangular mons bush puffed with flaxen blond hair. Oh she was lovely! Hank's prick was already standing at attention and aching for cunt-juice. He kicked away his pants and shorts and jumped on the couch. "Come on," he said, "I'm so horny, I could die."
Betty laughed. "Not there!" She patted her desk. "Here!" She still smiled at him but lay her breasts on her desk and wiggled her ass at him. "Get the paddle."
"Paddle?" Hank was confused.
"Over there." Betty motioned to a paddleball paddle, sitting on a shelf behind her desk. "Get it." Hank didn't understand, but he got it and held it out for her. "Whatcha going to do with it?"
"Not me, silly. You. Smack my ass with it. Heat me up." She was breathing hard. Her eyes were beginning to glaze.
This was beyond Hank. He had never hit a woman in his life, let alone pound one on the bare ass with a paddle. "You're kidding?"
"God damn it! Do it! Hurry!" And she closed her eyes and gripped the far end of her desk.
Hank looked at her glowing mounds of lascivious, gluteal fat. Her skin was so tight and straining, so taut and waiting. What the hell. If that's the way she wanted it. He reached back and smacked her hard across her pinkish-white ass-cheeks.
"Whaccckkk!"
Mrs. Bell moaned and shuddered from the blow. Her knuckles whitened from their grip and she ordered through clenched teeth: "Again. Harder. Harder!"
Hank flailed again and again. "Whack! "Whack."
"Whack!" Left cheek, right cheek, left cheek, right cheek. Her lovely pinkish-white skin turned a flaming, puffy red as she moaned and shivered under his blows.
"Oh God, I'm cumming! Oh God. That's it! Oh God! Gaawwddd!" And her whole body trembled and quivered as warm, slippery cum-juice leaked from her pouting, palpitating pussy. "That's enough!" she cried. "Now stick it in me. Let me have it."
Hank was glad it was over. He set.the paddle down and worked between her radiating, silken thighs and stuck his raging cock into her torrid, oozing, super-soft, glimmenng cunt. Oh shit, but it was good! His volatile prick slid into her scorching, slippery cunt-sleeve until the flaming cheeks of her ass rested against his belly. Oh my! Oh my!
Hank withdrew his cock and plunged again and again into the velvet, satin, boiling hot goodness. He could feel his nuts growling and thrashing in luxurious carnal cravings to release and blow salacious exquisite cum into the fiery furnace. Oh shit, it was good. And it was getting better!
Hank reached under Betty and grabbed handfuls of resilient, hot, voluptuous tits and claw-tugged to get her glorious, glutinous cunt further on his ravenous, ripe-to-explode cock.
"Are you going to cum?" Betty moaned.
"Yes!" Hank jerked on her swollen, velutinous boobs and hammered his prick in and out of the submissive, insatiable, erogenous burrow.
"No!" she yelled, "not yet! Not yet!" and Hank tried to shut the boiling splendour off. He gritted his teeth squeezed his ass-cheeks and prostrate sphincter. His nuts continued to thrash and spit luscious delights of heaven, but Hank managed to pinch off the main eruption. He relaxed when he felt his scrotum volcano quiet.
"Did you hold it? Did you cum?"
"Yes and no." Hank again began sliding his rigid prong in and out of the succulent, slippery goodness.
"Good!" Betty said. "Now take it out and put it in my ass-hole."
"Asshole!" Hank had, never heard of such a thing.
"Do it, damn you! Do it!"
Hank grabbed his swollen, cunt-slippery prick and set the purplish, ardent knob on her sepia hole. He grabbed her writhing thigh bones and gently but surely forced his tingling horn into the tight, fervent canal.
Betty felt the sizzling, masculine appendage force its captivating, enchanting way into her year-old virgin ass-hole. Ripples of shimmering lustful harvest sprang and echoed from her ardent, glutinous anal sheath to her quivering belly to her velutinous, straining, wanton breasts. Oh God, but it had been such a long time since she had experienced such tremendous, exquisite eroticism.