"I'll call you next time I'm in town," Mr. Ford told her. "I'll bring same more movies, too. Maybe I'll bring a lot of movies, and hire you for a whole afternoon. Would you like that?"
"Mmmmm, yes," she nodded. "I'd like anything that turned you on, baby."
"Oh, yeah," he said, lying back on the bed. The projector was rewinding now. "This was perfect, Patti, really perfect. You did me just the way I wanted. I just wish I came through here more often."
"Well, don't forget to call me," she said, "any time you're in town. Maybe we'll spend an afternoon – a whole afternoon – together sometime soon. That could be a lot of fun. For both of us, mmmm?" She blew him a kiss from the doorway and started out. She'd have to bribe the desk clerk downstairs to give her the loan of a room where she could shower and change clothes. The only thing she hated was wiping the cum off her face. It felt so sweet and sticky drying on her skin, and the taste of it was still strong in her mouth. Damn, she thought, when Kerry gets home from work, I think I'll rape him.
CHAPTER FIVE
And of course she'd done just that. If you could call it rape. Kerry knew how to hold his own, as far as raping and being raped went, and her cunt still ached from the frenzy of fucks he'd thrown into her. How would he feel if he knew that three other men had used his wife's body that same day? One had contented himself with eating her pussy, another with squirting cum onto her face while they watched dirty movies, and the third had engaged her for an hour of fairly normal sex, seasoned by a little fantasy and wish-fulfillment. Mr. Webber and his Wonder Woman yearnings. He'd been a little rough today. His fingers had left the bruise Kerry had noticed on Pam's tit. Next time she'd warn him about marking the merchandise. But, oh, God, he'd torn off her clothes, and thrown her on the bed, and then rammed his cock up her, and if he was getting off by pretending to screw Wonder Woman, well, she could dig it too, and as his tight, grasping fist closed over her breast, she found herself lunging up, meeting his eager thrusts, her cunt melting around his hard, energetic cock. She'd scarcely noticed the pressure on her tit. Afterwards he'd even given her a bonus for the halter top and hot pants he'd torn apart undressing her.
Pam wanted to think that the knowledge wouldn't offend or sicken her husband – that, on the contrary, it would make him stare at her with a newfound lustful appreciation. That he'd realize the basics of the situation, too. Other men craved her, were willing to pay for the use of her body, were glad to come back again and again, at a hundred dollars a crack. It was exciting to make secret appointments with those other men, even more exciting to meet them afternoons at various hotel rooms and ball their brains out. The money was great, too, and someday it would come in handy, she was positive. But it didn't mean anything. It was just something she did for kicks and amusement and – well, for adventure, too. God, a housewife didn't have that many chances to meet adventure face to face and come out the winner.
Would Kerry understand that? She didn't know, and Pam decided that it would be far better he never found out. Anyway, it couldn't last much longer. Just today she'd found herself a little blase about meeting three repeat customers, knowing what they wanted, how to give it to them. Was afternoon whoring about to lame its excitement for her?
Well, she thought philosophically, if it does, it does. I'll find something else to do. Maybe I'll go back to masturbation. God, how long had it been since she'd needed to frig herself on angular basis? Since high school, at least! Maybe she'd buy one of those cock-shaped vibrators and a lot of batteries and spend afternoons trying to short-circuit the machine in her dripping snatch. Or maybe she'd find some other local housewife with nothing to do in the afternoon and see if the lucky lady would care to try out a girl-girl scene.
"What did I just say?" Pam murmured, turning over in bed. "What?" She blinked couple of times. It had been a long day, and that movie had been so lovely to look at. This time of night she was usually rather groggy, and more so tonight than normally. Her hand moved under the blanket, giving Kerry's sleeping cock a final squeeze of love.
"Night, babe," she whispered. "You'll probably be up first thing in the morning, if I know you, and I'd better get a little rest, too."
She snuggled closer, felt his warmth against her body, and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to descend. The last thing she thought of before dropping off was how delectable the blonde girl's pussy had looked in the close-up scenes of that movie today. A pink gash, vivid and visible among the dark-golden hairs, and inside it was a slippery-smooth expanse of folds and crevices, with one small, exquisitely tight opening and a reddish clitoral bud sticking up like a tiny stiff nipple aching to be sucked.
She awoke Thursday morning to find her husband in the act of sliding his hard cock up her pussy. "Hey, what gives?" Pam grinned up at him, spreading her legs just a trifle so he could wedge more easily the tip of his large tool.
"I don't know," he said solemnly. "I dreamed about you all night, and when I woke up I had this enormous hard-on. Well, I can't even piss till I get rid of the thing, so I just thought I'd…"
"Don't think – do!" Pam smirked, reaching down to touch the shaft of his cock. Mmmm, warm and stiff, and glowing with lust. Just the way she liked to see her man. Or men. "What are you waiting for?" she asked. "An engraved invitation? Show me how cunty your dreams were. Show me."
And so he showed her, burying his eight inches of hard gristle in her welcoming pussy, grinding at her till the hairs of their crotches were tied in a true lover's knot. She worked herself on him, milking his cock with knowing twitches of her snatch, and they rocked it back and forth, fucking, being fucked, until he squirted a thick morning load of cream into her invigorating depths and, alas, it was time for Kerry to get ready to go to work. Pam lay sighing on the bed after he'd gone to the bathroom, and she toyed with her sticky, cummy cunt. Mmmm, she thought, tasting the juices that flowed from her cunt, I wonder if there have been any calls for Patricia Wright? Well, she'd know, as soon as Kerry left for work.
Oh, damn it, she added mentally, I didn't say I was going to give it up now. I'll think about it later. Later.
She took a little nap after Kerry left, and consequently didn't get around to checking with her service till eleven o'clock. This was her last working day of the week – she only sought adventure on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday and she called quite later than usual.
"Damn it," Pam said, biting her lip. The nap had cost her a hundred dollars. A repeat customer from Detroit wanted to see her at noon and she didn't have time to get to him now. But she knew where to reach him, and she'd leave a message. Maybe next time he was in town… "Any other calls?"
"Just one," the operator said. Only two bookings for today? Better than one, not as good as the four she'd handled one memorable afternoon. "It's from – I think – I didn't take this message, Ms. Wright, and I have the most awful time with Charlotte's handwriting. As nearly as I can tell, it's a Mr. Hagen. Yes. H-A-G-E-N. It could be McHagen, too, I suppose, because Charlotte just scribbles. There's an M and a squiggle and – reference? Oh, yes. He mentioned a Mr. Pendexter – does that sound familiar to you? I think that's what she wrote – from New York City."
Pam nodded. Hagen or McHagen, he was a new customer and she didn't take new customers without a reference. Pendexter, though, was all right. He was a pussycat. Generous, and handsome enough to make the generosity seem a real treat. Half her clients were that sort of man – good-looking, well-heeled, the kind of man a girl wouldn't mind being seen with in public. High rates kept out the trash trade, and references made sure she'd continue to deal only with the right kind of men. Well, if Pendexter had sent him, then she was willing, to give Hagen (or McHagen) a chance. He was at the Hartford House, room 1457, and he wanted to see her at two sharp if that was agreeable. Pam mused a moment, then decided that it was more than agreeable. First she dialed the Hartford House and asked for room 1457. It was always a good idea to talk to a new client before meeting him. That way she could get some idea of what he wanted. Bathroom sports, for example, were a no-no. Except for screwing in a tub. That could be fun, two bodies colliding all wet and soapy, a suds-covered cock slicking into a wet, foamy twat. But no pissing and shitting on one another. Or he might expect to screw her in the asshole, and that was also on the no-no list. Unless the man was very small-cocked. She'd take Kerry in her brown hole occasionally (though, thank God, he didn't try it very often, and only when she was really souped up) for love, but she wouldn't give it to another man of his size even for money. He might prefer some special costume or something. Once she'd balled a guy who got off on pigtails and knee socks. She felt silly dressing like a little girl, especially with her lush tits and ripe ass, but the customer hadn't complained.