Now it wasn't drool that leaked around the edges of her cock-filled mouth. It was cum, sweet and sour, frothy as Barbasol, spewing out of a prick that felt more like a fucking firehouse in her mouth.
The best mouth in town soon became the best gulping mouth in town as Tina tried her best to keep up with the shots of jizz that poured into her throat.
"Aaaaiiieeee – here's another – aaaaiiiieeee!"
Tina took that shot right on the tonsils, didn't even have to swallow because the blast of cum was already on its way to her belly.
"Suck this one – aaaaiieeeeee."
Another blast, not as powerful a the fist shot of jizz. And Tina had to work her throat to get it past her tonsils.
Gulp.
"Take this one – aaaiiieee!"
Gulp.
Every blast became weaker now, and Tina had to swallow hard to get that sweet and sour juice down into her throat. But it was a hard task because so much of his cum had made a cobwebbed mess out of her gums and tongue that it felt like she was eating greasy, snot and sour peanut butter.
"Oooooh, I ain't got no more juice left, babe! You got it all."
Tina smiled – well, what she really did was: she took her lips off that cock, licked off the cummy snowcap that adorned the shrively cockhead, then she smiled.
Then were still two minutes left.
Not bad for the fastest mouth in town.
Tina felt relieved. Shit, it was hard work sucking the last cock of the day. Christ, how many in America could have used their gums for gumming on cocks for seven pricks a night, seven nights a week?
Not too many.
Oh, most American girls could probably cock suck three or four a night, but Tina knew they probably couldn't do it seven nights a week.
Tina sat up, watched the man with the hairy, ass and hairy back get into his boxer shorts, then hide his hairy legs in a pair of Haggar slacks.
"Shit, Tina, you got the best mouth in town."
"Yeah, thanks."
"Well, see ya."
"Hey… hey! Wait a minute! We gotta fuck yet. I'm supposed to get fifty bucks for fucking you."
"Jesus! What are you, Tina, some kind of cock-hungry whore? Shit, you know I can't get it up again – not after a suck job like that! Christ, whatta greedy whore!"
"You bastard! You tricked me. I sucked your cock for five bucks and then I was supposed to fuck you for fifty. So get over here and let me fuck you."
A dollar-bill floated to the bed. "Here, that's your tip for a suck job that was so good that I can't get it up any more. And, if I can't get it up, how the fuck am I supposed to fuck you?"
Tina wanted to bawl, wanted to scream. She was thinking angry thoughts, trying to use her brains for all the trouble her pussy had caused.
But what could she do?
Go to the better business bureau?
Was the customer always right?
The motel door closed quietly. Tina screamed out: "Fuck you, too!"
The motel door opened very quickly. "I wish. Ha, ha, ha!"
Then the motel door closed very quietly and very quickly, and Tina sat on the business end of her body beginning to boo-hoo for being tricked by a trick.
CHAPTER TWO
Suzy Cocteau had an IQ of 156, a body of 38-22-36, all at the age of twenty-eight.
She was good in math. Shit, when she had graduated from Tweedy High School she was voted most likely to succeed in the field of accounting.
But her favorite subjects were history and English and social studies and French and, home economics. Shit, Suzy Cocteau was a near genius.
She was what every man wishes his daughter to be: smart about dumb-ass things like school, and dumb about smart-ass things like life.
Suzy couldn't help being smart in a dumb-ass way, just like she couldn't help being dumb in a smart-ass way.
Textbooks were where she had learned about life, so that made her real smart when it came to knowing who the eighteenth presidonte of Argentina was, and what was the name of Geronimo's favorite home, and how to tell time at the South Pole when the sun was down and she couldn't see her watch.
People used to say that Suzy knew little about life because her parents were very overprotective of darling little Suzy.
"Nonsense," her father Pierre Cocteau would say. "Suzy only wears two bras because when she was a baby she'd always get chest colds."
"Pooh-pooh," her mother Joan Cocteau would say. "Suzy always takes three hankies to school in case someone cuts their arm and needs a tourniquet."
"Bullshit," her brother Jacques Cocteau would say. "Suzy, always sucks her thumb because the orthodontist told her it would help to straighten out her buck teeth."
So, when Suzy was a senior in high school, ready to leave the hallowed halls of Tweedy High School, she was ready to tackle life head-on – with her reports cards in one hand, her health-history file in the other, her lucky charms on one bracelet, her purse hanging from the other wrist, and a $5.95 rosary bouncing against the two bras she wore.
Yep, Suzy Cocteau was ready for college, but was college ready for her?
The first semester proved to be pure hell for Suzy.
Dorm life was pure torture. Why, girls actually ran naked down the halls to take their showers!
And dorm girls always talked about men's things, those abominable things that men… had… you know… down there… just below their bellies and… just above their thighs.
One girl, Holly Hoover, was a real shocker. Why, she would actually stick her ass – her big, bare ass – out the dorm window and tell dumb freshman guys to eat her pussy.
Suzy thought that was horrible, she just couldn't imagine anybody eating dessert that late at night.
Suzy's mother had told her often enough that eating late at night kept her from having a good night's rest.
The only comfort Suzy had while living in Dame Folker Hall was her roommate – a tiny thing straight out of Mater Nostrum High School with a scholastic record that sparkled with the first letter of the alphabet.
The tiny thing's name was Alice Handler and she was cute in a doll-like way.
Alice had a pert nose, two dimples that had just as much depth when she smiled as when she cried. Button eyes, nice clean wholesome hair that always looked washed and shiny, gleamy teeth. Alice, facially, was very cute.
Below the neckline Alice Handler was not cute – she was fucking ravishing!
Nobody, absolutely nobody, in Dame Folker Hall had a set of tits like Alice Handler, or a better set of swively hips, or a better set of huggable asscheeks.
Jesus, Alice Handler was just dynamite – an explosive five-foot-two, eyes-of-blue piece of cunt with a cute face.
And, of course, everybody liked Alice Handler – especially the guys.
But Suzy also liked Alice Handler.
Why, Alice would let Suzy borrow her shoes, her makeup, anything and everything… well, everything except those huge, mammoth-cupped Maidenform bras that Alice had to order custom-made. And, besides, it would have looked ridiculous for Suzy to wear two of Alice's bras on cold winter days.
Suzy and Alice got along very well for the first month of school.
Then something happened that ended their fine relationship.
It was all very weird to Suzy, but it was easy to suspect something was wrong, or that something funny was going an late at night when she would feel the coven being taken off her sleepy body and she could feel a pair of button eyes just staring at her.
At first, Suzy thought she was dreaming – thought she was just imagining that somebody was looking at her as she half dozed in her Mickey Mouse pajamas.
But then she found out that someone was there, that there was someone looking at her as she slept.
Suzy found out on a Tuesday night, a hot Tuesday night that had forced her to sleep minus her Mickey Mouse pajamas.
And what woke her up was a clicking sound.