Chapter 3
Jean looked at her house guest asleep on the couch. She debated as to whether she should awaken her or let her sleep and then decided that sleep was probably more important. She put a lap robe nearby in case Marvie felt a chill toward morning, turned on a small night light by the door and another one in the bathroom.
"Guess that ought to take care of her now," she thought, and went to her bedroom, thinking how much she'd been like Marvie when she first came to the "big city."
Jean had been popular in school, but only with the boys. It wasn't because she was the prettiest girl in school or because she had the nicest clothes. It was just because she "put out" and the word got around school fast. It got around her small hometown fast, too, and things got so unpleasant that she quit school in her senior year, married a salesman passing through and spent two years of hell nursing an alcoholic before getting a divorce from him.
"I sure thought things were going to be better in the city, that I'd meet Mr. Right," she mused aloud as she brushed her short luxuriant red hair. She told her reflection in the mirror: "But all I met were a bunch of Mr. Wrongs; same as at home."
It wasn't just the nursing of Jerry, watching him constantly, bailing him out of police stations, and having him steal the money she made. The end came when he started bringing guys from off the street for her to service. That was the last and final way he came up with to make drinking money without working. "Work cuts into my drinking time," he frequently told her.
Drinking sure messed up a guy for sex, Jean learned early in their marriage. They fought violently about Jean being too demanding and Jerry being too disinterested. After one such violent scene, Jerry staggered out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Jerry was no piker, though, he only drank the best stuff bottled. Jean went to the kitchen after he'd stormed out and brought forth a bottle she'd hidden from him several days before it. She poured half a glass full, surveyed it for a second, then filled it to the top.
"If you can't lick 'em, join 'em," she muttered, raising the glass and gulping half its contents at one swallow. She choked and gasped as the fiery liquid churned down her throat and to her stomach. It only took a moment for it to settle then she liked the warm glow it cast over her, accenting even more, unfortunately, the heat which had been building up between her legs with Jerry's neglect. She finished the glass and found the bottom half wasn't nearly as strong as the first.
Taking the bottle with her, she wove her way back to their small living room. "The hell with a glass. I'll just sip the rest from here," she decided.
The room began spinning slightly when a key turned in the lock and the door swung open. She squinted in the dim light, trying to focus on Jerry. "So, you decided to come back, huh?" she said. "Well," said a man's voice hesitantly, "I'm not Jerry. I'm a friend of his."
"He's not here. Wander out to the nearest bar and you'll probably find him," Jean said drunkenly.
"Yeah, well, that's where I did find him. I just left him. He gave me his key. Said there was a friendly, sexy girl here and suggested I come over and keep her company."
"I'm not in a very friendly mood tonight and I haven't had enough sex lately to even remember what it was like," muttered Jean, "but come on, siddown and-hie-and I'll let shu schare my bobble-er-I mean boggle. Oh, what the hell, have a drink."
"My name's Mark," he told her, crossing the room to the couch. He took the bottle from her hands, lifted it to his mouth, and took a long hard pull. "Hey, you're too pretty to be sitting all alone like this," he said, moving close to Jean on the couch.
"Oh, get away. I told ya I was in a bad mood."
"Let me help you get over it," Mark said, moving to the radio and tuning in a sensuous Latin rhythm. He pulled Jean to her feet, almost supporting her. "Dance with me," he commanded. She was fluid against his body and not yet so drunk she could not feel the heat rising from his crotch which began to swell against their close bodies. "Hey, you're a great dancer." He dipped his head and ran his tongue along the edge of Jean's ear. The liquor had stimulated her and she pressed even closer.
Mark unzippered the back of her dress and ran a finger under the edge of her bra. He fingered the clasp with one hand, trying unsuccessfully to unfasten it. Putting both arms around her, he began nibbling her throat and ear while his fingers worked at the confining garment.
"Boy, baby, you got tits like a couple of cannon," he mumbled against her throat. The bra opened and he ran his hands across her slender back, pushing the straps over her shoulders until her breasts were completely exposed. He bent his head, still holding Jean close to his loins, and nibbled at her breasts. They reached up their rosebuds for his attention and he ran his tongue on them in circles as his hips ground into hers. They had by now stopped any pretense of dancing and stood on the floor, only their hips undulating to the music. Suddenly Mark raised his head and covered her mouth with his lips. She responded by opening her full eager lips and his tongue shot from his mouth and crashed into her teeth.
Jean, in a fog, thought for a second that she didn't even know this man but the heat from her body raged against her brain and she went limp at his soft persistent touch and tonguing. His tongue probed her mouth deeper and deeper until she could feel it prodding at her throat. She wanted to gag but she fought off the impulse and, instead, opened her throat to give him more access.
Between the heady liquor and the ready sex, Jean lapsed into a euphoric limbo as her inhibitions fell before her growing desire.
Mark raised his head. "God, you're beautiful." His mouth crushed hungrily against hers as he held one bare breast, ran his hand over her stomach, and gently began to massage her cunt. He kissed along her throat and rubbed the inside of her thighs with his searching hands.
"Get out of your damn clothes before I cum in my trousers," he said, pushing her toward the couch. "Ooooh, what if Jerry comes back?" "He won't. I promise you he won't," Mark said. He pushed up her dress and drew down her panties. She watched in a alcoholic fog as he stripped his clothes from his lean upper body and then as he unfastened his pants, ran down the zipper and slid off that garment and his shorts in one swift movement, freeing the biggest cock Jean had ever seen. She gasped as he stood above her with his massive prong jutting straight out from his dark fur brush.
"I don't think I can handle that. You're too damn big for me. I'll split," Jean protested.
"You'd be surprised how much you can handle," Mark said, spreading his legs so his olive-shaped balls were free between his legs, the sac sagging.
He knelt on the couch with his prick bumping against her stomach. His mouth covered hers and his hands rubbed her urgently. She reached for his shaft and gently rubbed its length between her fingers. "My God, I can't even get my fingers around this," she thought, dizzy with the liquor and his skilled tongue and probing fingers. Stroking her breasts, he moved his hips so his king-sized shaft pressed into her mounded cunt, spreading it full length. "Oh, oooh, Jerry-er-Mark-whatever-take me. Fuck me. I don't care if you pull me in half. Just pole me," she moaned, raising her hips to meet his prodding prick.
He shifted down to get his shaft between her legs and when he moved again she felt the warm, pliant head in the vee between her legs, nudging along to her clit and then pressing slowly as he reached the right spot. She spread her legs wide and she felt the shaft slip inside. Locking her legs high around the small of his back, Jean rammed her hips upward against the prong. She felt the walls of her vagina give way to the huge gland and it slip almost to her belly against the juicy wall.
"See, I told you you'd be surprised how much you could handle," he chuckled, driving deep inside her warm tunnel with a single movement. She tightened the vaginal walls tentatively and liked the twitch of his penis as he answered. They began to fuck slowly at first; she adjusting her movements to his, straining against his body, feeling his balls bang against her rump. She'd never felt quite as good with sex as she was at this moment. Maybe the liquor had something to do with it. Now she knew it wasn't Jerry but a beautiful stranger who was screwing her-and she didn't care, she just didn't want to stop-ever.
Oh, the pleasure of it. How he knew how to do it. How long he kept it up, in and out, almost all the way out and then deep again into her belly, his pelvic bone rubbing against her clit, causing an overflow of her body honies which ran down the crack into her anus as he drew his shaft nearly from her body. Her hands were around his neck and then her fingers began to knead into his shoulders and her fingers dig into the flesh as wave after wave of cum swept over her. He was never going to stop, she thought headily. Good. Good! GOOD!
She had positioned her legs so she could pull up to him, drop away and pull up again. She shrieked as she reached the climax that met his. His hot sperm shot high into her belly and mingled with her honey and they ground their bodies together in a long frenzy. Their sweat soaked bodies collapsed on the couch and lingered there for a few minutes until their breath stopped coming in ragged bursts and their hearts stopped pounding.
He pulled away from her, his still hard penis slipping from her body with a wet slurping sound. He dipped his head to her cunt, ran his nose in the cum wet hair and then stood up, dressing silently.
"You got a beautiful piece of machinery there. You could get more than ten dollars for it any place," he said, buttoning his shirt and tucking it in his trousers.
It didn't make sense to Jean but she was too relaxed to even care or try to make sense of it. "Let yourself out," she said airily. "I'm too pooped to move."
"Right. See ya around," said the man named Mark. "Wish we'd had more time. Perhaps later."
He left and Jean lounged luxuriously on the couch, napping briefly before coming wide awake with a start. Jerry was standing over her, drunk and grinning obscenely. She tried to cover her body with her scattered garments and made a dash for the bathroom. As she splashed cold water on her face, she wondered what he must have thought. What she could tell him. What had happened must have been obvious, even as drunk as Jerry was.
Dressed, she returned to the living room, anticipating a scene. Jerry was sprawled on his back, bottle in hand.
"Was it a good lay?" he asked drunkenly.
"Wa-what do you mean, Jerry," Jean stammered.
"Did my friend do the job?" he asked.
"Do you mean you sent him here?" Jean shrieked unbelievingly. Then she remembered that the man had entered the apartment with a key, and that he had entered purposefully.
"Jerry! You didn't, you didn't SEND him here? Did you? WELL, DID YOU?" She screamed, shaking her husband by the shirt front.
"Yeah, yeah, I sent him here. You're always bitchin' about not gettin' any and I ran into this horny guy in the bar-"
"What do you mean, you ran into him? Don't you know him? My God, Jerry, what have you done? What have I done?" And Jean burst into tears, remembering how easy it had been for the total stranger to get in her pants.
"Look, Jean, you got a hot pussy and I'm just damn not interested in it. We might just as well get what we both want. You get screwed and I get enough money to drink in class." Jerry belched and rubbed his nose. Jean stood over him, staring in disbelief. "You mean you not only sent him up here, but you, damn you, you CHARGED him to-to fuck me?"
"Yeah; yeah, yeah. Why not? I tole you we can both get what we want this way. Hell, you haven't got the whole football field to screw the way you did before I married you. What the hell do you think I married you for, anyhow? I didn't want some old frump to peddle. You got a lotta good years left in that ass of yours. I know someone was gonna take advantage of it eventually and I just happened to come along at the right time."
Jean slammed the door to the bedroom and threw herself across the pink spread. She was furious at first but then the delightful session she'd had with Mark-yes, that was his name- came to mind and she thought perhaps Jerry was right, after all. She had the protection of a home and husband-a husband who was nice enough to even pick out her lovers. Might not be so bad after all.
She took to drinking a little each night-and dressing with more care, not knowing at what time the door would open. Mark came back only once after that. They did not bother with the formality of dancing. Instead she simply opened her robe and he knelt to do her homage. He said as he walked to the door that he was being transferred out of the city and probably wouldn't be seeing her again. They parted on a friendly, very satisfied basis.
The other men, and there were quite a few in the next months, were businessmen like Mark, quiet and eager and satisfactory but not totally satisfying as he'd been. She wondered if she'd ever be in Chicago so she could look him up, as he'd suggested. Probably not. Jerry was drinking more all the time and in no condition to go anywhere. She'd even had to get a full-time day job to pay the rent and utilities and occasionally give him extra money for his bonded liquors when his nightly ten dollars didn't go far enough. "Stay drunk," she'd tell him sometimes. "You're not much good to me anyhow except you DO have good taste in lovers."
The door opened one Thursday evening and all Jean could see at first glance in the dim light was that the man was short and stocky.
As he approached, she gasped. He was dressed in dirty, wrinkled clothes. He had two teeth missing in the front, she noticed as he grinned at her, and his hair was graying, dirty and stringy. She leaped to her feet. "Get out of here," she demanded.
"Not yet, sister, I paid my good ten bucks and I'm gonna get my money's worth!" Jerry had done this to her? Sent this foul creature to her for ten dollars? No, absolutely not. She drew herself up haughtily and demanded the man leave.
"Lissen, sister, I been sittin' in that bar for months, listening to your husband set you up for some guy. He got ten bucks from them and tonight I give him ten bucks. My money is as good as anybody's and your ass ain't gold-plated." He reached out and pinched one nipple until she shrilled with pain. "Hell," he said. "You ain't no different than any other whore I been with. Just a little more younger and about five dollars more expensive. Let's see if you can perform as well as them."
His fingers tore at her cunt and his mouth, foul-smelling and greasy, covered her lips before she could let out the scream swelling in her throat. She struggled against his jabbing fingers, against the one that covered her cunt and rammed at the tight muscle of her still virginal ass. "Tight, yeah, real tight," he muttered against her lips. "I like a tight ass."
"No, no, please. Don't, stop! You don't understand. It's not like you think," Jean protested, unable to draw away from his mouth and his finger which was scraping at her tender ass muscles.
"It's you who don't understand, whore. You gonna get the message that I'm gonna fuck you or do I gotta knock you against the wall first?" the man snarled, biting her lip viciously and pinching her tender ass till tears came in her eyes. "Ya unerstan?" he demanded. Jean could only nod her head.
"Okay then. You keep your mouth shut and we'll git along fine. Now suck my cock and do a ten-dollar job or you'll wish you had." He unzipped his pants and stepped out of them. Jean almost gagged at the sight of his filthy under-shorts and the body odor that assailed her nostrils. He pushed her to her knees, his limp prick bobbing in her face. "Open your mouth," he said, pulling at her hair and pinching cruelly one bobbing tit.
She opened her mouth and nearly fainted as he crammed the foul object inside. She gagged and gasped as he mouth fucked her and the shaft got hard. It wasn't a big prick, really quite small and inoffensive compared to Mark's and she thought she would be able to survive this one indignity. She'd see Jerry never had a chance to do anything like this to her again, she vowed. She tongued the shaft and the head, bringing it to a full hard.
He pulled her to her feet and shoved her in the direction of the couch. She lay down and opened her legs. He laughed obscenely. "No, flip over. I want your ass," he demanded.
"Oh, no," Jean said. "You can't. No one has ever done that. Pleas-" her word was cut off as his hand lashed across her mouth.
"I tole ya to shut up and give out and we'll get along fine. Now flip your ass up here where I can see it." Trembling, Jean obeyed, She turned on her stomach and elevated her buttocks, tense with fear as she felt the man approaching.
He pried apart her buttocks with strong stubby fingers and ducked his head so his slavering tongue could flicker against the brown pucker hole of her ass.
"Ooooooohhhhh, geezuz. Ohhhhhhh, geee-EEEEzzzussss!" Jean shrieked and hissed. She tried to force shut the fleshy mounds, to stop the feathery tickling that was driving her to the brink of madness but he would not let her go. He buried his face between the white mounds and rammed at the opening with his strong tongue. "Stop that ... stop ... stop. Oooooh, please. Stop it! You're going to drive me mad- ooOHHH, stop."
- The man blew a hot pointed stream into her asshole, trying to fan the flame he was lighting in that sensitive area.
He worked the rubbery muscles of the hole until his tongue broke through the tight rubbery ring and slipped inside the virgin rim.
Jean gasped, flailing her head, rocking her white mounded cheeks, and stretching her fingers into the fabric of the couch.
"Aaaagggg," she gagged, her face grinding into the seat of the couch and her back arching against his onslaught. This was the most exciting sex act she'd ever imagined. It made even Mark's big horsecock seem unimportant as the experienced tongue slipped deeper into her hot cavern. He raised his head and reached for his cock. Jean's ass reached out to him in an unexperienced desire. He pushed the head against the opening and she drew back in fear. This was going to hurt.
"Aaaiiiiii ... don't stop... noooo, aahhhh, don't stop!" she slobbered as he teased her asshole with the head of his cock, ringing it with the fluid seeping from its head.
He lined his prong up with her ass, pushing her so she was wedged against the couch and his erect organ. It was a slow, steady pressure that ended with exquisite pain as the prong beat past the tight muscles and rammed into the hot depths of her ass. His stimulated balls demanded that he fuck her deep and hard and he rammed forth with a vengeance.
"Aaaaaaaaaaggggggghhhh," Jean screamed. "It's good. I like it, I like it. Oh, fuck me, fuck me," she pleaded, writhing her ass, pushing toward him. The white hot shaft plunged endlessly and without ceasing, and he slapped a tempo against her cheeks as he drove in, eased out, jammed deep, eased out and rammed the full five inches into her bowels his balls slapping hard against her upturned cunt. She felt a sharp hot throb as he flexed his buried cock.
"Good, ain't it, whore?" he demanded, slapping even harder at the white cheeks which now were laced with strips of red where his fingers had landed.
"Yes, oooo, yes, yes," she cried. He rammed with mounting abandon into the dark depths of the unresisting flesh. His heated cock increased in size and pressured out the walls of her anus to their strained limits as he savagely ground into her and she rammed into him for more. The narrow passage widened with each stroke and she could feel the muscles tighten involuntarily with each drive. He ground his fingernails into her fleshy hips as he blew his hot streaming sperm into her body depths. His prick came from her abused behind with a loud popping sound and Jean collapsed on the couch, face down, her legs falling on the floor, his cum running down her legs. Jean didn't even bother to raise her head as he dressed and started toward the door.
He paused for a minute. "Hell, you ain't so much. Your virgin ass was all you had for me and now that it's been reamed you ain't got nuthin' that's worth ten bucks." He slammed the door as he left and Jean lay on the couch, a rage growing within her at Jerry having sold her to such a beast.
She got up, bathed carefully, and laid out her one good suit. She got the luggage down from the top shelf in the hall closet and started filling each suitcase, taking no care whatsoever in packing carefully. She took Jerry's jewelry, something he never wore anymore anyhow, the clock radio, a couple of books he used to value highly and, from a hiding place under the dresser scarf, the flat pile of bills she managed to accumulate by taking his remaining money each night when he fell into his final drunken stupor. She counted the money. Yes, there was enough to get her not only into the city but to a store with decent clothes, perhaps a new hairdo and a hotel room until she found a job.
She put the suitcases by the door and called a cab. While waiting, she went through all the cupboards in the kitchen and hall, finding a few bottles Jerry had hidden. With great delight, she emptied the contents of each down the sink and left the bottles upside down so there would not be a drop to drink when Jerry awakened the next day with the shakes. With no booze and no money, Jerry would have a pretty rough time for a few days, she thought with satisfaction as she walked out to the waiting taxi.
It wasn't at all difficult to locate Mark-and he sounded glad-and interested to hear from her. They became close friends over the years. He'd helped her get settled in the lovely apartment she now occupied, introduced her to a group of very generous, very sexy men and showed her where to buy clothes, how to wear them, and even suggested the right hairdresser.
It was Mark who had helped Marvie get moved and it would be he who would help launch Marvie on a new social scene.
Jean finished brushing her hair and crawled into bed, making a few mental plans for tomorrow. For one thing, she'd have to call the office and tell them Marvie was ill-flu probably, there was a lot of that going around-and she would be a little late in getting in because she would step by to see if she could make her more comfortable or get her some medication.
What Marvie needed first, she thought, was some rest and then a build up of her confidence. With little effort, she could be turned into a lovely butterfly. A much in demand little butterfly, Jean thought as she dropped off to sleep.