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.

Mr. Bell had taught her the joys of ass-hole fucking when mixed with the acid sweetness of pain. Of course it had taken a while to appreciate the bittersweet mixture, but once she had been flung to the heavenly doors of salacious joy, nothing had ever been able to take its place.

She lay on the hard table and felt this young boy's rigid prong sawing in and out of her moist, hot ass-cave. She felt the rubbing, burning hurt be gin to fire up her anal throat. She felt his impatient clawing hard hands dig and claw at her swollen, aroused breasts and could feel the mind-blowing pain-joy building to excruciating climax. "Oh harder!" She gripped the table and writhed her ravenous ass for more. "Harder! Harder! Damn you. Fuck it in me! HARDDDEERRRR!"

Hank was enjoying himself more than he had ever thought possible. Mrs. Bell's tiny ass-hole was a tight sphincter of craving comfort. Each time he bottomed out in her searing, moist, super-soft hole, her flaming, quivering, ass mounds would press into his, groin and belly like giant globes of radiating lasciviousness. It was good. Oh, so damn good!

He lay across her shimmering, satin back and worked his fingers into and around her resilient, warm, tit-mounds of ardent passion. He was doing her good, he could tell by her moans and the rapidity of her breathing. He could tell by the hidden, agitated glutinous, erogenous plethora that shimmered and glistened within her volatile body. He could tell by the violent, craving ass thrusts as he plunged his prick to the glowing depths and gnawed and kissed her squirming, perspiring back as he withdrew his pleasure-giving prick. Oh he was doing her good. And, Lordie, Lordie, the splendid, orgasm harvest was again building and swelling in his own nuts. Oh shit! She pumped and drove frantically for the rapturous explosion.

Mrs. Bell sensed Hank was cumming. "The paddle," she called. "Hit me with the fucking paddle."

Hank was two or three long, hard strokes away from a cumming frenzy. He heard Betty begging for the board. He snatched it up and, with the same motion, slammed it across her ass-cheek.

"Whack!" The sudden, awful, burning, erotic pain-splendour ricocheted throughout her body and engulfed her as if she were caught in a paralysing, electric lustful current. She opened her mouth to free the terrible ecstasy-hurt as the paddle branded her other ass mound. "Whack!" Oh heavens of God! She could feel her body, her soul, her brain turning to surrendering exquisite mush as his hard, raging cock sawed in and out of her captivating, craving, burning ass-hole and the monstrous wooden board roared excruciatingly salacious, luxurious, terrible blows on her inflamed gluteal fat. "Harder!" her voice tore out of her, "faster! OH GOD, I'M CUMMING!"

So was Hank. He flailed with the paddle and drove his thunderous, volatile, swelling prick in and out of her twitching, jerking, beet-red blistered ass. Her ass-hole didn't have the deep inner grabbing, milking, squeezing muscles that lay in a woman's cunt, so his orgasm was maddeningly slow in erupting. Still, although slow, it was a delayed, glistening, glorious, insane hesitation that was driving him out of his carnal, craving, impatient mind.

Hank wanted to cum. He wanted to feel the mind-blowing ecstasy of jerking release. He wanted to feel his spirit soar and disappear in the clouds of ecstatic fuck-plethora. He wanted to be tossed and jarred, shaken and battered in the eye of a cum-rapture maelstrom. And he was so close. So ungodly, maddeningly, frantically close. He roared and pumped his fervent horn in and out of her ass furnace while flailing with the God damn paddle.

Mrs. Bell was in agony. Her year-long wait for sexual satisfaction lay just beyond his burning, flailing ass conflagration. He was hitting her ass too hard. He wasn't hitting her hard enough. His cock wasn't deep enough. His cock was too deep. He was fucking too slow. He was fucking too fast. He was... was..."OH GAWDD!" She could feel his wonderful raging hammer swell and throb with the pre-cum effort. Just the realization that he was going to bathe her starving anal cavern with glorious jism blew her to the peak of exquisite ecstasy. "Cum!" she begged. "Cum, damn you! Cuuummmm!" Then the boiling, jerking, molten jism spurted and splashed deep in her ass with insane rapturous intensity. "AAHHHHIIIIEEEEE!" She screamed and bucked backward to drink his dong dry.

Hank was in a ravenous, frenzied, fuck conflagration of cuming bliss. His cock was belching out great torrents of jism splendour but he couldn't stop his pelvis from pumping and grinding in her yielding, lustrous hole. Each bolt of cum ecstasy jumbled his mind and swirled his brain. It felt so God awful good he wished his whole body would dissolve and pour out the head of his prick. He had stopped beating her ass. He had stopped everything in his tumultuous, unparalleled, rapturous orgasm. When his volcanic balls finally emptied he fell across her back and panted for sanity and life.

Betty allowed him to lie on her until his breath became normal and his thunderous piston of a moment ago began to soften. Then she turned her head and smiled at him. "okay, tiger, take it out. You got a twenty a week raise, but if you want to try for thirty a week, go wash up, and I'll blow you."

Hank grinned. "Where's the washbasin?"