Chapter 4
As Madge Blake climbed out of her car, a bit of metal on the door tore her panty hose.
"Shit!" she cried. Any imperfection in her appearance infuriated her. The tear was an inch long, on her shin. As she went to the motel unit, she thought, Wilson will pay for it! It's his fault, begging me to come here to fuck.
Oh, she had teased him into it, but she would blame him anyway, for being a horny male who only wanted to stick his prong into a soft, hurt-able split. She liked her husband better, but she couldn't endure his working for peanuts at City General. Harry Wilson at least had the sense to take advantage of the big money to be made in medicine. And if Jonas didn't see the light, she would divorce him and marry Wilson.
Until the moment of decision, she had to keep them both panting after her.
The torn panty hose made her decide to treat Wilson more harshly than usual. Make the bastard crawl to her, begging for it!
She pushed open the door of the motel unit and slipped inside and saw Wilson grinning at her, a drink in hand. He boozed too much, among other things she disliked about him.
"You look beautiful!" he said.
"I tore my panty hose getting out of the car, darn it."
"I'll buy you a dozen pairs, Madge."
"Today it's one thing after another. I phoned Jonas to make sure he was at the hospital, so there was no chance of him seeing me come here. He told me to meet him at the Steak Club for lunch, and hung up!"
"When?"
"Right now. I can't stay." She tried to look disappointed, while eyeing Wilson. He believed the lie. He was crestfallen.
"Hell," he said. "I had to shift all my appointments to get here. This is pretty lousy, Madge, this catch-as-catch-can lovemaking."
"It's dreadful." She let him take her in his arms. She thought that he might suggest the obvious solution, marriage, but he just held her, his hands kneading her buttocks, which she hated. She said, "Let me take off these panty hose. I can't endure anything torn."
"Honey, I'll do it for you." He lifted her skirt and peeled them down. She eyed herself in the dresser mirror. She still wore her fox-furred coat and matching Russian hat. Fluffy fur did things for her face, emphasizing the pale delicacy of her skin and the smallness of her bones. She struck a pose, glancing sidewise to appreciate her fine profile. Her hair could be shortened, she thought, to make it curl softly against her velvety cheeks. She had used a bit of green eye shadow today. It looked very well but the lipstick was too dark. Not that Harry Wilson would notice. She put on makeup for more perceptive people.
He said, "Honey, lift your foot."
She did and he slipped off panty hose and shoe. She raised the other. He was on his knees. She had an urge to step on one of his hands. Sometimes she just despised him!
Then he opened her coat and stuck his head up under her skirt. She felt his hot breath fanning her crotch, and realized that he had taken off her panties along with the hose. He was nuzzling her bush now.
She protested, saying, "Harry, I must go. Jonas will have all sorts of questions if I'm late."
"Honey, spread your legs and let me give you a kiss where it does the most good."
She smiled. This was the one thing that she liked from him. She raised her skirt and saw his blonde head down there between her legs, his nose buried in her wheat-colored pubic bush, a silky tuft. Her lip hair was thin, like a haze curling about her rather prominent labia. For a woman as slim as she, her prominent mound and quite large and plump vulva were surprising, as was the capacity of her vagina. She could take the biggest cock with ease but without much pleasure. She thought pricks were the ugliest things on earth.
But she liked this, seeing Harry's broad red tongue washing up and down her split. And the feel of it, that slippery, boneless swabbing of her burgeoning clit and her long gash; oh, it was good, making steamy bubbles grow in her belly and expand hotly until they burst with dainty little pops.
She gazed at herself in the mirror, the lovely Madge still hatted and fur-collared, holding up her skirt to let this man kneel between her legs and eat her sweet little pussy. She smiled at herself, and winked. You're doing great, honey! Now if he can be made to lap cunt until you cum-don't let him stick that horrid prick up you and then try to kiss your mouth with his fat lips and strangling tongue-but after preliminary pussy licking he always wanted to mount her. No! Harry, I'll marry your money and let you suck my vagina all you want, but there I'll draw the line!
He was panting. This excited him. Surprisingly, he hadn't made a move to throw her down on the bed. He usually had by now.
She dropped a hand from her skirt and fingered into his hair, drawing him in closer to her drooling cunt.
She whispered, "Harry, that's terrific, don't stop, please. I love it!" And she gazed at herself in the mirror, her pale gold face washed with rose now as her body heated. I look beautiful being lapped, she thought. Again she postured, turning her head this way and that, occasionally glancing at the reflection of the head down between her satiny thighs, below the pearly flatness of her belly, his nose still in her mound tuft.
He blew up her hole, sucked the juice, twirled his tongue about. Madge's legs were starting to bow. She wanted to be on her back now, her legs hung over his shoulders. But if she dropped to the bed he might climb on her and spike his thing up her split.
Her hips were surging. She let her legs bow outward and slowly hipped in, rhythmically fucking his face. Her clit had been licked and sucked to full protrusion, and it was just bursting with heat, firing steamy waves up into her belly. Oh, good. Eat me, Harry. Eat me!
In the mirror her face was darker red. Yes, she was starting to cum. She raised a hand to her breasts and roughed it over the sharp nipples, which showed right through bra and dress. And still Harry didn't suggest that they climb on the bed and fuck! Why not?
She thought of Karen Moore, his head nurse, that brunette bitch with her bangs. Of course! She had long known that he screwed Karen, had known by observing the two of them together even before he had admitted it. So Karen had been at him within the last couple of hours. And now he stalled because his cock was soft.
Madge was grateful for the favor, though for sure Karen had meant it differently. Keep an eye on that fool cunt. She would do anything to marry his bankroll.
She was cumming now, grinding her sloshy cunt at his face her hips jerking almost out of control, juice spilling out and running down her thighs. She pawed roughly at her tits and in the mirror saw her face turn livid and sweat break out on her upper hip as she burst into orgasm.
She groaned wrenchingly, "Harry, suck harder, harder! I have to go. Jonas is waiting for me. Hurry, oh, please, hurry and, yes, stick your tongue right up my hole, I'll cum on it. I'm cumming, cumming, cumming.. HARRY I'M CUM-MING!"
She had crouched down low, banging her yawning vulva at his face and the tongue wagging and flailing about inside it. Her feet were far apart as she hipped in, rotated her ass, squashed her swampy gash on his nose, his chin, feeling his mouth open and enclose the whole hairy crotch and suck, suck, suck!
Her hole belched air and juice as the explosion shook her from toes to furred scalp. She was drowning him in her flow, and, as he gagged, she wished that she had enough control of her bladder to piss in his face at the same time.
At last she was spent, panting but soft all over from the orgiastic release. She sagged against the dresser.
She choked, "Give me my panties."
Still kneeling at her feet he handed them to her. She raised her skirt and rubbed her crotch, wiping away the cunt juice and his saliva. When it was clean she did him one favor, wiped the cuntal juice off his face before throwing the panties toward the waste basket.
In five minutes she was out of the place and driving off in her car, feeling a great deal better for having cum in a way she liked, and thanking Karen Moore for having made it possible.
Jane saw Liz after lunch that day. The girl was radiant. Her skin had the delicacy of flower petals enlivened by a tint of perhaps a peach color. Her smile was slow, sensual, and her walk a hip-rolling saunter.
Jane said, "You look like the cat that ate the canary. What happened, a pay raise?"
Liz was slow to react. "Me? Oh, no, I just feel good. Do I look good?"
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you've been making love to somebody who really did a job on you."
Liz giggled. "But that couldn't happen on duty. You busy."
"No."
"Let's go cheer up our appendix."
They turned down the corridor together. Jane was surprised to feel Liz's hand close on hers. She didn't protest, recognizing the gesture as an overflow of Liz's affectionate nature. They must look like two young teenage girls holding hands, she thought. She hoped nobody had seen them. Other than that she certainly didn't mind.
The appendix, Hank Carson, had a reading tray set up and was scowling at pages covered with mathematical formulas. Seeing them, he clapped the book shut, and thrust a hand to his hair to smooth out the tangles.
He said, "So you're paired up for protection, huh? One I can rape. Two I have to seduce."
Liz told him, "We're slumming. This is the freak room, isn't it? You're the one that gets salt peter in your lemonade, I think."
"Is that what you did? Is that why it stays soft?"
Liz sat on the bedside chair and grasped his pulse, laying her wrist watch on his arm. She said, "We're going to increase the dosage because if it gets stiff that pulls the skin from your wound. We don't want it to tear open."
"But, Nurse, when it starts growing it pulls skin all over my body, I mean it takes up so much slack I can't even close my eyes, there's no skin left to cover them."
"Then the treatment is right for you," Liz said.
Chuckling inwardly, Jane sat on the end of the bed. She wished that she could make such jokes. A cheerful nurse could do a lot for patients. Was she a prude? She hoped not.
Hank said, "Since there's two of you, you could help me to the john and won't have to call the male nurse."
Liz stiffened. "I know you. With one of us on each side of you, you'd rise up like a ball bat and tear out all your sutures."
"What a way to go!" Hank said. He winked at Jane.
Jane blushed. Yes, dammit, she was blushing! To cover up, she pointed to his book and asked, "Algebra?"
"Qual. Qualitative analysis. I'm a pre-med student, see. Because of the nurses. I've been big on nurses since the last time I was in the hospital and she used to walk me to the john. She would sort of lead me by my handle."
"She must have had big hands," Liz said, "to even get a grip on it."
Hank burst into laughter that ended in a groan of pain, and he grasped his stretched groin.
Liz said, "The male nurse has very big hands."
"Oh, shut up," Hank told her, tears running from his eyes as he fought laughter.
In the hall Liz again caught Jane's hand as they went toward the nurses' lounge. She said, "Hey, tomorrow is Saturday. Want to go to the movies? Or d'you have a date?"
"I haven't anything on."
"Gosh, a beautiful chick like you with no Saturday-night date!"
"There's more important things, Liz. My B.S., for one. I'm pretty determined. And I like to spend some time with Dad. He's great. Why don't you come over for dinner? And then we'll go to the show. Dad would love to meet you."
"Sure! If I had to face another TV dinner I'd upchuck. My roommate's the cook and she's away on weekends, shacking up with her guy."
She squeezed Jane's hand, a quirky, affectionate pressure.
Jane still felt embarrassed at a girl holding her hand in public, but she liked Liz too much to tell her not to.