Chapter 4
Jim rolled the can of cold beer across his forehead as he looked at Carla, at the sheer gown that accentuated her voluptuous body, at the sexy half-bra and panties that looked like a tiny handkerchief held up by a string, at the black marabou mules with spike heels, and shrugged with indifference.
"Give me a break," he grumbled, "I had a hard day."
"I went shopping today and bought this just for you," she said. She twirled so the long, sheer black gown would billow out and show off her legs. She thought she had a good body, not beauty queen quality, but unquestionably better than average. "I didn't have such a good day, either. I got laid off, but that doesn't mean we can't have some fun tonight."
"You wasted your money," he replied in a flat voice. "I'm not interested."
She twirled and turned on the radio and danced to the soft rock music, her spike heels clicking on the hardwood floor as her feet moved rapidly in time to the music. As seductively as she knew how, she removed the thin gown and tossed it aside, turning and posing for him as she danced, shaking her head, and her long black tresses swirled.
"I'm going to stimulate you," she said softly, "get you so turned on you can't stand it, then we're going to fuck our brains out."
She had painted her full lips a deep red color. She licked them slowly, making them glisten wetly as she pulled her bra down and covered her tits with her hands. As well as she could. The mounds were much too large for her hands to conceal. She spread her fingers and let her fat nipples peek out and licked her lips again, renewing the wetness so they would continue to shine, looked down at her tits, then cut her eyes up seductively as she wet one finger and rubbed it over a nipple. The large areola puckered, and the long bud thickened. She lifted her eyes and gazed at him as she rubbed her other nipple.
Grinning mischievously, she put her hands under the heavy globes and pointed the nipples at him as she danced, then jerked her hands away and pushed her chest out and shook her shoulders to make her tits bounce and jiggle. She danced back a couple of steps and spread her legs, slid one hand under the tiny patch of material covering her prominent mound and let her fingers cavort over her pussy.
"Why don't you undress, baby? You don't want to fuck with your clothes on, do you?"
He continued to look at her with a bland expression and cursed under his breath. Why couldn't she understand that he wanted her to leave him alone, let him watch something on the boob tube and drink a few beers? For Christ's sake, she was acting like they were married or something, and he had to screw her every time he turned around.
She wasn't so aggressive when he moved in with her. If she had been, he would still be living in his own apartment. Compared to her house, it was a dump, but it was his dump, and nobody bugged him to do anything he didn't want to.
It must be that damn job. Ever since she got promoted and started making more money than he did, she had been trying to boss him around and acting like he owed her something.
"I told you, I'm not interested," he mumbled.
"Oh, I'll bet you are," she said. "You're just playing hard to get to tease me. I'll bet your cock is getting hard. Why don't you take it out and show it to me?"
She pushed her panties down, still trying to move with the music. When she straightened up, she spread her legs very wide, put her hands on her hips, and did a bump and grind as she extended her middle finger and ran it down her belly, let it go lower and touch her clit, and played with herself as she danced toward him.
She stopped with her knees nearly touching his, spread her legs wide apart again, and watched him closely as she tickled her clit. She put her other hand in her crotch and stuck two fingers up her glory hole, pumped them in and out, and massaged her clit harder and faster, and her love button swelled and rose under the tip of her finger. If he didn't make his move soon, she was going to cum all by herself!
Her lascivious behavior almost disgusted him. In spite of his revulsion, her lewd display stimulated him and his cock began to swell in his pants. He rolled the can of cold beer across his forehead again then guzzled a gulping swig, trying to reconcile the simultaneous emotions of strong aversion and strange attraction.
Her fingers made a squishy sound as she thrust them in and out of her wet hole, and he could smell her musky aroma. Some of his buddies talked about eating pussy, muff diving, going down, and several other terms used to describe the act, joking that once you got past the smell, you had it licked. Not him, he wasn't going to put his tongue in anything he fucked.
She thrust her mound out and bent over and looked at her pussy as she used both hands to spread the lips wide open, then looked at him, her eyes smoldering with passion. "Look at it, baby," she cooed. "You want it, don't you? You want to enjoy all the pleasure it can give you, don't you?"
"God damn, Carla, why can't you leave well enough alone? I told you, I had a hard day."
She straightened up and put her hands on her hips and stabbed him with a look that dripped icicles. "You don't give a fuck about me, do your'
"What kind of question is that? I moved in with you, didn't I? How can you ask such a thing?"
"Oh, it gets easier every day," she snapped. "For the past month, you've acted as if I don't even exist, much less live here. I haven't said anything, but this is the last straw. I tell you that I got laid off and want to party and take my mind off my troubles, and all you want to do is sit there and swill beer."
"Bullshit, you haven't said anything. You're on my case all the time, biting my ass about this and that and God knows what else. Because you got laid off, next thing I know, you'll be after me to pay your bills."
"You've never paid any of my bills, so why should you start now? Anyway, I don't need your help. I've got some money saved, and I'm going to use my paid vacation time until they call me back."
"You just can't help rubbing it in that you make more than I do, can you? Why don't you just give it a rest?"
"Why don't you just get out?"
He chug-a-lugged the rest of his beer and tossed the can on the floor. "What do you mean, get out?"
"You're dumber than I thought. Out means out, hit the bricks," she caught the beer can with her toe and flipped it into his lap, "and take your trash with you."
He looked at her with dull eyes. "What do you mean, get out? I live here."
"Not anymore, you don't."
"You really mean it, don't you?"
"Damn straight, I mean it. You're history, buster, and by the time you reach the door, you'll be ancient history."
"What about my clothes and stuff?"
"Call me tomorrow and tell me where to send your clothes. You don't have any stuff. It's all mine."
He got up and shook his head, then went to the kitchen and got what was left of his six-pack of beer and went to the front door. She stood in the middle of the living room, still naked, her hands on her hips, and stared daggers at him.
"Just so you know," he sneered, "your cunt wasn't worth the trouble."
"Just so you know, next time I'll be sure the guy I pick has a cock big enough for me to feel when he puts it in my worthless cunt." She gave him a steely stare, a look so cold it made him shiver. "In the meantime, I'll have more fun with my vibrator than I ever had with you."
He went out and slammed the door so hard, a picture fell off the wall.
Seething with anger and bitter disappointment, she went into the kitchen and gulped down a glass of cold water and stared out the window into the darkness for a moment, then whirled and threw the glass across the room. The old, heavy tumbler hit the wall with a dull thud, bounced off, and rolled across the floor to her feet.
"Well, fuck it," she muttered. She picked the glass up and set it in the sink.
When she asked Jim to move in with her, she knew there might be trouble because it was her house. But she wasn't about to move into that dump he lived in, and she thought they could work out their differences. Boy, was she wrong!
Come to think of it, she had been wrong about most of the guys she dated, and every one of them she tried to live with. How did Roxy find a wonderful guy like Larry? Did she have some secret, or did she have somebody read the tea leaves or whatever and guide her? It seemed the best she ever did was toss the dice and come up with snake eyes.
Roxy had never come right out and said so, but Carla had the impression that Larry was well-hung and had a very open mind about sex. Boy, she'd give most anything to have a guy with a big cock who genuinely liked sex and knew how to treat a girl.
Thinking about Roxy's good fortune pissed her off, not enough to damage their friendship, but enough. Well, maybe pissed off was too strong. Envy was more like it. By her own admission, Roxy was a terrible cook and hated housework, for Pete's sake! Well, didn't that mean she must be a terrific piece of ass? How else to explain how she caught a guy like Larry and kept him happy?
If she couldn't catch and hold a guy like Larry, did that mean she wasn't a good piece of ass? Lord knows, she tried to be. She willingly and cheerfully sucked cock, and she was pretty sure she did it well, nudity didn't bother her in the least and she could fuck under bright light, even outside in the midday sun, she twisted herself into all kinds of contorted positions for her partner's pleasure at the slightest hint, she didn't plead a headache-even if she had one, she knew that a good tussle in the hay released endorphins that would make it go away, if only for a while-she gave good hand jobs, and she honestly liked sex. Depending on her partner, she might not always enjoy it, but she liked it, and thought that, all in all, she was a pretty fuckable girl.
So, what was wrong? Why couldn't she find and keep a good guy? Good guys didn't always finish last. Larry was a good guy, and just look at the little firecracker he was married to. It had to be her personality or her pussy. She wasn't qualified to dig into her personality, but her pussy was another matter. She could dig into it with the best of them, and trying to entice Jim into fucking her made her as horny as a billy goat. If she was going to dig into her pussy, she might as well look at it at the same time, just to be sure it wasn't deformed or something.
She went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. She didn't have Roxy's classic beauty, but she had a fine, full mouth, big sparkling black eyes and solid, shapely tits. She used to be self-conscious about their size, thought she looked positively top-heavy, but Roxy convinced her that big tits looked good on her. Her five-foot, seven-inch frame could handle them.
She had to admit that most guys she met liked big tits. They liked her pussy, too, for all the good it did her. She had a slender waist and long, shapely thighs, but thought her ass was too heavy and her hips were too big. She worked out as often as she could, and hoped to eventually get her hips and ass to a size she liked.