Chapter 2

Upset, Susan drove around and around in her Ford Escort until the sun sank into the Pacific ocean. A beautiful sunset came and went without her ever taking notice. Sad, angry thoughts occupied her mind and tears stained her cheeks. She had no idea where she was going until she saw the place—a seedy-looking watering hole tucked away in the corner of some rundown industrial district. She had never been there before in her life. Driven by some deep, half-understood need, she swung her car into the parking lot, got out, and went inside.

It was dark inside the bar, darker even than the night outside. Neon beer displays provided most of the illumination. The sunglasses that Susan wore to hide her red, swollen eyes did nothing to enhance her vision. Dark as it was, though, she was able to make out a few details. To her right, taking up fully half the space of the common room, were the dart boards and pool tables. Next to her stood a juke box blaring out deep-throated country and western tunes. The other half of the room was taken up by the bar, a few tables and chairs, and a small wooden dance floor. There were about twenty customers in the whole place, all of them men. They looked at her as she stood just inside the entrance, hugging her leather jacket tightly to her body as if afraid it would blow away. They looked at her good and long, from top to bottom, with appreciation. Susan felt her pulse quicken and blood rise to her cheeks. She was not displeased by the attention she was attracting. Watched by twenty pairs of eyes, she strode to the bar and took a stool.

The burly bartender was there in a moment. "What'll it be, lady?" he asked. His voice was gruff and gravelly but his eyes, set in a square, close-cropped head that could belong to the marine corps, were soft and sympathetic.

Susan reflected that it had been fourteen years since she had last stepped foot in a bar. Then she had been twenty-one and it had been her birthday. Howard, her fiance, had taken her there with some friends to celebrate her coming of legality. It was a fun time. She tried to remember what she had ordered that day so long ago.

"I'll have a beer," she said.

"Budweiser, Coors, Miller, or Corona?"

Good god, the choices! It had been fourteen years since she had had her last beer as well. What was it that she always bought for Howard? Budweiser?

"Corona," she said. She liked the sound of that name.

"Bottle or mug?"

More choices! "Bottle, I guess."

The bartender got a bottle out of the ice box, popped off the cap, and set it down in front of her on a small napkin. Susan dug into her purse and held out a five dollar bill to the man.

"How much?"

The bartender put up both hands and backed away. "First one's on the house," he said. "Next one's on whatever gentleman offers first. If no one offers, and that's not likely, lady, you pay your tab when you're ready to leave."

"Oh," was all Susan could say. She had no idea what proper bar etiquette was. It had been so long since she had last gone out by herself.

The bartender moved on down to another customer. Susan took a sip from her bottle and grimaced. She remembered why it had been fourteen years since her last beer: she really didn't like the stuff. It tasted so bitter, and the bitterness lasted so long on her tongue. Yet if this was the path to drunken oblivion, she would pursue it. She did remember that she had liked the lightheaded feeling beer gave her. She took another sip of the golden liquid and forced herself to swallow it.

Being the only female in the joint made her nervous. The men continued to stare at her as she drank. She was aware that the brown leather jacket she wore over her lingerie scarcely reached down far enough to conceal her panties. Her long, gorgeous legs, wrapped in red netting from mid-thigh down to spiked high heels, were fully revealed. She knew she must present the picture of the perfect trollop, perhaps even a whore. Yet, some part of her was comforted by their appraisal. In their eyes she was a woman, a fact she desperately wanted to remind herself of.

Susan felt her eyes drawn to one man in particular who sat a few stools down from her. He wore a cowboy hat and snake skin boots and appeared to be about fifty years of age. He had respectable silver-gray hair and a hard-muscled body. For all the lines on his face, he appeared quite youthful; he was one of those men who aged gracefully, unlike Howard. His blue eyes— cool, confident, serene—had never left Susan's body from the moment she had first stepped through the door. Those eyes captured Susan's. She shivered under their bold assessment.

"You know, if you want to get laid tonight, missy, you should smile a little more," he said to her softly.

The joke fell flat with Susan. Her lips puckered out in annoyance. The nerve of that man! But then, she realized that he had not been joking at all. He was offering her serious advice based on an honest appraisal of her need. And what, exactly, was her need? The answer to that question surprised her, though it shouldn't have. For the first time, her subconscious thoughts bubbled to the surface of her mind and she realized why she had stopped at this bar. She was here to get herself laid! Curse the old cowboy for seeing right through her. Her anger quickly evaporated under the light of truth.

"I've been having some problems lately," she explained.

"Of course," he answered with a slow nod, as if the explanation was obvious. Then he turned away from her. "Hey, Ron!" he called out to the bartender. "The little lady's next drink is on me, okay?"

"Okay," Ron returned. He did not bother to turn away from the glasses he was washing in the sink. Since there was only one lady here, he knew exactly which one was being referred to.

The silver-haired cowboy did not return his eyes to Susan. Instead, he took out a deck of playing cards and began to play solitaire with himself. The follow-up line that Susan expected never came, somewhat to her disappointment. Apparently, he was in no hurry to make his moves on her.

Susan finished her beer and started a second and then a third one. Unused to alcohol, she already had a buzz going. Her head nodded slightly. Men began to creep in closer to her, rehearsing their pick-up lines in their heads. Perhaps they sensed a growing weakness in her inhibitions. By the fourth or fifth beer, Susan thought, the boldest of the men would surely make his move. She prepared herself to receive the proposition. Her cunt quivered at the possibility of sex, but just then, something happened that drew the much-desired attention away from her.

The door to the bar opened. Heads turned as a pair of young females sauntered in. Both were pretty and sexily dressed. Susan's reaction to their arrival was curious. Rather than being relieved at no longer being the lone female in the bar, she was suddenly jealous. The most primitive part of her brain told her that here was competition—fierce competition. One girl, a redhead, had huge, eye-catching tits crammed into a half-top several sizes too small. The other, a tall, striking blonde, wore a short miniskirt that showcased her stunning legs—legs on par with Susan's own. She watched in irritation as the men in the bar began to fasten their eyes on the new arrivals, ignoring her.

The girls were a haughty pair. They had noticed Susan immediately and dismissed her as being too old. They had no worries that she could steal the best of the men away from them. As they made their slow, showy entrance into the bar, Susan swallowed her jealousy. She told herself she had nothing to fear from them. Their youthful confidence was totally misguided. She had had command of the sexual stage once before and would have it again. She knew how to beat these young hussies at their own game. They were still virgins to the complicated arts of the mating game. Although it had been a long time since her bachelorette years, she still knew a few tricks. Back then, she had competed with a score of other beautiful girls to win her high school's most prized stud: Howard. And in college, she had accomplished the even more difficult task of retaining him and getting him to propose marriage. Grabbing her half-finished bottle, she stood up and started walking towards the women's rest room, slowly, provocatively. There was a mission in her stride.

"You smell nice," a man complimented her as she passed him, trailing perfume.

She took the old cowboy's advice and smiled.

Once in the bathroom, Susan opened her jacket and looked at her body in the mirror. No, she decided, she was not a has-been at the age of thirty-five. Let those young interlopers out there think what they will. Her body compared favorably to theirs; she figured she had ten more good years left to it. She was determined that during those next ten years, her body would not go to waste. Sex was on her mind when she promised herself that.

Unlike the two hussies, Susan wore no makeup and had no plans to put any on. She would use her God-given gifts to accomplish her conquest. She opened her bra, which was practically invisible anyway, and stared at her tits. Her tits weren't especially large, but they were nicely shaped, something to be proud of. The nipples, though, left something to be desired. They were rather deflated right now, but Susan knew how to correct that problem; that is why she had brought the beer. She took the ice-cold bottle and touched the bottom rim to one of her pink circles of flesh. She shivered at the contact, and smiled at the result.

A few minutes later, Susan walked back out into the common room. She stood just outside the rest room, waiting to be noticed. She saw that the two other girls had taken a table in the middle of the room. They lounged sipping wine coolers with their legs crossed and their hands playing through their hair. Already, men were circling them, planning their strategy, and thinking of how to fend off the competition. The girls seemed happy to be the object of so much desire and male posturing.

Yet, when Susan reappeared, the men quickly shifted their attention back to her, eyes popping. Her jacket was open in the front, revealing an hourglass figure clad in scanty lingerie. Her nipples, showing through the sheer fabric of her bra, were hard and erect and appetizing to behold. Her pubic hair could be dimly seen through her lacy underwear, damp with unchecked arousal. Her glasses were off and her eyes sparkled with allure, with promise. Susan was aware that she was probably breaking a number of indecency laws, but didn't care.

Rather than return to her bar stool, Susan walked out to the middle of the small dance floor. Her movements were slow and designed to attract attention. The attention that the two hussies gave her was downright hostile, but the men smiled and tipped their mugs and beer bottles to her in salute. Susan basked in their admiration, feeling a seductive demon take control over of her body. She wanted to make these men cum for her, both literally and figuratively. As the next song on the juke box started up, she began to dance to it. The song was an old country and western ballad sung by Patsy Kline, which provided the perfect backdrop for her slow, slinky gyrations. She removed her jacket, let it drop to the floor, and allowed everyone to see her svelte body, including her naked ass cheeks as she turned around to show them off. Men abandoned their pool and dart games to come over and watch, their drooling mouths agape, mugs and beer bottles held forgotten in their hands. A few of them began to shout encouragement to her, wanting her to take it all off. Susan felt her body temperature rise in arousal. A fire had ignited and was now smoldering in her cunt.

When the song ended and another one began, Susan decided she did not want to dance alone anymore. She pointed at one brawny young man who was one of her loudest fans and beckoned him by crooking her finger. He was so surprised to be singled out that he stood rooted in his spot for several moments. Finally, propelled forward by his buddies, he arrived, smelling of beer and sweat, his eyes full of admiration and desire for her.

"Do you like slow dancing, darling?" she asked him in a sugared voice. After more than a decade of disuse, she was surprised at how easily sweet talk came back to her. "Slow dancing, up close and personal?"

It took the fellow a moment to find his tongue. "I sure do, ma'am! I sure do!"

"Then why don't you dance with me for a while? It's cold out here on this dance floor all alone."

He nodded his head in assent. She wrapped her arms around his waist and ground her pussy into his groin.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, taken by surprise, but not disliking it one bit.

Susan found out his name was Hank. Hank didn't have an erection then, but by the end of the dance, he did. Through the next two minutes, Susan took him on a slow ride through heaven on that dance floor. He sweated a good deal, but not from exertion. Susan just had that kind of effect on men. She admired Hank's strong, muscular body, taking every opportunity to slyly feel him up. This really stimulated him. Attractive though he was, there was still a lot more men to choose from. She could afford to be picky. She dismissed him at the end of the song, laughing as he ran off urgently to the rest room, not to take a piss, but to so obviously jack off.

"Next!" she shouted.

The next man who came up to her was already wearing his hard-on and grinning in embarrassment about it. Susan danced with him and eighteen other men, always with her body pressed closely to theirs. It didn't matter whether they were handsome or ugly. They were men and their admiration fulfilled a need in Susan. At the end of an hour, she had danced with all of the men in the bar except one. The silver-haired cowboy stood waiting at the edge of the dance floor, smiling at her in his confident, serene way. She did not know why she had not called him earlier. When the last man was sent away, he did not wait for an invitation. He came over to her on his own accord and took her hands in his.

"I want to fuck you, hot legs, not dance with you," were the first words out of his mouth.

His directness startled Susan into silence for a brief moment. None of the other men had made a remark like that. Then she smiled coyly at him as her response rolled easily off her tongue. "If you know anything about women, partner, then you'd know that dancing is a form of foreplay not to be dismissed so lightly."

He stared at her a moment and then nodded, acknowledging her superior wisdom about her own sex. They began dancing together. Unlike the previous men, who were shy and just a little bit awed by her sexuality, he took the lead with her. He planted his big, calloused hands on her bare ass cheeks and pulled her to him. His rock-hard cock, bulging in the middle of his blue jeans, ground pleasantly into Susan's feminine mound. She closed her eyes and groaned, the ache in her pussy flaring. She almost passed out from the erotic version of heat stroke which suffused her entire body. Resting her head on his shoulder, she allowed herself to be carried along in his tight embrace. She suddenly felt that her legs were too weak to support herself without assistance.

He stroked her long, silky hair. "You dance very well," he whispered into her ear after an interval.

Susan murmured a thanks. His voice sent delightful tickles down her spine.

"What's your name, sweet thing?"

"Susan," she answered in a voice barely audible.

"Pretty name for a pretty girl. My name's Rick."

"Hmm, rhymes with dick," she said dreamily. "Pleased to meet you, Rick-rhymes-with-dick."

Rick laughed. "Likewise."

They danced cheek to cheek for several minutes, not saying another word to each other. The song ended and a new one began. Unlike before, she did not dismiss her partner at the change, but kept on dancing with him. His strong arms felt good around her. His hands kneaded her soft ass and thighs melodically, generating sparks of lust in her loins. She closed her eyes and luxuriated in the pleasant warmth that spread throughout her body. The close proximity of his straining cock to her cunt caused her juices to gush forth. She knew her panties must now be thoroughly soaked, but didn't care if anyone noticed.

When the third song ended, Rick held her away at arm's length, breathing deeply. "I can't stand it any longer, honey buns," he said. "Let me take you to my home and fuck you, fuck you like you've never believed. My dick is so hard it hurts."

Breathless, Susan found herself nodding. "Okay."

He took her by the hand and led her out of the bar, much to the envy and disappointment of the other male bar patrons, but to the relief of the two young hussies, who had been ignored throughout Susan's dancing. In the parking lot, he thrust her into his van and closed the sliding metal door behind him. Once inside, he began taking off his clothes, and urged her to do the same.

"Hey!" Susan protested. "I thought we were going to your home to fuck."

"This is my home, sweetheart."

"Oh."

Looking around, she noticed that the van was littered with personal belongings, including piles of clothes, boxes of groceries, a battered ice box, empty cans of beer, carpentry and automotive tools, pornographic magazines, and a bare mattress. Susan was sitting on the mattress. It had obviously been used before for fucking. The leakage from countless pussies stained its middle.

Susan must have seemed disappointed to him, because Rick felt the need to explain. "I'm a construction worker, you see. I travel around to where the jobs are."

Susan smiled to reassure him that she was still interested. "And are you going to do a job on me?"

He smiled back. "I sure am, hot legs, I sure am."

That was all Susan needed to know. She removed her panties and spread her legs for him. He whistled appreciatively at her wet, pink pussy as it was revealed to him. In his opinion, pussies were God's most glorious gift to man. He was now naked except for his boots and cowboy hat, which he never removed. Susan saw that he had a fat eight-inch dick sticking out of his midsection and the ache in her pussy flared into a burning yearning. She thrust her hips at him. silently begging him to fall down on top of her. He complied without hesitation. He buried his hard meat to the hilt in her hot, wet cunt.

"Oh!" she cried.

"Ahhhhhhh!" he sighed. He let his dick idle in her for a long moment, drinking in her warmth. "That feels so good in there. My God, little lady, you are one fine piece of horseflesh, do you know that?"

Susan found that she liked being called horseflesh. It stimulated her for some reason. "Ride me, cowboy."

He began riding her. He rode her slowly at first, not hurrying. His strokes were long and measured and well-aimed. Though he did not say so, he had been so stimulated by her dancing earlier that he was in danger of exploding at any moment. He didn't want that to happen, not now. He performed arithmetic in his head to distract and lessen his excitement. Inexperienced young men ejaculated prematurely, not experienced old studs like him. He wanted to ride this mare long and get the greatest amount of pleasure from her that he could. He had fucked many females in his lifetime, but Susan, he felt, was going to go down in history as being his hottest pussy ever. Even the twin eighteen-year-old virgins down in Santa Fe had not given him the same rise that she now did.

Susan was in a heaven of her own. To her, that cock in her cunt was a piston of pleasure, energizing her sex drive. Her drippage greased that iron-hard shaft so that it slipped in and out of her cylinder easily. She could not remember the last time she had felt such utter joy. Howard had not touched her since the third Friday of last month, and even then, it had been just a quick in and out job, performed more as a duty than with any real desire. What Rick offered her was the kind of sex she needed, the kind of sex which sent electricity coursing through her system and paralyzing her with ecstasy. Susan needed this kind of sex every day.

Even as she was being fucked, she objectively analyzed what was happening to her. Part of her attraction to Rick, she knew, was just the excitement inherent in fucking a total stranger. Before her marriage, she had had enough casual sex to know the difference. But she also knew that Howard, her husband, just didn't try to excite her anymore. Once a fine athlete, a terror on the high school and college gridirons, he had grown lazy of late. He came home from work tired and went immediately to bed after guzzling down a six-pack of beer. Many times he just slept on the sofa, too lethargic to get up and walk the distance to the bedroom. He showed more spirit watching football on Sunday afternoons than he did when drilling his wife.

It was a damned waste of good horseflesh, she could imagine Rick, her benefactor, saying.

Rick was drilling her real good. He had increased the tempo of his assault a bit, much to her satisfaction. His cock fit her like a glove, taking up every nook and cranny in her pussy. Every time it rubbed past Susan's clit and plunged deep into her warm, pulpy tunnel, shudders rocked her body. He did not just find her G spot, he found her entire alphabet of pleasure zones. His style indicated that he was an expert at sex, got plenty of it. His whole body got into the groove of lovemaking, knowing exactly how to service a female's special needs.

"Ohhhh," Susan moaned in ecstasy. "Ohhhhhhhhh."

Her cunt salivated for Rick's cock. It wanted to gobble up every cubic inch of it. She wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust at him with her hips to encourage deeper penetration. Sensing her lusty need, Rick stabbed into her harder and faster than ever, pounding away at her midsection with animal abandon. This action sent waves of hot-cold energy coursing through Susan's undulating body. She gasped at its searing intensity, overwhelmed. She grasped his arms and melded her body to his at the hips, wanting more, hungering for every ounce of pleasure that he gave her. Beneath her, she could feel the van rocking back and forth erotically in tune to their combined efforts.

Rick's eyes feasted on Susan's body as his cock slammed into. Women were never more beautiful than when they were being fucked, he thought, and Susan was no exception. Her flawless white skin was flushed and perspiring. Sweat plastered wisps of hair to her forehead as it ran down her lovely, perfectly sculpted face, straining with the effort of lovemaking. The hot blood pounding through her veins and arteries caused her lips and breasts to swell and deepen in color. Her nipples, seen through her flimsy, transparent bra, were hard, red bullets of flesh, begging to be tweaked. Susan's fully dilated pupils showed that she was in a state of maximum arousal. She squirmed on the end of his cock as if it caused her great discomfort, but Rick knew better than that. Her cunt was ravenously hungry for his cock. He recognized a sex-starved woman when he saw one, and he happily fed her what she craved.

Susan closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side, unable to believe the sensations that coursed through her body. Responding to a compulsion, she removed her bra and fondled her tits. It was hard to get a good grip on them because Rick was ramming into her so hard they jiggled all over the place. She pinched her nipples to hold them still, gave them a twist. They were so charged with sensitivity that they flinched from her touch, sending tingles down her spine to resonate in her clit, which itself was overloaded with stimulation. She gasped and writhed. Her clit was storing up sexual energy like a dam and soon that dam would burst.

Rick could sense how close she was. Her breathing was becoming deeper and more strained. On the verge of orgasm himself, he suddenly removed his dick from her pussy.

Susan's eyes flew open. "Hey!" she whimpered in protest, still rocking her hips. "What gives?"

"Don't worry," Rick said. "I'm not done with you yet. I'm merely changing positions for the drive home."

"Oh."

Rick turned her over and propped her up on her hands knees. He wanted to do it horsey-style, which was the way he liked it best. He entered her from behind and began fucking her fast and furious, like a jack hammer. This was too much for Susan. Her vocalized breath ululated. She felt the fire in her snatch reaching the flashpoint. She was so close.

But to Rick, she was not close enough, because he was already there. He grabbed her long mane of auburn hair and pulled it straight back, forcing her head up. She yelped in surprise. With his free hand he slapped her gorgeous ass, quivering under the assault of his pelvic movements.

"Come on, girl, cum for Poppa!" he shouted. "Cum for Poppa, girl! I can't hold out much longer. Let's do it together, you and me."

Having her hair pulled on was mildly painful, yet it seemed to do the trick it was intended. Susan's pussy tightened around Rick's cock and she immediately orgasmed. Rick spilled his semen into her twat at the same instant, pumping nonstop. Susan screamed, and screamed, and screamed, drowning out her partner's low groan. Waves of multiple orgasms rocked her body, coursing along every nerve. She shuddered with each one, her body twitching. This was the sweet pain she had so longed for and had finally received. She had not received such a good fuck in years. Her joy was almost unendurable.

Rick continued to pull hard on her hair and continued to pump her relentlessly, filling her pussy full of his hot jism. As the orgasmic spasms reached their ultimate climax, Susan bucked like a wild bronco, unable to control herself. She humped Rick's cock harder than he humped her cunt. Her movements reached a frenzied tempo. Her scream reached its highest pitch yet and then abruptly died. Her body shuddered to a stop.

Sanity returned.

She stood there on all fours, panting, dripping sweat. Rick's dick, sodden with both of their emissions, grew limp and he took it out of her pussy, dragging out a long chain of white drool. Utterly spent, they sank down beside each other on the mattress. Rick idly stroked Susan's slick breasts and belly as he cuddled with her.

"Well," he said after a long moment, when he had regained his breath, "what did you think about that ride, missy?"

Susan smiled. "I liked it, but I think you need new springs for your home."

The van they were in was still rocking from the intercourse they had just had.