At seven o'clock on Monday morning, Perry was sitting down on the john just as Laura was emerging from the shower. She'd had a good deal more to drink than he had the day before, and now she still looked a little drunk. Her blue eyes were largely hidden by her lashes. There was a small, aimless smile on her kiss-bruised lips, and she had to steady herself from time to time as she toweled her lush, young body. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd fucked her, and when he'd fallen asleep the night before he'd felt he might never fuck anyone again. But he'd awakened with a hard-on that morning and a sleepy necking session in bed had further restored his desire for her. He hadn't gotten her to go down on him, but that was all right. He had turned her into a damned good lay, and he was justifiably proud of that accomplishment. Best of all, he knew he didn't have a thing to worry about insofar as her reporting him to anyone. The Miss Tightass he'd raped no longer existed. The chick he was looking at now was Miss Eveready, and he felt like proving that to himself again.
He snapped his fingers and said, "Hey, bring it over here."
"Bring what?" she said, puzzled.
In answer he licked his lips and looked at her box. She grinned crookedly and placed her hands on her hips. She minced toward him in the hip-swinging gait he'd taught her, and she looked just as sexy naked as she did in the sexy lingerie. She stopped with her hairy triangle four inches before his face, thrust it two inches closer, and said, "Is this what you wanted?"
"I'm not sure. Open it up and let's see?"
Her ten fingers drew her labia out and up, and her stance altered to an obscene one. Her clitoris seemed much larger than when he'd first seen it. It was fully exposed and waiting, and without laying a hand on her, he leaned further forward and flicked it with his tongue.
"Ahhh. That's what I need," she said, her voice furry and coming from deep in her throat. "You always know what I need. You really going to work today?"
He nodded, and she made urgent little sighing sounds and moved closer. Standing between his knees, she held herself open with one hand and used the other to caress his head. He concentrated on her cut for perhaps a minute and then backed off, and taking his cock in his hand, pointed it up at her. Breathing hard, moving her hands restlessly over her body, she gazed hungrily down at it.
"Yeah," she murmured. "That's just what I need now."
"Climb aboard," he said, and closed his legs.
She came forward awkwardly but quickly, not caring how ungraceful were her movements. He played with her tits with both hands, further stimulating her while she made the insertion. Eager and half-drunk as she was, she did it well, holding herself open with her left hand, grasping his cock with her right, guiding them together, then sighing all the way as she sat down facing him, with his long, hard prick sliding home.
She worked her ass around on his lap, making the fit even more comfortable and getting that delicious friction she so badly needed. She squeezed him as hard as she could with her cunt and she smiled as she did, partly because of the blissful expression it brought to him, partly because it felt so damned good. He was working her tits over good, too, and she in turn tweaked his cute little nipples for him. Rolling her weight on her mobile ass-cheeks, she did the work in moving him in and out. She stopped with it halfway out, and both of them grinned as they looked at their intimate union. Their eyes met and she stuck her tongue out and beckoned to him. He came forward and they tangled tongues, and even without moving, both could feel their orgasms approaching. His fingers dug into her tits, and there it came. It sent her senses skyrocketing and she started moving, fast. Sucking on his cunt-tasting mouth, toes digging at the bathroom floor, she sloshed his big, fat prick in and out of her with all her might until both were moaning and clutching, gasping and coming, and whipping their mixed love juices into a foamy lather.
She clung to him with her head on his shoulder while their breathing slowly came hack to normal. From time to time he squeezed her buttocks, and each little squeeze was a sharp reminder of the bliss of orgasm. He slapped her there sharply and she moaned at how good it all felt.
"Better get up," he said. "I gotta go to work, even if you don't."
"I'm just gonna sleep all day."
"Thatsa girl. And when I get home, you're gonna be all dolled up for me and have a nice big gin and tonic waiting for me, right?"
She nodded and snuggled closer.
"So, get up, chickie. I gotta take a leak."
"Mm. So do I," she said, but she didn't move.
"Why didn't you do it in the shower?"
"Didn't think of it. I think I'm still a little drunkie. Are you?"
"I feel okay. But get up. Now."
She drew back, and with her arms still slung about his neck, looked him squarely in the eye. There was an odd little smile on her lips as she said, "D'you really have to pee?"
"I sure do."
"So do I," she said, and her breathing increased.
Her nipples rose and her creased belly moved in and out with her faster breathing. A startled expression came over Perry's face and both of them looked down at where her urine was bubbling up through their mingled hairs.
"D'you mind?" she panted, squirming her nipples against his chest.
"Well… no," he said.
"You do it too. Quickly! Pee in me. Now!"
"Horny bitch," he said, chuckling, and wishing he could feel all the things she was knowing in this weird orgasm he'd brought her with his thoroughly limp cock.
At nine o'clock that Monday morning, Helen Peterson was in the pilot plant, going through the pictures Perry had taken with her camera. Seated on his desk, her shapely legs crossed under her miniskirt, she said, "It's hard to believe it's the same girl. You did a good job on her."
"Yep," he said, hands clasped behind his neck, rocking back and forth in his old swivel chair. "I got her turned on to everything but blowing me, and I don't need that. I'm sure I got what I needed, that she won't say a word about this to anyone. I sure thank you, Helen."
"My pleasure," she said, returning to look at a picture of Laura on his bed, smiling for the camera, one hand holding a drink, the other cupped over her black bikinied crotch. "And you're willing to settle for that?"
"Hell, no. I'm gonna be fucking her regular now, I'm sure of that. She's a damned good lay. She like to wore me out."
"Think she'd swing with somebody besides you?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I know a good way to find out." He grinned. "You and Bobby come over tonight."
"That's one thing I had in mind."
He placed his hand on her nylon-covered leg and said, "Our minds work the same way. I think you and me could get along pretty good, Helen. What else did you have in mind?"
"I mentioned to you that I didn't always give it away. That's still true about me."
"I suppose you got where you are at Consolidated by not giving it away. Good for you."
"I sure as hell didn't get to be an executive secretary by being a company gal, like Laura Dandridge. It's a good job, but sometimes I get bored in Sulfur City. Like about once a month. Then I get on a plane on Friday night and fly to Las Vegas. I see some shows, do some gambling, eat and drink pretty well-and it doesn't cost me a cent. I have some friends there, you see. They line me up with three or four dates over the weekend. I'm nice to them, and they're nice to me. It's a good arrangement for a gal."
"Yeh. It sounds good," he said, looking at her with new respect, and reaching toward the lacy hem of her panties with his fingers.
"I'd like to see little Laura get in on a good thing like that. I'd like to see her working there all the time, getting all the cock she wants, and more. I know my friends there would appreciate her working for them. They'd appreciate it enough, I'd say, to arrange for a nice weekend in Vegas for you, if you could help talk Laura into changing her profession. Would you like to spend a weekend in Vegas?"
"Yes," he said, "and if you're gonna be there at the same time, hell yes. I'll start talking to her about it as soon as I get home."
"No. Don't rush it. I know about these things, and she has to be approached right. Wait till after our little party, and let me do most of the talking."
"You're the boss when it comes to this, Helen." He pushed up her skirt, exposing more of her full, tapered thighs. "Feel like a little party now? She didn't wear me out all the way this weekend."
She looked over her shoulder, through the window at the empty road and the chemical plant at the end of it. She uncrossed her legs and placed one high-heeled foot in his lap. Working her toe against the bulge there, she said, "You better save that for tonight. But how's your tongue? Is that tired?"
He stuck it out and wriggled it, as if testing it, and said, "It feels fine. How do you like it, slow or fast, plain or fancy?"
"Slow and fast, plain and fancy, and front and back," she replied, and lifted her hips to let him take down her panties.
Laura awoke sometime after noon with a mild headache and a ravenous appetite. She drank a strong, fortifying Bloody Mary while she cooked a breakfast fit for a farmhand, and drank another while eating it. She took her second shower of the day and washed her hair, and with a towel wrapped around her head, she washed out the lingerie she'd worn most of Saturday night and Sunday. It was sunny outside and she put on one of Perry's shirts and cautiously ventured out on the front porch. The dog growled at her at first, but when she held out her hand his ears perked up and his tongue lolled out and he permitted her to pet him. He followed her to the end of his chain and she went on to the clothesline, where the lingerie was hung out to dry. There were no neighbors to see it, or her, so she took off the shirt and strolled around the littered yard and got some sun. Returning to the house, the dog touched his cold nose against her ass and she slapped him. Inside, she made another drink, turned on the TV, and flopped down on the couch to watch it. The daytime programs were dull, but they kept her mind occupied.
There was little to do around there when Coleman was gone. She'd probably spend the whole week there, sleeping and drinking and fucking. She knew she should go to her apartment, if only to check her mailbox, but that seemed like another world, one which was too much trouble to even try to return to. Her cunt was sore and she gently rubbed the mild pain away, but she didn't feel like masturbating. She just felt like going a little deeper into the state of near mindlessness in which she'd existed for the past two days.
She couldn't marry Perry. There had to be more to a husband than a sex partner, no matter how good a partner he was. And she couldn't marry Chuck, not now, having discovered the big fat streak of nymphomania that ran through her. And college? That was out too, for she'd never again be able to concentrate on books, not when there were so many better things to do. Her best plan would be to stay with Consolidated, transfer away from this town where everyone knew her, and have herself a ball in one of the big cities where the company had a plant. There she could live it up like that redheaded woman-that company whore.
She grinned as she thought of Helen Peterson making it with Perry the week before in the pilot plant. That very morning, she'd been in the same position with him, swapping tongues the same way, his hard meat just as deep in her cunt. But she'd outdone the voluptuous redhead by making it on a toilet, and then being able to have a final orgasm from peeing on each other. With a sexuality like Laura had, she'd outdo most women. She'd sure have a time for herself when she got her transfer to San Francisco or St. Louis or Detroit. Mr. Markham would put up an argument, but in the end he'd arrange it for her. And Chuck would take it hard, but in the long run, he'd be better off without her.
But don't think about him. He was just another cock. If she had to look to the future, think about herself and all the sweaty good times she'd have rolling in a bed with a vigorous, horny, uninhibited stud like Perry Coleman.
The soap opera was making her melancholy and she went outside to see if her laundry was dry. The dog met her and she squatted naked on the porch to rub his ears, looking around at the quiet rural scene as she did. She'd miss Sulfur City for a while, but she'd outgrown the place. And she'd fit into whatever plant she could get transferred to, for they were all the same, with different faces, different men working in them. The dog touched his nose to her knee and tried to sniff at her exposed crotch, and she shoved him away and went on to the clothesline. Back inside, she mixed herself another drink and tried on various of the lingerie, modeling it before the mirror and trying to decide which to wear for him. She wished he'd hurry, and she hoped he could sneak a nap at work. She settled on the basic black panty-bra set. There was no lace on them, but you could see right through them. The bra was a size too small and made her tits bulge over the top of it, but its tightness felt good, and it would turn Perry on when he got home. Her headache was gone and she had a nice buzz on from the drinks. She put on some records and lay down on the couch to take a little nap while she waited for quitting time at the plant. Dozing off, she thought about her chances of fucking Perry Coleman to death during the rest of her vacation, and that made her smile.