Frieda looked at the first page of The Coach Eats Out.
Oh, God! Those words in that powerfully written, foreword! How awkwardly phrased; yet, so true, oh so true!
Outwardly normal.
Frieda shut the book, didn't want to be reminded of that horrible Tucumcari night when it had rained for forth minutes and she had climaxed during thirty of them while she was in the back seat of a degraded Packard with two outwardly normal elderly people.
Her asshole tingled. Her cunt-lips quivered. Her pimple-bump throbbed. Just a mild orgasm from the thoughts of what that perverted, outwardly normal, retired couple had done to her before they dropped her off in Flagstaff because they were headed north to Sun City.
Frieda shivered… like her pimple-bump. She stopped her clit from throbbing. She finger-fucked her pussy, drawing her legs up and spreading them widely. Lewdly.
Oh, God! She hadn't fingered her cunt since her college days. When she was dating a boy named Arnold Higgins, the boy who had picked her up hitchhiking outside of Prescott, Arizona.
She had broken her mile of thumb on that ride. But what the hell? At least he had only been one man. What could one man do if she sat way over on her side and kept a good eye on where his hands were?
The car was air-conditioned because it was a Lincoln Continental. And it had all kinds of whirring, power-packed gadgets. Like electrically controlled tilt wheel, power radio antenna, humming reclining seats, and driver-controlled door locks.
Frieda had never been in a Lincoln Continental before. But she sure learned fast about all those buttons that were on Arnold's side of the car.
Like he made the seat recline so far back that it was mom like a tuck and roll bed. And he made the wheel tilt up and away from his body so he could get his cock out without honking the horn or getting it jammed between his belly and the steering wheel.
Frieda had kept a keen eye on what he was doing – then she frantically tried to get the hell out of his luxurious car.
"Please… I'm a virgin."
"So?"
"I am! Believe me! I've never done anything like this."
"You ever seen a cock like this?"
"Huh?"
"Oh, shit. You got any brothers? Or a daddy?"
"W-Well, yeah, but…"
"Then you must have seen their pricks before. That is, if you're normal."
"Well, I-I have, but…"
"Did you ever touch their pricks?"
"W-Well, I-I guess you could say…"
"Then touch my cock. What's the difference?"
"D-Do I have to?"
"Ya wanta ride in air-conditioned luxury to L.A.?"
"Well, sure, but…"
"And you don't wanta be picked up by no rape-horny marines, or same hot-cocked truckers – shit, you don't know what the hell you're gettin' into when you go hitchhiking round the country with no suitcase and just a Bible."
Frieda nodded her head. "Well, I don't…"
"Well, I do! Look, I'll pay you for it. Stilt, where I'm going they pay for everything. Pussy, cars, new jocks… everything. How's about it? Twenty bucks for a blow-job. Sound all right to you?"
Frieda shook her head, held lightly to her Bible, remembered that spiritual telegram: HAPPINESS ELSEWHERE.
Was this happiness elsewhere?
A Lincoln Continental that converted into a harem on four wheels at the push of a button?
Earning twenty dollars for blowing a stranger's prick? Well, at least his cock looked clean.
"Well, come on! I'm offering you twenty bucks to blow me and a free ride to L.A. You taking it or not?"
"Well – yeah, I guess so."
"Well, let's not get too cock-hungry. Shit, you're about as eager to suck my prick as a whore with chapped lips."
Frieda nodded. Ran her tongue aver her lips. They weren't chapped.
"Jesus! You gotta pretty long tongue. Bet you been sucking cocks all your life. Well, come on, get your head down on my prick and I'll start her up, and we'll make it to L.A. before it starts to rain."
Frieda put her head down. His prick looked so huge. It just didn't seem natural for God to create mouths to be so small for something so huge. And if He had wanted girls' mouths to suck cocks, why didn't He give them a bigger set of lips? Either that or make smaller pricks.
"Christ, just start sucking on it! It ain't gonna kill you."
Frieda wanted to die. Yet, she wanted to go to L.A. And if she sucked hit cock, maybe that would be enough for him. Maybe he wouldn't want to fuck her virgin pussy if she drained all that stuff from his system.
She went down on him.
Arnold thrust up at her, thrusting his cock deep into her throat on the first jab. Of course, it helped that his huge hand was on the back of her head, shoving down while his hips were thrusting up.
"Goooddddaaaammmnnnn! It's been two days since… the last blow-job! Oh, Christ! Baby! Suck it! Suck it like you're starved for cock!"
Frieda's face turned blue. Her throat hurt. Her stomach turned over. Her eyes bulged. Oh, God! She was gonna heave! She was gagging to death on a huge foot-long cock!
Frieda said: "Mmmmmmmm!"
Which was a funny way of saying: "Air! I need air!"
But Arnold Higgins knew what Frieda needed. Shit, he knew about chicks like this. Tried to act like poor white trash, pretended to be drifters instead of rich girls running away from home so they could go out and blow cocks without Daddy knowing about what they were doing.
Yeah, Frieda looked like the typical, outwardly normal, rich girl who posed as a vagrant, a hippy girl, as a love child so she could feel she was a renegade, a maverick from society.
Fucking stupid cunts.
But all Frieda cared about was air. Oxygen for her lung, for her lung. Air. that precious commodity that everyday people take for panted. Then the hand on her head was puffing her up by the hair, and air, precious air, was sucked into her lungs around the huge cock that was in her mouth.
"Mmmgggffff! Oh God! Thank you! I sure needed – mmmgggffff!"
See! Arnold knew it! Just knew that this kid probably had some rich old man who probably made money hand over fist in cotton, or oil, or silver, or bonds, or encyclopedias.
He knew it because she had said thanks for sucking his cock. Thanks to him for offering her a ride on his cock and to L.A.
Arnold brought her head back up, felt air-conditioned coolness all around his cock as she sucked in precious air.
Jesus! What a cock-sucking rich bitch! Shit, she loved sucking pricks! Arnold could tell the girls who dug sucking his prick – because they all acted like this one, thankful, always saying mmmmggggfffff!
He shoved her down on his prick again, brought her back up again.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.
"Aaaaiiiieeee! Goddamn cock-sucking mouth! Oh God, go down on me!"
Arnold shoved her head all the way down, felt her nose rubbing against his crotch hair, felt her chin against his balls, felt her screaming mouth all over his throbbing cock.
"Mmmggggfff!"
Arnold was ready to come. Because it had been two days since the last rich bitch had sucked his prick. Some little whore tramp out of Albuquerque who said she was running away because she was four months pregnant and didn't know which boy in Dudish County was the father.
Betsy… Betsy, or Hobo, or something like that.
Arnold came. Very hot gushes of pent-up sperm shot out of his prick in huge spurts.
"Mmmmmmmmmggggggfffff! Mmmmggggffff!"
God, it was the first time Frieda had tasted a man's cum. It was bland, like Mama Matthews' pancake batter. But it wasn't as hard as those doorstop griddle cakes. This stuff was churned up, frothy and bubbly, and it was icky enough to make her retch because it felt like a bland snail crawling down her throat.
"aaarrrggghhhh! Suck it, rich bitch! Suck my fuckin' cream!"
Arnold looked down. Saw a huge pool of icky stuff on his lap. Christ! He didn't know he had so much cunt in his life.
Wait a minute!
Oh, fuck!
Oh, shit!
That was cum! That was… yes!
And that was how Arnold had come to the startling discovery that this vagrant, rich bitch was not a vagrant, nor was she rich, nor was she a bitch. Because only rich bitches and plain old horny girls know how to suck a cock without gagging and retching and heaving stuff.
Arnold was stunned.
Frieda was sick. To her stomach.
Arnold was taken aback, then he was just plain taken by this little fluff of femininity that he had just picked up outside of Prescott, Arizona, thinking that she was just another hot-cunt, hotter-mouth chick looking for cock and a ride to L.A. In that order.
"Hey, you really don't know how to suck cocks, do you?"
Frieda gasped, cleaned her lips with the hem of her gingham. "I-I… never done something like that before." Arnold was very surprised. "How old are you?"
"Eighteen."
"Whew! For a while there I thought you were gonna say nineteen."
"Why? What difference would that have made?"
"Well, if you were only eighteen, then I could understand why you threw up while sucking my cock. But being as you're eighteen… wow! And you say you never sucked a cock before! Wow!"
Arnold was so surprised at Frieda being eighteen and never having sucked cock that he asked her what else she had never done. Turned out to be quite a bit. Like she had never been fucked before.
Or ridden in an air-conditioned car. Or seen the ocean, or a big city, or happiness.
"Christ, kid. You make me feel awful. Shit, I wish. Hey, wait a minute! There is a way I can help you, kid. You ever thought about going to school?"
"I been to school. Went to Sherman High School – No, no! I mean like college."
"College? Who goes to college?"
"Oh, shit. Ya gotta lot to learn, kid. And I'm gonna see that ya learn it. Shit, they'd have to let you into my school. 'Cause if they don't let you enroll, they're gonna be without their star defensive linebacker. Yes sir, kid! You're going to college!"
So, Frieda went to college.
Shit, where else could she go?
And she was forever thankful to Arnold Higgins, the star middle linebacker for St. Judas Aquinas.
She learned a lot at St. Judas Aquinas. She learned Latin. She learned French. She learned to orient herself to a campus that was eighty square acres and teeming with rich bitch girls who looked for cock between classes.
She learned to cut mid-term exams by telling her professors, with tears running down her cheeks, that her father had just died and she just wasn't up to naming the zillions of bones in a human skeleton for her anatomy class.
She learned to live in the dorms, and eat dorm food, and watch dorm girls eat each other because they were so hungry for meat because the dorm cafeteria only sewed something that all the dorm kids called mystery meat. Which was usually left-over bread pudding that had been allowed to harden for three weeks before the dorm cooks could call it Spencer steak, or Swiss cut, or Salisbury meatloaf.
She learned that a square root was not the beginnings of a corn stalk that could grow oblong corn kernels.
She learned to grammatically split infinitives.
She learned that a man could speak with pebbles in his mouth and talk to the ocean at high noon.
She learned that it was improper grammar to use a preposition to end a sentence with.
Yeah, Frieda learned a lot about life, and a lot about English in particular. Which was why she had married Arnold Higgins, because he showed her so much of life. And which was why she was an English teacher at Thomas Dewey High School, teaching English as a foreign language to kids who were more interested in football as taught by one Arnold Higgins.