Howard eased his thick, hard cock in the tight, slick cunt of the barmaid at the Iron Door, with a sigh that rumbled up from his guts. It was a hot, clasping cunt, just as one might expect to find between the shapely legs of the hot-eyed blonde who had leered at him so lasciviously each time she had brought him another pitcher of beer the night before. Sandals on her feet, ragged jeans on her legs and her hot little butt, and hardly a blouse at all to cover the perky pair of tits on her chest – he could see all of her clearly, as long as he kept his eyes closed. He drew back his gristly hard cock and shoved it into the cunningly cute barmaid again, expecting to hear her say, "Oh, Howard, I knew you'd be wonderful in bed, but I never expected this! Don't ever stop fucking me! Howard, give me everything you've got, forever!"
Beneath him, his bride, Dottie, gasped, "Oh, Howard! What a way to start the day! But give me some room to breathe!"
They were having a morning fuck in the bed that had once belonged to his sister, Jayne, and which Howard and Dottie now owned. They were still in Carlton, Oregon, raising the roses that had once made a living for Jayne. Jayne was back in New Jersey, helping Marge and the kids with the carnations. Jayne still owned half her rose farm. Howard owned the other half, which he'd bought with his half of the divorce settlement money. The divorce had come quickly, thanks to some friends of Dottie's in Tijuana, the same friends who'd arranged for Howard's marriage to Dottie. The settlement had been arranged by the attorney in New Jersey. It was a split down the middle complete and final, although Dottie still thought there was more money on the way. She would probably scream like a banshee when she found out there was no more loot on the way. Let her scream, that was Howard's philosophy. She had it pretty damned good, learning about the flower business and letting little Trixie take care of the Iron Door, with him helping out all he could. It wasn't a bad deal for Howard, either.
In Howard's imagination, Trixie said, "Yeah, gimme all you got! Nobody ever made me cum this hard before!"
Very real, Dottie exclaimed, "Howard, darling, I can't breathe!"
"Then you do the work for a change," said Howard, and rolled them both over, till Dottie was in the woman superior position.
Now he could lie back and let it happen. He deserved that. What the hell, he'd worked for thirty years, and now it was time someone else did the work. Now he could dream, and he did. He dreamed about Trixie with the compact little body and the hard little tits. She could give him a workout in bed like no one else he'd ever known. Her little ass would be flying in all directions over his loins, quite unlike the lumbering giants of Dottie's buttocks, slowly grinding it out on his cock. Trixie's splendid little tits would be a pink blur before his eyes, quite unlike the cumbersome swaying of Dottie's big milk bags, all harnessed up in the big twin hammock of a brassiere. And Trixie would be naked when they slept together, not half covered up in the brassiere and wrapper Dottie had lately taken to wearing at night. He'd go to work on Trixie again that night. He'd call her the minute Dottie left the house to do the shopping and take care of the bookkeeping at the Iron Door. Trixie didn't quite have enough smarts to handle books. And that night, while Dottie stayed home and looked at TV, he'd again go to the Iron Door on the excuse of helping Trixie close up, and this time he was sure he'd get in her ragged jeans. He decided he'd fuck her on the pool table and, quite vividly seeing them screwing their brains out there, he came in the cunt of his newlywed wife.
"You done?" Dottie asked, before he was completely finished.
"Hey, bring me a cold can of beer on your way back from the can, will you?" said Howard, massaging his growing paunch.
"Glad to, baby-doll. You lie back and take a little snooze. I'll be right with you."
Dottie got up out of bed and tottered toward the hall door, drawing her nightgown about her as she went. Once in the hall, she hurried on to the kitchen, where she picked up the phone and rapidly dialed a number.
"Hi, angel-buns," said Dottie into the phone. "Have a good night's sleep?"
Trixie's voice was wonderfully petulant as she said, "Mornin', Big Momma. I slept just rotten. But we had a good night. Seventy-eight fifty on beer, thirty-two and a quarter on the pool table, fifteen seventy-five on the pinball, and eighteen fifty on snacks. I lost track of the juke box money, 'cause your old man kept workin' the free play button back behind it. You should never of showed him where it is. I s'pose he'll be here again tonight."
"I'm afraid so. But it won't be long now. That money of his ought to come in any day."
"That's what you told me last week. Oh, I almost forgot. The new owner was in. He's so hot to take over the place he was just about peein' in his pants."
"He's not the new owner till I sign the papers. Did you stall him okay?"
"I just told him I didn't know nothin' from nothin'. I told him I thought you'd be in about noon today, if you got back from your fishing trip."
"You're the smartest dumb blonde in the world. I'll be there at nine. Don't get out of bed till I get there."
"Dottie, I can't stay in bed. They left this place in a terrible mess last night."
"You stay right where you are! I can clean it up quicker than you can. I won't have you lifting a finger to clean up after a bunch of drunken bums."
"Yes, Big Momma. Whatever you say. But I'm already lifting a finger. Ooo. It's all wet and stinky. Now I'm putting it back down. Mmm. Is it okay if your little angel-buns gets up and takes a shower?"
"I told you, stay right where you are! I'll be there at eight-thirty. I'll be there just as soon as I take care of a couple things here. Miss me, baby. Eat your heart out for me, and keep that finger moving real slow till I get there."
Dottie hung up the phone and leaned against the kitchen wall, breathing fast, rubbing her aching cunt. She went on into the den bathroom, stepping over the dog who lay at its threshold.
"I've got to go see Trixie. You're gonna love her. And you're gonna love living in San Francisco, too, when the three of us move down there. It won't be long. Another week. Just till Fatso's money comes through. Yes, we're going to have such a good life from now on. And once she gets used to you, Trixie and you will get along just fine."