"Well, damn, Freda said. "It looks to me like you two had a hell of a thing going. Jesus Christ! Ten grand for one night. Hell, it didn't take…what…half an hour?"
"Oh no!" Tuesday said, scratching her chewed up pussy. "I guess those assholes were there for three, maybe four hours. I've just given you the high spots of how it went. My tits were sore for a week. Titties just aren't made for feet."
"Yeah, but why the hell did you give it up? Hell, you won't make that much money in six months now."
"Oh yes, I will," Tuesday said wryly. "That was the problem. After we got through with it, and everybody had his clothes on again, Manny said he would go out to the car with the guys where they would pay off. Then he'd come back, and we would split."
"So?"
"Well, the son of a bitch never came back."
"But hell," Freda said. "You got the three grand from Hiroto. Why did you let Manny ruin your
deal? Hell, you didn't need him. Shit, you could do it by yourself. You still could."
"Naw," Tuesday said. "Like Manny said, everything needs management. Look at us here. If we didn't have some sort of madam to greet the marks at the front door, what kind of whorehouse would this be? And I'm also too, soft-hearted."
"What do you mean, soft-hearted?"
"Well, let some bastard give me a sad story, and I'll let him have some pussy just because I feel sorry for him. Then I don't have the guts to push him for the money. That's the reason I got to have outside management."
Freda sneered. "Huh! I wouldn't fuck my brother without the dough in advance."
"Let me give you one of my sadder stones as an example of why I'm such a bust at being a legitimate whore. I think it was Joplin or maybe St. Jo, Missouri… somewhere out there. II blow into town about ten o'clock at night, and I'm stuck in the bus station. Hell, I got money, but this place is like nowhere. I'm looking for a cab and…
There was a heavy and oppressive atmosphere in the Joplin bus station. Tuesday, lugging her heavy suitcase, wrinkled her nose in distaste. The station smelled of unwashed bodies and stale tobacco smoke. Whew! It had been a weary trip from nowhere to Joplin, and Tuesday was bone-tired. It was several months after Manny had walked out and disappeared, and she had been at loose ends.
She set the suitcase down. It was cold outside as she waited for a taxi. She sat down on the baggage, and began to search her pocketbook for a cigarette.
Ruefully, she contemplated her financial condition: Twelve dollars and sixty-seven cents. Tuesday was certainly no business manager.
Tuesday guessed she would get a room in a cheap hotel and make some sort of whore arrangement with the bell captain. If there is a sorry arrangement in whoring, it is being dependent on the customers which a bellman can shoo into your room.
While Tuesday was wondering what the name of a proper hotel would be, she caught sight of a young, virile man ambling across the station toward her.
The guy was, Tuesday reckoned, about nineteen, with auburn hair grown long down on his neck, and combed carelessly across his forehead. It was well styled. His shirt was open almost to his navel. Tuesday was certain the guy had magnificent nipples, probably dark brown, and very smooth.
Mound the middle, he was as slender as a girl, but Tuesday could almost feel the firmness of his stomach. In her mind's eye, Tuesday imagined how sleek his midsection would be, and it inflamed her cunt. After all, she had not had a decent fuck in a long time. Not one that turned her on. Most of the johns to whom she sold a piece of pussy were so terribly inept, or so unbelievably nervous or so suddenly drunk, that except for a few times when she finger-fucked herself in sheer desperation, Tuesday had not had her rocks off in months.
Guys who pay for pussy seldom ever know anything about fucking. Ah! But this guy, even if he was a virgin and knew nothing… he was created to be a sex wonder.
Tuesday marveled at his hips. How graceful they were, and how smoothly contoured were his buttocks. She licked her lips and wondered if the flesh on his ass, was as creamy as that which showed down the open front of his shirt.
Tuesday was drawn to the outline of a sizeable cock which was clearly discernible against his right leg. The clot of his jeans was stretched so tightly over it that Tuesday could see the definition of the head, and all of the shaft down to the bottom.
Did he have a hard-on? Surely not! He was out in public and there was no reason on earth he should be stimulated. Yet, that cock was at least… well, it had to be a good seven inches. Now, seven-inch cocks are a rarity at best, and Tuesday just did not believe There could be one that long and that big, around, with that firm a head on it, and still be soft.
No, by Christ, the guy had a hard-on. For what reason, Tuesday had no idea, but it was for certain:
His cock was up, and ready… for what?
Tuesday didn't know, but from the itching inside her drawers, she knew where she wished it was being shoved at that very moment. With each unhurried step the guy took, his cock would work its way up and down his pants. Tuesday knew that the rough texture of his pants would bear down through whatever kind of underwear he might be wearing, and the way his tool was being rubbed, he
would have to be as hot as a two-dollar pistol.
She gazed at his crotch where the caged monster WSS lunging upward in an effort to escape. Jesus, would he turn it loose? Tuesday hoped she could catch his eye while appearing not to be flying to do so. Her problems, however, were easily solved.
He walked straight up to her, and since she was sitting on her suitcase, his cock was right in her face. It was all she could do to keep from lurching out and taking his asscheeks into her hands, plunging her mouth over his cock. Was it her imagination, or did she actually see it throb through his pants?
"Hello," he said, thrusting his hands into his hip pockets, thus tightening his already taut pants. "You a stranger here?"
"Yes… yes, I am," Tuesday said, casting her glance down. She hoped that she had not been too obvious looking at his prick.
"Me too," he said. "And I'll tell you something else. I ain't got a dime. And worse, I'm hungry. You look like a person who might listen to a sad story and maybe help a fellow out with a little something to eat."
Tuesday thought: Goddamn, I'll eat you! "Oh, I'm sorry you're broke," she said. "I'm not exactly the United States Treasury myself. But if you can go for a cup of coffee and maybe a stack of pancakes, I guess I can wring for tat. I know this isn't breakfast time, but…"
"Lady, I've been so seldom, I don't figure what meal it is. I just take whatever comes along."
Tuesday got up off the suitcase, and was
disconcerted to feel a dampness between her legs. Goddamnit! Her cunt was juicing from just talking with a fuzzy-faced guy, and she had swung on some of the biggest and most experienced cocks in the country.
"You got any place to sleep?" she asked.
"Naw, not really," he said, reaching down to pick up his bag. "I thought I'd walk around; maybe somebody would pick me up and take me home."
"Somebody?"
"Yeah… well, I hate to say it, but a guy can always, well, get another guy in a bus-station wash room. I guess that shocks you, but when you're hungry and ain't got nothing, you'll do anything you have to."
"No," Tuesday said as they walked out of the station and toward an all-night beanery across the street, "I'm not shocked. I guess I've done a few things when I had to myself."
He smiled.
"You don't look like somebody on the bum," she said.
"Well, I'm not really a bum," he said. "I just left home a few weeks ago. Me and my old man just don't get along, and I've been running around trying to find someplace to light. Maybe I'll find it here."
"Say, why don't we both get something to eat, and then I'll rent a room somewhere and we can get some rest together?"
He blinked as they sat down. "You mean sleep together in the same bed?"
"Why not?" Tuesday challenged.
"Nothing! We gonna do anything besides sleep?"
"Why not?"
"Okay! You know, I've been just aching for a girl for the past couple of days, and I never dreamed I'd get one as pretty as you are. Golly, this is my lucky day!"
Tuesday felt a hot ooze of cooze drooling out of her snatch. Jesus, after taking on all the sickies and finks she had been rolling around with, the idea of getting a hot cock from a guy who really had appeal was a heady potion. Whew! Tuesday was suddenly not hungry.
She wanted this guy. She wanted him in bed, naked, on cool sheets. She wanted to feel the hardness of his body pressed against her. Mostly, she wanted to feel that beautiful hard cock slip between her legs and work itself up into her snatch hole.
She could feel the nipples on her titties growing firm and hard inside her bra. "Eat up, and let's get out of here," she said hoarsely. "What's your name, anyhow?"
"Foxy," he replied. "Foxy Fowler. Really, it isn't Foxy, but everybody calls me that. I used to cheat so much in school that they all thought I was kinda foxy Shit!"
Under the table, she could feel his knee pressing against hers, and she let her legs drift easily apart so that he could shove his between them. Goddamn, she was getting so hot, she was about to leap over the table after him.
Foxy ate the cakes and coffee. Tuesday contented herself with a glass of milk and a few
crackers. Right at that moment, she was not in a mood to eat anything except Foxy's cock. This, she firmly believed, would be the most succulent morsel she ever worked down her throat.
Foxy, who had distinguished himself in his Arkansas hometown not only as the most adroit cheater in high school, but also as the town's most accomplished masturbator and pussy-licker, had whipped his cock off two and three times a day during his wandering odyssey away from home.
He had jacked off in phone booths late at night, in public toilets in the daytime, and even soaked his pants with his own come by tearing out the pockets in his jeans to reach down to the hot meat of his prick as he rode along on the bus.
His balls were always hot, and the more he played with his cock, the more it demanded attention. But even his best ministrations grew tiresome after a while. He liked to have a girl get after his prick, and when he saw Tuesday in the bus station, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and released his erected cock for her to see. Her response had been more than he could have hoped for.
They strolled up the street until they came to a shabby gentile boarding house with a "For Rent" sign out front.
Tuesday negotiated for the room, saying she wanted it for a couple of days while she looked around. The old gal who ran the house wasn't dumb; she recognized a hooker when she saw one. She wrongly figured that Foxy was Tuesday's pimp. She also made a mental note to see if she
could give him a piece of her own shriveled-up pussy. Damn, he sure was a handsome guy!
Up in their room, Tuesday turned to Foxy, and he encircled her with a great hug which poked his cock right into the pocket between her legs. She could feel its hardness as he rubbed it against her. Their first kiss was a long and searching exchange of tongues, their mouths melting together as their bodies writhed and twisted in a heated contact. Finally, they broke, and Tuesday's tongue sought his ear as he dropped his mouth to the lower portion of her neck and began to slobber over her there.
"Oh God," she gasped. "Let's get out of these clothes and make love!"
Foxy sat down on the edge of a battered footstool. He stripped off his shoes and socks, and was on his feet to unfasten his pants when he noted that Tuesday was already naked and waiting for him.
When they were both naked, they paused to admire each other. Tuesday's body, not withstanding all the perverted assaults which it had undergone, was still as attractive as it had been the first time she was licked in the cunt in that girls' camp. Her titties were firm. Her nipples were dark and ripe, and because of her heated affinity for Foxy, they felt heavy.
Foxy's cock was hard and swollen. He had made himself come manually so many times in the preceding forty eight hours that he had irritated the head of his tool, making it larger than it was in ordinary circumstances.
Their bellies were both flat and firm, and as they moved together, her titties were pressed hard against him and their navels touched.
When Foxy's cock jabbed into Tuesday's thigh, she felt a weakness sweep through her. Now, what in God's name would cause that? She was used to fucking. Taking one cock or a dozen cocks in any hole on her body was nothing new; it was not even unusual. Yet, the mere touch of the wet end of Foxy's cock sent a shiver of anticipation through her entire system. Goddamn, fucking would be great fun if it could always be with Foxy!
His cock was dripping. However, as soon as he was in contact with Tuesday's body, the eye of his cock began to weep in increasing amounts.
He wriggled his hips about. It made his cock slip in between her legs, and she clamped her thighs together tightly against his hot prick. The head was stopped about an inch and a half from the mouth of her -pussy, and he could feel the fickle of her twat hairs sweeping gently over his most sensitive parts.
She held his cock between her thighs to keep it out of her cunt until they could wrestle themselves down on the bed.
When they hit the bed, their mouths again melted together, and Tuesday parted her legs to open her cunt to Foxy's eager, searching prick. He had no opportunity to inspect her pussy visually. As a rule, Foxy liked to eat a pussy and have a girl jerk him off, or in extreme cases, he would beat his own meat while chewing on a cunt.
Tuesday, however, gave him no chance. He was
so uncontrollably hot when her legs parted that he made an instinctive thrust forward, and her pussy lips closed about the throbbing head of the cock. Once the head was trapped in the mouth of her cunt, her cunt drew him inward.
They clasped their arms about each other, and pulled their bodies closely together. He loved to feel those hard nipples bared and boring into his chest.
They rolled about on the bed, kissing and feeling so good. His tool was buried to the hilt in the warm folds of her velvet pussy. But except for the friction created by the way they rolled about, there was no real fucking. But it felt good. Foxy's cock was so hot that a breeze flowing over it might have sent his come flying.
Tuesday rolled over on her back, and spread her legs wide apart. This opened her cunt to its fullest, and Foxy's balls, already up tight against his body, all but fell into the hole along with his cock. Her clit was so taut that he could feel it bearing down on the top of his prick.
In a swift motion, Tuesday locked her legs behind his back, and curled her arms around his shoulders. "Now, for God's sake, FUCK!"
Huffing and puffing, Foxy dug for a toehold in the bed. She was jerking beneath him, and he was pouring his cock into the dark heat of her womb. Deeper dug the head with every plunge. His heavy-handed meat beating had whetted his cock's appetite for a pussy bath, and he resolved that, on the brink of his orgasm, jacking off would always be a secondary pleasure if he could fuck Tuesday
regularly.
Their bodies were slipping and sliding; her titties were so hot! Her asshole was winking and opening and slamming shut with rapid tire. Tuesday did not care.
When she came, her asshole went "Woosh!" and the lips and interior walls of her cunt quivered and convulsively chewed upon his vomiting cock. He came as though he had not emptied his balls for weeks. Through his cock spurted the hot jizm into her womb, and she rose heavily on her heels and shoulders to meet the downward thrust of his meat. Finally, she collapsed on the bed, and he fell on top of her, his cock deeply buried into her box. There it lay and drooled and soaked in a combination of its own and Tuesday's juices.
That night, and for many weeks, months, and even years afterward, Tuesday thought Foxy had the finest body and the hardest, most satisfying cock on earth.
When she woke up the next morning, Foxy was gone, and so was the remainder of Tuesday's twelve dollars, and all of her clothes.