"Can you feature that old bastard telling me that, after what he had done?" Tuesday asked Freda. "He was probably the guy who started my craziness.
"Well, it could be worse," Freda said philosophically. "Hell, you're eating."
"That's right," Tuesday said, gingerly feeling the bites in her cunt area.
"I'm eating just about anybody who comes along, and they're eating me… literally. Jesus, I wish I was young again and could just fuck. When you get old, people think you got no feeling, no pride. Hell, I don't like being the trick artist in a whore house. I get all the fucked-up perverts who want to hurt me some way to get their kicks. I don't mind fucking, and okay, I'll suck too. But this taking door knobs and having some guy want to put his big toe up my asshole. Goddamn, there's just no end to the kooks."
"What about the guy I sent you last night?"
"Yeah," Tuesday said, raising up. "Now, there's what I'm talking about. This silly bastard wants to
get under the covers and have me fart so he could smell it. That's how he gets his."
Freda laughed and rolled on the bed. "Goddamn, that's funny. How in the name of God do you fart on cue?"
Tuesday smiled ruefully. "You'd be surprised what you can do when you get the price up to a hundred. I got right over his face and strained like hell. I figured it would be a little fart if it came at all, and I wanted him to smell a hundred dollars worth if I made it."
"Did you make it?"
"Well I strained like hell and couldn't fart to save my life."
"Aw, that's too bad!"
"I did manage to shit in his face!"
Freda looked to see if Tuesday was serious. When it was obvious the truth was being told, Freda howled in wild laughter again. "Did he pay off?"
"Hell yeah! He only thought he wanted somebody to fart under the coven. When that turd hit him right between the eyes, his cock leaped up and I'll swear to you, he shot come up past my tits. Now, he'll never ask anybody else to fart under the covers. He'll pay a hundred to have you shit in his face. It's easier, believe me, but I'll be damned if it ain't a hell of a feeling to know the only affection you can create is with your asshole."
"Oh, you're just feeling bad tonight," Freda said. "It'll look brighter in the morning. You know, I never realized you were so bitter about this kind of business. Why the hell didn't you
marry some guy and settle down on the straight side?"
"Shit, I tried that. After old Whitley got through with me, I kept my pants on pretty well… oh, I'd fuck now and then when I needed it, but not like most of the other girls. Hell, I was a damn virgin compared to all the rest in high school. But I always wanted to fuck after Bobo put that thing in me the first time. So, when I was nineteen, and just out of high school, I decided the best thing I could do was marry the first decent guy that asked me. His name was Lance Norris."
Lance Norris was not handsome; he was pretty in a clean, wholesome sort of way. He had flashing blue eyes and a curly shock of blond curls.
Lance had clawed his way up out of south Georgia, and when Tuesday met him, he was collecting an insurance debit in Norfolk, Virginia.
She first noticed him at a Saturday night dance. He was some kind of good looking. And it was Tuesday who maneuvered to meet him. Tuesday was crafty enough to lure him along without allowing him to make any passes. He kept his hands doff her tits and didn't try to sneak up her dress to make manual contact with her pussy.
Lance was a hard worker, dedicated to his job. This virtue of accepting work, plus his rigid adherence to the stern Baptist code, doomed him to marriage just as quickly as Tuesday could maneuver him into asking her.
It took about six weeks, and she hesitated just ten seconds before she gave him a resounding "Yes" and sealed the bargain with a soul kiss which scared the living shit out of him.
Tuesday hoped she had not been too brazen. But Lance smiled his brightest; and encircled her waist with a protective arm. God, it was certainly nice to be in love.
Love and marriage, however, are generally mutually exclusive, and Tuesday began to get the little shocks on their first honeymoon night.
Tuesday could hardly wait to see him naked. She was curious about the size and talent of his cock. She was ready, but hardly ready for Lance's abrupt change when the door swung shut.
"I want you to undress me," he said, but there was brittle hardness in his voice. "I'd like for you to tear my clothes to shreds!" His voice was rising and his eyes glinting. "Rip 'em off! Let me hear 'em tear!"
Tuesday tried to laugh, but the sound died in her throat. Hell, the guy was definitely not kidding. He wanted his clothes torn off. So, okay! Everybody has his own kick.
Tuesday grabbed his shirt and jerked downward as hard as she could. The buttons snapped off, and she was pleased to feel the cloth rip.
Lance laughed, delightedly, and Tuesday saw a trace of cock rising inside his pants.
She seized his pants after unzipping the fly, and jerked as hard as she could but it was tough to tear them. Lance, however, squirmed about and let them fall about his ankles.
"Hurry," he commanded. "Tear off my shorts!" Tuesday managed to rip away the clothes with one sweep, and there was his cock! Jesus, she almost fainted and then she thought she might throw up. It was a massive hunk of manmeat, maybe a sturdy eight inches. It was also considerably heavier in circumference. than the prick. It had been circumcised, and the bulbous head was manifestly larger than the shaft. But these were normal characteristics of any human cock. Beyond that, Lance was horribly mutilated.
Running from the base of the shaft and out to the back of the head was a livid, purple scar at least a quarter of an inch wide. There were several deep incisive scars about the shaft, and the head was battered out of its smooth shape and it looked like a cauliflower ear. There was scar tissue growing over the head, and the whole thing was swollen so much out of proportion that at first glance, Tuesday was afraid there was no hole in the end.
Lance's balls were the swinging kind, and the sac was a purple-black as though it had sustained serious bruises. His left ball was swollen to at least twice the size of an ordinary testicle, and the right one looked atrophied. It was no larger than a good-sized pea. On his lower stomach and upper thighs, as well as on his cock, there were a number of fresh scratches and Tuesday felt certain some of the wounds had been cause by teeth.
"Great God!" she exclaimed. "What's the matter with it?"
"Nothing, It's just fine. Now, come on and get
down on it. I want to see some blood! Listen," he said, grabbing her by the hair, "get down on my cock and eat it. I said eat it! Don't suck it! I hate to have my cock sucked. I want you to bite it. Goddamn, hurry, make it bleed!"
"Jesus Christ, Lance, if I were to bite into a cock as hard as yours, you'd bleed to death."
"Aaaahh!" he said. "You do know something about sucking cocks. Don't bite into the shaft or very deep into the head. Pull some of the loose skin up in your mouth and bite that. Scrape your teeth over the head. That will make it bleed. Bleed! Do you hear me? God! Get down on my cock and make it bleed!"
He was almost screaming as he pushed her toward his crotch and fell back on the bed.
Tuesday would have been delighted to give him a trip around the world. Lance was a magnificent man. Only his battered cock was less than perfect. She was thoroughly frightened by what he had said.
"Hurry and bite it," he said, shivering and twitching in expectation. "I'm so hot, and I can't really get myself worked up until I see the blood! Oooooh! That's it! Bite my cock. Oh, Jesus, bite it! Bite it off! Go ahead… oh, look at the blood. Look at the blood! It's beautiful…beautiful!"
Tuesday was aware of the bitter taste in her mouth, and she knew it was blood from his dick. She had chewed a piece out of the shaft, and even though she had always been a come-swallower, never spitting out the precious semen juice when it
washed into her mouth, she was reluctant to swallow the blood. Lance saved her from making any sacrifice in this direction.
"Now, now!" he screamed. "Lick the blood over my balls. That's the way. Wash my balls in blood. Oh, Jesus, this is good! Rake your teeth over the head. We gotta have more blood! More blood! Blood out of the head is hotter, than blood out of the stem. Oh! Oh! Ooooh! Goddamn. Great!"
Tuesday was not turned on at all. She had been excited about his body, and she had managed to work up a little juice inside her pussy, but the dick-biting and blood-letting doused her sexual fire.
Lance was going into convulsions on the bed. He bucked and jumped, and cried, and real tears flowed down his cheeks as his cock jumped and throbbed in Tuesday's mouth. She tried not to suck it, but it was hard not to. Lance did not seem to notice her lapses. All he did was call for more blood.
"Okay! Okay! Now get ready 'cause I'm fixing to come," he shouted. "Hey, hang a fingernail in my asshole. Hurry! Hurry! Now, ram it in my asshole, and when I scream and start to come, jerk the edge of your fingernail hard down on the mouth of my ass. I want it to bleed! Hear me! It ain't any good coming if your asshole don't bleed too!"
Automatically, as though she were a zombie, Tuesday rammed her finger up Lance's asshole. He went out of his mind. He screamed a long, piercing wail, and jerked about so violently that Tuesday
cut a couple of new bleeding gashes on his cock. And she knew he was about to blow his rocks. His prick was so hard, and thumping with every beat of his excited heart.
"Okay!" he yelled.. "Tear my asshole out! Tear it now!"
Tuesday jerked her sharp fingernail against the side of his rectum, and she felt the spurt of hot blood squirt out over her hand and wrist. Then, mixed in with the blood drooling from his dick, Tuesday tasted the unmistakable salt of his come. In this respect, at least, he was like everyone else. He did shoot off, and it did taste okay. Tuesday swallowed the come, blood and all, and she was immediately sorry and afraid.
"You swallowed it!" he roared. "Goddamn it, don't you ever do that again! You lick that stuff up my asshole. That's what come is for. I always get my come up my asshole. It keeps me looking young. Goddamn you bitch! Wasting my come down your miserable throat!"
Long through the night, Tuesday lay awake and cried silent, bitter tears while Lance slept beautifully. He was such a pretty sight lying there in his blond innocence. Goddamn! The miserable perverted son of a bitch! Tuesday cursed her luck.
Try as she might, it seemed the whole world was stacked against her when she wanted to make a decent life for herself. Now, mated to Lance was like being caged with a wild animal. Well, she would try it for a while, but in her heart, Tuesday knew that Lance was a loser, and would sooner or later have to go.
All the men in the world.., nice, ordinary guys with swinging pricks who would appreciate a wife who would fuck with enthusiasm, and she got Lance! Ugh! It was sickening, and there was nobody she could talk to. She had not been much for confiding in anyone since her episode in the principal's office. Now, more than ever before, Tuesday felt alone, and she cried!