Even Whores Need Love

“TWO HUNDRED MORE,” Lee kept telling herself as the big
fat erection rammed in and out of her. “Just two hundred more.”

Moments later, she inadvertently put her hands on the big fat man’s
back. And instantly regretted it. And grimaced. For her hands were as
soggy as if she had put them in a puddle. And she quickly retracted
them.

“Yeah, fuck me!” she whispered into his ears, trying to
make it sound believable. “It’s so fucking good!”

He well knew that it was a lie, but it didn’t matter. To him,
she was nothing more than a doll, a toy—a plaything. And, as he
pawed her and groped her small breasts, he continued to slam his
flesh into hers while grunting like an animal.

“Come for me, baby, come!” she cried, slapping his big
wet butt with her fists, trying to make the whole thing end as soon
as possible.

So she could get that last two hundred dollars.

But he wasn’t ready to oblige. He was nowhere near ready. For
he had paid extra to get her for the whole night, and he was going to
get the whole night.

She had made a calculated gamble with him. She bet that this ugly
middle-aged turd could never last close to the whole evening, even
with all the advancements in medical science. She bet that it was
only bravado when he said he’d “Fuck her all night long.”

But it wasn’t.

And as the hours passed, and he continued to plow himself inside her,
she realized that she had made a mistake. A big one. For she knew
that she probably could’ve pulled off two or three tricks
during the time she spent with him, and still had time for another.
Or maybe even two others.

But now . . .

Now time was running out on her.

“How about you finish now and I give you some money back,”
she whimpered, after he turned her over and started pounding her from
behind, with his sweaty hands around her throat. “Twenty
maybe?”

“No!” he screamed, wobbling up and down on top of her.

“Forty?”

“No!” he again screamed. “I don’t care about
the money! I want to fuck you all night! And I’m gonna!”

She sighed and tried to accept her fate, as difficult as it was.

Then, a short while later, he suddenly stopped moving. And breathing.

“Are . . . are you okay?” she asked, with
concern in her voice, wondering for a second if he were dead—knowing
that this could really screw her plans up for the night.

But, just as suddenly as he stopped moving, the fat man put his arms
around her body and turned her over again—this time with
himself, leaving her on top of him.

“Fuck me for a while,” he ordered.

“That wasn’t our deal,” she replied.

“What?”

“The deal was for you to fuck me all night—not for me to
fuck you.”

“Come on, I’m tired.”

“So am I.”

She then looked over at a the digital clock on the nightstand. And
saw that it was almost four.

“I tell you what,” she said, “I’ll give you
the fuck of your life right now. I’ll give you much more than
you deserve, much more than what you paid for. But you have to come
afterward, and let me out of here. I have to get out of here.”

“How long?” he asked.

“Five minutes,” she told him. “Ten at the most.”

“No! I want more!”

“Listen, you fat fuck—I’m offering you a bargain!
The bargain of your life. For the first time you’ll get
passion—real passion. I’ll fuck you like I mean it! You
can’t buy that!”

He thought about it for a moment and then murmured, “Do it!”

She smiled and laid her body on top of his, and grabbed his face. And
kissed him.

And, as she kissed him, she slowly ground her hips onto him, and
caressed his wet heaving breasts—breasts larger than hers.

“How does it feel?” she whispered into his mouth, as her
thrusts got faster and harder.

“Oh, it feels so good!”

“Better than fucking me?”

“Yes! Harder! Do it harder!”

She bit into his lower lip, and, amidst his cries, started pounding
herself on top of him.

A short while later, when his pain finally subsided, he took her butt
in his big fat hands and slammed her even harder on top of him.

Suddenly, one of the front legs of the bed collapsed, sending both of
them sliding forward, toward the floor.

But, if anything, she bounced on top of him even harder. And then
stuck her tongue down his throat. And clawed his chest with her long
red nails.

“Fucking come!” she ordered. “Now!”

And he did.

“Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!” he hollered, shaking all over, as
he exploded into his oversized condom. And, while practically
drowning in his own fluids, added, “Yeeeeeeeessss!”

Lee collapsed on top of him, making a slapping sound from all the
moisture. She felt disgusted and filthy, just as she felt after every
trick. And part of her wanted to die.

But then she remembered the two hundred.

“We’re cool, right?” she whispered to him.

“Right,” he whispered back. “That was the best.”

A moment later, he was asleep.

And a moment after that he was snoring.

Lee quickly jumped off the broken bed, and, with even more speed,
jumped into the shower; and, when she returned to the room, she
dressed and hurriedly applied her makeup in the mirror.

And for just a second glanced at herself. Her real self.

She was a pretty woman—short, petite—with dirty blonde
hair and dimples. And she was young, not quite twenty. But she could
tell that she was getting old fast. She could tell that time was
running out on her.

Which reminded her of the two hundred dollars she still needed to
make her rent. She was already way behind on it and her landlord had
threatened to evict her that very morning if it weren’t paid in
full.

And just the thought of this made her shiver. For her apartment was
her oasis—one of the few places where she could feel human and
forget who and what she was. She could lie in her comfy bed under the
covers and read some romance novel, and dream. Dream it was her.

Her impending doom made her turn to the fat man on the broken bed.

He was still sleeping and snoring.

And his pants were lying just a few steps from her.

She had never stolen from a john before, and knew that there could be
serious repercussions if they found out about it downstairs, but
these were desperate times. And so she rummaged through the man’s
cheap gray slacks and found his wallet.

But there was nothing inside. No money, no credit cards. There wasn’t
even a driver’s license.

Clearly, she realized, he planned the evening carefully, only keeping
on hand the exact amount he offered her, and nothing else. She didn’t
even know his name.

Lee sighed at this not-so-little misfortune, and dropped his things
onto the floor. And, after leaving the room, she took the elevator
down to the basement, where the hotel bar was located. A bar that was
open all night, every night of the year, including Christmas.

The hotel itself was the biggest in the city, with hundreds of rooms.
And, being that it was near both the train and bus stations—and
only a short drive from the airport, there was never any shortage of
guests.

And usually there was never any shortage of johns in the bar.

So, she hoped, crossing her fingers.

She hoped and entered the dimly lit room, and meekly smiled at the
bartender—a neat looking man in his sixties who had large
silver hair and a big silver mustache.

Lee had an arrangement with him and the other bartender that jointly
ran the place, where she paid for the opportunity to work her trade
there. An opportunity only two other women got; though many others
were waiting for the possibility.

And, in exchange for a monthly sum more than three times that of her
rent, she had free reign there. She didn’t have to hang out on
the streets, or deal with pimps or cops or street psychos. Which gave
her a relative degree of safety, especially as her clients were all
registered hotel guests, and hence unlikely to do something
bad—something that could easily be traced back to them.

Slowly, Lee strode toward the bartender; and he nodded at her, and
then looked out at the emptiness in all directions. And shrugged.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he told her. “If you were here
just a half-hour ago. There were three suckers from Minneapolis just
dying for some action. Suzanne came and took all three.”

“All three?” Lee replied. “At once?”

“How they arrange it is their business.”

“Shit. I really need another trick. Badly.”

“Why don’t you try Tommy.”

“All right.”

She sighed and left the bar, and took the elevator up to the lobby,
and walked over to the concierge—a little guy wearing a red
uniform, who was maybe a few years older than her and a couple of
inches taller.

“How’s it going, Tommy?” she asked.

“Quiet,” he replied. “Real quiet.”

“So, no one’s looking for . . .”

“Sorry, babe. Not tonight.”

“Thanks anyway.”

Glumly she then exited the hotel, and saw that the sun was beginning
to rise. And, with nothing better to do, she walked a few blocks down
to the boardwalk, and from there looked out at the ocean just beyond
it—and at the waves as well.

It was these same waves that first lured her here after high school a
few years earlier. At that time, the waves seemed so life-giving. But
now they were laughing at her.

She let them laugh awhile and thought for just a moment about getting
the last laugh, by jumping in the water and never returning.

For she hated her existence. She hated every bit of it, especially
the loneliness. And at the same time she saw no way out from it.

But this urge to destroy herself soon faded, and she turned around
and headed toward her apartment.

To get her things.

And she thought about where she’d go afterward. A thought that
made her shake her head, as it was difficult enough beforehand
getting a place without a steady job and references from past
landlords, but now she still had no job and had a bad reference. And
she had no friends or family to help her out.

A flophouse—that’s where she’d go, she told
herself. A flophouse. A thought that just horrified her.

Then, then she saw him. And stopped. And stared.

He had just taken a seat in front of an outdoor café, a café
that must’ve just opened. For he was the only one there. In
fact, most of the chairs were still on the tables.

This guy, who was modestly dressed, looked as if he were perhaps
forty, and was well-built but short, perhaps a little taller than the
concierge, with short wavy brown hair that had just a touch of gray
in the sideburns. And though he had his face down as he read the
newspaper in front of him, she could tell that he was attractive.

Perhaps more than just attractive.

Not that it mattered, she tried telling herself.

Instinctively, she started toward him, even though she knew that it
was one thing to approach a man in a hotel bar at night—especially
after he had been drinking—but quite another to approach
someone in front of an outdoor café in broad daylight.

Something bad could happen.

And the chances that something good could happen were remote.

But she had no choice.

So, she walked over and sat down across from him.

Moments later, he looked up from his paper in mild surprise, and
smiled at her.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” she replied. “Is, is it all right if I sit
here?”

“By all means.”

“I, I don’t suppose you’re looking for company?”

“Company?”

Before she could explain what she meant, a waitress exited the café
and came up to them, and knowing immediately who and what Lee was,
sneered at her.

A sneer that was returned in kind.

“Can I get you something?” the waitress said to the man,
with a forced smile.

“Yes,” he said. “Some of your orange juice. A big
glass of it.”

The waitress nodded and started off.

“Wait a minute,” he said to her, before turning to Lee.
“Would you like something?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll have an orange juice,
too. With vodka in it.”

“We don’t serve liquor,” the waitress growled.

“Then, forget it.”

The waitress then quickly rambled off, and the man playfully smiled
at Lee.

“You sure you won’t have some orange juice?” he
inquired. “I have it all the time. It’s freshly squeezed,
and truly wonderful.”

“I like my wonderful dulled a bit.”

“My name is Seth.”

“Lee.”

“I—”

“—Look, Seth, why don’t we just cut to the chase.”

But before she could, the waitress came out with Seth’s orange
juice, and once again sneered at Lee, who once again sneered back.

Then, as soon as the waitress left, Seth said to Lee, “You were
saying?”

“I think you know what I am,” Lee replied. “You
don’t look stupid. And obviously you’re not a tourist or
here on business.”

“Obviously.”

“So?”

“So?”

“So, are you interested?” she asked. “Or am I just
wasting my time?”

“If you have a proposition I’m willing to listen,”
he told her.

“You’re not a cop, are you? Because if you are, you have
to tell me right now. Otherwise, it’s entrapment.”

“I’m not a cop.”

“All right. Here’s the deal, Seth. Two hundred dollars.
And, in return, you can do anything you want with me until 8:30.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“All right.”

“All right?” she replied, with muted excitement, not
certain for a moment if she were happy or sad that she was saved from
her fate.

“I said, all right,” he reiterated.

“All right, let’s go,” she said. “There’s
a hotel—”

“—I live a few blocks from here,” he interrupted,
pointing in the direction of it.

“I prefer the hotel. It’s safer.”

“But I’m the one paying.”

She thought about this for a moment.

Seth certainly looked harmless enough, but there was always that
possibility he wasn’t. Normally, she would never put herself in
such a situation.

But things weren’t normal.

“All right,” she finally said.

“All right?” he asked.

“All right.”

Seth then quickly finished his juice and paid for it, and the two
quietly walked to his apartment, which was in a modest garden-style
building that probably was once a motel. And, after they entered the
courtyard, they walked upstairs to a small one-bedroom unit.

“Can I get you something?” he asked, as they walked
inside.

“You got some blow?” she asked back, before plopping
herself down on a cheap light tan futon in the living room.

“Sorry,” he replied with a smile.

“Weed?”

“Nope.”

“Certainly you have some booze.”

“Afraid not.”

“So, what do you do for fun?”

He smiled at her.

“Well, I guess that’s why I’m here,” she
said.

“Maybe,” he replied, before sitting down on the futon, a
good distance from her.

“Let’s get down to business, Seth,” she said,
looking over the modestly furnished place. “You do have the
money, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Well, I’d like to see it now if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

He took out his wallet and extracted two one-hundred-dollar bills,
and put them on the inexpensive coffee table that stood in front of
them.

“All right,” she said, while taking the money and putting
it in her small purse, from which she then extracted a condom
package. A package that she dropped onto the table. “You’re
gonna wear this,” she added.

“No, I won’t,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

“Then, I won’t fuck you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Then, what am I here for?”

“You said you’d do anything I wanted.”

“I’m not doing anything kinky.”

“I want you to hold me,” he said, opening his arms.

“What?” she replied, with a stunned expression.

“I want you to hold me until 8:30.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Is that too kinky for you?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m waiting,” he uttered, again holding open
his arms.

Hesitantly, she inched toward him, and soon was right next to him.
And then she awkwardly held him, putting one arm behind his back and
the other on his chest. “Like this?” she asked.

“It’s a good start,” he replied softly. “Now,
put your head on my shoulder.”

She did, and felt even more awkward. “This is just crazy,”
she murmured. “Don’t you at least want a blow job?”

“No,” he murmured back.

“A hand job?”

“No.”

“You just want me to hold you for two and a half hours?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m lonely.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I just want some human contact. That’s it.”

“Why don’t you just get yourself a girlfriend? They’re
good for that, so I’m told.”

“I’m not good with women.”

“What do you mean? You’re attractive, nice.”

“And uninteresting.”

“That’s not true.”

“Can I ask, why are you a prostitute? You’re attractive,
nice.”

“I’m not nice.”

“You are.”

Suddenly, she started feeling more uncomfortable. “I don’t
like this at all,” she said. “Sex is much easier.”

“I know, but that’s not what I paid for. You’re
gonna have to earn your money this morning.”

“Can I ask, what do you do?” she asked.

“I’m a writer,” he answered.

“A good one?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. But I’m a
successful one.”

“You mean, you got money?”

“Enough.”

“Then, why do you live in this dump?”

“I have everything I need here. The ocean, fresh-squeezed
orange juice . . . beautiful women to look at.”

“I bet if you bought a big house and a fancy car, and expensive
clothes, lots of girls would find you interesting.”

“But would I find them interesting?”

“I don’t know.”

“I find you interesting.”

Lee strangely felt a blush coming out. Something she hadn’t
felt since childhood. And it wasn’t welcome.

Suddenly, he started caressing her hands and her arms, and finally
her legs.

“You, you want me to get naked?” she asked.

“No. Just touch me. Please touch me.”

She complied, and gently rubbed her hands against his chest and
thighs, and brushed her face against his arms and shoulders.

It felt good to her. Too good. And somehow she got even more
uncomfortable. “I don’t like this,” she cooed. “I
really don’t.”

“This is the best,” he said. “Sex is nothing in
comparison.”

He then interlocked her fingers with his and caressed her belly and
her hips, and she started quietly gasping, knowing he was
right—knowing this was beyond anything she ever felt. More
erotic, more sensual.

Here she was—a hooker—a hooker who had done everything
imaginable she thought.

Everything but this.

“Can I kiss you?” she softly asked. “Please?”

She half-expected him to say no, but instead he leaned over and
gently put his lips on hers. And kissed her, sweetly and lovingly. He
kissed her in a way that was so different than any kiss she ever
knew.

Quickly, the hours went by, and the two still hadn’t left the
futon. They just held each other and kissed and touched and whispered
nothingness, with their arms and legs and bodies intertwined.

She felt numb and thoughtless, finding his touch much like the drugs
she often used. Drugs that made her momentarily forget who and what
she was.

But this was better. Way better.

Though it was just as temporal as the drugs.

For soon he gently pulled away from her.

“What?” she muttered, feeling suddenly empty.

He pointed at the clock on the wall and smiled.

“Oh,” she said, before slowly standing up and
straightening herself.

“Thank you,” he told her.

She quickly realized that was the first time anyone had ever thanked
her. For anything. “You’re welcome,” she replied,
struggling with the words. And, a moment later, added, “Well, I
guess I should be going. I gotta pay my rent. You know, you saved me
this morning.”

“No, you saved me, Lee. You’re a wonderful woman. And
nice.”

She smiled, and, feeling as if she were about to fall apart, started
for the door. “I’ll see ya,” she uttered.

“I’ll see ya,” he uttered back.

And then she left the apartment. And walked toward the staircase.

She had done it, she tried to tell herself. She had made the two
hundred. She could now pay her rent and continue her existence.

Only, she couldn’t.

She couldn’t continue to the stairs.

Something stopped her. And, when she looked back at his door, she
knew what it was.

And it wasn’t him.

It was her.

Then, something strange happened. Something that hadn’t
happened to her since childhood.

She cried. She cried and walked back to his door. And knocked on it.

Seconds later, he opened his door and looked at her, and looked at
her tears. And felt an overwhelming urge to touch them, and stop them
from flowing. And only didn’t because he knew his time was up.

Slowly, she reached into her purse and took out the two hundred
dollars. The two hundred dollars she desperately needed.

And she handed the money back to him.

“What?” he muttered.

“I love you,” she muttered back before rushing off.

“I love you, too,” he shouted, loud enough for all his
neighbors to hear.

She stopped cold and hesitantly turned back to him, and saw the money
falling from his hand onto the floor, before blowing away in the cool
ocean breeze.

Blowing away from both of them.

He then opened his arms, much as he had done that lifetime ago, back
in his apartment.

She ran up to him and jumped on top of him, knocking them both back
into his apartment, where they kissed and touched, and finally made
love. Something that was only an afterthought.

The dessert.

And never did she pay that rent. Or return to the hotel. Or read
another romance novel.

Though the two somehow did find their way back to that café
for the freshly squeezed orange juice.

Every single morning.

###

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Giving It to the Man

RODNEY LICKED HIS lips as he saw the car approach from the distance.
All morning in the sticky heat he’d been waiting for a victim,
and now one was finally coming his way.

The car eventually passed him and he flipped on his siren and sped
off after it from behind the hedges.

Immediately, the beat-up Oldsmobile pulled over to the side of the
road, and Rodney smiled at this, believing he had a submissive
victim, which he always considered to be the best kind.

He soon pulled up a little ways behind it, and, after checking the
plates with the dispatcher, sat back and took a deep breath. And
waited. For he wanted his victim to have enough time to get good and
scared.

Finally, he opened his door and sauntered out of the patrol car
toward the Oldsmobile, looking almost like a sheriff from some old
western.

Then, when he got to the driver’s side window of the car, he
peeked inside. And smiled when he saw he had hit the jackpot.

For the driver was a woman. And not only was she a woman, but a
pretty woman. Rodney thought she was especially pretty, even if she
were pushing 40.

He drank in her long dark hair and green eyes, and her slender tan
body—a body covered by a thin white cotton tank top and denim
shorts.

It was at this time that the woman also looked at him. She saw a
short, thickly set blond man about her age. A man grinning at her
like an idiot.

And she was not impressed.

“Is there a problem, officer?” she asked, as politely as
she could.

“You betcha,” he murmured, thinking she seemed strangely
calm. Though he told himself that she was just hiding her fear. For
they were always afraid of him. Especially women. Twenty years as a
deputy told him this. “Your license and registration,” he
ordered, reaching inside the car.

“What did I do?”

“Your license and registration,” he repeated, in a
brusque tone.

She found the items and gave them to him, and he looked through the
documents carefully. That is, he appeared to look through them
carefully. In truth, though, he didn’t care about them at all,
apart from one thing.

Her name.

Which was Candy.

A name that made his erection come to life.

“Was I speeding?” Candy asked.

“You betcha,” he replied with a smile, while handing her
back her items. “I clocked you at fifty. This is a
twenty-five-mile-an-hour zone. We’ve got a school up the ways.”

“I didn’t see a sign.”

“Oh, it’s there. Trust me.”

“So, how much is the ticket?”

“I’m afraid it’s not so simple.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you see, a few years back some drunk killed a kid not
too far from here. And so the county passed a new law requiring jail
time for any speeding violation twenty miles per hour over the limit.
And you were twenty-five over.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m afraid not. You’re facing 30 days in jail. And
a $3,000 fine. Now, please step out of the car.”

“But . . .”

“I said,” he growled, “step out of the car.”

Candy thought for a moment. She thought about all the myriad of
possible actions she could take. And then took the safest one at the
time. She reluctantly stepped out of the car. “Isn’t
there—” she mumbled.

“—Move to the front of the car, facing forward,” he
interrupted, noticing right away that she was a half-head taller than
him, something that bothered him not at all. He liked tall women. He
liked them for the same reason that, in his barfighting days, he
liked tall men. They were a challenge—a means for overcoming
his insecurity about his size.

She sighed in reply to his request, but hesitantly complied, with him
following close behind. And once she was standing in front of her
hood, he told her, “Now, interlock your fingers behind your
head.”

She did, and he slowly started searching her, beginning with her long
toned arms and then working his way down to her breasts, which he
roughly groped for a few moments before moving to her flat tummy,
which he stroked a bit more gently. Finally, his hands reached her
tiny bottom and her long muscular legs, and her groin.

It was at this moment that she thought about ending this ridiculous
charade. But she knew that that could just cause more problems. And
besides, she told herself, she needed a little fun and excitement.

“Isn’t there some way I could avoid jail, mister?”
she asked, in her best girlie voice. “Perhaps we could make
some kind of arrangement?”

In reply, he pulled her arms down behind her back and handcuffed her.
And she turned away from him so he wouldn’t see her grin.

He grinned, too. For a different reason. “You wouldn’t be
trying to bribe me now, would you?” he asked. “’Cause
that comes with a much stiffer sentence.”

“I didn’t mean money,” she told him, rolling her
eyes at his stupidity, with her head still turned from him.

“What did you mean?” he inquired coyly.

She leaned back and rubbed her behind against his body.

And he moaned. And, taking hold of her belly once again, whispered,
“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“Just don’t take me to jail,” she whispered.

“Oh, I’m gonna take you some place much nicer. Much
nicer.”

He then grabbed her cuffed wrists and yanked her forward, toward the
patrol car.

“Where are we going?” she cried, in pretend fright.

“You’ll see,” he answered, feeling a great surge of
power running through his body. “You’ll see.”

RODNEY PARKED THE car at the end of a lonely cul-de-sac, in front of
a shabby ranch house. And then jumped out and opened the back door,
and pulled the handcuffed woman outside.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Just shut up!” he barked back, pushing her forward.

Soon, they got to the front door of the house, which was unlocked. He
opened it, and, after peeking inside, entered, dragging Candy with
him.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

He didn’t reply. He just kept dragging her. And continued doing
so until they reached a door to a bedroom, at which time he took off
her handcuffs and tossed her inside—on top of an old squeaky
bed, causing her to squeal.

He smiled at this; and, as he strode toward her, he undid his belt
and then his trousers, and finally his white boxers. And, while
standing by the foot of the bed, with his small limp member hanging
out, he barked, “Suck it, bitch!”

She looked up at him and then at her task, and almost burst out in
laughter.

“I said, suck it!” he screamed, before grabbing her by
the hair and forcing her off the bed and onto her knees, right in
front of him. “Suck it or I’ll take you to jail!”

“Oh, don’t do that,” she pleaded, with faux
distress.

“Then, suck it.”

Like in the car, she paused for a moment to think over her
possibilities. But, even though she realized at this point he wasn’t
going to be much fun, she put him in her mouth anyway.

“Yeah, that’s it!” he cried. “Suck it! Get it
nice and fucking wet for when I slam it into your pussy!”

Soon, he gripped the back of her head and started forcing himself in
and out of her mouth, mumbling over the phony gagging sounds she was
making.

“I . . . I’m gonna make you choke on it,
bitch!” he hollered.

But she was hardly choking. In fact, she almost chuckled at what he
had just said, knowing that his tiny erection couldn’t choke a
chicken.

“You fucking whore!” he continued. “You slut! I’m
gonna fuck you so hard! I’m gonna fuck you up the ass!”

Seconds later, he leaned her head against the bed, and knelt on top
of the mattress; and, with his hands tightly around her throat, began
plowing himself onto her tongue at a frantic pace, while gasping for
breath.

This went on for many minutes, and then he withdrew and stepped back,
and looked down at his hard wet manhood. A manhood that was almost as
small as when it was flaccid.

“Get up,” he told her, motioning her with his hand.

She did.

He then removed his shirt and said, “Now take your clothes off.
Slowly. All of them.”

Candy reached down and removed her white tank top, and then her bra,
revealing her small but shapely milk-white breasts, which contrasted
sharply with her tan body.

“Yeah,” he muttered while jerking himself, desperately
trying to maintain his small erection. “Nice fucking tits. I’m
gonna do everything to them. Everything!”

She then took off her denim shorts and panties, exposing a bare pair
of lips.

Which almost sent him over the top. His eyes bulged out and his hand
furiously yanked his member. “You shave that thing?” he
demanded.

She nodded.

“Holy shit!” he whimpered. “It’s gonna be
like fucking a little girl!”

Seconds later, he pointed at the bed and cried, “Lie down! I’m
gonna fuck you now! Oh, man, am I gonna fuck you!”

She stretched out on the mattress and turned her head away, so as not
to laugh in his face. And he jumped on top of her—causing the
bed to loudly squeak. And, after no struggle whatsoever, he slid
himself inside her. And forced her face toward him. “You’re
gonna look at me while I fuck you, cunt! You’re gonna look at
me!”

She looked at him, biting down on her tongue, and he smiled back.

“How does it feel to be fucked?” he yelled. “How
does it feel to be fucked by me?”

She wanted to tell him that she could barely feel anything, which was
the truth. But she just kept biting her tongue.

He soon started slamming himself into her while groping her like a
piece of meat. And did this for a long time—much longer than
Candy had expected. And she noticed that there were almost no
deviations in his movements. He just stayed in the same missionary
position and pounded her. And grunted, making sounds that were barely
audible over the squeaking bed.

And she almost yawned in reply, more than once.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open. And a tall, full-figured
blonde a little older than Candy stood at the threshold in shock,
gasping while clutching her face.

She wasn’t an unattractive woman, but she was dressed shabbily
and looked tired, especially around the eyes.

Rodney turned his head toward her and sighed, and uttered, “Shit!”

“What are you doing, Rodney?” she whined.

“Get the fuck out of here!” he screamed back. “Now!”

The woman ran off and Rodney turned back to Candy and growled, “You
fucking whore! Now you’re really gonna get it.”

He then turned her over and entered her behind—something she
also barely felt.

“How does it feel to get fucked up the ass?” he cried.
“How does it feel to get fucked up the ass by me?”

Moments later, he grabbed her breasts and started bouncing onto her,
at a mad pace. “Come!” he hollered, over and over.

But he wasn’t hollering at her.

He was hollering at himself.

And he kept hollering this for almost five minutes before finally
squeezing his ooze out into her, while howling softly, “Aaahhhhhh!”

He soon added, “Shit, that was good! Shit!” And for a
little while afterward he just lay there silently on top of her, the
sweat of his body drenching hers.

Then, she finally spoke. “Am I free now?”

He didn’t answer at first. He just slowly rose and got dressed.
But, just before he left, he uttered, “Get out of here, whore.
If I see your ass in this town again, I’ll throw you in jail,
for solicitation.”

She didn’t say anything back. Or even move. Until she heard him
leave the house.

That’s when she finally burst out in laughter. And recalled how
she had thought more than once during the encounter about exacting
some revenge against this puny little man. But now, any lingering
thoughts of this flew out of her head.

He just wasn’t worth it.

Soon, she got dressed, and then walked out of both the bedroom and
the house.

It was then that Candy saw the full-figured blonde sitting on the
front stoop, with her head in her hands. And, as much as she wanted
to leave, she just couldn’t. For she felt something for this
woman, for a reason she couldn’t quite understand.

“What are you waiting for?” the woman mumbled. “Get
out!”

“It wasn’t exactly consensual,” Candy replied.
“Believe me.”

The woman spun toward Candy with teary eyes and screamed, “Get
out!”

But still Candy didn’t leave. Instead she sat by the woman and
took her into her arms.

“Didn’t you hear me?” the woman yelled, trying to
break free. “Leave.” But soon the woman quit resisting
and put her arms around Candy. And hugged her. And cried.

“That’s it,” Candy said, “just let it out.”

For a long time the women just sat there, without saying anything.
They just held each other.

Finally, the blonde was all saddened out. She released her arms from
Candy and wiped her eyes.

“You his wife?” Candy asked.

The woman nodded and offered her hand, which Candy gently shook. “My
name is Linda,” she said.

“That’s a pretty name. Mine’s Candy.”

“Is that short for Candice?”

“Nah. It’s just Candy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you see, my mom was a stripper.”

Linda giggled.

And Candy giggled back, and told her, “There you go. Isn’t
it much better to laugh?”

“I’m sorry,” Linda uttered, with a suddenly grim
face.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry that Rodney did that to you.”

“Ah, his bark’s worse than his bite.”

“That’s Rodney, all right.”

“Tell me something, honey. I’m not the first woman he’s
done this too, am I?”

Linda shook her head.

“You, you got some tea in there?” added Candy, pointing
inside the house.

Linda nodded. And smiled.

WHILE WAITING FOR the tea to brew Candy excused herself and went to
the bathroom, to clean up a bit.

She stepped inside the tiny room and found the door to the medicine
cabinet open, and saw a bottle of Viagra staring back at her, causing
her to smile.

“So, that’s how he kept it up for so long,” she
whispered.

She also saw other pill bottles there. Bottles of anti-depressants,
tranquilizers, and a whole lot of Valium. And Candy surmised that
this was likely what Linda had been using to keep herself up for so
long.

Candy then washed up and left the bathroom, and found Linda sitting
on a couch in the living room, with a tea set in front of her on the
coffee table. And she joined the woman. And, over a cup of tea, they
told each other the basics of their lives.

But when Linda poured Candy a second cup, Candy got a little more
personal. “Why?” she asked.

“Why what?” Linda replied.

“Why do you stay with him?”

“We’ve been together a long time. Twenty years.”

“So?”

“He was different back then.”

“So?”

“So, where would I go? I mean, come on—I’m closer
to fifty than forty. And just look at me—I’m a mess. No
one would want me.”

“Lots of people would.”

“Blind people.”

“That’s not true. You’re a beautiful woman.”

“You’re just being nice.”

“I’m not. I’m not nice at all.”

Candy then leaned toward Linda and kissed her softly on the
lips—something that made Linda jump back in fright.

“I’m sorry,” Linda said, shaking her head, “but
I’m not a lesbian.”

“Me, neither,” said Candy with a smile.

“I . . . I don’t understand.”

“I don’t really like labels. They’re all so
meaningless. Gay, straight, lesbian—what does it mean? Me, I
like individuals. Individuals attract me. You attract me. Don’t
I attract you at all?”

“I . . .”

Candy once again leaned forward and kissed Linda—a tender kiss
that was soon reciprocated. And a short time later Candy started
unbuttoning the woman’s blouse, and then reached inside and
cupped the woman’s large breasts.

“I . . . I don’t know about this,” Linda
uttered.

“You don’t have to know,” Candy whispered back,
putting her lips on the exposed parts of Linda’s chest. “Just
feel.”

The two then slowly undressed each other, with their lips never
leaving one another. And, for a long time afterward, they just lay on
the couch together, kissing and caressing and whispering beautiful
thoughts.

Finally, Candy moved to her knees and, while gently fingering Linda,
cooed, “I’m gonna show you how beautiful you really are.
I’m gonna make you feel beautiful.”

And seconds later, Candy’s lips were upon the woman, causing
Linda to moan and shake.

“That feels good,” she whispered, while running her
fingers through Candy’s hair. “I don’t remember
ever feeling this good.”

“This is nothing,” Candy told her, right before putting
two fingers inside her.

“Oh, my God!” Linda yelped.

“It can be as good as with a man,” Candy added, while
moving her fingers in and out. “maybe even better.”

“Yes!”

Candy then returned her tongue while continuing to penetrate Linda
with her fingers.

“Aaggggghh!” Linda finally called out, shaking all over.
“I—I think I’m coming!”

She soon calmed down and Candy looked up at her and saw that her eyes
were no longer tired. They looked happy and young. And Candy smiled
and said, “See, you are beautiful. Right now you’re the
most beautiful woman in the world.”

“I wanna make you beautiful, too,” Linda muttered.

“We can make ourselves beautiful.”

“Yeah?”

Candy joined Linda on the couch and moved her on her side; and, as
she returned her fingers and tongue to Linda, Linda did the same to
her. Though, not having experience in such things, Linda wasn’t
nearly as adept as Candy. But it didn’t matter. Candy enjoyed
it anyway. To her, the sex was as good as any she ever had. For Linda
so wanted to please her, and this made up for everything.

“I’m gonna come soon,” Candy uttered. “I want
you to come with me.”

“Okay,” Linda babbled.

Both women then doubled their pace, and, when Candy heard Linda’s
cries, her whole body started shivering, and she exploded like never
before.

“You did it!” Candy cried.

“I did?” Linda asked hopefully.

“You made me beautiful!”

And, for the next few hours, they kept making each other beautiful,
over and over and over.

LINDA AWOKE WITH the setting sun and saw the wonderful woman snuggled
up against her.

Candy’s face was lying gently against her breasts, and it
looked almost as if she were suckling them.

And, with the back of her hand, Linda caressed Candy’s cheeks.
And smiled, feeling a love stronger than anything she ever felt
before.

Soon, Candy awoke and smiled back. And kissed Linda. And touched her,
all over.

But suddenly a dark thought entered Linda’s head. The first
such one she had had in hours. And she pulled away from Candy.

“What’s wrong?” Candy asked.

“It’s almost time,” Linda replied.

“Time for what?”

“Rodney—he’ll be back. For dinner. You better get
out of here.”

“He doesn’t frighten me.”

“He should.”

Candy shook her head and told her, “No, he shouldn’t. He
shouldn’t frighten you, either. He’s a total loser. Come,
leave with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He’d just find me. And he’s got an awful temper.
He’d do something terrible.”

“Tell me something, Linda. Has, has he beat you before?”

Linda didn’t answer.

“Linda?” Candy asked softly, grabbing the woman’s
hands. “Has he?”

Linda nodded, tears in her eyes.

Then, all of a sudden, those lingering thoughts of revenge Candy felt
against Rodney flew back into her head.

Candy, too, had a temper. A temper far worse than his. And it was
about to be unleashed.

“How would you like it,” Candy said, “if he
couldn’t hurt you again? If you could be free of him forever?”

“You don’t mean . . .”

“No, I mean something a whole lot better.”

“What?”

Candy just smiled in reply.

RODNEY DUG INTO the thick and hearty beef stew with an uncommon
vigor.

The day’s events had left him famished, and he felt almost mad
with hunger. A hunger he never knew before. And, before long, he was
barely even chewing his food.

Now and then, though, he would glance at his wife at the opposite end
of the table, who was just staring blankly at him in front of an
empty plate. He had expected whining from her when he came home, and
was prepared for it. But he wasn’t prepared for this. And it
made him uncomfortable.

“Aren’t you eating?” he growled.

“I already ate,” she told him. “I ate all
afternoon.”

He thought this comment odd, but returned back to his food. And
suddenly noticed something about it. And said to her, “You
know, the stew tastes a little different tonight.”

“Does it?” she replied.

“Better.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

He nodded and ate even faster than before. Soon, he was just shoving
down his throat.

And then, then he started feeling a little weird. And sleepy. And
soon struggled to keep his eyes open.

But he didn’t struggle for long.

WHEN RODNEY AWOKE he saw that he was alone in the kitchen, and that
it was still dark outside.

He was feeling woozy, but tried to stand anyway.

But something stopped him.

And then he realized what. He realized that his hands were cuffed
behind the heavy kitchen chair.

He also realized that his pants were gone.

“Linda?” he screamed. “Where the fuck are you? What
have you done? Get the fuck out here, you stupid bitch!”

Linda rushed into the kitchen, wearing nothing but lingerie and a big
smile. “You called, sweetie?” she uttered.

“Get me out of these fucking cuffs!” he hollered. “You
dumb fucking bitch, I’ll kill you! I’m a cop—don’t
you know I can kill anyone I want!”

Suddenly, there was laughter from nearby.

“Who’s that?” he demanded. “Show yourself?”

Moments later, Candy entered the kitchen, wearing only a bra and
panties. “Remember me?” she asked, with an even bigger
smile than what was on Linda’s face.

“What the fuck’s going on here?” he yelled, trying
to break free of the chair. “I’ll fuck you up, cunt! I’ll
fuck both of you up!”

Candy, in response, rushed up to him and slammed her fist into his
nose, breaking it.

“Shut up, bitch!” she cried. “It’s you who’s
gonna get fucked up! You!”

He cried out in pain, with blood running down his mouth and chin, and
finally onto his police shirt. “Help me!” he called out.
“Somebody help!”

Candy turned to Linda, who looked a little jittery and unsure of
herself.

But when she saw Candy nod, Linda nodded back, and picked up a roll
of thick tape from the counter top and tossed it to Candy, who then
used it to tape Rodney’s mouth shut.

“You fucking whore!” Candy screamed at him. “You
slut! I’m gonna fuck you so hard! I’m gonna fuck you up
the ass!”

Candy then smiled. And started taking off her bra—slowly, just
as she had done in the bedroom earlier that day. “I have nice
fucking tits,” she said, caressing her milk-white breasts.
“Don’t I?”

When he didn’t respond, she kneed him where it hurt the most,
causing him to squeal.

“Don’t I?” she demanded.

Again he didn’t respond. So again she kneed him. And then
yanked his hair back. And again he squealed.

“Don’t I have nice fucking tits?” she hollered.

He nodded his head, over and over.

She again smiled, and, seconds later, slowly took off her panties,
exposing her bare pair of lips. “It’s just like a little
girl’s,” she uttered in her best girlie voice, while
fingering herself. “It’s gonna be like fucking a little
girl. Only you’re gonna be the little girl!”

She then looked at him and saw tears forming in his eyes. And kneeled
down and grabbed his little limpness, and put it in her mouth. And
slobbered over it until it was hard. At which time she withdrew it.

“We put enough Viagra in that stew to keep an Elephant hung,”
she told him. “You’re gonna be hard all night for us. Not
that it would matter much with that little prick of yours.”

She then chuckled at her own remark, and impaled herself on him. And
the very moment he was inside her she forced his head toward her.
“You’re gonna look at me while I fuck you, cunt!”
she yelled. “You’re gonna look at me!”

Then, as she rode him like a horse, she turned back to Linda and
cooed, “Linda, come here please.”

Linda, who was somewhat horrified by what she saw, didn’t move.

“Please, Linda,” Candy begged, “I need you.”

Linda hesitantly walked over to her; and Candy passionately kissed
her under the watchful eyes of Rodney.

Candy also took off Linda’s lingerie, and fondled her breasts,
before returning her gaze to Rodney.

“I fucked your wife all afternoon,” she said to him. “I
cuckolded you, bitch.” She then turned to Linda, and, while
fingering her asked, “Didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Linda moaned. “Oh, yes.”

“And I made you come.”

“Yes.”

“Did he ever make you come?”

“Never.”

Suddenly, Candy grabbed Rodney’s hair and told him, “See,
I’m more of a man than you are.” And, while continuing to
ride him, Candy shoved two fingers in and out of his ass, causing him
to shake and shiver in pain, with tears rolling down his face. “How
do you like being fucked up the ass?” she demanded. “How
do you like being fucked up the ass by me?”

He just moaned and groaned in reply.

Minutes later, she finally took out her fingers and jumped off him.
“I’m tired of that little dick!” she whined. “You
wanna fuck him, Linda? You wanna fuck that little prick?”

Linda didn’t answer at first, but then nodded her head.

Candy smiled back and knocked Rodney’s chair back onto the
floor, and uttered, “Good. I’m gonna try his nose. It’s
got to be bigger than his dick.”

She then took Linda’s hands and guided the woman on top of him.
And, as Linda bounced on top of Rodney’s tiny erection, Candy,
while facing Linda, sat on Rodney’s broken nose and heard him
screech in agony.

And that was before she rode him, which made him squirm and writhe
and whimper.

Candy watched this with glee, especially when she saw the blood
slowly dripping down his face.

Eventually, though, she got tired of looking at Rodney. And so she
turned to Linda, who was still riding her husband’s erection,
and the two women kissed and caressed each other for what seemed like
an eternity.

Finally, Candy broke free of their embrace and hollered, “Damn!
The little shit’s gonna make me come!”

She quickened her pace on his nose and, grabbing Linda’s
breasts, yelled, “I’m gonna fucking come on him!
Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Fluid then poured out of her, onto his face.

She looked down at his wetness and shook her head; and said, “You
know, that’s just not good enough.”

And so she stood up and squatted over his face, and pissed on him—in
his eyes and on his nose, and in his ears.

She smiled afterward, with contentment. And then looked at Linda, who
was still bouncing on top of Rodney.

“Let’s go,” Candy whispered, reaching out for her,
“you’ll never come over that dick.”

Linda nodded and took Candy’s hand, and they both stood up and
began to walk off.

Suddenly, though, Linda stopped. And uttered, “Wait.”

“What?” Candy asked, still holding her hand.

“Twenty years. Twenty years I’ve been married to that
asshole. And, you know what, this just doesn’t make up for
everything.”

“What do you want to do?” Candy asked, with a bit of
trepidation.

Linda turned around, and, after releasing Candy’s hand, slowly
moved toward Rodney, who cowered as best he could on the floor.

Finally, Linda stood over him. Over his face. And then, much like the
way Candy had done, she squatted.

Only she didn’t piss on his face.

Instead she clenched her face and groaned.

And shat.

And then wiped her ass on his police shirt.

“Now, we’re even,” she said to him, just as Candy
walked up to her and took her hand, and led her to her bedroom.

And, after they both got dressed and packed Linda’s things,
Candy led her out of the house for good.

Then, on the front stoop, where the two women first came together,
Candy suddenly released Linda’s hand and stepped back into the
house. And calmly walked up to Rodney, whose erection was still hard
from all the Viagra he had consumed. And she told him, “Just in
case you’re thinking of coming after Linda or me, I think it’s
only fair to warn you about something . . . me. That’s
right, me. If you ever make it back to that little police station of
yours, do a search for Candy Summers. You’ll discover what I’ve
done to those who’ve fucked with me in the past. And you’ll
realize that you got off easy tonight. Way easy.”

THE TWO WOMEN reached Linda’s car and stopped.

“Now what?” Linda asked.

“I think we go our separate ways,” Candy replied,
lowering her eyes.

“What do you mean?” Linda cried, caressing Candy’s
cheek. “I love you. Don’t you feel the same?”

Candy raised her eyes and nodded. And said, “That’s why
we have to separate.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was telling the truth back there. I’ve done bad
things, Linda. Real bad things. People are after me. The FBI. The
mob. Everyone.”

“I don’t care.”

“But I do. You could get hurt.”

“I’ve already been hurt,” Linda muttered, clenching
Candy’s hands. “I’ve been hurt all my life. Only
now with you has the hurt stopped.”

“I . . .” Candy began.

But she couldn’t finish. She couldn’t finish because
Linda kissed her, and wouldn’t stop kissing her.

And would never stop kissing her.

###

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