Last Thing I do!
Sally and her brother Hermie are strange people. Every weekend they venture forth from Piggott Arkansas to small towns in one of the three adjacent states.
When they arrive, they rent a motel room from which they fan out to the local saloons, so Sally a gorgeous blonde haired blue eyed Barbie Doll type can pick up men to fuck for money, while Hermie watches. And that ain’t the strange part.
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She went to the lavatories, washed her hands and stared into the mirror to make sure she looked her best.
“Don’t worry about it foxy lady. You look fantastic.”
Before she could turn to see who’d spoken, the pool player came into view in the mirror’s reflection, easing in right beside her.
She tried not to smile, but her disloyal lips curved up anyway. “What are you doing in here?”
“Looking for you. I saw you looking at me. I know you want me and I want you. I want me some sweet, white meat.”
She rolled her eyes. “What a fucked up line you have. ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane,’ let’s fuck. How old are you anyway?”
“I’m celebrating my twenty-first birthday today and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate than having your pretty pink pussy on the end of my long brownie.”
She ran her long stiletto tipped fingers along his cheek. She really would like to fuck him, but not at the motel. “What’s your name?”
He wrapped his right arm around her, his fingers fanning out over her breast. “Terrance. What’s yours?”
She glanced down at his hand, but didn’t mention it. “I’m Sally, but you don’t want to mess with me.”
He edged over behind her, his left hand fanning over her other breast. “Oh, why is that?”
Her excitement rose from his hands kneading her breasts, “Well for starters, I’m a lady of the night—a prostitute.” Thrills raced through her from his bold hardness pushing against her posterior. She knew exactly where he wanted that hardness and she wanted it there, too. “I get two-fifty an hour. Do you have two-fifty?”
Watching each other in the mirror, he nuzzled his cheek against her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “I would gladly pay you a thousand an hour if I had it.” His hand left her breast for wetter more fertile pastures, sliding down her dress and lifting the hem. “Unfortunately, I only have fifty dollars.”
As he rubbed his large hand over her mound and between her legs, embers within her womb, burst into a flame of desire. All she could feel was the pulsing of her beating heart and the heat of lust between her legs.
“Please, is there anything you can give Terrence for his birthday and fifty bucks?”
He shunted her panties aside and shoved a thick finger where they both wanted his cock. The thought of his hot male organ punching deep into her warm, wet, wicked well made her deliriously lustful. Like a morning fog, desire had descended upon her turning her yearning into lust. A fuzzy cloudlike curtain descended upon her and the walls of her hot pussy began to sweat fountains of crème. “Yes…do you have a condom?”
After he nodded, she grasped his hand and led him to the far stall. She grabbed the fifty dollars he held out and shoved it into her purse. “Fifteen minutes of your ‘long brownie’ in my ‘pretty pink pussy.’” She shut the stall door and took her dress off. As she hung her dress on the garment door hook, his mouth descended upon her breast and latched ravenously onto her hardened nipple. Terrence’s hands roamed over Sally’s back and ass and she heated up like a teakettle.
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