New Dawning International Bookfair
presents
An Irreverent Erotic Short Story
by
Dee Dawning
Copyright © 2009 Dee Dawning
Smashwords Edition
Last Thing I Do!
Part One
Sally sat at the bar on a backless barstool sipping her badly mixed Pina Colada through a straw. She and her brother, Hermie, were in a dive called, ‘Sixes and Nines.’
“See anything you like?” He asked after chugging the last of his Budweiser.
Once a week, they’d travel to a nearby town and try to lure some narcistic wannabe stud into their motel room to fuck her for money. If possible, she liked them young and good-looking and why shouldn’t she? Sally was flat-out gorgeous—five eight with long platinum blond hair and baby blue eyes. She had the face of an angel and a body to tempt the devil.
Sally set her Pina Colada down on the maple bar, rotated on the stool and surveyed the room. “Not really.”
He hitched his head toward the billiard tables. “How about that young black guy playing pool.”
She turned toward the tall well-built Negro. He wore a white tee-shirt, jeans and flip flops. His closely cropped hair surrounded the top of his young, handsome face. He reminded her of Will Smith. She stared at him and liked what she saw.
Her mind wandered. She pictured herself on the pool table, naked with her legs wrapped around him, while he drilled her hot pussy with his chocolate-colored nine incher. But, of course, if he did fuck her, it wouldn’t be here. It would be back at the motel room where there wouldn’t be any witnesses.
The young man seemed to notice her scrutiny. He set the bottom of the pool cue on the beat up wood floor, leaned on the tip and stared back. The corners of his lips curled up into a friendly, but haughty smile.
She continued to stare, her face showing no emotion.
The pool player’s lips morphed into a pucker. His eyes glinted as he projected the kiss thirty feet to Sally’s lips.
She turned to Hermie. “Nah, he’s too cocky.”
“All the more reason to pick him.”
She glanced at him one more time.
He flashed a confident smile and winked.
She turned back to the little guy. “Afraid not. I’m in a white mood anyway. Besides, I had a nigger last week in Thayer.”
“Shush. You know you’re not supposed to say that word anymore. I know it’s hard to get used to, since Daddy used to say the ‘N’ word so often, but you have to watch it. Now, are you positive you don’t want him? He wants you. This is the fourth bar we’ve been to and this town isn’t that big.”
Sally’s nostrils flared with irritation. “Look, you just have to bring them to me. I’m the one who has to suck their cock and let them fuck me. I’m going to go to the powder room. After that let’s go to one more bar and if we don’t find what I want, we’ll call it a night.”
Sally rolled off her stool and as she strutted to the comfort station, dozens of men’s adoring gazes followed her seductive, swaying rear end.
She paused at the restroom doors—how classy, the side by side doors read holes and poles. Deciding she fit the former, she pushed the door that said holes open and entered the restroom. 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’s that?”
Warmth enveloped her cunt 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.
She unbuttoned his shirt, but he took over. As he removed his shirt, she unbuckled the belt and unzipped his fly. When he removed his shirt, he hung it on the hook over Sally’s dress and then gave her a hand with his denims. He slipped off his flip-flops and dragged his pants and shorts to the floor.
Now as naked as Sally, she sighed at the beauty of his slim, muscular, young body and the wonder of his ten-inch marvel. Ooh, this is going to be fun. She wanted to suck it, but they had less than fifteen minutes and she wanted his cock buried in her all of that time. Sally stroked him lightly. Leaning into the partition, he closed his eyes and his head lolled backward against the divider. “Where’s the condom?” Sally whispered.
“Hand me my jeans,” he whispered back.
After she’d handed him the jeans, he handed the condom to her, before discarding the garment. Sally unwrapped the condom and rolled it three quarters down his length.
Sally whispered once more. “If you’ll sit on the throne, I’ll give you a birthday offering.”
He chuckled softly and sat on the commode. Sally straddled his thighs and lowered her crotch so the tip of his pole rested at the entrance to her steamy hole. She licked her lips in anticipation. They both gasped as she eased herself down the length of his prodigious shaft. As his cock filled her, enlarging her, it felt as if something was stealing the very breath from her lungs as his girth filled and stretched her pussy. Words could not describe how good he felt inside her. Finally, when she hit bottom, she moved upward, then reversing, plunged his cock into her wet well once more.
She worked into a rhythm where her slow strokes languidly evolved into piston-like thrusts. The walls of her pussy, which had been screaming for friction, were now purring like a contented pussycat. She wrapped her arms around him, working her swollen bud against him. Breasts to chest, tongue to tongue, a major eruption seemed near.