Chapter 3

Lucille Beldon followed the bellhop into the room, checking the tautness of his buttocks in the tight pants.

"Will that be all, Ma'am?" he asked, unable to avert his eyes from her huge breasts. She was a little over the hill, he thought, but still a damn good-looking cunt, something he sure as hell wouldn't turn down if she decided to offer it.

"No," she said, handing him a twenty. "A bucket of ice, a quart of good Scotch, and two glasses from the dining room. I hate the fucking glasses they put in these rooms. The twenty's yours if you hurry." "Yes, Ma'am!" he said with sincere emphasis, and dashed from the room.

Quickly she hung the few things she had brought with her in the closet, undressed and slipped into a thin, completely transparent negligee. The top and panties that should have gone with it went, instead, into a drawer.

She stretched across the bed, her body appearing nude through the gown in the room's half-light. She surveyed herself, the perfection of her body, in the full-length mirror across from the bed. At forty she was still a beautiful woman. Her body was full-figured, but it had little of its youthful resilience. The lush tits were heavy, yet they retained their cleavage even while she lay on her back, propped up on a pillow. The nipples were sharply contoured and pink, set off with huge aureoles, tinted a purple hue by the surge of passion she always aroused in her body by looking at herself.

The ample curves of her belly and hips molded into the dark patch of her pussy where it was clearly outlined and amplified by the gown's material. Her stomach was gently rounded, with a deep navel set in the tanned skin, and a mass of crisp black curls at her crotch.

It was a good and beautiful body. It had given her money and power and it would give her mare. But right now she wanted sex for just herself. Sex for the sake of sex. That was one of the prime reasons she desired money and power, so she could dictate the course of her own desires and satisfy her every whim.

The bellhop would do for a start, she thought, he was young, good-looking, black, and obviously interested. It would be a good weekend full of laughs, kicks and sex, and all oft at her direction.

She needed these little holiday weekends away from the watchful eye of her husband, Roscoe, and the pressure of keeping her own abundant sexual desires under wraps lest they mark a weakness in her rather than a strength.

For a long time now she had managed to get away at least twice a month. And every time it had been something new, exciting, and different to feed her need for turning her sexual fantasies into reality.

The twenty dollars she got from them meant nothing to her. It was the excitement and the danger of selling her body to unknown men that she wanted.

She had just finished fucking the brains out of her third pickup when they came. There were five of them, four blacks and a white. They were all dressed to the teeth, mean, and mad.

"Mama, we don' like no free-lancin' in this neighborhood." He was the biggest, with an ugly scar that ran down the side of his cheek, over his thick neck, and into his collar. She hoped he'd be the first because she was sure his cock would be huge and practiced.

"I don't know what the fuck you mean," she said, calmly buttoning her dress, careful to give them all a good solid look at the size and lushness of her tits first.

"Ah mean you're a queen cunt but you don't fuck this neighborhood without you first workin' for one of us. Do you dig that?" "Fuck you!" she said, and spit in his face.

He only smiled as be slapped her with his left hand and balled his right into a fist to slam into her belly. She flew across the bed and, in an instant, they were holding her.

"So you want some fucking huh, some fuckin' for bread? Well, don't let it be said we don't pay for our fuckin' just like anybody else." Scarface dropped his pants and shorts to his ankles but not before he'd pulled a bill from his pocket.

"What are you going to do?" she said, feigning fear and hoping that they wouldn't see the juices running like a river from her cunt.

"This here's a five. That's a buck from each of us. Now that outta make you feel good-it's a buck apiece more than we usually pay. But then you look like a real quality piece." He wadded the bill up, spit on it, and rolled it into a ball between his palms. When it was the size he wanted he shoved it up her cunt. Then she saw the huge, black cock, its purple head massive as he leaned forward and, in one stroke, buried it inside her ready cunt. His cock, full and hard with a bulging, throbbing head, sent the wadded bill far into her belly.

She loved it.

All five of them fucked her again and again until she was a bone weary mass of bruises and semen...

Another time, she had decided to try for kicks in Philly, instead of New York. On the way down a motorcycle gang passed her, screaming and careening around both sides of her car. In a second the idea came to her and she followed them.

When they stopped in front of an old ramshackle tavern she parked across the street. Twenty pairs of narrowed, disbelieving eyes stared as she entered and walked straight to the bar. She ordered a shot of whiskey, and downed it neat. Then she turned to the room and declared, in a loud, clear, ringing voice, "I suck, I fuck, and I've got twenty-four hours. Who's first?" They stripped her in a back room arid laid her out on a pool table. They all disrobed from the waist down, several of them not bothering to remove their boots, and stood around waiting their turn. There was never less than two of them on her at one time, and quite often there would be three.

One would be fucking her cunt or ass, whichever he hit first, and another would be reaming her throat, while a third straddled her belly, enclosing her huge tile over his cock and humping between them until he would splatter the bottom of her chin with his cum.

She had started to admit to herself that men in their twenties, late teens, and even in their early thirties could take their pick of pussy much younger and much better-looking than she was. She longed to get into some of the orgy action that she knew existed with the young crowd. And even though she had the money for such good times, she knew it was Roscoe's money. Without Roscoe she would be totally on her own, and she wasn't up to that big a gamble.

Roscoe was handsome, fairly young, and very rich when she met him. Before the wedding she dreamed of the good times they would have, and the good sex. It never happened.

Just before this trip they had gone through another knock-down, drag-out fight about sex. It had started the same way and it had ended sit had always ended.

"I know everything you do, Lucille," Roscoe said, trying his best to be firm with her. "And I've never said anything about it. There isn't really much I can say, I guess. I know you drive to New York every weekend or so, and pick up men. But I won't have it right here in the house." "You won't, huh?" she said.

"No. And I mean it." He had caught her with one of the houseboys. It wasn't the first time, but he insisted that it be the last. If it wasn't, he told her, then no matter how much he needed her, he would divorce her.

"Well, weekends a couple of times a month aren't enough, Roscoe," she said, trying With the force of her will and the beauty of her body to force him to look directly at her.

"Lucille, please?" "Please what? Please don't run around naked? Why not, for Christ's sake? Does it excite you too much, Roscoe? Does it give you a big whopping hard-on? Shit! If it does give you a hard-on, I never noticed." "Be serious, Lu. You know I..." "Yes, I know all about your problem. But I've got my own problem. I want it. I need it, and I'm going to get it more often than weekends. Unless, that is, you want to start getting it up and fucking me. C'mon, Roscoe, fuck me!" She jumped on the bed, lay back and stroked her tits, and spread her legs wide.

"I've wasted years on you, Roscoe. And now you know you've got me... I'm too old to leave you now. Or at least you think so." He looked at the dark patch of her cunt and felt the stirrings of desire for her well up inside himself, desire that he knew he couldn't fulfill.

"Oh no!" she shouted, seeing the look he gave her, and the movement he made toward her. "I don't want your tongue. I don't just want to be sucked and slobbered over. I want to be fucked. I want some big, stiff, hard cock rammed up inside me. I want to feel hot cum shooting up my snatch. This snatch, Roscoe. The one that you can't seem to fill." With her fingers she pulled the lips of her cunt wide apart so he could clearly see the raw, red gash. Then she grabbed a candle from the nightstand and shoved it far up her pussy.

"Like this!" she shouted. "This is how I want to fuck!"

She withdrew the candle and rammed it home again. Then faster and faster she worked, making the candle appear and disappear inside the walls of her sucking, velvety sheath.

He bowed his head, shaking it from side to side. "Yes, yes, all right" he said, a gasp in his voice. "Suck them, fuck them! All of them. Do what you want!" He sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

As always, at the end of an argument, she would feel pity for him. Underneath the surface hate and frustration that permeated their relationship, there was a strange brand of love.

"Roscoe," she said, dropping the candle beside the bed and holding her arms out to him. "Come, my darling. Come to me!" He moved to his knees and crawled up between her legs. She grasped his head and guided it to her cunt. She hunched her hips upward, accepting his mouth and tongue with her softness.

He extended his tongue, slipping it lightly around the gentle contours of her cunt lips. She groaned and pushed his head into her gash. Cunt juice trickled out to mingle with his saliva. He slipped his tongue inside, tasting the sticky heat of her vagina. She shoved her cunt more firmly against his mouth, plastering her glued-up lips to his.

Slowly she let the passion build in her until she was at a peak It never changed, she thought, it always began and ended the same way. And it never ceased to amaze her that during his sucking of her cunt she could reach and feel his cock at any time and it would always be soft.

When she knew she was about to come she turned him over, mashing her cunt down, grinding its musk into his face, feeling the orgasm up through her body as his throat worked to swallow every last drop of her heated juices.

She then cradled him in her arms, his head on her breasts, and thought how good it would be to get back into the city the following weekend and feel the strength of a hard cock.

She had moved off the bed and into the bathroom when she heard the knock on the door. "Come in!" She heard the door open, waited nearly a minute and called, "Fix me one, will you?" "Yes, Ma'am," the bellboy answered.

She fluffed her hair in the mirror, tightened the belt beneath her breasts to make them rise even higher, and walked into the other room.

"Jeeeesus, Mama!" he said, barely able to avoid dropping the glass when he saw her.

"When you were a little boy did you ever think or dream about a beautiful white woman coming out of nowhere and raping you?" "I don't really remember, but the thought is hittin' me real strong right now, Ma'am." "You have a good body. Is your dick as good?" She stared at him, waiting for an answer that didn't come. "Well, take your clothes off and let's see." He did as she told him to do. Under her watchful eye, his shyness faded with each piece of clothing. As he undressed she registered her approval by licking her lips sensually and stroking her own body through the material of her gown. It excited him to watch her, get excited. His cock rose, hardening to a gigantic length, bobbing in front of his belly, "You're a magnificent animal," she purred, moving toward the bed.

"And you're a gorgeous cunt," he replied, following her.

His body was like a corded ebony stalk as it moved over her. One gigantic hand roamed over her body, removing the gown. He was gentle, too gentle. She reached up and slapped him hard across the face. It had the desired effect and, in one motion, he ripped the material to shreds, leaving her naked beneath him.

He gasped when he saw the full extent of what he was about to have. "Your body is soft, beautiful" he said, rubbing at the cushiness of her cunt, spreading the labia, caressing the inner flesh with his fingers. He stroked her clitoris and the huge puffed lips of her cunt. As he slipped a finger into her, her hips jerked in spasms. Her muscles milked his finger, urging it further and further into her.

"You want me to fuck you now?" he growled. "You want my cock in you now?" "Yes, you son-of-a-bitch," she growled in return, grabbing his head between her hands and kissing him violently, probing the hotness of his mouth with her tongue. "Give me your sweet black dick!" Unable to resist the musky smell of her cunt, he wanted a taste of it. He pulled her legs up over his shoulders and burrowed into the damp gorge of her pussy. The hairy lips encased his mouth, his nose, his chin as he dipped his tongue into the slit. She spread her thighs wider, pulling his head with her hands, urging him deeper and deeper into her cunt.

He gasped as his tongue lapped at the swollen knob of her clit. He swirled it around and around the gash, licking eagerly at the honeyed juices he found there.

She moaned, deeply wishing that he wasn't alone, wishing that she had a hard cock like his in every orifice of her body. Her hips jerked wildly under the sweet assault of his mouth. She fumbled for his cock, wanting it, wanting to feel and pound it.

He understood and moved his body around until his knees were astraddle her head and his cock was brushing her ruby lips. With her tongue and hand she worked the foreskin back and forth across the knob. She began to lick the head, skinning it back, then licking and savoring the sweet taste of it. She loved it, reveling in the hotness, the hardness of it. She fisted the staff and began to suck harder on the huge, swollen knob.

She came, her hot juices drowning his tongue and his mouth. It prompted his own orgasm. Hot cum, salty and thick, flooded her throat and her belly.

But still they didn't stop. He was her kind of man. Gushes of cum had flowed from his cock but still it was hard and throbbing, wanting more.

"Put it in me!" she screamed, raking his body with her nails, dragging him around into position. "Stick that fuck stick in my cunt!" Suddenly it was his hot flesh against hers, his coarse pubic hair against her hot sheath. His hot cock ramming, gliding, sliding in and out of her, his hard flesh rubbing inside her cunt. She ground her pubic bone against his.

"Oh Mama! Oh Mama!" he gasped. "What a fuck! What a fuck you are!" Their hips swung together in a long arc. Frantic now, their loins slapped noisily together, knees bent, legs swinging, bone against bone, flesh against flesh.