"Orgasm, you dumb shit!" Connie said angrily to the equally irate image of herself in the mirror. "Shit, what a dumb fuck Jason is."
Connie spun around, glanced over her shoulder, spied the nifty curve of her ass in the mirror. What the hell was wrong with her? She was beginning to fear that none of her fuckers would remember how really hot she looked. Christ, she knew she had a full, fleshy ass on her. All the guys she had fucked had told her that she had the hottest ass in town.
Connie frowned. Maybe they didn't mean that literally. Maybe it was just a figure of speech. Like: "Connie's the best cock-sucker in town." Or: "Connie's the best lay in town." Maybe they just said all those things to make her feel good.
She studied her ass in the mirror. She wiggled her buns, convincing herself that she did have a good ass, that it was the type of ass most girls envied and most men whistled at as she stooped over to put groceries into her car.
Now that she had studied herself in the mirror, Connie knew that she'd strike it rich with some man tonight. In a town full of five thousand people, half the population had to be male, and at least half of those males had to have pricks that would come erect at the sight of her cunt, ass and tits.
She vowed to try again, this time the nice-girl approach. She picked up the phone, lay back in the bed. She kicked off her panties and spread her legs.
"Hello, may I talk to Reverend Worthington please?"
Connie moved her hand down across her belly and into the moist meat of her cunt. Her pussy was oozing with juice, making slushy noises like a boot pulling out of mud.
"Hello, Reverend Worthington," Connie said sweetly. "This is Connie Ryan."
"O-Oh, hello, Connie, er, I mean Miss Ryan. What can I do for you? Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"Yes, I am, Worthie dear. I want you to come over and listen to my problem."
"Well, er, as you know, Miss Ryan, the church social is tonight and the whole congregation will…"
"But it won't take yew long to hear me out, Worthie dear. Here, listen to how bad my problem sounds."
Connie placed the telephone between her thighs as she rubbed her cunt-lips squishily over the phone, sending her need for cock all the way across town and into Reverend Worthington's ear.
"Connie! Er, Miss Ryan… Miss Ryan!" Connie heard Reverend Worthington's voice pleading between her thighs. She lifted the phone to her ear.
"Did you hear my problem, Worthie dear?"
"M-Miss Ryan. What was that noise?"
"It was my cunt, Worthie dear. And my pussy has a problem. It needs a cock – real bad. Wanta bear it again?"
Connie heard Reverend Worthington gasp.
"Miss Ryan, your problem does sound… er, urgent. It's just that I'm really tied up with the church social. Why don't you see me after church tomorrow? Say, around noon or so. I'll…"
"Goddamn you sonofabitch! Didn't you hear how much my cunt needs a Goddamn fucking? I'm hot. I wanta fuck!"
"Now, Miss Ryan. No need to get hysterical."
"Fuck you, Reverend. That's the last time that I'll ever beg you to fuck me."
"Now, don't be hasty, Miss Ryan. I'm sure…"
"I'm sure, too! I'm sure that you're never gonna get into my cunt again. Good-bye and amen, Worthie dear!"
She slammed the phone on the Reverend Worthington as he was babbling: "Now, Miss, Ryan, I'm sure that your situation…"
Jesus, Connie realized, she had just struck out. Who the hell was she gonna get to fuck her on a Saturday night in a hick town like Weedville? Well, she was determined to get cock if she had to go out to Tom Brewster's dairy and grab one of his Holstein bulls.
Connie slithered into a loose mini-dress minus bra and panties. She was gonna find cock, if she had to stop the first guy she met and beg him to fuck her.
Dabs of perfume behind the ears, on the nipples, underarms and between the legs. She grabbed her purse and headed angrily for the door.
She opened the door.
A boy stood there, his hand ready to push the doorbell.
"Oh, hello, Miss Ryan. I came to collect for the paper. I missed you every night this week. I'm sure glad you're home tonight."
Connie stared at the boy. He looked delicious, especially when she was as hot to fuck as she was tonight. Well, she had promised herself that the first person with a cock between his legs was going to be the first guy she asked for a fuck. But a boy? Christ, she wondered if he could even get it up.
But there was that itch between her legs. She had struck out on three of the very best fuckers in Weedville and she just bad to get some cock to scratch the itch between her legs.
"And I'm glad you found me tonight," Connie said, smiling at the boy. "Why don't you come in?"
CHAPTER TWO
Before the boy could answer, Connie had her arm around him, closing the door behind them with her foot. She made sure his arm was nestled against her tit.
"Why don't you sit on the couch while I make out a check?"
The boy sat down on the edge of the couch. Connie sat down in an easy chair across from him. She pulled her check book out of her purse.
"What's your name, young man?"
"Tom."
"What, no last name?"
"Tom Trimble."
Connie thought a moment. "Are you Lucas Trimble's son?"
"Yes, I am, Miss Ryan."
Connie chuckled to herself Lucas Trimble was the mayor of Weedville. In fact, for as long as she could remember, he had been the only mayor of Weedville.
Connie studied Tom's face as he gazed up at the ceiling nervously. He was a red-headed kid with freckles. Lanky frame just like his father's. Blue eyes, thin lips which he had obviously inherited from Lucas' deceased wife Mavis Trimble.
"How much do I owe you, Tom?"
"Ten dollars for this month, Miss Ryan." Tom looked at Connie and noticed her tits. No male could resist noticing her tits.
Connie smiled at Tom and leaned back in the easy chair, her check book in hand. She spread her legs, wondering how much of her thighs and cunt young Tom Trimble could see from his position on the couch.
Tom opened his mouth in awe. God, she wasn't wearing any panties! And he could see way, way up between her legs. Shit, he'd never seen a cunt before – unless you counted his sister's. Tom's brow beaded with sweat as he moved his legs nervously. Shit, if she would just spread her legs another couple of inches, he knew that he would be able to see her cunt.
As Connie began writing in her check book, she spread her legs farther apart, her mini-dress inching higher.
Tom gasped, then shut his mouth quickly. Shit, he didn't want her to hear him. Oh, please.
Miss Ryan. Open up just a little more. I can see the hair, but I can't see your – oh, my God! There it is – her cunt!
Slyly, Connie glanced over the edge of her check book, pretending to write. She watched Tom squirm, and she was amazed at how delicious he leaked to her.
"Oh, damn it, Tom. I made a mistake. If you'll wait just a moment – I know how busy you are – I'll write another check out for you."
"O-Oh, that's all right, Miss Ryan. I'm not going nowhere tonight."
Connie smiled at him, then tore out the check. She began writing again; this time she really spread her legs apart.
Oh, gosh, Tom thought, his flesh feeling clammy. Oh gosh! Oh, gosh! I can – I can see all of her CUNT! My gosh!
Tom sat up straighter, his hard-on paining him as it throbbed against his fly. He sat at an angle to Connie, hoping that she wouldn't look up now so that he could straighten out his prick, move it from his pants leg so that the head pointed towards his belly button. His palms were sweaty and his fingers trembled.