Without warning, Bruce backed his tongue out of her vagina and nuzzled his cheek against her vaginal fur. Trish patted him on the back of his head and whispered throatily, "You call that eating quim? You must be on a fucking diet."
Bruce lifted his cheek from her pubis and made a lewd smacking sound with his lips. He called her a bitch in heat, waited for her laugh, then dipped his head once more and went about the business of satisfying her. He knew how. A few more seconds and she would start tearing up the bedsheet.
He palmed her buttocks and planted a resounding kiss on her belly button. Then his tongue stiffed and gouged her in the same place. Her stomach muscles quivered, her hips twitched, and her vagina felt suddenly soppy. Her eyes glazed, and distance edged her voice as she begged him for more. "Take me all the way! Eat me off, eat me off!
He stopped gripping her buttocks. His lips and tongue left her navel and crawled through her pubic jungle, over her alabaster thighs, down to the soles of her tiny feet. He kissed her painted toes with exaggerated tenderness, then worked his way back to her melting quim.
"Damn you!" Trish shrilled, taking him by the ears. "Stop stalling and get with it!"
She wanted his tongue in her crevice, and she wanted it now, not later.
Bruce buried his face in her fur and trapped her clit between his lips once more. He gave it a violent suck, and a loud moan ripped past Trish's lips. His teeth nipped. She shuddered, clutched the back of his skull, panted, "Give me a ride on your tongue now!"
Bruce wasn't in the mood for being rushed. He continued to tease her hot, pink clit. He sucked and gnawed, and at this juncture Trish was ready to gooff her stick.
"Don't tease me anymore," she begged. "Ah, Bruce, I can't take much more of this! Soothe me, Bruce, soothe me! Give me a cum, Bruce! Give me a wild cum!"
Bruce released his grip on her clit and sought to give her relief from torment. He placed one hand
T on either side of her melting quim, spread the lips wide, then bolted his stiff tongue between them.
Trish moaned with pleasure and felt the insides of her twat contract, pulling at Bruce's tongue the way it pulled at his cock whenever he banged her.
Wild.
"Eat, Bruce, eat." Bruce ate. Loudly. Ravenously.
Trish's sweat-soaked thighs scissored wider as Bruce licked at the inner walls of her twat with his tongue. Her juices flowed, wetting her passage, filling her cunthole.
It was fantastic.
Climax threatened, and now she coiled her legs around his neck and panted, "I'm almost there, Bruce! Make me come, make me come!"
Bruce moaned against her vagina. His hot breath made her shiver. Her hips rocked harder, and just when she concluded she would go crazy if she had to suffer another second of torture, Bruce tucked his index finger up her asshole and tripped her trigger.
Trish yelped, "I'm blowing, I'm blowing!" And she did…
Later, much later, she came up on one elbow and smiled at Bruce. "Thanks for the buggy ride."
Bruce didn't seem to hear her. He was staring at the pussy he had just finished devouring, shaking his head back and forth.
Trish frowned. "What's with the puzzled look and the head-shaking bit?"
Bruce kept moving his head from side to side. "I can't believe I ate the whole thing."
Trish giggled. "You watch too much television." She sobered abruptly, remembering the money they stood a good chance of finding today, wanting him out of the way so she and Gabe could get with it. She grabbed his stiff cock and said, "You ate. Now it's my turn."
"No," Bruce said quietly. "I don't want you to suck me off this morning."
She wet her lips. "What do you want?"
"Ass," he said. "I want some of your ass."
She winced inwardly and started to turn him down. A moment later she reconsidered, shrugged. She would give him what he wanted. Anything to get him out of her hair. Hopefully, after today she would never have to do anything with him again.
"All right, lover, my ass is yours."
"That's my little wanton. Make like a pooch."
Her eyebrows lifted. She started to lose her temper again. Taking a cock up her ass while lying on her back was bad enough, but the way Bruce wanted to do it was something else. Posing on her hands and knees while a man corked her in the butt made her feel degraded. She wanted to tell him to take a flying fuck at a galloping goose, but she didn't. A sigh seeped past her slightly parted lips. She assumed the all-fours position in the middle of the bed and said, "Start reaming. Just don't hurt me." It was a silly thing to say. He had never hurt her before.
Bruce promised to be gentle and moved into position behind her. He took his time. He eased the knob forward, and she felt it stretch and pass beyond her anal circle. She dug her fingers into the rumpled bedsheet and said, "Easy does it."
Bruce worked his shaft in and out, in and out, until she was moist, then rammed his cock all the way home.
Trish grunted, then purred, "You're in. Now do your thing, cowboy; slap the pork to me. Do it. Fuck me!"
Bruce did. His fingers bit into the soft flesh of her buttocks. His mouth made contact with the back of her neck, tongue licking. Trish fisted more of the bedsheet beneath her and listened to the animalistic grunts and asthmatic wheezes that belched out of him as he continued to saw his cock in and out of her anal passage.
Soon, she told herself as she made her hips move faster. A few more strokes, and he'll blow his mind… and his nuts.
"Pop," she encouraged, aware that talking to him always helped to create a fast finish. "Make like a volcano and erupt inside my ass."
A moment later he did.
And then relaxed.
"Beautiful," Trish murmured as his softening sausage wormed its way clear of her anal passage. "Simply beautiful!"
"For me, yes, but how about yourself, little! wanton? Did you come?"
"Don't I always?" The lie rolled easily from her lips. "No matter how you take me, I always get my jollies."
Bruce slapped her playfully on the ass and laughed. "Well, you won't be getting any more from me today, hon. I've got to head for town. I don't want to be late for my appointment with the banker. I need that loan so I can keep you in champagne."
Trish turned her head away to conceal a smile, thinking, If Gabe and I luck out and find that bag of bread today, you can take that cheap champagne I've been guzzling and donate it to Stella Roller's Support-Your-Local-Whorehouse Fund, because I won't be around to drink it anymore. Not this pussycat. Just let me get my hands on that half-million bucks, put the screws to Gabe, and I'll be long gone, hayseed. A shiver ripped through her body. Bright lights, here comes Trish Asher!
"Speaking of champagne, you'd better bring another case back with you. I'm down to three bottles again."
"You drink too much."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "I also fuck and suck too much, but I don't hear you complaining about that."
Bruce laughed and padded into the bathroom. Trish slipped out of bed and crossed over to the dresser. She used the end of a rat-tail comb to fish a dead mosquito out of the glass she had used two nights before and poured herself an early morning drink. She toasted her image in the mirror by saying, "Here's looking at you… heiress."
She turned away from the mirror and took the bottle with her. She sat on the edge of the bed and tripped while she sipped. Visions of diamonds, tailor-made dresses and rubbing elbows with the jet set danced through her head. With five hundred thousand dollars in her kick, she would become an instant somebody. No more peeling, no more hustling to make ends meet, no more picking shit with the chickens.
Trish's mental trip ended abruptly as Bruce emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, and announced, "I'm ready to take off. Would you care to come with me?"