Mary Farcus - Wide open wife

The night was so warm that the door of the bar had been left open. Something vaguely country western-rock was on the juke bin, spilling loud sound into the neon-lit night as a man and a woman came out the door.

"My car's over here," the man said, one arm slipping around the woman's waist. She let him lead her, moving voluptuously against his encircling arm, but there were many little clues in their behavior that indicated they had just met. The man's quick, covert glances and the cautious breeziness of the woman.

The car was a large station wagon, the rear two-thirds of it jammed with boxes and cases. "I'm a salesman," he explained as he ushered her into the front seat with almost exaggerated, courtesy, then went around and got in the driver's side.

"By the way… I didn't catch your name," the man said as he shut his door and turned to look at the woman.

"I didn't throw it your way," she said coolly. There was a short silence during which the man digested her answer.

"My name's Tom," he finally said. "Tom Preston. And you're…"

"I'm your pick-up for the night," she said curtly. "I don't like names. I've forgotten yours already."

"Hey… what is this?" the man asked, trying to laugh off her barely friendly manner. "You with the CIA or something?"

"Uh-uh," she replied. "I'm just a horny woman who had you pegged for a good fuck, which I could really use. If you've got any thing else in mind, if you've got some macho plans for dissecting my personal history and tacking it up on your trophy board, forget it."

"Jesus Christ, lady," the man replied. "When do you whip out your razor and start slashing?" One of his hands had been inching along the seat toward the woman's shoulders, but it froze in place. He drew a little toward his side of the car. The woman noticed, and her voice softened.

"Don't get your masculine pride hurt," she said. "I just want all the cards on the table. I'm a big girl now. I don't have to kid myself that I've got an emotional thing going with every man I lay. Like I said, I'm horny and you look like a good fuck. I'm a good fuck too. You want me or not?"

Holy shit! Tom Preston thought nervously. A weirdo! I thought the whole thing was too easy!

He'd met the woman in the bar only a few minutes earlier. Right off the bat he'd wondered what such a good-looking broad was doing in a place like Fellini's. She didn't look like a hooker – a lot more class than that. But there was something overtly sexual about her. Tom took a chance and offered her a drink. She'd slowly looked him up and down and then nodded. He was still trying to work out his next play when she made it for him.

"Let's go some place more… private," she said, glancing up at him with her big, dark eyes.

"But you haven't finished your drink," he blurted, taken off balance.

"So? You sell whisky or something?"

Still hardly able to believe he'd made such a fast score, Tom had led the woman out of the bar toward his car, his eyes darting over her full, voluptuous figure. But now it wasn't so easy. Or was it?

Tom didn't really like women very much, but loved to fuck. Except for that, most of the pleasure he got out of sex was in seducing a woman. He liked to feel that he was tricking them, getting something for nothing. And now this bitch was spoiling his fun, making it all too easy, too cut and dried. But his eyes roamed automatically over her body as she sat next to him. Damned gorgeous piece! He had to admit. She was wearing a tight sweater that showed her nipples, suggesting she wasn't wearing a bra, or maybe one of those new, thin ones. Her tits looked big and round and firm, making his hands itch to touch them.

Neither Tom nor the woman had said anything for a few seconds, then she spoke again. "Okay, Tom," she sighed. "I can see you like names. So you can call me Hot Lips, and I don't mean the ones on my face."

Her very casualness began to have an effect on Tom, and his blood started to heat up as he realized all he had to do was just reach out and take her. No games this time, not even any pretending that he liked her. That might be nice. He could be just as crude as he liked.

"Okay, Hot Lips," he grated. "Let's see if you're just blowing smoke."

Turning in the seat, Tom started pushing up the girl's skirt with his left hand. She obligingly lifted her ass so he could hitch her skirt as high as possible. Smooth, sleek thighs clad in smoke colored panty hose were bared, and Tom quickly ran his hand up their insides, thrilled with the way the girl parted her legs to give him access to her crotch. His fingers dug hotly against her nylon covered mound, pressing into the soft, hairy flesh beneath the silky material.

Jesus! He thought. She's soaking wet already! It was true. Her panty hose, soaked through with her gushing cunt juices literally squished under the eager probing of his fingers. And now that her legs were parted, he could smell the heady aroma of her arousal.

"Told you they were hot," she murmured, her voice going husky as his fingers mashed against her cunt.

"Sure as hell looks promising," he grunted. "But let's get down to the bare facts."

Tom reached higher and tried to ram his hands under the top of the woman's panty hose, but she wriggled away.

"You'll tear the damn things, and they cost," she admonished him. "Let me do it."

Tom waited impatiently as she stripped off her panty hose. He noticed that a pair of bright colored panties were included; she'd stripped off both panty hose and panties together. She set them on the seat next to her, but they slid onto the floor. He might have told her, but his eyes were glued to her gleaming, bare thighs and the dark patch nestled between them.

The woman smiled for the first time as Tom's eager hand fumbled up the inside of her thighs, heading for her cunt. Once again she opened her legs to him, and a moment later his fingers were slithering through the hot wetness of her naked pussy slit.

"Christ, buddy, take it easy!" she yelped, the smile vanishing from her lovely face. "You're not supposed to make your own hole! There's already one there!"

Fighting to get himself under control, Tom slowed his hasty probing and let his fingers roam through the woman's slippery snatch for a few seconds. Then his middle finger found her cuntlips and slid smoothly inside. "God! You are hot!" he muttered as his finger was swallowed by her steaming cunt.

"You just keep pushing that finger in and out and I'll show you what hot really is," the woman panted, her hips grinding lewdly up against his impaling finger. Tom felt a moment of triumph as he realized the woman was beginning to react to his eager finger-fucking. Her breathing was quickened and her eyes were glazed.

Finally feeling in control of the situation, Tom tried to pull the woman's sweater up with his right hand, but it was too difficult a maneuver. Fortunately, the woman helped, pulling up the sweater herself, baring two of the most magnificent tits he'd ever seen. The firm, full mounds jutted out at him, the dark nipples already beginning to harden in expectation. Tom didn't keep them waiting. While his finger continued to drum in and out of the woman's tight cunt, he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, feeling it instantly harden against his tongue.

"Oh, God, I love sex!" the woman panted, writhing sensuously on the seat. Her hands eagerly grasped Tom's head, moving it from one soft tit to the other, urging him on. His finger was still slithering faithfully in and out of her cunt, her hot juices gushing out onto his palm. This bitch is on the way! He exulted.

But when he tried to fuck her, he got a surprise. She didn't say anything when he pulled his finger out of her sucking cunt and unzipped his pants. But when he worked his swollen cock out of his fly and tried to crawl between her gaping thighs, she suddenly pushed him away.