Curt Aldrich - Politician_s Teacher

"Ta-ta!" she smiled, wiggling her fingers to him, and walked out.

It took the salesman longer to regain his poise, then he exited the booth and returned to his station. Since no customers were waiting, he sat down behind his counter. His eye happened to fall on the morning newspaper which the other salesman had brought in and placed on the shelf under the counter.

A picture leaped from the front page.

"Son of a bitch!" the young man exclaimed under his breath, and snatched the paper to read the caption under the news photo:

Newly-announced gubernatorial candidate Lincoln Townsend and Mrs. Townsend, who will arrive in the city for a fund-raising dinner tonight.

The salesman jumped up and carried the newspaper to his gray-haired colleague who was putting suits on a rack.

"Did you see the broad I was talking to a little while ago?" the young man asked.

"Yeah. I noticed she came out of a dressing booth. What was she doing in there?"

"Maybe I'll tell you some time." The longhaired salesman held up the newspaper. "Now look at this."

"It's her!"

"Hell, yes! Lincoln Townsend's wife!"

"So? We get the ritzy crowd occasionally. Was she looking at some clothes for the next governor?"

"No comment, man!" the young fellow said, and grinned. "Just remember that you saw her, though… and remember she was coming out of that dressing booth, a woman in the men's wear department."

"Say, what is all this about?"

"Later. Maybe."

Still smiling, the younger salesman returned to his own section.

"It's been a long day," Linc remarked in a tired tone after leaving the hotel banquet room with his wife. They crossed the lobby toward the elevators.

Suddenly Bea froze.

"What's the matter?" Linc asked, stopping to look at her.

"Uuh… I forgot my cigarettes," she said. "I left them on the table."

"So what? We've got cigarettes upstairs."

"Yes, but I left my lighter, too. That nice gold one. You go on. I'll be upstairs in a few minutes."

Linc turned back toward the banquet room. "I'll get the fucking lighter," he said.

"No! I won't have you running errands for me!"

She hurried off, leaving her husband staring after her. He shook his head, walked to the elevator, and rode up to their suite.

Bea remained in the banquet room only long enough to give her husband time to leave the lobby, then exited and crossed to where a longhaired young man was seated-the young man she had seduced that morning. She had spotted him after leaving the banquet room the first time.

He had been watching her with a faint smile on his face.

"You!" she exclaimed in a hushed voice, her dark eyes snapping. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting to talk to you. Want a drink?"

"You know who I am!" she said, her knees suddenly weak.

"Yeah. I recognized your picture in the morning paper."

"Well?" She elevated her head haughtily.

"I make one hundred and fifty bucks a week."

Bea drilled her gaze into him. "You're crazy!"

He reached and grasped her hand as she started to turn away. "Not so very," he said. "Another salesman recognized you, too, and he saw you walk out of that dressing booth. Your husband's wealthy. He wants to be governor."

Bea glanced around frantically. No one seemed to be paying any attention to her and the young man. The crowd from the fund-raising banquet had all departed, she and her husband having been among the last to leave.

She sat down next to the clothing salesman.

"I don't have any money of my own," she said, "but maybe I can borrow some. A little."

"Five thou," the man replied.

"Never!"

"There's a guy who writes a gossip column in this town, and he hates your husband's party. So does the newspaper he works for. He'd pay me for a juicy item."

"You fucking filthy blackmailer!" Bea said sotto voce.

"Five thou," the man repeated.

Bea stood up. "I'll, uh, see what I can do."

The fellow took a folded slip of paper out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand. "Call me first thing in the morning."

He turned and walked out.

"Shit! Ooooh, shit!" Bea said under her breath and hurried back to the banquet room.

Sam Christopher was stuffing papers into a briefcase as he stood at a table near the lectern. He and Beatrice were the only ones in the room.

"Sam!" she exclaimed as she approached him.

The fleshy man looked up and grinned. "What can I do for the wife of the next governor?" he asked.

"Sam, I'm in terrible trouble! You're the only one I can turn to."

He squinted at her, "What is it, Bea?"

"I need money! Five thousand dollars! And I can't ask Linc for it."

Interest flashed in Sam's small blue eyes which were set in soft pouches. "Want to tell me what you need the money for?"

"I can't do that, either. Just take my word for it that I need it bad." She squeezed Sam's hand. "Please help me!"

"Okay," he said, looking intently into her eyes. "But I never give something for nothing."

"Wh-what do you mean?" she asked, her lip quivering.

"I want your ass."

Her eyes widened in helplessness, and then her shadowed lids lowered. "All right," she said in a barely audible tone.

In Sam's room, she sprawled froglike on the bed, her ass up, her breasts pressed against the mattress. She wore dark stockings and a black garter belt, that was all. Her knees were drawn far enough forward, and positioned sufficiently apart, so that her buttocks were split wide Open. The brown eye of her asshole stared at the stocky, nude man who knelt behind her, holding a jar of VaseLinc.

His cock, thick but stubby, curved forward from beneath his, large stomach. He dug his middle finger into the VaseLinc jar and, as the wife of his boss-the next governor?-watched from over her shoulder, he scooped out a large glob of lubricant.

He slapped the slippery substance between her fleshy buttocks and chuckled as he massaged it in. His rotating middle finger thrust the VaseLinc into Bea's suddenly supple and smoothly inviting anus. As he sank his finger deeper and stroked it in and out, his cock lifted to point at her backside like a cannon.

His finger made a lurid sucking sound as he pulled it from her well-oiled rear hole. Then he moved up, nestling the head of his prick where his finger had been.

His belly hung partially over Beatrice's bottom and bore against it as he pushed. His turgid glans opened her anus, and he glided on the thick. VaseLinc through her rubbery ring.

"Uuuuuuh!" she groaned as she felt her ass being plugged by his thick cock.

It didn't hurt. She just felt a fullness-a stimulating fullness!

Sam sank 'his cock deeper into her greased butt hole, and he watched it disappear, inch by inch. He gave her all five and a half inches. That was nothing, compared to the seven-plus inches which her husband frequently rammed up there. She squirmed a little, rotating her chute around him.

He placed his pudgy hands on her hips, spanning a garter strap with each set of fingers. He glanced into a mirror across the room and watched her stocking-clad legs flex, the pale flesh of her upper thighs contrasting exquisitely with the dark tops of her hose; He began to pump slowly, and he watched his greasy pole plunge and reappear, plunge and reappear, between the voluptuous rondures of her bottom.

"Ooooooh!" Beatrice cooed as she bumped her buttocks against the fat man.

He fucked her ass faster.

Though her asshole had been well used, it was still tight enough to thrill him, and the VaseLinc made her muscular aperture slippery-smooth. Her rhythmically clasping sphincter rippled up and down on his ridged prong. He watched her rosy rectal flesh pull out, then sink back in with each thrust of his buggering member. Her asscheeks quivered against his big belly.