Dick Martin - Virginia_s wet lips

"Dammit, babe, why didn't you tell me. Oh, shit!" He slammed out of the door, buttoning his shirt as he went.

Virginia lay in the bed, feeling his cum drooling between her pussy-lips, wishing for all she was worth that she could expect a considerate, tender, loving male friend to come see her at one o'clock in the morning. But none was going to, and she knew it. She was still horny, the more so for the partial arousal of the idiot she still didn't know his name who'd just used her cunt in place of his ownleft hand to get his rocks off. But she was too tired and beat to get dressed and go out again. She got up and went into the tub, hooking up the hand-held sprayer and lying on the warming porcelain. She adjusted the flow and temperature of the water with her feet, then flipped the control on the sprayer to its hardest setting. She took the shower attachment and held it over her cunt, shuddering as the hard spray hit her clit and her sensitive pussy-lips. Virginia slung her legs up high, her feet. planted flat against the ceramic tiles of the far wall of the tub, and deftly directed the sharp, stinging pressure of the spray at her gash.

The pleasure rose rapidly through her lovely young body. She began to gasp for breath, her magnificent tits heaving, her nipples hardening fully, aching with the throb of her hot blood. The muscles of her thighs quivered and her calves tensed. Her belly contracted and her ass-cheeks began to shake on the porcelain. The tub bottom was rapidly beginning to fill with water, but she was aware of it only as another warm, feathery caress, this time against the smooth crack between her butt-cheeks, lapping at her asshole as if it were a knowing lover's tongue lightly rimming her shitter. She began to jerk her cunt upwards, toward thespray, even as she forced the hand attachment of the shower down closer. She moaned, jerking, and her free hand spread her bloated cunt-lips and exposed all the hypersensitive inner meat to the hot water's sharp pressure. She had the attachment down close to her cunt and then she was forcing it between the outer lips of her succulent pussy. She tensed all over, pushing herself back from the wall with a sudden surge of strength. She pressed the shower attachment in her puffy gash, grinding it against her rosy pussy-flesh, trying to force it into her hole the way she wished a man with a good, stiff prick would jam his cock up into her copper-fringed twat. I've got to find a better way to get the men I want. There's got to be a better way.

There was.

Virginia strode into the luncheonette on Third Avenue at Sixteenth Street, and saw her girl friend at their usual booth.

"Hi, Patrice."

"Hi. You look down this morning."

Patrice was a short girl, no more than five-two. She had a slender figure, the kind that men said nothing intelligible about, confining themselves instead to sucking sounds and slurps. She had perfectly straight, brown hair and a dark complexion, and an absolutely lovely face. She used little make-up, and managed to look about sixteen most of the time. She and Virginia had been friends for two years, since meeting at a neighborhood carnival the day after Virginia moved into her apartment.

Virginia slipped into the booth and lit herself acigarette. It was a warm morning, and she was wearing shorts and a matching blue blouse. Her hair was tied back. She was, as usual, braless, andshe leaned forward for the ashtray, her arm outstretched, her unfettered fits were clearly visible through the material. The waiter stared pointedly at her jugs till Virginia looked up at-him. Then he broke off the gaze."The usual, missy?" he asked, smiling."For both of us," Patrice said quickly.

He hesitated, but both girls gave him hard looks and he ducked back to the counter area and started calling out the order in Greek.

"Come on, Ginny," Patrice said warmly."Get it off your chest. You're carrying enough of a load there already, you know."

Virginia smiled wanly."I don't want to bring you down, Patrice."

"No, I want to hear about it," she insisted.

Virginia told her, quickly and briefly, what had happened the night before. Explicitly, too. They had few, if any, secrets between them. When she was done, Virginia said, "I'm sick of this bar-scene bit, Patrice. All I seem to find are losers. Half the guys look like creeps. The ones that are good-looking are either stuck on themselves or just want a quick fuck."

"Come on now, Ginny, there're always some good ones there. You know that, deep inside." She giggled delightfully.

"I know deep inside."Virginia's smile was a shadowy reflection of her friend's.

"Sure there are. Usually they're mated. Want to hear about Ralph again?"

Patrice shook her head. Virginia had met Ralph six months before. She'd thought she really found a winner. They'd gotten along fabulously and were perfectly matched in bed. And then she'd found out he was mated, had three kids and a dynamite little wife in Oyster Bay who, unfortunately for Ralph, wouldn't go down on him.

"Well, what do you want to do about it, Ginny?" The two of them suspended the conversation long enough for the food to be placed in front of them. When the waiter had passed out of earshot, Virginia sighed deeply.

"I just want to be able to find men worth something more than their clothes, men with brains and practice in using them, men with hard pricks who know how to make a woman feel good. I know they're out there, Patrice. I just don't know where the fuck to find them."

She stopped and looked down at her plate, at the scrambled eggs and the home fries and the sausages. The sausages always made her think ofshort, fat cocks, hard and well-lubricated and ready to fuck her.

"Maybe you're just going about it the wrong way, Patrice said around a mouthful of eggs.

"What do you mean?"

"Why don't you do what I do?" Virginia smiled.

"Already tried that, remember?"

"Sure, I remember. How could I forget?" Patrice was an art and music freak. She went to all the galleries and coffeehouses and museums and concerts. And she managed to come home with company every time. Virginia had tried it. She, too, had managed to come home with company every time. The problem was that all of the guys she met that way were very "sober" and "aware" and "serious" and "down to earth" and were always looking for a crutch or someone to tell all their life's hopes and problems. That is, when they weren't too stoned to stand up. And with them, flicking was only an incidental sidelight, something that was taken for granted. Virginia constantly felt uncomfortable with the men she met that way. She also had a knack of attracting the nuts in those crowds. The last one had gotten her to his loft a ramshackle, converted warehouse and then announced that all he wanted to do was have her pisson him.

Which was why he'd been the absolute, solemnly vowed last she'd met that way.

The two munched their breakfasts in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Patrice spoke.

"Hey, why don't you try one of those computer-dating outfits?"Virginia made a face.

"Well, why not?"

"Think about it, Patrice. If the guys who registered with them were anything but losers, they wouldn't have to go with the computer-dating outfits, would they, huh?"Patrice made a face, then giggled.

"They might say the same thing about the girls who register with them. Are you a loser, Ginny?"

Virginia thought about that for a minute.

"You know, you're right." She thought some more, then nodded.

"You've got a point there. Now all I have to do is pick the right one. Any ideas?"Patrice looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Ummmm, one of the guys at work was telling me about a new one. Says he heard it was pretty good. Wouldn't tell me anything else about it, though."