Austin Williams - Widespread whore

uncontrollable events which propelled her downward? She didn't know. All she did know for certain was that suddenly she was very tired. Physically tired. Mentally exhausted. Whew!

She didn't feel that she could spread her legs one more time for some drunken lout to creep between them with his rusty old cock, poking into her pussy. Why the hell should she continue? Well, getting down to the basics, why should she continue to live? God knows life had been nothing but one searing pain after another.

She felt somehow cheated. Somewhere, everywhere, there were women no more intelligent and certainly no better looking than she, and these women enjoyed the security and comfort of a real home with children and a husband. Where in God's name had she missed out? It was not by her own plan that she found herself tied to a relatively cheap whorehouse.

She examined her motives. Was she fucking and sucking and allowing herself to be tortured for money? Wasn't there an easier and a more satisfying way to earn money? There had to be. Yet, it was a habit. No! That was a lie. She did it, damn it was hard to act… she did it because she liked it. Somehow she liked the idea that her cunt, her tits and her mouth held power over men. But what good was the power? It really wasn't worth a pinch of monkey shit!

Tuesday dropped off into a troubled sleep. She dreamed that she was soaring through the clouds until she descended and found herself standing in a sunlit backyard.

The place was unfamiliar, and yet there was an air of homeyness about it. Tuesday felt at ease. About the borders of the yard were flowers, and she noted with some surprise that she was wearing a big apron with giant pockets overflowing with clothes pins.

Well, for God's sake, she was hanging out wash. That's funny, she thought. I never washed anything in my life. But there it was, a whole basketful of clothes, and there were… diapers? Sure as hell! Wonder whose kid it could be?

"Mommie!" called a small voice which was followed by an equally small boy around the corner of the house. "Mommie, come and help! Come and help!"

The kid had to be about two, no more. And what this "Mommie" shit? Jesus Christ! It must be my kid. Tuesday choked as she tried to swallow. A kid. My kid! Damn!

"Come and help!"

Help who? Daddy? Jesus, wonder what Daddy is like? Tuesday left her basketful of clothes and hurried around the corner of the house. The car in the drive was new, and there was a man pulling a child's swing outfit out of the trunk. When the man stood up it was… BICK!

"Hi, honey," he called. "Got the swings for Teeny." He kissed Tuesday on the cheek, and slipped an arm about her waist. "Let the stuff just lie there. I'll work on it after while. Heck. I haven't seen you since this morning."

Tuesday felt choked up. She nuzzled up close to him.

Then they were on the veranda. Their son was asleep.

Bick held his arms out to her. She sat down on his lap.

Then he kissed her. It was such a warm, gentle kiss that it made tears well up inside her. God, how sweet it was to have Rick to love. What a strong, wonderful man he was! Somehow, he made everything all right.

He kissed her again, and as he lowered his head to kiss and lick about her ears and neck, he allowed his hands to stray. One found its way up her dress where he thrust it into the hot hollow of her crotch, and the other he cupped about her left breast.

Tuesday was not wearing a bra, and his touch through the lightness of her dress was almost as stimulating as if he had been right with her, skin to skin. Her passion flamed.

"Oh, Bick!" she whispered against his ear. "I want you so much!"

"And I want you, too," he said thickly.

"Let's go inside. Let's go to our bed!"

"Yeah, I guess we should," he smiled. "Old married people shouldn't be having sex on the front porch!"

They went into the house, hand in hand. Married! God, when had it all happened? Tuesday didn't know how, nor could she recall when. But she was very certain that she was grateful, and happier than ever in her whole life. God had not forgotten. He had somehow brought her and Bick together, and it was good to be alive.

In the bedroom, they stripped off naked, and she was thrilled to see his cock was standing straight up when he got his clothes off He still got a hard-on thinking about the pussy he was about to get.

Slowly, she sank back against the softness of the pillows, letting her body sink luxuriously into the bed. He lay beside her, wrapping his right leg over her body. He smothered her mouth, her neck, and her titties with kisses. Flames leaped and burned within her cunt.

She wanted his meat inside her, and she tried to wiggle herself under him to bring his cock closer to the opening of her snatch. She could feel the throbbing of his dick, and it was wet and hot against her. Keeping his mouth locked on her titty and his knee between her legs, he rolled himself on top.

Then in a sudden and unexpected move, he jerked his mouth away from her nipple, and raised himself with his hands on either side of her body.

She looked down at his crotch and saw… Holy God!

The cock was gone. There was only a ragged, dripping stump of what had once been a dick, and the blood gushed from the open wound. Her eyes swept upward to see his face, and it was… Lance! My God!

Lance was on top of her. His dickless body dripping its blood on her stomach while her burning pussy called and cried for Rick's cock.

Tuesday screamed. Piercing the air with the shrill tones, she gasped for more breath and

screamed again. Then she felt her body being shaken violently.

"Wake up!" Freda commanded. "Hey, wake the hell up! You're having a nightmare."

When Tuesday opened her eyes, she saw Freda hovering over the bed, and she heard the order to wake up. It was confusing. She had certainly been in bed with Rick. She had felt his kisses, savored the heat of his cock lying next to her body. Her pussy was truly wet with the passion fluids. And there was the child! Oh, Jesus, and there was the cock stump hanging on Lance's bleeding body.

A dream! A terrible nightmare!

She reached out and clung to Freda. "Jesus, I had such a terrible dream," she sobbed. "I thought I was married and had a child, and… "She began to cry in earnest.

Freda laughed a little bitterly. "Married, huh? Well, that's about as bad a nightmare as anybody could have. Well, don't worry. It was only a dream and it's all over."

Tuesday began to get control of herself. "Yeah, you're right… it is all over isn't it? Damn, you know for a minute or two there, I was having such a wonderful time. Had my own home. Even had a baby. Ha! That's a laugh. Me, with a baby. I'd be a hell of a mother."

Freda had lighted a cigarette for herself, and she applied the match to another which she offered to Tuesday. "I don't know. You might be a hell of a lot better mother than some of these church-going, hymn-singing hypocrites who show up for preaching on Sunday after they've fucked every

man in the neighborhood in a drunken swap orgy on Saturday night. They're the lowest bitches on earth."

"I don't know," Tuesday said, puffing on the cigarette. "I doubt if they're lower than the trick-shot artist in a whore house;"

"Bullshit!" Freda said. "At least we're honest. Hell, what's dishonest about being a whore? We're just what we claim to be. Those motherfuckers are out singing 'Jesus Loves Me' and doing things in private that would turn your stomach. Listen, not only that, but you remember that every time a respectable housewife gives away a piece of pussy, she's taking the food right out of your mouth. You're okay, and so am I. Hell, go back to sleep, and don't be so hard on yourself."

"Yeah. I guess you re right," she said. "We are pretty good folks."