Roberta Taylor - Nasty Sharon

Later Sharon sucked his balls while he fucked his wife.

At seven in the evening Sharon awakened from a deep sleep.

She first became aware of the smell of cunt. She was covered with it.

Then Lita plopped her into a bathtub full of warm water. She fell asleep again in the tub.

They rode to the motel in Bud's car, Sharon sandwiched between the couple. Bud's hand was between her legs, caressing her pussy. Lita was toying with her titties.

She was exhausted and felt sore all over. But the effects of the drug had dissipated. She now saw the world in sharp perspective.

"We'll all go in," Bud said, "and introduce Nancy and Harve to their new boss. Sharon, if you want me to, I'll get your little old white sports car tonight and park it in front of the motel. Now, I don't have to mention again that you aren't going to fuck around with any other boys or girls. Well, I've said it. All right?"

Sharon was too dazed to answer.

Bud parked at the lobby entrance and they got out.

Sharon entered first. She saw Nancy and Harve behind the counter, standing quite close together.

Nancy said sharply, "You're late for work, Sharon. I'll have to report this to Bud."

Then Bud and Lita appeared.

The five of them gathered at the desk.

Bud said, "Nancy, I'm making some personnel changes in the night shift."

Sharon saw their frowns. There was an expectant silence after he spoke, a dead quiet punctuated by the thumping beats of her heart.

The afternoon's drugged sexual workout had emptied her of volition. She sagged against the counter. She felt powerless to either accept or refuse the goodies Bud had heaped upon her. She felt like a statue being draped with ropes of pearls, hung with diamond arid emerald necklaces. She was simply there, a structure being adorned.

He said, "Nancy, you've worked hard here and you gave me no cause for complaint, but I'm going to change things."

The girl spoke up. "That's all right with me, Bud. I've decided that Harve could do a better job as manager than I can. I mean, it's better for a man to be in charge. People expect it."

Hearing this, Sharon understood the looks that had passed between Nancy and Harve this morning. Clearly, they had gotten together. Buddy? Apparently he had awakened Nancy's cunt to the existence of other males. But their intrigues were pointless. Only the whims of Bud Connoly mattered.

Bud said, "Sharon will be the new night manager."

Did they realize that she had succeeded as a whore?

Their startled gazes focused on her.

She heard the phone ring. Nancy and Harve seemed oblivious to it. The ring persisted. Responding automatically, Sharon rounded the counter and took the call.

She heard Tom Thornton's voice.

"I've got troubles, Sharon. I don't know what the hell is up, but I've been fired."

Sharon recalled their picnic at the fishing shack, their dreams of a plane and a sleeping bag.

She cradled the phone in her bosom. They were all staring at her – Nancy, Harve, Lita, Bud.

"Tom!" she cried, raising the phone again. "I don't understand."

"I don't either. But I wish you'd come over to my place and comfort me. I'm just around the corner. Twelve Liberty Street. My apartment is on the second floor."

"But, Tom, you're supposed to be Harris' best salesman! They can't fire you."

"It looks like they have. Well, there goes our airplane. And our sleeping bag."

"But why?"

"This afternoon an order came from one of the senior partners to get rid of me. Mr. Harris didn't want to, but he had no choice."

She understood now. The phone fell from her hands as she turned to Bud Connoly.

She said, "You told me you are a partner at Harris Motors."

He nodded. "I always invest my motel profits locally. I own parts of other businesses too."

"Did you tell them to fire Tom Thornton?"

"Sure I did. I told you, baby, I don't share with anybody. There isn't room in this town for both me and that young prick Thornton. See, I knew about you and him. I'm just making sure."

At last Sharon realized the meaning of whoring. It was selling out. It was being owned. It was being powerless.

Bud said, "Well, let's get to work. Nancy, how many quickies tonight?"

Sharon thought, If I can move one foot, take one single step, then I can walk around the counter.

Her legs responded sluggishly. She staggered, teetered, swayed, lunged. But she moved. She rounded the counter.

Bud asked, "Baby, where are you going?" If she could speak, emit one sound of her own free will, then she owned her tongue. She opened her mouth. She heard herself say, "Out."

She walked swiftly. The swinging front door seemed a baffler but, in falling against it, thrusting with all her strength, she opened it.

She stumbled out the drive to the boulevard. She let her feet find their way to Liberty Street. At Number Twelve she saw an outside stairway leading to the upstairs apartment. She climbed it and knocked on the door and Tom opened it.

She said, "I've been fired too."

She stood there in the doorway, hands fisted, nails cutting her palms. She could go back. The white car would be delivered tonight. In the morning she would deck herself out in new sports clothes from the Beachwear Boutique. All her dreams.

Tom said, "Maybe you can explain all this, Sharon."

Could anyone explain a nightmare?

She was eyeing the couch across the room. She kicked off her sandals and curled an arm behind her back to her dress zipper.

She walked slowly toward the couch.

She asked, "Which would you rather have, Tom? Me, or your job at Harris?"

"I can't have both?"

"The big money guy who runs this town says no."

She zipped her dress open, unhooked her bra, wrestled both off and dropped them on the floor. She skinned out of her panties and flung down on the couch.

She said, "Get naked, Tom, and hug me."

"Will you please explain, Sharon?"

"You explain something. First, tell me if you have a car."

He nodded. "An old station wagon. Mostly I've been driving Harris' demonstrators."

"Then explain how a sleeping bag in the back of a station wagon would feel different from one in an airplane."

He grimed. "You mean, we just take off? Start driving?"

"We'll see the world from a sleeping bag." She raised her arms toward him.

Tom tore off his clothes.

Lying on her back, she spread her legs. Tom climbed onto the couch between her thighs. She jacked up her legs as she had at the cabin, opening her hairy crotch to show him her gaping, defenseless pink slit.

He lowered his body, pressing his stiff cock into the portals of her twat. He eased in.

When the hot length was buried in her cunt, she sighed with contentment and wrapped her arms about his shoulders. She crossed her legs on his back.

She whispered, "I want you to fuck me very slowly, Tom. Take all night at it if you wish."

"I wish."

"Tom, where will we go? To Montana or Michigan? Minnesota, Mississippi…"

"To all of them. We'll stop the car every ten miles and fuck."

"That lovely word. Do it, will you?"

Gently he jogged in her juicing cunt. She thought of Buddy. Poor kid. Well, it was time she quit running his life.

She tightened her grip on the man in her arms and clung as, pumping his cock slowly in her drooling hole, he began their voyage into the future.