Betrayed 2(225)

She was on the motel bed on all fours. I was behind her, digging my fingers into her fleshy hips and ramming my cock so hard into her hairy box that her big titties flounced beneath her. I slapped her again, so hard it hurt my hand. She buried her face in a pillow and squealed, then begged me to do it again.

Dottie loved having her ass slapped when I was fucking her from behind, and her nipples pinched until they turned purple when I was fucking her from the front. It was fun at first, the doling out of pleasure and pain. Now, the cute was wearing thin. Fucking her was becoming a chore. I had hung in there, though. I’d only have to fuck her a couple more times, then we’d hit Crown and I’d never have to see her again.

“Fuck me harder… Carl... harder…” she moaned, pushing her plump ass against me. “Harder… ram that big cock into me… harder…”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed her hips. I dug my fingers in hard and pulled her backward into me as I thrust my cock into her. She took all ten inches of me like a trouper and begged for more.

Eddie was right about one thing: Dottie was not my type, though I didn’t mind fucking her, at least at first. A little variety never hurt anyone.

Personally, I liked my women tall and thin, with big tits and a shaved cunt, although a little hair down there didn’t bother me so long as it didn’t get in my teeth or in my way.

I loved to eat pussy, but I hated pussy hair. That was another thing about Dottie. She had a fucking bush that looked like a goddamn beaver down there.

The first time I ate her out I was like Moses parting the Red Sea, only I was parting dark pubic hair trying to find her cunt. I gotta admit, it was worth the hunt. For a forty-something chunky girl, Dottie had a picture-perfect pussy and knew how to use it. It was pink and tight and smelled like strawberry douche. I’ve fucked worse cunts, though never by choice. Sex was just another of the tools of my trade. I didn’t do guys, but women, so long as they were clean and willing, I’d fuck them all if it helped get a job done.

Dottie was getting close to cumming. I could tell because she always started moaning a minute before, like a siren ramping up to blast out a warning.

“Fuck me… Carl… fuck me… I’m cumming… cum in me… Carl…”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said with a thankful sigh that it was almost over. I clenched my muscles and got on my toes to will the orgasm from deep in my balls. I started slamming into her like a jackhammer. The sound of my hips hitting her fat ass mixed with the squeal of her siren moan.

She buried her face in the pillow and pushed back against me. I gripped her hips and thrust my cock all the way in and held it there as I came, filling her with my hot milky cum as she gushed her tangy juices over me. The air in the tiny motel room became hot and dense with the scent of our sex.

Dottie moaned one last time and let herself go limp. I pulled my cock out her and wiped it on her ass. She giggled when I swirled the head around her asshole. Dottie loved getting it in the ass. Oh well, maybe next time.

She rolled onto her back and put her hands on her big tits to give them a satisfied squeeze. They were like big white melons with dark areolas the size of softballs and plump nipples the size of thimbles. She kneaded her fingers into the flesh and sighed. She spread her legs. Her thick bush trailed down the sides of her cunt toward her asshole. The hair was soaked and matted with cum. The sight made me wince. Not sexy. Not to me.

I went into the bathroom to take a piss and clean her off my cock. I glanced in the mirror, startling myself because I forgot that I was wearing the bad toupee. The clear glasses I wore as Carl were on the sink. I put them on and stared at myself in the mirror for a moment. I wore the bad toupee and glasses not as a disguise, but to convince Dottie that I was Carl from Reno, a salesman who wore a bad toupee and glasses. The best disguise is the one that doesn’t look like a disguise.

“Can you bring me a towel, lover?” Dottie called. I washed my hands and dried them on a clean towel, then walked into the room and handed the towel to Dottie. She took the towel and mopped her cooch for a moment, then put the towel between her legs and clamped her thighs around it.

I took a cigarette out of the pack on the nightstand and lit it for her. Handing her the cigarette, I casually asked, “So, busy day at the store?”

“Oh, not too bad,” she said, holding the cigarette in the crux of two fingers and bringing it to her lips. She took a long puff and sighed happily as she blew smoke at the ceiling. “Fridays are always slow because that’s the day Mr. Crown gets the loose diamonds ready for shipment to other stores.”