My Second Piece of Ass Ch. 30

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Scenes from our visit to the Pettersen home played in my mind, flickering like an old classic movie.

It had become evident that Rosita wanted us there to express her rage towards me for what I had done to her husband. Laura stepped in, saying that she had already expressed her displeasure with my actions and suggested they talk in private.

Over the next few days and nights I pieced together what had been discussed as Laura revealed fragments of her conversation with Rosita.

Nighttime was the best time to get Laura to talk. There was something about darkness that made her reveal things, things she would never say if a light bulb was burning anyplace in the house. Darkness insolated us from the outside and united us as if we were one.

Rosita took her to the den, a room off the front hall that I had never been in.

Once the door was closed Rosita flew into a hysterical tirade, blaming me for extorting her husband’s signature on meaningless documents. She vowed that demands on the documents would never be paid.

Several awkward moments followed, both women pawing the ground like two angry cows while Laura waited for Rosita to regain control over her overwrought state of mind and Rosita waited, expecting Laura to launch a counter argument.

Laura smiled and said that she had no intention of collecting the amounts Ollie had agreed to pay. She went on to say she did not want the car.

Rosita, thinking that she had won because of her brash stance, was ready to adjourn their short meeting. But she did not know Laura and had mistakenly thought she had crumbled. Laura had not approved of the method used to obtain Ollie’s signatures and had refused to accept payments from him. She had flatly stated that she did not want the car.

While Laura did not mind letting Rosita think she had won, she was not going to let her off easily. She began by telling how she had known Ollie. She revealed that she had been a prostitute and Ollie had made several visits to the brothel where she worked. He had invited her on a weekend date and she had accepted. Although she did not repeat her side of the conversation verbatim, I could visualize the meeting and what was said.

“I was being a whore. I knew he was married and had a family but I went on the date with him for the money. I was willing to do almost anything. He wanted more. When I refused to let him use my backdoor he burned me.”

This candid admission caught Rosita by surprise. She was getting to know Laura.

“I’ve had a year to think back to that night. Your husband’s act was premeditated. He brought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He was prepared to punish me if I refused. “

Rosita was visibly shocked.

“Mrs. Pettersen, I won’t accept any monetary settlement from your husband but I want him to know what he did. I nearly lost my mind. Randy came back and took charge of me, both physically and mentally. If it wasn’t for him I would have let myself become crazy and there is no telling where I would be. I know your husband is not sorry but you must make him what he did to me.”

Rosita was sobbing. She said she was sorry for the pain her husband had caused but there was nothing more she could do. Ollie had disappeared.

This admission surprised Laura. The two women embraced. Laura began to cry too. Through sobs, they consoled one another. Rosita said that she believed Laura because she had experienced similar actions by her husband. She knew first hand about his temper and his disregard for women’s feelings.

Laura told Rosita that she was sorry our reprisal had caused their family so much grief. Rosita backed away and looked at Laura in dismay, smiling through tears before rejoining their wet cheeks. The two women rocked together, lost in their common sorrow.

That night in bed Laura related how she had praised me for keeping her sane but the common disgust the two women felt towards Rosita’s husband was not disclosed until days later and even then, only one layer at a time, like old paint flaking off the weathered side of a house.

“Rosita did seem less combative when you came back. You must have softened her up,” I asserted, trying to extract more of what they had discussed.

“I told her how much comfort you have been,” Laura said. Her tit grazed my chest as she moved up my body so she could whisper in my ear. “I even told her about my telephone calls to your home and how I begged you to come back.”

“You didn’t beg. I don’t even remember that you even asked me to come back,” I mused. She was circling my outer ear with her tongue, making it hard for me to concentrate. It was ancient history and did not matter now but I was sure she had never begged me to come back. As I recalled, not returning had never been an option. I was simply fulfilling a promise.

“I told Rosita how I cried for an hour after you said you would come back to me.” Her breath tickled my ear as she whispered. “I told her about coming home that night and finding you here in the bed. We cried some trabzon escort more and I told her that was the moment when I decided I would get myself out of the business.”

This was news to me. I had not known she was planning to stop whoring until Mr. Waite installed Bea Cummings as the madam and promoted Laura to her new position. She didn’t seem to notice the little jolt my body made because of what she was doing to my earlobe.

“Rosita said she was sorry about what I had gone through. She also told me how happy it made her to hear what your coming back did for me.”

Laura took my earlobe into her mouth and I patted the cheeks of her ass. We were both lost in our own thoughts until I broke the silence. “You really softened her up. I could tell you had both been crying when you came back to the family room. Rosita looked at me differently, almost lovingly.”

“She did say she was sorry you and Julita had broken up but then she caught herself as if she didn’t think I knew,” Laura said, laughing. She was playfully chewing on my ear. “It astounded her when I said I knew that you and Huley had been dating. I didn’t go so far as to say that I knew you had been fucking.”

“Good, I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Why would it have mattered? I think she knows.”

“I think so too but that’s not what I was talking about. I wouldn’t want her to think you didn’t care that I was fucking her daughter. After you made such a big deal about me coming back it would sound cold if you admitted you knew and it was all right with you.”

Laura lifted her body off of mine. Her tits were no longer making contact with my chest. “She does know I’m a whore. She must know whores don’t have feelings.”

“You were a whore,” I corrected her, missing the warm contact of her body against mine. “And she does know you have feelings. You gave that away when you told her about crying when you found out that I was coming back to you.”

She remained above me but I felt her breath near my lips as she whispered. “I dispelled the myth that whores have feelings. I told her that after I cried for an hour I got myself ready for work.”

“You really piss me off sometimes!” I placed my hands on her shoulders and pushed her off me, holding her at arms length.

“Me? How do I piss you off?” Her voice mocked me. She knew I couldn’t keep her weight suspended indefinitely.

“When you say things like that to shock people it pisses me off. You do it all the time with me but I know you don’t mean it. Other people take it the wrong way. It sounds like you’re…..”


“Yes, hard,” I agreed, lowing her body to me. I placed one hand on her back and the other on her ass and felt her tits squished between us.

“I told her the guys got their money’s worth that night. I sucked and fucked them silly, pretending it was you.”

“Now you’re doing it again. Were you trying to shock her or are you just pestering me? You’re not a whore anymore. Why do you want to portray yourself that way?”

She lowered her lips to mine and her tits mashed my chest. My hands cupped her ass as we kissed.

“I don’t know. You’re right, I’m not a whore anymore but I wanted to remind Rosita that I used to be one. And me, I need to remind myself. It was nice to hear you say I’m not.” Laura was whispering in my ear. I moved my hands from her ass to her shoulder blades and back to her ass.

“Do me,” she whispered. “Do me for once.”

“What do you mean? I do you all the time and you do me.”

“No, we did Mary Ann a long time ago and we’ve done Aunt Clara but we haven’t done me. I don’t want to do other girls. I want to be desired. I want you to do me.”

My mind was blank. What was she saying? Mindful of her serious tone, almost pleading, told me to act with caution. Her breathing quickened as if she was uncertain. Her request was not unreasonable.

“Okay, we’ll do you,” I said, stalling, not sure how to proceed.

“No, I want you to do me.”

I understood. She wanted to be desired. She wanted to be seduced.

“Do you still have the kimono I sent you?” I asked. She hadn’t worn it for months.


“Put it on.”

“Do I have to? I don’t know if I can find it.”

“Yes, find it and put it on.”

I slapped her on the rump to make her understand that I was being serious. She leaped from the bed, shivered, found the flashlight on the nightstand and scurried to her closet on the far side of the room.

While she was searching for the kimono I slipped on a pair of boxer shorts, went to the kitchen and returned with a candle. By the time she turned, kimono in hand, I was placing the burning candle on the floor between the bed and the closet.

She smiled, handed the flashlight to me and scampered off to the bathroom.

I walked through the kitchen, through the new room and closed the back door behind me.

The desert air was chilly and I wished that I had thought to wear shoes. I flapped my arms and tried to run in place to generate some heat trabzon escort bayan but it didn’t help. I pushed the door bell and heard the chimes play their four note melody.

How cold is it out here? Why am I doing this? I saw a light in Sylvia’s kitchen and was tempted to ring her door bell. She would let me in and I could warm up for a few minutes. But she would want to know why I was outside without clothes. What would I tell her? I pushed the little button again and waited.

When the door didn’t open I pushed the button again, waited to hear three of the four notes play and pushed the button again.

“Yes?” Laura’s hair had been brushed and her lips were covered with a hint of red. I noticed how loosely the kimono fit her body. It looked old and worn from use, being washed and ironed.

“Miss Stone? I’ve had some trouble….”

“It’s Mrs.!” Her tone was indifferent.

“Mrs. Stone, my car is acting up and…” I managed to say as the door slammed shut.

I hit the button, beginning to hate the four note combination the chimes made. My teeth were chattering so much that I could not speak when the door opened again.

“Oh my, you’re freezing out there. Please come in Mr.?”

“Tucker,” I answered, pushing my body past her, seeking the warmth.

“I can’t help but notice that you are without clothes, Mr. Tucker. May I inquire what has become of them?” Her voice lacked concern. She was just curious but at least she was being civil now.

“I’m not sure,” I answered, glad to be out of the cold but mad, mad at Laura for not coming to the door sooner and mad at myself for going outside in the first place, practically naked.

“You’re going to have to explain. My husband is not here right now. I can’t let a stranger come into my house unless I know the circumstance that brought you here.”

The light from the kitchen was to her back and for a second it was as if we were back in the brothel where we met, her face expectant as she peered up at me and asked, “If I come to Phoenix will you show me a good time?”

Suddenly our past flooded my mind, her picking me up in the Corvette and our first weekend together in the hotel, having dinner, going to the movie and discussing it later, doing Mary Ann, the our last night together when I was leaving and that awful night in the bar, the letters while I was overseas, the night she came home and found me in her bed, the telephone calls and my return, the hospital visits and her recuperation from surgery, the agony we felt when she returned to work at the brothel, the slow healing of her body and mind, the excitement we felt when Mr. Waite gave her the new job and the things we had shared, sex, secrets, together as one.

Overcome with emotion I lunged at her, wanting to take her in my arms and tell her what was going through my mind.

“Mr. Tucker, really!” She was backing away, out of my clutches.

“I can explain Mrs. Stone but right now I’m freezing. Do you suppose I could borrow a sweater from C.C.’s closet?”

“How do you know my husband’s name?” She was indignant. “I don’t think he would approve of you wearing his clothes without his permission.”

“I saw his name on the mailbox out front,” I lied and saw a faint smile cross her face. “When will he be back? I really need something to wear.”

“I expect him any minute. You wait here. I’ll get something of his for you to put on.”

I watched her turn and leave me standing in the middle of the new room, obeying like a puppy in training. I rubbed my arms and legs, trying to get my blood to circulate.

“This may be a tight fit. You’re bigger than my husband,” she said as she handed me one of my sweatshirts. I slipped it on, wondering why she hadn’t brought socks or shoes. My feet were the coldest part of my body.

“This fits fine, thank you Mrs. Stone. Do you suppose your husband would mind if I have something to drink to warm my insides?”

“You haven’t told me what happened to make you ring my doorbell in the middle of the night. Are you in the habit of ringing stranger’s doorbells? Why were you wearing nothing but those shorts?”

“As I was saying before, I’m not sure what happened. I woke up without my clothes and my car keys were missing. I saw the light on at the house next door but I didn’t think it would be proper to knock on a door where a single lady lives so I came here. Thank you for letting me in out of the cold and for letting me wear Mr. Stone’s sweatshirt.”

“How did you know the lady next door lives alone?”

She had me. I could see a glint of amusement in her eyes. “I didn’t know. I peeked in the window and saw her. She looks single. That’s why I came here.”

“You peeked through the window? She looks single? You came here? Why? Did you peek through my window and decide I didn’t look single?” Her voice was a combination of doubt and delight.

“Yes, I looked in and saw a look of contentment that told me you have someone in your life that makes you very happy. You’re a beautiful escort trabzon woman. C. C. Stone is a lucky man.”

“Mr. Tucker, please come into my kitchen. I’ll make hot chocolate. Will that warm you up?”

She led the way to the kitchen, turning when I didn’t answer. She knew damn good and well that I didn’t want hot chocolate. She also knew that my legs and feet were cold. She looked up at me, expectant; reminding me again of the first time we met in the brothel. “If I come to Phoenix will you show me a good time?”

She was standing four or five feet away, waiting for me to answer. I wanted to take her in my arms, to tell her how lucky I was to be with her. But I didn’t dare. We were not on a first name basis yet. “Hot chocolate would be too much trouble. Your husband may come home and want to know why you’re serving a stranger in the middle of the night.”

“Perhaps a brandy then? That won’t be any trouble.”

Now you’re talking, I thought and nodded. I watched as she poured the amber liquid into two glasses. As she approached me she checked the two glasses to gauge which one had more brandy and handed it to me. We clicked our glasses and each took the first sip. The brandy burned my tongue and there was a bite to the taste as I swallowed. She was standing near; our toes to touched.

“Oh!” She exclaimed. “Your feet are freezing.”

I took another sip of brandy while she went to get my slippers. “These are my husband’s. His feet aren’t as big as yours so they may be too small. I thanked her and we resumed sipping the strong liquor. It was warming my insides and I no longer blamed her for taking so long to answer the door.

“Will he be home soon?”

“Who?” She was standing close to me again. I could feel her bare toes touching the ends of my slippers.

“Your husband. Do you expect he will come home soon?”

“Why would you want to know that? Are you going to molest me?” She stood her ground, not budging.

“I just wanted to know if he would be here soon. I have no plans to molest you.”

She finished her drink and placed the glass on the table. “You seem very curious about my husband. Are you going to wait for him to come home?”

“No, I have no plans to do that. It’s just…’s just that you’ve been so nice to me and I have an urge to kiss you. I wouldn’t want C.C. to come home and see me kissing you. He might get the wrong impression.”

She took my glass and set it on the table. “I wouldn’t worry about him coming home and getting the wrong impression.”

I looked into her eyes. She was tilting her head upward. I placed my hand under her chin and kissed her, soft and slow.

“Oh, my, I hope C.C. doesn’t come home and see you kissing me. He has a jealous streak in him.”

“Do you expect him soon?”

“No.” Then in a confidential whisper, “he’s a seaman.”

I took her in my arms and we kissed, harder and longer than before. Her arms were around my neck and she was running her hand through my hair.

“You never know about a seaman. He could come home at any time. What if he bursts in and catches us in a passionate embrace?”

“Not to worry. He’s at sea.”

We kissed again, open mouths, tongues exploring, fully engaged. Her hands were under my sweat shirt, roaming my bare back. I lifted the kimono and massaged her buttocks. She moaned and dug her nails into my back. We broke, both breathless.

“Seamen are unpredictable. His ship may have come into port and he could be on the way home. His taxi may be letting him out in front of your house right now. You say he’s the jealous type. That makes me nervous.”

“Why does it make you nervous?”

“I would like to do you and…..”

“I told you, he’s at sea!” Laura stood on her tiptoes and locked her lips to mine. I pushed the kimono up more. My cock, which had been standing straight since our first kiss, was stabbing her stomach. She locked her legs around my upper legs and I lowered my hands to support her butt.

“It’s just that if he comes home and finds me doing you….”

“I told you, damn it! He’s a sea!”

I had to take small steps to get to the bedroom because her legs were locked around mine and she refused to release her hold. The candle had burned down about half way in its dish. The flame flickered when she flung my sweat shirt across the room and again when I did the same with her kimono. She jumped into the middle of the bed, landing on her back.

I climbed in beside her and we began to kiss again.

“Do me,” she said breathlessly. “It’s me, not Tess or Mary Ann or Aunt Clara or Lacy or Huley. It’s me this time. Me, do me!” There was an anxious urgency in her voice.

I crawled to the foot of the bed and looked up at her. She smiled down at me.

“We haven’t been formally introduced Mrs. Stone. If I’m going to do you I would like to call you by your first name.”

“I don’t want to be Mrs. Stone. I want to be someone new. You can call me Ginny, short for Virginia.”

I had to coax her legs open with kisses beginning at the knees. She hissed when I kissed her inner thigh. “Do you like that Ginny?”

“Yes but be gentle,” she grunted, gleefully.

I kissed the other thigh and she made another hissing sound. “You will tell me if I’m too rough, won’t you Ginny?”

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