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She wraps her long legs around my back, her heels digging into the small of my back, and pulls me into her fiery cunt. “Think you can keep up with me, Daddy?” she pants, staring lewdly into my eyes. “I’m the best you’ll ever have! fuck me harder! C’mon, fuck my pussy!”

I’ll die before I’ll give in. I place my hands under her firm, round butt, and pull her harder onto my throbbing cock. My hands are gripping her butt so tight, I know it’s hurting her, but she keeps skewering herself on my cock, grinding her clit on me, and howling, “Fuck me, fuck me good and hard, Daddy!”

Reaching behind my back, I grab her ankles, and manage to unlatch her legs from where they’ve been keeping me held into her hot, steamy snatch. She grins at me as if she knows she’s won, but I quickly throw her legs up, so that her legs are bent back, and her heels are almost touching her ears. 

I slam my cock in and out of her juicy pussy, fucking her harder than I ever thought I possibly could. Waves of motion make her huge titties jiggle and shake, while her hard nipples trace random patterns in the air. “Oooohhh yeaaaaahhh,” she moans. “You love my good pussy, don’t you?”

“Yeeees,” I gasp, as I release her ankles and let her legs rest on my shoulders. “Yes, I do…”

“Then say it!” she begs hotly. “Say it! Tell me you love my pussy!”

“I love your pussy!” I moan as I slam my cock into her succulent cunt. “I love your pussy, I love…”

“Ummmmm… my pussy loves your hard cock!”

We stare into each other’s eyes, and something between us ignites a deeper response. Suddenly it doesn’t seem to matter who wins this little fuckfest. I stop pounding my cock into her wet pussy, and shift position so my shaft is rubbing her erect clit as I stroke my cock deeply in and out of her juicy cunt. “Ohhhhh… your pussy is so good!” I groan, “You’re gonna make me come again!”

Her hands begin to rub my shoulders and arms, as she looks into my eyes. “Ohhhhh…” she wails. “Fuck my pussy, John! Ohhhhh yeaaahh, let me come…”

“Ohgawd,” she shrieks, as her silky snatch begins to spasm and contract around my throbbing cock. “Ohgawd, John! I’m coming! Come for me, ohhhhhh…”

“Unnnhhhhh…” I moan as I feel the first shot of jizz shoot out of the head of my dick. “Unnnhhhh…”

“Aaaaaahhh…” Jennifer wails while her fingernails lightly claw my shoulders. “Come in my pussy!”

My eyes are closed, and every fiber of my being is condensed in my cock. I pull her hips up and push my cock as far as I can into her quivering cunt. My balls throb and twitch against her asshole as they pump their load into her. Gob after gob of sticky, hot come shoots out of my pulsing cock and into her heavenly pussy. I’ve had worse, but she’s right - I’ve never had any better.

She squeezes her pussy, draining the last droplets of jizz out of my wonderfully sore balls, and I manage a few final strokes inside of her cream-filled snatch before I slip out. 

I gently remove her legs from my shoulders, and as I sit back on my haunches, she lowers her legs and stares at me with those deep, mahogany eyes. We say nothing for a couple of minutes, just staring at each other, lost in thought, as our breathing slowly returns to normal. 

“Tie,” I finally say, grinning at her. “But if I’d had a Viagra, you’d have been begging me to stop!”

“You don’t need Viagra when you’ve got me,” she grins back. “I’m all that one man could ever want. ‘Ms. Viagra’, that’s me!” she laughs. “The best in the West!”

“You are so bad, Jennifer,” I say, slowly shaking my head and smiling at her. “You are such a bad girl.”

“There once was a little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead,” she says, starting the old nursery rhyme. “When she was good, she was very good. And when she was bad… she was great!” she finishes, smiling broadly at me.

“That would be you,” I smile as I nod my head. “You are good, you are bad, and you are great. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

“I’m special!” she says, as she sits up and kisses me softly on the cheek. She spots a towel in my laundry basket, wipes her snatch where our mixed juices are oozing out, and hands it to me. “C’mon,” she says, “I’ve got errands to run.”

We get dressed, and I open the curtains. I half-expect to see a crowd gathered before us, wondering what all the screaming was and why the truck was rocking, but nothing. It’s just another day in the city.

I steer the big truck onto the highway, and in a few minutes we’re over near her old neighborhood. She gives me directions, until I see the post office on the right, and I pull into the lot. “Be right back,” she says, as she climbs out of the truck. “Don’t leave me.”

“Leave you now or later?” I think to myself. “Sooner or later I’ll have to go.”

Jennifer returns a few minutes later with a tote box full of letters, magazines, and accumulated junk mail. She gets in the truck, puts the box in the bunk, takes a bundle of envelopes out of it, and begins going through them.

“Junk, junk, junk, junk,” she says. “Junk, bill, junk, junk, bill, bill, finance…” as she stops at an envelope. She tears it open, reads the letter and says, “Shit!”

“What?”

“They repossessed my car,” she says. “Shit! I figured they would when I didn’t make the payments. Oh well, all that greasy sleazeball finance manager wanted to do was fuck me anyway.”

“There isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t want to fuck you,” I think to myself. “Priests would give up their vows of celibacy for you!”

“What kind of car did you have?”

“A ’95 TransAm,” she says. “Nice car, but the payments were astronomical, and it needed some work. I’ll get another one,” she says. “Bill, junk, junk, bill, junk, aha… here it is!” as she pulls out an envelope and tears it open.

“Two hundred fifty seven dollars and ninety one cents,” Jennifer says, waving the paycheck in the air, before putting it in her purse. “They took out twenty dollars for a ‘locker re-keying fee’, but that’s okay.” 

“Junk, bill, bill, bill, junk,” as she begins flipping through the stack of envelopes again. “Uh-oh, landlord,” as she opens an envelope.

She reads the letter silently, puts it down, looks out the window, and reads the letter again. “MOTHERFUCKING COCKBITING SONS-OF-A-BITCH” she screams at the top of her lungs. “FUCKING LOWLIFE ROTTEN MISERABLE BASTARDS! FUCKING SHIT PISS FUCKING SHIT! GODDAMN IT ALL TO FUCKING HELL!” as she pounds her fists on the dashboard of the truck. “FUCK,” she screams, “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!”

“Easy!” I say loudly, “You’re gonna break something! What’s wrong?”

“HERE!” she yells, whipping the letter at me. “I’M FUCKED!”

‘Dear Ms. Straub,’ it begins, and the rest is standard legalese. What it essentially says is; you got behind on the rent, we had you evicted, sold your belongings to pay the back-due rent, and you still owe us three months rent and attorney’s fees.

“I’m so screwed,” she sobs as she begins to cry. “I have nothing. They’ve sold my furniture, my TV, all my stuff, even my clothes!” crying even harder. “I am so screwed, I don’t know what do to.”

“I have nowhere to go, nothing to wear, no place to stay, no car, no nothing,” she sobs uncontrollably. “What am I gonna do, where am I gonna stay? I’m fucked!” she wails. “My life is fucked!”

I sit quietly as she gets up out of the seat and steps back to the bunk. Jennifer lies down on her stomach and cries hysterically, as I sit silently and watch her.

CHAPTER FOUR

“This is your fault!” a little voice in my head says. “You did this to her. You are responsible for what has happened to her. You thought it’d be real funny to give her that fake money you printed up, and this is what happened. This is all your fault, and you need to make it right!”

I pick my road atlas up off the floor, flip open to the page with the city map on it and ask, “Where’s the largest mall?”

“What?” she bawls, “What did you say?”

“The mall, where’s the largest mall? The mega-mall that everyone shops at because it has the most stores. Every city has one, where is it here?”

“Westbury Mall,” she sobs, “In Oak Lawn, over off of Coxwell Road.”

I know about where that is, and I quickly find it on the map - about a twenty-minute drive.

“Good,” I say, as I ease the truck out into traffic. “Let’s go.”

“Why?” she sniffles. “Why are we going to the mall?” 

“You need clothes, and they sell them at the mall.”

“I don’t have much money,” and she begins to sob again. “I don’t have much of anything!”

“Let me worry about that, alright? I’ll buy you some clothes. You can stay with me at the hotel for a couple of days, and we’ll try to figure out what to do. It’s not much, but for now it’s a start.” I say. “Let’s go get you some clothes to wear.”

“Okay,” she sniffles. “Okay.”

A twenty-five minute drive brings us to the mall, and it’s a big one. I park the truck, climb down and open her door. “C’mon,” I say, “Let’s go shopping.”

“You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know,” I say. “Let’s go.”

A smile brightens her face, and she climbs down, closes the door, and takes my hand. We walk hand-in-hand across the lot, and through the glass doors that lead into the cavernous interior of the mall.

Everyone has one thing in life that they are talented at doing – painters, artists, musicians, pilots, surgeons, mechanics, gardeners - everyone has some natural, God-given ability. Jennifer’s talent is shopping.

She goes into a store like a tornado through a trailer park in Kansas, with the same devastating results. She’ll attack a rack of clothes, flip through it like a Rolodex, select eight, ten, twelve items and head for the dressing room with me in tow.

I sit down on the bench outside the dressing rooms while Jennifer goes inside. Thirty seconds go by, and she emerges with a pair of jeans on and looks at herself in the full-length mirror – “Do you like these?” “Yes.” “I don’t, they make my butt look fat.” Back in the dressing room, thirty seconds later, and out with another pair on – “Do you like these?” “Yes.” “I don’t, they make my butt look flat.” Back in the dressing room, thirty seconds, a third pair – “Like these?” “Yes.” “I don’t, they make my hips look big.” After she’s tried on all the clothes, she’ll select maybe one or two items and hand them to me to hold. The rest of the loose clothing goes to the unfortunate salesclerk to put back on hangers, while she ransacks another rack of clothing.

It’s a new and different experience for me, being with a woman shopping for clothes, and I relegate myself to a supporting role – following her from store to store, carrying bags out to the truck, and most importantly… paying for it all.

The lower level, the main level, the middle level, and the upper level all feel our footsteps. North wing, South wing, the East and West wings all are graced with our presence. I begin to notice that wherever we go, Jennifer is the center of attention. All other men turn to ogle and admire her as we walk by. She is undoubtedly the most attractive woman in the mall, and it makes my chest swell with pride knowing that this dazzlingly beautiful woman is with me.

We’re standing in one of the big department stores, and she’s talking to a woman at the cosmetics counter about something that sounds like we should be at a home-improvement store – foundation, base, and other terms I know not. I wander over to the jewelry counter, and look inside. A three-strand necklace of pearls catches my eye, and I motion the salesclerk over. “Those pearls,” I say. “I’d like to see them, please.”

The clerk unlocks the display, opens the door, and hands them to me. “A fine necklace, Sir. They’re very beautiful.”

Yes, they are - and so is the price. They were much cheaper at the NavEx in Yokohama, but I’m not in Yokohama.

“I’ll take them,” handing the clerk my charge card. Jennifer walks over, and I quickly move to cut her off. 

“I wondered where you went,” she says.

“Just browsing, killing time, looking around,” I reply.

“I need one more thing, then I’ll be done here,” as she heads back to the cosmetic counter.

“I’ll be right over.”

“Here, Sir,” says the sales clerk, handing me the pearl necklace in a box, and a receipt to sign. “Are they for your daughter?” she asks, looking Jennifer’s way.

“Daughter?” I think to myself. “No she’s my… Lover? Whore? Girlfriend? Fuck buddy? What is she?”

“Yes,” as I sign the receipt and hide the box in my inner jacket pocket.

“I’m sure she’ll like them, and if she doesn’t we’ll be happy to…”

“She’ll love them,” I say. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Sir!”

I walk back to the cosmetics counter, pay for her purchase, and off we go.

On one trip back into the mall after taking bags to the truck, Jennifer says, “I’m thirsty, let’s get a drink.”

I spot a little snack stand, and we head there. I get a cup of coffee, and she gets a soft-serve ice cream cone. We sit at the table across from one another, me sipping my coffee, Jennifer eating her cone.

While I’m gazing out into the mall, watching the world go by, I hear a too familiar sound – “Mmmmmm…”

I look back at her, and she has a sexy, sultry, devilish grin on her face. “Mmmmmm…” as she swirls her tongue sensually around the tip of the ice cream cone. “Mmmmmmm…”

“Don’t do this to me again, please.”

“Mmmmmm…” she purrs. “Mmmmm…” 

She takes the cone and wipes a little bit of ice cream on her upper lip, extends her tongue and slowly licks it off. “Mmmmm…” she says, arching her eyebrows at me, “Sweet and creamy!”

My cock begins to swell and throb in my pants, and I sit there transfixed by the risqué performance that is taking place before me. Jennifer sees me staring at her intently and suddenly stands up and announces, “I’m done, let’s go.”

Only by thinking about work am I able to make my throbbing cock deflate a little. I decide not to mention her little performance like I did this morning, and she seems almost disappointed when I don’t. Jennifer walks over to the trashcan, deposits the rubbish inside, and moves over to the counter. I see her pointing at something and talking to the young clerk. He hands her something in a small cup and she bats her eyelashes at him, smiles, and walks over to me. 

We stroll through the mall, arm-in-arm. “What’d ya’ get?” I ask.

Jennifer shows me what she’s holding in her other hand – a small plastic cup with a single maraschino cherry.

“Watch this,” she says. She takes the cherry out of the cup, and pops it into her mouth. Her lower jaw moves a little, and I can see her tongue moving inside her lips. She stops, puts her hand to her mouth, and takes something out.

“Here,” smiling mischievously as she hands it to me.

I take it from her hand and look down… the stem of the cherry is tied in a perfect overhand knot. 

Before I can say anything, she drags me by the arm toward a men’s store. “You need a pair of pants,” she declares as she propels me inside.

“I do?” I say, while dropping the stem in my shirt pocket. 

As we walk past a rack of men’s tracksuits, she grabs one off of the rack and shoves me toward the dressing rooms, saying, “Here, try this on.”

“I don’t think it’ll fit,” I tell her, while she pushes me inside a room. “It looks too small…”

The door closes behind me, and I begin to turn around. Before I can say anything more, I feel a pair of hands unbuckling my belt buckle and pulling my pants and shorts down. I look down, and there she is, on her knees in front of me.

My semi-swollen cock springs free, and wordlessly she wraps her lips around it. “Ohhhh…” I moan. “What are you doing to me…”

“Shhhh…” I hear her whisper. “Shhhhh…”

Her talented tongue is swirling around the tip of my throbbing prick like it did on the ice cream cone, and her head is bobbing back and forth, methodically sucking my dick. Her hand is gently pressing on the cheek of my butt, coaxing me forward into her greedily suctioning mouth.

My hand grabs a hold of the coat rack, since my knees are beginning to weaken from the intense pleasure her mouth is providing my dick. Up and down goes her head on my pulsing cock, and that multi-talented tongue of hers is twirling around the head. 

As she swallows my cock I feel the hot breath from her nostrils tickling my pubic hair when she exhales. Jennifer pulls her lips off of my twitching dick, and licks it bottom to top, like a big candy cane. 

“Aaaahhhh…” I moan softly. “Aaaahhhh…”

She runs her tongue along the underside of my cock and licks the base of it, making it twitch with anticipation. She slowly licks my ball sack, before gently sucking each of my balls into her warm mouth and swirling her tongue around them. 

The sheer eroticism of what she is doing is making my head spin. Outside the door I can hear people talking and doors to other dressing rooms open and close as customers try on their clothes. They go about their business, completely unaware a gorgeous, young minx is inside this room with me, and doing her best to make me come in her mouth.

Up and down she licks my throbbing cock, and then wraps her lips around the head. As she gently pushes me deeper into her mouth with one hand, her other hand begins to fondle my ball sack, and I feel the familiar tightness begin as my nuts begin to draw up.

“I’m gonna come,” I moan softly. “Ohhhh… I’m gonna come!”

She senses the twitching in my cock that signals an imminent orgasm, and I feel her hand glide across my butt. Suddenly I feel one of her fingers press against my asshole and wriggle inside my ass as I come.

Jennifer gently fucks my ass with her finger as I shoot spurt after spurt of jizz into her warm waiting mouth. The feeling of her finger sliding in and out of my ass is marvelous, and my asshole squeezes tightly around her finger as I continue to come. My delightfully overworked balls offer up their third full load of jizz, and struggle to keep up with her siphoning mouth. “Urrrrrggghhh…” I gurgle helplessly, “Urrrrr…”

My already weakened knees buckle, and I fall back against the wall of the dressing room with a loud, wall-vibrating ‘THUMP’.

There’s a knock at the door. “Are you alright, Sir?” I hear a male voice say.

“Yes,” I barely manage to reply, “I just lost my balance. I’m alright.”

I look down at Jennifer, as she gets to her feet. Before I can say anything, she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me hard on the lips. I feel her tongue press against my lips and I automatically open my mouth. Her tongue snakes inside my mouth and I taste something new and different – warm, slightly sweet, slightly salty, and rich – like a gravy or a cream sauce of some sort; which is exactly what it is.

She twirls her tongue around mine for a few seconds, then pulls back and stares at me hotly with those deep dark eyes of hers. “Anthony would never let me kiss him after I sucked him off. You’re different – I like that!” she whispers sexily. “Let’s go.”

My composure has slowly returned to something near normal, and I tuck in my shirt, buckle my pants, and square myself away. I take the tracksuit off of the coat rack, and open the dressing room door.

A young, high school age sales clerk is about twelve feet away with his back to me, and he turns as I open the door.

“Well, Sir…” he begins, and stops in mid-sentence. His eyes look past me to Jennifer, who has emerged out of the dressing room, and is standing arm-in-arm with me, grinning like the Cheshire cat. You don’t have to be Einstein to figure out what just happened in there, and he looks at me with a conspiratorial smirk on his teenage face.

I slip my right hand in my pocket, grab a twenty, and palm it. I hand him the tracksuit with my left, and shake his hand with my right. 

“Thank you!” I say, smiling confidently at him. “Thank you very much!”

I feel him palm the twenty as I shake his hand, and Jennifer begins to pull me away. I see the young man look down at his hand, then pocket the bill in his pants pocket. If there’s a security videotape system, I know he’ll have hours of fun showing our little tryst to his friends – but I don’t care, I’ve got the girl.

“Thank you, Sir!” he exclaims as Jennifer drags me off, “Thank you very much,” and almost as an afterthought he says, “Please, come again!”

“Oh, he will!” giggles Jennifer. “You can count on that!”

“You are so bad!” I chuckle, as we walk out of the men’s store. “You are such a bad girl.” 

“I know,” she says. “You wouldn’t want me any other way!” “And,” she adds knowingly, “That was your third time today! You don’t need Viagra when you’ve got me!”

Back on our mall expedition we go. Blouses, skirts, dresses, jeans, slacks, bras, panties, hose, socks, shoes, clothes, clothes, clothes, and more clothes.

Finally, I’m saved by a voice from above – “Attention Westbury shoppers,” it intones. “The mall will be closing in fifteen minutes. Thank you for shopping at Westbury Mall, and have a nice evening.”

“Awwwwwww,” I say half-jokingly, half-sarcastically, “And I was just getting warmed up. Damn the luck.”

“WallyWorld is open twenty-four seven.” Jennifer states.

“What else could you possibly need?” I ask, somewhat exasperatedly.

“Toiletries,” she says. “Luggage.”

As we head for the exit, she stops in front of a women’s lingerie store, and announces, “I have to pee.”

“I’ll go move the truck closer,” I say.

“Okay, I’ll be right out.”

I drive closer to the mall entrance, and in a few minutes Jennifer emerges from the mall and climbs in the truck. She moves toward the bunk, and I think I see her put a small bag back there, but it might be something that accidentally fell to the floor.

A two hour trip into WallyWorld supplies her with shampoo, soap, a razor, blades, deodorant, a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, cotton balls, cotton swabs, nail clippers, tweezers, nail polish remover, rubbing alcohol, and countless other small items. She also manages to pick out a curling iron, a clothes iron, a hair dryer, a lighted makeup mirror, and six ballistic-nylon bags to carry it all.

We load the merchandise in the overflowing bunk, and I head back onto the interstate.

“I’m hungry, aren’t you? Let’s get some supper,” she says.

“Yeah, I am. You’ve just about worn me out, I need some nourishment.”

We pull into the ‘Lenny’s’ we ate breakfast at earlier this morning, and I glance at the radio; 12:37 – we’ve been at this over eighteen hours.

As we walk into the restaurant, I drop fifty cents in the paper box, and grab the evening edition. “I wanna check the baseball scores,” I say.

We order dinner, and while I look at the sports section, Jennifer reads the front page. Over dinner I am pleasantly surprised to learn that she is quite intelligent. Jennifer has a good knowledge of finance, world and national politics, and world geography. She’s a little behind the curve on current affairs – but I presume that’s a result of her recent incarceration. She’s able to carry on a dialog about a multitude of topics, and she’s a good conversationalist.

The waitress brings the check, and inquires if we’d like anything else.

“Some breakfast sausages?” Jennifer says, as she looks at me with her mischievous grin that I’m beginning to realize signifies trouble for me.

“Nothing else, thank you,” I tell the waitress. “Sausage is a private joke.”

The waitress says nothing, just smiles her robotic smile and moves off.

Jennifer says she needs to use the bathroom, and I tell her I’ll wait here for her. As she goes to the restroom, I feel a bulge in my shirt pocket, and I pull out a huge wad of folded up store receipts. “I wonder?” I think to myself. I flatten them out, and begin adding up figures in my head – “317 plus 286 is 603 plus 262 is 865 plus 184 is 1049 plus 473 is 1522 plus…”

Jennifer sits down and sees me adding receipts. “Well,” she asks with a grin, “How much did you spend on me today?”

I add the last two receipts in my head and reply, “Does it matter?”

“Please tell me, I’m curious.”

“I didn’t count change, just whole dollars. With the hotel, it’s a little over forty-seven.”

“I spent almost forty-five hundred dollars of your money on clothes today?” she asks in a quiet voice.

“And toiletries and luggage and other stuff.”

“Ohmigawd!” she says, as she slumps back in the booth. “I’m so sorry, I guess I got carried away.” She looks at me sadly and says, “Tomorrow I’ll return as much of it as you want me to. I don’t need all that stuff, I didn’t realize I was spending…”

I raise my hand with the palm toward her. “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is to me,” she says. “I can’t spend all of your money like that.”

“Yes you can,” I say, “…and you did!” while grinning at her.

She stares at me with those deep dark eyes, and says nothing for a minute. Finally in a hushed voice she asks, “Why, John? Why are you doing this?”

“Because.”

“Because why?

“Because, I owe… I love… just because, that’s why.”

I go to put my jacket on, and I feel something in the inner pocket bump into my chest. “Oh yeah,” I remember. I quickly move around to her side of the table, and slide in the booth next to her. “I have something for you,” I say. “I hope you’ll like it.” I pull the jewelry box out of my inner pocket, and place it on the table in front of her. “Here, open it.”

She opens the box, and recoils like she’s just seen a snake. “Oh John,” she whispers softly, “They’re beautiful!” She looks at me and shakes her head, “You shouldn’t have, you didn’t need to, I don’t deserve…”

“Do you like them?” I ask hopefully.

“Oh yes,” she stammers. “Yes!”

“Here.” I take the necklace out of the box, and as she lifts her long, dark brown hair up in back I open the clasp and clip the necklace around her neck.

“You look even more beautiful!” I say.

Jennifer turns and looks at her reflection in the plate glass window. She moves her hand up to her neck, feels the beautiful strands, and turns back to me with tears welling up in her big dark eyes.

“Thank you,” she says, as she softly kisses my cheek. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Your smile says it all.”

She looks at me and I see the tears start to trickle down her cheeks. “Thank you John for everything you’ve done for me,” she says. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re so good to me, you’re so nice, I… I…” 

I look at her and smile, hug her close, and go to kiss her. As I move my face toward her, she lowers her head, and I kiss her forehead.

“Let’s go get some sleep,” I say. “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.”

I leave the money for the bill on the table, and we leave the restaurant. I open her door, she climbs in, and I walk around and climb in my side. As I sit down, she moves over, and softly kisses me on the cheek again. She smiles tenderly at me, and the tension is so thick it hangs in the air like a cloud. I know what I feel, and I think I know what she feels, but neither of us will say it.