groping along her soft flesh, thumbing already erect nipples. One thing about Mary. Drugs and alcohol seemed to make her hornier. He could never figure it out. He was the opposite.
She moaned and held his head as he took one nipple in his mouth and sucked it. Then he stood, unsnapping his jeans and stepping out of them, kicking them onto the floor. He lowered himself on top of her, rubbing his blue-veined, throbbing prick against her pussy. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, her mouth demanding and fierce. Vince closed his eyes.
He imagined Belinda in his arms, so eager and excited. The jolt his thoughts gave him almost made him come right then and there. Belinda. He was careful to keep his eyes closed, determined to hang onto his fantasy. He slid into her. Belinda. He was in her, stroking, in and out, the sensation pure heaven. Gorgeous, gorgeous Belinda. He came.
11
M ary rolled over, awareness coming as sleep left. She stretched. Sunlight was forcing its way through the closed curtains, and she reached up to lift an edge and peer out. A gorgeous, brilliant day. A glance at the alarm clock told her it was close to noon. Perfect. Her favorite soap came on at one. She stretched again.
As her senses became fully alert a throbbing heat beganto rise in her loins. She pressed her thighs together, wishing Vince were home. She thought about last night. One thing about Vince—he had a high sex drive, which was fortunate, because she did too. And he was still hot for her after two years of marriage. He had an incredible body.
Her desire increased. Last night had been fun. Booze and coke always made her crazy for sex. The funny thing was, she could never get off. Not that Vince knew. She wished she could tell him, so he could take more time with her and bring her to an orgasm. She just couldn’t climax in sex. Even straight. It was always so close, but forever elusive. She’d been faking it ever since she had started screwing around when she was sixteen.
She thought about one of the carpenters on Vince’s job, a new guy. Thinking about him made her ache unbearably. She was sure that if Vince were here now, she would come. She slid her hands between her legs and stroked herself, imagining the carpenter standing over her, naked, watching. She climaxed in a couple of minutes.
She got up and padded naked into the bathroom. God, Vince was right—the house was a total pigsty. Maybe she should pick up some coke and get inspired to clean it. She turned on the shower. The scale on the bathroom floor stared up at her. She debated weighing herself. She was positive she had gained two pounds this week. She knew if she got on the scale and saw it there, in bold numbers, she’d get depressed. I won’t eat today, she thought. The weekend was coming up and if she dieted hard for a couple of days, she could knock off the two pounds.
The problem was, she’d put them back on during the weekend.
Her mother had called yesterday. She wanted to see her this afternoon. Mary was definitely not going. The first words out of her mother’s mouth would be a comment on her weight and advice about diet. Her mother was thin. Maybe anorexic. She lived in Beverly Hills, not on the flats, and she was on her third divorce and working on her fourth marriage. She was a fanatic about health, exercise, diet, clothes, and her looks. Her current husband was only fiveyears older than Mary, some nothing actor. Her last husband had been a hotshot director and closer to her mother’s age (whatever that was). Her first husband, Mary’s father, produced avant-garde documentaries. Right now he was somewhere in Thailand. Last year he’d been in the Australian outback, the year before in China. Mary saw him once or twice a year.
After a shower she made a phone call and found she was in luck. She drove over to her friend’s house. Well, Ben wasn’t exactly her friend. Vince would shit if he ever found out about their relationship.
Ben owned a nice
She moaned and held his head as he took one nipple in his mouth and sucked it. Then he stood, unsnapping his jeans and stepping out of them, kicking them onto the floor. He lowered himself on top of her, rubbing his blue-veined, throbbing prick against her pussy. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, her mouth demanding and fierce. Vince closed his eyes.
He imagined Belinda in his arms, so eager and excited. The jolt his thoughts gave him almost made him come right then and there. Belinda. He was careful to keep his eyes closed, determined to hang onto his fantasy. He slid into her. Belinda. He was in her, stroking, in and out, the sensation pure heaven. Gorgeous, gorgeous Belinda. He came.
11
M ary rolled over, awareness coming as sleep left. She stretched. Sunlight was forcing its way through the closed curtains, and she reached up to lift an edge and peer out. A gorgeous, brilliant day. A glance at the alarm clock told her it was close to noon. Perfect. Her favorite soap came on at one. She stretched again.
As her senses became fully alert a throbbing heat beganto rise in her loins. She pressed her thighs together, wishing Vince were home. She thought about last night. One thing about Vince—he had a high sex drive, which was fortunate, because she did too. And he was still hot for her after two years of marriage. He had an incredible body.
Her desire increased. Last night had been fun. Booze and coke always made her crazy for sex. The funny thing was, she could never get off. Not that Vince knew. She wished she could tell him, so he could take more time with her and bring her to an orgasm. She just couldn’t climax in sex. Even straight. It was always so close, but forever elusive. She’d been faking it ever since she had started screwing around when she was sixteen.
She thought about one of the carpenters on Vince’s job, a new guy. Thinking about him made her ache unbearably. She was sure that if Vince were here now, she would come. She slid her hands between her legs and stroked herself, imagining the carpenter standing over her, naked, watching. She climaxed in a couple of minutes.
She got up and padded naked into the bathroom. God, Vince was right—the house was a total pigsty. Maybe she should pick up some coke and get inspired to clean it. She turned on the shower. The scale on the bathroom floor stared up at her. She debated weighing herself. She was positive she had gained two pounds this week. She knew if she got on the scale and saw it there, in bold numbers, she’d get depressed. I won’t eat today, she thought. The weekend was coming up and if she dieted hard for a couple of days, she could knock off the two pounds.
The problem was, she’d put them back on during the weekend.
Her mother had called yesterday. She wanted to see her this afternoon. Mary was definitely not going. The first words out of her mother’s mouth would be a comment on her weight and advice about diet. Her mother was thin. Maybe anorexic. She lived in Beverly Hills, not on the flats, and she was on her third divorce and working on her fourth marriage. She was a fanatic about health, exercise, diet, clothes, and her looks. Her current husband was only fiveyears older than Mary, some nothing actor. Her last husband had been a hotshot director and closer to her mother’s age (whatever that was). Her first husband, Mary’s father, produced avant-garde documentaries. Right now he was somewhere in Thailand. Last year he’d been in the Australian outback, the year before in China. Mary saw him once or twice a year.
After a shower she made a phone call and found she was in luck. She drove over to her friend’s house. Well, Ben wasn’t exactly her friend. Vince would shit if he ever found out about their relationship.
Ben owned a nice
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