“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s no big deal,” he consoled. “You’re still learning to cook. I knew that when you moved in. Just find one of those videos, okay? To teach you.”
“I’ll make it up to you, baby. Tonight. I promise.”
“Don’t keep bringing that up. Not tonight. No.”
She was undeterred. “Seems like things are leading up to a big spanking. At the very least.”
“I said no.”
“You’re really sending mixed signals tonight, baby. I said we’d make sure to use a rubber. Is something wrong, you’re not telling me? I’m sorry about the garlic.”
“Everything’s all right. I’m just saying, you can’t take the clap lightly.”
“But I don’t feel sick.”
“That’s because we got you tested right away, and on antibiotics. The doctor explained all that, right?”
“I know. It’s just… I’m so horny.”
“You know what the doctor said,” he repeated. “Not to take any chances.”
“I mean, you won’t even suck my boobies.”
“He was very clear.”
“I’m tired of sleeping in the guest bedroom.”
“So that neither of us is tempted. Just a few more days.”
Mitch had vowed to himself to be less overbearing, ever since having to come home early from the week they had planned at the beach south of the border. But the culinary mistake had made him forget himself. And now, it sounded as if she was going to offer anal again – he knew her hints very well by now, and spankings for her led to that. He liked anal well enough, but his visit to his old friend from one of his early places of employment in El Cuenca had removed any need for relief or release of any type tonight.
This other woman, the one he called Mrs. Goodpussy, was in her late forties by now. Her name was actually Virginia Gottschalk, Ginny to her friends, but his sense of humor at age 23 had been such that “Gott” sounded enough like “Good”, and he went with that. Though she had a sense of humor, this didn’t appeal to it, and she merely tolerated his pet name. His friends on the other hand had found the name hilarious eight years ago, and they still did; none had divulged her existence to Katey. Ginny’s husband had a heart condition, she had been quick to let any new employee of the male persuasion know, and couldn’t “perform” anymore, as she put it. And Mitch had been intrigued enough during his first year to give her a try.
She was a bit tall at five-foot-eight, with long strawberry blonde hair usually tied in back. She was still playing recreational soccer when he joined the company, and her thighs were powerful then, as any of her lovers soon learned. He sometimes wondered what type of a sports bra would be necessary to let her play any athletics, as her breasts were very large, but he never had quite the courage to ask such a question. Even though she had put on a few unwanted pounds in the half-decade since, tipping the scales above 190 by now, those pounds were mostly muscle, and she was still a fine lay.
In the case of Mitch, she had settled into a routine where first he would strip her naked while he remained clothed, then he would kneel (the only woman he would do this for) and tongue her clit (ditto) until she felt sufficiently aroused – her job in product marketing usually preoccupied her and she needed this stimulation to put aside her workaday cares, she explained to him. Only after several minutes of this would she permit him to stimulate her long erect nipples, first digitally and then lingually. And only then would she permit him to disrobe.
Usually he would lie on his back, and she would mount him and extract a quick ejaculation through skillful and practiced use of Kegel-style contractions combined with up-and-down motion – relaxing her vaginal sphincter during the downward stroke, tightening on the upward – it was almost like a hand job, except better because it was warm and wet. Most times, she would remark disparagingly about what she considered a premature climax. Then they would trade positions and he would eat her out, more thoroughly and not stopping until she had at least one orgasm; she took some unkind pleasure in him savoring his own fluids this way. Quite soon, he would be hard enough again for intercourse. Then, and only then, she would invite him to plow her.
And he would, vigorously and for half an hour sometimes; she had an incredible capacity and endurance for vaginal friction, never needing artificial lubrication but sometimes requiring a towel underneath to absorb the overly abundant natural fluids she produced during arousal. She was not overbearing in her dominance, but she was adamant about it – she would never ever consent to performing oral on him, nor did she entertain suggestions of anal or even a hand job or titty fuck. She was all about the cunnilingus, followed by spirited intercourse. He, on the other hand, learned never to nag her about what she wouldn’t do, and instead savored the full satisfaction of two orgasms, the second one deep and draining, each time they would meet.
And that is exactly what Mitch had experienced, earlier that afternoon. He hadn’t seen Mrs. Goodpussy since before Thanksgiving, which was prior to his having met Katey at the DMV. It would have been preferable to have driven on a different day, but Thursday was what she had available, so he had chosen to deal with the bad weather and conduct his other business on that same day. It had been a long day down there, with a taxing drive home, and there were still a couple hours of proposal writing he needed to complete for the money guys before giving in to slumber that night.
So he was doing his best to cool Katey’s jets this evening, but apparently her jets were still at full throttle.
They ate in silence for several bites and a sip of wine each. Mitch didn’t remember anything more about his girlfriend’s friend, so that topic wasn’t worth pursuing further. His planning for the New Zealand trip was coming into place, but he still wasn’t ready to spring that surprise on her yet. Skiing locally had shut down, so there wasn’t that to discuss. It was too soon for good hiking, which she had agreed to give a good try this summer. Nothing that had taken place in the afternoon with the new venture capitalist would be of interest to her. And he certainly had no intention of mentioning Mrs. Goodpussy. He just picked through his plate of spaghetti, pushing to the side any of the unappetizing parts of the garlic he could see, dealing with whatever else slipped through as best he could.
“Baby?”
He looked up at her. “Yeah?”
“Do you think when a girl gets raped, she turns into a prostitute?”
“What? Why do you ask that? No. No.”
“Brit says so. She says, all whores got raped at some point in their lives.”
“It’s a hard life to lead. Some of the johns are bound to go too far.”
“I mean before they got into it.”
“Well, I don’t know. I don’t think that’s… a cause, no. I mean, I have no idea, really. I wish you wouldn’t….”
“But, what if it happens to me?”
“Become a hooker?”
“Yeah.”
“Now you’re just being crazy again.”
“I’m serious. Look, I didn’t tell you this last week. Because I was ashamed. But, when they had me? I gave in.”
“You… what do you mean? Those assholes? You did what you had to do, that’s all, considering the circumstances. That’s *all* you did. You did what you had to. Anyone would.”
“No. I didn’t ‘do’ anything. I couldn’t. I was tied up and they just did it, inside me, my cootchie, and then they turned me over, and did it in back. I just, I just – I guess you’d say mentally – I just gave in. After the first two. It hurt at first. But then I started having an orgasm, at least when they fucked me normal, in the cootchie, even though it hurt. It started being like when you tie me up and let your friends do me. And I just gave in, and it was all a blur.”
“They gave you stuff. You don’t know what they gave you. Weird stuff. I have no idea what. But you can’t blame yourself. it was the drugs taking over. Don’t you think? Don’t make this bigger than it is. You were lucky they let you go, the next morning. I’m so lucky. God, I was so careless.”
“But that’s not all. The next morning? I sucked their cocks.”
“Look, I know it was terrible for you. And I’m so, so sorry. They forced you. You said you were tied up.”
“Not in the morning. Not when I sucked their cocks. I was untied. And I gave in. They called me puta, and I sucked their cocks. You told me what it meant, after. I was a puta, for them.”
“You were under terrible… you weren’t in your right mind. Not after all they did to you.”
“But, see? *You* show me off to your friends. And at the restaurant in Cabo, when we were at dinner, and you pinched my booby right in front of the waiter? And he got, you know, kind of weird and embarrassed? Well, I liked it that time, too.”
“That has nothing to do with… with the assholes. What we do here is just harmless fun, Shrimp. And anyway that was before the, well, before what happened… happened. Don’t take it serious.”
“But I am serious. When we got back to the hotel, and you made me play with myself?”
“Yeah? Like always.”
“Well, I thought about him. The waiter. About what he’d want to do to me.”
“Such as?”
“What do you mean? He’d want to fuck me, duh. Probably would want a blow job, and then who knows, he’d try for butt sex too. I’d be a puta.”
“That has nothing to do with what happened later that night. Or being a prostitute.”
“Well, the next night, basically, it was like that.”
“It was nothing like that. Fantasy, versus the harsh reality.”
“To them, I was just their prostitute.”
“What were they thinking at the time? Who cares what they thought? You don’t have to buy into the same thing.”
Katey paused. “Brit says basically that’s all I am to you.”
“What? A prostitute? No. No.”
“You don’t ever want to get married. Or have kids.”
“I mean, just because I don’t believe in marriage… or any of that… it doesn’t…”
“You don’t ever say you love me. Never.”
He paused. “That’s just… not how I am. I told you that, from the start.”
“Baby! You’re not listening!” She waved the fork with wound spaghetti and sauce, for emphasis, spilling a bit on the tablecloth before putting it in her mouth.
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