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The waitress brings the check, and takes my plate away. I look down, and see that Jennifer has polished off everything on her plate! She's eaten everything but one link sausage that sits in the middle of her plate.

"Not cooked enough?" I say, pointing to the little link. "Did you drop it?"

"Watch this," she says, with a devilish grin.

She gracefully picks up the sausage with her thumb and index finger, moves in to her lips, and begins to slowly move the little breakfast link in and out of her mouth.

"Mmmmmm..." she moans, winking at me. "Mmmmmm..."

"Stop that!" I hiss at her. "Cut it out!"

"Mmmmm..." she continues to moan. "So hard, so firm, so..."

"Stop it!"

"So tasty, just the way I like it!" she grins mischievously.

Contrary to my verbal protests, my cock has immediately sprung to life as a result of the erotic spectacle that is taking place across the booth from me. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, she pulls the little sausage from her mouth, dips the end of it in some pancake syrup remaining on her plate, and moves it back to her mouth. Her tongue flicks out, and begins to twirl around the end of the sausage, as she licks the syrup off.

"Ummmmm..." she moans as she winks at me. "Sweeeeeet!"

I stare transfixed at the sexy exhibition she's putting on, and my cock is throbbing like it's about to burst.

"Enough," I say, standing up. "C'mon, let's go."

Quickly I look at the check, and leave the amount and a decent tip for the waitress. The front of my pants is tented out obscenely, and I cover it with my jacket so no one will see my raging hard-on.

Jennifer walks out the door beside me, saying nothing, just grinning like the Cheshire cat. I open the door to the truck, and as she climbs in, she gives her butt a little provocative wiggle in front of my face. She climbs in and goes to sit down, but I climb in behind her. Jennifer moves back to the bunk and sits down to let me pass by, but I stop and sit on the edge of the passenger seat.

"Please don't do that to me!" I say, looking her in the face.

"Do what?" she asks, feigning innocence.

"What you did back there in the restaurant! Please don't."

"Because we're in public?" she says, emphasizing 'public'.

"No," I say, "because I don't like walking around with a hard-on! You can play games if you want, just don't get the lawnmower out if you're not going to mow the lawn! Do you underst..."

A fire engine approaches, with its lights flashing and siren wailing. It slows in front of us, makes a right turn, and heads up the cross street. I stop talking to her, and turn to watch as it does. I don't know a man alive who won't stop what he's doing to watch a fire truck – I guess it's the little boy in all of us.

"Alright?" I say, turning back to her. "Do you understand what I..."

In the few seconds I've watched the fire engine pass, Jennifer has stripped down to nothing, and is lying on my bed, completely nude. "C'mere," she whispers, stretching her arms out to me. "C'mere and mow my lawn."

"I..." stammer as I begin to stand up. "That isn't what I..."

"Johnny's got a stiffie! Johnny's got a stiffie!" she sings in a little girl voice. "Johnny really likes me, 'cause Johnny's got a stiffie!" while she reaches forward and rubs my cock through my pants. "C'mere!" she exclaims as she begins to grab at my belt buckle.

I pull away from her, lock the door, and yank the curtains closed.

"Yeah, I've got a stiffie," I say heatedly. "You should know, you gave it to me!" I kick my shoes off, drop my pants and shorts, and crawl between those long, widespread legs.

"I'll mow your lawn!" I hiss angrily as I rub my cock around in the slippery oil that's oozing from her snatch. "I'll mow your lawn, alright." I push forward, and my cock easily slides into her well-lubricated pussy. Her muscles squeeze my shaft, and she squeals with pleasure.

"Ummmmm..." she squeals, "Fuck me."

I begin to piston my cock in and out of her hot, clingy snatch – softly at first, but I get madder as I think about the little scene back at the restaurant, and I begin to pound her harder.

Jennifer unbuttons my shirt, scrapes her fingernails lightly across my chest, and pulls hard on my nipples. "Fuck me good and hard!" she demands, her eyes glowing lustily. "Fuck me like you want it!"

I begin to pound her pussy as hard as I can - the bedsprings are squeaking, the truck is rocking, and my balls are making a 'THWACK-THWACK-THWACK' sound as they slap against her butt. This isn't sex anymore - it's about domination, submission, control. One of us is going to outfuck the other, and I'm determined not to lose this contest.

Neither is she. Jennifer feels me pounding her syrupy cunt, and begins thrusting her hot pussy up at me in return. "C'mon, fuck me!" she chants. "Fuck me Daddy, fuck me, fuck me good!"

I'm fucking her with everything I've got, my dick thrashing around inside her silky snatch, as her warm juices flow over my balls. "Fuck me, fuck my pussy, fuck me hard!" she cries. "Make me come, if you can! Gimme what you've got, Daddy! C'mon, fuck me!"

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.