High Maintenance WomanbySoftly©
Rita Hyman had a tired look as she sat down at the head table. It had been a hell-of-a-year. At one point, she had worked twenty-two days straight. Tonight, she would receive the Million Dollar Trophy for being the top real estate salesperson in all of Virginia for Century 21. Fred Atwater, her boss, was to make the presentation. There was no doubt that she was the Rainmaker for their little, six-agent office. No only had she had a wonderful year, with her twenty-eight sales, but she had shared leads that she did not have time to handle with the other agents. They all loved her for that, you can be sure.
As Fred droned on with his prepared speech, Rita had a bemused smile on her face. She wondered what the reaction would be of the fifty agents if she told the truth when asked, as she expected to be; So that we can be better salesperson, please tell us what you believe to be the secret of your tremendous success?
She thought that she should stand on a table, while explaining," I heard a rumor that Farnsworth Pharmaceutical was buying land to the North of Roanoke for a new headquarters and manufacturing plant. I flew to Newark, New Jersey. After a brief meeting with the relocation officer, Mr. Mark Goldstein, we retired to his downtown apartment. That was on a Friday afternoon. Between then and Sunday night, he fucked me at least forty different ways. (Now lifting her skirt and lowering her panties and thrusting her hips forward.) So, you see, the secret to my success is this, my pussy. In exchange for the use of my pussy for the last year, Mr. Goldstein has forwarded to me the names of those to be transferred before they even knew it.
The fact is, of course, that her contacts just got her foot in the door. She had worked her butt off, sometimes working from six AM until midnight. She would meet the couples at the airport, and stay with them until they flew back to Newark.
When Fred finished his speech, and presented her with the trophy, Rita gave a short acceptance speech. Its theme was that the Century 21 system, and national advertising was the reason for her success.
The award came after a dinner. Most of the attendees would now retire to the hotel lounge. The rest of the evening would be spent drinking and flirting, with the men agents doing their best to bed a female agent.
Rita thought to herself. I am going to get laid. I just don't give a damn who does the honors. She walked up to the bartender, a not too bad looking college kid making a few bucks. "How about a Screwdriver...double?"
"Gee, lady, I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to make doubles."
Rita's eyes met his. No man meeting Rita said to himself, hey this is a hot girl. Instead they thought, Hmm, full bore woman. I would like to bed that. Take her home to Momma, if I could.
Sweetly, she said, "I need a double." She got a double. By the time that she was on her third double, she was not seeing too well, and had to blink a lot. Unsteady on her feet, she sought out a small table in the corner. Carl Lane, an agent she had met before from Lynchburg, forty miles to the East of Roanoke, joined her at the table. Rita thought, well finally. Damn men fumble-fuck around coming on to me. Might just as well speed things up.
Knowing that Carl had a room at the hotel for the night, she said, "Carl, I'm too drunk to drive home. Could I go lie down in your room for a couple hours."
Carl, who had been playing the role that he was politely just chatting with her, while in his heart was hoping that some miracle would happen so that he could bed her, just once, got a shocked look on his face, like a man who just won the Lotto. When he looked Rita in the eye, he saw no blinking, no indication that she did not fully intend to let him have his way with her. "I'm ready to go now," she added to drive the point home.
As they rode up in the elevator, Carl stood looking at Rita. He wanted to take off her dress now so that he could see those tits. They had to be real hangers.
Rita, let her eyes cast over Carl, as she wondered, I hope that he has a nice cock? She would soon find out. One guy she had fucked, sent down to Roanoke from Newark, had a little four inch cock. She smiled to herself. She had come twice with him.
Carl's room was like a million other hotel rooms. "I have to pee," she said.
When she came out naked, Carl was naked, sitting on the bed with a hard on.
Rita thought it to be funny that no two men have cocks that appear the same, just like faces. His was small at the end, very fat in the middle, and had a bend to the right of forty degrees.
"Ha, ha. Does your cock have a bend so that it can see around corners?"
"My wife says that I got it caught in a door chasing some woman."
Carl stared at Rita standing there before him. She had a dark tan, which made the lower half of her breasts covered by her bathing suit stand out like white beacons, as did the white triangle around her black bush. There was something very sensual about her breasts. They hung low, but stood out proud and full. Carl correctly guessed that she had never had a child, which brought a smile to his face thinking of her tight pussy, that would be the holder of his cock for much of the night.
Rita, tired as she was, as well as drunk, was not in the mood for long foreplay, or anything fancy.
"Here is the play, Carl. I don't need any licking, or fondling. I am ready now. I don't feel like giving you oral sex, or going doggy. Let me lie on my back. You climb on and put your bender in me. Do me as long, hard, and fast as you want. If I fall asleep, roll me on my back and do me again. I am horny and am in the mood for sex."
"I don't believe you? Are you real? I'm lucky to get it once a week at home."
"I'm real, Carl. I like my sex. Oh, did I see a vodka bottle in the bathroom?"
"Mind if I have some?"
Rita got it and returned to the bed. She unscrewed the top. She took a last long look at Carl, her eyes boldly locking on his. Then she upended the bottle, drinking from it until a third was gone. She handed the bottle to Carl. "If you keep me supplied with vodka, you can fuck me until Sunday."
She lie back, as her legs opened wide to accept his body. Her hand guided his bender to her waiting slit. A push. Carl had entered the gates of heaven. A second push. Rita joined him. Carl, an intelligent man, savored it all; the fragrance of her perfume, how her body supported his, how her pussy, so small, so tight, gripped his throbbing cock. She was more woman than he had ever known before. Who did she belong to, if anyone?
It also dawned on him that to have won the award, she must have earned over one hundred thousand dollars last year. This was no tramp that he was fucking.
Rita interrupted his thoughts as she moaned and twisted as her body responded to an orgasm. She took his head in her hands and kissed him full on the lips.
"Bender is doing a good job down there," she whispered.
Soon, she came again, as did Carl. "I have to pee," she announced. Walking to the bathroom, she turned to say, slurring her words with drunken speech, "I'll wash my cookie, so that it is ready for more of you."
Just before getting back onto the bed, she took another long swig from the bottle.
She is an alcoholic sex machine, came to Carl's mind.
Soon after Carl and she both came the second time, the booze caught up to Rita in a big way. Not only was she asleep, but he could not get any response from her either by sticking a finger into her, or by playing with her tits.
Carl had brought a video camera to film the awards dinner. He put a new tape in it and set it up buried in a stack of clothes. He then put on his pants and went to the next two rooms, which were occupied by Phil Owens and Ron Butler.
"How would you like to be married to that?" Phil asked while looking down at Rita, spread out naked on her back with her legs open.
"I'd wear out my dick fucking her." Ron said, with a laugh.
Carl turned from making himself a drink. "Go ahead and fuck her. I'm sure that she won't mind. She told me to hump her even if she was passed out."
They did. All night. Carl had some peter-beater material video that he would watch again and again.
All woke up at the same time, just before ten AM. Rita knew instantly that she had been the object of their attention. "Well, Carl, did you tell these guys that it was a thousand a night to be with me?"
They all laughed. Ron asked, "Are you married, Rita?"
"No. Was. Being with you guys makes it sort of a joke. The reason that I divorced him was that he never paid any attention to me."
"That man was some sort of fool." Phil, softly observed.
"Just your standard brand workaholic attorney, interested more in money and power than his wife."
Carl got a knowing look on his face. He knew that she was not trash. He, happily married, knew that she was not for him, but for the right guy, this was a real tigress, one hell of a lot of woman.
"How old age you, Rita?" Came from Phil.
The answer came, "I will be thirty-one in July."
Sunday, shortly after Rita returned to her small condo, just Northwest of the Roanoke airport, she lay out on a lounge on her balcony, naked, as was her habit. Being on the forth floor make it impossible for anyone to see her, except the air traffic controllers, who she was sure could see her well enough to count the hairs on her cookie.
She had a three week vacation starting tomorrow. She was thinking of getting away to somewhere where the humidity was not so sticky. North near a lake would be perfect.
She had been to a girl's camp in Vermont as a youngster. Vermont's Lake Champlain was where she would go.
Tuesday, at just after ten PM, she pulled into the Days Inn. It had been a pleasant ride in her Mustang convertible. To be an ornery shit, while on Interstate 81,she had worn a loose tube top, knowing that along the way she would break up her boredom, as well as a lot of truckers, by lowering her top so that he breasts were completely exposed to any driver sitting higher than she was.
If she saw a Bear approaching her, she would cover herself, wondering if the Bear, who had to have heard about the "Seat cover," with the "Naked Jugs," in the Red Mustang, was hurrying to hassle her, or to get a look. Probably both.
The life guards at Burlington's North Beach noticed her right away when she placed her blanket near their tower, at just above the water's edge. She did not want to burn her feet walking to and from the water, which she would do several times, since she liked to cool off when she got hot and sweaty. When wet, her suit clung to her swaying breasts. Only the Canadians from Quebec wore smaller suits them she had on. Often only throngs.
Her intention was to spend her whole vacation away from a phone, eating any damn thing that she wanted, while reading Nelson Demille's book, "Up country." Two people had told her that they thought that she was like one of the main characters, Susan Weber. That and sleep. Lots of sleep.
Laying on her back in the sun, her mind drifted back to when she last was in Vermont, at Brown Ledge Girl's Camp. It had been a great summer. She, Jill Murray, Kim Brown, and Jane Wintergate were lucky that they had not been asked to leave. They smoked, snuck out at night to ride with boys in their boats, and drank beer. If she knew then what she knew now, they would have done more then just ride in the boats with the boys.
By Friday, she was bored, and yes, horny. She started thinking of her pussy. She started looking at the crotches of the men who walked by her along the lake shore, in the wet sand.
She also had a need to get a buzz on. More than that, she wanted to be drunk, let it all hang out. Like a tigress, she eyed the men in sight. She was picking someone to do to her what needed to be done. She had to have it. One guy with a big cock pouch in his suit was with a woman. Probably Canadians.
Just then one of the Guards came walking down the beach. Tall, bronze as a Greek god, not an bit of fat on him, he had that walk of an athlete. Age? With the white Guard hat, and the flyer's sun glasses, she could not tell.
She stood up and walked in front of him. "Hi, I wonder if you could help me?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I'll try."
Rita could tell that he was only early twenties, maybe younger, but she continued on. "I'm a stranger here. I noticed in the paper that there is a Phish concert tonight. I would be afraid to go alone. Do you know of a group going to it that I could go with?"
There was a look of total confusion in the boys eyes. "Ma'am, darn, I don't know what to say. I don't have a car. If I can borrow my brother's car, I would be happy to go with you."
It was a line that always worked, Rita reasoned. She had him, hook, line and peter. "I'm Rita Hyman."
"I'm Matt Jock. Be right back." he said as he turned and trotted down the beach to the other Guard tower.
In moments, he was trotting back to her. "My brother Paul said that we can all go in his car."
It was not exactly what Rita had in mind, since she lost control of the transportation, but what the heck, she had gotten an offer to go to a concert. There would be booze, maybe some ecstasy, and some young peter. Had to be a good time.
"Tell your brother that it was sweet of him to ask me along. Pick me up at the Day's Inn at seven?" She was gone.
Paul had not seen Rita up close. After she had left, he asked Matt. "What to hell is going on? You invited red suit to go with us?
"Not exactly, she asked me if I knew of someone that she could go with."
"Do you think that she screws"
"How to hell would I know if a woman will screw. I have never been laid in my life. You?"
"She isn't a local, so I say let's try to fuck her?"
"Yo, Boy oh boy, how I'd like to do that."
Matt took a deep breath. "Paul, this is not just any woman. She is older then we are and is the sexiest woman I have ever spoken to. She is the kind of woman I dream of marrying. She has it all. I think that if I saw her naked that I would come in my pants. And her eyes. Damn, Man, when she puts those babies on you, all you can think of is wanting to be the daddy to her kids."
The Phish concert was a hum-dinger. Some said there were seventy-five thousand people at the fair grounds. Rita bought two hits of ecstasy. That and the quart jug of screwdriver with 80 percent vodka made for a very happy Rita by the time they rolled down the highway to the Jock's boys hunting camp, a stop that Rita knew nothing about.
Tom Jock, the boys father, who was an electrical geek, with several owned patents, heard his sons discussing this Rita when they were home changing clothes. He surmised that they would try to take her to his hunting camp. He went there in time to set up a camera in the boy's bedroom, and to get himself comfortable in the garage where he had a TV monitor set up. Whatever happened, he would see in living color, as well as hearing every word, moan, or sigh.
Rita sat in the rear of Paul's Honda with Matt. Rita had the same loose tank top on that she had worn during her drive to Vermont. She sat with her head back, mouth open, wearing a vacant smile. Her legs were apart. "I, I, love... love everybody, especially you... Matt."
Dimly, Rita was aware of her pussy. She rubbed it. "Oh, that feels good."
Matt, who had never had any, knew that in the state that Rita was in right now, that anyone could fuck her.
"I love you too, Rita." Matt said as his hand cupped a breast. Matt kissed her.
There was no immediate reaction to his hand.
"Do you like my breasts, Matt?" "They are lovely, but I really can't see them all that well."
Rita's eyes closed for a second, as her hands lowered her top so that her breasts were free for Matt to see and feel. Matt thought that if anything rubbed his cock that he would come in his pants right then.
They arrived at the camp. Both boys supported Rita as she stumbled into the camp, and was put on the boy's bed. Naked, she was beautiful. Both boys took off their clothes. Tom, in the garage, took out his cock. He rolled the head in his fingers as Matt played with Rita's pussy.
Tom could hear every word Rita said. "Hmm, Hmm, I like it when a man is with me and I can see his cock. I knew when I saw you on the beach that you had a cock. You're young, you, you... Lots of cock in me. Paul has a cocky too. I love cocks."
A sad look came over her face. "My husband did not give me enough cock."
Matt thought that his cock would exploded killing them all. He rammed his tool deep into her and came with the first shove. Paul only lasted until the forth shove, and he too come.
Rita got up on her elbows. "Oh dear God, please get hard again. I need it so bad."
Tom burst out of the garage, his pants at half-mast, with his stiff cock bobbing up and down as he hurried into the camp. As he bounded through the front door, the boys heard him exclaim, "I'm coming, I'm coming. Jesus, God, let me live long enough to put my cock in her."
He tripped as he entered the bedroom. Both boys laughed at him as he took off his pants while pulling himself up. He lunged onto the bed. Rita opened her legs to accept him as he found her slit and slammed his cock into her. The boys noticed that she raised her hips so that what he had was driven home, deep within her pussy.
Just as she came, Tom did. He was replaced by a now hard Matt, who lasted long enough this time to bring a woman to orgasm for the first time. Paul was next. Rita came again.
The next day, after the Jock men had each been into her twice, Tom cooked a great breakfast. Later, sitting on the front porch, Tom asked Rita questions about her past, which she answered honestly. Rita, then asked Tom about his situation.
"My wife, the boys mother, died six years ago. I have been looking for a wife for the last two years. Rita, would you consider marrying me?"
"I've had bad luck with men. Besides, I have had sex with your sons. I am a high maintenance woman, who needs lots of attention. What do you do?"
"I own several patents, which make me financially independent. I have an interest in traveling. So, if you were to marry me, I would be around most of the time, and we would travel a lot."
"How about my need for attention and sex?"
"Oh, I think that the boys and I can take care of that problem for you."
"Tom, I'm yours. I will gladly marry you. Let's go to the bedroom and seal the deal. I have an itch for Jock's cocks.
Within the next three years, Rita gave birth to two strapping boys. Tom is not sure if they are his sons, or if they are his grandsons. Who cares?
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