Courtship for the Clueless

"I hope you're pleased with it, because that F-3 is yours. All yours. I know you like vintage pick-ups and have always wanted one of your own."

She turned and looked at again, and then wound herself around Roger, kissing him soundly as everyone else laughed and applauded. They crowded around them, hugging and kissing in the joy of the moment. Finally she said, "Thank you all. You have no idea what this means to me. Let's go back and see what we can find for dessert."

On the porch, a sheet cake with a computer-generated picture of the F-3 with the words, "Tiffany's Truck" under it was waiting; Wanda had taken it from the back of the Miller-Meteor and put it on the table while Tiffany was being led over for the big reveal. A stack of paper plates was waiting, along with the stainless forks from the party set of flatware and a cake knife of the sort used at weddings. She set to cutting pieces of cake, someone hooked up the speakers, and music filled the air as the working party became a real party.

After the party broke up, Tiffany took a bottle of champagne out of the refrigerator -- since she had moved in with Roger, she had started keeping a bottle or two in the fridge at all times -- and brought it and a couple of glasses up to the bedroom. She nuzzled her lover at the base of his neck.

"You go and get ready for bed," she ordered. "By the time you're back, I'll be ready for you." With an anticipatory smile, Roger obediently went into the bathroom.

She popped the cork on the bubbly, got her mouth over the bottle in time to catch the overflow, and tipped it back, chugging half the bottle before she poured the champagne into the flutes. Stripping naked, she took the bottle of lube she rarely needed any more and rubbed some into her vagina before she tossed the covers aside and laid down on the bed on her back. Parting her legs, as the champagne began to hit she lightly teased her clitoris, working herself up to a high state of arousal. When Roger came back in his silk robe, freshly shaved, teeth brushed, mouth rinsed, and hastily washed, she was waiting for him. Her lips were parted, her nipples hard, and her pussy glistened.

"Come to me, stud. I want you. I want you in me and on top of me," she whispered, her speech a little slurred. "I'm a slut. I want you to use me. I want your cum in me and on me. Come and use your slut, lover." She spread her legs wide in invitation.

Roger undid the sash that held the robe closed and got on the bed between her legs. Before he could do anything, Tiffany took hold of him, lewdly rubbing his lady-pleaser up and down her slit before pulling him into position and thrusting up to take his cock as her hands pulled him to her. She moaned as her clit rubbed the length of his shaft and a small climax burst in her head. She pulled his head to hers, whispering, "Take me! Fuck me! Use me, stud! Use me good! Make me cum for you!"

Her playing the seductive slut of the earliest days of their relationship startled Roger, but he wasn't about to spoil the mood his willing wench was creating. He got onto elbows and knees and began pumping her, hearing her grunt with the force of his thrusts as he went in and out of her, looking into her eyes and seeing the lust in them as she bucked under him, fucking back eagerly, glorying in the squishing sounds coming from her sopping pussy. She pulled a hand to her tits, panting, "They're all yours, stud! Do whatever you want! Fuck me like a whore! Twist 'em, pull 'em, squeeze 'em, whatever you want! Make me cum for you! Make me cum! Make me!"

Another climax coursed through her, burning its way to her brain and scorching away the manners that separate man from beast. As her lover got his other hand into the act on her other breast, she came again, crying out with the pleasure.

"Yes! Like that! Use me! I'm a slut and a cunt and this is what I'm meant for! Use me! Cum in me! Give me your cum, stud! Give me your cum! Make me cum for you!"

He thrust harder into her, understanding that she wanted to be used like a whore though he did not understand why she wanted it like that. He gave her what she wanted, pistoning in and out with great force and no subtlety. She gave a little scream as she came again, and then again a few seconds later, her orgasms increasing in frequency and intensity until she was cumming continuously for him, her pussy muscles spasming as they grasped at the ramrod charging her up, preparing her for an explosion that would make all which had gone before seem miniscule. Her nails dug into his back under his robe as she moaned, "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Use me like a bitch in heat! Make me cum! Make me! MAKE ME!"

The sexual charge that had built up in her cooze exploded. She felt herself fly apart with the force of it, the climax screaming through every part of her, colors shimmering, sensations heightened, spinning round like a top as she felt her stud-horse shoot into her, each jerk of his cock setting off another orgasm like the secondary bursts of a skyrocket. Gasping with the ecstasy she had just enjoyed, she pulled back beneath him and his prick popped out of her pussy. She grabbed hold and pulled him up onto her, plopping his greasy penis between her sweaty boobs.

"Titty-fuck me, stud! Fuck my tits! Shoot your spunk all over me!" she ordered.

She pushed her hooters together and lewdly used them to rub his cock as he began to drive into the valley between them. His hands found her nipples and twisted and pulled them. She groaned at his use of her homegrowns even as she encouraged him to pull and pinch harder, the pleasure-pain burning along her nerves setting her coochie to dripping.

"Oh yes, baby, like that! Use my boobs and fuck 'em the way you fuck my cunt! I want you to! I want you to cum on my tits! I want you to cover me with your sperm! Give me what I need, stud! Fuck my tits and cum all over me!"

His pelvis rocked and his prick moved in and out of the flesh-tunnel made by the boobies pressed around them. As the head of his cock peeped out at the high end, she licked it. Her tongue on his frenum made his ramrod even harder and thicker as hot blood stiffened his fuckstick. Before long, his long thrusts became short jabs, a sign he was about to cum. Sensing it, Tiffany purred, "That's right, stud! Let it go! Give me your spunk. Let it fly! Mark me like a dog! Cum for your slut, baby! Cum on me!"

His hands tightened on her tits and she screamed in a mixture of pleasure and pain as his rock-hard dick erupted. The first two shots hit her square in the face and ran along her cheeks and chin before the air thickened his jizz on her. The next two got her on the neck and her chest before a small, final spurt splattered the chest above her boobs. She sighed with satisfaction and squirmed out from under Roger, kneeling on the rug by the bed and pulling him to his feet. He swayed as she took him into her mouth, laving his softening prick with her tongue and making it stiffen again even as she washed it clean of their juices. Humming, she brought her hands up, one working the shaft, the other controlling how far he thrust into her mouth. Her busy tongue swirled around the head of his penis, teasing and stimulating as she urged him to fuck her throat. Beads of sweat sprang out on his forehead as she used him. She looked up and met his downward gaze, smiling around the dick in her mouth, her hot eyes encouraging him to drive in and out harder as she sucked and masturbated him. When she felt the jerking in his shaft that meant he was about to climax, she sucked harder and treated his penis like a cow's teat, milking it with her fingers.

"Oh, Tiff, I don't know if I can make it again!" he groaned, grabbing her head. "I want to, but I think there's nothing left! Oh -- my -- GOD!"

She had reached behind him, slipped a manicured finger into his ass, and found his prostate. She massaged it and was rewarded. As she felt his orgasm begin, she pulled her head back and received a spray of cum, directing it all over her tits, frosting them with his cock-cream. She got to her feet and pulled him to her, locking her mouth to his, passionately french-kissing him, her hands running over his back and buttocks, caressing him as they came down from their sexual high. She broke the kiss and pulled her head back, looking at him tenderly. Releasing herself from their embrace, she took a step back and shimmied, her boobies quivering. With a knowing smile, she brought his hands to her breasts and encouraged him to rub his sperm into her skin as she used a finger to scrape it off her face to be licked off and swallowed. When none remained, she embraced him gently and told him, "Thank you, my darling. Let's have a snuggle. I want to talk to you."

Those words set an alarm ringing in Roger's head, but then reason silenced the bells. If she was about to tell him she was leaving, that they were all over, she wouldn't be asking him to cuddle her.

When they were settled under the covers, heads and shoulders up on the pillows, champagnes flutes in hand, and her safe within the curve of his arm, she said, "Was anything about what we just did different, Roger?"

He thought about it. He finally said, "Well, apart from your seeming to revert to the one night stand slut who bedded me the first time we had sex together, as far as I recall this is the first time you've ever let me have you male-dominant, the guy on top of the girl. You seem to prefer doggy-style or cowgirl."

"Not prefer, my darling love. Feel safer, more in control, like. It has to do with something that happened to me just before I graduated from high school.

"I was a senior, a couple of weeks from graduating. The baseball team had just won the state championship, and the whole town was celebrating. My boyfriend, Clete, the one who rescued that Bandit Trans Am I helped rebuild, threw a party for the seniors on the team.

"His family had a lakeside cabin on a few acres about 45 minutes north of here. They liked to go up there on weekends for swimming and fishing, and they used it during hunting season too. They told Clete that if he went up there, turned the water on, and cleaned up any messes that got made he could throw a party there, that he was an adult now who didn't need chaperones.

"So he invited the team's seniors. About a dozen of them and their girls showed up. There were burgers and dogs, store cakes, chips and dips, beer and jug wine, and someone brought some pot. I had a few tokes just to be sociable, 'cause I don't like the high weed gives you. Then Clete brought out two bottles of coconut liqueur. You ever have any of that?"

Roger rolled his eyes at a painful memory. "Yeah. After May dumped me -- I know I've told you that story -- I went to more parties senior year than perhaps I should have, trying to salve my bruised male ego. I got picked up by a girl at one of them, a party girl who knew what she wanted and wasn't particular how she got it. She cut me out of the crowd and we went back to my place. She brought along a big bottle of homemade coconut liqueur. We played a drinking game before we got down to it.

"Coconut liqueur is sweet and it tastes like it hardly has any alcohol in it, but it's 40 or 50 proof. It sneaks up on you and then smacks you in the back of the head. We fucked a couple of times, and in between she fed me most of the bottle in foreplay. I don't remember anything after doing her the second time; I must have had a blackout.

"I woke up next morning buck-ass naked on the bathroom floor next to a toilet bowl full of vomit. Apparently I'd felt sick and made it to the bathroom, but passed out before I could flush. I could hear every note the radio in the next apartment was playing. They liked heavy metal and my head was pounding in time to the beat. It took three aspirins and a quart of water to quiet my head down, and I felt like hell for hours."

"Sounds about right. I put away most of a bottle at the party on top of a couple or three beers and the pot, and all of a sudden I got woozy. Clete took me into his bedroom and that's where it gets fuzzy. There are gaps in my memory, like a scratched DVD skipping chapters.

"I'm pretty sure Clete and I stripped down and made love, at least that was what my teenaged self thought we were doing. But then there was a guy on top of me, and I was cumming, and it wasn't Clete doing me. There was a gap and there I was kneeling between a guy's legs sucking him, and Clete was fucking me from behind. Another skip, and I was cumming with that bastard Buckmaster holding his wet dick and shooting on my belly. Then another, and I was titty-fucking the shortstop while he mauled my boobs and called me a slut while Clete leaned against the door swigging a beer. The shortstop blew his load on my chest, and Clete shook up the bottle and sprayed it over both of us, laughing like hell. A skip, and I was on my back with my legs hanging off the bed while somebody with a skinny dick fucked me. Then another, and I was cumming as the third baseman pulled out of me and shot his wad all over my boobs. That's all I remember, but I'm sure there was more.

"I woke up on the bed about four o'clock in the morning buck-ass naked, with my head spinning and aching like a thumb you hit with a hammer. There were fourteen ballplayers at that party. I think all of them had me one way or another that night while I was blackout drunk. I was covered in cum from my head to my tits to my pussy.

"The cabin was deserted. I stumbled into the bathroom. There was no soap that I could find, just a couple of hand towels, and no shower. I cleaned up as best I could, but I still looked like I'd spent the night being fucked like a whore on payday. I found my skirt and my blouse and my shoes, but my purse and my bra and my panties were gone. So I got dressed and started walking.

"A kindly farmer going to town pulled over and picked me up, and dropped me at a gas station that opened early and had a phone the gas jockey let me use while he ogled me. I called my mother. She wasn't at all happy being awakened when she was with her lover by a daughter whose existence she downplayed while she was trying to sink the hook and reel him in, and having to leave his nice warm bed to drive out to the boonies and fetch her. She took one look and spent the whole trip home snarling at me, calling me a cheap little slut, a dumb cunt who couldn't keep her legs together, who was putting her chances of landing the lawyer she was fucking at risk, though she didn't put it that baldly. She dropped me at home, told me to clean myself up and not to bother her again, then went back to her hopefully-soon-to-be-fiancé.

"Bitsy Anne called me a little after noon. She had my purse. Clete had taken it by mistake when he drove Carly Sue home after her boyfriend took off without her, and had brought it to church to give to her to get to me. She said he'd gone back to the cabin but I was gone." Her voice turned bitter. "Yeah, I was gone, but he didn't trouble himself to go looking for me, did he?"

Roger held her close and gently caressed her until she sighed and relaxed against him again. "And what happened then, sweetness?"

"Everything was normal on Monday, except for my tracking Clete down and handing his school ring back. But that night Rocket TV came on with its gossip show, 'Who's Doing What To Whom.' Its meat was snide comments and implications that strayed very close to slander but never quite crossed the line, you know what I mean?

"Somebody or a couple of somebodies had taken a bunch of pictures with a digital camera of that orgy in the bedroom. They never showed the faces of the boys, and they were careful to pixilate my nips and my pussy, but they didn't block out my face. The pix showed me on my back with a cock in my box, eagerly sucking someone, being fucked from behind, and writhing on the bed while somebody fucked my tits. And the dialogue implied that I was a cheap tart who could be had for the price of a bottle of booze, with all three holes open for business all night long.

" Well, that was it as far as my reputation in Gardendale went. My mother exploded, seeing those pix as proof everything she'd said when she'd picked me up was the gospel truth. She slapped me and knocked me down, screaming that if my little escapade broke up her affair with the lawyer, she'd kill me. When I got to school the next morning, the snickering and the catcalling from the girls was unbelievable, and the boys were worse. I stood it for the morning, but when they started in on me in gym class I couldn't take it any more. Bitsy Anne drove me home and I went into my room, locked the door, and stayed there.

"I only went to school when I had finals and on Senior Ditch Day, when the class went to Visionland Water Park. I should have skipped that, like I skipped the Prom. I made the mistake of wearing a bikini under my street clothes, and the boys spent their time trying to get me alone so they could grope me. I had to slap three of them, and kicked a couple in the knee to get them to let me alone. Clete tried it, too. But him, I got with a high-heeled clog right in the plums. I got him so bad, Bucky had to drive him home curled up in the back seat of his Trans Am with an ice bag on his balls.

"I raided my college fund to buy a cheap car and kept it over at Bitsy's place. I brought my clothes, some linens, and a few special keepsakes over and locked them in the trunk when my mother wasn't around, which she usually wasn't. She was spending all her time smothering that lawyer with sex to get him all locked in to marrying her.

"I went to graduation and Leenie Deschenes, who was on the yearbook staff, warned me that the editor had included me in the class "Most Likely To" section as 'The Girl Most Likely To Have Sex With You' based on that 'Who's Doing What To Whom' story. I chased him down and warned him that if he put that in the yearbook or the Class Will that gets read at graduation, I would sue him, the yearbook advisor, the principal, the school superintendent, and the entire school committee for defamation of character. I gave him one of the cards from my mother's lover that she had lying around and told the jerk if he went ahead, he'd be hearing from him. There was an emergency meeting of the yearbook staff and their advisor, and all of a sudden I was dropped from 'Most Likely To' and the Class Will.

"The second graduation was over, which my mother could not be bothered to attend, I got in my car and left town. I'd been planning to take a year between high school and college anyhow, but somehow that gap year never ended. Working got to be a habit and I just didn't go to college. I didn't come back to Gardendale until after my mother married the lawyer, a wedding I was not invited to, by the way. They moved down to Birmingham when he was elected to the state senate, and it was after they were gone I sensed the opportunity the Bird and Bottle represented to become an entrepreneur." She stopped to drink from her champagne flute and nibble her lover's ear before she continued.

"After that gangbang, although I discovered just how much of a slut I am and how much I enjoy sex and love cumming over and over, I would not allow anyone to have me in missionary, or titty-fuck with me lying on my back. I wanted to control the fucking, not have the man control me.

"I called the shots all the way, every time, even as I let them use me ... until you came along, Roger. You love me, and I know you love me, and I love you. With you, I can surrender and just let go. I love it when you take me and make me cum the way you do. I can give you control, knowing you won't abuse it. I feel safe with you. You can take me in any position you like, any time you want me. I want to be able to see you as you make love to me. I love fucking you, but making love with you is even better.