Wilmington Woman's Club Ch. 75byParis Waterman©
Val and Marty Meet
She was beginning to snort. K.C. always snorted just before coming. Marty loved watching her cum; how she scrunched up her face, and how her eyes closed, and how she clenched her teeth.
As she reached the apex of her climax K.C. had a tendency to emit a long groan and then beat frantically at him with her fists. At this point K.C. was more animal-like than woman. Her heaving breasts pressed into his chest and he felt her heart pounding against his.
Marty had held off coming and contented himself with nibbling at her ear causing K.C. to shiver and turn slightly; his fingers replaced his cock inside her and began a slow, methodical exploration of her vagina.
"What? Oh, yeah... that's nice, Marty."
Still jabbing his fingers into her, he added a third, turning his hand palm up in search of her g-spot. The familiar moan of gratification and the spongy softness combined to alert him that he'd found it.
"Got it baby! Get ready for a rough ride."
"The rougher the better, lover!"
He inhaled, savored her scent and gradually increased his thrusting.
Marty let a large gob of saliva fall upon the base of her vagina, worked it into her anus by rubbing lightly with his thumb then turned his hand so that it appeared to be shaking hands with her cunt and sent four fingers surging into her with a rapidity that took her breath away.
Five thrusts later, Marty yanked the hand out and slapped her sharply on the mouth of her twat.
"Hurt you, baby?"
"NO! I LOVED IT! DO IT AGAIN!"
Three consecutive slaps followed, each drew a satisfied bark from K.C.'s throat.
Then he fed the slimy juice covered fingers to her mouth one at a time and laughed as she hungrily sucked each one clean.
"Cock," she mumbled incoherently. "I want your cock!"
Marty knew better than to listen to this woman's demands and did the opposite -- falling upon her - lapping and licking at her folds, chewing the inner and sucking on the outer, bringing her to the edge of another tumultuous climax before crawling up her body and kissing her hard.
K.C. moaned throughout the kiss, and when it was over, Marty hissed in her ear, "Now for something different."
"Huh?" the stunned stripper mumbled, clearly incoherent and with her mind cluttered with sexual craving.
Marty slapped her pussy four consecutive times, and then inserted two fingers into her anus and four fingers from his other hand into her vagina. He waited for a count of three, and then began a rhythmic jabbing of fingers... first into the anus then as they began their withdrawal, the four fingers rammed into her cunt. Over and over and over; again and again and again they plowed into her, until K.C. was coming and coming and coming. Incoherent and confused, but rutting animalistically against the tormentingly sensual action of both hands fingering her.
He paused... allowing her to reach a point from which her sensibilities returned then mounted her, using her ass and cunt interchangeably, he fucked her relentlessly until she was lost in a sensual oblivion, and only then did he allow himself to cum inside her.
"How many times did you cum?" he asked her. It had become a ritual with them.
"I'm not sure, Marty. I mean, I came plenty, but I lost track of them after a while."
"You were counting weren't you?"
"Yeah, sure... I got to fourteen, but then you did that thing... you know where you started slapping my twat and I kinda blanked out for a while."
"And when you came back?" he asked pensively.
"Maybe four or five more before I went bonkers.
Then they were coming so fast I couldn't keep up."
"So, best guess then?"
"At least twenty... twenty-two, best guess."
"Nice to see I haven't lost my touch," he said without being egotistical about it.
"Oh no, Marty," she said. "I was telling one of the girls about you and she offered me $200 bucks if I'd introduce you."
"I thought you strippers got all the dick you wanted."
"No way! All's we meet are lonely husbands and weirdo's. They lust after a dream, not us. In fact, being perfectly honest about it, we've all fucked a couple guys from the club. But ask any of the girls they'll all say the same thing: ain't none of them worth a shit."
"You met me at the club."
"No I didn't. I met you outside the club.
Remember? My car wouldn't start and you helped me out?"
"I remember, K.C. I remember it well."
She giggled, hoping he might throw her another fuck.
But his mind had already turned to other matters. Gentner matters.
"Shit I gotta figure out how to get to this Marcolina guy, K.C."
"I told you about the wife... Valerie."
"Yeah, you mentioned she was into sex shows or something like that."
"Well she tried to hire some girls to fuck some guys in front of an audience."
"That's unusual, K.C."
"Tell me about it," she said and reached for a cigarette.
Marty lit it for her, and after taking a deep drag, K.C. offered her opinion.
"Thing is, she used an intermediary to approach you, right?"
"Yeah, this private investigator."
"Recall the name?"
"Um... shit I can't...."
"Think..." he said, trying to coax it out of her.
"It was... um, like a car...."
Marty sprang from the bed and found the yellow pages and thumbed through them.... Private Investigators... Carson-Crabbe -- Dalton -- Desoto!"
"Yeah! That's it, Desoto!" K.C. yelped.
Marty hugged her. After a moment he said, "Maybe I'll have a talk with him."
"Do you think that's wise, baby?"
"He's a man; I rough him up a little, who knows what he'll say."
"He looked like a cop, Marty," K.C. said, worried about Marty's well-being.
He thought about it for a minute. He took the cigarette from her and took a drag himself, then exhaled it toward the ceiling.
"You have a point. He might be a tough guy. He might be a former cop. I might find out something useful, but at the same time I might tip them off to the fact that I'm onto them. You're right, baby. It's not worth it. We know about them, they know nothing about us. Gentner does, but not that much and this way he stays in the dark. Yeah, you're right."
"So," K.C. cooed, you gonna jump my bones again?"
He smiled at her. "Why not? I'd say you earned it, wouldn't you?"
"I could call Star up. She'd love to join us."
"Do that, baby. I'm getting real horny all of sudden."
Later that night, after K.C.'s friend Star had left, Marty concluded that he could get to Marcolina through his wife, and broached an idea to K.C.
"She's into sex... all kinds it seems. If I bump into her how hard could it be for me to get into her pants?"
"Under the right conditions, I'd say not that hard at all."
"What do you mean, under the right conditions?"
"Well you can't walk up to her and say 'Wanna fuck, Mrs. Marcolina?'"
Marty laughed. "You're so right. So how do I approach her?"
"I don't know," K.C. admitted. "But first impressions are important."
"They are, aren't they?" he said giving it some thought.
"So say you meet her... then what?"
"I say something that's not too stupid. Then I find a way to meet her again, say someplace where she feels safe; maybe I can buy her a drink, or give her a ride someplace."
"Starting to sound like a plan, Marty," K.C. said, pleased with him.
K.C. had Star and another stripper get up early the next three days and discreetly follow Mrs. Marcolina.
It was at the hairdresser's that Star overheard Val telling the hairdresser that she was going to New York the following day on a shopping excursion.
From there it was easy to figure out which flight Val would take to the Big Apple, but it took a little undercover work to learn her return flight. But with Marty posing as Joe Marcolina, the airline freely provided her return flight number and time of arrival.
At first Marty considered taking the flight to New York and striking up an acquaintance with her. But K.C. pointed out several flaws and he dropped the idea.
"You would be better off meeting her at the airport when she returns," Star said off-handedly.
"Why?" Marty asked.
"Granted it's not as good as sitting next to her for an hour or so on the flight. But that makes bumping into her again a lot riskier back here."
"How so, Star?"
"First there's no guarantee you'll get to sit next to her, or even close by. She may not remember you later, although I'm inclined to think she would. Still, running into you twice in a day may appear suspicious, so if you do it should be more accidental, you know?"
"I agree with you. It has to be flawless, an accident, but seemingly plausible. In fact, it should be very plausible," K.C. offered, and went on to say: "We don't know what she knows about her husband's business. I mean his shady stuff. It would be too obvious to be on the same flight back, especially if you strike up any conversation with her."
And so Marty agreed with his strippers that he should bump into Val at the airport on her return. "I'll start the foreplay at the airport," he said. "I'll have to wing it from there."
"We'll figure out where, somehow." K.C. laughed.
"Yeah, he'll wing it at an as yet undetermined place," Star said, pointing at Marty's groin and the noticeable bulge therein.
Both Marty and K.C. joined Star in the laughter. A moment later, the three of them tumbled back onto the bed.
Fun and games again.
The 'undetermined' spot was found in the next morning's Wilmington Star-News. A dinner honoring renowned banker, Gerry Attric was to be held at the Hilton that night. It seemed logical that Joe Marcolina would be there. It followed that Val's shopping in New York may have to do with finding a dress or other item needed for the event.
The foreplay began when Marty 'accidently' met Valerie Marcolina at the Wilmington Airport Terminal. K.C. had had Star follow Valerie as she boarded the flight to New York just to make certain she left town.
Marty and K.C. were waiting when Val disembarked from the 4:30 flight.
K.C. spotted her and alerted Marty who was sitting at the bar. He quickly found K.C. standing nervously outside the Ladies room.
"She's inside," she gasped, having almost run the length of the airport terminal to catch up with Mrs. Marcolina.
"Go on in; maybe talk to her if you can. I'll do something when she comes out."
'"Damned if I know right now. I'll think of something," he said and laughed at the absurdity of his remark. "I plan heists. I'll think of something."
KC was feigning use of the airport terminal's ladies room; and Marty was waiting just outside the door when Val emerged loaded down with dresses and presents for Gerry Attric's dinner later that evening. She promptly collided with him, dropping her packages.
Marty apologized profusely, and Val let him, knowing full well it was entirely her fault. He gave her his shy smile, for there was something about her manner that told him she'd prefer shyness to boldness.
"Hey," he said, "I'm awfully sorry about that," as he stooped to gather up Val's packages; surprising himself by initiating a conversation with a complete stranger when he wanted nothing more than to keep a low profile while in town.
Val gave him a smile, and told him that he wasn't at all to blame, that she had not been looking when she barged out of the restroom. Then she looked around hoping to see someone she knew to put an end to what to her was a meaningless conversation.
Marty began to introduce himself, Val frowned, and said, "I'm sorry, but I have to go, I'm late for a meeting."
He watched her ass wiggle away in the passing crowd, thinking, she may be the first woman I've really wanted since the woman in Asbury Park, and now she's gone.
His brief reverie was interrupted when KC came out and tapped his shoulder, saying, "Letting that Machiavellian mind of yours wander a little, Marty?"
"Um, no... I just... she has a terrific looking ass and I started daydreaming."
"Well, keep it in mind who that ass belongs too.
"You book me into the Hilton?"
"You know it, Marty."
"Um, we were speaking of ass a minute ago."
"I'd like a little of yours. Are you in the mood?"
K. C. laughed. "Beats having a drink at the airport bar," and took his arm as he retrieved his bag from a nearby locker.
Several hours later, Marty spied Val in the lobby of the Hilton. She was wearing an expensive, gorgeous royal blue dress, which flattered her breasts and showed her legs off to their best advantage and didn't see him as she entered the restroom just outside the bar.
He waited patiently for her to come out. When she did, he followed her back into the banquet hall where the speakers were trying to roast Gerry Attric.
A few short minutes later, Val wandered away and found her way to the hotel bar, ordered a drink and began to flirt with the bartender. Marty found a nearby phone and called K.C. in the room. "I've found her. I'm going to try and pick her up. She's slightly drunk and if I'm lucky, I'll buy her a couple more drinks and hustle her up to the room."
"Then I'll get out. I'll take my stuff with me."
"Yeah, thanks, K.C. so where are you going?"
"Home, where else?"
"Thanks again. I'll touch base with you in the morning; fill you in on what happens with her."
"Not the sordid details, Marty, just the pertinent facts, okay?"
"Yeah," he laughed and then hung up the phone then returned to the bar. When he saw an opportunity, he sat down next to her, and placed his hand on her back. Val turned, saw him and smiled. She was slightly drunk, and a lustful expression crossed her eyes, as she took him in.
He had thick black hair, and slight evening stubble shaded his strong jaw line.
He's got eminently kissable lips, she thought, and a nanosecond later followed with: And those dark, liquid eyes tell me he wants to fuck me.
Christ, what a slut I am turning into.
She knew her eyes must be sending back the same message, and took a deep breath and said, "I remember you. "You helped me with my packages."
"Yes, and I've been thinking about you ever since."
His words penetrated her the same way a hot middle finger would have parted her creamy cunt.
She had never met anyone as confident and self-assured as he was. He seemed so shy when we bumped into each other, she thought and smiled; her mind was momentarily filled with images of him caressing her nude body with a rose. "Thank you," she said simply.
"I'm so glad I ran into you again," he said as his eyes raked her body. Real pearls draped her neck, and diamond earrings hung from her earlobes. She also wore an engagement ring the size of a charcoal briquette. She was definitely high class.
"Do you have a light?" A cigarette appeared out of nowhere and she angled it toward him, the diamond and emerald bracelet on her wrist sparkling under the lights of the bar. She used the cigarette as a prop, and she used it better than anyone Marty had ever seen.
"Sorry, they recommend that I stay away from open flames," he replied, and got a condescending smile from her as the bartender waved a lit match in front of Val's face.
"I don't play with matches, but I can buy you a drink if you'll let me."
"I don't see the harm in a little drink."
"That's what I've always said."
She didn't mince words. This was a woman who definitely knew what she wanted. "Chardonnay would be nice."
"Yes. Bring us a nice California Chardonnay," he said, nodding to the bartender. "Now where was I? Oh, yes. Glad to catch up with you again."
"Well you've caught me, but I'm with my husband."
"He's still inside at the reception though," Marty offered as if that gave them a reason to become friendlier.
"Yes, he is," she admitted then sighed.
For the first time Marty noticed a chink in her platinum armor. "It seems like he's always in another room."
The bartender brought the wine.
""You live here...in Wilmington," he said, making it a fact and not a question.
And you don't," Val replied, taking the same tact with him as he had with her.
"Tell me," she said, waving her cigarette imperiously. "What is it that you do?"
"What would you want me to do?"
She laughed and placed her right hand on top of his left.
"That's a very tempting question," she said picking up her glass of wine and taking a small sip. "Are you staying here in the hotel?"
Marty nodded, took his glass, and looking into her eyes, touched it to hers, "To you, beautiful."
"How nice," Val said a second later, but it took all her willpower to remain standing, for her knees were shaking violently. She forced herself to continue talking. "And now your hand is on my back."
He heard the slur in her words, and let his hand drop to cup the swell of her behind. She managed to laugh, and say, "Why, thank you."
Marty took a chance and sent out a direct probe. "You and your husband don't get along?"
"Unfortunately, yes." She pointed to the lobby just outside the bar. "He's that tall lummox over there." Joe Marcolina was talking with several real estate types between the Ballroom and the bar.
"Well he's kind of far away," Marty said, hoping to keep the conversation going; hoping to somehow persuade her to leave with him, possibly get her to his room.
"I don't care for him so much these days," she said, trying to make it sound off-handed but missing her mark.
"Caught him fucking around on you?"
She waited for a count of three before answering. "You're very blunt, but yes, I did, and he hasn't stopped."
"And that's a pity," Marty said rubbing his hand on her derriere.
"I've stopped caring about it. The only thing... the only reason I stay married to him is Caroline, our daughter. She's so young... it would be traumatic for her if we went our separate ways. And...."
"And what?" Marty inquired.
"He's paying me to stay with him... for political reasons. He intends to run for mayor."
Marty changed tactics, saying, "I'm hungry, are you?"
"I could eat something. All I've been doing is drinking."
"That could be a waste of time, given how young the evening is."
"You have plans for me?"
Maybe, but let's get out of here and grab a bite to eat. I'm hungry."
"And when a man's hungry a woman should see to it that he gets fed," Val added, and they shared a laugh as they readied to leave the hotel bar.
They hailed a cab and headed to the Deluxe, near the foot of Market Street. In the cab, Val asked Marty if he was married.
"No, never had the pleasure. There was someone... but I was away and she died. It took me a long time to get over it."
"I'm so sorry," Val said and meant it.
"Thank you, I appreciate it," he said and covered her hand with his.
He's nice, Val told herself, but why am I going off with him? A moment later she admitted the reason to herself. He's hot. I'm turning into a slut. Maybe I've always been a slut. Anyway, I need a good fucking.
They arrived at Deluxe, were seated and ordered a bottle of wine.
"I should tell you that I have a strong imagination. And I never got a chance to fulfill that part of me with Gloria."
So, that was her name, Val thought.
"I've always thought that when two people decide they want to be together that they should take the time to explore sex rather than just jump one another's bones."
Val's eyebrows arched at this, the conversation had taken a decidedly risqué turn. "Oh," she said, unable to contain the words from spilling out. She felt nervous butterflies swarming around in her stomach, and took a sip of her wine.
"So you're an explorer, are you?" Val said. She had done plenty of exploring with Joe, and then some more with Gerry Attric, but something told her that with this guy it would be different and better.