Trish's Place... Ch. 02

"Mmmm, just like that, sweetie, oh yeah, just....like....that," I whispered into his ear as he was slowly, but ever so nicely, fucking me.

My fingernails were raking down his back, leaving claw marks I was sure, but, at that moment, didn't really care. Reaching to his firm butt-cheeks, I dug my nails deep into his flesh and pulled him towards me as I rose to meet his thrusts, our bodies moving faster and faster,

"Mmmm, Mmmm, if you fucking stop, I'll fucking kill you," I heard my voice saying, my climax just about ready to pop. His cock seem to stiffen even more so, filling me, stretching my cunt to the max, as our pubic bones slammed together in our quest for release and satisfaction.

"Ahhhh, shit!" he cried when he could hold back no longer; retaining my finger-grip of his ass, I kept humping, as his cock emptied itself into the condom, and was rewarded with a small, but, satisfying orgasm.

He collapsed on top of me and as I hugged him to my body, I gave my hips a few more rotations which was all it took for me to pop off another little satisfier. I couldn't really complain; Stevie-boy held off an awfully long time to let me grab those first three monster orgasms, so these last little 'poppers' were just icing on the cake.

The thing is, my orgasms with him were peppered with mind-flashes of Marge and me humping each other that night, a few weeks ago.

"So, I guess you'll be leaving and not spending the night, as usual?" Steve said as he passed a joint to me.

"If it's not broke, why fix it?" I replied, smart-assed as usual, for me.

"You keep doing this, and I'm going to feel like a used slut," he said back to me.

"And well you should," I told him as I rolled off of him, and off of the bed to head for his shower.

"I'll be out in a bit," I said with a little wave over my shoulder as his eyes followed my ass into his bathroom.

"When do I see you again? Whenever you get horny, I suppose?" Steve said as I was about to step through his door and leave.

"I suppose; why, is that a problem for you?" I asked with my hand on the doorknob.

He chuckled, shaking his head, before he said, "It really is only on your terms, isn't it?"

"You knew that when we started fucking, Steve; I told you then, it's about the sex, nothing more and if that no longer works for you, tell me, and we'll go our separate ways," I said with a firmness that I meant.

Chuckling again, he smiled, saying, "Call me, Trish."

Smiling back, I left.

****

You see, the thing is, it's hard enough owning a bar, and it's even harder if you're a woman. Hell, it's hard being a woman and being in business, period, whether it's a bar, or a craft store. So, my personal view is that it would only complicate matters more if I was to start fucking customers, so I didn't.

Not males, anyway; but I'll come to that in just a bit.

I'm a healthy, 40-year old woman with a monstrous sexual appetite. In order to satisfy my desire for the occasional cock, I search elsewhere for sex partners, and not inside of my own place.

Don't get me wrong, there are several regular customers that I'd jump into the sack with, if they weren't my customer. But since they are, they're off limits to me, and to my apartment, above my bar.

The only exception to my own rule is with women, such as my roll in the hay a few weeks ago, with Marge. I've had women as overnight guests before, and the reason for this exception to my own policy is simply this; women don't brag about their sex lives to men, plain and simple. Some, but not all, don't really brag to their female friends.

But, in the long run, even if the story got out that I've bedded broads, it would serve my purposes by discouraging my male customers from trying to get into my pants.

And they do try.

I've got a good relationship with my customers and have solace in the knowledge that they have my back, are loyal to me, and watch over me, should a stranger become a bit out of control, or something along those lines.

The bulk of my regulars are from the 'trades'; contractors, electricians, plumbers, and the like, with a nice mix of everybody else thrown in for flavor. I suppose that in the whole scheme of things, my regulars would make a fine demographic stat of the economic-social face of our country.

They liked their beer, or Whiskey, or Scotches, liked watching football and baseball on my TVs, and were, on the whole, a mellow, well-behaved crowd.

And they provided me with a very nice life-style and that's not a bad thing.

I had met Steve a few months back, at a bookstore, nowhere near my part of town; coffee, conversation, and accepting his invite to dinner the following week, we went out.

And yes, we fucked on the first date; I've got nothing to prove by not doing so.

Steve was my newest in a long line of fuck-studs that I have had in my life to take care of my need for cock. He was smart, not bad looking, and good in bed; what's not to like? With him, as with them all, it was my way or no way; no sleepovers, not a hell of a lot of info about me except my first name, and damned sure, not the name of my bar.

No invite to come see me at the bar, no phone numbers except theirs for me to call them when I wanted to see them. Not all liked, or agreed to those ground rules, but many did.

I'm a great piece of ass; I know it, and I use it.

Checking in at the bar, I made my rounds, saying hello to my customers, and having two shots with two tables of regulars. I talked to my bartender, Jon, and checked with Mary, my floor girl and with no problems to handle, I said my goodnights, and walked up to my apartment.

Since I had showered at Steve's, I threw on a sleepshirt, crawled into my bed and was asleep within ten minutes of my head hitting the pillow.

My last conscious thought that night was of Marge going down on me, though, and not of Steve, or his dick.

****

"It's your nickel," I said, smart-assedly, when I picked up my cell phone to answer it as I drove through the city streets, running errands before heading to my bar.

Spring was around the corner, and except for that damned blizzard a couple of months ago, it had been a drier than normal winter season for us.

I had the sun-roof opened and was enjoying the warmth of the sun's rays that reached my somewhat freckled, Irish, face. I had just attended a 'thing' at my liquor distributor that was for select bar owners only.

Absinthe, the real stuff and not the pretenders, had been reintroduced into the American market recently, and my distributor was trying to ramp up interest to sell the product, of course. He had an Absinthe 'fountain' and went through the demos and all, showing us how it's used to make a 'perfect' cocktail as they do in Europe.

Of course we sampled, and while I like the slightly licorice taste of the liquor, I found it, on the whole, no big deal to the taste buds. The other thing is that I didn't really feel a quick pop or buzz from it, as I thought I would.

"Trish, its Marge," I heard her say as I pulled into my parking slot at my bar.

"Hey, girl," I cheerfully replied, "how's it hanging?"

"All's well in my world," she replied, before pressing on, "I was wondering if you were working tonight, and if you were, I was going to stop in to see you."

"Got another hot date?" I relied with a laugh, referring, of course, to her being stood up a couple of months ago.

"I do," she laughed, "but it's with a gal that I've been seeing, off and on, for a while and I thought she'd enjoy meeting you, and hanging out for a while at your place."

"Always like new customers, Marge, so come on by," I replied as I jumped from my vintage Saab.

"Okay, then, we'll see you sometime tonight; kiss-kiss," she cheerfully ended the conversation and hung up.

I liked Marge and not just because she gave good head, though that's always a plus in my book of etiquette. No, it was because of her sense of adventure, her willingness to be that 'other' person when she was away from her job and regular friends.

We had gone to dinner a couple of times, as friends, no sex involved, and found that we both shared a sarcastic humor in viewing the world around us, both enjoying the ribald, and neither taking life too seriously. We talked once a week or so, and while I didn't know if she was waiting for me to issue an invite back into my bed or not, I didn't obsess about a desire to bed her.

She was a nice playmate in bed and if it happened again, I wouldn't be opposed but I also wouldn't initiate the contact. I only did that with men; with women, if they wanted into my pants, they had to step up to the plate, so to speak.

Conceited? Perhaps, but that's the way I rolled, plain and simple.

And yes, I know that seems bitchy but I can live with that.

****

"Trish, this is my friend, Becky; Becky, my new friend, and favorite bartender, Trish," Marge said in way of introduction of me and a very young-looking, short-haired blonde who was climbing onto a bar stool, next to Marge.

"Pleased to meet you, Becky," I replied, and reaching to give Marge a 'cheek-kiss', European style, the three of us smiled at each other.

"What'll you have, ladies? The first one's on me," I asked while noticing that Becky was 'checking' me out.

"How 'bout a beer and a shot of Jose's finest, but only if you'll have one with us," Marge replied.

Didn't have to twist my arm.

I poured, I served, and I lifted my shot glass in an unspoken toast, and threw the fiery Tequila down my throat, followed by an involuntary grimace as the liquor slid into my body.

"Seems to be a bit busy tonight," Marge said as she casually glanced around my bar.

"Yep, Fridays and the end of the work week is always busy," I replied in answer to her comment.

"So, where are you two lovelies off to tonight?" I asked as I retrieved their empty shot glasses.

"We have a reservation for dinner at Le Chateau for nine o'clock," Marge replied, adding, "and I can quickly make it for three if you'd like to join us."

Le Chateau was a very tony eatery in town, opened only on Fridays and Saturdays, and a very 'hot ticket' indeed.

"Tempting," I replied, "but I need to tend to business, but thanks for the offer; maybe another time?"

"Rain-check given," Marge smilingly replied.

The three of us chatted for a bit and I noticed that while Becky participated in our conversation, she deferred to Marge to carry most of their share of conversation, her eyes floating between looks to Marge and me.

I was right about the 'young-looking' thing about Becky as it turned out; she had just turned twenty-one, and was in her final year at the University, and was interning at Marge's place of employment. The dinner tonight was in celebration of Becky's upcoming graduation from Marge.

"You closing tonight?" Marge asked as they gathered their purses in preparation of leaving for their dinner reservation.

"No, Jon and Mary are; I'll probably go home around ten-thirty or so, after it slows down a bit," I replied.

"Staying upstairs?" she inquired further.

"Nope, gonna' sleep at the house tonight," I answered.

"How about joining Becky and me for a nightcap at my place?" Marge offered.

Standing with them at the end of the bar, I could feel definite lustful vibes from Becky as she silently waited for me to answer Marge's question. I found that very intriguing.

"Call me when you're ready to leave the restaurant and I'll let you know then, okay?"

"Please think about it," Becky replied, "could be fun," smiling impishly as she said it.

Marge said nothing, but she was grinning from ear to ear.

And yes, Ms. Priss tingled a wee bit.

****

So, to cut to the chase as 'they' say, this was the reason that I was driving across town at near midnight with the roof on my Saab opened.

Arriving at Marge's, I parked in her driveway and walked to her front door, wondering, but yet anticipating, what was awaiting me behind the 'Greed Door'; no, really, Marge's front door is a shade of green.

Marge opened the door just as I was about to ring the bell, ushered me into her home with a kiss on the lips and an ice-cold beer to my hand.

"Like your style, Marge," I said in response as I licked her moistness off my lips with my tongue.

"Love your lips, Trish," she smilingly replied, winking afterwards.

"Where's your intern?" I asked, looking around as I walked toward the sunken living room.

"Right here," I heard from my right, the voice coming from a wet bar tucked into a corner of the huge living room.

Turning, I took in the sight of a naked Becky. Well, naked except for the leather collar around her neck. Honestly, she looked damned hot.

She was small, tiny really, with small 'girlish' tits, and kept her pubic hair trimmed to a very small vertical line of hair ending just above her clit.

"Shocked?" I heard Marge's voice asking, her mouth close to my ear, her breath hot and moist on my skin.

"Intrigued, is more correct," I finally answered, slowly, my voice betraying the lust that had suddenly invaded my being. Invaded? Who am I kidding? The truth is that what was now before my eyes was what I fantasized about on the drive over, hoping that I'd wind up in a threesome with Marge and Becky. The truth is that I wanted this to happen and couldn't believe that it was about to.

I offered no resistance when Marge leaned in to kiss me on my ear, to nibble at my neck, all the while her hands caressing my breasts. As Marge continued to arouse me with her kisses and touches, Becky walked over with two shot glasses in her hands, drinking hers while she stared into my eyes, and then tipping the shot glass so that I could take mine.

The Tequila burned as it slammed down my throat but the heat seemed to make what Marge was doing even more sensuous, causing me to move my head in concert with her lips until my tongue was driving deep down Marge's opened mouth.

Not to be left out, Becky kneeled in front of me and ever so teasingly, slid her hands up my skirt, removing my panties first, then my skirt next. As Marge and I tried our damnedest to swallow each other's tongue, Becky proceeded to make love to Ms. Priss with a skill that no twenty-one year old should possess.

"Becky, go to my bedroom and wait for us," I heard Marge say when she broke our kiss; "you know what you have to do."

"Yes ma'am," Becky quickly replied, and then getting up from her knees, she disappeared down a hallway.

"You ready for some serious fucking?" Marge said seductively as she unbuttoned my blouse, dropping it to the floor with my skirt and panties. Keeping her eyes burning into mine, she then quickly stripped, moving to kiss me while her finger found my wet slit.

She finger-fucked me just short of release, all the while letting me suck on her tongue as if it were a cock. But just as I was about to come, she somehow sensed it and stopped before I could pop my load.

"No fair," I said as my breathing betrayed my frustration and my mouth found her tits for me to suck.

"Oh, that feels so good, Trish, oh yes, baby-girl, just like that," she said with clear arousal in her voice.

"Ready for Becky, Trish?" she asked as she held my head to her breasts.

"Oh yeah," returning to suck her nipple between my lips.

"Then let's not keep the girl waiting..."

Becky was laying on the large, king-sized bed, her eyes closed and her hand slowly pulling and playing with her pussy lips, the wetness of arousal clearly visible in the soft glow of the candles that lit the room.

"I didn't tell you that you could play with yourself, Becky; you've been naughty and must be punished," Marge said as she pulled me onto the bed with her.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I won't do it again," Becky replied as she removed her hands, laying them on either side of her head.

"Help me, Trish, and tie her hands to the bedposts with those silk scarves while I tie her feet, okay baby?"

I've never been involved with S&M or bondage in any of my sexual trysts, but to be honest, I found the whole thing extremely arousing. Doing as Marge asked, I tied both of Becky's hands to the bedposts, teasing her with kisses to her face as I did so.

I was turned on, short and simple.

Marge had finished with Becky's feet and bending over Becky's moist pussy, she began to lick and slide her magical tongue all over Becky's pussy. I lay next to Becky and began to fondle and suck her 'girly' tits, surprised by how large her nipples were when aroused.

Becky was moaning and thrashing her hips up to meet Marge's mouth, but Marge continued to tease and taunt her with her tongue. I was definitely ready to climax and I moved to kneel over Becky's head, lowering my pussy to her mouth.

She reached to meet my pussy with her mouth and tongue, deftly sliding her wet, warm tongue over my 'little man' before slipping into my pussy.

The girl knew how to eat pussy!

It was a quick but powerful orgasm, one that had me pulling Becky's head into my pussy with my hands, my hips thrusting hard against her face. When the final orgasmic shake stopped, I dropped onto my back, next to Becky's now sweating body, exhaling loudly as I did so. Looking down to where Marge was, Marge was now wearing a strap-on dildo, one of serious thickness.

Silently Marge untied Becky, telling her to treat me to another climax. Becky smilingly climbed between my legs and had my attention in a nano-second.

Marge climbed onto the bed and lifting Becky's ass up, she positioned the dildo and slowly entered her, causing her to increase her oral assault to me. Marge fucked Becky harder and harder, and reaching under Becky's flat stomach, began to massage Becky's clit as she slammed the dildo into Becky's pussy.

Becky climaxed just as I did and once again, I held her head to my thrusting hips and pussy with my hands in her hair. Marge smiled to me, taking off the strap-on and pushing Becky out of her way, she climbed over me and dropped her pussy to my very willing mouth.

Marge was ready.

Marge didn't last long, but Marge climbed off of my face with a huge smile, pulling Becky be the hand to replace her on my face.

That was alright. I was ready to eat more pussy, never before in my life had I been so ready to eat pussy. My personal favorite, however, was letting both Marge and Becky fuck me with the well-used dildo.

While I've bedded women before, this was my first threesome with two other broads.

I fell asleep, after the last daisy chain., the taste of pussy on my lips, and my pussy hurting a bit. But, it was a 'good' kind of hurt.

Yes, indeedy.

I did not go home, but then I would guess that you've already surmised that little tidbit of information.