8 comments/ 177260 views/ 27 favorites Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn By: MisfitToy This is just the second chapter in a longer story. For character background and storylines, please check out Retirement Party Dress. I hope you enjoy. * That one afternoon with Anita Patterson changed me. Spoiled me really. As I said before, I've always had a thing for older women. That afternoon with Anita in the dressing room made me a cub in search of a cougar forever. Unfortunately, the cougar I wanted never came back into my life. I tried hooking up with her again but it never came to fruition. Waiting for her to come back to the shop, driving by her house, hoping to catch a glimpse of her or maybe 'bump' into her in town, all of my efforts went for naught. Like Bob Seger sang, "I used her, she used me, but neither one cared. We were getting our share." Only I didn't get my share. At twenty, I had no idea what love was and I certainly wasn't in love with Anita but I wanted a lot more than just that one time in the dressing room. Slowly, I came to realize my afternoon with Anita was going to be a one-time thing. Of course, I was depressed! This was the woman of my dreams, my dirty, filthy, sleazy, wet dreams, and we were to be no more than a fling she had. A moment in time when all the stars were aligned just right, only to never happen again. Frankly, it pissed me off. Now, older women at work surrounded me but none of them ever came close to being another Anita. Why would they? She was a once-in-a-lifetime woman, the brightest chapter in my memoirs. Once I accepted that, my libido took over. Like I said, I was surrounded by older women and I kept looking for the next encounter. The only problem was, there was no other woman like Anita. None of these other women ever created a lust so strong in me that I would be as bold as I was with her. I never got the same unspoken signals from them that I got from Anita. I was as horny as a rabbit in Spring but none of these other women seemed to get it. As depressed as I was, I decided to take my next day off and spend it in the city. An hour-and-a-half car ride later, I was walking away from a parking garage along the crowded city streets. I always hated the city. The people there were always so rude but I thought a change of scenery might do me some good. Besides, it was summer time and pretty girls would be everywhere. I walked aimlessly through the downtown for a few minutes until I noticed Mrs. Hawthorn, a customer at the dress shop, walking a few buildings ahead of me. Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn, not Sue or Susan or Suzy, but Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn, wife of Philip Hawthorn, the Mayor and richest man in my little backwater town. Philip Hawthorn was close to seventy years old but Mrs. Hawthorn was no more than thirty-five, maybe thirty-seven years old at best. Obviously, she had been the trophy wife of a few years gone by. She was short, maybe 5'-2". Her blonde hair very stylishly cut just above the shoulder, clearly done at one of the outlandishly priced boutiques here downtown. She always wore the most expensive, current, conservative fashions, but it was evident that her body was still in incredible shape. Her breasts were not big, maybe even a little on the smallish side, but never with a hint of sag. However, Mrs. Hawthorn's legs and backside were her greatest asset. Sinewy for her height, her legs retained the athletic, lean look of a woman half her age. Her skirts and dresses were always tight enough to show off the perfect curvature of her still pert ass. I always noticed her from behind whenever she came into the store. And from behind was the best way to deal with Mrs. Hawthorn because even though her face was still beautiful and flawless, her personality wasn't. She was the classic rich bitch, with a tongue sharper than any razor could ever be. Her husband was wealthy, which made her better, above all of the other working-class scum who had to serve her and she never let you forget it either. I thought nothing of Mrs. Hawthorn other than contempt for her narcissistic attitude but from this vantage point, I did have a pretty good view of her shapely legs and delicious ass as she walked ahead of me. So with nothing much planned for the day other than girl watching, I decided to follow Mrs. Hawthorn's round, tight ass as it swayed back and forth beneath her skirt on her trip through the city. A few minutes later, the sight of a hand squeezing that round, tight ass, broke my stare and when I looked up, that hand did not belong to her husband. Mrs. Hawthorn turned, startled, then smiled and finally kissed the lips of the handsome man who had joined her. He was maybe her age, dressed splendidly in a suit and tie. Their kiss was more than a greeting for he held his lips against hers just a little too long. She didn't seem to mind the kiss or the grope much either. 'The bitch! She's cheating on her husband', I finally realized and for whatever reason, it made me angry. Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn always presented herself as sophisticated, cultured, above all of the riff-raff that populated her quaint little hamlet. Yet here she was with another man. I slid my hands into my pocket and inadvertently brushed my cell phone. That's when I got the idea. Smiling to myself, I took out my phone and began videotaping this little clandestine meeting. For what reason, I didn't know. Maybe, somewhere in the future, it would come in handy. I followed Mrs. Hawthorn and her lover as they held hands and walked hurriedly through town, videotaping as they went. The camera caught every smile, squeeze, kiss and grope along the way. It was barely twelve o'clock when they walked into the downtown Sheraton Hotel. They made their way to the bar and found a secluded booth in the corner. Not secluded enough. From my perch nearby, I was able to videotape their kissing and groping. Her hand in his lap, his in hers, my phone captured it all. The reflection in the large mirror showed Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn's thighs parting under the table as her lover's hand found the soft wetness between them. In no time, they closed their tab and headed up to a room. Was it his, was it hers? Who cares! The downtown Sheraton has one of those big, expansive lobbies with ornate glass elevators adorning the far side. I videotaped as the two of them kissed and fondled each other in the elevator, oblivious to any spying eyes like mine. I watched as his hand probed up under her skirt from behind , their tongues dancing together inside her mouth. The doors opened and they disappeared like school kids down the hall towards the rooms. It wasn't catching them in the act but it was close enough and what that would mean to me I still had not figured out. All I knew was that it pissed me off when she acted superior towards me and the rest of the employee's at the shop. The rest of my day was less eventful and a few days later I found myself at work, completely having forgotten the little video I had shot of Mrs. Hawthorn's indiscretion. That is, until she walked into the store. She was dressed stylishly in a gray skirt just above the knee, stockings, low-slung black heels and a short sleeve, high-collared, light gray sweater, Cashmere probably, all accentuated with a string of white pearls. Immediately, I made myself scarce. No one ever wanted to wait on Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn unless they had to. She treated you like shit, took up all of your time, expected flawless service but never seemed to be satisfied. I grabbed a broom and began sweeping in back. Poor Madeline, the store manager, was left to deal with her and after forty-five minutes, Mrs. Hawthorn had finally selected her new dress and was checking out. Figuring I was safe, I swept my way out front. "I don't care. It's not my problem", I heard her telling Madeline. Spotting me and certainly within earshot, I heard her continue, "Him. What about Slingblade over there? He will deliver it to my house no later than four o'clock this afternoon. My husband and I have a very important dinner this evening and that dress had better be there on time." She snatched up her charge card and purse and walked out of the store. 'That fuckin' bitch!' I thought. Madeline looked at me, a pained, sorrowful, 'I'm-sorry' look and before she could say it I asked, "What's the address?" I waited as the seamstress finished and then drove toward the Hawthorn estate. With each passing minute, my anger grew. 'Who the fuck does she think she is?' 'Rich, arrogant bitch.' 'She's nothing but a whore.' That's when it came to me. The video. I didn't know why I had taken it but now I knew how I was going to use it. I pulled my beater of a car up the manicured drive that led to the house and parked right in front. Surprisingly, Mrs. Hawthorn answered the door. "Yes?" she asked. This only made me madder. I stood in the doorway, holding her dress on a hanger, protected in store labeled garment bag. She acted like she had no idea who I was or why I was even there. She was about to find out. I stepped forward, pushing my way past her into the foyer. Looking around, I held the dress out toward her with one hand not saying anything. Angrily, she snatched the dress from my hand and said, "How rude! You're not allowed in here. Service calls are taken around back. Quit gawking. I'll have your job for your impudence." I continued to gaze at the well furnished vestibule, ignoring her completely except for my extended arm with the dresses dangling off of my forefinger. Mockingly, I sneered and said, "Just relax Suzy. You're not going to do anything but what I tell you." This only enraged her more. She snarled and replied, "How dare you? My name is Suzanne. Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn and I can have you squished like the bug you are. Look, I don't know who you think you are, but you can kiss your job good bye." I turned toward her and moved a step closer as I smiled. Even though she was clearly shorter than me, her rage made her seem much bigger. "Now, now Suzy," I mocked, "Don't get your lace panties in a bunch. Or is it a thong? You seem more like a g-string kind of gal to me." Shocked and infuriated, she tried to slap my face with her free hand, only to have me catch it in mine. I held her by her wrist, leaned in closer, stared into her eyes and whispered, "You know those lace panties. The one's stained with that other guy's cum." Her eyes instantly flashed and I knew I had her. She immediately regained her composure but the cat was already out of the bag. "Why you little ... Get the hell out of here," she growled. Still holding her wrist, I replied, "What, no tip for the service?" She sneered, "You're nothing but a little boy. A little, dirty, disgusting pig. I'll have your job for this." I retorted, "And you're nothing but a cheap, two-timing slut and I've got the video to prove it." Feeling her fortitude weaken slightly, I let go of her arm. Feigning ignorance, she said, "I don't know what you're talking about. Now get out of here before I call the police. They work for my husband." She stepped to the side as she held the dress in one hand and the open door in the other. I ignored her orders and continued by saying, "You know exactly what I'm talking about. The other day. In the city. The downtown Sheraton. Mmmm, you look like a good kisser. Good with your mouth. He seemed to like your ass and pussy better though. His hands were all over them. I bet he fucked you good that afternoon, didn't he? Just the way you like it." I watched as my words registered in her eyes. She stood there, motionless, holding the dress and door. A few silent seconds later, she looked first at me and then her feet. Slowly, she replied, "I don't know what you're talking about. Now, for the last time, go before I call the police." I turned and walked into what I thought was the living room. It could have been a den, library, study, hotel lobby, you name it. The room was certainly big enough and furnished with all of the above offerings. Suzanne Hawthorn followed me inside. Placing the dress over the back of an overstuffed leather chair, she sternly said, "Fine. You give me no choice. I'm calling the police. They work for me." "Go ahead," I carelessly replied. "They'll probably call your husband, his honor the Mayor. Won't he be surprised when he sees the little video I took of you and that handsome man in the dark blue suit the other day? All of that kissing, fondling, groping. His hands all over your body. The Mayor will love the way you spread your legs for that guy so he could play with your pussy in the bar." Turning back toward her, I continued. "Mr. Hawthorn is gonna love the way that guy's tongue invaded your mouth while his hands moved up under your skirt on that elevator. Your ass on display for all to see." Feeling bolder, I bluffed, "I followed you up there. The sounds you two made. Like two animals in heat. You're quite the loud, passionate slut, aren't you? Loud, except for when his cock was in your mouth." Suzanne froze in her tracks. She knew I had her or at least she knew she couldn't take the chance that I had a videotape. "Let me see what you're talking about," she angrily said. Shaking my head, I knew she was cooked. I smiled and said, "Now, now Suze, all in good time. But it seems we have a little dilemma here." Frustrated and irritated, she said, "What? What's the problem?" "Well Suze, there's the whole issue of my tip," I said. She sighed heavily and reached for her purse. She opened it, fumbled for her cash and replied, "Fine. How much money do you want for the video?" She stood there with her wallet in hand, staring at me. My eyes dropped and moved over her body. Slowly, leeringly, I drank in all of her curves. Her breasts rose with each emotional breadth she took. Her hips flared nicely against that tight gray skirt and I suddenly felt bold, powerful and in control. Maybe it was the light, maybe it was the circumstances, or maybe it was the change in her demeanor, all I knew was that I was incredibly aroused at that moment. For the first time, I had knocked Suzanne Hawthorn off her high pedestal and it felt very good. The power, the control I had taken, all of it was intoxicating. I felt like I was slipping into that dressing room on Anita again. Bold, powerful, confident. I quietly said, "I don't want your money." Her eyes met mine and she knew instantly. I looked lustfully in her eyes and said, "I want you to suck my cock, slut." Outraged, she angrily shouted, "What? What did you say to me? You're nothing but a child. Go to hell! That's not going to happen little boy so get that through your thick skull." My anger met hers. The fire in my eyes matched only by my intensity. I reached forward and grabbed the back of her head. Curling her expensively coiffed hair in my fingers, her head turned upward towards the large vaulted ceiling. From somewhere deep and dark inside of me, I growled, "Yes it is slut. Now, get on your knees." She tried shaking her head as I put my free hand on her shoulder. She gasped when I pulled her down by her hair with one hand and pushed her to her knees with the other. She started slapping at my leg and crotch with one hand while trying to free her hair with the other. "NO!" she screamed. I looked down at her, kneeling in front of me, struggling, fighting me. Suddenly, I released her and she instinctively backed away from me on her knees. I'm not a rapist and using force to get Suzanne to do what I wanted didn't really turn me on. Unconditional surrender and reluctance however, now, that was something completely different. The power I felt, such control, was intoxicating and I could feel my cock swelling in my pants. I took a small step and stood in front of her, looking into those beautiful light blue eyes of hers as she knelt at my feet, my throbbing bulge face-level and so close to her. The look of panic and terror on her pretty face was taking all of the fun out of it. Slowly, I leaned forward and whispered, "Yes, you will. Because you know what's going to happen if you don't. If you don't suck my cock, suck it real good like a little slut, this video goes to your husband." Looking around, gesturing at the room's surroundings, I continued, "This. All of this will be gone if your husband ever finds out about you and that handsome man in the blue suit." I could see her resolve weakening as she listened to what I was saying. I watched her eyes as they gave her away. Slowly, very slowly, I could see her reluctantly begin considering my demand. The look of panic and terror was replaced with one of hopeful disgust. I could almost read her thoughts as the expressions registered on her face. If she did this just the one time with this disgusting pig, I'd give her the video and it would be over. She could go back to her perfect little life and no one would ever know. I smirked to myself. 'Desperation sure makes people naïve', I thought but there was no way I was going to tell her that. Instead, I continued, "I know you know how to suck cock, slut. Make it good and this will be over real quick. Remember, Mr. Hawthorn will be home soon." The terror flashed again in her eyes as she looked over at the clock. She looked back at me and tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. "Please," she softly begged, "don't make me do this. I'll pay you anything. Anything you want." For a second, I felt just a bit sorry for her. But only for a second. I whispered softly yet firmly, "I don't want your money. I want my cock in your mouth. I want your pretty lips sliding up and down my shaft. I want your tongue to make me cum." I took another half-step forward and pushed my swollen crotch closer to her face, her eyes locking in on my throbbing cock for a brief second and then back on mine. "Go on," I grumbled, "take out my cock." Suzanne sniffed slightly, hesitated and I watched her right hand slowly start reaching out. Her eyes locked on my erection and I watched her slowly unbuckle my jeans. Instantly, my cock swelled. Slowly, she unbuttoned my jeans and reached for the zipper in her delicate right hand. Her manicured nails found the tab and she gently pulled it down. I could feel my pants falling away from my hips. I watched as she reached for the waistband of my underwear. With both hands, she tugged the soft material down and my cock instantly sprang out at her face. Reflexively, Suzanne turned her head but her cheek slapped against the head of my hot cock. She gasped slightly and I could see a small wet spot on her skin where my pre-cum had made contact. "That's it," I taunted, "look at it, slut." Suzanne acquiesced, turning her head back and stared at my throbbing erection. She stared for what seemed like an eternity, sniffling, stifling back her tears. Finally, I said, "Stroke my cock, slut." One tear was followed immediately by another and then another as she tentatively reached her delicate right hand out and grabbed my hot cock. Slowly, she began to do as I commanded, lightly stroking her hand up and down the length of my hard shaft. The tears continued to fall as she slowly, softly stroked my erection. "Look at it," I murmured in a low voice. Suzanne's eyes again fixated on my cock. She watched her thin hand as it slipped up and down my shaft. "Mmm, that's it slut," I whispered. "Lick the head of my cock." The tears continued to drip down her impeccably made-up cheeks. Slowly, I watched as Suzanne's full lips parted and the tiniest tip of her tongue peeked out of her mouth. With the speed of a frozen glacier, Suzanne leaned forward and that soft tongue of hers finally made contact with the inflamed head of my cock. Instantly, Suzanne's tongue darted back into her delicate little mouth as she sniffled and cried again. Angrily I commanded, "Lick my cock, slut!" Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn Ch. 02 This is just the second chapter in a longer story. For character background and storylines, please check out the earlier stories. I hope you enjoy. I jumped in that old car and drove away down that manicured drive as fast as I could. I was excited, anxious and scared to death all at once. Did that really happen? Did I really just get a blow job from Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn? Was I really crazy enough with lust and power to blackmail the richest, most powerful woman in town into sucking my dick? Nearing town, I pulled into the McDonald's and parked. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. There, there was the evidence. Pictures 001-006. Each one showing her gripping my cock. And each one showing her face covered in my cum. Her mouth open, her lips and tongue slightly redder that normal, no doubt from the blow job she had just given me. Looking at those pictures made my cock swell again. That feeling of power, that feeling of absolute power at the moment of her surrender, when she had no choice but to obey my demands, was overwhelming. Something about knocking that rich, beautiful, arrogant, stuck-up bitch off her pedestal was incredibly rewarding. Knowing how repulsed she was at what I made her do to me brought even more satisfaction. And let's not forget that blow job itself. Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn could suck dick better than anyone I had had in my young life. Even better than Anita. Ah, yes, Anita. The subject of my wet dreams and adolescent fantasies. Anita Patterson, the older woman who only would give me that one-time experience. I wanted to have so much more with her than she would allow. But now there was Cooze-anne. She was just as old as Anita, physically prettier but with a much worse personality. Who cares about her personality? I wasn't going to marry her, only fuck her. Both bodies were incredible. Anita's breasts were much bigger but Cooze-anne had better legs and a nicer ass. And Cooze-anne was going nowhere anytime soon. These pictures on my phone would insure that. No, there were many more ways I wanted to use Cooze-anne before I was finished with her. I put the phone away and drove home happily. It was quite the kick watching the news that evening, the little three minute blurb about the Mayor's fundraiser, seeing his beautiful wife in the pictures with him, her arm around him, smiling, knowing that only a few hours earlier my dick was in between those pretty, smiling lips. This was shaping up to be a great summer. So great in fact, I decided to skip school the next semester. Mom and Dad were none too thrilled, but I had much more important things on my young, lust-filled mind. Like how I was going to approach Cooze-anne and what I wanted her to do next. I kept my job at the dress shop as cover. Who knows? It was proving to be quite the hunting ground for my sexual conquests. That's what Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn was, a conquest. I wasn't interested in anything other than using her for my own pleasure. The fact that I repulsed her made it even more enticing. It also made it that much more scary. Her husband was rich and powerful. He was the Mayor. Every police man I saw was a potential threat to my well-being. All it took was one rogue cop who wanted career advancement and I could end up in the hospital. And what about her boyfriend? I didn't know the first thing about that guy and he might want to play knight in shining armor to her damsel in distress. At every turn was the potential for harm and disaster, but it only added to my excitement. I wasn't a kid anymore. That first week I just kind of waited to see what repercussions there were to my little meeting with Mrs. Hawthorn. To my surprise, it was a week like any other. 'No,' I thought, 'she didn't tell anyone.' As each day passed, I was more certain that Mrs. Hawthorn kept our little encounter to herself. I smiled as I knew she was mine. All I had to do was set it up. Now, for this to progress as I hoped it would, I knew I had to keep our relationship secret. As much as I wanted to humiliate her, bring her down to the level of all of us other 'commoners', I also knew that secrecy was the leverage. That, and those pictures. Because if either ever became public knowledge, my upper hand was lost and we would be through. So, everything from here forward would have to be on the down-low, between only her and I, her dirty little secret and my hedonistic fantasies come-to-life. I decided I needed to print off a few pictures to start things up. After all, this was going to be a battle and I better have some ammunition. I found three that I thought would get her attention. One of that man with his hands between her legs and another of them kissing in the glass elevator, his hands under her skirt and groping her delicious ass. The third was a picture of my cock dangling above her face, a thread of cum dripping down, seeking her soft skin like the balance of that load I printed them and placed them in a manila envelope with the name "Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn" written on the front. Then I printed a note telling her "Come to the dress shop tomorrow morning at 10:00. Bring your check book." I knew where they lived but I was certain I'd get caught sneaking onto the Hawthorn estate. Instead, I parked my old car on the street and waited for her to drive out for the day. It was hard to miss her. She drove a big, black Cadillac with gold trim. Pretentious, just like the owner. I followed that big Cadillac as it drove towards town. Clearly, Cooze-anne was running a few errands. 'Perfect!' I thought. I followed her from stop to stop, always parking nearby. Today was a perfect summer day and she drove with the windows down to get some fresh air. Stop after stop, I waited for my opportunity. Finally, she stopped at a local bakery in town and parked along the curb in front. Quickly, I gathered up the envelope and waited for her to go inside. Then, I walked along the sidewalk and nonchalantly tossed the envelope inside her car and onto the driver's seat. I made my way immediately back toward my car, parked just enough around the corner that I could see her. I watched as she picked up the envelope and turned her head from side to side, searching for any indication of who left the package for. I watched as she hesitantly opened the envelope. Her mouth immediately gaped open as she saw the first picture. She instantly looked around again, frantically from side to side, now searching for me. Looking back down, she saw the second and then third pictures. Immediately, she read the note and I could see her turn white with fear. That fear soon was replaced by anger, her face and neck reddening by the second. She fired up that Cadillac, slammed it in gear and pulled out into traffic, speeding off to fume over what had just happened. I laughed and drove back home. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough for me but it eventually did. I was even early for work today, bubbling with anticipation of what was about to happen. My cock was already beginning to swell. Finally, in walked Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn. 10:00, right on time. Immediately, the floor staff at the store scattered, leaving only her and I. As always, she was impeccably dressed. Today, she had on a light one-piece that clung just enough to her curves to make my cock throb in anticipation. Again, her hair and make-up were flawless and she would be an absolutely stunning woman if only she smiled occasionally. Unfortunately, her presence in the store today was not one of those occasions. Once she spied me, she marched over, her lip curled in an almost undetectable snarl. "Good Morning, Mrs. Hawthorn," I said loud and cheerily. "What can I do for you today?" "First," she replied in a hushed, angry whisper, "you can knock off the pleasantries. I'm only here to pay you for those pictures and then I hope to never see your disgusting face again." Smiling, I replied in an equally hushed, angry whisper, "You're going to do everything I tell you to do or those pictures end up with your husband, your lover's wife and the newspaper. Got it?" Ignoring me, she reached into her purse for her check book. "How much is it going to take?" she angrily asked. "Apparently, you don't get it," I replied. "You're here to buy a dress. The most expensive dress I can find." "I don't need anything from this store ever again," she retorted. Her light blue eyes were cold as she glared at me, her pouty lips pursed in defiance. Still smiling for the benefit of the employees peeking out of the backroom, I leaned forward and continued in a hushed voice, "I don't give a shit what you want or need. You're going to buy that dress and try it on. Otherwise, those pictures go out." She looked at me, pissed off and confused, through glaring eyes. "Something nice and expensive, right Cooze-anne?" I added. If she could have, she would have exploded right then and there. She started to visibly shake as I continued staring her down. Finally, she said, "Fine. What rag do you want me to buy?" "Excellent! This way Ma'am," I said loudly. I took her back towards the designer evening gowns. There was something from Paris, a Dior original, that was in her size. Price tag: $5,000. "I wouldn't give you 5 cents for this sack," she huffed under her breath. Ignoring her, I said, "You'll look absolutely gorgeous in this Ma'am." "Of course you may try it on. The dressing rooms are this way." She snatched the gown and made her way into the dressing room area. Fortunately, I had closed all of the doors except one. That room. The dressing room that Anita and I shared. Seeing as no one was coming out from the back room just yet, I waited a few seconds and followed her into the dressing room. Standing, fully clothed, she stared at me in the full length mirror. "What do you think you're doing?" she angrily asked. "Get the hell out of here before I scream and everyone comes running." I stood with my back to the door and pulled out a folded paper from my back pocket. As I unfolded it, I said, "Now, Cooze-anne, we don't want to do that. I'd have to show this picture." I held up the picture of her cum-streaked face as she jacked off my cock. "You're a pig!" she said through clenched teeth and in a harsh whisper. "What do you want?" "What I want is for you to try on that dress," I said matter-of-factly. Irate, she replied, "Now? Here? In front of you?" I simply smiled and nodded. "No! Absolutely not! Look, I'll pay you. Anything you want. But this has to stop. Right here, right now." I simply shook my head and said, "Stop? No, no Cooze-anne. We're just getting started." Her anger slowly diminished as the realization that I was not going to do as she said began to sink in. "Stop calling me that disgusting name you pig," she ordered through watering eyes. "I'll call you whatever I want," I replied. "Look, I don't have all day. Now, put on the dress or I walk out. Make up your mind," I said as I waved the picture at her. She stood there silently defiant for some time. Her eyes narrowed and her pouty lips curled in anger. I shook my shoulders and turned to leave, stopping only when I heard her say, "Fine!" Turning back, I watched as Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn spun away from me and looked into the mirror. She met my stare in the reflection and realized there was no place to hide in the small room. Her eyes moistened still as she slowly reached behind her back. Her manicured fingers found the tab of the zipper between her shoulder blades and she slowly unzipped her dress down. In one quick motion, the garment slipped off her shoulders, down her back and down to her hips. She pushed the dress over her sensuously curved hips and stepped out. She held it in front of her, trying to hide but giving me a glorious view of her thonged-covered ass. "Mmmm, very nice Cooze-anne. I always wanted to see that ass of yours." I reached out and gave it a quick slap. "Now, hang it up so it doesn't wrinkle." The tears in her eyes stopped and the anger re-emerged. Good, I liked it better that way. I liked watching her defiantly surrender. She did as she was told and stood in front of the mirror in gray heels, white lace thong and matching bra. Her body was perfect. Her breasts were definitely smaller than Anita's. No one in this area code could match breast size with Anita Patterson. But Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn's tits were still nice. Smaller but still full, they filled out her bra nicely, especially with her nipples stiffening behind the shear fabric. It was that body that was making my cock ache. Even in her mid to late thirties, Suzanne Hawthorn's ass looked like you could bounce a quarter off of it. Round and full, perfectly accentuated in that thong diving down between her cheeks. I thought I was going to cum right there. Her hips were rounded nicely and the thong rested high up, at the beginning of that curve near her waist. Her legs were long for her size, athletic looking with lean muscle. Her calf's popped out perfectly in her heels. The only thing missing was a smile. "I'll say it again Cooze-anne, very nice. I know that boyfriend of yours loves fucking you with a body like that." She glared at me in the mirror. "But," I continued, "this dress is strapless. That bra has gotta go." Her glare intensified as she reached behind her back and unhooked the delicate garment. She quickly slipped it off and stood in front of the mirror, not even trying to hide her nudity. "Take a good look pig, because that's all you're going to get," she snarled. Her natural breasts seemed just a bit large for her delicate frame. Full, delicious breasts topped with small, dark brown nipples that protruded obscenely in her excited state. I smiled and handed her the dress. Ignoring her, I said "Put this on." She snatched it from me and was more than willing to cover herself up. In seconds, she had slipped the dress on and zipped it up from behind. She looked absolutely breathtaking. The plunging neckline dove low enough to show the right amount of cleavage. The dress was tight enough through the hips and thighs to hint at the glorious body hidden underneath. "Very nice. Perfect for the Mayor's ball next month," I said. My cock ached in my pants, throbbing, as I added, "after I fuck you in it." "Like Hell you will!" she growled. "Your fun is over, you disgusting pig. Give me those pictures before this gets ugly." Her threats had no affect on me. I wanted to make this bitch give in to me. My cock ached for relief. I lowered my eyes, and growled back, "I'm tired of arguing with you, slut. Take out my cock and suck it or I'll turn over these pictures." I held the picture in front of her. Mrs. Hawthorn stared at it. Even through the cum streaks on her face, it was undeniably her in that picture. Her anger was slowly subsiding and I could see the tears welling in her eyes again. Showing no mercy, I forged ahead when I saw her spirit beginning to crumble. In a low snarl, I growled, "Get on your knees, take out my cock and suck it like a good little slut. I'm not gonna say it again." She looked down at the bulge in my pants. Her hands started to shake and she began to cry. I watched as she hung her head low and knelt in front of me in that designer dress. Her tears began to run down her cheek as she reached for my buckle. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asked through her tears, all the while undoing my pants. I said nothing as she pulled my pants and underwear down. My erection once again sprang at her like a perverted Jack-In-The-Box. It bobbed obscenely in her face and she slowly looked up at it. She stared at it for a few seconds and tentatively reached out and gripped my hard shaft. Slowly, she stuck her tongue out and flicked across my hot, swollen head. "Mmmm, that's it. My cock missed you. Show me how much you missed sucking me slut." She sniffled and continued crying as she slowly licked my cock head. Slowly, she began to lick up and down my length, her saliva making my erection slick. Up and down, Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn licked my cock like an ice cream cone. Her tears mixed with her spit, creating a nice lubrication between her hand and my cock. Glaring down at her, I said, "Enough of that. Stand up slut." Confused, she remained kneeling in front of me with my cock still in her hand. "I said, stand up slut." I gripped her arm by the elbow and began raising her to her feet. She dropped my dick and stared at me, her lipstick smeared slightly from licking my cock. "Turn around," I ordered as I put my hands on her shoulders and spun her. She stood in front of me, facing the mirror in that elegant dinner gown. She looked absolutely stunning. "Put your hands on the mirror and bend forward," I commanded. Suddenly, she understood what I had planned. Suzanne whimpered through her tears, "No. Please. Don't make me. Don't do this to me." I took the picture, licked the back of it and slapped it against the mirror in front of her. It stuck to the glass, the visual reminder of our last encounter. She stared at it for some time and then slowly moved her hands as I had ordered. She placed one on each side of the picture and leaned forward, as if she wanted a better view. I looked down from behind. My God, her ass was perfect in that dress. I looked back up at her reflection in the mirror and our eyes met. "Hike your skirt over your hips, slut." Her tears continued as she reached back and grabbed the hem of the dress in both hands. Slowly, she pulled up, wiggling her hips just a bit to allow the material to move upward. She watched me in the mirror as I stared at her ass. Round and full, amazingly taught for a woman her age. I reached out with my hand, cupping and squeezing the warm, round flesh of her delicious ass. No longer in tears, she said in a low whisper, "You're nothing but a pig." I pulled my hand back and slapped her ass hard, the sound ringing in the small room. Mrs. Hawthorn inhaled sharply, her eyes wide in the mirror, and let out a small yelp. I reached out and yanked down her thong, pulling it down her thighs. At knee level, it dropped to the floor. "Step out of it, slut." She did as I ordered and I kicked her underwear to the corner. Placing one hand on the small of her back just above that round ass, I placed the other on her upper back and nudged her forward and down. She took my cue and spread her legs slightly apart. She placed both hands again on the mirror and bent forward, the dress bunched up around her waist, supported there by her round, sensuous hips. Her ass looked like heaven. So warm and inviting, I knew I didn't have much longer before I'd explode. I stepped up behind her, my hands on her ass cheeks, and pointed my cock at her pussy. I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Now, move back and take my cock slut." Her head snapped back toward me as she spat, "You're an animal. Pathetic." I slapped her ass again, harder this time. Her eyes widened and she yelped again at her reflection. "I said, fuck yourself on my cock, Cooze-anne." She looked at the picture in front of her stuck against the mirror, and then back at my reflection. Her upper lip curled in contempt. Slowly, I felt her pushing back against me, her warm pussy slowly gliding across my cockhead. Slowly, she pushed herself back against my cock and I felt her opening. Inch by taunting inch, she pushed herself onto my cock. The slick head probing as she moved back. Slick with her saliva, tears and a bit of moisture from her pussy. I whispered in her ear again, "You love this, don't you slut?" Her head snapped back towards me again as she continued taking my cock inside her. "You disgust me, you dirty, filthy pig," she snarled. Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn Ch. 02 I felt her warm ass against my belly. Her pussy felt like heaven on my cock, tighter than I could have hoped, warm, no hot, with enough moisture that belied her purported disgust. I slapped her ass again and whispered, "Fuck yourself on my cock." She growled and then slowly began to move forward. Slowly at first, Suzanne Hawthorn began moving back and forth, fucking herself, using my cock. "Mmmmm, Cooze-anne, that's it. Fuck yourself on me slut," I whispered. She looked at my reflection and said, "Dirty, disgusting little pig." Meanwhile, her tempo began to increase. Her pussy felt soft and warm and wet as she slid up and down along my cock. I knew I was close, so I whispered one last time, "Use your cunt, slut. Take all of my cum." Her head snapped to the side again as she growled, "Filthy pig!" She looked back into the mirror and found my eyes. Glaring at me, she began to wildly hump back and forth on my cock. Her pussy squeezing, flexing along the length, milking my cock as she fucked me. Back and forth, she moved her hips up and down, sliding my hard throbbing cock in and out of her wet pussy. Her breathing changed, coming quicker with short bursts through her parted, pouty lips. She looked up at me in the mirror, her face flushing and grunted, "I hate you!" I stared at her and then back down at her round ass as it pumped back and forth on my hard, wet cock. "Like I care," I breathlessly replied. My balls tightened and that rush toward orgasm flowed. I grabbed her hips and fucked her hard just as my balls exploded. She threw her head back as I pumped stream after stream of warm cum inside of her wet pussy. We both gasped for breath as our eyes met again in the mirror. Her breathing was labored, her cheeks flushed, and she gasped at me through parted red lips. Her hands spread and pressed flat against the mirror, I could feel the muscles in her body beginning to relax. Once she regained her composure, she pulled up off of my messy cock. "Clean it!" I ordered. She turned, glared at me again and then in one final act of surrender, slowly dropped to her knees as before. She gripped my cock firmly in her hand and looked up at me. "You're nothing but a filthy, disgusting pig," she whispered. Her eyes went back to my dick and I watched as she opened her mouth and began sucking and licking my sticky cock clean of my cum and her juices. Her mouth was like heaven and slowly she worked up and down my whole length. I put my hand in her hair and pulled her off of me. She looked up at me, confused, while I pulled my pants up and quickly buckled them. Of course, I didn't want this to end but we had been in that dressing room, together, for a long time. Plus, we had made enough noise to raise some suspicions and I wanted many more times like this. I quickly snatched up her thong and bra. "You won't need these anymore today," I said. "Walk out of here like the slut you are Cooze-anne." Angrily, she snapped, "Give those back you little pig! I can't walk around like that." Slipping her lingerie in my pocket I opened the door and started to leave. "Madeline will have to ring you out for a sale this large," I said loudly. "She'll meet you at the register." Please let me know what you think of this work. Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn Ch. 03 This is just a chapter in a longer story. For character background and storylines, please check out the earlier stories. I hope you enjoy. I walked around the next few days like I owned the world. The richest, most powerful woman in town was slowly becoming my personal slut. What can I say? I had it all. At 20 years old, I didn't have the worldliness I thought I did. I should have seen it coming. Sure, Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn was gorgeous and married all of her wealth and power, but she was no slouch. I had underestimated her. Big time! She had brains and guile to match her beauty even if she failed miserably in the personality department. I should have known better. You don't get to be Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn by rolling over and just giving in to pressure. The rich and powerful fight back. I should have seen it coming. I was walking to my car soon one night after work. The mall parking garage was fairly deserted but being a 20 year old male of average size and abilities, I wasn't really concerned or scared anything might happen. I should have been. From out of nowhere, something hit me from behind in the back of my head. Stunned and dazed, I fell to the ground. That's when I realized someone was stomping me, kicking me in the stomach, ribs, head and face. I felt the blood trickling from my nose and mouth, from a cut on my head and into my eyes. Through my haze, I saw that it was her boyfriend, the same guy from that afternoon in the Sheraton. I tried to get up but he kept hitting and kicking me until I had no strength left. He grabbed a handful of bloody hair and pulled my head up off the pavement. Leaning down, he growled, "Leave Suzanne Hawthorn alone or next time you're dead." He hit me one last time for good measure and the next thing I knew I was in the hospital. The doctors told me there was no serious damage, just some cuts and bruises and one big ass ugly scar that would only be noticed if I lost my hair when I got older. I ached and hurt all over but I was going to be fine. The police questioned me, wanting to know what happened. I played dumb, telling them I never knew what hit me. I had no enemies that I knew of, he didn't take my wallet or car so it looked like just another act of random violence in our fair city. What was I going to tell them anyway? For all I knew, the police were there to see if this was the end of it and not the beginning. She had threatened me before, saying she and her husband controlled the police. They wanted me to come down to the station and look at some mugshots but I never did. I was released from the hospital later that day and of course my parents freaked. They wanted me to go back to school but I had other plans. The attack didn't scare me off as Cooze-anne and her lover hoped. Instead, it pissed me off. Now, I'm not the baddest guy in town. I don't get into fights and I'm certainly not looking for one. But any way you slice it, this was a pussy move. Attacking me from behind, kicking me, beating me when I'm down and defenseless. This guy was a tool and I couldn't wait to exact my revenge. On both of them. My bruises and scrapes slowly began to heal and in a couple of weeks I was almost back to normal. I had to be. The Mayor's ball was next week and it was time for some payback. Of course, being the lowly commoners that my family and I were, we never received our invitations. Instead, I knew the caterer and I talked my way into working the event that night as extra help. The ball was being held at the old Auditorium theatre. It had been renovated recently, the seats removed and stage refurbished. Now, it was used for gala events such as this or wedding receptions or elegant parties thrown by the upper crust of society. I knew that Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn would be there, on the arm of her wealthy husband, the Mayor. She'd be wearing that expensive Dior dress, the same one I fucked her in the day she came to the store. Her hair and make-up would be impeccable. She'd be smiling, laughing, having herself just the grandest time. Smiling through those same once cum-streaked lips that had been wrapped around my cock. Unlike last time, I decided not to give her any forewarning. One sneak attack deserves another I figured. Now, I wasn't sure if her boyfriend would be there, so I only planned for Cooze-anne. There was time for him later. The night finally arrived and I showed up for work that evening in the white jacket, black pants and bowtie busboy costume the caterer provided. 'Perfect!' I thought. The crowd was gathering and there appeared to be almost 500 guests. Of course, Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn was the hostess. She smiled her great, big, fake smile, as if the rich bitch was happy to see these peasants who would soon be duped out of their money for her husband's re-election campaign. I scanned the crowd and sure enough, her boyfriend was nowhere to be found. He must not warrant an invite as well. The night went on without a hitch. Cocktails, followed by a few speeches, then appetizers and the main course. Desert and coffee for any who so desired followed by dancing what remained of the night away. I moved effortlessly through the crowd, just another servant there to be used by the wealthy. I waited, doing the job as I had been instructed, waiting for the right opportunity. There she was, maybe 20 feet away, on the arm of that old codger. Wasn't it past his bedtime anyway? She stood there, smiling, laughing, making small talk. From this distance, she was gorgeous. She looked absolutely perfect in that dress, with just the slightest hint of the body that lay beneath. Her smile and laughter resonated throughout the large room. Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn was definitely in her element. She was queen of all she surveyed. Good thing she hadn't spotted me yet because she certainly had no power over me. Now was the time to put my plan in action. I took out an empty manila envelope, just like the one I had slipped into Cooze-anne's Cadillac that day in front of the bakery, addressed to 'Mayor Hawthorn.' I walked toward the happy couple. She spotted me first, in mid-laugh. Her eyes moved quickly to the envelope I carried towards them and all of the color seemed to flush from her perfectly made-up face. Her beautiful blue eyes suddenly got large as she stood there, silently holding her breath. "Excuse me, Mr. Mayor, but the gentleman over there asked me to give these to you." I turned and pointed over my shoulder towards the far exit as I handed him the empty envelope. Cooze-anne stood there, frozen with fear, as she breathlessly watched her husband open the envelope, sure that those pictures of us would come spilling out. He looked inside and exclaimed, "Why, there's nothing here. It's empty." Looking at me, he asked, "Who gave this to you, boy?" I motioned again at the far exit and said, "I'm sorry sir. He did not give me his name. It was that man over there." He squinted, trying to recognize the man I motioned towards. He turned to his wife and said, "This must be some mistake. I'll be right back, dear." He left her standing there with me as the rest of the guests scattered towards other, more interesting conversations. She gritted her teeth in another fake smile and angrily said in a hushed voice, "What are you doing here? What do you think you're doing?" I smiled back at her and replied, "Showing you just how easily I could fuck up your world. At least I've got the balls to do it to your face, not like the way you and your boyfriend came after me." "I had nothing to do with that," she countered. "That was his idea. Now, go. Get out of here before my husband comes back." I looked back at the Mayor and said, "I don't care who's idea it was. Besides, maybe it's time your husband and I chatted. Maybe looked at some old pictures and reminisced." I pulled another folded picture from my back pocket. Panic flashed across her pretty face. "No. Please. Don't do it," she pleaded. God, I loved it when she begged like this. My cock started swelling as I saw the fear on her face. "You know what you've got to do then, don't you Cooze-anne?" I asked. Her eyes widened as she gasped through those perfectly pouty lips of hers. "Here?" she asked incredulously as she looked from side to side. "You can't be serious?" Her eyes darted around as she looked at all of the crowd that still remained. I smiled wryly, "Oh, I'm serious. Once the band starts." She shook her head, a look of panic again in those blue eyes. "I can't," she stuttered. "No. Not here. I have to dance the first dance with my husband." Angrily I snarled, "Up there, in the balcony, once the band starts. Or he sees the picture." I turned and walked away, towards the converted stage and out the back. Mrs. Hawthorn stood there, dumbfounded, not sure what to do next. In seconds, she was walking quickly behind me. She caught me just as I exited the stage towards the back. She reached out and grabbed my arm. I spun around and glared at her. She looked like a scared, caged cat. Her chest rose and fell with her deep breaths. Her eyes were big and blue and beautiful. Her pretty face was flushed, drained of all color. Her hand was cold on my arm. "Wait," she said softly. She looked around and saw a half wall towards the back of the stage. Looking around again to see if anyone had seen us, she said, "There," and led me behind the wall. It rose to just below my chest and I could look out through the darkened stage at the partygoers. Without hesitation, Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn dropped to her knees in front of me. She quickly reached up and undid my belt, pants and zipper. In one motion, she had tugged my pants and underwear down to mid-thigh and reached her delicate, cold hand inside and pulled out my swelling cock. "You're a pig," she said as she stroked me, her blue eyes all the while locked on mine. She quickly opened her mouth and swallowed the head of my stiffening cock. Her tongue licked under the tip while her lips stiffened around my shaft. "You're getting better at this Cooze-anne," I replied. "I don't even have to tell you what to do anymore." She lowered her head, taking more and more of my cock into her mouth. She began sliding up and down my shaft, moistening me with her saliva. She worked fast on my cock, hoping to make me cum quickly before we could be discovered. I had other ideas though but before I could pull her off of me, I heard the footsteps crossing the stage towards the back. Back where we were. It was her husband, the Mayor, Mr. Hawthorn. He saw me standing in the back, blocked from the waist down by the half-wall. "Excuse me, young man?" he said. Suzanne froze. She was on her knees, hidden by the wall, her right hand wrapped around my cock, the silky head buried in her mouth, as she looked up at me with fear in her beautiful blue eyes and my cock stretching her lips. It was all I could do from cumming right there. Instead, I replied as calmly as possible, "Yes sir? What can I do for you?" He walked closer towards me, stopping about three feet shy of the wall. "I am correct in assuming you were the young man who gave me that envelope?" "Yes sir," I affirmed. In the meantime, I moved my left hand discreetly down, onto Mrs. Hawthorn's perfectly coiffed hair. Slowly, I pushed her head towards me, down the shaft of my cock. She knew what I wanted. And she obliged. Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn began slowly and quietly sucking my cock while I nonchalantly spoke with her husband across that partial wall. "And you have no idea the name of the gentleman who handed you that envelope?" "No sir, I'm sorry, " I replied as she licked the underside of my cock. Her mouth wrapped around my shaft and she was slowly working up and down, milking me with those pouty lips. Mr. Hawthorn shook his head. "Strange," he said, "it was empty." He turned as if to walk away but suddenly stopped and turned back towards us. "I say, you were talking with my wife, weren't you?" She froze for a second, but continued as I pulled her head back up along my cock. Her tongue swirled and licked across the tip as she stiffened her grasp around my shaft. "Yes sir," I replied, "but only for a minute." "She didn't by chance tell you where she was going, did she? I can't seem to find her anywhere." I glanced down into her scarred eyes for only a tenth of a second. I quickly looked back at the Mayor and replied, "No sir. I haven't seen her. But if I come across her, I'll tell her you're looking for her." Suzanne picked up her pace again as my hand guided her by the hair. He shook his head as he walked away, back towards the party. "Please do young man," he said. "Our dance is coming up." And with that, he left us alone back behind the stage. Suzanne immediately released my cock from her mouth but not her hand. "You're and asshole," she angrily whispered through clenched teeth. "And you're my dirty little slut," I replied, "but we're not done yet. Remember last time you wore this dress?" She looked up at me with fear in her eyes again. She shook her head and replied, "No. Not that. Not here." "Do it slut! Stand up, bend forward, hike up your skirt and grab that wall," I ordered. She slowly stood up, her lips curled indignantly. Slowly, she spun around and faced the wall in front of me. I watched as her hands slowly reached for the hem of her dress. "I hate you. I hate you for what you're doing to me," she spat. I ignored her, only watching as her dress rose higher, up above those sensuous hips and incredible ass. She wore yet another thong, her delicious melon ass framed perfectly by that thin strip of material that dove straight down between those gorgeous cheeks. I put one hand on her hip and one on the other. Grasping the waistband of her thong, I quickly pulled them down her legs and dropped them to her ankles. "Step out of them," I ordered and she obliged. I squatted down, picked up her lingerie, and tucked it into my pants pocket. I slapped her ass hard, the sound quickly echoing in the stillness of the back stage but dissipating over the hum of the crowd. "Grab the wall with both hands slut," I grumbled. I moved behind her again as she did as I told her. I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled back, the crowd now in her view as we remained hidden by the darkness and the half-wall. "I'm gonna fuck you in front of all of these fine people Cooze-anne." She didn't reply, only shaking her head in defiance. Meanwhile, her hands gripped the top of the wall, her feet spread slightly, with that dress bunched up around your waist. I put both hands on her ass and pulled her cheeks apart, holding her there, up against that wall. "But I'm not gonna fuck your pussy this time," I whispered in her ear. With that, I pushed my hips forward, my cock head brushing up against her warm, tight ass hole. She immediately knew what I had in mind. "The hell you are!" she angrily replied. But it was no use. I held her in that vulnerable position. She could not scream or struggle for fear of drawing attention to us behind that stage. She shook her head and hips violently, trying to get away but I continued pushing forward. "No! Stop it! You're an animal!" she growled. "I hate you!" I kept pushing my hips forward while I pulled her backward by those perfectly round ass cheeks. My cock, slick from her saliva and my pre-cum, pushed hard against her tiny opening. "Please," she begged in a hushed whisper. I could feel my cock against her ass hole. She was warm and tight, but I was stronger. Slowly, I was beginning to overpower her and her strength began to weaken. I could feel the tip of my cock stretching her, forcing her tight ring open. I groaned as she weakened, with more and more of my thick head pushing into her ass hole. One final push and the head slipped in. Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn winced and yelped quietly, wiggling her hips but my cock was firmly entrenched in her ass. I held her there with one hand and reached my other into my pocket, finding the trial size packet of lube I had gotten in anticipation of this evening. I cracked it open and poured it between her ass cheeks and down onto the length of my cock. "I guess I should have used this first, but it was more fun to take your ass hole like that," I said derisively. Through clenched teeth, she said "I hate you! You're a pig. A common pig. I fucking hate you. You're nothing but an animal." I replied, "An animal who's fucking your tight ass hole for the first time." I threw the lube container on the ground and grabbed her hips. They fit perfectly in the curve of my hands. I pulled her back as I began sliding deeper and deeper into her ass hole. She groaned and winced again. I watched as my shaft buried deep inside her ass. She was tight and warm and felt incredible on my cock. I could feel her ass hole tightening around my shaft as she clenched her butt muscles. Slowly, I began sliding in and out, the lubrication removing all possibility of resistance. In and out my cock slid, each thrust going a little deeper inside her. I slapped her ass again and said, "Ride my cock, slut. Take my cock in your ass." And she did. She looked out on the crowd as she threw herself backward, rocking her hips with each downstroke. Her ass was heaven on my cock as she rode me. Her breathing became short and quick as she rode faster and harder. Faster and faster, harder and deeper, Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn bounced her perfect ass on my cock. I looked out on the crowd, with all of those high society people, as I fucked their queen in the ass. It was all I could take. My balls tightened and my cock stiffened. The wave of ecstasy washed over me. I held onto her curvaceous hips and I fucked her as if my life depended on it. Wave after wave, I pumped streams of warm cum into her tight ass hole. We both gasped as her body shook on my cock. I could be wrong, but I think she orgasmed as well. I pulled back and my slick cock popped out of her tight ass. She turned back and looked at me over her shoulder. Her eyes were glazed, lips parted and she was breathing heavily. "Clean me up, Cooze-anne," I ordered. She turned around and looked at me, stunned, unsure as she realized where my cock had been. In one final act of silent surrender, she dropped to her knees, grabbed my still hard, slick, cum-covered cock and began licking and sucking it clean. "Mmmm, that's it. That's a good little slut," I murmmered as her tongue worked over my dick. Finally clean, I pulled myself away from her and dressed. She looked up at me in confusion and dare I say, slight disappointment. Regaining her senses, she reiterated, "You're a filthy pig. I hate you." She looked around and said, "Where are my panties?" I walked away, out towards the stage. Reaching into my pocket I held them up for her to see. Angrily, she shot back, "Give me those! I need them. I can't go out there like this." She stood up and pulled her skirt down over her used hips. "I'm a mess down there," she pleaded. "I know," I replied. "I messed you." Walking away I added, "Think of me when my cum is running out of your lubed ass while you dance with your husband." * Please let me know what you think of this work. Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn Her hand continued stroking my shaft as she submissively obliged. Suzanne licked from the underside of my cock head, all the way up past the tip. "Mmmm, that's it slut," I mumbled. Still sniffling, Suzanne closed her tear stained eyes and licked again, this time a long swath from the underside of my shaft, up around and over the head. Slowly, her crying began to stop as she continued licking and stroking my cock. Standing there, watching as Mrs. Suzanne Hawthorn, rich bitch and royal pain-in-the-ass, licked and stroked my cock was incredible. From somewhere deep inside of me, words started coming out of my mouth. Words I had not consciously formed but spat out at her like venom. "You like that, don't you slut?" "Mmmm, I knew you'd be a good cock-sucker slut." "That's it Suze, lick it like a whore." "Suze, rhymes with cooze. Cooze-anne." "My private slut." With each grunted phrase, Suzanne's tempo increased. Her tears and sniffling had stopped and were now replaced by a total immersion and obsession with my erection. Her tongue swirled under, around and across the head of my cock. She licked up and down the shaft, her spittle mixing with my pre-cum, lubricating her delicate hand as she stroked me. In one motion, she lifted my cock to my belly and I watched in astonishment as, without any provocation, she leaned forward and began gently licking my balls. First one, then the other. Suzanne's delicate tongue licked at my tortured nuts. "Cooze-anne, my private slut," I repeated. Instantly, she squeezed her hand firmly around the base of my shaft and inhaled sharply. Leaving my balls wet and desperate, I looked down to see her staring up at me. The late afternoon sun shone through the window and reflected off of her pearl necklace. I could not believe that beautiful, rich, arrogant Suzanne Hawthorn was on her knees sucking my hard cock. "You disgust me," she grumbled in her best upper-crust voice as she tightened her grip on my throbbing cock. A string of pre-cum dripped off the tip on a collision course with her pouty bottom lip. "Yet you're sucking my cock," I replied as coldly as I could. Her eyes never left mine, her hand coursing up and down along my thick shaft as the pre-cum drew closer and closer. "You're repulsive. Nothing but filth," she offered. "Shut up and suck my big cock, 'Cooze-anne'," I ordered. She flinched at my words and looked again at my hard cock as her hand stroked back and forth. "You don't have much time slut." In a low, almost animalistic voice she asked, "Is this what you want?" With that, she opened her mouth and slammed her head down on my cock. Her lips wrapped around my thick shaft and I could feel her tongue undulating underneath my cock as she held me firmly in her mouth. Slowly, she began lifting her head, mouth, lips and tongue up and down the length of my cock as she closely followed suit with the tight grip of her now deceptively dainty hand. Faster and faster, she increased the tempo of her manipulations. At twenty years old, I had barely any experience, but it didn't take much to realize that Suzanne Hawthorn knew her way around a hard dick. She licked and sucked my cock like a master. Her saliva mixed with my pre-cum, oozing out the sides of her mouth as my cock plungered in and out, running down onto her chest and the soft, gray Cashmere sweater. "Ugh," I moaned. "That's it 'Cooze-anne'. Show me how a rich bitch sucks cock." She said nothing as her hand and mouth continued performing their magic on me. She stroked and sucked me faster and harder and I knew I was approaching that point of inevitability. Slowly, I could feel the tension building in my balls, my cock stiffening and the total feeling of ecstasy washing over me. Her lips and tongue were heaven on my cock and the sounds of her slurping with each backstroke pushed me over the edge. In one motion, I grabbed her hair and pulled her off of my cock as my balls explode in orgasm. "Aaaahh, she gasped loudly. The first rope of warm cum landed in her open mouth and draped over her tongue, bottom lip and dripped down her chin. She gasped loudly again and her face registered both surprise and disgust yet Suzanne continued stroking my cock. Rope after rope of cum landed on her cheek, hair, sweater and face. "Ugh!" I grunted again as she showered in my sperm. I watched as her eyes glared at me. In a flash, I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out my trusty camera phone. Before she knew it, I had snapped off a half-dozen pictures or so, all capturing her right hand firmly wrapped around my throbbing cock as it dangled above the backdrop of her cum stained sweater, hair, mouth and face. She squirmed on her knees, my cock still in hand, as she sought escape from my camera. Quickly she scrambled, released my cock from her grip and tried to wipe the evidence from her face as I let her go and pulled myself together. "Damn you!" she muttered. "Give me that fucking camera you little piece of shit!" I smirked as I tucked my still erect cock inside and buckled my pants while she continued wiping in vain with her bare hand, wrist and arm. "Such dirty words from such a sophisticated mouth," I said. "Now, you are my whore. 'Cooze-anne', my personal slut." She sprang to her feet, her gray sweater slowly absorbing the streaks of sperm on her neck and chest, and stood in front of me shaking in anger. "Fuck you!" she shouted. I laughed as I walked toward the front door. "Not yet, but you will soon," I said over my shoulder. "You should be getting ready. Your husband should be home any minute now." Please let me know what you think of this work.