Trailer Call

Monica worked at the 7-11 and I bought beer there a few times a week and we got to know each other. She was a slender thing with bad teeth and a great ass and she had a confident way about her that caught my attention; it wasn't long before we were spending a lot of time together.

A humble kind of girl, a working girl with a high school education, Monica was not fashionable or glamorous but she was pretty and healthy and funny and smart and when it came to sexual things she was a natural. I was overwhelmed the first time we ended up in bed together, she had a relaxed style of giving and taking and we flowed from one form of pleasure to another as if we'd been doing it for years. I don't think anything was off-limits with her, at least nothing I discovered, and whatever she did she did with all her heart.

Monica's friend Abby was a sort of opposite of her. Abby was short and stacked, with an impossibly narrow waist joining a big round butt to a set of knockers that jutted out under her chin. Abby was also loud, rude, forward, and often obnoxious. The two seemed to be the kind of best friends where one lived through the other, two young women with menial jobs and no future, getting what they could out of life. I tolerated Abby and I guess she tolerated me, if you spent time with Monica you spent time with Abby, that was the deal.

Monica and I got together a couple of times a week and it was immensely satisfying. We had no agreement that we would be exclusive and sometimes she chatted casually with me about her other boyfriends, and that was fine. Our hours together were like a wild dream. My life was nothing to brag about either, I was working a shitty job and our visits were a wonderful escape from the dreariness of our daily routines.

One night I was watching TV and the phone rang.

"Hey, is this Doc?" a female voice asked.

"It depends," I said, "Who is asking?"

"This is Abby, Monica's friend."

"Oh, hi," I said. "Did Monica give you my number?"

"Uh," she paused, "I saw it on her phone once."

"Oh, I see, and you memorized it."

"Yes." It sounded to me like Abby had perhaps been drinking. I had never heard of either of them having so much as a beer, but I had a very good first- second- and third-person familiarity with people in all stages of inebriation.

"Well, how you doing, Abby? What's up?"

There was a long pause, an inhalation, and she said, "Well Monica has been telling me about you a little bit."

"Good things, I hope."

She laughed. "Oh yes, very good things. She was saying you guys went an hour and a half the other night."

I did not have a reply to that. My sexual activities are not the kind of thing I would talk to someone about, especially a person's best friend.

"Is that true?" she asked me.

"I don't know, Abby, I didn't look at the clock."

Another pause. "I'm so lonely. I need some of that, too."

"You need some of what?"

"I need some loving like that," she said. "An hour and a half, I could use that."

"I see," I said. "Let me ask, are you drinking tonight?"

"A little," she said. "A couple glasses of wine."

"So maybe this isn't a good idea. I won't tell Monica you called, okay?"

Abby said, "No, not okay. I need you to come over here now."

"But it's nine o'clock at night."

"So? Come on over, we'll have a great time, I promise."

"I can't do that," I replied.

Of course you know how this turned out. I couldn't get Abby's outrageous body out of my mind, and she was quite persuasive, and fifteen minutes later I was driving up and down the gravel roads of a sprawling trailer park on the west end of town. I had her space number and eventually found her place, a small, dented turquoise trailer with a little tin awning over the door.

Abby heard my motor cut off and came to the door in a kind of short gauze nightgown. Her hair was ruffled and she had a clear plastic glass of wine in her hand. "Come in, come in," she said, "Don't make me wait."

A cloud of dust had followed me to her trailer. She pushed the screen door open and I came in. "Oh boy," she said. "I'm glad you could make it."

"This is a little weird," I said.

"It will be fun," Abby said. "You want a glass of wine?" Of course I did. A mug of Yukon Jack would have been better, but wine worked.

Her trailer was tiny. There were dirty clothes thrown over both the chairs, dishes in the sink, holes in the carpet. We took a sip and she set down her glass and came over to kiss me. I reached around her and pulled her close as our tongues engaged. My hand wandered to her ass, confirming my almost-certain suspicion that she was not wearing panties. Then it came up to her breast. I lifted it slightly and gave a squeeze -- she really was gifted there. These were heavy, hard tits and gravity did its best but they insisted on pointing straight ahead. I gave her nipple a gentle pinch through the gauze and she squealed. "This is going to be good," she said, breaking our kiss.

"Look," she said, pointing, "That's where my bed is." It was kind of loft above and behind the kitchen table, a slot really, with barely room for a mattress and couple of pillows. There was just room to sit up there.

She pulled my face to hers again and this time it was her hands that were wandering. She rubbed my chest but it was obvious she wanted to check out the hardware down below, and in a few seconds she was cupping my cock through my jeans, stroking it. She smiled up at me. "Nice." She did not seem anywhere close to drunk, she obviously had a little buzz but she was fully present and fine, if slightly friendlier and less inhibited than usual.

Some more making out, then she said, "We gotta get you out of these clothes."

This was going fast and of course I knew the whole situation was stupid, but what would you have done? It was kind of exhilarating. She pulled my t-shirt over my head in one gesture. Her face came up to my chest and she began kissing my abdomen. She took my nipple between her lips, sending a jolt through my body, as her arm wrapped around my back, pulling me in. "You like that, don't you," she said, her voice soft as candlelight. She used her lips and her tongue on my nipples, alternating between them, while I stood there with a glass of white wine in my hand, my eyes closed, enjoying it.

"Let's see what we got here," she said as her hand grasped my belt buckle. She had my jeans unsnapped and pushed down to my knees, my tighty-whities bulging, as she seemed to be teasing herself by going one layer at a time. She looked at my face and stroked me through my underwear, then dropped to her knees. "Let me have a look." And then my underwear were also around my knees.

She took my cock in her hand and stroked it lightly. "So this is it," she said, "This is what Monica was telling me about."

"It's pretty average," I said, somewhat embarrassed. "It's just a dick." It honestly is nothing to talk about, a normal, reasonably straight six-inch circumcised penis.

"We'll see," Abby said. She was pumping me now, looking at my cock, concentrating on it. She leaned forward and put her lips around the head of it and did something with her tongue and I gasped. "Come on," she said suddenly, "Let's get up in the loft."

I kicked off my shoes and pants and watched her climb up the ladder and crawl into the bed. Her nightgown hung in such a way that I had a lovely view of that amazing naked ass as well as those grapefruit tits, from below, as she crawled into the cubby. Her pussy glistened under a healthy patch of pubic hair as she pulled herself up into her sleeping-nook, and she waved me up. "Oh hey, hand me my wine, will you?" I passed it to her and handed her my glass as well and she set them somewhere that I could not see from the kitchen. "Come on up," she said, "It's nice and cozy."

I climbed the ladder and pulled myself up onto her mattress, naked. She was propped up on a pillow, sipping her wine, watching me. A single light bulb was glowing in the kitchen, reflecting off her eyes, softening the outlines of everything. Abby had eyes that were as dark as coal, with a slight sparkle sometimes that I had noticed but not consciously. I was seeing her girlfriend,remember? Trouble seems to find me without me looking for it.

She patted the other pillow and said, "Let's have a little sippy first, okay?" And so we lay there side by side in her little plywood sleeping-box, drinking some wine that was not too bad. She rested her hand on my thigh and soon was stroking my cock gently. Actually she could have finished me off that way and it would have been wonderful. Her fingers were soft and sensitive as she tugged at my shaft. I was thinking, you know what, I am a lucky motherfucker. I don't care about some asshole with a billion dollars, he does not know what it is like to sit sipping wine in a dim trailer with a beautiful lady stroking your cock just because she wants it so bad.

There was a kind of ledge beside the bed, a two-by-four bracing the wall, where she set down her glass. She turned to me and swung her leg over my body with a knowing smile. "Here, give me that," she said, and she set my glass next to hers, then lowered her body on me.

It was no-hands. My cock was so hard I was pointing right into her, and her pussy was sopping wet, and she centered herself over my body then let her knees and hips slowly bring her down until I felt the head of my penis against her moistness. She shuffled a little to line us up and then very slowly, almost imperceptibly, she took a fraction of an inch of me inside her, then another fraction, sinking slowly onto me. She was wearing her nightgown, and her eyes were closed as she savored the moment.

It was a long minute before she had the whole thing inside her. She sat firmly on me and began moving her hips, again nearly imperceptibly, grinding her pussy against my full length. I reached up and pulled her nightgown over her head, as she lifted her arms up to help me with it. My god those were some great tits. It was a beautiful sight, the most voluptuous woman imaginable moving her pussy slowly against my cock, her breasts firm and hard as her body swayed slightly, her eyes closed, her lips parted.

She looked down at me and smiled. "See," she said, "That's what I was talking about." She rocked her hips like she was on a bull-riding machine on the slowest setting, letting her body sway for balance, her head nodding in a kind of dance.

She leaned forward a little, pressing her upper body forward with her hands on either side of me. Her big breasts swung against my chest, our nipples sometimes making contact in an electrifying way. She began to use her hips a little more, pulling her slick vagina up toward the tip of my cock, pausing, and pushing back down until I was again engulfed. Moving slowly, like a slow-dance to the jukebox at the end of the night in a dark bar with nobody else around. It was intimate, sensual, and extremely pleasurable.

I pushed with my hips to give her a little jolt but she shushed me and said, "No, not yet. Don't move." So I lay my head back on the pillow and watched her beautiful face as she concentrated on the sensations. She fucked me slowly, pressing down hard on the downstroke, rubbing her clitoris against my pubic bone, and then over a few minutes' time she began to pick up the tempo. I moved to meet her thrusts but she again shushed me with a smile. "No, let me do this."

These were minutes of pure sensuality, and her breathing began to come in gulps. She reached her hand down between us and I could feel her fingers moving on herself. Her forehead was coated with sweat, reflecting that single kitchen bulb. Her breasts were swaying forward and back with a hypnotic rhythm when a first orgasm hit her. She gasped and slammed her hips down against me, taking me as deep as I would go. She pulled her hand away and ground her clit against me while letting out a kind of moan that I have never heard before -- it makes me hard now to recall it. This moan came from her belly, and she threw her head back and began slamming her hips repeatedly against me, banging me hard. Her pussy was tight and very wet and the sensation for me was, let's say, challenging, but I clenched down and gave it back to her -- no shushing this time, I pounded her to meet her thrusts until she finally collapsed forward on me, her head against my shoulder.

"See?" she said with a giggle. "This was a good idea I had."

After a minute she began sliding her pussy against me again, slowly, but then on an upstroke she pulled away. She gave me a kiss and then slid her body down mine, dragging those heavy breasts against me, until she was kneeling between my legs.

Abby took my hard cock between her hands and studied it, looking at it, touching it. She wrapped her fingers around the shaft and lowered her lips to the tip. It was hard, for these next few minutes, to keep my eyes open. I wanted to see what she was doing but it was so transcendentally wonderful that I could only feel the feeling, I could not use my eyes to look at things. I think she had her lips on the crown of my cock and used her tongue to stimulate that overly-sensitive part of my body, creating a sensation that could either be described as unbearable pain or unearthly pleasure. While she was doing that she began using her fingers to jack me off gently, and then with her other hand she began stroking my scrotum underneath.

It was all very relaxed and friendly, and I felt like we must have all the time in the world. At least, I would let her keep doing that until the end of the world; there would be no reason to do anything else. After a few minutes she began to slip her lips down the shaft of my cock, up and down, torturing the head of it with each stroke then dipping her face again toward my belly.

She was kneeling at the foot of the bed and now she stood up on the narrow strip of floor and turned around to position herself facing away from me, her knees near mine. She lowered her body onto me, impaling herself deeply on my hard cock, settling down on me, then began pumping up and down. I saw her hand go to her pussy and knew she was playing with her clitoris while she fucked me. This is one of my favorite things, I take it as an incredibly good sign if a woman is serious enough about sexual pleasure to take care of herself without feeling self-conscious about it. Now I began pumping my cock into her and she had apparently gotten beyond the shushing stuff, because she rode with me, meeting my thrusts in the reverse cowgirl position until she froze and began convulsing and moaning with her second orgasm of the evening. When it subsided she stayed upright and looked back over her shoulder at me with a radiant smile.

"She?" she said. "I told you."

Her hand remained busy as she rode me until she came again, and then again, and then again. I saw her drop her hand to her side after that as she worked on me, using her slick pussy to stroke my cock inside her. I took this opportunity to get my feet under me and go up onto my knees behind her. I did it without pulling out, and now I suppose you could say we were doing it doggie style, though I personally do not much like that name for it. I was on my knees behind her, rocking my penis into her from behind. I felt a finger touch my balls and knew she was playing with herself again. And she came again in another minute, laughing this time while her body spasmed.

"Roll over," I said, pulling out of her. She got on her back and I got on top of her, slipped into her and began by going halfway in with each stroke. Then on the fifth thrust or so I rammed her deep and she groaned. Shallow for a few, deep for one, it was random, I did not give her a chance to know when it was coming. Over time the deep shots became more frequent. I was lying on her and her arms were around me, her legs were up over my back, and I was rocking her like a jackhammer. She reached a hand underneath and in two seconds she went crazy, shaking and groaning, laughing, crying. That orgasm did not subside completely before another one hit her.

They came one on top of the other in waves, maybe there were a lot of them and maybe it was one long one, and soon we were both coated with a layer of sweat. Our breathing was strained, our muscles were giving out. I slowed down and stopped, then rolled off her.

Now came one of the most pleasant parts of the evening. I lay on the bed beside her at an angle where I could get my hand on her pussy. She also could reach my cock, and we lay there exhausted, stroking one another. She continued having orgasms as I stimulated her clitoris in various ways, rubbing, pinching, pressing, even slapping it sometimes. This girl was dedicated to the art of the orgasm and had them every way. I finger-fucked her and she came, I worked a finger into her asshole and she came with my thumb on her clit.

In the meantime our sweat was evaporating, we were cooling down, catching our breath, and somehow we ended up fucking again, lying on our sides. It was nice from that angle to watch her fingers work between her legs as she made sure she got over the edge, the sign of someone who is experienced and who knows what she wants, and isn't just trying to impress her partner. This is a blur, but I ended up lying with my face between her legs, sucking her engorged clitoris, fucking her with my tongue -- she was musky and wet and delicious, there is nothing better in the world than going down on an aroused, hot, sloppy-wet pussy. She would come, pressing her thighs against my ears, and then we would shift. For a while we were on our sides and she had my cock in her mouth and gave me a good old-fashioned blow job. It was warm and relaxing, flowing from one act to another, sometimes fucking, sometimes giving or receiving pleasure another way.

It was getting late and we were reaching the end of our energy reserves. I said, "I am going to have to go pretty soon."

"I was afraid you'd say that."

"Well, it's late."

She rolled onto her back and said, "Fuck me again."

This did not take a lot of persuasion. My cock felt like it was about to burst out of its skin, it had been rock-hard so long and had received so much stimulation. I knelt between her legs and slipped it in and she raised her legs up over my shoulders. Now she did not play with herself, this was for me. She began rocking her hips provocatively, taking me deep, squeezing my erect cock somehow with her vaginal muscles. She pulled my body down against her, crushing those big breasts under me, and gave me a passionate deep kiss. "Give it to me," she said. "I want a big load of cum to remember this night."

I did not try to argue with her logic. Instead I worked my hips to give myself the most pleasure, slipping in and out of her very well lubricated and very snug vagina. I teased her with the tip of my penis just pressing against the opening, then slid in deep and fucked her with long strokes, stimulating my entire length deliciously, until I could feel the expulsive brew mixing inside my hips. I continued the rhythm thinking about nothing but the pure sensation of her hungry pussy clutching at my aching cock. Slowly, slowly, the excitement rose, my internal fluids mixed and surged toward release and with a yell I rammed my cock deep. Bam-bam-bam I plunged into her, shotgunning a bucketload of jizz far up inside her. Her eyes were closed under me as her body rocked with my thrusts.

And then it was over. I collapsed on top of her and she stroked my hair while our bodies stuck together with a new crop of sweat.

"See?" she said. "I told you. I needed that."

I gave her a kiss and we lay quietly for a few minutes, panting. "What are you going to tell Monica?" I asked her after a while.

"I don't know," Abby said. "I suppose I'll tell her you came over. I don't think I need to go into detail."