I assumed her given name was Louise, though she never said; and Sal just called her Weezie. The lady cleaned up well. By the time we had arrived in Flagstaff she was dusty, dirty and sweaty, as were we all. Me, especially. The El Camino they were driving had air conditioning but the cooling systems in that 1970 vintage wagon had little chance against the 100 degree plus temperature of the southwest in July.
However when she emerged from the bathroom showered, dressed and painted for an evening out she turned my head. She was pushing 40 judging by her eyes, which definitely had years in them. Probably those eyes had seem plenty, and judging by her reaction to our sexual escapade several minutes earlier so had her body.
Sal, the exotic apparel peddler from Chicago was still asleep on the floor after having reamed my gender bending asshole for a good ten minutes. She and Sal had returned to the motel early from their evening out. They found me flouncing around in some of their merchandise; specifically, a camisole, silk panties with belt, stockings and white stiletto high-heels. I had become increasingly aroused the longer I wore that stuff and when the door of the adjoining room flew open my hard cock was straining against the silkiness of the panties. Being in that state I was ripe for anybody who wanted to pluck me and Weezie picked up on that immediately. Sal appeared more focused on the fact that this hitchhiker they had rescued was tampering with his merchandise.
Apparently Sal had wanted to fuck a guy for a long time and Weezie must have been anxious to see it happen.
In minutes they had me in their bedroom and Sal was made me pay with my ass for allowing myself to be drawn to (and into) female lingerie and footwear. He ordered me to bend over the foot of the bed. Then he tore off the pink panties I had adorned and with my shapely butt in the air he sprayed some cool liquid onto my rear. Before I had time to prepare myself mentally I was startled by the searing pain of a penis being pushed into my bowels by a man filled with a cocktail of rage, lust and maybe a beer or two. I had eaten less than two hours earlier and there was lots of gas inside me. His piston packed my bowel with air, which is typical in the earliy stages of anal sex. A couple of involuntary farts later the pressure was relieved and I started to groove on it.
This was my second fucking and this time I reacted differently. Something inside me decided years ago when a hot cowboy had his way with me that getting butt-fucked was something to enjoy. As soon as the pain subsided I caught up with his rhythm and I was giving as well as I was getting. I was moaning, groaning, and grunting clasping the bed linens in my fist and trying to avoid suffocation due to my face being pushed into the bed. Before long I was prone, my legs were splayed, and my lower torso was grinding my pulsating cock into the bed spread. However, through it all those white pumps remained on my feet.
Weezie began shouting at Sal about not cumming yet.
I soon realized she had positioned herself practically astride my head. She grabbed my long blonde hair and pulled my face up. “Eat my pussy while he’s fucking you, you sweet little queer.”
Yeah I guess I was a queer; but at that moment I was relishing my deviance. If being “queer” was this great then let it be. Right then I had a mouthful of swollen clitoris, and my tongue was darting in and out of her musky vagina. A bear of a man was covering me from behind and filling my body with warmth that I welcomed with every thrust and parry. Had I been in charge of this scene I would have backed him up against the wall and impaled myself the way I do now to the dildo stuck I stick on the wall or the cocks that protrude through the glory holes at the video store where I frequent.
Eventually we all came at about the same time. His hot spunk bathed my rectum in warmth of a liquid nature. Hearing Sal emit a loud and long “o-o-o-h” was enough for Weezie to pop her cork and my tongue was soon awash in her pussy juice. So much that I had to swallow as if I had taken a man’s load. I think I actually started the process by stretching my stiletto clad legs and pumping against the bedspread in order to induce an orgasm for myself. As I gulped air in between tongue swipes of Weezie’s clit, my cock filled with thick cum and then blew it out. I must have pumped two tablespoons onto that bedspread.
Fast forward five minutes.
Sal is passed out on the floor—still. Weezie however, was just getting started. She shouted: “Fuck me with a shoe.” At first I was perplexed. Then she repeated herself. “Fuck me with that goddamn shoe!” I pulled the left shoe off and lifted it up as if to ask How do you want me to do it? “Stick the toe in my cunt,” she said with a breathless urgency that I took seriously. “Stick it in there all the way to the heel.” I obeyed. To my amazement it went all the way in. “Oh, fuck yes…that’s it,” she said throwing her head back and lifting her buttocks several inches off the bed clothes. “Can you get it in any farther?”
“I don’t think so, Weezie.” I’m sure I looked like an inexperienced virgin to her
“OK, come up here so I can suck your cock.” I hesitated. “Don’t worry I’ll fuck myself with the shoe. I just want to suck on that cock while I’m doing it.”
My weapon had just fired only a few minutes prior but once it got into her mouth it quickly hardened up. And could that woman suck cock? Her left hand was pumping that shoe into her cunt. Her right hand was squeezing my ass cheek, and her mouth was taking me to Heaven. Imagine a baby calf suckling on your finger.
She went into ecstasy, but never stopped bobbing her head and working her tongue. I remember wondering how this would look to Sal if he were to awaken. I wished I could I could be watching it and doing it. It occurred to me that there was a mirror on the wall behind me. Since her eyes were closed I stole a peek backward and I’ll never forget the look of a summer-white woman’s pump half buried in a dark hairy pussy.
At that point she had let go of the shoe and both her hands were now on me. I reached back to help her with the shoe but she grabbed my arm and shook her head as if to say no, and gave me a close-mouthed “um-um.” Right about then she picked up the pace of her fellatio. Both hands were on my ass cheeks pushing my cock deep into her throat. She started writhing and vocalizing. I began to pump her mouth furiously until I got a tingle and a hot flash. Just as I began to fill my tube with a fresh load of poon she pulled off my cock and grabbed it with her right hand. She pumped it three or four times and then put her face in position to both see the ejaculation and to get a facial. Her left hand had gone back to the shoe.
I loosed a load all over her nose and upper lip. I had good volume considering I had cum no more than 15 minutes earlier.Just as the jizz was hitting her face she arched her back, threw back her back, and let out a long soulful groan. Then I heard a squishing sound, followed by a small crack somewhere behind us. However I was still in the throes of orgasm, collapsed against the headboard so as not to crash down on her, spent and semi-conscious. By the time I opened my eyes she had started gathering up my spunk with her fingers and was licking them. After the usual post-coital superlatives and exclamations I got around to asking her about the noise I heard.
“It was the shoe,” she said with a smile and then a little giggle.
“The shoe? Whaddya’ mean the shoe?” I couldn’t tell whether she was messing with me or not?
Giving me a little shove she said: “Look around.” I turned backwards. “Do you see that shoe anywhere?” There was a look of both pride and bemusement on her face.
I scrambled to my feet—careful not to step on the still prostrate Sal—and found the shoe on the floor between the foot of the bed and the dresser. I bent down and picked it up.
She was till beaming as I jumped back on the bed and began to present the shoe to her, still incredulous. Her eyebrows were raised.
“Go ahead put it in your mouth. It’s covered with my cum.” Those brown eyes were as big as her grin.
By then I was satiated. I had exorcised myself. The demons had been banished, and the fog of sexual madness had cleared. I began to ponder what had just taken place. Here is this wet shoe that had been used as a sex toy and then launched four feet out of a violently contracting vagina. I am wearing a garter belt and nylon stockings. There is a guy passed out on the carpet. My ass is dilated from having been well fucked by a thick penis. And the guy’s wife is naked, has just finished blowing me and a shoe out of her vagina and onto the floor, and is lying there blissed-out.
In the course of taking stock I realized my throat was parched—maybe from the arid air, maybe from the altitude of Flagstaff—probably due to dehydration. “Are there any more beers left in the cooler?” I asked Weezie.
“There should be,” she replied. As I walked toward the cooler she added: “Grab one for me while you’re there.” I pulled a couple of Coors Banquet brews from the now melted-but-still cold water in the cooler. There is nothing like barley pop when you’re dehydrated; and Coors was always a great palliative for desert mouth. I remember those beers we drank there in Flagstaff well because it was the first time I had seen a push tab on a beverage can. Coors had just introduced them (they never grabbed hold) and I struggled with them. Weezie ended up opening them smoothly and I ended up slightly embarrassed. I should say more embarrassed. I proposed a toast to “new experiences.” We banged our aluminum cans together and she answered with: “To another experience.” After her first sip she turned to me and said, “You know, I can tell you’re trying to make sense of what just happened.”
After thinking for a second I said, “I’m…no no…I’m OK with it.” Her response with the words I don’t believe you were exactly what I suspected she was thinking. “I had gotten horny wearing that stuff and wanted something to happen…anything, I guess.”
“Yeah, well you can take the stockings off now.” She said with that impish grin. With a sniff and a snort, I popped the garters and carefully rolled down the nylons careful not to cause a run. She watched me intently. As I stood up she whispered. “You have great legs.” Her voice trailed off. I felt myself blush. Then she completed the thought: “In fact, you have a great body overall.”
“Aren’t guys supposed to be lean, muscular, and shaped like…” I paused. “You know, like men.” I know I must have had an inquiring look as I said that.
True to the increasingly androgynous 1970’s (this was 1976) she answered: “All that macho shit.” She nodded at Sal now snoring on the floor. “He’s really like that. He has wanted to fuck a boy for a long time. Truth-be-told, he probably already had—maybe more than one. And when we talk about it, or some of the cute boys who come into the store, he goes through this thing where he questions his masculinity.”
She went on to tell me that she works the front of the store and Sal stays in the office handling the business end of things. She told me that he had two-way mirrors. One looked out on the sales floor. The other looked into the changing booth. “He is such a voyeur,” she said matter-of-factly with a hint of frustration in her voice.
“You mean he can watch people trying on stuff?” I said, astonished.
“He can, and he does, all the time.” I was so amazed I was speechless. More amazing was that my battle-weary pecker was starting to stir again. “He takes his penis out and whacks off right at his desk. I have caught him doing it a couple of times.” I could see a myriad of possibilities in that kind of set-up.
“I can tell when he’s done it because he has no interest in me that night.” I answered as most men would with that sucks. I listened intently as she continued. “We actually get more men in the shop than women but that doesn’t seem to matter to him. A couple of times I have actually gone into the dressing room and done guys ‘cuz I knew was watching. I even did a girl one time.”
“Oh fuck, Weezie” I said breathelessly, now very conscious of the erection I had.