"You're my precious whore, darlin'. You know that." Then I grunted obscenely.

Doing it the best way, our favorite way, I drove my steely cock into my dearest and screwed her on top of the scrambled satin sheets. My hands grasped her ankles, holding her curvy legs wide so I could fuck that never ending jelly roll of lust. Always a grand screw. Her short but sharp fingernails raked down my quivering back. I thrust deeper, accepting her gripping, tightening pussy for my own.

It's always been mine. Since that night so many nights ago.

*****

"That's her. At the walk-up window, ordering. She's the town whore. Mandy Carter. That's what everyone says."

She stood upright, her head tall, her back sensually curved. Standing there at the Tastee Freez with bosom proud. Long, flowing chestnut tresses sweeping down over aristocratic shoulders. A white silk blouse covered by a delicate snowy angora sweater, with a pleated plaid skirt. She had on red Chuck Taylors and white socks. She turned abruptly and glanced at me in my Ford. I think I blushed. But I smiled, if only to myself.

My cousin was leaning against my car chatting. My left elbow jutted out the open window.

"Okay, Hank," I announced, "I'm gonna drive around a while." I pulled slowly ahead towards the exit. 

The cicadas were singing loudly in the elm trees as jalopies pulled slowly around the drive-in revving motors, releasing leaded gas fumes. Some pulled in. Others used the drive through and continued around the loop into town, around the county courthouse, and back here.

My car was almost onto the highway. Someone pounded on the passenger side. Mandy was trying to get the fussy door open. Finally she did it, slipped in, slapped my thigh, and shouted,  "Get goin', please. That shit ass is comin'."

I spun out over loose gravel, sending some back towards a hulking figure in the rear yelling obscenities. I was going to the left and downtown now. The scent of Evening in Paris drifted over as a slight breeze wafted it to my nose. My mother used that perfume.

"Turn to right up yonder. I reckon if he follows us he'll go on downtown." The highway branched here. The right took one down a darkened rolling road to the state park. This was an adventure I wasn't going to miss.

"That Deacon Gillooly is a total dip shit. Thinks he owns everything and everybody in town. He's a bastard." She was leaning towards me as the summer wind blew into the open windows. "Who are you anyway, hon?"

"I'm Peter. I'm new. I have no clue about most people around here." I was smiling as I related this. I could feel her fingers idly caressing my leg as she hummed. Warm and tingle causing.

"Oh, hon. Go on down to the hatchery. Let's watch the trout." We entered the park. It was a through highway and was never closed. What people paid for was fishing and the other extras like the log cabin hotel and the miniature golf course. Lots of swimming in the pool or the river. Stuff like that.

There were tourists and such down there walking around. The trout hatchery was popular. The park was super crowded on opening day in spring. It was later in the season now. We parked in the hotel lot on the river. 

"Hey, c'mon, sugar. Let's walk." She hopped out and ran around to me, taking my hand. "We're cool, hon." She lifted it and kissed my palm. Have you ever felt close to heaven? She was grinning now. We took a stroll up a trail along the limestone ridge.

"So, hon, you know who I am, right? I bet you know that for sure." Her voice was low and trembling just a bit. We had been simply talking agreeably for the past few minutes, trying to get into each other's heads as folks do. Then she blurted this out. I knew what to do.

"Yep. I heard something. Don't know if it's true. You tell it and we'll start from there. Okay, Mandy?" I squeezed her shaking hand, swung it up and down a couple of times, like we were on a first date. We sort of were.

"Listen, I got a reputation around here. My ex-boyfriend wasn't happy with me breaking up. Now the whole world thinks I'm the town whore." She was stopped on the pathway as oak leaves trembled in a slight breeze. Her Evening in Paris scent filled my nose with far away dreams. We had passed wisteria growing over an arbor. 

"Wisteria petals lately drifted down," she whispered. "The past is renewed. Paris draws us back to haunts, remembrances. Laughter echoes off the stuccoed walls. The petals drop among the steps left behind."

"What's that," I asked. "Sounds like a poem."

"I don't know. Was just what I was feeling right then," she replied. "You ever wanna go to Paris?"

"I will. I want to and I will. I want to write for the Paris Review." I grinned and she grabbed my jacket lapels. She looked up. I leaned down. We kissed.

Back at the car we spent a while necking in the back seat. Then she pulled me out to the rear. She hopped up on the trunk lid.

"Fuck me, Peter. You're gonna be my first. Ever. Believe me?"

*****

Mandy whined, wrapping her legs about my torso. My maximum warp speed was achieved and my cock was fickity fucking with glee in my darling's sticky taffy cunny. "Fuck me, prince. Oh, shit, my baby darling fucker, fuck me." She always did have a mouth on her. But we were doing alright now. Lying here in a hotel room in Paris, fucking my princess until she cried out that she was coming just for her Magic Man. I would always be the man who worked his charms and saved her from her own purgatory of notoriety.