Small Town Whore

Judy Henderson was flipping through one of the large stationery sample books, unable to make up her mind between the heavy robin's egg blue stock with gold embossing or the sunset pink twenty pound stock with ocher embossing. She needed someone else's opinion, and she looked up to see if anyone was available.

She saw that the only other person in the store was the clerk, Hannah Wilcox. Judy chewed her lip, considering her options. She decided on the blue, since even the wrong decision would be better than taking the advice of that little slut. Hannah was only twenty-four years old, and she already had a six year old daughter in the first grade. Darling child, that Amanda Wilcox. It was such a shame she was a bastard child.

Hannah hadn't been able to graduate high school because of the baby, and she'd never named the father, though there were so many candidates. Word was, Hannah spread her legs for anything in pants, and maybe even a skirt, a thought that made Judy flush deeply. She'd really cleaned up her act since the baby though, Judy gave her that much credit, but she'd be damned before she'd let her husband Fred within ten feet of the little tramp.

It was really a sad story. Irma Wilcox had been married to Mike Wilcox from Dale's Hardware. Mike had married Irma right out of high school, like it should happen, and little Hannah came along two years later. Then, when Hannah wasn't yet even one year old, Old Gary Weaver had run Mike down while driving drunk.

Well, Irma didn't have much in the way of money of course, so she lost her house and had to move into a trailer on the edge of town, taking a job at the Freedom Diner. A pretty and popular woman, Irma ruled that roost and she tried to raise her daughter right. Unfortunately, Hannah proved to be the best of both Mike and Irma physically, but the worst of them both character-wise.

Sure, she was always polite and friendly, but no sooner did she have bosoms than the stories about her exploits started. Of course, nobody was 'fessing up to doing the deed with her, though all of the boys shared winks and smiles whenever she came up in conversation. And what more proof did you need, what with her having that bastard baby, Amanda?

When her mama, God rest her soul, passed away a few years back, Hannah and Amanda would have been out on the streets if it hadn't been for the kindness of old Ben Crosby, who hired her to work there, at Crosby's Stationers. Of course, it was pretty common knowledge that Mr. Crosby smiled a lot more than he had before giving it to Hannah - his kindness, that is.

Such a beautiful girl too, Janet thought, though you wouldn't know it looking at her now. She was five foot seven and a half, five foot nine in the tasteful heels she wore at work, and she was a slender little thing, only about a hundred twenty-five pounds. Sure, she'd put on about ten pounds after the baby came, but it had apparently all gone into her large, D-cup boobs and her full, rounded hips. She had one of those bodies that was all soft curves, a genuine hourglass with no sharp edges. Her long, straight golden blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun, her big baby blue eyes always seemed to smolder and made it seem like "good morning" was an invitation to carnal delights.

She wore a peach colored suit jacket over a cream blouse, and her peach skirt reached just past her knees. She had lovely legs, but at work anyway they were hidden by her skirt and disguised by supermarket pantyhose. Her nails were well-kept, Judy admitted, and a lovely shade of pink that matched the lipstick on her perfect, full pouty lips. If she had one shortcoming, it was that her nose was a little big for her face, but not enough to be noticeable to anyone who wasn't seeking fault in her.

"Can I help you, Mrs. Henderson?" Hannah said, and Judy thought her voice sweet and melodious. She had been one of the soloists in the church choir before Emmy Denton had complained about her low morals to the Deacon.

"Yes, Dear," Judy said with a sweet smile. "I'd like to order some new stationery. If I could get my monogram embossed on this," she indicated the stock she'd chosen.

"That's perfect!" Hannah gushed, clasping her hands in front of her. "It's exactly what I would have picked out for you!"

"Er," Judy said, rocked back on her sensible heels, "I think I'm going to wait and check with my husband first." Judy picked up her handbag decided to go back to Crosby's on Monday, Hannah's day off. She was heading for the door when Hannah called out.

"You be sure to tell Fred that I asked after his health." The door closed behind Judy, the bells chiming, and Hannah added, "Have a nice Saturday evening, Bitch." She went back to cataloging the new stock that had come in, smiling wickedly at the hell Fred Henderson was going to get put through that night.

Later, as Hannah was putting the boxes of stationery on the shelves, preparing to close, the bells on the door chimed and Hannah hurried to the counter. She felt her breath catch in her chest at the sight of Deke Slade. He had been a Senior at high school when Hannah was a Freshman, and he was the most handsome, nicest, most popular boy in the entire graduating class of sixty. He didn't let it go to his head though, and after graduation he'd gone to work with his daddy at the family business, boarding and training horses.

The first time she'd talked to him had been when she was a Junior, and she was waitressing for her mom. She'd taken his order one evening and they'd struck up a fine conversation. There had been real interest there, at least on her part, but a week later he hardly gave her the time of day. The last time she'd spoken to him had been three years earlier, when he'd called on her to offer his condolences on her mom's passing.

Deke was six foot five and weighed about two hundred twenty pounds of hard, lean muscle. A true cowboy, he was dressed in jeans, a red plaid shirt, and leather cowboy boots with pointed toes. He was clean shaved, with short black hair and beautiful green eyes that sparkled when he smiled. He had an air of sweat about him, a little grime on him that said he'd been working a man's job.

"Can I help you, Mr. Slade?" Hannah said, moving behind the counter, near the register. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but for the life of her she didn't know why.

"Hey there Hannah," he drawled softly, his voice deep and clear. "You know my name's Deke, for heaven's sake." She didn't know why, but Hannah found herself examining a sticker on the glass counter proclaiming the store accepted credit cards, and her cheeks felt hot.

"My cousin Sam, over in Howard, well, he's getting married. I was thinking about getting them some nice new stationery with their new monogram on it," he said, and Hannah looked up and saw that he seemed uncomfortable.

"I think that's a lovely idea," Hannah said. "I think it's a perfect gift." Deke twisted his toe against the floor in an obvious "aw shucks" manner.

Hannah escorted Deke over to the sample books and she flipped through three to find her recommendations. He stood close behind her, and Hannah felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

"I like that one," Deke said suddenly, leaning forward to put his finger on the sample. His other hand pressed lightly, innocently, on Hannah's lower back and caused her to gasp as electricity shot through her body. He quickly apologized and pulled his hand away, but every nerve ending was alive and waiting for the next glorious jolt.

"T-That's a good choice," Hannah said, looking up over her shoulder at him. Oh, he smelled good. He had that natural musky sweat smell that just drove her crazy.

"I think that's it then," Deke said, and he chanced to put his hand on her upper back, between her shoulder blades. Hannah closed her eyes and took her lower lip between her teeth as warm current passed through her. It felt so nice, so perfect, so...Hannah's' eyes snapped open and she turned, smiling uncomfortably.

She took the details for the sale and rang it up back at the register, safely behind the counter. "You can pick it up next Saturday," she said, smiling brightly at him.

"I'll be in town then," Deke said, his eyes gazing into her soul. "I guess I'll probably grab dinner at the diner, after," he said.

"Uh-huh," Hannah said, lost in his eyes. She shut her eyes and shook her head, laughing softly. "How about you come over and have a home-cooked meal with Amanda and me?" she asked.

"I think I might just like that," Deke said, his own smile bright. They said their goodbyes and he left. Hannah waited until she saw his pickup pull away before she ran over and locked the door, turning around the sign to read, "Closed". She was anxious, as always, to get home to Amanda and to change out of her work clothes. Tonight though, she was also looking forward to changing into a pair of dry panties.

* * * * *

When she'd gotten home, Hannah saw Miss Elsie off, thanking the old Black woman for the ten thousandth time for watching Amanda. Miss Elsie watched Amanda after school Tuesday through Friday, and all day on Saturdays. Miss Elsie was over eighty, and was a retired school teacher. The help she gave Hannah was nothing compared to the education she was giving Amanda.

Amanda watched the Cartoon Network while Hannah went into her daughter's bedroom to change. Things were cramped in the trailer, and Hannah kept her clothes in her baby's room, while herself sleeping on the sofa in front of the TV. She quickly stripped to nothing, then put on fresh panties (after pausing to make herself gasp as she remembered Deke's touch and his smell), worn old loose-fitting Levi's, and an over-sized Cowboys jersey. She took her hair down and shook it out, enjoying the freedom for about a half a minute before gathering it up with a scrunchy into a ponytail.

They had mac 'n cheese for dinner, and Hannah listened with rapt attention to the goings on in the first grade at Tucker Elementary. Based on what she heard, it was a veritable Peyton Place. She smiled sadly as she told her beautiful daughter to ignore the gossip, to make up her own mind about people. It didn't matter. Gossip was a cancer on her little town.

She'd just tucked Amanda into bed when the phone rang, and Hannah prayed it was a telemarketer. It wasn't. It was Tommy Travis, one of her old classmates.

"Hey there Hannah," Tommy said, not sounding too drunk.

"Hey Tommy," Hannah answered, curious but dreading the conversation.

"My buddy Amos is getting hitched a week from tomorrow," he said nervously, and Hannah allowed her heart to race at the thought of a real invitation to be someone's wedding date. "I was kind of hoping you'd be available to, uh," he paused, obviously uncomfortable, and Hannah was practically bouncing with excitement. "Well, I was hoping you'd be available the night before, you know, to see him off right?"

"Tommy Travis, you son of a bitch!" Hannah shouted, slamming down the receiver with a crash that made the bell inside the phone chime. She stormed into her tiny kitchen and yanked open the freezer. All of a sudden she had a date with a pint of cookie dough, and she planned on destroying it.

She was getting a spoon from the drawer when someone tapped lightly on the door. She set the spoon on the container of ice cream and answered her door. It was Art Jacobs, who had a trailer nearby to hers.

"Hey Art," she said, turning back to go into the kitchen, "come on in." She peeled the lid up from the container of cookie dough and pushed the spoon into the ice cream within. Art sat down at the little table where Hannah and Amanda had eaten their dinner and sat back, looking appreciatively at Hannah. She took a bite of her ice cream and waited until his eyes reached hers before asking, "What can I do for you?"

"I was feeling lonely," Art said. He was a short man, only five foot four, and he weighed about one hundred twenty pounds. He was in his thirties, and had moved to town a year back. He worked at the lumber yard, and since he was new to town he'd met Hannah on her own terms before the local gossip had a chance to ruin her reputation. Of course, things might have gone better if she hadn't done her best to confirm it.

"Art," Hannah sighed, "you get lonely almost twice a month now, and I'm all for this 'friends with benefits' thing, but it seems like you're gettin' all the benefits."

"Come on," Art laughed. "You're a hot-blooded woman, Hannah, and you probably want it even more than I do." She would never admit that he was right, nor would she ever tell him that while her desire ran hot and strong, it wasn't for him. He playfully pulled her to him, and he pulled out her jersey and put his head up under it.

Hannah sighed and looked at her kitchen ceiling while Art shook his face between her boobs. She didn't understand the fascination he had with doing that, but it was no harm. And then his mouth closed around a nipple and he sucked it, suckled her, and Hannah's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt her pussy draw up tight. Just like that, Hannah was breathing hard and beginning to soak her second pair of panties of the day.

Art unfastened her Levi's and slid them down over her hips, kissing a trail down her belly. Her panties were little cotton bikinis, vertically striped with juicy fruit colors. She heard him breathe in deeply, which made her think of Deke, and then his tongue started lapping at her through the cloth. Her legs parted and her ass clenched, thrusting her her moist mound against Art's mouth. Her hands were on his shoulders, holding on for dear life as his tongue worked the cloth of her underwear into her groove.

Art leaned back quickly, and he tugged and pulled to get his pants open. His cock, when freed, stood proudly, a five inch long tower of flesh rising from a thick dark forest of damp, musky curls. The mushroom head was bright red, and the thick shaft was covered by fat ridges of veins. He wasn't the biggest she'd had, but he was the second biggest. Of course, she'd only had two.

Art held the little packet containing his condom (ribbed for her pleasure, how sweet) and looked into Hannah's eyes as she slid her panties down and off. He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Screw you, Art Jacobs," Hannah said darkly, "I've told you before, I am not putting your greasy thing in my mouth." Art shrugged and tore into the packet, then rolled the condom over his raging prick.

Hannah straddled Art's lap and sat down on him, taking him inside her on the second try. She put her head down on Art's shoulder as her hips worked her pussy on him, holding him inside her as she ground her clit against his hardness.

Even if it was Art, Hannah knew, even if she didn't have the slightest bit of desire for him personally, his real, live dick felt a world better than either of the dildos she'd bought from late night TV. They were bigger, sure, at least longer anyway, but something about his body holding her, his shoulder to put her head on, the feel of his heart beating and his dick throbbing, well, it was just better.

"Come on," Art gasped, and Hannah rolled her eyes. Her head was still on his shoulder, so he couldn't see and be hurt. She ran through some things in her head, trying them out silently before starting.

"Oh lord, Art," Hannah enthused as the stared at a Crayola drawing of a turkey taped to the refrigerator, "you're a stallion!" His hands went up under her jersey and he pulled at her nipples, making her pussy clamp down on him like a puppet master pulling strings. "Oh yeah, Baby," Hannah cried softly as she examined a chip in one of her nails, "give it to me good! Give it to me, oh, give me your big ol' dick!"

Hannah was feeling it though, as her thighs tensed, her tummy muscles clenched, and her breathing became more ragged. He'd pull her boobs and her pussy'd clamp down around his fat prick, sending waves of pure joy through her. Her mind wandered, and she thought about Deke. She bet he had a great big dick on him, and boy would she just love to have him under her, no, on her, pushing it between her open legs, taking her.

Hannah's head snapped up from Art's shoulder and she stared wide-eyed into his little black eyes. "Holy shit, Art," she exclaimed, "I'm gonna come!"

"Oh yeah," he replied, "Am I gonna make you come, Darlin'?"

"Yeah, whatever," Hannah gasped, redoubling her grinding against him until she was actually bouncing on Art's cock. "I'm gonna come, Art. Please don't stop!" Art was thrashing in the chair, his head shaking back and forth as he grunted and groaned loudly. He was actually pinching her nipples now, twisting them, but Hannah didn't care, she had a real, honest to goodness orgasm cresting, looming darkly over her, the buzzing deep inside her, like when Deke had touched her back-

Her orgasm crashed down on her, and Hannah held tightly onto Art, afraid she'd be carried away by the flash flood current that pulsed through her. She buried her face in his shoulder and screamed her release, her relief, dug her nails into his back, and bit his shoulder.

"Whoa there!" Art hissed, "Back off, She-Demon!" Hannah brought her face to his and looked into his eyes, feeling conflicted, confused, and slightly annoyed. "Take it easy on my dick! It feels like you're tearing it off!"

"Did you come?" Hannah asked between panting breaths.

"Yeah," Art gasped, smiling broadly at her. "Good god, that was the best-"

"Get out," Hannah said, pulling up off of Art's dick. She went to the sink and leaned on the counter, feeling aftershocks rolling through her and driplets of cum roll down her thighs. She glanced back over her shoulder at Art, who sat where he was, condom-covered cock sticking straight up. His mouth hung open in shock. "What are you waiting for?" Hannah asked, "Git!"

Art was so confused by the situation that he closed his pants and left without taking off the filled condom. Hannah listened for the door to close, and when it did she went over and picked up her spoon. Melted ice cream poured off into the container, and Hannah picked it up and dropped it into the trash.

She pulled on her panties and sat on the end of her sofa, her bed, and softly chewed at her thumb nail. She didn't know what had just happened, but somehow, Deke Slade had just become the best, most incredible lover she'd ever had, and she hadn't had him. She thought about their date for the following week and smiled, "Yet." She hugged her tummy and felt another aftershock buzz softly through her before laying her head down and passing out.

* * * * *

It was nearly Noon, and Hannah sat in the 31 Flavors with Amanda, enjoying their weekly "After Church Ice Cream". She was trying to engage Amanda's immense curiosity without getting caught up in the continuation of the "Mommy, why do you smell funny?" conversation they'd had that morning. Hannah promised herself she would always bathe after sex, especially with Amanda getting older.

Hannah glanced out the window and saw a familiar truck. It was the black, late model Titan that Deke drove. Sure enough, standing next to the tailgate was the man himself, in jeans, a blue work shirt, and straw cowboy hat. He was lifting bags of cement weighing nearly a hundred pounds each, and tossing them into the bed of the truck His sleeves were rolled up, and she watched his muscles bunch and roll as he lifted and hefted the bags.

"Mommy, why are you all red?" Amanda asked, standing up on her seat to look out the window. "Do you have fever?" she asked, looking back at her mother with concern.

"Kind of, Baby," Hannah answered, finishing her ice cream quickly. "Sit down," she told Amanda, "That's not polite."

"I want to see what you're lookin' at," Amanda said. "What kind of fever do you have?"

"Finish your ice cream, Amanda Irma," Hannah said, holding a glass of ice water to her cheek and watching Deke work. When Amanda reported she was, in fact, done, the girls went out onto the street and headed for Hannah's old Toyota. She had her key in the passenger door when Deke called out a greeting and jogged over.