Please read the first part first.
This is a complete work of fiction.
We are all adults here.
*****
Monica struggled through the next hour and a half or so. Her dress was rubbing her stiff nipples into incredible sensitivity, and with each movement her breasts felt torturously delicious. Her panties were soaked through into her dress and her nerves were completely shot. Inwardly she cursed Jenna for leaving her like that, until it got busier and busier as the afternoon dragged on. Being by herself meant that for the last few hours of her shift before Mr. Jones came back, she had a line of customers and didn't have much time to ponder her situation.
The entire time her nipples remained pointy little bullets poking from her dress. Every man that she helped at the bank had his eyes on them, and she never felt so much attention thrown her way. The women weren't as nice, what with raised eyebrows and questioning looks. That was bad enough but when the kindly old schoolteacher Mrs. Riley took notice, Monica was positively humiliated.
When she finished cashing her teacher's paltry paycheck, her salary not being much, Mrs. Riley told Monica in a scolding tone, "Young lady. That is hardly appropriate to be flaunting the charms the good Lord gave you. Have some shame and cover yourself. You look like a downright whore."
Her face, usually so kind and matriarchal, was twisted in a disgusted scowl as she turned to leave. Monica was mortified and felt almost as if she had been spit on right in her face. The humiliation, however, sent a jolt of nervous energy straight down between Monica's legs, and she sighed as she felt herself becoming wet again.
Her day, soon after that, was thankfully over. But for Monica, the fun was just beginning. She went straight home after work, and wasted no time in stripping completely naked, and crawling onto her bed. The events of that day took a toll on her, after which her fingers took their toll on her helpless clit.
Monica wasn't home more than an hour and she had already masturbated to two amazing orgasms. A third was coming soon and she felt not the urge to stop. As her fingers rubbed tight, fast circles on her swollen, purple, little button she moaned and thought about Jenna. About Lisa. Imagining them naked and together in bed, and the jealous pang pushed her over the edge. This time, her third orgasm, she actually squealed and squirted. Her pussy spitting a nice little thin stream of girly cum from her fingertips to the end of her bed. Much to her surprise. At that, Monica giggled and resolved to do it again, the fun being in the attempt.
She had a very busy night after that.
Joanne was gasping for breath. Her body was glistening with a sheen of moisture from the strain of effort. Her head was down, and she was biting on the pillow hard, trying not to scream. The cock plunging into her tight ass was merciless, thick, and so long she felt like it was going to pop out of her mouth after running her through with every thrust. The chubby blonde housewife had no regrets however, as this thug was an animal in the sack. Her husband could learn from him, though Joanne doubted hubby had this kind of stamina in him.
She had met Johnny in a bar at the edge of her small town. Him and his skinny friend Rico. While Rico was cute in his own way, Joanne had been instantly attracted to the muscles and tattoos Johnny was sporting. There weren't many guys like him in her small town and she couldn't resist the offer to come back to the hotel room for a drink. And now he had been pounding her for the better part of two hours, invading every hole Joanne possessed.
He didn't care she was married and neither did she apparently. He was only in town for a few days on business, and Joanne hoped to catch this cock again before he left. If she could sneak away from home again.
Johnny, for his part, was just killing time. The boss would be here tomorrow or the next day and then they could collect the debt they were here to collect. Hopefully leave this podunk town and get back to business in the big city. Back to making real money. As Johnny assfucked the chubby little blonde he wondered why the boss was so set on collecting from the girl they came for. It was ten grand for sure, but even Johnny would blow through that much spending ten minutes in a strip club. Must just want to set an example. As he chuckled at the thought he slapped Joanne's plump behind and gave her colon a particularly hard thrust. Johnny did love the way a little blonde fuck pig squealed while getting buggered.
Rico heard the squeal coming from the bedroom-well the hours of squealing really-and chuckled. He took another long swig of the fifth of rum on the table in front of him and continued his current task. His usually current task. Disassembly of his twin .45 pistols, cleaning, then reassembly. Over and over three times. It was a compulsion. Johnny liked grabbing a girl for naked fun on these sort of outings while Rico obsessively cleaned and cleaned his guns. To each his own. That's why they always got hotel rooms with separate kitchen and bedrooms.
When he was still a punk, Rico was coming up with a small time gang. His very first confrontation with a rival gang had turned ugly and guns were drawn. Rico drew fast and first, only to have his automatic jam as soon as he pulled the trigger. For his pains, he took a gut shot, and vowed to never let that happen again. So now he was obsessive about his pride and joy. A twin set of stainless steel, pearl handled, Colt .45's. His girls. So as he started taking them apart again, the room smelling of oil and cleaning solvent, he chuckled as more squeals came from the bedroom.
Jenna was already at work the next morning when Monica dragged herself in. A bit disheveled and looking a bit worse for wear, Monica started her day. It was her turn to get to work fifteen minutes late, and even Jenna was surprised. Of course of all days for Jen to get to work on time, it happened to be this day.
Jenna was already at her station processing the night drops, in her usual tight skirt, skimpy top, and too high heels. So when Monica got to her station she looked down at her own outfit. Tight black slacks, a white blouse with a grey cardigan over, and her usual sensible black flats. She yawned and briefly considered a trip to the mall over the weekend. Maybe she could use some slighty nicer clothes. Maybe some not so frumpy clothes. Her mind whispered, maybe some...sluttier clothes.
