Murphy’s is closed on Sunday, but there is no religious significance to that custom. The simple fact is that in this neighborhood most of the residence, and the bulk of our trade, probably thinks they are God so they rest. Adding to that speculation is the fact that a good many of them party so hard on Friday and Saturday nights that they need the tranquil time to recuperate for the upcoming 40.
I need the diversion from all the bullshit I have to cope with the six days I keep them in booze. I’ve been doing this for years, so I guess it is a workable arrangement between me and Murphy. All he’s concerned about is the size of his bank deposits. As long as they meet with his approval, the rest is up to me.
The nice thing about my Sunday off is that my little angel comes by to see me and light the fire in my pussy and my boobs. Fannie is a few years younger than me, but somewhere along the road she learned to eat pussy with the best of them. There’s no doubt that she puts a great big smile on my face, and a smoldering satisfaction in my crotch. Life is good.
She was running a little later than usual, but there she is now turning into my driveway. I am already dressed for the occasion. I am wearing a mid-drift knit top that barely covers my breasts, and a pair of very short cutoffs and nothing else. Why bother? My little sex goddess would have me out of a suit of armor in record time if she was horny enough. And, I never saw the time when she wasn’t rearing to go. Sexually, that is to say.
“Come into my house you little bundle of suck and poke. I was about to give up on you, girl.” One of my customary greetings just rolled effortlessly off of my tongue.
“And good morning to you, too, you big tittied, fat assed broad,” she said while grinning from ear to ear. “Are you the only thing in the house that is hot or do you have some coffee on the stove?”
“Check for yourself you little shit,” I said pursuing our usual sarcastic banter.
Fannie ran her hand up under my skimpy top and squeezed a boob lovingly. “You’re feeling better than you look, Hussy.”
“It’s a pity you couldn’t bring more woman with you,” I lashed back in jest. “I’m hornier than Hell, and my pussy is puckered beyond recognition.”
“I’d recognize that sweet hairy monster no matter what,” she said, “and by the way, there is all the woman you need in these jeans, ma’am.” She got her coffee and took a straight back chair at the kitchen table.
“I don’t dare argue with that, Love. When it comes to eating pussy, there’s none better.” I figured it was time to adjust the tone of our chit-chat. Fannie was looking especially fine this morning. Considering her petite frame, she had some of the most mouthwatering breasts in the county. And, today they were mine.
I walked around behind her chair and gently nibbled on her ear and neck. Then I stuck the tip of my tongue in her ear. “Get my message?”
“Loud and wet, Love,” She said softly.
I ran my hand down the front of her jeans until I felt her puffy pussy. It was wet alright. “You feel marvelous,” I whispered back at her ear. As I started to withdraw my hand from under her jeans, she grabbed my wrist and turned her head toward my mouth for her good morning kiss. Our lips met, our tongues danced, and I wiggled my index finger against her swelling clitoris.
“Oh, wow,” she sighed. “I needed that.”
“You’re going to get a lot more, Sugar,” I promised as I joined her at the table.
