Chapter 32.
Trevor meets the Slut-Wives.
His trips fell into a regular pattern. In August, the days were interrupted by cloud and rain. Tourists were few, and he could sit alone in a bar and make his leisurely choice. In January, the weather was fine and the tourist season still in full swing. Competition for the best girls was great. The most desirable girls were, by their appearance, easy to spot in the street; they were better dressed and more confident. He learned to intercept them before they arrived at work:
'"Hi, where do you work?"
" ***** "
"I've got your bar-fine here," [produce money,] "I'll pick you up at seven."'
If a girl was pleasing, he would ask for her cell-phone number, and give her his:
'"Let's keep in touch. Give me a call if you have nothing on."
"See how you are. You only like me if I have nothing on."'
On a Friday, he didn't even stop in a bar for a drink. It was the early bird who got the worm, so he would walk in, shortly after opening time, and look over the line-up. As soon as he spotted a girl he would like to take out, he identified her to a waitress and paid her bar-fine, returning later to collect her. There was then, no longer pressure to find a girl for that night.
By midnight he would start receiving calls from girls who had not been bar-fined, asking to come to his hotel. Often, the caller would have a friend who wanted to accompany her, so, for the price of a bar-fine he would have two girls, and the bonus of a lesbian tableau as an hors-d'oeuvre. He learned to play the Horn Dog game, and posted photographic records of his orgiastic vacations to the forums, becoming a notable poster.
The years unfurled sedately, but the three week slices of freedom were over in a blink. As his retirement approached, Trevor lost all interest in work; his mind had already emigrated, and his life was lived through his computer, through the forums. On his vacations, he would live the Horn Dog life, but seek a girl to share his retirement. More 'upmarket' clubs opened, and occasionally he would take a 'model.' This was expensive, but convenient. No questions needed to be asked, no negotiations undertaken, they came equipped with the blow-job lips and elastic arses he so desired, and with no conditions or limits on access to, or use of them.
But, when he penetrated them, like a good Horn Dog should, it was with a sense of commercial entitlement, and their response was efficient and professional. Pleasing though the experience was, with them he could never recreate the excitement and emotional intensity of the first occasion, when he awkwardly, and only partially successfully, penetrated Allyza's anus. However, on each successive holiday, Allyza's memory became evoked less and less often. By his seventh visit, he could sit in La Bamba for hours and not think of her.
On one occasion, he came upon Boxi shopping in the market, dressed very smartly, her arm draped affectionately around her husband's waist. Her open face was primed to smile. In his arms her husband carried a baby to whom he cooed as he walked. Trevor's eyes locked with Boxi's for just a second, and memories flooded back, then they passed and resumed their current lives. Boxi's happiness made him both happy and sad. Happy, because she had found someone to love and cherish, and, by whom to be loved and cherished, but sad, because he had not yet achieved the same.
Over the years, Trevor's network in Angeles grew. Donald introduced his friends to him, and the regulars at Thi-Hi became his intimates. Grant relocated to Angeles and set up home with Alma. Trevor would also meet up with members of the forum who regularly sojourned in Angeles. Amongst those was Wayne, Kim's husband. Wayne and Kim set up home in Diamond Subdivision, where Kim lived, and was visited by Wayne two or three times a year. Trevor closely observed their relationships.
When Toppsy and the children visited Donald, a child-minder was hired, and the couple went bar-hopping with Trevor. Toppsy was vivacious, and prized her spectacular bust. Whatever she wore, she always displayed a long cleavage which bulged from the compression of a hi-lift bra, and sagged under the suction of gravity. When she laughed, her breasts bobbed and rippled delightfully, and on account of that she laughed a lot, pleasuring the eyes drawn, like compass needles, to her magnetic bosom. In the bars, she was at home, reverting to a young girl again, standing next to Donald, her hand on his knee and writhing to the music, she in possession of him, and he in possession of her magnificent, undulating bosom, which was desired by every guy and envied by every girl.
"I'm gonna be busy with the tournament tomorrow. Why don't you take Toppsy bar-hopping; keep her occupied. She's taken quite a shine to you?"
Donald's suggestion took Trevor by surprise.
"Take her back to your hotel, save yourself a bar-fine."
"Well, provided I don't upset anybody ..."
"Jesus! No! When I married her she'd been fucked by half the strength on the base. She was a top girl. There was a lot of competition for her favours I can tell you. No ... It's nice to know she's still fuckable ... that other guys fancy her. When we had the bar she was always near the top in the monthly returns. I think she's as beautiful as ever, but it's nice to be reassured from time to time. You wouldn't deny a friend a little reassurance would you?"
"I don't feel in the least inclined to let you down," said Trevor.
"I like nostalgia tonight. Let's go in Black Pearl," Toppsy had suggested to Trevor. "I work in here for two years before my first child," she told him, as they sipped their first drinks.
"Any faces, you knew, still here?"
"Nomore. It is fourteen years ago now. Nonoy is fourteen."
Trevor looked around. Compared to the present staff, Toppsy was glossier, her hair shinier, her face more at ease, her body more comfortably furnished.
"Life is easier now?" said Trevor.
"I had so many friends here. We had so much fun."
A girl passed their table, leading a customer towards the rear, and Toppsy's eyes followed them.
"I met so many people, it was always exciting," she added. "I was so attractive then, always busy."
Trevor laughed. "You know you're still a very attractive girl. If you went back to work tomorrow you'd still be a busy girl."
"You are so nice," said Toppsy. "Donald is lucky to have a friend like you."
"Oh ... Donald's done me more favours than I've done him."
"Yes. I remember. Your photos. What happened to that girl? She was in love with you."
Trevor's gut wrenched. "It didn't work out in the end. She married another guy."
"And you do not find another girl, or you just like to be a butterfly?"
"Not another girl like her."
"Not like her ... Oh dear ... I am sorry. Never mind. Tonight, close your eyes and imagine you fuck with her."
"That'll be difficult; even with my eyes closed your body's still very distracting."
"I know. When I give the blow-job so many guys close their eyes. I think they imagine, maybe their wife, or girlfriend. But, I do not mind, I have Donald."
"So, why don't you two live together? I don't understand why you're apart?"
"Donald like the girls too much. He like to butterfly. I must look after the kids. It is not a life for the kids, so I live in the province. He is old, so I let him have his happiness."
"And he doesn't mind if you butterfly."
"No. I always come back with him. So, it give him great pleasure. You enjoy, I enjoy and he enjoy. I will tell him how much I enjoy. You must tell him also. He will be very happy."
"And, you do enjoy?"
"Of course. I know that soon, men will not look at me. I enjoy while they still like to fuck me. That is how I want Donald to remember me. As the girl all the guys like to fuck."
They bar-hopped for a few hours, then returned to Trevor's hotel. On entering his room, Toppsy proceeded like almost every girl he had ever bar-fined. She switched on the TV, selected a channel, examined the fridge and took something to drink and snack on, then wrapped a towel around herself and proceeded to extract her clothing from beneath it.
"We shower now?" she invited.
Trevor quickly finished undressing, and she led him into the shower. There, she removed her towel to reveal her body. Her muscle tone was still good and she stood erect, but over her muscle there was a layer of padding which softened the lines into graceful curves. It was an opulent body crowned by her large pendulous breasts, which now, unsupported, hung down with the weight and dignity of those of an earth mother. The hallmarks of fertility were apparent in her suckled nipples and gently rippled belly.
They soaped one another, and Trevor weighed her gravity-encumbered breasts in his hands; then they returned to the bedroom.
"A while," said Toppsy.
She searched in her bag and took out a cord with which she proceeded to bind her breasts. First she squeezed them into taut brown globes, then, bound them together, and finally raised them erect, securing them in place with a loop behind her neck. She shimmied her shoulders, to demonstrate how this improvised breast management, radically changed the dynamic response of her bust.
"You like, like this?" she asked.
Trevor had not seen this done before, and was impressed by the way her prized assets were tamed, harnessed, and recaptured from the haphazard control of gravity.
"Oh yes. Very much."
Toppsy knew from the excitement in his eyes, he was not being polite; his penis had instantly stiffened when she presented herself.
"First, I give you my blow-job."
She gently pushed Trevor's chest and he subsided back to sit on the bed. She knelt before him, took command of his penis, and brought her, many years, of experience to bear. Several times she teased him almost to the point of ejaculation, but skilfully suppressed the spasm only to return his pleasure to that same point of orgasmic intensity a few minutes later. Finally, she pushed him back onto the bed and slid up over him, bathing his body in her soft, hot flesh, imprinting her bulging breasts against his chest and pressing her lips to his, thrusting her tongue into his mouth.
Her body lay, like a blanket of sensual pleasure, enveloping him, and he lay helpless, unwilling to move, enjoying the subtle undulations and frictions between their bodies as they breathed, absorbing her maternal body heat and the rhythmic pulsing of her heart. Their two tongues, tangled and danced, communicating the enthusiasm they felt for one another.
Trevor admired the clever way Toppsy had taken him from a condition in which, without her intervention he would have involuntarily spasmed, to one where, without her intervention, he would lack the will to move.
Toppsy pulled her face from his, and gasped for air. "Now you fuck me."
She lay back and pulled her knees up, inviting Trevor into her. He inserted himself into her vagina and, hands on her knees, began to thrust. Instead of the gentle rippling, whipping movement he was accustomed to see, Toppsy's bound, erect breasts jerked stiffly.
"Like this," said Toppsy, taking hold of her nipples and stretching and milling them between fingers and thumbs.
Trevor took her nipples and began to mill.
"Harder ... harder," she called.
