The Predator Ch 03 2

Chapter Three

It was her snoring that woke me.

I stretched and just thought for a couple of minutes before moving. All in all, I figured it had been a pretty good hunt. I had food and shelter guaranteed for as long as I wanted them, and was pretty sure I'd nail the whole herd before I was done with this town (I had to stop and think before I could put the name Salida to it).

I eased out of the bed, being careful to not wake her, and slipped into the bathroom where I peed sitting down, wanting to be quiet. I used her toothbrush and her Listerine. When I looked into the medicine cabinet, as I always do in a new woman's house, I had to stifle a laugh when I saw the denture cup. A poem my cousin had taught me years ago ran through my mind:

At last, I've found the perfect girl.

I could not ask for more.

She's deaf and dumb and has no teeth.

And owns a liquor store.

When I walked back to the bedroom, padding quietly on bare feet, I stopped and just looked at my new girlfriend.

Christ, she was a mess. She slept on her back, or anyway she was sleeping on her back right then. Her legs were parted a bit and I could see the wetness under her. She was snoring and about every third exhalation involved a snot bubble that would pop, adding to the crust under her right nostril and on her lip. The room smelled strongly of sex and piss and semen and her sweat (well, my sweat too I suppose), with an underlying hint of shit and something she used, lavender perhaps. That big belly was soft enough that it sort of flowed over both sides a little.

In the daylight, I could make out interesting details.

Her breasts and belly and thighs were all dimpled with cellulite, a look I actually find kind of sexy. Her feet were fat too, with no arches at all. I couldn't wait to see if they were ticklish and I imagined she would be thrilled if I did her toenails for her. Her hands had short, pudgy fingers.

I liked what I saw.

I crawled, very carefully so I wouldn't wake her, up onto the bed. Then I propped my chin on my hand, my elbow crooked, and just watched her sleep. I was getting into my role of smitten lover, getting used to looking at her, practicing various looks - serious interest, smitten desire, smiling at her jokes, things like that.

The secret to being a good gigolo is the immerse yourself into the part. And before she woke I had it. I was looking at the woman who had captured my heart, whose happiness was my one goal in life.

And so I watched as she snored, inhaling her scent, hearing her sounds, convincing myself that I wanted to make her happy.

By the time she snorted, coughed, blew a gout of snot down her chin, and her eyes fluttered open I was ready.

"Good morning, beautiful," I said, kissing her before she was fully awake.

Her arms came around me, pulling me down, holding the kiss.

"Good morning, you beautiful boy," she said when we came up for air.

My hands were exploring again, her belly, and down, caressing rather than rubbing or grabbing, finding her crusty where I had cum and wet where she leaked. She squirmed in response.

I was kissing her again, covering her face with little kisses as I slowly worked my way around, on top of her.

"God," she giggled, "you're insatiable."

I was nuzzling her neck, my tongue traced the shell of her ear, and I said, "shall I stop."

She spread her legs and pulled her knees up, offering herself in the only position that would work without me breaking the kiss and pushing 80 pounds of belly fat out of the way, and said, "don't you dare."

I reached down and guided myself but she was not ready, not slick, so I scooted down, slowly, kissing as I went. I kissed her breasts, sucked each nipple just a bit. Then down, kissing her belly, my tongue probing deeply into her belly button. And then down further.

Her hair was damp where she leaked, and the scent of urine was strong since there was no aroused womanscent to overwhelm it yet. I kissed her pissy smelling mat of pubic hair and then down, kissing her labia, enjoying how quickly her body responded, her hips rocking a little now. Down here, with my nose so close, her anal leakage was obvious too. But I kept up, reminding myself that I was supposed to be in love. I kissed and licked her pussy until I smelled that wonderful womanscent as she started getting aroused.

And she was responding better than I hoped. Her fingers were entwined in my hair now as she got used to the idea, no longer trying to hold back. And I wasn't faking my enjoyment of this at all. I do love giving oral to a willing woman, and she was certainly willing. When I started probing with my tongue she started whispering, "yes baby, just like that."

I kept her going, building her slowly, feeling her body responding as the rhythm of her hips, rocking, and thrusting, sped up slowly. I had her covered completely with my mouth when I felt the first little warm squirt of her urine. I knew it was coming and was ready, swallowing noisily so she would know what I was doing.

And this time she didn't apologize.

I caressed where she was wet now with my cheeks and started crawling forward. When I entered her we fit nicely. She raised her hips slightly to match me and we merged.

"Do you love making love first thing in the morning as much as I do?" I whispered, deliberately using the word "love," getting her used to that idea too.

"Yes, God yes," she hissed, her arms pulling me to her.

"Baby," she said very softly, her voice tentative.

"Mmmmmhmmmm," I hummed into her ear.

"Please don't pull out this time," she said softly, "please fill me up."

I blew into her ear softly.

"What did I tell you?" I asked.

My rhythm was slow and steady now.

"What?" she managed, her breath starting to come in little gasps.

"Don't ask," I said, nipping her earlobe, "tell me what you want."

"Fill me up," she said, giggling a little, "don't you dare pull out," she said, slapping my ass lightly.

"As you wish," I said, speeding my rhythm a little.

She came, suddenly, bucking under me, thick wetness and hot urine spattering against the root of my cock when she did.

I arched my back, pushing as deep as I could, holding that tension in my body, not cumming, but making her feel like I was.

"Don't hold back," I whispered, kissing her forehead and eyelids and cheeks.

"Don't stop," she whispered back, her big body bucking.

I thrust hard and fast about five times and she came again, this time I could feel that she wasn't holding back. Her body was rigid. She was straining and came again, hard, lubricant, thick mucus, and hot piss flowing now. Suddenly she farted, a loud bubbly fart, and I couldn't help but giggle with her.

"Oh God," she moaned.

I chuckled and kissed her just below her ear, "I told you I'd clean you up, don't you dare start holding back now."

"Oh God," she moaned again but this time it was almost a joyful cry as she bucked under me again, cumming and farting, and I imagined shitting a little.

"I love it," I said, leaning on the L-word again, "when you let go."

"Fill me up, David, fill me up," she said, some strength in her voice.

So I sped up my rhythm and released my control. Five more thrusts and this time when my back arched I was doing what she wanted, filling her as my body pumped. I'm blessed with a large prostate gland, not swollen, just large, and I cum heavily when I let myself go, and I let myself go this time.

She hissed, "yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssss," and arched her back to meet my cock with her pussy as perfectly matched as possible.

It was a good ejaculation for me. I pumped five times, very distinctly, and then a few more little dribbles. A very good ejaculation. I was panting myself when I was done and she pulled me down onto her.

"David," she said and I realized she was crying a little, "thank you, God, thank you. I never had anything like that before."

I grinned down at her, the full Grin.

"Making love in the morning before anything else is wonderful, isn't it?" I asked.

"I love it," she said, easing into the L word herself.

I softened and slipped out and I rolled away.

"Don't gooooo," she said in a plaintive voice.

I went to the other side of the bed, kissed her. "I'm not going anywhere," I said, "just relax."

I went into the bathroom and found a towel that looked like it was about ready for the rag bag, ran the water until it got warm, and wet the towel. While I was waiting for the water to warm I rummaged through her drawers and found what I knew would be there. A package of Efferdent tablets. I filled the denture cup with water, dropped in the tablet, wrung out the towel, and went back into the bedroom.

She saw what was in my hands and blushed very prettily.

I chuckled, laid the towel across her belly, and stood at the side of the bed.

"Open your mouth, honey," I said, opening the denture cup.

"Davidddddd," she sort of whined.

"Come on," I said, just a hint of snap in my voice, "no secrets little Ms. Depends."

"Nobody has ever seen me without my teeth," she said, the blush deepening.

"Open your mouth, baby," I said again.

Her eyes met mine, pleading, but when I didn't look away she took a deep breath and opened her mouth.

The only question, really, was whether she had partial or full dentures. I used my thumb and forefinger and gave a little tug on her upper front teeth.

They were full dentures.

I dropped them into the denture cup and took them back into the bathroom.

When I got back to the bedroom she hadn't moved. Her face had changed dramatically though, her lips fallen in as people's do when they have no teeth. She was blushing furiously.

I bent to kiss her. I had to hold that position, a fraction away from her mouth, for several seconds before she met my lips with hers.

"You're gorgeous," I said and then started cleaning her up as I had promised.

My semen was pouring out of her. As I say, I cum heavily. But I did carefully use the towel to clean her public hair and lips.

"Roll over," I said, patting her hip.

"Oh God," she sort of moaned, but she rolled over.

It wasn't like she had shit the bed, but there was leakage and that fart had pretty obviously been pretty wet. She was stained throughout her asscrack with some spatters out where she sits. I cleaned her there, carefully, spreading her cheeks until she was pink and clean. I couldn't resist bending and kissing the tiny opening I had just cleaned, touching it with my tongue, making her squeal.

"Come on dirty girl," I said, smiling, "time for a shower and a bath."

I held her hand, supporting her as she stood. Her eyes got sort of big when my semen gushed out and ran down her thighs.

I walked her into the bathroom, held her hand as she sat on the toilet, and then turned on the hot water in the shower. I went back and kissed her as she peed and pooped, her eyes big at first but feeling her relax and accept this very special intimacy. When she was done she reached for the toilet paper but I covered her hand. She looked up at me as I made a pad from the toilet paper and reached between her legs.

"I told you," I whispered, "I'll take care of you." I kissed her, "front to back and I can reach better than you can."

"Oh God," she sort of moaned, but she leaned back and spread her legs so I could wipe her carefully.

I helped her stand when I was done and then checked the water temperature in the shower.

I adjusted it to barely not-too-hot and held her hand as she stepped in.

I scrubbed her face, being gentle where she was so crusty around her mouth and nose, shampooed her hair, and then washed her body. I was thorough and it was sensual, but it wasn't sexual.

When she did me it was clear that she hadn't showered with many men. Maybe none. She didn't really have much idea what to do.

So I coached her.

"Face honey, first," I said, turning my face up to the showerhead, wetting it thoroughly, and turning back to her.

She was very tentative at first so I covered her hands with mine and started demonstrating how much pressure to apply. Soon enough, she was giggling and washing me as thoroughly as I had done her. When I was clean I said, "stay here for a minute," and turned on the water in the separate tub, full hot, and then blended in just enough cold so I thought it would be tolerable. I rummaged through the under-sink cabinet and found what I expected, bubble bath, and poured a healthy amount into the water stream, watching it bubble.

I stepped back into the shower, turned my face up to the showerhead, filled my mouth, and turned and squirted her in the face making her squeal and giggle.

I turned off the water and held her hand as she walked to the tub and I supported her while she got in.

"Oh God," she sighed as she climbed into the steaming water.

"What did I do to deserve you?" she asked and I kissed her and said, "no, that's my question."

"Where are your sheets?" I asked and she pointed to a closet on the other side of the bathroom.

I found them and got a fresh set of sheets out and padded, naked, into the bedroom. The top sheet wasn't bad but the bottom sheet was sodden between her lubricants, my semen, and that mixture of piss and a bit of shit. As I had expected, there was a rubber mattress cover, so I used that damp towel to clean it off, then went into the bathroom, chuckling as she whistled, and got a second towel to dry it off.

I made the bed carefully, complete with the military corners I learned in basic training, put on fresh pillowcases, pulled up the blanket, and pulled everything tight.

"Baby, I'm pruning up," she called from the tub so I said, "be right there."

I reached down and pulled the bathtub plug and then held her hand, supporting her as she stood.

Wet and dripping like that she looked like a beached whale.

I whistled and started on her hair with a fluffy bath towel.

She was obviously enjoying the attention as I dried her face and then her body.

I had noticed them earlier so I got into her linen closet and pulled out a pair of her Depends and got to my knees and held them for her to step into. She was blushing furiously as she watched what I was doing.

"Let's get you ready to face the day," I said, smiling up at her.

She didn't say anything, just put her hands on my shoulders for support and did that awkward little two-step to get started getting them on.

I worked them up slowly, making it a sensual experience. I kissed her belly and gave her a big raspberry on her belly button making her squeal and giggle as I worked the XL size pullups over her big ass. Once I had them on I carefully smoothed them so they wouldn't show a panty line, well, a diaper line I suppose in this case.

She was still blushing when I stood and kissed her.

"Very cute," I said, smiling and patting the heavy material now covering her ass.

She sort of groaned. "I'm sorry I need them," she said and I chuckled.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I said, "your body worked hard, brought six people into the world, and suffered some damage. I don't love it any less because of that little problem."

She giggled and threw her arms around my neck, pulling me down for a kiss.

"Nowwwwww," I said, "let's get you dressed so we can get some breakfast. I'm starved."

We both laughed when my stomach growled on cue.

"Well," she said, going to her chest of drawers, "let's see."

She pulled out one of those industrial-strength bras and I covered her hand.

"You don't need to put that on," I said and she looked up at me, eyes big.

"David," she said but I cut her off by lifting her breasts, heavy, soft, and warm.

"Is that comfortable?" I asked.

I could see her think for a moment.

"No," she said, at last, giving the same answer I had expected.

"Then put it back," I said, holding her eyes.

We stook like that, a little tableau, my hand covering hers that held that bra.

"David," she said, "I'm not exactly perky."

I laughed and used my free hand to lift and drop with an audible little slapping sound.

"No," I said, "but they're beautiful. A woman's, not a girl's. Why hide them?"

Once again the tableau held for a few moments but I won when she put the bra back in the drawer and closed it with a firm push.

She looked up at me, almost defiant, and said, "okay buster, you pick out what I wear."

"Well," I said, "let's see whatcha got."

She opened the big closet with its sliding doors.

I fingered my way through dresses and blouses and skirts.

"Ohhhhhhhh yeah," I said, lifting out slacks and blouse combination. The pants were a bright blue with a lot of material in them. The blouse was a pullover with long sleeves and a scooped neck.

I looked at her meager shoe selection and got out a pair of black pumps.

Her eyes were, well, "speculative" is a good word, as she looked at what I had chosen.

"A bit overdressed for breakfast, don't you think?" she said.

I smiled and kissed her and said, "I intend to show you off."

She smiled at that.

"Makeup?" I asked.

She took my hand and led me into the bathroom, pulled out a drawer I hadn't been into yet.

I looked around and said "stay put," and went searching for a chair. In her spare bedroom that obviously served as an office I found a reasonably sturdy chair and took it back into the bathroom where, I was pleased to see, she stood exactly where I had left her.

"Sit," I said.

I found her blow dryer and brush and started drying her hair, fluffing it with the brush as I went. When I was done she had a cap of white hair framing her face nicely. "You should go back to your natural red," I whispered in her ear, making her giggle.

She was obviously enjoying the attention.

One thing a good gigolo learns is how to pamper his women and that's what I was doing now. I took my time, a little light base, some blush. Very blue eyeshadow followed by black eyeliner with little points at the corner of her eyes to give her a slightly exotic look. She had good skin and I'm very good at makeup. I finished with the reddest lipstick she had, carefully outlined very carefully, and then finished with gloss.

I had her back to the mirror as I did all of this and when I was done I offered my hand, helped her stand, and turned her.

Her eyes got big.

"You're beautiful," I said softly.

"Right now," she said, staring, "I can believe you."

"Good," I said, nuzzling her neck but careful to not mess up our handiwork.

I helped her dress and then stood before her, naked.

"You're beautiful," I said again.

She reached out and brushed her fingertips across my belly, low.

"Can I ask you," she started and kind of wound down.

"Anything," I said.

"Ummmmmmmmm," and a blush crept across her cheeks, "why are you so smooth."

I chuckled. I had expected that question earlier.

"How about I tell you all about it over breakfast?" I said, and she smiled and nodded.

I went through my duffel, found clean shorts, and, as the old Kris Kristofferson song goes, "my cleanest dirty shirt." I dressed in the same khakis from last night, fresh socks, and held out my hand.

It was about a quarter to nine by the clock as we started out the door, I figured the best time to demonstrate my new status to her peers.

"Your town," I said, "walk or drive?"

She thought, standing in that odd posture women who are used to wearing a bra stand when they don't have one on, her shoulders a little hunched, arms close to her body and slightly forward, keeping her boobs from swaying too much.

Then she broke into a big grin.

"It's only a couple of blocks. Let's walk. I can't wait to show you off," she said.

I laughed, took her hand, and said, "okay, but one correction. I'm the one doing the showing off."

She giggled and pointed and we set off walking.