porpoise in right up it's dorsal fin.
"In
bed," he admitted.
I turned the
statue upside down so that it could nibble at my g-spot, arching my back to
help it along.
"And
where is your wife?" I asked with freshly gasped breath.
"She's
laying next to me asleep," he replied with a hint of curiosity,
"Why?"
I grasped
the tail of the porpoise and push down and away to give it the best possible
angle at my long lost treasure.
"Oh,
fuck," I moaned, "how does she sleep through all your bullshit?"
"She
wears earplugs," he said "But this isn't bullshit. It's a buyer's
market out there."
The porpoise
nuzzled an open chest of priceless gold doubloons, stirring them back and forth
in the deep, warm current.
"Norm,"
I moaned, "Is your hand on your cock right now?"
"Jesus,
what is your problem?"
"Well,
since you asked, I have a porpoise sculpture in my tight, pink cunt," I
revealed without an ounce of embarrassment, "And I'd really appreciate it
if you would reciprocate by at least wrapping your hand around your own
fucktool."
He said
nothing. In fact, he actually seemed to stop breathing.
"Are
you hearing me?" I asked between gasps.
"Yes,"
he confirmed.
"Are
you stroking your cock?"
Hesitation,
then, "Yes."
"Oh
fuck!" I exclaimed in full voice, "Now this is what I call meeting in
the middle!"
The porpoise
dug deeper into the treasure chest, plucking the best coins from the pile,
one-by-one.
"How
hard is your cock?" I asked.
"Hard,"
he said.
"How
hard?" I gasped.
"Hard.
It's very hard," he explained.
"Goddammit
Norman, how hard is your fucking cock right now?!" I demanded.
"Hard
enough to fuck you with," he whispered.
"Then
fuck me, Norman, show me what a dirty girl I am," I begged, "Are you
fucking me, Norman?"
"Yes,
I'm fucking your vagina," he quietly informed me, "I mean your tight,
wet…pussy."
His
breathing intensified and I could hear the faint squeak of his bed. The
dolphin buried its head deep in the treasure chest, flipping it over on its
side and sending the coins spraying across the ocean floor.
"I'm
coming Norman," I screamed through gritted teeth, "Your making my
pussy cum with that big, fat cock of yours."
I leaned
back and pulled my legs up as waves of fresh ocean spray landed on the glass
coffee table.
"I
think I'm about to shoot it, Lauren," he whispered, "Yes, I'm going
to shoot my penis in you now."
"Your
cock," Norm, "Your fuckstick."
"I'm
going to shoot my cock in you," he said.
"Aim
for that counter-offer," I ordered.
"What?"
he said, gasping for air.
"Just
do it. I know you have it right in front of you. Plaster that pathetic offer
with your white, hot come."
"Okay,"
he said.
His
convulsions were painfully intense, yet barely audible. I imagined his
beat-red face as he quietly hummed in ecstasy even as he destroyed his own
contract. I waited for the humming to die down, becoming a single exhale.
"Feel
better, Norman?" I asked, carefully removing the porpoise from its pink
playground.
"Yes,"
he answered, sounding half asleep already.
"Good,"
I said, "Now get me a new offer by tomorrow. And do better."
"Okay,"
he whispered before the phone went dead.
Chapter 3
When my
alarm sounded at 6 a.m. the following morning, I scrambled for the snooze
button, rolled over, and cringed. That really happened yesterday. All of
that! Had I lost my fucking mind? I was raised Catholic for Christ's sake.
As I dressed
for work, I told myself that this--whatever this was--must end today. I was
clearly in over my head. Even my sluttiest girlfriends back in college didn’t
talk about entertaining mystery men with panty fetishes or phone-fucking
married real estate agents.
There would
be no afternoon coffee break today. That much was sure.
I even
considered calling my lake property client with Norm Larson's counter-offer.
After all he was right, it was a buyer's
market out there. Of course that would most likely require a follow-up call to
Norm, himself, which I didn’t even