Sex for Money, Rent, & Food Ch. 07

Malcolm eased the big Chrysler off Larry's street and continued west until he hit the entrance ramp to the highway. Driving faster than everyone else around him, his idea of merging with traffic was to launch his car off the on ramp as if his big Chrysler was a race car reentering the track on the restart of race. When he planted his size 16 shoe on the gas pedal, with a roar, a howl, a shake, and a shudder, the car zoomed forward turning from a sedate luxury cruiser to a powerful muscle car. The torque from the big engine pushed and pinned June back in her seat until Malcolm hit a cruising speed of 100 mph. Never had she experienced such a feeling of excited exhilaration since the time she rode the big rollercoaster at the county fair.

Inspired by the speed and Hemi power of Malcolm's car, she imagined him picking her up in his big arms and carrying her to bed. She imagined him feeling her breasts through her blouse and bra and feeling her ass through her skirt and panty before undressing her and stripping off her clothes. Taking his time to arouse her and to seduce her, instead of understanding that she was a call girl with her John, she imagined him being her big, bad boy lover.

Taking his sweet time to unbutton her blouse, she imagined him feeling her tits and fingering her nipples through her bra. She imagined his big, black hand going up her short tartan skirt and his big, thick fingers pushing aside her white, thong panty to rub and tickle her clit before penetrating her pussy. Unsnapping her front snapping bra as if her breasts were his surprise gift, she imagined him staring at her C cup tits before reaching out his enormous hands to touch them, feel them, caress them, and suck them. Arousing herself with her own imagination, she couldn't wait until he stripped her naked.

Her sexual fantasy of being stripped naked and being taken by such a powerful man made her knees weak with sexual anticipation. She felt the same rush thinking about him making love to her as she did when he floored the accelerator. With all the weight of his big, black, beautiful, naked body pushing her down and pinning her into the mattress, she imagined him having his wicked way with her naked body and forcing her to do dirty and nasty things that she'd never do to another man.

'Fuck me, Malcolm, stick that big, hard, black cock in my warm, wet pussy,' she imagined saying as he drove in silence.

She wondered what it would be like to have sex with a man so big, so strong, and so powerful when he pounded her pussy and parted her clam with the long, hard thrusts of his big muscled hips. With mixed emotions of nervousness and excitement, imagining giving reversed birth to a baby, she imagined his supersized cock parting her shaved, pussy lips and penetrating her cunt deeper than any man has gone before. Sitting beside the best and not wanting to fuck any of the rest, she imagined she was about to get the fucking of her life.

She wondered what it would be like to take his big, black prick past her red, full lips. She imagined sucking him and taking him deeper in her mouth and all the way down her throat in an attempt to deep throat him. She imagined his warm, oozy cum splashing up against the back of her mouth. Between his big cock and his load of cum nearly gagging her, she imagined being proud that she could sexually satisfy such a man. She wondered how many other women have had the erotic pleasure and sexual satisfaction of bedding such a supersized man. Before even having sex with him, never has she had such sexual thoughts of erotic excitement about a man before.

As if she was sitting on a giant vibrator, the rumble of the car's exhaust penetrated the car seat and tickled her between her legs. She ran her fingers along the stitching detail of the fancy interior as if she was running her fingers along the length of his cock. The safety and security of being with Malcolm made her swoon in his company and she rested her head against the headrest hoping that he'd stop the car soon and kiss her, touch her, feel her, and make love to her. Never has she wanted to suck anyone's cock in the way she wanted to blow Malcolm now.

What a man? What a man? He was such an incredible man. Feeling as if he was her super He-Man, never has she felt as protected with her husband, John, as she did with Malcolm. John was just a little taller than average, but Malcolm was a giant. Glad they were sitting down in his car, he was so tall that, even with her 5'9" height, she had a stiff neck gazing up at him when standing.

Where before, she felt dirty and as if she was doing something wrong when Larry asked her to be his prostitute, now she felt wickedly hot. Feeling wanted, feeling desired, and feeling sexy, never has she felt so much like a woman when in the company of such a man. He made her feel feminine. He made her feel special. He made her feel alive with sexual excitement.

He was a real man, a manly man, a macho man, and a man who'd take care of her no matter what. Instead of her making all the decisions and doing all the worrying, as she's done her whole marriage, she liked the feeling that she could relinquish the control finally to someone stronger and smarter while trusting that he wouldn't make mistakes and fuck it all up. Even if it meant having sex with him, she exhaled a big sigh of relief and relaxed. Especially if it meant having sex with him, she exhaled an excited smile. Only she knew her joy wouldn't last and tomorrow he'd be gone and she'd be back to her little life with her three kids and with Larry pimping her out to someone else.

"I love your car, Malcolm. Big, black, and powerful, it's so you," she said looking at him with stars in her eyes in the way she'd look at a celebrity, if meeting one in person, and in the way she thought he'd be looking at her.

"Thank you," he said more ready to talk about his car than about having sex with her. "I have a new car on order, a Cadillac CTS-V."

"I never heard of that model."

"A two door coupe instead of a four door sedan, it does everything that this car does only it accelerates faster, stops quicker, and turns better. Think of it as a Corvette with a Cadillac body," he said with a chuckle. "I'm a sucker for big, heavy American cars. I love the safety of them, the spacious interiors, and the power they have."

"I can't imagine a car better than this car," said June running her hand over the seat. "I love this car. It's beautiful."

They whizzed past hotel after hotel and motel after motel. With the approach of each motor inn, wondering where he was going and when he was going to stop, she imagined stopping at this one or at that one and doing whatever was his sexual pleasure. Nervous before meeting him, frightened if only by his name, Mr. X and by the sheer size of him, she'd do anything Malcolm asked of her now. She liked him. She really did.

She enjoyed being in his company. He made her feel so safe. Instead of stopping, he drove her a few towns over to a favorite takeout chicken place he knew not far from where he lived. Oxymoronic in his liking for chicken, an educated, wealthy, black man, who could afford any fancy restaurant and navigate any French or Italian menu, he still saved a special fondness for the comfort food of his youth.

"I hope you like fried chicken because if you do, you're in for a treat."

"Who doesn't like fried chicken? With three kids to feed and a healthy serving of protein, it's a cheap staple in my house," she said with a laugh as he parked his car in front of the restaurant. "Do you trust me to order for you?"

"Sure," she said more interested in sucking his hard cock than in eating a crispy thigh.

He left her sitting in the car while he walked to the stand, ordered the food, and brought it back to the car to eat. He was already munching on a piece of chicken as he approached the car and handed her the bag of food.

"Sorry, I couldn't wait. I'm hungry," he said with a big laugh.

"I can't say that I blame you. It smells so good."

As if he was holding a petite appetizer, the drumstick looked so tiny in his big hand. After watching Malcolm eat, she suspected that food was a sexual experience for him. If he devoured her in the way he devoured his chicken, watching him suck on the bone in the way that she couldn't wait to suck on his boner, she'd be a happy woman.

"Whenever I think about sex, I become hungry and whenever I'm hungry I think of fried chicken," he said with a laugh. "My Mama made the best fried chicken, but this place, Flossie's Fried Chicken, is a close second. The batter is so tasty and sweet on the outside and the chicken is so moist and tender on the inside. The combination of the two textures and flavors make me want to eat more. Even when I'm done, I crave it in the way that I crave Chinese food."

June suspected that once Malcolm finished eating his food that he'd be thinking more about sex and about eating her than about eating chicken. With his belly full of chicken, she assumed his cock would be hungry for her. Discovering more about the man from just this brief repartee that revealed his preferences, if only for food, sex, and cars, seemingly, sex, food, and cars, not necessarily in that order, were his deliciously decadent pleasures and unified in his mind.

She could tell by the size of the big bulge in his pants that he was as horny as he was hungry. Kinky in a way, she was glad that he was unable to separate the two appetites. She imagined herself in bed and her naked body covered with fried chicken. She imagined him eating his food while devouring her body.

Instead of eating there in a public parking lot with other people sitting in their cars enjoying their takeout food, he drove to a secluded spot he knew. At that point, with no motels and hotels in sight, she figured they'd be having sex in the car. Kinky. She hasn't had sex in a car since Drive-in movie night with her husband so very many years ago. Once parked at the private place, Malcolm invited June to join him in the backseat.

"Why don't we get more comfortable back here. With the seat all the way up, I can stretch out my legs," he said unbuckling belt and unbuttoning his pants to get more comfortable.

She had assumed correctly and figured with him unbuckling his pants that this was it and that they were about to have sex in the backseat. Maybe his thing was to combine his loves, fast, powerful, luxury cars, fried chicken, and sex with a call girl. Suspecting his car was his sexual phallic symbol, as if he needed to have one, she figured his car was more than a sex symbol for him but a rolling motel bed. Only, now, she wished he had a roomy RV than a cramped Chrysler.

Maybe she'd have more room if he stuck his long legs out the passenger side window while she leaned over him and sucked his cock but that would be a strange sight to see. Maybe he could stand outside the car, while she sat inside the car and blew him. Nonetheless, she was ready to give him pleasure and to satisfy his every sexual need, whatever it may be. She wanted to keep him as a client and that meant sexually satisfying him for him to return.

Not since her husband, John, had his way with her at the Drive-in movie so long ago, before children, mortgage payments, unemployment, and drunkenness, had she contemplated having sex in the backseat of a car. Back then, he had an old beat up, '70 Mach 1 Mustang that had a backseat more cramped than the front seat and she swore never again. At least the Chrysler had a lot more room than the Mustang but with Malcolm's big body taking up most of the interior, the not enough space inside was just as tight. Wondering how on Earth he could be comfortable enough to have sex, she remembered she had a leg cramp that wouldn't subside for fifteen minutes. Her leg was sore for hours.

Having sex in the car was for young couples who had nowhere else to go. Now, even though he had options and could afford a motel or hotel room, the thought of having sex in the car sexually excited her. Again, she felt dangerously wicked having sex in public. She felt sexy. She felt wanted. She was aroused and she was eager to please him.

"Without the steering wheel and the console in the way, there's more room to spread out in back," he said. She sensed his nervousness. That was cute that she made such a big man nervous. "See?" He reached around the seat to push the power seat button that moved the seat. "Especially with the front seats moved all the way forward, there's more legroom and I like having lots of legroom," he said stretching out his long legs.

"That fried chicken was good, Malcolm, nearly as good as my fried chicken," she said wiping the last bit of grease from her lips and fingers.

"Oh, yeah?" He looked at her and smiled. "Then, you'll have to invite me over to dinner some time and make me some."

"I'd love to do have you over some time, so long as you don't mind eating with three kids."

"I love kids."

"Do you have any kids, Malcolm?"

"No. Lucille had a few miscarriages. She has a lot of health problems because of her weight, the usual things, high blood pressure and diabetes. I told her that she's going to die unless she slims down some." He rubbed his big stomach. "Me? I'm lucky. Because I get plenty of exercise riding my bike and pumping my iron, my metabolism works overtime. I'm as healthy as a horse."

"I'm sorry to hear Lucille's not able to have children. You'd make a good father."

"I would. I wish I had a son or two, even a daughter would be nice. I donate my time and money to some of the youth groups in the neighborhood. We have a football and a basketball team that I coach. Too many kids don't have a father figure to look up to and many of their mothers are children themselves. They look up to me and even though I find that rewarding, I'm pressured to show them the right example."

"You're a good man, Malcolm," said June while wondering when he was going to kiss and touch her or if he wanted her to kiss and touch him first.

"Even though many of their single moms literally throw themselves at me, I can't imagine their disappointment in me if they knew that I frequented prostitutes. Besides, different than having sex with a prostitute, I'd never cheat on Lucille with one of the women from my neighborhood. She be devastated."

He fell silent again while eating and June sense something was wrong.

"You're so quiet. What's wrong, Malcolm?"

"Oh, nothing," he said falling quiet again while eating his chicken and longingly looking out his car window. "I was just thinking that if Lucille hadn't been gangbanged maybe I'd be sitting here with her instead of with you." He looked at her, as if he had just insulted her. "No offense."

"None taken," said June. "I understand. I feel the same way about my husband. He's not the same man that I fell in love with and married. He's someone else, someone different, and someone that I've grown to despise. I still can't believe he fucked my mother. I still can't believe my mother sucked his cock. Both of them deserve one another."

"I guess we have that in common," he said with sadness. "Just as you miss your the man that you married, I miss the woman that I married and the woman that I still love." As if he was remembering the good times, he stopped talking, no doubt, when he started recalling the bad times. "We used to have so much fun walking while talking. Talking about everything and laughing over nothing, she gave me memories that I'll never forget."

"There's help out there for her, Malcolm, especially for someone with your money," said June looking at him with understanding. She paused while wondering if she knew him well enough to ask the next question. "How big is she?"

"She's big. Like me, she's always been a big, boned woman, 6' tall with double D breasts but not as big as she is now. With her being so depressed, I don't remember the last time she laughed. I wish I could get her to see someone and talk to someone but, content to eat herself to death, she won't go."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm," said June.

She remembered Larry telling her about guys like Malcolm, content to just sit and talk instead of wanting to have sex. Yet, she never pegged him for one of those men. She figured he was a wild, sexual animal and not much of a talker. Nonetheless, being that she was being paid for her time, as if he was her patient and she was his therapist, she'd listen to whatever he had to say.

"I'm full, Malcolm. Here," she said pushing the tray of chicken towards him. "You eat the rest." Having an ulterior motive, she was hoping that if she seduced his appetite with food, he'd be hungry for sex.

"Fried chicken is my favorite," he said reaching for another piece. As if he was munching on a Chinese fortune cookie instead of a chicken drumstick, the chicken looked so ridiculously small in his big hand. "Most of my friends love barbeque or that sushi shit, but I could eat fried chicken every day, all day, and not get tired it. If ever I was on death row and asked what I wanted for my last meal, I'd tell them fried chicken," he said with a laugh.

The food seemed to have a narcotic effect on him and instead of becoming horny, he grew silent while pondering his thoughts over another drumstick.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said as she rubbed his massively muscular thigh.

"I was just wondering why I love fried chicken so much," he said waving a clean drumstick bone in his hand. "I think my love for chicken stems from my childhood. I grew up poor and my parents had 5 children to feed. Probably because chicken was so cheap back then, the only time I got enough food was when my Momma made fried chicken." He laughed. "She made three heaping plates of it. While my sister fought over vegetables after my Daddy had his fill, I'd be fighting my three brothers for the extra pieces of chicken." He laughed again. "With my brothers nearly as big as me, there weren't any leftovers at our house."

"Wow, I can't imagine your brothers as big as you."

"You can say that I come from a big family literally and figuratively," he said with a chuckle. "You won't find any of us driving one of those little, foreign cars, that's for sure."

It was apparent from the conversation that they liked one another and, instead of becoming lovers, they were quickly becoming friends. As soon as June finished eating, she put down her soft drink, pulled out lipstick from her purse, and thickly reapplied her lips. She tried finding her open purse in the dark car to tuck away her lipstick, but missed.

"Shit, I dropped my lipstick somewhere between the seat cushion," she said daintily sticking her manicured nails between the top and bottom cushion.

"Don't worry about it, I'll find it for you later. These seats fold down; it's probably in the trunk."

She reached her finger over to Malcolm's ear and started seductively playing with it, touching his ear lopes, circling his ear with her index finger, and sticking her finger inside his ear.

"So, tell me, Malcolm," she said in her sexiest voice. Since you paid Larry twenty-five hundred dollars to be with me, what I can do for you?" She allowed her hand to fall on his oak sized thigh again and rested her fingertips on his crotch. "What do you want? What do you like?"

"I guess because I'm lonely and love to talk, I rather just talk," he said looking at her as if sorry for confessing that he was lonely. "Imagine someone like me, who can have just about anyone, pining over his wife and being lonely."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm. We can talk if that's what you want and what will make you feel better," she said removing her fingers from his ear and her hand from his thigh.

"Talking is what does it for me, baby," he said looking at her with a big smile. He took her hand and put it on his crotch and rubbed her palm against the big bulge in his pants. "Some call it pillow talk, but more than pillow talk especially when continued out of the bedroom, in the kitchen, the living room, outside, and in the car, I call it arousing erotic conversation. Talking is what it's all about. Dirty talk fills my mind with images that I can take away with me after the sex is over. Sexy talk filled with dirty words and actions is so cerebrally sexy."