Her hips dug back on their own volition and before she could gather the strength to resist the compelling flame in her belly, she began to rub her palms around her hair-fringed cuntal valley, her fingers gently moving back and forth over her moistening, coral-tinged vaginal lips, and the tide of her passion began to flow over her once again. I must be sick… I can't allow tats… I must stop myself… I…
And then the phone rang.
Lonnie pulled her hand away from her moist, tingling pussy, and not bothering with the robe walked rapidly to the hall desk. She stopped the phone's insistent clamor on its third ring. Roger… maybe it's Roger… "Yes?" she asked hesitantly, hoping to hear her husband's reassuring and familiar voice.
Instead she heard a voice that sounded like coal rattling down a chute, a voice which was all too familiar and anything but reassuring. "Lonnie?"
A cold, clammy creepiness stole along her spine, as if a snake was crawling up her backsides. "What… what do you want?"
"You know who this is?"
"Y-yes," the hapless young mother moaned. "You're Sam. Sam Zeigler."
The voice on the other end chuckled confidently. "That's right, Lonnie-baby, Sam Zeigler. And I wanted to tell you what a pleasant time I had last night. I enjoyed fucking you greatly, I did." Again the lewd snicker, and Lonnie's body chilled as if suddenly plunged in ice. She wanted to hang up and then dress in something big and bulky and warm. "I've been thinking about what fun we had, and I'd like to see you again."