After a few moments, the man blinked his eyes and looked quickly behind himself. He seemed nervous, like a man who'd just awakened from a trance and had discovered that he'd murdered somebody in a fit of temporary insanity. He glanced at his watch.

"Gotta be going," he said. "Late? Way behind schedule! Way behind schedule!" He stuffed the shoes back in his suitcase, forced the suitcase shut, and stood up. His cock, dripping with cum, dangled from his open fly, and he stuffed it back in his pants as hastily as he'd stuffed the shoes into the suitcase? He lugged the suitcase to his car, wiping Cindy's cuntjuice off his mouth on the way. Without a word to Cindy, he started his car, spun his tires as he backed up and turned around, then tore off, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

Cindy got down off the porch swing and inspected the pool of the man's cum under it. She dipped her fingers in the cum, then raised her hand to her nose and sniffed. The potent aroma made her blink. She couldn't resist tasting the sticky fluid. She found it salty and bittersweet. She couldn't say she was crazy about the taste, and yet, she found her mouth watering for more.

Crouching like a cat, her naked ass up in the air and licked by the sunshine, she lapped up the pool of freshly shot cum. She licked the cum off the swing, too. She smacked her lips and wiped her mouth. As she started to dress, she realized that the salesman had run off with her panties.

CHAPTER THREE

When Jim Sutter arrived home after seeing his ex-wife off on a bus, he was ready to sell the farm, move into town, and take a job in a factory. He feared that things would be unbearable round the farm without his ex-wife around. She may have been a nagging bitch, but she'd been a damned good cook, and at least she made noise around the place and kept things from getting boring.