He'd met the divorcee while he was driving his route one day. She'd sat in the seat directly behind the driver's seat and he started up a casual conversation. She got on at the same stop the next day and the next and within a week they were making it with hot urgency. His own wife was still hotter and juicier and fighter – hell, Linda was only twenty-two and if she didn't have it every night she almost had a nervous breakdown – but big-breasted, ripe-assed Sally wasn't a slouch in the sack, either.

The divorcee's fiery slit was battering his cock relentlessly now as Sally exploded with another shuddering climax. Whimpers of lust came from her throat and her nails raked over his shoulders in a mad dance.

And just as Mike's load was on the verge of bursting the phone jarred. He reached for it.

"Shut-up, for Chrissake!" he snapped at Sally, who was moaning and panting like a delirious nympho. "Freeze, Goddammit!"

Sobbing, she stopped jerking her hips and buried her mouth against the pillow beneath him. Mike answered the phone.

"Yeah?"

"It's me, hon," Linda's voice said. "Listen, I'm going to be late so don't wait up for me, Mike. There's a shortage in the register, a big one, and the owner wants to talk to everyone. I'll probably be at least an hour. Sorry, Mike."

"That's okay, Linda," he said, sighing with relief. "Fact is, I'm a little beat tonight, anyway." He seized a handful of Sally's succulent hot ass and squeezed. "But I'll dream about you, baby."

"Same here, Mike." Her voice grew husky. "Maybe you can make it up to me in the morning before you go to work, okay, stud?"

"Count on it," he said, hanging up the phone. By morning, his loyal prick would rise to the occasion with ease.

"Hey, Sally, you can ease up a little," he told the redhead, slapping her ass playfully. "She won't be home for at least another hour."