Date Night

Victor didn't say promptly. So Elizabeth took her time preparing, taking a long bath, shaving her legs and trimming her pussy hair. Her heavy breasts and large aureola bobbed up and down as she fit into a purple bra and matching thong. She frowned at the cellulite that she could still see, but she was getting healthier than she was at the nadir. She didn't wear any hose, but kept the ensemble consistent with a purple dress that plunged low, showcasing her breasts and accentuating her large ass globes. She wasn't wearing any jewelry -- that had been pawned off over the years.

She showed up just before 7:30, and Victor beckoned her over. She'd chosen a soul food place, just a block away from the sketchy motel she'd chosen. And they ordered okra and greens and dark meat and other Southern delicacies.

Victor was right -- he did straddle both worlds. Half of him Elizabeth recognized from her time married to Douglas -- sophisticated, worldly, transactional. Half of him Elizabeth recognized from the intervening years -- dominant and a man who hadn't had the privileges that she had. And most of the people in that restaurant saw her as what she was now -- a ho, a servant, a commodity -- and not the wife and mother and beauty queen she'd been. Only Victor knew about that.

Afterwards, he took her home. It was his right, she felt. He was old, old enough to be her father. He wasn't a strong powerhouse like many of the man he was used to. And his demeanor was closer in some ways to Douglas than to a Lamar. But when she knelt before him in that spartan highrise, her big blue eyes flittered open.

It was long and fat, just as she'd grown accustomed to. She tugged on the large, stiffening shaft leaning down and spitting noisily on it, then starting to suck it.

"Mmm, that's right ... you are a nasty bitch, Miss Castle," Victor said, his eyes closing, an old, gnarled hand finding purchase in her hair. She leaned down, sucking his heavy balls, tugging the thick foreskin back to expose the tip, sucking a droplet of precum off it.

"At your service, Mr. Franks," she responded, batting her blue eyes at him, then closing them as she went into her own happy place, bobbing her mouth up and down his tool, taking it into her throat, tasting his essence, his masculinity. She paused now and then to suck at those heavy, life containing nuts, impressed by the package despite his gaunt from.

"Keep going, Miss Castle. Show me you can serve better," Victor said, genially but the words had an undercurrent of threat. Elizabeth chuckled huskily, her tongue dipping down to brush against his asshole, submitting to him in the basest of fashions before she resumed giving him head. It wasn't long before Victor pulled her up.

He wanted her on top, her wares on display, a thoroughbred at the ready. She faced away from him, her oft-fucked asshole revealed, his thumb toying with it as she rode his large, heavy cock. Her cunt molded around it perfectly, as if it were meant to be.

And to her surprise for an older man, he had stamina. She rode him to multiple orgasms, her brain getting foggy, before finally.

"Oh fuck ... you white fucking bitch ... take it ...." he growled, not bothering to pull out, his seed flooding her already sodden cunt. She panted, collapsing next to him.

"That was ... acceptable," Victor said, praising with a faint damn. "But you must prove yourself as an economic asset, not a liability. If you help me take down Moses ... perhaps you'll be my finest investment yet. But you'll have to prove yourself."

Elizabeth nodded weakly. How he could be so under control boggled her mind. She couldn't even formulate a coherent thought. He was so ... intimidating and fascinating.