The "better than anyone else" woman (we all know one) meets her match at their 40th class reunion
The fortieth high school class reunion started out on a pleasant note, as far as Don Parker was concerned.
Many of his old friends were there and to his surprise, most of the 'cliques' from Old BHS days had gone by the wayside.
Almost everyone had matured to the point that, rich or poor, black or white, they were all the same age; all getting older; all had interesting tales of the paths their lives had taken.
Don, having come from a large family with not much wealth, had found unexpected success as a novelist.
He began writing before his wife was killed in an auto accident, and continued with the encouragement of his children.
He never considered himself as being very wealthy, but lived a comfortable life on his retirement and royalties... and the $2.5 million insurance settlement from the trucking company that owned the rig involved in the accident.
At the age of 57, he spent one to two hours each day working out; resulting in a toned, muscular body.
His thick hair was a contrast to many of his fellow classmates and the grey highlights made him the most handsome he'd ever been.
Halfway through the Thursday night class gathering, Don was enjoying a watered down scotch when Marge and Pressley made their grand entrance.
Press had inherited a sizeable estate from his father, but he always seemed to be a pleasant guy.
Marge, however, after all these years, still insisted on showing up late so she could convince herself that she was the center of attention.
Her dad had been the newspaper publisher in the small town, and she was always the uppity rich girl... she hadn't changed.
Sure enough, when Marge began speaking to some of the others, she was quick to criticize, "You should wear gold earrings with that outfit; not the fake stuff, either." "Find out what kind of cologne he's wearing, Pressley, and don't ever buy any." "Sorry to her about your cat, Mary. I really don't like cats, anyway."
When she spotted Don, who (now) may be a 'celebrity' she could get close to, she pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring lifelong classmates as she sidled up next to him, "Well, hello there, Don Parker. Do you remember me?"
"Of course I do, Marge, where's Ol' Press? I'd like to see him."
She felt like she had just been given a brush off, but was determined to make points with a 'famous' author, "It's 'Margaret', not Marge. Oh, he's over there somewhere. Don't worry, he'll show up in a minute. He can hardly stand for me to get out of his eyesight. Nice shirt; where'd you get it? Tell me about your latest book. I'm sure you can find a complimentary copy for an old friend, can't you?"
There it was... not another person had asked for a free copy, and some had insisted on paying him; which he didn't accept; but here was the snooty little rich bitch trying to mooch a copy.
As far as being an 'old friend', Marge had said more to him than she had spoken in six years of junior high and high school.
She had never even said 'hi' at any of the previous reunions.
"One thing at a time, girl; first, my late wife picked this shirt up for me a few years ago at Walmart or Target. I can't remember which, but it's comfortable and I like the way it looks. Next, my book is doing well, but not quite as popular as the first two. It's about a set of twins in a haunted house. Last, my agent doesn't let me give away my books. All I have with me are hardback copies with dust jackets. They sell for thirty bucks, but I let my friends have them for twenty," he smiled and winked at her, "Of course, the autograph is worth a hundred times more."
Don had already passed out several signed copies of his latest novel to friends who had been supportive of his efforts, and had been there for him after the loss of his wife, Carly.
"Don't say anything to my agent," he had told each one, "I'm not supposed to hand out freebies. If you hear me telling someone I'll need twenty bucks, please back me up."
Deedee, the evening's hostess, stepped between them with her copy of 'Darkness', "Hello Marge, I overheard that you were asking about one of these. Isn't it amazing that our own Don is such an accomplished writer? Just look at this beauty; and it's only twenty dollars. Maybe you should try to get copies for your kids, too. I did."
Don nearly lost his composure when Marge said she'd have to check with Pressley, first; she never checked with him about anything she wanted.
She made her way to the other side of the large den and he thanked Deedee for the help.
She chuckled, "Believe me, that was the most fun I've ever had around that woman. My parents could have bought her dad's publishing company ten times, but I certainly hope I never was the concieted little shit she was... was I?"
A half hour later, as Don slipped through the sliding glass door onto Deedee's patio, Marge stepped in front of him and asked, quietly, "Just who do you think you are, Don Parker? So you wrote a book or two; I was raised by a journalist and could write a dozen of them each month, if that's what I wanted to do."
She pointed her finger at his face, "Don't make the mistake of pissing me off, Don, I can ruin you. I want a signed copy of that damn book."
Don lowered his voice to keep the other guests from hearing, "YOU can buy a copy for the retail price of thirty dollars, Marge. You just made the mistake of pissing ME off, lady. Or... I could let you have a copy for a good blow job."
Marge's eyes popped open wide and her mouth dropped open.
"Oh, yeah, Marge; your big mouth is just the right size to suck my cock. How about after the class dinner tomorrow night? My motorhome is parked at the fairgrounds... figure out a way to tell Press you'll be gone all night."
Another old friend, Ken, saw the angry woman's attempted swing at Don's face and started to intervene. It was obvious that Marge's effort was avoided, so he sat back in his lawn chair when the angry woman stomped away.
"What was that all about, Don?"
Don chuckled as he replied, "Just putting the snooty little bitch in her place; which isn't near as high as she thinks it is. I may have to deal with a pissed off Pressley, too, but I don't give a shit, Ken. If that one fuckin' woman ruins this whole reunion, I'll see to it that both of them get their asses kicked."
Throughout the rest of the evening, Don noticed Marge staring at him every time he caught her eye.
Evidently, she never said a word to her husband, causing Don to hope for that blow job.
Friday was a fantastic day for the big alumni parade.
All the classmates from Bowden HS class of 1977 met at the fairgrounds for hot dogs and hamburgers before loading on the long trailer for the parade route.
Once again, whenever he looked around his group of friends, Don would spot Marge, glaring directly at him.
Each time, he would grin, wink and taunt her with a quick lick across his lips.
After the parade, Don stood at the edge of the roadway with some friends, pointing at a large RV bus with three slide-outs.
He described the ease of setting up the motorhome, complete with satellite TV, WIFI and satellite phone service.
Sure enough, curiosity got the best of Marge.
When she eased her way into the conversation, she made it plain that the color was tacky and it wouldn't be big enough for her and Pressley.
Her usual attitude caused the others to begin slipping away, except for Don's friend, Ken.
Don asked the two of them if they'd like to see the inside.
"After what you said to me last night?" she responded, "I'd never trust you unless more people are around."
"Hold on for a minute," Don smiled as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket.
"Hi, Lindy," he spoke to the voice on the other end, "Do you girls have clothes on? Heh, heh... well, I have a friend and a curious bitch that want to look at the inside of the bus. I'll give y'all a few minutes."
"What was that all about? And don't you ever call me a bitch."
"It's my driver and my pilot, Marge. They stay with me and take care of my every need... EVERY need, if you know what I mean. They're 28 year old twins; one flies my plane and the other drives the bus. Lindy said to give them a few extra minutes to make up the bed... we only use one. The other one is for guests."
"I told you before, it's MARGARET, not Marge. You have two women in there, but you still want.....," she cut off her question when she remembered Ken standing beside them. He grinned at Don and eased away from the conversation.
Don's phone rang and, after a quick response, he turned to Marge, "Sorry, 'MARGE' Cindy isn't feelin' real well. I'll make sure both of them are out of the way this evening, though; after dinner.
He could almost see steam coming from Marge's full head of curly, brown hair, "Damn you, Don Parker," she mumbled, "I told you I wouldn't go in there alone with you. Nobody's going to be raping me, even if it's in a nice motorhome like that; and I won't be coming later, either. You can just fuck yourself or your whores."
"I'll tell you this one time, MARGE; if I ever hear you call those girls whores again, I'll go back on my word to never hit a woman. I'll knock the living shit out of you; just take your stuck up, sagging ass away from here and, for the record, I've never raped anyone... but don't tempt me, I may decide to change my mind about that, too."
Don called the number again, "Lindy, before you girls leave for Austin, I need you to do one little job for me. You know where the cash is; here's my plan..."
The class dinner was catered by a local barbecue restaurant, owned by another of Don's friends.
Don, quietly, told the man to inform all the other guests that the total expense of the meal, and gratuity, was completely paid for, and the funds that had been collected from the classmates should be donated to a local scholarship fund.
He assured his friend that he's be by on Saturday to settle up.
At 9:35pm, headlights appeared at the far end of the fairgrounds entrance.
Don watched with a grin as the Cadillac pulled up to the bus.
He saw Marge get out; hesitating before she took the few steps and started knocking on the door.
He could almost imagine how torn her mind was when the young man with freckles answered the door, shirtless, "Howdy, Ma'am, can I help ya'?"
She stood far a few seconds before she was able to force out her words, "Uh, is Don here? Don Parker?"
"Don? Naw, I reckon he's over yonder in his Class C. That's the other camper down there," he pointed at a much smaller motorhome, parked about 80 yards down the hill.
Marge was seething when she schreeched to a halt.
She slammed her car door, literally stomped to the door and banged on it, "DON! OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR, DON!!"
When he opened the door, she forced her way past him and chewing him out, thoroughly, "I want to know what in the hell is going on! You said the big motorhome was yours! Now I find you in this dinky one, you lying bastard!"
When he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around, she was shocked to see that his robe had fallen open, "Let's get one fucking thing straight, Marge. Not one Goddam time did I actually TELL you that was my bus.. not once. You assumed that it was mine because you were impressed by it," he pushed her toward the couch, "Get your fucking clothes off!"
The woman was totally in shock.
In all her years not one single person had talked to her like Don was doing.
As she started to object, Don raised his finger to her face, "Here's what's going to happen, Bitch; you take your clothes off or I'll rip the mother-fuckers to shreds. You'll have a hard time explaining that to Press."
He grabbed his hardening cock and waved it in her face, "Then, you're gonna suck my cock and swallow my cum. THAT'S exactly why you came here... EXACTLY! Then I'm gonna fuck you like the whore you are. Make no mistake about it, you're no better than the hookers on the corners of Austin; a twenty dollar whore. You came to sell yourself for a fucking book; nawwww... you just wanted to fuck and suck somebody you thought was an important celebrity. GET YOUR CLOTHES OFF!"
It took all of five seconds for the shaking Marge to present her completely naked body to the man.
She never spoke a word as her questioning gaze fixed on his hard shaft.
All he needed to do was nod his head toward the rod; her open mouth pounced.
Eight glorious minutes later, he uttered the words, "I'm fixin' to cum, Marge; get ready to swallow it all."
Don could tell it wasn't her first rodeo when she would squeeze his cock hard enough to slow the flow, in order for her throat to keep up.
When the last of the sticky juice was inside her stomach, she spent another few minutes licking and cleaning the last, reluctant, drops as they emerged.
Between his late Carly and the twins, this shitty woman had just surpassed all the records for best cocksucker in Texas.
"Now are you satisfied?" Marge's sassy words began to take over, again, "Can I get dressed and get my book, now?"
Don burst with laughter, "You have to be shittin' me, woman. I don't have a clue where you learned to give a head job like that; and to tell you the truth, I don't care. One thing is for sure, though, you ain't goin' anywhere tonight. If you can suck that good, I have to know how you are at fucking."
"That wasn't the deal. You told me last night you'd give me a book for a blowjob. You got your fucking blowjob, asshole. Now, I'll take my book and go back to my own hotel room."
"Naww.. I'm not ready for you to go. I have all six of my books, all ready to be signed, but you won't be leaving until morning. What did you tell Press about tonight?"
She dropped her head and lowered her voice, "I have a college friend in Greenville... I told him I was going to spend the night with her. He jumped at the chance to go drinking with some of his old buddies. I was hoping to stay the night with you in that big, pretty bus... now what do we do?"
Don picked up the slim woman and carried her seven steps to the bed, "First, I'm gonna eat that furry pussy of yours. By the time this night is over, that thing and your asshole are, both, gonna be sore."
She drew his face to hers and kissed him, "Just please be easy with my ass, I've only had it there three times and it's been a while."
He snickered, "Well, I'll be dammed; I never figured ol' Press to do anal."
She smiled... this time it was a genuine smile, not the one she always presented to others, "Who says it was Press?"
Thanks to his daily Cialis, Don was able to perform three more times before daylight.
He failed to cum on one of those, but his rod stayed hard and he had Marge in ecstacy for ten minutes.
She was able to shower and walk without much pain the next morning, but told Don she didn't know if she could wait until the next reunion, "I think I'll invent a brand new friend in Austin. Before all this is over, I'll need your number."
She picked up her bag of books and gave him a quick kiss, "One thing is for sure, I definitely paid for these."
Don dressed and walked to the fancy bus, where he felt a little funny about tapping on the door.
The young man answered with a smile, "Good morning, sir, did you rest as well as I did?"
Don chuckled as he entered his 'home away from home', I didn't rest at all, but it wasn't your bed's fault. Speaking of which, your sheets and towels will need to be laundered. I'll pay you for that inconvenience."
"Pay me? Mister, those beautiful women you sent gave me the two grand for a one night rental of my camper. On top of that, I got to stay in the finest motorhome I've ever seen. I think I can spring for a couple of bucks for laundry. I hope you have a good day, sir."
When the bright red Jeep pulled up to the VFW banquet room parking lot. Don was finishing his conversation with Lindy, "Well, I'm happy that Cindy's feeling better. Thanks for having the Jeep delivered back to town; I found out that we don't even have a cab company here, anymore, and the airport is way too far for this old man to walk. Go ahead and get the plane all checked out, but park it. You two just grab a Uber and meet me in Waco about midnight. McDonalds will be fine. We'll park there overnight and head for Arizona tomorrow morning."
He listened to her for a few seconds, then replied, "Heh, heh... yeah, she got it all last night, but I'll bet I can muster a load for you, later; Bye, bye."