For A Good Time Call Lorelei Lee

Pinky Lee drifted down the sidewalk that Sunday, restless in the heat. A torn note on the side of a phone booth caught her eye, neat little digits promising a good time if only she would ring. She stepped into the booth, coin already warm in her fingers. The line clicked once, twice. A low voice answered and her pulse jumped. Three blocks over she found him waiting, tall, calm, already hard when he took her wrist and drew her into the half-lit corridor of his walk-up. Her dress came off in a single motion. He pressed her back against cool plaster, mouth on her throat while his hand slid inside her panties. She was already slick. He dropped to his knees and spread her open with his thumbs, tongue circling once before he licked straight up her cleft like he wanted to taste every drop she had. She came fast, head tilted back, one thigh hooked over his shoulder. When he stood, she had his cock out and stroked it twice, wet palm gliding over the swollen head. He lifted her, gripping the undersides of her thighs, and drove in deep on the first thrust. She bit his shoulder, locked her legs around him, took each heavy stroke until the plaster rattled and she felt the hot spill of him inside. They barely caught their breath before she sank down, mouth on him, tongue flicking through the salty mix on his skin. Her hair swung in time with the hungry suction, and soon he was pushing deeper, coming again across her tongue while she swallowed around him. Afterward the room smelled of sweat and sex. Pinky smiled, cheeks flushed, knees pleasantly weak.