At Suzie's Whorehouse, out on Route 117. When he was living here, he'd been going there every fucking Wednesday for almost a year before he came home ...o his cold wife. He'd never been laughed at before. It was humiliating.He couldn't figure it out. For more than a month now he'd been putting the wood to Marcy like John Henry drove railroad spikes. All fucking day long, day after day. He felt like he had been reborn, come into his own, his virility greater than when he had been a pimply-faced. Her own hands weakly clutched at the sheets to give her some kind of leverage to push into him. She wanted him as deep inside her as she could manage. Her whole body felt like an explosion of wonderful feelings- nothing had ever felt this good in her life.She yelped when his thumb rubbed her clit. “Don’t hold back, babe,” he groaned when she covered her mouth. “Let those boys hear. Let them know what it sounds like when a real man fucks.”Liz didn’t know how long they went at it. She wasn’t sure. More

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