Joan watched intently as the middle-aged, balding man undressed. His stomach was heavy, indicating the good life he had led, and when he was completely naked, she saw that his prick was nothing to set the world on fire with. However, her boss had told her how important the Jefferson account was and Joan, being the good secretary, was determined that her company would get the business.
The man lay down beside her and immediately began kissing her and putting his hands on the important points of her body-her tits, her cunt, her ass. When he shoved his finger into her dry box, Joan flinched. He was too quick and too rough to get her excited, but she played along with him. As he moved his finger around inside her pussy, she feigned moans of passion.
Jefferson gave her little opportunity to prepare herself. Before she had a chance to respond, he was between her legs and shoving his steel-hard cock into her hole. Maintaining the pose of a hot piece, Joan wrapped her legs around his waist and humped to meet his thrusts. He rammed his dick in as far as it would go, which didn't mean a whole lot, and Joan rubbed her crotch against his, making his small prick touch the walls of her snatch.
"Goddam, you're a good piece," Jefferson panted.
You wouldn't know a good piece if you had it, Joan thought to herself as she smiled and continued to hump against his cock. She knew there was no way he could make her come, but had to pretend that he really sent her into a torrent of orgasms.
Pushing her cunt into his crotch and moving it around caused Jefferson to shoot his wad in a matter of minutes. When Joan saw that he was ready to come, she pushed hard against him and let out a low moan, pretending that she was unloading her cunny juice. The man's eyes lit up and she felt his warm fluid coat her twat.
When they were finished, Joan laid her pretty head on the man's flabby stomach and looked at his shrunken, pitiful penis. It was strained and wet from his own semen. He breathed heavily and her head rose and fell as he slowly regained his strength.
Jefferson rubbed his hand across her back and down to her buttocks. Playing first with the cheeks, he moved on to her cunt, which was wet. In view of his physical weakness and flabbiness, Joan was surprised to see his cock beginning to harden again. She put her hand on his balls and played with them, watching as his prick rose even higher.
He put his finger on her cunt and rubbed the lips. Slowly she became aroused and stroked his fuck pole. Soon, she was on her knees with her head over his erect hunk of meat. It was still small and she had no problem taking its entire length in her mouth. The hair at the base of his staff tickled her nose as she slowly, sensually sucked on the rod.
Jefferson fingered her pussy faster and faster as she sucked harder on his dong, played with his nuts, and stroked his shaft while she tongued the head. When he pushed his finger into her vagina as far as it would go and moved it around, Joan hit her first climax. She tightened her shapely legs on his hand as she coated his digit with orgasmic juices.
He continued fingering her while she sucked his cock, drawing him to the shooting-off point. It wasn't long before she was again clamping down with her legs, climaxing right at the time she felt his hot cum paint her throat. She squeezed his pecker, pulling all the jizm from its container, and swallowed hard, not losing a drop.
At least, she thought to herself, he did make me come, although it wasn't the most enjoyable orgasm she had ever experienced.
"You might like to know," Mr. Peterson told her the following day, a look of satisfaction on his face, "that we got the Jefferson account. I don't know what you did to the old man, but whatever it was, it worked."
"Just used my feminine wiles," Joan replied, returning his smile.
Joan Willis had worked for the Peterson Agency for more than two years, beginning as a typist and slowly working her way up to private secretary to Del Peterson, the owner. She had put in a lot of couch time to get to her present position, and her ability as a secretary had held the position once she had reached it.
She was not beyond using her body to attain her goals. Joan was a beautiful girl, dark brown hair, a wonderful body. Any man who had been fortunate enough to sample her wares always walked away with a satisfied feeling in his body-and his prick hanging low. For, Jefferson to the contrary, Joan Willis was a dynamite piece of ass in bed-once she was turned on.
Peterson, himself, had been lucky enough to climb between her legs and feel that joy box of hers. He remembered it every time he looked at her, and his pecker got hard just thinking about it. He envied men such as Jefferson and the others, yet knew that anytime he wanted a piece of pussy from Joan, it was his for the asking.
For Peterson, Joan was a highly successful business investment. Not only was she an extremely efficient secretary, but she was willing to do just about anything for him and the agency to further business. He had often seen clients and other visitors to the office looking her over, and that had been his first clue to using her to help the agency.
Joan had not refused, although she was slightly hesitant in the beginning. When Peterson promised her a nice bonus if the clients were signed, Joan agreed to the owner's proposition. Since she initiated her persuasion techniques, her bank account had increased tremendously.
This is not to say that the Peterson Agency relied on Joan's natural assets to land all its clients. The agency was highly respected in its field of advertising and Joan was called on only occasionally, and then to persuade the most stubborn of customers. So far, her track record was perfect-she had not failed to land a single potential. And, fortunately, there weren't many like Jefferson.
Joan didn't, and couldn't, rely on clients for her sex life. She was too hot-natured for that. Peterson was able to put out her fire every time they went to bed together, but she still needed sex more often than it was available around the office. With a body like hers, though, getting men was no problem.
When Joan had been hired by the agency, the personnel manager at the time was a middle-aged, but well-built man, tall, silver-haired, robust in nature, who had been smitten by her good looks the instant she walked through the door. She wouldn't have had to type, take dictation or anything else as far as he was concerned. She would have been hired immediately.
It was late in the afternoon when Joan arrived at the agency to apply for the job. Bob Carruthers, the personnel manager, filled out all the necessary paperwork and then looked at his watch.
"Miss Willis, it's time to close up. Would you care to have a bite to eat with me so I can tell you about our agency and your new job?"
"You mean, I'm hired?" Joan asked, surprised at the suddenness of his decision.
"Yes. Welcome to the Peterson Agency."
They ate at a quaint restaurant near the office building and talked for a couple of hours-about the agency, about Joan, about what she would be doing in her new job.
"The salary isn't much to start," Bob said, "but there is great potential for an industrious, willing individual."
Carruthers was quick to stress the willing part of his statement, and it wasn't lost on Joan.
"Well," she replied, catching his drift immediately, and aware that he had been looking at her body all the time they had been talking, "I'm willing, and think I can do a good job."
"I'm sure you will, Joan," he said, motioning for the waiter to bring the check. "How about coming up to my apartment for a nightcap?"
Joan's reply, to be sure, was in the affirmative.
Bob's apartment was small but well-decorated, comfortable, and had an expansive view of the city. Once inside, he mixed drinks and they sat on the couch, talking for another hour or so.
"Joan," he said, suddenly turning serious, "I believe I've learned enough about you during these past few hours to be honest with you."
Joan made no reply, looking instead into his deep-set eyes.
"Your job," he continued, "isn't much, as I've told you. But, as I've also said, there is opportunity for advancement, if you're willing to do what is necessary to accomplish that advancement." , "I think I know what you mean," she replied, seeming far from shocked.
"I'm sure you do. You have a lot in your favor-a beautiful face, a good body, and the tests you took today show you have the qualifications. However, to reach the top, your first two assets will get you farther than the third."
"How?" Joan asked, sensing that Bob was trying to help her.
"Del Peterson is Peterson Agency. He founded the firm several years ago on his own and, through his own personality and hard work, has built it up to one of the best in the city. He's shrewd, intelligent and a workhorse; but he also likes to have a good time. That's where you can make your points."
"Continue, Bob," Joan said, becoming more and more interested.
"Del never married, never had time. But, he does like a good ... woman or, I should say, women. However, he's not a bed-hopper. He is very particular about the women he goes with. He is not one to be found down on the strip picking up hookers. You, Joan, are the type he would go for. But let me point out that he won't be thinking about anything serious, so I'm warning you about that ahead of time. To advance, you have to play his game, but don't make the mistake of thinking that if you succeed with him, it will lead to the altar. He's not the type."
"Neither am I. I like men, but I'm in no hurry to get tied down. I'm not in the marrying mood, not in the foreseeable future, anyway."
"Good. I just wanted you to know. Also, it takes more than just a good body to stay with Peterson. Oh, a well-built, willing girl can get through the door, and even into Del's bed. But she will have to have some business sense to stay there. We've had others-good-looking, beautifully built-who didn't last. I don't think you'll have that problem."
"Thanks for the advice, Bob."
"I'm envious, of Peterson, and of the agency," he said, looking at her, glimpsing the smooth skin of her silky legs, the tight blouse with the two large mounds underneath, straining to break through the material.
"Why?" she asked, certain she would be called on to satisfy his desires sometime during her employment.
"I'm leaving Peterson at the end of this week; he knows about it. I've been offered a job in St. Louis. It means a big step for me, assistant manager of an agency there. Del has given me his best and wrote one helluva recommendation to the firm out there.
"But," he continued, not taking his eyes off her, "with you coming in, I'm beginning to regret having to leave. You're about the best I've seen in a long time."
Joan accepted his compliment with a smile. "Well," she said, coyly, "you shouldn't have to leave without sampling your new employee. And I should show my appreciation, shouldn't I?"
Bob placed his glass on the coffee table and put his arm around her. Pulling her to him, he kissed her gently, but hotly, on the mouth. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and explored his teeth, his tongue. His hands roamed her body, softly squeezing the large mounds of tit-flesh, and felt the hard nipples through the material. He slowly rubbed the insides of her thighs, at the same time moving in the direction of heaven.
Joan moaned softly as his hand came closer and closer to her warming pussy and she spread her legs. He cupped her cunt and squeezed. Lifting her hips slightly, she squeezed her legs against his hand. Without breaking the kiss, Bob unbuttoned her blouse and reached inside the bra. When he touched the hard nipple, Joan grabbed the stiff bulge in his pants and squeezed. As the sensual woman unzipped him, his prick jumped out like a coiled spring and she slowly stroked the smooth, long hunk.
Bob kissed Joan on the neck, nibbled at her ear, and moved back to her delicious red lips, all the time busily removing her blouse, bra and skirt. She was just as quick to help him take off his clothes, and soon they were down to where she was clad only in brief, sexy panties and he in shorts.
They continued kissing and petting each other, Joan stroking his prick, he kissing and sucking her tits. He put a hand between her spread-eagle legs and rubbed the hairy mound and pressed her pussy. Joan groaned and shivered in delightful pain, wanting to feel his hard core ramming its way inside her quim. Bob was in agony, too, because her stroking his wand had brought him to the coming point.
"Joan," he gasped, "better hold off on that. I'm about ready to unload."
"Don't waste it," she panted, her hips moving as she squeezed his prong.
Bob pushed her back on the couch, pulled off her panties, and threw them to the floor. After doing the same with his shorts, he positioned himself between her legs. He looked at her dark love cavern and saw that it was wet. She was ready for a good fuck.
Lowering himself slowly, he placed the head of his stiff dick on the waiting lips of her juicy pussy. Pushing gently, the large head opened the luscious labia and slowly inched forward. Joan lifted her hips and moaned as she felt his big hunk of meat rub against the sensitive walls of her snizz. Bob continued pushing until he was all the way in and felt his head against her farthest point.
Bob kept his prick shoved all the way inside Joan and chewed on her nipples. This sent her into orbit and she flung her legs around his waist and humped hard against his granite-hard member. It was so far inside her that she could hardly move it anymore, but it rubbed against her box and she almost unleashed her climax.
"Pull it out partway, Bob, and fuck me." She panted and her hips moved frantically. She had to feel that steel rod riding her walls!
Bob pulled his prick back to where only the glans was inside and slowly pumped. Joan moved her hips to keep pace with him. It felt so good that her head reeled. She pulled his head to her boobs and held him there.
"Bite them, Bob, bite and suck 'em. Fuck me, too, hard. Ram it home and load my twat with your hot cum!"
Bob was so excited that he started pulling his pecker all the way out and ramming it home as hard and as fast as he could. Each time he did, Joan felt as if he was shoving her pussy into her throat.
"Oh, that's good," she murmured. "Bring it all the way in. Fuck me hard, Bob. Make it hurt. Damn, that's good."
"Are ... are you ready ... to come?" he asked, gasping and grunting as he continued to pound his porker deep into her aching gash.
"Yes. Oh, yes. Push it in hard and leave it there. Oh, God, I'm coming. I'm ... coming."
Bob pushed as hard as he could against Joan's box, shoving his manmeat deep into her inferno and flooding the sex cavern with his boiling juice. Their fluids mixed and they sighed as their emotions escaped.
Joan slowly dropped her legs to the sofa, but Bob didn't move. He lay on top of her, the upper part of his body supported by his now-weak elbows, while each of them regained strength.
It had been a good fuck, for both Bob and Joan. Nothing way out, no great technique on either side. Just a good, continuous rubbing of skin on skin, combined with a hot pussy and a hotter prick. They had enjoyed it and were now bathing in the sexual afterglow.
Bob slid off Joan and lay beside her on the narrow couch. Due to the smallness of space, they were pressed close, their warm bodies touching, her tits pushing into his chest, his wet dick against the pubic hair on her mons.
"Joan, I don't think you're going to have any problems at Peterson Agency, or with Del Peterson."
His words were more than a compliment to her; they were also meant to show his appreciation for a damn good piece of ass.
"And your conquests can look forward to a good time in St. Louis, Bob. That, I mean as a compliment to you."
They kissed and then rested.
"Would you like another drink?" Bob asked, rising from the sofa and looking down at Joan's beautiful body.
"Please," she replied. She noticed that his penis, even though at ease, was still something any man could be proud of. She knew it had certainly shown her a memorable time.
They had a couple more drinks and, with Bob sitting on the edge of the couch, they ran their hands over one another's body. Bob enjoyed the touch of her tits, the pink rosebuds that stuck up proud and beautiful, and liked playing with the thick, silky hair at her crotch.
Joan let her fingers travel lightly over his whang, and it wasn't long before it started stiffening once again. She played with his balls sometimes, but thrilled more at the touch of his big cock and the even bigger battering-ram of a head.
When they had reached a sufficient peak, Bob sat on the floor and pulled the lower part of Joan's body off the couch. Placing a slender leg on either side of his head, he tenderly and gently kissed her cunt lips. Joan, her eyes closed, pushed her head back into the couch, moaning and groaning as he kissed and sucked the tasty labia. She was at an awkward angle, with her lower body twisted off the couch while the upper part was straight. But any discomfort she might be feeling was atoned for by the thrills he was sending through every nerve in her body.
Bob was sitting on the floor, his feet pointed toward her head, and Joan dropped a hand off the couch and found his prick. It was hard and she stroked it as best she could, which was difficult in her position.
Bob continued to slowly and deliberately dine on her box. He pushed his tongue into the warm, moist cavern and rubbed the sides. Joan's hips flinched and humped. He pulled his oral finger out and eased off. He slid his tongue over the sensitive lips and Joan grabbed her knockers with one hand, squeezed his prick with the other, and moaned. He was setting her on fire. God, he was burning her up! His tongue was like a hot poker up her pussy, and she could hardly keep from climaxing. But she didn't want to come. He was thrilling her so much, causing everything to be so good, that she didn't want it to end. She squeezed her tit and called on all her feminine abilities to restrain herself. She hoped he would eat her pussy for another hour or so-at least.
Bob was too good, though, and she knew she couldn't last much longer. He ran a finger along her ass crack, then pushed his tongue into her boiling box. Joan humped frantically, moaning and groaning as she did, and almost twisted her breast from her body. She was as hot as a firecracker and knew she would explode any minute.
When Bob shoved his finger into her tight asshole and his oral digit into her cunt, she was beyond the point of no return. She wrapped her legs tightly around his head and, with both hands, pulled him hard against her flaming fuck tunnel. When he felt the warmth flow over his tongue, he lapped at it like a kitten after cream. This excited Joan even more and she humped against his licker and pulled his head even harder into her crotch. Her moans of erotic pain were like music to Bob's ears as he continued to lap her cunt, making Joan reach another orgasm. As her juice leaked out, he tongued her again, causing her to have yet another climax. This time, Joan almost broke her back as she rammed her crotch into his face.
When she finally released her grip on his head and let her body relax, she breathed heavily and was barely able to talk.
"Goddam, Bob, you've drained me! I don't have an ounce of cunt juice left."
"What a lovely way to go dry, though," he said, chuckling.
"You betcha."
How right he was! Boy, her twat felt awfully good. Wet, hot, sticky, and oh, so empty.
Bob didn't speak for several seconds. When he did, though, she knew exactly what he wanted.
"You 're dry, Joan, but I have a problem."
She opened her eyes and turned her head. She saw his stiff cock standing tall and yearning for satisfaction.
"Guess we'll have to take care of that," she grinned, rolling from the sofa onto his body.
Without any further comment, Joan kissed the staff and nibbled at its purple head. Skinning the big hunk of meat, she licked the base of the glans and ran her tongue around the rim. Then, sending chills up his spine, she put his cock in her mouth and went all the way down on it, letting her teeth ride the ridges as she did. Bob cupped her pussy and squeezed. Joan lifted her hips toward him, although she had no thought of coming again, at least, not this soon.
Taking her mouth off his cock, she moved her head to his sac and pulled the balls into her mouth. Doing this, she almost pushed Bob over the edge. He moaned and rammed a finger into her cunt, twisting it around. Joan was building up again and her hips began to move. Bob turned his hand so he could lodge his thumb up her ass at the same time he had another finger in her cunt. He moved both of them in and out of her orifices and she went crazy. She returned to his cock and went all the way down again. Moving her head up and down as fast as she could, she sucked like a champion on each upward movement.
Bob lifted and lowered his hips at a fast pace and fingered her well-juiced snatch and grasping anus even faster. Joan unloaded as he pumped his porker into her mouth, almost shoving it down to her tonsils. He felt the goo on his finger and continued moving both digits in her depths, causing her to have another orgasm.
With her teeth riding the ridges of his prick and her squeezing of his balls Bob could hold back no longer. He rammed his cock deep into her throat and fired his load. When Joan felt the hot liquid paint her oral cavern, she swallowed hard and cupped his testicles tightly. Starting at the base of his prick, she squeezed the staff and slowly raised her head, sucking deeply and draining each drop of jism he had accumulated. She sucked so hard that it seemed she would pull his nuts out of their sac.
Bob moaned as he continued to finger her asshole and pussy. She wasn't set to come anymore, but he couldn't have cared less. She was putting him in a high orbit and he was unaware of anything, except the sensations she was causing within his body.
Del Peterson is in for one helluva time with this woman, Bob realized inwardly. She'll treat him as no other woman ever did before.
CHAPTER TWO
Joan reported to her new job the following day, and Bob Carruthers escorted her to the office where she would be working. Bob and Joan were unable to get together and she never saw him after that day.
The next few months found Joan rapidly progressing up the agency ladder. At no time during this period did she have to use her body for a promotion. She had been put in each ascending position solely because of her work. A year later, she was one step below Peterson's private secretary and was working in the office next to the boss of the agency.
Joan had been told about the private-secretary position-high-paying, fringe benefits and the envy of every girl in the agency. She had also heard through the grapevine that the present secretary was leaving and that the boss was looking for a replacement. Joan wanted the job but didn't want to press too much for it. Nor did she think it wise to deliberately flaunt her body in front of Del Peterson.
She knew he had seen her when he was passing through her office. She also knew that he had never missed the opportunity to take a long gander at her. Joan figured that, maybe, with the right break, she might land the job. She would know something soon because she understood the current secretary would be leaving in a few weeks.
One day, while she was busily working on some reports, her supervisor told her that Mr. Peterson wanted to see her in his office. This is it, she thought to herself. She felt certain it was about the departing secretary's job. Joan was glad she had worn the close-fitting clothes she had on. While the sweater and skirt revealed no bare skin, what was underneath was clearly evident. In fact, when she had come in that morning, she thought her supervisor was going to rape her right on the spot.
When Joan entered the boss's office, Mr. Peterson rose from his chair and came out from behind the desk.
"Hello, Miss Willis. Please, have a seat."
Although Joan had seen Del Peterson almost daily, this was the closest she had been to him and, in actuality, the first time she had heard his voice. It was pleasant, inviting, friendly.
Joan sat in the chair offered, but did so carefully. She didn't want to show too much skin. She wanted to play it cool, at least until she could determine how the interview was going to go.
"Joan, you've probably heard that my private secretary, Mrs. Borgman, is leaving."
"I've heard rumors. Yes, sir."
Peterson chuckled. "With the rumor line we have here in the agency, you probably know more about it than I do."
Joan liked his laugh and she liked the man, as well.
"Well, sir, very little is secret."
"Mrs. Borgman is accompanying her husband on a new job. He's been transferred out-of-state and she'll be leaving in about ten days. I hate to lose her. She's been with me almost five years now, and knows precisely how I operate. But, it can't be helped. So, I'm looking for a new secretary. Would you be interested?"
"Yes, sir. I certainly would."
"I've looked over your file. You've been here a year, your work seems excellent, you've settled in well with the agency, and your supervisors have nothing but good comments regarding your work."
Joan smiled as he looked at her and, for the first time, she noticed that he was looking somewhere other than her face. She felt by then that the interview was turning more to personal contact than to personal ability. She was ready.
Peterson continued for several minutes, telling Joan about the position, what it entailed, and what he expected of her. Although he didn't say it in so many words, the hint was that she might be called on occasionally to entertain clients. His next words caught her by surprise, but didn't really shock her. She had already been alerted by Bob Carruthers of the boss's yen for women.
"I may be taking a chance on losing a good employee, Joan," he said, looking her in the eye, not at her body, "but, before he left, Bob Carruthers told me he had mentioned to you how I feel about certain ... certain employees."
Joan didn't know what to say, but did manage to come back with what she hoped was a good response.
"Yes. Yes, we did talk, about you. He told me exactly what you expect."
"And you still want the job?" Peterson asked, hopefulness in his voice.
"Yes. I still want the job."
Del Peterson sat at his desk for several seconds eyeing Joan-her voluptuous figure, her deep brown eyes. Then, rising from the chair, he walked to the office door and locked it. Joan knew what was to follow.
Turning toward the girl in the chair, he removed his suit coat and vest and laid them across a chair. When he returned to where Joan was sitting, he held out his hands. She placed hers in his and he pulled her up to him.
They kissed long and heatedly. Joan felt his hard core press against her body and pushed against him, slightly moving her hips and rubbing his prick with her crotch. Del massaged her breasts as they kissed and Joan moaned, pressing her body harder against him. He put one hand on her ass and rubbed the sensuous cheeks. Joan felt his prick getting harder and, when she put her hand on it, she found it to be even bigger than Bob Carruthers'.
Breaking the kiss, Del undressed Joan and she returned the gesture. When they were both nude, he looked her over and was more than satisfied with what he saw. She, likewise, was pleased, and from the size of his cock, which was standing straight out from his body, looked forward to some good bed rolls with her new boss.
They embraced again and now Joan could feel his stiff dick even more, and thrilled at the touch of that long, large hunk of meat pressing on her mons. Del massaged her tits and leaned over and sucked on the pink buds. This caused Joan to moan passionately and run her hand over his back, down to his stiff cock, which she gently stroked with her long, delicate fingers. The head was like the tip of a battering ram and smoother than the skin. She could hardly wait to feel it slide into her burning pussy.
Del picked her up and carried her to a couch that was pushed against a far wall. Gently laying her down, he bent over and sucked on her tasty knockers. One of his hands traveled through the soft hair at her triangle and the other massaged her tits. Joan couldn't stay away from his prick and stroked it more. She moved to his nut-sac and played with the balls like they were marbles. When Del put his hand on her moist cunt and pressed, she spread her legs as far as she could on the narrow couch. He put a finger on her cunt lips and slowly pushed into the wet box. She groaned and lifted her hips. She squeezed his testicles gently and stroked his stiff pecker faster.
They were both ready, and Del moved to where he was between her slender legs. He could see the pink lips peeking out between the dark hairs, and his cock practically unloaded right then. Placing the head of his straining prick on the juicy labia, he slowly pushed until it was just inside her vagina. Joan lifted her hips and he inched forward, feeling the warmth of the enclosure and the moisture surround his throbbing hunk of meat. When he was all the way in, he slowly pumped and Joan lifted and lowered her body, keeping time with his thrusts.
She crooked her legs so that her feet were on the calves of his legs, which caused her own gams to spread farther apart, allowing Del room to really penetrate deep into her love cavern. They kissed hotly as they fucked, and the tempo built as they lifted themselves to a crescendo of emotion.
Del pushed himself up on his hands and started really pumping into her. He rammed his cock as hard and as deep as he could, making her groan with passion and pain each time he did. She breathed more heavily now and humped wildly, reveling in the feel of his big prick rubbing against her walls, pounding at the deepest recesses of her snatch, causing her to reach the heights, where climax was but seconds away.
Joan lifted the upper part of her body, raising her large boobs to Del. Seeing the inviting pink tips, he leaned over and chewed and sucked on them, never missing a stroke as he , continued to pound her hot pussy with his steel-hard rod. Joan was lifted to an even higher peak and flung her legs around his waist, pushing her box against his boner, almost yelling out loud as she felt her first climax unload on his meat.
Del could withhold his emotions no longer. He pushed his dick as deep into Joan as he could and painted every inch of her quim with his sticky juice. They kissed passionately as their fluids intermingled and caused her twat to fill up rapidly. She soon felt some of the fluid ooze out between his cock and her cunt lips and trickle down her ass crack.
"Joan," Del said later, as they lay pressed closely together on the small couch, "you're going to do all right, quite all right. I look forward to more meetings like this."
"You're the boss, Mr. Peterson. So, naturally, I have to do as the boss says. Right?"
"Right," he replied, laughing. He liked this girl. "And don't you forget it."
They caressed and kissed again. Joan could feel his prick beginning to stiffen again and pressed her body against him. Seeing that she was ready for another round, he moved from the couch and turned her over on her stomach. Lifting her hips gently, he placed himself between her shapely legs and aimed his dong toward the wet, inviting hole.
Joan hadn't screwed dog-fashion in a long; time and anxiously awaited the feel of his dick heading for home. She loved this position. It allowed the man to push his cock even deeper than in any other position, and just the thought of it sent chills throughout her body. She didn't have to wait long to receive Del's stiff offering.
When he pushed his penis into her quish, she lifted herself to a position on her hands and knees and pushed her body toward him. He put a hand on her hips and shoved his cock in as far as it would go. Joan gurgled with pleasure and pushed even harder against him. It felt like his prick was tickling her tonsils, but damn, it felt sooo good. She almost unleashed her wad then and there.
Once he was all the way in, Del pumped slowly, bringing his prong almost all the way out, then pushing it all the way home, slowly, easily. Reaching around her, he took a tit in each hand and massaged the delectable globes as he pounded away at her super-moist pussy. Each time he hit home with his big fuck-pole, Joan saw stars, and kept pushing against him, wanting to feel his meat even deeper inside her. She was a glutton for punishment, but oh, what delightful punishment!
Moving from her tits, Del massaged her buttocks, then moved to the small anal hole. Collecting some moisture from her pussy, he gently rubbed the opening. His touch set her on fire and she humped against him even harder. Del slowly, gently eased his finger into her anus. Joan inhaled deeply, his action taking her breath away, as he fingered her and pumped his prick deeper and deeper into her flaming pussy. She humped wildly against him.
"Oh, that's good, Del. Screw me harder. Push it in deep!"
Del aimed to please and pounded her box like a sledgehammer hitting a stump. Pulling his prod all the way out, he rammed it home as hard and as fast as he could.
"God, you're tearing me up, Del. That hurts like hell."
He eased off for just a second.
"No, don't," she pleaded, pushing her crotch into his body. "Screw me! Make it hurt! Don't stop!"
Del pushed his finger deep into her shit chute and pounded her pussy, ramming it so hard that his balls and back were beginning to ache. But he was caught up in the heat of the moment and noticed no pain. His cock was feeling pleasure and giving pleasure, so he gave no thought to easing off.
"Are you ready?" he gasped, putting his hands on her hips and shoving his big rod against the far end of her cunt.
"Yes. Yes. Fill my cunt. Let me feel it. Come with me."
If their ecstasy could have been converted into sound, it would have been heard halfway across town. Del rammed his pole home and unloaded, and Joan felt his hot fluid spray against her walls, painting them white, as she unloaded and joined him.
"Uh. Ah. Ooooh. Ah." Grunts of pleasure and relief came from Del's parched throat. He began to feel the ache in his back, but was spurting out his love juice in such an eruption that there was nothing he could do about it.
"Ah. Uh-huh." Joan closed her eyes and had another orgasm. His cock, still hard and big inside her, caused all kinds of sensations as she started to unload again. She had lowered the front part of her body to the couch and cupped a tasty tit in each hand. She squeezed the lovely mounds tightly, thrilling sensually as her floodgate opened.
When they finished, she fell forward, breathing heavily, gasping for air, still cupping her ample boobs. Her entire insides ached from Del's pounding, but it was such a joyous ache that all she could do was smile and bathe in the warm glow of her body.
Del, breathing just as heavily, remained kneeling between her legs. He looked at his drooping dick-wet, purple, the veins straining. He looked at Joan's ass quiver and then at the damp, matted hair between her legs. The cunt lips, coated with his white semen, were deliciously pink and he was tempted to bury his face in them and lick away the moisture of his own essence. But, he would hold that for another day.
After regaining some of his strength, Del finally spoke.
"Joan, I don't think we're going to have any trouble getting along. Do you?"
"Not at all, Mr. Peterson. Not at all."
CHAPTER THREE
As time passed, Joan and Del had several sessions on his office couch. She was always ready whenever he approached and never had an excuse or tried to beg off. She enjoyed their screwing as much as he did and eagerly looked forward to each coupling.
As Del had said during their initial interview, she might be called to "entertain" certain clients and prospective clients. She had done such entertaining, although she was surprised at how little she had had to do. Most firms coming to the Peterson Agency did so because of its reputation, and no other persuasion was usually needed. There were, however, on occasion, clients who had to be coaxed or, as was more often the case, just wanted to climb on top of that attractive, sex-laden secretary the boss had.
"Joan," Del said one day in the office, "a Mr. and Mrs. Rogers will be at the Delray Hotel tonight. They want us to handle the advertising for a new line of lingerie they're going to market, and have asked me to furnish the model. I thought of you."
"Why me, Del? It's been a long time since I've done any modeling."
"I know, but they want to keep their new product a secret. They're afraid that if they approach any of the modeling agencies, word of their new line could be leaked before they're ready for it to hit the market. Something like that could not only hurt future sales, but would also give their competitors an opportunity to jump on the bandwagon. You know how designers are. They work under a bigger cloak of secrecy than the best-organized spy agency."
"I know," Joan said, nodding in agreement. "If you want, I'll be glad to model for them. What time should I be at their hotel?"
"Seven o'clock. I had told them I would bring you over, but I have a meeting and won't be able to make it."
"I wish you could," Joan replied, gazing at her boss.
"Well, don't think I didn't have the same evil intentions in mind. I had planned that after the modeling session, you and I might go to a quiet little restaurant for dinner, then to my place for some more quiet explorations."
The thought of the two of them in his apartment sent a spark of excitement to Joan's womanhood. She squeezed her legs together to relieve the sensation.
"Sounds interesting," she said, a sexy tone to her voice.
"We'll make it another time, Joan. That, I promise. That couch is getting awfully cramped."
They both laughed.
The door to the penthouse apartment at the Delray Hotel was opened by Mr. Rogers, a tall, lanky, fairly good-looking man of forty-five or so. He had a warm, friendly smile and immediately escorted Joan into the room.
His wife, who was standing in the room's center, looked to be about the same age as her husband. She had a strange beauty about her and Joan could well imagine this woman, not too many years back, probably being a beauty queen somewhere. She had an exquisite figure, from what Joan could tell through the rich, beautifully designed robe she was wearing. Her blondish hair was touched with strands of gray, which added to her mystique of attractiveness.
"Laura, this is Miss Willis, Mr. Peterson's secretary."
"Hello, Miss Willis. I'm Laura Rogers. This is my husband, Neil. I understand you've done some modeling in the past."
"Yes, Mrs. Rogers, I...."
"Call me Laura. I detest formality."
"And I'm Neil," her husband interjected. "
Joan smiled. They seemed like a very nice couple and certainly made her feel at ease.
"My name is Joan. As I was saying, I did some modeling for a year or so before going to work for the Peterson Agency."
"I assume," Neil intoned, "that Mr. Peterson told you why we didn't want to go to a professional modeling agency."
"Yes, he did."
"We'll pay the going rate, so it's not a matter of money. It's just that we want to keep our new line a secret as much as possible, until we're ready to market it."
"I understand, and there'll be no need for payment. Consider this a business gesture from the Peterson Agency."
"Well," Laura said, smiling, "if all the agency employees are as cooperative as you, I can see why the firm is so prosperous."
Joan smiled a "thank you."
"All right, let's have a look," Neil said, as he walked around Joan, looking her over from head to foot, in what Joan recognized as a typical designer's professional attitude.
"Very good. Very nice." He muttered the words as he visually measured her figure.
"I think she'll do quite well," Laura added. "Let's see, Joan. I would guess your measurements to be 38-26-37, am I about right?"
Joan nodded, knowing these people were pros at their job and could estimate within a millimeter a girl's statistics.
"Laura," Neil said, his eyes toward his wife, "I think we should begin with the 'Evening Wisp' line. What do you think?"
"I agree," his wife replied, staring intently, but professionally, at their young model. "Come with me, Joan."
Laura led the younger woman to the bedroom and once inside, she opened a closet and Joan was exposed to several nightgowns, all of them beautiful, lacy and silky.
"They're gorgeous," she exclaimed, feeling the material, looking each one over.
"Thank you. We're proud of them. We consider these gowns the best we've ever designed. I have them hung on the rack in the order I would like for you to model them. I'll join Neil in the living room so, when you're ready, you can come out."
There must have been a dozen gowns on the rack and Joan modeled each and every one. The Rogerses were satisfied with her performance and were delighted at the way the gowns looked on her. They told her so and seemed as pleased with Joan as they could have been with any professional model.
"All right, Joan," Laura instructed, "there's only one left, number twelve. Try it on and we'll call it a night."
Joan returned to the bedroom and hung up the gown she had been wearing. Putting on the last one in the closet, she eyed herself in the dresser mirror. It was a sheer, slinky gown that hung in layers. Joan was wearing bra and panties, but they were clearly visible through the material. She didn't think much about it, though, and knew the Rogerses to be professional designers.
She walked into the living room and modeled the gown. She then realized they were keeping her longer in this outfit than they had in any of the others. She also noticed that they had her standing in front of a lamp, which allowed her body to be clearly visible in the light.
"Okay, Joan," Laura said, rising from her chair, "that's it. Thank you, very much. Come and I'll help you undress."
"That's all right, Laura, I...."
"Come on," the older woman said, taking her by the hand. "That's the least I can do after the help you've been to us."
Once they were in the bedroom, Laura slowly undressed Joan, touching the sensitive parts of her body, accidentally, Joan thought to herself, as she removed the sheer, sexy nightgown. When the model was down to panties and bra, Laura took her hands and stood back, looking at the lovely body before her.
"You are beautiful, Joan," she said, her breath growing heavy, her eyes roaming the girl's near-perfect figure.
"Thank you," Joan replied, surprised at how Laura was acting.
Joan started to pull away, but the woman held her tightly. She let one hand go, but held on firmly to the other. With her free hand, Laura gently pressed Joan's tits, then her stomach, stopping just above the crown of pubic hair at her triangle. Joan tried to pull away but was held in place. She was caught completely off-guard by Laura's action and didn't know how to cope with the situation.
Suddenly, Joan felt a touch on her back. Neil had walked into the room, unnoticed by her, and was messing with her bra. Before she knew what was happening, it was off. Her tits, those gorgeous mounds of white, smooth flesh with pink nipples, were free, standing upright, pointing straight at Laura.
"Oh, she's beautiful, Neil. Come here. Look."
Without the slightest bit of embarrassment, Neil walked to where he could look at the bare-chested girl. His eyes were as large as saucers as he stared at Joan's beautiful tits.
"What's this all about?" Joan asked, indignation in her voice. "What are you doing?"
"Well," Laura started, in a calm, almost-soothing voice, "first, Neil is going to fuck you, than I'm going to eat your pussy, then you'll eat mine, and maybe even suck Neil's big, beautiful cock. We'll see what happens from there."
"I'll be damned," Joan replied, sternly. She didn't mind sex, but this was somewhat different from what she was used to.
"Take it easy," Neil said in a voice as calm as his wife's. "Nobody's going to hurt you. We're just going to have a little bed-rolling. Surely you enjoy that. A girl with your figure has had plenty of experience, I know. And you'll enjoy it. We promise. Don't we, Laura?"
His wife didn't answer. Instead, she stepped closer to Joan. When Neil took hold of the girl's hands, Laura stroked the young body, massaged the tits, rubbed between her legs, and kissed her on the neck.
Joan squirmed, trying to free herself from Neil's grasp. It was no use. Before she realized it, though, she had stopped resisting and was standing still, letting Laura perform her magic, a magic that soon had its effect. Joan closed her eyes and began to sway with Laura's touches. Even when Neil released her hands, she did not move. They had her in the mood for screwing, and she had no intention of running away.
Neil led her to the bed and pulled her panties to the floor. He undressed and pushed her back on the bed. Laura had been right-he did have a big cock, and Joan lifted her hips willingly as he rammed it into her warm sexual oven. It felt good sliding in and soon they were humping and pumping wildly, anxious to reach their peak. Just when Joan was on the edge of unloading, Neil slowed down. She humped into him faster, wanting him to fuck her until she climaxed.
"Take it easy," Laura said. Joan had forgotten about Neil's wife even being in the room. "Don't worry, he'll fuck you until you come. Just lie there and feel his prick deep inside you. Enjoy it. He'll start pumping again."
Neil's wife was standing by the bed, naked, and Joan noticed that for a woman in her forties, she was certainly well-built. Her tits sagged, but they were firm, and big, and the light hair around her crotch made her even more enticing. Her stomach was flat and her hips spread just enough to be rather inviting.
Laura leaned over and put a hand on her husband's balls.
"Now, Neil, fuck her until she comes. Make her suffer."
Her husband started pounding so hard that it shoved Joan's body all the way to the headboard of the bed. She had never had anyone ride her that way, not even Del, but it was ex citing. Even when her head hit the end of the bed, she still humped with Neil, letting his prick plow into her bubbling inferno. She grunted loudly, as much in pain as in delight, each time his big dick hit her rearmost wall. But she kept raising her hips for more.
"That's it, Neil," Laura cheered from the sidelines. "Shove it into her! Harder! Harder! Make it hurt! Fuck her for all she's worth!"
That seemed to encourage Neil even more. He pulled his cock all the way out and then rammed it home, hard, unmercifully, battering the inside of Joan's pussy until it must have been black and blue.
"No, don't," Joan pleaded, feeling her innards virtually tear apart as the man continued to plunge his large tool into her box, ripping at the tender walls, pushing everything aside as it rushed deeper and deeper, harder and harder.
"Come on, Joan," Laura encouraged, excitement in her voice. "Fuck with Neil. Hump into him. He's screwing you good now and you should be able to come. Lift those hips. Let him shove it out your mouth. Fuck him, Joan!"
The woman's words sent the younger girl's head spinning. She lifted her hips, which allowed Neil to penetrate her bruised, aching furrow even deeper. It hurt like hell, but felt so good at the same time. Joan was delirious. She wanted him to stop fucking her so hard, yet she had to come! She gritted her teeth, dug her nails into his arms, and raised her body. Just as she did, he was on a downward stroke and his prick hit her insides like an iron rod.
"Oh, my God," Joan cried, digging her nails deeper into Neil's flesh, "you're killing me. Stop. Please, stop."
It was no use. Neil was only encouraged to render her further torture. He continued pushing his battering-ram into her until she almost passed out. Oddly enough, though, when she felt his fuck-juice fill her cavern, stinging as it did, she unloaded. Her floodgate opened and she poured out a gallon of the delicious love juice. She grunted and groaned as she had one climax after another, each hurting more than the one previous.
Neil was still filling her box with cum, and she was joining him in climactic spasms. Tears streamed down her face from the pain, but she couldn't stop having orgasms. Finally, though, she was drained. She released her hold on Neil and collapsed on the bed.
Her cunt felt like it was on fire and she imagined it had been stretched at least six inches. It hurt like hell. When she put her hand on her sex mound, even that was sore from where Neil had been pounding against it.
"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Laura queried, running her fingers across Joan's aching cunt lips, up her stomach and stopping at her tits.
"Yes, it was," Joan gasped, tears still running down her face. "It hurt like hell. My twat feels like it's on fire and I feel like a well-used punching bag inside."
"It'll be okay," Neil said, standing by the bed and staring at his latest conquest. "It does a woman good to have a pounding like that every once in a while. Right, Laura?"
"You bet, honey. You bet."
Joan couldn't imagine Neil riding Laura that way all the time. No woman could put up with that much torture very often.
Seeing the disbelief on the girl's face, Laura spread her own legs and pulled at her cunt.
"Look, Joan."
The aching girl turned and eyed Laura's crotch. The opening to her pussy must have been two or three inches across. She had the biggest cunt that Joan had ever seen.
"It's a biggie, isn't it?" Laura asked, seeing the surprise on Joan's face. "It takes a cock like Neil's to fill it up. And believe me, baby, he does a fantastic job."
Joan couldn't believe what she was seeing, and what was happening to her. She wanted to get up and leave, but didn't know if her body would be willing. She was soon to discover that they had no intention of letting her leave. Not yet.
Laura climbed on the bed, positioned herself between Joan's shapely legs, and buried her face in the girl's sore, delicate cunt.
"No, don't," Joan said, trying to push her away.
Her futile plea was silenced when Neil stepped to the bed and turned her head toward him. His cock was already hard again and that jj big, monstrous pole was only inches from her face.
"No, no...."
Her words were silenced when Neil shoved his wet dick into her mouth and began pumping. Just like when he was fucking her, he had no mercy. He pushed his prick so deep into her throat that she choked, but couldn't cough because of the thickness of his hunk of meat.
Laura was busily eating Joan's pussy, nibbling and sucking on the labia, and ramming her tongue into the flooded love-hole. It didn't take long for Joan to respond to Laura. Soon her hips were moving rapidly, humping against the woman's tormenting oral finger.
Joan was building up quickly, despite that huge hunk going so deeply into her throat that it was choking her. She tried to turn away, but Neil held her in a vise-like grip. Just as she felt his hot fluid paint her tonsils, she unloaded on Laura's tongue and the woman felt it and lapped it up greedily. Laura rammed a finger into Joan's asshole and moved it around. That made Joan climax again and she swallowed hard, trying to keep from choking, as Neil continued to force his cock far into her throat, spilling the last bit of semen left in his storage tank.
When he was finished, he pulled the wet, shrinking rod from her mouth and Joan gasped. She could hardly breathe and Laura was still munching on her box, causing Joan all kinds of hell-but, she came again.
When they finished with her this time, she knew she couldn't move. She felt like someone had thrown a bucket of glue between her legs. The fluid was all over her thighs and had run down her ass cheeks onto the bed. Her face was smeared with Neil's cum and her throat and stomach burned from his jizz-juice.
Joan lay there, her eyes closed, her body aching, breathing heavily, gasping for air. No sooner had she regained some of her strength than she felt the bed give. She opened her eyes to see Laura's big, gaping cunt inches from her face. This time, Joan didn't get the opportunity to voice any degree of defiance. Laura sat down on her face and Joan stuck her tongue in the super-wide sex cavern.
Joan couldn't even feel the opening, the woman's pussy was so huge. But, she wanted to get this over with, so she lapped her as best she could and kissed and sucked her cunt lips. Then, a shudder ran through her body when she felt Neil finger her snizz. Joan tried to shake her head, but with Laura's mammoth box on her, there was little she could do.
Joan closed her eyes and ate out Laura's pussy. Neil continued fingering her, and it wasn't long before her hips were humping into his digit, matching his strokes. Even as sore as her vagina was, and as much as her body ached, he fingered her into another orgasm. When Laura pushed her cunt down hard on Joan's face, the flood that came out washed the girl's tongue, nose, mouth and chin, and then ran down her throat.
By this time, Joan was as limp as a dishrag.
Neil had fingered her into another climax and her snatch ached even more. She was covered from forehead to chin with sex-juice from Laura and Neil; her crotch was one mass of intermingled fluids.
"I'm ready again," Neil said, swinging his big prong at the two women.
"No, please. No. Not again." There was real fear in Joan's voice as she recoiled at the sight of his monstrous pole. Tears came to her eyes and her voice faltered. For the first time in her life, Joan was afraid of a man about to screw her.
"Don't worry," Neil said holding the hunk in his hand and looking at the frightened girl. "I don't think you could take anymore. I'm going to hop my wife and have a truly good fuck. Not that you weren't good, Joan. You were. But, that mate of mine-ah, what a delightful, juicy cunt. You can watch and see how two really horny bastards go at it."
Joan did watch and was amazed at the punishment Laura went through, yet seemed to be totally unaffected by it. In fact, she asked for even rougher treatment.
"Oh, you big, thick, juicy prick," Laura moaned in absolute ecstasy. "Pound in there, you bastard. You haven't even hurt me yet.
Make me scream! Make me yell!"
Neil tried his damnedest, but Laura never once carried on like Joan had. She loved that huge ramrod, and her big pussy gobbled it up and kept asking for more and more. Joan was beginning to feel sorry for Neil, until she thought about how he had just about ruined her own pussy. Then, she was glad to see him get his.
Normally, any woman, especially with a sexual appetite like Joan's, would become so hot she could hardly stand it, watching the way the two lovers were carrying on. But in her condition of aches and pains, she couldn't get the least bit emotionally aroused, even when Laura shoved her buttocks hard against her husband and asked for more.
When the two finally shot their loads, Laura hopped up from the bed as if she had done nothing more than a few push-ups!
Joan thanked her lucky stars she didn't have to put up with Neil every night. One experience was enough. If they ever came to town again, Del Peterson was going to have to take care of them without her.
Joan Willis had had enough!
CHAPTER FOUR
Joan's hard work at the agency paid off and she was soon able to move from the apartment she was occupying to a larger one located in a better section of town. Her new apartment gave her a beautiful view of the lake and the park that surrounded the water. Joan fell in love with the spot the first time she saw it. The place rented for quite a bit more than she had been paying, but she could afford it now, and the view and surroundings made the cost well worth it.
The first time she went to look at the apartment she was shown around by the building manager's wife, a Mrs. Garrison. The woman, who appeared to be in her mid-forties, was neat, attractive in a way and outgoing. When Joan returned to sign the lease, she was met by Bill Garrison, the manager. Bill, also in his mid-forties, was tall, roughly built, more like a heavy-working outdoorsman than a building manager, and while not handsome, did have good looks.
"Miss Willis," Garrison said, as he showed her around the apartment one more time, "I think you'll like it here. It's a quiet neighborhood, and the other tenants keep pretty much to themselves. There are no loud parties and the area is patrolled by a guard employed by the building management. So, you're pretty safe, safer than in most apartment buildings."
"I like it very much, Mr. Garrison," she said, looking around the spacious rooms. "My things will be brought over day after tomorrow. Could you tell the moving people where to put them?"
"I'll be happy to," he replied, not taking his eyes off the full body of the new tenant. "Is there anything else you might like me to do for you?"
Joan turned and looked at him. There seemed to be a deeper meaning to his words than just the intent to be helpful.
"No," she replied, looking him in the eye. "No. Not now. Maybe later."
He smiled at her, and a look of rapt anticipation came across his face. His white teeth shone brightly against the darkness of his skin.
"Anytime-or anything-Miss Willis. Just let me know."
Their bodies briefly touched as he led her out of the apartment. He walked slightly behind her, down the hallway, watching her sexy hips sway gently from side to side. Garrison could see an impression of bra straps through the dress and his mouth watered, just thinking about those two big, luscious melons of flesh underneath the material. He felt like putting his hand on her ass and giving it a squeeze. Garrison was so interested in her body that he bumped into her when she stopped at the elevator.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Wasn't watching where I was going."
"Where were you watching?" Joan asked, smiling, knowing perfectly well what his eyes had been focused on.
"Better not answer that," he said, holding the elevator door for her. "Might get my face slapped."
Joan made no comment. She only grinned. But, it was a smile that held hope for Bill, hope of some enjoyable moments to come.
But that moment wasn't to arrive anytime soon. Joan moved into the apartment that week, but assignments kept her busy for several days. Too, Garrison's wife worked at the apartment building almost as much as her husband did, and was almost always around. One day, however, when his wife was out of town and Joan was home alone, he decided he would make his pitch. All the new tenant could do was slap his face, and he had had that done-plenty of times.
"Just wanted to stop by and see if you got moved in all right," Garrison said, standing in the doorway.
Joan was dressed in a robe, which was belted at the waist, and looked as if she had just gotten out of the shower. The robe was tight-fitting and emphasized her ample tits even more. Bill could see the smooth skin at the top of her breast and wanted to reach out and pull the robe off her, to see if she was naked underneath.
"Everything's fine, Mr. Garrison. I've even straightened out all my stuff and the place is livable."
"Any problems?" he asked, standing there, hoping she would invite him in.
"Nothing so far," she smiled, knowing he was anxious to come into the apartment, and knowing what he wanted. "But," she continued, standing aside, "while you're here you could do me a favor."
"What's that?" he asked, stepping into the room as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
"I have two suitcases that I emptied and they're quite heavy. Could you put them on the top shelf of the closet?"
"Be glad to."
Garrison walked into the bedroom and glanced at the large queen-sized bed pushed against one wall. He hoisted the suitcases and placed them on the high shelf. Quietly closing the closet door, he turned. Joan was standing in the bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame. She had one leg bent and the robe was slightly parted, revealing smooth, white skin from her foot to just inches below where her joy box was to be found.
Garrison felt his prick harden and heat flow into his balls. Damn, she was an invitation to sex if he had ever seen one-and he had seen plenty. Joan's big boobs rose and fell slowly in rhythm with her breathing, and it was all he could do to take his eyes off the spot.
"Miss Willis," he finally spoke, a lustful look on his face, "I wouldn't stand in that position too long. You might get in trouble."
"How would I get in trouble?" she asked, not moving, looking at him with a smile on her face.
For some reason she couldn't explain, this tall, rough-looking man appealed to her. He certainly wasn't the most handsome male she had ever been with, and he was married. Of course, being married didn't bother her, only the fact that his wife was so near. But, she knew Mrs. Garrison was away, and she also knew Bill was interested in her, that he wanted to take her to bed.
"You're quite a hunk of woman, Joan," Bill said, looking over her body.
They had not moved. He was still by the closet, Joan in the doorway.
"I've met Mrs. Garrison," Joan said, shifting her body, which caused the robe to open even more, but not enough to display her goodies. "She has a pretty good body, too."
"Yes," he replied thoughtfully, still not taking his eyes off the statuesque Venus standing only feet away, "but not compared to you.
And she has a body which she doesn't use."
"Don't tell me you're another of those suffering husbands whose wife doesn't understand him, or who is married to a woman who doesn't give him sex as often as he wants it."
"Oh, Beth understands me, but she doesn't give me sex as often as I need it. But I'm not suffering ... if you know what I mean."
Joan looked at him. He was confident of himself, she would give the bastard credit for that. Suddenly, as if a door had been placed between them, Bill Garrison no longer appealed to her. For a reason she couldn't explain, she was turned off and didn't want to have sex with him.
"No, I bet you don't suffer, Bill."
Garrison took a few steps and was standing in front of her. Pulling her roughly to him, he kissed her hard on the mouth and pushed his tongue inside the warm orifice. Moving it around quickly, he fought her oral digit, then rode the ridge of her gums and along the teeth.
Joan pushed him away roughly. "Bill, I think I've made a mistake. I shouldn't have led you on like I did."
"No, you shouldn't have, unless you meant to follow through."
He still held her arms. He was strong. When she tried to pull away, it did her no good. His hold on her was firm.
"Let go, Bill. I'm sorry I acted like I did, but I can't...."
"Can't go through with it? Tough shit, baby. You started it, so let's finish it."
His voice was deep, and he meant what he said.
"I know I led you on, but you came up here with sex on your mind. And don't tell me you didn't." She tried to sound as strong as he, but couldn't.
Joan realized she was playing with fire. Although he wasn't dangerous, he knew what he wanted, and there was little that could stop him.
"You're damn right I came up here with sex on my mind. In fact, the first day I saw you, here, in an empty apartment, I felt like throwing you down on the bare floor and going at it. You knew that, even then."
"Bill," she said, her voice resigned to the facts facing her, "I'm sorry for what I did. I'll ... I'll lie on the bed and you can make love to me, if you want to. I realize your feelings are mostly my fault. Would that satisfy you?"
"Why don't we see," he answered, leading her to the bed.
Joan went with him, not willingly, but not pulling back, either. She had offered him the opportunity to make love to her and he had taken her up on it. She had hoped he would refuse. But, she had made her bed and would have to lie in it, so to speak.
When Bill undressed, it wasn't difficult to see he was in the mood for some hay time. His cock stood out straight and although she tried not to look, Joan couldn't help but notice the size of it. It was large-not the biggest she had ever seen, but ample enough to satisfy the needs of most women. It had a big, purple head and the sac hung low, full of juice and ready to unload.
Bill untied the belt around her robe. He saw instantly that he had been right-she wasn't wearing anything underneath. He looked at the beautifully-shaped boobs and pink nipples. Her tits stood erect, with no sag, and the nipples were like small rosebuds on a field of white. He cupped one of her tits and Joan didn't push him away. She was willing to lie down and let him screw her, but she wasn't going to respond or help him in any way.
Garrison pushed her back on the bed and ran his fingers over her body, across the nipples, which rose instantly, and on to the soft hair at her pubic triangle. He sucked the mini-erections as his hand played with her mound and then moved on to her quish. Joan didn't open her legs, but Bill was able to get his finger on her cunt lips, which he softly and tenderly rubbed.
Although she had no intention of responding, Joan was too hot-blooded to let any man play with her tits and cunt for any length of time without getting aroused. It wasn't long before she closed her eyes and her legs slowly, although hesitantly, opened. Bill worked on her easily, taking his time, and knew he would soon have her hot to trot.
"Bill, will you please go ahead and do what you want," she said, realizing that if he didn't stop teasing her, she would soon be throwing herself at him.
"What's the matter, Joan? Does my playing with your delicious body get to you?"
"No," she lied. "It's annoying. So, go ahead and do your thing."
Bill felt moisture on the labia and knew he would have no trouble getting inside the hole. He was determined to get her worked up and thought he knew how to do it. Climbing between her shapely gams, he laid the head of his aching pole on the wet lips. Pushing slowly, he shoved his pork into the moist cavern, causing Joan to grunt and lift her hips slightly.
Garrison did not hurry. He was slow and deliberate, moving his cock in and out of her delectable pussy at a steady pace. Joan did not respond, but it was only because of her willpower. His meat felt good inside her, and more than once she wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and hump into him. But she controlled herself as best she could and lay there motionless, pretending that she had no desire to join him.
Bill pulled his wet slab of meat out until only the tip was inside her pussy. Slowly and easily, he let the large head ride the sensitive lips, never pushing the full length into her depths. To torment her even more, he leaned over and sucked on her tits, nibbling at the nipples and sucking greedily on the pink tips.
Despite her strong willpower, Joan could not withstand the emotional trauma he was putting her through. That big cock-head riding her cunt lips was enough to inflame the embers in her hot box, but when he chewed on her tits, that was the absolute capper. She could hold back no longer.
Joan threw her legs around his waist and pushed her twat to him. He knew he had her and rammed his cock as deeply into her burning cavern as he could.
"Umm. Ah." Joan was lifted to the highest peak when she felt the head of his big dick push against her vagina.
Knowing she was now in the mood to really fuck, Bill started pulling his cock all the way out and then shoving it home, deep and hard. Joan grunted each time he did, but went back for more. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. They kissed long and hard as he rammed his cock deeper and deeper into her sexual treasure box. Speeding the motions of his thrusts, Bill rang her bell time after time and it wasn't long before he felt the pressure of her legs around his waist tighten. When he did, he rammed his prick deep into her pussy and unleashed his steamy semen.
Loud groans of erotic pleasure came from deep within as Joan joined him in the mighty eruption of orgasm. She felt his hot fluid spray her pussy walls and he felt a warmth envelop his straining, shooting cock.
"Ah. Good. Damn good." Bill hadn't had a piece of ass this good in a long time, and the thrill of filling that glorious cunny with his love juice caused him to squirt out even more.
He left his dick deep inside Joan. When she pushed her body against him and moved her hips, the feel of his meat caused her to hit a second climax. Bill was ecstatic when he realized she was coming again.
When they were finished, they remained in the same position, except Joan dropped her legs to the bed. They kissed and hugged as Bill's prick, now limber, stayed inside her warm, wet sexual interior.
"Well, Joan," he said, looking into her eyes, "guess you weren't so much against a little fucking as you pretended., were you?"
"Bill, please," she said, not looking at him, not particularly liking the idea of having her dearth of willpower rubbed in her face.
"Come on," he pushed, "you enjoyed it as much as I did. Why not admit it."
"It's not that. It's just that ... that...."
"It's just that you like a good fuck, but don't want to admit it, right?"
Joan was embarrassed. Not from the idea of a man screwing her, which never caused her embarrassment. But because Bill was right, but didn't have the compassion not to taunt her with it.
Bill's mind was other places than on any thought of making things easier for Joan. His cock, still in that warm, damp, heavenly enclosure, was beginning to stiffen. He moved his bone against her crotch and it wasn't long before his staff was again ready for sexual action.
"Bill, please, don't," Joan pleaded, not in the mood for any more of his bedroom frolicking, especially after he had made her feel so cheap. "Isn't once enough for you?"
"No way, baby," he responded, his big pecker again riding her walls, feeling the warmth and smoothness of her pussy. "You're a real piece of ass. Walking away after one fuck would be like taking a bite of candy and throwing away the rest of the bar."
Garrison plowed into her fast and furious. He had lifted his body and was supporting himself on his hands. Joan, her legs spread wide, closed her eyes and let him screw her, not helping, not responding, just lying there, like a board. But, she wouldn't be motionless for long. Bill bent over and pulled one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked.
"No, Bill, don't," Joan said, trying to push his head away. But when he pulled his tongue over the small, sensitive glands on the tip of each nipple, Joan knew she would soon weaken, especially if he continued chewing and sucking the tender buds.
Soon, her hips were moving in rhythm with his thrusts. She couldn't control herself once a man had his hot prick in her pussy. Her emotions were such that the continual rubbing of skin on skin, and the erotic sensation of someone sucking her nipples, tossed off all her inhibitions and resistance. She would probably respond the same way if someone forcibly raped her. She couldn't help herself; she was built for sex, and her emotions only helped to raise her to the surface that much faster.
Bill recognized this and knew that as long as he was in her saddle, or suckling her tits, she would ball forever, or at least until he could no longer get a hard-on.
"At it again, huh?" he teased, flaunting her lack of resistance in her face.
Joan didn't respond. She put her arms around him, closed her eyes, and lifted her hips, pushing her box into him, meeting each thrust.
"Come on, baby. That's it. Lift that twat. Fuck me, too, baby. Make it good."
Bill knew he could say and do anything he wanted, that all she would do was respond. There was no resistance in her now. He had her in the palm of his hand. Pulling his prick out of her love hole, he looked at her wondrous quim. Her hips were still moving, pushing her pussy toward him. He smiled and rolled her over on her stomach. Pulling her hips off the bed, he placed her ass above his cock, then aimed his meat for her gaping, wet, pouting cunt lips. Shoving hard, he rammed it all the way home. Joan grunted and pushed her hips toward him, forcing his meat all the way in.
Bill held her hips tightly and pounded her vagina unmercifully, driving his big pole home with every thrust. Joan was in turmoil. She played with her tits as he drove his rod deeper and deeper inside her. It wasn't long before his torment made her floodgate open and she felt an orgasm race to the forefront. Reaching between her legs, she grabbed his balls and squeezed, then pushed her ass hard against him.
When Garrison felt a warmth on his cock, he shoved his porker in as far as he could and shot off. The feel of his hot cum caused Joan to moan low, a sensual groan of passion, as she hit her fourth climax. To cause her even more torment, just as she came, Bill shoved his finger into her asshole and moved it around. Joan inhaled deeply, squeezed her huge boobs harder, and shoved her body against him. But, before she could have another orgasm, Bill pulled his limp prick from the flooded cavern.
Turning her over on her back, he looked at her face. The beautiful features were wrenched in agonizing pain and frustration. Her body was afire. She had had four orgasms, but his fingering her grasping anus had set the stage for another terrific climax. Her body twisted and turned uncontrollably. She pulled roughly at her tits, and her tongue flicked in and out of her mouth, moistening the red, inviting lips. She humped toward him, lifting her hips off the bed. Almost inaudible moans came from her throat.
Bill smiled, looked at the wet, puffy cunt lips, spread her legs, and buried his face in the juicy quish. Joan groaned loudly when she felt his mouth on her snizz.
"Oh. Oooh. At. That's it. Eat me. Make me come." She was delirious with anxious anticipation. Her body was in its highest fever and she had to release her emotions.
Joan threw her legs around his head and squeezed, entrapping him. Bill shoved his tongue into the wet hole and licked at the juice, reamed her walls, and sent Joan into orbit. She squeezed her tits and humped into his face.
"Oh, God. Eat me. Damn, eat me. That's so good. Tongue the hell out of my cunt. I'm ... I'm ... ready to ... unload. Oh. Ah. Ah."
Her body shook when she hit the peak. She rubbed her gash all over Bill's face, smearing the juices on his nose, his mouth, his chin. She groaned loudly as her floodgate opened and relieved the tension she had been holding within.
"Ah. Oh. Urn. Ah." Joan had come. The ache in her body eased. She opened her legs and released Bill, who gazed at her enticing spread of sex.
Between her legs, it was as wet as a dishcloth. Her tits were red from her rough handling, and her breathing was coming heavy, in deep gasps, as her body slowly eased back to normal. He put a hand between her legs and leaned forward.
"Tell me you didn't enjoy that."
Joan opened her eyes and looked at him. Then, she turned her head. She had enjoyed it, until he spoke. Bill made her feel cheap, almost like a slut.
"Hey, baby, don't turn away. You like this fucking stuff as much as I do, and you know it."
Joan still did not respond. Bill had his hand on her crotch and was rubbing it. She was dis gusted with herself as much as with him, and made no effort to move. Even when he pushed his finger into her wet, flooded snatch, she made no response. Bill, his cock seeming as hard as a diamond after eating her pussy, pulled her head to him and laid his prick on her mouth. Joan turned away, but he pulled her back.
"Open up, baby. I ate your box. The least you can do is chew on my stick of candy. So, bite into it."
He continued fingering her pussy, touching the sides and, with his thumb, rubbed the tender, sensitive cunt lips. Bill pulled her head back to him and pushed his prick into her oral entrance. This time she did not turn away, but opened and let him pump away. She did not suck, but this didn't deter her aggressor. He kept on finger-fucking her as he also fucked her in the mouth, and it wasn't long before her body began to move.
Bill smiled. Damn, what a hot piece of ass, he told himself. All a man has to do is touch her tits or her box and she's ready to fuck.
When Joan responded to his fingering, she also started sucking on his prick. Closing her mouth tightly over the large hunk of meat, she let her teeth ride the ridges of his staff, sending sparks through Bill's body. He pulled his cock out and let just the head move across her lips. Joan kissed the purple monster and tongued beneath. She put a hand on his balls and kneaded them, in the meantime lifting her hips in time with his digital work on her cunt.
Bill pushed his finger as deep into her hole as he could and moved it around. When he did, Joan opened her mouth and gobbled at his pulsating rod. She tightened her legs around his hand and when he felt her fluid flood across his finger, he grabbed her head and shoved his cock all the way inside her mouth, down past her tonsils. Joan gagged and could hardly breathe. She tried to push him away, but couldn't. She felt a hot sticky substance squirt against her throat and swallowed hard, trying to breathe through her nose to keep from suffocating. She was hardly aware that she had climaxed herself, even though she was humping wildly against his finger. His cock was choking her and she had to swallow hard and fast to keep from gagging on his jism.
When Bill was drained, he pulled his wet, limp prick from her mouth and his finger from her pussy. Joan grabbed her throat and inhaled large gulps of air. She had no objection to sucking a man's dick, but never before had she almost suffocated on it. He had been brutal, ramming that big fuck-stick so far in to her throat, and because of his rough treatment, she hadn't enjoyed or even realized her climax.
"By George," Bill said, laughing at the gasping woman, "you suck a dick as well as you fuck."
"Damn, Bill," Joan panted, her breathing still heavy, "do you have to be so vulgar about everything?"
"What the hell," he replied, smiling, cupping her hefty knockers in his big hands, "fuck, suck, what the hell? You know what they mean. And you do both of them damn well."
"All right," Joan said, angrily, "so I'm damn good. Now, you've had your fling. Why don't you leave? Even you should be satisfied by now."
"Oh, baby, I'm satisfied. Am I ever satisfied! But, I want you to shoot your rocks one more time. I want to see your body twist and turn, and that pussy of yours leap up in the air."
"No, Bill," she pleaded. "Please, don't. I've had enough. Why don't you leave. Why don't you...."
Bill paid her no mind. He buried his face between her legs and licked at the gorgeous gash. Darting his tongue in and out of her sex cavern, he soon had Joan humping, lifting her hips wildly as he ate her pussy, causing her emotions to again come to the surface.
"No, Bill. Please. Don't!" She was saying the words, and trying to push his head away from her womanhood, even as she humped into him, grunting and groaning, feeling her floodgate filling and getting ready to burst open. She was wild. He had pulled her to the peak a half-dozen times or more, and she wanted another orgasm. Yet, she also wanted him to quit. Her mind, her body-all of her was in turmoil, a delightful, pleasantly-confusing, erotic turmoil.
"No, Bill...."
She pushed her cunt into him as she felt another climax explode in her body. Moaning, she pulled his head hard against her crotch and ground her pussy into his face, rubbing the labia over his mouth and nose as she drained her body of the ever-loving joy juice.
Bill dressed quietly, leaving Joan lying on the bed, nude, her body fully exposed. He looked at her. The big tits, now rising and falling slowly with her easy breathing. The dark patch of pubic hair at the triangle of her legs, which were slightly parted. He could see traces of moisture mixed with the hair and put his hand between her legs and pressed. She didn't move. He walked to the door and turned.
"Joan," he said, in a low, meaningful tone, "this isn't the last time for us. I'm going to get into that tasty pussy of yours again, as often as I can. You are one helluva piece of ass and I mean it. So, regardless of how much you fight me, I will be back in your saddle. And I know how to turn you on. In fact, any man can probably turn you on, that's how hot you get and how much you love to fuck.
"So, baby, be expecting me. I'm going to be like Douglas MacArthur-'Ishall return.'"
Joan lay quietly on the bed with her eyes closed. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the door close and knew he was gone. She ran her hands over her body, stopping at the mound. Pressing gently, she thought over what had happened and what Bill Garrison had said just before he left.
She had enjoyed his fucking, and really didn't mind sucking his cock. And she thrilled at him eating her into a number of orgasms. But, she did resent his cockiness, his self-assurance, that he could screw her any time he wanted.
She resented it because-he was probably right!
CHAPTER FIVE
Much to Joan's pleasant surprise, and she knew even more to the distress of Bill Garrison, the apartment manager was unable to follow through on much of his threat. Mrs. Garrison, evidently knowing she was married to a rover, kept pretty close tabs on him and seldom made trips away from the building. Also, Joan's job required that she work rather odd hours, so she and Garrison seldom crossed paths.
The job at the agency was very satisfying and enjoyable. And, as time passed, she found herself more and more attracted to Del Peter son. Del, she eventually realized, was not a difficult man to like. In fact, to those who knew him, he was a much-admired individual-smart, outgoing, likeable, dependable, loyal and compassionate. His private secretary was building a loyalty to her boss that could well blossom into love, and she knew it. Del, himself, realized he had a stronger attraction for this woman than he had ever had for any other woman.
Both of them were well aware of their mutual admiration, yet would not put their thoughts into words. They let their feelings go unsaid, but enjoyed the closeness of their friendship. They still had their sexual sessions in his office, but Del was interested in getting Joan alone, by themselves, where they could really enjoy one another, be open with each other. The time finally arrived and he intended to take full advantage of it.
"Joan, do you have any plans this weekend?"
"No," she answered, thoughtfully, looking at her boss. "Why?"
Del leaned back in his overstuffed chair and looked at her. Damn, such a pretty girl. Enticing, sexually enticing. Gorgeous. Great.
"For the first time in months," he continued, "I have a free weekend coming up. How about joining me for a quiet, peaceful couple of days of relaxation, swimming, eating, of doing anything we want to do?"
"Sounds inviting," Joan answered, her heart skipping a beat at the thought of the two of them alone. "Where do you plan on finding this garden of Eden?"
"I have a small beach house a few hours' drive north of the city. It's seldom used because I'm usually too busy to go there. And, too, I've never really known anyone I wanted to spend any time with at the house-until now."
There was a sincerity in his voice that could not be mistaken. Joan knew it; so did Del.
"The house is located on the beach," he continued, "about fifty yards from the ocean. It's a great place to rest and take things easy. We can stop on the way and stock up on groceries. That way, we won't have to leave the house for anything for two whole days. How does that sound?"
"Great. Just great. When do we leave?"
His face beamed with her acceptance. "I have some things to clear up here tonight, and it'll be late before I'm finished. Why don't I pick you up about eight in the morning. That way, we can spend most of tomorrow and Sunday at the beach."
"I'll be ready."
Although they didn't know it at the time, neither Del nor Joan got much sleep that night. Excitement ran through their veins and no amount of counting sheep could push the anticipation aside. They tossed and turned, looking at the clock, anxious for the sun to rise. When it did, Joan was up, showered, dressed and ready when Del arrived.
As she walked from the apartment building to the car, Del watched her. The smooth sway of her hips made his heart pound. She was wearing a sun dress and the halter top grasped her luscious breasts like two eager hands, cupping them, daring anyone to touch them; yet, at the same time, inviting exploration. The dress fit tightly around her waist and emphasized the glorious hips. She had her hair pulled back and tied with a ribbon, adding luster to the beautiful face and dark eyes..
God, what a woman, he thought, as she approached.
"'Morning, boss," she said, lightly, as he held the car door for her. , "Good morning, you gorgeous hunk of woman," he replied, looking at the flash of smooth thigh as she swung into the car.
As they pulled away, Bill Garrison walked around the apartment building. Spying Joan in the car, he stopped and looked at them as they pulled away. She noticed him out of the corner of her eye, but didn't look at him. So long, you bastard, she thought. I'm going to be with a real man for a change. Eat your heart out, you son-of-a-bitch.
Del and Joan stopped at a small store a mile or so from the beach house. They bought more than enough food for two days, but were like kids with a new toy and acted as if they held some big, dark secret that only the two of them knew. And, in a way, they did.
Joan fell in love with the beach house the minute she saw it. There was nothing exceptional about it. In fact, some people might even call it a shack rather than a house. The wind and sand, coupled with salt spray, had peeled away most of the paint. It was small, having only one bedroom, a living-room/kitchen combination, and one bath. It had a wooden porch across the back where they could sit and watch the sunset, sunrise, moon, water or anything their hearts desired.
Joan put the food in the refrigerator and stored the remainder in the kitchen cupboards.
Del walked through the house, looking over everything, seeing if anything was missing.
"Didn't believe this place was in such disrepair," he commented, walking into the kitchen. "Certainly needs a paint job on the outside."
"Don't you dare touch one inch of this house, Del Peterson," Joan said in mock rage. "I love it just the way it is. Those big rambling beach homes we saw on the way up don't impress me one bit. I like the way this house looks, the way it feels. It's comfortable."
"I'll tell you one thing," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes, "it looks a lot better with you in it."
He pulled her to him and they kissed, long and passionately, pressing their bodies close together. Del rubbed her back as they kissed and moved his hand to one of her tits and squeezed.
"Not now," she said, breaking the embrace and smiling at him. "That will come later. It's been years since I've swum in the ocean. Come on, put on your suit and let's get wet."
"All right, you tease," he said, giving her a quick peck on the lips. "But I'm holding you to your promise, about later."
"It'll be worth the wait, I promise." She patted his cheek as she turned and walked out of the kitchen.
Del changed into his swimsuit in the living room while Joan dressed in the bedroom. When she walked through the doorway into the living room, he melted.
She was wearing a bikini that left little to the imagination. Her ample breasts strained at the thin strip of material covering not much more than the nipples. The almost-as-thin strap around her hips revealed a mound that jutted through the material, causing his mouth to water.
"Damn, Joan, that's not fair," he blurted, looking at her, not missing one of her curves. "What's not fair?"
"You, running around looking like that and me, having to wait until later. It's not fair, you inviting, enticing sex witch."
"Good," she said, smiling at him. "It'll keep you built up."
"Joan," he replied, suddenly serious, "I don't need any encouragement to stay built up, as far as you're concerned."
"Come on," she said, gleefully, grabbing him by the hand, "let's go jump in the ocean."
They romped and swam, enjoying each other's company. After a couple of hours, they walked back to the house and Joan fixed sandwiches and drinks. Del pulled two loungers onto the porch and they sat and looked at the water as they ate. Very little conversation was carried on. They were content with one another, just being together was enough.
The warm sun and the swim caused them to become drowsy. Before they realized it, they had dropped off to sleep. They lay in the loungers, close together, dozing, letting the warm sun beat down on them and, in their sleep, listening to the rush of water as it beat upon the shore.
Around four o'clock, Del awoke. He looked at Joan, still asleep, lying on her back. He didn't awaken her right away. Instead, he looked at her, the full figure, the beautiful face, the delicious lips. During this time he realized that he was anxious to get in bed with this sex kitten, yet had been content just being with her, talking and laughing. Bed rolling had almost taken a back seat in his thoughts. But, sex wasn't the most important thing anymore; she was.
After a time, he gently touched her arm. "Joan. Joan."
"Ummm?" The sleeping girl awoke slowly from her drowsiness.
"Joan. Do you realize what time it is? It's four o'clock."
"Did we sleep that long?" she asked, surprised.
"Yep."
"You know," she said, looking at the ruggedly-handsome man next to her, "I'm glad you suggested this weekend. I think we both needed it."
"I do, too. I feel great, already. How about another swim, then we'll have dinner?"
"Okay. Race you to the water."
"Say, are you a good cook."
"I'm a whiz at the stove," she assured him, pulling him toward the beach.
They swam and frolicked until almost dark; then, tired and hungry, dragged themselves to the house.
"Why don't you take a shower while I fix supper," Joan suggested. "I'll bathe after we eat."
Del whistled as the warm, fresh water washed the salt from his body. His mind flashed back over the day and the good time they had had together. He expected an even better day tomorrow. He liked her being there with him, in the kitchen, preparing supper while he bathed. He felt good all over-and comfortable.
When he finished his shower, he dried off and put on a robe. He sniffed the air as he walked back into the living room.
"Man, does that smell good. What're you fixing?"
"Steaks and mushrooms with French fries. How does that sound?"
"Deeelicious! I'm famished. How much longer before it's ready?"
"A few more minutes. Sit down and watch television. I'll set the table and we should be ready to eat soon."
Joan was still wearing the skimpy bikini and Del had to turn away. If he looked at her much longer, the food would have to be put aside. He sat on the couch and watched the evening news. About ten minutes later, she called him to the table.
They devoured every morsel; they were hungrier than they had thought. As they ate, they talked, about the day, about things in general. When they were finished, Joan, still in that tantalizing bikini, cleared the table.
"I'm going to take a shower, Del," she said, heading toward the rear of the house.
"Okay. And I'll do the dishes."
"You'll wash dishes?" she asked, amazed.
"I've been a bachelor for many years, Joan, and have become quite the expert. Seldom do I break a dish. Besides, after the meal you prepared, that's the least I can do."
Joan went to the bathroom and undressed. She, like Del, felt soothed as the warm water washed the salt off her body. When she was finished, she listened at the door. Apparently, Del had finished the dishes and was again watching television. She opened the door slightly, giving herself only enough of an opening so she could see into the living room. Del was sitting on the couch, his back to her. Joan slipped out of the bathroom, naked, and hurried to the bedroom. Shortly, she called to him.
"Del, could you come here a minute, please?"
Peterson, only half-thinking, rose and walked to the bedroom, looking back once or twice at the program being carried on the television set.
"Yes, Joan, what do you...?"
His mouth flew open when he walked into the bedroom. His eyes bugged and he felt perspiration pop out on his forehead.
Joan was standing in the middle of the room, wearing one of the sheerest, sexiest gowns he had ever set two eyes on. It was pale blue in color with small straps running over the shoulders. Close-fitting at the waist, it emphasized her hips as well as her breasts. Although the lamp in the room was on, he could barely make out a dark triangle at the junction of her legs.
His breathing became rapid as he was certain his prick was standing straight out. Joan knew it was-she could see the large hunk of meat pushing against his robe, making the cloth stand out from his body.
"Whew," he whistled, as his eyes traveled over the unbelievable vision standing before him. "Damn, you're something else, Joan Willis. Something else!"
He walked to her and put his arms around her waist. She put her arms around his neck and they kissed, their bodies crushing against each other. The kiss was long and meaningful, with passion there, but placed second to a real deep, personal feeling.
Del finally broke the kiss and looked into Joan's eyes.
"You are one hell of a woman, Joan. I mean that."
They kissed again, and passion rushed for ward. Their bodies pressed against one another and Del's hands roamed her body, stopping when he touched the two globes of flesh. Gently, lovingly, he massaged her tits and she pushed her body harder against his. He felt the nipples harden instantly and gingerly pinched them. She moaned and rubbed against him, feeling his big, thick dick press on her hairy mound. Moving her hand, she brushed aside the robe and wrapped her fingers around his hard-on. Boy, it's big, she thought to herself, as she stroked it. Feeling the large head sent thrills all the way to the deepest recesses of her cunt. Just touching the smooth skin, and already knowing how good it felt inside her quish, caused her to moan and squeeze his staff.
The very touch of her delicate fingers on his dick almost made Del blow his balls. He kissed her harder, then tenderly pulled the straps of the gown from her shoulders. Easing the material down, he kissed her tits and tongued her navel as he pulled the sheer, silky material from around her ankles. On his knees, he buried his face in her mound and kissed the skin just above her tasty pussy. Joan groaned and put her hands on his head, pulling him hard against her body. Her head was back and her eyes closed, as he kissed the inside of her thighs and bit into the pubic mound.
Joan spread her legs slightly and Del flicked his tongue into her cunt. She almost unloaded right then. His tenderness and warm foreplay had gotten her so hot she could explode. But she wanted to hold off as long as she could, to let him have plenty of time to tease her, to play with her, to build her up even more.
Del continued to toy with her cunt with his licker, moving his hands to her ass and massaging the cheeks. Joan, fire sparking through her body, purred and moaned, and shoved her crotch into his face and pulled his head hard against her body. If he continued much longer she would have an orgasm right there, standing in the middle of the room!
Del wasn't going to let that happen. He stood up and after removing his robe, picked her up in his arms and gently laid her on the bed. He kissed her on the mouth, then started traveling her body, sucking on her tits, tonguing her navel, biting into her mound. When he reached her thighs, Joan spread willingly, anxiously, anticipating his next move.
Del slowly, sensually pulled his tongue across the sensitive cunt lips, causing Joan's body to tremble with excitement. She rushed her hand to his hard penis and squeezed, then moved to his balls. Being more gentle there, she slowly massaged the marbles and then went back to his prick, her true satisfier. Her lover continued to lick her pussy, then pulled the lips into his mouth and sucked. No sooner did he do that than she humped and let out a low, gratifying moan.
"Oh, Del. Damn. Ah." She squeezed even harder on his joy stick, closed her eyes, and felt the wonderful sensation of a climax flow through her entire body.
"You made me come, Del," she panted. "Oh, boy, did you make me come."
"Good," he smiled, his head still at her twat. "That makes it worth the effort."
"Uh-huh," she purred, stroking his cock, enjoying his tongue still on her pussy.
Del shifted and climbed between her legs. Her orgasm had made her box wet and easy to enter. He pushed gently and reveled in the feel of his big dick sliding into the warm, juicy, inviting hole. When he was all the way in, he pumped slowly, smoothly, in no hurry, enjoying the feel of her delightful pussy.
Joan put her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. They kissed as he screwed and she lifted and lowered her hips with his movements. She was enjoying it as much as he and was in no hurry to bring it to an end.
Del leaned over and sucked on her nipples. That caused Joan to start humping faster and brought her to the edge of another orgasm. Del was caught up in her heat and pumped faster, driving his big dork deeper into her boiling inferno. They were grunting and groaning, straining to unload. Joan lifted her snatch and let Del plow his rod into her as far as he could. He wanted to shoot off, to fill that delicious cunt with his cum.
Ramming into her as hard as he could, he felt it hit home. When Joan felt his hot juice paint her walls, she hit the peak, joining him in the delightful climax, the crescendo of erotic emotions.
"Oh, baby," he said, his eyes closed, his cock all the way inside as he felt his fluid gush. "Oh, that's it. That's it."
Joan wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted her box to him so he could push even deeper. She was having an orgasm to top all orgasms. Her entire body tingled from the thought of their juices mingling, traveling around inside her pussy.
When they were finished, Joan let her legs ease to the bed. She still had her arms around his neck and they kissed again, tenderly, lovingly. Del was on top of her, his ebbing prong in as far as it would go. After a few moments, he spoke.
"Joan, how often can you climax?"
"I don't know. Why?"
"Let's see."
"What are you going to do?" she asked, her curiosity on edge. "Be surprised."
Del moved down her body, letting his limp cock slide from the warm, flooded comfortable cavern. He cupped her tits and sucked and nibbled on both of them. Moving downward, he licked her navel and bit into the hairy mound. Joan closed her eyes and let her hands rest on his head. ", Damn, he's wonderful, she thought. Nothing like that bastard, Garrison. Del is gentle, tender, loving and certainly knows how to make love.
If Del wasn't an expert in the art of lovemaking, then there were no experts around. Moving to her joy box, he pushed his mouth-finger into the wet hole. Moving it around, he touched her walls, at the same time playing with her buttocks. Joan was washed away by his touches. She had already shot off twice in just a matter of minutes. Now, he had pushed her to the top again, and she could feel her floodgate filling, anxious to unload.
Del ran his tongue gently over the rim of her pussy and it almost drove her insane. Joan moaned and grabbed her tits, which she squeezed roughly. She pushed her box into his face as he plowed his tongue deep into her cavern, the embers causing her body to reach fever pitch. Joan humped and grunted, and Del felt a warmth coat his tongue. As she shot off, he licked her greedily, lapping at the juice, fingering her anus, making her have another orgasm almost immediately after the first one.
Her lover had made her unload four times, almost one after the other. And he wasn't finished! When her body stilled, Del pulled his lapper from her flaming pussy, bit into the hairy mound, then placed his hand over her cunt. Moving back up her body, he didn't stop until he again had her nipples in his mouth and sucked and chewed on the tender, sensitive tips. At the same time, he shoved his finger into her flooded sex canal, and moved it around, touching the walls as he did.
Joan's thoughts momentarily went back to her escapade with Bill Garrison. What a difference between him and Del. While Garrison made her respond, he had done so through actual force. Del, on the other hand, was making her respond through nothing but gentle, tender lovemaking. And she was anxious to please him. She would try her damnedest to come as much as he wanted her to.
She cupped his testicles in one hand and massaged them. Crossing her legs, she trapped his hand in her hot snatch and her hips began to move, raising and lowering as he reamed her pussy. His penis was soft, but her expert touches soon brought it to life. She stroked it slowly and carefully. Before long, his dick was stiff and ready for action. But Del couldn't get it in her hole before she had another orgasm. She tightened her legs around his hand and grunted as her come hit, not as hard and deep as before, but a good, sound release just the same.
When Del knew she was through coming, he placed himself between her shapely legs and moved his prong in and out of her juicy hole. Joan knew she would have no difficulty coming again, but wanted him to shoot off with her. She put a hand on his balls and played with them while he fucked. Del closed his eyes and enjoyed the wonderful, thrilling touch of her hand. Her caress also made him speed up his thrusts and soon he was pounding deeper and harder, excited, anxious to fire his load.
Joan joined in when he unloaded and they moaned, straining to get every drop of sex-juice out of their containers.
Del, being the normal male, couldn't shoot off nearly as often as Joan. And the girl, her storage tank drained, was ready for some rest. After all, she didn't have half-a-dozen orgasms too often, especially not within a half hour's time. But, Del had made her do it. He had succeeded in making her come almost continually.
They lay beside each other for a long time, their hands together, feeling the warmth of two close bodies. They were drained, but satisfied, and happy. Del almost fell asleep and probably would have if Joan hadn't disturbed him.
"Del," she said, rousing him from the fog he had fallen into, "I want to tell you that regardless of what tomorrow brings, I have really enjoyed this day. It has been absolutely fabulous. Tremendous."
"I'm glad," he said, squeezing her hand. "We'll have to do this more often."
"Promise?" she whispered, leaning over and resting on one elbow. "Promise that we can come back here again."
"Joan, if I had my way, we'd never leave."
She looked into his eyes and knew he meant it. Leaning over, she kissed him warmly on the mouth. He returned the kiss, at the same time putting his hand on one of her gorgeous tits and squeezing.
Joan rose to her knees and moved her tantalizing fingers delicately over his body, through the hair on his chest and across the nipples. She sucked on his nipples for an instant or two, then kissed his stomach, navel, and bit into the hair at the base of his huge staff, which was now standing straight up and rockhard.
Del closed his eyes and placed his hand on her body, running his fingers over her sexy bottom and stopping when he found her cunt. While Joan worked on him, Del gently massaged the sensitive vaginal lips, pulling his dexterous digit along the velvet, wet surface.
Joan put one hand on his nuts and kneaded them. With the other she lightly stroked his stiff rod, at the same time kissing and licking the glans. She ran her tongue around the ridge of the purple battering-ram and then took just the head in her mouth. When Del felt the warmth of her oral channel on his prick, he sighed and pressed against her box.
There was no way she could take the entire length of his whang in her mouth, so she sucked on the head and stroked the staff. Del felt pleasant sensations flow through his testicles. He moaned as she sucked and stroked, and he pushed his finger into her warm pussy. Joan spread her legs when she felt him inside her and moved closer to him. Trying to take as much of his hard cock as she could into her mouth, she went down on him, then slowly, teasingly, moved her head upwards, sucking hard and squeezing his balls. Del almost blew his mind. He groaned and lifted his hips to accompany her sucking. He shoved his finger as deep into her hole as he could and moved it around. She was tormenting the hell out of him and he loved it! He had had plenty of women in his time, but none could compare to this sexual volcano now working on him. She could drive any man to erotic spasms.
The more Joan worked on him, the hotter he became. Working feverishly with his digit in her pussy, he decided he wasn't giving her enough thrills. He pulled her until they were in the soixante-neuf position and buried his face between her legs.
Joan just about unloaded the instant his tongue touched her thick labia. It caused her to go so far down on his pulsating pecker that she choked. Easing off, she squeezed his balls and sucked harder on the head, still stroking the staff as she did. Del pushed his lapper into her fiery furnace and reamed the walls. Joan moaned and groaned, his cock filling her mouth, her hips moving frantically. She knew it wouldn't be long before she shot off and wanted to taste the sweetness of his scum when she did.
She stroked his length harder, pressed lovingly on his nuts, and sucked. His hips moved a mile a minute, up and down, up and down. He gobbled at her gash until he had her juice all over his face. He pulled the cunt lips into his mouth, sucking and chewing on them. Joan couldn't hold off any longer. He had her on the edge and any second her floodgate would open and her orgasm would gush forth.
Joan put her mouth on his throbbing cockhead and sucked harder. At the same time, she squeezed his nut sac and increased the stroking of his staff. That was all it took. Del shoved his hips into the air, groaned loudly-though the sound was muffled by her box-and sprayed her throat and mouth with his sperm.
Joan swallowed hard and continued beating his meat. Squeezing his sac, she forced as much cum out as she could. The instant she felt his fluid hit her throat, she pushed her crotch into his face and wet his tongue. Del licked at her hungrily, lapping the labia, shoving his oral digit into her burning hole as far as he could, making her hit another climax.
To be certain she had drained her lover, Joan put a hand on the base of the staff and slowly moved upward, squeezing as she did, forcing out every drop of his love potion. Even after she had reached the top and he had no juice left, she continued to suck and kiss the purple head. Del didn't stop, either, just because she had climaxed. He kissed the cunt lips and ran his tongue over the smooth surface. He pushed his licker back into her moist depths and touched the sides, sending chills of excitement through her body.
When they were finished, Joan lay down beside him and they embraced. Their breathing was heavy as they kissed, but they were two very contented, satisfied people.
CHAPTER SIX
The following day was a repeat of Saturday, only more enjoyable, but not as long. The two lovers had to pack and leave about four in the afternoon to get back to the city by dusk.
During the return drive, Joan sat close to Del and they talked about the good time they had had at the beach. When they arrived at her apartment, their parting kiss was long and promising. Joan hated to leave him, and he was as reluctant as she. There would be other times, of that they were certain.
But delightful times at the beach would not come again for some time. On Monday morning, Del had just arrived at the office when he received a call from New York. Two hours later, he was on an airplane headed for the East Coast and would be gone for two or three weeks.
He no sooner left than Joan became lonely. She couldn't understand her feelings because she had never felt this way toward any man. She enjoyed being with men, she enjoyed having sex with them, but had never taken any of them seriously. Now, for the first time, she missed a man, one particular man.
The agency was busy the next few days and Joan had little time to think about her loneliness, although she often thought of Del. Several new clients were brought to the agency and she had to handle their accounts and do the million-and-one things Del usually did. She had learned a lot the past couple of years and knew her job well. One male in particular received special attention, and Joan was to be exposed to a lovemaking that she'd never before encountered with a man.
Ron Collins, young, good-looking, with an athletic build, was opening a chain of hardware stores coast-to-coast and was on the lookout for a well-known agency to handle his publicity. The Peterson firm had been highly recommended. While at first disappointed that the boss was not available, Ron found that Joan handled him so expertly and sincerely that he soon forgot about the agency's head man.
"Joan, I must say, your firm certainly knows what I want in my advertising campaign. I'm delighted with the ideas your admen have come up with, especially the television spots."
"Thank you, Mr. Collins. I feel certain we can handle the publicity features. We'll assign one of our top men to your account and he'll outline all phases of the campaign for you."
"Excellent," he said, looking at the beautiful and efficient hunk of woman sitting behind the desk.
Ron stood up and checked his watch. "It's almost dinner time. Would you care to have something to eat with me? I'm not familiar with your city and would appreciate your suggesting a good place."
Joan started to refuse, but it hit her that it had been more than a week since Del had left. Since he'd been gone, she had put in eighteen-hour days in the agency and hadn't been out during that time. It might be a nice treat to go to a good restaurant and relax and enjoy a meal. And especially with such a handsome escort.
"I accept your invitation," she said, standing up. "Let me tell the receptionist we're leaving, and I'll be right with you."
They dined in one of the nicest bistros in town and Ron was excellent company. He could talk on a wide range of subjects, not just hardware, and was totally pleasant to be with. Joan found herself enjoying the evening and when dinner was over, she hesitated but slightly before accepting an invitation to have a nightcap in his hotel room.
Joan was even happier that Ron did not talk shop. She loved her job at the agency, but enjoyed a break from it. Ron talked about his home in Arizona and his family, which consisted of his wife and young son.
"I'm sorry your wife couldn't come with you," Joan said, sipping on the drink Ron had prepared. "I think she would have liked Los Angeles."
"She would have," he agreed, "but she runs a small antiques shop and didn't want to close it down. It's a hobby with her. But the main reason she didn't come is because of Jeff, our son. He's in the first grade, and we didn't think it would be good to pull him out for a week or more."
They talked and Joan became more aware that Ron was eyeing her, looking at her figure. She was wearing a pants suit with a tight knit sweater, and her breasts were fully emphasized. She caught him more than once staring at her big boobs pushing against the material. She would have no qualms about going to bed with this handsome devil, but the way he talked about his family, with such devotion in his voice, she didn't believe he would try to put the make on her.
Almost as if he had read her mind, Ron spoke, his words catching her off-guard.
"Joan, I've been married for almost nine years. During all that time, I've never been unfaithful to my wife, nor do I ever intend to."
"Why are you telling me that?" Joan asked, staring at him.
He looked at her for several seconds, then stood up and walked to the window.
"Because being with you tonight, looking at your beautiful face and your gorgeous figure, makes me want to be unfaithful."
"Ron, I have no hang-up about making love to a married man," she said matter-of-factly, "but I don't believe you really want to go to bed with me. I think you miss your wife more than you miss sex."
"Maybe," he replied, thoughtfully. "But you're enticing as hell and you've gotten me so emotionally uptight that I'm about ready to throw my vow of faithfulness out the window."
Joan was surprised at his frankness, but his words were a compliment to her. Looking at him, she realized that she, too, was beginning to get a little warm, especially between the legs. But, what to do about it?
"Ron, I'm afraid there's no way you can make love to another woman and remain faithful to your wife. Under the circumstances, I think maybe I had better leave."
"Why?" he asked, walking toward her. "Do you feel the same way? Do you want to make love?"
She stared at him. He was honest, she would have to admit. But instead of answering his question, she picked up her purse and turned toward the door.
"I think I had better go, Ron."
The man took her by the arm and turned her to him. Without speaking, he kissed her. Joan didn't push him away and even responded slightly. Ron caught even the weak response and made the most of it.
"Come with me, Joan. You're as much in the mood for love as I am."
He led her into the bedroom and once inside, again took her in his arms. This time when they kissed, Joan put her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. They pushed their bodies hard into one another and she could feel his pole, stiff and ready for action, press against her mound. When he put a hand on one of her tits, she inhaled and shoved harder against his body. She was more in the mood for bed-rolling than she had imagined.
They undressed and lay on the bed. Ron took her in his arms and they kissed again. He was well-hung, she found out, feeling his stiff rod against her bare skin, and was anxious to have that pole pushed into her warm, ever-heating oven. But Ron didn't hop in the saddle. Instead, he started traveling along her body.
He moved to his knees and sucked her nipples, at the same time putting a hand on the dark hair at her triangle. Joan was already wet and spread her legs slightly at his touch. She closed her eyes as he sucked her tits and let her hand rove his body, not stopping until she reached her destination-his rod of pleasure. It was bigger than she had at first thought. Although it had a small head, it was long, as long as many she had seen, but not as thick as some.
Ron journeyed down her body until he throw my vow of faithfulness out the window."
Joan was surprised at his frankness, but his words were a compliment to her. Looking at him, she realized that she, too, was beginning to get a little warm, especially between the legs. But, what to do about it?
"Ron, I'm afraid there's no way you can make love to another woman and remain faithful to your wife. Under the circumstances, I think maybe I had better leave."
"Why?" he asked, walking toward her. "Do you feel the same way? Do you want to make love?"
She stared at him. He was honest, she would have to admit. But instead of answering his question, she picked up her purse and turned toward the door.
"I think I had better go, Ron."
The man took her by the arm and turned her to him. Without speaking, he kissed her. Joan didn't push him away and even responded slightly. Ron caught even the weak response and made the most of it.
"Come with me, Joan. You're as much in the mood for love as I am."
He led her into the bedroom and once inside, again took her in his arms. This time when they kissed, Joan put her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. They pushed their bodies hard into one another and she could feel his pole, stiff and ready for action, press against her mound. When he put a hand on one of her tits, she inhaled and shoved harder against his body. She was more in the mood for bed-rolling than she had imagined.
They undressed and lay on the bed. Ron took her in his arms and they kissed again. He was well-hung, she found out, feeling his stiff rod against her bare skin, and was anxious to have that pole pushed into her warm, ever-heating oven. But Ron didn't hop in the saddle. Instead, he started traveling along her body.
He moved to his knees and sucked her nipples, at the same time putting a hand on the dark hair at her triangle. Joan was already wet and spread her legs slightly at his touch. She closed her eyes as he sucked her tits and let her hand rove his body, not stopping until she reached her destination-his rod of pleasure. It was bigger than she had at first thought. Although it had a small head, it was long, as long as many she had seen, but not as thick as some.
Ron journeyed down her body until he reached the hairy mound, which he gently bit into. Joan arched her back, lifting her hips, and moaned soft and low. Her legs spread farther apart, and Ron bent over and kissed the warm, anxious cunt lips. Joan spread her legs as far apart as she could, permitting him plenty of room in which to operate.
Ron pulled his tongue across the wet labia and Joan lifted her hips, pushing her body toward him. She squeezed his prick, then stroked it. She moved her hand to his nuts and squeezed the sac. When he shoved his tongue inside her box, while still teasing the lips, Joan groaned and put her free hand on one of her big boobs, massaging it roughly, and pinching the pink bud. He was building her up faster and faster, bringing her to the edge of erotic pleasure.
He slipped one hand under her ass and played with the small hole. This increased the sensations in her body and Joan humped and twisted wildly. When he shoved his lapper into the hot, juicy snizz, she lifted her body and moaned softly.
"Umm. Ah. Good. Ummm." She hit her first climax when he pushed his tongue far into her and touched the walls of the damp cavern.
Joan tensed her legs and lifted her crotch into his face, all the time squeezing his balls and her tit. He licked at the fluid in her quim, shoving his tongue deep into her hole and moving it around. Soon, Joan was again humping as he brought her to another climactic explosion.
Two in a row, she thought, silently. Not bad. The tenseness in her gams eased, but Ron didn't move his head from her crotch, although he did shift his body. In seconds, Joan saw his anxious, throbbing cock, that long hunk of meat, hanging but inches from her mouth. Ron was still situated over her pussy and rubbed his hand along the tender lips. Joan played with his testicles and stroked his prick until she felt him push a finger into her hole. Placing her hands on his hips, she pulled his body down and took that long piece of joy stick in her mouth. It wasn't very thick, but she felt the length tickle her throat as she sucked on it. Ron was giving her a special treat at the same time.
He rubbed her cunt with his talented digits, then pushed into her snatch, causing Joan to lift her hips with each thrust. He kept doing that for some time, rubbing the lips, then fingering her. Joan's heat increased with every motion, with every thrust. She sucked harder on his cock, all the time playing with his balls, as she felt the length of his meat slide in and out of her mouth.
She was building him up just as fast as he was making her emotions peak. He pumped in and out of her throat, increasing the speed the harder she sucked. Her hips rose and fell with each of his thrusts, which increased with her devouring of his cock. They were worked up to a fever pitch and, although Joan had already come twice, the feel of his hot juice running down her throat caused her to have another orgasm. She sucked hard on his cock as the semen oozed out his piss slit.
Ron digitally aroused her as he unloaded. When he felt a warmth on his finger, he rotated it inside her exploding volcano, touching every side, and shoving it in as far as he could. His continual manipulation made her hit another climax, her fourth for the night, and they had hardly begun!
"Whew," Ron said, breathing heavily as he lay down beside her. "That was something."
They embraced and lay there quietly for a long time, letting their breathing return to normal. After a while, Ron spoke.
"I guess," he said, letting his fingers ring one of her nipples, "it is possible to get sexual satisfaction without having intercourse."
"It is," Joan responded, "but it doesn't always satisfy everyone, the way you have to do it, I mean."
"Were you satisfied?" he asked, still looking at the ample mound of smooth skin with the stiff pink beacon.
"Yes," she replied, not quite honestly. She had no objections to sucking a man's cock, and she thoroughly enjoyed being eaten, by man or woman. But there was something about a hunk of meat sliding in and out of her pussy that brought the excitement to the surface, made her pant and crave more.
Thinking Ron might have a mixture of guilt and pleasure because of what they were doing, she didn't press the issue. He had made her come four times, and that in itself was pleasing to her. While she would have preferred that long pole of his in her pussy, she would go along with him, just to make him feel less guilty, although to herself she saw no difference in sex, whether it was fucking or sucking.
Ron continued to play with her tits and it wasn't long before the heat started building up inside Joan. She could feel the embers being stoked and her body moved against his. Ron's cock was still limber, although she knew it wouldn't be long before it came to life.
He felt her body move and knew she was getting in the mood again. He sucked and bit on her nipples, causing the fire to build up more rapidly. When she was moving faster, and he heard low groans come from her throat, he shifted his body, moving down on the bed.
"Come on, Joan. Sit on my face."
A second invitation wasn't needed. Her body was burning and she would have given anything to feel that long stick of his satisfy her needs. But, if he wanted to make her climax with his tongue, she would go along with him.
Joan straddled his face and slowly lowered her wet bush to his mouth. Ron pushed his tongue into the hole and licked the sides. Joan closed her eyes and played with her tits. She rode his lapper as he licked the cunt lips and darted in and out of her hole. He was bringing her up fast!
She felt his arms moving against her legs, but had no idea what he was doing. Opening her eyes and looking behind her, she saw that he was playing with his cock and balls. She knew he must be in agony and shifted her body, but not taking her pussy off his glorious, tantalizing tongue. When she put her hand on his prick, he pulled his own hand away and played with her rear end.
Joan continued to ride his tongue as he tormented the hell out of her. She stroked his cock as he ate her. The hotter she became, the faster she beat his meat. Her hips moved frantically as he kept pushing her to her sexual pinnacle with his sucking and tonguing. She pushed her box hard onto his face when an orgasm erupted in her body.
"Oh. Ah. Oh. Good. Ah. So good." She closed her eyes and squeezed his cock as her floodgate opened and her fluids coated his tongue.
Ron ate her pussy even more as it became wetter. He sucked on the lips and pushed his tongue deep into her sex canal.
Once the first burst of orgasm was over, Joan again beat his meat, but didn't move her delectable crotch from his face. She had pulled his emotions to the top and his nuts ached to unload their contents. He pushed his hips up with each stroke and the harder she pumped his staff, the more he ate her pussy, causing Joan to hit another climax.
Each time she came, Joan would stop beating his meat, squeezing it instead, as she felt the climax flood through her. Soon, she was again stroking his length, making him hump with each stroke. But Ron was still at her pussy, licking and sucking the labia. Joan positively knew she would hit another glorious eruption before he came if she didn't hurry up.
She increased the speed of her strokes and Ron groaned and humped frantically, anxious to come. The harder she stroked his dick, the more greedily he ate her pussy, driving her insane with his tongue, with his sucking. Her pot was boiling and ready to run over when she felt a wetness on her hand.
White, sticky juice spurted out the tiny hole in the head of his prick. Joan watched with interest as the joy sap roared from the opening and landed on the bed, on her hand, On his body. She continued pumping, squeezing harder with every stroke, as she watched the last drop seep from his throbbing prick.
Just as the last of his fluid escaped, she felt another orgasm hit her body. Pushing harder on his face, she shoved her gash down and felt his tongue go deep inside her. Grunting and straining, she let her gates release another round.
"Ummm. Ummm. Again. I'm ... coming
... again. Oh."
She squeezed even harder on his limp cock as she felt her emotions hit the peak and then start their decline as her climax ended.
Although Ron seemed happy with their escapades, and even though Joan had come seven or eight times, she wasn't completely satisfied.
She left the hotel room about two o'clock in the morning-drained, wet between the legs, and exhausted.
But her sexual craving was still there. Ron had not taken care of that itch, regardless of the number of times he had eaten her into orgasmic bliss.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The day after her orgy with Ron Collins was Saturday. Joan had planned to go to the office and do some work, but her experience the night before had left her unsettled, her body frustrated. She had certainly shot her load enough, but was still dissatisfied.
Not awakening until mid-morning, Joan stretched lazily in the big, comfortable bed. She had come in earlier that morning and gone straight to sleep, not even bothering to put on a gown. Throwing back the covers, she looked down at her naked body. The large, firm breasts rested like two big melons on a field of smooth skin. The nipples, to her surprise, were erect. She touched them and found that they were hard. Farther down, she saw the soft bush of pubic hair at her triangle.
Running her fingers through the strands brought back memories of Del Peterson and the excitement he had given her. She squeezed her legs together to ease the sensation. Then she spread them apart and put her hand on her twat.
Umm, that feels good, she thought. Oops. Better stop that. Before I know it, I'll be fingering myself.
Joan rose from the bed, her boobs bouncing as she walked, and went to the bathroom. Turning the shower on full force, she stepped in and let the warm water sting every inch of her body. After the shower, she dried off and slipped into a robe. She prepared a light breakfast and ate slowly, reading the newspaper as she ate.
After breakfast, she cleaned the kitchen and straightened up the rest of the apartment. That done, she stood in the middle of the living room and looked around. She knew she should go to the office and do some work, but her body still felt in turmoil. She knew exactly what she needed, what she wanted. And she knew Bill Garrison, the apartment manager, would be more than willing to satisfy her desires, if he could get away from his wife.
Joan wanted no part of Garrison, though. Despite the fact that she could stand a good tumble in bed, she didn't want Garrison to satisfy her needs. The one experience with him had been sufficient. He had turned her off. As far as she was concerned, if they never had sex again, it would be too soon.
For the lack of anything better to do, Joan decided to go to a nearby shopping center and do some browsing. She spent an hour or so there and bought a few items that interested her, although she didn't really need them. Returning to the apartment complex, she no sooner stepped into the entranceway than she ran into Garrison.
"Well, hello," he said, smiling lustfully at her. "I've been looking for you. I have a few free minutes and wanted to check your place for some repairs that need to be done."
Repairs, my ass, she said to herself. He wanted to get her in bed. She wasn't interested, but didn't know how to get away from him. Her twat did need tickling, but she hoped it would be by someone other than the crude apartment manager. Then, she saw a way out of the dilemma.
"George," she called to a young teenage boy walking through the doorway, "would you help me up to my apartment with these packages?"
"Glad to, Miss Willis," he smiled, taking the bags from her.
"Everything in my apartment is working just fine, Mr. Garrison," she said, grinning triumphantly at the disappointed manager, "but I'll certainly let you know if anything goes wrong."
"You do that, Miss Willis. You do that." His tone was one of sarcastic defeat.
Joan hurried to catch up with the boy carrying her bags. They talked as they walked up the stairs and headed for her apartment.
George Wright was the son of a couple that lived down the hall. He was eighteen years old, small and thin, and wore glasses. Not exactly a good-looking youngster, he was friendly, although shy. Joan liked the boy and talked with him every time they met.
"I thought you'd be at the beach with your friends on a day like this," Joan said, opening the door.
"No," he replied, longingly. "I ... I don't mix too well with the rest of the high-school bunch."
"Well, that's their loss, George, as far as I'm concerned. I think you're a pretty nice young man and you can be my friend, anytime."
George smiled at her as he put the bags in the kitchen.
"Would you like a cold drink?" she asked, opening the refrigerator.
"No, thank ... Yes, I would, please."
"Here. Do you want it in ice, or will the can be okay?"
"The can's fine."
"Have a seat," she invited.
The boy sat in one of the kitchenette chairs and watched her put away the items she had bought as he drank the soda.
"I'm going to put this stuff in the bedroom, George. Be back in a minute. Make yourself at home."
Joan hummed as she walked through the apartment. George watched as she left the kitchen and felt an odd sensation between his legs.
While in the bedroom, Joan changed from the skirt and blouse she had been wearing to shorts and a halter top. The halter held her tits as if it was part of her skin, and the tight shorts clasped her crotch and emphasized the mound at the junction of her delectable legs.
Not bad, you old hag, she smiled at herself, as she glanced in the bedroom mirror.
When she walked back into view, George, still sitting in the chair and drinking the soda, almost choked when he saw the vision of loveliness appear. Joan noticed his reaction and smiled.
"What's the matter, George, go down the wrong pipe?" She knew it wasn't the drink that caused him to choke.
"Yes, ma'am. Must have." He spoke, but his eyes were on her large breasts, sticking out like two big balloons.
"George, don't you have a girlfriend?" she queried, busying herself with small chores in the kitchen and living room. She meant nothing by the question and asked it only to get the conversation rolling.
"No, Miss Willis, I...."
"Call me Joan," she said, coming back into the kitchen and smiling at him.
"Girls and I haven't always made the best of friends," he continued, watching Joan's every movement, the drink growing warm in his hand from neglect-and his body heat. He still had that strange feeling between his legs, but didn't quite understand what it was.
"Do you mean you've never been out with a girl?"
"Never have, Joan. In fact, I've never...."
She had an idea of what he was going to say, but felt he was probably too embarrassed to say it.
"Never what, George?"
"Oh, it doesn't matter," he replied, staring at the soda in his hand.
"It might," Joan said, sitting in a chair opposite him and leaning forward. Her large boobs sat sexily on top of the table and the halter, while covering most of the smooth skin, still left plenty of cleavage for the boy to stare at-and he was certainly staring!
"Tell me what you started to say," Joan nudged, breaking the boy's trance.
"Uh. Oh. No, Joan, really. I'd rather not talk about it."
She looked at him, wondering if she should broach the subject. She didn't want to embarrass him or hurt his feelings, but she was interested.
"George, have you ever gone all the way with a girl?" There. She had asked it. And it hadn't been as hard to do as she had thought.
The boy looked at her, then dropped his eyes to the floor. He felt that Joan was really a friend and believed he could rely on her not to repeat anything he said.
"No," he mumbled, hardly speaking above a whisper.
An untouched, uninitiated boy-a virgin! Joan was rather surprised. After all, George was eighteen years old. Most boys his age had already lost their cherries.
"George," she said, calmly, understanding his situation, "I don't want to embarrass you, but why are you afraid of women?"
"I don't know," he answered, inhaling deeply, gathering up his courage. "I really don't know. I guess it's because of the way the boys at school talk, about scoring with this girl and that girl. From the way they talk, I don't believe there's a girl in school who hasn't ... hasn't...."
"Hasn't gone to bed with a boy?" she finished.
He nodded. "I think that's what holds me back. Since I haven't been with a girl, at least, all the way, I guess I'm afraid they'd laugh at me, or I wouldn't know what to do."
He looked at her and suddenly became very quiet. Joan saw that his face had turned slightly pink and realized he hadn't meant to tell her as much as he had.
"George, where are your parents?"
"They're in town, doing some shopping. Won't be back until late this evening. Why?"
She looked at him. Would it be right to initiate a virgin? The idea of sex with a boy who had never before touched a girl caused a warm feeling to emerge between her slender legs. They had plenty of time, and if there was anyone who could teach him the right way to make love, it was Joan Willis!
"Come with me," she instructed, rising from the chair and taking his hand.
The boy obeyed without question. He watched the bewitching sway of her hips in the tight shorts as they walked to the bedroom. Once inside, Joan closed the blinds, then turned to him.
"Take off your clothes, George."
The boy stood in the center of the room, staring wide-eyed at her. He didn't know what to do. Realizing he might be embarrassed, Joan reached up and untied her halter. When her tits were exposed, the boy's orbs almost bugged out of his head. She could see beads of perspiration pop out on his forehead. She also noticed a small bulge in his pants.
When she took off her shorts and panties and stood naked before him, the boy put his hand on his crotch and squeezed. Then, looking at Joan, he quickly pulled it away.
"Don't worry, George. That feeling is perfectly natural. Now, take off your clothes."
This time the boy didn't hesitate. He was slow and deliberate as he undressed, never taking his eyes off that beautiful, enticing body.
When they were both nude, Joan saw that his prick was of pretty good size. He still had some growing years, but for now, he certainly had nothing to be ashamed of. His nut-sac, never before emptied during a sex act, was full and hung low. The light hair around his stiffening rod was short and curly.
"George," Joan said, looking him over, "for a slender boy, you're built quite well. From what I see, you shouldn't worry about not being able to satisfy a girl. Now, do you want me to show you how it's done?"
The young boy was licking his lips, his cock getting harder and harder, and he couldn't take his eyes off her near-perfect figure. He had never seen a living and breathing girl naked before, but didn't believe that many looked any better than she did.
"Uh...." was all he could utter.
Joan took him by the hand and pulled him to the bed. No sooner was she on her back than he followed his natural instincts and headed for her pussy, trying to climb between her legs.
"Hold up, George. That comes later. Right now, I'm going to show you how to really turn a girl on, make her want you, to cause her all kinds of sensations. By the time I'm finished, you'll probably be able to put most of those other high-school boys to shame. Maybe even the girls will flock after you"
"You think you can do that?" he asked, his eyes bright.
"I'll certainly try. Now, here, come and lie beside me."
The boy, like an obedient student, did as his teacher asked. Once on the bed, Joan took him in her arms and they kissed. He needed very little instruction in that area, she could see, and continued with the next phase.
"George, a woman's breasts are very sensitive areas, especially the pink tips. A man, or boy, who can handle them the right way can make a woman do just about anything he wants her to, and give her an awful lot of pleasure. The secret, though, is not to be rough. Gentle and slow is the way to success in lovemaking.
"Now, with your fingers, slowly and easily run over the mounds, but don't touch the tips, not yet."
The teenager did as he was told and Joan saw that he had a delicate touch, a point in his favor. She had a good student to work with and could visualize that in time he would become quite a lover. She lay on her back for several minutes, letting him touch and caress her big knockers. Then, she was ready to move on.
"Okay, George, that sets the stage. Now, suck on the pink tips, but don't bite them. Suck like you would on a piece of candy."
The boy leaned over and took one of the nipples in his mouth. Damn, he's good, she thought, closing her eyes and thrilling at this young boy, her virgin, playing with her tits. She could feel the heat building up in her joy box.
"George," she said, not wanting to show too much emotion, "run your tongue lightly over the tips, then suck some more. Alternate like that for a while.
His touch sent her head reeling. This eighteen-year-old was really lighting her fire. She was the teacher, but was receiving thrills beyond her wildest dreams. She didn't touch his body, which she would normally have done under such circumstances. She wanted him to learn his role in sex. Her participation would come later-but not much later, the way he was building her up.
"Stop for a minute, George," she said, her head dizzy from his playing. "Again, with your fingers, play with the hair on my mound, then gently put your hand between my legs."
While the boy was doing that, she looked at her tits. The pink tips were standing straight up and were hard. He had done a good-no, an outstanding-job on them.
Joan watched as he toyed with the soft, downy hair on her mound and then moved his hand to her crotch. When his fingers touched the sensitive cunt lips, she almost blew her cork. Shivers ran through her body and it was all she could do to keep from coming.
"I'd like you to move between my legs, George," she suggested, spreading, anxious for him to play with her pussy.
She saw that his dick was now steel-hard and sticking straight out. But he was paying little attention to that, being far more interested in this love goddess who was initiating him into the wonderful world of sex.
"Can you see the lips?" she asked, almost panting, once he was between her shapely gams.
"Yes," he replied, entranced by everything about her body, especially that dark, secretive hole he had heard and read so much about, and was now finally seeing.
"Play with the lips like you were before. Be easy, though, and don't rush."
Joan lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. She placed her hands on her stomach and when he again touched the cunt lips, she almost grabbed her tits. It took the greatest willpower to keep from coming and she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold off. The more those inexperienced, yet seemingly expert, fingers manipulated her pussy, the weaker her resistance became, and her skin began to twitch and her hips jerked when he was extra-tantalizing.
"George," she said, breathing heavily, her eyes glazed, "I'm ... I'm afraid you've done a better job than I expected."
"What do you mean?" he asked, his hand resting on her box opening.
"Shove your finger into the hole and I'll show you. Move it around once it's inside."
The instant his digit entered her boiling furnace, she lifted her hips and moaned. Her floodgate opened and her hands flew to her boobs. She cupped the marvelous globes, which pushed the pink, hard nipples up in the air. She grunted quietly as her orgasm peaked and flowed through her body, rushing back to a joyous conclusion in her wet pussy.
"Oh. Ah. Oh, boy. Ummm." She was ecstatic with relief as her climax came to a halt. The boy had brought her into a crescendo just with a finger. Yes, he was going to make one helluva lover!
When her body was still, she moved her hands from her tits and rested them on her stomach. Opening her eyes, she looked at the boy and smiled.
"You just came, didn't you?" he asked.
"Yes," she happily replied. "You know what that means, then."
"I've heard boys talking about it, and read about it in books."
"Okay, George," she said, her breathing ebbing, "now it's time for you to experience that great feeling. You weren't lying, were you, when you said you had never gone all the way with a girl?"
"No, honest."
"Good." She wanted to keep her eyes open and watch the expression on his face when he came inside a woman's vagina for the first time.
"Climb on top of me," she instructed. The boy did as he was told and lay flat on her.
"Not that way," she said, feeling his stiff pole pressed against her cunt and his full weight on her body. "Support yourself with your arms. You're too heavy to lie on top of a girl that way."
When he was in the correct position, Joan continued.
"I'll guide your penis in for you. But most of the time, you'll have to do it yourself. Okay, are you ready?"
"Uh-huh," he answered, his head covered with perspiration, his every muscle tense.
When he felt the warmth of her wet cunt wrap around his cock like a loving glove, he experienced sensations he had never felt before. He closed his eyes and, through instinct alone, pushed his prick farther into her hole, thinking it was the greatest feeling he had ever known. When he was as far in her as he could get, he stayed there, not moving, wrapped up in the wonderful thrill of his very first fuck.
Joan saw the expression on his face and could imagine the ecstasy he was going through. She had experienced the same thing many years earlier. Even today, after having many men climb in her saddle, she still felt the same way about sex.
"All right, George, start pumping in and out. Go slow. You'll speed up later, but you'll know when it's time."
"Okay," he said, his voice filled with delight, "but it feels so good like this that I hate to move."
Joan smiled. This boy was going to be another lover of sex.
"I understand," she said, running her fingers over his slightly hairy chest, "but I think you'll be surprised at how good your penis feels when you start moving it in and out."
Joan wasn't concerned about him ramming it in her too hard; his prick wasn't that long. She would let him push it in just as deep as he wanted.
Once George started screwing, she saw an expression of pure passion cross his face. He had his eyes closed and rocked easily on his arms. His head swam from the sensation his young body felt. His initial fuck was one he would long remember, and he would never forget his sexual initiator.
"How does that feel?" she asked.
"Great. Fantastic. Out of this world." He never opened his eyes, content to let his cock slide in and out of that delightful, sensational, wonderful hole.
As with most boys when they first meet up with sex, George was soon pumping faster and faster, his emotions already to the apex and just about over the edge.-Joan wanted to climax with him, so she wrapped her legs around his waist and humped into him. This almost drove the young boy crazy. He grunted and groaned and rammed his cock into her pussy as hard and as fast as he could. Knowing he was on the brink of his first unloading, Joan pushed into him and rubbed her crotch against his body. That was the coup de grace for her.
The thrill of having a virgin inside her, of him coming and filling her pussy with his fresh cream, excited her no end. When she tightened her legs around his waist and humped into him, her orgasm burst forth and caused her body to tremble. Usually she closed her eyes whenever she had a climax, but this time she kept them open. She felt George's fresh, young cum explode into her box like a gigantic flood. She had to watch the expression on his face as he had his premier unloading experience.
She forgot that her climax was ebbing. She looked at the young boy and saw his countenance become distorted, almost as if in pain, as he shot off his love juice. He grunted and groaned with each spurt and humped his body into hers.
When he was finished, he almost fell on top of Joan. She could barely hold him up, but did manage to struggle enough to get him onto his back beside her. She waited a minute or so until his heavy breathing subsided. While she waited, she looked at him. His stomach rose and fell rapidly as he gasped for air. Looking at his wet, shrunken dick, she saw that it was lying peacefully on his now empty nut-sac.
"Well, George," she finally asked, "how did you like your first experience in making love?"
"Joan," he replied, breathing heavily, "I never knew anything could feel so good. It was fantastic! Now I know what those boys were talking about, and why they're always going on about sex."
"So you don't think it's going to be just a one-time fling for you, huh?" Joan joked.
"No way!" he emphasized, opening his eyes and looking at her. "No way!"
They lay side by side and held hands for half an hour or so, with George asking questions and Joan answering them truthfully and without embarrassment. This one time was all George needed. Already he seemed like a different person. He was not hesitant in any way about asking questions. He now had a confidence he had never possessed before. He was no longer a virgin. He had screwed a girl or, rather, a woman-and what a woman!
"You're a young stud," Joan said, leaning over him, "you should be ready to go again."
"I don't know if I am or not, Joan. How can I tell?"
Without reply, she put a hand on his cock and stroked it a couple of times. It shot straight up in the air.
"Does that answer your question?" she asked, smiling.
The boy grinned, proudly.
Joan straddled his body and slowly eased herself down on his young, stiff rod. When she was all the way down, she leaned forward, letting her tits hang above his head. Then she sat upright, forcing his prick into her pussy as deeply as it would go. It didn't touch the far end of her box, but she thrilled at it just being in there. She cupped her tits and pointed them at the teenager lying under her.
George stared at the large melons as if in a trance. He put his hands on her stomach and slowly moved up her body. When he reached her boobs, she pulled her hands away and he put his own on the fleshy globes. Massaging them slowly, he "twisted his body, causing his cock to move around inside Joan. She closed her eyes and reveled in his rubbing her tits and moving his dick inside her snizz. He learns well and fast, she thought to herself. He's already heating me up.
Leaning forward, she let her tits dangle where the boy could suckle them. Taking a mound in each hand, he sucked the pink tips, first one, then the other. Joan closed her eyes again as she slowly rode his cock, joyously feeling it rub against her wet cunt lips and sliding along the walls of her super-heated oven.
She continued doing this for quite a while and all the time George never let her tits out of his hands, or his mouth. Joan felt like he had sucked the nipples so much that they must have grown two or three inches. And she was enjoying every suck, every touch of his tongue on those sensitive glands on the very tips.
Her cunt felt it, too, because it wasn't long before she was riding his staff harder and faster. When she felt her climax starting to erupt, she sat down on his body, forcing his cock deep inside her, and covered her tits with her hands. She pressed hard against the globes and grunted as she had another orgasm.
"Ummm. Ah. Ummm. Ummm." Her tongue flicked at the red lips and she pressed harder against her tits. "Oh, boy. Ummm. Ummm. Good."
She twisted her body on his, making his prick touch the walls of her flaming inferno. She had to have one more climax before she quit, so she humped on his dick, forcing it to press against the inside of her gash. It worked!
"Oh. Another one." She closed her eyes, her mouth flew open, and her hands pressed even harder against her knockers.
When she was finished, she felt the boy's cock still inside her, hard and anxious to unload the second time in his brief young sex life.
"Are you about ready?" she asked, looking down at the boy.
"Uh-huh."
She rose from his cock and positioned herself on her hands and knees.
"Get on your knees and enter me from behind."
George mounted Joan and pushed his hungry prick into her juicy slot. New at this intriguing, delightful game of sex, he didn't know that the dog-fashion position permitted his joy stick to penetrate deeper into a woman's cunt than the more conventional face-to-face position.
When he shoved his teenage porker into the wet hole and felt it slide even farther, he almost screamed with joy. It excited him so much that he began pounding into her fast and furious. Knowing he was anxious to come, Joan let him ram her as hard as he could. To help him along, she reached between her legs and took his sac in her hand. She no sooner touched his testicles than she felt him drive into her as deep as he could and stay there.
When his juice painted her walls, Joan squeezed his balls and made him ejaculate even more. George was delirious. He closed his eyes and his head swam. He opened them and the room was moving. It seemed like every ounce of fluid in his body was being drained from his soul. But he enjoyed the hell out of it!
The final part of Joan's plan did not require that George's cock be hard. So, after he had rested a few minutes, she spoke.
"George, there's another way that girls can get a thrill, and it's probably the best, next to the way we've just done it."
"How's that?"
"You might not be willing to do it."
"Joan, after what you've done to me, and the way you've made me feel, I'D do anything you ask. Anything. Besides, I want to learn as much as I can."
"Okay," she said spreading her legs and putting a pillow under her hips. "Move down to where you're between my legs, facing me."
When he was in position, George looked at the matted hair surrounding that magnificent cunt. God, it's glorious! he shouted inwardly. Fantastic! He couldn't find enough words to describe it.
"This is called eating a girl. Have you ever heard the expression?"
"Oh, sure," he replied, his eyes affixed to her joy box.
"All right," she said, spreading even wider, "move to where your head is at the opening. Lick the lips, suck on them, then push your tongue in and out."
George followed his orders to the letter. As with her tits, he was slow and gentle, pulling the tender lips into his mouth and sucking and chewing on them. When he ran his tongue over the sensitive clitoris, Joan moaned and lay back, closed her eyes, and cupped her tits. He was going to send her into orbit, and she knew it.
The boy was an extremely fast learner and put his tongue just inside her steaming box and licked at the juice. Joan saw constellations and her body became hotter and hotter. Her hips began to move and low sounds came from deep in her throat. When he pushed his tongue into her twat and moved it around, she grunted loudly and humped into him. He ate her like a starved animal, licking the lips, then pushing his tongue inside and reaming her walls. Next, he sucked on the lips and gently chewed the sensitive clit, which Joan pointed out was much like his own penis ... but tinier, of course.
Joan was wild. She moaned almost continuously and squeezed and pulled at the nipples of her tits. The more he plowed his oral finger into her boiling cavern, the more she humped into his face. He had built her up in a hurry and she was ready to explode.
Quickly wrapping her slender legs around his head, she pushed her box into his face and coated his tongue. This was all new to the teenager and he didn't know what to do. Again, instinct took over and he lapped at the warm fluid as it flowed over his tongue. Not only did he do the right thing, but he did it so well that he caused Joan to hit another orgasm. Her body jerked and she squeezed her tits hard as the climax sparked every nerve in her body.
Later, as they dressed, Joan talked about sex to the newly-initiated boy.
"George, what I've shown you today doesn't even scrape the surface. As you grow older and have more experiences, you'll find new ways to do things-new positions, new methods-and new ways to thrill women. But, regardless of the future, I don't think you'll have any problems with them. Just remember, go slow and easy, be gentle. That does more to intrigue and build up us females than anything else you can do."
"Joan," he said, total sincerity in his voice, as he stepped out of the apartment, "if I live to be a hundred years old, I'll never forget you, or what you taught me today. I mean it."
After Joan closed the door, she heard him whistle as he walked down the hall. She smiled to herself. Little did her pupil realize that he had brought a settling effect to her body. She had needed a man inside her and while he may not have been very big, he made up in eagerness what he lacked in length.
Maybe someday, when he'd be older and bigger, their paths might cross again. She would like to see what he'd learn in the next few years.
CHAPTER EIGHT
How good was Joan's instruction? How well did George learn?
About ten days after his initial indoctrination into the beautiful arena of sex, the teacher and the student happened to meet in the apartment hallway.
"Joan," George began, whispering, but in an excited voice, "I've got to tell you. Three or four days after you and I ... after we ... well, you know what I mean. Anyway, I had my first girl. Besides you, I mean."
He was so excited and anxious to tell her the news that she had to slow him down so she could understand.
"Take it easy, George," she laughed. "You're going to blow your mind."
"Sorry," he said, but continued to talk. "Anyway, I met this girl in school who every boy had tried to make, but not many had, at least from what I understand. She's not a virgin, though. I found that out myself."
"Well, well, well," Joan smiled. "Looks like you now have it made."
"Oh, yeah. I just followed some of the tricks you showed me and that girl went crazy. When we were through, she hung onto me like I was the greatest ever. Evidently, she let the word out, because three or four other girls-friends of hers-have been talking to me lately, making hints about us getting together. All kinds of good things."
Joan had a triumphant smile on her face as she watched George walk down the hall. What used to be a shy, quiet boy was now a confident, outgoing teenager.
Hmmm, she thought, as she strolled to her apartment. Wonder if I could set up a school for the instruction of untapped teenage boys? Don't know how the market would be, but there would certainly be a helluva lot of fun in it-for me! She laughed loudly as she turned on the shower, undressed, and stepped into the warm water.
Joan was to go through a strange yet, in the end, rewarding two days. Del Peterson, after a three-week absence, had finally returned to the agency. Joan was so glad to see him that she almost threw her arms around his neck right there in the office. Restraining herself, though, she escorted him into his office. Once inside, he pulled her to him and they kissed, long and lovingly, a kiss that expressed his joy at seeing her, just as much as she had missed him.
Joan and Del were unable to consummate their reunion, at least, not right away. The agency's reputation was one of the fastest rising in the city. New clients flocked to its doors and a heavy workload was being suffered by all employees, especially Del. He was busily interviewing and hiring new admen, but couldn't keep ahead of the work. He had wanted to take the weekend off so he and Joan could go to the beach house. But no sooner had he returned to Los Angeles than he was scheduled for a series of meetings that extended into the weekend.
The desire for some time alone was felt even more by Joan. His absence had affected her greatly, more than she ever realized it would.
Oh, she had had sex with George and he had turned her on. And the married client who didn't want intercourse had given her a few treats. But Del, she now felt, was the only man who could really satisfy her in every way-sexual happiness, companionship, security. Everything a woman wanted, he possessed. She knew it, and wanted to talk with him about their future, if they had one together, and learn how he felt about her.
Knowing they would not be able to be alone for the coming weekend, Joan left the office Friday afternoon in a dejected mood. Seldom were her spirits ever down, but they were at an all-time low as she parked her car and trudged up the stairs to her empty apartment.
Joan took a shower, dried off and slipped into a robe. She started to prepare something to eat, had it half-done, then threw it on the counter.. She wasn't hungry. She sat on the sofa, gazing at the darkness coming through the large picture window. Several times Joan started for the phone to call Del, but each time she hesitated. She knew he was busy in conference even at this late hour. Perhaps she was being unfair to him. After all, he did have a business to run, customers to take care of and employees depending on him. No, she'd wait, until a better time. She knew there would be days for them. She would have to wait.
Joan turned on the television and sat down on the couch. One of show business's greatest comedians was on the air, but his jokes were lost on the lonely figure sitting hunched on the big, overstuffed sofa. Her eyes were on the program, but her mind was five miles away, at the Peterson Agency, on Del. Even the doorbell, when it sounded, couldn't bring her out of her reverie. Finally, after the third or fourth ring, it broke the trance. Jumping up, she hurried to the door. Maybe it's Del!
Disappointment plainly showed on her face when she saw Bill Garrison standing there.
"Hey, beautiful," he said, noticing the strange look on her face. "I'm not Satan, you know."
"You might as well be," she commented, disgustedly. "What do you want?"
"I came by to check your plumbing," he replied, pushing past her and walking into the room.
"My plumbing's fine," she said, slamming the door. "Bill, why don't you get the hell out of here! Where's your wife, anyway? Don't you think you should be with her?"
"The little lady has gone to town, to a meeting at her church. She won't be back for hours. We have all kinds of time to...."
"I don't want all kinds of time, Bill, for anything. I want to be alone. So, please, just go."
Garrison was having none of that. He had come here for a purpose and he intended to have what he came after. Walking to the window, he pulled the heavy drapes closed. There was no way anyone could see in.
"Don't talk like that, Joan," he said, smiling lustfully at her, undressing as he did. "After all, I'm the man who knows how to turn you on, remember? I can make your body beg for my dick, and don't you forget it."
He was naked now, and she could see he was ready for bed-rolling. His cock was straight out and the large purple head seemed to be aching for satisfaction. He stepped closer and untied the robe covering her beautiful body.
"I never get tired of looking at you, Joan," he said, seriously, "with or without clothes."
He pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. She felt his hard core press against her mound, but did not respond in any way. When he finally broke away, he took a tit in each hand and massaged the huge melons. Even when he ran a finger over the sensitive tips, she didn't respond.
Joan realized that this was unusual for her.
Normally, she would at least be feeling a sensation between her legs, but nothing had happened. She knew her mood wasn't the best for lovemaking, but thought her body would eventually respond to him. It wouldn't be through her own willingness, because she was more turned off by him tonight than she had been the other time, but through the emotional reaction of her body, which was naturally hot.
Joan didn't fight him. Let him do what he wants, she told herself. Let him build me up so I'll join in and fuck right along with him. Who gives a damn. Anyway, when he's finished, then he'll leave.
Bill steered her to the couch and placed her on her back. He leaned over and sucked her tits, at the same time letting his fingers travel through the downy hair between her legs, and onto the cunt lips. Joan closed her eyes and waited for her body to begin heating.
Garrison worked for five or ten minutes on the tantalizing creature, but got no response. Joan was amazed that by this time her body wasn't leaping and humping all over the place. He was doing everything that usually turned her on-sucking her nipples, fingering her cunt-everything. She didn't respond to any of it. She just lay there, limp and disinterested.
He had succeeded in getting her box wet, and climbed between her shapely legs. Spreading them far apart, he laid his stiff prick at the opening to paradise and pushed onward. Joan grunted as his big tool slid into her box. She didn't even lift her hips, however, as his dick slid along her walls and stopped only when it banged against the far end of her cunt.
Having reached his goal, Bill pumped slowly and evenly, bringing the head of his hard penis all the way out to the lips, and then ramming it home. Joan, her eyes closed, grunted each time his prick hit against the end of her love channel. Regardless of her lack of response, it didn't take him long to shoot off. He shoved his porker all the way in, as far as he could get it, and painted her walls. Joan felt the fluid spray her snatch, but didn't even open her eyes. She continued to lie there, motionless, unresponsive as his jizz filled her snizz to the brim.
Bill pulled his shriveled cock from her flooded hole. Looking at her, he was surprised to find her body quiet, her eyes closed, and not the slightest reaction to his balling her. He thought he could still get her in the mood, so he buried his face between her gams and nibbled her cunt lips.
Joan knew that his south-side action would surely bring her body to the boiling point. He sucked the labia, pulled them into his mouth and chewed on them, then darted his tongue in and out of her wet hole. Nothing. After five minutes of what would normally be torture for the hot-natured girl, Joan was still lying there, silently, unmoving, as if she were immune to his love play.
Bill, realizing his muff-munching was getting him nowhere, moved from the couch. Wiping his face, he stood in the center of the room and looked at the gorgeous, naked figure spread out before him.
"What the hell's wrong with you, woman? I've done everything I can and you still lie there, like two damn boards pushed together."
For the first time, Joan opened her eyes and stared at him.
"That should tell you something. You got what you wanted. Why don't you put on your clothes. Your wife will be back soon. Maybe she can respond to you."
"You're damn right, I will, you bitch," he said, angrily grabbing his pants and shirt. "You're not the only piece of ass in this town."
He continued mumbling as he dressed. Joan paid little attention to him. She reached over and picked up the robe from the floor. Covering her body, she looked at him as he stomped toward the door.
"Bill," she said, "this is the last time you'll come in this apartment unless I ask you to. Understand?"
"Sure, baby, sure," he replied, not believing her. "Don't worry. I didn't mean to blow my top. I'll come back again, when you're in a better mood."
He turned and started for the door. This time, the tone of her voice stopped him in his tracks. He didn't even turn as she spoke.
"I mean it, Bill. You've climbed on top of me for the last time. There will be no more, regardless of what mood I'm in. Understand it-and remember it."
Her words were firm, determined, strong. Garrison knew she meant what she said. He had had his last piece of ass from Joan Willis. Without replying, he slowly opened the door and stepped into the hall, closing the door quietly behind him.
Joan stayed on the couch, with the lights out, staring into the darkness. The mystery of why she had not responded to Bill, despite her dislike for the man, puzzled her. Could it be that she was losing interest in sex? Were men beginning to turn her off?
These and many other questions fogged her mind as Joan slowly, almost reluctantly, dropped off into a fitful sleep, there on the couch, covered only by her robe.
It was eight-thirty before Joan awakened the following morning. A small ray of sunshine peeked through a slit in the heavy drapes that Bill had closed the night before. She lay there several minutes, staring at the beam of light as it made a pattern on the plush pile carpet.
Her mind went back to last night, to Bill Garrison, to her lack of response to him. Why? Why had she been unable to react to his love play? Never in her life had she been able to resist a man sucking her nipples. And when anyone ate her pussy, no matter who, she went wild, humping, groaning, grunting. Yet, last night, nothing; an absolute zero. Why?
When an image of Del Peterson appeared in her mind, she thought she had found the answer. Jumping from the couch, she put on her robe and hurried to the telephone. Dialing his apartment, she heard the phone ring a dozen times or more, but no answer. Then it crossed her mind. He had another conference this morning at the office.
She hated to bother him there, during business, and was probably silly for doing so. But her mind was boggled. She had to get her senses straight. She had to find out if what she was feeling deep down was real. She dialed the office and had to use all her clout to get put through to him.
Her heart almost stopped when she heard his voice.
"Del," she said, trying to be as calm as possible, "I know you're in conference, and I hate to bother you...."
"Joan? I have a couple of people here talking about some ads they want for a new television spot. Hold on and I'll go to your desk."
"Del," she said, apologetically, feeling better just hearing his voice, "I really shouldn't be bothering you like this, especially now. I'll talk to you later."
"Hush, and don't you dare hang up that phone. I'll be on the other line in a few seconds."
His voice was kind, gentle. She smiled as she waited to hear him speak again.
"Okay, sweet stuff," he said, "what do you have on that beautiful mind of yours?"
Clients be damned! She could tell that he would sit there all day and talk to her if she wanted. Tears came to her eyes.
"Del, do you think there's any way we could get to the beach house this weekend? I want to talk to you."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line and fear crept into Joan's heart. Was she pushing? Had she misjudged Del?
"Del, are you there?"
"Yes, Joan, I'm here. Listen, I'm going to call Chuck Dearing and have him take care of the people I have here now. Do you still have your key to the house?"
"Yes, Del, but I don't want to pull you away from business. I know how...."
"Joan," he interrupted in a firm voice, "I did a lot of thinking while I was in New York, and I want to talk to you, too. I want ... Honey, there's too much to go into on the phone. Go on to the beach house. As soon as I can get Chuck over here, I'll leave. But I'll have to brief him, so I might not be able to leave for another hour or two. You go ahead, and I'll get there as soon as I can."
"Okay, Del," she replied, feeling much better already. "But hurry."
"You know I will," he answered, in a tender, yet anxious, voice. "Oh, by the way."
"Yes?"
"Stop on the way and pick up a few groceries for the weekend. Okay?"
"You bet," she said, happily.
Joan raced to the shower and scrubbed like she had never scrubbed before. She wanted all traces of Bill Garrison removed from her body. If there had been a way to wash the interior of her pussy to rid it of any hint that he had ever filled her box with semen, she would have washed there, too.
Once finished with the shower, Joan packed a few things in a small overnight bag, looked around the apartment, then headed for the door. Stopping with her hand on the knob, she returned to the bedroom, opened the closet door, and pulled out the sexy, sheer nightgown she had worn that one night she and Del had spent at the beach house. Folding it carefully, she packed it on top of the other items, closed the case and locked the door behind her as she left the apartment.
CHAPTER NINE
Joan drove with the windows open. The gentle wind blew the silky hair away from her beautiful face. She was in a very happy and excited mood. She listened to the radio and changed stations when anything but light, gay music came over the air. She was in no mood to listen to world, national or local problems. While just a few short hours ago she had awakened in a very disturbed, somber and dejected frame of mind, now she was gleeful, happy and anxious to be with Del.
She stopped at the same small grocery store she and Del had stopped at on their first trip to the beach. If there had been any doubt in her mind that Del was the reason for her feeling of happiness, it was dispelled in the grocery store.
Two young, well-built, extremely handsome surfers came into the store. Joan was dressed in tight shorts and a halter that did nothing to cover her natural assets. There was no way any man could ignore the enticement of her figure, the beauty of her face. And these young men were no exception. They did everything they could but stand on their heads to attract her attention.
While not ignoring them, Joan paid no heed to their flirtations. Normally, she felt flattered at the attention men gave her and would at least reward their efforts with a smile. But not this time. She didn't even look at the boys. Instead, she paid the bill and left. When she stepped into her car, they came over and tried to start a conversation. Without being rude, she waved them off.
"Sorry, fellows. I have an important engagement. Avery important engagement."
With that, she put the car in gear and drove back onto the highway, leaving the two very disappointed surfers in her dust.
It was one o'clock when Joan arrived at the beach house. Opening the door, she first put the groceries away, then went through the house and opened all the windows. She wanted everything fresh when Del arrived. She guessed that with any luck, he should be there around three.
Joan fixed a drink and sat on the porch, overlooking the ocean. She watched the water come in and go out, making strange formations in the sand. The salt air smelled refreshing, especially after the heavy smog of Los Angeles. Looking at her watch, she saw that it was only one-thirty. Damn, at least another hour-and-a-half. God, she wished he would get there. She was so anxious to see him, be with him, hold him, talk to him. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car door slamming.
No. It couldn't be. Not already.
She stepped to the corner of the house and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the ruggedly handsome man of her life walking toward the house.
Del beamed and waved when he saw her. Damn, she's a good-looking woman, he thought, almost tripping on the steps because he couldn't take his eyes off her. The tight shorts and revealing halter he had noticed, but he also realized he was looking more at her face, at those penetrating, dark brown eyes. He was looking at her as a person, as a woman, a woman he very much cared for. And he was looking at her less as a sex symbol, someone to go to bed with.
They hugged and kissed, a meeting of love and endearment. Their bodies pushed against each other, but not passionately. Instead, it was an emotion of caring, concern.
"I didn't expect you this early," she said, wrapping her arm around his as they walked to the porch. She had another chair ready for him.
"As luck would have it," he replied, plopping into the chair, "Chuck walked into the office just as I hung up the phone after talking to you. I told him I wanted him to handle the clients we had in the office.
"I also told him," he continued, looking at Joan, his hand on hers, "that from now on, I would be turning more and more of the business over to him and to John Kincaid. And do you know what my bright assistant manager said to me?"
"No, what?" she queried, really interested.
"He said that it was about time, that I was working myself into an early grave. And that he knew damn well he could handle the ac counts as well as anyone, hinting, of course, that he could do the job as well as the boss."
"What did you say?"
"Not a damn thing," he chuckled. Oh how she loved to hear that infectious laugh. "Because I realized he was almost telling the truth."
"Almost?"
"Yes. He can't handle the campaigns as well as the boss, and he damn well knows it. He's good, but not that good. Not yet."
She smiled at him. He was confident, not arrogant, and she knew he was kidding.
"Does this mean," she asked, squeezing his hand, hopefulness in her voice, "that you'll be able to ease off now, and take things a little easier?"
"Well," he grinned, "it looks like my assistant has pretty well seen to that."
Gazing at her, he suddenly turned serious.
"Joan, would you fix me a drink while I gather my thoughts?"
"Of course. The usual?"
"Please."
She prepared the drink, returned to the porch and gave it to him, then sat down. She noticed that he had pulled her chair closer to his. Del looked into his glass for several seconds, swirling the liquid and ice cubes before he spoke. His voice was low, somber, meaningful.
"Joan, when I was in New York for those three weeks, I did a lot of thinking. You were on my mind every single day I was there. I thought about the years we've been together, how much we've meant to one another, our meetings in my office, and here at the beach house."
"Del, I...."
"Please, honey," he interrupted, squeezing her hand, "let me finish. What I'm about to say might influence what you're wanting to tell me."
Joan smiled and nodded.
"Plain and simple, I missed you like I've never missed a woman before. Oh, I missed going to bed with you, I won't deny it. Sex is a natural part of the human relationship. But I was lonely for more than that. When I got back to Los Angeles and walked into the office that first morning, you were like a breath of fresh air. I wanted to grab you and hug you and never let you go. Joan, I missed the hell out of you, and don't want to be in that position again.
"That's part of the reason, a big part," he continued, again looking at the glass in his hand, "that I turned the new clients over to Chuck. I had almost made a decision to do just that while in New York. Your phone call this morning, the sound of your voice, made it a final decision."
He quit talking and looked at her. Smiling, he placed his large, rough hand over her small, smooth one.
"I want more time to spend with you, Joan. Do you understand what I mean?"
"Yes," she replied, gazing deeply into his eyes, placing her other hand on top of his. "Yes, I know exactly what you mean."
"Now," he said, setting his empty glass on the porch railing and looking at her, "what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
"There's no reason for talk, now," she replied.
"What do you mean?"
"The words you just said were, in a way, what I wanted to say to you. I don't want you going to New York, or anywhere else, for weeks on end, without me. I don't want you working yourself into an early grave. I want you to take things easier, enjoy yourself more and spend more time with me. I'm going to be on you like bark on a tree, Del. You're going to change your lifestyle so you can see more of life. You've worked hard all these years; now it's time to reap some of the benefits."
"You're beginning to sound like a nagging wife," he teased.
"Is that so bad?"
"From you, no," he smiled, putting his hand on her face. "Say, how about a swim?"
"I have an idea for something better," she grinned, impishly, a twinkle in her eyes.
Del rose from his chair and pulled her to him. They embraced and then walked into the house, arm-in-arm. Once the two were in the bedroom, passion overtook normal lovemaking and they undressed hurriedly, anxious to relieve erotic emotions that had built up inside them. Del spent little time with foreplay. He sucked her nipples, played with her clit and cunt lips and kissed her on the mouth.
"Del," Joan said, breathlessly, "go ahead. I'm ready to unload."
Last night, Bill Garrison had sucked on her nipples for a long time, fingered her cunt, even eaten her and she wouldn't respond. Here, with Del, in just a few short minutes, she was hot as a firecracker and could feel her floodgate straining to open, to flood forth.
Del was no less anxious. His prick, rock hard, strained to release its storage of white, sticky love juice. He felt the fire in his balls and the pulsating of the large vein on the bottom of his dick. He knew that when he shoved his aching rod into that delicious, delightful hole, it would be a very short time and he'd explode.
They were both right. Del pushed his cock into her waiting, panting, burning cavern and she humped into him immediately. They breathed deeply as he pumped, ramming his rod as far and as deep into her as he could.
It had been a month since they last enjoyed each other this way and were anxious to rid their bodies of pent-up emotions. There would be time later for the more enjoyable foreplay-the touching, the kissing, the petting. But for now....
Del pushed his cock into her hard and deep when he felt his seminal fluid escape from its container. When Joan felt his cum paint her walls, she humped into him wildly, rubbing herself against his body, forcing herself to quickly unleash an orgasm. Grunts and groans of passionate pleasure came from deep within as they released their love potions and clung to one another, their bodies shaking, their lust finally being sated.
They spent the rest of the afternoon in the ocean. And, like kids, they ran, swam, played tag, ducked each other and thoroughly had a good time, laughing and frolicking in the surf. That night, after dinner, they sat in the small living room, talking and planning. When it was time to go to bed, Joan asked Del to wait until she called him in. As with the other time, she went into the room, closed the door and slipped into the sexy nightgown. Del knew what she was doing and waited excitedly for her to beckon him. When she did, he rushed to her side.
"Joan, it should be against the law to be as lovely as you are, and then to be so good in bed."
He took her in his arms and they kissed. When he was undressed and the lights were out, he again took her in his arms.
"Joan, let's make tonight something special. Today has been wonderful for me. I've found the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I'd like to end the day with warm, loving and mutually satisfying love-making."
"I couldn't agree more," she replied, starlight in her eyes, her arms around his neck, her body pushed against his.
He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Gently laying her on her back, he knelt on the bed beside her. Slowly he let his fingers wander over her lovely body. Joan closed her eyes and rubbed him as he worked on her. Del pulled his talented digits across the sensitive tips of her nipples, down over her stomach, and through the dark hair where her legs met. His slightest touch caused her to spread wide. And the closer he came to her joy box, the wider they opened.
It was a delight to be treated this way, especially after her horrid experience with Garrison. Del was so gentle, so kind, and his attitude toward her showed that while he loved having sex with her, he was also enjoying it out of love for her.
Del leaned over and suckled her nipples. Joan moved a hand to the back of his head and ran her fingers through his hair. Cupping the beautiful globes, Del sucked first on one breast, then the other. Each time he shifted his touch, Joan felt a wondrous sensation flow through her body and stop deep in her cunt. She was ready to fuck any time he was.
Her lover moved to her navel, which he tongued for a second or two, then bit into the hairy mound. Joan moaned softly and lifted her hips, only slightly, but enough to let him know she was warming up.
Continuing his travels, Del kissed the inside of her thighs, then moved back to her heavenly haven. Pulling his tongue teasingly across the wet cunt lips made Joan groan louder and lift her hips higher. She reached over and put a hand on his hard dong. Her playing first with the staff and then with his balls caused Del to almost shoot his cookies. But he held off, wanting to build up this beautiful creature to the highest peak he could.
"Uram," Joan murmured, her body reaching for a great climax. She could hardly wait to feel him inside her.
From the way she squeezed his prick and played with his nuts, Del knew she was ready. Positioning himself between her legs, he pushed his anxious cock against her wet, exciting pussy. He kissed her softly on the mouth and Joan reached down and guided his weapon into her love-hole. As his big dick penetrated the entrance, she lifted her hips and threw her arms around his neck.
"Do it good, Del. Make me really enjoy it."
Del lifted himself to where he was supported by his hands and slowly pumped, not ramming as he had earlier. He pulled his prong out to where only its purplish head was inside her box. He moved it in and out an inch or so, letting it tease and tantalize the sensitive cunt lips.
"Oooh, Del, that feels good. Ummm, so good." Joan's eyes were closed and she was wrapped up in his sensual treatment.
No sooner had she said the last word than he slid his big pole all the way home. When it lodged against the far end of her cunt, she inhaled.
"Ah. Oooh. That's even better. Do it again."
Del pulled his cock back and again let it ride the labia. When he slid it all the way in, Joan lifted her hips to meet him. She was as hot as the hottest fire. Her body ached to burst loose, to hit that ever-loving orgasm, but she didn't want to. She wanted him to fuck her more like he was doing. She held off as long as she could.
Del continued sliding his boner along the lips, then pushing it home, never fast, never hard, only allowing it to rub her walls, and sending erotic sensations through every nerve in her body. She was delirious. Her hips moved wildly and she licked her lips. Her arms tightened around his neck and he knew it wouldn't be long before she came.
He leaned over and kissed her lovingly on the lips. Then he sucked on her tits. When he did that, Joan pulled her arms from around his neck and cupped the full melons, lifting the nipples so he could lap and suck them more easily. His magic touch on her boobs sent Joan's senses skyrocketing. There was no holding back now. She threw her legs around his waist and squeezed tightly, at the same time pushing her bush into him, forcing his prick deep into her box.
"Uhhh. Ah." Her body shook frantically as her orgasm peaked. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him to her.
As they kissed, Del shoved his porker in as far as he could, knowing that helped her climax even more. He moved his hips slightly, causing his prick to move around inside her.
"Oooh. Good. Do that ... some ... more. Ummm."
Just as her body seemed to ease off, Del pulled his sex organ almost all the way out, moved the glans over the labia a few times, then shoved it all the way home, making her grunt when the big head pushed against her wall.
"Oh. Ah. Again. You ... you've made me ... come ... again."
She tightened her legs around his waist, shoved her crotch into him and hit another peak. Damn, it felt great. He was wonderful. He could make her shoot off and enjoy it so much better than any other man had ever been able to do..
Joan kissed him passionately, shoving her tongue into his oral cavern and humping against him. Her feverish body was still trembling from the orgasms he had put her through and his stiff, steelhard schlong deep inside her pussy felt so good that even after she could come no more, she kept her gams around his waist, forcing his prick to stay all the way inside her.
Finally, she loosened her grip and dropped her legs to the bed. Breathing heavily, with her arms still around his neck, she opened her eyes. Moonlight from the window allowed just enough light so she could make out his face, while he could see hers clearly.
Joan had a look of complete contentment. A satisfying smile started at the corners of her mouth and covered her entire face. Del was her lover. If there had been any doubt, it was gone. Other men, not including Bill Garrison, had thrilled her with their lovemaking, but Del Peterson was in a class by himself.
"Del, that was good," she said, gazing dreamily at him as he started pumping again.
"Only for you," he replied softly. "Only for you, the special treat."
Joan let her fingers roam his body as he continued to fuck. The slow, easy drag of his big dick on her cunt walls felt so good even though she wasn't, anywhere near ready to come again. She closed her eyes, moved her hands to his nuts and gently massaged them. Her touch caused Del to moan and shove his dork all the way inside her juice-flooded pussy. When she squeezed his balls, he began balling her faster, ringing her bell with each stroke. When Joan felt his hot, white cream flood into her sex cavern, she grabbed him around the neck and pulled him to her. Lifting her hips so he could penetrate deep and deposit his precious love potion as far into her depths as possible, she kissed him hotly, almost passionately, as if she had been the one who climaxed.
They rested for a long time after that session. Joan had her head on his chest and Del ran his fingers over her body, touching every square inch of the smooth, well-shaped form. Joan barely spoke, feeling so emotionally wrapped up in this man, in his touch, in his lovemaking. She realized that he meant more to her than any other man ever had. She was his slave but, in many ways, he was also hers. They made a good pair, quite a combination.
When they awoke early Sunday morn ing, they decided to make love as much as they could before returning to Los Angeles. And they about wore themselves into a frazzle once the decision was made. Other than for short breaks for breakfast and lunch, the lovers were at each other's body almost constantly. Every time Del's prick became the slightest bit stiff, he was either poking it into Joan's hot, flooded, willing cave, or she was on top of him, riding his rod or sucking him off. And she straddled his face, and he had his head between her legs so much during those few short hours that she knew he must have drained her come tank two-dozen times.
They screwed in every imaginable position. They started with the standard face-to-face, then to dog-fashion; she rode him, he rode her. It was one session after another, and by the time they left, Del was exhausted and washed out. He walked slowly, very slowly, to the car.
"Want me to drive?" Joan asked, skipping up to him, her face filled with a radiance that expressed her true feelings for this man.
They wanted to be together as much as possible for the next few days, and decided to leave her car there. They would pick it up when they returned to the beach, which they had promised themselves they would do quite often.
"You wench," he teased, hugging her. "If you treat me this way every morning after we're married, how in the hell do you think I'll ever be able to work?"
"That's your problem, big shot," she answered, climbing into the passenger side of the car. "Just think what it'll be like after we're married, when we can be together all the time! "
"Oh, my aching back," he said, feigning pain, pulling onto the highway and heading the auto back to the routine and bright lights.
But what a way to go, he thought to himself, eyeing the gorgeous, voluptuous figure sitting next to him. What a helluva way to go!
