Silk, satin, nylon-for many men, they all add up to one thing: turn-on. A recent issue of Playboy included a small item on men being turned on by women's undergarments. It is quite likely that the roots for this particular form of mild fetish can be found in early training and childhood when the majority of us are taught not to show those undergarments-particularly to the opposite sex, and thereby the mystique and fascination is implanted.
Just such a person is Harold, successful businessman trying to single-handedly raise a daughter, only he himself is not aware of this proclivity. It takes his new landlady, a former model and devotee of 'apparel feminique' to bring him out, so to speak, but her design proves to be twofold when he involves his heretofore pure and chaste young daughter in her definitely kinky ideas of fun and games. . . .
It is a story of today; it could happen on your block, and the odds are it quite likely has during contemporary American history.
-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER ONE
"But what was it you two did here in the apartment all afternoon?" Harold asked of his daughter.
Joanie yawned, very widely, and said, "We just talked."
It was six-thirty in the evening and she was already in bed, not too unusual considering the erratic and considerable sleeping needs of a fifteen-year-old girl. Harold often came home from work to find her asleep on the couch, on the floor, in a chair, on her bed, almost always in her street clothes. On this occasion, however, she was under the rumpled covers of her bed and she was wearing the pretty little yellow baby-doll nightie set he'd given her for Christmas. And there was a wide faint smudge of pink all around her plump, pinker lips.
Harold could scarcely control his temper as he said, "Did you drink any of that wine with her?"
"I had a sip," said Joanie, and cut off another yawn as she saw the look on her father's face. "What's wrong with that?" she said. "You always give me a sip of yours."
"I am your father," Harold pointed out. "Mrs. Arden's just the landlady. And drinking wine with the landlady is a lot different from having a sip of it from your father's glass. Why did you bring out the wine to begin with?"
"Because she said she was thirsty." "She must have been thirsty with all the cigarettes she smoked. The ashtray's overflowing. Just what was it you two talked about for so long?" said Harold, still in scant control of his temper.
"Oh, Daddy, why make such a big deal out of it?" said Joanie and slung her arms about his neck. "You know I can't even think when I first wake up. We just talked. And then I was so sleepy I went to bed."
She smelled of childish sleep and faintly of wine, and there was a hint of the smell of perfume there, too. Harold unpeeled her plump little arms from about his neck and held her hands as he frowned and said, "Well, you must have done a lot of talking for her to drink that much wine and smoke that many cigarettes. Why did she come down here to begin with?"
"To see you about something. I don't know. What are you so mad about? Gee, you didn't even kiss me hello."
Harold touched her lips with his, found them softer, warmer than he'd ever remembered. It was hard to be mad at her at any time, and especially at a time like this when she looked so soft and little girlish, with her curly blonde hair in utterly charming disarray and her clear blue eyes still heavy with sleep. Again he took her arms from about his neck, and said, "I'm not mad at you. I'm a little provoked at Mrs. Arden, though. I don't want anyone, landlady or anyone, coming in this apartment and drinking my wine and gabbing the whole afternoon away with you when I'm n here."
"But it was fun," said Joanie, and she lifted her knees up under the covers and hugged them, laid her plump cheek against them, and said, "Do you know what Melba said? She said I ought to be a model."
"Oh, my God," said Harold, and stood up from the bed and began to pace the frilly room, waving his arms. "You, a model? Get that idea right out of your head. I won't have her down here talking nonsense like that. It's not that you aren't a very pretty girl, but it's ridiculous for you to start wanting to be a model. I'm going up and have a talk with her. What was it she wanted to see me about, anyway?"
Joanie shrugged her nearly bare shoulders and, still hugging her knees, said, "I don't know. Do you really think it's ridiculous to want to be a model? Melba sure didn't think so."
"Melba?" said Harold, and stormed out of his daughter's room. He was good and angry. The new owner of the apartment building had absolutely no business putting nonsense in his daughter's head, especially not when she was sitting around drinking up Harold's dinner wine and making the place reek of cigarettes. He ducked his head back inside the door for a parting shot at his daughter, just in time to see her bouncing into the bathroom-without the bottoms of her baby-doll, and with her melon-round buttocks just as bare as they could be. Just what the hell was going on around the place since Mrs. Arden had bought it? Perplexed, Harold found he'd picked up a wineglass and drained it without thinking, and was now gazing down at its rim, well marked with rich red lipstick. He set it down on the coffee table with a bang and slammed out of the apartment to see what the hell was going on.
Harold Larson's two bedroom apartment was on the fourth floor. Mrs. Arden's was on the top, the sixteenth floor. The ride up in the elevator would give him a chance to cool down. He'd only seen her twice before. She'd been living there for about a month. She was a tall, spooky sort of woman, about his age, about thirty-five, with thin sharp features and atrocious red hair drawn back in a tight bun. She wore pants and a jacket, like a man, but with more color. He had a lot of minor complaints to take up with the new owner and he mentally went through these now as he rose to face her with the real complaint, the one he'd hit her with last. He would be calm and self-assured with her, but very, very firm. He was still in his suit and tie, an imposing enough figure to appear as the very concerned parent. But before he did that he'd soften the bitch up by appearing as the steady tenant who was quite fed up with leaky faucets and soiled drapes and a carpet that was more than threadbare. He'd be nice about it. Apartments weren't that easy to get. And by the time he was through with her he'd have some promises for decent maintenance work, and for the future privacy of his only child. He'd handle the situation well. He'd handle it just as well as he'd handled everything else since he'd become both father and mother to Joanie five years before.
There were only two apartments on the sixteenth floor. There were six apartments on each of the lower floors. Harold straightened his tie before the door marked B and knocked sharply at it. It was the place where the rich old bastard, Mr. Nofziger, had lived before he'd sold the place and retired to Hawaii. There was no reply and he knocked again, louder. "She wants my fat little Joanie to be a model," he said to himself, and was raising his knuckles to knock the bitch right out of her drunken snoozing when a warm and very dulcet voice flowed down to him through the hall. "Yes? May I help you?"
Harold thought for a moment he was in the wrong building. The hair on his neck seemed to rise up at the sight of the smiling woman at the other end of the hall. Had Mrs. Arden rented the other penthouse apartment out to a high class call girl, or was this stunning creature his landlady's lesbian lover?
And then all at once Harold realized the woman was her, Mrs. Arden herself. It had to be her, no matter how she was dressed, for not many women had such tall, slim figures, and if they did they weren't often capped with a cascade of wavy red hair. Her hair came down well past her black-lingerie-covered shoulders, framing a face whose features Harold couldn't possibly have thought were thin and sharp. Her eyebrows were thin and dark, but they could never look full as they arched over eyes as luminously brown and long-lashed as hers. Her nose was more prominent than thin, with a regal length to it, and any thinness in her face could be largely attributed to the high cheekbones over her very smooth cheeks. Any sharpness of her chin was softened by a vertical dimple there, and although her lips were thin, her smile was wide and as warm as the scarlet of the lipstick she wore.
"Mrs., uh, Arden?" said Harold. "That's right," said she, standing relaxed in front of the open doorway of Penthouse A. "May I help you?"
"How do you do," he said, with a courteous little bow of his head. She had a fantastic body. And it was fantastically attired. With the black high-heeled mules she was wearing, she looked almost as tall as Harold's five-ten, and all of that statuesque length of her was soft angles and long sweeping curves. Most of the angles and curves showed through the sheer folds of negligee of black and gold. It had full sleeves, slash cut at her wrists, almost obscuring her red-tipped fingers. Its neck was ruffled with black from behind her glossy russet hair to where it joined together, just below a pair of breasts which were anything but thin and sharp. The ruffles picked up again just below the very heavy braided gold sash that held the negligee together, and continued down past her nylon-sheathed legs to the floor. "How do you do," Harold said, "I'm Mr. Larsen from 4C. You . . . wanted to talk to me?"
"Mr. Larsen," she said, and reached out her hand and her smile, and Harold smiled a little nervously and started down the hall toward her. It was only twenty feet to her. Half that distance and Harold could see her black brassiere through the negligee even though he kept his gaze riveted to her smile. Three feet from her and he stepped into the sweet musk of her perfume, and then quite close to her he felt the warmth of her hands on his. "Yes, I came down to officially welcome you as a tenant in my new apartment-my very own!-and I was so sorry I missed you. Your daughter, Joanie, was utterly charming. You've raised her to be a very gracious hostess."
"Well, I," said Harold, and smiled and averted his eyes for a moment, and was struck by the smoothness of her long, slim throat and the warm hollows of her collarbones, and the very firm swells of her tits.
"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Arden, petting the hand she held and warming it further. "It isn't easy for a single parent to raise a child, and doubly hard to do it well."
"She, uh, Joanie, uh, told you about my wife's leaving us five years ago?" Harold said, understanding perfectly well how Joanie would unburden her entire soul into the liquid warmth of a pair of eyes like Mrs. Arden's.
"Yes, we talked about a lot of things, you included," she said with a flashing display of bright white teeth. "We even talked about Joanie becoming a model. Come inside, I'll tell you about it," she said, and drew him right on into her place by his hand. It was an apartment even bigger than the other one on the floor, a place Mr. Nofziger had used to store the large collection of boxes and trunks and furniture the old man had gathered over the years. Now it was in a state of obvious upheaval, boxes of Nofziger's stuff stacked up along the walls, colorful new furniture scattered and grouped about, floors still poorly carpeted, and walls half dingy and half coated with bright new pale yellow paint. Harold stepped over the end of a rolled up rug marked NOFZIGER and was led on to sit down in the center of a wide, deep couch, brand-new and covered with crushed red velvet.
"You know," said Mrs. Arden, standing just before him. "A girl doesn't have to be tall to be a model," she said, and gestured down at the whole lovely length of her, including the elegantly bent nyloned knee that protruded from the darker black of her negligee. "And your Joanie doesn't begin to have her full growth yet, and she's a very pretty girl already. What is she? Only fifteen?"
"Yes, Mrs. Arden, and I don't think it's entirely prudent to . . ."
"Call me Melba," she said, and clasped her hands and bent down toward him, with the big black cones of her tits just above the level of his upraised eyes. "Joanie did in no time. I was so grateful to run into her this afternoon. I'm sure you're an exception, Mr. Larson, but by the time I'd worked my way down to your level, I had had it up to here with complaining tenants." She slashed a lacquered finger across her graceful neck and whirled about, sheer black nylon swirling, and Harold got a good look at just how long and slender her waist was, how slim and yet how very feminine were her hips.
"Please call me Harold," he said, as her pirouette ended and she faced him, smiling brilliantly, the nylon still flowing and settling down over her black nyloned legs and the black and chrome garters that held those nylons up.
"Harold. That's a nice name," she said, and her smile departed from her scarlet lips. "I was just making social calls on the tenants today," she said. "I know there are things to be done in all the apartments, but I didn't want to hear about them all today. They'll all be taken care of. But not until I get a new building superintendent in the next week or two. Your Joanie was the first one I met on twelve floors who didn't complain. And we had a little talk. And it was delightful. Your daughter is so young, so pretty, so full of life. I'm afraid I took advantage of you during your absence and asked Joanie for something cold to drink. And when she said there was wine, well, I needed a glass just then. And then I had another, and, well, I made it through the last four floors. I'd never have made it without your Joanie and your wine. And now what can I fix for you in return? Or more than return. I feel like letting go a little tonight, and I don't feel like drinking alone. I was just making myself a martini, Harold, but I have anything else at all if you'd care to join me for a drink."
"A martini would be fine," said Harold, and watched the lilting sway of her as she walked to well stocked bar, not yet built into the wall. It was the big central room with no windows in it, the way they used to build them in the old days. Harold looked at its woodwork with interest and then turned his gaze back to Melba Arden, a remarkable figure study in profile. Her breasts were very outstanding, and called for still greater attention by the profile of her at the bar. The long sweeping curve of her ass wasn't enough to offset the bulk of her thrusting tits, but somehow the length of her legs more than compensated for it.
"I know," she said, adding gin and stirring the long glass shaker on the bar. "Joanie's a little overweight now, you say, but she'll grow right out of that if she doesn't get into any bad eating habits."
"We eat. . . well," Harold said, and she started toward him with a frosted glass in each hand, all of her started toward him, from her gleaming black toes and flashing dark legs to her rust-colored waves and her scarlet smile.
Harold thanked her for his drink and she swirled around again before him, now stepping past a big white footstool and sitting down in a big white chair. They looked like they were covered with suede leather. At each side of the chair was a bright chrome and glass end table covered with papers with a shelf piled with books below. A very modern chrome table lamp curved up from behind the chair to shine brightly at Harold from over Melba Arden's left shoulder as she drank deeply from her glass.
"And she's tall enough," the woman said. "A girl doesn't have to be tall nowadays to be a model. The main thing about your Joanie it that she's a very pretty girl, and, I believe, extremely photogenic."
"Joanie's always taken a good picture," said Harold. "But I think she's a little young to be thinking about being a model. Do you, uh, ever do any, uh, modeling yourself, uh, Melba?" he said.
She waved a long hand at him and leaned back in her chair, sipped her martini and crossed her slim ankles on the footstool before her. "I did a lot of things, Harold. And, yes, I did a little modeling. And, yes, it's very hard for a girl to break into modeling, but it can be done if the girl's got the basic equipment for it, and that equipment includes the enthusiasm, the drive I see in your Joanie. But the rewards are there," she said, gesturing about her glass, and then draining it, "if a girl's willing to work for them. And nowadays, there's no time like the present for a youngster to get involved with his career. I probably shouldn't even have brought it up. But she could do very well at it, as I see it."
She stretched and lifted one knee, parting the folds of her negligee, then letting them flow to the floor, and giving Harold a startling glimpse of the deepest shadows of her crotch. She said, "No more careers tonight, and certainly no more painting. I'm thoroughly sick of it. I've been painting for a week. It took a gallon of turpentine and a solid hour in a hot tub before I felt clean enough to play hostess. Now I'm going to relax."
Harold had hardly noticed the smell of the paint till then. His nostrils were still flared from the scent of his landlady's perfume. And now he rose to breathe it in again when he'd asked if he could refill her glass and she'd flashed that smile and held out the empty to him. He emptied and refilled his glass at the bar, too. A man needed something to calm him down in the presence of a woman like this. Still his loins weren't at all cooled down as he came to hand her her drink.
She made him wait while she popped the jumbo olive from her first drink into her mouth, and Harold got a new view of the swell of her big right tit and the bra that held it in. Her scarlet lips were working and she was chewing the olive with gusto as she leaned forward to take the glass, and Harold got a still deeper view of her tits.
"You did all this painting yourself?" said Harold, quite unable to move away from her, though his cock was threatening to make a bulge in his pants that would be quite discernible in the strong light from behind her. "For the kind of modeling fees you must get, you could hire several painters."
He'd meant it as a compliment, but she took it right in stride, saying, "Oh, I had enough of that. But it was fun while it lasted. Lots of fun. Would you like to see me when I was a model? And some other things, by the way," she said with a quick look at heaven.
"I'd be delighted," said Harold, and used his most charming smile on her.
"There's a book. An album." She pointed down under the end table next to Harold. "It's the one with the red leather cover. Reach it for me and I'll show you the story of my life."
CHAPTER TWO
It was a heavy album of celluloid folders. Melba Arden took it from Harold and laid it down in her lap, placing her feet on the floor again and gesturing for Harold to sit down on the footstool where her feet had been. As she picked up the album and turned it around, Harold got a good look at her cunt. She was wearing severely black satin panties over it, but he clearly saw the long plump bulge of it between her long pale thighs. There were two long, shallow indentations in her thighs that led right up to her cunt. The twin indentations came from within the broad, dark welts of her black nylon hose and broadened, deepening slightly, to disappear abruptly at the curving legholes of her panties. He couldn't see any red hairs peeping out from there, but he could very clearly see the immaculate smoothness of the black satin bulge of her cunt, until it was covered up with the book of her eight by ten glossies.
"From my first portfolio," she told him, and pointed at pictures of herself smiling perhaps too intently as she struck poses in clothes young girls wore in the fifties. She sipped her drink and laughed about them, and Harold did the same, though she was as stunning in those twenty-year old pictures as when he'd first seen her in the hall that night.
"Fashion," she said, turning another page. "That was my thing then," she said, and made comments on the outmoded styles, pointing them out with the scarlet tip of her long slim finger. "And of course there were what we called art shots, too," she said, and turned another page, making Harold draw back for a moment in seeing this woman in the naked glory of her youth.
Again she was stunning, sleek, looking as poised as she had with the clothes on, even more poised for there was nothing forced about her smile in these pictures. She was absolutely beautiful as a girl, as long and supple looking as a willow wand, and looking coolly proud of it. Harold couldn't see her cunt. It was artfully concealed by her long slim thighs, for these poses were never meant to be pornographic in any way. But her tits were right there and pointing perkily up, though not at all as luxuriously full as they were now.
Harold ventured to make a little joke about that. It was the gin buzzing round in his head that let him chuckle and say, "You did some growing up yourself, Melba."
Immediately he'd said it he was sorry. It was crude and boorish, more likely to come from the lips of a truck driver than an Office Manager. But Melba just laughed and said, "My boobs? I'm afraid they didn't grow. I had implants, dahling," she said. She flipped over several pages of glossies and pointed and said, "Right about here in my career."
The picture she was pointing to was of her as a showgirl, smiling and blonde-haired and in a line with some other tall beauties. It was in Las Vegas, she told him, that she'd started her career as a showgirl, on her way to Hollywood, and it was at this point in the conversation Harold realized she was masturbating.
She'd set her drink down on the end table on her right, and as she'd turned the pages and talked and pointed with her left hand, her right had slipped casually down between the top of her photo album and her tummy. Her knees were wide apart, ostensibly to hold the album open, but now Harold realized they were almost obscenely wide apart for a woman with the training in gracefulness and posture that Melba had. Her right hand, completely concealed by the book on her lap, had perfect access to the long black bulge he'd seen. And that hand was taking advantage of its access.
He could tell from the position of her forearm, draped with such artful carelessness across her thigh, that her fingers were right at her cunt. He could tell from the slow but steadily repeating movements of a sinew in that long slim forearm that her fingers were moving. And he could tell she was masturbating from the fact that her raging thirst was suddenly gone, and she was talking more and more excitedly about the fun she'd had in Las Vegas and the showgirls and guys she'd known there.
It was quite a shocker to Harold Larson. He'd never in his life been in the same room with a woman who was playing with herself. As it set in on him, he realized he was playing with himself just a little, too, if rubbing his cockhead with the tip of his little finger counted as that. His drink was on the table with hers, and his hands were primly folded in his lap. His prick was up hard and it had been by the time he'd seen the first of her nude pictures. It itched, of course, more and more with her every succeeding photo, with her every succeeding word, and those tiny movements of his little finger could hardly be judged as the same sort of thing Melba Arden was doing.
He could even smell it. Though Harold hadn't smelled a woman in heat for months, it was a scent a man didn't forget, and she had it about her most definitely, though still not so strong as her perfume.
Harold coughed and cleared his throat in his hand, crossed his legs and finished his drink and folded his hands in his lap with his right hand curled comfortably around the head of his cock. If she could do it, why not he? Of course he'd be as circumspect as she about it. He'd give himself a nice little squeeze at the right time and she would never be the wiser. The sinews in his arm wouldn't show if they moved. He still had his jacket on. And there they'd sit, each quietly masturbating, him getting off on the pictures of her and her getting off on her bright little spiel, and the hot little memories that went along with it.
Some of the memories must have been pretty hot. She'd fondle a flat glossy photo almost sensually as she told him of the time that went with it, and each of the photos she fondled was one of her, and so she was fondling herself twice. Once was enough for Harold. He was fondling every one of her curves and smiles and looks with his eyes as she turned the pages, and fondling himself through his pants for good measure. He'd never known or heard of such a combination of vicarious and very real thrills in his life before. He captured all he could of her pictures with his eyes, all he could of her scent with his nostrils, determined to hold it all there till he was alone in his bathroom a few minutes hence and creaming into the sink. He'd cream and cream and cream, just a few minutes from now, behind a locked door. He'd do it in his bedroom if Joanie and her bare bottom were still in the bathroom, and it would feel ten times better than his hand on his cockhead did now. He was going to jerk off as he hadn't jerked off in months, he was thinking, just before the change in her tone of voice brought his gaze sharply up from the album.
"Harold!" she said. "What ever are you doing to yourself?"
Immediately his hands flew away from his lap, and that was a basic mistake, for though his stiff cock was concealed in the folds of his pants, his hands had moved far too quickly. "Why, nothing. What do you mean?" he said, blandly as he could, with his cheeks already growing hot.
"Harold, you were jacking off," she said, and her mouth came open wide, and the long red-tipped finger of her left hand now pointed straight at his loins.
"I was not! What are you talking about! What a thing to say!" he said, cheeks on fire now, cock on fire, too, and with hands that didn't know where at all to go.
She laughed and covered her mouth with her hand, bent down over the album in her mirth, then laughed and pointed again and said, "You were masturbating! My God, you were sitting there masturbating!"
"I wasn't! I.. ! If this is your idea of a rude joke, I don't think it's very ..." He stopped, still fuming, shook a finger at her and lashed out at her by saying, "You were the one who started it! You've been doing it all along?"
"Me?" she said, and touched her left hand to her breast. She looked down at herself and said, "Oh." She took her right hand out from between her legs and gestured openhanded with it over the album, and said, "But I wasn't, Harold."
"But you were! Damn it!" he said. "Excuse me. I know you were! I saw your arm move. Your hand was right there. And ... and I could almost...Well, I know you were doing it. And I apologize for... I'd better go."
"Don't," she said, and laid her hand on his knee, letting him have a few moments more of grace before he had to stand up before her and adjust the front of his pants over his shamefully hard cock. "Stay and jack off, if you like."
"Oh, God!" he said, and started to rise again.
"It's flattering to me, really. It's exciting, too. Maybe I'm kinky, but I've always gotten a kick out of seeing someone play with themselves. Maybe that's why I became a-"
"You were doing it, too!" said Harold. "Underneath that book. Put your hand under it again and I'll prove I'm right! Now move your wrist a little closer to your ... to your body. Right there. Yes. And now move your fingers. Like that. Yes. Yes, I can see you're moving them from the way your arm moves. And now," he said, looking right straight through the book, seeing her long fingers curving inward under her crotchband, all sodden and slick with her wetness now, "now take the book away," he said, and did it himself with his clumsy hands, and saw that her fingers were limply hanging a good three inches from her cunt.
"Oh, my God!" Harold groaned, and covered his face with his hands. When he looked again he saw the movement of her forearm, the pulse beating there, and the fact that her fingers were still quite motionless. "I don't know," he said, "if I can ever apologize to you. I might have to move from here."
She took his hand in hers and kissed it lightly, touched her scarlet sticky lips to it and left a mark, and she said in the purr of a well fed sex kitten, "Move already, when I haven't even raised your rent? Stay awhile, Harold. Stay and play with your nice hard cock, and let me watch while you do it."
Harold shook his head and said, "There's no way in the world I could do that."
"Why? Isn't it hard any more?" she said, and her hand would have gone to test it, of that he was sure, if he hadn't held it more tightly in his.
"There's no way in the world," he said, "of it ever going soft again in the foreseeable future. I'd better leave, Mrs. Arden."
"You'd better stay and entertain me unless you want me to evict you for having a child of less than sixteen living here," she said. "You'd better stay and play, and you'd better enjoy it as much as I'll enjoy watching you."
"I couldn't. I just couldn't," he very sincerely told her.
"Why not? It's easy," she said, and she sat back and opened her legs and said, "Watch."
Those long indentations in her inner thighs deepened and broadened as she spread her legs more widely apart. She looked down along with Harold as with two of her red-tipped fingers she went over and over the long vertical bulge of her cunt. Harold couldn't even try to look away. Now those two fingers stopped at the top of where her slit would be under its taut black satin covering and they moved in a slow, small circle there. He had a hard time looking up at her smiling face when she lifted it and said, "See?"
Harold shifted his cock in his pants, for by then it was killing him, and again he said, "I couldn't. I simply couldn't do it, Melba."
"Not enough inspiration?" she said, and Harold drew back on the stool as she rose and loosened the golden rope around her waist.
The sides of her negligee were swept aside as she placed her hands on her hips, and Harold drew in his breath quite sharply as he saw the creamy white of her flesh against the stark black of her undies. Her bra was packed full, but still its black cups were held high in place by the two spaghetti thin black straps that disappeared over her lean, soft shoulders. Her torso was tremendously long and white and slim, her belly with its long vertical navel so flat it was concave below the lines of her ribs. Her panties were a match for her brassiere, stark black and full cut, without even a bit of lace to soften their edges, and fitted perfectly to every curve of her hips. They were made of such heavy satin that he couldn't see the belt holding up her garters, stretched down taut from the legholes of her panties to draw her gleaming dark hose up high on her wonderfully long and shapely legs.
"There's plenty of inspiration," he said. "I just.. ." he said, and stopped as the negligee was slid down her arms to flow behind her on the white chair, and her hands crept down over her black covered hips.
One of them went to her pussy and touched it as before, up and down over the inward curving bulge of it, then pausing with its fingers on the spot where her clitoris had to be. It was right there before his eyes, but now he couldn't smell it so clearly. She caressed herself there with one hand, very frankly masturbating with two fingers, then giving her whole lovely cunt a squeeze within its black satin crotchband, and returning to diddle her clit once again. The other hand went to rove over her svelte, near-nude body, squeezing its thrusting tits and feeling its creamy skin, then dipping lower and lower inside her panties till the front panel of them was stretched over that hand and it was doing the job the other had begun.
"Feels nice," she warmly murmured, and with slow movements of her hips, she moved her cunt to meet the fingers working within her panties, while with her other hand she warmly caressed both tits. She turned her back on him then, just as slowly and seductively as any woman had ever turned her back on a helpless man, and gave him a look at her ass.
It was all covered up with her panties, of course, but that only made it wilder to look at, for the slow manipulations of her fingers in front of her panties were stretching and shifting the back panel of them in hugely intriguing ways. Harold watched their highlights and shadows move ever so subtly, heard her soft luxurious murmurings. He looked up and down her long vee back and he leaned closer and got the scent of her very clearly, and he shifted his cock in his pants till he had his hand around it very well. When she'd slowly turned around again, his hand was still on his cock, but it was no longer moving as hers was inside her panties.
"Are you ready to play with yourself now?" she said. She wrinkled her long nose at him and said, "Take off your clothes and do it right."
"Oh, my God," Harold muttered, and opened his belt buckle and stood up.
CHAPTER THREE
Melba sat down in the big white chair again, sprawled there smiling up at Harold as he fumbled at his fly. Her hand was out of her panties now and on her crotch, fondling it and petting it and squeezing it as if it were a purring black kitten in her lap.
Harold was looking right into her warm brown eyes, however, when he stopped with his belt and his fly open and said, "Listen, Melba, if you want to get some kicks, there are better ways of doing it than this. I'd like to kiss you there." He took a deep breath and said, "I'd like to kiss your cunt. I'm good at it, Melba. I like to do it. I'll make you cum. All you want. I...."
He had to stop and catch his breath, and as he did, the smiling woman with the flowing red hair said, "You just take off your clothes, darling, and then we'll see about that. But I don't want to get involved in any heavy sex tonight. I have too much to do in the morning than to spend all night having the sort of time you're talking about. Maybe another time. Maybe. First let's see how you handle yourself."
Harold let his cock flop out of his shorts and pants. It was big and thick and heavy, capped with a plum-sized knob of bright pink. He gave it a few strokes of his good right hand and let a sneer creep into his voice as he said, "Am I supposed to cream all over you? Is that part of your kinkiness, too?"
She grinned and said, "I like that, too. I like it all."
Harold dropped to his knees and managed to hold her long thighs apart long enough to feel the softness and smell the heat of her black covered crotch with his lips and nose. When she laughed and lifted his face, he said, "Melba, please let me kiss it, lick it. Honey, I want to so much. I'll do anything you say, anything you want if you'll just tell me after I do it I can take off your sexy black panties and kiss your cunt till you cum, suck your clit, lick you, make you cum."
"Well see," she said, and kissed the tip of his nose, and dodged back when he tried to reach her lips. "First take off your clothes-everything-and then well see."
Harold's coat, shirt and tie came off while he was kneeling on the floor before her. He felt drunk as he'd ever been in his life as he got to his feet to remove his shoes and socks, his pants and shorts, all the while with his big stiff cock bobbing around in front of him and with that gorgeous vision of red and white and black sitting there smiling and toying with her long lush body.
He sat down on the edge of the footstool before her. He took his hard cock in hand and gave it a few slow and much needed strokes. He rubbed it up against his hairy belly, looked pointedly down at her cunt and licked his lips and said, "Please let me lick you there, Melba. Please."
Her red lacquered nails were still dabbling over the tautly bulging satin, and now she lifted one long knee and let the spiked heel of that foot dig deeply into the white suede just next to her cunt. The change in her posture exposed still more of her crotch and the crotchband that covered it, and Harold was stroking his cock again and nervously fondling his thigh as she said, "Wouldn't you rather fuck me?"
Harold groaned and closed his eyes long enough to say, "Oh, my God." When he opened them, the sharply pointed toe of her shoe was still there by her cunt, gleaming brilliantly in contrast to the softer glow of her equally black panties. "Yes," he said. "I'd love to fuck you. I'd do anything to fuck you. But I thought.. . well, you simply seemed like a woman who'd be very fond of... of having her cunt sucked. And I promise I'd do anything if you let me."
"Oh, you men," she said with a smile, and adjusted the leghole of her panties around her garter, and ran her two fingers up that long indentation in her thigh and down it again. "Always making promises. Always saying you'll do anything for a woman if she'll just come across. But once you've had your way with her-once you've fucked her or eaten her or just looked at her in the right way-once you've done that, it's bye-bye, baby, and off to work you go."
Harold slipped to his knees on the floor before her. His cock was sticking up at a sharp angle as he laid one hand on the arm of her chair, the other right on her knee, so very firm, and so very firmly encased in its web of gleaming nylon. And he said, softly but with conviction, "I mean it, Melba. I'd do anything to fuck you, anything at all. I'd do anything to kiss you there, everywhere between your legs. Panties on or panties off, I don't care. I've just got to have something from you. You don't know what you've done to me." He moved his hand on her knee, squeezed it just a little, and felt ill and close to weeping with his need for her. "I'll just do anything you say. It doesn't have to be a heavy, all night session of sex if you don't want. Melba, can't I just kiss you there? Just once? Then I'll jack off for you all you want."
She grinned and ruffled his hair. Her hand went gliding up over her elevated knee and down that gleaming shin, over her ankle and came to rest on her well shod foot. She said, "Will you help me paint tomorrow?"
Harold answered without hesitation. "Yes. Absolutely. I'll take the morning off."
"Will you make us both another martini?" "Of course," he said, and got up and did it forthwith, and his cock was still pointing up at her as he took his place on his knees before her again. "I told you I'd do anything," he said. "I mean it." He tried to chuckle as he said, "Kiss your feet, kiss your ass, paint your whole apartment, anything."
He watched with sickening longing as her fingers dipped into her martini, then moved wet and dripping to her crotch once again. They went inside the crotchband of her panties this time and made it move, and then she took them out and licked them each, and said, "So you're a foot fancier, are you?"
"I don't know what I am," he said in a voice that croaked, and collapsed on the floor before her and began to kiss her foot.
It was the one with its heel in the seat cushion, the one right next to her cunt, and as he held it in his shaking hands and kissed it, its leather and its nyloned flesh, the subtle smell of her cunt was right there to drive him further into his insanity. He'd never done anything at all like this before, had hardly even thought of it, and here he was stark naked at a woman's feet, and kissing one of those feet with all the ardor in his soul. It was scarcely even sensuous. The heel of her shoe was hard as a rock, and so was its pointed toe. True, the gleaming black leather was every bit as smooth as it had looked, and her nylon sheathed instep was charging his lips with electricity, but holding her foot in his hand and kissing it was scarcely a sensuous experience. All it was was exciting, wholly exciting, so much so that it was almost an anticlimax when at last he turned and buried his panting mouth against her cunt.
"You sneaky thing, you," she said, and taking a handful of his hair, she rocked his head between her legs. "I didn't say you could do that yet."
Harold lifted his face and leaned back before he fainted dead away from the smell of her cunt, from the feel of its softness against his mouth, and he managed a wan smile as he said, "I'm afraid I can't bring myself to apologize." His lips and his nostrils were leading him down to her cunt again when she covered it with her long thin hand.
"Is it feet or just shoes that you like?" she said, and she slipped off the shoe he'd kissed and let it thump down against his knee. Now, with her knee still highly elevated, she placed the sole of that foot against her thigh, pointed her toes at him and wriggled them under their nylon web.
Harold clasped her foot in his hand and kissed those toes, took them in his mouth and sucked them. He took his shaking hand from her foot to grasp his hard cock and give it one shuddering hard squeeze, then clasped that hand around her inner thigh and felt fully of the white velvet satin she wore for a skin. "I've got to. Got to," he said, and her unshod foot moved back to the seat cushion as if by magic, and he could feel of the skin of her inner thigh with his trembling, panting lips.
Her black cuntbulge was right there, not six inches before his glazed-over eyes. She was going to let him do it this time. Of that he was sure as could be. Harold inched closer, his cheek burrowing against her inner thigh, his inhalations breathing deeply of her penetratingly wonderful scent and his exhalations further warming her up for the kisses to come. Her toes were right there beside her cunt and slowly wriggling. Harold got up on his knees again to kiss them, each of the five of them, each in its turn, and then laid both hands on her wonderful skin and reverently kissed her cunt.
It was a pillow, a cushion, a small black bolster perfectly packed with sex. Harold kissed up and down its bulging length, and in those cunning hollows between her fragrant cunt and where his trembling hands clasped her thighs. He crouched lower and kissed her cunt again, looked up past its satin blackness to her radiantly lovely face and saw her smiling thinly while she sipped the drink he'd made her. He didn't care if he wasn't turning her on. He didn't care if the wild night of all out sex with her was not in store for him. All he cared about was her sitting still, so he could cover her crotch with more kisses and partake of her two perfumes.
She wasn't even wet. As sexy as her panties were between her legs, they were scarcely even damp there. Harold licked her there, painted a broad swath with his tongue up and over the curving bulge, distinctly feeling the contours of her firm cuntlips as he did, and he settled down shivering and shuddering again to kiss her cunt some more.
"You do like it, don't you?" she said, and she trailed her two fingers down over the side of his face.
Harold caught them and kissed them, kissed her toes again, planted a firm and burrowing kiss exactly in the middle of the top of her slit and said, "Yes! I could sit here all night and kiss your cunt, your beautiful, beautiful cunt. I don't even care if it gets you hot or not. It does me."
"And you like to be hot?" she said, dabbling her fingers between herself and his kisses, proving she adored the feel of herself near as much as he did.
He bit them and nipped them, stretched her crotchband tight as it would go over her cunt, and he licked her and kissed her very hard through it and said, "I wish it would never end."
"But I am getting hot, though, you know," she said. "Or at least a little bit warm." She shrugged in the face of his newly adoring expression and said, "I can't help it."
As he watched, dizzy with his panting, she delved two fingers within her crotchband, moved them there and her smile broadened. "Hot," she said, "not warm," and when her fingers came out Harold clasped her hand and kissed them, licked them, and tasted the pungent sweetness he'd been smelling till his brain was filled with it.
When he fell on her cunt with his mouth again, her crotchband was wet, and getting wetter all the time as he went up and down on it with his lips. What had started as a small slick spot in the middle of it was soon a broad vertical band of the goodness that was seeping through the double thickness of satin now that she'd opened out the floodgates of her sex. His hair was raising on the back of his neck as he thought about doing this all night long, as he thought about having that really heavy night of sex that was apparently the only way this woman could be satisfied sexually. He froze with his lips pursed and sucking against what had to be her clitoris as she said, "You're getting my panties all soiled, dear. Wouldn't you like to take them off me and do it right?"
Harold sat back on his haunches shivering, with his cock still high in the air. His mouth was dry as cotton, and when he went for a sip of his drink, he spilled icy cold liquor down his chest. But then he could talk, and when he could, he said, "I want you to take 'em off for me . .. please. You said . . . some men like to look at you in the right way want to look at you . . . taking off your pants.
She arose with no hesitation, slinking up out of her chair to tower over him, and now he quaked inwardly at the thought of what it might do to him if she answered every request he ever made. He leaned back and looked, hands dangling behind him, as the beautiful tall woman with the scarlet smile and the glossy red hair hooked her thumbs in her panties' waistband and started the panties down.
She slithered them down. She knew what she was doing. From her pictures Harold had seen that Melba had spent some time as a stripper, as an ecdysiast, and she'd surely not forgotten a thing she'd learned at the trade-if indeed she'd had to do any learning at all when it came to displaying her lovely body. Harold began stroking his hot cock again as the panties came inching down, for he'd taken her at word about how someone's jacking off excited her. It was small payment indeed for the excitement he was deriving from her very close-up striptease.
Melba's garter belt was black, much wider than Harold had expected it to be, and made of such heavy glossy satin there wasn't a hint of a wrinkle in it. Her front two garters came down in concave vees from it, very black against the pale, pale white of her skin. Her panties were bunched about her hips now, almost like a gee string, and still he hadn't seen a trace of her hair down there, red or blonde or black or whatever color it might be. And then as her panties came lower, Harold caught in his breath and exclaimed, "You've shaved!"
"Electrolysis," she said, and zipped the satin panties right down her nyloned legs, and stood up before him with them dangling over her hip, with her bare, bare cunt on display between her tightly clasped thighs. "You like?" she said.
"I don't know," he said, staring, blinking at what he now faced. "I mean, it's beautiful. You're beautiful that way. It's just that-"
"-you expected hair," she said, and still with her hands on her hips, she put her weight on one leg, and turned the other outward so he could see her lips, her lovely pink lips, all glistening and shining with dew.
Harold placed his hands on his thighs and left off stroking his cock. It was getting too dangerous. He looked up in question through his eyes, and when the corners of her mouth turned up, he leaned forward with extended tongue and tasted fully of her cunt. "Your cunt's brimful!" he softly said. "You may not show it, but you're just as hot as I am!"
He started back for more of her goodness, then stopped as she said, "Would you like me to pee in your face to make you even hotter?"
His stomach turned over and he shook his head, and he placed trembling hands on her thighs and returned his tongue to her cunt. He found her clitoris right away, a beautifully prominent part of her, and scarcely stopped to suck it before delving beneath it with his tongue for more and more of her cuntjuice. It was thick and creamy. There was plenty of it and more coming. Its taste was superb, clean and sweet and totally funky. He was trying to hold back from simply gobbling her up, inching forward on his knees now, gently spreading her exquisitely hairless flesh and lip-nibbling his way up and down the frilly flesh lips of her cunt.
"You're not really doing badly at all," she said, and backed off with her hips, brushed back his hair, and sat down again in her big white chair.
Harold felt like Henry the Eighth sitting down before a groaning board. There weren't haunches of venison and sides of beef and whole roast pigs there before him. There was only that fine hot cunt, bereft of its every hair and waiting to be eaten, and eat it he did.
He lapped and nibbled over her cuntlips again, then drew back for a good look at her clitoris before smacking and sucking kiss after hard kiss on that perfect little finger of flesh, the better to make her juices flow. And it wasn't so little. It was quite a conspicuous part of her cunt, long like the rest of her, and further elongated by years of being sucked on by adoring men such as himself. He did it to get more of her juices, but now that desire fled from his head as he felt her leg raise up and her nylon stockinged foot begin to massage his bare back.
"That's nice. I like that. Harold, that's real nice," she purred, and warmest desire swept through him, for he knew he was getting her hot.
Harold went to work on her cunt then. He got his hands up under her asscheeks-beautiful things to hold-and ate out her cunt like he was a boy going after a watermelon. He sucked and lapped the length and breadth of it, tarrying again and again at her clitoris to diddle all around it with his tongue and suck on it with his smacking lips. He kissed that cunt in a thousand ways, and the proud beauty who owned that cunt went nuts.
"Oh, Harold! Oh, baby, yes!" she said, hanging onto his hair, and pushing her cunt up for more. "Yeah-h-h," she said. "You're starting to get to me now," she said, and then a sudden spasm of what had to be purest joy swept through her and the foot on Harold's back came down with a thump to the floor, and her other leg quickly came up and snaked around his neck. "Uh-o-h-h-h. Uh-o-h-h-h! Yes, that feels so good!" she said, digging her long spiked heel into him, as if he needed any further spurring on.
Her eyes were tightly closed and her upper teeth were bared as she licked and relicked her lower lip. Her torso was slowly bending and twisting, pushing her big, black-covered tits out in every direction before her, making her belly button wink and stretch. Her hairless cunt kept pushing, pushing at him for more, while from behind him her heel ground deeper. And her hands, her beautiful hands, when they weren't grasping and pulling at him, they were roving everywhere on her body, feeling the flesh they'd felt ten thousand times before and still not tiring of it a bit.
And then in long, shuddering tones, Melba said, "Oo-o-o-o-o. Ah-h-h-h-h," and Harold knew for sure she was cumming, and he started cumming himself.
She uttered another of those wonderful moans and planted both feet on the floor, and a big long squirt of jism came spurting on out of Harold's cock. She held his cheeks in her hands and very deliberately humped her hips forward and fucked him in the face, and again his hard cock spurted. He was clutching at her inner thighs with both hands, lapping and sucking indiscriminately, half out of his head with cumming, but not so far out of his head he forgot about her kinky tastes. Up on his knees he got, straight up, and with half a dozen fast strokes of his cock he succeeded in spurting two heavy ejaculations of his hot, hot jism directly between her legs.
"Oh!" she cried, and it was a cry of joy, and all at once she was all alive again, rubbing his jism all over her cunt and thighs and belly and vibrating her clitoris with the finger of her other hand and crying out in her joy.
Harold had never seen a woman cum like that before. He'd never seen anyone cum all the way like that, and it fascinated him. He could only watch her quite dumbstruck, slowly stroking his oozing cock and feeling caught on the peak of an orgasm. The feeling slowed as she started to relax in the big white chair, then rose as she sat up licking her smiling lips and opening her scarlet mouth as she came at him.
Harold's cock had just started to go soft. The moment Melba's lips touched his, it began to get hard again. She kissed him with her whole mouth, just as she'd cum with her whole body, and Harold didn't know if he could keep up with that. She sucked his lips in her mouth and did the same with his tongue, then thrust her tongue inside his mouth with such boldness he began to jack off again. She kissed him all over his face, with her tongue and her lips, and took his cock in her hand as she returned her mouth to his. She was stroking it in her incredible hand as she backed off to let him breathe of her.
"That was good," she said. "I might let you do that again sometime." She kissed him and threw back her head and laughed, and said, "I might have to let you do that again soon."
"I loved doing it." Harolds's hands were shaking as much as before when he placed them on her knees. "I'll do it again. Any time, any place," he said, and moved his mouth toward hers. He felt just as hot as before when her hand left his cock and she leaned back to look down at herself.
"I know you loved doing it," she said. "Harold, you just came all over me! You even got it on my foot!" she said, and lifted up her foot in her hands, the one still in its shoe.
"Yes," he said, nodding, seeing his jism gleaming pearly on her nylon and her leather, right there before his eyes.
The heel of that shoe once again dug into the couch, just beside her now gapingly open pink pussy, and she said, "I should have peed on you, but I forgot it. You wanted me to pee on you, didn't you?"
"No," said Harold. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm saying or doing." He looked down at her cunt, a ripe pink fruit being guarded by the pointed black toe of her shoe, and said, "Melba, let me kiss it some more."
She drew back in mock surprise, and felt all around in that rich ripe fruit, and said, "I think it's had enough. And it's probably getting time for you to go," she said, and patted his cheek with that hand, and brushed it across his lips.
Harold kissed and kissed her hand and said, "I have time. Let me do it a little more."
"Darling, what about Joanie's dinner?" said Melba, and took his cheeks in her hands.
"There's time!" Harold said, and bobbed down and kissed her cunt, and licked as much as he could of it before she pulled him up to face her.
"Darling, I don't want you to start me off again. I can't afford to sleep all day tomorrow."
"Just give me a little. Then I'll go," Harold said, and reached for her cunt with his shaking hand, and thoroughly warmed and wet his hand as she spoke back to him.
"From now on with me tonight, there wouldn't be any such thing as little, if I don't cut it off right here. And I'm cutting it off, darling, at least for tonight."
She kissed him as if she was just starting out with her passion, and took his hand away from her cunt. She backed off and stood up, drawing him up with her, kissed the hand she held in hers and said, "You'd better get dressed and go."
"Jesus Christ!" he said, and took his stiff cock in his hand, "with this?" And then in a softer tone, he said, "Excuse me. But, Melba, are you going to send me out in the cold with a hard-on like this?"
She threw back her head and laughed, and said, "The halls are all well heated, dear. Take that lovely thing home with you now and bring it back with you when you come for another visit. Get dressed, dear. It's time for you to go."
Though Melba paid no mind to him, Harold dressed stiffly and awkwardly. She was walking around her cluttered apartment, lighting a cigarette, mixing a drink at the bar just as if she were fully dressed. Harold couldn't handle a woman like that. He could never understand her casual morals, let alone keep up with her in bed. And how could she be so callous as to practically throw him out like this? She wasn't for him. He had to end it. Fully dressed, and feeling very much disheveled, he faced her squarely as she came to him with her fresh martini in hand.
Calmly, collectedly, he said, "It's been . . . really something, Melba. But I don't think I'll be coming back on a social call again."
"Oh, you'll be back," she said, and waved one long hand at him while she drank from the other. "They always come back," she said, and looked down at her big right breast. "Don't they?" she said to it, as she squeezed it and stroked it, bulging the swells of that tit up over her black brassiere. And now she deftly slipped that bra strap and peeled down that cup, and at the first sight of her big right tit, all full of silicone and sex and nipple, Harold was down with his mouth and sucking on it lustily.
"I'll see you soon," she said, drawing it back, covering that lovely thing up.
"Yes, I'll see you, uh .. . soon," he said, and took a step back. "Good night," he said, backed halfway to the door, and still she hadn't called him back.
"Let's start at eight in the morning," she said, and Harold stopped and leaned forward, and said, "What?"
"The painting. Eight in the morning," she said, and Harold laughed and backed his way to the door, saying, "Oh, yes. The painting. I'll see you in the morning. Old clothes. Eight."
"Be here a little early and I'll fix you breakfast if you like," she said, and finally came forward to kiss him goodbye at the door. "Joanie can eat breakfast by herself for once."
"Yes. Early," he said. "Good night. Good night," he said, and walked down the hall thinking about breakfast in bed with her.
CHAPTER FOUR
The long, plummeting elevator ride had taken something out of Harold Larson. He was thinking about it since he'd awakened very early in his bed the next morning. The excitement had been gone from it all by the time he'd reached 4C, replaced by apprehension that his daughter would immediately know what he'd been doing. But she'd just been interested in her television-thank God for television-and he'd been able to saunter in past her and shower and jerk off and get into fresh clothes before her program was over. The excitement had really been gone then. He felt all dull and loggy as he slopped a dinner together and watched TV with Joanie till he'd fallen asleep on the couch. Now he was wide awake and wondering if it was all a dream.
It couldn't go on. He'd been right the night before in thinking that she'd kill him in her bed, if she didn't devour him right before the eyes of his little daughter. He couldn't believe he'd done all those things the night before. Kissing her foot? He must have been terribly drunk, though he felt not a trace of a hangover that morning. And what was in store for him that day? Would they wind up rolling around on the floor naked, slapping at each other with dripping white paint brushes? He had to get out of it. He'd have to tell her there was an emergency down at the office.
He got up and showered, even though it was only five thirty. He did not jack off the hard-on he'd brought from his bed with him. He still believed that habitual masturbation wasn't really good for a person, and he knew that every time he played with himself now he'd be starkly recalled to what had happened last night. "Better to leave it all lie," he said, as he stepped from the shower. His hard-on was softening up as he got back in his pajamas.
It was so early the paper wasn't there yet. He couldn't get interested in the book he'd been reading. There was nothing but test patterns on television. He was starved, but limited himself to cups of black coffee till he could have breakfast with Joanie. The paper came and he read it over his fourth cup. His prick seemed quite docile now, and there were articles he could read in their entirety without thinking about Melba and her Melba Peach of a cunt. When his alarm went off he hurried into the bathroom and jerked off in the sink, then got dressed in his clothes for work and knocked on Joanie's door to waken her.
He'd intended to do the weekly shopping the night before. There was only one egg and two strips of bacon in the refrigerator. He fried them up, ate the heel and popped the last slice of bread in the toaster and called out to Joanie, "Breakfast's on." He was reading the paper again as she came out, and she looked so sunny and bright and beautiful in her tight faded denims and silk-screened shirt, he could almost see her as a model.
Joanie looked at her plate on the table and said, "Did you already eat?"
"No, I.. . I'm not very hungry this morning," he said, patting himself on the belly. "I'll grab something at coffee break."
He watched, thinking she could be a Breck Girl with all that lovely golden hair, as she attacked her breakfast with gusto. But then she suddenly stopped in the middle of it and frowned, pushed her plate away and said, "I'm not so hungry, either."
"What's the matter?" he said. "Are you still thinking about turning yourself into a stringbean model?"
"I eat too much," she said, and gathered up her books and started out the door. "And all I'm thinking about now is not missing the bus. Bye-bye, Daddy."
Harold sat there smiling. All his worries, and little Joanie hadn't had an inkling that her old man had been upstairs getting it on with the landlady. He went through the paper again and did the crossword, rose and called the office ansaphone and said he had stomach flu. Then he ate every morsel of what Joanie had left on her plate. He brushed his teeth and changed into old but rather jaunty clothes, brushed his teeth again and got in the elevator and pushed the button marked 16.
A Champagne breakfast? A breakfast in bed? Harold felt of his cock through his pocket. Yes, it was a good deal thicker than it normally was at this time of day. How could a guy keep his hands off his dick with a woman like Melba around? He'd fuck her today, of this he was sure. Eat her just a little and then fuck the living shit out of her. Get at both of those luscious big tits of hers. Silicone? Who the fuck cared? They tasted good and they felt good, and it might just drive her wild to get them sucked. He would turn that woman every way but loose this fine day. She'd taken him by surprise the night before. He might even fuck her before tearing into the slabs of ham swimming in gravy she'd fixed for him, and the sizzling hot eggs and the buttered scones. And then he'd start the rest of the day off by drinking the rest of the breakfast Champagne from her cunt, as she held the bottle for him and had orgasm after orgasm.
Harold's cock was fully hard in his pocketed hand as he knocked on the door marked A.
Melba answered the door in a beautifully clinging red jumpsuit-that was liberally spattered with paint. She had a paint roller in her gloved hand and her flame colored hair was out of sight under a shower cap. There was a big brass ring on the zipper of the jumpsuit hanging down below her tits, and Harold reached for it and said, "I'd better just knock again."
Melba laughed and swept him inside, kissed him and pushed him on toward the kitchen, saying, "Your breakfast is on the stove. I already ate. I woke up so early, I've almost got this wall done already. Hurry up, Harold. There's a lovely new paint roller waiting here for you."
It was hard to hurry up over cooling oatmeal. Some milk on it further cooled it. Brown sugar helped the taste, and Harold bolted it right down. He gulped half a can of V-8 Juice, covered his mouth and belched, and hurried back out to where Melba was. He had a beautiful view of the seat of her red polyester jumpsuit climbing up her ass as he bent to fill his paint pan and she painted high up on the wall.
"Uh," he said, "pretty nifty outfit you've got on to do your painting."
"It's ruined," she said, and turned to point to a long black burn on the cloth up between her legs. She explained, "Cigarette burn. It's not any good for anything but work like this now. Harold, that's a very nice shirt you're wearing. You shouldn't get paint on that. I have some old sweatshirts and things you could put on instead."
"This is fine. I don't care about this old shirt," he said, though he'd liked to have taken off his pants and shown her the size of his hard-on.
She sent him in the other room to paint. What the hell, it was bright and sunny there with a fine view of the city where all the other slobs were working, while Harold helped a knockout model paint her new pad. He'd fuck the shit out of her before the day was out. But first he'd paint her bedroom, and he knew this would be her bedroom because it smelled so sweetly of her perfume. All her lacy, slinky, sexy things were there in the room under drop clothes, as was the big bed he'd soon fuck her on. He'd work smoothly and efficiently until then, and be careful not to get a drop of paint on his face and hands.
But she wouldn't care if he was a little dirty when he fucked her. When he got done licking her up between her legs where the cigarette bum had been, she wouldn't care if he was wearing dirty painter's coveralls when he finally proposed that they fuck. Or long-handle drawers. Or some of her sexy lingerie. ...
Harold worked more briskly. The sooner he got it finished, the sooner he'd be screwing her silly. He checked at the door to see how she was doing now and then, and what he'd be screwing, and went back to painting her room. Soon she was in the room with him, and Harold could chat with her while they worked back to back.
He had turned to make another comment to her when this time she turned back to answer him, and she frowned and said, "You're not getting enough on the wall. It's all on you and the floor. Harold, pay attention to what you're doing. We can talk over coffee in a little while, as soon as we finish this room." Harold painted the rest of his half of the room in silence. She was a fucking witch, and he never should have come that morning. He didn't even turn and look at her jumpsuit's reaching and grabbing at her cunt for he could see it as clearly as if the wall before him was a mirror. And when it was finished, she beamed at it and beamed at him and said, "Oh, don't look so grouchy. It's beautiful. Come on in the kitchen with me. I know just what you need right now."
She gave him coffee and brandy as he sat on the stool at her breakfast bar. He got to sit there and watch every movement of her ass and her tits and all of her as she put their drinks together. And then she sat on the stool next to his, knee to knee with him, and they clinked their cups and drank together. She was leaning close to him and smiling as she said, "Did you bring it back with you?"
"Uh-h-h, was I supposed to bring something?" Harold said.
Melba laughed and whipped off her p shower cap, shook her head as all her titian curls came tumbling down around her lovely face. She laid an electrically charged hand on his knee and said, "Your cock, darling," she said. "You were supposed to bring your lovely cock back here with you."
"Well, I.. . Heh, heh." Harold was suddenly all flustered. He said, "Sure. I, uh, never make a move without it."
"Is it still good and hard?" she said, with her red, red claws raking up and down both his thighs and her brown eyes gleaming like a cat's.
"It's just like you left it," he said, and with his hand he outlined its hardness clearly through his paint spattered pants.
She wrinkled her lovely nose and said, "Take it out. I want to see."
Her claws on his thighs kept working and working. In the quantum leap of his excitement, Harold's hands had turned clumsy and now they hindered him in the quick unzipping of his pants. As he fumbled about and did it, he said, "I haven't touched it since you said good night to me last night. It's liable to go off the minute I get it out. Cream all over you, Melba. It's liable to shoot all over you," he said, and yanked out the big swollen knob of his cock and reached for the big brass ring of her zipper.
She brushed his hand away from her, slid both her hands up to push against his loins and extrude his hard cock farther from his pants. "Yes, let's see how much it can cum," she said, and licked her scarlet lips and bent down and curled them around Harold's cock.
"Oh, my God!" Harold exclaimed. "Honey, this is too good to be true! Oh! Melba, I love you! Oh, Jesus Christ!" he said, with his cock being subjected to the blow job to end all blow jobs, a deep vacuum sucking that alone was enough to turn a man's balls inside out, accompanied by a lashing and swirling of her lips and tongue that very thoroughly reached every nerve ending of his flaming cock. Harold placed shaking hands at each side of her bobbing head and said, "Wait. Jesus Christ, it's just too much. Let me lick you, too. Sixty-nine. Cream all over your gorgeous body. Piss all over my face. Melba! Melba, I love you and I want to-NNNnnngh!"
Harold's cock shot about a five second long burst of jism up into Melba's sucking mouth. The heavy ejaculation grabbed him and shook him physically, and kept on shaking him as his hands now clawed at her back. He squirted again even longer, heavier, and she went right on sucking it up. His hips were thrusting up, fucking her in the mouth, and though he tried, he couldn't stop them at all.
Harold upset his coffee cup and nearly overturned the stool in his churnings, fuckings, cummings. He was gasping and moaning and groaning, and the wonderful woman with her head in his lap just went on purring and sucking him off. "Darling!" he exclaimed, when he was in command of his voice again. "Let me get at you, too! Oh! Here it comes again! Let's go to bed! Do it right! All day and all night!"
Melba's lips came off the terrifically sensitized knob of Harold's cock with a smack, and she held its thick shaft firmly in her hand as she went over every bit of it again with her very warm and active tongue. It was still oozing out its cum, and each time a drop of it appeared, her lips were there to kiss the little mouth from which it came, and her tongue was there to lick it off. She was purring more loudly now, or at least Harold could hear it better now that his heavy gaspings had dwindled with the dwindling of his first gigantic ejaculations. Still he was tingling all over with orgasmic splendors as Melba lifted her smiling face from his lap, swept back her long red hair, and kissed him deep and long on the mouth.
It was so sticky inside her mouth it almost made Harold sick, but that lasted for only the briefest moment before he had his hands on her long soft body and was showing her what he'd learned about kissing in thirty-five wonderful years. What a mouth she had! It could be full of old coffee grounds and still be a sensuous thing. He kissed it for as long as he could, almost tumbling forward off the stool as at last she drew back, and then he gathered up what was left of him and said, "Melba, let's go to bed. Right now. I'm hopelessly in love with you. I've got to have you. Please. Let's go to bed."
"Darling, we have painting to do," she said, and gave him a kiss just about as passionate as he got from his daughter. "Come on," she said, and got up from her stool.
Harold held her in front of him with his knees on her hips and his hands on her waist, and said, "Just give me a blow job and send me back to work? I can't understand you, Melba. I love you, Melba. Do you understand that? I love you passionately, with all my heart. I've experienced feelings with you I've never known before. But right now I feel as if you're just using me. Listen," he said, "the painting can wait for a little bit. Now is the time for our getting together and talking this over. Melba, you've got me going out of my mind!"
She'd been tucking her hair up under the shower cap all the time he'd been talking to her. Now she said, "The painting can't wait. And you're not going to get to fuck me till it's done. Okay?" she said, and took his naked cock in her hand, and rubbed its softening and extremely sensitive knob up and down over the red-covered bulge of her cunt. Then she dropped it and picked up her coffee cup, drained it and said, "Let's go."
Harold hadn't even had any coffee. And in the condition his prick had been, her polyester jumpsuit had felt as rough as sandpaper against it. It burned in his pants as he wielded the paint roller once again. She was definitely using him. And he was just as definitely in love with her. And that could never work out. Every time he touched her, looked at her, talked to her he was falling more deeply in love with her. And all she cared about was getting some work and some kicks out of him. It was a hopeless situation. His love for her had him trapped in it, though. He had to talk to her. If she realized how he felt about her it might open her eyes and make her see that he was more than just another lay in her life. He didn't care how many other guys had screwed her. None of them had loved her as he did now, and even if they had, those were all in her past. He'd talk to her, keep at her, do his best to try to be the one man in her life to give her stability now that she was out of whirlwind of show business. And if the only time he could talk to her was when he was fucking her, then so be it. He'd start his campaign that day, as soon as the painting was finished.
Harold worked like a madman as the morning went by. He had the hang of the roller now and was covering walls and ceilings like a professional, dragging the drop cloths with him as he went from room to room. Melba had no complaints about his work now. She was even talking to him a little, saying funny things to him, but he just kept on working, determined to get the job done in time to have that serious talk with her and make ardent love to her before he had to go to work for the afternoon. He might as well take the whole day off, he thought, and talk and fuck and suck the afternoon away, and get it all done at once. He might even be able to tell Joanie her father was in love when she got home from school that day.
"That's it," said Melba's voice from behind him, and Harold turned about to face her, framed like a master's painting in the doorway of the room where he was working. "All out of paint," she said.
"What time is it?" said Harold. "I'll go out and get some more."
Melba took off her shower cap and shook out her long red hair again, and oh, what a lovely sight that was to see. And she said, "It's almost eleven forty-five, and you've got to be at work soon. We're almost done. I'll go get another gallon and finish it myself this afternoon, and then I'll get started on the trim."
"I can stay and help you," Harold said. "I want to stay. Melba, I want to forget about work this afternoon and stay here and, well, talk some things over with you."
Her plastic gloves joined the shower cap on the floor. Her smile was crooked and one of her eyebrows arched up as she pulled down the ring at her zipper and said, "You're going to your office, darling, but not before you screw me."
"Wait. Let me," he said, and hurried forward, passing up her glorious big tits to stand behind her and help her off with her jumpsuit, all the way off with it, till he was down on his knees and easing the suit and her sandals off her long lovely feet, then up on his knees to try to cover all of her beautiful bare ass with kisses.
But she turned about and bent and kissed him, and strolled off naked as could be and graceful as any stripper, saying from over her shoulder, "Undress."
Harold whipped off his clothes and threw them on the floor. He found her in the living room, taking the drop cloth off her big white chair, and again he was down on his knees and kissing her lovely ass, and up between her legs as far as he could kiss, up where all that warmth and sex began.
And again she turned and kissed him, but now she didn't run off. She stayed right there, half bent over him and smiling with wonderful warmth, while he got his hands on both her lovely big tits at once and felt them and softly squeezed them and kissed their perfect big pink nipples with his hungry, hungry mouth.
"So you're a tit man, too," she said, and kissed his mouth again, and sat back in the chair and began roiling her fingers in her lovely luscious cunt.
"I'm a Melba man," Harold said. "I love any and all parts of you, dear Melba, and if it takes me all my life to prove "What about this part?" she said, and four of her red-tipped fingers, two from each hand, were now at her loins to press in at her hairless cunt and extrude her big clitoris up at his open mouth.
He went for it tongue-first, swirled all around it and sucked it, kissed it, and was just settling down for another long and beautiful session of licking her gorgeous cunt when she said, "Yes, you're getting me nice and wet. Put it in me, darling. Put your cock in my cunt and fuck me. Now."
Harold felt like he was a virgin again. Put a little hair around it, went the old joke, and you can find the hole. There wasn't a single hair around this beautiful and anxiously waiting cunt, but it was only his clumsy eagerness that had him stabbing poorly at it with the big stiff cock he held in his hand. She wasn't even trying to help him get it in, the beautiful, sexy bitch. She was just lying back in her chair and smiling, hands on its arms, legs very wide apart, while Harold pushed and stabbed and suddenly found himself sliding into her feverishly hot, tight hole, so slickly wet he couldn't stop gasping and pushing till he was all the way in, balls deep in her naked body and starting to cum at once.
"Oh! My God! Sorry, I... OH!" he said, shoving and pushing erratically, gushing torrents of jism into that wonderfully hot wet hole, holding tighter to her naked thighs than he was to his sanity, and pumping out at least a pint of cream before realizing she was laughing at him. Harold could have cried. His cock went soft at once and slipped right out of her, and he muttered, "I'm sorry. I don't have any control around you. I just couldn't help it."
"Darling, I wasn't laughing because you came so quickly," she said, and leaned forward and lifted his face and kissed him. "I've always been flattered when I can make a mature man cum as fast as you did. And the very best sex is when it's out of control. Harold, I wasn't laughing at that. It was just that all of a sudden you looked like a clown in whiteface, and with white gloves on."
"Goddamned paint," Harold said, and got up. "Let me clean up. Then I'll make love to you again. I'll do it right."
Melba rose and pushed him along in front of her to where his clothes were, saying, "No, it's time you went to work now. I won't have you missing any more time for me. That was a lovely fuck. It was just what we both needed. And now you've got to go and I've got to go back to work, too. Don't pout. There'll be another time soon."
CHAPTER FIVE
Harold worked hard all afternoon at the office. It was Friday and payday, and on his way home from work he stopped and bought three very fine filet mignons, some mushrooms, some asparagus, and some baking potatoes, scrimping on his regular weekly shopping to be able to afford the luxuries. The luxuries were in fact necessities, in his opinion, for it was high time he and his lover and his daughter sat down and broke bread together.
He arrived home, out of breath, just before seven o'clock. He dumped his groceries on the sink and hurried on to his bedroom and changed to his paint-spattered clothes, and then he saw the note from Joanie. --Dear Daddy, it said, I'm upstairs helping Melba. Come up and see us some time. Love, Joanie.- Harold was struck with an awful feeling. It was one thing for Joanie to be around a woman whose morals were unbridled while Joanie's father was present, quite another for Joanie to be alone with the woman. He hurried out and into the elevator, and as he was carried upward he reminded himself that Joanie had known Melba before he had, and no harm had come from that. Quite the contrary, Joanie was the Cupid who'd brought them together, an altogether fitting role for his cherubic blonde daughter. She and Melba would have to get along and get along very well if Harold's vague plans for a permanent situation with the beauteous Melba were to bear fruit. He should be encouraging Joanie and Melba to be together as much as possible at this time, for if Melba was ever to live with him as his wife, she'd also be living with Joanie as her stepmother.
Of course Harold knew it was premature to think about marriage with Melba. The chances of that were slim at best. But she did like him, and that was a start. And he hadn't seen a trace of interest on her part in any other man. And no one likes to live alone. But it would be months, perhaps even years before their relationship was such that he could broach the subject with her. He was that sort of a man. Thorough. Careful. Not making the same mistake twice.
Harold knocked and anxiously waited at the door marked A. Joanie opened it, bouncing with effervescence, and threw her arms about his neck and kissed him very soundly on the lips, snuggling up against him as she did it, quite unaware that the lump in his pants was his cock. She looked just terrific and he told her so. She looked so terrific that he had to look twice.
On her feet were a pair of platform shoes, made out of woven straw, and adding several inches to her plump little five foot one frame. Her very shapely little legs were bare, and so freshly shaved they gleamed with a soft pink glow, all the way up to the very diminutive shorts she had on. These were of bright orange cotton, and fitted her almost shockingly snugly. Their crotch hugged hers so closely he could see the plump contours of that part of her through the soft cloth, and the legholes rose so high that a considerable amount of the round lower swells of her buttocks were nakedly exposed. And their waistband was a little too low on her round little hips, and tight enough so a small layer of her pink babyfat showed all around it. The shorts had a zipper down their front, no pockets, no decorations, not even a panty line to detract from their perfectly snug fit on her healthy young body. The halter she had on fit pretty snugly, too. It was the same color as her sandals, cut briefly enough so that the swells of her teenaged breasts showed in the front and at the sides, made thinly enough so that he could see the pink shadows of her nipples through the yellow cloth. And those nipples were erect just then in her pleasure and excitement at seeing him. Her face was striking, too, for her blue eyes were bright with that same pleasure at seeing him, and her silky long lashes had been darkened and lengthened with make-up. Pink spots of excitement or make-up showed in both of her dimpled cheeks, and smudges of pink around her mouth showed she'd chewed any lipstick off of her laughing lips. Golden hoops swung from her earlobes as she led him into the penthouse apartment, chattering all the way, and more golden hoops jangled at her wrists. She had several rings on her fingers, and pink lacquer on her nails. Her hair looked glossier than he'd seen it in quite a while, and its golden waves, though in charming disarray, made a perfect frame for her perfectly happy young face. She smelled so strongly of Melba's perfume that Harold was constrained to ask where their hostess and landlady was.
"She just this minute went in the bathroom to put on some lipstick for you. She'll be right out," she said, swinging her father's hand in hers, obviously proud of the way she'd made herself look for him.
"Did you two get much painting done this afternoon?" he said, still fondly drinking in the sight of her.
"Not much," she said. "We were out of paint. But the phone man came and put in three telephones. Can you imagine? And I helped Melba unpack some of her things. She gave me these shorts and this top. Don't they fit me super? And she showed me how to use make-up right and how to shave my legs without cutting them, and how I should always put lotion on them afterward, and she did my hair, too. But it got a little messed up when we had a pillow fight. Melba!" she called. "Daddy's here."
"Hi, Daddy," said Melba, slinking out of the hall in her paint-flecked red jumpsuit, with the slide of its zipper exactly between the big round swells of her tits. Her hair was in the same sort of charming pillow-fight disarray as was Joanie's, and like Joanie, she came to him at once, slung her arms about his neck, and pressed her lips to his. But there was a difference here. Melba's lips were richly coated with scarlet, and they were wide open for the freedom of her slinky long tongue to probe and seek in Harold's mouth. And Melba knew very well what sort of lump was pressed against her tummy, and she pressed back at it in a most promising way. Harold was beaming even more than his daughter and his lover as he held their bejeweled hands in his and said, "Well, at least I'm dressed for some work tonight. But not too much of it. I've got three filets downstairs, with all the trimmings. If you like, I'll cook them up here."
Both woman and girl said they were starving, and Melba gave the palm of Harold's hand a very significant scratching as she said, "Joanie, why don't you run down and get the steaks now? There'll be no more work tonight. Tonight is party night!" she said.
"After party day!" said Joanie.
"Yes, Joanie, run down and get those steaks," said Harold, and he scratched back at Melba's palm, and thrilled as her hand squeezed his. He told her what else to bring up and said, "Say, I forgot to get lettuce for a salad. Run down to the corner grocery and get some, will you? You'd better put on your long coat."
Joanie tarried what seemed an interminable time, and the moment she was gone Melba was twined all around and plastered all against Harold and they were kissing as hotly as they could and dry fucking one another like mad.
"I thought you'd never get here," she said, panting already, unable to keep her hands or her body away from him. "I thought about you all day long."
"Me, too," said Harold with utmost sincerity. "Let's not waste any time, my precious love," he said, and down on his knees he went, to cover her cunt with hot, hot kisses, and to find to his delight that the very tight crotch of her jumpsuit was already quite damp and hot and musky with her lusty need for him.
He heard the zing of a zipper coming down, and then the big brass ring was dangling before his eyes and his wonderful woman was hurriedly peeling the jumpsuit's long sleeves down her naked arms. Her tits were even more naked, jiggling heavily with the movements of Melba's undressing, their big nipples all stiff and crying out for the kisses he was giving her twitching cunt.
Her cunt was sopping wet! Harold only had time for a few fast licks at it before she backed it away from him and all but ripped the jumpsuit from her long legs, while Harold ripped off his old shirt and cast it aside. Then she was at him again, giving herself to him again, with her feet wide apart on the floor and her long body bowed forward, and her cunt right there for him to kiss.
"Suck it! Yes, suck it hard!" she said, voice all shaking with excitement, fingers at each side of her fully engorged clitoris to push it out for his lips and tongue. "Oh! Yes!" she cried, and placed a hand on the back of his head to hold him right there while she orgasmed.
She swayed and twisted and purred high above him, while Harold licked and sucked and lapped. She had cum with such remarkable speed! It proved beyond a doubt she'd been thinking of him. And it was so exciting to have her cum so quickly that Harold no longer felt badly at all about his premature ejaculation earlier that day when she had him on her big white chair. He was still licking up her juices when she squatted before him and kissed him on the mouth, and her mouth had never tasted so good to him as then.
He reached a hand down and tenderly felt of her cunt. It was terrifically swollen and wet, and he could feel it throbbing under the touch of his fingers. "I need more than that," she said, easing him back from her. "Undress, darling."
Melba stayed in her crouch while Harold tore off his pants and shorts. It looked like some sort of Yoga position to him, for she was up on her toes, her knees sharply bent and turned outward, her spine straight and her smile and her eyes focused on his emerging cock. Her heavy round tits were up high on her chest, there was a light sheen of perspiration on her glorious body, and her fingers were working smoothly and rapidly at her cunt, in anticipation of what it was she truly needed. Harold squatted before her and they kissed, and still they were kissing as she eased over on her back on the dropcloth, drawing Harold with her, reaching for his cock as she did and inserting it in that fever hot hole of hers with an ease that made Harold gasp.
He was fucking her before they were fully reclined on the floor. Her long legs were up and out, her arms were flung out at her sides, and a beatific expression lent her face a look of rapture far more calm than Harold felt then. He was clasping her hard and fucking her harder, when all at once her lovely face screwed up into an expression of sharpest ecstasy, her arms and legs went around him, and he started cumming with her.
Harold's ejaculations were searing bursts of sweetest fire. Melba's body, especially her hips, were in fantastic motion, and as Harold screwed and screwed and screwed, his hard and spurting cock was probing everywhere within her bony pelvis, though still tightly locked in the fever hot milking machine that was her cunt. He blasted jism into her and she took it all, moaning and grimacing beautifully, crying out in her great loving joy, making him cum just as hard as ever he could and then wringing further droplets out of his friction heated cock with shuddering spasms of her tightly clinging cunt.
"My God," said Harold, panting. "My God, that was really something!"
"Was?" said she, and curled an arm about his neck, raked his back most delightfully with her claws, and twined her long legs through his and all around them in the most sensuous of fashions. "Is my little man all through?" she said, breathing quite warmly against his lips, while her silky long body kept moving, moving, and her cunt hugged Harold's cock.
"I'll never get enough of you," said Harold, breathing quite heavily himself as a result of his hot exertions. "I've just got to rest for a few minutes."
"Joanie will be back in a few minutes," said Melba, and somehow quite easily rolled him over on his back on the dropcloth. "But lie back and rest," she said, easing her slippery lovely cunt up off his cock in a way that made it reach for her with stirrings of new longing. "Just lie back and rest," she said, stroking his brow, then sitting up astraddle him and easing her wet hot pussy up over his belly and chest. "And while you're resting, you may as well make yourself useful," she said, and blew down a scarlet kiss to him and settled her ass on his chest.
Harold wasn't really in the mood for it just then. He knew very well a man has got to have a few moment's respite after his best amorous endeavors. But there was her cunt right before him and there were her silken smooth butts under his hands, and Harold had very little choice but to dig in with his fingers and start sucking and licking her cunt.
"Ah-h-h-h," she said, smiling down on him, putting on a show with her tits and her hands. "Oh-h-h," she purred, and by the time the slow smile of renewing delight turned up the corners of her mouth, Harold was in the mood for eating her cunt. It truly got him in the mood when she said, "Oh, honey! That feels so very good. I've got to cum one more time, darling. I need it so very bad. Oh, darling! OH! AH-H-H-H-H."
Melba was cumming when the phone rang. She was still moving the luscious ripe fruit of her cunt in amazing ways over Harold's eagerly sucking mouth as she reached up to the glass end tab beside her white chair, picked up the white telephone and said, "Ye-s-s-s-s?"
Harold licked her harder, sucked her better, held her tighter by her ass. His cock was showing very definite signs of new desire, but the greater desire was his sudden need to make her cum yet again, while she was in conversation with some other man. He didn't slow down a bit, though, when Melba smiled and took the phone in both hands and said, "Joanie, darling."
Now Harold had time, time to eat her cunt out good and proper. It was extremely wet from their fucking, and he didn't mind that a bit, and now she had it in moving in very sensuous slow motion as she talked on the phone to his daughter, her voice growing huskier, her hand caressing her lovely big tits as well as the white telephone.
"You're at the store?" she said, rotating her cunt on Harold's extended tongue, massaging her left tit deeply. "I suppose Romaine lettuce would be best, but Iceberg would do just as well.... Mm-m-m-m, yes. I had a lovely time this afternoon, too. It's so good to find a delightful new friend like you...." She smiled, then tittered like a schoolgirl, then stifled a gasp in her little laughter and grasped Harold hard by his hair as he felt her pussy throb hard against his mouth while a new freshet of her juices flowed. Her voice was even huskier as she said, "You're the one who's beautiful, darling. And I've got so many more beautiful things for you to try on that will make you even more beautiful. Things to try on, things to do. . . . yes. . . . Yes-s-s-s, Joanie, it's something I love to do, with you," she said, and blew another warm scarlet kiss down to Harold as he found what he thought was a new way to tickle her clitoris with his tongue. She smiled and closed her eyes for a moment with the ecstasy of his kisses, and for a moment Harold heard the warmly excited tones of his daughter's voice as Melba in her orgasmic writhings ran the white telephone back and forth across her big round tits, and then she was talking into it again, saying, "Darling, come back now. We're starving for you and your goodies. Hurry, dear. Hurry!" she said, and blew a loud kiss in the mouthpiece, and hung up the phone and sighed.
Melba's eyes closed again, her face went slack, and her mouth came slowly open. Harold held tight and licked her really good, bringing her right on up to an orgasm that had her belly undulating and her great tits bobbing up and down and her cunt fairly exploding against his mouth. It only took thirty seconds or so from the time she'd hung up the phone. They still had a little time before Joanie got back with the groceries.
This was obviously in Melba's mind, too, for she quickly recovered from the last great burst of joy in her great body and rapidly turned herself about to fall on Harold's cock with her mouth.
Sixty-nine! Harold had fantasized about doing that with this beautiful woman, and now it was happening, and she was sucking him off with such gusto that he could only respond with more of the same at her cunt.
They were rolling around on the dropcloth, the room turning topsy turvy, their mouths still hotly active at each other's loins. And now Melba whipped her mouth off his cock and whirled about, flat on her back on the dropcloth, pulling him urgently on top of her, and demanding in the most urgent of manners, "Put it in me now! I need some cock in me and I need it now!"
Harold's cock slipped right in, practically fell right in, and immediately Melba's splendid cunt closed down on it like a fever-hot slippery clamp. Her legs went rigid and close together under his, and her body went rigid, too. And now her claws dug deep in the small of his back as she lay there under him, shuddering and shaking, eyes closed, mouth open, moaning, "Oh-h-h-h-h! Oh-h-h-h-h! OH-H-H-H-H-H!" cumming and cumming and cumming, till Harold's bucking body did the same.
He hadn't thought he had a bit left in him, and what spurted out came almost painfully hard. Still and all it was a wonderful and joyous experience, with his body in complete command of hers for a very definite change, and he kept it up and kept it up till he had no more to give, and till Melba's orgasmic shudderings had slowed to sporadic shivers.
Her legs, her body slowly relaxed under him. Still those orgasmic shudderings swept through her from time to time, but now her eyes came slowly and languorously open, and now she smiled at him in the most loving of ways. The hand that had been digging into his back now caressed him so softly, smoothly, from his ass to his shoulder blades, and her other hand snaked sensuously around his neck.
"I'm such a nasty horny bitch," she said, and kissed him warmly, softly before he could tell her he loved her for that.
She used her lips to push him back from the kiss, and she asked him, "Do you have to piss, darling?"
"Huh? What?" said Harold.
"Just a little?" she said, stirring smoothly under him, holding fast to his cock with her cunt.
"R-right now?" he said, and she nodded, and warmly kissed him again.
What the hell, he thought, she was the sophisticate when it came to sex. He'd already learned from her that he was more of a man than he'd thought, and he'd already promised to answer her every request of him. Harold found he could piss, even inside her body. It took a little relaxing, but soon enough his hot water was flowing, and the instant it did, Melba caught in her breath and hugged him very hard to her, features knit in an intensely orgasmic frown, long body shivering and shuddering under him yet again. It flowed in and out of her, and when at last it stopped flowing, Harold felt more drained than he ever had in his life, and Melba's shudderings stopped, and she opened her eyes and smiled at him.
"That was exactly what I needed to last me through the night," she purred.
"The night is young," Harold bravely reminded her. "And you might just get inspired again."
"I might at that," said she, though from the manner in which she tottered and teetered toward the bathroom, Harold doubted it very much.
CHAPTER SIX
Harold got up as quickly as he could, washed quickly in another bathroom, and quickly dressed. He was busily swabbing up the wet puddle they'd made on the dropcloth when Joanie came bouncing in with the groceries. She glanced around and said, "Where's Melba?"
"I think she went to take a shower. Maybe even a nap," said Harold, rising to his feet just a little unsteadily. "Are you going to help me cook, honey?"
"In a minute," she said, and hastily dropped off the groceries in Melba's kitchen, and hurried on toward her bedroom, pausing only to scoop up Melba's discarded red jumpsuit along the way.
Harold chuckled and shook his head at the innocence of youth. He was feeling more than a little good. His and Melba's sexual appetites were well, though a bit weirdly, sated, and it would be a good night for their talk while Joanie looked at Melba's color TV. First, however, there would be a fine meal, prepared by himself, to further satisfy them. And even before that, there'd be a drink or two to relax them for the evening ahead. And then there'd be the weekend. .. .
Harold went to Melba's bar and began mixing a shaker of martinis, good and dry, just the way she liked them. He was just adding the vermouth when Joanie came out of Melba's bedroom. She looked pouty, beautifully so, and her long coat was gone and her splendid little body was jiggling quite firmly with her rapid stride as she passed Harold by.
"Anything wrong?" he said, and sampled the chilled martini.
"Oh, she's locked herself in the bathroom," Joanie crossly replied. "She said I should help you."
"Well, give me a hand, then. She might still take a nap. She's worked hard today. Work with me while we talk. Uh, what do you think of Melba? Do you like her?"
"She's just super," said Joanie, rapidly emptying out bags, spreading things out on the sinks. "She's just super, that's all," she said.
"I think she's pretty special, too," said Harold. "I'd like for us to see a lot of her," he said, and smiled, thinking that he'd seen all of her there was to see, and that he'd never grow tired of seeing it all again.
"Fine," said Joanie, slinging things around on the sinks.
She wasn't in the mood to talk futures. Harold could see that clearly. And such talk was still a little premature. He suggested that she turn on the television, and she made a face at that and said, "I'd rather listen to Melba's records."
Melba's hi-fi was an expensive, complicated affair. Yet Joanie did all the right things, and as Harold refilled his martini glass, rhythmic music filled the penthouse apartment's cluttered rooms. Joanie went into Melba's bedroom again and returned looking a little less cross, saying, "She'll be out pretty soon."
She helped him with the preparations for their dinner, but her eyes kept glancing out toward Melba's bedroom. It was obviously a case of hero worship, a teenaged crush that Harold felt more and more confident could develop into a permanent bond between a loving stepmother and an affectionate stepdaughter. Those two would get along fine. And Melba was just coming along at the right time in Joanie's life, just when Joanie was sexually maturing, as was so very much in evidence by her extremely shapely little figure in the shorts and halter, by the fullness of her nicely rounded young breasts.
Harold was showing Joanie how to garnish the filets with strips of bacon when Melba appeared, making such a dramatic entrance that he was quite taken aback with it. All she had on was panties and bra and high heels, and the panties were something spectacular. Her red hair was all brushed out in its thick, glossy waves again, she had fresh make-up on her radiantly smiling face. Her largely exposed skin was freshly powdered and perfumed, but it was her panties that nearly knocked him out. She had on the same black heels with the pointed toes that he'd cum on, and she was wearing an extremely sexy brassiere, one with a ruffle of gauzy pleats that stood up around the tops of its cups. Its shoulder straps held onto the outer edges of those cups, and somehow the garment was made so its lace-covered cups pushed her creamy big tits up and almost out of the uplifting cups. Joanie clapped her hands when she saw Melba posing like a model in the kitchen doorway, but Harold was still gaping at her and her little black panties.
And they were little panties. Their waistband rode high on her hips, dipping low beneath her navel, and holding up a lace edged vee of blackest satin that molded down through her groins to just cover her pussy, and that was all. It wasn't till she'd turned about that he saw just how diminutive the panties were, for in their back there was nothing more than another concave black lace-edged vee, even smaller than the one in the front, and quickly disappearing between the oval round and perfectly matched loaves of her creamy white buttocks.
With her back to them both, and smiling back over her shoulder, she patted herself on her outer thighs and said, "Look, Joanie. It's right here a woman has to be most careful about not gaining weight, about keeping herself firm." She patted herself again, and very firm she was there, and said, "Once you start putting it on there, it's almost impossible to take it off. And if I'm not mistaken," she said, "you're starting to get some saddlebags, right there, my dear little Joanie."
"I am not," said Joanie, and looked at herself there, and had Melba look, and looked closely at Melba again while Harold sipped his drink.
"It's hard to tell in those shorts," said Melba, though Harold's observances showed not a trace of unsightly pads of fat on his daughter's superlatively smooth but admittedly plump pink legs. "Come with me and I'll rig you up and put you to the real test. It's time to change into evening wear anyway."
They went off hand in hand, laughing like girls, and Harold just smiled and refilled his glass and went on working at his pleasant chores himself. Melba could help Joanie mature and Joanie could help Melba stay young, and it could be a fine arrangement.
Harold was almost as taken aback as before when the giggling pair returned, for though Joanie's attire was just like Melba's save for the color, this little panty-bra set was on the form of his daughter. It was quite a shock. It certainly proved beyond any lingering doubts that Joanie was swiftly maturing, for she did have a very very definite waistline between her fine, firm, round hips and the upthrust bounty of her breasts. He hardly had a chance to survey her properly, however, before he was judging a physical fitness contest.
They had turned about, standing side by side in the kitchen, and placed their hands on their hips and bent over at the waist.
"Who's got any ugly old saddlebags, Daddy?" said Joanie. "I don't have any at all."
"And neither do I, Daddy," said Melba, and Harold set down his drink with a grin and got down to look them both over.
He patted Joanie's outer thigh and said, "Nice and firm." He squeezed and fondled Melba's outer thigh, ran his hand up between her legs till the side of it was moving in and out of the warm crevice and feeling of her narrow black satin crotchband, and he said, "Not much fat here, either."
"Come on, Daddy!" said Joanie, and waggled her perfectly round and almost completely exposed buttocks impatiently, and Melba squeezed Harold's hand with her thighs and said, "Yes, Daddy, do come on."
He squeezed and caressed and massaged between Melba's close, warm thighs, feeling a lovely renewal of stirrings in his balls as he did so, and he said, "Hm-m-m." He thrust aside the fact that Joanie was his daughter and he looked at her lovely round ass quite objectively, and quite closely, and found its tight pink flesh and perfect round symmetry to be all that any man could possible ask for-unless that man had felt Melba's beautiful oval buttocks perching on his chest. He patted Joanie's outer thigh again and at the same time Melba's, and he sighed when he rose to his feet and said, "It's not a cop-out, but neither of you have the slightest trace of saddlebags. Both your bottoms are perfect."
"I told you so!" said Joanie, clapping her hands and straightening up with Melba, facing the smiling woman and hugging her in her youthful exuberance. They stood loin to loin then, hands on each other's hips and beaming smiles. Joanie's red satin covered loins were right up against the black satin covered loins Harold had just so enjoyably fucked, and her red-covered titties were nestled close under Melba's black-cupped tits. Melba smiled more broadly, kissed Joanie on the tip of her upturned nose, and said, "You're perfect in every way."
"She's got a lot of growing up to do," said Harold, and went to get a martini for Melba and another for himself. "She needs the good influence of a woman around her," he boldly said, and he looked back at them and smiled, for they were still nestled belly to belly together, smiling warmly into each other's eyes.
They looked like schoolgirl buddies, not future mother and daughter. Things could very conceivably work out fine, he mused, as he went on to get the drinks, leaving sounds of soft tittering behind him. They were dancing to the music Joanie had put on when he got back with the pair of martinis. They were doing a dance he recognized as something called The Bump, where the dancing partners made soft and deliberate collisions as they danced. They bumped their scarcely covered hips together, their bellies and their boobs, and their beautifully sculpted bottoms, while Harold clapped time to the music and smiled. Melba had kicked off her shoes, bringing her to a closer level with Joanie, and now as they stood back to back with their hands on their knees, rolling and grinding their backsides together, Harold said, "That's how to keep those old saddlebags away. Let's dance!"
"Daddy's getting drunk," said Joanie, laughing.
"Daddy's doing fine," said Melba, as both of them came to press fondly at his sides, Melba with glass in hand to give him another small sip. "Those old clothes of yours just aren't the thing for evening wear," she said. "Why don't you get into something more comfortable. Go in my bedroom and undress. There's a nice white terrycloth my closet that should fit you just fine."
That word, undress, set bells ringing inside Harold. Every time Melba had used that word before, it had led to him tasting all the pleasures of the universe. He went in her bedroom and undressed. All the way. My God, she had a lot of clothes in her closet. That was the way models lived, however, lots of clothes, lots of money, always having a good time. He thought he found the terrycloth robe, but browsed through the richly colored satins and cottons and laces and polyesters again, just to be sure. Fantastic wardrobe. And most of it would look pretty fine on Joanie as well. He put on the terrycloth robe. It came halfway down his thighs, but both females were used to seeing a man's hairy bare legs. It was tight in the shoulders, but it felt very good on him, very comfortable, and the bulky front of it and its sash very effectively concealed the thickness of his cock that had developed again. He finished his drink as he strolled about the latest bedroom in Melba's life, just touching the personal effects of the woman he loved. Then he went back to see how the two ladies in his life were faring.
They were still dancing in the kitchen, much more slowly now as Melba showed Joanie a sample of the romantic dancing of the old days. Their arms were around each other's necks and they were nose to nose, murmuring little things back and forth and exchanging little girlish kisses. It was quite beautiful to see the way their tummies so closely curved and nestled together as they stood in one spot on the floor and swayed to the sweet smooth music. They were so engrossed in the dance they didn't even hear him till he set his glass down on the sink with an unnecessarily loud clink.
"Daddy, you look good in that," said Joanie, leaning back in Melba's long arms, and trailing her little hands down to the tall redhead's hips.
Melba, with her lipstick slightly smeared on her smiling mouth, looked down at his loins and said, "You look awfully good to me, Daddy."
Harold just laughed and sat down on a barstool, absently picked up Melba's martini and had himself a sip. "You two're the ones who look good," he said, shaking his head in appreciation. "Those underpants you have on are really something. The way they go 'way up on your hips is just a knockout. I'd like to have a picture of you two like that. I'd like to have a whole lot of pictures of my two favorite gals."
Melba said, "That can be arranged. I've got all the equipment for it," she said, and struck a wildly sexy pose, one which Joanie immediately mimicked. They stood with their hips cocked and closely touching together and their hands up behind their long hair, smiling provocatively.
Harold rubbed his hands together like a dirty old man and said, "Where's the camera?"
"Dinner first," Melba said. "We're starved." Harold worked more quickly then. He had a goal beyond the succulent juiciness of the steaks he'd bought, and that goal was presenting itself from every angle as Joanie in her little red outfit and Melba in her black bustled around the kitchen with him, presenting themselves from every conceivable angle. They seemed as excited as he did about the prospect of his taking some pictures of them. The time was right now, Melba said, for putting together a portfolio for Joanie if she was ever to have a go at being a model, and Joanie said she'd be happy enough to just have a portfolio of sexy pictures of herself like Melba's that she could show to her girl friends at some time.
It was wonderful for Harold to see them together like that, so warm and happy, so gay and affectionate. They pinched and tickled and kissed one another as the meal went together, and both of them teased him so unmercifully he couldn't stop grinning and blushing. The teasing increased when he put one of Melba's frilly aprons on, but he far preferred the teasing than the exposure of the big long lump in the front of the robe he wore.
Melba and Joanie sat down side by side at the table Joanie had set in the kitchen for their first meal together. They were kissing as Harold slid their hot plates before them and they still had their mouths working hungrily together when he put their salads on the table. One of Joanie's bra cups had slipped down a bit so that an edge of a heartbreakingly pink, sweet nipple showed above the red frill. Harold sat down across from them and said, "Stop that and eat, you wacky kissing bugs, before it all gets cold."
Melba's lipstick was liberally smeared around Joanie's upturned mouth as the grinning redhead turned from the kiss, surveyed Harold's spread of food, and said, "There's wine in the cupboard there. Get us a bottle of the '71 Bordeaux."
By the time he got it corked and back to the table, the girls had already started on their steaks. More than half of Joanie's nipple now stood out over the top of its red bra cup. His attention was more vividly called to it because she'd obviously wiped at her mouth and then scratched at the nipple, for now there were definite traces of scarlet around the pink. Harold didn't quite know how to go about telling her to take care of the slippage of her borrowed brassiere. It was quite a sexy view of her, really, with the push-up bra thrusting her teenaged titties up and in to form a very deep and very round cleavage, and that lipsticked nipple showing above the bra cup that was all askew. He didn't know what to say. At last he began trying to signal with his eyes for Melba to look at Joanie and somehow take care of it, but when Melba at last caught the eye signals she only looked at Joanie's exposed nipple and grinned and winked at Harold. When he could no longer stand it, he said, "Uh, Joanie. Your slip is showing," and he nodded her bulging right tittie.
Joanie looked down at herself there and said, "Oo," and looked up at Melba, sitting on her left. Melba smiled and righted the slipping bra cup and kissed her on the mouth, insuring the proper placement of the cup with pettings and squeezings of her hand while she did so. Without that particular distraction before him, Harold now dug in as heartily as the girls did, grinning through the meal, smacking over the juicy rare steaks with them, washing it all down with the fine red wine.
When dinner was done with, Harold said, "What kind of a camera do you have, Melba?"
"I have a hasselblad and a Nikon, but my Polaroid should do for a start. Why don't you start on the dishes while we get ourselves ready for a practice modeling session? Okay, Joanie?"
Joanie was all for it. She was wriggling her fat little bottom in excited anticipation as she left hand in hand with Melba. Melba's new dishwasher was still in its crate. Harold hummed and sipped the last of the dinner wine while he washed and dried and put away the dishes, then went into the living room and leafed through the pages of Melba's portfolio for photography hints while he waited for his two lovely models to appear. And they were indeed lovely when they appeared.
Stunning would be a better word for them, Harold thought, as he looked them over. His tall, redheaded model had on slinky long white satin pants and a little scoop-necked top whose bodice was trimmed with fringe that fell to her hips, and which revealed her bare midriff at her every move. Harold's little blonde model was also clad in fringed white, but her outfit consisted only of a bra top and panties. The bra was a trifle loose and the panties quite snug fitting. Both Melba and Joanie had fresh lipstick on now and Harold caught them in some bright and colorful poses as they danced and postured and played together for him. Melba got him a snifter of after-dinner brandy before the girls left for another change of costume. He sat on the couch to sip it, studying the first of his fruits as a girlie photographer and massaging his very nicely thick cock through Melba's terrycloth robe.
Out they came again after what seemed like a very long time, in costumes that were quite simple, yet delightfully naughty. Harold's Joanie was clad in one of Melba's shorty nighties. It was red, very plain, and sheer enough so that it looked very much as if she had nothing at all on under it. His Melba's was just like what Joanie wore, but it was floor length and of navy blue, with its skirt full enough to swirl all about the shadows of her long legs as again they danced and posed for him. He took a dozen really good shots before they went off to Melba's wardrobe closet again, leaving Harold smiling and sipping his drink Melba had a truly bewildering display of flashy yet tastefully sexy clothes. Why not? It was her stock in trade. Harold was enjoying himself immensely, and so were the girls. He'd never seen Joanie's smile so dazzling, her eyes so brightly shining, and of course Melba would be as stunning in burlap as she was in silks and satins. He was getting a little drunk, but no one seemed to mind. At one point in the modeling and photography session he went through half a roll of film before realizing his cock was standing up out of his robe, but Melba just laughed and Joanie just blushed and smiled. He knew he was getting too drunk then, but Melba just poured him another, and who was he to refuse such a stunning hostess. He didn't know what time it was when they came out for the last time. At least for the last time when he was awake. He did remember their clothes. He dreamed about those.
Melba was in an outfit she could almost have worn on the street. It's pants were black, very high waisted and tight around her hips and thighs, with pantlegs flaring widely over her high heeled, open toed shoes. Above its high waist was a snowy white satin blouse with very full sleeves and long, tight cuffs, wide lapels, and a front that didn't close till just above the waist of her pants. She was striking in it, with her long red hair flowing down over her shoulders, but no less striking than Joanie in her very contrasting attire. The well rounded body of the little blonde teenager was clad in nothing but golden coins. Her feet were bare, she had on a sort of loincloth, joined at her crotch, and made entirely of glittering golden coins, and a breastplate of the same coins hanging round her neck. Her splendid high tits were quite bare, their pink nipples quite turgid and upright, and only her eyes could outglitter the scanty costume she wore. Harold was down off the couch and on one knee taking shots of them before they'd even begun to pose for the camera lens, but who needed artful poses with subject matter like they?
* * *
The hi-fi was playing soft music now. It was getting late. Melba turned the lights lower and bowed to Joanie, who curtsied and moved into her open arms to dance. The lights were too low for photography, but not too low for Harold to fully appreciate the fluid beauty of the pair as they moved to the sighing music. Joanie was sighing, too. In heels, Melba was up to her full, imposing height, and thus Joanie's sweet face was nestled against her chest. Joanie's full pinked lips were there in the vee of Melba's cleavage as the redhead took the lead and Joanie followed her with her eyes closed, her lips parted, sighing. Melba was smiling dreamily, placing soft kisses through the golden crown of hair on Joanie's head, holding her warmly and well. Joanie was in good hands, Harold decided, as he drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Harold awoke with a grinding hangover. At some time in the night one of the girls had thrown a knitted afghan comforter over him. And at some time in the night he'd had a dream that Melba had come to him, ravenous for him.
She had appeared in a long black sheer nightgown, had sucked him to hardness and then sat on his face till she'd orgasmed in a beautiful way. And then Harold had dreamed that she'd sat down on his cock and fucked it till she'd wrung him dry, and had arisen with a sigh and covered him up and gone off in the night. Now, lying under the comforter and thinking about his dream and his dream woman, Harold was quite easily able to tolerate his hangover.
Melba soon came breezing out in a pair of tight, knee-length denims and a white shirt that was knotted under her breasts. Bright and smiling, though with faint dark circles under her lovely brown eyes, she came to him and knelt and kissed him lightly, and said, "That was lovely last night, Harold. Every bit of it."
He chuckled and said, "You and Joanie certainly seemed to hit it off together."
"Your daughter's a beautiful girl," said Melba, stroking his brow and smiling down at him. "I could learn to like her. A lot. And you, too," she said, and tweaked his nose and pursed her scarlet lips at him.
"Well," said Harold, "Joanie's a good kid and she likes to have a good time, and you sure know how to help her have a good time from the looks of you two together last night. From now on she's liable to be up here pestering you half to death."
"I think I know how to handle a girl her age."
"I like to think I know how to handle a girl your age," Harold said, and his hand petted and roved over her tightly clad bottom. "Is Joanie still asleep?"
"Like a baby," Melba assured him.
Harold grinned and said, "How would you like to have that precious cunt of yours licked this morning?"
She kissed him again, wrinkled her nose, and said, "I'd love it. Why don't you slip in and take a shower first. You can use mine. Joanie won't wake up. I'll start some coffee going."
Harold tiptoed into Melba's big bedroom. Joanie was still asleep, the covers thrown down to her waist. He took a warm shower, thoroughly lathering up with Melba's fragrant soap, and had a look at all her perfumes and lotions while he dried himself off. His terrycloth robe had gotten soiled. He tiptoed back into the bedroom where Joanie was sleeping and put it in the laundry hamper, then moved quietly to the side of the bed to survey the young beauty sleeping there.
She looked like an angel in repose, a naughty little angel with her perfect titties and her slightly smiling lips just a little smudged with scarlet. And her titties were certainly perfect. Of course there wasn't the smallest hint of a wrinkle or sag to them, for she was so very young, but still and all they had the fullness of the tits of a mature woman. Her nippes were adorable. The merging of flawless white into exquisitely corrugated pink was so vividly striking that Harold had to bend and draw a circle with his finger about each aureole, while the girl with the gleaming gold hair just went on smiling and sleeping.
Melba's king-sized bed was badly rumpled, as if she and Joanie had done some girlish tussling before they'd dropped off to sleep. It smelled so of Melba's perfume that Harold was constrained to stroke his fully thickened cock a few times as he gazed down at the lovely girl sleeping before him, hands flung out at the sides of her head, looking so very contented as she slept. He wanted to give that girl the best of everything in life, and just at the moment, the idea of a career in modeling didn't seem bad at all. He quietly left her there.
"I see you've brought your tools with you," said Melba from behind the breakfast bar.
Harold grinned down at his stiff cock as he approached her, and said, "I came here to work, lady, and I came prepared."
"Well, come around here," she said, "and see if you can take care of whatever this is I got on this barstool."
On rounding the breakfast bar Harold stopped, for she'd taken off her denims for him. "You angel," he said, and went right back to their game. Down on his knees he went, as she swiveled about on the black leatherette to face him. Her long thighs came apart with alacrity, and Harold had to stifle a groan of desire before he said, "I don't know what that is, lady, but it sure looks like it needs some taking care of. Here, let me have a closer look at it," he said, and that was where their game ended and their real fun began, for at the first scent of her loveliest beauty, Harold could do nothing else but go right ahead and eat it.
She rumpled his hair, near purring with her contentment, and said, "How often do you have a nice breakfast like this?"
He stopped just long enough to reply, "Not nearly often enough. I'd like it three times a day," tie said, and fastened his lips to her clitoris again, and sucked and licked it till she came in a lovely way for him.
Harold's prick was oozing when she tugged at his ears to pull him to his feet. Melba's lovely hairless cunt was right at a level with his stiff cock as she sat on the barstool, and beautifully wet and swollen from his kisses. "I love you," he murmured, as she slipped his cock within the portals of her cunt and at the same moment slipped her tongue in his mouth.
They didn't stop kissing while he fucked her. And this time he was able to last for a respectable time before the constant fever of her cunt forced his cock to spurt and gush in her with such gusto that his jism frothed pearly white against the rich pinkness of her fat cuntal mounds. She drew her smiling lips from his, and he fell on her throat with his kisses, murmuring over and over again that he loved her, he loved her all ways and always. She chuckled and murmured back to him, "Let's see if you still love me with a paint brush in your hand."
There were a lot of windows in the landlady's apartment and a great deal of trim to be enameled. But the view of the city below was splendid, almost as splendid as the view of Melba working along at Harold's side. They were making good progress, talking a little and saying a lot, the way that lovers do. At a little after ten, Joanie made her appearance, and Harold called out to her, "Hi, sleepyhead."
She turned and stuck her pink tongue out at him, and he laughed and said, "She's always impossible first thing in the morning, Melba."
Joanie looked great in one of Melba's panty-bra outfits. The panties were made of heavy white satin, bikini cut, and somewhat more substantial than the little black panties she'd worn for her physical fitness contest with Melba. The panties were almost two inches wide where they rode over her nubile hips, and their seat covered fully half of her charmingly round buttocks. The front panel dipped well below her very firm navel and had a crotch that was heavily embroidered with brown lace. The brassiere was another of the push-up, push-together kind with quite a wide backstrap, and with matching brown lace embroidered across the tops and along the undersides of the cups. Though it was Melba's brassiere, Joanie had cinched it tightly enough so that its cleavage producing effect was not by any means lost on her appreciably smaller but nevertheless full titties. Her feet were bare, and then her tongue was bared again at Harold as she went to Melba, nestled in her arms, and said, "What's for breakfast? You said you'd have something nice for me when I woke up."
"That was last night," Melba teased, and winked at Harold.
Joanie grinned impishly, went up on her toes to said, "Well, now I'm hungry and I want something good. Have him fix us something nice, Melba. I want French toast and bacon. Lots of it. And hot chocolate, too."
Melba touched the tip of Joanie's nose with her finger and said, "If you don't learn to be a little more civil to Harold and me in the mornings, young lady, you'll have a hot bottom for your breakfast, and I really mean it, child."
Joanie pouted. She wriggled her loins against Melba's. She stuck the pink tip of her tongue out at Melba and then at Harold, and said, "I want my breakfast!"
"And you're going to get it!" said Melba, and dragged Joanie off, squealing and giggling, back to the bedroom from whence they'd come. Melba paused at the doorway, with Joanie giggling like mad and pulling at the hand that held hers, while the tall smiling redhead said to Harold, "Why don't you start our breakfast, dear? This won't take long, and it's something our little Joanie is badly in need of."
"Glad to," he said, still smiling as the squealing girl was drawn inside and the door firmly slammed behind them.
Harold went to the door to listen for a moment. He deserved to be in on the fun, too, and he knew very well Melba's threatened chastisement could only be all in fun.
"Just look at you," Melba's voice said with mock sternness. "Prancing out in an outfit like that and getting Harold and I all excited, and then sticking your tongue out at us! Do it again and I'll spank you."
Harold heard Melba gasp and then there was a long silence before she said, "That won't do you any good. You're going to get a spanking and then you're going to change into some of my old things and help us paint."
"I don't want to," said Joanie, in the same pouting voice Harold had heard so many times. "I want to unpack more of your sexy things. Make him do the painting and you come help me."
"Darling, I do want that painting done some time." said Melba. Then Harold heard her gasp and say, "I warned you!"
Joanie was giggling harder than ever, and then it was her turn to gasp as Harold heard the loud report of a flat palm being applied to a bare bottom. "Don't! Melba! Don't!" Joanie kept shrilling, and the smacks kept going on, and on.
It made the hair stand up on the back of Harold's neck. He'd never laid a hand on Joanie in her life, and now to be almost present when she was getting a very sound spanking on her near naked bottom was almost more than he could handle.
The squeals rose in pitch. Curses were added to them. Still the spanking went on. And now there were sobs, real sobs to be heard, through the repeating applications of Melba's flat hand. When at last the spankings stopped, Harold felt both on edge and exhausted, and he listened closer as he heard Joanie sob and weep. At last the sobs diminished some and Harold could hear a part of what they were saying as they talked soft and low.
". . . make you feel better." said Melba.
"You hurt me. You really hurt me," Joanie said through her softening sobs.
"... take the sting out of it. Hm-m-m?"
"... better. Oo-o-o. Yes. Mm-m-m. Lots."
"... like that, do you?"
"... feels even . . . better! Ah-h-h-h-h .. ."
"... all warmed up. Mm-m-m-m-m. Yes-s-s-s-s. M-m-m-m-m."
"Oh, Melba!" said Joanie, and Harold rose to fix their breakfasts.
Joanie looked very properly chastened when she came with Melba to the kitchen. Harold winked at the tall, smiling redhead and moved to take their breakfasts out of the oven where he'd been keeping them warm. Joanie's eyes were very bright with the residues of her tears, almost dazzlingly so as she looked up at Melba at her side. There was a bright pink flush on her cheeks, her parted lips looked particularly pink and plump, and her hair was slightly disarrayed. Her borrowed panties were in slight disarray, too, cocked well down over one hip, and the blushing girl gave a sharp start when Melba tugged that side of them up into place. Harold tried to look her over with the proper degree of sternness as he put the plates on the table with pot holders, saying as he did, "Careful. They're very hot."
"Not as hot as Joanie's bottom," said Melba, and Joanie looked down, abashed. "But you got what you deserved," said Melba. "Isn't that right?"
Joanie nodded, a trace of a smile on her lips now appearing.
"Show Harold what it is that you got," said Melba.
Joanie's smile twitched anew, and she said, "Do I have to, Melba?"
"Didn't I tell you to?" said the tall slender redhead, and Joanie meekly turned and presented her backside to Harold.
Harold got down on one knee to look. The perfectly round, perfectly matching buttocks before him had been turned a light shade of crimson. Imprints of Melba's long hand could be seen quite clearly there, and he could smell the fragrant lotion that had been applied after this the first paddling of Joanie's young life. "It could be a lot worse," said Harold, tracing an imprint of Melba's hand with his forefinger, and noting that even this made Joanie wince a bit and squirm her hotly reddened bottom. "I don't see any blisters."
"Pull your panties up higher, Joanie, so Harold can see," Melba said.
Up they came. The spanking had certainly done wonders for Joanie's obedience. She pulled them so far up that their seat all but disappeared in the deep crack between her firm round buttocks, the better for Harold to lightly brush the inflamed flesh with his fingertips while he told the girl how fortunate she'd been to be let off so easily.
He knew very well she hadn't been badly hurt at all. He also knew the value of a bit of humiliation at a time like this, a bit of rubbing the punishment in, and so he brushed his hands down the pinkened backs of her thighs, between them as well, and said, "You got it down the backs of your legs, too. Good. I must say you deserved it, Joan. You'll think twice before sticking your tongue out at us in the future."
She was squirming constantly and almost gasping in her embarrassment now, and it was just the thing for her and Harold and Melba didn't let up. He winked up at Melba and she winked back and said, "Joanie, show Harold the front of you, too. She got a little there as well as on her charming little rump."
Joanie looked up at Melba with pleading in her eyes, and Melba just shrugged. Joanie turned around. "Hold them up high," said Melba, and the poor, chastised girl looked close to tears as she gripped her borrowed panties more tightly and drew up the front of them to a point where their narrow brown lace crotchband looked close to snapping.
There was only one slap mark on the front of her, high on her plump right thigh, and Harold touched his lips and his cheek to this in the aftermath of all her suffering. The chastisement and humiliation were over with, as far as he was concerned^ and now was the time to make light of it all and all be friends once again. Joanie's crotch band was pulled up so tightly against her that it was trying to crawl up inside her vulval slit, as the seat of her panties had successfully crawled up the crack of her lovely ass. Though the crotchband hadn't made it, it was so tight against her little pussy that at each side of it could be seen a plump extrusion of virginal vulval flesh. Harold ran the ball of his index finger over these extrusions, each in its proper turn, and with Joanie breathing faster in her embarrassment, he said, "She's very pink here. Did you spank here, too, Melba?"
"Let's see," said Melba, and got down on one knee at his side, and touched her lacquer tipped forefinger to the beautifully curved plump flesh on the side of the crotchband closest to her. "I don't recall spanking her there. But it certainly feels warm and inflamed," she said.
"Warm indeed," said Harold. "So warm she's perspiring there. Did she get any lotion here?"
"Lots," said Melba, smiling, her finger straying for a moment to the fully stretched crotchband between the plump warm mounds, much to Joanie's added embarrassment.
"What's this we have here?" said Harold, looking closer. "If I'm not mistaken, little Joanie's sprouting a few hairs on her little pussy."
"Oh, yes. Didn't you know?" said Melba. "She's got a nice little patch of fur starting. Spread your legs, Joanie dear. Show Uncle Harold what you've got."
Joanie uttered an anguished little moan, but she spread her plump legs as ordered. "More," said Melba, giving her a squeeze high on her inner thigh that made her gasp and jump as if she'd been shocked with electricity. It also made her place her bare feet almost two feet apart on the tile floor of the kitchen, where Melba and Harold crouched lower to look at her.
"You see?" said Melba. "Tiny golden hairs. Aren't they pretty?" she said, brushing her crimson-tipped fingers over them, making them rise and lay flat once again on the plump and very pink mounds of Joanie's cunt.
Almost all of it could be seen now, for Joanie's change in posture had her panties' crotchband almost within her young slit. Harold said, "They're so fine I can hardly feel them with my fingers. She's perspiring even more now. Would an ice cube rubbed over this part of her help?"
Melba stroked her chin while considering this. Joanie's hands were visibly shaking in holding her panties up so tightly, and she was breathing quite fast in her agitation and embarrassment. It increased as Melba's hand thrust Harold's aside to feel quite liberally of the blushing blonde girl's fully open crotch before saying, "She'll cool off by herself. And we should leave her with a little something to remember from her spanking for a while."
Harold nodded, watching Melba's exploring hand, and said, "You're right. You know what short memories teenagers have, though."
"Maybe we'd better have something to eat before it gets cold," Melba said, and withdrew her hand from between Joanie's legs to give her a little swat on her sore hip, one which almost propelled the girl right at them. "You straighten Joanie's panties for her, Harold. The poor girl's in such a state she can't hold herself still. I'll pour us all some coffee."
Little Joanie was indeed in a state of agitation. She was still breathing very fast and still quite unable to hold still as she let go of her panties' waistband and stood with her legs wide apart while Harold took his meticulous time about rearranging the panties' crotchband, their waistband, their front and back panels when he'd turned her around. When he was sure they were fitting her properly, he turned her to face him again, glanced up to see that Melba's back was turned, and placed a light kiss on the brown lace that molded so nicely to Joanie's pubis. She gasped and he thought he felt her hand touch the back of his head, and when he drew back and looked, Melba was smiling benignly down at him.
The breakfast was excellent. It had all that Joanie had ordered and more, but Joanie only picked at it delicately, being more concerned with squirming her well spanked bottom on the seat of her chair and trying to arrange her crotchband more comfortably over her pussy. Harold and Melba ate with gusto, talked about the work yet to come, and before the meal was over Joanie was able to smile again, her cheeks still rosy, and timorously enter into the conversation.
Melba told Joanie to take care of the dishes, a chore which she never performed in the mean little apartment on the fourth floor, and Joanie bounced right up and kissed her and started to clear the table. "What about Uncle Harold?" said Melba, and Joanie paused for only a moment before rounding the table and bestowing a smacking warm kiss on Harold's upturned lips. Melba lit up a cigarette and watched with Harold as Joanie, belly up to the sink, with her rosy bottom in cunning motion, went at her dishwashing with a will. And when Joanie was well under way with it, Melba rose and said, "Harold, let's go to work."
He followed her straight to the sundeck that overlooked the city, and there she turned and threw her arms about his neck and kissed him with more passion than she'd ever kissed him before, and that was quite a lot. To further add to his soaring delights, she drew out of the kiss saying, "You know? I might learn to love you, too."
"Why don't you think it over while I'm kissing that lovely wet cunt of yours?"
She wrinkled her nose and kissed him again, and said, "What have you got in your pants, luv?"
"You know exactly what I've got," he said, and stepped back and took it right out, as stiff and hard and thick as it could ever be in its life.
Melba flipped her cigarette over the parapet and got down on her knees and sucked Harold's cock, and he was sure he was blasting his load of jism through her scarlet lips before her lipstick smeared cigarette floated to earth.
Joanie got her way in that she didn't have to paint. She was given the task she wanted, that of unpacking and putting away more of Melba's huge wardrobe of clothing while Melba and Harold painted. Neither job went as fast as it should have. Joanie interrupted the painting too often, having been interrupted herself by the discovery of some bit of satiny lace or other too fetching to be ignored. Then she'd appear at the bedroom door, trying to look sexy as she showed off the nightie or the panty-bra set or the lacy corset she'd found. She'd try to lure Melba away from her work, saying she'd found something perfect for her in one of her trunks. For the most part, Melba went right on with her painting, though there were a few times she let herself be enticed away. And on those occasions there would be a great deal of giggling to be heard coming from the bedroom, and occasionally the sound of a sharp slap as well. Then Melba would come smiling back to her work. And in a little while Joanie would appear again in whatever her enticing costume had been, ruefully smiling and rubbing her bottom. Melba hewed right to her work, except for on three very thrilling occasions.
At about one o'clock, she beckoned Harold away from his work and led him quickly to a back bedroom of her old penthouse apartment. There she rucked off one leg of her tight denim pants and let Harold eat her till she'd had a good cum. They were back at their work when Joanie appeared in one of Melba's very nicely fitting bikini bathing suits. And again at about three, the lovers slipped off to a bathroom, and there they enjoyed sixty-nine to the fullest before returning in time to see Joanie in Melba's silk slip. And at about six thirty, when the light was beginning to fade and Melba had just had to give Joanie another spank on her bottom, the luscious redhaired ex-model took him swiftly to the sundeck, where she had eaten him, and let him have his fill of the taste of her cunt once again. And when they returned from that little party, she announced it was time to quit work.
"I'm taking you both out to dinner," she said. "Go down to your apartment and I'll pick you up in one hour. And be ready for the very best in town."
"Goodie!" said Joanie, clapping her hands. "I want to stay here and shower and dress with you!"
"No," said Melba. "That is out and there'll be no more arguing about it. Besides, I want to see you in some of your clothes, darling, not that you don't look very pretty in mine."
"But mine are all just terrible," said Joanie. "I hate them all."
"Nonsense," said Melba. "Your father worked very hard to pay for your clothes, and it's impertinent of you to say you don't like them. Go home, dear. With Harold. I'll bring down one of my coats for you to wear."
"Would you make it the mink?" said Joanie, as the two girls kissed goodbye. Melba agreed, and Joanie promptly got into the clothes she'd come in. "Come on, Harold," she said, and crooked her arm through his and started for the elevator.
CHAPTER EIGHT
While Joanie showered, Harold undressed and laid out his best suit, although it had a spot on the pants, and polished his shoes. He was eager for their Saturday night out and eager to look his best. Joanie was taking too long in the shower, just as he'd known she would, and at last he opened the bathroom door and told her to get moving, he had to shave as well as shower. She opened the shower curtain and looked him up and down with cool interest, and said, "You can start shaving now, if you want. I'll be right out."
Harold wrapped a towel around his waist and started to shave. He could soon feel Joanie's eagerness as well as his own as she bustled around in the cramped bathroom with him with another of their shabby old towels wrapped around her torso. She left and he showered and dressed, wearing his favorite tie and his best white shirt, and then sat down and tried to get interested in television. Joanie came out looking grumpy but very pretty in the little panty-bra set he'd bought her for her birthday. It was yellow, with ruffles on the bra and the panties as well. It was the first time he'd seen it on her. She'd almost outgrown it and almost worn it out with its many washings, but still it looked very pretty on her, with its ruffles across the seat of the panties and on the undersides of its overflowing brassiere.
"Do you think I should wear stockings?" she said. "I'm going to wear that green thing you bought me for Christmas."
"I think hose would be in order," Harold told her. "Melba will be taking us to a very nice place. You look very pretty, Joan."
"I'd look even prettier in some of Melba's clothes," she said, and flounced back to her bedroom to complete her preparations for their date.
The green thing was an emerald green skirt, straight and plain and coming down to her dimpled knees, with a little matching jacket. It was worn over a plain white blouse with a Peter Pan collar, and though she'd been thrilled when she'd gotten the clothes as presents, even Harold had to admit they looked drab and dreary now that he'd seen the plump little blonde in some of Melba's flashy attire. Of course it would cost a fortune to outfit Joanie with a wardrobe like Melba's, but Harold mentally dressed the girl in many of Melba's things as they both sat and tried to look at television while they waited.
Both of them were up from the couch at the first knock at their door, and both stepped back smiling when they saw their caller. Melba was clad in another of her jumpsuits. It had a turtle neck, long tight sleeves, and pantlegs that flared out from her knees very very widely, while the rest of it fitted her angular curves with exactitude. It was all black and white. It flaunted one white pantleg and one white sleeve, with the smoldering black starting at a diagonal line across her big tits. A long fringe of black hung down from that diagonal line and another hung from the diagonal separation of black to white that ran from her hip to her crotch. A black orchid graced the flaming glossiness of her long hair, and her red-lacquered toes peeped out from the black high heeled shoes she had on her feet. The black of her jumpsuit had the wet look to it, the white was subtly speckled with silver. Over her arm was slung a mink coat.
"Darling, you look lovely," she said to Joanie, taking her hands and smiling down at her. "And you look very nice, too, Harold," she said.
"I look like a dumb grammar school girl,"
"I like you that way, and I'm sure Harold does, too," said Melba, and kissed the tip of Joanie's nose. "I brought the mink you wanted. Try it on."
Harold helped Joanie into it. The moment she was swathed in the luxurious furs, Joanie's whole demeanor changed. She hugged it all around herself, strutted back and forth through the hall and the apartment, and then took Harold and Melba by the arms and said, "Let's go!"
Harold's six year old VW bug simply wouldn't do for this occasion. They took Melba's white Bentley sedan, with Harold behind the wheel, Joanie beside him, and Melba seated by the window with her hand holding Joanie's on Joanie's knee. Joanie was so excited about going out to a fancy restaurant she could hardly hold still, and couldn't stop talking and giggling. And it was a fancy restaurant where Melba directed Harold, a large place, softly lit with crystal chandeliers, featuring excellent service and food. As soon as they entered the headwaiter greeted her by her name and led them to a circular banquette booth, where Melba was seated between her two guests for the evening.
Cocktails were ordered, and Joanie was given a sip of Melba's Manhattan. The fourteen-year-old was still all atwitter about the entire experience, all bundled up in her fine mink coat and from time to time hugging Melba's arm. Harold was pretty excited about it himself, and from time to time he squeezed hands and scratched palms with Melba under cover of the dazzling white tablecloth. He felt as if he'd never stop smiling as he looked at his stunning redhead and his effervescent blonde by candlelight, across a table set with silver and finest china.
Melba ordered for all of them. Prime rib, salad, soup, French wine. It was during the soup course that Joanie excused herself from the table and went wriggling off to the ladies' room in her borrowed mink coat. She was back in just a few minutes. She went to Harold's side of the table, took a bundle of green and white from under the mink, and said, "Here. Take this." Then she went around and sat beside Melba again, picked up the redhead's wineglass, and took a big sip from it.
"This is your dress and blouse!" Harold whispered, and quickly hid it between himself and Melba. "What have you got on under that coat?"
In reply, Joanie opened the coat a bit, enough for Harold to see her yellow ruffled brassiere and the firm round bulges of her titties. He glanced around them in a minor panic, but Melba merely reached down towards Joanie's lap, opened the coat there, apparently, and said, "Panty-hose. Oh, how I detest panty-hose."
"Excuse me," said Joanie, and off she went to the ladies' room again, and now when she returned, she handed Harold her panty-hose. Joanie smiled smugly up at Melba while Melba made another examination of what was within the lower folds of her mink, and Melba smiled and said, "That's better."
The prime rib was excellent, cooked to perfection, succulent and juicy. All else was forgotten for a time while the three of them dug in. Melba kept Joanie away from the baked potato, and only let the girl drink sparingly of her wine. By the time Harold and Melba were enjoying their after dinner drinks, a very contented Joanie was snuggled so closely against Melba's side that Harold was getting embarrassed.
"Don't you think you two ought to, uh, exercise a little restraint in your affections toward one another in public?" he said.
"Who cares what people say?" said Melba, and slipped her hand within Joanie's mink and made the girl smile and fairly purr. "But you're right," she said with a sigh, and removed her roving hand. "Not everyone is as understanding about warm relationships as we three are. Shall we go?"
Harold was only too happy to go. He didn't notice any of the other diners glaring at them when Melba had paid the check and they were walking out, but he felt that at any minute the dress and blouse and panty-hose bulking under his coat would fall out and let everyone know he had a near nude sex kitten on his hands as well as the beautiful redhead in her striking suit of fringed black and clinging white.
Joanie was practically gnawing at Melba's arm as they waited for the attendant to bring the Bentley. Once inside it, Melba's hand immediately resumed its explorations within Joanie's mink coat, and Harold hadn't driven them two blocks before his two girls' arms were about each other and they were exchanging a very warm and open-mouthed kiss.
He found he could handle the stares of the occasional passing motorist who chanced to notice the clinging embrace of the two women in the front seat of the big Bentley. After his apprehension and embarrassment in the restaurant, this was an easy thing for him to handle. Joanie was getting quite excited from the kisses of Melba's scarlet lips on hers and the rovings of Melba's hand within her mink. Melba, as always, was handling it all quite well. Harold was wondering if Joanie had any panties on, or if she'd taken them off to replace them with the panty-hose when they'd been back in their apartment waiting for this lovely evening. He placed his hand on her knee, felt the luxurious silky thickness of the mink she had on, and then went on to feel that different but no less luxurious sort of silkiness of her bare knee.
Joanie scarcely noticed it. She was far too involved with her breathy kissings and pawings at the lady who had made the evening possible. Harold ran his hand up and down Joanie's right thigh, feeling it, petting it, getting ever closer to where he could ascertain if her old yellow brassiere was the only stitch she had on under the coat. He smiled when his little finger touched tight nylon between the girl's plump round thighs. Joanie had her panties on. They felt very nice, very warm, and Harold felt with more of his fingers while Joanie remained totally absorbed in her almost amusingly enthusiastic smooching with Melba.
Though Joanie's legs were moving, squirming, they were for the most part open, and Harold could feel through the thin nylon that she was getting quite damp as well as quite warm. The panties' crotchband, thin as it was from their many washings, was very nearly saturated with smooth, slick wetness. It was also very tight on her because of all her squirmings about in the mink coat, and when he'd stopped at a signal, he turned to Joanie and said, "Raise up just a little, honey, and pull your pretty panties down just a bit."
"Huh?" she said, when Melba eased her out of another deep kiss. Joanie looked down at herself by the light of a streetlamp, saw the mink open all down the front of it and saw Harold's hand resting warmly on her thigh, just next to the very tight yellow panties she had on. "R-aise up?" she said, confused by the wine, confused by all the excitement of the evening.
"Yes, darling, raise up a bit and let Harold help you," said Melba, and now Joanie did lift her hips from the seat. Melba loosened the tightly binding panties from Joanie's loins, and Harold's hand was back between Joanie's thighs before they'd crossed the intersection.
"Oh! Oh!" said Joanie, and now there was apprehension to be heard in her voice as two of Harold's fingers slipped within her loosened crotchband and then within her very wet and creamy little slit.
"Relax, darling," said Melba, and kissed the squirming blonde again, and massaged her titties through her yellow bra.
"Yes. Yes, but. . .," Joanie said, and gasped as Harold's little finger came in contact with her clit.
"Then relax, silly, said Melba, and she laughed and took her in her arms again, and Harold slipped and took her in her arms again, and Harold slipped another finger in her squirming slit.
Joanie had a firm little clit, not nearly as large as Melba's, but destined perhaps to grow with years of, being sucked on and played with as he was playing with hers now. There was no denying the sensitivity of that tiny little clit. Each movement of his fingers against it became greatly amplified into movements of her entire body as she kissed and sucked on Melba's mouth, and when Harold chose to stop the movements of his fingers there, Joanie was quick to move her clit against his hand. She was very wet and getting wetter. What had started as a simple seeking to see if she had her panties on had quickly grown into a much more urgent seeking on Joanie's part. Harold toyed and played with her more ardently, determined now to help her in her need. And that need was reaching nearly frantic stages now as Joanie squirmed and thrust her little hips with every greater agitation, and clung tightly as could be to Melba, panting and moaning and yessing as Melba murmured warmly in her ear.
"Yes! Yes, YES! OH, YES!" Joanie was saying as Harold drove them on toward home, diddling her cunning clit and sopping pussy just as nicely as he could to bring her to a peak and let her rest. "Yes! Oh! OH!" she said, in a loud and guttural shriek, as that peak came and Melba's mouth mashed down on hers.
The shudderings, the aftershocks of orgasm lasted Joanie for several blocks. Harold patted her knee and left her alone, knowing she might be embarrassed to leave the car and enter the apartment building and the elevator in any state of renewed excitement. But Melba turned mischievous then, with Joanie's inadvertent help, and used her long slim fingers where Harold had been, so that by the time Harold had the car parked, little Joanie was squirming and panting as much as ever. The sweet young thing was in such a state she didn't realize where they were till Melba opened the car door and got out.
"We're home?" Joanie said.
"That's right," said Melba from behind he extended hand. "Come, dear. It's time to go up to the penthouse and relax. You'd better close your coat, darling. We wouldn't want the other tenants getting any ideas about us."
Joanie kept her hands plunged deep in the pockets of her coat as they walked through the underground garage to the elevator. Harold knew very well she was playing with herself through the pockets, but this was no time to reprimand her for that, and he could hardly blame her for it to begin with. The coat came open in the elevator and her arms went up and around Melba's neck, not to be removed till they reached the sixteenth floor, where Melba's lips were drawn from Joanie's with the sigh of the opening elevator doors. Harold put his arm about Joanie's shoulders, felt her shaking and her rapid breathing, while Melba turned her key in the lock and opened her penthouse apartment to them once more.
Once inside, Joanie did not remove the mink coat she so obviously adored. She let it fall open as she looked up at Melba, giving both Melba and Harold a front view of her firmly plump body, just barely covered with the ruffled yellow bra and the gossamer thin matching panties. Her mouth was heavily smudged with a blending of her lipstick and Melba's, and her blue eyes, though heavy-lidded, were shining like stars in the skies. Joanie licked her prettily puffed lips and said, "I'm . . . sort of sleepy after that big meal. Could we... do you feel like lying down for a little bit with me, Melba?"
"I feel like partying," said Melba, and she slipped an arm about the waists of both her guests. "It's still quite early. I feel like having a good time. What you need, Joanie darling, is to have your face washed with a nice cool cloth. And Harold, what you need is to get out of that stuffy old suit and into something where you can relax a little. Come. Both of you. Into my bedroom with me. I'll fix you both up, and we can party some more."
Harold followed along behind them. Joanie was leaning too heavily against Melba to be disengaged from her at the moment, and she continued to lean and cling to her as Melba opened the doors of her wardrobe closet to Harold and gestured at the vast array of colorful female attire there.
"This should be comfortable for you," she said, and took out a hanger on which there was a long satin robe of pale blue. "Its more like a smoking jacket than a negligee. Just slip out of your clothes, dear, undress and get into this, and then we'll have a brandy or two. Joanie and I will be out of the bathroom in just a few minutes."
Melba left the bathroom door ajar, and Harold couldn't help hearing the sounds they were making as he took off all his clothes. The long robe was indeed more comfortable than his suit and tie, and it was plain enough so that it didn't look too length mirror Melba had hung on the bathroom door. He could see Melba and Joanie through the crack by the hinges of the door, and now he stepped closer to see and hear better, for they were only a yard away from him.
Melba had taken charge of rejuvenating young Joanie. The little blonde was backed up against the basin, her mink coat fully open, and the tall redhead was going over her face with a towel, having already washed it clean with a cloth.
"Do you have to pee a little after all that wine?" said Melba, gently patting with the towel.
"Oo, yes!" said Joanie, and a very visible shudder swept through her fine young body, and the smile on her lips and in her eyes grew more bright. "Are you . . . going to help me?" she said.
"Glad to," said Melba, and set aside the towel.
They kissed, and Joanie moved over till she was standing in front of the toilet, facing Melba. Melba knelt and eased Joanie's tight old panties down to the middle of her thighs, as far as the yellow garment would go, since Joanie's feet were spread apart on the floor. And, kneeling there, Melba slipped her long fingers in and out of the curving pink flesh of Joanie's crotch, smoothing them over the tiny golden hairs there, and she said, "You're very wet already, dear. Are you sure you haven't peed in your panties already?"
"Oh, no," said Joanie, almost as if she'd been asked that question before under these same circumstances. "See for yourself if you don't believe me," she said in breathy, nervous tones, while she held back the folds of her plush mink coat with hands that continued to tremble.
"Now how would I do that?" Melba blandly asked.
"T-Taste me!" said Joanie, even more nervous now, and tilting her pelvis up at the kneeling woman's face.
Melba's tongue was very long and pointed. Harold could see it come out from her scarlet lips, and he could see the pointed tip of it disappear within the pink dewy slit just before it. Joanie gasped sharply at the contact of it, Melba withdrew it to say, "Tastes fine," and then moved to taste it some more.
"Nobody in the world can do that like you do!" Joanie urgently said, and Melba just nodded and went on tasting, licking, while her hands roved around Joanie's hips and buttocks.
"Still have to pee?" Melba asked, and tasted Joanie's clitoris again.
"Yes-s-s!" said the girl. "Real bad, Melba. I have to pee really bad!"
"Then sit down, darling," said the lovely redhead in black and white, and Joanie promptly sat down on the pot, panties down around her ankles now, knees out as far as they could go, breathing fast and flushing pinkly as she leaned back against the commode. Her ass was scooted forward on the toilet seat. It was very easy for Melba to continue licking with her tonguetip through Joanie's little cunt in that position. She went on teasing it with her tongue, licking, licking, licking while beautiful changes came over Joanie's face and she writhed in her growing joys and clawed with her hands over her plump pink body.
The pretty blonde girl on the toilet seat was panting faster and faster, and then all at once a shuddering sigh escaped from her plump lips and Harold could hear her water tinkling into the bowl. Melba went on licking, kissing now, as well, and then fastening her lips on the spot where Joanie's clit was and sucking so her smooth cheeks caved in, and making Joanie moan still louder.
"Uh-oh-h-h-h! Oh-h-h, Melba! All night long ... thinking of this . . . feels so good . . . uh-oh-h-h-h, you make me feel so good!"
Joanie kept cumming and peeing at the same time, and Melba of course went on licking and sucking. And when at last the girl's tinkling waters had stopped and she sighed and went limp on the toilet, Melba pressed a warm kiss on her little cunt, tore tissue from the roll, and blotted her dry. Melba helped Joanie to her feet, kissed her, and said, "Come, dear. We mustn't neglect Harold. Put on something of mine for him, if you like, and let's join him."
"What I'm wearing is good enough for old Harold," Joanie said, and offered up her plump pink lips to Melba once again."
"Keep that up and you'll wind up with another spanking, child," said Melba, and took her in her arms and kissed her, and they were still kissing and clinging when Harold moved away from the crack behind the bathroom door.
Harold was pouring two snifters of brandy when the girls came out, Melba still in her black and white finery, Joanie still in her old yellow panties and bra. The girl was still clinging quite closely to the tall redhead as Melba touched glasses with Harold and drank with him.
"She'll change into something nice in just a minute," said Melba. "After she puts some nice music on the stereo."
Joanie walked on to the stereo, with Melba and Harold right behind. The stereo was in the living room of the penthouse, where the long black couch and the big white suede chair were. And now there had been an addition to the furnishings in this room, for Melba had unwrapped and moved a large, four by five foot mirror against one wall. It was just propped up against the wall, but it gave the room an appearance of being larger than it really was, and it cast reflections of the people in the room.
Joanie started the music going, then started herself in motion to it, shaking her hips and her titties in what was meant to be a provocative fashion. Melba sat down on the couch with Harold to watch. They were holding hands. And then in the middle of her solitary dance, when Melba had declined to join her for the moment, Joanie stopped and pointed at Harold and said, "You sure look silly in that robe of Melba's. Especially with that big thing you've got sticking up from your lap."
"It's a very nice robe," Melba said, and smoothed her hand over the pale blue satin covering Harold's thigh. "And there's nothing at all silly about this," she said, as her hand moved on to curl around the satin shrouded projection of Harold's stiff cock.
"Well, I think he looks silly in it," Joanie defiantly said.
"You're the one who looks silly," said Melba, "prancing around in panties and bra that you've clearly outgrown. And washed so many times they're simply threadbare."
"I like them. They're my favorites," said Joanie, with her button nose thrust up at the air and her fists on her little plump hips.
"Come here," said Melba. "Let's have a look at them. Turn around and let us see," she said, and Joanie did so.
She turned and bent at the waist, and she wriggled her rump in a teasing fashion as Melba and Harold ran their hands over her firm round buttocks, so flimsily covered with yellow. And then, in a move that shocked Harold nearly as much as it shocked poor Joanie, Melba thrust her pointed fingernail through the seat of Joanie's panties and on up inside her ass!
CHAPTER NINE
"Eek!" Joanie screamed and jumped a yard. Harold gasped. Melba laughed and said, "Oh, that didn't hurt you."
"It did, too! Anyway, it sure didn't feel good," she said through a sulky pout, standing in profile to them and rubbing the ruffled cheeks of her ass. Melba laughed again and Harold smiled, and Joanie stamped her foot and lifted her middle finger at them in an obscene gesture.
"I've spoken to you before about doing that!" said Harold, pointing sharply at her. And to Melba, he said, "That girl deserves another spanking for that."
"Yes, and I think you're just the man to give it to her," said Melba, patting his knee.
"Oh, no!" Joanie said. "Not him!"
"Yes, him," said Melba, and pushed Harold up off the couch. "And I won't hear another word of complaint about it. Go to it, Harold. And don't be at all easy on her."
Joanie looked quite frightened. A spanking administered by a grown man was not at all what she'd expected. Her face had gone pale, she was holding her trembling lower lip between her teeth, and she held both her tightly clenched fists close before her loins. Harold glowered sternly as he came up behind her. He pulled the tight panties down over the thrusting protuberances of her buttocks. Her buttocks felt very smooth and very tense as he ran his hand over them, for her fear was genuine.
"That's right," said Melba from the couch. "Better hang onto yourself, dear, so you won't wet your panties when he spanks you."
Joanie's panties were bunched around her thighs, caught between them as she stood with her legs tightly clenched together. Harold saw in the mirror as she burrowed the fingers of one hand between her pussy and her panties, still atremble and waiting for him to begin.
He had her stand up straight as he applied his flat hand to her posterior. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! She gasped and went up on her toes, and wriggled her fingers in and out between her thighs.
Her buttocks had turned a pale pink when Harold began spanking her again. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! She was panting with the effort of being quiet and not crying, and her fingers were working faster between her tightly clenched thighs.
Harold had paused to let her catch her breath, but when she kept on breathing faster, he applied his hand again. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! She was frankly masturbating now, and Harold was not going to put up with that.
"Stop that right now," he said, and came to her side and yanked her hand from between her legs. He felt within her tight slit and said, "You've gotten yourself sopping wet again. We'll have to tie your hands up the next time either one of us has to spank you. Do you apologize?"
"Yes! Yes, I apologize!" said Joanie, in such a state of excitement she was squirming and thrusting her pussy against Harold's probing fingers.
He withdrew them at once, though she moaned with disappointment, and he said, "You certainly should apologize. Melba didn't hurt you when she goosed you. Bend over. I'll show you it doesn't hurt at all."
"Harold, don't," Joanie whined, and she gingerly pulled her panties back up in place.
"Joanie, don't argue," said Melba, and coolly lit up a cigarette as the girl very slowly bent and placed her hands on her knees.
The hole Melba had made in her panties was still right there. And Harold's finger was still wet with Joanie's cuntjuice. He slid his finger through the hole and into her as she moaned and cringed but didn't cry out as before.
Harold eased it out and in again. Her asshole was very tight but his finger moved more easily now as she arched her hips back to ease the passage. In and out his thick finger went, as he proved to her she'd had little to complain about. His palm was against the ruffles on the seat of her panties and his middle finger was going knuckle deep in her asshole, and she wasn't complaining at all. Her cheeks were nicely flushed again and she was breathing very deeply. Now she set her feet more widely apart on the carpeted floor and began moving her ass in counterpoint to the movements of Harold's imbedded finger.
"Does it hurt?" Harold asked her.
Joanie shook her head, blonde curls swaying, and said, "No. No, it doesn't hurt a bit now."
" And you won't be giving anyone the finger any more, or you'll wind up getting this finger. Do you understand?"
She nodded her head, fingers working at her knees, hips slowly working in time with Harold's finger, and she uttered a plaintive moan when Harold drew his finger out.
Joanie stood erect again, pink cheeked, looking up at Harold with a good deal of respect in her shining blue eyes. She molded closely to him when he put his arm about her waist and she came easily as he led her to the couch.
"I think she's learned her lesson this time," said Harold to the smiling Melba.
"She hasn't yet apologized for saying what she did about you," Melba coolly said.
And Joanie promptly said, "You look just fine in that robe, Da-Harold. And this," she said, almost touching her hand to the big cockbulge in the blue satin, "this doesn't look silly, either."
"That's a good girl," Harold said, and kissed her lips and found them very soft and pliable on his. "Now do as Melba says and change into something pretty."
"Before you do, dear," said Melba, "fetch us the bottle of brandy and the massager."
Joanie went off right away, walking a little stiffly because of the tenderness of her rear, and Harold sat down on the couch beside Melba again.
"You handled that very well," she said, and she placed her hand on his thigh and smoothed it up and down over the blue satin there.
"She hasn't had the discipline she should have had."
"You didn't carry it too far. I appreciated that very much, Harold."
"I thought I stopped it at just the right point," Harold said, and Melba kissed him very warmly and affectionately on the mouth.
They were still kissing when Joanie came back with the brandy. Melba said to her, "There's a package for you on my dresser. Open it and put that on, if you like. But bring me our massager first."
"For me?" Joanie brightly said, and kissed Melba and hurried out of the room, with her freshly spanked bottom jiggling and switching behind her.
Back she came in just a moment to plug in the massager. It was of the hand-held variety, where the hand of the user does the actual massaging, driven by the vibrating motor that the user has strapped to the back of his hand. Now the hand would be that of a woman, as Melba slipped it on and laid her hand across Harold's shoulder. "You must be tired," she said, "after all that painting you've done for me."
"It's a pleasure to do anything for you, Melba. Aside from the fact that I'm hopelessly in love with you, knowing you have done wonders for Joanie. Your presence, as far as I'm concerned, is better than if her mother was still around."
"I enjoy her so much. She's really a pleasure to be around, and it's a delight to introduce her to new things. Does this feel good?" she said, still working the massager on his shoulders.
"Wonderful. It was just what I needed."
"It might make you go to sleep early," she said.
"It might at that. Between your massaging and your brandy, I'm liable to fall asleep on the couch again and miss out on the evening's fun."
She smiled and handed him the bottle. He laughed and held it to his lips, but he didn't drink from it. He placed it by his side on the couch and said, "Yes, it's wonderful to see the way you handle our little Joanie."
Melba resumed the stroking of his leg, now with the added tinglings of the massager on the back of her hand. "It takes a combination of being hard and being soft," she said, and the hand with the vibrator on it curled softly around Harold's cock.
"Oh, Melba," Harold said, apparently a little too loudly, for Joanie appeared at the bedroom doorway, still in the process of changing her clothes. She stood there, watching through wide and shining eyes, without a stitch on her gloriously young and shapely body, while Melba bent down and took the knob of Harold's cock in her lovely warm mouth.
Harold couldn't hold back from cumming. Right away. He didn't even try. His jism poured out in torrents into Melba's enthusiastically sucking mouth, while the hand with the vibrator on it kept working up and down the throbbing hard shaft of his cock. Joanie stood watching as if she was paralyzed, fingers working nervously before her, pink tongue working back and forth across her lips. Harold came like a prize bull, moaning and gnashing his teeth with the ecstasies of it, then basking in the following ecstasy as Melba moved her mouth to his lips, and Joanie melted back into the bedroom.
"My God," he said when he could. "That was really something."
"I'm glad you liked it," said Melba. "I liked it, too. I like to do nice things for you and your charming daughter."
Harold smiled and said, "Somehow she hardly seems like my daughter to me any more. She seems like, well, just a very pretty girl whom I'm trying to raise in the best way I can."
"Between the two of us," Melba said, "we're going fairly well with her. She needs very close supervision, in my opinion. I think she may be a little oversexed, and that can get a girl in a good deal of trouble if it's not taken care of in the proper manner. Would you like another drink?"
Harold uncapped the bottle and pretended to drink from it, closed it again and said, "Yes, Joanie is more than just warm-blooded. It would take the two of us to see it didn't get out of hand. If, of course, we were raising her together."
"Harold, there's something I'd like to talk to you about," Melba said, and then Joanie came into the room, and Melba added, "later."
Joanie looked stunning, absolutely stunning. Her gift had been a beautiful white negligee nightgown, made of sheer nylon and trimmed with white satin ribbon. It had obviously been bought expressly for her, for all of Melba's long nighties came well past Joanie's feet, while this one swept around the white toes of her new satin slippers just right. Its skirt was long and straight, made with countless tiny pleats running down the length of it that helped mold its softness to the softnesses of her curves. It had a high, princess style waist that was closely gathered around her middle and which accentuated the very high and firm bounty of her breasts. The bodice was cut low enough to show off the cleavage of a more mature woman's tits, and thus it showed off considerable more of Joanie's young titties. It was held in place by two ribbons of white satin that disappeared over her smooth round shoulders, and now as she bowed quite regally to them, her pink nipples were quite clearly to be seen. She'd piled and pinned her hair high on her head like a golden crown, though here and there a wisp of curly gold fell down as a reminder that she was still a young girl.
Harold was too overcome to say a word. Melba rose to her feet, glided over to the beauty before them, and lifted her hand to kiss it. They began to dance. Melba, still dazzled by Joanie's fairness, held her almost at arm's length as they waltzed, and from the light to be seen in young Joanie's eyes, she was still being dazzled by Melba.
They were beautiful to watch together, Melba tall and gracefully stately in her suit of black and white, Melba looking more petite than plump in her gown of gossamer white. Harold, sitting on the couch, lifted the brandy bottle to his lips several more times, but still he didn't drink from it. He yawned, though he wasn't tired, and after a little length of time he laid himself out on the couch. The knitted afghan was still at the foot of the couch. He pulled it up over him and almost closed his eyes, and his girls still continued to dance.
Melba and Joanie were dancing closer now, and brushing their lips together from time to time. Each time Melba led them past the bright light behind the white chair, the transparency of Joanie's gown was so magnified that he could very clearly see every outline of her shapely figure. He was amazed at himself for not having fully appreciated it before this time. A little plump she might have been, but all of her plumpness was so very nicely curved and so very firm that it would be the envy of women much slimmer than she. Not Melba, of course, for her figure was perfect in every way, and perfectly shown off in her slinky suit of gleaming black and white. Both of them were perfect, in their ways, and Harold knew he'd never tire of looking at them, given the opportunity.
They were dancing quite close together now. Joanie's belly was nestled very snugly against Melba's lower abdomen. Melba was caressing Joanie's bare shoulders with both hands, while Joanie's hands moved up and down around Melba's long, slender waist, down over her hips and up over the swells of the sides of Melba's big tits. They were dancing erotically now, definitely the sexiest Harold had ever imagined, and under the afghan cover, he took his thick cock in his hand as he lay on his side and watched.
"Dance me to bed," Joanie murmured, when Melba had led her close to the couch again.
"It's fine in here," said Melba. "the music is better in here. The lights are better, too, to see you with. And Harold is fast asleep."
"Are you sure?" said Joanie, and Melba kissed her lightly and said, "I'll see."
She knelt beside the couch and brought her lovely face close to Harold's, touched her lips to his and slipped the point of her tongue in his mouth. He tickled back at it with his. She drew back and pulled the afghan over his face, rose to her feet, and said, "Yes, Harold's fast asleep."
The afghan's knitting was so widely spaced that Harold could see right through it. He watched, comfortable, cock in hand, while Melba led Joanie through another erotic dance. Champagne was produced from the kitchen and they toasted each other, linking arms the way lovers do and smiling very warmly at one another as they drank. Joanie still looked all flushed and pretty and more than a little sexually excited. She was a slightly oversexed girl to begin with, and their dancing together and in fact the whole evening had certainly had its effect on her. The Champagne had its effect on her, too. She'd be all bright and gay for a moment and flirting like a hussy, and in the next moment she'd be plastered hotly against Melba's slim form, arm curled up around her neck and kissing her hotly on the mouth while her hand clutched hard at the side of Melba's tit. Melba, on the other hand, seemed quite in possession of herself. Of course she was being very warm and affectionate to the girl, for it was plain to see she loved her dearly, but rarely did her hands stray to Joanie's titties or her loins, though Joanie gave them every opportunity for this.
Finally Joanie, bosom heaving against Melba's with her every breath, said, "Don't you feel good tonight, Melba?"
Melba stretched her arms and said, "All that painting. My shoulders are stiff. I'm still all over. Can't relax. Darling, would you mind running the massager across my shoulders for a few minutes? Then I might even feel relaxed enough to go to bed and keep some of those promises I made to you earlier today."
"Sure!" said Joanie, and gathered up her pleated skirts and hurried to get the vibrator from before the couch, and when she did Harold scented the healthy young female heat of her.
"Stand on the chair to do it," Melba said, and Joanie kicked off her white satin slippers and got up on the white suede chair.
It made Joanie tower more than a head taller than Melba, who faced the chair as Joanie slipped her hand through the vibrator's straps and began running her hands over Melba's shoulders. Melba's hands were active, too, moving around Joanie's hips, moving up to lightly cup and fondle Joanie's titties.
"Ahhh. That feels good," Melba said, as Joanie's vibrating hand worked across her shoulders and under her long red hair. "So does that," Joanie said, and giggled, and squirmed her titties closer in Melba's hands.
"Yes, you do like to have your titties played with, don't you?"
"Gosh, doesn't every girl?" said Joanie. "Don't you?"
"I love it. I love everything when it comes to sex," said Melba, and she drew down the negligee's little bodice and drew circles around Joanie's pink nipples with her long, red-tipped fingers.
"That's even nicer," Joanie purred, looking down at the fingers at their tender work there. "Can't I finish massaging your shoulders in bed?"
Melba only had to bend her head down a little way in order to kiss each of Joanie's very turgid nipples. As she circled the first with her lips, Joanie sighed deeply and reached down with the hand with the vibrator on it to squeeze and extrude that tittie deeper into Melba's mouth. She was massaging them both as Melba took the other nipple to suck and tongue for several sweet moments. Joanie uttered a small murmur of protest when Melba's mouth and hands left her body, and Melba turned around and said, "I'm starting to relax a little. Do my back, too, darling."
Melba lowered her head, and Harold thought he could see her smiling as Joanie and her massager worked on her shoulders from behind. Joanie scratched at her pussy with her free hand now and then as she worked, though only Harold could see that, for the mirror was set in the right spot for it.
"That feels so good," Melba said, and swept her long red hair forward over her shoulder. She was reaching behind her to pet and stroke Joanie's legs. Joanie was leaning up against her now, and now the hand with the vibrator on it crept down over Melba's shoulder, and Melba took it in hers, guided it on down to her tit, and said, "That feels good, too."
Joanie withdrew her hand the moment Melba released it, and the girl swallowed hard as she resumed the massaging of Melba's shoulders. In a few moments more, however, her vibrating hand crept down there again, now with no guidance from Melba, and Joanie briefly squeezed that big tit again and murmured, "Does it?"
"Feels lovely," said Melba, and kissed the massaging hand and replaced it on her shoulder. She stretched her long neck this way and that, sighed, and said, "Be a dear and unzip me, Joanie."
Melba held up her hair for Joanie to do it, and down came the zipper of her jumpsuit, and down and down and down until Joanie's hands were below the level of Melba's hips. The tall redhead stretched out her arms and yawned as Joanie with her vibrator worked her way up her spine, and then as the girl began on her shoulders again, Melba peeled down the sleeves of her suit.
Harold had thought Melba was quite naked under her black and white jumpsuit, but now he saw she wore black beneath it. It was a body stocking made of black stretch nylon lace she had on, long sleeved, with wide open vee neck that didn't close till it reached her waist. And around her waist her jumpsuit now hung as Joanie, still at work on her shoulders peered over one of them for a glimpse down into that vee.
Joanie was clearly fascinated by Melba's big, outthrusting tits that pushed out the black stretch lace and that were in turn pushed back by it to form a full round cleavage in the open vee. And now as Melba stretched out her arms again, Joanie's hands crept around her torso and each took a big tit in it, and she whispered, "Gee, they're so big!"
"A good deal more than a mouthful," said Melba, and gave Joanie a kiss over her shoulder, a kiss that Joanie tried to cling to as Melba turned her lips away.
Now Melba guided Joanie's hands away from her tits, of all things, and down to her long slim waist. "Do the small of my back, dear," she said, and Joanie's buzzing hand moved around to where it could work on Melba's naked back, for the body stocking left this part of Melba near completely exposed. Joanie had to bend down to do the job in which she was showing ever more interest, and she stepped down from the chair to stand at Melba's side as she massaged her bare back. Joanie's right hand was doing that, and her left hand was on Melba's concave stomach, just below the deep vee of the body stocking. That hand began to creep there. Its pink-lacquered fingertips stirred on the black lace, and Joanie moved her head around to look as those fingertips reached up to touch the bare flesh at the bottom of the deep vee. Melba looked, too, and she smiled as the hand crept on up, then slipped inside the lace to smooth over the silken flesh of Melba's right breast.
The teenager grinned and said, "Your nipple sure is hard and pointy. Like mine are when you get me hot."
"Mm, yes," Melba murmured, and felt of her own left nipple with her fingers, and said, "My breasts always were very sensitive. Even before the silicone implants. Careful, darling. Don't get me too hot or I'll have to go wake Harold up."
"Oh, he's so drunk he'd never wake up," said Joanie, still feeling within the body stocking at Melba's right nipple and breast. She eased around in front of the smiling ex-model, brushing her white skirted loins against her and massaging her waist, and then her other big tit through its cover of lace. "And I want to play with your titties just a little more," she said.
"You look so pretty and fresh in that little gown," Melba said, and Joanie sighed and melted toward her as Melba placed her hands on the girl's little waist. Joanie leaned back, shivering, as Melba's hands went up to her bosom, drew down the satin trimmed bodice of her negligee, and bared both her lovely pink titties. She cupped them and squeezed them and drew their pink nipples to firmer points, and Joanie's mouth went slack and her hands went down to Melba's waist. As Melba toyed with Joanie's perfect fat titties, the girl turned her face up expectantly, and Harold could see her thrusting her trembling thighs against Melba's long legs. "Oh, darling, I love that!" she said in a rush, as Melba bent and sucked one of her nipples with her scarlet mouth. Joanie held onto Melba's red head as the tall slender woman treated her other pink nipple in the same thrilling fashion, and when Melba straightened up, Joanie sighed and held onto her tightly.
Joanie's flushed cheek was nestled against Melba's right breast, and perhaps it was the insistent pressure of firm nipple pushing through soft lace that made her turn her head and reach up to draw the stretchy fabric aside. "So big!" she murmured plaintively when the heavy, full cone of Melba's right tit was there before her eyes, and then her little hand closed its fingers around it and her lips took its big, pointed nipple inside.
"Darling. Mmm. That does feel nice," Melba said to her, and drew the lace farther aside. Joanie was sucking with ever more ardor, holding tightly to Melba's waist now as Melba's lovely hands molded and squeezed her right tit for the increasingly hungry mouth at work on its stiff-tipped end. "I can feel your lovely kisses clear over here," she said, and she drew aside the other half of the vee to her equally stiff-nippled left breast.
Melba chuckled and eased Joanie away from her. She softly squeezed her bare tits in both hands as she said, "Yes, you've a lovely mouth, darling, and a tongue that seems to have acquired a taste for titty in no time at all. Now perhaps you see why I so adore kissing your lovely tits," Melba said, and she drew the black lace over her thrusting bosoms and covered Joanie's pink titties with the negligee's bodice. The teenaged girl looked close to swooning now in her excitement and in her venture into the hitherto unknown, and Melba just smiled and kissed her and said, "You got me a little worked up, dear. I'd best have another glass of Champagne while you take the kinks out of my legs."
Melba squeezed her big tits and ran her hand down inside the lower half of her jumpsuit as Joanie scurried to fill their glasses, and the tall smiling redhead gave a slow wink in Harold's direction as he lay breathing hard on the couch. The two females toasted each other, and Melba sipped while Joanie tossed off her wine at a gulp and put the massager on her shaking hand once again. Melba was massaging her own big tits in luxurious fashion as a very excited young Joanie tugged the black and white jumpsuit down over Melba's sleek hips. Joanie had to get down on her knees to take it off over Melba's high heels, and Melba helped her only by stepping out of the legs of her suit, preoccupied as she seemed to be with her cold Champagne and her very warm tits.
Joanie remained on her knees to begin massaging Melba's legs, starting at her very slim ankles and working up. Although Harold had expected to see Melba in a full length body stocking, Melba's long legs were quite bare, for the black stretch lace terminated at the point where a pair of snug panties would end. Her legs were quite beautiful as well as quite bare, and as Joanie excitedly moved her hands from one to the other, she said, "Gosh, your legs are so long and so pretty."
"So glad you like them, darling," said Melba, and emptied her glass, and set it behind her on the end table beside the bottle.
"Am I doing it right?" Joanie anxiously asked, up past Melba's knees now, and working her hands around the slimmest taper of Melba's long thighs.
"Feels lovely," said Melba.
"I'm so glad," said Joanie. "Gee, you've made me feel so . . . lovely so many times."
"Don't make me feel too lovely," Melba warned. "I might give you more of a workout than you've come to expect when we get to bed."
"Poo, poo," said little Joanie, and reached both hands up to massage and caress all around the legholes of the abbreviated body stocking, and on between Melba's long legs as she parted them. "You don't scare me at all," said the kneeling girl in white, with a tone of excited uncertainty in her voice. And then all at once she stopped in her warm massaging, looked closer at Melba's laced crotch, and said, "Are those snaps there?"
CHAPTER TEN
"Yes, it's got a snap-open crotchpiece," said Melba, and turned from the kneeling girl to fill their glasses with the sparkling wine. She sat down on the arm of the chair and patted the seat beside her. "And you'd better sit down and cool off for a moment, too, darling, or I won't be responsible for what might happen."
Joanie was grinning like a minx as she curled up in the big chair with her diaphanous pleated skirt over her drawn up legs. She took a deep sip from the glass Melba held for her, then handed it back to the woman sitting close by her side and said, "You think I'm such a baby when it comes to having fun with you."
"No, I think you're an adorable little kewpie-doll," said Melba, and she slipped her hand down inside Joanie's bodice for a light touch at each of her thrusting titties. "A kewpie-doll who's gotten her very best girl friend more than a little hot," she said, and withdrew her hand from Joanie's white bodice and placed it on her own black crotch.
Joanie artfully slipped one shoulder strap and drew the rustling skirt of her negligee up over her legs to mid-thigh, and said, with a little giggle, "My little old pussy is just as wet and itchy as can be!"
"Mmm. Mine, too," said Melba, and flipped open the snaps of her crotchpiece, one-two-three, and delved with her fingers under the open lace flap of it. "Sopped. Steaming," she said, smiling down at herself and her slowly moving fingers in such a way that Joanie leaned forward to look.
Joanie had obviously seen Melba's naked cunt before. She wasn't at all surprised by the lack of hair on it. But she was quite intrigued by what Melba's fingers were doing to it, intrigued to the point of leaning closer still over it. Melba obliged her by drawing the flap aside and baring the long pink gash between her lovely legs, and Joanie drew back for only a moment before moving her pink-cheeked face close beside it again. Melba's long legs were spread carelessly apart as she sat on the chair arm. The scent of her lovely hot cunt was obviously being inhaled by the very interested young blonde, for her nostrils were flaring with her every inhalation and she made no move to draw back from the glistening ripe flesh Melba toyed with. Joanie's hand had been nervously roving up and down her plump flank. Now it was quickly moved to Melba's thigh, as Melba spread out her fleshy bald cuntlips with two fingers and Joanie exclaimed, "Melba, it's so big!"
"It's all swollen up from wanting you," said Melba, and the hand she'd had on the back of the chair now moved to the nape of Joanie's neck. "In the state I'm in it's almost too sensitive to touch, at first."
"It's so much bigger than mine!" Joanie said, and in her fascination for the little finger of womanflesh protruding from between Melba's two red-tipped fingers, she got up on her knees on the chair seat, the better to see Melba's clitoris. The hand that was closest to Harold was again on Melba's thigh, while the other one could barely be seen to be softly clutching at Joanie's tummy as she gazed down at the stunning redhead's luscious big cunt. Melba stirred, parting her long legs a fraction more, and Joanie murmured, "Could I.. . touch you a little there?"
"You'd best be careful if you do, dear," said Melba, moving her fingers slowly at the sides of her extruded clitoris, making that part of her move like a small, beckoning finger.
Joanie's shaking hand moved up and she touched Melba's clitoris with the ball of her index finger, and she looked up with startled concern at Melba's quick gasp. "Ooo, it is real sensitive," Joanie murmured, and looked down at Melba's cunt again as she moved her finger there.
"Easy, darling," said Melba, simultaneously sighing and breathing fast. "It's divine, but do go easy at first. Yes-s-s-s. Ah-h-h. Oh, darling, now you're truly getting me hot."
"Really???" said Joanie, and used two cautious fingers on Melba's clit, massaging very slowly and watching closely at everything she did.
"Keep it up and you'll have me cumming, really cumming," Melba moaned, and drew her hand from her cunt to clutch and claw at her flat belly and her thrusting tits.
Joanie's other hand was quickly there to part the lips of Melba's cunt, and now the fingers in it were working with more verve. They tickled and teased and massaged down the full wet length of it, then came back to Melba's big clit, with Joanie excitedly saying, "You're so wet and you smell so ... so good! Are you really going to cum? Can I really make you do it? Oh, Melba, I just love to get you hot this way!"
"Oh, yes! Yes, baby, you're going to make me cum! Right now! Right now!'''' Melba cried, and went into contortions on the arm of the chair, grimacing beautifully, baring her tit and clutching it hard, and thrusting her cunt in gyrations against Joanie's suddenly more active hand.
"Yes! Yes, do it!" said Joanie, nearly as excited about it as Melba so obviously was, and pulling and rubbing at the woman's big clit while Melba continued to cum.
Melba peaked and hung there, while with widely excited eyes, Joanie gazed at her drawn back lips and her jiggling tits and her straining legs, all of that lovely slim beauty set into motion by her two busy fingers. The girl was undoubtedly so hot she was ready to explode herself by then, but still she kept both her hands ardently busy on Melba as the long lanky redhead put on a display of womanly orgasm that had Harold clutching harder at his cock. Her titian hair was falling all about her lovely face, and now in her twistings and climaxings she slipped from the arm of the chair into the seat with Joanie.
"Wait! Darling, I've got to rest for a moment!" said Melba, and pulled Joanie's hand from between her long thighs and bent forward almost double in the chair.
Joanie was as concerned as she was fascinated by what all she'd caused to happen to this beautiful and vigorously responsive woman, and she quickly made room for her in the chair. Joanie was out of it and on her knees before it to hand Melba her unfinished wine with a shaking hand.
"Are you okay?" said Joanie.
Melba took the glass and quaffed it, set it down and kissed Joanie with a fully open mouth. Then she leaned back in the chair smiling broadly, and she opened her legs out wide and said, "I could hardly be better. That was lovely. Just what I needed," she purred, as her long fingers moved down to warmly caress the very pink wet flesh that still held a fascination for Joanie. "Just what I needed to start me off," she said.
Joanie's hands were on Melba's knees. They crept forward now as the girl said. "Do you want me to ... do it some more?"
Melba smiled and said, "Playing sticky fingers is fine for a start. But now I suppose we should go off to bed, and I'll make you feel even better than I just felt."
"Does it. . . really feel better when someone, you know, kisses you there?" Joanie timidly asked.
"Mmmm," Melba purred. "It's pretty hard to beat."
"He . . . Harold does it all the time, doesn't he," said Joanie, with her hands creeping every closer to that long hand lazily toying with the warm pink flesh the girl had just touched.
"Yes, and he simply adores it," said Melba. "He can't get enough of it. He's worse than I am when it comes to wanting to kiss a girl's pussy all the time, and of course he's very good at it.
Joanie's buttocks squirmed on her bare heels, and she inched forward between Melba's widely parted thighs. Her plump little hands, all aglitter with rings she'd borrowed from Melba, now ran down Melba's calves to her ankles and the high heels of her shoes, then came up again to caress along the insides of her long slim legs. They stopped in Melba's groin, forming a frame for that lovely big cunt, and she said in a quavering murmur, "Could I kiss you there just a little?"
"Darling, be my guest," said Melba, and withdrew her hand from her cunt and joined it with the other behind her neck, and smiled as Joanie bent forward.
Melba's smile broadened at that first tremulous touch of the inexperienced tongue on her waiting cunt. Joanie drew back and took a breath and did it again, and now Melba's hand came down to brush the girl's hot cheek as Melba purred, "Oh, darling."
Joanie drew back again, and Melba squirmed her buttocks closer to the edge of the chair, rocked her hips from side to side in a movement Harold knew so well, and Joanie took another taste of cunt. The tongue of the teenaged girl, as pink as the cunt of the gorgeous woman, was flicking steadily over Melba's clitoris as Melba purred another sigh and said, "See what you've been missing, darling? This kind of cunt-kissing is good, too, isn't it?" she said, and Joanie nodded her head, inched up closer, and went on licking.
"Suck on my clitoris just a little, angel," said Melba. "Oh! It's almost too much to bear. You've had me so hot and horny since I met you I haven't been able to leave myself alone. And Harold's been fucking me and sucking me like mad, but still my cunt's just been aching for the touch of your sweet mouth on it. Yes, kiss it all over! Oh-h-h-h, isn't cunt good! Now, suck, baby. Suck and nibble with your lips, and ah-h-h-h," said Melba, and leaned back in the chair and spread her long legs out wide on its arms, and Joanie just hunkered down closer and kept on eating her lovely big cunt.
Joanie's head was twisting about from side to side. She was truly getting involved in some very thorough cunt-kissing, and Melba was getting all she could from that long awaited young mouth while the girl was in the first flush of rapture at the rich taste of cunt. Harold's redhead squirmed anew, hiking her little lace body stocking up over her smooth white hips. Her hands now described lazy patterns on her tummy and inside her thighs, and she said, "You know you're about to make me cum again, angel-face. Your tongue is enough to do it. And when you suck on my clitoris like that, ah-h-h, you take me right up to heaven. Yes, darling. Oooo, suck. Suck and lick. Ah-h-h, yes. You'll be as good as Harold is at this before long. Yes, darling," she said, with her hand on top of Joanie's piled up golden hair, "all the way down to your Melba's other hole now. Yes-s-s, you know how nice that can feel. Now, up, up, up, and make me cum with your lovely hot mouth, before I make you cum in a way you've never felt before."
What was Melba thinking of? Harold wondered, as with her eyes closed and a broad grin on her lips, she held Joanie's head so the girl's mouth was centered on her clitoris and offered her no more suggestions. Joanie didn't need them. After exploring all of Melba's hot cunt, she was intent on devoting all her ardent attentions on that part of it she knew to be the best, the hottest, the most thrilling for this woman who had already thrilled her so very much. Her lips were coming off Melba's clit in her growing excitement, smacking sharply and then returning right to it. And Melba was breathing faster and faster, smiling less and less, and then crying out, "OH! OH! I LOVE IT!", and jerking and twitching and squirming, all at the same time in the big white chair, till she yanked Joanie up by her shoulders and mashed their hot mouths together.
Melba tore her mouth away from Joanie's and said, "Quickly! Quickly, while I'm still cumming. Get down on the floor with me and we'll kiss cunts!"
Harold was a little perplexed. He thought Melba was referring to sixty-nine, and yet it was clear that this had been the first time Joanie had kissed Melba's cunt. But then it all came clear to him as Joanie, looking close to swooning with excitement, fell back on the floor with her legs apart and rucked up the skirt of her nightgown. Melba was at her at once, cunt first, and at her approach, Joanie nimbly turned on her side so that her cunt was there to meet Melba's as their four legs merged like two pairs of scissors.
"OH!"
"UH!"
"YES!"
Now they were both grunting and gasping with unbridled orgasmic fury, cumming together hard, grinding their cunts hard together, with Melba's big bare cunt all but smothering the smaller, golden-fringed pussy of the gasping girl. And now little Joanie did seem to swoon from the excess of pleasure, and lay weak and helpless while Melba cunt-fucked herself to another big cum.
Propped up on one elbow, Melba only rested for a few moments. Joanie lay sprawled on her side, her cunt as well as her mouth now saturated with Melba's rich juices. And then Melba shook her head and moved, got to her knees and bent down over the inert blonde to kiss her lips and toy with her open cunt until Joanie's arm came up to snake around Melba's neck. Melba ended the kiss, gave a heave of her back, and lifted Joanie up in her arms. She heaved again and got to her feet, bearing Joanie off to her bedroom, with the long white negligee trailing back past Melba's bare and flexing buttocks.
Harold got up to see more. The front of his borrowed robe was all wet with jism, but his cock was up as hard as ever as he followed after the two lusty women. He got to the doorway in time to see Melba stripping off her black stretch body stocking, while Joanie in her long white negligee watched with a wistful look from the comfort of Melba's big bed.
"Do you want me all undressed, too?" said Joanie.
"I like you in that tonight," Melba said, and sat down beside the young blonde beauty on her bed. Joanie's hair was coming down from its golden crown of curls and her lipstick was all gone, but still she looked fresh and bright and absolutely lovely there beside the beautiful naked woman with the milk-white skin and the fire-red hair. "Pull your skirts up over your knees, darling," Melba said. "Let me see more of your pretty legs."
Joanie pulled her skirts all the way up. She lifted up her ass and spread out the back of the skirt behind her and let the front of it fall in her lap, and said with a smile, "Is that enough, Melba?"
Joanie was sitting up on the bed. Her knees were up and parted, giving Harold a perfect view of it when Melba's fingers moved between Joanie's plump thighs and slid smoothly within the tight little golden fringed hole in her fat pink cunt. "That's just fine," said Melba. "That's quite enough for me for now."
Joanie squirmed her ass on the bed, grinning broadly, obviously delighting in the feel of two long slim fingers sliding in and out of her little fuckhole. "Are you going to kiss me there some more now?" she asked. "Or do you want to play sticky fingers with me," she said, and reached out her wriggling jeweled fingers for Melba's naked wet cunt.
"I'll kiss your cunt all you want, darling," said Melba. "But I'm in need of a little more now."
"Sixty-nine?" said Joanie. "Could we do sixty-nine? I'd just love to kiss yours some more. I like it so much when I make you cum! And if we could both do it together. . . !"
Melba smiled and shook her head. She took her fingers out of Joanie's cunt and brushed back her long red hair and said, "Yes, we'll be playing a game or two of sixty-nine now and again. I love it. But now I'm in the mood for a little stretching," she said.
Harold flattened himself against the open door, but neither Melba nor Joanie noticed him as Melba gracefully rose from the bed to go to a tall chest of drawers and take a long object out of it. Harold knew right away what it was. He'd seen them in porno shops, and though they'd always intrigued him in the past, the thought of that big thing being shoved up Joanie's cunt now made him feel queasy in the pit of his stomach. It appeared to have much the same effect on Joanie, for as Melba tossed it on the bed beside her, she drew in her knees and said, "What's that?"
Melba laughed and sat down beside her again, picked up the long pink thing and tossed it in the air and caught it like a child playing with a toy. "It's one of my dildoes," she said, holding the eighteen-inch monster in both her long hands. "I have many. Some with vibrators in them. If you're good, I might let you play with them all, in time. But this is my favorite," she said, and tossed it in the air and caught it again. "You see? One end is smaller than the other and either end can be used by a woman who likes her fucking to last a long time."
"You've . . . used it a lot?" said Joanie, her distaste for the long plastic thing still apparent.
"Lots of times," said Melba, and hugged it to her naked tits. "One of my girl friends and I in Las Vegas almost wore it out," she said, and raised its larger end to kiss it, as if in fond remembrance of a good thing past.
"B-both of you used it at the same time?" said Joanie, and eased her skirts down over her knees.
"Yes," said Melba. "It's flexible. You see?" she said, and formed the double-ended dildo into a horseshoe shape, even touched the small and large ends together. "And I feel like some fucking now," Melba said. "You can watch or you can even put it in me, if you like. Or you can sit your pretty pussy on my face while I do it to myself."
"I don't know. . ," Joanie murmured, and Melba smiled and licked the smaller end of the dildo, took it in her mouth to wet it still more liberally, and placed it down between her legs.
She was sitting her knees up and spread quite wide apart. She held the bigger end of the dildo in her hands. Her smile deepened as the bulbous and still respectably large other end of the dildo touched her cunt, but before she could begin to insert it, Joanie said, "Wait! I'll.. . do that part of it for you if you want."
"I'd love it," said Melba, and handed the big thing over to Joanie's rather shrinking hands and leaned comfortably back on her elbows, knees still up and out, cunt still open and waiting for the deep kiss of the plastic phallus.
Joanie was holding it gingerly. She wrinkled her nose in distaste for the thing but nevertheless got up on her knees beside Melba and once again parted the fleshy lips of the older woman's hairless cunt.
"It's got to be very wet and slick," Melba told her. "Wetter and slicker than a real cock. So slide it all around inside my cuntlips, Joanie, so it will slide right in feeling good all the way. That's right. Tha-a-at's right. Mmmm, you're getting me good and hot with it already. It's twice as much fun to have a pretty thing like you at hand to help a girl out with it. Yes, it's nice and wet now. And so am I. Slip it in, darling. Ease it in. Rotate it as you go. Yes-s-s. Ah-h-h-h. Now back off with it and, yes-s-s, go in all the way."
Melba's hips rose to meet the careful insertion of the long pink plastic cock. She rotated them in her hand, and then settled back on the bed saying, "Now fuck me with it, darling. In and out and all around."
The sight of them thus made Harold feel quite inadequate. The end of the dildo inside Melba was at least as big as his cock, and that which was in Joanie's hands dwarfed Harold's hard dick in comparison. Of course Melba didn't have that big end in her cunt, but she was handling the smaller end of it with such ease and enjoyment that he wondered if he'd even begun to satisfy her with his own very mortal cock. She was probably thinking of some sort of dream Superman as Joanie eased it in and out of her, rotating it and stirring it about in her while Melba smiled and took it all in.
Joanie seemed to be over much of her initial disgust for the sex tool. She was getting more and more interested in seeing how she could best use it to please her lover. And she was pleasing Melba who still lay back on her elbows, but was now clutching at the covers of the bed with both hands and churning her lovely hips all about and baring her teeth in a brilliant smile.
The girl with the dildo in hand edged closer. She bent and sucked and tongued on Melba's clit, making the redhead exclaim, "Oh, darling!" She rose and worked the dildo faster in her dear friend's cunt, smiling at everything she saw of the sinuous contortions of Melba's lovely naked body.
Melba's big tits were lolling heavily on her chest. Her stiff nipples were probing up as if in search of a mouth to descend on them, while down below the big plastic cock squelched in and out of her cunt. A light film of perspiration breaking out on her flawless long body lent an added sheen to it, and the bulging twin mounds of her big hairless cunt reached up again and again to suck the ever hard dildo inside.
Her increasing excitement was infecting young Joanie, and Joanie was helping it all she could, bending down to suck Melba's clitoris briefly, reaching up to give her bobbing nipples a tweak, and reaching under her long white nylon skirt to scratch at an itch between her legs that had to be getting more urgent all the time. And now in her growing excitement, the girl said in a quaking voice, "Cum for me, darling Melba. I want to see you do it, I want to make you do it. I don't even want to sit on your face. I want to see you cum! Again and again and again," she said, "just as hard as you ever have!"
Melba, panting and perspiring, reached down and pulled the dildo out of her cunt, turned it around so the much larger end was against her churning cunt and said, "Push it in me, angel. That's all that can make me cum now. You've got me too hot, too ... fucking ... excited to cum for anything but a big hard cock in my fucking cunt. Just shove it in! OH!!!" she cried, and when Joanie stopped her shoving, Melba grabbed the thing and shoved it in another inch.
It seemed impossibly large for her. Harold knew very well how tight and feverishly clasping Melba's cunt could be, and now he doubted it would ever be that way again, stretched as it was to the utmost by that big column of paler pink that had her cuntal mounds pushed brutally aside. Joanie seemed horrified, too, and yet compelled to continue with the insertions and withdrawals of the plastic phallus as Melba, moaning and shuddering, fell back upon her elbows once again. Gone were Joanie's attempts to add to Melba's lusty pleasure with kisses and pinches and tweaks, for it looked as if nothing in this world could add to the pleasure the fair skinned redhead was knowing just then. Joanie was shoving the thing in her hard and fast, her teeth exposed in a grimace, her titties shaking in their bodice with the vigor of her dildo fucking. She was fully determined to either kill or cure her lover with the plastic thing, it appeared, and the choice seemed to hang in the balance as Joanie wielded the slippery long thing with a will and Melba began screaming and humping for more of it.
And then in a flash the picture was changed. Before Harold could so much as move, Joanie had whipped the white negligee up and over her head and was astraddle Melba's heaving loins. Dildo in hand again, she was doing her best to introduce the projecting end of it into her cunt, and she might have failed at this undertaking because of Melba's gyrations, until Melba took it quickly in hand and got its smaller knob against just the right spot.
"OH!!!" Joanie screamed, and sank right down on it, taking her full half of it inside, and immediately the two naked women were fucking away on the thing like mad, tits flopping heavily, heads thrown back, all else in the world forgotten in their burning need to have their tight cunts stretched to the utmost, and to cum and cum and cum.
And cum they did. They were nearly howling with the orgasmic wrenching tearing through them, as Joanie sat high atop of Melba and ground her cunt against hers and jammed it up and down on the big false cock. Now Melba recovered some of her dominance and sanity, rolled them both over and began throwing her hips up between Joanie's widespread legs. She was slamming them in there, those bony hips, and Joanie's plump loins were taking the impacts of them and the big cock they drove.
Harold had never seen such a display of primal orgasmic need. They seemed more like automatons than humans as he moved closer as if he was the slow motion part of a pornographic dream. But he could smell them and they were very real, and he could hear their anguished cries of triumph as another huge orgasm came for them to share, and now at the side of the bed he saw they were human indeed, for each of them was sweating heavily and each was beginning to flag in her frantic endeavors.
Harold pushed Melba aside, tore off his robe, and got up on the bed between Joanie's wet thighs. Cock in hand, he was about to penetrate a very well fucked pussy, when Melba suddenly came to life, crying "Wait!"
"Like hell," he said, and by then she'd snatched up his robe, reached in its pocket, and produced a rolled-up, ribbed rubber that she had on his big stiff cock before Joanie could lift up her weary head.
The girl did lift up her head, however, when Harold shoved his thick cock in her amazingly tight little hole. Joanie lifted up her head in what Harold first thought was sheer horror, and then said, "Oh, it's so wonderfully wonderfully hot!"
Joanie's plump legs were right around his hips right away, as if she'd been fucking all her life. Inside her all the way and moving and confident now that nothing could fully replace a man's cock, he was able to kiss Melba's offered lips as she knelt beside him, and still miss not a stroke of his pistoning cock.
Harold fell on Joanie's body then, mauling those luscious firm tits, mouthing at her spasming throat, rolling her up on top of him as she'd started with Melba, and glorying in each of her loud paeans of orgasmic intensity. He didn't know if he was cumming or not. It felt as if he was doing so in one steady stream from the time he entered her until the time she swooned and collapsed beneath him. And still he was cumming, he felt, as he slid his long wet cock out of the tiny blonde cunt and into the bigger bald one so impatiently waiting between Melba's outspreading fingers.
"Fuck me good and fuck me proper!" Melba urgently said in his ear, with her arms and her legs all wrapped around his body. Harold's cock was doing all the fucking for him, and it was a bare cock now, for the ribbed rubber had come off and was hanging limply out from Joanie's thoroughly fucked cunt. His bare cock was pulling him in and out between Melba's sinuously long legs with no effort at all on Harold's part, and spurting and gushing constantly, or at least it felt as if it was, as he fucked her so soundly her screams went hoarse and her nails clawed into his back. "Never... before like this!!!" she cried out, in great, exulting joy, and then as Harold's scalding hot jism came gushing and frothing out from between his jamming cock and her tight slick cuntwalls, covering her fatty lips with its pearly froth, Melba's screams faded away to gurgles, and she sprawled out in a swoon beneath him.
Harold withdrew himself and fell back on the bed. He lurched off it and staggered beside it like a drunk, and he snarled like a vicious animal as he gazed down at the two inert forms he'd left upon this bed.
"Fucking cunts," he said. "They drive me crazy, then they try to wear me out. Fuck 'em. Who needs 'em? Let 'em take care of each other from now on."
He staggered to the bedroom doorway and braced himself there for a moment, got his breath and staggered on. His cock swung heavily, dripping on the carpet, as he made his way to the couch and the brandy bottle. He took a big pull from it and muttered, "I'll kiss 'em both off in the morning. How can any man ever keep up with those two? They need a billygoat, not a man like me."
Harold took another big pull from the bottle, capped it and set it down. He yawned and stretched and got under the afghan and muttered, "Those two would kill me in less than a month."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The sun streaming through the penthouse windows told Harold it was near noon on Sunday when he woke up. His mouth felt furry and dry and his body felt stiff, but other than that he had no signs of the grinding hangover the brandy had produced the previous morning. He lay on the couch mulling over the evening before for a time, not hearing a sound in the big old penthouse, then rose to look for his clothes.
He found them where he'd left them, and as he climbed into his pecker-tracked shorts, he heard the sound of Melba's voice coming from the rear bedroom.
* * *
"Try not to get so much paint in the window panes," she said. "It takes such a lot of time to g it off once it dries."
"Sorry, Melba," said Joanie's clear young voice. "I'll try to be more careful."
"Best get a rag with some solvent on it and wipe it off right now. There's some in the other room."
Harold couldn't leave the room before Joanie appeared at its doorway, and the instant she saw him a bright smile appeared on her face and she said, "Hi, Harold! Melba! Harold's up and around."
"I'll be right there!" Melba called out, and Harold scowled at Joanie.
She was dressed for work. A shower cap covered her golden curls and she had on a very baggy sweat shirt and a pair of Melba's old denim pants that she'd had to roll up several times just to reach her ankles. She was wearing plastic gloves, just as Melba was when she too came through the doorway and into the room where Harold was. Melba's flame hair was covered with a shower cap, too, and her long body was completely obscured under ancient bib overalls and an old flannel shirt buttoned up to its top. Both Melba and Joanie doffed their shower caps and stripped off their gloves as they brought their bright smiles up close to him. Harold just reached for his wrinkled suit pants.
"Were you planning on going out?" said Melba. "We're going to fix you a yummy breakfast," Joanie said, and took Harold's hand in hers.
"And we wanted to have a little talk with you," said Melba, trying her best to dazzle him with her smile, while her fingers tugged at Harold's and went on to scratch at his palm.
"Talk to each other," Harold told them, and reached for his trousers again.
"I thought I was the one who was grumpy in the mornings," said Joanie.
"He'll snap right out of it when he has a cup of coffee. Come, dear," said Melba. "We have the Sunday paper for you, too. Joanie went out and got it for you early this morning."
"How did she manage to leave you and that fucking dildo of yours?" Harold grouchily asked.
They both just laughed and led him on. Into the kitchen he went, dragged along by his hands, to be seated at the nicely set breakfast table with the morning paper neatly folded beside his place setting.
"I'll have coffee and then I'm leaving," Harold said.
Melba, filling her coffee maker, said, "But we have so much more room here than you had in 4C."
"Melba wants us to move in with her," said Joanie, and placed a glass of orange juice before him. "We want to talk to you about that."
Harold drank the juice and said, "I'm going to South America. I've always wanted to see the Amazon River. But without any Amazons," he quickly added.
"We can all go there on vacation some time, Melba told him, and came to stand beside him where she could run her long fingers through his hair. "But right now there are so many things to do here toward getting this building in shape, we can't possibly afford to simply leave."
"I can't afford to stay," Harold grumbled. "Christ, you two would have me dead in a month. How can I compete for any length of time with that damned dildo? You two don't need me. You've got each other and a whole boxful of dildoes and that's all it takes to keep you happy."
Joanie rubbed the crotch of her borrowed jeans and wrinkled her little nose at him and said, "You competed with it pretty darned good last night. Whew! I still feel it this morning."
"Heat the dildo up in the oven next time you're going to use it," Harold said. "Then it'll be much better than me."
Melba sighed and said, "We're going to need the dildoes now and then if you're going to satisfy us both. And you are, you know, and without any talk about us killing you inside of a month. We decided you shouldn't fuck Joanie any more unless it's a special occasion. She can get by with plenty of cunt-kissing and a smaller dildo now and then."
"And save some of me for my future husband," said Joanie.
"I hope you arrange a nice wedding for her, Melba," said Harold. "Send me an invitation care of General Delivery, Brazil."
"We couldn't do anything like that without you, Harold," said Melba, and when his expression remained fixed and immobile, she sighed and turned to Joanie and said, "Does he often get obstinate like this?"
Joanie shook her blonde head. "Never," she said. "I don't know what we can do to make him see he's needed and wanted and, most of anything, loved very much."
"We'll just have to keep on trying," said Melba, as she peeled down the suspenders of her old bib overalls.
Joanie started stripping, too. Harold, damned if he'd be coerced from his plans by a strip-tease, got up from the table and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. When he turned with the filled cup in hand, they were each stepping out of the last of their work clothes, causing Harold to burn the roof of his mouth.
Both of them had on long long black fish net stockings, held high in place on their satiny thighs by shirred black garters. Joanie's taut garters were held in place by an hourglass shaping waist cincher, a cunning basque made of black lace over purple satin. Its back with its row of eyeletted hooks was made of black latex, dipping low on her spine and rising so high on her rear that absolutely all of her perfect and perfectly round buttocks were displayed. The front of it had only a half bra to it, so that her upstanding young titties with their blushing pink nipples rose high above the purple and black. A ruffle of nylon frill ran across the front of the little corset, just over the plump golden fringed slit of her little naked pussy. Harold swallowed the scalding coffee and took another more cautious sip.
Melba's fish net stockings were held up by the waistband of a pair of very special and very scanty black panties. The seat of the panties was quite transparent in black, blending into sidebands no wider than the width it took to hold the long stockings up, and the front panel was made of satin, with a double row of glittering rhinestones running down the slit in that front. Her lovely big tits were almost as bare as young Joanie's, thrusting out through a peek-a-boo bra of jet black, which was really nothing more than shirred black elastic, set with rhinestones, that certainly served to call attention to her big coral pink nipples and creamy white breasts more than it did to conceal or support them. Harold looked both Melba and Joanie over quite thoroughly, scowling, and mumbled, "I'm still going to South America."
"Not till you hear us out," said Melba, and took him by one of his hands.
"Not till you hear our proposal," said Joanie, and took his coffee cup and his hand, and led him with Melba to the table.
"You can't change my mind," said Harold. "Nothing you can do or say will change my mind."
They were both facing him closely, fish netted knees almost touching his bare knees, and each was holding one of his hands and smiling softly as Melba said, "Harold, don't think for a moment we only want you as building superintendent and a lover for the two of us."
"We could find that anywhere," said Joanie.
"We talked it all over and we know," Melba assured him, though she seemed to be faltering a bit from the calmly assured woman Harold had come to know and to love to distraction. "It's just. .. more than that," she said.
"Oh, tell him!" said Joanie, and prodded Melba's stockinged knee with her finger.
"I can't," said Melba, looking close to tears. "I just don't know how to say a thing like that."
"Well, I do," said Joanie, and she hitched her chair up closer to Harold's and placed both her hands on his knee. "We're asking you to marry her, Daddy. We're asking you to have her as your very own bride!"
"Preposterous!" said Harold, and started to rise from the breakfast table.
Joanie pulled him right, and said, "There's nothing at all preposterous about it. You need a wife and I need a mother. Melba needs a husband and a daughter. She also needs a sort of passionate girl friend and a little sister, and I've always wanted an older sister, and now that I've found out what fun passionate girl friends can be, I want that, too. And we both love you just heaps, even though Melba doesn't know how to say it, and we'd both just die if you went away and left us. Say you'll be our Daddy and our husband and our lover and our brother and everything else a man can be to two girls who love him more than anything else in the whole wide world, and South America, too."
"Impossible. I couldn't possibly do it," said Harold. "Me marrying a rich woman, letting her support me for managing this apartment building during the days and trying to keep up with her and her oversexed girl friend at night? No, no, I couldn't possibly be any part or parcel of a sordid arrangement like that. Perhaps I'm just old-fashioned. I don't know. But it's the man's job to earn the money and the woman's job to take care of the household chores. This would be just the opposite, don't you see? I couldn't possibly do it. It's out of the question. Of course I'm terribly flattered that you even thought of it, Melba, and of course I'll remain completely in love with you, no matter where I go, no matter whom I might meet. But insofar as marrying you goes, I simply couldn't enter into such a relationship, Joanie's relationship with either of us notwithstanding. I must respectfully decline. And I must leave. Now. Before I change my mind. And believe me," he said, "ten more minutes in the very convincing company of you two very elegantly attired ladies and I do believe I would change my mind, marry you, and live with a situation I feel would be entirely unconscionable to my upbringing. I simply couldn't do it," he said, and went right on with his protests as a tear formed in Melba's eye, and she sighed from deep within her very deep bosom and rose from the table, still holding Harold's hand.
The rhinestones glittered and winked at him from her scandalously cut panties, and still he went on with his protests. He held up fingers in counting the ways it could never work out, and Joanie sighed and Melba wiped the tear from her cheek and absently plucked at the rhinestone studded slit in her panties.
Harold could see a little pink within the slit now. He only had to move his head an inch to see it. The slit was right there under his nose as he talked to her. He could smell her flowery perfume, and he could smell the musk of her as well. Again she wiped at a tear and plucked at the slit in her panties, and now when Harold saw the split in her lovely bulge of pink, he slipped to the floor on his knees and burrowed his wriggling tongue within that glittering slit, and deep in the slit beyond.
"We have him, darling," Melba softly said, twining a finger in Harold's hair, as Harold clung to her long slim flanks and tasted the cunt that would be forever fresh and new to him.
Joanie giggled and said, "You knew darned well we would."
"And I have you to thank for it," said Melba, and Harold looked up past the gleaming black satin and rhinestones to see Melba kiss the tip of her finger and place that fingertip on the tip of Joanie's nose.
Joanie grinned, took Melba's hand and kissed that same finger. Joanie guided Melba's finger to her plump left nipple, and drew a little pattern with it there. She looked up at Melba again, beaming a wistful smile, and said, "Is that all the thanks I get?"
"I'll thank you in full a little later," said Melba, caressing Harold's very busy head.
"But I want to be thanked now and here," Joanie told her. "And I want to thank Harold, too, for having such a nice hard cock," she said, and took it in her little hand, for it was standing quite boldly up through the front of his boxer's.
"I thought we could all sort of join hands, in a way, right here on the kitchen floor, and tell each other how much we like each other without having to say another word," she said, and got her pretty pink lips down on the ruddy pink knob of Harold's cock to leave no doubt about what she had in mind.
Joanie rose up again to say, "Okay?"
Melba smiled and nodded, Harold was nodding all the while, and he kept right on nodding as the three of them got on the floor and formed a tight little daisy chain that all of them felt would last for a long, long time.
