Maggie Hart pushed aside the bowl of lilies on the low window seat, let the velvet drapes fall behind her, and seated herself in her own little world. Shutting herself away from the house, with its not-so-subtle discord, gave her at least a few moments of peacefulness. Through the open window, she heard the croak of a bullfrog, the chirping of crickets, and the voices of two people only a few feet away in the dark garden.
She made her living writing fiction, so naturally the incident in the garden fascinated her. And made her itch between the legs. The scene also saddened her. Here were two people she knew, becoming involved in an illicit relationship that certainly would only result in trouble for everyone. She couldn't stop them without creating a scene of her own. As a guest, she probably would end up the scapegoat. Nothing to do but watch and listen.
She wrote murder mysteries, but she harbored a secret desire to write a mad love scene now and then. As a matter-of-fact, she did, but these little sexy tidbits never reached her publisher's desk. She kept them in a portfolio in the hope that she might one day find a private collector who might pay her for them.
She watched a thin stream of blue smoke curl up from the long throat of a tiger lily where Emma dumped her cigarette before going into Bradford's arms for their little moonlight tryst.
"Bradford," Emma mumbled. "Maybe we.. . . "
"Relax, honey," he whispered.
His hand came to rest on her thigh. He felt her quiver and suck in her breath. He edged his hand lower, to the hem of her dress. He lifted the short skirt and touched the bare expanse of her warm flesh. His fingers crawled along the sleek surface.
"Bradford," she whispered, a little more urgently.
Her mind reeled. She loved his touch, wanted him to continue, and wanted him to stop. She knew she had lost control of herself, that he could do whatever he wanted and she would cooperate willingly, fully. She thought of how his cock and tongue would make her feel and gave up the battle.
He slid his hand between her legs. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, sighed, and opened her legs the tiniest little bit. Her pussy instantly heated up and began to seep.
The tips of his fingers came into tantalizing contact with the straying wisps of curling hair covering her plump pussy mound. She quivered harder and her legs opened a little further.
His arm tightened around her shoulders and his fingers began to explore the moist, secret flesh between her thighs.
"You like my fingers stroking your cunt, don't you?" he said, his voice low and husky. "I know you do.. .or you would have stopped me when I put my hand between your legs."
"I.. . " Words failed her. The thought of what he could do for her entranced her, destroyed her ability and desire to object.
"If you didn't like it, your pussy wouldn't be all wet and hot, would it?"
A crimson blush spread over her entire body. She did like it! She couldn't deny it. She wanted him to lick her pussy and fuck her into oblivion!
"It's only natural, honey," he whispered. "You're starved for love. Your husband doesn't take care of you. You're so beautiful, so deprived. You need someone to take care of your needs."
Oh, God, he was so right! Duncan's jack-rabbit fucks had her ready to climb the walls! Fucking other men back home helped, but they weren't the answer to her problem. Bradford, on the other hand, with his knowledge and desire to please her, could be. Not to mention that he would soon inherit a considerable fortune.
She kissed his neck in an intimate gesture of total surrender. He pulled her to the ground and stretched out beside her. His searching fingers inched across her mound and came into electrifying contact with the folds of her trigger-happy pussy. He eased his middle finger gently into the moistness between the thick lips guarding her most private sanctuary, her cathedral of pleasure.
Her legs popped wide open. Her arms tightened around his neck. Her ass squirmed anxiously. She lifted her head and kissed him on the mouth. Her tongue darted between his lips and down his throat. A daze of carnal excitement clouded her mind. The comforting sensations emanating from her torrid twat intoxicated her.
His fingers tenderly probed the quivering, wet folds of her palpitating pussy. Her tongue wiggled in his mouth. He pushed her dress up around her waist, exposing her lower body. Not only to his eyes, but also to their secret observer. She spread her thighs open and his fingers began to play in the velvety softness of her wet cunt. Her tongue plunged down his throat and impulsively imitated a cock fucking a hot pussy. Her ass began to gyrate and hump.
He touched her erect clit lightly. She moaned into his mouth and her ass squirmed and hunched harder. He began to stimulate the erogenous stud and she sighed excitedly.
She closed her eyes and cooed, "Oooooo!" Powerful pangs of pleasure spread rapidly from her cunt. His lewd fingering captivated her, made her writhe and moan with brazen ecstasy.
"Mmmmmm," she muttered joyfully.
She gave herself over completely to her carnal hunger. She began to grind her mound against his hand. His finger flicked expertly, gently tickled the fluted inner lips surrounding the pulsing mouth of her aroused cunt. She mewled with breathless agitation. He suddenly thrust two fingers into her hot, wet love canal.
She gasped as pleasure seared her mind. The soft inner walls of her cunt began to suck voraciously on his fingers. He slid his fingers smoothly in and out of the craving channel. The lewd, slushy sounds assailed her ears.
He reached inside her dress and cupped first one tit, and then the other, provoking more sighs and gasps from her. He pushed the dress open and liberated both bare mounds. Without opening her eyes, she pushed the offending garment off her shoulders.
His warm mouth enclosed one quivering tit. He drew the entire areola into his mouth and sucked slowly. He captured the turgid nipple gently between his teeth and bit it erotically, sending more spasms of pleasure through her aroused body.
He could have done anything to her at that moment, even fucked her up the ass, and she would have cooperated without reservation. But that would have to wait for another time and another place.
"You like what I'm doing to your pussy, don't you?" he whispered softly.
"Yesss!" she hissed passionately.
"Tell me what I'm doing and how much you like it."
"You're finger-fucking me and I love it!" she whimpered softly. "I love to have my pussy played with!"
"It's all for you, darling. You deserve it."
He continued to finger-fuck her and began to suck on her other tit. She was like a madwoman, twisting and bucking wantonly, her thighs lasciviously splayed, her ass thumping on the ground. Quiet, hoarse cries of lust bubbled from her mouth.
She cared only about the glorious spasms of pleasure radiating from her boiling pussy and stimulated tits and shooting through her with lightning speed. His mouth and fingers felt so fucking good. She couldn't remember when she had felt so aroused.
Urged on by the rising tide of passion, she pounded her turgid clit against his hand and tried to coax his driving fingers deeper into her greedily clasping cuntal sheath.
He got on his knees between her splayed legs. He pulled his fingers out of her cunt and, before she could wail in protest, powered his prick into her and shot her snatch full of cum.
She wailed, but in delight, not protest. Her climax had been building steadily. His thoroughly maddening rod hammering into her pushed her over the edge.
"Ooohhh, fuck! I'm cumming!" she gasped.
Her arms began to flail. Her legs began to jerk. Her body began to thrash wildly as wave after wave of scrumptious pleasure washed over her, like breakers on a beach, tossing and tumbling her in their foaming wake. She felt like a piece of driftwood being thrown about capriciously by a force she couldn't comprehend, much less control.
The tremors subsided slowly, leaving her quivering and trembling like an aspen leaf in a strong gale. The world stopped spinning around her head and she slumped gratefully on the ground, totally unconcerned that her tits and pussy were on full, bawdy display.
She wasn't aware that Bradford had left until she came out of the beguiling cloud of orgasmic pleasure. She got up, brushed herself off, and wandered off down the veranda.
CHAPTER TWO
I wish Emma wouldn't amuse herself with her cousin, Maggie thought. I don't worry about Duncan. He's only getting what he deserves. Andrea will be the one hurt if she finds out.
Andrea had lodged her in the guest house, a small green cottage across the terrace at the other side of the house. She had a week of rest and recuperation, away from the hustle and bustle of the world. The Howe estate sat amid misty blue hills and quiet pine woods. Wide verandahs with majestic columns, long windows, boxed paths through the flower gardens and a laid back Southern ambiance graced the manor.
Andrea was a perfect hostess, but now Maggie had to face the reality that her vacation was coming to an end. She hated to leave the tranquility of the remote estate, but a guest ought to have sense enough to know when to leave. Besides, she had a book to finish and the mountains of Colorado were calling her.
Bradford, Andrea's younger brother, returned that afternoon, followed shortly by Duncan Crane and his wife Emma. The house itself had not changed physically, but the arrival of the other guests drastically changed the atmosphere.
A voice beyond the green velvet curtains called impatiently, "Emma! Emma!"
Maggie curled her arms around her knees and sat quietly. Idiot, she thought as Bradford's voice rang through the house. Can't you see what you're doing to your sister? Your infatuation with Emma is going to cause trouble one of these days. Probably sooner than later.
She could see him without looking-his red hair, lithe young body and impatient, thin face. For untold generations, the Howe men had been red-haired, gallant, quick-tempered, reckless, abysmally stupid and selfish. And Bradford had accepted the mold without question.
Dinner had been an unpleasant affair, and Maggie had to endure at least another hour before she could take her leave gracefully and retire to the guest cottage. The dinner conversation floated back into her memory. They had been talking of duck hunting-a safe enough topic, one would think, in the north Georgia hill country.
The talk had veered-through Emma-to a stableman one of the Howes shot and killed. It happened a long time ago, had been all but forgotten, and had nothing to do with the present generation of Howes. Andrea turned white and said hurriedly it had been a dreadful accident. Bradford laughed and said the Howes always shot first and inquired afterwards. He went on to say that he always kept a loaded revolver in the top drawer of the buffet.
"Emma?" Bradford said as he yanked back the drapes. His flushed face fell when he discovered Maggie in the window seat in her pretty lace gown. "Oh," he said. "I thought you were Emma."
The others trailed from the hall into the living room. Maggie thought how the atmosphere suddenly seemed tense and unpleasant!
Bradford turned away and vanished. Tyson Smithfield strolled across the room with Andrea on his arm. He looked at Maggie and smiled affably.
"Maggie Hart," he said. "Watching the moonlight, quietly planning murder." He shook his head and turned to Andrea. "I simply don't believe you, Andrea. If this young woman writes anything, which I doubt, it's gentle little poems about roses and moonlight."
Andrea smiled faintly and joined them.
George, his black face shining, brought in a large, solid silver tray with the coffee service. Duncan Crane appeared in the doorway, dark and bulky and hot-looking in his dinner coat. He lingered a moment to glance along the hall and then came into the room.
"If Maggie writes poetry, it is her secret," Andrea said lightly. "You are quite wrong, Tyson." The large amethyst ring she wore flashed with purple light as she took a fragile old cup and began to pour from the tall silver coffee pot. "She writes murders," she said. "Lovely, grisly ones, with sensible solutions. Sugar, Tyson? I've forgotten."
"One. But isn't that for Miss Maggie?" Tyson said with a bland smile.
He had arrived late to discuss business with Andrea, and had not had time to dress for dinner. He was a gray man, given to dressing in gray.
"Coffee, Duncan?" asked Andrea. She handled the delicate china with a deft touch.
Duncan Crane stirred, turned his heavy dark face toward the hall again, saw no one, and took the coffee from Andrea's lovely hand. Andrea avoided looking directly into his face. Maggie had noticed that Andrea frequently avoided looking at him. She wondered why.
"Sensible solutions," Tyson mused thoughtfully. "Do murders have sensible solutions?"
His question hung in the air. Andrea did not reply, and Duncan did not appear to hear it.
Maggie said, "They must have. After all, people don't murder just to murder."
"Just for the fun of it, you mean?" said Tyson, tasting his coffee. "No, I suppose not. Well, at any rate, it's nice to know your interest in murder is not a practical one."
He probably thinks he's making light and pleasant conversation, Maggie thought. Strange that he doesn't notice that the word murder falls like a heavy stone in this room.
She started to wrench the conversation to another channel when Emma and Bradford entered from the hall. Bradford was laughing and Emma was smiling. He held her hand, swinging it as if to suggest a kind of coarse camaraderie. Duncan watched them with a scowl. Except for Bradford's laugh, a heavy pall of silence hung over the room.
They've probably been in the garden again, Maggie said to herself. Isn't screwing Duncan's wife nearly in his presence bad enough? Does he have to rub the man's nose in it?
Emma's eyelids were starkly white and heavy over shallow, dark eyes. Her straight black hair was parted in the middle and pulled severely backward to a knot on her rather fat white neck. Her mouth was deeply crimson.
She had been christened Emma, for Emma Bovary, by a romantic mother, and tried to live up to the name ever since.
Or down, Maggie thought tersely. She wished she could take Bradford by his large, outstanding ears and shake him.
Emma turned toward a chair and Maggie saw grass stains on the back of her dress. Duncan also saw the stain across his wife's buttocks. He couldn't miss it. Everyone in the room saw it.
"Coffee, Emma?" said Andrea
Maggie set her cup down carefully and said, "Andrea, darling, will you excuse me, please? I have some writing to do."
"Of course." Andrea hesitated. "I'll go along with you to the cottage."
"Don't let us keep you, Andrea," said Emma lazily.
Andrea turned to Tyson and neatly forestalled a motion on his part to accompany her and Maggie.
"I won't be long, Tyson," she said firmly. "When I come back, we'll talk."
A clear little picture etched itself on Maggie's mind. The long, lovely room with the mellow little areas of light under lamps here and there. Emma Crane's yellow satin gown-with a big green splotch across her broad ass. Bradford Howe's red head and slim body. Duncan Crane, a heavy, silent figure, watching them broodingly. Tyson Smithfield, neat and gray and affable. Andrea with her gleaming red head held high on her slender neck, walking lightly and gracefully amid soft mauve chiffons. Halfway across the room, she paused to accept a cigarette from Tyson. She bent to the small flare of a lighter he held for her, and the amethyst on her finger caught the flickering light and shone.
Maggie and Andrea had crossed the flagstone verandah and turned toward the cottage. Their slippered feet made no sound in the velvet grass. The sweet fragrance of the flowers hung heavy in the cool night air.
"I forgot how cool the summer nights are," Maggie said.
"Our little hills don't compare to your Colorado mountains, but our altitude here does make a difference." Andrea paused and looked toward the lily pond in the distance. "Did you hear the bullfrog last night?" she asked. "He seems to have taken a permanent residence in the lily pond. I don't know what to do about him. Bradford says he'll shoot him, but I don't want that. He is a nuisance, of course, bellowing away half the night. But after all, he's only doing what bullfrogs do."
"Andrea," said Maggie, trying not to be abrupt," I must go soon. I have work to do.. . . "
Andrea stopped at the gap in the laurel hedge and turned to face Maggie. "I understand, honey," she said gently. "I didn't expect the Cranes. In fact, I never expected to see Emma again."
A sound checked Maggie's reply, an unexpectedly eerie sound like a wail. It rose and swelled amid the moonlit hills. Maggie gasped.
"The dogs howling at the moon again," Andrea said.
"They are not exactly cheerful. It emphasizes.. . . " Maggie checked herself, on the verge of saying that it emphasized their isolation.
Andrea turned in at the path. It was darker there, and her cigarette made a tiny red glow. "If Emma drops another cigarette into a flower, I'll kill her," she said quietly.
"What?"
"I said I'll kill her," said Andrea. "I won't, of course. But she.. .oh, you've seen how things are, Maggie. You can't have failed to see. She took Duncan, years ago. Now, she's playing her dirty little games with Bradford."
Maggie was thankful that she couldn't see Andrea's face. She mumbled something about infatuation and Bradford's youth.
"He's twenty-one," said Andrea. "No younger than I was when Duncan.. .when Duncan and I were to be married. That was why Emma was here-to be a guest at the wedding and all the parties." They walked on for a few quite steps, then she added, "They ran away together the day before the wedding."
"Can't you send them away?"
"Bradford would follow."
"I don't know what Tyson's relationship is, but maybe he could talk to Bradford."
"Bradford wouldn't listen. Opposition makes him stubborn. Besides, he doesn't like Tyson. He's borrowed too much money from him. And Duncan, for that matter."
It wasn't like Andrea to be bitter. One of the dogs howled again and the others joined the eerie chorus. Maggie shivered.
"You're cold," Andrea said. "Run along inside. Thanks for listening. And.. .I think you'd better go, honey. I meant to keep you for comfort. But.. . . "
"No, I'll stay a while longer. I didn't know.. . . "
"Don't be nervous about being alone. The dogs would know if a stranger set foot on the place. Good night."
Andrea startled-shocked?-Maggie by kissing her lightly on the lips, then was gone.
Maggie put on a long white T-shirt, with cats on the front, her standard sleepwear. She had a half-dozen of the shirts that she wore only in bed.
The snug, warm, tranquil guest cottage unsettled rather than calmed her. Watching
Bradford and the girl fuck in the bushes reminded her how long it had been since she'd fucked. She got in bed and picked up her book. A mystery, of course. She liked to see how other authors handled her area of expertise.
She often wished for more sex in the books she read. She didn't know where to buy those books. In the matter of writing and touting and selling books, she was wise to the ways of the world. In personal matters, she felt she still had so much to learn.
She derived only fleeting satisfaction from the fact that she became drowsy reading a rival author's book. She put down the book and turned off the light.
CHAPTER THREE
Andrea went to her room, undressed, and lay down on the bed. She knew Tyson would come. He followed her around like a little puppy dog. He couldn't resist her pussy, and they both knew it. He wouldn't pass up the opportunity to fuck her for anything in the world. His cock wasn't exceptional, but beggars couldn't be choosy, and she hadn't fucked in weeks.
Tyson slipped into the room a few minutes later. He locked the door, turned to face her and smiled broadly.
"Hello, Tyson." She opened her legs, flaunting her nakedness, deliberately displaying her pussy for him. He was an enthusiastic looker, never got tired of ogling a female body, especially if it was nude.
"Hello, yourself." He looked at the rich red fur trimmed into a narrow slash down the center of her crotch. "I've missed you."
"Not my fault," Andrea replied, slightly annoyed. "You know the way here, and you can certainly afford an airplane ticket." She tweaked one nipple, drawing his attention to her tits.
"You know I have a business to run," he said grumpily. "I didn't inherit a bundle of money that made me independently wealthy." Her tits reminded him of small mountains with the caps glowing pink in the morning sunlight.
"Don't hold my money against me," she said, absorbed by the scrumptious sensations from her tingling clit and sensitive nipples.
"Do you want to argue?" he asked.
She cupped her tits and looked at him. "What do you think?"
"I think my cock is getting hard!" She was one of the hottest women he'd ever known. When she got revved up, her pussy was like a volcano getting ready to blow its top. He undressed hurriedly and lay down by her, his thigh touching hers. "You're more beautiful than I remember," he said, his voice husky with desire. He ran his hands over her tits and cupped one mound. "They feel heavier," he mused. "And just look at those fantastic nipples. I've got to suck them."
Andrea chuckled. Her nipples stood out in full, hard erection. She put her right hand behind his head and pulled it down to her tit. "Suck hard," she hissed.
He touched his lips to her nipple and she quivered. She felt moisture seep into her channel and flow down to wet the lips of her pussy.
His lips covered the nipple. The tip of his tongue passed over it gently, then pressed harder. With one hand, he rolled her onto her side. Her skin had a velvety, warm firmness. He could feel the downy hairs along her spine.
The muscles in her slender back trembled with avid anticipation. Her hot breath puffed against his cheek. His hand caressed her back, slid down to the rise of her buttocks and one finger wedged into the deep cleft. A strangled cry, full of erotic elation, bubbled from her throat.
He moved to her other tit and sucked the nipple hard. She wedged her left hand between them and gathered up his cock. She began to squeeze and stroke his hard lance. He went back and forth, from one nipple to the other, licking and sucking eagerly, alternating from gentle to aggressive.
He lifted his head and put his lips on hers. Her mouth opened wide. She sucked and nibbled avidly at his tongue, her lush, damp lips supple and lively against his. She tightened her arm around his neck and pulled him closer and pulled on his cock like she was pulling taffy.
His tongue slithered against hers, curled around it, caressed it, as he explored the inside of her slippery mouth. His mind reeled under the impact of her feverish response. He couldn't move his hands over her quickly enough. He wanted to feel all of her breathtaking body at once. Her reaction to his caresses stimulated his desire to a frenzy. Her body trembled with eagerness. Whimpers bubbled from her throat as she held him close and yanked on his stiff rod.
He twisted onto his back and pulled her over him. She closed her firm, smooth thighs around one of his. She began to undulate and press her pussy against his hot flesh. The muscles in her stellar ass rippled as she scrubbed her slit up and down on his leg. She fondled and caressed his skin with her furry wet gash, leaving a long streak of wetness in her wake. She began to wiggle faster and press her cunt down harder.
He let her ride his leg until she almost peaked, then pushed her onto her back. He knew from experience that she would go off with a big bang if he primed her passions a couple of times before her sex gun fired.
She opened her legs as his hand skimmed over her taut belly. He traced the outline of her rakish, pruned pubic patch and ran his fuck finger through her slit. Her pussy was hot and humid with lascivious stimulation. She opened her legs wider and humped her pussy against his hand as he fingered and fondled the tender flesh of her prominent pussy lips.
He rolled between her legs and kissed her pussy. He put his hand under her ass and lifted her crotch so he could get his head all the way up between her stately legs. The skin inside her thighs caressed his cheeks like the finest velvet.
The intoxicating flavor of her succulent cunt filled his mouth. He lapped at her pussy with long strokes of his tongue and probed the tip into the savory depths of her weeping hole. A wail of exhilaration burst from her lips. She wiggled closer and arched her hairy grotto toward his mouth.
He stiffened his tongue and stuck the tip into the mouth of her cunt. He began to shoot his lapper forward and back with lickety-split movements, tongue-fucking her avidly. Her plush ass cheeks clenched and trembled in his hands. The flavor, the embrace of her aroused meaty pussy around his tongue made his passions soar to an intolerable intensity. His prick twitched and throbbed.
"I've got to fuck you," he whispered hoarsely.
"All right," she said agreeably. "I want your cock in me, baby," she cooed. "Fuck me good." He got on his knees, spread the lips of her pussy with one hand, and guided his prick with his other hand. She crossed her ankles behind his back and pulled him forward as she wiggled her hips to position her cunt for him. The tip of his cock slipped into the entrance of her cunt. She pulled him further forward and the knob of his prick eased into her sex channel.
She moaned low in the throat. "Come to me, baby! Fill my cunt with your cock!"
He groaned in reply, savoring the tightness of her cunt, the humid heat infusing her slick furrow. He trembled as randy reactions sped through him, and silently thanked her for inviting him to fuck her.
She jiggled her ass and thrust her cunt impatiently. "Oh, damn, Tyson! Put it all the way in! I've got to have it!"
He grasped her full hips and inched his cock deeper into her. She locked her legs tighter and undulated her whole body, and his cock went in all the way.
Thoroughly aroused, utterly receptive, her tight, slick cunt gobbled up his prick with delight. "Oohh, fuck, baby, that feels wonderful! Fuck me, baby, fuck me good! Make me cum all over your beautiful cock!"
He began to move, to thrust smoothly in and out, spearing his lance as deep as it would go with each forward hunch of his hips.
She put her arms around his neck and held on tight. They bounced on the bed, clinging to each other eagerly, locked in a lascivious embrace.
She fucked back at him and moaned, "Your cock feels so good, baby." Her resilient tits bobbed and bounced from the force of his thrusts as he speared his prick in and out of her.
"Beautiful tits," he muttered. "And just look at those big nipples."
"What about my cunt?" she gasped.
"Fantastic, baby, fantastic! Fucking you is better than anything in the world."
She basked in his praise, almost purring with pleasure. "I'm going to cum," she moaned, her face twisting with gluttonous passion.
"You'd better!" he panted.
She clamped her mouth shut to cut off her scream of ecstasy. Intense sensations gripped her, then tore through her body like lightning. She began to undulate her hips hard, throwing her pussy at him. He pounded his prick into her as hard as he could as she writhed and jerked under him.
His own orgasm became an uncompromising force that lifted him and carried him along, enveloping him in a whirlpool of licentious rapture. He dug his fingers into her hips and lanced his cock into her with tumultuous furor. His entire body shook as his hips jerked rapidly back and forth. Wildly careening sensations possessed him.
Cum began to boil out of his cock in gushes of thick globs. He punched into her mightily, drove his cock, and his jism, deep into her seething snatch. She threw her hips from side to side and wrung the last drop of cum from his cock with her sucking, pulsating cunt.
Tyson sat back on his haunches and gazed at her well-fucked cunt. He leaned over and kissed it, then ran the tip of his tongue lightly across her agitated clit.
"Oh, God, baby," she groaned. "Don't get me started again yet. Give me a few minutes to rest."
He teased her by kissing her sopping cunt again. She giggled and closed her legs. "You always did like that, didn't you?"
"Yeah," he said. "As much as I like for you to suck my cock."
"Come lie down with me and let me rest, then we'll do a sixty-nine."
He crawled up and lay down beside her. "Will you get on top so your tits hang down against my belly?"
"Any way you want it, baby," she assured him. "How are the girls back home? Do they fuck and suck cock as well as I do?"
"Do I detect a hint of jealousy?"
"No. We're just good friends, Tyson. You know that. I just want to know that someone is taking good care of you."
"They're okay. How about you?"
Andrea giggled. "Do you mean how are the girls?"
"Have you turned bi on me?"
"The pickings around here are pretty slim," she replied, ignoring his question about being bi. "Not that I have much time to shop around. Want to do a 69 now?"
"Oh, yeah!" he replied with enthusiasm.
CHAPTER FOUR
Emma and Duncan stood naked at the window of their dark bedroom and stared out into the quiet summer night. Duncan reached around his wife, cupped one of her naked tits and squeezed affectionately.
He slid behind her without releasing her tit, put his arm around her and his other hand touched her lower belly. His fingers danced lightly through the short, crisp curls of black hair in her crotch and settled on the lips of her pussy.
"Stop," she muttered listlessly.
"Why?" he whispered, pressing his fingers into her fleshy quim, hoping to get at least the tips into her hole.
Emma sighed, sounding tired. "Because it will be just another average fuck, Duncan. Just like all of our fucks for the past several years have been average. Just like most everything we do is average. Has been for a long, long time."
Instead of stopping, he squeezed her tit harder and mashed her clit under his thumb. Then he wriggled two fingers into her tight pussy. She knew he would not stop any time soon. She also knew that she would soon be ready to take his cock. A very sensuous woman who adored sex, she routinely became aroused so easily. Routine! What a horrible word. It described her life with Duncan to a tee.
"Come on, honey," Duncan said, almost whining. "We're a long way from being average. He pinched her nipple and twisted two fingers inside her cunt. "We've got a fine daughter who's doing well in college. I give you everything you need, or want. Why can't you give me a little pussy when I want it?"
Emma's pussy wasn't hot yet, but it was getting there. Her clit and her nipples were beginning to swell. To her, however, the reaction was automatic. When someone touched her body in certain places in certain ways, it responded. It didn't matter to her that Duncan was the man getting her ready to fuck again right now. It could have been any man.
She wished that another man was getting her ready to fuck. Bradford, perhaps, even though she had already fucked him once that night. Anything to break up the damn monotony.
Emma pushed Duncan away and said, "I'm going to sit on the verandah and have a cigarette."
When she reached the door, still naked, Duncan said, "Hey, you'd better put on some clothes."
Emma looked back over her shoulder. "Why? It's after midnight. Who's wandering around this time of night? Besides, I won't turn on the light. I want to sit in the dark and listen to the bugs hum."
"You sound buggy," Duncan muttered, angry that she left before he could stick his cock in her. She would never fuck him sitting on the front porch. Damn!
He snatched his robe out of the closet and put it around his shoulders as he followed her to through the French doors. Emma scooped up her cigarettes on the way and had one going by the time Duncan joined her.
"It's so peaceful out here this time of night," Emma whispered, as if afraid she would spoil the effect by talking loud. "What are we going to do, Duncan?"
The question caught him by surprise. "About what?" he muttered. He reached over and rubbed one of her nipples. Soft-a sure sign she wasn't thinking about fucking.
"Keep your voice down," she admonished. "It spoils the mood. What are we going to do about our lives being in a rut? So humdrum I want to scream."
"Let's go back inside and I'll make you scream," he said flippantly, trying to get her mind back on sex.
"Be serious, damn it," she hissed. She brushed his hand away from her tit, swatting at it like a flying pest making a nuisance of itself. "Stop it! You don't get any more pussy until we talk."
"We are talking, damn it!" he growled. "What do you want anyway?"
"Shhhh," she hissed. "Someone is out there."
"I told you to put on a robe," Duncan growled. "We're going to have a midnight visitor and here you sit, naked as a jay bird."
A form materialized on the sidewalk and took shape. Emma leaned forward, straining to make an identification. "Oh, it's just Bradford," she whispered.
"What's he doing out here?" Duncan muttered. "Hasn't he caused enough trouble tonight?"
She startled him by reaching into his robe and grasping his cock.
"What the hell, Emma?"
Emma squeezed his cock and lifted her cigarette to her lips. She took a deep drag and the ember partially outlined her face.
"Oh, it's just Bradford," she said out loud. "I thought it was a mean old burglar come to ravish me and steal the family jewels."
Duncan had no idea what his wife was up to. Her hand actively stroking and squeezing his cock befuddled him. She already had his prick almost fully erect.
Emma tossed her cigarette at one of the tiger lilies. She released Duncan's cock, pushed his robe aside, and climbed over his lap, with her back to him.
"Emma?" Duncan gasped. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I don't think, lover boy, I know. I'm going to sit on your cock."
"My God, Emma, he can see you!"
"Of course he can. And don't talk so damn loud."
She reached between her legs and grasped his stiff rod. She held it in place and sat down, taking the shaft to the hilt in her slick love sheath.
"Emma?" Bradford said, walking part way across the lawn. "Is that you?"
"Yes, Bradford," Emma answered gaily. "Duncan and I were just enjoying the balmy night."
Duncan thought Emma was the balmy one, but he held his tongue. She might sit on his cock with Bradford watching, but surely she wouldn't really fuck him.
Her frustration with the monotony of her life led her to flaunt her sexuality more and more.
She stopped wearing underwear. She wore plunging necklines, exposing her titties all the way to the nipple. She loved to give men sudden, shocking views of her tits when she bent over. Or sitting in a short tight skirt and letting her thighs yawn open to offer a splendid view of her beaver.
She tried to lead her staid husband into audacious conversations by bringing up the subject of swapping. She came out flatly in favor of adding spice to their lives. Unfortunately, he made it plain that he wasn't in favor of another man pronging his wife.
He wanted to stop his wife now, before she went too far. But her tight cunt squeezing his cock rendered him helpless to do anything but go along with her provocative performance.
"It sure is a lovely night," Bradford said. He had to bite his lips to keep from laughing out loud. If Emma was trying to goad him by fucking her husband right in front of him, it wasn't working. He thought it was a hoot. He had no serious designs on her. To him, she was merely another easy piece of ass. He had no desire to get hooked up with a woman who would spread for anyone who looked at her cross-eyed. "For whatever you want to do," he added dryly.
"Were you surprised to see us?" Emma asked. She squirmed on Duncan's cock. "We just got the urge to come see you and dear cousin Andrea." She wriggled again, harder, and suppressed a soft lewd giggle. "Oh, come on over here so I can talk to you without waking everyone in the house."
Bradford had seen the light in Andrea's window, and knew she wasn't asleep. He wondered if Tyson Smithfield was screwing his sister. He didn't care. His part of the inheritance was secure. No matter how hard Tyson tried, he couldn't get to it.
Duncan couldn't help himself. He put one hand between his wife's legs and found her erect clit with his middle finger. He couldn't miss the big, hard, slick bud if he tried. He cupped one of her tits with his other hand and began to knead it while he slowly frigged her clit.
Emma felt more brazen than she had ever felt. She smiled at Bradford and added a gentle, short stroke up and down motion to her squirming.
Bradford's eyes went from Emma's tits down to her crotch. Her legs were too close together. He could see only the dark triangle of curls that spread up the bottom of her stomach. But he could imagine Duncan's cock stuck up her cunt. He fished his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one.
He let the lighter burn longer than necessary, just to see what Emma would do as the flame highlighted her naked body. He figured she had some ulterior motive for fucking on the verandah. He just didn't know what. Not that it mattered a hell of a lot. If she wanted him to watch, he would. But he wouldn't fall under her spell. She had turned Duncan into a brooding, sour man. She would never have the chance to do the same thing to him.
Emma knew precisely why she got such a thrill out of fucking her husband in front of her cousin. She didn't want to goad Bradford. She wanted to goad her husband and herself. The more she squirmed and humped, the better Duncan's cock felt-better than it had felt in years. She grew more daring, began to move up and down more boldly. She slid her sizzling snatch slowly up her husband's dick until only the head was still inside her. Then, she slowly impaled herself completely on him again, sighing with contentment.
"Emma!" Duncan hissed. "He can see everything! "
"Then why are you running your mouth and drawing attention to it?" she whispered harshly.
Bradford stood casually, smoking his cigarette. He stared at Emma so that she felt it. She wondered if his cock was hard. It had to be. Who could watch her and not get a hard-on, especially a young man in the prime of his sexual life?
Bradford saw Duncan's cock come into view as Emma raised up and opened her legs. He smiled wryly and flicked his cigarette into the garden. "Good night," he said cheerfully. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He turned and walked away without a backward glance.
"Damn!" Emma hissed.
"I don't know what you're up to, but you'd better not stop now," Duncan muttered.
"Ooohhh, no, honey!" Emma groaned. "Your cock feels too good! Oh, God, honey, I love to fuck! I'd love to fuck twenty-fours a day and get a hundred pricks in me!"
She began to swing her ass more vigorously, widening the circle as she levered herself up and down faster and faster. When she went all the way down on his rigid rod, she twisted her torso, making her tits swing crazily.
She stared into the dark and licked her lips, wishing Bradford would come back and watch her cum. But Bradford did not come back. She was all alone with her husband and his cock would have to do. She put her hands on Duncan's knees and began to fuck faster. More pleasure flooded her body. She tightened her cunt muscles and rode her husband's cock harder. She wished she knew how Duncan felt at that moment. Was he thinking about swapping? About watching her fuck another man? Did the idea finally excite him, at long last? Did she dare bring up the subject now?
Duncan grunted and levered his hips to drive his cock deeper into his wife. Maybe her idea of swapping wasn't so bad after all. He wasn't about to tell his wife yet, however, and surrender more control of his life to her. Whatever happened had to be on his terms, not hers.
Emma relaxed her cunt and excitedly worked it up and down his cock faster for a moment. She wanted so badly to tell him how good it felt when another man fucked her. How much she liked it when Bradford fucked her earlier, out in the garden. She took about half of his cock into her and stopped. She clamped her pussy around his prick, leaned back against his chest, and rotated her hips in tight circles. He grabbed both of her tits and squeezed them hard.
She swung forward until her body was upright over his loins again. She planted her feet on the floor and twisted her lush ass. She started pumping up and down again, screwing her snug pussy on his lovely lance. She grabbed her tits and squeezed them lustily as she slid her searing cunt faster along his rampant rod.
"Aaahhh, yessssss, baby," she moaned, "I love to fuck! Fuck with me, darling! Make me cum! Give me a good cum!"
"Yeah, baby, yeah! Go! Get off on my hard cock and take my cum."
He began to work his hips up and down, pistoning his cock in out of his wife's pussy. He drove his prick deep into her each time she dropped her wriggling ass heavily and impaled herself completely.
"Ooohhh, yessssss, lover, fuck me!" she grunted. "Give me all of your cock! I love it, Duncan! I love to fuck!"
Emma's orgasm began, spreading through her rapidly, shattering her nerves with rapture. She stared into the darkness, thinking about Bradford, about how his cock felt. She continued to fondle her tits as she fucked her husband faster and faster.
"Yes, yes, yes!" she cried. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Give me your cum, lover, and make me cum harder!" '
Another orgasm whipped through her. She imagined Bradford still standing near the porch, his eyes burning into her crotch, the junction between her cunt and Duncan's cock. She continued to skewer herself on her husband's cock, sending his cockhead to the depths of her cunt.
"I'm going to cum, baby," Duncan rasped.
"Ooohhh, fantastic, lover!" Emma moaned. "Shoot it in me! I'm cumming again!"
Her pussy quaked again, just as she felt Duncan's hard prick swell and start heaving. He rammed into her harder and his scorching jism gushed into her. She stifled her squeal of ecstasy and continued to impale herself on his cock. She closed her eyes and leaned back against his chest. She flexed her strong cunt muscles, milking his prick for every drop of his male elixir.
Duncan's cock stopped shooting and her cunt stopped twitching. She sighed, gave her tits one more squeeze and twisted her head around for a kiss.
He obliged by thrusting his tongue down her throat. She sucked on it and moaned deep in her chest. He pushed her back and stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time in years.
"We'd better get back inside," he said. "I don't like putting on a peep show."
"Bullshit," she muttered, and went inside to wash away the residue of their fucking.
CHAPTER FIVE
The morning dawned misty and chilly.
Maggie dressed in a knit suit, pulled her hair back and put on her glasses. She doubted that Tyson would pay her any florid compliments today.
The laurel leaves sparkled with moisture and the hills loomed gray and shapeless in the distance. She made her way carefully along the path to keep from soaking her shoes in the wet grass. The house lay white and still beyond the hedge. About halfway there, she heard a heavy concussion of sound, deadened by the misty air.
She thought that Bradford had shot the bullfrog. She glanced toward the pond, and saw no one there. Then she realized that the sound came from the house. She hurried forward, not caring that the grass soaked her shoes. She rushed in the door and saw George at the far end of the hall. He waved his arms as he ran away from her, shouting something unintelligible. Instinct drew her to the door of the library.
She stopped in the doorway, thunderstruck.
Duncan Crane sat slumped in the green damask chair she had occupied the night before. A newspaper lay at his feet. The velvet drapes were pulled together across the window behind him. A large red stain covered his chest. His wide-open, glassy eyes stared at her lifelessly.
Maggie sank to the footstool near the door. like many writers of mysteries, she had never seen a dead person. Bradford rushed in, his face drawn, barefoot, wearing only pajamas. George followed closely on his heels, looking as white as Bradford's pajamas. Bradford snatched up the revolver lying behind the chair and stared at it blankly.
Then Tyson Smithfield appeared in the doorway. He stopped, uttered an incredulous exclamation, and ran across the room. Andrea came next. She took in the room in one sweeping glance and a look of horror crossed her face.
"Duncan?" Andrea whispered hesitantly.
Emma rushed in and brushed past Andrea.
"Don't look, Emma!" Andrea cried.
But Emma looked, steadily and long. Then her flat dark eyes went all around the room and she said, "Who shot him?"
George cleared his throat and spoke to
Bradford. "I don't know who shot him, Mister Bradford. But I saw him killed. And I saw the hand that killed him."
"Hand!" screamed Emma. "What hand? What do you mean?"
"Hush, Emma," Tyson rasped. "What do you mean, George?"
"Nothing to tell but that, Mister Tyson. I was just coming to open the drapes and dust the library. I saw a hand sticking out the drapes, holding the revolver." George wiped his brow. "I ran to get Mister Bradford."
"Could you tell whose hand it was, George?" Tyson asked gently.
"Mister Tyson, God's truth is, I don't know. I don't know."
Bradford thrust himself forward. "Was it a man's hand?"
"I reckon it was, maybe," the old man said slowly, looking at the floor. "But I don't know for sure, Mister Bradford. All I saw was.. .was the red ring on it."
"A red ring?" cried Emma. "What do you mean.. . ? "
George turned a bleak dark face toward Emma, a face that rejected her and all she had done to his house. "A red ring, Mrs. Crane," he said with a kind of dignity. "It sort of flashed. It was red."
After a moment, Bradford uttered a curious laugh. "I don't know anyone in the house who wears a ruby ring." He looked at Tyson. "Shouldn't we put him on the couch, or something? It doesn't seem decent to leave him sitting there like that."
"No!" Maggie said quickly. "You must leave him where he is and call the sheriff."
"Right," Tyson said. "I'd forgotten.. .if I ever knew. But that's the way of it. We'll have to send for people.. .doctor, sheriff, coroner, I suppose."
"Just the sheriff," Maggie said. "He'll take care of everything."
Everyone started talking at once. Tyson took quiet command and restored order to the hubbub. He made the necessary phone call, sent Bradford to dress, and told George to bring coffee. Maggie sat numbly beside Andrea on the love seat in the hall. Emma prowled restlessly up and down the hall. Her brightly colored sports suit and scarlet bracelets and earrings looked garish and out of place in that house of violent death.
Andrea sat like a zombie, not speaking, drinking coffee automatically. The amethyst on her finger winked and glowed whenever she lifted the coffee cup to her mouth.
Maggie gradually recovered from the numbing shock. Just in time for the arrival of the sheriff. Question followed question-from the sheriff, the coroner, and the family doctor-until they seemed to blend into a confusing jumble.
The revolver belonged to Bradford, which he readily admitted. "Everyone knew it was there," he said. "And I picked it up, so it'll have my fingerprints on it. None of which proves a damn thing. I didn't shoot him."
"We'll do a paraffin test, just to be sure," the sheriff replied.
George told his story three times. No one else knew anything. Only Mary the maid and Estelle the cook, who were together in the kitchen preparing breakfast, had an alibi.
Andrea had been writing letters in her own room. She heard the shot, but thought it was only Bradford shooting a bullfrog in the pond. But then she heard Bradford and George running down the front stairway, so she came down too.
George had gone up the back stairs from the kitchen and awakened Bradford. Bradford had gone to bed late, slept soundly, and had not heard the shot.
Tyson Smithfield had walked down to the county road in front of the house to check the mail. He heard a muffled sound as he was returning. He didn't recognize it as a gunshot, and didn't know what had happened until he reached the library. He created a mild sensation at that point by taking off a ring and holding it so everyone could see it.
"Is this the ring you saw on the murderer's hand?" he asked George.
The sensation quickly died, for the large clear stone was as green as his neat green tie.
"No, sir, Mister Tyson," George replied. "The ring I saw was red. I could see it plain, and it was red."
"This is a flawed emerald," Tyson said. "I asked because I seem to be about the only person here wearing a ring. But I suppose that, to further the sheriff's task of finding out who did what to whom, everyone's property should be searched."
The sheriff looked at the purple ring on Andrea's hand. "That's being done," he assured them. "How about you, Mrs. Crane? What can you know of this matter?"
"Nothing," Emma replied spiritedly. "I was walking in the woods." She glanced obliquely at Bradford, whose face flushed suddenly. "I heard the sound, but didn't realize it was a gunshot," she continued. "I came back to the house anyway, to see what was going on."
"The window behind the body opens toward the woods," the sheriff said. "Did you see anyone, Mrs. Crane?"
"No one at all," Emma said firmly.
"Well, then, did you hear the dogs barking?"
"No," Emma said.
"So, it isn't-likely that a stranger was on the grounds," the sheriff mused.
The questioning continued. Continued wearily on and on and on, and still no one knew who shot Duncan Crane. They did know that he had been shot from behind. The bullet went through the back of the chair, through him, and into the floor a few feet in front of him.
One of the detectives reported they had completed their search of the house. Everyone there, belonged there. There were no footprints outside, but someone left the French doors ajar. They didn't find a red ring such as George described.
"All right," said the sheriff. "That'll be all now, folks. But I'd take it kindly if you was to stay around here today."
CHAPTER SIX
Maggie knew she would remember that still, long day with a kind of sharp reality for the rest of her life. After those first moments when she had felt so ill and shocked, everything seemed weirdly natural. After one event occurred, another was bound to follow, and then another, all of them quite in the logical order of things. Even her meeting with Patrick Riley, so trivial at the time, but later so significant, seemed as natural, as unsurprising, as anything could be.
Maggie spent a long, painful afternoon with Andrea. She knew that, under her frozen surface, Andrea was grateful for her presence. They carefully avoided the sub rosa subject that neither wanted to verbalize. Relieved when Andrea finally took a sedative and went to bed, Maggie tiptoed out of her room and hurried down the stairs. She saw no one, although she heard voices behind the closed door of the library.
She took deep breaths of the mist-laden air as she hurried along the path to the guest cottage.
So, this was murder. It happened to people one knew, and it did indescribable and horrible things to them. Frightened them first, perhaps. Fear of murder itself came first-simple, primitive fear of the unleashing of the beast. And then, on its heels, came more civilized fear, fear of the law, and a scramble for safety.
She turned through the opening in the hedge and glanced backward. The house lay white and stately amid its gardens as it had lain for generations. But it was no longer tranquil-it was charged now with violence. With murder. Yet it remained dignified and stately and would cling, as Andrea would cling and had clung all those years, to its protective ritual.
Andrea. Did she kill Duncan? Was that why she was so stricken and gray? Or was it because she knew that Bradford had killed him? Or was it something else?
Maggie did not see the man till she was almost upon him. She gasped involuntarily, though as a rule she wasn't skittish. He sat on the small porch of the cottage, hunched up with his coat collar turned up, furiously scribbling on a pad of paper. He jumped up when he heard her breathless little cry and whirled to face her.
"My name's Riley, Patrick Riley," he said.
"Pat to my friends. May I use your typewriter?"
His eyes were extremely clear and blue and lively. His face was agreeably irregular in feature. His mouth looked as if he laughed a lot. His chin said he endured insolence from no man. His bushy fair hair showed no sign of graying. His hands were unexpectedly fine and beautiful.
Hard on the surface, Maggie thought. Actually, he's probably quite sensitive. Typical Irish. What's he doing here?
Aloud, she said, "Why?"
"Can't write fast enough to get this story off tonight. I've been waiting for you. They told me you're a writer. I'm a reporter, with a Dallas paper. I'm here on vacation. I didn't expect a murder story to break."
Maggie opened the door and admitted him to the small living room. "The typewriter's there. There's a stack of paper beside it."
He fell upon the typewriter like a dog on a bone, and immediately became altogether preoccupied with his story. She watched him for a while, amazed at his speed and fluency and utter lack of hesitancy.
She left him to his endeavors and lighted the fire already laid in the tiny fireplace. She sat quietly, letting the crackling of the fire soothe her. For the first time, the experiences she had noted and stored away in the nooks and crannies of her brain began to arrange themselves and march in some sort of order through her conscious thoughts. The dark, morbid parade frightened her. She was relieved when Pat Riley spoke.
"I've got your name. Mary Hart," he said suddenly, over the sound of the clicking keys. "Is that right?"
"Margaret," she said. "Maggie."
The clicking stopped. He looked at her, frowning. "Maggie. Maggie Hart," he repeated thoughtfully. "You aren't the Maggie Hart who writes murder stories!"
"Yes," Maggie said cautiously. "I am that Maggie Hart."
An expression of unequivocal incredulity crossed his face. "But you.. . . "
"If you say that I don't look as if I write murder stories, you can't use my typewriter," Maggie said tersely.
"I suppose you're all tangled up in this mess," he said speculatively.
"Yes," said Maggie, sober again. "And no," she added, looking at the fire.
"Don't commit yourself," Pat said dryly. "Don't say anything reckless."
"But I mean just that," said Maggie. "I'm a guest here. A friend of Andrea Howe's. Her sorority sister, actually. She was a senior, president of the sorority I pledged as a freshman. I didn't murder Duncan Crane. And I don't care about the rest of the people here, except that I wish I'd never met them."
"But you do care a lot about Andrea Howe?" he said gently.
"Yes," Maggie replied gravely. "I care very much about Andrea Howe."
"I've got all the dope, you know," he said softly. "It wasn't hard to get. Everybody around here knows about the Howes. The thing I can't understand is, why she shot Duncan. It ought to have been Emma."
"What.. . ? " Maggie's fingers dug into the wicker arms of the chair. Her eyes strove intently to plumb the clear blue eyes above the typewriter.
"I said it ought to have been Emma. She's the girl who's making the trouble."
"But it wasn't.. .Andrea couldn't.. . . "
"Oh, yes, she could," Pat said wearily. "People can do the strangest things. Andrea could murder. But I don't see why she would murder Duncan and let Emma go scot-free."
"Emma has a motive," Maggie said in a low voice.
"Yes, she's got a motive. Get rid of a husband who was a millstone around her neck. Bradford Howe has the same motive, in a way. With Duncan dead, he's got a clear shot at
Emma. And, he's what the people around here call a Red Howe-impulsive, reckless, bred to a tradition of.. .violence."
"But Bradford was asleep upstairs."
He interrupted her. "Oh, yes, so he says. And you were approaching the house from the terrace. Tyson Smithfield had gone down after the mail. Miss Andrea was writing letters upstairs. And Emma was walking in the woods. Not a damn alibi among you. The way the house and grounds are laid out, neither you nor Tyson nor Emma were visible to each other. Anyone could have escaped readily from the window and turned up a moment later from the hall, all innocent and aboveboard. I know all that. Who was behind the curtain?"
"A stranger?" she said in a small voice.
"Stranger, nothing," he said with scorn. "The dogs would have had hysterics. It was one of you. But who?"
"I don't know. I don't know!" she blurted, her voice uneven. She stood abruptly and began to pace, and tried to steady herself.
"Don't look like that," he said, alarmed by her distraught expression. "Don't cry. Don't.. . . "
He took her in his arms and she thought for a moment he was going to kiss her.
"I am not crying," she said. "It wasn't Andrea. I know it wasn't!"
"You mean that you don't want it to be Andrea," he said kindly. "Well.. . . " He looked at his watch. "Shit!" He turned back to the typewriter and shuffled his papers together. "Tell you what, I can do something. Not for you exactly.. .just for.. .oh, because. I'll let part of my story wait until tomorrow, if you want the chance to try to prove your Andrea didn't murder him."
Maggie frowned, perplexed.
"It's simple," he said quickly. "You write murder mysteries. I've read one or two of them. They aren't bad. Well, here's your chance to try a real murder mystery."
"But I don't want.. . . "
He checked her with a wave of the hand. "Yes, you do," he said. "In fact, you've got to. You see, your Andrea is in a spot. You know that ring she wears.. . . "
"When did you see it?"
"Does it matter?" he said impatiently. "Reporters see everything. The point is the ring."
"But it's an amethyst," Maggie said defensively.
"Yes," he agreed grimly. "It's an amethyst. And George saw a red stone. On the right hand, the hand holding the revolver. And Andrea wears her ring on her right hand."
"But, her ring is an amethyst," Maggie repeated.
"A little while ago, I asked George the name of a flowering vine in the garden. He said, and I quote, 'That red flower, sir? That's wisteria.'"
He paused. Maggie felt a cold hand clutch her heart and squeeze it.
"The particular flower I asked about is purple," he said slowly. "The color of a dark amethyst."
"But he would have recognized Andrea's ring," Maggie objected.
"Maybe," he said. "And maybe he wishes he'd never said a word about the red ring in the first place. He was scared when he first mentioned it, probably. Hadn't had a chance to think it over."
"But George.. .George would confess to murder rather than.. . "
"No," Pat Riley said gravely. "He wouldn't. That theory sounds all right. But it doesn't happen that way. People don't murder, or confess to having murdered, for somebody else. When it's a deliberate, planned murder, and not a crazy drunken brawl when anything can happen, there's a motive. A strong, profound, deeply personal and selfish motive. And don't you forget it. I've got to hurry. Shall I send my story about the wisteria?"
"Don't," Maggie said, choking back a sob. "Not yet."
"Thanks for the typewriter. Get your wits together and go to work. After all, you ought to know something of murder. I'll see you at breakfast. Tyson Smithfield is putting me up in one of the guest rooms on the third floor."
CHAPTER SEVEN
The door closed. The flames crackled.
After a long time, Maggie sat down at the writing table. She drew a long yellow pad to her and wrote across the top in four columns: CHARACTERS. MOTIVES. CLUES. QUESTIONS.
Strange, she thought, how real life differs from its written imitation. And yet, how like. How dreadfully like!
An authoritative knock at the door sent her pencil jabbing furiously on the paper and her heart into her throat.
She opened the door, expecting to see the reporter.
Emma Crane pushed her way into the room and said irritably, "My knees are driving me crazy! Andrea's asleep or something, and the help in the kitchen are scared of their own shadows." She paused to dig savagely at first one knee, and then the other. "Have you got something I can put on them? I'm nearly going crazy. It's not mosquito bites. I don't know what it is." She sat down and pulled back her white skirt, disclosing scarlet blotchy patches on her knees. "Look!"
Maggie looked and had to resist a wild desire to giggle. "Chiggers," she said. "Nothing serious. I'll get some alcohol."
"What the hell are chiggers," Emma said blankly.
"Little tiny red bugs," Maggie said as she went into the bathroom. "They're thick in the woods this time of the year. You'll be all right by morning."
She went to the bathroom, found the alcohol, and took the bottle back into the living room. At the door, she stopped abruptly and looked at Emma standing at the writing table.
Emma looked up, saw Maggie, and her flat dark eyes flickered. "Oh," she said. "Writing a story?"
"No," said Maggie. "It's not a story. Here's the alcohol."
Under Maggie's glowering look, Emma had the grace to depart rather hastily, clutching the bottle of alcohol. Her red bracelets clanked. Her scarlet fingernails looked as if they'd been dipped in blood. Of the people who might have killed Duncan Crane, Maggie reflected coolly, she would prefer it to be Emma.
She returned to the writing table and a curious, transient memory began to tease her. Not so much a memory as a memory of a memory-something she once knew and now could not remember. The vague impression floated just out of reach, tantalizing, maddeningly elusive.
She pushed it away and began to make notes. Andrea and the amethyst. Andrea and the wisteria. Andrea.
Finally, she gave it up, put on her pussy shirt, and went to bed. A few minutes after she began to drift off, the dream started.
The dream seemed so real. Patrick Riley stood by her bed, naked, holding his thick cock in his right hand. She smiled at him, totally relaxed and ready.
"Cute shirt, " he said quietly.
"I call it my pussy shirt," she replied.
"Lift your shirt and play with your tits. Make your nipples hard."
"Why do you want me to do that?"
"Don't ask questions. Just do it."
She threw the light blanket back and pulled up her shirt, baring her tits. His eyes grew round and his tool began to grow larger and thicker as he stared at her voluptuous body.
"Your tits are pretty big for such a small woman. What size bra do you wear?"
"Thirty-four, double-D," she whispered. "They're pretty firm. They sag only the tiniest bit when I stand up."
"Very impressive. How does it feel when a man fucks your tits and cums all over them?"
"No one has ever fucked my tits."
She wished a man would. She closed her eyes and pictured his long cock sticking out between the big mounds so she could lick the head while he fucked them. Who was she kidding? A plain old fuck, even a quickie, would make her ecstatic!
"You don't know what you're missing. Make your nipples hard."
She wet the tip of her index finger with saliva and began to rub her nipples, first the right one, then the left one, back and forth. "Okay, my nipples are getting hard. They're beginning to get as big as the end of my finger. Stroke your cock."
"I'm stroking it, but not very fast. Do you like it when a man cums on your face?"
"No one has ever done that, either."
"You lead a very placid life."
"Dreary is more like it," Maggie said woefully. "Would you like to fuck my tits and cum on my face?"
"I would love to. Would you wipe up my cum with your fingers and eat it?"
Maggie smacked her lips flagrantly. "Ummm, I can taste it."
"Spread your legs and show me your pussy."
She spread her legs wide and let him look at her pussy. "My bush is real thick," she said quietly. "like a forest. I never trim it, so it grows wild and free. It's real long down the middle of my pussy. So long I can curl it around my finger."
"I like a thick bush. Some women cut their muff back to a little topknot or a thin strip of hair. Maybe they do it so the lips of their pussy will show. I don't know. It looks ridiculous. They should either shave it completely or let it grow."
Maggie chuckled. "The lips of my pussy are so long they stick out beyond my bush. I think I have the longest pussy lips in the world. They cling to a cock like sticky tape and roll in and out so lasciviously."
Oh, fuck, she screamed in her mind, why can't I have a cock in my pussy right now, making the lips roll in and out!
Her hand crept between her legs. She gently eased her index finger between her cunt lips, simultaneously soothed and aroused. His lusty attention sparked her desire, and she knew she had to continue.
She opened her legs wider and worked her finger into her slick hole. She had never done it like this before, so rough and so wanton. His smile of pleasure made her moan with sensual delight. She began to work her finger faster, eager to achieve an orgasm while he watched. She wanted to feel his hot seed on her tits as she climaxed.
"Your hand is in the way," he said. "I can't see your clit. Describe it to me."
"This conversation is making me very horny," she said quietly. "I have to cum soon."
"You can wait. Describe your clit."
"It's hard to describe. A clit is a clit. My hood is sort of long. When my clit is aroused, it sticks out far enough to see. A tongue loving it makes it get fairly big."
"Do you like to jack off?"
"Yes, but I cum better when I fuck or when my clit is licked."
"You jack off a lot, don't you?"
Too often! But I have no choice. What else can I do, without a man in my life ? Without a cock to ride on a regular basis?
"Yes. And I'm going to do it right now. I can't wait any longer."
"Make believe I'm licking your clit."
"I'm wetting my finger in my pussy," she whispered. "Now I'm rubbing my clit. Ohhh, God, it feels good! I'm going to cum, baby! Ahhhhhh, I'm going to cum! Oh, yes, baby, it's here! I'm cumming! Oooooo! Aaahhh!"
Her orgasm peaked abruptly, then began to subside as quickly. Self-induced orgasms always disappointed her. She never got the deep flush of color across her chest. She never hung on the edge of ecstasy the way she did when a man licked her clit, or fucked her. Hell, she didn't even break a sweat!
"Lick your finger," he said. "Taste your pussy."
She had never thought of licking her finger after jacking off. She automatically lifted her hand and licked her finger clean.
"How does it tastes?"
Maggie giggled. "like my pussy, silly!"
"Have you ever tasted another pussy?"
"No. I don't know any women who eat pussy."
"You should seek one out. Women are expert clit lickers."
"Well, that stands to reason. Women are the ones with clits, and they know how they want it licked. But I don't think I could do that."
"Do you like to get your clit licked?"
"Of course. It's one of my favorite ways to cum."
"Then you could do it. A tongue is a tongue. When it's used properly, the gender of the licker doesn't matter. You just spread your legs and enjoy."
"I meant, I don't think I could seek out a woman who licks clit. I'd be too embarrassed to ask and I can't just look at a woman and tell. Besides, I'm not sure I want a relationship with a lesbian."
"Not all women who lick clit are lesbians. Some are bisexual. I think most women are, but they won't admit it."
"Do you think I'm bisexual?"
CHAPTER EIGHT
Maggie had never considered the possibility. She wondered how she would react if another woman did come on to her. Would she really be able to lie back and relax and let another woman lick her pussy?
"I think you need to learn to let yourself go and enjoy your sexuality to the fullest. Is your pussy wet?"
"like a swamp!"
"Stick your finger in your hole. Finger-fuck yourself."
"Mmmmm, it feels good," she said softly, working her finger slowly in out of her cunt. "But not as good as a cock."
"You're hung up on cock, aren't you?"
"I'd like to get hung up on one right now!" she said. "Wouldn't you like to fuck me? I sure could use your cock right now. My hole is real small. You'd love having your cock in it. I know you would."
"Can you take a really big cock in your tight little hole?"
"I don't know. What do you mean by really big?"
"What's the biggest cock you've ever had in you?"
"Oh, about six, maybe six and a half inches long, and about as big around as three of my fingers when I hold them together," she said. "My fingers aren't very big."
"Are you a cocksucker?"
The word jarred her sensibilities. "Yes," she whispered. "Whenever I have the chance."
"Say it. Tell me what you are."
She hesitated, inhaled, then said softly, "I'm a cocksucker." She closed her eyes and let her breath out slowly. "Are you beating your meat real hard? Are you going to cum for me?"
"Do you want me to cum for you?"
"Oh, yes! I want you to cum real good, baby. I'm finger-fucking myself. I'm going to cum. Pump your cock hard, baby! Cum with me. Squirt your cum all over my tits!"
"Yeah," he grunted. "Going to cum with you, baby. It's just about ready to squirt. Ahhh, here it cums."
"Oh, yes," she panted. "God, cum is flying all over the place!"
She hit the peak. And came wide awake. She peered into the shadows, and realized that she was all alone.
"Shit!" she muttered.
She got up and got a glass of water from the bathroom. She went back to bed and lay in the darkness, thinking. She wondered why she dreamed about another woman licking her pussy. She had never consciously thought about making it with a woman. The idea had to come from somewhere. Were dreams really an expression of subconscious desires? Did she harbor a latent lesbian yearning deep in her subconscious?
Some so-called experts on sexuality said that all women were innately bisexual. Was she? She couldn't be. She loved cock too much. Even if she wanted to find out, she had no idea how to go about it. She couldn't openly approach another woman and ask if she wanted to try a little lesbian loving. Just so she could find out if she was bisexual, you understand. God, she couldn't think of a faster way to ruin her career.
She touched her tits. Her nipples were still hot and swollen. Her breath began to come in hoarse gusts as she gently kneaded the mounds of supple flesh and pinched the thick, taut peaks capping them.
What did a pussy taste like? Not the secondhand taste she got from her own fingers, but directly on a tongue stuck right into a woman's core.
Her hands moved lower down her body, across the smooth expanse of her belly. The tips of her fingers touched the upper fringe of the soft, curly strands of her brown bush.
Why did tits fascinate men so? Why did they go gaga about sucking nipples? She loved to suck cock, but that wasn't the same. Was it? How would it feel to have a stiff nipple between her lips, to nurse on it? She liked to have her nipples sucked. There had to be a direct link between her nipples and clit. When her nipples were sucked, her clit tingled. Did other women experience the same sensation? Would she like to conduct a little experiment and find out for herself?
The stunning contact of her middle finger on the feverish, tingling bud of her clit made her tremble. For a brief moment, she let her finger lie immobile on the rigid stud.
She closed her eyes and tried to conjure up an image of another woman licking her pussy. It didn't work. She couldn't conceive of herself being even passively bisexual. If she let another woman lick her clit, she would have to reciprocate, wouldn't she? She knew beyond any doubt that she couldn't even touch another pussy, let alone lick it.
A pleasurable tremor of longing coursed outward from her loins, saturating her flesh with carnal heat. The vision of Pat Riley popped into her mind again. Her fingers magically changed into his fingers, his tongue, his cock.
Her fingers began to move lazily. A harbinger of the bliss to come surged through her flesh. Her fingers began to flick faster over her thoroughly aroused clit. Shock waves shot into her tumescent nipples. She moaned softly as the titillating tingle of delight radiated from her loins and began to tease the primed bud of her clit more vigorously.
She opened her legs wider, planted her feet firmly on the bed and arched her back. Her ass began to sway sensuously. She stuck her finger into her sultry hole and rubbed love oil up and down her lust-tortured slit.
Burning desire began to flutter through her body as she continued the lewd, autoerotic caress. She wormed three fingers into her seething hole. Moaning out loud, she burrowed her fingers into her spastic channel and began to pump them vigorously. She swiftly agitated the hot bud at the top of her hairy gash with two fingers of her other hands. Her hips began to undulate. Her lower belly began to quiver. She surrendered completely to her lascivious yearning. She began to writhe lustfully as she finger-fucked her slippery hole and frigged her clit furiously.
Her entire body began to shudder. Coarse grunts and groans and whimpers spewed from her lips as she moved her fingers in a frantic rhythm in and out of her scalding snatch and over her pulsating clitoris. Pat climbed between her legs and guided the bloated head of his big cock to her sopping cunthole.
Her titillated twat sucked wantonly on her fingers; fingers that in her frenzied imagination became Pat's prick. She felt the tide of ecstasy rising deep in her heaving belly. Spontaneous contractions tortured her body as she reached anxiously for deliverance. Spasms of heated promise built in her pussy. Her tits jiggled from the insane tossing of her lust-wracked torso as she finger-fucked herself harder. She began to jerk from the wild convulsions of sexual delight flowing rapidly from her loins.
A distinct trembling began deep in her quivering belly and rushed to the surface in a blistering whirlwind of rapture. The breathtaking wave of passion burst forth and roared through her thrashing body. Her cunt sucked lewdly at her fucking fingers. Her breath rasped from her throat in short gasps. She cried out blatantly in deliverance, wallowing in carnal bliss as the lightning bolts of ecstasy jolted relentlessly through her.
She fell back on the bed, her body limp and spent. Less violent spasms continued to course through her loins for several moments.
Jacking off made her crave a cock more than ever. She got up, put on a robe and a pair of slippers and went to the main house. She hurried up the stairs to the third floor, thankful that she hadn't met anyone. She didn't feel like explaining her presence in the house so late at night, barely dressed.
CHAPTER NINE
A hot shower and cool, clean sheets were a perfect end to Patrick Riley's hectic day. Within minutes, he reached REM sleep and began to have an erotic dream.
He relished the humid, avaricious mouth engulfing his cock, sucking him just the way he liked. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at the head bobbing up and down over his loins. Luxuriant tresses spread out over his thighs and stomach, veiling the woman's face. Nothing, however, could disguise the sensations generated by the mouth loving his cock and the hands fondling his balls.
After a moment, he realized that he wasn't dreaming. "What the hell?" he muttered.
Maggie lifted her head and gave him a fervent look that said she would condone no bullshit from him. She glanced down at his cock, and her expression changed to utter licentiousness. She had not expected the reporter to be endowed with such a gorgeous cock. Long and thick, with a superbly shaped head, it was unequivocally the answer to her desperate need.
She lifted his prick in one hand and cupped his balls in her other hand. Deliberately, in an entirely wanton gesture, she pressed the bare knob of his cock to her smooth cheek, then rubbed it over her face, her neck, and down to her tits.
She changed from her public identity to the one that better suited her secret personality-a lewd and lusty, bawdy woman who would fuck a man senseless! She put her hands on the outside of her tits and cradled his cock between the big, firm mounds. Horny thoughts filled her mind. She held the shaft of his prick prisoner in the heated, supple flesh and wiggled her chest up and down.
She felt wanton. She wanted to be wanton. She hugged his cock tighter between her full tits and swayed back and forth as she looked down at her tits and smiled dreamily. She was going to make this man very glad that he was alive.
She let her tits slide lower, baring the head of his dick. Her tongue flicked out, broad and wet and warm, and wiped across the knob. He let out a deep moan as her tongue began to tickle lightly back and forth, the tip barely touching the end of his swollen cock. She bent her head lower, washed the head of his cock with the flat of her tongue. He moaned again, louder and longer.
She looked him in the eye and chuckled, a rich, tantalizing sound that made his blood run hot with carnal desire. He lay back down and closed his eyes. She bent her head again and once again began to lick the head of the prick held captive between her solid, bountiful tits.
He tangled his fingers in her hair and groaned as her tongue swirled and teased the head of his dick. Her lush red lips puckered, then formed a big oval. Her toasty-warm, wet mouth closed over his pulsating cock and she began to suck as if starved for the taste of a cock and its fruits.
Her oral adulation thrilled him to the core. If she didn't want to talk, that was just fine with him. He wanted badly to fuck her, but decided he wouldn't push the point. Maybe she simply wanted to suck him off. He let her set the rules of engagement, willingly following her lead.
Maggie acted like a shameless hussy simply because, at the moment, she felt like a shameless hussy. Her sexual deprivation, her urgent longing for cock had lasted far too long.
Abruptly, she grabbed his hips and pulled him over. As he moved, she slid under him on her back and threw her legs wide apart. Her mound jutted, her tumid pussy lips gaped, fully exposing her pink, glistening slit.
He gazed at the forest of brown hair in her crotch and the enticing gash peeking through the crisp curls with profound lust. His eyes lifted to her magnificent tits. He leaned over and touched his lips to one nipple. She reacted as if someone had stuck a hot poker to her tender flesh. His lips covered her nipple. The tip of his tongue passed over it lightly, then pressed harder.
One of his hands drifted slowly down her body. Her skin had the downy texture of the finest velvet, satiny and warm, firm against his fingers. Every muscle in her body quivered with fervent anticipation. Her hot breath wafted against his cheek. His fingers slipped over her mossy mound and into her torrid slit. A strangled cry of joy bubbled from her throat.
He lifted his mouth from her tit and put his lips on hers. Her mouth opened and her lips came alive. She sucked and nibbled avidly on his tongue, her lips damp and supple against his. She put one arm around his neck and pulled.
His tongue wiggled against hers, wrapped around it, caressed it as he probed the savory interior of her sweet mouth. His mind reeled under the magnetism of her aura, her unshackled sensuality.
He broke the kiss, stuck out his tongue, and dragged it down her body-between her heaving tits, across her taut belly, and between her legs. He wedged his hands under her ass and planted a wet, open-mouth kiss on her furry seam. The heart-thrilling flavor of her erotic juice filled his mouth as he caressed the succulent flesh with long strokes of his tongue.
A wail of exhilaration burst from her mouth as she began to writhe under him and tried to push her entire twat into his mouth. A mind-boggling, blessed orgasm captured her in its grip the moment his tongue touched her pussy.
He plunged his tongue into her sopping seam and began to thrust it rapidly in and out, fucking her orally. Her seductive body writhing and trembling in front of him amplified the acute throbbing in his cock. The taste, the feel, of her scrumptious pussy enveloping his tongue pushed his lust to the breaking point. He rose, grabbed her thighs and pulled her ass toward him.
She reached down to seize his prick in one dainty hand and guided it into her fiery, greedy fuckhole. She got the end of his rod positioned just in time. He continued to pull her toward him, using her movement to bury his prick to the hilt in her quivering belly.
He paused for a moment to savor the feel of her snug channel. Either she hadn't fucked in a long time, or she knew some remarkably effective muscle exercises. He released her legs and pushed his hands under her shapely ass. He cupped her tight buttocks and groaned with pleasure as he began to fuck her furiously.
"Fuck me!" she cried with gluttonous rapture. "Fuck me hard!"
She didn't have to tell him to fuck her, but hearing her utter the words excited him. Too few women realized that talking while fucking enhanced their allure. He didn't know if she knew that talking enhanced her allure, or she simply liked to hear herself bawl bawdy words while fucking. He didn't care which. He liked it.
He fucked her so hard they bounced around the bed, writhing and humping vigorously. He wasn't doing all the work by any means. She gave him as good as she got, twisting her ass, jerking her hips up and down, gripping him with her legs, clutching his cock with powerful cunt muscles. If he had stayed utterly passive, she would have given him an outstanding ride in her sexy saddle.
They were both so lost in physical euphoria, they didn't realize they were about to fall off the bed. They hit the floor with a loud thud. He continued to fuck furiously. She locked her legs around his neck, lifted her ass in the air and continued to fuck back at him with reckless abandon.
The carpet scratched her shoulders. She neither knew nor cared. The splendid sensations between her legs-the long, stout prick in her cunt, sawing in and out, fucking her so wonderfully-absorbed her.
His ass began to move faster as he strained to drive his prick deeper and deeper. His cock swelled and pulsated lustily and stretched her cunt so gloriously. Abruptly, his sticky, hot cream began to gush into her quivering belly.
She started cumming the instant he put his tongue in her pussy, and hadn't stopped. She soared to new heights as he pumped his prick in and out of her cunt and filled her with his precious jism. She expressed her joy in audacious, wanton cries. He fucked on and on, oblivious to her complete surrender to her orgasmic bliss and his ravaging prick.
She kept her legs locked around his waist, holding him close. She fucked back at him, finishing off her own orgasm and extracting the last drop of cum from his cock. Satisfied that she had everything he could give her for the moment, and totally gratified by his splendid prick, she unlocked her legs and rolled away from him.
Without a word or backward glance, she put on her shirt and robe, slid her feet into her slippers and left.
Pat sat up and sighed. The still air in the small room reeked of aroused pussy. He closed the window to keep the ambrosial scent from escaping, then climbed back into bed and flopped onto his back. In a few moments, he was sound asleep again, worn out by Maggie's dynamic fucking. He didn't dream this time.
CHAPTER TEN
Maggie pulled her robe around her and stepped out into the dark, drizzly night.
"Hello," Tyson said. "You're out late."
Maggie nearly jumped out of her skin. She gathered her wits and said, "How's Andrea?"
"Mary says she is still asleep. God, what a day! You ought not be prowling around at this time of night. I'll walk you back to the cottage."
"Is the sheriff gone?"
"For the time being. He'll be back."
"How's the investigation going?"
"I don't know. You know how the cops are. They badger the hell out of you, then don't tell you anything. They told me that I have to stay here," he said irritably. He took a couple quick puffs on his cigarette. "Damned inconvenient. I'm a broker, you know. I can't waste my time here. I have to get back to Atlanta and take care of business." He heard footsteps and looked around. "What are you doing, Bradford?"
"Going for a walk in the woods," Bradford said. "What are you doing?"
"I was just going to escort Miss Maggie back to the guest cottage," Tyson replied.
"Is she afraid of the famous tramp?" Bradford asked, then laughed unpleasantly.
He's been drinking, Maggie thought with a flicker of anxiety. Sober, he could be unpredictable. Drunk, he could be dangerous. Could she do anything with him? No, better leave him to Smithfield.
"The tramp," Bradford repeated raucously. "Don't be afraid of a tramp. A tramp didn't kill Duncan. And we all know it. You're safe enough, Maggie, unless you've got some evidence. Have you got any evidence, Maggie?" He took her elbow and shook it roughly. "She's the quiet kind, Tyson, who sees everything and says nothing. But, she's got evidence enough to hang us all. Evidence. That's what we need, Tyson, evidence."
"You're drunk, Bradford," Maggie said sternly. She shook off his hand. She looked at his white, tightly drawn face and suddenly felt sorry for him. "Go on, take your walk," she said more kindly. "Everything will be all right."
"Nothing will ever be the same again," Bradford said sadly. "Never the same. Do you know why, Maggie? Because Emma shot him. Yes, sir."
"Don't bother me, Tyson. I know what I'm saying. Emma makes me sick."
She didn't make you so sick that you couldn't fuck her in the garden last night, Maggie thought.
"Come on, Bradford." Tyson took Bradford's arm. "I'll take care of him, Maggie."
Maggie watched Tyson lead Bradford back into the house. Bradford's impulsiveness was rooted in his genes, and he couldn't do anything about it. The Howe men were brash, bold and iconoclastic.
Maggie looked back at the house. It seemed cold and deserted. She felt a sinister presence, as if the angel of death was hovering over the place, beating his dark wings, waiting to sweep down and claim another victim.
"Nonsense," she said aloud. "Nonsense. You're letting your imagination run away." Nonetheless, she ran the rest of the way to the guest cottage.
Tyson took Bradford back inside the house and turned him over to George with instructions to put him to bed. He waited until they disappeared up the stairs, then followed quietly. He stopped at the first door on the right and knocked lightly.
Emma opened the door and looked at him through eyes made bleary by too much alcohol. She wore only a thin robe, and it gaped open to reveal her nude body.
"What the hell do you want, Tyson?" she asked belligerently, slurring her words.
He eyed her nudity. He had done better. At the moment, he could do worse. "We have to talk," he said. "About Duncan's investments. I suppose you'll inherit his estate, and I need to know what you want me to do."
Emma hooked her hand in his belt. He pushed the door shut and let her drag him into the room.
"What I want you to do has nothing to do with money," she said. "You didn't come here to talk about Duncan's investments anyway."
"Oh?" He lifted one eyebrow. "Why did I come here?"
"To fuck me," she said simply. "Andrea's asleep and Maggie won't give you the time of day, so I'm the only one left. Unless you want to try your luck with Mary or Estelle. Or change your luck." She threw herself at him. Her arms flew around his neck and she squirmed against him.
"You are one crazy broad," he muttered.
"Uh huh, and I'm horny, too."
"I've been watching you. I think you're always horny." He put his arms around her and cupped her ass.
"That's why you're here."
She tilted her mouth up and he kissed her. Her mouth opened under his. The tip of his tongue played over her lips, caressing lightly, then slowly went into her mouth.
She murmured as his tongue explored the inside of her mouth. She closed her lips and sucked on his tongue. He began to work it in and out of her mouth, simulating a fucking motion. She held his tongue lightly with her lips.
She could feel his cock pressing against her bare belly. Her hips moved forward spontaneously, thrusting her cunt mound at him. He held one cheek of her ass in each hand and pulled her closer. She moaned and sucked harder on his tongue. She opened her legs, captured the head of his prick between her thighs and began to dry fuck him.
He put one hand on her shoulder, pushed her chest back and began to knead her bare tit. Her eyes smoldered with lusty hunger. Her lips parted slightly and the tip of her tongue played over them. She looked like a wanton slut, and they both knew it.
"It feels so good when you play with my tits," she husked.
He chuckled. "Yeah, me and anybody else you think you have a chance of nailing."
Her eyes sparkled. Her thick, dusky-pink nipples stood fully erect. A flush covered her throat and chest. He squeezed both of her tits. Her sex flush spread and deepened. Her tit buds got so hard they almost hurt.
Emma rubbed her hand over the front of his pants, confirmed that his cock was already hard. She stepped up to him, opened her legs, and squirmed her cunt mound against his cock bulge. He fastened his mouth to her eager lips and her tongue uncoiled like a snake in his mouth. She shuddered and moaned.
He slipped a hand between her thighs and caressed her mossy cunt mound. She spread her legs wider. His fingers slithered into her drenched, sizzling slit.
She wound her arms around his neck and moaned louder. Two of his fingers snaked into her fiery hole. She whined and began to jerk her hips, fucking herself on his fingers.
He picked her up and carried her to the bed. "Open your legs," he said softly. "Show me your cunt."
She opened her legs leisurely, flirtatiously. Her wet snatch looked as if a heavy rainstorm had just passed over it. He undressed as he watched her.
"Wider," he said. "Show me some pink."
She spread her legs more. She could feel the lips of her cunt separate. Juice gushed from her hole and saturated the hair along her slit.
"Use your hands. Spread the lips."
She was entirely under his mastery, unable to resist even if she wanted to. She liked it when men played sexy games with her before they fucked her. Not many men knew how. Certainly not Duncan or Bradford. She got a big kick out of exhibiting her most intimate treasure in such a raunchy fashion-felt positively unrestrained and wanton as she complied with his demands. She used just the tips of her fingers to carefully pull the lips of her cunt as far apart as they would go.
He stared into the pink, hair-lined gash of juicy cunt flesh. His tongue hankered to delve into the inner sanctum she flaunted so lewdly to his greedy eyes. He licked his lips. His breathing became shallow.
"Play with your pussy. Show me how you jack off."
The game was getting better and better. His words seared her brain; made her obey willingly. She captured her clit between the middle and index fingers of her right hand. The middle and second fingers of her left hand stole into her humid groove. Both hands began to work. She hungered for a good cum; longed to get herself off. For herself. For him. For the whole fucking world!
She wiggled back and propped her shoulders against the headboard. She stared directly into his eyes as she pulled her legs up. She let her knees fall to the sides and put the soles of her feet together, assuming the most provocative pose she could imagine.
"You know how to get to a woman, don't you?" she whispered.
He arched one eyebrow and smiled without replying.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Her fingers made sexy, squishy sounds as she pumped them in and out and wriggled them around in her glory hole. Her face flushed deeply. Her brain seethed with licentious lust. Her fingers began to move faster and faster. Her tits jiggled and danced the shimmy. Her hips began to undulate in a rhythm as old as time itself, matching her finger-fucking.
"You like to watch me jack off, don't you?" Her voice was guttural, strained with emotion. "Play with your cock. Jack it. I'm ready to cum for you."
He hefted his prick in one hand. He gripped the shaft and began to stroke it slowly. She smiled and began to frig her love button faster.
She finger-fucked herself vigorously with her left hand, pulling her fingers out all the way and shoving them back in as hard as she could. The thought of his cock crammed up her cunt pushed her passions higher.
"I'm going to cum now," she said hoarsely.
"Watch me cum for you!"
He watched raptly as she mauled her love button and finger-fucked herself. Her body shook, her eyes rolled back in her head. She lost control, writhed and bounced spastically on the bed.
He crawled onto the bed and knelt between her legs with his face near her crotch. Her climax ran its course and her hands fell away from her cunt. He leaned forward and kissed her sticky gash tenderly. He licked the full length of her slit, starting at the bottom, not stopping until his tongue reached in the hair above the top of her cleft.
"Ummmmm," she moaned. "That feels good!"
He parted her cunt lips with his fingers, flattened his tongue and very slowly licked her gash. His tongue passed near her clit as he repeated the maneuver several times, but he carefully avoided the hard stud. Her body jerked each time his tongue skittered by the large bud without touching it. Her hips began to undulate and her ass twitched from side to side as she tried to get her clit under his tongue.
Juice flowed from her hole in a steady stream. Her breathing became very shallow. She spontaneously kneaded her tits and pulled and pinched her nipples. Her nipples erected into thick, protruding points. She felt another climax gathering strength, a heartbeat from surging to its grand finale.
His mouth suddenly left her cunt.
"Noooooo!" she wailed. "Don't stop!"
He ignored her plea. He got on his knees between her thighs and stuck the head of his prick in her slit. He rubbed the knob up and down, the same way he licked her moments earlier. Again, when she began to near a climax, he changed strategy. He straddled her body and rubbed the head of his cock over her stiff nipples.
She looked up at him through lust-glazed eyes. "You're mean," she moaned.
She didn't mean it. She genuinely enjoyed the game, loved the way he took his time, brought her near the peak of pleasure again and again, got her so hot she could hardly stand it before awarding her the ultimate prize.
He chuckled mischievously. "How badly do you want to cum?"
"I can barely stand it!" she panted. "Are you going to fuck me now?"
"Hmmmm," he responded noncommittally.
The idea appealed to him, but he wanted her ready to climb the walls before he got her off. He flopped onto his stomach between her legs. He glued his mouth to her cunt and his tongue began an erotic snake dance on her rigid joy buzzer.
Her breath escaped in a great whoosh as his mouth closed over her hairy grotto. When his tongue began to lash her clit, she nearly screamed. Her ass began to lurch up and down. Her thighs began to shake. Her tits began to jiggle. She bucked and pitched and heaved her cunt against his mouth.
"Ooohhhh, fuck!" she wailed.
He continued to lick her clit. Her writhing and bucking increased. Soft whimpers began to pour from her mouth. A fierce orgasm nearly took her breath away. She went over the peak, then suddenly started cumming again, deeper and harder. He began to lick her clit faster.
Her second orgasm built steadily, carrying her to outer space. She soared through the universe to faraway places, then her carnal flame flickered and began to burn lower.
She came down slowly. He continued to lick her clit as she eased away from the sheer precipice of passion. She reached the bottom of the slope and lay motionless and limp, unable to move a muscle.
"God damn!" she whispered.
He gave her pussy one last long lingering lick. "You liked that, huh?"
"Fantastic!" she breathed. "I didn't know that men could lick clit so well."
He kissed her and let her suck his sticky tongue for a couple of moments. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled over. "Your turn."
She slid down his body. Her nipples traced fiery trails on his skin. His stiff prick twitched when it passed between her solid mounds of mammary flesh. Her mouth slurped over the head of his prick and drew the stiff rod deep into her mouth. The tip touched the back of her throat before she stopped. She sucked lustily for a few minutes, using her tongue wildly, skillfully.
She pulled her mouth away and looked up at him, her grin hot and lewd. She held his cock in one hand as she got to her knees and straddled his hips. She hovered over the end of his dick, her wet slit scant inches from the tip. Her ass went lower, just enough to put her hot cunt lips on his knob. Looking directly into his eyes with a hot, lusty stare, she slowly rubbed the tip of his prick back and forth through her sloppy slit.
"Ummmm, I love to fuck," she whispered hotly.
"Yeah, I know," he said.
She slowly went wild as she rubbed the head of his prick through her cunt lips. She brought herself right to the peak of madness, just as he had done earlier. Then she put the mouth of her cunt directly over his cock. The blunt head nosed between the drenched lips of her slit as she lowered her ass. She held onto the shaft of his prick and fed it to her hungry gash.
His cock slid easily into her pulsating sheath, inch by hard inch. She arched her back and suddenly let her body drop, taking his prick all the way to the balls.
"Oooooooo, I can cum right now," she whispered happily.
He reached up and began to knead her tits. "Why wait?"
She began to slide her sheath up and down the length of his hard rod. Her ass rose and fell in a steady, even rhythm. He pinched and pulled her nipples, adding to her pleasure. She threw her cunt forward and jammed the head of his cock to the bottom of her channel on the down stroke. She closed her eyes and began to fuck faster.
Suddenly, her body went into violent convulsions. She bucked up and down wildly. He grabbed her ass and began to ram his prick into her cunt. Each time he threw his hips up, he lifted her knees off the bed. When her orgasm was over, she went limp and lay like a rag doll on top of him.
He patted her on the ass and said, "I do need to talk to you about Duncan's investments."
"Pleasure first," she replied. "Put me on my back and fuck me again, then we'll talk business."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Maggie returned from her impetuous nocturnal visit to Patrick Riley's room and took a quick shower. She went to bed and tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She had satisfied her immediate need for cock, but she wanted more. She didn't like instant coffee, but made a cup anyway. She stood at the window and stared at the dark house as the coffee sat on the counter, getting cold.
She put on a simple cotton house dress, a pair of moccasins, and walked briskly out the door. She walked straight to the house and up the stairs to Pat's room.
He was lying on top of the blanket, nude. He sat up and looked at her.
She stood just inside the door for a few moments. "I'm back," she said softly.
"So I see," he replied with a big grin. "Come on in. You're always welcome."
She kicked off her moccasins, then slowly crossed the small room and stood by the bed.
She looked at his cock as she quickly pulled her dress over her head and dropped it. Her firm, ripe tits jutted out haughtily. The stately, fleshy globes tingled with excitement when she cupped them. Warm juice flooded the neglected orifice between her thighs. Longing burned deep in her belly.
He moved back and turned onto his side. She lay down facing him, put one leg over his hip and parted her lips. His mouth covered hers in a long, thoroughly demanding kiss.
"Mmmmmm," she muttered softly. She let herself go, looking forward to the orgasm already stirring in her loins. A passionate warmth permeated her body and mind.
His lips began to work skillfully against hers, coaxing and teasing, fueling the blaze that ran through the underground river of her desire. His mouth held her attention while his hands began to search and explore, seeking her erogenous zones. One hand traveled over the gentle curve of her hip and made its way along the length of her alluring thigh.
She invited his fondling by murmuring and sighing into his mouth. She pressed her prominent mound against his cock, wiggled and squirmed with happiness. A fog of luxurious vibrations plucked at her senses, coaxing her deeper and deeper under his erotic spell.
He pressed the full length of his body against hers. His pelvis began to undulate in a compulsive, sensuous rhythm. His breath became heavier and more uneven. His lips nibbled and played skillfully up and down her neck, sending chills of pleasure coursing down the length of her spine.
His lips captured hers again. His hands began to roam all over her body, caressing her tits, her belly, her inner thighs, reawakening every erotic nerve in her shapely body.
He pushed against her hip and rolled her onto her back. She instinctively spread her legs, eagerly opening herself wide for him. She writhed and nearly laughed with relief when his hand settled onto her mossy mound.
He slid between her legs and gazed hungrily at the succulent pink flesh of her snatch. Her garden of bliss dripped with nectar and pulsated with lust. His mouth watered in anticipation of tasting her essence.
He slithered his tongue between the bloated lips of her luscious pussy and breathed out, drenching her twat with the tantalizing heat of his breath.
"Ooohhh, fuck!" she sighed. She arched her back off the bed in an instinctive spasm of rapture. Her eyelids fluttered and closed. Her fingernails clawed at the sheet as a precipitate, stimulating surge of ecstasy washed over her.
He lifted his head and chuckled, "Well, by God, you aren't mute!"
His stuck his tongue back in her slit. He began to lick and stroke, lapping up the juice dribbling from her liquefied hole. The flavor fired his senses, went to his head like potent alcohol, warmed his blood and set it to pounding harder than ever in his throbbing tool. He swallowed noisily and flicked his tongue steadily along the puffy crack.
"Oh, God! Ooohhh! Oooohhhhh!" Maggie exclaimed, lost completely in the wonderful sensations flowing from between her legs. She had nearly forgotten how good it felt to get her pussy licked by a talented tongue.
Her breath began to come in gasping little pants. Her belly began to rise and fall rapidly. Her hips began to pick up the rhythm instinctively, responding to his creative licking. Her legs stretched and strained. Her muscles contracted and flexed with the tension of desire. She spread her thighs until her legs went straight out from her hips, gladly giving him her most special treasure. The sound of his tongue softly slurping in her juicy snatch kicked her passion higher.
Pat lifted his head and said quietly, "Your pussy tastes so good. I love to suck your sweet snatch and drink your delicious nectar."
"Then get it, baby!" she cried with gluttonous enthusiasm, her voice strained with passion. "Suck my cunt!"
Her puffy cunt lips throbbed and pulsated madly. Her excitement grew by leaps and bounds. Prickling sensations darted over her entire body like lightning, a thousand invisible fingers caressing every inch of her naked flesh. Her tits jiggled and bounced as she twisted and writhed under his relentless licking. She could feel her nipples puckering into rigid points, stimulated by the thrilling shivers and vibrations that rose from her cunt and coursed through her.
Then his tongue slithered up and centered itself on the sensitive bud of her clitoris. He used just the tip at first, flicking softly and rapidly, teasing her without mercy.
"Ohhh, yes, baby!" she wailed. "That's it! My God, that's it!"
She felt as if his tongue had reached deep into her and caressed the very hub of her existence. Her whole body expanded and wrapped itself around his tongue. She began to pull and pinch her nipples, delirious with carnal stimulation, unable to keep her hands still.
"Oh, Pat, baby, your tongue is wonderful! Simply wonderful! God, I love getting my clit licked! Get it, baby! Get me off!"
He continued to work on her clit, knowing what she felt. He knew that he was pleasing her to the ultimate, making her his prisoner of love. Which was exactly where he wanted her-out of her mind with ecstasy.
He continued to flick his tongue over her love bud in a rapid tattoo, teasing her, making her beg for more. Her hips began to swivel as her body began to respond more compulsively to her deep-seated, unsatisfied lust. He slipped his hands under her, grasped her foxy ass, and lifted her crotch against his mouth so he could drink more easily from her sex bowl.
Her delight snowballed. Her writhing and quivering grew more blatant. Her legs stretched and widened, then closed in to clutch at him, imprisoning his head between the velvet ramparts of her thighs. Her clit began to flutter and dance turbulently, responding to each flick of his tongue with a spasm of pleasure.
Her shapely ass cheeks contracted into taut bunches. She jerked her hips up, forced her dripping snatch tighter to his mouth. He began to increase the friction on her clit.
He chuckled to himself and applied his tongue with more force to her fiercely quivering joy button. He knew she was scant seconds away from a formidable climax. He pushed his mouth into the maw of her cunt with unbridled gluttony. His tongue and lips made raunchy gobbling and smacking sounds as he urged her toward the finish line. He pressed on her clit as hard as he could, then eased off a little and began to lick faster.
She banged her cunt into his mouth with absolute abandon. Suddenly, her entire body began to shake like a grass shanty rocked by a violent earthquake. She shouted and screeched, bucked and strained and twisted. Her orgasm was more exhilarating, more exquisite, than she imagined possible. She let it take her, let it command her, surrendered utterly to the blessed deliverance.
She collapsed, gasping, momentarily dazed. She wondered if she was having another delirious dream from which she would wake to find her finger in her pussy instead of Pat's tongue. Cautiously, hoping she wasn't dreaming, she blinked her eyes several times. The room gradually swam back into focus. And there she was, lying on his bed on her back, her legs spread wide, wide open. He lay on his stomach between her shapely stems, licking his lips as if he had just finished a first class, multi-course banquet instead of the feast he had made of her pussy.
She sat up and rolled onto her side, facing his feet. "Hmmmmmm," she muttered as her hand closed on his bloated, trembling prick.
"This feels like a big stick of candy. I've always had this thing for big sticks of candy." She ran her tongue across the very tip of his cock. "Tastes like candy," she mused.
"Suck me off," Pat said quietly.
She got up on her knees and pushed him flat on his back. She gazed at his prick with delight. She lifted it with both hands and began to gently massage the shaft. She rolled the foreskin back and forth, baring the head, then concealing it again.
"Exactly what I had in mind," she whispered. "I love the taste of cum. Been too damned long since I've had a taste of the delicious stuff." She slid off the bed to her knees and pulled on his leg to turn him. "Sit on the edge of the bed so I can use both hands and my mouth."
He would have dangled from the ceiling by his toes for her. He sat up and put his feet on the floor by her hips. She grasped his cock with both hands and held it like a baseball bat with the fat end pointed at her face. He put his hands on her head to guide her. She shook him off with an impatient twitch of her head, then leaned forward. Her sweltering mouth opened as her head moved lower. The head of his prick slid slowly between her lush lips and into her warm oral cavern.
"Marvelous!" he breathed.
She began to bob her head rhythmically, thrusting her mouth further and further down the shaft of his cock. One hand held his rod tightly around the base. Her other slid down to cup and gently knead his swollen balls.
His eyes clouded with carnal pleasure as he gazed down at her. To stick his dick in such a sexy mouth, to gratify her hunger for a taste of cum, gave him sublime pleasure. She wouldn't have to suck very long. Eating her pussy had brought his emotions to the boiling point. He had the feeling it didn't matter to her. She would suck until she sucked seed. It was as simple as that.
He put his hands lightly on her cheeks so he could feel his cock slide between her hot lips. He ran his fingers over her ears and into her hair, feeling the fluffy softness of her curls caressing his fingers.
Methodically, she worked his cock in and out of her heavenly mouth. She swallowed every inch of his meaty shaft. The tip nudged the back of her throat. She swallowed, breathed through her nose, and suppressed the reflex to gag. She had deep-throated a few cocks, but never one so large. She felt very proud of her accomplishment. If her mouth hadn't been so full, she would have said so.
He felt the cum beginning to bubble up his prick. His hips picked up the rhythm of her bobbing head. The jabs of his hips abruptly became short, sharper, faster as the urgency of his need increased rapidly. He stared down at the top of her head, bobbing rhythmically up and down as she gobbled his prick. "Good cocksucker," he muttered.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Pat's raunchy compliment pleased Maggie. She sucked for all she was worth, wanting to please him, wanting to drink his rich essence. With each forward thrust of her head, she felt the long hairs of his pubes tickling the end of her nose.
He concentrated solely on the fiery sensations that wracked the length of his shaft and seared his brain with their unique brand. She worked steadily at his cock, coaxing the seed from him, pulling it along the length of his tool.
"Now!" he bellowed.
A gush of thick cream burst from the tip of his rod. Streams of gooey jism poured down her rippling throat, filling her gullet rapidly. She gobbled and swallowed, her head moving quickly up and down, her hand working up and down the shaft of his prick. The combination of soft hand and steamy mouth extracted every drop of his cum.
She cooed with pleasure as the rich fluid ran down her throat and into her belly. It had been so long since she'd felt a cock explode in her mouth. Far too damned long! She wondered if he could muster another erection after a little rest.
He clasped his hands tightly over her ears, not to control the movement of her head, but simply to exult in the sensuous contact. He held on and roared with joy as she drained the last dregs of cum from his frantically jerking prick.
The last of his cum slid down her throat. She cast her twinkling eyes up at him and slowly pulled her mouth from his cock. She licked her lips to make sure she got all of his essence, then smacked loudly.
"Damn, I needed that," she said softly. "Thank you."
"Thank you!" he replied.
She stayed on her knees, gazing at his cock, fondling it with both hands. "Do you like the way I suck cock? It's been ages and ages since I had one in my mouth."
"You're fabulous. But it hasn't been so long. You had mine in your mouth earlier today."
She licked his cockhead. "You must have me confused with another woman." She grinned. "Well, I didn't suck you off then, did I?"
"The carpet must be pretty rough on your pretty knees. Don't you want to get up here with me?" He hoped she didn't intend to run away again.
She got to her feet. She put her hands over her head and stretched like a contented pussy cat. Her large, well-formed tits stood out in all their glory. Her small, but luxurious, body looked like a beautifully carved statue.
"Magnificent," he muttered.
She climbed into the bed by him. "I had a very sexy dream the other night. A man was in it. He asked me if anyone had ever fucked my tits. Is that what you were thinking just now when you looked at me?"
Her abrupt use of such earthy language astonished him. Heretofore, she had been so lady-like, almost demure. He realized she was showing him an entirely different facet of her character.
He said, "Truthfully, no. But now that you mention it, it sounds like a fine idea."
He was no more astonished than she was. She felt so comfortable with him. "No one ever has, by the way. You can fuck them if you wish. I'm sure you know how. But only after you fuck my pussy. I have avoided men far too long. Why isn't important now. Maybe I'll tell you some day."
"Do you always make a lot of noise when you cum?" He stroked her hair soothingly, then let his hand trail idly over the alluring curves of her sumptuous body.
She chuckled. "Yeah, I'm a pretty noisy fucker. Especially when someone licks my pussy as well as you do. It doesn't bother you, does it?"
"Oh, no! Some women don't say anything when they cum. They just wiggle a little, then go limp. Others sort of squeak, but not very loud. Now you, you really get into it. You jump and jerk and wiggle and hump and let everyone in earshot know how it feels when you cum. I like that. Remember, I'm the one who made you cum, so it's a boost to my ego when you cum so hard."
"Never thought of it that way. I just do what comes naturally." She paused and grinned. "Cum is one of my favorite words. I make just as much noise when I cum on a cock," she said.
"You aren't worried about the others hearing you?"
She laughed out loud. "I couldn't care less about them! Emma certainly doesn't try to hide what she does. I know that Bradford has fucked her, at least once. I suspect that Tyson Smithfield has also fallen into her clutches. I don't think Tyson came here to talk to Andrea about business."
"Do you think they're lovers?" Pat sighed inwardly with relief. He was afraid she might use the others to curtail their fun and games. He eased his hand between her legs and began to caress her pussy. "Andrea and Tyson, I mean."
"Off and on." She put her leg over his so he could reach her pussy easier. "In all the years that I've known Andrea, she has never had a steady lover. Maybe, like me, she hasn't found the right man." She wiggled her pussy against his finger and sighed. "You know what you're doing, don't you?"
"I know what I want to do."
She slipped her hand between their bodies. His prick was beginning to twitch and swell. "Tell me," she breathed. She began to stroke his shaft, eager to bring it to full erection.
"I want to put you on your hands and knees and watch your big beautiful tits swing and bounce while I mount your luscious ass and fuck you from the rear."
"Not up the ass, okay?" She squeezed his cock. "I don't think I could take something this big on my maiden journey down that road. We might get around to finding out one of these days. If you're interested."
"Is your beautiful pussy covered with lots of hair?" he asked, stating the obvious, obliquely telling her that he was very interested. "Bring it the rest of the way up," he said, waggling his cock in front of her face.
She put her hands on his hips and pulled him over her. She began to stroke his cock with both hands and lick the head. Occasionally, she captured the knob in her mouth and sucked it vigorously. When it reached its full measure, she pushed him back and gazed up at him.
"You like to fuck me in the mouth with your big cock, don't you?"
"You have a wonderful mouth," he replied.
"And what does that make me?" she asked.
He frowned, then understood what she wanted him to say. "That makes you a good cocksucker."
"No, it makes me an excellent cocksucker," she corrected him. "I take pride in everything I do. Hang around for a while and you'll find out. Now, let's put that thing in another hole that needs some attention."
She rolled over onto her stomach and rose to her hands and knees. He got behind her on his knees and caressed her softly rounded buttocks before spreading them apart. He moved up closer and put the head of his cock against her hairy nether lips.
"Look, Ma, no hands," she said with a quiet giggle. "Your cock knows right where it should go"
He gripped her lush hips and hunched. She sighed with delight as the glans slipped into her tight sheath. He punched his prick all the way into her with one quick lunge. Her mouth popped open and her breath hissed out in a gush. She twisted her head around and looked over her shoulder at him.
He leaned over her back and their lips met. Their tongues dueled and probed and searched as he slid his cock slowly in and out of her glorious fuckhole. She pulled her mouth away and began to hump her ass back at him.
He slipped both hands under her and cupped her full, dangling tits, rubbing the stiff nipples in his palms and kneading the heavy globes.
She snickered. "I thought you wanted to watch my tits swing and bounce," she teased.
He moved his hands down to caress her smooth belly and satiny thighs. His hands went into the dense thatch of curls between her thighs and one finger slid into the top of her crack.
Her clitoris throbbed when he touched it. Her body became more tense. She spread her legs a little further apart and pushed her perky rear end up to receive his pulsating shaft. She began to thrust her ass back at his driving dick.
His finger began to move rapidly back and forth over her love stud as his meat slid in and out of her sopping love tunnel. She uttered a strangled cry and arched her back sharply so his prick would penetrate deeper. Her body began to tremble. He began to strum her clit faster as he increased the tempo of his cock fucking into her sucking hole.
Her body began to writhe spasmodically as her orgasm seized her. She moaned, cried out, then began to scream. She drove her ass back at him furiously. Her big tits swayed and jiggled, banged together from the agitation of her bucking body.
"Cum in me!" she squealed.
He couldn't hold back any longer, even if he wanted to. Her tight cunt felt like a vacuum hose sucking at his cock. He slammed into her as hard as he could. The force of his thrust knocked her flat on her stomach. She continued to twist and hump her ass against him.
His cock exploded inside her siphoning channel. Her cunt became a velvet vise around his prick and her ass moved faster. She didn't relax until his cock was empty.
"Don't pull out!" she whispered. "Keep your cock in me and turn onto your side. I want to snuggle with you."
He turned them onto their side with her ass nestled into his crotch. She pulled his arms around her and put his hands on her tits.
"God, it feels good to fuck again," she whispered, so softly he barely heard her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Maggie felt uncomfortable at breakfast. Pat had gone into town early, and she felt all alone, without a friend in the world. like a stranger in a strange place.
The mood in the house hadn't been that great before Duncan's untimely demise. Now the air felt positively oppressive. Tyson complained of a severe headache and insisted on turning off the lights, making the room seem gloomier than ever.
Only Emma seemed chipper. She wore a bright red silk suit and chatted gaily, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
The aggravating ghost of a memory drifted through Maggie's mind and away before she could grasp it. She ate quickly and went for a long walk in the woods. She needed the solitude, without fear of interruption, to do some serious thinking.
She returned to the house shortly before noon, no closer to an answer than she had been earlier.
Tyson Smithfield met her on the terrace and asked, "Have you seen Andrea this morning?"
Maggie shook her head. "No. I went for a walk right after breakfast, and I'm just getting back."
"I wish I could make it easier for her," he said. "But, I'm caught too. There's nothing I can do, really. I mean about the house, of course. Did she tell you?"
"Tell me what? I haven't talked to her since before Duncan was shot."
He thought for a moment, then said, "She wouldn't mind you knowing, I'm sure. It's tragically simple, really, but I can't do anything about it. Bradford borrowed money from me. Lots of money, and spent it like water. Without Andrea's knowledge, he put up the house and grounds as collateral. She knows now, of course. I told her last night. Now, I'm in a pinch in business and have got to foreclose and borrow on it myself. I also loaned Duncan money, and now I have got to raise capital to keep my business going. Do you see?"
Maggie nodded. Two more pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
"I hate it," Tyson said. "But what can I do? And now Duncan's death.. . . " He paused and reached absently for his cigarette case. He extracted a cigarette and the small flame from his lighter suddenly flared clear and bright. He inhaled a mouthful of smoke and said, "It's hell for Andrea, but what can I do? I've got to save my own business."
"I see," Maggie said slowly, staring at his right hand. And, quite suddenly, she did see. As he said, it was quite simple. She kept her voice level and steady as she said, "May I have a cigarette?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, embarrassed by his poor manners. He fumbled for his cigarette case and held the flame of his lighter for her.
Maggie put her hand on his and stared at his right hand again. "Thank you," she said. "I think I'll go up and see Andrea, take her a lunch tray. Maybe I can cheer her up a little."
Andrea felt restless. She hated to stay cooped up in her room, and she wasn't ready yet to face the others.
She thought about sending word to Tyson, asking him to come see her. She rejected the idea after further consideration. For some reason, she no longer trusted him. She couldn't put her finger on the reason, but he seemed different now.
She cursed under her breath. If she couldn't ask a man to soothe her jittery nerves, she would just have to do the job herself. She shed her clothes and got her vibrator. She lay down on the bed and spread her legs wide.
Her pussy was already as hot as a potter's kiln. She teased only a few seconds before driving the vibrator into her yawning cunt. Holding it deep inside her, she started twisting it feverishly. She moaned like a bitch in heat as the curved vibrator rubbed her juicy cunt walls thrillingly.
"Aaahhh, fuck," she whined. "Ooohhh, I'm going to cum already."
With her free hand, she began to squeeze her tit. Her pretty bare frame writhed with wanton surrender, yielding easily to her lascivious thirst.
Maggie knocked lightly on Andrea's door. She waited a couple of moments, then opened the door and walked into the room. Just as Andrea soared to the heights of her orgasm.
She saw Andrea spread-eagle on the bed, fucking herself furiously with the vibrator. She took two more steps before the salacious scene registered. She nearly dropped the tray. Her feet felt rooted to the floor. She stared with her mouth agape.
Andrea dimly wondered if she could withdraw the vibrator and prolong her orgasm. She wanted to let her pleasure build to an even higher peak. But it was too late for that.
Lust and craving held the hedonistic redhead in a powerful grip. She was already cumming, for better or for worse. Not even an earthquake could make her stop twisting the vibrator in her burning, squishy cunt. She couldn't stop the lusty moans that poured from her open mouth. She couldn't stop writhing around on the bed and squeezing her tits as her pleasure grew swiftly.
Maggie set the tray down and brushed her hand across her eyes as though to clear her vision.
Andrea came fiercely, nearly went berserk. Glorious contractions thundered through her heaving body. Her ass bounced up and down on the bed. She pumped and twisted the plastic tool in and out of her erupting cunt.
"Aaahhh, yessssss!" she wailed.
Maggie stared in disbelief at the incredible lewdness of her naked friend fucking herself furiously with the vibrator. She gasped out loud just as Andrea's orgasm abated and she regained some measure of control over her frazzled faculties.
Andrea heard the sound and pushed herself onto her elbows, leaving the vibrator stuck up her gaping, abused cunt.
"Andrea!" Maggie gasped.
"Maggie!" Andrea wheezed.
Andrea smiled, a flirtatious sparkle in her eyes. Maggie gawked at her girlfriend. Andrea's thighs gapped wide open. Juice oozed out of her cunt around the vibrator. She made no effort to cover herself or remove the tool.
"Oooooo, nothing like a good climax to relieve the tension," Andrea purred. Her hips squirmed, just once, with obscene satisfaction.
"Andrea!" Maggie rasped.
"What's the matter, darling?" Andrea asked. "Didn't you know that I like to get off? I'm really a normal woman, you know, in spite of what you think. When I get horny and a hard cock isn't available, I have to take things into my own hands. Don't you ever get yourself off?"
"Andrea!" Maggie gasped again.
"Why are you so shocked, darling? That I was audacious enough to leave my door unlocked while I fucked myself with a vibrator? Or that I have the chutzpah to act so shameless after I did it?"
Andrea didn't know why she acted so brazen. Every woman she knew would grab something to cover themselves and hastily apologize. Or at least try to offer some lame explanation for their lewd actions. She had no intention of doing anything of the sort. Behaving so scandalously, so whorish in front of Maggie thrilled her. A lecherous idea began to form in her mind.
"Andrea! I've never heard you talk that way!" Maggie whispered, wide-eyed. "And I never dreamed that you would.. .that you would do what I just saw you doing!"
"Why not, darling?" Andrea asked with artificial sweetness. "I have a pussy. I get horny. I jack off. What's so odd about that?"
Andrea pulled the vibrator out of her dripping pussy and hopped off the bed. In three strides, she stood beside Maggie. She put an arm around her girlfriend and held the juice-covered vibrator up.
"Do you mean that you find it strange that I would fuck myself after the tragedy of Duncan's death? I didn't kill him, you know. Nervous tension had me about ready to climb the walls. I had to do something."
"I understand," Maggie said quietly. "I guess I just didn't expect you to.. . I don't know what I expected."
"Tyson fucked me the night before that horrible mess with Duncan. I thought about asking him to fuck me again now, but, suddenly, I don't trust him. Enough talk about such unpleasant business for a while." She waggled the vibrator right under Maggie's nose. "Here, darling, why don't you try it? Let me watch you fuck yourself."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Andrea!" Maggie gasped. "This has to be some sort of bizarre joke."
Andrea almost said that, yes, of course, she was joking. But she didn't. Her cunt felt like a bubbling cauldron. Standing with one side of her lusty naked body touching her girlfriend didn't help. She tightened her arm and pulled Maggie closer.
Maggie felt the heat and softness of Andrea's bare tit. The strong surge of lust she felt surprised her. She had never considered making it with another woman. Except in her wild dreams.
"No, I'm not joking, dear," Andrea said softly. "I really do think you should fuck yourself with my vibrator and let me watch. Or, better yet, get naked and lie down on the bed and let me do it."
Maggie tensed and gasped again. Andrea tossed the vibrator on the bed and moved in front of her lovely girlfriend. She put both arms around Maggie and pressed their bodies together.
Gently, in slow motion, Andrea unbuttoned Maggie's blouse and exposed her elegant tits. Maggie's nipples were already hard-large and pointy.
"Andrea," Maggie breathed faintly and shivered. Instead of pulling away, she leaned forward slightly, as if begging for firmer fleshy contact.
Andrea held the brunette tightly and looked hotly into her eyes. They stood stomach to stomach with their tender tits crushed together. Abruptly, Andrea pressed her lips to Maggie's and thrust her tongue deep into her girlfriend's gaping mouth.
"Ooooooooo," Maggie moaned as she impetuously threw her arms around Andrea's bare body.
The move surprised Andrea. She expected Maggie to resist. When Maggie began to suck her invading tongue, her amazement increased tenfold. Initially, she bantered to cover her confusion at being caught in the act by her girlfriend. Her jest quickly turned into something very serious, very lascivious.
"Oh, Andrea," Maggie husked. "This is so wrong."
"Says who?" Andrea whispered. "I don't want to stop now."
"Neither do I!" Maggie said passionately. "Have you done it with a lot of women?" she suddenly demanded with horny interest.
Andrea moaned with pleasure when she felt Maggie's nipple swell even more in sudden response to the carnal contact. Her own nipples were also stiff and full, pushing arrogantly into the tender flesh of the brunette's firm mounds. She kept her arms around Maggie, continued to kiss her, and started moving backward, toward the bed.
Maggie realized where Andrea was taking her. She moaned, not in protest, but in avaricious anticipation. She planted a wet, passionate kiss on the redhead's lips.
"A few," Andrea breathed, brushing her lips lightly against Maggie's. "I'm very finicky about whose pussy I lick."
"Ooohhh, knowing that excites the hell out of me!" Maggie burbled.
"Have you ever done it with a woman?" Andrea asked.
"Only in my dreams," Maggie whispered nervously, her voice soft, tinged with a trace of regret.
"Ummmmmm, knowing that excites the hell out of me! To think that I will be your first blows my mind."
Andrea hooked her fingers in the waistband of Maggie's tight pants. Maggie tangled her fingers in her girlfriend's long red hair, wriggled and squirmed in an ambiguous effort to help Andrea. She kicked off her sandals, breathing heavily, shivering with expectation.
Maggie wore no panties. She hooked her big toe in her pants and pulled them over her feet. She kicked them aside and automatically spread her legs. Her breathing became profound when Andrea's right hand slipped between her trembling thighs.
They fell onto the bed with Andrea on top. She kissed Maggie again and again, using her tongue to explore the inside of the brunette's sweet mouth. Her hand roamed over Maggie's furry triangle.
Maggie's moist cunt lips were already beginning to open. Andrea's fingers flitted over the puffy folds of flesh as she plunged her tongue down Maggie's throat. Maggie's clit had swollen into lofty prominence. Andrea began to rub the bloated bud slowly. It promptly became fully engorged as she fiddled with it.
"Magnificent clit," Andrea breathed.
Maggie moaned louder. Andrea knew the sounds were not in protest. Pulling her head back a few inches, she gazed hotly into the girl's eyes. "Still think it's wrong?" she whispered, a hint of a chuckle in her voice.
"Yes," Maggie breathed. "I know it's wrong."
"But you don't want me to stop, do you?" Andrea asked, her voice husky with lecherous titillation. All of her fingers were in play, exploring, rubbing Maggie's clit and pussy lips.
"No," Maggie answered in a choked voice. She squirmed more enthusiastically. "I don't want you to stop. Oooohhh, God help me, I don't want you to stop!"
Again, Andrea kissed her girlfriend passionately, her tongue flashing and plunging. She cascaded kisses on the brunette's cheeks, neck, upper chest, and between her heaving tits. She licked and kissed every sensuous inch of the bountiful tit flesh.
Maggie mewled with sensual longing and clutched her girlfriend's head. When Andrea tenderly nipped her thick nipples, she squealed boisterously. The redhead's sharp little teeth on her fully distended nipples made passion zip through her with the speed of lightning.
"Mmmmm, your tits are glorious, baby," Andrea breathed.
"My nipples are very sensitive," Maggie whispered.
Andrea slipped two fingers into Maggie's gooey grotto and began to wiggle and thrust with languid movements.
"So is my pussy!" Maggie gasped.
Andrea began to lavish kisses on the brunette's belly, slowly heading south.
Maggie sensed where the redhead's mouth was headed. Unconsciously, she spread her legs wider, opened them so far that her hip joints ached. "Ooohhh, Angela, are you going to eat my pussy?" she groaned.
Andrea chortled softly. She removed her fingers from Maggie's cunt and kissed her way through the dark brown hair covering her pussy mound. Her tongue abruptly leaped to the bottom of the hairy slit. Flattening her tongue, she dragged it slowly all the way from the bottom to the top of the sticky slit.
"Aaaahhh, yessss!" Maggie wailed, writhing with bliss. "Ooohhhh, yessss! Lick my pussy, Andrea! Lick it good!"
Maggie clutched her girlfriend's head more tightly and whimpered as Andrea's tongue repeatedly worried her erect, quivering love stud with her tongue.
Nearly beside herself with eroticism, Andrea licked and smacked her lips. Maggie's cunt inflamed her senses, goaded her to give the brunette a shattering orgasm with her tongue and mouth.
Maggie whimpered and wriggled as the redhead's tongue whipped back and forth across her supersensitive, swollen clit. Getting licked by another woman generated an incomparable stimulation.
Love juice oozed from Maggie's pussy, coated the bloated lips and dribbled between the cheeks of her ass. Andrea's tongue raced around, lapping up the juice, then returned to the brunette's clit. She frigged Maggie's love stud furiously with a broad, flat tongue.
"Aaaahhh, ooooo," Maggie moaned. "Your tongue is really getting me, Andrea! Ooohhh, it's so good! So fucking good!"
Andrea lifted her head and peered between Maggie's big tits at her girlfriend's lust-contorted face. "Are you going to cum for me, baby? Will you cum on my tongue?"
"Oh, God, yes! Yesssss! Ooohhh, Andrea, I love to cum!"
"I know, darling," Andrea cooed, licking her lips, savoring the flavor of the brunette's delectable cunt. "You're just like me-a little bitch in heat-hot and horny and so randy. You don't care who does you as long as you get off."
"I just like to cum," Maggie said, taking Andrea's words as criticism of her licentious nature.
"I'm not criticizing you, darling," Andrea said hastily. "I should have done this to you years ago."
"Will you put your fingers back in my cunt while you lick my clit?" Maggie asked. "Please?"
Andrea laughed out loud. She looked down, watched as she stuck two fingers in the woman's syrupy love box and sank them to the edge of her hand. Then she lowered her head and assaulted Maggie's clit with her tongue.
Maggie shuddered wantonly. She started squeezing her own big tits madly, pinching the nipples, pulling them out to their maximum length.
Andrea pressed her lips tightly to Maggie's pussy. Her tongue slapped and licked the brunette's cunt lips and clit. Her own lust grew so fast that she couldn't contain it. As she ate Maggie's pussy, she groped around on the bed and found the vibrator. She pushed the tool up her own yearning cunt and began to pump the solid plastic in and out vigorously. Her tongue attacked Maggie's clit and pussy lips with more enthusiasm. She twisted the vibrator around and around and drilled it deeply into her sex sheath.
Andrea began to lick Maggie's bloated clit with more vigor. Maggie's squirming got wilder. Her hips started bucking. She rubbed her tits insanely.
"Aaaaa, aaaahhhh, I'm cumming!" Maggie shrieked.
"Oooohhhh, fuck, another woman is making me cum! Ooohhhh, fuck me with your tongue, Andrea!"
Andrea avidly lapped up the rivers of the brunette's flowing fuck juice. She clung to one of Maggie's thighs with her free hand as she bucked and writhed with wanton abandon. Maggie twisted and stretched her large tits every which way.
Getting her horny girlfriend off thrilled Andrea. She rammed the thick vibrator into her own scorching cunt as hard as she could. She wanted to get herself off before Maggie's orgasm ended. She continued to batter the brunette's clit with her tongue to keep her cumming.
Maggie's orgasm slacked off. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and focused her eyes. Andrea's tongue continued to lash her clit, but only faint tingles of pleasure flowed through her now. She saw what Andrea was doing with the vibrator.
"Let me help you," Maggie whispered. "Please, darling, let me get you off."
Andrea lifted her head and said, "How can I refuse such a charming offer?"
Still ramming the vibrator up her juicy cunt, Andrea awkwardly twisted around and got over her girlfriend in a sixty-nine. She yanked the vibrator out of her cunt and tossed it aside. Lowering her head, she began to lick Maggie's turgid clitoris again.
Moaning with delight, Maggie pulled Andrea's ass down. Her tongue shot out and repeatedly licked Andrea's puffy, drizzling cunt. Her first direct taste of pussy shocked her senses and made her hornier than ever. Using only her well-conditioned cunt muscles, Andrea made her pussy gape wide. Maggie stuck her tongue all the way into the redhead's succulent cunt.
Andrea clamped her cunt shut like a vise, trapping the woman's hot tongue. Maggie grunted in surprise. Andrea released her grip and let her pussy lips fall open again. Maggie pulled her tongue out and giggled.
"Oooohhh, Andrea, that was fabulous! How did you do that?"
"I do exercises to keep my cunt in shape. I can grab a cock the same way."
"Will you teach me how to do it?" Maggie asked eagerly.
"I would love to, darling. But you'll have to stay around for a while," Andrea replied.
"I think that can be arranged," Maggie said happily.
Maggie put her hands in Andrea's crotch, with her fingers on each side of the red-haired slit. Andrea relaxed her cunt muscles and Maggie pulled the pussy lips wide-open. She stuck her tongue back into Andrea's cunt as far as it would go and began to work it around.
She wriggled her tongue frenziedly from side to side and up and down the redhead's fiery box.
"My clit, baby, my clit!" Andrea moaned. "Get my clit. Make me cum!"
Andrea seized Maggie's clit between her lips. She began to suck hard and flick her tongue rapidly over the thick love bud. Andrea rubbed the brunette's engorged clit between her thumbs and wriggled her tongue around wildly in her sultry pussy.
Maggie squirmed with ecstasy as the exquisite sensations pounded at her. Her squirming made her belly rub against Andrea's tits while her own tits rubbed against the redhead's belly.
"Oooooh, yes, baby, you're making my pussy feel so good," Andrea cried happily. "Making me feel so good all over! Oh, darling, I love how you make me feel."
Andrea's cunt spasmed wonderfully on her girlfriend's wiggling tongue. Juice flooded her channel and ran into Maggie's mouth. Maggie's tongue darted in and out of the redhead's boiling cunt, lapping up the juice. She swallowed the ambrosial liquid gustily, noisily, afraid she would miss some of the delectable essence.
"Oooohhhh, your juice is delicious, darling!" Maggie moaned. "God, I could drink it all day."
"I want to drink some more of your delicious juice too, darling," Andrea breathed. "If you stay with me for a while, we can drink each other's pussy juice any time we want, darling!"
"Oh, yes!" Maggie groaned.
She drove her tireless tongue back into Andrea's succulent cunt and swirled it around and around while stabbing it in and out of the humid hole. The redhead's humping, squirming ass told Maggie that Andrea was close to cumming. She changed tactics and began to lash her clit. She pushed three fingers into Andrea's cunt. She spread her fingers, stretching Andrea's pussy walls delightfully, then closed her fingers and let the cunt close tightly around them.
"Yes, baby, yesss," Andrea whimpered.
Both women teetered on the brink of orgasm, balanced on the razor-thin edge separating pleasure from paradise. They stopped talking and got serious about reaching nirvana.
Long tongues flashed, lips puffy with passion sucked, probing fingers fucked into channels saturated with slick juice. Two voluptuous bodies writhed against each other, two shapely asses humped, two hot pussies contracted in a regular, almost synchronous rhythm.
Lost in the flurry of passionate lesbian loving, they didn't know who came first. Not that it mattered to either of them. One started cumming, snuffling and groaning in the foamy pussy in their mouth. The other one followed a split second later.
They rolled around on the bed, first one, and then the other, on top. They writhed so hard they almost fell off. The mind-boggling sensations reached their familiar peak, went higher yet.
Suddenly, they rolled apart, their nerves screaming, refusing to accept any more of the compelling pleasure that came close to being punishment. Maggie turned around, gathered Andrea into her arms and held her tight, tits mashing tits. Several minutes passed before their shivers stopped.
"My God," Andrea gasped. "I have never cum like that."
"Not bad for my first time at licking pussy, huh?"
"Outstanding, darling," Andrea replied. "I sure couldn't tell it was your first time."
"Women should know how to lick clit, shouldn't they? Getting it on with you really turned me on."
"Do you like to fuck?" Andrea asked.
"Oh, I love it! I like to suck cock, too. I really like it when a guy cums in my mouth. I remember the first time I sucked a guy. I went too far and sucked him off. Then I had to suck it up again." Maggie giggled, remembering how much fun she had.
"A guy is so helpless when a woman has his cock in her mouth. You have all the control then. The man just lies there, almost totally helpless. You can make him wait to cum, tease him and make him beg you to finish him. When you fuck, whether you're on top or bottom, you don't have that power. It's your show when you suck him."
"Talking like this turns me on," Andrea said. "Now that we've gone this far, would you like me to show you how to do the wicky-wacky, squiggle-wiggle?"
"The what?"
Andrea giggled and crawled off the bed. "Don't go away. I'll be right back."
"Don't worry, baby," Maggie assured her. "I wouldn't leave right now for all the tea in China!"
Andrea went to her dresser. She found what she wanted and returned to the bed.
Maggie stared with big eyes at the object Andrea held in her hand. "What in the world is that?"
Andrea stretched the object between her hands and chuckled sexily. "This, darling, is what we use to do the wicky-wacky, squiggle-wiggle."
"Looks like a big rubber cock with two heads to me," Maggie said, puzzled.
"Exactly," Andrea replied. "One head for each of us. A hell of a lot better than a vibrator, don't you think?"
"I've heard about dildos, but I've never seen one."
Andrea tossed the double-dong onto the bed. "Take a good look. In a few minutes, you'll do more than look at it."
Maggie picked up the rubber cock and turned it every which way. "Damn, I never expected to be taking lessons in fucking from another woman," she said with a chuckle, somewhat embarrassed by the idea.
"Lesbian fucking, darling," Andrea admonished. "Call it what it is. Want to stop?"
"God, no!"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Good," Andrea said. "Now, I'll get this slicked up and we'll have some more fun." She took a tube from the drawer of the night table and began to lubricate the dildo.
Maggie looked at the tube and arched one eyebrow. "Anal lube? Who gives it to you up the ass?"
"A girl can dream, can't she?" Andrea laughed.
Maggie grinned. "Yeah. Sometimes dreams even come true."
"Now, what we do here is rub our pussies together after we stick this handy little helper up our cunts," Andrea said. "Simply rubbing pussies is fun, but it's more fun when we have our cunts full. Either way, we get our sex guns off."
"Mine's reloaded and ready to fire, darling."
"How much of this can you take?"
Maggie giggled lewdly. "The way I feel right now, all of it."
"No way," Andrea said, also laughing. "I want my share. Now, just lie back and relax."
"Don't want to lie back," Maggie said. "I want to sit up so I can watch you put it in."
"Have it your way. As the dentist says, open wide and say aaahhh."
Maggie opened her lovely legs wide and tilted her fur-covered box up. No need for shyness now. Andrea's mouth and tongue had already visited her cunt, with deeply satisfying results.
Andrea climbed onto the bed, between Maggie's splayed legs. "You have such a lovely cunt," she said.
"Nothing wrong with yours, darling," Maggie assured her. "It's just as pretty as mine and tastes wonderful."
Maggie watched in fascination as Andrea inserted one end of the dildo into her gaping gash. The horny redhead pushed half of the fake cock into her cunt with ease.
"Bend you knees and pull your feet back, dear."
Andrea sat in front of her girlfriend and spread the lips of her own twat with the other end of the dildo. She slowly absorbed the remainder of the rubber cock as Maggie watched through slitted, passion-glazed eyes.
"Lean back like this and we'll play a little before we do the wicky-wacky, squiggle-wiggle."
Andrea leaned back on her hands and Maggie emulated her. Instinctively, Maggie knew what to do. She planted her feet on the bed and began to hump. Andrea smiled and watched Maggie's face as she too began to hump. Maggie looked down, watching the fake cock sliding in and out their pussies.
"Feels good, darling," Andrea whispered. "I like to have my pussy stuffed so full."
They played for a few minutes, neither desiring an orgasm yet. The sight of the dildo sliding in and out of their cunts entranced Maggie.
After a few minutes, Andrea said, "Show time, baby!"
Andrea rolled forward and rose to her knees, keeping the rubber prick lodged in their pussies. She settled between her girlfriend's shapely thighs and pressed the lips of their pussies tightly together. She wiggled around and grinned at Maggie.
"Oh, yeah," Maggie bubbled. "Our cunts rubbing together feels so good. I can feel your clit mashing mine. Come on, baby, show me how to do the wicky-wacky, squiggle-wiggle!"
Andrea smiled angelically. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine that she would get to fuck Maggie. She started the classic fucking motion, moving up and down to get the most out of the dildo stuffing their cunts. Pressing her cunt lips tightly to Maggie's, she began to rub back and forth to get the most pleasure from the cunt to cunt contact.
Maggie wrapped her sexy gams around her girlfriend's waist. She quickly discovered that the key to lesbian fucking with a double dildo was getting her clit against her lover's. The thick rubber cock stuffing her steamy cunt added to the rapture she felt.
Even when she fucked a man with an oversized cock, her clit didn't get much attention. Fortunately, she could cum in her cunt and her clit. Lesbian fucking gave her the best of both worlds!
"Fuck me, darling, fuck me, fuck me," she crooned as she threw her cunt up to meet Andrea's downward thrusts.
Andrea drove her cunt against Maggie's again and again. She thrust just like a man, and Maggie rewarded her with deep gasps. Balancing on her knees, she put both hands under Maggie's ass, lifted it off the bed and angled her fuck channel up for better penetration.
"Are you getting close, darling?" Andrea panted. "Want to cum?"
"Yes, baby, yes!" Maggie gasped. "I'm getting there in a hurry!"
"Good. Let it go," Andrea cooed. I'm almost there, too. I can feel the cock push against the mouth of my womb when it hits the bottom of your cunt. Let's cum together."
"Roll over!" Maggie hissed. "I want to get on top and fuck you."
Andrea gladly complied, pleased that her girlfriend was really into the spirit of woman to woman fucking. Maggie straddled Andrea and began to fuck the redhead, grinding her cunt against Andrea's feverish snatch with gusto.
Fucking another woman for the first time thrilled Maggie. The thought drove her to an even greater frenzy. She began to fuck faster and faster, harder and harder, driving the double dildo into herself and Andrea. She wondered why she and Andrea hadn't fucked each other years ago. They had certainly missed out on a lot of fun!
In a blinding, mind-searing flash, Maggie's climax hit like a thunderbolt, shattering her senses. "Ooohhh, fuck, it's wonderful, darling, wonderful!" she screamed. "I love it! Love to fuck! I don't want to stop cumming. Not ever! Love to fuck, darling! Love to cum! Cum with me, darling!"
"Don't stop fucking, baby!" Andrea panted, trying desperately to suck in enough air to keep from passing out. "I'm cumming too! Make me cum hard!" Her breath hissed in and out of her open mouth as she drove her sizzling snatch against Maggie's.
Maggie's strong thighs worked like powerful pistons, driving forward and back with increasing erotic energy. Andrea's ass heaved from the impact when their cunts slammed together. They had the rhythm just right. Both asses drew back simultaneously, then slammed together, getting maximum penetration of the dildo and the most enjoyment from the clit to clit contact.
They rolled over again, putting Andrea back on top, and fucked for a few more minutes. Gradually, their ardor cooled. They stopped fucking and flopped apart. Maggie curled up against her girlfriend's warm, soft body.
"I had no idea fucking another woman could be so much fun," Maggie said softly. "I came up here to have lunch with you and talk. I didn't expect to eat pussy."
"Never know what's on the menu around here," Andrea teased. "What did you want to talk to me about?"
"I know it's painful for you, but I have to clear up a few things. I know you didn't kill Duncan. If you can tell me about the relationship between the others, I think I can prove who did."
"Fire away," Andrea said. "I'll tell you whatever I can."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Late that afternoon, Pat Riley came back from town and went straight to Maggie's cottage.
He looked rather glum, and Maggie knew he expected her to fail in her quest.
"Well, have you figured out who did the dirty deed?" he asked kindly.
"Indeed, I have," Maggie replied blithely.
Pat sat down and regarded her somberly. "Oh, really?"
"Yes," she said simply. "I know who. I don't know why. Yet."
Pat reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and dabbed it lightly to his forehead. "Suppose, you tell me all about it," he said, his manner hushed.
"I sent for Bradford. I think he has the answers I need to wrap it up. Actually, it's quite simple. I knew that Andrea didn't do it. She still loved Duncan. Which doesn't mean much, I guess. Lovers kill each other all the time. More importantly, she's inherently incapable of killing anyone, and she had no motive. Emma didn't do it. She's a coward. And she has an alibi."
"How so?"
"She really was in the woods for a long time that morning. Waiting for Bradford, I think, who slept late. She came here that afternoon, simply chewed up by chiggers."
"Maybe she was there the day before?"
"No, the itching would have stopped by the time she came to me for help. She didn't go into the woods that afternoon because she was in the house with the rest of us. Trying to wear out the floor with her pacing.
"That leaves Bradford and Tyson Smithfield. And Andrea. You still haven't solved the problem of her ring."
"Yes, I have," Maggie said.
She felt a momentary flash of regret. Her evidence, her words, would send a fellow creature down that long and ignominious road that always ends so tragically.
Pat sensed her feeling. "You can't help the poor wretch now," he said. "Remember the old saying: If you can't do the time, don't do the crime."
"Oh, I know," Maggie said sadly. She looked at her right hand-the hand that held the pen. "Still, writing about murder isn't the same as facing it in real life, is it?" She lifted her head when the knock came on the door and said, "Come in."
Bradford entered and looked uncertainly at her and the reporter. "You wanted to see me, Maggie?" he said.
"It came up in conversations I've had in the past couple of days. I know you used the house as collateral for the note you gave Tyson. What was your collateral for Duncan's note?"
"The house," Bradford said sheepishly.
"I see," Maggie said slowly. "Whose note was dated first?"
He stared at her defiantly. "Duncan's. I had some bad debts-gambling markers. I had to have cash in a hurry so they wouldn't break my knees."
"And Tyson's note?"
"Commodities trading. I sold some cattle futures short, and they went up. I couldn't cover the margin call.
Maggie felt curiously cold. Andrea's brother had betrayed her. "So, Duncan and Tyson thought they owned the house? When actually, neither of them did."
"Well, yes.. .if you want to put it that way."
Pat rose and began to pace silently. The extent of Maggie's digging surprised him.
"And neither knew that you don't own the collateral. Andrea merely lets you live here out of the goodness of her heart. And you betrayed her trust. Emma probably knows about Duncan's dealings with you. She probably thinks she will inherit the estate now."
"I don't know," Bradford replied. "I never thought of that."
Pat started to speak, and Maggie silenced him. "No, he really didn't think of it," she said wearily. "He didn't kill Duncan. If he had, he would also have had to kill Tyson. Tyson also owed Duncan money. I'm guessing now, but I think Tyson was manipulating the commodities futures trading. He assigned losses to Bradford and Duncan, and pocketed the profits. Bradford was a babe in the woods. He didn't know that he was being swindled.
"Duncan knew. He came here to have it out with Tyson. Tyson didn't have the money to repay Duncan for his losses, and couldn't let him go to the authorities. Ergo, Tyson had no choice but to kill Duncan. Bradford probably let slip that he had also used the estate as collateral on a note to Duncan. By killing Duncan, he killed two birds with one stone, so to speak."
"What about all the records of trades?" Pat asked. "Surely Tyson knew they would be found after Duncan's death and convict him of fraud."
"Duncan told me that he was going to get Tyson, and had all the proof he needed in his briefcase," Bradford said. "I thought he was just blowing smoke. He and Tyson have never liked each other. Duncan thought Tyson and Andrea were lovers, and he hated the idea."
"Tyson took charge after I 'discovered' Duncan's body," Maggie said. "He was upstairs, downstairs, and all around the house. He probably simply took Duncan's briefcase and hid it. The sheriff's men didn't find it." She turned a level gaze on Bradford. "Unless you did it for him, Bradford. Did he offer you a deal? You hide the evidence, and he would lend you more money?"
The color rose in Bradford's face. "No! I didn't know anything about his affairs with Duncan."
Maggie frowned. "I wonder how Tyson knew what to look for."
"If Duncan came here to have it out with Tyson, he probably threatened Tyson. He would have to at least allude to the evidence to make his threat credible. His briefcase was the obvious place to look."
"Maybe I told him," Bradford said reluctantly. "Duncan told me that he had my note in his briefcase and I told Tyson."
"If Duncan or Tyson tried to record those notes, they would have known that Bradford didn't own the collateral," Pat mused.
"I asked them to keep it quiet," Bradford said, flushing. "I was going to convince Andrea to put my name on the deed."
Maggie looked at Bradford's miserable young face. "I wonder how Tyson expected to silence you."
Pat said, "Since we're making a lot of suppositions, let's suppose that Tyson knew that Bradford's name wasn't on the deed. Tyson and Andrea were close. Perhaps she said something that alerted him. In that case, he had all he needed to guarantee Bradford's silence."
"Of course," Maggie agreed. "Bradford was guilty of fraud. In this case, probably a federal case, since it involved commodities trading."
"Well, I've learned my lesson," Bradford said dully.
"The authorities will decide that," Maggie said.
"If Tyson destroyed the evidence, how are you going to prove all this?" Bradford asked.
"By your testimony," said Maggie. "And the ring."
"Ring?" Bradford said. Pat stopped pacing and perked up his ears. "So, we're back to Andrea? She's in this after all, isn't she?"
"No!" Maggie said quickly. "Duncan was reading the newspaper when Tyson shot him. The drapes were closed, so the lamp by his chair had to be on. It wasn't burning when I entered the library. Tyson had to turn it off. And, ever since then, he has been very careful to avoid artificial light."
"What are you talking about?" Bradford said. "You aren't making sense."
"I'm making perfect sense," Maggie said. "Tyson wasn't wearing the ring the night he arrived. Maybe he thought the red color would clash with his green tie. He made a point of showing George the ring after we found Duncan, and asking if it was the ring that George saw. Of course George said no. The ring he saw was red, and the ring Tyson showed him was green. Tyson made the mistake of lighting a cigarette for me this morning, and suddenly everything fell into place."
"Stop talking in riddles, for God's sake!" Bradford exploded. "First, you say that Tyson's ring is green, then you say it's red. It's an emerald, and emeralds are green."
"It isn't an emerald," Maggie said firmly. "It's an alexandrite."
"What the hell is an alexandrite?" Bradford said impatiently.
"A variety of chrysoberyl," Maggie said. "Named after Alexander II, Czar of Russia. "Emerald-green by daylight, and deep red by artificial light."
"Well, I'll be damned," Pat muttered. "George saw a ruby, and we saw an emerald. When George misidentified the color of the wisteria, it didn't mean a thing."
"Exactly," Maggie said. "Something kept nibbling at my brain, but I couldn't pin it down until Tyson lit my cigarette and I saw the stone change color in the flame of his lighter. I've read about such a stone, but I've never seen one. They're quite rare, and very expensive."
"I'll say," Pat agreed. "Tyson's just might cost him his life. At the very least, he's going to be in prison for a long, long time."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
After the sheriff left with Tyson Smithfield in handcuffs, Pat looked at Maggie and said, "Let's celebrate. Lots of bubbly and half a cow sounds about right to me. What do you say?"
"Give me half an hour," Maggie replied happily.
She bathed and looked at herself in the mirror. For a change, she liked her reflection. She felt better than she had in years.
Pat took her to the only steakhouse in the small town. He ordered a couple of potent drinks to spark their appetite, and champagne with dinner.
He lifted his glass in salute and said, "To the super sleuth. Frankly, I thought Andrea did it, and you were just wasting your time."
"I know what you thought," she replied. "I started out thinking with my heart. Then I got my act together and started to think with my head."
Their dinner arrived, thick slabs of excellent beef grilled to perfection and a bottle of decent champagne. The smell of the food reminded Maggie that she ate Andrea's pussy for lunch. She dug into the meat with gusto.
"How's Andrea holding up?" Pat asked.
At the mention of her girlfriend, Maggie blushed slightly. "As well as can be expected," she replied. "I think she took Bradford's betrayal worse than Duncan's death. I'm going to stay with her until she feels better. I can write here as well as I can at home. In fact, I think I'll put the script I was working on aside and write a story based on this murder."
"Good idea. Add some sex to it, and it should sell quite well."
Maggie tossed her head and laughed. "Exactly what I was thinking. I have some good material to work with, don't you think?"
"Maybe we can arrange to give you some more. Wonder what Emma is going to do now."
"What Emma has always done. She'll use her pussy to cast a spell over some rich guy. She is a predator, with no other talent but sex. She isn't very bright, but she does know how to keep a man sexually satisfied. Her kind sails through life without a worry or a backward glance. Bradford won't be so lucky."
"Don't feel sorry for him," Pat said. "He's bright enough to know better. He let greed get a death grip on him."
"Literally," Maggie said. She crossed her knife and fork on her plate. "Good meal. Thank you."
"Thank you for your pleasant company. I've always heard that the direct approach works best," he said with a grin.
"Try it," Maggie replied.
"There's a nice little motel a couple of blocks from here. I still have a room there."
Maggie shook her head gently. "No. Let's go back to the cottage. I feel more comfortable there. You can light the fire in the fireplace while I do what ladies do before they.. . . "
Pat grinned and took her arm.
Maggie went into the bedroom and removed her dress. Pat stood, and turned around when she came back into the small living room.
Grinning mischievously, she spread her legs slightly and teased the long thicket of hair along her slit between two fingers, coaxing it into greater fullness. Then she wet the tip of one index finger and rubbed her nipples until the large buds expanded and stood up proudly.
His eyes widened. Her bright red cut-out bra, red crotchless panties and red sandals warmed the cockles of his heart. And made his cock tingle.
"Wow!" he whispered.
He looked long and hard at the thatch of thick brown hair showing through the slit in her panties. His eyes wandered slowly up her body, admiring the breathtaking sight. They settled on her dark areolae and long, thick nipples protruding through the cut-outs in the center of her bra. He stepped closer and ran his fuck finger through her slit. With the tip of his finger hovering lightly on her clit, he kissed each of her nipples, felt them swell.
She unzipped his pants and dug out his cock. She stroked it slowly and tilted her head for another kiss. They kissed passionately as she gently jerked his cock and he tenderly toyed with her clit. She broke the kiss and took a step back, breathing hard, a sparkle of carnal joy lighting up her eyes.
Slowly, lovingly, she jacked his prick, using both hands, one above the other. She held his prick erect with her left hand. She made a ring with the thumb and forefinger of her right hand and slipped the ring over his bare knob. She twisted her hand with an exaggerated movement as she slide it up and down on the crown of his cock. She glanced at him covertly from the corner of her eye to confirm his pleasure.
"Splendid cock," she whispered. "I can feel your pulse throbbing in it. It feels like bone. Or gristle, at least. Hard to believe it gets so hard from just filling with blood.
He humped his ass gently, shoving his prick through her hand. "You are just full of surprises tonight."
"You ain't seen nothing yet!" She giggled like a schoolgirl.
He didn't giggle. He moaned. Her fingers around the second most sensitive spot on his body nearly drove him to distraction. She alternated between tightening and loosening the ring of her fingers as she stimulated the head of his cock and felt him tremble.
Pat grunted. Yearning radiated from the head of his cock, flooded his entire body. He didn't know what she had in mind. Obviously, she wanted him to fuck her. If not, she wouldn't wear such a captivating outfit and act so seductive. Pronto, he hoped. He knew that he couldn't hold it back much longer.
She wrapped her whole hand around his cockhead and made a loose fist. Her left hand slid down to cup his balls. She rolled the delicate spheres gently, knowing that she held the most sensitive part of his body. She knew that, if she wished, she could reduce him to a babbling idiot simply by squeezing hard. For a few moments, she rotated and pumped her hand on just the bare knob.
"God, baby!" he moaned. "That feels good!"
"Thought you might like it," she whispered in reply.
"I love it!" he exclaimed, half under his breath as rapture threatened to take away his voice.
"Want me to jack you off and relieve the pressure?" she asked quietly, staring at his stiff rod.
"What do you have in mind for later?"
"Oh, a little of this and a little of that," she said ambiguously.
"You appear to have everything well in hand."
"What I have in hand is one great hunk of meat," she said with a giggle. "It fits my pussy perfectly and feels just fabulous in my hand."
"Your mouth isn't half-bad, either," he muttered, remembering the way she sucked his cock the night before.
She stared at her hand sliding around on his cock. She stuck out the middle finger of her left hand and tickled the nerve bundle between his balls and his asshole. Her right hand began to move faster, going up and down the full length of his pulsating shaft.
"You can cum any time, baby," she murmured softly. "I want to watch your juice spurt out of your cock."
He welcomed her approval, but he didn't need it. He was beyond the point where he could shut off his orgasm, no matter what she said. Even if she removed her hand, he would still cum.
He grunted, a raucous sound that started in the bottom of his stomach and poured from his mouth. An instant later, jizz began to spritz from his cock. His grunts became loud moans, almost yells of joy. She held her left hand to catch his cum and continued to pump his prick steadily.
"Ooohhh, baby!" she exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. "Just look at the cum fly! Oooooo, I love it! My God, you were excited. There must be a gallon of the stuff. Just look at it!"
He couldn't look. His cock was so hard that it pulled his eyelids down. His body wouldn't stop jerking and thrashing. Every muscle in his body felt as tight as a bow string. Every nerve jangled.
She jacked him faster, twisting her hand around the shaft as it went up and down. She loosened her grip on the upstroke and tightened it on the downstroke. When her hand reached the end of his cock, her palm passed over the tip, capturing some of his jism. She spread the slick fluid along his shaft as he hand went down, making his prick more slippery.
She pulled and squeezed and twisted his cock until she drained it dry. Toward the end of his ecstasy, he pried his eyes open and watched her squeeze the last drop of cum from his cock. His eyes darted back and forth between his cock and her face, noting her passionate look and dreamy, half-closed eyes
"There," she said sweetly. "How was that?"
"Super!" he exulted. "I didn't know that jacking off could feel so good."
"Maybe the fact that my hands did the job made a big difference. I had fun doing it. Now, why don't you undress while I wash my hands?"
"God, my legs feel like jelly!" he said with a joyous guffaw. "You sure handled my cock well. I didn't know I had so much cum in me."
"You'd better have a lot more where that came from!" she teased, chuckling erotically.
He kissed her and patted her foxy ass as she walked away. She came back a few minutes later. She beamed and kissed him on the lips, flicking her tongue fleetingly in and out of his mouth.
"I borrowed that rug in front of the fireplace from Andrea this afternoon. Why don't we lie down and rest?"
Pat's mama didn't raise any fools. He grinned and lay down. "Whooo, this rug feels absolutely decadent."
She reached between his legs and pulled his cock and balls up so she could look at them. "Don't lie on those precious things, lover," she said. "You might crush them and then they wouldn't help either of us."
He sprawled out on the rug with his eyes closed, thoroughly relaxed. She leaned over and began to lick his cock. His body spasmed as though thousands of volts of electricity were shooting through him. He lifted his head and looked at her. She began to lick his cock quickly. He pushed himself up on his elbows so he could watch her.
She licked his dick until it rose to its full size. The feathery touch of her hands playing lightly over his cock and balls made him tremble. Her fingers touched every part of his prick as she gently massaged and rolled his balls.
"You have a beautiful cock, baby," she crooned, her voice soft and soothing. "Your balls are so full again. You need to cum badly, don't you?"
"Yeah," he wheezed, looking down at her lovely, sexy face, surrendering to her.
Her long, pink tongue slithered slowly between her luscious lips. They way she extended it reminded him of a giraffe's tongue. He knew that wasn't a flattering metaphor, but couldn't think of a better one at the moment. The tip of her tongue swiped across the head of his prick and he shuddered. She cupped his balls in her left hand, letting the hard, sensitive orbs rest in her soft, warm palm.
She closed her right hand around his stiff, pulsing shaft. Her tongue curled around the head of his cock, hot and wet on the nerve-filled knob.
He watched the foxy woman fool around with his dick. The heat of sexual passion permeated to the very core of his being. Even the marrow in his bones tingled.
She slid her tongue along the underside of his tool, from the head to the base and back up again. She opened her mouth wide with her tongue fully extended and began to lower her head slowly. He arched his hips and shoved his cock at her mouth.
She chuckled and let his prick slide slowly over her soft, voluptuous lips into her mouth. The tip of her extended tongue touched the base of his cock. She held his prick between her tongue and upper lip, and wiggled the tip of her tongue.
He sighed deeply and quaked all over. No one had ever made love to his cock with such consummate skill.
She drew her tongue back into her mouth leisurely, provocatively, sliding it along the bottom of his shaft. Once again, her tongue curled around the head of his prick, laving it tenderly, coating it with warm saliva. She held his love wand in her mouth and without applying suction.
Pat groaned out loud. Maggie chuckled again. The vibrations from her vocal cords lashed his cockhead. He groaned louder. She lifted her head and looked at him with a devilish twinkle in her eyes.
"You like getting your cock sucked, don't you?" Her tongue flashed out and laved the tip of his tool.
"God, yes!"
"I like to suck cock," she whispered. Her tongue made another swipe at his prick, traveling from the base to the head along the underside.
"As if I couldn't tell!"
She gripped his cock tightly with her hand just below the crown. Her tongue went into motion, licking only the bare head, periodically curling all the way around it. She licked it up and down and went all the way around it. She twisted his cock and turned her head so she covered every inch of the tender flesh.
His cock got so hard, it almost hurt. The head swelled bigger than he could remember. So full that pangs of lust shot through it. He wished she would hurry and take it into her mouth.
She began to bob her hand up and down as she licked. She gripped the knob loosely in her fist and licked the shaft. She gripped the shaft just behind the head again and dribbled saliva on the naked knob. She began to stroke, slipping her hand up around the head, then going all the way to the base.
"Playing with your cock is fun," she said softly. "Am I making it feel good? I really want to, you know."
"Fuck, yes!" Pat exclaimed. "You're very good. Your hands are so soft and your mouth is fantastic."
Determined to give him as much pleasure as she knew how, Maggie felt no need to make him cum yet. "Thank you," she said, smiling. She closed her left fist around his bare cock-head. She squeezed gently while jacking him with her right hand. "Does that feel good?"
"God damn, woman!" he yelped.
"Then you should really like this." She replaced her left hand with her mouth.
Pat gasped with delight as her hot mouth covered his cockhead, her lips closing tightly around the shaft just below the knob.
"God!" he croaked.
Maggie lifted her head and grinned at him. "Hang on, baby," she cooed. "I've only just begun to make your cock feel good."
As if to prove her point, she engulfed his prick. Very slowly, very methodically, her head began to move down. More and more of his cock disappeared into her mouth. He felt the radical difference when the head of his aching prick passed into her throat.
She swallowed nearly all of his meat and paused for a moment, holding his cockhead just inside her throat. She nearly blew his mind by tightening the muscles in her throat and applying exquisite pressure on the knob. He thought she was going to suck the end of his dick off and swallow it! The pressure of the knot of cum building in his gut actually hurt.
She stopped sucking and began to stroke what little of his cock was left outside her mouth. She held the head in her throat and gripped his shaft tightly. She used short strokes, twisting her hand around and around.
His body began to vibrate like the large string on a bass fiddle. His ass twisted and bucked. He gnashed his teeth. With supreme effort, he kept his eyes open so he could watch the astonishing woman fuck her phenomenal mouth with his cock.
Suddenly, cool air hit his cock. She sat back and watched his prick jerk and twitch.
"Maggie.. . ? " he mumbled his mind in chaos.
"I just wanted to look at your cock and let you calm down for a moment," she said with a sexy chuckle. "Don't you want the pleasure to last a long time? Don't you want to cum in my mouth?"
"Yeah, but I want to fuck you, too! I've already cum once."
"Don't worry, baby. We have all night.
Unless you have another dolly waiting for you in town."
Before he could collect his thoughts and reply, she wrapped her hand around the shaft of his cock again. She took a couple inches of cock back into her mouth. She held her head still and applied powerful suction in her mouth as her hand slid up and down the shaft, tightening ever so slowly.
His cock erupted with a turbulence that warped his mind even further. Astonishment registered fleetingly on his face, replaced at once by an expression of sheer ecstasy. His body stiffened and lifted his ass off the rug.
She held her head steady and let him fuck her in the mouth as his ass jerked up and down. She tightened her grip around his throbbing lance and began to beat his meat faster. She reached between his legs with her left hand to pull his balls gently and roll them around with her fingers.
Pat bellowed with pleasure. His cock squirted profusely and hot juice poured down Maggie's throat in dense gobs. His body strained and flexed and writhed and lurched. After a period of nerve-wracking rapture, his body went limp and fell to the sheepskin rug with a loud thud. He wheezed and panted, fighting for breath.
"No more!" he rasped.
Maggie lifted her head and looked at his cock. She cleared her throat a couple of times and swallowed hard to purge the unfamiliar clot from her throat. "Not quite all, baby," she said, her voice husky with emotion.
She grasped the base of his cock with her thumb and forefinger. She squeezed hard as her hand moved up, milking his cock. One large pearly drop of cum oozed out and stood on the tip of his prick. Her tongue scooped it up.
"Now, I've sucked it dry!" She smacked her lips and smiled. "I huffed and I puffed and I blew the man down!"
"God, baby, it was wonderful! Why did you jack me off and suck me off?"
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Maggie chuckled sexily. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, baby." She leaned over and planted a sloppy kiss on his mouth. Her tongue shot down his throat and played around for a moment. "Now, you do me. I need to cum so badly it hurts."
He eyed his flaccid cock. "Well, I obviously can't fuck you. Which do you want, tongue or finger?"
"Oh, your tongue, baby. I like to get my clit licked."
She sat on the couch so she could watch him lick her pussy. She leaned back and scooted her ass forward to put her crotch at the front edge of the cushion.
Aglow with bliss, he got on his knees between her superb legs and kissed her on the mouth. His tongue flashed into her mouth. Her tongue met his with equal zest. He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder and licked her neck.
She shivered with delight and murmured, "Kiss my nipples. Play with me."
His lips hovered over her nipples like a butterfly, barely touching each fully bloated bud of flesh. His tongue fluttered lightly on the very tip of each point.
"Bite them, baby," she whispered. Sparks of carnal pleasure ripped through her. Her tits swelled even more. Her hard nipples felt as if they might burst. "Be gentle, but bite them."
He surrounded one areola with his lips and tickled the hard morsel with the tip of his tongue. She squirmed with elation, put her hands behind his head and pressed his face into her tit.
He began to alternately gently nip and lick her taut tit bud. His hand wandered down her flat, smooth belly until it reached the thick fleece covering her prominent pubic mound. Her bush rivaled the sheepskin rug for softness. She moaned softly and hunched her cunt at his hand. He parted the meaty folds of flesh protruding from her slit with his middle finger. He began to nurse on her other nipple and rolled her large clit under his finger. Her hips churned and humped.
He dragged his tongue and lips down her body to her belly button. His pointed tongue darted in and out of the small cavity. She shivered and goose bumps rose all over her silky skin. He went lower on her elegant body, leaving a trail of wetness across her belly. He paused at the top fringe of her abundant bush and rubbed his nose back and forth through the soft curls.
She tried to push his head lower and wailed, "Suck my cunt!"
He ignored her urgency and leaned back. He parted the plump lips of her luscious cunt and gazed lustfully at the sumptuous sight. The slit in the wild panties framed her cunt perfectly, adding to the overall allure of her pleasure garden.
"Your pussy is so pretty," he said softly. "I love the way your inner lips stick out. And your clit is so big."
"Lick it!" she begged desperately. His deliberate dawdling had driven her to the edge of sanity. The overwhelming ache in her cunt made her head swim. She had to cum soon or she would go crazy! "Oh, baby, don't tease me! Lick my cunt!"
He thoroughly enjoyed her. He wanted her so hot that she would virtually explode when he finally brought her off. His tongue danced over her hard clit, barely touching it.
"Ohhhhh, fuck, baby!" she whimpered. She dug in the heels of her sexy sandals. She levered her ass off the couch, pulled on his ears and buried his mouth in her succulent quim.
His tongue flashed out and flicked up and down the full length of her suffering, saturated slit.
"Ooohhh, yessssss!" she moaned. "Lick it! Lick my clit! Lick my cunt! Make me cum!" Her head rolled from side to side on the back of the couch. Her ass humped and twisted.
He tongued and sucked the swollen bud tenderly, then cupped it with his lips. His rapidly moving tongue flicked it avidly, with just the right pressure. Her moans grew louder as the flames of frenzy licked at the borders of her brain. His licking was pure torture, but torture of the most exquisite kind.
"Oh, baby! Baby! Oh, yessssss!" she bawled softly.
Her hips settled into a rhythmic rocking. She grabbed her tits and began to knead the throbbing mounds. She twisted and pulled her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers until they pulsed in delicious torment. The pleasant ache in her tits and the electric shocks from his tongue on her clit inundated her with exhilaration. She barreled toward orgasm. The cheeks of her ass lifted higher off the couch with each energetic lunge.
Pat looked over her rippling belly at her lively fingers manipulating her stiff nipples. He drove his tongue into her quaking cunt and lapped up her ambrosial joy juice with great gusto. Her pussy literally flowed, pouring out more warm, savory essence, indicating that her sex thermostat had hit the top of the scale.
Her ass lunged up and down and gyrated without restraint. He had trouble keeping his mouth on her sultry snatch. Her orgasm started, so forceful that it drew her vocal cords too tight to speak. But she could scream, which she did as loud as possible.
Her climax built to a crescendo, along with her screams. When she stopped cumming and regained some semblance of awareness, she found herself lying on the floor with Pat still between her legs, licking her pussy.
"Oh, baby!" she whispered hoarsely. "No more, please. You'll drive me out of my mind."
They snuggled together and lay quietly. Pat enjoyed the feel of her voluptuous body against his. Maggie enjoyed the closeness and the afterglow of a fantastic orgasm.
"Are you ready for me to fuck you?" she asked.
"I'm ready, but I'm not sure that my cock is."
"We'll see about that," she laughed. She twisted around and caught his cock with her mouth. She began to suck vigorously as she fondled his balls and stroked his shaft. His prick rapidly rose to the occasion. She lifted her head and surveyed his erection. "There, that should do it," she said cheerfully. She removed the split-crotch panties and cut-out bra. "We'll both enjoy this more without those in the way."
"I'm not prone to argue," he quipped.
She pushed his legs together and straddled them. She leaned over, grasped his cock, and stroked it while she knee-walked slowly forward. She stopped with her cunt hovering over his cockhead. Looking him in the eye and grinning mischievously, she stuck the end of his prick in her slit, against her clit. She twisted her hips in a tight circle, teasing herself with his knob.
"Ummmmmmmm, I love that feeling," she breathed.
She pushed his shaft back and slid the head through her slit to the entrance to her cunt. She sank down and took barely an inch into her gap. She lifted her ass and rubbed his cockhead back through her slit to her clitoris.
Quickly, taking him by surprise, she jerked his cock backward and stuck it back in her hole. She sat down slowly.. .very slowly, very leisurely. His lance slid into the wet warmth of her channel with ease.
"Aaahhh, yes," she sighed. "Excellent cock. Just heavenly. It stretches my cunt just right. Wonderful." Her cunt swallowed all of his cock and she sighed deeply. "I love to fuck, baby."
She supported herself with her hands on the floor. She tickled his nose with her stiff nipples as she fucked him very methodically. She sat all the way down, filling herself with his long, throbbing prick. He felt a wave of fantastic pleasure shoot through him and moaned softly. He thrust his crotch up, pumping his cock into her.
Her ass began to move a little faster, rising and falling rhythmically. He grabbed her buttocks and dug his fingers into the taut, tender flesh. He slipped one finger into the deep crevice between the cheeks of her ass. The tip of his finger touched her puckered, flexing asshole. She shivered and corkscrewed her ass gently. Her nipples danced delightfully across his face.
"God, your cunt feels good," he whispered hoarsely.
Her ass began to go a little faster. Her fiery cunt slid up and down on his thick prick. She tightened her cunt muscles when her ass sank down and loosened them when her ass went up.
"Your cock feels pretty damn good, too."
He slid his finger down to the stretched, sultry lips of her torrid cunt and wet it with her love honey. He put the tip of his finger back on her asshole and pressed. Her sphincter flexed wildly. He pressed harder and his slick finger popped inside.
"Oooooo," Maggie whimpered. "I like that!" She tightened her cunt muscles and twisted her ass fiercely.
Much to her chagrin, she found herself fighting a losing battle. His cock in her pussy and his finger in her ass had her much too close to cumming. She wanted to make it last a long time, just for the sheer pleasure of fucking.
"How long can you hold out before you cum?" she mumbled.
"We'll just have to wait and see," he moaned. "The way you use your cunt muscles is fantastic!"
"You like that, huh?"
She sat up straight and played with her clit while she rode his cock. He stared at her in bewilderment. He had never seen her even touch her pussy, let alone jack off. And now she did it while riding his cock!
He tried to finger-fuck in her ass in counterpoint to the cadence of her fucking. As she sank down, he pulled his finger back. As she rose, he arched his back to keep his cock in her cunt and plunged his finger into her asshole.
Maggie shook all over his lap, moaning and panting and fucking. She dropped back over him and kissed him on the cheek and mouth. She stuck her tongue down his throat and then in his ear. She bit the lobe of his ear and made him cry out.
Pat relished the carnal stimulation that seared every part of his body. The sensations became more intense with every gambit Maggie used on his cock. She slipped and slid and jumped on his throbbing rod.
"Do you like the way I fuck?" she whispered in his ear, her voice strained with excitement.
"Fantastic, baby," he wheezed. "Fucking fantastic!"
She sat up again and squatted over his loins. She slid her cunt up and down his cock and twisted her ass in tight corkscrewing motions. She kept her cunt muscles clamped tight.
He lay still and watched the expression of lust on her beautiful face as she plundered her cunt with his cock.
"Yes, yes, yesss!" Maggie screamed. "I'm cumming, baby! Oh, God, I'm cumming so fucking hard!" Her words became an inarticulate babble as her orgasm grew in ferocity.
Her pleasure grew steadily wilder, like massive waves thundering on the beach. Passion churned, crashed against her, turned her over and over. Heated ecstasy consumed her.
Her frenzied bucking increased his pleasure. The agonizing bliss threw off his equilibrium. He became lightheaded, like the feeling one gets on a wild roller coaster ride. The sensation focused his attention on the fire in his cock as it plunged in and out of her terribly tight cunt. He barely managed to keep his finger working in her asshole.
She screamed louder. She didn't know which felt better-his cock ravaging her cunt or his finger stuck up her ass. His finger made everything come alive for her, took the emphasis off her cunt exclusively. She felt her orgasm as a flowing sensation, running all through her body.
She slowed, focused her eyes, and smiled at him. "God, that was good!" She rolled to the side and got on her hands and knees with her ass stuck up in the air. "Fuck me this way, baby! Do it doggie-fashion."
He scrambled to his knees behind her. He paused for a moment to let his passion subside. Fortunately, she stopped when she did. A few more of those wild moves would have drained his cock.
He gripped her lush hips and moved closer. She curved her back down and tilted her pussy up. He stared at her hairy slit as the tip of his prick nudged against it. She rocked back at him and his cock slid into her slick, super hot channel. He pulled on her hips and pressed his belly into her firmly rounded buns.
She sighed softly, straightened her arms, and pushed her ass back. He clung to her flared hips and began to fuck her with steady, controlled strokes. She began to rock back and forth in perfect harmony with his thrusting lance. Her big, dangling tits swung back and forth and bounced from side to side.
"My tits are flopping all over the place," she moaned. "It feels so fucking good!"
He craned his neck and looked at her tits. "Your tits are too firm to flop," he rasped.
"Do you like to watch them jiggle? Fuck me harder and watch how they shake."
He slammed his cock into her, going to the very bottom of her cunt with each lunge. His balls swung forward, touching her nest of abundant, cottony pubic hair every time he drove into her.
She balanced on her left arm and reached back with her right hand to frig her clit. She began to moan and shove her ass back faster, harder. He fucked her like a house afire, his teeth clenched, sweat coating his body in a filmy sheen.
"Now!" Maggie screamed.
Her movements became convulsive. She jerked and spasmed and bucked so hard that she lost her rhythm. He hung onto her twisting hips and plowed her pussy with disorderly thrusts. He didn't care about rhythm. The critical need to cum blanked out all coherent thoughts.
Her ass banged into his groin. The exertion of her climax wracked her body. Her furious movements, and her vise-like cunt muscles, brought on his orgasm. He came in deep, pulsating spurts. His cum filled her cunt and flowed back along his shaft and down the crack of her cunt.
He fell onto his side, his body as limp as his cock. She whirled around, grabbed his limp prick and stuffed it into her mouth. Sucking affectionately, she drained the last drop of elixir from him.
She raised up and looked at him with a big smile. "You really filled me, baby," she giggled. "Your cum is running down my legs." She gave him a sloppy kiss and snuggled down at his side.
"I'm bushed," he muttered.
"I'm the one with the bush," she teased. "And you sure did a great job of beating it."
"I have to go back to Dallas tomorrow," he said. "Come with me. Spend a month or two. Or a year."
"I can't leave Andrea right now, baby. I promised to stay with her until she gets over the shock of everything that's happened. Why don't you arrange to stay here a while longer? Tell your editor that you're going to finish your vacation. You took time out to write a good story about the murder, after all."
"He'll probably laugh and tell me to get my ass back there pronto."
"Well, I'll sweeten the pot a little," Maggie said. "Do you like Andrea? Do you think she's sexy?"
"Yes. What's that got to do with anything."
"If you stay, you can have both of us. Together."
"You're kidding," Pat said doubtfully. "I got the impression that she's a woman's woman."
"Don't judge a book by its cover," Maggie laughed. "Still waters run deep, and all those other clich's. She's hotter than a firecracker on the Fourth of July when you get her going."
"Well, I can probably wrangle a couple of days," he said.
"We'll tell her tomorrow," Maggie said. She gave him a big kiss. "You're all mine tonight. If I give your cock another tongue bath, do you think it will rise to the occasion?"
