From Rhettxxoo@aol.com Sun Mar 02 16:32:59 1997
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Subject: "Southern Hospitality" by Rhett Dreams, 4/10 [mf, crime drama]
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SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY
by Rhett Dreams (c. 1996)
Chapter Three (continued)
Starling went to the FBI building in downtown New
Orleans directly from the airport. She found her way up to
Gene Myers office, and peered into the half open door to find a
man in his early forties sitting behind his desk, talking on the
phone. Even if his name wasn't next to the office door she
would have known him from the easy rhythms of his baritone
voice as he spoke into the phone.
He looked up and waved her in. Starling entered and
put her small suitcase and shoulder bag down on the floor, then
took a seat in front of his desk, quietly opening the briefcase on
her lap to retrieve her notebook. She noticed that his blue eyes
followed her as she moved, looking over the top of his reading
glasses.
He smiled a greeting.
"If you bring him in, what are the chances he'll tell us
who he paid the cash to?" said Myers into the phone, then
scribbled down notes as he listened. Starling took this time to
study the agent in front of her. His face was wide and open
with laughing lines around the clear blue eyes. His hair was a
dark mass, a bit curly, not messy exactly but kind of haphazard.
His eyebrows were thick and unruly, graying along with the hair
over his temples. She noticed his tie wasn't on quite straight
and that his shirt was somewhat wrinkled. He was an attractive
man but rumpled, like he didn't have a wife to look after him, but
she looked for and found a gold band on his finger.
"Sorry," he said after hanging up. "That was a detective
in Beverly Hills. They've found what they believe is one of our
MP's car, a Ferrari."
"Oh, good," said Starling.
"Welcome to N'Orleans, Clarice," he said rising from his
seat and walking around his desk and extending his hand.
Starling rose and shook his hand, noticing that Myers was a
bear of a man, well over six feet and quite stocky. The hand
that held hers was a huge mitt, holding her much smaller hand
gently, as if he was afraid of crushing her. As she looked up
into his warm, smiling face, she suppressed the instantly warm
feeling in her gut for this man.
"Slow down, Clarice," she said to herself, "he's married."
'"You're much more attractive than that picture they ran
of you in People Magazine two years ago," he said with a
sparkle in his eyes. She remembered the college graduation
picture they had run along with the story of her solving the
Buffalo Bill case and recovering Senator Martin's daughter.
"Come, I want to show you something," he said and led
her out of the office and unlocked the door of a window-less
conference room a couple of doors down the hall. One wall
was covered with a huge map of the South, from the east coast
states to the western borders of Texas, Oklahoma and Kansas.
The map was covered with a plastic sheet and on the sheet
lines and stars marked various routes in myriad colors.
It was obvious even before Myers started his description
of what he'd done and what each line represented, that there
was a convergence area for all the lines along the gulf coast,
from New Orleans through Biloxi, Mobile, and Pensacola. She
sat and listened as Myers stood in front of the map and told
each story in turn, succinctly. Each colored line represented a
different case, starting with a star that represented the MPs
point of departure. A smaller star represented a known or
suspected stop for gas or food. The lines continued on logical
routes to their believed destinations. Small arrows every
hundred miles indicated direction.
"This next one, the Keating case, is especially
interesting" he was saying, pointing to the orange star in
Atlanta and the solid line that led southwest down Interstate 85
to Montgomery and from there to Mobile. "She was on her way
to Lake Charles, Louisiana, alone, driving a big BMW. The
ones that go for seventy-five grand. She stopped for the night
at a Holiday Inn here," his finger stabbed the orange star half-
way between Montgomery and Mobile.
"She had a reservation in New Orleans for the next night,
but never showed." He traced the now-dashed orange line
along the gulf coast of Mississippi and into Louisiana. Most all
the lines followed this route, some going east and some west,
and became dashed for the stretch between New Orleans and
Mobile.
"That's were we focus," he said, stabbing his meaty
finger at Biloxi, Mississippi. They talked about the case for
another two hours and about what they'd do when Agent Quinn
joined them the next morning.
"I should go check in," she said when they wound down,
a little before six. She had thoroughly enjoyed the discussion
and was thrilled to be working with this man.
"Nonsense," he drawled, looking at his watch, and then
slapping his forehead. "Oh, Lord... Follow me, Clarice," he said
and hurried out of the conference room in the direction of his
office.
By the time she had gathered her note pad and pen and
caught up with him, he was on the phone.
"Yeah, hon... sorry," he was saying into the phone, "one
more for dinner... yeah, that sounds great... uh huh... thanks,
hon."
"You're coming to my house for dinner," he announced
after hanging up. "We have a guest room with it's own bath.
You'll be saying the Bureau some money."
"I can't impose on your wife like that," said Starling.
"You wont be imposing, and it's not my wife. She passed
away eighteen months ago. My daughter, Nora, is home from
college and has made a big pot of gumbo. She'll be delighted
to meet you."
"Oh," she said. "Sure, I guess so... that would be great."
She felt the return of the stirrings in her body as they picked up
her bags and went down the elevator to the parking garage.
She really liked this man. She had also been without a man for
eight months, her last lover being Dr. Noble Pilcher, a Ph.D.
entomologist at the Smithsonian Institute. He was funny,
smart and good looking in a nerdy kind of way. She enjoyed
the sex with him, but she also knew that she didn't love him and
never would. He understood this, after a while, and they parted
after agreeing to remain good friends. When she looked at
Myers' broad handsome face she felt light-headed, and this had
never been the case with hew other men she had taken to bed.
They took his car, a five-year old Ford Explorer. He had
to move a stack of papers and magazines before she could sit
down. He tossed them in the back. The car had the same
cluttered, rumpled look as the man. They drove for fifteen
minutes and he pointed out things as he went, pieces of
N'Orleans history, famous houses and buildings and
restaurants. He pulled into the driveway of an old Victorian-era
house, and she instantly loved the southern feel of the
house's wide wrap-around porch.
He took her bags and led the way inside, showing her to
a large first floor guest bedroom, dropping her bags on the
antique four-poster bed.
"C'mom," he said. "My bet is we'll find Nora in the
kitchen."
Nora Myers was a tall, lanky girl in her late teens, with
long brown hair and her father's clear blue eyes. She greeted
Clarice warmly, offering her a taste of the spicy gumbo she was
stirring. Nora and Clarice chatted while Gene went outside to
set the table on the brick patio in back, the table shaded by a
large tree. Nora talked about her first year at college up North,
were she was studying oceanography. Then she quizzed
Clarice about life as a woman agent for the FBI, and about the
Buffalo Bill case.
The girl checked the rice and when she turned she saw
Clarice staring out the window at her father, her expression
showing admiration.
"What do you think of the old guy?" said Nora, moving
next to the older girl and watching her father sort out silverware
is his meaty paws and place them on the nicely folded cloth
napkins.
"He makes my knees weak," said Clarice, without
thinking, then blushed as she realized what she'd said to
Gene's daughter.
"He's a hunk," agreed Nora. "But kind of dense about
women. Don't expect him to make the first move, Clarice. He
tries so hard to be chivalrous that you'd think he was
uninterested."
She looked directly into Starling's attractive face and
added, "He ain't."
- o -
After a delicious dinner, Nora excused herself and went
inside. She'd explained to Clarice that her summer job started
early and she'd read a bit before calling it a night. Clarice
could tell, however, that she was just trying to get out of the
way. Gene refilled Clarice's wine glass and told her to relax
while he cleared the dishes. She sat back and enjoyed the
warm summer evening, feeling the effects of the wine and the
candlelight and the star-filled sky.
She noticed an upstairs light go on, then another, and
could make out the shadowy form of Nora as she moved from
the bedroom to the bath, preparing for bed. She could see
Gene's large form in the kitchen window, working at the sink.
As she watched him and sipped her wine she felt a tingling in
her sex, and wondered if she should sleep with him while she
was here. As soon as she voiced that thought in her mind she
was sure of one thing, that she wanted to make love to him,
tonight, and feel those hands on her body.
When he returned to the patio she rose and handed him
his glass of wine. He clinked his against hers and said, "To
solving this case."
They each took a swallow, their eyes on one another.
"No shop talk," said Clarice as she lowered her glass.
Feeling bold from the wine and the feelings she had for this
man, she moved up inside his arms and looked up into his
eyes. Her hand held his necktie and slowly pulled until his head
lowered and their lips met for a soft kiss.
"You're kinda growin' on me, Myers," she said, her lips
not even an inch from his.
"Oh?" he said, barely a whisper.
She kissed him again, harder this time.
"I feel like a shameless hussy," she said when they
broke. She could feel his heart beating quickly beneath her
hand on his massive chest. "But your daughter told me I'd have
to be direct."
She kissed him a third time, wetly, and their tongues
danced together through a lengthy kiss that had them both
breathing hard when they broke.
"Will you make love to me tonight?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, his voice hoarse.
"I'm gonna go take a shower," she said. She gave him a
quick kiss, squeezed his hand and walked toward the house,
noticing the curtains move in the upstairs bedroom.
She showered after unpacking her nightgown and toiletry
kit. After washing her hair and soaping and rinsing off her
body, she used her safety razor to touch up her legs and
underarms. Then she spread her slender legs apart and
brought the razor down to the silky brown hair partially covering
her sex. It was her particular vanity to keep herself trimmed to
a neat, small patch just over the lips of her sex.
Dried off and wrapped in a towel, Clarice returned to the
bedroom. She searched through the bedside table, hoping to
find condoms. Clarice she was not on the pill, for health
reasons, and had not thought to pack any with her. She didn't
find any, but did find two small glass bowls with short candles
in the middle. She found matches and lit the candles, placing
one on either side of the bed. The she pulled off the bedspread
and folded it up, then pulled the blanket down to the bottom of
the bed.
She turned off the overhead light, leaving the room
illuminated only by the candles. Discarding the towel, she
reached for her nightgown, wishing she'd packed something
lacy and sexy instead of this worn looking gown, a nightshirt
really. Deciding to remain nude, she brought the gown back to
her bag and put it away. She caught a glimpse of herself in the
mirror and stared at her reflection. Her apple-sized breasts
were firm and high on her chest, her stomach flat from her
rigorous exercise routine, her legs well-muscled and shapely.
"Not bad, Starling," she said. She watched herself in the
mirror as she brushed her hair, her free hand tracing up her
belly and over her breasts. Her nipples lengthened under her
fingers and she could feel her sex wet itself in anticipation of
Gene's arrival.
- o -
Gene knocked softly on the door five minutes later. He
dressed in a robe after showering upstairs and he could feel his
heart beating faster than normal in his chest. He heard her
voice say enter, and opened the door. It took his eyes a few
moments to become accustom to the dim light, but when he
saw Clarice sitting naked on the edge of the bed, his heart
raced even faster and his mouth felt suddenly dry.
She stood as he approached, watching his face as his
glance traveled over her body, from her firm breasts, the
nipples stiff and long, down to her sparsely covered sex. She
walked into his arms and kissed him, wetly, and felt his massive
hands circle her body and hold on to her ass. Then he was
lifting her, pulling her off the ground and into his chest, their
tongues dancing together as the kiss lengthened.
It seemed to go on for an eternity, but they finally broke,
and he returned her to her feet, his hands moving to her waist,
holding her away from him, his eyes on her breasts.
"You're lovely," he whispered, his voice deep and
passionate.
Clarice grabbed his wrists and brought his hands up to
her breasts, pressing them into the firm flesh, wanting his large
hands there, and in her sex, on her ass. She looked up into
his face as his hands kneaded her gently, and she could feel
her erect nipples press into his palms. Reaching down she
undid his robe, pulling the sides apart and pushing it off his
broad shoulders. His hands left her breasts for the moment it
took to shed the robe, then he pulled her too him, turning her
easily with his strong hands, pressing her back to his body. His
mouth lowered to kiss her neck and his hands kneaded her firm
mounds, before one slid down her body and cupped her sex.
"Ohhh," she moaned, feeling a thick digit enter her sex
and his cock pressed against her back. She moved her legs
farther apart.
"It's been a while," he whispered into her ear while his
finger rubbed over her clit.
"For me too," she said. "Too long," she whispered. "Do
me like this, Gene. Make me cum using your hands... your
fingers."
He pulled on her nipples and dug a second finger into
her tight snatch, playing her body like an instrument. She was
quite different that his late wife, hard and angular where his
wife had been soft and round. His hands caressed and probed,
his thick fingers flashing back and forth in her tight sex until she
came, crying out loudly, squirming against him as the waves of
her orgasm rocked her body.
He picked her up when she was finished and laid her
down the bed, then sat down next to her, one hand resting on
her thigh. His eyes feasted over her body, watching her
breasts rise and fall with her quick breathing, to the neatly
trimmed hair below and the wet, open lips of her sex.
Clarice opened her eyes and smiled when she saw his
eyes on her sex and felt his hand caressing her thigh. She
turned her head and found his cock, a thick pole standing stiff,
the heart-shaped head glistening in the dim light from pre-cum
that had oozed from the tip and been spread when she moved
her back against him. She reached out and took his cock in her
hand, marveling at its beauty and thickness. It was not terribly
long, maybe seven or so inches, but thick like the man himself.
"Oh, shit," she said and then giggled. Seeing his cock
reminded her that she had no condom. She told Gene of her
need and saw his face cloud with doubt.
"I don't... think I have any, Clarice."
"So much for spontaneity," she said.
He laughed and said, "Well, there are other ways to
make love, as you've so beautifully demonstrated."
Clarice smiled but she wanted him inside her, badly.
"You could pull out, y'know, before..."
"Not in my current sate, Clarice. You've got me as
excited as a sixteen year-old virgin. I wouldn't trust myself."
"Then the second time," she said, scooting over on the
bed and urging him on. She positioned him on his back and
knelt next to his hips, her ass resting on her heels. She took
his cock in her hand and stroked it, feeling the weight and
hardness with her fingers.
"I'd like to suck you off," she said, keeping her blue eyes
on his as she lowered her head and licked the head of his cock.
"Oh, yes, babe," he said.
She kissed the head several times before taking it past
her lips and into her mouth. Gene moaned as he felt the warmth
and wetness of her mouth envelop him. She brought him
along slowly for several minutes, licking and kissing his cock,
and sucking gently when she took him deep in her mouth. Her
free hand went to his balls and cupped the heavy sacs as she
intensified her sucking, bobbing her head up and down, her
cheeks hollowing out to provide the maximum pressure on his
rod.
"Ohhhh," he moaned and she felt his shaft jerk in her
mouth and the first jet of cum splash against her throat. She
swallowed as quickly as she could and continued bobbing up
and down as jet after jet of hot cum blasted into her mouth.
Chapter Four
"If I make you as excited as a sixteen year-old virgin, it
shouldn't take more than five minutes for you to recover, right?"
Starling felt his chest vibrate beneath her as he laughed.
She was laying on top of him, her fingers playing with the curly
hair on his chest.
"Those were the days," he said.
She lifted herself up and kissed his chin, then his lips,
then his eyelids.
"This may be an impertinent question to ask a father,
but... might Nora have a condom that we could use."
His eyes opened, and he looked at her for a moment,
before rolling her over and lying on top of her, but with most of
his considerable weight on his elbows and knees.
"You are an impertinent little thing, Starling." he said, his
eyes laughing.
"And a shameless hussy, Myers," she said.
"That too," he said and kissed her.
"But I want you inside me," she said. "I want you to fuck
me, Gene."
They kissed again, and she could feel the first stirrings of
his cock pressed against her thigh.
"Maybe I should flip you over and take your ass," he
said, his eyebrows arched, humor in his eyes. He noticed her
face register surprise.
"Forget I mentioned that," he said, quickly, kicking
himself mentally for breaking the lovely mood.
"Have you, um, ever done that," asked Starling. "Anal, I
mean."
Gene let out a breath and said, "Yeah, but I wasn't really
sugg---"
"No, I'm curious," she said and blushed. "With your
wife?"
"Yes," he said. "It may surprise you to know that you're
only the second woman I've ever made love to. You and Chris."
He kissed her softly, then rolled the two of them
sideways so she wasn't crushed under his weight. Their faces
were six inches apart.
"Chris was, well, a wonderful lady. Two years into our
marriage, this was before Nora, she noticed that we we're
making love as often. She went out and bought "Joy of Sex"
and bullied me into trying new things. It was like being a
newlywed again. Over the years she'd be the one to introduce
new things... sexy lingerie, role-playing... lots of beautiful things
that kept our marriage young. I had no imagination compared
to Chris."
"Me either, I'm afraid," she said. "Did you... did she, like
anal sex."
"Uh huh," he said.
"That's it, "uh huh"," complained Clarice.
"Uh huh," he said.
Clarice laughed and rolled away from him and off the
bed, and he watched her walk over to where his robe had
dropped earlier.
"Why don't you make us a drink," she said, pulling his
robe on and chuckling at the size of the garment on her much
smaller body.
She went upstairs and found the light still on under the
door of what she figured must be Nora's room. She knocked
softly and entered when she heard Nora's voice. Nora was in
bed, two pillows behind her back, reading. Her face broke into
a huge smile when she saw Clarice enter and cross the room
dressed in her father's robe.
"Oh, boy," she said.
"You said that I'd have to take the initiative," said Clarice,
sitting on the edge of Nora's bed.
Nora smiled and said, "I'm really glad... for both of you
but 'specially dad."
"I've got a weird favor to ask you... I didn't pack any
condoms, not expecting.. y'know... and your dad doesn't have
any."
"Oh!" said Nora, giggling. She motioned for Clarice to
get up, then slid out of bed and led the her across the room to
her dresser, her arm around the older girl's waist. She opened
her top draw and pushed aside a bunch of lacy lingerie. At the
bottom of the drawer were several books, several dildos and
vibrators, a box of condoms and, to Clarices surprise, a tube of
K-Y jelly and an enema bag. She noticed that one of the books
was, "Nine and a half Weeks." Clarice remembered reading
that erotic story several years back, disturbed at her body's
reaction to the escalating scenes of dominance and
submission.
"You're welcome to anything," said Nora.
"My goodness," said Clarice, blushing slightly as her
hand passed over a foot-long black dildo and retrieved the box
of condoms.
"This'll sound strange to you but most of this stuff was a
gift from my mom, in a box that she'd left for me to open after
she'd passed away." Nora retrieved a small notebook from the
drawer. Clarice noted that it was filled with neatly penned
writing, and the girl's voice broke as she explained the
notebook to Clarice.
"She wrote me this... her thought and ideas about sex...
about letting your body and mind stay open to new
experiences... it's really beautiful."
Tears were running down one cheek and Clarice hugged
her.
"If your father doesn't kick me out after tonight, maybe
you can help me with some of this," said Clarice, indicating with
a wave of her hand the contents of the drawer. "I'm not very
experienced, and I don't have your mom's wonderful
imagination."
Nora wiped away her tears, smiled and hugged Clarice.
Clarice pulled a condom from the box, thought again,
and took a second. She said goodnight to Nora and turned
toward the door.
"Wait... wait a sec, Clarice. What size are you?"
"Six," she said.
"Bra?"
"Thirty-four."
Nora smiled and rummaged through her lingerie. "Take
off that ugly robe, Agent Starling. We're gonna give ol' dad a
surprise."
She pulled out two lacy things in a fuchsia color, and
held them up for Clarice to see. The bra was tiny, the cups not
meant to cover more than the bottom third of the breasts,
leaving the nipples exposed. The panties were cut severely up
the sides, showing almost all of the thighs, and fastened at the
crotch.
"Were these your mom's?" said Clarice, intrigued by the
sexy lingerie but certain that it would be too bizarre if she
showed up in his late wife's things.
"Mine," said Nora.
Clarice threw off the robe and quickly slipped on the bra
and panties. When she stood in front of the mirror, with Nora
standing behind her also examining her father's new lover in
the reflection, she felt and looked sexier than she ever had
before.
"I look like a total slut," said Clarice, smiling at Nora's
reflection in the mirror.
"Uh huh," said her coconspirator, smiling back. "He'll go
nuts."
At the foot of the grand staircase, Starling removed the
robe and hung it over the edge of the railing. A smile on her
face, she strolled down the hall to her bedroom. She was about
to enter through the half open door when she heard a voice
behind her.
"Over here, Clarice."
She turned and looked into the family room, now dimly lit
by candles, and saw the large shape of Gene Myers in one of
the easy chairs. She entered the room, her hips swaying a bit
more than normal, her breasts held up and together by the half-
bra, her stiff nipples leading the way like beacons.
"My goodness," she heard him say as she approached
and entered the range of the candle's light.
"Hi, lover," she said, noticing now that she was a couple
of feet from where he sat that he was still nude. The sight of
his strong male body caused her sex to tingle in anticipation.
"I was worried that you'd switch partners," he said,
handing her a glass containing a generous portion of amber
liquid.
"Cognac?" she said, swirling the glass under her nose.
"Armanac, actually," he said.
Clarice took a seat in an easy chair that diagonally faced
his. She put her legs up on the coffee table, next to the bottle
of Armanac, and crossed them at the ankles. She took a small
swallow of her drink, watching Gene over the edge of the glass,
and felt the liquid burn slightly as it went down her throat.
"Nora is sweet, but she's not my type, Myers."
"I'm glad to hear that, Starling. I want you to myself
tonight."
"You got me... oh, and my journey was a success." She
held up two foil-wrapped condom packages.
"In more ways than one. You look incredibly sexy."
"You can thank your daughter for this little number," she
said, emphasizing the word little, and chuckling happily. It was
strange, she thought, and a totally new experience for her, to
be sitting like this with a man, wearing lingerie that made her
feel more exposed and sexy than if she was nude. "Hell," she
thought, "it was also unheard of for straight-laced Clarice
Starling to be sleeping with a man she just met."
Gene leaned forward and poured himself another drink.
"Normally," he drawled after he had finished pouring his drink,
and capping the bottle, "I don't let guests put their feet on the
furniture." He ran the back of his fingers up her slender leg.
"Will you make an exception for me, an uncouth West
Virginia girl barely a generation out of the coal mines?"
"Only 'cause your legs are so fine," he said.
Clarice uncrossed her legs and slid forward in her seat,
sipping her drink while his huge hand caressed up to the inside
of her thighs, then back down, slowly, to her ankles.
"You don't think they're too muscular?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Jogging?"
"Uh huh," she said, "and swimming, and martial arts."
"Rank?"
"Black, second degree."
"And I've heard you're probably the best shot in the
Bureau, with either hand."
"Brigham's much better," she said, remembering her
gunnery instructor at the Academy.
"Nevertheless," he said, "I've got to remember never to
piss you off."
She laughed and widened her legs as his hand made its
way up her thigh, only to stop maddeningly short of her sex.
She sighed and took another swallow of her drink.
"You're pissing me off now, Myers" she said, lifting one
leg off the coffee table and draping it over the edge of the chair,
the invitation clear. He chuckled and dropped to his knees,
pushing the coffee table away to give him the space he needed
in front of her chair. This time it was his lips and tongue that
traced a path up her leg. When he reached the small triangle
of silk covering her panties he heard her whisper about the
snap he could use to open them. He ignored her and continued
to make love to each of her thighs, then rose from his haunches
to position himself so he could flick his tongue back and forth
over one long, stiff nipple then the next. She moaned when he
took a nipple between his teeth and chewed it gently. Her free
hand combed through his mass of hair, pressing him to her
breast, enjoying the exquisite feelings coming from her hard
nubs.
When his mouth left her breasts and slipped down her
flat stomach, she pushed his head down, urging him lower. He
complied, and was soon kissing and mouthing her sex through
the thin fabric that covered it. He lifted her other leg off the
table and draped it over the other arm of the chair, then slid his
massive hands between her ass and the seat of the chair.
Lifting her ass off the chair, his mouth returned to her sex.
"Lick me!" she cried, her passions enflamed. "Put your
tongue in me."
He used his teeth to pop the small snaps at the crotch of
her panties.
"Ohhh," she cried when his tongue found her erect clit.
He carefully avoided the sensitive nub and drove his tongue as
deep as it would go into her hole, pressing his face up against
her sex. He proceeded to tongue her for several minutes,
avoiding her clit because he knew she'd climax before he
wanted her to.
"Oh, God, Gene," she cried, "make me cum!"
He withdrew his long tongue from her sex and lifted her
further off the chair. Clarice cried out in surprise when she felt
his tongue slid back to her rosette and flick back and forth over
the virgin hole.
"Oh my... Oh my!" she said as his tongue teased her
rosette, the new and incredibly edge. She moaned in
disappointment when his tongue finally ended its assault.
Looking down past her heaving breasts she saw his eyes
reappear at the vee between her spread thighs, watching her.
She felt his mouth cover her sex and waited, desperate, for his
tongue to enter her again and give her the release she sought.
Instead, she felt his fingers shift beneath her and one digit
rotate in small circles over her now-slick anus.
"Oh, Jesus!" she cried when she felt the finger force its
way inside her ass. "Ohhh," she moaned as the new feelings
added to her already overheated senses.
Then she felt his tongue return to her clit, flicking quickly
over the sensitive nub, driving her very quickly to the edge and
beyond. The orgasm that followed was the best of her life,
continuing for what seemed like an eternity, the dual assault on
her virgin ass and clit sending her body into convulsion after
convulsion.
--
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