Veronica was a little disappointed to shake herself of the last wild fantasy. How she was able to manipulate John, and how different was his behavior than the real way he acted – no jealousy, just pure hard and simple action. Now he was going to call just the next day and demand explanation. Could she possibly tell him how much better off he'd be if he just loosened up a bit, rode with the punches and let her call the shots? No really. He was as hard headed, old-fashioned and stubborn as they come, she knew that, could tell that when she first met him.
Veronica remembered the first meeting in the office, how he bored her with his bragging and obvious ploys to impress, but some how that wall all ironed out when he took her to bed that first time and showed her that he was a real man.
Veronica decided to go take a bath and try to unwind a bit, because after all, it would be two on Sunday before she would know it, and then she'd have to come up with something really good, if for no other reason, to ensure that they didn't get into the same old bind. She took the towel from around her torso and made sure she drew a tepid bath. Satisfied with the temperature and quality and quantity of bubbles, Vern put one toe in the water. How different from her pretend outing, she thought. There, she took less time to dive into a wild pond than to go into a lousy tepid bath tub.
Well, she thought, you can't have it all. The water felt nice, especially inside her cunt, which, by any standards, had been given quite a workout. The options were opened to her; just as she could have some more masturbatory fun, she should also come up with something to explain away her uncharacteristic behavior. She could tell him she was physically sick but then again, he'd seen her, and she was up and about. She could tell him that she'd been seeing somebody else, but he was so jealous. It wouldn't be easy.
Veronica lay back into the hot bath. She could feel her cunt recuperating, the tiny muscles inside of her thighs regaining strength, as she lay in the water, as she stroked her breasts and spread around the bubbles. John wasn't that bad a buy; he'd his faults, but when you got down to it, he was a dynamo in the sack, relative to the other duds she'd been out with; no sense blowing it with over a dildo.
As the woman got out of the tub and began to dry herself off, she thought about the office. She realized that all her characters had some basis in the office, from Buck to Maggie, from Lu to Bernice. Sure, Buck was none other than the mail boy – it was amazing she hadn't noticed before. She'd lusted after the young stud, especially when he'd bend over to pick up the envelopes off her office, his muscular buns bulging through his trousers. She knew he was the outdoor type – most unusual for her stuffy office, and even talked to him about his trips upstate, where he'd do it all, from hunting to fishing, from eating his own catch, to sleeping right under the stars. She'd thought about making it with him, but there was always the specter of John who would be looking over her shoulder, checking out that she behaved herself and not to get out line.
But still, it was hard to resist. She did her little daydreaming at that time, picturing the stud as he whipped out his cock and offered it to her one late afternoon after everyone else had gone, gritting his teeth as she did her business. It would be a thick, healthy cock, coated with fine layer of hair at the base, surrounded by bushy pubics and he'd have a wild look in his eye as she'd do it to him.
No conversation necessary, it was a terrific fantasy, Vern going right down, taking the wet tip between her lips, then moving up, bringing more of the member in her mouth until she could not fit more, sucking on it, making it harder still. He groaned out, and held on her shoulder, but she didn't abate her moves, just intensified the blow. There was a sound in the other room, but the couple was oblivious, acting like nothing mattered accept his coming sure and swift.
He would come, too. He would spew his juices all over Veronica's face but she wouldn't care – even if it meant staining her dress or otherwise marking her person for sure recognition. She'd be out of her senses, without ability to ponder and consider, weighing the consequences against her pleasure. Such was the level of her ultimate turn-on.
"Oh did it, do it!" he'd moan until, suddenly he'd be writhing in painful passion, then spurting, squirting, ejaculating his hot, manly come.
That was Buck. Lu: executive secretary of the Vice President in charge of consumer relations, a bombshell, with such polish and style that Veronica envied her no end. After all, she got to go on business trips, to lead the glamorous life of the big city secretary with everything stacked in her direction, from expense accounts to the plushest office in the place, from a sexy voice and dynamite body to the attention of all the men she could ever want.
Lu would even make it with guys in her own boss' office; now that was nerve. Veronica watched one evening as she brought in this rugged looking man in a tux, then quietly closed the door, not even concerned that Veronica, who was putting in overtime, had seen her. Vern could hear some groans from deep inside the office, and when the man slipped out fifteen minutes later with a contented look on his face, Vern didn't have to use much imagination to know what had transpired.
Bernice: Bernice was a bit craftier in this regard. No downright siren, no obvious coquette, she was very much subtler. She had a conducive position (internal personnel relations) which allowed her to circulate. Vern could tell she was after action the way she looked at John when she came to hear of his complaints she just kind of paused and looked at his body, right below the waist, before she introduced herself. But Vern couldn't see how she flopped with John – who was always up for some strange meat – but she left looking a little frazzled.
Yes, they were all in the office, one after the other, the bases for Vern's little office flight. But now she was on her own, waiting for John.
The rest of the day was uneventful, and Vern went to sleep only to awaken at eleven, a mere three hours before she'd have to meet the stud.
When she gained consciousness, she was just as horny as ever. She knew what she wanted to do be fore the stud really came. She wanted to go through the motions in her own imagination, make the scene happen the way she really wanted it, to get off on the idea of his visit, per-affording some consolation for what could happen.
She imagined hearing the door ring and showing the stud in. "Oh, hello John, I hope you'll excuse the mess, but you see I've been playing with myself the entire week end."
"Wha…"
"That's right John. You see, you just haven't been satisfying enough to me, so I kind of took it upon myself to get down to some real fucking, using a dildo and one hell of an imagination."
Instead of anger, disappointment, dropping her like a door-nail, he just said it was fine, but that he could give her a better time right then and there.
Without another pause the stud moved over and began to gently kiss her on the neck. Then he took the initiative of going into the kitchen and returning with her whipped cream. Without even undressing her, he pushed the nozzle under her brassiere and she could feel the cream filling the cups, melting right over her nipples, cooling her down her hot tits and even driving her on the wild side. Vern took the can and put it under his belt, squirting it into his jockies. He yelled out from the shock of it all, but aware that he had it coming, he wasn't about to resist. He looked up, his eyes wide, face red, then pushed Vern down on her back until she hit the rug and felt his weight entirely over her, like some great northern grizzly.
"I'm gonna fuck you girl, better than you can fuck yourself, you'll see."
"You've got some stiff competition." She looked over at her electric cock.
That gave John an idea and he took it in his hand, pressing the buzzer and sensing its intensity. "I can see how you can get off on this – sure, why not. Its got hardness, its got vibration, all the elements of real turn-on."
He pressed it against her cheek so that she could feel the ticklying, prickling sensations and then pushed it lower on her neck. When he reached the upper part of her cleavage which he exposed by pulling down the top of her blouse, she could hardly stand it.
"Come on, fuck me with it… stick it inside me."
"Not yet," he said mysteriously.
Then he pulled down his trousers until his own cock was visible, large and erect. He put it side by side to the electro-cock and started to evaluate. "I have to admit, it is bigger, and harder at that. But you can't compare temperatures."
"Fuck me," she pleaded.
"You'll get yours, don't you worry, but a man likes to look at his competition, you know how it is, kind of see what it was you saw in this guy, I mean cock."
"Fuck this shit, come on now."
Veronica tried another approach, smiling seductively, moving over slowly and removing the remainder of her top, silently pushing her breasts against his thigh.
"Come now Veronica, can't you see I'm not quite through with my business."
"What are you trying to do?"
"It's a contest of sorts, you might say."
"With you the judge."
"That's right Vern, I may be a little prejudiced, but I always preferred a game with loaded dice."
Vern had enough at this point; it was her show. She pulled the cock out of his hand, then pressed it against his buns, finally pushing down his shorts and sticking it on the outside of his ass, pressing it around the rim. Here, she could tell she was really getting to him.
"Now wait a minute, oww…"
By the time she spoke, she had the cock half-way up his ass, no lubrication, no nothing. She started to move it about and he started to plead for mercy.
"Stop, oh, no, take that fucking thing out."
"Now you can see that's not the great thing you thought it was."
"Okay Vern, you win, it sucks, no competition for me, and I'm not jealous."
Her point made, Vern took out the dildo and threw it over to the couch, purposely throwing short so that it hit the floor, but it still remained functional. "I bet your cock couldn't take that kind of abuse."
John moved closer to her and pulled down her slacks and panties exposing her lovely pussy hair.
"Eat my cunt, John, the perfect way to celebrate." He moved down to her steamy cunt and began to lick her thighs, making her hotter as was his usual practice before getting down to heavier kinds of eating.
She compared his style and technique to her other imaginary lovers, only she was able to approximate the stud's real behavior because she'd known him so many times before.
He wasn't bad – perhaps the best. It was quite a transformation, the way he looked so respectable in his vested suit, the ideal of the dependable American businessman, but then could be transformed into a cunt maniac by the mere sight of pussy. She liked to see that change. It began when he loosened his tie, pulled it lower until he seemed to be getting to work on some project, then the look in his eye changing as he unbuttoned his shirt and ex posed the fact that he wore no undershirt. That always turned her on; a man who made no bones about his underclothing, eliminating the shirt. It made him seem more sensual, more on top of his desires, more… accessible. That was John, all right, accessible, MR. ACCESSIBLE.
It wasn't that his flirting with anyone in a skirt took her by surprise, but she did want some special treatment. The more he told her she was his favorite, the less he treated her kindly in the office, almost purposely making time with other girls right in front of her face. Who knows? Maybe she could tell him she was having an affair with a guy and that would get him in fine – except if he simply jolted her, then where would she be?
No, she'd have to play it nice and easy and just get out of her own hot water, hoping that the stud would play it her way.
"You like pussy, don't you John."
"You better believe it."
He continued to go at the broad, sucking, licking and generally doing everything that she could imagine below her waist, from petting her to feeling and sucking. She could hardly stand the excitement of it all. He knew he had her. He pushed his hands up ward over her smooth skin, the approached the underside of her knockers, digging his thumbs into the intimacy of the fold on the bottom, bringing other fingers up on top and making contact with his middle finger over her rapidly erecting nipple.
"Oh, ah, oh!"
She was where he wanted her, ready for some horizontal action. The stud pushed her down on the floor and positively jumped on her, rolling about like she were some carpet, her on top, then him, around and around they spun until they hit wall.
"Oh!" she cried out.
"Come on baby, you can take it. I know you like rough stuff."
And she did. She liked a big cock to take her by force, by brute force and subdue her to his own will, throw her about with violence and brute determination. He had all of that, the size and the stature to pull it off. She wanted to pull him off.
Veronica pushed him to the side and looked at his fantastic cock, big and manly. Without another pause, she pushed her thumb the entire length of the shaft and decided to do a little flicking up near the tip. She gently stroked it and then put more pressure, just on the tip now, no diffusion of energy, just straight ahead expert fucking.
"Oh, baby."
"Yeah, I know how to flick like nobody else, baby."
She was not being immodest, merely stating a fact. Vern knew how to sense just how far she could go before the point of diminishing returns, just how safe it was to take him to the point of the arch – that is the point where a man thinks he might come, but the broad is so on top of him, she knows how to bring him down before he shoots.
That's where they were now, at the big arch, at the point of explosion.
"Do it to me," he begged, losing all sense of judgment.
"Come now, I know you don't want this nice affair to be over so soon, do you now? That would be ruining the timing." She expertly used this opportunity to pause in her manipulations and let him get a hold of himself. "Now, that would be fucking up the timing, same as in business, like if you said to some client at lunch, 'come on and sign, right here, sign it and we can be on our way,' before the guy is ready – and that isn't good business. Now you're not ready to go on your way yet, are you John?" She liked be mg condescending on him like that for a change, for now, in all her youth, she had the upper hand.
"I'll know when you're ready."
She eased down the pace with some simple necking, gently tapping him on the back with her fingers and then kissing him slowly on the lips. It was still nice in a soft-core kind of way. She could feel a slight tingle from her lips, through the back of her neck and head, and almost shivered a little when she touched the hairs on his arm.
"Oh, baby, kiss me all the way," he moaned – he was hers for the taking.
Veronica continued to kiss easy, then put on more pressure until she thought he was down enough to get into gear once again. She pushed her hand lower on his stomach until she reached his pubics. He arched his back hoping for some cock action, sticking his genitals right upward so that the were the highest point of his body, his cock sticking up like a pole, but Vern wouldn't be pushed.
"Come now, my friend, you'll get yours… don't be hasty."
"Now you fucker, now you bitch."
"Hey," she teased, "unless you apologize this instant, you'll have to leave right now." (She had him by the balls!)
"Okay, you win, I'll do anything you say, just keep fucking me girl."
"I think I'd like to have my back scratched."
"You what?"
"That's right. Now do it, because if you have to be slow about it, I might get a little impatient and think of some more tasks." She thought it could be fun to have the stud peel her a grape or something equally demeaning.
He rose, kicked a pillow out of her way, then positioned his body so that he could turn her over.
"I hope you realize not many women would be able to get away with this."
"Guess I just have a few talents."
"You cock teaser!"
"That's right, I like to tease, but I deliver, too. I'll give you what you're looking for, and you'll get it delivered in a nice package. You go my way and you won't regret it."
The stud pushed her on her stomach and looked for her ripe area. She did have a fantastic back, no doubt about that, the way her shoulders arched broadly on each side, and her spine curved inward, a perfect slope down to her buns where there was the most desirable little dimple. He gazed in perfect admiration for several minute as Vern patiently waited for some action. Then he gently pushed his fingers along the spine, tracing a path down above her buns, finally patting her ass and then squeezing the skin.
"Oh, yes, yes, that's the way to do it."
He pushed harder and moved down the slit down to her dark, sensual underside, pausing for several seconds to really get it on down there, and push harder and faster, increasing the tempo from a languid waltz to an allegro and then presto. On and upward he pushed back up the entire length of her spine, pausing luxuriously by the sides of her breasts, then up the nape of her neck.
"Fuck me, push those fingers inside again," she pleaded.
"Guess the tables are a little turned my lady."
It was Vern's fantasy and she decided it was only fair to give the man equal time, because even though she was calling the shots, it didn't mean that he would have to receive all the blows. No that would be boring, would take the edge of excitement off the entire affair.
Now it was torrid, crimson action.
Suddenly, John took on a gnome like look, a ghoulish expression which made him into a fiend, an evil genius bent on fucking the hell out of this girl, taking her into the sky of action.
"You look a little strange."
John took his evil expression to the limit, enjoying his new hobgoblin identity.
"Oh, yes fuck me you demon!"
John stood so that his cock was visible. He looked gigantic as Veronica lay under him. She'd realized she had never seen a man from that position, where his cock can be seen from the underside, where his balls seem to hang ten inches and dominate his being, where his asshole is just sitting above, waiting to be manipulated and invaded by brave fingers.
He looked like a liege, a suzerain, the overlord sovereign of her passion, the patriarch of all sexuality, the potentate of passion.
Come on, she thought, stick that fantastic cock in side of me, stick it in my mouth and in my ass and best of all, stick it inside of my cunt.
"Suck me now."
This time she obeyed the commandment, sticking the schlong inside and sucking on the hot tip. She felt her entire mouth begin to burn with passion as she took it inside, the way it fueled her passion and enveloped her entire being, made her want to eat his meat and swallow his come, made her want to fuck, and suck and bring him down on top of her with such determination, frenzy and energy, that he could only beg for her to stop.
But not yet; there was still time for real action. Vern continued to go at the man, sucking it, taking in more into her mouth until she knew there was little more room.
She wanted to feel under the thralldom of his power, and enslavement, to be under the tutelage of his perfect yoke. She wanted to be taken to the limit, to feel his disciplined control subordinate her will to his own.
"Fuck me," he ordered, and she promptly obeyed in a sense, by beginning to not merely suck that cock, not merely push it in and out, but get down to some downright pumping.
It was her redemption, her extrication and acquittance, an absolution from her endless desires, from her determination to reach some ultimate climax. She sucked the shaft and was sure that it was somehow getting harder and hotter then when it first went in. How that was possible she did not know; how he could get himself into an even hotter state of fury was impossible to say; how he managed to sustain such a passionate level was also difficult to determine, but the understanding was secondary to the experience, the first thing that mattered was the straight forward fuck.
Then it was time for some lower kinds of plea sure, from the oral to the genital, the hard, straight forward fuck.
Vern rose and then moved down to the wall, fingering her way along the wall and seductively moved into the bedroom, wiggling her ass in such a seductive way, that John could not quite hold himself back while this siren got away. He chased her, spotting her position by the sheer sight of that great ass, those almost perfect buns which almost begged to be touched, to be manipulated and otherwise made erotic to a point of pure sex.
"Oh, do it, do it."
"Baby, I'm yours if you can catch me."
"No problem."
Within seconds, the stud had caught her, and his first action was to bury his teeth right into her ass, to feel the flesh pinken, rougify and then show the while marks of his choppers. "Oh, don't you brute," she mockingly protested. But that wasn't about to stop the stud, and he spread her buns until he could see the fine opening of her anus and below it, the very opening of her womanhood.
"Yes, fuck me, fuck me."
Veronica was rolling around on her bed now, imagining this scene, aware that the real John would be there in the mere matter of an hour, but unable to stop herself. She was nearly insane with passion, but would not, could not gear herself down. All discipline, self prohibition, imprisonment, incarceration of her passions was gone, and the only thing left to do was to give in and go with it, ride with the wind and love the pure gratifications of unrestrained sexuality.
She wished no exculpation, no punition for her drives, but simply gratification of desire which can only be meant in the form of a fantastic orgasm.
She wanted her body to be tied in knots, literally stretched to the limit and then given complete satisfaction.
Her shape was especially desirous, the short of her back as straight as could be, the deviation at the small of her back a perfect rendered curve, a festoon, a downright parabola of form, the perfect form.
Her partner could barely hold himself back, caught up in the undulation of her movements and the sexiness of her roundness. He couldn't control himself anymore and pushed her on her own bed with a force which almost destroyed the mattress.
She looked up at his incredible frame just before he unloaded his weight on the bed, his sculptured face, the sharp outline of his face, the contour of his hips, cut out of a finely hewn steely material, his hew perfectly contoured, a structural perfection. The amorphous, slightly intangible nature of his attraction had to do with his overall beauty, the radiation of his masculinity, pure virile strength.
She looked up at his half-moon as he turned around, the hook and crook of his hip, the curl of his hair as the wind pressure pulled it off his forehead. His buns looked positively polished, and sleek, even glossy but most of her tough and hard. It was like he was macadamized, so was he composed in his terrific structure. He knew she admired his ass, and as a way of fulfilling her, he backed up into her face so that she could kiss him there, right on the buns, right on the seat of his manhood.
"Kiss them, baby, and feel them, and do anything your little heart desires." He knew that the first thing – according to all the best polls – that a woman looks at, notices when she sees a guy walking by, is his buns. Why he did not know, but the important point was it was true. He used his ass when he found this out, used it in the office, neatly walking by a woman, turning his back, removing his sport coat as to make it as visible as possible.
"Kiss baby, kiss."
He began to feel her hot lips, first touching and then with great pressure digging in to her skin. He liked that, having her go down with such assurance and clarity of motion and form. "What a broad, what a fucking broad you are!" he said, delighted. "You've got one ass."
"Better than having two, wouldn't you say?"
"Oh, no time for funny stuff."
It was quite a scene that she was able to compose, quite a fantasy and she didn't want it to end. Perhaps her desire for power made her enjoy calling all the shots and setting all the scenes, perhaps the fact that she was really nothing but an egotist, but whatever, she knew it was going to end soon, and as if out of a protest of this fact she continued her action stronger and harder than ever without easing one bit.
She felt like an equestrian, a tramp of sex, a globe-trotter over the entire surface of sensual experience, a nomad of sexuality. "Fuck me now, fuck me all over, fuck me inside my big healthy cunt." It was big and healthy, besides appearing well formed and juicy, her equipment was in peak operative condition, her juices flowing generously and spontaneous, her tissues will formed and pliable, able to adapt to any male challenge which would come her way (the thought of Buck i.e. carrot, proved that).
Then she had John push his pecker into her cunt slowly but with an assurance and a motion which she knew meant she was in for a fantastic situation, a terrific orgasm being built by the blocks of pumps and the girders of grinds.
"Harder, faster."
"Baby, I'm yours, I'm all yours."
She scratched at his back, creating marks, but he couldn't have cared less. She pushed her lips into his until they were almost crushed flat, but again he didn't care. She kicked up her legs and wrapped them around his back which would have knocked the wind out of a lesser man, but again he didn't care. It was all pure excitement, pure fuck pleasure.
Faster and harder, there didn't seem to be any end to it. It was the consummation of pressures and drives building for weeks. Sure, Buck was great with his fucking good times, his wild and natural abandon, the way he taught her in her mind to ignore any inhibitions taught by civilization and give in to animal instinct, and he knew how to do things no other man had ever attempted (the image of that hard rock was still on her mind) but regardless, he still didn't come up. Sure, Monty was all stud, too. And the women. She'd never tasted what excited men so about female tit, but now she knew, the softness, round contour and especially the nipple which erected and seemed like the source of all plea sure. She knew all of that was there. But John held the attraction of being flesh and blood, a man she'd really known, and therefore knew his potentialities, which were not being met.
Now she could work with a given, take something which was known, improve and expand upon it until it became a real piece of perfection.
"Fuck me," she continued, and he pushed in deeper, until it felt she could not possible accommodate another piece of him, but just at that point, he managed to move against her even further.
"Oh yes."
"Baby, I'm really fucking now."
"Fuck all the way."
"All the way baby."
He was inside all the way – there was nothing more to be done, nothing but move the path to ecstasy, the entire route to pure passion.
"Fuck me!"
He was pushing against her just about as hard as possible, about as thoroughly as he possibly could, until she almost couldn't bear the pressure, but made the motion for him to ease off. She felt his balls push against her thighs in rhythmic patterns, with every thrust as they obeyed the laws of gravity and force.
"Fuck harder, all the way, with everything you've got."
"Baby, you asked for it, and you're going to get it."
Harder he pushed, kissing her violently, passionately all over the face, on her forehead, upward to her hairline as he pushed his hands through her hair, on her nose, touching her nostrils with his tongue, on her high cheeks, wetting them with his spittle. He kissed her lips, opening them with his tongue so that he could get at her beautiful insides, merging his spit with her saliva, until he knew that she was his for good.
"Fuck me, oh this is too much, too fucking much."
"Baby, kiss me harder."
She pressed her lips against his until she was sure that he could take nothing more.
Then to her utter amazement he said, "More, give me more."
Wishing to oblige, going with the stud all the way, she pressed harder against his lips and then moved upward – somehow, someway – until she was nearly even with the top of his head, until she could stick her superbly erect nipple in his mouth. He bit down on it with such enthusiasm that she could hardly believe that she didn't mind the pain – another advantage of pure fantasy – short of carrots, its all in the mind, psychosomatic.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck all the way."
He managed to slide his cock out because he was overcome with the desire to fuck her tits.
He looked at his cock. It was hot and sticky all right, covered with a few drops of sperm which escaped, but most of all her magnificent lubrication which made him shine and gooey.
Then he laid her on her back and she pushed up her knockers to make them ever more prominent. Somehow her nipples looked even larger than ever, two spheres, covering almost the entire front of her mammaries, perfectly centered with a teat looking as hard as a rock, ready for the heavy stuff.
"Fuck me," she repeated for the hundredth time.
"You get yours, baby."
He began to suck at her, to nose her up and stomp her face with his tongue, then moved his body higher, until his cock was even with her abdomen. He liked pausing there for a second, just feeling her pulsing belly under him, pressing up at him as he pressed down, waiting for his every move with impatience and desire.
Then he made it up to her tits, and just made contact with her erect nipple, touching it, the thick skin of it, the lush top and side of it, with his fat cock which was larger and somehow more swollen than it had ever been before, which was just waiting to unloosen the loads filling his sacks below.
"Baby, I want you right down to my socks."
She pushed up her hands and touched him there, which made him squirm, but it was a squirm of desire and pleasure, not of retreat and bothered reaction.
"Fuck my tits."
He began to press the tip of his dick into her knockers until one full drop of jism escaped onto her, a perfect little indication of what was to come.
She looked at his cock, perched between her breasts, which she pushed together in order to hold the hot stem in place. She told him to move upward until she could feel it under her chin, and then by moving her head up and her chin down, she was able to taste the tip of it with her lips. It was a fucking fantastic sensation, the thoroughgoing invasion of her private parts by those genitals, and his balls hugging down on her lower chest, just under her breasts.
He began to pump, softly, then harder, until he let the throttle all the way out once again, driving her, taking her on one fantastic sex ride which could only end one way: splattered, bathed in hot jism.
He kept moving, kept grinding his hips without stopping.
It could lead to only one place.
Veronica got up and went over to the shower. His cock was so engorged with blood, so fucking heavy that he had to hold it in his hand as he followed her into the steamy stall.
She was alone as she turned on the warm water, first burning hot in order to create a nice mist, then more bearable when she entered it, but she might as well have been with her young stud, the room was so filled with his presence. She could almost feel his big cock against her thigh and then push against her rear bun.
"Oh, fuck me in the water, right here in the shower."
She picked up a piece of soap and imagined what it would be like to soap him up all over, down his chest, creaming up the hairs on his chest and making her way down his stomach to his pubic area, first matting the hairs and best of all, bathing his cock in the creamy soapy material. She wanted to go without stop, without mercy and without restraint.
He obliged and took her hand in his, soaping up his balls, until they were covered with fluff, entirely engulfed in the bubbling, steamy white stuff, ready to unload their own contribution to the mixture.
"Come on baby, this is it."
"You're going to come?"
"I'm not exactly going."
She wanted to be in on this, or rather more correctly, have him in on her.
Veronica took his bubbling member and stuck it right inside of her cunt, but just as she was doing this, just as she was getting it deeper and deeper inside, almost all the way in, just about as far as it would go, she felt in the bottom tube on the underside, a strange swelling, then the distinct and sure movement of a thick and viscous substance, making its way out in an explosive move.
"Agggh, ahh," he moaned out as Vern pushed her hips flush against his in order to cement the relationship.
"Aggggh!" she moaned when she felt him spurting and she realized that this was the big moment they had both been waiting for with passion and with abandon.
This was the big one as the vixen took in the spurts and let him fill her with his fantastic jism. Right when he was spurting he took the cock out of her in order to place it on her body, to cover her with the jism and afford the opportunity to look at the love juice. Even the pounding, steamy water could not dissipate the material, nor make her diverted from the full pleasures which were engulfing her. For a minute, everything was too strong, too many of the pleasure centers of her brain had been tapped and she felt dizzy as if she could go unconscious. But then she was able to rally her senses and feel the hot jism being driven down her thigh from the force of the water. He was exhausted, or so she imagined him to he, and she brought him over to the bed for a smoke.
It was very real to the girl. She'd been in the shower for real, had been sticking her own, now very experienced fingers, in her cunt, and had really come. So adding the image of a man, an exhausted man, and his thick jism was not all that difficult. She lay on her bed, alone, but not really alone. She imagined conversing with the stud, about how hot they got, about how fantastic it was doing it in the shower, about how things could never quite be the same between the two of them in the office now that they knew what they could do, in bed, in the shower, hell, in any place they might choose.
Then, after several minutes of such rest, the broad imagined looking over at her love partner and she almost couldn't believe her own thoughts when she conjured that great big cock, once again hard and virile. She was desirous of it herself, for as long as he could remain excited, she could be taken beyond the point of orgasm, to secondary orgasm, and tertiary orgasm if available.
She moved over to the member and began to stroke the top of it, moving down to the glans and then the very tip until the opening itself was pulsing in and out, alternately expanding and contracting as if possessing its own level of excitement, as if having a mind of its own.
She took that cock between her fingers and gave it the old going over until it was right where she wanted it, perfectly excited to a T of perfection, all hard and virile, ready to penetrate or vituperate, or do anything that she might have in mind.
"Oh come on baby, let's do it again, let me fuck you all over again, just like it was the first time."
He was so incessant, so desirous of doing it one more time that she let him go at it.
No, there was nobody in the room but Veronica, that is, Vern and her magnificent dildo which allowed her such creative fantasy, but it still didn't matter. "Tell you what," she said, "why don't you allow me to go change into something comfortable, you know one of my sexy little nothings which can drive you wild just looking."
She went into the corner of her bedroom and chose a particularly sheer negligee, one that was exceptionally transparent. When she turned to the side – which she did deliberately – her breasts were in gorgeous profile, outlined by a stream of light, their roundness spectacular and the cherries digging into the front of the material perfectly out lined.
She walked up to where she imagined John to be standing (still with glorious boner) and pushed herself against his chest until she could feel him straining against her tits. Then she took his hand and cupped it over her breast until the pressure dug into his palm and sent into rapturous desire.
"Let me fuck you this final time, right now," he pleaded.
"Yes, I guess you've behaved fairly well, as a matter of fact, my friend, you've done okay the entire week end, from taking me to that place to the jaunt in the country, from bedroom stunts, to doing it in showers, wet or dry, nude or wearing some scant garb. You're one stud."
He was turned on by her compliments (his masculine ego thus fed) and he pulled the sheer top down so he could see much of her cleavage – actually he'd pulled it to just above the nipples, which was perfectly clear, since he could see the nipples under the cloth in any event.
"One last time! Fuck me one last time!"
The entire scene was so vivid in her mind, and her cunt was so hot, that it was beginning to be difficult for our Veronica to distinguish fantasy from reality, until it seemed strange to her that the man she was balling was simultaneously on his way over to pick her up. She glanced at the clock, and, observing it was fifteen minutes until two, knew that she had to work fast. Hell, she wasn't even dressed, but nothing would stop her, pull her away from this great, last fantasy, masturbatory fuck.
No, she imagined telling him, I won't give you up. I won't let you dissipate in my mind until I get one more juicy orgasm, until you take me all the way one more time.
"But there isn't time," he pleaded.
"We'll risk it. We'll make time."
"You live dangerously."
"It's the only way to live."
"Okay bitch, here goes. But I have a real temper and when I show up at two, I don't want to find any competition, even if it is from my imaginary self."
He jumped on her and fucked, pushed and ground until she almost cried out in pain.
He pushed against her tits.
He ground into her.
He rammed his pecker almost as far in as it would go.
It was a fucking good time, but the clock pushed forward and for that matter, her dildo was beginning to show the wear. It was sputtering a bit, and it looked a bit frazzled around the edges and almost cracked toward the tip.
"Come on," she said, "don't fail me now whatever you do. This counts, really counts. I want it this one last time."
Harder she pushed it inside of her, even abandoning her fantasy in order to give exclusive attention to coming, to making herself go to the big "O". Like some kind of addict, she felt if she could just have this one last fuck, this one last orgasm, she could meet John and take him on his own fucking terms. She wanted this one to remember, just this one alone, all by herself: solo. "Uh," she moaned out, then glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost two. She only had a few minutes left, just a few minutes to make herself go over the top. She felt her tits, violently rubbing them together and apart, exciting herself to a higher plain. But her mind might have been confused; never had it been so stimulated, so intensely and quickly after a past orgasm, and for that matter, had delivered so many climaxes in such short notice. But that was okay. This was a first, all round, and she felt cheated if her body would give up on her now that she was on the home stretch. Her nipples were erect as could be, a good sign, just sticking out in front of her, perching upward as if looking for a man, some big stud to give her hot action.
"Ooh," she groaned and saw that it was one minute to two. She could make it; she could go over the top in a minute, in one fantastic sixty seconds. Harder she pushed on her stick, her electric cock. The week end was ending just as it began, just her and the electric cock, no John, no Buck, no Maggie Lu and Bernice, just solo all the way, nothing to excite but pure sensation, the individually unique qualities of hard plastic vaguely shaped to resemble a real live pecker.
"Come on, come on," she pleaded. "Do it to me, go all the way you plastic cock." Harder and faster she pushed like a she-demon, like an addict who has to have a fix, incessantly pushing and grinding, perchering her back up and shaking her big tits wildly. She was all woman, all animal, a tigress, a bucking woman stud who was not going to stop until something broke, her cunt or her dildo, one or the other.
"Aggh, agggh," she pushed out of her throat. She looked at the clock, with the second hand racing against her own passion, twenty… Fifteen… ten seconds away from the zero hour.
Then with nine… Eight… Seven… to go, she came, in one sudden rush of blood enveloping her pussy and brain at the same time, a fucking fantastic release to the rescue.
"Aggghhh! Agghh!" she yelled out – exclaiming in pure delight over the unique and torrid experiencing, then falling back helplessly and entirely spent, as the second hand continued its odyssey, three… two… one BINGO.
It had been the fastest, yet one of the most unique orgasms of her entire life – a life not without experience.
There was only one thing left to do. She languidly walked over and put on her robe, then made her way to the front door. She opened it just as John was about to ring the bell – he always was punctual.
"Hey," he said sprightly, "you'll never guess what I have planned, and you really should get dressed right away. We're going upstate, because I've rented a whole bunch of gear and we have Monday off, and best of all, I've got the two best guides in the area, a young boy and girl, about twenty I think, and very enthusiastic about their job!"