The only evidence of Sue's fury was the way her green eyes flashed an she glared at Carl Randall. Without looking around to see if anyone was watching, she took his overly familiar paw off her well-rounded thigh.
"Keep your hands to yourself," she snapped at the brazen lifeguard.
"Now, is that any way to talk with someone who – uh – knows you as well as I do?" Carl asked insolently.
Carl's touch, and the memory of what he had done to her in the shower, sent a wave of heat boiling through Sue.
"I've forgotten all about what happened a week ago," she said, trying to get still madder so she would be able to ignore her growing horniness. "And you had damn well better forget it, too."
Carl glanced around carefully. The pool was empty. The only other people around was a small group playing bridge at the far end. "But you are unforgettable," Carl replied in an oily tone. "How could I possibly forget the way you lit up when I put it to you? Why, the scratches you clawed in my back won't let me forget." He gripped her thigh again, very high up, his fingers pressing into the soft, warm flesh just below the leg band of her suit. An inch higher and his fingers would be pressing against her pussy.
Sue's fury won out over her lust. Without even thinking she grabbed Carl's forearm and sank her long, strong nails into him. For a moment it was a real contest. Then Carl's confident grin changed to a wince and he released her thigh.
"You keep your slimy hands to yourself, or by God I'll have you sacked," Sue informed him bluntly.
Carl's grin was strained as he held his arm to staunch the flow of blood. His face was white under his tan. "Oh, no you won't, Mrs. Hot Pants. I'm sure your husband would be very interested to know how I found out about the mole you have just above your pussy. You won't do a thing." He got to his feet and strutted away, still holding his arm where she had pierced it with her nails.
She glared after him, rigid with fury. Then, all at once, fighting back her team, she slumped. The bastard, the absolute bastard. He had her right where he wanted her, and he knew it. God, why had she ever given in to him in the first place? She should have applied a knee where it would have done the most good, before he had gotten his paws on her.
But just remembering that foul episode heated her up. And now, the way he had touched her thigh, so high, so boldly, so intimately, had stimulated her. She could still feel his hard hand pressing insolently into her delicate flesh, practically into her pussy.
Sue realized suddenly that she was sweating. It was not a particularly hot day. She got up from the lounge, took two long strides across the deck and plunged into the water. It closed around her like an icy body stocking, jolting her. She coasted through the clear blue filtered salt water, then drifted to the surface. Carefully avoiding looking at Carl in his elevated chair, she swam the length of the pool and back. She could feel his eyes on her. It was a choice: give him either her ass to look at, or her breast.
The water was cooling only Sue's skin, and she knew it. In her guts she was burning up, from week-old memories, from minutes-old touches. The handsome lifeguard's insolence increased her perverse lust. And now, knowing he was watching her, was adding to her excitement. She had a sudden insane desire to strip naked, right there, in the middle of the pool, and feel the cool water touch her all over while he feasted his eyes on her nudity.
"This gone far enough!" Sue muttered softly, furious with herself now.
Quickly, she splashed to the side of the pool, hoisted herself out, grabbed her towel and headed for the lockers. At least this time she did not need to worry about Carl. He was on duty, and couldn't leave the pool. This late in the season, he and the other lifeguard alternated.
Deliberately, Sue went to the shower farthest from her locker – farthest from the one where that animal Carl had "taken advantage" of her. The quaint phrase made her lips quirk in a weak smile as she adjusted the water. She unfastened the bra of her suit and freed her breasts. The feeling of nothing but air against those heavy orbs always made her take a deep, satisfied breath. She wished she could get away without wearing a bra, but her build and the social pressures in the town dictated otherwise.
Briskly, she pushed the bottom of her suit down and off, and stepped out of it. Leaving it on the floor to be rinsed by the water running off of her, she took the bar of soap and used it to lather her salty red hair. She knew she was vain about her long, rich red curls and didn't care. What woman wouldn't have given anything to have hair that color, with just the right amount of curl? Year after year, regardless of changing styles, Sue wore it long, to her shoulder blades in back, to tickle the tips and curl tantalizingly around the full thrust of her tits in front.
She remembered how Jerry had once tied her long tresses under her chin. The thought of what had followed brought a renewed rush of heat to her loins. She combed her fingers through her hair, rinsing the soap out. The pose raised her full breasts. Warm, thick waves of sudsy water swirled down over her boobs.
With lathery hands she cupped, weighed and massaged the large, soft, heavy masses of her tits. She loved the slippery hot feel of them in her hands, and the warm friction of her palms over the rubbery, sensitive buds of her nipples. Liquid sexual excitement flowed through her body, softening her muscular tension, making her breathe raggedly. The excitement Carl's touch had triggered in her flamed higher now from the added fuel.
"Awww, damn," she swore softly, trying to stop playing with her heavy breasts. She felt she was behaving like a vain child, playing with her own body this way. But she was so desperately, desperately horny!
Damn Jerry anyhow! What was wrong with him? He hadn't paid any attention to her in weeks and weeks now. Maybe there was someone else. That secretary of his was certainly a looker.
However, Sue felt reasonably sure Jerry was not having an affair with Diane. She and Sue were friends, good friends. On the other hand, Sue was pretty sure Diane was in love with Jerry. What secretary wasn't in love with her boss to some extent? And Sue had to admit that Diane showed very good taste if she was in love with Jerry.
Sue kept fondling her breasts with one hand.
She slid the other slowly down over the gentle swell of her tummy, and pressed soapy fingers through the soft, soggy curls of her auburn pubic bush. The touch of her finger on her clitoris made he legs go weak, her knees spread slightly. She swirled her other hand in a circular motion over one breast and then the other, making her nipples burn. Weakly, Sue leaned back against the wall of the shower as lust boiled through her.
She tried to picture Jerry making love to Diane. She found she could easily imagine Jerry with the tall, lithe brunette. But, strangely, along with the surge of jealousy, Sue also felt a blast of excitement in her guts. The picture of Jerry's huge cock being rammed into Diane brought a gush of fluid excitement from Sue's cunt.
Sue wanted to stop this masturbatory fantasy, but was too far gone now. She drove a finger into her straining pussy, and jammed her thumb down on her clitoris. She visualized Jerry's huge prick, sliding out of a black-furred cunt, the ivory column all shining wet and slippery with fluids. Then she imagined it jamming back into a hot, velvet tunnel, and recalled how wonderful it felt pistoning in and out of her own belly.
Sue groaned softly, her body knotting as she climaxed. She stimulated her pussy with as many fingers as she could cram in, in feeble imitation of the cock she really wanted. She savored the flames roaring through her. Then, at last, unavoidably, the fire faded, leaving her feeling hollow, empty, and disgusted with herself.
"Damn you, Jerry, damn you," she swore. "What's happened to you? What's happening to you?"
She turned her face to the hot, stinging jets of water. Then, finally, pulling herself together, with brisk efficiency she finished showering.
Turning off the water, she pulled her towel from over the door and gave her hair a quick blotting.
She wrapped her nakedness in the towel, gathered up the soggy wads of her suit and opened the door.
The corridors were reassuringly vacant as she made her way toward her locker. The bathhouse was a sprawling maze of ceilngless hallways between the dressing rooms. Her feet slapping on the wood floor, Sue followed the familiar twists and turns.
She had just unlocked the dressing room door when a slender, wiry young man appeared at her elbow, and firmly steered her into the cubicle. "Hi there, Mrs. Anderson with the mole over her cunt."
Sue went rigid. Then she turned, her face red with fury. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked.
Stan Simpson snapped the lock on the door behind him and leaned against it. "What do you think I'm doing?" he retorted.
"I think you're going to get the hell cut of here," Sue answered angrily. Without realizing it, she drew his attention to her scanty covering by clutching at the towel defensively.
"Haw," Stan snorted. "You look like, who was it now? That broad that was in all those road pictures with Bob Hope."
"Dorothy LaMour," Sue filled in automatically.
"Only better," Stan went on. "Much, much better, in fact."
"What do you want?" Sue asked desperately.
She blanched when Stan untied the string at the waist of his skimpy swimming suit. "Just a little piece of the action you gave Carl," he informed her insolently.
Sue's eyes were glued to Stan's crotch as he stripped off his suit and jock strap, casually exposing his stiff, jutting prick. "You – you're crazy!" she gasped. The sight of the white, spearing prick stabbing straight at her made her throat tighten. Stan was as tan, even tanner really, than Carl. And, where Stan's suit covered him, he was a pale white. His cock looked almost as long as Jerry's monster prick, but it was not nearly as large around. It was long, and skinny, and threatening.
"No, just horny, Mrs. Mole-above-the-pussy," Stan taunted.
"You-you just get your suit back on and get out of here," Sue said desperately, cursing the way her voice shook. She felt a hideous surge of lust at the sight of Stan's naked cock. Why did her pussy have to born so with hunger at the sight of it?
"Stop that!" Sue said, frantically clutching at the towel.
Stan pulled it out of her grasp easily, unwrapping her deftly. His pupils dilated visibly at the sight of her pink and white and tan nudity. He licked his lips, his eyes sweeping from the rounded, full thrust of her lush tits, to her trim waist and perfect hips.
Sue huddled, one hand ineffectively shielding her breasts, the other cupped uselessly over her furred pussy. She couldn't believe she was in such a position. How had it happened? She was stripped naked, and was being insultingly, intimately studied by this little twerp of a lifeguard! Desperately, she rallied her courage and her Irish anger. "You get the hell out of here, you damned animal!"
Stan's handsome face clouded with fury, his dark eyes snapping angrily. "Not likely, Mrs. Mole-above-the-pussy," he retorted. "Not until I get exactly what I came for. Otherwise the entire Wednesday Club will get some really juicy grist for their mill."
Sue felt the blood drain from her face. The so-called "Wednesday Club" was the worst collection of gossips at the club, a collection of viper tongued women who would like nothing better than to be able to demolish Sue's reputation and standing in the club. But that didn't bother her as much as the knowledge that if the Wednesday Club got word of anything about her, Jerry was sure to hear it, too. "You wouldn't dare," Sue hissed desperately.
Stan Simpson's cruel, confident smile as he stood in front of her, naked, his arms folded across his strong chest, told Sue that he would do exactly as he had threatened.
"Please," Sue whispered, facing defeat at last.
"Give me what I want, and I won't breathe a word," Stan told her. "Now, let's see a bit more of that gorgeous bod of yours."
Sue felt like crying. But, at the same time, she felt a flicker of pride at Stan's obvious hunger and admiration. She lowered the arm she had been using to shield her tits. Then she uncovered her pussy. She stood up straight and proud, facing him. After all, it was her body, nothing to be ashamed of.
Stan stared, and his cock stiffened, swelling and pulsing heavily as his eyes raked her from head to toe. "Shit! You're everything Carl said, and then some," he murmured in amazement.
Sue felt pride, and a quivering of sexual excitement at the youth's rampant admiration and desire. She felt her tits harden in anticipation. She felt her pussy ooze its desire. This young man stunned contemplation of her, beauty gave her feeling of power and confidence. Stan's hand shot out and gripped one heavy breast. He sank his finger into the soft, warm, tender mound. His face was cruel. "That's what you think, bitch!" he snarled.
Tears of pain scalded Sue's eyes. "You're hurting me," she said as calmly as she could.
Stan released her breast. "Aww, gee, I'm sorry, Mrs. Anderson," he apologized with mock concern.
Tenderly, he brushed her nipple with his fingertips.
Then, abruptly, sadistically, he snapped the tender bud with his fingernail, hard. Sue yelped inadvertently.
"Look at this, bitch," Stan whispered nastily. He held his prick in his hand, tilting it up so the head, and its tight slit, pointed straight at her face. "Look at it!"
Against her will, Sue looked.
"Just like a popsicle," Stan said softly. "Just like a real, live popsicle."
Understanding instantly, Sue squeezed her lips shut and shook her head.
"Just like a yummy delicious popsicle," Stan repeated. "Think how it'll taste. Think how it'll be to have it, all hot and alive and juicy in that pretty mouth of yours." His excitement was roaring higher and higher as he described what he was going to make her do.
"No!" Sue bit the denial out sharply. She was afraid to leave her mouth open, afraid of what would be thrust into it.
Still holding his prick in his right hand, Stan stroked his left thumb down Sue's cheek, under the line of her jaw. "You're going to suck my cock, Mrs. Anderson," he informed her softly.
"No!" She chopped the single syllable off sharply.
"Down on your knees, Mrs. Anderson," Stan insisted, taking a fistful of her damp red hair.
Sue shook her head, blinking back tears of pain and misery.
"On your knees!" Stan ordered more sharply, twisting the handful of her hair painfully. "Or would you rather be tarred and feathered by the bitches?"
Slowly, Sue sank to her knees in front of the head of his cock. He kept it pointed straight at her face. Her mouth was suddenly flooded with saliva as she thought about what she was going to be forced to do. The prick she was going to suck was drooling its own foul hunger, too. A clear drop of lubricant slid down from the slit.
Stan used his grip on Sue's hair to pull her head toward his groin. He aimed his cock at her mouth, and his guts knotted with anticipation. He had this woman totally at his mercy, and she was going to suck his cock until his balls were empty. And, from the look on her face, she was going to enjoy it, though he doubted that she would admit it.
"Suck it," he ordered softly.
The hot knob seared Sue's lips.
"Suck it!" Stan said more sharply.
Sue opened her lips, felt the head of the lifeguard's cock enter her mouth, and closed her lips around the heavy, hot cylinder of male meat. Her tongue automatically curled around the rounded cone of his glans and her nose was filled with the stench of his secretions. Her mouth was flooded with the metallic saltiness of his lubricant. Her stomach knotted in rebellion, while her cunt contracted and wept with desire for what her other end was getting. Sue's breasts brushed Stan's hairy legs, making her nipples burn with passion.
Stan felt a hot tremor roar the length of his prick at the first touch of Sue's tongue. He stared down hungrily at the redhead as she took his cock between her dainty lips, bathed it with her velvet tongue. He wished he could see more of her face as she sucked his cock, so he could see that white tower of gristle driving into her high-class mouth. From the looks of her tits, the way they were jutting out eagerly, she was really enjoying this.
Sue was enjoying it, but she would never admit it to this foul animal. She and Jerry, when first married, had been very conventional and conservative in their lovemaking. But later they had begun experimenting. This was one of the things they had tried. But, for some reason, he had never let her finish him off this way. Always it had been only a prelude to fucking, and not an end in itself.
Sue knew that this time, with Stan, that was not going to be the case. She was quite certain he was determined to unload his cum right into her mouth. That was why her stomach was rebelling. If Jerry had asked her, she would probably have done it willingly, out of love for him. It would have been of her own free choice. But the bastard that was forcing her to suck his cock would give her no choice.
"Take more of it," Stan ordered, pulling her head forward, forcing another inch and a half of his prick into her mouth. "More of it, dammit!"
So Sue took more of it, and cursed the searing lust that was blazing in her guts. She tried to tell herself that she was hating this vile, disgusting act. But her primitive animal lust would not be denied. While her mind was rebelling against the act; her body was relishing it, loving it, boiling over from the act. She could feel that her crotch was wet, flowing with juices, pouring them into the thick red patch of her bush. She was kneeling with her naked thighs pressed tight together, and they were squirming, stimulating the silken flesh sensuously. With her free hand, she dug into the upper end of her slit, seeking the bud of her clitoris. Finally she had to part her thighs, slightly so she could reach her goal, and she knew that Stan knew what she was doing, could see her masturbating.
Sue wanted to cry, but she was so aroused she couldn't. Only her pussy was weeping, arid that was from excitement, not misery. She drove her head forward, taking Stan's cock further and further into her mouth. She felt the rubbery head bump against her soft palate and press down on the base of her tongue like an obscene tongue depressor. Her breath burned in her nose as she fought for air. Her mouth watered heavily because of the bulk in it, like, it was savoring a fine cut of steak, instead of live cock in a perverted act.
Stan loved the feel of her mouth around his prick. He had always liked having his cock sucked. Carl like to stuff pussy with his prick. That was his bag. But Stan preferred the feel of a velvety tongue against the underside of his prick. He liked to have pretty lips wrapped around his shaft. It was a real pleasure to teach the young girls around the pool how to really satisfy a man. And it was pure joy to humiliate these over privileged broads by getting them down on their knees in front of him.
When Carl had told him about Sue Anderson, Stan's cock had jumped like a hungry fish leaping for a fly. Carl's description of the full bodied redhead had left nothing to the imagination. And it had given Stan the single clue he had needed to gain her not-so-willing cooperation. Stan had known right away what he was going to get from this red-haired bitch. Like Carl, Stan had watched and watched, mentally stripping the suit off Sue again and again. Well, here she was, naked as the day she was born, on her knees in front of him, taking his prick in her hungry mouth.
"Suck it," Stan whispered softly, even though there was no longer any need to give Sue orders or instructions. He guided her head back and forth, back and forth, in a steady fucking motion. His hips moved in opposition, thrusting his prick deep into her sucking mouth, then withdrawing it almost all the way but not quite, then thrusting it back in until it hit the back of her throat.
She was burning up as she took his cock in her mouth. Her entire lush body was knotted and writhing as she sucked and sucked on the tower of gristle between her jaws. The head poked and jabbed the back of her throat with every thrust of Stan's hip. Then the hot meat would slide out from between her lips until they slipped into the groove just behind the bulb of his cock. The pip of Stan's fingers in her long red hair was painful, but only added to her excitement, since it made her feel she was being forced. She had never been forced to have any kind of sex, until Carl had ravished her in the shower a week before. Now she was being forced to commit thin degrading act, and the fact that she was being forced seemed to increase her disgusting, perverted excitement.
She wanted more. She wanted over and more of that hot cock in her. She rammed her heed down on it. She slammed it down her throat, ignoring the gagging this triggered. Tears streaked her cheeks, but they weren't real tears of misery, they were tears of lust and pension. Her chin slick and cold with spitting, she pumped and pumped her mouth on his cock. She swallowed wave after wave of saliva. She reached up and fondled Stan's heavy balls and felt them draw up tight against his body. She felt his muscles contract, and redoubled her efforts.
Then, as his hips hammered forward one more time, harder than ever, terror struck her. God, what was she doing? What was about to happen?
Too late, she tried to draw back. She tried to escape the blasts she knew were coming. But Stan had anticipated that. They always did that the first time. They always tried to escape having their mouths and bellies filled with his cum. But he never let them. He knew, once they had tasted cum they would come back for it, time after time. His thick fluid was like nectar to them. This mature broad was no different from the young little cunts he usually indoctrinated.
He rammed his ready-to-erupt cock deep into Sue's mouth, and held her head and drove against her with his hips.
Sue's eyes bugged with horror, but she was helplessly trapped by his ruthless grip on her hair. She felt a tremor run the length of his cock, and suddenly her mouth was flooded with the taste and scent of semen. Her head was swimming in the stench. Thick, gooey fluid spurted into her mouth, poured down her throat in cummy waves.
And her own body reacted like a fire that has had gasoline thrown on it. Flames roared through her, flames of a stupendous orgasm. Her thighs slammed shut on the hand in her pussy, and her vagina contracted and pulsed around the fingers she had crammed deep into it. Every fiber of her body was blazing with her coming as she took what felt like gallons of steaming semen down her throat and into her stomach.
"Mmmmrrrggghhh," she gurgled around the prick jammed into her throat. She wrapped one arm around Stan's muscular, hairy thighs and hauled him tight against her passion-twisted body.
She swallowed, and swallowed and swallowed, ingesting the copious waves of cum and saliva, and sucked and sucked to draw the last lingering dribbles of fluid from the cock in her mouth.
Stan ached with the delicious ache of drained balls. His head tipped back, he savored the exquisite agony of total sexual satisfaction. He loved having the last of his semen actually sucked out of his cock. Then he let go of the woman kneeling in front of him.
Sue spat the shrinking prick out of her mouth, and leaned weakly against the lifeguard. She still had her arm wrapped around his legs, or otherwise she probably would have fallen flat on her face. Her stomach burned with its load of cum, and her mouth and nose were still engulfed in the clinging taste and smell of semen. Her body was racked with ferocious shivers that she fought to control but couldn't.
At last she shoved away from Stan, hauled herself up and collapsed wearily on the bench at the back of the cubicle. She slumped, her arms on her knees, her head hanging. Her legs were sprawled open vulgarly as she stared at the floor. A drop of spit and cum spattered to the floor from her chin, forming a thick starburst spot in front of her eyes.
Insolently, Stan took a towel off one of the hooks and used it to wipe the saliva and cum off his prick and dry his black pubic bush. Then he tossed the towel aside.
"Thanks," he snorted as he picked up his jock strap.
Sue watched dully as he fucked his flaccid tool into the cup of his supporter. "Thanks?" she repeated.
"For the blow job," he explained.
"Bastard. Get out of here."
"Sure," Stan agreed easily, pulling on his swim suit.
"Don't you ever bother me again," she warned, her tone deadly.
"See you around the pool, Mrs. Anderson," he replied, letting himself out.
When he was gone, Sue reached blindly for a towel. Just as she was about to wipe her face, she smelled his semen on it. Furious, she hurled it against the wall. Then she put her face, still cum and saliva sticky, into her hands. She wanted to cry, but couldn't. She was too sick and drained.
"God, Jerry, what could I do?" she wailed softly. "What could I do?"
Then she felt a twinge of anger. If Jerry had been performing his "husbandly duties" maybe she wouldn't have enjoyed the vile act with Stan so damn much.
Wrapping herself in a towel, she went to take a second shower.