Rhonda Baker lay prone across the queen-sized, walnut-framed water bed on her belly, her arms bent at the elbows, her beautiful young face resting in her hands while she watched the Democratic convention on her television set perched atop her antique dresser. Politics had never appealed to her sense of justice, but on a hot summer afternoon the paunchy-bellied frustrated lobbyists and their prissy wives parading around in sexless shirtwaist dressed before the cameras, helped pass the time and add a few laughs on an otherwise uneventful day.
Her shapely buttocks, covered only by a brief black bikini, jutted up proudly behind her at the base of her long tapering back and her legs were bent at the knees, her ankles clapping together in mid-air. The soft August breeze blew the curtains aside and poured into the room, whisking across her nearly naked back like the tender touch of a lover, and the sun slanted to make golden stripes across the burgundy bedspread.
And a dreary day it was, too, for Bob, her fiancee was on his way to the airport, packed and ready to fly to Minneapolis for an interview with Honeywell Corporation, one of the best-paying corporations a fresh young executive such as Bob could hope to work for. Travel, fringe benefits… for wives, too, Rhonda thought with a smirk, hoping that unlike so many of her recently graduated and married friends, she would not fall prey to the wife-supports-the-husband-til-he-finds-a-job-he-likes routine. Sometimes that took years, and Rhonda was not the modern liberated, professionally-aggressive female. College, with its grueling routine of cramming for exams, trying to please art teacher's tastes and get a passing grade had cured her of aspirations. Now, at twenty-three, she was perfectly content lying in the sun in the afternoons, watching television, dressing and waiting for Bob to come by. Sure… soon she'd have to look for a job, but in the time being, she would indulge her own pleasures. Life was too short as it was…
The red haired lovely lay on her bed, dumbly watching the flickering screen, none of the political ploys and inter-party politics sinking into her pretty skull. Tonight would be a long night, she knew. The first night since Bob had left for Minneapolis. Ten more sex-less nights in front of her before she could cuddle up into the protective circle of his strong arms and let him please her. Rhonda let out a long, heartless sigh. Ten days in a cold bed alone was an eternity! Fortunately, her sister Sharon had come to stay with her for three weeks that overlapped Bob's absence, and not by coincidence.
Sharon… Where was she now? wondered Rhonda dimly. Certainly the neighborhood was safe enough on a weekday afternoon with the playground and community swimming pool close by, for a pubescent thirteen year old to wander around unescorted.
But then one could never tell with all those crazies lurking the streets… Hmmm… four o'clock, mused Rhonda, watching her digital alarm clock slip to the hour.
Suddenly a smile broke out on the older sister's face. Maybe her little sister had met a boy, ridden off on his bicycle to the hamburger hang-out, and was sipping a soda out of her shared straw… Like a scene from one of those corny 1950's posters you saw in all the head-shops downtown. Sharon would be an easy shot for some young boy. She was a knockout with her platinum-tresses that hung half way down her back. Fresh as a model, Sharon was one of those girls who always appeared clean and scrubbed in every situation and who carried herself with a feminine grace that often put her older sister to shame. Part of this could be ascribed to her unusual hair. No one in the Baker family had been able to figure out where it had come from, though a few guessed their Irish grandmother might have jumped the fence once or twice, as the old saying goes… something old Grandpa Baker never told his kids when they sat on his knee and listened to family stories…
Sharon also dressed very stylishly, too, changing frequently to fit her mood. She had been a perfect baby, and now she was a perfect young lady. In the last year she had suddenly sprouted up quite tall for her age, and then some, with enticing young breasts, a tiny waist and flat, flat, tummy, and long sleek slender, but well-turned legs which seemed to retain their tan longer than most girls' did. Added to this was her long Jean Harlow hair but a prettier oval face than Jean had ever aspired to, with pert little upturned nose, bright blue eyes, and a small but sultry mouth. Yes, her little sister was a real princess.
But Rhonda was not jealous of the girl, for her own attributes brought a jealous chagrin from most women on the streets.
Perhaps, thought Rhonda, if Bob were to have known my little sister better – thought of her as someone other than my little innocent sister – he might have had eyes for her.
Bob… what a sweetheart! Ten days would be unbearable, thought Rhonda with a frustrated whimper, as absentmindedly she watched a politician peck his wife on the cheek in front of the television cameras. God, just thinking about Bob and his big hard cock made her want to close the door and satisfy herself right there in front of the whole Democratic party.
Then the mental image of Bob's huge, warmly pulsating penis came into her mind, as she dully watched a presidential nominee take to the podium. She tried to concentrate on the Southerners' speech, listening to him rant about unemployment and the rising cost of living, but the mental picture of that long, hard hunk of maleness refused to go away. She kept seeing his thick shaft of virile flesh vividly, as if she could reach out and touch it. The little tingling sensations had increased now and she could feel her nipples harden beneath the bikini top she wore.
Now this is silly, she chided herself primly. He only left this afternoon.
But the vision of Bob's long hard cock remained in her mind, and it was joined now by another image, a scene from their engagement party. Lying there, she remembered the occurrence clearly, very clearly and graphically…
It had been a rainy night in April, and they had just come from a dinner party at the home of one of Bob's ex-fraternity brothers who'd married a sorority sister of Rhonda's. They had laughed over old times, consuming plenty of wine as they reminisced, and she and Bob had had their share – and then some. They had departed shortly after midnight for the drive back to the Baker's home.
She had sat very close to Bob on the drive, twirling the engagement ring – which she still wore – feeling closer to him mentally than she ever had before. She even put her hand on his leg, stroking it gently but without any real sexual connotation. When they approached the lookout point where young lovers were known to spend many an evening overlooking the city's lights, Rhonda, feeling the effects of the wine, didn't object, she was in a responsive mood, and the idea of parking with her fiancee for a little light pre-marital kissing and petting did not seem in the least wrong with her.
Bob put his arm around her and drew her tight against him the moment the car was stopped and the headlights switched off. He kissed her then, their mouths fusing with the ease of lovers, and she opened her lips almost eagerly to accept his probing tongue. Their tongues met and tasted one another, exchanging a lover's kiss. Bob's hands were restless on her back and shoulders, moving back and forth, up and down, around and over her low-cut white silk dress. Rhonda felt an almost overpowering surge of desire at the nearness, the intoxicating male odor of the man she loved; his kisses were eliciting a full and total response inside the bride-to-be, and when his moving hands gradually worked their way around to lightly cup her firm full breasts, she made no effort to stop him from doing so. Her mother had warned her against allowing Bob to become familiar before their wedding night, (oh, if Mommy knew what her number one daughter was doing with her fiancee now!) but the closeness she felt for him at that magic moment transcended all the parental warnings and instilled taboos of her Irish, Catholic upbringing.
He began to caress her lushly ripened breasts in earnest then, as his eager tongue probed in and out of her opened mouth. God, his gentle touch felt so good on her! She wrapped her hands in his hair, kissing him even more passionately, and then his fingers had dipped inside the low-cut front of her dress to slide inside her bra. The contact of his hand on her naked flesh thrilled Rhonda beyond recall, and before she knew it, she was allowing him to unbutton the back of her dress and slip the garment down over her shoulders. His deft fingers found the catches on her bra, unsnapped them, and she felt a cool rush of air against her now-erect nipples as her firm white breasts were fully exposed to Bob's hungry gaze.
He began to stroke her naked young breasts gently with his palms, rolling his hands over her perfectly-formed voluptuous mounds before bringing them up to massage the hardened nipples. Taking the taut, dark-brown buds between the thumb and forefinger, he tweaked them into a quivering rigidity. Rhonda moaned with increasing fervor as Bob's caresses wrung soft cries of delight from her throat; little shivers of arousal began to course through her, and she had felt a warm wetness up between her legs speeding from her excitedly throbbing cunt.
Even when Bob's head dipped down and his wetly heated lips encircled one of her erect little nipples, tongue swirling round and round the goose-bumped areola, Rhonda didn't feel any panic. Even though this was the first time she had bared her breasts to a man, or had their nakedness kissed, the thought never entered her mind that what she was doing might lead to uncontrollable passion. The young girl was with the man she loved, and she felt safe, felt warm and somewhat drowsy, and very excited as his gently sucking mouth moved like a hungry child's on her soft, pliant breasts.
But then, suddenly, one of Bob's hands left her ripely quivering breasts and moved on down to stroke her thighs where the hem of her dress had slipped up. His fingers hungrily traversed the silky soft skin of her inner thighs, then moved upward, sliding the dress still higher until the tips of his searching fingers were resting on her warmly moistened cuntal mound and the white silk of her panties were glistening in the pale moonlight which shone in through the car's windshield. Only then did Rhonda feel the first stirrings of panic for Bob had groaned and clamped his lips hard around her rigid nipple while his other hand squeezed and kneaded the resilient flesh of her naked young breasts. The squirming young redhead felt confused, uncertain; she wanted to be rid of his moist warm mouth on her bosom, his lusting touch on her bare flesh – and yet she didn't want to be free of it. For a moment, she was undecided, and that was time enough for Bob to bunch her dress at her waist and begin caressing the smooth, flat plane of her exposed belly.
His fingers had slipped inside the elastic waistband of her panties almost before Rhonda realized what was happening, and suddenly he was tugging the flimsy material down, down over her pubic mound, sliding her panties from under her nakedly quivering buttocks. The moist heat of his palm pressed against her hair-covered pussy mound, and rippling waves of erotic pleasure threatened to blank the young girl's mind completely of the consequences of his actions. Gently, he insinuated his outstretched middle finger into the soft, warm cuntal slit up between her thighs, parting her moistly sensitive cunt lips and probing at the thin hymeneal membrane which gave mute testimony to her unsullied reputation. Meanwhile he was using his thumb to tweak the sensitive nub of her clitoris, teasing over it again and again and causing a sharp cry of commingled fear and intense pleasure to bubble out of her throat. Her hands in his hair tightened, pulling his head down harder against her breasts even as her voice was repudiating her actions by moaning, "No, no, no!" over and over.
A whispering, unmistakable sound had filled the car at that moment – the sound of a zipper being pulled hurriedly down as Bob's hand left her breast momentarily. Her eyes fluttered open in alarm and, in the moonlight, she saw for the first time an erect male organ quivering in all its awesome passion. Abruptly, the fear routed her lust so that there was no longer a struggle going on inside her; the sight of his menacing blood-filled cock decided matters for the terrified young redhead. She had to stop him right now!
"No!" she cried, trying to twist away from him on the seat. "Bob, for God's sake, don't! Wait a couple more months and we'll be married!"
"Please, baby, please," he mumbled, his voice thick with the lust that was reflected in his dark eyes. His hand was stoking the full length of his thick monstrous penis now, she could see that, and her efforts to free herself became more panicky. Her aroused young fiancee was too strong for her, however, and before she could escape she had been forced back and down across the car seat. It was then Rhonda felt the hot head of his lust thickened penis touch her thigh, and she jumped from the electric contact of pulsating hardness against her fevered skin. Groaning in his uncontrollable passion, Bob began forcing her now tightly closed legs apart, and the frantically squirming girl could feel his great pulsating cock trembling like an impossibly large wedge being driven into and splitting a tinder-dry log. As he rammed it repeatedly against her partially opened thighs.
And then, as if in the throes of some consuming pain, Bob put both of his big hands on her nakedly quivering breasts, squeezing them painfully before lowering his head and planting hot, moist kisses upon the twin mounds, all the while murmuring like a madman, "Oh, oh, ohhhhhh, God, baby… Oh, Jesus! I'm going to cum, honey. I can't help it!"
She felt his hotly throbbing penis begin to jerk out of control against her soft white thighs, felt a hot jetting spurt splash against the innocent folds of her pussy – another, and another, a whole series of eruptions that flooded her cuntal area and thighs with sticky semen that flowed down to pool on the car seat beneath her. Bob had been mewling and convulsively, twitching above her, planting those hot, liquid kisses on her still quivering breasts as his seed emptied out on his wildly ejaculating cock onto her naked flesh while she tried to force him off of her…
Well that had been the beginning, she thought, as she now lay on the squelching, gurgling water bed, staring the famous Senator from Minnesota in the eye on the television set. What would you think, dear Senator, she silently asked the gesticulating man on the screen, if you knew I was laying her on my bed ready to play with myself? The thought was lewd, indecent and just too enticing to resist! Would you like to watch me? she thought as she flipped over on her back and let her hands roam over the hillocks of her curvaceous and golden tan body, the sixty-odd year old face in front of her transforming into that of her twenty-five year old lover now back in the Senator's home state of Minnesota. With a twinge of delightful irony, Rhonda found herself filled with the same kind of tingling arousal she had felt on that night with Bob. And oh, how varied and wonderful had their sex life become since that virginal night! If you only knew, Mamma…
Her mind was beginning to drift with the same kind of mindless excitement, the same attitude of not caring about the consequences as her mind carried her on to further heights of sexual fantasy – to the feel of Bob's warmly pulsing penis inside her cunt, to the touch of his lips and hands on her naked flesh. She began to squirm in the growing passion on the bed, and her wetly aroused cunt began to secrete its liquid excitement, moistening her panties as it had that night in the car. There was a tender aching lip between her legs, and the need for release of her ever-increasing passion was becoming too strong!
Involuntarily, the young redhead's hands began to move down again along her tautly rippling belly. Knowing what was about to happen, she forced them up, but they immediately went back down again as if they were controlled by the hands of an invisible robot. The inside of her mouth was dry, and she ran her tongue over her lips several times in an effort to rid herself of the arid taste. Oh God, this feels so fantastic, she thought dimly. If Bob were here now I'd fuck his head off! Oh, to feel him inside of me, so hard and so anxious.
But in that moment she didn't care what she was working herself up to. Her hands were moving sensuously around to her front now, moving across the full firmness of her pliant young breasts. Gradually, she began opening and closing her legs as she massaged her sensitive mounds of warm flesh, the sound of the babbling politicians and their insipid wives seeming to consume her very being. She watched, fascinated, her own fingers began plucking at the snaps of her bikini bra top; but, finding them too time consuming, gave up her attempt. Her hands traveled almost greedily up and down her body now, over the bra-encased mounds of her breasts, down to her throbbing pubic mound, across the smoothness of her taut little brown belly.
Rhonda was a tall young woman, with long slender model's legs and fully rounded hips and breasts, and her hands seemed to be seeking knowledge of every inch of her proportionately lovely flesh. She ran her nail teasingly over the area up between her thighs, arching her long limbs up and spreading them open to the delicious, forbidden delights which her caresses were instilling within her body. Her mouth was parted, and her brain was whirling with the heat of her growing lust; she flailed her head from side to side on the over-sized pillow, her long, red hair swirling in a tangled cascade of shimmering loveliness. The magazine she'd been reading was kicked off the bed, as her hands continued their mad pace up and down, down and around, teasing her now-fevered flesh into even more intense arousal, her brain alive with lewd thoughts of her fiancee's long hard penis sawing in and out of her wetly throbbing cunt…
Rhonda arched her back, her hands moving behind and under her to quickly unsnap the catches of her bikini top; she had to have her breasts free, had to touch the rigid nipples without the encumbrance of clothing. She pulled the top off, tossed it to the floor beside the bed, and her hands hungrily engulfed the soft warmth of her alabaster mounds. Slowly, rhythmically, she began to roll the nipples back and forth, squeezing them and then releasing them, squeezing, then releasing…
The entire time she was thinking: No, no, this is wrong, it's sick! Rhonda Baker, masturbating like a teenage girl after she's read one of her daddy's sex books. But God, it feels good!
Her right hand left her nakedly quivering breast and moved slowly down over her stomach to the elastic waistband of her panties. In spite of her self-recrimination, her shame at what she was doing, she wasn't able to stop herself. There was only her urgency now, frantic need for release from the ever building whirlpools of passions inside her shamelessly aroused body.
She was drawing her bikini bottoms down, drawing them sensuously over her pubic mound while her other hand continued to stroke the nipple of one breast. She raised up on the bed, pulling the wisp of a garment down to her ankles, her eyes tightly shut, and then pulling them off completely so that she was completely naked. She lay back again, one hand on her breast, the other stroking first one thigh, then the other, carefully avoiding for the moment the moist inferno of lust between her legs. Then, when she could stand the pressure no longer, her eager hand shot to the hotly pulsating folds of her pussy, and pressed against the wet sensitive flesh there and she brought her legs up off the bed and splayed them wide apart. Her tight little pussy was opened wide now as she gently eased her outstretched finger into her wetly pulsating cunt.
"Ooooooohhhh!" she moaned as her eager hand shot to the hotly pulsating folds of her tight little pussy!
She imagined it was Bob's hand, his finger touching her there, stroking her down there. She imagined it was he who was now caressing her hair-lined cuntal lips until they seemed to be swollen with blood, until her clitoris was as hard as his cock was hard. She found her sensitive nerve bud with the tip of her searching finger and began to tease it back and forth, running the nail around the quivering tip until the delight caused her to jackknife her legs back up against her chest, mashing her breasts flat. Her buttocks, white moons of the softest, most flawless flesh imaginable, jerked and twisted in completely wantonness under her fingering, and the resulting erotic sensations caused the sweat to bead and shine on her lust-grimacing face, matting her hematin hair to her scalp.
OH, if only Bob were here! she groaned, through the daze of passion which controlled her brain. I wish he was here playing with my pussy… I wish he was going to put his penis inside my cunt… and fuck me, hard, harder until he came and so did I… oh God, I want to cum so bad, so bad… Bob, Bob, hurry home, baby.
Faster and faster, Rhonda's finger fucked into her moistly clasping cunt, deliberately teasing her clitoris and cuntal opening until her orgasm was only moments away. Her hips thrashed and pounded the waterbed, making it dip and sway in waves in rhythm to her own waves of pain-pleasure coursing through her sensitive flesh. There was no guilt, no shame for her in that frozen period of time; there was only the wonderful, rapturous feelings of impending climax which were filling her very soul.
Her Irish Catholic Mamma was no threat to her now.