God, Kitty was a sexy broad, Stephan thought as he forced himself to keep his eyes off her huge jiggling titties and curvaceous asscheeks.
He'd never seen such luscious tits on a girl her age before, and his mouth watered at the thought of what it would be like to suck her little nipples till they grew hot and throbbing in his mouth. Jesus Christ, he caught himself, he would just have to keep his mind off of it until he got her safely back to the studio.
But Stephan was all too aware of Kitty's body next to him in the car to ignore her, even though she sat next to the opposite door. She'd made no effort to pull down her skirt when she got into the car. Her wellshaped thighs were really something to look at, he thought, and the hugely billowing young titties beneath her sweater gave ample evidence that she had not bothered to wear a bra. From the looks of things, he'd be willing to bet that she wasn't wearing any panties either. Despite his efforts these thoughts and images of the nude movie film of this provocative high school girl brought stirring life to Stephan's cock.
He knew he was tensing up, knew his cock was beginning to swell painfully…but hell, she was only a kid, what the hell did she know?
God, that's all he needed now-a hard-on! And with this young girl, too. 18 years old!
It was he who broke the silence. "Is acting a summertime job for you, Kitty?"
"Oh, no. I've been an actress since I was four years old. My mother started me doing commercials as soon as I could talk. After that I started doing a few shots here and there in soap operas and then just this year I started this other business." She pulled her hairbrush out of her leather handbag and dragged it through her wealth of straight blonde hair, wincing as she struggled with a snarl.
"What do you mean by 'this business?'" His curiosity overcame his reasoning, as if foreknowledge already held the answer for him.
"Fuck films."
"W-what?" Stephan couldn't believe her brazen attitude.
"Yeah. My dad's the one who got me involved in this business. He's my agent. Money's good. The way my dad and me got it all figured out, I'll be able to retire when I'm twenty-one." Her red polished nails scraped the bottom of her handbag till she found a stick of gum which she tore in half. Chewing with an open mouth, she carefully wrapped the other half in its wrapper and tucked it back in purse. She crossed her arms in her lap.
"Your father is your agent?" Stephan's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Yeah. You square or somethin'?"
I'm beginning to wonder, thought the young husband to himself. I can't believe my brother is risking his business and career for such a wild youngster as this! He must be crazy! Christ, I wish she'd pull her skirt down, it's nearly up to her waist now.
"You married?" He turned to her, just as she put on her heavy sunglasses. She was beautiful.
"Yeah, I'm married."
"Do you and your wife fuck alot?"
"Do we what?"
"Get it on. You know," she said sarcastically, pronouncing each word with articulation. "Fuck. F-U-C-K. Fuck!"
Stephan could feel his face redden, "Yes, we fuck."
"Are you a swinger?" And then noticing his indecision at the traffic light, she pointed a long tanned arm to the right. "Take the next exit from there a right onto Blossomtree lane, first house on the left."
Stephan glanced over his shoulder to check the evening traffic, which for some miraculous reason, was all headed in the opposite direction.
Good thing, too, he thought. That was an illegal turn and all I need is to get stopped with this young piece of ass in my car. She'd probably proposition the policeman.
"You didn't answer my question," she insisted, snapping her gum.
"Depends on what you mean by swinger."
"Come on, ol' man. You know, like do you take naked movies of her? Do you like to make it with other couples or what?"
"Well…we…"
"You ain't had enough pussy to sink your cock into lately, I can tell."
She smiled, resting her blonde head on the headrest, staring at the man twice her age.
"How can you tell?" He felt himself blushing, and being all too conscious of his condition that throbbed unforgivingly in his pants, he twitched in the driver's seat.
Now she shrugged and gave a knowing little smile. "You're too uptight.
You'd be more relaxed…if you'd been fucking regularly."
"What?" It had been a long time since Stephan had been around teenagers and he hadn't realized that their language could be as lewd as an adult's.
"You've got a hard-on. You had a hard-on ever since you set those big brown eyes on my tits and my cunt. Didn't you, now?"
Stephan was beside himself. He'd never met such a brazen female in his life, and at the age of eighteen. Christ! What's she going to be like when she's old enough to drink?
Without a warning, she reached over and touched the bulge of his cock in his trousers. "Mmmmmmm." The contact created the same result in his loins as a match struck in a gasoline-vapored chamber. She left her hand, not teasing him, not caressing, merely resting her finger on the throbbing lump created by his desire. Kitty's eyes were locked on his face; the intensity of her glance was something he could feel. She seemed to be asking something-and receiving silent answers. Stephan was aware that he was driving very slowly now-the vehicle was barely moving, crawling along the off ramp. His breath caught with the next comment from the girl. "If you hadn't seen me you wouldn't be all turned on, would you?"
Stephan had to force the words out of his suddenly dry throat. "I guess not." He kept his eyes on the road, watching out for any highway patrol man who might find his driving unacceptable for freeways.
"Then…I'm responsible, huh?" She looked over her shoulder out the rear window, then glanced ahead of them. "Keep driving," she ordered.
She had some plan, obviously; her actions were unmistakable. Through a haze of uncertainty and growing heat, Stephan felt her hand leave his leg and begin fumbling with his belt. "Take a deep breath," Kitty said.
He did as instructed, and she quickly unfastened his belt buckle. A second later his zipper scraped, and her knowledgeable hand and fingers released his heavily throbbing cock from the imprisoning confines of his shorts. He groaned deep in his throat and she stroked it a couple of times.
I didn't ask for this, Gillian. Honest I didn't! the young husband implored his wife silently. I didn't ask for her to start egging me on like this. It just happened. Honest!
"My…your cock's beautiful!" she said breathlessly. "So big! So hard!" She lovingly pumped it for a few seconds, then rolled it like a thick cigar between her fingers. The reflected light from the dashboard showed her hand moving up and down on his long white prick. God, how he had wanted a girl to do that! It was almost more than he could stand.
Already, even though only thirty or forty seconds had elapsed, he could feel the gathering cum in his balls. The girl was an expert; she knew what she was doing. He groaned, and his breath began coming faster and faster.
He was so caught up in the delicious sensation that Kitty had to make the request twice.
"What?" he muttered, not really sure he comprehended.
"Move the seat back further," she repeated.
Stephan mentally knew what was coming next. Eagerly, he reached down on his left for the seat release and pushed with his back. They slid all the way back. He was forced to drive with his arms almost straight out in front of him.
Kitty glanced out the rear window again-looked again to see where they were. "Take the next turn to the right," she ordered. "That street is under construction. Just keep driving. Tell me if you see any cars coming from behind." She bent forward and her hot lips slipped wetly down over the head of his heavily pulsing cock.
"Aaaaahhhhh!" It was a moan of delight wrenched from his soul. How long he had waited for his cock to be sucked! He felt his prick give another jerk as if it were alive and independent of him. He tried to will it limp again, to banish the lewd thoughts swirling in his bourbon-filled head, but it remained hugely swollen, growing with every flick of the shameless eighteen-year-old girl's hotly licking tongue.
This is wrong, his tortured mind screamed. I'm a married man…what would Gillian say? I can't go through with it! But he was unable to stop. Nothing had felt so beautiful before. Her tongue flicked hotly at the eyelike opening of his cock and then ran maddening circles around the head. She had wrapped her lips around his cock so that her mouth felt like a soft, hotly clamping cunt ring, wonderfully moistened. With her free hand, she reached down into his shorts and began gently squeezing his balls in rhythm to her teasing little sucking movements.
Up and down her mouth moved, gently bobbing like an oil pump pulling precious liquid from the subterranean depths. Stephan was about to go out of his mind from the sensation. The girl had said to keep driving, but it was almost impossible to do that because of what he felt. He couldn't have been traveling more than three or four miles an hour when Kitty, as if sensing his impending cum, began taking the cock deep into her throat. Faster, faster, faster her head moved until Stephan could stand it no longer. He arched his back and raised his ass off the seat in an effort to fuck it further down her throat. She took it all, and as the head of his prick began swelling to enormous size, Kitty started sucking voraciously, interspersing the vacuum with occasional little nibbles. He glanced down and could see her lips pulled out grotesquely as they clung to his wildly fucking cock. He continued to fuck up to meet her, and she continued to take him. His mouth was swollen shut and long, hoarse pants of breath whistled through it. His prick felt as though it weighed a ton-a ton of hot molten lava restlessly surging below the surface of a volcano. He knew he was on the verge of cumming and felt he should prepare her, but as her motions became more rapid and the suction increased, he suddenly knew it didn't matter. She obviously had done this before-Christ, probably a thousand times in those movies she acted in: she was an expert. The juice gathered, seethed, and boiled. The eruption was imminent. Low guttural noises of delight came rumbling out of his throat. He was cumming…cumming… almost there. Almost. Now…now! Now! The first hot spurts of cum boiled out of his balls and screamed along the duct leading to the head of his cock. "Aaaaahhhh…hahhhhhh." His cry was meant to give her some warning, but the sound merely increased her hungrily sucking frenzy. The hot cum soared out of his cock in great gushing quantities, and she went on sucking furiously as he shot everything he had into her wonderfully hot, greedy mouth. And still he came, as weeks, years, of pent-up frustration of wanting, yearning for his wife to make him cum with her mouth manifested themselves in almost half a cup of the elixir of love.
She used her tongue to tease, her mouth and lips to suck, until his prick slowly began to deflate. It was as though she felt it necessary to suck every last drop of whitely scalding cum from his balls. She continued to work until he was sure he was getting ready for another erection, then she suddenly stopped.
Stephan gave a mumbled sigh of happy release, and abruptly became aware that his car-light on, motor running-was standing motionless right in the middle of the street. Kitty withdrew her cum-dripping lips from his cock, then kissed its head which was inflamed from her nibbling and smeared with her lipstick. She slithered up until she was enclosed in his arms. Then she kissed him wetly; her tongue darted and licked around his mouth. He could taste the alien taste of his own cum in her mouth. Kitty's face was slippery-glistening from the cum juices and streaked with her lipstick. She scooted back over to her own side of the car, opened her purse, and carefully began to wipe her mouth with a kleenex as he began driving again.
"Just around the corner-to the right."
He turned onto the street where she lived as she glanced over toward him, "Do I look presentable? I mean you can't tell that I've been sucking you off?"
He inspected her face, and nodded.
She smiled as he stopped in front of her house and started to get out of the car to open the door for her. "Don't bother," she said quickly and slid out. "I'll be back in a flash." As her skirt flared up, he realized he had been right; she wasn't wearing panties, after all. The crevice of her smooth young asscheeks was a dark inviting line at the top of her white thighs.
Stephan saw her father part the curtains of their ranch-style home and stare into the dusk.
"That's my dad," she called over her shoulder. "He's a real groovy dude-just like you." She waved over her shoulder at him.
Stephan got back in the car. He could hear her laughter until the front door closed behind her excessively wiggling little ass. He leaned forward, resting his head on the steering wheel while his sweating palms gripped it hard until his knuckles turned white.
He could only sigh in contentment. Stephan had never felt so relaxed and peaceful in his life, except for those little twinges of guilt that kept clouding his ecstasy. He knew that he should feel guilty now, but the stirrings of remorse and shame were not forthcoming. He only felt like a satisfied, virile male, one who had been satisfied by a woman.
He felt a certain power, a certain pride in the fact that there, now, he had proven that his desire for oral fucking had been right, and not something darkly evil as his wife seemed to think.
His wife. The thought of Gillian echoed in his mind, and a small part of his brain tried to make the self-deprecation come; but he fought the thoughts away and he simply sat there, taking in the musk smell and the permeating odor of their consummated lust.
His head was still resting on the steering wheel when Kitty emerged from the house, a grin on her youthful face.
"Look what I got!" she beamed, sliding into the car seat. "There's gonna be a party tonight!" She held up a baggie full of dark brown organic matter. "There's enough here for everybody to get loaded. It's the only way to film a fuck movie."
She put the bag in her purse and sat back in the seat as if it were the most natural thing in the world that she was on her way to be fucked and sucked while a movie camera whirled away in the background.
Gillian Edwards, smiling happily and with a warm glow spreading through her from the Martinis, sat back on the divan in the living room and sipped the remaining liquid from her glass. She stretched languidly, thinking, I feel so good tonight, so warm, loved and happy. I'm lucky, a very lucky woman, to have a wonderful husband-good provider and a very, very, very good cocksman.
She giggled softly, and a warm, pleasant ache began between her tender young thighs. She sighed then, squeezing her legs tightly together, wishing Stephan hadn't gone over to his brother's studio tonight. They could have had another drink together, and then gone to bed, as they did on Sunday nights, and fuck for hours and hours, slow and sweet and good. That was the kind of mood she was in tonight, the mood to be screwed very, very slowly for a long, long time.
Well, Stephan would be home at ten or so and they could fuck then. She would have to content herself with a book-and, yes why not, having another drink. She was feeling a little audacious tonight, and even though she knew her absolute limit without getting drunk was three drinks in one evening, she decided that, by golly, she was going to make herself a third!
She mixed the drink in the kitchen; so as not to mess up the bar that the cleaning lady had scrubbed that week, humming softly and a little intoxicatedly.
Well, I think I'll see if there is any good reading material around here for me to pass away the evening until Stephan gets home. Guess I'll check out that Book of the Month Club selection they sent me-the one I wrote and told them to please not send. Just as well, she sighed, if Stephan is going to take up photography. I don't want to be the stupid housewife stuck at home. It'll do me good to read some best sellers-give me something to talk to other people about.
She slipped into her slippers and padded her way down the hallway to Stephan's study-secluded at the end of the house. He often kept his documents and research materials in that room, just in case weekend decisions on a business deal had to be made. Let's see, she put her long finger to her lips, where did I put…oh, of course! Right where I put all my mail-on top of the bookshelf. Standing on her tiptoes, the petite housewife reached overhead to the top shelf, her fingers touching a packet of something, too bulky to be a book. Four fingers edged along the length of the shelf and then she drew them away, a cloud of dust filming the air. "Oh God!" she said, aloud. "I'm going to have to talk to the cleaning lady about this!" She reached up once more for the thick brown envelope now visible at the end of the shelf. Her fingers could touch it, her eyes could see it, but her legs wouldn't stretch that far, so she pulled her husband's swivel chair over a few feet and climbed atop it.
Ah! Finally. She removed an envelope from on top of the book packet and set it aside, thoughtlessly. The staples flew as Gillian ripped open the package, reassuring herself that reading would be a good time passer till Stephan finally came home. "Oh, no!" she frowned. "I didn't want that!" She threw the book on the floor in disgust. Stupid people, she thought, can't even keep orders straight. Well, I'm sure there's something else of interest up here-this is where everything gets tossed.
Gillian's eyes scanned the length of the shelf. Hmmmmm, wonder what this is, she thought, staring at the envelope. Some mail I didn't see?
Looks interesting. She flipped it over to see "Fragile" stamped in official black ink. Must be business cassettes she reasoned. Probably old letters he'd dictated to his secretary for the past six months.
It was tempting. Gillian always stayed clear of her husband's work, never wanting to involve herself to the degree where she had to take many phone messages or get in that abominable rut of typing letters.
But with all this talk of film-making lately, so what? She stepped down off the chair, envelope in hand, and brushed the footprints from the royal blue weave.
She sipped again from her martini. The liquor was beginning to affect her now, in several different ways. Giddy and careless, she sat down at her husband's desk and opened the unsealed envelope. It always gave her a little thrill to see or hear about bits or evidence of his business success-like a peek into his brain, a part she never witnessed otherwise. Her ardor of a few minutes earlier, instead of waning, seemed to have gained intensity, so that she felt a moistening down in her pussy, flowing out to dampen her thighs; and she felt too, a boldness that she had never expected before, an irrational desire to do something she had never done before-involve herself in her husband's business.
Impulsively, then, stifling another slightly tipsy giggle, Gillian reached out and grasped the envelope. Her fingers fumbled at the sealed flap, finally got it open; and then she was drawing out what appeared to be cassettes out of an instant movie camera. It was a strange way to dictate a business letter. Which made her even more curious about her husband's affairs. She held them in her lap, letting them lie there, on the warm velvet mound of her lower belly, as she drained the last of the martini. Then she drew the viewer, which Stephan had set on his desk, towards her and flipped them into the slot, turning the machine on and waiting for the blank screen to come on.
Her first reaction was one of shocked horror. She blinked rapidly several times, her eyes held transfixed by the full color carnality which she saw in the viewer's screen. Her brain was spinning with the combined forces of startlement and undiluted gin. Lord, they were really fucking!
Gotta get another drink! She picked up the unseen film cassettes and the viewer and headed for the kitchen, having first dropped off the film and viewer on the bedroom dresser.
My God! she thought when she'd settled on the bed in their bedroom.
This is…it's filthy! It's pornography, that's what it is, plain and simple pornography!
She wanted to cast the offending cassettes from her, but a curious perversity made her grip them more tightly between her fingers and kept her eyes fastened to the viewing screen. The first cassette showed a sweet-looking blonde straddling a dark-haired man; both of them were nude, with their cocks and cunts fully exposed to the camera, and his …his prick was pushed halfway up into her open pussy!
Gillian swallowed hard, watching the expression on the young woman's face. It was one of sheer, unadulterated ecstasy, lids drooping, mouth parting and wet. With the tip of her wet pink tongue darting out between her lips, she seemed to be oblivious to the camera, caught up in the sexual frenzy of the moment, of the feeling of the man's hardened cock imbedded deep within her tightly gripping cunt walls. And she was manipulating her own tits, squeezing them passionately in her ardor.
God! She can't be more than nineteen years old! Gillian thought feverishly.
Staring at the angelic young girl's obvious enjoyment, Gillian felt a quickening of her breath, a fluttering in her lower belly. The inside of her mouth was dry, and she ran her pink tongue over her lips several times, trying to dispel the arid, cottony taste.
Her now trembling fingers pulled the first cassette from the viewer and pushed the second one into the machine. She gasped, and a little spiral of unwanted heat wended its way upward through her hotly streaming pussy into her belly and chest, hardening the firm, ruby crests of her snowy tits. A man, distinguished and older, was crouched between the widespread thighs of a small, well-proportioned blonde, his long wet, seemingly hard tongue curled out to flick over the naked pussy and the erect clitty of the passion-tensed girl!
A wave of puritan revulsion took hold of Gillian, and again she wanted to throw the offending cassettes from her-break them up into little pieces.
Why, oh why did Stephan get these? Where did he get them? Isn't he satisfied with me? Am I such a bad fuck? All these questions, answered only by her own shallow breathing, clouded her mind, mixing with the gin into a miasma of self-doubt.
But she did not throw them away. Again, she stared at the viewer, at a man, at his tongue licking hungrily at the widespread pussy of the blonde girl. Lord, she moaned softly to herself at the lewd, cuntflooding sight. He's going to suck her pussy and make her cum just like Stephan did to me last night on the living room floor after he took those dirty pictures of me with my legs spread on the couch! I…I wonder if she's going to suck his cock like Stephan wanted me to do?
A cascade of shame flowed through her, causing her to flush a violent crimson. She was no better than the…the lascivious people in the films! Thinking filthy thoughts, working herself into an impossible sexual froth. Suddenly, she wished again that her husband were home.
Her pussy was so hot now, heated by the gin and the perversity of the lewd instant films she held in her quaking hand.
"God, I shouldn't torture myself like this!" she moaned aloud, but even as the words left her lips she was pulling out the third cassette and placing it on the viewer.
And there it was! Just as she had imagined! There was another young woman, with her lips firmly ovalled around the lust-hardened cock of a thin, muscular man! And she was enjoying it, this young girl was enjoying, yes reveling in the taste of the man's huge prick! She was actually groveling in the very thing Stephan had for so long wanted her to do to him.
A low cry of frustrated despair tore from Gillian's throat, and she was finally able to push the film away from her, the lewd cassettes in disarray on the bed beside her. She lay there, trembling, opening and closing her legs in a vain effort to dispel the tingling, flowing excitement which the lewd film had built to a fanning inferno between her soft, pulsating thighs.
Stephan, she thought confusedly, Stephan, I need you. I wish you were here right now! I want you, I want you to fuck me, Stephan…oh, Stephan!
Her hands went out on either side of her to clutch the spread. Her belly was on fire now and her cunt ached for cock. It was as if the pussy-arousing acts she was seeing here tonight had aroused her passions to the desperation point. Tears flowed from her eyes, and her body squirmed lewdly on the bed. She wiped away the wetness which was obscuring her vision-and her gaze fell again on one of the cassettes, the nearest one. She pushed the film into the viewer.
It showed a nakedly locked couple performing simultaneous oral fucking in the classic sixty-nine position!
Her eyes grew glazed. Breath spewed raggedly from between her open, tongue-moistened lips. She stared at the picture, at the woman in the process of running her own wetly glistening tongue upward over the man's cum-swollen balls to the ridged underside of his hardened cock, as the man's lips pressed tightly to the gaping, pink-red softness of the girl's wide-split young pussy, his nose gently tickling the tiny puckered ring of her asshole.
Oh, God, I'm sorry, Gillian's mind cried, I'm sorry. But I don't care.
I can't stand it. I can't!
And in one swift motion, the beautiful young wife rolled onto her back, still watching the salacious, full-color movie with her eyes, and with her free hand drew open the red velvet robe. Beneath it she wore only a thin pair of flimsy panty briefs. As if a separate entity, ungoverned by her will, the hand drew the panties down, slowly, slowly, as she raised her quivering asscheeks high off the bed.
Her passion-fogged brain blotted out all the evils she had been led to believe would come from finger-fucking herself. There was only her urgency now, her need for release from the intense arousal of her body by the lustful activities in the films.
She massaged the smooth, flat whiteness of her belly with the palm of her hand, around and around, raising up to pass over her tits with their swollen nipples, causing whirlpools of passion to seethe within her. Then her hand, with a will of its own, moved lower and she arched her back, raising her hips high off the bed, her fingers passing through the downy-soft fleece of her golden pussy hair and intensifying further the rising crescendo of desire.
A groan of total abandonment escaped her lips, and the young, helplessly impassioned wife moved her hand downward between her now widespread thighs, wet with the juices of her passion. She gently insinuated her fingers into the moist flesh, and the feeling generated by her own fevered fingers was so very, very good. She manipulated the soft hairlined inner lips until she could feel them swelling with the rush of blood, and her clit was rigid and tingling. Her index finger came in contact with the trembling flesh, and she began to gasp with delight as she felt release imminent. Her hips thrashed the bed and the air, her eyes never once leaving the viewer and the lewd fucking depicted there-lips on cock, lips on cunt, lips on cock, lips on cunt …
Faster, faster, faster, her finger fucked across the sensitive little clitty of her cunt, blanking her mind of all thoughts, all sanity; nothing existed for her in that moment except the delirious coming of her impending cum.
And then she was there!
Oh, God, her hotly arching little pussy was cumming like wild fire!
Her naked hips flailed frantically at the bed as wave after wave of intensely bursting release seized her. It was pleasure so acute that it approximated pure pain. Then, as her cum began to ebb, her naked asscheeks sank back to the spread and her hand stilled but did not leave her cunt. She lay there, not moving, her eyes squeezed tightly shut now and her huge tits rising and falling spasmodically.
And then sanity returned to her brain. With it came abject mortification, a feeling of self-loathing that was almost as great as the delight of her ebbing cum. She moaned aloud in despair, sitting up, knocking the films from the bed and flinging them to the floor around it as if they were vermin of the foulest type. Then she threw herself face down on the bed, crying out her torment, sick with the knowledge of the act of finger-fucking that she had just performed on her own cunt.
Those damnable films! They were the cause of her rising excitement into the throes of lust, her loss of self-control. Those filthy films! Oh, damn you, Stephan! Where did you get them, anyway? But it wasn't Stephan's fault, it was his brother's fault for even suggesting this stupid movie-taking in the first place. He was probably the one who gave them to Stephan. Well, if this was Frank's idea of art, let him keep it to himself!
The questions spun and rotated in Gillian's tormented, liquor-fogged mind. She felt sick to her stomach, and…dirty. She needed the cleansing release of sleep; she couldn't be this upset when Stephan came home. He must never know she'd finger-fucked herself tonight; no, he must never know.
She took off her gown and lay back down on the bed, slipping between the sheets, praying for the respite of sleep to ease her tortured mind.
As she sobbed into her pillow, all time stopped, the only measurement being the thud of her heart punctuated by the soft sobs of her guilt.
The films lay scattered on the floor, unremembered.