When Belinda thought that Mrs. Jenkins was the sort of woman who might have a vibrator or dildo, she didn't know the half of it, for Amanda Jenkins was a very sexy woman, indeed – as her husband, James, was thinking while he watched her getting dressed for the evening.
They were going to a party.
Belinda had not arrived yet – it was still early – but Amanda had started getting ready in plenty of time. James had finished shaving and come out of the bathroom wearing only his shorts. He paused and looked at his wife appreciatively. She was, sitting on the edge of the bed, putting her stockings on. Except for her black garter belt she was naked.
She was unaware of her husband's presence and yet, even believing herself to be alone, her movements were as erotic as if she had been doing a striptease. She rolled the nylon stocking up her calf with sensual grace. Her hands seemed to be caressing her flesh with narcissistic pleasure.
James grinned.
He wore boxer shorts sand the fly of those shorts began to gap open as a result of the swelling activity that bad started to take place within.
Everything about Amanda was erotic.
She was tall and willowy and graceful. Her legs were long and sleek. As she bent down, her tits were like ripe fruit, ready to be plucked, firm and succulent and capped by large, dark nipples that were constantly stiff. She had a mane of dark, curly hair worn in an intricate style, with ringlets and coils, and her pubic bush was an echo of that ebony hair, a wide wedge of thick, black hair that curled far out towards her hipbones and sent a slender tendril up to her belly button. She was smooth as satin and suntanned evenly, without the pale patches that a bathing suit would have left.
James watched her snap the strap of the garter belt to the stocking.
He was pleased that she wore stockings, instead of the fashionable pantyhose that so many women wore these days – and which made them look as smooth-crotched as plastic dolls. But he realized that she did not wear the stockings for his pleasure as much as for her own, for she really loved to look and feel sexy and sensual. He had often found her posing, naked, before the full-length mirror – and sometimes running her hands over her tits or up her inner thighs in a caress of self-appreciation.
She began to roll the other stocking on.
The head of James' cock poked out of the fly of his shorts as it hardened.
He was staring at her big, stiff, succulent nipples and his mouth had started to water for them.
She shifted slightly.
He saw her cunt.
The slit was wet and parted. It bisected the dark pubic mound like a pink river running through a thick jungle. Her clit was as stiff as her nipples. He wondered if she had made herself hot simply by the act of rolling those stockings up her legs.
His prick slipped all the way out from his fly, standing like a baton before his belly – a big prick that reached almost to his breastbone when fully erect. His balls were large in proportion – which was why he wore boxer shorts, instead of constricting briefs.
He wondered if there was time for a fuck before the baby-sitter arrived.
They fucked a lot, Amanda and James. She was twenty-seven. He was thirty. They were both horny.
Usually, but not always, they fucked each other.
Amanda had fastened the other stocking. She was still not aware of her husband, standing in the doorway with a hard-on jutting from his shorts. She was looking down at her own body. She cupped one plump tit in her hand, lifting the mound as if judging its weight.
She smiled.
Her thumb slipped across the nipple, causing it to push out even more.
The sight thrilled James and his prick, fully erect now, started to thunder.
The knob was glowing with heat and had Amanda not been concentrating so hard on her own body, she would no doubt have seen that meaty slab flashing.
But when she was intent on her own charms, the narcissistic lady noticed little else.
Now – James gasped – she moved her hand down to her plump crotch, running the tip of her middle finger slowly up her wet, parted slit.
"Ummmm," she sighed.
She fucked her vibrant clit.
James would have normally kept quiet, intrigued at the sight of his sultry wife playing with her pussy and tits, but his prick was rampaging now and he wanted to get a fuck in before the baby-sitter interrupted them.
He coughed lightly.
Amanda looked up, surprised.
But she was not in the least embarrassed at having been caught playing with her pussy and she gave her clit another flick before drawing her hand away.
When she noticed the state of his cock, she smiled.
"Ummmm," she said. "That looks good." She shifted on the bed so that she was facing him, her thighs parted. Her slit was flooded with cunt juice, either from her fingering or the sight and expectation of his prick or, most likely, a combination of the two. She gazed lovingly at his big cock. She adored his prick and she loved the way it invariably reacted when he saw her naked. Amanda had always been a narcissist. When a man wanted her she was inclined to want him, in return, simply because he wanted her rather than through any particular desire for his body. She used pricks to pleasure herself.
Now she narrowed her eyes and said, "I won't allow you to go to the party in that condition, darling. All the women would be after you if they saw the size of that lump bulging in your trousers."
"What do you propose to do with it, then?" he asked, halting a few feet from her.
"Why, I'd better empty it, hadn't I?"
"What a good idea!"
"But how?" she speculated, teasingly. "I haven't put my lipstick on yet – so I suppose I could suck it off…"
James said, "Ahhh…"
"On the other hand, I haven't put my panties on yet, either, so you could empty it up my cunt, as well."
James didn't care where he emptied his prick, as long as he got it emptied.
He pushed his hips out, offering it to her, letting her decide whether to lean forward and take it into her mouth or fall back and present her pussy.
Amanda licked her lips, as if prejudging what that hot slab would taste like.
"I think perhaps I'll…" And the doorbell rang. "Dam!" James said.
He looked at his wristwatch.
"The little bitch is early," he said.
Little did he know – and it truly would have excited him had he known – that Belinda had come early because she was impatient and eager to finger-fuck herself in his bedroom.
"Will you let her in, honey?" Amanda asked.
"Yeah. But – don't put any more clothing on while I'm gone – or lipstick, as the case may be."
"Oh, James – we can't fuck with her here. You know what a loud fuck I am, darling. And the bed squeaks a little. She'd know what we were doing!"
"Who cares?"
"James, she'd only a kid."
The bell rang again.
James cross and annoyed, snatched up his bathrobe and pulled it on. It stuck out in the front, for his prick was still hard, despite the distraction.
He said, "Well, you'll just have to suck me off, then, baby, I'll be as quiet as I can – and you won't be able to make much noise with a cock down your gullet."
Amanda smiled.
"All right," she whispered and, concluding the words, her lips formed a little round circle, as if to show him just how they would form around his pecker.
James grinned, satisfied. He went downstairs.
Belinda had not changed her clothes.
She still wore the sexy, tight fitting tee shirt and the scandalously brief shorts. Walking over, her cunt had felt like an ember smoldering between her slim thighs and she had heard the cunt juice squish as she stepped. Thinking about Tommy, she hadn't really considered the effect that her garb would have on James Jenkins.
And that effect was magnified by the fact that he was already horny and already had a hard-on.
When he opened the door and saw the sexy girl, he blinked in amazement.
Some baby-sitter!
He had a fleeting fantasy in which he garbed himself in a diaper and summoned her to sit with him and, as babys will, nursed on her sweet little titties.
"Come in," he said.
She shoved past him. He saw the way her firm young tits thrust out in front and then, as she passed, the way her pneumatic ass thrust out in back. She turned, smiling. He saw a wisp of pubic hair curling out from the vee of her very brief shorts. The crotchband seemed to be dragged right up into her cunt – he could see the indentation of her slit.
His cock was already hard.
Now it bucked wildly.
James was taken by an unholy urge.
Normally, he would never have done a thing like that with such a teen girl, but this was an exceptional case. He was horny, as a bull and she, quite obviously, was a lewd young lady. He had the irresistible urge to, accidentally, show her his big prick.
He moved one thigh slightly out, drawing the front of his robe open.
Trying to speak normally, he croaked, "We're getting dressed, young lady. Belinda, is it?"
"Un-huh."
"My wife will be down in a few minutes with your instructions – please wait downstairs for now."
"Okay," she said.
Sure enough, her eyes had gone down to his crotch.
James let his bathrobe fall open.
His mighty prick was exposed, the head glowing and the vein pounding.
Belinda's eye widened and she caught her breath.
The display satisfied a dark urge in James whom, although not normally an exhibitionist – certainly not a flasher – had felt a strange compulsion to display his wares to the sexy little girl.
As if the robe had opened by accident, he drew it closed again – slowly.
"Sorry," he said.
"That's-that's okay," she stammered. He grinned.
"My wife is dressing," he said. "She isn't dressed yet, if you know what I mean."
"I sure do," said Belinda.
And then, although she knew it wasn't proper to say such a thing to an adult, she simply had to add, "She sure is a lucky woman!"
An understanding flashed between, them.
Amazed, James thought: Why! I could screw her!
And Belinda thought: I wish it was Mr. Jenkins, instead of Tommy, screwing me tonight.
James hesitated. Then he shook his head wistfully and turned away. He went up the stairs. Belinda sat down in the nearest chair.
She cupped a hand over her crotch.
She was listening for the sounds of fucking that she expected to hear from above.
I hope they don't linger over it too long, she thought. I'm dying to get my jeans off and give myself a rub – and then call Tommy – and… and I sure wish Mr. Jenkins would come home without his wife!
James was wondering how he could manage just that – to come home without Amanda.
Belinda lived just down the street, so he would not have the opportunity of driving her home and, anyhow, he did not want to have some sort of awkward, fumbling fuck in the restricting confines of a car. Nor would he take her to a motel. She was too young for that, it would be dangerous, illegal and it would seem utterly depraved, as well. But if he could manage to be alone with her, in the comfort and safety of his own home, it did not seem nearly so sordid. He didn't know if he would fuck her. She was terribly young. But he would play it by ear and see what happened – he would, that is, if he could figure out some way to get her alone.
Well, he would have to think about that later.
At the moment he had a big hard-on that had to be taken care of before his balls burst like balloons.
He went into the bedroom. Amanda was at the dressing table, making up her eyes. She had not, he saw, put on her lipstick yet. Her pretty, sensual mouth was working as she gazed at her reflection, as if she were anticipating the load of hot cockmeat that he had brought for her. He grinned at her in the mirror.
She turned, smiling. "I told her to wait downstairs," he said, slipping his bathrobe off. "We'll have to be quite," Amanda said. James shrugged. His prick was still sticking out of his shorts, harder than ever for having been flashed at the babysitter. "I suppose she knows that we fuck," he said, grinning. "Otherwise, we wouldn't need a baby-sitter, would we?"
"But we aren't going to fuck, darling," she said.
Her eyes moved to his prick. The fat slab gave a swollen lurch.
"I hope she didn't notice that," Amanda said.
James did not reply. He couldn't very well tell his wife how absolutely the girl had noticed it when he opened his robe and put it on display – nor what pleasure she seemed to take in the sight.
He stepped closer.
"Like this? Or on the bed?" Amanda asked.
She liked to blow him. She liked to suck on his big rock-hard peckerhead and pull the jism from him and she liked to swallow the lovely stuff. Usually he lay down on the bed and she hovered over him, her head bobbing up and down steadily. But sometimes he would stand up and she would kneel in front of him, like a slave or a cheap whore in a doorway. She had never sucked his cock at her vanity table, however, and the idea appealed to her. She would be able to watch herself in the mirror while she did it. That, she knew, would be very satisfying, very erotic, very exciting.
"This is nice," James said.
He pushed his hips forwards, his trim ass tightening, pushing his prick out towards her face. Amanda kissed the tip, then drew her head back and gazed at it, to see how the touch of her lips had made it throb. Her husband really did have a masterpiece of a cock, she thought happily. It was not the only prick that she admired, but it was the finest. She had been unfaithful half a dozen times in the five years of their marriage and none of her lovers had had a cock as big as James'. He had had at least two affairs that she knew about, but she was willing to bet that neither of his girl friends could suck a cock the way that she did.
Cocksucking required no particular talent and no special physical attributes, she thought – the most important aspect of being a good cocksucker was enthusiasm.
Amanda had plenty of that.
She slipped her hand inside his gaping fly and hauled his bloated balls out, wanting all of his sex tackle in sight. She cupped her hand, palm up, under, his balls.
She kissed his cockhead again.
He was so hot that her face was glowing in the radiant warmth of his prick.
She looked sideways into the mirror, seeing her excited face and his cock reflected there, exciting herself by the vision. Her mouth was watering for cockmeat by this time. Her tongue slipped back and forth across her lower lip. She thought: God, but I'm a sexy woman – what man wouldn't want to put his prick into my lovely face?
James thrust his hips out impatiently, urging her to get on with it.
He was really getting a desperate urge to get his rocks off, he needed to come so badly that it was painful.
But Amanda never rushed a blow job. She liked to linger over the preliminaries, running through the spectrum of pleasures. She bobbed her head forward, bypassing his cock, which ran along her cheek like a hot branding iron. She kissed his balls. Her tongue pressed out, lapping and laying at the hairy, cum-filled bag, curling all around the bloated balls, under them and over them. Ballmeat made a savory appetizer, she thought – it made her hungry for the meat course and that, in turn, would make her ravenous for the creamy dessert of his climax. Her nimble tongue slathered his balls with saliva and her taste buds tinged with the flavor.
She held his cock in one hand, rubbing his knob against her cheek and down to her throat, cradling it against her face lovingly and glancing in the mirror as she did so. James, too, was watching in the mirror. It was strange, he thought, but it seemed more erotic to watch their reflections than to simply look down and see the real thing.
Amanda began to tongue up his stalk.
She fluttered her tongue back and forth as she worked up from the root to the sensitive area where the rod merged into the flaring knob. She went back down to his balls and came up again, using long tongue strokes this time, running her talented tongue all the way from hilt to head with fluid slurps.
In the mirror, she watched with narrowed eyes, loving to see her pink tongue slurp up his fat stalk.
She laved and lapped for several minutes, until his prick was rampaging with need.
Then she lifted her lips to the tip of his cock, kissing him again, but this time she let her lips part as she did so, pushing her face down, and taking his cockhead into her hungry mouth slowly. She watched the big purple slab vanish in her lips. When she had his cockhead in her mouth, she clamped her lips tightly closed around the stalk, just behind the ridge.
She began to suck voraciously.
They both watched the action in the mirror.
Her cheeks drew in as she sucked and her lips turned outwards, pouting on his prick.
Only his knob was in her mouth. The long shaft stuck out between them, like a bolt fixing his balls to her lips at a distance. His cock was angled upwards into her face and her head was tilted down over it. She was drooling down his prick, saliva running down the stalk. This was the way she preferred to give head, with just the knob in her mouth. Sometimes she went further down, taking all of his big prick in like a sword swallower, and sometimes he would kneel over her, his ass brushing her tits, and fuck her in the mouth, but on the whole she liked it better when she only mouthed the head. She felt more in control that way, than when his huge knob was gagging her gullet and he was setting the pace.
She blew hot breath down his stalk.
She sucked in hard, as if she wanted to inhale his succulent cockmeat.
James was panting now, in tempo with her sucking action, as if his prick were a valve attached directly to his lungs. When she sucked, he exhaled – when she blew, he inhaled.
"Suck," he rasped.
He was pretending that it was the baby-sitter who was sucking on his prick.
"Cocksucker," he whispered.
It thrilled Amanda to be addressed in that way. Her eyes glowed with an unholy joy and her lips turned almost inside out around his stalk.
"Cum drinker!"
"Ummm," she sighed, as she slurped.
She loved to watch her lips uncurl around his shaft, to see the rim of his purple knob encased in her lips. It made her so hot that her cunt flooded and cunt juice ran down her crotch and soaked into the crack of her ass.
She began sucking faster and harder, in a steady rhythm designed to milk him off quickly.
He was groaning and his cock had swollen so much that his knob was pressing into both of her hollowed cheeks at the same time. She worked on that meaty mouthful with gusto.
"Come," she panted, voicing the word right over his knob so that he felt it as well as heard it, muffled but definite. "Come for me – shoot all that hot, thick jism in my mouth, let me drink it!"
He gasped. His hips trembled as the thrill built up in his balls and darted up his thighs.
He placed his hand against her cheek – on the opposite side from the mirror, so that he would not block out the image they were both watching.
"Here – it – comes…" he rasped.
His balls erupted.
The thick sap raced up his shaft and spurted from his cockhead in a creamy deluge.
Amanda gasped and swallowed it down, to make room for his second mighty geyser.
He came in three or four spurts, hosing her throat, flooding her gullet, and soaking her cheeks. Cum slipped across her arched tongue and splattered against the roof of her mouth. Her whole mouth was filled with the tasty stuff. No sooner did she gulp a load down than he refilled her.
She sucked ravenously, hungrily, milking his cock and balls to the dregs.
James sighed, drained.
Amanda continued to suck steadily as she made sure she had dragged every single drop of his jism from his balls and milked it all out from his cockhead, not wanting to miss a single drop of the delicious feast.
She pulled her lips away from his cockhead slowly. The big slab popped out like a cork from a bottle. She leaned down and used her tongue to gather up a few errant nuggets of cum that had overflowed her eager lips and trickled down onto his shaft. She let the drop slide around on her tongue for a moment and gazed into the mirror, watching the slimy delight run over her tastebuds.
"Ummm, that was lovely," she whispered.
"It sure was," said James.
He had forgotten about the lewd baby-sitter for the moment.
But Belinda, looking furtively in through the partly open door, had certainly not forgotten him…