Connie had no idea why she'd come. Little idea why she'd been invited. She scarcely knew the host and hostess, while the guests milling around the apartment were all strangers to her. But the prospect of beginning the new year alone in her apartment was so unattractive… But she was bored silly, and it wasn't quite eleven yet. Maybe she'd slip out soon, wander down to Times Square, mingle with the street crowds. Get mugged, she reminded herself. Shaking her head she asked the barman to fix her another gin and tonic.
Someone in a corner was smoking marijuana. A few years ago it had been quite daring, and now it was growing passe. There was a dryness on the tip of her tongue. Connie opened her purse and took out a Newport, fumbling for her lighter.
Before she could find it a streak of flame appeared before her face, and she accepted the light with a blase nod. As she exhaled she saw that the fire had been provided by an ignited twenty-dollar bill. Connie's eyes opened, and she wasn't quite so blase.
"Hi," he said. "I've been trying to catch your eye for half an hour, but you seemed so out of it I decided to go with flash. Did it work?" He dropped the burning bill into an ashtray and stood waiting for her answer.
Connie laughed, her face loosening up prettily. The light and shadow at the bar cast intriguing patterns back and forth across her features. "This is the mast expensive smoke of my life," she confessed.
"I hope you'll remember it a long time. Is this seat taken?" It wasn't.
She kissed him automatically when the midnight countdown reached zero. It was the custom at New Year's parties, and Connie meant nothing special by the gesture. But she felt his arms encircle her as they stood in the singing crowd of guests, and he was lifting her onto tiptoes against him, his mouth covering hen, sucking her tongue into his mouth, dueling with it with his lingual tool. Her arms wiggled helplessly for one brief instant before they wrapped themselves around him. That other people stood all around didn't matter. Connie felt herself drowning in his kiss and she sought total immersion. When his lips left hers she was breathless, her face flushed and damp. She found herself excited and aroused, the way any woman might be when a handsome man, virile and masculine, demonstrated his interest in her as a woman.
He was handsome, too, she assured herself, and he carried himself as if he knew it. Pleasant, strong, with one of those striking, unusual faces that made him all the more attractive. And young, too. He couldn't have been more than thirty. Ten years her junior. Would someone whisper "cradle robber" in her ear if she left the party with him?
Oh, let them! She knew from the feel of his hands on her body that he was interested in her, and she could deduce from the stirrings of his cock as her body rubbed his that his interest was sexual as well as personal. And whose life was it, after all? It was her life, and his. A woman of forty shouldn't have to worry about what other people might think.
Connie tested him. She told him she must be going, for it was late, and he countered by pointing out that the streets were unsafe this time of night. So, he called a taxi and they went downstairs to wait for its arrival.
His name was Roger Spence, and he kissed her again in the lobby, while the doorman drank from a bottle in a paper sack. He kissed her again when they'd entered the taxi, this time on the ear and neck. Be bold, she thought, turning her lips to him. He eased her down in the back seat, his hand on her thigh, his mouth fastened to hers. There was a light snow falling, and the driver took it slowly and carefully. By the time they reached Connie's building the only proper thing was to invite the man up far a drink. They were quite good friends by then.
Connie liked the limber stretch of his legs, his dark shaggy hair, the flash of his black eyes as he sprawled on her couch. When she joined him, a drink in each hand, he was looking at the picture from the coffee table.
"My children," she said, handing him his bourbon. "That's Gerry. He's nineteen, in school upstate, near Albany. And the girl is Stacy. She's a junior at Amherst. I think they're lovely, but I tend to be prejudiced."
Roger put down the photo. "Husband?"
"We were divorced in sixty-two, and he's been dead since sixty-eight."
"And how about you, Constance Talbot? What do you do?"
She laughed. "At present, nothing. I used to work for an ad agency, and I thought I was indispensable. No one is, really, but I'd been having an affair with one of the executives for – oh, three or four years, I suppose – we used to meet two or three afternoons a week at the company's hospitality suite in the Plaza – so I thought I had job security. Well! The firm did some cutting back, thanks to the recession, and my department got pruned. He could have saved my job, but he didn't. I took that as a hint that it was all over. Do I shock you? I'm still a country girl at heart, and I tend to speak my mind."
He put his hand on her knee. "I knew you were a right-on lady the first time I saw you. And that's something I like. So are you."
He leaned toward her, folding his arm around her body, and Connie let herself be pulled. Her tits grazed his chest, his hand slid down her back to cup the cheeks of her slim, shapely ass, and she felt her thigh bump something inside his pants that was beginning to take intriguing shape.
Just before he kissed her lips she stretched out one hand and turned the picture on the coffee table around. "Not in front of the children," she laughed, but his mouth covered hers, stifling the laugh, and Connie didn't mind a bit.
His tongue explored her mouth as she sucked possessively. At the same time he was undoing the buttons of her tunic top, one hand thrusting inside to stroke the cups of her brassiere. She felt her nipples come erect at his touch, and she leaned closer, giving him more freedom to work on her body. Her thigh still lay across his lap and she could feel the heat of his erection touching the back of her leg. He was up, big and stiff.
She lay back, reluctantly ending the kiss as he slipped her tunic completely off. Her bra was yellow nylon, the brown nips obvious through the sheer fabric. Roger stroked her with his fingertips, teasing her nipples to even harder peaks, and then he bent his head, sucking them through the bra cups, chewing their rubbery stiffness. She wrapped her hands around his head and combed his curly hair with her fingers as he licked and mouthed. Behind one breast her heart pounded wildly, and she wondered if his tongue was picking up the frantic vibration.
He raised his face. "Is there any reason we shouldn't go to bed?" he wondered. "No children around, no guests, whatever?" Connie shook her head. She'd seen the kids for a day or two at Christmas, in glimpses. Now Gerry was off skiing in Vermont, and Stacy had taken a Puerto Rican vacation in the sun and surf.
She gave him her hand, and he led her into the bedroom, almost as if he knew by instinct where it was. Connie turned on the bed light and turned to him, her lips fluttering moistly in the subdued glare. "Let me undress you," he said, "and then you can do it for me."
She nodded, and he knelt before her. She was almost bare to the waist as it was, and he began by undoing the waistband of her slacks. They were stylishly baggy, and they dropped as soon as the snaps had been loosened. Connie stepped out of them while Roger stroked her stockinged thighs.
He hesitated as he touched her, and she wondered if something about her body had suddenly turned him off. He started to rub her legs, from hipbones to ankles, dwelling, it seemed, on her stocking tops. She was about to ask him if something was wrong when he spoke.
"Jesus," he said, "I remember when I was younger. It was hard as hell to find pictures of naked girls then – this was a long time before you had split beavers on every newsstand, before the porno revolution – and so many of the models back then used to pose in garter belts and black stockings. Do you know this is the first time I ever saw one live? Let me!" And with that he pulled down her panties. Connie wiggled as he removed them from her body, and he knelt before her another moment, admiration plain on his face.
Impulsively he leaned forward, kissing the fluff of dark hair framed between the tops of her thighs. Connie felt his lips burrowing through the curls of her muff, and when they touched the slit of her cunt she grabbed his head.
"OH!" was all she could say, vent loud, very satisfied, but she couldn't even say that when she felt his tongue jabbing at the tight mouth of her pussy.
He leaned back, smiling. "I couldn't resist it," he told her. "You look kissing sweet, all over," Rising to his feet he unhooked her bra and swung its cups aside to let her breasts bounce free. The nipples were vibrantly stiff, awaiting only the sheen of moisture his mouth could – and did – provide them.
"You're beautiful," he said finally, holding her to him.
"You don't think I'm too old?" Connie chided. He reached down with both hands, grabbing her by the ass, pulling her up. Connie stood on tiptoes as his fingers tickled her bare bottom, sliding into the crack of her ass, and he kissed away the last of her doubts. How long? she asked herself. She'd not made love to anything except her fingers in – two months? That long? Not since her ex-lover had announced that the job and the affair were both done. God, she thought. She was a woman in her prime. How did she endure it? She could feel her nipples throbbing already, and there was a sensation of wetness in the pit of her cunt – Yes! One of his fingers prodded the curling dark fuzz and entered her pussy as he cuddled her closely. Connie squirmed to feel his finger inserting itself, and she could hear the squish of juicy moisture as he pried apart the lips of her cunt.
"You'd better let me undress you," she suggested.
Roger let her sink to her feet, and she raced to strip him as bare as she was. The lump of his semihard cock was so delicious that Connie couldn't resist dropping to her knees and fondling it before she was finished undressing him. Roger shifted from leg to leg as she played with the bulge in his shorts, and finally, when she'd stroked and fondled him to an impressive degree of hardness, Connie jerked down his underwear.
His tool was much, more beautiful in the flesh than she'd dreamed possible. Long and thick, with a might pair of balls dangling beneath, Roger's cock arched upward from its base at least eight or nine inches. She wrapped both hands around it, so that most of its shaft was covered. The big knobby tip stuck out impudently, almost purple in its excitement, and she kissed him there, her lips soft, moist, provocative, his flesh hot, throbbing, and delightfully smooth-textured. He was wet in his slit when her lips brushed him there, and the briefest, most tantalizing sample of Roger's cum anointed Connie's tongue to spur her onward.
She squeezed him with both hands, squeezed until another bubble of wetness seeped forth, and this bubble too she wiped away happily, savoring its sweet, tangy flavor.
In another moment Roger had kicked away his fallen pants and shorts, and he was with hot on the bed. Her eyes feasting upon his erection while her hands studied its texture and resiliency. As Connie entered upon the slow, sensuous procedures of oral love, Roger's loins twitched involuntarily and his ass seemed to rise ever so slightly from the bed, as if he were on the verge of giving her more dick and fast! She put her palm on his groin, just below the navel, and stoked him in reassurance. With a sigh he sank back into place and Connie set about giving him the treatment.
She enjoyed using her mouth on a man's rod. It showed in her face, the bright flush of interest that colored her cheeks, the little puffing sounds she made as she licked and kissed, and it showed most vividly in the skillful technique her mouth had developed over the years. She had no false modesty about it, either. Enough men had told her how good she was. They knew it, and she knew it, but proving it was the most delightful part of all.
Connie Talbot didn't give conventional blowjobs. She made love to a cock with her mouth, playing a symphony of arousal, effect, and stimulation, a harmonious blending that all of her men had found indescribably delicious.
She began by kissing the underside of his dick, working downward from the point to the dangling sac of balls. As her mouth moved down Roger's length she held him upright with two fingers of one hand, their nails exerting a definite pressure on his swollen knob. Her tongue darted out to lick and trace his urethral bulge, too, and she spent a long, lovely time in the region where his cock and scrotum joined. She pulled with her lips at the tiny hairs growing from his bag, making Roger moan, but it was nothing compared to the moan he gave when she opened her mouth wide and allowed his balls to slip inside for some careful sucking and rolling.
Her hand moved in slow masturbation on his cock while she nursed its twin sprouting jewels, and she felt him pat her in affection. His balls seemed to engorge in her mouth as she sucked them, and she let them fall free at last, not wishing to drive him too soon to the breaking point.
Connie bent his cock toward her and started lipping and tonguing the upper side of his rigid erection, tracing her way once again to the swollen glans her fingers held entrapped. Roger lifted his head and shoulders from the bed, leaning toward her, and his fingers began to twine and weave in her silken brown locks as her lips finally attained his cockhead.
"That feels so good," he told her in a choked voice as her tongue set about rimming his glans. Connie knew damned well that the coronal edges were the most excitable part of a man's cock, and she traced Roger's with her tongue, stroking him in a careful rhythmic pattern that alternated between fast licking and a very slow, prolonged oral caress. She held him now about the middle of the penis, her index finger directly atop one of the knotty veins that stood out vividly on his pole, and she could feel his pulse thumping and pounding with his increasing degree of excitement.
But Roger's stepped-up arousal couldn't sway Connie from the task she'd set herself, that of giving him the best oral sex he'd ever had. If she'd used her hand then, in just the right shucking way, he'd have exploded in a bubbling fountain of cum. She knew it would have been okay with him, and she wouldn't have minded it either, but it could be better – more erotic, more tantalizing – so that his ejaculation, when it occurred, would not be just another cum, but an experience.
She opened her mouth and took his glans inside, sucking it hard for a moment or two before she released it, wet and shiny. Her fingers stroked the tender flesh, dripping with her saliva, and she kissed at the red suck marks she'd left on the peeled skin below the head. Again she could feel his strong male throbbing, and she knew that her own pulse was racing too. Her heart thumped like a drum behind her left tit. It had been too long since she'd had a man to love. Now she knew what she'd been missing all that time – the smell, the taste, the closeness, the knowledge that soon he'd be raging inside her, hard and eager, his cock jerking to rid itself of a boiling load of semen.
Eagerly Connie began to lick and kiss and bite her way up and down his penis. Time had no meaning for her. She wanted only to love his manhood with her mouth, to chew and suck him to a gush of bubbling release.
Up and down raced Connie's lips, the tongue peeking from between them to flick wetly along the shaft of Roger's dick. She nipped at his urethra, just hard enough to let him know she cared, and she cupped his scrotum in her hand, jiggling it to make the stones inside shake, rattle and roll together. He groaned at what she was doing to him, and Connie heard a similar muted cry seep from her own lips. Her mouth darted upward, into the flaring underside of his glans, and she kissed him there a dozen times, loud and smacking. His penis jerked and swelled despite the grip in which she held it, and she knew he was close.
Her tongue flitted out, stealing into his slit. He had a big one, matching the bigness of his pecker, and she reamed it with her tongue, stabbing at the hole as if she meant to fuck his cock with the tip of her tongue.
It was too much for Roger. He'd endured the slow torture of her mouth work, but this drove him beyond recall. He grabbed her head and tried to force his dick into her kissing mouth. She opened it, not enough to let him ram inside, but enough to entrap the bulge of his glans behind her front teeth. Only when she felt the first gush of his blasting jism did she open wider, taking almost half his prick into her gullet and allowing his cum to spun into her gulping throat.
He emptied himself into her, groaning and sighing as the tremors of his ejaculation swept through him. Connie drank his love gift happily, and she could feel a warm oozing between her thighs. That nearly always happened when she really got into a blowjob, and she wouldn't have had it any other way. She took it all, drinking it down, too much a lady to belch it forth and let his seed drip sloppily from her lips and chin. It had been entirely too, long, she thought with satisfaction, sucking him dry.
His cock wearied with the effort, and she felt it going soft in her mouth. Not too soft, though. He was still half-hard when she let him bob free, and he was pleasantly big even with only half a hard-on. Connie smacked her lips, touched herself gently between the legs, and crawled to lie beside him. He put one hand on her nearest breast, the other on the fluffed mons between her stockinged thighs, and his mouth descended upon hers.
She gurgled with joy as his tongue rammed between her lips to tickle the interiors of her cheeks, and she closed her mouth to entrap him there. They kissed until neither of them had any air left, and they fell apart with laughs and fond slaps.
"That was dynamite," Roger said enthusiastically. "Nobody's ever done me quite like that before. And I thought my generation discovered oral sex."
"You can still learn from the old-timers," Connie giggled. She rubbed his chest. He had a lot of hair, a symbol of masculinity that aroused her nearly as much as a bigger symbol between his legs. "Back in Ohio when I was a teenager, nice girls didn't go to bed with boys until they were married. Not unless they wanted everyone in town to talk about them in dirty whispers. But there are realities to consider. And snow jobs." She laughed. "You've never been a sixteen-year-old virgin in a back seat with a boy telling her that his hard-on is a dangerous muscle spasm, that unless it's taken care of, he could be crippled for life. That was how I got hooked in, the first time. I believed him, and when he told me how I could help, well -! And I felt responsible, anyway, because he told me I excited him so much. So I used my mouth and hands. The second time I did it because I liked it. But only with boys that I was sure wouldn't spread it all over. Hey! You won't tell anybody about me, will ya? Promise you respect me?"
"Promise," he swore, sliding a finger into her furry slit. Connie squirmed, using her cuntal muscles to suck him in deep.
"Most of the nice girls did it," she went on. "I enjoyed it more than most, and I think I've gotten pretty good over the years. My God, Roger, I can still remember my honeymoon! My husband was the first man who ever fucked me, and the second night we were man and wife he explained to me, very solemnly and seriously, that sex consisted of more than simple screwing. Mmmm! He never got over how fast I picked up on sucking him off! He told me I must have a natural talent for it."
Roger laughed too, and they rolled together. Connie's leg slid across his lap, tickling his half-hard cock with the nylon of her dark stocking, and she felt him rise against her.
"I think you're refilled," she pointed out.
"Did you have any doubts?" he asked huskily, reversing her on the bed. Now her head pointed away from him, her feet toward him. He prodded her legs open and gave her cunt a thorough inspection with his fingers. She squirmed as he split her labia and started to poke inside, but it was a pleasant feeling, thanks to the warmth and wetness of her gash, and Connie found her hips twitching in syncopation as he tested her for response. The smell of her aroused pussy was drifting into the close air of the bedroom. Like a bitch in heat, she thought smugly. Any hound in the vicinity only had to take a sniff to know when she was ready to be had.
"Hey," Roger asked, "do you have any moral objections to being my main course?"
She only giggled, charmed by his comparison.
"Right on," he said, his head dropping into the playground between her legs.
He gave her a vigorous eating-out with his vigorous mouth, his tongue and teeth active on the swollen flanges of her slice. First he nibbled the very slightly protruding inner labia, where they peeked shyly from Connie's split, and then he spread them with his tongue, stabbing inside to tickle the slickness of her pink vulva. She throbbed and cooed in response, heaving from side to side as he became more serious and concentrated in his oral attack. He was using his fingertips to keep her slit parted, using them to splay her and play her, while he pretended to search for an elusive clitoris. That was right under his nose all the time.
In fact, his nose was the instrument that first located Connie's scarlet sex trigger. He bumped her button once or twice with his nose, jiggling it just to hear her cry out in joy, and then he drew it into his mouth for a bit of suckling.
She had a delicate, tender clit, a bit larger than the avenge, and it grew firmer, larger, more sensitive as his lips plied and tugged its supple elasticity. Connie tried to lift her ass from the bed, to sock him in the face with her increasingly wet pussy, but she found herself unable to move. He was as definitely in control of her physical reactions as she had been of his, and she loved it. Not many men her own age could gobble match the way Roger was gobbling hers, and she knew it. If his generation hadn't exactly invented oral sex, it had at least learned that the woman deserved pleasure in return.
A muted cry burst from her lips and she felt her heart thumping madly and her pussy twitching in a quick orgasmic tremor. Connie could sense the increase in her juice flow. Now Roger was tasting the musky essence of her womanhood, a sensual wetness that that dampened his mouth as he continued to nudge her love button, and she wished she could open herself widely enough to draw his entire sucking face into her body. Her cunt ached at the very thought, but it was a delicious kind of ache and she wished the feeling could last forever.
The orgasm didn't rush and ebb and finally dwindle, the way hers usually did. It intensified with each second and Connie suddenly made a hoarse, groaning gasp of unendurable passion. Roger raised his face from her cunt and she could see his smile through the clouds that blurred her vision.
He was fast. He shifted himself, got his body between her legs, and before she had ceased to make the piercing cries of her pleasure his body was upon hers, his mouth sucking her screams into his own lungs, and his cock making an inroad upon her snatch that was everything Connie had hoped it would be, and more, so much, much more!
She took him high, hard, very, very hard, his dick thick and long and stiff, filling her cunt from labia to womb, each stroke picking a new area of her vaginal sheath to lance and ram. He varied his strokes as he went in and out. Connie could do little but writhe beneath him. Her pussy was thrillingly alive in its release, but she knew as Roger fed her all of his plugging rod that the best had only begun.
Her legs went up – she didn't even know she was doing it – and she folded them around his body. He purred at the feel of her stockings rubbing his skin, and he began to ball her with a harder, more driving kind of passion that made Connie lurch and buck beneath him in a demonic effort to keep pace. She wriggled and jerked ow the bed, twisting this way and that, each of her gyrations designed to screw another inch of his penis into her sucking hole. The ripples of a super climax kept an shuddering through her snatch, and Roger's dick could not ignore that muscular clutching effect.
His strokes became stronger, and she felt as if he were lifting her body from the bed each time he plumbed her slick, silky depths. It was good, she told herself. It would be good for both of them. Connie believed in serious fucking when its time came, and so did Roger. He gave it to her, she accepted it with variations and kinks of her own that made him return to his bone-burying with even more enthusiasm.
She wanted to fuck him all night long, in every position either of them could dream up. God, Jesus, what a way to start the new year. She hoped she could take him in her mouth again, that she might feel his own mouth on her cunt. She wanted it all, and she never wanted it to stop, no matter if it killed her.
Connie hadn't stopped cumming since his teeth closed upon her clit. Each stroke of his big dick, sliding across and around the bud of her trigger, was a reminder of that instant. The throes and tremors of orgasm racked her body, left her sweating beneath him, and she moved her hips desperately, cunt gaping to swallow him with hungry gulps. In spite of her desires she knew she couldn't hold on much longer. She must rest, and soon. Her cunt would be aching beyond belief come morning, and it would ache with the abuses she had already endured, the further abuses it would receive before they turned out the lights and went to sleep. Well! What the hell was a pussy for, anyway? She could take it!
"More, God, please, give me more," she whispered into his face, her tongue licking sweat drops from his cheek. He was already giving her every inch of his prick. She could feel his nuts rocking in her crack, the stem thump of his pubic bone upon hers each time he came down for a thudding downstroke – but he made up for it by screwing her with a demanding passion that made his previous effort look like warm-up exercises. She screamed into his kissing mouth when she felt him double his tempo, and she wondered if her cunt and his cock weren't being scraped raw in the madness of the act.
"Oh, cum with me!" she shrilled. "I want to feel you cumming inside me!"
He must have been close anyway, or perhaps the whining pitch of her words broke the string that retained his control. His cock shivered and jerked inside her, and then came the sputtering bursts of his pecker juice, pouring forth to fill her ecstatic hole.
Connie bucked upward, her ass moving in time with the ejaculatory tremors of Roger's pole, and she used her cunt like a tight, furry mouth to suck up his cum. She could hear the squishing as he rammed through the juices he'd already spilled, to leave even more at the mouth of her uterus, and she knew that the liquid pearls must be dripping uncontrollably from the gap of her slit, wetting the sheet, bubbles of jism collecting in their pubic fur as his hair twined with hers. She could feel something warm and sticky trailing across her perineum toward the puckered ring of her anus. Connie held him tighter in her arms, seeking his mouth with her own, and she jerked and twisted as she milked his peter with the muscles of her cunt.
"So," he said later as they nestled on the rumpled bed. "If you've lost your job, what do you do? It must be expensive as hell keeping two kids in school."
Connie puffed on her Newport, then stubbed it out. "Oh, it's not that bad. My ex-husband left a trust fund for their education's. That's what they're using, you see. And I'm still getting severance pay from the agency. It was in my contract. If I'm fired without due cause, one year's pay. I own the apartment, and – oh, I'm doing all right, I suppose. Of course, come next October, when the agency checks run out, I suppose I'll be down on the breadline."
She put her hand on his fucked-out cock. "Don't talk about me," she said. "I want to know about you. Do you have a thing about older women? I know you get off on garter belts and stockings – remind me to lay in a supply – but do you just prefer us old girls?"
"Old, young, I don't care," he said. "If I see a woman and it's there, in her eyes, then I want her. I'll do anything to get her. Tonight I saw you, and I knew I wanted you."
"I'm glad."
He covered her hand where it played with his cock. "Not half as glad as I am. Hey! What I'm getting at is this. I'm starting a major project next Wednesday – a week of work, then the finishing up. If you're interested, I'll put you on the budget as my assistant Two-fifty minimum, off the books. What do you say?"
"If I can be with you, I don't even want any money. What do you do, anyway?"
"I guess we never got around to my job. I make movies. A lot of loops so far, but next week I start my first feature. X-rated stuff."
"Pornography?" Connie blurted. "You must be kidding! My God, are you an actor or what?"
"I make them," he repeated. "Director, writer, co-producer. I have an M.A. in film from NYU and I can do anything. Sometimes I handle the camera, and…" he leered, "…sometimes I handle the actresses."
"Well, if you think I'm going to…"
"You'd be my assistant. Script girl, makeup artist, gopher, classroom monitor – you name it. Whatever has to be done to get the cameras rolling."
"Oh. I know what you mean, Lord, I've done that, working liaison for the agency on some commercials we produced. Back in the Stone Age I did a bit of acting myself, you know. I was in three commercials, had a few bit parts. But acting is such an easy way to starve. Oh, I don't know, Roger, it sounds like it might be fun…"
"And we'd be spending a lot of time together," he hinted. "I'd hate like hell to lose you at the very beginning of what promises to be an out-of-sight year."
"I'll have to think about it," she demurred, her hand squeezing his cock and finding it ready. Automatically she spread her legs and made room for him between them.
"You do that," he whispered, making his cock once more acquainted with the warmth of her pubic fur. "And say yes, if you don't mind, Constance Talbot."
"Yes!" she wailed, feeling him slide deeply into her cunt. "Yes!"