Chapter 9
In Chicago, Charles Stern shifted his weight uncomfortably in the overstuffed chair at the head of the long table surrounded by arguing, overweight board members. The meeting had gone on too long considering they didn't have enough information from South America to make a decision whether to go ahead with the huge construction project that would turn virgin jungle into a modern city of brick and steel. He pushed himself back from the table and stood up. The talking stopped and heads turned in his direction. He excused himself and left the room, the talk resuming behind him even before he closed the heavy walnut doors of the board room. He couldn't concentrate on the subject at hand. His mind kept going back to Brenda Martin.
Riding the elevator up to the penthouse, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had done something wrong. It couldn't be guilt, could it? If it was, it was a new experience for him. He had met a lot of women in a lot of different places and had participated in a lot of strange relationships, but he had never before felt that they hadn't been just as eager for the relationship as he had. Did Brenda really believe she was still under the influence of a hypnosis experiment that had happened so many years before? Yes or no, he somehow felt responsible for her-that, too, being a new feeling for him. When he had ordered the flowers for her earlier in the day, he had expected that that would relieve the guilt, but she had remained on his mind. Now, in one way or another, he was determined to set things right.
At the top floor, he entered the penthouse. He crossed through the main room, removing his tie as he went, and closed himself in the library. He sat on the edge of the desk and lifted the receiver. The long distance operator connected him and a moment later the operator at the Plaza Hotel rang Miss Martin's room. She wasn't in. He left a message for her at the desk, saying he would fly back in the morning and meet her for breakfast. He hung up the phone and stared out the large windows overlooking the city. He felt protective toward her? It was ridiculous. Why? He sighed. What he needed was something to take his mind off both Brenda Martin and the frustrating board meeting.
The sound of splashing water drew his attention. He stood up and followed the sound into one of the guest rooms. The door to the bath was only half-closed. He pushed it the rest of the way open with the toe of his right foot and leaned against the door frame. Terry yelped and grabbed at a soapy sponge, holding it in front of her large, jiggling breasts.
"Oh," she sighed, throwing the sponge at him and sinking down in the water. "Don't sneak up on a person that way. You almost scared me to death."
Charles laughed and picked up the sponge where it had bounced from the wall and tossed it with a splash back into the tub.
"Were you expecting someone else?" he asked, stripping off his clothes and stepping into the bath with her. "Holy shit! Why do you have the water so hot?"
"Because I want to cook your balls and eat them for dinner."
"I believe it," he responded, stretching out his legs and resting a foot on each side of her hips. "You've already cooked yourself lobster-red."
Terry leaned forward and began lathering his chest with the sponge. "In that case, you can eat me.
"Not a bad idea," he said, stabbing a foot gently between her legs. "Except I don't like soap in my food."
Charles had known Terry off and on for the last several years. She would come to the penthouse when he was in town and sometimes they flew to the Keys together for fishing. Terry liked active sports almost as much as he did. Perhaps that was why their relationship had lasted so long.
They understood each other's life-styles and were comfortable around each other, neither expecting or wanting anymore than they already had. Terry's career in modeling kept her busy most of the time and she was completely devoted to it.
As Terry washed his body with the sponge, Charles leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He wanted to relax and enjoy it, but he couldn't stop thinking about Brenda. He needed to do something that would take his mind off her. Sex with Terry was the obvious answer. He looked at her ripe body as she scrubbed him. Her breasts danced heavily, dipping their nipples in and out of the water as she hovered over him, her knees supporting her weight. She hummed contentedly as she worked, smiling to herself, her tongue snaking out occasionally to lick at droplets of water.
"Eat me, Terry!"
She stopped scrubbing and looked at him. "Here?" Her expression suggested eating him when his cock was covered with water might be difficult. "How?"
"Pretend you're a fish." He pushed her head under water and held her down until she consented by sucking his penis into her mouth. He let go of her head then and let her come up for air and go back down as she pleased. Once she got started, the idea appealed to her and she bobbed her head up and down in the water enthusiastically, the water sluicing down her face and hair when she came up for air. He felt his cock grow stiff in her mouth, its head swelling and filling her so fully that she couldn't get her lips complete ly closed around him and bubbles trailed up on each side of his massive shaft. It was a new and unique feeling and he wondered why he had never thought of it before.
Her head dipped down into the water like a feasting tiger shark. Water swelled up in waves under Charles' armpits each time she dipped her head. He felt her teeth rake down the shaft of his organ and her tongue caressing the underside of his hot flesh as his rubbery head sloshed into her throat. She kept her eyes closed and when she raised her head, her mouth formed a gulping pink circle as she drew in air and dived back down, splashing waves of water all the way out of the tub onto the tile floor.
Charles placed his feet on the edges of the tub and lifted his hips just enough that he could add action of his own each time her head came down and he felt the sucking contact with her mouth. Her fingers ran down the inside of his legs; her nails raked his skin. When she reached the center of his legs, she gripped his balls in her left hand, circling his scrotum with her index finger and thumb and milking down gently with her other fingers. Her right hand reached beyond his balls and plowed between the tensed muscles of his buttocks. Her index finger stabbed at his anus. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm under her and back toward her own crotch.
"Play with yourself," he ordered.
Terry reached her hand down and separated the curls covering her freshly scrubbed cunt. She drew her fingers inside the lips of her pussy and traced the line of her slit up to the already distended clitoris. She slashed and raked at the sensitive node with her nails. Charles could tell she was fast reaching a tense peak of excitement. He cupped her breasts, splashing up and down in the water, in his palms. He kneaded their firm mass with his fingers, feeling their satiny texture. He pinched and rolled her pointed nipples between his fingers.
In his balls, Charles felt semen churning and eager to explode into her mouth. He held back, tightening the muscles at the base of his penis. He altered the rhythm of her bobbing head by pinching her nipples tightly and using them like reins, pulling down on her breasts, stretching them penduously when he wanted her face pressed underwater against his crotch, and pushing them up against her rib cage when he wanted her to bring her mouth up to work on his purple head. Alternately stretching and stabbing her breasts. Charles slowed the up-and-down movement of her body and created a gentle, rhythmic slapping of the water against the sides of the tub.
He made it harder and harder for her to raise her head above the waterline. He pulled on her nipples, forcing her to stretch her breasts painfully to get her lips into the air for a fresh breath. The panic brought her closer to orgasm. Her fingers worked feverishly at her clit, massaging the pink organ to a frantic pitch of tension. She dipped her fingers deeply into the slit of her cunt and hunched her hips forward as though she wanted to impale herself on her own hand. Her hips ground forward faster and faster, creating a crisscross current of waves splashing storm-like on the surface of the water.
Charles couldn't hold back the flood of cum from his balls any longer and with a final thrust of his hips, he unleashed an enormous amount of whitish, viscous fluid into her mouth. As his cum shot into her, he saw her own body convulse into frenzied contortions as her orgasm erupted at the same instant that his did. His semen spurted into her mouth over and over again to be swallowed hungrily into her stomach.
When it was over, they both lay exhausted against opposite ends of the tub, straddling each other with their feet. Terry gulped air rapidly and smiled at Charles. Her breasts floated ponderously in front of her, rising and falling with her breathing. Charles stared back at her, knowing he should feel contented, but he didn't. As soon as his climax had subsided, his mind had gone back to thoughts of Brenda. He had a beautiful, sensuous playmate in the tub with him and all he could think of was that he might have offended some girl he had seen only a few times in his whole life. It didn't make sense to him, but there it was.
"What's wrong?" Terry asked. "You don't seem yourself tonight." She climbed out of the tub and began drying herself with a large bath towel. "As much milk as you just gave me to drink, I'd think you'd feel pretty drained, but I didn't think it would take your mind away. What are you thinking of?"
Charles shook his head and turned away, thinking. He looked back. "Go get me the telephone. I want to reserve the next flight back."