Chapter 3
At last Greg finished coming, but his cock didn't feel lifeless at all. Indeed, it retained most of its rigidity as Sigrid continued to smile at him. He stared at the mess that was plastered down her front.
"Look at you," he half whispered.
"You'd better clean me up," she commanded, a look of false anger on her face.
"Of course." Again he was following her, through the living room, past the gymnasium and into the small bathroom, where she turned to him. "What should I do?" he blurted.
'Take charge," she snapped, dropping her hands and standing before him.
Greg licked his lips as he moved behind her. There he fumbled with heavy fingers until he got the knot of her halter untied. The slight garment sprang from her body and dangled loosely from her neck. He was back in front of her, staring down at those breasts as she lifted the halter over her head.
Those were beautiful breasts, he realized, surely as beautiful a pair as he'd seen in his life. They had large brown nipples and they were remarkably high and pointed for their size. The upper slopes were a delight to behold and the heavy lower curves were exciting. He wanted to test their weight in his hands.
"Here," she said, beckoning to him. She pulled the damp T-shirt over his head and then she jerked at his half-lowered jeans until they were piled around his ankles. He stepped from them and looked down. They both stared at his cock. It was right back up there, apparently ready to go again. She clucked. "I don't know what you've got, but it looks pretty tough. You're more of a man than I figured."
Greg didn't bother to reply. Instead he dropped his hands to her waist and there he opened the top metal button. The force of her belly began to spread the jeans at once. There wasn't a spare fraction of an inch. Then she slid her zipper and the forest of rusty pubic hair was in view. So she was a natural redhead.
He stared, eyes wide, and the sight of her breasts and belly rising and falling was driving him wild. She planted her feet once again and put her hands on her hips. Her smile seemed to mock him still, even though he knew she was pleased with the size of his cock.
Then he was working at her hips, rolling down the jeans. She wore nothing underneath them, of course, as he'd figured all along. Somehow an Amazon like Sigrid Taylor wouldn't be bothered with nonessentials. He rolled the jeans down over the wide flare of hips. Then he was pushing them down her thighs, pressing...pressing...
Her crotch swam into view, an exciting cleft crowned by its rusty forest. But through the forest he could see the ring of pink. Yes, she was as large down there as she was everywhere else. But he knew his cock would be large enough in its own right.
"Do you like it?" she whispered and for a moment he thought she was breaking down for him. He peered into her face, but the green eyes were still mocking. She knew she had a lot and there was no doubt in her mind that she knew she was great for any man.
"You know the answer to that," he muttered, feeling not un-like a hurt child.
He continued working, dragging the jeans over her knees and then dropping them to the floor. As he knelt to remove them she balanced herself on one foot and then the other, resting her hands on his head. While he was down there he pulled off his tennis shoes.
He was back on his feet and she was still before him, feet wide, fists on hips. "All right, big man," she hissed, "let's see if you can make me hot. You went off like a seventeen-year-old Marine on his first night out of boot camp. Me, I've got staying power. I can hold back. Come on, let's see if you're man enough to really take charge."
Greg cleared his throat and then he accepted her challenge. He would reduce her, all right. He didn't like being dominated by a woman, even a powerful woman like Sigrid. He had his respect and he'd show her a thing or two.
He leaned very close to her, but didn't touch her body. He paused, his mouth an inch from hers. He puckered his lips, but he didn't kiss her. Then he raised his hands to her breasts, fingers cupped. He allowed them to hover over each breast, but they remained an inch from her brown nipples. They did not touch.
"What the hell are you doing?" she rasped, and Greg saw the first hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "Come on, most guys would have me all pulled out of shape by now."
He only smiled a thin smile. His hands went up to her throat, still hovering, not touching. Then they passed over her breasts again, down over her ribs. He slid them around her waist and they touched over her buttocks, but they didn't graze her cheeks. He felt her quiver like a mare in heat and he smiled more broadly.
"You son of a bitch," she hissed. "Get going!"
He remained silent, bringing his hands back to the .front. He dropped them over her lower belly, feeling only a few stiff hairs catch in his fingers as he stayed an inch from her belly and then an equal distance from her cunt. He went lower and then dipped in between her planted legs. Still he didn't touch flesh while he reached under her as far as he could before withdrawing.
When his hands came out he looked into her face. The pupils of her green eyes were dancing and there was sweat on her forehead and upper hp. She licked her lips with the point of a pink tongue and half smiled. The lips weren't very firm now.
"So, what's next?" She cleared her throat, took a deep breath and waited.
It was on him in a flash. He froze, looking at his hands as though they'd turned into talons. What the hell was he doing? Christ, he was Greg Eastman, married-happily-to Karen Eastman. He had no right, no desire, even, to be playing games with another woman. Conscience washed over him and he dropped his hands. His chin was trembling and he couldn't make it stop.
"I'm getting out of here," he blurted.
Sigrid's strength rushed in to fill the void and she was abruptly in command again. As he turned to flee she caught his wrist and spun him back to face her.
"Come on, Greg, baby. Look at this body. Admit you'd love to have it. Who's going to know, except you and me? I can show you a time like you've never had before."
"No," he snapped. "I've got a wife who gives me everything I need."
"No one person-man or wife-gives the mate everything. It's just not possible, not possible at all." Sigrid had let go of him, but he wasn't running away. "Come on, I'll let you do it all, if you like. I'm not going to rape you, for heaven's sake." i
Greg swallowed but he continued to shake his head. Sigrid turned on a smile that seemed kind and gentle and, just as gently, she took his wrists. She pursed her lips at him as she pulled his hand toward her. "Come on, baby. You promised to clean me up, at least. Take that wash cloth off the bar and run hot water over it."
She let go of him and he did as she asked. He soaked the cloth in the sink and squeezed some of the hot water from it. Then he turned to her, looking down, seeing the half dried semen on her lower breasts, her belly and down into her pubic hairs. It was already turning into a white crust.
He licked his lips and then he pushed the cloth toward her. Gently he touched it to her belly and he moved it in circles. The come washed from her smooth
I and tawny flesh easily and he made larger circles until i he was up just under her breasts. They were so heavy, ; so proud, so obviously firm and soft at the same time. "Don't be afraid," she coaxed.
He took a deep breath and then he pressed the, cloth J over her right breast. God! His fingers sank in, enough I to feel the heat close around them, even though he wasn't pressing hard. He could see the outline of the nipple through the cloth, and as he pressed his palm down over it he could feel its thrust against him. It was turning hard even as he felt the brown point and it continued to stiffen as he gently turned the cloth back and forth. He then wiped off the underside of the breast until it was clean.
He sighed as he moved to the other breast and repeated the process. He wiped the nipple carefully, leaning his face close. "Go ahead, do what you want to do," Sigrid whispered, her hands on her hips, feet still planted wide. Christ but she was a proud giant.
He didn't want to do it, but that offered nipple was like a piece of candy being presented to a child. He looked at the puckered brown flesh and at the button in the center where the flesh was drawn tight as the nipple popped out toward him.
Without Greg willing it, his head came forward and down and he found himself kissing the nipple. She purred over him like a mother lion and he opened his lips. The tip popped inside and he sucked on it. She purred louder and, after a few moments, she gently took his head by the ears and transferred his mouth to her other nipple.
He pulled it into his mouth for several minutes and then he lifted his head. His cock was standing out from his body as his power flowed back into it. He may have shot his wad only a short time ago in the kitchen but, by God, he had plenty of strength left. He was ready to go off all over again.
"I'm still getting out," he rasped, but there was no resolution in his tone and he knew that she knew it. She only laughed and then she pointed down at herself.
"You're not finished with the cleaning job."
"All right," he snapped. "But then I'm cutting out before I do something silly again."
But his body was flashing different messages. His prick was like steel and his senses were roaring in his ears. He wanted more-a hell of a lot more-from this Amazon. He wanted it but he kept telling himself he didn't want it. Christ, he was a married man, a professional man. He wasn't some ass who would lay any chippy who showed herself to him.
But he wiped her lower belly and worked into her hairs. Here he had to do more scrubbing and he rinsed the cloth and applied fresh hot water. He worked lower and soon he was at the very top of her cunt. He gulped and pushed his way down until he could feel the heat and softness of her lips.
"Oh, yes," the redhead was moaning. "Yes, yes. I think it's about time I got my rocks off. After all, you've had a blast and I'm still a virgin." She giggled. "For today, anyhow."
Greg didn't say anything. He cleaned her up and as he finished he noticed that she was switched on, all right. She was moving her box in a slow circle, undulating at her hips, very slowly and gently, so that he almost missed it. She was pushing it toward him, offering him everything, holding back nothing. It was a delicious meal on a golden platter.
He found himself licking his lips again. At last he sighed and tossed the cloth aside. He stared down into that crotch, at those rusty hairs, the pink underneath, at the shine of her juices as her heat increased. She was oiled, gassed and lubricated, ready for any trip on which he cared to take her.
She smiled and toyed with his chin, dragging a fingernail over the slight beard stubble. "If you still want to run home to your National Geographic magazines, I won't stop you."
He shook his head like a man in a trance, and in a sense it was a fact He couldn't think clearly, the buzzing in his guts was too loud. His cock demanded satisfaction-again-and there would be no denying it.
At last his fingers went into her crotch and he squeezed them over her puffy damp lips, pinching them together and enjoying the look on Sigrid's face as her eyes rolled up into her head for an instant. She staggered, but she didn't fall. Her hands were back on her hips, her fists clenched, her legs planted. She was still the proud Amazon daring this ordinary mortal to try his best.
He flexed his fingers and then he brought his other hand up. He used them both to part the hairs and peer into her depths. That pink treasure house had the welcome mat out. She was secreting, possibly even experiencing some minor orgasms, but nothing heavy-not yet.
Her breathing had turned into a rasping, her lips were parted and sweat trickled down the side of her face.
The face was flushed and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. But she did not flinch. She did not lose her proud stature. He felt he could have shoved a hot poker up into her and she would have taken it without a whimper.
He extended a finger instead and shoved it up into her. She staggered again, but still she did not lose control. She was an experienced playmate, a woman who knew how to keep her game under control.
He shoved the finger all the way up and it was joined by a second and then a third finger. He rammed them up into her again and again, until she finally staggered. She lurched to one side and half fell against the sink, which she clawed at with her hands to keep from falling. He felt the convulsions start, and she was shooting into his hands. It was a single large bolt of passion and it stopped almost at once. , But it seemed to take nothing out of Sigrid. Her strength was as rock-like as ever. She stared into his eyes, hers on a level with his, and she smiled. She parted her lips and whispered, "Not bad, for a hand job. What else have you got that works?"
This," he said, pulling his fingers from her and wrapping them around his prick. It was hard, throbbing and almost as wide as a baseball bat. "This works pretty good. Would you like to find out?"
'What do you think?" she teased.
He pushed her hard against the sink and it caught her right across the buttocks, so that he could bend her back and make her hips angle forward. She leaned far back, her hands behind her braced" against the rear edge of the sink. Her knees fell apart when he tapped them, when he gave the command to get ready for his entry.
Then Greg moved between those tanned knees, up between her thighs. He allowed his knob to drag along the inside of a thigh, leaving a trail of shiny smear as his secretions wiped off on her. Then his knob rammed into her bush and pushed about as it looked for the hole.
He found it and at once he sank two inches up inside her. Sigrid sighed and smiled, her eyes beginning to glaze, although the green glitter was as powerful as ever. He thrust himself again, shoving another three inches up into her. It was a surprisingly tight fit, for she was a large woman in every way. But Greg knew he was well hung, that he never had to be ashamed of his prick. He could fill any woman.
He began to pump and he took it very slowly. She also pumped, lifting her hips and working them against his groin as their rhythm picked up harmony and they began to work as a single powerful machine.
In a minute they were stroking easily, back and forth, she drawing back as he did and then coming forward as he did so that their loins smacked together in a moist sound that was like a piston delivering energy.
"You're going to be good," she purred as he worked.
"I am good," he countered.
"All right, you bastard, you are good. Just keep going. If you let me down I'll kill you." v
"I'm not going to go down for a long time. I can keep this thing up indefinitely, as you'll see." He was talking big and he'd never spoken to a woman this way, not even to Karen. She was too good, too wholesome for smutty talk. He found it was a thrill to say anything to Sigrid that he pleased. So he added, "Fuck you."
She giggled even as she gasped. A ripple of pleasure must have raced through her. "Junior's learned a new word."
He didn't reply. Instead he pumped harder and soon he felt his sperm join ranks, line up and race forward like a line of advancing infantry. In seconds he was beginning to pump his thick stuff up into her and in that instant he felt the strong muscles inside her cunt clutch at him and suck his cock up into the gate of her womb.
They were coming together, struggling, fighting, writhing against the sink, grunting, sweating, eyes rolling, teeth grinding. He spurted into her time after time, feeling her muscles like educated fingers as they coaxed everything he had to give.
Sigrid was whimpering, but not in pain or fear. She was letting herself go, almost humming to herself, anything to hang on to the spell as long as possible. She showed Greg an orgasm like he'd never experienced before, slamming her crotch into him minute after minute, so that their mingled fluids were running down their thighs and dripping on the tile floor.
Finally they were spent and their glistening bodies sagged together. Her head was against his shoulder and he heard her heavy breathing slowly subside. At last she was normal and she lifted her head, pushing against his chest so she could look him in the eye.
"You're a good man, Greg Eastman. As good as I've seen. But how long can you be good?"
"Long enough," he boasted. "Come on, you'll see."