Chapter 3
I'd overstayed my lunch hour but the Boss beamed benignly. "Get the executive habit," he chuckled genially. "Long lunches give a man confidence. He feels he's running the business, instead of clocking in on the minute." A week earlier he'd ranted like Hitler when I was five minutes late.
But now I was a prospective son-in-law he could afford to be magnanimous. He'd already fixed it for me to marry Janet the same day I married Lillian, but an hour later and in another part of London. If I had a car, and a police escort blasting a path for me, I'd just make it.
The Boss put on his hat. "They're cutting a new disc at Appletrees," he told me. "Ring there if I'm wanted. Meanwhile, find me a smash-hit." He chuckled and slapped my back. "We've got to pay for your wonderful honeymoon some way!"
He hurried away. I tiptoed to my office and slipped inside. Janet was in the Boss's office. I hoped she hadn't heard me.
A vain hope. Five seconds later my door opened. She smiled lovingly, her eyes enormous behind her pebbled glasses. Sweat glistened on her moustache, and the long hair of her mole sprouted aggressively. The temperature soared and the smell of cunt gushed out at me from between her legs.
"I've been thinking, Mike," she said solemnly. "We mustn't screw in the office. It's too dangerous. It'll give the business a bad name."
I couldn't believe my ears. I was reprieved. Yet she made sense. Yesterday, two nuns had wandered into the office with a charity collecting box. Nobody was around so they'd peeked into my office. Janet had me braced back over the desk.
The nuns were so shocked they just stood there, gaping at Janet's frenziedly pistoning buttocks. Then they screamed like train whistles and ran for their lives. During the afternoon a wholesaler had walked in on us. He wanted to make a deal for stocks of old records.
Janet had me on the floor at the time, straddling me, with her head towards my feet. She'd just brought me to the boil. As I spurted she climaxed. The wholesaler was a worldly man. He waited until her convulsions ceased. Then, when she relaxed and ground her loins around so her tight pussy would re-arouse me, he'd coughed politely. "Excuse the interruption. I'd like you to know I've called." He thrust a visiting card into Janet's sweaty hand. "There's no hurry. I'll look in another time." He'd raised his hat and left.
No harm had been done. But a lot of people in our business are squares. They might feel us too frivolous, and un-businesslike.
"You don't mind do you, darling?" Janet asked tenderly.
I could have shouted with joy. Pumping spunk into Janet for most of my office hours seriously interfered with my work. And I had Ruth to think about too. She was a standing date. But I wasn't so stupid I showed delight. I scowled. "It's a shame!" I shrugged my shoulders. "You're right of course. We must protect the business."
"I don't want to disappoint you, darling."
"We'll get together some time," I mumbled.
"So while we're in the office we'll just play with each other. Then you won't feel frustrated."
"Play with each other?" I asked faintly.
She locked the door. "Bring your chair over and sit down. We won't undress. If anyone knocks we can open the door in seconds. Callers won't be suspicious!"
She sat me primly on a chair and sat facing me. Her knees touched mine. She took off her glasses. She had lovely, melting eyes. "You do love making love to me?"
"Love it," I whispered.
She unzipped her dress to the waist, exposing her beautiful breasts. She leaned forward, her hands upon my thighs. Her breasts hung like luscious fruit. She closed her eyes. "Fondle me!" she whispered dreamily.
My bastard prick twitched happily. And I shared its eagerness. Her gorgeous, dangling breasts screamed out to be fondled. A delicious quiver ran through her as my fingers tingled upon satin skin. I fondled her left breast first. I cupped it in my hand and raised it until its full weight nestled in my palm. The skin was warm and moist. I slid my other hand up into her armpit, teased the sweaty hairs and then trailed my moist fingers down to her breast, getting a good grip on it from above, as well as from below. I squeezed rhythmically. She hissed and arched towards me.
A firm, substantial breast provides considerable scope for fondling hands. I fondled her breast in a dozen different ways. I held it firmly, lifted it high and circled it around. I pulled it downwards with increasing pressure until the pectoral muscle was strained taut. I tumbled it with my fingers so it bobbed up and down, shivering like jelly, I stretched it like elastic, relaxed it, and stretched it again. I did so many lovely things, she whinnied and enjoyed a small orgasm even before I touched the nipple.
Janet's nipple was quivering with exquisite sensitivity. Her breast was so toned up, the nipple felt frustrated. Its halo was very large and pink, and stood out from the milky skin of her breast. The halo was normally crazed with wrinkles. But eagerness strained it taut until the wrinkles were ironed out and the pink skin was satin-smooth. The nipple was enormous. It stood out starkly, very hard, and flushed dark red. It was as stiff as my prick. Every wrinkle was ironed out by the tension of its erection. Its dome-shaped crown was ultra-sensitive and the first whispery touch of my fingertip gave her another little orgasm.
That nipple was a joy to work on. I teased, tantalized and taunted it. I pinched it with finger and thumb, wound it up, and then unwound it. I pulled it upwards and downwards, then outwards and sideways. I rolled it with finger and thumb like a cigarette. Then I used both hands, fondling the breast as well as its nipple. It was so moving she hunched forward, yielding up her breast in a sensory-drugged coma. She had so many little orgasms, so quickly, it was like one long climax.
I love making a girl come, fondling her until she's faint with pleasure. It's a thrill to know every fiber of her body "is responding to my stimulation. I was enjoying myself so I took my time. I finger-teased her nipple until it was the core of all her sensuous pleasure before I leaned forward, eased her dress off her shoulders and kissed bare skin. She jumped as though I'd branded her.
I trailed my wet lips down to her armpit and burrowed into it. My senses were intoxicated by her hot, peppery woman smell. It excited me and my tongue foraged avidly, licking into the deepest hollow of her armpit filling my mouth with black, glistening hairs and even chewing them to squeeze out their essence. She had a strong sweaty taste that was an aphrodisiac. I sucked her armpit until it was licked clean of all flavour. Then I ran my tongue along the pectoral muscle, and licked over the slope of her breast. It was tormenting ecstasy for her , ... and for me.
Her breast had its own, womanly, peppery, milky flavour. I licked it clean, right down to the halo. And when I licked under it, into the crevice caused by breast overhang, the flavour was so strong I licked in a blissful, post-climax-trance. I turned back to the enormous, taut nipple. I made a feast of it. Having it throbbing in my mouth turned me delirious. It was out of this world for her. I licked it so lovingly that she responded gently, her little orgasms like sighing breezes. But when I sucked frenziedly she climaxed with wild, orgiastic writhings.
I slobbered her tit out of my mouth. It hung heavily, glistening with my saliva, its enormous nipple still erect and darkly flushed. But it had tired from so much attention and I turned to her other breast. I weighed it in my hand. It was full and creamily soft. But she pulled my hand away. "Make me feel nice in other ways, darling," she whispered. She leaned back, closed her eyes and let her arms hang limply at her sides.
Her knees were touching mine and her skirt was rucked up. The skin on the inside of her thighs was very soft, but sprinkled with long, sleek black hairs. Her legs were clamped together. I placed the blade of my hand in the crevice between them and she jumped as though I'd let off a pistol. Then her thighs slowly parted under the weight of my hand and it sank between them until I could stroke the insides of her thighs. The soft skin there was ultra-sensitive. As my fingertips whispered across it, her thighs parted even more. Presently both my hands were whispering up and down inside her thighs which were splayed so wide apart her hip joints were almost out of their sockets.
She was wearing pale blue nylon panties and with her legs wide-splayed the gusset looked six inches wide. It was sopping wet, swimming in glistening drool that trickled down on to her skirt. Long, black cunt hairs sprouted out either side of her panties and were stuck to her wet thighs. I'd been inhaling cunt aroma so long my brain was steeped in it. But smelling it hot from the oven made my senses swim anew.
I was all alone. Janet was far, far away, sprawled back limply, breasts heaving and her wide-open legs an enchanting, total surrender.
I ran my fingertips up her calves and up along her quivering thighs, hooked them in her pantie waistband and drew it down. Her cute little ass lifted up in reflex action. But peeling her panties away from her crotch was difficult. The nylon clung like wet flannel, There were liquid, glupping sounds, and her knees and calves, as well as my hands were slippery with goo when I peeled off her panties over her shoes. At once her thighs strained wide again, starkly exposing the hot, pink slit within her crotch. She'd squirted so much cunt-juice it filmed her groin as well as her thighs. Her bush of thick, long hairs was soaked in sexy juice. She slumped back looking as though a bucket of molasses had been sloshed over her cunt. I wadded up her panties, mopped up the puddle on her skirt, and dropped the panties on the floor. They landed with a weighty splash. I didn't mop up her crotch!
She looked drugged, the way she sprawled back, with her legs shamelessly wide-flung. I pulled my chair up close until my knees were touching her chair. I slid my hands under her buttocks, lifted and pulled her towards me. She slid lower in the chair and her bottom rested on my thighs. Her legs hung down either side of me and her hairy crotch was within easy reach. Her cunt gaped, steaming and giving off it's pungent, intoxicating aroma. Long black hairs clung to it like a treacle curtain. I parted the hairs, stroked-them upwards and pressed them flat over her groin and abdomen. A lot of the hairs that lined her slit were snarled up inside it. I drew them out and smoothed them over her thighs. When all the hairs were smoothed away I got my first good look at her crevice.
What a gorgeous cunt! My blood boiled. Her outer love-lips were swollen up ripely with desire, all creamy-skinned and burning. She had a little orgasm when I took them firmly between fingers and thumbs and pulled them apart. Her inner love-lips were stuck to them and came apart at the same time. They looked like thick rose petals with crinkly edges. I ran a tantalizing forefinger around and around the crinkly edges. It slithered sweetly in the hot juice and her loins pistoned gently in response to the stroking. It was a lovely pussy to fondle. It was so sensitive, and thrilled so easily, my excitement was continually soaring. Merely whispering the tip of my finger around the crinkly edges of her love-lips made her come. When I gripped them with fingers and thumbs, and strained them apart with increasing pressure, she had a monster orgasm. When it was over her crotch looked even bigger. It gaped open like double-doors, her love-lips sagging weakly on their hinges. The mushy interior was big enough to sink my fist into.
It was her idea we play with each other. I was happy for her to have all the orgasms, and I enjoyed playing with her. But it was also self-teasing. I had a tremendous erection. My cock was trapped tight inside my pants and the bastard drooled with glee, convinced that all this stimulation must end in climatic ecstasy.
What a pussy! Spread open Mice an enormous mussel! I ran my fingers around inside it as though scooping cream out of a cup. Its slippery hotness made my prick twitch. I stirred her up, whisking my fingers around busily. She gasped and panted and her hips jerked every time I fingered an extra-sensitive spot. Her loins pistoned and her belly sucked in and out. I whisked faster and her pistoning loins pumped out love drool in a steady trickle.
I stirred her up like pastry in a pudding basin. She was working up to another climax and I could tell by the way her muscles tautened that it would be a big one. I wanted it to be a big one. I kept whisking. My fingers became an eggbeater. Love-juice foamed, frothed and squelched, its slippery texture thickening to cloying stickiness. Foam lathered up around the rim of her pussy while my stirring-up fingers met increasing resistance as the mixture thickened. It was almost clotted when she climaxed.
It was a bronco-bucking climax. Her loins reared up and lunged forward so powerfully her crotch hit my stomach. She rammed it against me with powerful bearing-down movements that almost forced me backwards off my chair. I grabbed her buttocks and clamped her crotch against me to help keep upright.
What an orgasm! She had at least a dozen long, convulsive spasms. Each time, hotness scalded my skin. When she finally collapsed, sprawling weakly with her pussy stuck right under my nose, my shirt was drenched with drool. It was such a mighty orgasm it finished her. She lay limply. Her limbs were as heavy as lead. It was a long time before her shuddering gasps eased to deep breathing.
I wanted to play with her again. She wouldn't let me. She sprawled limply on my lap for all of five minutes before she disentangled herself, found a hand-towel in my desk drawer and mopped up, "That was gorgeous, Mike!" Her beautiful eyes were dreamy and her flushed cheeks radiated happiness.
"It's a lovely pussy," I said sincerely. "Let me fondle it again."
"Not right now, Mike. Anyway, now I want to do you!"
She safeguarded against interruptions. She wiped away the drool on her hairy calves and thighs and smoothed down her dress. She wrapped up her gooey panties in a towel and put them away in a drawer. Then she drew up a chair and sat down alongside me.
"I'm going to tantalize you exquisitely, Mike," she promised.
I sprawled back happily and my prick yelled 'Tip-pee!" It was already so excited my pants threatened to split as it strained erect.
"Look at him," she cooed. "Isn't he patient? Quietly simmering all this time, waiting for his turn!" She touched its knob lightly with her forefinger. Even through my pants it felt like the kiss of an angel's wing.
"I love making a fuss of you," she confided. "I feel nice and dreamily relaxed now, so I don't want you to touch me. Yet. But I love making you excited." Her fingers rested lightly upon the shaft of my prick and gently slid it up and down. My prick twitched and throbbed. "Nice?" she asked.
"Like you said. It's tantalizing pleasure."
"It's nice for me too," she said dreamily. "I press my thighs tightly together while I'm doing it. It's groovy."
"Can't I slide my hand up your leg?"
"Not yet, darling. It's nice as I am. Just a gentle thigh-squeezing." Her fingers went to my belt, pulled, and unbuckled. Deft fingers snapped open the top button, my zip opened down to my groin and my fly sprang open. A white Jack-in-a-box tent sprang out through the opening.
"I daren't pull down your trousers, Mike. Somebody might call. It's different for me. All I have to do is stand up and shake down my skirts. You'd have a terrible job with this monster tangled up in your underclothes.' "Don't worry," I soothed her. "We're not fucking. It's simply playtime."
Her hand went to the rounded crown of the tent. Her palm descended squarely upon it and circled around softly. The tent grew another two inches and the fabric strained to splitting.
"It's burning hot, Mike," she said dreamily. "Even when it's all swathed up."
"It doesn't have to be," I pointed out.
"But I do want to tantalize you, darling." She used her forefinger, gently scratching its nail around and around the top of the tent. The sensations communicated to my knob through the material of my jockey-shorts were delirious.
"I'll make you come very slowly, Mike."
"Fine," I murmured. My eyes were shut and my face imbecilic with joy as delicate nail-scratching tantalized me with excruciating exquisiteness.
"I'll work you up slowly. I want this big monster throbbing and swimming in love-juice. I want all its lovely, hot cream spurting into my mouth and flowing down my throat. All those gorgeous vitamins swelling me up with desire."
She was talking herself into a little orgasm. Her chair creaked rhythmically as she squeezed her thighs together. There was the squishy sound of wet love-lips rubbing against each other, and the smell of cunt was suddenly very pungent again.
Her fingers pried coyly, found the trap to my jockey-shorts and stole inside. They circled around, rustling the short-and-curlies as her finger and thumb opened like pincers. They found the fleshy stub of the root of my cock, and closed around it. My prick quivered mightily, threatening to tear out through the roof of the tent. Her fingers and thumb slid up the shaft until they could grasp it firmly. "It's so powerful it's frightening, Mike," she whispered.
I grunted. I wasn't in the mood to talk. I relaxed in the arms of sweet sensations.
She used her other hand to pry the tent pole out from within the tent. The traps of jockey-shorts are made so a flabby prick can be easily extracted from its lair. But my bastard prick was standing at attention, and pulling it out through the trap got it tangled up and half-throttled. Janet wrestled grimly but only succeeded when my jockey-shorts split. That was an advantage because when she tucked them down under me, my balls as well as my cock were starkly exposed.
Not for a moment had she slackened her grip on my prick. Her fingers steadily tightened, squeezing strongly. The lower part of a cock's shaft is its least sensitive area. She knew about pricks. Her tight squeezing there, with a hand that didn't move, maintained pleasurable sensation in a low-response erotic area. It was a stabilizing influence, steadying any tendency towards a climatic upsurge. It left her-other hand free to perform its special magic. Its forefinger teased up and down the blue vein and her grip around my cock seemed to tighten. But it hadn't; it was my prick swelling with joy. Soft fingers whispered up and down my shaft, circled around and around stealthily, and crept up to my knob, My knob twitched. Her fingers teased up over it, slithered across its crown and probed into its tiny orifice. I was breathing so deeply I snorted. The very core of me was deliciously tantalized. Between my legs was a hot oasis of wonderful sensations that skillful fingers artfully intensified.
The probing forefinger became moist and sticky and circled more widely, spreading the slipperiness, often returning to the orifice for more love-drool. The whispery touch of the slippery finger made every nerve in my body scream with joy. Her other hand squeezed rhythmically, encouraging love-goo to flow. Her forefinger often went back to the orifice. Her hand was as hot as my knob, and she kept squeezing and dabbling her fingers in my drool.
She painted my cock right down to its root Then she circled it with finger and thumb and frictioned up and down. My love-goo oozed copiously and her hand was bathed in it. The more slippery I became, the more easily she frictioned. And the better she frictioned, the more I oozed. When my prick was well-juiced up she used both hands, skimming them up my shaft, and slithering her goo-soaked palms across the knob. She was an artist. She knew to a hair-breadth how to rub me up without letting me come. My cock swam in prick-juice, and my balls floated. She cupped them in one hand and tumbled them around like slippery eels. Her magical fingers performed a wonderful variety of sexy tricks. She really did play with me! My prick was her toy. She massaged, rubbed, tweaked and frictioned. She had both hands stroking in opposite directions, while caressing my balls and my knob simultaneously; she gripped firmly and gave long, stretching tugs, and then nursed and stroked it soothingly, after its rough treatment. Again and again she almost brought me to the boil, but slackened off at the last instant. But my pleasure finally reached the explosion point.
She gauged accurately. "Darling," she whispered. Her hands were quite still, gripping my shaft restrainingly.
I gave a low groan.
"You're ready to go?"
I nodded dreamily.
"Give me a minute, darling."
The magic of her fingers melted away. I opened one eye. She adjusted her chair conveniently and crossed her legs so she could squeeze her pussy between them. She licked her lips in anticipation. I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd tucked a napkin into her neckline. She reached out like a greedy kid lunging for a cookie. Both hands grasped the lower part of my shaft firmly as though she was scared it might jump off my lap. She took a deep breath and her head came down. Her lips parted and her open mouth hovered over my knob. She huffed.
I closed my eyes and cooed. My prick drooled. Her long, hot tongue curled around my cock and greedily lapped up the goo. She replaced the goo with saliva. It was like having my prick washed down and repainted. She saved the knob until last, licking it clean, pursed her wet lips into a big pout and pressed the pout down upon my knob. The pout slithered over my knob and then it was bathed in a swirl of hot saliva.
My prick gave a great lunge and almost escaped her detaining hands. It rammed deep into her pout and its knob almost plugged up her throat. She jerked her head up, still clutching my shaft with a powerful two-handed grip that ensured no more prick-thrusts. Then she held my knob lightly in her mouth, swirled her tongue over it, bathed it in saliva and sucked gently.
Heaven was my big, fat prick simmering in the mouth of a girl who sucked like an angel. This was heaven. Janet sucked like an angel.
I lay upon a hazy cloud of exquisite sensation, floating ever higher while her swirling tongue promoted me ever upwards, deliriously swirling in hot saliva with delicious tonguing until I was not drifting, but soaring, faster and faster, speeding like a jet plane that's turning into a rocket with all-absorbing suction to which I yielded wildly, spurting and spurting, jetting higher and higher with every spurt while the wild stabbing of my prick was beautifully restrained. My prick reared up like a maddened bronco but her powerful, two-handed grip mastered it. She clung to the monster, absorbed its unleashed strength as it surged out at her, sucking and swallowing hot liquid oysters with loud soup-gulping relish.
Her hands and mouth clung to my prick like a clam. My spasmodic, spurting convulsions tried to tear me free. But she clung tenaciously, possessing me completely, and sucking like an angel. As I spasmed, she sucked with the same degree of suction that I spurted. Her body became part of mine, and what I fed into her mouth she swallowed as though it was hers. As my spasms diminished her sucking adapted, gearing down intake to synchronize with output. When I lay back limply, her cheek rested upon my abdomen and my flabby cock nestled happily inside her mouth. She gave me precisely the right amount of time to recover, then pulled my knob out of her mouth. She sat up straight. "Do I suck nicely?"
"The best ever."
She reached for a hand-towel, wiped a streak of come off her chin and then cleaned me up. She dried my short-and-curlies, playfully tweaked my balls as she wiped away her saliva and then wrapped up my limp cock in the towel. She squeezed it to dry it, as gently as a mother handling her babe. She tucked my prick away inside my jockey-shorts, arranged them carefully, zipped up my pants and' buckled my belt. "You came beautifully, Mike," she approved. "I couldn't have swallowed another drop." Her eyes glistened. "It's a lovely flavor. It's got me all excited again."
As she re-arranged her chair I saw a wet stain on the back of her skirt. Her pussy-squeezing thighs had yielded results.
She sat facing me, legs spread wide, her shoulders braced against the chair and her arms hanging limply. She closed her eyes. "Lick me," she sighed.
I knelt and slid up her skirt. As I lowered my head into a hot musky mist of pussy-fragrance I reflected that playing with each other was a lot of fun. But I wouldn't get much work done.
Then as I closed my eyes blissfully and the tang of musky cunt tingled on my tongue, she spoiled everything.
"It'll be wonderful after we're married, Mike," she said dreamily. "You'll be able to do this every night!"