Chapter 2
Janet's gown dung to her firm, smooth skin as if by magic. It was an expensive evening dress, one from Halston. That particular designer didn't manufacture dresses, he handcrafted them individually. And it showed. The effect was startling and made Janet stand out in the otherwise ordinary crowd.
The cocktail party had started like any other she had attended until she began to look at the ridiculous little nametags and started remembering the people.
"God, you're Sara!" she'd exclaimed as she met her oldest and best friend in high school. The woman had a mousy look, almost a beaten appearance. Janet couldn't get it through her head this was the vivacious, extroverted friend who had confided all her secrets and, in turn, been confided to.
"Janet! Wow, you look like a million dollars! That dress!" Sara's eyes took in the full effect. The deep neckline revealed the twin swells of the woman's ample tits, almost to the coppery disks of her aureoles -but not quite exposing the nipples -and went down to the trim waist. The cunning design allowed flashes of nylon-clad thigh to show as she moved, and Janet moved in just the right ways to send the soft shimmers of cloth swirling around her lush body.
"I'm jealous," Sara said at last. "You've changed for the better. I've gotten sort of frowsy."
"I wouldn't say that, Sara," Janet lied. "You look the same as you always have."
"That's right. I haven't changed at all and you've changed for the better."
Janet stood there, shocked. Sara was absolutely right. The others around her hadn't really changed one iota from high school. Gotten older, sure, and in some cases a lot fatter, but they were basically the same as they had been ten years before. Not so with her. Janet had taken herself firmly in hand and made herself into the beauty she was. The basic good looks had always been there, but she hadn't learned how to highlight her good points until she was in her early twenties.
And most of the people seemed content to be insurance salesmen or, in Sara's case, nothing more than a housewife. Janet had driven herself through college and graduated in the top one percent of her class. That had been quite an accomplisliment. And it hadn't stopped there. She wasn't satisfied with what everyone else accepted as being good. Janet demanded greatness of herself. And she was coming close to getting it. A promotion in the office was coming up and she would get it. She had to.
She would be the youngest junior vice president of Vickers, Elliot, and Winter in history. And she had earned it.
She excused herself from Sara's admiring and somewhat jealous gaze and walked across the room. Janet felt the eyes of all the men on her as she moved easily through the crowd. She had all the moves of a dancer and used that easy, fluid motion to attract attention when she felt like it.
Janet felt like it now.
Her motives for coming to this boring cocktail party at a posh hotel had been vague until this moment. Then she knew why she'd bothered to come. She was curious about the others -and she wanted to gloat. She had been zilch in high school. The guys seldom thought of her when they wanted a date on Saturday. She had been the mousy sort that Sara had turned into. She wasn't the good looker that Diane, the homecoming queen, was. She didn't have enough brains to appeal to Bill, the class genius. Janet had been dead level zero mediocre.
And had risen above it.
"May I have the honor of this dance?" came a cool, confident voice from behind. She turned and looked over her shoulder. For a moment, she didn't recognize the man.
Then she blurted out, "Ron! How are you!"
"Better, now that I've found you," he said, his arm snuggling around her waist in the way she remembered from high school. She fought down the desire to thrust her hand into his pocket as she'd done ten years earlier. But from the way Ron looked at her, she doubted if he would have minded one bit.
His eyes drank in the full glory of her beauty. The perfect hairdo, the off-the-shoulder dress which magically hung onto her skin, the neckline that would have been declared illegal in fourteen states, the trim waist and the slashes in the sides of the dress that occasionally gave a glimpse of something very interesting up around her hip.
"You must like my dress," she said, smiling a dazzling toothpaste smile at her old boyfriend.
"Hate it," he confided. "But I love the person filling it out!"
"Same old Ron," she laughed. She gasped as his arms went around her waist and spun her out onto the dance floor. They moved together well during the waltz, their bodies rubbing just enough to tell Janet that Ron was getting one hell of a raging hard-on. She resisted the temptation to press her leg against the bulge in his pants -or even to reach down and squeeze.
When the music changed to a quick disco, Ron tried to lead her off the floor. Janet protested, "No, Ron. Let's dance. I love moving to this beat. Bee Gees' song," she said, seeing he didn't recognize it. "It's called. Night Fever and that's what I'm getting."
His eyes gleamed but he shook his head. "I don't know these new steps. So let's go and do something about this fever of yours. I have to admit I'm getting a bit hot, too."
"And not under the collar," Janet said, looking down significantly at his crotch.
Another man whom Janet didn't know came up and asked, "Care to dance since your friend is sitting this one out?" Janet glanced at Ron who shrugged, then felt her own body responding. Dancing would get her into just the right mood.
"Sure," she said, going onto the dance floor with the man. He wasn't anywhere near as good a dancer as she was, but it didn't matter. Janet entered a world of her own, feeling her body move, her arms swinging, her tits tracing out invisible figure eights in the air in front of her chest. Most of all she liked the feeling of her legs scissoring back and forth in time with the music. The song was perfect for fucking. She and Clark had done it to the music several times. And she had gotten so hot she would had fucked herself on a phone pole if she'd found one handy.
"Thanks," she said to her unknown dance partner, who was sweating profusely from the strenuous dancing. She was hot, but not overheated. She quickly went to the table where Ron sat, talking to a few people she thought she recognized but didn't know.
The dancing and the sight of the bulge in Ron's pants got to her. She wasn't going to be content with simply sitting and sipping a watered drink and talking with used car salesmen and insurance agents. She wanted something more exciting.
Like Ron's prick.
She dropped under the table, the tablecloth hiding her from view as she moved down the chairs. When she found Ron, she pressed his legs open. He started to say something but the metallic hiss of his zipper going down the track stopped him. He didn't know it was her under the table, and he wasn't about to embarrass himself by crying out, "Who the hell's pulling my fly open!"
She fumbled around inside his pants until she found his prick. It was as big and hard as she'd thought it would be. She had been close to the stereotype of a fainting virgin in high school. She had never gotten up the courage to allow Ron to fuck her then. It hadn't been till she was in college that 'a stud had popped her cherry. She hardly remembered it, having gotten stoned out of her head on grass before the momentous act. But it had awakened her slumbering desires. She had become a woman, a woman who needed quality in fucking as much as in the other things in her life.
She cradled the half-erect prick and breathed heavily on it. She felt it begin to respond both to her touch and the hot air gusting past it and surging through the tangled mat of his bush. She stroked gently up and down the length, studying the prick as if she had never seen one before in her life. Janet wanted to make this as good for Ron as it would be for her.
"And then, uh, I, uh, I forget what I did next," she heard him say as she squeezed down on his cock.
"You look pale, Ron. Can I get you another drink?"
"Uh, yeah, thanks, Fred. I need another one. It . . . it's getting mighty hot in here for me."
'And it's going to get even hotter," Janet whispered, so that only Ron could hear her. She squeezed even harder on the meaty cylinder and felt the cock grow under her ministrations. The purple knob on the top of the prick pulsed now with virile life. She stroked across the big blue vein on the top of the cock and felt the distant heartbeat accelerate as she made it plain to the man what she intended to do.
"Thanks, Fred, you'll never know how much I needed this drink!"
She watched him gulp the drink down. She decided it was about time for her own needs to be satisfied. She clamped her mouth firmly to the end of the man's prick and sucked as hard as she could. For a moment, she thought he was going to lose control and jet his wad into her mouth. That would have been exactly like in high school. The teenaged stud getting his first piece always blew his load before either he or his chick were the least bit satisfied.
Janet smiled around the plug of cock in her mouth. She hadn't gotten a thrill like this out of eating prick for more years than she cared to remember. The threat of discovery added to the pair's delight. Ron had to keep his passions under control and try to keep up the conversation in as normal a fashion as he could. And Janet didn't want anyone else to know they were doing this, either. That secret added to her own searing desires.
Her cheeks went hollow from applying so much suction to the end of his pecker. She tasted the aroused male musk and couldn't help herself. She started licking his cock as if it were some meaty, tasty popsicle. She curled her tongue around the thick circumference and worked her way down to the base. She traced the outlines of his cock, giving special attention to the pulsing blue vein on the top. She managed to smooth out a few of the wrinkles in the skin; his cock hadn't been fully erect until she began licking.
"Th-then I, oh, the hell with it. Tell me all about the used car business, Fred," she heard Ron say. She knew the man must be having a hard time keeping his face calm. She knew she was giving him a hard time. The cock under the woman's tongue proved that!
She managed to pull his balls out of his pants. The loose bag containing his nuts was a prime candidate for her mouth love. She sucked the limp sac into her mouth and gently gnawed on the contents. The man's ass lifted off the seat, and she had to strain to follow the motion of his body. Her head banged against the top of the table. She heard him making apologies and then settle back down. She kept his sac in her sucking mouth the entire time. She teased and toyed with the balls trapped inside until the hairy little sac started to compress. It contracted into a hard little sphere with the balls tumbling and lurching in the stew of his sperm and semen.
She licked the wrinkled skin again as she gently pushed the balls from her mouth. It was fun getting the man hot but she wanted his prick where she could get the most out of it. She kissed and nibbled and licked her way back up the side of his trembling shaft.
The woman covered the end of the bobbing prick with her ruby lips. Then she slowly sucked the huge glans into her mouth again. A blonde cascade of her hair fell across the man's lap. She felt his hands come under the table and stroke across the luxurious mane of hair. His fingers laced through it, and he began guiding her in a face-fucking rhythm he liked the best.
For a moment, Janet didn't want to go along with that rhythm. It was too constrictive for her. She wanted the full freedom to get him even hotter, and, when he could no longer take a single instant more of her mouth love, then she would let him guide her head in the way he wanted.
She shook her head and moved away. She licked with her rough, wet tongue up the underside of his cock. The man groaned and his hand started to' tremble. She guessed he was having a hard time keeping up even a faint appearance of interest in the conversation with the used car salesman and his shrewish wife. Janet loved the feeling of power she got from this cocksucking. All through high school she had been the one who followed. Now she was the leader. She called the shots. She had blossomed in the years since graduation and had become a complete woman; even more than that.
She was beautiful. She was successful. She was powerful. Most of her classmates seemed firmly rooted in mediocrity. None of them were trying to get the good things in life. They seemed content to drift along and merely exist. Not Janet. She demanded the best from life. The woman had learned this was the only thing that pleased her in the long run.
Quality.
And Ron's prick certainly was high quality, as it possessed a definite amount of quantity. The ponderous weight of his meaty, virile prick jumped and bucked under the woman's nose. She stroked lightly, teasingly, with her fingers along the damp shaft. She inhaled and felt tremors pass throughout her body caused by the heavy male musk.
The way her pussy was beginning to drool, she knew she would have to fight hard not to drag Ron down under the table and fuck him right there. The blonde reached down and hiked up her expensive skirt. Not for the first time she damned the pantyhose she wore. They were comfortable and usually convenient, but not now, not when she wanted to run her fingers in and out of her pussy.
The elastic band at her waist expanded, and she managed to get her fingers down and press them into the well-oiled slit between her legs. She sighed. Dragging her fingers along the labia made her sigh and gasp in abject need.
"What was that you said, Ron?" asked the used car salesman. "I thought you groaned. At least it sounded that way."
"Ummm, uh, nothing, Fred. Really." Ron looked down under the table to see if Janet was all right. The man felt her fingers gripping furiously at his cock, but her mouth had left him cold and lonely. He had to cover up her stray moans of joy and try to keep the conversation going along as coherently as possible.
Which wasn't easy.
Especially when her blue eyes stared up at him in sheer and total lust. He started to motion her away from his cock but she wouldn't do it. Her ruby lips clamped firmly around the tip of his dick again, and she sucked for all she was worth. The man sighed and leaned back in his chair, completely unable to say a single word.
Her tongue swirled around and licked avidly at the cleft head of his huge cock. Sucking harder, she pulled a full inch of it into her mouth. Her tongue tormented the piss-slit as she tried to drive her tongue all the way down into his cock. Then she quickly changed her tactics and cradled his tongue with her rough, pink oral organ.
She face-fucked herself slowly. As her desires mounted and she felt his cock begin to jerk and dance with virile need, she face-fucked herself faster and faster. Soon the woman's blonde head was a blur as she drove that meaty spike of cock into her face.
"Nice," moaned Ron. "So damned nice! I just wish . . . "
"What's that Ron?" came the worried voice. "You don't look good. Not at all."
"Shut up, Fred. I think he looks just fine."
Janet vaguely understood that Fred's wife was smarter than he was. She seemed to know what was going on under the table. The woman might not approve openly of it, but at least she wasn't going to interfere with Janet's giving Ron a blowjob.
"Let's go up to our room, Fred. I think we can find something more exciting to do there than sit around in a bar and talk."
"But . . . "
Ron smiled as the woman pulled Fred out of his chair and almost dragged him along to go back to their room. He was glad to see them go, for whatever reason. He could now enjoy the wet, sweet mouth moving so avidly on his erect cock.
"Go, baby, go!" he said softly. "Give me all the mouth love you can because I'm not going to be able to hang on much longer." His fingers laced through the luxurious blonde hair again. This time she didn't mind him guiding her head in the exact fucking motion he loved the most. His hips began lifting off the chair to drive his swollen, throbbing prick into her mouth.
His balls had tightened to a hard little sphere. Locked inside, his balls tumbled and lurched in the thick stew of his jism. He groaned louder as Janet's rough, dexterous tongue began sliding up and down on the sensitive underside of his cock. With the suction she applied and the motion of her lips against his shaft, he couldn't hold his come back any longer.
His prick exploded in her mouth like a stick of dynamite detonating. He groaned, slammed his hills upward in an attempt to permanently impale her face. He wanted to rip her head off, using only his prong. She was moving easily with his every spastic jerk. Her tongue toyed with the tiny flap of skin dangling under the cleft head of his glans. The man's fiery come spattered against her tonsils and kept coming, pumping hard to fill her mouth.
She sucked: She sucked hard to get every single drop of the man's tasty come. The one gobbet of come had shot to the back of her throat and missed her tongue entirely. She couldn't taste his jism that way. Her tongue pressed firmly into the end of his fountaining prick to insure each and every drop, from them on, would smear over her taste-buds. She rolled her tongue around the thick purple bulb of his glans until she was totally satisfied with the acrid, salty taste of his come.
When his cock had gone limp, she gently licked it off and tucked it back into his trousers. She rezipped his fly and squirmed up and sat next to him at the table.
"Do you do things like that often?" he asked.
"Sure."
"Must be fattening, eating so much come."
"Only twenty-three calories per meal," she said, smiling. A little dab of his jism still spotted her lips. A quick motion of her tongue captured it. She leaned over and kissed Ron full on the lips. They were both able to share the taste of his come, then.