Chapter 4
After an hour or so of bringing in drinks and watching the men play, she became bored with the game. With the game, not with the men. There was something fascinating about the men's faces, so studiedly impassive, as they registered the worth and possibilities of each card dealt in their minds, then made their bets. Their concentration seemed complete, and there was something at the same time frustrating and exciting about being left so completely out of the activity that engrossed them so.
But just the reality of her being there, the only woman in a room full of men, excited her. The sound of their voices alone had an aphrodisiac effect on her, and she found herself crossing and uncrossing her legs, squeezing her warm, moistening pussy. Occasionally, one of the men would glance appreciatively at her long, smooth, sensuous legs, so openly on display under the short skirt she was wearing, then look back at his cards. She began to feel an unreasoning, intensely female jealousy toward the cards.
After about two hours of watching, she decided to do something about her inanimate rival, the lifeless oblong bits of plastic the men seemed to find so fascinating. But just as she was considering what move to make, Don Winthrop, as if he'd read her mind, gave her the ideal opening. She realized when he spoke how strong she'd been making his drinks.
"You ought to be congratulated, Jeff," Winthrop said, addressing himself across the table to McNally. "Lynn is the loveliest hostess we've had here yet."
She hadn't put her glasses back on after discovering that she'd left them off in the kitchen.
"Isn't she?" McNally said, looking pleased. Like Columbus after he'd discovered America, Lynn thought.
The other men around the table turned to look at her, nodded, and smiled. Lynn flushed, but she was pleased and excited. Why, she thought, should compliments courage straight down to my crotch?
"Thank you," she said, and got up out of her chair and did a little-girl curtsy. Except that there was nothing so little-girl about the way her breasts jiggled and bobbed, the upper slopes swelling whitely out of her low-cut peasant blouse. It was the only thing she'd had handy to wear that evening.
"Lovely, Don Winthrop said, looking unabashedly at the softly bobbing swells above the top of her blouse. "I can think of only one thing that would make Lynn lovelier."
"What's that?" the large Mr. Bellows asked innocently.
"If Lynn were topless. You hear a lot about top-less waitresses these days. I'll bet Lynn would put them all to shame. Or back into Mother Hubbards."
Ah, Lynn thought. So that's the real game. Not poker. But strangely enough, she didn't feel flustered by the veiled suggestion.
"I wouldn't want to interrupt your game," she said boldly.
"It wouldn't interrupt the game," Jeff McNally said, putting down his cards.
"Even if it did, it would be a worthwhile interruption," another of the men said. Mr. Denthos, his name was. Taught Latin or Creek or something at the high school. He was almost as old as McNally.
"You must be putting me on," she said. But she knew they weren't putting her on. Especially Don Winthrop. He kept crossing and re-crossing his legs, much as she'd been doing, and looking both eager and uncomfortable.
"We're not putting you on at all," Mr. Denthos said.
"Not a bit," Winthrop said. Lynn noticed that he had started to sweat on the forehead and upper lip.
"You're so incredibly lovely," Mr. Bellows said. "It would be a great pleasure for all of us to see more of you."
"If it's modesty that's making you hesitate, my dear," Jeff McNally said, "forget it. Modesty went out with bathtub gin."
"It isn't modesty, exactly," she said. "It's just that it's all you men, and I'm the only woman."
"But such a lovely young girl," Mr. Denthos said. "You should be proud of your body. Happy to let us see it."
"Some of the other girls have done it," Mr. Bellows said, and she looked at him sharply. "We've made it worth their while," he said hastily, "with a part of every winning pot. It can add up to a sizeable sum, especially when you compare it to the going rate for baby-sitters."
Lynn saw Jeff McNally look over at Bellows and frown. She was about to blurt out that she didn't care about the money, she couldn't be bribed to take off her clothes, but she thought better of it. She was very excited at the prospect of having all these men looking at her body. And she could pretend it was the money she was after. What did they know about a librarian's salary?
"Well . . . " she said.
"That's a good girl," Jeff McNally said, a satisfied smile appearing suddenly in his beard. He sounded as if he'd said the words before.
"Who'd like a drink?" she irked.
"I'm ready," Don Winthrop said.
"Me, too," Mr. Bellows said. Don Winthrop gave him a long look.
"One at a time," he said. "Custom-made service, from here on in. Don't you want Lynn to keep busy?"
"I see what you mean."
"You don't yet," Lynn said boldly, taking Winthrop's empty glass. "But you will."
She took her time making Winthrop's drink in the kitchen, thinking, how can you face all those men, bare-boobed? What will they think? Well, other girls have done it, obviously. Much younger girls, too. And men that age must just like to look. Except maybe Don Winthrop. He'd had a discernible hard-on for the last half hour.
She hesitated for a long moment after the drink was made, then reached back and took the clip from her hair in back, then shook it loose, letting it fall down her back and around her head along the sides. She felt better already.
She took off her blouse and the wisp of a half-bra she'd put on for the occasion. Her breasts sprang free, pouting upward, the nipples tightening and winking pinkly. What have I got to lose? she thought, and carried the drink into the other room, her breasts bobbing joyously.
They all stared as she put the Scotch and soda on the table next to Don Winthrop's right hand, bending over farther than. she had to. The hand on the table twitched, she noticed, but stayed where it was.
"Gorgeous," Mr. Bellows said.
The teacher named Denthos said something in what sounded like Greek.
"I could use a drink now, Lynn," Jeff McNally said, watching her rose-tipped bosom bouncing as she came around the table to take his glass. "In fact, I think I'm going to need this drink. I feel a losing streak coming on."
His hand very casually brushed one nipple as she took his glass, and she looked down to see it coming tautly erect "Now, now," she said. To the deepening, hardening bud. Not to Jeff McNally. When she got back to the kitchen she found that she was shaking a little in her excitement They kept her busy, bringing their drinks one at a time, and they drank much faster than they had earlier in the evening. They presented her with half the winnings of the first two hands after she'd taken off her blouse and bra. She didn't want or need the money, but she took it as if that's why she'd consented to make the topless scene in the first place.
The second time she brought Don Winthrop his Scotch and soda with her bare bosom bouncing he reached up and cupped her near breast gently in the palm of his hand before she could straighten up and away from him, and kissed the quivering stiff bud of the nipple, tonguing it tenderly.
"Oooh," she said, involuntarily, but didn't jerk back or show even a token flash of anger. "You're playing poker, remember?"
"I forgot, for a minute," Winthrop said, picking up his cards.
The fifth player, a Mr. Montagna, had had little to say all evening, but the next time she brought him a beer, she felt his hand slide up under her skirt, in-side her thigh from the back. She gave no outward sign to the rest of the men at the table, but brought her legs together, squeezing his hand softly between her thighs, before he reached her pussy. It was all wet, she knew, a dead giveaway to the way she felt.
"You're still wearing too many clothes," Mr. Montagna said, keeping his hand between her thighs, squeezing the smoothness against his palm.
"I second that motion," Mr. Bellows said. "The whole pot in this hand is yours, Lynn, if you'll give us a better look at that wonderful body of yours."
"We'll see," Lynn said, and went back into the kitchen.
It didn't take her long to make up her mind. Her wonderful body. She knew what they wanted to see, and touch, probably, but she didn't care. Her excitement had taken over. A reaction, maybe, from her week of horn-rimmed glasses and tight-back hair as the sexless librarian. Oh, well. Tomorrow a librarian again. But tonight's tonight. And she wasn't, kidding herself. She was enjoying the whole scene, all that attention, worshipful attention, from a room full of men.
She opened a can of beer, then took off her skirt and hung it on the back of a chair. Her panties were bikini-style, cut high at the hips, making her legs look even longer than they were, the swell of her thighs more voluptuous in their graceful, curving ripe perfection. Through the almost-transparent white nylon of her panties, she knew the swelling mounds of her ass and the crevice between the cheeks showed through clearly. Her crisp brown bush was very evident through the transparency, and even the dusky pinkness of her cunt lips was clearly defined, made even more evident by the dampness at her crotch.
Well, if they wanted to look, she thought, they'd have plenty to look at. She went back into the dining room, carrying the beer.
"Good God," Don Winthrop said.
"You're too much for the poor . people," Jeff McNally said.
She found that she was absolutely un-self-conscious about her near-nakedness as she set the beer on the table. Her breasts bobbed, her nipples perked up pinkly, and her twat fairly twinkled at them through the sheer nylon of her panties, but she found that she didn't mind a bit. She was enjoying herself thoroughly as she pranced around the table in her high heels, her long white legs flashing, and picked up another emptied beer can.
In the doorway to the kitchen, she turned to them. Five sets of eyes were riveted to her lithe young body, and without knowing why, except that when she was very excited she had a compulsion to tease men, she did a slow, tantalizing grind and bump. At the end of the bump she held the position for a moment, her pelvis thrust forward and upward, the lips of her pussy open and moistly visible, she knew, through the adhering non-concealment at her crotch. Then she turned swiftly and disappeared from their lecherous view into the kitchen.
When she returned to the room, the deck of cards lay neglected on the table.. They had given up all pretense of playing poker.
"Lynn," Jeff McNally said, "would you do us the honor of going one step further?"
"Why not?" she said, smiling broadly. She felt completely wild, abandoned, totally wanton. She slid her panties down along the outside of her hips, tantalizingly, then bent and slid them all the way off and stood tall, her legs apart, her almost visibly quivering cunt thrust forward and upward.
"Lynn," Don Winthrop Said, shifting around in his chair to face her squarely, not taking his eyes away from her pouting, pink-lipped pussy, "you can't stop now. We all want you."
"Want me?" she asked, still teasing.
"You know. Want you."
"Want to fuck me, you mean?"
She looked at their faces when she said it, and some of the stiffness went out of their expressions. But not out of their pricks, she was sure.
"Yes. To fuck you. In the vernacular." That was Mr. Jeff McNally, the English teacher, speaking.
"Not in the vernacular," she said. "There's a better place than that.'
"There certainly is."
"Would you like to be the first, Jeff?" It was the first time she'd called this nice, respectable library lover by his first name., "Honored," McNally said.
Smiling, she moved around the table to him, and perched the yielding white roundness of her ass on the edge of the green felt table covering. It felt warm and itchy against the smoothness of her skin.
"There's something I'd like you to do first," she said, looking down ',into his bearded face, intent now, not smiling. He licked his lips. He had the idea already.
"What?" he asked.
"You know," she said. "Kiss it first"
He hesitated a moment, looking around at the other men watching him, then bent forward and very slowly extended his tongue, then gave the open lips of her wet cunt a long, deliberate lick, stopping--it the tender swelling twig of her clitoris and stiffening his tongue against it.
"Oooh," she moaned softly, almost gratefully, and lay back with her elbows on the table and spread her legs wide. 'That's very good, sir. Now lick it. Suck it. Gobble my whole ever-lovin' cunt."
He spread her twat-lips wide with his fingers and began to lick and suck the tender pink mass of quivering pink membrane his fingers exposed. She squirmed her hips, and heard them begin to make bumping noises on the padded table top. His beard tickled the sensitive skin on the insides of her upper thighs. More than just tickled. It itched.
"That's enough," she said, squeezing his head between her legs. "You know what to do now."
He withdrew his head reluctantly, giving her now-pulsing clitoris one last diddle with the stiffened tip of his tongue, and stood up. He dropped his trousers and undershorts together to the floor and stepped out of them with the hasty agility of a much younger man.
Lynn looked immediately at his cock, expecting it to be flaccid or semi-erect, but it wasn't. It was at least as rigid and stiff as any she'd seen in some time.
And it was a good-sized one, Mr. McNally 's cock, with a knotty purpling head and a mottled thick shaft. He settled the-head directly in her moist, welcoming cleft, moved it up and down in the soft crevice a couple of times, getting it wet, then drove it home with one long, unhesitating, slow plunge.
She gasped, and locked her heels behind him. He drew back and then began driving his thick, hard shaft into her with long, slow, even, relentless strokes. She fell into his rhythm immediately, and surged forward to meet each in-stroke, moaning happily. She was dimly aware of the other men standing in a semi-circle around' the English teacher, watching intently as his shaft slid in and out of her clutching cunt-lips.
She was surprised at herself, at her total lack of self-consciousness, surprised that having those eyes on her intensely personal pleasure did nothing to detract from it. In fact, their watching seemed to heighten her delight, intensify the soaring heat of her sensations.
Jeff McNally lasted a long time inside her, fucking her slowly, expertly, his cock plunging deeply, insatiably, into the gulping soft wet oven of her steaming twat. She held her own climax in quivering check until she felt his thrusts speed up, his heavy, unrelenting crowbar of a cock seeming to reach deeper into the welcoming well of her cunt with every slamming stroke. She screamed, thrusting up to meet him, holding his thrusting hips tight with her legs, as she came to her shuddering orgasm and his sot liquids spurted deep inside her.
She lay back then, shivering, and let the after-math of her orgasm wash over her in diminishing waves of sensation, releasing the grip of her legs around his body. He straightened, and his softened, sated prick slid from her warm, wet cunt with a tiny plopping sound.
"Mmmmmm," she murmured softly. "Beautiful."