Chapter 7
Randy thought she was pretty hot stuff. He felt infinitely grateful to her for ridding him of his unwanted virginity, and he could cheerfully have fucked her all evening-but Dora, blushing and withdrawn, insisted that he'd better get home before his parents missed him. Randy left with great reluctance. He thought he would never understand women. One minute Miss Lane was so hot to ball that she'd practically raped him, and the next minute she was her old repressed self again.
He rode his bike back to the store to see if there were any last-minute orders, and to his annoyance there was one-Mrs. Tate. He really wanted to go home and close himself in his room and re-live every minute of his first sexual experience. He'd have to keep his mind on business for just a while longer. Mrs. Tate had put in her usual order, consisting mostly of caviar and champagne, which meant she was giving a party and would be sore as hell if he didn't show up. He made the trip in record time, narrowly missing cars and trucks, and when he got to her back yard he hopped off the bike almost before it stopped moving. He wanted to get this delivery over with so he could concentrate on his fantasies.
He pushed open the kitchen door without knocking, and there was Mrs. Tate sitting stark naked on the kitchen table. Randy stopped in his tracks and almost dropped a hundred dollars worth of champagne. The plump widow was facing him, a lascivious grin on her fat face, her thighs spread wide open to reveal her bright red, wet slit.
"Hello, Randy, dear," she purred.
It took him a moment to recover. He wouldn't have been surprised if a fully dressed Mrs. Tate had discreetly offered him another twenty dollars to come to her bedroom, but the sight of her naked on the table was really more than he'd bargained for. He swallowed hard and walked slowly to the kitchen counter where he set down the grocery bag.
"Hi, Mrs. Tate," he said dazedly.
She grinned and rolled onto her back, keeping her plump white thighs very far apart. Randy couldn't help staring at her fluffy pubic bush and the glistening red tissues of her vulva. As he stared, she licked her lips, winked at him, and slowly moved her hand down over her round belly till she was touching her furry mons. With two fingers she deftly spread the fuzzy mons lips and uncovered her clitoris. It twitched and wriggled, almost as if beckoning him to come closer. Mrs. Tate began to rub it, her face flushing and her eyelids fluttering a little.
"Randy darling," she said huskily, "would you like to earn another twenty dollars?"
Randy wasn't interested in spending much time with Mrs. Tate, but he was always interested in money, and besides, there might be a chance for him to get laid again. That would really be something, starting his sexual career by fucking two different women in one afternoon. He might be late for dinner, his parents would be pissed, but he decided it was worth it.
"Sure, Mrs. Tate," he said. "What do you want me to do?"
"Let's go to the bedroom," she said, "and I'll show you."
Randy started taking off his clothes as they went. No sense in wasting time. When they reached the opulent master bedroom on the second floor of the mansion, Mrs. Tate turned to the naked boy and nodded approvingly. "You learn fast, Randy," she said. "I like that. I detest stupidity."
He was feeling so cocky, he almost blurted that he detested fat. Really, Mrs. Tate wasn't exactly delectable with that big roll of blubber around her waist and hips, and with buttocks like two giant watermelons. Now that he thought about it, Miss Lane was much more attractive. However, he wasn't going to look the gift horse in the mouth. At his age, he had to be content with what he could get-and in addition, Mrs. Tate was paying him well for his services. He managed to smile at her.
She turned back the covers of the big bed and lay down on her back. Randy came over and crawled in on the other side. He wondered just what she had in mind this time, and she didn't leave his in suspense for long.
"Play with my pussy, Randy," she said. "Eat me."
Randy suppressed an impatient sigh. If she was horny, why couldn't they just fuck? Why did she have to play all these games first? Still, if that's what it took to get her hot, that's what he'd do. He fully intended to ball her sometime before he left. He well remembered how great it had felt, thrusting his achingiy hard cock into the tight sheath of Dora's wet blazing cunt. It would be fun to do that with Mrs. Tate. He crawled between her blubbery pale thighs and obediently began to lick her little red clit. She gave a squeal of delight. Right away her sticky cream began to flow, and Randy was glad of that. It meant she was horny, that soon she would want to fuck.
He was wrong. Angela Tate had never wanted to fuck in her whole life and never would. She didn't even like men very much, except for the money they could provide. She had married a rich man so she could live luxuriously, but she had hated what she had to do for him in return. Her late husband, Edgar, had taken her to bed punctually every Saturday night and reamed her with his disgusting big penis for fully an hour, until she was so sore she could hardly walk the next day. She'd never enjoyed it, although she'd never let Edgar know that, either. She would murmur and coo and squeak, pretending to be thrilled, while he sweated and panted over her, and when at last he came and (inevitably) patted her butt and said, "Pretty good fun, eh, old girl?", she would always manage to smile. Secretly, however, she'd hated it, and she was relieved when Edgar kicked off with a heart-attack a few years ago. It wasn't that Angela was frigid or without sexual feeling. She simply didn't like fucking. She liked to do it herself.
Randy wasn't really a man, so she could tolerate him. It was just like having another person masturbate her, and she enjoyed that very much. She liked to frig herself, but she was a lazy person, used to being waited on, and she liked it better when someone else did the work. She was very pleased with her seduction of Randy. The boy learned fast, and she could make him do what she wanted-or so she thought.
She sighed and moaned happily as the boy licked her clit into wet erection and then moved on to tongue her hot, puffy labia. This was the way she liked sex best-no hairy rough male body, no disgusting penetration, no animalistic humping. Her clit was much more sensitive than her vagina, and she could cum again and again just by having her clit played with. She was very close to cumming now as the boy rimmed and tickled her vaginal mouth and then slowly worked back to the spot she liked best, the tiny erect shaft concealed by her mons. Randy planted his mouth on the hard little bud and began to suck it, and Angela squealed and shrieked as her first orgasms ripped through her fat body. She forgot about the boy, forgeot about everything but her pleasure. She closed her eyes and succumbed completely to the delicious sensations of climax.
Thus she was taken off guard when Randy started to mount her. She wasn't even aware that he'd left off licking and sucking her clit, and he weighed so much less than she did that she didn't even feel the gentle pressure of his body as he crawled on top of her. What she did feel was the unwelcome stiff poking of his little prick in the mushy tissues of her labia. She gave an indignant squeak and opened her eyes to find the boy blissfully humping away, trying to penetrate her. Suddenly she gasped as she felt his rigid meat popping into her slick vagina. Randy sighed and began to fuck her, oblivious to her anger. Indeed, he wasn't even looking at her. He had his face buried against her plump breasts, his eyes closed, and was conscious of nothing but the new pleasure of ramming his young cock in the juicy wet sheath of a woman's vagina.
"Randy," she said indignantly, "stop that at once."
Randy raised his head and stared at her. "But, Mrs. Tate," he said, "I thought that's what you wanted. I mean, it's fun to fuck. Isn't that what sex is all about?"
Angela sighed deeply. "Oh, my dear," she said, "You're so naive. Any animal can fuck-it's up to human beings to invent something better. No, I don't want to do it. I dislike it intensely. Get off me."
Randy could have yelped with frustration. He needed to cum very badly, and his small cock and balls seemed swollen almost to bursting. Nevertheless he obeyed. She was paying him, so she was calling the shots. He crawled off her, his rigid little dick popping juicily from her hot hole, and said gloomily, "Well, if you don't like to fuck, what DO you like?"
She smiled mysteriously. "Would you really like to know? Well, then, I'll show you. Open the bedroom door."
Randy, puzzled but curious, got out of bed and trotted over to the heavy oak door and threw it open. As on his last visit, he was almost knocked down by a flying ball of fur. Mrs. Tate's little long-haired dog raced across the room and leaped onto the bed, barking excitedly. Angela smiled and petted the little animal. "Charles, darling," she said, "what a sweetie. Mamma's nice little doggie. Does sweetums want to play?"
Don't make me puke, thought Randy. He hated baby talk, especially when aimed at dogs. Charles wasn't his favorite kind of dog, either. He could respect and admire larger dogs, dogs that performed some useful function like hunting or guarding a home, but dogs like Charles were good for nothing in Randy's opinion. Hell, the damned thing looked more like a mouse that needed a haircut. He hoped it would fall off the bed and break a leg. Better yet, he wanted to drop kick it out the second-story window. He was jealous-the damned mutt was interrupting his fun, and Mrs. Tate seemed far more excited by the dog than she was by Randy.
"Let's show this bad boy our trick, Charles," she said, giggling. She turned her feverish eyes on Randy, who had come over to stand beside the bed. "Just watch this," she said. "Watch what Charles can do for me. This is much better than fucking." She opened her legs very wide and set the little dog down between them. "Lick, Charles," she commanded. "Lick mamma."
To Randy's astonishment, the dog barked shrilly and then buried its nose in Angela's wet pussy, licking furiously. It was well-trained, he had to admit. Its little red tongue did everything Randy had done, only faster and better. It flicked and licked and lapped all over Angela's hungry slit, cleaning and teasing her clit, labia, and cunt. It wriggled into her pungent asshole and lingered there, making the fat widow scream with pleasure. It snaked into her wet vagina and disappeared, while the dog's rough wet nose teased her erect gleaming clit. Angela's eyes rolled far back in her head, then closed, and a blissful smile spread over her plump face. She moaned steadily as the little dog reamed her cunt with its wriggling red tongue.
"Ohhhh," she whimpered, "so heavenly, so good-------"
Randy didn't know quite how to react. He felt there was something pretty depraved about training your dog to suck you off, but on the other hand he was young and now particularly prejudiced against other styles of life. If that's how Mrs. Tate got her kicks, if it didn't bother anybody else, then it seemed to be okay. She sure as hell enjoyed it, much more than she'd enjoyed Randy's amateurish efforts. He felt a little put down about that, but it was a hit watching her go crazy with pleasure as the long-haired little mutt tongue-fucked her cunt. He could hardly wait to tell his pals about it-IF they'd believe him. He had to admit it was pretty unbelieveable.
There was just one problem-he was still achingly horny. His small cock was so stiff that it hugged his belly, and his puffed-up balls felt ready to burst. He just had to get his rocks off somehow. Mrs. Tate was being taken care of, and that stupid little dog seemed to be enjoying itself, but there was no satisfaction for Randy. He really dug watching the kinky scene between Angela and the dog, except that it made him hornier than ever. Well, he could stand there and jack off while he watched-but he wasn't satisfied with that kiddy stuff any more. Now that he'd had his first women, he'd never be content with anything less than balling.
"Mrs. Tate," he said plaintively, "please, let me do it to you. I really need it. Just look."
Angela impatiently opened her eyes and glanced at the boy. His little peter was stiff as steel, and his distress was obvious. She felt not a bit of pity for him, however. She disliked all males, and as far as she was concerned, he could go frig himself. "Leave me alone," she said haughtily. "I don't need you. I have Charles."
Randy was desperate, and now he was getting angry. "Listen, Mrs. Tate," he said, "if you don't let me do it, I'll tell everybody that, you make it with your dog."
Angela stared at him. A sensible and practical woman, she saw from his expression that he meant business. It was very tedious, but she supposed she'd have to give in to him. She certainly didn't want a lot of nasty gossip going around. On the other hand, she couldn't bear to have Charles stop his delicious licking of her cunt, not when she was so close to dimming. She much preferred the little dog's brisk rough tongue to Randy's stiff little dick. Suddenly she had an inspiration. She reached out and seized the startled boy, dragging him onto the bed, and before Randy knew what was happening, she'd sucked his cock into her mouth. She wasn't particularly fond of this technique, either, but at least it meant that Randy wouldn't usurp Charles' place. She could take care of them both while Charles took care of her.
"Hey," said Randy, "that's not what I meant, Mrs. Tate. I want to ball. I-nhhhh____"
He stopped protesting. It just felt too damned good, having his hard little prick sucked, and he didn't care if he got into her cunt or not. Let her enjoy her damned dog. He could tell that she wasn't particularly thrilled about blowing him, but she did a competent job of it, drawing in her cheeks tightly, trapping his meat in a delicious juicy nest. She sucked hard and drew him in deeply, and he felt his glans nosing the back of her throat. Somehow he'd come to rest with his ass on her mountainous cushiony breasts, which jumped and jiggled and rubbed against his balls. The experience wasn't half bad. In fact it felt so good that Randy just let himself go. It seemed like he'd been waiting all day to get his rocks off, and he didn't want to miss this chance. Angela nipped and sucked and licked busily at his swollen prick-she was dying to get the boy off her, to concentrate on Charles-and it wasn't very long before Randy sighed blissfully and shot his load into her throat.
Angela gulped his cum hurriedly, not wanting to taste it, then shoved the boy off onto the bed beside her. Her eyes closed in ecstasy now that she was free to give all her attention to what her little dog was doing. Randy lay beside her in a half-doze of pleasure, watching the goings-on. Charles had reamed Angela's cunt quite thoroughly and was now looking for new areas to explore. He licked excitedly up and down the length of her red wet slit, then paused, sniffing, at the bumpy brown mouth of her anus. He wagged his tail happily and gave a shrill bark. Then, so fast that Randy almost missed it, the little dog wriggled his tongue into her asshole.
"AAAHHH, GOD," wailed Angela.
The fat widow writhed blissfully and shrieked her intense pleasure while her pet reamed and probed her rectum with his rapidly flicking red tongue. Randy watched in total fascination, and presently he saw Angela arch her body sharply. She appeared to stop breathing for a moment, and then she emitted a piercing wail of joy and her plump body began to convulse violently, her fat tits shaking like jello. Randy was becoming vaguely aware that women can cum, too, just like men, but this was the first time he'd really observed it closely. He was pretty impressed. He saw that her enjoyment was keen and powerful. When the spasms of her climax were over, she went limp and lay there with glazed eyes, cream seeping hotly from her cunt. The little dog Charles finished his licking and withdrew his tongue from her anus. Randy was wondering just what, if anything, the dog got out of it, when Charles proceeded to demonstrate. Howling plaintively, the long-haired creature straddled one of Angela's plump calves and proceeded to jerk himself off, his small body shaking, leaving a small pool of dog cum on her pale skin. Randy felt kind of sorry for the dog. That wasn't much of a fuck. Undoubtedly Charles would rather have done it with some receptive bitch, but Angela didn't let her precious pet outdoors or allow him to associate with ordinary dogs.
"There," sighed Angela, "what do I need with men, when I have my sweet little doggums?"
"Not much," Randy said.
Privately he didn't think men were missing much. Mrs. Tate was sort of a dog herself. In spite of the blow job she'd given him, he felt cheated and frustrated. He wanted the real thing, a genuine fuck with a willing woman. Damn, if only he'd been with Trudy this afternoon. Miss Lane was nice enough, and he'd never forget that she'd been his very first woman, but he really wanted Trudy. Perhaps next week she'd put in an order. . . .
"It's after six," said Angela. "Won't they be missing you at home, Randy?"
"Aw, shit, yeah," said Randy, leaping off the bed. His parents were really going to be angry at him. He fumbled into his clothes, raced downstairs, and jumped on his bike. In spite of his lateness, however, he couldn't resist taking a slight detour so he could pass Trudy's house on the way home. He just couldn't get the voluptuous housewife off his mind. He rode quietly through the alley in back of Trudy's house, and the first thing he saw was a lighted bedroom window. He slowed, got off his bike, and crept up for a closer look. Trudy and her husband-he assumed the guy was her husband-were in the bedroom, apparently arguing about something. Trudy was reclining on the bed in a very sexy red negligee, and the man was pacing around the room, all dressed up in a grey suit. He wore glasses and looked like a real square. As Randy moved closer to the window, he could hear what the couple was saying.
"This is outrageous, Trudy," the man said. "We can't be doing it any hour of the day. Someone might see us."
"So what?" Trudy said angrily. "What's the big deal? They'd only find out that we fuck, and that shouldn't come as a big surprise to anybody after all, we have two kids, and the stork didn't bring them. Oh, Willis, why are you such a prig? Why can't you relax and have some fun for a change? I'm HORNY, Willis, I need you! Is that so terrible?"
Willis frowned and looked repulsed. "Life isn't all fun, Trudy. I can't just follow my impulses. I have more important things to do. Tonight, for instance, I want to go over some business records, and I can't do that on an empty stomach. The children must be hungry too. Will you please go fix dinner?"
"Break a leg," said Trudy. Nevertheless she got up and stalked into the kitchen, Willis following her.
Randy sighed deeply. So that's what Trudy's marriage was like-no wonder she wanted to make it with the grocery boy. Randy would gladly have satisfied her, too, if her husband hadn't been home. She was the most exciting woman he'd ever met. Sadly he pedaled away on his bike. Maybe next week his luck would change.