Chapter 3
"You're going where?" Rick Burley asked, incredulously.
Christine Fairmont giggled.
"The home for wayward girls," she repeated. She struck a pose, her hip shot out and her hand on her hip and one leg angled, as if she were standing under a street lamp looking for customers. She was a pretty young woman with auburn hair, gray eyes and a nicely rounded body.
Rick gaped at her, dumbfounded.
"It's for a story, silly," she explained. "Ah!"
Christine was a reporter for the local newspaper, young and eager and rising in the world of journalism.
Rick was her boyfriend.
She said, "Josh ... the editor ... got the idea. There have been a few rumors about the home, about what goes on there. Maybe just gossip, maybe not. Things like ... oh, some of the girls sneak out or sneak men in; young men lurk about the place, waiting for wantons. Things like that."
"Ummm. I don't know as I like this idea very much. I suppose the director of the place knows you're a reporter? That you aren't really wayward, I mean?"
"Of course not. That would defeat the purpose. I've got to convince everyone that I'm an immoral little tramp so that I'll be treated the same as everyone else. How else will I find out the true story? The director--a fellow named Watson--comes into some of these rumors, himself, you see. A bit of a lecher, if not worse. Leering at the girls, sneaking around trying to get a look at them in the showers or on the toilet. Anyhow, I'm going to find out if it's true and write an expose."
Rick looked glum. He didn't like the idea of having his girl play such a role.
"You don't even look wayward," he said.
"Wanna bet? I bought some sluttish clothing--on my expense account--and some bright red lipstick and sexy underwear." She giggled. "I think it will be fun, pretending to be a tramp."
She saw that Rick was scandalized.
"Oh, don't be silly, Rick," she said. "It's not as if I were really going to be a tramp. It's the same thing as an actress playing a role, is all. And it's my job."
"I guess," he said.
They were in Christine's apartment. She had just returned from her shopping expedition and there were bags and boxes on the couch. She began to open them, grinning.
"Want me to model my slut clothes for you?" she asked.
He scowled and grinned at the same time.
"You can pass judgment, Rick; tell me if I look properly wayward and immoral."
The grin won out over the scowl.
"Okay," he said, for although he wasn't too keen on having her play at this game, he saw that it would be exciting to play it with her, in private.
He sat down in an armchair, lighted a cigarette and waited for her to start modeling.
Christine was wearing a beige tweed suit and her hair was done up neatly and her face was well-scrubbed. She didn't look at all like a tramp. But she possessed all the necessary attributes for the role, all the sexy parts. She took her jacket off. Her big, firm tits thrust out in her silk blouse. She took the blouse off. She unzippered her skirt and let it drop and stood in her bra and panties. These undergarments were moderate things, neither sexy nor demure, not very exciting. But her body was splendid, her hips flaring out from a tiny waist, her legs shapely and tightly muscled, her tits supported together in deep cleavage at the inner circumference of the globes.
She removed her bra.
Rick's eyes gleamed and he licked his lips. Without support, her tits did not sag at all; they thrust proudly out, the nipples arrogant little nuggets. She took her panties off.
Her pubic triangle was curly and thick and dark with reddish overtones. Her taut ass was like a teardrop, sweeping gracefully out from her narrow waist and then cutting sharply in to the backs of her thighs.
Rick's cock began to tense.
They had been lovers for several months but the sight of her naked body still aroused him greatly. But she certainly did not look like a tramp, she looked wholesome and healthy, sexy but not sinful. Nor was she playing the role; she moved without exaggerated postures or poses as she selected her new garments.
"Excuse me a moment," she said.
With an armful of clothing, she went into the bathroom.
Rick waited, his cock hardening, then relaxing a bit, then getting hard again.
When Christine came back into the room, he gasped.
She had let her hair down; it cascaded across her cheeks, loose and wild. She had painted her lips scarlet, and made up her eyes, putting on false eyelashes that fluttered seductively. She wore a short leather skirt, high black boots and dark mesh stockings; a wide belt and a sleeveless, low-necked blouse. Her nipples pressed against the blouse. She stood before Rick and began to grind her hips and toss her head so that her hair flowed across her cheeks. She parted her lips and showed the pink tip of her tongue. Her long-lashed eyes narrowed in a simulation of lust, the lashes going up and down, mocking the passionate, come-hither look of a loose woman. "Well?" she asked.
"Wayward," he pronounced. "Definitely wayward."
"What do you think of these?" she asked, and she lifted the hem of her leather skirt.
Her panties were crotchless, red silk bikinis with an oval cunt-out that framed her cunt. She tilted her pelvis forward and parted her thighs so that Rick could look right at her bared cunt. Her cunt lips were pink and moist and her clit was tight. It occurred to Rick that she was carrying this role to its logical extremes-getting into the part, as it were.
"Oh, wow!"
"Sexy, huh?"
"Yeah, but ... but you aren't gonna let anyone at the home see you in those, are you?"
She hesitated, then said, "No, Rick ... not while I'm wearing them." She averted her gaze. "It's just in case the director might sneak a look in my drawer. Maybe he's kinky for panties. Anyhow, it's part of my disguise-I couldn't go there wearing modest panties, could I?"
"I guess not." He didn't like the idea of having another man look at her in those crotchless panties but he guessed it was okay if someone just saw them in her drawer.
She struck a whorish pose and said, "Hey, big boy ... looking for a good fuck?"
"Yeah!" Rick said, falling into the game. "A sexy babe like you, why not? What's it gonna cost me?"
"That depends on what you want, sailor. You like a little French? Straight fuck? Half and half?"
"Where'd you learn those things?" Rick asked, falling out of the role again.
"On the streets, buster, where else? I been fucking and sucking since I was twelve and I love cock!"
"You ain't gonna really talk like that, are you?"
She shrugged. She was enjoying her play acting and thought that Rick was being stuffy and prudish. But she didn't want to make him angry or sulky, so she said, "No, not really. I'll just stand around looking wanton and see what happens."
"How long do you plan to stay there?"
"Only a couple of days. Talk to the other girls, see what Watson gets up to. Might be fun."
"Huh!" he snorted.
"You'll be a good boy while I'm gone, won't you?"
"Nope. I'm gonna buy myself a zoot suit and a key chain and stand around on street corners looking for women to seduce into white slavery."
Christine clapped her hands delightedly at that absurd image. Rick was pretty straight-laced.
But he was horny, as well, and she could see the tumescent lump in his pants.
"What do you want to do with that?" she asked.
"Got any suggestions?"
"Well, now. Let me think. Want to put it in something nice and hot and wet?" She rotated her hips. "Want me to lend you my cunt for a few minutes, honey? Nice big lump like that, I won't even charge you."
Rick saw that there were certain benefits to having his girl pretend to be wanton. It had all the advantages of being with a sex-mad trollop without the dangers. Christine, although she enjoyed sex, had always been pretty conservative and most of their fucking was done in the missionary position. He figured this was a golden opportunity to experiment.
He stood up and opened his fly.
His cock rushed out like a bull into the bull ring, eager to gore soft flesh on its solitary horn.
He said, "I only got time for a quick bang, kiddo, so why don't we do it against the wall?"
"You talked me into it, you sweet-talking bastard," said the girl reporter, grinning with her scarlet lips. "Too bad we don't have a lamp post and a brick wall and a couple of trash cans, but what the hell?"
Rick dropped his pants and stepped out of them. He pushed his shorts down, fumbling to get his cock back inside the opening in order to remove them, then pulling the elastic wide to circumnavigate the impending prong. Christine was giggling at these gyrations-and wiggling along with the giggling, for the sight of his awkward movements might be amusing but the sight of his big dick was also stimulating. Her hips rolled slowly from side to side and her trim belly pushed in and out, just as if she already had a cock stuck up her cunt. Christine had truly fallen into her assumed role and she was enjoying it. She had never been a lewd girl and her sexual encounters were few. Rick was the first young man with whom she'd had any sort of steady sex life, in fact, and she was modest and shy most of the time. Wearing the painted mask and the suggestive clothing of a wayward girl had freed her from her inhibitions and allowed her to behave out of character. Or perhaps it was the character she would have liked to have, had she not had those inhibitions.
Naked now, Rick advanced upon her with his dick out in front of him like a bowsprit before a sailing ship.
Christine was still fully dressed and she had no intention of undressing, for in removing her bizarre clothing she would be removing her mask; naked, she would be herself.
She reached out, hand open and palm up, and let his dick slide into her hand like a car into a parking slot. She began to rub up and down the underside of the cock, just skimming over him at first and then push-pulling more firmly. His cock began to thunder in her hand, the knob flaring.
Rick cupped her tits, massaging them through the blouse, then sliding his hands inside.
She rubbed the head of his dick against her belly, working the tip into her belly button. His cock was tingling as if he had batteries in his balls. Her smooth tummy shimmered. She lifted her leather skirt and began to rub his cockhead against her thighs and pelvis. His hands moved down from her tits, stroking her flanks and circling around to cup her ass and draw her loins forward. They kissed. They were both panting and they kissed hard, panting into each other's mouths.
She rubbed his cockhead against her cunt, where the sexy panties gaped open in an oval.
Her pussy was creamy; his pecker was throbbing; they were both ready to fuck but neither of them had ever fucked standing up before and weren't quite sure how to go about it.
Christine rose up on her high-booted calves.
Rick dipped his knees.
His cock slid into her crotch then but it was angled wrong; it lay flat along her twat, like a parallel bar on which she was perched.
She wriggled on that meaty stick, thighs tensing. Her cunt sucked greedily on the horizontal shaft, eager to be filled, but it would not go in from that angle. He had to get lower or she had to get higher.
Then she had a better idea.
She dismounted from his cock. Freed, his dick snapped back up to the proper fucking angle, towering before his belly. The dorsal surface of his stalk was glistening from contact with her pussy and the knob was glowing a bright, angry red.
Christine spun around, turning away from Rick. She leaned over from the waist and placed her hands on the back of the couch. She flipped her nimble ass up and looked back over her shoulder, wide-eyed and smiling seductively.
"Do it this way," she suggested.
Rick was ready to do it anyway whatsoever; his cock was turbulent with need and his balls were bloated and surging.
He lifted her leather skirt above the waist.
He started to pull her panties down, then realized that, with the crotch cut away, there was no need to remove them.
He fitted the head of his cock into her cunt and began to rub it around in the parted slot, holding it by the root and working the tip over her clit and through the creamy gash. Her hips jolted and she arched her slender back, lifting her ass--and, therefore, her crotch--a bit higher.
He gripped her by the hipbones, turning her pelvis from side to side and then pulling back. His cock began to push up her hole, unassisted, as he dragged on her hips, pulling her cunt over his cock like a tight boot over a foot.
Her cunt sucked at him, pulling him in, the inner muscles fluttering closed around his cockhead and hauling on his stalk, the lips clutching tightly around each new inch of cock as it was fed up her, then relaxing to allow another inch to enter and repeating the damp caress.
Rick grunted, braced his thighs and slammed the full length of his prick up her hot pussy.
"Oh!" she gasped, at the sudden shock of complete penetration; then, softer and undulating: "Ooooooh."
She began to thrust her haunches and roll her ass.
Rick was up her to the hilt, holding steady for a moment while she ground her ass against his belly. Then he began to fuck her with short, sharp jolts.
Meeting stroke for stroke, she rammed her crotch back as he plowed in. Her cunt was wringing his dick as he slipped it to her and massaging it as it was withdrawn. Cunt juice, pumped out by his big plunger, streaked her unfurled cunt lips and ran down her trim thighs in silvery ribbons. His belly was damp as the hot juice sprayed back.
His balls swung between her legs like the dewlap of a rutting moose, slapping into her crotch as his belly slapped against her pounding ass.
Christine took one supporting hand away from the back of the couch and, reaching between her thighs, cupped his balls. She squeezed lovingly, pulling him in by the balls, as if she wanted him to plunged deeper up her hole. But he was already banging his cock in to the hilt on every thrust.
He still held her by the hipbones, steering her nubile loins. He hauled her ass back as she dragged his balls forward and his supercharged cock glided up her channel to the roots.
Usually, Christine was a silent fucker.
Now, in her new character, she said, "Fuck me, baby ... fuck, fuck, fuck ... feed it up my hot hole, Rick, honey ... give me all of that sweet cockmeat...!"
Rick was momentarily startled by this new verbal dimension to their fucking.
Then, grimacing with the sensation of depraved lust, he rasped, "Take it, bitch! Take my prick up your juicy snatch, you cock-loving nympho!"
His words fed her passion; her words inspired him.
"Come in me!" she wailed. "Fill my cunt with that hot, thick cum! Cream up my hole!"
She rammed her ass back. Her cunt enveloped him and a fine mist of pussy juice sprayed out over his loins while thicker ribbons of juice poured down her thighs.
Christine was coming.
Long lateral waves of sensation were passing across her belly and breaking in her crotch. Her nipples were incandescent as light bulbs and her clitoris was glowing like an ember. Her movements became erratic and spasmodic as the waves of release came in faster sequence, peaking higher each time, each wave running quickly into the next until it became one prolonged surge of lust that swept through her pounding belly.
Rick felt her cunt melt around his cock.
He began to bang the rod to her furiously as he sought to catch up to the girl, to come with her. His balls swelled mightily with his seminal lead and his cock felt like a heated crowbar as it pried up her wet cunt.
Christine squeezed his balls as she dragged him up her hole. She was still mouthing sounds but they were wordless now, little gasps of passion and whimpers of desire.
Her cunt lips were almost turning inside out as he drew back, then he plunged in, stuffing her pink labia up her hole right along with his prick.
He began to moan.
Electric impulses ripped up his thighs and a maelstrom of lust swirled in his belly.
"Gonna ... come ..." he gasped.
She wailed and her ass bucked savagely.
Rick's balls exploded and the hot sap rushed up his cock and spurted from the knob in a violent geyser. Christine felt the thick joy juice splash into her womb. Her cunt responded, opening and turning to liquid as she creamed heavily, her cunt juice gushing out to blend with his jism.
Jolting in frantically, Rick poured a second heavy dose of cum up her box. A second deluge flowed from the girl. Her hole was filled to the brim with cum and cunt juice; it overflowed, bubbling, from her pussy.
He fed her a third wad of cum.
Drained, he dropped his head, holding himself steady while the reporter wriggled on his cock, grinding her wonderful climax out to a conclusion.
They clung together for a few moments, like mating dogs not able to uncouple.
He was thinking: It's fun to have a wayward girlfriend.
And Christine was thinking: It's nice to be a tramp; I've missed out on plenty of thrills, being wholesome....
It was true.
Christine had never been fucked from behind before; she'd never enjoyed much in the way of foreplay, other than the fingering and fondling of hands; she had never sucked a cock nor had her cunt sucked. She had never been reluctant to dabble in such refinements, and had often thought about them, but her sexual experiences were limited and the matter had simply never arisen. Someday, she supposed those things would happen. But as she had always been too shy to initiate them, Rick would have to start it--and Rick, taking her at face value, didn't imagine that Christine would be willing to experiment with the variations of love.
Now he drew his spent dick from her cunt.
It slithered out through the sticky lubricants. The head popped out and juice flooded up in her vacated gash.
When she turned around, Christine was flushed with lust. Rick thought she was blushing with embarrassment at having been so carried away by passion and he grinned sheepishly at her.
It had all been a game, he knew--Christine was not really a wayward girl.
And she knew that, as well; she knew that this had been a rare occasion inspired by the clothing and the cosmetics she wore, rather than by any impulse towards the sensual. But she almost--almost --wished that she were wayward.
Because it had sure been fun.
Christine changed back into her tweed suit. They didn't talk about the uniquely thrilling fuck they had just had. She washed the heavy paint from her face and they went out to dinner. She was prim and proper; he was polite and thoughtful. When they returned to her apartment after dinner, they went to bed.
They fucked with Rick on top, wordlessly.
And neither of them enjoyed it nearly as much as they had enjoyed the standing dog-fucking when she wore the clothing and the make-up of a lewd woman....