Chapter 4
At the home for wayward girls, John Watson, the director, was looking at the files on the two new girls who were arriving the next day.
Watson was a tall, elegant gentleman with swept-back hair, greying at the temples and an arrogant Roman nose. He wore a Brooks Brothers suit and a rep necktie.
Connie Caruthers, the housemother, had just brought the forms into Watson's office. She stood beside his desk while he looked at them. Connie was a redhead with a stern sort of face and huge tits. She wore a white cotton blouse and a blue skirt that sheathed her haunches very tightly. As she waited, she shifted her weight from foot to foot and her wide, firm ass strained at the material of her skirt. There was a curious ambiguity about the woman. Her stern face seemed the type that would be strict and domineering, a martinet who kept close tabs on the inmates of the home, a guardian of morality and a staunch defender of chastity. Yet she wore deep red lipstick and her eyes were bright with the sort of suggestive gleam that has nothing to do with righteousness.
Watson looked up, grinning.
"This Wilson girl sounds interesting," he said.
"Yes. I've checked with her school. Apparently she's an incorrigible little minx. I think she will fit in very nicely here at the home."
They exchanged knowing smiles.
He said, "This other girl ... Fairly ..." Christine Fairmont had used an alias, of course, a sort of nom de trollop. "... there doesn't seem to be much information on her."
"No. It's rather suspicious. We've never had a wayward girl check herself in, before. But who knows? Perhaps she really wants to correct her behavior. I think we should tread lightly with her, until we see the lay of the land."
"Might be a spy?"
"Could be."
"Huramm. I don't suppose we can refuse her?
Hardly, John. That would be suspicious."
"Well, we'll play it by ear and deal with her the case may warrant." He tossed Christine's file aside and looked at Bonny Wilson's once again, smiling.
"Yes, I'm eager to meet Miss Wilson," he said. "Ummm. So am I."
"In fact ... I already have a hard-on, thinking about it. I do relish fourteen-year-old sluts." "I suppose you'll let me check her out, first?" "Of course, Connie, as usual." Connie licked her lips. "About that hard-on ..." she said. "Ummm?"
"Would you like me to do something about it?" "What a pleasant idea," Watson said. "Fuck? Or suck?" she asked. "To your taste, my dear." "You know very well that I'm a dedicated cock sucker."
Watson knew that from long experience. Connie had nothing against fucking but her true joy was taking cock into her mouth. She was indiscriminate about that, too. She would just as soon suck a cunt as a cock and it was rumored that she sometimes sucked off dogs, although that had never been proven outside the canine world and might have been scandalous gossip. After all, the charitable sort of woman who would donate her time to a home for misguided girls was also the type to do good works at a home for stray dogs, and if she gave head instead of bones, who can say that she was not motivated by kindness?
Now the lusty redhead was licking her scarlet lips with the relish of a true cock sucker.
Watson's personal taste ran towards young girls but his dick had started to throb now, for Connie's considerable expertise more than made up for her years.
He stood up and moved around to the side of his desk. He waited for a moment, to see if she wanted to take his dick out. When she made no move to do so, he unzippered his fly and, reaching in, dragged out his cock. It was a big dick, long and thick and, at the moment, hard as a stone. It jutted out of his pants, angled upwards, the fat crown swollen and the thick vein running up the underside throbbing spasmodically.
Connie gazed appreciatively and expectantly at this big, shapely cock. One of her preliminary delights was in looking at a cock before she touched it and the visual thrill set her mouth to watering. She tilted her head slightly and dipped from the knees, so she could see the seamed underside; she gazed at his swollen balls and eyed his bloated, triangular cockhead. Somehow, she found it more exciting to see his dick this way, sticking out of his pants while, in other respects, the man was still fully dressed.
She intended to keep her own clothing on, as well. Sucking the prick of a man when he was still dressed, even to the necktie, and keeping her own clothing on, in some way seemed dirtier and more depraved-and the more dirty and depraved it was, the better Connie liked it. She needed no caress in return; it was if her mouth were a sexual organ, her tongue a sensitive clitoris. When a man came in her mouth, she almost always had an orgasm, herself. This made the woman a delight in the local singles' bars, where she habitually picked up horny gentlemen and blew them expertly and efficiently, while they appreciated her talents and never had to so much as dirty their hands.
Sometimes they thought she was a little strange.
Now she reached out and took his cock into her hand, jiggling it as if judging the weight of the hard handful. His cock expanded mightily in her palm and the knob flared out like the head of a hooded cobra.
She rubbed the underside of the stalk and switched her thumb back and forth across the electric point where the prick spread out into the big, bivalved head.
Her other hand crept down and cupped his balls, squeezing gently as she frigged up and down his stalk with the other hand and thumbed the tip, fondling all of his sexual tackle at the same time. Her fist skimmed up and down his pecker, barely making contact and the light, easy friction caused him to gasp. His big cock began to vibrate like crystal in response to a shattering chord. He was eager to bury that demanding joystick in her hot mouth, but knew he would have to be patient--Connie was no glutton who would pounce instantly on a ready cock; she liked to savor the joys of expectation, visual and tactile, before she proceeded to the ecstasy of the oral. And who was he to interfere with the time-tested procedures of a master cock sucker?
He gritted his teeth, breathing hard and pushing his hips out towards the woman.
Her grip tightened, hauling his foreskin up and down, curling it in a fold over the ledge of his cockhead, then drawing it back tight and taut, so that the knob stood out, humming and tingling. She moved slowly and steadily, gazing in fascination at the head of his pecker, loving to see the way his cock was reacting to her manual stimulation. Watson reached out, tentatively, for her big tits.
But Connie shook her head quickly.
"Don't touch me," she whispered. "Just relax and let me do it all, okay?"
He understood the dark desires that drove this sexy redhead; realized that in some way she thought it was dirtier to suck a man off without any stimulation to her own body, to suck for the pure sexual joy of the act itself, rather than because her lust had been aroused by his hands. It was an unselfish attitude, yet it brought her a secret pleasure of depravity ... perhaps even a delicious twinge of shame. He didn't give a damn what desires or fantasies motivated her, as long as he got his cock into her mouth.
And that was a foregone conclusion, because she was fairly drooling for dick by this time, as she massaged his pecker and fondled his balls and licked her red lips.
She sank gracefully to her knees before him, preparing to feast on this long, hot delicacy.
But still, although ravenous for pecker, she did not slam that succulent cock into her mouth out of hand. Her approach was dainty and delicate. So properly did she lower her hungry lips to the phallic delight that she might have had a napkin tucked under chin and a book of etiquette open beside her. She began to lick at the air, the tip of her tongue an inch away from the head of his turbulent pecker. Her tongue swept across her pouting lower lip, then flicked out, coiling up and letting him see exactly how the tonguing process would, soon enough, work on his fiery cock.
Watson groaned. He held his hands at his sides and pushed his hips out towards that tantalizing tongue.
Connie touched the tip of her tongue against the underside of his meaty cockhead, drawing it back immediately, as if she'd touched a hot stove. Her red lips glistened, her pink tongue gleamed. He noticed that her lipstick was the same shade of dark red as the head of an aroused cock and wondered, vaguely, if this were by design or accident or Freudian connection.
The head of his dick seemed to be smoking, he was so hot. She teased him, and herself, tapping her tongue to the big slab and then withdrawing it after the light touch. She was flirting with his prick, almost like a young girl who has never sucked a cock and is struggling between the ravenous desire to gobble the tasty wad and the hesitancy of the unknown. And--as is generally the case in such matters--desire won out over inhibitions.
She began laving his cockhead with long, moist strokes, her talented tongue coiling like a serpent all around the bloated slab and across the cleft tip. She pulled back and gently blew on the throbbing wedge, as if it were a hot mouthful of meat that she wished to cool before she ate it. Then she tongued some more, lashing and fluttering in squiggly patterns, her tongue dancing and weaving all over his flaring helmet with loving care.
Connie purred, cat-like, as the meaty, musky taste of his dick invigorated her taste buds. She loved every aspect of sucking prick. She adored the taste and the texture, thrilled to the way a cock swelled up in her mouth and positively went into raptures when a man dumped his heavy cream into her throat. That was why she could make such a leisurely approach to this cock sucking, enjoying each separate aspect as it arrived, rather than working efficiently and expediently towards the creamy culmination.
This did not escape Watson's attention.
So many women, in his experience, were willing and eager to milk a dick, but they always approached the welcome task as if they were in a hurry-as if his orgasm were a train that had to depart on schedule. To them the orgasm was the main objective, drinking cum was the purpose and the sucking along the way was incidental. He appreciated the gusto with which Connie enjoyed every aspect, from preliminary lick to creamy climax, for its own sake. She mouthed with relish, elan and style.
Lowering her face and tipping her head to the side, she began to tongue his balls.
Left abandoned for the moment, his dick pulsated and throbbed like a twisted cable as her tongue laved all over his overfilled balls. She raised the hairy sac and licked underneath; she kissed the swollen bag; she sucked on his sperm banks avidly, filling her maw with ball meat. Her expression was one of great concentration as she worked on this appetizer-an appetizer that, with dual function, both whetted her appetite and at the same time contained the oily nectar that would eventually quench that hunger.
"Good," she whispered. "Good."
She began to tongue up his shaft, rising inch by inch with her tongue lashing laterally across the grain.
She licked up as far as the knob, then retreated back down the stalk. Her saliva coated his fat rod and her heated breath wafted over him. She kept whispering, "Good, good," and the single syllable seemed to be etched into his cock and balls. Rising up again, she changed her tongue strokes so that this time she was running that hot caresser in vertical laps from hilt to head.
Thus far, only her tongue had worked on him.
Now she fitted her parted lips to the root of his pecker and began to slide her head up and down the stalk, still halting just short of the crown. His cockhead was the culmination and she took her own sweet time about getting to it.
She drew back, squatting on her heels, gazing with lust-narrowed eyes at the dick she had been stimulating.
Watson heard her gasp.
His eyes had been closed. Now he looked down and saw the reason for her little gasp. A blob of cum had oozed from his cleft and was trickling sluggishly down the head of his cock. Connie was staring at it with hot eyes, watching the progress as it slid down his knob and onto his stalk. The sticky, creamy drop ran down the fat, dark ventral vein, as if it were following a road. Connie waited until the solitary nugget of nectar had run down almost to his balls. Then she pushed her tongue out, curled up like a spoon, and gathered up the succulent drop of cum.
She let the frothy tidbit slip around on her taste buds for a moment, as if she were sampling some new delicacy; then she threw her head back and, with her lips parted, let the slimy nugget slide down her gullet.
That single preliminary drop had left a luminescent track, like the trail of a snail, down his stalk. Connie ran the tip of her tongue up that glistening line, gathering up every bit of the tasty delicacy, licking the oblong platter clean.
That initial taste of cum inspired the greedy girl.
She could dally no longer over the delicate approached. She was burning with the urge to suck his pecker into her mouth and milk it to the bone.
She fitted her lips to the tip of his cock and let them part slowly, taking him into her mouth millimeter by millimeter with her red lips unfurling around the meaty morsel like the petals of a carnivorous plant around its prey.
His cockhead buried in her mouth and her lips clamped tightly closed behind it, as if she had trapped that tasty wedge. His long, vibrant rod stood out like a bolt, fixing her head to his crotch at a distance of some six inches. She sucked on his knob, her cheeks hollowing in and her tongue lashing around it. Then she began to work her way down the rod.
Inch by inch, she devoured his succulent wand, slurping and sucking as she descended.
She was cross-eyed, as she looked inwards, watching the meaty stalk upon which she was feeding. The further down the dick she went, the more her eyes crossed to keep it in focus. He felt his cockhead lodge in her throat and thought she had taken all that she could manage, but she kept going down, relentlessly, taking the tip right down her gullet and working her lips down towards the very root of his thick stem. -She took every inch into her head.
Her nose nestled in his pubic hair and her chin pressed into his swollen balls and every single millimeter of his hot dick was buried in her mouth and throat.
She held steady for a moment, then began to bob her head up and down, lips pursed, tongue flaring.
So hugely did the cock-hungry redhead enjoy what she was doing that, despite the magnitude of her mouthful, she grinned, her red lips turning up into a smile as they slowly pulled up and pushed down on his cock.
She gagged as the knob stuck in her throat but her head rose and fell without faltering; nothing as prosaic as a gag reflex could halt the inexorable process of milking this big dick now. Her head went up and down as if she were bobbing for apples. She was holding his balls in both hands, but she was not pumping his stalk and caressing him with her hands, for she neither wanted nor needed to hasten the blow job with manual stimulation. Her lips, tongue and cheeks were enough and Watson was starting to tremble as he rose towards the heights of sensation.
Her tongue bridged under his cockhead, fluttering as that fat feast slipped over it, en-route to her throat via her mouth. Her face turned from side to side, creating detours in the passage of his cockhead from lips to gullet. She took the head of his prick into first one cheek and then the other. Her cheeks bulged out like a squirrel with a mouthful of nuts and Watson's cache of stored nuts was starting to tingle, ready to burst.
He laid a hand behind her head, not pushing or trying to set the tempo, just resting it there gently, signifying the nearness of his orgasm.
"Ummm?" she sighed.
"Uramm," he gasped.
Promised that the nectar of lust was forthcoming, Connie began to suck harder and faster. Her greedy mouth fairly flew up and down on his cock, her tongue fluttering and her cheeks pulling on his meat. Her lips compressed into a tight, sucking clamp as they sped along his rod.
She gurgled as his cockhead blocked her throat.
She sighed as she rose up the stalk.
She was drooling for cum and he was trembling as he prepared to feed her on that longed-for spurt.
Suddenly he stiffened.
Connie was on the upstroke. She drew up until only the head of his prick was clamped in the tight collar of her red lips and paused there, tongue slurping under his cockhead.
He hosed her mouth with a thick jet of quick silvery cum, the hot load splashing into her cheeks, whitewashing her tonsils and skimming over her tongue.
"Ahhh," she sighed, as her mouth filled with cream.
She pushed her head down, taking his second spurt right into her throat and gulping it down. Her mouth was full of cum. The hot juice overflowed, bubbling from her compressed lips and running down her chin. She swallowed as fast as she could but he poured yet a third spout into her mouth before she managed to gulp down the thick load that was already there.
True to her nature, the instant that Connie felt his cum in her mouth, her pussy creamed.
Untouched and neglected, that hot box rippled and cunt juice flooded from her, soaking her panties and running down her lush thighs in streamers and banners.
Her head continued to rise and fall steadily as she milked out every last drop from his cock and balls.
Then she sucked steadily away to make sure that not a single precious drop remained in his cockhead. Satisfied that she had drained him dry, she pulled her lips away. His peckerhead popped free like a cork from a bottle. Her mouth was still filled with cum and she took a moment to let this trickle down her throat. Then she used her tongue to gather up the errant drops that had overflowed her lips and run down his stalk onto his balls. Her tongue pushed into every nook and cranny as she collected the joy juice from his crotch.
"That," she whispered, "was delicious."
She licked her lips. A smear of jism had dribbled onto her hand and she lifted her hand to her mouth and tongued the congealing cream from it, wanting every succulent drop.
He tucked his spent dick away. She took out a small mirror and renewed the scarlet slash of her lipstick, which had become smudged as she'd slurped dick and drunk cum. Then, because it was during working hours, Watson and Connie went back to work.
And this was just a usual day's activities at the home for wayward girls, where Christine hoped to get a story for her paper and where Bonny Wilson thought she would have to be celibate....