Chapter 10
Beverly was so aroused she couldn't move. The girl was perfectly adorable, and Hanratty's lecherous look made her appear even more virginally sweet. Bobby was watching them now as well, still beside her on the iron balcony, now with his hand roving over her thinly clad and very nicely itchy bottom. She knew she should stop what was going on inside, but the fascination of the voyeur had always been inside her and so she watched, and she waited, and even from that distance she could see that Linda was unknowingly responding to Rod Hanratty's hard liquor and soft caresses.
Linda didn't know what was wrong with her, and she hardly cared. There was a wonderful rushing, roaring going on in her healthy young body, like being immersed in a lovely Jacuzzi with no fear of drowning unless one fell fast asleep. She did feel sleepy, for Mr. Hanratty's lights were quite warm, and he was taking a lot of time arranging her just so for the pictures.
All alone, she would have curled up and taken a nap on the couch that was right in front of her. But that would be terribly rude in front of Mr. Hanratty, who was being so very nice to her, and whose hands were occasionally touching her in a way that brought her wide awake for a moment or two. He knew what he was doing. She trusted him. And so she stayed where she was, bent over and leaning against the coffee table where she could look at the gloves she'd come there to model while Mr. Hanratty smoothed her hose into place and said nice things about her.
"You could model skin cream. That's a real nice complexion you have. Real nice," he purred, sliding his hand up the inside of this angel's thigh now, curling his fingers to fit the contour of that part of her.
She giggled and said, "You'll have me modeling all sorts of things."
"That's right," said he, chuckling with her. "Good thing you're not very ticklish. Models can't afford to be ticklish."
"I usually am," Linda said, her hips in continual restless motion now, though not in time to the music, and her titties feeling very full inside her bra.
"Good thing you're not ticklish here," he said, and ran the soft ball of his index finger right next to the lace-edged crotch band of her panties. Linda could scarcely gasp and protest at the startling sensation she felt before he was telling her why she shouldn't be ticklish there, or anywhere if she was going to be a model, with all sorts of strangers' hands putting her into poses. It was all she could do to hold still and control her breathing as his finger moved over that extremely sensitive part of her again and again while he spoke, droning on about the virtues of the aspiring model in a somehow soothing voice. She stood it as long as she could, until his finger touched her crotch through her panties, whereupon she heaved herself upright and turned, saying, "Please don't touch me like that."
He looked up at her with the blandest, most innocent expression in the world, and he said, "Why not?" He touched her there again from the front, making her almost leap out of her skin, and he said, "Suppose you're modeling bikinis, and you'll certainly be doing that. Your wardrobe mistress will have to make sure you're tucked inside the swim suit, that none of your little hairs show. You know?" he said, wide eyed and sober faced, while his fingers tickled terribly between Linda's legs, and she stood there gasping and trying to hold on.
She gave a sharp jump as he rose, slapped her fondly on her rump, slipped an arm about her waist, and said, "Thatta girl. It just takes some training, some self-control. You already have the beauty it takes to model. Wait. I'll get you another grapefruit juice."
Linda felt strangely alone and bereft as he left her, and terribly warm and fidgety. She could hardly hold still, squirming her thighs together over her very sweaty crotch, rubbing her itching nipples with the heels of her gloved hands. Her buttocks felt swollen inside the seat of her panties. The close fit of the hose, annoying at first, was now a comfort to her, as was the icy cold drink Rod Hanratty brought to her which she sipped as he clasped a steadying hand about her bare waist.
"You've got a model's breasts, too," he said, and Linda blushed very hotly. "Unless you're wearing falsies."
"Oh, I'm not," she quickly said, but not before he'd plucked a bra strap between thumb and forefinger and peeled it on down her shoulder.
"It's all right," he assured her. "I just want to see for myself."
She knew she should stop him. She knew very well she should stop him, but somehow she didn't, watching just as closely as he while her bra cup came down and her stiff-tipped right breast was exposed. "Yes, very nice," he said, in such a matter-of-fact way that Linda could do nothing more than gasp-and continue to watch the movements of his fingers on her breast. "Nice enough to model for a centerfold, and that's where some big money is. There's more in fashion modeling in the long run, of course, but center folding is good for a new model to break in at."
He went on to say how much money a model could make, astounding her with astronomical figures almost as much as he was astounding her with the soft manipulation of her titty. She didn't protest, not a word, when he peeled down her bra, saying, "We'll just see if you have a matched pair. Perfect. Yes, perfect," he said in reverent tones, cupping each one of her palpitating breasts in his hand in the gentlest, most tender of ways. "We must capture this on film."
"Nobody'll . . . . see 'em, will they?" Linda asked.
"Just you and I, darling," said Rod from behind the camera, as he quickly adjusted his hard-on again and focused in on her tits. He got several excellent shots, full front and profile, before straightening up, frowning, and saying, "You've got to smile. You've got to be enjoying whatever it is you're modeling. Now hold your hands under them so we can see the gloves, and smile, honey, smile."
"Is this how you . . . model gloves?" she said, a fixed smile on her face, the beginnings of fear in her eyes.
"It's how you make a million dollars," he said, and he let that sink in while he got some more shots of those sexy black gloves, each with an alabaster titty in it.
Rod strode briskly over to her then, while she looked up at him, black-gloved hands still cupping her full, cone-shaped tits. "You're doing fine," he said, and gave her a peck on the cheek, then unsnapped the bra that was dangling about her slim waist. "And you've sure got a fine pair of tits," he went on, and gave one of them a squeeze, such a rough one, in fact, that Linda was brought to her senses.
"Don't! You shouldn't do that! I've got to go now," said Linda, completely inflamed with embarrassment now, and with sharp resentment at Rod.
Rod just laughed and caught her about the waist and swept her up against him, chuckling down into her panic-wrought face, and saying, "Take it easy, kid. All this is for your own good. You're such a pretty thing it'd be a shame to keep it all covered up."
"But I want to be covered up. Rod! Mr. Hanratty! Please! You're hurting me!"
"Baloney," he said, hugging her so hard up against him it took the wind out of her for the moment. "Pretty girl like you. You're in good hands. Shame to cover it up. Pretty all over. Pretty tits, pretty ass, pretty mouth," he said, and quite suddenly he was kissing her-right on the mouth before she could reprimand him for saying such nasty old words. And then his tongue was pushed in her mouth, before she could shut her startled lips, and though the slithery feeling of it repulsed her at first, clear down to the pit of her stomach, in moments more she was clutching at his shirt lest she fall down with her very weak knees, and she was pushing back at his tongue.
Wonderful man! How could anyone make her feel this way? Linda's hand crept around his neck, so he wouldn't get away as she tasted his tongue, again and again and again. He was feeling freely of her titties now, closely pressed between them, and then slipping that hand down her waist in a way that made her senses roar as much as his tongue was doing.
'You like Frenching, eh?" he said with a smile. "Most of you girls do."
Before she could ask him what girls, he was Frenching her again, easing his stiff, thick tongue all around inside her mouth so she forgot all about the question. Her stiff-nippled titties felt marvelous against his soft cotton shirt. His hand felt marvelous, too, roving over her back-thrusting bottom in search of those nice places where her bottom itched the very most.
T bet you like Frenching all over," he murmured, with his warm lip brushed against hers, and down they went then, into the warmth of her throat.
"Oh, please. Oh, Rod. Oh, I'm so ticklish there," said Linda, though by then she felt every bit as ticklish everywhere.
"Got to have some of those tits," said Rod, and now he went after them, plenty more than a succulent mouthful, with nipples that fit him just right.
"Oh! Please! Please! Please!" Linda was saying, not at all knowing what it was she was pleading for, but unable to keep herself still. It was not only her vocal cords that were moving. Her hips were churning up against his chest, her buttocks were doing a dance, and her hands were rubbing the sides of his head while he kissed and sucked on her tits.
"Oh, baby, yeah," said Rod, holding her firm by the waist now, appreciating it much more than he had her knees, and trailing a path of saliva from her kiss-wetted tits to her navel.
"Oh, that does tickle!" said Linda, squirming near uncontrollably. "Do stop, Rod. You're tickling me half to death." He just went on kissing her there, thrusting his tongue in her navel so deeply she could almost feel it inside her. "Oh!" she said more sharply, as a tiny pain appeared there, and then quickly dissolved away into a delicious feeling of luxury. The luxury persisted, and Linda watched as if from afar, as Rod's long pink tongue snaked on down her tummy, following the course of her panties as his fingers eased them down. "No, no. Please. You really mustn't do that. Please, Mr. Hanratty, that's not nice," she said, but once again she did nothing at all to stop him.
Rod eased her delicately furred cuntlips aside with his thumbs quite quickly, before she got crazy about him quitting. He thrust out his tongue and found her clitoris at once, stiff and firm, fresh and young, and already most slippery and wet from the virgin oils she'd spread with the scissoring of her thighs. One touch was almost enough, for in moments she was huffing and puffing.
"Oh! Ohmigod! Oh heavens! Oh, it feels so good, so very GOOD!" she said, clutching his head in her hands, and tilting her shaking hips up at him.
"Not nice, eh? Rod murmured, slicking his creamy wet lips, and hunkering down for more. "Now you start to get an inkling of just how nice it is," he said, and he slipped his stiffly extended tongue out, right out and into the puffed out pink lips of her cunt, and he licked it, up and down.
"Uhoo-o-o-o-o-o," Linda moaned, squirming and thrusting for more. "Oh, yes!" she said, face gone slack, but all the rest of her in motion, tits swinging, hips thrusting forward, forward, buttocks actively quivering and legs flexing down just as far as her half-mast panties permitted. "YES!" she said, and a huge warm wave from the Jacuzzi completely inundated her, and she fell back on the couch screaming hoarsely, "YES-S-S-S-SSS!! ! "
"That lucky sonofabith," Beverly said at the window, and Bobby, beside her, said, "Did she have a heart attack?"
Rod lurched to his feet and looked down at the black-haired girl on his couch, tits quite naked and still up-thrusting, even slumped back against the back of the couch as she was. The gloves and the hose and the panties were all she had on, and the panties were down around her knees. This had gone much farther, and far better, than he'd planned or even hoped for. Her eyes were half closed and she was groping clumsily at her cunt, nicely open and pink, and so wet it glistened in the glare of the hot white lights. It was no time to stop now, Rod thought with an evil grin, and began to take off his shirt.
"Oh, please. Oh, yes. Oh, please," Linda was saying, as Rod shucked down his pants and shorts.
Her mouth was hanging open. With her own hand she was keeping herself hot, not doing as good a job as he might do, but getting the job done nevertheless. Rod continued to look at her cushiony pink lips, as glistening wet as her cuntlips, as he grinned and leaned forward, putting a knee on the couch, then putting his cock in her mouth.
"Easy, baby," he cautioned, with his heart pounding hard in his chest. "I'm liable to cum in your pretty mouth if you suck on me hard," he said, which was something he planned never to do, not if he could always help it. "That's right. Just taste it. Get the feel of it," he said, right on the verge of cumming, by seeing her do it to him just as much as by feeling the soft, timid touch of her tongue and of her lips. "Can' take any more of that," he groaned, and drew out his cock just in time, the moment before he would cum.
"I believe he's going to fuck her," said Beverly, and turned and kissed Bobby hard on the mouth before he could utter a word.
That was exactly what Rod had in mind. On his knees on the carpet, he guided his cock with his hand till its bulbously big pink knob had kissed the dewy wet lips of her cunt. Dewy? They had only looked dewy, and now, through the tactile nerves of the head of his cock, Rod Hanratty could feel just how overflowing brimful creamy wet his kisses had made this lovely girl's cunt, and he eased himself inside.
"Too tight!" he exclaimed, and immediately started thinking about payroll taxes, income taxes, property taxes, and employee's withholding tax, while a nerve in his brain kept pounding out signals that said. "She's fantastically tight!"
"OOOGH!" said Rod, and he shoved himself all the way in her, and grabbed both the cheeks of her ass.
"OW-W-W-W-W!" he exclaimed, cumming almost painfully hard, and heaving her up off the couch in his tremendous extremis of pleasure.
"OH-H! OH-H! OH-H!" Rod cried out, humping straight upward like mad, pouring torrents of jism into her as he held her hard by the ass, feeling her tits flopping against him and her arms dangling about his neck and her thighs against his hips, but most of all feeling the inside of her incredibly tight, hot cunt.
"No! Oh-H! Can't stop. OHH!" he groaned, staggering about his office now in the double burden of her weight and the excruciating pleasure.
In his staggering, he drove her up against the wall, pinioned her there with his pistoning prick. He continued to piston and moan, and to cum like a big prize bull, till he'd fucked her right down till her ass was flat on the floor, and he was lying there panting atop her.
"Come on, Bobby," said Beverly angrily, and entered over the sill saying, "Rod, you dirty sonofabitch!"