Chapter 3
It would almost be worth going back to prison just to spit in his eye and walk out, Beverly thought, but then she recalled that prison life and she reached for her blouse to remove it. She hadn't been this angry at a man since she'd been turned in to the police by her former lover. She yanked off her blouse and threw it on the floor, stripped off her slacks and cast them aside to stand quaking with rage in her brassiere and panties. Hanratty just grinned and sipped his drink and turned on the radio on his desk.
Even in her cheap bra and panties, she looked pretty good. He mentally put Linda Patton in her place, tall and young and brunette and maybe even a virgin, but this one was good enough for now. She was a little soft looking, but not as soft as he'd expected, and her bra was very full. "Looks like they kept you in pretty good shape in prison," he said. "Not much fun up there, though. No dances, for instance. Do you like to dance, Bev?"
"I've got no sense of rhythm at all," she said, standing at attention in her bra and her very damp panties.
"I bet you could model brassieres," he said. "Come on over here and let's see."
Beverly closed her eyes to shut out the hated sight of him for a moment, but when she opened them he was still there. He swiveled about in his chair as she stalked around his big desk, and when she drew up at his side he swung his feet up and crossed his ankles on the corner of his desk.
"Not bad," he said, as he reached up to feel very liberally of her breasts through her white cotton bra. His big, soft hand roved back and forth as it went down over Beverly's waist, and he patted her hip and then squeezed her buttock through her panties. "Not bad at all," he said, "but you sure are too tensed up about it all to be a model."
"I told you," said Beverly, suddenly filled with hope for her salvation. "I'm just too shy for modeling. I'm half scared to death right now. Can I just . . . go now?"
"You just need to relax, kid. Go fix yourself a drink. Make another one for me, too," he said, and handed her his glass. "Wait up," he said as she started to go, and Beverly had to stand there with her back to him while he unsnapped her bra clips.
Beverly proceeded stiffly to his bar. Rod Hanratty was surely the worst man she would ever know in her life. Her bra straps hung loosely about her, its cups barely cradling her tits as she mixed the drinks, a weak one for him, a strong one for her. She could feel every place on her body that he'd touched, and those places felt very unclean. Someday she'd kill him for this, or better yet, cut off his balls with an axe.
Rod's cock was good and stiff in his gabardine slacks. He frankly stroked it through his pants while he looked her over from every angle, a compact and trim woman, in the prime of her life and near naked. She took a big drink from her glass at the bar, and when she did one of her tits put in its naked appearance, nice and full, with a perfectly rounded underside and a noticeably stiff brown nippie. Right away she tucked it inside its dangling bra cup, and Rod reached out his hand for her.
Totally expressionless, feeling as cold within her as the ice in the glasses, Beverly started back toward the man at the desk. She held out his drink to his reaching hand, but the hand went past it and inside her loosened brassiere, making her flesh crawl all over as it squeezed and kneaded the soft, full cone of her breast and plucked and pulled at her nipple. "Nice tits. Real nice," he said, and pulled the brassiere away to leave Beverly with nothing but her panties to hide herself from his insolent gaze. He fondled her waist and squeezed her ass, felt her tits again and made her flinch when he ran his hand between her legs, and as he did this he said, "You'll never be a model if you don't learn how to smile. Smile, Beverly. You're not in prison now."
Beverly grinned like a hyena, and Rod laughed loudly and said, "That's terrific. You're really starting to relax. Now let's see about that sense of rhythm you think you don't have. I'll bet you can shake those nice titties in time to the pretty music."
Beverly tossed off her drink and backed off and shook her tits for the man. Why not? She had no choice at all, and it was better than having him paw her. She closed her eyes to block out the sight of his leering face, and in the darkness she remembered the pleasures she'd taken at being a topless dancer and getting a roomful of men real hot and bothered by moving her body. The music was good, dammit. It made her want to move her body. And the better she moved it, the hotter he'd get, and the quicker he'd screw her and the sooner she could leave. She opened her eyes to turn a sickly grin on him, and saw him rubbing his cock through his pants and eating her up with his eyes. Give the bastard his way. She knew a lesbian bar she could go to afterward that would help cleanse her body from his touch.
The little blonde bitch really knew how to shake it. She was getting Rod horny as hell. "Waltz it back over here, baby," he said, and she started toward him shimmying and shaking, undulating her hips and shoulders and swinging her tits like a pro. She had a terrifically sexy smile on her face when she stopped beside him, tits swinging rhythmically back and forth, hips twitching softly beside him. He kept her there with her motor running as he unzipped his fly and took out his big stiff dick so she could see what would soon be going into her cunt.
Hanratty's cock looked simply ridiculous. Beverly had never been one of those women who find a man's cock nice to look at. Before she'd discovered she was gay, Beverly had enjoyed the feeling of a hard cock filling up her wet cunt, but she'd always thought a man's cock looked plain stupid. Hanratty's cock was certainly no exception, but she continued to smile as he took it so proudly out.
From his cock Rod's hand went to Beverly's body. He slipped it between her legs, squeezing the softness of her inner thigh, and feeling the heat of her cunt. He was horny enough to go down on her, but he wanted to prolong it all for a little longer, for this scene was a dream he'd had for a long, long time. His hand rose higher up her thigh, right up against her cunt and the crotch band that covered it. He slipped his fingers inside that crotch band, and when he did he was shocked at how wet she was. "That, uh, dancing for me really turned you on, eh?"
Beverly had been hot almost all day long, and even Hanratty's fingers sliding through the swollen lips of her vulva was getting her even hotter. It could have been a snake touching her like that just then and she still would have had those terrific soaring feelings of deep sexual pleasure. She grinned like a fox, reached down and touched the tip of his cock, and said, "This is what turns me on. I could sit right down on that and do some real dancing for you, daddy."
Rod slapped her on the ass and said, "Why don't you dance over there and get us a couple more drinks first. And then dance over to the cabinet and do a little modeling for me."
Beverly couldn't have stopped the churnings of her hips now if she'd tried. Bobby going down on her, in the bobbin room and in the sewing room, had started her off that day. All the teasing and anticipation with Glory had added to her heat. And now as Rod Hanratty had touched her, just from the way he was looking at her, Beverly was as hot as she could be and getting hotter with each beat of the music. She was bursting with sexual excitement. She could simply not hold still. She even smiled in a genuinely warm and inviting way at Rod Hanratty, and gave his stiff cock a look as if to say it was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen in her life. Returning with his drink, she brushed her fingers over the tip of his cock, all wet and sticky, and he grinned and said, "Let's see how you look in the red."
Rod had laid out six sets of gauzy panties and bras in the cabinet that afternoon, hoping he'd get Beverly to some point like this after work, but not really believing he could. Now he knew why it had been so easy. She was a nymphomaniac, one of those chicks who went nuts at the sight of a cock. Of course, it might be him that was turning her on, but more likely any man could do it, and then screw her and give her the clap. Rod didn't need the clap. He needed the excitement, needed the release that could certainly be his very soon, but he didn't need the clap. He watched, grinning, while his little blonde seamstress with the perpetually hot panties stripped naked and put on some of the things she made for a living.
It was strictly costume lingerie, not the kind a decent gal would wear under her clothes. But Beverly was anything but a decent girl, and she was getting a kick out of sliding the gossamer thin red nylon panties up her legs and snugging them up about her beautifully throbbing cunt. She had to have that cock in her-or something like it-and soon, or she'd start climbing the walls. When she eased the thin red straps of the bra up her arms and snuggled her tits in its cups, her lecherous boss gave her such a lustful look that she wrinkled her nose and stuck out the point of her tongue at him. And then she began to dance in earnest, for as long as he'd let her.
Rod was greatly impressed with how Beverly could move it. And with all the goodies she'd managed to keep concealed from him under her work clothes for such a long time. She had a knockout of a body for a gal her age, very compact, very round in every department, and extremely active. Her buttocks, the size of volleyballs, were bouncing like volleyballs within the very thin seat of her bright red panties. Her tits, the size of soft-balls, were doing everything short of jumping right out of her briefly cut bra. In between, there wasn't an ounce of fat on her body, doubtless all worked off in her nymphomaniac's need to throw herself cunt-first at any available dick. Rod thought about lying back while she did a dance like this on the end of his cock, then thought about the disease germs she was surely carrying and sat back and watched the show.
As in days of old, when she was dancing for a living, the satiny friction of thigh against thigh was working Beverly up to an even giddier degree of sexual heat. She was getting so hot that the naked cock before her was starting to look more than a little good. It wouldn't matter if that cock belonged to a perfect stranger, in fact, it might have been still more attractive if it had, but what counted was that it was there, and it soon would be hers to provide quite a different sort of friction between her actively working thighs. It had been just over six years since she'd had anything but a dildo in her cunt, and now she was looking forward with real anticipation to feeling some solid, living flesh in there. It might even change her life, she thought, and get her involved with men once again, though she well knew the heartaches and frustrations that went along with that. But who could think about problems at a time like this, with a belly full of good booze and a pussy full of very slippery cunt juice? Beverly faced her boss in a half crouch, legs apart, knees out and arms out, and performed a series of gyrations with her hips that almost brought her to orgasm, and that was quite enough to get him up to the mood to stop ogling her and do her some real, live good.
"C'mere, baby," he said, and beckoned her over to him.
Beverly came, dancing all the way, shaking her very full tits and fucking the cock that wasn't yet in her, and when she was close enough to him, she swooped low with her face to blow a breath of hot air over the flaming red cockhead that soon would plunge deep in her body.
"Yeh, that's the way I like it," said Rod, and caught himself a handful of kinky blonde hair and brought her face down on his loins.
Beverly managed to sidestep his cock with her mouth, but then that part of her body and her nose was buried deep in his hairy black loins, where the smell of his sex and his working day was strong enough to gag her. She wrenched away, panting heavily, and tried to rise up to where she could straddle him, but he held her firm, smiled down at her very benignly, and said, "Let's see what you know about sucking cock."
"I don't do that," said Beverly, still panting and very flushed with her largely self-induced lusts. "I'll fuck, but I'll be damned if I'll suck."
"That's what you said about dancing, and look how good you did at that. Give us a suck, blondie, You'll be worse than damned if you don't. And I'm not about to cum in your pretty mouth."
Once again Beverly had no choice. And his cock was right there beside her, so close to her cheek she could feel its heat, and a quick taste of cock might be just the thing she needed to expand her sexual interests to a point where they had been before those years she's spent in the Women's Correctional Institute. She took his cock in her mouth, great bulbous thing that it was, and sucked on the satiny flesh, tasted its masculine falvor, and succeeded in not throwing up.
The flavor was awful! Six years was not nearly long enough to be away from sucking cock, but all Beverly could do about it was suck like a madman on it alid hope that her heavy salivation would quickly wash away the terrible taste. In moments it was nearly as juicy as a well-sucked cunt, and still he kept her kneeling on the floor beside him, his hand very strong in her hair, moaning and grunting softly while she performed this act of sexual supplication that she'd sworn she'd never again do for a man. The thought of prison kept her going. The thought that she'd soon have that cock in her badly burning cunt made her keep sucking and bobbing her feverish head. The thought of going sixty-nine with Glory was enough of a distraction to make her cunt start throbbing again, and to keep this going she reached down inside those stupid red panties and got a finger on her clit, pressed the button and worked it madly around, and the cock in her mouth began to erupt.
"Oh! Jesus Christ!" Rod exclaimed, for between his thoughts of Linda Patton and his little modeling session with Beverly, he had a load in his nuts that was huge. "Yeah! My Go-o-od!" he said from between gritted teeth, making his swivel chair creak, shooting up like a Roman candle into a most receptive, soft mouth.
Beverly's mouth was anything but receptive. She was trying to get it off that huge thing spurting foulness inside her head. But his hand was very strong and she was very weak, caught by her own greedy lusts in an orgasm of her own making. As awful as this experience was, it wasn't bad enough to stop her orgasms. She couldn't even take her finger from her clit as the big explosions wracked her time and again, in a weird sort of tempo with those heavy gushings of goaty male semen in her mouth. In her mouth? It was going up inside her throat to snot down through her nostrils, up inside her brain to prevent her from ever forgetting this oral rape she'd been subjected to, and still she had to suck and cum, suck and cum, and at last to swallow the ropy goo that he'd forced in her mouth. Then, to add the most disgusting insult to her injury, she had to weakly smile and wilt like a grateful maiden when he let her hair go, saying as he did, "Yeah, just like I thought, you're one helluva good blow job. You might even get a bonus out of this, kid."