If she did that, she knew she could kiss her marriage good-bye right then. Mark scared her. But she also loved him too much to even contemplate life without him.
So, she would stay and do what Bernstein was asking her to do. She knew there was no hope of bluffing him, or arguing him out of it.
She looked at him. Her eyes met his steady, cold gray ones. He was, in his sturdy, rugged cruel way, rather attractive. And, she told herself bitterly, she wouldn't be doing anything she hadn't already done with another man not her husband. Besides, maybe she would be lucky and get fucked, too. Christ, she was so damn horny.
She answered his unspoken question by setting her purse down beside herself in the chair, and standing up. It was easy for her to stick out her cheat, to pose for him. She had never done anything like it before in her life, but it came to her naturally, so naturally she began to wonder about her true nature.
Boldly facing the man, she unbuttoned the cuffs of her long-sleeved blouse. Her chest still thrust out slightly, she began undoing her blouse. She moved carefully, not quickly, not slowly. She made no deliberate attempt to be seductive. Her body would speak for itself.
After tugging the blouse free, she let it slide down her arms, then carefully draped it over the back of the chair. She was conscious of the shift and play of her heavy boobs as she moved.
Her skirt went next. It dropped around her feet. She picked it up and folded it carefully. This time, she was wearing stockings, and a garter belt. The garter belt was white, and lacy, and matched her bra and panties.
Reaching behind her back, she unhooked the bra. She felt her tits settle lower as their support was taken away. Her titties hardened and pointed eagerly as the cool air-conditioned air of the office touched them. After dropping her bra, Karen indulged in the sensuous luxury of massaging her boobs. She was enjoying the freedom from the bra. She remembered the young, bra-less girl on the show, and reflected wryly that with her jugs, she wouldn't dare go on TV bra-less.
The stocky producer's interest in her display was obvious, even though his groin was hidden behind the desk. A film of sweat made his forehead glisten. He licked his lips tensely. His dark eyes darted over her nearly-naked body.
Hooking her thumbs in the elastic of her panties, she ran them down her legs and off. She could feel the, brown curls of her muff expanding. It was a crazy, tickling sensation. Leaving her stockings and garter belt on, Karen eased around the side of the desk, and sat on the corner. She made no attempt to shield her pussy from view, but made no deliberate display of it, either. She leaned back on her hands, and looked at him.
"Well?" she asked.
"Good enough," he allowed, his voice husky. "So far."
"You haven't shown me anything yet," she pointed out.
"You have to come and get it yourself," he answered. Obviously, if she wanted to be on the show, or if she wanted him, she was going to have to humiliate and degrade herself before him.
Karen knew she wanted both, which made her furious with herself. Angrily, she got up from the desk and walked across the room, away from him. She felt his eyes on her naked ass. Lust was a hot, gnawing worm in her gut.
She turned to face him. She ran nervous fingers down over her body toward her twat. Her fingers slid into her snatch. She toyed with her pussy, played with herself as the man watched. Her finger pressed her clit and her hips rolled as pleasure burned through her. She licked her lips and writhed uninhibitedly as her lust boiled higher. With both hands, she fondled and petted her steaming twat, spread her cunt-lips to show the wet, pink inner folds. Her upper arms, pressed inward and upward against her hefty knockers, deepened the valley between them.
She let her feet spread, let her hips roll. She plunged a finger into her dripping cunt. She finger-fucked herself, and humped her hips eagerly as her finger pumped in and out of her dripping cunt.
Bernstein swivelled his chair towards her. She could see his lap. There was a monster lump there. It looked as if his hard-on was short and stubby, just the way his body was like a barrel.
Karen drew her fingers out of her cunt, and licked the juices off the tips. She moved toward the producer. She was conscious of the sway of her, hips, the jiggle of her titties. She knelt in front of him and reached for his fly. Running the zipper down, she dug into the opening. His cock rammed up, out through the fly of his boxer shorts.
She had been right. Bernstein's cock was only half the length of Peter Sandier's magnificent ten inches. But it was twice the diameter! It squatted on the man's dense, black pubic patch like an obscene toad. The pink cap was shining with pre-come. The skin of the shaft was wrinkled. There was a circumcision scar beneath the groove.
With the fingers of both hands, Karen tested the hardness of the core of Bernstein's prick, the soft looseness of the skin. Then she placed her palms on either side of the squat pecker and rolled it forward and back, made the skin twist around the rigid center.
She knew she was going to suck it. She knew she was going to take a great, creamy load in her mouth. What was worse, she knew she was going to enjoy it.
She tried to imagine the heavy prick jammed into her twat, and felt her cunt contract with excitement. He could split her wide open, he was so bulky. But God, would it feel good!
Dipping her head, she licked the end of his cock as if it was a scoop of strawberry ice cream perched in a auger cone. But the taste was pure man-juice thick and salty and delicious. A stringy strand of clear viscous goo trailed down and stung her chin. She looked up at him, and saw the excitement in his eyes as he watched her naked humiliation.
Bending her head, she circled his pecker with her lips. It was a strain to get his hard-on between her teeth without scraping it, but she managed. Taking the full length of his dick was easy. It barely reached her throat, quite a contrast to Peter's long dick. She felt the skin sliding over the hard core as she lifted and dropped her head slowly. She stroked the knobby head with her tongue.
Wiry hair tickled her nose, made it wrinkle defensively, brought on the desire to sneeze. She fought the urge down, knowing if she failed and did sneeze, she would, unavoidably, bite down hard on the dick between her jaws. She circled the base of his hard-on with her hands, pressed his hair down flat. The urge to sneeze passed.
She was a cock-sucker supreme, and she knew it. Her cunt was dripping hungrily down the insides of her thighs as she sucked. Her gut knotted, not with revulsion, but with lust, as she drew on the thick prick. Her mouth was flooding with spit not from nausea, but from hunger for more of his delicious juices.
She wriggled the tip of her tongue into the slit at the end of his dick. She swept the head of his prick clean with a circular swirl of her tongue, and was rewarded with a renewed flow of goo. She pressed her face against his body. His entire cock was in her mouth. Gentle pressure on the underside brought yet another wave of delectable juices.
She sucked, and felt the living sausage swell and squirm against the suction. More juice oozed into her mouth from the slit. She squirmed and her breasts rubbed the rough cloth of the producer's trousers. Her cunt was a swamp of unholy lust as she sucked his cock.
Maintaining her suction, she bobbed her head over his lap, up and down, up and down. Her jaws began to ache. Once in a while her teeth nicked his sensitive flesh and he hissed in protest.
His hands touched her head, began to guide her. His hips began to squirm with arousal. His blunt fingers tangled in her hair. He began to lift and push her head. His hips jammed upward in a fucking motion. Only the shortness of his dick kept her from being run through by his pecker. As it was, her throat began to feel battered and bruised by his forceful thrusts. She began to pray for his coming as it grew harder and harder for her to breathe. The pain in her jaws was beginning to be more than she could bear.