She gobbled frantically, siphoning cum up his tubes, and there was no holding back. Andy gasped, fucked his cock into Greta's mouth. She opened her throat and engulfed him totally, using cheeks, jaws, and throat to eat the hot load that blasted from Andy's cock.
He moaned with each separate eruption of jism, and he could hear her drinking his cum. It sounded as if she were gargling on his jizz. Her pussy vibrated in a matching orgasm round the fingers he had thrust up her cunt, and he knew it was just as ripe, just as hot for Greta as it was for him.
His cock began to soften inside her mouth, the last dribbles of his jism oozing from the tip, and he felt the contractions of her pussy ebb, too.
She relaxed, her cheeks lying on his lower belly. Bubbles of his jism were frothy on her lips. A sticky trail dribbled from one corner of her mouth. She licked her lips sexily, eyes aimed up at him.
"If you're serious about the idea," she said, "I might be able to work something up. But it would cost a bit of cash, honey."
CHAPTER TWO
Emily Rowan Palmer slipped out of her tennis whites in the bedroom, standing in front of her mirror. She enjoyed looking at herself when she was naked, and she very much enjoyed watching herself get naked.
With a smile, she unhooked her silk bra, easing the cups free of her tits. She held it in one hand, the swaps dangling, while she ran the fingers of her other hand across the full round curves of her tits.
The reddish tips of her nipples began to stiffen almost immediately. They were very responsive. Emily licked the tips of two fingers and applied them delicately to her hardening nipples, squeezing gently, rolling her fingers around as the strawberry buds came to full erection.
She dropped the bra and cupped the other tit, massaging it lovingly as she teased her nipple hard. She held her tits a long time, loving the feel of her hands upon them, the ping of her nipples as they responded to the caresses of her hands.
With a sigh of pleasure, she released her tits, reached down and hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties.
She turned before the mirror, panties still in place, and she looked at herself from the front and then over her shoulder. She contemplated her body and decided that it was perfect. At five-seven, she had always wished she were taller, but her weight was distributed evenly up and down her frame and she was a perfect size six.
She removed the panties, smiling as her fluffy reddish-brown bush came into view, the hairs full and crinkly like cotton candy. She slid the panties downward, then straightened up, wearing only her high-heeled slides. She studied carefully the curve of her legs, the thrust of her ass. Yes, it was perfect, she assured herself.
Emily's hands slid down over the full but not ostentatious tits. Eyes seemed to follow them no matter where she was, but it was not her fault that she had eye-catching tits.
She stroked the hard, flat tummy and the well-proportioned fullness of her hips. She felt good because she looked good. She'd drawn more than her share of stares at the club today, playing singles with Julia Frost.
You can look, she had thought smugly, feeling the eyes that followed her, but you can never touch. Well, she had finished her tennis workout, and now it was time to pamper her body. Emily turned away from the mirror and went into the bathroom.
She drew her bath and sprinkled bubble powder onto the hot water, watching as it began to foam. She slipped off her shoes and went down into the big sunken tub, easing into its foamy luxuriant wetness. A bath always felt good.
She leaned back, and her tits lifted out of the water, the stiff cherry nipples rising from the suds with froth clinging to them. Emily scooped up a handful of suds and worked it into her tits, sighing as her flesh responded to the caress of her hands.
She squeezed down, soapy fingers sliding on her tits, and the nipples seemed to get even harder. She leaned her face toward her tits and kissed her soapy flesh as close to the nipples as she could get.
She wished the tits were bigger, big enough to get them into her mouth. She could flick her tongue over the nips but she couldn't quite suck on them, and she longed to know the feel of her own mouth loving her own tits. Someone else sucking her titties was not the same thing, not at all.
Her hands slid under the water, onto her belly. She stroked herself, making small waves in the tub, and her fingers moved gradually into the space between her perfect legs.
That spot was perfect, too – a plump hillock of flesh, furred in the same shade of reddish brown hair that grew on her head. It was bisected by a clean, snug-lipped pussy, whose inner lips barely protruded at all.
She caressed her cunt, opening and closing it, teasing the soft tight lips provocatively.
She could feel her clit enlarging, and she stroked it as it grew, purring in her bath as the warm feelings spread through her body. The water sloshed around her, the soap bubbles seeming to froth a little more with each responsive twitch of her body.
Emily stretched out in the tub, head leaning back, a smile playing across her perfectly chiseled features. Under the water she was wing both hands on her cunt now, fingers sliding gently up the insides of her thighs, to meet atop the crease of her pussy. Even though her entire body was wet, she was totally, intensely aware that sticky warm juices were coming down the tube of her cunt, bubbling along the passageway to anoint her toying fingers. And the more her fingers stroked back and forth over her cunt, the more those juices seemed to flow from deep inside Emily.
She parted the petal-like folds of her cunt and allowed knowing, erotically charged fingers to play through her pussy french. The warm water of the bath was an extra stimulation to Emily's pussy.
Her hands moved more insistently on her cunt, and she basked in the response of her body. She deserved a special treat. After all, she'd let Andy, her husband, do that yucky stuff to her just the other night.
She shivered at the memory. His mouth, open against hers, his tongue thrusting itself into the privacy of her mouth. His lips, going down to attack her nipples.
He'd put his hand between her legs, just as she was doing now, but it hadn't been the same, of course. He loved to feel her pussy, to finger spread the lips of her cunt, to push his way inside, right into the tight mouth of her cunt. But it wasn't the same as her own fingers. How could it ever be the same?
And then Andy was atop her, rubbing her pussy with the end of his hard cock, saliva bubbling on his lips as he attempted to put it inside her. God, what a disgusting thing!
But she'd let him do it, even though she couldn't quite hold back the gasp of shock and revulsion as his big hard prick pushed through her narrow opening and into the delicate tightness of her cunt. She'd been dry, of course, but by that time he hadn't much cared. He was hot and hard and he kept kissing her, working his tongue over and into her mouth.
He'd thrust his cock into her pussy until the tight tube had no choice but to lubricate itself just a little, to keep from being scraped raw by the friction of his prick as it ravished her cunt.
She hated it. She'd always hated it. Back in high school, when everyone else had started to fuck, she'd tried it too, just to see what it was all about. She'd hated it then.
A stupid football player, a quarterback with a great arm and an IQ lower than his jersey number, had fucked her in his car the night of the harvest dance. He threw great passes on the field. In the backseat he was a piece of shit. He'd been so excited to find her a virgin that he'd squirted his sticky white milk onto her pussy while trying to get his cock inside. Onto her pussy, her stockings, her formal. But despite the gusher of cum he'd squirted, his cock stayed rock-hard, and he got it inside her. When he was done, he used her ripped panties as a rag to wipe her cherry blood off his cock.