"No… the bedroom…" she whimpered, feeling the stiffening length of his prick under her cheek, feeling the warmth of it come through his pants and ignite her body.
"Huh-uh," he said again. "Not there. I've got enough to overcome with you. I don't need ghosts, too."
"All right, Logan," she gasped, knowing what he meant, knowing that she had wanted it there so that Carl's memory would give her the strength to resist.
There was a groan from the corner of the room that startled her – like a groan from the past, a warning not to yield. Midnight lifted up and stretched and yawned grandly, his tongue curled into a loop, his teeth catching the light. Then he circled and looked at them and thumped his tail against a table leg before collapsing to the floor again.
"Put him out, Logan," Chris whispered quickly.
Logan looked at the black dog and then back at the blonde at his waist. His prick throbbed heavily. He tangled his fingers into the yellow silk of her hair and tugged gently, hearing her gasp of passion. He licked his lips and moaned softly and then released her.
There would be time for that later…
Chris watched him go over to Midnight and call him towards the door. The dog wanted to sleep, but he got up and padded onto the porch at Logan's command.
Few men got along with Midnight. Or maybe it was the other way around. But Midnight liked Logan. She felt good inside about that. It was a good sign. It was something she could trust.
He came back towards her. The hump at his crotch was plain now. She looked at it and felt her pussy clambering for its first cock in three years.
She felt dizzy with the knowledge that she'd gone that long without fucking. She'd had plenty of chances, it wasn't that. There was the loyalty to Carl, the memory of him, the fear that nobody would ever measure up to him.
It wasn't that she was sexless, either. But she'd found a solution to salve her jittering pussy and keep herself from becoming prey to the unscrupulous studs who had fluttered around her for the first two years, wanting all the goodies that Carl had left behind.
The solution hadn't been enough lately. Finger-fucking was fine for a while. It could take care of the burning need. It was fine in the dark of night when she would awaken with her pussy aflame and dripping between her thighs and her hips pumping up and down as if there were a prick thrusting into her cunt.
She could spread her thighs and move her hands between her legs and make her fingers swirl over her honeyed cunt-mouth and straining clit, make them massage the bloated lips and even venture into the slick, wet haven of her cunt in imitation of a big cock.
But the time had come now when she wanted a real one, a hard one, a cock that spurted and boiled slick sperm into her depths and bathed her flaming pussy walls to put out the fire inside her.
She saw it. It was coming towards her, hard and long. She could see the full line of the throbbing shaft inside his pants, and she couldn't suppress the little shiver rippling through her body.
She wanted it. Even if it wasn't Carl's, she wanted to be fucked by that hard, thrusting prick!
"Ohhhhhh, God…" she moaned softly, lying back on the couch before he was even over her, shameless and hot.
He paused. He gazed on her slim, willowy form, seeing the clear outline of her thrusting, firm tits under the satiny material of the green dress.
He ran his eyes over the pinch of her waist, the sweet curves of her hips, the way the material dipped between her thighs and outlined the vee of her pussy.
He saw the trim thighs, the long legs, slightly parted now, the undercurve of her tight ass. He saw the blue eyes, hooded with passion, the slackness of her red, full lips, the fine chiseling of her nose and chin.
"God, you're beautiful," he whispered.
"Don't watch me like that, Logan," she moaned, turning her head to the side. "I feel obscene!"
She closed her legs. He stood beside the couch and reached down gently and slid his hand between them, running it high up between her soft inner thighs, pushing the skirt up to the triangle of her slick panties.
Her legs opened again as if under their own will. She knew her pussy was draining syrupy honey into the crotch of her panties, soaking them, leaving a dark, sticky streak on them that he could see and feel.
"Ohhhhh, God…" she gasped thickly, feeling her cunt-lips shudder with the touch of the tip of his finger.
"So ready," he whispered. "So hot and yearning and ready! Chris, how could you go so long without it!"
"Ohhhhh, don't-don't torture me, Logan! I feel so shameless like this! Do it! Hurry and do it and get it over with!"
Her hips pumped up and down wantonly. They circled and shifted. She felt the give of the sofa cushion under her tight, round ass-cheeks, the heat steaming up from between her legs.
"You don't look shameless," he said. "You look like a Girl Scout, all green and yellow and pretty."
A peal of hiccuping laughter left her lips and made her shake all over. She put her arm over her eyes and gave him an affectionate oath. It was just the kind of thing Carl would have said.
Because her eyes were covered, she didn't see the way his prick pounded with quick urgency in his pants or the way his eyes shifted from her squirming body to the framed snapshot on the coffee table – the one of Robin in her bikini that was taken a year ago on her fourteenth birthday.
He undid his belt. He pushed down his pants. Chris heard the rustle of clothing and drew her arm away. She stared at the thrust of his big prick, the throbbing redness of it jutting from the snarl of blond pubes.
"Oh, my God!" she cried heatedly.
Her pussy-mouth jumped and spasmed around the tip of his finger. She felt the slick nylon of her panties being pressed into her puffy, drenched gash, and she knew there was no way she could back out of it now.
What was worse, she didn't want to back out of it. She wanted that big cock up her sweltering cunt!
"Olihhhh, Logan – do it! Take my panties off! Stick that thing inside me! Ahhhhh, God, I want it!"
He leaned towards her, his prick throbbing. He fixed his gaze on her soft, slack lips. He saw the tip of her pink tongue just inside the white, even line of her teeth.
"Then take it, Chris," he whispered.
She stared at the slitted knob. She saw the gleam of oil there. She watched him angle the strong prick-shaft right towards her parted lips. She licked the soft surfaces. She felt hypnotized. She felt as if she were going to suck his cock into [missing text].
"Ohhhhh, take them off, Logan!" she gasped, turning her head to the side again, her chest heaving with her quick breaths.
He slid his hands up the outsides of her hips, pushing the skirt high, baring her slick white bikini panties. He kneaded her hips, his fingers curling around towards the firm meat of her ass-cheeks, her mouth against her will, even though it was her pussy-mouth that screamed for it.
"Ohhhhhh, no, Logan – no!" she gasped finally. "Fuck me! Fuck my cunt!"
He backed away after a moment's reluctance. He let out a small sigh of resignation that she didn't catch and sat on the edge of the sofa near her churning hips. His prick throbbed at the sight of her red, pursed lips.
That, too, could come later…
Chris moaned and opened her thighs shamelessly, letting him see the dark wetness flowing from her cunt-gap, the puffy mounds of her bloated, parted pussy-lips, the little crinkles her honey-yellow pubes made.
His fingertip ran up and down her pantied slit and twirled slightly at the top of her cleft, making her clit sing and pulse.
"Ahhhhh, my God! Take them off and fuck me!" she cried.
"Huh-uh, baby," he rasped. "You've got to do some of this yourself. You slip them off. Bare your hot cunt to me and spread your pussy-lips with your fingers, and let your cunt talk to me. Let it smack its lips and tell my hard cock to come inside. Reach, Chris – reach out and stop expecting everything to come to you."