“You can say that again.” Don leaned forward and brushed his lips quickly against the spot. When Glory trembled visibly, he got to his feet and led her back to the couch.
Aroused, Glory sucked air and her large breasts swelled. Their berry tips hardened and turned a deeper red. The roseates around the nipple spread pinkly like a flower opening its petals.
Don’s hand spread over one of the naked globes. The flesh was warm and butter-soft. The stiff nipple nuzzled hotly against his palm. Its trembling excited him. He kissed Glory, his lips burning, his tongue insistent. Her mouth opened to it like a willing vagina. His stiff tongue moved in and out of the warm wetness as if in a preview of what was to come.
When the kiss was over, Glory pulled his mouth to her quick-breathing breasts. He ran his tongue down the deep cleavage between them. She shuddered with anticipation. Again it seemed like his stiff tongue in the cleft there was forecasting his stiff penis in her hole.
Now Don’s mouth moved to one of the nipples. Glory felt her vagina contract and her clitty stiffen and some love-juice escape to the inner surface of her clenched thighs. Sweet torture! The nipple was so sensitive! His tongue, his lips, they would drive her mad. A long, drawn-out suck on the distended nipple now! Glory moaned. It hurt! It felt so good!
“Are you excited, darling?” Don asked. “Are you hot?”
“Yes! Oh, yes!” Glory gasped. “Are you?”
“Feel this.” Don guided her hand over his pants.
Glory felt his organ hot and hard and straining. “It feels so big,” she sighed, squeezing it.
“It’s even bigger than it feels.”
“Oh? Let me see.” Glory unzipped his pants and freed his erection from his jockey shorts. It stood up straight and long and quivering. The hole at its tip was wide with lust. A few drops of semen had escaped and made the crown glisten. Under the clutching of her hand, it bucked and reared, eager to plunge into her flesh-hole.
(Nice cock! Wilma, observing, allowed herself the judgment of experience. But it was Glory’s evident passion, amateurish as it was, that really turned Wilma on. Observing the voluptuous young blonde, Wilma’s hands crept under her skirt, inside her panties, and she jerked rhythmically at her own erect clitty as she continued to watch Glory and Don.)
Glory’s thighs were wide apart now, and Don’s hand was well up inside her. His erection stretched out along her thigh and moved up and down, slicking it down with the leakeage of his passion. Glory’s plump behind bounced up and down as the stretching fingers probed her deeply.
“Put it in me!” she moaned at last, unable to contain her yearning passion any longer.
Don scrambled over her. His naked, muscular behind rose up in the air. Gently, he pushed the length of his hard penis all the way inside Glory. She moaned with passionate happiness. Her legs spread wide and then the ankles locked around his hips, holding him firmly inside her. She dug her nails into the firm cheeks of his rear end. Then she fumbled lower, between his legs, and carefully squeezed his balls in time with the rhythm of his hard-driving penis inside her. In this way their bodies moved together in the act of love. . . deeply. . . liquidly. . . passionately. . . .
Wilma continued to watch, her hand strumming her clitty between her legs. The couple was ardent enough, but obviously inexperienced and often awkward. They laughed too much, in Wilma’s opinion, to allow their passion to build to real heights. Still, obviously, it amply satisfied them. So much so that even after they came they continued to play with each other.
At one point, carried away, Glory began covering Don’s body with kisses. She ran her lips from his shoulders down to his belly then her mouth fluttered to his thighs, just brushing his erect penis in passing.
Don’s erection was instinctual and marked. His hand leaped to the back of Glory’s head and tried to urge it back to the source of the thrill which had possessed him. Innocent, Glory didn’t realize what it was he wanted her to do. After a brief moment, Don subsided—it was as though he had suddenly recovered his senses and was ashamed of his impulse—and stopped trying to push her lips back there.
Wilma smiled to herself. What children! She filed Don’s reaction—the giveaway of his unspoken (perhaps unrealized) desire—away in the back of her mind. It was the kind of knowledge which might prove useful.
It did. About a week later, on a Sunday, Wilma finished helping Mrs. Henshaw with the breakfast dishes and was left free for the afternoon. Mr. Dawes and Glory had gone for a mid-day dinner to the home of the superintendent of the factory. During breakfast Glory had voiced some annoyance over the fact that Don hadn’t been asked.
Now, Wilma could tell from the impatience of the Henshaws that they wished she would leave. She was almost tempted to stay, just for the fun of frustrating them. But she hadn’t seen her father for two days, and this seemed like a good opportunity.
She decided against calling Rafe and asking him to drive over for her. It was a beautiful, sunny day with a mild breeze blowing—just right for a long walk. She struck out cross-country, through the fields and woods, for her father’s farm.
She’d been walking perhaps twenty minutes when she came to the pond. She paused, tempted by the cool look of the water to slip off her shorts and halter and take a quick swim. Then she saw Don stretched out on the bank.
He’d evidently had the same idea Wilma had. His shirt, slacks, and underwear were hanging from the branch of a nearby tree, his shoes and socks set neatly beneath them. His nude body still glistened with droplets of water. He was sound asleep in the sun.
Wilma looked at him for a long moment, thinking. He certainly was well built. His shoulders were broad, his chest deep with a light matting of blondish hair, his hips tapered. Even in sleep the muscles of his arms and legs rippled slightly in the sunlight. With his blond hair and boyish face, he looked particularly innocent and vulnerable in his sleep.
Wilma tossed her red curls and started for him. She’d decided to act. She approached him softly so as not to wake him. He stirred and flung one leg out sideways. His long penis lay casually at right angles to it like a snake stretching itself in the sun. Wilma smiled to herself. His new position was all the better for what she had in mind. A few feet away from him, she dropped to all fours. She crept the rest of the way slowly. When she reached him, she stretched out so that her body seemed almost an extension of his own, her shoulders roughly parallel to his knees, the upper half of her torso flat on the ground between the V of his legs. She leaned on her elbows, propped her chin on her hands and inched forward a bit more. When she was satisfied with her position, Wilma lowered her head slightly and flicked her tongue against the inner surface of one of Don’s thighs. He moaned softly in his sleep and moved slightly. She waited until she was sure he’d settled and then repeated the maneuver. Again he reacted in his sleep. Again, higher this time. And again—still higher. Ever so slowly, taking long pauses to be sure he remained sleeping, Wilma continued to tantalize Don with her tongue and lips. Her light movements were quick and sure. She brought all the artistry of her experience as a bordello “specialty girl” to bear on him, and after a while the proof of her success was quivering eagerly toward the sky.
Now came the delicate part. To give Don the satisfaction his sleeping body so obviously craved without waking him before he was too far along for any possible protest to halt the process—this was Wilma’s aim. She wanted him to awake only close enough to the peak of his passion so that there would be no stopping it. Wilma pursed her lips into an inviting O and leaned over him again.
She took just the velvety tip of his erect penis into her mouth. Lightly. Ever so lightly. Just enough so that it would feel the warm wetness enveloping it. The tip of her tongue dipped gently into the hole at the tip of his organ. Sweet! Hot! Wilma sucked ever so softly. Don moaned in his sleep. She stopped sucking and waited. When she was sure he was still sound asleep, she removed her mouth from the crown of his organ and licked the length of the shaft. She bestowed a series of butterfly kisses over the surface of his hot and swollen balls. Again he stirred. Again she waited patiently. She licked and kissed him some more. Then she took the erection into her mouth again. This time Wilma was bolder. She stretched her jaws wide and let the pulsating shaft slide down her throat. She sucked, softly at first, then harder, faster. She worked the penis in and out of her mouth. Fuck me in the head, Sleeping Beauty! Yeah! Choke me with that hard cock! Feel my teeth on your joint? You dig that, don ’t you? Okay, you’re getting ready to come now, Big Fellow, aren’tyou?. . .