"Better than anything. Yesss…ummm."
They went on that way, conducting the preliminaries, talking delicious nonsense until, finally, Vern could restrain himself no longer. He began a kissing descent, licking her rib cage, her navel, her silken pubic mound. And then his tongue was lapping at her nerve center, the fragrance of her vagina filling his nostrils. She lay on her back now, legs spread wide, and she thrust up at him gently as he feasted on the little flesh gathering, her love bud. Her voice became an urgent chant as he tongued her clit rhythmically, then wagged his tongue back and forth, kissed it, nursed on it, pampered it while his right hand continued manipulating her erect nipples above. With his other hand he palmed her pubic mound to guide her hip thrusts at his mouth.
He could hear her moaning despite her smooth inner thighs pressing against his cheeks and ears. Hungrily, he licked the fresh, tight cunt while her moaning became ecstatic. And then she began trembling uncontrollably and clutching at his scalp with her nails. Then, gasping and shuddering, she shoved his mouth from her hole and said she didn't want to come that way.
"I-I want to come with your prick," she said. "Your lovely male prick. It has to be with a prick this time…the first time in my life with a-a cock!"
"I understand," Vern said. "Okay then, let's fuck, baby. Let me up there inside you."
To his amazement, she said she wanted to "taste" him for a moment first. He complied, rolling over onto his back, but she had something else in mind-apparently a fantasy she'd entertained for a long time. Instead of going down on him directly, she moved so that her back pressed against the padded headboard, asked him to straddle her with his knees and fuck her mouth.
He obeyed, and it was beautiful watching the innocent mouth ingest his prick almost to the hilt. Bracing himself with his hands against the wall above the headboard, he stared down and savored the slow, saliva-slick entry and exit of his bursting member between the full lips. As he fucked her mouth this way, he massaged her tits and, reaching behind him, fingered her clit with one hand. "Erghmmm…Arghmmm," she grunted as she sucked.
She began jiggling his balls very rapidly with one hand as she sucked, and when she began stimulating his rectal area with the edge of her palm he knew he had to pull out. He had almost come! Gasping, he gave himself a ten-second breather while fingering her cunt, and then he moved between her legs, holding his dribbling shaft in his right hand. With his left hand, he made a pedestal of her cunt and began easing his prickhead into the tight, gushing channel.
Bleary-eyed with lust, she reached down and grabbed his prong to hasten the insertion. She was very snug, though, and winced with pain. Vern waited a moment, then resumed feeding his hard-on into her. Deeper, deeper, he probed, but it was very tight-going.
"Fuck me! Oh, give it to me! Vern, hurry up and fuck me!" Ellen cried.
There was both pain and pleasure in her voice as Vern eased his shaft in deeper, finding incredible relief within the tight, virgin cunt. If she weren't a virgin, she was the tightest non-virgin in existence! The clenching, slick walls of her vagina seemed to clutch every pore of his prick. His eyeballs seemed to press against the top of his head. Ellen's twat was scalding and mercury-slick.
"Ohhh, Jesus!" she groaned through clenched teeth. "Fuck me, fuck me…fucking…oh, fucking is beautiful!"
She worked her ass in a steady, grinding motion to feel every inch of the bone-hard prong. "Purr-fect! It's purr-fect!" she cried. "Fuck, fuck, fuck…"
Vern worked on her skillfully and gently for a long time, reveling in the thought that his was the first male organ to pierce this lovely, needy female. But then, inevitably, he increased the tempo, began slamming down harder into the tight, flowing cunt. He heard his name being repeated over and over again in staccato breath gasps. He held her pumping ass in one hand, teasing her rectum with his middle finger, as he drove steadily and mightily into the depths of the velvet-textured vagina.
His palm was filled with her lubricant, her head tossed from side to side, and her ecstatic squeals filled the room. And then she was shrieking in his ear. "Vern, now! God, now! I'm com-ming nowwww! Stick me…stick meeee…
Vern turned on his come-button then, felt the tingling begin deep down in his groin, work upward through his shaft until he could feel his balls pumping out their contents into the tight, spasming vagina.
They lay loosely clasped and shuddering then for a long time as they recovered from their simultaneous climaxes. Finally, Vern rolled off and over onto his back. Satiated, triumphant, he stared up at the ceiling. Ellen snuggled up to him and whispered, "Now I know what it is," she purred. "Total and absolute relief. Thank you. I'm a woman at last." She kissed him gratefully on the cheek.
"I'm glad you live in Los Angeles," Vern said. "Because I live there too." He shushed her with his hand before she could speak. "Yes, I live in Beverly Hills and I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other."
And that was the night he had deflowered the virgin in San Juan, Puerto Rico, almost two years ago, and now the virgin was no longer a virgin. She was a bit overweight, flabby and, in fact, at times burden-some…
Chapter 2
Once again, Vera Shipley had enjoyed a most productive and profitable day at Shipley Research Incorporated. He stretched, yawning, rose from his desk, gazed out his office window at the crisp October afternoon and impetuously decided to leave the office at four instead of five. Yes, he would drive a few buckets of golf balls before his usual mind-blowing bed session with Ellen Lanning at her condominium on Wilshire Boulevard.
He stepped into his private John, washed his hands and combed his thick black hair. Vern liked to look at himself in the mirror. At thirty-five, he was slim, handsome, in excellent physical condition and president of his own thriving market research firm here in Beverly Hills. Why shouldn't I leave the office early, he asked himself. I've earned the right. Hell, yes. "Make no mistake about it-I am the president of Shipley Research Incorporated!" he whispered. Vern then savored the idea that he could drive as many buckets of balls as he pleased and arrive whenever he felt like arriving at Ellen's. He had bought her the luxurious condominium last month, she adored him and hungered for his body, and so she would forgive his lateness just as she tolerated his sarcasm, verbal abuse, nagging, criticism, whatever.
Vern winked at himself in the mirror, then stepped into the office adjacent to his. Stan Kettering, his associate, was scowling as he studied the latest computer reports on Wyatt Enterprises, a new client of the firm's. Stan was married, white-haired, almost fifty, and always worked late.
"See ya later, Stan," Vern said. "I'm gonna hit a few at the range before going on over to Ellen's."
Stan looked up, squinting his small, dark, tired-looking eyes behind his bifocals. "Uh-sure," he said. "Gotta few things I want to discuss with you, but they can wait. Give my best to Ellen. See you in the morning. Hit 'em straight, Chief."
Stan always called Vern "Chief." Vern pretended to dislike being called Chief, but he secretly loved it. He exited the spacious reception area without saying goodnight to secretary Vera Klett, then loafed down the hall and pushed the elevator button. He whistled idly as he waited, thinking about hitting the golf balls and about balling Ellen tonight.
Yes, Ellen was a lusty angel all right, he thought, even if she was a trifle too chubby and not much use to him socially with his business associates. Well, he would take care of that little matter tomorrow. Just last week, one of his golf partners at Montague Country Club had informed him about a successful new escort service here in Los Angeles called DREAM-DATE INC., a female escort service, and he had an appointment for the following afternoon to select a female "showpiece"-a rental girl he could display at parties and business affairs.