Vern grinned, scratching his scrotum. Soon he would have the best of all possible worlds: Ellen's earthy, incomparable screwing, plus a beautiful temptress from Dream Date Inc. who was skilled in all the social graces for wining and dining his business clients. What a great idea for a business, Vern thought. He could hardly wait for his appointment tomorrow. Hell, maybe he would even offer his firm's services to Dream-Date-for free! The possibilities were fascinating to ponder.
The elevator doors slid open, Vern entered and got out on the ground floor. Crossing the parking lot, he breathed deeply of the surprisingly smog-free air, got in his shiny black Lincoln Continental and drove to the driving range.
When he'd finished driving three buckets of balls, he had two martinis at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel bar, then drove to Ellen's. It was almost seven when he let himself in with his own key. Ellen kissed him at the door. She was wearing an apron and preparing a stew, she said. He loved her domesticity. He patted her plumpish derriere, sent her on back to the kitchen and sat down to watch the news on TV and read the evening paper at the same time. Whenever possible, Vern did two things at once: he read in the John, sometimes shaved in the shower, and he always read the paper while watching the news. He liked to think this heightened activity was the "key to his success."
The dinner was excellent, although Vern complained that the vegetables were undercooked. Before Ellen served the dessert-vanilla ice cream with creme de menthe-Vern insisted that she take her clothes off and sit naked at the table. She complied willingly, as always, and Vern made her get up from the table occasionally as they ate, and stroll the room for his inspection.
Her body turned him on as no other female's ever had, and this fact never ceased to amaze him. By most standards, Ellen was too plump and even slightly graceless lately, but there was some indefinable something to her walk, the way she smiled understandingly at him, the purr of her voice, the passivity of her stance and manner. He feasted his eyes on her buttocks, the incredibly smooth texture of her skin, the only slightly sagging breasts with their delicious-looking, large, dark nipples. And always she obeyed him…
Yes, her effect upon him was immediate and unmistakable. Even now his erection strained against his fly beneath the table and he could hardly wait for their lovemaking.
'You like?" she inquired, smiling, her lovely full eyebrows raised as she cupped her breasts with her delicate hands.
"Yes, I like," Vern breathed. "Come here and kiss it before you sit down. You know I like everything you do, love."
She treaded softly on the thick carpet, knelt beside his chair, unzipped his fly, let his throbbing erection flop free, and planted hungry kisses all over his bulbous dribbling cockhead.
"More?" she asked, cupping his balls. "Want to come?"
"No, that's enough for now," he replied a bit gruffly. "Let's have our dessert now." Vern's heart was founding so hard against his rib cage he was embarrassed. Somehow, he didn't like letting Ellen know how much she really got to him.
"Please?" she asked.
"No, I said that's enough for now," Vern said, his voice very authoritative now.
Actually, they both knew these little rituals were "put-ons," but they both enjoyed them and so they indulged themselves. Occasionally, he also played "slave," reversing the roles.
When they had finished dessert, Vern returned to the couch and Ellen cleared the table. When the dishes were in the dishwasher, she came and sat down in the big chair next to Vern. As was their habit, they both read then. Ellen kept her legs apart and held her book low so that Vern could cease his reading and gaze at her vagina and breasts whenever he pleased.
Ellen was reading the latest fiction best seller and Vern was reading Newsweek magazine. Every ten minutes or so he would kneel before her, lick her nipples, tongue her pussy briefly, and then return to his reading.-likewise, Ellen would put her book aside periodically, remove her reading glasses and bury her face in his lap, showering his organ and balls with hungry kisses for perhaps a minute before returning to her reading.
Since Vern spent only two or three nights a week sleeping with Ellen, they were able to maintain this almost honeymoon pace of sexual activity whenever they were together. The truth was, Vern didn't wish to spend too many nights with Ellen each week because he feared the magic of their relationship might somehow vanish. It was just too delectable a thing, and he did not wish to tamper with something he had never before shared with a female. Ellen, of course, disagreed; she would have him believe this sort of sexual bliss would continue forever, and she wanted him all the time-all to herself. Married.
It was nearly 9:00 when Vern put his magazine aside firmly, and with determination, began kissing Ellen's full lips, biting her neck, tantalizing her erect nipples, fondling her wet, swollen, and inviting vagina. Ellen put her head back on the chair top, sighing and running her fingers through his hair. She knew Vern wanted to make her come.
This had also become a ritual between them. Vern would make Ellen come at least an hour before they retired to the bedroom, and then she would suck his prick to completion, too. In this way, they were able to enjoy one oral, preliminary orgasm each before their final, all-out, thundering orgasms in the bedroom before going to sleep. Two orgasms each…par for the course…a ritual.
Vern's prick was bone-hard now and stabbing at the front of the chair as he nursed on Ellen's big tits, ran his hands all over her delectable body, kept telling her that she was the only woman he wanted, needed, craved, adored. She breathed in rapid-fire bursts, tossing her head slowly from side to side as he drew each nipple gently but firmly deep into his mouth and swirled his tongue about their mushroom texture.
"Suck them," Ellen murmured. "Oh, suck them and play with my pussy, darling. Yes…oh, yes…gobble them!"
Before he made his final descent to Ellen's cunt, Vern stood and stabbed at the big, heaving tits with his engorged shaft. He placed his throbbing meat in the valley of her breasts and squeezed them over his prick and pumped, simulating fucking.
"Oh, yes," Ellen rasped, her voice harsh with lust at this point, "fuck my boobs, do everything and anything you want. Vern…Oh, Vern!"
Vern then gave her just a little foretaste of his rod. He placed one hand on the back of her neck-just the way she liked it-and let her lick his prick as he watched. As she lapped, he reached behind himself and lightly fingered her clit to spur her on. When he was certain she was truly ready, he then made a slow, almost torturous, licking descent to her waiting, molten pussy. Usually, at this point, it was all he could handle to keep Ellen from insisting on sixty-nining. Tonight was no exception. He managed to keep her head up on the chair top, though, and at last reached her silken-textured pubic mound. Her smooth inner thighs wagged from side to side, alternately hitting the padded arms of the chair and his ears as he nuzzled, inhaling deeply, letting his tongue dart and flick at her love nub while he kept on rippling his fingers across her erect nipples above. "Ohhhhh," Ellen sighed.
Her hips thrust at his face and she pleaded, moaning, for him to gobble her, to eat her up, not to stop, never to stop, to lick her pussy and make it feel better than "anything…than anything!"
Vern took each of her cunt lips deep into his mouth, just as he had dined on her nipples, and massaged them with his lips as he practically ingested them. Then, before she went mad with need, he concentrated his efforts solely on her clitoris.