"Just a girl! Look at these tits, Mr. Vickers – do they look like those of a girl?! Take a good long look, Mr. Vickers!"
He started to say something else, but whatever it was, he never finished it, since I leaned forward and pressed my tits against his face.
Whatever self-control he had up to then, vanished. He moaned like he was crying, then he buried his face in my tits.
I gurgled, laughing, tilting my head back so that my ponytail fell down the middle of my back as I fed him my tits.
"Ummmmmmm, that's more like it, Mr. Vickers!"
Mr. Vickers rubbed his hot sweaty face against my tits. He covered them with kisses and he sucked on my nipples.
I took his hand and guided it between my legs.
He fumbled around with my pussy. It felt nice when he rubbed it. He rubbed it with his middle finger.
The finger was in the lips of the pussy, sliding up and down it while he rubbed. I was all wet between the legs.
He pressed the fingertip against the pussy lips and then he put his finger in me and fucked me with it.
His thing was all thick and hard and I squeezed it through his trousers. He shoved his finger in and out of my pussy and sucked my tits.
He was disappointed when I eased off his lap. But I didn't go far. I stood behind his desk and turned my back to him and leaned forward.
I bent forward from the waist and stuck out my ass at him. I spread my feet so he could see my pink pussy.
I looked over my shoulder at him and told him that I wanted him to fuck me.
He was under my spell. He got up out of his executive style swivel chair and fumbled open his pants and pulled down his pants and his shorts.
His thing was pretty good sized, actually, nice and thick and red, circumcised, with a big wide fat head.
Maybe I should have sucked him off, but my pussy was itching for love.
I wiggled my bottom and he reached for it and took hold of my hips and pressed against me, his red cock throbbing as it rubbed me.
He said that he loved me, which was silly, but it's the kind of corny thing that I've come to expect from some of these middle aged guys.
He tried to put his thing in me, but he kept missing my slit and poking my pussy lips with the fat head of his cock.
So I reached behind him, put my hand on his, squeezed, guided the cock head to my pussy lips, and stuffed it inside.
His cock was fat and stretched me and spread the lips. But I was real wet from the finger fucking that I had gotten.
I thought he was going to collapse from sheer joy when he put it in me. I should have had him kiss my ass, but I could save that for later.
He put his thing in deep and fucked me. He held tightly to my hips as he pumped away, rocking me with short hard thrusts.
I had him hooked now. He had a taste of my body. The first taste was free, but after morning, he would have to pay to lay me.
And he would pay, like all the others. Why not. I'm beautiful, and beauty has its price, same as anything and everything else.
Mr. Vickers came in me.
INTERVIEW TWO
Ned Plymm is a big man in town. Lawyer, civic leader, member of the city council and lots of other organizations, he's a big wheel.
He also has a big letch – for me.
Ned Plymm is a hometown boy, born and bred right here in Hamilton. After he came back from college, he settled here and made his home.
He's an alumni of the high school, and a big booster of school affairs. You'll see him and his family at every Hamilton High game, football or basketball.
Ned won't miss a game, and he and his family always take their seats in the front rows of the bleachers.
But that's not so much because he wants to root for the team and follow the game, as it is that he likes to watch us cheerleaders.
And who would blame him?
Let's face it – modesty is all very nice, but a girl doesn't get to be on the cheering squad unless she's one of the prettiest girls in the school.
Almost all of the girls on the starting squad of cheerleaders are seniors. There's only two junior girls on the first team, me and another girl.
I think that half the grown men who come to the games don't do it because they like sports, they do it because they like to look at pretty girls.
Well, we do put on a real show – better than the way the teams play, most times. And we get as many cheers from the crowd as the players do.
Ned Plymm never misses a game. There he'll be, in football season, huddled in a topcoat, beaming down from the front rows.
We girls cheer on the ground of the sidelines, in front of the bleachers and off the field, except for half-time, when we take to the field and put on a real show.
Most times during the game, though, we'll be right there, down in front, bouncing up and down and shaking our pom-poms – and a whole lot more.
We wear our cheering uniforms, with short pleated skirts. Under them, we all wear little white bikini panties.
When we prance around the field, and jump up in the air in a cheer, why, the entire crowd can see our panties under our dresses.
But Ned Plymm wanted to see a whole lot more – and do more, too.
Beverly was smart. She got in with the main crowd that runs the town, and partied with them, and threw a fuck to some of them.
She found out who they were and where they were coming from, and when she knew all she had to, she went into business.
Ned Plymm was one of her first customers from our town – most of the others had been old friends of hers from New York, the last place she had lived and I guess worked before coming to Hamilton township.
But after a while, she got established here. Ned Plymm was a good place for her to start. He's a real pussy hound, and he likes the young girls.
His daughters are even older than me, with the youngest of them in her sophomore year at college.
Well, he likes 'em young. He's had girlfriends on the side, like an eighteen year old cocktail waitress down at the Red Pony lounge.
But even though he's a married man with more than one girlfriend on the side, he still loves to chase after the skirts.
He doesn't mind paying for his playing, either. What the hell – he can afford it. A hundred dollars once every week or so surely won't bankrupt him.
Not to mention the fact that dealing through Beverly is a lot safer for him than chasing the girls at random.
With a whore, a guy doesn't have to worry about love, or her wanting to get married or get jealous or mess with his home life.
In my case, Beverly didn't even have to show him my pictures. He knew who I was.
Beverly fucked him, of course, like she fucked a lot of the main guys in town, and some of their wives and daughters, too.
She sat up on the bleachers during a basketball game. It was an away game, at a rival school, so Ned had come without his family.
Beverly just pointed me out to him. There I was, on the left end of the cheering line, jumping and clapping and shouting cheers.
She told him I could be had, and went for it all the way.
He got some that night, after the game. I got a ride back to town from Beverly. I had told my folks that I was going to a party after the game, which incidentally our team lost, which was too bad.
Anyway, I had my alibi in with Mom and Dad, who don't keep close tabs on me anyway, so I could stay out nice and late.
It was a Friday night, about eleven o'clock. I rode with Beverly. During the ride she had me open my jeans and pull them down.
The vinyl car seat was cool against my bottom when I took down my panties to let Beverly put her hand on my pussy.
The car seat – and me – soon warmed up. Beverly steered with one hand and drove me to distraction with the other hand.
She rubbed my pussy. The lips quivered, and I got wet inside. My nipples got hard, too. Beverly put her finger in me.