Her pale softness and his dark hardness, and how well the contrasts had merged! Lean legs twined around softly curved ones. Long, slow, breathless kisses. A hard, pulsing chest to mash the woman's breasts flat and at the same time fill them with life. The feeling of a man so close he was actually inside her, and strong arms pulling her even closer. And lights turned so low that the face before her was an unidentifiable blur.
Laura dropped the towel on the floor and went into her bedroom. Her legs felt as weak as when they'd failed her at the pilot plant, and her entire body felt heavy and full. She felt lying down but she knew she couldn't sleep yet. She'd never be able to sleep soundly again as long as Coleman lived in Sulfur City. A man like him could even break in on her.
On her way to the closet she stopped before the mirror and assessed herself. Very objectively, she decided she had an excellent figure for an eighteen-year-old girl. Nice high breasts, not really too full, with generously large aureoles and nipples that were, at the moment, still quite prominent. A slender waist, and just the merest hint of a soft bulge at her tummy. Her hips did not flare too widely and there were no pads of fat hinging them to her admittedly flawless legs. Her complexion was fine everywhere, her muscle tone excellent, and her coloration a healthy pink and white. But she felt she should be two inches taller than her five-foot-five, and she knew that in profile her shape was not all that good. Her fanny stuck out too much, and looking at it like this made her think of the girl in the steno pool that had made the crass joke about putting a pillow under her behind prior to having sexual intercourse. And then there was the jarring effect of the triangle of hair that nestled too intimately in the juncture of her loins. She couldn't ignore that, though she tried.
Chuck would appreciate her body when they were married. Of course, he already did with his eyes and, to an extent, with his hands. She liked the way he looked at her at the office, and it felt so good when he stroked her back while they kissed, so passionately and so well. He'd appreciate her completely if they wed, for she was a normal, lovely, responsive woman. Her breasts felt good to the touch of her hands, and Chuck would enjoy touching and kissing them. Her vagina was normal, not big enough to take a member as ridiculously thick as Coleman's, but it would stretch enough so that in time she'd be able to accept Chuck's penis with comfort. She'd fleetingly felt the bulge of him when they were kissing and had at times glimpsed it in his trousers, and she felt a pang of sympathy for him in his patient waiting for her. But good things were worth waiting for, and it would be good with them. Even the intercourse. It would be more than merely comfortable, and she would get used to it, exercising with her fingers as she did.
Not that Laura masturbated any more. She'd quit that years ago, when she'd almost been caught by her mother. Now she used her fingers in her vagina to stretch it somewhat in preparation for successful coitus. To do this properly, she had to be well-lubricated, and for this reason she had to draw back the sheath and manipulate her clitoris. Then her two fingers slid easily into her vagina and she could very satisfyingly stretch that familiar but mysterious orifice, always very careful to preserve that little tissue of her hymen. She parted her legs and flexed her knees to do the exercise there, instead of in bed as she normally did.
She was so wet! She'd just toweled herself there very thoroughly and already the puffy lips of her vulva were brimming with juices. She was hot, and she didn't care. God, she could see it in the mirror without even having to feel the warm waves rippling through her. There was no need to draw back the sheath, for her clitoris was poking out of its own accord, and she mashed it and rubbed it as she worked two, then three fingers in her vagina, and it felt so good, so very good.
That other woman's vulva, redder than hers, and bigger. Coleman's penis ripping through it. Their tongues tangling. His tongue where her moving fingers were, right down there, in her cunt. His prick, nearly a foot long and as big around as her wrist, girdled by her hand, imbedded in her open crotch. Pricks and cunts and fucking. Kissing pricks and lapping cunts. Coleman's strong, white teeth sunk into her tittie. Writhing in ecstasy as he squirted his cum in her hot, hot cunt. Begging him for more, more! Working her ass fast and furiously, desperate to get all she could of the delicious friction and equally desperate to please him. And coming. Oh yes, coming!
With a groan, half of shame, half of bliss, Laura took her hands from her feverish body. As she staggered to the bathroom she told herself it was all right to masturbate now and then. She'd read that. She washed the stuff off her hands and crotch and carefully blotted herself dry. The towel was neatly hung on the rack before she went to her closet and selected a white-cotton, knee-length nightie. In it, she selected a chemistry book to read in bed, knowing that a novel would give her nightmares.
Safely in bed, she was still shaking, not from fear of Coleman now but from anger at him. In exposing his lust to her, he'd revealed a streak of the same weakness in herself, and she hated him for that. She hoped he'd resist his discharge and she'd get to see Chuck throw him bodily off the property. As tall as Coleman and heavier, Chuck could do it if Coleman didn't fight dirty. She'd see to it that the redheaded slut was fired too, for there was no room for people like that in the organization.
****Perry Coleman and Helen Peterson hadn't even heard Laura's VW outside the pilot plant, and twenty minutes after its departure, Helen was snugging black lacy panties over her sex-drenched and slightly numbed loins. She was smiling at Perry, stretched out naked on a test bench, cigarette in one hand and cock in the other. He was a good man to have around, a good fuck, and a welcome change from Bobby Barker. Bobby was younger and more muscular, but at twenty-eight, Perry was young enough, and the lean muscles he had were all put into play when he was throwing a gal a fuck. Best of all, he was a man who knew what he was doing. She was glad she'd encouraged him to approach her at the cafeteria that noon. She'd been good to him, but still it was nice to bear, and so she asked him, "Have a good time, lover?"
He nodded, smiling, for he'd had a bail. She might, be an executive secretary, but she knew what it was all about when it came to fucking. It went to prove that all career women weren't hard-assed, snot-nosed twerps like Laura Dandridge. Helen knew how to throw a fuck like an oversexed stripper, and she looked like one, too. Nice big tits and an ass with just the right amount of fat on it, a soft belly and a red-hot cunt whose muscular control had both amazed and thrilled him. Top it off with an impudently pretty face and the lusty appetite for sex that was typical of a thirty-year-old woman, and you had yourself quite a broad. He wanted to have this one again-lots of times-and he therefore paid her a compliment designed to both please her and fascinate her. "Baby, you're the best piece of tail I've had in over five years."
"While you were in prison?" she asked, and his eyebrows went up.
"How'd you know about that?"
"I have access to the personnel records."
"And it don't make any difference to you?"
"No-especially not since you were a counterfeiter, the elite of the inmates, the high society of the cons. I suppose that gave you certain privileges in prison. I mean, you didn't go entirely without sex."
He looked at her with new respect. "How does a broad like you know what goes on in the joint?"
"I've been around," she said, and deliberately turned her back on him to bend over and reach her bra, presenting him with what she knew was a grand view of her black-clad bottom.