"That's strictly a no parking zone, isn't it?"
"Don't worry. My husband's a cop. We never get ticketed."
"Oh," Scott said weakly, letting her propel him to the elevator.
"He works three to eleven in the morning. Besides that, he doesn't give a damn what I do as long as I stay out of trouble."
"You sound like a bitter woman," Scott said as they got into the elevator.
"Maybe I am, in a couple of ways. Mostly I get along all right, though. Do you have eggs in your refrigerator? I'll fix you breakfast."
"I don't usually eat breakfast."
"Make an exception, okay? I like my men to have plenty of stamina."
They jumped into her car, a red Camaro, and she pulled away from the curb. Scott thought how lucky he was to be off work at eight instead of at nine, when the receptionist, the other station personnel, and Hal Ransberg, the manager would be in. It would not do for them to see him leaving with a strange woman, even though what he did on his off time was his own business.
Monica pulled into the parking lot of the Roley Towers and parked the car. "Is this all right?" she asked. "I mean, they won't tow me, will they?"
Scott grinned at her. "I thought you were the lady whose husband was a cop?"
"These people hire their own security guards, and they tow anybody they feel like. If I got towed out of here, there'd be a lot of questions to answer."
"I thought he didn't care what you did. That's what you said." He held the door open for her, and they walked into the small lobby of his building.
"I also said as long as I stay out of trouble."
"And you think this is trouble?" he asked, pushing the button for the elevator.
"I hope so," she replied, giving him a broad wink and the same warm smile he had seen earlier. The doors slid back and they got onto the elevator.
As soon as the doors closed, Monica fell into his arms. He bent to her, and they kissed, deeply, their mouths open, their lips bruising each other in their ardor. Her body pressed against his, and he could feel the hard, yielding flesh of her breasts pushing into his chest. His hands moved slowly down her back, feeling her body, and coming to rest at last on the lushly rounded cheeks of her buttocks.
"I love the way you touch me," she murmured. "It's as if you're taking possession, demanding me, wanting me completely."
Before Scott could reply, the doors slid open, and they stepped into the hall outside his small apartment. He fitted the key into the lock and open the door, then stepped back and let Monica enter.
"Nice place," she said. "Nice view."
"Not as nice as higher up, but this floor was all I could afford. It goes up as you do, the rent, I mean."
"Oh, yeah, I suppose so. Can I use the bathroom? You got me so hot and bothered in the elevator that I have to use it or I'll die."
"It's that door to the left. Sorry the place isn't cleaner."
"Don't worry about it. Maybe I'll pick up a little for you if there's time." She disappeared into the bathroom.
"It's lonely being the only one with no clothes on," Monica said, her vocal quality that of a seductive lioness. "Won't you join me, Scott?"
He tore open his belt and fumbled for his zipper. Once he pulled it down, he pushed his pants to the floor and kicked them aside. Monica stared at him now, just as he had done to her.
"Christ," she mumbled, "You're a real man. I love all that hair. I can't wait to run my fingers over your furry chest."
"Is that all?" Scott asked, smirking at her and letting his cock jerk wildly to show how excited he was.
Monica giggled, her eyes riveted to his huge male organ. "No. That's just the beginning. What I really want is that." She pointed a long, slim finger at his burgeoning erection.
"Is it as big as your husband's?" Scott asked, reaching down to cup his giant balls, lifting them to draw attention to their size and heavy weight.
Monica threw back her head and laughed. "Are you kidding? The turd's got next to nothing. Sometimes I think that's why he became a cop. As long as he's in uniform, he can act like a big man, and nobody has to know he's hung like a ten year old."
"Not only that, it gives him a chance to pack a gun, even if it is made of steel."
Monica grinned at him, showing her dazzling white teeth. "That's a good line. I'll remember it." Her hands moved down to cup her breasts. She lifted them as though she were offering them to him.
"Shall we go into the bedroom?" Scott asked, his voice husky with passion.
She shook her head. "I said I'd fix your breakfast, remember?"
"Later. Right now I'm too hungry for something else."
"No!" Monica answered resolutely. "I promised, and I always keep my promises." She marched toward the small, alley kitchen.
"Have a heart, Monica. I'm so horny for you I'm about to come just looking at that spectacular body of yours."
She turned and smiled at him coquettishly. "Then the longer you wait, the better it'll be. I won't take long. I promise." She began rummaging in the refrigerator, and Scott stood watching the soft curve of her buttocks, trying to decide what to do. Here he was, stripped for action, and so was she. Now she was suddenly playing hard to get. He contemplated jumping her from behind and raping her dog fashion if necessary.
She straightened up and turned to face him. "First," she said, sounding like a home economics teacher, "You need some fruit." In her hand she held a ripe banana.
"I don't care much for bananas," Scott said, wrinkling his nose.
"I bet you'll like this one, especially when you see howl plan to serve it." She peeled the banana, her fingers moving quickly and efficiently. When she had skinned it, she leaned back against the door of the refrigerator, spread her long legs wide, and, to Scott's amazement, pushed it gently between the moist lips of her swollen pussy.
"Jesus Christ, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice filled with awe.
She giggled childishly. "Serving you the banana, like I said." She stood before him in the tiny kitchen, arching her pelvis forward, the banana protruding lewdly from her groin as though it were a man's ball-less cock.
The salaciousness of it all was overwhelming, and Scott found himself actually shocked with the perversity of the scene. Still, he knew at the same time that he was incredibly aroused, more aroused than he could ever remember being. This beautiful, desirable creature was abusing her own body in the lewdest possible manner, and she was doing it for him.
Mindlessly, he fell to his knees before her, his eyes on her writhing hips and the tubular, delicious looking banana.
"Go on," Monica whispered, her voice so low he could hardly understand her, "Take it. Just take the end of it in your mouth and suck it a little, the way you would if it were…" she trailed off.
"Oh, yesssss!" she hissed, grimacing down at him. "Suck it, Baby. Make it feel real nice. Ouuuuuuuu, yeah!"
Scott ate, mouthing the banana, taking it into him and chewing it up, swallowing greedily as though he were eating the most expensively prepared steak in the world. His nostrils were filled with the musky smell of female crotch, and he knew he would never eat or even see a banana again without knowing that wonderful scent.
Monica threw her head back and rested it on the door of the refrigerator, soft mewling cries escaping her half open lips. It was easy to imagine that it was a real cock and that it really was being destroyed inch by inch, mutilating her superb boy's body for life. She loved it, and the extreme lewdness of the symbolism made it overwhelming exciting to her.
Grunting like a starving dog, he pulled the last of the banana out with his teeth. He could taste her cunt juice on its surface, and he chewed it up, savoring the flavor of woman and banana combined.
"Now," Monica announced, "You can have what I promised. Take it. Take as much as you want." With her long fingers, she pulled open the hair studded lips of her cunt. Scott saw that they were reddened and swollen with fresh blood, pumped into them by her excited, totally aroused body. Taking a deep breath and opening his mouth wide to create immense suction, he shot his head forward, closing his lips over the moist, leaking halves of her hotly alive pussy.