"Come on… come on darling," she heard herself mumbling, almost against her will. "Come and do it to me. I feel just in the mood now."
He was on the bed with her, his face down to her titties, her nipples being tweaked by his old fingers, and guided to his lips. She spread her legs, her cunt muscles were working, but they had nothing to work on, no stiff dick to lap onto… she began to realize her real need for a man… She was now inwardly glad to have this chance to get more sexual pleasure and relaxation. What a change had come over her, she pondered, to be so urgently seeking release, and from a stranger at that. Before that dinner-dance at the club, anyone who had suggested to her she would ever be lying wanting another man to put in his cock up her cunt, she would have thought not only dirty-minded but insane… and yet here she was, horny and anxious for this old man, her husband's boss, to fuck her.
Eagerly Dimmock gripped her twin asscheeks in his fists and held her while he twisted his body round. She had hold of his throbbing dick and guided the long thick cock to her warm wet cunt as he lowered himself to her. She gasped as he slowly entered her, she humped and ground up at him until his hard stomach was compressed slowly and closely against her soft heaving belly, and she raised her legs to lock them around his back. She was a woman in need of a man… it did not matter who the man was… she was getting the stiff dick she craved. Dimmock gripped her shoulders, and hammered away for dear life at her gripping cunt… at last he was screwing the desirable Mrs. Miller… at last he was sharing her luscious sexy cunt-hole with that good-looking husband of hers. He was intent on showing her that if he could not match the virility of an exceptional man like stallion Silas, he could at least out-fuck her husband. Old Dimmock was capable of showing more control and restrain than Tim Miller. For the first time in her life, Brenda came twice with the same rigid cock in her. She thought for one wonderful moment he was going to fetch her to the hump-peak three times, but he was unable to perform that feat and was pumping his scum into her when she was midway up the slope from her second come to her third.
Afterwards she admitted quite truthfully to a happy Andrew Dimmock that she had enjoyed it with him as much, if not more, than when her husband did it to her. Dimmock smiled at her. She was going to be a real asset to Marko if she enjoyed fucking this much with his elderly clients. He wondered which lucky client would be the first to use her lovely asshole, which man would be content to let her use her mouth on him without her body? Which man, he reflected, would be the first to get her to use the electric vibrator on him? Which of Marko's many clients would be the first to get her to wear a rubber dildo and bugger him? Which man would be the first to watch her "perform" with another woman? Oh, yes, there were plenty of first-timers to be enjoyed by and with this attractive young wife now that she was in the clutches of Marko.
As far as Andrew Dimmock was concerned, it had been money very well spent to be allowed the pleasure of screwing this attractive wife of one of his young salesmen. He wondered how long it would be before Tim Miller discovered his attractive consort was being whored. He would make a good virile stud for Mrs. Dimmock now his employer came to think of it. The old man chuckled to himself. Marko had achieved so much already, maybe a word in his ear and the necessary hump-arrangements might be made. The End
BOOK THREE
Chapter 1
Julie Taylor was not normally a shy girl, nor for that matter a timid girl in any sense of the word. At nineteen she had lost the schoolgirlish outlook on the world and those about her, as long as she was mixing with her own age group. When a perfectly normal, healthy girl as attractive as Julie looks upwards to older ages-well, anyone over thirty is middle-aged, and over thirty-five they must be well past it! It was perhaps this normal attitude towards older folk that made her just a little tremulous now as she waited in the very luxurious, sweet-smelling apartment of a certain gentleman of Oriental origin, whom she knew to be well past his fifties, and in her eyes a very old man.
Tse Ling had kept her waiting while he bathed and changed. It had been through a small theatrical agency that he part-owned that he had first become aware of this pretty girl who now waited for him in his scented living-room. Julie Taylor had taken part in many amateur theatricals while she had been in college. When she had taken a job as a fully-trained shorthand-typist with a firm in the West End of London, she had — more for a joke than anything else — visited the small office of the Ling-Tan Theatrical Agency, which happened to be close to her place of employment. If any part-time aspiring actresses were needed, she would be pleased to do some more acting, not that she wanted it as a full-time occupation but more as a hobby. She had been surprised at the utmost care the woman in the Agency had taken in getting the full details of the young lady calling on them, and she had been even more surprised when a few weeks later she had a letter from the Agency explaining that they were engaging a few young ladies of limited experience, like herself, at a salary that made Julie's eyes boggle, and if she was interested she was to present herself at an address given in the letter on Tuesday evening next at seven-thirty.
The address was also in the West End, and she had to meet Tse Ling whom she remembered seeing for just a very few brief moments at the Agency, after she had been interviewed by the woman. A small Oriental had admitted her into this expensively furnished apartment, and now after a few minutes waiting, the portly smiling Tse Ling himself came into the room, gave her his apologies for keeping her waiting, and bowed low. She saw he was wearing a very ornate silken dressing robe. She thought it odd that he should have been taking a bath at this time, when her appointment had been arranged. She had been on time to the dot, she was not early or late, and yet he had not been ready for her. He poured her a drink and started to talk about the impending company that he was getting together. She sipped at the drink. It was strong, rather like a concoction of whiskey and other spirits. She did not drink much, and this drink was positively too strong for her; she disliked it and yet feared it might offend him if she showed she did not want to drink. She tried to continue sipping at it. She had heard that Orientals had strange ideas about hospitality being refused, and with the chance to get into a theatrical company at the wage that had been mentioned, the last thing she wanted to do was to upset this important little man.
He went through her previous experience; or rather, her lack of experience. She knew he must have all these details already, but he seemed to be intent on going through every minute detail again. She wished she had taken more time with her drink, for now that her glass was empty he hastened to re-fill it. By this time, however, she was beginning to acquire a taste for it, not knowing that it contained a sex-lust-inducing drug; and by the time her second glass was empty she felt strangely relaxed and happy. She kept answering his questions, but instead of sitting upright in her chair and being very attentive to him all the time, she leaned back more comfortably, quite aware that his slant little eyes were looking down at her legs, which were not being kept so primly together as had been the case when she first sat opposite to him.