Shit. He was leaving me alone with her. The dreaded moment was starting to look even worse. Not only would I have to get naked for Mrs Hamilton, I would have to be completely alone with her while it happened. No horny Mr Santos around to use as a buffer zone.
When he was gone, she went right into “efficient teacher” mode. “Come here,” she said flatly. “Let’s get you out of those clothes and into something more appropriate.”
She didn’t act like it made her at all nervous to be around a prostitute, to be doing a scene. I wondered if she was anybody’s horny lesbo stepmother in real life. The implications of that thought creeped me out. I had to force myself to keep my mind a blank.
Mrs Hamilton was going through my bag, pulling out my change of clothes. She seemed to recognize the uniform for what it was – something real girls wore in real high schools. “Are you Catholic?” she asked. “Not that it’s any of my business.”
“Yes,” I said. “But I went to public schools.” The sudden rudeness in my tone surprised even me.
She eyed me coolly, taking in that last remark. “Come over here,” she said.
Shit. She was actually making me nervous. But I went over to her. Without hesitating, she began undressing me. “Let me tell you something,” she explained carefully, unbuttoning my shirt with manicured fingers. “While we’re in the confines of this room, while we’re on the clock, so to speak, I have no qualms whatsoever about making it very clear which one of us is on top.” The sound of her words alone felt like a slap. She had my shirt off. She was moving to unfasten my bra then, her fingers were touching the skin on my back, her face was close to mine. I didn’t like it. “If you want to keep talking to me in that rude tone,” she continued, “go right ahead. But consider yourself warned. I’m not afraid of girls like you. I deal with your kind every day.”
My bra was off. My tits were right there in front of her, my nipples shivering to stiff points from the sudden change in temperature. How many times had I bared my tits for strange clients? But this took the cake for strangeness. I felt exposed.
She didn’t touch me, though. She barely even paused to look at my nakedness. She was already on to my tight jeans, unzipping them, tugging them down to my ankles.
I was in that state of half-undressed nervousness when Mr Santos came back to the room, carrying a fifth of gin and a large carton of Tropicana OJ.
Jesus, I wondered, how trashy are we going to get? Where was the top-shelf bourbon, or at the very least, some cheap champagne?
“Well,” he said, regarding us with satisfaction, “we’re certainly progressing here. Anyone want a drink?”
We all did. Mr Santos played bartender while keeping a keen eye on us.
Mrs Hamilton had me completely undressed, except for my panties. Those she seemed to want to take more time with. She lowered them slowly, anticipating the unveiling of my neatly trimmed snatch. She was actually squatting down in front of me, apparently wanting an up close and personal view. It made me even more uncomfortable – not so much that Mrs Hamilton was squatting down in front of me, so obviously aroused by the imminent sight of another woman’s pussy, but the fact that I was getting off on it, too. I was suddenly wet again.
“Good lord,” she said quickly under her breath. She’d peeled my panties past my mound, rolled them partially down my thighs and seen the strand of gooey wetness connecting my soaking hole to the cotton crotch of my underwear. She looked up at Mr Santos, who was now standing next to us, offers of drinks in his hands. “She’s so wet,” Mrs Hamilton explained in quiet earnestness, as if the sight of a twat swollen in arousal pained her deliciously.
I took my drink from Mr Santos and gulped it down. I needed fortification. Mrs Hamilton was fucking hot. And now she was licking me, her mouth was actually on me down there, and I was getting off on it.
Jesus, I wondered; what was going to happen here? Alone, unsupervised with two horny tricks who could get me this worked up; two people apparently intent on doing a pseudo-incest scene, with me playing the part of the helpless bottom, two tops wanting to have their way with me, and all of us downing cheap gin?
I was light-headed. I parted my legs as much as I could for Mrs Hamilton, but it wasn’t easy with my panties around my thighs. She held tight to my ass cheeks, her mouth flush with my mound. She moaned as her hot tongue slid eagerly around in the folds of my pussy lips, occasionally landing directly on the tip of my clit. I was soon so aroused by the lusty sounds she made, that I actually held on to her head to keep myself steady. I had a handful of Mrs Hamilton’s hair in one hand, and a plastic cup of gin and OJ in the other. It all seemed so decadently tawdry. The cheap thrill of it made me press Mrs Hamilton’s face even closer to my snatch, rubbing her face in the slippery folds of it. The horny bitch moaned even more.
Mr Santos lit a cigarette. He stood close to us, watching it all unfold, feeling up my titties while he watched – taking firm handfuls of titty flesh and squeezing, kneading, then tugging roughly on my stiff, aching nipples. He took a drag off his cigarette and then put his mouth on mine, forcing exhaled smoke into my open mouth along with his tongue.
The feel of his tongue filling my mouth, and Mrs Hamilton’s tongue deep between my sopping lips, while Mr Santos kept up his avid mauling of my breasts – I thought I’d come right on the spot.
But Mr Santos had his thoughts elsewhere. He pulled away from me the second before I had a chance to come. “This is going to be good,” he announced.
The sound of his voice seemed to bring Mrs Hamilton back to earth. She got up from between my legs abruptly, her mouth a slick mess. She went straight for the drink awaiting her on the dresser. I could see her mentally pulling herself together; reminding herself which one of us girls was on top.
Within moments, she was in stepmother mode. “I want you to go into the bathroom and put on your clothes. Your father and I want to be alone. We’ll tell you when to come out.”
I did as I was told, stopping first to refresh my drink. I closed myself up in the small, ugly bathroom and got into my uniform. Outside, I could hear the lusty sounds of them going at each other. I didn’t know in what way. Had they managed to strip out of their clothes in record time and begin fucking? Were they only partially undressed and sucking each other, or – just what were they doing? I was not only keenly curious, I was also jealous. I didn’t want Mr Santos to enjoy Mrs Hamilton that much; after all, he was my lover.
Of course, I’d been instructed to stay put in the bathroom until I was given permission to come out. But that was all part of the scene. Naughty girls went wide-eyed into every opportunity to misbehave. Otherwise, you’d deprive your scene-mates of the chance to spank you bare-assed – or worse, depending on the infraction.
I quietly cracked open the bathroom door and peeked out at them.
I’ll be damned, I thought.
They were fucking, all right. But they were, for the most part, still dressed. Mrs Hamilton was bent over the foot of the bed with her pants tugged down to her knees, while Mr Santos, cock out of his unzipped trousers, rode her hard from behind.
I was transfixed – they were in such a frenzy of lust. Plus the cheap booze had gone to my head. I couldn’t believe I was watching Mrs Hamilton get nailed, and in such an unflattering posture. Her white ass looked huge, sticking out like that.
I worked my hand up under my skirt and inside my white panties. I wiggled my clit furiously as I watched them fuck like dogs.