Jim saw it, though, and his power and importance was such that the parking lot attendant immediately averted his eyes from this luscious sight, staring off in the distance.
Grace had the sensation of driving, of being extremely comfortable in the deep leather cushions of the car, and finally of going up a set of stairs with Jim's arm around her waist again.
A half-fleeting moment of complete awareness came to her and she realized she was in a room – a smartly decorated, obviously expensive and masculine study. She was lying full length on a long maroon leather couch in front of an unlighted fireplace. Grace sat up quickly, swaying and attempting to focus her eyes, her heart pounding in alarm. Then she saw Jim coming across the room, carrying what appeared to be a coffee pot.
"Jim," she gasped. "Where are we?"
"My study," he glanced at her quizzically. "Don't you remember? You wanted to come here for coffee rather than go to a crowded restaurant."
His face and the room were rapidly going out of focus again and she was having a terrible time keeping upright. "I… I… think I had better go… home now," she said, struggling to regain her feet, but succeeding only in falling backward on the couch.
Jim laughed and called out, "Whoa, there. Steady, girl. Come on… get this coffee down and I'll take you home. Come on," he coaxed, "try to drink a little of it."
"You promise… promise to take me home?"
"I promise to take you home just as soon as you ask to go." He watched her carefully in an effort to see how she took the remark, and was relieved when she nodded her head.
"That's a good girl," he said soothingly, as though he were trying to steady a nervous horse. He sat down and put his left arm around her shoulders, supporting her swaying figure in an upright position. He felt the incredibly supple warmth of her upper arm. "Here, try sipping a little of this." He held the steaming cup near her mouth until Grace had taken four or five swallows, then he permitted her to fall back onto the couch again. As she slowly slipped sideways the mini-skirt hiked all the way, almost as if it were pulled by venetian blind cords. He saw her lovely pouting young vaginal mound through the near-transparent yellow and black lace edged bikini panties. She had put the panties on over her black garter belt and this made him smile even more; it was this – more than anything else – that prompted his final decision to fuck her tonight. Until that very moment he had been prepared to let it go one way or the other. Now, though, knowing there was easy access to her starved little cunt and not a lot of undressing and fumbling to do, he could wait no longer to possess entirely this young, almost virginal bride.
Jim bent down and lifted her limp, nylon clad legs onto the couch, then pushed a pillow beneath her head. She smiled sleepily without opening her eyes. Next he went over to the stereo set and put on a softly seductive record. Then he padded upstairs and removed all of his clothes, putting on an expensive silk lounging robe which came just to mid-thigh and was fastened in front by a silken cord. He brushed his teeth and sprinkled some after shave lotion on his face before heading back downstairs to the study.
Grace was sound asleep, lying flat on her back with left leg slightly cocked at the knee. Jim could plainly see the shadow of her vaginal crevice and the full ripe mound of warm creamy flesh that denoted the beginnings of her deliciously proportioned buttocks. Softly curling strands of her pubic hair peeked out from under the elastic legbands of her panties. It was all he could do to keep from spreading her legs wide and savagely tearing into the young, almost naked cunt lying helplessly there before him. Only by exerting an inordinate amount of self-control was he able to be gentle with her.
Grace was not aware of it when he eased her shoes off her feet and teased soft wet kisses along the bottom of her foot and up the back of her calf. Nor did she realize what Jim was doing when she felt her hips being raised. She never felt her scanty little nylon panties being pulled down over the smoothly rounded curves of her hips and slid down her legs.
Slowly, the heavily breathing man spread her thighs apart, bending and raising the right knee until it pressed against the back of the leather couch. The left leg he simply let trail on the floor.
Then, with quickening breath, he knelt between her ankles and stared with lascivious eyes at her soft black pubic hair and the wide, coral pink lips of her now completely open and defenseless young pussy. It seemed as if they were a magnet pulling his face toward them. Her cunt called out, begged to be touched, to be kissed, to be eaten like the most succulent forbidden fruit from the Garden of Eden. The hardness of his throbbing prick rubbed against the silk of his lounging pajamas and made his balls ache. He had never felt more alive than he did at this moment. He could feel the cool leather on his knees and the warmth of her inner thighs on the palms of his hands as he pushed them even further apart.
It was not until her smoothly tapered young legs were completely widespread that Grace began to regain some semblance of consciousness, and even then she was incapable of evaluating completely what was happening to her. She knew her naked buttocks were on cool leather, that her legs were spread wide apart, that warm hands were stroking the insides of her thighs. Everything considered, it felt good.
Jim Meloney sensed that she had snapped out of her stupor momentarily. He waited for some protest, then felt her momentarily stiffened legs relax and fall limply open again. He grinned and licked his lips; she either knew or she didn't know what he was about to do. Either way, she was permitting him to go ahead.
Quickly then, he slithered forward until his face was just above the soft, wetly glistening little slit between her thighs. Never before had he seen such a mouth-watering cunt; the vaginal lips were perfect, looking almost as if they belonged on a young teenage girl instead of a married woman. Her pubic hair was more like silken sable and the tiny, sparsely used cuntal mouth was small, delicate… timid.
Slowly, as though he were savouring every second, he lowered his face… and his tongue like a red shinning penis of a dog crept out between his teeth.
He licked once… slowly and gently his tongue moved from clitoris to anus… and was rewarded with an almost inaudible moan. His tongue retraced the wetly teasing path it had just taken, and this time he felt the tendons of her inner thighs tighten and her entire pelvis slowly rise upward toward his face. Unconscious or not, her vagina was responding for he tasted the first slightly saline secretions of her feminine musk as her pussy of its own volition prepared itself for love making by seeping out its warm, slickly welcoming lubricant.
Grace was dreaming. Stan was making beautiful love to her. It felt wonderful, whereas always before it had been distasteful. In her dream she was responding, fervently!
And abruptly, she was in full command of her senses. She struggled to sit up, but found herself pinned to the couch. What was happening to her? Why was she naked from the waist down? Who? What? She finally raised her head and saw the top of a man's head down between her open thighs. "No," she screamed. "You mustn't."
Meloney, instead of answering, drove his tongue full length into the sweet warm depths of her pussy for the first time and used his nose to titillate her tiny, unconsciously pulsating clitoris.
"Aaagghh. No, oh, God, no!"
The man heard her terrified yelp and knew now that he must not stop until she was so aroused she could not help herself. It was now or never. She wouldn't let him near her in the future if he stopped now, but if he continued and she liked it? Who could tell. So thinking, he tightened his arms wrapped about her thighs and buried his rapacious tongue even deeper into the quivering, heated pussy lips between her open legs.