His cock was pounding again. He started stroking it once more, bat this time he retained the camera in his other hand and, seeing this, Lucy whimpered and knelt down in front of him. She didn't touch him, but she tilted her head back and opened her mouth wide and pushed her tongue out. Charles aimed his cockhead directly at her face.
His fist flew up and down. Her tongue folded out and lust twisted her pretty face into a mask of passion.
Charles' cockhead spurted.
A heavy glob of jism fell directly onto her tongue. She left her tongue out as he snapped the picture, then drew it into her mouth and, too indolent to spit or swallow, simply let the thick cum trickle down her throat.
Now that he had come twice, Charles no longer felt like taking pictures. That suited Lucy, who was anxious for him to leave now, so that she could look at all those glorious photos at her leisure.
They admired them together.
"God," she said, "I sure am beautiful!"
"Sexy, too."
"Oh my, yes! I'm so sexy, I glow in the dark."
"Well… I'd better be going," he said.
"You're gonna leave the pictures, huh?"
He nodded. He would have loved to take them home with him, but he feared that his wife might discover them. He always left the results of his camera work where it was produced. The act of taking such photos was enough in itself, and he knew he would be horny as a weasel for the next week or so.
But not as horny as he would have been if he had been able to photograph his beautiful wife.
As soon as Charles had departed, Lucy spread the pictures out across the bed and knelt there, gazing at them in absolute fascination and glowing pride. She didn't think that any woman in the world was as beautiful as she was. She thought that she could put Helen of Troy to shame.
It would sure be a lucky man that screwed her, she knew.
For Lucy was a virgin.
She had never yet met a man whom she considered good enough for her, and therefore, had never fucked a man. She had some vague idea that, sometime, she would meet a fellow who was six-foot-two, handsome as Robert Taylor and rich as a Greek shipping magnate, at which time she would condescend to spread her thighs and offer him the paradise of her pussy.
But she was in no hurry.
Now, as she gazed at the pictures, that virgin pussy began td simmer, then to smolder. She picked up the rubber dick and commenced to fuck herself slowly and steadily as she turned her eyes from photo to photo, drinking in her glorious image with self-adoration.
She bent down.
She began to lick the photographs, running her hot tongue over the glossy surface, wishing with all her heart and soul that she was nimble enough to bend over and suck her own cunt. No one else was good enough for her, but she was certainly good enough for herself, and it would have been just wonderful if she could have tongued her own pussy – it would have been a love match wrought in heaven!
Especially if Charles had been there to photograph it, but now she was alone, and try as she might, she couldn't get her head between her legs nor her tongue up her gash. She had to settle for the rubber dick as she fucked herself to a frenzy and came so heavily that she smeared cuntjuice all over the photographs – then licked it up from them.
She thought that if she weren't so damned lazy, she might take yoga lessons.
CHAPTER NINE
Billy Wilson had been having cock trouble all morning. He certainly was in no mood to shine shoes with, his prick rampaging about in his ragged trousers. He would have taken a day off from his shoe shining, except that the corner of Green and Broad was the only place that Marlene knew to look for him and he was going to spend the day there anyhow, hoping that she might show up. And since he was there, he figured he might as well shine up some shoes. He could always use the money. Besides, it kept him busy, helped time to pass, and it gave him an excuse for hanging around there so that the police on the slum harassment squad would not arrest him for loitering or force him to move along.
But shining shoes was not easy with a hard-on, he had discovered. His hard prick confounded him. It stuck up obstinately, hardened to all influences save desire. Billy knew that a quick pull or two would release some of the pressure, but he was reluctant to do that, because if Marlene did show up, he wanted to have a nice load of jism for her. So he stuck it out. He had to turn his head and shoulders from one side to the other in order to shine a shoe, working around his hard-on, as it were, as if he were a prisoner handcuffed around a telephone pole. At one point, his dick escaped. The knob sought out one of the tears in his ragged pants and slipped right out, just as he was preparing to pop the rag across a gleaming toecap. Billy realized that his dick had come out but he had already started the wrist snapping motion and ft was too late to stop. He popped the rag across shoe and knob at the same time, back and forth, and his knob was glowing with every bit as high a polish as the toe of the shoe by the time that he got through, the purple shell glossed, by seminal polish. Luckily, the customer was reading a newspaper and took no notice. That was good, Billy reckoned. Customers hated to have bootblacks come on their shoes.
Aw, she ain't gonna come he told himself. There ain't no sense in getting my hopes up – I'll only be disappointed. She told me she never did anything like that before, and I guess maybe that was true, so it was probably just a thing she wanted to try. Now that she had done it, she wouldn't want to do it again.
But despite his restraining thoughts, his hopes stood right up there, as vibrant and shining as his prick.
Suddenly his heart missed a beat.
A Cadillac cruised slowly down Broad Street and drew over to the curb. Billy held his breath as he watched it come and then his heart made up for that missing beat by starting a series of quick fire thumps.
Marlene smiled from the car.
Billy gathered up his kit and carried it over to the car. She opened the door and he got in.
"Gee," he said.
"Did you expect me to come?"
"No. I hoped you would, though."
She put the car in gear.
"We going back under the elevated highway?" he asked. That grim and desolate area had taken on a romantic aspect in his memory, a gossamer glory, like the vaguely remembered setting of a wet dream.
"Not today, Billy. I'm going to take you home… to take you to my bed."
She drove off. The Cadillac ran soft and smooth and silent; Billy rattled and panted and squirmed.
From the grimy window of the Regency, Clyde Wilson saw the car pull up and his heart reacted the same way that Billy's had, faltering and then doing double-time. He had borrowed a car, although he'd been unable to borrow a camera, and he was parked in the alley beside the bar, conveniently at hand for the pursuit. Clyde gulped down his beer and dashed out to the old Pontiac. He pulled out and followed the Cadillac down Broad Street, keeping a couple cars behind but making damn sure that he kept the other car in sight.
This was the opportunity of a lifetime for Clyde, and he was determined. His face was set and hard as dreams of blackmail money danced through his mind. His pecker was just as hard with the hope of some blackmail pussy.
Marlene drove into the garage so that none of the neighbors would see the boy she had brought home. This was partly due to discretion and partly because she had an idea that her lusty friend, Julia, if she saw the lad, might take it into her head to come over and borrow a cup of sugar in hopes of getting some of that lovely young cock. But Marlene had no intention of sharing Billy. She wanted every inch and every stroke and every last drop of cum with which he was filled.
She led Billy down the walkway into the house.
He looked around from the doorway as if he had passed through the pearly gates.