As she tongue-fucked Jay's asshole, she could feel him writhing beneath her. She knew that he would be coming any minute. She jerked more steadily up and down on his throbbing prick as she drove her tongue even deeper into his tight brown asshole. The taste and the smell of his ass were exciting her, and she wanted him to come quickly so that he could get to her. Then she heard him sobbing rhythmically.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, Linda! Oh, Linda! Oh, I can't hold out any longer! Oh, Linda, I'm going to come! Oh, Linda, here it comes! I'm going to come any second! Oh, yes, here it comes nooowww!"
Henry watched as the first spurts of hot white come pumped from the tip of Jay's prick and arced through the air, landing on Linda's soft white back. Gob after gob of hot gism sailed through the air to splash on Henry's wife, wetting her back and even her soft blonde hair. At the sight of his pretty young wife being soaked with the young football player's come, Henry could contain his orgasm no longer. His hands moved even faster, jerking up and down on his prick until he, too, began to pump his load of hot juice. It shot from his cock, hitting the wall and running thickly down onto the floor. The gism shot forth in a torrent that seemed as though it would never end.
Then, as Jay's cock began to deflate and shrivel Henry felt his own orgasm coming to an end. He continued pulling on his prick until the last drop of hot joy-juice had squeezed out of the tip, and his cock began to shrink. Then, taking a handkerchief from a bureau drawer, Henry wiped the thick scum off the wall and floor. He carefully put the mirror back in place, hiding the one-way glass.
Smiling a contented smile, Henry Wells began to dress. Although he had just finished his orgasm, only moments before, he was already thinking about how fine it would be to slide his prick into Karen Burns' waiting pussy. He felt his cock hardening again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Karen pulled up in front of the Wells house and shut off the ignition and lights. She patted her hair into place as she opened the door and stepped out of the car. She couldn't imagine what it was that Professor Wells wanted to speak to her about, unless it had something to do with Pagan. He had said that it was important and that he couldn't discuss it on the phone. Well, she'd be finding out in a minute.
The phone call from Professor Wells had disconcerted her, particularly since it had come right on the heels of her masturbation. A mental image of Professor Wells had dominated her thoughts as she had masturbated, and to hear his voice on the phone right afterwards had been a shock. Somehow, the professor, and Pagan were closely tied in her thoughts, and this made her sure that Pagan had something to do with whatever it was that he wanted to talk to her about. Perhaps he wanted to do some kind of a study on the domestication of wolves. For some reason, people in the academic world liked to keep their work hush-hush until they were ready for publication, and maybe that was why he didn't want to discuss it on the phone.
As Karen went up the walk toward the door, she took a look down at herself to make sure that everything was in place. She had chosen her clothes carefully when she dressed. She wanted to look her best for Professor Wells. She had chosen a black skirt that fit her perhaps a bit too tightly. She could feel it caressing her snugly around her hips and ass. She had put on a tight-fitting red sweater that buttoned down the front. And for the first time in her adult life, she had gone out without a bra. She felt a little self-conscious as she looked down at her mammoth tits suggestively outlined against the material of her sweater. She couldn't figure out why she had done it. But somehow, Professor Wells was inexorably tied to thoughts of sex in her mind. The very idea that she was going to his house alone to see him after dark was making her feel sexy, and she supposed that this was what had impelled her to go braless. Anyway, everyone was doing it these days, and there really wasn't anything wrong with it.
Satisfied with the way she looked, Karen knocked on the door. She heard Professor Wells' voice from inside. "I'll be right there," he called. A moment later he opened the door. He was dressed in white pants with a crisp crease down the front, and a purple smoking jacket. There was a purple silk scarf around his neck. He looked very handsome and distinguished. Even more so than he had looked in Karen's reverie earlier that evening.
"Oh, hello, Karen," he said. "I'm so glad you could come. Thank you so much. Come in, please." He stepped to one side, taking her arm and ushering her into his house. "Come into the living room and sit down," he said hospitably. "Would you like a drink?" He was already walking toward the bar.
"Thank you, Professor We…" Karen began.
"No, please," Henry interrupted. "When we meet socially, you must call me Henry. Will you do that?"
"I'll try, Profe… I mean, Henry." Karen giggled in her nervousness. She felt unsure of herself, and Professor Wells' attempt to make her feel comfortable was unsettling her still more. Henry Wells poured some vodka into a glass and added about an equal quantity of orange juice. "Ice?" he asked. "Or would you like it undiluted, like me?"
Karen, still unsure of what was proper, just smiled and said, "I'll take it any way you do."
Henry carried her drink to the couch and handed it to her. Then he returned to the bar to pour himself one. Karen lifted the glass to her lips and sipped it. It was good. Tasted like straight orange juice. She took another swallow, and then another. The glass was empty. She looked at her empty glass and giggled. "Guess I was thirsty," she said.
Henry stepped up to where Karen was sitting on the couch and took her empty glass from her hand. He quickly returned to the bar and refilled it. When he handed it to Karen, she just held the glass in her hand, not wanting to drink another so soon. But Henry raised his own glass in a salute and said, "To life!" He drained his glass, and looked over the rim of it at Karen, the expression in his eyes telling her that he expected her to do the same. Karen tilted her head back and drained her glass as she had just seen Professor Wells do. He immediately took it from her and returned to the bar to refill it.
"Oh, no," Karen called. "I think I've had enough. I'd rather not have another."
"Oh, that's all right," Henry said. "I'll make this one mostly orange juice." But he poured even more vodka into the glass than he had the first two times. He was sure that she had already drunk enough of the drugged mixture to have the desired effect, but there was no harm in making sure. When he handed the glass to Karen she took it from him and set it down on the arm of the couch. But Henry Wells, wanting to be sure that she drank it, sat down on the arm of the couch, putting his arm on the back, so that it just brushed lightly at her shoulders. When Karen saw that the drink was in danger of being knocked to the floor, she picked it up. As soon as the glass was in her hand, Henry raised his own.
"To knowledge!" he said. He held his glass out for Karen to clink hers against it. She did so, still trying to do the right thing, and then put it to her lips. She guzzled the drink quickly, and set the empty glass down on the floor next to the couch.
She was feeling slightly dizzy, and leaned her head back. She felt it rest on Henry's arm and thought perhaps that she should lift her head again. But Henry didn't seem to mind, so she just leaned back, allowing him to cradle her head in the inside of his elbow. It felt comfortable and secure.
The vodka was having a strange effect on her. Her head felt light and seemed to be spinning. And there was something else. An unfamiliar kind of warmth seemed to suffuse her entire body. It felt something like what she had been feeling before she stepped into the shower earlier that evening. She felt as though she were bathed in perspiration, but when she put her hand to her forehead, it felt dry. But the room seemed extremely warm.