"Ahhhhhh," Wendy moaned.
When her last little spasm of pleasure died away, Art raised his head from her soaked pussy and wiped her sticky cream from his face. "Now it's your turn to do something for me, my dear," he said.
"Of course, Art," Wendy said eagerly. She was grateful to the old man, and she wanted to return the favor.
"Take my clothes off first," he grinned.
Wendy hurried to obey. Quickly and deftly she helped him out of his clothes, noting the expensive material and famous labels. Again she thought what a comfortable life she could have with the indulgent old millionaire – and again she longed for Dick and a normal married life. Perhaps by tomorrow she could make up her mind which it was to be.
For an old man, Arthur Williams was in excellent shape, his broad-shouldered little body firm and hard. His chest was thickly furred with white curls, his hips and ass trim and muscular. But his cock was totally limp, much to Wendy's surprise. The little wrinkled sausage rested sleepily in a thick nest of white hairs.
Art looked down at his flaccid pale cock and empty rosy balls. He sighed and said, "A man my age often has a hard time getting it up, my dear. It could take awhile, and you'll have to help me out."
"Of course, Art," Wendy said. "What do you want me to do? Should I give you a blow job?"
Art swung his legs off the couch, stood up, and said, "What's your favorite flavor of yogurt?"
"What?" Wendy said. She was afraid the old dude had suddenly gone senile.
Art chuckled and said, "There's a method in my madness, my dear. Just tell me what kind of yogurt you like best."
Wendy thought a moment and said, "Why, cherry, I guess."
"Good," said Art, "I just happen to have some."
He trotted out of the room, his pale little cock wagging, and soon returned with a carton of cherry yogurt which he handed to Wendy. He lay down on the rug, stretched full length on his back, and grinned wickedly at her.
"Spread that stuff on my cock and balls," he said, "and then lick it off."
Wendy giggled, both from shock and from naughty excitement. The old guy might be a little weird, but it was a fun idea. She hurried to kneel beside him on the rug and started smearing the cool thick yogurt all over his flaccid little prick and slack rosy nut sacs. She could already feel the hot saliva pooling in her mouth as she thought of going down on his cherry-flavored cock and balls.
"Art, you devil," she laughed, "did you think this up all by yourself?"
"I prefer to be original," he chuckled. "I wouldn't want anything as common as whipped cream. Besides, yogurt is better for you."
Wendy laughed and set aside the half-empty yogurt carton. She spread Art's legs and knelt between them and dipped her face down into his pink-smeared crotch. She began greedily lapping the cool tasty yogurt from his little wrinkled cock, making the little sausage flop and bounce. It was an incredible turn-on. Art gasped delightedly with each firm flick of her tongue on his cream-smeared meat.
"Now my balls," he panted.
Wendy nosed lower in his crotch and lapped his cool flaccid nut sacs, lashing them hard and briskly with her tongue, cleaning up every bit of the yogurt. Art sighed and wriggled with horny pleasure as he felt her hot muscular tongue massaging his sensitive balls. She licked them clean and then returned to his cock.
"Get it all," Art said breathlessly. "Suck it."
Wendy was only too eager to obey. She took his cream-soaked prick into her mouth and began to suck it loudly, making greedy wet slurping noises. Art's eyes rolled wildly, and then she felt his prick starting to grow on her tongue. It stiffened into six thick inches of throbbing cock-meat just as she was swallowing the last of the yogurt.
"Keep sucking me," Art gasped. "Bring me off, darling."
Wendy obeyed, her thick brown hair flying as she gave him a vigorous head job. She took his stubby hard cock all the way in her mouth, till his furry balls rubbed her chin. She drew in her cheeks to make a tight juicy nest for his swollen cock-meat, sucking as fast and hard as she could.
"Oh, Jesus, yes," Art moaned. "That's beautiful, my dear. Just a little more now."
Wendy had a surprise for him. Suddenly she gave a powerful suck on his throbbing stiff dick and took the fat hard head right into her throat. Art yelped with pleasure, jerked his hips furiously, and then shot his load, filling her mouth with delicious steamy come. Wendy eagerly swallowed every last drop.
Later, as they rested in bed, Art said, "Wendy, I want to make you a proposition, and I'll just come right to the point. Be my mistress. Live here with me, please me in bed, and I'll give you a thousand dollars a month – not to mention the trips we'll take and the clothes I'll have specially made for you. Really, my dear, if you stay with me, you can have anything you want."
Wendy sighed. "Art, I'd love to," she said, "I really would. But I can't. There's something I want even more, something back in Oakdale. And I'll never forgive myself if I don't go back and look for it."
CHAPTER NINE
Wendy's hand, sweated as she held the phone.
"Dick?" she said. "This is Wendy. I just got back to town. I-I'd like to see you very much, Dick."
There was a short pause on the other end of the line, and then Dick said, "Sure, Wendy. I have to do some overtime at the factory tonight, but I could drop by around eight."
Wendy breathed a big sigh of relief. "That would be fine, Dick," she said, "just fine."
She hung up and glanced around her dingy little apartment. She didn't anticipate living there very long. Soon she and Dick would be mated and have theft own house. They'd need a house, because Wendy intended to have kids, at least two, a boy and a girl.
All the cold glamour of the beauty pageant scene had taught her that what she really wanted and needed was a simple small-town life with Dick. She'd been with many wealthy and well-known men, but she hadn't loved them and they hadn't loved her. She knew now that the only man who really mattered in her life was Dick.
Wendy tidied up the apartment and put on clean jeans and a prim cotton shirt. She brushed her thick glossy brown hair straight down her back, the way Dick had always liked it. She didn't need any make-up. Dick had never approved of it. At eight o'clock she was waiting for him, happy and excited.
He was right on time. When Wendy opened the door and saw him, she gave a delighted little cry and threw herself into his arms. He was just as she remembered him, tall and well-built and handsome. She didn't mind that his brown hair was unfashionably short, didn't mind that he had no fortune or fame. All she wanted was to be with him again, this time for good.
Dick gave her a squeeze and released her, then looked her over. "Well, well," he said, "so this is the famous beauty queen? I expected you to be wearing diamonds and an evening dress."
"I didn't think you'd be impressed, Dick," Wendy said shyly. "I decided to dress just like I used to. Please, come in and sit down. I'll make coffee."
"I'd rather have a beer, if you've got any," Dick said, lounging on the couch.
"Oh, of course," Wendy said. "I'll join you." She was surprised. Dick had never shown any interest in alcohol before. But she was glad he'd requested it. She was dying for a drink herself.
She opened two cans of beer and brought them to the couch. She handed Dick his and sat down beside him and said, "Well, how have things been with you, Dick? Everything's gone okay, I hope?"
"I can't complain," he said after taking a big pull on his beer. "Got promoted at the factory. Got a new car. Of course all that kind of stuff must seem pretty boring to you, after the things you've done."