But her strangely burning vagina drove her to try to arouse Mark before she was driven to the unnatural act of masturbation.
She kissed it again, allowing her full, wet, soft lips to spread over the soft corona, and then, daringly, she sucked it into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the flesh she so much wanted thrust up into her belly. Mark moaned and squirmed sluggishly at the contact and DesirЋe was sure that his cock began to grow firm and larger against her tongue. She worked more eagerly, sucking harder, licking over the length of the shaft, then again swallowing as much of it as she could until the swelling head pressed against her tonsils and she had to fight against gagging. She would do it, she swore. She would bring Mark around to make love to her and rekindle their dormant passions.
Sid Buchanan watched through the glass of the two-way mirror with a big smile on his face. She was trying to wake the dead and he loved it. The meddling, overly-clever, sharp-tongued little bitch with her moral platitudes should have kept her big mouth shut. In time, he would have got around to giving her some attention, but he had decided to make it tonight, inasmuch as Mark Denning couldn't keep a rein on his wife's tongue. So at a nod from Buchanan, the butler had served the young husband a drugged liqueur and to DesirЋe, a sherry spiked with an aphrodisiac imported from an Asian brothel. Now the little loud-mouthed blonde had a burning cunt and a flaccid, comatose husband. In a moment, Sid would make an entrance and offer assistance.
He saw her raise up and wipe her lips with her hand. Mark's limp and puny cock glistened with her saliva, but showed no sign of life. DesirЋe dabbed a tear from each eye and then dropped her hands to her big, round tits, cupping her small hands over the great orbs. She nudged the spaghetti straps of the white satin gown over her shoulders and Sid thought that she might have heard his gasp of wonder at the sight of her perfectly-formed, grapefruit-sized, creamy, white breasts and the little pink nipples, already erect, that she revealed. She closed her eyes and massaged her strangely tingly 37D-sized tits while the color of her aureolae deepened and their stippling became more defined.
DesirЋe turned and walked sadly to the mirror, behind which Buchanan stood ogling her private charms. She stood there, surveying her feminine perfection and her slender and graceful fingers hooked under the elastic of her panties and slid them down her thighs to her knees, where they dropped to her ankles. Stepping free of that garment, leaving her only in her garter belt and thigh-hugging nylon stockings. Straightening up, she covered her golden, light-brown muff of silky pubic hair with her hand and rubbed it sensually, closing her eyes and dreaming of the lover she thought she would not have tonight. Pressing her nakedness against the mirror, tears staining her creamy, rosy cheeks, she panted hotly, fogging the glass right before Buchanan's wide eyes. Then she turned and, bending, picked up the panties she had dropped. Buchanan saw her round and plump buttocks jiggle tautly, then spread deliciously, treating him to a prolonged view of her nether orifices, her tight, vermilion anus, giving him one brief, coquettish wink, and the plump, furry labia framing the scarlet, moistly-glistening slit of her vagina. Slowly she straightened up and her hand quickly flew to her crotch to try to stanch the flow of her juices of arousal. Long strings of her liquid trailed from her innocently-fired love channel to pearl the carpet at her feet.
DesirЋe gave a groan, for she was embarrassed with herself for being so turned on with no reason. She had no idea that Buchanan had had her treated with exotic substances, but her feet carried her to the bed where she lay down next to her worthless husband. She rubbed her burning mound of Venus for a moment, then with a moan, parted her legs widely and slipped her middle finger down to her throbbing clitoris, beginning to churn her ripe asscheeks on the sheet.
Buchanan felt it was time to make his entrance. Dressed only in a Chinese silk bathrobe, he came silently into the room through the hidden door and moved catlike over to the bed, DesirЋe's grunts and moans covering any slight sound he might have made on the carpet. He could smell the delicate musk of her wetly aroused young love-hole where, he could plainly see, she was carefully fingering her pink and swollen clitoris. The sight, smell, and proximity of her squirming and passionate nudity caused his big cock to stir, swell, rise and stiffen against his silk robe, the only garment he wore.
DesirЋe's eyes stayed obligingly closed as he approached her. He braced himself for her shock when she would see him there, big, heavy, lustful, and tumescent, standing over her with her comatose husband lying not even two feet to her right on the king-sized bed. She would gasp, cup her magnificent, big, round, creamy-fleshed tits in her hands, struggle to cover them as one hand shot down to her hairy, oozing pussy, and sit up with a cry of fright. But Buchanan would calm her, coerce her with all the blandishments and threats he had used on many a political wife in the past until she saw the advisability of going along with his demands. He simply had to fuck this impertinent little loud-mouth with the angelic face and voice. Never before had he wanted so much to sink his cock into a lovely, young cunt. Enjoy her body and thereby make her pay for her uncalled-for remark.
Of course she had stated the obvious, but tonight had been intended to be a night of fantasy for people with the money and power to fantasize. So now, she was wrapped in her own fantasy, groaning the name of her useless husband while her dainty fingers splurged in her silky-furred pussy.
Silently, Buchanan leaned over her, smelling her perfume, that from the bottle she had applied for Mark before undressing and that that wafted from her marvellous vagina. He couldn't wait to feel her delicate flesh closing wetly around his throbbing prick. Leaning close, he put his face close to her jiggling tits, watching the pink nubs tighten still more as he breathed on them. He leaned back, expecting to see her eyes open, but she stayed locked in the amorous fantasy.
Buchanan smiled, straightened up, and shrugged off the silk robe. Glancing at Mark Denning, lying on his back with his mouth open and his hands lying flat at his side, Buchanan moved to the bed, his pot belly wobbling and his giant, purple-ended cock arcing stiffly from side to side at a parallel to the floor, his plum-sized testicles swinging in their great, hairy, pendulous sac against his plump thighs. Sitting on the bed by DesirЋe, his smile a rictus of growing lust, again he was surprised that she didn't open her eyes when his hirsute buttocks depressed the mattress.
"Mark, my darling!" she breathed hotly as his fingertips lightly traced a trail up the inside of her thigh to the silken light golden-brown muff of her pussy.
Buchanan held his breath, knowing that now, surely, she should open her eyes.
DesirЋe panted expectantly, keeping her eyes shut, not wanting to break the spell of revived desire between her and Mark. She kept her eyes tightly shut, feeling his finger gently nudging between her plump labia and into her embarrassingly wet, hot hole beneath her pleasure button where two of her fingers worked carefully. No, she would not open her eyes and destroy the moment. Mark was watching her masturbate, yes, but if that was turning him on half as much as it was her, then let him watch. She felt her tiny pussy stretch around a digit that felt strangely thick and move inside her to the second knuckle. Involuntarily, her cuntal muscles tightened around that finger, which had skilfully found a very sensitive field of nerves on the front wall of her vagina, and she felt a gush of fluid from her urethra bathe his hand. And she kept her eyes closed.
Buchanan smiled. He knew that a small percentage of women could ejaculate that way, squirting a sweet, glandular fluid from that tiny hole above her vagina. The female ejaculation, believed by some to be a myth, but he had felt it enough times, gushing against his pubic hair erotically as he thrust heavily into the channel below with his mammoth cock, to know that some men were blessed with women so equipped. It was exciting in the extreme, that flood of hot fluid that puddled on the sheets below a young girl's writhing buttocks, and left evidence the next morning of her arousal.