Connie rode him fiercely, her snatch muscles jerking at the impaling lance of his peter, and she felt it stab deeply up her cuntal tract each time she ground her belly against his. She used her cunt like a fist on him, and she heard him sighing in delight when she made a certain twisting motion with her hips. They'd done it hundreds of times, she was positive, since their meeting in the very last hours of the old year, not quite a week ago, and Connie knew that she couldn't get fired of the way she and Roger fucked together.
She closed her eyes and humped, her arms around him, his encircling her. They were like one organism when they were connected sexually, each thump of her heart answered by one of his, each push of his cock answered by a twisting caress of her snatch.
As she fucked him, Connie found herself thinking of her first day on this intriguing new job. It had taken all her composure to stand professionally watching the initial sex scene on the schedule, but that was only her nervousness. She wasn't shocked, but for a few minutes she'd felt like a peeping Tom. No one else shared her feelings, it was clear. Roger, the cameraman, the sound technician, and the two or three other men and women in the room had been calm and professional, and why shouldn't she? By the end of an eleven-hour day the strongest emotion Connie felt was weariness.
The movie wasn't destined to be a cinema classic. Roger, who had written the script one afternoon, stoned on wine and marijuana, called it "a piece of shit" in no uncertain terms. It was simply fodder for the 42nd Street theaters, full of hard-core sex scenes and little else.
The title was How to Become a Stud, and its slim plot involved a young man, played by Frank Porter, who found himself impotent with his sexy young girlfriend. So far only the first and last sequences of the film had been shot, since they used the same set and characters. Ellen had the role of Frank's girlfriend. She was a very poor actress, but she used her mouth like a vacuum cleaner on Frank's cock, sucking the cum fight out of him. She was also the young lady who had propositioned Connie during makeup.
That was the difficult thing for Connie to believe. She could see behind her closed eyes a replay of that first porno scene, with Ellen on her knees between Frank's legs, greedily sucking his penis. She moved her head in great, gluttonous sweeps that almost engulfed his entire root, nuts and all, humming and purring as she ate him. When his cum gushed, she took it in her mouth, on her cheeks, on her neck and hands, massaging it into her skin like face cream, licking her fingers dry. She had a marvelously aggressive oral technique, and when Frank had recovered his erection and they performed a straight intercourse scene on the floor, her writhings and contortions were stunning to behold. The girl – she couldn't have been much past twenty-one – frolicked like a puppy, seeming to derive no end of satisfaction from being sexed on camera.
Yet, according to Roger, the girl was also a lesbian. How did Ellen reconcile that for herself? Connie found herself wondering. Didn't lesbians hate men? Maybe it was the money. She thought of Ellen's hot little hands, the way they slinked and stroked Frank's cock. Was that acting?
Frank's cock. It looked enormous, flashing in the air during the sex scene, but she still preferred Roger's.
He was fucking her with impassioned vehemence now, very definitely nearing his orgasm, and she was doing little but react atop him. She tried to make her cunt come back to life, to tantalize it with the pleasure it could know if they shared a juicy cum, but it was a losing battle.
"Wrong?" he panted, stopping in midstroke. His arms were comfortingly tight on her body.
Connie shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "I think I'm just tired."
"Lift," he commanded, and Connie raised her bottom. His cock popped out. "Switch," he added, guiding her into position beside him. They lay touching, reversed. He pushed her thighs apart and buried his head in her furry wetness. She felt her vaginal petals slip apart obediently to allow his tongue entry, and she rubbed his head with one hand.
Now she wasn't quite so tired. The limber poking of his tongue was making bubbles of sweat form in her armpits and on her forehead, it was making her toes begin to tingle vibrantly, and a whole new world of sensation seemed to have taken hold of her pussy. His tongue brushed her clitoris two or three times in passing, and she moaned softly.
Connie's hand flew out, seeking the hard, damp stalk of his cock. She held it in her fist, feeling the wetness she had left on him, the secretions of her hole, and then she was leaning toward it, her tongue flirting out automatically.
She brushed his hardness with the tip of her tongue, tasting the juices he had immersed himself in, and they were pleasant indeed. Connie licked curiously. She had never nursed a prick immediately after it had been inside her, and it was an eye-opening experience. The flavor was a combination of his own fluids and they honeyed dew of her inner body, a blend she found almost intoxicating. Was this how she tasted? Was this why Roger loved so much to get his mouth working on her slit?
Did all women taste this way, or was it her own special characteristic? Oh, it didn't matter! She stuffed the head of his cock into her mouth and sucked away the delicious lingering juices there before releasing it to begin her favorite oral technique of licking, tonguing, and gentle biting.
Roper's tongue was like a spur prodding her vagina. He inspired her to create lovely music on his dick, and she improvised happily as he rimmed her out. Once or twice his tongue dipped into her perineum, tickling an unbelievably sensitive spot halfway between pussy and anus, and more than once she felt his tongue or finger circling round the pucker of her asshole. He was too big to fuck her there comfortably, and it wasn't a type of sex Connie especially liked anyway, but his careful, slyly lecherous teasing was like a treat from a Christmas stocking.
The orgasm she'd been so far from earlier now seemed to burst into life deep inside. Connie could feel it building as her excitement increased, and she knew that very, very soon she'd be soaring high. She wanted Roger to fly with her, and so she took his balls into her mouth, stretching her lips to their very widest to accommodate him without pain.
She felt them roll within their sac, and she jostled them with the tip of her tongue. He cried out, speaking directly into her responsive hole, and she let his balls drop free. Her teeth nipped gently on his scrotum as her hand languidly shucked the outer flesh of his prick, and she could feel him swelling in the clutch of her fist.
"I'm ready to cum," he told her then. "Let me do it in your mouth." As he spoke, little puffs of warm breath blew from his lips and into the gap of Connie's pussy. The gentle wind tickled her erotically. She purred her assent, and immediately stuffed him into her mouth, where she began to suck voraciously while her hand cuddled and shook his nuts.
Three sucks later he exploded, his thick, hot jism filling Connie's mouth. Her jaws ballooned out if self-defense, but she retained his seed without swallowing. The sticky stuff collected in her oral cavity against the moment when she too would climax.
It came within seconds. As Roger's cock continued to unload, his tongue and fingers did strange, wonderful things to Connie's tingler. The fires of lust flared up inside her, and she opened her throat for a cry of joy that was drowned suddenly by the wave of his cum that flowed down her gullet. More spurted to join it, and they shuddered and writhed together on the bed while the springs creaked and rattled beneath them.
Still in their sixty-nine position, Roger stroked her warm, moist body affectionately. "We really should move in together," he pointed out. "I don't see why you're against it."
"How would I explain you to my children?" she asked. They'd been through this before.