Carl Van Marcus - Lady Disk jockey

“Aaaaaaggghhh!!!” she cried softly, locking her long, slender legs over his shoulders and squeezing his bobbing head, until she was exhausted and had to release him. Her fingers traced the lean planes of his face as she murmured, “Oh Stan . . .” “You should have let me do it the first night,” he said, licking her belly before standing. “Now, you want to undress me?”

All reserve gone, the aroused brunette nearly ripped his clothes off. She pulled his pants and undershorts down with a savage clutching of her groping fingers, dropping to her knees as his turgid cock leapt free of its confinement. Before he could kick his slacks away, Sally Sue’s tiny pink tongue was urgently licking the blood-engorged head and her soft warm lips were showering teasing little kisses on it. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, kneeling subserviently, lewdly mouthing the lust-swollen male organ. With an urgent gasp, she opened her mouth wide and the tight soft “0” of her pursed lips engulfed Stan’s hotly pulsing cock to its thick base. She hugged him tight and her cheeks drew in with the desire of her sucking.

And then, almost roughly, he pulled her head away. She whined in frustration and tried to get him in her mouth again but he was pulling her to her feet, pushing her down on the bed and lying beside her.’ Sally Sue sobbed. Why didn’t he want her that way, when she needed it so much?

She knew he’d liked what she did. The way his hips jerked, driving his penis even deeper into her throat, told her that. So why had he stopped her?

“Hey, pretty girl, we gotta rap,” he said, even as he moved to kiss her naked breasts and squeeze the smooth roundness of her buttocks and then slide his lewdly searching fingers into the warmth of her pulsing cunt. Sally Sue squirmed and spread her legs wantonly, giving him full access to her quivering flesh as he continued to talk softly. “Something sure did happen to you. The other night, you were scared of yourself . . . what I’d call a really reluctant lay. You damn near kicked my head in when I tried to eat you. But now you’re wild for it and you were sucking my cock out by the roots. I think we know each other enough for you to tell me how come!”

“Oh, Stan, Stan . . .” the emotionally tortured dark-haired disc jockey groaned. “I want to — I have to beat it out of myself, get up my courage.” With a boldness she didn’t know existed, Sally Sue reached and grasped his penis and tried to twist on the bed to take it into her yearning mouth again. “Let me . . . please let me.”

“NO!” he said, yanking her back by her long black hair. “Later! I’ve got to do some gut-spilling too, Sally Sue. I know you’re curious about the Ferrari and how I can afford a dinner like we had tonight. Well, I have to tell you, and it’s not a pretty story. Whatever you lay on me can’t be nearly as bad. Now listen . . .”

You want to bet? Sally Sue Bennett thought to herself.

As his tale unfolded, the long-tressed woman had to admit that a couple of weeks earlier, it would have been shockingly obscene. Not it seemed mild.

Put briefly, Stan Oakes was from a multimillionaire East Coast family. He had been in his junior year at an Ivy League college when the scandal came to light.

A night on a beach at a lake in Maine with a group of frat brothers and sorority girls from another college began as a routine beer bust and clambake. Then it turned into a group grope as the brothers added 90-proof alcohol to the beer and everybody got smashed and lost their inhibitions, what few they had. There was a daisy chain, and couples screwed indiscriminately by the light of the fire. Stan couldn’t remember how many girls he’d had, but on that night he was sexually tireless. In time, four couples had slipped away to a ‘rustic cabin and an orgy to challenge ancient Rome had developed.

When the State Police arrived at the call of an indignant neighbor, they broke in without knocking.

“I was screwing this wild redhead in the bottom — sodomizing her — while she was sucking my buddy and another chick was ‘squatting over his face while he ate her out. The redhead was turned. on from both ends, really grinding her tail and humping back, wanting me deep in her asshole, and it was so wild we never heard the troopers until they blew a whistle and began pulling us out of each other. Then, as they say, the shit hit the fan. We wound up with our asses in a country jail and nothing but blankets . . . plus hangovers. I was lucky. My family had enough bread to cool the beef, but I got marching orders, so here I am,” Stan Oakes concluded.

“Fantastic!” Sally Sue breathed. She didn’t understand how a girl could eagerly be sodomized . . . yet when Terry had slipped his. finger into her tight little anus last night, there had been a wild excitement to it. “But with your money, why do you take on such a menial job? Even if you haven’t got your college degree, you should be able to get something better.”

“Sally Sue, you don’t get the picture,” the young man replied patiently. “Our little teakettle is owned by Oakes Industries. As an act of penance, I was sent out to find out what’s wrong with it. What’s wrong would fill a book, and the title would be Harold Eaton, who is too damn stupid to even know whom his station belongs to.” He chuckled and kissed her breasts lingeringly, his tongue teasing as his mouth sucked, and Sally Sue writhed in abandon reaching again for his still rigid cock. But he drew away, wanting to talk further. “There’s only one asset the station has — YOU! Without the Sally Sue Bennett Show, Eaton couldn’t sell time for dog food commercials. Now, keep this under your merkin, but in a few weeks you’ll be getting a TV offer. I told the old man we were wasting you using just your voice. This magnificent bod will kick hell out of the rating charts. How’s that grab you, darlin’?”

“I — am — stunned!” Sally Sue managed to say. “But you have to know about me . . . about what an animal I’ve turned into.”

“The pelt feels nice,” Stan said, rubbing her anxiously quivering hair-lined pussy and slowly working his middle finger to the first knuckle in the tightly constricting ring of her anus while Sally Sue gasped. Yet she didn’t repel him, recalling how pleasant it had been when Terry Claff did the same to her — only deeper ! He whispered, “How’s it feel, darling?”

Darling! He’d finally come out with what might be a love word! Sally Sue trembled and for an answer pushed down against the invading finger and felt it slide slowly, tantalizingly far up into her rectum. With lewdly playing fingers she handled his cock, building up her courage to tell him just what sort of carnal beast she was.

With none of the glibness of her radio personality, Sally Sue abjectly told Stan of the wanton triangle she had engaged in with Terry and Virgie. She told him of her broken marriage and her loneliness, and she didn’t spare herself. She was softly crying when she had purged herself. Sally Sue was afraid the slender young man would be revolted by her tale.

But he only laughed and kissed her as he said, “Group sex is the greatest, and it’s the one thing I miss out here, because if I get caught in the way I was before, I’ve got a year in jail hanging over my head.” He tugged at his long hair and added, “Those two sound wild . . . wild enough to have slipped you a pill or something. Kids grow up quicker every year, and you said this chick’s father has a drug store.”

“Well, yes, he does,” Sally Sue replied, thinking. A light was beginning to dawn. Some aphrodisiac could have been put in her coffee or something. And now, looking back, it did seem strange that Terry had appeared with his camera at just the most compromising time. There was no denying the sinful, lewd pleasure she’d received and given . . . and with hindsight, no way to discount the fact that they were both old and wise beyond their years.