Denise Bryant - Mother and Daughter

“Oh… oh, damn, honey… oh… oh… o-o-oh!” he cried out, muffling his voice with one hand, while his other was on his lap, '©h, honey… whew! You sure can do it. You are good… oh, you are good.”

We both opened up a bit as we sipped our drinks. I was astonished to learn that Bill had played with himself in the men's room and put on a rubber prophylactic. He had become so excited from looking at my legs as he walked back to the table, that he merely stroked his shielded penis to ejaculation through his trousers as he sat down.

But this was hardly the end of our episode. After another drink, he took me to a hotel room, where we had more to drink and talked some more. I was so fascinated by all this, that it tended to partially relieve my building frustrations just to listen to this man talk. Of course, I really wanted sex with him, but I assumed that would follow.

Bill rubbed his trousers and I could see the bulge of his penis, as he talked to me. He had absolutely no qualms about telling me the most sordid aspects of his sex life, and I can recall as if it were today, how his rambling voice sounded, the words he used, and nervous gestures and facial expressions.

“When I was stationed in Korea… oh, that was nice,” he began to go into great detail, his features wrinkling as he took on a somewhat anguished look, “See, I like little girls, and I like young guys too, sometimes, so I pay a hundred bucks a month to this old geek and he lets me sleep with his two girls and his son anytime I want. They were pretty little things about ten or twelve, and their brother was fifteen. He could take it in the rear or go down… and he had a cute little thing on him… yeah…

“I always go to the libraries now, see. I sit at a table across from young girls or women with sexy legs like you, then I drop something on the floor and get down to pick it up. These kids… these girls nine or ten or even thirteen… they wear such short skirts you can see everything…

“Yeah… I been caught a couple of times when I get so hot I play with myself… I can't help it. I become obvious then, and they call a cop, but they can't do a damn thing except hold me and talk to me and threaten to get me locked up in a mental institution. Hell, they won't do that because Dad knows the right people… and I'm an A-plus student at the university…”

Bill's parents were socially prominent. I recognized their name right away when he told me. Also, I recalled hearing that they had a son in his late twenties, who was a perpetual student with degrees in about five different majors. Bill was actually an expert on the Russian language and customs and gave speeches at various organizations. Yet in talking to him on a personal and intimate basis, I would never have realized he was so well educated.

“Now… I'm ready again, honey,” he finally explained, unzipping his trousers and producing his half-erect penis, “You just sit right there… right there, Denise. Now… act like I'm not here, see. You're restless, You keep crossing your legs one way and then the other… let the skirt creep up… you didn't wear pants, did you? Good. Just let the dress work up… then spread your legs when…”

I think I must have been as passionate as he was. The sight of his big penis really affected me. It was so terribly long and slim and young looking.

In the bright light of the room, the shaft appeared to have a shine to it, while the head was soft looking and yielding to his touch. His fingers worked it up and down. He seemed to be milking it, then caressing it in different places. He stroked the penis, then his testicles, then fingered himself beneath it.

I was rolling with passion, moving my hips and thighs in a slight rhythmic motion as I let my skirt creep up. When I could look down and see that it was well over the tops of my stockings, I leaned back and spread my thighs widely apart. I was rolling my head from side to side and I was saying things and gasping. I finally touched myself.

“Oh, Bill,” I cried out in utter despair at last, “aren't you ever going to screw me!”

“Who-o-o… E-e-e-e!” he shouted like a maniac suddenly, and he was ejaculating all over his hand and onto the floor, “Oh… oh-oh, that did it… damn! You are the hottest thing, honey. Every… every Saturday, you've got yourself thirty bucks. Say… is… can you give me your phone number? Sometimes I get where I have to… I mean really have to look up a girl's dress or I'll go crazy… or do something anti-social. Thirty bucks any time I call and need to look…”

Never in my life had I had to beg a man for sex in a situation like that. Yet no amount of begging could bring Bill to allowing more than a kiss upon his penis or buttocks. He spread his cheeks and told me I could lick him there, but I was not that sick… not yet. He absolutely refused to touch me otherwise, and I felt as if I were going mad until he pretended to suddenly hit upon an idea.

“I'll call my buddy, Luke!” he said with a snap of his fingers, going to the phone, “Luke will screw you till you'll beg him to stop. Luke is the best cocksman I know, and he'll pay thirty bucks too. Luke always likes something fresh and good like you, honey. And I'll watch. Damn, I love too watch Luke go at a girl…”

“No… I don't need the money, really,” I began to object, “And who is Luke? He may be some sex maniac or something…”

“Ha-ha… ha-ha-ha!” Bill burst into gales of ribald laughter as he dialed a number, “Luke just likes to screw and eat, honey. I'm the sex maniac. Ha-ha… ha-ha-ha!”

Could this be me? I just sat there and laughed with him. Naturally I was no angel. Sex had played a very strong role in my life. I realized that I was unable to control my urges, had always been searching and seeking for more than just a marital relation or boy-girl romance. I had done a lot of things with a lot of men. But I was not a whore. I was not a pervert.

Or was I?

The idea of Luke excited me, what with the terribly passionate mood I was in. I didn't really care what he looked like or what he did, so long as he used my body and brought me to orgasm time after time. Nor did I completely reject the idea of the money. I had never been able to save because I spent far too lavishly for my nice clothes, my expensive apartment, my late model car. I was used to luxury and constantly sought loans from my indulgent mother, who knew they would never be paid back. She had spoiled me that way all her life and father had never objected. Now that he could, really. My mother dominated him completely.

Luke was a big man in every way. He was almost burly. When he arrived, he was half drunk and needed a shave. Bill had me sitting in the chair facing the door, my dress to my hips and legs spread.

“She looks like yer type, kid… heh-heh,” Luke drooled his words as his hard, steely eyes unglued me with their basic erotic appeal, “She's a good bargain for thirty bucks, I'm thinking. Looks like she might enjoy a bit, eh? Heh-heh…”

Luke tossed three ten dollar bills on the dresser and dragged me out of the chair. He was a strong and virile man of about 45, and as rough as he looked. His coarse beard ground into my face and his tongue scorched my mouth with its rapacious thrusts. My body burned with desire. I wanted this man to enter me, and I reached down to envelope the largest penis I had ever felt. It was ramrod stiff and it throbbed hard.

“I… I want it… hard,” I said exactly what I felt.

“Baby… you are going to get the schnitzel! Heh-heh…,” he laughed crudely.

His laugh was the only thing I didn't like. His hands were amazingly gentle as he undressed me. I writhed across the bed and touched myself while I watched him undress, observed the thickness of his penis. That was the primary feature of his build, not the length, but the thickness. I wanted it, yet I wondered about the penetration.