David Lasher - Randy sis Cindi

"Does it do anything for you, horse?" she giggled. "It sure does for me."

"Never let it be said I didn't try," John chuckled. He drew his left hand away and replaced it with his right, gazing down inside her blouse. He gave Helene's cunt a squeeze, she felt tingles fanning out through her pelvis. Those two martinis she had downed earlier were working overtime.

"Well, don't finger fuck me right here," she giggled. "Let's go someplace."

"You pick the spot," he said.

Helene suddenly recalled she had the key to a woman friend's apartment. Beth was in Europe with a young screenwriter ten years her junior. Beth was a rich widow; she and Helene had got it on a couple of times using a two-pronged dildo.

Shivering, Helene started the motor, a heady surge of need bunching in her groin. John kept his hand on her pussy, and she managed to drive with her legs open. She was so excited, she almost ran a red light. John might prefer young cunt, but he was sure going for hers.

John was recovering from the emptiness he had felt after bringing Cindi home. He had really hurt her. Maybe he should have fucked his daughter. Booze loosens the morals, so he had purposely not taken any liquor to the picnic. He could worry about incest tomorrow. The classy divorcee from next door wanted a fuck, and his cock was getting up.

He didn't ask questions about the extravagant apartment with a fine view of Santa Rosa Island, but it obviously belonged to a woman of good taste, since the decorations were very sensual. He had not been this drunk for a long time. Another easy lay, and the pussy he wanted most he couldn't touch.

"Drink first?" Helene cooed, gliding against him, her tits riding hard on his chest, her rich thighs opened, and her cunt flattened to his basket.

"At intermission," John chuckled, gripping her resilient ass, and lifting her skirt behind. He ran a finger across her fine warm thighs between the stocking tops and panties.

"Oh, shit, you feel good," she breathed in his ear. "Isn't Wendy doing her homework?"

"I'm just teaching her how to be a good fuck," he grinned.

"You dirty animal-but I love it!" she said. Her lips coursed along his cheek as she found his mouth and opened her mouth wide. He burrowed into the clinging softness, his cockhead beginning to swell. Her tongue flicked and flirted, while a soft whine came up in her throat.

He touched her panty-hugged cunt and she trembled, giving him more tongue. Her slit was already juiced, and he played along it as she back tipped her ass. No matter how hungry a pussy was, he always gave it plenty of fingers and mouth, exploring and re-exploring. Making the woman come was the mark of a good craftsman. The rest was pure delight.

John tickled Helen's cunt and nibbled around on her lips till she gasped and buried her face against his shoulder. Her short, dark wavy hair smelled great, and her arms gripped as if she were starved for cock. She was a grown-up image of Dotti, her twitchy-assed daughter. That dainty little cunt needed fucking, too.

"Let's get these clothes off, honey," she breathed, "unless you want me to come right here!"

"I heard once that French girls are good at humping," he murmured.

"Oh, you've been in Europe, you probably already know that," she said, shivering. "I want you to know right now, whenever you want a little on the side, just call."

"It depends on how good it is," he laughed.

Helene felt a high, sweet glow she had not experienced for ages. Whoever had fucked with John earlier had not taken all of his strength. Helene had the Continental outlook on sex, even though she had not been born in France, as many people thought. Her ex, Henri, had taught her that. Her father was working in the embassy at Paris when Henri had spotted her at eighteen.

A typical provincial American, Helene had not known much about sex. Henri had even picked her cherry, though he waited almost a month after the marriage to tear it. But he had sure enjoyed her body from one end to the other; he had broken her in before his big moment, finally easing his cock into her cunt.

Two years later, Helene had learned why he went off so infrequently with her. He had been keeping a middle-aged concubine the whole time. She was already pregnant with Dotti, by then, so she went along with it. But after they moved to the States and he had built up a good income, she had cut the string.

The idea of a horse like John getting pussy on the sly was not offensive to Helene. Girls could be polygamous, too. Henri had awakened her to her basic, natural desires, and she had learned that just owning a cunt didn't mean a girl got fun out of it. She had even learned to masturbate proficiently, and even that took practice and know how.

"I'll bet I'm better than your average fuck, honey," Helene said.

He grinned and released her. John was smoother than silk and had had lots of experience. He removed his clothes almost casually, watching Helene do her own bedroom strip. Tits first-she took the blouse away slowly. Her bra was designed to lift and shape. Her nipples were bare. Having them stand out against the blouse fabric gave her added allure.

"Ummm," John smiled, a spot of color on each side of his throat. "Good boobs. I like those long nipples."

Helene giggled, left the bra in place, and unfastened her skirt. John's shirt came away. He got out of the trousers and shoes but left his socks on. A married man at home removes his socks, a lover leaves them on. His briefs were white and tight. The mountain inside them was almost scary.

After Dotti was born I had my vagina snugged by surgery, she remembered. Henri has only six inches, and my current halfway steady isn't well endowed. But God! This animal has a monster! My cunt is just streaming. Wendy is a very lucky little twat.

Her skirt dropped, and she stepped out of it, leaving her heels and nylons and panties. John grinned. Suddenly, the head of his cock swelled up past the band of his briefs. Helene felt a wave of dizziness. That glands, still untouched by a surgeon's knife, like Henri's, was three inches thick!

"You are built like a horse," she breathed. All that stuff about what a man did with his cock being more important than the size was pure shit. Even a few minutes of such a tool would be worth an hour of ordinary prick!

"Good body," he smiled, his blue eyes shiny. Something about wide-shouldered, blond men excited Helene. It was to be another conquest of Brittany by the Vikings. John's savage appeal hit her in the cunt like a hammer. One girl would never satisfy a stud like him.

"The bedroom's over here," she said, parading ahead of him.

John sniffed the delicate aroma of cunt, watching the twist of Helene's ass in the black mini-panties. Maybe he could muster up another big gush of semen.

The bedroom was as fluffily feminine as the rest of the place with its big round bed and a carpet deep enough to fuck on. Erotic water colors on the nearest wall showed two girls and one guy tangling and two chicks fucking.

"Your friend a lesbian?" John asked, steering Helene to the bed.

"She likes it both ways. A very wealthy widow. You interested?"

"My cock's in enough trouble already," he muttered. Forget Cindi! Some young guy'll come along and punch her cherry. She has to learn one way or another. I've got Wendy and Ellen-and now Helene.

Shuddering, Helene stretched back on the resilient bed, opened her legs, and watched John lower his briefs. How true her first glimpse had been! She had once seen such a cock in a dirty movie. Nine or ten inches of pure meat-but she had never dreamed she would get a shot at one. Her clit stiffened, and her nipples erected as if they were already being kissed.

"I envy young Wendy," Helene gurgled, undulating her ass. "If you two ever want a little three-some, you know who to call."