Jason Hyte - Sex kitten

A tiny fleck of frothy white foam appeared at the very tip of her tight-stretched cunt lips. Tannsy suddenly broke into a loud cry, arching her back and clapping both hands to her crotch as if she would hold it back by sheer brute force. "Oh, G-God, hon-ney-y," she wailed, "I can't wai-ait for you."

Lashing her superheating cunt up and down on her brother's big peg harder and harder, Tannsy worked more and more frantically for more and more speed and more and more grinding depth of penetration. The mind-blowing sounds began; Tannsy's involuntary throat swallowing, her deep and deeper moans of breath. Then the squishing sounds of her liquidating cunt squeezing hot girl juice around the full sizzling length of the long, curved truncheon that was stuffing it so full.

Clark strove like crazy for that benumbed stage where he could lie and watch that cock and cunt action as a totally mind-blowing scene but as an experience happening to somebody else like in a hot skin-flick. When Tannsy suddenly reared erect, her head thrown rigidly back and keening her typical little yipping screams, he still had complete control over the house organ, ready to carry on for this little brat sister for as long as she needed him.

Tannsy squatted in wild abandon on Clark's big cock, her tummy gurgling wildly. Her cunt glubbed, blurting masses of juice so heavily the cheeks of her ass grew shiny with it. The huge pole in her cunt came out glistening each time Tannsy raised herself. Her brother's belly and legs were smeared all over with it.

No longer able to raise herself, finally, Tannsy toppled lifelessly backwards, her legs doubling under like in the super-graceful finishing act of her best gymnastics routine. Her hips kept jerking in the aftermath of the miniature earthquake, her cunt kept clamping and unclamping around the big peg still holding it solidly on center to the man body beneath her.

It was in this position; Tannsy collapsed backwards atop him, Clark's hands caressing comfortingly from her quaking tummy up over the heaving swells of her breasts and back down, his super-swollen rod studded, still stiff and solid, into his sister's gaping cunt, that Clark could finally begin to relax. And to hear the sounds of labored breathing coming from the doorway to the garage which he had never thought to lock.

"Great time, Fletcher!" Coach Somers shouted happily, trotting around the end of the pool.

Clark did a quick scan of the electronic stop clocks mounted over each of the eight swimming lanes, seeing with an inner shrug that he had come in almost a full second ahead of anybody else on the team. So why not. They all had other things to do with their time besides swim. And swim and swim.

Coach fisted Clark on the arm, heartily man to man. "Beautiful time," he repeated. "You get that new stroke perfected, we'll make an Olympics candidate out of you yet. Get yourself a piece of chocolate and take five."

Karen Somers slithered by to join Coach who was grouping the rest of the team together to exhort them to as good lap times as the Superstar was now showing. As she passed behind him, her hand brushed across Clark's skintight trunks. The accidental caress sent a streak of lightning bouncing clear down to his heels and back and his eyes bouncing to Karen's own firm-cheeked bottom. Man, if he didn't close in on some cunt pretty soon they'd be hanging his balls up for trophies.

Karen Somers was one of the best-and highest paid-swimming coaches in the country, too, but with her entire girls' team away at their exclusive private school she was acting as her husband's assistant for the winter. And driving all the guys into fits gliding around inside that graceful supersnake body of hers. Talking and acting like one of their own, but being always innaccess-Why that goddam bitch! That touch on his ass couldn't have been accidental. Karen had been at least a foot away when she went past.

Clark cast a sudden new look at the long, sleek, woman-athlete body. Karen's second-skin tank suit was even tighter than his own but there was none of the roll of flesh squeezing from the legholes as there might be on other women in their late twenties. Her damn leg muscles were as solid as his own… And surely a hell of a lot prettier.

He traced the outline of Karen's solid behind into the curving of her narrow waist and then into the gentle wedge of her soft bare back and on up to her deeply suntanned shoulders. He noticed with a visible start that Karen had stopped walking and was half turned to face him. Then he felt his face burn painfully red as he realized that she had never taken her eyes off him as she walked away in the first place.

Before Clark could drop his own stare, Karen wrinkled her nose in a sly little sniff, subtly arching her colossal breasts… Knowing damn well how that stretchy nylon cuddled around each individual nipple even when they weren't in erection, one with the band of orange slashing down across her flat stomach to point out her smooth round hip, the other plain blue but just as gulp-making. She turned to walk on to the team but then stopped again, this time turning fully to face him.

"See you in the office a minute, please, Fletcher?" she said crisply.

Carefully sober-faced, Clark meekly followed the beautiful ass, again feeling the delicious stirring in his balls. Man, wouldn't it be some beautiful something to be fucking this sex-bodied broad again? Wouldn't it be some beautiful something to be fucking anybody again!

Karen seated herself behind the desk, motioning Clark to the asschewing chair directly across. She cast a glance through the block window to make sure everybody, including her husband, was still occupied and turned back to Clark.

"Okay," she said bluntly, "your swimming's been the greatest but what is it that's been bugging you personally all these months?"

"Hunh-h?? Nothing's been bugging me."

"Clarkie, you and I have been friends for a long time, wouldn't you say? Something more than friends, maybe?"

"Y-yeah."

"You don't have to be so cautious. I didn't bring you in here to scream of being the neglected mistress. I don't even remember that the first day of April was the last time you and I made out together."

Clark rolled his eyes, grinning with Karen. "Man-n," he leered, "I-I do."

"Yes-s, I'm sure you do-o. Particularly since it was early in June when we were down in Los Angeles. That must be so-ome great new girlfriend you've got this time to have you all strung out like you've been."

"Girlfriend!"

"Come on, Flet-cher! Two people can't be as emotionally involved-two people can't have f-fucked together as beautifully as you and I have fucked together without learning something about each other. I would guess, knowing you for the little sex maniac you've always been, that you've either gotten hung up on some little broad who isn't putting it out for you and you don't know what to do about it, or the two of you are making it and it's gotten to be too serious for you to handle."

Clark's eyes and mouth popped open. Karen's healthily handsome face again broke into her sardonic grin. "Sure, sweetie," she chuckled, "you'd be surprised at how much we old folks might understand even if we can't always come up with the right answers."

"…. 0-kay, teach, learn me all about it."

"No, baby, you tell old Mama. And be serious for a change. Sometimes it helps just to talk about it. You don't have to name any names if you don't want to. Who is she?"

Clark's eyebrows shot up. "Hey, you just said-Aah, you did that on purpose, too."

"I'm only jealous."

Karen giggled with him and, with that undercurrent of seriousness still there, it did open the door to let it all hang out… To someone who really might understand if anyone ever would. Without naming names.