Paula Cash - Closet Queen

He hugged her completely now, with a good angle, relishing the contact of his torso on her nude back. He had a complete armful of nubile girl, driving her to glory with back door sex.

They twisted and gasped and plunged for long minutes. Abby felt that she'd never been used in sex before as she was now. Her whole body felt moist, her tits drove her crazy, her empty cunt sweated joy juice, and her clit burned like a pulsating, hard diamond. Her body was total slave to his prick, with the region from her waist down a chaotic, delicious bed of volcanic action, as her pleasure and sex tension rose.

Her orgasm was totally different from any she'd had before. A throbbing spike of pure, ecstatic passion formed in her back thighs and buttocks and seemed to burst outwards, her young body locked and then she totally lost control of her functions.

"Ahhhhhh-my assssss!" she keened.

Her sphincter clutched the moving shaft of his cock with involuntary spasms. Her empty cunt throbbed, too, and that felt good. What really whipped her to the heights was trying to get control of her wild, uncontrollable sphincter. As she squeezed down, the luscious quakes defeated her. She kept squeezing and losing control to the insistent prick and it was a long, majestic orgasm, compared to her others. She gurgled, sweated and drooled, and kept on gushing and gushing.

"Ah, oh, ah, oh, ah, oh-I'm so taaaaaaken," she squealed.

John had never felt so virile as in his complete mastery of the girl's body through her asshole. As she squirmed and squealed helplessly under him, her body lost to his prick power, he felt the sweet, sudden rush of his own orgasm. He was almost reluctant to give in to it, but he wanted the surging joy.

"Oh, Abby, now!" was all he said.

Then he, too, went stiff and began to fill her rectum with rich, body-hot spurts of male supremacy, planting his sperm deep in the body of the possessed female. Shot after shot of hot cream boiled into her ass as she tapered off her orgasm and quivered to take this new liquid invasion. He held her tight and worked off every drop of white-hot spend that the excitement of her cornhole had worked up.

Afterwards, in sheer pleasure, they lay locked, he stroking her moist flesh. He knew with growing wonder he loved this girl and would get to possess her ass all night long… for as long as his prick would stay hard.

Professor Richardson Foster blanched when he opened the door of his big campus home and saw on his doorstep the young blonde coed that he'd had sex with earlier in the Lab.

"I want to see your wife," said Cheryl. "I've got to see Mrs. Lisbeth Foster.”

"Oh, oh, no, young lady. That's impossible," the frightened man cried. No doubt the young lady meant to blow the whistle on him.

For a few confused moments Cheryl didn't understand what was going on in his head. She concentrated totally on getting the figurine, and she had no thought of protesting Foster's sex use of her earlier. Just the same, she stood there shocked. In all of the excitement of the chase it hadn't occurred to her that Lisbeth Foster would turn out to be the wife of the very same professor whose cock she'd sucked.

Harold came out of the gloom to set things right.

"We have to see Mrs. Foster about a piece of sculpture I gave her today," he explained. Foster still blocked the door.

"My wife's having one of her bad headaches. You can't see her tonight.”

For once in his life, Harold rose to the occasion. Maybe it was his liking for Cheryl and what she and Abby had done for him.

"That's also why we came," said Harold smoothly. "I mean, I want to talk about the sculpture. Cheryl here-she's a Swedish masseuse. She's an expert on bad backs. When Mrs. Foster complained today, I knew I had to dig up someone for her."

She shot Harold a startled look and Foster said: "Is that true, young lady? You're a massager."

Anything to get into the house. "Yessir," she said. "I learned Swedish massage in New York. My father's a widower and he has lots of trouble with his back, so I learned.”

Foster hesitated, so Cheryl pushed past him into the house. She beckoned to Harold.

"Harold, maybe you'd better go see Mrs. Foster and let her know I'm here.”

She wanted a word with the professor in private, and hoped Harold could go get the statuette without her having to fake some dumb massage scene.

Harold continued to track nicely.

"Sure. Is she in the upstairs bedroom, Professor?"

Foster nodded cautiously. He trusted Harold. He liked Harold, who helped Lisbeth with her campus art activities and kept an over-energetic wife happy. Furthermore, it was preposterous to think of Harold as having carnal designs on Lisbeth or anyone else. Harold went off happily upstairs.

Cheryl felt the professor study her guardedly. There she was in her cut-off jeans, boots and cape. She could see his male hormones begin to tingle with all that bare thigh showing.

"Well, if you can be discreet about what goes on in the Chem Lab," he said, "there's no reason why… " He let it drift off.

She continued the role Harold had given her. "I just want my twenty bucks for the massage," she said. "I need the money.”

"I didn't realize… Spider never told me-”

"Young guys don't need massages. Your Swedish type is very straight, no hanky-pank.”

He put an arm around her and escorted her to the hallway.

"You can wait in my study, Cheryl. Uh, maybe you can earn forty bucks. I could use a massage myself. After you do the other, that is.”

His thigh had bumped hers and his arm about her waist pulled her close.

"One thing at a time," she breathed.

She had no desire to get further involved with Foster. But he, feeling safe, now appeared delighted by her visit. His arm moved under the cape. More squeezes.

"I like you very much, Cheryl. You were a real good sport with Spider today. I have certain influence on this campus and I can probably help you in a number of ways.”

She pulled free of him. "I'll keep it in mind."

His lust was up. Again his hand went under her cape and he squeezed her ass.

"Come on, Cheryl. It's not like we are strangers. I love the kind of things you do.”

The rest of the interview consisted of the professor chasing her around his study in restrained pursuit. She didn't want to make him mad and he didn't want her to get upset and stalk out. At last Harold returned. His eyes looked miserable.

"She didn't want to talk about the Doris Miller," he said crest-fallen. "She wants the massage, though. Her back is killing her.”

Cheryl felt her heart jump. He'd tossed the ball to her. Common sense told her to give up, but her compulsive drive to get hold of Salt drove her.

"So let's go upstairs.”

"Be sure and see me on the way out," Foster called after them as she quickly took Harold's hand and guided him out of the study…

As they climbed the stairs, he said: “What happens now?”

"We'll fake the massage," she hissed. "We'll steal it, that's all. Is it in the house. Do you know where?”

"Yeah," he said. "She stacks all the stuff in a bedroom they don't use since their kids grew up. It's probably in there, just down the hall from her bedroom.”

"Good. I'll start and you stay around I'll go for a toilet break or something and grab it. Or maybe it's better if you grab it while I work her over.”

"No, no!" squeaked Harold. "I couldn't do that. You grab it while I keep her talking. Then she won't blame me.

Men! she thought. Weaklings, when it came time to protect their interests…

Actually the massage was fun. Cheryl began to get into the spirit of it, once she got Lisbeth Foster on the bed, naked, with a towel across her hips. Deft questions assured Cheryl that Lisbeth knew nothing about Swedish massage. The woman had an older face and gray-streaked hair, but below her shoulders she had a terrific figure. She took good care of herself. Her skin was smooth, pliable, the muscles soft and sexy. She had pretty good breasts, a nice behind, and great legs and thighs. In spite of herself, Cheryl felt her cunt warm as she worked on the nude woman. Ever since giving in to her leech of girl sex with Abby, Cheryl felt able to touch and appreciate other feminine flesh. The professor was crazy to want to play around behind this woman's back. But it added to the sexiness of this situation to realize she'd pulled the plug of the cock that normally got off in Lisbeth's cunt. If the woman only knew.