Duncan Fox - Deep throat wife

Karen bit her lips, acknowledging the truth of that. "But, I want to do it when I want, with who I want, because I want to. I don't want to have it extorted from me."

"Admirable," Paul told her. "What does Mr. Calder think of all this?"

Karen felt her insides congeal at the mention of Mark. "He doesn't know a thing about it," she answered truthfully.

She didn't notice that Paul had his mouth open and was about to say something. She slipped out the door, eager for her appointment with the technical director. She picked her way through the back corridors until she located the show's set. She ducked behind the big drops, stepping cautiously over the maze of wires for the elaborate light show.

He was waiting for her near the back of the wheel of fortune. She noticed that the wheel was mounted on a sturdy steel frame, and that there was a flywheel to counterbalance it. She also noticed that the flywheel was marked so someone backstage could tell when and where to stop the wheel. Even the wheel was rigged.

"Mrs. Calder?" the technical director greeted her cautiously.

"Is there somewhere we can talk?" she asked nervously. A stagehand was eyeing them curiously.

"This way." The technical director led the way through the maze to a storage room and closed the door behind them. Racked around the walls were coils of cable, spare lights and frames, and countless small wires and tools.

"Now, what's so mysterious?" he asked. "Jamie said this appeared to be very important to you?"

"And that it's a secret."

"How much trouble would you have finding another job?" she asked.

"Not much. I've had offers."

"You don't seem to like the bosses on this show very much," she went on, feeling the man out.

"Bastards," he grunted.

She felt a surge of sympathy and desire for the man. "With your help, I'll bring them down," she offered.

"But it might cost me my job," he stated, not concerned, just wanting to get the facts.

"It might," she agreed.

"What do you want me to do?"

She took a deep breath. "I want you to keep at least one camera on after the show is over. I want you to videotape everything that happens, but I don't want Bernstein or any of his crowd to know until after you've slipped me the videotape."

"You're going to blackmail them," the technical director assumed.

"I'm not going to do anything to them that they haven't already done to me and a lot of others. But, if Sandier and Bernstein are humbled, she'll fall, too."

"She's an iceberg," the technical director said. "She's the frigid temptress, the woman who never comes. Show her as the wanton bitch she is and it'll destroy her."

"That leaves the damned sponsor's representative. And Bernstein himself, of course."

"If you're offering it down on the stage, that ad man won't hang around the control room for more than about ten seconds," the technical director said sourly.

"They say that the ad game involves a lot of ass-kissing," Karen mused. "Why don't we see how good he really is at it?"

"You're crazy, aren't you?"

Karen didn't answer that. "Bernstein," she mused, "now what about Bernstein?"

"Only thing he likes more than his show and women are those stinking cigars of his."

Karen smiled slowly. "Well then, I guess I'll let him have one of his cigars."

The technical director looked puzzled, but didn't say anything. "I'll need to have a man down in videotape," he pointed out.

"Can you find someone?" she asked.

He shrugged. "There's one I think I can trust. But he'll need some inducement."

"Will he keep a bargain, once he's made it?" Karen asked.

"I think so."

"Get him up here then," Karen ordered with a calmness she didn't feel.

After he was off the telephone, Karen eased up to him and pressed her warm, soft body against his, and began playing with his belt. She was hotter than ever.

"Hey, you don't need to do it with me," the man told her.

"I want to," she assured him. "Besides, you're going to be in the control room. All you'll be able to do is watch. It's only fair that you get your piece of the community snatch, too." She had his prick out. His trousers had settled around his ankles. Looking down at his lovely hard-on, Karen stroked the hot meat tenderly.

"Yeah, what did you want?" a videotape man asked, entering the storeroom without any warning. "Sonofabitch!"

"We need your help," Karen answered as she advanced on the youth. She was pleased he was young, and handsome. The technical director explained what he wanted, while the newcomer stared at the technical director's hard-on.

"I don't like those guys either," the youth stammered. "But I don't know about this."

Karen began unbuttoning her blouse. "Wouldn't you like to at lent see what they're all excited about?" she asked. She shed her blouse, and the youth's eyes got as big as saucers when he saw her tits. A flick at the button and zipper, and her skirt was off, and she was naked. She eased up to the boy. She lifted and fondled her titties.

"Say you'll do it," she whispered. "Promise you'll do it, and I'm yours for the taking."

The youth's Adam's apple bobbed up and down. His eyes raked over her naked body. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. "Honest?" he squeaked.

Karen rubbed her hand up and down his crotch, felt the hard mass of his pecker. She guided one of his hands to her generous boobs. "Honest," she assured him. "Right here, and right now." She unbuttoned his shirt.

"Okay," he wheezed as she undid his pants. "I'll do it, I promise."

She wrapped her hand around his throbbing prick and pumped his meat like they were shaking hands on the deal. Then, slowly, she sank to her knees in front of him. She drew his throbbing pecker into her mouth, and began sucking on it with loving care. Moving her head back and forth, she sucked his dong until she tasted hot seepings.

"We don't have too much time," she purred. "Why don't you lie down on your back and let me do all the work?"

Eagerly, the youth eased down and stretched out on his back on the floor. He watched her straddle him. Her snatch parted as she placed her knees on either side of him. His hands came up and grabbed the full, swaying masses of her titties.

She had a feeling of power as she aimed his prick up into her cunt. She was in control of this. She would control how deep he drilled her, how fast his prick moved in her pussy.

She nuzzled the tip of his hard-on between her cunt lips, and eased down tentatively. She felt his prick squirm into her cunt. She eased down a little more, and felt his tower drill slowly up into her twat. She was deliberately tormenting him, and herself, with the slowness of the skewering.

She felt his hips heaving, and tried to hold him off. She pressed down, drove his cock up into her cunt.

"Aww shit!" he swore miserably as his cock began to pulse in her twat.

Karen realized she had misjudged badly, but it was too late. His cock leaped and twisted in her hot hole, and she felt his jism jump into her, in sealing spurts. She felt his cream pushing back out around his erupting dick. It spilled from her barely aroused cunt, forming a sticky pool between them.

"Noooo," she moaned, shivering. She was only halfway up the mountain. She writhed and twisted in a desperate attempt to bring herself off. She failed. She felt the cock in her snatch give a final heave, felt his last hot wave of come ooze out around his shriveling dick. She slumped, miserable and frustrated.

"I'm sorry," the boy cried, almost in tears. "It-it was all my fault, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Karen realized suddenly that, while he would never admit it, it had been the youngster's first time. She felt a surge of sympathy for him. Leaning forward, she lay down on him. She felt come smear between their bellies. It felt slippery and gooey. She snuggled him tenderly. Her boobs were like soft pillows between them. His withered dick was still in her cunt.