Norma Egan - Virgin in heat

She found the costly decor of his penthouse dazzling. She couldn't even begin to guess how much money had gone into it. Art made them drinks from a built-in bar, and they sat together on the couch, admiring the sweeping view of New York City at night.

"Feeling better?" Art asked.

"Not much," Wendy sighed. "Tomorrow I have to go back to Oakdale. I have a job as a waitress. That's not very exciting."

Art chuckled and reached for her hand. "My dear," he said, "you can stay right here in New York and make all the money you want. All you have to do is keep a lonely old man company."

"Company?" Wendy said.

"Like tonight, for instance," Art said. "If you'll stay with me, Wendy, I'll give you two hundred dollars."

Wendy's head reeled. Two hundred dollars for one fuck? It seemed incredible. But she could certainly use the money. Her wardrobe for the various contests had cost her every penny of her savings. In fact she didn't even have the price of a bus ticket home. Art hardly turned her on – he was old enough to be her grandfather – but Wendy didn't hesitate to accept his proposition.

"All right, Art," she said, "we can give it a try, at least for tonight."

"Excellent," he said with a big grin. "I've had my eye on you for so long, Wendy. I've wanted you so much. Please, could we begin by just taking off your clothes? I'd love to see all of you."

"Of course, Art," Wendy purred.

She was naturally flattered by the old man's adoration, and she'd lost her modesty long ago. She didn't hesitate to get to her feet and open the long zipper of her clinging black evening gown. As she was taking off her dress, Art took some bills from his wallet and tucked them into her purse. Wendy grinned and let her dress waft to the floor.

She stood still in front of the beaming old man, wearing just her black lace bra and panties and high heels. Art devoured her with his little twinkling blue eyes, his gaze running up and down her tall young body. Wendy felt a naughty little thrill. She loved to show off her spectacular figure.

Then she reached around to unhook her bra. Art came to the edge of his seat, his martini forgotten. He focused hotly on her thrusting tits as she unhooked her bra and tossed the flimsy little garment aside. Her big melon-shaped boobs wobbled out of their tight confinement, dainty light brown nipples dancing.

"Exquisite," Art sighed. "I don't usually care for large breasts, but yours are somehow so delicate. Please go [missing text]."

Wendy stepped out of her high heels – an act which still left her four inches taller than Art – and then began to inch down her panties. She turned her back to Art and slipped the panties down over the cute little globes of her ass. She let him admire her pert little butt for awhile before she turned and faced him again.

Art was a little flushed in the face, and his eyes were gleaming lustily as Wendy inched the flimsy panties down over the little glossy brown triangle of her muff. She let the garment slither down her long lovely legs, then kicked it out of the way and stood stark naked before the excited old millionaire.

"Beautiful," he said hoarsely, "absolutely beautiful. I can't understand why you didn't win that contest."

"Please, Art," Wendy said sadly, "let's not talk about that. I'd rather put it behind me."

"Of course, how inconsiderate of me," Art said. "Why don't you do a little dance for me, dear? I've noticed what a fine dancer you are."

That was bullshit, of course. She was hardly an expert dancer. But Art's idea appealed to her. It might take her mind off her troubles. Soft stereo music was playing in the background, and Wendy began to dance to it, her lovely tall slim body curving and swaying. Art took a big gulp of his drink and once again sat on the edge of the couch.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he sighed.

Wendy now had him pegged as a bullshit artist, but she loved the flattery nevertheless. It encouraged her to make her dance much more sexy than she ever had for the beauty contests. She swooped and swayed in front of the old man, her big breasts bouncing and wobbling. She ducked and bent, giving him quick tantalizing glimpses of her ripe red pussy.

Of course she knew she'd have to go to bed with him soon, but that didn't turn her on, and she could do it again – especially for two hundred dollars. So it didn't matter if she was getting the old dude unbearably aroused. She danced directly in front of him, bent back, and wantonly displayed her scarlet moist slit.

"Stop," Art sighed. "Just hold that position, please."

Wendy stood still, poised just a foot from him, her long legs spread wide, her body arched slightly back. Art perched on the edge of his seat and slipped his hands around her firm little ass-globes. He drew her forward a little, till her fragrant soft bush touched his face. He nuzzled and kissed in her little brown curl patch, his hot moist breath fanning her pussy.

Again Wendy felt a wicked little thrill. She loved to be admired by men. If she couldn't be a beauty queen, perhaps she could do as Art suggested, sell herself to lonely old guys who would not only pay her big money but would give her the adoration she craved.

But she couldn't think about that now. Her job was to please Arthur Williams, aging millionaire, for one night. She made soft little purring noises of contentment as the white-haired old man kissed down through her curly bush and pressed his lips to the hot red lump of her clit.

"I want you," he said in a muffled voice. "I want to eat you. Every bit of you."

Wendy felt a sudden spurt of hot juice from her pussy. The old guy was outrageously flattering, but he was also turning her on like crazy. It wasn't just his words, either. Now she felt his hot slick tongue-tip teasing the sensitive button of her clit, and it felt delicious. He flicked his tongue briskly back and forth over the horny little bud.

"Ooooooo, Art," Wendy squealed, "that feels so good."

Art responded to the compliment by licking even faster and harder on her responsive little joy button, and Wendy had to seize his shoulders to keep her balance as dizzying pleasure washed over her. She was sure Art had dozens of servants, but he obviously didn't let anybody else do his pussy-eating for him. He knew just what he was doing, and he did it perfectly.

"Lovely," he sighed. "You taste delicious. I'm going to eat your whole pussy, my dears and I'm going to take my time."

That was the best news Wendy had heard all day. There was nothing she liked better than to have her pussy slowly and deliciously tongued and kissed. Just thinking about it made her aroused cunt gush another blast of hot cream, and the sticky stuff trickled down her inner thighs. Art dived for it, lapping up every drop from her hot silky skin.

"Oh, God," Wendy gasped.

Suddenly, deftly, Art seized her and flipped her over onto the couch. Wendy was amazed at the little man's strength. She landed on her back, and before she could even catch her breath, Art had draped one of her long legs up over the back of the couch and eased her other leg over the edge, fully exposing her steamy hair-fringed gash.

"This will make my work a lot easier," he grinned.

Wendy grinned back. She certainly didn't mind lying down on the job. Art knelt between her legs and dived for her snatch again, and then Wendy felt a hot blast of pleasure that made her moan hoarsely. Art was keeping his promise, licking her whole pussy, right from the hot erect button of her clit down to the little light-brown wrinkled mouth of her asshole.

"Ohhhhhhh, yes," Wendy moaned.

Art obviously enjoyed what he was doing. He made loud snuffling and slurping noises as he happily rooted in her red-hot pussy, and his thirsty tongue seemed to be everywhere at once, lapping up her gushing cunt-cream. It was the best head job Wendy had ever had, and she gave herself up to it completely, moaning steadily, enjoying every second.