Carlotta Graham: The lap dog

They giggled all the way up the walk from the garage to the front door, leaning on one another and staggering a little. Then both quieted down as they stood before the door, faced with the problem of opening it and not quite remembering how. The man fumbled in his pocket for awhile and then fished out a key. For several seconds he tried to fit it into the lock, finally swearing good-naturedly: "If the damn hole had hair around it, wham, just like that!"

"Oh, Jack, don't say such things," the young woman giggled, looking around nervously. "The neighbors might hear."

"Fuck the neighbors," the man answered in a slightly slurred voice. All at once the key slid in the lock and he opened the door, starting inside, but then he halted and, giving an exaggerated bow, spoke grandly to his female companion.

"Would the lady care to enter?" he said with a little hiccup. And the lady did enter, sweeping majestically into the house, her entry marred only when she tripped a little on the doorsill. The man followed her in and shut the door.

"Oh, Christ, what a party," he said, collapsing into a chair.

"Yes, and I hope you don't remember a thing tomorrow. Do you know what you did? You were dancing on your knees on that funny old table with a lampshade…"

"Enough!" Jack ordered. "We got better things to do than talk about parties that've already happened. C'mere, wench." He reached his arms up commandingly, but the woman pirouetted coquettishly just out of his reach, pretending shyness. She was young, in her early twenties, of average height – but beyond that, there wasn't anything else average about her. Long heavy blonde hair cascaded down to frame a truly lovely fine-boned face, highlighted by a pair of huge blue eyes set like Alpine lakes against her creamy rose-tinted complexion. While her dress was cut fairly modestly, neither too low in the front nor too short, it could not entirely hide the lush ripe body underneath. Although she was a blonde, she was not a frosty blonde, but rather a warm soft combination of golds and rich creams and tender yellow rose petals. All in all she was a very desirable young woman, and the man called Jack was obviously aware of it, as he should have been. They were married – Jack and Angela Sims.

"Ah-ha, going to play hard to get," Jack teased, jumping up from the chair. For an instant he staggered and almost fell backward but, quickly regaining his balance, the obviously tipsy young man took out after his wife as she ran squealing and laughing toward the bedroom. Cornered near the bed, the lovely young blonde turned at bay, holding up her hands protectingly.

"Oh, please, sir, I beg of you, don't ravish an innocent young girl," she begged in a high falsetto.

"You're out of luck, baby. You'll never walk out of here a virgin," the man growled in mock threat. Reaching out, he circled the young beauty with his arms and pressed her violently to him. As their lips met, all pretense faded and they melted together in a long passionate kiss.

"Oh, Jack," Angela breathed, "do that again." She drew in her breath sharply as her husband's right hand slipped up under her dress, sliding for a moment over her satiny thighs, moving insistently up toward the soft curl-covered "vee" above. For a moment her legs clamped tightly together, not to protect her modesty, but in unconscious reaction to the burning power of his touch.

"Oh, Jack," she breathed again, and her body seemed to go limp against his. Without a word he reached around behind her back and unzipped her dress. Reaching down he began to draw the dress upward, baring his wife's firm graceful thighs as the dress snaked up over her body. He had a moment's trouble working the material up over the voluptuous swell of her breasts, but she helped, raising her arms obediently, and a moment later the dress was off and her hair settled back down over her shoulders in a golden cloud. The young beauty was left wearing only her lacy brassiere, white bikini panties and pantyhose. The brassiere went next.

Once again the young man reached behind his willing captive, unsnapping her brassiere and then pulling it impatiently forward, down over her arms, letting free the firmly rounded breasts which quivered a little as the girl's body swayed from her husband's rough handling. The young man stared hungrily down at the perfect full mounds of soft cream-white flesh, noticing that the cooler air in the room was already making the pale pink nipples harden involuntarily. With a stifled groan, the young husband bent a little lower and buried his head between the resilient roundness, then began to eagerly slide his wet lips over the hard berry-like little tips, nipping lightly with his teeth.

"Aaah," his wife moaned in helpless pleasure, letting her hands move up his strong muscular back to work lovingly into his thick brown hair, pressing him even more tightly against her sensitively palpitating breasts. Jack then slid slowly down to his knees, never letting his lips leave his wife's naked flesh, until finally his neck was bent upward at a sharp angle. Hooking his fingers in the narrow elastic band that girdled his wife's hips, he pulled down, slowly working her panties and pantyhose together down over her richly flaring hips, pausing a moment as her thighs began to be bared, to reach up and lightly caress with his fingertips the sparse golden down up between them.

The young wife had already kicked off her shoes, and in sudden impatience Jack pulled down hard on the material in his hands, wanting to get the disrobing over with.

"Watch out," Angela said. "Don't tear them."

"The hell with that," Jack answered, his voice hoarse with passion, "I'll buy you another pair. Dozens." Without saying another word the excited young man buried his burning lips into the smooth flesh just below his wife's navel, causing her stomach muscles to suck in from the sudden shock of his touch. The young woman swayed for a moment above her husband, her fingers tangling reflexively in his hair, half in defense, half in delight, as the young man's hotly working lips slid lower and lower over her belly, finally nibbling at the top of her softly curled pussy hair.

"D-Do you think we should make love after drinking so much?" she asked shakily, almost as if she hoped he wouldn't answer, and he didn't, only slid his hands around to seize her by the hips, his thumbs digging into her tender belly. For a long moment the young wife stood in indecision. She knew what her husband seemed about to do. He was going to lick her down there between the legs! Never in her young life had this been done to her before, and some part of her mind warned her that it was wrong, depraved. All her training told her to pull Jack's head away from her this instant, but at the same time a hot flush of passion swept over her body, partly fueled perhaps by the alcohol that boiled through her system, but she didn't care. She stood still in trembling anticipation as her husband's lewdly questing lips slid lower into her vaginal hair, reaching at last the top of her anxiously quivering cuntal slit…

"Damn!" he exclaimed suddenly, pulling his mouth away. "I've got to get out of my clothes before I lose my mind." Lurching to his feet, the frenzied young man began tearing desperately at his clothes, leaving his wife standing alone and naked, disappointment and relief playing games within her head. The anticipatory tingling high up between her thighs quickly changed to belly-twisting frustration.

To get her mind off what she considered obscene and unnatural thoughts, the naked young Goddess fastened her attention on her husband as he quickly shed his clothes, appreciating for the hundredth time his strong chest as it was quickly bared before her. He was a lot taller than she – six feet to her five feet five, but she liked the way she was able to nestle into his arms, and remembered that when they were both naked his penis dug deliciously into her belly, igniting hungers there so strong that they made her a little ashamed. Jack was fumbling with his trousers now, and finally ripped them down over his legs, kicking them unceremoniously into a comer, then stood up to face her, wearing only his shorts. Angela could see that his penis was already hard, pushing the material out from his loins like the white beak of some strange bird. Finally, looking his wife straight in the eye, Jack pulled his shorts down, his rigidly erect penis springing free, bouncing gently in front of her fascinated gaze. The young wife blushed at her own boldness and looked quickly away.