Pauline Nottee - Action backstage

The only thing to do, she told herself, is to play it lightly. Shove your arousal into the background, and try to be sort of a big sister, you know, like casual. He has' girls… he must have more girls than any teenage kid would need.

"Come on," she said, forming a lightness in her voice. "I hope you know how to make a salad. Everything else is working, but I can't even cut a common tomato."

"Salad," Rick said, not letting go of her hand as she led the way to the kitchen. "I can cook Danish, Miss Candy!"

"Just plain-Candy!" she corrected.

On the stove and in the oven the various components of the meal were cooking on schedule. She popped a loaf of French bread split and slathered with garlic butter, into the oven. Candy was amazed at the way the boy set about making the salad, and then searching through cabinets, to find the proper plates and bowls. It was like he had worked in the kitchen for years. The thick T-bone steaks went under the broiler and came out in five minutes, blood-rare.

With soft music filling the room, they ate, almost in silence, talking only with their eyes. Candy Mullender felt the mounting pressure, the pure, carnal physical need, and she tried to fight it.

But the light talk that might have diverted her lewd desires escaped her. Rick Benton was so young, so slender, so handsome-so beautiful in every way. And his eyes could not stay away from her. He could not understand how this was happening, that this beautiful, dark-haired chick would be sending out such vibrations, but his Scandinavian blood told him it was happening. Something beyond belief for a farm boy from the midwest. And he knew her, knew her well from having been around her for months. This was no hot-pants pig… this was a lovely woman who did not give herself without reason. And what reason could she possibly have to give herself to him?

It was beyond all comprehension. He only knew he had to have her. And as a man, not as a boy. Never in his life had Rick Benton had such a meal, and in such a situation! The most beautiful, most desired woman in America feeding him bites of steak which must have cost five dollars a pound! Everything prepared by her own hands, except his poor salad. Her deep, huge violet eyes melting when they fastened on his face. God!

And springing up to bring coffee and flaky chocolate cake so light it was like feathers in the mouth, and reaching out to touch him. Nobody would believe, out in his neighborhood.

The last morsels of steak had been consumed, the last cream-dappled bits of cake eaten, and the coffee pot was empty. For a time they sat, side by side, but not touching except for their hands. Candy could feel her hand shaking in his, and the dampness of his palm. She knew what was going to happen, although they had not spoken a word for nearly half an hour before Rick Benton cleared his throat.

"This is a beautiful house," he said. "I would like to see all of it."

"It's just another house," Candy managed to say. "But come."

She led him through it, subconsciously saving her big bedroom for the last. He exclaimed over the heavy-beamed old English ceilings and the fireplaces and paintings and the vastness of the rooms. His entire family lived in an area smaller than one of the guest bedrooms, he told her in awe. From the terrace, they could see the city lights twinkling far below, and the cars and trucks speeding past on the Interstate Highway. Candy's footsteps slowed as she showed him to the third level, where her bedroom rose like a tower. The lighting was a soft, pale amber.

"And this is… the end of the tour," she whispered, not daring to look directly at him. She stepped backward until she was at the wide glass doors that opened onto the terrace, conscious of what she must look like to him, with her long raven-black hair tumbling over her shoulders, her eyes smoldering dark in her face, her body almost naked under the thin micro-sheath that was cut off just below the rich curve of her ass-cheeks, with unfettered tits thrusting tantalizing, nipples hard and long.

Rick Benton looked at her, and he knew now she was his to do anything with. She might be a beautiful woman, the sex goddess of teenagers, a woman with looks that would make her first million this year. But right now, she was his! He could do anything he wanted to her! He could tell her to get down on her knees and take his hot cock in her hands and pump it and then put it in her beautiful mouth and suck on it until he spilled the hot load of cum from his aching balls down her throat-and she would do it!

Why she would do it, he didn't know. But he knew women. He had seen the same feral expression on some hundreds of faces, and a woman is a woman-and he knew Candy, whom he had worshipped, was no different from all the rest. She wanted him to fuck her!

Well, he would fuck her. He would fuck her until she screamed for him to stop! Ram his cock into her pale flesh until she begged for mercy. Make her know what a man he was!

He would drive her wild! And yet, beautiful as she was, kind to him as she had been, she had a right to her pleasure. It was something for them to work out together… the better he was for Candy, the better she would be for him. Panting, he felt his palms grow damp in anticipation. He read in her eyes the sure knowledge of what was going to happen, and her acceptance of it. There was a corner fireplace, and as he watched, she went to it, took a match from a holder on the mantle, snapped it into flame and bent to light the tinder under logs which were ready.

As she bent over the fireplace, her short skirt rode up the smooth-fleshed columns of her thighs, baring the soft roundness of her taut ass-cheeks. He could see the tight-clenching division of her ass-cheeks, and even the tufts of dark-ebony hair fringing her cunt through the sheer panties she word. The flames leapt to life and an orange glow filled the big bedroom as she slowly straightened and turned toward him. She stood motionless, except for the rhythmic rise and fall of her full-sculpted tits, with the hard, sharp points of the nipples pressing against the thin material of her dress. Her full sensuous lips glistened and her tongue-tip flicked nervously across them.

Damn! She knows she's gonna get it! the farm boy exulted. Oh, Candy, are you gonna get it! All the cock I can ram up that tight little cunt! I'm gonna fuck you out of your head!

Inside his tight pants, his young boy-cock was throbbing with need, and a hunger so great that it pained him. He had to get it into her! Skewer her, impale her on his long male hardness turn her on! He wondered if she'd ever been really turned on by fucking, and with his instinct thought probably not-because Candy didn't fuck around. In his job, he knew what was going down anyplace, any time, and he knew Candy didn't spread it around. Not that she could ever be cherry-hell, she was too old-but nobody was regularly banging her, of that he was sure. Rick had the idea that maybe something had happened with Lee earlier in the day, the way Lee had gone hauling ass, and Candy had seemed like her head was fucked up when she left the studio, but on the other hand, that could have been due to a lot of things.

Whatever had happened, she needed a fuck now.

The blue dress was fashioned of raw silk from Ceylon. It was held together down the front by not buttons or zipper but studs, similar to a man's cufflinks, fashioned from the finest jade set in platinum-another touch decreed by Jason Wells at the agency.

Candy Mullender watched the fair-skinned boy move sinuously toward her. His pale eyes captivated her, as the eyes of a snake might freeze a bird. She could feel her heart pounding. She saw the rigid, long outline of his young cock straining against the front of his pants, the dark spot of preseminal fluid, and the thick bulge of his balls cramped into the fabric. She wanted to cry out, to run away-and she could not move. She knew that this virile young farm boy could do anything he wanted with her or to her, and she would be helpless to resist.