Ann Griffin - Skin summer

"What?" he asked.

She kissed his lips tenderly.

"What?" he repeated.

"Don't ever let me down."

"I won't."

"I couldn't bear that."

"I promise. Look, the old Sam Walker makes the new Sam Walker sick. Besides, now that I've been able to open up, just a little, to people, I don't want to go back to being like I was. There are easier, better ways to make money."

She kissed him again.

Long this time.

Lots of tongue.

And her hands on him.

Moving down him.

Searching and finding the iron of his organ beneath his pants.

"Now?" she asked.

"If you want."

"I do."

He kissed her.

"Do you?" She asked.

He was fevered with the smell and taste and feel of her. "What?" he asked.

"Do you want me now?"

For answer, he worked loose the buttons on her green blouse, reached under it and unzipped her bra, grabbed her breasts and kneaded them. They were fiery in his hands. The nipples, hard and pointed, burned his palms especially. He helped her out of the blouse and waited while she shucked the bra down her arms. When her breasts were free, he grabbed them again, cuddled them, loved and kissed them.

"You too," she whispered.

She helped him off with his tee shirt, pressed her heavy knockers against his chest. The nipples bored into him, made him want her more than ever, want to lose himself in her, in the sweet ecstatic aura she radiated for feet about her.

He found the zipper to her shorts, got her out of them. She was wearing no panties. When she pulled off his jeans and found that he wore none either, she laughed. He went to the floor with her, laid beside her, feeling her tremendous body with quick, gentle hands, loving the curves and mounds, the great, animal heat she threw off. He pressed his prick against her hip and slowly rode it up and down against her silky flesh. He went on top of her, on his knees, one to either side, and took handful of her breasts. She reached out, in turn, and clutched the straining cock that thrust from between his hips, masturbated him while he massaged her flesh.

"Big," she said, cooing over his tool.

"You're able to swallow it all," he said.

She giggled.

He moved down, pulling his prick out of her hands, kissing her heaving breasts, chewing the nipples until they vibrated in his lips. He went on to her belly, kissed and licked it. There was a fine golden down there that he had not noticed before. He licked it until it was plastered down and a few shades darker. He took a tuft of her pubic hair between his teeth, teased it.

She had raised her head, watching him. "You look like you have a beard," she giggled.

"I'll have a mustache in a minute," he said, burrowing his head between her creamy, sexy thighs, parting her pussy labes with his tongue and licking the button of her clit.

"Ungghhh. Oh!" she writhed. "Eat me, darling. Suck me."

He worked harder, faster, devouring her alive until she burst, leaped, gurgled in her throat and called him her lover, her cuntlicker, her baby.

He moved up, then, between her legs. There was no time for Vaseline. He could wait no longer to be buried in her. He spat on his hand, wet his prick, and sliced into her holy box with a savage but wonderful plunge.

"God, you've got a helluva box!" he gasped, stroking, twisting back and forth from one side of her gorgeous, soup tunnel to the other. His hands moved on her breasts, and he nestled in them while he fucked. He sucked the nipples, blubbered in the moons of warmth. "And lovely, lovely tits. Big, yet really well-formed. I could come on your tits. Just having it lay on your beautiful tits."

She moaned in reply, ground her cunny against him. "I love you," she said. "Fuck me, darling. Fuck and fuck and fuck me until… we can't… move."

"Until our parts freeze up?" he asked, grinning.

"Until we rust!"

He plunged, sucking in his breath at the tremendous sensations of her love well. After a few moments, he said, "You want the top?"

"Yes," she said. "That would be nice."

"Let's roll then. Keep him in as we go over."

"Yes. Keep him in," she said.

They rolled together, keeping the stiff prick inside her, until he laid on the floor and she rode above him. From this vantage point her tits were an awesome sight. They look twice as large from beneath, jutting out over him, the nipples huge, made to be bitten and chewed and loved. He raised his head and took one into his mouth. While he brought it even further erect, she ground her cunt against the lance of his dick, clutching at his shoulders.

"It fills me up," she said. "There's no room in there at all."

"Well," he said, loving the slickness against his rod, "I don't have anything else to put in, so we don't have to worry about the lack of space."

She ground faster while he pressed hard on the deep erogenous centers in her fabulous ass. Then she was coming, blubbering, almost crying, calling his name over and over again as if in pain. And it was pain of a sort, the most exquisite pain a woman can ever know. When she fell onto him, he rolled her back until he was on top.

"Will you come now?" she asked.

"I want to hold it. Until you've made it as much as possible."

"You're better than before," she said. "I can tell it's different with you. I can tell there is love in it. I don't know why I couldn't tell there wasn't love the first time."

"There was," he said. "There's always been love with you. But I suppressed it those first times."

"Take me up again, then," she said. "Take me wherever you want to take me."

"Going up," he said, pounding swiftly but easily into her hot, wet trough.

It was better than before for Sam too. There was a thrill in his body that he had never known before. He had glimpsed it those first times with Susan, but had not felt it in its full force. Now, admitting his love, caring for another human being, the well of his emotions was spouting the water of his soul high into him, and he had never felt remotely so wonderful.

When he had brought her through another climax and felt his balls screaming to explode, they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

He stopped, listened.

Whoever it was used the doorbell this time.

"Better get up," he said.

"Damn!" she said, grinning.

He plummeted her slick depths one last time, making her gasp, then pulled out, rolled away, found his jeans and struggled into them. Behind him, she slid into her shorts and started putting on her blouse, not taking time to sheath her breasts in the bra.

When he opened the door, he found Brenda Markwell standing on the other side. She was looking depressed, had heavy bags under her pretty eyes. She fidgeted, looked at him, then looked down at the wooden stoop as if she were a child that had done something wrong and had now come home to admit it.

When he could think of nothing to say to her, she raised her head again and asked: "May I come in."

"Yes," he said, stepping away to let her by. He could not imagine what she had come here for. He hoped that there would be no scene to ruin the evening. Then he decided, with Susan now his, nothing could ever possibly ruin the evening!

He closed the door and turned to her. She had seen Susan, caught sight of the bra lying beside the sofa. "Oh," she said. "Maybe I'd better go."

He turned her away from the door. "Not at all," he said. "You're welcome."

"But if I've interrupted…"

"Shush," Susan said, smiling at her.

Brenda turned to him and said, "I came… I thought that…" She looked back to Susan. "I guess not…"

"Brenda, what is it?" he asked.

"Well, you're with her."

"So?"

"Well, I thought you were serious this afternoon."

"About giving up hustling?" he asked.

She looked surprised. She stared at Susan, looked even more confused when Susan only smiled. "But… Well…"