Ann Griffin - Skin summer

"You want to cream on my tits?" she asked.

He felt his balls jerk in the sack. He pulled away from her. "No. I can't come. I've got to hold out."

"But that was fun," she said.

"So is this."

He swung around, almost sitting on her face. "Put my nuts in your mouth. One at a time."

"The hair…" she started.

"Do what I tell you!" There was a commanding tone in his voice that could not be ignored.

She raised her head just enough to slip his sack in her mouth. It was too large, and she gagged.

"One at a time, I said. Come on!"

She felt the sack with her fingers, separated the two trembling globes and engulfed one in the saliva-rich hole of her mouth.

"Wallow it around," he said.

She wallowed it, rolling it deliciously on her tongue like a child savoring a hard candy. His whole frame shook with the excitement of it. He gripped his own thighs and concentrated on not ejaculating. It wasn't easy, but he didn't want to give Linda everything and not be more than ready for the Markwell bitch tomorrow.

"The other one," he said.

She was nearly delirious with sensation now. She obliged, quickly, seemed to like it. He could feel her slobber running down his thighs.

"How's it taste?" he asked.

She mumbled pleasantly. When she had him on the precipice of explosion, he pulled away from her, went down into her fox with his face, nuzzling it. "I like the way you smell," he said. "You smell like a woman should smell down here. Clean and good. Prime meat."

"Please," she said. "Will you lick me?"

"What will you do for me if I do?" he asked, stringing her along, debasing her as much as he could.

"Hell, I'll suck you off."

"That's not enough."

She looked perplexed. It was plain that she was in no condition to think clearly. Her attention was centered on his prick and tongue and what they could do to her sweet pot. "I mean I'll swallow what you shoot."

"Not enough. Will you suck me until I'm ready, then let me shoot on your face?"

"Okay," she said more readily than he would have thought. "But make me come now. Hurry."

He spread her slit and licked at the glistening red membrane. She bucked beneath him, panting, wild, on the brink of blasting off. He realized that she must have gotten super-heated just by sucking his nuts. He licked faster, chewed her until her sweet aroma changed, grew stronger and muskier. She climaxed twice within a few minutes, wrapped her legs around him, begging for more tongue work.

Instead, he mounted her, brutally, without any more Vaseline than was on his cock from screwing her boobs. He sank deep, began the most vicious motion he could maintain.

"Jesus Christ!" she whimpered, clawing at his back, digging her nails in his flesh as his probing meat made her explode again, again, then a fifth time.

"No, I'm… not… Christ," he panted. "But I think I'm… a… very good second."

"Yes, yes," she moaned, tearing at him as he reamed her, "your prick is God. I worship your damned prick."

He pulled out of her, brought his rod to her lips. He had not planned to shoot his wad, but the idea of spewing his cream on her pretty face was almost too much to bear. He poked at her mouth, and she accepted him, slimy with her juices. But she showed no distaste now. She slobbered and pumped and tongued until he felt as if the top of his head would blow off. Then the steam from his sack was coming, and he knew he could not wait or control it any longer. He pulled free of her mouth, holding himself with his right hand, pumping his meat.

A jet of milky fluid spouted out of the meatus and spattered across her nose. Then another jet, as large as the first struck her forehead. He jerked at his penis until the last droplet had spilled onto her face.

Linda brought her hands up, shaking, uncontrollable hands, and began to smear the cream into her face, as if it was a beauty treatment. Soon, her entire face glistened with his sperm. She licked the residue off her hand and smiled at him. He came down on her, kissing her face, licked his own cream away, kissed her, striking deep with his tongue. He felt the hard lump of his prick and found it had not gone limp. He mounted her again, plunged wildly, and brought her to a climax twice again, though he did not ejaculate any more of his valuable fluid.

She stood by the door, fully clothed again, and looked at him where he laid on the bed, still naked and beautiful. "I'm sorry about accusing you," she said.

"That's okay, Linda."

"No, it's not. I could have lost you. I wouldn't like that."

Then she was gone, closing the door behind. She stood in the cool night air, sucking it in, thinking about him, about his love making. When the summer ended and he was gone, she was going to miss that eight inches very much.

She turned back toward the cabin at the head of the main line in which she lived the summers of her life, had lived the last six summers ever since she was twenty-two and had started this job. She reached the door, unlocked it, and went inside. When she flipped the lights on, she was confronted by her secretary, Jenny Sansom. "How did you get in?" Linda asked.

"I have a key, remember?"

Jenny Sansom was a bird of a woman, five feet one inch tall, a hundred pounds. She was dark complexioned, with close-cut dark hair. She had a mean look to her, though Linda knew that – at certain times of ecstasy – she was genuinely beautiful.

"What do you want?" Linda asked, slipping out of her blouse and hanging it on a rod in the closet.

"You were down there with him a long time."

"We talked about the Markwell girl."

"I guess he has you fooled."

Linda looked at her sideways. "That's no way to talk. He's perfectly innocent. He was cleaning a stopped drain."

"Brenda Markwell's no virgin – her little drain isn't stopped."

Linda laughed. "You really hate him, don't you? I can't see why. Or maybe I can."

"You were in bed with him, weren't you?" Jenny Sansom asked, moving closer, more belligerent now.

"What if I was?" Linda asked, turning to her.

So quickly that the movement was almost unnoticeable, Jenny Sansom made a fist and slammed the tiny thing into Linda's stomach. The big girl doubled over, retching. Jenny used the same hand to slap her on the face, again and again.

"You were in bed with him!" Jenny shouted. "I wasn't!"

"Admit it, you filthy little bitch!" Jenny's eyes were wild now, her face contorted almost beyond recognition. Her thin lips were drawn back, exposing fine, white teeth.

"Really, Jenny! He didn't touch me!"

Jenny Sansom swung again, landed a blow alongside Linda's head. It was solid and painful. The big girl went down, hit the floor with a solid, crashing noise. Jenny drew back a foot and kicked her hips until the younger girl clutched them in misery. She ran into the bathroom, came back with a wet towel. When Linda tried to raise up, she pushed the girl back, got her bra off her, and slapped the wet towel against the heaving breasts of the young girl.

Red lines began to appear, and soon the great, beautiful tits were a solid crimson, and Linda was crying, shielding her face in her hands, bawling like a child.

Jenny stopped, exhausted, and seemed to see what she had done for the first time. She threw the towel aside and fell on the big girl. She was crying now too. She began kissing the breasts, licking them, soothing them. "Linda… forgive me. I love you. Pretty… pretty titties. I don't know… what got into me. Please… Linda."

Linda pulled the birdish woman against her stinging, heaving breasts and consoled her. "It's all right, Jenny. Don't cry. You didn't hurt me so badly. And I was with him, even though I said I wasn't."

Jenny blubbered from between the breasts. "You shouldn't fall for him. He wants to use you. Put it in and take it out of you. That's all."