Jason Cannon - Marcy in heat

"I realize that, Reverend Morris, so a couple of the girls and I have planned a preview showing at the Carlyle… the business suite? We'll let you in on all you need to know."

"Well, I don't know."

"It will only take a couple of hours and the show is next month. Please?"

"Well, I suppose it will be all right. What time?"

"Eight o'clock tomorrow evening."

Marcy had seven hundred dollars in her savings. She withdrew it all, hid six hundred of it in her room, and headed for the Carlyle.

"Now let me get this straight, Miss. You just want to rent the suite for two hours tomorrow evening?"

"That's right… from eight to ten."

"Well, that's highly irregular."

The assistant manager of the Carlyle Hotel was a little man with huge glasses who was probably afraid of his own shadow. But he was all eyes as he scanned Marcy's breasts and legs.

He was probably somewhere in his forties and, from his naked finger, she guessed him to be single. He was also obviously afraid for his job and did everything by the book.

"I'm afraid we would have to have two hundred dollars for the suite," he said. "In advance."

She hadn't figured on nearly that much. "But that's one hundred dollars an hour."

"Yes… I'm afraid so… and I would like to see some references about your organization."

Oh shit, Marcy thought, that would be impossible. She was determined not to blow it now… after going this far. "I would like to see the suite," she said, deciding to gamble on the interest his eyes had shown in her body.

"Very well," he said, standing and moving around the desk. "Right this way."

Marcy smiled openly at his back as she followed him to the elevator. She was sure she had seen a very large bulge in the front of his pants.

"This is the showroom and over there is the lounge and bar," he said, gesturing to the door leading off the large main room, which contained a runway and several easy chain and sofas. "And in here is the bedroom. It's rarely used unless a client wants to spend an entire… a… ahem, sometimes do some entertaining."

She jumped on it.

"Entertaining?" she said.

"Yes… but, of course, you wouldn't be needing this room."

"I wouldn't be too sure," Marcy said. "I kind of like to do entertaining!"

"I don't think we mean the same kind of entertaining," he said nervously.

"Maybe we do," she said. "Could we have a soda or something? I'd like to see the runway in lights."

He closed the windows while she got them both a soft drink from the bar. While she was in the bar she slipped her bra and panties off and put them in her purse.

When she returned to the room it was too dark for him to notice that her breasts were swaying, unfettered, beneath the thin material of the blouse. She handed him a glass and sat beside him on a sofa facing the runway.

"Very nice," she said, watching the colored lights play across the runway.

"It's the latest equipment," he said. "All the lights are on swivel rotors that are designed to accent the model no matter where she moves."

He was talking about the lights and the runway, but his eyes were on Marcy and she knew it. He was trying to get a better look in the semidarkness at what he was sure were her dark nipples showing through the white blouse.

"I'll see," Marcy said, and jumped up on the runway.

She moved back and forth in the light, doing the best imitation she could of a model's movements. The man didn't notice. All he could see was her body. When she was directly above him on the runway he could look up and see every hair on the mound between her legs. When he looked up at her breasts, he was surprised to see that her bustline was indeed all hers.

When Marcy was sure that his cock was so painful in his pants that he could hardly stand it, she moved off the runway and stood in front of him.

"Do the lights do me justice?" she said.

"They… they hide very little," he stammered. "But they still don't show enough… do they?" she said.

She unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it from her shoulders. Then came the skirt, slowly, inch by inch, downward, until the dark triangle of her pubic hair gleamed in the light before his eyes. She kicked the skin off and leaned forward, so her breasts swayed tantalizingly in front of his face.

He could feel the uncomfortable bulge in the front of his pants and knew it was clearly obvious to her. He shifted a little in his seat to ease the stain caused by the taut fabric. It only made it worse.

"I can see that it's big," Marcy said, looking directly at the front of his trousers.

"Miss… I don't know what you think you're doing, but…"

"I wonder if it's too big…" Marcy said.

"Too big?" he replied.

"I guess not," she said. "I don't think they come too big, do they? I mean, I think I'd like a big one."

"Too big for what," he said, the perspiration pouring off his face.

"To suck," she replied frankly. "And to fill up my pussy. I'll bet yours would really fill up my pussy. Did you lock the door?"

"It's a… it's an… automatic lock," he said.

"Well, then, let me see it, honey. Don't keep it all to yourself."

He undressed like a robot, as if she had turned a key in his back and pushed a button on his forehead that said, "undress".

She was surprised when she saw his cock. The head was swollen to bursting and it throbbed as tiny drops of fluid glistened in the slit. The shaft was thick, with pulsing blue veins that betrayed his passion.

"Beautiful cock," Marcy mewled, and thought how lucky she was… she would be able to get some pleasure out of the job at hand. She curled down into a crouch in front of him, running her hands over the length of his rod.

"Please, Miss Whalen… we just can't…"

She silenced him by parting her lips and sliding the full length of his pulsing meat down her throat. She lifted her face off of it and repeated the action. Her lips settled into the pubic hair at the very base of his cock.

"Oh my God," he groaned.

He had thought about fucking her from the moment she had walked into his office. But then, he always thought and dreamed about fucking the beautiful women he met; he just never actually got to do it.

He turned his head, gasping as her tongue worked on the sac containing his balls. She moved up beside him on the sofa.

He watched her smile at him out of the corner of his eye. Taking a chance, he slid his hand all the way up the inside of her thigh. She slid down in the seat and spread her legs.

He gasped at his good fortune, at her obvious readiness, and the way she had thrust her body at him.

"If you want it," she said, "take it."

He had somehow expected that he would have to conquer her, seduce her. Instead, she made herself so available he didn't know where to touch her first… her ass, her tits, her delicious furry cunt, or all of them at once.

He dove for her tits. The purple tips stood out like daggers, pulsating, rubbing against his lips. They were huge and sweet as he sucked them between his lips, twisting and squirming as they entered his mouth.

His body shook with a tension that seemed, to her, to border on fear. She couldn't understand it. Didn't he want to fuck? She didn't know that he had never been this close to such female perfection before.

She made her breasts quiver and shake for his delight. He mopped his brow and put his mouth farther over her breasts, sucking at the hot nipples. He caressed her down the length of one leg, and then up the fullness of her buttocks. She lay there with her hair falling to her shoulders, hips rotating, grinding against his greedy cock. She whimpered and brought her thighs apart to absorb the heat of his body.

"Your cock feels good between my legs like that, just touching my pussy," she said in a groggy voice.