Peter Jensen - The blackmailed mother book II

Saunders quickly moved around in his stool, saliva forming at the corners of his pudgy mouth. Old Zeigler was going to get a set of photos, by damned; one hell of a hot set – for Kim was in rare form today, and when she got like this she could fuck a man to death! Saunders didn't know why Zeigler wanted the pictures, or who the sucker in the living room was but he knew that when they got down to nakedly writhing on the couch or in bed, he was going to have his hands full snapping the shutter of his camera.

Roger Carmel was stunned by Kim Copeland's change into "something more comfortable". She wore short-shorts of bright red, so tight that her pubic mound and its teasing little cuntal cleft was impressed on the cloth between her white thighs. Her long, statuesque legs, bronzed from the sun of Nevada, were bare and curvaceous, and her belly was just as tanned and nude between the band of her shorts and her strained halter. Her breasts quivered, barely concealed by the thin halter, and Roger could almost make out her nipples. Her sparkling green eyes sparkled vivaciously and with a hint of fire.

She moved panther-like to the couch. "You finished your drink. I'll make you another." She seemed to catch his wide-eyed stare for the first time. "What's the matter, Roger? I plan to go out and suntan after you leave. I hope this isn't too much for you." She smiled slyly as she undulated toward the kitchen. "Don't forget, I won't eat you."

She didn't add the word she was thinking: "Yet."

Before he could protest, Kim she was back out of the kitchen, gin bottle in hand, glasses full of ice and tonic. "I thought it would be better if we made them out here from now on, don't you?" She didn't wait for his strangled reply, but sat down very close to him and crossed one slim, tanned leg over the other, tightening the material of her shorts until the pulsating slit of her pussy was sharply defined, and as she mixed his drink and handed it back to him, she leaned forward so that a good deal of her creamy, globular breasts were exposed to him – with just the bare hint of her ruby colored and rock hard nipples. He felt a flush creep up his neck. Yet he was unable to take his eyes off her provocative lushness. Like it had a life of its own, his cock gave a tentative spasm against his underpants, and his testicles contracted with a lewd spark of excitement. Quickly he took a long pull on his gin and tonic.

Kim chuckled to herself, knowing the effect that Roger Carmel's emotional upheaval was having on his normally cautious, unassailable character as well as the liquor. Drinking when under the mental anguish which was wracking Roger, always hit the mind harder and faster than at other times, when a person was relaxed, as Kim knew from her experiences with married men with marital problems. She drank from her glass, savoring the juniper taste of the gin and the bitterness of the tonic; alcohol increased her own sexual fervor, too, though she could control herself if she was so inclined; now that she was with Roger Carmel.

Yes, she mused, Mr. Roger Carmel was hers, no mistake about that, even if he didn't know about it yet. She felt the initial droplets of her lubricants begin to flow from the sensitive walls of her vagina as she considered what would be taking place within the next hour. Brother, was she going to have this guy fuck her… it would be one fuck he'd never forget!

Roger felt a warm lethargy overtake him as he drank his third gin and tonic. The quickly swallowed drinks were doing exactly what he had hoped the liquor would do – help him forget his troubles, and if he got drunk, all the better as far as he was concerned. And of course it wasn't every day that a man had the opportunity to get looped with a young vivacious girl as lovely and sensual as Kim Copeland. She was really some thing, he thought admiringly. How could any husband ever leave her? She exuded pure animal sex dressed in that tiny halter and shorts; a sudden change from the demure secretary to a teasing, alluring woman of the flesh, with a miasma of sexual fire encompassing her as she walked, talked, breathed…

What he'd like to do right now, right this very minute if he wasn't married, was to take Kim in his arms and kiss her, touch her firm, proud breasts… oh, nothing more than that, he hastily added to his thoughts; he wouldn't fuck her or anything – but God she was so damned desirable, so… so damned hot-looking! He moistened his lips with the cool liquid of his drink, already mentally kissing her soft, coral lips, caressing her vibrating white breasts and tweaking the pink rimmed nipples he could almost see…

Roger's lust-provoked cock spasmed with hunger and strained for release against his restraining band of cloth. He tried to banish the lecherous thoughts which were overheating his mind, but in spite of his anguish, his rigid penis remained hard and blood swollen. His eyes went to Kim's face… In turn, the provocative, lurid little prostitute lowered her eyes and focused on the bulge at Roger's loins. She grinned again, this time more forcefully. "You like me," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "I can tell."

"I… well, that is…" Roger stammered, knowing instantly what she was referring to: the unquenchable erection burning his pants.

Kim laughed throatily. Now it was time to be the feline, now was the time to cast aside her chaffing role of the modest secretary and become the uncontrolled hedonist, the lover of passion and sex. "Don't be ashamed of your hard-on, Roger. I've been married, remember? I know how it is with a man."

"Kim, I'm sorry. Really I am. I better leave."

"No! Don't!" she demanded in a husky voice, her mouth and eyes so close to Roger's face. "You think that just because we girls don't have penises, we don't get excited? We show it differently, and maybe not so obviously as your stiff cock…"

"Kim!" Roger gasped, shocked at the lewd words.

"Cock, Roger. You have a big hard cock, and it's because you want to fuck me, isn't it? That's why you're breathing as hard as I am and squirming in your seat and are all red in the face. You want to take your clothes off and fuck me!"

"Oh, God!" Roger groaned, gasping for air like a stranded fish. His penis was palpitating wildly, and his brain reeled with the heady combination of gin and sex. Had he heard her correctly? Had this sweet, publicly modest secretary been telling him that he was wanting to fuck her with his cock? And what was the matter with him? He was thinking the same filthy words! Lord, his testicles were aching with the pressure of his sperm as if he really was that crude and debased as to take advantage of her. Didn't she know what her obscene use of the words were doing to him? He took another swallow of his never-empty drink and found that he could hardly hold the glass in his trembling hand. He must leave… get out before they were both sorry for what he might do in a sudden impulsive move. But he was rooted to the couch.

Kim leaned closer, her breath a white-hot fire brand on his cheeks and she touched his thigh lightly, her fingertips seething with desire, searing the cloth. "I can tell you're married, Roger. What's your wife like?"

Roger was taken aback for a moment. What was there to say about himself and Lonnie? What could he tell this teasing vixen about how he suspected his wife of cheating on him, of letting another man fuck her… Before he could gather the semblance of a reply, Kim went on. "It doesn't matter, Roger," she said, "but I can tell by the way you reacted that you've got problems at home. It your wife untrue to you or just no good in bed?"

"Lonnie's a very capable sex partner," Roger said, stiffly.

"Then it must be my first guess. She's being very capable with somebody else." Kim shrugged, her breasts in marvelous profile. "Join my club Roger, honey. My husband was fucking around on me all the time, too." She was almost nuzzling his cheek now, and her voice was sugar in his fevered ears. "We've both been lashed by the same whip. So let's lash back and have a little fun in the bargain."