Bill Randolph - Making Mrs. Robinson

As his tongue poked through the creamy folds of her pussy and tickled the pinkish depths of her fuckhole, she slowly drew her knees up and opened herself even more to his probing tongue strokes. She began to roll her head from side to side as her passion soared. She clawed at the bedsheets with her fingernails and floated along with the climbing sensations attacking her nerves.

She humped her pelvis, cramming her overheated pussy into her husband's face. She felt his tongue spear deeply into her cunt cavern and she howled as a thunderous orgasm immediately whipped through her.

At the same time, Paul crushed his face even

harder against her cunt. His nose pressed against her twitching clit even as he wedged his tongue in and out of her soupy cunthole. Meanwhile, her orgasm stretched and continued to build. The slick fluids gushed from her pussy passage and spilled into his slurping mouth.

She kept screaming her glee as the climax seemed to last forever. Her ass bounced up and down on the ad as she fucked back at Paul's tongue. It was all almost perfect.

Still, in the midst of her ecstasy, a troubling thought plagued her mind. With all of the happiness and physical pleasure she was savoring with her husband, she couldn't get her mind off of Dennis Andersen. She kept replaying the wild scene in his office, every raunchy detail seemingly etched in her brain.

She imagined shocking images of both Paul and Dennis devouring her body with their tongues and pricks. She imagined the two men fucking her pussy, then turning her over and reaming out her ass. She fantasized sucking one man a cock while getting ass fucked by the other. Repeatedly, the wild scenes played through her mind even as her body was being whipped into a frenzy of lust by her husband's tongue and mouth.

Faster and faster she shook her head. She tried desperately to shake out the vile images and

to concentrate on the passionate tongue-fucking her husband was giving her.

What would Paul say if he knew about, her wanton thoughts? The very notion of him discovering what was now filling her mind chilled her. It would confirm his worst fears about her taking this part-time job. It would, she knew, be the end of her marriage.

She wailed, but the passion was replaced by a dread that was painful. Her orgasm seemed to be subsiding and the sudden chili began spreading over her flesh.

Then, a relentless passion recaptured her fear as she realized her husband was tonguing his way to her asshole. He had quickly lifted her legs and draped them over his broad shoulders while ducking his head down. He licked his way along her upturned asscrack and before she could brace herself for the inevitable, his tongue was spearing her asshole.

Instant convulsions rocked her. She shrieked with fresh joy as the rapture engulfed her, Her shrill cries seemed to encourage him as he drilled his tongue into her tight shitter.

She came quickly, the climax jarring her pussy even as her ass-muscles caused an explosion of hot ecstasy to crash through her senses and momentarily all the disturbing images vanished from her mind. She clutched her tits as the

pleasure raced through her.. She tried to clutch as well the fleeting moment of pure, guilt-free thought that played across her mind.

But soon, as her orgasm faded, she again confronted the devilish images of the two men in her life taking her at the same time with their cocks, their tongues. Long alter Paul had gone to sleep, Hope gazed up at the ceiling in the dark bedroom, unable or unwilling to shut off the constant flow of vivid, wanton fantasizing involving both Paul and Dennis.

The next morning as she rushed to work, she tried to dismiss the lewd thoughts as some sort of sexy dream. Still, she entered the real estate office full of apprehension.

"You're late," Dennis snapped, glancing up to see her hurry to her desk. He was glancing at his phone messages on the receptionist's desk.

"Sorry." she said more meekly than she had intended.

He eyed her with a smirky expression. "Rough night?"

"Actually, a very satisfying night," she retorted, determined to be aloof and maybe even a little bitchy in front of him. Why give him the satisfaction of even suspecting he had been the object of her disturbingly explicit thoughts?

"Ah, the life, of newlyweds," Dennis said, getting a chorus of soft giggles from the other.

office workers. "Now don't be embarrassed, Hope."

Despite her efforts, she felt her face blush as she pretended to busy herself with the papers stacked on her desk. In truth, her heart was racing and she felt a nervous, clammy sweat coat her hands. She even tried to ignore him when Dennis stepped right up to her, desk.

"When you finish reading that material I gave you yesterday, come into my office," he said, just loud enough for the two of them to hear. "I've decided to throw you right into the water. On-the-job training is the best way to learn this business."

She glanced up and tried to read his expression. Was he serious, or was his invitation to his office an excuse for more duties of a personal nature? She couldn't guess, but she couldn't ignore the sudden excitement that gripped her. The pounding of her heart took on a new meaning, and Hope hated it at the same time that she felt her self thrilling to the prospect of submitting to more of his sexual demands.

Ten minutes later when she entered his office, she was disappointed to find him very professionally studying papers on his desk. He barely glanced up when she entered. Instead he tossed a set of keys across the desk. He scrawled an address on a pad and tossed it toward the keys.

"You want to be an agent. Hope," he said. "No better way to learn than to do. Be at that address at ten o'clock and show the house to a prospect. She'll be there, so don't be late. Pull the sheet on the property from the file and familiarize yourself with the particulars. Give me a call after the showing."

She nodded and left the office, surprised and disappointed. Maybe this job would be more work than play. Maybe she was getting what she really wanted. But what did she want, and why was she suddenly disappointed?

Hope left the office with the necessary information on the house. As she drove to the location, she continued trying to sort out her own confused feelings and thoughts.

At the last minute, she almost drove to her own house to phone Dennis and tell him she no longer wanted the job. But she didn't.

She found the address and parked in front of the house at the curb. She walked up the long, winding sidewalk to the pleasant house and let herself in with the key Dennis had provided. She placed her materials on the nearest table, then scouted the vacant house.

It was roomy and spacious, and Hope couldn't help but briefly fantasize that one day she and Paul would own such a home. She wandered through the rooms, checking her

watch and ignoring the bout of nervousness that tweaked her. Dennis had said she would be meeting an important potential buyer, and she was anxious to make a good impression. She kept running the vital information about the house through her mind, practicing the presentation she would use on the prospective buyer.

She continued her inspection of the house, familiarizing herself with the various features. She strolled through the kitchen and opened a door that led into the garage. She gasped instantly, startled to see a muscular teenaged youth, stripped to the waist, hanging a rolled garden hose above a shelf. His beck was to her, but he obviously heard her surprised gasp. His head snapped around and he saw her over his broad, sweaty shoulder.

"Hi," he said, an easy grin spreading over his cute face. "Sony if I frightened you." He turned and headed slowly across the garage toward her, his smile broadening. "I'm Johnny Colson."