Roberta Taylor - Nasty Sharon

Indeed, she had a reason for seducing Buddy far beyond her own immediate pleasure. Yesterday when she saw him jerking off this massive tool, she had thought of her boss, Nancy Forbes.

Nancy would come from just looking at this cock.

If Sharon could control Buddy, his tool would serve as a lever to pry Nancy out of her cushy job as night manager of the motel. Sharon would take her place.

But what counted was now, gulping at this enormous organ, drawing back again, teeth at the rim, forcing it out with her tongue, yet clinging with loving lips to the velvety fat arrowhead, her mouth closing toward the tip until her lips formed a pecking little kiss sucking on the split.

Moaning with pleasure, she slid the saliva-wet prick along her cheek and pressed against it.

She whispered, "Buddy, have you ever fucked a girl?"

"No."

"You're going to now," she said.

Sharon stepped out of the tub into the towel Buddy held. He began drying her. She could no longer wait, but seized his cock and led him toward her bedroom.

There was no need for caution. They were alone in the house. Buddy's mother, Myra – Sharon's stepmother – managed a dress shop downtown. She was not due home for hours. As for their father, he was hundreds of miles away doing one of two things – either selling jewelry or fucking some chick.

Sharon thought she had inherited her horniness from her did man, along with her red hair and her long legs. She was as tall as Buddy.

In her room she threw herself down on the bed, spreading her legs wide.

Buddy was struggling out of his tight shorts. He said, "Sis, it don't seem right, you and me…"

"It'll feel right, Buddy." Looking down her body, she saw that her white breasts stuck up like a pair of melons, sloping only a bit to the sides, tipped by red cones that in her inflamed vision seemed to pulse like neon lights.

Buddy climbed on the bed, staring at her crotch.

Her twat hair was fairly dry now, an auburn bush filling the gap between her legs, the fringes curling in russet tangles against her golden thighs.

He choked, "You sure have a hairy snatch, Sis."

"Do you dig bushy twat hair?"

He nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. Sharon slid her hand down her body and fingered her pussylips open.

He said, "Gee, Sis, your gash is so long and slick-looking, all pink…"

He moved into the fork of her thighs. Sharon's hand formed a cup, waiting for his cockhead. It nudged her palm. She turned it downward. She swabbed the velvet head on her clit. Fire shot through her belly. Groaning, she slid the huge arrowhead down her split to her hole.

"Buddy, shove in!" she choked.

He gave her a despairing look, knowing he shouldn't do this.

But a primitive male urge made his hips jerk. His cockhead jabbed into the wet portals of her hole.

She cried out in pain. It felt like a plush-padded fist rammed into her cunt.

Buddy's hands clamped on her shoulders, holding her down as he wedged the knob into her.

"Buddy, it's too big!"

She felt full, her belly stretched to bursting by the immense prick. Yet between her red pussy bush and his blond ruff she could see most of the long, curved cockstem still outside her. His hips jerked as the stem shortened. Sharon seized her knees and drew them back to straighten her twat.

"Slowly!" she cried.

He eased in. At last their crotch hair merged. The enormous prong was inside her.

She reached out to the sides of the mattress and hooked her fingers into the edges. She clung to reality in this fashion. Her cunt was filled from crotch to navel by throbbing hot iron. She could not take it. She squirmed, feeling their organs shift, the walls of her cunt stretching. She had always been a tight fit, but very juicy. Harve, at the motel, called her an easy, slippery fuck. But this enormous, meaty rod made her feel like a virgin just broken into.

Ruddy groaned, "It's so hot, Sis! Your cunt is just steamy!"

Fortunately he lingered, unmoving, savoring the squishy depths of her hot belly. This gave her time to adjust. When he at last jogged through a few short jerks, she was more relaxed and the feel of being burst open was replaced by a hot swarming of juices, then an excited inner pulsing on the moving meat.

She whispered, "Fuck me very slowly, in and out. Okay?"

She watched the dripping length slide out of her cunthair, a long curve, all outside now except the head. It returned, wedging smoothly in, driving to the depths of her belly.

As it struck bottom, Sharon's snatch grabbed the thick meat. He backed out again. Her cunt sucked loudly at the departing prick.

She was panting. Her chest heaved, tits rocking on their now uncertain foundation. Flames rolled from her belly to her eyes, and her face burned with the flush of orgasm. It spread down her throat to her tits, pinking them.

She moaned, "Buddy, I'm coming already."

"Sis, my nuts feel heavy, like a pair of baseballs. Can I shoot off?"

"Yes! Oh, yes! Fuck me, Buddy!"

"Can I fuck hard?"

"Yes! Fuck me as hard as you want!" She dug her heels into his spine and arched up to meet each thrust. Her cunt now rolled on his prick, sucking at it, clamping tight when he departed. He had stretched her, and she was joyously taking all he could deliver, each squishy slide in, each butting in the area of her navel. She heard the juicy swat of their groins, and now the slap of his scrotum into the spread of her wet ass, the slap driving a current of ecstasy up her ass. She was coming all over, like a volcano slowly spewing endless gobs of white heat that swirled to her fingertips, to her stiffened, spreading toes.

She clawed down his back to where her legs were crossed, stretched beyond digging her fingers into the hard orbs of his buttocks. She tugged him in closer, yes, deeper, getting more and more of the plunging cock. In that ecstatic moment, his prick was everything she had ever, dreamed of. It was like her fantasy of being laid by the big boss, the owner of the million-dollar Sunland Motel, Bud Connoly. It was busting Nancy Forbes out of her job as night manager, then moving into her place at two-hundred-plus per week. It was walking boldly into the Beachwear Boutique at the motel and buying that horribly expensive blue sunsuit, that tit-lifting, ass-hugging little silk-and-nylon delight. Above all, this was as good as owning that white convertible at Harris Motors, a little bomb you entered like toeing into a shoe.

Buddy croaked, "Sis, I'm coming! Coming!"

Her ass thrashed, rotating her cunt on his horse-sized cock. She became a fiery pinwheel spinning on that oiled axis. She grunted through belly surges of white heat, pulling pink taffy inside her until it stretched apart.

She felt a power she had never known. Nothing could stop her now. She was churning her cunt on the most brutal prick in Sunland. After this, everything would be easy – seducing Bud Connoly, getting Nancy's job, then the little white convertible.

Buddy's cock stiffened as he began the long run. He howled, surprised by the explosion of cream splashing out of his organ into the suction of his sister's boiling cunt. It squirted into her. It struck like hail, like molten lead. Sharon arched up and remained quivering against him, her cunt drinking the spew of his prick.

When he at last moaned and fell on her, Sharon was far out of this world, a pool of melted jelly dreaming of his next erection.

Night was falling as Sharon left the small, white ranch house in which she lived and strolled toward Sunland's main drag.

She walked slowly, feeling sensual, a well-fucked woman whose big breasts quivered and swayed under her blue uniform dress. The fabric rubbed her swollen nipples. Her cuntlips squished with every step, wetting her clean panties and drawing the crotch material into the split left open by her half-brother's cock.