Roberta Taylor - Nasty Sharon

Nancy felt Buddy's rod slide up her cuntal cave. Full, she grunted. Her twat was gulping at the fat meat, knitting gelatinous strands about it, tying all those knots that built up into the big, Gordian knot that could be untied only by the cutting blade of orgasm. His loins flattened her asscheeks.

She choked, "Harve, I'm boiling inside. I'm starting to wind up toward an orgasm! I'm going to come!"

He pinched her chin between thumb and forefinger. She looked up at his dark, beady eyes.

He said, "Beg for it, Nancy."

Red flashes before her eyes blotted out her view of his face. She moaned. "I want it, Harve. Let me suck your cock!"

Buddy's tool rammed into her and she felt her gushing begin. Another hundred knots tangled in her cunt, knitting it into a sleeve rippling on his organ.

She pleaded, "Harve, fuck my mouth. Please!"

At last he gave it to her.

She fell on it, impaled her mouth on the bony length. Her nostrils flared, drinking in his smell. She fisted the stem and jerked. She cupped the balls in her hands and rolled them together.

Harve patted her cheek. "You're a good cocksucker, Nancy. I'll let you blow me every night. Would you like that?"

She backed off, but kept the head in her mouth when she said, "Yes, every night. And you'll fuck me, too, Harve. Harve, are you going to come in my mouth?"

He did not answer.

She heard Buddy yell, "Ahhh! There it is, take my load!"

His cock was ramming wildly in her, stretching the Gordian knot of her snatch, which quirked and convoluted, writhed and sucked at the giant cylinder of meat.

But she did not come. She knew why. She wanted to come on Harve's load. She sucked more gently now, voluptuously mouthing the long man rod, licking the tasty head. Buddy's cream flew into her belly but she still did not come. He yelled and banged her, ramming her with that king-sized cock. But she only smiled and turned her head to explore the contours of the curved iron prick in her mouth, and swabbed it with the flat of her tongue.

Harve was the boss, in command. That was all. Buddy was only a child.

She felt Buddy's cock wither and slip out of her. Goo ran down her legs, a mixture of pent-up cunt juice and his cum.

Resting her head on Harve's thigh, she tongued his organ from her mouth.

She whispered, "Harve, I didn't come."

She felt his rough hand stroke her cheek.

"Harve, would you like to fuck me?"

"Just a minute. Buddy, you get your ass out of here. Go find yourself some teen-age pussy. Nancy is my cunt, my private stock. Dig?"

Buddy whimpered, "Nancy, what should I do?"

"Split," Harve told him.

"Split," Nancy echoed.

She bent Harve's cock to her mouth. She sucked at the tip. She heard noises that meant Buddy was leaving. Or maybe he was, not. It was not her concern. She had a man now. Buddy's departure was Harve's business.

A plan formed in her mind. She could quit her job and recommend that Harve take it. If their fucking were discreet, she would soon get her divorce. She could live on the alimony.

Yes, she wanted Harve to take her job.

At last he said, "Buddy's gone. Let's get on the bed."

He helped her up. She spilled down on the bed, on her back.

"Nancy, pull your legs back. Wide apart. So you can wrap them around me as soon as I shove in. That's how I like it, climbing on the bed and seeing the undersides of your thighs and your ass turned up, and your twat open. Dig?"

Smiling, she grasped her knees and pulled them back. She felt Harve plant a kiss right in the middle of her yawning gash.

Then he climbed onto her, a lean, dark, hairy, naked guy with a yard of prick that instantly sank into her and plumbed the depths of her hole. She armed him in, crossed her ankles and rested her heels on his buttocks.

His hands cupped her tits. His cock had seemed to fill her, but more now stretched her cunt. She squeezed her sphincter in, making her cunt gulp at the rigid meat.

He rasped, "You sure have a hot hole, Nancy. The best!"

"Better than Sharon's?"

"What about her?"

"You've fucked her, haven't you? Just like you told Buddy?"

"Sure, but listen, she's just a little hooker on the make. I mean, she's trying to bust you out of your job. That's why she brought Buddy around, knowing you, needed some meat bad. But you're a real woman, Nancy. You and I can have a terrific racket here if we stick together. But we don't dare trust Sharon."

She kissed his cheek, then whispered, "Are you going to talk about Sharon or fuck me?"

He grinned. "First I'm going to suck your big tits."

He twisted down to them, raising each in a hand, licking the rampant nipples, then wolfing in flesh.

Smiling, Nancy wrapped her limbs tightly about him. She waited. Soon he abandoned her titties, snuggled into her crotch, and began jogging inside her.

The first spasms wrenched at her snatch.

He rode her hard. Long strokes tore into her. She arched up, choking, "You're coming, Harve! You're going to come inside me!"

He laughed. "Not yet, baby. You're used to Buddy's hair-trigger kid stuff."

How long did it last? Nancy's belly unknotted and gushed, and still he churned her frothing hole. She flew up to still another peak before his blast came and shot through her body. His cream seemed to spurt up her cunt to her throat. Strangling, thrashing, exploding over the peak, she took load after load while shrieking and moaning.

She sagged down, exhausted, but Harve still pumped his long cock in and out of her gaping hole.

In the morning, off duty, Sharon changed to shorts and halter for her picnic date with Tom Thornton.

Last night when Lita left, she had tucked a small envelope into Sharon's bra. It had contained five one-hundred-dollar bills, a down payment on the little white car. Two days ago Sharon would have shrieked with joy. Now the car seemed unimportant.

Lita had said to come at three this afternoon. There would be something special. Somehow, Sharon felt that she was losing control of her own destiny.

Another thing bothered her. Just before dawn, she had noticed strange looks passing between Nancy and Harve. It was almost like the two had a thing going between them.

But that was impossible: Buddy was supposed to come to the motel in the wee hours. She had not seen him. She guessed he had slept through the night.

She went out to the restaurant kitchen and picked up the picnic lunch she had ordered, then left for the street. She walked in blinding sunshine toward Harris Motor Sales.

She did not have to go inside. Tom Thornton stood at the curb beside the battered blue demonstrator, grinning at her.

She smiled back.

When she was close she took Lita's envelope from her purse and gave it to him.

"Down payment on the white car," she said.

Examining the money, he frowned. He studied her. "You don't seem very excited about it."

"I'm tired, I guess."

"I know: a long, hard night. Like the night before." He shrugged. "Climb into the car. I'll put your money in the safe."

Sharon shoehorned herself into the little bomb. Shortly Tom came and took the wheel.

As he drove out to the seacoast road he said, "Behind the seat is some beer. A can of it should revive you."

She found a couple of six-packs. She popped a can and sat there, holding it between her breasts.

Tom said, "I'd thought of going up the coast to a quiet beach I know of, but rain is predicted. My uncle has a fishing cabin on one of the lakes. We could picnic on the porch, or duck inside if rain comes. Okay?"

Nodding in agreement, she sipped the beer. Rain seemed unlikely in this blazing sunshine. She took the dark glasses from, her purse and hid herself behind them, thinking, Tom is a nice guy, thoughtful, decent. What am I doing with him?