Eileen Over - Eager To Bed Bunny

Again he traveled lower, resting his chin lightly on the soft belly, washing out whatever had accumulated in the navel with his tongue and finally burying his mouth in the thick fleece of v-shaped hair.

Claudia began to sob. Her legs were splayed, the moist slit between them pouting open. His tongue was there, lapping at the warm crotch, feeling the juices leak out. His tongue flicked at the slit, then sank fully inside.

That did it for the girl. The action of cunnilingus was slow, but it produced an orgasm. The girl flowed and moaned as she flowed. He repeated the process, the rhythm of his jabbing tongue becoming swifter, the pressure increasing. His face smelled of her love juice as she kept on dripping.

Hugh drew up waiting until she recovered her senses. He sent two fingers into her succulent opening, getting the fingers heated up at once. The hot, moist flesh closed tightly around the intruders and Claudia spilled again.

"Ohhh, another, ohhh, another!"

"Isn't it what you always need?"

"It is what I always want! Come, take me," she implored, "put your manhood into me."

"My way, this time, all right?"

"Oohh, if you wish."

Claudia rolled over on her belly and presented her lovely rear to him. He raised her, holding fast to her thighs, bringing her behind up, aimed his instrument and went right into her dripping vagina without any difficulty.

"Oooohhh, you touch things in me, all kinds of things and… oooohhh, ahhhh… I knew it, I knew it!"

"Agh, you are tight, you are hot, you are wet!"

"Take me, take me!"

"I am taking you."

Her bouncing bottom hammered upward, giving him an unbelievable delight. This made him so alive, feeling that luscious butt twisting against him, seeing her long hair whipping about, seeing her deliciously shaped breasts pressing into the bed.

When he pulled his thing out halfway he could see it was coated with a sticky cream of juice. Ahh, look at that, just look at that. Man, he dug in again, straight into the hot wetness, feeling Claudia's rear end clench in an urgent, spastic lust.

Breathing heavily, he came, shooting out just as she fell forward, her hands digging into the bed covers, her hips twisting. Hugh fell atop her, pasting his chest to her sweating back while spurting like a geyser.

Minutes later, when they were both totally worn out, he went limp and dropped easily out of her opening. "Ohhh, Claudia, Claudia!"

"I can't move, I am dead!"

Elsewhere in the villa they heard Maurier, shouting for her.

"Our boss is calling."

"Tell the bastard to go to hell. Ohh, Hugh, I want to sleep forever."

The party was held on the other side of the hill at the Villa Cagagni. It was situated close to the town and commanded a view of the sea. Reached by a twisting road, the villa was built on arches and was a sprawling place with over a dozen rooms, two kitchens, a library, sitting and dining rooms and an immense salon.

As they drove up in the Mercedes the villa, all ablaze with lights, reminded Hugh and his two passengers of a glistening diamond resting on a background of blue velvet.

The party was already on, the guests making noise. A tall, blondish young man, elegant in a tuxedo, came forth and shook each of their hands in turn. Maurier introduced Hugh not as the chauffeur but as a friend, staying with them.

"This is our host, Doctor Leasor."

"I know you from somewhere, I think." The good doctor displayed a splendid set of teeth in a smile. "Do come in. And how are you, dear Countess, looking as young and beautiful as ever, I see."

The Countess ran her long fingers through her rich head of dyed hair. "I can't afford not to."

The doctor lowered his voice, speaking in a very confidential tone. "The guests are weird tonight. And the girl I am keeping, a jewel. Simply beautiful, a dancer. But the bitch is bleeding me dry. Honestly, I am unable to save a penny with her around."

Hugh had chosen his own suit to wear rather than cover his body with the gifts of the Countess, but as yet he had not given her to understand that they would all be returned.

He followed the three people into the villa and the first sight greeting his eyes was that of a couple, a long-haired brunette in a green gown of shimmering sequins stretched out on the couch next to a flaming-haired man in a gold suit.

Maurier looked about. "Do I know anyone here, doctor? They all seem to be strangers and you said we would encounter old friends."

"So I did." The doctor strode toward the couple, sank his fingers into the long, dark tresses of the sequin-gowned girl and yanked. The girl screamed and clapped both hands to her head while the doctor held what appeared to be a wig, shaking it from side to side.

"Voilа!"

"Doctor! You devil" The girl, who was actually a bald-headed man, squealed.

"Do you see?" The doctor turned to his three new guests. "That proves that you must not believe everything you see. Here you are, Leonard." He tossed the wig at the red-faced transvestite and led his guests further on.

It seemed to be more bedlam than a party. A fat man in a sailor suit whose belly hung down like a deflated balloon was before the piano, playing and singing at the top of his lungs: "I'm mad about the boy!"

Four people, all girls were whirling out a beat rhythm while a middle-aged, heavy-faced man dressed like a rocker in leather stumbled among the dancers, begging one of them, just one, to be his partner.

Everyone was drinking cocktails, but. Hugh opted for a double scotch on the rocks. His companions, the good doctor, Maurier and the Countess, had disappeared. He moved about, sipping at his whiskey, trying to figure out who in hell these guests were.

He sensed that some were Britishers living here on pensions, some college boys on vacation, some gigolos preying on men and women alike, some bored people willing to try anything, and others the type to be found in every country except their own. At one time, long ago, the Americans would have been easy to tell by their height and short haircuts. But the average young European today was quite tall and long hair was a world-wide style. The Germans seemed to have newer clothes, the Italians were easy to spot because of their well-cut suits and air of conceit. The French, of course, were bored, having been to many parties like this.

Thus the mob was international, talking in half a dozen tongues, all smoking, drinking, shouting and running through the villa at top speed, smashing glasses, careening into tables and not caring that everything, food, furnishings and pride were scattered in their wake, A tremendous man whose head was square and bald plowed through the guests like a tank to stand before Hugh. He wore a uniform, the origin of which was not easy to identify.

"I have been watching you." His accent was guttural, somewhat Balkan.

"I hope you like what you see."

"Indeed. How would you like to be in films?"

"Are you a talent scout?"

"A producer. Talent scout! Bah! I make films in Yugoslavia. Westerns. Better than Hollywood. That place, bah!" The big man revealed a mouthful of bad teeth. "You sign a contract with me at once."

Suddenly a girl appeared in their midst. She was tall, round-faced, brown-haired, pretty in a farm-girl way but a little too plump, almost fat. Her breasts were huge balls and her buttocks even huger balls.

"Daddy, are you bullshitting strangers again?"

"Get away from me."

The girl pressed herself against Hugh. First came her stomach, followed by the overlarge, squash able breasts. "My daddy is a terrible liar. He designed that uniform himself. Where he picked up the accent only heaven knows."

"Daddy," somewhat embarrassed at being found out, bowed low, and, still speaking in the guttural Balkan accent, apologized to Hugh, stressing the fact that he had to discuss business with a few actresses.