Staci Peters - Every Man For Anne

"Open up," Silke commanded him.

Russ opened his mouth and Silke screwed the moist panties into a tiny bail which she slowly pushed into his mouth. She crossed the room to the table on which were the remnants of their private candlelight dinner. She picked up one of the long yellow candles and came back to Russ.

Silke tugged down his Y-fronts and held his rigid cock between two fingers. "Why, you don't even measure up to this candle."

There was a chair by the bedside and Silke flopped into it. She straddled one leg over each arm and displayed her slick pussy before the frustrated Russ.

"Now watch carefully, she ordered. Slowly she inched the candle up her cunt. She threw her head back and ground her hips in the chair. Russ mumbled tough the delicious stuffing in his mouth. He pleaded to be allowed to fuck her. Silke paid no attention. Her stomach muscles were taut with anticipation. Her climax came with a shudder that trembled through her whole body. She wanted it never to stop.

Silke rocked her hips even faster as the orgasm exploded within her. Suddenly she was back… she was lying on the chesterfield… she had two fingers working in her cunt while with the other hand she rubbed her clit. Silke removed her fingers and almost absent-mindedly began licking them. That was good, she thought but I wish I was sucking a big, long cock right now.

She reached back behind her and clicked on the light. She placed the phone on the coffee table and flopped back on the couch, then she dialed Greg's number.

"Hello," he answered after two rings.

"Hi, Greg… it's Silke."

"How are things going?!"

"Pretty well. I finished that paper I was working on."

"Great. Do you want to go out now? Or is it too late?"

"Well, why don't you come over here?"

"Sure… be there in ten minutes."

Silke hung up. She was enjoying college life in America. This seemed to be one place where you could have your cake and eat it too.

New Concord was a growing town. Year after year, slowly but always steadily, this quiet college town expanded. And George Weston's fortunes rose with the development of New Concord. Weston had been the senior partner in a building supplies company, which had prospered as the community enlarged.

The University had a long-established reputation which was further enhanced by the addition of two new colleges, and then in the sixties New Concord had been chosen as the site for the Institute for Advanced Computer Technology. That was another windfall for Weston's company. They had also just completed the contract to help build the new Center for Military Studies, a steel-and-glass structure carefully blended with the more traditional architecture that surrounded it. New Concord had indeed been good to George Weston and his family.

Larry, Anne's elder brother, had left for England. Father and son had an easygoing relationship, founded on trust if not mutual understanding. Larry was an excellent student of political science, but George Weston confessed that he never could figure out what his son saw in rock music. It was another important way of putting across basic political truths, Larry told him often enough. It was the surest way to communicate with other young people. George would shake his head every time no matter how carefully Larry tried to explain it; still, better that he should be involved with his own rock band than hot-rodding round the gravel pits or aimlessly hanging around the bar at the Excelsior Hotel like so many of the other kids. And besides, George was secretly proud of his son. After all, he had managed to earn enough playing at high school dances and Christmas patties to pay much the larger part of his tuition fees at the University of New Concord. Now that sort of get-up-and-go, that kind of self-reliance, was something George did understand, and he was especially pleased to see it in his boy.

Larry had graduated the year before, and had immediately left to hitchhike around Europe with Jim Cavendish, his best friend and the drummer in their band, before commencing graduate studies at the London School of Economics. "He'll make out all right," George often told his wife Jean, "and we can't hold it against him if he doesn't want to join my arm." Perhaps deep down inside George Weston was just a little disappointed that Larry didn't want to take over from him, but he was wise enough to know that he had no right to upset Larry's ambitions by forcing him to work in building supplies.

With no one to whom he could pass on his share of Weston, Hawthorn, and Smith, George decided to retire early, much to the delight of his wife. "I'll just see how it suits me," he had said, "and if I get bored I'll start up another little business of my own." He'd always been a keen stamp and coin collector and at the back of his mind was the idea of a small philately dealership in New Concord. There was no competition and he'd already picked out a possible spot. In the new Parkside Shopping Mall development. "Before you start talking about throwing yourself into another business," Jean had said, "we're going to celebrate by taking that trip we've always talked about."

Jean Weston had a passion for ancient history. Years ago she had taken an undergraduate degree in Classical Studies. The house was full of coffee table volumes on the art and architecture of the ancient world, books on mythology, and novels set in the heroic ages of Greece and Rome. Now with George retiring she had the chance she'd longed for to take a leisurely cruise around her beloved Mediterranean. She planned it all through the cold winter months, pouring over every glossy pamphlet that the travel agent could supply. George left her to it and let Jean arrange the whole thing. His one major suggestion had been that they might return via England so they could stop by and see how Larry was getting on in London.

Anne was looking forward to her parents' holiday almost as much as they were. Not that she had anything particularly wicked in mind, but she knew it would be fun to have the run of the house for a whole summer. George and Jean Weston had debated what they should do about leaving Anne all to herself for three months and finally decided they should do absolutely nothing. "DO her good to look after herself for a while," George had said, "it'll build up her self-confidence, just you see." "Of course it'll be all right," Jean finally agreed. "And it's not as if she'll be all alone for she'll always have Silke for company."

Silke Sommers had arrived in New Concord the year before. She'd come over from Munich to get her first degree at an American college. Her father, a wealthy manufacturer, fully realized the value of fluency in English and an understanding of the American outlook; after all, his business success was founded on it. Silke had met the Westons in her first week at New Concord. Now that Larry was away they had decided to finish a minor conversion to the basement and rent it out to a girl student. Jean thought it would be nice for Anne to have a companion who would also be a next-door neighbor, as it were, and Silke was certainly no disappointment it suited the German girl admirably, as quiet tree-lined Russell Avenue where the Westons lived was only an eight-minute walk from the campus. She'd taken an immediate liking to Anne and the two had become firm Mends. Although Silke was taking History and German, an easy option for her, she'd enrolled in Creative Writing as an elective in order to share at least one class with Anne. Anyway, it was a good opportunity to practice and develop her own expression in English.

The two girls had driven George and Jean out to the airport to see them off, and on the way back they'd daydreamed wildly about all they were going to do now they had the place to themselves. Actually, very little changed, as both Anne and Silke worked hard on completing their college year successfully. They'd both picked courses that stressed participation, seminar work, and take-home essay exams, so that neither of them had finals to face once classes were over. Of course, it hadn't been all work and no play. Silke didn't have to kick Greg out early since there was no one, to see her boyfriend's coming and going. And Anne reveled in the freedom of staying in the lounge and letting Bill fuck the pants off her after she'd teased him all evening. Once he was sitting in the big comfy chair in front of the television with his trousers open whilst Anne gently rubbed him off, when Silke came knocking at the connecting door by the stairs. He'd only just tucked, his stiff cock out of sight when Silke strolled into the sitting room. She'd only come up to borrow some tonic water, but it was obvious from the twinkle in her eyes that she guessed just what Anne and Bill were up to. Bill would have been most surprised if he knew that Anne and Silke compared notes on their sexual adventures.