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John Kellerman: Sisters in heat

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John Kellerman Sisters in heat

Sisters in heat: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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"Steve."

He came quickly across to her and, when she stood up, he hugged her.

"It was my fault, Robin. Come on, I'm gonna fix some coffee and then we'll get something to take with us to eat and drive the jeep out to Three Hills. You can drive when we get out of the city."

"Yeah… Okay…" Robin wiped tears with the back of her hand. Steve kissed her hair, patted her shoulder and went back into the tiny kitchenette.

She stood there in the middle of the room, feeling his cum drying on her legs, thinking that she'd never had a boy hug her as tightly as Steve had on the bed that morning. The day was different now. It would always be different from now on. Things would never be the same. Never, never, never.

Marcia sat fingering her gold watch. The one Sam Philbert had given her the week before. She thought of it as a reminder of payments yet to be made. A girl didn't get anything free nowadays. And though Sam could afford it, afford as easily as he had afforded the white Lincoln and his fancy clothes and the big house he'd showed her pictures of… thought he could afford to give away a gold watch, Marcia knew what was coming. She'd known when she'd let him put the soft, glittery band around her thin wrist and fasten it.

She stood up and walked nervously to the window. Her silky dress clung around her waist, crackling with static electricity. She smelled her soapy fresh body and the tinge of fragrant musk she'd applied at her wrists, behind her ears.

Sam was late. Marcia sat down on the couch and lit her second cigarette of the hour.

"Sam not here yet?" her mother said, swishing happily into the room.

"He'll be here soon."

"Oh, I'm sure he will." Her mother sat down across from her. "He's such a nice young man. I wish that your sister would start acting her age, start dating a few boys. She worries me to death."

"Robin's not the type."

"Oh, don't I know that." Her mother patted her greying hair. "It's funny how Robin and Steve were always close and you two girls fought so. I'm only hoping that your sister can talk some sense into that boy's head, get him to come back home."

Marcia stood up, sucked awkwardly at the cigarette. "Don't wait up for me tonight, Mom. Sam said something about keeping me out late."

"Oh?"

"A party. Special kind of party with some friends of his."

"Well, I trust you, Marcia. I always have I guess. Even when you wanted to drop out of college, I told your father that I thought you were smart enough to know what you wanted."

Marcia heard the car pulling up in the drive. She grabbed her sweater. "Night, Mom."

Her mother came over and took her gently by the shoulders.

"Marcia… I… well I never talked to you must about what girls should know… about men. I just hope that you use good sense… you know what I mean."

"Everything's all right, Mom." She leaned forward to kiss the wrinkled, slightly damp forehead. "Everything's just fine."


***

They were just sliding onto the freeway before Sam turned to look at her. He smiled.

Marcia smiled back. His dark hair hung in heavy curls over his forehead. He was older than he looked. Or maybe his age didn't matter, his physical age anyway. She could see him as a boy, the kind of kid that had dirty pictures and showed off the dirty rubber he carried to the others. The boy who talked incessantly about pussy and cunt. Talked about it in a twisted, vulgar way.

For an instant Marcia wondered why she had let Sam put that damned gold watch on her wrist the weekend before. Four dates they'd had. Four too many. She was in over her head now. She was trembling. She clasped her fingers together.

"You smell like something against the law, baby." Sam's eyes were shining like snake eyes. "I thought I'd stop by my room at the Hilton and we'd have a little drink before going over to the party. You hungry for anything?"

"No." She'd said it too quickly, too tightly.

Sam took an exit ramp. The streetlights were on and Marcia could see the twinkling glitter of neons beginning to change the night.

A doorman met the car at the hotel entrance, bowed courteously when Sam pushed a five-dollar bill into his palm. Marcia was watching the Lincoln glide away to the parking ramp when Sam squeezed her elbow and pulled her against him.

An evening wind caught her long brown hair and blew it back from her face. Sam looked at her like his mouth was about to water. She thought of the room they were heading for, thought of how it would be as the elevator doors cinched closed behind them. When the indicator read floor ten, Sam let his fingers slip down over her hip, down to the firm swell of her ass. The silk dress warmed to his touch. She gasped as a finger pressed into the crevice of her buttocks.

"Sam… not now."

Marcia knew she was purer than Sam thought she was. She had been fucked by only one other man in her life. In the back seat of a car. A drive-in movie. She'd been nineteen. Her broken cherry had bled for an hour and the pain.

Sam's fingers squeezed her arm.

"Here's our floor, baby… something wrong?"

She stared at the hallway, the red carpet, the silent closed doors. Then she let him pull her from the elevator and down the hall. Her knees felt like rubber. She was faint and weak.

"Come on," Sam breathed against her ear, opening the door. "Come on inside and relax…"


***

"You'd better fill this for me," Marcia said, holding her empty glass up.

The drink had helped a lot. She wanted more help. She was sweaty under the arms. Her silk dress made her skin feel tingly and strange. Damned new dress. She wished she'd worn a bra. But she didn't own one. How damned silly. What was wrong with her anyway? She was a big girl now. She could control things.

Sam came across the room. He never made any noise when he walked. Like a snake. He sat beside her and she took the glass from him. He put his lips against the side of her neck while she sipped. She didn't react, held her senses back… tried not to feel the hard, hot tip of his tongue.

"Mmmmm, that tickles."

Sam curved a hand around the top of her thigh where the silk dress ended. Her skin crawled. He had his jacket off, shirt unbuttoned. Marcia could see the thick, dark chest curls, could smell his cologne. Not a bad smell. She couldn't look into his eyes.

"You have the body and face of a model," he said, whispering into her ear. She felt him trace the outline of her ear with his tongue. "But I told you that last week, didn't I?"

"Yes." She dared to let him see her eyes for a moment.

"You have nice eyes too."

Marcia got up and smoothed the dress on her hips. She downed the drink suddenly, almost choking on it. Sam stood behind her, his arms pulled her back against his body. She felt that stiffness in his pants. It was arranged so that it jutted up between the silk-covered halves of her ass. Funny how she felt that.

"You seem nervous. Maybe I'd better help you calm down a little."

His mouth was on the back of her neck. He was holding her long hair up so he could get to it good. Marcia closed her eyes and tried to breathe evenly, tried to think of nothing at all. His tongue snaked wetly against her skin. She felt the instinctive excitement.

He was pulling her back hard against his hardness. She felt his prick pressing deeper into her asscrack. She moved slightly to free herself, but Sam only grunted and held her tighter. He was working on her ear now, biting the lobe.

"I think you're about ready to have a little fun, sweetheart…" His fingers smoothed her flat belly, searched down a thigh for the edge of the silk dress, found it and hooked under. The inside of her thigh burned wherever his fingers traced. She sighed aloud now. She didn't want him to do it, but she sighed.

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