Bill Balle - Passion's her game

He reached around her, too, and felt the nipples rise to hardened points; then he entered her wet, eager cunt for a second time, and they moved together as they rolled in the close confines of the narrow couch, oblivious to the world around them, or the fact that Toni was still watching it all from her own office window. They worked and bounced and fought deliriously with each other, humping and ramming each other's furry pelvis up and down in search of a new pleasure, a new angle of thrill

They switched positions again, and she opened her thighs, and Gino combed his cock through the soft, curly hairs, and Wendy flinched into a new orgasm. She pulled her knees wide apart, placed a forefinger along either side of her cunt, spreading her labia as he again lowered his weight into the cradle of her upraised thighs.

A half-whispered scream poured from Wendy's lips and her thighs jerked spastically against his hips, her face screwed into a mask of passion.

Gino eased forward for a final time and, in a single gliding stroke and thrust, he sent the full, ribbed length of his hard cock into the juicy hotness of Wendy's tremulous belly.

Her arms and legs seized him, and she slithered the pink length of her tongue between his lips, while he added that little extra forceful hunch that drove the angle of it with a new, firm pressure against her clit, knocking small puffing nasal grunts from deep inside her, her inner cunt muscles clamping on his invading cock in one final, furious come.

Toni still watched, getting the feeling she was learning what it was all about; no wonder sex was such an important part of most people's lives, she thought. He strained his eyes to see if Wendy was moving. She wasn't.

Stretched out beside her. on the couch, Gino gave a warm little chuckle. He said, "You know, I've been wanting you for a long time, Wendy. But I never figured there was even the ghost of a chance. I had definitely figured you for the iceberg type, strictly frigid. How wrong can a guy be?"

"Maybe not so wrong," she told him. "That's the way I am ninety-nine per cent of the time. This was-well-just a freak sort of thing."

"I know," he said. "You got all excited, watching those two dykes in the hotel room across the street, didn't you?"

She felt a hot flush steal over her body. Almost angrily, she said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, okay," he said. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay with me."

She then got up, picked up the remnants of her clothing and held them in front of her, shielding herself a little. "Let's get one thing straight right now, Gino," she said. "As far as I'm concerned, this never happened. Don't get any ideas about it making any change in our business relationship. You understand?"

He looked surprised, then answered ruefully, "Well, sure, sure, Wendy. If that's the way you want it."

"That's the way I want it," She turned and walked toward her private office lavatory, which held a shower and a closet in which she kept extra clothing. She went inside and showered and fixed her hair and put on some new clothes.

When she came out, Gino Lentini was dressed again. He was standing by her desk. He said, "What did you think of those changes I made in the new lipstick copy?"

"I think they helped," she said, a little absently. "Sharpened the message a little."

"I have some other things I'd like to check through with you. I've had some problems getting an okay from some of the movie stars we had lined up for endorsements."

Wendy put the back of her hand to her forehead, closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "Look, Gino, I'm pooped tonight. Let's go over the whole thing in the morning, all right?"

He nodded agreement and picked up several letters he had previously put on her desk. "Good enough," he said hesitantly. He looked at her, his eyes admiring the way her fine large breasts bulged the bodice of her dress. "Look," he said softly. "Can I give you a ride home? Or maybe we can stop and I'll buy you a drink somewhere."

"No. No, thank you," she refused.

He shrugged and turned away, heading for the door. "Good night, Wendy."

"Good night, Gino."

Toni waited until after Wendy had left to slip out of her office. As she passed Gino's desk she noticed Wendy had left him an unsealed note. It contained, she found, a one-month separation check and the news that he would be a gentleman if he was gone by the time Wendy returned from her selling trip.

Wendy Moore stirred sleepily, then groaned as her sore, tortured muscles cried out in protest to her movements. Slowly she became aware of her condition, her mind suddenly flashing back to vividly recall what had happened to her the night before.

She had been so sure she could handle the two men she had allowed to pick her up in the bar of the motel where she was staying. Both of the men had been drunk and Wendy teased them unmercifully, laughing at their fumbling passes, leading them on and tempting them. She danced with both of them, promising everything with subtle movements of her beautiful body, then holding them at bay as they tried to urge her to leave with them.

When she first started her little game with the two men, she fully intended leaving with one of them, wanting the love, the excitement of a man. It was only when both of them became crude and disgustingly drunk, that she gave up on any plans of going to bed with either of them and began her cynical game of tease and torture. Wendy was a ripely formed woman, her figure lush and firm, fully equal to any female fifteen years younger. Having lost her husband in an auto accident soon after her marriage, she tried to mask the hurt and aching void left in her life by building her career, steadfastly refusing ever to leave herself open for such hurt again by re-marrying. The years of hard work were paying off, but her mirror constantly reminded her of the price she was paying. Her face, though still hauntingly beautiful, was showing the first lines of aging. Tiny feather-like lines etched at the corners of her mouth and eyes, faint, barely discernible furrows in her brow, telltale evidence that all women hated and feared. Wendy, however, managed to hide her advance into maturity better than most, being an expert in the field of cosmetology.

Even before her marriage, she had worked with the leading cosmetologists of both the United States and Europe, working constantly with the hundreds of cosmetics, trying endless blends and new formulas, always seeking the magic concoction that would preserve not only her own beauty, but that of the countless women that would pay millions for such a secret. She was quick to prove her ability and before long many of her cosmetic discoveries were being sold through her employers. Being ambitious as well as brilliant in her field, she soon saw the vast sums of money being made from her products and she confronted her company for a larger share of that money. Since all of her discoveries were automatically the property of the company, they saw no reason to knuckle under to the demands of such a brash young woman, and Wendy soon found herself out of a job. Bitter, and with burning desire to prove herself, she turned down the many offers from other companies and launched her own cosmetic firm.

It had been hard going. Her products were good, exceptionally good, but without the national advertising, or the vast chain of distributors, selling them was something else. But little by little, she was on her way, although it took all these countless trip around the country to push her products to the nose-in-the-air purchasing agents.

She thought she was through with the two drunks when she excused herself to go to the rest room, then slipped up to her room on the elevator. Not so.

They had followed her, used the stairway, and literally broke the lock on her motel room door. She had prepared her face with all the usual creams she carried in her case, a ritual she adhered to every night of her life. This is how the two drunks found her as they came bursting in.