Bob Katt: Hot 'n juicy Lucy

She looked drugged, the way she sprawled back, with her legs shamelessly wide-flung. I pulled my chair up close until my knees were touching her chair. I slid my hands under her buttocks, lifted and pulled her towards me. She slid lower in the chair and her bottom rested on my thighs. Her legs hung down either side of me and her hairy crotch was within easy reach. Her cunt gaped, steaming and giving off it's pungent, intoxicating aroma. Long black hairs clung to it like a treacle curtain. I parted the hairs, stroked-them upwards and pressed them flat over her groin and abdomen. A lot of the hairs that lined her slit were snarled up inside it. I drew them out and smoothed them over her thighs. When all the hairs were smoothed away I got my first good look at her crevice.

What a gorgeous cunt! My blood boiled. Her outer love-lips were swollen up ripely with desire, all creamy-skinned and burning. She had a little orgasm when I took them firmly between fingers and thumbs and pulled them apart. Her inner love-lips were stuck to them and came apart at the same time. They looked like thick rose petals with crinkly edges. I ran a tantalizing forefinger around and around the crinkly edges. It slithered sweetly in the hot juice and her loins pistoned gently in response to the stroking. It was a lovely pussy to fondle. It was so sensitive, and thrilled so easily, my excitement was continually soaring. Merely whispering the tip of my finger around the crinkly edges of her love-lips made her come. When I gripped them with fingers and thumbs, and strained them apart with increasing pressure, she had a monster orgasm. When it was over her crotch looked even bigger. It gaped open like double-doors, her love-lips sagging weakly on their hinges. The mushy interior was big enough to sink my fist into.

It was her idea we play with each other. I was happy for her to have all the orgasms, and I enjoyed playing with her. But it was also self-teasing. I had a tremendous erection. My cock was trapped tight inside my pants and the bastard drooled with glee, convinced that all this stimulation must end in climatic ecstasy.

What a pussy! Spread open Mice an enormous mussel! I ran my fingers around inside it as though scooping cream out of a cup. Its slippery hotness made my prick twitch. I stirred her up, whisking my fingers around busily. She gasped and panted and her hips jerked every time I fingered an extra-sensitive spot. Her loins pistoned and her belly sucked in and out. I whisked faster and her pistoning loins pumped out love drool in a steady trickle.

I stirred her up like pastry in a pudding basin. She was working up to another climax and I could tell by the way her muscles tautened that it would be a big one. I wanted it to be a big one. I kept whisking. My fingers became an eggbeater. Love-juice foamed, frothed and squelched, its slippery texture thickening to cloying stickiness. Foam lathered up around the rim of her pussy while my stirring-up fingers met increasing resistance as the mixture thickened. It was almost clotted when she climaxed.

It was a bronco-bucking climax. Her loins reared up and lunged forward so powerfully her crotch hit my stomach. She rammed it against me with powerful bearing-down movements that almost forced me backwards off my chair. I grabbed her buttocks and clamped her crotch against me to help keep upright.

What an orgasm! She had at least a dozen long, convulsive spasms. Each time, hotness scalded my skin. When she finally collapsed, sprawling weakly with her pussy stuck right under my nose, my shirt was drenched with drool. It was such a mighty orgasm it finished her. She lay limply. Her limbs were as heavy as lead. It was a long time before her shuddering gasps eased to deep breathing.

I wanted to play with her again. She wouldn't let me. She sprawled limply on my lap for all of five minutes before she disentangled herself, found a hand-towel in my desk drawer and mopped up, "That was gorgeous, Mike!" Her beautiful eyes were dreamy and her flushed cheeks radiated happiness.

"It's a lovely pussy," I said sincerely. "Let me fondle it again."

"Not right now, Mike. Anyway, now I want to do you!"

She safeguarded against interruptions. She wiped away the drool on her hairy calves and thighs and smoothed down her dress. She wrapped up her gooey panties in a towel and put them away in a drawer. Then she drew up a chair and sat down alongside me.

"I'm going to tantalize you exquisitely, Mike," she promised.

I sprawled back happily and my prick yelled 'Tip-pee!" It was already so excited my pants threatened to split as it strained erect.

"Look at him," she cooed. "Isn't he patient? Quietly simmering all this time, waiting for his turn!" She touched its knob lightly with her forefinger. Even through my pants it felt like the kiss of an angel's wing.

"I love making a fuss of you," she confided. "I feel nice and dreamily relaxed now, so I don't want you to touch me. Yet. But I love making you excited." Her fingers rested lightly upon the shaft of my prick and gently slid it up and down. My prick twitched and throbbed. "Nice?" she asked.

"Like you said. It's tantalizing pleasure."

"It's nice for me too," she said dreamily. "I press my thighs tightly together while I'm doing it. It's groovy."

"Can't I slide my hand up your leg?"

"Not yet, darling. It's nice as I am. Just a gentle thigh-squeezing." Her fingers went to my belt, pulled, and unbuckled. Deft fingers snapped open the top button, my zip opened down to my groin and my fly sprang open. A white Jack-in-a-box tent sprang out through the opening.

"I daren't pull down your trousers, Mike. Somebody might call. It's different for me. All I have to do is stand up and shake down my skirts. You'd have a terrible job with this monster tangled up in your underclothes.' "Don't worry," I soothed her. "We're not fucking. It's simply playtime."

Her hand went to the rounded crown of the tent. Her palm descended squarely upon it and circled around softly. The tent grew another two inches and the fabric strained to splitting.

"It's burning hot, Mike," she said dreamily. "Even when it's all swathed up."

"It doesn't have to be," I pointed out.

"But I do want to tantalize you, darling." She used her forefinger, gently scratching its nail around and around the top of the tent. The sensations communicated to my knob through the material of my jockey-shorts were delirious.

"I'll make you come very slowly, Mike."

"Fine," I murmured. My eyes were shut and my face imbecilic with joy as delicate nail-scratching tantalized me with excruciating exquisiteness.

"I'll work you up slowly. I want this big monster throbbing and swimming in love-juice. I want all its lovely, hot cream spurting into my mouth and flowing down my throat. All those gorgeous vitamins swelling me up with desire."

She was talking herself into a little orgasm. Her chair creaked rhythmically as she squeezed her thighs together. There was the squishy sound of wet love-lips rubbing against each other, and the smell of cunt was suddenly very pungent again.

Her fingers pried coyly, found the trap to my jockey-shorts and stole inside. They circled around, rustling the short-and-curlies as her finger and thumb opened like pincers. They found the fleshy stub of the root of my cock, and closed around it. My prick quivered mightily, threatening to tear out through the roof of the tent. Her fingers and thumb slid up the shaft until they could grasp it firmly. "It's so powerful it's frightening, Mike," she whispered.

I grunted. I wasn't in the mood to talk. I relaxed in the arms of sweet sensations.

She used her other hand to pry the tent pole out from within the tent. The traps of jockey-shorts are made so a flabby prick can be easily extracted from its lair. But my bastard prick was standing at attention, and pulling it out through the trap got it tangled up and half-throttled. Janet wrestled grimly but only succeeded when my jockey-shorts split. That was an advantage because when she tucked them down under me, my balls as well as my cock were starkly exposed.