by Che ©
After the girls left to go shopping, Michael had hung around the pool.
Morning sun had climbed in the sky, and almost every chair and chaise
was occupied. Walking over to the bar, he'd ordered a Bloody Mary,
grabbed a towel from the supply cupboard and walked back out to the pool.
The film-maker was frowning petulantly, most likely because of Marla's
absence.
"Would you like some sun-screen?"
It was a pleasant feminine voice. Turning, he found Venessa standing next to him, a tube of sunscreen in her hand.
"Here. I use this on my face and other places I don't want to burn. You're welcome to use it if you'd like. You need to take care of the skin on your face. It's different than the rest of your skin."
"Thanks," Michael smiled, taking the tube. "My nose gets a little red."
"And let ME get your drinks," Venessa smiled, standing closer. "That's my job."
"Sorry, I didn't see you when I wanted one," Michael smiled back, eyes enjoying edible femininity. "Actually . . . I was hoping you were here . . . "
"Really?" she almost blushed, dropping large soft-green eyes before looking up. "Where did your two companions go?"
Rubbing lotion on face and shoulders, Michael methodically worked the off-white cream into dry skin. Closing the top, he handed the tube back to the very attractive young waitress.
"They went shopping. Beverly Hills. If I know them, they'll be back late."
Venessa was still blushing and he felt certain there was a mutual attraction.
"Well," he gestured vaguely, "guess I'll try and find a place to lie down. Looks like the place is busy again."
"We're almost full," she offered. "They hadn't expected such a mid-week crowd. They'd given me the day off."
She watched for his reaction to that bit of information. The look wasn't lost on him. He stirred his drink with the celery stick.
"You have day off? Do you have anything planned?"
He bit-off the end with a snappy crunch.
"No . . . " Venessa looked down, "nothing special."
"Maybe lunch?" he asked, grinning with boyish charm.
She blushed again.
"That won't cause problems?" she asked, eyebrow curved. "The two girls?"
"When do you get off?" he smiled.
Reddening even more to the 'get off' remark, she turned her face so he couldn't see her blush, then answered his question.
"One," she smiled, trying best to keep a straight face. "Lunch sounds wonderful. What do you like to eat?"
Michael grinned, and her face became redder.
"Where do you live?" he asked, sipping the iced drink.
"Real close." She couldn't stop blushing now matter how hard she tried, knowing she was well on the way to being seduced. "I walk to work."
"Well, why don't we stop by your place before lunch, that is, if you plan to go home first. I'm a good body guard. Yours is a body worth guarding."
Succumbing to the compliment, Venessa blushed bright-red.
"You're too kind. I bet you say that to all the girls you meet."
"Not unless they deserve it," Michael grinned back, response completely genuine.
On occasion he could be accused of being falsely complimentary, but in this case the compliment was well deserved.
"I'll come find you when I punch-out," she smiled. "Catch a bit of sun while you have the chance."
"Think I'm do a few laps and then change," he waived. "I'll be back down here at one . . . "
When the elevator door opened, Venessa was waiting by the pool. Michael joined her as they headed for the lobby.
"Seafood? Salad bar?" he queried. "What's the magic ingredient in your diet? Whatever it is, keep eating it."
She knew the answer to that, and reddened again as he opened the door for her. They walked briskly toward the strip in stride, neither speaking. After a minute or two, she broke the silence.
"I live one block down that way and three blocks up from Sunset. An old duplex. The twenties. Southern California Spanish. Lots of old palms and Birds of Paradise, potted plants, too. Beautiful old balconies . . . it's a two story Mexican tile and wood floor building. I love it! Big windows. Lots of light. I painted the place white when I moved in. The last tenant painted the walls a zillion different colors but white seemed more appropriate. I like using lots of pillows and plants to add color."
When the light changed to 'walk', they crossed the street.
"God, listen to me babble. I sound like a Realtor. Let me open my mouth and I can go all day!"
Michael had high hopes. Turning north, they walked up a steep hill away from traffic. The place was nestled between two other old homes. He smiled when she opened the door.
"I like it. I could get used to living in a place like this. You have great taste!"
Tossing her bag on a chair, she waived him through the high-ceiling paver-tiled entry, smiling at his last compliment.
"Make yourself at home. I'm going to get out of these work-clothes. Be back down in a flash!" Pausing, she turned on some music, Acoustic Alchemy, one of his favorite albums. "If you want a beer or some juice, help yourself. You know where to find it."
Strolling through the living room, he checked out the dining room and kitchen, walked out on the balcony and watched cars streaming-down Sunset. It was warm on the balcony, its southern exposure letting in sunlight and pacific breezes, tastefully arranged with lushly planted Mexican pots and two old wicker chairs. Real charm. Leaning over the wooden balcony, he looked down at the stairs winding through an overgrown garden between the old buildings. Nice place, he acknowledged to himself. Turning, he walked back into the living room. Music wasn't loud enough to cover the sounds of an upstairs shower, but that sound stopped and a door opened somewhere above.
"If you want to see the second floor, just explore. I'm not the shy type so don't worry about getting in my way."
Humming to the tune as he turned the banister, he took stairs two at a time. Sunlight filled the second floor, streaming-in through high white-framed glass, walls a gallery for intriguing paintings, posters and photos. One caught his eye immediately; a large photo of two females in a most erotic setting, limbs entwined seductively head to toe. One figure was most certainly was Venessa. A painting nearly twice the size of the photo clearly depicted a semi-nude figure of a woman between the legs of a Satyr-like figure, leaving little to the imagination about what she was doing to the lecherous creature. Grasping long auburn hair in one hand, his other held onto an overhead limb, sensuous face mirroring the pleasure her mouth was providing.
"I collect erotic art." Venessa's voice made him jump. "There are more in my room if you enjoy that kind of thing."
He turned to see her nude figure disappearing into a room, bedroom most probably, so he followed her invitation. Almost as large as the living room, music softly filled its space like the sunlight through its windows. High domed ceiling and dappled plant-leaf reflections across floors gave the bedroom an almost mystical veil. Walls were hung with framed photos and paintings, each a highly erotic subject. Everywhere were scenes of lesbian debaucheries, Romanesque orgies, and sexy Flapper beauties doing overtly sexual things to Gangster-looking companions in the back seats of old sedans. Catching his eye, 1940's pin-ups, scantily clad and not in the usual cheese-cake poses, each depicted young beauties openly masturbating. Above each lovely head, cartoon clouds offered sexy promises to passing observers . . . sexual offers as graphic as their artfully-detailed crotches. Three different Madonna-like blondes wearing erotic costumes were being ravished by dwarfs and freaks; hands, lips and mouths exploring the sexual topography between the mistress's wide spread legs as each blonde fellated a muscular bald-headed half-naked Nubian partner. Another large air-brushed work depicted a redheaded beauty in exactly the same scenario as Michael's video of Leticia. Viewers had the impression they were the man in the picture, the girl's voluptuous mouth filled with a dark thick cock, the expression on her face one of profound ecstasy. He couldn't stop staring until Venessa spoke, her laughter floating out of the bathroom.
"What do you think of my hobby?" Her voice was as soothing as water running over round rocks. "I like visuals as well as books. You aught to see my collection of literary erotica. I think I have at least a hundred first issue printings . . . all collectables. I've been collecting for almost eight years."
Moving through the room, examining each picture, he found himself more aroused by the minute. Even after the exciting morning with the girls, his cock was reminding him of its presence. He stopped when a smaller color-photo near the king size bed caught his eye, a close-up picture of a girl's face. Eyes closed, head tilted back, sensual half-open mouth oozing what could only be semen . . . and in the lower right half of the picture, her hand was visible, its fingers tightly wrapped around the shaft of a very large cum-oozing erection. The face in the photo was Venessa's.
"Some pictures are newer than others," she said, voice close behind him.
Turning, he found her in a costume that made his head spin. Wearing the same kind of satin thong Marla favored, the stunning beauty had a crotch that made his tongue immediately hard. And the same kind of demi-bra, one leaving two very swollen nipples exposed to his lusty gaze. When she turned and walked to the closet, her buns were so firm they hardly quivered. She opened the door, selected a flowered skirt and a white cotton sleeveless blouse, a pair of white high-heel sandals and a small white bag. He watched her dress, short summer skirt soft and flowing around narrow hips, long legs looking even longer in white sandals, low-scooped cotton blouse, a costume giving her quite a European peasant look, a girl perhaps from the south of France?
Trying to clear it, he shook his head.
"Gee . . . I thought I was hungry for lunch. You sure knocked that thought right out of my head."
"Really?" she smiled, alluringly. "What are you hungry for now?"
"I'm so . . . " he cleared his throat and looked at the picture again, "well, your collection certainly gives me a lot of alternative ideas."
Floating to his side, she laughed musically.
"So, you like that one, huh? So do I. That's why I put it so close to the bed. There are three others in the bathroom that are a little more . . . graphic. I think that's the right word. My girlfriends took the pictures on my birthday last year."
Michael gave her a questioning look.
"Male stripper?"
Nodding, she grinned.
"Quite a stud! Twenty-one years old. My girlfriends told me I had to keep the other pictures in the bathroom or I'd get arrested!"
Her laughter was definitely musical. A shiver went through Michael and he took a deep breath.
"Well . . . what's your pleasure? Ready to go?"
Moving closer, she took his hand, looking up into his eyes as though searching for something lost.
"Remember what I said on the way over here; about letting me open my mouth;" (a blush) " well, I'm ready . . . to go down on you!" she grinned, hand moving between his legs to feel the swollen erection. "That picture, and you . . . well, you're both hard for me to ignore!"
"It sure is hard . . . " he almost whispered.
Smiling knowingly, her hand brushed his thigh, fingers teasing inside of his leg, moving up without hesitation. The sound of the fly being unzipped, fingers opening the belt buckle, unbuttoning the waist-band of his pants. One gentle push set him back on the edge of the bed, pants falling around his ankles. Looking down, she smirked.
"You are hard . . . just like I knew you'd be. And I do like that . . . " she nodded toward the photo, "don't you? You're not one of those guys who has to fuck to get off . . . "
Leaning back on his elbows, Michael nodded. Venessa raised an eyebrow.
"Yes . . . I mean, no . . . I don't have to fuck . . . "
Pulling a small pillow from the bed, and kneeling on it between his thighs, Venessa slipped her other hand up under her skirt.
"Actually, 'that's' all I want for lunch," she smiled up at him, seeing him watching her hand between her legs. "Oh . . . you like watching?" When he nodded, she raised her skirt until it was up around her narrow waist. "High enough? Can you see?"
Her hand was down inside the front of her white satin panties moving to a timeless rhythm. He nodded again. She sighed, pleasantly.
"I masturbate a lot," she giggled. "I like to orgasm. It's easy for me to have hundreds. I do it all day long. I bet you didn't know I did it yesterday while you were at the pool and I was back of the bar."
Closing green eyes she shuddered, obviously enjoying a powerful climax. She opened them again.
"The first few just get my motor started," she giggled. "The best ones . . . well, the best ones are when I'm doing 'that'."
She nodded toward the photo again.
"When I open my mouth for one of those . . . "
Standing straight up from his groin, a ruddy cock-crest was oozing crystal tears of pre-cum lubricant. She sighed and swallowed, licking bright-pink lips in anticipation.
"Looks like you're ready. Let me do it. Everything. Don't touch yourself. Just let me. Today, I need to suck." she giggled. "You know; some days I really need a big hard cock in my mouth . . . and just gallons of warm cum to drink! I have this oral fixation. My mother said I was always sucking on something. I don't just want to suck; I want the reward . . . I want to get something for sucking."
He almost cried when she went down, her generous mouth so hot and smooth it felt incredible. Moving slowly but deliberately, and after three slow strokes, she began swallowing, taking him down her throat, tongue fluttering in and out of her mouth like a snake's, stroking the underside of the cock so delightfully he shuddered with passion.
"If you keep sucking like that . . ." he gasped, winding his fingers in tangled red hair, "you'll get something . . . you'll make me cum."
Responsive moans were ones of obvious approval.
"In your mouth. You really want to eat it?"
More moans of approval.
"All right. Suck it . . . let me watch; open your mouth so I can see your tongue. Ooooo, just like that. Hold out your tongue out so I can see my cock on it. Fuck, Venessa, you're too much! God, look at your pink mouth! Suck like that. Yeah! Now, suck again! Get it a little juicy; not too-much saliva; yeah, just like that. Now, fuck it with your mouth. Ohhhh! YEAH! FUCK! Let me feel you rubbing it against the back of your throat. Jesus, Venessa, just like that . . . that's so bitchin' . . . keep sucking . . . " he gasped, "you'll make me cum. I'm going to shoot a HUGE fuckin' load in your mouth! Oh, fuck, you gorgeous little cock-sucker, here it cums! Oh, GAAAAAAAAD!"
Sexy comments made her moan with excitement. Swallowing almost desperately and her orgasm so powerful, two narrow streams of semen shot from her nostrils as cum overfilled the back of her throat.
"Mmmggggggggghhhh!"
She was groaning and gulping down squirting seminal fluids, slurping down warm surges of slightly sweet semen erupting in the back of her grateful throat. Swallowing the first three large spurts before releasing him from cum-coated throat, she masturbated final eruptions over open plump pink lips, cum sloshing into the waiting reservoir of a mouth like waves over a wall on a stormy seashore. Covering her tongue and running into her mouth from her nose, glossing her entire mouth and chin, cum, cum, cum . . . a pearlescent frosting.
"Mmmmm," she moaned, smiling up sensuously, "give it to me, you sexy blue-eyed bastard! Shoot it all in my mouth; mmmmmm; cum's so damn fucking delicious!"
Rubbing her face with the milky discharge, she massaged warm ejaculate into her skin like it was some beauty cream.
"Oh, this is so exciting, Michael. I can't get enough, really. Can you do it again? Some days I just get so horny for the taste of semen, not to mention the act of and sucking. Mmmmmmmm! Sucking a nice big hard cock like yours. God, I must be a, what's the word, nymphomaniac? Honestly, I really can't swallow enough of this sweet thick jism. Well, now you know I'm a cum-lover, Michael! Mmmmmmm, I was born to just suck and swallow!"
Michael considered her request with uncertainty.
"Well . . . " he grinned, sheepishly, "I've cum twice in the last five hours and I'm not sure I can keep up the pace."
"Twice?" she laughed musically, arching an eyebrow. "You are a busy fella! Those two girls must be happy. Tell me about it. How did they make you cum?"
"Really? You want to know?"
"Really. All the details!"
"Well, Leticia woke me up doing what you just did . . . actually they share it; they love kissing with mouthfuls of cum . . . and then after breakfast, Marla sucked me too, but she sat on it before making me cum in her mouth so she could take a load in her cunt while Leticia was licking her clit."
"Mmmmmm! Lucky girls. Can I at least try?" she asked, wide-set green eyes sweetly begging, still masturbating him and her excited clit. "Let me suck you again. Come on," she teased, cupping them in the palm of her hand, "you have another one in these nice warm balls. I know I can make you cum-off again. I need more cum to eat, Michael. Please?"
He could only shrug and she smiled.
"That was a yes?" she giggled, licking grateful lips. "You'll like this one. I get even better once my mouth gets warmed up."
Standing, she dropped her skirt and pulled the blouse off over her russet-haired head.
"It's getting really warm," she blushed, tweaking hard pink nipples. "Plus, you can see lots better, can't you? Just look how long my nipples get when I'm aroused."
Assuming the same position, she shoved her hand into the top of her glossy white panties.
"Clit's ready for this one," she giggled. "I promised it I'd give it this little treat yesterday after you and I talked. I told it I'd make you shoot at least two nice warm loads of cum in my mouth. Don't make a liar out of me."
Cock in hand, she squeezed the shaft and cum bubbled out of the little eye. Licking beautiful cum-glazed lips, she took him back down her throat, a five minute slow motion musical composition as she masturbated herself, humming lightly, sending harmonic vibrations through his large retracted nuts. Recognizing signs of recuperation, she licked her lips and began eagerly sucking Michael to rock hard firmness.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmm, this one's going to be big."
Playing with her nipples while she sucked, he made them so sensitive she was shuddering with pleasure, fellatio masterpiece about to be rewarded with a monumental treat of very heady, aromatic warm semen.
"You're such a fucking gorgeous little cock-sucker!" he chuckled. "I love it, Venessa. Nothing feels as good as getting sucked-off by a girl like you . . . someone I hardly know. Stand up and bend over the side of your bed."
"Why?"
"Don't ask."
She got up and bent over the bed, legs spread in anticipation of what she knew he wanted.
"I'm wet, Michael . . . REALLY wet . . . "
It was a high bed; so high he didn't have to bend his knees as he pulled the satin thong away from her crotch. She was already masturbating, two fingers mashing her clit, pussy lips open like a pink mouth, a thick crystalline glaze on her fingers. He was rigid, and the crest looked so large between the small pussy lips as he placed it against the small open sheath.
"Ooooo, fuck!" he sighed as he leaned over her lovely proud-cheeked ass and felt his erection fill her tight slippery cunt to his balls.
"Ooooo, yes!" she grunted, like someone had driven the breath from her lungs. "Oh, Michael . . . you're so big . . . I'm cuming already, Michael! I'm CUMMMMMMMMMMING! FUCK FUCK FUCK!"
He pulled back and almost withdrew, but drove forward again, into the heat of her femininity, into the smooth slick pleasure of an unfamiliar cunt. The orgasm building in his groin wasn't about to be slowed by any trick of mind-set, it's journey predestined as it raced to leave the throbbing shaft and flood her greedy cunt with its thick sticky gift. At least eight enormous surges of semen pumped into that tight little treasure-box as she quivered in an ongoing orgasm.
Other than pelvic reflexes, neither moved for over five minutes as their breathing slowly returned to normal. He nuzzled her earlobe with his lips. She giggled and wiggled her ass.
"Let me up?" she whispered.
He rolled over. She got up, and hand over her crotch, went into the bath room and came back out with a hand-mirror.
"Want to watch?"
She smiled and spread her beautiful legs wide, holding the mirror between her thighs and six inches below her smooth hairless cunt. Michael sat up on the bed. She spread the baby-smooth lips of her pussy with her other hand and, like a belly-dancer, began a slow grinding motion with her hips.
"Watch . . . "
She was smiling, lust-filled eyes on the surface of the mirror, watching the reflection of her crotch, watching the sudden enormous oyster-size glob of semen ooze from the pink cunt-sheath.
"God . . . "
She must have flexed some internal muscles. Cum gushed from her open pussy in a stream, long swags of it tenaciously clinging to the pulsing sheath, swinging, then landing on the surface of the mirror. A pool of it. At least a half-cup of cloudy pearls quivered on the reflective surface like some kind of milky jelly, the volume appearing twice as large because of the reflection..
"God . . . "
She looked up into Michael's gray-blue eyes, her expression one he hadn't seen before.
"Tell me . . . "
He smiled back and nodded, playing along with her game.
"Lick it up. Use your tongue. Lick all of it up, but let me see before you swallow it . . . "
"Oh, God . . . "
She lifted the mirror and examined the shimmering puddle, tongue doing things to her lips that kept him erect. Still masturbating with the hand she'd used to hold the lips of her pussy open, she raised the mirror to her mouth. Michael got up and stood next to her so he could watch. She did have a long tongue, and used it like a jeweler cleaning a watch-crystal, long slow swipes across the surface to collect the jelly-like semen and convey it into her mouth. It took more than a minute or two for her to lick all of it up. She didn't swallow as she performed what was close to a devotional act. Finally, mouth full, she looked up at Michael and opened her mouth so he could see inside. It really was a mouthful of cum.
"Open your mouth. Open wide . . . hold out your tongue."
She did.
"Swallow it," he said, the pulse in his temples like someone beating a drum.
She did, eyelids fluttering as though she was about to faint. She swallowed for almost a minute.
"Oh, yeah! What a hot little cock-sucker. Yeah! Look at yourself in the mirror! Oh, yeah! That was too good. I thought about cuming-off in your mouth yesterday when you were bending over. I could see that deep cleft of your pussy right through your panties. I knew I wanted to fuck you. I knew you were one of those hot little cock-suckers, that you wanted me to see your little pussy; you wanted to make my dick hard. You wanted to suck me off the first time you saw me, didn't you? I love getting strange head from beautiful young girls, and, Vennesa . . . I definitely loved fucking your beautiful little cunt."
"Hearing you talk like that makes me so hot, Michael. Let me suck you off again. You're hard again . . . please. You want me, don't you? You want to see me do it."
She was back down on her knees and sucking his cock before he could answer. She didn't slow down until he grabbed her by her hair.
"Watch. Look in your big mirror. You can watch, too. Here I cum. Oh, FUCK! What a fucking nasty girl! You’re making me crazy!"
"Mmmmmmmm, she moaned sensuously, shuddering with fierce pleasure, upturned eyes registering immense satisfaction, watching the oral spectacle in her bedside mirror.
Swallowing the eruption, glowing with lusty pleasure, she was a cum-swallowing slut, sensuous face bathed in a generous discharge of heady thick sex.
"Give it to me! Shoot it in my mouth . . . mmmmmmm, you sexy bastard! It's so fucking delicious! This is so fucking exciting," she blubbered, semen pearls all over her lips, "sucking off a complete stranger. Did you like watching your semen going in my mouth? Don’t you just love that? Could you see me swallowing it? I could, too. That's why I love mirrors!"
Having caught the last five spurts in the palm of her hand, and after examining the cloudy treasure as though it were some exotic elixir, she licked up the puddle until she'd swallowed more than half.
"You're delicious," she smirked, licking opulent lips. "I love the scent of your semen; it’s better than musk. What an aphrodisiac."
Sighing, she slipped her cum-coated palm into the crotch of her satin panties, masturbating slowly, rubbing ejaculate between smooth pussy-lips and over her swollen clit.
"You're right, Michael. I wanted to suck you off when I brought you your drink at the pool. That's why I masturbated back of the bar. I could watch you and think about making you cum in my mouth, about tasting and swallowing your cum. I'm a shameless hedonistic slut."
"I knew it," smirked Michael, touching her nipple, the contact making her jerk. "You made me wanta cum in your mouth when I first saw you . . . you made me so stiff when I looked up your skirt. I wanted to get behind you and slid my cock up that sweet little cunt. I really wanted to fuck you. You wanted me to look, didn’t you?
"Why do you think I stood so close? I almost did this while standing there. I like this, too," she giggled, making herself climax with her palm-full of semen, taking his half-hard cock back down throat. "Oh, Michael," she panted, letting the deflating cock slip from cum-drenched lips, "I'm cuming so good! I haven't cum this good for so long! God! A big mouthful of warm cum was all I needed, plus a palm-full for masturbating! This is heaven, Michael! It's no secret I fucking love drinking men's cum! I hope your girlfriends don't get mad a me for stealing your essential male fluids. I hope they love swallowing your semen as much as I did. I hope I get to swallow more."
Catching her face, he pulled her to him, kissing her passionately as she masturbated to another orgasm. Kissing timelessly, birds sang, and somewhere downstairs, a clock struck musically.
"Okay, I was kidding. Let's have lunch," she smiled. "I enjoyed your appetizers more than you'll ever know. Maybe we can come back here for dessert. Perhaps I have something you'd like to eat! I know you have something I want more of and haven't yet had my fill!"
Eating in a cozy little cafe on Sunset, Michael filled her in on his relationship with the girls. By the time they'd finished, they'd made a splendid plan to get the girls to visit her apartment without him that night. Leaning back in the seat, he wiped his mouth with a white napkin.
"Honest, I couldn't do it again today if you paid me a million. I'm going to get a good night's sleep, but I want you to call me early in the morning so we can all go to breakfast together. I have no doubt the three of you will have an exciting evening. It'll give me time to recuperate. Three women are hard to keep up with," he chuckled, raising eyebrows just like she did, "but I'm doing my best."
Leaning across the table, she kissed him sweetly on the lips.
"You're doing fine," she smiled, tenderly. "I'm so glad your girlfriends are not only beautiful but bi. I hope you won't take this personally, but for me oral sex with girls is just fabulous. It has nothing to do with anything but the vibration between females. I adore the taste and scent of semen, but I'd nearly die for a taste of a randy young girl’s cunt!" she blushed, licking incredibly kissable lips. "I hope you don't think poorly of me because I say what's on my mind. When I'm in the mood for a man, nothing else satisfies that need but a man. It's the same with women. I look forward to getting to know your girlfriends." She took a drink of ice tea. "How old is Marla? She looks so young, yet somehow so mature."
"She'll be twenty next month. Leticia's twenty-two. Marla was a make-up and hair model when we met. Anyway, she's not doing it any more."
"They're both absolutely gorgeous! God, pretty teenage girls make my mouth water! That Leticia has a fantastic body for such a small woman. She and Candi must be almost the same size. I've fantasized about getting into her little panties."
"That makes at least two of us," grinned Michael, signing the check and putting his credit card back in his wallet. "I know I'm not supposed to ask, but how old are you?"
"Twenty-one. My birthday's in October. How old are you, Michael?"
"Thirty-three."
"You look much younger. Salt and pepper hair? When did you start turning gray?"
"Around twenty . . . my dad's hair did it, too. Genes, I guess. Women say it makes me look older."
"More interesting, maybe . . . more attractive, for sure. It's one of the things that caught my eye; that, and your obvious growing interest in me."
"You noticed."
"I almost got down on my knees when I saw it," she smirked, finishing her tea. "You're a virile handsome specimen of the male animal. Just watching you makes my panties wet."
Michael stood and helped with her chair and they walked out onto noisy Sunset. "You were thirteen when you started your collection?"
"Mmmmmm-hmmmmmm. Right after I sucked my first cock."
They looked at each other and laughed. Venessa took Michael's arm.
"We'll have a wonderful evening together and I won't mention our afternoon lunch unless you don't care. Here's my phone number. Tell the girls to call me. I'll be home."
After walking her back home, Michael gave her a kiss at the door, just like a high school date.
"Remember, when I want a man in my bed," she smiled, "I can't imagine finding one better than you. You gave me just what I was hoping for and I can't tell you how much I enjoy giving you head and swallowing your sweet cum. Don't even think about doing me now. Lunch left me too full to enjoy sex, plus I'm saving that for tonight. You can have a taste later," she smiled, letting him put his hand up under her dress and lightly caress the juicy cleft in her satin crotch with knowing fingers.
"You want me to come back?"
"I want you to cum in my mouth and my cunt," she smiled, slowly extending her tongue, "and I want you to lick my . . . how did you describe it? 'My deep cleft'. That's right. I want to see how good you lick 'cleft'."
"I'd like to lick it right now; while it's juicy. You're cunt is covered with my cum." His fingers were making her squirm. "I'd like to lick all of your crotch . . . "
"You mean, like what Marla got this morning? What you did to me over the side of my bed?"
"Did you enjoy that? I was thinking about what Marla loves . . . "
"Well; I'm still an anal virgin . . . but who knows what I'd do if someone like you made me hot enough . . . "
"My tongue is very persuasive."
"God, Michael . . . you really like analingus? Really? I'll just DIE from pleasure! I hope you're not teasing me."
Returning his kiss left little doubt in his mind she was very eager to experience those pleasures. He left her standing in the doorway holding the front of her dress up so he could see her hand playing in the crotch of her panties, knowing she wasn't going to stop as he turned right and walked back down the hill.
When he returned to the hotel to shower, he discovered the girls were already back. The bed was covered with shopping bags from expensive boutiques. Looking down from the balcony, he spotted them by the pool, the fat-man and five others seated not fifteen feet away, surreptitiously watching from behind large dark glasses. Poor guy, he mused, almost sympathetic to the man's near obsession. He went back inside and tossed his wallet on the dresser. When they get back up here they're gunna find a pleasant surprise to look forward to this evening. He unbuttoned his shirt, and dropping his pants for the second time in one day.
To Be Continued...