Pretty Jennifer Chadwick was somewhat surprised when she heard the off-the-wall suggestion. After all, she hadn't walked into the Temporary Placement Agency of Beaverville with any thought of entering a beauty pageant. No way! Being a contestant in a beauty pageant had been the last thing on her mind. She had simply come into Mr. Applegate's agency to find a job--any job--that's all! Just a job! One of those increasingly rare commodities in modern day America. Just a plain and simple job.
Just some temporary position to give her some spending money until she could find meaningful employment. She didn't want a managerial job, nor a position as a high-paid boss, nor a decision-making executive-level job, nor a job which paid megabucks for doing meganothing.
She expected to find work as a secretary, or be offered a temporary assignment as an office worker, or perhaps land a short gig as a retail clerk performing seasonal sales. She was willing to do anything--or, almost anything--to obtain employment.
When Mr. Applegate mentioned the beauty pageant she became curious and wanted to learn more. After all, she had never considered entering such an event. Sure, she knew she was pretty, but she didn't consider herself beautiful. She would have laughed out loud if she weren't so desperate for gainful employment.
"Well, what kind of a pageant is it?" she asked, hesitantly, afraid to sound too anxious.
Dave Applegate was a balding middle-aged man who had seen his best years as a high school jock some twenty years beforehand. He was getting older and more discerning in his tastes. He now liked fine wine, soft music, and pretty women.
He looked at the pretty woman sitting in front of him. He admired pretty women--and she was certainly very pretty.
Very very pretty!
Ever since Jennifer Chadwick had stepped into his office he hadn't allowed his eyes to leave her incredibly curvaceous and scintillating body for a nanosecond. He sat as rigid as a board. He hadn't leaned back in his oversized leather chair to even take a breath. He hadn't blinked, he hadn't breathed, he hadn't twitched--and he probably wouldn't for the duration of time she'd be in his field of vision.
He had a motto: Quality pussy must be kept under close surveillance.
He silently appraised her from behind the safety of his desk and smiled. Undoubtedly, Jennifer was the most appetizing morsel of female flesh to have entered his piss-ant employment agency in a considerable period of time. It had been months since he had last seen loveliness to rival hers--perhaps years. Not since that blonde reporter from the Channel 4 newscrew stopped by to interview him for an in-depth story on small businesses.
But Jennifer was better looking than that daffy blonde. And from all appearances, she had a nicer personality too. She seemed to be the friendly sort. In other words, she wouldn't scream her head off if he were to feel a little flesh.
At that moment, he would definitely love to feel some of her flesh! For hours and hours and hours. Especially that succulent flesh which was largely hidden from view beneath her dress.
He stared at her while he studied her. He had seen a lot of beauties over the years, but never had he seen any woman he wanted to fuck more.
She was that one in a million.
She had it all!
A pair of gorgeous tits, a shapely ass, a long pair of sensually tapering legs, a beautiful face, and a couple of firm buns. She possessed every physical feature that a woman could desire--and she had it in bountiful abundance.
In short, she was the Fucking Motherlode!
Furthermore, everything she had was in perfect proportion to the rest of her body. She had the proper height of a fuckable female, the proper weight of a fuckable female--not to mention the proper geometry, the proper trigonometry, and the proper symmetry of a fuckable female.
Her height was in proportion to her weight. The geometry of her full succulent tits was in harmony with that of her nicely shaped hips, the symmetry of her womanly hips was in agreement with that of her firm thighs, and the trigonometry of her inviting thighs was well-coordinated with that of her alluring calves.
Indeed, she was the perfect female package! It seemed as if her body had been designed by horny engineering students with exceptional abilities in Advanced Female Design. Apparently when they were working on their project they had fucking on their brains!
Jennifer was a divine masterpiece! If she were a work of art she would be in the Louvre. If she were a tree, she'd be a National Park. If she were a rock, she'd be part of the Crown Jewels. Instead she was flesh and blood. A woman. And because of that, she was meant to be properly fucked!
Indeed, a man couldn't look at her for any length of time without wanting to take her to bed. Dave certainly wanted to. In fact, he wanted to strip her naked, spread-eagle her to the wall, and fuck her brains out.
Nor could a fellow watch her for more than a few minutes without developing a throbbing painful hard-on and wanting to use it on her in a most improper--most ungentlemanly--most impolite and most discourteous way.
At that moment, Dave certainly had a hard-on. And it was certainly painful. And he certainly wanted to use it on her. He might be conducting himself as an all-American well-mannered, well-respected, God-fearing business man simply offering employment assistance to a lady in need. But beneath the mild Jimmy Stewart persona and the gentlemanly bearing was a typical all-American male possessing a pair of mighty balls between his legs, a long hard cock between his balls, and a salacious imagination to match that of a Seventh Fleet sailor on shore leave.
A fellow couldn't remain in Jennifer's presence for more than a few seconds without feeling a thumping in his chest, a persistent tugging in his balls, and the bubbling of pre-ejaculate coming out the top of his cock.
At that moment, Dave certainly felt a thumping in his chest. He also felt a persistent tugging in his balls. Little sperm cells were rushing around at the base of his scrotum and preparing for a pleasant eruptive excursion deep into her moist inviting depths. Other droplets of viscous semen had already rushed upward and were slowly but surely seeping out of his peehole.
Drip! Drip! Drip!
Dribble! Dribble! Dribble!
Drip! Drip! Drip!
His dick was dripping semen like a leaking kitchen faucet in need of a new washer. His cock was bubbling manly crude oil. His penis was pushing up passion juice.
He worried that if he kept dripping semen like a teenager seeing his first Playboy magazine, then his shorts would soon be soaked.
"What kind of a beauty pageant is it, Mr. Applegate?" Jennifer repeated the question which she had asked previously.
Dave cleared his throat. He reached up and nervously straightened his tie, mildly embarrassed for having forgotten her earlier inquiry. He had to watch himself. He tended to become forgetful during times of intense horniness. He supposed that it had something to do with the pressure in his balls disrupting the normal thought patterns. Sort of like a low pressure center disrupting normal weather patterns. Instead of a thought proceeding from his frontal lobe to his mouth, it went from his brain to his balls.
"Oh it's the T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards," he replied with a businesslike smile.
"T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards?" Jennifer blinked her eyes and thought for a moment, attempting to recall the name. However, she drew a blank. "I've never heard of it."
"The T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards is mainly a West Coast sort of thing. You know, very Las Vegas."
"Can you tell me a little more?" she asked, crossing her luscious thighs a little more firmly, thus highlighting them a bit more beneath the material of her skirt.
"It's basically just your average run-of-the-mill beauty pageant," he replied, attempting to keep his libido under control while speaking to her. A big glob of pre-ejaculate came out of the tip of his prick at that very instant. He knew his underwear would be a soaking mess of viscous stickiness within the hour.
She needed some further elaboration. "But...do you mean...like a...a...beauty pageant?"
He was surprised by her reluctance to jump at the chance to make easy money. Most beautiful women would have been excited beyond measure to enter a beauty contest, dress up in great clothes, and come away with a few extra bucks in the process. "Well...er...yes. You know what they're like."
"Gee. I don't know. I've never thought of being in a beauty pageant before."
He didn't believe that could be true. Jennifer Chadwick exuded sexuality, sensual charm, and a great deal of all-American, girl-next-door Iowa farmgirl wholesomeness. If ever there was a natural woman for a beauty contest, she was one.
However, Dave didn't bother to tell her some of the precise details involved in the T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards Pageant. He didn't believe it would be wise at this particular juncture to reveal that the pageant didn't have the same high moral standards as the Miss America Contest, or The Miss Universe Contest, or the Miss World Contest. Indeed, the T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards Pageant wasn't even considered a legitimate contest by THE INTER-AMERICAN SOCIETY OF BEAUTY PAGEANTS. Apparently it was far too lewd and off-color for their tastes. Too many indecent incidents had occurred at the T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards over the years. Indeed, only a year ago, the show had gotten downright vulgar. If it hadn't been for the advent of cable television the event might have been banned altogether. But thankfully, cable was in such dire need of viewer material, nothing was rejected. That's why Mr. Ed and Gilligan's Island were always in reruns in the wondrous cable universe.
However, Dave Applegate didn't see any pressing need to warn pretty Jennifer Chadwick about the unabashed vulgarity of the T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards. Nor did he see any reason to tell her about the previous year's debacle when the event got raided by the police and was banned altogether from the city of Las Vegas. Nor did he see any reason to advise her that she might be required to walk around in the skimpiest outfit she had ever worn, or that she might be told to do some rather embarrassing things with her breasts right in front of the camera, or that she might be required to do some things with her pubis which would have been considered criminal in most places in North America.
No, he would let her find out such details for herself. Besides, he wanted to see her perform some lewd and lascivious deeds in front of the camera himself.
Drip! Drip! Dribble!
She sat immediately in front of him in a richly upholstered red leather chair. From his perspective he had a great view of her long tapering legs because she wore a knee-length skirt. Thus, her shapely calves were displayed to their fullest--and most sensual--advantage. She sat with her flawless knees pressed primly together. He wanted to reach across the table and spread those elegant legs of hers, but he managed to control himself.
Although it wasn't easy.
Drip! Drip! Dribble!
He had a hunch that she didn't spread her thighs very often. She had that reluctant puritanical look about her--as if she considered it improper to fuck around. Too bad, for she certainly looked like a prime piece of ass who could give a man a most enjoyable ride.
"I think you'd be a natural to win the T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards Pageant," he said.
"Do you? Really?" she asked, her eyes opened wide and expressed complete innocence.
He smiled. In a way, she sounded as if she were straight out of hicksville. Surely a woman with her gorgeous beauty knew she was beautiful!
But then, perhaps not. Maybe she truly was naive about her effect on men. Perhaps she really wasn't aware of her sensual appeal. Maybe she didn't know she caused hard-ons galore and sperm to rise.
Drip! Drip! Dribble!
She looked at him with big round eyes and a Wow-Gee-Gosh-Golly-Whiz expression.
"Of course I think you can win," he said. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."
"Well...er...what do I have to do at this T.A.C.I. Awards Pageant?"
He wished that she hadn't asked a specific question. Now he was forced to fabricate a lie. After all, he couldn't very well tell her what usually happened at a T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards Pageant. The shenanigans at the T.A.C.I. Awards made those which occurred at the Tailhook Convention look like a Sunday school picnic. "Basically nothing," he said convincingly, keeping a straight face. "All you have to do is stand on a stage and look pretty. In other words, just be yourself."
"I thought that it took years of practice to enter one of those contests."
"Nonsense. Not for the T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards."
"You mean, anyone can audition?"
"As long as they're beautiful--like you."
She blushed. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. "Will I be modelling evening gowns and dresses by famous designers?"
"But I thought that every beauty contest had designer dresses."
Dresses were the last thing attendees at a T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards Pageant wanted to see on beautiful women. The less clothing, the better. Of course, Dave didn't want to admit that for fear of scaring her from entering. "Er...you'll be wearing swimsuits. Designer swimsuits," he added, hoping to mollify her.
She blinked her eyes. "Swimsuits! You mean I'll be showing my body?"
He chuckled at her question. She was so naive and innocent it was difficult to believe. "Of course you'll be displaying your body. A woman can't very well wear a swimsuit in this day and age without showing her body."
She shook her head. "I don't know about this. I had a very strict upbringing. My mother wouldn't like me doing something like this."
"Oh come now. Surely she wouldn't mind you wearing a swimsuit."
"Well, she wouldn't...normally, but I'd be appearing in front of the public and all." She allowed her knees to separate a fraction of an inch while she nervously wrung her pretty manicured hands in her lap.
As she busied herself with her hands, he locked his eyes on the narrow space between her legs. He attempted to will those elegant legs to open wider.
He concentrated feverishly on the task, beaming his pupils right at the apex of her crotch.
He wanted a chance to glimpse her luscious thighs. In fact, he wanted to gaze at the entire length of her inner thigh--and beyond.
In short, he wanted to stare at her cunt.
However, instead of offering him a better view of her lower bodily charms, she leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs so that one shapely calf was draped across her knee and dangled over the other calf. She was obviously thinking about being a contestant in the T.A.C.I. Awards Pageant rather than concerned with offering him a beaver shot. "Oh gee!" she said. "I don't know if I should enter this thing or not. I really don't know," she replied, still wringing her hands nervously.
The last thing he wanted was for her to back out. After all, he received a kickback from the T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards. The more pussy he supplied, the more money he made. And there was an added bonus for especially quality pussy. From his estimation, he figured that Jennifer would fetch him top dollar.
He cleared his throat and spoke persuasively. "This is really good money, you know?"
Her eyes brightened. Thus far Mr. Applegate hadn't mentioned the amount of money involved. "How much?" she asked.
"At least a couple of thousand."
She was stunned. She blinked in disbelief. "For winning?"
"That's just for being a contestant."
"For only being a contestant!" she exclaimed.
She smiled. The T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards was sounding better all the time--much better. "What do I get if I win?"
"I don't know how much you get for winning, but for being a runner-up you can make upwards of forty thousand."
She gasped, placing a hand on her heaving breasts. "Forty thousand! For only a few days work!"
"Well, sure. I told you it would be ideal."
"But I thought that only winners of beauty contests got that much money."
"Those are the contests you're familiar with. The T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards operates on an entirely different principle. Since they're less well known than the older, more established, more respected, beauty contests, the T.A.C.I. Awards have to offer a lot more money up front."
"So they can attract the best pus...women available." Dave immediately caught himself. He worried that she might have heard him accidentally utter the word, "pussy". He didn't want her to know how he thought of women.
However, he didn't have to worry about her hearing him. She was too busy tabulating the financial figures. "Wow! I could sure use a couple of thousand dollars."
"Most people can."
"And all I have to do is enter this T.A.C.I. Awards?"
She smiled. She displayed her beautifully white teeth and stretched her beautifully sensual smile wide. "Well, maybe I just might give this a try."
"I wish you would. I bet you'd win. Now, stand up and let me examine you."
"Sure. I can't very well send you to the beauty pageant without checking your posture and other things, can I? It would make me look bad if I sent them someone who wasn't fit."
His explanation made sense. She gladly stood up to be examined. She would do almost anything for that kind of easy money.
Dave watched her. As she rose for her chair, his cock rose from his balls. As she stood tall, his cock stood tall. As she smiled with an anxious twitch, his cock twitched anxiously.
Drip! Drip! Dribble!
He stepped close and assessed her rosy cheeks and straight patrician nose. He noticed that she was one of those rare women who didn't need false eyelashes or eyeliner. When she awoke in the morning, she probably looked as good--and as fuckable--as she did the night before. "Ah yes, you have a very pretty face."
He looked directly into her lovely brown eyes. Although he preferred blue-eyed blondes, he had to admit that Jennifer Chadwick was the most gorgeous brunette he had ever laid eyes on. Her irises were hypnotic, and the whites of her eyes looked as if they had been bleached with concentrated Clorex. He wondered what those eyes of hers would look like the instant that a long hard cock slipped into her moist cunt. He would like to be the person doing the slipping and the watching.
His cock twitched at the thought.
Drip! Drip! Dribble!
"You have the kind of face that a camera loves. It's so expressive."
Jennifer blushed, turning her already rosy cheeks that much rosier and her already pretty smile that much prettier. She couldn't handle complements and it showed.
As he watched her lips curve into a smile, he wondered what that mouth of hers would look like if it were stuffed full of cock. He would love to have a close-up of her pretty pink lips wrapped around his hard throbbing cock at the precise moment of ejaculation.
"Open you mouth," he said.
"I have to examine your teeth. I have to see if they're perfect."
"I've never had a cavity nor any orthodontic work," she boasted. She opened her mouth to proudly display her teeth and gums.
He peered inside for a moment. Not only did she have perfect teeth, they didn't even have any discoloration. He fantasized that his head was an enormous dick and it was just about to enter into her oral cavern for a sucking experience.
While she had her head tilted back, he looked down at her magnificent breasts. He practically drooled at the sight of their rounded majesty. He doubted if he had ever seen a pair as splendid as hers. They resembled large ripe melons hanging from her rib cage. Furthermore, they were beautifully round and full. They were meant to be played with--meant to be fondled--meant to be sucked.
While ostensibly looking in her mouth to check her teeth, he secretly assessed the titties. He saw her nipples pointing outward and slightly upward. They were the tits of a fully mature woman in the prime of her life. They were as perfect as any he had ever seen--or had imagined. He wanted to lower his head and feast.
His cock twitched at the thought.
Drip! Drip! Dribble!
He knew that he couldn't continue to look into her mouth forever without causing suspicions, so he stepped back, folded his arms across his chest and said, "I need to see your profile. Turn to the side, please."
"All right," she replied demurely. She had never guessed there was so much to a beauty pageant. But then she suspected that all such events had such behind-the-scenes preliminaries.
"Suck in your tummy and stand straight."
Obediently, she did so, taking a deep breath to maximize her posture.
Mesmerized, he watched her rounded breasts rise like twin water balloons being filled. Once more, he had to resist the impulse to reach out and fondle her flesh. Just a fondle or two would cure his lust. Just a tweak or two would satisfy his curiosity.
His cock was now twitching like a rattlesnake getting ready to strike.
Drip! Drip! Dribble!
He became nervous. He started to perspire. Droplets of perspiration began to run down his chest and pool beneath his arms.
He bit his lower lip, attempting to cause himself pain and attempting to control his libido. He just had to get himself under control.
He drew his attention to her tummy. He saw that she had a very small waist in comparison to the size of her breasts. He had never seen such a sensual abdomen before. Moreover, unlike those of a lot of women, hers curved inward. It looked as if she was sucking it in, but that was the natural curvature of her belly.
"Stretch your arms above your head."
She did, reaching up slowly for an invisible spot high above her head. He watched as her lovely large titties rose like ripe cantaloupes rising from the produce section of the supermarket in an valiant attempt to breathe free.
Drip! Drip! Dribble!
"Okay, now I want you to reach down and raise your skirt."
She looked at him with alarm. Her eyes became large. She blinked. "Say what?"
"Lift your skirt. I want to look at your legs."
She cocked her head to one side. "I...I...don't know about this."
He smiled. "Now look, you're being silly. Remember that you're entering a beauty pageant and you're going to be wearing a swimsuit. You'll be showing a lot more leg to the audience than you will to me."
Once she had it explained to her, she didn't mind lifting her skirt.
He practically creamed in his trousers. The woman had the best pair of legs he had ever seen. They were a sensual masterpiece. Michelangelo couldn't have carved a more alluring pair. They could have belonged to the top model in the country. They could have been used for stocking commercials.
His libido rose markedly. His cock rose markedly. His balls rose markedly. His semen also rose markedly, leaving an ever expanding stain of stickiness on his undies.
Drip! Drip! Dribble!
He worried that at any second he would begin to pant like a dog. He had to touch her. He just had to.
Slowly, carefully, he reached out and put his hand on her thigh.
Immediately she looked at him and asked, "What are you doing?" There was a measure of trepidation in her voice.
"I...er...have to test for firmness. No woman is allowed into the contest who might have cellulite."
"Oh." Once more the explanation made sense to her. Cellulite was one of the grossest things in the world. She was glad that she didn't have any.
Dave touched her as if she were a priceless work of art. He knew men who would pay handsomely to be able to do what he was presently doing. Her skin was flawless--absolutely flawless. It was more like an infant's than that of a grown woman. He wondered if the inside of her pussy was flawless too. He had a hunch that it was. He would certainly like to find out.
He refrained from reaching up to cup her sex. He wasn't that emboldened yet. However, there was an another area of her body in which he was quite interested.
"And you're not allowed to have silicone implants either."
"Well, I certainly don't."
"I'll have to check." He reached up and squeezed her breasts.
With each squeeze her mouth opened...
Satisfied that he had been given a chance to feel her up he said, "Yep! Those tits are real. I think you're ready for the contest."
Jennifer was glad to have the examination concluded. She didn't think she could have tolerated Mr. Applegate's hands on her for a minute longer. She had been won over to the idea of participating in the T.A.C.I. Beauty Awards because of the money involved, but as of yet she hadn't been won over to the touchy-feely hands of Mr. Applegate.
She straightened her dress and asked for some more information. He handed her some materials to read and some forms to fill out. He told her when they were completed that he would make arrangements for them to fly to Las Vegas for the T.A.C.I. Awards Pageant.
She took them, placed them in her purse, and headed on her way. Once she was outside and away from the establishment, Dave closed the door and took a deep breath.
"Those were the best tits I've ever felt." He lifted his hands, placed them in front of his field of vision, and stared at them reverently--as if he could still see her succulent womanly globes of firm mammary flesh filling his palms. He doubted if he would ever wash his hands again.
Just then he felt his cock twitch painfully. He sensed that it was going to blow at any minute.
He immediately unzipped himself and pulled out his cock.
He stared at it in wonder. The thing seemed bigger than he could ever recall. He squeezed the fingers of his right hand around it. He watched it expand to its greatest possible extent. He realized that he had to relieve the pressure in his cock. Fast! He had to fuck someone--fast!
He cleared his desk and ran out of the office.
Oddly enough, when he rushed by the secretary en route to his car, she could have swore that she heard him barking like a dog.
When Dave got home an hour later, he dashed in the house. He saw his lovely wife, Pam, sitting in the recliner.
She turned to him, flashed him a beautiful smile, and asked, "So, how did your day go, dear?"
He rushed over and stood immediately in front of her. Without explanation, he began to divest himself of his clothes. "You wouldn't believe the woman who came into today," he said as he hurriedly unknotted his tie.
Pam smiled brightly. From years of long experience, she knew that when Dave was this excited to get out of his clothing, he was hot for sex. His cock was probably as hard as an oak two-by-four. She glanced at the region between his thighs. She saw his bulge. As expected, it was long and hard.
Just a brief glimpse at the outline of his erection caused her to get turned on too. She was a highly sexed woman. She needed a lot of cock--and a lot of pussy. Being bisexual, she loved to hear about pretty women. And the prettier Dave's clients were, the more details she wanted to hear of them. "Ooh, tell me about her."
Dave was breathing hard. "She was exceptionally lovely--and I do mean 'exceptionally'. Her name was Jennifer Chadwick and she had knockers like you couldn't believe." He rolled his eyes for emphasis and placed his hands in front of his chest to indicate her dimensions.
"Real milkers, eh?" asked Pam, feeling a stirring in her groin. She loved big-breasted women.
"I'll say." He tossed his shirt away, uncaringly flinging it across the room. He then hurried to undo his belt. "And so perfectly proportioned too."
Pam gave her husband a naughty wink and asked, "Mmmm! Did you feel her up?"
"I sure did."
Pam imagined the scene in lurid detail. The thought of her husband's hands on another woman's breasts aroused her. She was becoming hornier by the minute. She licked her lips and asked, "Would you feel me up? I'm getting excited just hearing about this woman."
He looked at his blonde wife and said, "Take off your blouse and I'll pay some attention to those lovely knockers of yours." He had now discarded his trousers and his shoes.
Pam began to breath deeply. Her nostrils flared and she moaned, "Mmmm! You know how to make my panties moist."
"Take off all of your clothes and I'll do to you what I wanted to do to Jennifer."
"You've got yourself a deal, mister." Pam stood up and hurriedly discarded her clothes. Since all she wore was a blouse and a skirt with nothing underneath, she was soon as naked as a jaybird.
When he finished with the last of his clothing, he looked at his lovely wife and smiled. They had been through a lot together over the years, and they had done their fair share of fucking, sucking, and swapping, but they hadn't lost their love for each other. There was a trust which had developed over the years. They had a fond attachment for their liberal relationship. They truly enjoyed the advantages of an open marriage.
Dave was in his fifties, but wasn't yet in terrible shape. As of yet, he hadn't had any serious operations, other than a vasectomy. However, he knew that he wasn't a spring chicken anymore. His hair was thinning and turning gray, but he still looked distinguished in a John Forsythe kind of way.
Pam was in her late forties. Nevertheless, she had maintained herself remarkably well. She was still as fit and trim as someone in their early twenties. Of course, she had to work out a lot more than a twenty-year-old to stay in tip-top shape. Nevertheless, her buns were still solid, her breasts were still full, and her legs were still lean. She probably couldn't make it as a centerfold in Playboy anymore, but she could certainly make it into one of their occasional spreads on older beauties. She was better looking than nine out of ten broads on the street.
Most importantly than her looks was the fact that she still loved a good fuck. She loved to stretch her thighs when a man and a dick was between them.
She was a great believer in physical fitness. She kept all of her muscle groups in shape, overlooking none. She exercised her arms, her legs, her abdomen, and did her fair share of aerobics to maintain her heart rate and her exceptional cardiovascular condition. She also knew how important it was to keep the vaginal muscles in shape. She understood that a man loved tight cunt. The tighter the cunt, the happier the man. The happier the man, the better the loving. The better the loving, the more fucks a woman received. Thus, she went out of her way to keep her vagina as tight as possible. She did her pussy exercises two or three times per day. She preferred to get them in shape when she had a dick in her cunt, but sometimes she relied on her trusty dildo or vibrator.
In brief, she kept herself as a lean mean fucking machine.
Since she was a bisexual, she also enjoyed an occasional romp on the sheets with a woman. Pam liked her female lovers to be full-bodied and young. She didn't like boyish types, or the usual sort of butch dyke some women enjoyed. She liked women who had some meat on their bones. Someone who was curvaceous and scintillating. Someone who was stacked like the proverbial brick shithouse.
From the description that Dave had given of Jennifer, it sounded as if she might have found a new bed partner.
Pam determined that she would have to learn much more about Jennifer Chadwick. She was already yearning for a more detailed description.
When Pam was completely stripped she stood a few feet away from her husband, reached down with her hands, and pulled the lips of her sex apart. "Do you like what you see?" she asked in a husky whisper which bespoke of her intense arousal.
Dave watched her with passion laden eyes. "Oh baby! You know that I'm one man who loves pink on a female."
She licked her lips, keeping her labia spread. "Show me."
With those words he got down on his hands and knees and crawled towards her like a dog. Since he was naked, his large cock hung down from his belly, swinging about like a Polish sausage, while his balls dangled down between his legs and bounced like a pair of fleshy eggs.
She kept her pussy framed with her hands. She spread her legs and called, "Come on, Rover. Get in there and lick."
Pam loved to play the dominant role during the sex act. She wasn't the submissive sort. That was one of the reasons why her marriage to Dave had been so perfect. Unlike most men, he loved to be dominated.
Dave scurried forward and literally buried his face in her crotch, sticking his nose, tongue, and entire jaw into the apex of her legs. He loved cunnilingus. During the entire afternoon, he had wanted to dive down on Jennifer's sweet muff, but naturally the occasion was inappropriate and the opportunity had not presented itself. However, now that he was finally home, he could lick out his wife's snatch to his heart's content.
He stuck his tongue far back into her vagina, licking and slurping her sexual secretions as they dribbled into his mouth. He loved the taste of pussy. Truly loved it. He didn't understand why some men wouldn't go down on a woman. As long as a woman was pretty and youthful looking, and as long as she douched, there wasn't a better way to spend an evening. It sure beat watching cop shows on television.
Pam was getting turned on. "Ohhhh!" she sighed as she spread her thighs a little wider and crouched down a bit more. "Get in there. Yes. That's the way, Rover. Good doggy."
Pam always called Dave "Rover", since he frequently behaved like a dog during their lovemaking sessions, and she enjoyed treating him like one.
She looked down and watched him work on her cunt. She loved the way he went about his business with a great deal of concern for her pleasure. He didn't simply attend to the vagina as some selfish men were wont to do. Instead, he ministered to the entire pubic area. He gave as much attention to the clit as he did to the vagina, and as much attention to the outer labia as he did to the inner. He was as good at cuntlapping as a lesbian. He was an outstanding lover.
Soon, Pam was no longer able to remain standing. She had to sit in the recliner with her legs spread wide.
But that wasn't enough.
She spread her legs even wider by placing the backs of her knees on the armrests. This allowed him even greater access to her numerous feminine charms. When she scooted her ass forward a bit, and pulled her legs back so that her knees rested on her distended nipples, she was fully splayed.
Dave loved it when his wife opened herself fully. No woman had a prettier cunt--except perhaps Jennifer. No woman had a more fragrant smelling cunt--except perhaps Jennifer. No woman was more responsive to an adept tongue--except perhaps Jennifer.
With his tongue in Pam's hole and his nose rubbing her clitoris, he was driving her to delirious heights of pleasure. And yet, all the while he attended to his wife, he thought of Jennifer.
He wondered if she had ever been tongued. He doubted it. Most all-American girls were too shy to allow a man to feast between their legs. Luckily, his wife wasn't one of those.
"Oooooh! That's it! That's it!" Pam began to sigh contentedly as she held herself wide open to his lingual ministrations. She was now moving her entire pelvis up and down, attempting to capture more of his tongue and drive it deeper into her.
Dave went about his work eagerly and enthusiastically. Leisurely working his way up and down and all around her pubic region, making sure he licked every cubic millimeter of cunt. He secretly wished that he could find a job as a pussy taster. He frequently scoured the international ads for such listings. He had once heard of an opening in Bangkok, Thailand, but that had been years ago. If he could find such a dream job, he would take it in a minute.
He found himself thinking of Jennifer's pussy as he ate out that of his wife. He knew it wasn't a nice thing to think of another woman's snatch while tonguing one's spouse, but he had a very lewd mind and a very high libido. Besides, his equally lewd wife would understand.
"Oh Rover!" she gasped. "Beg for me."
That was a sign she gave for him to momentarily pause. He pulled his face out of her crotch, leaned back on his heels like a well-trained beagle, and, without hesitation, barked, "Arf! Arf!"
He even went so far as to pant and drool like a dog.
Pam smiled. She got such a kick out of making men beg. Ever since she had developed into a beautiful woman she had found pleasure in degrading the opposite sex. In college, she had once gotten a group of boys to circle jerk, while at the same time convincing the male professor of the class to swallow their cum. She promised that she would fuck them all if they performed as instructed. The boys did their thing, the professor did his thing, and she did her thing.
On other occasions, she persuaded boys to climb atop water towers in the nude, to roll in mud like pigs and oink, and on one occasion to flap their arms like chickens while they took a shit on the front lawn of the Dean's residence.
In short, she truly loved the power she had over men--and she used it often.
She looked lovingly at her husband. Dave had proven to be a real catch. He was one of the few men she had met who didn't mind her power games. In fact, he seemed to enjoy them as much as she did. She had met him twenty years beforehand at a Marin County orgy. He was older than the men she was used to, but she enjoyed the fit of his cock in her cuntal sheath. He seemed to have a penis made especially for her.
They dated for a few weeks, but as was the case with all of her male lovers, she soon became bored with a one-on-one heterosexual monogamous relationship. When she purposely brought a lesbian lover home one night to cause him emotional distress, he handled the situation with aplomb.
He simply asked permission to watch the proceedings!
She was so touched by his unselfishness, that she invited him to participate in the proceedings. From that moment, she realized that she had found her true soul mate. They fell helplessly in love, and shortly thereafter, they were married.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Changes last made on: Tuesday, January 6, 2004