"Every Man For Anne" - читать интересную книгу автора (Peters Staci)

Chapter 9

"Wasn't that fantastic last night?" Anne made it sound half-question and half-statement. She was still wrapped up in thoughts of the previous evening's romp with Greg.

"I think he enjoyed himself too!" Silke giggled. She didn't open her eyes.

The two girls were lying out on the back lawn savoring the late-morning sunshine. They both wore the skimpiest bikinis and their bodies glistened with suntan lotion.

"No wonder you have such a good time with Greg."

"He's a nice guy, isn't he?"

"Nice? That's putting it mildly when you're talking about a cock like that!"

"Yep," agreed Silke, "you'd have to admit he's pretty well hung."

"You must invite me down for supper more often," Anne laughed. "Hey, I'm turning… over how about rubbing some of that oil on my back?"

"My pleasure," said Silke.

Anne rolled over onto her front. Silke took off her sunglasses and sat up. She poured some lotion into the palm of her hand and began to massage it into her friend's shoulders.

"Mmm, that feels good."

"How's our guest this morning?" Silke enquired. "Oh, he's just fine. Had a great appetite for breakfast."

"Still grumbling that he's all chained up?"

"Yeah," said Anne, suddenly reminded of their brief rough and tumble. "You know, he tried to jump me."

"How did that happen?"

Anne recounted the whole episode in detail, although she didn't admit how close she'd come to giving in. It had been difficult to jump up from John's bed when his rampant cock had been so' ready for entering her. Still, she'd get around to that again later.

"… he'd already admitted how much he wanted to join in with the three of us last night," Anne concluded her story. "Somehow I think there's hope for him yet. By the time this weekend's over, he'll be quite rehabilitated!"

Anne absentmindedly plucked a blade of grass and began chewing on it as she added: "It's funny, but I think he's enjoying the whole game as much as we are. Maybe more."

"You're right. I get that feeling too!"

"I'm sure it's the best thing that's happened to him in ages."

"So when should we let him off the chain?"

"Soon. Let's see how it works out," said Anne, quite confident that their prank couldn't backfire now. "He's loving it. Anyway, if he isn't yet ready to concede we were right; tonight should really turn his head around."

"You've said it. It'll really make him strain on the leash."

"Why don't we go down and check on him? We've got to make sure things are all ready for tonight."

"Five minutes more, Silke. I'm digging your massage too much to go in right now."

John was snoozing on the bed when the girls did go down to Silke's apartment.

"He's pretty cute, you know," said Anne, "… for someone who's such a square."

"Used to be a square," Silke corrected her. "I think we've broadened his horizons somewhat."

"Right," agreed Anne as she closed the door quietly. "Let him get some energy back before the evening performance."

They tithed up the front room together: puffed up the pillows, emptied the ashtrays, made sure there was plenty of ice in the refrigerator, and brought some drinks down from upstairs.

Anne went back up again and returned with a square cardboard box in her hands. "Look what I've found."

"What is it?" asked Silke, continuing to sort out some suitable records for the occasion.

"It's a game. I found it in the cupboard with a lot of Larry's old things. Good thing Mom never went through that stuff! Look at this; ‘SENSITIVITY, the body-language game for broadminded adults.' "

"Now that sounds good… "

"What a way to break the ice. Why don't I put it down here with the Scrabble and Monopoly so that one of the boys can accidentally find it."

Anne laid the box down on top of the others on the shelf beneath the record player.

"Shit," exclaimed Silke. "The bloody television's gone wrong again."

She'd flipped on the switch but the screen was just a jumbled mass of fuzzy lines rolling over and over. She fiddled with a knob at the back of the set. "Damn, that doesn't seem to make any difference."

"I don't think we're going to be watching television, are we?"

"Who knows? Look what it lead to last night."

Anne grinned at the memory. "Sure, someone might want to turn it on."

"Anyway, tomorrow night I wanted to watch that serial John was telling us about."

"Listen to you. Now who's learning from whom?"

Silke shrugged, "I don't see why it shouldn't be a mutual learning experience."

"I was only teasing," said Anne. "I'll give the T.V. shop a call… maybe they can send someone over."

Forty minutes later a service truck turned into Russell Avenue and pulled up outside the Weston? home. The girls were upstairs in Anne's bedroom which faced the front. Silke glanced out of the window when she heard the van door slam.

"That must be the serviceman… that was quick."

"Take a look at him," said Anne, who'd joined her friend by the window. "He's a pretty gorgeous hunk."

"Shall we invite him for tonight?" Silke said in a saucy tone.

Anne dug her in the ribs. "Don't be silly!"

"Well, you as good as said you fancied him."

"Quick," said Anne urgently, "I've got a great Idea." She wriggled out of her bikini and dragged on a pair of denim shorts. "You go down and wake John… make sure he doesn't miss a thing!"

Silke stood there and raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Go on, scram. He'll be at the door any moment."

Silke fairly ran out of the room and leapt down the stairs two at a time. Anne came down somewhat more calmly, tying up her halter top as she approached the door. The repairman was ringing for a second time when she opened the front door with an easy smile.

"Come on in. It's the set downstairs that's gone on the blink. I'll lead the way."

Anne ushered the serviceman into Silke's lounge and pointed at the television set in the corner: "I don't know what's wrong with it… the picture's all fuzzy."

He crossed the room and while his back was turned Anne couldn't help grinning at the mirror.

Silke should have John wide-awake by now, she thought, as she gave them both a big wink.

"What's your name?" Anne asked the repairman. "Michael. What's yours?"

"Anne," she replied, and flopped down in the armchair.

"On your own, are you?" he asked.

"Yep. All summer. My folks are cruising around the Mediterranean somewhere."

"Nice work if you can get it."

He looked up from the back of the set and just managed to stop his mouth dropping open. Anne was wearing her shortest denim cut-offs, and the way she was sitting with her legs sprawled out pulled them tight between her thighs. Little curls of hair were peeking out mischievously. Right then Anne knew that he was- working hard to keep an erection down.

"Well, I'd better plug it in for you," she said, stressing the double meaning.

Anne picked up the connecting wire and bent right over as she plugged it into the wall socket. The denim shorts couldn't contain her well rounded bum and both cheeks were showing as she lingered over getting the plug in straight. Anne gave Michael a few moments to drink in the visual feast before straightening up and turning toward him: "I didn't have time to change," she said, "I've been sunbathing all morning."

Michael nodded and turned slightly red.

Now Anne sat on the arm of the chair with her legs straddled on either side. She leaned back and sort of rubbed her pussy on the chair… if this didn't make him come in his pants, nothing would.

Michael fiddled around with the buttons at the back of the set and the picture slowly settled down into a bright, clear image. There was a baseball game in progress.

"I'll show you what to do if it goes funny again like that," said Michael.

She moved over to the T.V. and bent forward to watch what he was doing. As Anne leaned over she could feel her full breasts straining against the flimsy fabric of her halter top. Michael looked up and she smiled very innocently.

"If it goes fuzzy again just play around with that knob there and the picture'll straighten out."

He stood up. A few curls of chest hair looped over tile buttons of his denim shirt. He smelt good. Maybe it was just the smell of a guy who works hard for a living… or maybe she had just a little to do with it. It was obvious he had a rigid hard-on that was almost splitting the front of his jeans.

Anne reached out and very lightly, ran her fingers over the front of his trousers. She could feel his firm cock through the denim.

"You've got a knob there that needs someone to play with it," she chuckled.

Michael's breath quickened. Reaching up she pulled the clip from her hair and shook it free. Even as she did so he took the opportunity to place his trembling hands on her tits. Anne could feel her nipples harden as he brushed them lightly with his fingertips. Anne turned around and began to slowly grind her ass into his protruding jeans. His hands were on her hips as he kissed the back of her neck and shoulders. That always gave Anne goosebumps. She brought his hand up and guided them through the loose sides of her halter. He squeezed and stroked her tits with more urgency. Anne felt behind her and slowly unzipped his jeans. To hell with Silke and John, she thought, I'm enjoying this. They were going to get quite a show. And the pleasure would be all hers.

Michael tugged at the string fasteners and the knot gave way, letting the halter fall loose; Anne stepped away and let the cotton top drift to the ground, then turned to face him.

Now he could see her clearly. Michael gave a short gasp. Her breasts were two creamy, white mounds, framed by the shadow traced by her bikini top. The nipples rose out of the darkish-brown rings that were now puffed up from his caresses. He walked toward her as Anne stumbled back and fell into the chair. She put her hands under her breasts and made a massaging motion. Mike needed no second invitation. Anne closed her eyes and softly sighed as he renewed his attentions to her tits.

He bent low and took one of the juicy hard nipples into his mouth, where he lapped at it with his tongue and lips. She stiffened even further as he rolled it very delicately between his teeth. Anne ran her fingers through his hair and brought his face up to her own and gave him a deep tongue-kiss.

Anne threw- her head back as Mike nibbled a path down her neck, across her tits, down to her stomach. Michael took the initiative. He opened the top stud of her denims and ran the zipper down. Suddenly she remembered the audience behind the mirror. Anne sat up.

"Wait a moment, Michael. This is too good to rush. You sit here, and I'll make it a house-call you'll never forget."

They switched places.

Anne shucked off her denim shorts. Her tits were bouncing as she straightened up. Michael flopped back in the chair as if he couldn't believe his luck. She stood before him, hands on hips, with her legs slightly apart; Anne ran her hands down the sides of her body.

"Drink it in, Michael. Do you really want to have me? Do you really want a special screw?"

As she asked him, she began to cup her breasts and slowly squeezed them forward in a milking motion. Holding her tits high, she bent forward and could just flick the nipples with her tongue. Mike couldn't take his eyes off her. Anne ran her tongue around her lips as lasciviously as she could. Then, teasingly, Anne slipped her fingers between her legs and started playing with her cunt. She began to give herself a leisurely frigging while Michael's eyes absolutely boggled.

"Oh, Anne," Michael gasped out, "you're going to make me come if you keep doing that."

Now, that wasn't in. the script just yet. She peeled back the outer lips of her cunt to give him a closer glimpse of that, rich red treasure, Then she took the finger she'd been using and slowly licked it.

"How do you like being sucked?" Anne asked as she dropped down on her knees in front of him.

"It's just great," Michael stammered, hoping he didn't betray the fact that his wife would never do anything "dirty" like that.

"Move, your hips," she ordered.

He lifted himself up slightly and with one deft tug Anne pulled his jeans and Y-fronts right to his knees. Mike couldn't kick them off quickly enough. His prick, now unrestrained, jutted out at a sharp angle. She unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it from his shoulders. Anne grinned at him, "My, my… you are excited!"

The top of his cock was a deep purple color and a vein on the underside twitched with excitement. Once more Anne licked her tongue around her lips then with open mouth she bent forward quickly and devoured his swollen cock. She knew that as she sucked greedily on his prick he was feeling sensations he had never experienced before. Anne caressed his balls and stroked the shaft as she rhythmically mouth-fucked him. She glanced up, not letting him escape from her lips, and he looked back at her with a mixture of gratitude and ecstasy.

Once or twice she took him deep in her throat as she milked the come up from its reservoir. Anne swirled her tongue around the rim of his cock head as her fingers worked up and down the shaft, and she could even feel the vein throb more intensely. Anne suddenly pushed herself forward and, clasping her breasts together, she gripped his pulsating cock between them.

His hips bucked as the spasm shot through him. Michael groaned. Spurt after spurt of boiling semen gushed over her neck, her face, her tits. He sagged back in the chair.

She leaned forward again and took his glistening cock into her mouth once more, Very, very gently Anne sucked up he last few drops. Then sitting back on her heels, she wiped a thick string of come from her shoulder and throwing her head back, Anne let it trickle slowly into her mouth.

°Mmm… that was good," she said.

After awhile Anne went into the kitchen alcove and poured them both a cola. They lounged around naked, sipping their refreshment and saying very little. Michael didn't seem in any hurry to leave.

And Anne didn't bother to ask if he had any other house-calls to make. She was now the one lounging in the old armchair; she pulled her legs back, perching her heels on the edge of the seat, giving Michael a completely unrestricted view of her hungry puss. He walked over and fell to his knees in front of her.

He leaned forward and kissed her, then began to tease the rosy tip of her tit with a darting tongue. Anne squirmed with pleasure and compulsively grasped the thick shaft of his prick. Michael slid his finger into her. Anne felt her own rising passion even as his cock hardened at her touch.

Michael sucked hard on her nipples as she-tried to maneuver the head of his prick between her dewy lips. He stabbed forward and pushed inch after inch of his aching meat into that juicy slit. Anne gasped with pleasure and hugged her knees back as far as she could. With one final lunge Michael buried himself in her to the hilt.

Anne slipped her legs forward around him, locking her knees in his back. Michael was trapped, churning his heavy tool in her eager furrow. Her hips were tilted toward him allowing for maximum penetration. Each thrust against her grinding hips brought a fresh wave of raging sensation sweeping through Michael. Never had he felt this way before. There was a faraway look of exquisite arousal in Anne's eyes as he filled her inflamed quim to overflowing.

He sighed with each mounting sensation. Anne writhed in the chair. Michael could feel the hot sperm boiling up from his balls, as each stroke slapped them wetly against Anne's straining crack. Suddenly he groaned as he shot a powerful torrent of the milky syrup deep into her thirsty channel. Anne clasped him to her even harder as another spasm shot through him. The burning stream of Michael's thick spunk kept spurting into her.

Even when it was finally over neither of them moved. They remained in each other's embrace, regaining their breath and their senses. Eventually his prick, its semen spent, began to shrink a little and slipped from her. She looked in his eyes, and saw satisfaction there. And gratitude too.