"Blow girl" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Heather)

CHAPTER ONE

The man sitting in the restaurant booth across the aisle was handsome. Too handsome. Handsome enough to get me into trouble.

My eyes met his, but before they did they took in his whole body, which was obviously rugged beneath the well-tailored clothes he was wearing. It was easy to see that he had broad shoulders and a sinewy torso tapering down into a slim waist under the paisley shirt and blue blazer he was wearing. What was even more interesting to me was the exciting bulge of his cock at the crotch of his form-fitting gray trousers. By the time he looked over my way, and our glances met, without even realizing it I had been licking my lips at the thought of a fresh cock. When he looked at me I suddenly became aware of what I was thinking, and how I was showing it, and I looked away in embarrassment, aware that my thoughts were written all over my face. Without being able to help jt I felt a sudden moistness ooze from my cunt. When I got home and changed I would discover that I had stained my third pair of panties in a week that way.

My God, what's the matter with me? I wondered as I tried to look very interested in the menu while a voice in the back of my mind, and an urging in my dripping cunt, told me that it was the suggestion of a stranger's cock that really held my interest. I didn't even know the man, yet I was thinking how wonderful it would be to have him on top of my naked body with his prick up to the hilt in my throbbing cunt while I writhed beneath him with sheer desire and lust blotting out everything else.

"Face the facts," Dolly, my co-worker, had said to me the day before, you're just plain sex hungry. You can't get enough." This was her response to the embarrassment I'd told her I'd felt a few minutes before when my body was pressed against a man's in an overcrowded elevator. I hadn't told her specifically that what had really stirred me up was that we had been pressed so close I could feel his warm, insistent cock pressing against my thigh between two layers of clothing, but it was obvious by what she'd said that she'd figured it out.

The obvious truth of her words shook me, but I cried, "That's absurd, Dolly! I'm no nymphomaniac! And I can live without sex!"

"Can you?" she asked jeeringly. As an answer I fled back to my desk and buried myself in the stack of work that had piled up over the last few days while I had been daydreaming up pulsating cocks ramming up my cunt, surging up my ass, spewing hot cum into my eager mouth-sometimes all at once.

As I was trying to type, Dolly's "Can you?" replaced the usual parade of sex that went on in my mind and cruelly taunted me. Could I? I was no longer certain that I could, but I felt I had to find out. At twenty-two, with three wrecked marriages behind me, and other tragic relationships, the rational side of my thinking told me I'd had enough of love and its pain. When my last marriage had fallen apart I'd told myself I would live the rest of my life without any more emotional entanglements. I'd find fulfillment in other ways. When I got hot, when the lure of sex became too much for me, I would take care of it myself massaging my hungry clit to orgasm with my trusty vibrator, kneading the folds of my cunt into an explosion of damp ecstasy. However, my plans had gone awry because when I gave it to myself it just turned out to be a warm-up for my limitless desire. I would become so stimulated after masturbating I would frequently go out in the middle of the night looking for a man, any man, to fuck me. I usually succeeded, but I knew I was taking a terrible chance of being beaten up by some psycho, or, even worse, being picked up by the cops and charged with prostitution.

Sitting in the restaurant and picking at my food which had just been served, I repeated my vow for probably the thousandth time and frantically wished I could control my hungry cunt.

My resolve was being seriously threatened, however, by the steady gaze of the man in the booth across from me with the inviting bulge in his pants. I had stopped looking at him, but he was still looking at me. Why couldn't he look somewhere else? I thought. I couldn't just stare down at my plate through my entire lunch hour. I started to get very irritated with the man in the booth as I defensively shifted my anger at myself to him. He shouldn't have the right to ruin my lunch hour, I thought.

I tried to concentrate on eating my lunch and managed to get it down without looking over his way once. But eventually I finished and he was still there, and as I started to get up from my table there was no choice but to face in his direction. I couldn't help but notice that he was smiling at me and had his right hand draped across his upper thigh, as though to emphasize the bulge of his cock beneath it. Calling on all of my self-control I tried to freeze him with a look of indifference, as though I didn't really notice him. It apparently worked because he lowered his eyes and a look of self-consciousness crossed his face.

It occurred to me that it wasn't the first time I'd seen him. I had lunch in the same restaurant almost every weekday and he was often there at the same time. But this was the first time he had been seated so closely to me that I had a clear look at him. Now that I thought about it, it seemed to me that he had been watching me over a period of weeks, studying me when he thought I wouldn't notice.

Well, maybe he'll quit now, I said to myself. Suddenly I wanted to get out of the restaurant and walk. I picked up my purse, the check, and walked briskly to the cashier. Standing before the cash register I was taking some money out of my wallet when a deep masculine voice said, "On a day like this it's too bad they don't have sidewalk tables."

It was the man from the booth. "Yes," I agreed coolly, using the same tone of voice I'd have used if he'd been old and ugly. I topped off the effect by looking away, rejecting him.

It was a sweltering day, really too hot for window shopping, but I still had thirty minutes left of my lunch hour. I was dressed for the weather, wearing a very light cotton dress with no bra and just my panties underneath. I could feel my body moving underneath the light clothing as I walked down the street, with my nipples straining and rubbing against the fabric, their outline sticking out as they became stimulated. I moved down the sidewalk slowly, trying to keep my mind a blank, but being unable to drive my awareness of my body out of my mind as I looked at the displays in the store windows. Pausing, I studied a see-through shortie nightgown in a window, thinking in spite of myself how I would look in it, imagining my full tits peeking trough the sheer lingerie with their bright-red nipples winking provocatively, and the hint of my silky dark cunt peering through the flimsy material. As I started to feel my cunt getting moist again I suddenly became aware that someone was standing near me. I sensed that it was the man from the restaurant and that he had been following me. I knew that I should walk away before I became hopelessly involved with a man again.

Instead, I steeled myself for the moment he'd make an attempt to pick me up with some remark like, "I'll bet you'd look terrific in that negligee." Just the prospect of it sent chills up and down my spine since that, of course, was exactly what I had been thinking.

He cleared his throat with a small attention getting sound. I turned, facing him, determined to cut him off sharply.

"I'm Perry Middleton. I work in the broker's office across the street," he began, his voice nervous. "I know you're not the kind of girl a man should try and pick up, but I don't know anyone who could introduce us. I assure you that I'm perfectly respectable," he rushed on. "And I was wondering if you'd have lunch with me tomorrow."

He actually seemed quite nice. Maybe I'd been wrong about him in the restaurant and I was just jumping to conclusions when I was gazing at the lump of his cock and immediately wound up with fucking on my mind. But I felt I shouldn't take a chance. I gave him a cool look.

"Please, I know I'm out of line," he went on persistently, "but if you'll walk to my office with me, anyone there will tell you that I'm a respectable, decent guy who's not going to try anything funny with you."

The idea of walking into his office and having him say, "Please, someone tell this girl I'm all right," stuck me as very funny. I couldn't help smiling.

My smile was all the encouragement he needed. "We'll make it at the usual place."

I surprised myself by giving in. "All right, lunch tomorrow at one."

Jubilant, he repeated, "At one."

"I have to get back to work now," I muttered, and walked off.

On the way back I found myself thinking, before I could catch myself, maybe this will work out, after all. If that bulge in his pants meant anything he's got to be very well hung. Visions of eight or nine inches of rock-hard cock jutting out of a thatch of curly black hair danced in my mind. I could just picture spoonfuls of hot, sticky cum squirting out of it into my mouth, running my tongue over the swollen head of it, swallowing every drop.

No, no, I said to myself. I've got to stop looking at men like this. If I'm going to have lunch with him it's going to be to prove that I can get to know a man for something besides flicking. I've got to do it.

Sitting at my desk a few minutes later, mixed emotions raced through me. I was angry at my lack of will power; angry because I had said yes to a strange man, and troubled because after I had I had immediately begun to imagine fucking him. At the same time I was oddly exhilarated. And I was scared. It was an old familiar feeling. I tried to push the memories of the broken marriages and love affairs away, and with them all thoughts of the luncheon date. There was so much pain involved in the past, and so much potential pain in the future if I wasn't careful. But in contemplating the pain, I couldn't help but think of some of the pleasure, those long nights twisted in the sheets with the smell of sex permeating the room, fucking and sucking as if there were no tomorrow. But, unfortunately, there always did turn out to be a tomorrow, and it usually turned out to be filled with arguments, betrayal and, ultimately, grief. This time, I thought, tomorrow won't be that way.

I went straight from the office to the children's hospital where I worked as a volunteer three nights a week. Somehow, working there seemed to be the only thing I had found that could get my mind off of sex for any length of time.

When I got to the hospital I swallowed some coffee hurriedly, then reported in on the second floor. For the next three hours I moved from room to room, telling stories, soothing away tears, and tucking in for the night a dozen young children who had no visitors. The floor I was assigned to held only the abandoned and unwanted children. At first I'd thought it was cruel to separate them from the children whose parents hung anxiously over them, but later I came to realize it was really kindness. They didn't have to witness what they didn't have, and the hospital assigned three times as many volunteers to their rooms as they did to the others.

We were encouraged to give of ourselves to the children. This was unique and very special in my life because it was my only opportunity to give myself to someone in a way other than just offering them my body. Instead of being concerned about my own needs and problems, when I was with the children I was able to take satisfaction in making them feel special instead of hedonistically satisfying myself. It was easy for me to do this in the hospital, but the instant I stepped outside I always seemed to be back on the same old sexual merry-go-round, looking for some anonymous cock to have stuck up inside my cunt so I'd feel like I was worth something.

It was nine o'clock when I walked into my apartment, exhausted and hungry. I heated a can of soup, ate half of it, and crawled into a tub of hot water to soak away my fatigue. The instant I stretched out in the soothing water, I became aware of my naked body, of its smooth curves and flawless skin. Of my tits, weightlessly bobbing in the water. And of the water flooding my cunt with warmth. Without being conscious of it, my hand dropped between my legs and my fingers began to lazily massage my clitoris. As a sensual feeling began to overtake my body I abruptly remembered I had a date the next day. The date reminded me, for some reason, of my husbands, Jeff, Red, and Tom. I tried telling myself it was crazy to compare a luncheon date with my marriages. But it wasn't, and I knew it! Everything inside of me was sounding a bell of alarm, but, simultaneously, the pounding of my heart and the clenching of the muscles in my cunt were crying out for the thrill of a man inside me.

I bathed quickly and got ready for bed. In the darkened room I tossed and turned, sleepless an afraid, but restless and horny. After a while, in my confusion and frustration, I began to cry for all of my childhood hopes and dreams. I was sure that none of them would ever come true because of the things that had happened to me back ten.

Oh, Grandma, if only you had lived! I thought in despair.

For the first ten years of my life Grandma had loved, protected, and guided me. She'd also kept me from feeling set apart or different because I had no father. I'd grown up with the knowledge that Margot, my beautiful mother, hadn't married the man who fathered me. I was illegitimate.

Grandma, Margot and I had lived hr a small white house surrounded by fragrant blooms and rich green shrubs. When I was very young, I think I thought Grandma was my mother, since she was the one who tended my needs, gave me affection, and heard my prayers. I called her Mama until the day she died.

Of course I knew that the beautiful woman I saw briefly each morning and occasionally evenings and weekends was actually my mother. But she never permitted me to call her that. Childlike, I was proud of Margot's beauty, but I never dreamed of being like her, the way most little girls dream of growing up to be just like their mothers. I dreamed of being just like Grandma: warm, tender, absorbed in her home and her granddaughter.

Grandma used to tell me about my grandfather, who had died before I was born. He'd been tall and straight and handsome. How happy he'd made her. Later, I realized there was a purpose behind her warm stories. She wanted me to understand that when a man and a woman loved each other, they married and shared their hopes and disappointments. It was Grandma's way of trying to offset the effect of my very modern mother's way of life on my thinking. Maybe she would have succeeded if she had lived longer. But she didn't.

I came home from school one day and found Grandma's motionless body beside a flower bed, the trowel she'd been using still in her hand. There was a small smile on her lips, and her eyes were open, but she was cold. So cold! I screamed when I touched her, and I went on screaming. Finally, a neighbor picked me up and carried me inside.

Margot arrived about an hour later, crying. I'd never seen her cry before. I flung myself against her, and we clung to each other, more like sisters than like a mother comforting her daughter.

Margot turned twenty-five the day after Grandma died. The man she was dating brought her a cake. I counted the candles on it, not thinking anything of the fact that she was only fifteen years older than I.

Margot sold Grandma's little white house with its beautiful garden about a month later, and we moved into a third-floor apartment in a new, modem building. Her life didn't change much. She went on working every day and going out practically every night. For a while I felt lost and very lonely, without direction. Evenings were the worst. All too often I ate dinner alone, did my schoolwork, watched television, then went to bed, not knowing when Margot would come home. I felt like I was eighty instead of ten, that my life was over. Little did I know!

Loneliness made me start to daydream about Margot getting married and my having brothers and sisters and a father. I started really looking at the men she dated, trying to decide which of them I'd most want for my father. I liked several of them, but when Lou started staying overnight a couple of times a week, I decided he'd do nicely. He liked me and brought me small gifts when he brought Margot something. When I went to bed he'd kiss me good night and tell me not to forget my prayers. Later, hearing Lou's and Margot's soft voices and smothered laughter from the room next to mine, I'd fall asleep quickly, certain that my dreams were about to come true.

One evening I was home alone while Margot was off someplace. I was watching television when there was a knock on the door. Margot had given me explicit instructions never to open the door when I was home alone, but she had never spelled out why, and I was so lonely the prospect of being around another person, even a stranger, was exciting to me.

I answered the door and saw that it was Lou. "I thought you were out with Margot," I said over the chain lock that permitted the door to open a few inches.

"Uh, no," he said. "Well, uh, I was, but something came up that, uh, she had to take care of, so I came back here to wait for her. Do you mind if I come in?" In all of my ten-year-old innocence I thought nothing of it and undid the chain and let him in, and went back to the couch in front of the television set.

Lou stood in the middle of the room and asked, "Do you mind if I sit down next to you?"

"Why?" I said, "You want to watch television with me?"

"No," he said, "I thought we might sit and talk. You know, I've never gotten the chance to know you as well as I'd like because I'm always busy with your mother."

This approach was, of course, irresistible to me. He was interested in me! It seemed to me in my naivete that he wanted to be my father. I blurted out, "Are you going to marry Margot and be my daddy?"

"Well, maybe," he said, "but first we've got to get to know each other. I want us to get to know each other very well."

"Okay."

"I'll show you something very special if you'll turn off the TV," he said soothingly.

"Oh, goodie," I said, getting up to turn off the set. "What are you going to show me? I just love surprises." I turned around to walk back to the couch from the television. It was then that I saw he was unbuttoning his pants. I knew there was a difference between men and women down there, but I wasn't quite sure what it was. The idea that Lou was going to show me made me very interested. I blurted out, "Are you going to show me your… your thing?"

"Uh, well,…." he stammered. He seemed nervous. I couldn't understand why.

"That's all right," I said cheerfully, "I'd love to see it."

"Okay, then come over here, little one," he said as he finished unbuttoning his pants and stuck his hand inside the opening and pulled out his cock. It was long and curved with a bright-red knob on the end of it. I was astonished that it could be so big.

"Doesn't it hurt you walking around with it inside your pants?" I asked.

"No," he laughed, "it's not always this big. It only gets like this when I'm around someone I like, and I like you very much."

I was thrilled that he liked me. This opened a whole new door to me, a way I would be able to see if a man liked me, a wonderful surprise for a lonely little girl. "Can I touch it?" I asked.

"Of course. I wish you would," he said eagerly.

I leaned over him and ran my little fingers over his cock, lingering here and there, tracing my fingers along the outline of the huge pulsating vein that ran up its shaft, and then circling the throbbing tip of it. Then I noticed a little drop of moisture had appeared out of the small slit at the end of it. "Oh, what's that?" I said with alarm. "You're leaking."

He laughed again. "Na, I'm not leaking. I'm trying to show you how much I like you. When I like someone, not only does it grow, but makes a special milk if I really like someone in an extra-special way.

I was fascinated by what he was saying, but even more by the huge column of flesh twitching between his legs. My little cunt began to tighten and I absent-mindedly began to rub it, which made it feel even better.

Suddenly I became aware of what I was doing and blushed. "Don't worry," he reassured me, "that's the way you're supposed to feel down there when you like somebody. The way you feel just means you like me as much as I like you. Why don't we take off our clothes and I'll show you."

I hesitated a moment, but the lure of acceptance, of somebody liking me for myself alone, was too much for me to resist. "Okay," I agreed as I quickly shucked off my sneakers and stepped out of my checkered dress and white cotton underpants. I stood naked in front of him, my ten-year-old body panting with excitement, my hairless, inexperienced cunt feeling strangely hot and wet at the same time.

Lou was naked now, all six feet of him, with swirls of dark curly hair on his chest working down into a dark clump at his crotch from which his quivering cock insistently protruded.

Lou pulled me to the couch, and picking me up, placed my body so that it straddled his head and pushed my cunt against his mouth. His tongue shot into my warm, damp honey pat and I could feel strange juices flowing from my palpitating slit. He located the hard little nub of my clitoris and pushed his tongue against it. My ass was rolling sound an his face, and as I felt the thrilling suction of his mouth on my little clit, I went into a frenzied spasm. My body shook and my legs stiffened. The only thing in my experience that had compared with the feeling was when I had to go to the bathroom badly and had held it for a long time and then felt the relief of finally going. Almost automatically I raised myself up just a trifle and started to piss. Lou felt the liquid oozing out and opened his mouth wide to swallow the golden stream that gushed from my wide-open cunt.

Then Lou slid out from under me. At first I thought there was something wrong, but when he placed me on my back and started kissing me all over, all my restraint and hesitation left me. As if some voice in the back of my mind was telling me what to do next, I wiggled into a position so that Lou could mouth my cunt. I didn't know if the feeling of wetness between my legs was coming from Lou's mouth or from inside of me, but II loved it, and the wetness was growing. I began to shake and my crotch bumped hard against his mouth. I could see by the expression on Lou's face that he was suddenly scared, but he raised his head and when he saw a smile on my face he smiled back.

"Would you like to suck me?" he said.

I couldn't think of any other answer but "Okay." If this was what having a father was like, I loved it.

We repositioned ourselves and he lay back on the couch. Somehow, I just knew instinctively what to do. I slid my tongue along the length of his cock and gently nibbled at the skin. Then I lapped his balls, then took the head of his cock into my mouth and began sucking. I tried in vain to get the whole length of his cock into my tiny mouth but couldn't. But I could tell by the way he was moaning and writhing it made no difference. Suddenly, feeling adventurous, I kept his prick in my mouth and shifted around so that I could straddle Lou's face, placing my hot little cunt against his mouth while I kept sucking. He opened his mouth and I began to piss again. He took every drop and kept his tongue busy in my gooey, sloppy cunt. His tongue worked avidly in my cunt. My hips were churning. I could feel his cock growing even harder in my mouth. Something dribbled from it into my mouth, which was, I was quickly to learn, a hint of the cascade of burning sticky cum that spurted forth in another second in delicious spasms. As the jism spewed into my eager mouth, my body shuddered and stiffened to the exploding of a million rockets and slowly sailed a million miles into space.

When I regained my senses, Lou was getting dressed in a hurry. "I thought you were going to wait for Margot?" I asked.

"I just remembered there's something I have to do," he said breathlessly. "Listen," he went on; "your mother might be angry if she found out I was here and didn't wait, so why don't we let the fact I was here just be our little secret?"

I just smiled, rolled over on the couch, and closed my eyes, basking in the glow of the ecstasy I felt. Once he was gone I cleaned up, put on my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and went to bed and dreamed of the excitement of our bodies and the thrill of playing with his enormous cock that seemed to say, "I like you."